Darren Wearmouth - The Critical Trilogy Box Set

“So what is it?”

“Place the prism on the table here and we’ll get started.” She pressed a button on a small control pad Denver hadn’t previously noticed attached to her forearm. A glass surface the size of a regular coffee table floated down from the ceiling and hovered half a meter off the floor just in front of him.

Following Doslin’s instructions, Denver leaned forward and placed the miniature scion artifact onto the table’s surface. It whirred and the cone lifted up. In a repeat of what he saw in the vault, the cone flipped back and a holographic image appeared above the prism.

He recognized the construction. “Drone 451?” Denver asked.

“You remembered,” the scion handler said as a statement. “That’s an encouraging start.”

“To what?”

Doslin stepped away into the shadows of the room as the lights dimmed. Drone 451’s light-blue holographic display glowed brighter in the gloom. When Denver turned away to look at Doslin again, he couldn’t see her, though he heard no door open and detected no movement of air.

Impressive, he thought. He could see why she was an agent.

Sure it was a shade darker in the room, but not that dark. Not to his trained eyes anyway.

“To your new role, Denver Jackson. You’ve been assigned agent status, code number 6001. We’ve analyzed your algorithm, and it interests us greatly.”

“Whoa, wait a minute there, buddy, agent status? Algorithms? What are you talking about?”

“A simple deal. Your help on a short-term mission for the future safety of your planet.”

Denver sighed and leaned forward. “You’re starting to sound like Vingo. What is it with you aliens and your deals? Sure, you gave us air and a safe place to sleep, but now you want what exactly?”

“Your algorithm dictates much progress in our aims. We would rather cooperate with you for mutual benefit than increase the odds that our progress will be delayed. The war with the croatoans is a complex affair and has already put us back an estimated fifty thousand Earth years. A minor issue in the grand scheme, but the Order of Things has sent you to us, and by our calculations, you’ll help us to our goals significantly quicker than without.”

Denver sat back and thought about what this being was saying. They obviously wanted him badly, which gave him some bargaining power… depending on what they wanted him to do.

“Listen, are you familiar with our term ‘put all the cards on the table’?”

The drone flickered briefly before affirming.

“Then let’s do that right now, shall we? I appreciate your other drones not killing me, I really do, and I appreciate you guys bringing us back here and attempting to rebuild the gate, but I know so little about you and your kind. Who are you, for example? Do you have a consciousness? Are you an individual or just a software program?”

“Would it matter to our negotiations whether I have a consciousness or not?” it replied.

“I suppose not, but you’re not exactly being forthcoming with details here. Tell me what you are, what you and your kind want, and what your plans are for me. You mentioned the Order of Things… what is that and how does it factor into my working with you as an agent?”

“Unlike many, you ask the right questions,” Drone 451 replied. The holographic image changed to a flat screen. On the screen a stream of code flowed too fast for Denver to understand or recognize any individual characters. “This is the Order of Things as it stands now. It is much changed since you arrived on Tredeya. It is the underlying programmatic expression of the chaos that exists in all things. Our intelligences mine it for information, seeking patterns. We build algorithms to fix complex programs and compute outcomes.”

“That’s… interesting, I suppose, but I’ve never really used computers, so excuse me if I’m not blown away. Are you suggesting you guys can tell the future?”

“No,” the drone said. “We can infer from it. And that’s where you come in. One of our algorithmists saw your pattern in the Order of Things and we knew that you would be important to us regarding one of our long-running missions.”

Denver cocked his head as the screen changed to show a small blue planet surrounded by darkness and a single sun. There were no other planets or moons on the image and so few stars that he couldn’t make out any recognizable constellations, which told him it could only be one thing. “That’s not Earth, is it, even though it looks like it at first glance?”

“You’re correct, although you could look upon it as the first Earth.”

“First… you’re saying there’s multiple Earths?”

“Of a kind, yes. Humans currently inhabit three hundred and fifty-nine planets with similar properties to the first Earth. Yours is classified as number ninety-seven.”

“Okay, that’s… kind of mind-bending, but then I suppose everything is at the moment. I’ll be sure to process this all at some point. So what’s special about this first Earth, and where do I come in?”

“You’re going to find it for us,” Drone 451 said.

“Oh, am I?” Denver wanted to laugh at first. The absurdity of this whole scenario suddenly hit him in the chest. “Is this like some kind of weird test? You know I’m just a guy from Earth ninety-seven, right? I know nothing of the galaxy. I think you lot would be better suited to find this planet than me.”

“But you’re human,” the drone responded as though that answered everything. “For the mission we have in mind, we need you. Doslin, please provide Agent 6001 with the printed mission brief.”

The holographic display shut down. The cone clasped down onto the prism and the room’s lights slowly came back up to their previous illumination. Denver felt as if he had just awoken from a dream.

Doslin appeared by his side. He hadn’t even seen or sensed her move. She held out a folded piece of white card. “Your mission brief. You’re to press your thumb against the box to accept.”

“You all seem so sure that I will just go along with this madness.”

Doslin gave him the slightest smile. “The scion are… persuasive. Now please, read the brief. Then we can return to your father and Layla. There is still much to discuss before the gate is fully operational.”

Denver took the card and sat back in the sofa. He realized he was smiling, still thinking all this was some weird elaborate game, but when he opened the card and started to read, his smile dropped and he leaned forward. The card shook slightly in his grip. He twisted his head to stare up at Doslin. “This isn’t bullshit, is it?”

“The scion might be many things, but when they offer agent status, bullshit is not in their mode of operation. I can assure you of that.”

“Right,” Denver said, turning back to the briefing. He paused for a second, his thumb hovering over the small chip embedded into the card. And then he pressed his thumb down. A small tickle of electricity excited his skin.

Doslin took the mission briefing from him and held out her hand.

“Welcome to the scion, Agent 6001.”

CHARLIE PEERED through the glass of the observation room. A large scion prism had floated to the surface and stopped over a flat strip of land. A ramp dropped from its underside.

Hundreds of tredeyans and croatoans were being escorted aboard by a row of hovering jet-black mechs. He felt little sympathy after his experiences with both species. At least they probably weren’t being turned into trays of silver slop.

Scion fighters still patrolled the sky, although they only made sweeping runs around the ship and none fired during the time Charlie observed their movements.