The Strangers We Know -- Part Five

There were few things in all of Algo as old as the space station Zelan, a city-sized automation which followed a lazy orbit opposite that of the garden known as Motavia. Never had Zelan been blessed for any extended period of time with the presence of carbon-based lifeforms. No, the station's only long-term inhabitants were the truly ancient androids known commonly as Demi and Wren, although neither of those words were the AIs' true names.

The individual unit designation of the Wren-type was Fuoren, although he had never been addressed as such. He had been created two thousand nine hundred ninety-eight years previously as the keeper of Zelan, which was forced to take control of Algo's vast climate-control systems after Mother Brain was demolished and the Daughter project failed. The first nine hundred ninety-eight years he had spent alone on Zelan, completely cut-off from the rest of Algo except for his rare communications with the few remaining AIs on Motavia. Just two years shy of his first millennial birthday, Fuoren had joined the legendary Chaz Ashley, Rika Ashley, the first Numan, Lutz Five, and others on an epic quest to destroy the Profound Darkness. And since the day the last Protectors ended the terror of Dark Force for good, Fuoren and Demi had worked feverishly, first to normalize the climate systems of Algo, and then to help the Algoians themselves rebuild their wickedly decayed civilization. In both of these tasks, the androids had succeeded. And over those nearly three millennia, Fuoren had seen much, and had come to know even more. Although, since he was not empathics-capable, Fuoren could not feel emotion, he had nonetheless come to possess a sort of accidental pride, an exaggerated belief in the power of his own knowledge. He had come to believe long before that there were few things he had not seen, and no problem that he could not solve.

This comforting belief was shattered suddenly, however, when an ominous ship, the color of the Motavian sky at midnight and as large as a small moon, appeared suddenly at the outermost edge of the Algo System.

Demi had noticed it first.

"Master Wren, will you look at this?" she asked, the concern obvious in her unquestionably Palman voice.

"What is it, Demi?" Fuoren had asked.

"I'm not sure. It appears to be a spaceship, but of what nature, I cannot discern. Look at these readings. It's absolutely massive, and appears to be completely derelict."

"Hmmm, you are right. There are no signs of power whatsoever."

"Perhaps I should take Landale VII and investigate."

The little android began to move, but Fuoren placed a gigantic hand on her small shoulder, and Demi stopped.

"No, do not leave, at least not yet. I want to run further scans before possibly endangering your existence."

Demi smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Master. Honestly, I was not looking forward to the prospect of getting anywhere near that thing. Who knows what intentions it might have?"

"No one knows, of course," Fuoren responded with a shrug. Realizing that Demi's question was not meant to be answered, he added, "Sometimes I do not understand the nature of rhetorics, Demi. Please forgive me."

Demi sighed and said, "Oh, Master. I always do!"

"I will continue this investigation now," Wren said, seating himself at the terminal Demi had occupied a moment before. "Yes, the ship is very large indeed. However, it is considerably smaller than Palman Sunrise or its sister ships. This puzzles me, as I had figured that this ship would turn out to be a previously-undiscovered remainder of the Palman escapee armada."

"But it isn't?" Demi asked. "Could it be only a fragment of one of the ships? A lone biodome, perhaps...?"

Fuoren shook his head. "No, it is whole, except for a few large openings in the ship's outer hull. They would appear to be the result of catastrophic explosions. Hmmm. Curiouser. The ship matches no known make or model dating back as far as AW 100, and no deep-space vessels had been constructed up until that time." Fuoren turned to Demi. "Perhaps we should investigate, after all."

Demi sighed again and headed "south," towards the docking bay. "How did I know? I will ready Landale VII, Master. We may leave momentarily."

"Who are you contacting now, Dr. Mallos?" Son asked.

"Wren," was the curt reply.

"Ah, you mean the Wren on Zelan which sent Mium here."

"Right. Mium mentioned being reactivated in the past. Maybe Wren can tell me something." Dahl's finger hovered just above the button which would put through a connection to Zelan. She didn't want to speak with Wren again. In fact, she had sworn that she never would. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Very desperate.

There was a beep, and then a slightly hollow male voice said, "You have contacted Zelan station. Android Siren 642 speaking. May I help you?"

