The Live Soldier Trilogy Box Set

by Liam Clay

  “The Designer's mind digitization device? Why would they want that?” She pauses. “Wait, I see what's happening here. You're working for them, aren't you? So that the Architect will heal Delez for you.”

  A cold feeling settles in my stomach, and creeps out through my limbs. If I can't convince her of the truth, this is all over.

  “Kalana, nullification is permanent - we've already made our peace with that. This is about something else. Something much bigger than all of us. Have you seen that yellow corona in the sky?”

  “Anex, I can't hold the guns back for much longer. So I'm begging you: please fly in and land on the island. Then we can talk about this later, when it's safe.”

  “It's never going to be safe!” I say desperately. “That corona is an artificial black hole, and it's on a collision course with earth. I know it sounds crazy, but you've got to believe me!”

  “I'm sorry Anex, but we're out of time.” She says softly. “Goodbye.”

  The feed goes dead. I stare into space for a moment, uncomprehending. Then I start to smash my human fist against the wall, over and over until my knuckles are red and torn.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck! We were so close.”

  “Calm down Anex, please!” Tikal says, sounding afraid for the first time I can remember. “Let's do what she says and try again later.”

  “It won't work. Kalana thinks I'm compromised. She's probably ordering her troops to destroy the Mindrack right now, just because I told her the Architect wants it.”

  “You can't be sure of that.”

  We break off as the engine stutters. The rotors slow down, and we drop a few meters before they catch up again.

  “I have a suggestion.” Calendo says before we can start arguing again. “Why don't we go ask the Architect to delay her attack? If we can get her to do that, Kalana might be more willing to listen to us.”

  Tikal shakes her head. “Delez was hoping we could convince Kalana to stand down. But Anex just tried that and it didn’t work, so conquering the island is the only option the Null have left.”

  If we were in an Opacian war movie, this would be the moment for a last-ditch, hail mary gambit. But I’m not thinking clearly anymore, and no brilliant solutions are forthcoming. And maybe that’s because we have exhausted all possible avenues. But with so much on the line, we have to keep chasing every shadow of a chance until the endgame has come and gone.

  “I think we need to try.” I say wearily.

  Tikal squeezes her eyes shut, and then sighs. “So we'll just fly over to the Dragon's bridge and knock, shall we?”

  “Just get us onto its back.” I tell her. “I will take care of the rest.”

  Tikal looks too tired to argue. She's had no rest since we left Ninetown. And after flying, fighting, watching her friends die, and learning that the apocalypse is at hand, she doesn't have much left to give. None of us do. Sighting in on the approaching Dragon, she pushes the joystick forward one last time.

  CHAPTER 32

  Halfway to our target, we come in range of the dragonflies. Bullets flay the chopper's flanks. Rockets zip past us, their targeting systems too slow to compensate for our angled flight vector. The Dragon fills the view ahead. Aside from its bridge, which replaces the dragonflies’ sensor arrays, its only major differentiator is size. Tikal's jaw is clenched, knuckles white around the joystick, staring down the massive vessel as though daring it to a game of chicken. Through the bridge's wraparound viewport, I see a T-shaped platform raised above rows of holo-couches. A lone figure graces the platform, hands clasped behind her back. The Architect.

  For a sickening moment, I think that Tikal is going to turn kamikaze and take us all down to a watery grave. But at the last second, she changes course. We wheel up and over the bridge. Our landing skids score the Dragon's armored hull, and then our nose smashes into a satellite dish. The antenna pierces the chopper's windscreen, passing between me and Tikal and narrowly missing Calendo in the back. But our impalement is the only thing keeping us on the Dragon’s back. The mercenary slides our side door open, but the wind almost rips her out into space.

  “Wait!” I shout over the gale. Moving into the back, I flip up a trapdoor in the floor. Wind tears through the space between the chopper's belly and the Dragon's skin. I drop into the gap. Then I raise my composite fist, and bring it crashing down onto the steel. The hull buckles under the blow - but only slightly. Summoning all the rage and anguish boiling within me, I hammer that same spot again and again. Servos grind inside my forearm. Knuckle joints flexing, steel tendons stretched past their breaking point. But I don't stop.

  By the time I break the Dragon's skin, my bionic arm is a contorted wreck. It survives long enough to peel back the fissure's edges, and then goes inert. I look up. Tikal is watching me, one hand half raised to stop my tirade.

  “Your arm...”

  “It's just a piece of tech. Losing it means nothing to me.”

  The truth is more complex than this. But Calendo takes me at my word, climbing down through the fissure without comment. Tikal shakes herself and does the same. I follow them into a dimly lit crawlway walled with fiber-optic cabling. The raging wind fades to a muted roar. The air smells dry and burnt, like the desert outside Worldpool. Detaching my prosthetic, I let it fall to the ground. Tikal raises a finger to her lips - only to let it drop a moment later.

  “We want them to find us, don't we?”

  I nod, and we set out along the crawlway, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. I try to marshal my thoughts as we go. But by the time we reach a larger corridor, I still have no idea what I'm going to say to the Architect. Hopefully something will come to me in the moment.

