by James Murdo
“What have you done?” he demanded, in shock.
She looked from the creature to the glintshard in her hand, and rested her gaze on him. “I had to.”
“You didn’t!”
Without warning, the creature flew up from the floor, past Tolren and into his module. The casing closed behind it. It sunk into the chair.
They rushed to look at his module.
“Wait,” Tolren said.
She ignored him, pushing past to grab the handle.
“Stop!” he said, pulling her back. “Just stop.”
She struggled against him, tugging at the handle, but the casing would not open.
“Tolren, what’re you doing? Help me!” she shouted. “We’ve got to open it!”
He released her and stood back, letting her struggle in vain. He walked around the other side of the casing to observe the creature as it lay crumpled on the chair. Some of its flaps were draped across the control console, pulsating weakly. Only the occasional red or blue spark fizzled around it.
“I don’t think you can get in once they’re occupied,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean? We can’t let it take it!”
“It’s hurt. You attacked it.”
She stopped trying to enter the module.
“Why did you attack it?” he asked.
She faced him. “You let it steal the module!” She had a wild look in her eyes.
Tolren looked at the sharp object that was still in her hands. “You’ve carried glintshard all along. What for?”
She looked at him coldly. “To protect myself.”
“From whom?”
She pointed to the creature. “Who d’you think? I’m sorry I didn’t grow up in Lillea, Tolren. Life’s dangerous.” She shook her head. “It just tried to attack you, it’s trying to steal our module, and you’re questioning this?” She looked at the glintshard a final time before putting it into her pocket.
“It wasn’t trying to attack me,” Tolren replied.
“How d’you know–”
“It wanted to communicate!” he said loudly.
“How d’you know?!” she shouted back. “Don’t you realise the danger we’re in Tolren?”
“How do I know? Because of that.” He pointed at his pack, which was outside the module.
“What?”
“My pack – when it flew into the module, it pushed my pack out.”
“That’s a mistake. You…” She hesitated. “You must’ve taken it out.”
He shook his head, sadly.
“Tolren–”
“It doesn’t want our things. It doesn’t want to harm us.”
“But… but it’s stolen the module.”
“You attacked it.”
Their argument was quelled as Seremend’s eyes focused on the window behind Tolren. He turned and saw a spire. Sudden movement from the creature caught his attention – the creature’s flaps were pulsating more energetically, spreading themselves over the controls.
Seremend looked uncertainly to the one remaining module. Tolren stepped back. “Let it go,” he said. “Unless you want to follow it without me.”
Seremend glared at him.
They watched empty space through the windows in silence long after the creature’s module had joined the other spire. Finally, Tolren turned to Seremend and nodded towards the open hatch. “Shall we take a look?”
She nodded.
22
DECIDED SACRIFICE
Seremend awoke to find herself alone on the equivalent of the floor of the main cabin, where they had both settled down to sleep. She pushed herself to her knees, still half-asleep, feeling around for her pack. Becoming more alert, she fully opened her eyes and looked around. It was not there. Neither was Tolren, nor his pack.
She rose to her feet and ran down the spire towards the furthermost compartment. Tolren was there, kneeling on the floor beside the single empty module, closing his pack. Hers was beside it.
“Seremend – I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No… no. It’s fine. I thought… never mind.” She smiled, but he did not return the gesture. “Is everything okay?”
He looked guiltily at the two packs.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Seremend.”
“You’re sorry?”
He stood up and took a step back, lifting his pack. “I don’t think we can travel together.”
She stared at him. “Come on, you don’t need to–”
“I’m serious.”
“B-but…” She moved part of the way towards him. “Is this because of yesterday?”
He half-nodded, shifting his pack onto his back.
She moved even closer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I was just scared. For you, and…” She broke off as tears began to run down her face. “Please don’t leave me.”
“It’s not just about what happened yesterday.”
“What?”
“I can’t trust you.”
“Yes, you can!”
“Then tell me the truth!” Tolren said, raising his voice and glaring at her.
Seremend’s eyes widened and she spread her arms. “About what?”
“Why did the Quillians point at you?”
“You can’t be serious, Tolren? You don’t even know if–”
“They’re perceptive. They realise things that others don’t. They realised something about you, and it terrified them.”
“Stop this!”
“I wasn’t the first, was I?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw it, Seremend.”
“Saw what?”
“The blood, in your side-room.”
She brought her hands delicately to her mouth.
Tolren carried on. “There was someone else, wasn’t there? You weren’t injured when we met, so whose blood was it?”
“Please…”
“There was so much – whose was it?”
“Don’t do this,” she implored him.
“I don’t know where you put the body, but I know you did something. Those clothes, when I first arrived – you didn’t pack them to take here with you. You left them in the cabin room. They weren’t yours, were they?” His voice was trembling. “That’s why you never wanted me to go into your side-room.”
