Tempus Regit

by Edmund Hughes

  “I’m sorry, Vivian,” he said. “Look, I didn’t love Trevor. That’s just the truth of it. But he was my brother.”

  “Is that supposed to be enough for me?” she asked.

  “You were his fiancée,” said Archer. “Granted, Trevor and I were practically strangers to each other for the past few years, but if the two of you had gotten married, you would have been my sister in law.”

  She didn’t say anything to that.

  If I can bring this home, maybe I can start over with her.

  “I’m not going to betray you,” said Archer. “And for the record, I never betrayed Trevor either. Our history, the assassination attempt, all of it was… exaggerated. Probably by the media channels.”

  His explanation was the true exaggeration. Archer knew from the interviews he’d seen that Trevor had been the one pushing the narrative of the assassination attempt. Then again, he’d given his own interview, and seen how the press could twist it into something else.

  “You’re saying that you think we should be friends now,” said Vivian. “Really? Just like that?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “I’m telling you that you can do what you want, treat me however you want. You’re my sister in law, essentially. I will put up with you, Vivian, because that’s the kind of brother that I really am.”

  She was quiet, and it was hard for Archer to get a read on her through the armor skin. Her shoulders relaxed after a couple of seconds, and then she shook her head.

  “Whatever,” she said. “Neither of us have a choice in this. I will train you, but please. Don’t bring up Trevor with me, ever again.”

  Archer nodded. From the periphery of his vision, Trevor slowly walked out. He set a hand on Archer’s shoulder and smiled at him, the expression cold and hard on his face.

  “Don’t ever touch her, ever again,” whispered Trevor. ‘Don’t fight her. Don’t fuck her. Don’t touch her.”

  Archer didn’t reply.

  CHAPTER 21

  Miraculously, Trevor stayed in the background as Archer followed Vivian toward the training weapons. She pulled a long, two handed sword off the wall and passed it to him.

  “It’s a Frequency Claymore,” she said. “The ones we use in training have blunted edges and no vibration mechanism, but otherwise they work the same.”

  Archer nodded slowly, though he had a half dozen questions burning on the tip of his tongue.

  This feels more medieval than modern.

  “You’ll be taking a frontline role,” said Vivian. “Generally, Metal Knights work in pairs of two, with the seventh being Lieutenant Bart, who takes on leadership in full encounters.”

  “Alright,” he said. “Simple enough.”

  He gave the Frequency Claymore a gentle swing. It was a massive weapon, the blade as broad as Archer’s hand and easily five feet long. It had a mirror sheen to it, and the edge gleamed as though it had been reinforced with diamond dust.

  The hilt was made of titanium and fit tightly into the bottom of the blade. The length of the hilt was not meant for ease in dueling with other swords but for maneuverability. Both of his hands could grip the black metal handle with room to spare.

  “Do you know why it is that we use melee weapons against the fabricants?” asked Vivian.

  “Uh…” Archer hesitated. He knew part of the answer, the part that explained why the armor skins were necessary to begin with.

  The Rogue AI had a complete monopoly on air and space travel, to such a degree that the ICBMs that dictated the nature of conflict centuries ago were now a relic of the past. Archer knew that the Rogue’s orbiting satellite network could shoot down any missile attack as soon as it got above a certain height, but that didn’t explain why regular firearms would be ineffective against fabricants on the ground.

  “Our enemies have a type of shield that we still don’t fully understand,” said Vivian. “It’s a form of adaptive cloud nanotechnology that makes them almost impervious to low mass projectile attacks. We call it the ‘fingers’.”

  Archer nodded, and then furrowed his brow as a new question came to him.

  “What about grenades, though?” he asked. “Or hand operated missile launchers? Ones that wouldn’t rise high enough to trigger the satellite defenses?”

  “Good question,” said Vivian. “The fingers are also capable of countering them. For basic bullets, the nanocloud appears to just divert their path before they reach their target. Any explosives we launch or throw at them either explode prematurely, sometimes damaging our own people, or never go off at all, as their fingers can get inside them and disarm them.”

  “Alright,” said Archer. “I get it. A heavy, two handed sword might seem like a primitive weapon, but it’s the perfect counter to something like that.”

  “Exactly,” said Vivian. “The Frequency Claymore has an electric current running through it, along with a small vibrational motor that makes the blade hum in a way that makes it hard for the fingers to engage. You can get through the shield of a fabricant with the claymore and deal damage. But as I said before, we work in teams of two.”

  Vivian pulled another weapon off the rack, this one looking like an exaggerated version of an assault rifle, jet black and made of smooth metal.

  “This is the Directional Laser,” she said. “You won’t usually be carrying one of this size, as your primary weapon will be the Frequency Claymore, but we’ll still train you with it.”

  “A laser gun…” said Archer. “And that can damage the fabricants, too?”

  Vivian nodded.

  “It’s not effective at getting through the fingers while they are focused on shielding, but if you attack with two soldiers, one engaging at melee range and one using a laser, you can get direct hits with it.”

