x
The army of the Trade Federation was anchored on the Miney Ridge on the same peaks that once served as the last line of defense for the Khanate of the Dial. Privates gossiped about it in tents and were unhappy that we were following in the footsteps of the losers. After all, the idea of Master Eleanor to explain the need for my long-ago escape from the camp by the fear of superstition, had solid ground.
No one was following me, and I could move from camp to camp unhindered. Only sometimes, when I met Sha Zumm at one of the posts, I noticed his piercing gaze, as if telling me: “I'm not taking my eyes off you, Master Bike.”
Death in the army, even when there is no clash, is a common thing. Only now I knew it in every detail, because I was present at every one of them. One was poisoned by fish; another fell off a cliff, looking at the butterfly wings; the third tried to escape and fell into the clutches of the duckhorses, which were found here in abundance.
I also discovered a limitation related to my absorption of the dead. On average, to feed on death, I had to be about four hundred meters away from the event. But sometimes I could devour someone from a kilometer away or even two. But this rarely happened.
The remains of the Out laboratory, or “the headquarters of the horned”, as ordinary soldiers called them, were declared safe after about two days, and I was able to go down again to the hall where my purification ceremony was taking place.
I stood at the place where my mother fell and tried to remember if I had seen her, while devouring the energy of the dead. But my memory didn't draw anything like that, and I had a hope that she was saved. Of course, indignation also lived in me. I was very angry at her for doing this to me. But the one the engineer pulled out of me really existed. Moreover, if the worm was an extension of me, then this hidden-settler was somewhere between the edges. Maybe I'm cured, at least partially?
"No, my friend, there is nothing to cure" a familiar voice said in my head.
“Rob!” I almost shouted in surprise. And two soldiers looked back at me from the other side of the hall.
“Be quiet. Don't give us up just like that, right away," my invisible interlocutor laughed, "especially since you absolutely don't have to speak out loud so that I can hear you.”
"So, we get in touch when... I... have the dead in stock?"
“Again no. We are contacting because I wished it.”
I paused.
“They are well prepared. They occupied all the weak points on the coast. But it's too long to defend entirely. I've learned something over the years. Although, I'm sure you're still a more skilled commander than me.”
“I'm a Bike," I almost growled.
"I'm already tired of telling you no. But you'll figure it out in time.
“The engineer pulled this “man from the launcher” out of me.”
“What can a memory do?”
“What?”
“A memory can only remember.”
“What does that mean?”
But Rob didn't say anything. And despite my efforts, there was no answer.
Looking back at the recess with the black liquid, I took out a crystal from my inner pocket and examined it. Matte with a pulsating light, it did not hint at what was inside in any way. But I decided to take a chance.
"A memory can only remember," I said, and threw the crystal into the dark muck.
Nothing happened for a long time. But then a few black threads rose above the surface and began to weave an image in the air. That was… A few moments later, an engineer stood in front of me.
“And where is May-e-oka?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Who?” the man was surprised, adjusting his glasses, “So, wait, now it's going to be very stupid ...” he looked around the space and was even more surprised, “has a woman named Kuf run through here anywhere?”
“Wait. No. There is no Kuf here. I need you to find something.”
“What?” the engineer asked in confusion.
The door to the data bank was guarded, but on my wish, the soldiers opened the passage to us with a bow.
"Here is the data about the memory that I want to... restore," I said, entering the name of May-e-oka.
“Memories, memories. Ancient technology. Xenobots. Interesting. The data is in the bank," the man muttered, dripping into the console menu, "do you know, young man, how xenobots work?”
“No," I shook my head in exasperation.
“A surprisingly simple and at the same time difficult idea to implement. At one time, the editing of the Rana temporaria egg cell made it possible to create a tool for the first evolutionary leap in the field of biorobots. In fact, humans have learned to create self-developing biomachines with programmed code. At first everything was at the cell level, and then DNA editing made them more resilient. And now we have a material capable of self-replication and maintaining stability even under pressure and other extreme conditions uncharacteristic of the original carrier. But still, somewhere deep under the hood, these are just ordinary grass frogs. Funny. Throughout the Milky Way, these xenobots have long been banned due to uncontrolled outbreaks of reproduction. And these Outs ... Eh. Always put everything across the throats. You work, work and no…”
“Can you get the girl back?” I reminded him.
“Um, now, now,” the engineer grunted and moved into the corridor with the data bank.
There he found two empty flickering crystals and inserted them into the console. A sound wave ran through it and the crystals lit up.
“Here you go. Two copies. You'll definitely lose one," the engineer grinned and took out a key.
I froze, preparing to be opened again in many dimensions. But the man waved his hand, turned the key and disappeared himself.
“Red moon," I breathed.
