Embers: The Galaxy On Fire Series, Book 1

by Craig Robertson

  The other beasty replied this time. “No. You can’t talk us out of killing you because we don’t want to kill you. We are following orders and must do so. There are no options.”

  It was looking grim for me. I had a few options but no time to debate them. I could shoot first, run, or put up my personal force field. The last toy Toño installed in me before I decided to become human again was a personal membrane generator. Up until then, they were too big for individual use and the field itself too inflexible to maneuver. But Toño figured out a fix, and I had a functioning unit installed.

  Instinctively, I swung my right hand up and lasered the fronts of their weapons off. I was extra careful not to hit them or break open their power packs. Both guns fizzed loudly as they split into two pieces. They threw them to the floor immediately.

  The bodiless voice sounded off loudly. “This is unacceptable. You have damaged property belonging to the Adamant. The penalty is agonizing death.”

  “What,” I asked the air around me, “as opposed to a neighborly death by mutant hippo firing squad?”

  “Further unacceptable behavior. It is unacceptable to insult the Adamant. After you are killed, you will be revived and executed again in a different and more agonizing manner.”

  “Don’t go to such trouble. If you manage to off me, let’s just leave well enough alone, shall we?”

  “Disrespect! If we kill you? You will be revived thirty times and exterminated again, and your family will be subject to the same fate.” This disembodied voice was sure an asshole.

  “Good luck finding them, pal. They’ve been dead for a couple billon years.”

  There was a brief delay before the voice spoke. “Guards, begin serial deaths. Operation E-11-Master.”

  “Or welcome me, death,” they both said with reverence. They whipped side arms up and aimed at me.

  I turned on my membrane just as they fired. A flock of energy blobs I couldn’t identify slammed into the membrane. They erupted like skyrockets on impact and showered the room with incendiary brilliance. The guards covered their faces and cowered backward. Both dropped their pistols.

  The second it was apparent what had happened, the voice cried out in rage. “Unacceptable. The robot may not defend itself. The robot cannot possess such technology. It is impossible. The impossible is strictly forbidden. The guards have failed in their duty and have discarded their weapons. Further unacceptable outcomes. They will be factored out.”

  Both hippo dudes got horrified looks on their faces just before they vanished. Poof, they were simply not there. Oh well, no great loss. They were jerks to me.

  The annoying voice spoke again. “The robot will terminate its space-time congruity manipulator and submit to serial executions immediately.”

  “Or else?” I asked.

  There was an even longer delay before the Wizard of Oz spoke from behind his curtain. “Or else? There is no or else. You have no options. To resist the will of the Adamant is unthinkable.”

  “Ah, not so much. I not only thought it, but I also did it.” I stuck my tongue out. No idea if the voice had eyes, but it sure felt good. “So, If I stand here a thousand years with my shield up, whatcha gonna do? Time is really on my side. Let me tell you about it.”

  “Resistance is unacceptable, impossible, and futile. The square light-year you presently occupy will be deleted.”

  “What does that even mean?” I tried to sound as snotty as possible, which wasn’t hard at all.

  “The Adamant does not explain itself. Your sector of existence will be deleted. It will cease to exist along with all its contents. That is all there is to it, robot.”

  “Beg pardon, all-mighty Oz, but you did just explain yourself. You said you didn’t explain yourself, then you did. I think you’re confused. Maybe having an off day or ate a bad clam. Can I help?”

  It took a full five seconds for the pissy voice to digest that quip and respond. “You are infuriating. Your deletion will be a service to the universe.”

  “Hang on. Seriously, stop what you’re doing and listen. I ran into a bug-like guy earlier today.”

  Voicey cut me off. “Yes, the Quep. He has been apprehended and eliminated.”

  “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I ran into this Quep dude earlier. He said the Adamant were evil incarnate. He said you ruled the galaxy with an iron hand and treated all life-forms like doggy doodoo.”

  “What is doggy doodoo? It does not exist in our data base. Explain immediately.”

