Prometheus Unites (The Great Insurrection Book 5)

by David Beers

  He brought his Whip up in front of him, the laser's strands twirling around each other to form a sword-like weapon. He grabbed the hilt with both hands.

  “Duck.”

  He and the droids looked at the circular room’s entrance. Veena was back, a MechPulse in her hands.

  Ares didn’t have time to question or refuse. He simply ducked and rolled to his left.

  She fired the weapon, and the droids were slammed into the wall before slumping to the floor, dead yet again.

  Ares lurched to his feet. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Veena walked closer to him, the MechPulse aimed at the self-repairing droids. “It seems every bad decision I’ve ever made has been when I was around you. I don’t see any reason to stop that now.”

  Ares heard her words and understood the truth beneath them. She wouldn’t lose her honor to man or machine, or whatever the fuck this creation in the middle of nowhere was.

  He said nothing, only raised his weapon, again ready to die—this time with a friend at his side.

  The droids all rose off the floor as if they were puppets on strings.

  When the walls spoke, gone was the thunder of gods. It was replaced by a voice that sounded human. A male voice. “That’s enough.”

  The droids’ lasers retracted into their arms. The laser spikes on their torsos and legs disappeared back inside. The strips across their skulls dimmed and then went out.

  Neither Ares nor Veena lowered their weapons. It wasn’t until Ares heard the sound of the liquid metal to his right that he looked over. Another hallway had appeared, the wave running away from them this time, down into the darkness.

  “Come,” the voice said. “You will have safe passage.”

  A single line of lights lit up on both sides of the new hall, allowing them to see where they were walking. Ares looked back at the droids, but they were gone.

  Veena was still staring at where they’d been. “The wall, it came out and got them.”

  Ares was exhausted, though that word only hinted at what his body felt like.

  “Come,” the voice said again.

  Ares could think of nothing else to do but listen to the voice. His mind was non-functional, and thank the gods Veena understood.

  “Let’s go.” She took the lead, and they walked down the new passage. It took just minutes this time, though Ares didn’t bother looking at his HUD. He followed Veena and prayed they didn’t have to fight again. He would defend them if necessary but understood the result would come fast and wouldn’t be in their favor.

  The hall sloped downward, which meant they were walking into the middle of the structure. It ended in a globe-like room with only the floor not curved.

  A man sat on a ledge that came up to Ares’ head. His feet hung off it, and the clothes he wore were very strange. Ares thought he might be able to place them if he wasn’t so drained, but for the moment, they were lost to him.

  “Romulus de Livius and Veena de Ragnimus.” The man’s voice crackled as he spoke, which was the first hint that they weren’t looking at a living human. “Do you know who I am?”

  Both of the Earthborn shook their heads.

  “No one who has made it this far has known, so don’t feel bad.” His feet dangled over the ledge, lazily kicking. “Since you’re here, I assume you’re after the algorithm. This place has been here for many centuries, and no one has come here except for that reason. It’s true for you also?”

  “It is,” Veena answered.

  Ares was half-paying attention to the man and half-reading his HUD, trying to understand this room. The man was a holovid, reasonably well kept up given the distance of this place from neighboring habitable planets. Ares assumed the droids did the upkeep. There was also some kind of AI at work here.

  “Unfortunately for you two, I am not the algorithm. Your journey, if you continue onward, merely passes through this place.”

  “What is this place?” Veena asked.

  “There’s a long version and a short version. Which would you prefer to hear?”

  Ares spoke up. “The short version.”

  “Good enough for me. If you get to the algorithm, you will probably hear the long version anyway.” The holovid interlaced his fingers, turned his hands palm out, and stretched his knuckles. “At some point in the distant past, a group of people found the same key you did, typed it into a ship-based AI, and went after the algorithm. As you’ve no doubt deduced by now, the original ship that contained the algorithm survived, or there would most likely be a plethora of the algorithms in existence.”

  Ares glanced at Veena. She refused to look his way.

  “Nearly every group that went after the algorithm died. One, however, did not, and they built this place. They are my creators. I do not know who they are, whether they are human or another species. I do not know anything about them except that they seemed to know a bit about me. What you’re looking at is a representation of the man who set the algorithm loose. Whether I resemble him or not, who can say? I’m rambling now. Let me get back on topic. The group that created this place took many, many years to do so, and when they were finished, they left it forever.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is the universe expanding at an ever-increasing rate? Who can say? If I had to guess, it’s because whatever awaited them at the algorithm was much too deadly to defeat. I think this is a testing ground for what comes next, but I was not endowed with that knowledge either.”

  Veena shook her head, obviously not buying the story. “A group or species advanced enough to create this place wouldn’t fear anything. If you can create a self-contained ecosystem that continuously repairs itself, you can find that algorithm.”

  The holovid shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. Or perhaps there’s more to the story than either of us knows. I don’t have the answer, and neither of you two does either. I only know when you have passed the test, which you did.”

  A question came to Ares. “Since you were built, how many people or groups have come through here?”

  “You are the tenth.”

