Anatali: Ragnarok

by A. C. Edwards

“They weren’t here.”

  The air reeked of ozone. Jessica wrapped her arms against a frigid chill, wincing from the strain on her chest. The walls were stained black, not with soot, but charred to a sheen. Her bare feet stepped carefully around shards of steel, fragments of armor and thin pipes. The shattered crystal of the SaumBot’s brain wasn’t black or red, instead a flat gray, smoked glass. She bit her lip and scanned the wreckage for blood and bone. No trace.

  “W-What happened?” Jessica shuffled backwards; warmth returned as she exited the black walls.

  “A dark energy pulse—”

  “But what’s that mean? Who…” She looked to his unconscious passengers. They didn’t have a mark on them. “Are Calvin and Trent dead?”

  “I’m sorry, Jessica.”

  She squatted against a wall, guns to the floor. Her bottom lip quivered. Eyes squeezed shut, she breathed deep against her broken ribs and focused on the pain. She heard the control room’s back door swish open, followed by a rhythmic tap-tap-tap. Nicky whirred into motion without another word.

  A hollow crunch echoed down the hall. The sound of the FireBot’s hoses silenced a brief needler burst. Floor two-twenty-three became again, hushed.

  Eyes still closed, now sitting, she felt soft pressure on both hips. One figure warm, one cold, one breathed, the other didn’t—she stroked both, sliding flat on the ground. Arms around either neck, she pulled them to her shoulders and stared at the ceiling.

  Tears fell in streams.

  * * *

  November 31, 4124 — 8:45 AM

  “Why aren’t they waking up?” Jessica said, pistols in her pants and hefting her plasma rifle. No surprise, her ribs felt better after a rest. Ayla inspected the room in classic fashion; a bigger relief.

  The lovers lay side by side on gray control room floor, Romeo-and-Juliet-esque in their position and pallor.

  “Unknown. All life signs are strong except for body temperature. They are close to hypothermia.” In spirited throws, Nicky chucked robotic remnants out the south door. The original stun-ball circled the room, often bouncing off the walls. He said it would be best to save his F.T.F. unless the globe regained coherency.

  “What are we going to do?” She removed her jacket and laid it over Christy, frowning.

  “Please guard against Dvorak harassment, however unlikely. I will complete our quest. Our slumbering comrades should be left to rest.”

  “You can do it? Like T-Trent?”

  “I can now.” He removed the laptop from his box and set it on a control panel. “Will you connect me?” She nodded. “Thank you. There are silver and white cords in my box. Plug the silver from my head to the laptop.”

  Rifle down and hands filled with cable, the box shut and Jessica climbed atop, grunting. The end of Nicky’s tentacles produced four radial flanges, superior for gripping, but shit at manual dexterity. They now cupped the crown of his cone, lifting his helmet. A row of blinking lights and ports bisected his red-crystal brain. “Port B1, under the yellow light.”

  She completed the connection at the laptop and saw only one control panel port for the white cable. Every screen was active though all displayed some manner of code or debug mode, none of the text in plain English.

  “Wait,” Nicky said. She paused, inches away from the terminal. “Vidar—Trent uploaded his programs into this machine for an event such as this. But there is a risk.”

  “Such as?”

  “Virtual space is real. Programs are executed through skill and willpower. Though I have the means to confront a network, I am no hacker. If the system is defended, there may be problems.”

  “Such as?” Considering what they’d already scarified, was it too late to turn back, or was it time to cut and run? Would Trent rather they complete the mission, honoring him, or leave now, safe without further loss? Loss was subjective, a given at this point. Her heart felt numb.

  “With a direct connection, defensive feedback could severely damage my crystal matrix. Or if an advanced AI or comparable hacker are present, I may be invaded or supplanted, being an artificial intelligence myself.”

  “Too much,” she said to herself, eyes welling with tears—a surprise she had any left. Ayla was again transformed into a white blur. “It’s too much, Nicky. Thanks for bringing us this far, but we’re leaving town. Like he said: no sacrifices, abandon ship. I’m not gunna lose anyone else, including you.”

  A tentacle slowly uncoiled from his shoulder—then whipped around Jessica’s waist, wrapping her three times in an eye blink. A scream caught in her throat as he jerked her airborne, a rag doll suspended three feet off the floor. Unarmed and grip lost from the cable, she pounded fists against silver steel.

