The Risen Gods

by Frank Kennedy

  Although the teacher was James’s physical doppelganger, his voice was not. It sounded closer to his old Earth’s voice-activated assistants with names such as Siri or Alexa.

  “Question,” he interrupted the teacher. “How long does this training require?”

  “They designed this primary program for Tier 2 initiates. The typical initiate would be eight years old. Your body, however, is far more advanced. Its current composition and your life experience might conflict with normal protocols.”

  “Which means what?”

  “Given a consistent regimen of two hours per day, you should advance to the next tier in four months.”

  James snickered. He thought of the Jewel, his ace in the hole during his duel with Valentin.

  “Not likely,” he said. “And I don’t have that kind of time anyway. What happens after the training?”

  “Typically, you will advance to Tier 3, where you will learn kwin-sho. The art of reconfiguring your body to achieve superior effectiveness is the final prerequisite for placement in the Unification Guard. Is that not your ultimate goal?”

  “No.” He thought about his actions since crossing the fold. “But I need discipline. So, what do you say we get the ball rolling? Show me what you got.”

  The doppelganger offered a side nod.

  “Begin by duplicating my stance.”

  Simple enough, James thought. He studied his teacher’s frame, the angles, and firmed himself into a similar position.

  “Incorrect,” the teacher said. “Your legs are positioned inconsistently. Extend both to 30 degrees. At present, your left is 28 degrees, the right is 27.”

  James tried again and received another rebuff.

  “You have overextended to 33 and 31 degrees, respectively. Compensate, James.”

  The teacher did not like his third attempt either. “You are neither listening to your body nor following my lead. You now hold at 28 and 31. All elements of your stance must find harmony. Reposition your shoulders, pull back your torso three degrees.”

  “Look, I’m trying, but it ain’t like I got a measuring tape on me.”

  “The mind can control measurements. Reposition now.”

  James detected impatience. “OK. Sorry. Here we go again.”

  He held the new stance for several seconds as the trainer eyed him in silence. The program glitched for a split second.

  “You are still unaligned, but I detect an unexpected anomaly. Your musculature is changing at a steady pace. You have evolved by 9.8 ounces in the past two minutes. This rate is unnatural and will require constant recalibration to the program.”

  James smiled, proud of himself. “Didn’t they tell you? I’m going through a growth spurt.”

  “Then I will modify the requirements for your initiation. Reposition to this stance to the best of your ability, James.” It waited for him to do so. “Acceptable. Now, hold this position for ten minutes. Regulate your breathing to a minimal flow with your lips closed. Most important, do not blink. Not even once.”

  The instructions seemed doable except for the last one. He’d fail, but that was the point. He thought about giving in, allowing the Jewel to help him, but James knew better. He blinked.

  “As long as you’re with me,” he told Ignatius, “I’m not complete.”

  “About time you figured that out,” Ignatius replied from his command chair. A brilliant gold mushroom formed on the Earth’s surface, spreading across southern Asia. “Do you see, James? That is what happens when you lack discipline and humility.”

  James remembered the horrifying scene of desolation that stretched for miles across Alabama the first time he unleashed the Jewel’s explosive potential. Ignatius continued.

  “Discipline can be taught with ease, but the exercise of it by the learner is a far more complicated matter. This Chancellor program may offer some superficial benefits, but you are not destined to wear a uniform or be controlled by a chain of command. When the great moments of decision come, you will be tempted to throw such principles aside. No, James, you are far from complete, and I am going nowhere soon.”

  The interchange with Ignatius did not distract James. He followed the teacher’s orders. Much to his surprise, five minutes passed without one blink. Pressure formed, the temptation grew, but he resisted. Then, as the final minutes closed in, the pain of dry eyes intensified. Much to his surprise, ten minutes seemed reachable on the first try.

  That’s when a shadow moved into the periphery of his vision. Seconds later, he heard a familiar voice.

