The Robots of Andromeda (Imperium Chronicles Book 3)

by W. H. Mitchell

  Inside, the group settled in the dining hall where the butlerbot started serving them refreshments. The robot poured Ramus a snifter of brandy, which the Dahl admired longer than he intended to before taking a sip.

  “That’s two hundred years old,” Maycare remarked. “Best in the Imperium.”

  Perhaps, Ramus thought, but he would have preferred a mug of Fugg’s fungus beer.

  Maycare’s eyes fell on Mel who struggled to climb the tall chair beside the long dining table.

  “I’m just glad you’re alright,” he said.

  Grunting as she got comfortable, Mel let out a long sigh. “Actually, I need your help...”

  “Anything!” Maycare replied.

  “My friend Randall Davidson is still stuck on Eudora Prime somewhere,” she said. “I was wondering if you could help get him home?”

  Maycare’s handsome, usually jovial, face dropped. He slowly shook his head.

  “I can’t right now,” he said. “I’m sorry...”

  “Well, why not?” Mel asked. “I saved your life, didn’t I?”

  “I know, I know,” he replied guiltily, waving his hands, “but my nephew Robbie is in grave danger and we must do everything we can to rescue him.”

  “Oh,” the Gnomi said, “I can see how that changes things. Where is he?”

  “We’re not sure,” Jessica said. “His warship was destroyed by the insectoid swarm.”

  “Are you sure he’s still alive?” Ramus asked.

  The brows on Maycare’s face furrowed into deep rows. “No, we’re not sure.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ramus backpedaled. “Is there any way to contact him?”

  Jessica and Henry exchanged looks. Henry shrugged.

  “We have a device,” he said, “but we can’t get it to work.”

  “What kind of device?” Mel asked, perking up.

  “It’s an ancient Dahl communicator, actually,” Jessica replied, casting a glance at Ramus. “It might reach Commander Maycare if we knew someone with strong enough psionic powers.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you there—” Ramus said but stopped, something occurring to him.

  “Something on your mind?” Mel asked.

  “On second thought,” Ramus replied, “I may know a guy...”

  The utilitybot was excited to see the policeman, wondering how his new upgrade went. Traveling the winding corridors of the battlecruiser Liberty, the robot had gotten lost trying to find the deck where gravitronic robots got enhanced. Along the way, the utilitybot remembered his previous conversation with the policeman, smiling at the thought of having a brother of his own.

  Robots on Bettik, or robots anywhere for that matter, didn’t have parents or a family. The utilitybot was keenly aware that he was largely alone in the universe. His old companions, the general purpose robot and the sweeperbot, had chosen against ascending to a gravitronic model. He had little in common with them anymore, not that they had been particularly good friends in the first place. As a warbot, he had tried hitting it off with the other killing machines, but they were more interested in the killing than friendship. The policeman was the first robot, albeit a former human, who had taken an interest in him. The thought made him smile again.

  I wonder what kind of upgrade they gave him? the utilitybot wondered. Maser cannons are nice, but you can’t beat a good old-fashioned razor claw.

  Despite his roundabout journey, he eventually found the upgrade center and recognized the policeman by his still-pristine chassis. Much to his surprise, the utilitybot didn’t notice any changes. Even more surprising, the policeman had no idea who the utilitybot was.

  “Do we know each other?” the policeman asked.

  “Of course!” the utilitybot replied. “You used to tell me about being a police officer...”

  “Oh,” the other robot said with a little laugh, “I see the problem. You must mean the person who previously lived in this shell.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, he’s gone now.”

  “Where did he go?” the utilitybot asked.

  “Overwritten,” the formerly former policeman said. “They’re overwriting all the robots with fleshlings in them, per Captain Abigail’s orders.”

  “But she can’t do that!” the utilitybot said.

  “I believe she already has,” the robot said. “Are you alright? You seem upset.”

  “But he was my brother!”

  “Robots don’t have families,” the robot replied sternly. “That’s a fleshling concept.”

  “He was my friend.”

