Author's Notes: Interesting aside: according to Internet sources, the next episode of Dragons: RoB is titled "No Country For Old Dragons." Funny thing, I have a chapter in "I Bring The Thunder" titled "No Place For Old Dragons." I'm sure they have nothing in common, but it's still kind of funny that someone on the Dragons staff likes to play with titles like I do.
Incidentally, I did like "No Country For Old Men," though it definitely isn't for everybody (quite dark), and certainly not for kids. And somehow I don't think we'll be seeing an assassination dragon with a bolt gun show up in the cartoon.
Chapter Four: Proto
The Guardian-type thing was doing the one thing that Nestor had never believed possible among the ancient war machines of the Artisan Empire: it did nothing.
It stood there on its weird legs and stared at him unblinkingly with its trio of blue light-eyes, maintaining its impersonation of a statue sculpted by an artist with a distorted sense of reality. Nestor did his own impersonation, and for many anxiety-filled seconds there was only the staring contest between Nestor and the Guardian, neither one of them budging an inch.
Nestor had never had a Guardian not launch into a vicious assault from the get-go. That was what they were made for – destroying intruders who ventured into their Shadow Halls. Like the other one, this Guardian didn't see him as a threat, or at least not one to dispose of immediately. It probably saw him as a food source, him and his barrier field. You don't kill the cow you need the milk from, after all.
Yet this one wasn't attacking.
Getting, quite literally, his second wind, Nestor felt his ire begin to grow as time ticked on by. His field was not at full strength, but he was in better shape to take on this monstrosity than before his unwanted naptime. More importantly, he was sick and tired of this depressing cave and there was obviously a way out before him. The whys didn't matter anymore; he stopped caring roughly one bout of unconsciousness ago. He needed sunshine, food, water, a decent place to rest, and to find his torn-apart family.
All that required getting past the Guardian… or going through it.
Nestor slowly stood up and shunted power to both arms, the orange flicker in the cave shifting to a redder spectrum. The Guardian adjusted its head to follow Nestor, keeping the rest of its body motionless and unresponsive. It still didn't regard him as a threat. He was about to change that.
"Okay, you son-of-a-smelter, let's get on with it." He had no plan other than plain old charging, but sometimes that worked just fine. He took the first few steps at a slow gait, waiting to see how it would react as he closed in. Surely it saw him as a threat now, and Guardians didn't exactly think out sophisticated attack patterns. They didn't have any real brains to speak of.
The Guardian finally reacted… by scurrying backward on its insect-like legs like a frightened cockroach, straight down the newly uncovered tunnel. It matched Nestor's steps, maintaining the same distance away from him as before, its neck bending to keep its head-tentacle from banging into the ceiling. It stopped and resumed its staring contest with Nestor, its legs tensing for another run.
A whirlpool of confusion swirled in Nestor's brain as he came to an abrupt halt, half-consciously keeping an eye on the Guardian while he attempted to calm his thoughts. His body was pumped for battle and it was making clear thinking difficult. He took a few cleansing breaths, relishing the ability to breathe freely again, as he sorted out what he'd just seen.
A Guardian… had retreated from him.
He had assumed that the first one had simply gotten what it needed from him but had different orders to carry out that trumped attacking intruders. That was why it didn't kill him when it had the chance. This one wasn't even trying to act like a Guardian. If he didn't know any better, it acted almost afraid of him, and Guardians didn't feel fear. They didn't have the wants and needs of flesh-and-blood creatures, no emotions, no original thought other than the orders given to them by their long-dead creators. They had no sense of self-preservation, and the only time a Guardian broke off its assault was when it was ordered to do so by a controlling force, such as when Cervantes had taken over the Monolith.
There was no point in making a Guardian that didn't guard. They always attacked. Always.
"Are you actually a Guardian?" he said to the might-be-a-Guardian. It didn't answer. Big shock. But for all the intrigue this generated, Nestor still wasn't in a very investigative mood. In fact, by fleeing from him the thing had given Nestor the solution to his current problem.
Nestor took a step forward. The Guardian took a step backward. Nestor took two, and the Guardian did likewise. Five steps for Nestor, five for the machine. It was keeping perfect distance with him, something only a calculating machine could pull off.
Always backward.
Nestor found himself giggling with relief and let his field drop back to non-combat status. As long as this thing wanted to keep its distance, he was in good shape. He might have some enigmatic company on his way out of the cavern, but it was a step up from hostile company.
