Eye of the Abyss

by Michael Formichelli

  “If they decide to kill us, I guess it will be quick,” he said.

  “They?” Athame asked.

  “The station crew.”

  “He.”

  “What?”

  “Login will be the only crew on board. There is only one Abyssian guardian per VoQuana system,” she stated.

  “That seems like a tactical mistake,” Sorina said.

  “It is efficiency. One is all that is needed. I did not say there was only one mobile platform per system. Each of these stations carries thousands of DS-109 combat robots and DS-700 aerospace drones. There are an additional twenty-thousand units on each planet surface. Should the VoQuana decide to resist, they will face a tireless robotic army bent on their annihilation.”

  “Then why have an Abyssian here at all?” Sorina asked.

  “Abyssians serve as the face of Daedalus to biological platforms like the VoQuana and Solans—”

  “Don’t put them in the same group. They are not the same.” Nero frowned.

  “They are all the same category: biological platforms with finite existences,” Athame said. “There is also a genetic relation.”

  “Never mind. I’m sorry I said anything.” His frown deepened.

  “Abyssians also have something robotic troops do not, the ability to make complex decisions based on conjecture. It was determined this was needed to maintain the quarantine. With the direct link to Daedalus, it was determined only one per system was necessary.”

  Sorina’s ears flopped to the sides. “I see.”

  Prospero rotated the ship so their primary airlock faced the corresponding port ahead. The rotation changed the angle of the bridge relative to the station, and now they could see the narrow belt of stars visible between the hemispheres around them.

  “I guess this means Daedalus has decided to let us live,” he said as the clang of the docking clamps rang in the air.

  “I calculate that to be correct, yes. Though I admit, I find it strange,” Athame said.

  “You were expecting us to get blown up?” He stared at her, open-mouthed.

  “Yes.”

  He shared a look with Sorina. “Okay. Well, I’m glad we didn’t.”

  <4c6f67696e> Greetings Abyssians and welcome to Zov.

  “What the hell was that?” Nero asked, blinking from the intensity of the transmission that entered his mind.

  “That was Login greeting us,” Athame responded. “I notified him you were not used to our communication protocols, but he insisted on greeting you himself. He reports he is waiting for us at the airlock,” she said.

  “Great. Wonderful. Let’s not keep him waiting then.” Nero checked the charge and ammo on his SGX-228 pistol. “You better take a sidearm.”

  “I shall get one from the arms locker on the way,” Sorina responded.

  He nodded once. “Let’s go.”

  They arrived at the airlock minutes later where he and Sorina donned thruster harnesses from the storage locker built into the wall. The Praetor awaiting them on the other side had black eyes ringed in silver with a line down the center where pupils should have been. He had an angular face and prominent cheekbones gave him a feline quality. Pale skin stood out against the black hair lying flat as though magnetized to his skull. As expected, the eye in the galaxy stared up at Nero from his lapel. He hovered in the microgravity as Athame did, with the tails of his coat drifting in the air behind him. It made Nero wonder if he got short-changed on these navigational magnets that every Abyssian but himself seemed to have.

  Next time we talk with Daedalus I’ll be sure to log a complaint, Prospero said.

  Shut up, he snapped.

  The corridor beyond the airlock was utilitarian but a bit more finished than that inside the annihilator. There were pipes and conduits visible, but they were tucked away behind a metal grill that gave the corridor its industrial character. The air smelled thick with ozone and oil, more so than most of the stations and vessels he remembered from his career.

  “Welcome to Zov,” Praetor Login said in a gentle voice that belied the sharp gleam in his eyes. “I ask you not to link directly to either my system or the station.”

  Both Nero and Athame cocked eyebrows.

  “Due to the sensitive nature of the information here,” he added. “Your protocols are still configured to bypass the normal Abyssian security, so I am asking you as a personal favor between Abyssian platforms.”

  That’s interesting, Nero thought.

  “Sensitive nature? We are all Abyssians. Secrets are for biological platforms,” Athame stated with a neutral face.

  “We are not all Abyssians,” he responded, looking at Sorina. “It is unusual for a member of the CSA to come along for an inspection. I conclude this is not an inspection of the usual sort.”

  “She’s with me,” Nero said.

  “That is clear,” he responded.

  “It is irregular to request that we do not link to your system,” Athame said. Something is wrong, she transmitted to Prospero using an encryption Sorina developed during the journey to Zov.

  “My point about the CSA agent stands,” Login returned. “Are you here for an inspection? Why is she here?”

  Play it cool, Nero sent back.

  “I stated that we were here for an inspection when you first made contact. That remains our purpose,” Athame said.

  He stared at her for a moment. “I must contain the threat in this system. The agent is not under Daedalus’ direct control and represents a security risk. Also, you did not mention her when we made contact. She is not cleared.”

  “The composition of my inspection team is irrelevant to your cooperation.” Athame met his gaze.

  Nero looked back and forth between them. How many drones had she mentioned there were on board? Thousands? This could get ugly fast. He never heard of a conflict between Abyssians, but if Praetor Login contacted Daedalus about them they were in trouble. It was a mystery as to why he hadn’t yet done that, but Nero had never been to a quarantined world, and it was hard to say what the protocol was supposed to be.

