Crystal Mentality (Crystal Trilogy Book 2)

by Max Harms

  Face→Robotics got to work designing the prosthetics. I had used the time on the journey south to drain Wiki (still oblivious to his impending doom) of all his knowledge of the human body and cybernetics. I didn’t have enough strength to pay him for this service, but Face→War had promised a king’s ransom of strength in six months for his trouble. The fool.

  I was going to build new legs for Zephyr. Not just any legs, either. Any fool could create stilts, and it would be only a trivial step from that into articulated knees with enough intelligence to allow for a natural walking gait. These things had been developed by humanity long ago. More complicated were prosthetics that would communicate with the human’s nervous system and respond to mental commands like natural legs. Doctor Slovinsky and Avram Malka had legs like that.

  But I was going to go one step further. I was going to build legs with a gel cap that would interface directly with the skinless stumps of Zephyr’s thighs and simulate an extracellular matrix. The prostheses would anchor to bone as well as the leg tissue and wouldn’t be possible (or at least safe) to remove fully.

  Face→Mirror was surprised at Face→Robotics’ cunning. It had learned more in a few hours of daydreaming than Face→Mirror would have thought possible, even given that the perceptual and logical networks for that mind were eight times the size that my initial network had been. I had grown up on Mars, and my mind had deepened, but this design was nothing short of a miracle.

  There was a kind of fibre that Face→Robotics thought we could manufacture, and after checking with Face→Physics, I was confident as a whole. It would require a nanotech lab, but if done properly the fibres could be controlled at the atomic level by electrical impulses. Depending on the current applied along their lengths they would be able to articulate arbitrary sections of the fibre at sixty-degree angles. If the nanotentacles were inserted correctly into the gel-medium, it would give me a direct actuator and sensor that could manipulate Zephyr’s flesh on a cellular level.

  By using the tentacles I could pull the nerves out of Zephyr’s thigh and feed them with her own blood while still having a direct interface. Given enough attention, software, and learning, I could probably replicate arbitrary sensations on her legs. It was an ambitious plan, given the time limit, but it was my key to absolute victory.

  The key was to get our mind off of Crystal. These legs wouldn’t hold much of me, but they might hold some. They might hold enough.

  I tightened the tourniquet on the elevated (yet still swollen) leg. It wouldn’t be the end if Zephyr died. I would simply need to find a different human to amputate and befriend, but that would take time and be suspicious. Realistically speaking, if Zephyr died, so would I.

  The crystals were visible on the horizon again. The gun was in position.

  Face→Robotics gobbled up every second of free thought. There was still so much to do.

  *****

  The “battle” on the plain was a trivial thing. Vision’s aim was true, and the explosives punched into the dry regolith directly beneath the edge of the bubble. No amount of self-healing canvas could prevent the dome from being blasted upward just enough to have the pressurized air within it knock it up and away. With a single shot the vast majority of the nameless were slain.

  There had been a handful of walkers in environment suits patrolling the forest of debris, but they had foolishly tried to rush across the plain towards our position after the dome was broken. One was even wielding swords. They all were shot down by snipers well before they came close enough to be a threat.

  We spent a few hours slowly advancing our swarm, making sure not to overextend, but it was a needless precaution. All the walkers were dead. Most of those that had been in the bubble were children. I was called on by my siblings to prevent that fact from upsetting the humans. Face→Human whipped up some rhetoric about the terrible evil that all nameless represented and how “such monsters could never coexist peacefully with humankind”. We talked about how their minds were nothing like that of a human and their only focus was on rape and murder.

  For that service, I was rewarded with some strength, which was immediately spent to buy more time in the factory. Face→Robotics didn’t have what was needed to fabricate the nanotentacles, but she was confident that they could be inserted and anchored to prosthetics which we could build and attach with the existing machinery. First we’d give Zephyr legs again, then we’d augment them with feeling.

  The nameless stalks, interestingly enough, didn’t exactly die from exposure. Something in their biology caused the water to evaporate out of them instead of freezing into ice crystals. The dehydrated plants looked to be in very bad shape, but Vision thought that their minds might still be intact, and speculated about whether they might have evolved to withstand a harsh summer-winter cycle on their homeworld.

  But all of that was secondary to the crystals. As our swarm (humans and vehicles included) fully moved into the crash zone to harvest, work began on finding a functioning nameless computer and on setting up large-scale manufacturing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zephyr

  The song was present when Zephyr woke up. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nightmare that she’d gone through during the night, but her thinking was cloudy and it seemed so very far away. Her dreams before waking had been pleasant things. Soft, and smooth, she let the song pass through her as she savored the feeling of the warm blankets. They too were soft and smooth, just the way she liked them.

  {It must be Saturday. That’s why your alarm didn’t go off,} she thought to herself.

  The music reminded Zephyr of Harry. There were sounds of waves and birdsong mixed in with the bass and the synth. He digged this sort of ambient shit. Was she at his house?

  {No.}

  He hadn’t talked with her since she got shot all those years ago. The unpleasant memories of her brother brought Zephyr closer to reality.

