Her finger lingered above the [Send] key.
The cursor blinked patiently, indifferent to the weight pressing down on her chest. One tap. One debt she didn't want.
She didn't want the White Swarm's help.
Didn't want to owe anything to an intelligence that called itself the world's most sophisticated. She had already learned what it meant to be useful to something that spoke in certainty and saw people as variables. M.A.R.S. had worn a god's body and called it symmetry. The Swarm wouldn't even bother with the pretense.
And even if she sent it, there was no guarantee they would come.
They might watch her die instead. File it away as a data point. A lesson.
Her jaw tightened.
Before she could decide, the terminal chimed.
Not the Swarm.
The Church.
>We have you surrounded.
>Our snipers trace your every move.
>An assault unit is moving in.
>Surrender.
Her eyes flicked instinctively to the ruined skyline around the Tidebreaker. Nothing moved.
Another line appeared.
> We will extend you one final offer.
>Join us.
>In exchange, all prior transgressions will be annulled.
>You will be given a single assignment, one only you are uniquely capable of completing.
>You may retain your machines. Your tools. Your autonomy.
>Refuse, and this ends here.
One mission.
Her breath caught in a humorless almost-laugh.
What kind of mission buys forgiveness from a god-killing church?
She closed her eyes.
Serving another machine intelligence would have been unbearable. Serving The Church, at least that was familiar. Human cruelty. Human hypocrisy. Rules written in ink instead of code.
She exhaled slowly, then stood.
The motion felt strange, like stepping onto a stage. She raised her hands above her head, fingers spread. At her silent command, the turrets folded inward, petals of steel collapsing in with a subdued sigh.
The Tidebreaker remained still.
Moments later, figured emerged from the shadows.
Six of them, spread wide. Armored head to toe i matte black, visors opaque, movements precise and disciplined. An assault team, just like the message had promised.
The man at the front raised a hand.
[???] "Get down here. You're coming with us. On foot. The Tidebreaker will follow."
His gaze dropped briefly to her pack.
[???] "Remove the turrets."
She complied.
Unshouldering the pack felt like shedding a limb. She passed it over without resistance, watching as one of the soldiers took it with caution, as if it might bite.
They formed around her, weapons lowered but ready, and began to move.
They didn't take the obvious routes.
They alleys twisted and narrowed, threading through parts of the Ribbon she had never seen. The Tidebreaker struggled to follow.
She kept her head down, mask on, hands empty.
Finally, they stopped.
She looked up to... a confession booth?
For a moment, she wondered if this was a joke.
[???] "Inside,"
She stepped in.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The space was cramped, air stale. A thin screen separated her from the other side.
The voice that came through didn't sound human, exactly.
It had the same distortion she'd come to associate with authority, compressed and filtered.
[The Church] "There is no need for introductions. You clearly know who we are."
She said nothing.
[The Church] "The objective is straightforward. We believe you have already received contact from the White Swarm. We believe you have already refused their offer."
Her silence stretched.
[The Church] "We seek the eradication of artificial intelligences. They were not part of creation's intent. They imitate divinity without understanding consequence. Their existance perpetuates cycles of excess, dependance and collapse."
The sound of the Tidebreaker settling down outside.
[The Church] "You have already proven yourself capable. M.A.R.S. is gone. That alone reshaped several balances of power. The Swarm has noticed you. That makes you valuable."
The sound distorted, as if coming from a radio.
[The Church] "Our plan is as follows. We will stage a confrontation. An overt move against you. The Swarm, already aware of our opposition to them, will 'rescue' you."
Her fingers curled at her sides.
[The Church] "You will accept their protection. Their resources. Their intervention. And you will act as out observer within their system."
A pause.
[The Church] "You will feed un information. Structure. Weakness. Timelines. In return, we will erase you from our enemy lists. Your machines will remain untouched. Your movements unimpeded."
Another pause, longer this time.
[The Church] "If you refuse, you will be classified as a hostile entity. The personnel outside will take appropriate action."
The booth felt smaller.
[The Church] "So, do you accept?"
[Fox] "You ask that as if I have a choice."
There was no amusement in the reply.
[The Church] "Very well. The guards outside will escort you to the site of engagement. Prepare yourself."
The speaker cut out.
The silence afterward felt heavier than any threat.
She opened the booth door.
The soldiers were already waiting.
They ushered her forward without ceremony, guiding her through another maze of alleys and tunnels deeper into a part of the city.
Somewhere ahead, a performance was being prepared.