Cyborg Legacy: A Fallen Empire Novel

by Lindsay Buroker

  Jasim waved away smoke, hoping his suit’s sensors would warn him if more attacks came his way—he could barely see the construct through the haze. Somehow, he knew their enemy was glaring in his direction, though.

  “The men in the Cyborg Corps were following orders,” Jasim said, not sure what tactic might convince the kid to stop firing. Maybe nothing would. Maybe he was just buying time for Leonidas. The hatred in Dufour’s voice made it clear that the wounds were still raw for him, that the last five years hadn’t dulled his pain.

  “You think that’s an excuse?” he cried. “For years and years, you executed criminal orders. You never stood up to the empire, never thought to question if you were doing the right thing.”

  “The Alliance rebels were the anarchists, the ones who started everything. We were defending the empire and the loyal citizens—”

  “Bullshit. You were defending tyranny and oppression. You were wrong, and you killed people just because they dared speak their minds.”

  Jasim took a deep breath. He wouldn’t get anywhere with this line of arguing. It was always impossible to convince the rebels—the Alliance—that they had been wrong, especially since they had ultimately won. Somehow, that had validated everything for them, made them forget their own crimes, all the bombings, all the innocents who had been killed because they’d chosen guerrilla tactics instead of fighting fair. The cyborgs had always faced people openly. But this kid wouldn’t care, just as the rest of the Alliance believed what it chose to believe.

  “Either way,” Jasim said, “the war is over. It’s been over for five years. Killing cyborgs now won’t bring your parents back.”

  “It will avenge their deaths.” Dufour frowned at some display to his side. “I see you back there, cyborg,” he growled. “You think I can’t count to two and keep track of both of you?”

  Jasim waved at more smoke. He sure as hell couldn’t. If not for his suit sensors, he wouldn’t know that Leonidas had worked his way between the wall and the back of the construct again.

  Dufour fired at him again, and Jasim cursed, stepping forward as a rocket exploded. Had Leonidas had time to react to that?

  Jasim growled and fired at the Glastica, remembering Leonidas’s order about sustained fire. If nothing else, it should draw the kid’s attention back to him.

  Unfortunately, it drew too much of his attention. Or maybe he was trying to get away from what Leonidas was planning. Either way, the construct lurched into motion, striding across the floor faster than Jasim expected. He leaped to the side as one of those ponderous legs tried to come down on him. Between the girth and weight, he wouldn’t be surprised if it could put a crack in his armor. And right now, with that gas still swirling from the vents, a crack would be deadly.

  He thought the construct might continue past, especially if Dufour was just trying to escape Leonidas, but it whirled and stalked after Jasim. No, it ran after Jasim. Those legs pounded down, cracking cement under them. He dodged and fired as he fled its path, raking its belly with blazer fire. The bolts bounced off, much as they would with combat armor.

  Jasim lowered his rifle on its harness, turned, and sprang at one of those legs. It kept moving with him on it, but he grabbed the joint and yanked, trying to tear off something important.

  Another boom sounded, fire flaring off to his left. He hadn’t even seen the rocket launch. Was he safe under here? Something snapped as he kept digging into the gap between the top and bottom of the leg. He tore away a protective panel. Then the body lurched and dropped down.

  He yelped and flung himself away. The legs folded, and the body dropped all the way to the ground. As fast as his reflexes were, he didn’t get fully away. Its bug-like carapace smashed down on his hip and one leg. His armor held, but groaned ominously. And he was pinned. He tried to twist onto his side, so he could find more leverage to free himself.

  “Keep talking to him,” Leonidas ordered, his voice coming over the comm. Jasim had no idea where he was.

  “Get off my back, mech,” came the kid’s voice out of the speaker.

  Ah, that’s where he was. Jasim could have done more if he hadn’t been pinned. He shoved at the massive weight—he was lucky he wasn’t being crushed right through his armor. What was he supposed to talk about with their enemy while smashed beneath it?

  “Listen, Terrance,” he called up, though he couldn’t see the kid from his position. “We’re people, the same as you. We fought in the war, yes, but now that it’s over, we’re just civilians doing jobs. You’d kill us when we’re contributing to society?”

