Forerunner's Child (17) (Patreon)

The surface transport was similar to the vehicles that took Kit around the ring when she had a lab to visit. Instead of rows of seats, the interior was mostly restricted to life-support hardware, then a small section in the back with an airlock, ramp, and room for four occupants in full gear. Or maybe two, if they were normal sized.

Kit had the space mostly to herself, aside from the packed box with Maddie's drone. Forerunner didn't send any of his robotics. There were no windows in the transport, just a screen on the front she could use to view status information, life support data, position, or to look out from the many external cameras.

Naturally Kit left it on one of these, so she could learn more about the planet that was now her home.

Mostly she saw an untouched landscape of pale sand and rock, without evidence of erosion or any atmosphere to speak of. That left almost every surface defaced by scars and abrasions, with the occasional crater. Their path took them weaving between some of these, along a more or less entirely flat volcanic plane.

But Kit wasn't a geologist—she wasn't terribly interested in the rocks themselves. What drew her eye were the occasional signs of infrastructure—narrow white spires of something like ice, linked with spindly cables along the top.

There were other signs—an occasional excavation into a crater, or ground cut and leveled. Part of that included the road she was riding, a mostly-flat stretch of gravel and ice frozen into a rough approximation of concrete.

"We're traveling away from Solstice," Forerunner said, sometime into the trip. "If you're looking for their domes, you won't find them heading in this direction. For reasons you can probably imagine, they were unwilling to permit us to land the Aether anywhere near their borders."

Kit had her helmet and gloves off, though otherwise she had her suit comfortably in place. If the Institute gave her the luxury of pressurized transports, she was definitely going to take full advantage.

"That..." Her ears folded back, her tail pressed against her suit. Aside from the umbilicals directly attached to her body, sticking her tail in a sack was definitely the worst part. Squirrels might not sweat, but she did, turning the suit’s interior into its own miniature sauna.

"That is a little weird. The Aether might be old and out of date compared to everything you build... but it's still an incredible discovery. You needed the resources so bad you're already melting it down. Don't other places need those minerals too? Wouldn't a population center want them more than anyone?"

Maddie's blanket remained folded and clean. It would probably stay that way until the return trip.

Forerunner took a lot longer to reply to Kit's questions outside the Institute's domes and tunnels. But even compared to the other requests, this one seemed to come back sluggish.

"I'm sure there are many private individuals who would desire salvage rights to the Aether," he finally said. "But Mara's academic community decided that the Institute was the superior choice. As part of that agreement, we will share all data recovered or scientific discoveries made freely with all other parties. The materials are payment to the residents for service performed. Significant for you, but meaningless to a city of any size."

"Scraps go a long way when you're three feet tall," Kit muttered, voice dark. "And you only need one meal a day."

"When converted to those units, you are in fact six inches taller than that," Forerunner said. "In fact, 1.3 meters was selected as the universal height for full templates. The only variation comes from your ears and other animal features. Including your tail, your height is similar to the one you remember."

Kit folded both arms, expression turning sour. You're trying to distract me. Nor was it the first time. Whenever it wanted to misdirect her, the persona just had to remind her of her transformation.

It wouldn't work this time. "How many people live on Mara, exactly?"

The transport rocked and bucked over a bit of rough terrain, nearly dislodging Maddie's drone-box from the chair beside her. Kit leapt to secure it, bracing against it with her shoulder.

"I do not have access to that information. However, there are nine hundred forty residents of the Institute of Perpetual Luminescence. Of those, four hundred ninety-five are in remedial treatment, and the remainder are active."

Kit remained in the aisle for a few seconds, one hand resting against the box. When their path remained steady, she let go, then slumped back into her seat. "More than I thought. My floor..."

"The Institute was constructed using a modular, repeating template. Each central dome contains services, infrastructure, and residence areas. This includes space for two hundred full templates, or twice as many 80% and 70% templates. Most residents elect to share their space with one or more close friends, further reducing resource requirements."

Still not answering my questions.

"You are already experiencing this process with Jay. If you follow my projections, you will add a third within the year—likely another girl belonging to a prey species. One is nearing the completion of her time in Remedial and will meet you in the next few months. If not her, then..."

Kit gritted her teeth together, one hand balling into a fist. This was exactly what she needed; more evidence that Forerunner was micromanaging the lives of his residents. Including hers. "How close are we to my ship?"