“Tolren.” Her voice was hushed. She looked around, as though afraid someone was listening in. “This place… these spires… I think they’re doing something.”
He shook his head. “You did something, didn’t you?”
She nodded and tears fell from her eyes. “I did.”
He took a deep breath. “You killed someone.”
She was unable to look at him. “Are you going to leave me?”
“No,” he said simply, pointing at her pack. “You are.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“You are,” he said again.
“B-But… I don’t want to,” she said, tearfully.
“I’m not giving you the choice. All the rations are in your pack. Next spire, you should go.”
“What… about you?” Concern showed across her face.
“I checked the food dispenser here in what I assume was the private side-room for the creature we found here. I was able to operate it, and the food’s edible.”
“Tolren! No, I can’t. You c-can’t do this!”
He held up a hand to silence her argument. “If you don’t, I will.”
“I’m not leaving you. I won’t abandon you!”
“I’m not giving you the choice. It’s you or me.”
She took another step closer. “Tolren… before you arrived, you have to understand, it wasn’t my fault. I was attacked first. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem normal. He was something else, and he… he knew me. Please–”
“Seremend,” Tolren said, dejectedly. “I don’t want to know.” He turned away from her, looking unfocusedly out of one of the windows. “I don’t want to be man
ipulated anymore.”
Seremend’s countenance changed. She wiped away her tears and looked at him coolly, waiting for him to turn back to her. “How dare you. You don’t know why I did it. You’ve not even asked. And as for the Quillians, they might’ve been pointing at you for all we know!” She strode forwards. He took a defensive step back. Stopping just before him, she stooped down to pick up her pack. “Fine.”
“It’s the only way we can both go on,” he said, less authoritatively than before.
“Think what you want.”
“You lied to me,” he said, adamantly.
*
From within the module, Seremend turned her head around to look at the compartment. Her eyes ended their skirmish by resting on Tolren.
“What will you do?” she asked, in a measured voice.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Nor me.”
“Look,” he pointed out the window. “A spire.”
Her eyes lingered on him. “I would never have hurt you,” she said, and turned away.
“Be safe,” he replied.
“And you, Tolren,” she said.
As soon as her module had gone and the hull piece had re-integrated, the spire started to tremble. Tolren turned around and watched as the hatch began to open.
PART 3
23
RUMOURS OF THE MOUNTAIN
Seremend turned to survey the landscape. Humming to herself, she unstrapped the pack from her back and knelt to rummage around inside. After finding the device she sought, she took it out and stood up. It was fist-sized, with two curved silver prongs that spouted off it, glinting in the light. She placed her thumb against the small screen and it flickered to life, vibrating briefly. She tapped her fingers against the screen, delving through its options to find the correct setting, then pushed the prongs against her neck. They felt warm. The device vibrated to signal the process was complete.
“Hello,” she said, testing her new voice. “Hello. I’m a copy.”
Her voice sounded wrong – a blend of hers and that of a typical copy. She shook the instrument, hit it firmly against her open palm, and tried again.
“Hello. Hello. I’m a copy.”
Satisfied, she returned the instrument to her pack and stood up, simultaneously drawing her hood down further over her face. She carried on, striding towards the small settlement at the mountain’s base. It was the only significant feature in this particular part of the territory, surrounded by a vast, mostly flat, green meadow sitting underneath a vividly blue sky.
The crunching of her boots against the fine gravel of the bare, yellow path was the only sound accompanying her. The air was mostly still – only the slightest breeze. The temperature was pleasant.
She counted eight, in total. Three larger constructs, possibly multi-storied, and five smaller constructs. Up closer, she saw it was not really a settlement as she had expected. More a messy collection of hastily-assembled huts, comprised of various odd-bits all thrown together to create the semblance of something – multi-coloured, metallic patchworks. Higher up, on the largest hut, was a large rectangular hole where some of the material had clearly fallen down, although the ground around the huts was kept clean of any debris. Superficial order, tinged with an indifference that was clearly difficult to hide.
The huts were all to the right of the path, which led up the mountain, towards the fabled hatch-point that had once let copies pass through.
When she was almost past the huts, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around.
“Welcome.”
It was a copy – one of the many machine-lects living on the Outer Layer based on the Original. This copy wore a sleeveless top, with physical connection ports dispersed across his synthetic skin. She could see a few poking out from the base of his neck.
“Hello,” she replied, calmly. Her voice sounded identical to his.
He stepped onto the path. “Where’ve you travelled from?”
“Bundoseln. Ferwenth, before that.”
“And you’re here to enter the cave?”
Seremend nodded. “Yes.”
“It’s that way,” he said, gesturing to the path ahead which snaked up the mountain.
“I know.”
The copy looked around, first at the mountain, and then to the land surrounding them. There were many paths snaking around in different routes, cutting through the self-regulating landscape, although all haphazardly culminated in the same direction – towards the mountain.
