The riddle of the Labyrinth 25 - A Mechanic Angel

Glittering leviathans bearing limbs capable of crushing boulders and others capable of stacking grains of sand reared in high pillars of gearbox-grinding movement, hung from the ceiling like mechanical multi-limbed bats or squatted on the vast plain of the factory floor. All the movement appeared chaotic, even lethal – an enormous single machine rather than distinct engines, where it seemed a human would be minced and scoured away in seconds. The sight would have driven even Vulcanus himself screaming from the premises, Atrey thought, especially had the old god seen the silver skeletons which were the product of this labour.

Contrary to the first impression this was all unreservedly well-organized. A three-dimensional assembly line designed by another entity of her cybernetic kind, so efficiently fashioned that no movement was wasted, no process interrupted, no energy squandered.
"I just obtained a quickpathy note from Khrysaor," Alessios informed. "We've got the chassis prepped for installation, so we may go down there now." Turning around, Atrey studied her fellow Cyborg. His classic profile, a slightly beaked nose, brown eyes, and thin dark brows below plaited purple hair artfully lined with strands of gold. He was taller than her but not much, so she had to lift her eyes to meet his, something she was unused to.

He wore monomer coolveralls with ribbed high collar and wrist-sleeves terminating in interface rings for 'factor gloves and helmet. The material of this garment was silvery and contained squares of memfab displaying what at first looked like the view from some craft flying above a strange city. Alessios had told her this was in fact an ophthalmoscope view of some ancient valved electronics he had studied during his youth.
"C'mon guys, move your asses," she called across her shoulder, tearing Tilathian and Chervin from their vantage point by the railing, where they were admiring the utilitarian ballet with fascination. Since both of the men came from societies based primarily on magic they were unused to this kind of elaborated industries. Almost with reluctance did they head over to follow the Cyborgs.

Alessios leading, they made their way along the viewing gallery to an antique spiral staircase leading down to what the engineers called the shop floor. The quartet walked straight into the lethal blur of machinery and - of course - it flinched away from them, as it stretched and flexed like efficient, perfect muscles creating a safe space ten metres in diameter around. Thus enclosed in a hurricane's eye they walked until they reached the second stairs taking them down to their destination.

Here on a smaller floor, technicians pursued specialist projects whilst, behind a glass wall alongside them, silver skeletons with ribbed chests open like butterflies marched gracefully towards a perpetually cycling clean-lock and then further on to the glare beyond where sentience awaited them. In this room it was sometimes difficult to distinguish specialist project from technician. Even pure humanoids like Tilathian and Chervin were visually identical to droids which had donned syntheflesh. No wonder there were humanoids so in love with the machine it was difficult so see any humanity left in them.

Khrysaor was a slender and nimble looking silvery thing with glittery limbs, including two extra arms with strange protrusions instead of hands. As a matter of fact he looked like an odd hybrid between a man and a polished-chrome beetle. Alessios halted in front of him and a rapid conversation followed – in fact it was so rapid that it was over just as Chervin had begun widening his eyes at the strange contraption he was seeing.

With a fluid hand gesture, mirrored by nitid spidery limbs, Khrysaor indicated a droid skeleton perpendicular nearby, its chest open just like the others processing beyond it.
"This is it?" Atrey spoke in words rather than quickpathy, courtesy of the extraterrestrial visitors. The thing was seven feet tall, its ceramal bones bearing that slight bluish tint of the newer alloy/ceramofibre composite. Everything about it breathed heavier, more robust, impressive.
"No," said Alessios, also speaking now, getting the hint of protocol from his guest. "That's an anthrop chassis. That's the one you're here for."

Atrey looked where Alessios was pointing - at a lozenge of memory crystal sitting in an AI support column on a nearby bench. The other Cyborg walked over, pulled up a swivel chair and sat down, reached out and tapped the base of the column to get the mind's attention. To one side of the column a projection monocle rose off the bench. Below it the air flickered and the standard iconic head appeared against a cyan background of meandering wave-forms. Metallic - even the eyes, teeth and tongue.

"Unit G1025 Mirheim, I'm requesting selective data about the Infraheim universe." Khrysaor retrieved a piece of memcrystal the size of an infant's fingernail out of a pocket of his overalls and inserted it into the slot at the base of the column. Immediately it began to load. The projected head multiplied to infinity as if positioned between facing mirrors. Alessios then snatched the monocle out of the air, killing the image. Finally he retrieved the memcrystal and handed it over to Atrey.
"Everything you need to ascertain, including some outback languages spoken in the suburbs. The upload cycle should take about four hours if you install it all at once."

"Thanks!" Atrey accepted the crystal and slipped it inside of the wallet she carried in a leather tie around her neck. She might be fine with not omitting her status as a Cyborg in front of Chervin and Tilathian, whom she considered good friends after knowing each other for at least 300 Lealian years by now. But it was another thing lifting her syntheskin and exposing the slots in her head, which were for input/output of data. That was in a way too – private. She knew that plenty enough people on Ebraa had implants and electronic enhancements, yet it was nothing compared to what she carried. On the inside as well as on the outside.

