Science Fiction Fantasies: Tales and Origins

by Unknown

  I filed a preliminary report through my neuro-implant and received a quick reply. I was late. The Counts Palatine, Bertrand D'Arcy's title as ruler of Eris, had called a meeting. I was supposed to be giving a briefing about the riot.

  The council would ask why I didn't arrest the surviving Fleshies. At the moment, I had no answer. I didn't know. Not true, I told myself. It wasn't their fault. That belief was going to cause a confrontation between Dmitri and myself.

  Those mechs had fought back. The council clearly forbade Dmitri to program his mechs with that protocol. It was so like Dmitri to spit in the council's eye. There was only one voice Dmitri listened to and it wasn't his cousin's, Bertrand D'Arcy. It wasn't mine either.

  Dmitri wanted to eliminate the Fleshies. He had been against hiring them in the first place. When Bertrand forced the Emigration Act, forbidding Fleshies to leave Eris, Dmitri was nearly apoplectic. It was easy to see he was going to do something, but extermination was going too far.

  I had to stop it, stop him. The Knyaz was morally wrong, not that I particularly cared about that. The Fleshies had exiled me, after all. No, my problem was with the Planetary Peacekeepers. They frowned on slavery. Especially the enslaving of Terrans. So far they had accepted Bertrand's promise that the Emigration Act was only temporary. If word got out that mechs on Eris were allowed to kill Fleshies, that would be more than the Peacekeepers would endure.

  I had a solution, but I figured the council would get pissed off if I just killed Dmitri. I was going to have to talk my way out of this one.

  Arriving at the council chambers, I heard the banging of the gavel as soon as the pneumatic doors opened. Dmitri must have irritated Bertrand. With his sophisticated upbringing, Bertrand rarely showed emotion, but the gavel gave him away. He used it a lot when he was frustrated. Bertrand held off speaking until I sat down.

  I read your preliminary report, General Urakurtz," said Bertrand.

  "Ex-general," sniped Dmitri.

  Dmitri's nano-enhanced features were more Caucasian than Eurasian, slim, with dark hair. I could have crushed him if he were flesh and blood. Instead, I ignored the little shit.

  So did Bertrand. "Kwami, please fill us in on the rest of the details."

  "Thank you, Counts Palatine. As you read, the final tally was five Fleshies dead, two Mark Two's reduced to scrap. The bodies and pieces were ejected out of Justice Lock." I turned to Dmitri, "The third mech, is that a new model?"

  Smarmy by nature, Dmitri responded, "Yes. A Petronovich Mark Three."

  "Ah, They look a lot better than the Mark Twos," I said. "But they smell the same when they are cut in half by a whiner."

  Dmitri jumped out of his chair. "You killed it?"

  Anger sharpened my voice. "I destroyed it." Turning to Stuart, usually the swing vote among the Royals, I went on, "The Mark Three attacked and killed five Fleshies."

  "Are-eh, that's a proper 'arl that," said Stuart lapsing into his native scouse.

  "Cruel? Unfair? Grow up, guttersnipe," said Dmitri. "The Fleshies are reproducing like viruses. We have to keep them in check."Stuart spoke standard English this time. "Bert, we decided. Mechs were not to take Fleshie lives."

  "This is going to bring the Planetary Peacekeepers down on us," I added. "We barely escaped their wrath about the Emigration Act. Counts Palatine, are you prepared to fight? You'd better be, because allowing mechs to kill Fleshies will remind the Earthers why they exiled us in the first place."

  "We were exiled because you couldn't keep your fucking zipper or your mouth shut!" stormed Dmitri.

  I flung back, "Maybe if you hadn't been such a stingy-ass, that reporter would have killed the story."

  "You'd have just let your testosterone overcome what few gray cells you actually have and gotten us in trouble again," huffed Dmitri. "I wasn't going to bankrupt the h+ers to pay for your crude appetites."

  I lunged toward Dmitri. I'd taken all the backtalk I was going to take from his sniveling little ass. The banging of Bertrand's gavel brought me up short. I hate that damn gavel.

  "General Urakurtz!" said Bertrand with a final resounding bang.

  I gave Dmitri a last murderous glare before composing myself. "I apologize, Counts Palatine. I have a message from the Fleshie spokesman. They will not allow mechs to man the Justice Lock. They will not be killed by mechs. I suggest we give serious thought to that fact, Counts Palatine. That and conscription. If we are going to fight the Peacekeepers, I'll need more men and time to train them."