  “I remember my first day,” Valentin said. “Took me twenty tries to complete the first test.”

  James lost focus, blinked twice, and relaxed his stance. He glanced at the teacher, then at his brother, who stood at the edge of the observation deck, admiring the crystalline sparkles drifting around the Atrium Aeterna.

  “I worked harder than every other initiate,” Valentin continued, as if oblivious to whether James was listening. “Had no choice. I was smaller, less aggressive. No one thought I could be UG material.” Then he pivoted to James. “Least of all my father.”

  James tapped the amp against his temple, and the holographic program vanished.

  “Guess your voice box is working again, huh?”

  James recognized another change. Valentin’s eyes gave it away: Resignation, defeat. No. Humility. The animal was driven out. His brother started toward James but stopped at a safe distance, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

  “No one ever bested me before today. You killed me, James.”

  “Thought so, too. Turns out, the fight was rigged.”

  Valentin nodded. “Which is why we need to talk. About the admiral, about my father… our father. The future. All of it.”

  James looked his brother at eye level for the first time, his bulk approaching Valentin’s.

  “I guess we’re both abominations now,” he said, recalling Valentin’s words during the duel. “So, yeah, dude. Let’s talk.”

  23

  Offices of the Admiralty, Suite 70

  Great Plains Metroplex

  R EAR ADMIRAL AUGUSTUS PERRONE enjoyed holding court while sipping what he considered the best café in the Collectorate. He swiveled in comfort during the circastream call, shifting his attention between the faces floating around his desk in holographic bubbles, their filters streaming like raindrops on glass. Leonard Mauritius of the Trent Presidium; Barbara Quinton of the Kilmurry Presidium; First Admiral Josephus Fierston aboard the intersystem transfer station above Ganymede. And ever faithful at Perrone’s side, Maj. Sexton Marshall, 9th Battalion, Inner Colony Command.

  “As I noted before,” Perrone reassured his guests, “this is an evolving plan. The first major experiment was a success. Once we have the Ukrainian Jewel, we move into the next phase. And to arrest your concern, Barbara, I should remind you that as of one week ago, all of us were blind to what was about to happen. I would say we’ve done an exceptional job of playing catch-up. Yes?”

  Barbara, a regal woman wearing a necklace of interlaced diamonds, grunted. “Can anyone ever be sure they have caught up to Emil Bouchet? He has fooled the best of us time and again.”

  “Here, here!” Perrone slapped his desk. “And he may yet find another curve to play. But our people are in position. When we move on SkyTower, he will realize we have him in a vice.”

  Leonard Mauritius interrupted. “Can you be certain he has no agents inside the GPM?”

  Perrone turned to Maj. Marshall. “Sexton?”

  “Negative. We have vetted everyone in the Admiralty division and its associations. No one here would dare ally with Bouchet.”

  Leonard shook his head. “Among the Admiralty? No. That’s not how he would come at you. Have you vetted the Solomons?”

  The others laughed. Perrone joined in. “I thought I was paranoid, Leonard. The Solomons have no interest in espionage. If they align themselves with a Chancellor faction and fail, they expose themselves.”

&nbs
p; “And what does that mean?” Barbara asked.

  “The Solomons are biding their time, waiting for the collapse of the Chancellory. They see themselves as our replacements one day, albeit a few generations down the line.”

  First Admiral Fierston added, “They may very well get their wish, if we do not sort this business in proper order. What news do you have of the Ukrainian?”

  Perrone took a sip and nodded to Maj. Marshall, who spoke.

  “We have run into complications. The initial reports were chaotic, but she arrived and appeared, at least briefly, to be secured with our faction. Or should I say, with Dr. Ophelia Tomelin’s allies. We initiated Scorch protocol and eliminated Bouchet’s forces. As best as we can determine, our original assessment of the Ukrainian’s compliance to Chancellor command was inaccurate.”

