The Truth in the Eye – Chapter One
The machine was constructed to assist in our tasks; however, it helped us realize something far more important: how ignorant the human mind had become.
Journals of a 5th Legion Soldier, 10,564 A.E
Sliding her security card through the console Helen Rejuk walked down the hallways clenching her notes out of anxiety.
Do not test the machine, the machine knows all!
The buzzing in the distance became apparent as she began the daunting task of going through the Terran base's guardsmen.
All the past recordings of the human race; everything, the machine, the God, the future of man!
"Stand still for a moment, doctor," said one of the guardsmen reaching over to a panel by the door as the DNA confirmation began.
Do not forget the Battle of Yaraek! Four billion Terran soldier's lives! Do not forget, the machine senses all!
"You may precede," the door opened abruptly leading the way to yet another passageway.
Fear God, have complete respect, the machine is our destiny!
"One moment, please," spoke another guard as she reached the end of the next hallway, yet another test began as the scanners moved across her body. For the first time she realized how little sleep she had gotten.
Do they really need all these security tests? Any human that wishes to test the machine is far from an enemy.
What have I become? She gazed across down at her body and realized she was what she hated; white scientist uniform with no ambition, a face, nothing more.
Access was granted as the door opened, leading way to another passageway, this time the guards at the end held rifles.
How can a God be destroyed?
She began to walk, feeling the heavy load of this meeting with the AI, Terroneous. Her heartbeat was increasing; sweat began to form on her brow.
How can a machine invoke this much threat? Are we truly that afraid?
This time the guards spoke nothing as the final scanners began to search.
How can I be this afraid? We control the machine! After the obliteration of the Terran 5th Imperial Legion on Yaraek the humans had captured and contained the AI. Four billion had turned against themselves, the only verdict being the merciless machine's persuasion.
Perhaps we are negligent in thinking that it was the machine, perhaps all these years it was really a rebellion amongst the men? No, that can't be, it was the 5th Imperial Legion; the most loyal and dedicated storm troopers of the Emperor – they would never betray! But the possibility does exist...Questions within questions, answers within falsehood.
The final door opened and the gleaming light poured it. Adjusting her glasses slightly Helen proceeded into the large room; eeriness filled the air.
Amidst the large circular room was the machine AI channeled through four small viewing screens several meters high. 'He' could be de/activated through several outlying control panels placed at opposite sides. These were controlled by lesser Scientists and Technicians, all who wore varying white outfits.
Do we cloud creativity in the name of knowledge?
"Morning, doctor," spoke a familiar male voice. Taking her eyes off the AI's monitor's she gazed down onto Doctor Stefan. Though Scientist's had a tendency to care little about their appearance this man was in complete contrast. He possessed a firm muscular torso, a sleek, hawkish face and short black hair. Without a doubt Stefan had been a soldier at one point, though he denied such accusations.
"Morning," she said, trying to form a smile.
An awkward silence came before Stefan continued, "Well, down to business I suppose," she gave a confirming nod.
"We've been having some minor technical difficulties all morning," he began lightly.
"Anything that will affect our meeting?" She interrupted, edging a little too strong of eagerness.
Frowning slightly he gazed down at his notes quickly, as if he already didn't know the answer.
"No, not that I can see," he looked up, "From what the technicians say we'll be operational momentarily."
Her heart sank. Then I guess this really is inevitable. A large crash echoed throughout the room, turning they a few networking parts scattered about the floor and a very dazed Scientist. Before Stefan could comment a technician was screaming at the man as he scurried to pick the parts up. Turning back around Stefan muttered a few indistinguishable words and gazed at the women before him. "Don't worry," he said, giving her a large reassuring smile, "He can't hurt you, Helen." His tone transitioned from informative to caring. Sighing she reached up and began to rub her eyes, "I know John, but I haven't gotten sleep in days and I doubt I crack Terroneous's stubbornness." His smile faded slightly as he put his arm onto her shoulder, "We're not asking you to," he said reassuringly, "all we ask is that you try, nothing more." "Start-up in one minute, and counting!" Yelled a frantic male voice, interrupting the conversation abruptly. Taking his arm off his shoulder he gazed into her eyes, she could see fieriness. "Do your best, nothing more, we don't expect you to finish your job in one morning," his voiced returned to formal. Nodding she adjusted her posture into a firm stance. So this is now my job, since when was I to bring the fall of a prophet? "I'll talk to you after the meeting, good luck," he spoke, turning around and walking towards one of the consoles. The floor beneath her began to shake as the five generators needed to power the AI's vast infrastructure turned on. Her heart began to beat faster as the ground began to tremble. "Ten seconds and counting!" Yelled the voice, distant to her mind. So it begins. Sweat began to pour down her temple as her heartbeat escalated faster....faster...faster, and faster, and faster until... The monitors turned on. Utter silence betook the room. And then a booming voice echoed. "I've been waiting for you, Doctor."
