Farima: An Afrofuturist Sci-Fi Adventure (The Homo Maximus Saga Book 1)

by Brian Lewis

  Turning, he opens the door and walks out of the cockpit. It’s situated on a secondary level accessible only by stairs on either side. He walks to the edge of the railing and looks down as a legion of over two hundred androids of various types come online. Large and small semi-autonomous drones buzz through the air and a dozen Aren 7’s stand in formation. Close quarter combat androids are ready to provide support. They are smaller than the Aren’s and most human-like.

  Taseti smiles as the excitement raging inside him grows hotter. Years of planning and of visions that he thought would forever remain in his head are now breathed into reality. The new visor provided to him by the NAS, along with everything else, allows Taseti to see the world in a new light.

  “No Nation Army!” Taseti screams with his hands raised high in the air like how the Plutarchs did it in the NAS when they came on TV. “What lies before you is your greatest challenge. I have waited fifty-two years for this day. Bring me Khalil Buhari and Natia Greenheart! Kill everyone else, including the creature! On my word, we fight!”

  The androids cheer and for Taseti, he can barely tell they’re not human.

  No Nation Army, it has a ring to it. In reality, he’s an army of one. Well, three if he counts the pilots. Taseti thinks of the last time he spoke with Acacia. He remembers how silent she became when he told her he’d be coming here alone without direct KWR support. Taseti understood the political posturing of their decision. He knows the NAS can’t be implicated because of the Treaty of Charlotte.

  More like ‘'The Great Surrendering’ as they say back home. If this operation fails, well no one had ever heard his name before. Even though the source of the attack will be obvious to anyone with a functioning brain. The KWR and New Manden hate each other. That’s all anyone knows.

  Acacia leaked one incredible piece of information through a backdoor channel, a new war mech codenamed Farima. The true secret Khalil wants to keep from the world. The Plutarchy cannot allow that thing to exist, not in the hands of these people. If what Acacia reported is true, Taseti will be welcomed into the arms of the Plutarchy when he returns it to the Capitol. If not, well, Taseti will show them it’s not just New Manden they have to worry about.

  Taseti watches as the ramp descends; he waits for it to touch down on the grass below before walking. His legion of androids, wrapped in their synthetic skin, march down behind their leader, their creator. Nothing brings him more pleasure than being out of the NAS, if for a brief moment. The random curfews and the mandatory viewing of the Grand Plutarch’s speeches. The revisionist history, the KWR patrols, it was beginning to be too much for Taseti. Despite these things, he enjoys the backdoor connection he has with the Plutarchy. A privilege that most citizens of the New American States don’t have.

  He isn’t the only one of his kind in the NAS, but the other people who look like him aren’t privileged enough to be a revered scientist. Taseti spends more time ignoring the world around him than thinking about it. He learned many years ago not to try to change things he couldn’t control. Trying to do so only led to war.

  Compliance is self-preservation. An axiom he’s learned in the NAS that was programmed into the A.I.’s training. Words Taseti lives by now.

  A steady stream of androids, armed with the best in KWR weaponry, follow Taseti like a boy follows his father. They walk, guns up, along a path through the thick patch of trees the armored aircraft landed behind. The clearing in front of the main gate is up ahead. Along with a line of Mandenite soldiers in cover behind a twenty-foot wall.

  Taseti steps out into the open, looking from left to right, surveying his surroundings. Even with the MX-87’s the C.O.M.M. terrorists had pointed directly at him, he stands unfazed.

  For too long, this exact scenario has played out in his head in one of many variations. A dream no more. The wall the C.O.M.M. soldiers stand atop stretches across the entire expanse of the island, so there’s no going around it, only through it.

  “Perfect.”

  Taseti wonders if this is what it must’ve felt like for the knights of old to stand alone as a charging army came in. Only he isn’t alone. The age of digital currency and artificial intelligence make it possible to mass-produce armies. A robotics engineer like himself is dangerous with the proper funding.