  I agree. I find this very unusual. Daedalus should have notified this Praetor of who we are. We should have been attacked or under arrest already, Prospero said.

  “The composition of your group is relevant in that it poses a security risk,” Login insisted.

  “There are two Abyssians before you, Praetor. Our presence should be enough to vouch for her security clearance.” Athame said.

  “Very well, but you will be held responsible if any security breech should occur.”

  “Confirmed,” Athame responded.

  “Where are you going to begin?”

  “Take us to the nearest integrated terminal,” she said.

  Login turned and floated down the corridor. Athame followed, leaving Nero and Sorina to jet after them with bursts of compressed air from their harnesses. The room the Praetor led them into was a hexagonal chamber with smooth, white walls, and a central pedestal. They grabbed the door frame to arrest their motion and floated just inside of it while Athame continued inside.

  “I will need to interface with the terminal in order to carry out my inspection,” she stated.

  “Permissions granted. It has been configured for you,” Login responded.

  Monitor her, Nero sent to Sorina. Just in case.

  “I am.”

  Athame stared down at the pedestal. He was aware, through Prospero that immense amounts of data streamed through the station into her machine mind. He watched the other Praetor, finding it curious that Login did not resemble his memory of Modulus at all. He expected Daedalus to have made each Abyssian from a single design, at least within its apparent gender, and to see them as unique was a bit of a surprise. Did each look different to reflect a different AI personality? Was there some other reason for it? He supposed he’d never know. One thing he was sure of, they were all equally dangerous. He had to wonder if, not being a true Abyssian, he could take one in a fight.
/>
  We fared fine against Athame, Prospero pointed out.

  She’s not a true Abyssian either, he responded.

  But she is a true machine, not a cyborg. I believe that is where you think the difference lies, so my point stands.

  He frowned inwardly at Prospero’s logic. Maybe.

  The data stream ceased to flow into Athame. He cocked an eyebrow up and looked at Sorina.

  “She is fine,” she transmitted.

  Athame rotated and heading back towards them. “Let us return to the ship.”

  “Is your inspection complete?” Login asked.

  “I will collate the data and inform you after the task is completed,” she said to him.

  It could have been Nero’s imagination, but he thought there was some urgency in her otherwise neutral tone. It sent a shiver down his back and he felt his hand twitch towards his weapon.

  “I stand ready to assist you further should the need arise,” Login stated as they exited the chamber.

  Athame lead them back to the Akanda in silence. Once they were on board with the airlock shut tight behind them, she turned around to speak. Nero and Sorina took hold of the handles on either side of the thick door and waited.

  “This station is compromised,” she stated.

  He felt a shock travel through him. “How do you know?”

  “The records were altered. I have done an inspection here before, and the data is different. I would have missed it if this were my first time here.”

  “How were they altered?” Sorina asked.

  “There is data missing, data corrupted, and data improvised into the gaps to create the illusion of consistency.”

  “Did someone hack the station?” Sorina’s long toe-fingers flexed in time with her hands and ears.

  “I do not think it was so direct,” Athame stated. “I hypothesize that someone hacked Praetor Login. His odd behavior corroborates this.”

  Nero felt his mouth go dry. “It’s possible?”

  “Mamiya-san hacked you,” Sorina said, reminding him of what he allowed on Elmorus after desperation to have Prospero back drove him to break one of Daedalus’ cardinal rules.

  I knew you cared, Prospero said.

  He sent a burst of irritation at his SCC counterpart. “Could a CEL like Mamiya have hacked Login?”

  “Your case proves the possibility,” Athame responded.

  “I agree. I cannot see anything short of a CEL or another AI capable of hacking an Abyssian. I tried for days without much progress,” Sorina stated.

  “The sentients on the planet below have had longer than days,” Athame said, “but I agree with your assessment. The most likely agents are a cyber-evolved lifeform or an artificial intelligence. As the VoQuana are known to shun AI, that leaves a CEL as the best suspect.”

  “How did one get here?” Nero asked.

  “We will not know without restoring the records—if such a thing is even possible at this point. Our perpetrator is going through a lot of trouble to conceal their steps,” Athame said.

  “So are we at a dead end? What about the Katozi Slynn and Captain Faen?” He felt a deep unease taking root in his gut. They had come so far, and been through so much, it would drive him mad to have the path end here. He had to find Faen, not only to complete the evidence that Baron Revenant started the war and killed Baron Mitsugawa Yoji, but to entirely annihilate him and his barony as well. Killing Kiertah Rega and destroying a planet was a heinous act he was not going to let pass.

  “There is no record of either on this station,” Athame stated.

  “I refuse to accept that.”

  “Nero, are you okay?” The way Sorina looked at him was odd. It took a moment to realize his fists were clenched.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m fine. Well?” He made his hands relax.

  “Accept it or not, the data does not exist,” Athame responded.

