Beware of Light (Dark Stars Book 1)

by Alex Kirko

  She fell on Moira.

  It didn’t take long to get through the ash to the meat underneath.

  15

  Healing through Fire

  “Nat, did you contact the base?” Blake asked. “Ten minutes to the city.”

  “Aren’t you going to kill me?” asked Doctor Reeves. He yelped as Blake vaulted a boulder. “I think my ribs are broken . . .”

  Blake was carrying the man bridal style, and the rest of the team had formed up around them. They would have long since gotten to Seind if it weren’t for how fragile an unprotected the human body was.

  “If I wanted to kill you, Doctor, I already would have. What were those white mechs?”

  Nat said, “Drummond, I’ve sent the report. The orders are to get to the chamber and stay with the captive. They will bring in Katherine Lind to confirm whatever he says.” She paused and sent him the map of Seind evacuation routes. “We better avoid the roads marked red.”

  Reeves said, “Why would I tell you anything? As soon as you have no more use for me, I’m dead.”

  “Then keep yourself useful. I think that somebody on your side decided that the Kamarkvat Directive is just a guideline.” Blake shook his head. “The only law shared by all the colonies and passed down from Old Earth itself, and you idiots decided what? That it was like that ancient superstition about not liking your neighbor’s ox too much?”

  He did his best to keep his passenger comfortable, but the ground was uneven, and he feared that by the end of the trip Reeves might get a concussion in addition to whatever was broken and bruised. The doctor clutched at Blake’s arms to steady himself and stared at the mech’s mask. Reeves said, “The Republic hasn’t broken the Directive. The machines can’t function without pilots.”

  Blake laughed. “Doctor, what do you specialize in?”

  “Regeneration and Ascension.”

  “And I specialize in artificial intelligence.”

  “You expect me to believe that a common—”

  “I don’t give a fuck. The Directive isn’t something you can skirt without consequences. It is clear: whenever an AI is active, it should be hooked up to a human brain, and that brain needs to be the one behind the controls. But the Republic is turning people into an emotional safeguard against AI malfunction with the computer in charge.”

  “It works,” said Reeves.

  Blake said, “Sure, as long as the AI is inexperienced, and the operator is healthy. But the operators are dying, aren’t they? I saw the surgery you were performing. You know what worked in the beginning too? Kamarkvat. Went fine for more than a year, in fact, and then humanity was almost destroyed. To toy with something like this, your Council must be either monsters or idiots.”

  That shut Reeves up.

  A silver arrow streaked across the cloudy sky turning to red-hot as it passed its apex. City shields flared in a burst of crimson.

  Upon impact, the projectile bloomed into a flower of white that faded to red, faded to yellow, and fell to the ground in a rain of black metal droplets. The city lights in the distance started dying just as the shield materialized again. Blake recognized the shade of red used to block out most of solar radiation. Seind wouldn’t be able to maintain it for long.

  “There is a call,” said Aileen. “Kyle Heatsworth.”

  “Put him through.”

  Blake sped up a little, ignoring the whimpers of discomfort from Reeves. A half-transparent man materialized in the top-right corner of his vision. Kyle Heatsworth was wearing a black turtleneck that was soaked through with sweat, and his hair looked like he had spent the last half an hour torturing it with his hands.

  “Nigel, get out of there,” said Heatsworth. “Get under the shields. Your people can’t fight worth shit under the sunlight. It will take the Council at least half an hour to change into attack formation and move out of the jungle. No, I still can’t reach Moira. Gods only know where that girl is. Yes, I’m speeding up the evacuation as much as I can. Stop asking questions. You’ve got your orders.” The man’s eyes moved from a point in the distance to meet Blake’s. “Mister Drummond, your time to join our esteemed military has come.”

  Blake glanced over his shoulder. “After seeing that army, I’m not sure how long a career it will be.”