"Yes," Dahl said quickly as she struggled to keep her thoughts from wandering to Azur or Erol, who had not answered her call. "This is Doctor Dahlia Mallos, Director of Palm II. I need to speak with Wren, the Wren, Master Wren, at once." The android to which Dahl spoke was not Wren, not her Wren. She knew this. Yet the voice was so familiar that it made her heart lurch. How will she react when she speaks to the real thing? She dreaded the answer, but it would come soon enough. Things were beginning to happen all too fast. Dahl could feel her head -- and her heart -- spinning.

"I am contacting Master Wren now," Siren 642 replied. "I am now putting you through."

"Hello?" the all-too familiar voice asked. "This is Wren, Director of Zelan station. Please make this quick, as I was just about to depart."

"Hello, Wren," Dahlia said nervously. "This is Dahl, uh, Dr. Dahlia Mallos, Director of Palm II."

"Greetings, Dahlia," Wren said. His voice was not impersonal, but it was never quite warm, either. "How may I help you?"

You used to know, Dahl thought. But then she said, "I need to get some information -- fast -- about Mium. Wren, can you hook yourself up to the Algo Control network? I'll have Son transmit the info directly."

"Certainly," Fuoren replied. "I'm ready."

"Now," Dahl said to Son.

Although Dahl could not see Wren's face, she knew that at that moment it was growing very dark and full of concern. Demi was probably near by, as well. If so, she was probably biting her nails -- or at least the places where her nails would be -- as she watched Wren's usually blank face fall into a frown.

"I have processed the data," Fuoren said after thirty-two seconds. "This is indeed most dire information."

"What is it, Master?" Demi asked as she turned from the elevator to the docks and came to stand again beside her elder. Wren pointed to a particular console nearby which was adapted especially for Demi so that she, too, could connect directly to the Algo Control network. She connected, and soon, her eyes grew wide and began to glisten, although Demi could not cry.

"I am uncertain as to what to say, Dahlia," Wren answered. "Mium is obviously not trustworthy. She must be deactivated at once."

"Wren, I...I need you," Dahl said.

At the sound of this, Demi's eyes narrowed and she stared expectantly at Wren.

"Please, Wren," Dahl continued. "Come here and take care of Mium yourself. Our security here is next to nonexistent. We never needed it. I don't know if we can handle Mium by ourselves. Wren, please." The last word was but a whisper, and a shaken one at that.

Wren looked questioningly at Demi.

"I can investigate the phenomena we detected alone," the tiny android answered quickly, before the question could even be asked. "You must go to Palm II now. Mium might be very dangerous."

Wren nodded. "I will teleport immediately, Dahlia," Wren said.

"Oh, thank you, Wren!" Dahl said. "I'll be in my sister's quarters. You know where they are?"

"I presume you are still in the Labs. If so, I will know where to find you."

"Oh, thank you, Wren," Dahl repeated. "Please, come quickly!"

Wren disconnected from the network. "I will go now." He squeezed Demi's shoulder as he stood, a gesture Fuoren reserved for only the most dire of times. "Be careful, Demi," he said. "I do require your presence."

Demi smiled as she began, again, to make her way towards the docking bay where the craft known as Landale VII was kept. "If that means you need me, Master Wren," she said, "then I am most glad to hear it. And you be careful, too!" she called as the elevator doors sealed themselves in front of her and locked into place.

Dahl was not adept to watching over her shoulder, so the short trip to her sister's quarters was a nerve-racking one, even with Erol close behind her. It was made all the worse by the fact that, in order to preserve the day-night cycle which was so conducive to people living and working more comfortably, the hallways and passages of the Labs were darkened considerably during the night, giving Mium and beasts of pure imagination ample places to hide in and pounce from. The fiberemel and sonic gun Dahl carried gave her little comfort as she made her way upwards to the highest of the subterranean levels, where the living quarters of the Labs' occupants were located. She looked over her shoulder and saw Erol, his eyes wide, a small lasershot in his hand. Dahl sighed. What a pathetic sight they were.

They tiptoed out of the chute and slowly approached Azur's door. Once there, Dahl input into the door's keypad lock the emergency override code for the shutter door so that she could enter without knocking. Azur, who had nearly fallen asleep on the other side, snapped awake as her friends entered, her own sonic gun raised. She lowered it once she saw that the "intruders" were none other than Dahl, her dear sister, and friend Erol.

"You finally got here," the blue-haired Numan whispered. "I was beginning to worry!"

"Sorry for the delay," replied her green-haired sibling. "I had to contact Wren."

"And then she had to come get me," Erol muttered to himself.