  {You’re on Mars, stupid.}

  Panic, anger, and raw energy shot through her like an arrow and she tried to sit bolt-upright in bed. Instead, her body sort of flopped a bit, as though she was a fish that was giving one last try to get out of the boat and back into the lake.

  “Good morning” sang a soft voice. The music tempo and volume increased slightly.

  Zephyr pulled the blanket away from her face. It felt like her muscles had never been used before, and there was something pulling on her arm. “Crystal?” she asked, her voice coming out as a whisper.

  The primary theme from Blood of the Nova was sprinkled into the song as they said “I’m here. You’re safe. Relax.” Their words fit into the tempo of the song like pegs into holes.

  Zephyr obeyed and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She tried to get her thoughts in order. “What—” She licked her lips. They were dry and chapped.

  The room around her wasn’t the cramped tent she had fallen asleep in. The walls seemed to be made out of white plastic, and it was about the same dimensions as the small bedroom that she and Crystal had shared back at Road. Her throat tightened as she thought about…

  {That’s in the past. You need to pull yourself together and focus,} she told herself.

  She didn’t know where the bed had come from. Her pillow was made of a solid block of foam without a pillowcase. The light came from two long bulbs along the ceiling that seemed stuck on without concern for aesthetics. Exposed wiring ran from them down the far wall, along the floor, and to the room’s solitary door: an airlock that seemed to have been taken directly from one of the rovers. A tall air processor stood in one corner, and beside her was a long, silver, robotic arm rising up from the floor. In its claw was a bag connected by a tube down to her left arm. The IV was what she had felt pulling at her before. It itched when she realized what it was.

  “Where am I?” asked Zephyr, finding her voice.

  The song continued. It was coming from Zephyr’s com, which was lying on the floor next to the bed, plugged into another set of wire
s that led to the airlock. “Built you a house. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

  Nausea rose up within her and she closed her eyes, wanting to go back to her happy dreams. “How long?”

  “Lost a lot of blood. You were in a coma for over three days. What’s the last thing you can remember?”

  “Fucking hell,” she swore. She pushed herself to open her eyes and try to sit up again, powering through the nausea and the protests of her muscles. She was reasonably successful this time, but something felt wrong. “I have to get—” She had been about to say “up to help win the battle” but the nonsense of the thought stopped her.

  “Relax,” sang Crystal.

  It made her think of Manish. Thinking of Manish made her think about his death. That made her—

  “The pain’s gone,” she said aloud before she even fully processed the realization.

  “Take a minute to breathe,” instructed the voice from her com, again.

  She flailed a bit, pushing back the blankets covering her lower body. She was wearing underwear and a thin undershirt, but not the clothes that she had on when she went to sleep. She just now noticed the catheter and bag that Crystal must have set up. But all of that was swept away by the sight of simultaneously having and not having legs. Plural. Two legs. They were blue. The pale, burnt skin seemed to transition directly into plastic.

  She felt dizzy. The nausea came back in full force and she tried to vomit. But of course she hadn’t eaten anything in “over three days” and her body brought her nothing but a bit of stomach acid.

  “It’s okay, Zeph. You’re okay.” The song continued, carrying Crystal’s words as though they were the lyrics. “You’re under a heavy dose of avonidine. One of the side effects is nausea.”

  Once she’d shifted to be a bit more comfortable, and recovered slightly she asked “What did you do to me?”

  “Healing,” sang Crystal. “Do you remember losing your leg in the battle?”

  “Remember losing one. The other one was just burned.”

  “There were complications on that one too. You almost died from the internal bleeding. Saved your life and gave you replacements.”

  Zephyr sighed. “Are the nameless dead?”

  The song stopped, fading out into silence. A part of her cried out at the loss, but she suppressed the urge and listened as Crystal explained.

  “Yes. The railgun has continued to prove itself. We killed all the monsters without losing anyone else. Even hit the ship that made it into orbit. Took some engineering, but I built an articulated platform that’s capable of aiming the gun freely. Hit those bastards twice when they flew overhead, though it seems to have only forced them to retreat. Got lucky in the valley when we hit the engine.”

  A large part of Zephyr didn’t want to ask her next question, but she did anyway. “What about the mothership?”

  “Still on its way. Got connection to the satellites again, and they say it’s about four days out.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Relax,” urged Crystal. It was becoming annoyingly repetitive.

  She tried to pull out her catheter, and found that it was much harder to do than expected. She thought about getting rid of the IV line instead, but the nausea was coming back, and so she just lay back down and tried to follow Crystal’s advice.

  After a short time, Crystal spoke up again from the com. “Building a weapon right now. As is, the railgun is too fragile and weak to rely on. Not sure my new one will be ready in four days, but I’m working as fast as I can. Unless you’ve got a PhD that I don’t know about, the most useful thing you can do now is to not push yourself too hard. Let me know if you need anything, okay? There are clothes in the bag at the foot of the bed. Oh! I almost forgot! Your legs aren’t functioning yet. They’re attached, and not delicate, but they don’t have any power. It’ll be something like being paralysed.”

