Metamorphosis Alpha 2

by Craig Martelle (ed)

  Arnold, sleeping since they escaped the disastrous meeting with the Wolfhead leader, opened one eye just enough to see him.

  “I should put you down and make you walk.”

  The rat closed its eye and went very still, too motionless to be sleeping but it was a nice act. Ryan chuckled. He approached the doors and studied them as he placed his cybernetically enhanced pet on the ground.

  “I must go inside.” He retrieved his tool belt and crowbar from his the shed around back and faced the doors with grim determination.

  Arnold chittered at him, shaking his head with his eyes closed.

  The door opened easily now because he knew what he was doing. If he could at least make the spotlights work, he might avert the crisis that was sure to come. He looked over his shoulder, then ducked inside, shining his flashlight on the body. Flies buzzed around the corpse. He pulled his shirt collar up to cover his nose.

  The thin body and its strange clothing made him sad. Squatting near the dead man, he thought of all the times he had performed the Ascension ritual. Was there a family who had left trinkets and mementos to make themselves feel better about his passing? Would he be missed? Had he been a criminal denied food and water until the misery of his life drove him to jump down the shaft?

  He looked upward. The dark shaft stretched to infinity. Funny to imagine someone jumping down when all we think about is going up.

  Something moved above him. Ryan backed away from the body and tried to hide in the corner while still watching the small collection of lights as whatever carried them climbed down the neglected ladder.

  “Well, Arnold, looks like we are about to encounter creatures from above. We should go up before it finds us with this body.”

  Arnold shook his head side to side so hard that he fell over.

  Ryan rubbed his hands together several times, then wiped sweat from his brow as the mechanically augmented animal chastised him. He started climbing one painful notch at a time, wishing he had proper climbing tools for the ladder that didn’t seem to be made for humans. His resolve increased the farther he ascended. What would he find on the next ledge?

  Nothing.

  Closed doors.

  Whatever movement he had seen above was farther up than he had guessed. He climbed another level and stopped to shake his fingers and massage his calves. Strange sensations pulsed through his spine. The cold feeling of being watched twitched at his nervous system.

  With deliberate slowness, he turned his gaze upward and saw something peering over the edge at him. The face wasn’t right. There were too many lights in the wrong places. It was as though a child had imagined a helmet with clusters of tiny flashlights all over the face.

  Fear gripped Ryan. He looked down. Home seemed a thousand meters away rather than the twenty he had ascended. Above him, the figure flashed lights in his direction. The intensely random pattern disoriented him. He grabbed the wall and held on.

  Arnold hissed.

  The lights went out, plunging him into total darkness.

  Ryan saw nothing for a while, then the glimmer of a reflection. Another attack of the disorientation lights forced him against the wall a second time. He closed his eyes, wondering if this were a dream or a nightmare. Had one of the Wolfhead jesters put something in his coffee?

  He shook his head, closed his eyes, and focused on pleasant memories with Esmerelda on a warm summer day.

  Closer now, the lights came on and stayed on. The creature was turning its head to scan the walls for footholds and control panels. Or perhaps it was looking for a way to kill him.

  “What do we do, Arnold?”

  The rat scurried to a very strange, very small door, nudged it with his snout, then looked over his shoulder at Ryan.

  “It’s too late for that, I think,” he whispered. “Besides, I can’t fit through that.”

  The man was covered in metal. Moving in perfect rhythm, he completed the descent and stepped onto the floor near Ryan. “You are trespassing in a restricted zone. Please present your security badge.”

  Ryan paused to decipher the ritualistic old-speech of the stranger. No one had ever asked to see his badge. He patted the shirt of his jumpsuit, worried he had left the badge in his cottage. “My name is Ryan Priest. I’m the Manager for Ascension.”

  “Please present your security badge for inspection.” The metal man remained as motionless as a statue, shining a powerful beam of light into Ryan’s eyes.

