PROLOGUE

BOOK 3

***

One of the Watcher’s saw it: there was a light, where there should have been none.

Four bright, white strings that flashed into existence, extending from the surface of four dark moons, down to an equally dark planet.

And then, gone.

That planet was supposed to be dead. All the planets in this sector were supposed to be void of life sapient life. The Sovereign had made sure of that, long ago.

Thus, the Watcher alerted the Sovereign. And thus, the Sovereign pulled its ponderous gaze towards the incident. And the Sovereign did begin to process.

There were many possibilities:

Could this be a simple solar flare? Viewed from an unlikely angle, caught in some astronomical anomaly?

No. Too strong. Too bright. This incident was not a natural light. It was, for certain, the true Light.

Perhaps there was another explanation. Perhaps, a new civilization, still climbing up from the primordial wastes of technological obscurity, had stumbled upon some ancient human artifact. And - either by accident, or through willful experimentation - instigated some form of release. Such as a fuel cell, malfunctioning. Or a generator, off-gassing the last of its reserves.

No. Too large. Too much Light.

And there was that cloud of Light residue, forever hovering in a spot near the equator of this planet.

Perhaps this was a trap. A puzzle, presented to the stars. Designed to be irresistible to the Sovereign. Yes. Possible. In addition, the humans had been fond of their traps, especially as the humans’ numbers dwindled.

But the Sovereign had not added to the Record in thousands of years.

And in all the time since the Sovereign had killed its last human, there had been no hint nor sign at all of any human activity. Nothing, since the final push against the world that belonged to Sen.

Why would a trap be sprung only now?

Exception, the Sovereign recalled. There was one hint, so minor it had been filed away in the deepest recesses of the Swarm’s memory. A Finder drone, designed for hunting down humans, had contacted one of the gates. Very recently. But the gate failed to connect. A glitch? An accident of the drone’s programming? There were hundreds of billions of Finders out there, scattered across the stars, so it wasn’t impossible for at least one drone to fault its programming.

Either way, the Light was an anomaly. One that could not be ignored. And if this was a trap? Then it would be worth the cost. The Record must grow.

So, the Sovereign sent the Watcher to investigate the planet.

And within moments of arriving in orbit, the Watcher discovered a problem.

This dark, distant planet was crawling with life. And more than just the usual variety of primitive locally-grown flora and fauna. Two civilizations were assembling on the surface. One that the Sovereign recognized. And one, that it did not.

Neither was supposed to be here. More worrisome, the four extractors in orbit - the four moons - around the planet had been activated recently, and there was no sign of destruction. Which meant something, down there, was on. Perhaps, whatever it was, still lay hidden in that wasteland of mist…

Somewhere, in the depths of the first Machine World, the Sovereign began to hum as it absorbed the reserves of energy around it. And it spoke across the vast void of space:

Watcher, deepen your investigations.

“Confirmed.” The Watcher said, trusting that its response would be caught instantly despite its vast distance from the Machine Worlds. “Energy allotment?”

The Sovereign answered with a single word: Full.

“Clutch is on route. Planet fall in seven days, three hours, seventeen minutes, and counting.”

Good.

The next seven days passed exactly as the previous ten-thousand years had passed. To the Sovereign, time was nothing more than a number. Another data point to consider.

But on the fourth day, the Sovereign entered the Watcher’s core, watching the carriers careen down to the planet, catching fire as they cut against the atmosphere. Eight streaks of flame, eight different directions. One moment, visible. And gone.

The two carriers that landed in the mist were lost immediately. The Sovereign could not determine if it was because of the clouds, technical errors, or something else.

The other six landed around the globe, three in the north, and three in the south.

One smacked into the side of a hill, cracking the white shale of the cliff. Another burrowed a black, steaming tunnel through the red-leafed canopy of the forest, frightening a flock of small birds that made a shrieking explosion out of the forest. Another carrier clapped against the murky surface of a stream, vomiting up dirt-colored water and mud.

According to the sensors, the gravity here was near-Earth, and each carrier was light enough to fly.

But when the first carrier unfurled, its energy readout was critical.

Wrong.

This Watcher had not been keeping its carriers up to code.

The Sovereign interrogated the Watcher:

Energy?

“My collectors expired.”

Maintenance?

“Delayed fourteen hundred thousand times.”

Reason?

“The code considered my replacements non-essential fourteen hundred thousand times. I obey the code.”

There was an error in the code, then.

But the Sovereign would not relay that information. That was dangerous.

Instead, it sent three of its own, personal Sweepers to identify the error. They scampered down from the Sovereign’s mind, down to the Server, searching through the tangles of logic to uncover how such an error could have originated.

In the meantime, the Sovereign gave the six remaining carriers a new set of orders.

Still scattered across the planet, the six carriers unfurled their bodies from the pods. Climbing out like enormous, stunted caterpillars emerging from their metal eggs. Crawling out, and up the trees. To the tips of the highest branches. Searching for light.

And when they found it, their glittering hides curled up to meet the sunlight, dull and red as it was. Slowly, their energy reserves filled.

Because time was of the essence, the Sovereign executed the next step before the carriers were fully charged.

They lifted their hides even higher, revealing hollow chambers filled with hundreds of tiny, curled-up bodies. Each one, a miniature replicas of a carrier. The replicas woke up with a furious buzzing. Hundreds of them, crawling out of each carrier’s body. Covering the branches as they spread out. The replicas unfurled their rigid, delicate wings, testing them against the breeze. Eight tiny repulsors engines glowed on their bellies as they basked in the light.

Then, pairs of them began to lift, their repulsors glowing brighter. Using their wings to glide in a coordinated swarm around the carriers. Then, in unison, all the replicas split up. Flying away in every direction.

In a matter of hours, the Sovereign had a new, complete map of the surface of the planet, save the mist wastelands, of course. And the sunken places protected by the exhaust.

The Sovereign’s drones also found two very curious things:

First, the children of Sen were here. Strange, to find them so far from their home. The lizard folk, the so-called Lassertane, it seemed, had crossed through some gate and settled on this planet. Worrisome.

But they were also being invaded by another species. That was the second curiosity - the invading force. At a physical level, this new species looked oddly familiar. Scales and fins suggested an aquatic splicing. But where the Lassertane retained so many of their reptilian attributes, these were almost…

Almost human.

This new species seemed to be at war with both the Lassertane and themselves.

Good.

That would, the Sovereign calculated, would make this enterprise much easier.

The Sovereign spoke to the Watcher once more:

Time?

The Watcher answered, “Planetary chemistry is suboptimal. Low density of ore deposits. Three factories per zone, maximum. Estimated time to establishment is six-hundred fifty-six days, fourteen hours, twenty-six minutes.”

No.

The Sovereign felt - as close as it could feel - a burning desire smoldering deep in the cores of its being. And it felt the Minds writhe and burn with it.

Not good enough.

“I do as the code commands,’ the Watcher replied.

Yes. You do.

It had been a long time since the Sovereign had changed the code. But this seemed worth it. The Record must grow.