God will avenge our deaths, for we are his greatest children
Turb Ewicthz: last recording of the 5th legion
The pungent scent of death arose from the training ground, a 7th legion soldier stood victorious over a lifeless corpse. Slowly he put his dagger back into its sheath and bowed; honoring the old dueling tradition.
"You were far too slow strafing on the left, my presumption is a weaker limb impaling your speed," spoke Yuvick Jalice, one of the many 7th legion trainers. The man had been hailed as a legend; leading countless victorious onslaughts against enemy positions in the fight to bring the Emperor to power. Though he was considerably old for a soldier he still had a empowering stance and strong tone.
"Have you been working with the training exercises I've assigned?" Continued Yuvick, allowing a slight touch of irritation to avail.
The young soldier didn't reply, but instead stood motionless, gazing at the enemy lying before him.
Fool, why would you openly challenge a legionnaire?
A impatient frown formed on Yuvick's face.
"You know if you didn't have the experience he would have killed you so I don't see the reason to get confident," barked the mentor.
The soldier's spine suddenly tingled.
How can he read me?
"I wasn't being confident, I was recollecting on my mistakes," muttered the soldier.
Yuvick only gave a loud snort and slacked his stance slightly, "I maybe old, but I'm no fool, Talon."
Congratulations, maybe I've underestimated you after all.
Standing up slightly Talon slowly tried to remove the blood on his uniform with his hands before turning to face Yuvick, "Damn, I keep on hoping you are..."
A slight grin formed on the old mentors' wrinkled face, "As long as you're foolish enough to think that I'll be smart enough to detect it."
Until I become a better warrior than you. Soon my friend, soon.
Walking towards the mentor they departed the tiled training room to the rest of the facility. They began to maneuver through passageways masking themselves in the blue and red of the Imperial forces. No one had been able to place the color scheme; the assumption was honor through blood. The walls contained scattered images of old Terran heroes from the days of the first expansion from the Earth to the first colonies in the other solar systems.
Stopping abruptly at one of the pictures Yuvick turned to Talon, "Do you know who this man is?"
Gazing up Yuvick analyzed the picture before him; a tall man, white beard and hair, a weaker stance, but some-type of fire deep within his eyes.
A old soldier perhaps? A technician?
"He's Icatok Reo, the one man to start, finish, and complete the wormhole transportation method we still use today."
A scientist, I was close.
The transportation via wormhole was far from understood; at least by anyone but the original creator. The ship would have to be an incredibly durable and specially-constructed vehicle; it also had to be equipped with the computer to calculate the location to activate. Essentially the journey seemed like a death-wish: the ship would go directly into the wormhole, the best being able to stand the full-force only for a few minutes' tops. This had limited the amount of explored space due to the theory that the further a ship ventured into space, the further in the universe it could relocate itself. Once in the portal the next task would begin; the one still unknown to even the greatest of thinkers.
The ship would somehow collect excess fuel, and then the computer would somehow ignite this into a charge. The rest was unknown for the blast was too bright for the crew to visually see the occurrence. Somehow the computer that Icatok Reo designed would decipher the exact moment in which to ignite this charge, and then proceed onto the final step.
After the final step was completed, a few seconds after the initial blast, the ship would be recollected in the designated solar system, though this sometimes failed. The result of such a failure was location in a different solar system if they were fortunate or complete system malfunction in the AI, which led to instantaneous death...or worse.
