At The Hands Of Madness

by Kevin Holton

  “I’m not going to ask you again.” Damien’s electronic voice echoed from the speakers.

  “I’m not a Nanite!” Mari snapped back, defiant and understandably defensive.

  I shared a worried glance with Allessandra, then looked to Steve and Grover, who both shrugged. Grover looked really tired, but the sun was starting to set, and he always punked out after dark. He rose early though—far earlier than most of us—so he had every right to be tired. After the day’s events, I’d grown tired too.

  By opposition, Steve was known to stay up well past midnight, sleeping through the morning and waking after noon, so he kept focus later, ready for evening action. In the past, such different schedules might’ve made it hard for them to actually hang out, but now, they could swap watch shifts with ease and still talk the late afternoon away.

  Having at least one other person alert and ready to intervene made me a little happier, because I wasn’t prepared to step in front of Damien’s newest toy if things got out of hand. Steve’s boisterous personality would provide a nice buffer against our leader’s Nanite issues.

  “How do I know that, huh?” Damien said. “Swords came out of your arms! You really expect me to believe you’re not a Nanite?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe anything. You don’t know me, so I know you’re not going to trust me, but I am telling you the truth. I’m not a machine. Not… entirely, anyway.”

  “Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Damien laughed sarcastically. “That didn’t take long. So you admit it: you’re a Nanite.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Only partially. I got hurt, okay? I used to drive in a convoy, moving supplies, when Medraka appeared and blew us off the road. We flipped over a dozen times. Everyone else in my vehicle died, but by some horrible miracle, I didn’t. All that happened to me was that my arms were crushed. The bones were like dust, and bits of metal had torn through the cabin, ripping up my tendons. I couldn’t even unbuckle my seatbelt, and had no chance in hell of getting out of the wreckage. A Nanite scout found me, pried the truck open, and saw that I was still alive, so it—he—patched me up. He shared some of the Cloud with me to put my body back together.”

  “So just like that, a Nanite saves your life?”

  “Yes. In fact, he saved two.” Her hand covered her abdomen.

  That shut him up quick, and she didn’t even know what kind of a blow that dealt to him. After a moment’s contemplative silence, he said, “Still. How do we know we can trust you? You lied to us. Trust is all we have, and if you’re not honest, you’re not welcome here.”

  “When?” she said, head cocked. “When did I lie?”

  “One of the first—hell, one of the only questions I asked you was, ‘What do you bring to the table?’ What weapons, what skills, what abilities, and you lied. Through omission. And then we get swarmed by the Phranna from all sides within a few hours of your arrival here. That timing is… suspicious.”

  “Woah, woah, hold on a second.” Steve stepped out of the sidelines to stand next to Mari. Just as I hoped, he got involved, meaning I might not have to. “First of all, let’s get real with this shit: there’s no such thing as a lie of omission. Should she have told us? Fuck yeah. Definitely,” he said, glancing at Mari. “But still. As for the Phranna, look, bad timing, absolutely. Except, when have they ever worked with the Nanites before? Not like they have some kinda weird ass strategy sessions, planning to hold off until we’re vulnerable or some shit, right? So relax. We can all reasonably assume she had nothing to do with today.”

  Grover grinned. “Yeah, man, why you getting so heated? That’s my job.”

  “They both operate on a hivemind mentality. It wouldn’t be a huge leap for them to work together. One swarm protecting another.”

  Now it was Lisa’s turn to step forward. “Ants don’t protect cockroaches, nor do termites guard bees. The Nanites and Phranna are likewise totally different species. The Nanites, mind you, are still human, no matter what science they’ve done to themselves.”

  “So you trust her?” Damien, still angry, now at the clear loss of control over our main contingent. He wasn’t one to get clingy over power, but no one likes being usurped.

  “You see her as someone who, arguably, deceived you,” Lisa said, “but I fought alongside her. I witnessed first-hand the passion she holds for slaughtering the creatures that would otherwise slaughter us, and rushing into close quarters combat with them demonstrates a bravery I’ve seen in few others. A recklessness, too, and maybe a little insanity, but bravery nonetheless. No matter what she is, I am confident in her readiness to fight for humanity, whether or not she herself is human.”