"Already here," Forerunner answered. The screen changed, displaying a view from a camera on the side of the transport.

They rolled along the Aether's impressive length. It rose above them now, gently sloping to its maximum width of thirty meters for the central spire. Encircling rings and warp projectors were either already removed, or else broken from their connecting struts to litter the ground.

They kept rolling, right along to the crane and cutting equipment. Most of it was now covered in dark shades, pinned against tall support-poles.

The ship itself was entirely unprotected, lying on its belly like a half-butchered animal.

Kit made her way to the screen, squinting at the image. Modern displays didn't ever seem to have a maximum layer of detail—if she got closer, she saw more. What she saw this time was methodical extraction of the industrial and reactor sections, while the crew capsule remained basically untouched—except for a single opening, connected to a metal ramp.

"It was never meant to land," Kit whispered, lowering her hand from the screen. "The lander... it's in your workshop. It would take me up and down while the ship stayed above."

At least Forerunner managed to sound sympathetic. "I am sorry for the loss of your ship, Kit. I took very detailed scans of the vessel from orbit, before it suffered the damage you observe. I could even produce a model for you."

"I would... I'd like that."

Something stirred from nearby, muffled grinding followed by a squeal. The box toppled sideways, spilling foam along with its robotic occupant. The fox emerged from inside seconds later, shaking herself free of the debris.

"Positional said you were... there!" She looked around, before her eyes fell on Kit. "Not ready?"

"I'm close."

She was. It took only minutes to secure her helmet and get both gloves in place. For better or worse, mechanical interface with her body meant the suit was much less disorienting than any other she had ever worn.

The transport rumbled to a stop more or less directly beside the ramp. Kit removed her tool bag from a hook.

It was all there, the suite of cutters, welders, and manipulators, albeit with a handle about twenty percent smaller. She tested one, and found her glove fit snugly inside this time. She wouldn't need both hands to work these.

"Use your interface instead of the radio," Maddie said, as though she were directly beside her. "Signal integrity is much higher than the drone."

Kit spun, looking down at the mechanical fox. If there were alterations to make for going out of atmosphere, they must already have been in place. There were no fox suits on board. "How are you..."

"Your bow," Maddie said. And at the exact same moment, the fox spoke, coming in directly over her helmet radio. "We're on the clock for this mission. You need time to disengage. That transport will work as a shelter if the sun comes up, but we'll be scrubbing cancer out of your genes for weeks if it comes to that."

At the same time, another voice overlapped the first, as though the fox had stood on tiptoe next to her ear and was whispering.

"I wasn't completely honest with you—or the rest of Engineering. It's about more than supplementing your knowledge in the field. Don't look at me. Back to the ramp."

Kit obeyed, making her way to the exit.

"Depressurizing," Forerunner said. "I will provide regular status updates. When I give the departure ultimatum, I expect you to honor it."

"I will," Kit said, without hesitation. "I don't want to get cooked alive by radiation. My ship will still be here tomorrow."

The air hissed and billowed inside the cargo crawler, throwing little foam beads everywhere. But Maddie's whisper came in clearly anyway.

"Forerunner can't read your thoughts. That same injunction stops him from reading anything sent through the interface. It's the only way to say things he can't hear."

"Only way you can say things he can't hear," Kit shot back. Her mouth didn't move, yet somehow—she heard her thoughts, amplified. There was something there, like a daydream that appeared in her mind, and lingered without any thoughts of her own.

She saw a forest, extending perhaps ten meters in every direction. Maddie rested beside a stream, bare feet in the water. Few specific details came through, other than the bright orange of her ears and tail.

Kit was there too, standing in exactly the pose she occupied in the real world, only without the suit.

Except she wasn't. Kit was standing on a ramp, waiting for the airlock to open. That rush wasn't water, it was the air pumping out of the compartment. Maddie wasn't here, just a cheaply converted toy turned makeshift drone.

"Careful. Not too far, or you'll lose coherence with your body. You just need to talk."

"Depressurization complete. Please aim for a mission time of two hours." The door opened, unfolding so the back was almost entirely exposed. A ramp descended, giving Kit an easy few steps to the rock beneath.

Before her was the Aether—one of the greatest achievements of human space exploration, yet somehow irrelevant. It was her ambition, her home, and her grave.

