Chapter Two: The Forge Deus
A powerful vibration had been running through the Chariot for the last hour, and Sorin worked the controls in an effort to keep the vessel stable. The Aether, what mortals called hyperspace, was always in motion, a stream of primal energy flowing in every direction at once; how smooth the journey through it went depended on the current he steered the Chariot into. This one was strong and swift, pulling Sorin down its course at high speeds. The faster currents expedited his journey, but the risks were twofold: at this speed, he needed to be certain of where to breach if he didn’t want to overshoot his target, and any sudden change in the current might destroy the Chariot entirely. Dying would be most unwelcome, especially now that he had a mission.
Sitting in a storage closet at the back of the Chariot was something that shouldn’t be there, or anywhere. It was a machine, insect-like in shape and made of a strange metal as black as starless space. It matched no technology that existed in the Syr galaxy, and it was only one piece of a greater whole. Although the galaxy was surrounded by the Firmament, a powerful Deus-built barrier that prevented entry from both normal space and the Aether, an entire vessel had somehow penetrated it. The intrusion had destroyed the ship and left only a derelict wreck, but its mere presence had already had a significant impact on mortal affairs. Would the war between the Alliance and the Empire have happened if Vrakk Shodus hadn’t found the vessel first? At least two pieces of intruder technology had been taken from the wreck: Sorin’s own prize, and a strange, casket-like object that was currently in the possession of the Rashani and thus out of his reach.
He guessed that the machine was some sort of remotely-operated maintenance drone, cut off from its controllers over a century ago, but its purpose was only a secondary concern. What interested Sorin was the material it was made from and how it worked. It seemed to be a sympathetic metal of some sort, like the Lucidite found on Utopia, but its properties seemed different, and his own knowledge on the subject was limited. Fortunately, he knew an expert. Unfortunately, they hadn’t spoken in centuries.
Deus could hold grudges for a long time. Sorin’s mother, Gelia, had been murdered a thousand years ago, but he still held a strong enmity towards his father for simply being an accomplice in her death. His kind had forgotten many things, but feuds seemed to run through their veins like ichor. But this particular disagreement had been born in the flames of grief and emotional strain, and he hoped that enough time had passed for both their heads to cool.
His navigation system warned him that he was nearing his destination, so he switched off the Aether drive and tipped back the steering yoke. One last, powerful tremor passed through the Chariot as it breached back into normal space, the bright energy stream replaced by a dark void outside the clear dome above his head. A wide-range scan of the sector revealed that he was sitting on the edge of an asteroid belt surrounding a star and two planets. Neither was inhabited, Sorin recalled, but the conditions on the second world were favourable for life.
He steered into the belt, keeping an eye on the navigation system. One asteroid out of thousands—as good a home as any for a reclusive Deus, but it made visiting difficult. All space-rocks looked the same to him, but the Chariot’s computers would detect signs of any occupants within the belt. An array of holographic shapes hung in the air before him, his own ship a golden blip moving among them. After an hour’s search, one of those spheres began to glow, and he adjusted his course to intercept it.
To his own eyes, the asteroid was unremarkable; a massive piece of rock about the size of a mortal city block, pockmarked from collisions with its neighbours and lacking any recognizable shape. It was the perfect hiding spot, and a marvellous work of craftsmanship.
He flew a quick loop around the asteroid, wondering how to proceed. Did she know he was here? She had set up sensors to detect Aether breaches, but that didn’t mean she would still be checking them after all these years. It had been a long time since Deus had regularly visited each another. He sighed, staring apprehensively at the holographic display as he considered what sort of message he should send. Video would be polite and proper, but he didn’t have the courage to show his face just yet.
He set up the console to record and leaned forward in his seat. “Ulenne, this is Sorin. I… have something for you to look at.”
He hit send, then leaned back and closed his eyes. There were a hundred things he could have said, but he’d chosen the safe option. He could have poured out his soul into that message for hours, but instead he’d given a distant, impersonal and, most of all, brief communication. He told himself that anything important he had to say to Ulenne he could say in person, but the truth was that this reunion had been worrying at his nerves for the last week, and he was a little frightened now that it was time.
Ulenne’s reply came in the form of a simple, wordless signal, telling the Chariot’s navigation system where the entrance into her home was. Sorin didn’t need it; he might not have known where to find Ulenne’s dwelling, but he remembered how to get in. He brought the Chariot around to an inconspicuous nub on one side of the asteroid that split open to allow him in, and set down on a flat metal surface; a wide hangar that was mostly empty.
