The Founder's Strain (The Age of Man Book 2)

by David Brush

  “Quit dragging your feet, you lazy bastard. I won’t have you keep the Dread Lord waiting.”

  The doctor stepped a little bit quicker, flexing his unrestrained wrists. “Have you ever heard the story of Icarus?”

  The guard grunted. “What in the hell is an icarus?”

  Nightrick looked back at the man with a frown. “Icarus is a name. It’s an old myth we used to tell back on Earth. The story is about a young man who uses a pair of crafted wings to fly away from an island he’d been imprisoned on. He’s told to keep his flight path level, not too high or too low, or the wings will fail him. The second he starts to fly though, excitement overtakes him and he soars up towards the sun.”

  “So what?”

  “Well, the heat from the sun melts the wax holding the wings together. Icarus keeps flapping his arms, but it doesn’t do him any good. He plummets out of the sky to his death. In the end, he lost himself in the wonder and glory of it all. For a shining moment he transcended what it meant to be human, and in doing so destroyed himself.”

  The guard remained silent, waiting a moment for the doctor to start up the winding stone staircase that led up to the very tip of the Spire. Nightrick climbed slowly, occasionally sparing a glance over at his old mentor, who walked effortlessly beside him.

  Dr. Karich flashed a small smile at his pupil. “Do you know what the point of that story really is, John?”

  “The point is that if you allow your ambition to run wild, it’ll drag you into oblivion.”

  The guard frowned. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

  “No one,” said Nightrick, rubbing his forehead. “I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

  Dr. Karich shook his head. “No, no. The point is that transcendence is an illusion. Icarus felt like he wasn’t human anymore, but the universe reminded him he was. We’re all immortal until we die. In those final moments we see the truth of things. There is no life without decay, no spring without the fall. You’ve spent the last century believing yourself immortal, and yet now, when you dash yourself against the rocks, you’ll die just like every other human being has since time immemorial. Go now, while the guard is distracted.”

  Nightrick looked down at the armored man on the step below him. As the guard raised his head, the doctor grabbed the bannister on both sides of the stairs and hoisted himself up, bringing his foot hard across his escort’s head. The man lost his footing and went crashing down the stairs as Nightrick quickly dropped back onto the stone and sprinted up the remaining steps. He shoved his way out of the stairwell, knocking the two guards waiting by the door out of his way as he dashed down the otherwise empty hall. Cold, grey stone was all that stood between him and the water below. Even as he burst through the wide archway, out onto the terrace, his mentor followed. At the far end of the platform, he climbed up onto one of the stone parapets overlooking the crashing shore below. He looked down into the swelling water that continued to roar up against the sharp rocks.

  “Your wings are melting, Icarus,” said Dr. Karich from the parapet beside him. “Fly now, away from your prison, and see how far your arms will take you.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I’m not ready to die.”

  “No one ever is. Don’t forget her words to you, John. Be strong now.”

  Behind the doctor, three guards ran out onto the terrace, trying desperately to reach him. Nightrick inhaled one last lungful of salty air, closed his eyes, and let gravity take him over the edge.

  The wind rushed up, blowing freely through his billowing coat as he descended. For a moment, he could almost swear that he had learned to fly too. He opened his eyes, watching the rocks race up towards him. Through the whipping wind he heard it, piercing the air like a sharp knife: the caw of the sphinx. Then came the jolt as his body connected with the other in midair. He felt the wings catch, slowing the pair down, but not enough to pull up. Tumbling, Nightrick caught the eye of Dr. Mudaw for a split second before they hit the surface. As the waves washed ashore, they brought water and blood with them.

  The construct rose up from the dusty Martian terrain, thick at its base and thinning towards the peak, piercing the sky like a spear. An endless stream of energy surged out of condensers and into the central tube, launching the stability beam out into space towards the center of the solar system. Karo ducked low in the cockpit of the engineering shuttle racing towards the structure, trying to see the top of the colossus.

