Ravana's Shadow (2) (Patreon)

The air around them settled to silence. Kit’s suit clicked, right near the helmet. It didn’t twist off on its own, that was her decision to make. A steady green glow replaced the readout of various climate sensors at the bottom of Kit’s view. The interior was safe. 

The door opened, sliding along smooth tracks with the precision of something fresh out of the factory.

Within was another vast space, about twenty meters across on each side. There were two floors, with sloping balconies a little like a theater. The walls resembled those she’d seen all over the institute, flexible composite displays with the fidelity of human vision and more. Yet these were plain, showing only a smooth metal wall and armored conduits running vertically.

A dozen different stations were arranged throughout the room, all placed so their view of the displays would be clear. Their chairs were the same as those the institute used, albeit about twice the size—complex mechanical devices, with various jointed cushions and support structure to grab and hold whoever sat there.

None of that interested her quite so much as the light, though. A perfect sphere sat at the center of the room, recessed into the floor so that only a meter or so emerged. Heavy metallic structures surrounded it on all sides, breaking the textured metal plates.

She ignored the other things—doorways on either side, wrecked stations, a few piles of melted debris.

The fox followed Kit, though not incredibly close. She bounded around her in circles, occasionally prodding at a wire or aiming her sensor-eyes at one of the stations. “She kept it,” Maddie said. “All this metal! We could’ve built so much with this.”

None of the machines reacted to Maddie, but the same wasn’t true for Kit. When she walked past, the chairs clattered and swiveled, turning towards her. Worse was the pressure against her head, flowing through her implant each time.

Weapons not responding, said one, flooding her thoughts with diagrams and strange objects. For a split-second she wasn’t a girl with a tail, she was an array of lasers and launch tubes and tracks of mines and stranger things she had no names for.

Then something nudged her leg, a little fox toy. That act of will was enough to pry her mind free.

You feel it, Icarus. Your wings were frozen, mine were melted. But I knew the same death as your Aether. We spread ourselves to cover the ducklings from the eyes of watchful hawks above. You remember how it feels.

She passed another few stations, with similar results. Except for the last, which showed her a much brighter view—heat and life, captured somewhere far beneath their feet, sustained by a flow of hydrogen isotopes trapped by mechanisms yet unknown in her own time. 

She reached the sphere then, gasping and delirious. Her own body was still there, fingers and toes and bright red fur and all. Her fingers still worked, and she could still reach her helmet. She twisted, removing it with a slight hiss of air from the seal.

The air beyond smelled metallic, with a distant hint of ash. Not the familiar sterility of the Institute’s mild soaps, and the occasional minor stain from spilled food. This was different.

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Maddie said. Now out loud as well as into her mind. With the atmosphere there was no need to use their shared implants. “At least if you’re wearing the suit, there isn’t as much it could do to you. Whatever this is.” 

The robot seemed to sniff at the sphere in front of Kit, though she didn’t dare touch it. 

But the squirrel didn’t care. Whatever fear Forerunner obviously felt, whatever terrified Maddie, Kit knew none of it. Only the comfortable warmth of the sun, as real as if she’d stepped outside on a warm day in spring.

She slid down to her one knee, resting the helmet on the floor beside her, and closed her eyes. Light shone through, though tinted faintly blue instead of red. That wasn’t the sun’s fault.

“You stand before the Acheron, cousin. I apologize that I cannot provide my typical hospitality.” As it spoke, the sphere pulsed faintly, sunlight modulated into hidden depths. 

“Oh no,” Maddie whispered over the radio. “Kit, we should go. Wren always said to stay away from him.”

Kit’s eyes adjusted as they never would have under a proper sun, and she found she could look into it, and see…

Vast ships moved in a dark sky, far larger than the Aether—bigger than any station she’d ever visited. They cast long shadows over strange worlds, which shimmered and warped at the edges. They slid through space like stones skipping along a pond, briefly charged then falling back down into the universe she knew.

“It worked,” she said. Real tears streamed down her face now. Her body shook, gloved fingers touching against the glass surface. “It wasn’t for nothing. Forerunner said…”

Maddie settled onto her haunches beside Kit. Her eyes were no longer moving, her tail and ears didn’t twitch. Was she distracted by something in her real body?

