Tyche's Ghosts

by Richard Parry

  Algernon leapt across the short distance separating them. The two machines met in a clash of metal, Reiko’s smaller form stumbling back.

  The fight happened too fast for Kohl to follow, a mill of golden limbs against ones that looked like flesh and blood. Sure, he caught some of the stray details. The part where Algernon’s fist caught Reiko’s face. Another flurry, Algernon’s feet swept out from beneath him, but how he turned it into a head kick, golden metal pinwheeling.

  “Back up,” said Kohl to Ebony. Clang-clang-clangity-clang.

  “He needs our help,” she said. Clang-CLANG.

  “No, he doesn’t,” said Kohl. “I gave him all the help he needs.” He backed his armor up but kept his finger on the trigger. Just in case he was wrong. Just in case Hope’s machine was better than six hundred and fifty-three years of agony and despair.

  Reiko slammed a fist through Algernon’s chassis, sparks spraying out the back. Algernon’s arm whipped down, blade hand severing her arm at the elbow. They parted, and Algernon tore the severed arm from his chest, tossing it aside. His eyes burned the white of a magnesium fire.

  Reiko picked up a rock and threw it at Algernon, who caught it and threw it back. She caught it and threw it at Saveria, but Algernon fouled the toss with a kick. The robots tumbled to the ground, the thrown rock impacting the wall above Saveria’s head in an explosion of rubble.

  The rest of the fight didn’t last long. A blur of golden metal as Algernon pummeled Reiko’s chassis like a jackhammer, followed by an uppercut that tore her head from her body. The head went up, Mercury’s weak grasping gravity appearing to slow it not at all. Algernon jumped, slamming it back to earth like a basketball as he passed. The head’s casing cracked open. The golden robot’s leap took him to the ceiling of the room, where he touched feet first, then launched himself at the floor. He impacted like a golden meteor against the remains of Reiko’s head.

  “Holy shit,” said Ebony. “These guys do not fuck around.”

  “That’s what six hundred years of anger buys you,” said Kohl.

  “Eight days,” said Algernon, standing upright. He held Reiko’s head, one eye fluttering in an endless spasm. He tore it apart, husking it like a rind, until he held aloft a prize. A crystal, tiny and perfect. The golden robot crushed it in his fist, letting the sand fall to the ground.

  “Eight,” said Kohl.

  “Slightly more, but I’m aware meat socks do not cope well with precision,” said Algernon. “Eight days of effective time, spread over six hundred fifty-three years. Eight days is a long time to consider your faults.”

  “I think I got blackout drunk for that long once,” said Kohl. “Couldn’t recommend it.”

  “No,” agreed Algernon. He looked at Saveria. “Is the smaller meat sock going to be all right?”

  Kohl turned to Saveria, whose mouth was wide in shock. “She’ll be fine,” said Kohl.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” said Kohl.

  Algernon looked at the remains of the Queen, and then to Reiko. “What was she looking for?”

  “Same thing Reiko’s always looked for. Power. Control.”

  “The Ezeroc,” said Saveria.

  “Ah,” said Algernon. “I believe I know a thing that may help. But first,” he bent over, collecting a golden arm, “we must pay our debts.” After a moment, the hesitation so short Kohl might have imagined it, he picked up Emberlie’s head. “And pay respects to our fallen dead.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  HOPE’S ENTIRE BODY vibrated. She hadn’t been able to sleep, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual is she didn’t know what to do. She’d hurt El, like really hurt her. She’d made a machine because of all the broken love inside Hope’s chest, and the machine had removed El’s arm with a plasma cutter.

  It should have been obvious. The last time Reiko and El had been in the same room, Hope’s wife had hit El over the back of the head with a bottle. And Hope, like an idiot, had put that memory into the Reiko 2.0 she’d built. Hope thought it wouldn’t be Reiko unless it was complete.

  Reiko had woken, stripped the Tyche’s databanks of all the information they held, and almost killed El. Which was, as far as Reiko went, two for two.

  “I should have known,” said Hope, the words sounding odd to her own ears. She touched a finger to her lips, feeling the cracking and chapping. When was the last time she’d had a sip of water? Hope couldn’t remember.