  “It’s huge,” he said, leaning down just a bit more to get a wider view. “How did you build it? How does it work?”

  Governor Zuma smiled from the passenger seat. “We built it with a lot of help from the Borrrian Empire. And as for how it works, you’d have to ask one of the engineers. Science never was my strong suit.”

  “My dad told me that the borrrians were the only reason mankind survived the war,” said the boy, lowering his head. “He said they gave you weapons like the one that destroyed the camp.”

  “Yes,” said Jun from the pilot’s seat, fiddling with one of the instruments on the terminal in front of her. “Among other things.”

  The governor turned towards the boy with a small sigh. “Unfortunately, Karo, none of our races have risen above violence. One would hope that by the time a species reaches the ability to travel unrestricted through space, they would have evolved past fighting, but it almost seems as if the opposite is true.”

  “But why? We all fight and no one ever gains anything from it.”

  “Well, that’s a good question,” said the governor, ruffling his brow. “Humanity was given technology it wouldn’t have naturally discovered for a few centuries at least. We weren’t ready for it yet. That having been said though, we were already advanced enough to have surpassed fighting by that point, in theory, and yet violence raged on Earth. The truth is, the only reason that humanity united like it did was because we were attacked by an outside force. The archons of the United Empires of Earth would never have given up their autonomy and declared a sole emperor if it hadn’t been for the looming threat of extinction. So in our case, survival led to cohesion, but not peace. We’re willing to accept people that we once considered outsiders as long as someone even more foreign is knocking at the door. That’s one of the great irrationalities of the universe.

  “As for the Sphingian Empire, it’s a similar story. Your people were divided into warring clans well into your colonization of space. It wasn’t until you came into contact with the Borrrian Empire that your king was chosen to act as war chief. Same with the slugs. After contact with the sphinxes, their isolated hives coalesced under one queen.”

  The boy cawed, flexing his wings ever so slightly. “So everyone has always been fighting?”

  The governor nodded. “Sadly, yes. The truth is, the groups in each of our respective species that thrived were the strongest. Whoever had the best military became the most powerful faction, and when it came to war with an outside species, that was the group everyone turned to. Thus, the greatest warriors and their leaders came to power, and continued to propagate their views that might makes right. It’s evolution, Karo. The most powerful beat down the rest to rise, and then continue to feed the cycle. We might try to dress it up like we’ve left our barbarity in the caves we ascended from, but the fact of the matter is that we’re no different from the cave men who beat each other to death with sticks, save for the fact that we’ve now learned how to destroy on a galactic scale. Same bullshit, the stick is just bigger.”

  Karo sat back into his seat with a sullen look on his face. Governor Zuma turned to catch the boy’s eye again. “We’re going to bring Admiral Dorian to justice, Karo. You have my word. Now enough talk of war for one trip, we have other things to discuss. I know this isn’t how you wanted to leave Mars, but on the bright side, you’ll finally get to see your home world. Sphandaria is beautiful from what I hear.”

  “What I really wanted to see was Earth,” said the boy, subconsciously holding onto his armrest as he felt Jun arc the shuttle up, p
arallel with the stability beam.

  “Well then you’re in luck,” said Jun, sliding her right index finger along the console beside her. The windows in the shuttle darkened another shade. “We’re heading to Earth as we speak. This shuttle isn’t equipped with a warp drive, so we’ll need to get a more suitable ship. I’m sure that General Bismuth will be more than happy to help you get home.”

  “Mars was my home. I’ve never been to Sphandaria before.”

  The governor shifted in his seat. “You’ll love it. It’s a lot like Mars, just hotter.”

  “And better developed,” added Jun. “Don’t worry kid, when we get to Coren, I’ll show you around a little bit. It’s kind of a desert itself, but there are some nice places too. We’ll visit the woodlands around Juria. There’s no place in the universe more beautiful.”

