The Owners

by Tara Basi

  Truculent could see that Eva was deeply confusing for Harder and his Defenders. The Commander’s eyes had moved everywhere – from floor to the ceiling to Truculent - and always, irresistibly, back to Eva. And each time they settled on her, they quickly jerked away as if he had momentarily stared into the sun.

  Truculent found it difficult to accept that the Tuned’s soul, or the possessing-ghoul had taken over one of his most precious clones. He prayed there would be no damage. His unique copies were authentically aged to a particularly significant point in the history of the individual. The ageing process accurately recreated the body’s memories and its scars but left the mind blank, a strictly enforced ethical requirement. That didn’t stop the more unscrupulous individuals loading the blank minds with totally inappropriate desires and personalities. It was a degenerate practice that forced Truculent to be extremely discrete about his innocent hobby.

  The Inquisitors were clearly fascinated by the new Eva, obviously recognising a kindred spirit. The body was from a very early period in the Vigilance Empire. She had been a warrior princess from the royal line that ruled during the first epoch before the monarchy and its secular civil service were rightly overthrown by the sacred mission of the Priesthood. Whatever Truculent’s theological views, he admired the princess as a fierce warrior in battle and a hugely successful warlord who had beaten back, then annihilated, invading alien armies from the dark regions. She had then led the all-conquering expansion of the Empire into countless new systems.

  Admittedly, she was not his favourite clone, nor one he found particularly beautiful, but she was a fascinating specimen nonetheless. She towered over most males, with muscles bulging everywhere muscles could, which were further defined by a narrow waist and finely chiselled features. She had, Truculent thought, wonderfully taut skin, almost translucent, particularly across her bold cheekbones. Though, in his opinion, her facial features were let down by rather anaemic lips and an overly sharp, fleshless nose. He was not a great admirer of bald women but in this case it suited her threatening presence; hair would have looked faintly ridiculous on such a woman, like a party hat on a Defender. She did not so much possess curves as hard rounded edges over an underlying steely structure. Without doubt her eyes were her most feminine feature, big, round and, incongruously, bright blue.

  For whatever reason Eva had chosen this particular body, she had at least taken his advice and continued to dress it in an appropriate style. That style was combat ready. She was clothed in replicated early Empire armour made from tiny super-hard lightweight scales scraped from the bodies of long dead alien enemies. The alien trophies were artfully arranged over a skin-tight covering of liquid metal armour that almost covered her form completely, ending just under her chin. The overall colour constantly changed as Eva moved. The underlying metal sheath was a dark matt red and the highly polished scales were a glistening black. In the traditional manner she was adorned with historically accurate but primitive throwing and cutting weapons strapped to her thighs, back and forearms.

  Truculent acknowledged the officer’s report with a curt nod and added, “Set up a base at the Crimson factory. I want to examine the production logs in detail.”

  “Is there product in the factory?” Eva asked, much to Truculent’s annoyance. He would have to remind Eva again that the less the Inquisitors knew about the Three the better. Her impatience, no doubt fuelled by the super-high testosterone levels in her body, was making her very twitchy. She really should be killing something fairly regularly to keep the body and her mind in balance. The body was probably rebelling at the lack of combat. Perhaps later some natives could be found for Eva to hack up, to calm her down. For now, Truculent restricted himself to a small cough and a sweet smile when she looked over. She would get the message: he never smiled at her in private.

  “There is ample product my lady, but it’s very ordinary stuff,” Harder replied, beaming at the opportunity to address Eva directly.

  Briefing concluded, Harder and the Defenders escorted Truculent and Eva back to the attack shuttle which undocked from Truculent’s barge and started the descent to the planet’s surface.

  It was a very pretty planet, Truculent thought. He contemplated the cloud formations as the shuttle flew through the atmosphere, heading for the factory, and he allowed himself to dream of owning the only supply of Three in the Empire.

