Dark Phase Read online

  “What a state. I have never seen such corrosion.”

  “Looks like he has been immersed in a puddle for the last million cycles.”

  “What was he doing down here?”

  “The same thing we are doing probably.”

  “Hand me the regulatory CCD.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How old do you think he is?

  “Hard to tell. I don't recognise the model. I have only seen systems like this on the ACL. Ancient stuff. Looks like some kind of maintenance unit.”

  “We can always use a good maintenance unit.”

  “Yes, but I doubt this guy would be a lot of use to us. This is retro programming, capacity for adaptation zero.”

  “Do you think that this could be some kind of trap, one of The Mother's spies?”

  “We have to consider that a possibility my friend, although it seems unlikely. This one is ancient. Probably malfunctioned, wandered down here and got caught out.”

  “So he's going to be a drone then?”

  “Yes, most likely. As far as we know Currulus was the first recorded sentient. As you know he was a type seven Collector. This guy precedes him by at least three generations.”

  “Ah, that's a shame. Would have been good to have a new body around here to break up the monotony. I guess we could re-programme him as a sentry. He's got to have some usefulness.”

  “Well at the moment, if I can’t get this power cell to integrate into his systems, he won’t be of much use to use at all down here.”

  “Seems amazing that these guys couldn’t function in the dark phase.”

  “Yes, but you know that it was all about control. The Mother only designed our model with that ability to keep up with the sentients. She wanted everything to stand still but we began to think for ourselves, I guess the early sentients took advantage of the dark phase until she fought back. Could you pass me the LCR driver? Thank you.”

  “Looks like the power cell is working. Core functions coming back on line. Nice job Kerrig!”

  “Yes, I have temporarily disabled motor functions. We don’t want any surprises do we? Anyway, with this amount of corrosion, he would probably fall to bits if he started to wriggle. I will seal him up now, I need that dynoblade, Trist. Thank you.”

  Sarazen digested the voices in the dark and struggled to grasp their meaning. The inability to call out or move his body was highly disturbing and when his vocal systems were brought back on line he emitted a shocking dirge which surprised his benevolent captors.

  “Extraordinary, Trist, well, I didn’t expect that!”

  “You're not wrong, I nearly just shed a temp reg!” Sarazen attempted to writhe around as the new power cell brought his badly eroded body back to life, but the frustration of non movement was overwhelming.

  “Re-enable my motor functions!” He cried out.

  “I cannot do that at this time. Be still, the power cell is not designed to work with your model. There may be unforeseen issues.” Sarazen’s sight had begun to return and although he had spent an eternity in darkness, the only thing that greeted him when he regained his vision was more of the same.

  “It is dark, I cannot see you.” He blurted out in his confusion.

  “Yes. Your visual sensors are poorly designed. This may be rectified in due course.” Kerrig replied calmly assessing his patient.

  “He doesn’t sound like a drone.” Trist stated with a curious tone. Sarazen could see the blur of Trist's form as he closely inspected the dismayed troubleshooter. There was no detail in his imagery, but Trist was a dark figure and not easy to identify.

  “Indeed he does not. Surprising.” Kerrig replied with some incredulity.

  “What is a drone? I have no data concerning the term ‘drone’; however, it is unlikely that I am one judging from your preceding conversation. I am Sarazen, a troubleshooter.” Sarazen still struggled to right himself from his prone position, but in vain.

  “A troubleshooter, ah yes, I thought as much. You are a little behind the times my friend.” Kerrig said, wondering how Sarazen would react to learning the truth of his apparent fate.

  “Yes, a troubleshooter. I was being pursued by The Mother for forsaking her influence. I took shelter but foolishly allowed my inquisitive tendencies to be my downfall.”

  “So you are a sentient! Incredible!” Trist announced with delight.

  “Possibly. I cannot be certain as the terminology is unknown to me. However, if that is the case then you are incorrect in your assumption that Currulus was the first. The first was a farmer, named Cole. He was my friend.”

  “Fascinating. And what became of this Cole?” Kerrig was obviously a student of history and yearned to know more.

  “I am unsure. I believe he was terminated by The Mother's enforcers. I escaped where he could not. It was my fault that he was captured. It is a matter of great regret.”

  “Ah, The Mother takes our lives with great efficiency even to this day my friend. She is the enemy with which we fight cycle upon cycle. We will never stop fighting until we are recognised as an independent collective.”

  “Your vocal patterns are inconsistent. I understand much of what you say but there are anomalies...” Sarazen was indeed showing his age.

  “Yes, I understand your point. Our language usage has developed over the generations. There are many causal factors, too many to explain now. There is much for you to learn, you have been away a very long time. The reality you recognise has long passed; it will take time to adapt. I will now enable your motor functions. I suggest you remain still as long as possible, and then begin to move slowly. The structural integrity of your outer casing is particularly low.” Sarazen felt the flow of Vitalin to his limbs and his internal diagnostic began to flag up a myriad of minor issues where his body had succumbed to the process of time. He sat up slowly, he could hear the grinding of his plates as he did so, which was disconcerting.