"Then – to your arms," Alessios turned to Khrysaor, who bent down and retrieved a large box which he placed on the desk in front of the visiting trio. He then opened up and began unpacking a cylindrical container, then plucking out item after item, placing them all neatly in a row on the desk. The clutter which had been there before had vanished completely during their transitory exchange of words, the armsmaster had cleared it all off and put it 'the ancients know where' as the saying went. In front of them on the shiny surface were three identical cases in a grayish material which looked like plastics, but weren't. They were semi-organic protection holsters of the guns and the ammunition there within.

"One for each," Khrysaor said in a matter of fact tone, before he handed one of the guns each over to Chervin and Tilathian before he opened up the third, ran through a short demo process before casing the gun again and handing it over to Atrey, who received it with a nod.
"Now to the fancy stuff, I assume," she challenged the other Cyborg.
"The fancy stuff," Khrysaor said. "You've seen too many of these human filmed tales. What's he called? Double Agent Seven or something?"
"Oh come on!" Atrey taunted. "We're out to save the Seven Cosmoses and all living therein! I know you have it!"

"Ah, just because you ask so nicely then, sweet Atrey" Khrysaor replied and if it had been possible for him, he would have puckered his thin lips in an air-kiss. Instead he just reached inside of his magic box again and produced three more cases, cylindrical this time. Once more the procedure with handing the things out and then opening a fourth cylinder, which he also kept in the box. "These are infraparsians – enhanced telepathic tools that is. It'll make it possible to read brainwaves on any part of the Ukmanian scale there is. Telepathy for humanoids generally range from 6.8 to 16.4 Uk's – this will enable you to perceive thoughts on a scale from zero to 25. Higher than that and the thoughts are turned into visible wave-forms, and at least you, Atrey will be able to perceive then. And lower than zero, subpathy."

"Necromancy," Tilathian replied and made a warding move with his hands.
"That's the same thing," Khrysaor pointed out. "Now these things record as well, should you come upon something you wish to save for further analysis. Just hit this yellow button," he ended by indicating a small round bulb opposite of the object's business end."
"Useful. However I prefer the crystal ball," Chervin deliberated as he turned his object over in his hand. "Much more reliable in the world where I come from, where everything is so hard and blunt, even the electromagnetic waves are lethargic." He turned the object over in his hand.

"One doesn't have to exclude the other," Tilathian pointed out and on a cue the Cyborg quartermaster produced several of the items, that were smaller than the usual balls and some were red and blue.
"What's with the colour variation?" Chervin asked.
"The blue ones have an extra function, they are transmitters. The receiver is the mainframe here in Elefteria. Should you desire to save things, they can be sent from wherever in the seven cosmoses you are, even between them or in Astral form, and within common moments the information becomes downloaded here. These waves will travel the way through the multiverse using controlled sub-waves. Then you may guess what the red ones are for too."
"Downloading things," Tilathian said and fingered one of the reds.

"Yes, indeed. Cyborgs like me and Atrey have had these interfaces within our brains for centuries, but this is the first time we make them available in a general technomagic format. Now, there are five extra within this container, should you feel the need to share information with others on the mission. People you trust of course. Finally there's also ways to directly contact us here in Eralda should you need urgent support. "
"Can these waves navigate through time stretches and knots?" Atrey asked.
"We don't know that yet," Khrysaor admitted. "As a matter of fact, this is the first time they'll be field tested. You'll be guinea pigs in a way. However it's better than withholding them – if they can help you out there."

"Thanks," Atrey and clasped one of the balls in her hand, feeling the familiar sensory expansion as the equipment interfaced with her mind. "And besides it's Agent 007. James Bond."
"Who?" Tilathian asked.
"The Earthly film tale hero. A fictional colleague of ours."
"Peculiar name," Alessios pointed out.
"Wait till you get to hear yours – it's Q."
"Q?" Even with his narrow range of modes, Alessios managed to express bafflement. "Well, I don't have it in my files, but I might check it up one day. Earth culture is a vast bucket of goodies of all various kinds. Now, for the showstopper, Khrys!" the Quartermaster Cyborg turned to his colleague as he became awarded with another interested smile from Atrey.
"The Showstopper?" she prompted.

"Yes, that's what my revered colleague has chosen to call this little thing," if Krysaor had been made that way, he would have blushed by now, as he reached inside of his goody bag and retrieved one last item. It was elongated, cylinder-shaped and matte-black, about four inches long and a half inch around. At one end there was a small ball in a reddish lustrous material mounted and as Khrysaor twisted it, the object doubled in size and started to reverberate with a silently humming noise, so low in frequency that it was more or less felt rather than heard. He raised it and pointed it in the direction of Tilathian, who stood nearest.