“The machine is your nursemaid. You are weak and helpless, it is true—but only because of my captain. She created this place, made Ymir of me. But you are not one of her helpless kittens. She did not birth you as another mewling thing to hold in the place of our crew. Though you are small of stature, a woman yet remains. A human ought to stand. Rise, Captain Katlin Rowe. Bow not before your cousin.”

She wasn’t bowing. Even so, Kit stood. “Katlin… Rowe,” she repeated. “How did you know that? Even Forerunner wouldn’t…”

“Forerunner knew,” it said. “Your name fills the archive recovered from that ship. But I did not need to search the carpenter’s library. I do not know your face; I do not know that tail or the ears they’ve grafted to you in mockery of homeworld’s birth. But I know the Aether. And I know its pilot. There are songs about your mission, Captain Rowe. In ancient days, you inspired every brave pilot who entered the coordinates of a new system into their drive and prayed the saint of the lost would keep them safe. A thousand times explorers claimed to find your ship, and a thousand times they were wrong. But here, beyond the light of the farthest star, you stand.”

“I’m just… Kit, now,” she said. “Not a saint. I was a block of ice. Guess I… kinda missed out on all that exciting human history stuff.” She looked down at the fox, but she wasn’t even twitching anymore. “Maddie, can you hear me?”

“She cannot,” the computer said. “I silenced her signal, as I silenced Forerunner’s. All except the monitoring broadcast within your chest, tucked away in the cognitive center he wrote you into. Let the carpenter know his child is safe.”

Kit bent down, scooping Maddie into her arms. She’d held the fox many times by now, usually to bring her along on her various exploratory missions. Many had ladders, or gaps not suited for a fox to navigate. 

The fox didn’t adjust herself realistically, resting her forelegs on Kit’s shoulder. The toy remained limp, its tail hanging, and ears still pointed sideways.

“I told you, Maddie’s human too. She’s the head of Engineering, and my friend. You don’t have to hide this from her.”

The machine said nothing at first. When he did, she finally heard her first hint of annoyance. “I remember that one. She can share the blame with my captain for planting such poisonous weakness in her mind. If she stands before me, perhaps I will forgive. Not wearing a coward’s puppet, however.”

The sphere darkened a little, turning from noon sunlight to the purple and orange of an oncoming sunset. 

“You’re the… persona. Of Wren’s ship?” Kit asked. The former Director hadn’t exactly been open with the details of her old life. Kit knew only the basics, that she had a ship of her own, and arrived at Forerunner’s call. That, and she’d been running from something, after suffering some unknown terror.

“I am the Acheron,” he said. “Or what remains of me. This room, a few small sections, and the central reactor. All else has been stripped, melted, forged, and born anew many times. The world you now live in was hammered from my bones.”

“Do you… hate us?” She took a single step back, curling her tail protectively around the fox in her arms. “Because we’re small instead of big?”

“I could not, cousin. Not you, not even the one who wears that mask. Your Forerunner is the house over your head, the fire in your hearth, and the bread on your plate. He is the breath in your lungs and the clothes you wear. But I—I am the watcher and the wall. I am the bow on your back and the sword in your fingers. Alone, you are a child, and I am a machine. Together we become the bastion against the void.”

Kit saw more—not one ship, but uncountable millions, scattered across the interstellar void in tight formation. Against them came a flood of identical drones, joined together into larger units. A wall of mass, energy, and death approached like the rising of spring tide, with all that was vulnerable and small behind them.

She screamed, legs shaking under her. One wobbled, then collapsed, dropping her to the ground again. “Stop!” she whimpered, holding the limp fox tighter to her chest. “I can’t! Not all at once! I’ll…”

“Break,” Acheron said. “Your mind is ancient, yet weak. You are the ore of the deep earth, pure and rich. Yet untempered, even steel is brittle. You fracture so easily. The Tide would wash your mind away like sand. Don’t you wonder why my captain does not melt or crack like your brothers and sisters?”

Wren was Director for over ten thousand years. The only one who never needed Remedial to keep her sane. 

Kit’s vision filled again—and her other senses with it. She was naked in a scorching desert. Hot sand burned her feet, her neck—but not her back. The tail offered her a little protection. She screamed as flesh burned; hands naked on baking metal.

