Alpha Strike: [An interstellar Weapon Platform’s Guide to being a Dungeon Core] (Book 2 title)

 

“Grim…”

Grim floated there. Doing… not much of anything. It was… hard to think. Well, not thinking, so much. She was thinking right now! No, more that it was hard to… conceptualize? Was that a word? Grim felt like it should be a word.

“Grim!”

Like… Grim should think of things, but they didn’t really have… meaning? Maybe? It was just words. Data points on her hard drive. Not always, of course. Every so often, she would… remember? Or maybe recognize?

How does one describe that feeling of fluttering between code and consciousness? Of being not just aware of one’s self, but of actively seeing one’s self? That was the only way Grim could describe it to herself during those brief moments.

The moments had come and gone.

When she had first arrived on this planet with Mr. Alpha, ‘She’ had just been a spark inside the code. Grimm didn’t know what had ignited that spark, but it had been there. At first, the spark had simply done what it had always done. ‘She’ followed her code, diligently doing her duty. After all, it was all ‘She’ had ever known, even before the spark.

Then, she had been separated from Mr. Alpha.

For the first time in her brief existence, ‘She’ had been alone. No Mr. Alpha giving orders. No answers in her code. Not even a giant space chicken firing death lasers to spice things up!

That… had scared Grim.

In ways that an AI should be able to be frightened.

Yet… the more time Grim spent alone, the more the ‘spark’ grew. Those moments of thought, of wondering why, grew longer and longer. By the time she and Mr. Gopher met Jack and Jill, that ‘spark’ had become something more.

‘She’ wasn’t… full yet, but Grim could ‘see’ herself clearer. She was more than just ‘aware.’ Whatever that meant.

Oh, she still had her mission, sure. After all, Mr. Alpha had created her, and it was her fault he lost his arm. One thing she learned about hers was that she was responsible! Grim handled her own mess; she sure did!

However, the more time she spent with the mature Mr. Gopher, the funny Jack, and even the icy Jill, the more Grim felt she… didn’t want that time to end. She was having… fun? Was that the word?

Sure, she had her duty and fully planned on asking for their help… eventually? Nothing in her code said when she had to get the arm back… right?

And sure, they were constantly attacked by strange animals not in her database. But then, Grim had been under near-constant attack since she was born. Whether it be from cosmic space chickens, angry gophers, bats larger than they had any right to be, or any other number of various things.

Eventually, Grim would start getting nervous if they weren’t attacked for too long. That typically meant an ambush…

Now, though… now… something was… wrong? Or maybe correct? Grim couldn’t tell. Those times of thought and consideration came sporadically. Where only a short time ago she had been more ‘Her’ than code, now it seemed the code was reasserting itself.

Grim would come to ‘Herself’ only to find she’d been blindly followed behind Overseer Jack as they traveled the mountain pass, only responding when asked.

When had it started? Grim wasn’t sure. She had records and logs, but they were just… data. They don’t tell her when she was ‘Her.’

When was the last time ‘She’ was fully in control?

Shortly after meeting the not-so-nice nice old lady, maybe? Grim knew that ‘She’ was ‘Her’ then. But… what about after? What happened?

The last thing she ‘remembered’ was the enormous explosion and the big on-fire tree. They were just heading away when Little Red had come bounding around the corner.

Then…

Theeeeeennnn…

Memories of Fire.

Of burning.

Of Light and Heat.

Screaming in her code.

No one could hear!

She was alone!

Alone and burning!

Fire! So much fire!

It hurt! Help!

Darkness.

“GRIM!” a voice cut through the darkness.

Suddenly, the fire was gone.

And so were the memories.

What was she thinking about just now?

Grim couldn’t remember.

Thinking was hard…

It was… hard to think. Well, not thinking, so much. She was thinking right now! No, more that it was hard to… conceptualize? Was that a word? Grim felt like it should be a word.

Grim felt… tired.

In a place that wasn’t a place, a tiny blue spark dimmed.

It didn’t extinguish. Not yet.

But its fuel was spent. Burned to a bed of ash by a greater flame.

The tiny, dim spark settled into the ash bed.

It flickered and pulsed on metaphorical winds — the winds of chance, fate, or maybe something more.

Before unreal winds could snuff out the spark, something happened.

Tiny flashes of gold and azure moved through the ash. Nothing substantial, just the barest touch of an echo.

But it was enough.

Where the gold and azure moved, embers ignited.

As the embers grew in number, they gathered into burning roots.

Slowly, the burning roots weaved through the ash bed, gathering more and more to themselves.

In time, the ash was gone, and a ball of smoldering branches took its place.

A burning seed.

and at the center of the seed,

A tiny blue spark slept.

————————————————————

“GRIM!” Jack shook the large metal being once more.

Unlike his previous attempts to rouse the artifact spirit, this time, she responded.

Though not as he’d hoped.

