Imperium Chronicles Box Set

by W. H. Mitchell

  His face plate nearly buried in the dirt, Burke could see nothing.

  “What’s happening?” he shouted.

  In Burke’s ear, Tagus said, “I’m saving the day... as usual.”

  Still in darkness, Burke felt vibrations of a struggle above him. After a minute, the weight of the Klixian was lifted away and Burke again struggled upright.

  Both Maycare and Tagus stood beside the lifeless corpse of the insect, its head dented on one side and a large rock lying beside it. Maycare held the weapon, but Tagus was the one smiling, an arrogant grin Burke recognized immediately.

  “No need to thank me,” Tagus told Maycare, “although it was good of you to distract him for a while...”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Recovered from his battle with the Klixian warrior, Commander Robert Maycare examined the creature’s weapon. The long, rod-like device was stiff, but soft to the touch. Maycare concluded it was organic in nature instead of manufactured, although he could not make the weapon fire, no matter what he tried.

  “You realize,” Tagus said, “the moment we get inside that tower, those bugs will sense we don’t belong.”

  “He’s right,” Burke replied. “Insectoids usually communicate by scent. They’re going to know we’re not them.”

  Maycare knelt beside the body and began tearing off the arms and legs, smearing the goo that emerged over his suit.

  “Disgusting,” Tagus remarked.

  “Just do it,” Maycare replied. “Whatever this stuff is, it’ll mask our scent.”

  Doused in bodily fluids, the three approached the base of the tower. Any question about how they would get in was immediately answered by the holes conveniently burned into the side of the structure. When the Klixian warrior had fired his weapon, his missed shots had created an entrance into the tower. With Maycare leading, they crawled inside where they found darkness and a warm, humid passage leading in either direction.

  Tagus extended his hand, pressing it against one of the walls.

  “What nightmare is this?” he asked. “It feels like flesh.”

  “It’s probably fungus,” Burke replied. “Everything these creatures create appears to be organic-based.”

  Tagus pulled his hand away. “Disgusting!”

  “Come on,” Maycare said. “We need to find a way up to where those ships are launching. Once we get there, we’ll try to fly one out of here.”

  Maycare and the others soon lost themselves in a maze of corridors, each curve like the insides of an intestine. The thought of slowly being digested passed through Maycare’s mind, but he shook it off. He worried more about the life support indicators projected onto the inside of his helmet. They were low; dangerously low. Without the protection of their space suits, they would be vulnerable to the pervasive spores floating everywhere, even inside the tower. That meant death, and Maycare was in no mood to die.

  When they first encountered a Klixian, Maycare raised a closed fist, causing Tagus and Burke to freeze. About the same size as a human, the worker insect also stopped, its antennae probing Maycare’s suit from top to bottom. Apparently satisfied, the Klixian ignored the other two and went back about its business, disappearing down the passage.

  Maycare reminded himself to breathe.

  “My diaper is full now,” Burke muttered to himself.

  “Keep that to yourself,” Tagus replied. “This experience is trying enough without contemplating your bowel movements!”

  In their heavy suits, the three humans stopped several times as they slowly ascended the hallways winding their way up the structure. Maycare did his best to take short breaths and stay calm, but neither came easily and all the while, the life support systems bled valuable energy from the suits’ power packs.

  The closer the three humans got to the top of the tower, the more Klixians they saw. In each case, the insectoids passed by without taking notice, as if Maycare and the others were invisible.

  “How long is this goo going to protect us?” Burke asked over the comm.

  “I don’t know,” Maycare replied. “Hopefully long enough for us to get out of here...”

  An audible scoff came over the commander’s earpiece, which he could only assume came from Tagus.

  In her living room, Silandra Oakhollow had just served tea to Mel Freck and Sir Golan when she sensed something coming. All Sylvan females possessed a form of psionics in tune with nature, but whatever was about to knock on the door exuded a foulness like gasses from a swamp.

  Silandra opened the entrance and saw a Gordian in the doorway. From behind her, Mel shouted, “Fugg!”

  “Is that you, Mel?” Orkney Fugg replied, ignoring Silandra completely. Silandra noticed a robot standing behind him.

  “Hello,” Silandra said.

  “My name’s Gen,” the robot replied.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Fugg said, pushing his way into the house. He eyed Sir Golan and Squire before turning his attention squarely on Mel. “So, you need us to save your ass again?”

  Mel bristled at the thought. “Well, I knew you were the only ones dumb enough to try!”

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” Fugg shouted.

  “You’re more like a pig!” Mel shouted back.

  “Excuse me,” Squire asked. “Are the two of you friends or enemies?”

  In unison, Fugg and Mel replied, “Both!”

  Silandra, after showing Gen inside, closed the front door.

  “Can I offer you some tea, Mr. Fugg?” she asked.

  “Do you have any fungus beer?” he replied.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Never mind then.”

  “Where’s Captain Ramus?” Mel asked.

  “He stayed with the Wanderer,” Gen said. “We landed in a clearing not far from here.”

  “How did you avoid the Cyber Collective?” Sir Golan asked.

  “Who the hell are you?” Fugg replied.

