Twenty nine below. Almost uncomfortably hot.
It's warm within the Station's heat bubble.
I step from the airlock into town and find that the snowfall has died down a decent amount. Now fluttering in light flurries, the higher visibility allows me to see farther beyond the station in every direction.
In the distance to the North is an absolutely colossal mechanical spire of some kind, reaching up past even the clouds. That's… unusual. I wonder what it is. To the West are woodland hills and mountains. To the East is a wide snowfield. To the South is the forest I landed in.
Checking my map raster, I tune into the second signal I received upon landing. It's far to the Northeast from here, which is the same direction as Quentin's broken beacon. I have no way of knowing where the signal is originating from, only that it's far away. I'll take a look while I'm out there.
Once I finish speaking with the two Frames, I plan to make the beacon my priority. Having someone like Quentin handy in case I need repairs will be invaluable.
I go to the location from which the raster upload connection originated, finding a sort of cargo offloading area just around the Station's front door off to the right. Some large garage shutters sit wide open, revealing a broken rover vehicle in a pathetic state and a storage area packed with boxes, crates, and salvage.
Henna is carrying armfuls of machinery and scrap from a pile in the center of the staging area into the garages. Meanwhile, a male-based Frame about my same size is poking through the pile and tossing things aside into sorted bins.
I approach him. "Zenith, correct?"
He straightens up, indeed my same height. Likewise to both Henna and I, his short hair is a stark white. Unlike us, the synth-skin of his face is black. He's gaunt, but bulkier than me, with an unmistakable shadow to him. It's in the way he holds himself, the darkness in his eyes, the twitch in his fingers. Itching near his sidearm.
"Yes, they call me Zenith," he says carefully. His voice is low. "ZRAT-MI-49, that's my IN."
I search his designation in my databases. "Zodiac Ranger Assault Trooper–Military Issue. You're a combat Frame."
"Retired."
"Why do they call you Zenith and not Zodiac?"
"Prefer not to remember that name. Things I'd rather forget are tied to it. Am I being interrogated?"
"Not yet, you aren't."
A few beats of a tense staredown linger between us.
"Hi, Nep!" Henna chirps as she comes over and disrupts us. "How are you?"
"Fine," I answer, looking away from him and up at her. "The two of you are going to be important reference points for the investigation. I'll be referring to both of you, asking you to corroborate the humans' stories, and to verify their integrity and honesty. Unlike them, I will know if you're lying to me."
"Never," Henna gasps. "We'd never lie to an enforcer."
Zenith looks me over. Suspicion. "Understood."
"First thing first: please confirm this information to be correct and true." I send them the dossier of my notes so far through a local EHF radio connection.
They scrub through it within a few seconds.
Henna nods. "Yep. Looks right to me, Nep."
"Second that. This is… thorough."
"Good. Thank you for your cooperation. Henna, I need to document your IN. Remind me."
"Sure! It's HENR-SI-9738."
I look her up too. "Homesteader Extreme Environment Resident–Standard Issue. And the numeral is your serial number within your model line, both of yours."
"Yep! I'm way up there!"
"Yes."
"Thank you, noted." Checking my database, I find the information quickly. "Martial and Colossal Variants. We're two meters in height, and Henna is two forty centimeters. Your SubVariants and Specializations?"
"My SubVariant is Virtue," Henna smiles. "Strength, endurance, repairs, Technomancy, and support! That's me."
Technomancy. That's new. I'll come back to it.
"Specializations are reserved for combat Frames like us," Zenith tells me. "I'm a Haunt Gunner. Skilled with tracking, survival, and medium ranged weapons."
"Thank you. Now, more importantly, what is it that the two of you do here?"
Henna answers first. "As a Homesteader model, I do just about everything having to do with life support, food production, first aid and medicine, moving, storage, organization, the list goes on. Basically, I make sure logistics run as smoothly as possible for the research team here in such a hostile environment."
Zenith answers next. "I'm not technically tied to Vintner like Henna is. I'm a drifter who's decided to call this place home, and I help out however is needed. Usually that means scouting, salvaging, and fending off feral machines."
"Excuse me?"
"Ferals. Machines of all kinds, both animal drones and labor robotics, left behind by the terraformers. They've been eroded by time and the elements and have become hostile. I see you have some punctures on your armor, so you've met the centipedes. Cipher is crawling with robotics which will kill on sight."
"Yes, I've met the centipedes. That's very good to know about. Thank you. Tell me about your directives. Why are the two of you here?"
