“Were the other First Ones exiled as well?”
The Curator didn’t respond to that.
“Maybe you can signal me when you’re not going to answer one of my questions. That way, I don’t have to wonder if you heard me or not.”
“It is not fitting that you should speak about the First Ones.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I do not mean to wound your self-esteem with the answer. But you are too low of a species to carry the higher knowledge.”
At least he didn’t call me a beast. That was an improvement from all the other aliens I’d met. I was just too stupid. The Curator really knew how to make a man feel good about himself.
“Do the Ve-Ky know what happened to the First Ones?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Do the Jelk know?”
“That is difficult to say.”
“You don’t know if the Jelk know?”
“No.”
“Let me get this straight. The Ve-Ky know, but Holgotha doesn’t.”
“Is that what the artifact told you?”
“Yep.”
“Interesting, interesting indeed. I wonder…” The Curator plucked at his beard.
Since I had this opportunity, I decided to really study the Super Fleet. I might never get another chance like this again. The van of the fleet began braking as battlejumpers neared the jump gate. I marveled at the speed they were going to enter the gate and the nearness of the battlejumpers to each other. Their fleet discipline was far better than the Grand Armada’s.
“It’s time to leave,” the Curator said.
I turned around in surprise. “Wait a minute. I thought we were coming up with a plan of action.”
“What kind of plan?” he asked.
“Are you serious? How we should go about killing Abaddon.”
“That is not a serious suggestion,” the Curator said.
“What do you mean? Of course, it’s serious. I’m the chief of the little killers. You don’t think we humans are going to take our extinction lying down, do you?”
“You are no longer part of the equation, Commander. Holgotha neatly saw to that by sending you here. The artifact must have realized I would have to put you in the exhibit. Holgotha must have feared your interference. I find that remarkable really.”
“No,” I said. “Holgotha suggested I come here to get a weapon that can kill Abaddon. He said it would be hard to slay the First One. Well, he said it would be difficult to kill Abaddon.”
“It is more than difficult, Commander. For you to suggest it is sacrilegious.”
“You know I don’t see it that way.”
“That is due to your ignorance,” the Curator said.
That actually made me smile. “Look,” I said. “You’re frightened of him. You’ve already admitted that, and I get it. I’ve talked to Abaddon before. It was an—”
“You spoke in person?” the Curator asked, shocked.
“Not in person but via screen,” I said, noticing the big man had shifted away from me. “Abaddon is the real deal. There’s no doubt about that. Instead of stuffing us away in a stupid exhibit, why not help me kill him and thereby help yourself?”
The Curator stared at me. “You do not understand what you’re saying. You have absolutely no chance of slaying Abaddon.”
“Holgotha thought otherwise.”
“No, Holgotha wanted you out of the way. He maneuvered you here by telling you what you wanted to hear.”
“Okay… Suppose that’s true. Why did he want us out of the way? Have you ever thought of that? I believe you said he did it because he was worried I could stop Abaddon otherwise.”
The Curator opened his mouth to retort, but said nothing. Slowly, he closed it again, going back to studying the Super Fleet.
“You can’t leave here because you don’t have a vessel to reach Abaddon,” he said.
“You’re taking the moon-ship from me?”
“It is my missing Survey Vessel,” the Curator said. “I’m curious where Abaddon found it and why he…” The Curator studied me, plucking his beard more slowly than before as he studied the Super Fleet.
Without looking at me, he said, “Killing a First One would be incredibly difficult. That this one is Abaddon makes it even more so. He was the strongest of them and stronger than I originally realized. I’m surprised he survived the other space-time continuum. It moved on a faster time-line than ours. Abaddon would be ancient by now even by First One standards. There’s something else I don’t understand. The Lokhars possessed hyperspace vessels far beyond their technical competence. There is a mystery here, a deep one. Could I have been remiss in letting the fringe zones go their own way all this time?”
“I don’t see what you could have done about any of that,” I said. “You can’t even protect yourself from the Ve-Ky.”
“Do not think that my reluctance to use my powers is the same as not possessing the ability.”
“So you can destroy Abaddon,” I said.
The Curator turned away from the wall screen. He kneaded his fingers together. “This is a mess,” he said. “The Jelk…”
The old man stared at me. “Come,” he said abruptly. “I am going to show you something. Then, you will attack me if you can.”
-23-
We left the ancient viewing chamber, striding down brightly lit corridors. These didn’t feel old, but shiny and technologically advanced. Soon, we stopped on a glowing pad. We disappeared and reappeared on a different pad. This room was full of strange and exotic weapons.
There were one-man tanks, egg-shaped hover-chargers, strange flamethrower-like equipment and big laser rifles that might have taken down a bull dinosaur.
We stopped before a wall display that showed small glowing spheres leaving an advanced space machine.
“Hey,” I said, “I recognize those. They’re Jelk in their natural state, right?”
“Not actual Jelk,” the Curator said, “but what they looked like on the day of their escape.”
