Driftmetal III

by J. C. Staudt

  I didn’t know what to say to that. The Regent was putting me in my place. It’s not as if I had come to Roathea armed with a five-step plan for overhauling the world’s eco-political system. All I’d wanted to do was put the law-lovers in their place; get in a few good shots on behalf of the little guy. “I’m not going to get into a blasted debate with you,” I said. “Mostly because I wouldn’t know what I was talking about. What we’re here to talk about is the immediate future. The killing in the streets, and the fates of you and your family.”

  “Again, I implore you,” said the Regent. “Take your armies and go. Evacuate your fleet and leave this place, never to return. I can promise you, there will be no retaliation.”

  I laughed. “That’s a good one. Half of us were already facing years of incarceration for our past crimes before we got here. I can’t begin to guess how many life sentences you’re going to tack on the second I walk out those doors. What you seem to have forgotten is that while we control the capital, you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “I hate to interrupt, but… we may not have control of the capital for much longer.” Chaz was staring down into the screen of his navigation unit, a gray metal box built to receive signals from nearby bluewave beacons, which he’d brought with him from the Highjinks.

  “Spit it out, Chaz.”

  “The citizens in the streets may be the least of our worries. There was a broadcast just before we left the cruiser. It seems that word of what’s happening here has gotten out.” He hesitated.

  “You have yet to shock me, Chaz.”

  “Civs from across the stream are on their way here to liberate the capital. Everyone from privateers to local sheriffs to citizen militia have been summoned to Grimsley. It’s set to match wind to the east of Roathea during the early hours of the morning. There’s a huge force mustering there. This isn’t an invasion anymore, Mull. It’s a siege. If you want to hold Roathea, we have to stand and fight for it.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” I glanced at the Regent, who was trying to stifle a smile.

  “I wish I could say it was.”

  “It is getting worse than that,” Rindhi added. “The legion is having many calamities. Our numbers are dwindling; many units are damaged beyond repair. Yet citizens are still dying in the streets, refusing to stop with the fighting.”

  The Regent could no longer hold back his smile. “I may not be a favorite among the inmates, but the public adores me,” he said, spreading his arms as if to bask in his own popularity.

  “Someone punch him in the throat for me,” I said. “The people don’t love you. They love this.” I stomped on the throne. “I mean, what’s below this. Roathea. Their home. People will stop at nothing to risk life and limb when they think their homes are in jeopardy. This thing, your throne… it’s a symbol. It’s an icon for the common man to look up to. The Civs have no love for you either. You’re the one who pays their salaries. They’re coming to get you because they want to keep getting paid.”

  The Regent gave me a sour look. “Have you no faith in the goodness of mankind? No sense of pride among your peers? No understanding of the intangible? Perhaps it isn’t me alone they fight for, but they certainly aren’t fighting for the dirt beneath our feet. They fight for the establishment. For the honor of what they love, and for the hope that someday they might say it was their stalwart contumacy which drove out the intruders. Their iron will which saved subsequent generations from a future full of pain and desolation at the hands of those scoundrels who tried to take their homeland.”

  “Okay, seriously… someone needs to hit him.”

  “Eh… I wonder if I might have a word, Mr. Jakes,” said Thomas.

  “Have as many words as you want, Tommy.”

  Thomas cleared his throat. “In… private.”

  “You’re my chief adviser. If there’s something you need to say, then you can say it in front of everyone.”

  Thomas’s expression hardened. I knew what that meant. “Okay. Alright. Everyone just hold on a minute.” I hopped off the throne and jogged down the dais steps, throwing an arm over Thomas’s shoulders and pulling him along with me. We huddled together at the opposite end of the room. He spoke softly, afraid that the echo of his voice might carry.

  “Please know that I say this as both your adviser and your friend,” he began.

  “Stop right there,” I said. “I don’t want to hear any of this friend crap, so quit it. You’re here to act as my adviser. That’s it. We can talk about friendship and flowery rainbow kittens later. Now what is it?”

  Thomas lifted his bottom lip, stung. “We’re in over our heads, Mr. Jakes.”

  “We sure are, Tom.”

  “The instant you deviated from Maclin’s plan, you cut ties with our only ally.”

  “I’ve noticed I’m very good at that.”

  “This is not the time for jests, Mr. Jakes. Our enemies are multiplying. Maclin, the Regency, the people… even the Civil Corps. I’m beginning to see how foolhardy it was to think we might change the Regency. That we might shove aside centuries of tradition in favor of some vague notion of how we wish the world worked. Now, I’m sorry, but we’ve taken this quite far enough. Too far, in fact.”

  “There’s only one way to know if you’ve gone too far, Tom. You don’t come back.”

  “Proverbs and witticisms aside, I don’t see us coming back from this one. Not without a few new enemies and a higher price on our heads.”

  “Price,” I repeated, thinking aloud. “Wait a minute. That’s it, Tom. You’re a genius. Heavens, I could headbutt you right now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Shut up. Let me think.” I paced the floor, tapping my lips with a finger. “Tom. Do you remember the day we met?”

  “I seem to remember you detonating an explosive device while I was holding it, yes.”

