No Guardian, I

Part 16

It wasn't easy for Jasker to accept that he died, if even for a second. It was written all over his face, ingrained in his sluggish movements and apathic reactions to the instructions Alyona gave him.

He walked with them, alright, carrying his share of the load along with the Fallen, and followed her word to the letter - but he was not here. She could tell. She had seen this exact expression in men and women who witnessed something horrible and had to come to terms with their own mortality. It was the same for her unit in the early days, before the Sigrun were established, when the early AI prototypes went haywire and massacred entire research stations.

It was never their fault, really. Their creators expected the AI, somehow, to take everything in stride, when in truth, they created developed, emotional, intelligence without the years of smoothing on the sharp edges that the humans benefited from. Try making a toddler solve complex mathematical problems. Even if he has the necessary skills and capabilities, he's simply not ready. He'd be more interested in running around and exploring his world. Try to force him - and he'll throw a fit.

Now give that toddler a mechanical body with the strength of three men...

The survivors of the first AI incident - four researchers and barely half the platoon that has been sent in to contain the damage - were similarly shocked once the adrenaline wore off. Alyona went through the same period of apathy and denial, and remembered how hard it has been. She decided not to push on Jas.

The Fallen, though... that was an entirely different story. This one was curious and, as far as she could tell, friendlier than the ones they encountered before. He did not try to kill them when he had the chance, for one. He, basically, saved them when he made the ship roll around. He even dragged them from the Skiff when she lost consciousness after the second impact. Not that it was needed - the weird craft was sturdy enough not to explode after crashing. She wondered what hit them. The sound was an awful lot like a ground-air rocket.

She shrugged, moving the weight of her pack around on her shoulders and trying to make it rest more on her hips.

The Fallen, marching before her, turned to her and chattered something. He then put two fingers to the corners of his maw and drew them up, as if to indicate a grin.

"He's saying it's nice to walk with humans and learn from them," translated Glazok. "And I think he just smiled."

Alyona smiled back.

"It's nice to have met you too. Sorry for the headsmack."

The Ghost projected a series of symbols in the air. The Fallen thought for a second and shook his head, the gesture clearly unfamiliar to him. He chattered something else.

"He's saying it was nothing but a wake-up call."

"If that's a joke, it's weirder than any of mine."

The Ghost chuckled.

"Yes, I guess it is."

"How's Jasker?" she asked.

"Physically - perfectly fine. Not a single bruise or scratch. Psychologically... can't say for sure, it's like his personality has retracted way back to its happy place. And he's practically brimming with Light. Speaking of which - so are you. We should teach you how to use it."

"What's this Light, exactly?"

The Ghost fell silent for a moment. The tweeting of birds and the rush of a gentle wind through the tall trees offset the god-awful noise of cracking twigs and swishing bushes that the Fallen and Jasker were making. Alyona sighed. They had no training at all. How did the kid even survive to meet her?

She called him the kid, even though he appeared to be about the same age as her. It was just this something about him...

"Well, the Light is kind of like energy that can be shaped by a will. What I can still access from the first Guardian files speaks of them simply willing things into existence. Like the knives some of the scouts use - I've never seen anyone go and retrieve his blade after a throw. The knife is somehow always there. Same goes for most of the grenades. Those are, basically, Light wound into a shape and primed to release a burst of energy on the Guardian's mark. There are more complex constructs, of course, but those are unstable..."

"I think I lost you at the returning knives. So you're saying, if I concentrate really, really hard, my da's knife, the one that I lost in the taiga when I was a kid, will magically... oh holy crap."

A twenty-centimeter blade with a simple wooden grip coalesced in her extended palm.

"Well, would you look at that. Is it real?"

"Real enough to cut with as long as you keep your mind on it," answered the Ghost. "The same way, anything you can think of will be real as long as you don't lose focus. Guardians infuse Light in their armor to ward off incoming fire, recover from injuries in seconds, even fly, hover and teleport short distances if their will is strong enough."

"I see why memories might get in the way," she said. "This knife is just the way I remember it, but it's not the same. It feels different."

"Because that's a simulacrum generated by your mind. Many Guardians create constructs only as one-use items that they then re-create - like the grenades, for instance, or that cool handgun Jaren Ward used when he needed something brought down fast. I remember it only having three shots, but those could punch through a Walker's armour and detonate its core. Generally, Guardians use existing, physical objects and strengthen them with their Light."

"So if I wanted, I could make my rifle shoot lightning?"

"Yes. But it would have required a lot of concentration. It would be simpler to use Arc-charged rounds."

"Huh," she said. "Neat."

Then the Fallen, walking at the head of the small column, was buried under the frenzied shape of a much larger Eliksni clad in a tattered cloak and missing two of his four arms.

Alyona did not remember running to his help. One second, she was throwing off her backpack, the next - she kneed the attacker off Yaltrik and into a tree trunk ten meters away. It rose, slowly, the eye-slits in its tall helm burning a deep, almost black purple. The same substance oozed from the stumps of its upper right and lower left arms. It looked misshapen, pained and very, very angry.

It bellowed a warcry and threw itself at Alyona.

***

//Are you happy, oh Captain mine?//

//Feel... strong... hunt.//

//Hunt dead thing, yes? Hunt your betrayer?//

//Unintelligible bellows of rage, followed by the sound of a being running off into the distance.//

//Hunt well, oh Captain mine. Snuff the Light. Exact the vengeance I do not dare, yes?//