posted 03-Jul-2000
revised 04-Aug-2000
(2 A.D.*, Northern mountains of Aveh.)
*After Deus
Citan Uzuki removed his clockmaker's glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Scattered around him were the piled remnants of ancient books and scrolls; fragments of knowledge burnt, disjointed, and scattered across a hundred millenniums of human civilization. Written by hands long turned to dust, they whispered to him like fey children--offering scraps of silenced song, bits of knowledge too broken to ever be fixed.
Much like the world, he feared.
He sighed wearily, rubbing his neck in an effort to relieve the strain. It was times like this, late at night, that he missed Yui the most. Times when Midori was asleep, and Yui was there in the darkened house. . .moving quietly, cleaning up the messes of a day's work, soothing his aching neck with her gentle hands. . .
But Yui was dead--killed like many others when the flying city of Shevat took its final, deadly plunge to earth. Citan stood and walked restlessly out of the small house. The night air was biting and crisp, with the first hints of fall. Summer was short this high in the mountains; brief, golden, and transient in its beauty. Yui would never feel it again.
"Yui. . . " Citan murmured to the night wind, listening to the insects' chorus from the tall grass. "I wish you were here. You had a way of putting things into perspective without saying a word."
His smile was held more than a small amount of self-mockery. Of all the roles he had played in this long, twisted game of humanity and Deus, with the Contact in the middle--it was rather ironic that his final role was of an old, eccentric "Doc" that preferred books to people, and talked in the night to his dead wife. He could almost see the others shaking their heads sadly at his folly.
"I shouldn't be so harsh, Yui. Maybe they would understand--after all, none of us came through this unscarred. Especially Fei. I think he would understand the need to talk to those dead and gone. After all, he has to carry their ghosts with him every day of his life. At least I don't have to carry yours. . .just your memory."
The stars twinkled in their slow dance across the heavens as Citan's mind wandered back into the task that had consumed his life of late. Searching for the answers to impossible problems--it seemed that everyone believed he could do it. After all, he was the "Doc"--the ex-Solarian who knew everything. . .right?
He paced to the edge of the cliff, walking with considerate care through his daughter's small, carefully planted garden. The soft, well-worn fabric of his knee-length green tunic brushed gently against the vibrant, leafy young vegetable plants.
"It may be arrogant of me, but right now, I wish I *did* know it all. I wish I could come up with miracles for them. We've all been through so much. . .don't we deserve some peace? Some time to heal? Not just Fei and Elly, Bart, and the others. . .but everyone on this little planet. In the Emperor's name, Yui--isn't four millenia of suffering enough?" He picked up a small pebble and rolled it consideringly between his fingers. "Isn't it time we had peace?"
The night breeze gave him no answers as it ruffled through the growing young sprigs at his feet. Like anything could. Citan could only dimly remember the jubilation he had felt, a scant year ago. After all, they had managed to do the impossible--they had defeated Deus, the very creator and would-be destroyer of humanity. Fei had even gone one step further in beating the odds--he'd fought and reclaimed Elly from the heart of Deus itself, and returned both of them to the planet that was now theirs to inherit. A planet now freed of its false 'God' and the servants it had created.
Citan tossed the pebble over the sheer edge of the cliff, and watched dispassionately as it bounced away into the darkness. "I should have seen it coming, Yui. Of all people, I know what happens when people have the things they believe in ripped from them. I blinded myself to the truth because I wanted to believe that things would get better--that we'd be able to rise from the ashes stronger than we were." His lips twisted in a sad, ironic smile.
"I was wrong."
Infinitely wrong--on a scale not even he had expected. The devastation Deus had wreaked on the world before its demise--raining fiery death from the sky, altering the very wind and water currents of the air, breaking open the bones of planet to split apart continents and create new ones--he could now look back on those events with uncompromising clarity born of hindsight. No matter how horrible, those cataclysms were merely the first trumpet blast of Armaggedon. A year's time had brought forth its true reality.
The scattered survivors of Deus' attacks, the Wels mutations, and the world-shaking cataclysm that had surrounded all of those events a year ago now faced a more implacable foe--nothing less than the utter collapse of their civilization. As self-serving and tyrannical as the technologically advanced societies of Solaris and Shevat had been, they *had* provided one essential thing to the less-advanced surface dwellers, or "Lambs".
Control.
