Tempus Regit

by Edmund Hughes

  “The Ambassador isn’t going to…” Archer winced, trying to choose his phrasing carefully. “I don’t think he made it. We need to turn around, and-”

  “Wait!” Vivian pulled her hand from his and pointed. “There!”

  There were a number of small hillocks to the northeast of the city, and emerging from behind one of them were three soot covered figures. Archer stared at them in a mixture of disbelief and horror. His first reaction was to tell Vivian to turn the rambler around and drive away from them as fast as they could. He brushed it off, forcing the fear out of him.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Maybe we can… at least save someone.”

  She pulled the rambler up next to them. Archer motioned for her to stay where she was and hopped out to investigate. The survivors approached slowly, the one in front, a tall, lanky man, seeming more confident than the others.

  “Have you come from the other haven?” asked the man. He had an accent. Archer knew from a few TV shows set in Syprus that they spoke English differently, the distance having created separate cultures out of the cities.

  “Yes,” said Archer. “What happened here?”

  He glanced at the other two survivors, a younger girl maybe around fifteen, and an older woman who stood directly behind her.

  “What was meant to happen,” said the man. “This was not a place for people to live indefinitely. We knew we’d have to leave. We did, they didn’t!”

  Archer frowned. The man was clearly in shock. Vivian was listening from the rambler’s open window and gestured him over.

  “Take the girl and the woman,” she whispered. “I’m not so sure about bringing the man into the vehicle. He doesn’t seem to be of sound mind.”

  Archer shook his head.

  “We’re not leaving any of them behind,” he said. “We can’t.”

  He walked back over to the survivors before Vivian had a chance to disagree.

  “What happened?” he asked. He directed the question at the girl and the woman, rather than the man.

  “…Something happened,” said the woman. “An explosion in the wall. We tried to repair it. Maybe a day, two days went by. Then… the fabricants just started… rushing in. Like they’d been waiting for this.”

  She shook her head. The man stepped forward, evidently ready to start ranting again. Archer held up a hand to silence him and gestured for the woman to continue.

  “The haven is totally burned out,” said Archer. “How did that happen? And how did you three survive?”

  “It was night,” she whispered. “I worked as a guard in one of the underground farms, and I had her with me. There were two other men who escaped the destruction, but they went up to see what was going on and… never came back.”

  Archer nodded and then looked over to the man.

  “What about you?” he asked. “How did you survive?”

  The man was silent, and eerily still. Whatever bad feeling Vivian had gotten from him Archer now fully understood.

  We still can’t leave him here.

  He started to think of another question to ask when Vivian gave a shout. Archer turned, and saw something approaching that didn’t make sense.

  A humanoid shaped fabricant was heading toward them on foot. Archer had only seen hybrid fabricants before, with the strange half scorpion bodies that made them look so monstrous.

  The fabricant that stood before him now had human legs, but with the same four, oddly segmented arms as his hybrid cousins. His shell was smooth reflective metal, but segmented, almost like Archer’s own armor skin.

  “Get into the rambler!” he shouted. “Hurry, there’s no time!”

  He pushed the three survivors forward, hopping in after them. Archer didn’t have to tell Vivian to go. She immediately started driving, pulling a u-turn and heading back in the direction they’d come from.

  The humanoid fabricant was chasing after them. Archer couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he stared back at it. It wasn’t just chasing them, it was gaining on them.

  “Vivian!” he shouted. “Keep driving! I’m going to hold it off!”

  “Archer!” screamed Vivian.

  He’d had the good sense to keep his undersuit on below his clothes, so it only took him a couple of seconds to get ready. Archer climbed into his armor skin, watching the frightened survivors cowering in the corner.

  The rambler’s back door was still open, and after grabbing his Frequency Claymore, Archer flung himself out of it, ducking and rolling and feeling his armor skin absorbing the rough impact of his landing.

  The fabricant was already baring down on him as he pulled himself to his feet. Archer almost did a double take, noticing that it, too, had a sword now. He flashed back to the advice Ada had given him about never actually practicing sword to sword duels, and knew for certain that he was up against a new type of opponent.

  Not just a fabricant. A Knight Fabricant.

  The Knight Fabricant spun its sword, a weapon longer than Archer’s own claymore, and with serrated spikes jutting out at points along the blade. It passed it from hand to hand, making good use of all four of its limbs. Archer started breathing a little faster, feeling suddenly intimidated by his new opponent.

  He held his Frequency Claymore at the ready, and slowly advanced, figuring that he needed to get a sense of the Knight Fabricant’s actual combat capabilities. He feinted forward with a strike intended to test the monster’s reflexes. The Knight Fabricant swung its sword into a block so smooth that it almost seemed like it had been expecting it.

  Archer stared into the face, or what would have been the face, of his opponent. Its eyes were black and beady, and it had no mouth, and made no expression. Its head was as smooth as a bald doll, which made it look alien and wrong in combination with the rest of its body, which was segmented like an insect’s carapace.

