Forerunner's Child (16) (Patreon)

They had all kinds of things to talk about—all sounding important, all with implications for the longevity of the base. Rich had some new technique to process scrap metal he had figured out—Kaden wanted to review the upcoming list of external repairs, and the spare parts for each one. Pat had a redesigned transmission antenna to boost range to their remote equipment...

Kit listened patiently to each one, as each kid went into exhaustive technical detail. Despite their size, everyone knew exactly what they were doing in their field.

Even without knowing much about how the Institute's technology worked, Kit felt confidence emanating from the Engineering team like heat. Whenever they did reference familiar principles of physics or engineering, it all felt exactly right.

In a way, that made them more effective and productive than any team Kit had ever worked with. There were no wasted seats around this table for military or political appointees, no financial observers from the funding corporations forcing sacrifices and demanding timetables for profitability.

Their leader was the hardest to read, at once intimately knowledgeable about everyone's duties, yet also impatient and easily distracted. One moment she suggested further refinements to Pat's antenna, the next she had a little plastic brush, and she was working the tangles out of the drone's tail.

She still somehow managed to be alert enough to keep the meeting moving. They lingered with each member of her team just long enough to check their progress, find out what they needed, and make suggestions. Then they were on to the next, and the next, until Kit's own turn around the circle.

"We know you don't have anything," Rich said. "It's okay, we can move on."

Kit put her tail between Rich and herself, looking at the others instead. "He's right. Nobody told me to do anything."

"You passed your field certification," Kaden said. "And Forerunner says you're exceeding physical conditioning requirements. Did you read the operations manuals we sent?"

She nodded, ears folding back on her head. “Yeah. I read everything."

"Then you're doing great," Maddie said. "As of right now, Kit Red Squirrel is head of field operations. Any questions you have about the Aether go to her first. Only pass them to me if she can't answer you."

Rich groaned. "She's a pilot, not a scientist. Why would she know?"

Kit cleared her throat. "Because she couldn't just be a pilot. She was the only crew on a mission scheduled for a minimum of fifteen years." She was also supposed to be asleep for most of that, though she didn't have to volunteer that part. "She knew everything about operating her ship. She could derive the Alcubierre field equations with a slide rule if she had to. And she was way nicer than you."

She folded her arms, projecting far greater confidence than she really felt. But her tail was way bigger than his, so she could use that for extra size. The chairs helped too, keeping everyone at eye level. Maybe she should thank Forerunner for those too.

But not right then. Rich fell silent, grumbling a few not-words to himself.

"I know we all had... a long list of questions. I think that just added a few more. But Kit and I have an important mission to finish before the sunrise, and not a lot of time left. If there are any important enough to keep you from working, ask her now. Otherwise, we'll deal with them later."

They shared a look, quiet, maybe even shy. Her forcefulness was enough that even Rich looked intimidated. His tail hung limp, instead of smacking into the wall behind him every time he looked at her.

"I have one," Abel said. "You said... Alcubierre field. Are you implying your ship was capable of producing such a field? Did you really crack the lightspeed barrier? With that ship?"

Kit took another slow, deep breath. No matter how he said it, she had to remember the perspective these kids came from. Their technology—at least with biology, robotics, and computing—was so far beyond anything she understood that Kit could barely even comprehend it.

"No one has," Rich said into the silence. "That’s one of the cruel, immutable realities of the universe. That's why there's no intergalactic empire. Or... any other signs of life past Mara. They're too far away, too slow to reach us."

Kit stood up in her seat. Tiny squirrel or not, this was the moment she'd been waiting for since she first woke up. These were the engineers of a new era—those most likely to understand and appreciate her mission, and the sacrifices that made it possible. "I wasn't the first mission. We successfully produced warp fields for far smaller-mass ships. The Aether was meant to be the first of a fleet—to explore other stars, not just the rocks and gas gravitationally bound to our home star."

She gestured behind her at the huge screen, with her ship lying on its belly, broken. "You're all here, so far from home that Forerunner says the Sun doesn't even burn anymore. The technology must be... well-understood science by now. With all the other amazing things you can do."

"One would think," Maddie said. She scratched at her head, ears folding backward. "I think perhaps I may... maybe read about something like this. But I'm not sure."

"We didn't come here faster than light," Pat said. "Forerunner landed on Mara way, way slower than that. Then he grew the first colonists, they built Mara... and a long time later, they built the Institute."