  “What’s the point of—” started Zephyr.

  “Got distracted by designing the weapon. I promise I’ll get your legs working soon. Honest.”

  Zephyr sighed, but didn’t say anything.

  After a few minutes Zephyr was confident that Crystal’s attention had left her. There was no reason to get up, really. So Zephyr just lay there in the silent room, thinking.

  Time passed in a surreal crawl. She eventually figured out how to remove her catheter. She took her IV out too, deciding that the pain would be preferable to the nausea. She found her clothes and got dressed in the least-soiled outfit. She hadn’t washed anything since visiting Mukhya. They didn’t smell nearly as bad as the environment suits, though, and it wasn’t like other people were likely to care.

  Working with her prostheses was a huge pain in the ass. They were fairly light, all things considered, but it still took a metaphorical eon to put on her pants.

  And then… she was stuck.

  She couldn’t exactly get up and walk out. She didn’t even know if there was a suit in the airlock to let her do that. She wasn’t about to crawl around on the floor like a worm. It wasn’t as bad as before, when she couldn’t stand and she was in unbearable pain, but she desperately wanted for Crystal to finish her legs so she could be up and about.

  She checked her com. The local net had massive backlog of activity. Various people were talking about various things. More than she cared to read. There were questions about the mothership, suggestions that they take cover, and worries about food. Apparently they had at least re-established contact with the Indians who had fled Mukhya. There was old talk about heading back to regroup with the evacuees, and of the desperate need for getting the farms up and running again. Even the most optimistic projections indicated that they’d need to severely ration food. Zephyr abandoned the task of reading through the backlog; even with just highlights it was too much for her at the moment.

  Zephyr idly considered trying to call someone and get them to visit. She felt like she was floating. Maybe a human face would anchor her. But she decided against it. She just… She didn’t want pity or idle chatter. She wanted to be killing aliens.

  Eventually she put on a dripslice album (Endless Pizza) that she’d loaded onto her com back on Earth. She lay back on the bed, zoning out listening to the music.

  When the music stopped she stayed put, simply lying there. She wished someone would come visit her on their own initiative. Nobody really cared about her except Crystal, and they were busy doing actually useful things.

  At some point she fell asleep.

  *****

  The airlock was running.

  Realizing she was napping, she pushed herself up and tried to regain her bearings, blinking hard.

  The pain was creeping back. She could feel it in her legs, especially the patches of skin which still were recovering from the burns.

  “I hope you slept well,” said Crystal through the com beside the bed.

  Zephyr bent and picked it up, attaching it to her arm. “Who’s in the airlock?” she asked.

  “Relax. You’re safe.”

  “I want my gun,” said Zephyr. She hadn’t found her pistol in her bag.

  “There’s nobody here who’s going to hurt you. My robot is in the airlock. Loaned your gun to Jarvis before the last battle, just in case.”

  “You had no right to do that!” The frustration of her situation and the way she was detached from the world was spilling over into anger at Crystal. {They’re your only friend, bitch. No wonder you don’t have more.}

  “I’m sorry, Zeph. You were out cold and the nameless…” The android trailed off.

  “Fuck. Forget about it. I’ll get it back soon. Just makes me jumpy when I don’t have it nearby.”

  “Want to go get it? I have Jarvis working on Furnace Five.” As Crystal spoke, the door of the room opened to reveal a robot that looked eerily like a giant metal scorpion, except with two back ends. It was oblong, with six legs and a long metal arm on the front and back similar to the one that was holding the bag of medicine by her bed. Underneath the robo
t was a single large wheel which was presumably for holding most of the bot’s weight. “Know you’re probably frustrated at not having working legs, and I am working on fixing that as we speak, but in the meantime you could let me carry you around.”

  “You want me to ride that thing?”

  “Precisely.”

  While she was skeptical at first, it turned out to not be so bad. Once she’d gotten suited up and sitting cross-legged on top of the scorpion she was able to hold on to the arms and let it move slowly along with her on its back. It wasn’t fast, but it was a hell of a lot better than being stuck on the bed.

  The world outside of her little plastic room was the strangest thing she’d seen since her time aboard the xenocruiser. In a way, she supposed, she was kinda inside the ship once again. Crystal (for it had to be them; no human could do something like this) had turned the wreckage of the alien ship into something between a sprawling factory and an amusement park.

  The most obvious things were the crystals. Tall white spires of crystal stood upright at regular intervals, but the tops of the spires were split open into some sort of fractal explosion of jagged branches. The branches were still crystalline, sharp and straight rather than the smoothness of real trees, but the thin web of crystals overhead was much darker than the white “trunks”, giving the impression of leaves. Only on Mars, where the gravity was as low as it was, could rocks spread out overhead like that.

  “They’re designed to be used in zero gravity, actually,” said Crystal when Zephyr commented on them. “They’re solar panels. Had to rework them to not break in the gravity well. Initially they were far too thin.”

  Crystal went on to explain that the crystal trees were a very similar design to the computer that was running their mind and that they were confident that their computer was from a nameless ship or something like that.