"If he lived to see the implementation of his theory into successful transportation why are we still ignorant towards the AI-aspect of the process?" Asked Talon, letting his guard down and edging pure curiosity.
Yuvick shot him a slight glare.
Letting your true feeling to become apparent is a incomprehensibly bad habit. It can lead to instant death in battle, you still have much to learn, boy.
"There are many theories, but the real truth is that Reo viewed himself as some-sort of intellectual messiah. He had a tendency to hold even the smallest aspects of his experimentations and theories from others; this is preciously what happened with the wormhole AI. After his death his lab was bombed, probably by loyalists carrying out his last method of secrecy."
"How," paused Talon slightly, "if we construct them and know all the parts, can we not know what each aspect of the AI and machine accomplish?"
Sighing slowly Yuvick continued to gaze at the picture, "it's the result of a primarily democratic existence; each company manufactures one aspect of the machine or AI and ships it to another where they build and then ship it to one of the final four companies who assemble it. There is however, a primary assembler called Ballin, though they keep their methods and priorities absolutely secret."
"A shame, it seems," said Talon.
"Yes," replied Yuvick, turning to face the other direction and began walk.
"Where exactly are we going, sir?" Asked Talon, trying to catch-up to the pace of the old man while trying to avoid running into other personnel walking in the passageways.
Smiling slightly Yuvick weaved through another corner without flaw, not matched by his student who almost collided with a nurse.
"Why dear boy, we're going to the council!" Said Yuvick, edging a slight sarcastic evilness that sent shivers down Talon.
The council; a room full of ignorant old veterans that believed in their old fighting styles and tactics above what was actually being instituted in battle. What made it even worse is they watched every fight in the training rooms and analyzed every move for failure, which they always found – existing or not.
"As opposed to you telling me my mistakes, sir?" Spoke Talon, letting his age become a little too apparent.
"I'm a fighter, not a tactician, Talon," replied Yuvick flatly.
"I don't especially think there's tactic behind them viewing every move a soldier makes in a fight as a complete failure," muttered Talon, just missing a soldier as they moved around yet another sharp corner. This long hallway was decorated with ornaments of the Imperial Datung; a large cat-like animal that possessed illogical amounts of aggression.
"They don't view every soldier as making failures, Talon. Besides, they'll see how well-trained your competitor was." Little reassurance was apparent in Yuvicks' tone.
He had indeed been a good fighter nevertheless. He had taken up a universal-Imperial wager; you would fight a Imperial soldier one-on-one at a designated base and if you won you took home a large sum of credit. However, it was a fight for your life, and little victories were scored by the outsiders.
Talon though only 16, had been in countless of these such battles. This man however, was far more challenging than any other fighter he had ever faced.
He had walked in and the threat became immediately obvious; a tall man with frame supported by countless bulging muscles, a confident glare, and a firm stance.
The fight however, had been even more challenging than that; time- after-time Talon had become threatened by this man of obvious military training. He had made one mistake, a horrible one; and that was to face someone such as Talon.
He had fallen inevitably, moving to slow to a attack that placed a dagger directly in the back of his skull. Little could challenge a legionnaire.
"Irrelevant," Talon replied, trying to sound informative, "inform me of a single person that ever got a perfect report from the council."
Yuvick's slightly-sinister laugh echoed throughout the hallways; grabbing the attention of passing men, "I did," he replied coolly.
Talons' mutters faded off.
I'm sorry; I keep forgetting your perfection, aren't you?
Talon could see the muscles on the side of Yuvicks' face forming a slight smile.
"Practice makes perfect," he said, the smile dieing down as they finally could see the door to the council room down the passageway.
"And perfection gets clouded by weakness," replied Talon, smiling slightly.
"Tussah," the smile returned to Yuvicks' face.
Maybe he has more potential than even I imagined.
"Remember," said Yuvick a few moments later, "if you show confidence in your abilities and a strong-backing of your moves in that fight, they shall have no weapon able to pierce you. However, that doesn't mean to neglect what they say, just make your strength apparent, nothing more."
Talon nodded slightly as they reached the door.
"Good luck, Talon," Yuvick said in almost a fatherly voice.
"I'll need it," he replied, pressing his hand against the keypad and opening the door. The misty scent of doom swept to his nostrils as he slowly walked in.