Kaden nodded his agreement. "I can't speak to the rest of your mission. But we detected the Aether's approach in time to catch you."

Kit's ears folded, and her tail sagged. But she wasn't finished yet. "My jump was successful. I don't know how far—I was barely defrosted before the Aether started failing." She took one step back, pointing at the image of her cockpit. Thanks to all the material cut away from around it, she could even see the glass. "I did it.  The Slipstream experiments worked."

"Not well enough to get you home," Abel said. "Forerunner's history has all kinds of ships—star drives, generation ships, seeds. Our ancestors never figured it out. That might be because your ship never worked."

Kit faltered. Heat rose to her face, but it wasn't anger. Even opening her mouth to argue with him only made her stomach twist in knots.

Forerunner spoke so she didn't have to. "We might be able to simulate her drive technology, if we could retrieve the data from the Aether's central computer. Unfortunately, it was destroyed upon landing. The etched-glass storage medium shattered beyond reconstruction."

Kit knew that already, of course. Forerunner told her, though she couldn't quite remember when. Or maybe it was someone else? It still felt like a knife in her chest. The computer with a copy of everything on the ISS Aether's scientific database—schemas and fabricator blueprints and her favorite movies and probably thousands of letters from home, at least the ones her receiving antenna could catch.

"That ship sure lasted a long time," Sawyer said. "Ancient humans wanted things to survive. They got you here in one piece."

Rich suppressed a giggle. "I wouldn't say one piece."

Sawyer spoke over him. "Forerunner poked around for backups but couldn't find any. Where should we look?"

Kit lowered her tail, as deliberate and confident as she could. "I won't tell."

She let those words settle on them all, particularly Rich and Abel. See if they would keep talking to her like a kid who didn't know anything!

"But I will get them for you," she said, finally breaking the awkward silence. "We had... a complete backup. I know where it is."

More silence. The others shifted in their seats, obviously uncomfortable. Maybe she'd gone a little too far with her bravery?

Maddie folded her hands together in front of her. "It must be small. We scanned the whole ship. Any big hardware, we already found."

"Tiny," Kit agreed. “I could carry it at my size.”

Maddie stood up. "Forerunner? How long until sunrise? Hard to keep track of time when you're awake this long."

"Slightly under six hours," Forerunner said. "With transport time, five.”

"Not enough," Pat said. "Tomorrow?"

"It’s her ship. She’s not trying to figure it out like we are," Maddie said. "Where's your fastest transport?"

"Right outside the workshop tunnel, waiting for those drones," Forerunner said. The conference door opened, and another robot wheeled in.

This one was little more than a box with treads underneath, a box packed with soft foam and sealed with a clasp. "Kaden...."

She didn't have to finish. The other fox got the clasps open, then lowered the animal inside.

"Is this how things usually work down here?" Kit asked. “Always moving a little too fast?”

"Yes," Abel said. "Even the new girl can see it."

"You would think there were no deadlines when you're immortal," Maddie said. "Unfortunately, you would be wrong." She waved out the door. "Thanks for coming to the standup, everybody! I'm excited to see how your projects go. Expect to hear back from Kit about her database in the next few hours."

"I expect to see her in a crash cart on her way to Fabrication," Rich said. "You're way too optimistic, Maddie. We uplifted her—a few weeks ago. It's a miracle there's even a person standing there. There's only so much polish you can use on a brain. Forerunner should overrule you."

Kaden closed the box. As soon as the fasteners were sealed, it rolled back out the way it came.

"If the safety of Kit Red Squirrel or any other resident is put in jeopardy, I will," Forerunner said. His voice echoed through the conference room, a little louder and harsher than usual. "That I have not should tell you everything you need to know."

They left. Abel vanished almost as fast as the drone. Pat stopped long enough to wish her luck, before taking the other door up the steps to somewhere else in the office. Sawyer and Rich lingered beside her near the door, long enough for the deer to take her hand.

"Are you sure about this, Kit?" He nudged her ribbon with the other hand. "Whatever pressure you feel to agree—you can still refuse. You're already moving so much faster than anyone expected. You don't have to charge the dragon headfirst. There will be awesome stories about this. But if you do it tomorrow, or the next day, or the next year, the stories will be just as cool."

"I'm not scared of going out there."

He let go. "Sure. Just remember—you can back out.”

