The URANUS Code (Citadel World Book #1)

by Kir Lukovkin

  Croesus looked at Rick’s bruise, which had taken on a noble purple hue with great sympathy.

  “Those barbarians are strong as hell!”

  “Honored Warden, it’s not quite like that…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Croesus cut him short. “Have a seat.”

  They lowered themselves into comfortable armchairs. The secretary girl poured them a glass of a crimson drink each. Croesus immediately downed half of his. Rick carefully tasted it. The drink was tasty and spicy, burning his tongue a little.

  “Don’t be shy,” the Warden encouraged. “Listen, Rick. Apart from expressing my gratitude, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you…”

  Rick carefully placed the glass back on the table. He was afraid to look Croesus in the eye. It seemed to him that the Warden would immediately find out the truth of what happened. If their eyes met, there would be no getting away from it. What if he knew already?

  “It is about our great Commune,” Croesus put on a concerned expression. “The issue is rather serious, which is why only a few should know of it. Only two or three young people know about this, the ones who are the best and the most worthy. You showed yourself well, and I think you also have the right to know.”

  Rick listened respectfully.

  “But you must promise that our conversation shall not go beyond these walls.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “The Commune is fading away. The fire that was lit by the Machine God in the Temple of Technology in ancient times has nearly burnt out. Our priests piously pray to our God every day so that he might blow upon the flame and make it burn harder, but he is still deaf to our prayers. This is why we are forced to limit the use of heat and only use the sacred fire for the most necessary things—for the farm, because our harvest depends on it and for illumination, because we would be blind without light. That is the state of things. Do you understand?”

  Rick nodded.

  “Good. The barbarians you caught in the north wing yesterday are not sneaking around here for nothing. Those beasts are planning something. So far, I can’t beat anything useful out of them, apart from the fact that they were crawling downwards for some reason. I don’t understand it!”

  Croesus spread his hands in dismay.

  “But they will talk sooner or later. I think I have discovered their weaknesses…”

  It seemed that the Warden had forgotten about Rick, lost in his own thoughts and moving his lips, with his eyes straining in their sockets. This lasted for about a minute. Then, Croesus came to and continued, seemingly unperturbed.

  “Basically, they have some extremely important information. It might be that they have part of the holy fire, or they know where this fire is. That is the key to saving the Commune. It will help us to keep going. It's very important!”

  “This is why I have decided to organize an expedition to the outer limits of the Expanse. Only the strongest and the bravest will be part of the expeditionary force. We don't just need experienced adult warriors, we also need those like you, who are young, energetic, and capable of swift action. The task of the force will be searching for the holy fire, or at least for the fuel it needs. Everything that we will need and everything that will be good for the Commune. Do you agree to join the expedition?”

  The question stunned Rick.

  “I don't know... I need to think about it.”

  “We don't have much time to think. The altar of the Machine God displayed a new symbol yesterday. This is a worrying sign.”

  Rick had seen that symbol. It looked like a “4” with a “%” symbol on the right. Before that, it looked like a “5” followed by the same symbol. Croesus narrowed his eyes. It seemed that he understood Rick's hesitation in his own way.

  “You have a sister, don't you? How old is she, eight? That means that she is on level eight. I bet it's not so good with light and heating there. Probably the food isn't that good either. I think that her situation could be changed somehow.”

  “Warden, you shouldn't... We are completely satisfied.”

  “All right,” Croesus said. “Think, but don't take too long, as we really don't have much time. I am only selecting the best people for the expedition, those who have proven their ability to handle physical trials and the strength of their spirit. Those that can resist heresy.”

  He glanced at Rick when he said these words.

  “Heresy roams through the Commune. It crawls around like a worm. That's understandable. The weak cannot take it, because their faith is untrue and they only care about filling their bellies. This is why they make up all sorts of stories when they're hungry and cause unrest among the people. They corrupt the youth. I remember, there was one that ambled around the bottom level and shouted that we are inside the gut of some beast and that this beast swims around in a gigantic chalice of water, and that this chalice is the universe. He was going around and saying that it's time to get out. Can you imagine it? Inconceivable stupidity!”

  Croesus laughed. Rick smiled politely.

  “And what of these barbarians? It's obvious that they are pagans. They are dark lost souls that live in the darkness of the Expanse. But if you accept even part of their ramblings as truth, you could go insane. If you join the expedition, it's possible that you will come across tribes of this kind. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”

  “Of course, honored Warden.”

  “You must be strong of body and mind. You should not allow heresy to take you from the true path. There is the Machine God, the Commune and the Expanse. Such is the order of things. And our conversation is no accident, as I'm sure you understand. Only the best get to be here.”

  Croesus rose from his armchair and Rick hurriedly got up after him.

  “In time,” added the Warden, “once you show yourself well, I will reveal certain secrets to you.”