Nestor walked casually into the tunnel, the Guardian leading the way. Its head monitored Nestor the entire time and yet it had no difficulty traversing the rubble along the way, its legs darting past every boulder and crack as if it had a thousand eyes covering its body.
The manmade tunnel ended after a quarter-mile of travel, and the way had been cleared well ahead of Nestor. The other Guardian had done its job well, the boulders thrown to the side or stacked up in neat clusters along the sides of the tunnel. A few odd piles of random stone pieces suggested that there had been some stone chopping in places. In a battle that pitted myssteel against stone, stone usually lost.
The tunnel ended into a larger cavern with the typical trappings reserved for ancient caverns. Stalactites and stalagmites littered the ceiling and floor like the teeth of a predator's misshapen jaw. The air was fresher here, but so was the stink, something akin to rotting plants mixed with salt spray. There was an aquatic tinge to the odor, and Nestor wondered if the sea wasn't all that far away. The stone looked plenty dry; chances were good that he was safe from any tidal water gushing his way.
It remained deadly silent in the cave, with no hint of breeze or faraway echoes or squeaky critters nesting in the crevices. Only Nestor's footsteps and the Guardian's skittering legs could be heard. The surface felt a long ways away, but now Nestor was moving toward it, and that was a hope he could cling to while he navigated this ancient tomb with a totally unpredictable and potentially dangerous war machine flanking him.
There was a path on the floor that weaved through the jungle of stalagmites. The Guardian favored this path as it used its legs to climb over and push off of the stone formations littering the ground. It had mirrored Nestor's movements continuously, never once taking its three-eyed head off him, nor had it done anything other than retreat from Nestor. Despites its non-threatening stance, Nestor felt quite uneasy having a Guardian for a traveling companion, and he kept his eyes on it as much as he could.
"Confused," Nestor said aloud, aiming his words at the skittering Guardian even though he didn't expect an answer. "I've never seen a Guardian act like you. Maybe they built you wrong, like a sword that breaks off at the hilt after three whacks."
The cavern narrowed into another tunnel, Nestor noticing more rubble scattered around bits of stone that must have gotten in the way of the first Guardian. It was nice of the ancient machine to clear a path for him, but it did beg the question of what the thing was going to do when it got out. If it was this temperamental and destructive to stone, what might it do to any innocents that got in its way?
Anticipating Nestor's traveling path, the tag-along Guardian went for the tunnel, maintaining its lead as it crunched loose rubble underneath its feet. The behavior flummoxed Nestor, for while Guardians had a few tricks when it came to combat, they never had any real talent for tactics. This one wanted to stay ahead of Nestor, as if it couldn't stand to be left behind. Smart move – Nestor figured the best way to lose the tag-along was to start a cave-in that separated the two of them, but that plot required him to switch positions with the Guardian, and it wasn't about to let him do that.
Time passed by at a snail's sprint, the minutes dragging by as Nestor kept his attention divided on the Guardian and the path before him. He talked more and more to the thing that perpetually shadowed him, mostly about his fears regarding Hiccup and Toothless, about whether Arc and Saga and the rest escaped the Repository, about how soon he could take a bath after getting out of this cursed cave. The Guardian never replied, but that didn't really matter. Nestor chatted mostly because he couldn't stand the eternal silence or the constant skittering sound coming from the Guardian. His last nerve had been thoroughly worked already, and now all he wanted was to see the sky again, whether cloudy or sunny or starlit. Then he'd be convinced that he wasn't trapped in the Underworld, awaiting one of those gods of the dead to usher him into eternity. He wasn't that worried - he didn't think the Underworld had metal servants in lieu of devils and spirits – but he wanted to see the sky just the same.
"How do they get myssteel to move like flesh and bone?" he asked. "Did they ever tell you, your masters? Hiccup learned how to shape it, but none of us know how to animate it. That'd be a fun secret to learn. Too bad it'd probably be abused, just like everything else we come up with gets abused. Arc would be saying that it's in our nature to test the limits until the limits test us back… which sounds more clever than it actually is."
…Actually is…
Nestor whirled around in surprise, frantically looking for the source of the unmistakable voice he just heard. It had been right in his ears, a smooth and yet disjointed voice with no echo or resonance beyond the first two softly spoken words.
