Black Luna's corridors were clearly designed with simplicity in mind. Witilla clattered her way through the chalk-white corridors with an almost comforted familiarity, whereas Barion couldn't find a spare moment to calm himself down. He was used to the natural clutter and obscurity of comparatively amateurish architecture. He didn't stop to wonder where all the doors and passages could lead. Probably further into the labyrinth of sterility, where the empty computer rooms had been awaiting the touch of a human for over 1 billion years.
His eyes were drawn to the letters embossed upon the hallway's furthest exit. For an instant, they were a puzzle of incomprehensible symbols, but as he focused his gaze, they transformed into readable symbols. A fuzzy feeling ran through his eyes.
"Containment Cells…" He read the lettering aloud to prove he could still speak.
"This is where me and my siblings were created and raised." Witilla responded, "It's only a short walk towards the Central Processing Unit."
Barion didn't answer her. His mind wandered to the warning she had given him just 20 minutes ago. Witilla had recommended to him in no uncertain terms that he move through the Containment Cells as quickly as possible. She didn't tell him precisely why--perhaps she didn't want him to know. The girl picked up on his silence immediately. There was no hiding his desire to disobey her.
"...Are you wondering about what I said earlier?"
"I am." He answered honestly, "You said there was something I wouldn't want to see. But that's only made me more curious about what it might be."
"Maybe telling you to 'move quickly' wasn't entirely correct…" She muttered, "It's more like… you might see something that catches your interest. I think that it would be for the best if you didn't investigate. But… I also can't stop you from satisfying that curiosity."
"Nothing's going to stop me from destroying Black Luna today." He vowed, "I've already learned so many horrible things… it would kill me not to understand the whole truth now that we've come so far."
"...I understand." She replied, "Then, shall we move on?"
The two of them continued wordlessly through the automated doorway. The corridor that greeted them on the other side was short enough to see the end. It was identical to the research lab's hallway, only the doors were no longer equidistant, and above each was a line of stark-black lettering. Barion recognised a few of them. 'Hyperion'. 'Prometheus'. But most went completely over his head. That was, until they approached the rooms at the back of the corridor.
Barion read the wording plainly, as if he'd expected to see it all along. 'SEED 1', the door wrote, and 'SEED 2' just beside it. Black Luna's classification for the self that existed outside of himself. The man he was created to be--or, rather, the one he was destined to become.
Witilla allowed him just a moment of silence before speaking, "...At some point during the last Demon Age, this room is… well, it's where you were born."
"Of course… I always wondered what a human couple could have been doing in the Henklomeon Steppe…" He lowered his head, "I was never a true human to begin with. Just another experiment, like you… and like Manyu."
"...Do you want to enter?"
"I thought you didn't want me to?"
"That's true, but… even I'm not certain what to expect. But I don't think it will be pleasant."
"Go on, then." He encouraged, "It's the only chance we're going to get."
The door slid open without any fuss as Witilla approached it. The chamber inside was crushed by darkness. A set of fluorescent lights flickered to life seconds later, illuminating a number of foggy, cylindrical tubes half-stuck in the walls. Barion's eyes couldn't focus on anything but the window at the far end. It covered almost the entire wall, separating the room from the cold vastness of space by a matter of inches. The burning globe of white and blue--a sight he hadn't been given the chance to appreciate during their approach, sprawled out in the abyss like some grand celestial creature.
"Hm. Hard to believe we're really this high up." He wandered towards the viewport, "Or, does 'height' not have meaning anymore?"
"There is a similar viewport in my cell." Witilla joined him, "This was the only view of the world I was allowed until my release from the station."
"I can't imagine Dorma and the others down there." Barion tried pointlessly to pin down the exact location of Gria, "...When we destroy Black Luna, will it fall down to the planet?"
"That's… a very complicated question." She replied, "The station is currently in a stable orbit, so if we were to shut it down without damaging the infrastructure, it would be in no danger of striking the planet. But if it received critical structural damage… well, the chances of it striking a major settlement are relatively low. I think the most likely outcome is that it will fall into the ocean."
"If we 'disable' it, won't the Caretakers just fix the damage?"
"No. The central infrastructure of Black Luna's mother intelligence is manufactured from a self-repairing biological alloy which requires incredibly precise machinery in order to create. Any damage to the Central Processing Unit is practically irreparable."
"-But I take it breaking the mother intelligence down isn't going to be the simplest task?"
"We have avoided any confrontations with the station's Combat Drones thanks to the neural chip, but Black Luna cannot be shut down from a terminal. The station was designed to be autonomous, and so a shutdown procedure was never implemented specifically to counter attempts to disable it. Attempts such as ours."
"So we're in for a fight."
"Yes. But the combat power of retrofitted Caretakers cannot be understated." She warned, "We must be careful, Barion…"
"Don't worry. I'm not going to rush in without thinking."
