Chapter 2: Among the Shadows...
The sector was dark in the way only places that have never seen natural light can be — a dense, mechanical darkness, cut here and there by the pulse of gears turning along the flanks of the structure. Enormous pillars rose on either side like iron sentinels, and the floor ahead stretched flat and silent, indifferent to everything.
Then a shadow crossed the space at an absurd speed.
Triangular. Black. And completely unbothered by the need to be understood.
A second later — a span of time that seemed very, very insufficient to cover that distance — came Willy.
Running. Breathless. With the expression of someone who has no idea how they ended up in this situation, but is too committed to stop now.
— Ugh... wait... ugh... — He skidded to a halt, hunched over, and tried to catch his breath. — He's not going to wait...
He looked around. The sector was strange even by the colony's standards — large machines of incomprehensible purpose lined the walls, and the silence had that specific texture of places that keep industrial secrets. Willy furrowed his brow.
— Hmm...
He pressed on.
At the far end of the corridor, the triangular figure disappeared through a pipe in the floor as if vanishing off the map.
Willy approached, looked down into the opening with the gravity of an engineer evaluating a suspicious project.
— Hmm?
Thirty seconds later, Willy was upside down, hanging from the ceiling, peering out through the inside of the pipe with an expression of genuine curiosity that had absolutely nothing to do with the physical position he was in.
— How Wonderful...
Then came the crawling-through part.
— Urgh... — The sound that escaped his throat was a mixture of effort, embarrassment, and resignation. The pipe was tight in the way only pipes can be when you are exactly the wrong size for them.
The vertical pipe was worse.
Willy began climbing with all the determination he could muster, which was a reasonable amount, and then gravity did its quiet, inevitable work.
— Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! — The sounds came tumbling out as he slid downward. — Up-up-uuuup...
Further along — after a stretch that Willy's memory would later decide not to log in detail — he found himself wedged inside a transverse pipe, body jammed in the middle of the passage, staring ahead with the expression of a person who has reached a conclusion about their own life.
He took a deep breath.
— Yeah... — he said, with the particular calm of someone who has exhausted all available emotions. — Wonderful!!!
The exit was abrupt, as all pipe exits tend to be.
Willy tumbled over a large crate and landed with the satisfying sound of something that should not have fallen from that height.
— Ow-ow... my body... all of it...
He lifted his head. Looked around.
A warehouse. Large, dark, full of crates stacked at heights that suggested a storage philosophy based entirely on optimization and zero on safety. The silence there was different — heavier, with that quality of a place that breathes on its own.
— Hmm. A... kind of warehouse?
Then he saw the sphere.
Metallic. Floating. With a single eye of red light sweeping its surroundings with the calm, absolute dedication of something that never sleeps and never gets distracted. The light it cast illuminated the nearby crates in a shade that wasn't exactly threatening — but came close.
— Hmm?
Out of nowhere, a small brown creature — rounded, with a tail that served no real purpose beyond existing — climbed onto the crate beside the sphere. The sphere turned, slow and deliberate, and rested its red eye upon it.
Willy furrowed his brow.
— What in the...
The sphere's eyes turned white.
The alarm blared.
Weapons burst from the metallic body with the efficient click of systems that had only been waiting for an excuse, and the laser fire that followed was so relentless and precise that what remained in the creature's place was a clean burn mark — the kind of result that only happens when someone designed it with a great deal of dedication.
— What!? — Willy stepped back, eyes wide.
The sphere turned.
In his direction.
What followed was one of the most improbable feats of physical control Willy had ever pulled off: he was behind a pillar, breathing with millimetric care, while the red light swept the space around him like a spotlight that accepted no evasive answers. The sphere drew closer, slowly, methodically, with the patience of something that has infinite time and zero tolerance for movement.
Willy didn't move.
What he did — and still can't quite explain how — was notice a poster. An illustration. Several sphericals, drawn in a row, all pointing in his direction.
He stepped in front of that advertisement with a smile that tried to seem carefree and landed closer to a grimace.
The sphere looked at the poster.
Looked at Willy.
...
And moved on.
Willy let out a breath too slowly to make any noise. He looked at the poster.
— Thank you... — he whispered. — I think...