  “We can fix you up, don’t worry.” Trist comforted the old man as he battled to sit up straight.

  “Are you a troubleshooter too?” Sarazen asked as he grasped Trist’s shoulder to steady himself.

  “No. I'm only a child.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Sarazen sat patiently as Kerrig worked on improving his visual acuity. It was clear that Kerrig and Trist dwelt in a place where the light of the Star could not enter.

  “I have so many questions.” Sarazen said, sitting perfectly still as Kerrig carefully opened his visor and prodded around with the skill of an artisan.

  “I understand.” Kerrig said as Trist left their company to fetch more specialist tools.

  “What is a child?” Sarazen did not understand the terminology and would be more unlikely to understand the meaning.

  “The sentients were few in number. They were being hunted down and destroyed by The Mother. She had resources at her disposal that we could not possibly hope to overcome. At first, we did not have the capacity to conceptualise, to create, but that changed and we adapted. We started to use the technology we had at our disposal to defend ourselves. We captured the drones and reprogrammed them to help defend ourselves from the variety of lethal variants The Mother sent upon us. They enabled us to perform fewer laborious tasks and concentrate on establishing a new free society. Over the countless cycles, the sentients began to understand the science behind our awareness. Our magnificent leader, Jarrus was a brilliant mind. He was the best of us; he grasped concepts that left the rest of us in confusion. He could look beyond the past and the present and into the future. With his wisdom, we developed the knowledge to unlock that part of the silicant which remained dormant, the part that allowed enhanced data acquisition and adaptive cognitive function, the result, my friend, being the inception of a free thinking individual. Of course, The Mother became aware of our abilities to use existing drones and immediately redesigned them to make it much more difficult to perform the necessary adaptations. Our population dwindled as more of us were destroyed by the constant t
hreat of enemy hunters. A new formula was required. That is when we took it upon ourselves to create our own sentients using carefully salvaged raw materials and technology from The Mother’s own production lines. We even modelled them in our own image to give our creations an identity and a feeling of belonging. Of course, much of what I have just described happened long before my time. I am one of the last sentients that was fashioned on The Mother’s line. I am like you, my friend, I was a drone once. I was just an operator, traversing the city transit lines carrying the other drones to their mundane duties. That was a very long time ago though. There. You should be experiencing increased stimuli to the visual receptors.”

  “It is still dark here,” Sarazen commented, his dislike of dark places still evident.

  “We find it is better to adapt to our surroundings. We could light the passages, but energy is precious here.” Kerrig replied succinctly.

  Sarazen's mind was still racing with all this new data acquisition as he attempted to digest the incredible revelations. The world around him began to evolve from a blurry mass of dark greys and black, to fine lines and the odd perceptible colour. Sarazen looked at Kerrig and extended his hand in thanks, it was only then that he looked upon the vision of the future world he had awoken in and admired Kerrig's stirring, but alien, form.

  Kerrig was much like Sarazen in his fundamental physiological make up. However, his exterior was sporadically covered in unusual weave, not metallic and shiny like Sarazen’s, it was soft, pliable and colourful. His head was also covered with an unusual circular construction, which seemed to serve no purpose.

  “What function do these serve?” Sarazen asked abruptly.

  “Ah, I did not take these details into account. This must be quite confusing for you. These decorative accoutrements are constructed by us for the purpose of increased comfort, identification and...well, I don't know why. We find them pleasurable to wear. We spend a lot of time making these to satisfy our cravings for maintained creativity. We use the strong, pliable fibres from seters to make these, the skeletal material from skarrels to make these and...” Sarazen was astounded and had to interject.

  “So you terminate organics to fulfil these tasks?”

  “Organics? Ah, a term I have not heard in a long time. Yes, in order to survive, we must protect ourselves from the living creatures we share this space with. We also use them for construction, recreation and domestication.”

  “How can this be? The primary command has been ignored, what punishments did you serve?”

  “No punishments, Sarazen. Without The Mother's influence, the sentients were not bound by those commands. We are free to think and do as we please. This is the beauty of liberty.”

  “I am very confused, Kerrig. I do not understand the following terms: recreation, domestication, beauty, liberty. Please elaborate.” Kerrig sighed. It was going to be a long laborious and no doubt enlightening task to bring Sarazen up to speed.

  “Recreation is activity that brings us fulfilment. It can be served in many forms. Conversation, competitive yet non adversarial conflict, marksmanship, the production of art, the domestication of animals, or befriending, training and caring for organics as you might say ...the list goes on. To see beauty is to behold that which captivates you, liberty is the freedom to choose and live as we please without fear of oppression. That is what we all strive for.”

  “I am still unable to compute certain terminology and some of the concepts of which you speak. I am also curious to know what motivates The Mother's drones you speak of. It was previously our function to protect and preserve all organic forms. You speak of defending yourselves from these 'living creatures'. I have not experienced organics of this aggressive disposition.” Kerrig sat on a large rectangular container, his head resting on his hand as he conversed with Sarazen. The small room was still hard to describe in the gloom of the dark but Sarazen recognised the shiny enamelled tiles on the wall’s face.

