Science and Sorcery Box Set

by Ryan Tang

  "Captain! My captain!"

  Stock gaped in shock, wonder etched in every inch of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the podium with both hands.

  Nothing happened.

  Another tendril spawned and smacked him right in the middle of the head.

  Her students began to laugh.

  Stock whirled to scream at them, but then he caught himself.

  He took one deep breath, then another.

  He stared at Alex, his eyes filled with hunger.

  "Alright. I came to fire you all. But now you've done something that's caught my interest. Maybe you're not worthless after all. How would you like to work for me?"

  Emile stood up, a deep frown on her face.

  "What do you mean came here to fire us?"

  Stock grinned from ear to ear as he pulled a stack of papers from his bag.

  "Your nonsense was so distracting I almost forgot what I came here to do!"

  He swaggered up to the round table and pointed rudely right in Mrs. T's face.

  "Fired!"

  What?

  Without sparing her a second glance, he did the same thing to Margaret, Mark, and Emile. Stock jabbed his finger so close he poked Emile in the eye. She let out a cry of surprise and pain. He simply giggled.

  "Fired!"

  "Fired!"

  "Fired!"

  He cackled, waving the thick stack of papers back and forth.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You can't fire us!"

  Her students started yelling too. When Nico tried to shout, his mom pulled him away.

  The librarian was still silent. Her mind was still whirling.

  She had no idea what was happening.

  How could Stock fire her?

  What was he trying to do?

  She touched the podium again. The blue danced in the palm of her head. She hadn't known she could do this outside of the book-corridors too.

  "You can't do that!"

  "Everyone knows Southern Robotics doesn't own the Spire!"

  He turned towards them and sneered.

  "Shut up! Shut up or I'll find out who your parents are and fire them too!"

  He sniggered. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. His square-framed head reminded Alex of a monster peering out from a cave.

  "You don't want them to get fired. You really don't want them to get fired. It's a very literal process these days."

  Mrs. T stood up.

  Even at her full height, she was just under Stock's chest, but she walked forward without any fear at all. Her sudden approach frightened Stock into leaping backward. His brow glistened even more. For the first time since he entered the room, he stopped speaking.

  "What do you mean you can fire us? I don't work for Southern Robotics!"

  Stock's mouth worked furiously. He just gaped at Mrs. T until Anders and Munch intervened.

  "Show her the papers, sir."

  "Yes! Show her! Show her!"

  Stock giggled. He flung the papers right in the older woman's face.

  "Take a look at Clause 3."

  Mrs. T bent and retrieved the papers. Her eyes widened as she read aloud.

  "In exchange for their help resolving the quakes, the Waters Administration agrees to turn over management of the Library Spire over to Southern Robotics."

  Stock giggled.

  "It turns out you do work for Southern Robotics!"

  Stock swaggered over to the desk and took a cupcake. He grinned as he chomped off a huge piece.

  "Delicious. Delicious. Who made this? I'll be sure to keep you on as a cook!"

  After he read the placard, a cunning expression crossed on his face. He pointed at Alex and giggled.

  "You. Bossy girl. You're Every Blue? I can't believe it! I thought you were just a librarian!"

  His voice turned high and sarcastic.

  "Our Ace Returns. What kind of library has an ace? Ridiculous! Ridiculous!"

  He spoke faster and faster, his eyes growing more manic with each word.

  "Well then, how about this? I'm a bit of an ace pilot myself. More than a bit, actually. Some would say I'm the greatest ace pilot ever! And a gambling man. Yes. Very much a gambling man. We'll fight in the simulator, you and I. If I win, you'll kiss my feet, apologize for your slanderous statements, and agree to work for me."

  He stared hungrily at the podium.

  "Agree to work for me forever."

  The way he said that made her blood run cold.

  Stock snickered uncontrollably, his greedy eyes growing wider and wider beneath his square-framed forehead.

  "If you win – which you won't – I'll let you and your friends keep your shitty jobs here."

  He pointed at Mrs. T and Emile.

  "We have access to the Spire's servers now. I saw that shitty book they wrote! They should be out of here, pronto! But I'll give even them a chance. What do you say?"

  Alex didn't see how she had a choice. If she didn't fight, they'd lose the Spire.

  She nodded.

  Stock pointed imperiously at the man with the long straggly hair.

  "Make sure to film our battle. It's about time we started showing a new ad."

  "Yessir!"

  The wide-eyed man waved his hands dismissively.

  "Get out. Everyone but Every Blue. Get out."

  Her colleagues protested until Stock's face darkened.

  "I manage the library now. Get out before I call the Security Force."

  He smirked.

  "You'll be able to watch her defeat tomorrow. It'll be broadcast on the false sky."

  They hustled out after that, filling out in a long line. Her friends and students' smiles pushed back her fear bit by bit.

  "Bring the pods in. Start renovating during our fight. This shouldn't take long."

  Stock spoke at only a murmur. It was the first time he'd lowered his voice since stepping inside. But the workmen outside must have heard him.

  The door opened again.