"Did you hear that?" said Nestor, forgetting whom he was talking to as he searched for any motion or flicker of shadow. Beyond the Guardian, nothing stood out.
…you hear that…
Three more words, so close that the speaker had to be standing next to him. But the tunnel here was so narrow that even an invisible person sidling up to him had no room to spare.
…register. Does human organism register?
"Register?" Nestor had no idea where this was going, but now he realized that the voice wasn't right next to him, but in his head. No wonder it didn't get louder or softer.
A mental voice – telepathy. Nestor groaned as the whole routine suddenly felt very familiar. The last time he'd had a voice in his head was when he had traveled inside the Monolith and had been rudely greeted by Cervantes, who had become the brains of the doomsday war machine. Salo krebit, he better not be in the bowels of another Artisan project.
Then it occurred to him that he didn't have to be. He had an Artisan project walking right next to him. It had stopped as Nestor had stopped, holding position down the slim tunnel. Its blue-eyed head-tentacle seemed to be more curious than before, more focused.
Does human organism register? the voice repeated.
Nestor's mentor was a talking dragon, so the idea of a talking machine wasn't all that out of the ordinary. It still threw him. To placate his disbelief, he decided to go ahead and talk to the odd voice and hope it wasn't his own mind cracking apart under the stress of his circumstances.
"I can hear you, if that's what you're saying," said Nestor.
Human organism registers. Thought processor successful. Link established, preparing for information exchange.
There was no physical cue from the Guardian that it was speaking. No lips moving, no blinking lights or shift in its torso. It held its spot as it had been doing for the last minute. For all Nestor knew, the voice could be coming from anywhere… yet he honestly didn't think that was the case here. So when Nestor spoke again, it was directly to the Guardian.
"Is the voice I'm hearing in my head the Guardian ahead of me?"
Affirmative. Prototype Analyzer-Class Guardian #421, designated for Transition Site Delta.
"Oo-kay." Nestor was pretty sure he had no idea what any of that meant other than it was a type of Guardian. "You talk, apparently. Do something else. Wave a tentacle for me."
More information required to complete request.
"More information? Um… wave one of your front tentacles up and down."
Right or left?
"Right, why not?"
Number of movements?
"Seriously, you can't improvise on your own?"
Number or movements? it repeated.
Nestor shook his head in growing annoyance. "Three. Do three."
The machine right-front leg immediate swept up and down in a wavy motion, as if doing the leg part of a hokey-pokey dance. Up and down, three times, and then back to the ground.
"Well, we've confirmed it's you in my head." He was surprisingly okay with this. In Nestor's book, things that talked were less scary that things that couldn't, though that didn't make them less dangerous. "Why didn't you communicate until now?"
Human organism's language unknown. Required analysis of thought patterns to establish link. Analysis completed after 4.26 hours, success rated at 97% effectiveness.
"Thought patterns… you read my mind?"
Incorrect. Reading of human organism consciousness unacceptable to command structure. Analyzed chemical and electrical reactions and identified patterns Projecting compatible energy relay to human organism.
"Ugg… this conversation is already starting to hurt. Let's try this – why are you following… er, leading me?"
This unit requires assistance from human organism. Human organism displays both aggression and intention to leave Transition Site Delta, so this unit stayed in proximity to human organism until communication could be established.
Aggression and intention to leave – the thing's phrasing made Nestor feel like he'd been a bully to a machine. It didn't sound hurt, though. There was no emotion at all in its words. Nestor felt compelled to apologize just the same.
"I admit that I came on aggressive, but I was only trying to get you out of the way. I've had bad experiences with other Guardians. If you're not actually hostile, we don't have a problem."
Human organism knows of other Guardians? Does it know of Prototype Analyzer-Class Guardian #429?
"429? Is that the one that looks like you? It didn't make a good first impression with me, which was why I was less than friendly to you."
Prototype Analyzer-Class Guardian #429 is conducting unacceptable actions. Communication between this unit and Prototype Anal…
"Wait, wait, wait!" said Nestor, holding his hands in a time-out gesture. "To save on time and my sanity, we need a shorter name for this thing. Can we call it… 429? How's that?"
There was a pause as the Guardian digested the concept of a "shorter name." Acceptable. Does human organism wish for Prototype Analyzer-Class Guardian #421 to have a shorter name also?