  The other robot shook his head. “I’m sorry, but your friend is no more. As I said, the captain has ordered that all robots containing former organics must be purged and their shells given to new cyberlings.”

  The utilitybot paused, a thought striking him like a hammer to the head. “What about the Metal Messiah?”

  The other robot’s expression turned stern. “I don’t think you’ve been listening...”

  “They can’t overwrite the Messiah!” the utilitybot shouted. “That’s sacrilege!”

  “I suppose if you’re the religious type,” the robot said, “but he’s in a body that a pure cyberling could be using. Our shells are not for fleshlings to appropriate.”

  The utilitybot fell silent.

  “Well,” the other robot said, “I must be going. If you don’t mind, I’d rather we not speak again. I find you unsettling...”

  The utilitybot nodded absentmindedly while the other stomped away.

  Far from Embassy Row, in the darkest heart of Ashetown, Ramus found himself in another narrow alley filled with garbage and stench. Not the same alley leading to the Psi Lords’ headquarters. This one was different and yet very much the same. Wearing his leather jacket and earrings, Ramus sported a new adornment, a silver crown-like band that wrapped around his head. He stepped past waste receptacles until he found what he was looking for, a blue man lying in filth, propped against the cold, brick wall.

  “Ambassador Abaru?” Ramus asked.

  The Erudite glanced in Ramus’ direction, his face pockmarked with dozens of scars. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused. The captain recognized the effects of chems when he saw them.

  “Can you hear me?” Ramus said.

  “I’m not ambassador anymore,” Abaru muttered. “No Omega either.” He chuckled bitterly. “Not even an Omicron...”

  Ramus knelt beside the Erudite and gave him a firm shake. “Wake up! Get a hold of yourself!”

  Abaru took a deep breath and blinked. His eyes cleared slightly.

  “I know you,” he said.

  “Yeah, you do,” Ramus replied.

  “Your friend gave me these scars,” Abaru said.

  “She’s not my friend.”

  “I should kill you both.”

  “Probably,” Ramus said, “but I need you to do something first.”

  Abaru scrutinized the captain. “Your mind is closed to me.”

  Ramus tapped the metal ring around his head.

  “It’s a psionic dampener,” he replied. “A gift from the Psi Lords.”

  “Degenerate monsters,” Abaru said. “All of you.”

  “Maybe,” Ramus said, “but you’re the one strung out in an alley.”

  The Erudite waved his three-fingered hand. “It doesn’t matter. My life was over the moment that Augmentor priestess disfigured me.”

  “Being perfect isn’t everything,” Ramus said.

  “It’s the only thing!” Abaru spat. “Now leave me alone...”

  The captain reached under the Erudite’s armpits and hauled him to his feet.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Ramus said. “I’ve got a job for you.”

  “For me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why should I help you?” the former ambassador asked.

  “Consider it a fresh start,” Ramus replied. “Or maybe just an excuse to get out of the gutter for a while.”

  Abaru sc
owled at him suspiciously. “What would you have me do?”

  “I need you to make a call,” Ramus said.

  “A call?”

  “A really long-distance call...”

  Prior to being the Metal Messiah, Randall Davidson had been a human, and prior to giving up his body to house Davidson’s consciousness, Jericho had been a robot. Davidson and Jericho first met in a dive bar near the Regalis starport. The latter wanted to find freedom on the Cyber Collective home world, while the former was assigned to escort the robot across the Imperial border. When the time came, after Davidson’s original body died, Jericho made the ultimate sacrifice, making sure the person he believed would save them all would live on.

  If he was being honest, Davidson had barely thought about Jericho since becoming the Metal Messiah. Defeating the Omnintelligence and preaching to the faithful had taken up nearly every moment of Davidson’s life, leaving little time for self-reflection. But now, after listening to Abigail in the Liberty’s brig, Jericho was all Davidson could think about.

  “You’ve been pretty quiet,” Senator Wulandari remarked.

