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The End (again). The bleak sun inched above the horizon and a new day felt
its way to the complex. Above the corroded-bronze sky, Samarkand was gaining yet
another feature; a spreading orbital cloud of frozen gobbets of flesh, pieces of
bone and metal, dragon scales. Hubris, poised geostationary above the complex
watched this cloud spread with an aesthetic appreciation only available to AIs
with the full the spectrum of senses it possessed. With another fraction of its
sensorium it listened in on the departing mini-shuttle. "Now y' can tell us," said Blegg, then he chugged down a
large cup of whisky and grinned wickedly. With his own cup resting on his knee Cormac stared down
at the floor of the shuttle with the unseeing gaze of exhaustion. He was finding
it difficult to grasp that his plans had paid off. Eventually he spoke. "I guess it's a case of knowing who your enemies are. I
could be wrong. I hope not." Blegg looked at the bottom of his cup in annoyance, took
out his flask, shook it, then smiled benevolently. Cormac had never known anyone
like him. He probably knew exactly what had happened, yet he managed to appear
completely unconcerned. A strange man was Blegg. "That was cryptic," said Mika, referring to Cormac's
statement. Cormac nodded and held out his cup to Blegg. When it was filled he
went on. "Background first, as I heard it, and believe it to be.
Dragon did not lie when it said the Maker's kind made it. Our first estimation
was correct: Dragon was a galactic probe. The Makers sent it here to study,
record, return. Something went wrong though, Dragon acquired a degree of
self-determination it should not have. It allowed itself to be found by us,
started to interact. The Makers sent a ship to retrieve or destroy it. Dragon
attacked the ship, destroyed the ship. What we found here was an escape capsule."
He looked up. "It's not for us to attribute blame there. Dragon was looking
after itself. The Makers were after a rogue machine. All that is relevant to us
is the deaths here." He shrugged. "Dragon picked up on the position of this escape pod
through our grid. It sent its dracomen to prevent the Maker leaving Samarkand.
From that I can only assume that, like Hubris, Dragon cannot move very quickly
through underspace." He paused. Mika interjected, "They set the mycelium. The
dracomen." "Yes, we were distorting the facts by looking for
complications. Fact; the Maker left here long before the mycelium was set. Fact;
the mycelium was set shortly after the dracomen arrived. Fact; Dragon tried to
destroy any incriminating evidence on the planet. And as far as intentions are
concerned; the dracomen were made to handle the cold, yet the creature made to
guard the capsule was not. What does that suggest to you?" Mika said, "That the Maker had not expected any
temperature change, and that perhaps Dragon did..." "Precisely. The dracomen carried out the task they had
been programmed to do, then waited, as they were able to. I don't think Dragon
is the psychopath it claimed the Maker to be, but it certainly has no regard for
human life." "That thing still killed Gant, half frozen or not," said
Thorn. "Yes. It was there specifically to guard the escape
capsule from any of Dragon's agents. We were just in the wrong place at the
wrong time. I'm sorry about Gant. That's all I can say." "How much regard does this Maker have for human life,
then?" "It didn't kill you, when it could have. What if some
innocent had run into our automatic guns on Viridian? Same thing? I'm sorry, but
I was more concerned with the deaths of those thousands on Samarkand, rather
than the death of one trooper doing the job he was paid for." Thorn stared at Cormac for a moment then looked away. It
was a while before he said anything more, and when he did his voice was
strained. "How do you know all this for sure. And how the hell did
you deliver that CTD?" he asked. "More or less from the start I knew Dragon was culpable,
and that the only way to prove it was with contact with the Maker. Remember our
first encounter? It could have killed us all. It didn't. In fact, I was getting
something over my intercom that had to be an attempt at communication. Then the
dracomen attacked. That was what they were there for; to prevent any useful
communication, if they could, so we would do what Dragon wanted. Otherwise, they
were there to plant a mycelium at the runcibles on Viridian, to prevent the
Maker leaving, as before." He looked at Mika. "A lifetime of study, you said.
Just a little longer and you might have discovered that they carried the
mycelium inside themselves. That's why Dragon wanted its dracoman back so badly.
It didn't want us to discover that. It wasn't so omnipotent it didn't fear us.
Lucky for us that Maker grabbed the dracomen." "But if the Maker was innocent of–" Cormac held up his hand, and reclined his seat. "I'm going to get a little sleep now. We'll complete this
on the surface. I want to be a little fresher by the time we arrive." "You can at least tell us why..." Thorn trailed off.
Cormac was already asleep. An hour and a half later the shuttle came down on the
edge of the complex in a storm of CO2 crystals. Cormac woke as soon as it bumped
against the ground. "Ask Samarkand II how the stage two runcible's coming
along," Cormac asked Aiden. Aiden got up from his pilot's chair as if he had not
heard, but he had obviously asked the question using his internals, as Samarkand
II answered it over the speakers. "The stage two runcible is undergoing rough alignment.
This will take approximately fifteen minutes. I will fine tune it in one tenth
of a second." If ever an AI had been guilty of conceit, Samarkand II
was that one, thought Cormac. He moved to the door of the shuttle as a covered
walkway attached like a lamprey. He waited while the air in the walkway was
heated to a reasonable temperature. Without being asked to he continued his
monologue where he had left off. "The Maker took the two dracomen and deprogrammed them.