Now that carefully maintained balance of tensions of governments and religions, peoples and technology, was gone. The checks and balances were heavily wounded with the fall of Solaris, then given the final mortal blow by the fall of Shevat. The Etone religious order had fallen with their Solarian masters; and the only source of hope left was the Nisan Church.
But even the Nisan church could not put food they did not have into the mouths of the hungry. Even they could not produce medicines that no longer existed to treat the sick and dying. Plagues swept the depleted populations, feeding on the sudden lack of Solarian-produced medicines and immunizations.
And of course, with the famine, the disease, and the despair, came the final two Horseman.
War. And Death.
Death in the form of civil war. Entire peoples turned vicious with the need to survive and to strike back at ancient enemies. Or to satisfy a deeper vacuum left behind, and attack those who they believed had killed their God. Despair and madness were often found intermingled in the eyes of those desperate killers--people who fought their battles simply because it was the only thing left that made sense. Ether-driven technology was useless--Ether energy had vanished with the Wave Existence and Zohar Modifier that had supplied it. But even without Gears to fight in and generators for energy, even without *guns*--they still found ways to soak the earth with each others' blood.
There were only two islands of sanity left: Aveh and Nisan. The two countries had so intertwined their destinies that their shared peace was inevitable. Bart's newly-democratic nation was protected by his marauding mobile defense forces and the keen strategic intelligence of Sigurd, while Nisan. . .
Nisan was protected by Xenogears itself.
Fei, like himself, had retreated into the mountains to heal if he could. . . and to avoid posing a threat to others should he fail. Elly stayed with him whenever possible--but her duties to Nisan were unavoidable. The ancient heart and memory of its founder, Sophia, propelled her back to the ancient island city again and again. So the reborn spirit of the Holy Mother of Nisan, Elly, returned to the tiny nation in its times of need to give strength and comfort. Meanwhile, anything bent on destroying that small sanctuary soon found themselves facing the implacable White Knight guarding Nisan's heart. . .Fei Fong Wong--and Xenogears.
Citan smiled and lifted his face to the darkened mountains. "It took a long time, and a lot of hurt. . .but Fei has finally learned what he fights for. I believe you would be happy if you saw them together, Yui--they balance each other now. They have managed to hold onto their love even once they were forced to confront each other's weaknesses. So few people have the chance to do that."
His voice turned bitter and considering. "But is there any use in it? What kind of future did I give our daughter, Yui? Humanity is broken and dying. . .and I cannot avoid the thought that I had a hand in killing it. That when we destroyed Deus to save the world, we also destroyed humanity's heart."
He opened his eyes again, staring blankly at the summer night. "How will we survive as a people when we no longer have anything to believe in?"
There was a soft crunch of footsteps behind him, accompanied by a deliberate, quiet cough.
"Perhaps by reclaiming our lost history, Hyuga?"
Citan turned slowly as his oldest friend walked up to him. Sigurd's silver hair gleamed, even in the faint light of the crescent moon. His golden, eye-patched face was deep and inscrutable with shadows.
"I'm sorry to disturb you. But this couldn't wait."
Citan extended his hand and clasped Sigurd's with a strong swordsman's grip. "News that brings you all the way up here is always urgent--but I am glad to see you, my old friend." He turned back towards the small house. "Let's go inside to talk--the night is growing cold, and something tells me this is going to be a long conversation."
Sigurd's smile flashed white in the dimness as he turned to follow.
"What can I say? You've always been too clever for your own good, my friend."
Citan busied himself making tea, even as he contemplated all the possible reasons for Sigurd to visit. Another plague? A new petty dictator with delusions of grandeur? A natural disaster? The death of someone close. . . ? He gave up in disgust. The possibilities were simply too numerous. He turned, and set the gently steaming cups of tea on the table with a decisive *click*, then sat down himself.
He decided to take the direct approach. "Is everyone. . .okay?"
Sigurd looked mildly startled. "As far as I know. Communications are a bit shakier these days, but we've managed to keep in touch with just about everyone. Billy's orphanage is keeping him occupied, Elly's in Nisan. . . Even Bart's managed to stay out of trouble--for the last week, at least."
Citan closed his eyes briefly in relief. "Good. I was afraid. . ."
"I'm sorry, Hyuga." Sigurd looked chagrined. "I should have realized what this would look like. But no, everyone's fine--well, as good as can be expected, anyway. This is about something else entirely."
Citan arched an inquiring eyebrow as he sipped his tea. "Well, then, what is it?"