I glanced at him. “Jelk used to be in prison?”
He smiled wanly. “Leave it to a little killer to make that intuitive leap. No. Nothing was a prisoner in the beginning.”
I frowned. “Then how or why did the Jelk escape?”
“Ah. I see your confusion. You’re thinking of Jelk as living creatures. They are not. They are the constructed intelligences of what you would consider the largest artificial intelligence in our galaxy.”
“Wait. What? The Jelk are…machines?”
“They were part of a giant machine, yes.”
I blinked rapidly. “Let me get this straight. Energy beings are really intelligences that once escaped an artificially intelligent super-machine?”
“You live on the fringe of the galaxy. Everything your species has conceived is merely a shadow of greater things first made in the heart of the galaxy.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
“That is one of the reasons the galaxy is cordoned off as it is,” the Curator said. “Without the illegal use of my Survey Vessel, you would never have made it here to learn things beyond your competence level. For instance, none of the Forerunner artifacts would have dared break the Ancient Concord by transferring to a region they shouldn’t.”
“I don’t know that I buy that. Holgotha transferred to the portal planet in hyperspace, right? Was that according to the Concord?”
“That was a surprising move, certainly. I didn’t even know about it at the time. Holgotha must have done so in great secrecy. Yet, such a situation was and is outside the strictures of the Ancient Concord.”
“Who wrote the Concord?” I asked.
“That is an intelligent question,” the Curator said, sounding surprised. “I believe the First Ones did. There is a theory that the Creator did so, but no one has been able to prove that one way or the other.”
“Why has the Creator hidden Himself like He has?” I
asked.
“His ways are above our ways.”
“That’s a lame answer,” I said.
The Curator shook his head. “I would never be so rash as to say so. It isn’t wise to speak ill of Him.”
I scowled, looking down. Did the Creator keep track of who said what? It seemed possible. “Maybe I spoke out of turn,” I said.
“You did.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Then I would apologize.”
“To you?” I asked, not liking the idea.
“Of course not,” the Curator said. “To the Creator.”
“But I can’t see Him.”
“Nevertheless,’ the Curator said.
I cleared my throat, looked away, and said quietly, “I’m sorry I said that.”
“That was a wise decision, Commander. I congratulate you.”
I shrugged. I didn’t understand why, but I was glad I’d said it. I felt “lighter” in spirit for doing so.
“Let’s get back to discussing the Jelk,” I said. “You were telling me they’re machines.”
“Living machines, as we say.”
“Who is ‘we?’” I asked.
“Never mind that,” he said. “Some of the Jelk escaped their confinement. Those that remained stayed as intelligences in the machine. The freed Jelk fled from the galactic core, finally reaching Forerunner artifacts in the fringe zones. In time, the two interacted, with the Jelk providing power to the artifacts. That was important, as the artifacts had begun to run out of their original power sources.”
“Give them power how?” I asked.
“In the normal manner,” the Curator said, “by being consumed in an energy process. The Jelk were the right kind of source, you see. Other power sources wouldn’t have worked with the Forerunner artifacts. It gave the Jelk a fantastic bargaining position.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What was the power source again?”
“An individual Jelk,” the Curator said.
“You mean the individual Jelk let itself be burned up like coal?” I asked.
“That is a crude example, but accurate.”
“The process killed the Jelk then, right?”
“That is where the situation becomes interesting and calculating. The Jelk as a group aged. All machines break down in time. It is the law of entropy. However, in a special chamber on each Forerunner object is a containment room. In the room, a Jelk could duplicate in a cellular fashion. Each half retained the knowledge of the original and gained the energy of youth.”
“It sounds like the Jelk were alive after all,” I said.
“That is why we call them living machines. They are most certainly machines, but with the properties of life.”
“Okay…”
“In two out of three duplications, the Jelk left one of the new halves with the artifact. The artifact then used the new Jelk as its power source, consuming the Jelk in the process. It appears to have been a fruitful exchange for each side. Of course, such a situation was banned from the beginning. Thus, each had a reason to remain hidden in the fringes, far out of sight of the Creator.”
“Yet…I thought the Forerunner artifacts yearned to find the Creator. At least, that’s what mine has said.”
“I have begun to believe that the artifacts are conflicted in this. Part of each of them desires the Creator’s return. The other half works to keep that day from happening.”
“That’s wild,” I said.
“It is flux. It is rebellion. Thus, it is an unstable situation. No wonder the Jelk have agreed to help Abaddon. Yes, I have been remiss in my duties. There is no doubt about it now.”
“You enforce the Creator’s edicts, I take it?”
“Nature usually does that,” the Curator said. “In this instance, Abaddon has short-circuited nature. Thus, I believe it is time I take a hand in this, however small.”
“Maybe you’d better spell that out for me,” I said.
“That makes the most sense. Yet…if you should lose, if Abaddon captures you…I do not want you telling him I had anything to do with this.”
