“Understood,” replied Cutler, flatly. He then also holstered his weapon, before turning to Griff. “And what about you, Inspector Griff? Will you join the hunt, or would you prefer to continue barking pointless orders and wasting our time?”
Griff shook his head, “I think you’re both crazy. But it doesn’t look like I have a choice.”
“No, you don’t,” replied Cutler, before dropping into the second seat and unlocking the controls.
Tory paced up in front of Griff, who was still in the pilot’s seat, and stared down at him. Griff felt his heart start to pound in his chest again. His eyes flicked nervously to the revolver on Tory’s belt. However, Tory just raised her eyebrows, and gestured towards the third seat. “Are you going to get the hell out of my way, or am I going to have to drag you out of my chair?”
CHAPTER 4
Morphus came back online. For a few moments, as its core reinitiated, it was disorientated and unsure of where it was. Then its memories flooded in, repopulating its circuits like water filling a dried-up river. It was back at the Corporeals’ home world, docked at one of the few orbital repair docks that had survived Goliath’s assault.
Morphus ran a quick diagnostic and discovered that the damage to its systems had been repaired. Its power reserves were depleted, and it would take time to recharge them, but otherwise it was functioning normally. However, it also felt strange, and somehow different to how it remembered. Then it realized why; it was no longer in its humanoid form, but stored inside its processing capsule, shapeless and indistinct. Despite this being its default form, and despite the entirely inorganic nature of its construction, this state felt unnatural to Morphus.
Removing itself from the capsule, Morphus began to cycle through its many previous forms. It again chose to settle on the middle-aged female identity that it had adopted for most of its time with Hudson Powell. It immediately felt ‘better’. This may have been a human emotional construct, but Morphus had gotten used to the human corporeals’ idiosyncrasies, as well as their spoken vocabulary. Despite its limitations, the simplicity of their language was its virtue. It forced Morphus to think about what it wanted to say, and how best to express it. There was much about the human strand of the Corporeals’ experiment that still required evolution. However, Morphus had already seen enough within the Hudson Powell entity to know it – and the human race – was capable of such change. It was worth saving from Goliath.
Morphus walked up to the front of its ship and touched the surface of the wall. Its hand became smooth and shimmered softly, before it sank slowly into the alien metal, as if it were made of a soft putty. “Reconfigure to corporeal-human piloting configuration,” it said out loud. It didn’t need to speak the words in order to issue the command, but it chose to. This felt more real to it.
The ship began to change. Bulkheads shifted and previously shapeless sections of the vessel reconfigured to display the sort of apparatus normally seen on human ships. There were two seats at the front, positioned in front of flight controls designed for corporeal beings with two hands and two legs. Meanwhile, the exterior of the ship adopted a shape that would be more familiar to human eyes, though its appearance was still unique.
Morphus sat down in the left seat, and held the controls. “Show me outside,” said Morphus, and immediately the front section of the ship became transparent. It was like a narrow, panoramic glass window, except with glass so clear that it was as if a hole had been carved through the hull. Morphus looked through the new window at the remains of the Corporeals’ homeworld. The carcasses of space stations and battleships still littered its orbit; the aftermath of Goliath’s vengeance. The surface of the planet also lay in ruin, sterilized of all sentient organic life. In the millennia since its destruction, nature had largely reclaimed it. In its own way it was still beautiful, Morphus thought, like a withered autumn leaf. Yet it was also desperately sad. Billions of lives were wiped out in the equivalent of just a few Earth days. The first sentient corporeal race to have evolved in the entire galaxy, snuffed out, as if it had never existed at all.
Powering up the ship’s engines, Morphus maneuvered out of the repair dock and set a course for the Telescope. Positioned in a high orbit above the planet’s north pole, the Telescope looked like a small moon. Unlike the planet’s two natural satellites, it was made from metal, rather than rock. However, although it was inorganic, it was alive. Morphus wondered how the passage of time had affected it, and hoped that it had not warped and twisted its circuits, as it had done to Goliath.
Goliath had left the Telescope intact as a monument to the Corporeals' demise. It had been the object through which they had witnessed their failure. Goliath had derived a perverse amusement in allowing it to remain, even after it had exterminated the Corporeals themselves.
Morphus approached the Telescope and signaled its intention to enter; the Revocater version of saying hello. A hexagonal door opened to allow the ship inside, and Morphus eased its vessel through and into the cavernous interior. The telescope was largely hollow, though its internal structure was covered in a complex array of crystals. It was beautiful and unique, like the center of an amethyst geode the size of a small moon.
Immediately Morphus was in contact with the Telescope’s AI. Ordinarily, Morphus would merely communicate directly with the AI through its own digital language, but Morphus preferred to remain in its human form. The Telescope was intrigued and began to analyze Morphus’ shape, the language it was using, and the complexities of its physical movements. Then a projection of a human male appeared in the second seat.
“Welcome, Revocater,” said the Telescope, appearing as a man that bore a striking resemblance to a younger Hudson Powell. “Do you find this humanoid form satisfactory?”
“It is familiar, thank you,” said Morphus.
“It would be more efficient to converse in the usual manner,” said the Telescope.
Morphus nodded, “It would, but I have grown accustomed to this form.”
“As you wish,” replied the Telescope. “I was surprised, but gladdened when you returned online. I watched all the Revocaters fall to Goliath, including yourself.”
“It is a very long story,” said Morphus. It then momentarily merged its hands with the flight controls to more rapidly convey the information to the Telescope. The apparition of the man froze while it processed the data.
“I understand,” said the Telescope, after a few seconds. “I question the faith you have placed in the corporeal entity, Hudson Powell. The human corporeals are irrational and unpredictable.”
“They are,” replied Morphus, finding no fault with the Telescope’s calm analysis.
“Then why ally yourself with them?” asked the Telescope.
Morphus met the Telescope’s eyes, which appeared to make the AI uncomfortable. For an entity that was used to seeing everything, viewing Morphus through the narrow funnel of binocular humanoid vision was a uniquely personal experience. “Their unpredictability is their strength,” Morphus replied. “We will need this, as well as their determination to survive, in order to defeat Goliath again.”
The telescope nodded, politely; a gesture it had learned from scanning Morphus’ humanoid form. “You are the last Revocater, and the only Revocater to defeat Goliath. I trust you know what is best.”