knew,” the elegant Capek explained.
We had moved to another portion of the gardens closer to the center and shielded by trees and other vegetation, which offered us a greater sense of privacy. One of the strange things about Capek existence was the lack of a need to sit. Being able to lock our joints and painlessly hover on automated thruster arrays removed the need for rest. Although this was normal for Capeks, it was still damn hard to get used to.
“I tried to contact Yggdrassil but couldn’t establish a link,” Aurvandil continued. “For anyone familiar with how a Gaia-class Capek is structured, there are very few possibilities to explain a complete breakdown in communications. I was looking at going there myself but remembered our friend Skinfaxi here was on a return trip from Midgard, so I waited to see you for confirmation of my fears. I won’t lie, brother. Your delay worried me greatly.”
“What we haven’t told you is that we think we may know who is responsible for the attack,” I said.
“Oh?”
Koalemos’s shards recoiled slightly, one of them rocking back and forth.
“Koalemos here was the one who sent the meteor through the wormhole using the Spear of Athena, but he was given the coordinates from an outside source. I believe he was tricked.”
“That’s a bold claim, last son of Yggdrassil,” the elegant Capek answered, his “eyes” focused on me.
“I identify more as a female . . .” I said, sheepishly.
“Mmmh . . . An artifact of your time in the Nursery. It doesn’t matter. Brother or sister, we are kin.”
“We were attacked while at the Spear of Athena,” said Skinfaxi. “It was Anhur. I don’t know if you’re familiar with him.”
“A large Lucretius, if I recall. Isian dynasty. Spawned about six years ago.”
“Yes. Heavily armed. He laid waste to the Spear and then went after us. Koalemos here sacrificed one of his shards to allow us to es cap e.”
“Yet he still functions?” Aurvandil asked, bending over to get a closer look at the little Von Neumann.
“I fixed him. Temporarily,” I explained. “We have to bring him back to Hera for further repairs.”
“Yes. . . He’s there but not quite, is he?” The tall Capek gave a gentle push to one of Koalemos’s shards, sending it floating for a few moments before it regained its orientation and flew back into the formation. I couldn’t help but find the gesture rude, but what did I know of Capek culture?
“We leave as soon as possible, but we needed to warn the City,” Faxi continued. “I don’t know what this attack means— if Anhur has simply lost his mind, or if all the Lucretiuses are involved—but I figured if anyone could put the pieces together, it’d be you, brother.”
“You honor me with too much credit. The news of Yggdrassil’s destruction will not be taken lightly. I don’t expect mass panic, but there is reason to fear that this is not an isolated attack.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, a wave of worry washing over me.
“Gaia-class Capeks are the only ones capable of truly creating weapons of war on the galactic scale. Sure, some Von Neumanns can assemble fairly terrifying engines of destruction should they put their minds to it, but none can match the sheer volume and scale of a progenitor fabrication facility. If I were to mount a military campaign against us, I would begin by taking out the Gaias.”
It made an awful lot of sense in a horrifying sort of way. This was a side of Capek civilization I had not expected to see—a cold and unfeeling approach to problem solving that allowed them to look at their military capabilities with a pragmatic and efficient mind. If, as Skinfaxi had mentioned, very few Capeks had weapons, then destroying Yggdrassil and others with manufacturing capabilities would leave us all helpless.
I looked at Aurvandil, a tall and beautiful artificial entity. More piece of art than tool, his body didn’t seem to have the obvious tailored uses
We had moved to another portion of the gardens closer to the center and shielded by trees and other vegetation, which offered us a greater sense of privacy. One of the strange things about Capek existence was the lack of a need to sit. Being able to lock our joints and painlessly hover on automated thruster arrays removed the need for rest. Although this was normal for Capeks, it was still damn hard to get used to.
“I tried to contact Yggdrassil but couldn’t establish a link,” Aurvandil continued. “For anyone familiar with how a Gaia-class Capek is structured, there are very few possibilities to explain a complete breakdown in communications. I was looking at going there myself but remembered our friend Skinfaxi here was on a return trip from Midgard, so I waited to see you for confirmation of my fears. I won’t lie, brother. Your delay worried me greatly.”
“What we haven’t told you is that we think we may know who is responsible for the attack,” I said.
“Oh?”
Koalemos’s shards recoiled slightly, one of them rocking back and forth.
“Koalemos here was the one who sent the meteor through the wormhole using the Spear of Athena, but he was given the coordinates from an outside source. I believe he was tricked.”
“That’s a bold claim, last son of Yggdrassil,” the elegant Capek answered, his “eyes” focused on me.
“I identify more as a female . . .” I said, sheepishly.
“Mmmh . . . An artifact of your time in the Nursery. It doesn’t matter. Brother or sister, we are kin.”
“We were attacked while at the Spear of Athena,” said Skinfaxi. “It was Anhur. I don’t know if you’re familiar with him.”
“A large Lucretius, if I recall. Isian dynasty. Spawned about six years ago.”
“Yes. Heavily armed. He laid waste to the Spear and then went after us. Koalemos here sacrificed one of his shards to allow us to es cap e.”
“Yet he still functions?” Aurvandil asked, bending over to get a closer look at the little Von Neumann.
“I fixed him. Temporarily,” I explained. “We have to bring him back to Hera for further repairs.”
“Yes. . . He’s there but not quite, is he?” The tall Capek gave a gentle push to one of Koalemos’s shards, sending it floating for a few moments before it regained its orientation and flew back into the formation. I couldn’t help but find the gesture rude, but what did I know of Capek culture?
“We leave as soon as possible, but we needed to warn the City,” Faxi continued. “I don’t know what this attack means— if Anhur has simply lost his mind, or if all the Lucretiuses are involved—but I figured if anyone could put the pieces together, it’d be you, brother.”
“You honor me with too much credit. The news of Yggdrassil’s destruction will not be taken lightly. I don’t expect mass panic, but there is reason to fear that this is not an isolated attack.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, a wave of worry washing over me.
“Gaia-class Capeks are the only ones capable of truly creating weapons of war on the galactic scale. Sure, some Von Neumanns can assemble fairly terrifying engines of destruction should they put their minds to it, but none can match the sheer volume and scale of a progenitor fabrication facility. If I were to mount a military campaign against us, I would begin by taking out the Gaias.”
It made an awful lot of sense in a horrifying sort of way. This was a side of Capek civilization I had not expected to see—a cold and unfeeling approach to problem solving that allowed them to look at their military capabilities with a pragmatic and efficient mind. If, as Skinfaxi had mentioned, very few Capeks had weapons, then destroying Yggdrassil and others with manufacturing capabilities would leave us all helpless.
I looked at Aurvandil, a tall and beautiful artificial entity. More piece of art than tool, his body didn’t seem to have the obvious tailored uses
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