  The Knight Fabricant moved forward, feinting just as Archer had before twisting into a reverse slash. Archer caught the attack with his Frequency Claymore, and for a split second, the two of them pushed against each other, the fight turning into one of brute strength. Then, the Knight Fabircant’s extra hands closed around the grip of his weapon, pushing forward and knocking him off balance.

  Fear surged through Archer’s chest as he fell. He hit the ground and immediately rolled backward, dodging a downward, killing strike by only a couple of inches. A cloud of dust emanated from the point of impact, some of it scattering across Archer’s view screen and spoiling his view.

  He was back on his feet not a moment too soon, blocking two more strikes from the fabricant, both nearly strong enough to tear his weapon from his grip. A furious exchange passed between them, weapons clashing and hacking together. Archer knew he was outmatched, and any mistake would mean certain death. He fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, lacking any other option.

  The Knight Fabricant parried one of Archer’s overhead strikes, feinted as though to throw a counter, and then kicked him squarely in the chest. Archer felt himself flying across the ground. He hit hard, feeling the impact through the armor skin’s nervous system. The Knight Fabricant closed the distance between them in easy, confident strides.

  YOU ARE MY PREY. BE THANKFUL TO HAVE BEEN GIVEN THIS CHANCE. TAKE PRIDE IN YOUR EFFORTS.

  The fabricant’s voice came from inside Archer’s own head. He knew it for what it was, and didn’t doubt its veracity for an instant. It was moving, pulling its sword up overhead, preparing for what would be the killing strike. Archer felt suddenly abandoned, alone in the armor suit, fighting for his life.

  The rambler exploded into view and slammed into the Knight Fabricant in the same moment. Archer saw the monster tumble across the vehicle’s windshield and then into the air, flailing for purchase, its sword stripped from its hands. Vivian skidded to a stop fifty feet away from him. Archer was already sprinting toward the back door before it had opened.

  The Knight Fabricant landed hard, but Archer knew that it was still alive. He didn’t look bac
k again until he’d pushed his way into the back of the vehicle. It was slowly standing, using its sword to prop itself up in a gesture that seemed a little too human.

  “Go!” shouted Archer. “Go fast!”

  Vivian did.

  CHAPTER 38

  Archer slipped out of his armor skin and joined Vivian in the front cab. She didn’t say anything for a long while, her silence reflecting the scattered nature of Archer’s own emotions.

  Is there even going to be a haven for us to go back to? Has Tempus been destroyed, too?

  “It will be okay,” he said. “We don’t know anything yet.”

  “There was… nothing left,” said Vivian.

  Archer winced. He glanced over his shoulder at the three survivors. They seemed to be in their own little worlds, the mother and the daughter separate from the man.

  “They didn’t have what we have,” said Archer.

  Vivian glared at him.

  “And what do we have?” she asked. “If they attacked while we were gone, what did Tempus have to protect it? The Watchers? Bart, a single battered and broken Metal Knight?”

  Archer set his hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “Just focus on the driving. We’ll find out what’s going on when we get back, and not a moment sooner.”

  The trip was arduous. It felt as though it took ten times longer to make the trip back than it had out, even though they knew their route, and didn’t make any stops. Archer and Vivian were silent for most of it, both toward each other and toward their passengers.

  Archer thought of his mother, and felt old fears resurfacing. He’d worried for her, back when she’d first fallen ill, and after his father had died. He’d always feared that something would happen to her in the facility while he had his back turned. Now, after what he’d seen in Syprus, she was vulnerable anywhere, whether he was around or not.

  He thought of Leigh, as well. It tore at him that he hadn’t gotten a proper chance to say goodbye to her. He chastised himself for thinking that way, as though he’d already written off an entire city for dead. So Archer pushed the thoughts out of his mind, but the silence pushed him to start the cycle over again, worrying, imagining the worst case scenario.

  They drove through the afternoon and evening without stopping. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing on the horizon when they finally drew close enough in their approach to see the city in the distance.

  Tempus was still standing. No smoke, no fires, no sign of any externally inflicted destruction. Archer and Vivian both let out sighs of relief and grinned at each other. Vivian drove the rambler to the hidden release doors and radioed headquarters.

  “Ada, we’re back,” said Vivian. “We’re outside the exit door. We need to report on what happened immediately.”

  There was no reply, but after a couple of seconds, the door began to open. Vivian carefully drove the rambler inside, the metal shutters starting to close almost before she was all the way through. She drove the last stretch slowly, bringing the vehicle to park a short distance away from the elevator.

  “We’re here,” Archer said to the refugees. “You’ll be safe now.”

  The man chuckled.

  “There is no safety anywhere,” he said. “It’s all the same. And it all ends the same.”

  Archer frowned, dismissing his words as the ramblings of someone still in shock. The five of them took the elevator up to the compound.

  Immediately after stepping out onto the main floor, Archer could tell something was different. He only recognized half the techs moving around the armory, and Ada was nowhere to be seen. Vivian shot him a look, clearly thinking the same thing.

