by Garon Whited
At any rate, now I’m going to go enchant some magic-sensitivity into some cameras for Diogenes. He’s infinitely patient, of course, but part of his programming apparently includes an algorithm to increase his level of snarkiness the longer I put something off. I’m not sure I like it, but it is a good way to keep me from goofing off for too long.
Apocalyptica, Thursday, May 19th, Year 1
I built some enchanted power conduits out of orichalcum wire. With some ruthenium-based transformers in them, the magical energy produced is fed directly into the gate enchantment, further supplementing the wire in the gate, itself. Diogenes is continuing to experiment with ever-more efficient variations, of course, but an unpowered gate is nothing more than a piece of modern art. A ruthenium core with orichalcum wire seems to be our best material combination for an electromagical transformer, but the shape, number of wire turns, volts, amps, and so on are all variables to be tested.
Unfortunately, unless you’re a dedicated thaumatologist, this sort of thing is boring. I was hardly surprised when Mary announced she wanted to go out to eat. Diogenes offered to let her eat an elf.
Mary says they’re delicious. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
On the other hand, what she really wanted to do was hunt something, not just snack. Diogenes assured us there were a number of large predators available.
“Like what?” Mary asked, eagerly.
That’s when I realized she wasn’t just hungry. She was bored. I can’t say I blame her. The Dean of Knives has been extremely patient with my nerdy emotional therapy, but there’s only so much magical shop class an international jewel thief vampire wizard can take. Yeah, hunting something large, predatory, and troublesome seemed prudent. I went with it.
“There are a variety of possibilities,” one of Diogenes’ floating drones said. “All of them bear some resemblance to pre-apocalypse life forms. The most troublesome species at present is probably a mutated elephant.”
“Elephant?” I asked. “Descendants from zoo escapees?”
“I presume so, based on incomplete information, but the presumption is a logical one.”
“Mutated how?” Mary wanted to know.
“Observed adult specimens stand between ten and thirteen feet at the shoulder. Their skull structure appears to be derivative of the Asian elephant with a high, bony dome. Their feet are adapted with thick claws, which they use for digging. Their tusks are clearly weapons, with sharp inside edges and pointed ends. Unlike an elephant, these tusks are extremely hard and durable, like horns, rather than teeth. Their eyes are placed slightly more forward, under heavy ridges of bone, and their vision is excellent in both normal and dim lighting conditions. They are aggressive, omnivorous, and have begun encroachment into the territory previously dominated by a large ant population.”
“I’m an ecological disaster,” I muttered.
“Hush, you,” Mary chided. “You didn’t know. Go on, Diogenes.”
“Most of the observed specimens have at least some sections of hardened hide, similar in some respects to scales, acting as armor plates. These appear to develop with age, making older specimens better protected than younger ones. Their tactics display a reasonable degree of intelligence. They appear to communicate using infrasonic sound.”
“How do their tactics show intelligence?”
“In initial encounters, they demonstrated a complete lack of caution when trampling robot scouts. After damage to their feet and some electrical shocks, they now attempt to tip over tracked robots before crushing them. They have also demonstrated the ability to use large rocks and heavy branches as bashing weapons. When they encounter combat robots, they do not attempt to trample, choosing instead to throw rocks, wield a crushing weapon, or retreat. Even flying drones have been knocked out of the sky by hurled missiles.”
“How do they throw rocks?”
“They pick up a rock, curl it in their trunks as though rolling the trunk around the rock. When the trunk unrolls, it does so with great force, propelling the rock at high speed. They are reasonably accurate and capable of damaging current models of combat robots at short range.”
“That doesn’t sound like a normal elephant trunk,” Mary observed.
“We hypothesize these are multi-generational descendants from mutated stock,” Diogenes reminded her.
“I see. And do they travel alone, or…?”
“Their social groupings are indeterminate due to a lack of observation. I have encountered them in what I presume are family groups, usually ranging from two to six. If there are more than two adults, they are typically one male and multiple females.”
“Good to know. And these are your most pressing problem in the life-form department?”
“Yes, Mary.”
“Where can we find some?”
“I can dispatch high-altitude reconnaissance drones to hunt for some, if you wish. It will take time, however.”
“Okay. I can wait.”
“Drones dispatched. What else can I do for you?”
“Got any more elves?”
“Yes, but my delivery schedule requires me to keep at least three on hand and ready for Karvalen. You may have one more.”
“Spoilsport.”
“You don’t want to spoil your dinner,” Diogenes chided.
“Oh, thanks, Mom!”
“Hang on,” I interrupted. “You can keep three elves on hand?”
“I have constructed additional storage for clones. While growing a clone is still limited to the refurbished facilities, placing a clone in cryogenic stasis requires less sophisticated equipment.”
“Frozen food!” Mary declared, clapping her hands.
“Pretty much,” I agreed. “I’ll guess it takes more than a microwave oven to prepare them?”
“Only if they are to be shipped to Karvalen,” Diogenes replied. “To revive one fully requires twenty-eight hours. Preparing one for dinner takes approximately twenty-two minutes.”
