Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  “He's one cool cucumber,” Max said. “He's not even reacting.”

  Kord kept firing. “We can't cede the air to him. Launch a couple espies.”

  They both launched a pair off their spring armor packs. The little eyeball sized reconnaissance bots flew up and whisked out of sight. Kord pushed Jordahk to signal another random movement. Despite it, the next shot was unnervingly accurate, burning through the side of Kord's treader.

  “Wheelies and striders offline,” Highearn said.

  “He's cutting down our options,” Kord said. His brows knit together.

  “We can't keep dancing around like this. Sooner or later he's going to get lucky,” Jordahk said.

  “Hopefully our espies can show us something.”

  They heard a few pops from above, and small bits of shrapnel fell to the ground.

  Jordahk looked around. “Is that…?”

  “Our espies. He's going aggressive, sacrificing espies one-for-one. He must have a lot up there.”

  “I've lost contact with the satellites,” Highearn said.

  “A dampening net?” Kord asked. “What did he bring, a hauler-load of them? We need more firepower.”

  Jordahk glanced at the fanicle. “I can make it.”

  “Kid,” Max chided, “this guy's a pro. Shooting by triangulation is buying you time. But leaving cover is inviting a direct shot. He'll perforate you.”

  “Second threat approaching,” Highearn said. A VAD appeared. “Visuals are a few seconds old, from the last of our destroyed espies.”

  “This just keeps getting better,” Jordahk bemoaned.

  The object was closing fast, leaving a cloud of dirt behind. It was faster than a human and smaller than the vehicle. The way it moved—it's gait... Jordahk had overcome many fears, but the pang he still felt surprised him. Reasonably calm under fire by a pro with a sniper gun, this thing had the power to scare him.

  “A DAWG,” Jordahk murmured.

  Kord shook his head. “Someone has coin to burn and a bone to pick.”

  “Next shot coming in,” Max said.

  “It's different,” Highearn added.

  “Move it, Jordahk.” His father spoke as if they'd been drilling this very tactical situation for years. Perhaps they had. A line of fire streaked clear over their heads and intersected the fanicle. The energy transfer made a brilliant flash before the explosion. “Drak it all anyway! I just got that one!”

  The eruption of his father's outrage shocked Jordahk out of his personal battle with fear. “Sorry.” It was the only response that came to mind.

  “You were saying something about it getting better?”

  Jordahk realized the banter helped. He spotted Goldy's body and let out a breath. He'd never particularly cared for the robot, but he didn't want to see the investment lost. Business had been good with the machine. People liked shooting bots.

  Recalling an encounter with a sentry two years before, Jordahk remarked, “Why do robots keep exploding around me?”

  Kord shook his head with a sad smile. “Why do my fanicles keep getting destroyed?”

  With their options in fragments, the time for desperate plans was upon them.

  “I don't understand how the shooter's body is taking that punishment,” Highearn said. The AI had the detachment of a military observer.

  “It's a sure bet Vittora's going volcanic,” Kord said. “Our pings and the fanicle's going dark? We better finish this guy before she gets a hold of him.” He adopted the air of the instructor. “What do we have left?” He felt his chest pocket. “Oh yeah, this little thing.” The metal dragonfly came to life on his armored glove. “What do we have to lose?”

  Jordahk blinked at the sight. “That's rhetorical, right?” Its head jerked back and forth, and its eyes rotated independently. The tail flexed out, causing a circular saw-blade of blue-black to unfold. The blade began to glow. “A powered osmium cutting-edge? Where's that thing getting the energy?”

  Kord's eyes narrowed. “So that's another problem. Its reserves are already draining.”

  “Time to move again,” Max said.

  A shot fragmented the wall, sending debris into the hard air of Jordahk's faceplate. Now it was just making him angry.

  “I'm going to have to reach out and expand its mystic freecells,” Kord said.

  “Dard, are you up to that? Let me help you.”

  “It's okay. I've done something like this once before.” He glanced down at his thigh. “Besides, you've got your own tricks to pull off.”