The machine was constructed to assist in our tasks; however, it helped us realize something far more important: how ignorant the human mind had become.
Journals of a 5th Legion Soldier, 10,564 A.E
Sliding her security card through the console Helen Rejuk walked down the hallways clenching her notes out of anxiety.
Do not test the machine, the machine knows all!
The buzzing in the distance became apparent as she began the daunting task of going through the Terran base's guardsmen.
All the past recordings of the human race; everything, the machine, the God, the future of man!
"Stand still for a moment, doctor," said one of the guardsmen reaching over to a panel by the door as the DNA confirmation began.
Do not forget the Battle of Yaraek! Four billion Terran soldier's lives! Do not forget, the machine senses all!
"You may precede," the door opened abruptly leading the way to yet another passageway.
Fear God, have complete respect, the machine is our destiny!
"One moment, please," spoke another guard as she reached the end of the next hallway, yet another test began as the scanners moved across her body. For the first time she realized how little sleep she had gotten.
Do they really need all these security tests? Any human that wishes to test the machine is far from an enemy.
What have I become? She gazed across down at her body and realized she was what she hated; white scientist uniform with no ambition, a face, nothing more.
Access was granted as the door opened, leading way to another passageway, this time the guards at the end held rifles.
How can a God be destroyed?
She began to walk, feeling the heavy load of this meeting with the AI, Terroneous. Her heartbeat was increasing; sweat began to form on her brow.
How can a machine invoke this much threat? Are we truly that afraid?
This time the guards spoke nothing as the final scanners began to search.
How can I be this afraid? We control the machine! After the obliteration of the Terran 5th Imperial Legion on Yaraek the humans had captured and contained the AI. Four billion had turned against themselves, the only verdict being the merciless machine's persuasion.
Perhaps we are negligent in thinking that it was the machine, perhaps all these years it was really a rebellion amongst the men? No, that can't be, it was the 5th Imperial Legion; the most loyal and dedicated storm troopers of the Emperor – they would never betray! But the possibility does exist...Questions within questions, answers within falsehood.
The final door opened and the gleaming light poured it. Adjusting her glasses slightly Helen proceeded into the large room; eeriness filled the air.
Amidst the large circular room was the machine AI channeled through four small viewing screens several meters high. 'He' could be de/activated through several outlying control panels placed at opposite sides. These were controlled by lesser Scientists and Technicians, all who wore varying white outfits.
Do we cloud creativity in the name of knowledge?
"Morning, doctor," spoke a familiar male voice. Taking her eyes off the AI's monitor's she gazed down onto Doctor Stefan. Though Scientist's had a tendency to care little about their appearance this man was in complete contrast. He possessed a firm muscular torso, a sleek, hawkish face and short black hair. Without a doubt Stefan had been a soldier at one point, though he denied such accusations.
"Morning," she said, trying to form a smile.
An awkward silence came before Stefan continued, "Well, down to business I suppose," she gave a confirming nod.
"We've been having some minor technical difficulties all morning," he began lightly.
"Anything that will affect our meeting?" She interrupted, edging a little too strong of eagerness.
Frowning slightly he gazed down at his notes quickly, as if he already didn't know the answer.
"No, not that I can see," he looked up, "From what the technicians say we'll be operational momentarily."
Her heart sank. Then I guess this really is inevitable. A large crash echoed throughout the room, turning they a few networking parts scattered about the floor and a very dazed Scientist. Before Stefan could comment a technician was screaming at the man as he scurried to pick the parts up. Turning back around Stefan muttered a few indistinguishable words and gazed at the women before him. "Don't worry," he said, giving her a large reassuring smile, "He can't hurt you, Helen." His tone transitioned from informative to caring. Sighing she reached up and began to rub her eyes, "I know John, but I haven't gotten sleep in days and I doubt I crack Terroneous's stubbornness." His smile faded slightly as he put his arm onto her shoulder, "We're not asking you to," he said reassuringly, "all we ask is that you try, nothing more." "Start-up in one minute, and counting!" Yelled a frantic male voice, interrupting the conversation abruptly. Taking his arm off his shoulder he gazed into her eyes, she could see fieriness. "Do your best, nothing more, we don't expect you to finish your job in one morning," his voiced returned to formal. Nodding she adjusted her posture into a firm stance. So this is now my job, since when was I to bring the fall of a prophet? "I'll talk to you after the meeting, good luck," he spoke, turning around and walking towards one of the consoles. The floor beneath her began to shake as the five generators needed to power the AI's vast infrastructure turned on. Her heart began to beat faster as the ground began to tremble. "Ten seconds and counting!" Yelled the voice, distant to her mind. So it begins. Sweat began to pour down her temple as her heartbeat escalated faster....faster...faster, and faster, and faster until... The monitors turned on. Utter silence betook the room. And then a booming voice echoed. "I've been waiting for you, Doctor."