  Ares asked, “How many passed the test?”

  “You were the second.”

  “And the others? What happened to them?”

  The holovid replied, “I am fairly certain they failed. They would have most likely had to come back this way, and there has been no sight of them.”

  “What happens next?” Veena asked.

  “That’s up to you. Both of you understand the risks involved now and that the likelihood of success is near zero. I have given your ship back its full power, plus given your AI some helpful tips for the future, regardless of whether you go on or go back. If you go forward, the digits you put in will take over, and you’ll go to the next spot on the trip. If you go home,” he said, shrugging, “you go home.”

  Veena finally looked at Ares. He had retracted his helmet into his neckline so they could see each other.

  “I don’t have a home,” she said.

  “Yeah, I don’t think I do either.”

  “You believe it’s real?”

  Ares was quiet for a moment. When he answered, it was truthful. “I don’t know. Something is at the end of this, though, and after what just happened, I’d like to find out what.”

  Veena looked at the floor with a smile on her face. “Every bad decision, they’re all made around you. Fuck it. Let’s go see what killed all the people before us.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hector de Gracilis, the grandson of Caius de Gracilis, had just made his first trip to Earth. It was a short trip, and the fourth-dimensional travel caused no distress to his body.

  The landing had been simple, and he understood his grandfather’s wishes. He was not to be seen until the meeting with the Propraetors. Even the servants of the Gracilis lineage would not have access to Hector.

  Which was fine with the young man. In some ways—many ways—he was naive. He knew nothing about politics. He trusted his grandfather to make
the right decisions and went along with them the way a sheep trusted its shepherd.

  When he arrived on Earth, the meeting wasn’t scheduled for another twenty-four hours, so Hector retired to the room given him. He didn’t know what his grandfather had told those who asked why he had requested a second room. He wasn’t supposed to know, and when it was time, his grandfather would tell him.

  What Hector knew, what his whole life had led to, was war.

  Not the type of war Titans knew. He didn’t know about going up skyscrapers, MechSuits in place, ready to destroy woefully unprepared enemies. He didn’t know the war they taught in the Commonwealth’s Institutes since his grandfather had not sent him there. Hector didn’t know the wars that took place in space between fleets, at least not yet, though his grandfather had mentioned that would come soon.

  Hector knew the type of war that took place on a battlefield. He knew wars where sometimes you had to sleep partly in the carcass of your enemy because the night was growing too cold to survive otherwise. Hector knew what it was like to stick a decapitated head on a post and do it one hundred more times, lining a road so that any who dared come that way knew the type of opposition they would meet.

  Hector de Gracilis knew war in many ways, but really only in one. Winning mattered above all else. To lose even a single battle would be to lose one’s dignity, respect, and perhaps even one’s soul. He had no women to love, no brothers to share camaraderie with. Hector had only war, and it was a life he was more than satisfied with.

  There are places in the Solar System that have been terraformed but are unexplored. The rivers that flow through the dense forests sometimes leak beneath the surface of the river basin. The water flows down to underground caves unknown by man or beast, and there they form pools. Over centuries, tiny fish have evolved within these pools. They’re white and blind, having never seen light. They are content in their pools with their blind bodies, having no knowledge of anything else.

  Hector de Gracilis, in his way, was a lot like those fish. His pool was war. His knowledge was bloodshed and victory.

  When he retired to his room, he read a biography written two hundred years after the first Ascendant’s passing. Hector understood that a lot of this history had been whitewashed by the man, but his genius couldn’t be denied. Never before and never since had anyone done anything resembling what he’d accomplished.

  For three hours, he delved into the book.

  The knock on the door snapped him out of his focus.

  “It’s a weary old man, Hector. Let me sit with you for a few moments.”

  Hector put the book down and moved to the door. He waved his hand at the panel on the right, and the door opened, revealing his grandfather Caius. The two embraced and Hector pulled a chair over to the reclining seat he’d been lounging on. He sat in it to show his grandfather the proper respect.

  “I know you’ve read that before,” Caius said, pointing at the discarded book.

  “A few times. I figured this being my first time on Earth, I should give it another ago.”

  Caius pulled out a small black orb from his tunic’s pocket. He pressed a button on top, and a green light flashed on around its edge.

  “It’s a small StealthBlanket. It’ll ensure that anyone who tries to listen to us will hear an extremely boring conversation.” He placed the small orb on the table the book lay on. “Tomorrow you’ll meet the first Ascendant’s lineage, and I wanted to discuss what you can expect and what is expected of you.”

  “Of course,” Hector answered.

  Caius leaned back in his chair. The man was still strong and capable and had he sat in front of anyone except Hector, he would have appeared a formidable adversary. In front of Hector, he looked like a tired old man.

  “Once we leave for the meeting, I cannot hide you any longer. You will be noticed. People will remember a man of your size and appearance. It’s important, Hector, that you do not show that you know they notice, though you will know. Your eyes should be forward the entire time, and when we sit with the Ascendant and the Propraetors, you should be silent until called on to speak.”

  “I understand,” Hector responded.

