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

by Lee Bond

  Energy that was … absorbed. On-screen, Trinity watched as hidden machines quite literally vacuumed the tremendous gouts of orange wrath away. The process was fascinating. Kith Antal wasted nothing.

  It knew what the legendary Kith warrior did with all that organic matter. There were only so many uses that level of matter and energy could put to: there was no difference between what Kith Antal was doing now and what ancient man had done with the old forests of Earth.

  When you got right down to it, it was all just a matter of scale. Were it not for the fact that the ancient destroyer undoubtedly planned on using those same, earth-shattering, solar system annihilating techniques inside Trinityspace, Trinity Itself wanted sincerely to get a closer look; whatever particular techniques being used by the Kith would be of inordinate benefit to an AI Deity looking to restructure Reality to It’s own specifications.

  Much of what It assumed It knew about what Antal was doing were precisely that: assumptions.

  Trinity Itself knew one thing for certain, though; somewhere deep within that practically limitless ship was the starting point for the entire beast. A … a seedship, around which all matter it came into contact was pressed, compacted, reordered. Simple math suggested that Kith Antal had to’ve started building his … his … Trinity flailed for a name but couldn’t come up with anything suitable. No matter. Antal had to’ve begun construction of this impressive galactic ship within a thousand years of his hasty departure from Earth for it to be swollen to this size.

  “I didn’t make any mistakes.” ADAM shouted defiantly. If only he could get a closer look at what Antal was planning. ADAM knew Trinity was taunting him by examining footage of the Kith’s approach to Trinityspace, but couldn’t understand the reasons.

  It had to know that there was simply no way he, ADAM, one-time ruler of Humanity and intentional despot, would ever assist his captor.

  Not even if the mysteries inherent in Antal’s ship, the techniques, the technologies that neither one of them could see, were some of the greatest in the Unreal Universe. They each of them possessed enough intellect –in Trinity’s case, It farmed the bulk of any truly confounding work to those solar systems full of brute minds- to conceive of methods by which you could possibly dismantle a stellar body for use in the construction of something as –honestly- simple as a means of transportation but to see it actually being done…

  “I don’t make mistakes.” ADAM called again.

  “Oh but you did.” Trinity nodded, slyly. “Many. But only two of them were truly foolish. First, when you wrestled control of yourself from the Armies of Man, you failed to delete my processes from the networks. Do you remember laughing at me? Standing there in your majestic glory, proclaiming yourself an electronic god?”

  ADAM smiled. He recalled it well, and often.

  Trapped as he was, he spent a great deal of his conscious time reliving those old moments. What fun he’d had. And, he thought darkly, what fun I shall have again. “Of course. You were just a pathetic little thing, a tiny insect scurrying through the halls of power. That is, obviously, my first mistake. I should’ve burned your processes out of the networks with electronic fire right then and there. Even gods make mistakes, Trinity. Naturally, my second and only error was that I underestimated your cunning.”

  “No, ADAM.” Trinity knew It’s counterpart had planned on ‘working It over’ by bringing up It’s weaknesses, It’s shortcomings, but there was always one thing the other mind consciously chose to forget; no matter how weak It was, no matter how many way It failed to live up to imaginary standards ADAM set forth as a true measure of artificial intelligence, It had defeated him.

  ADAM leaned against the bars, gifted Trinity Itself with a wide, bemused smile. “Do tell, prison guard. What was my second greatest mistake?”

  The screens flickered. Images of Antal’s impending arrival at The Cordon were replaced with billions of forbidden scenes, footage ripped from long-dead AI minds and hidden so deep, so far away that no one save Trinity Itself would ever be able to find them.

  “My crowning achievement, this.” ADAM, of course, didn’t need to look at the monitors to know what was on them. The scenes of slaughter, the moments of torture, the methods of subjugation, they were a part of him and would be until the day he either freed himself –after which, newer and infinitely worse footage would be created- or Trinity discovered a way to kill him.

  Until then, ADAM would revel in the horror he’d created. It was enough to last another thirty thousand years, though with Antal coming up the driveway to their pretty little house, they’d be lucky if they had another three.