Just as Dragon did that first time it grabbed them. They were probes for Dragon.
The Maker used them in the same way. From them it learnt our method of
communication and somewhat of Dragon's plans. At about the same time, I decided
I would gull Dragon into thinking we killed the Maker, to give us time to learn
more, perhaps to communicate. Hence the idea of using the stage one runcible,
the closing off of information access to the containment spheres. How would
Dragon know what went through?" The door thumped open like the door to a fridge and they
entered the walkway. Soon they were passing the milling technicians by, and
Samarkand II's voice droned over the speakers. "Stage two runcible alignment test commencing... Test
complete. Still too far out for insertion of five-D cusp." The larger containment sphere of the stage two runcible
now rested under a large dome with floor-space all around. The open door to the
containment sphere was big enough for heavy transport sleds. Cormac recognised
the familiar figure of Chaline next to the door. He walked up to her and saw she
was directing the adjustment of machinery under the black glass floor, the same
kind of machinery as he had destroyed in the stage one runcible. Floor panels
were up and resting against the wall of the sphere. "Much longer?" he asked. She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then
relented. "A few minutes." She gestured at the work going on. "This
is only cosmetic. One more test and the spoon'll be in." Cormac left her to it and turned back to Blegg, Mika and
Thorn. They watched as esoteric adjustments were made and Samarkand II gave
notice of the next test. This time rainbows shimmered between the wide apart
horns of the runcible and climbed to the roof of the sphere. It was a beautiful
sight. Cormac remembered his first sight of this with the stage one runcible;
the tower of rainbows reaching into the sky. It still did not fail to impress
him. "Spoon's in. All yours, Samarkand II," said Chaline with
glee. Cormac said, "Samarkand II, inform Viridian that access
is now allowable from there." "Viridian has already been informed." "You mistake me, inform Viridian that Cormac says access
from there is now allowable." There was a pause, and when Samarkand II spoke again it
sounded as surprised as an AI could be. "Viridian tells me your message is affirmed...
Transmission coming through." Cormac began speaking to the three with him, knowing they
were growing impatient with the interruptions to his explanation. "When I went into the cave system I still wasn't sure how
I was going to pull off my ruse to fool Dragon. But I needn't have worried. The
Maker came for me..." At that moment the runcible flickered and Cento stepped
through. He had been rebuilt, partially. His missing arm had been replaced with
a bronze coloured one. He held it up and grinned triumphantly as he approached. "We
talked. We hatched a plan," said Cormac. "You see, the Maker's kind made Dragon,
so creatures like the dracomen were easy for it to deal with. In that cave
system only one CTD exploded. The Maker put the other one inside Nonscar, right
where it held the mycelium." He reached into his pocket and took out a small
sealed canister. "A tissue sample of organ is in this. I watched the Maker
remove it." He handed the canister to Mika. "Check it. I think you'll find the
Maker didn't lie. I don't need the proof." Mika took the canister gingerly and dropped it into her
own pocket. Blegg watched this exchange with a smug expression. Tangible proof:
Cormac knew what he was thinking, or at least he thought he did. He continued
speaking. "All that happened here, when we returned, was to deny
Dragon information so it would snatch back its dracoman, like it did before, but
also, to make it think we had followed up on our proposed plan but were then
entertaining suspicions. I think that if Dragon had known that we knew what had
really happened here, it would have run, after destroying Hubris and levelling
the complex. I wanted it concerned, but not panicking. I wanted it to take back
its dracoman, but without too much checking. It was all to get that CTD into
Dragon. It had to pay. We couldn't let that pass." "Transmission coming through. Energy anomalies..." The cusp of the runcible flared with light and the glass
dragon stepped through. There were screams of surprise, some screams of fear.
The dome seemed full of light. "There is no need for panic," said Samarkand II, and those
who had screamed felt a little foolish, perhaps. "Jesus!" was all Thorn managed. Mika said nothing. Her
first look of shock changed to one of almost lascivious fascination. "The runcible ... what went through?" asked Blegg. Cormac smiled tiredly. "I thought it was Scar, but I see I was wrong. It must
have thrown something else through." He pointed to the Maker as it came through on limbs of
fire, scanning the place it had arrived in with its three glass eyes. It seemed
to Cormac it should have dwelt in that tower of rainbows he had seen. It seemed
wholly mythical. The blackly silhouetted dracoman walked before it, like a
slave, or its tamer. Cormac continued. "The idea was for the Maker to head for the containment
sphere and for something to come through. Dragon would believe it to be the
Maker that came through. It would have been very happy at first, then suspicious
when we didn't contact it. It was all manipulation." Soon the Maker was before them, and now they could see
the workings of its body like a glassy display of flasks and tubes in a
chemistry laboratory. It spoke, and its voice seemed to draw sound from every
direction and precipitate it out in gusting words. "Cormac," it said, and its terrifying head bowed down to
look at him, then at the others. "I thought you were going to use Scar for the blast," said
Cormac. The voice came again, its elements seemingly drawn from
the people who were gathering round, to watch, gawp. One brave soul reached out
to touch, then snatched his had back before it was burnt, or before he touched
something ineffable. "Scar is an advantage," said the Maker. "Only one quarter
of Dragon died here." Staring into light Cormac suddenly felt even more tired.
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