  He takes one step forward and looks up along the wall at the various colors and flavors of the C.O.M.M. soldiers. The assortments of reds, blues, blacks, silvers…all representing their respective isles and Nodes. Some wear hoods with and without their helmets. Most are men, but he recognizes a handful of female soldiers as well.

  Taseti smiles. They aren’t as numerous as he’d originally planned. It seems his sister did her job well. But he knows it isn’t over yet.

  He spits on the ground. “I have but one demand. Bring me Khalil Buhari and Natia Greenheart! Bring the data-file containing the schematics for Mandenite tech along with them. I will spare you! My legion of androids will only kill a quarter of you.”

  Silence.

  “Understand, I have more than enough firepower to obliterate this island. I alone could take every last one of you down.”

  A man steps forward at the center of the wall. He is tall and wears the attire of an officer, different from the rest. “I am Captain Jeska. You’re wearing a long-sleeved white cotton shirt and grey and red camouflage pants, KWR colors. I bet if you come a little closer I’d spot your white rose tattoo… or do they not give those to people who look like you and me still? I don’t know who you are, but your threats are weak.”

  The corner of Taseti’s mouth goes up slightly, amused. Pressing a button along the side of his shiny new visor, a self-moving nano-material creeps along the entire expanse of his body. It runs down his arms like slow-moving liquid and stretches down his legs, encasing him in a muscular exoskeleton. A new layer of synthetic biceps, triceps, pectoral and abdomen muscles transforms his entire being. The black liquid has the viscosity of glue and the warmth of sand on a hot summer day. It creeps slowly up the side of his face and covers everything except his visor. It’s composed of self-replicating nano-machines that communicate with each other to continue expanding. They are designed to do this until the entirety of Taseti’s power suit is complete.

  Taseti looks down at his hands. They’re now stronger and covered in the liquid, which is now hardening. The substance molds itself around his form and hugs his shape. Extending his arm with an open palm towards the sky, Taseti waits as he watches the soldiers on the wall go on alert. As if out of nowhere, the nano-machines begin replicating themselves into a large ball above Taseti’s wrist. At the apex of this round lump, they begin to extend out again, creating a second layer above his hand. The tiny machines don’t stop at his fingertips and extend out nearly forty-five inches. The shape of a broadsword begins to become apparent as the nano-machines mold out a handle with two winged sides.

  Taseti grabs the hilt of the sword that had grown out of his suit with his opposite hand. Yanking at its base, he’s able to dislodge it from the ball mount on his opposing forearm. He holds it high into the air as the thirty-five-inch nano-blade takes shape. The nanobots, naked to the human eye, activate their electrical charges. The entire length of the blade sparkles and cracks with electrical energy.

  “You were saying, Captain Jeska?” Taseti taunts.

  “Impressive. But a power suit will not force us into compliance. That may work where you’re from, but this is New Manden! You brought a sword to a laser fight.”

  “No Captain, I brought a sword, and leverage.” He smiles beneath the suit, which now covers his face. “Bring him forward,” Taseti speaks into his headset.

  From the tree line, two figures emerge. One unbound carrying a weapon pointed at the head of a bounded captive who walks ahead with his head down. They stop next to Taseti, who pushes the bound man to the ground. His eyes are covered, but his breaths are panicked, and he shakes in fear.

  Taseti raises his blade and places it just above the hairs on the back
of the captive’s neck. Far enough away that the electrical energy won’t burn, but just above the raised hairs to let him know he’s on death’s doorsteps.

  “You bring them out along with the data-file or I killed Dr. Greenheart’s husband. You can’t imagine the labor I went through building an android in her image to dupe him.”

  Taseti, with his visor, zoomed in on the face of the Captain to study his reaction. His mouth is agape, and his eyes shake in disbelief. He begins speaking to a nearby soldier who turns and runs off in a hurry.

  That’s my Captain. Taseti awaits the man he has wanted to kill for fifty-two years.