  “What do you contribute, repo man?”

  Jasim winced from more than the weight on him.

  “I know what you do, what you all do,” Dufour said. “The galaxy won’t miss you.”

  “It’s honest work. It’s not murder. Not like what you’re doing.”

  “You murdered my family!”

  Jasim grumbled and shoved at the weight. Arguing with the kid wasn’t getting him anywhere. He reminded himself that Leonidas just wanted him distracted, and Dufour was obliging by talking back, but he wished he could find something to say that would end this instead of further escalating it. As steely and unwavering as their enemy was, it still seemed Jasim should be able to find some way out of this without utterly destroying him. Though he wasn’t sure if Leonidas would let Dufour walk away after what he’d done to Banding, after what he’d done to the others.

  The massive construct shifted to its legs again, and Jasim rolled away. His armor groaned, and something snapped in his hip joint. He grimaced, glancing up toward those vents, toward where the greenish gas still flowed out, mingling with the gray smoke.

  “You’re right,” Jasim called, aware of the construct spinning around—chasing Leonidas? “You’re right, Terrance. The war was horrible, and the killing was horrible.”

  To his surprise, the construct spun further until it pointed at him and until he could see the kid’s face through the Glastica. His machine seemed to be out of rockets, but those energy weapons pointing at him made him crouch, ready to spring away. Dufour probably wanted to shut him up, but on the chance he was listening, Jasim pressed on.

  “We were responsible for a lot of the killing,” he said, meeting Dufour’s eyes through the window and the smoke. “We were following orders, and we weren’t the ones making the decisions about where to fight and who, but I know that doesn’t make it any easier for you, for the families of those who were killed. I don’t know if I played a role in your father’s death, but I am sorry for it.”

  “It’s your fault,” Dufour whispered, his voice so soft that Jasim barely heard it, even with the speaker amplifying it. “You didn’t have to become a soldier, a mutant cyborg. You made that choice, and you chose to serve tyrants.” His voice grew louder and steelier. “Now, you die.”

  The construct lurched forward, and two energy weapons fired. Jasim threw himself into a roll, determined not to be crushed by the damn thing again. He fired as he came up, intending to aim at the head, but the construct was already stomping after him with impressive speed. He ended up sprinting away, blue beams biting into the cement at his heels, hurling broken shards into the air. He glanced back, shooting over his shoulder, and stumbled when he spotted Leonidas.

  He was sprawled atop the head of the construct, his own head almost scraping along the ceiling. Jasim held his fire, not wanting to hit him, especially when he saw how battered and charred Leonidas’s armor was now. He must have been caught in some of those explosions.

  “You die,” Dufour repeated, a whisper again. He was looking straight at Jasim.

  Expecting more blazer fire, Jasim zigzagged his path again, careful not to let himself get caught in a corner. But the construct spat a cylindrical object straight out of a hole under the head. Jasim dove away, but it exploded in the air. Oily brown liquid spattered everywhere. He recognized it right away: a rust bang. The corrosive acid could eat through spaceship hulls—and combat armor.

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nbsp; Jasim turned his dive into a roll, trying to gain as much momentum as he could, knowing he needed to escape those spatters. He jumped to his feet, firing and running at the rubble-filled doorway. If he’d been hit, he couldn’t stay in this garage, not with that gas choking the air.

  At first, he thought he might have evaded the spatters, but a flashing red alert appeared among the stats running down his faceplate. A suit breach.

  “Sir, my suit’s been breached,” Jasim blurted, then held his breath. That gas was so toxic that contact might be enough to kill him, but he wouldn’t make it worse by inhaling.