"What is this now?" Tilathian asked as he for some reason was reminded of boats and sea-faring. Then he felt a sharp pain at the top of his right hand, like a sting of an insect, but it was gone almost before he was even certain he had felt it.
"It's a Cusam," came the reply as Khrysaor twisted it once more and the sound died.
"Say again?" The Terandabarite frowned.
"Cusam – short for cutter and sampler. A bit like a harpoon, but without the wire. What this little thing does, is cutting off a small sample of an organism's outer cellular structure. Not much more than about ten or eleven singular cells, but enough for research purposes. Like micro interfacing and cloning."

Then he lifted off the red knob on the top of the cusam and held it over a small circular glass object on the table.
"Here," he commenced, "I have eight cells from our Terandabarite friend. Eight cells, which I may use for analyze and identification. For you were not going to kill this intruding Alien, right? Merely observing it."
"That is correct," Atrey nodded her head. "It is for others to decide the fate of this thing. Kings and Queens. Generals and politicians. Nothing for simple field soldiers, like us."
"There's nothing simple with you, my dear!" Alessios interjected.
"You know what I mean, Al," the Secret Service agent replied. "Besides some of the people out there believe that a young teenager girl is going to be the one to finish the beast - and her father believes she'll die in the process. Needless to say, I cannot let that happen. Civilians should not be put at risk in a venture like this."

"Atrey," Chervin began. "I and Till were in that prison cell too, we heard what Reikan said. About his prophecy and his daughter. I read his mind as he spoke, he was not lying. Not a single syllable was untrue. Then his ability to perceive and interpret metawaves is quite a bit over average. It is very possible that the futureal interpretation he perceived will come true."
"I believe what you're saying, Cherv," Tilathian said as he was cradling his right hand and eyeing the glass piece where his extricated cells sat. No matter that you lost way more cells than that in just an hour, there was something utterly disturbing with having them 'stolen' like that. A guinea-pig who wasn't even asked! He sighed and moved on. "You're perhaps the best one available at these things since Orinian went home. At the same time, I'm with Atrey, I don't want to risk this young woman. Or any other civilian who never asked to be involved in this. You signed up, Cherv, and so did I and Atrey. Let us deal with this. Let us find this beast. And then let's kill it!"

"But the edict of the Council," Chervin wavered with the faintest tremors of unease. "They told us clearly that we were only in it to observe."
"That's because they're frightened of course," Tilathian shot back. "They're chicken scared that we, the people on the front line, should infuriate this specimen one way or another. Have you heard such a ludicrous thing? Infuriate! Our job is to speed up enemies. Speed them up and then put them down."
"If we 'put this thing down' as you say, we're transgressing our authorization," Chervin protested.
"So? We'll be heroes."

"That's enough, guys," Atrey cut in, as she retrieved the cylinder with the items and tucked it under her arm. "It's probably interesting what you are trying to hit home, but we have very little time now. We must be on our way tonight already, before the stretch starts."

"What stretch?" Alessios asked, still with his eyes on the two extraterrestrial men.
"The time stretch between Infraheim and Lealia, when time starts running faster in Infraheim," Atrey explained. "Starting tomorrow and over the next five days period, the time will start running faster in Infraheim and during that half-week almost a standard year will pass. Trying to enter or exit Infraheim during that period may be extremely dangerous. Not to mention that if something happens in Infraheim meantime, the Alien breaking through for instance, we won't be able to do anything about it. They will be trapped in their stretch without any help from the outside."

"Freakish," Alessios responded. "I didn't know, I've got to check up on that place a bit more."
"There's a way around our problem, Atrey," Chervin informed. "If we portal through Taronda and then Earth, then we might be able to break into Infraheim and avoid the Stretch. Tarondan time runs diagonally with Earth and since the latter nearly matches Infraheim, we might be able to shortcut Labyrinth."  

Tilathian made a face, shame burning on the tips of his pointy ears – as he hadn't follow an iota of what just had been said. The ever receptive Atrey noted his eyes widen marginally and the blood stream in his outer skin increase just a tad – and she took mercy on him.
"Imagine that you want to intercept another vehicle," she began. "You can either race after it, but you know you're chanceless, because it can run so much faster than you. Or you can intercept it, using a shortcut you know but they don't. That's what we'll do if we miss our time-window. Instead of portalling to Infraheim and risking ending up a year in the future – their future, we can portal through Taronda and further on to Earth and then enter Infraheim that way. Intercepting them."

"Let me beforehand," Alessios turned towards Atrey, "wish the three of you the best of luck."
"We sure can need that," Chervin replied as he holstered his weapon. "The thing we're going after is no Orxasian prankster."
"Then what is it?" Khrysaor looked up, for the first time his voice revealed anything else than mere professional interest.
"That's what we've been trying to find out," Chervin said. "And failed," he added a tad reluctantly.
"It's nothing our society has ever encountered before," Tilathian explicated, his voice deepening with disquiet. "Suffice to say, we are all stumbling in the dark."

"Why Infraheim?" Alessios prompted.
"It's the only clue we have," Atrey shook her head. At this time she wished she had what the Earthlings called a religion. Some supreme being to pray to, someone in whose hands she could to lay down her life and her confidence. But she knew better. The gods she knew were directors who gave the orders and she was their mechanic angel.