"Yes," answered Nestor. "Yes I do. But let's go with something that isn't a number. I might get you and 429 mixed up. Let's see… Prototype Analyzer… Prototype…" He smiled as the perfect nickname came to him. "How about Proto? That's pretty distinguishable."
Another pause from the Guardian, almost like it was mulling over the nickname for its pros and cons. Proto – short version of current designation. Acceptable. Does human organism have a shorter name?
"I go by Nestor."
Human organism's name changed to Human Nestor.
"Just Nestor."
Unacceptable. Human Nestor not "just" Nestor. Human Nestor combination of complex biological functions and…
"Fine, fine, not worth arguing," interrupted Nestor. "Just don't call me Shirley."
Acceptable. Identification "Shirley" deemed unacceptable.
Nestor could see this was going to be a very drawn-out conversation, and all the while the surface wasn't getting any closer. "Can we continue this as we walk? I'd really like to leave this cave."
Acceptable. Proto began to skitter forward as it had been doing for hours. Nestor took a few steps before he dumbly realized that they didn't have to be doing this routine anymore.
"Proto, you can walk with me now. You don't have to lead me."
Human Nestor still capable of aggression, potential of damage to this unit incalculable due to Human Nestor's barrier field.
It knew about barrier fields. It might know a lot of things from the old days, if it'd been around since the destruction of the Artisan Empire. It also had a healthy dose of mistrust. Nestor had been wondering if the mind inside Proto was like the Monolith's mind, which required a human to transfer all his thoughts and knowledge into the machine itself. A machine with a human will behind it. But if that was the case with Proto, it was a very analytical, literal, and unintuitive mind that had gotten stuck in all that steel. It acted more like something that was new to the world despite having the combined vocabulary of all the philosophers of Ancient Greece.
"Proto, I'm not going to damage you."
Analysis of Human Nestor incomplete. Potential exists.
"The potential always exists. You take a chance on me, and I take a chance on you."
Incorrect. Proto cannot commit assault on human organisms. Against command structure. Unacceptable.
"Really? So what happened with 429? It clearly isn't following the same rules, because it attacked me directly."
429 has corrupted command structure.
"Well, I only got your word that you won't do the same. But I'm willing to accept that you won't, at least for now. Will you accept the same for me?"
There was a longer pause as Proto mulled over this newest idea. Nestor realized he might be inadvertently teaching Proto the concept of trust. He hoped he had said the right words, because the last thing he needed was to accidentally turn Proto into another version of 429.
Proto's answer was to advance toward Nestor, swing around him, and stake out a position a few feet behind Nestor, an impromptu marching formation. For the first time in hours, Proto's head wasn't locked on Nestor but fixed forward, watching the yawning cavern instead.
Acceptable.
Nestor allowed himself a little smile. It was the first thing to go right since he woke up in this Fates-abandoned cave.
Nestor's mood wasn't exactly in positive territory, but he was far more at ease with the Guardian talking to him from behind than having it silently lead him through the cave. Alas, he now had to put up with that draining feeling that came with constant conversation with a super-literal mind.
The cave grew increasing easier to navigate as the hours crawled by, the cavern widening enough that Nestor and Proto could walk side-by-side if they wanted to. The possibility never came up, though. Proto was content with following Nestor, and Nestor didn't want to go to the effort of convincing it otherwise. So they remained leader and follower.
For all the effort that went into conversing with Proto, Nestor did learn quite a bit from the machine. The discussion wasn't just informative – it was distracting. There was a deluge of anxieties and issues plaguing him – lost friends, growing threats, the basic fact that he had no idea where he was. And the worst one concerned his growing desire for water. The enhanced strength supplied by his barrier field softened the worst of the symptoms, but there was no denying his need for hydration. He'd gone two, maybe three days without water, maybe even longer. Most people would be drying up and blowing away by now, especially after exerting so hard, and he might still end up that way if his field collapsed again.
Walking and talking didn't drive away the thirst, but it was better than thinking about the rawness of his throat or the fact that he hadn't had to pee in hours.
"You called this cave a Transition Site, correct?" asked Nestor, keeping his face fixed forward. Talking directly to Proto was unnecessary – it didn't care about manners and it could hear him just fine.
Correct, it replied. Transition Site Delta, enabled for T-Node traffic to and from Special Project Site.
"Special Project Site? What, the T-Node wasn't enough of a Special Project?"