  The Dragon's interior is stark and bare. Ice-blue strip lights provide a bare-bones illumination. Tikal has developed a noticeable limp, and Calendo is carrying on a tense conversation with herself. We move forward through the ship, encountering no one along the way. There is no way to tell if the Dragon has opened fire, or if it's still moving, even.

  The corridor brings us to a circular portal of smooth graphite. Like everything the Null build, it has no logo, no decoration, no personality. We stop. So much time has been spent running from the Architect. And now we're about to walk openly into her presence.

  “Ready?” Tikal asks.

  Not trusting myself to speak, I rap bloody knuckles against the graphite. We wait for the space of a few heartbeats, and then the portal slides down into the floor. The bridge opens out before us. The T-shaped platform runs forward to the curved viewport before spreading arms to either side. The Architect stands at the juncture. She is facing away from us, watching the curtain wall; but I can tell that she is aware of our presence. Peace and Delez stand off to her left. He is carrying the black box over one shoulder. She is watching us warily.

  With Tikal leading, we step out onto the platform. Null soldiers lie cradled within their holo-couches to either side of us. Their senses are out in the night, inhabiting the dragonflies amassed along the coast. For an instant, I consider rushing the Architect. Then I notice the motion sensing guns hanging from the ceiling. Every one of them is trained on us. As ever, our old adversary is in full control.

  We stop ten paces from her. And now, finally, she turns. The white hair, the pale skin, the surgical scar: all are as I remember them. But knowing the truth about this woman changes everything.

  “My colleague told you about the impending cataclysm.” She states, indicating Delez. “He took a risk in doing so. Has it paid off?”

  In the absence of an angle or gameplan, I decide to go with the truth.

  “No, it hasn't. I tried to warn Kalana about the black hole, but she wouldn't listen to me.”

  “And did you mention the Mindrack to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she may already be moving to destroy it.”

  “Or she may have decided to protect it, just in case I'm right.”

  “That is also a possibility. Faced with the end of the world, there i
s no way of predicting how normal humans will react. And that is why I created the Null. Only we are capable of doing what needs to be done, no matter how difficult.”

  And although there are larger matters at hand, something makes me ask, “Who were you? Before you did this to yourself, I mean.”

  “I am a descendant of the race that built the 9th Pyramid. When it was destroyed, groups of survivors spread across the globe. My people became astronomers, content to study the stars from our mountaintop observatories. That is how we discovered the black hole. But we lacked the technology to build an escape ship, so I gave up my humanity and began to take what was needed by force. You are now witnessing the culmination of those efforts.”

  “But you've hit a wall, haven't you? Kalana is dug in deep. Even as far back as Medival, you weren't sure you could defeat her. So you tried to get us to convince the Hivers to give up the Mindrack. But then I dropped off the map, and you had to fall back on a direct attack.”

  “All of this is true.” The Architect confirms. “And you are to be commended for deducing it. But as you just pointed out, a direct attack is the only option I have left. So if you will excuse me, it is time for war. The last one in earth's history, I would imagine.”

  I can feel my chance slipping away. How do you negotiate with someone who lacks emotions? Then something clicks. An idea - or the seed of one, at least.

  “There might still be another way.”

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  “Surrender to Kalana right now. Unconditionally. If you do that, she might reconsider my warning.”

  “The probability of that working is low.”

  “Lower than your chances of winning this fight before Kalana can destroy the Mindrack?”

  The Architect opens her mouth... and hesitates.

  “I don't know.”

  Sensing a crack, I try to widen it.

  “Okay, let's park that for a second. If you do win, how are you going to convince humanity to let you digitize them?”

  “I doubt that will be possible. But I have a fallback. Once the Mindrack is in my possession, I will upload the entire Worldpool network onto it. Over eight hundred thousand minds will be stored safely for travel, awaiting departure.”

  “And what about everyone else? You're just going to leave them here to die?”

  “That is unavoidable. Nothing I say could make them see reason.”

  “Yes, but what if the Live Soldier says it? Did Delez get a chance to tell you why he came clean about the black hole? My connection to Kalana was part of it, yes. But he also believed that I could convince my followers of the danger. All 60 million of them.”

  The Architect looks to Delez.

  “That is true.” He says solemnly. “If you do as Anex says, we could save countless lives. I think it is worth the risk.”

  I've never seen the Architect look lost... until now. Like Peppin with his aborted revenge, she is having a long-held plan flipped on its head at the last moment. Now we just have to hope that her logical scales tip in our favor. While she's thinking, Tikal adds more weight to our side.

  “I think you need to give Kalana this chance. She should have launched her attack on you already. But the whole time we've been talking, she has held off. Those aren't the actions of someone whose mind is made up.”

  And now Peace adds her piece. “Yeah, give Kalana a chance! She could still come around. Just look at the four of us. We’re all normal humans, and we believe the world is ending.” She shoots a dark look in our direction. “Some of us just took longer to accept it than others.”

  “And we’re really sorry about that.” I say.

  “It's okay. The apocalypse is a pretty tough pill to swallow. Has Francis gotten onboard too, or is he off sulking somewhere?”

  “Oh. Francis is... he’s dead, Peace. And so is Lucy.”