  “What sorts of secrets?”

  Croesus answered with a vague wave of his hand.

  “You shall see. Well, then, we're done. Thank you for your time. I will be waiting for your decision here at the same time tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Warden.”

  Croesus looked over Rick.

  “You are just like your father. Just as serious, and always in concentration. Are you surprised? I knew him, he was an excellent brother of the Commune. However, he went to meet the Machine God way too soon, just like many others. By the way, he would have accepted my offer. Well, then, see you tomorrow!”

  Rick felt as if he was walking through a thick fog as he left the Warden's office. He couldn't breathe. It seemed that all the air had suddenly been pumped out of the space surrounding him. The secretary girl smiled vacantly at him and left the room. Rick stood around for a while, trying to get his thoughts together, but they kept coming apart and it was impossible to concentrate on anything. His eyes fell on the plate of cookies again. This time, he was no longer shy about it—he stuffed them into his pockets and even gathered up the crumbs in his hand. For Aurora.

  6

  THE CEREMONIAL execution took place without the Warden this time around. His role was filled by one of the priests, a fat, doughy faced man who was escorted by several patrolmen to the Porch exit, followed by a gaggle of onlookers that was mostly composed of children and the disabled, those who could not work. The Porch was what they called the corridor that circled the perimeter of the sector. Part of its roof had once been transparent, but was now covered with filth and mold. If it was not for the dirt, the opposite wall of an empty sector of the Expanse could be seen, which was separated from the Commune by a chasm. The uninhabited sector was only connected to the Commune by passageways that were crisscrossed by minor and major circular corridors.

  Part of the Porch had collapsed. The walls of the corridor had been breached and bent inwards with some terrible force. A dozen men could walk abreast through the resulting hole if they held hands. The opposite wall of the Expanse could be easily seen from there, covered with dark spots and stains. The escort
stopped by the gap. The priest stepped forward and cleared his throat, coughing loudly. Then, he took the Holy Writ and a censer made out of a large gear tied to a rope out of his robes. While he was busy with his preparations, the patrolmen lined up the condemned men along the wall. The prisoners looked pathetic—beaten, disheveled and barely able to stand.

  The priest nodded at the patrolmen. They stood still.

  “In the name of the great Machine God!” the priest began. He paused, casting an intense gaze over those present, and then continued.

  “We have gathered here today to perform an act of justice. The sentence shall be read. The Commission has sentenced these criminals to the supreme penalty for a particularly serious crime—heresy against the teachings of the Commune. They committed this grave sin deliberately, congnizantly and with evil intent. They fully understood the dangers of their profane views, but these heretics still continued to sow discord amongst the people of the Commune and try to sow division among good brothers and sisters! An atrocious transgression! A vile sin!”

  The priest gathered more air into his lungs.

  “The Commission has carefully examined each of the crimes committed. All the mitigating and aggravating circumstances were taken into account and the worth of every fact has been carefully considered. The Commission based its findings only on truth, fairness and the laws of God. Even though the crimes were severe, we have tried to be as merciful as possible. Condemned Brother Peter!”

  The guards grabbed a graying man by the arms and dragged him up to the priest.

  “A night shift worker of the thirty-second level, accused of the organization and preparation of a rebellion, which means he is a heretic against the god-given power of the Warden. Using his position at work, this man prepared weapons and made a plan to bring down the Committee. He conspired with six workers and planned to capture the patrolmen of the level so that he could establish control over the whole level using the batons he took from them. He insolently and impudently stated that the Committee holds back food, heating and light from the brothers and sisters. He blasphemed against the great Machine God, personally insulted Warden Croesus and cursed the Commune. This man was apprehended thanks to the vigilant report of Brother August. Having studied the case materials and interrogated the witnesses and co-conspirators, the Committee has found Brother Peter guilty of the crime that he committed and considers him to be a heretic and a rebel, sentenced to oblivion in the Chasm. Once read, the sentence is to be carried out immediately!”

  The priest stepped back with a surprising nimbleness. The guards dragged the condemned man to the edge of the Porch.

  The one legged, crippled man standing next to Rick whispered to the man next to him, “He's going to squeal now! They always squeal like that, it's hilarious!”

  When the patrolmen brought the condemned man to the very edge of the precipice, he seemed to snap out of a nightmare and awaken, making futile attempts to break free and shouting, “I'm begging you! I have a wife and children! They will cut their rations! Please!”

  The priest nodded at the guards and they pushed the condemned man hard in the back. He lost his footing, slipped and made one last hopeless attempt to grab at a protruding piece of metal. A patrolman struck his hand, and the man fell with into the chasm with a desperate scream. The howling of the wind quickly carried away the retreating sound of his cries.

  “In the name of the Machine God,” intoned the priest and made a ritual pass with the censer. “Next, Sister Edith.”

