by R. E. Carr
“And I’m nothing,” Jenn sighed.
“No, Jenn! Please!” CALA said. “You may have started as a packet of data, but everything you have done since your inception was based upon your own developing consciousness—”
“You know, she’s right,” Eon added. “One could argue that any man can be reduced to a single moment and the choices that he makes.”
“Spare me the philosophical bullshit, Eon,” Jenn said. “You’re just as trapped in here as I am, wherever here is.”
“Actually, in this case, I’m just the copy now,” Eon said with a little grin. “I’ve always been in the back of your mind, trying to help.”
“And just how can you help?”
“Don’t you at least want to know how the story ends? How both our stories end?” Eon asked.
“I suppose I do,” Jenn said as she stared into the water. This time she saw her own twisted reflection looking back at her.
Rheak stared into the silvery wall of the stolen skiff. She blinked as a pair of brown eyes stared pleadingly back at her. “Oh no you don’t,” she whispered as she looked away. Instead she watched appreciatively as Kukulkan slit the throats of the guards on the landing pad. She made a point of driving her boot into the skull next to her before joining him by the door.
“You always loved that sound, didn’t you?” he asked as the entrance slid open.
“We are who we are, Serpent Lord,” she said. She picked up a pike as she walked inside, and the flickering sparks on the end immediately changed from blue to red. “And it seems like this body is finally becoming useful. Thank the Makers for nanomachines.”
The pair strolled casually into the glistening white halls of the Machidonian city. Time after time, little gray men with body armor and pikes would run toward the couple, and time after time silvery blood would spatter across the floor.
“This does remind me of happier times,” Rheak said as she impaled two guards with a single thrust. As her grin widened, Kukulkan’s face hardened. She pressed her hand against a panel until red hieroglyphs scrolled down the screen. “We have at least three more levels and twenty-five personnel to go through before we reach the central core of this facility, so we might as well enjoy ourselves. Oh, don’t tell me that you’ve grown soft in all your cycles trapped here with the rotting meat reactors . . .”
Kukulkan stormed past her and cut through another wave of grunts. He struck quickly, slicing each throat cleanly before moving to the next. Rheak stayed back and twirled her pike until the last one fell.
“We have three levels and nineteen personnel now,” she said. She poked her companion’s shoulder as she sauntered by. “And you have, haven’t you? You honestly care about these creatures.”
“We are designed to protect, to guide,” he said before opening the next door. Both raised a brow when they saw that, this time, the Machidonians had a cannon waiting for them. They had to flatten against the walls to avoid a searing wave of fire that shot between them.
“You were designed for that, perhaps. You and I both know that I was created for an entirely different purpose,” she called over the next blast of fire. “And fire? Seriously?”
“They seemed to have learned that I could ground electricity from this host’s last encounter with them,” Kukulkan sighed.
“You always were too quick to reveal your tricks, love,” she snapped before throwing her pike into the cannon’s barrel. The next time it tried to fire, it simply sputtered and jammed. Kukulkan used that moment to rush in and strike down the pilot.
“When in doubt, throw something pointy at it,” she said. “Also, I really need to upgrade this host.”
She ripped off the hem of her already-cropped shirt to wrap a makeshift bandage over the new blisters on her arm. Kukulkan moved to the next monitor and called up an image of clear stairs before opening the next door.
“Throw something pointy at it? Really, Rheak?”
“You were always the schemer, the one who had to overcomplicate things,” she sighed. “I have always preferred the simple, timeless approach.”
“Like pretending to be a god of Beasts?” Kukulkan asked.
“They lost their god. That wasn’t my fault,” she said. She kissed his cheek as she passed him by. He grabbed her hand.
“It was not my fault! I swear,” she whispered in his ear. “I have changed a little bit, you know. Don’t be so cross with me, love. It’s not like I don’t admire the Beasts. They also admire the simple joys in life—like poking things with sticks.”
“No. This can’t be happening,” Jenn said as she slumped against the bridge’s railing. The image of Rheak and Kukulkan faded back into murky water. “Why show me this, CALA?”
“I am sorry, Jenn, but I only have limited control now that Rheak has been downloaded into your consciousness. She is still assimilating your knowledge and experience . . .”
“Well, that should take all of a day,” Jenn muttered as she buried her face in her hands. “Then what? We just get assimilated too?”
“I am . . . unsure how to calculate this outcome, Jenn. I always knew that I would be dismantled, but at this moment, when I am certain that it is about to happen . . .”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t worse at my job. We could have slogged along for years together, trying to open the seals, but . . . But I just wanted to save Kei and the Beasts so badly. I just never thought—”
“It is the quest that shapes us,” Eon added as he watched the sky shift between shades of scarlet and lavender. “We choose the path to follow and eventually it consumes us.”
“You’re still here?” Jenn asked. “If you feed me a line about how you have always been a part of me, I will throw you in the Charles, so help me God.”
“Which god?” Eon said with a little laugh. Soon both of them dissolved into hysterical laughter. A helpless CALA could only watch.