  “Or else?”

  “You already said or else. You are commanded to define the term. Therefore, you must.”

  “Or else? Look, use the magic word, and I promise I will.”

  “We do not use magic. It is unnecessary and it does not exist. Define your term.”

  “There is so much wrong with what you just said. Did you guys know how non-omniscient you are? For a master race, you’re fairly clueless.”

  “Define doggy doodoo and delineate what we do not know.”

  “This may take a while. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Ro … robots do not need to recl … line.”

  “Be that as it may. Okay, ready with paper and pencil? Do you know what a dog is?”

  “No.”

  “It was a service animal on a long-dead planet.”

  “Very well.”

  “If you fed a dog a can of food and waited twelve hours, doodoo is what came out its backside.”

  “Excrement? You mean the excrement of an extinct service animal?”

  “Precisely.”

  “It is forbidden to insult the Adamant.”

  “I think you said that already.”

  “No. We said it was forbidden to perform the impossible. We said it was unacceptable to insult us.”

  I pulled up a rust box and sat down. “I stand corrected.”

  “What do we not know? To say we lack any knowledge is corrupt thought.”

  “Is it forbidden or just unacceptable?”

  “Sarcasm is—”

  “Hey, voice, put a sock in it already. You’re kind of bossy. Bet you knew that though. What you are mistaken about is magic. It is very real. So, back to my initial point. I met this guy who said you were bad hombres. Is that correct?”

  “Many have called us that, if by hombres you mean individuals.”

  “So, this is how confused you are and how disparately you need my help. You guys are supposed to be evil but you said, and I quote, your deletion will be a service to the universe. So, I figure, you’re like Boy Scouts now, serving the universe? Evil doers aren’t supposed to be helpful. Add that to that the fact that you didn’t know about magic and that you contradicted yourselves about not explaining yourself and, well, I think you’re in more trouble than you realize. You need me, maybe as a consultant.”

  “Unacceptable. We require nothing. Your sector will be deleted.”

  “Suit yourself. Me? I think you’re only fooling yourselves, but hey, your call. I’ve got a lot to do and need to get to it.”

  “But you cannot do anything after you are deleted. You are the one not in contact with reality.”

  I began tapping a foot. “Can we wrap it up already? You try and delete me. I promise I’ll pretend to be deleted. Then we’ll both be happy. Oh, can you not delete your guard’s ship so I can get off this rock after you don’t delete me? I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Your deletion is a certainty. Your bravado is useless.”

  “Well it’s my bravado. I can waste it if I so desire. I know you can’t harm me. If you try, I’ll disappear, and you’ll never learn what your weakness is. Then, someday soon, I’ll find the throat producing your annoying voice. You'll then wish I hadn't.”

  “You cannot disappear. You have no mode of transportation. Your death is a certainty.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Where I come from, one warning is all you ever get.”

  The voice was silent a good ten seconds. I thought t
hat was a moral victory if nothing else.

  “We have decided you cannot be punished enough in your present, remote location. Hence you will enter the spaceship that brought our slaves. It will be auto-piloted back here. Once you arrive, a plan for a proper set of anguishing punishments will be arranged.”

  Wow, they didn’t call my bluff. Some master race they turned out to be. What a bunch of losers. Then again, never underestimate the bullshitting prowess of yours truly. Never.

  THREE

  I kept my shield up the entire time I was on their ship. It might have been the only thing stopping them from deleting me. I didn’t know what deletion entailed exactly, but I was betting it was unpleasant, at best. A word about the spaceship I rode on. Way, way back in the twentieth century there was a movie with lots of action but little content named Independence Day. The evil alien invaders had fighter craft that looked remarkably like the one I was on. I only mentioned it because here, way in the future, somebody came up with the identical design. Weird. Maybe they saw the film too?