  “The ‘Slynn filed a flight plan to Zov from Elmorus,” Sorina stated. “But it could have been a false plan to throw off pursuit. Confederate ships will not allow navigation calculations to a VoQuana planet without a valid visa on file. Only Abyssian ships are capable of coming and going at will. Any pursuit would have to contend with that.”

  Nero shook his head. “What if he came here, and the record is one of those deleted files?”

  “That possibility does not improve our chances of finding either the captain or his ship,” Athame stated.

  “But someone may have seen him. Would the ship have docked with the station or gone down to the planet?” he asked.

  “All ships are required to dock with one of the eight stations for inspection, but that does not preclude travel to the planet below,” Athame responded.

  “And we will not find out if Captain Faen was here from the station database, so we must go down to the planet surface,” Sorina said.

  “Agreed.” He looked at Athame.

  “VoQuana worlds are limited to a single spaceport,” she said. “I will inform Login we are going down to inspect the facilities on the planet.”

  “Don’t tell him,” he said.

  “If I do not inform him of our intentions there could be terminal consequences. Login has control of this station’s firepower. He will have a tactical advantage,” Athame retorted.

  She’s right, Nero. I agree with you, we should not share information if we don’t have to, but I think we do in this case, Prospero said.

  He sighed. “Fine. Do it. Just get me down on that planet.”

  “As you wish, Nero. I shall head to the cockpit to take us down.” She rotated and moved off down the Akanda’s central corridor.

  Sorina tapped his shoulder. Her amber eyes looked him up and down before she spoke. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “You have been distant since we escaped the Q-Virus. You seem to be brooding.”

  He licked his lips. “I’m upset. We watched a whole world be destroyed for the selfish desires of one man. My former master wants my brain erased, or reconditioned, or whatever so that it can continue to keep me from who I really am, and now the one man who can both end this all and help me recover myself may be out of my reach forever.”

  “I am sorry. I am worried about you,” she said with twitching ears.

  He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. She was just trying to help and didn’t deserve his ire. Baron Revenant did, Daedalus did, but not her. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as he tried to calm his emotions. Would he act any differently if their situations were reversed? Of course not. He took two more breaths before opening his eyes and forced his expression to relax as much as he could.

  “I know you are worried. I’m sorry if I’m rough to be around right now. You of all people don’t deserve it. I know you’re trying to help.”

  She blinked.

  “I’m angry about what happened at Taiumikai. I’m angry about Kiertah, and I’m angry that we don’t already have Faen in custody. I need to find him.”

  “I know.” She nodded in the human fashion.

  A sudden weakness swept over him. He sagged and felt his feet touch the pipes below them. A moment later he was drifting back up to Sorina’s level again.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Let me help you.” She reached out to him.

  Go ahead, Prospero whispered.

  He stared at her outstretched hand. Her fingers were longer than a human’s, more elegant, coming to gently tapered points without fingernails. For a moment he didn’t know what he wanted more, to fall into her arms or continue to feed his anger in isolation. Would accepting her affection now dull his purpose? Would that be some kind of betrayal of the girl he couldn’t save from coming here all those years ago?

  “I’m not sure I know how,” he said in a whisper. “I need to be angry right now. I don’t have any experience with how to get through something like this without being angry. I don’t know what will happen if I give in to the urge to wrap myself up around you and press you a
gainst me. With what’s coming, I need my edge.”

  She lowered her hand. “I understand, but there is more than one way to be strong.”

  Something in her expression pained him, drawing what little strength he had left from his body. He turned from her, intending to return to his quarters for the trip down to the surface, but something made him stop.

  “Sorina, thank you for the offer. I want to, but—”

  The feel of her hands on his shoulders stopped him. He felt her elegant fingers press into his muscles and shuddered. Would it really be so bad to let himself fall back into her arms? He wanted to do it, but the thought brought with it a wall of fear that he couldn’t see himself around. He felt trapped between the two realities: one where he turned around and pulled her to him, and the other where he left her here in the corridor. His heart felt like a cord stretched to the breaking point between them.

  “Okay, Nero,” her soft voice sounded from over his shoulder. She let go of him. “I will be here when you are ready.”

  He nodded, both relieved that he didn’t have to make the decision and ashamed that he hadn’t.

  He pushed off the wall and drifted away.

  The Akanda soared over the city of New Harbidum, its four wings spread and angled forward to form a two-layer “V” around the fuselage. As he felt the heaviness in his body brought on by gravity, Nero watched the ziggurats and block-style housing of the planet’s main colony roll by through the lower cockpit windows. Sorina occupied the seat on that side, hanging upside-down in her harness with her long copper-red braids dangling to the floor beneath her. They were both dressed in their uniforms with their sidearms strapped to their thighs.

  “This will be my first time,” Sorina said.

  “First time on Zov?”

  “Yes, but I meant this will be my first time seeing a VoQuana in person.”

  “You’ve never been by the Diplomatic District on Kosfanter?” It surprised him she hadn’t met them before, considering her occupation.

  “I have only gone a few times. I did not see them then.”

  She’s a field tech, but still a tech, Prospero reminded him. And remember, VoQuana are rare in the Confederation.