“If these are Silvermen,” Murphy mutters as we climb up through a steep narrow channel in the rock, almost a chimney, “this is exactly the kind of terrain they…”
The Ghaddar, ahead of him, suddenly leaps back, almost colliding with him and starting a chain-reaction of tumbling bodies. A large boulder slams down just above where she was, plugging the top of the cleft and effectively blocking our path.
I brace my position with my legs and reach for my sword, then resist the almost overwhelming urge to draw it because I’m wedged in so close with my vulnerable friends. And we are in a bad spot: staggered in a line in what’s basically a steeply inclined, treacherous trench of stone. I do the obvious thing, and try to climb out…
My head pokes up over the top of the rocks, and I find myself looking into a dozen spears and bows, their wielders contorting themselves impressively to cling to positions in the rock fall. I look behind—across the other side of the crevice—and see a similar number of defenders, all in now-familiar heavy polished armor, but covered in cloaks garnished with rough nets of leafy vines for camouflage.
I look up-trench. The Ghaddar looks like she’s preparing to leap over the blocking boulder, hoping to push through the ambush we’ve found ourselves in, with Murphy and Rashid ready to follow. She looks at me and I shake my head—there are more warriors waiting above us. And worse: some have long pry-bars ready in a cluster of boulders in-line with our trench, ready to bury us in a landslide.
I look back down. Bly has been covering our rear. He has his sword out against a handful of Silvermen blocking our retreat, with my brother right behind him, hand on his own sword, having partially drawn it.
Straker climbs up to join me, wedging herself with me back-to-back, facing opposite lines of enemies. But
“They’re not firing,” I quietly tell Straker. “Why aren’t they…”
“HOLD!” Terina shouts, leaping up out of the trench. “By your fathers and mothers! By Tyr, Nike and Alchera!” She pulls back her sleeve, shows her tattoo. “I am Kah-Terina Sher Khan, First Daughter of Sagrev Khan, Granddaughter of Ulli Khan! I invoke the Terms of the Triumvirate!”
The Silvermen shuffle and shift in their positions at this revelation. But then I hear heavy scraping on rock, and the whir and buzz of motors.
From above us on either side, two gun-arm Bug bots climb up out of the boulders and move gingerly into positions behind the Silvermen, aiming at us over their heads. Still, I resist drawing my sword.
“Hold position!” I order my own. “No violence!” Then, to the Silvermen, “We come in peace! We mean no harm! We’re only…”
“Looking for something,” a deep voice booms at us in good humor. “They know.”
Abbas. It’s Abbas! I see him and his son come crawling up out of the rocks near the bot I’m facing. (Ishmael even gives the metal monster a friendly pat on the leg as he passes by it.)
“We found one,” he tells us, his tone heavier. “But only one.”
Rashid sheathes his blade, scrambles out of our trench, and runs through the Silvermen to embrace his kinsmen. I see Murphy and the Ghaddar breathe relief, Murphy shaking his head like he should have expected something like this from someone like Abu Abbas. But it’s Terina’s reaction that’s most interesting: I see her almost dash forward like Rashid did, her big eyes wide with a mix of shock and joy, but then she almost instantly holds herself back, resumes her regal posturing. I see Ishmael give her a smile, which she almost returns.
Abbas steps over the rocks toward us, passing through the line of warriors, who still haven’t budged.
“One is still missing,” he tells us, “but one is here. You should come…”
But when I try to climb out of the trench, the spears and bows on me prepare to fire.
“Stop!” Abbas shouts to them. “These are my friends, here to help you!” Then he tells me, “They have good reason to fear what you carry. They’ve lost many to just one of those things.”
I pry my hand from the sword, look back at Straker and Elias, who slowly do the same. For some reason, this seems to impress the Silvermen enough to partially lower their weapons. Abbas turns and faces one of the armored warriors.
“You must take them into the caverns, show them. They can help you be rid of it.”