  Disgruntled voices rose in unison. Barbara was the loudest.

  “Excuse me, Major? Are you saying both living Jewels on Earth are exercising free will? Their programs failed?”

  “Failure is a relative term,” Perrone responded. “Both appear functional in every evolved manner except for the blind loyalty they promised us. Explain to them, Major.”

  “Yes, sir. We have confirmed each of them is a Berserker. James Bouchet’s own account of his experience matches a report filed by an agent who crossed the IDF into the Ukrainian Expanse. The agent detected the signature of a Class 3 thermonuclear blast within ten kilometers of the fold. Since that Earth has only evolved to primitive uses of electricity, the explanation is obvious.”

  “And what happened to the agent?” Admiral Fierston said.

  “She was killed after returning with the Jewel and an observer. She filed her report seconds before her death, as Tomelin’s allies lost control of the Jewel.”

  “Then Bouchet’s people could have her,” Leonard said.

  “No,” Marshall replied. “She was last seen with an observer who is a loyalist to Tomelin’s group. Our concern is that the observer has not reported in, and we have been unable to track either.”

  “However,” Perrone continued, “we have dispatched agents to the region. A delicate operation. Rough terrain, extensive earthquake activity near the fold. We will have her soon enough.”

  “If I may ask,” Barbara said, “Why bother? We have James Bouchet, and he appears cooperative, despite your extreme measures, Augustus. There are eight others like him off-world. Should we not just eliminate the Ukrainian and cut our losses?”

  “No. First, we do not have any of those other eight assets in our possession. Second, I need her for him.” Perrone tossed out a cube of the observation deck on level 30, where James faced his doppelganger. “He is the most stunning evolution in the history of the human race. If he represents our future – and that remains a significant if – he will need a partner for procreation. In the end, our survival rests on the ability to make babies. The Chancellory has, at best, one more generation before we lose that ability. Yes?”

  Perrone cut himself short. He was not ready to mention Valentin’s restoration. They didn’t need to know about the immortals. Not yet.

  “Speaking of the other assets,” Admiral Fierston said, “We have dispatched teams to the appropriate colonies, and we should have a grasp on our success rate within the next standard day. We are working on less intelligence than we had for the Earth assets.”

  “We are dangling by a thread,” Leonard said. “If this falls apart, if word gets back to the Green, if Emil reestablishes his leverage with the systemwide presidiums, we could lose everything. I put my entire descendency on the line, Augustus. I want a future for the Chancellory, but not at the cost of living the rest of my days in disgrace.”

  Perrone smiled. “You speak for everyone, I’m sure. But I intend for this gambit to go our way. Are there any further concerns?”

  When the circastream ended, Perrone dissolved the cubes.

  “Well done, Sexton. Now, for the hard choices. We have loose bolts in need of tightening. Is our man in Ophelia’s company ready to move on our orders?”

  “He is. I think we gave him through more hardship than he expected, and he’s rather put-out. But he’ll act when told.”

  “Excellent. As soon as we have the Ukrainian in our custody, and the off-world assets are secured, Ophelia loses the last of her value. The moment that happens, I want her dead. She is far too loud.”

  “Yes. And once she knows what we…”

  “She might find her way back to Emil Bouchet.”

  “And the others in her company? The friends loyal to James?”

  “They will not matter much longer.” He pointed to the last cube, which showed James now talking to his brother. “Valentin made a move toward reconciliation, as you predicted, Sexton. He is where we need him. Humbled. He will defer to his older brother, as any good Chancellor might. Perhaps they will even connive against us. No matter! Let them have their fun. As long as James has the loyalty of a brother and is paired with the mother of his future children, he will lose interest in Samantha and Michael. Then we tighten loose bolts. Yes?”

  Sexton nodded. “If I may, sir? Your ability to play the game with such relish has been beautiful to observe.”

  Perrone took another sip before setting the cup on his desk.