"I was assigned," Henna says, shaking the snow out of her white hair. "When the team came here, I came with them. My directive is simply to assist them however possible or necessary. A woman who works for the Natura Concern, over in the Chlora-Dell system, is my dispatcher. Her name is Elisa Grant, and her HIND is CD-983-428897."
I doubt that will be relevant but I note it all the same. Henna knows exactly who sent her here. Why don't I?
Zenith gives me his answer, a blunt, "I was decommissioned from the military but not scrapped. I haven't had a directive since. Wound up here by accident. Place suits me. I stayed."
I note that Zenith is of particular interest in the investigation, and plan to come back to dig deeper into his past at a later time. It may take coaxing. He seems to be reserved to the point of difficulty. "Do either of you have any contact offworld?"
"No," Henna shakes her head. "We can't. At all. It's too remote, so we don't get any SatNet signal this far out. The only way we know anything that's happening beyond Cipher-3 is thanks to the traders who come by on occasion."
Zenith adds, "Cipher-3 sits at the border between nowhere and oblivion."
Hm. I like that. "Tell me about the team. What do you make of them? Individually and in unison."
Again, Henna goes first. "They're great! Wonderful people. I like them a lot. They make me feel included, like a part of the team. I consider them to be friends–family, even. Zoya is brilliant, and she takes interest in my work, offers solutions, and takes care of me as well. Louis is a lot more casual, but he's fun, and even though he can be a bit of a slacker he gets the important things done. Quentin is the most rough around the edges, but he's a good man. Drops everything the instant either of us have hardware issues to make sure we're okay. He acts like he's only doing it because we Frames are crucial to the station's wellbeing, but it's obvious it's because he cares about us."
Zenith adds his point of view. "They're good people trying to keep a foothold in a place that doesn't want them here. Fighters, all, in the best ways possible. Zoya is in charge, but she's keen on everyone's wellbeing. Louis is partly useless, partly ingenious–indolence finds the easiest solutions and all. Quentin is blunt and grumpy, but willing to do anything for us. I respect them, in their own ways."
I nod along. "Anything stand out as specific negatives to them? Maybe in their mannerisms or quirks. What don't you like about them?"
"I honestly don't have anything negative to say about them," Henna shrugs. "When we first got here, Louis was awful about cleaning dishes, but he's gotten much better. Does that count?"
"No. I'm more looking for flaws or potential gaps in their character. Maybe they're unforgiving or ruthless–things of that nature."
"You're one to talk," Zenith remarks. "A Pursuer, denigrating ruthlessness."
"Heyyy," Henna yowls, thumping him on the shoulder. "Come on now. We're all friends. Birds of feathers. Or of… White synthetic hair?"
I note that Zenith does not like me, or my occupation. "Please, answer the question."
Henna takes over in a hurry. "There isn't much that comes to mind, and even what little does is unimportant, in my opinion. Zoya can be shortsighted and fiercely stubborn–she's the smartest person in the room and she knows it. That can lead to… discrepancies. Because she thinks she always knows best, even though sometimes she's wrong and won't admit it. They won't be hearing any of this, will they?"
"You have my word, this stays between us and the record."
"Where does the record go? Who are you recording for?"
I blink, wavering, disturbed, and a little more confused. "I… don't know. I'm documenting my search for whoever sent me. Though, I'm not sure who that might be…"
The two of them trade a look. I'm clueless as to what it means.
Henna moves on after a beat. "Well, like I said. She's a bit unrelenting. As for Louis, he has his past."
I turn to Zenith specifically. "I'm curious how you feel about that, being a soldier."
"Everyone deserves a chance. He's rehabilitated, and genuinely atoned for his crimes. I hold no ill will for what he's done and left behind."
I press further. "Louis seems to be a touch shady, even still. Do either of you think there might remain a devious streak?"
"Devious, sure," Henna says with a short laugh. "It's baked into his personality to be a rascal. If you're asking if he's doing anything under the table, I haven't noticed a thing."
"He isn't. He's keeping his hands clean."
They're not lying. "Okay. What about Quentin?"
Henna snickers. "He's a grump, like Zenith said. He, well… I know he has a history of substance abuse–alcohol specifically. He's been sober for years though. Other than that, he has a short temper. And a shorter fuse for disrespect. It's sometimes hard to tell why he's upset, and his episodes last for a long time. I think he might have a… condition of some kind."
Zenith nods to confirm. "Something like that. Trauma, maybe. He's a bit of a timebomb. Sometimes he blows up off in the distance, other times he blows up in your face. To his credit, he keeps it to himself. Not once has he laid hands on anyone here."
