The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  They fired simultaneously.

  The passageway exploded as missiles detonated at close range and heavy plasma beams sliced through the air, crisscrossing the corridor in an overwhelming grid of annihilation that nothing could hope to escape. Secondary explosions caused the entire ship to wobble as powerful conduits hidden behind the bulkheads were struck and damaged by the savagely traded offensive strikes, releasing their stored energy in concussive fireballs that only added to the already impressive level of destruction.

  Miso and Tien were both knocked to the floor in the initial onslaught, suffering considerable damage from the weapons fire and proximate energy explosions caused by the ruptured conduits. As they continued to unload their weapons at each other part of the ceiling collapsed down on top of them, joining the broken wall panels, smashed and burning electronic debris—loosely held together by crudely torn cables and frayed wiring—and several fractured structural supports to bury the two combatants completely. The explosions also triggered the ship’s fire suppression system, filling the corridor with a heavy chemical mist that clouded away the last traces of visibility. Only an eerie silence remained when the chemical jets finally shut off.

  Tien found himself lost in total darkness—even his HUD was blank. Then everything rebooted, and the few systems still functioning came back online. Tien pushed himself up through the rubble, throwing a few large pieces of metal aside as he struggled to free himself and gain his feet. His body was covered in a wet slurry of chemicals and pulverized dust, and there were so many alarms going off in Tien’s HUD that it was a virtual sea of red, speckled with an occasional green or amber dot.

  He glanced down and found his left arm gone entirely.

  Tien stumbled across the mountain of ruin and located Miso. He had partially crawled out of the wreckage, and was lying up against one of the broken walls, motionless. As Tien staggered closer, Miso began to stir. He turned and raised one of his arms to fire, but nothing happened. Tien pounced on him, snatching one of the missiles from the twisted cradle and driving it straight into the side of Miso’s neck. The detonation knocked Tien back into the opposite wall—breaking one of the non-functional plasma guns off the side of his head, and snapping Tien’s remaining arm off at the elbow. The lower portion was left dangling by a few colored wires.

  The explosion decapitated Miso, and what remained of him was now charred and inert. Tien’s HUD revealed no power readings from inside Miso’s body except for the soul chamber’s independent source, and he knew the android was dead. He was able to enjoy that nominal victory for almost three full seconds before the others came running into the ship, slamming the hatch closed behind them and locking it.

  “We’re screwed,” Maxal said, nearly out of breath. “Special Corp found us. And they brought an army with them.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “They’ve sounded a general alert,” Eraz said, stepping back from the ship’s communication console to address the others. The worried look on her face conveyed as much meaning as her words, maybe more. “The entire fucking planet knows we’re here now, and the Corp is broadcasting a demand for our immediate surrender.”

  Eraz shook her head dejectedly, and then placed her hands on her hips as Brother Ryll joined them in the cockpit. The monk was holding a pair of similar objects—one in each hand. “I found Brother Dyson’s soul chamber buried in the rubble,” he said. “The power supply has been damaged, but it’s still functional. I was also able to retrieve Miso’s chamber from what was left of his android body.”

  “That’s what you’re worried about?” Maxal scoffed. “Have you forgotten about the commandos taking up positions outside?”

  Ryll held the cylinder containing Dyson’s consciousness out in front of him. “This is the only thing that concerns me,” he replied stiffly. The soul chamber was badly scorched, and it had deep pits and abrasions across its entire surface. But for all it had been through—the centuries frozen in ice, and the recent battle between Tien and Miso—the device looked surprisingly intact. “I’m going to attach it to the diagnostic equipment we have in the back of the ship,” Ryll said. “To see if there’s any way I can repair and stabilize it.”

  “Can we fly?” Commander Eraz asked in exasperation, ignoring the monk as she tried to steer the conversation toward more pressing concerns.

  As Brother Ryll departed the cockpit, lost in his own priorities, Tien used the tattered remnants of his one arm to gesture toward the rear of the vessel. The motion caused thin strips of rent metal to wave back and forth through the air, like chrome streamers in a gentle breeze.