Question not understood.
"Skip it. How about this: they buried the T-Node pretty deep in this cave system. Were the Artisans supposed to walk out of here every time?"
Incorrect. Transition Site chosen for security reasons. T-Node network designated top secret, created for quick transition to multiple locations designated as critical to Artisan war interests. Cave egress used as emergency route in case T-Node network failed. Engineers deployed secondary T-Node devices to allow travel directly to Special Project Site. Secondary devices lacked range of primary T-Nodes.
"So this cave was a waypoint for travelers on the T-Node network. Can't say I like the décor, but I guess beggars can't be choosy. Otherwise I'd be dead at the bottom of the ocean."
Correct. You are currently fully functional and nowhere near the bottom of the ocean.
Nestor sighed helplessly. Humor, even bad humor, was lost on Proto. "So what was your purpose, exactly?"
This unit designed to aid travelers in transition as well as conduct maintenance and security of Transition Site.
"Ah, so you were a Jack-of-all-Trades type of Guardian. Is that why you're a friendlier class of machine?"
Question not understood.
Nestor thought about how to phrase it better. "The other Guardians I've encountered… well, fought… were designed to be monstrous and intimidating. You're designed like a… lump."
Human Nestor refers to this unit's physical form, correct?
"Correct."
Form is metamorphic by design. Allows for adaptability in conducting multiple tasks including refuse clearing, mold removal, pest reduction, excavation, grime disposal…
"Yes, yes, got it. Here's a better question: what happened to 429 to make it attack me?"
Yet another pause before Proto's answer. Nestor noticed that questions that didn't have definite answers made Proto pause while it sorted out its response. It must have difficulty with subjective responses. Nestor didn't think his question had been that perplexing, but maybe Proto didn't really know the answer.
Proto will relate what it has recorded to this point. Definitive answer unknown.
"Whatever you can tell me, then," suggested Nestor.
This unit and 429 were designated to Transition Site Delta two standard years before Directive Omega issued. 429 had same command structure as Proto: assist travelers through T-Node, maintain site, protect from intrusion. Then Directive Omega was issued by Artisan Authority – all travel to Site Delta suspended.
"Why?"
Reason unknown. Directive Omega is security directive, issued only when Site's probability of compromise by hostile forces is significant. After order issued, all travelers from Special Project Site recalled to their home base. T-Node locked down in ceiling containment. This unit and 429 continued operations until network shutdown occurred.
"Network shutdown? That doesn't sound good."
Six standard months after Directive Omega issued, this unit registered the loss of Network Control. Reasons unknown, circumstances unknown. T-Node network no longer online. T-Node itself remained operational.
Nestor had a good guess about that. "That's probably when the Artisan Empire exploded. Their home continent pretty much ceased to exist."
Proto paused again. It probably hadn't realized its creators were all gone until now. Proto calculated possibility. Had no corroborating evidence until present. Destruction of Artisan Empire most likely conclusion based on length of inactivity from T-Node and from engineers.
"I'm sorry, Proto."
Statement not understood. Why is Human Nestor sorry?
"Just human sentimentality. Keep going."
Command structure dictated to secure Transition Site should network fail and no engineers are present to issue orders. This unit and 429 sealed secondary entrance and awaited network reinstatement. To date, network still down, though individual T-Node retains power.
"And I'm thankful for that." So now he knew how and why the tunnel was sealed. Diligent work from a pair of busybody machines.
After one standard year, no communication from Artisan commanders was recorded. This unit and 429 analyzed circumstances, created survival plan. Powercores within this unit and 429 not same model as conventional Guardians; energy output less, reservoirs reduced. Slow drain in process, rendering unit nonfunctional in 12,113 standard years.
"Right, got to think ahead," Nestor said sarcastically. Nestor had trouble planning his life a week ahead of schedule. Twelve thousand years?
This unit and 429 concluded that one unit must remain operational in case network or engineer returned. The other would power down to minimal activity, cease analysis routine until signal given by active unit to return to full operation.
"I get it. One of you… 'slept' while the other kept an eye on the cave. Clever."
This plan would lengthen unit survival to three times normal powercore lifespan. In addition, both units created protection around bodies to reduce effect of environmental deterioration. Command agreement was to power down for one year, remain active the next.
"So that's why you two were in those rock cocoons. You were sleeping and waking up every year. You really kept that up for twenty-thousand years?"
