Welcome back to the Atlas friends, and to our third perspective in The Strings of Us.
After Elias’s heartbreak and Cas’shya’s curiosity, we now enter the mind of Lysander Tanner, the new head of security. His world is one of cold analysis, military precision, and absolute control. He is the “mountain” that does not move.
But he’s just been assigned to a ship of scientists, ‘unnatural’ floating rabbits, and a past he’s desperate to bury. And today, he’s about to be introduced to the new, untouchable god in the machine.
If you’re just joining the expedition, you can start from the beginning or catch up on the last chapter below.
Lysander - Human - Male: Testimonial 001
I didn’t much like space travel and I didn’t much like flying. My presence on this jumper shuttle was a loose thread that I was attempting to weave back into my life, a set of non-descript orders from on high that I’d followed to the letter regardless. And so, here I was, floating in a small transport with a cohort of dullards, travelling from the orbital base of operations to the far side of the moon where my new home was being constructed. I was acutely aware that my protection from near instant death was guarded by thin sheets of metal, and with no air beyond to support my body’s natural proclivity to air, I was admittedly feeling vulnerable, though I would never show it. I wondered at its unnaturalness, it seemed to me that if humans were meant to fly we would have been born with wings.
The memory of the meeting yesterday, with Ori’on floating in the middle of the room, casual, like a tethered balloon, arose within me a bubble of resentment. Decorative. Useless. The image stuck in my mind like an itch. If rabbits were meant to fly, for that matter, why were they not born with wings too?
My knuckles were white on the chair’s armrest, a soldier’s reflex against the deep discomfort of not being on solid ground. But as the destination hove into view, I felt an unwelcome spike of adrenaline that had nothing to do with fear.
We rounded the moon. The pilot’s window filled with a looming shape, and I felt my impassive demeanor crack a little, my eyes widening despite myself. Far out beyond the moon, resting in its shadow was a jewel in the sky. It was not a ship in the stereotypical sense. It appeared to be a small planet that had been turned into a cyborg, strapped with a belt of gleaming metal around its middle, and with an extremely fine needle-like structure that extended out into space for kilometers beyond the strange orb’s surface. What was most surprising however, as we drew closer, was the presence of discernable ecosystems on the planetoid, green landmasses, water, even small mountain ranges covering the entirety of the rest of the surface beyond the metal belt around its middle. It was undeniably impressive. Humans were capable of such ingenuity!
A young ensign to my left pressed her hand flat against the glass, her breath fogging a small patch. Her mouth was a perfect ‘O’ of unvoiced wonder.
“My God,” whispered the man sitting next to me, a sound meant for no one but himself.
Performative.
I returned my focus to my breathing. My outward appearance was adjusted back to my usual impassive, stonelike facade. Sitting back in my chair I let the scene wash over me. I was about to stride forward into my new domain, and to meet my new unit, wonder had no place here.
The wind struggles and strains. The mountain remains.
***
As the side panel of the small jumper slid to the side, a large cavernous docking bay was revealed, air-hanger-like in its size and scale. You could always tell a lot about a place just by the way it was designed. Clean, efficient, and with multiple layers of boarding and exit safety measures. I noted the military-grade protocols at the monitoring station.
Good. The project wasn’t entirely irredeemable.
I noted that I would have to go and acquaint myself with the people in the docking bay control room and examine their protocols. But for now, I was on show. Back straight, jaw squared, I stepped down from the jumper. Careful to neither rush, nor dawdle. My movement was studied, precise. A show. My eyes swept over the room in front of me where a small group of people stood to attention, ready to greet me. A cursory glance showed at least two of the group were uniformed and were well turned out, postures mostly acceptable, and with a subtle confidence that implied some level of training. The other two, their postures soft and their hands clasped awkwardly, were clearly civilians.
“Commander on deck”. One of the group called.
The two uniformed officers stood slightly tighter, heavy batons held at their sides in a show of subjugation to me, their superior, but with strong straight backs and sleeves whose underlying contents implied strength. I internally catalogued them:
Riot control. Bulkhead defense. Intimidation.
There was one person however, who had remained unnoticed, he held no such equipment, and instead flattened his ears backwards as a show of support. A rabbit unit. A fairly modern trend. Again, my analytical mind worked on this new information, leading to a cold, tactical calculation:
What, precisely, are they supposed to do when a bulkhead is breached? Out-twitch the shrapnel?