  The flight turned out to be very quick. After we departed Exeter, we sped up for a few seconds, then I felt a fine vibration, and then we decelerated. I looked out the viewport and saw the most unusual spacecraft I’d ever seen, which was saying a lot. We were preparing to dock with a ginormous cube. It was so big, I wondered why anyone would build it. I mean, if you needed a vehicle that large, just strap engines to a planetoid. But it was definitely an artificial construct. Even more unusual was how it was positioned in a cubical structure, an exoskeleton, so to speak. A giant metallic cube in a gossamer framework that was only slightly larger than the ship itself. I was totally baffled by the design and how it functioned. Hopefully I’d live long enough to find out because I was fascinated to understand the mechanics of the ship.

  As we approached, a large set of doors opened to allow our entry. My ride eased into a docking station and the hatch silently swung up, inviting me to exit. Well, that and the team of armed figures standing just outside. If the hippo guards I’d met were ugly, these guys were double, maybe even triple, ugly. They were also about twice the size of the hippo dudes. They were vaguely humanoid but had a scary set of saber-tooth tiger-like fangs and an armor-plated hide. They looked intimidating, that was for sure. I made a mental note to try my hardest not to piss them off.

  “Come with us now,” said the nearest alien.

  Yes, sir, I thought to myself. Don’t need to ask me twice. I popped up and basically sprinted to where he/she/it was pointing. I was positioned inside a half-circle of guards. Someone pushed me forward with a rifle and we were off. Now, I wasn’t prejudiced or anything. That said, I had to say that, in my experience, all ugly creatures also smelled really bad. As these guys were correspondingly about the ugliest I’d laid eyes on, they stunk to high heaven. Their scent was like boiling ammonia mixed with equal parts vomit and patchouli oil. Gross. Lucky for me I was leading the pack, so the hideous smell was mostly behind me. In my mental picture of whatever an Adamant looked like, I eliminated the possibility of them having noses.

  Our trip to wherever they were taking me was longer than my space flight had been. I strolled. The beasties escorting me marched with their huge feet stomping like there were bugs on the floor they wanted to smash. Structurally, the ship had to be very tough. Finally, we arrived at a large set of solid gold double doors. Runes and figures I couldn’t identify were etched into the metal surface. I presumed I was entering a critical area.

  My suspicion was confirmed when the door glided open. The guards that brought me thus far backed away quickly. A new set of guards was on the inside. There were only three, so I assumed they were deadlier than the combined force that was being relieved. Note to self: don’t piss these guys off. At least it was immediately apparent they weren’t ugly and didn’t stink. The little I could see of them supported my theory that they were not butt ugly, that is. They were fifty percent taller than me and seemed to be rail thin. Most physical aspects were obscured by their hooded robes. Layer upon layer of delicate pale fabric covered them, so there was nothing exposed. They sported no weapons, but anyone guarding whomever lived in this room had to be packing a weapon or ten. The bodies under all that cloth were living animals. I could hear their soft breathing. One thing that was obvious was that they were not friendly. They exuded malice and lethality.

  Two of the three guards stepped aside to allow me to enter. The third backed in the direction I was to go. His eyes, all four of them, never left mine. He was scrutinizing my expression to find the slightest justification for killing me, I suppose. I could sense he wanted to tear me limb from limb more than he wanted anything in the entire universe. And he’d only just met me.

  What the hell. “How you doing?” I asked, never removing my eyes from his.

  He didn’t blink or hesitate. He just kept backing up slowly.

  “Nice place you got here. Did you decorate yourself, because, I mean, it looks real pretty in an understated way,” I asked in my most cordial tone.

  Nothing, just his paced movement backward.

  Before I could say anything else, a calm yet commanding voice called out from behind my guide. “It is unwise to bait the Midriack. They have no sense of humor and possess explosive tempers. They are only interested in killing you, not in idle chatter. You will receive no further warning.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Seat him in front of me, but stand ready,” the voice said.