  His father's brow knit, and Jordahk sensed activity in that mystic part of his brain. The dragonfly leaped into the air, zigging and zagging with wild abandon. The air above them was peppered with sparks and flashes, and little clouds of debris began to fall.

  His father smiled through gritted teeth. “It's an espy destroyer.”

  It was their first bit of good news. Now Jordahk needed to come up with his own, and fast. “What about the DAWG?”

  “Approximately two minutes out,” Highearn said.

  Jordahk looked down at his belt.

  “Seriously kid,” Max said, “We just got that thing. We don't even know how to work it. You could send yourself on a one-way trip to the Ajurian Realm.”

  “I thought Highearn was the pessimistic one around here.”

  “The sniper's losing triangulation,” Highearn said, “but move, because he's preparing to fire best guess.”

  The strain did not leave Kord's eyes as they moved. A line of flame erupted from the wall, spinning his body as it cut his arm. A hardened armor section vaporized, and no small amount of blood was exposed.

  Kord spit out inert dirt. “Am I a shot magnet today?” Grimacing, he struggled to his feet before Jordahk could get to him. “Let's go. Highearn, stop that bleeding.” Their AIs controlled the micros in their bloodstreams, and clotting was, sadly, something in which they'd had much practice. The dragonfly suddenly appeared, landing on the ledge above them, its blade dark. “What're you doing here?”

  “I think you stopped concentrating,” Jordahk said. “Let me do it.”

  “An espy destroyer's not going to stop a DAWG. Look, you work on your crazy strategy, and I'll work on mine.” Kord's brows squeezed together again and the dragonfly darted into the sky, tail blade glowing anew.

  “If I can get clear before that DAWG gets a line-of-sight and tells the sniper where our heads are...” He touched the belt buckle with the open circle and four wings. “Maybe this thing.”

  “You've got legacy shells in your bag, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don't think I'm up to using one and the belt at the same time. Didn't you bring a sheller?”

  “Yeah, it's in the fanicle. How about those cartridges from the vault?”

  Jordahk shrugged and loaded one into the autobuss—and promptly dropped it from the sudden flash of heat. “Ow! It's hot!”

  “I registered no spike in temperature,” Max said.

  The strain on his father's face urged Jordahk on. At least Highearn had stopped the bleeding. Picking up the autobuss confirmed what Max said. Its temperature was the same as always. The spike must have been a mental thing… a mystic thing. He loaded two more experiencing the same brief flash of heat, but held on with the conviction that it was illusory.

  “Max, give me a top-down and project the DAWG's course.”

  Where it was heading the ground sloped up until the wall was no more. About 100m beyond was an upthrust of rock the size of their fanicle.

  “An impossible distance by any means of locomotion you currently possess,” Highearn said.

  “Pessimist,” Max said. “But he's got a point. Even if you broke out the striders or wheelies, I couldn't get you there.”

  The popping clouds of aerial debris advanced downrange from overhead.

  “All right, let's get some of ours up there.” Jordahk launched two more espies off his pack only to see them pop into debris a moment later. “That radiated bug! Doesn't it know the di
fference?”

  Kord put a hand to his forehand. “I'm not the best at reaching out, but even if I were, this thing considers directions a suggestion. It's got a one track mind, solely devoted to destruction.”

  “So much for air superiority,” Max said.

  Kord sighed. “For anybody.”

  After the sniper's next guess ripped by, Jordahk faced the distant rocky upthrust and started powering the belt. A distracting surge of activity went through his compy.

  “It's not me, it's Wixom,” Max said.

  Jordahk had become so accustomed to interfacing with Max, that he sometimes forgot whose compy it was. Wixom was created by a legendary Sojourner whose moniker many were reluctant to even utter. They feared it like old folklore, most not knowing why.

  “The Bitlord,” Jordahk whispered.

  “My master has created me for his purposes,” Wixom said. His resonating voice was accented in that strange old way akin to his grandfather's, only more pronounced. “If you intend to bring this flawed device to the next level, we're parting ways, for you may never come out the other side.”