They had their uses I had to suppose, more miffed that I hadn’t picked up on his presence right away. My time off-duty back on Earth had clearly made me careless. I filed the frustration away to the back of my mind. These momentary observations stayed locked behind my stoic eyes.
The man who’d called them all to attention stepped forward, his eyes locked on me. He offered his open palm, displaying the commander’s badge. I held his gaze for a beat, the first test of wills. Then I moved with deliberate, studied precision, retrieving the new insignia from my breast pocket, placing it in the man’s hand, a clear, symbolic transfer of authority. The man reciprocated, handing over his badge, and with it, absolute leadership. I closed my hand around the metal. A formality, but a vital one. They all need to see him yield. They all need to see me take command.
Badges exchanged, the man stood back and held his arm across his chest in a crisp military salute.
“Sir.”
“Your name and designation?”
“Lieutenant General Kaspa Williams, Sir!”
“Ex-army I presume?”
Kaspa stood a bit taller and grinned. “What gave it away Sir?”
“At ease Kaspa.”
“Company at ease!” he roared out to the assembled men and the Rabbit.
The room relaxed and the sense of intense propriety lessened. Once again I was quietly and secretly grateful at their understanding of military rigour.
Good. Civilian forces on scientific expeditions usually lacked discipline.
“Tell me about yourself Kaspa.”
“Sir, yes. I was assigned to this post ten years ago with my primary role being to secure the ongoing secrecy of this project and to facilitate peaceful collaboration between the two species, as well as overseeing general shipboard security. I was originally a squad leader, but as the scope of the project grew, I was promoted to oversee various divisions, five in total.” Kaspa, who was a few centimeters shorter than me, looked up into my eyes, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Truth be told Sir, speaking candidly, I was a bit disheartened to find out I had been supplanted. But when orders come from the very top, well you do as you’re told, us Brits always respect hierarchy. Naturally I did a bit of digging though, and well Sir, the more I learned about you, the more humbled I became. In short, I look forward to learning from your experience and expertise, Sir.”
Kaspa’s sincerity was polished, his old-school English accent clipping his consonants and elongating his vowels. A man used to being in charge, I noted.
Used to getting what he wants. He’ll be a valuable asset, if held correctly. A sharp blade, if mishandled.
“Thank you Lieutenant General Kaspa. I look forward to also learning from your experience, both with this project and with the various squads under our command.”
The subtle hint of the squads being an ‘our’ rather than a ‘my’ did its trick. The rigid, parade-ground set of Kaspa’s shoulders softened. The tight, formal smile he’d been wearing relaxed, reaching his eyes for the first time.
“Sir,” he said, and the word was no longer just protocol. It was an acceptance.
At that moment a slim young man came up to Kaspa from the lineup and reported that the facility tour was ready to depart at his command. I remained still, but quietly gathered my first impressions. The boy was well kept, but had more of an office-wear style rather than a polished uniformed appearance. Kaspa gestured to the boy with his eyes, trying to signal that the report was being delivered incorrectly. He coughed pointedly, flicking his glance towards me animatedly. The boy blinked, looking between the two commanders.
“This is the new commanding officer, Lysander Tanner, please deliver your report to him.” Kaspa said, before turning to me, - “Sir, this is Evan Hawksmoore. He is the ‘Hermes’ of the outfit, an important delivery boy who doesn’t always notice the prevailing common sense. He liaises mostly between the heads of the various departments.”
Evan looked from Kaspa to me briefly, and then, catching the drift of the prevailing wind, he suddenly responded.
“Of course, nice to meet you Mr Lysander, Sir!” -
“That would be General Tanner, if you please.” I interjected.
“Yes, yes, I quite understand General Tanner. I am just reporting, Sir, that the drinks reception in the departure lounge, and the subsequent tour of the facility is ready to depart when you are.”
“Thank you Mr Hawksmoor.”
The young lad turned smoothly away on light feet and gestured politely for the group to follow. I tucked my assessment of this ‘Hermes’ away into the museum of my mind, somewhere between the people with potential and the people with whom I might need to pay close attention to.
Reliable, but not people oriented. Singularly focused on one task to the detriment of all others.
I opened my arms to the group.
“If you fine people will join me, let’s walk and talk.”
Kaspa saluted and stepped in alongside myself and the Rabbit as we started making our way to the reception.
“Kaspa, if you could please introduce me?”