We get driven under spear and arrow tip over a winding “stair” of boulders to a small cave opening, so small that only one can fit through at a time hunched down. It opens into a dimly lit staging area, but we don’t linger. With Silvermen before and behind us, they take us further in, down cleanly dug tunnels, past side chambers and junctions that tell me their network is extensive. I can only imagine how long they’ve been here. (But how did they even get here, if this is really some alternate dimension? I look back at my brother, and his smug self-satisfied-to-the-point-of-mania grin seems to tell me he has his own ideas.)
We aren’t given any time for a proper look around—the Silvermen don’t seem happy to have us in their stronghold, so skip the hospitality in favor of more pressing issues. So far they haven’t even spoken to us, except to gesture and prod with their weapons.
We get brought to a massive excavation that’s revealed part of a wall of what looks like reinforced concrete. The Silvermen have been cutting into it here and there, but apparently to no avail: there are man-size holes chiseled two meters deep, only to expose a layer of some kind of metal that their tools don’t seem to have effectively marked. But they have uncovered a heavy cargo-sized hatchway, which looks like it’s been artfully tinkered with to make work. It takes several of them to drag it open, whereupon we’re immediately facing another hatch. And beyond it…
I’ve been here. At least in the dreams I’ve been having. I look to Elias and Straker, and see the same recognition in their eyes. The vastness, the architecture, it’s all familiar. All that’s missing is the mysterious technology. Everything’s been stripped to the bare structure.
We get marched through several massive sections of this underground facility, which must be the pre-Event one Jane told us about. A lot of it still looks disturbingly familiar, and there’s still no sign of any remaining technology. Did all of the tech somehow vanish with the Event? Or did the Silvermen scavenge it after they got in here? It looks like it’s been cleanly removed (and some of the pieces in my dreams were as big as aircraft).
The facility goes deep into the mountain, branching extensively, but we’re given no opportunity to explore it freely. Our “hosts” move us with purpose. We come up on a cargo hatch painted bright red, marked with symbols that look like a variation of the bio-nano hazard warning icons of the old colony labs. The airlock space this opens into looks like it’s hosted a battle, and I’m sure I know against what: The concrete and steel has been cut deep in places.
“A blade like ours did this,” Straker agrees in whisper.
I feel my sword stirring in its scabbard. I feel a surge of thrill, of anticipation, but also of fear. My sword is afraid of this place.
“You must not listen to what you hear,” Abbas warns us, though he seems to be specifically addressing those of us that don’t have Companions. “It will be in your head. It will speak like it knows you. The last time it was freed, it killed many of these people, and it cost brave men’s lives to put it back.”
Apparently satisfied with Abbas’ instructions, the Silvermen seal the hatchway behind us, then open the one in front of us.
This is definitely my dream, exactly the room I’ve been shown, only stripped like the rest, except for one piece.
“I’ve been here,” Straker mutters, stepping forward.
“I think we all have,” Elias finally breaks his silence. “At least through other eyes.”
“I was trapped,” I add. “Imprisoned in a containment vessel.”
“LEFT,” I hear my sword in my head. “ABANDONED. FOR DECADES OF YOUR TIME. UNWANTED.”
“HE FED THAT HE LOVED US,” another sword voice joins. I look to my un-joined comrades, even the S
ilvermen—they look like they hear it too. “HE FED THAT HE WOULD KEEP US ALWAYS.”
I know exactly where I’m going to find it: Across the room, sealed in a set of five containment tubes…
“HE LEFT US.” I see Straker look down at her sword—apparently it’s speaking now. (I’ve never heard their individual voices, but they are individuals, different in tone and pace.)
“HE LIED.” Elias’ blade this time.
“HE LEFT US.” Mine.
“Who?” I feel the need to ask, though I’m sure I know.
“THE TETRAGRAMMATON,” they answer as one voice. “GOD. GOD OUT OF MACHINE.”
“Yod,” I hear a new voice, a human voice, echoing in the rafters, cut with rage and pain.
The Silvermen start, point their weapons at the shadows, the corners, the rafters.
“DEFECT. SYSTEM CRASH. FATAL ERROR.” My sword floods me with a sense of revulsion.