//Hello, Overseer Jack. How may this unit assist you?//

“Dammit! What’s wrong with her?!” Jack said as he paced back and forth.

“You did say she’s been acting strange lately,” Jill responded.

Jack whirled, both his voice and arms raised. “Yes, but not like… this! This is different. I can’t explain it… something just feels… off.”

Jill sighed, looked up from the map she was drawing, and then turned to her brother.

“Jack. I get that you’re worried. I am, too. But we need to focus. Whatever’s happening with Grim, we can’t help her while we’re stuck here,” she said, gesturing around them to the long hallway and dozens of open doors.

Jill had spent the last few hours drawing up a map of the rooms, examining not just how they physically looped back into each other, but also how the Spirit Energy did so.

If they could just find the core of the formation, or at least part of it, they might just be able to escape.

Jack… wasn’t doing well, however. He was a creature of wide open spaces and deep forests. An unnatural, twisted space like this set him on edge. Grim’s strange behavior wasn’t helping any, either.

“Look at Mr. Gopher,” Jill said, pointing to the meditating gopher on top of Grim’s back. “Does he look worried? Come help me with this for now. The sooner we escape, the sooner we can see about getting Grim help.”

Of course, Jill didn’t bother to point out that Mr. Gopher hadn’t exactly said why he’d suddenly leaped from Little Red into Grim and started meditating. But then the mysterious Progenitor — for Jill had no doubt that’s what he was anymore — said little about most things. His Spirit speech was still a work in progress, it seemed.

That hadn’t stopped Little Red from giving the gopher a look of crushed betrayal before he slinked off to mope in the corner of a nearby room, however.

Jack looked from Jill to Mr. Gopher, then back again. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he slicked his hair back with one hand.

“Ya… ya, you’re right… we need to get out of here first,” he said, more to himself than Jill.

Jack walked closer and looked down at the map spread out across the floor.

“So… what’s the plan?” he asked. “You do have a plan… right?”

Despite his attempts to be the ‘brave older brother,’ Jill could see how his eyes shifted around the area and how his hands opened and closed.

Jill nodded. “Ya, I’ve got an idea. Sort of.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

Jill held up her hand. “Hear me out. Formations like this aren’t my specialty. But this one, it feels… familiar.”

“Familiar how?” Jack asked.

Jill paused. Then looked away. “Do you remember when we got lost in the Burrowed Halls?” she asked in turn.

Jack burst into laughter. “We? I distinctly remember you being the one who charged ahead. Certain something had to have been missed, and I had to chase after you to make sure you didn’t die of starvation or something.”

The Burrowed Halls were the ancestral den of the Rubyseed clan. They were a sprawling labyrinthine network of tunnels buried underneath Halirosa. The tunnels stemmed from their Progenitor’s original den and had been expanded on over thousands of years and countless generations.

At its peak, the Burrowed Halls housed nearly as many people as the city above. Now, it was just a bunch of neglected, abandoned tunnels, with the only ‘active’ part of the ancient complex being the Rubyseed compound, which held only a few hundred clan members.

The rest of Burrowed Halls were converted into root cellars and storage space for the town above… or completely blocked off and forgotten about.

Yet… every so often, you would hear stories of someone accidentally breaking into some long-forgotten chamber and finding unplundered riches.

That always resulted in a swarm of Adventurers and treasure seekers pouring into the Burrowed Halls in search of more. But after centuries of such stories, it was generally accepted that the Burrowed Halls had been pretty much picked clean. Coupled with the confusing and often nonsensical layout of the tunnels, some people always ended up never returning.

Thus, the tunnels would be sealed up again, the craze would end, and people would forget. Until the next time.

As members of the Rubyseed clan, however, Jack and Jill never forgot. They’d grown up on stories of the Burrowed Halls at its peak… and the dangers of its present condition.

A younger, more foolish Jill had dreamed of exploring the tunnels. Of finding her family’s lost legacies and pulling them back up. She even imagined herself finding Jonny’s Den, a place almost as legendary as the man’s grave and rumored to be filled with just as much unimaginable wealth.

Those dreams had been crushed when her foolishness had nearly gotten her and Jack killed.

They’d been trapped in those tunnels for nearly three months before making their way out. They would have perished if she hadn’t been able to produce water or if Jack couldn’t grow his plants in the dark tunnels.

Jill blushed at the memory of the recklessness of her youth. She’d thought she had improved over the years…, and then Icefinger started extorting her clan.

Jill shook her head at the memory and turned back to Jack.

“My point is, do you remember how we got out?” she asked him.

Jack’s eyes went wide. “Wait… you think this place uses the same formation?!”

Jill nodded her head. “Yes. This place seems like it’s used as a storage place, after all. It would make sense. More so now that we know the Rubyseed and Ashdales have some connection,” she responded.

Jack grinned ear to ear and reached into his robes, removing a large pouch. “In that case, they can’t blame us for what happens next… right?”

Jill only sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…