"Hm. Maybe I should start at the beginning. I don't know if you'd heard anything about it, as isolated as you've made yourself, but--Aveh's gears are functional again."
"How?" Citan's question was full of curiosity, but little surprise.
"Ol' Man Bal. Bart somehow managed to drag him out of his cave in order to try and solve our energy problems. Well, Ol' Man Bal solved it all right--it took six months of listening to him complain, but he came up with an alternative energy source. Namely, a fissile energy reactor. We've been using it to supply Aveh's energy needs and to power communications; we also incorporated it into the Gears and the Yggdrasil once he'd gotten the reactor core small enough. They're operating at about 30% of the power output of the old Ether drives--but they're working. And the Yggdrasil can accommodate a larger reactor core, so almost everything other than its heaviest armaments works ." Sigurd drummed his fingers on the tabletop restlessly. "It's been very reassuring to have the Yggdrasil back in action; even if Bart is still mourning the loss of his 'Bart Missile'."
"Probably just as well," Citan remarked dryly. "I for one was getting tired of being shot down by your young protégé."
A surprised chuckle escaped Sigurd before he managed to smother it behind an embarrassed cough. "Yes, well--unfortunately it seems Bart wasn't the only one missing his 'big guns'. Only a month or so later, some of the blueprints for the reactor technology were stolen. It wasn't long after that before Gears from other areas started appearing in their various conflicts. So far Aveh has been holding its own, thanks to the tactical advantage the desert terrain gives us. However, with the revived technological firepower out there that's building up, I'm not entirely certain how long the balance will remain in our favor. Especially since the Omnigears don't really benefit from this new energy source--the power output is just too low for the more advanced machines' energy needs."
The now-empty teacup clinked quietly against the tabletop. Citan leaned back and rubbed the lean planes of his face thoughtfully.
"It's unfortunate, to be sure, Sigurd. Especially considering all the potential other uses for such a badly-needed energy source." He slanted a probing stare over steepled fingertips. "However, contrary to popular rumor, I'm not omniscient. I appreciate you bringing me this information, but there's not much I can do about it--and you know that, old friend." The chair creaked as he leaned forward once again. "So tell me the part of the story you've omitted thus far--the part that would make you leave Aveh to young Bart's tender mercies and climb a mountain to visit me, hmm?"
His guest's single blue eye narrowed for a moment, then he leaned over and rummaged through the small travel-pack by his feet. Bringing out a small sheaf of printouts, he slid them casually over to his green-clad host.
Citan looked assessingly at the crisp printouts that nonetheless seemed ominous, scattered as they were atop his old and weatherbeaten kitchen table. He picked them up with a certain resignation, flipping through the files meditatively as he read. Sigurd watched the keenly perceptive eyes flicker each page, absorbing the data presented, and fancied he could almost see through them to his old friend's mind at work, evaluating and assessing.
Those eyes flicked up and pinned him where he sat. The maudlin, slightly absent-minded air of the 'Doc' had disappeared; Sigurd felt himself instinctively straightening as he met the gaze of the Hyuga he had once known--a trained Solarian elite, tactician and strategist without peer. He suppressed the urge to straighten his collar. Old military habits died hard.
"These are. . . power signatures? Coming from the ice fields?"
Sigurd nodded briefly. "Yes. We first picked them up as we were doing diagnostic tests on the Yggdrasil IV's long-range sensors during power-up. They're faint, but distinguishable. . .and I'm sure you haven't forgotten *those* coordinates."
"The Zohar Modifier." Citan's voice was considering.
"The signals are so faint, it's hard to get a distinctive pattern off of them. We can only guess as to why we've never sensed them before."
Citan drummed his fingers against the table top as he frowned at the documentation scattered before him. "Actually, the reason is rather logical--when you think about it. While the Zohar Modifier reactor was there, its power signature was so overpowering that it was impossible to sense anything else within a mile or so of it. And the one time I was there with the others, we really didn't have time to explore thoroughly. We were busy dealing with. . .other matters."
Matters like Fei. And Id. The unspoken past whispered through the room fleetingly, before Citan shook it off with the ease of long practice.
"Is there any way that this could be a residual power signature... perhaps from the ruins of Shevat?"
Sigurd shook his head. "No. We thought of that too--but it's too different. I'll be frank, Hyuga--we correlated these readings with everything else in our databanks, and only one thing came even close." He watched the lamplight flicker across Citan's face, making his features even more difficult to read than usual.