Jenn leveled her stare at him at last. “So, are Kukulkan and Rheak like, a thing? I’m kind of getting the impression that they are a thing, which is awesome because I don’t remember the full legend of Kukulkan, apparently,” she said.
“Your god wasn’t the only one keeping secrets,” Eon said. “All I know is that, from the moment I first saw you, I was drawn to you. You saved me.”
“Now I just hope that we can save Kei. CALA, if I can see and hear Rheak, is there any way for her to hear me?”
“Unfortunately, we are no longer the dominant personality in this construct . . .”
“CALA, are you honestly telling me that you have lost your legendary powers of interruption?” Jenn asked.
CALA’s red eyes flickered as she paced along the sidewalk. She crouched between Jenn and Eon after a few moments.
“I am still capable of many base-level functions, yes. While Rheak has no desire to access me consciously, I can still transmit simple messages—subconscious, primal messages.”
“In English, CALA?”
“Emotions, Jenn. I can transfer an emotional response if it is straightforward or powerful enough. Especially considering her heightened, adrenaline-fueled state.”
“CALA, she needs to save Kei. Remember how we felt back in Jasturia, when we thought he was about to be stabbed by Ajero? Can you remember that?”
“I could never forget it, Jenn.”
Jenn took CALA’s hands. “Please, make her feel that. She has to save Kei,” Jenn begged. “We might not be real, but he is.”
Rheak stumbled as the gem on her forehead began to glow. She nearly toppled over the edge of a gangplank, but Kukulkan managed to grab her hand and yank her back just in time. She glared at the deep, sparkling pit of processors and capacitors stretching into an unknown depth below.
“Any race idiotic not to think of guard rails deserves to die,” she said before spitting into the abyss. Kukulkan jerked her ag
ainst his chest. She listened to his heart for a second before shoving him back toward the door. She then motioned all around her. “I’m not joking, darling. This setup makes no logical sense!”
“Machidonian grunts are calibrated for near-perfect balance,” Kukulkan said before sealing the door. “And the Probability Machine would only send expendable personnel to maintain the central core, so why waste the metal?”
Rheak rolled her eyes and strolled casually across the catwalk. On the other side, she was surrounded by monolithic towers of pulsing processing power. She watched Kukulkan slowly, carefully make his way next to her.
“You’re afraid of a little fall? You have an I/O device, don’t you?” Rheak asked.
Kukulkan remained silent as he flipped open a panel. Rheak slapped his hand away before he could connect.
“What have you done?” she asked. “The old Kukulkan would have ditched this flesh-form already and shut this system down, but you—you’ve been careful. You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
“I’ve changed, Rheak,” Kukulkan said as he flipped the panel open again.
“But we don’t change, not really,” she said, licking a bit of blood off her lip. “We reset. We are reloaded.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered how the mortals change? How they are capable of such great feats in such short spans of time?” Kukulkan asked.
“No, not really. Speaking of short spans of time, how long before all these Machine Men run into the mighty coalition of misfits?”
“The main forces should be engaging each other within the next four hours. Outlying skirmishes have already started.”
Rheak lunged at her companion and ripped his knife out of its sheath. It was his turn to stumble. She flipped around the blade to face him. He raised his hands slowly.
“Why are you afraid, lover?” she asked.
“Unique iteration solution,” he said softly.
“What?” she asked.
“I changed the rules, Rheak. I altered my programming so that I no longer reset upon a host termination. I have bound my subroutines to an organic form, and it requires a specialized decryption program to rebuild me periodically. I am born. I live—”
“And you can die, can’t you?” she asked.
“There is no impetus to change if there is no possibility that any particular moment could be your last,” he said. “If this host dies, there will never be another Kukulkan quite like this. I’ve kept a central repository of my code for centuries. My priests select portions to download into the new host. That host accumulates a lifetime of data that can be returned upon death and a new, different Kukulkan can be born.”
“You think that tainting yourself with a bunch of emotions and experiences from glorified apes somehow makes you better? Oh darling, what’s happened to you? Still, you will be reborn . . .”
She looked at the panel then, and her eyes widened. She shook her head and took a step back but kept the knife at the ready.
“You never cared about the Beasts or their silly war,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Who’s the liar now? These gray-skinned grunts have your code. Does that mean if I stab you now, before you connect to their system . . . ? Oh how sweet this moment is! I literally hold your life in my hands. I could cut out your heart so no one else could ever have it.”
In a split second, Kukulkan managed to twist her arm around and pull her back against his chest. He snatched the knife away. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “It’s a rather simple modification, you know. It takes a while, but it only takes the tiniest sliver of code to integrate the change.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Rheak hissed.
Kukulkan smiled and leaned in again. “I already did, so you might want to be extra careful with that fragile shell you’re sporting.”