Pulling the crystals out of the slots, I started deleting the data out of habit. This was taught to me by an Out-culture teacher at school. If you leave the data unattended, the intelligence of the device from idleness began to play with it: it could create a simulation based on it, a couple of virtual worlds, populate them with characters, score all free memory with this slag. Then we had to go into debugging mode, remind it that it is a teapot, not a demiurge. And so, this is the case with all the Outs devices. Our forefathers were lousy engineers, no wonder this guy spoke so unflatteringly about them.
But before erasing everything from the panel, I noticed the history of the creation of the memory cast. And my hand itself reached out and clicked on the demonstration. The intelligence of the machine thought for a short time, and then opened for me the life of May-e-oka.
Images and scenes from the very birth of the girl in a family of space repair garage workers rushed before me. I've seen such places at the docks. But everything else. Machines that were brought there. Funny little devices that they put to their heads to talk to the void. The world of May-e-oka was different. There were huge shops in it, occupying a space that could accommodate an entire city from the coast.
Silicon workers and AI avatars engaged in hard work, shining gates, on the other side of which another reality was visible. And ships…Ships ploughing the sky. Needles, plates, huge stations rising to the heavens and disappearing into the darkness leading to the stars. I read about it in the library, but I've never seen it like this, through the eyes of another person. I felt dizzy. And I had to take a break, digesting what I saw.
Master Eleanor Grummays entered the room.
“Oh, there you are,” he smiled and looked at the data panel, “the most interesting technology, isn't it? This cell of anarchists has found a good use for it. If only we could find more of this xenofluid...”
“Judging by what I see, Master, all the power of the federation is going to the south…”
“No,” the man interrupted me, wincing, “we are able to shut only a few key positions in order to raid the enemy's rear and undermine his logistics. But serious resistance is possible only on the northern coast; there we have enough guns that can be transformed into anti-air to prevent them from landing close to the cities.”
“Will you arrange the defense of all free lands?”
“No,” Grummays answered irritably, “in both cases we will transfer the main forces to the mountainous areas, where preparations are already underway. We can't save everyone.”
“And the Plotania?” I asked, remembering my home with a shudder.
"No," Master Eleanor replied, turning completely dark, "we have to leave Plotania.”
“But the fort.”
“For the weapons that the flying fortresses from the red moon carry, it is useless.”
"How... how did he manage to build flying ships?"
“That's what we have to find out.”
“But you somehow knew that he was preparing to attack.”
"We've been watching him from the seventh moon. During its formation, the Irians managed to mount not only cannons on it, but also one of their towers. The recording and surveillance system is still working there. And twice a day we get a clear picture of what is happening on the reverse surface of the fifth. Thanks to the moons that we captured enough Irian technicians, and did not execute them as it was with ... however, it does not matter.”
He walked around the console in a circle, grumbling something under his breath, and returned to me.
“And the important thing, my friend, is that you have to go to the fifth moon.”
"Do you think I'm capable of fighting him?"
“No-o,” grimaced Grummays again, “I see how clumsily you use your abilities. I'm not some fool from the Supreme Council, I understand that resources are needed... however…To hell with it. I want you to learn how to make flying ships, to find the drawings of the engines and wish to create the same one. Judging by the records from the secret library of the Salat Sarai, this is how Rob learned to create his own mechanisms. He spent a lot of time in the archives of Outs that we know about. And it looks like he found a few more that we... yes, damn it, that we didn't know anything about. His technique was simple, when he thoroughly understood the mechanism, he just wished for it. And it appeared in front of him and worked exactly as described in the technical documentation. But to do this, he needed to really understand the device's design. Am I explaining it clearly?”
I nodded and remembered the black goo with the head of May-e-oka.
“Desires very much depend on what you understand about what you want. And if you understand little or nothing at all, then it is unlikely that your desire will be clearly embodied. So... Although…No, that's why I…No, we need you to go to the Ops Islands, beyond the Distant Horizon.”
I looked straight into Master Eleanor's eyes in surprise, waiting for him to continue.
“There are island states created from the remnants of the falling ship of the forefathers. Such have been drifting in the ocean for a long time, and many ended up here on the shore of the Sea of Whales. But not all of them. Not all. Yes... you have to find those of them that have avoided contact with the mainland until now. There is probably a lot of information there that will allow us to understand the science of the ancestors better. With the information we have, we cannot build a fleet that will defeat the lunar intervention.”
"I always thought you were like a father to me, Master Grummays. I thought you just... liked me, and you... supported me by…”
“Just don't,” the man grimaced. “I really am your father. Albeit formal. And the reasons for that are not so important. Now the fate of the world depends on whether we can defend it or become slaves of an offended god. Don't get offended yourself. You're not god yet. Resentment will swallow you whole, weights will settle on your feet. You're unlikely to recover. Better understand that you can help. Save people. This is a goal worthy of god. Believe me.”
"Thanks for the advice," I bowed.