He climbed out of the Chariot and found himself standing beneath a swarm of constellations. An impressive feat; the walls of the structure were a clever illusion, displaying the rocky mass of an asteroid to the galaxy while allowing a clear view of the outside. Ulenne had always liked a workshop with a view.
He set his sabatons on the floor and stepped away from the Chariot. He’d dressed in his most impressive outfit: a suit of golden armour that Ulenne had forged for him long ago, its helmet tipped with curving prongs like stylized rays of a sun, complemented by the crimson blade sheathed at his waist. He hoped she would appreciate the care he’d put into keeping it in good condition for so long.
There were two other ships besides his own. Ulenne’s own Chariot, coloured a more subtle copper next to Sorin’s gold, was parked nearby. He was pleased to see it free of dust, unlike the one his reclusive brother Lutus kept, because it meant that Ulenne was still using it and hadn’t fallen into the same habits of solitude that many Deus—Sorin included—had developed.
The other ship hid beneath a black tarp in the far corner of the hangar. A single red, curved wing protruded from beneath the covering, and Sorin approached in a trance of old memories. Was it the same ship? He hoped not, but when he lifted the corner of the tarp to have a look, he recognized the crimson hull immediately. Ulenne had upgraded the damned thing since he’d last seen it; those propulsion cylinders on the side were new, and the whole thing had a freshly polished sheen to it.
“What do you think?” a voice asked behind him.
Sorin dropped the tarp and turned, slowly, bracing himself. Ulenne stood behind him, two bronze-coloured, well-muscled arms folded under her chest. Another arm branched off from either shoulder, their hands idly fiddling with a broken tool. Her hair was a green-tinted black and tied back in a bun, which suggested she’d been working. This was corroborated by her attire; a simple pair of shorts and a shirt that exposed the sculpt of her limbs and midriff, all covered in a sheen of sweat. Her large, dark purple eyes were narrowed slightly.
“Ulenne, hello.” He hadn’t a clue how to greet her after so long. “It looks, um, different. You’re still working on it?”
“Not right now,” Ulenne replied, briefly holding the tool in her hands up to her face. “I take a look at her from time to time, give her a scrubbing, replace or upgrade parts, maybe give her a go every few decades, then set her aside when I hit another stumbling block. Is there a battle going on that I’m not aware of?”
Sorin paused, uncomprehending, then noticed the way her eyes slid up and down his armour. “Oh, no. Not yet, at least.”
Ulenne allowed herself a small smirk. “How very ominous. Anyway, I haven’t been pursuing ship-making as passionately as I used to. What I’ve been trying to do is possible, I’m sure, but even Deus science has its limits. Give it another couple of millennia.”
Her tone was calm and somewhat friendly, but the look in her eyes was just as defiant as it had been last time, and it rankled Sorin. He kept a hold on his frustration; they’d had this talk before. “I think it will be much longer than that, but I’m not here to debate that.”
“Good,” Ulenne said. “That’s probably for the best.”
Sorin nodded. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
Ulenne’s smirk gave way to a pout. “I expected you to come back sooner.”
He gave a shrug to mask his guilt. “I’m here now.”
“I was thinking the day after you left, not centuries later.”
“I thought we both needed time to ourselves.” He had no good explanation for his self-imposed exile after their last meeting, but neither did she, or Fulmus, or any of the others. In the wake of Gelia’s death, his father Zantir’s imprisonment, and Lutus’ fall from grace, the bonds that had held the Deus together had just seemed to dissolve. The sense of hope and camaraderie that had held them together for the millions of years following the Tyrant War had died with their leader, and the pantheon had gone their separate, aimless ways. He and Ulenne, a couple for nearly seven millennia by that point, had tried to remain together, but his commitment to Lutus and his commands had led to them seeing each other less and less, until their final meeting had driven them apart for good. He’d planned to return, except that other, less painful tasks had always gotten in the way.
Ulenne strode over to Sorin’s Chariot, eyeing a spot on the side where the hull was warped and discoloured. “What did this?”
“I flew into the path of a torpedo.” Sorin was still a little embarrassed at how rashly he’d acted to protect Fulmus’ daughter, though he didn’t regret it.
Ulenne gave him a questioning look, then shrugged. “So you’ve been having fun without me. Well, I’ve been busy too.”
Sorin smiled, fond memories of better days filling his head. “Maybe we should catch up.”
Ulenne refolded her arms. “Maybe. You said you had something for me? An apology gift?”
“You could think of it that way.” He knew her well enough to know how she’d take his strange discovery. “It’s in the Chariot. There’s quite a story about how I found it, but I can’t be sure what it is. I don’t think it’s from our galaxy.”
Ulenne’s stern expression faltered, her eyes widening with interest. “Well, don’t keep me waiting—bring it out!”
