“What’s going on, Clive? Any luck with stopping these… beds?” Skorra had always considered herself a scientist and engineer amongst her people. Most would have found the realisation that all their theories were wrong embarrassing, but for Skorra it had been a revelation. She had absorbed everything she could about the Sword and science behind it, and whilst she didn’t grasp everything yet, she was excited to try. Skorra knew that Clive wasn’t a person, at least as she understood it. Instead, he was a computer program, running in the circuits of the Sword.
“I’ve tried locking some of the doors to keep them corralled but the bots keep overriding the locks when they need to pass through. It’s slowing them down, but it’s not perfect.” Clive let out a sigh, an unnecessary affect for an AI. “I do have a theory about the creatures. Yes, creatures sounds right. The nanobot levels within the ship have dropped noticeably since production started.”
“Those are the machines so small we can’t see them, right?” Skorra had spent several hours getting Kestok to explain the nanobots to her. “Does the level of them normally fluctuate?”
“Somewhat. There is always some small decrease, generally from those of them that work their way into the more acidic guts of some of our passengers. Thankfully the reserve supplies are enough for several centuries at that rate,” Clive said. Without the floating image of him, his voice seemed to be all around Skorra, echoing through the tunnel. “This drop is much larger, more noticeable. I think, possibly, that they’re being consumed in the production of these bed creatures.”
“You think that’s why they’re alive?” Skorra had seen where Clive was going, racing ahead of his thought process as easily as she had leapt through the hatch.
“Possibly. It might explain the flexible nature of the metal perhaps, if the nanobots are acting almost like joints.”
Skorra thought for a moment. The Merydians, or at least their current society, had only a basic understanding of electronics. Robotics was the realm of the history monks only, nearly forgotten stories from before the ice. In those tales, those campfire fables, the marauding machines were often stopped by lightning from the gods or by stepping into electrified water.
“Is there a way of disrupting nanobots. With electricity? Or something similar.”
“Hmm. Perhaps. The nanobots aren’t particularly well shielded, only so much space on the microscopic level after all.” There was a shimmer of blue light as Clive generated himself a body. The tight nature of the maintenance tunnel meant it was only a few inches high. “There’s a good idea here.” The image turned, pointing off down the shaft. “Take the second left, then the third right. I’ll open the hatch so you can drop down. You’ll find Kestok there. I’ll let him know you’re coming, and we can start work on putting something together.”
“Right,” Skorra said. She nodded, her ears brushing against the roof of the tunnel.
“In the meantime, I’ll try and find a way to stop more of these things being made. And get control of my bots.” The tiny glowing Clive shuddered. “It feels like part of me isn’t doing what my mind tells it. I don’t like it at all.”
“I could see how. So, second left, then the third right?”
“Yes. Though I suggest you hurry. It’s getting rather difficult to keep the creatures out of certain sections of the ship.”
Michael fell through the hologram, knocking his chin against a cold metal floor. His face hurt, but he was glad to find there wasn’t a drop hidden behind it or some dangerous contraption. Instead, there was a tunnel disappearing off into the cliff, it’s walls clad in dull grey metal. It seemed familiar, Michael taking a moment to realise it matched the coating of the spires that hung from the bottom of the world. Along this wall were small circular lights, each giving out a dull yellow-tinged glow.
Aileena was already striding ahead, eager to explore the corridor further. At the end was a sharp turn, obscuring what was beyond.
“Are we sure this is a good idea? We should get Brekt and Mellok down here,” Michael said as he clambered to his feet.
“If something goes wrong then we risk losing them as well.” Aileena looked down at her wrist. “You have a sort of semi-point.” She lifted her wrist nearer her mouth. Around it was a thick brass bangle. Within the shining metal was a complex communications device, powerful enough to reach into space, the signal punching through the atmosphere. “Brekt, you read me?”
“Yep. Any luck?” Brekt’s soft voice seemed quieter than usual like the tunnel was dampening the sound.
“We’ve found a tunnel hidden behind a fake holographic cliff face. Do you have a read on our location?”
“It’s not super clear, but yes. You were coming in clearer a few minutes ago. I’m guessing the tunnel is having an effect.”
Aileena nodded despite knowing Brekt couldn’t see her. The communications bracelets were audio-only. “Right, we’re going to check it out. If you don’t hear from us by tomorrow, you know where to start looking. The hologram is a little off the ground, but you should be able to spot it if you look. At least we can assume the troopers were probably taken, rather than wandering off. The tracks leading here looked like drag marks, and the chances of them accidentally stumbling through a hologram seem low.”
“That’s assuming the drag marks are even from the troopers,” Michael said. “They could be from something else.”
“He’s got a point, Aileena. Still, it’s worth checking out. Ok, tomorrow it is then,” Brekt said. “In the meantime, I’ll keep working on the camp, see if we can get something more comfortable going. Good luck in there.”
“Thanks.” Aileena lowered her wrist. She reached behind her and swung around the rifle hung over her arm, bracing it against her shoulder. “Better draw your weapon, just in case.”
“Right, yeah, of course.” Michael fumbled at his bag, fishing out the sidearm. He had chosen this gun from the pile they had accrued simply because it seemed the easiest to use. The weapon was shaped vaguely like a human handgun, though it had a trigger guard that stretched from the front of the barrel to the bottom of the grip, making it resemble an angry triangle. It didn’t have a magazine, the weapon firing an energy blast that Kestok had tried and failed to explain to Michael. The battery would apparently last years, though Michael had been warned that after a few shots it would need several seconds to cool, this style of weapon prone to overheating.
“You’ve been practising, right?”
“When I can.” Michael winced. He had tried to practice, but Aileena had proscribed it daily, and he wasn’t anywhere close to that frequent. “I can hit Winston now.” Clive had donated a bot to Michaels training, the machine slithering back and forth with a sheet of metal clutched in its tentacles, a crude target painted on. Michael had named it Winston after a high school bully, thinking it would help him focus his aim. It hadn’t worked.
“You’re supposed the hit the target, not the robot holding it.”
“It’s a start.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Try and point it away from me at least.” Aileena began her march down the tunnel, weapon ready. She reached the end, half vanishing around the corner. “Come on then.”
The tunnel led downwards, sharply dipping before levelling out for a while. Eventually, these flatter areas would turn again, another descent beginning, winding like a staircase down into the earth and rock. It had been nearly an hour before the tunnel had opened, revealing its destination. The exit to the tunnel was outlined in a glowing blue, a doorframe of brilliant light.