Traveler in the Dark

14

Issk'ath had returned to the nest. What it needed for travel had not been in its original build. But Issk'ath knew what it required was inside the eroding chambers. It skittered down the ramps into the deepest chambers, back through its memory to the place where it had been constructed. The nest's lower levels were damp. The water table had risen without the colony's constant use, and corrosion had made brittle, ruddy lace of the still machinery that had made the colony what it was. No light reached this place, except for the golden glow that streaked over Iss'kath's chassis in slim threads and defined its optical sensors. Issk'ath did not need light to avoid the fallen debris or the long abandoned warrens of small animals that had sought shelter in the abandoned tunnels. It had other senses. Many. And unfailing memories of the nest. Not only its own memories, but those of the colony collected within. Everything was too familiar, too known. Iterated.

But there was something novel, an unfamiliar sensation that waited for Issk'ath down in the dark. It wanted. For the first time, it craved something. It was not a directive, it was not a programmed impulse embedded from the outside. It yearned for something wholly for its own sake, not the colony's. Not the planet's. Just for itself, just for Issk'ath.

The entrance to the industrial chambers had collapsed, the way forward blocked by dirt and stone. Issk'ath was not built for heavy lifting. It would have to retreat and find one of the colony's diggers. It scanned the crumbling metal figures around it and calculated the chance of finding one that needed only minor repair. It picked its way back toward the ramp, its angular head swiveling as it scanned the dark, seeking aid many seasons too late.

Issk'ath's tympana vibrated. Falling rock, scrabbling. Another animal perhaps. Issk'ath ignored it until a different noise reached it. An animal call. But not familiar. It came again, different this time, the tones pulsing in different sequences. The sound came from above. Something was in the nest. Something new. Issk'ath abandoned the silent diggers in favor of waiting to see if the creature would come closer. It remained still, unwilling to frighten it away.

More sounds, another animal, but the same patterns. They began to recede, rhythmic thumps vibrating off the dirt. Small, light. Was it a Takesh? Issk'ath had learned about the Takesh. About the war. But the last of them had expired long before Issk'ath was built. Had they returned? Did that mean the colony would someday come back? It crept up the base of the ramp, pausing at the entrance of each tunnel, waiting for some pulse to strike its tympana. Not in the Queen's chambers. Nor the hatchery or larder. Issk'ath passed the Grand Gallery and the armory. It paused at the nursery, waiting. It could not feel the vibrations, but the animals could have moved too far into the interior. It hovered, undecided.

The directive was to protect the colony. The colony was not the nest. What did Issk'ath care if something burrowed into the empty corridors or stole what remained? The colony would never use it again. And the animals might be dangerous. They might attack Issk'ath if they were cornered. It was not fragile, but the colony thrummed inside it. All the memories held in its chassis. Damage would not be optimal. It didn't need anything in the nursery. The animals could take what they wanted and never even know it was there. They would not find what Issk'ath needed, it was buried deep under the rubble of the industrial chambers. It passed swiftly up the ramp, intending to depart the nest until silence returned. But at the top, where the world tumbled into the emptiness of sky, it found a curious thing. A thing of worked metal. A thing that spoke. The same song, over and over, but subtle, underneath the other sounds. Issk'ath circled it warily. This was not animal. It was not even familiar from the stories of the Takesh. It was close to the things the colony had made. Complex and requiring refinement of rare resources. Was it a trap? A toy? Issk'ath shook the question off. What it was seemed unimportant. Who had made it was the real issue. Had Issk'ath missed something? Someone? Did one of the people remain? Or was it simply scavenged from a distant nest? Had the animal stolen it and accidentally activated it? The need to discover what had entered the nest outweighed the risk. The metal thing was costly. They would return for it eventually and Issk'ath had time. It settled down beside the metal thing to wait.