The Orb of Terra
Copyright© 2025 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 7: The Custodian (Part Three)
The Custodian did not give Ty time to rest.
The chamber lights had barely stabilized when the air itself seemed to tighten—pressure shifting, not physically but informatively, like a sudden intake of breath across a thousand sensors.
Ty felt it before the AI spoke.
A sharp, focused alert ran through his bloodstream. The nanobots didn’t burn or buzz; they aligned, like a team snapping to attention.
“External anomaly detected,” the Custodian said. “Classification: Non-simulated.”
Ty’s spine straightened. “Where?”
The projections reassembled instantly—not hypothetical this time. Live feeds layered in translucent arcs. Ocean. Night. A rolling surface broken by whitecaps.
Coordinates resolved.
Pacific Ocean. International waters. Two hundred miles west of Baja.
“What am I looking at?” Ty asked.
“A probe,” the Custodian replied. “Annihilator vanguard asset.”
Ty’s jaw clenched. “You said fifty years.”
“Estimated arrival for full fleet,” the AI corrected. “Scouting elements precede convergence.”
On the projection, something moved beneath the waves.
Not fast. Not aggressive.
Intentional.
The ocean bulged upward, water parting around a dark, geometric shape rising from below. No splash. No violence. Just displacement, as if physics itself were politely stepping aside.
Ty felt cold crawl up his arms.
“That’s not a drill,” he said.
“Correct.”
New data streamed in.
A civilian research vessel sat nearby, its lights bright against the dark sea. A crew of eighteen. Marine biologists. Weather analysts. People whose biggest concern that night had been funding renewals and bad coffee.
They had noticed something.
The ship altered course slightly.
Ty watched the moment the probe noticed them noticing.
The geometry shifted—subtle, almost graceful. A filament of light extended, invisible until it wasn’t. The research vessel’s instruments spiked wildly. Radios crackled. One of the feeds caught a human voice shouting in confusion.
Ty felt his chest tighten.
“Stop it,” he muttered.
“Command options available,” the Custodian said, already presenting vectors. “However—time to decision is limited.”
Ty didn’t look at the options.
“How long until they’re dead?” he asked.
“Projected neutralization in three minutes,” the AI replied. “Passive harvest. No malice.”
Ty laughed once, sharp and humorless. “That’s supposed to make it better?”
“Intent does not alter outcome,” the Custodian said.
Ty moved.
He stepped onto the platform, hands braced at his sides.
“What assets do I have?” he demanded.
A brief pause.
“None,” the Custodian said. “That can be overtly deployed.”
Ty closed his eyes.
He saw the simulation again—numbers falling, probabilities adjusting.
This time, there were faces.
“Then give me covert,” he said.
The Custodian processed.
“Clarify.”
“You said you’re a custodian,” Ty said. “That means you maintain systems. You intervene without being seen.”
The AI paused longer than it had before.
“Yes.”
“Then do that,” Ty said. “Don’t fight it. Confuse it. Make it leave.”
The projection zoomed in on the probe. Data scrolled faster.
“Risk assessment: Uncertain,” the Custodian said. “Probe intelligence is adaptive.”
“So are humans,” Ty snapped. “You taught us that.”
Another pause.
Then—
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