  The Count ignored his jibe. He was already typing something at the terminal. “Well, today is your lucky day. Looks like everybody has decided to take a fucking vacation: I can’t reach my mayor, I can’t reach my head scientist, I can’t reach anyone. And Kate is the only one in Seind who knows jack about the regeneration chamber. Sam told me that you were good with Old Earth technology in Mortenton.”

  “I know enough to help fix it. And we have a Republic scientist here who said he specializes in this sort of thing.”

  “You got one? Great, bring him with you. Now, what I’m asking you to do is simple. You need to get to the address in the manufacturing district that I’ve sent to you. There you will find the regeneration chamber, which can’t be transported without repairs. You will finish calibrating the software, disassemble it, and get it out of the city using the route I’m about to give you. If you can’t repair it, you and Nat’s team will defend it with your lives. Is this clear?”

  “So the Federation is abandoning Seind,” Blake said.

  The man was already speaking to someone else. “No. We aren’t using the police vehicles—do whatever you want with them. Just make the fucking map and send it to Sam.” He turned back to Blake. “We aren’t abandoning anyone. Those assholes have brought Lance VII platforms with them. If they get any of these through the shields, they’ll be able to blow up any building except the City Hall in five seconds flat. The chamber is too valuable to lose, and it is vulnerable even with the shields I added.” Blake could see the barely contained fury on Heatsworth’s face. “Commander Nat Fisher. You will protect Mister Drummond as he leads the repairs. I hope my faith in all of you isn’t misplaced. Godspeed.”

  The transmission cut just as they were entering the city. The buildings were dead, the advertisements and street illumination had gone dark, and there were no cars on the deserted roads. Abandoned golden towers looked like cheap toys bought by parents with no taste.

  “Oh, thank all that is holy,” said Reeves. “A proper city road. I would kiss the ground, but I’m being kidnapped.”

  Another boom of thunder and a flare of light preceded a Lance VII trying the city shields again. Heatsworth was switching off the infrastructure to feed the shield generators. The machinery wouldn’t hold out long, but in that time the city would be protected both against artillery and against sunlight.

  A loud rumble started ahead of them and a little to the right. It sounded like a demolition crew chewing through the city at three buildings per minute. Blake wondered what the hell would make this kind of noise but decided he didn’t want to find out.

  He cornered to the right and headed for the manufacturing district.

  “The Crawlers are retreating,” said Nat. “They report that the Republic forces are deploying in a pincer formation. The enemy is keeping three artillery platforms in reserve.”

  Blake didn’t know what kind of plan Heatsworth had, but he hoped it was good.

  He didn’t need to check the address to see if this was the right place. There were twenty assassin mechs deployed around the squat building, and he would bet there were Ascended too.

  Kyle’s face flickered on again. He had the kind of expression used to mask the need to take a table fork and murder a guy. “Mayor Moira Heatsworth is dead,” he said. “There are moles within the city, and they are blowing up evacuation routes. I’m recalling some of the guards from around the regeneration chamber to help with pacifying the crowds.” The image switched off again.

  Something in Blake’s stomach flipped and he stumbled at a full run nearly dropping Reeves. The speed was enough for the scientist to faint from all the jostling about. Blake skidded to a stop in front of the building. Ten mechs nodded at them
and ran off. Blake could see more shapes emerging from the shadows and dashing away. Ascended.

  The city shields were at full power at this point, and what little sunlight got through them was crimson. The emergency lights switched on—they too were red.

  The doors opened at Blake’s approach, but he stopped before entering.

  He said, “Nat, depending on how bad this is, I will need up to an hour to reconnect the chamber. You need to buy us enough time.”

  “So it is us now?” she said. “Good. Go, we’ll hold the line. And Drummond, you still owe me your story.”

  He took a moment to look at all of them: naïve Melanie, overprotective Ryan, diminutive Irene, and the new guys. “I won’t die. If it looks like you can’t win, lead them deeper into the building. I’ll ask the remaining guards to set up an ambush.”

