《The Wanderer》


 Chapter 1

    The Wanderer


    1


    James Rider had always been a bold, adventurous fellow ever since he was a child. The idea of exploring and unveiling new territories warmed his blood and soothed his soul, and as such, he promised to himself he would explore all the worlds in his Solar System and beyond when he was older.


    So, it''s no surprise that now, as a young human adult, James is an interplanetary resource collector, traveling from world to world to harvest different ores, precious and rare metals, and uncover lost technologies from ancient people long gone.


    Despite his young age, his somewhat precarious but exciting job has allowed him to sate his hunger for discovery, as it provided him the tools to visit all sorts of planets: the dusty and warm planet of Bruinck, rich in scarce metals, unstable winds and ever moving sands that over time consumed all life in the planet; the lusciously paradisiacal small planet of Zanken, right on the corner of the third arm of the Milky Way, overflowing with cultural richness from all over the galaxy, and brimming with ores not seen anywhere on Earth; The mighty primitive planet of Jeiinon, where James was sent to collect a particular kind of stone required for some interdimensional travelling researcher.


    He didn''t know much about the research itself, but what he did know was that Jeiinon was a brutal planet where different factions of people constantly destroyed each others land to assert divine dominance over the other. No need to say that that was a complicated mission. But James succeeded, as usual, and still managed to¡­borrow a few ancient texts during his convoluted stay. He wouldn''t find himself coming back to Jeiinon any time soon, though.


    Those planets were only a few of the ones James kept in his memory, as he visited dozens due to his wanderlust and curiosity. And as James sits on his ship, plowing through space on warp speed towards his next destination, an unconscious smile forms on his face as he recalls all the serendipity, chaos, danger and cheer fun that accompany all his missions. This one wasn''t going to be any different, and James was overflowing with excitement at the thought of it. At least¡­so he thought, at this point in time.


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    He had been hired by a research fellow at the museum of Natural History in the cosmopolitan planet of Ituzhu, where he had dropped off the ancient documents he had acquired in Jeiinon. Upon the delivery of the texts, this researcher was incredibly impressed by James''s ability to not only survive in the harsh war-riddled planet, but also at his carefree and frankly demented idea to steal from people who were known to brutally and ingeniously creatively slaughter their enemies.


    After a little bit of thought, he had asked James if he had any intention to travel to a relatively newly discovered planet, rumored to possess ancient ruins of a former great civilization. At the time James had arched an eyebrow, curious about how could the planet have remained undiscovered for so long. The researcher had simply shrugged, and affirmed that the planet was a wayward planet, that would wander through space unimpeded due to its very small size, until the gravitational forces of a larger planet anchored it for a time.


    There had been some tales of this planet, that researchers amongst themselves called the "Wanderer", and it was James''s job to investigate the ruins present on the planet''s surface and retrieve anything of importance. The researcher added with disinterest that he was free to keep whatever resources he managed to collect during his stay, and that his pay would be completed upon his return. Despite sensing that the researcher seemed to know more about this "Wanderer" planet than he let on, James was already hooked up. After all, how could he deny his Lust to step foot on a new world, one that hasn''t been visited yet, at that. And he might get a good reward for it too.


    He had sealed the deal with a handshake, refilled his supplies, and set sail towards the Wanderer that very day. Some would say he was being rash, but patience really wasn''t James''s strong suit.

 Chapter 2

    2


    That exchange had occurred approximately nine days and a half ago, and considering the planet¡¯s course he would reach it within roughly in two days. During those nine days, James¡¯s had looked up the information on the Wanderer that the research fellow had provided. It wasn¡¯t much. It really wasn¡¯t much.


    Apparently, the planet only crossed known space every so often, and as such, the last time it did humans hadn¡¯t yet become an interplanetary species. And at that time, the detection and analysis tools for planets were rudimentary, at best. No lifeform detection, no surface materials detection¡­from that far, anyway. And sending a probe across that distance was unthinkable.


    However, it would seem that humans at that time believed that there were other species inhabiting the ¡°Wanderer¡±, a mighty and powerful civilization, far more advanced in their technology. That the planet itself could be maneuvered through space at will and that it¡¯s course was not erratic, but controlled by this species. As such, humans feared the planet, even if they also believed that said inhabitants had been extinguished over time due to a great Calamity of some sort. The nature of said disaster is not specified in any known text or document, so it is assumed that humans themselves were unaware of the cause for the fall of this civilization.


    To James, this all seemed like some old wives tale. After all, how would they know, being that far away from the planet, and not having contacted with said species? Nonsense and superstition, at best. However, despite James¡¯s relaxed approach towards this story, he couldn¡¯t shake a certain apprehension that creeped up. Still, it was the job he had been hired to do, at great personal reward, and soon the prospect of exploring a new planet replaced those feelings with a sense of excitement and anticipation.


    And so, the two remaining days to destination went by like a cloud blowing in the wind, swift and carefree. Landing the ship on the planet¡¯s surface had been a breeze by itself as, contrary to some other planets, the surface wasn¡¯t completely overrun with vegetation. In fact, as James had learned during the time it took to reach the Wanderer, the planet seemed to be devoid of any plant life besides the occasional lichen, that isn¡¯t even a plant. Not that James cares about that, anyway.


    As James steps off the ship, with his protective suit and helmet on, he takes a look around, starting to take in his surroundings for the first time, breathing in the environment that encompassed him. It was¡­cold. Sterile. Now that he was on the surface of the planet, he realized that his feet were not planted on dirt or rock, but what instead seemed to be some kind of flooring. Kneeling down to get a better look, James¡¯s fingers traced the ground tentatively. The dull dark tungsten-coloured surface appeared to be a sort of metal, although James wasn¡¯t entirely certain he had encountered such a material in his travels. Sprinkled across the floor, the occasional lichen could be seen, eerily glowing slightly in a greenish-blue tone.


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    The whole planet was cast in an overwhelmingly thick shadow that seemed to have consistency itself, and reminded James of the dark ferrofluid used in his ship. Night was perpetual on the Wanderer, since the planet was currently sailing space, and not revolving around any sun that could warm it¡¯s chilled surface. As such, the only available light sources were the dim glow of the sparce lichen, and James¡¯s own equipment.