  Two workers rushed in, pushing a pair of simulator pods. Others brought in a long series of boxes and tubes, practically clambering over each other in their haste to make it inside. The workers bumped into each other over and over again. The noise echoed along the hall, but Alex hardly noticed.

  The simulator pods were made of Eternium.

  "My bloodstained hands were drying. A slight vein ran through the stone, the familiar burnt red cutting through a black as dark as space. My eyes widened. Cautiously, then frantically, I began rolling the cool knob of metal around my hands. Before long, my hands were clean, and the lump of Eternium ran burnt red from edge to edge, the same color as our lying ruler's machines. I blinked. It was only then that I understood how thoroughly Eternium was stained with blood."

  Burnt red Eternium.

  CHAPTER 21: THE LONELY BOY

  Falo braced himself every time he picked up the cup, remembering how he had to force it down his throat that night in the Spire, but this time there was only the slight tang of salt and the smallest bit of sour sin.

  It must have been because their bond was growing stronger. That was how it once was, in the days when the Lost Lords weren't Lost. By the time they took the Throne of Lies, the Truthspeakers were often more god than human. The strongest of the Truthspeakers had been so powerful they called him Halfgod.

  Thel Halfgod had been the last of the Truthspeakers. He was the only Noble who fought against the rebels until the end. He'd been near Falo's age when he died. The boy king hoped he could be just as brave when his time came.

  The young boy scooped his head up from the table, grabbing himself by the hair like he always did. After a couple of weeks, he finally got fed up and cut it himself. He did a fine job paring it down at the sides and leaving just enough at the top for him to get a comfortable grip, but it didn't look as good as when Jon's mom did it.

  Falo stepped into his simulator pod, grimacing a little as he scrolled past the Paragons he'd designed for his friends.r />
  He knew he shouldn't, but he missed them so badly.

  He knew they'd still accept him after all he had to do.

  Every single one of the Contracted subjects supported Stock and Waters, the men who'd locked away The Wastes.

  "A boy pursues his greatest desire."

  Falo spoke the words a little wistfully, but the machine responded all the same. It wasn't like that in a real Paragon.

  The opponents materialized all around him. Falo trained in every different competition the simulator offered, so he'd be ready for whatever battles he needed to fight. This was a battle royale, where the last player standing won.

  There were fewer opponents than he thought there'd be. The description suggested there'd be over a hundred, but his match only featured just over thirty foes. With more and more people signing Contracts, there were fewer people available for games.

  He raised his shield and let out a triumphant cry as he immediately went on the attack.

  He bashed and struck. The music of his shield crushing Eternium filled his ears. He spun around and smashed in a cockpit. He pivoted gently to the side and hastily brought his shield up to catch another blow. He bashed upwards to knock a foe off-balance then sent them to the ground with a mighty kick.

  He was waiting when the enemy machine returned to its feet.

  The sharply honed edge of his shield smoothly decapitated the struggling Paragon.

  When he finally broke free from the scrum, Falo flew high into the sky, hoping to catch the cowards who were hiding behind cover. Dishonorable foes frequently waited until the strongest enemies were tired before striking out of nowhere.

  The boy king had nothing but disdain for them. He always hunted them down first.

  He found one then descended like a purple and gold comet. His opponent raised their gun and fired, but it was no use. Falo landed on top of him both feet first, stomping right on his machine before finishing the job with his shield. The rounded dome thunked loudly as he viciously slammed it clean through his enemy's chest.

  In the bottom left corner, he saw the game chat exploding with demands. A large part of winning a melee wasn't just skill. It was politics. Falo grinned when he saw how many people were insisting that everyone should attack him first. After all, he already had seven kills to his name.

  He saw it as an honor.

  It was the best the Ignorants could do.

  Falo did not need any such tricks.

  When he took the battlefield, he'd inspire his men with honest skill.

  "To me! To me!"

  Falo rose, rallying his imaginary soldiers around him. Even in the battle royale, the boy king liked to pretend he was leading vast armies into battle.

  It reminded him that one day he'd be a conqueror.

  The problem was, the battle cry also reminded him of his loneliness.

  As he sliced through another enemy unit, the boy king suddenly realized what he should do.

  He should practice with his friends.

  Even the greatest pilots needed trusted lieutenants.

  He should sneak them out of The Wastes.

  Considering how many Contracted subjects he had, it was almost time for the conquest to begin.

  Peter said they only needed to gather enough Eternium to forge Paragons.

  He'd initially planned on waiting until after his conquest, but with all the pieces in place, his success was virtually guaranteed.

  He should return to The Wastes and guide them away from the dark corridors. Then, they could fight by his side from the very beginning. Their names would be inscribed in history next to his, and that was they deserved. They'd been so loyal to him. They even tried following him out that first night. They weren't much use on the battlefield, but that wouldn't matter if their army were big enough.

  He wouldn't be bringing them out because he was some lonely boy who missed his friends. He was bringing them out because he needed fellow pilots. Because he needed loyal followers to fight by his side.

  He told himself that Peter would understand.