  He reached the rubble blocking the door and cleared it by grabbing boulders and throwing them at the construct. It stomped after him, firing. If Leonidas didn’t do something soon, Jasim wouldn’t have an opportunity to dig out, to get far enough away before he took a breath…

  As Jasim glanced back, checking on Leonidas’s progress as he hurled boulders from the broken doorway, he spotted his comrade still atop the construct’s head, using his blazer to slowly cut into the metal up there. Dufour must have realized he was up there, because his contraption stopped chasing after Jasim. The head came up, smashing Leonidas into the ceiling. Jasim winced in sympathy. He had the doorway cleared enough to run out into the corridor, but he paused. To run away and leave Leonidas here, possibly to be killed… it would be even worse than trying to get out of the army all those years ago. He had brought Leonidas here, endangered him.

  To avoid the head smashes, Leonidas had swung down so that his legs hung in front of the viewing window. He was gripping something to keep from falling fully, but his bottom half dangled helplessly.

  The head came up again, smashing his arms into the ceiling. Leonidas growled, but hung on. He kicked at the Glastica, trying to break it with his boot.

  Jasim’s lungs were starting to cry for air, but he turned his back on the corridor. He ran in and aimed at the Glastica. If Leonidas’s armored kicks couldn’t break it, it had to be reinforced to insane proportions, but surely a sustained blast had to do something. Eventually.

  The kid was focused on Leonidas, trying to grind his arms into the ceiling. He didn’t seem to see Jasim standing in front of him, firing at his window.

  The construct’s head came up in a final smash, and Leonidas yelled and let go. As he fell to the ground, Jasim’s sustained blast finally made it through, puncturing a small hole in the Glastica. He stopped firing immediately. Leonidas glanced up and must have seen the hole, because he pointed to the cleared doorway and ran. Still holding his breath, and praying that would be enough to keep him alive, Jasim also raced for it. Leonidas waited for him, making sure he got out first, then followed.

  As Jasim turned into the corridor, he glanced back. Dufour was stomping after them in the construct, but he seemed to have stopped steering it. His gaze was to the side, riveted to that hole.

  Jasim didn’t have time to run back to that lab and climb up the shaft to get out into the clean desert air. He hoped the wide corridor led to the drawbridge, as they’d guessed. Starved for air, his face flaming hot, he raced for the end, his focus narrow and tight. He was barely aware that Leonidas wasn’t keeping up with him. Maybe his armor hadn’t been breached, so he didn’t need to hurry.

  Jasim rounded a bend, and the drawbridge came into view ahead of him. Out of nowhere, white beams lanced from all directions, crisscrossing the corridor. The traps Leonidas had been worried about waited for them.

  Jasim, with blackness encroaching on his vision, ran straight through them. They were stronger than rifle fire, and more alerts flashed across his faceplate. Something bit into one of his back seams, and he finally lost his air in an involuntary gasp of pain. A boom sounded, and the floor pitched and heaved. He kept running anyway, almost crashing into the drawbridge. He thrust his shoulder against it and heaved, not bothering to fiddle with the control panel at the side.

  Fortunately, it gave way, chains clacking as they loosened, lowering the drawbridge. He flung himself out before it was fully down, stumbled off the end of it, and dropped into the sand. He yanked his helmet off and breathed deeply, tired of the damn alerts. He flopped back onto the sand. If he was going to die, he would rather do it in peace.

  Several minutes passed as he lay there, looking up at the stars. The inside of his throat itched, and his skin burned where the breaches in his suit were, but his lungs didn’t seize up, and his heart didn’t stop. He gradually allowed himself to believe he had escaped without taking in a lethal amount of the poison. The back of his shoulder hurt more than any of the rest of him, the spot where that beam had caught him in the end. His armor would need to spend a week in its repair case.

  He laughed to himself. But he was alive.

  Footsteps sounded, and then a shadow blotted out the stars, Leonidas’s armored head and shoulders.

  “You alive?” Leonidas asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jasim said, his voice hoarse. He felt like he’d been screaming for hours and thought wistfully of an Asteroid Icy and how nice the dessert would taste and feel trickling down his throat. “Did you see… ah, did the gas get him?”

  Leonidas nodded. “He knew he was in trouble and made it out of his walking tank, but not out of the garage. I didn’t have to do anything. His own gas got him.”