  “I saw the engines on the way in,” he said. “They’ve been partially disassembled, so this ship isn’t going anywhere. What about the weapons?”

  Maxal moved past Eraz and glanced down at the flight console, assessing the ship’s systems. “Ayel,” he said, “see if you can shunt power to the control interface for the weapons. It looks like the dedicated lines were damaged during Tien’s fight with Miso.”

  The Iriq glanced around for a moment before finding what she was looking for, and then Ayel pulled an access panel off the wall and set to work. A few seconds later, a darkened section of the console sprang to life.

  “Hmmm,” Maxal remarked. His tone wasn’t optimistic. “The weapons are operational, but there isn’t much here. Looks like a few mid-sized plasma cannons, probably to use against pirates. But that’s the extent of it. I mean, it’s something, to be sure, but don’t expect to fight our way out of here. The guns have a very limited field of fire sitting in place like this, so targeting will be restricted to areas at the front of the ship, and just a few oblique angles.” Maxal eyes shifted over to another part of the console. “The energy banks are fully charged, and the cannons are ready, but none of the powerplants are running. Once the batteries are depleted, we’re done. And without those engines, we’re dead anyway; we can’t escape. Is there any chance they can be reassembled?”

  “None,” Tien told him. “From what I saw, it would take hours to get them working again. And that’s with the soldiers outside sitting back and letting us work.”

  “That’s unlikely to happen.” Maxal smiled.

  “I agree. Maybe we can fight our way to your ship before more reinforcements arrive.”

  “That’s impossible,” Eraz snapped in frustration. “Just look outside. And what good would it do us, anyway? All planetary defenses have been placed on high alert by now. We wouldn’t get two meters off the ground before they shot us down. Besides, how do we know they didn’t disable Maxal’s ship like they did this one?”

  Tien knew Eraz was right, but he also believed there was always a way out. Always…despite the odds stacked against them. Tien just had to find it. But then, reluctantly, he admitted to himself that always might be too strong a qualifier. Tien had failed once before, when he tried to rescue Dasi from the notorious Udek prison on Nilot. He lost his life that time, and ended up losing his home as well. The aftermath of that disastrous effort had left Tien and his family exiled on an alien world, and doomed to live out the rest of their lives surrounded by strangers. Now, it appeared he was going to lose even that.

  The thought of death brought clarity. Knowing your end was near helped clear away all of the useless minutia constantly bombarding one’s mind, allowing the more important, repressed truths to rise up to the surface—the mistakes we hide from ourselves to avoid confronting them. In that moment, one lapse in judgment stood above all the others. Tien realized that he should have never brought Brother Ryll with him on this mission.

  It was the correct tactical decision, of course, the monk’s help repairing and maintaining the android body had been invaluable—and critical to getting them this far. But it was a poor personal decision. If Brother Ryll died, who would restore Tien’s consciousness to his body? He would remain an empty shell, floating blissfully unaware in the healing tank back on Obas. Dasi and Speaker Lews would no doubt intercede on his behalf, and they would ask t
he Bodhi to send someone else to perform the transfer. But without Dyson or Brother Ryll, there was no guarantee the monks would even care. And given the circumstances, the Bodhi might even believe Tien was responsible for what happened to their missing brethren.

  He went to slam his hand against the wall in anger, only to recall that both of his arms were gone—which in turn reminded Tien that he was trapped inside a broken android body, completely powerless to do anything. He wondered how the situation could possibly get any worse.

  Tien found out when the forward window shattered into thousands of pieces, spraying sharp fragments throughout the cockpit.

  And then powerful explosions began to rock the ship.

  Ryll carefully pressed Brother Dyson’s soul chamber down into the ill-fitting cradle, wedging the device in until he felt certain it couldn’t fall out. He then plugged an external power cable into the chamber to help secure its operational integrity. In addition to the standard electrical wiring, the cable also had several data transfer conduits laced through it, and readings from pre-programmed diagnostic routines began popping up on the wall display. The anxious monk scanned over the information quickly.