Sorin climbed back into the Chariot and hauled the machine out. He’d found it in zero gravity, so he stumbled a little trying to lift it now that there was weight. The limbs were tucked up against the body, which made it convenient to carry, at least. When he placed it on the floor with a grunt, Ulenne came running and dropped onto her knees next to it. She ran a finger over its carapace, no longer hiding her awe.
“This is—what is this?” She nearly flattened herself against the floor to get a look at the machine’s underside. “This metal isn’t like anything I’ve seen before.” She touched her forehead, grasping for something that wasn’t there. “Left my goggles in the workshop. Well, that’s where the rest of my tools are too. Come on, pick it up and follow me. Tell me everything on the way.”
Sorin obeyed wordlessly, smiling to himself. Whatever tension there still was between them, she hadn’t changed so much that he didn’t know how to excite her anymore.
* * *
He set the machine down on the worktable that Ulenne directed him to, then took a look around the workshop while she went to get her tools. It was a massive room, possibly bigger than the hangar, but Ulenne had still managed to clutter it up. Countless half-finished projects had been shoved carelessly onto towering shelves, a catalogue of mysterious devices that probably would’ve served their purpose adequately, but lacked the innovative flair that Ulenne always pursued with her creations. Larger pieces, mostly ship frames and dissected engines, hung from wires attached to the transparent ceiling, obscuring but not eliminating the view outside.
Ulenne returned, a toolkit under one arm and a pair of goggles wrapped around her forehead. She hardly seemed to notice Sorin as she pushed past and set the kit on the table. When she lowered the goggles over her eyes, the lenses began to rotate, focusing in as they ran an analysis of the machine. Her lips were curved in a giddy smile, and Sorin pretended not to hear her whispering to herself.
“As I thought—this metal doesn’t match any known alloy in the Syr galaxy,” she said aloud, presumably for Sorin to hear. “No flaws, no seams—this thing is a work of art. Are you sure this was caught in an Aether accident?”
Sorin cleared his throat; he always felt a little anxious when she grilled him like this. “Yes. The vessel I found it in had been pulled apart like many ships during a bad breaching. I guess the hull must have shielded this from the brunt of the damage.”
Ulenne turned her head towards him, the lenses twisting back and forth. “An entire ship—I still can’t process that. An entire ship of this? I need to see it. You should have brought it with you.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “It was nearly as big as this asteroid. What could I have done, tethered it to the Chariot and hauled it all the way here? Start small—I’ll give you the coordinates so you can see it for yourself, but that might take years to investigate.”
Ulenne nodded. “Right, right. Even a cursory look at this thing here tells me I might need a few months to unlock its secrets.” She flipped the machine onto its back with embarrassing ease and began to unfold its jointed limbs. “It almost looks like an insect, or maybe a crustacean. Interesting design choice. What purpose do you think it served?”
“A maintenance drone, maybe. You know these things better than I.”
“Well, I haven’t a clue in this case.” Ulenne tapped a finger against her lip as she ogled the machine’s underside. “There’s no sign of any damage that would’ve caused it to cease operation. Maybe it’s out of fuel. I’m going to need to run some tests, open it up.”
“I won’t keep you,” said Sorin, reluctantly. “I’ve no pressing business at the moment, so I won’t be far. Contact me when you find something—Lutus worries there might be more intruders.”
“All Lutus does is worry,” Ulenne grumbled, reaching into her toolbox.
Sorin lingered a little longer, disappointed. He’d known talking to Ulenne again would be uncomfortable, but this seemed like so much less than he’d hoped for. All through the journey here, he’d imagined countless ways their reunion might play out: tearful embraces and apologies, furious shouting and insults, strong emotions shared between two Deus who’d once cared for each other. Yet all there was now was a long, awkward silence and the nagging feeling that he should say something, but no clear idea as to what. He turned to go.
“Goodbye Sorin,” Ulenne called over her shoulder. “Give your brother my regards.”
“I will, if I see him,” Sorin answered. “I’ve also been in contact with Fulmus lately. That one is… quite the tale.”
“Tell me about it sometime,” Ulenne said mildly. “Are you thinking about piecing the pantheon back together?”
Sorin was stunned. “No, that wasn’t my intention. I don’t know if that’s even possible anymore. No one trusts Lutus.”
“Forget Lutus,” Ulenne said, not taking her eyes from her tinkering. “You could do it. The others would follow you, I think. I would.”
An old, familiar warmth bubbled up inside him, but it was tempered by an uneasy cooling in his middle. “I’ll think about it. Who knows what we may have to do if there are more intrusions?”
© 2024 Simon A. G. Spencer
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