part0123

“This world is ancient. A wide range of organisms developed and thrived and eventually dwindled before the People came to be. Animals like you— your metabolic requirements would not have been efficient enough in the beginning. The People had advantages over almost all the others. Their casings were optimal, their metabolic needs few, except in times of swarm. And the People had tools and language and mathematics. They evolved unopposed for some time. Until the Takesh.”

“Takesh?” asked Rebecca, “Were they part of the People too? Another tribe?”

“No,” said Issk’ath, “They were not of the People. Takesh were akin to your birds. Closer to reptiles than your Ornithurae, though. They were large, fierce. The People were their prey. The Takesh lacked the level of intelligence of the People, however. For a millennium they did not use tools and their language was auditory only— much like yours. Yet they were cunning and cooperated with one another. For centuries they hunted the People. My makers moved underground, in great nests, to avoid the Takesh. You saw part of a nest.

For a long while, the People forgot the sky. Perhaps that is why they were never travelers like you. Their attention turned inward, creating more and more complex tools, creating vast cities beneath the stone as their technology improved. But above them, the Takesh evolved too. They began developing their own tools and mechanisms. Rudimentary, but devastating. All of their technology was bent upon capturing the People for food. In those days, there was only one great nest. Far from this place. There were many smaller colonies, but most of the People lived in the great nest. It drank from a great river that flowed beside it. The Takesh knew this and blocked the river, turning it away from the nest with great stones and earthworks and tangled thorn-trees.

For many weeks, the People assumed there was a drought above ground. They waited while the hidden pools in the nest’s great chambers slowly dwindled and became thick with silt. At last, they knew they must go above and find out what had happened to the river or else move the nest. So the Queen first sent a few scouts. They returned several days later with stories of the river’s altered course and what had caused it. But the Takesh had hidden, made the scouts believe they were long gone. The Queen believed this trick and sent many warriors, many scholars and diggers. The best of the People. They were meant to make a hole in the dam, to return the river to its bed and save the nest. But the Takesh were waiting. So many that their wings turned light to dark and all the sky shook with their terrible war cries. At first, they were content to swoop in and take the People. In their beaks, in their talons. But the Takesh were many and the People who had been sent to the river were not enough to satisfy their hunger. They were impatient and enraged when the last of the People had been consumed.

Those Takesh that had not yet eaten tore into the dam, scattering the stones, breaking the earthworks with their great clawed feet. And the nest flooded. The People were caught unaware and were washed away, drowning even in the deepest chambers. The Takesh feasted upon their floating corpses. The few that were left fled. In the confusion and panic, many of the People in the smaller colonies scattered, spreading across the world, rebuilding. By the time of the great swarm, there were six great nests, each larger than the first one had been.

But that was many, many mating seasons later. The loss of the first nest was disastrous. People, art, technology, knowledge, all washed away. And those remaining knew they must find a way to prevent it from happening again. The People went to war with the Takesh. At first, it was covert, quick and quiet to keep the losses minimal. Small strike teams would take out one or two Takesh at a blow. But it was slow, and the Takesh easily replaced their losses. After a time, the People developed large machines and weapons that could strike at larger groups. But they were not dependable and led to massive losses. Biological weapons were considered and developed, but the Takesh and the People were more linked than anyone realized and they were quickly abandoned. Until, at last, the People made me and all of my brethren.” Issk’ath stopped for a moment and pictures of row upon row of glittering golden machines filled the feed and Liu’s console.

“How many?” she gasped.

“Thousands. A vast army,” said Issk’ath.

“But where are they?” asked Al Jahi.

“Many hundreds terminated in the war with the Takesh. The guardians wiped out the Takesh, but it was not an easy mission. Even our casings were not immune to their weapons. But it saved the People. After the war, many of the guardians deactivated. Their purpose was fulfilled and they found peace in termination. Some were repurposed as laborers for new nests or, like myself, as repositories of gathered knowledge, much like this wire network Dorothy showed me. The People stopped manufacturing the guardians shortly after I was produced. They turned their thoughts to other machines. Other technologies. Many mating seasons passed until there were only a handful of us left. Just two others remained in my nest. The People thrived. Too well, in fact. Then came the swarming.”

Again, images streamed through the feed. Sounds of unceasing chirps and whirs, thousands of the insects crammed into one of the caverns, then flying over the ground, sunlight glittering off smooth exoskeletons. The fields below were stripped clean, no vegetation, no animals. Just dust, thick and dark and roiling in the breeze of a million wings.

“The swarming was like an illness. Lust and greed and madness. Made worse by touch, and there were so many of the People, it spread like flame in a dry field.”

“Like locusts,” murmured Spixworth, his eyes flickering as he followed the images.

“Locust. Schistocerca gregaria. Yes. Like locusts. It seems they were equally destructive. The planet was dying. It could not sustain the People’s numbers, especially in their devouring need. The last of my brethren met, one final time. We had been tasked with protecting the People. Protecting the colony. Even if it meant protecting them from themselves. We were not many, but we had learned much in the long span of our lives. We found a way to save them. We found a way to protect them. Their casings were inefficient. Unnecessary. They were susceptible to illness and death, they required too much energy. They swarmed. So we attempted to preserve what was most important. The People are here now.” Issk’ath tapped its chassis again. “With Dorothy.”

“But— how ? What did you do? You just asked and they— what? Plugged themselves in?” asked Spixworth.

“Some agreed. The old, the infirm. The larvae and the nymphs. Others had to be persuaded. Some had to be taken and did not understand. They understand now. That is why I am named Issk’ath. For the boy who burned the clutch.”

“All of them? All of the people?”

“Yes. It was the kindest way. We argued many processing cycles about it. Some advocated only for thinning the swarm, allowing space to quell the sickness. But the People might have retaliated. To keep their numbers at manageable levels would have been harsh and inefficient. Why tax the planet with supporting their casings when they could live wholly within us? And if some of them wandered off and died alone, without us, their data would be lost. Scattered. Irretrievable. It would be a loss, as the flood was. We had to gather them all. We had to transfer them all at one time.”

“So you— you killed all of your people?” asked Al Jahi, rubbing her temple.

“Termination of the casing was irrelevant. Their minds, their consciousness was simply moved into a new casing. Mine.”

“And the others? Those like you, where are they?” asked Rebecca.

“I am all that remains.”

Rebecca was uncertain why Issk’ath’s statement left a cold chill in her gut. It ought to have been good news. There were no sentient creatures left, no real competition for resources, no one who would protest their colonization. “And what do you intend to do with us ?” she asked.

Issk’ath was silent for a long moment. Rebecca thought that was probably a bad sign. And then orange flame and a loud boom erupted behind it. Issk’ath stumbled a step or two and then the camera flashed white and died. Al Jahi swiveled to her console tapping frantically. “It’s a fire— the exterior cameras—”

“Get it closed, Liu!” shouted Captain Stratton. “I don’t care if you have to weld it, just get it closed.”

Rebecca ran into the equipment lock where Titov and Stratton were backed against the heavy door. The lock was filled with a rapid whine as Liu reconnected the heavy hinge mechanisms.

“What did you do?” cried Rebecca, “You said you only wanted to get the door open in case we had an emergency.”

“Yeah, well, plans change. See if Al Jahi can find out what’s happening on the exterior cameras. We need to know if we killed that thing. At least we know it’s the only one— good interrogating, Emery,” said Stratton. And then he was flying across the lock. He toppled over Rebecca as the heavy door came hurtling after him. Her head slammed onto the steel decking as they fell.