  Caius nodded. “Yes, of course. I knew you would. Now, they are going to ask who you are, and they are going to suspect you’ve been modified. Some might call you a mutant, though there will be no proof. I can deal with those accusations, and you must show no anger. When it is your time to speak, all you are to do is to profess your loyalty to the Commonwealth and the Imperial Ascendant. You should go and kneel before the man. Let him touch your head or shoulders or whatever it is that he does. Those things aren’t important, Hector. We are entering a dangerous time for you and me because no one can look at you or know I have kept you hidden for all these years and not wonder if I don’t have ulterior motives.”

  Caius met Hector’s eyes. The young man knew what he meant. While those fish didn’t understand why they lived in that pool and could not see, Hector did understand why his life was nothing but war.

  “We are beginning the endgame, my grandson. There is a new element thrown in, this Titan who conquers worlds, but I don’t think he’ll be a match for you. If we beat him, we will rise. The other Propraetors, even the Ascendant, they’ve all grown weak. Perhaps I’ve grown weak.“

  Hector opened his mouth to argue, but Caius waved him off.

  “Yes, I’m sure I have grown weak, as wealth and power will make a man do. You, though. You have remained strong, and while I might be biased, I believe you grow stronger with each passing year. You’re the reason the original Ascendant did what he did—so men like you could rule, creating safety for the weak. Tomorrow those who can only wish for the throne will meet the man who will one day take it. Remember, insults are nothing to the gods, and you are as close to them as any human I’ve ever met. Bow, perform the rituals, and let us make it to the coming war. After that, no human in the Solar System will deny you your rightful spot.”

  Hector went to his knees then, and although Caius tried to protest, the young man’s strong voice shut the older man down.

  “Thank you, Grandfather, for what you’ve made me and the opportunities before me.” He bowed his head at Caius’ knees. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  “I know you won’t. Now, up, up! Grovel tomorrow. Your loyalty to me needs no demonstration. Your life lived has proven it more than enough times.”

  The morning of the fateful meeting, Caius found he was nervous. He didn’t feel like a traitor, though some might call him that in the future. He had always been loyal to the Commonwealth, and his coming act was nothing more than him showing that loyalty. The Commonwealth was never about one man. It was about “One People. One Purpose.”

  The present-day leaders were weak, and that was why this Titan could threaten an entire civilization.

  No, Caius wasn’t a traitor. He was the most loyal servant the Commonwealth had ever known. He’d sacrificed two lives—three if his own was included—to ensure that those who led the Commonwealth were fit to do so.

  The nerves stemmed from the danger, and there was no way to avoid it. After the meeting today, the de Gracilis name would be known as a contender for the Ascendancy. Certainly, no one considered Alexander’s son a possible heir. The man was in his mid-twenties and feckless. Everyone sitting around that table had to know that the family who performed the best in the coming war would assume the Ascendancy.

  Perhaps there would be other surprises in the room today, though from everything Caius knew, none like his.

  His main worry was whether the Ascendant would make an attempt on his or Hector’s life before the war. It would certainly come into de Finita’s mind. Not doing so might lead to the fall of his family’s empire. Doing so might lead to the fall of the entire empire.

  If an attempt did occur, Caius and Hector would probably survive. The odds weren’t great, but he put them at better than fifty-fifty.

  Yet, as Caius dressed for the meeting, he hoped the
Ascendant was as loyal to the Commonwealth as he was. He hoped the man had enough honor to let the strongest hold the throne.

  Otherwise, war might break out before the Titan returned home, and that would be very costly.

  Alexander de Finita’s face showed nothing. He saw a young man, monstrous in size, his presence like that of a god of war, but he didn’t let his face show that he’d seen him. He didn’t even glance in the young man’s direction as he sat behind Caius.

  No one in this room was a fool, though, of the seven Propraetors, some lacked the strict training afforded Alexander. Their faces showed their thoughts.

  Alexander didn’t need to ask a single question to understand what Caius’ plan had been all along. He’d known the man’s son, the perfect politician Caius had molded him into.

  So, it was a two-pronged approach from the beginning, Caius? One would be the politician and one the warrior, but the politician is dead, so here you sit with this giant behind you. He wanted to smile but didn’t. It would have been less obvious if Caius had sent a batch of poison to Alexander.

  He would have to deal with this later because it was necessary to remind those here who sat upon the throne.

  The table in front of him stretched from one end of the room to the other in a rectangular shape, and he sat at the head. Three Propraetors were on one side, four on the other, each with a second in command sitting behind them.

  A glass of water was in front of each of the Propraetors. None were drinking anything stronger yet, though Alexander imagined it might happen later. He wouldn’t partake, of course, especially not after seeing the monster behind Caius.

  Alexander stood up, his purple robe hanging down to his feet.

  His voice was strong and sure. Caius might think he had the upper hand, but Alexander had not lived this long without playing the game well.

  “You all know why you’re here. The ex-Titan, Alistair Kane, is amassing an army, and his intention is clear: to come back here and destroy what has held humanity together for the past thousand years.”