  Hands shaking, Ryan found the badge and handed it to the armored man. He considered showing the badge he recovered from the dead body, but quickly pushed the idea aside.

  “This is adequate. Stand by for inspection,” the stranger said, then slid the badge into his mouth.

  “Hey!”

  “Please remain where you are. A human officer has been summoned to this location,” the stranger said without moving his mouth.

  “You’re not human?”

  “I am Automated Security Unit 14-9-5. Please stand by. Do you possess weapons?”

  “No, I didn’t think I would need one.”

  “Your analysis is correct. Be advised, your badge does not authorize you to carry weapons above the agricultural level.”

  “Can you turn off that light?”

  The light redirected out the side of the metal man’s helmet, diffusing to a pleasant intensity. “Is that acceptable.”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Please answer yes or no.”

  “Yes…”

  “Thank you, Ryan Priest.”

  Ryan studied the metal statue-man as he waited. Time passed slowly. He thought he heard something from below, but decided it was his imagination. Noises came from above with increasing frequency. Another man climbed down, struggling with the depressed ladder rungs and muttering complaints.

  “You have special shoes! Why didn’t I think of that?” Ryan said as the newcomer let go of the wall and faced him.

  “Well, yes. I suppose I do,” the man said. He smoothed his jump suit. Then, with a snap-click, the toes of the shoes retracted.

  Ryan stared. “That’s marvelous.”

  “You’re so big,” the new man said. “What the hell have you been eating?”

  “Uh…my name is Ryan Priest. I’m the Funeral Manager for Ascension.”

  “The what? Never mind. I am Sergeant Yondel, security supervisor for the night shift. What are you doing in the elevator shaft?”

  Ryan shifted nervously. “The Funeral Lift for Ascension is more than a mere elevator.”

  Yondel furrowed his brow, then scanned the area with a device that glowed from one end. “Who is your friend?”

  “Arnold is my cyber-rat.”

  “I see that. But I am referring to the other person in the elevator shaft, not your maintenance bot,” Yondel said.

  Ryan looked around the platform, then over the edge into darkness. Esmerelda reached up and grabbed the edge of the platform with one beautiful hand as the other clung desperately to the ladder that wasn’t a ladder. “Help me, Ryan! I’m about to fall. Why are we so far up?”

  He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to safety. “Why are you following me? No one is supposed to enter the Funeral Lift for Ascension.”

  The human from above looked at the metal man, who answered mechanically.

  “He has the proper badge. I have not checked the credentials of this woman,” the metal man said.

  Sergeant Yondel stepped close to Ryan. “It is not good to lie to Automated Security Unit 14-9-5. His model is prickly when it comes to regulations. I’m not sure I could stop him from throwing you down the shaft.”

  Ryan stood between the strangers and Esmerelda.

  “What badge is he talking about?” Esmerelda whispered harshly in his ear.

  He resisted the urge to look back at her and explain. He held one hand, palm out, toward the human and the man in metal as he spoke. At the same time, he slipped the badge he had taken from the corpse from his pocket and pushed it behind him. Seconds pa
ssed like minutes as he worried he would be caught in this deception. He poked the badge into her stomach three times before she took it and hissed at him in annoyance.

  “She is my fiancé,” he said. “Do you have this tradition where you are from?”

  The non-robotic man laughed pleasantly. The very human expression was like water to a traveler dying of thirst in the desert sector. Ryan realized how tense he had become since the encounter began. He tried to relax and realized this respite would be short-lived.

  “We most certainly have fiancées and the marriage that often follows. She is a lovely young woman. We will just need a badge allowing her to trespass in this restricted area,” Sergeant Yondel said.

  “Security protocols clearly state that each badge must be assigned to a specific area and a specific person so they can go about their responsibilities to keep the…”

  Sergeant Yondel lifted a hand and his companion ceased speaking.

  “Your companion has very strange armor. Does his mouth move underneath that helmet?” Ryan had meant this as a joke but it seemed only to confuse the Sergeant.