  "Bert," said Dmitri, "half of the Peacekeeper senior officers are our clients. The other half are saving money for their life-extending enhancements. Just like the Emigration Act, they will complain and do nothing."

  Bertrand looked at me.

  It was frustrating explaining to these educated idiots that flesh and blood people wouldn't stand for mechs having the authority to kill them. The Royals simply refused to listen. I tried one more time. "Counts Palatine, you will be making a mistake. Again. You simply cannot treat the Fleshies with contempt." I ignored Dmitri's scowl. "Their knowledge and expertise is still necessary. Unless you plan on drilling out our paradise yourself, Bertrand, I suggest you listen to them and bend a little."

  "Bert, have you looked at the time tables lately?" said Dmitri. "We are falling farther and farther behind."

  "I silently cursed Dmitri for bringing up the schedule. Bertrand hated falling behind schedule. I think it went against his genetic code.

  Bertrand turned to Stuart. "Stuart, have you anything to add?"

  "These rock drillers have very aggressive tendencies. I think we should put something in the water to calm them down a bit. Until that happens, I suggest we listen to Kwami.:

  Dmitri squirmed in his seat.

  "Go ahead, Dmitri," said Bertrand.

  Here it comes, I thought. Dmitri is going to throw a spanner in the works.

  "The solution is simple," said Dmitri. "We convert them all to cyborgs.

  Incredulous, I jumped out of my chair. "Are you fucking crazy? You can't turn the entire Fleshie population into cyborgs! You'll turn a riot into a revolt."

  "Actually, I can." Dmitri turned to Bertrand. "I have portable sickbays ready.

  We can start with the drillers and work our way through the families. In the meantime we put contraceptives in the water to stop reproduction." Dmitri brought his index fingers together and drew them apart. A simulated computer keyboard glittered in the air in front of him. "I can send the financials to you now, Bert. You'll find it a lot cheaper than supplying AIs to the new Mark Threes."

  Bertrand nodded.

  I shook my head from side to side. Unable to shake my utter contempt, I rose to leave.

  "We have more to discuss, General Urakurtz," said Bertrand.

  "I do not have time for discussions, Counts Palatine. If you are going to insist on this disaster, then I have to prepare my troops.

  Back in my First Level Security detachment office, I denied my burning anger. It would not provide any positive results. Instead, I reviewed my resources. I had one man for every ten drillers. Isolated, small disturbances wouldn't be a problem, but if the Fleshies rioted en masse I would be hard put to stop it.

  Nor was my surveillance network anything to brag about. Outside of the finished areas, it amounted to little more than the cameras of the safety net monitoring for cave-ins. I was willing to bet the trouble would start in the drilling caves. If it started instead in one of the larger areas like Ramp Plaza, a lot of innocent people would die.

  My only advantage would be in firepower. We had the new sonic rifles, Petronovich SR-2s. The pulses were nasty, vicious, and turned everything they touched into smoking goo, reeking of cooked entrails.

  The heaviest weapon the drillers would have was their cutting lasers. Built for slicing through iron and granite, they would decimate Fleshie or mech bodies with ease. Their only drawback was their size. They were bulky and unwieldy.

  My best bet for victory was to be proactive,
but I refused to consider a pre-emptive attack. My job was to save lives. All I could do was watch and wait. I put all three security detachments on alert.

  Trouble began during the next shift. The drilling tunnels on Fourth Level suddenly went dark. I couldn't bring the cameras back online. For the first time in my life, I wished I had one of Dmitri's AIs. With that I could have accessed any sensor I needed, not just the cameras. As it was, I was blind.

  Needing to be there, I deployed with Alpha detachment to investigate. Exiting Fourth Level Ramp Plaza, the tunnel lights leading to the drilling area went dark. My anxiety level went up. Flipping down my infrared, anti-flash goggles, I plunged through the darkness. On the outer edges of my goggles were red dots. Five on each side, corresponding to the members of Alpha detachment. Satisfied we were still a functioning unit, I continued. Half a klick later I met up with the Fleshies. Alpha detachment approached carefully, giving a wide berth to the cutters now facing the way we came.

  The Fleshies didn't give me a chance to speak. They let loose with their cutting lasers. We immediately brought our whiners to bear. Then I realized the cutter's pulses were passing over our heads. I keyed my throat mic and whispered, "Hold your fire."

