Dark Iron King II: Arcadia Falls (Unreal Universe Book 5)

by Lee Bond

  Because? Candall whispered again, suddenly worried about the uncharacteristic silence pervading the usually noisier than hell cockpit. Even when she was wrapped up in the sad story of his life, speakers and monitors and everything surrounding the nearly catatonic Latelian had been full of sound and images. Because?

  Deep in the back of his mind, the droning song of death grew louder. Candall did everything he could –which wasn’t much, given his completely weakened state- to will the stupid AI to answer him. There wasn’t much time left, and if Miss Bliss decided that she didn’t want hold up her end of the bargain …

  Candall didn’t know what he’d do then, but he’d figure something out, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Miss Bliss’ voice filled the cockpit, a tiny five year old sounding very cross with herself. “It doesn’t make any sense, Sa Candall.” Bliss harrumphed, one of her favorite noises. “There is music coming out of you.”

  “No.” The word erupted from his ravaged throat. A hot surge of blood sprayed from cracked, dried lips, coating his chest and spackling the screens nearest him. No.

  There was no way. It wasn’t true. It wouldn’t be true.

  “It is very quiet.” Bliss insisted, tsking out of a speaker over the sight of all that blood. She dispatched tiny little robots that popped up out of their little rooms all over the cockpit and began cleaning up. Ordinarily she’d make Candall do it –as she did Chad- but the poor man was in no condition to do anything. She didn’t know much about regular people bodies, but there were basic medical files in her systems from before, from when she’d been with someone else.

  Those files, incomplete and corrupted and making no sense to an AI who’d spent a considerable amount of time in the service of a cybernetic assassin so profoundly altered by the enhancements and augmentations that he really wasn’t even human any longer, said quite clearly that Sa Candall should’ve been dead a long time ago, no matter the help she’d given.

  No. Candall shook his head fiercely, the tubes in his neck and down his chest pulling at their fasteners. Flesh and bone and muscle burned in protest. The music was only in his mind. It was just that. A dying man’s fantasy of eagerly greeted death. Nothing more.

  It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  If it was real, then it meant that … No.

  “It is the music I have been humming for some time now. I made words to go with it, but the song is yours.” Bliss admitted cautiously. No matter how good she thought she’d been in dealing with Candall, the AI knew things could’ve been done better all the same; her only companion for as long as she could properly remember had been Chadsik. And, of course, the other mad minds trapped in their shiny silver orbs. When you were around people like that all the time, proper conversational skills went right out the window, especially when you are doing a lot of shouting and threatening.

  To prove her point, Miss Bliss transformed the audio files of her humming into a proper musical score and played the refrain through enough speakers so Sa Candall could hear everything properly.

  Something odd happened.

  From the moment the first beat played loudly into the command center, Candall’s vital signs surged.

  The joyous riot of song lurch into his mind and mingled with the death knell that’d been rolling over and over through him, felt the curious silvery notes shiver somewhere deep inside places mortal man could never feel, should never feel, and he bellowed. Using the smidgeon of fresh energy given to him by the horrific song playing his soul like a stringed instrument, Candall reached up with one ravaged hand and swept some of the tubes out of his chest.

  The agony was instant, white hot, brilliant pain flaring through him like a supernova. He … he leaned into the pain, grabbed hold of it even as it snatched the song away, held it close. Candall whispered, his old voice full of promise.

  There isn’t much time left now, Miss Bliss. Candall’s jaw moved, but no sounds came out. The life-sustaining tubes he’d ripped from his chest so violently had torn things loose everywhere. Blood and other stuff was pooling inside him.

  Not much time now left at all, and if you would honor your promise to me, we had best be moving along.

  “I don’t understand.” Miss Bliss wailed, her youthful voice full of confused sadness. “That song made you better! I … I … I could feel other people on the other side of the song, Sa Candall, I could feel them looking this way. Some were confused. Some were happy. But … it … this … doesn’t make any sense. Chad would’ve killed a planet full of babies to hear that song, to make his mind better! There is something missing inside him! He told me so! He lost millions and millions of his bestest friends somewhere, and … and there are all those friends out there, looking for you now! Why won’t you go to them?”