  Before he knew it, the Inquisitor vessel was slowly descending towards the factory’s roof, which dilated to reveal a docking shaft. A few hundred metres down the shuttle slipped sideways out of the shaft and docked silently at the Heaven House. Harder led the way into the great windowed space that circled the Block. He didn’t pause to admire the view, he marched on across the polished floor which was awash with the colours of an early evening spring sun.

  Ahead stood the welcoming party.

  Truculent was completely invisible inside a defensive ring of Defenders, except for his comically bobbing hat. Eva soared above her guards.

  Two long lines of black janitor machines stood to attention, motionless and silent. The Commander marched down the metal corridor towards the final machine which was standing apart from its brethren and holding up a wriggling native by the ankle. The Defenders spread out, encircling their charges, the lone machine and its catch.

  Truculent stared at the sobbing creature for a few seconds then turned his attention to the summary production logs.

  Harder signalled for the rest of the honour guard to stand down. The metal janitors sank serenely into the floor and vanished, leaving behind the single machine holding the gibbering wreck.

  “Interesting,” said Truculent, scrolling through the logs. For a long time, the factory had operated perfectly normally. Then quite suddenly, strange things had started to happen. Without warning, mysterious invaders from outside the factory had materialised in different parts of the complex. They’d been supported by largely ineffectual attacks by an external system, all of which had caused the local factory manager to unaccountably commit suicide. Somehow, and he still couldn’t fathom how, all this had led to the creation of the Three and the attacks which had ultimately destroyed the old Travel-Way, completely isolating the planet. One nondescript bedraggled native creature seemed to be the primary trigger for the production of the Three and the instigator of the rebellion. Frustratingly there was nothing about the formula or the fate of the female.

  “This woman is the key, we have to find her,” Truculent whispered to Eva, who was staring intently at the holographic images of the naked creature’s interrogation by the factory manager.

  “It’s so ordinary. Did it really create the Three? Incomprehensible. They’re so primitive,” Eva said. She looked at the creature being held upside-down by the janitor machine. “Is that bawling creature the manager? It looks different from the recording. Shall I torture it to find out where the other one is?” Eva growled then savagely punched her fist into her palm.

  Truculent signalled to the automaton which floated across the floor until the terrified native’s upside-down face was level with Truculent’s. He motioned for Eva to stay back and wait.

  “We’re the Owners,” he said. “We only want to find the female you’re interrogating in these images. Can you tell us where she is?”

  “The Owners? But you look like us. I can understand you.”

  “The humanoid form represents about sixty per cent of the known sentient life in our galaxy,” said Truculent. “We’re all descended from the same Prime species. However, while we may look similar, my own race is vastly more evolved, intelligent and powerful. This is apparent by the fact that I’ve already asked for the information I want and you, stupidly, have failed to understand, despite the Empire’s very best translation technology.”

  “Please don’t kill me! I’m Tippese, I’m the Blocks’ Boss. I’ll tell you anything, anything at all,” the native screamed.

  Truculent glanced over at Eva, frustration rippled across her face as she clenched her jaws.
Probably upset that any need for violence had evaporated.

  “The woman?” Truculent gently reminded the factory manager.

  “The woman, Tress, yes she worked for the previous Boss,” the native gabbled. “Nearly a year ago I put her in a holding cell and then everything went crazy. She escaped, somehow and ended up hiding out in New York. She’s still there, I think. Yes, New York, definitely, that’s where she is. In New York.”

  “Tell me about this New York,” Truculent said.

  “There’s a gang of them hiding out there, Tress and others. Reference wanted us to negotiate with them for the formula.”

  “The formula, you’ve got it?” Eva shouted, leaping forward in an instant and grabbing the wretch by the throat.

  “Good gods, if you break his neck that’s not going to help,” Truculent said, pulling at Eva’s arm which felt like a block of steel. His frantic pawing had no impact at all, but slowly Eva relaxed her grip and stepped back.

  “Have you got it?” Truculent asked Tippese.