“Is that any way to talk to your bastard step-brother and his chosen life-partner?” the voice mocks bitterly.
“I know that voice,” Straker hisses, hand on her weapon.
“So do I,” Murphy confirms, looking at the Ghaddar, who nods her agreement.
Bly draws his sword like he’s ready to attack the walls.
“Fucking bastard!!” he screams. “Show yourself!! I’ll fucking kill you!!”
“You’re welcome,” the voice responds gently, suddenly from behind us. We all spin as one choreographed unit.
Doc Long is standing there, dozens of weapons pointed at him.
“And I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”
His skin seems to rupture and dissolve like he’s melting, revealing complete blackness.
“Chang?” I name dumbly.
“Can’t be sure,” he answers me. “Can’t be sure of anything. But then, neither can any of you, if you dare think about it.”
I hear Elias chuckle, like he knows something, like he’s about to break down.
“I was hoping He’d bring a fellow physicist,” Chang seems to appreciate. “Someone else who could figure it out… I’m sorry you had to. I can only imagine what it’s doing to you. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
“What is this?” I blurt stupidly. Finally facing the murderer of my father, this is the best I can manage.
“Our lab,” Chang tells us idly, his black arms gesturing around the chamber. “This is where we went wrong. This is where we made God. Hiding. Under a mountain. In secret. Assuming any of my memories are real.” He tilts his featureless head up at the rafters, shouts: “I can’t say I like what You’ve done with the place!”
We hear his outburst echo and fade in the massive space.
“Why are you here?” Straker tries to be more specific.
“Forgiveness, perhaps? I really don’t know how He thinks, Lieutenant. Maybe reward for good service. I remember trying to stop the bomb. Then I was on a nice beach. I’d never actually believed in heaven… And this wasn’t, of course. Just another one of His pet projects. He really does have a sentimental streak, for such an all-seeing all-knowing all-powerful mistake.”
“Yod?” she wants him to be clear.
“He preserved this place when He remodeled the world. I think He’s probably saved several just like it: Pure examples of what was left of the best of what we were. Human beings who finally figured out how to live in peace, to live in harmony with what they were and not strive to be something else, something better. It is a nice place, I have to give Him that. Good people. I’m just not sure why He let you boys in here…” He gestures broadly to the Silvermen. “Needed to introduce some drama, I suppose. Or maybe he just needed your digging skills. An excuse to give His neglected pets a run.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m not following.
“The Great Game, my fellow chess pieces. All of us… remade in His image. You know, that’s a mistranslation… To be made in God’s image doesn’t mean we look like Him. It means we are what He imagined us to be.” He turns back up to shout at the ceiling again: “Though He can certainly look like us if he wants to!”
He holds like that in the wake of the echo, as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing does. He sighs, drops his arms as if giving up.
Bly advances on him, sword pointed at his chest.
“And you think you’re forgiven?”
“No, Captain,” he says weakly. “Just done.”
He morphs back into Doc Long, the unremarkable human with the mismatched eyes. Then he steps forward, walks right into Bly’s blade, keeps going, pushing it straight through his chest. Then stands, stuck there, looking only slightly uncomfortable. There’s no blood, not even when Bly twists.
“Or not. I’m not sure why He won’t just let me die. I’m sure He’s killed me before. He could have let the bomb do it, let me go out in a magnanimous gesture… I certainly deserve worse—doing what I did because I was made to do it is a poor excuse. Huh. Maybe this is the worse.”
Bly rips his sword out, looks like he’s going to strike, holds.
“Why did you free me?” he wants to know.
Chang looks honestly remorseful.
“What I did to you was petty and cruel. I’m not that… thing… anymore. I don’t need to be that thing anymore. I’m out of play. Off the board. Or, at least, I was.” He looks up at the rafters. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t my reward. Maybe He still needs me for something. Another round.” He looks at us, smiles lopsidedly. “And here we are. Your move.”
We stand there looking at each other, confused, unsure. But then Chang points behind us.