She'd always known the Aether was huge—but never imagined just how enormous it would look from the ground. Even with the lower ring crushed beneath it on landing, the vessel was still bigger than any single area of the Institute. The same couldn't be said for its modest crew capsule—most of that space had other uses.

"I assumed the backup would be located in the crew compartment," Forerunner said. "You weren't willing to give details. If not in the landing section, it must be aboard. Somewhere you could reach it easily."

"Medical," she whispered. "Not sure how much of it you'll be able to see, Maddie. It was built for microgravity, so... might have to do some climbing."

"There's always a future visit," the fox said. "I've been inside many times and seen most of it through this drone already. I'll just follow around and watch. Think of me as moral support."

"And don't tell him about this," she continued, voice shifting back into that unheard space in a hazy forest. It grew clearer if Kit tried to follow it, with her real vision clouding. Anywhere else, that balance would be difficult to keep.

But now—now she had no trouble. No matter what they told her, Kit might not get another chance to visit this ship.

Kit tested the ramp with one foot and found it sturdy. Between her size and the gravity, the platform didn't even bend.

There were no handrails, but the ramp was wide enough she didn't care. Kit kept well into the center; her tail extended as far as the suit allowed. With that balance, she couldn't fall.

"You haven't told me why," Kit said silently. She kept her focus on herself, reaching just far enough to speak. She saw nothing but her own ship, incredibly intact for the journey it completed.

"I should perhaps note as you begin your investigation," Forerunner said, conversationally. "Data reconstruction has become incredibly sophisticated compared to the techniques you probably know. However, I cannot do miracles. I can’t assemble information that does not actually exist."

Kit nodded, keeping her eyes on the ramp ahead of her. She was really listening for Maddie, but so far, the fox said nothing. She just followed—probably so Kit could talk to the AI without raising suspicion. "I know that. I'm sure it's good enough to reconstruct anything I was carrying. You woke me up."

The AI was silent for a time, long enough for Kit to reach the hole in her ship. She stopped just outside, where heavy clamps attached the thin ramp to the bulky, over engineered interior. There had once been an airlock here, though no longer—someone had sliced out the whole door, along with every related mechanism.

"I believe I have expressed before—the preservation of human life is central to the Pioneering Society. Mastery of biology, robotics, and the mental sciences was paramount to my creators. Perhaps if other factions on other worlds had captured your ship, they would have respectfully mourned your passing. Not me."

Kit tapped her chest, activating the bright spotlights there. Through the door, her airlock now towered overhead, roughly twice her height. Most controls were within reach, though she would be hard pressed to look at any displays and manipulate them at the same time.

That weakness was moot—nothing on the Aether worked anyway.The walls were still painted. An eternity in an airless, heatless abyss left much aboard intact. Including me. If I rotted, not even magic future tech could save me.

"I only say this by way of... encouraging you not to go directly to your mainframe. The holographic glass memory there was incredibly stable, but also fragile. It was all lost irretrievably."

The inner door was missing too—detached from its hinges with a few delicate cuts. She stepped over, glancing along the familiar hallway. Black lines pointed back to the reactor, material processing, and the industrial block. She ignored all of those and went directly to the ladder.

She wrapped one hand around the rung, then stretched up to the next. The motion was not easy—it might've been impossible on homeworld gravity.

But Kit was a long way from home. Besides, Forerunner made her into a squirrel.

"To qualify for an interface, I look for three things. Mental adaptability, so my implant doesn't get recycled instantly. Competence and leverage, so you can make a difference—and an eye for seeing when something's wrong."

Kit climbed slowly, securing her grip on each rung before taking the next. Even for a human being, the decks were far apart. At her new size, they were even farther. "With Forerunner, you mean?"

The fox wasn't physically following anymore. As she had said, the robot remained at the bottom of the ladder. She didn't head off in either direction to explore the decks available there, just sat and waited.

But it wasn't Maddie that spoke next. Instead, another mind seemed to appear in her vision, another outline in that forest. Wren—a little deeper than Maddie, but no less confident. "I told Maddie what you told me. And that you were placing calls out of the Institute asking questions. You saw something we didn't."

Kit stopped for a second, grip slacking on the rungs of the ancient ladder.

"Are you in distress? Kit? You appear distracted."

"No." She swung forward, hard enough that she smacked into the wall, then got one leg to loop around the ladder. She had incredible flexibility, far more than any suit stored on this ship could provide. She got her fingers back in place, then kept climbing. "I'm fine."

