The Devils Do (Chaos of the Covenant Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  Abbey reached up, running her hand along her scalp. It had been smooth the last time she touched it. Now she could feel the resistance of new follicles poking up. Had the Gift restored her hair? That was a change she would accept gratefully.

  “I wish I could get my locks back,” Benhil said, putting a hand on his bare scalp.

  “You look good bald,” Gant said.

  “I do?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Are you screwing with me?”

  “Yeah. You’re kind of ugly.”

  “Shut up, Gant.”

  “I’m only kidding. You look fine. Seriously.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, chrome dome.”

  “Gant,” Abbey said.

  Gant laughed. “Fine. You’re a handsome man, Jester.”

  “I’m not listening to you anymore.”

  “It’s a head only a blind mother could love.”

  “Gant,” Abbey repeated.

  Gant chittered and walked away. Benhil looked annoyed, but Pik and Jequn were both smiling.

  “You’re fine, Jester,” Pik said. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Yes, I think you’re very handsome,” Jequn said.

  “You do?” Benhil said, looking at Jequn. “Because-”

  “I don’t like bald men,” she said, winking at him and heading for the ladder while Pik roared in laughter.

  “She’s going to fit right in,” he said, still laughing as he made his way past.

  “You’re going to let them treat me like this?” Benhil asked.

  “You wanted to be Jester,” Abbey replied.

  “Do you think I look good bald?”

  Abbey abandoned him, walking toward the ladder up.

  “Wait. Queenie. Do you? Queenie? Assholes.”

  8

  Machina Four. The planet had started its inhabited lifecycle in the Outworlds the same way the first three planets named Machina had - as a rare mineral mining facility owned by one or more of the corporations that had founded the Governance. Like the first three, Machina Four had also been depleted beyond profitability for the corporation, and had since been abandoned by the original owners and left to be settled by whoever wanted to live on a rocky planet with little surface water that was just barely inside the nearest star’s habitable zone.

  Steel Town was one of the smaller settlements on the planet. It was tucked into a deep ravine where massive crawlers and tunnelers had once collected kilos of rock to sift for valuable particulate, causing the sides to increase in height as mountains of sediment were built up and stabilized around the main dig sites. It was a dirty place by nature, but also a thriving community of tinkerers and mechanics, bot makers, and prospectors. There was still enough valuable source materials left in the surrounding rock for independent operators, just not enough for a large corp to get a decent return on their investment.

  The city was directly inaccessible by anything larger than a shuttle, forcing Bastion to land the Faust on the upper ridge of the ravine. There were four other starships already parked nearby, all of them a configuration of mixed-use cruisers.

  Abbey did a quick scan for the crescent moons of the Haulers as they descended, and then led the Rejects out onto the surface, with Bastion remaining behind to manage their ride. She was sure the word had gone out about the Destructor, and while it might take some time for management to figure out exactly what had happened, she didn’t want to be caught off-guard.

  They moved on foot from the Faust to a small guard station perched on the edge of the ravine. The Rejects had dressed for the occasion, in civilian clothes instead of armor. Abbey had her softsuit on beneath baggy pants and a loose white shirt. She had brought nearly two dozen food bars with her on the trip down and had eaten all of them. The result had been a return of the crawling feeling beneath her skin, a renewal of the Gift. It was a feeling she was growing more accustomed to but still didn’t like without the pressure of the suit counteracting it.

  Still, she was grateful to be able to down the bland bars instead of requiring an influx of blood. The idea had disgusted her before the visit to the engine room, and now the thought nearly made her puke. Tasting Emily Eagan’s blood had been a mistake. At the same time, she knew she might need to do it again before this was over if she was going to have any chance of matching Thraven. Nephilim blood only, and only if there was no other choice.

  No humans. Ever.

  An overweight Skink rose from a chair inside the station as they approached, joining two older Terran guards on the outside. The Terrans were armed with simple rifles, typical Outworld garbage weapons. They also had them shouldered wrong, making it obvious they never needed to use them.

  “Nice collection,” the Skink said, looking them over. His eyes stopped on Gant. “You have Gant.”

  “I’m getting tired of hearing that already,” Gant said.

  “Gilliam,” Benhil said, moving ahead of the others. “It’s been a long time. You gained weight.”

  Gilliam eyed Benhil, trying to remember who he was. “I know you?”

  “I’ve been here a few times before. Is Phlenel still in business?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You know Phlenel.”

  Gilliam laughed. “True enough. Rates have gone up. One thousand per head.”

  “A thousand?” Benhil said. “To get into this shithole? You can’t be serious.”

  “It is what it is. Pay it or get lost.”

  “Come on, G. You can’t count a Gant as a whole, he’s half my size.”

  “And the Trover is double your size.”

  “At least,” Pik said.

  Benhil motioned for Gilliam to move in closer. “How about three thousand, plus three hundred for you to say there were only three of us?”

  “Five hundred,” Gilliam replied.

  “Deal.”

  “And don’t make any trouble.”

  “Me? Never.”

  Benhil reached into a pocket, removing a payment card. Gilliam ran his thumb over it, scanning it.

