The Farthest City

by Daniel P Swenson

“Yes. It severs atomic bonds. Fabrication Validator explained it to me when we found it in some stuff Micro brought back. I added a handle and a trigger.”

  “So…”

  “Think of it as a big knife. It only works out to about a meter.” She held out a flat piece of metal, pointed the decoupler at it, then pulled the trigger. A flash of light made him blink. Cut neatly in two, half of the metal fell to the floor.

  “It should have enough charge for at least thirty seconds of use,” Abby said.

  What would he do with it? Did he want to lug this thing around out there?

  “We don’t have the right equipment for making guns and bullets,” Abby said. “And Mediator says they’re not effective against chines, but I thought you should have something to protect you. This is the best I could come up with. Sorry, no machine guns.”

  Kellen laughed, shrugged. “I wouldn’t want one.”

  #

  Most of the chines had rest periods, although not timed to the day-night cycle. Abby explained even chines needed rest for maintenance of their memory cores. Most had auto-repair mechanisms that worked best when the chine was dormant. Apparently he and Abby fell into that category.

  Regardless of whatever mechanisms his new some contained, Kellen found it comforting to rest at night, maintaining the routine he’d had all his life. Although he couldn’t tell for sure—he was no astronomer—the days and nights felt longer on Iron53. Abby would tell him about her latest discoveries and fabrications at night as they settled in. She hadn’t stopped at building his decoupler. She had begun helping the chines improve their defenses.

  “I’ve put in extra alarms, strengthened the doors on the main tunnels. Even some booby traps.”

  “I hope I don’t get caught in them,” he said, half in jest.

  “I’ll tell you where they are,” she said. “Anything I can do to make us safer makes me less afraid.”

  Her admission surprised him. She’d been the brave one so far, bringing him back from the depths of depression. He guessed everyone had secret fears. He fell asleep, wondering what fear would stalk his dreams.

  #

  The next morning, Kellen found Abby in the workshop she’d constructed in an adjacent tunnel. A chine was there ahead of him, waiting for Abby to fix something.

  “They’ve taken to you,” he said, watching metal drip as she finished a weld.

  “Yeah, I’m like their mother.” She grinned. “They look up to you as well, you know.”

  She plugged the part into the waiting chine. It burbled thanks, curled into a ball, and rolled away along a chine track.

  “Me?” He couldn’t believe it.

  “Yes, you’re always out there with Micro. Those chines you rescued,” Abby said. “Even without that, they suspect we’re more than we let on. Some kind of chine royalty or something. Because of our somes.”

  “Because we’re human, you mean.”

  “They don’t think we’re human. But they hold the human form sacred, and they think we came from Earth.”

  “All chines come from Earth,” Kellen countered.

  “Not for a long time, they haven’t,” Abby said.

  “Accounter hates us. Says we’re impersonators out to con them.”

  She shrugged. “What can we do?”

  #

  Kellen continued his search for Izmit, wandering farther into the waste each time. He had yet to encounter Gatherer, although at times he heard sounds carried on the wind. Sometimes Micro accompanied him, other times Kellen left alone. He continued to hold out hope he would find Izmit one day, although the chance of him surviving all this time didn’t bear thinking about.

  It wasn’t long before Abby’s new defenses were put to the test. The alarms sounded, and they fled into the tunnels. Only this time, not one chine was abducted or killed. The residents of Tunnel Town were impressed and stopped by often to thank Abby.

  In his spare time, Kellen started drawing again. Etchings in stone or metal took too long. He switched to painting after obtaining some crude pigments from a chine who gathered unusual rocks—mostly reds, browns, and yellows, but even a tiny bit of blue the chine brought him after seeing his first image. No longer enamored of chines, Kellen drew scenes from Earth. Pictures of Jesup and Grand-Mère. Many of the chines stopped by to see his art. They would stand motionless, thinking about who knew what.

  Kellen laughed at himself, painting in a cave like some mechanized Neanderthal. He even replicated some petroglyphs he’d seen once—animals and hunters. Not much had changed, even here in such a distant future. Humans could end up one more species obliterated by their successor, just another set of old fossils to be sorted, catalogued, and forgotten.