  I looked back down the tunnel. Through the after images of the laser I saw four mechs simply cease to exist. I couldn't believe it. That dumb bastard, Dmitri had actually done it. He's convinced the council to forcibly convert the Fleshies to cyborgs. Grinning with what I knew to be a feral expression, I welcomed the zone. Motioning the detachment to hit the deck, I crabbed to the edge of the tunnel and keyed my mic. "Hug the edges. Face back. We got mechs coming. They are hostile."

  I brought my whiner up and fired. It struck a mech chest center, right through its processor. A glowing hole traced its fall. Another blast from a Fleshie cutter took out more of the mechs. Return fire from the mechs passed over me. They were going for the cutters. I didn't blame them.

  The mechs advanced upright. Left side firing, right side moving. Right side firing, left side moving. The darkness was filled with barking whiners, the high pitched hum of the cutter's charging units, and the taste of iodized oxygen.

  It would have been entertaining to watch if Alpha detachment wasn't stuck in the middle. As it was, our nuts were caught in a vise. We had to move.

  I rose to a crouch. despite the danger, I meant to dash forward. It was a ludicrous thing to do. The unexpected usually is. A cutter erupted in a brilliant whitish glow as the mechs whiners took out the charging unit. I heard a rumble in the cave ceiling. I didn't want to be caught in a cave-in. I keyed my mic, "Forward."

  We advanced in a staggering motion, half the detachment always firing. It wasn't much different from the mechs advance, only we stayed low. Above me I saw the flash of a cutter's beam carving an erratic pattern in the ceiling in front of us. My heart began pounding. "Fall back," I screamed. "Cave in."

  I hurled myself backwards. Not far enough. Rubble fell about me. One piece struck my right shoulder. I felt a sharp slicing sensation. It burned for a moment, then was gone. The force of the impact shoved me back toward the Fleshies. My left arm jammed against the tunnel wall. I threw my right arm forward to cushion my fall. My face tried to carve a furrow in the tunnel floor as I landed.

  I turned my head to find out why and through the blood dripping into my eyes, discovered my right arm had been severed at the shoulder. I stared in disbelief. I couldn't breathe. More debris fell, smashing onto my hip and legs. I couldn't move. Through the dim, dust-filled air I saw movement. A figure approached me. I reached for my rifle.

  "That's going to hurt like a bitch."

  My eyes narrowed in disgust. I knew that voice. Dmitri. He squat before me.

  "That really sucks about your arm," he said. "It looks like you might bleed out pretty quick."

  I didn't need to hear the truth in his voice. I felt it. I felt the blood spurting, heard it splashing on the tunnel wall. I saw the white gleam of bones that used to be my shoulder joint. Dropping adrenaline levels allowed tingles of pain to make it to my brain. Through my grimace, I smiled up a Dmitri. Resigned, I said, "I guess you won't have to put up with me much longer."

  "Now where would be the fun in that?" Dmitri asked.

  I raised an eyebrow. He tucked his baton-like rod under one arm. With his other he passed a small device over his left leg. A panel opened and Dmitri removed what appeared to be a square cloth. He placed it over my shoulder joint. Immediately I felt a lessening of the burning ache of severed nerve endings. My arteries began to knit closed. My eyes widened in surprise.

  "Nanos are amazing things, Kwami. Right now they are multiplying at phenomenal speed, blocking nerve endings, closing arteries and capillaries, and encouraging re-growth of epidermis cells. They are healing you."

  There must have been an opiod infusion in the cloth as well. A sense of euphoria crept up on me. Through the dust-laden murk, I saw mech creeping toward the Fleshies and I didn't care. "Why are you helping me?"

  "You know, Kwami, we are not so different you and me. Besides, it would be boring here without you. And I'm going to need your help on the council."

  Dmitri hated being bored. I felt my face stretch. I laughed. Opiates make everything funny, even helping Dmitri.

  He squatted next to me. "You'll have to upload, of course."

  There it was. That was the kicker. Dmitri would save my life if I became a mech like him. I laughed again.

  Dmitri added to his argument. "Look at this body, Kwami."

  He raised my leg out of the rubble. He wrapped his mechanical fingers around my ankle and squeezed. The bones snapped as they crushed.

  Despite the pain killer, I felt stabbing needles of agony. I winced.

