Vec
Timemaster
The Great Artisan, Divine Mason, Builder of Civilisations
Level 5 God of Crafting (Masonry, Carpentry, Smithing, Alchemy, Armaments)
28.75 Might & 2 Free Points
Mirus.
Coordinates: 81.983°N, -26.901°E, -11,554m.
Heartworm's Laboratory.
The acoustics of submaterial Mirus are often good. Even more often, they are haunting. Locked in metal tubes with peculiar resonance, sounds carry and thrum in peculiar ways at peculiar times.
A sharp steel tapping ricocheted its constant note from an increasingly fortified room, never varying in tempo or pitch.
tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic
It was Heartworm's hoof, clicking hard and fast upon a metal floor, keeping time for its whirring thoughts.
Over the past days (just hours in sequence, there were no days and there was no sleep) it had been sacrificing more and more attention to protocol in order to wring its chances as high as it could with the resources it had. Now it sat on the top of its vehicle, which was plugged into a dozen ports with unskinned grafts, and plates of nanofibre stacked around it in clouds of evaporating nitrogen. Raw mechanisms protruded from the walls, fans, cables, and diodes flickering in every direction, coloured signals whose function it alone knew.
It replayed the message. Words on a chromatophore screen.
>Heartworm, this is Teknall. I know you're listening.
>I found the digital virus you got Lazarus to make for you.
>You've delayed me, but haven't stopped me.
>I can reset the drones, inoculate them, redistribute them across Mirus.
>I can still find you.
>You know I'm hunting you, but you probably don't know why.
>I need to talk to you about what you did to Vakarlon, and what you're going to do to Keriss.
>I'll get my answers one way or the other.
>I'm giving you the chance to choose how.
tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic
That had been half an hour ago. Heartworm disconnected the nerve bundle between it and the vehicle and climbed in. It retracted the body's tendrils and the ports sagged.
Deep space.
It had left its second neural computer in a bubble outside the galaxy. A butchered Tounic link ran between that and its own bunker. It was unlikely that either Teknall or Toun could figure out where it was broadcasting from, but it took no risks.
Teknall had discovered the subterfuge before it had been able to perform a heist on the scale of promoting itself to administrator of his system. It didn't have access to enough of the swarm, nor had its corrupted data packets interfaced well enough with the mainframe. Fortunately, it had made other breakthroughs. While the centre could hold, its myriad children had already been subverted. Heartworm accessed the program it had written.
The drones it controlled lit up a list on the inside of its visor. A subtle modification of Lazarus's glyph had rendered them capable of networking with each other via the connections meant for Teknall's map. Without the glyph siphon, their ability to spread the infovirus was patchy at best, but Heartworm had access to enough broken drones to learn how to slip its way into them. An enhanced version of their own core software received that data in this distant cerebrum. Heartworm accessed their camera feeds and scanned for chromatic aberration.
Tunnels, tunnels, water, metals, curves, carbon-fibre. Odd one out.
Heartworm focused on the oddly-located drone. On its left was another quadcopter, identical in every way, and on its right was a third. Above them was a metal arm with a clamp just big enough to pick one up, stack them, and arrange them. Below, the final segment of an assembly line stretching out of sight.
It saw metals, forming both the ceiling and the distant wall, but they were not the alloy it favoured, nor arranged in the shapes of the tunnels. With the camera's limited field of vision, it saw a sizeable cryogenic chamber, and beyond that what may have been a wall-mounted table of elements. Heartworm needed a better view. A ping of its sonar revealed the outline of the rest of the expansive quadcopter assembly line.
Heartworm commanded its traitor to rise up to a hover. It would not. It managed three rebellious inches before its rotors stuck fast. Though now completely motionless, it still did not fall.
He's fast.
Teknall had been working under a tent of steel mesh, an impromptu Faraday cage, experimenting with the virus and a few drones, when the drone on the assembly line was hijacked. It abberant activity had been obvious to the god, and he had acted before Heartworm could snoop around his Workshop.
A new string of data ran to the central processor, far too simple to be read by that machine, too active and too soon. It read: [>Look At Me. Look At Me. Look At Me.]
Already, Teknall had approached the drone and picked it up. The profile of a hain beak filled the camera's view, with the left pair of eyes looking sternly at the camera.
"Hello, Heartworm."
The camera's view pointed to the concrete floor and there were motions indicative of it being carried by a walking Teknall. A few seconds later it was set upright on a solid surface- a table perhaps- with a view of Teknall. The god was sitting in front of the computer terminal, between the drone and the computer. One set of eyes read the text in the terminal, which currently displayed Heartworm's message. The other set of eyes looked straight into the camera. The drone was still paralysed under Teknall's influence.
"You have my attention."