A sound caught their attention--deep bubbling behind a prison of glass. The two of them had been so concerned with the view that their reasons for entering the room had begun to dissolve away. Barion couldn't help but be reminded of the biomass containers in the Demonic Facility, although at a glance, there seemed to be nothing within the array of cells sinking into the walls of his supposed birthplace.
He walked up to one of the tubes. His brow furrowed as a silhouette trembled behind the haze of condensation and murkiness. He used a hand to brush away some of the droplets on the surface of the glass, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of what lurked beneath.
Something fleshy and miniscule hovered in the fluid of the tank. A wire of muscle danced from the lump's midsection down to the unseen floor. The tank-thing's features were distorted and undeveloped--not quite human or inhuman, but something in-between. The fat digits sprouting from its arms contracted gently around the bubbling amniotic fluid, as if searching for the touch of someone.
"...W… What is this?" Barion blinked, "Is that… a child?"
A dribble of sweat flew from his forehead to his eyebrows. For some reason, his blood quickened. Something pressed against the side of his skull--a thought, or a memory, trying desperately to force its way out, but which couldn't express itself as anything more complicated than a vestigial loneliness.
"...Who is this?" His lower lip trembled. Witilla felt herself shrinking away from the answer. She hoped that Barion would suddenly forget about her presence, but he turned to face her without hesitation.
"Don't tell me…" His eyes pleaded with hers, "There has to be another explanation…"
"I tried to warn you." She recalled, "I thought… you would regret discovering the truth."
Barion felt an urge to return his gaze to the cell, or any of the others lining the wall, even if the sight of it made him sick to his stomach. He forced himself to wipe the sight from his memory, but a morbid familiarity immediately surfaced to replace it. The childrens' eyes were closed. He would have almost certainly lost his mind if one of them attacked him with its piercing gaze--his piercing gaze.
"The Barion who lived during Avl II's reign…" He muttered, "He wasn't just some impossible coincidence. He was me. A me outside of myself."
"Genetic cloning has been feasible for many thousands of years." Witilla spoke up, "It was just under 9,000 years ago when the first cloned animal was created, and for that long, there have been countless debates regarding the ethics of genetic modification, especially involving humans. With that said, there have still been cases of especially wealthy humans using genetic cloning and brain transplants as a method of attaining eternal life."
"But… these newborns aren't me, are they?"
"That's… they are your clones, albeit in the developmental stage. I imagine the properties of age-reversing nanomachines have been put to sustain their unconscious, infantile bodies."
"But--that's cruel! A child shouldn't be treated like some sort of commodity!"
"They… I don't think they're aware of their surroundings."
"That's no excuse!" He exclaimed, "This isn't something that can be pardoned for the sake of a research project! This is tampering with the cycle of life! It's playing God!"
"I know. I understand that…" She muttered, "It's likely that most of your inherent strength is the result of invasive modifications to your genetic code. The science of 'eugenics', or, eliminating undesirable traits while preserving the most beneficial… as you can imagine, it's also quite a controversial subject among scholars."
"I don't care where my strength came from." Barion defied, "-My existence will be Black Luna's first and final mistake. Perhaps I have no right to make use of this power, but the people I've come to know over these long centuries… the battles I've endured… there's more to me than what Black Luna instilled."
"...Yes." Witilla nodded, "I suppose that's true."
"The same is true for you." He continued, "Like me, you were created as a tool of destruction, but you've become an irreplaceable ally to so many people by opposing your destiny. The two of us are the only ones with the right to end this on our own terms."
"...Is it really as simple as that?"
"It is--when those around you are prepared to look past what you were created to be." He encouraged, "That's why we're fighting. To chase after the lives we deserve, but were never given. And that's why we can't afford to fail here. Not while we're standing right on top of the sacrifices that were made to get us this far."
The truth of his origin had shaken Barion, but he had simply come too far to consider giving up. Artificial or otherwise, his strength had delivered many innocent lives from despair. Witilla didn't know how to feel about his words--she had never expected to be treated like a human by the man who was destined to be her sworn enemy, but there the two of them stood, mere inches away from the culmination of their many efforts.
"...That's right." She agreed quietly, "I'm certain that this world is even more beautiful than I first thought. And… for the first time, I feel as if I have a proper place, beyond the whims of Black Luna."
"Then it's time." Barion resolved, "Whatever happens to us… we'll absolutely make sure that this planet has a future unburdened by Demons."
He couldn't help but cast a glance behind him as the two departed from the room. His foetal selves were pitifully unaware of the trials they were destined to endure. As the lights flickered and the chamber descended into darkness, he took refuge in the fact that, by destroying Black Luna, he would be saving them from a lifetime of puppeteered heroism.
The entrance to the Central Processing Unit was as plain as any other. But for Barion and Witilla, it was the curtain that separated them from the stage upon which the final battle of their struggle would be fought. Barion could scarcely believe he was standing there, at the climax of his long journey, or that the unravelling mystery of Demonkind had led him beyond the confines of his small planet. And yet, despite his hesitation, a long-lost tranquillity surfaced in his heart.
"It's finally time…" He repeated, "-Time to bring this endless war to a close."