The Starlight Lancer

Chapter 121: Gizmo's Home

"This new contract to create three glyph factories on our world's surface will bring in revenue for centuries. A new, prosperous era of Ganthelia is upon us, and industry is the light carving our path through the darkness."

—Former Ganthelian Prime Minister Azu Ceea in a speech

The ship's door opened to a cloud of dense fog. Zaina, warned ahead of time by Baeus of Ganthelia's unlivable conditions, already had her mask on. The display on the interior was recalibrating to the new environment, combining heat signatures, radioactive decay, and sensory data to create a clearer picture of Zaina's surroundings. In her arms she cradled Gizmo, who was still turned off.

Baeus floated next to her, his bed-pod closed with a glass covering. "Foreboding, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she said, unable to make anything out of the haze. They had landed on a platform near one of the glyph factories—that much, she knew. "Can't see shit yet."

Finally, her mask's recalibration finished—not that it made much difference, illuminating little more than dim blurs of distant shadows.

"According to the map," Baeus said, referencing a holo-screen of a map projecting inside his bed-pod, "we should only be a few hundred feet from our destination. Looks like that way's east—that's the way we need to go."

"That map tell you anything about the terrain?" she asked.

"No, so let's proceed with caution."

Zaina nodded and took up the van, having slightly better visibility. Nothing was coming into view but rocks and dirt, much less a factory.

"That's odd," Baeus said. "The map registers us as going the wrong way. Let's double back."

"What?" she asked. "Having trouble reading that thing?"

Baeus blinked, unamused. "No, but Ganthelia is known for its magnetic storms. Probably just scrambling our sensors a bit. Shouldn't be a problem."

Zaina made her way back, leading her companion on the path. "Hey, is the factory we're going to still active?"

"Yes," he replied. "Last one on Ganthelia still pumping, from what I know. Not that they're making Gizmo's model anymore, of course—they're making the new MRVs."

"How is it working without any people?"

Baeus frowned. "I assume they've got a glyph workforce. Not too uncommon in the midworlds. Especially in Ganthelia's case, after it became uninhabitable—whatever corporation had the factory contracts probably figured that they could keep operations running even if the sentient population had to evacuate."

"That's terrible," Zaina muttered to herself. Demelia was destroyed by the Eldritch—but Ganthelia was voluntarily destroyed to make glyphs. She couldn't imagine giving up her homeworld by choice.

"It's not easy for a lot of worlds," Baeus replied. "Ganthelia wasn't particularly blessed in any department. To keep the lights on, their government had to make hard choices."

"Well, the lights aren't on now."

"That's true," he conceded. "They traded their long term future for a short term solution. Though I suppose every effort to make anything last forever is futile."

"Yeah, I guess," she said as a large, dark object came into view. She reached out and touched it—the surface was sleek and cold to the touch. It was metal. "Here's something."

"You think this is it?"

"Might be. Now we need to find the entrance," she said.

"The map says the entrance is on the north-facing wall," Baeus replied, "but I'm not sure we want to rely on it to navigate. So, we have two options: walk around until we find the entrance, or we go up."