by M. R. Forbes
Nathan couldn’t argue with the man’s veracity. Tinker had created the replicas of Mary and James Stacker in Niobe and the General. He had built the spire and the energy field that poured from it. He had made the virus to kill the trife. He had made James’ powered armor and improved the Liberators’ weaponry. He had also designed the robot, Isabelle, he had come across in Crosston.
Tinker was a genius. There was no question about that. But were all of his plans inspired by that genius or was there a fair share of madness percolating deeper within? It took a certain kind of person to be okay with taking women prisoner and impregnating them with human-trife hybrids that had zero chance of survival. It took a certain kind of madness to come up with the idea in the first place.
Nathan sighed, trying to release some of the tension. Right now, he had to make a decision about what he wanted to do. Maybe jumping would be the easiest way to resolve the turbulence in his mind and heart. Maybe he should duck out of the rest of the future, and find out if there was an after for replicas?
Or maybe he should stay on the path Niobe had set him on. He felt betrayed. He felt used. Damn it, he still loved her. He couldn’t find it in him to not forgive her for all of it. She had done what she was made to do. Was that any different from him being placed into Space Force and run through the academy? Nobody had asked him if that’s what he wanted. It just was. They made him that way, and he wouldn’t have known how to want to change it if he could.
Now that he did have a choice, what path should he take?
He had inadvertently delivered the key to Tinker. He had done what Niobe set him up to do. Should he become an observer now? Let Tinker do what he would and remain passive? Should he spend whatever number of days he had left down there on the grass, staring at the ocean and enjoying just being alive?
Or should he do what James wanted? Tinker could open the artifact as soon as he found it, but he still had to find it. The Space Force had made it disappear, and Tinker didn’t know exactly where yet.
Now that James’ mission to deal with him and the Spacers who had been sent after him was over, the next mission would begin. Tinker had a few leads on the artifact, but it would be up to James and the Liberators to follow up on them. Meanwhile, Tinker would work on increasing production of the virus and the delivery vehicles that would carry it around the globe. It was a process that would take weeks if not months, but now that he had a one-hundred percent successful sample, time was something he could afford.
But did he want to participate in finding the artifact? Did he want Tinker to open it when it had scared the hell out of the original Earth military? Tinker seemed to think that when the Others came through, they would be benevolent to Edenrise and the humans who were still alive.
What if he was wrong?
He could only imagine helping Tinker open Pandora’s Box, and allowing the aliens who sent the trife to destroy humankind finish the job. All things considered, wasn’t that the more likely scenario?
He turned away from the railing, looking inward at the apartment Tinker had given him. It was in relatively good shape. It had soft furniture, clean carpets, and a stock of food from the vertical farm across the street. It was larger and nicer than his cube on Proxima. He tried to picture himself living in it.
For some reason, the concept turned his mind back to Sheriff Hayden Duke. He had been ready to join the Sheriff when James had shown up in Crosston. He had been ready to believe the Liberators were the bad guys. And maybe they were. They had already killed hundreds of innocent people and they were planning to kill thousands more.
As much as he wanted to be one of the good guys, he just wasn’t sure he wasn’t a bad guy too.
Chapter 3
It took Isabelle half an hour to finish burying Loki’s body. It took Gus around the same amount of time to recover from his nausea, and prove to himself that he hadn’t contracted the trife virus after all.
The sun was beginning to drift toward the horizon by the time they got underway again. Isabelle was back behind the wheel, navigating through the remains of civilization with a deftness only a machine could display, somehow managing to pick a path through dilapidated and overgrown streets that kept them on a constant southern heading.
Two hours and forty kilometers passed. Evening was turning into night, and they found themselves at the outer edge of a moderate-sized town. It was as outwardly abandoned as anywhere else they had been. Large storefronts surrounded the street they were traveling along, while groupings of smaller housing were visible in the distance, though the loss of daylight was making them harder and harder to make out.
There were more trees here than there had been deeper in the original urban areas, as well as wildflowers and grasses that had taken root in the cracks of the ancient cement roads and sidewalks, creating an interesting blend of wilderness and civilization which reminded Hayden of home.
“We should stop soon, Sheriff,” Isabelle said. “The sound of the engine will attract the trife.”
“Agreed,” Hayden replied. “How are our fuel levels?”
“The Tourmaster was maintained with a full fuel tank. Father always kept it ready to roll in case of an emergency.”
“It didn’t do him much good, did it?” Gus asked, overhearing her from his seat further back in the RV.
A human might have been angered or upset by that kind of comment. Isabelle didn’t flinch. “It didn’t,” she agreed. “But it did work out well for you. In any case, the range of the Tourmaster using all of its fuel supply is close to six hundred kilometers. However, with the obstacles we are forced to avoid and the winding routes we will likely be taking, I would put the range toward your target at half that.”
“Do you know how far it is to Edenrise from here?” Hayden asked.
“Approximately four hundred miles, in imperial units,” she replied.
“So we’ll need to refuel at some point?”
“Pozz, Sheriff.”