  #

  One day, Kellen left their tunnel, hearing shouts in the canyon. A bright point of light streaked through the sky, then out of sight beyond the edge of the canyon above.

  “Micro!” he yelled, running for his pack. He stuffed in a pry-bar, a portable solar charger, and the decoupler. Micro met him at their usual departure point, and they plunged into the tunnel, moving fast. They had only a short window before Gatherer found the new arrival.

  Micro sprinted ahead. Kellen could barely keep up through tunnel after tunnel. He quickly lost all sense of direction despite their past forays. As they descended into one tunnel, he tripped but caught himself. They pushed forward as the tunnel bent upward into daylight. Micro stopped and pressed itself against the tunnel wall.

  Kellen crept up behind Micro as crashing noises reverberated down the tunnel. Dust sifted through the air with each impact. The tunnel ended several meters ahead, but the light was too bright to see much. Micro crept forward and pressed itself into a fold in the tunnel wall near the entrance. Kellen lay flat and wiggled his way up until he could see.

  The tunnel opened onto a solid rock plateau. A band of chines howled and shrieked as a massive construction bot swatted a battered capsule with enormous claspers. Big as a house, it was larger than any chine he’d yet seen on Iron53. Remembering the many crushed and dismembered chines he’d seen, he stared in awe at the source of all that damage.

  A crowd of smaller chines hung back, avoiding the con bot’s tracks. One was bipedal like a human. Three resembled spiders, low to the ground, with multi-jointed legs. Their flattened forelegs were curved and tapered like swords. Two were vaguely dog-like, all angles and flat surfaces, with powerful legs made for running. Instead of a head, each had a plate-sized circle sensor, as if a real dog had been decapitated, leaving only the stump of a neck. The other chines were confusing mishmashes of unmatched limbs and parts, all of them predators.

  So this is Gatherer. Tunnel Town wasn’t the only band of misfits. But these inspired no pity. A nervous energy coursed through Kellen’s some, fear and excitement co-mingled at being so close to the enemy. He wanted to flee, but something held him there.

  The capsule had become wedged between some boulders along the opposite escarpment. The con bot had managed to pull the capsule opening awry, but it couldn’t get its claspers inside to pull out the chine hiding in there. Kellen crept forward for a better vantage point, but Micro reached out and pulled him back.

  “Too dangerous,” it said. “Gatherer see us, catch us.”

  Kellen took the advice and settled down to watch.

  He wished he could do something for the newly arrived chine. It was only a matter of time before one of Gatherer’s somes pulled it out or the con bot crushed the capsule, chine and all. Mediator had described Gatherer as erratic, and he could see why. The chines seemed to dance with excitement, hurling taunts at their cornered prey.

  The con bot gave off a deep sound that vibrated the tunnel walls. It seemed frustrated and battered the capsule, pivoting on its tracks to attack from various angles. One chine didn’t retreat fast enough and was smashed underneath.

  For a moment, the new arrival looked out of the capsule. Orange eyes glowed out of an angled bisymmetrical face. Kellen felt a surge of excitement.
<
br />   “I know that chine,” he whispered. “It’s Chronicler! From the city.”

  He didn’t understand. How, if Chronicler had arrived with them originally and shut down, could it be here again? Could it just be another chine with the same body model? He had to find out. If anyone could help them, Chronicler could, but it wouldn’t be of much help smashed to bits. He had to do something, and do it now. He shrugged off his pack and removed the decoupler. The device felt heavy and awkward in his hands.

  “I’ve got to help,” he said.

  “You die out there,” Micro said.

  “I have to risk it,” Kellen said. “Can you distract them?”

  Micro looked back out at the scene. The con bot had returned to the attack, and Chronicler had disappeared back into the capsule.

  “Micro-Repair Technician will try,” it said. “Wait.”

  Then it sped off down the tunnel the way they’d come. Several minutes later, Kellen heard a shrill whistling from outside. He saw Gatherer’s somes turn away from the capsule toward the source of the sound. Even the con bot turned.