    Already tired of staring into a whole lot of nothingness, James removed a laser-powered cutting tool from his belt, and started extracting some of the flooring from the ground. As the edges of the cut started to stubbornly appear, James noted that instead of melting off under the heat of the laser, the material seemed to be quickly shifting.


    To James perplexion, it almost seemed as if¡­as if it were regenerating. Ultimately, despite James¡¯s persistence and great desire to retrieve the piece of flooring, the edges closed and the floor was once again whole, without a dent or mark to tell the tale. James cursed his luck, and was now starting to have second thoughts about the profitability of this trip. The darned scientist would have to open his purse more widely, James thought bitterly.


    Shaking his head at the occurrence, a deeper interest in the planet started to overtake James, substituting his slight annoyance with unrelenting curiosity. Placing the tool on his belt, he headed once again to the ship, where he asked for it to search the surface of the planet for structures or landmarks of any kind. He had conducted this search previously while orbiting the planet, to no avail. Now, having seen the surface, James was starting to understand how advanced the fabled civilization living on the Wanderer might have been, and it was wholy possible that some kind of interference was at play, as a security measure.


    While the ship ran its analysis, James stared through the ship¡¯s portholes into the darkness outside, ruminating in his mission. Soon enough, just as his thoughts were starting to melt away into a puddle of absentmindedness, he heard a loud chirp coming from the ships''s console.


    James unconsciously smiled brightly at the screen, that displayed what seemed to be a kind of entrance or gate into the underground, not too far away from where the ship has landed. With renewed vigor and excitement, James made his way to the ship¡¯s hangar, determined to explore something more thrilling than metal surfaces. With a grin, he started to pack provisions and heavy duty tools onto his all terrain vehicle, and left the ship with a brazen heart, headed off into the distance.

 Chapter 3

    3


    As the vehicle¡¯s propellers hummed in the background and the initial sight of the ruins entered James¡¯s field of vision, his heart couldn¡¯t help but skip a beat. After a while traveling in the metal gray expanse that seemed to compose the entirety of the Wanderer, any kind of variation was certainly welcomed. And even at a distance, the ruins of what appeared to be an entrance to an underground city looked promising.


    James beamed under his helmet and spurred the vehicle onwards, increasing the speed as his uncontained anticipation also increased. Soon, he reached the ruins, and his gaze feel on the structure, while an intelligent inquiring glint overcame his eyes. Now the challenge truly began, because if James was honest, he had been intrigued by the metal surface of the planet¡­and he could only guess that the interior was even more interesting. And as a bonus, he would get to see something other than a wasteland, which at this point James was growing weary of.


    James hopped out of the vehicle, bringing his heavy duty tool set in tow, and approached the gateway area in a quick marching pace. His eyes roomed the remainder of a once great civilization, and a rogue shudder made his way down James¡¯s back.


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    It always gave him the creeps to be in old decrepit ruins of any kind, but these ones¡­ these ones were unlike any he had been to. While ruinous structures on other planets were a reminder of life long gone, that one could assume was once vibrant even at a glance despite the cracks or vegetation that covered them¡­the gateways on the Wanderer were just like the rest of the planet: devoid of any evidence of life. Or even any indication of a past besides their own existence, for they were made of the same regenerating metal, and so seemed untouched by wear and tear. The heavy hand of Time had not had its touch on the Wanderer, and it was simultaneously unsettling and awe-inspiring.


    James started thinking to himself that the Wanderer was very much like a planetary-scale time capsule, perpetually floating through cold space, completely unchanged by the time spent on its travels. A relic of the past, that didn¡¯t seem to have a past itself¡­and yet was so full of it. Now, he would be the one to unbury it, and discover the secrets within, to unveil it¡¯s mysterious story, at last. And perhaps, make a few coin in the meantime, like the people of yore would say.


    James chuckled at the thought as he woke from his reverie, moving towards the closest gate with tools in hand, and determination on his mind. He would find a way in, he would not let a piece a metal humiliate him like before. Or his name wasn¡¯t James Rider, darn it!

 Chapter 4

    4


    If the gateways to the underground had been impressive at a distance, they were imposing up close. Composed by the self regenerating metal, they displayed unknown alien patterns on the dark metallic grey surface that seemed to shift and move just in the corner of one''s eye. Blink, and you''d miss the throbbing subtle energy that seeped out of the gates, a testament to the power contained within.


    Mesmerized by the architecture of the structure and remembering his mission on the Wanderer, James made sure to transmit images and recordings of the gateways to his ship before getting himself ready to start working on opening the gateway. Examining the entrance, it was very quickly very clear that the locks that shut the city in safety were extremely complex and intricate. Too complex for a one-man crew to tackle using finesse, anyway. And James really wasn''t the best at lock picking regardless, much less ancient alien civilization lock picking.


    But there are very few things that don''t break with the right amount of pressure and scorching temperature. Self regenerating metal or not, James smiled confidently knowing his heavy duty tools would chew through it. And he knew just what to use. With an almost lovingly look in his eyes, James started readying what he liked to call "The Destroyer". Original? Not quite. Efficient? Very.


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    The tool consisted of nothing less than a high speed, radiation powered, vacuum blaster. For what he had gathered, this tool created a deep local vacuum, then heated up absurdly by exposure to radiation, only to blast off highly compressed matter at high speed, destroying anything in its path. All under 2 minutes and a half.


    A thing of beauty, James would say. Brings a tear to the eye it does, he would also say. Had saved his hide a couple of times too.


    With a grin on his face, James finished setting up The Destroyer, and as his excitement mounted he prepared to link up the last component to the gateway, so he could commence what he considered a very thrilling dismantling operation.


    However, it wouldn''t be the first nor the last time that the blasted planet would play tricks with him. As James''s hand contacted with the gateway when he was hooking up his machine, the entrance flung open so suddenly that he couldn''t quite catch himself, falling unaided for a few seconds, before landing face flat on a hard flooring.


    Just as he was thanking the skies that he had a helmet on his intact head, James heard an obnoxiously loud thump. Oh dear. It most certainly seemed he might have to figure the locking mechanism out, after all.