  “Welcome to Steel Town,” Gilliam said, moving aside. “Lift is through there.”

  Abbey let Benhil stay in the lead as they headed to the massive lifting platform that had been built into the side of the rock. Gilliam activated it as soon as they were all on board, and it began to descend into the ravine.

  “Who’s Phlenel?” Abbey asked.

  “She’s a Hurshin doctor,” Benhil replied. “She specializes in dark-med and augmentations. She fixes up most of the idiots who come here to mine for rare minerals and wind up losing limbs to the machines.”

  “A Hurshin?” Gant said. “I’ve never met one.”

  “The Goreshin, the creatures that attacked us on Anvil, are derived from the Hurshin,” Jequn said. “That's what allows them to change form.”

  Benhil turned to Abbey. “I recommend leaving Pik with Phlenel and then heading over to Northside. I have a business contact there.”

  “Do you know anyone here with insider access to Republic asset movements?” Abbey asked.

  “In Steel Town? This is a great place for tangible resources, Queenie. Intel? Not so much.”

  “Jequn, what about Nephilim? Should we expect any complications?”

  “The potential exists everywhere,” Jequn replied. “We don’t know everyone who may be working for the enemy, and as you saw the Goreshin can pose as standard humans. However, I would say the odds are low due to the nature of the planet.”

  “Fair enough. That’s why we came armed.”

  “That fat Skink didn’t even frisk us,” Pik said.

  “Why would he?” Benhil replied. “Nobody comes to Machina to make trouble. There’s nothing here worth making trouble over, at least until one of the prospectors stumbles on a tract with a high enough recovery density. And I doubt the corp that used to own this place left any of those.”

  The platform took a few more minutes to reach the ground, finally leaving the
m at the beginning of a wide street that split the center of Steel Town. Factories and workshops were obvious on the edges of the ravine, and apartments and larger homes were intermingled with storefronts on the inside. The whole setup was primitive compared to more developed planets, but that was more a question of scale. No merchant could turn a profit bringing in non-necessities to a planet like Machina Four.

  Benhil led them through the settlement. They drew looks from many of the locals, but they were looks of curiosity, not malice. Steel Town saw its share of newcomers.

  They stopped in front of one of the storefronts. It didn’t have a sign anywhere to describe what kind of shop it was. Abbey had noticed none of them did. It made sense to her. If you were from the town, you knew what each thing was and where it was. If you weren’t, you figured it out quickly enough.

  Benhil approached the steel door. It didn’t open as he neared it, so he tapped the control panel on the wall beside it. “Phlenel, are you in there?”

  “What do you want?” a clearly synthesized voice returned in clear Terran Standard English.

  “I’ve got business.”

  Abbey noticed movement above them. She looked up to see the camera pivoting behind its casing and focusing on them.

  “You look healthy.”

  “Pik,” Benhil said.

  Pik rolled back his sleeve, showing off his missing hand.

  “Augmentation then?”

  “I came to you because I know you’re the best,” Benhil said.

  “Flattery will not reduce the cost.”

  Benhil laughed. “I wouldn’t expect it to.”

  The heavy door clanked as it unlocked.

  “The Trover may enter with you.”

  “Shy, isn’t she?” Gant said.

  “I need this one to enter as well,” Benhil said, pointing at Abbey. “She’s in charge of payment.”

  “She may enter with the Trover. You will wait outside.”

  “It’s all you, Queenie,” Benhil said. He lowered his voice. “Don’t make her mad. She’s got hidden gun fixtures inside the walls.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  Abbey moved to the door. It was manual, and she pushed it open, letting it swing inward on smooth hinges. The inside of the space was cool and dimly lit. A service bot was standing ahead of another doorway.

  “Welcome,” it said in the same synthesized voice. “Close the door behind you.”

  Pik closed the door. Abbey heard it lock again. She hoped Benhil knew what he was doing.

  The service bot walked backward on spindly metal legs. “Follow me.”

  It backed up into the second room. It too was dimly lit. It had a large, adjustable medical chair in the center, and the walls were ringed with bins of components. Abbey could see a second room behind it, also stocked with augmentation parts.

  “Trover, sit,” the bot said, waving a metal arm at the chair.

  “Whatever happened to bedside manner?” Pik said, plopping himself down in the chair. It groaned under his weight before actuators adjusted the configuration to better support his form.

  “Where’s Phlenel?” Abbey asked.

  “I am Phlenel,” the bot replied. “I will be with you in a moment. I am reconfiguring.”

  They waited in silence for a minute. Then Phlenel entered from behind them.

  It had taken a human form, her gelatinous body mimicking Abbey, using her as a guide for the shape. It was naked, semi-transparent, and almost ethereal looking. Its internal structure had no bones or organs, but instead consisted of a web of electrical impulses and motion and a cellular structure that was hardened and condensed in places to keep it upright. Abbey couldn’t help but stare. She had seen video of Hurshins before, but the real thing was even more incredible.

  “Now I’ve seen you naked, Queenie,” Pik said behind her.

  “Shut up,” Abbey replied. The Hurshin could have taken a generic form. Why had it chosen to copy her?