  She crumples to the floor. Tikal and I start toward her. But the Architect raises a hand, and we come to an uncertain halt.

  “My colleague will attend to your friend.” She tells us. “They were once man and wife, after all.”

  “Why can't we help too?” Tikal asks.

  “Because I need your full attention. You see, I have decided to accept your proposal.”

  “What proposal?” I ask, still focused on Peace.

  “I am going to surrender to Kalana. On one condition.”

  Now she has my undivided attention. “Name it.”

  “I want your promise that you will have a new retcom implanted, so that you can reclaim your feed and warn the world.”

  “I already told you I would. Hell, it was practically my idea!”

  “Yes, but there is something you may not be aware of. The nerves in your damaged eye socket have been burned away. So your new retcom will have to replace your remaining eye.”

  At another time, in a different place, this news would have hit me hard. But not now.

  “In a few weeks, we will all be saying goodbye to our bodies. So I'll save my grief for that, I think. Plus, you surgically removed your own emotions, and that is far worse than losing a body part could ever be.”

  “So I have your word?”

  “You do.”

  The Architect nods, and removes a handheld from her pocket. Holding it to her mouth, she says:

  “Attention all pilots. New information has come to light. As a result, we will no longer be attacking the Hive. Disconnect from your dragonflies and prepare to be reinstated in your bodies.”

  Then she turns back to us. And although it is certainly my imagination, it almost looks as though a smile tugs at her lips.

  “You may want to look outside.”

  I do so. And witness incontrovertible proof of the Null surrender. All around us, dragonflies are dropping like - well - flies. They are tumbling toward the sea in their hundreds, like falling stars through the vacuum of space. I've never seen anything like it, and probably never will again - on this sphere or the next. Once the last plane has sunk beneath the waves, the Architect raises her handheld once more.

  “This is a message for Kalana. As you can see, I am surrendering to you without condition. I request only that you refrain from destroying the Mindrack for the time being. I will retire to the Gulf Islands with this single ship, in the hope that you will agree to a parlay. That is all.”

  There is a long pause, and then the handheld crackles.

  “There is no need to travel to the Gulf Islands.” Kalana says. “My ships will escort you to Kingston. Once there, you will stand trial for your actions.”

  “I will come voluntarily.” the Architect replies. “As long as I am given the chance to speak in my defense.”

  “You will be.”

  The handheld goes silent. In the trenches below us, Null pilots are emerging from their holo-couches. Usually, the sight of so many scarred heads would be exceptionally creepy, but right now I couldn't care less. Tikal, meanwhile, looks stupefied by what has just occurred.

  “You dropped your entire army into the ocean! We could have used those planes!”

  “For what?” The Architect replies calmly.

  “I don't know! They could have flown around telling people about the black hole or something.”

  “I don't think people would have reacted well to that. And besides, total submission was required to persuade Kalana of my sincerity.”

  Tikal mutters something to herself, but makes no further comment.

  “Does this mean we won?” Calendo asks me hopefully.

  “It means we didn't lose. Which is pretty close to winning, all things considered.”

  But I'm only giving the mercenary half my attention, because Peace is sitting up. Hurrying past the Architect - who is busy preparing the Dragon for departure - I kneel down beside the little sniper. She looks up at me. Her face is a battleground of conflicting emotions.

  “Lucy and Francis. Are they really...”

  I place my hand on her knee. “I'm sorry Peace.”

  Dropping her he
ad, she bites down on her lip until blood flows.

  “If I hadn't done what I did, they would still be -”

  “Dead. But a few weeks from now instead of today, along with the rest of humanity. Peace, you may have single-handedly saved our species from extinction.”

  “Fuck the species! I just want our friends back.” She looks at Delez. “And my husband. I want him back too.”

  He looks back at her without expression. But his response is unexpected.

  “If I could give him back to you, I would. Living without emotion isn't really living at all. The Null are a means to an end, nothing more.”

  We break off as Tikal limps over to join us. Sinking down between me and Peace, she throws her arms over our shoulders. And together, we sit on that cold lonely platform, thinking about all that we've lost, and all that we're about to.

  CHAPTER 33

  “I still can't believe you had a robot arm and I never got to see it.”

  “Sorry Sophie. What about this vulture brand on my cheek, though. It’s kind of cool, right?”

  “Not really.”

  My daughter and I are sitting on top of the hexagonal wall that surrounds Kingston. The city has changed drastically since my last visit. The New Jamaicans are still here, as are their houses and the rasta flags that hang from the older buildings. The Designer’s occupation has left its mark as well. The wall we're sitting on is made of green crystal, and there are many more structures built of the same substance. But both architectural styles are nearly lost beneath Kalana's additions.

  All are military. Not ten paces from us, a missile launcher rears up from the walltop. Identical placements circle the ramparts. The city itself has been altered as well. Bright orange bomb shelters have been erected every few blocks, and autonomous sentries guard all major intersections. Those sentries are inactive now that the Null threat has been dealt with. But the residents themselves are still on edge, because everyone knows that the Architect is in residence.

  “Hey, quit going all distant like that!” Sophie scolds me. “You've been gone long enough as it is.”