 Chapter 5

    5


    After James shook off the imaginary dusty from his clothes, his gaze scanned his surroundings intently, and he found himself in a large hexagonal room, each corner leading to a different corridor.


    Above him stood the now closed off gateway, and he noticed that the ceiling was quite high, too tall to be accessed by foot. He wondered if the creatures that had once lived on this planet possessed wings. The room itself was incredibly methodic in its geometric construction, so it was unlikely that the people of the Wanderer has simply forgotten to install stairs.


    Lost in his musings, James was brought back to his senses due to a signal from his helmet: the air on the interior of the Wanderer was breathable by humans, even if the oxygen content is ever slightly lower, and the humidity is quite high compared to Earth.


    James smirked as he started taking off his helmet, and took a deep breath, pleased that he could have more freedom of movement without it. Safety be damned. As the stagnant air that laid dormant inside the Wanderer filled James''s lungs for the first time, he couldn''t help the slight headiness that overcame him. The air was indeed different from Earth, from any other planet, really. And you can feel the difference, for when James took that breath, it seemed almost like¡­like breathing wasn''t quite as efficient as it should be. As if, despite inflating his lungs with air, they weren''t quite filled. As if James was standing on a very high mountain and the air was thin, anemic.


    James shook his head to get rid of the slight temporary dizziness, and decided to drop his helmet right on the center of the room. It would serve both as orientation for when he wandered through the Wanderer and as a goal to return to. This was just fine -James convinced himself- nothing he haven''t faced before. Besides, it''s not like that one time he had to outrun a bunch of angry rhino-like creatures in Ternkley, after his helmet broke in a oxygen poor atmosphere. That¡­wasn''t fun.


    Smiling oddly fondly at the memory of this past predicament, James started to sit down on the cold metallic floor as he reached for his pockets. There he happily retrieved a snack, and started munching on it, unfazed by his current situation. He had learned the hard way to always carry some sort of food on his person, regardless of the situation. Experience has proved him right over and over again.


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    He took the time of this reprieve to gather his thoughts, collect images of his surroundings and formulate a loose plan. Content with his meal and his planning, James jumped to his feet, ready to tackle the problem at hand. He might not have wings, but boy, did his thoughts fly.


    Moving confidently to the doorway right in front of him, James examined it. To no one''s surprise, it was also made of the metal he had come to know by heart, and just like the rest of the room, it stood untouched by time. Trying to mark the metal itself in any physical way would be foolish and pointless, as it would regenerate immediately, and all traces of his passage would be obliterated in seconds.


    Making up his mind, James hands moved towards his tool belt deftly, uncovering a small, sharp laser knife from it. Then, without thought or hesitation, James offered his opposite hand to the knife, cutting his palm deep enough that the carmine red liquid that coursed through his veins adverted it''s normal path, and painted his hands and wrist blood red.


    Wincing slightly at the sensation, James put away his knife and smeared his hand on the doorway he intended to first explore. Let it be my claim to this forsaken planet, my touch of reality to this permanent time capsule, thought James as he chuckled mirthlessly.


    Under the diffused white light that emanated from orbs carved into the walls themselves, the bloodied palm imprint reflected it''s color harshly, it''s redness almost an offense to the full dark gray that permeated all spaces in the Wanderer.


    James stared at it for a while, ensuring that the mark wouldn''t simply vanish into thin air, the blood sucked in by the greedy and hungry metal that seemed to always eliminate all presence of life at its surface. Still, the blood lingered, flowing slightly downwards as gentle gravity exerted its pull on it.


    Convinced that he could now find his way when it came to navigating the paths out of the hexagonal room, James face curved into a challenging smirk, as he strode with determination into the dark-lit corridor, that beckoned to him with a sweet promise of discovery.


    However, in his absence, James couldn''t see the soft contours that the harsh surface underneath the bloody mark took, the metal itself reacting to the metallic iron in his blood.

 Chapter 6

    6


    It wasn''t long before the poorly lit corridor that James had followed opened up to another considerable large room. Had the room been exactly the same as the previous, James would have undoubtedly headed back and spend the remainder of his years trying to figure the locking system out.


    But, it was quickly apparent that this room was different. Not because of the shape, not because of the size, but because what was contained within. Before James''s eyes were seemingly some sort of capsules, large enough to harbor multiple humans, and way taller than a human could ever be, even the enhanced ones.


    The room itself was a dead end, no exits presented themselves despite James''s best efforts to locate some. All things considered, James couldn''t help thinking that perhaps these pods were either some sort of prison cell, or some kind of transportation services.


    He approached one of the capsules, that at first glance blended with the metal surrounding it: dull, gray and without much going on, really. That changed the moment James''s touch met its surface inquiringly, and the machine was brought to life for the first time in millennia. Just as if no time has passed at all.


    Already getting accustomed to the planet''s antics, James didn''t as much flinch when the pod was activated, since he had been expecting it too. Somehow, it was very clear that the Wanderer itself was highly sensitive to living beings, their organic structure capable of awakening its long dormant metallic heart. By now, it was apparent that the people of the Wanderer possessed deep knowledge of biological systems and the interaction with their inorganic environment. Or at least what he had assumed was inorganic metal¡­as time went on, he started to doubt that rash assumption on his part.


    Before he got entirely lost in his inner monologue, he moved to see if it was possible to somehow open the capsule. Its interior would certainly reveal more of its function than the bland exterior. When he had first laid eyes on the machine, no details were discernible due to the low light on the room, but now that the capsule itself emitted light, the intricacies that littered its design exposed under his gaze.


    Several marking were now visible, presumingly in the native language of the Wanderer. Also, a circular area was present, and it almost beckoned James to touch it, as it was only slightly bigger than his hands.


    Thoughtlessly, his hands moved to the circular display, and lingered there¡­for a second, two seconds. It seemed like nothing would happen, but as the ninth second went by, the machine started to make a few angry noises. Rejection. It was funny that in spite of the different cultures all around the galaxy and beyond, an angry machine was always recognizable.