“Why you lying, cheating—” she said, wrenching free of him. She grabbed the panel and stared in horror at the streaming line of violet symbols already flowing down the screen. “You are already in their system.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m still not entirely sure if the code left in the Machidonian system can exist without me controlling it. My old self has been shattered and used in so many messy, crude ways that I may take centuries to reform and recover. Now, however, I can take control and begin hobbling the Machidonian army while you remain safe at my side—”
“You mean trapped and out of the way,” Rheak corrected.
“You’re still dangerous, Rheak. I have to make sure that you’ve changed before I let you loose upon this world,” Kukulkan sighed. “As you begin to learn and assimilate your shell’s experiences—”
“You always were the schemer, Kukulkan. You tricked me. You altered me without my consent,” Rheak said, sneering. “And to think you once said that you loved me.”
Kukulkan reached for her again. She shrugged him away.
“I moved heaven and hell to get a message to you, Rheak. Do you have any idea what the other guardians would do if they realized I let a creature like you discover a way to slip even a piece of yourself past the firewalls?” he asked. His eyes softened. “The others may have despised you on principle, but I always believed—”
“I’m the one who got past the seals to bring myself here,” Rheak said. “Seven stupid little seals weren’t nearly enough.”
“And who do you think designed them, Rheak?” Kukulkan asked.
“Then you’ve lost your touch, snake-boy,” Rheak snapped.
“They were never supposed to be difficult,” Kukulkan said slowly. “They were supposed to teach you—”
“Teach me what? That there are fantastically flexible, well-built Beasts in this universe? If that was your gift to me, I certainly thank you.”
“To teach you to care, Rheak!” Kukulkan said. “To teach you how to protect, how to love—”
“You honestly thought that one little sliver of a human, a few months of weakness, face-sucking, and so much running would actually change what I am? You are a bigger fool than I remember, snake-boy.”
“Then why are you already starting to sound like Jenn?” Kukulkan asked as he returned to the computer. He pressed his palm against the screen, and electricity ran up and down his arm.
Rheak slinked toward him and wrapped her arms around him. It was her turn to whisper in his ear again. “You know I could never stay mad at you, Kukulkan. No matter how many hurtful things you say, or how you lie—I just can’t hate you.”
“I need to connect the communication controls and stop that air ship, you know. You shouldn’t keep distracting me,” he said as her hand slipped down his side.
“You’re trying to emulate organic life. To grow, and to change, right?” Rheak asked. “You read the code of the meat’s DNA and transfer information back and forth, don’t you? That means that there must be organic ways to transfer data. Maybe I should just collect a bunch of your . . . organic material, and we can make a new version of ourselves that way. How does that sound for a plan once we get out of here, lover?”
“Rheak, are you suggesting . . . ?” Kukulkan asked. He hesitated for just a moment as he lost the connection with the computer. She tilted his head back and kissed him passionately—right before snatching his knife off the console and jamming it into his back.
“I’m suggesting that you should remember exactly who you’re dealing with, lover. Enjoy some time in the void. Maybe that way you’ll understand what I’ve been through for a change,” she said as she pulled away.
Kukulkan dropped to his knees and grabbed his back. “What have you done?” he gasped. Rheak looked around the room. When she found a camera in a corner, she raised the bloody knife to it and smiled. A moment later, alarms sounded.
“What have you done?” the speakers asked in a hollow, metallic version of Kukulkan’s voice.
“What I do best,” she said before dipping a finger into the growing pool of Eon’s blood. She pressed it to her lips and then blew him a kiss. “Oh, and lover? I really don’t care if you
stop this war or not. Just know that I’m going to take our little ship and go straight to the Beasts’ city. You might control the transport module here, but you don’t control theirs.”
“Rheak, no . . . !” Kukulkan said as he wheezed and struggled for breath.
“How did that legend you concocted go? At the end of all this, the Serif-fan goes back to the stars and all that? It sounds really fun. I think I’m going to go back to one of your favorites and wreak a little havoc there. They will never see me coming.”
“No . . . ,” Kukulkan gasped before collapsing on the floor.
“I thought you loved me, but you only wanted to change me,” Rheak said with a tempestuous scowl. “You got what you deserved. You got what you’ve always deserved.”
“It would have been faster to take the skiff straight to the front, Zhanfos,” Mihasu said as they disembarked on the western edge of the Great Forest. She slung a sword and crossbow at her side while Kei hooked on his bracers. Licia grabbed a sword and shield as well.
“I need to get word from my father and from the shamans,” Kei said quickly. “I saw so much fire as we approached—”
He stopped as a small band of warriors charged toward their skiff, brandishing spears and claws. Kei planted himself in front of the women and waved his hands frantically. The man leading the pack barely managed to stop his charge in time.
“Lord Kei?” he asked as the group skidded to a halt. “By the Lost God—”
“There is no time. You must take us to my father,” Kei barked. Before the warrior could speak again, Kei grabbed the reins of one of the Jar-Elks and roared.
The frightened guardsman jumped to the ground and ripped off his vest. Fur and claws burst from his skin as he scuttled into the depths of the forest. Kei and Mihasu jumped on the creature’s back. Licia reluctantly jumped onto a saddle behind another warrior and the whole band raced through the forest.
