Dark Origins (The Messenger Book 14)

by J. N. Chaney

“Virtually zero.”

  “What’s your point, Kai?”

  “If you don’t believe finding the Archetype was random chance, and you were meant to be united with it, why would this be any different?”

  “Okay, sure, but according to Custodian, these encoded memories show the Milky Way galaxy the way it looked almost five billion years ago. The Unseen lived only a teeny tiny fraction of that much time in the past.”

  “I’m not suggesting it was the Unseen. I am suggesting, though, that you were meant to find and experience these memories.”

  Dash sat up straight and raised a hand. “Kai, just wait a second. Are you suggesting someone decided, five billion years ago, to encode some memories in some machine code, knowing it would eventually be found and adapted by the Deepers for their use, and that we’d find it and adapt it for our use, and I’d be the first one to try it?” Dash had to take a breath after his run-on thought. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Dash, I don’t know how it came about, whether it was some staggeringly forward-looking action by some vastly ancient alien. Or if there was some other force guiding that code through the aeons, ensuring it ended up where it needed to, and that just happened to be you. Or if there are genuinely mystical powers at work that we simply can’t see or even understand. What I’m suggesting is that you were meant to find it. Someone, or something, decided that and made it happen. They are, therefore, important. Perhaps even crucial.”

  Dash stared at the busy remote for a moment. It just kept pruning bushes, utterly unconcerned about five-billion-year-old machine memories. Just the thought of it was—

  Again, he just couldn’t get it to fit into his mind. It was like trying to thread a five-millimeter bolt into a three-millimeter hole.

  He finally sank back and looked at Kai. “When the AIs, or Conover, or Viktor, or any of the other really smart folks we’ve got on the team start wandering off into long, meandering explanations, I ask them to get to the bottom line. This is exactly the opposite. You’re offering me almost no explanation at all, so I guess I need you to get to the point. If these memories are important, fine. But what do they mean?”

  Kai smiled again. “I’m not being deliberately obtuse. I genuinely have no answers to these vastly bigger, deeper questions. I can really only pose them and then invite you to think about how they might be answered.”

  “Fair enough. Now, about that what do they mean? part…”

  Kai’s smile faded. “This is where I become much less clever. As Custodian had noted, the terms Signal and Second Dreaming are so vague that searching for them broadly reveals nothing. Or, rather, reveals too much. For instance, did you know that Second Dreaming is the name of a massage parlor on Passage?”

  “No, I only knew about Happy—er, no I didn’t. Hey, could that be it? Maybe I’m supposed to go there. Be a heluva lot more fun than another year of space battle against the Deepers.”

  Kai actually laughed, something Dash rarely saw him do. “Then you’d better also be prepared to visit the Second Dreaming on Castellan. It’s a fundamental religious sect that promotes intense pain as means of achieving enlightenment.”

  “Yeah, pass on that. Wow, talk about two different experiences.”

  “Anyway, to answer your question—no, I’m afraid I can’t even begin to suggest the significance of either of those terms. What I can tell you is that they don’t occur in any meaningful context in our own searchable archives. My Brethren are now scouring our hardcopy sources for references, but we have found nothing.” He touched the book again. “That’s why I brought this with me, to examine it. But I wouldn’t, as the saying goes, hold your breath.”

  “Shit. Oh, sorry, Kai.”

  Kai rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard Benzel use far more vulgar language as a form of greeting.” He quickly turned solemn again, though.

  “It comes down to this. We have passed our limits, Dash. My brethren and I can simply go no further into the past, nor do we know anyone who can. I’m afraid that whatever we learn from here on will only be at great cost.”

  “Why?”

  “Because such knowledge will have to come from the Deepers, as these machine memories have. And if not from them, then from even more enigmatic forces, assuming they exist.”

  For some deep, primal reason, Kai’s reference to enigmatic forces made Dash shiver. “What forces are those?”

  Kai watched the busy remote. When he answered, he just kept watching it.