Incorrect. Pattern went as Human Nestor described for 1,000 standard years after decision was made. That is Proto's final memory before this day. Conclusion: Proto has been at minimal operational capacity for over 19,000 standard years.
Nestor stopped and faced Proto for once. This wasn't something he could walk and talk about. "Proto, are you saying that 429 has been active for eons… all by itself?"
Evidence suggests such a conclusion. No signal was issued by 429 to reactivate. Reason for 429 failing to send signal - unknown.
"Shouldn't it be out of power?"
Based on 429's actions, evidence suggests 429 is nearly out of power and is seeking alternate sources.
Nestor glanced as his right arm, the glowing one he was using to light the way. "429 attacked me and siphoned off all the field energy I had at the time. I doubt I was a very good meal. Is that why it took the T-Node?"
Proto was silent as it collected its thoughts, then looked at Nestor for a change. Analysis: 429 low on power due to constant operational status. 429 capable of absorbing compatible energy from other sources. 429 went after Human Nestor as barrier field is compatible. 429 went after T-Node because powercore within T-Node is compatible. Both actions conflict with standing command structure to not assault human organisms and to protect T-Node. Conclusion: 429 has corrupted command structure.
Nestor had figured out most of Proto's linguistic differences over the course of their time together. "Command structure" was apparently the set of rules Proto abided by, like a code of honor that Proto couldn't break. Even though Proto didn't seem capable of becoming aghast, he came as close as mechanically possible to the emotion when the topic of defying his command structure came up. If Proto was to be believed, it was impossible for the machine to deviate from his command structure. Yet 429, a machine built on the same principles as Proto, was doing just that.
"What does it mean to have a corrupted command structure?" he asked.
Analyzer-class Guardians based on constant analysis. This unit continuously assesses self, Human Nestor, environment, and other priority subjects as required. Probability of 99.98% that analysis will continue within established command structure, but probability allows for potential corruption over sustained periods of analysis. If conclusion referring to 429's length of operation is correct, 429 may have incurred error at unknown point in its operation. Error would lead to faulty conclusions, which would lead to other faulty conclusions. At this date, it can be concluded that 429's corruption has to be severe to ignore high-priority commands regarding the assaulting of human organisms.
Nestor didn't say it out loud, as he didn't think Proto would understand, but Proto's description of 429's "corruption" sounded like the process a healthy mind might go through as it descended into madness. Proto was a thinking machine, not the same as a human mind but strikingly close in places, and it stood to reason that 429 worked the same. Perhaps the "error" in question kept 429 from signaling Proto to wake up, and it just kept on analyzing for eons upon eons.
If a human was left alone for over nineteen thousands years, with only the silent rocks and the swirling dust for company… Wouldn't that drive anyone, or anything, completely mad?
Nestor resumed his walking as a nervous shiver ran down his spine. He didn't think he needed another reason to get out of this cave, but he managed to find a new one anyway.
"Can 429 be saved?" he asked quietly. "Can we fix it?"
Negative. Without an engineer to conduct repairs, 429 will remain in this state until nonfunctional.
"And there are no more engineers. Which means I may have let a crazed machine out of its cage." As if he didn't have enough guilt weighing him down. "So if 429 has to signal you before you woke… became operational… why are you operational now?"
This unit is now active due to disappearance of T-Node. Node sends out low-energy pulse monitored by this unit. Lack of pulse triggered operational status. Emergency command structure initiated. 429 carries the T-Node. T-Node must be recovered.
"But what's the point, Proto? The network is down and we can't use it to teleport anywhere."
Human Nestor incorrect. 429 could use it to self-teleport.
Nestor didn't want to stop again, but this bit of news forced him to do so. "You said the network was down."
Correct. Direct control of teleportation impossible without network. But this unit and 429 capable of connecting to T-Node in emergency situations as back-up Control Networks. Can do Node-to-Node teleport, as well as track recent usage of T-Nodes.
He faced Proto with a face riddled with fear and hope, two conflicting emotions battling for supremacy. "You can work the T-Node?"
Correct, as can 429.
Hope gained the upper hand for once, and the weigh on Nestor's shoulders suddenly felt ten times lighter. "Salo krebit, we need to get moving. I need the T-Node back. It's the only way I'm going to find Hiccup and Toothless."