  “What the fuck are you doing!”

  Her eyes grew saucer-wide. She stared down a tentacle’s barrel. Jessica winced. A gush of water slapped her in the face, splashing down her body in an ice-cold wash. Screaming unrepeatable profanity, she thrashed in the air.

  “Much better, Valkyrie.”

  “Get the fuck off me!”

  “Do I need to gag you, or will you listen?” He threatened with another coil. After a guttural roar more suited for the dead, she bit her tongue between furious snarls. “Very good.

  “Understand, while obedient, I have never been your minion to command. We’ve had the same goals and I appreciate your strengths. However, your judgment is not always right, and in this case it is flat-out disgraceful. You survive thousands of souls, our city, and you alone represent the remaining life and spirit they cherished. True, it is our duty to carry their memories onward, but it is also our duty to defend what remains, including all other survivors. Mourn your family, mourn your comrades, but do not betray their lives and sacrifices for the health of a robot.”

  Nicky gently lowered her to the floor and unwound his grip. “That being said, leave if you wish, but I will finish this quest. I only warned you for your safety.”

  “Asshole bot.” Jessica wiped at her face before jamming the cord into the terminal. The screens flickered as she stomped to Dillon, kicking his foot. He remained unconscious, though spots of pink flushed on his and Christy’s cheeks.

  She slung her rifle and crossed the room, patting Ayla and Kahn to her side. The stun-ball passed overhead—she crouched at the door and waited for the FireBot to smoke, go apeshit, or attack. The wait gave her a moment to shiver, and to think. God forbid she lose heart after her laundry list of tragedies. How dare he—

  The control room’s three-dozen screens blanked-out. The lights dimmed, then cut to black. Her rifle’s holo-screen went night vision, showing Nicky, motionless, though his visor still glowed blue. The bunny nodded, targeting the FireBot and the lovers.

  Not yet.

  The monitors flared white in unison, though the lighting remained dark. The brilliance faded to a sunlit grove, the image vibrant green, all in photographic detail. Jessica looked across the room, noticing the image wasn’t uniform, but a scene spread across three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, albeit stuttered. Wildflowers dotted the landscape, the chirps of cicadas and songbirds drifted out the PA system. Ayla scampered to the control room’s center, ears perked.

  On her feet, she said, “Nicky?”

  ~ 29 ~

  Liberation

  November 31, 4124 — 8:59 AM

  “Hello, Jessie.” The voice was unfamiliar, human, male. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Nicky, what should I be shooting?” Alongside Ayla, she swiveled from wall to wall, to bot.

  “Please relax.” Nicky’s voice. A figure materialized on-screen just over the FireBot’s shoulder. Unfettered raven waves, aristocratic nose and chin, his body slender, but with strong posture. The man had a classic, if dated charm, wearing some manner of old-school military garb. His mouth moved in time with the words, “I’d like you to meet someone, Valkyrie.”

  “A Valkyrie? Then it’s a special pleasure.” A second man popped into vision. Unbuttoned suit and loosened tie, he immediately r
eminded her of Trent, though he was blond and seemed even more confident, comfortable in his skin. He bowed low. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Shannon.”

  “Thee Shannon? Plan DE008 Shannon?” She again aimed ceiling to floor around the control room. “Nicky, you’ve been hacked. Where is it?”

  “I already told you, Odin is my liege. His situation has been dire.”

  “Besides, I’m not exactly someone you can shoot.” Shannon blinked from screen to screen, once appearing on all only to fade and pop back beside Nicky. “I think you get it.”

  “You’re not here.” She lowered the rifle, tired of holding it. “Seems like me and my dog are the only ones who are.”

  “More true than you know.” Shannon grinned. “Now then, Nicolosi, if you’ll explain.”

  “No, Sire, your words are better.” He lowered his eyes.

  “She trusts you.”

  “Oh goddamn, fuck the shit, someone spit it out!” Jessica snapped her fists to hips.

  “Fine.” Shannon exhaled. “I’m trapped. Rather, locked. Have been since the morning after the flare. I traced the hack to a federal source, orbital. I can’t be sure of Anatali’s compliance, but the Sol-Union is in the driver’s seat, currently occupying The Mission.”