“Draws all of us in, sooner or later,” the copy said, facing her again. “The paths are well trodden.”
“They also have a habit of moving,” Seremend replied.
“You may end up wanting to stay.” It moved a step closer. “Don’t believe the rumours, there’s nothing wrong with us. This is just our hatch-point. Ours.”
“Memories of Hope’s up there,” Seremend said, tipping her head at the mountain.
The copy nodded. “Waits halfway up.”
“Always?”
“She does. If she likes you, she may ask you to sit with her.” He glanced briefly at the flask attached to her hip, in the same position as his own, unable to help himself. “This is your first attempt, isn’t it?” She nodded, and he continued. “Good luck reaching the Inner Layer, whatever that truly means.”
“Does Memories of Hope know?”
The copy laughed. “If she does, she’s not telling.”
“Well,” Seremend said. “Maybe the Original will let me through so I can come back and tell you.”
“Doubtful.” The copy smiled, raising his arms forwards unnecessarily to emphasise the connection ports. “Nothing works. I too had been so sure, once.”
Seremend shook her head. “There’ll be a way.”
“You’d hope.”
“What’s in the cave?”
“You don’t know already? You must’ve asked others you’ve met?”
“I ask everyone.”
“Wise,” he said, nodding sagely. She realised he was staring at the base of her chin, the only visible part of her face. The cloak only allowed for one-way vision – from within. He stepped even closer. “What’s your name? I’m Connection of Choice.”
“Nice to meet you, Connection of Choice, I’m–” She was about to respond in kind when she saw three other copies emerge from the largest hut, and politely turned to acknowledge them. They came briskly over. Connection of Choice stood to the side so that they could all observe her.
“This is…” he began, gesturing towards her with an outstretched arm.
“I’m here to enter the cave,” she said.
Connection of Choice exchanged a knowing smile with the others, who all nodded at her benevolently.
“Of course,” one of the newcomers replied. “Although…”
“You will come back this way, won’t you?” another interjected. He was shorter than the others – instead of legs, his lower body stopped at a planar mass that undulated beneath him, enabling him to slither soundlessly along the ground. His flask was strapped a little higher up his waist than the others.
“Of course,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Unless I’m successful.”
They all laughed. One-by-one, she caught their many glances at her flask.
“As you can see,” she said, pointing self-consciously at her hood. “My modification makes me extremely sensitive to the light. It’s a terrible fuss.”
They nodded eagerly, sympathetic to her plight.
“You just need to find the use for it.”
“We’ve all got one, that’s why he made us.”
“Maybe it’ll help in the cave.”
“Our differences are what make us special – each gives a unique chance.”
“The ceaseless challenge of our kind.”
“Thank you,” she replied to each in turn.
“And don’t worry,” Connection of Choice assured her. “We won’t ask you to lift your hoo
d. You’re obviously not the Tracker.” There was some awkward laughter as the copy pointed at the shortest copy with the undulating planar mass. “That’s Slide or Glide.”
“I am,” Slide or Glide said.
“That’s Vessel of Viruses.”
The standard-looking copy smiled and raised a hand, causing the others to move a step to either side. “I’m just making sure he knows it’s me,” he said, retracting his hand.
“Yeah, right,” Slide or Glide said, gruffly.
“And that,” Connection of Choice said delicately, pointing to the last of the copies who had not yet spoken. “Is Shatters the Ear.”
She looked at him through her hood, suddenly alarmed when Shatters the Ear began to open his mouth, before stopping and laughing silently. The others appeared equally relieved.
“Hello, all of you. And again, thank–”
“Indeed. You are most welcome. But…” Connection of Choice began, slowly. The others hushed and leaned in closer. “There’s a little matter… just a little point, that would be good to discuss.”
Seremend leaned closer in as well, asking innocently, “What do you mean?”
They looked greedily towards her hip. “Well…” Connection of Choice said.
“Ah.” She looked down exaggeratedly. “I think I know what you mean.” She moved her right hand across and unclipped her flask, sloshing its contents. Their eyes followed her hand precisely. “This?”
They performed a shallow, synchronised nod. Seremend could see their limbs trembling, flinching uncontrollably.
“Well, I was going to offer. I assumed you might expect compensation, considering you so selflessly guard the path to the hatch-point for machine-lects.”
They began to nod together again, with the repetitive movement picking up speed.
She carried on. “I would have expected nothing less.” She popped the lid off her flask. A strained look came across their faces, as though they were barely able to contain themselves. “Look, why don’t we say I’ll give you each a drop now, and some more when I return? Fair?”
Their flinching ceased and their bodies slackened. They looked stunned. Connection of Choice was the first to speak.
“Usually we ask for a small… just a small donation to the cause afterwards, but… yours seems so full and…”