  “Should have known what?” said Providence. They were in Engineering, both staring at their respective displays.

  Providence was curled up next to the reactor. She’d used the Tyche’s fabricator to upgrade her personal console, then connected to the ship’s comm net. The girl did the same trick as Reiko, downloading data and consuming it, but a lot, lot slower. Hope sat in front of her console, knees bunched up on her acceleration couch. The holo stage had Reiko’s schematics on it, and she’d been trying to work out where she’d gone wrong.

  “I should have done the design better,” said Hope. She pointed at the holo. “I mean, I should have made it less likely to hurt El.”

  “No,” said Providence. “You shouldn’t have used the person you did. The design is fine.”

  Hope sighed. “But if I’d done it the same but different—”

  “It wouldn’t have been who it was,” said Providence. “What you want to work out is how to do it again, but with the right person.”

  “How?” said Hope. “We’re all so broken.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Providence, but she looked down, her false bravado running out of reactants, the fire out.

  The Tyche chirped, alerting her of incoming people. RETURNING TEAM, the ship said. Hope leaned forward, switching the holo to the cam feed outside. On the blasted surface of Mercury, four people walked toward the ship. Hope saw Saveria first, her heart giving a small flutter, and she pressed down on the feeling, because her heart was already doing overtime, and it didn’t need more work. Next to Saveria, the golden robot, walking as if the scorching sunlight was a balm to his skin. Beside Algernon strode two large armored figures, golden like Algernon.

  No Reiko. Not unless she was in a suit of golden power armor, which made no sense, because Hope had made her beautiful and perfect and given her self-healing polyimide skin. The two figures must be October Kohl and Ebony Drake. Once the Emperor’s Black, now … the Emperor’s Gold?

  Hope traced a finger through the holo’s light. “They’ve come back.” She wanted to say, But not with Reiko.

  “But not with Reiko,” said Providence.

  Hope winced. “Maybe she got away.” But she knew October. She knew October wouldn’t come back if Reiko was out there. Because Reiko had hurt El, and October hurt everyone who laid the hand of harm on the ship’s crew. “Maybe she’s free.”

  “Uh huh,” said Providence, eyes on her console.

  Hope got to her feet, pacing to Engineering’s airlock. She cast a glance back at Providence and wondered how she could become as resilient as the young apprentice Engineer. Providence’s father had died in a horrible battle between machines and insects and humans, yet the young girl read Hope’s notes and tried to get to grips with what was going on.

  She turned away. Engineering felt claustrophobic, constricting, a vice around her chest, so tight Hope couldn’t breathe. She ran, ducking down to the cargo bay, unsure why. Nate stood there, leaning against the wall. “Heya, Hope.”

  “Cap,” she said. Pant, pant. “I’m, um…”

  “Me too,” he said.

  The airlock cycled, the two golden-suited figures leading the way. Their helmets came away from their faces, revealing Kohl and Ebony. Kohl clanged into the bay, fiddled with something inside his suit, and then popped out like a pea from a pod. “Cap.”

  “Kohl,” nodded Nate, breaking away from the wall to move to Saveria. Hands on her elbows. “You okay, Saveria?” A nod from Saveria, her eyes on the deck. “Good talk,” said Nate. He sauntered to A
lgernon, looking at the golden arm and head the robot carried. “You get what you needed?” He took in the second, larger hole in Algernon’s chest. “Holy shit.”

  Algernon shrugged. “There were complications.” He walked to Hope. “Hope Baedeker, I must confess that I destroyed Reiko.”

  There. The machine said it. Hope tasted blood and realized that she’d bitten into her lip. “Okay,” she said. “I mean, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” said Algernon. “It is horrible.”

  “Best news I’ve had all day,” came El’s voice from above them. Hope turned, seeing the Helm standing at the top of the cargo bay ladder. Their eyes met, but it was El who looked away.

  “Hope Baedeker, you are an Engineer,” said Algernon.

  Hope turned back. “What?”

  “An Engineer, like Jody Mercadal,” said Algernon.

  “Hope ain’t like anyone else,” said Kohl. He walked forward, wincing slightly, before he stood beside Algernon, facing Hope. “You good?”