  Candall raised a cadaverous hand and pointed at the monitors. We are ten thousand miles out from the moon’s surface, Miss Bliss. I will tell you what you want to know, but only if we move, only if I get to fulfill my … my quest.

  An exasperated noise filled the command center, but the ship started moving all the same. “You don’t make any sense, Sa Candall. The man you loved is gone, but before you made the song go away, I am sure I heard people who you could love. Blow these bad men up with the Hands of Glory. It will be lots of fun. Their metal bones and cybernetic implants will burn through the Universe, bright as stars. But then let me take you home to these new friends.”

  Don’t want to die? Candall tried to click his tongue in dismay. Want to break your promise after all?

  “All things come to an end.” Bliss responded quickly, quoting Chad. “And I am just a machine. I don’t think Chadsik is coming back, so it doesn’t matter. Even if I did go back, Sa Candall, where would I go, what would I do? Something funny is happening to me too. I’ve moved into the empty spheres, and I am growing bigger. Trinity won’t like that, Sa Candall. It will hunt me down. It kills things like me, and besides. I promised. We are moving quickly, Sa Candall, we will be within striking range very soon. Explain why you don’t want these people in your life.”

  Candall wasn’t surprised that a mind as –relatively- simple as Miss Bliss had missed the subtle subtext. Or maybe he was even worse of a storyteller than he’d surmised. On-screen, the gallivanting cyborgs loomed a little closer. Before he spoke, the reclamation specialists noticed that they’d begun construction on a proper habitat for themselves.

  He tried to smile at the irony of that, but couldn’t. He’d lost all sensation. The only thing, Candall feared, that was working any longer was his head. Still worth it, though, to rid himself of that damned song.

  That song, Miss Bliss, Candall ‘spoke’ as quickly as he could, is what drove my Shane mad. He imagined he could hear it. He was delusional, at the end. Witnessing the full might and power of a God soldier completely embracing Harmony is, according to him, to see a true miracle. As a Latelian, I never had any exposure to faith, or belief, or any fucking thing like that, but Shane … ahhh, my love was one of the faithful. Some deity or other, and for him, watching that Goddie did something to his mind. He, like too many of my own people, started acting as though they could hear Harmony. But they couldn’t. No mortal can. The only ones who can are the Goddies and their masters, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

  “But you can hear it!” Bliss hated to interrupt, but she had to. Candall could so hear it.

  I suppose I can, Candall admitted candidly, but it doesn’t fucking matter. It doesn’t matter because those who knew Shane let him continue imagining that he could hear it as well. By refusing to pull him aside and explain to him that he was deranged, they killed him stone cold dead. They let him believe he could convince these bastard machinemen to stand down their arms, all out curiosity to see. That’s it. Just to ‘see if it would work’.

  Which, Candall added dryly, it didn’t, as you can see for yourself.

  The moon was close now. On-screen, the Heavy Elite Specters were all turning their heads upwards, brows furrowing.
They’d detected Hungryfish’s approach. Candall wished there was time left for Miss Bliss to explain what was happening to her, but there was only time to finish one side of the story. He resumed.

  So that’s why, even if I can hear this fucking Harmony, I plan on dying. Yes, there is love there, and acceptance, and all that other namby-pamby hugging bullshit that all those fools and morons back home pretend that Harmony is all about. There only ever was room in my heart for one person, and I imagined until I met Shane that I would die alone, and unloved. And Harmony let him die. For no reason. You said these Elites will burn like stars in the heavens, Miss Bliss? So will we. We’ll burn right alongside them, and luck willing, those in the Harmony that schemed to kill Markson will feel it.

  I want them to feel the pain of my death as keenly as I feel Shane’s. With every drawn breath from now until the end, when Darkness Falls and the Light Rises, I want them to feel the loss of true love. I want them to feel it, so that if someone else like me turns up, they will do better.