  Chapter 18

  The Truth

  Node One—Manay City, 2082—Isle of Khalil—Shield Room

  Natia guides Araba, Subject Alpha, and Khalil into the Shield Room. She strategizes that it’s a good idea to use the aerial feed to their advantage. Now her head is swimming in a bucket of chaos; her logic paralyzed by what she observes on-screen.

  “Adan.”

  Natia utters the name of her husband as Araba comes up beside her, holding Subject Alpha’s hand. Her muscles are weak for the first time as she realizes how long it’s been since she’s held in Adan’s arms.

  Looking back at Khalil, who stands emotionless with his dark eyes glaring at the image of Taseti, armored in a sleek, black exoskeleton. “Someone from your past I presume?”

  He remains silent. His eyes stay locked onto the image of Taseti.

  “His name is Taseti,” Araba announces. “Khalil told the boy about him while you were tracking down Acacia. He co-founded Tyrasa Technologies with Khalil back before the war. Before the treaty.”

  “Until.”

  “Until he turned on him. He abandoned him and got his family killed, I assume.” Araba scolds Khalil. “Now it appears he’s working with the KWR.”

  Natia opens up her Orunmila and pulls up Minister, a decentralized application about history. The augmented images illuminate the suppressed expression of agony on her face. She stops at the image of a man with brown eyes, brown skin, and an infectious smile. He looked happy then. In the image, he stands next to a shorter, obviously younger Khalil, both wearing white lab coats.

  The image is dated March 5, 2025.

  Natia looks back up at the video feed of the man holding a sword to her husbands neck. His black exoskeleton looks familiar, she’s seen it before. A long time ago.

  “It cannot be.” Natia drops to her knees and begins panting.

  “Nat what’s wrong!” Arabs cries out.

  “It’s him. The man who killed my father.” She clutches her chest and takes a deep breath.

  “Are you sure?” Araba looks up at the video feed. “I’m sure black exoskeletons are pretty common.”

  “It’s him. I can feel it. He even has the sword I remember.” Natia stands to her feet.

  Walking up to Khalil, she glares down on him. “I see you left him out of all of your rosy reenactments of the war. What the hell have you done?”

  Khalil looks up and begins chuckling. He shrugs his shoulders. “Yes, I guess you can say he has a slight grievance. I had a feeling he might’ve been the one sending those androids to the ECIC on the Isle of Manden. One of the reasons why I wanted to come here.”

  “Is he the one the Comms were chasing back then? Is he the killer of my father?”

  Khalil looks into her eyes, “yes.”

  Natia is at a loss of words.

  “What would telling you that have done? He rarely leaves the NAS and goes off the grid for years at a time. He only pops his head up to murder Mandenites. It’s likely he targeted your family because your mother was the daughter of two Founders. But so you know, it’s people like him that cause me to think the way I do.”

  “She wasn’t just the daughter of Founders Khalil, my mother and father were close to you! It’s you he hates and apparently is out to kill anyone connected to you. Which includes me.”

  Khalil nods, “that’s the most logical explanation, yes.”

  “Well, now he’s here and wants me and you to go out there!” Natia barks as her eyes widen. “He has a sword to my husband’s neck!”

  “Don’t fret, Natia. I anticipated this.”

  “I don’t think you understand.” Natia heaves the MX-Alpha upward with the nozzle to the ceiling. Her finger taps the button on the side above the trigger. “This is now armed. You and I are going outside to save my husband and save lives of the soldiers out there before we’re all gunned down. You’re no longer making decisions here.”

  “Natia.”

  “I’m not your daughter, Khalil. You took me in when my parents died because you’ve known my family since the war. You fought side-by-side with my grandparents. But know this, your social currency with me has been depleted. You raised me to achieve great things no matter the consequences as long as it was for the betterment of New Manden. But I see now that that was always a lie. You don’t care about The Collective. You’re an old man stuck in his old ways looking for another war because you can’t get over something that happened over fifty damn years ago. Well, now you’ve got your little war.” She raises the weapon. “Walk. Now. To the frontlines you go.”