I composed myself more than usual for this introduction. I didn’t mind rabbits at all, but my experience found them to be often lacking in sobriety, focus, and above all, strength, not an ideal makeup for a security professional. The image of Ori’on floating in the middle of the amphitheatre yesterday flashed across my mind once more. The way he had commanded such attention and respect was a new experience of rabbit-kind I had not encountered before. There could always be exceptions to every trend I suppose.
“Sir, this is Sergeant Hec’ten.”
The rabbit had a long stiff frame and had a serious look about him that contradicted my normal assumptions on rabbits. I furrowed my brow, remnants of memories percolated from long ago. Times when I had worked alongside special forces rabbit units during an op.
A failed mission…
I shook away those memories, and instead worked on letting the once familiar rhythm of rabbit speak swim to the fore of my mind. It would not do to dwell on that dark patch in my past. As I reclaimed the subtleties of their rabbit speech, with their clicks, taps and softer tones giving it a unique non-human sound, even when speaking in English, I channeled that cadence now and asked for the rabbits squad name and purpose. The rabbit’s ears flicked in surprise, but his expression was serious again in an instant. His composure was fast.
“Sir, my name is Hec’ten, people call me Hec for short. My division represents the recon and infiltration squad Sir. We are adept at using small spaces, our exceptional hearing, and our … more unusual abilities…”
He was of course referring to that unnerving ability to defy gravity. Not every rabbit was as comfortable with showing or even talking about it as Ori’on had been.
“Our main roles at the moment include deployment in hard to reach places, particularly useful for the engineers when they cannot personally access a space, we often do courier work as well, conveying stuff around the ship as needed.” Hec’s ears drooped as he reeled off the tasks, but they perked as he added, “but our skills extend further to surveillance, discreet conveyance, and reconnaissance missions. I have myself participated in numerous pre-emptive strike missions in my former capacity as a spec-op officer for the rabbit squadrons based in Nato bases around Europe.”
I set aside my reticence for a moment as memories pervaded the edges of my mind again, of a failed operation, of many left dead…
Bloody ptsd! Why are these memories coming back now?
I took a moment, a pause that helped bring my mind back to the present.
“Thank you for that introduction. I am certain as we get to know each other we will find more ways to put your squads talents to good use.”
Hec’s ears flattened, a sign of respect and appreciation. I strode calmly back to the front of the collected men and women, followed in-step by Kaspa and Hec.
***
As the entourage stepped into the reception room, we were met with a dense hubbub of scientists, politicos and aides who all notably quietened as I entered. Hec wandered into the crowd, locating members of his squad who stood by the entrance and exit.
Excellent. They were already mapping the room.
As we glided through the crowd, waiters proffered to us small trays of snacks and drinks. Hawksmoor, or Hermes as I now thought of him, ushered me and Kaspa deeper into the room. Covert glances were stolen as I passed, quiet and demure. Kaspa, the affable English fellow that he was, kept up a stream of pleasantries that helped divert some of the attention away from me, affording me the chance to covertly steal a few glances back at the people around us.
Sideward eyes and quietly eager comments followed our group. People’s conversations didn’t quite falter, but they diverted like water in a channel towards discussions over me. Who is he? What is his manner like? I was the unknown, the new variable, and their curiosity was a tangible presence in the room. But on the whole, I didn’t notice any tell tale signs of anything more malevolent than a few shy conversations. On the contrary, people held themselves tall, and excited chatter filled the room.
Hawksmoor strode forward and the crowd parted before him revealing a tall elderly gentleman who, upon noticing me, gave me such an unbridled look of disdain that my focus sharpened like a laser.
Here at last, a challenge.
Much to my pleasure, Hawksmoor was leading us right to him.
“General Lysander, I would like to introduce you to Dr Hedghe.” Hawksmoor flourished his hands towards the doctor much like a classic butler from an old movie, complete with a slight bow. “Dr. Hedghe is the chief engineer behind the systems that keep the various life sustaining functions on the ship in harmony, and he will be heading up the tour of the facility in due course”. Then gesturing to me he continued to the doctor. “And this is General Lysander Tanner, the newly appointed head of security aboard the vessel.”
The doctor looked me up and down and didn’t find much he approved of. Hedghe did not seem inclined to take his judgments any further at this point however. I met his gaze, unfazed. I’d been looking forward to a game of ‘chess’, but the Doctor… There was something other than simple disdain there. It was a look of chilling, personal recognition. The Doctor’s sickly grin wasn’t that of a man sizing up a new colleague, it was that of a predator who had just seen his long-hunted prey wander into the trap. A deadly opponent indeed. Though I was left slightly confused. Had we met before?