God will avenge our deaths, for we are his greatest children
Turb Ewicthz: last recording of the 5th legion
The pungent scent of death arose from the training ground, a 7th legion soldier stood victorious over a lifeless corpse. Slowly he put his dagger back into its sheath and bowed; honoring the old dueling tradition.
"You were far too slow strafing on the left, my presumption is a weaker limb impaling your speed," spoke Yuvick Jalice, one of the many 7th legion trainers. The man had been hailed as a legend; leading countless victorious onslaughts against enemy positions in the fight to bring the Emperor to power. Though he was considerably old for a soldier he still had a empowering stance and strong tone.
"Have you been working with the training exercises I've assigned?" Continued Yuvick, allowing a slight touch of irritation to avail.
The young soldier didn't reply, but instead stood motionless, gazing at the enemy lying before him.
Fool, why would you openly challenge a legionnaire?
A impatient frown formed on Yuvick's face.
"You know if you didn't have the experience he would have killed you so I don't see the reason to get confident," barked the mentor.
The soldier's spine suddenly tingled.
How can he read me?
"I wasn't being confident, I was recollecting on my mistakes," muttered the soldier.
Yuvick only gave a loud snort and slacked his stance slightly, "I maybe old, but I'm no fool, Talon."
Congratulations, maybe I've underestimated you after all.
Standing up slightly Talon slowly tried to remove the blood on his uniform with his hands before turning to face Yuvick, "Damn, I keep on hoping you are..."
A slight grin formed on the old mentors' wrinkled face, "As long as you're foolish enough to think that I'll be smart enough to detect it."
Until I become a better warrior than you. Soon my friend, soon.
Walking towards the mentor they departed the tiled training room to the rest of the facility. They began to maneuver through passageways masking themselves in the blue and red of the Imperial forces. No one had been able to place the color scheme; the assumption was honor through blood. The walls contained scattered images of old Terran heroes from the days of the first expansion from the Earth to the first colonies in the other solar systems.
Stopping abruptly at one of the pictures Yuvick turned to Talon, "Do you know who this man is?"
Gazing up Yuvick analyzed the picture before him; a tall man, white beard and hair, a weaker stance, but some-type of fire deep within his eyes.
A old soldier perhaps? A technician?
"He's Icatok Reo, the one man to start, finish, and complete the wormhole transportation method we still use today."
A scientist, I was close.
The transportation via wormhole was far from understood; at least by anyone but the original creator. The ship would have to be an incredibly durable and specially-constructed vehicle; it also had to be equipped with the computer to calculate the location to activate. Essentially the journey seemed like a death-wish: the ship would go directly into the wormhole, the best being able to stand the full-force only for a few minutes' tops. This had limited the amount of explored space due to the theory that the further a ship ventured into space, the further in the universe it could relocate itself. Once in the portal the next task would begin; the one still unknown to even the greatest of thinkers.
The ship would somehow collect excess fuel, and then the computer would somehow ignite this into a charge. The rest was unknown for the blast was too bright for the crew to visually see the occurrence. Somehow the computer that Icatok Reo designed would decipher the exact moment in which to ignite this charge, and then proceed onto the final step.
After the final step was completed, a few seconds after the initial blast, the ship would be recollected in the designated solar system, though this sometimes failed. The result of such a failure was location in a different solar system if they were fortunate or complete system malfunction in the AI, which led to instantaneous death...or worse.
"If he lived to see the implementation of his theory into successful transportation why are we still ignorant towards the AI-aspect of the process?" Asked Talon, letting his guard down and edging pure curiosity.