Azur's eyebrow raised. "The Wren?"

"Yes, the Wren," Dahl snapped. "Who else? He's the one who sent her here, after all. If anyone can deal with her, it's him!"

"You're right," Azur whispered.

"So what now?" Erol asked. "Do we just sit here and wait for Wren?"

Dahl froze in the darkness. "I...don't know. I suppose so. But I can't help but worry about him." There was a silence. "But he's a tough guy!" Dahl added quickly. "He can handle himself."

"Yeah..." Azur muttered, with a great deal less certainty. "I'm sure he can..."

"Daughter, do you read me?" Demi asked as Landale VII crossed the remaining tenth of a parsec between Zelan and the anonymous object which appeared to be a ship.

"Yes," the soothing voice of Daughter, who controlled Zelan and Kuran in addition to Mota, Dezo, and Rykros replied. "You are less than two minutes away from the phenomena."

"Thanks for your support in this, Daughter," the little android said affectionately. "Honestly, I'm kind of nervous about doing this alone. Master is always with me!"

"Yes, for a non-empath, Wren is a very good friend, to both of us," Daughter replied.

"In verity!" responded Demi. "But it's good to have you along too, Daughter, Master Wren or no."

"Thank you, Demi," Daughter said. "I only hope I can be of help."

"And I only hope that we're able to retain this connection once I board the craft...assuming I do. We don't rig this kind of system too often, and Master Wren is so much better with the communications hardware than I am."

"Don't sell yourself short, dear one," Daughter said. "I'm certain you'll be just fine."

"Oh, wow, look at that!" Demi exclaimed as the mystery ship came into view. "Daughter, are you getting this?"

A camera above the pilot's window of Landale VII swiveled, its lenses focusing and refocusing.

"I am now," Daughter answered. "This is...incredible. It's approximately as large as one of Palman Sunrise's biodomes, or, say, the greater Aideoian metropolitan area."

Demi whistled. "It's the color of...midnight. How menacing! Daughter, do you find yourself getting a little excited?"

Daughter chuckled, something her "brother" had not yet quite learned to do. "I suppose I am, Demi. I find that being anxious often gives one a sense of excitement."

"It's what people call 'a rush.' I love it!"

"We're here," Daughter said simply as Landale VII came to a full stop just a few hundred meters from the starboard end of the ship.

"I need to dock somehow," Demi muttered.

Daughter beeped. "Impossible. You'll have to anchor Landale VII to the hull of this craft and jet your way inside."

Demi grumbled. "Ugh, I hate these dumb jet packs!" Nonetheless, she reached behind her seat and removed one of the compact-like items and installed it in a small niche in her back. "There. I'm ready."

"All right. Anchoring..."

Demi felt the ship lurch slightly as Landale VII's tentacle-like anchor extended and found its mark.

"...complete. You may disembark now, Demi. I will try to remain in contact with you."

"Okay," Demi said with a sigh as she steadied her nerves. "Here I go!"

With that, the cockpit window slid backwards into the laconian skin of the ship, leaving the tiny android exposed to open space. She blasted out of the scout craft quickly, the cockpit resealing behind her, and drifted into a gaping hole in the giant ship's side. Then the darkness enveloped her, and she was lost from view.

For a moment, all was darkness, and then a scene slowly coalesced before Wren's eyes. He was on one of the Lab's lowest levels, at presumably the same spot where Mium had materialized almost a full day before. Fuoren hefted his massive pulse vulcan and stepped out of the teleport module into the vast terminal-filled chamber, his android senses on hyper-alert.

Had he not known better, he would have thought nothing was amiss. But the knowledge that an ancient and potentially very deadly android was running loose on the premises was too horrible to ignore.

Fortunately, Fuoren had retained a wrist communicator similar to the ones all on Palm II used since his last visit.

"Dahlia," he whispered into it. "Do you read me?"

"I'm here, Wren," Dahl whispered back. "Where are you?"

"I am at the teleporter," was the answer. "Have Son see if he can locate Mium."

Everything was silent for a moment, then Dahl spoke again into her wrist.

"Nothing. He can't locate her anywhere."

"Unusual," Fuoren muttered. "Mium must have dampened Son's senses in her immediate location."

"She can do that?" Dahl said with a gasp.

"It is really quite simple," Fuoren answered as he slowly crept from the teleporter. "However, one needs to be at a certain spot. The trouble is finding that spot."