  “I am Phlenel,” the bot repeated. Abbey watched part of the Hurshin's internal structure sparkle ahead of the signal to the bot.

  It approached Pik.

  “Put up your hand,” the bot said.

  Pik raised his wrist. Phlenel reached out, putting a fingertip to it.

  “That tickles,” Pik said as the finger began to spread around the site.

  “I am taking measurements. What manner of augmentation do you require?”

  “He needs to be able to hold and fire a gun,” Abbey said. “And something that can take some abuse.”

  “If it makes me stronger and looks badass, that’s a bonus,” Pik said.

  “I can make any number of suitable configurations. Each will alter the cost of the procedure. For example, five fingers cost more than three.”

  “Three should be enough,” Abbey said.

  “What?” Pik replied.

  “It’s better than what you have right now, and we aren’t rich.”

  “Okay. How about four?”

  “We'll see. I don’t need Rhodinium,” Abbey said. “But something better than standard.”

  “Twenty thousand,” Phenel said.

  “Ten,” Abbey replied.

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “He doesn’t need a hand that badly. Come on, Okay.”

  “Yes I do,” Pik said.

  “No, you don’t. Let’s go.”

  Pik grumbled but moved to stand.

  “Eighteen thousand,” Phlenel said.

  “Fourteen.”

  “Seventeen.”

  “I know you’re good, but I’m not getting ripped off. Hand replacement isn’t that complex.”

  “Fifteen. That is as low as I can go without sacrificing component quality.”

  “Sit back down,” Abbey said.

  Pik sat.

  “Fine. Fifteen. How long?”

  “Six hours. Payment now.”

  Abbey found her card and held it out to the bot. It scanned it in silence.

  “Why did you take my form?” Abbey asked, turning back to Phlenel.

  The Hurshin shifted. Abbey knew it didn’t see the way other species did. It was in essence one big sensor, able to bounce all kinds of waves off things to build a picture of the environment around it.

  “You are different,” the bot said. “Interesting. I have never been your kind before.”

  “I’m a human,” Abbey said.

  “No, you are not.”

  Abbey felt her body turn cold. She knew she was changing, but this was an individual that could sense her in ways nothing else could, and it was saying she wasn’t human.

  “What am I then?” she asked.

  “Unique. That is what makes you interesting.”

  “It’s what’s inside me that makes me unique. You can’t mimic that.”

  “I am processing. I will interpolate and adapt my form accordingly.”

  Abbey raised her eyebrow. “How long will that take?”

  “Unknown. I must begin the procedure. Return in six hours.”

  Abbey glanced back at Pik. Phlenel had given him something while she was paying the bot. He was already unconscious.

  “See you later,” Abbey said.

  Then she left.

  9

  Abbey rejoined Benhil, Gant, and Jester outside of Phlenel’s shop, still slightly shaken by what the Hurshin had said. Would it be able to show her the physical changes she was going to undertake? Would she like what she saw? Would she even want to see it?

  Thraven had said madness accompanied the change. Violent, unfettered madness. How long would it take? Would she have enough time?

  What did enough time mean?

  She was herself for now. That would have to be good enough.

  “Six hours,” she said. “Let’s take care of getting a crew out to the Brimstone.”

  “Do we even know what we need them to fix?” Benhil asked.

  “Armor plating, for one,” Gant replied. “Surprisingly, there’s nothing special about the sh
ip’s armor, other than a secondary force shielding that apparently rests on the surface. It isn’t as effective as the outer shell, but it does redirect kinetic energy outward.”

  “Which means what?”

  “When it gets hit with torpedoes, the blast radius is expanded to cover a larger surface area, meaning less force to any given point along the surface. It’s like a slap versus a punch.”

  “What good will fixing the armor do if we don’t have shields?”

  “The naniates are self-replicating,” Jequn said. “They will replenish, which means the shields will replenish.”

  “The armor is the tertiary line of defense,” Gant said. “We don’t need to repair it, but we do need to shore up life support. The primary system is damaged. We’ve been breathing on the backup.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I imagine that’s important. My contact isn’t a starship engineer, but he can probably point us in the right direction.”

  “Good enough,” Abbey said.

  They made their way across the settlement, bypassing the rest of the shops and moving further out toward the surrounding factories and warehouses.

  “These were left over from when the corporations were still working the mines,” Benhil explained. “A lot of them have been converted to handle parsing for the prospectors. One has even been turned into a hotel. Sam runs a salvage operation. He pulls in shit from all over the galaxy, brings it here, and either melts it down or makes it into something else and then ships it back out.”

  “Legit or black market?” Abbey asked.

  “A little bit of both. He’ll give us a good price on the disterium, too.”

  “Good. I used the last of the money Olus gave us on Pik’s hand.”

  “Like he needs a hand.”

  They approached the front entrance to the factory. A guard was waiting ahead of the door.

  “Is Sam in?” Benhil asked.

  “Who are you?” the guard asked. She was young, with short hair and a dirty face.

  “An old friend. Go tell him I have disterium to sell.”

  The woman made a face and turned to the door, putting her hand on the control pad to open it.

  “Biometrically secured,” Abbey said. “I thought nobody cared about this place?”