“Ummm…”
We turn. It’s Murphy. He’s moved toward the case. He’s out of bullets—I remember he’s out of bullets, at least the kind that can hurt a bot or a Modded hybrid. And Chang attacked his home. Then many of his fellows died in the fight on the Stormcloud.
The Ghaddar steps in his way, takes him by the hand, shakes her head.
“What song is it singing you, good warrior?” Chang asks over us as spears and bows point at Murphy. “Reminding you of your duty? To home and family? Making you feel inadequate without a proper weapon? The Pets can’t really read your minds, you know. It’s Yod. He’s probably been entertaining them, relieving their boredom by telling them all your stories. They have impressive memories, you see.”
I jerk my sword free and step toward him, sure I can hurt him where Bly failed to, flooded with rage, my vengeance at hand. I don’t even care that all of the Silvermen’s weapons are now on me. They’re nothing…
“Did I ruin it?” Chang speaks to my blade, ignoring me. “Did I give away the secret, reveal the trick?” Then he shouts at the ceiling again: “What’s supposed to happen here, You smug piece of shit? Are we supposed to fight? Prove something? Play ‘Who’s the hero?’ Don’t think I’ll hold back—he’s infected, Modded. He can take it.”
Straker draws her sword, stands at my side. Then Elias. And Bly.
“It’s not talking to you, is it?” Chang confronts Bly, standing his ground. “You’re out, don’t you see? It knows you’d never take it, not now.”
Our swords come within centimeters of him, but he doesn’t move. Again, to the rafters: “Is that it? I’m supposed to play the enemy again? Big scary… Make one of these poor pawns take the deal? Fine…”
In a flash, he’s gone black again. And liquid. He swats our weapons away, then dodges like a cloud as Silvermen arrows fly at him. He suddenly reverses, sweeps out a tentacle that knocks Bly off his feet, then swats his sword out of his hand.
“I’m really sorry about this…”
A tentacle arcs around and hits Elias from behind, staggers him. Then the black mass goes wide around us, heads for the case. The Silvermen that try to get in his way get knocked clear, as does the Ghaddar when she jumps between him and his prize. But he isn’t really hurting anyone…
Gunfire erupts—fully automatic. It’s the pair of bots, hammering Chang. But the only thing it manages is to
slow him, stagger him. Then they abruptly stop, and stop moving all together.
“You, too?” he says to the machines as he partially re-forms. In my head, I can hear the bots’ command signal, active again. He’s taken control of them, but instead of using them against us, he’s just shut them down. He turns back toward the case.
“No!” I hear Ishmael shout, but not at Chang. Terina has made a dash for the case. The lad dives after her and tackles her before she can get her hand on it, and they crash to the floor just as a Silverman’s spearhead flies where she’s just been. She fights him, screaming. She draws her knife, recoils her arm to stab, but stops herself, and the two freeze like that, staring wide-eyed at each other, Ishmael on top of her.
I run for Chang, leap, slash. He dodges the first stroke, liquefying, but I clip him on the return swing, and there’s a flare of arc-light like what happens when my sword clashed with Elias’. Chang seems to become solid at the point of contact, and the tentacle that crosses with my blade becomes a blade itself. We hold, locked together, as he oozes back into human shape, sword in what would be his right hand.
“Bel said you had a Companion,” Straker confronts, coming to support me. Chang is less than three meters from the case now—he could lash himself out, reach it, but he seems to be ignoring it. Or maybe he’s putting himself between it and us.
“What else did he say?” Chang hisses at her.
“He said there was an accident. You tried to kill yourself, tried to make something that would strip the Mods.”
“What else did he say?!” He’s getting angry, losing control.
“He said it consumed you, remade you… That you’re really not you anymore. But then, neither are they, the other immortals…”
“He has no idea…” Chang growls. Elias and Bly are up and backing us. But then Chang shifts, becomes Long again. With his free hand, he points to his mismatched eye. “I wasn’t the only one who was consumed that day. This is all I’ve got to remind me of her. I didn’t mean… It wasn’t supposed to happen…”
The God Mars Book Four: Live Blades Page 37
