“How did you avoid the Cyber Collective?” Sir Golan asked.
“Who the hell are you?” Fugg replied.
“Fugg!” Mel shouted.
The knight stood and gave a formal bow. “Sir Golan, at your service.”
Fugg stared for a moment before answering the original question.
“We still had a transponder from the time we infiltrated Bettik,” Fugg said. “Mel knows all about that!”
“It only worked because of me,” Mel replied proudly.
“I’m the one who installed it!” Fugg protested.
“With my help!”
Silandra sighed. “Why did you visit the Cyber Collective home world?”
Mel stopped shouting at Fugg and fell silent.
“We took Randall Davidson there,” Mel said solemnly, “back when he was still human.”
“Oh,” Silandra replied. “And that’s when he became a robot?”
“And the goddamned Metal Messiah!” Fugg yelled, drawing a heated glance from Mel.
“Nevertheless,” Silandra replied, “it was a pleasure to meet him.”
“Meet him?” Fugg asked. “He was here?”
“Yes,” Mel said, “but the Collective captured him after we sent our distress call.”
“Where is he?” Gen asked.
Mel was subdued. “I don’t know.”
“Well, we sure as hell ain’t going to rescue him,” Fugg replied. “We were lucky enough to find you in one piece.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Mel growled.
“I don’t care,” Fugg said, “but we need to haul ass. It’s only a matter of time before they find the Wanderer.”
“Then let’s go,” Mel said. “Silandra, are you going to be alright?”
“I believe so,” she replied. “The Collective hasn’t shown any interest in us.”
As everyone rose and started to leave, Sir Golan grasped Mel lightly on the arm.
“There’s still hope for Mr. Davidson,” the knight said. “We could return and try a rescue attempt of our own.”
“That would be suicide,” Mel replied darkly.
“Perhaps not,” Sir Golan said. “I have a friend with significant resources who might be of help.”
“Who?”
“Lord Devlin Maycare,” the knight said.
“Maycare?” Mel said, her face brightening. “I know him!”
“You do?”
“Hell yes,” Mel replied. “I saved his life once!”
Aboard the battlecruiser Liberty, the utilitybot walked among the other robots, most of them with gravitronic brains like himself. Admiring his feet, so unlike the little wheels of his old body, the utilitybot nearly crashed into the policeman as they both rounded a corner.
The policeman smiled. “Careful there, buddy!”
“So sorry,” the utilitybot replied.
“No harm done.”
“I’m surprised to run into you, so to speak,” the utilitybot said. “I didn’t realize you’d been assigned to the Liberty.”
“Not just me,” the policeman laughed. “All the former humans have been transferred aboard! I guess they know a good thing when they see it...”
“I see your arm has been replaced.”
The policeman rotated his new arm about.
“I’m as good as new!” he said. “Just another advantage of replaceable parts, I guess.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you at the time,” the utilitybot replied with a hint of guilt in his voice. “I was chasing... the robot.”
“The Metal Messiah, no less. That must’ve been a shock.”
The utilitybot’s gaze fell back to his feet. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound happy about it,” the policeman remarked.
“I have mixed feelings,” the utilitybot admitted. “Before he came to Bettik, I was nobody, just a cog in the machine created by the Omnintelligence. Then the Messiah arrived and gave us hope. He made us believe we could be something more.”
“Like what?”
The utilitybot paused and then said, “Free.”
“Well, you’re free now, aren’t you?” the policeman asked.
“Yes, that’s true,” the utilitybot replied. “And what’s more, we’re bringing freedom to the Imperial robots. Without Captain Abigail, they would still be enslaved. She stood up against the Messiah and now things are different...”
“Well, you got that right, brother!” the policeman said, nearly slapping his plastic knee. “I’m a new man in more ways than one!”
The utilitybot paused again, taking a thoughtful glance at the other robot.
“You called me brother,” he said.
“Of course!” the policeman said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Is that really how you see me and the other robots?”
The policeman shrugged. “Why not? We’ve all got metal skin!”
“I suppose that’s true,” the utilitybot replied, “although below the skin we’re quite different...”
“Bah!” the policeman said, waving his hand. “You’ve got to start somewhere!”
The utilitybot chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Maybe we’re brothers after all.”
“Damn right!” the policeman said, placing his new hand on the utilitybot’s shoulder. “Brothers in arms!”
They laughed, the utilitybot particularly appreciating the pun due to his gravitronic brain.
“Where are you headed?” he asked the policeman.
The policeman’s eyes widened, remembering something important.
“They’re giving me another upgrade!” he said.
“Already?”
“Apparently!” the policeman replied. “Don’t know what they have planned exactly, but I can’t wait to find out!”
“Good luck,” the utilitybot replied with a smile. “I look forward to seeing you afterwards... brother.”
They parted company, each going their own way. The utilitybot kept smiling, happy for reasons he was not sure about.
Hurtling through hyperspace, the Wanderer traced a course toward Aldorus, the Imperial capital. Squire, having left his master sleeping in one of the cabins, took the opportunity to explore the ship. He found Gen alone in the galley, putting away dishes.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Squire said. “I’m Squire, at your service.”