  “I do love it, Major. I only wish I had acted soon enough to see the same admiration on the face of my son. I like to think Christian would have enjoyed the game.” His smile disappeared. “Which reminds me. Tell our man that when the time comes, I want Michael Cooper to experience unimaginable pain before we execute him.”

  “I will see it done, Admiral.”

  Marshall left the office, and Perrone studied the live cube from level 30. He watched Valentin move ever closer to James. And then, after numerous exchanges, it happened. The necessary turn.

  Valentin extended his right hand.

  “And so it begins,” Perrone whispered.

  24

  T HE FIRST TIME JAMES STUDIED VALENTIN, he looked into the eyes of a grizzled war veteran. A hardened warrior, perhaps in his mid-twenties, a monster of a man rippling with the features of a Mr. Universe. Now, as James grew toward his brother’s mass, he thought of Valentin as the 15-year-old he truly was. Softer, stunned by a reality he never thought possible, rethinking the world, afraid of what he might learn next.

  “I wish I knew where to start,” Valentin said. “Every instinct told me you had to die. I never knew of you until yesterday, and my family legacy… it belonged to me. Only me. You heard the admiral before the fight. What he promised me if I won.”

  “Oh, sure,” James smiled. “He tossed some whoppers my way, too. But fact is, I knew things even he didn’t. Still doesn’t. And that fight? Dude, you never had a chance, despite what Perrone said.”

  Valentin nodded. “You are suggesting he foresaw the outcome?”

  “Not sure, but I reckon he made an educated guess. Look, Valentin, I’ve only been this way for a little while, but I know what I can do. And dude, I’m just getting started.”

  Valentin examined James’s body. “This growth. It will continue?”

  “Looks like.”

  “To what end?”

  “I don’t think there is an end. I’m not human, at least not anymore. We might have the same DNA, but I got something else flowing through my blood. And it’s a damn sight more powerful.”

  In the awkward pause that followed, Valentin sighed. He looked askance, as if seeking a new way forward.

  “When I was young, just entering Tier 1, I wished for a brother. Most of my peers had older siblings, many of them in the UG. They were sources of great inspiration. I was small for my age, so I needed inspiration.”

  James thought of Ben for the first time since he crossed the fold. His heart raced.

  “I get it,” he told Valentin. “I had a brother, so to speak. Turned out he wasn’t. Not a source of inspiration, either, but I reckon he tried his best for me.”

  “Perhaps you will tell me about him one
day.”

  “I think my old life will fade away before long.”

  Valentin stiffened his shoulders. “I understand. The future is the only path. Yes? Tell me, James, where do we go from here?”

  James laughed. “We could try not to kill each other again.”

  Valentin released a smirk. “An armistice. Yes?”

  “Sounds good to me, dude.”

  Valentin extended his right hand. “Welcome, James Bouchet. To the Collectorate. To the Chancellory. To my family.”

  The first two sounded nice, the third unsettling. The father James was so eager to meet seemed increasingly dangerous. Yet he also understood the reunion was inevitable. He extended his hand, and the brothers shared an unyielding grip.

  James pulled in close without letting go. He lowered his voice, wondering whether anyone might be listening—especially Perrone.

  “Remember what the admiral called us, Valentin? Risen gods?” Valentin nodded. “He’s wrong, dude. We’re not gods. We’re monsters, and he damn well knows it. We’re killers. You’ve been doing it for a living, and me… well, I killed thousands with a thought. And apparently, you can’t die. Perrone wants to control us. He will find the others like me, and I’m sure as shit there are others like you.”

  Valentin nodded. “I agree. Do you perceive his larger plan?”

  “No, but I got a few wild ideas. For now, I figure we’d best play along till we know where this is going. Dude, we’re gonna need each other. You good with that?”

  “I am. You are my older brother, and you have proven your worth. I need no more convincing.”

  The admission surprised James, but he rolled with his new, exalted status.

  They stepped back from each other.