  "It's so fragile," Dmitri continued. "It's completely ruined. What do you say, Kwami? This is your last chance. Upload and be made whole."

  I hefted my whiner up before my face. With my thumb hidden from Dmitri's view, I keyed my throat mic and left it open. "I'd have to stand ready."

  "Ready for what?" asked Dmitri.

  In my goggles I saw six dots light up. Within me a warm glow competed with the opiod. Alpha detachment was charged and ready. I commanded, "Fire."

  Six whiners barked in the dark. They laid down a continuous field of fire. Four took out mechs ahead of me. Two struck Dmitri. The pulses came in waist high, bent up as they neared Dmitri, and struck him in the head. Dmitri's head seemed to glow. The high-pitched whine devolved into a low-pitched growl, then ceased. Amazingly, Dmitri was unscathed. He rose to his full height.

  I stared. I had never seen anything like it.

  Dmitri smiled and pointed to a thin, braided, coppery wire he wore around his forehead and temples like a circlet. "What do you think? I call it a Halo. Ingenious, isn't it? It's like an energy wave magnet, drawing and absorbing all beam weapons."

  He raised his baton and pointed it down tunnel. Two beams shot out from it. Two of my men screamed. "It also returns the energy to its source. It's an ELF. Extreme Low Frequency. I'm really quite fond of it.

  Over-awed in my drug-induced state, I could think of nothing to say. A commotion began up-tunnel. Fleshies swarmed en masse out of the murky, dust-filled darkness. Overrunning the mechs, they filled the tunnel with beams from lasers and a few whiners. Dmitri's mechs took heavy casualties. They began falling back.

  Dmitri studied the onrushing Fleshies. "Hmmm, I may have to revise my opinion of Fleshies." Dmitri cut his eyes back to me. "Goodbye, Kwami. Enjoy your last few moments with your new friends."

  He pointed his baton at me. I stared stupidly at it. Several shots from lasers and whiners slammed into Dmitri's Halo. He began to quiver as if he were suffering a systems overload. He loosed a long blast from his baton. Instead of striking me, the beam sped off in the direction of the lasers that struck the Halo. The baton's energy spent, Dmitri turned and ran back the way he came, disappearing in the murk.

  Out of the gloom came the Fleshie spokesman from the Holding Cells. He
stopped in front of me. "It's you. You saved us, again. We thought the cave-in got them all. We'd already left. Your firing brought us back. If not for you, they would have ambushed us. Instead, we're driving them all the way back to the plaza.”

  I should have felt gratitude. Instead, I felt numb. "Do you know who I am?"

  The spokesman took out his knife and cut his palm. He held up his bleeding hand. "I know you, Kwami Urakurtz. I know this, too. You bleed." He pointed to two men. "Dig him out. The rest of you gather up the dropped weapons."

  Suddenly tired, I rested my head against the tunnel wall. I needed to sleep. The tunnel rumbled. I looked up. A single chunk of granite dislodged and fell from the ceiling. My world went dark.

  I opened my eyes. My body felt odd. I could see, but it was different. Sharper. Clearer. I looked around. I was in a small sickbay, lying in a sani-bed. Surprisingly, I felt no confusion. It was more like curiosity. Sitting up, I heard the faintest sound of a servo. I caught a sense of motion and looked toward the door. Through it walked the Fleshie spokesman. With him was a smaller man in a white lab coat.

  "How do feel? Does everything work?" asked the man in the coat.

  Work? I brought my right hand up to scratch my forehead. I pulled it down before my eyes. "My right hand." Emotions flooded through me; shock, surprise, confusion. I couldn't settle on one. Memories kept me spinning. "But, I lost my arm."

  "Along with both legs," said the man in the lab coat.

  He must have been a doctor. I heard his words, but could not comprehend their meaning.

  "It was the nanos that kept you alive," said the doctor.

  It all came back to me. My eyes widened in terror, my breath came in gasps. I whimpered as ,in slow motion, I remembered a chunk of granite fall from the ceiling and smash into my face. My subconscious had suppressed the memory. Now, something else controlled memory function. Something clinical.

  I touched my head. "How much?"

  "Brain loss? Eighty percent," the doctor hurried on. "I saved as much as I could. Fortunately, the Knyaz left this portable sickbay behind when he ran away.. Well stocked, too. It had the latest in AIs."