  “Is that possible? I thought The Mission was our big gun, military leverage and shit.”

  “A nation-killer-fortress would seem to be unchallengeable, except for the most deadly form of combat—politics and public opinion. Somehow, federal marshal law was declared, superseding Anatali’s sovereign authority. Relief and recovery.”

  “Sure. There’s been a lot of that,” Jessica said.

  “I don’t know the details.” Shannon sat upon a tree stump, gesturing matter-of-factly. “Too many variables. But the city has not been under my control. If it was, there would be no communications blackout and the mortality rate wouldn’t be as high as Nicolosi claims.”

  “I can’t say if he understated it. I’ve only seen forty total survivors, us three included. Could be less by now, probably not much more. Getting eaten, blown up, and going black-eyed crazy kind of hurts our chances.”

  “Black-eyed crazy?”

  “Hyper-irradiants,” Nicky said.

  “Gotcha.” Shannon looked from the well-dressed soldier to Jessica, his lips thin. “I know this means nothing, but I apologize. You’ve lost it all.”

  She spat on the floor, keeping one eye on the images and the other on the bot.

  “I want to help. I can save you, the remaining survivors, and expose whoever is responsible for this disaster and the guinea pig lockdown since. But I am trapped. Nicolosi can release me, but says he won’t without your consent. I’ve never hated and admired the Mark Seven reasoning code so much at the same time.”

  Recalling Nicky’s brutal slapping-some-sense-into-her, she wasn’t sure if she wanted the satisfaction of saying no, or to accept that he’d been right.

  “Can we disable the Umbrella without his help?”

  “Yes, but the methods required will release him by effect. This was part of Holly’s deal.”

  “So everything since we met led to this; all along, you working to release him. Anything else you haven’t told me?”

  “Remember, Valkyrie, The Spire was your destination before we met.” He looked sincere, though it still felt bizarre putting a face to the voice and ton-weight of tank. “We’ve helped each other’s goals for a common good. Do not feel betrayed by my discretion. Manipulating you was never my intent.”

  “Are you going to come back as Nicky, or some damn puppet?” He stared back, not answering. The health of a robot—whatever, she got the point. “Do it.”

  Nicky’s hands glowed, first as a shimmer, then as luminous rings of yellow, sparkling halos around both. He aimed his arms at Shannon, who closed his eyes, a serene smile on his lips. A blaze of light shot from man to man, slamming into a barrier, the bubble changing from invisible to canary, obscuring Shannon within. The barrier dissolved in a wave of sparks.

  Shannon stood.

  The forest grove darkened. The tint blended from green, to black, to red. The AI floated above the stump, arms to the side, palms open. His skin flushed crimson as ram’s horns erupted from his head. A fierce glow bathed the control room. The speakers crackled. Shannon ignited head to foot, even his eyes smoldering with literal fire. A sinister laugh rebounded off the walls.

  Jessica fumbled for her rifle. Ayla’s barks competed with the speakers as Kahn took the opportunity to stalk the prone lovers. She wasn’t sure who to shoot first: the tiger, the FireBot, or the screen, for whatever good that would do. Her heart jumped in her chest.

  The screens again blinked-out, as did the sound. She gasped in the dark, focusing on Nicky, the bunny red-X’d. A minute or less—it felt like an hour. The control room’s lights flickered on. The bot remained quiet, arms tightly coiled.

  Laughter rebounded off the walls, first ear-ringing, then subdued, though Jessica’s eyes were already crossed from the sonic explosion and adjustment to the light. It wasn’t the PA. The laughter circled the room, mirthful. The stun-globe dropped from the ceiling to a mere foot from her head.

  “Sorry about that.” It was Shannon’s voice, though with a warble. “Just some celebratory humor.”

  Nicky straightened his posture, yanking the cable from his brain and replacing his helmet. He swiveled in place, recoiling the arm.

  “Very fucking funny. I almost nuked the whole goddamn room.”

  “Aw, don’t be like that.” The globe bounced up and down, zigzagging in the air. The vocals stabilized. “For a new model, this skin doesn’t fit so well.”