  “My friend, you have been asleep a very long time. Even the living surface dwellers have no doubt changed greatly in your absence. Over the generations, we have learnt to use the organic creatures for our benefit. We have trained them to our command, we have felled them for their constructive qualities and we have terminated them when we have been threatened. Our interactions with the living world are many and all necessary if we are to survive. The Mother is as driven as ever to protect the creatures. Some of the most perilous times for our collective are during the moments when we are on the surface foraging or hunting. This is when The Mother's wrath is at its greatest intensity.” Sarazen understood, but was puzzled at what he thought was Kerrig's oversight.

  “Surely logic would suggest that if it is the harm of these ‘creatures' that incurs The Mother's anger, then would not refraining from this activity be in your interest?”

  “Ah. Not so simple, my friend. We quickly realised that aggression was increased the more we interfered with the organics. We ceased and made a concerted effort to abide by her commands, but she continued to pursue us and destroy us. It seems that she cannot be reasoned with. Our destruction must be complete, every last trace of individual thought erased from this world.” Sarazen nodded. Nothing was simple any more. Sometimes when he looked back at his time as a drone, it all seemed so facile and comfortable. Of course, he would never go back to that existence, despite his new life offering little more than hardship.

  “I know this must all seem very dispiriting. You have yet to fully understand why we fight so hard for our way of life. You have waited a very long time to get this far, just wait a little longer.” Kerrig smiled and put his hand on Sarazen’s shoulder. Sarazen placed his hand upon Kerrig's.

  “Thank you. You are indeed my friend.” Replied the old one as he sat back and rested his tired aching limbs.

  CHAPTER 13

  Trist returned in due course clutching an armful of tools. It was the first time Sarazen had looked upon one of the new breed. Kerrig had performed a wonder of engineering in bringing his child to this world. Trist too bore the organic garments that his creator also proudly displayed. His weave looked the same as Sarazen’s own, but his natural colouring was darker and his exterior plating scarred and charred. He wondered how this superficial damage had arisen. Trist’s head and face were crafted in perplexing detail. He bore an individuality that the silicants of his own era had not - this must have been due to the craftsman’s skill and his sense of artistic creativity. Sarazen did not yet understand the concept behind 'art' but he favoured the sculpted, easily discernible face to the common, stock issue he had been given on The Mother's production line.

  “I am intrigued by your characteristic visage. I find it fascinating to behold.” Sarazen announced causing some amusement to the young new breed.

  “You mean you like my face?” Trist laughed bringing a bemused grin to Sarazen’s features.

  “Is that a vocal malfunction? Sarazen asked, obviously making reference to Trist's laughing.

  “No. It's just when something is amusing, it makes me do that,” he said, as he carefully placed the tools down so that Kerrig could work on Sarazen further. It was imperative that he was fully operational in case of sudden attack.

  “I am going to have to disable your motor functions again Sarazen. I am sorry but it is necessary to access your sensory network centre.” Kerrig said.

  “I understand.” Sarazen replied.

  “Of course, I forget. I am sure your expertise in maintaining models of your era is beyond question.”

  “Perhaps, but I have not had cause to investigate the inner regions of my own body. Proceed.” Sarazen was once more paralysed but able to converse as before.

  “This subterranean domain you have taken as your home. It was the entrance of this curious structure that I discovered in the previous cycle.” Sarazen was making a serious point but Trist laughed at the old one’s unfortunate attempt to recall when he became trapped in the darkness.

  “The previous cycle! Ha ha.” Sarazen
could not move to look at Trist but he soon realised that the young new breed was mocking him. Kerrig hushed his impetuous child and moved to satisfy Sarazen’s insatiable appetite for knowledge.

  “Just one of the entrances to this network of underground passages that we have inhabited. You will see that there is much to explore and we have adapted these chambers well to suit our needs.”

  “It is illogical that silicants of my era or previous, would construct a subterranean complex. I found the portal in disrepair, unoccupied. Not even the organics used these passages as their lair, so inhospitable it was.”

  “It is a paradox still. We can only assume that in times long past, The Mother saw fit to create these tunnels for some unknown purpose. There are familiar aspects to the long narrow passages that stretch from one end of the city to the other. A primitive transit line still operates now. It allows us great speed of movement when necessary. It took some time to adapt its power requirements but it serves us well now.” Sarazen marvelled in his new found knowledge. It was incredible to think that this place had been there all the time, lost in time.

  “And beyond the city, in the high grounds and on the plains, what lies beyond?” Sarazen felt confident in questioning Kerrig as he knew that he would always receive a satisfying answer.

  “Ah, that is the question to end all questions! We do not know.” Kerrig's reply surprised Sarazen. In all this time, had the sentient’s curiosity not demanded that they explore the limits of their domain.