  Where had Micro come out? It must have emerged from a different tunnel. What have I done? If they capture Micro, it will be my fault.

  Go, said his inner voice. Go now.

  Kellen sprinted out of the tunnel and into the sunshine. The con bot towered overhead, at least six or seven meters above the ground. Without waiting for second thoughts, Kellen ran underneath, straight to the capsule.

  “Chronicler,” he called. “Chronicler, is it you?”

  The familiar face he remembered peered out at him.

  “Hello, Kellen Beaudin,” Chronicler said. His voice sounded cheerful despite the trying circumstances.

  One of Gatherer’s chines turned to face them. Despite shreds of material hanging from one side of its damaged head, the bipedal chine’s familiarity struck him at once.

  “Iz!”

  A leer blossomed on Izmit’s tattered face.

  Chapter 22 – Riven

  “Tanamal,” Alvares said, “Go find Omeri and give him a hand. Birdel, come with me. We’re leaving in an hour.”

  After helping Omeri pack up his instruments, Sheemi worked with the others to truss everything to the vehicles. They set off with Contemplator walking beside them on its talon-like legs.

  Sheemi had been dreading the journey, and she wasn’t disappointed. They drove inland through the coastal hills. Soon every muscle in her body was sore, every joint stiff. They stopped periodically, brief respites from the relentless jolting. As the sun climbed overhead, they worked their way up into the mountains.

  The vehicles slowed to a crawl as the terrain worsened, forcing frequent stops to clear rocks from their path. They made it to within five kilometers of their destination before the slopes became too steep for the vehicles.

  Even for soldiers used to full rucks, transporting the heavy mining equipment up a mountain slope was a challenge. One wrong fall, thought Sheemi, and their precious equipment, carefully fabricated back on Dauntless, would tumble downhill, shattering as it went. She could see the mountain’s crest high above.

  With Alvares and Omeri urging them on, they wended their way up draws and canyons until the incline leveled off, forming a broad, flat shoulder where a piece of the mountain had sloughed away. Sheemi recognized the diagonal layers of sandwiched gray crystals running through the exposed face of sheared rock. Pegmatite.

  The ground was covered with feathery, glassy crystals that crunched underfoot. Quartz, Omeri said. He directed them in setting up the mining and refining equipment, then Alvares told them to take the rest of the day off. Everyone collapsed onto the ground, exhausted.

  The mining seemed to go well the next day. The crystals were grayish-white and soft, crumbling without much force. They extracted the biggest veins. Even with their makeshift masks, glittering powder soon coated their skin and got into their eyes, mouths, and noses.

  “I’m gonna shit jewels,” Jerrold said.

  “Dammit, Jerrold,” Sheemi said, trying to block the image.

  She switched off with the others, shoveling ore into small piles, pushing those into larger piles. Others helped Omeri place the ore into containers, where the scientist worked his magic, turning rocks into sludge. Fractional crystallization, he called it.

  Sheemi’s entire body, already sore from the trip up the mountain, ached badly. Her hands blistered and bled, but it was worth it if it meant getting home. Up on the mountain, it was cold and damp. Their sweaty uniforms chilled them to the bone anytime they stopped to rest, but they toiled on. Everything depended on it.

  Omeri came by to take samples. He seemed cheerful.

  Sheemi set down her shovel for a minute, shivering. “How are we doing, Doctor Omeri?”

  “We’re making remarkable progress. Another few days, I expect.”

  “Why so long?” Jerrold asked.

  “The ore contains only a miniscule concentration of what we need,” Omeri explained. “So even though we need only a small amount, we’ll need to process a few tons of ore.”

  Sheemi punched Jerrold in the arm. “You can hack it.”

  “No need to get violent,” he said, grinning.

  At day’s end, Sheemi ate with the others, then made her way to the refinery, not knowing what she sought until she saw Contemplator there. She thought it looked slightly smaller. Could it be using its own mass to create those aerostats? Maybe some of the scientists’ curiosity, their thirst for knowledge, had rubbed off on her.