  An opponent tried to take advantage of his distraction, dashing forwards with an outstretched sword. Falo contemptuously avoided the blow then smashed the machine hard from behind as it flew past. His shield burst the cockpit apart, and he saw a simulated pilot fall out before splattering bloodily against the ground.

  Falo laughed joyfully as he returned to the fight.

  The shield was a purple blur in his hands as he attacked and attacked, eager to end the match as soon as possible.

  ____

  Falo glowered at the screen.

  A third-place finish was nowhere for a king to be. They'd ganged up on him, but that was no excuse.

  He had to get stronger.

  One day, he might really have to fight eight against one. As Peter said, he was surrounded by supporters of Stock and Waters. And even after Plenty, there were the twelve other colonies to think about.

  He left the Eternium pod and started walking to Peter's quarters.

  Falo knew Peter wouldn't be happy if he asked to leave.

  The boy king had hidden inside Peter's home since the night of the Spire. He knew that enemies were lurking everywhere. The Contracted subjects told him so.

  But his friends were worth the risk.

  And besides, with so many people under his thrall, there could only be fewer enemies on the outside.

  His feet guided him effortlessly towards the big man's quarters. A Truthspeaker was never lost.

  Peter was waiting for him when he knocked on the door.

  The big man went down on one knee.

  "My Lord! What brings you to me today?"

  "We need some allies before our conquest begins. The Contracted subjects are strong and powerful, but they need someone there to constantly give them demands. And the Contracted can't pilot. We need free soldiers we can trust!"

  Peter pulled his metal flask from his hip and took a deep draught before replacing it at his belt.

  Then, to Falo's surprise, the bearded man laughed.

  "I was just thinking the same thing! Come down to my hangar with me. I have something extraordinary to show you."

  It was just a short walk from Peter's apartments.

  When the big man opened the door, Falo gasped.

  The last time Falo saw the hangar, it'd been filled with Southern Robotics's false Paragons, the ones that weren't built from Eternium. But now, the fraudulent machines were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood block after block of shining Eternium.

  There was enough of the holy metal for at least twenty Paragons. He'd be able to arm his friends immediately.

  "Took me a while, but I made it happen!"

  Peter grinned.

  The big man's smile was always a comfort. He was always so pleased when he made Falo happy.

  Peter took another swig from the flask at his hip.

  Then he bowed and stepped aside.

  Falo stepped up to the first Eternium block. His thoughts were forged like steel. The power surged to his fingers.

  Peter had done everything for him.

  He'd given him a home.

  He'd given him subjects and a place to build his power.

  And now he'd given him a Paragon.

  Once he took his throne, Falo would reward him more than anyone had ever been rewarded.

  The Eternium twisted at his fingers. The familiar purple and gold streaked across the forever black, shining with divine light.

  Before long, a new machine stared down at him, one identical to the model in his pocket only a thousand times larger.

  Falo gaped at the size.

  The enormous kraken-emblazoned shield stared down at him from its place in front of the torso. Tentacles and glyphs danced endlessly across the beautiful armor.

  When he was done, he moved onto the next one and the one after that. Soon his friend's Paragons were standing around him as well, and there was still enough for many more machines. It was hard to cast col
ors other than his own, but Falo could do it. He was powerful.

  He turned to Peter and smiled.

  "What kind of design would you like?"

  The big man started. His eyes widened comically, and his mouth dropped down, dragging his long beard nearly to his bulging belly.

  "One for me? No! That's too much, my Lord."

  Falo shook his head stubbornly.

  "I insist."

  He turned and stared at the beautiful machines.

  "None of this would have been possible without you. Please, sir. It would be my honor."

  The big man's voice was carefully hesitant. Like any man on Plenty, he must have dreamed of piloting a Paragon for years. But Peter was always diligent and never presumptuous.

  "White with gold highlights."

  Falo carefully kept himself from frowning.

  White was a traitor's color, but Peter couldn't possibly know that. The Ignorants revered white - it was the color of Captain Ray's legendary machine. Zann had used white as well, and he'd died a coward.

  Falo shook his head.

  Who was he to tell Peter about colors? None of this would've been possible without him.

  "Do you have a design in mind? Perhaps something from the simulator?"

  The big man hesitated for a moment longer before handing over his tablet.

  Peter's machine was beautiful.

  The head was modeled after an ancient Old Earth warrior's helmet and topped by a heroic white plume. Proud blue eyes peered through a narrow slit.

  A pair of angel's wings graced the back. The gleaming white wings looked just like a bird's - there was almost no trace of their mechanical nature. The individual feathers must have been nearly impossible to code into the simulator. Falo always thought that his friend was a more practical man, but Paragons always inspired dreams.

  And Eternium was different. Falo could splay the holy metal apart with only a touch.

  "Would you be able to emulate it?"

  Falo smiled at the nervousness in Peter's voice. His friend had dreamed about this moment for a very long time.

  "Yes! Of course!"

  It was Peter who found the Eternium.

  For Peter, Falo was happy to make any adjustments.

  It was easy working with a model right in front of him.

  Peter's picture was incredibly detailed.