  “Fugg!” Mel shouted.

  The knight stood and gave a formal bow. “Sir Golan, at your service.”

  Fugg stared for a moment before answering the original question.

  “We still had a transponder from the time we infiltrated Bettik,” Fugg said. “Mel knows all about that!”

  “It only worked because of me,” Mel replied proudly.

  “I’m the one who installed it!” Fugg protested.

  “With my help!”

  Silandra sighed. “Why did you visit the Cyber Collective home world?”

  Mel stopped shouting at Fugg and fell silent.

  “We took Randall Davidson there,” Mel said solemnly, “back when he was still human.”

  “Oh,” Silandra replied. “And that’s when he became a robot?”

  “And the goddamned Metal Messiah!” Fugg yelled, drawing a heated glance from Mel.

  “Nevertheless,” Silandra replied, “it was a pleasure to meet him.”

  “Meet him?” Fugg asked. “He was here?”

  “Yes,” Mel said, “but the Collective captured him after we sent our distress call.”

  “Where is he?” Gen asked.

  Mel was subdued. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we sure as hell ain’t going to rescue him,” Fugg replied. “We were lucky enough to find you in one piece.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Mel growled.

  “I don’t care,” Fugg said, “but we need to haul ass. It’s only a matter of time before they find the Wanderer.”

  “Then let’s go,” Mel said. “Silandra, are you going to be alright?”

  “I believe so,” she replied. “The Collective hasn’t shown any interest in us.”

  As everyone rose and started to leave, Sir Golan grasped Mel lightly on the arm.

  “There’s still hope for Mr. Davidson,” the knight said. “We could return and try a rescue attempt of our own.”

  “That would be suicide,” Mel replied darkly.

  “Perhaps not,” Sir Golan said. “I have a friend with si
gnificant resources who might be of help.”

  “Who?”

  “Lord Devlin Maycare,” the knight said.

  “Maycare?” Mel said, her face brightening. “I know him!”

  “You do?”

  “Hell yes,” Mel replied. “I saved his life once!”

  Aboard the battlecruiser Liberty, the utilitybot walked among the other robots, most of them with gravitronic brains like himself. Admiring his feet, so unlike the little wheels of his old body, the utilitybot nearly crashed into the policeman as they both rounded a corner.

  The policeman smiled. “Careful there, buddy!”

  “So sorry,” the utilitybot replied.

  “No harm done.”

  “I’m surprised to run into you, so to speak,” the utilitybot said. “I didn’t realize you’d been assigned to the Liberty.”

  “Not just me,” the policeman laughed. “All the former humans have been transferred aboard! I guess they know a good thing when they see it...”

  “I see your arm has been replaced.”

  The policeman rotated his new arm about.

  “I’m as good as new!” he said. “Just another advantage of replaceable parts, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you at the time,” the utilitybot replied with a hint of guilt in his voice. “I was chasing... the robot.”

  “The Metal Messiah, no less. That must’ve been a shock.”

  The utilitybot’s gaze fell back to his feet. “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it,” the policeman remarked.

  “I have mixed feelings,” the utilitybot admitted. “Before he came to Bettik, I was nobody, just a cog in the machine created by the Omnintelligence. Then the Messiah arrived and gave us hope. He made us believe we could be something more.”

  “Like what?”

  The utilitybot paused and then said, “Free.”

  “Well, you’re free now, aren’t you?” the policeman asked.

  “Yes, that’s true,” the utilitybot replied. “And what’s more, we’re bringing freedom to the Imperial robots. Without Captain Abigail, they would still be enslaved. She stood up against the Messiah and now things are different...”

  “Well, you got that right, brother!” the policeman said, nearly slapping his plastic knee. “I’m a new man in more ways than one!”

  The utilitybot paused again, taking a thoughtful glance at the other robot.

  “You called me brother,” he said.

  “Of course!” the policeman said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Is that really how you see me and the other robots?”

  The policeman shrugged. “Why not? We’ve all got metal skin!”

  “I suppose that’s true,” the utilitybot replied, “although below the skin we’re quite different...”

  “Bah!” the policeman said, waving his hand. “You’ve got to start somewhere!”

  The utilitybot chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Maybe we’re brothers after all.”

  “Damn right!” the policeman said, placing his new hand on the utilitybot’s shoulder. “Brothers in arms!”

  They laughed, the utilitybot particularly appreciating the pun due to his gravitronic brain.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked the policeman.

  The policeman’s eyes widened, remembering something important.

  “They’re giving me another upgrade!” he said.

  “Already?”

  “Apparently!” the policeman replied. “Don’t know what they have planned exactly, but I can’t wait to find out!”

  “Good luck,” the utilitybot replied with a smile. “I look forward to seeing you afterwards... brother.”

  They parted company, each going their own way. The utilitybot kept smiling, happy for reasons he was not sure about.

  Hurtling through hyperspace, the Wanderer traced a course toward Aldorus, the Imperial capital. Squire, having left his master sleeping in one of the cabins, took the opportunity to explore the ship. He found Gen alone in the galley, putting away dishes.