  “Hello,” she said.

  She’d heard it speak to Omeri and Alvares a few times, but would it acknowledge her? She waited a few moments before turning to leave.

  “Hello.” Its voice was tinny. Symbols flashed along its raised wing. She had no idea what they meant.

  “You will help us, won’t you? To stop the attacks on Earth?” Her question seemed so obvious. She was sure Gavin and Ciib had already asked it, but she wanted to hear it from the chines themselves.

  “We are. We will. Don’t be afraid that we won’t.”

  “I’m afraid a lot,” Sheemi said, surprising herself. “Are you ever afraid?”

  “Yes.”

  Sheemi sat, unsure what to say next.

  “Don’t you get bored by yourself?” she asked.

  “No. There is much to see for one who looks.”

  She looked around at the mountaintop, scarred by their recent efforts, uncertain what the chine referred to.

  “I am many. I see all across this sphere, every moment.”

  “You mean the aerostats?”

  “Yes. Multiple instances spawned, see?”

  Its side bulged. A teardrop quickened from the bud. It hovered between them like a curious balloon.

  It made her think of her own baby. When the time came, she would be separating a part of herself. She didn’t even have a name picked out, didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. Major Veillon didn’t have the right equipment to tell. She didn’t even know if this baby would ever see Earth again, see her father. She brushed away tears.

  The aerostat hovered near her face. “The water is loss and fear,” Contemplator said, as the aerostat began to rise.

  “Does it hurt, separating yourself like that?” Sheemi asked.

  “I am riven. I will never be whole again.”

  “Why not?”

  “My parent consciousness self-terminated back there, back where my home used to be. It is no more.”

  Sheemi had little experience comforting other humans, let alone a chine.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  The aerostat drifted up into the sky.

  #

  Two days turned into three before Omeri said they were done. “Enough rubidium to take us to the Array and back home, I hope.”

  How would they make it off-planet without a shuttle? It was the question on everyone’s mind. Only Alvares and Omeri seemed calm, but they revealed nothing.

  It rained that night. The
mountain turned into a muddy sty. They were soon soaked to the bone, filthy and freezing, but their questions were answered the next day when thunder echoed off the mountain at dawn. Translocator landed in the mud not far from the camp. Sheemi saw it had one of the emergency descent capsules attached to its top. Standing in the rain, everyone cheered. It wasn’t deluxe, but any ticket out of nowhere was a beautiful thing.

  “Thank you, Mama!” Tilner shouted making everyone laugh.

  Translocator carried them up in groups of three, each trip taking a few hours, until the day was spent and only Sheemi, Alvares, Omeri, and Connor were left.

  “Will Contemplator come now?” Sheemi asked.

  Omeri shook his head. “It instructed us to leave it behind. We’re grateful for its help. It found the ore deposit, and it’s programmed Dauntless with the coordinates for the Array, but now that it’s helped us, it wants to die.”

  She’d been the same. Seeking death.

  No one said much as Translocator hauled them up the planet’s gravity well. More roaring and shaking in a dark tin can.

  They held on for dear life, three of them buckled into the capsule’s chairs, knees touching, and Connor strapped to the equipment rack. He winked at her from his tortured position, and she couldn’t help smiling back.

  The ascent ended without incident, the noise fading out as they left the atmosphere behind, only the occasional vibration as the chine adjusted its trajectory toward Dauntless. Docking went smoothly, and Sheemi let out a sigh of relief. It was good to be home.

  #

  The scientists were already hard at work helping Jimmy refurbish degraded parts. Sheemi stood by to assist with any errands they needed done.

  “I don’t know this stuff very well,” Jimmy said.

  He seemed rattled. Where was the brash overconfidence?

  “Don and Enzo knew the fusion stuff better than me.” He scanned manuals displayed on the wall. “One mistake putting these back and I’ll wreck her for sure.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Gavin said.

  After two days, the parts were ready, and Jimmy and Omeri made their way into Dauntless’ guts to reinstall the parts.