  After a bout of coughing and strangled croaks the manager hoarsely whispered, “No, she wouldn’t tell us. We were going to send weapons, but Reference wanted us to wait. It didn’t want them damaged.”

  “You idiot,” Eva yelled and then let out a terrible battle-cry. Tippese jerked back setting his body wriggling with terror. Everyone else visibly started, even Harder.

  “Try to relax,” Truculent said quietly, attempting to soothe Eva’s increasing agitation.

  “How long do we have to wait around like this? It’s driving me crazy. We should just go and get them,” Eva hissed.

  “We know where they are. Now we have to be careful to avoid any damage before we get what we want.” Truculent turned around, “Harder, set up surveillance of this New York; see what we’re up against. It’s not likely to be much.”

  Harder looked glad to be doing something faintly martial, however trivial.

  “You need to calm down, a thorough search is underway,” Truculent said, trying to sooth Eva’s increasing agitation.

  “I know, but this body doesn’t like sitting around. It’s got a mind of its own and I’m finding it difficult to control my emotions. It seems to amplify any frustration and anger exponentially. I thought you were going to do something.”

  “I will. Try and be patient.”

  Eva brought her face close to Truculent’s and glared. “Do not make me wait too long.”

  The woman desperately needed a diversion. Truculent summoned Harder. The Inquisitor looked positively cheerful when Truculent gave him his instructions. He and his Defenders left to prepare Eva’s distraction.

  “It’s done. It will take a little time for Harder to arrange,” Truculent said to Eva.

  “Divert me then. What’s your plan to secure the Three?”

  With Harder absent Truculent felt more comfortable discussing the Three. “It’s not complicated. This Tress, or one of her group, has the formula for the Three. Reference is quite sure about this. They understand it has some significance and they were bargaining with Reference.”

  “Give them whatever they want. Why are you waiting?”

  Truculent really didn’t like it when Eva implied that he was stupid. “They want their freedom, and the factories gone.”

  “So? We have their DNA, clone them,” Eva yelled, her eyes almost bulging out of her head.

  Truculent bit his lip and comforted himself with the thought that it was Eva who was being stupid. “Simulations say that won’t work. Their biodiversity is essential as is, maybe, the peculiar harvesting arrangements in this factory. Change anything and everything could be lost.”

  Eva shook her head and squeezed her temples so hard with her massive fists that Truculent thought she would crack open her own skull. She dropped her hands and made an obvious effort to relax. To his surprise Truculent thought she was moderately successful.

  “I know that, and more than you’ll ever be capable of comprehending. My mental capacity is being overtaken by blood lust. I cannot think properly. There’s a roaring that must be silenced. It’ll take a lot of bloody battle. I need to begin now Truculent. Now!”

  He ignored her insult and told Harder they were coming immediately, ready or not.

  Many janitors had been arranged in an unbroken circle some ten metres in diameter. They were all half submerged into the floor with their shallow domed heads tipped forward at ninety degrees to form a wall. Running aimlessly around inside the circle were a dozen bizarre creatures, half machine, half native. Harder had discovered the ugly monsters in the product inventory of another factory. Once programmed with a target, they could exhibit a basic attack capability. Truculent hoped the bionic spiders, armed with projectile weapons and nasty claws, would provide some sort of distraction for the warrior woman.

  Eva’s armour might look antique but it was fabricated from the latest Inquisitor military material. It was near impenetrable and shock absorbing, proof against everything except the most advanced Vigilance weapons. Truculent also insisted that Eva activate her protective head covering; he really did not want to risk any damage to his treasured clone. This woman was quite different to anything else in his collection. Her body shouted out its hard fought and hard won experience. Every millimetre of her bare skin spoke of near death encounters through sometimes deep and ugly scarring. Most of her disfigurements were shallower mutilations, perhaps from glancing blows. Only her face was unscathed or had been constantly repaired while she lived. Perhaps her only feminine vanity? Every part of the body exuded power in form and movement. It was never really mindless. Eva wasn’t alone in there. Every major organ had cells capable of neural activity, memory, and instinct.