  Just what the hell is going on? Why is this all happening at once?

  Overseer Tensmoth walked out of Ada’s office, frowning at them as he made his way down to ground level. Archer suppressed the urge to glare at the man, knowing that it made no sense to jump to a conclusion before he had any answers.

  “Your former captain has been stripped of rank and command,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “She refused a direct executive order.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” asked Archer.

  Tensmoth glared at him.

  “Exactly what I said. Now, give me a report on your mission.”

  Archer stared at the man, stunned, but knowing that there were more pressing issues than Ada’s current state of employment. Vivian got the words out before he could.

  “Syprus has fallen,” she said, softly. “These… were the only ones left.”

  Overseer Tensmoth frowned and shook his head.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Vivian shook her head, as though what little she’d said was all she’d be able to say on the subject. Archer ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

  “The city was destroyed,” he said. “Totally… destroyed. There were these three survivors, and nobody else. It looked like-”

  “That’s not possible!” bellowed Overseer Tensmoth. Several techs stopped to look in their direction. The Overseer scowled and glanced around for a moment.

  “Sir,” said Archer. “It’s the truth.”

  The Overseer just shook his head.

  “Vivian,” he said, sharply. “You’re the new acting commander of the Metal Squad. Speak of this to nobody. Take these people to Karen. Make sure she knows that they are to be kept there.”

  Vivian hesitated for a moment, and then saluted. Archer wasn’t sure what to think, or how to feel. The Overseer gestured for him to follow and led him up to Ada’s office. He sat down in Ada’s desk as soon as Archer had closed the door and steepled his fingers.

  “Explain,” said Overseer Tensmoth.

  Archer shook his head.

  “I don’t know what else there is to explain,” he said. “There’s nothing left. All of Syprus is just… gone.”

  “Did they expand out, beyond their walls?” asked Tensmoth. “You mean their outlying farms, and mining stations, those were gone?”

  “The city is gone,” said Archer. “And everybody who was still inside it… is dead.”

  The Overseer’s face finally seemed to shift into comprehension, though he still held skepticism in his eyes. He raised a finger and waved it at Archer.

  “We don’t have any records of any of the havens falling,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “This would be the very first. This would be… a historical event. Are you absolutely sure of what you’re telling me?”

  Archer grimaced and gave a small, slightly reluctant nod.

  “Speak of this to no one,” said Tensmoth.

  Archer frowned.

  “What?” He shook his head. “People need to know. We need to start considering if and how it could happen here.”

  “You will speak no word of this,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “We will continue on as if things were normal until your… claims, can be verified.”

  Archer could only stare at the man.

  “You don’t believe us,” he said, incredulously. “This puts all of Tempus at risk.”

  “Will you follow the order I’ve given you?” asked Tensmoth.

  Archer considered, and then shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I won’t do it. I’ll go straight to the press, if I need to.”

  “I control the press,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “Rachel Madison? She reports to me. The entire reason she was so willing to go above and beyond her job with you the other day is because of an order I gave her.”

  “…What?”

  “She’ll claim that she was raped,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “And I have more leverage over you than just that.”

  Archer felt cold rage spreading through him, all the way out into the tips of his fingers.

  My mother. If I refuse to toe the line, she’s the obvious target.

  “Why?” asked Archer. “This is only going to hurt the city. People need to know…”


  “People need to go about their lives,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “People need to feel safe. And wild rumors do nothing but create fear and distrust.”

  Archer didn’t have anything else to say. He stood there silently until Overseer Tensmoth waved his hand to dismiss him. He reluctantly saluted and then left the office.

  Outside the North Compound, he walked back to his apartment. It was midevening, and there was something terrifying about the darkness, only pushed back by lamplight in places along the street.

  He made it up to his floor, unlocked the door to his apartment, and headed inside. Leigh was lying on the living room couch and jerked awake as he came inside. Her face flashed through a number of different emotions, finally settling on a mixture of shame and concern.

  “Archer,” she said. “I mean, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here… when you left.”

  Archer sighed and moved to sit down next to her. She had on a thin nightgown, and that was it. Her presence soothed him, but it also hurt to see her, a reminder of another person he had to protect against an impossible threat.

  “Leigh,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  “What’s wrong?” She took his hand into hers. “Archer, what is it?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Everyone is at risk,” he said. “And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if anything I can do would even be enough. I’m not…”

  I’m not Trevor. I’m not a smiling, confident hero.

  Leigh cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him. Archer felt himself pulled in by her touch, and fell forward on top of her, across the couch.

  CHAPTER 39

  The two of them moved together, picking up right where they had left off several mornings earlier. Archer was kissing her deeply. Leigh pulled his shirt up and over his head. He slipped out of his jeans and boxers, moving against her, their bodies meeting and melding together like two matching pieces.

  She kept one of her hands in his hair, on the back of his head. It was as though she was trying to make their intimacy mean more, represent something bigger. She wanted to send her love, or whatever she felt for him, into his very soul, to give him the confidence he needed to stand in the face of whatever was coming.