"Great," Dahl muttered, making a mental note to herself to check up on this with Son in the morning, assuming morning came to Palm II. "I'm sorry I can't help you, Wren."

"It is all right. Contact me if you need me. Over and out."

Despite his great size, the android was able to work his way through the maze of computers, crates, and laboratory stations quite nimbly. Fuoren suddenly remembered, as he approached a chute leading downward, that the only place systems were located with the power needed to dampen Son's senses was in Lab 32, a small sub-division of the Biotechnics Department located five levels below Fuoren's present location. "Gotcha'," the android whispered, using one of the Palman expressions he had picked up from Demi. He then gingerly stepped onto the chute, and was whisked downward.

The hallways of the apparitional ship were black and empty, their contents long ago sucked away by the vacuum of space. Demi couldn't help but shiver as she hovered along, slow and cautious, some two meters above the ruined floor of the passageway. The only light to be seen came from the stars visible through the many gaping wounds in the side of the craft (among which Algo was a star just slightly brighter than the rest), and Demi's own Flare Unit, set on its lowest setting so as to produce a dull glow before the little android, but little else.

"Demi, do you read me?" Daughter's echoing voice within Demi's own head startled the android.

"Oh, Daughter! It's you! I'm glad to see...hear, actually...that the system we rigged works!"

"Yes, I am relieved as well," Daughter replied. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No," Demi said with a shake of her head. "The place seems deserted. There is zero power, and--"

"Demi!" Daughter cried. "Are you there?"

"Oh, what? Yes, Daughter, I'm here," came the calm reply. "I just found something, that's all."

"What is it?"

Demi lessened the output of the jet pack and sank slowly until her feet were touching the floor. "It's an airlock, intact, and, apparently, still functioning."

"Are you going in?" Daughter asked.

"Yes, I have to," Demi said with a determined nod. "I can't let Master Wren down. He wants to know what this ship is all about, and I am going to find out for him."

"Oh, Demi, please be careful," Daughter said. "If the airlock is still functioning, then there is a possibility that whatever is on the other side of it is...functioning as well."

"I know," Demi said as she reached for the lock. "We'll find out soon enough..." And with that, her hand made contact with the airlock, and it slid open.

Demi emerged in the empty lock chamber. As the door behind her closed, the chamber filled with oxygen and, to Demi's surprise, the gravity normalized.

"Unusual," Daughter said. "Only this chamber and, perhaps, whatever is beyond, must be spinning while the rest of the craft lies still."

"Either that," Demi whispered, "or, going by what I saw of the outside of the craft, I'd say dampening fields of incredible magnitude are at work here. Anyway, I'm going in. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

"Affirmative," Daughter said reassuringly.

Demi touched the next doorway, and it, too, opened.

She found herself in a pitch black room, which, like the airlock, had oxygen and gravity. Demi heard a scurrying noise somewhere near by, and she silently engaged her photoneraser and Phonomezer Unit as she stood there in the darkness. At last she could take the suspense no longer, so she reengaged her Flare. A woman was crouching before her.

"Mium!" Demi yelped, nearly dropping her photoneraser. "How in Algo did--"

"I'm not your android, you stupid Algoian!" Mium's look-alike hissed.

"Then...who are you...?" Demi asked fearfully.

Just once, Rika Ashley, the great Protector of two thousand years previous, had let Demi hold the hilt of Elsydeon, the handle of The Heroine's legendary sword. Being an android, Demi had not expected anything to happen. Yet, much to her surprise, her mind was filled with memories, the memories of generations of Protectors.

Although all of the memories had gripped her, those of one Protector, a Collapse Century man by the name of Rolf Landale, were especially vivid. One memory had been of a crimson-haired woman, bathed in fire and clothed in a black bodysuit upon which were embossed images of the three inhabited worlds of Algo during pre-Collapse times -- Palm, Mota, and Dezo. This, after the death of a purple-haired girl, had been the most striking memory of all. The memory had never left Demi.

And this same woman was now standing before her.

"Mother Brain..." Demi whispered.

"My, my, my," cackled the woman. "A lone Demi-type. You alone planned to stop me? Ha, ha! Whatever were you thinking?" The Mieu-type known as Mother Brain took a step closer.

"Daughter, are you there?" Demi asked pleadingly, her back against the airlock door. "Daughter? Daughter! Do you read me? Do you read me...?"