  “The Deepers came from somewhere, Dash. Someone or something created them. The answers may have to come from who or whatever that was—or perhaps even still is.”

  Dash paused on his way to the Forge’s infirmary, taking a moment to absorb the view through an expansive viewport.

  The Forge was now embedded in the sprawling and still-growing Kingsport, forming its central hub. It actually explained the purpose behind the sections of the Forge that had, until now, seemed to have no purpose. Dash had occasionally wandered the dim corridors and silent compartments, taking in myriad machines and devices sitting silent, and wondered what it was all for. Back then, even Custodian wasn’t sure, because the Kingsport schematics hadn’t been available to him.

  Now, though, those mysterious parts of the Forge were mysterious no longer. They were coming to life as the Kingsport and Forge slowly merged into a single, massive construct.

  From this vantage, he could see one of the Kingsport’s arms ramble off into the distance, solid and complete right up to the point it suddenly became a tangle of exposed girders and structural components. Dozens of hard, bright sparks of light flared and died as things were welded together. And this was just one of its arms. There were nine altogether, extending in three dimensions and forming the vast station’s basic structure. Eventually, they’d be connected by a series of rings. Right now, though, only two of the arms were complete, and five more were under construction.

  Once complete, it would be one of the largest artificial structures ever created. The only one Dash knew of that was larger was the ominous Deeper platform sitting about a light-year away. They still used the gate that connected it to Backwater, so they kept a careful eye on its hundreds of kilometers of rambling length. They’d mostly stripped its exterior for resources they could use, but most of its interior remained shrouded in mystery. Heavily armed teams of salvagers were now working their way through the guts of the massive station, but at their current rate of progress, Custodian estimated it would take at least ten more years for them to investigate all of it. In the meantime, it had been surrounded by minefields and vigilant, early-warning buoys, in case it somehow spawned some sort of threat.

  But the vast construct seemed dormant, if not entirely dead—

  “Dash, you’re needed in the Command Center,” Custodian said.

  He turned away from the view. “I’m just on my way to visit Jexin in the infirmary. Can it wait?”

  “It’s important. Several members of the Inner Circle are already gathered.”

  Dash sighed and started walking. Getting to the Command Center meant he had to backtrack, then take a long elevator ride. Of course, the Kingsport, when it was finished, would be far worse for getting around. It had a high-speed, mag-level tramway that zipped along in passages deliberately kept open to vacuum, but it would still take the better part of an hour to make a complete trip around its final circumference. A short walk and a few minutes of elevator ride didn’t seem so bad in comparison.

  Still.

  “Custodian, can’t you just, you know, tell me what it is you need me to decide? Do I really have to trek all the way to the Command Center?”

  “No, and yes.”

  He sighed again and plodded on toward the elevator.

  “Okay, what is it that’s so important—?” Dash started, as he strode into the Command Center. But he stopped. Leira, Amy, Conover were already there, along with Viktor, Benzel, and Ragsdale. Someone seemed to have just told a terrific joke because all of them were snickering
, or clearly trying hard not to snicker.

  Dash stopped, casting a suspicious gaze around the Command Center. Even the Duty Ops personnel seemed to be trying very hard to look absorbed in their work.

  “Alright, what’d I miss?”

  Leira, practically grinning, replied. “Nothing yet.”

  Amy snorted out a burst of laughter, then covered her mouth.

  Dash peered around in mild suspicion. “Okay, fine. Custodian, since you seem to be the only one here currently not being a snarkhole, would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “By all means. The other Ais and I have completed evaluating Jexin’s psychological profile and have established a new baseline. A new AI for the rebuilt Polaris is based on that baseline.”

  Amy snorted again. Conover gently smacked her arm, muttering, “Shh.” That just made her snort even more.

  Dash put his hands on his hips. “This shouldn’t be such a humorous event. What am I missing?”

  “Before uploading the new AI to the mech, I wanted your approval for its use,” Custodian replied.