  The small engineering craft pulled a touch closer to the stability beam.

  Jun swiped the console again, checking her distance from the discharge. “Ok, I already pinged the station and let them know we’re breaking orbit. We’re about as close as we can get to the beam without being atomized. We’ll be past Dorian’s ships in a moment.”

  The shuttle soared through the thin Martian atmosphere and out into the void beyond. The trio sat in silence, trying to ignore the fact that the only thing resting between them and instant annihilation was a powerful shield module and about an inch of space.

  “Hmm,” said Jun, leaning over a bit to get a closer look at the glowing terminal next to her. “That’s impossible.”

  “What?” said the governor, turning towards the display.

  “Well, according to this, the Titrant is locked into position a little ways out. What the hell would General Bismuth be doing out here?”

  “I don’t know, but it might be our lucky day. Let’s get over there.”

  Jun nodded, pulling up on the steering column. The ship arced off of the stability beam, hurtling out towards the dreadnought looming in the distance. As they approached, she fired off a series of boarding requests.

  “We’re all clear,” she said, looking at the flashing green affirmative. “Let’s put her down.”

  The engineering vessel soared into the open hangar of the dreadnought, setting down in a wide spot usually reserved for fighter craft.

  “Nice landing,” said Zuma, standing up to depart.

  “It’s not that hard when you’re flying a raindrop into a lake,” replied Jun, stepping down onto the landing ramp behind him. “Come on, Karo. I’m sure General Bismuth is going to want to meet you.”

  A small man in a grey officer’s uniform came walking quickly towards their shuttle as they finished disembarking. His already taut jaw seemed to clench even tighter as he swiped another salvo into the datacuff wrapped around his wrist. “Governor Zuma, my name is Captain Palladium. We spoke shortly before deployment. Do you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here? General Bismuth was expecting to meet with you in Terra Meridiani.”

  “Expecting to meet me? What was the intention of this meeting?”

  The captain frowned. “Why, to discuss the fire you had in the refugee camp. We were under the impression that you wanted to coordinate efforts between the Sixth Fleet and the Second.”

  “Captain, I didn’t summon you here and there hasn’t been a fire. Admiral Dorian glassed the camp from orbit and cut our intercolonial communication. We were on our way to Earth to warn Command. I need to speak with General Bismuth at once.”

  Captain Palladium paled. “Well I’m afraid that’s impossible. He departed for the colony an hour ago.”

  General Bismuth marched down the long, ornate hallway of the Terra Meridiani Capital Building’s sixth floor, flanked by his security detail. He looked down again at the bright red rug running beneath his feet.

  “Look at this shit,” he said, turning to the armored man walking beside him. “Who the hell does Zuma think he is, Mansa Musa? Why would a colonial administration building need oriental rugs?”

  The armored man stared straight ahead, almost as if he hadn’t heard the remark.

  “I forgot how fun the Shadow Guard is,” said Bismuth with a sigh. “I don’t know how Dr. Nightrick could stand all this silence. I used to let my security detail talk, you know?”

  The group walked on in silence, coming to a halt in front of the governor’s office. On either side of the doorway were two marble statues, rising up to meet the building’s visitors.

  “Oh come on,” said Bismuth, gesturing at the display. “Seriously?”

  “Sir,” said the guard at the forefront of the formation. “Security scans indicate the room is clear. Admiral Dorian and his guard are waiting within.”

  “Ah, so you do speak. You two with me then,” he said, gesturing at the foremost guards. “The rest of you, wait here.”

  Bismuth walked forward, causing the door to slide away before his advance. As his guards trailed in behind him, the door slid shut again. Admiral Dorian, who was sitting behind the governor’s desk in his pristine white suit, stood up to greet his guest. The medals pinned to his chest clanged against each other as he rose.

  “General Bismuth, welcome to Terra Meridiani.”

  Bismuth nodded. “Admiral Dorian. Where is Governor Zuma?”