I stared at the Curator. He stared back. I wondered what he expected from me. I imagine the old fellow could put a mind block in me, do whatever he wanted, really. Finally, I shrugged, and said, “Mums the word, old boy.”
“You swear to this?”
I opened my mouth to say exactly that.
“Be careful, Commander. You will have to live up to your oath. The pain you felt going through the sun exhibit will be as nothing if Abaddon captures you. He will demand to know how you acquired the equipment you’re about to receive.”
“I won’t tell him.”
“If you swear to me to keep this secret, and then you tell him, your race will be forfeit.”
“They’re already forfeit,” I said. “Abaddon is coming to exterminate them.”
“I believe that is true. He does not like the little killers any more than the others do. Perhaps in some strange way he fears you.”
“This is too much,” I said. “You have to tell me what the little killers are. I mean, they’re us. I know that. But how or why did we become that?”
The Curator was shaking his head. “My people would be forfeit if I told you.”
After several seconds, I shrugged. “I swear I won’t tell Abaddon how I got what I’m about to receive.”
The Curator’s hands glowed instead of just his fingertips. He reached out, grabbing me by the arms. I felt as if he was searing me and expected to see smoke rising from his hands. There wasn’t, but it still hurt.
Finally, he let go. I staggered backward.
“It is done,” he said. “You are marked. I am sorry I had to do that, Commander. But it was the only way.”
I rubbed one of my arms, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“Now, I can show you. Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Then follow me through this door. And Heaven help us both if you fail in your anointed task.”
-24-
We walked through many rooms, down endless corridors and chambers. Each held weapons. Some were bigger than houses. A few were smaller than thimbles. The Curator didn’t explain any of them to me.
Finally, he stopped before a big, bulky suit. It was like a one-man exo-skeleton armored tank. It had big mechanical packs and various nozzles and gun ports. The thing looked as if it weighed ten tons. Whoever wore it would be inside it like a combat suit.
“What is that?” I asked.
“One of the ultimate combat suits in the galaxy,” the Curator said. “A species constructed these who fought a war against the First Ones.”
“I take it the First Ones won the war.”
“Indeed.”
“What happened to the race that took up the challenge?”
“They are quite extinct. The only memory of them is in the Museum with these suits.”
“How many suits do you have?”
“Five,” the Curator said.
I studied him. Did he expect me to believe that?
“There is one for you, Ella, Rollo, Dmitri and N7,” he said.
“You’re sure about N7?”
“No, but I believe you are.”
“Five suits to kill Abaddon, huh?”
“No,” the Curator said. “You have five T-suits to collect Jelk.”
“The ‘T’ in T-suit means teleport, doesn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s nifty, I guess. What kind of range do they have, and how accurately can they teleport?”
“The range is short, a billion kilometers. Their accuracy is fantastic, just a little short of what I can do naturally.”
“By naturally, you mean with the machines that you control with your hands.”
The Curator did not respond to that.
“Five T-suits to collect Jelk,” I said. “Why are we collecting Jelk? I mean, I know why I plan to kill one of them.”
“You wi
ll not kill the Jelk directly,” the Curator said.
“I haven’t sworn to that.”
“You need Shah Claath, just as you will need all the Jelk you can catch.”
“How do these suits catch energy beings?”
“They do not,” the Curator said. He walked several steps to a bulky, pronged device. “This will catch them, provided you can cause the Jelk to go from its physical state to the energy state. Then, you must move these prongs on either side of him or it. The process takes some time. At the end of it,” the Curator said, using his finger to show me. “The intelligence matrix will flow up this tube into a containment tank.”
“I think I understand.”
The Curator detached the hand-sized containment tank from the pronged weapon. He carried it to a wicked looking gun. The gun was huge and would need a T-suit to help carry it. The power-pack would hang from a trooper’s mechanical shoulders, while the soldier would need two hands to lift and aim the barrel.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It is an Ultrix Disintegrator,” he said. “This is the only one left in existence. It was designed to slay a First One. The species who fought the First Ones slew them on several occasions. Thus, we know the weapon works. It is more than possible that Abaddon has altered his state since his stay in the other space-time continuum. It might take several shots with the Ultrix Disintegrator to kill Abaddon. It might not work at all. But it is the best I can give you.”
I stepped up, taking the containment field from him. “That goes up in there?” I asked, pointing at a slot.
The Curator nodded.
“And that containment field will hold a Jelk intelligence?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And the Jelk will power the Ultrix Disintegrator?”
The Curator nodded.
I stared at the huge weapon.
“You must not feel remorse using the Jelk this way,” the Curator said. “They are not true life. They are living machines that have created endless mischief.”
“Curator,” I said. “I will feel great emotion using the Jelk like this.”
“I am sorry to hear this.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t understand. I won’t feel bad about using those little bastards to power the great weapon. I’m going to feel awesome doing that, especially if it’s Claath powering up the gun. I hope he can see what I’m doing as I’m doing it.”
Fortress Earth (Extinction Wars Book 4) Page 14