    James frowned as he removed his hand from the display, now convinced that perhaps the pods were a prison cell. Still, unrelentless as he was, he could not bring himself to stop putting his hand on the display again, holding a breath for the duration of whatever analysis the machine was making. Same result. James scratched his head aggressively in frustration, and cursed under his breath. It was the capsules, or the locking mechanism. No other choices for him.


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    He thought about going back to the first room, but his gut feeling told him the corridors all led to these capsules. Exasperated, he decided to once more place his hand on the stubborn machine. The seconds went by, and once again a torrent of unamused beeps reached his ear, as he sighed defeated. Without his tools, it would be very difficult to pry the capsules open and practically impossible to overcome the locks of the gateway. The beeps continued resounding in the room, until¡­a pause, an interruption.


    Then, a series of other kinds of beeps that James couldn''t quite decipher, almost like a conversation. He quickly removed his hand from the panel, and stood there, eyes trained on the machine, unable to look away. After a few moments of what seemed to be a back and forth conversation, the beeping stabilized to constant sound. And then, it opened. Without resistance, without force. As if the system had been going through a mood swing and had just decided to give him access, or had been overridden by a superior.


    James felt the cold feeling of wariness washing over him. He didn''t trust living beings prone to mood imbalances, much less machinery in a strange new planet. A part of him was screaming to go back to the room, maybe have another snack while he thought it through a little, and even rest a bit. Rest was a particularly seductive activity for James at the moment, because the stuffed air and the white lights seemed to be giving him a headache, a constant pressure at the base of his head that simply couldn''t be shaken off. Or perhaps he had a concussion from the fall, despite the helmet''s assessment that he was fine. What the heck did it know anyway? A nice rest would do it for James, he was certain.


    And yet, another part of James was really intrigued by the machine and, if he was honest to himself, he was a tad fearful that it would close itself at any moment, changing its mechanical mind once again. That would leave James exactly where he was before, and he wasn''t exactly thrilled at the prospect. Massaging his forehead and letting out a mighty sigh, James moved to inspect the interior of the capsule.


    For once, the pod didn''t react to his approach,which in this case, was wonderful. James couldn''t shake the image of himself trying to enter the pod to examine it, only to be clamped to death by the capsule''s doors. None of it happened, to James''s relief. Once inside the pod, James noticed that it''s interior was well-preserved as expected, and yet displayed some signs of usage, to his surprise.


    The floor itself was impeccable, being made of the same metal as the exterior, but the walls and the panels that were contained withing did seem to have seen better days. It was almost shocking to see the hands of decay in the Wanderer, even if they were slight, imperceptible.


    Focusing on the panel before him with difficulty, James did his best to brush aside the persistent pain in his mind, enhanced by the obnoxiously bright interior of the capsule. It appeared that the panel presented different options ready for selection, despite James''s ignorance of the language presented.


    His first instict had been correct, for the pods were indeed the usual means of transportation that the people of the Wanderer employed regularly, long ago. Not really sure on what to select, James told himself it''s probably best to start at the beginning and selected the first option. If it came first, it was bound to be good, or at least frequently used. He hoped.


    After the selection and what could be a request for confirmation that he guessed his way through, the machine started to once again beep loudly, to his changrin. The doors closed gently, and without warning or preparation, the floor around James started to slowly envelop him, restricting progressively all movement. First, it stole the movement of his legs, encasing his need to escape in it''s metallic coldness. Then, it spread its vice-like grip to his torso, and a shill permeated James''s core.


    Panic overtook James, as the metal progressively took hold of his arms, incapacitating all resistance he might have thought to present, before subjugating his entire being by submerging James''s aching head in a sea of mercurial gray.

 Chapter 7

    7


    An undefined haziness. A lingering sensation of powerless existence. The frigid caresses of metallic nature. The jumbled awareness of an unknown presence. How long it had been, James couldn''t say for sure, his mind unfocused on higher thought. All he could think about is rest.


    As recollections of his time on the Wanderer slowly sprang forth in his exhausted mind, he forced his tired eyes open to take in his surroundings. Immediately, he was assaulted by the bright lights on the interior of the same capsule he had entered before. Gritting his teeth to endure the discomfort the lights were inflicting, James quickly tried to get on his foot, realizing now that he had been lying on the floor the whole time.


    As more memories started to flood his thoughts, a chilled horror could be seen on James''s face, at the forceful realization that he stood on the very same metallic surface that had subjugated him so easily, violating his desire to escape its grasp.


    Tumbling in his haste, James made his way to the door of the capsule which, just like it had done before, responded to his touch. It opened with a slow and gentle animation that, to James, seemed almost mocking in the face of his anxiety. As soon as it was open wide enough for James to pass, James stumbled out of the capsule in a rush, and walked as best as he could, trying desperately to put some distance between himself and the infernal machine.


    As he did, his legs swiftly gave in to the pressure his uncoordinated body exerted on them, and he fell to his knees, oblivious to his environment. If something gets me, I deserve it at this point. Stupid¡­-was one of James thoughts on the sea of his incoherent mind. He took some deep breaths to calm himself, although the quality of the air that permeated the Wanderer made it seem like he was trying to breathe water, the high humidity offensive to his lungs.


    Chocking involuntarily, he once again cursed his recklessness, regretting having left the helmet at the ship¡­the ship? Did he really leave the helmet at the ship? That was unlike him, despite his brazenness. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, instantaneously regretting it as the pounding headache returned with a vengeance.


    He kneeled there quietly and unmoving, trying to grasp his mind back to reality. No, he couldn''t have left the helmet behind, outside there is no air, no plants, no nothing¡­nothing but the metal. He forced the nauseous sensation that threatened to appear at the thought that effectively, he was surrounded by the blasted metal, as the whole planet itself seemed to be composed of it. More calming breaths ensued. But try as he might, he simply could not recall what had happened to his helmet.


    He had somehow stumbled on the realization that he had lost it somewhere inside the Wanderer, which at this point, he considered progress of his mental capabilities. Unsure, but feeling slightly more collected, James rubbed his hands on his face, feeling the warmth of his hands on his skin¡­and a warm liquid?


