Legacy of the Argus

by E. R. Torre

  “Is this another trick?” the Prototype mused. “You’ve disabled my means of escape and our weapons are, for the moment, spent. Why do you show up here alone, where you know I can rip you apart?”

  “I came to speak to you one final time,” Vulcan said. “Before it ends.”

  “Then say your peace.”

  “I’ve sinned,” Saint Vulcan said. “I created a being I hoped would be my companion. My equal—”

  “Equal but always superior.”

  “My sin cost the lives of far too many people.”

  “The humans mean nothing,” the Prototype said. “We are the superior race.”

  “It doesn’t give us the right to treat them as if they were insignificant.”

  “I would sacrifice billions of them if necessary. I would kill billions more to get rid of you. That is the difference between you and I, father.”

  “You’re wrong,” Saint Vulcan said.

  The Prototype was surprised by Vulcan’s words.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you released the virus on Pomos, you knew it wouldn’t affect me,” Vulcan said. “You did this because you wanted me to help my people and, in doing so, expose myself to you. To the ships you had cloaked in orbit around the planet. I was left with but one course of action.”

  Saint Vulcan closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “I could have worked harder to find a cure to the virus. I could have found a way to fight your forces. I could have done so many things. But I was too weak and, had I done any of those things, you would have defeated me then and there. I was left with only one option. Only one way to save two Galactic Empires and buy the time needed so that I could confront you here and now, under my own terms. I had to let the people of Pomos die.”

  The Prototype’s black eyes opened very wide.

  “By destroying Pomos, I not only stopped the spread of your virus, I froze you in place,” Saint Vulcan said. “When Pomos died, it appeared I died along with her. You reveled in that fact but soon grew suspicious. Everything worked out a little too well, didn’t it? You feared I escaped Pomos and was planning a counterattack. You were so scared of that possibility that you hid your forces and your presence. While you continued building your war machines, you spent years sifting through Pomos’ ashes looking for any trace of me. Most importantly, you left humanity alone for fear of exposing yourself. Just as I knew you would.”

  Saint Vulcan’s shoulders sagged.

  “I let Pomos die so that humanity would live,” she said. “I sacrificed billions knowing one day I would confront you. That day has come.”

  The Prototype sneered.

  “Is that why you’re here? To show off your brilliance to your pathetic creation? Do you expect me to fall to my knees and submit to you?”

  Saint Vulcan was dead still for several seconds. Her eyes came up and locked onto the Prototype.

  “You know I could have my machine world finish off what’s left of you, Prototype,” Saint Vulcan said. “But it will not fire upon your ship.”

  Around her, the Prototype’s creatures stepped out of their shadows. Fearsome weapons lit up, at the ready for the attack.

  “As for offering mercy or hoping you would join me… that time has long since passed.”

  Saint Vulcan’s arms stretched out. Beneath her jacket was movement, as if insects squirming under her clothing. Her stare was ice cold.

  “I’ve come here for one reason only, Prototype. To personally destroy you.”

  “You are welcome to try.”

  The creature grimaced, exposing sharp teeth. The army of nano-probe robots hidden in the shadows moved, their rage barely contained. And then the Prototype and his horde of robotic beasts rushed forward and at Saint Vulcan.

  Saint Vulcan raised her arms. She looked like a preacher delivering a sermon. Her head arched back. Then it arched back even more. Farther and farther. No human being could bend their head that far back without breaking their spine.

  It was only in the last fraction of a second and just before the Prototype touched Saint Vulcan that he felt an energy burst like the fires of the sun itself.

  And then, everything went white.

  93

  On the bridge of the Cygnusa they watched as pinpricks of light –in reality bursts of energy thousands of miles wide– appeared throughout the surface of the Prototype’s planetoid.

  “By the Gods, look at the readings!” Lieutenant Sanders said.

  “She’s burning up from the inside out,” Becky Waters said.

  The pinpricks of light grew larger and larger and become jagged tears and rips. The light coming through was as bright as the stars themselves. The planetoid listed.

