“Maybe I’ll get there, in time.”
“No. I don’t think you will. I’ve met your kind before. You act grizzled, tough, like a life in the military has worn you into a gnarled nub of a person, but deep down you’re an idealist. You’re the sort to either get everyone killed, or actually pull it off.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” Orson said. His communicator chirped, and the voice of Nguyen began to drift out, announcing the Shield was opening its hangers and sending a ship to collect refugees. It was a smart move, saving the very people they had come to recruit. Nguyen had proven herself more than capable at every turn. Orson had enough experience to know that his real lucky break was her being chosen to crew the Gallant.
“Personally, if you’re ever not sure something is a compliment, best to assume it is. Everyone gets along better then,” Meggok said.
“I’ll have to remember that. Good advice is the Knower’s purview, after all.”
Brekt looked at Orson, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t a religious man, not really, but something about the human’s willingness to bend faith to his whims was unsettling. “You know, there’s another side to the Knower story. A dark mirror, the Teller of Lies.”
“Yeah, I’ve been called that before.”
“The Teller is supposed to be a false prophet, someone who leads people astray. You could argue that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“Maybe,” Orson said with a shrug. “But what about Michael. What’s to say he’s right when he says he’s the Knower?”
“He doesn’t,” Brekt said with a wide smile. “He spends most of his day trying to convince people he isn’t the Knower. It drives him mad.”
“That wasn’t what I saw on Ossiark. There he made the claim.”
“To try and save himself.”
Orson held up his finger as he made his point. “So, he told a lie then, from his perspective. Cast himself as a false prophet? The truth, the real honest truth, is that no one really knows who is the Knower of Truths and who is the Teller of Lies. And to a point, it doesn’t really matter, does it? These things are all about the myth behind them, and the legacy a person leaves. If someone doesn’t match a prophecy exactly but manages to complete it anyway, the differences just get changed a little in the history books.”
“That’s a pretty cynical way of looking at it. It’s not wrong though,” Brekt said.
“History is written by the victors.”
“That another saying for the Knower pile?”
“Something like that,” Orson said.
They had reached the end of the ramp that led down into the hanger. It was still as much of a mess as it had been when they had entered, crowds of people trying to get themselves aboard any ship they could. The fire had been put out at least, though the smoke still lingered in the air as the station’s worn-out life support struggled to cope. Brekt could see the Seeker now, sitting across the bay. On the other side was Orson’s ship. Someone had scrawled something obscene across the side with red spray paint, a tiny act of defiance towards the Council.
“Ok, give him to us,” Orson said, gesturing to Michael. “We’ll get him to safety.”
Brekt nodded and shifted Michael off his shoulders, placing him gently on the ground. As he did, Michael moved slightly, shifting his seated position.
“I think he’s waking up. Michael? You alright Michael?” Brekt tapped the human on the shoulder as he spoke.
Michael’s eyes opened with a start, his head shifting slowly as he took in his surroundings. Within his irises was a faint red glow.
“Target identified,” Michael said. There was a deep booming bass to his voice. “Target species already indexed. Unable to collect for recycling. Moving to eradication.” Michael raised his palm, there was a loud hum, then a crimson blast of energy burst outwards.
Clive looked around. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, not really. He had detected the signal and traced its source, but this wasn’t exactly the outcome he predicted. Clive had spent time after the discovery of Eden conversing with the Custodian, learning how he had hijacked the Sword’s systems. It seemed like a good idea, a way of protecting the ship should something similar happen again. It had proven to be a wise choice when Clive had detected the same kind of interference. He had been able to shut it down immediately, protecting the ship, protecting himself really.
The big problem was that he couldn’t prevent the incoming signal from interfering with things outside of the ship itself. That meant the nanobots within Michael, and when Clive had tried to connect with them to check he found a nightmare. The tiny machines within Michael hadn’t been shut down, instead, they had been repurposed, acting alongside the hostile invaders.
There was only one-way Clive could think of to try and help Michael. Do a little hacking of his own. His time with the Custodian had given Clive enough inside knowledge to piggyback on the signal the massive planet-sized ship was sending, weaselling his way into its systems.
Clive had found himself standing in a forest. It was odd, he had expected to find complex folder systems or separate dedicated servers. This was strange. The trees seemed familiar like he had seen them before. They towered over him and had large flat leaves. They were almost tropical. Everything had a vivid red colour and a slight shimmer to it.
“Right, where to start?” Clive said. He took a step forward, picking a direction at random. This data scape had no kind of labelling, or markings, so any direction was equally as likely to find what he needed. “Nanobot controls have to be around here somewhere, best to start with that. In this… seemingly infinite space. Great. Good. Smart work Clive. Ok, need to get some bearings.”
Clive stopped walking and settled into an awkward crouch. He pushed his legs downwards, launching himself into a standing jump. He managed about a foot before falling to the ground embarrassingly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Clive had never seen a movie, not physically, but he did have the knowledge of every plot and trope, a relic from his job as a missionary and cultural ambassador. He had expected to soar into the air.
“Fine, I guess climbing it is.”
Clive touched the nearest tree. It felt solid enough, despite it being purely a representation of data. The trunk was thick, but the bark cracked all over it allowing for decent grip as Clive tried to pull himself up. It didn’t move under his weight, either the program didn’t account for his actions, or the massive tree simply didn’t care. Clive could feel his arms straining as he climbed. That was a new sensation. Clive had spent his short life with either arms that didn’t tire, or no arms at all. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was an AI, a tool designed to control a robot, or in his current case a ship. He also knew he was human. Michael argued against it constantly, but as far as Clive was concerned being human was more a state of mind than anything else.
He reached the top of the tree, shifting himself so he stood on a branch. It felt like it had taken him several minutes, but Clive, or at least the small part of Clive tethered to the Sword, knew it was only fractions of a second. Minutes in the real world would be aeons in this digital space. That was to Clive’s advantage. Now he had reached the top of the tree he could see giant pillars of crimson light thrusting up into the sky. There were more than Clive could count, the forest stretching for an infinite distance on all sides. Michael’s location was immediately obvious, there was one pillar larger than all the rest, a blood-red artery stretching across the sky. Next to it was a much smaller beam of light, but this one was brilliant blue and different from all the rest. That had to be Michael. It was a trek, but time was on Clive’s side.