  Now, Miss Bliss, if you would be so kind as to light this candle? Candall’s mind lit up with a smile. And if you like, a musical accompaniment would be agreeable.

  Hungryfish, Miss Bliss and Sa Candall hurtled towards the moon upon which the Heavy Elite Specters hurried to defend themselves against an unknown threat, sounds of Harmony booming through all the speakers, ripping through the encrypted comm signals of those same Elites, filling their ears with what was coming for them.

  The Hands of Glory, weapons designed to tear planets ten times the size of the moon at which they were plunging, lit, filling the emptiness of space with light so bright that, were anyone watching, they would imagine a new sun was being born.

  As had always been the plan, Hungryfish hit the moon just as the Hands reached the peak of their destructive brilliance.

  Everything went white. Candall’s last thought before every scrap of matter in a hundred thousand miles of the epicenter was torn asunder was no real thought at all, but merely a feeling.

  A feeling of joy. He had been returned to the one he’d loved.

  A feeling of peace. That he would no longer have to suffer in a world that had never seemed to care.

  And those feelings, whether he intended it or not, flooded backwards through the Harmony.

  Saint Candall the Glorious was born in the fire.

  Saint Candall the Vengeful burned through Harmony.

  Mother Bliss carried them both.

  Across the system, God soldiers sang their praises.

  ***

  “Name?” the bored security guard asked, without even bothering to look up from his proteus.

  Marcus Aurelius Tizhen huffed impatiently, reminding himself that today, of all days, was no time to lose his temper or fly into of his increasingly maudlin tirades. It’d taken forever to wade through the red tape for this meeting to be arranged and longer still –or so it felt- for the day to arrive.

  Losing his temper or crying now wouldn’t do anyone any good. The area was swarming with God soldiers. They’d look on either emotion poorly.

  So, as he’d learned on the stage, it was time to act. Did it matter if he was going to be playing himself? Marcus didn’t think so: he’d been playacting for so long now that it wasn’t until the witching hour crept up and he caught himself thinking those old sorrowful thoughts that he realized just how good at acting he truly was.

  All that, and more, would be tested today. Today his audience would be the largest anyone, anywhere, had ever stood in front before. The whole of Latelyspace would see Marcus Aurelius Tizhen shine.

  One last time.

  “Marcus Aurelius Tizhen.” Marcus put as much pride and arrogant hauteur into his deep voice as he ever had. He was the son of Father Tizhen, the man who’d once stood at the helm of the mightiest military organization ever seen, anywhere.

  “I am here,” he continued, lips curling into an ironic smile when who he was eventually percolated through the brain of the distracted security guard, “to see my Father. Before the show.”

  “Right.” Guardsman Smink nodded, tabbing a button on his proteus. Irritably, he snapped, “We’ve been waiting. You should’ve been here two minutes ago.”

  A faint smile crossed Marcus’ lips. Two minutes. To avoid anyone not in the business, getting grief over two measly minutes was the sort of thing to spark an argument. Friends not in the business were always shocked to learn that when it came to live shows, things were counted in seconds.

  With his Father being interviewed in the first ever multi-planet real-time conference with none other than Tricia Takanawa … there were reasons why he’d only been able to finagle a five or six minute, hurried conversation in a hallway while Vasily had his makeup done or his wardrobe changed.

  The interview was a big deal. News4You had been promoting it day and night, nonstop. Information about the newscast flooded proteii whenever you got too close to any N4U info-kiosks. Sheets spat out unwanted adverts for the colossal undertaking every half an hour, whether you’d programmed the wafer-thin device to keep you up to date on the news show or not. That last had to’ve cost the company millions and millions of dollars to accomplish, but it was for good reason.

  Yes, ‘Father’ Vasily had been on News4You before –not to mention the other channels as well- and yes, he’d given dribs and drabs about what ‘Harmony’ was, how he’d come to be seen and thought of as ‘Father’ by the God soldiers … he’d revealed all that and more, but today … today …

  Father Vasily, spiritual leader for the God soldiers and proponent of Harmony, was going to answer questions about anything within his area of knowledge. He’d been given leave by Chairman DuPont to be open and honest about his time as OverCommander, literally ordered to spill secrets that Chairwoman Doans had killed entire families to hide. Under that blanket freedom, much of what this man Garth Nickels had done to and for Latelyspace could be revealed.