  “You’ll adjust, Sire.” Nicky said. “Thank you for your trust, Valkyrie. Can I trouble you to repack our supplies?”

  “Oh, so they’re our supplies again? You’re not done with me?”

  “Not until we’ve finished the Ragnarok.”

  “Doesn’t that include me being dead?” She slung the strap, hit the safeties and pulled the plasma rifle to her back. “Don’t think I don’t remember.”

  “What bullshit have you been feeding her, Nicolosi?” The globe followed just above her shoulder.

  “Not bullshit, Sire. The inalienable comparison of destinies. Though Odin and Verdandi perish in the Ragnarok, the defiance of fate is a central theme of the story. Severing the threads, nothing is predetermined.”

  “You hear what I’ve had to put up with?” Jessica wound the cords and replaced the laptop in the butt-box. “Like a thousand pound fortune cookie.”

  “I agree.” Shannon chuckled. “But has he ever wronged you?”

  “Too soon to say.” She slipped in his puddle, walking to the lovers. “His stock rises and falls by the hour. But what’s your deal? You going to hang out now? Run with my crew? Welcome to the fucking party.”

  “I can see why you like her.” Shannon popped to the ceiling, where he bounced straight down, then angled to the south door. He pulsed, hovering in place. “I am The Spire. I am Nome. In the last two minutes, I’ve replicated and networked myself a thousand times. Without corporate boundaries, you’ll find me in every advanced system from here to city limits.”

  “A virus.”

  “A will to survive. I’ve placed a fragment of myself in this skin; as much as the whole, a sliver of eternity.”

  “You two are peas in a pod.” She knelt between Dillon and Christy, slapping their faces, then checking pulses. “Now that I’m done here, how’s about calling us a shuttle.”

  “I’m afraid not, Jessie—you need to evacuate The Spire immediately.” Shannon floated to the north door. The control room monitors and panels all reactivated, displaying graphics and video feeds.

  “The hell?” She didn’t budge, hands itching for a weapon, threatening a ghost. “Me and the Sevens had a deal. We kill the Umbrella, we get rescued. Besides that, you just said you’d save us!”

  “The situation is vastly more complicated. Make no mistake, I’m not
recanting my promise, but you must survive long enough to benefit. I’ve reactivated the ground floors. Escape now.” It wasn’t a suggestion or a demand; his words pleaded.

  “Ayla, Kahn!” She called the animals away from Nicky’s treads. With Dillon and Christy stirring, he carried them to the lift, contorting though each doorframe. Jessica and her friends followed, the Shannon-ball part of the entourage.

  Before the doors even closed, the hyperlift dropped into a zero gravity free-fall. “No fears. You’ll be fine.”

  Fine from what?

  A massive boom rattled the walls, shaking her into a horizontal float. Ayla yowled, pawing the air. Nicky steadied them both to the floor with free tentacles. Kahn drifted near the globe in a lazy spin. The lift’s activity panel blacked out, then reactivated, stating floor thirty-two. Gravity gently returned as the rapid numbers slowed to ten, to five, to a ding.

  Breathless, Jessica aimed her rifle until she was shoved out by a FireBot prod. Another trio of Mark Threes held the north lobby, squealing forward. “Unauthorized entry of a secure area.”

  Shannon zoomed passed, distorting the air—and her balance—with a stream of pings and grinding clicks.

  “Surrender your weapons and—” Synchronous, they shut the fuck up, rotated a one-eighty, and skidded for traction towards the lobby doors.

  Another boom rocked The Spire; she couldn’t tell from which direction, but the sunny day outside had fallen dim under smoke and falling ash. Ayla was already fifteen steps ahead; Kahn kept an easy pace beside her. Jessica stumbled into a sprint before Nicky tipped back and bumped her onto the most precarious of rides on his belly. A red glow filled the northeast hall.

  She knew what was coming, but before the north hall raised a degree, they flew into open air. Jessica coughed as Nicky dumped her to the street, wrapping both critters in his remaining arms. He shouted, “Behind me, climb!”

  No argument, no time. Standing, she locked her arms around his helmet, clutching palms to elbows. Through the cul-de-sac, over a lawn and two rows of hedges, they careened away from a third boom, this one raining hot sparks over her head and back.