    He slowly opened his eyes and looked upon both his hands, and was greeted with the sight of blood on his right hand, all the way to his wrist. Taken aback by the angry red color on his hand, he frantically started to try to wipe it off his face and hand, an inexplicable disgust washing over him. After a few moments of struggle, the hand was almost clean, as was his face, he assumed.


    Inspecting his hand more closely he saw a deep, clean cut on the palm of his non-dominant hand. As if¡­he had done that himself. He riffled through his belt and indeed, there was his knife. He could have done it. Likely had¡­but why?


    Confusion started swirling in his pounding head, as if a veil of opaque material had been draped over his memories of the Wanderer, the contours still visible, but impossible to grasp the fine details without lifting it. Deciding that continuing this charade without proper rest was pointless, James looked up and around him, expecting to be in the same room as before.To say it looked similar was an understatement¡­everything looked the same on the Wanderer.


    Yet, for some reason, it didn''t quite look the same, even if his recollection of the room was still a bit hazy. The orb lamps encrusted in the wall shone in a warm orange color, and the room was not hexagonal. There were only two corridors, of which he could see the end, contrary to the previous room. Despite the capsule''s perceived aggressive behavior, it had transported him elsewhere. Not bad.


    James felt his mood lift at the thought, renewed hope and vigor at the prospect of exploring new areas of the Wanderer. He stood up, this time a little more measured in his movements, and assessed his body functions. Besides the headache and the wounded hand, everything seemed alright. No broken bones, no sprained ankles. Best case scenario, really. And the headache would fix itself with some sleep, anyways.


    With a determined but cautious look on his face, James started to head towards the closest corridor at an unworried yet firm pace. As he was about to head out, he stopped on his tracks, quickly looking back at the room. Nothing. Nothing that he didn''t expect anyway.


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    The pods were still there, mocking and challenging James with their very existence. Yet, he had felt something like¡­like a tug, a pull of an invisible string, that had forced him to double-check. As if a presence had briefly entered the room, had been perceived by his mind alone, since there was no indication of another being on the planet.


    Still, just the thought prompt James''s legs to move at a higher pace than they probably should, hurriedly carrying him through the first corridor he had gazed upon in a stumbling motion. Not too many steps later, the corridor opened up to a grand and spacious area. It was impossible to perceive the ceiling from where James stood, and it stretched beyond what his human vision could account for.


    Surprise knocked the air out of James''s lungs, for it was the first time he was accessing the city portion of the Wanderer, and a sense of surrealism washed over him. Contained within this space, were a number of buildings, wildly different from anything humans or other species he knew had ever built.Once again, the metal was the main building material, but could he really call it building?


    From what he could see, it seemed almost like the metal had grown into the geometric shapes he saw, as an odd and unnatural organic feel disturbed the perfection of the geometry, making it not quite right. Also, the builds were interconnected and intertwined in a way that made them appear as a mesh of sorts, instead of individually defined structures, reinforcing the sensation that they had sprung fourth as fruit of growth, not been constructed by capable hands.


    James willed himself to move forward, mesmerized and enthralled by the surrounding environment. Reaching what seemed to be entrance of the building closest to him, James observed as the metal surface receded at his closeness, snaking out of the way and allowing entry into its shadowed interior. Hesitating briefly at the doorway, James braved onwards after turning the lights of his suit on.


    Expecting to be able to tell the function of the structure by its interior, James was thrown off by the almost emptiness of the rooms. As he navigated around the building, the only indication that it once had been occupied and served a purpose were the presence of what could be some sort of equipment carved into the walls of several rooms.


    James forced his feet to walk towards one of such walls, eyes trained and wary. He examined the wall cautiously, and reached the conclusion that the indentations were quite similar to the ones on the transporter capsule he had used earlier, and almost seemed to have the shape of a control panel. Cursing under his breath once again, James reluctantly placed his unwounded hand onto the surface, which quickly responded.


    Brief seconds after his warm touch grazed the surface of the cold metal, light spilled from orbs on the walls, pulsing slightly like the ones he had encountered on the hexagonal room. As the light permeated the room, James felt the chilled surface in contact with his hand expand, and looking down into his hand, his horrified eyes traced the metallic motion that was climbing up his arm.


    Startled, James removed his hand from the panel and in a panicked state tried to shake off the metal. His efforts were to no avail, as it had quickly evaded his frantic movements and made its way to the nape of his neck, where James felt its presence lodge.


    Then, thin and spindling tendrils of dark grey metal reached towards his face from the back of his head, covering his eyes in a suffocating embrace. Blinded, James desperately struggled to remove the metallic mask that had forced itself into his face, falling down to his knees while grabbing his face. The more effort he put into fighting the metal, the stronger the bind seemed to become, until¡­all of a sudden the metal stopped moving.


    James could feel its encompassing presence on his face, but it no longer shifted and snaked around as before. Trying to take deep breaths to calm himself, James willed himself to open his eyes. Fully expecting to be met with absolute darkness, he was startled by the changes that had occurred in his surroundings.


    No longer where the rooms vacant and void of life. Instead, before his eyes were ghostly examples of what could only be house appliances and furniture. Alien to his human nature, but undoubtedly they had to be. Unconsciously, James''s fingers traced the surface of his face and met the harsh and cold surface of the metallic mask that enveloped it, and he was struck by the realization that the transformation of the room could only be attributed to the mask that now lingered in his brow.


    Perplexed, James slowly rose to his feet, looking around. Whenever his gaze touched, different structures appeared, seemingly unrealized in their shape, as if they represented a schematic of form. As he moved about, more and more structures revealed themselves, and James wished the cameras on his suit could capture the sight his eyes now traced and explored.


    His previous tiredness and heavy headache had almost been forgotten entirely at the sudden overwhelming sensation of terror that had now been substituted with a feeling of surprised elation. However, as soon as his eyes caressed the frame of what might very well be the alien ideal of a bed, weariness heavier that the world itself threatened to crush James where he stood.