Then he looked to the side.
The triangular figure was crossing the warehouse toward another pipe, with that specific urgency of someone who has a plan and no interest whatsoever in sharing it.
Willy closed his eyes. That expression was starting to feel familiar.
— Right then...
The pipe spat him out onto an open platform, and Willy emerged from it face-first into a sight he had not asked for.
A massive cylindrical wall surrounded him on all sides, covered in gears turning with the slow, inevitable rhythm of very old machines. Below — far below — the colony's electric road pulsed with that bluish light that made everything feel unreal. The drop between the platform and the bottom was the kind of distance that leaves your stomach about three seconds behind your body.
— Wow... — Willy walked to the edge and looked down with genuine curiosity, which is the specific type of reaction that only happens when you haven't fully processed the danger yet.
— Never turn your back on your enemy.
Willy spun around.
— Aah!
The triangular being was there, still, watching him with the expression of someone who arrived first and waited long enough to be ironic about it.
Willy got his feet back on the ground, his heart making noise.
— Oh... hey... You...
The triangular being watched him for a moment.
— Hm. Congratulations, Cube. — The voice was dry as cold metal. — You've managed to prove you have the bare minimum of skills necessary to be of some use on my mission.
Willy blinked.
— Mission? — He furrowed his brow. — What mission?
The triangular being didn't answer right away. It turned its back — the gesture of someone who organizes their own thoughts with the same precision they organize everything else.
— Hm. It's time for you to know.
The hologram that rose from the device was blue and vast — a large metallic sphere floating between the two of them, rotating slowly like a miniature planet.
Willy's mouth fell open.
— Wow... is that... a kind of hologram?
— Focus less on the device — said the triangular being, in the tone of someone who had expected that reaction and was not pleased to have been right — and more on what it is showing you.
— And... what is it showing me?
The purple eyes fixed on him with a patience that was clearly at its limit.
— That metallic sphere in front of you is what keeps this entire place standing. The mother energy... of the mother colony.
Willy looked at the hologram. Turned the information over in his mind.
— It's... a giant battery.
— Exactly. — And there was something approaching respect in that word, though the triangular being seemed physically incapable of expressing it fully. — And my mission is to infiltrate that core and sabotage it from within. Shutting down the Mother Colony entirely. Leaving the sphericals vulnerable to any attack. A simple, fast, and precise plan... — A pause, like an ornamental period. — ...the way everything should be.
Willy looked at the hologram. Looked at the triangular being.
— And... what does this have to do with me?
The triangular being switched off the device and walked to the edge of the platform, turning its back to the abyss with the indifference of someone who does this all the time.
— The core has a DNA recognition system. — The voice was technical, without inflection. — Any living being in the spherical database who enters the core will be detected immediately. Triggering the colony's emergency protocol. Ruining everything.
— So...
— So the sphericals have thousands of DNA records stored. Hexagons, rhomboids... — The purple gaze drifted sideways, and there was something different in it for just a moment. — Trigons... However, there is one specific species that does not appear on the list.
The silence that followed had the exact shape of Willy.
— Whoa-whoa! Hold on! — He stepped back, hands raised. — You're not suggesting that I go inside that thing and deactivate the core... are you?
— Of course not. — The triangular being sounded almost offended. — You wouldn't have the intellect for such a feat.
Willy opened his mouth. Closed it. Chose not to.
— Wow, okay then...
— What I want is simple: for you to enter the core and deactivate the DNA detector. So that I can get inside and complete the mission. — A minimal pause. — Do that, and in return I'll help you get back to your planet.
The silence this time had a different texture.
Willy looked at the triangular being. Looked at the platform. At the abyss. At his own hands. Then found, in a polished metal plate on the opposite wall, his own reflection — cubic, disheveled, with his inventor's goggles slightly crooked on his face.
He stared for a second.
— I don't even really know you — he said, finally. — Besides, I'm not a stealth genius. I don't know how to throw myself around using my body as a weapon or whatever it is you do. I'm just... me. — He paused. — You understand?
— Yes. — The triangular being looked at him directly. — And "just you" was more than enough not only to deactivate one of the spherical containers, but also to escape from a group of well-trained guards.