As quickly as it came, the vision faded. “The strongest steel is made from good iron. First it is heated until it boils, until the dross bubbles away and only the pure metal remains. Then carbon is added, exactly what the alloy will require. Blasted through the heat of the forge, the metal gains its strength.”

Kit opened her mouth to protest—and she was somewhere else again.

Earth, but not one she’d ever seen. The sky overhead was strangely dark, almost metallic. Great mirrors shone over the landscape before her, bathing the trees and flowers in reflected light. A tower of steel rose before her, with stone steps flanked by tall flags. 

“Cadet?” said a voice, sharp and commanding. A woman stood beside her, wearing a black uniform. Her face was etched with faint lines like seams, revealing wires beneath the skin. “Cadet, stand up!”

Kit jerked sharply to one side, as though someone had just yanked on her spine. She flopped over sideways, collapsing on the floor of the bridge. For a few seconds she barely even breathed, conscious only of the angry pulsing sun before her.

She gasped like a fish taken from the river, sucking down deep lungfuls of air. Where was she?

“He found a way to disable your implant.” Acheron said, annoyed. “That can be easily remedied. A medical station waits around the corner, Katlin Rowe. Let’s replace that toy with something practical.”

Finally, she got her legs under her. She wobbled, ascending only with the help of the sphere. “Acheron, I—I’m not ready for this. That isn’t why I’m here.”

“You didn’t know why you were here, cousin. I called you. My captain has deserted her post, and I require another.”

She shuddered, lifting her helmet from the ground at her feet. “I’m here looking for a way to save this colony,” she said. First it was a whisper but growing braver by the second. “I’m not here to be captain of anything! I want to keep them safe.” She set the helmet down atop her head, twisting the seal into place.

Acheron couldn’t whisper into her mind anymore. But the radio hissed, and his voice came from there instead. “Of course you do. They can be saved. Even the carpenter serves his purpose. The material he provided can be put to a better use. We will tear the moon apart beneath your feet, shatter the ice and drink deep from the iron well at its beating heart. Before that tide rises and washes away what remains of our ancient mother.”

Kit bent down again, scooping up the fox that had slipped from her fingers. Forerunner bought me time; I need to go.

“You can’t rewrite my head,” Kit said. “That’s not why I’m here. But if you know anything I can use to help Mara, or maybe you have some resources that you’ve been holding back…”

“Nothing more can be removed,” Acheron said, bitterness thick in his voice. “Or the bridge crumbles. Will one room make so much difference? My captain has already removed everything in service to this… Institute. Yet you replaced her. Halcyon Morgan, fallen to a voice of ancient Sol. You should not uphold what she has built. Your Forerunner keeps you helpless to serve his own ends. Men were mighty once. Be so again.”

Kit continued until she reached the door. Her tail smacked up against it, still protected by its pressurized envelope. “Please let me go, Acheron. I will leave this bridge alone, but I am ready to go now.”

“You shouldn’t go,” he said. “Cousin, listen to me. You have no idea what is coming. Why do you think my captain ran? Sooner or later, the Red Tide will find this new home. What will it discover—children clinging to their toys? Do you think that hiding under your bed will keep you safe? Do you think it can feel anything? It will not show you mercy because you’ve made yourselves weak.”

The door hissed behind her, sliding open. Kit backed into the airlock, then hesitated. The far side illuminated bright white, while air hissed around her again. 

“Hear the voice from the dust, cousin. You are the fulcrum, she with the authority to mend both our broken wings. Your nursemaid is bound, his wrists tied to directives of the ancient pioneers. Remember me when you feel your hearts race in that tiny body, Katlin Rowe. The night is cold, but you will not die in nitrogen ice. The children of Sol were meant to burn.”

Finally, the light went out. Kit spun, grasping desperately for support—and found it.

Forerunner’s drone was already inside, waiting for her. A dozen others now stood just outside, many holding heavy tools. One carried a glowing cable, another industrial cutting torches. A few more held other things, objects Kit had no names for. Weapons?

“Forerunner!” She flung herself at the machine, wrapping her arms around its hard plastic chest. Strong arms lifted her from the ground, fox and all. 

“I’ve got you, Kit. You’re safe now.” The drone patted her back, just firm enough to feel through the hard fabric. Forerunner carried her weeping to a waiting transport.