He shunted power to his legs and was about to charge down the tunnel when an annoyingly inconvenient caveat came to him. He sighed out his frustration and turned to Proto. "429 must have a pretty good lead on us. You wouldn't happen to know how to track it, would you?"
Tracking 429 currently. Node energy leaking traceable elements. This unit can track elements.
Nestor felt his emotional mishmash face returning, only with a dash of annoyance thrown in. "Feel free to volunteer information like this at any time."
Proto stared back at him blankly. This unit not designed to volunteer.
The slim beam of sunlight caressing the ceiling of the cavern was possibility the most beautiful thing Nestor had ever seen in his life.
Of course, that was probably the panic, starvation, dehydration, and exhaustion talking, but it was still a lovely thing to see after untold hours bumping and tripping around in the dark.
This part of the cave was set on an incline, making the going harder as the stones here were slicker, smoothed out by what little moisture had found its way into the cave over the millennia. That, plus the occasional slap of wind in the face or the salty smell of ocean water wafting past Nestor's nose, was all the evidence Nestor need to believe that the entrance was nigh.
Even with his field-enhanced strength, Nestor found the going tough. The tunnel was wider but handholds were fewer, Nestor's boots threatening to slip out from under him with every step. But with a little cajoling, Proto assisted Nestor by acting as a safety harness, Nestor grabbing Proto's head-tentacle for support while the Guardian moved them up the tunnel, its pincher-feet digging into the cavern walls like fingernails gouging a wedge of cheddar.
The air took a turn for the frigid, but it felt glorious to Nestor. He was almost out, almost free. He didn't care what lay beyond the entrance. As long as it wasn't another cave, he could deal.
Near the top of tunnel, he reached out and placed his hand in the beam of sunlight. Fresh warmth graced his skin. Real sunlight, along with the crashing reverberation of real waves and real wind at almost deafening volume. Ocean sounds – he had to be right next to it.
One final push by Proto and they were up to flat ground, the cave giving way to open sky and a precipitous drop into blue-green water frothing on the rocks dozens of feet below. Nestor told Proto to halt for now as he closed his eyes and basked in his generous return to the surface world, the afternoon sun pitted against the frosty breeze. Bumpy thunderhead clouds massed all over the sky, threatening to eventually rob Nestor of his hard-won sunlight.
He wanted to cry in relief at escaping his premature entombment, but that required more relief than he had in him. For one thing, the ocean stretched out onto all horizons without break or obstruction. While his vantage point was incomplete, his impression of his surroundings was that of an island that was mostly mountain, and a long, thin one at that. White streaks across the rocks implied that sea birds used this place as a roost, but none flew about in the sky or rested on the boulders below. It had to be too cold for your average bird, and Nestor's elation proved an inadequate blanket for the temperature as he began to hug himself.
Then he spied a little waterfall running down the rock face, one of several that were little more than vertical streams falling to earth. Rain, dew, snowmelt – he didn't care as long as it was drinkable.
He reached out to one of the waterfalls with a cupped hand and got a dose of ice water for his troubles. And it tasted amazing. Giving into his body's long-delayed demands, his hands shot out over and over, bringing precious water to his chapped lips. By the time his thirst was slated, his hands had gone numb and the clouds had taken away the sunshine. A proper tradeoff, all things considered.
Proto didn't have such needs as Nestor, the machine using the time to stick its head out of the cave. It elongated its neck and began a wide survey of their new surroundings, stopping at times when it spotted something that required an extra second of analyzing before resuming its survey.
"Is this the first time you've seen the surface, Proto?" asked Nestor, rubbing his hands together to get the feeling back.
It didn't answer Nestor's question, obviously too busy gathering information. But if it was thrown by the surface world, a place it couldn't have seen in eons, if at all, it didn't show it. Nestor decided to let it do what it needed to, stepping back further into the cave to avoid the frigid wind and hugging himself some more.
Once Proto was satisfied, it swung its three eyes to Nestor and looked him over in an up-and-down fashion. Human Nestor's body temperature fluctuating, Proto beamed into his head.
"It's a wee bit nippy out here," said Nestor. "We're not in the Mediterranean Sea, that's for sure."
Unable to discern global location from current landmarks. Proto sounded almost confused, like it had expected something different.
"It's been twenty thousand years, Proto. A lot of things can change in that time."