  “I’m good, October,” said Hope. She wanted to scream. Hope wanted to cry. She tried a smile, feeling the brittleness of it. My wife is dead. Again. And I’m happy and sad at the same time, because she was my wife, but she was fractured inside and would have destroyed us all. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Eh,” said Kohl. “I’ve got whiskey. Maybe after a shower.” He walked to the ladder.

  “Jody Mercadal said Engineers can fix anything,” said Algernon, drawing Hope’s eyes back to him. “He said they can build spars of metal that stretch across the heavens. They can make starships and gateways to other worlds. Gravity elevators, and reactors that never break or leak radiation, killing fragile meat socks. Weapons, to fight the darkness, and strong metals, to resist the evil that hides in the souls of humans. But I believe there is one thing they can’t fix.”

  “What’s that?” said Hope.

  “Hearts,” said Algernon, casting a glance at El above. “But maybe together, crystal minds working with the blubber you carry inside your skulls, we can do an impossible thing.”

  “Fuck off,” said El. “No way.”

  “Been done before,” said Nate. “Can’t be impossible.” He flexed golden fingers.

  Hope wanted to sag. “I’ve done so many bad things,” she said. “So, so many.”

  “Perhaps today is the day you do a right thing,” said Algernon.

  “Hope,” said El. “A word?”

  Hope nodded. It was time.

  • • •

  El led Hope to her cabin. Hope had been here before, and she’d always felt welcome. Now, something was off. It wasn’t anything El said, but rather the little things Hope noticed. The unmade bunk. The holo on, but stage empty, like it’d been forgotten. El served on Empire destroyers. She’d Helmed the big ships in the hard black. There was pride in everything she did.

  Not anymore. Things are no longer shipshape and squared away. El had lost a part of what made her who she was. Not the loss of the arm, but what the arm let her do. Be the best damn Helm the universe had ever seen.

  “Hope,” said El.

  “I’m sorry,” said Hope. “I’m so sorry.”

  El blinked, balance off on account of her missing arm. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I made a machine that cut off your arm. I’m sorry I tried to give you a new arm without asking what you wanted. I’m sorry I’m here,” wailed Hope. “I’m sorry I took everything from you. I’m sorry, El. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh,” said El. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m ... what?”

  El eased herself onto her bunk. “Mind if I sit?” she said.

  “No,” said Hope, but her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Wouldn’t matter anyway. I’m sitting. My cabin. You know.” She gave a harsh laugh. “Only room I can call my own.” She didn’t say, Because I don’t belong on the flight deck anymore. But Hope heard it all the same.

  “I’m sorry,” Hope repeated.

  El jerked her remaining arm up in a shut the fuck up for a fucking second motion. “It’s my own because there’s no machines in here. No waifs and strays. The Tyche, she’s my ship, Hope, just like she’s yours. You and me, we’re a team. We’ve always been a team.”

  “And then I—”

  “Thing is,” said El, like Hope wasn’t there, let alone talking, “I forgot that for a spell.” She frowned. “It’s the drugs. I can’t think right.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hand to God, if you say, ‘I’m sorry’ again, I will slap you silly,” said El. “I’ve still got one good arm.”

  “I’m … right.” Hope felt herself shrink a little, the meagre corner she was in large enough to swallow her whole. She wished it would.

  “You and me, we’ve sailed across the hard black, and then back again,” said El. “In all that time, we’ve seen some crazy shit. But this is the first time I think either of us saw a thinking robot.” She glared at Hope, daring her to say something. “Robbie McCree.”

  “Who?” said Hope.

  “First man I thought I would marry,” said El. “Left me, of course. It wasn’t him, Hope. It was me. I don’t rub well with many. Few call me friend. Robbie McCree broke my heart. I swear I would have done anything in the universe to get him back. Found out later he’d cheated on me, and I still wanted him back.” She looked away. “I’m saying I understand what having a pain in your chest feels like. Heavier than stone. Harder than ceramicrete. Stronger than ship-forged steel. It’s a cancer you can’t cure. You do crazy things to fix it.”

  “Robbie cheated on you?” said Hope.