  The body no doubt coursed with a deep desire for violence, fuelled by old muscle memories of past battles. Truculent guessed it was this legacy that jolted and exaggerated Eva’s own feelings. Her physique desired to be challenged and stressed, to experience violent confrontation, to lead armies into battle, and to wage wars. His strange High Angel had placed herself inside a ferocious warrior.

  Truculent watched anxiously. Harder was obviously excited. They and the Defenders were standing outside the metre-high ring of janitors’ saucer shaped heads. The top halves of the furiously twisting spider creatures showed above the enclosure, racing around the circle, crashing into each other and the immovable janitor barrier. Harder had promised Truculent that the ugly creatures had been programmed to remain inside the circle and only attack anything crossing over the barrier. Truculent shouldn’t be worried. Eva was perfectly safe; her armour was impenetrable. She should enjoy the experience. Truculent wasn’t. The horrible things waiting for her savagely clicked and snapped their claws, their shoulder armaments dementedly danced in search of a target. The monsters waved their clutching metal fingers above their heads ready to grab and fire the instant anything crossed into their territory.

  Eva looked uncertain what to do. Truculent wondered if she was afraid. “Shut your eyes, clear your mind, let the body take over,” he whispered.

  She nodded, let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was as if Eva had unleashed a missile. The giantess flew at the barrier. Just before reaching the janitor wall she leapt high into the air and somersaulted over the janitors’ domed heads. Two double-edged blades slipped from forearm sheaths and locked in place over the back of her hands, protruding well beyond her clenched knuckles. Her eyes were open and looking everywhere as she seemingly hung in mid-air. Four of the monsters gathered directly below her, their weapons starting to lock. And in a blur that Truculent thought he’d imagined, the freakish human spiders’ heads were flying in every direction. A strange distorted roaring sound erupted all around Truculent as Eva knelt in the debris of four decapitated corpses. Their eight very alive companions surrounded her and moved in. Projectiles whizzed towards her prone body. A split-second later she was back high in the air. The projectiles crossed her suddenly empty body space and exploded into the advancing nightmares. Eva whi
rled and decapitated the last of the creatures which had managed to survive.

  The strange roar swelled as Eva stood erect in the arena with the twelve monsters scattered across the floor, in various states of dismemberment. Truculent gradually recognised the sound as Harder and his troops cheering, and he found himself smiling. The enemy had been dispatched in seconds in a liquid display of force.

  Truculent stared at Eva, still unable to believe his warrior clone had come to life. What was she and his body become?

  Chapter 10 – Block War

  Almost a year had passed since the destruction of the gateway and, according to Tippese, the Owners were due any moment. Battery Boy and the others knew they had to act. It was time to go to war.

  Four sets of aircraft engines roared into life. Birds scattered in every direction, spiralling up into a darkening sky over the Park, trying to escape the unexpected thunder. Battery Boy sat at the controls of one of the monster transports. It vibrated like an angry dragon straining to chase after the fleeing birds. He was piloting one of three identical craft laden with weapons of war. Mina and Tress were flying the other two.

  The fourth, different, smaller, more nimble craft lifted off the grass, rose high in the air and then sped away over the tops of the encircling buildings. Jugger was the pilot and he was carrying an enormous Pinkie and a grumpy Stuff, still arguing that he should be going instead of Tress or Mina. Jugger was taking them far from New York to somewhere they hoped would be safe if the blue light came.

  Battery Boy was glad Stuff would have someone to look after him. It wasn’t likely to be Battery Boy any more. He didn’t expect to come back. None of the three expected to survive their little war. The sun had set an hour earlier and twilight had given way to a dark, moonless night, with low cloud and light rain. Battery Boy didn’t think the darkness would offer much protection; it was probably only slightly safer than attacking the Iowa Block under the glare of the sun.