Yuvick shot him a slight glare.
Letting your true feeling to become apparent is a incomprehensibly bad habit. It can lead to instant death in battle, you still have much to learn, boy.
"There are many theories, but the real truth is that Reo viewed himself as some-sort of intellectual messiah. He had a tendency to hold even the smallest aspects of his experimentations and theories from others; this is preciously what happened with the wormhole AI. After his death his lab was bombed, probably by loyalists carrying out his last method of secrecy."
"How," paused Talon slightly, "if we construct them and know all the parts, can we not know what each aspect of the AI and machine accomplish?"
Sighing slowly Yuvick continued to gaze at the picture, "it's the result of a primarily democratic existence; each company manufactures one aspect of the machine or AI and ships it to another where they build and then ship it to one of the final four companies who assemble it. There is however, a primary assembler called Ballin, though they keep their methods and priorities absolutely secret."
"A shame, it seems," said Talon.
"Yes," replied Yuvick, turning to face the other direction and began walk.
"Where exactly are we going, sir?" Asked Talon, trying to catch-up to the pace of the old man while trying to avoid running into other personnel walking in the passageways.
Smiling slightly Yuvick weaved through another corner without flaw, not matched by his student who almost collided with a nurse.
"Why dear boy, we're going to the council!" Said Yuvick, edging a slight sarcastic evilness that sent shivers down Talon.
The council; a room full of ignorant old veterans that believed in their old fighting styles and tactics above what was actually being instituted in battle. What made it even worse is they watched every fight in the training rooms and analyzed every move for failure, which they always found – existing or not.
"As opposed to you telling me my mistakes, sir?" Spoke Talon, letting his age become a little too apparent.
"I'm a fighter, not a tactician, Talon," replied Yuvick flatly.
"I don't especially think there's tactic behind them viewing every move a soldier makes in a fight as a complete failure," muttered Talon, just missing a soldier as they moved around yet another sharp corner. This long hallway was decorated with ornaments of the Imperial Datung; a large cat-like animal that possessed illogical amounts of aggression.
"They don't view every soldier as making failures, Talon. Besides, they'll see how well-trained your competitor was." Little reassurance was apparent in Yuvicks' tone.
He had indeed been a good fighter nevertheless. He had taken up a universal-Imperial wager; you would fight a Imperial soldier one-on-one at a designated base and if you won you took home a large sum of credit. However, it was a fight for your life, and little victories were scored by the outsiders.
Talon though only 16, had been in countless of these such battles. This man however, was far more challenging than any other fighter he had ever faced.
He had walked in and the threat became immediately obvious; a tall man with frame supported by countless bulging muscles, a confident glare, and a firm stance.
The fight however, had been even more challenging than that; time- after-time Talon had become threatened by this man of obvious military training. He had made one mistake, a horrible one; and that was to face someone such as Talon.
He had fallen inevitably, moving to slow to a attack that placed a dagger directly in the back of his skull. Little could challenge a legionnaire.
"Irrelevant," Talon replied, trying to sound informative, "inform me of a single person that ever got a perfect report from the council."
Yuvick's slightly-sinister laugh echoed throughout the hallways; grabbing the attention of passing men, "I did," he replied coolly.
Talons' mutters faded off.
I'm sorry; I keep forgetting your perfection, aren't you?
Talon could see the muscles on the side of Yuvicks' face forming a slight smile.
"Practice makes perfect," he said, the smile dieing down as they finally could see the door to the council room down the passageway.
"And perfection gets clouded by weakness," replied Talon, smiling slightly.
"Tussah," the smile returned to Yuvicks' face.
Maybe he has more potential than even I imagined.
"Remember," said Yuvick a few moments later, "if you show confidence in your abilities and a strong-backing of your moves in that fight, they shall have no weapon able to pierce you. However, that doesn't mean to neglect what they say, just make your strength apparent, nothing more."
Talon nodded slightly as they reached the door.
"Good luck, Talon," Yuvick said in almost a fatherly voice.
"I'll need it," he replied, pressing his hand against the keypad and opening the door. The misty scent of doom swept to his nostrils as he slowly walked in.