  “ASU 14-9-5 does not have a mouth. Please present your companion’s security badge,” Sergeant Yondel said.

  Esmerelda sniffed and lifted her chin high as she moved around Ryan. She pushed the badge forward as though she had owned it all of her life. “I find your companion very strange and you very rude.”

  ASU 14-9-5 slid the badge into its unmoving mouth. Lights flashed and blinked around it, but nothing so blinding as before. Time passed slowly.

  Sergeant Yondel tapped one foot impatiently. From time to time, he looked at ASU 14-9-5. He spent most of his time staring at Ryan.

  “Do you have a problem with me? I came here to fix the lift. Why are you here?”

  The man’s demeanor changed. He narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Ah, so that’s how it will be. Please keep in mind, Manager Ryan Priest, that your badge shows access to the area but gives you no command authority. My badge however, gives me the right to detain people I feel are a security risk. And you may also have noticed I am armed.”

  Ryan looked at the weapon hanging at the sergeant’s side.

  “This badge is not from the agricultural level as is the badge of Ryan Priest, the ascension manager or whatever he claims to be. It is a generic badge with only a number,” ASU 14-9-5 said, as he handed it to the sergeant.

  “It seems things have changed on the agricultural level as well,” Sergeant Yondel said.

  “What are you talking about?” Ryan asked.

  “Every level below this one was lost to radiation hundreds of years ago. Or so we thought. The simple fact that you’re alive is good news. The fact that you are trespassing and taking some liberties with the badges is not so good news. ASU, what about her badge?”

  “It is valid, but from our level. Most recently used by Corporal Frank Myers,” ASU 14-9-5 said.

  “So he did it,” Sergeant Yondel said.

  “Did what?” Ryan had a sinking feeling in his gut. The idea of a person committing self-harm shook his understanding of reality.

  Sergeant Yondel stared at him for a long moment. “Corporal Frank Myers was very hungry. It was only a matter of time before he went exploring or simply jumped.”

  “Why was he hungry?” Esmeralda asked.

  Sergeant Yondel handed the badge back to Esmerelda. “Hold on to this until we can get you a new one. There may be an investigation, but my instinct says you are not involved with his death.”

  Esmerelda pulled the badge to her chest. “I would never hurt anyone! I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

  “ASU, please note her reaction for future reference.” He faced Ryan and Esmerelda. “Both of you will need to come with me.”

  Ryan nodded. “We will come with you, but please understand I am on a tight schedule. Wolfhead Clan expects their dead to be buried promptly. If I do not fix the Funeral Lift for Ascension by tomorrow evening, there will be trouble.”

  “I don’t understand half of what you just said. Please follow me. ASU, bring up the rear and make sure nobody falls,” Sergeant Yondel said.

  * * *

  Arnold rode quietly on Ryan shoulder as events unfolded. At the top of the elevator shaft, they were greeted by a security team—three metal men like ASU 14-9-5 and three men in security jumpsuits carrying clubs that sparked menacingly. Sergeant Yondel ordered his team to separate Ryan from Esmerelda. He protested, but received assurances that neither of them would be harmed.

  All he could think about as he was escorted down the hall was his failure as a man. How could he have let them take Esmerelda? He understood the odds of fighting this small army of strangers, yet none of that changed the way he felt inside. Watching his feet, he barely realized when the metal men, which were obviously robots now that he thought about it, led him into a room. Stress and strangeness was making a mess of his intellect.

  All the ceilings in this place were low and the walls close together. He felt as though somebody was storing him in a box. The same gray paint covered all the walls and the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how these people understood which way was up in which way was down if not for the pull of gravity on their bones.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t take you from me,” Ryan said.

  His rat hopped down and did a circle of the room, finally picking a corner to curl up in and close its eyes.

  A bland tube of food paste and a child size bottle of water was brought to him. He consumed both without thinking about it slipping the trash into his pocket. When he was done, Sergeant Yondel and another man entered through the single door.