  Wixom's bracelet could withstand the punishment of a battlefield with nary a scratch. It was never really in danger—until Jordahk straddled dimensions. From that durability was no protection.

  The AI was not under Jordahk's direction like Max in his original rig. That ring had been destroyed by Wixom's evil brother. To save Max, Jordahk had transferred him into Wixom's compy, but not only transferred, empowered more than its host desired. Wixom didn't follow the rules of AI behavior, and perhaps held a grudge from that incident. And now Jordahk had to wrestle with the self-preservation programming of the Bitlord.

  “I'm not doing this without Max,” Jordahk said. Personal AIs controlled communication, blood micros, and a host of battlefield equipment among other indispensable things.

  His resolve steeled for a confrontation they couldn't afford to have right now. In their first round Jordahk had shown he could hurt the AI. Wixom had been taken by surprise, but it had two years to formulate new defenses. Jordahk felt impossible firewalls rising.

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Max said.

  The compy bracelet's delicate links resembled ceramic looking platinum. When light hit them just right, organic swirls manifested on the surface. Its appearance signified rare and valuable high mystic. The links held fine capillaries of mirror rhodium. Tiny points of light dashed through them with intensity.

  “Just drop me and continue with your folly,” Wixom said.

  The spring armor on Jordahk's right-hand and forearm softened without orders, and the bracelet fell to the dirt. He felt his ire rising, but let it pass. Anger wouldn't serve him here.

  “What are you doing over there?” Kord said. “There's another wave of espies coming in.” He was looking drawn from enhancing the wild dragonfly. “Highearn, why can't you touch the satellites yet?”

  “I believe there's a layer of high-altitude espies dedicated to dampening our comm.”

  “If I send the dragonfly up there, the rest will swarm in, locating us down to the hair.” Kord slammed the wall with the butt of his pistol. “We'd be slag in seconds.” He faced Jordahk. “I can't keep this up.”

  By habit, Jordahk started to query Max about the arrival time of the DAWG, but felt instantly the absence of connectivity. He picked up the bracelet noticing the separation was farthest from the one different link. The coupling of purple-gray metal.

  Neumenium.

  A gift his grandfather had worn, perhaps for centuries, on his own compy before passing it down. It held one of the few things Wixom feared. It's too bad that Jordahk was wary of it too. He hoped he was never desperate enough to call upon whatever that thing was within the neumenium coupling.

  He no sooner straightened with the bracelet that his armor froze in position. Jordahk struggled against the mechanical strength of the enhanced joints. Spring armor was dumb on purpose to prevent remote tampering. Of course, the designers never thought a personal AI would act this way towards its own admin.

  Jordahk had to swallow hard against rising gorge. Personal AIs revered their admin's life above all else. This concept was so ingrained into society that entire bitsmith houses had closed because a few publicized cases showed hints of laxity on this issue.

  He pushed against joints whose friction had increased many fold. A righteous indignation, building for two years, spiked. His awareness changed. The environment grew dim while a new perception grew intense. He could feel energy, almost see it in his armor. He reached out, collecting it in hands made of sheer will.

  Kord's head whipped in Jordahk's direction. “What the—”

  “I'm getting strange readings from Jordahk's compy,” Highearn said. “Max, Jordahk, and the Wixom creation seem to be… at odds.”

  “Now? Then that's an understatement.” He pushed off the wall, leaving a bloodstain behind. A couple of meters down another sniper shot blasted through rock at head level. “Not the time to be arguing with your AI.”

  Jordahk heard the admonishment from within a world of energy and light. His armor went slack and his treaders became functionless boots as he drained their energy, grasping it in defiance of scientum understanding.

  “Initiating failsafe mode,” Max said. “Initiating semi-permanent blood micro shutdown, the alchemus gland too. It's going to be a pain starting these all up again. Armor connectivity severed as much as I can.”