  “Stop being cranky. I’m talking about the Archduke. Do you remember how I wanted you to get me a royal pardon?”

  “Yes of course. What’s that got to do with—”

  “I was very disappointed in you when it turned out you were no longer in the Archduke’s good graces. Now’s your chance to make it up to me.”

  But—” Thomas stammered. “What? I—”

  “You’re an adviser, Tommy. Advise the Regent to give us a pardon.”

  “He’s already said he won’t pursue us if we leave…”

  “I want it in writing. An official decree, with our own copy bearing the Regent’s seal. And it has to be something he can’t un-decree when we’re gone.”

  “Best of luck to you on that score,” said Thomas.

  “Why are you wishing me luck? You’re the one in charge of this. Go. Work your advisory magic.”

  Thomas sighed and stalked off. I followed, ready to be entertained. A path opened up through the crowd as we approached the Regent.

  “What is it now?” he said. “Finally decided to put me out of my misery, have you?”

  “We wish to treat with you,” said Thomas.

  The Regent laughed. “So you’re coming to your senses. That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve done all night.”

  “You claimed you would not retaliate if we were to abort our invasion and pull out of the city,” Thomas said.

  “So I did,” said the Regent. “Do you believe I’ll hold to that, even now that you find yourselves in such dire straits? That’s the real question.”

  Thomas wrinkled his mouth. “My question to you is, who keeps record of your decrees?”

  “Every law and mandate since the time of the shattering is kept in the Royal Archives, just down the way. When I make a decree, there’s some chap or other who records it and files the thing with the thousands of others.”

  “Since the time of the shattering, you say. What about before the shattering?”

  “The written histories are scarce, but the accounts judged to be most accurate say that when the world shattered, the building that housed the old Royal Archives
was lost to the Churn.”

  “Odd. Well, in any case, if you’re a man of your word, you’ll have no qualms about committing this promise to a royal decree and providing us a copy, complete with the Regent’s seal. It would do well for our peace of mind. Who’s your record-keeper?”

  The Regent gave him a blank look. “I couldn’t tell you the name of the fellow. What I will tell you is that I find the very notion appalling. It has become increasingly clear to me as this evening draws on that you’ve made a grievous error in coming here. My many supporters, who are on their way to my rescue, have spoken volumes in my defense. The Regency will live on, whether you spare my life or not. And thus, I present you with your choices: stay and face your end here… or run, and face it somewhere else.”

  Hearing Max’s words, I couldn’t help but cut in. “I’m the only reason you’re still alive, in case you’ve forgotten. I was ordered to murder your entire family, and I chose not to.”

  The Regent raised his eyebrows. “These metal monstrosities of yours have murdered countless civilians tonight. Now you’d like a round of applause and a pat on the back for choosing to spare me?”

  “What I want is a royal pardon for myself and all my friends.”

  “You’ll get no such clemency. I’ve decided to rescind my offer. Flee, you traitors. Flee, if you know what’s good for you, and may the heavens bathe in the splendor of your demise.”

  So that was it, then. If I didn’t stand and fight, I was destined to live my life as a fugitive, always on the run and without a place to call home. Except now, instead of being the lone criminal, I had dragged half a dozen of the people I called friends into the dregs with me. In the eyes of the law, they were now as culpable as I was. And the people of Pyras, well—I didn’t see any outcome where they weren’t forced out of their homes and into the stream to live the lives of second-class citizens.

  “I understand why all those people out there are fighting for their homes,” I said. “But I don’t think I’ll ever understand why they would fight to perpetuate a Regency like yours.” I turned to my friends. “Well, everyone. We’re the synod… for a little while, at least. The decision rests with you now. We leave, or we fight. Which is it?”

  Before anyone could respond, there was a loud clicking sound that echoed through the throne room like a clap of thunder. This was followed by the brief fuzz of static, and then the amplified sound of a throat being cleared. “MR. JAKES, YOU HAVE SERVED THE SYNOD LONG ENOUGH. YOUR SERVICES ARE NO LONGER REQUIRED. YOU ARE HEREBY RELIEVED OF YOUR COMMAND, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.”

  The speakers in the robots’ heads screeched, a high-pitched wail that sent everyone into a panic. The Evelyns were moving, but I wasn’t telling them to. They began to disperse themselves through the room, in what I guessed was their controller’s best attempt at surrounding the loose crowd. Then the throne room doors burst open and cracked against the back wall from the force.

  Before us stood a motley band of cybernetic freaks, the likes of which I am never likely to encounter ever again, in this life or any other. I had thought Ezra was heavily augmented when I met him. These weirdos weren’t even in the same league. There was a tall, slender man whose head was encased in a metal jaw that exposed only the flesh of his face; a middling creature in a compression suit, whose hair was a writhing array of metallic snakes that floated as if she were underwater; a fat man whose skinny mechanical limbs bore tiny moving parts that hissed and spasmed whenever he shifted his weight; and a bald woman in a hoverchair with a glowing red eye and a tentacled arm. More of the things were crowding in from behind, but I couldn’t see them as easily.