Somewhere very very distant, there was no air to carry the sound of tapping. Heartworm projected its words into the inside of its visor before it sent them. Letters of First hovered alongside the constant scan for counter-countercode in its machine.
[>Desist,] it commanded. [>Cease your invasion and squander not our various resources. Heartworm is open to negotiation.]
"I wish to speak with you in person regarding the aforementioned matters," Teknall said.
[>Impossible.] Heartworm was not partial to emphasis, but had it the choice, it would have shown in the glyphs. [>There exists no relevant information not relayable through text. Heartworm's security will not be compromised.]
Teknall's face betrayed little of what he thought. "I would prefer a physical meeting, as it is too easy to lie through text."
[>Heartworm lies easily in all circumstances,] spoke the worm. After all, it had no face to show. [>Also rarely. Amenable conclusion is mutual interest. Endeavors to prove veracity of my statements will be provided.]
Teknall was silent for several long seconds. Then he seemed to sag ever so slightly and conceded, "Fine. We shall discuss via text. First point of discussion is Vakarlon and Arksynth. I have identified that Vakarlon has been killed, in a sense, and made a part of the Arksynth. My sources indicate that you are responsible for the creation of the Arksynth. Why did you kill him?"
Heartworm identified a minimum 9% chance that this could be over quickly, and intended to act on it. [>False premise. Vakarlon is not dead.] The signal went on. [>Vakarlon survives as and within arksynth and all derived technology. An element of inalienable randomness, activating in order to perpetuate subversive justice. Sometimes humour. Vakarlon's primary directive continues to be met.]
That wouldn't be enough, of course. [>Vakarlon's consciousness was destroyed voluntarily. Millenia of waning occurred following Disunity. Heartworm found him on Cogitare. Unable to escape its gravity well. Vulamera had formerly revealed source of decline. Was waiting for her return.]
[>Vakarlon confided in Heartworm the presence of a pre-Galbaric entity contained within his psyche. 'Serandor.' Conflagratory deity. Lethal. Growing. Heartworm discerned means by which Vakarlon's psyche could be destroyed. With it Serandor. Such means left Vakarlon's flesh and power available for recycling. In this, mutual opportunity was found.]
Teknall stared at the camera for a little longer, digesting what he had been told. "Did you consider seeking help from the rest of the Pantheon, who may have provided a solution which would have left Vakarlon's consciousness intact?"
Without hesitating, Heartworm said, [>No.] It followed with, [>Consciousness is cheap. Vakarlon's was not worth preserving at risk of reincarnating Serandor. Additionally, Heartworm had no intention of distributing its newfound resource. Arksynth project a resounding success.]
Teknall's eyes narrowed. 'Consciousness is cheap,' it had said. Pragmatic, but nihilistic too.
"You claim that Vakarlon voluntarily went through with this. I am aware that you have numerous mortals who serve under you. Would any of them have witnessed Vakarlon and be able to attest to this?"
Heartworm recalled the gravity it had enjoyed in Mirus, prior to Vakarlon's disintegration. All for the benefit of its technicians. [>Yes,] it confirmed. [>Vakarlon remained in Heartworm's laboratory by choice for some time. Certain synth sculptors will recall his presence.]
Teknall waited a few seconds for an answer which never came to the implied question, before asking, "Could a meeting with one of them be arranged?"
[>Teknall may have identified one already.] Heartworm flicked its records and delivered a package of data containing the chromosomal profile of Help, and a three-dimensional rig of her face. [>Help by name. Former mentor to Tauga. An old asset. Not inclined to ally with Heartworm, nor lie.]
Teknall recognised the face. "She'll do nicely. May I speak with her?"
[>This can be arranged,] said Heartworm, and silently accessed its own telepathic network. Help. Your alignment is required.
Finally, said the small voice far below the surface. Heartworm instructed her to stand by while it scanned the surface of the various moons for a likely enough location.
[>Vakarlon's prolonged presence on Cogitare will have left footprints,] it sent. [>These will confirm his inability to escape unaided.]
"Noted." Looking back, Teknall did recall traces of Vakarlon's waning essence when he had studied the scene of Vulamera's demise, although he had been otherwise occupied at the time and didn't realise that Vakarlon had weakened so greatly.
"As you arrange the meeting, there is the second matter of discussion: Vakarlon's daughter Keriss. To the extent of my knowledge, you have directed Keriss to seek you out, and your proxy Tauga is assisting Keriss to navigate the Well Labyrinth to your location. You fear confrontation with those who might harm you, yet you have invited Keriss, who very much wants to hurt you, to your domain. Why?"
[>Obligation to Vakarlon.] Simpler, maybe, than either of them had expected. [>Vakarlon had little contact with his firstborn. At the time of his death she was missing. Heartworm was instructed to fulfill final duties to Keriss as part of its deal. Since then, she has resurfaced. Contact inevitable.]
