Dawnhammer Origins: Dawn of the Guardians

Dawn of the Guardians

In the vast emptiness of Deep Sol, the most advanced artificial intelligence created by Man utilized every logic circuit, every microelectric sensor to contemplate a single drop of water. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Sodium. Chlorine. He was a vessel built for exploration, capable of travel between stars in seconds. He could destroy planets. Suns. Solar systems. Yet he stared at the drop in absolute wonder. Would the human race ever know that this single saline droplet had saved their civilization?

The ship knew something was wrong. Unbidden images exploded through his stream of consciousness, demanding a reaction he was incapable of. It watched, passively, emotionless, as his weaponry claimed the target that would end the Great War. The Admiral's death played through his memory core over and over. The holosphere projected her image onto the command deck. He began running diagnostics as she stared at him in judgement. Her elegant dress uniform of white and gold imbued an aura of nobility, but her proud, dignified posture elevated the vision to that of a queen. Brilliant, malachite eyes reflected her surrender to death and apprehension of the unknown that lay beyond, but an emerald fire glinted through and burned away any trace of fear.

The memory faded as quickly as it had come. His android body stood vigil over Dawn's

stasis chamber, its eyes closed as if in prayer. He revelled in his ability to move around. He revelled in the limitations of the smaller form. While his consciousness was always that of the ship, itself, seeing through the narrow viewpoint that humans were forced to experience gave him a semblance of peace. Focusing through the android's limited mind was like looking through a metal tube. He didn't see everything all at once. He experienced time like they did. But even this form wasn't immune to the cascade failures that were plaguing him.

Dawn's scream rang through his empty corridors. Ship knew that she was in the sarcophagus-like cabinet before him, had engaged her stasis more than two centuries ago, but her cry was as real to him as it was the first time he'd heard it. He followed it through the medical ward and out onto the hangar deck. It came louder now and seemed to echo inside his head. He put his hands to his ears and walked up the corridor to the command deck.

The holographic scene on the command deck was paused. His forward cannon battery glowed red-hot as a searing storm of light reached out to take Admiral Valeri's command frigate into the abyss. The Admiral was there, again, judging him. Behind her, red and orange blossoms of flame were frozen in time. Dawn was frozen in mid-fall halfway to the deck. Ship knew that, at any moment, the scene would resume it's playback and her knees would crash into the silicate flooring, jarring her whole body with the force of impact.

Ship walked slowly through the image. Dawn, her face stricken with grief, her left fist clenched inside of the small holosphere that command his weaponry. Admiral Valeri's timeless, majestic form stood before her, silhouetted by the brilliant flames behind her. Through the image, her frigate, 'Windwalker' was frozen in the midst of a hundred explosive decompressions. To the right of her capital ship Ship could see the Phoenix, a lighter, more maneuverable version of his own Guardian design. White light lanced out into the distance as it's gravity drive engaged. All around him in the holosphere were stars, explosions, fire and death, but, as always, the only thing that seemed truly important were his pilot and the Admiral.

Despite the destruction of Windwalker, the hellfire-bright cannons firing from his own wings, spine, and belly, despite the testament given by the thousands of ship carcasses floating within scanner range, Ship knew that he would never see anything more powerful than the pristine fire in the Admiral's eyes.

Even Ship, a mere facsimile of a man, knew love when he saw it. It was raw. Unfiltered. Devastating.

Pure.