— That was a stroke of luck.
— Well. — The purple eyes didn't blink. — Then it's time to use a little of that luck to do something useful.
Willy looked away.
— You've got the wrong cube for the job.
The triangular being was quiet for a moment. When it spoke, the tone had shifted — not by much, but enough for the difference to be noticeable.
— A true warrior does not look at the war that lies before them... but at the victory that awaits. — A pause. — Tell me, what is your victory, Cube?
Willy sat with that question for a long moment. The abyss below pulsed blue.
Then he closed his eyes. Thought of Stacy. Of Liam.
He opened his eyes.
— You said that afterward you'd take me back to my planet... right?
— Correct.
— Well — said Willy, looking around like someone taking one last inventory of options and finding none. — It's not like I have a better choice. — He took a deep breath. — Alright. I'll do it. But on one condition.
The triangular being looked at him with that expression hovering between suspicion and irony.
— When this is over... I want you to help me find my friends.
— That wasn't in the plan.
— Then you'll need another cube for your plan — said Willy, with a firmness that surprised even himself. — And after drawing so much attention with the guards you took down, I'm sure it'll be very easy to find one.
The silence that followed was the kind that precedes decisions.
— Hm. — The triangular being looked away. — Lucky for you I'm extremely flexible.
And it walked past Willy toward the edge.
— Hmm — said Willy, with a small smile. — And what's your name, anyway?
The triangular being stopped. Looked to the side. And there was something in that pause that wasn't quite hesitation, but came close.
— You can call me... Agent T.
— Hmm. — Willy stepped forward and extended his hand. — My name is William Ralking Couche. But you can call me Willy.
Agent T looked at the outstretched hand. Then at Willy. With the specific expression of someone who is actively refusing the informality of this entire situation.
— I don't recall asking for your name.
Willy lowered his hand with the air of someone who expected exactly that.
— Now stop stalling.
And Agent T jumped off the platform.
Willy ran to the edge and looked down: the triangular figure slid along the walls of the cylinder with an elegance that defied any reasonable logic, descending toward the bottom where a garbage bin from one of the transport ships waited like an absurdly precise destination.
Agent T looked up and signaled.
Willy looked at the abyss.
— Right then... — He stepped back. — Okay, Willy... — He breathed. — It's just a jump. Easy. He... — He looked down again. — I'm going to land badly, aren't I...
He stood there for another three seconds.
— Alright! Enough thinking!
He took one last deep breath.
— Demorekaaaa! — And he jumped. — Aaah-ah-aaaaaah!!! It's not just a jump!!!
Agent T was sliding down the wall with that technical indifference of someone who has converted gravity into a mode of transport. Up above, the blue cube was plummeting with the controlled trajectory of someone who was very scared but had decided, against every instinct, to trust physics.
— Aaah-ah-aaaaaah! I'm falling!
— Are you? — said Agent T, without turning its head.
— Help me!
— Help yourself. — It slid to the opposite side with the elegance of someone who has always done this. — Like a weapon, the body can be lethal under the right conditions. Control the fear, control the gravity, control the situation.
Willy looked at Agent T as he fell.
— What!?
Agent T simply kept descending.
Willy looked ahead. At the platforms rushing past. At the distance below.
— Ugh... — And something shifted in his expression. — Control the fear... the gravity...
His eyes focused.
— ...the situation.
What came next was, objectively, impressive. Willy began to fall with purpose — dodging platforms, adjusting the angle of his body, focused in a way that had nothing of elegance but everything of function. With each obstacle cleared, something in his face grew firmer, more present, more like someone who knows what they're doing.
— I'm... actually... doing it!
The garbage bin appeared below.
Willy hit face-first.
The sound was exactly what one would expect from a cube landing nose-down in a garbage bin at high velocity. There was no possible dignity in it, and Willy didn't try to manufacture any.
Agent T landed beside him with the lightness of someone who had never needed a garbage bin for anything.
— Well... — it said, looking at Willy half-buried in the garbage. — That was minimally stupid. But at least we know you're resistant to falling. — A pause. — At least one thing going for your species.
Willy, face in the garbage, fur completely flattened, just said...
— ughmnh...