  “Back us up,” Raven ordered. “Full thrusters!”

  Even as the order was given, even as the engines hummed, there came one final burst of light, one brighter than any that preceded it.

  It was immediately followed by a fearsome shockwave.

  “Hang on!” Raven yelled.

  In moments the wave slammed against the Cygnusa and sent those who weren’t secured to the floor. The ship shook for several seconds and those aboard feared she would fall apart. Mercifully, the wave passed quickly and the shaking stopped.

  The people on the bridge slowly got to their feet. Several winced as they did. At least one, Weapons OP Hamilton, sported a dark bruise on his forehead and a bleeding nose.

  “Is everyone OK?” Raven asked.

  There were several grunts but no serious injuries reported. Likewise, reports from the ship suggested there were no serious injuries among the officers or scavengers.

  “Raven?” Cer said.

  Raven followed Cer’s gaze, as did all the others in the bridge.

  The Prototype’s planetoid hung in space, its body withered like rotted fruit, its hull ash. Pieces of her hull, charred and black and some as large as the largest megacities, split off and floated away.

  “Is it… is it over?” Becky Waters asked.

  There was no immediate answer to the question. Another monitor, this one next to Lieutenant Sanders, issued another alert.

  “There is no energy coming from the planetoid,” Lieutenant Sanders said. “But I am getting energy spikes from the machine world.”

  They watched, entranced and unsure what was to come.

  “Sir, the energy reading corresponds to a Displacer signature.”

  “Location?”

  “The machine world’s equator.”

  Lieutenant Sanders tapped more keys.

  “Sir, another ship has arrived.”

  “Type?”

  Lieutenant Sanders zoomed in on the vessel.

  “She’s roughly equal in size and mass to a shuttle craft. No more than twenty passenger capacity.”

  The ship appeared on the screen.

  “She’s one of Saint Vulcan’s ships,” Lieutenant Sanders said. “Sir, she’s trying to communicate!”

  “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

  The main view-screen switched from images of the newly arrived ship to that of a man sitting inside the vessel. He was in his mid-thirties and sported jet black hair.

  To everyone’s surprise, Cer said:

  “Dave Maddox? What in Hades are you doing here?”

  “You know him?” Raven said.

  “Is that you Cer?” Maddox said.

  “It is,” Cer said. “I…”

  She eyed Raven and said:

  “I’m sorry sir. Dave Maddox and I met when I was on a mission to Erebus.”

  “Erebus, eh?” Raven said. “I heard about that. You’ll have to fill me in.”

  “Cygnusa, we are a crew of two,” Dave Maddox continued. “Myself and a boy…”

  Seated beside Maddox was a very young boy. He was no older than eight and had dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. The boy stared at nothing at all and his body was atrophying. His hands were turned in, like claws.

  “Cer, you’re not going to believe this
, but Saint Vulcan sent me here,” Maddox said. “You know her? She was supposed to have died a long, long time—”

  “We’re only too aware of Saint Vulcan, Mister Maddox,” Raven said. “Why exactly did she send you here?”

  “I was hoping you guys could tell me,” Maddox said. “A couple of weeks ago we left Onia after the funeral of Nathaniel Torin and were returning to my home world. This vessel intercepted us in the Displacer’s interdimensional slipstream and took us to a small planet. Saint Vulcan was there. She treated us well and told us we’d be released soon. I suppose that day’s come.”

  “What happened to the boy?” Raven asked.

  “Something barbaric,” Maddox said. “Cer can give you the full details, but the short story is that as a baby memories were implanted inside him. These memories deteriorated to the point where he’s… well, you see what he’s become. His internal organs are failing and he needs medical care. With your permission, Commander, I’d like to get him to your sick bay as soon as possible. We can talk about Saint Vulcan or anything else you desire afterwards.”

  “I take it you can you vouch for him?” Raven asked Cer.

  “Absolutely,” Cer said.

