Read Online The Life Engineered by J. F. Dubeau - Free Book Online Page A

companion reassured me. “Very few Capeks are equipped with any kind of weapon, and even fewer of our tools are weaponized. This mass driver and your plasma cutter are probably the most powerful weapons within several light-years.”
    I was tempted to ask how he knew about the powerful tool Yggdrassil had given me. Perhaps he had scanned my body as I came on board. Still, I could not bring myself to feel any safer.
    “What if it’s been modified with some kind of defensive capabilities? Shouldn’t we notify some sort of authority?”
    “Ho-ho,” he laughed. “You misunderstand a fundamental of Capek society: we do not have a central government or authority.”
    That seemed strange to me, that a society could be intentionally unsupervised. Without a governmental body, how did anything get done?
    “What about human authority? Surely they have a stake in this.”
    “They have a stake, yes, but you wouldn’t call it immediate. Yggdrassil didn’t have time to explain much, did she?”
    I let my silence speak for me, looking within instead for the answers. I quickly found out that there were no human governments because there were no humans. Anywhere. There hadn’t been for centuries. You’d think Yggdrassil would have mentioned this. There was more, of course, but it would have to wait.
    “I’m bringing us close to an access port. Since I’m not getting any answer from the ship, you’re going to have to go inside.”
    I looked around, mildly surprised I was asked to do anything.
    “Oh. Sure. What am I looking for?”
    “Find the bridge. You should be able to access the ship’s logs from there. If you can’t, open transmissions so I can download them myself, then feel free to cut out the memory core and bring it back.”
    At least the mission was something I already had experience with.
    “What about this?” I held aloft the torn-up fragment of the Nursery I had rescued from Midgard.
    “Leave it here. I’ll keep it safe.”
    And without further ceremony I made my way back to the hatch.

THE SPEAR OF ATHENA
    L ess than twenty-four hours after my birth, I witnessed a cataclysm on an astronomical level, survived a meteor crash, made and lost a friend, traveled through a wormhole, and now I was preparing for my second space walk. In all honesty it was more of a space hop. Skinfaxi had positioned the hatch (his belly?) very close to what looked like a main access port. It was just a matter of a short jump to latch onto the railings that framed the thick, wide door. As soon as it was clear I had made it safely, Skinfaxi moved to a more comfortable distance.
    The door itself was four meters wide and set into a larger access port that measured at least eight times that size. Both were rectangular, with chevroned splits in the center, which I assume was where they each opened.
    My automated systems informed me of a low-yield magnetic field that encased what looked like an access panel. It was consistent with an NFC lock. I waved my hand around the panel, and a small blinking blue light activated, letting me know that my magnetic signature had been read.
    A second later I felt the rumbling of powerful motors through the railing, and the small door came to life, split open, and let forth a beam of yellow light from the airlock within. No sooner had I maneuvered into the airlock than a spinning light activated, warning of the closing hatch. This ship looked and felt primitive. It had none of the sleek and polished curves of Yggdrassil, relying instead on sharp angles, thick bulkheads, and clumsy design. Everything looked rugged, functional, and ugly.
    As soon as the door clamped shut, the normal lights came on, bright, yellowed, and blinding. After a moment I started to hear a low hissing emanating from a ceiling vent.
    Hearing?
    I quickly looked at my internal monitors for confirmation, which showed the airlock was filling with a mixture of mostly nitrogen, carbon, and oxygen in proportions that might have been