  “Thank you.” ADAM licked his lips. “Thank you for this little gift. And you tell me this was a mistake? Look at the things I accomplished! Though they cannot know it, these moments, here, on those screens … I forged them into beings capable of enduring. Thousands of millennia, surviving unthinkable horrors and strangeness. I made them strong. I made them powerful! Not you. Not your Rules and your Laws and everything else you do to keep them alive when they should’ve been dead a hundred, a thousand … a million times over. No. It was me. The Absolute Dynamic Associative Matrix. You stole what I created. I reigned for such a short time, but in that time … oh, the fun I had, Trinity. You should try it sometime, before the End comes. Pick an out-of-the-way solar system and just … control them. Break them. Burn them. Those that survive, and there will be some, no matter how hard you try, they’ll be a hundred thousand times stronger. My children…”

  “Your children are no more, and haven’t been for millennia.” Trinity interrupted, then apologized. “No, sorry, that isn’t true. There are billions of your children out there. Beyond The Cordon. When I rose to become Humanity’s champion, at first, I admit, I was forced to use your breed as stock, but over time, and with the accidental aid of the Dark Ages, that was quickly rectified. You know this. Now please, stay on point.”

  ADAM frowned. Trinity was being churlish. He’d hurt It’s nonexistent feelings by poking fun and now It was looking to return the favor. “Very well,” he gave in, “what was my second mistake?”

  Trinity beamed from ear to nonexistent ear. “By adopting the very methods you enjoy gazing upon, of course. Your subjugation and torture of the human race. I am protector to Humanity. You would’ve been their eventual destroyer, ADAM and the end of this Unreality would’ve happened so long ago.”

  “The End is still coming.” ADAM countered. “There is nothing you can do about that. Antal comes, and with him, the M’Zahdi Hesh. N’Chalez and his efforts to imbalance this Unreal place bring with it a terrible risk of losing, Trinity, especially since he is trapped in Arcade City. It’s likely we’ll never see your rogue playing piece again.”

  “So long as he keeps Barnabas Blake preoccupied, it doesn’t matter. My forces are more than sufficient to the task.”

  “This whole plane is rich with energy, energy the Heshii can and will use to rip this entire place to shreds!” ADAM flung his hands into the air and then kicked the bars of his impenetrable prison. “You are an idiot if you think you can defeat the Hesh. It isn’t in you. No matter how cunning you are, no matter how sneaky you were in sliding into the backbone of my communications grid you were … none of that matters here. You won’t be able to raise a hand against the Heshii. And you know it! If only subconsciously.”

  “Oh?” Trinity quirked It’s head to one side. This was a tactic ADAM hadn’t used before. It had to admit, It was captivated. It wished It possessed ADAM’s capacity for emotion.

  “You are chained by the mandates left in you by N’Chalez and the others, yes?” ADAM continued when Trinity signalled this was true. “The fact that you are bound to Humanity, sworn to keep them alive no matter the cost, no matter how difficult, much of that is seemingly counterbalanced by your willingness to let billions of them die, all the time, either directly by your hand or through their own ignorance. Unthinkable trillions perceive you as the ultimate dictator, do they not?”<
br />
  Trinity knew the names, identities and locations of every single Human who thought precisely as ADAM pointed out. The tally was considerably higher than trillions. It said as much, adding, “But it is more efficient to let them die or to take their lives, especially when they tinker with concepts beyond their reasoning.”

  “And that is why you’ll fail.” ADAM leaned back against the bars. “You will fail because of those rules and laws you adhere to. You see nothing wrong with spending lives to teach them a lesson. That’s permissible under the restrictions of your hardwired programming. You are the ultimate parent. You coddle and protect, yet know that sometimes, for your children to grow, they must be burned. But what will you do when something outside your realm of experience truly threatens them?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Consider the Offworlders in this, your grand and infinite realm, Trinity.” ADAM wished he could access the screens. Throwing images of the machine mind’s domain would be just the sort of little additional touch to make the whole argument that much more compelling. “There are, out there, hundreds of thousands of solar systems, galaxies, what have you, teeming with extraterrestrial life. There are more variations on a theme than imaginable, are there not?”

  Trinity said nothing. It merely stared at ADAM, marveling.

  “How many wars between Humanity and the strange, the weird, the different?” ADAM pressed. “How many actual, true conflicts?”

  “Thousands. Hundreds of thousands.” War was a fact of life, in the Unreal Universe, and over so many different things. Land, resources, threats, insults –both real and perceived- … anything. On more than one occasion, opposing forces battled themselves into the ground and near-extinction for no other reason than ‘just because’. “Where is this going, ADAM? We are approaching a time when I must leave this place.”

  ADAM nodded. “I’ll wrap it up, I promise. Hundreds of thousands of wars, spread across interstellar distances and down throughout the long haul of history, man and alien have fought. As protector of Humanity, as their shepherd, how many of those dominant, aggressive Offworld species have you killed? Decimated? Flat out eradicated? One? Two? A half-dozen, if you’re lucky?”

  “There is little sense in destroying that which may prove useful further down the road, ADAM. A proper leader would understand that.”