  As he turns, the two of them begin walking towards the door. Natia turns to look at Araba, “lock the door behind us.” She notices Subject Alpha’s face is pointed towards the floor. “I’m so sorry you’ve been exposed to this. It was not supposed to be this way. I promise you I will protect you. You’re like a son to me.”

  His head rises to reveal a beaming smile across his face. “Ok.” He snuggles Araba’s leg tight.

  Natia notices something peculiar about Subject Alpha. His eyes, there’s something unnerving about his eyes. As if his smile and his eyes carry separate emotions. Before she can ponder more on it, her Orunmila chirps, alerting her to the completion of the hack.

  “Time to let Captain Jeska know!”

  Just as Natia is about to connect with him via their Orunmila’s, she receives an incoming message to connect with the Captain instead. His face appears.

  “Natia, me and the Commander have tried to hold him off as long as we could. He’s demanding you and Khalil bring out the data-file from the compound.”

  “You’ve done a great job, Captain. The data-file is secure, but I have better news, the hack is complete. If your communications are still down, use this private channel. We’re going to need an EVAC team for the injured in the Medibay and let every C.O.M.M. command Jena in the area know we need immediate help. Khalil has us deep in the Atlantic, so I’m not sure how many will answer the call.” She begins sharing the data about the private channel with Jeska.

  He rocks his head up and down with a smile on his face.

  “One last thing, does he know his sister is dead?”

  “Acacia was his sister?”

  “Yes. I recently found out myself.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned her.”

  “Good. We’re coming out, Captain. Let him know.”

  The connection ends. Natia pushes Khalil towards the door. He punches the button to open it with a closed fist. As they begin to walk out into the corridor, she sees Captain Jeska’s ID uploading into the private channel. He begins sending out messages to anyone and everyone within New Manden. It will still be awhile before they receive help, there’s no way around it. Natia knows she needs to buy time and stall as long as possible until help arrives.

  The only other option is to fight to the death. New Manden doesn’t birth cowards, and Natia’s mind and body remain prepared for whatever comes their way.

  Natia looks back at Araba and Subject Alpha alone in the Shield Room. “Lock the door behind us. I’m going to send you a message on your Orunmila Araba, we can communicate on this private network. Remember, nothing sensitive because we don’t know exactly how secure it is, but it’s the best we’ve got at the moment. Help is coming. When they arrive… I’ll let you know where to meet them. Then you have the aerial feed as well.”
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  “Stay safe, Nat.” Araba wipes a tear from her eye.

  Subject Alpha now sits crouched on the floor with his head between his knees, rocking back and forth.

  “We will survive.” Natia forces a smile and presses the button to close the door. She hears the locking mechanism a moment later.

  “You’re giving them hope. That’s nice.” Khalil utters. “The reality is they will probably die.”

  Natia pushes him forward. “Walk.”

  “That private channel, you don’t know what it is do you? I imagine you hacked it with your Orunmila and are using a backdoor to call for help.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “It’s my channel, Natia. Obviously, it’s my island.”

  “Used for what?”

  “You don’t always want people snooping in on your private matters. There’s a whole group of soldiers here who monitor my public network for threats against me. It also means they can read my personal communications. I needed something more secure than that.”

  They stopped in front of the door that led outside. “So who did you communicate with?”

  “That’s none of your business, Natia.”

  She glares with a cold indifference into his eyes, and he maintains eye contact without flinching. They stand there staring at each other for what feels like minutes to Natia.

  “He said something about the data-file, the one Acacia stole.” His eyes thin. “Where is it, Natia?”

  “It’s safe and secure.” She pushes the door open. “Walk. Just keep him talking as long as possible.”

  “Natia, you’re assuming he wants to talk. That’s where you’re making your mistake. The man is wearing a combat exoskeleton and came here with a small army of androids.”

  “Well, dare I ask… do you have a better idea?”

  “Remember I told you about the Turtle mechs, about the Farima? All of that stuff is operational.”