Hayden smirked. He had taught her the word because he didn’t like the way she said “yes.” He looked through the windshield, and then pointed to an old gas station. “Let’s stop in there. We can see if the tanks are empty.”
“Pozz.”
Isabelle guided the RV to a stop between the small store and the pumps and turned off the engine. Hayden had forgotten how loud the Tourmaster’s drivetrain was until he couldn’t hear it anymore.
The world outside was nearly silent, with only the occasional call of birds breaking the general stillness. He made his way to the center of the vehicle, where Gus and Pyro were sitting, riding together on the sofa. Gus had found looking out the window beside the couch helped ease his motion sickness, but he still appeared a bit pale, like he couldn’t shake the effects completely.
“Izzy, what kind of supplies do we have on this thing?” Hayden asked.
There was no reply.
“Isabelle?”
“Sorry, Sheriff,” the robot said. “I didn’t know you were talking to me.”
“Right. Izzy is short for Isabelle. Okay?”
“Pozz.”
“We already saw the meds. What other supplies do we have?”
Isabelle walked over to the couch. “Lift your feet, please.”
Gus and Pyro raised their feet, and she opened a pair of hidden drawers beneath. One contained a number of pistols and small automatic rifles. The other held magazines for the weapons in the first.
“Ooh,” Gus said, leaning over and looking down. “Not bad.”
“There are more weapons in the compartments accessible from the outside of the vehicle,” Isabelle said.
“Loki really didn’t want to get caught unarmed, did he?” Gus said.
“Like you did?” Pyro replied, joking about the arm she had hastily plugged into his control ring.
He laughed. “Not exactly. All those guns, and they were useless when he needed them.”
“The trife caught us unprepared,” Isabelle said. “I killed nine of them, but t
here were six more I couldn’t get to in time.”
Her voice was flat when she described how Loki had died. No remorse. No concern. Hayden knew how robots functioned, but she was the first one he had encountered that could talk. Knowing she would react to his death the same way was a little unnerving.
“Okay, we have plenty of guns,” Hayden said. “We have meds. What about food and water?”
“The Tourmaster has a fifty gallon water supply. As for nutrients.” She walked to a separate door and pulled it open, revealing a small kitchen inside. She opened one of the cabinets in it to reveal a pantry completely filled with a mix of cans and something in silvery packaging. “Scavenged from the area around Crosston, and as far out as the bridges we passed over.” She picked up one of the silver packages. “Space Force MREs. Meals ready to eat. Dehydrated food. Tear it open, add water. It will survive the apocalypse.”
“It did survive the apocalypse,” Gus said. “I’ll take one of those.”
Isabelle glanced at Hayden, waiting for his permission.
“Go ahead,” he said.
She opened the package and put it under the sink. A soft hum sounded as the water heater and pump turned on, and then the water went into the package. She handed it to Gus, who put it up to his nose and sniffed before wrinkling his face. He turned the package and pointed at the writing on it.
“What does this say?” he asked Pyro.
“Sausage and gravy flavored,” she replied.
“It smells awful.”
“I don’t care. Don’t waste it.”
“Do you want it?”
She took a sniff. “No.”
“Gus, you don’t know how to read?” Hayden asked.
“I’ve been trying to teach him,” Pyro said. “He’s a stubborn lummox.”
“Lummox?” both Gus and Hayden said.
“I don’t know,” Pyro said. “My dad used to call people that when he was being rude in a nice way.” She laughed.
Gus laughed too. “I don’t know, Sheriff. When I look at the words, they just seem all mixed up. I’ve tried. It’s just hard.”
“That sounds like dyslexia,” Isabelle said.
“Dys what?” Gus replied.
“It’s a cognitive disorder. Difficulty with letters, numbers, and symbols.”
“She’s saying it isn’t your fault,” Pyro said.
“A majority of people with dyslexia are highly intelligent,” Isabelle continued.
Gus laughed. “You hear that, P? My stupidity makes me smart.” He smelled the MRE again. “Are you sure this stuff is edible?”
“I’m not in a position to make that determination,” Isabelle said.
“You know what dyslexia is,” Hayden said. “What other kinds of information are you carrying?”
“My data banks are fully stocked with a number of reference materials. Tinker has an extensive collection of manuals from before the war. Merck, DSM, Chilton. Ask the question, and I will do my best to answer.”
“You were made by Tinker. Are you carrying anything valuable related to Edenrise and the Liberators?”
“No, Sheriff. Tinker didn’t upload sensitive information to a robot he intended to trade away. Though I do have access to a map of the east coast as cataloged by the Liberators’ drones. Loki was never interested in it, but perhaps you might be?”
“How can I look at it?”
“You would need a means to interface with my neural stem. If you had a terminal, Pyro could probably get access. In any case, I can guide you to Edenrise.”
“Do you know if what they say about the place is true?” Gus asked. “Is it really protected by a force field?”
“An energy shield. Yes. Nothing can get past it without Tinker’s permission.”
“Does he have a starship?” Hayden asked.