  These weirdos were, of course, Maclin’s very own synod. They were like a team of geriatric superheroes, so ancient and decrepit that they all probably should’ve been dead fifty years ago. Clearly Maclin’s governing organization felt they could trust the products they were selling; many of their mods weren’t for augmentation, but for life support. What disturbed me most, though, was that their arrival tonight meant they’d been following us since the day we left Maclin. And the fact that they’d followed us meant that for them, the failure of this invasion had never been an option.

  I turned my head to the Regent and whispered, “We have to get everyone out of here. Now.”

  10

  The appearance of the synod in the capital wasn’t the most astonishing thing that had happened that night. Nor was finding out they’d had their own override all along. Why they hadn’t used it sooner was now as obvious to me as a slap in the head—it would’ve been virtually impossible to command the automatons before they could see them.

  Max was pale, more afraid than he’d looked all night. I could tell he understood; the time of bargaining and bluff-calling was over. The game of chicken we’d been playing was no longer a game. The synod didn’t play games.

  He touched my arm and nodded toward the back of the room, where a high velvet curtain covered the wall behind the throne. I grabbed Sable by the arm and told her to go with him. Then I began to make my way through the crowd, tapping people on the shoulder and urging them to follow. The palace guardsmen stood firm, either too stubborn to be moved again or too ashamed at the mockery I’d made of them to run away. Whatever their reason for staying, I had no time to convince them to do otherwise. The last thing I did before I emerged from behind the wall of automatons was to draw the medallion from my pocket and slip it into place on my chest.

  The synod advanced, flowing down the long purple carpet like a funeral procession. I stopped and waited for them, my heart pounding through the medallion with a new fury. When I heard a dull thud and the click of a latch from far behind me, I knew my friends had made it out safe. That gave me some measure of relief, albeit a small one.

  The procession halted in front of me, those in the rear spreading out to the sides for a better look. With no augments but the possessed jewel in the flesh of my bosom, I had only my good looks and a fast mind to get me out of this one. It was time to get creative.

  “Welcome to your new kingdom,” I said, spreading my arm and trying not to wince when the half-severed one gave me a shot of pain. “I think you’ll find the throne quite empty… though you’ll have to take turns.”

  “They won’t get far,” said the slender man with the jawlike mechanical helmet for a skull. His was that same shallow, electric voice that had spoken to me in the synod’s chamber.

  He just completely ignored me, I realized. Well… two can play at that game. “I can see you’ve got everything under control, so I’ll be going now. Good day, sirs and madams.” I gave a shallow bow and moved to skirt around them.

  “Don’t be hasty, Mr. Jakes. You’ve been relieved, but you haven’t been released.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Alright. What do you want? Why did you come? I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t need a bunch of old-timers bringing up the rear. I had everything under control.”

  “We’ve come to take the throne you’ve so graciously won for us. With our thanks, of course. We left Maclin directly after you did because we were so confident in your abilities—so certain of your success—that we decided we might as well take over as soon as things were smoothed out.”

  “Great. Well, here you go. Have a nice life.”

  He continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “We did warn you that, were you to deviate from the path we set out for you, there would be consequences. You have deviated, Mr. Jakes.”

  “Got me,” I said. “I deviated. I didn’t like the fact that you hijacked the crackler in my arm when I wasn’t looking.”

  The jaw-headed guy laughed. “Us? I’m afraid you have Angus Brunswick to thank for that. It was he who doubted your loyalty, when in fact we were the ones who should’ve been more skeptical.”

  “So Angus put Doctor Gottlieb up to it, then.”

  “Ms. Foxglove was the primary instigator. Her sole condition for allowing you anywhere near the Galvos Project again was that she had some way to control you,
in case you proved too difficult to manage. Angus simply made sure were apprised, and we took over before we sent you here.”

  “Well, come to think of it… that makes a lot of sense. And believe me, I’d love to thank Angus for many things. But that’s just not possible. Angus is dead.”

  “We know.”

  “Of course you do. You guys know a lot of crap you have no business knowing. In fact, you probably already know about the gigantic force of Civs, privateers, pirates, and citizen militia who are massing on Grimsley right now, getting ready to take Roathea back for the Regency.”

  “We did detect several bluewave beacons in that vicinity, but we were not aware of all that. Thank you for the warning.”

  I slumped my shoulders. “Oh, come on. Seriously? I just warned you?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “That doesn’t matter. This force is going to be so huge, the legion will never last against it.”

  A pause. “You’re right.”

  “Huh?”

  “The legion will not last against such a force. Which is why we brought two more.”

  “Two more what? Legions? That’s impossible. How could you have mass-produced twelve-thousand Galvos models in the span of a few hours?”

  “We didn’t have to, Mr. Jakes. The existing Mark-Fours, Mark-Fives, and Mark-Sixes all made perfectly good hosts for your new logic drive. It was a simple matter of retrofitting them with the latest version.”

  “Gods… no.” I ran past them, sprinted down the hall, and shoved the palace doors aside.

  Standing before me on the lawn were line upon line of automatons, each newer generation sleeker and more streamlined than the last. They stretched out across the smoldering field like toy soldiers, perfectly still and silent. I looked to the Highjinks, still parked but now in their midst, in whose depths the Regent’s wife and children were locked away.