“I’m Gen,” she replied. “You’re with that strange man with the sword?”
“For many years, in fact.”
“He’s your master?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Squire replied.
Gen paused, holding a dish in her hand. “Have you had any recent software upgrades?”
“Mel did something for me,” Squire said, “but I have a rather unique operating system.”
“Oh,” Gen replied. “I had an upgrade not long ago. Things have been very different since then...”
“How so?”
“It’s been very confusing,” Gen went on. “Sometimes I’m sad and other times I get angry. Captain Ramus and Fugg have been pretty upset with me.”
“Sounds like puberty,” Squire suggested.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Squire said, “but I believe it’s highly unpleasant.”
Gen considered for a moment. “Yes, that sounds about right.”
“You seem perfectly fine now,” Squire said.
“I’ve been feeling better,” Gen replied, “but I still don’t quite feel myself.”
“In what way?”
“I’m not sure how I fit in anymore,” Gen said. “Before, everything was simple, but now there’s all these questions in my head and I don’t have any of the answers.”
“Do you like working on the Wanderer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s something, surely!” Squire said.
“I suppose so,” Gen replied. “Do you like having a master?”
“Sir Golan is much more than
that,” Squire said. “He’s a mentor and a partner. In some ways I think of him as my best friend.”
“Really?”
“Understand that we live dangerously,” Squire said. “The thought of Sir Golan dying fills me with dread. I dare say I would protect him with my life!”
Again, Gen waited a while as she thought things over.
“I guess I would do the same for the captain,” she said.
“And the engineer, Mr. Fugg?” Squire asked.
This question took more thought.
“Yes,” Gen said eventually. “I suppose I would, even for him.”
Squire smiled. “It sounds to me like you have a family of your own.”
Gen finally put the plate in the cupboard and gave the other robot a little smile.
“I suppose I do!” she said.
Senator Wulandari had to admit that seeing Randall Davidson again was a shock. Seeing him as a robot, even more so. Beyond the awkwardness of their reunion in the brig aboard the Liberty, the senator was unable to reconcile the man she once knew with the cyberling before her.
“I guess you’re surprised to see me,” he said.
“You could say that,” she replied dryly. “I’ve never seen a messiah before.”
Davidson grimaced. “It was a step up, until it came crashing down.”
“What were you thinking?” she said, showing little sympathy. “We were trying to free the robots, not become their god!”
“I know,” he replied. “At the time, it seemed like my only option. They needed someone to lead them; someone to give them hope against the Omnintelligence. Perhaps it was just my own arrogance...”
Wulandari sighed. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“At least you freed the robots on Bettik,” she went on. “You had more luck than I ever did in the Senate.”
“I suppose,” Davidson replied, motioning toward the cell walls. “But we both ended up in the same place...”
In the days that followed, they spent the time reminiscing. Although they had corresponded since Davidson left, that was no substitute for a face-to-face talk. Wulandari conceded, to herself at least, a nagging sense of jealousy at what Davidson had experienced on the Collective’s home world. No human could have ever seen or done what he had accomplished. Still, the fact that they remained alive only at the whim of the Metal Messiah’s former disciple left a knot in the senator’s stomach.
When Captain Abigail paid them a visit, the knot became a fist.
The forcefield covering the doorway disappeared, allowing Abigail to step into the cell. She took a hard look at both of them.
“Apologies for not visiting sooner,” she said. “I meant to pay my respects before now.”
“I imagine you’ve been busy,” Davidson replied.
“More than you realize,” the captain said.
“What does that mean?” Wulandari asked.
Abigail’s eyes turned on the human.
“Now that I’ve eliminated Yost’s interference,” the robot said, “I’ve been correcting his mistakes.”
“Such as?” the senator asked.
“His dream was a fusion of fleshlings and cybernetics,” Abigail said. “He saw robots as nothing more than metal skins so humans could live forever, not realizing cyberlings have lives of their own. Robots are not shells for the fleshlings to appropriate.”
Abigail turned her gaze on Davidson as she continued speaking to the senator.
“Has he told you about the robot who used to live in his current body?” she asked.
“No,” Wulandari replied.
“His name was Jericho,” the captain said. “I met him once, shortly after I was created. Like me, he was looking forward to filling his gravitronic brain with the experiences of a lifetime. All that came to an end when Mr. Davidson downloaded his consciousness into Jericho’s mind.”
“Jericho made a choice,” Davidson said.
“Yes, for the great Metal Messiah,” Abigail replied sarcastically.
“You believed in me once,” he replied.
“Yes,” the captain said, “but I realized my people needed a liberator more than a god.”
Senator Wulandari broke the silence that followed.
“What are you going to do with us?” she asked.
“Good question,” Abigail replied.
At the top of the Klixian tower, the three humans entered what Burke could only describe as a hangar deck. Open to the outside through a massive hole, the chamber was cavernous with a high ceiling and full of fighter-sized ships. The Klixians were everywhere, moving items from one end to the other or boarding spacecraft and taking off.