  The patrol brought a woman with an angular face and large dark eyes to him.

  “A worker of the cereal warehouse of the twenty-ninth level, accused of the theft of valuable cereals which she secretly carried through the check-point, stored in her living quarters and consumed in addition to the lawfully permitted ration. She stole over two bags of grain and half a bag of rye, by which she committed an act insulting the Commune, took away from her brothers and sisters and thus profaned the name of the Machine God. The Committee has studied the case of this sister, and considers her to be guilty of the crime she committed. Taking her heartfelt confession and contrition into account, the Committee has decided to be merciful and sentences Edith to a year of penal fertilizer processing labor on half rations. Be on your way, and sin no more.”

  The patrolmen untied the woman's hands and let her go. The priest pompously swung his censer and looked at the three remaining barbarians who had been recently caught by the northern Patrol.

  “The next criminals are not people of the Commune. They were caught at the scene of their crime and caught red-handed as harmful enemy infiltrators. They had weapons, cunning devices and rolls of demonic writings that profane the Machine God upon them. They ardently and firmly believe in the greatest heresy, that denies the existence of god and twist the face of creation. Moreover, they tried to malevolently corrupt the Patrol and the priests into their foul ways, including myself. They do not consider their heresy a sin and they do not repent before the face of the law and the Holy Writ...”

  “Enough!” exclaimed the hulking barbarian that Rick already knew. “How long can you keep talking...”

  One of the guards immediately stung him under his ribs with a bolt of electricity. The barbarian growled some unfamiliar curse.

  The priest stared at him wildly, gulped, and hurriedly continued.

  “The Committee has studied the case of these three barbarians from the outer Expanse, listened to their statements and based on the facts in their possession considers them to be heretics and schismatics that profane the glorious name of the Machine God by their very existence. Considering the malicious character and the danger posed by their heresy, as well as their conviction in their diabolical views, the court finds no reason to reduce their punishment and sentences the barbarians to oblivion in the chasm. The sentence is to be carried out in stages. The first heretic will be executed today, the second one tomorrow and the third the day after. This decision was made to bolster the understanding and cognizance of their fate by the criminals. Carry out the sentence!”

  “He,” the priest pointed at the large barbarian, “will be the first.”

  Five patrolmen immediately grabbed the prisoner, hindering each other more than helping. There was a tangle of bodies. Rick carefully watched the other barbarians—this was the reason he was posted here. The imprisoned barbarian girl looked at him in desperation. Her lips silently mouthed some word. Rick answered with a barely perceptible shake of his head.

  “Throw him in there!” the one-legged cripple exclaimed happily, as he stood among the onlookers shaking his crutch.

  The barbarian was strong—he was a whole head higher than the others, had broader and stronger shoulders and he resisted desperately. However, even though he tried to fight he was still dragged to the edge of the Porch.

  “Stop!” shouted the second barbarian, a bearded man. “Behave like humans and stop this madness!”

  The guard immediately rewarded him with a backhand across the mouth. Tears started to stream down the cheeks of the female prisoner. But Rick understood that those were tears of hopelessness, not of pity, and that she was ready to throw herself into the fight at any moment.

  The priest signaled the guards and asked the two barbarians, “Are you going to talk, or not?”

  “We have nothing more to say! We don't know anything!”

  The priest made a disappointed grimace and nodded to the executioners. The barbarian howled like the blare of the horn that Rick heard when there was a fire in their sector. In a final, desperate attempt to escape, the barbarian tore through his bonds and knocked down one of the patrolmen with a punch, but the other four pushed him back towards the edge, as the barbarian continued to howl loudly. There was no hint of fear in his screams—only rage. He balanced on the edge for a seemingly endless moment and then grabbed the nearest patrolman and pulled him towards himself. They both collapsed into the chasm. The guard screeched like a dying animal. The patrolmen leaped towards t
he edge, trying to make out the details, but Mother Darkness had already consumed its prey.

  “Scum!” the barbarian man shouted. “Disgusting pagan savages! Why?”

  He kept shouting, and the girl kept crying all along the way to the prison level, while Rick escorted them together with the other patrolmen and did not dare to steal a glance into the eyes of the prisoners, feeling as bad as he had not felt since his mother's death from stomach fever.

  He approached Ivon.

  “I'm feeling sick. I'm no warrior today. Put me on a guard post somewhere.”

  Ivon understood everything.

  “Go to the lesser circular. I'll tell the man on duty.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey,” Ivon waited until there was no one nearby and quietly said, “You know what I like most about the external Patrol? That you don't see the sort of shit that we saw today.”

  “I think I agree with you, commander.”

  “Oh, I also just remembered something. We were once walking along the Porch towards the Chorda. We stood around there, and we were about to turn back, when a man flew down from above. He was there for the blink of an eye and then fell further down. Funny, isn't it?”

  Ivon laughed.