  She didn’t immediately move to pass the training weapon over to him, instead lifting it to her shoulder and aiming it at the dummies on the other side of the training area.

  “We keep the training lasers from operating at full voltage, for obvious reasons,” she said. “It will take you some time to get used to the differences between one of these and a rifle that fires standard bullets.”

  “I’ve never fired a rifle,” said Archer. “Or any gun, for that matter.”

  She looked at him with surprise, and a bit of contempt, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she looped her armor skinned finger through the trigged and pressed down.

  Instantly, a beam of energy filled the space between her and her target. Vivian’s body remained stationary as the red beam hovered over a single point. It reminded Archer of one of the laser sights that action heroes had on their weapons in the old time movies that sometimes played on the public TVs in the coal district.

  A small fire burst into existence at the point of contact on the training dummy. Vivian took her finger off the trigger and the flame smoldered itself out. She looked over at him, and it was almost as though she could see his expression through his helmet.

  “It will take you some time to get used to,” she said. “It isn’t just about having good aim. The Directional Laser requires focus, balance, and fine muscle control under pressure.”

  “Well,” said Archer. “Makes me glad I’ll mainly be using the claymore.”

  Vivian’s shoulder’s fidgeted slightly, as though she’d just suppressed a chuckle. The moment didn’t linger, however, and she traded the laser out for a second Frequency Claymore, walking over to a clear space in the center of the training area and motioning for Archer to follow.

  “Keep a tight hold on it,” said Vivian. “You can feel the hilt through the hands of your armor skin, but the sensation can sometimes be misleading.”

  “I can hold a sword,” said Archer.

  Vivian whirled, swinging her Frequency Claymore in a fast, punishing arc. Archer brought his up to block and watched in stunned silence as the sword was torn from his hand by the strength of her attack.

  Okay, maybe not.

  There was something smug
about Vivian’s posture as she watched him walk to collect the claymore. Archer took her advice, squeezing the sword’s handle harder than he thought he needed to. They repeated the exercise a second time, and then again after that until Vivian seemed content with his basic hold on the weapon.

  “Are we going to keep practicing against each other like this?” asked Archer.

  She shook her head.

  “As I said before, the fabricants don’t usually defend through blocking attacks,” she said. “They mostly dodge and use their fingers to counter. What I will teach you is how to move and flow with the claymore. It’s different than attacking with the expectation of your blow catching against the sword of your opponent.”

  “What can the fabricants do with the fingers offensively?” he asked.

  “Against an unprotected human, they can kill,” she said. “Almost instantly, sending the nanocloud into their brain, murdering from the inside out.”

  The anger in her voice was raw and powerful. Archer didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

  “Against us, in armor skins, the fingers work more like their name would suggest,” she said. “They can take solid form, armoring the fabricants, or creating bludgeoning weapons for them to use.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Archer.

  “They are far more formidable than you could ever imagine,” said Vivian. “And… well, you’ll see for yourself, soon enough. They are not comprehensible in the same way human opponents would be.”

  Archer didn’t ask any further. Vivian moved on with his training, teaching him first how to move with the Frequency Claymore, spins, rolls, and basic jumps. The weapon could also be attached firmly to a holster on the back of his armor skin when he wanted to free up his hands.

  She led him through the basic swings and attacks with the sword, explaining through movement instead of words. It was all about keeping the momentum of the blade going, rather than the feints and blocks that Archer would have expected to use in a sword fight.

  Vivian moved with an easy grace that made the armor skin and Frequency Claymore look like extensions of her body. Despite his frustration with her personality, Archer couldn’t help but recognize the gorgeous beauty of her combat flow. It was like a dance, rather than blunt, killing movements. It was a performance, and Archer could picture her as the queen of the stage, entertaining an audience to sensual, ambient music.

  Archer, in comparison, felt slow and sluggish. He could move well enough outside of the armor skin, but he still hadn’t adjusted to the nature of it yet. The sensation that the artificial nervous system gave him of his extended body was helpful, but it didn’t account for the places where the joints had limitations that weren’t there in the flesh.

  Vivian was a good teacher, though it was clear from the reserved way that she watched and critiqued him that he was falling short of her expectations. She had a sharp tongue, and here and there, Archer would see flashes of hot headed, irrational anger.

  I can’t blame her for it. She lost her fiancé this week, and now has to train me.

  “Keep your head to the side!” yelled Vivian.

  Archer shrugged his shoulders at her.

  “What?”

  “When you drop into a roll,” she said. “Don’t try to tuck your head down straight on. You can still get a concussion, even with the helmet protecting you.”

  Archer nodded slowly, and gave it a try. He heard Vivian sigh over the speaker.

  “Like this.” She slowly demonstrated what she meant, twisting her body forward into a basic shoulder roll and keeping her head protected.

  “Okay, I see what you mean,” said Archer.

  Several hours went by in much the same way, Archer attempting various attacks and acrobatic maneuvers, Vivian impatiently correcting his technique. There seemed to be no end to what she had to teach him, and by the time early afternoon rolled around, Archer was exhausted and soaked in sweat. He was trying to get the hang of a spinning attack that carried forward into crescent kick and failing miserably at it, much to Vivian’s annoyance.