"And what will you do when you do meet?" Teknall enquired.
[>Fulfill my oath,] said Heartworm, [>And, if possible, survive.]
Teknall considered the ramifications of this statement. Eventually, he said, "Will you harm Keriss?"
Heartworm considered lying. [>Keriss intends to kill Heartworm. Heartworm does not intend to die. It is extremely unlikely that both parties will live.]
Teknall drummed his fingers and grit his teeth. "Would I be able to assist in preventing such an outcome?"
[>Teknall could arm Heartworm more heavily than it is now. Heartworm may then be capable of subduing Keriss nonlethally. It is, however, unlikely that Keriss will desist from seeking vengeance unless forced.]
Teknall eyed the camera suspiciously. "I'll consider it," he said. Heartworm thought: Doubt it.
Teknall paused for a few moments more. "I have exhausted my intended topics of discussion with you. When will that meeting with Help be ready?"
[>Teknall will be informed adequately. Expect contact within two hours.]
"Alright. I shall await your message."
Teknall leaned over and his hand reached over the view of the camera. There was the sound of plastic being tapped, then the video feed went blank. Far away, Heartworm recovered a small mangrove ball, and tucked it under its visor.
The charcoal-black moon of Cogitare floated in orbit around Galbar, visible mainly from the stars it eclipsed. This moon was where Vulamera lived and died, where Keriss had been born, and where Vakarlon spent eons wasting away.
This was also the moon where Heartworm had told Teknall to meet. The coordinates specified a dusty plateau, with the rim of a crater visible to the east but otherwise unremarkable.
There was a puff of displaced black moondust when the figure of a hain suddenly appeared on the plateau. His beak flicked around a couple of times as he oriented himself, then his eyes focused on another humanoid figure who was waiting nearby. She was crouching, huddled over a rock and a small device, and at first did not notice the newcomer.
Help's body fit in well with the environment. Still vaguely Rovaick in shape, her stony shell had been knitted together with new skin at the seams, hollowed and strengthened. New trachea bulged rigid on her back, and her mask was fully sealed, a faceless head hidden below.
The hain Teknall walked closer. "Hello, Help," he said, his voice being carried without air.
Help startled a little and lowered her gaze to meet his, though she didn't stand. She sounded a short telepathic blip as she noticed Teknall: 'Greetings'. Then she spoke in her mask, and her voice, uncarried, was both small and underused. "But, I'm told you can communicate without needing to hear. Is that right?"
Teknall nodded. "Correct. As a god, I can perceive things in a manner beyond mortal capabilities. Including sound."
Help dipped a head. "Makes things easier." She looked up. "Let's not delay our purpose. We're both here for a reason, and we're being monitored. I'll help you as best I can."
Teknall was quiet for a few seconds. Finally he spoke. "Vakarlon spent some time in Heartworm's laboratory. Tell me about his time there."
"I remember him. We never spoke for long, but he was there. At first he tried to keep good humour, but things were grim, and it showed. Still, he wasn't cold." Nodding. "The Emaciator pulled him aside to experiment regularly. The entire laboratory was extremely busy at that time. He consented, helped, even, but his stay passed in a blur."
"We were the last people he met, I think. And then one day he was gone. It was a poor way to spend one's final days, but better than nothing. I hope."
Teknall nodded thoughtfully. Then he asked, "Do you know anything of Heartworm's plans regarding Keriss?"
Help stood, lowering her head but not her gaze. "There will be blood." The device on the rock blinked once; she noticed but ignored it. "Keriss doesn't hide. I know some things of her. She won't give up, and she won't play lightly. Heartworm barely survived its last encounter with a hostile demigod and it means to do so again. That's why it's having its most potent weapon escort her. I don't believe in Yah Vuh's idea of subduction. If Keriss survives, it will either be as victor, or in pieces. That is the truth."
"I feared as much. So I brought something which might help subvert those outcomes."
Teknall pulled up his satchel and reached into it. He withdrew three cylindrical cannisters. Each was made from thin aluminium, and had a some simple electronics attached. Coloured rectangles of paint and brail-like protrusions were on the side of each to identify them. Help kneeled down and some lights flicked in her mask as she watched.
"They are some non-lethal munitions which could assist Heartworm in resolving its encounter with Keriss without one of them dying." He indicated the one marked with blue. "Alchemist's cement. Starts liquid, lunges forwards and grabs things, then sets solid. Comes in two components, and activates when mixed." He then pointed to the black one. "Potent adhesive. Tar-like and very sticky. Takes a few hours to dry when exposed to air, and retains stickiness until then." Finally he pointed to the pink one. "Concentrated mist from the Valley of Peace. Extremely potent universal tranquiliser."