When she was back into a steady rhythm, she continued. "You mean that Forerunner is babying us? Micromanaging our lives? I can't be the only one to see that. That's... self-evident."

Maddie made a noncommittal sound. But here, Kit felt her disagreement, even when not quite strong enough to express as words.

"That feels more like... cultural differences," the fox eventually said. "This isn't about philosophy. This is more concrete. Forerunner lies to us. Subtly, carefully—but imperfectly.”

Kit passed the crew deck and kept climbing. Her quarters, medical bay, restrooms, library—all the facilities she might need to live, built into a few interconnected rooms. She had higher to go—the medical bay remained above.

"Lying about some things makes us concerned about others," Wren agreed. "All our information comes through Forerunner. Anything we didn't invent, anything we don't record ourselves, goes through him eventually. He handles our resources, he passes messages to the rest of civilization on Mara, he does everything. We need to know what he's hiding from us."

Kit continued up the ladder a few more rungs, forming her response before she tried to send it. Moving her body and communicating through her thoughts was a bit like performing separate tasks with each hand—if her concentration broke, she might lose coordination and drop herself.

A fall in this gravity might not be a problem. But if the impact damaged her suit, she could just as easily die of exposure.

"I only know about one, if that's what you're gonna ask. But it was obvious right away."

Maddie laughed from somewhere in that invisible forest, just out of reach. "I didn't expect you to know anything yet. This was going to be a warning—and instructions for some things to look for. You'll be on the surface more than anyone ever has. Forerunner can't change your eyes the way he can change our cameras. But if you do know something..."

"More than what you told me already," Wren continued. "You're not wrong about the level of control Forerunner has over us. That's not a secret. Worth a conversation, sure. But we don't need to mesh together to talk about it."

Kit reached the top floor. She hadn't realized it—having somewhere else to focus made her own awareness of her body far less prominent.

But once she made it, Kit stopped after a short distance, crawling up over the edge and onto her belly. She flopped sideways, breathing heavily enough that her helmet briefly fogged.

"One... sec... Forerunner," she whispered. "Need to..."

"I suppose this warning would've been prudent earlier. Don't forget your size or development. Even with the suit, your endurance and strength are both far below your previous self. As your mind and template fully acclimatize to the lower gravity of Mara, this will be even more true. You were not designed with redundant muscle tissue."

Normally that would turn into an argument in itself, with Kit demanding to know why Forerunner would design templates with abilities far less than his understanding of biology would permit. They could go days without sleep, so why get sore or strained either? Why use living muscles at all?

She only nodded, expecting Forerunner could see it. But now that she wasn't climbing, she could speak without worrying about falling to her death.

"Forerunner is eager to tell me how much he cares about humans. Our safety, happiness, and development. The way he says it makes me want to believe him."

"That's true," Maddie said. "Personas have directives. They're fundamental to the way they think, no different than any human values. That's how we can have this conversation. He has to protect us, help us. It's not that something stops him—he can't even imagine a universe where he doesn't want to."

Kit rose onto her hands and knees, her breathing steadying. "If that's true, how does he allow so much suffering on the rest of the planet? All of us get to be happy, but people out there are barely surviving? Your families are dead, right? Recorded somewhere instead of living. But the instant he found me, he spends all kinds of resources to bring me back to life."

Kit stood. Her spotlight reflected through the control deck, dimmed by broken machines and corrosion. It covered every surface, turning even the deck bumpy and uneven.

"Please be careful on this level," Forerunner said. "Once I discovered there was a human aboard, urgency became the priority over preservation of the archeological significance of this ruin. There are open shafts, rubble, and industrial equipment still present from your extraction."

Kit nodded. "I'm... grateful you did, Forerunner. Even if you made me a squirrel."

There was almost no delay to the computer's reply then—nearly as fast as the messages in her mind. But neither Maddie nor Wren had said anything in a little while. How much could they see through the interface?

"I am pleased to hear that, Kit. As unpleasant as your first memories might be, I took special pride in your fabrication and revival. I build the templates of every resident, but few have the honor of being the first member of their species."

Kit wasn't really listening anymore—not to the AI, not to anyone.

She was finally here—the entrance to the medical bay. Its doors were missing, along with much of the wall. The once delicate equipment within largely lay scattered and broken, all to open the way to a single cryo casket against the far wall. Her final resting place.