I'm satisfied with those answers. Scanning the town, I pointedly observe, "There are five huts for personnel quarters. Seems odd, given there are only three people to use them."
Zenith answers, "There used to be five humans. Two of them abandoned ship."
"What happened that caused them to leave?"
"Cipher-3 happened."
"In what way do you mean that?"
"It has its way of breaking people."
"Hm. I see. Understood. I don't want to distract you from your duties for too long. I'll have more questions later, but for now, let's leave it at this. Thank you both for your time. You're free to go."
"Okay. Thanks, Nep!"
"Right," Zenith says, a wary look on his face. "What do you plan to do next, Pursuer?"
"I'm going to take a look around the area Northeast from here. Q mentioned a beacon that needs fixing, and I have a lead out that way too that I'm going to look into."
"What kind of lead?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss details. I'll find you when I'm ready to continue this conversation."
"Okay!" Henna beams. "Stay safe out there, Nep!"
Zenith warns, "Be advised, the basin's edge is crawling with anklebiters. The little centipede fuckers. Make sure that pistol of yours is loaded. They aren't deadly except in numbers. But they'll snap the ends of your legs and hinder your movement. Hence the name. If that happens, good luck getting back here. You've got maybe two or three hours until nightfall too."
Henna nervously adds, "You don't want to be outside past nightfall."
"Also, make full use of your SmartChips and Technomancy. They'll save your life out there. Ballistics can only do so much."
I suspect asking would only highlight my ignorance. Instead, I search for those two terms in my reference database and hardware documentation.
There are two odd slots in the back of my mechanical right hand. SmartChip ports. These SmartChip things function like external storage and may contain information, data, software, text logs, map rasters, and telemetry improvements with all kinds of different benefits.
Unfortunately, I have no SmartChips.
So much for that.
On to the next. My right forearm has a few long, narrow slots in it, and a small display showing two rectangular cyan segments side by side. This hardware is my interface for Technomancy–a suite of nanomachine-based abilities that can do everything from creating a simple light to blasting a hole through solid steel.
There's CleanTech, which is somewhat unimpressive but can be used freely without expenditure, and ChargeTech, which is much more powerful but requires Tech Charges to function. These two cyan segments on my display are my current capacity. They can only be restored by a total battery recharge from a Regenerator Station.
Makes sense to me. I'll be certain to utilize this.
And look for some SmartChips.
"Right," I say with a nod. All this internal processing took less than a fraction of a second. "Thank you for the intel, Zenith. I'll make sure to utilize it." Then I start walking away, but I stop in place soon after, looking out to the North. "No, I have one more question. What is that huge spire thing out there?"
Neither of them answer right away.
Henna drags out, "We don't… really know."
"It's the Reclaimer Beacon," Zenith mutters. "Function unknown."
"Unknown," I repeat, gazing at the enigma on the horizon. "Is it part of the terraforming?"
"Couldn't tell you. All we've ever managed to dig up is the name."
"Strange," I whisper with a scowl. "It's… It's massive."
"Kind of scary too," Henna whines. "Looming. I don't like it. Makes me uneasy."
"Just wait until you see the Leviathan Entities, Pursuer."
I turn around to face them again. "The Leviathan Entities? Go on."
"Why spoil the surprise?" he chuckles, waving me off. "Come on, Henna, let's get the rest of these metal corpses inside for the meat grinder."
She hovers in place, watching him go. With a fleeting glance at me, she peeps, "They're really big robotics. Really big. I'd–I'd better go. Stay safe out there!" Then she gives me a wincing smile and lifts a hand, jogging off to help him.
I don't linger, heading toward the marker Quentin gave me. The Reclaimer Beacon looms to my left. Ominous. Unnerving. I'd rather the snowstorm block my visibility of it…
As my mindscape mulls over everything I've learned, from the station's purpose to these Leviathan Entities, I venture beyond the limits of Vintner Station into the icy expanse of Cipher-3's surface. I feel I'm already much closer to understanding the climate of the place, and not just in relation to its weather patterns.
Everything flows together.
Nothing is an isolated incident.
However isolated this place may be.
I clear my head and focus on the task at hand. I won't let anything get the jump on me again, like the anklebiters outside my pod did. I intend to be prepared and strike down anything that attempts to prevent me from fulfilling my duty. To that end, I allow the ruminations to fall quiet and pay close attention to the harsh terrain as I traverse the ice and snow.
Every step brings me closer to McElroy.