  The doors hissed shut behind him, and the building shields turned on with a faint buzz.

  “Powerful generators,” said Aileen. “At least the artillery won’t blow the building away with one hit. I have the city plans. Uploading recommended positions to the guard detail.”

  “The Republic can still disable everyone outside the building and move inside to destroy the generators,” said Blake. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

  The chamber was circular and looked much like the one at the Archives. He was surprised to see that the place still had power, considering how much of it regeneration chambers required. Not that he was complaining.

  Blake laid Reeves down in a corner and walked up to one of the three people in white coats that had been scurrying around the room.

  “What is the status?” he asked.

  “Are you Blake Drummond?” asked a man with the kind of glasses that made him look like a fish on land. “How are you even supposed—”

  He took a step toward the man, picked him up by the shoulders and shook him hard enough to hear his teeth clank. “Questions later,” he said. “What is the status? Have you reconnected the power supply?”

  The man-fish just blinked at him, and Blake let him fall to the floor. He turned to a grey-haired woman with a heavy golden stud in her left earlobe. “Status,” he repeated.

  She gulped. “We have power, but the software is all over the place. We fear that if we disconnect it now, it will scramble all the algorithms, and the chamber will be useless.”

  The man on the floor said, “We placed a wounded rabbit in it, and, well, rabbit stew came out.”

  Blake nodded, walked up to the console next to the upright cylinder of the regeneration chamber, and initiated start-up. “The chambers were designed for humans,” he said. “You won’t be able to fix it with anything other than a human.”

  He saw the scientists step away from the center of the room and sighed. “I’m not suggesting you volunteer—I brought someone.”

  It took him a moment to retrieve Reeves. Blake reached for the back of his left calf, and drew an ordinary metal knife—the only one among his inventory.

  The scientist chose this moment to wake up. “Hey, what are you—”

  Blake knocked Reeves unconscious with his left armored hand, stabbed him in the gut with the knife, opened the chamber doors, and stuffed the man inside.

  “Don’t worry, doctor. You will probably survive this and come out healthier than ever.” Blake turned to the scientists. “What are you three standing around for? You, fish-face. Monitor his vitals. You two, maintain the constant power supply. With the city shields working full-blast, it will be difficult, but you must not let it deviate more than one percent from the current level. We have more room for error than during Ascension, but not as much as usually, because we are calibrating.”

  He plugged the suit into the chamber. He and Aileen touched the interface gingerly, making sure not to disrupt anything sensitive. The AI inside connected to the operators and to Reeves and switched on the speakers. It said, “Subject is a human male, 72 years old. Piercing trauma to the stomach, damaged intestine and spine, brain trauma. Analyzing. Warning: fluctuations in power supply. Compensating.”

  Blake said, “Everyone, dial the energy down five percent. It looks like we need less than normal for this kind of a wound.”

  “Analysis complete. Regeneration will take one minute. Proceed?”

  He saw the system recalibrate itself as it learned from Reeves. This capsule had been made right before the mother planet had decided to abandon the colonies. As long as it was used for its intended purpose, it could fix itself.

  “Proceed,” he commanded.

  “Vitals normal,” said the bug-eyed guy. “Sir? How did you know how to calibrate it?”

  “Doctor Reeves here specializes in regeneration technology. I interrogated him on the way here.”

  The lights in the room dimmed, and the indicators on the web of power cables all flashed green.

  “Regeneration complete.”

  The doors opened, and Blake caught Reeves. The skin on the patient’s stomach was paler than the rest of his body, but he looked fine. The doctor blinked his eyes open. “What happened?” he asked.

  “You helped us repair the regeneration chamber using your genius. Congratulations.”

  He scanned the doctor to make sure the man didn’t have any weapons on him. They could probably use Reeves in the future if he survived this, but he could still be dangerous. Blake also didn’t see any implants that could connect to computers remotely.

  “Where are you taking me?” asked Reeves.