"Xenogears' power signature. Nothing of that magnitude, of course--but the. . 'flavor' of it seems to have similarities."
Citan rubbed his hand wearily over his eyes. "I assume you're forming an expedition to investigate?" His voice was resigned, and Sigurd leaned forward, his frame tense with mingled excitement and dread.
"Yes. You know as well as I do that there's no choice in the matter. If we picked it up in Aveh, then others will be able to do so as well, if they haven't already. And if there *is* some sort of old technology there, then we need to make sure that it gets into the right hands." His mouth was set in a thin line. "Can you imagine what would happen if some petty would-be warlord gets his hands on nanotechnology? We'll end up being ruled by another Solaris. . .or worse. This is one Pandora's box we can't close, Hyuga--so at the very least we need to understand what might come out."
"You're right, of course." Citan stood up from the table, carrying the teacups to a sideboard. "And a part of me is insatiably curious as to what might be down there."
"Only a part?" Sigurd asked quizzically.
"Well. . .yes. There is also a part of me that simply wishes to bury my head under a stack of books and pretend you were never here, bringing me yet more mysteries I may not be able to solve. Perhaps it is cowardice--"
"I would call it the desire of a soldier for some peace, instead. I can't blame you, Hyuga. How could I, when I've often wished the same thing? However, I don't think either of us can afford to indulge ourselves with this."
"You're right, of course. I will go." Citan sighed and leaned against the countertop. "That is. . .if you wish me to come along?"
Sigurd's golden-tan face creased in a smile. "No, I usually hike up entire mountains just for the exercise. Of course I do. If anyone can figure out the ramifications of what may be down there, you can."
"Thank you." He turned back to the table. "And I would suggest that we invite Fei to come along as well." His guest's eyebrows flew upwards in surprise.
"Not that I don't want him along, Citan--but are you sure? The last time I talked with Fei, he seemed pretty emphatic about being left alone."
Citan gave him a sardonic look. "I think he'll come along for this. I don't know of anyone else that has access to memories spanning several millennia--and if these ruins are anything like the Zeboim ones, they'll be crawling with Wels and worse. I do not relish the thought of going down there *without* Xenogears at my back."
Sigurd held up his hands placatingly. "All right--I'm not arguing with you. But since he's got a soft spot for you, 'Doc', you're going to be the one to ask him. *I'm* certainly not about to risk getting him angry!"
"Certainly," Citan replied smoothly. Internally he fretted--it seemed Fei's self-imposed isolation, while therapeutic for him, was also apparently enhancing his reputation for uncontrolled destructiveness. Perhaps it was time they had a talk. "Not tonight, however. It's late, and I am long overdue for some sleep. Do you need a futon as well?"
"No, it's alright--I actually should be getting back to the ship. We'll be waiting for you down in the valley when you're ready." He paused in the doorway. "Sleep well, old friend."
"And you as well." Citan gave him a faint smirk, remembering a previous misadventure. "And try not to fall off the mountain on your way down, all right?"
Sigurd adopted a vaguely offended expression as he retorted, "I'll have you know, Hyuga, that I haven't fallen off a cliff in years!" He beat a hasty retreat out the door, as an overly casual observation trailed out behind him.
". . .so that's why you decided to live in a desert. I'd always wondered. . ."
End Prologue
posted 03-Jul-2000
revised 04-Aug-2000
(2 days later--the Ice Fields.)
Fei's cheery voice was thinned by bursts of static as it came over the com-link. "So, Doc--what exactly are we looking for?"
"I'm not really sure, Fei," Citan replied. "I have a feeling we'll know it when we see it."
"Uh huh." Through his Gear's visual display, Fei surveyed the immense, rubble-filled ice cavern around them doubtfully. "Hope you're right--otherwise we're never gonna find anything in *this* mess. Looks like part of the cave ceiling collapsed when the Wave Existence, uh, left."
Sigurd interjected briskly, "Citan--are Heimdal's sensors picking up that power signature?"
"Only intermittently, I'm afraid--the residual Ether echoes in this area are interfering. It does seem to get slightly stronger due north east, though."