“I don’t know. Although, if the squad of soldiers from the Trust came in a starship and they are all dead, it stands to reason he has one now even if he didn’t before.”
“Good point. How much charge do you have remaining on your battery?”
“Sixty percent. At an average use of my power supply, I’ll remain operational for three days, four hours, and sixteen seconds.”
“Does the RV have enough power to recharge you?”
“Enough for three days, nine hours, four seconds.”
“About a week total, give or take?”
“Pozz. At average usage. If you intend to have further interactions with the Liberators, it will wear down much faster.”
“I don’t intend to,” Hayden said. “But I don’t have complete control over that.”
“Don’t worry Sheriff,” Pyro said, kicking her foot against the drawer full of guns. “We’ve got your back.”
“Thanks. Let’s shut it down for the night. Dark and silent. Isabelle, do you have a low power mode that will let you keep watch?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect. Pyro, would you like the bed?”
“Uh. No thanks. Loki died in there. I’ll keep the sofa. By the way, mongrels go by a call sign, but my real name is Chandra. I thought you might like to know.”
Hayden smiled. “It’s a beautiful name. I do like knowing it. Thank you, Chandra.” She started to blush, while he turned to Gus. “Your call sign is Gus?”
Gus nodded. “Yup. It’s a long story, maybe I’ll tell it to you on the road tomorrow. My real name is Paul.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Paul. Do you want the bedroom?”
“No thanks. I’ll stay out here with P.”
“There’s a second bed in the sleeper compartment,” Isabelle said. She reached up and unlatched a door on the roof, opening it and pulling down a ladder. “One of you might be more comfortable up there.”
“Dibs!” Pyro said, smiling.
“Too slow, Gus,” Hayden said.
“This time. I’ll take the couch.”
“This thing is almost better than Crosston,” Pyro said, partially climbing the ladder to see the bed. “Do we have a shower and change of clothes, too?”
“My clothes should fit you, if you’d like to borrow some,” Isabelle said.
“Either a floral dress or a bodysuit that leaves nothing to the imagination. Hmmm. I think I’ll pass, but thanks anyway, Izzy.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Isabelle, shut down the lights and power and go into sentry mode,” Hayden said.
“Pozz,” the robot replied.
“Good night Isabelle. Chandra. Paul.”
“Goodnight Sheriff,” Pyro said.
“Night Sheriff,” Gus said.
Isabelle was already moving to the front of the RV to turn off the battery and lights and put them in the dark.
Hayden backed into the large bedroom. He closed the door and looked at the bed. Only a small amount of blood had made it through the sheets and onto the mattress, and it looked like it had already dried. He bent down and pulled off his boots. Then he sat on the side of the bed. He reached down and ran his hand along the silver plastic star Loki had given him as a joke.
It wasn’t a joke to him. He put his feet on the bed and leaned back. His first thought was of Rhonna. He had left her behind. It wasn’t sitting all that well, especially knowing she was most likely dead. He hadn’t been out here as long as plenty of others, but he had been part of the world long enough to know survival was never guaranteed, no matter how hard anyone tried. He had lost Rhonna but also saved Gus and Pyro. It wasn’t a fair trade; nothing about someone dying was fair. It was the best he could have done.
He took a few more minutes to at least think of her before letting it go. He didn’t know if there was a God up there to listen, but it seemed right that someone should hold her in their mind and hearts at the end. Then he gave his final thoughts to Natalia and Hallia, imagining being with them, holding them and kissing them goodnight.
It was a nice image to fall asleep to.
Chapter 4
Nathan was sitting on the overstuffed sofa when s
omeone knocked on his door. It surprised him that anyone would knock considering there were guards posted outside and he was still a prisoner of sorts. But maybe it was an effort to make him feel at home, and like he had some control.
He stood up and walked over to the door. He had spent the last three hours thinking about every part of his life from the moment he met Niobe, trying to retrace his memories and catch any instances where she might have given herself away as a replica, or as a spy. The more he thought about her, the more his love for her continued to strengthen, and the more her loss continued to hurt. He realized he didn’t care if everything about her had been a lie. He was certain her love for him had been real. So what if it had been predicated on someone else’s residual memories? Real was real.
He opened the door. James was standing there, holding what looked like a formal military uniform. The guards were gone.
“Nathan,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Nathan nodded and moved aside. “Where are the guards?”
“We never intended to hold you prisoner, just keep you in one place while you had some time to think. How are you feeling?”
James sounded sincere. He looked the other man in the eye, and recognized there was an affection there. His replica thought of them as brothers, and maybe they could be? Why should he keep denying the family he could have, especially since he was alone?
“Better,” he replied. “Everything you and Tinker told me, it really fucked with my head for a while. But you were right. Time to think did me good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“What’s that?”
James held up the clothes. It looked cleaned and pressed. “This is your uniform for Tinker’s party, if you plan to go. It’s a replica of an original Space Force formal officer’s uniform. We don’t have the hardware, but we’ll give you something to identify you.”