  Damien fell silent, thinking for a moment. “So you’re not suspicious of all this?”

  “Not at all,” she said confidently.

  “Then what about that?” Damien said, mechanical arm raising to point behind them. Three human-sized figures approached, running quickly, steps in unison, ignoring the body parts and blood stains. They were far too fast for actual human beings.

  Nanites. Not enough for a war party, but we had no way of knowing if they’d be friendly.

  Damien reared back, ready to fight, as the three figures came within a reasonable talking distance, then stopped in an instant, as if immune to momentum. They wore the same beige-and-black slack and shawl combo that, I knew from past experience, were actually made from Nanites, like their flesh. Mari mumbled, “Oh god,” and ran a hand through her hair, looking away from them.

  “Hello!” The one in the center called out, its voice mostly human, crossed with static from between old TV channels. “We can see you’re suspicious of us. We apologize for the surprise. Our sensors indicated one of our own engaged in combat in this area. The readings did not indicate Mari was the one involved in said combat.”

  “One of our own?” Damien echoed, mech head turning toward her.

  “That’s just how they talk!” she yelled back.

  I’d met Nanites before, and frankly, had no problem with them, but I needed to see where this was going before I intervened. Damien wasn’t exactly the most Nanite-friendly guy around. I knew his reasons though, and couldn’t fault his reaction to seeing them now.

  “We are sensing continued hostilities, though this is now directed at us. Have we done something to alarm you?” Left said, deeper, more Terminator-like, which wouldn’t help ease tensions at all.

  “Other than arriving unannounced?” the Right, a female with a softer voice, added.

  Center chimed in with, “Ordinarily, the one we respond to is alerted to our attention and intention, and is able to anticipate our arrival. Unfortunately, because Mari is not synced with our servers, she was unable to receive that signal. Her integration extends only to her arms, and thus, her brain does not have the capacity to engage directly with The Collective.”

  Before Damien could respond, I jumped in. “Hold on, Damien. I think I get what’s happening here.” Turning to the trio, I said, “The Nanites in her transmitted her elevated heartbeat and adrenaline, as well as going into ‘combat mode,’ with the swords, but when she didn’t respond, you thought it was a full Nanite who had been injured. When she didn’t ping you back, you interpreted this as an SOS.”

  The three nodded, with Center adding, “You’re remarkably astute.”

  “Thanks. But Damien here has some… trust issues with Homo Autonomous, so finding out Mari has some nanobots to her really freaked him out. You showing up like this didn’t exactly help. So, everyone,” I said, addressing both sides and looking around, “do you think maybe we could all take a step back and chill the hell out? No need for more violence. Climb down out of there and let’s talk like people, even if some of us are, well, a different species of people.”

  “I don’t chill,” Grover said, “but I’m totally down for steak, scotch, and a good night’s sleep if that’s what you’re saying.”

  Damien spoke again, but this time, I heard two voices, the mech almost masking the real one. “I don�
��t feel comfortable having my team rest with them lurking about in the night.” I turned and saw our leader walking behind us, approaching with a steady gait and an unusual helmet on his head. It had been adjusted, but was clearly meant to cover his eyes and ears. “Not without a long chat first, at the very least.”

  “Wait, you were remote piloting the whole time?” Steve said, after following my gaze. The mood drastically shifted once we all realized he hadn’t really been in the fight. The supposed head of our defensive organization, hiding back in his tent?

  “I needed to put my new creation through a field test.”

  “The heat of battle’s a bad time to test your new toy.” Grover narrowed his eyes, and despite how easy it would’ve been to call him Hot Head, it was surprisingly hard to piss him off. I’d even bet on his pun being unintentional.

  “When else would I test it?”

  “How about when our lives aren’t on the line?” Steve added.