  Jasim couldn’t manage a triumphant fist pump or anything like it, both because he was tired and because it didn’t feel like a victory. When he’d been talking to the kid, he had been trying to distract him and not much more, but he’d meant what he said at the end. He was sorry, sorry for the people he’d killed for an emperor he barely knew and sorry that politics and governments hadn’t worked to keep the system out of war to start with. All those smart people sitting in their offices, and nobody had been able to figure out a way to peace that didn’t involve the deaths of millions. Memories of Banding dying on that stone table came to mind, and he wondered if this was truly over, or if his people would be targets again.

  At least for now, it was over.

  “I destroyed the poison and the distribution drone,” Leonidas said.

  “Good. How was your walk out? Did you appreciate that I’d triggered all the traps for you?”

  “I did. My armor was already beaten up.”

  “Mine too. I doubt my case will be able to repair everything,” Jasim said. “If this had been a job and we were repossessing something for my employer, he would be covering my repair bill. I suppose I’m on my own here.”

  Leonidas looked back into the compound. “Maybe there’s a lien on the walking tank somewhere.”

  Jasim grunted. “I doubt it. That looked homemade. By someone who expected cyborgs to come visit him someday.”

  “We could sell his comic books.”

  “Are you making jokes, sir?” Jasim felt too bleak to try.

  “Probably not well. I don’t have the knack for it that my wife does.” Leonidas lowered his hand. “Are you ready to go back?”

  Jasim thought that lying in the sand for a while—perhaps the rest of the night—sounded just fine, but even after all they’d been through, he didn’t want to whine or appear weak to his old commander. He grabbed his helmet, accepted the hand, and let Leonidas pull him to his feet.

  “You did well,” Leonidas said, shifting his grip to Jasim’s shoulder. “And if it matters, I trusted that you would.”

  Jasim met his eyes through his faceplate, ashamed that he’d almost fled when his suit had been breached, had almost left Leonidas to fend for himself. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed, even though it might have cost him his life. No words or trusts had been broken. He nodded, to Leonidas and to himself. “Thank you, sir.”

  Leonidas lowered his hand and looked toward the sky.

  “Should we walk back to the cantina, or should I call Maddy?” Jasim asked.

  “It’s your choice. I enjoy an invigorating walk.”

  Jasim bit back a groan. Hadn’t Leonidas been invigorated enough? Hells, he’d run half the way out here a
s it was.

  “If we walk, she’ll probably have time to finish your hat,” Jasim said. “With all of its tassels.”

  “Maybe you should comm her to get us now.”

  “I think that’s best.”

  Epilogue

  Jasim sat in the co-pilot’s seat as Maddy flew him and Leonidas out of Dustor’s atmosphere and into space. He eyed the mostly finished hat sitting in the knitting basket, but didn’t ask about its progress. The tassels, looking like a very colorful octopus’s tentacles, were alarming, and were those balls dangling at the ends? Jasim was fairly certain Leonidas hoped Maddy wouldn’t have time to complete it before they dropped him off at Starfall Station, their rendezvous point with his freighter. Little did Leonidas know that Maddy continued to pilot because she enjoyed it, not because she needed the money—that meant she could afford to send packages across the entire system if she needed to.

  Leonidas came into the hatchway behind them, resting his hands on the jamb as he gazed over Maddy’s head and to the stars on the view screen. His armor was stashed away in its case, repairing itself the best it could. Like Jasim, he would need to visit a smith before his next battle. Unlike Jasim, he probably had the money to pay for it easily. Jasim hoped he would still have a job when he checked in later with The Pulverizer, though something about this whole adventure, or perhaps misadventure, had left him ready to go look for new work. Meaningful work. Work where his actions would help people, or at least never cause them to want to avenge themselves upon him and those he cared about.

  “I received several messages while we were downside,” Leonidas said.

  “About what?”

  “Many of our former colleagues got my warnings and offered to drop everything to come help us.”

  Our colleagues. Jasim felt heartened that Leonidas considered him a colleague, not some former subordinate with the appeal of gum stuck to the bottom of his boot.

  “I believe the expression is better late than never,” he said.