    Involuntarily, his feet directed him towards the vision of comfort, as his hand longingly stretched towards it. Without knowing, he knew. He understood what needed to happen. No later than a half breath afterwards, James was on his knees before the ghostly bed frame, and his hand fully contacted with the metallic ground. And no later than a full breath afterwards, the metallic ground started to shim and shake, and contort and twist right before his eyes, transforming the translucent schematic into a solid reality.


    Different textures and a noticeable variation of softness could be seen on the bed, despite being constituted from the omnipresent metal that seemed to pursue and haunt James everywhere he went on the Wanderer.


    No later than three breaths afterwards, James''s sprawling figure laid on said bed frame, utterly oblivious to the sentient presence that observed every rise and fall of his sleeping human chest.

 Chapter 8

    8.


    Had James been awake, he would have seen It. He would have known and understood the reason for his forgetfulness. The motive that lead to the shivering sensation of being followed by eyes that were not his own. He would have seen his vulnerable sleeping frame, exposed in its exhausted state, being attentively observed by It. The One that lingers. The One who stays. The One who knows.


    Yet, the overwhelming pressure of tiredness that weighed on James¡¯s body ensured that, had the whole planet been torned asunder, he would and resume his sleep. He slept and slept, for minutes¡­hours¡­days. He could not tell. Yet, as he woke up with a groan, his stomach sure could tell, as it loudly grumbled and complained of his owner¡¯s careless neglect as if offended.


    But despite this pressing accusation, James¡¯s attention was immediately diverted by the pounding headache that threatened to blind his senses. The pain was more intense than what he had ever experienced. It felt¡­like an intrusion, like¡­something rummaged in his mind, thrashed around his thoughts disrespectfully and carelessly. And the end result was a strong cramping in his brain, and an unfocused perception of his surroundings.


    He looked around, and the ghost-like images of the furniture around him were a forceful reminder of the metal that hungrily and ruthlessly hugged his face. He gasped at the sudden memory, and a shudder travelled down his spine. He was not getting paid enough for this. As his fingers caressed the edges of the metal on his face, he jolted and quickly looked around. He could swear¡­no. Nothing, again. Just the fantastic images of furniture about to be.


    But¡­he had felt it. Stronger that before. This¡­lingering presence. An overwhelming presence. Deciding he would rather stumble than fall down a makeshift window that would no doubt appear out of thin air should he touch a wall, James stood up and began to leave the room, too uncomfortable with the prospect of staying within. Now with what could only be described as a metallic mask on his face, the interior of the building came to life, all sorts of details and floating explanations in an alien language appearing before his eyes.


    It was almost like navigating in a different place and planet, no longer been greeted by the cold, unfeeling and harsh metallic surface over and over again. The ever shifting information and ghostly images of all the potential objects to be provided a different perspective on the planet and its past inhabitants. And it filled James with the desire to see this new world that was presented to him outside the oppressing walls that threatened to trap him into their heart of metal. That¡¯s what it felt like anyway.


    He quickly found his way back outside, once again marveling at the endlessly intertwined structures. But now, they brimmed and pulsed with life and movement as animations and what seemed to be alien commercials popped into his view with each step he took across the city. It was¡­surreal, in a phantasmagorical way. Almost¡­as if he looked hard enough, he would perceive a reality underneath a reality. Like a painting underneath a painting, just waiting to be discovered and explored by its own right.


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    James shook his head, trying to clear his mind, which he immediately regretted as a sense of disorientation overpowered him. He really needed to eat something. He was starting to have thoughts that were not his own, and that was no good. When on Earth and beyond did he ever think deep things like what is the very nature of reality? Every time he thought too much he only thunk problems up, so he had decided to keep it simple a while back.


    He chuckled to himself mirthlessly and leaned onto the wall of a nearby building warily, should the wall collapse by his touch. Yet it stood firm, and James let out a sigh and plunged his hand into his pocket, retrieving some food. At this point, between the intense headache and the sensorial stimulation that the reality shown by the mask provided, he had all but forgotten how hungry he was. But as the food met his mouth, he had to contain a loud moan that nearly escaped his throat. He thought to himself that no matter how much of a jam you¡¯re in, food always tastes good. He might not believe in divine intervention, but the food sure as heck felt heavenly.


    James continued to munch lovingly on his food, now completely oblivious to his environment and lost in a trance. That¡¯s when he saw something in the corner of his eye. A shadow of sorts, imperceptible. He stopped eating, his body tensing up as the recognizable feeling of not being alone struck him. His eyes darted back and forth, searching around him desperately. Nothing again. Must have been his exhausted mind playing tricks on him. Or a temporary failure of the mask.


    He was about to take another bite of his food, as his eyes lingered straight ahead and met the presence that had followed him for so long, without his knowledge. It stood in front of the building straight ahead of James, still and tall. Dark and almost shapeless. An undefined creature, that you cannot fully assess the nature of by looking directly. It seemed to stare back.


    Time seemed to freeze as James¡¯s food fell in slow-motion, his body frozen in the face of dangerous unknown for the first time in his life. He could only stare, his mind throbbing heavily under an external pressure. Until¡­It moved. It didn¡¯t walk, or float. It was as¡­the metal itself supported its unnatural movement.


    Suddenly, James¡¯s sense of primal fear overwrote whatever force that pinned him to his place, and his shaking legs propelled him to run away. To where, it did not matter. Away. He stumbled and fell, tripped and felled again and again. Yet, the presence seem to be ever on his tail, but never reached him.


    James gasped and panted, the exertion pushing his body to limits he didn¡¯t think possible, as the stale and anemic air invaded his lungs in an aggressive intake. Soon enough, James found himself in a dead-end, leading towards an opulent building. He looked around, but there were no means of escaping other than proceeding forward.


    Refusing to look back, he cursed under his breath for what felt the thousandth time since he set foot on the ¡°Wanderer¡±, and placed his hand on the door which rapidly opened, after which, closed behind his heaving frame with a final loud thump.

 Chapter 9

    9.


    Saying that at this point, James was panting and gasping like a dying man, was an understatement. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted as he leaned against the floor, knees painfully contacting the cold floor in a harsh, merciless impact. He knew he wasn¡¯t safe from¡­whatever that was, but¡­now that he was no longer exposed to the openness of the city streets, his body had collapsed under him.