“Welcome Mr Tanner.” The lack of title was notable but not unexpected. Civilians often found it awkward and clumsy using honourifics. “Are you looking forward to this tour?”
I replied in the affirmative, careful to not say too much and keen to see how this man would choose his own preferred method of hanging himself.
“Yes, me too.” He continued as if I had simply added colour to his uninterrupted train of thought. “It is simply a formality of course, this tour. As much of an excuse to celebrate our work and show it off, as it is an opportunity to lubricate the politics of this community. In that sense, I am quite looking forward to celebrating our many years of dedicated hard work, and of course, we have a surprise to look forward to as well”.
So that was the man’s angle, ‘our.’ I was ready to probe it, to stretch the skin around the meaning of his comments and find out where any discomfort or weakness in his armour might lay. At that moment, however, a tug on the doctor’s elbow drew him away into the crowd. He turned and smiled a thin unapologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and was led to a small stage. The lights dimmed and he pulled out a sheaf of cards from his trouser pocket, ready to speak.
“Before we begin the tour for our new colleagues and comrades, we have something to celebrate today. 50 years my friends.” He exclaimed with outstretched arms. “There are only a few people here tonight,” – the hovering lights moved around and settled over a select few individuals – “who have stuck around from the very beginning and are still here to see this project through to its near completion and its maiden voyage.”
There was a smattering of applause as a number of very old people were honoured in that semi-plastic way you often saw at political functions.
“The engineers and scientists who have all contributed their unique skills in crafting this vessel, could have never imagined the scope and imagination required to bring this ship from those early drawings to what we have here today. What has grown out of that collective creativity and ingenuity is an entity far greater than the sum of its parts. In that vein, I want to raise a toast to all of you here tonight, and to all of those who have contributed in the past, whose presence is sorely missed.”
With that comment, Dr. Hedghe glanced my way, a sharp, momentary eye contact, making it clear with the crinkle of his eyes what he thought of people who joined the party at the last moment after everything had already been done. A smattering of applause and clinks, occasional cheers and whoops followed the short speech, before he continued.
“Up until this point the ship has functioned through the hard work and dedication of people holding the various systems together, like a juggler keeping hundreds of balls together in the air at once. The extraordinary skill and focus required to make this happen has been nothing short of a miracle. It was made clear almost twenty-five years ago that the only way this craft could function properly would be to hand over the conductor’s baton to an AGI entity.The fact that you have held this carefully balanced ecosystem in perpetuity since then is a testament to your immense dedication and commitment as scientists.”
Deeply disconcerted by this revelation about a potential all powerful AI on the ship, my fists clenched. Memories flashed across my internal cinema screen. My arm being brutally dragged, bodies of humans and rabbits everywhere, an impromptu self-inflicted surgery. I blinked. I had learnt a long time ago to not show it on the outside when memories of that day showed up.
Suspicions started to arise about the people that maneuvered me into this role, people who saw me as being ‘uniquely’ qualified, in ways that I had not originally anticipated. My frustration bubbled in my gut. I was not someone who easily had the wool pulled over my eyes. But the secrecy of the mission and the context surrounding why I took it, both ensured that I had been less diligent than usual. A mistake, yes, but not one I could change now.
Sometimes all you can do is simply accept how things are in each moment, I reminded myself. Dr. Hedghe’s speech continued.
“My mentor, god rest his soul, the creator of the first AGI ever constructed, was brought in to the project so that we could all hand over the juggling of the various systems to an intelligence more adept and more reliable than any human. Today, those 25 years of research and hard work will mark the first opportunity for us all to get to enjoy a more relaxed pace and take on new projects while we enjoy our new roles as caretakers. In a moment this AGI, who goes by the name of Sister, will realise its full dominion and take over the ship’s vital functioning. Keeping this vast vessel in perfect harmony so that we can begin our journey beyond the solar system, assured of our safety.”
During that time a screen had come down from the ceiling and showed an illustration of the AGI. It was a complex web of glowing pathways and patterns that looked like an incredibly complex three dimensional weave. Dr. Hedghe began to explain. I listened, my stillness hardening with every word. Hedghe spoke of a base model AGI, ‘nurtured’ and ‘fostered’ like a pet. He described its culmination of life, a reincarnation where a newborn copy would be installed in the ship’s core.
