Chapter 122: Shift
“These things are not our friends, any more than a sheet of paper with ones and zeroes could be.”
—Ezou Miraw, priest of Gaazabar
The magnetic storm was even worse on the way back to the ship. Zaina held Gizmo to her chest and cooed at him, “It’s okay. We’ll get through this, buddy.”
She hoped it was true, but she was losing faith. Doubt crept into every corner of her mind. If Gir had left something behind—especially a message for her—why did he make it so hard to get to?
It occurred to Zaina that she might be projecting this weird friendship onto Gir. She barely knew him for two days—not even. Why was she so attached to the idea of keeping part of him around? Why did she miss him so much?
Another thought struck her—what if there was nothing? What if it was all a mistake, a glitch—what if she went to all this trouble, thinking Gir had left some significant knowledge or message behind, but it was all a malfunction? How was she going to feel then?
She pushed the questions aside. There was no room for doubt. She had to keep going for Gizmo. They were almost at the ship, where Zaina would be able to collect her thoughts. Eventually, one way or the other, she’d have her answer.
Gizmo turned on again. “Giz—Giz—Giz—”
“Oh, no,” Zaina said, pushing his power button. “Here, buddy. Get some rest.”
He didn’t turn off. “Giz—Giz—Giz—”
She toggled it a few times. “What’s—huh?”
“Something the matter?” Baeus asked.
“Yeah, he’s not turning off,” she replied. “Damn magnetic storm—let’s get him to the ship.”
“Giz—Giz—Giz—zzz—” a holo-screen projected from the top of Gizmo’s body, displaying an image of a human man with a cybernetic implant on the side of his head; at first glance, it looked to be some sort of bone or horn-like protrustion.
Gizmo spoke, but not in its normal voice—it was deep and robotic, utterly devoid of the usual cheer or joy. “Lancer contact: X972.12.EP-000270. Name: Kazlo Kamu. Alias: Ghost. Occupation: Glyph repair and programming. Last known location update: World of Calkhor, city of Atlande, frequenting the location: Pilizara’s Wellstop. Registering lancer: Girxorgian of Clan Ra-Folgoth.”
Zaina was stunned, trying to process what her little friend was saying. “Are—are you okay, Gizmo?”
The shift was over. “Giz—Giz—Giz—entering low power mode.”
Zaina patted him tenderly on the head. “You did well, buddy. Get some rest, now.” Then she turned to Baeus and said, “Please tell me you caught that.”
“I did indeed,” Baeus replied. “Sounds more promising than our other lead, if I’m being honest.”
“Yeah,” she said, feeling a tinge of excitement—this seemed like their first real lead. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“So, Calkhor it is?”
She nodded, her faith redoubling. Gir had left something for her—why else would Gizmo have acted like that? It all had to be according to some sort of plan, right? There was something he wanted Zaina to see, or know—and whatever it was had to be galaxy-shattering. Why else would he be so secretive about it, and take such incredible measures? Why else wouldn’t he trust the Order with it?
Zaina tried to imagine the scope of a conspiracy so vast that Gir would actively turn against the Order and seek to hide something from them. Maybe they were part of it, or involved somehow. Her mind raced at the endless possibilities.
They made their way back to the ship. Zaina took off her mask and inhaled the cabin’s musty air—it was welcome compared to the recycled oxygen in the mask. The glass covering on Baeus’s bed-pod also folded back in, and he similarly enjoyed a deep breath of the ship air.
“All right,” he said. “Well, that wasn’t altogether pleasant, but at least we have a new lead. Calkhor should only be a skip or two away. Probably thirty minutes at most.”
“Maybe we should look this guy up,” Zaina said. “You know, make sure he’s still alive.”
Baeus rolled his eyes. “If that’s a reference to my mistake earlier—”
“Oh, I’m only poking fun. I doubt he’s dead—Gir must’ve registered him within the last ten years, right?”
“Yes, and considering he has a last known location, the Order is still keeping tabs on his whereabouts. That said, a lot can happen in ten years,” Baeus replied. “I’ll see what I can find—ah, active warrants, no death certificate—as far as everything official goes, it appears our friend Kazlo is quite alive. However, due to his circumstances, I’d understand if he was making himself difficult for strangers to come by.”
“Active warrants?”
“Theft, hacking, and embezzlement, from the looks of it,” Baeus said. “Well, we’ll go to Atlande and find this Pilizari’s Wellstop, and see what comes up. Sound good?”
She smiled and gave a nod.
Baeus said to the glyph piloting the ship, “Set course for Calkhor, southern quadrant three. City of Atlande. Scan for available ports in the quadrant and navigate to the closest one.”
The glyph gave an affirmative click, and the ship powered on. Zaina sat on one of the polysynth lounge chairs, grateful for a chance to rest her aching leg. She heaved a relaxed sigh and held Gizmo in her lap.
Baeus came up beside her. “So,” he said, “what do you think is in that little mind of his?”
Zaina still didn’t want to fully let him in on the scope of this—she didn’t know how big the secret was, and she didn’t want to spook him with her true thoughts. Instead she replied, “I don’t know.”
“In thinking about it,” Baeus continued, “I’ve come to the conclusion that it must be one of three things.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it.”
“Well,” he began, “it’s entirely possible Gir left information embedded deep within Gizmo for some reason—that’s option one. The second option is that it’s a mistake, an error—I think that’s the most probable outcome. The third option is that it’s some sort of tampering beyond what Gir knew of. Has anyone other than you, Gir, or the Order had possession of Gizmo while you’ve known him?”
Zaina shook her head. “I mean, there’s been times when he’s been alone, but—I think we can rule out option three. I don’t think anyone could have messed with him. Definitely not when Gir and I were on Demelia, and probably not in Otmonzas’s shipyard, either.”
Baeus gave an intrigued grunt. “It was already the least likely option. But that takes me back to something which gives me pause—if Gir left something behind, he subverted the Order to do so. I never interacted with him much, but from what I remember and from what other people say of him, he was as loyal a lancer as they come.
“And further—think of the modifications that would’ve had to have been made to Gizmo if Gir did leave a message behind. That had to be something premeditated, planned—it couldn’t have been a spur of the moment decision. Which, unfortunately, means it’s unlikely whatever message is on there is intended for you. Any tampering Gir did with Gizmo was likely to have occurred before he went to Demelia. I think we should prepare for the possibility of this being something greater than we imagined.”
Zaina’s shoulders sank. Baeus wasn’t wrong—she doubted Gir knew how to reprogram Gizmo in that way. Still, the settling gloom didn’t change her mind—whether Gir had a message for her or not, she needed to know. This was basically Gir’s last will and testimony, his final chance to speak from beyond the grave, and he deserved that—she owed him at least that much.