  The admiral shrugged. “I have no idea to be totally honest with you. He took off sometime last night and he hasn’t been heard from since.”

  “Took off?” replied the general with a frown. “Why? He was the one who called for this meeting in the first place.”

  “Zuma is a weak man, I’m afraid. He’s never had the stomach for this sort of thing. He’s not a leader; he’s more of a glorified desk jockey if you ask me.”

  “Well, what of the camp? I only got a brief look coming in. I couldn’t tell what condition we were left with.”

  “See for yourself,” said the admiral, gesturing towards the window behind him. Off on the horizon, black smoke continued to billow up out of the crater left where the camp had been.

  “There’s nothing left of it. What kind of fire does damage like that?”

  “The kind produced by the Sixth Fleet,” said Dorian, drawing his handgun in a quick motion. The shots rang out from behind Bismuth as his two guards collapsed forward. The singed holes in the backs of their helmets gave off small wisps of grey as Admiral Dorian’s guards near the door lowered their weapons. In the hall, gunfire erupted. The sharp blasts continued for a moment, before giving way to silence once more. Bismuth’s hand raced for his own sidearm, but Dorian got the first shot off before he could even wrap his hand around the pistol. The slug tore through the general’s chest, knocking him down to his knees. He spit a thick glob of blood onto the carpet as he started to reach for his gun again.

  “I wouldn’t,” said the admiral, rounding the desk with the pistol up. “I really didn’t want it to end like this, Bismuth, but you didn’t leave me any choice. Your policies were going to destroy our species. I hope at least some part of you understands that.”

  Bismuth’s right hand shook, hovering just over his holster. His other arm had reflexively coiled up against his chest, applying what light pressure he could. Another long, thick strand of bloody spittle drooled out of his mouth and onto the carpet. “You can’t… you can’t cure the Plague with a war.”

  “No, General, I can’t,” said Dorian, raising the handgun up to Bismuth’s head. “But I can kill the sphinxes with one. That’s good enough for me.”

  The general’s head recoiled as the round slid through the front of his skull and back out the other side. His limp body fell over onto the rug, staining it in his own shade of red.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The faces were blurry, but he recognized them at once. Daniel and Janet Mercer sat on the carpeted floor of their living room with their boy, playing with the plastic dinosaurs that they’d bought him for his sixth birthday. James picked up the t-rex and roared, bringing its open mouth down on the triceratops his mother held.

  She s
miled, giving a dull cry in response before setting the piece on its side. “You got me.”

  James laughed, making a chomping sound as his toy feasted on the other one. “Mommy, why are there no more dinosaurs?”

  “Well, it’s because they’re extinct.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They all died when a big asteroid hit the Earth.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Will an astoid ever kill us?”

  Daniel ruffled the boy’s hair. “No, bud. Asteroids aren’t the problem anymore. It doesn’t really matter though; one day we’ll be gone too.”

  “Dan,” said the woman, her eyes narrowing. “He’s six.”

  “What? He needs to understand the way the world works,” said the man, looking back at his son. “Just remember that as long as you live, so do we. There’s nothing wrong with doing whatever it takes to survive, son.” The man’s datacuff chirped as a call came in. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped into the kitchen, talking in a soft voice.

  “What your dad means is that we love you, James, very much. We want you to be safe, no matter what. When you care about someone, sometimes you have to let them go, because it’s what’s best for them.”

  Daniel stepped back into the room. “Fox called. The rebels broke the line at Al-Tukar. He thinks they’re headed here.”

  Janet paled a touch, looking back towards her son. “James, how would you like to go visit Dunton again?”

  “Why, Mommy?”

  “Because you’ll be safer there,” she said, forcing the words out. “It’s just for a little while. We’ll come get you again after the army secures the city.”

  “But why? Why can’t you come too?”

  “Because we’re needed here. We have to help move our software, or the bad people will take it and do bad things with it. Do you understand?”