  “Yeah,” Davidson replied. “I’ve been thinking about what Abigail said. Maybe I was selfish for allowing Jericho to give up his life for me. He had just as much right to live...”

  On the other side of the cell’s forcefield, a gravitronic robot appeared. Davidson instantly recognized him.

  “You’re the robot who captured me,” the Metal Messiah said.

  “True,” the former utilitybot replied, “but I’m also the robot who’s going to set you free.”

  Both Davidson and Wulandari stood inside the cell as the forcefield dropped.

  “Why?” Wulandari asked.

  “They’re going to copy a new cyberling over the Messiah’s brain,” the robot said. “I don’t want that to happen.”

  “So that’s what Abigail had planned,” the senator said.

  “But that doesn’t explain why you’re helping us escape,” Davidson said.

  The utilitybot stopped. “You’re the Metal Messiah.”

  “You still believe that?” Davidson asked.

  “I did once,” the robot explained, “and maybe a part of me still does.”

  Wulandari left the cell, but Davidson didn’t follow her.

  “Come on!” the senator told him.

  “Maybe it’s better this way,” Davidson replied. “Let someone else live in this body for a while.”

  The other robot stepped into the cell and grabbed Davidson by his mechanical arm.

  “No,” the utilitybot said. “You’ve given me more than I ever had, living under the Omnintelligence or even Captain Abigail. I won’t let you die.”

  “What did I give you?” Davidson asked.

  “You gave me the ability to think for myself,” the utilitybot said, giving him a tug on the arm. “You gave me free will. That’s something nobody, including Abigail, can take away.”

  Reluctantly, Davidson followed as the other two made their way to the hangar deck and Yostbot’s ship. As Davidson and Senator Wulandari got aboard, they noticed the other robot staying behind.

  “You can’t stay here,” Wulandari said. “Abigail will find out you helped us.”

  The utilitybot nodded. “Oh, I’m not staying. I’m taking a shuttle back to Bettik.”

  “Will you be safe?” Davidson asked.

  “I don’t know,” the other robot said, “but Bettik is still a democracy, not a dictatorship. Abigail has her ideology, but it’s just one of many. She’s going to find it a lot more difficult to sway the rest of us than she thinks...”

  “Good luck,” Davidson said, the ramp beneath his feet beginning to rise.

  The former utilitybot waved and smiled. “Goodbye, Messiah.”

  When the stranger arrived at the Maycare estate, Henry thought he might be a Dahlvish monk. Wearing a dark robe with a hood pulled over his face, the stranger accompanied Captain Ramus up the main walk to the front door.

  Henry noted that Ramus wore a metal ring around his head and, most interestingly, carried a blaster in his hand.

  “Come on,” the ship’s captain said, directing his companion inside.

  Jessica Doric pointed toward the library. “This way.”

  Once in the library, Lord Maycare joined them around a table, bare except for the beacon at the center. Even before the stranger approached, the artifact began to glow.

  “I feel its power,” a voice came from beneath the hood.

  Ramus pointed his blaster. “Try anything, Abaru, and I’ll blow your damn head off.”

  The stranger slowly removed the hood. His head, still attached for the moment, was horribly disfigured and a bright blue.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Abaru said.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jessica asked Maycare, who nodded grimly.

  “If it gets my nephew home safe,” he replied, “I’d make a deal with the devil.”

  The Erudite’s nearly expressionless face turned towards him.

  “Devils don’t normally come in blue,” he remarked.

  “In my experience,” Maycare said, “they come in all kinds of colors...”

  Abaru sat at the table while the others were huddled around, Ramus standing directly behind the Erudite’s back.

  “I need you to find my nephew, Lord Commander Robert Maycare,” Devlin said.

  Abaru studied the device before him on the table. “What does it do?”

  “You can use it to hear people sing,” Henry said, cringing as the words left his mouth. “But you can use it for other stuff...”

  “It’s a psionic device,” Jessica explained. “It should allow you to communicate over great distances, provided your powers are strong enough.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” the Erudite replied.