“We shouldn’t waste them,” I decided. “Time differentials being what they are—unpredictable—we may need several all in a rush, someday.”
“Very good, Professor. Shall I begin production of blood independently of clones?”
Mary turned to me. I gave it serious thought. Was there a downside to growing blood? If Diogenes had the resources to grow actual blood—clones tapped for donation, or blood-producing organs in a vat—it could work.
“We’ll try it, sure. We need blood like we need protein, vitality from living things for our spiritual carbohydrates, and, periodically, a soul—I’m not sure what the equivalent is.”
“Vitamins, maybe,” Mary suggested.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure you starve to death if you don’t get your vitamins.”
“You do when you don’t get any of them.”
“Good point. Okay. Diogenes, are we talking about cultured blood from cloned tissues, or are we talking about actual clones being tapped like kegs?”
“For small-scale production, I would recommend kegs. If you would prefer to sink to the bottom of a pool of blood, I suggest tissue-culture cloning.”
“How about we make a small batch of the tissue-culture cloning? Just to make sure it’s as edible as we think it will be? If Mary and I both like it, then we can decide.”
“I am setting it up now, Professor. Do you have a preferred blood type?”
“Well, Bloody Mary?”
“Hey, I’m a simple girl. I—”
“The hell you are.”
“—like all types,” she finished, and stuck her tongue out at me. “Lucky for you.”
“Fair point.”
“I’d also like to try the blood substitute stuff.”
“I doubt it’s edible, but sure. We might as well check. Diogenes?”
“I shall prepare some snacks, Professor.”
“Thank you for all your help.”
“Think nothing of it, Professor. I am overjoyed at the prospect of complex problems and const
ant work.”
I had to think about that. He said it in the perfect tone to be sincere, but the way he phrased it…
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?’
“Of course, Professor. Is this where I shout ‘gotcha’?”
“Yes, Diogenes,” Mary told him. “But he’s catching on.”
“He does that. Eventually.”
They have a point, Boss.
“Outnumbered. That’s what I am,” I grumped. “Fine. Mary, do you still want to go kill some hostile life-forms?”
“Yes, please!”
“Found anything, Diogenes?”
“Yes, but they are not moving. Based on body temperature, respiration, and heart rate, I would say they are asleep.”
“Are they… what’s the opposite of nocturnal?”
“Diurnal, or ‘day-dwelling.’ They have attacked robots at night, however.”
I traded looks with Mary.
“How about we act as a reaction force?” I suggested. “Next time they do something awful to a robot, we go out and kill something. Is that suitably non-boring?”
“I can live with it. But what, oh what shall I do for excitement until then?” She clapped one hand to her chest and laid the back of the other against her forehead in a histrionic gesture.
“Depends. What would you like to do?”
“You really are dense, aren’t you?”
“I don’t understand.”
With a heavy sigh, she took my hand and led me back to our quarters. Specifically, the bedroom.
Ah. Sometimes, I am dense.
Apocalyptica, Saturday, May 21st, Year 1
Killing a mutant elephant isn’t as hard as it sounds. The things you have to watch out for are the sweep of the tusks—they can decapitate a person or a vampire, which tends to end the fight—and for the trample, especially if it knocks you down and flattens your head. Crushing a vampire’s head into paste is, presumably, equivalent to decapitation. I’ve killed a number of experimental vampires and anything closely resembling decapitation is pretty much final.
I wonder. Does a giant tusk through the heart count as being staked through the heart? I still haven’t gotten around to testing wooden stakes, much less anything else.
On the other hand, when three tons of foot pushes your nose out the back of your head, I think we can call it a decapitation.
We decided against armor. The majority of our potential problems would be blunt-force trauma and compression. While armor might help against cannonball rocks, it isn’t too good against being picked up and slammed into trees. I ought to know. And then there’s the whole being stepped on thing. Speed and mobility seemed much more important than durability. Not getting hit sometimes wins out over resisting the hits.
Diogenes offered us a ride on a tracked combat robot, but I declined. Hanging on to the outside of a small tank while its electic motors whirred through the countryside didn’t seem much fun to me. He promised to build us better transportation.
Which, of course, reminded me how much I miss Bronze. He didn’t say he would build us vehicles now that she was gone, but that’s what my heart heard.
Mary insisted on playing shadow-tag as we ran through the wilderness outside Diogenes’ defensive zone. She’s much better at it than I am, being lighter and much more graceful. I surprised her with my tendrils-through-the-feet trick, though, when I cornered around a tree, made a complete circle, and tagged her from behind.
Final score: Mary three, Eric one. She’s agile and learns quickly.
Our game was cut short when three elephants came to investigate. Through our headset communicators, Diogenes’ indicated these were the elephants he was tracking. I doubt they could see the drone he used; it was very high up and changed color to camouflage itself.
The lead elephant trumpeted at us. Mary and I stopped fooling around and faced them.
“You want one?” Mary asked.
“I’m not in the mood for killing. You go ahead. I’ll watch.”
“Suit yourself.”