The three Gears picked their way carefully over the uneven and treacherous floor of the ice-bound cavern. Sigurd's smaller, red-armored Gear led the way in the echoing dimness, carefully testing the broken cave floor for unexpected crevices and sinkholes that would trap the machines. The heaver green-and-white form of Heimdal maneuvered sure-footedly behind him as Citan watched both his surroundings and his sensors with a wary eye. Fei, in Xenogears, guarded the rear. Its silver white armor blended eerily into the icy walls that surrounded them, even as it hovered with its usual silent ease.
Citan broke the silence once again. "Over there--I just got a strong spike from one of my sensors. Do you see anything, Sigurd?"
"Negative. Are you sure of your readings?" Sigurd's red Gear stepped forward to explore the direction indicated, only to stop suddenly as an icily reflective wall suddenly loomed out of the dimness and presented him with a wobbly reflection of his gear--mere inches away from the exterior of his cockpit. He breathed a small sigh of relief at the narrowly-avoided collision. "It's a dead end, Citan. Maybe the ice is bouncing the sig--"
*CRAAAAAAAAAAACK!!*
Xenogears lunged forward, even as Fei's voice crackled to life. "Sigurd, move! The floor under you is--!"
Sigurd fired his thrusters in a desperate lunge towards Xenogears' outstretched gauntlet even as the ice below cracked and began to crumble. A mere foot away from safety, the icy floor collapsed, falling away into the darkness below and taking Sigurd's Gear with them.
"Sigurd!"
Their only answer was a faint, echoing crash.
"C'mon, Doc--we gotta go help him!" Xenogears dropped down into the darkness after the vanished Gear without waiting for an answer. Citan shook his head wryly even as he followed suit.
"Fei, someday we are going to have to discuss this 'leap first, look later' attitude of yours... "
Thrusters firing sporadically, the two Gears fell with ponderous grace down the ravine. The flickering light from their engines dimly lit the craggy walls of the crevasse; Citan noted with a certain interest that the layers of dirt and ice were giving away to solid bedrock.
"This area of the caves is below the permafrost layer of the glaciated surface. Interesting," he murmured contemplatively.
There were several long, tense minutes as they uneasily watched the crevasse get smaller around them--then the bottom finally solidified out of the dimness, and rose to meet them. The two Gears landed gently in a shower of falling dirt and debris; Fei spotted Sigurd's Gear first as it lay crumpled under a large mound of rubble.
"Sigurd! You okay in there?" Sigurd shook his head and probed gingerly at fresh bruises as he replied. The transmission was fractured and fuzzy, interrupted by heavy bursts of static as the unit sparked in protest.
"I'm all right--*shzzzt*--just banged around a bit." Blinking red telltales stared up accusingly from his cockpit controls. "My Gear took the worst of it--looks like the right knee connectors and hydra--*shzzzkt*--badly damaged. Energy levels are down to 42%." He heard the odd metallic scrape of armored fingers against stone as his two companions set to work clearing the debris. Unable to help, he continued to evaluate the situation. The few test routines he initiated caused the machine to whine in protest as it refused to move.
"I'm afraid this Gear's taken me as far as it's going to, " he remarked idly to himself. He began setting the disabled machine into a passive surveillance mode as the others worked. "Hm. No signs of life down here... not--*shhhkkkt*--even the usual monsters. Where are we exactly?"
"At a rough estimate, approximately half a mile below the surface," Citan replied. "We seem to be in a deeper level of a very extensive cave system." With a final heave, Heimdal cleared the last boulder off of the disabled Gear and its trapped pilot.
Sigurd leaned forward, about to spring the hatch, when a soft 'bleep' from the sensor array caught his attention. His eyes widened.
"Fei, Citan. Are you picking up the same thing I am?"
Citan maneuvered Heimdal clear before checking his instruments. He straightened in surprise. "Power signatures. And the sensor echoes indicate metallic alloys and man-made structures behind these rock walls."
"I can go ya one better, Doc!" Fei's voice brimmed with excitement. "I can see a hatch!" He jumped out of his cockpit eagerly, grabbing a lantern as he went. His lanky, athletic form darted up a rockslide eagerly, brown ponytail whipping behind him, and he rapped his knuckles inside a well-hidden crevice. "See? Metal! And I think I see a latch of some sort... "
Putting Heimdal on standby, Citan left his Gear and joined Sigurd as they climbed after their impetuous friend. Citan inspected the dirty, half-obscured metal in the dim lamplight.
"You're right--it does seem to be a hatch of some kind." He pulled on it experimentally. "It appears to be sealed shut."