Rich approached next. The leopard loomed over her, then took her shoulders in a single, sudden motion. "Kit. Squirrel. Look at me."

She looked. "I can tell you don't like me. That's okay—I don't care if people like me." A lie—she saw the way his ears moved when he said it, the way he couldn't look at her. Forerunner was right about these templates—they were terrible liars.

"I'm not saying this to be mean or stop you from having fun. I'm saying it because I tried that interface before you. They sent me to Remedial for a year. Beau is still down there right now." He let go of her shoulders. "It's been a long time since the Institute got anyone new. Even if she's a weird barbarian... she deserves to have a real life. She doesn't have to burn herself up just because we want answers. Okay?"

Rich broke into a jog and vanished out the airlock.

That left three of them. Kaden gave the engineer a brief hug. "I'll have those treats ready when you're done. Should I make some for the new girl?"

Maddie nodded. "Promised her cookies. Real frosting! Make sure."

"Will do." He gave Kit's shoulder a gentle pat, then turned to go. "Can't wait to see what's on that database. Are there any pictures of the homeworld?"

"Tons," Kit said. "And a lot of other stuff.”

"I'll trade them for cookies." He left.

Maddie took her wrist, tugging her towards the hidden door. As before, the screen opened as they approached, and cold air drifted past. "It's really not as scary as they think. Just a quick test, and we can go up. Won’t really need it for this first mission anyway. But if there are going to be side effects, I’d rather find out in my office."

She stopped in the doorway, spinning back around so fast her tail smacked Kit's knees. "But if you don’t want to try, that’s okay. We could reschedule.”

Kit grinned back at her, zipping her suit the rest of the way up. “I’m not afraid of the sun.”

What was Kit supposed to find in the chief engineer’s private office? Expensive equipment, maybe dangerous prototypes, relics of unfinished designs that hadn’t survived to production?

That wasn’t what she found. After removing her shoes, Kit was allowed onto a vivid plush carpet, little twinkling lights strung along the ceiling to produce a shallow illusion of starlight. There were workbenches with a variety of complex tools—but there were just as many stuffed toys bigger than Kit herself, in various animal shapes.

She tugged Kit through the room, past a few quietly humming fabrication machines to the far corner. There, a canopy of shimmering net hung over a squishy bean-bag chair.

“Where’d you get one so big?”

Maddie released her wrist, gesturing dramatically. “Behold, the control nest! Only one of its kind in the Institute. The technology isn’t in terribly high demand when most of us can’t use it. Do well enough with that interlink, and maybe one day I’ll build you a drone. Maybe.”

“We don’t even know it will work for me,” Kit said. She reached for the net, and it turned for her, little tendrils opening and extending towards her skin. “Is it alive?”

“Kinda. Anyway, you’re right. Bathroom is right there, and there’s snacks in the fridge. If you need either one, now’s your chance. I don’t have the rest of your suit here; that’s waiting by the transport airlock. Make sure you’re ready, and we’ll run our interlink test.”

A few minutes later, Kit had a fresh watermelon drink in both hands, sipping eagerly on the nutritional slurry within. Not real water, but it didn’t have to be. She didn’t have real blood either.

“Now’s the part where I admit there’s a tiny, teeny bit of risk in what we’re doing,” Maddie said. “For you, I mean. The Institute hasn’t recruited an expert on mind-machine interface, and Forerunner has been profoundly unhelpful. Whenever we ask about it, he always says—”

“The Institute has more promising directions of research,” he said, at once cheerful and completely uncompromising. Like a familiar argument between old friends, still unresolved after decades. “I remind Maddie that material science, mineral extraction, and fabrication efficiency are the most critical needs of citizens across Mara. Exploring larger fusion reactors might also be beneficial, but we currently lack the resources. Perhaps when the salvage of the Aether is complete.”

Maddie’s tail flicked back and forth in annoyance. “See? Stuff like that. He lets Sawyer and his brain-types poke around and rebuild people but plug someone into the mesh and he’s getting jumpy.”

Kit squeezed her drink into a crushed stick of cardboard and plastic, then tossed it to the trash. This time, she didn’t even miss.

“Done? Perfect. Anyway… because he gives us basically nothing about this stuff, we had to work it out ourselves, then wait for resource allocation to fabricate anything. Point is, there weren’t studies on this. It’s all kinda… hacked and glued together. If you let Forerunner make you big, then forget it. No link until you’re the right size again.”