Sometimes I wonder about Mary. How did she manage to keep a low profile—a relatively low profile—in a postmodern Earth? She seems to enjoy the more primitive side of things a little too much. Is it all part of being a thrill-seeking adrenalin junkie? Or do I misjudge her? Maybe she only indulges these urges to violence because she knows it’s safe to do so—no societal repercussions will follow from her showing off. Here, in Apocalyptica, or in Karvalen, nobody’s going to point and scream and call the cops.
If she gets too used to this, she may never blend in well in “civilized” societies again. I hope this is simply her version of a vacation.
The lead elephant saw her coming in the moonlight. It wasn’t hard. We were in a lightly-wooded, somewhat rocky area, and we saw them across a large stretch of wild grass. Mary sprinted forward, accelerating like a cheetah. The leader lowered its head, raised its trunk, and prepared to sweep those tusks at her, to impale or cut, depending on how the tusk hit. Mary ducked low and slid between its front legs as though stealing home plate. The elephant lowered its head suddenly, trying to look down and see her. Mary planted a foot to stop her slide, popped semi-upright, stuck two knives into the underside of the elephant, and ran with it—straight out between the back legs, dragging blades the whole way.
Its guts did not fall out. I half-expected them to. The cuts were several inches deep and ran most of the length of the body. Steaming blood poured out and the beast screamed—a low-frequency bellow that made my innards quiver a hundred feet away. It remained upright, even turning to face its adversary, sweeping tusks at her and bellowing.
Mary, of course, was already well beyond the sweep of the tusks. The other two, however, picked up nearby rocks—one the size of a baseball, the other the size of a bowling ball. I jabbed the one with the larger rock, using tendrils. It made a grunting noise and turned around, looking for whatever stung it. The other one uncurled its trunk like a whip snapping and fired its rock much faster than I would have thought possible.
Mary was in full-speed mode, though. She moved slightly aside and allowed the rock to go cracking and snapping through underbrush behind her. She turned on her original target as it, too, reached for a rock.
She charged, bounced up on a tusk and planted a foot on it. She shoved hard, forcing it down as she propelled herself over, behind the wounded elephant’s head. She landed on all fours, facing backward, and stabbed with both knives, driving one in, pulling herself along the spine toward the thing’s rear, stabbing with the other, and working her way along. All of this was at incredible speed. By the time she reached the tail and flipped off the thing, it had barely started another agonized bellow.
It’s more than a little creepy to watch. Is that what I look like when I’m going all-out monster-mode? It’s a wonder more people don’t simply faint at the sight of me.
Once she hit the ground behind her victim, she spun in place, hacking with both blades in a scissor motion at the back of one knee. The leg collapsed and the beast started to topple. Mary stepped away from it, a savage grin on her face
The other two—both now holding rocks curled for throwing—held their fire while Mary was close to their leader. When she moved away from it to let it fall, they launched their stones. Mary obviously anticipated them, in motion almost before the elephants finished throwing. Their rocks shattered on one of the rocky outcrops of the region, missing her completely.
Mary went back over the fallen one, climbing with her knives around the barrel of its torso. She dragged two great gashes between its ribs as she went down the far side, between the front and back legs. A bloody mist spewed outward as a lung vented through the wounds. I didn’t see Mary for a moment, hidden as she was by the thrashing bulk of the beast. A moment later I caught movement beyond as she used the wounded elephant as cover to retreat into the tree-shadows. The other two grabbed fresh rocks and moved to stand beside each other, facing opposite directions.
I didn’t
like that behavior. It smacked entirely too much of real intelligence. They should have either charged after her, moved up to examine the fallen one, or run away. Up until now, animals might have learned about robots simply by being shocked, zapped, and punctured. But adopting a defensive stance?
Sneaking up on them wasn’t going to happen. Getting close enough to run tendrils over them was another story. I did so, using a boulder as cover. Were they intelligent? As intelligent as whales or dolphins? Or intelligent as people? I felt around in their spirits, trying to gauge them. Their vitality was impressive, of course, as any huge creature usually is. But there was also a deeper layer to them, rather than just an animal force. It reminded me of… whales or dolphins? Something like that.
Firebrand?
Our turn?
Not exactly. Can you talk to these things? I could try to put together a translation spell, but it’s a low-magic world…
Firebrand sighed in to my mind.
Boss, have I ever mentioned I like killing things?
It’s come up in conversation.
Mary reappeared, provoking one of the defensive elephants. It launched its rock and she dodged it. While it reloaded, she ran past the downed and gasping elephant, opening a couple of deep gashes in the neck region as she flipped over it. That let out a lot of blood; she hit an artery. She also underestimated the speed at which these things could turn. The second defending elephant fired its rock at her in mid-flip, knocking her down.
The pair of them galloped toward her to trample her, but she rolled with the impact and sprinted away. The damage was to one arm and her ribcage, not her legs.
They’re too far away now, Boss.
I guess I’ll just have to subdue them.
How about we finish the wounded one, kill one of the remaining ones, and subdue the last one?
You really want to?
I would like to kill something, if it’s not too much trouble. And lately you haven’t been killing anything.