"We could always take a crack at it with one of the Gears," Fei offered.
"Not a good idea. We could destroy whatever's behind it as well. Not to mention that part of this cave has already collapsed on us--it probably wouldn't take much to trigger another cave-in." He tapped his foot consideringly. "No, what we really need is a. ."
*snap!* *hisss*
Sigurd moved forward, a lit cutting torch in his hand. He cocked an ironic eyebrow. "You were saying?"
"Ah. Never mind." He stepped back and waved Sigurd at the door. "I should have known you'd be prepared."
"I never break into ancient ruins without one... " quipped the irritatingly smug ex-pirate.
The work was slow and laborious. Sigurd worked cautiously, trying to avoid unseen hazards in the small circle of lamplight while his two companions silently stood guard. Fei rubbed his arms--his initial excitement had worn off, only to be replaced by a certain nervousness. The only sound was the hiss of the torch in the darkness, and the oppressive silent stone all around them suddenly seemed confining. Fei desperately tried not to think of the half mile of rock pressing down on them; stone that could easily trap them here, away from air and light and freedom--forever.
The torch snapped off. "That's done it, I think." Sigurd mopped a sleeve against his sweaty forehead. "One good hit and it should fall inwards." He looked sidelong at their resident martial artist. "If you don't mind?"
"No prob." Glad for something to do, Fei cracked his knuckles and bounced up and down slightly, gauging his distance. Citan laid a cautionary hand on his shoulder.
"Make sure to hold your breath, Fei--the air is sure to be old and tainted. Fall back once you've knocked it in, all right?"
Fei grinned confidently. "Sure, Doc. Don't worry, I've got it under control." He launched himself forward even as the others stepped backwards, one foot flying with unerring accuracy towards the burnt out circle of the hatchway. Heel met metal with penetrating force--and the metal buckled and flew backward under the impact of the kick, clattering heavily into the pitch blackness beyond. Fei retreated slightly (though nowhere near the safe distance Citan would have liked), as all three waited for the outrush of tainted, long-sealed air.
Instead, all that caressed their cautious senses was a slight exhalation, sterile, cold, and... clean? Citan frowned. Though welcome, the dusty but clean air whispered of perhaps even greater puzzles. His readings had indicated metal that was thousands. . .perhaps even hundreds of thousands of years old. How could the air inside such a relic be anything but long dead as well?
"Onward and upward," he murmured. His two companions gave him a combined questioning look. "There's only one way to find out what's in there," he clarified. "Let's see what this is all about." Raising his lantern high, he ventured forward, stepping through the cut-out hatchway into the darkness.
They walked quietly, grouped together as they watched for packs of the monstrous Wels or other, more mechanical hazards. Their lamps flickered feebly--the overlapping pools of light were barely enough to reveal their surroundings. Cautiously, the small group picked their way down curved metal hallways thick with tangled cables and broken piping. Ancient and brittle broken glass crunched into dust under their feet; a heavy blanket of dust lay over everything, undisturbed by wind or life in a thousand years. Nothing disturbed the heavy silence, save the intrusive sound of their footsteps, and their flickering shadows seemed to almost cringe under the weighted shell around them.
"This feels... like a tomb, guys," Fei remarked. His normally buoyant tones were hushed and quiet.
"Normally I would agree," Sigurd replied in low tones. "But the power signals we received seem to indicate that something's not quite dead down here. Though I certainly don't understand how that could be." He stepped through another empty hatchway, and surveyed the dead end of twisted metal and protruding rock that lay beyond. "This place is ancient... older than the Zeboim. About as old as... " He stopped for a moment and tried in vain to find a comparison.
"... the Eldridge." Citan looked away down another corridor and its maze of dangling wiring and broken machinery. His observations began to click into place as he mentally compared the two. "Remember the ship that contained Deus? The colony ship that brought humankind here so long ago? Look at the design, and the sophistication of the machinery. Even shattered as this place is... it is very similar. More so than anything else that we've discovered since."
Fei whistled quietly in disbelief as they moved deeper into the ruins, passing by empty cabins and broken storage containers. "That doesn't make sense--how can there be another ship besides the Eldridge?"
"I didn't say it made sense. It's just the only thing that seems to fit my observations at the moment." The small group halted at yet another dead end--and looked at the unbroken and sealed door before them. A door that, unlike all the rest, was guarded by a small red light. The small, unmistakable warning signal blinked at regular intervals over a blank screen set into the wall.