  What he saw wasn’t good.

  No, Brother Ryll thought to himself. This is not good at all. On a lark, Ryll attached an external speaker to the chamber’s audio test port. The desperate sounds that blared out from it sent him scrambling back away from the workbench.

  {Miso…please, no…}

  “Brother Dyson?” Ryll breathed.

  For an unsettling moment there was silence, and then the voice from the soul chamber returned. This time, however, it was more composed and familiar.

  {I’m fine, Brother Ryll. Just fine. But I’m amazed that you’re still alive. It’s a blessing from the Buddha, truly. Don’t be alarmed by my outburst. You caught me at the end of a cycle}

  “Cycle?” Ryll repeated, approaching the workbench again.

  {Yes, and a very unpleasant one, at that. After Miso killed me, he programmed this chamber to replay the memory of my death at random, over and over again. A method of torture meant to mimic his own demise on Ulor XI. Miso had been caught in a never-ending playback loop, and was reliving his death the entire time he was trapped in the ice. That horror was probably caused by a malfunction in the soul chamber, but Miso managed to replicate it with the device’s built-in Shepherd Personality. We only use the program to show our transference candidates selective memories, helping them revisit their sins during the cleansing ritual. But it seems the same coercive replay protocols that guide an atonement monk’s actions can also be retooled for more sinister purposes. Unfortunately, Miso was quite successful in his tinkering with the program. And the experience is upsetting, to say the least. Where is Miso now, Brother? I believe he means to raze the monastery. He wants us all dead, and we must stop him before it’s too late}

  Ryll looked over to where he’d tossed Miso’s chamber onto the workbench. “Tien destroyed his body, but Miso’s soul chamber is still intact. Don’t worry. He has been rendered harmless.”

  {Tien? Kiro Tien?}

  “Yes, Brother. I travelled to Obas to secure his help.”

  After learning about his master’s torture, Ryll was doubly glad that Miso was now captive and helpless. The feeling of satisfaction did come with a shred of guilt, however, a discomfort that stemmed from reveling in the misfortune of another soul. It was only a tiny hint of regret, though—one Ryll knew should have been much, much larger. But he didn’t care. Miso was pure evil, and his black soul had traveled so far beyond redemption that even the smallest embers of hope had all been extinguished. It was true that he was probably insane, but even madness didn’t excuse the fact Miso had murdered and tortured Brother Dyson. In Brother Ryll’s eyes, nothing could mitigate that barbarity.

  {You did well to recruit Kiro Tien, Brother. It was a bold move. During my imprisonment in this chamber, I’ve been able to gain intermittent access to its audio and security sensors. So I was somewhat aware during Tien’s fight with Miso. I thought I heard his name spoken, but was unsure. Then I became buri… buri… buri… buried—}

  Brother Ryll glanced up at the display, deeply troubled by what he found. Unpredictable power fluctuations were creating transient connection problems between the deep memory storage where Dyson’s consciousness was kept, and the Operational Matrix governing the soul chamber’s physical systems—like the audio port he was using to communicate. Unfortunately, the problems didn’t stop there. Upon closer examination, Ryll discovered that the sporadic power instabilities were also causing a cascade memory failure in the matrix controlling the chamber. The degradation was slow, but real, and its advance appeared inexorable. If not stopped, the progressive memory wipe would eventually spread to the soul chamber’s deep storage as well, permanently erasing Brother Dyson’s consciousness. But there was no way to stop it. The chamber had suffered too much damage over the years, and it was unsound in every way imaginable. No matter what, Brother Ryll knew that he had to get his mentor’s mind out of there. If not, Dyson would surely die—and sooner rather than later.

  {What’s happening?} Brother Dyson asked him.

  “The chamber is failing, master. I can shift some of its functions to the diagnostic equipment to help shore it up, but the device is no longer safe for your mind.” Ryll accessed the ship’s memory core to see if he could store Brother Dyson’s consciousness there, but he found it hopelessly corrupted by the intrusive viral programs the Udek had used to siphon out all of its information. Brother Ryll couldn’t possibly trust the core with Dyson’s mind now. “I need to transfer you into another soul chamber, Brother. It’s the only way.”