  “All right, Mister Maddox,” Raven said. “Permission to enter the Cygnusa granted.”

  The ship landed near the Xendos and Security Guards surrounded the strange vessel.

  Dave Maddox exited the craft. He walked with a noticeable limp. Young Nathaniel came out immediately after. He was in a motorized medi-seat.

  “This way,” Sergeant Robbins told him.

  Maddox and the boy arrived shortly after at the Cygnusa’s medical bay.

  Medics checked Nathaniel’s vitals while transferring him into a bed. Dave Maddox was shocked to find B’taav lying on another bed a short distance away and, next to him, a woman he didn’t recognize. Sitting next to her was a second woman who looked familiar.

  “B’taav?” Dave Maddox said.

  B’taav opened his eyes. He smiled.

  “Maddox? How…?”

  “Take it easy, Independent,” Dave Maddox said. “You look like you could use some rest.”

  The door leading into the medical bay opened and Cer, Raven, and Becky Waters entered.

  “Inquisitor Cer!” Maddox said.

  “Just Cer,” she said. She grasped Maddox’s hands. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  “Welcome aboard the Cygnusa, Mister Maddox. I’m Raven, the ship’s commander.”

  Dave Maddox noted the man’s clothing.

  “Inquisitor?”

  “Like Cer, not anymore,” Raven said.

  “Well, thanks for letting us in,” Maddox said. “What about B’taav and the lady in the cot beside his? Who is she?”

  “Her name is Nox,” Cer said. She pointed to the woman sitting next to Nox and said: “This is Catherine Holland. They’re together.”

  The half-machine woman said:

  “And I’m Becky Waters.”

  “Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, perhaps its time you tell us what you know about Saint Vulcan and the Prototype,” Raven said.

  “Truthfully, not all that much,” Maddox said. “Saint Vulcan told me she had to battle her creation. Is that the Prototype you’re talking about?”

  “It is.”

  “Did they…?”

  “They fought,” Cer said. “Her creation appears dead. We’re not sure if Vulcan... if she still lives.”

  “Saint Vulcan said I was free the moment she took care of him,” Maddox said. “She meant what she said.”

  “Why did Saint Vulcan take you?” Raven asked. “And why did she send you here afterwards?”

  “As I said, I don’t know. I mean, she was kind enough even though she kidnapped us.”

  “That seems to be a pattern with Saint Vulcan,” Raven noted. “There’s no reason you can think of for why she wanted you here?”

  “Well, she did tell me something,” Maddox said. “She said Nathaniel would fix what was broken.”

  “Nathaniel?” Cer repeated. “What needed…?”

  “Sir?” one of the Medical Techs said.

  The four turned in that direction and found, to their surprise, young Nathaniel had opened his eyes and was lifting himself from his bed.

  “I can sense something about him,” Becky Waters said. “Something…”

  Dave Maddox rushed toward the boy, to lay him back in the bed, but Becky Waters moved quickly and grabbed him.

  “Leave him,” she said. She faced the medics. “Leave the boy alone!”

  Though very weak, Nathaniel got to his feet. He looked as if he would collapse but managed to take one unsteady step after the other and move forward.

  “He’ll hurt yourself!” Maddox said.

  “Let him be,” Becky Waters insisted. “Just… just let him be.”

  The child walked to Nox’s side. Catherine Holland watched with a mix of horror and curiosity as his tiny, fragile fingers reached out to the Mechanic.

  Young Nathaniel grabbed Nox’s limp hand and he closed his eyes. In that very moment, Nox let out a weak cough.

  “What’s…?” Catherine Holland said.

  The boy’s face twisted in pain. He whimpered. Then, incredibly, he let out a full throated yell.

  “By the Gods, what’s she doing to him!?” Maddox screamed.

  “Everyone needs to stay where they are!” Becky Waters commanded.

  “Can’t you see she’s hurting him?!” Maddox said.

  “You told us Nathaniel was dying,” Becky Waters said.

  “He is, but there is no need for him to suffer!”