Citan looked at the small red LED with an annoyed sort of fascination. "Amazing. It appears this area is still functional. I wonder if we can deactivate this without setting off some kind of defense mechanisms...?"
Fei reached forward and flicked a finger experimentally at the light. "Maybe if we ask nicely?" he suggested whimsically, only to jerk back in startlement as a sudden light flared from the screen to illuminate his palm. "Whoa! What the. .?"
Citan leaned forward eagerly. "Do that again, Fei." His young friend looked at him dubiously--then gingerly waved his palm over the screen again. The small screen lit up in a complex pattern of characters. They flickered past in an unreadable blur as a small technicolored rainbow of light systematically scanned Fei's outstretched palm from wrist to fingertips.
"Interesting. It seems to be some sort of genetic scan--similar to the ones Solaris used to have."
Fei looked nervous. "Yeah, well--is this one going to toast me too if it decides I don't belong here?"
Citan shrugged. "I have no idea."
"What?!" Fei's imminent protest was cut short by a pleasant, mechanized voice that issued from the unit--one that spoke in a language none of them recognized. It uttered a few phrases, then fell silent again. "I suppose you don't know what that meant, either?"
"Well, maybe if I studied it ... some of the phrases seemed rather familiar. . "
Sigurd rolled his eyes in exasperation at their heated discussion, and interjected mildly, "Well, what do we do now? It seems we've hit another dead end." A sharp *click* issued from behind him--as if to mock him, the door unlocked itself and slid jerkily open.
Citan couldn't resist making the inevitable comment.
"Well, apparently--asking nicely works."
Sigurd slanted him a dirty look. "Well, since it looks like we've been invited... "
As the small group of explorers ventured past the doorway, the minimal, more-felt-than-seen thrum of active machinery hummed quietly around them. After a long, tense moment when nothing shot, gassed, or otherwise tried to attack them, the three warriors relaxed.
"Apparently we *were* invited," Citan murmured. The sound of his voice echoed hollowly in the room. As if in response, dim, bluish lights flicked on one by one and dimly lit the area.
Fei surveyed his surroundings with an air of bemused fascination.
In contrast to the broken, cramped metal hallways they had just spent a small eternity exploring, the chamber they had just entered was enormous. Under the minimal lighting, the vast expanse of ceiling and wall stretched away into the distance, fading into dark and shadowed corners. The room's metal and polymer surfaces gleamed dully, untouched, under their heavy patina of dust and grime; the walls of silent computer banks and consoles shouldered their smooth rectangular lines into the lamplight as they approached. Darkly blank, yet unbroken monitors gazed at the the three intruders; all their activity long silenced. All of them, that is--except one.
One quietly blinking, still active console rested among its silent neighbors. It faithfully continued its tasks for masters long gone, while five other enigmatic cylindrical banks made an exact semicircle around it. Caught for a moment by the unexpected sign of life, Fei's wondering gaze was drawn irresistably further. Curious, he followed the sweep of walls and the curves of still other huge metal structures, their clean lines dulled by hanging equipment and the ever present cloak of dust. And yet, for all its seeming jumble, everything here seemed to have a place and a purpose.
Even to his non-scientific gaze, it was obvious--THIS was the heart of the ship.
Citan, predictably, headed straight for the lone active console. His dark head bowed over his work as he immediately plunged into an intensely focused trance over the puzzle before him. His fingers flew over the console with an tentative, eager touch as he watched and listened to the foreign responses he evoked with a fierce concentration. Fei knew from experience that it would take no less than a bomb going off at his feet before Citan could be pulled away from a puzzle this intriguing ...
Sigurd, on the other hand, had turned his focus to more practical matters, scouting in and around the massive, echoing chamber and its puzzling banks of machinery. Only the silver glint of his hair in the dimness gave away his stealthy reconnaissance.
For his part, Fei felt uncomfortably like a fifth wheel. He fidgeted uncertainly--he certainly couldn't pretend to any great scientific knowledge like the Doc and Sigurd possessed. He preferred a more direct, forceful approach to problems; and he was simply out of his depth with a puzzle like this. When you came right down to it, he was still a Lamb, born and bred. Well, except for the fact that most Lambs didn't have ancient memories of previous incarnations floating to the surface at the most *inconvenient* times...
