He turned back to the droid. "Come on, you heap of scrap," he whispered. "Talk to me."
He connected his data-pad to the droid’s port. The screen flickered with chaotic static. The encryption was absolute. It didn't want a code; it wanted a voice print. It wanted intent. aagmaa
Nomin-Erdene packed a small bag, said goodbye to her tearful family, and set out onto the steppes. She rode her own horse, a sturdy mare named Khulan, across the endless grasslands, facing scorching sun, pouring rain, and even a pack of hungry wolves. He turned back to the droid
The dust on the moon of Aethelgard did not settle; it hovered, a perpetual shroud of grey that choked the lungs and dulled the mind. It was a place of exiles, a dumping ground for the refuse of the Core Systems. The screen flickered with chaotic static
He looked back at the floating light. The word Aagmaa echoed in his mind— The First Breath .
The scrubbers around the colony groaned and died, obsolete. They were replaced by the sound of wind—the first true wind Aethelgard had known in a thousand years. The heavy gravity seemed to lighten, the pressure equalizing as the atmosphere thickened with oxygen.
The transformation took three days. By the end of the week, the colony was unrecognizable. The rusted shacks were overgrown with flowering vines that bloomed in the twilight. The acidic pools of water had cleared into crystalline lakes.