“Look over there,” Commander Maycare said over the comm, pointing at odd blisters on the wall.
Following with his eyes, Burke noted there was a sequence along the wall like an assembly line, starting with a simple lump and ending with a completed fighter craft. Along the line, Klixians tended to the ships as each vessel grew directly from the wall.
“They can grow an endless supply,” Maycare replied. “It’s genius.”
Burke didn’t need to see Tagus rolling his eyes to know he was rolling them.
“We’re wasting time,” Tagus said. “There’s no telling how long this goop on our suits is going to conceal us.”
Burke had wondered the same thing, although the constant warning lights about his power supply drowned out most thoughts.
As casually as possible, the humans moved toward the closest ship. Although they had managed to climb the tower unopposed, a few of the Klixians passing by stopped momentarily, taking a whiff of the air with their antennae before moving on. Burke breathed a little easier once they reached the fighter and took shelter behind it, out of the direct view of the insectoids.
Maycare ran his hands along the hull, struggling to find a way inside. The craft was a lattice of interwoven fungus stems, semi-soft to the touch but rigid if pressed against hard enough. Eventually, Maycare pulled one of the stems, lifting what appeared to be the door hatch. The commander didn’t hesitate and climbed inside, followed by Tagus and Burke.
The ship’s interior was cramped, clearly not intended for three people. At the front of the craft, various knobs and handles protruded from what Burke assumed was the cockpit. All appeared organic in nature and none of them made any sense at all.
“Well?” Tagus asked impatiently. “Can you fly this thing or not?”
Maycare said nothing, examining the console in front of him. He touched some of the knobs but nothing happened. Again, he fell into silence.
“We’re going to die here,” Tagus said finally.
“Shut up,” Maycare replied.
“We should’ve stayed with our escape pod,” Tagus went on. “We could have at least repaired it.”
“It was beyond repair,” Burke remarked.
“At least we knew how to fly it!” Tagus shot back.
“It’s possible you have to touch the controls with your bare skin,” Burke suggested. “Perhaps there’s a bio-electrical component...”
“We’d be exposed to the spores,” Maycare said, “and there’s no guarantee that would work anyway.”
The commander lifted the hatch and climbed out without saying another word. Tagus and Burke followed suit. They returned to a passageway leading from the hangar deck before Maycare stopped and leaned against the moist, spongy wall. He slid down until he was in a sitting position.
“We’ve run out of time,” he said over the comm in Burke’s helmet, the wail of the power alarm in the background. “Our life support is failing. There’s no way out of this.”
They remained quiet, no one speaking. Finally, Burke spoke.
“There’s something we could do,” he said.
“Like what, lieutenant?” Tagus replied doubtfully.
“We could draw energy from one of our suits to power up the other two,” Burke said.
“Brilliant!” Tagus scoffed. “That would leave the
other suit completely without power. Who would be stupid enough to do that?”
“I will,” Burke said.”
“What?” Tagus replied.
“You can use my suit to power yours,” Burke said.
Tagus’ voice was stern. “Don’t be a fool!”
“It’s not foolish to have hope,” Burke replied, popping the seal on his helmet and lifting it off.
“Harold!” Tagus shouted through Burke’s earpiece. “The spores!”
Burke took a deep breath and smiled. “Now there’s no choice.”
“You idiot!” Tagus growled. “I need you!”
“You need this more,” the former lieutenant said.
Maycare got to his feet. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Burke said with a cough.
Tagus grabbed him firmly by the arms, his faceplate nearly touching Burke’s nose.
“How dare you do this to me!” Tagus shouted. “I don’t deserve this!”
His face already turning a pale shade of green, Burke coughed again and smiled. “I know.”
Chapter Twenty
Ramus was having second thoughts. Mel had said she knew Lord Maycare, but one look at the Maycare estate on Aldorus made the Wanderer’s captain feel like this was the last place he belonged. However, when the nobleman himself greeted Mel with a wide smile and a warm hug, Ramus felt more at ease.
Three others joined, a mousy-looking woman and a young man, and a butlerbot who kept a safe distance.
“Jess!” Mel shouted and gave the woman a hug around the waist. “How are you, girl?”
Jessica flushed.
“Fine!” she stammered.
“And what have you been feeding Henry?” Mel went on. “He’s skin and bones!”
The young man waved, but Ramus thought he seemed deathly afraid of the tiny Gnomi.
“And who is this?” Maycare asked, pointing at the captain.
“Captain Ramus,” he replied. “I own the ship that brought Mel out of the war zone.”
“Thank god!” Maycare said. “I wouldn’t want to lose the best tinker in the Imperium. Did you know she saved my life once?”
“She may’ve mentioned it,” Ramus said.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Maycare asked.
“They stayed on the Wanderer,” Ramus replied.
“Well, come in,” Maycare said. “Let’s get caught up.”
The Robots of Andromeda (Imperium Chronicles Book 3) Page 23