Kit’s eyebrows went up. The right size for stuffed foxes and fairy lights? “Wren’s bigger than this.”

“Oh, right.” Maddie waved a dismissive hand. “If I understood the ermine, maybe I’d be promoted to director. But it doesn’t matter if she can use it, cuz she’s always busy with other stuff. Can’t help me with engineering problems when she’s keeping the Institute happy. Lucky for you, you’ve got nowhere else to be.”

She removed something from a nearby shelf, another plastic envelope. “Here. For your trip back. Last time I rode a surface transport, it got freezing.”

Kit took it, then pulled it open.

Inside, she found… a blanket? A blanket as thick as her thumb, stitched with little acorns and squirrels. Except for the Engineering logo.

“You’re… really sure this is gonna work?” Kit asked. “Maybe you should’ve let me try on your interface before you made me one. I might waste it.”

“Eww!” Maddie took a step back, sticking her tongue out. “You know that bow goes all the way into your skull, right? They aren’t for sharing. When you take it out, the fibers are actually still in your scalp, in case…” She trailed off. “We don’t share them. Or try to take the fibers out, once they’re in.”

Kit whimpered. Her tail squeezed tight, ears folding backward. “You engineered a whole body from scratch! Forerunner made me smaller without even trying! Couldn’t we have ‘control fibers’ already?”

“Yeah!” Maddie turned on the wall, hands on her hips. “Couldn’t we?”

“I respect the founders’ vision,” Forerunner said. “External investigation and maintenance were never meant to be required. Under those original conditions, neither of you would be having this conversation.”

“They don’t get in close to your real… important stuff,” she said. “No brain, remember? You put it on your head because it hijacks the primary optical bundle. Also, because an antenna works best with lots of wire. What has lots of wire? Bows.”

She hopped sideways into the oversized bean-bag bed, rolling and shifting on the foam until she found a comfortable space. “Anyway, I think you’re ready to go. I’ll switch the drone on when you get to the landing site. Forerunner, you can lead her to the transport now. And back for treats when it’s over.” She sat up suddenly, eyes sharp. “Better mean it about the backup though. I gotta trust the kids on my team.”

Kit lifted one hand, nudging the oversized bow. “What about the part where I could fry my brain with this thing?”

“You won’t,” Maddie answered. “We’re done.”

Kit wrapped the blanket tight under her arms, leaving them free to move and her tail poking out the bottom. “I’m going onto the surface!” Kit said. “The leopard told me someone is still in Remedial after doing this. Like, stayed insane. What if I lose it while I’m up there?”

“Insane?” Maddie repeated, indignant. “Beau doesn’t wanna grow up. That’s not the same thing.” She gestured around the office. “This was the test. You don’t look sick to me.”

She snapped her fingers dramatically, and at once Kit’s surroundings changed. Instead of a plush room with dolls and twinkling lights, there was only an empty, prefabricated office. The furniture was all shoved up against the wall, in the same place that her advanced machines once stood.

Only the corner was real—a bean bag chair, a little bathroom, and a minifridge.

At least her blanket didn’t disappear.

Maddie stood back up beside the bed, which was now very clearly just two mattresses pushed together in the corner. “Pretty neat, right? Based it on my bedroom. As fun as it would be if we had more fabrication credits.”

Kit shivered, backing away another step. “You can’t just trick me like that! Forerunner said you aren’t allowed to lie!”

Maddie smiled innocently back. “I wasn’t lying. The last time I told someone about the test, they were too scared to even try it. Look at you!” She snapped her fingers again—and the illusion returned. Cozy carpets, lights, fox dolls.

She retreated, resting one hand on the doll. She felt the stitching on her fingers, then pushed it sideways. It flopped down with a convincing thump. “I do like this version better.”

“Obviously. It is better. And look, you’re not even vomiting! If you feel even a little queasy, you can call Emma. Otherwise…” She pointed out the way Kit had come. “Sunrise won’t wait. Don’t you wanna see your ship?”

Did she feel sick? Kit held still for a few seconds, feeling for any sign of discomfort. Other than her general annoyance at Maddie giving her a permanent implant without permission, she felt fine.

“No more modifying me without giving me all the info first,” Kit said firmly. “That’s not very nice.” She turned, leaving Maddie’s illusory room behind.