  “Okay. You’ve never asked me to approve any of the others. What’s so special about this one?”

  “That will soon become evident,” Custodian said. Then a new voice spoke up.

  “Hey, Dash. I’m Newton. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  Dash heard a new voice, but one he instantly recognized because it was his own.

  He let out an indulgent sigh. “Ha, ha, very funny. Where’s the real AI for the Polaris?”

  “You’re talking to him,” Newton said. “I realize it’s probably a bit of a shock, but you can take comfort in the fact that I’ll kind of immortalize you. Seeing as I’m, well, more or less immortal.”

  The rest of them couldn’t contain themselves any longer. They all burst out laughing. Ragsdale stepped beside Dash and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You’ve got competition for Leira, brother,” Ragsdale said, grinning like an idiot. “Better up your game or you might find yourself replaced.”

  Dash looked down at his feet and scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. When he looked back up, he was nonplussed.

  “I would . . . prefer . . . we don’t do this,” was all he said.

  Leira walked over to him. She was still chuckling, but Dash could tell she was trying hard to be serious. “It’s not a joke, Dash. Really, it’s not. Just hear Custodian out.”

  Dash relented. “Fine. Custodian, you’ve got thirty seconds to talk before I put on my Messenger hat and order you to delete—” He stopped, fumbling for a word. Benzel stepped toward him with an even more idiotic grin than Ragsdale.

  “Yourself?”

  Custodian spoke up. “The reasoning is straightforward, and sound. Because of the accumulation of traumatic events in her life, exacerbated by her recent capture by the Deepers, Jexin’s psychological profile has changed. Based on the nine thousand, eight hundred and fifty-two parameters set by the Creators for the compatibility of an AI with a mech pilot, Newton is the best fit.”

  “By quite a margin, in fact,” Newton added.

  “There’s got to be another personality you can use,” Dash said, followed by a long-suffering sigh.

  “There are none that would ensure the same degree of compatibility with Jexin. The Creators’ parameters were very clear and specifically designed to synergize AI and pilot as much as possible. Any other personality would be less effective, which would, in turn, translate to a loss of combat effectiveness,” Custodian said.

  “Yeah, but—me? Really?”

  Leira smiled again, but this time it was more genuine. “Actually, Dash, you should be flattered. What this is telling us is that Jexin basically trusts and respects you more than anyone else.”

  Dash turned toward the main viewscreen, which held its default image of the master star chart. He used the moment to take a mental breath, then turned back.

  “Okay. I get it, I guess. But isn’t this going to be confusing? How will anyone know whether it’s me, or—”

  “Newton,” Amy said, snickering. Conover gave her another admonishing nudge, so she nudged him right back.

  “Sure. Newton. How can we ensure he and I won’t, you know, trip over one another’s words?”

  Newton replied. “It’s the Meld, Dash. Anyone Melded with their mech will just know. And as for anyone else, well, they’re smart people. They’ll work it out from the context.”

  “As a further measure, Newton will refrain from using any comm channel other than the one connecting the mechs, except in a case of extreme urgency or emergency,” Custodian said.

  Dash laced his fingers behind his neck and looked up at the overheads. “I just know I’m going to regret this.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Leira said. “Besides, now I have a backup version of you, so it’s all good.”

  Dash gave her a wicked grin. “Custodian, how difficult would it be to make a virtual Leira? You know, just in case I need a backup.”

  Dash finally arrived in the infirmary to find Jexin already in conversation with Newton.

  “Hey, I was just talking to you,” Jexin said, baring her teeth in a fierce smile.

  Dash raised a finger. “Okay, new rule. We do not make any more jokes about Newton being me, or vice versa. In fact, consider it an order. I’m far more charming than that bag of circuits.”

  “Newton told me you’d say that,” Jexin said, then held up her hands. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. That’ll be the last time.”