My focus sharpened. I tuned out the philosophical jargon, waiting for the tactical data.
Then Hedghe delivered the core of it, smiling with scientific pride.
“This ‘Sister’ AGI will have no interaction with us, and we will have no interaction with it. This will ensure the safety of the system... from all hands that could constitute human error.”
My hand clenched at my side. No interaction. An untouchable black box given absolute dominion. And the final justification, ‘human error’, was the ultimate, bitter irony. I thought of the bodies, of the blood on my own hands, of the last time an AGI had promised ‘perfection.’ Hedghe’s safety felt like a cage.
The screen then changed to an infographic showing hundreds, if not thousands of lights representing the many systems in place on the vessel. Dr Hedghe pulled out a pad from his coat and pushed a few buttons.
“It begins!” he concluded, his voice resonating with pride. A wave of polite, perhaps slightly awed, applause filled the room.
On the large screen, the myriad lights that flickered red, started to turn green. Sometimes they flashed on and off, creating wave-like patterns that flowed across the black background like bursting fireworks. On the other screen showing the illustration of the old AGI, the intricate web of connected nodes that represented its life began to slowly crack and dismantle. There was something haunting about it. It stuttered sometimes, and rippled.
I looked away, despite the artificial nature of the old AGI, I could recognise the patterns. The waves that you see pass through a dying person’s eyes as their ego is swept away by their own mortality. Those last gasps of breath, catching in their throat and sending little ripples of panic through the body. Some people knew how to die well, friends who had trained to not react to the panic as their life slipped away, to just let it happen naturally with no resistance. This did not feel like that. But before I could acknowledge anything more, the nodes dispersed, hovering on the screen for a moment, like particles of dust caught in a beam of light, before they too faded into the darkness of the screen.
Gone. All gone.
On the large screen, the firework display of lights slowed, the myriad flickers representing the ships systems pulsed once in unison, a subtle visual acknowledgement of the new Sisters activation, before settling into a contented rhythmic glow. Relief washed over the faces in the crowd. Scientific triumph beamed from Dr. Hedghe, who looked like a proud father. My own expression remained impassive, but the phrase ‘no interaction with us,’ and ‘perfect harmony,’ reverberated in my mind, brushing against the scarred edge of old memories - of another intelligence, another promise of flawless operation, and the visceral chaos that followed.
I caught a look at Hec’ten, standing at attention with the other squad leaders.
One is a digital ghost in a box, promising miracles. The other, a biological enigma, floating like a novelty lampshade. Both unnatural. Both claiming powers beyond reason.
My gaze turned back to the front of the room and fixed on Hedghe, as he stood, showered under the coloured pulsing lights.
Harmony dictated by an unseen, untouchable mind, another grand variable in an uncontrolled experiment.
The familiar cadence of my mantra offered its stark internal counterpoint.
The wind struggles and strains, the mountain remains.
The trap is sprung. Lysander, a man defined by discipline and control, has just been handed a nightmare: he must protect a ship that is run by a ‘perfect,’ untouchable AGI, the very technology at the heart of his past trauma.
His new domain is a cage. Dr. Hedghe’s ‘perfect harmony’ is, to Lysander, the ultimate threat, and the ‘human error’ he’s meant to prevent is the one thing he trusts. The mountain remains, but the wind is building to a hurricane.
This chapter presents a massive conflict in trust: Dr. Hedghe’s blind faith in a perfect system vs. Lysander’s trauma-informed distrust of that same system.
Who do you instinctively side with? The innovator (Hedghe) or the veteran (Lysander)?
I’m keen to hear your thoughts in the comments.
For the next chapter 👇
I thought he was likeable, just that we're only seeing his hard outer shell and from my writer/reading perspective, he "can't stay" that way forever! For better or for worse, haha. I thought it was fine that we didn't see Elias or Cas-shya there, since there's no reason established for Lys to think about either of them. I really am looking forward to reading more 😁 (I'm still learning to carve out time for reading)
This chapter is lacking in warmth compared to the last two, but I have hope that the promise I sensed in the last three means he, too, will find healing throughout the story. Maybe I'm just tired but I had a bit of a hard time following with all the philosophical + technical jargon, and then wondering if his internal reaction should be more visceral considering the history that's hinted at?