    He would have laughed and made a joke about how despite being so young, it already felt like he needed retirement, if he hadn¡¯t been so seriously shaken. So young, and so aged. How¡­young¡­again? He frowned at his own thought, confused at the lack of reply for the posed question. How old was he? Surely not too old, after all he didn¡¯t look¡­what did he look like again?


    James started to grow more and more fearful at each unanswered question, and he tightly grasped his head, closing his eyes. Breathing in¡­breathing out. Only to roughly be shaken by a fit of coughs that almost seemed to shake the entirety of the all too quiet building he was in. Damn, had he strained his lungs.


    James spit into the corner and began standing up in trembling legs, looking around for the first time. He was met with the vision of what could only be described of as a museum, or a repository of important objects and knowledge. Even if those changed from planet to planet, the feeling of being inside one didn¡¯t.


    James groaned loudly at his luck, rubbing his aching temple. He then began moving forward, and restarted the transmission, wincing as his loud steps violated the silent stillness that lingered on the sleeping museum. Despite nearly giving himself a heart attack running through deserted streets not so long ago, the serene peacefulness of the environment invited him to relax his weary muscles, and he felt his guard down ever so slightly. It was impossible not to, as his eyes began to trace the multitude of carefully arranged objects before him, each more interesting than the previous.


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    He vaguely remembered that the transmission would not capture the floating text appearing on his mask, or the animations that brought all sorts of skeletons to life in a painfully detailed fashion. James kept moving further and further away from the door, eyes still darting dangerously and with a ferocious glint every so often, but it was quickly substituted by gasps of amazement as he unravelled more and more of the Wanderer.


    His mesmerized eyes explored freely as they darted enthusiastically from one room to the next, all thoughts of the creature on temporary hold as James¡¯s mind was enthralled by each of them. Yet, the painful pressure on his mind made him recurrently aware that he was not alone. That for each gasp of marvelled surprise, a set of eyes were following him. He felt like he should be more worried, but¡­whatever it was hadn¡¯t attacked yet and¡­he felt so tired. Exhausted beyond words and thought. So much so, that concerning himself with potential demise seemed futile, and a waste of energy.


    He continued to explore the corridors and rooms in silent admiration, until he stopped abruptly in front of a display. He could not read the alien text, but¡­there seemed to be no doubt about it. Before him appeared to be the very process of fabrication of the blasted metal that covered each and last inch of the forsaken planet. His eyes widened as he followed the process, and groaned in exasperated realization as it becomes apparent that the metal was in fact, not ordinary inorganic metal.


    The first stage of the process seemed to be gathering the damaged metal and placing some sort of alien plants on top of it. It almost seemed as if the plants were expected to absorb the metal into their structure. Then automatons removed the plants, which were chopped in very small portions that were fed into an aquarium with fish. This fish would then be captured and burned until only ashes remained, and said ashes appeared to be mixed with the glowing lichen that seemed to be the only living being gracing the surface of the Wanderer.


    James looked confused at the whole thing, but he nodded to himself and congratulated himself on the fact that he had bet correctly on the metal having a living component. His eyes were beginning to flutter and flicker, as he felt himself fight to retain consciousness.


    Not wanting to hit his head and gain himself a contusion, James decided to sit on the floor, quietly observing the process displayed ahead of him as his eyes close again. Just before his eyes shut, he discerns the figure that has been pursuing him, lingering in the corner of his eye.

 Chapter 10

    10


    Breathing in, breathing out. Breathing in¡­ouch, head hurts. Those were the few words that James¡¯s mind conjured, as his slow return to awareness began to be felt.


    A sigh, followed by weary and burning eyes opening with great effort. Dimness and an overwhelmingly dark environment met James¡¯s eyes, as his tired body struggled to keep itself from failing to gain the battle to retain his consciousness.


    He rubbed his eyes more brusquely than he knew he should, but right now he couldn¡¯t make himself care anymore. With a grunt, James started to slowly get up, only to find that his knees could hardly carry his body weight without leaning onto a wall.


    He sighed and closed his eyes, slowly allowing gravity to pull him downwards towards the harsh floor. He felt tired. Not the kind of satisfied tiredness that accompanies a long day of working, or the content exhaustion of indulging in your favorite activity. Not even the feeling of having been on holidays and needing a rest from all the rest. It felt¡­like a betrayal.


    A deep, unprovoked and unfair betrayal of his young body to himself. He willed one foot to move ahead of the other, only to be met by the grimmest realization that his weak body was not his own to control, to move, to propel forward.


    That despite the jumbled commands his confused mind yelled at his muscles, not even his willpower was enough to lift his body. Of all the precarious situations James had found himself in throughout the years, there has never been a more bitter knowledge than being aware that your own body is capable of trapping you in a fate of doom. Destined to fail, it¡¯s what it felt like.


    James sighed once more, I just want to go home, he thought. Home¡­where is home? Do I¡­have a home? Someone to return to? Where do I live? Can I even call my life¡­living? Or am I simply surviving every¡­single¡­minute?


    James grit his teeth and bit his tongue down, hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang, followed by the sharp sting, provided an immediate sense of clearer thinking, yet¡­his thoughts still meandered abstractly. Unable to reach forward and grasp a line of thought to follow devotedly, his mind promiscuously moved from one idea to the next, incapable of fully forming coherent words or images. It felt like¡­interference. Outside interference, in fact.


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    The thought made him shudder, although he didn¡¯t quite know why. As it stands (or in his situation, it sits) James also came to realize that he also didn¡¯t know where he was, or what he was meant to be doing. Just¡­the constant pressing and uncomfortable feeling of having his thoughts jumbled and confused.


    He closed his eyes briefly, and then slowly looked ahead mindlessly. There was a shadow of some sort. A being, not quite hovering but also not standing. The more you looked at it, the less it seemed to exist in reality, and yet its presence silently echoed in the room.


    James could only openly gape at the sight, not sure how to react. Something about the being unsettled him deeply, and yet he could not bring himself to remember what it was. Remember¡­what are memories, how are they made? All trains of thoughts got abruptly interrupted, as the ever shifting nature of the creature seemed to slowly approach, imperceptibly so.