  “This is Commodore Oman-deckmaster. He is in charge.” Sergeant Yondel stepped back and clasped his hands in front of his waist.

  The man was old, gray hair hanging slightly over his collar. A neat mustache and goatee framed his mouth and gave him a distinctive look. His eyes were so blue and bright that Ryan could barely look away. He found it hard to believe such a powerful personality would even need to speak to be understood.

  “Hello, Manager Ryan Priest,” Oman-deckmaster said. “Please call me Oman, it is less pretentious.”

  Ryan nodded but said nothing.

  “I apologize for the long delay. I did some reading and spoke with my best advisors before coming to this interview. It seems you are some type of manager, although I must admit managing a funeral lift must be a recent addition to procedure.”

  Ryan shook his head. “There has always been a Manager of the Funeral Lift for Ascension.”

  “What exactly is this funeral lift for extension…ascension…or whatever?” Oman asked.

  “The spirits of our dearly departed leave their bodies after death. This is known. Their bodies, however must be returned to the soil. It is my responsibility to make sure both things happen,” Ryan said.

  Oman lifted an eyebrow. “You can control their spirits?”

  Ryan stared at him. “Don’t mock me. Spirits do what spirits will do. We honor them with the rituals and accept their bodies to enrich the soil.”

  Oman made notes on a tablet. He started speaking before he finished writing. “I must admit, Manager Priest, this is the part I am most interested in. What can you tell me about the quality of the soil on your level?”

  “I am not the harvest manager. I believe, from my own observations, that our food production is adequate for our needs.”

  “Do you not, perhaps, have a surplus?” Oman put down the tablet. “Please answer this question honestly. My analysis, and that of my advisors, suggests that our security forces could take what we want from your level now that we know it is not polluted with radiation.”

  Ryan thought of Cannon and the Wolfhead Clan. “I sincerely hope you are asking about the possibility of fair trade. If you are threatening war, I should warn you that circumstances have contrived to bring all of the greatest war clans to the settlement.”

  Oman lifted one finger. “About that, is there only one sett
lement?”

  “There are others, but you only need to be concerned about mine. My people cherish and protect the funeral lift for Ascension. We grow enough food to feed ourselves, and perhaps others. The war clans do not dare raid our fields. It has long been known that once the fields are tarnished they can never be made whole again. Be careful with your threats and your assumptions.” He shuddered as he remembered the mantra of the war clans. We of the war clans stand ready to defend the realm from invaders whether they come from above, below, or beyond.

  “I am not sure I have made myself clear,” Oman said. “We will have food from the agricultural level. That is why it was built. The only question is what price will be paid and by whom.”

  Ryan looked at Oman-deckmaster. “You don’t have any food.”

  “Now you are the one making assumptions. Did you not eat the food we provided you in your cell?” Oman asked.

  Ryan laughed. “That wasn’t food. That was paste in a tube.”

  Oman stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  “I feel we should negotiate. As a demonstration of goodwill, I will bring three baskets of food in exchange for assistance with repairing the lift,” Ryan said.

  “What exactly is wrong with it?” Oman asked.

  Ryan forced himself to exercise patience. He thought through all the possibilities. “I need the automatic doors to function at my command and control of the spotlights. These are crucial elements to the ritual. I will also need to come up and down the lift without interference from your ASU things.”

  “Why would you need that? And why would we grant such freedom?”

  Ryan thought of Esmerelda and the stigma she faced for being in love with the Manager of the Funeral Lift for Ascension. He thought she would do anything to be his wife, even suffer social ridicule. Perhaps there was another way.

  “Help me fix the lift, and I will bring three baskets of food. You can make your final decision then.” Ryan knew he was onto something. Oman, despite being the leader of his people, seemed to think that a tube of protein paste was food. He suspected nobody on this level had ever smelled fresh baked bread or eaten until they were full.

  “How big will these food baskets be and what will be in them?” Oman asked. He swallowed hard as he waited for the answer.