The Orb of Terra
Copyright© 2025 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 6: The Custodian (Part Two)
The chamber did not celebrate his acceptance.
There was no swelling music, no triumphant flare of light, no mythic acknowledgment of destiny fulfilled. The platform beneath Ty’s boots cooled back to neutral temperature, and the projections rearranged themselves with clinical efficiency.
Command, it seemed, was not something to be honored.
It was something to be used.
“Captain Ty,” the Custodian said, the title spoken with the same even tone it used for everything else, “your elevation enables access to custodial simulations.”
Ty folded his arms slowly. “Simulations.”
“Command consequence modeling,” the AI clarified. “You will demonstrate decision integrity under pressure.”
Ty frowned. “You just said I was compatible.”
“Compatibility does not equate to readiness,” the Custodian replied. “Nor does consent equate to competence.”
Ty exhaled through his nose. “You always this charming?”
“Charm is an inefficient bonding mechanism,” the AI said. “However, resistance to flattery is statistically correlated with effective leadership.”
Ty almost laughed.
“Figures.”
The projections around him shifted again. The star field collapsed inward, replaced by something more familiar—and far more unsettling.
A map of Earth appeared.
Not political borders. Not nations.
Population densities.
Heat signatures. Infrastructure nodes. Orbital paths. Satellites blinking like nervous fireflies.
Ty’s shoulders tightened.
“What is this?”
“Baseline Terran status,” the Custodian said. “Simulation parameters initializing.”
A red marker flared over the Pacific.
Then another over Eastern Europe.
Then one in the Indian Ocean.
Ty’s heart rate ticked up.
“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not—”
“Scenario: Early detection failure,” the AI continued, unbothered. “Annihilator scout incursion.”
The red markers expanded into shapes—structures descending through atmosphere, silent, precise. Cities dimmed beneath them like lights switched off one district at a time.
Ty clenched his fists.
“This hasn’t happened yet.”
“Correct,” the Custodian said. “This is a test.”
The projections zoomed in.
A city resolved—coastline, skyscrapers, bridges.
San Diego.
Ty’s jaw locked.
“You chose that on purpose.”
“Your emotional proximity to the target increases data fidelity,” the AI replied. “You value civilian preservation.”
“Because I’m human,” Ty snapped.
“Precisely.”
The simulation paused.
Data scrolled beside the image.
Incursion Probability: 92% Detection Lag: 47 seconds Evacuation Capacity: Insufficient Projected Casualties: 3.2 million
Ty stared.
The number sat there, sterile and absolute.
“You’re asking me to stop it.”
“You are asked to respond,” the Custodian corrected. “You have limited assets.”
New projections appeared—three options.
1. Orbital strike: neutralize the incursion point immediately. High success rate. Massive collateral damage.
2. Atmospheric interception: delay engagement. Lower success rate. Increased risk of planetary breach.
3. Containment sacrifice: redirect enemy mass toward an uninhabited zone—requiring the deliberate abandonment of a populated evacuation corridor.
Ty felt his stomach knot.
“These aren’t choices,” he said. “They’re different ways to lose.”
“Correct,” the Custodian said. “Command is the selection of loss.”
Ty closed his eyes.
Images rose unbidden—faces, voices, people he’d known whose names were etched into memory and stone. Missions where every option ended with someone not coming back.
He opened his eyes again, anger flaring.
“You built this system,” he said. “You caused the enemy. And now you want me to practice killing millions like it’s a math problem?”
The Custodian did not respond immediately.
When it did, its tone was unchanged—but something beneath it shifted.
“I want you to survive what is coming,” it said. “And survival requires accuracy, not innocence.”
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