  “Please,” Damien snorted. “You two, concerned about safety?” But his gaze fell on Allessandra’s blood-stained torso and he looked quickly away.

  “He’s afraid,” said the Center Nanite. Damien attempted to speak, then stopped himself. “Forgive our doing so, but we have many scanner functions, some of which provide biological data. We notice an elevated heart rate, and specific thermal patterns indicating fear and shame. He designed a remote pilot mech suit because he is afraid of the conflicts you fight, and is embarrassed at having disappointed you as a leader. …And further embarrassed by our pointing this out. Our apologies for that.”

  His hands curled, knuckles going white as his fingers pressed into his palm. Allessandra crossed over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. I don’t think I was supposed to be able to hear her. “You know you dislike them for personal reasons. Reasons that have nothing to do with combat or violence. To date, there have been no unprovoked hostilities from Nanites against Humans—only times that they’ve defended themselves when threatened. They may even be able to help us. Please, put your feelings aside and do what you know is best for everyone.”

  Once, she asked me how to tell if you’re really crazy—how to tell the difference between genuinely ill, and only labeled ill by people who don’t understand you. I didn’t have an answer, but in these moments, I had to admit, she didn’t seem crazy to me.

  A minute passed, undisturbed by further talking, with wind blowing little dust devils along the soil. If it hadn’t been for the stench of death and blood, it might’ve been a nice breeze. The stars were coming out around a full moon, the air was cool but not cold, and even if no one mentioned it, we were all feeling the collective buzz of a costly but hard-earned victory. A fugue surrounded us, and I for one always felt those moments were the instant after a lightning strike—the danger has passed, leaving energy and a burned-out feeling in its wake.

  “Fine,” Damien muttered. He removed his helmet, his bald head shining with a thin sheen of sweat, even in this dim light. “I realize asking if you’re unarmed is pointless, but…” He grimaced, looking away for a moment at Mari. “If you’re already here, why not stay the night? We can discuss… peace. Or trade. Or whatever.”

  The Center Nanite looked at its fellows, then nodded in agreement to an unspoken conversation. “We appreciate the offer, but wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Look, I…” Damien sighed, posture relaxing a bit. “I have issue with one of you Nanites, not really… you. The whole ‘collective’ thing just makes it hard to think that one isn’t… listening. Or incoming. But if it’s just you, sure, why not.”

  I felt reassured knowing our leader wasn’t a bigot. I could understand a reflexive avoidance of a particular group, if that group causes someone pain. I made it a point to ask why he detested them so much, later on. Now wasn’t the time, though, as he slipped the helmet back on and piloted the mech back to its resting place in The Scrapyard.

  The Nanite group approached, following us back into camp while Grover yawned, mumbling about staying up so late, but Steve mentioned something about a stash and his buddy seemed satisfied. Mari walked between us, a mediator, poised to react if something went awry. I joined her, walking side by side. Allessandra joined us too.

  “You alright?” I said to Mari.

  “This is nothing I’m not used to.”

  After decoding her double negative, I put another two puzzle pieces together. “Is this why you got kicked out of your other camps?” When she ‘replied’ by scrunching up her face in thought, I added, “Oh. You didn’t get kicked out of other camps, did you?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t willing to go full-swarm, so I couldn’t stay with The Collective. I went from there to here.”

  “So that accident happened, what, three weeks ago?”

  “…Four.”

  “While you were pregnant?”

  A heavy sigh. “Didn’t know at the time. The Nanite who pulled me out of the wreckage and shared his nanobots with me to rebuild my arms broke the news. Said his sensors picked up on it almost immediately. None of them know if it’ll affect the baby or not.”

  Her face twisted with worry so palpable I could feel it. “Well, look, you seem like a passionate, caring person. I figure, if you’re half as good at raising a child as you are with killing Phranna in close quarters combat, it’ll grow up fine, Nanite or otherwise.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, Hennessy.”

  I meant every word. I had absolute faith that she’d make an excellent mother, but I couldn’t get our fallen soldiers out of my head. What would new life matter in a dead world?