  {But we don’t have another chamber. Not unless you’ve brought one from Bodhi Prime}

  Brother Ryll glanced down at the bench in front of him, staring at Miso’s soul chamber for only a fraction of a second before making up his mind. “Yes, Brother. We do.”

  Although Dyson was caged inside a hopelessly compromised relic, and saddled with severely limited faculties, the old monk understood Ryll’s meaning.

  {I’ll not ask you to take a life on my behalf, Brother. Even Miso’s. Your karma may be irreparably damaged by such an act, and I cannot live with that. I will not live with that}

  “You won’t have to, Brother,” Ryll replied. “The decision is mine. Mine alone, and willingly made.”

  Ryll opened a panel on Miso’s soul chamber and accessed the tiny set of controls hidden behind it. He input his personal credentials first, followed by the code to purge the memory. Ryll confirmed it when prompted. The young monk briefly hesitated, considering the ramifications of what he was about to do. The heady import of the moment gave Ryll pause, as did the consequences of his next action—for both Miso and himself. But Brother Ryll refused to be deterred and executed the command. A few seconds later, he received confirmation that the purge was complete. And two hundred years after his death, Akira Miso finally, truly, died.

  {I…}

  “This was about more than just our current predicament,” Brother Ryll explained to his mentor. “So please, clear your conscience.”

  Dyson was amazed at his acolyte’s calm and steady bearing. He was a bit alarmed by it as well. Something had changed in Brother Ryll, and he seemed a wholly different man now. Harsh circumstances had transformed him into a more resilient person, one capable of making tough and terrible choices. Dyson sadly realized that the monk he’d once known was gone, and that Brother Ryll would never be the same again. What he didn’t know, was whether this development was a good thing, or a bad thing. But only time would reveal the answer.

  Dyson lamented the loss of Brother Ryll’s simple and innocent nature. But it was only natural, and he well understood the cause. The uncaring universe was steadily grinding away Ryll’s naiveté, revealing a harder surface beneath—one molded by adversity. But would a brilliant diamond emerge from this painful process, adding meaningful substance to humanity? Or some soulless rock
, disillusioned and devoid of purpose, aimlessly trundling toward an eventual death?

  “That wasn’t your friend, Brother,” Ryll continued, oblivious to his master’s deep ruminations and growing concern. “Surely you know that. Whatever came out of the ice on Ulor XI was no longer Brother Miso. This would have been done regardless—here, or back on Bodhi Prime. By you, me, or another one of our brethren. So it makes no difference in the end how it was accomplished, or by whom. This was necessary, and inevitable.”

  As Brother Dyson pondered his response, the sound of a loud explosion came from the front of the ship.

  The vessel shuddered, and Ryll heard what he assumed were the ship’s plasma cannons firing—a slight vibration resonating through the hull each time one of the weapons discharged. More explosions followed, and then more cannon fire. The Udek had begun their attack, and Brother Ryll knew that he was fast running out of time.

  He reached for a data cable so he could connect the two soul chambers and transfer Dyson’s consciousness, but Ryll didn’t make it. He was thrown to the floor when the fuselage suddenly dropped two meters, striking the ground beneath the ship hard. Ryll heard explosions coming from every direction now—rocking the leaning vessel side to side, and causing it to heave and lurch across the tarmac in tiny increments. The ship shook violently—like it might actually come apart—scattering loose objects everywhere.

  A hissing sound accompanied the smell of burning plastic as Dyson’s soul chamber triggered the memory of his murder again, and then his tortured cries joined Brother Ryll’s own screams as fire broke out in the room.

  Tien watched the starboard plasma cannon take out two more armored carriers before an Udek salvo drove him back behind the burning flight console. He knew they couldn’t remain in what was left of the cockpit any longer.

  “Just set the fucking thing to auto-fire and let’s get the hell out of here!” he shouted.