  As the Midriack stepped aside to reveal an ornate chair, I caught my first glance of the speaker, presumably an Adamant. It took all my strength not to erupt in laughter. Fortunately, I restrained my baser instincts. I imagined that would have caused an immediate and unpleasant response from the Midriack. But it was hard. Of all the images, of all the possible appearances the Adamant could have, what I saw completely blindsided me. They were puppy dogs. Seriously. The male seated on a throne in front of me looked exactly like a border collie, only two to three times bigger. He clearly walked on two feet, based on how he sat, but he had four roughly equal legs and a fluffy tail. I almost patted my pockets to see if I had a Milk-Bone biscuit on me.

  “I will advise that you also not toy with me, either,” he said as I sat.

  That really didn’t help my efforts to suppress a giggle or two.

  “My name is Mercutcio. I am uninterested in knowing yours. It has been tasked to me to discover if there is any merit in your extraordinary remark that we could not have deleted you back on that asteroid.” He reached over and daintily picked up a morsel of food—a treat, as it were—and swallowed it. “I am certain you were blustering, but the collective has decided it is prudent to investigate your claim nonetheless. But, know that I am not pleased to waste time extracting information from a slave, let alone a robotic one. So, do not unleash your anemic humor on me or I shall terminate my investigation by terminating you.”

  Oh no. He said unleash after he said toy. If he asked a servant to fetch something or referred to tree bark, I was going to lose it for sure.

  “Are you listening to me, wretch?” he barked out.

  “Huh? Yeah. Of course, I am. You said I should be dutiful and obedient.” I shouldn’t have stood so near the flame, but I honestly couldn’t help myself.

  He stared at me intently a few heartbeats, then went back to his blander tone. “So, why is it a robot of significant antiquity possess a space-time membrane device in the first place?”

  “What makes you think I’m old?”

  The nearest Midriack took one silent step toward me.

  “I ask the question, not you. You could confound and confuse Phedra earlier, but I am not so easily played. Know your place or die.”

  “I was thinking it would help my answer if I knew a little more about your frame of reference. For example, what led you to assume I was old.” I turned palms upward and shook my head. “I’m just trying to be helpful as I can. Throw me a bone here.”

&
nbsp; He glared at me again, intently. “You’re component parts have radioactive mixtures indicating you were fabricated one and a half to two billion years ago.”

  These guys had slick science scans. “You are correct. I’m ancient.”

  “As are we. In both cases, that is inconsequential. Where, I asked for the second and last time, did you get that device from?”

  “An old friend gave me the technology, and another old friend scaled it to fit inside of me, Mercutcio.”

  The guard began to lunge at me.

  “Stay,” commanded Mercutcio.

  The guard went limp and withdrew.

  “You will not refer to me by my name. You will address me as Adamant only.”

  I poked my hand up a little, to indicate I had a question.

  “What are you doing?” he howled.

  “I want to clarify what you said. You want me to refer to you as Adamant, right, not Adamant only?”

  “Guard,” he yelled, “kill him at once.”

  The fact that Mercutcio said guard, not guards, indicated only the nearest one should attack. I was partially relieved. One killing machine was better than three killing machines. The way Toño designed my personal membrane allowed me to use my laser and probe fibers. Tiny portions of the field were cycled on and off to permit their passage. But, I still favored a complete field. So, I sat there awaiting the Midriack’s blow.

  His hands extended from his sleeves to reveal large claws. His arms reared back to deal a death blow as he pounced. I squinted as he hit, praying the membrane would be enough to stop him. It was. One hand struck my throat but skidded off like I was covered in ice. The other raked over my face, but again, it swept past without touching me. His failed attempt enraged him. He let out the most intimidating war cry I’d ever heard and tackled me with a bear hug.

  We tumbled to the floor, and he climbed atop me, pinning me to the floor. I balled up both fists and slammed them into either side of his cloaked head as hard as I could. As I smashed his skull, I felt a satisfying crunch, but only a slight one. Midriacks had tough bones. Despite receiving such a blow, he continued to claw and punch at me maniacally.