    No arms, legs or recognizable features were discernible in the being, but James could only look in horror as what could be interpreted as an outstretched arm reached silently forward, each smooth and constant approaching motions making it clear how inescapable the grasp of this creature could be once it held its prey.


    Suddenly, a brutal and violent intrusion of his mind tore a scream out of his throat, as a multitude of images filled his mind¡¯s eye forcefully. The speed of which the images assaulted him was enough to make his eyes water from the strain.


    A city full of alien creatures. A room filled with all sorts of cataloged beings, humans included, being studied and experimented on. The metal and it¡¯s far-reaching tendrils that encompass an entire planet. People screaming, crying. Others completely apathetic. Confusion and despair. Chaos.


    With each image granted, the headache grew more and more unbearable, blood tricking down James¡¯s nose without his consent or awareness. A mental parasite feeding on him from inside out, growing unrestrained as it consumes him and diminishes his strength.


    He held his head tightly in trembling hands, shaking and writhing on the cold unforgiving floor, as pained groans clawed out of his mouth. His sense of self felt paper thin with each passing second, as with each intrusive thought that invaded his frail mind, a dozen seemed to be robbed from him, carelessly ripped apart from his psyche in an overpowering display of brutal, unjustified violence.


    Then, an almost sickeningly tender, dark hazy grip caressed James¡¯s head possessively. Sleepiness began to took over quickly. James¡¯s heavy eyelids forcefully closed against his will.


    And suddenly, his mind completely and utterly shattered. For the first, and last time.

 Epilogue

    Epilogue


    In Ituzhu, a research fellow at the museum of Natural History frowned. It had been more than three weeks since he had last received a transmission from James.


    He sighed, musing to himself that despite common knowledge, third time¡¯s not always the charm. James was undoubtedly dead, just like the two bounty hunters he had hired previously. A waste, really.


    However, James actually manage to retrieve some useful information on The Wanderer and its history, contrary to his unfortunate peers. After all, the previous visitors of The Wanderer had provided some insight on the ancient language a few years ago, but useful information on itself was lacking.


    So, the research team was quite thrilled for their findings after translating the message and images James had sent, and having managed to decipher the following information:


    The Wanderer is not an organically formed planet, but instead is an artificially created planetary-scale ship, hence its ability to sail space and change its direction spontaneous and unjustifiably.


    The remarkable regenerative properties of the metal found on the Wanderer have been attributed to its symbiotic nature of inorganic metal, with living engineered protozoa. A feat of science that ensured that, as long as wireless control could be exerted over protozoa, they could use the metallic substrate to regenerate decaying structures. And after the creation of the ¡°Knowing One¡±, this control could be exerted planet-wide and constantly.


    This one creature that lives on the Wanderer, a being named ¡°The Knowing One¡± and later renamed ¡°The Devourer¡±. This being was a hommonculus, an artificial form of life brought to being, meant to be a living, evolving Guardian of all the knowledge of the people that lived on the Wanderer.


    It was created to access the memories and thoughts of those who dream and preserve them within itself, learning from it, for during sleep is when it becomes easier to extract them.


    It all seemed to go well at first, and the creature was becoming more learned and wiser every day, its power growing from its knowledge. It even found a way to extend its life indefinitly, to its creator¡¯s great pride and joy. Now the knowledge of the species would be safe for all time, and their civilization could progress even further, faster, with the guiding of The Knowing One.


    Generations went by, indulging in the prosperity that stemmed from the guidance provided by The Knowing One. However, people were getting progressively tired¡­so tired. As if, their energy was escaping them, a little bit every day. And also, their memories were becoming somewhat foggy, as if a cloud of dust was interposed between them and the past.


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    Soon, they had all but forgotten they existed. For the wiser The Knowing One became, the hungrier it got, as well. And so, the experiments revolving the Knowing One were abruptly interrupted, never to be pursued again.


    However, what the team leading the research didn¡¯t realize until too late, was that once the Knowing One had entered in contact with a mind, there was no physical barrier or any amount of distance that could keep it from accessing said mind, for once dominated it was theirs.


    The afflicted people ended up dying from exhaustion, despite the frantic efforts to save them. And then the worst happened. Because soon after, the bodies of the dead started to possess the same abilities of the Knowing One, acting as an extension of it, further increasing its influence on the already shattered minds of the people. The Turned Ones, they were called.


    So swift and dreadful was the hunger of the Knowing One, that the entirety of the civilization was subjugated in a matter of months. As time went on, and people¡¯s minds were destroyed progressively, the few remaining people who were still enough aware to even care started naming the creature The Devourer, for there were not enough memories, or thoughts, or ideas in the entirety of the planet to satisfy its Hunger.


    Those records were the last surviving struggle of the doomed people of the Wanderer, their last attempt at preserving some semblance of memory from the hungry talons of The Knowing One.


    However, what the research fellow at Ituzhu was oblivious to was that, as the Devourer took over all the knowledge that the people of the Wanderer were privy to, it learned to control the planet¡¯s navigation and started sailing through space in search of advanced civilizations, so it could absorb their knowledge as well.


    At this time, the Devourer was completely alone in a devastated planet, for the Turned Ones were long gone, their mortal bodies crumbling under the weight of Time. And The Devourer longed to once again extend its reach and completely consume all knowledge it could get, this time planning to preserve the Turned Ones somehow, so that it could more easily spread its influence over more than one planet at a time and become a Being Supreme, fulfilling its creators purpose to acquire all knowledge and keep it guarded, safe.


    It was during the time it spend sailing through the stars in a crusade to conquer all knowledge in the universe, that the Wanderer passed nearby Earth.


    Due to their rudimentary technology and ways, The Devourer considered humans too retrograde and insignificant to exert its influence on them, yet. It instead let them be, knowing that someday, Humanity¡¯s thirst for conquest and dominating nature would lead them to expand their reach beyond their own planet. And so it bid its time, consuming other species in the meantime.


    Now, having devoured James¡¯s memories and knowledge on Humanity and its staggering progress, it decided that the time it had been waiting for had finally come, at last. The time for Hunger.