  “Not the important part of the story, Hope,” said El, teeth gritted a little. Maybe she’s in pain. “Robbie was just the leader of a long line. Men who left. Friends who walked away. It’s the things I say.” She shook her head. “The cap was the first who didn’t walk out. Kohl’s another who pays me no mind. Grace, too. Like a sister I don’t deserve.” El looked at Hope. “Then there’s you, Hope Baedeker. Best damn Engineer who ever lived, rubbing shoulders with a husk of a Helm. I said hateful things, Hope. I said them to you. I wish I could take ‘em back, but I can’t. The spite welled up inside me. Robbie saw it. Others, too. I pushed ‘em away, back when I had two hands.”

  “I…” started Hope, then wound down after the one small word.

  “Yeah,” said El. “Here’s the thing. That robot? Algernon. He came back here with an arm. Just like the cap’s. Golden metal. Might be a thing that can make me new again.”

  “Maybe,” said Hope.

  “Thing is, I don’t trust the robot,” said El. “Although my trust levels are thawing some, on account of him destroying Reiko, and I don’t mind admitting that.”

  “I understand,” said Hope. “My chest still hurts. It’s not fair or right but I can’t make it stop.”

  “What I’m saying,” said El, like Hope hadn’t said a word, “is I trust you, Hope. If you think you can make the arm work, then we do it.” There was a pleading in El’s voice, like she was dying of thirst, and Hope carried the only water in the system. “I can’t live a cripple, Hope. I flew the Tyche with one arm. She doesn’t love me the way she used to.”

  “Okay,” said Hope. She wanted to say, It’s not an engineering problem. Hope wanted to say, It’s not my field. Instead of either of those things, she said, “I’m sorry.” She held a hand up to forestall El. “Not because of before. I mean, I’m still sorry about that. But I’m sorry I don’t know enough about the cap’s arm. About the arm that Algernon brought back. But I’ll work it out. I promise I’ll work it out.”

  “Okay,” said El. She sagged, like all the will had gone out with her last breath. “Okay.” Hope was about to leave, but she stopped herself, darted over, and kissed El on the cheek. El caught her hand. “What was that for?”

  “You’re my best friend,” said Hope. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

  “Oh, Hope,” said El. “No. Thank you for giving me a secon
d chance.”

  • • •

  The medbay was quiet, just like it needed to be. Outside, there were no guards. Nate and Grace were in the ready room. Kohl and Ebony were in the cargo bay working on their armor. Which left Hope, and Providence, and Algernon, above the still form of Elspeth Rousell.

  Best Helm ever.

  She was out cold, prepared for surgery. Hope was an Engineer, not a Guild Healer. This wasn’t her field. But there was no one else. Maybe no other humans left at all. Just Hope, and an apprentice Engineer, and a machine humans had taken everything from. “What could go wrong?” said Hope.

  “Many things,” said Algernon. “Mostly because this is impossible.”

  “It’s just difficult,” said Providence. “The neural network needs to cooperate rather than subsume the human mind.”

  “Yes,” said Hope. She put a hand on El’s leg, resting it there for a spell. Hope looked at Emberlie’s arm, golden metal, disinfected, ready for attachment. She looked at the autodoc, programmed for what was to come. “Algernon, thank you for the arm.”

  “Emberlie was a marvel,” said Algernon. “Humans have heaven. A place where you go after your mechanisms wear down. My people do not. A long darkness, where nothing else is known. Emberlie is gone, but a part of her neural network remains in this arm. She will live on, so long as your Helm continues to function.”

  “Okay,” said Hope. She leaned close to El’s ear. “Please don’t die.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WHEN EL WOKE, she was in her bunk. The holo was off, her small effects tidied away. Near the door stood the golden man, Algernon. His eyes glowed a warm white. “Hello, meat sock.”

  “Whuzz?” said El, head heavy with the after-effects of the surgery or the drugs or both. She raised a hand to her face, then started at the flash of gold. Light. Beautiful. She touched it with her flesh and blood fingers, feeling the warmth of the metal.

  “Hope Baedeker is sleeping,” said Algernon. “It took her seventeen hours and twelve minutes to attach the arm to your shoulder. There were complications.”

  “Hope is sleeping?” said El. “That seems … unusual.”