  “Why don’t the two of you break for lunch?” asked Ada, over the intercom.

  “He isn’t even close to being competent yet,” said Vivian.

  Archer scowled at her, though it was pointless, through the helmet.

  “You’ll have more time to continue with his training tomorrow,” said Ada. “He needs rest as much as he needs instruction.”

  “So be it.” Vivian turned and tossed her claymore across the training area. It landed in the holding rack, snug and exactly how it had been positioned originally. Archer didn’t even try to copy her.

  She might be a little hard to put up with, but she’s definitely talented.

  CHAPTER 22

  Trevor was standing behind Archer when he turned around and headed for the exit. His smug smile and self-assured posture was infuriating, but Archer didn’t say anything to his brother’s mirage, instead he just walked by him.

  “All of this training…” said Trevor. “It’s actually far more useful for killing humans then for killing fabricants."

  Archer remained silent. He was more than a little sweaty inside his armor skin, and really just wanted to get out of it.

  “Do you want you know why?” asked Trevor.

  Archer shook his head, but his brother had already begun to answer.

  “They don’t fight back,” said Trevor. “Not how you’d expect. It’s like they’re… curious about us, rather than threatened by us. They don’t see death the same way we do.”

  Archer had stopped walking, and just listened. He hated himself for wanting to hear more.

  “Little brother, they treat Tempus like it’s a zoo,” he said. “That makes sense, though, doesn’t it? If they really wanted to, they could just drop a nuke from above, over the walls. Or, attack us from all sides.”

  “That’s… crazy.” Archer felt suddenly claustrophobic.

  “Is it, though?” Trevor laughed. “What better place to turn into a preserve for humans than a city and its outlying regions? A habitat of our own creation, an ant hill for hominids.”

  It can’t be. There has to be more to it than that.

  “Archer, what are you doing?” asked Ada. Her voice was like a cold washcloth on the brow of his fevered head.

  “I’m on my way,” he said.

  Back inside, Archer left his armor skin with the techs and then headed to the locker room to change out of his undersuit. He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should knock and give Vivian advance notice. It seemed a little silly, however. They were both technically soldiers, even if he was still bad at upholding the protocol.

  He pushed his way into the locker room and almost immediately wished that he had knocked. The air was hot and humid from one of the showers. Vivian had left the curtain open, and though her body was mostly obscured by the steam from one of the showers, she was mostly naked. Archer stood, staring dumbly, until she finally turned his way and noticed him.

  “Have you never seen a naked woman before?” asked Vivian.

  “No, it’s just…” Archer blushed and glanced away. “I mean, I have, obviously, I just didn’t…”

  “Never one of my caliber, then?” asked Vivian, the humor clearly evident in her voice. “Don’t worry about it. It would only be embarrassing if you knew what to do with a woman like me. And you clearly don’t.”

  Archer glared at her. She was facing away from him, and he could clearly see her naked butt through the steam. It was fairly muscular, perfectly round, and arousing beyond all good reason. He took a slow breath and started pulling off his skin suit, deciding to change the topic to something a little less charged.

  “The fabricants,” he said. “What do they look like?”

  “You haven’t seen videos of them before?” asked Vivian.

  “I have, but… never any that were up close.”

  It was always blurry images on public TVs, and only for a couple of seconds at
a time.

  Vivian made a small noise. Archer looked over at her as he pulled on his boxers, getting a flash of the side of one of her rather large breasts.

  “They look like something out of a bad dream,” she said. “Their upper torsos look a bit like people, but with all the details rubbed off, and made of metallic clay.”

  Archer nodded. He remembered that much from what little he’d seen.

  “But their bodies,” he said.

  “Yes…” Vivian turned to face him, letting the steam do the job of covering her nudity. “Their bodies.”

  Archer had an erection, and wearing only his underwear, it was impossible to hide. He stood facing her, waiting for her to continue, discarding his shame, just like she had.

  “They look like centaurs, except with the bottom half of a scorpion, instead of a man,” said Vivian. “Their tails, as far as we can tell, are where they release the fingers from.”

  Archer had trouble picturing it, though he suspected it was in part due to Vivian’s nudity, on display in front of him. He could almost see hints of pink nipple through the steam, and she seemed to be enjoying the effect she had on him.

  “Thanks,” said Archer.

  “For what?” Her smile was amused and a little playful.

  “For being so… open, with me.”

  Vivian let out a surprised laugh and finally brought her arms and hands to cover herself. Archer finished pulling his clothes on in silence and headed back out into the armory.

  There was a small lounge area in the far corner of the massive room with tables, chairs, a fridge, and a microwave. Archer saw Leigh sitting there, waiting for him in street clothes, jeans and long sleeve white blouse, rather than the servant’s dress she usually wore around his apartment. She smiled and waved to him when she saw him coming over.

  “Hey,” said Archer. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I figured you could probably use some lunch,” she said, pulling out a brown paper bag. “And… I was also getting bored sitting around the apartment.”