  “To this pillar.” Blake snapped a pair of manacles on his wrists and chained the Council scientist to a support beam. He turned and threw the keys to the grey-haired woman. “Do you have some adhesive tape here?”

  It took him a minute to tape the man’s mouth shut. “Sorry, Reeves, but you would only get in the way. Fish-eye, what the hell are you doing?”

  The man stopped, still clutching a wrench in his hand and looking like a nocturnal rodent caught in the spotlight. “Unbolting the chamber? We need to get it out of Seind, right?”

  Blake shook his head. “I was going to ask your name, but for that stunt you are staying a salmon. The chamber hasn’t been repaired yet. A stab wound is simple, a nano-bot injection could cure that. We would need a hundred more people like Reeves to finish calibrating it.”

  He could sense a spike of surprise followed by determination from Aileen. “So this is it,” she said.

  He laid a hand on the chamber’s surface. “Luckily for us, we have a man here with multiple organs slowly failing and with a half-fried nervous system. You three will do the same thing as last time: monitor the vitals and the electric current. Keep an eye on how much the chamber consumes.”

  The building shook. He asked, “Do you have a screen to see what’s going on outside? We need to check how long we have.”

  The third scientist that resembled a bespectacled stick insect walked up to one of the terminals and fiddled with it for a second. An image flickered on, painfully bright in the dark room.

  A wave of white mechs crashed into a group of Crawlers, breaking their formation. In a corner, a Butcher was fighting off five AI-piloted machines, and he was losing. A shell filled with molten metal flew by, piercing three buildings and smashing into something. Their room shook, and he got a pretty good idea where that something was.

  There was a roar and something bus-sized, eight-legged, green, and covered in poisonous spines landed among the white mechs and swatted a dozen of them aside with a swipe of its tail. Blake saw Samuel Gallows on top of the thing. Faint blue shields flickered around it, but he didn’t see a generator anywhere. Nat wasn’t there, and he hoped it was a good sign. Samuel did something, and the beast opened a mouth with three rows of serrated teeth and bit through two mechs, shields and all.

  “Right,” Blake said. “Looks like we have a couple minutes.”

  “Aileen, set the suit computer to pick me up and pump me full of stimulants after we are done.”

  “Blake, I—” She hesitated. “I guess
I’ll see you on the other side.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I remember. Together until the end. The mech is right here, so it shouldn’t be difficult for it to check. If I do die, the computer will destroy the suit along with you.”

  The scientists—or simply technicians—hesitated, and Blake realized that he was stalling too. He authorized the release, and the world went dark for a moment. In half a minute, seams opened across his suit’s surface, and the machine spit him out. Even the dim light hurt his eyes, and every step was agony that shot up his legs and spine. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. The building shook again, and he fell to one knee, rose, and pushed his shaking body into the chamber.

  “Good evening,” said the AI. “How may I serve you—scanning records, error, recovering backup—Master Cliffstone?”

  Blake chuckled. Putting crap like that into the system was just like them. “I require medical attention.”

  The chamber started filling with liquid. He heard someone say, “It’s not responding to our commands!”

  He said, “It’s fine, I can control it from inside.”

  The AI said, “Medical data corrupted. Recovering recent backups—error. Last backup made one thousand seven hundred and fifty-six years ago. May not match current biological data. Recover backup?”

  “Confirming recovering backup.” The yellow viscous liquid was now up to his chin.

  “Confirmed. Examining implants for compatibility.” Spikes jammed into his interface ports making tears squirt out of his eyes, but at least he was hearing the AI’s voice in his head now. “Compatibility confirmed. Removal unnecessary. Evaluating damage. Removing toxins. Analyzing tissue. Calculating age. Error.”

  “Bypass analysis stage as irrelevant,” he commanded.

  “Confirmed. Severe nerve degeneration, multiple hernias in the abdominal area, necrosis of heart tissue, kidney failure, liver cirrhosis—”