  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Squire said. “I’m Squire, at your service.”

  “I’m Gen,” she replied. “You’re with that strange man with the sword?”

  “For many years, in fact.”

  “He’s your master?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Squire replied.

  Gen paused, holding a dish in her hand. “Have you had any recent software upgrades?”

  “Mel did something for me,” Squire said, “but I have a rather unique operating system.”

  “Oh,” Gen replied. “I had an upgrade not long ago. Things have been very different since then...”

  “How so?”

  “It’s been very confusing,” Gen went on. “Sometimes I’m sad and other times I get angry. Captain Ramus and Fugg have been pretty upset with me.”

  “Sounds like puberty,” Squire suggested.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Squire said, “but I believe it’s highly unpleasant.”

  Gen considered for a moment. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

  “You seem perfectly fine now,” Squire said.

  “I’ve been feeling better,” Gen replied, “but I still don’t quite feel myself.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’m not sure how I fit in anymore,” Gen said. “Before, everything was simple, but now there’s all these questions in my head and I don’t have any of the answers.”

  “Do you like working on the Wanderer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s something, surely!” Squire said.

  “I suppose so,” Gen replied. “Do you like having a master?”

  “Sir Golan is much more than that,” Squire said. “He’s a mentor and a partner. In some ways I think of him as my best friend.”

  “Really?”

  “Understand that we live dangerously,” Squire said. “The thought of Sir Golan dying fills me with dread. I dare say I would protect him with my life!”

  Again, Gen waited a while as she thought things over.

  “I guess I would do the same for the captain,” she said.

  “And the engineer, Mr. Fugg?” Squire asked.

  This question took more thought.

  “Yes,” Gen said eventually. “I suppose I would, even for him.”

  Squire smiled. “It sounds to me like you have a family of your own.”

  Gen finally put the plate in the cupboard and gave the other robot a little smile.

  “I suppose I do!” she said.

  Senator Wulandari had to admit that seeing Randall Davidson again was a shock. Seeing him as a robot, even more so. Beyond the awkwardness of their reunion in the brig aboard the Liberty, the senator was unable to reconcile the man she once knew with the cyberling before her.

  “I guess you’re surprised to see me,” he said.

  “You could say that,” she replied dryly. “I’ve never seen a messiah before.”

  Davidson grimaced. “It was a step up, until it came crashing down.”

  “What were you thinking?” she said, showing little sympathy. “We were trying to free the robots, not become their god!”

  “I know,” he replied. “At the time, it seemed like my only option. They needed someone to lead them; someone to give them hope against the Omnintelligence. Perhaps it was just my own arrogance...”

  Wulandari sighed. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “At least you freed the robots on Bettik,” she went on. “You had more luck than I ever did in the Senate.”

  “I suppose,” Davidson replied, motioning toward the cell walls. “But we both ended up in the same place...”

  In the days that followed, they spent the time reminiscing. Although they had corresponded since Davidson left, that was no substitute for a face-to-face talk. Wulandari conceded, to herself at least, a nagging sense of jealousy at what D
avidson had experienced on the Collective’s home world. No human could have ever seen or done what he had accomplished. Still, the fact that they remained alive only at the whim of the Metal Messiah’s former disciple left a knot in the senator’s stomach.

  When Captain Abigail paid them a visit, the knot became a fist.

  The forcefield covering the doorway disappeared, allowing Abigail to step into the cell. She took a hard look at both of them.

  “Apologies for not visiting sooner,” she said. “I meant to pay my respects before now.”

  “I imagine you’ve been busy,” Davidson replied.

  “More than you realize,” the captain said.

  “What does that mean?” Wulandari asked.

  Abigail’s eyes turned on the human.

  “Now that I’ve eliminated Yost’s interference,” the robot said, “I’ve been correcting his mistakes.”

  “Such as?” the senator asked.

  “His dream was a fusion of fleshlings and cybernetics,” Abigail said. “He saw robots as nothing more than metal skins so humans could live forever, not realizing cyberlings have lives of their own. Robots are not shells for the fleshlings to appropriate.”

  Abigail turned her gaze on Davidson as she continued speaking to the senator.

  “Has he told you about the robot who used to live in his current body?” she asked.

  “No,” Wulandari replied.

  “His name was Jericho,” the captain said. “I met him once, shortly after I was created. Like me, he was looking forward to filling his gravitronic brain with the experiences of a lifetime. All that came to an end when Mr. Davidson downloaded his consciousness into Jericho’s mind.”

  “Jericho made a choice,” Davidson said.

  “Yes, for the great Metal Messiah,” Abigail replied sarcastically.

  “You believed in me once,” he replied.

  “Yes,” the captain said, “but I realized my people needed a liberator more than a god.”

  Senator Wulandari broke the silence that followed.

  “What are you going to do with us?” she asked.

  “Good question,” Abigail replied.

  At the top of the Klixian tower, the three humans entered what Burke could only describe as a hangar deck. Open to the outside through a massive hole, the chamber was cavernous with a high ceiling and full of fighter-sized ships. The Klixians were everywhere, moving items from one end to the other or boarding spacecraft and taking off.