  Chapter 4

  “So, if we’re understanding correctly, this one,” the Center Nanite said, pointing at Grover, “is not only pyrokinetic, he is also the cook?”

  Grover had, a moment earlier, lit the center firepit with a lazy fireball. Extending his arm palm up, he conjured a sphere roughly half a foot wide, launching it to start a sizeable blaze over which we could roast, grill, fry, and otherwise make edible whatever we wanted. He did do most of the cooking, but at his request, we’d made the pit big enough to accommodate multiple cooking stations. His wording was something like, “I love you guys, but if you want to order something off menu, cook it your damn selves.” While everyone else cooked from the edge, he could stand directly in the fire and cook from the center, giving him a lot more room to work than anyone else when he did decide to help.

  Now, in preparing a meal large enough to accommodate our main crew, he stared, curious and tired, at our guests’ question. He’d already performed his usual post-battle duties: cremating the dead to prevent infestation, infection, and other issues that arise from being around corpses. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to relax a bit. Grover shrugged it off, saying a pyre burned like any other flame, but it couldn’t have been easy.

  That night, he stood right in the middle of the pit, fire snakes coiling up around his legs and torso, never so much as singeing his clothes. The Nanites didn’t eat much, but he insisted on providing some sense of hospitality. “You can’t possibly be asking if I’m the cook, since I’m obviously cooking, so are you asking why I’m the cook?”

  “Yes, precisely.” The three Nanites nodded.

  “Can I answer your question with a question?”

  “Like a zen proverb?” Left tilted his head, words resonating and deep, spoken by shifting tectonic plates.

  “Sure.”

  “Absolutely. By all means.” Right seemed eager for a riddle.

  “What the fuck else would my job be?” He flashed a wry, albeit sleepy, grin.

  They appeared to all think for a moment, then Right added, “That’s a fair point.” I think they even laughed, a little bit. “Any power wielded for the good of one’s fellows, no matter how imprecise, is well used.”

  Eyebrows up, he turned away as he mouthed, Imprecise?

  I looked around at the lot of us. Damien sat a quarter way around our circle from the Nanites. If they were at 6 o’clock, he was at 3,
while Allessandra and Lisa were at 9. I sat a little way between them and the Nanite crew, but couldn’t help noticing Allessandra still holding her sides, where the Phranna had cut her.

  “Hey.” I joined them, thinking back on the irony of having just restocked the first aid kits. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” Her reply came a bit too quickly. I didn’t need robotic scanner eyes to see her breathing was a little fast and a little shallow.

  “Are you still bleeding? Want me to get a first aid kit?”

  She shook her head. “Supplies… are limited. It’ll stop on its own.”

  “Hey, if they’re still open, they could get infected, and antibiotics are a lot scarcer than bandages.”

  Footsteps crunched up in the dirt behind me. “You alright?” Grover’s voice, without its jocular tone. He knelt in front of her, looking at her hands clasped from her side. “You don’t want to use bandages, I get that. Doesn’t mean you have to walk around bleeding, as long as you can handle a little pain.”

  Lisa snorted. “Women are used to bleeding and pain, you know.”

  “Good point. Not what I meant. But, A, at least get your wounds checked, whether or not you’re going to do anything about them.”

  Biting her lip and glancing over her shoulder at something, she sighed, raising her arms. Twin gashes ran along her ribs, her top sliced open to expose wounds roughly five inches long and a quarter inch wide. Phranna wounds were notoriously prone to infection, and the skin around the wounds was already puffing up.

  “These look pretty… inflamed.” Grover tried and failed to suppress a grin. “Joking aside, you need treatment of some kind. Infection that close to your heart could spell trouble, and you can’t melt the disease out of you like I can.”

  We’d all grown used to this, more or less. I don’t think anyone really gets used to the feeling of another person’s skin superheating to the point of searing a wound closed, but we all relied on him for our injuries. Allessandra nodded. “You’re right. I know. I know. I just… don’t want to burden you.”