  Dash nodded his acknowledgment but was immediately struck by how much more even-keeled Jexin seemed to be. She sat up higher in bed and spoke more brightly, and her eyes glittered less with suppressed rage and more with genuine enthusiasm.

  She was, in other words, more like the Jexin he’d come to know and consider his friend. And that pissed him off a little because it probably meant Custodian and the other AIs had been right about Newton.

  As soon as he thought that, pissed off suddenly became touched.

  Dash smiled. “Spending time with your new, supremely weird AI aside, how are you feeling?”

  “Ready for combat,” Jexin quickly replied.

  Dash looked at her leg, still swathed in a regeneration sleeve. “I think you’ve got a little more flight time to put in here first.”

  Jexin grimaced. “I know. And I hate it. I want to get back into the war.”

  “You will. And soon. I said a little more flight time in this bed. Custodian tells me you should be up and about in another two or three days.”

  “That’s two or three days too long.”

  “If the Deepers decided to hold off any incursions for at least that long, I think everyone’s going to be happier, don’t you, Jex?” Newton asked, and she finally nodded.

  Dash bit back an exasperated sigh. That was exactly what he was about to say.

  15

  Dash had mixed feelings about leaving the Kingsport so abruptly. On one hand, an absence might offer some time for the stupid snickers and remarks about Newton to finally die away. On the other, he’d realized as he flew the Archetype past the Greenbelt that he really could use some time off. Sitting with Kai under the mellow-fruit tree on the farming ship had been the most genuinely peaceful moment he could remember in—

  He wasn’t even sure how long. Maybe since he was fly casting in the lazy river back on Pristine, one of the nearly ideal planets that had been bequeathed to the Cygnus Realm at the end of the Life War. He still remembered that moment vividly, making silly small talk with Leira, then being interrupted by Custodian to inform him about the Black Gate. That instant had marked the end of peace and the beginning of the war that now raged against the Deepers.

  He sighed as the Greenbelt slid past and vanished behind him, then he checked the tactical display. Conover and Amy were behind him in their accustomed wedge formation. Behind them came the Stalwart and a squadron of four heavy cruisers. Eight more escort-class ships wove around the margins of the formation. It
was a lot of combat power to be taking to investigate what might just be a comms failure.

  But it might not be just a comms failure, so it was better to be safe.

  “Sentinel, any updates from Lomas?” he asked.

  “Not since her last report. As far as we know, the Teller system remains entirely dark.”

  Dash hmph’d his acknowledgment. Teller was a Rimworld League system. It mainly consisted of a gas-mining operation harvesting deuterium and helium-3 from a Jupiter-like planet. But the discovery of some rich deposits of heavy radioactives in one of four asteroid belts had prompted more development, so now almost a hundred thousand Realm citizens called Teller home.

  But it had gone completely dark and silent. Lomas had asked Dash to investigate why.

  Which, on the face of it, was strange, since Edge, the nearest League system to Teller, was literally much less than one percent the distance away. But Backwater was even closer, which meant that the peculiarities of transiting through gates meant a shorter flight time from the Kingsport than from Edge. Dash also suspected Lomas was a little leery of dispatching League forces to face what might very well be a Deeper incursion since only a little over half of her fleet had been upgraded with Unseen tech and weapons.

  As soon as they were clear to translate, Dash led the task force on its short hop to the gate still open on the quietly sinister Deeper platform, and, from there, to Backwater.

  “Sentinel, I’m not seeing anything to indicate Deepers, or anything else for that matter,” Dash said, studying the tactical display. He’d brought them out of unSpace well short of the Teller system to give them time to evaluate the situation. All he saw, though, was an unremarkable yellow-white star. None of the data even hinted at the presence of Deepers.

  For that matter, none of it hinted at the presence of anything at all.

  “Agreed. There are simply no comms emissions from the system at all,” Sentinel replied.

  Amy came on the comm. “Do you think the Deepers maybe raided the place and destroyed all their comms capability?” She didn’t bother adding, Or maybe just killed everyone and left? Because she didn’t have to.