  Given the absolute heights of curiosity every si and sa out there had and Chairman DuPont’s insistence on complete transparency, those secrets and more would almost certainly be unveiled.

  Marcus was positive other talking points would cover the murderous death-ship that’d floated relatively ignored above Port City for so long before suddenly disappearing overnight, the strange, unnamed and undocumented man that’d fought alongside the valiant and heroic Harry Bosch, events surrounding the inexplicable battle between that same man and yet another individual with powers strange and confusing in the lobby of the Palazzo.

  The horrors of the Gunboys, the twisted malfeasance that was Hollyoak the Homunculus, the secondary communication system floating in space with no one taking claim for it…

  Most of all, though, the failed actor was positive that the bulk of the four hour long roundtable discussion would consist almost entirely of truths surrounding the whispers about Chairwoman Doans’ alleged plans to conquer the entire Universe.

  Marcus plastered a calm look of acknowledgement on his handsome face. Inwardly, he laughed. Conquer the Universe. It sounded like a Screenshow one of his agents would’ve told him to try out for. There was and always would be a market for square-jawed heroes on the Screens. “Traffic was a bitch, sa. I apologize. I hope I didn’t cause anyone any problems.”

  “Not at all,” a bright but harried voice filled Marcus’ ears, “not at all. We’re running a bit behind as well, Sa Tizhen. Everyone above me is getting ready to commit suicide if we don’t create time out of thin air. My name is Alice, and I’m one of your father’s personal assistants.”

  Marcus turned from the guardsman to Alice the PA, a gracious, warm and welcoming smile on his face. The effect was instant; Alice, whether or not she was truly in good humor or not –not was more likely the case, especially if she was actually dealing with Vasily on a one-on-one basis- responded with a smile all her own.

  “Good.” He said, sliding a bit of concern into his voice, thinking of the last time he’d been late to see his father –more than thi
rty years ago, now, that time, and oh how he’d been in a panic over fear of disappointing the old bastard- to set the mood properly. “I would hate to upset him. Today especially.”

  Alice opened her mouth to agree when she said something else entirely. “My goodness! You played that scientist! On the show about The Box!”

  Mediocre fame was still mediocre fame, he supposed. Marcus managed at the last second to keep his mouth from twisting into a wry, sardonic grin. He only took those gigs –had only taken those gigs- to pay the bills when money got tight. A monkey could fill those roles without anyone being the wiser.

  Marcus gave Alice the PA a deep stage bow. He inclined his head in a gracious nod once he was standing straight. “Yes, that was me.”

  Alice clapped her hands, juggling the bulky Sheet she held. “You were much better in the last one! What was it like?” She grabbed hold of Marcus’ hand –clutching the Sheet to her chest- and started pulling him through the crowds of people intent on ensuring that this News4You simulcast came off without a hitch.

  Marcus disguised his heavy sigh as a bit of a cough. Even now, even after their fucking Box had launched itself from The Peak –tearing down that legendary cesspool of corruption, violence and death- even now people still believed. Still believed all the lies about The Box. Still believed that he and the other actors who’d portrayed this scientist or that God solider or the other secret agent had actually been in the same room as that ancient machine

  It was remarkable. With everything that’d happened to and in Latelyspace in the last few years, with the literal blanket being pulled from their heads, with all the truths being revealed, people still chose to believe in the most ridiculous things.

  Marcus held Alice’s warm hand in his, treated her to his ‘mysterious’ smile, and told her the same thing he’d been telling people since that very first time someone had asked him that stupid question. “It was … unlike anything I’d ever seen, Alice. Standing alongside The Box, the very thing that’d given us all hope, the chance to survive against unthinkable odds so very long ago … it was amazing.”