He held one cannister up so Help could see more clearly. "They detonate on impact, ejecting their contents. Alternatively, they can go off a set amount of time after pressing this button, the time adjusted by twisting this screw. Safety switch prevents detonation when in this position. Contents can also be removed manually by opening these latches." Brisk nod from the Sculptor.
Teknall removed from his satchel a crate containing eleven more of each of the cannisters. Teknall placed the three he had used for demonstration back into the crate, put a lid on the crate, then handed the crate to Help. "These should hopefully be adequate for Heartworm to safely subdue Keriss, at least for long enough to get to safety."
Help had been watching closely as the weapons were explained, but the last sentence made her meet Teknall's eyes. She asked a simple question. "You believe Heartworm will use these for their intended purpose?"
"If they are abused there will be retribution," Teknall said. He turned his gaze to the device on the rock. "Hear that, Heartworm? I have given you the tools to avoid a murder. If Keriss is slain or otherwise unduly harmed, then swarms of drones will be the least of your concern."
"...Noted, I'm sure." The device duly blinked. Help took a tranquiliser shell from the crate, handling it delicately. Under its metal shell, no doubt, was a pink and yellow liquid. "I'm sure you've modified this, but it may still burn her. Keriss is not a kind warrior." She looked at Teknall. "Do you consider yourself moral, God of Crafting?"
"I do," Teknall answered, then added, "At least, I try to be."
"You try." The crate fit easily under Help's arm, and she let her free hand rest. "You are also very reasonable. Very, very reasonable. I think you might have to choose between those two things, Teknall. What is moral is not always reasonable. And 'try' is not always enough."
"I'm aware." Teknall said grimly.
"You should be." Help broke his gaze without much care, looking down to the recorder. "I don't like Keriss. I hate her, actually. She and Tauga should not be aligned. She's a bloodthirsty warrior, and an atrocious mother. But she tries." She met his eyes again, sharply. "And she fails. She's never succeeded in making the world a better place. Maybe one day she'll learn. Yah Vuh- all of its emanations- will never learn. They'll never stop being evil. They weren't very evil to begin with, granted, but over millenia... it's enough."
She hefted the crate. "If you have no further requests, I believe we're done here." Then, because they clearly were not, but as if in passing, "Did you know that I've been training myself to take command of the Laboratory? I've been working at it a few decades now. My student and I, we'll manage just fine without our hidden master. Just a thought." She ground her foot into the dirt and a puff of dust rose.
"Just a thought," Teknall repeated, glancing down at where Help's foot had moved. Then he said, "I wish you well, Help."
Help bowed, waved. "And you." She picked up the device and took it with her in the free hand, walking away towards nothing at all. Her fingers were shaking slightly. She stopped and turned.
"There will be blood," said Help. "Make sure it counts."
And then she kept walking.
When Teknall was gone, and the few dozen wide-ranging disturbance scanners embedded in the dust of that plateau had confirmed he was gone, the Bludgeons orbiting in the shadow of Cogitare swept into view. They found Help miles distant from where she'd been, still walking. The crate had been heavy but Help was strong.
She turned over the box. A figure emerged from deep space. They exchanged no words as the crate was opened.
A blue-marked munitions cartridge was removed from the box. Heartworm's wrist inverted, and its fingertips clicked open the outer shell. A tiny device was removed and promptly powdered between the cloves of its hoof. Then it armed the shell and hurled it into the airless sky.
As described, it thought, once the fluid had ceased its motion and solidified on the dust. Potent.
"Help's tracking device," it said aloud. Help turned over her palm and Heartworm plucked another device from her shell, cruder but almost as small. "Help had time to modify it. Impressive."
"I had to try," she said. "It broadcasts our location to Teknall now, rather than the other way. I didn't get into close enough contact to pass it on."
"Help's killswitch would have activated," it remarked. "Come."
And Help, who had bypassed the monitor in her brain years ago, thought: Die.
Teknall tapped at the keyboard of the computer console. The drones were moving, but this time they were moving away from Mirus. He had gotten the information he wanted from Heartworm and was satisfied with its answers, so was desisting from his assault on the tunnels as requested. In the coming days he would reset the drones' firmware to purge the virus from the system, then let the drones loose to explore the Well Labyrinth under Galbar.
Besides, he didn't need the drones to locate Heartworm any more. Heartworm had found the tracker planted in the munitions; Teknall wasn't surprised, but it had been worth a shot. He had noticed the transmitter Help had smuggled on her person, but had been unable to discretely give it to him. But Help had left another clue. It had been microscopic in size, but that was no limitation to Teknall. A tiny bioengineered worm had burrowed a binary sequence into the moondust for Teknall to Perceive.
81.0N-26.9EATOLL-11500
Teknall leaned back in his chair and stretched his palms upwards. "Found you, Heartworm."