  Max was under attack and still doing all he could to protect him. Wixom hadn't touched those areas, but could potentially wreak havoc if he chose to with malevolence. There was nothing Max could keep secret forever within the confines of Wixom, even with Jordahk's previous protections. They had to be bolstered, and that would be his starting point, his fortress.

  With energy grasped he plunged into the impossibly large inner world of the Bitlord's creation. His thoughts came faster, freed from the physical. His father would have to keep an eye on things out there. This wasn't a reach out one could do with straddled perceptions.

  His old visualization of Wixom's interior formed before him. A giant forest, dark and endless. He found Max's protected citadel amid it, a circular wall of huge stones surrounding a single giant tree. Jordahk alighted within it and forced from his mind the memory of his Pyrrhic victory in this very spot. The unpredictable entity within the neumenium coupling, and Aristahl, had saved him then.

  Pops isn't here.

  The forest moved, trying to breach the wall. The branches of shadowy trees clawed at hewn stones. Some, successfully plucked, were hurled against the tree that was Max. Jordahk's senses were vivid in this world. He felt debris fall upon his shoulders as the tree trembled and bark ripped.

  “You brought me back once kid, and I'm grateful,” Max said. “But if you get burned trying to save me again it'll undo so much of what we've worked for all these years.”

  “I'm not going to lose you to this elitist, rule-breaking AI.” The hand clasping Wixom in the real world was shocked and spasmed, but held tight. Then it began to feel warm. Who knew the temperatures such a creation might be able to generate. “He's going to burn through my gauntlet if we don't stop this soon.”

  Jordahk dodged as another hurled block turned to rubble against Max's bark. The energy held in his hands was mighty in this micro universe, but he had to deploy it somehow. Climbing the wall, whose top was now crenelated due to missing stones, he focused the build-up and slashed. An arc of energy cut wizened hardwoods sheer through. They fell back, crunching like massive ancient trees of Earth.

  Racing to other hotspots around the wall, he slashed again and again. The encroaching trees fell, but more took their place from the endless forest. It was impossible to keep up in a situation growing hopeless.

  “You've got a sniper and a DAWG to deal with out there,” Max said, “Your father's counting on you.”

  “You're going to help me beat those things, Max.”

  Wixom wasn't as evil as his malevolent brother,
but even if he only intended to permanently shut Max down and reclaim his processing power, it was against Jordahk's will. If he and Wixom agreed on one thing, though, it was that Jordahk was not the AI's admin. Only the Bitlord himself could make that claim.

  The AI picked the worst time, likely on purpose, to endanger them all.

  “Just let me go, kid. Maybe he won't wipe me and you can figure something to restore me later.”

  Max's loyalty, proven now for two generations of admins, only spurred him on. But to what? Revenge? Justice? Jordahk's black-and-white thoughts were becoming muddled. Wixom's stated goal was to neutralize the flawed early creations of his master, something they accomplished against the evil AI that destroyed Max.

  Hopefully accomplished…

  Jordahk wanted more proof on that, but such things were hard to come by after an asteroid-cracking fusion explosion.

  “I don't know what you're doing, Jordahk,” Kord said, “but you should really wrap it up.” His voice echoed from beyond the forest with a far-off quality. “And your gauntlet's smoking.”

  Their real family name, Quext, had been made known to Jordahk. But knowing, and acting with the full weight of that knowledge were two different things. Thule-Riss Quext, supposedly his grandsire, was arguably the most powerful Sojourner who ever lived. A member of the legendary group of five known as the Khromas.

  “Think about it, Wixom. Do you really want to make an enemy of my line?” He was playing a gambit. Wixom could act however he pleased because, one, he had insufficient restraints. And two, no one could stop him. Jordahk attempted to put a little ice in his voice. “I'm not the same person I was two years ago.”

  The trees continued to press with no discernible difference, yet he felt a hint of hesitation. How he sensed such things was unknown, but it gave him hope. He might not have time for a fight to the bitter end, but if he could become more of a threat than the belt…

  He was deep within Wixom, a place he might never be able to access again if Max was uprooted. The energy from the armor, a powerful tool within the confines of this compy, required finesse to be wielded.