“That's good. There's a ship waiting for you in Ilari Harbor. It is able to dive to a shallow depth. I hope this will save you from the invasion intelligence. And from prying eyes in the federation. Yes, my friend, yes," Master Eleanor replied to my questioning look, "not everyone in the Supreme Council supports my initiative to use you.”
Grummays passed his hand over his face, and it immediately turned out to be somehow tired and aged.
“Sha Zumm and this... what's his name... Baraman will go with you.”
“Please don't." I began.
“No. Don't argue. The madman, though annoying, is devoted to you like a dog. One day you'll thank the moons for him being there for you.”
“I…”
“You must understand that I can't send anyone else with you. Everyone else will decide to kill you in your sleep as soon as they realize who you are. The sailors on the coast really wanted you dead. They would have been hanged for it. But you know how it is with superstitions, especially those concerning worms.”
"I don't want to be looked after," I stated sadly, remembering the Cyborg's look.
“If it wasn't for Sha Zumm, we wouldn't be talking now, so you'd better thank him for his professionalism, “Master Eleanor chuckled, and looked at the crystals in my hand, “By the way, I absolutely don't mind if you fix yourself this Yoka, a girl from xeno-liquid. She shouldn't have a reason to kill you. I don't know if you'll be able to convince this soulless creature to help you, but more is better than less. In the sense…Well, you get it. People. More people. Better. Damn. Ahem.”
Grummays coughed, slapped me on the shoulder and headed for the exit of the room. I stood for a while, looking at the cloud of images from the life of May-e-oka. I especially remember the image of a huge launcher in front of an immense object bending light around itself. But I shook my head, erased the data and headed for the hall with columns, clutching the crystal in my hand.
Throwing it into the water, I watched with fascination as the girl's body was woven from black threads in front of me. She was wearing the same attire as during the ceremony, all black.
"God, why..." she moaned and opened her eyes.
"Tell me about the flights between the stars," I said quietly.
“I feel sick.”
“Are you ill?”
“No,” May-e-oka replied wearily, “I feel sick all the time when flying. That's all I know about it. I feel sick from artificial gravity, a kind of kinetosis.”
“I see. And you… How did you get here in the first place?”
"It looks like you've been watching my memories. Why are you asking?”
“I only looked at part of it.”
“I was tired of living. I wanted to die and never come back. Disappear.”
I felt terribly stupid. After all, she only wanted peace all the time, and I brought her back to life again.
“How old are you?”
The girl turned her head to me.
“At the time of copying to the memory bank, it was about five and a half thousand earthly years. So what?”
I stared at her in silence with bulging eyes.
“Didn't expect that you would resurrect an ancient old woman?” May-e-oka smiled bitterly, “Okay, pass. The real mistress of this memory, I hope, has been dead for a long time, as she wanted. And I, I'm just her phantom pain, recreated in this black shit," she snorted and stood up from the recess, in which there was now noticeably less xenofluid.
"What do you need help with?" the girl asked, rubbing her horns. And she looked just like a young, not an old woman at all.
“I, that is, Master Eleanor, that is, we, the federation, we all need... ahem," I hesitated, but then found the strength and continued, “to defeat the other worm, Rob. He’s going to…”
But I didn't have time to finish, because there was a loud bang, and the mountain shook. Rocks and dust rained down on us from the ceiling. May-e-oka grabbed my arm and pulled me sideways. A piece of rock stuck into the place where I was standing.
“Than-k...” I began, but again I did not have time to finish, because the vault above us cracked and turned red.
We rushed into a corridor and from there into another, but both passages were already covered with stones.
"Wait," I shouted, "I can get us out of here."
“Where to?” the girl shouted, trying to shout over the growing roar.
“What?”
It was impossible to concentrate because death was happening around me. People were dying so fast that my consciousness, torn into dozens of multidimensional worms, did not have time to grasp them all.
“Where are you taking us?” the cry of May-e-oka finally reached me.
After an incredible effort, I was able to focus on myself and immediately realized that the observation deck above us probably no longer exists. Means…
And we ended up in the foothills, in the lower supply camp, from where army delivered provisions to the mountain fortifications. There was panic all around. The heavenly fire fell on the peaks above us, and in the bright glow they shone like day.
I no longer felt so many deaths, but periodically I was thrown on one or another peak, and I saw soldiers dying under the rubble.
“Hey, what's wrong with you?” the girl shouted at me, slapping me on the cheeks, “we need to get out of here.”
With difficulty I realized that she was right. But I also realized that I can't leave without saving the others. Closing my eyes, I wished that everyone, no, I couldn't do it all, then…
“The Savior!” Baraman shouted and grabbed my legs.
I opened my eyes. Master Eleanor and Sha Zumm were standing in front of me.
"Well done... son," Grunmays managed to squeeze out of himself, "keep it up… This son of a bitch is smarter than we thought, and his weapons are scarier than I predicted. If it wasn't for you... devils. Now all hope is only on you. Hurry. To Ilari!”
ns 15.158.61.50da2