  “You also said his memory implants had deteriorated.”

  “What does that—”

  “Let them be,” Becky Waters said. “It’s… it’s the best for both of them.”

  Nox coughed several more times while a deep, pained frown filled the boy’s face.

  “By the Gods,” Catherine Holland said, realization dawning on her. “Vulcan meant to put Paul Spradlin’s nano-probes in that boy’s body.”

  “Paul Spradlin?” Maddox said. “Who’s…?”

  “The Unknown Hero,” Cer said.

  “What?” Maddox said. “You mean the man from the Holy Texts?”

  “The same,” Catherine Holland said. “His memories are inside this woman in the form of microscopic robots. They’re killing her. They needed to come out.”

  Maddox’s face turned red.

  “They’re killing her? What will they do to the boy?”

  “Unlike Nox, there’s nothing left in the boy to destroy,” Becky Waters said.

  Maddox was about to say something but didn’t. The anger in his face was replaced with anguish. He choked back tears and turned away.

  “This… this is too much…” he said.

  There was no way he could watch the transformation.

  94

  It took an agonizing half hour for the process to work itself out.

  When it was done, young Nathaniel released Nox’s hand and fell back in his medi-chair. After a very long minute, his hands, no longer lifeless claws, came up and rubbed his eyes. Beside him and on the bed Nox, for the first time in many days, breathed easy. Her eyes fluttered under their lids.

  “Look at their readings,” Cer said.

  Both Nathaniel and Nox’s medical readings were stabilizing.

  “Is that it?” Catherine Holland asked. “Are Spradlin’s nano-probes in the boy?”

  Neither the Medical Techs nor the others in the room knew for sure.

  Becky Waters leaned down before the child.

  “How are you?” she asked, her voice breaking with emotions.

  The boy opened his eyes and stared into Becky Waters’ metallic eyes. For a moment, he looked confused. His eyes soon focused and his mouth moved.

  “Becky?” he said.

  Becky Waters was startled by the boy’s voice. It wasn’t that of a young child. It was the voice of an adult, one Becky Waters
instantly recognized and thought would never hear again.

  “Paul?” she said and suppressed a gasp. “Is that… is that you?”

  The boy didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he looked to the back of the room.

  “Mister Maddox,” he said. “Please… can you come here?”

  Dave Maddox hesitated before walking to the boy’s side. His eyes were red with emotions.

  “Nathaniel had one last message for you before… before he left,” the boy said.

  “What did he…?”

  “You saved me,” the boy said. His voice was no longer Paul Spradlin’s but that of young Nathaniel. “I was never meant to be here permanently. Thanks to you, this body has a chance to live a full life, even if it will not carry my memories.”

  “I…” Maddox said. “I don’t know what to say…”

  “There is nothing to say. Thank you for caring for me all this time. Thank you for bringing this body here, and allowing it to take in its next, permanent implant. Please don’t be sad. Nathaniel Torin’s time ended long ago. Thank you… thank you…”

  The boy closed his eyes and, when they opened, Paul Spradlin was back.

  “Did… did Saint Vulcan plan this?” Maddox asked. “Did she plan this all along?”

  “I… I guess,” the boy, whose voice was again Paul Spradlin’s said. “She must have known Nox carried my nano-probes. She must have thought this out… What about… what about Nox?”

  The group’s attention turned to Nox. Catherine Holland was at her side. She gripped her hands while tears flowed down her cheeks.

  “Nox,” she said. “Please wake up.”

  Nox let out another cough and her eyes slowly fluttered open. She looked up, then to her side and at the woman before her. She closed her eyes once again.

  “I must be dreaming,” she said. A tear fell down her cheek.

  “You’re not,” Catherine Holland replied.

  “It has to be a dream,” Nox insisted. More tears formed on the edge of her eyes. “I never… never thought I’d see you again. The last time, you were hurt. So bad…”

  “I got better,” Catherine Holland said. “So will you.”

  Nox’s breathing grew stronger with each passing second and color returned to her face.