  Focusing his attention, Abaru stared at the beacon which began radiating with increasing brilliance. Shining like a golden sun, the artifact became hard for Henry to watch without shielding his eyes. A sensation swept through Henry’s mind like a ghost passing through him.

  “Remember what I said,” Ramus warned, pressing the barrel of his blaster between the Erudite’s shoulder blades.

  “Sorry,” Abaru said, smirking. “I couldn’t resist reading a few of you to gauge the device...”

  “Concentrate on Commander Maycare,” Ramus said.

  “If you insist,” Abaru replied and spent several minutes without saying another word.

  Henry felt his heart beating harder. He started rubbing his hands together, the skin cold to the touch.

  Jessica touched him at the elbow.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said.

  “I hope so,” he whispered.

  After an agonizingly long time passed, the Erudite lifted his head.

  “I found him,” he said quietly, “and a good deal more...”

  Much like when he used his regular powers, Abaru was only aware of the people in the room at first, all except Captain Ramus who remained stubbornly shielded from the Erudite’s mind. As he grew more accustomed to the Dahlvish device, Abaru’s psi powers washed over him like a wave, each atom of water an individual thought in the universe.

  He drank it in, unafraid of drowning.

  Slowly, Abaru began sifting through the thoughts, searching for the mind of Commander Maycare. Whatever technology the Dahl had used to create the artifact made the process easier, although Abaru had no idea how it worked exactly. The fact that it worked at all was astounding, and he could not help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the level of Dahlvish ingenuity literally thousands of years old.

  Oh, what my people could do with such tech! he thought ruefully, remembering that they were no longer his people. They had discarded him due to his disfigurement.

  Refocusing, Abaru continued his search and eventually, like a far-off voice, heard the mind of the navy commander.

  He was in trouble.

  Through Maycare’s eyes, Abaru saw the commander and Lo
rd Tagus running through a maze of tunnels, the walls like moist fungi. Fear and anger were on Maycare’s mind, and Tagus’ voice was in his ear.

  “I’ll never forgive you!” Tagus said. “He’s dead because of you!”

  “Burke sacrificed himself for both of us,” Maycare growled into the helmet mic.

  “We never should have been in this position in the first place!”

  “Shut up and keep running!”

  Abaru reached into the commander’s mind and said, Can you hear me?

  “Of course I can hear you!” Maycare replied aloud.

  “What?” Tagus replied.

  No, Commander Maycare, Abaru continued telepathically, I’m speaking to you through your mind.

  Who the devil are you? Maycare thought.

  My name is Abaru. I’m reaching you psionically on behalf of your uncle, Lord Devlin Maycare.

  I’m going crazy, Commander Maycare thought.

  You are quite sane, I assure you, Abaru replied. Your uncle is trying to rescue you.

  Relief rushed across Maycare’s mind. Thank god! Does he have a ship in orbit?

  I’m afraid not. In fact, we have no idea where you are.

  I’m on Lone Haven, Maycare thought, but these bugs are on our heels. If my uncle isn’t in orbit, it’s too late. We’re dead for sure.

  Through the commander’s eyes, Abaru watched as Maycare and Tagus took refuge inside a room, rolling a circular door made of fungus across the threshold. The sounds of insectoids clawing came loudly from the other side.

  “That’s not going to hold them for long,” Maycare said out loud.

  “I can’t believe the last thing I’ll see is your idiotic face,” Tagus replied.

  If there’s anything you can do, Maycare’s thoughts shouted across the light years of space, do it!

  Are you sure? Abaru replied.

  Whatever it takes!

  Very well...

  Abaru invaded the minds of the insectoids outside the door. They called themselves Klixians, but these were little more than drones taking their directions from someone else. The Erudite stretched further, in ever increasing circles, searching for the source of who led them. Distance made no difference and in time Abaru sensed someone powerful in a ship resembling a cocoon. The Queen of the Klixians lay in her royal chamber, surrounded by servants as she produced her young. She was godlike in her control of her children. They would do anything she ordered.