#the Icthus directive

[dimsilver]

The Icthus Directive

(part 1)

16:04:22 Galaxy Standard Time

Agent Kelton entered the numbers into the menu as precisely as his exosuit gloves would let him. 72% baroque orchestra. 28% smooth jazz.

He tapped a final button, flicked off the suit’s forearm screen, and grinned as the first notes sounded gently in his earpiece. Everyone had their own blends of automusic these days, but he was proud of this one. He’d spent weeks adjusting the percentages until the jazz notes wavered just between the melody and the continuo, supporting but not overwhelming the whole.

He started the rover again. Music should help the drive go faster. The planet Nereus was known for its constant pale-green twilight, bare, jutting landscape…and not much else. Working in census compliance didn’t really set you up for trips to the luxury biosphere planets.

Just one more isolated mining settlement to go.

18:20:37 GST

Kelton jerked the rover to the left as its fat rubber tires nearly collided with yet another spiky rock jutting from the canyon floor.

He could see the end of the canyon ahead, where one wall sank back into a dusty twilit plain. It couldn’t come soon enough. He’d been awake almost a full standard day, and he’d spent the last hour weaving through the canyon, straining to see ahead. The rover’s headlights were bright enough, but they turned the rocks nearest him into knife-sharp, mile-long shadows that obscured everything in their path.

He flexed one hand, sore from clenching the wheel. Right, right again, left—around a rock that towered taller than a D-class ship. He was nearly there.

And that’s when the tire popped.

Kelton knew by instinct what the sharp jerk was even as it flung him forward. He clung to the wheel as the rover careened to the right, wrenching it into a clear spot. He slammed on the brakes and slid to an unsteady halt. The rover rocked forward, then sideways, as any remaining air left the shredded tire in a rush.

Dust clouded and swirled in the headlights. Theorbo and bass guitar twanged together in his ear.

He took a long breath, switched off the automusic, and cursed. Very loudly.

Survival wasn’t the issue. The rover carried emergency oxygen and food, even a foldable shelter in case of something like this. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken down while on a job.

But the closest company craft was on the literal other side of the planet, over in Luton. Devor had taken it to do the big, spread-out mining centers there, leaving him with the rover for the little ones. He’d told her it wouldn’t be a problem.

Knowing her, she’d decide it was most efficient to finish up her compliance visits before coming to his rescue—and she’d expect him to get his last one finished anyway.

Flicking on his forearm screen, he typed a quick message and activated his location beacon.

I’ve broken down a few miles out from Settlement A412. Rover is currently inoperable and will need to be transported for maintenance. I’ll plan to meet you at A412 at your earliest convenience.

Scowling, he pressed “send.”

Then he swung down from the rover. Boots crunching in the dusty gravel, he walked around to the back and unhooked the survival essentials pack. With a grunt, he swung it unto his shoulders and fastened the straps.

He’d rather get to A412 tonight. The shelter wasn’t comfortable.

Cursing again, Kelton switched off the rover, sending his surroundings into stark blackness. Quickly, he turned on his exosuit’s own headlight. Then he marked his current coordinates, set up the routing system, and started walking.

He didn’t have Settlement A412’s exact coordinates—that was the other problem. Its census agreements hadn’t been updated in over ten years. An embarrassment to the Milky Way Authority, on all counts—one he would soon correct. But first, he had to get to the general area, keeping his eyes open for the domed shelters that would be burrowed into the rocks beside the yawning mining shafts. And he was tired.

He hadn’t walked for more than a few minutes when he saw a figure ahead—silhouetted in the pale light just beyond the canyon’s end. It seemed to be walking slowly in his direction. He tensed a little, gloved fingers twitching towards the stun rod clipped to his thigh, then dropping again. A lone traveler, on foot, was unusual. But Nereus wasn’t known for violence or gang activity.

The figure continued its slow progress toward him. As they drew even with another and his headlight flashed over it, he saw that it was an android.

An old DG-30 unit. Emphasis on old—a long crack ran down one of its legs, and the eye-sensors were separate, mounted on top of the head. Probably a pre-biometric scanning model. No visible weapons.

It had to be from Settlement A412. But why was it ranging miles away?

Kelton took a step closer. “Directive?” he asked it.

“Directive,” said a cool, carefully accented voice. “Feed the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. Clothe the naked. Shelter the homeless. Visit the sick. Bury the dead.”

The directive was non-standard. Not mining protocol, that was for sure. The unit paused, as if waiting.

Then suddenly it bent at the waist, reached out a rust-spotted finger, and traced a shape into the fine gray dust. Two curving lines, like segments of a circle, meeting at one point and crossing at another.

He had hoped that the DG-30 would show him the way. But the scratched shape didn’t look like a map.

Kelton leaned forward and sent a visual search query for the symbol. But the results pane at the bottom of his vision came back empty.

The unit’s two greenish eye-sensors were tilted toward him. “I don’t understand,” he told it.

It paused again, as if recalibrating, then asked a new question.

“What is your need?” The metallic voice had a touch of sympathy.

“Nothing,” Kelton began; then, remembering its odd directive in a sudden flash of genius—“I mean, I’m homeless.”

“Homeless,” repeated the android. “No place of residence?”

“None,” he answered, hoping it somehow wouldn’t scan his identity chip.

It paused again. Then it nodded.

“Follow me,” it said, and it turned and began walking.

That worked?

Kelton followed. They crunched along in silence, out of the dark canyon, and struck out across the plain. For the first time in hours, he felt like laughing. The whole interaction had been so strange—just a few words, and now the unit was taking him where he needed to go. And the shape it had drawn? He’d have to ask about it at the mining settlement.

Odd that the visual search hadn’t found anything.

(part 2 coming soon)

@inklings-challenge

[inklings-challenge]

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