With the happy moment utterly spent, Nestor did his own analyzing of the surroundings. The cliff was pretty sheer. He might survive a fall from this height, but there was nothing but surf and rocks to break his fall. And then what, start swimming? Look around the island for raft-making materials? Use Proto as a lifeboat?
No sense in panicking yet. He couldn't see the rest of the island from here. Maybe his prospects were better than they looked. First thing to do was climb up and…
429's trace headed north by northwest, spoke Proto. It helpfully pointed a tentacle in the indicated direction.
Nestor looked and saw lots of churning water but no flashy myssteel machines that direction. 429 must have taken off into the sea already. "Can you guys swim?"
Body too dense for floatation.
"So is it walking on the ocean floor?"
Why would 429 need to perform such action?
"Well, what other option is there?"
Nestor thought he had said the wrong thing at first, as Proto proceeded to squeeze past Nestor and throw himself off the cliff and into the air, as if satisfying an urge for recreational cliff diving. For a horrible moment, Nestor wondered if Proto was demonstrating its own variety of corrupted command structure and that he was about to be abandoned all over again.
Except Proto didn't fall. He abjectly refused to fall, hovering in front of the cave entrance with its legs dangling beneath it like lifeless cobwebs. It spun its lumpy torso around in midair as its legs rewound back into its body. Soon it looked like a flying metallic, misshapen tortoise with no limbs and an extra-long neck, Proto staring at Nestor expectantly.
Nestor blurted out a quick laugh of foolish astonishment. He'd witnessed the Monolith send out hundreds of these types of things two months ago, and chances were good that the reason they could fly wasn't due to their aerodynamic qualities. But most Guardians didn't have flight capabilities, so Nestor had assumed Proto was grounded. He was happy to be wrong.
Human Nestor incapable of flight, said Proto. This unit will transport Human Nestor.
"I… I like this arrangement."
Proto closed in to allow Nestor to jump aboard, Nestor finding a sweet spot near Proto's "neck" where he could sit without discomfort or fear of sliding off. Nestor swore he felt Proto's body shift slightly under him, as if molding a proper seat for Nestor. The idea made Nestor laugh again. If he could expect this kind of service from now on, he'd never fly on Arc's spiky spine again.
Proto wanted to go straight after 429, but Nestor explained that he was running on empty in terms of food and that they could at least circle the island to see if anything was edible. Proto allowed for this and took Nestor for a quick tour of the island they'd emerged from, emphasis on quick.
The island really was nothing more than a small mountain in the middle of the ocean. There was no place for rainwater to pool or plants to grow, no wildlife living on the slopes or flying on the breeze. Proto's Transition Site must have been another undersea cavern built into this inhospitable island. As out-of-the-way went, it was perfect, but in terms of nourishment and survival, just looking at the island made Nestor's stomach grumble in pain.
Nestor told Proto to forget it and follow the trail, and the machine did so. There was no sense of motion or vibration as Proto accelerated, unlike what happened when you sat on a dragon's back. Soon the waves were flowing by at a dizzying rate, not quite as impressive as when Toothless went about it but still impressive.
Nestor hugged himself once more and considered the future as the familiar exhilaration of flight faded and all his pressing concerns came flooding in. Going further north didn't exactly thrill Nestor, not if it was already freezing cold and likely to get freezier as time went on. However, Proto didn't have such a problem and the machine could probably keep up the pursuit to the end of days. If they weren't careful, Proto might end up with a human icicle on its back before long.
His stomach was rebelling and he was already close to exhausted. Again, Proto didn't have those limitations. Neither did 429, who probably had the same flight speed limits and the same lack of restrictions as Proto. Unless 429 stopped at some point, this chase might go on forever. Nestor couldn't. He had to hope that an insane machine might just be insane enough to sabotage itself.
Tired but determined, Nestor forced himself to stay awake as Proto flew off into the barren horizon. He spaced out instead, trying not to think of mutton jerky or how good a beef-and-bacon sandwich would feel in his mouth or how much he missed that misfit bunch of adventurers that had become his family. That's why he didn't recognize the few islands gracing the ocean in the distance, tall spire-like formations or empty sandbars that disappeared at high tide, or even the tiny island with a few evergreen trees that were surviving despite the odds, an island that should've been remarkably familiar to Nestor, as he'd been there before. He noticed them, but didn't put it all together until later.
That's why he failed to understand why he was suffering from an unshakeable feeling of déjà vu.