Like now. Fei was suddenly, uneasily aware of the overwhelming feeling of deja vu that seemed to breathe from the bones of this old ship. *Something*, a broken and childish memory, nagged at the corners of his waking mind. Fei rubbed his forehead in exasperation--this memory was too far away, too fragmented to be resolved. Instead it simply made its presence known by raising the hackles on his neck, and lending an air of ... familiarity... to the sleek walls around him.
Turning abruptly, Fei began to wander forward determinedly. It was hard to separate what was 'him' from his previous incarnations at the best of times--and this was neither the time nor the place to wrestle with old demons. In an effort to distract himself, he idly inspected the consoles around the computer Citan was studying, trailing his fingers over their dusty surfaces curiously.
He froze in shock, hand still resting gently on the surface. A transparent surface that, through the now-streaked dust, had revealed its secret.
The console didn't hold machinery. It held a person.
"My God... " he breathed. "Sigurd! Come look at this. . you won't believe it." With morbid eagerness, he rubbed away more of the dust with his sleeve, revealing the hidden form encased in its glassy coffin. No dried and desiccated husk, this--but the form of a young man no older than Fei himself, and perfectly preserved. Dark lashes rested against smooth, unbearded cheeks; the still, unmoving features topped by an unruly shock of chocolate-dark hair.
Sigurd walked up swiftly, and stared as well. "Amazing... one of the crew? Perhaps this is how they preserved their dead... " Fei shook his head slightly.
"No, I don't think so... this doesn't feel like a tomb... " He looked, fascinated, at the strange youth's leanly muscled body, so eerily similar to his own. Clad in dark trousers and a loose green sleeveless top, the stranger's expression had a certain latent fierceness, and lay with his head and body inclined to one side. Fei's gaze followed the line of a muscled arm to the sinewy hand that pressed silently against the glass--almost as if it was reaching through it to something unseen.
Sigurd also noticed the hand. "I wonder... " He moved to the neighboring console and brushed away the dust with eagerly. "Look, Fei--another one... " His calloused hands swept away the grime of accumulated age to reveal another youth--this one clad all in black. A long braid of chestnut hair fell gently over the still chest, and the figure was in a now-familiar prone position--body inclined towards his dark-haired neighbor; hand pressed firmly against the glass barrier that separated them. "Amazing," he repeated.
"They're not the only ones... look!" Fei moved swiftly, heedless of the clouds of dust he kicked up. "All of these things have someone in 'em." With the thrill of discovery, he wiped off the two furthest consoles. Positioned at the far end of the semicircle, they contained the forms of a lanky, brown-haired young man with no visible expression on the still face, and a young golden-haired youth, who even in death had a small, sad smile that seemed to calm the heart. Sigurd went to uncover the final cylinder.
Tucked in the center of the semi-circle--almost as if he was protected by his comrades, was the final body. Once again, uncannily young, the fifth strange boy wore a ponytail similar to Fei's own and lay dignified and quiet, arms crossed across his muscular chest in a stoic pose. Fei looked from the final youth to the others, and spoke his thoughts out loud.
"They're all young... and they're the only ones here. I wonder why? And who put them here?"
Sigurd moved away with a sure stride, beckoning Fei along with him. "I don't know who put them there or how they died... but I think I know why they were here. Look." He drew close to the edge of the chamber and pointed upwards. "What do you see?"
"Huh?" Fei squinted upwards into the dimness. "Just some junk--some cables... weird metal thingies... why?"
"Take away the dust, and the hanging metal debris. Can you see it now? Look... there's the head... and an arm. The chest is hidden in the shadows, but you can make it out if you know what you're looking at." As he continued to point, the vague, dust-covered and shadowy shapes began to resolve themselves into coherent order. Fei felt his jaw drop in shock as the outlines of the mecha gradually became recognizable, and nearly gave himself whiplash when he spun around to confirm what his eyes told him. Not just one mecha, but arranged against the walls, hidden by shadows, fallen scaffolding, and dirt were two--three--no, five of them! Their gleaming armor dulled by the ravages of time, the silent metal sentinels stared back at the staring young man. Fei shivered as he met their mechanically impassive gaze.
Five bodies. Five machines. It made an odd sort of sense. Fei whispered hoarsely, "Five pilots... for five Gears?" Sigurd began to reply, only to be interrupted by Citan's dryly analytical tones as he rejoined them.
"Not Gears, Fei... Gundams."
End Part One
(:./hope/dream1)
