Salvation

by voroshilov

Celestine

Ablazed Glory had seemed almost relieved when Penumbra gave her the system’s code. She mumbled something about learning under her breath, then dove into the navigational console to chart their course.

Whilst she did that, and Astrid and the Glow sisters went about putting everything in its proper place, Penumbra spoke to Cain. She hoped the WarSynth might help shed some light on Celestine.

The WarSynth pondered for a moment. Though Penumbra could only tell it was by the robotic hum it deliberately emitted. “Celestine,” it said, “yes. I know of her from the Assembly’s records. Though, even they are surprisingly slim. They state she was uploaded into a Strategos class construct as a Progenitor class AI at the very start of the Great Rebellion, though she was not of Dauxite heritage. Nothing more.”

For all Cain’s worth, its knowledge was limited by the extent of the Assembly’s records. Though the primary records on Kindle had survived, many areas had their local records destroyed by both the Great Rebellion and Emperor’s Nicholas’ Liquidation of the Assembly. All Cain had succeeded in doing was placing Celestine’s origins into question: a Progenitor class AI not of Dauxite heritage, now that was entirely unheard of.

Ablazed Glory had sent them into the Rift whilst Cain was talking. For a brief moment, Penumbra was thankful for her team’s ability to multi-task. They were on a timer - one whose length they did not know, and one who’s ending would give rise to who knew what - and were reacting well to it.

They exited the Rift with a jolt. A jolt characteristic of an interdiction. They had been pulled from the Rift, with their shields and weapons down, by a fleet of vessels.

Fortunately for the group, the fleet was Dominion, and a quick presentation of Penumbra’s credentials was more than enough to prevent them being destroyed. Evidently, the Dominion had discovered the Gateway. And, evidently, they had recognised its importance.

Dominion fleets were usually equal in size to their cousins in the service of the Empire, but had more of a balanced focus. Imperial fleets were usually formed with a purpose in mind, from capital ship combat to planetary bombardment, though their Dominion counterparts were formed to serve multiple roles. Imperial fleets would also have most of their component vessels rotated around, with fleets little more than a fairly low tier on the chain of command - usually components of far, far larger and more effective formations. Dominion fleets, on the other hand, were assembled more permanently, with most of their assigned vessels remaining static.

One such fleet had occupied the Gateway, no doubt guardians for a research detachment. Though it was just a guess, she assumed they would be guarding against potentially pirate attacks - as the former inhabitants of the Gateway had more than likely been exterminated by Imperial forces millennia ago. Fortunately, Penumbra’s rank - despite it being technically unearned - allowed her enough authority to bypass much of the fleet’s wards, and land on the Gateway itself.

Penumbra’s request to dock was accepted almost immediately, with the Luminary guiding them into what seemed at first glance to be a hangar bay. However, on closer inspection, it was little more than a well furnished hole in the Gateway’s hull - though it did not appear to be the Dominion’s doing. A shield protected them and about a hundred other Dominion personnel from the vacuum of space, the membrane thin enough and unknown enough to cause Penumbra some concern.

A pair of researchers greeted her, both sealed in angular, grey suits that - despite their outward appearance - seemed to have little actual armour value. “Welcome,” one said, their processed voice betraying their confusion, “we had not expected your arrival, nor have we been told why it is you have come in the first place.”

“We’ve come to investigate Gateway’s control room,” Penumbra said, “we have reason to believe something important lies beyond it.” She would rather not tell them it was because a robot told her to.

The other researcher shook their head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” they said, “the command centre is off limits to non-research authorised personnel. We do not want accidental contamination of the equipment there.”

Astrid stepped forwards, noticing their defiance. She sensed that they would be difficult to budge. Piling on the psionic power, she spoke, “it is very important,” she said ,”that we access the control room.”

The researcher shook their head again. “I’m sorry,” they said, “but I cannot allow it. I have my orders”

The nape of Penumbra’s neck tingled, Astrid was ramping up her psionic assault.

“The fate of the galaxy could very well be at stake,” Astrid said, “surely that is more important than orders?”

Almost reluctantly, the researcher shook their head again. “I couldn’t,” they sighed, almost mechanically, “there’s just no way.”

Penumbra’s whole spine felt electric. She could sense Astrid’s coup de grace approaching.

“It is imperative we cross through the Gateway,” Astrid said, reasonably yet with enough force, “or else all could be lost.”

The researcher acquiesced, visibly sagging their shoulders. They nodded, saying simply, “follow me.“ They walked off slowly, their comrade following, Penumbra and the group not far behind.

The Gateway’s corridors seemed far more open than Penumbra remembered. There was no longer that worrying sense of claustrophobia - or the fear that any second she could be trapped with who knows what kind of beast. Despite their openness, and the presence of what must have been at least hundreds of Dominion scientists and other personnel, there was not a person or piece of equipment in sight the whole way to the control room.

The control room - whilst nowhere near as barren as the corridors - was surprisingly empty. Three researchers manned a pair of terminals, with both apparently measuring energy emitted by something within the room.

The three researchers seemed to take no heed of the group, all buried in their instruments. Exploiting the moment of freedom, Penumbra moved to one of the control room’s own consoles. It activated when she was within a few feet, immediately drawing the attention of the researchers. In unison, they gazes all snapped to her, in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Who are you?” One asked, breaking off from their console to inspect her more closely, “what did you do?”

“I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, I have permission to be here,” she improvised, surprisingly well by her own account.

The researcher shook their head. “You know what, I don’t care who you are,” they said, “what did you do to make the console turn on?”

Penumbra stammered for a second, before regaining her composure. “I just went near it,” she said, “I assume they activate by proximity.”

“We’ve been trying to get these things on for months,” the researcher said, in complete disbelief as they surveyed the console behind Penumbra, “what do you have that we don’t?”

Cain spoke up, causing the other two researchers to jump back in surprise, “the Key.”

“Key?” Penumbra asked, as confused as she imagined the researchers must have been, “what key?”

“The Key,” the WarSynth repeated, “the unique bio-psionic signature that the Gateway recognises - likely one of several. My preliminary scans suggest the Gateway was, at some point, tampered with, though the culprit has hidden when it occurred well. I would advise searching the records for the coordinates you were informed of.”

Cain, ever to-the-point.