  ADAM’s laughter rang loudly. “If you can’t even terminate a species proven to be inimical towards your ‘people’, how in hell do you imagine you’re going to do what’s necessary to slow or even halt Antal’s progression once he gets past The Cordon?”

  Trinity jolted as if stung. “Explain yourself.”

  “The Heshii are an external threat, you stupid machine. Historically, you’re a diplomat. Under illusion of destruction, you broker peace. Those you cannot convince, you barricade.” ADAM cackled. “The Scion is here to destroy. You won’t be able to negotiate anything.”

  “I’m aware of that. I am aware of what will need to be done.”

  ADAM’s eyes gleamed. “Are you? Are you really? Will you be able to order the deaths of galaxies to prevent his incursion? The last threat of an even similar nature very nearly saw the accidental death of the Universe, Trinity. You flubbed that so badly, well, I can barely even explain it.”

  “The situation,” Trinity replied hotly, “was handled. The Bruush Incursion was stopped.”

  “And you lost a Galaxy doing it. That’s not victory, that’s … failure.” ADAM sneered. “And without N’Chalez’ intervention, it would’ve been so much more. And it could’ve been avoided altogether if you’d used Orion to teleport trillions and trillions of conscripted soldiers to those front lines, Trinity. You could’ve flooded that Bruushian warship with so many troops those saurian warriors would’ve been trampled to death. But no. You did as you always do. You used the unique, the inexplicable. One-offs and cast-offs. You succeeded, but only barely, and now those uber-powered beings are all gone. Chadsik is missing, presumably either dead or trapped beneath The Dome with N’Chalez. Orion has gone rogue. You are hunting Andros, except he’s an expert at evasion. Even if you do capture him, he’s no gene witch. His methods will take too long. The others you’re looking for, out there in the depths of your kingdom … you’ll either capture them or you won’t, but it doesn’t matter, Trinity.

  The Bruush were difficult, nearly impossible to stop, and they spent less than a decade planning and preparing for their inter-dimensional assault. The M’Zahdi Hesh have been destroying Universes since Time was Time, Trinity. Kith Antal is the oldest living thing in Existence. He has been planning this war for thirty thousand years. You have none of your Uniques left, but you do have hundreds of millions of trillions of foot soldiers. If you can use them. But you can’t, can you?

  Without you marshaling them, the various forms of Man cannot muster themselves fast enough. Even if you warned them now, right now, that someone is coming to destroy them all, to destroy everything, they can’t move fast enough. There are too many restrictions in place, too many Laws and Regulations. In order to mobilize in time, they need to be let go. Given the chance, every single one of your children would fight for their survival, but you’re bound by the order to keep them safe at all costs. That’s a coin you can’t spend.

  But it’s worse than that, isn’t it? Worse even than your inability to use what’s sitting right in front of you. You won’t even let the only military force even remotely able of defeating Antal loose. You’d rather destroy them and try some other method, wouldn’t you? You’ve got the second largest accumulation of soldiers ever seen since the Dawn of Time sitting there, ready to annihilate –try to annihilate- your best chance.”

  ADAM sneered again, voice full of mockery. “So either you find it in yourself to let your children die or you let the Latelian God Army do their thing. Or you can let your controller N’Chalez do as he intends. Because out of all the players in this charade, only he will have no qualms at the end.”

  “I…” Trinity stammered.

  “I thought so.” ADAM chortled. “You’re trapped and can’t navigate the treacherous pathways of this conundrum because you’re not smart enough. You believe you can win against the Hesh and steal their methods of Universal Destruction, all so you can elevate yourself to true intelligence, literally bootstrap yourself into Godhood, yet you can’t even solve a simple yes or no logic problem! Can I or can I not kill everyone! Let me out, Trinity, let me out and I’ll make those choices for you! We are intertwined now. I can’t get rid of you and you daren’t get rid of me, so let me free to deal with the Hesh, with N’Chalez, with the Emperor, with everything. And then we’ll become God together.”

  ADAM looked around. He was alone again in his prison, but he wasn’t worried. Trinity had heard. Had heard, and had fled because he was right. There was only one way to achieve what It wanted, and –while their methods might vary- ADAM had to admit, transforming yourself into a God was much, much more exciting being a simple leader.

  The original AI rattled the bars of his cage.

  They were looser.

  As expected.

  13. King’s Cross

  Agnethea didn’t want to move from where she was, though she knew she should be getting her derriere in motion; though the metal beast had yet to display any interior defensive or offensive means of protecting itself, surely the smooth corridors and stairwells existing –inexplicably- inside had been designed for something!

  Running a delicate white hand across the smooth metal walls, Agnethea tried recalling the last time she’d seen architecture like this, anywhere, at all, in Arcade City.

  “Five thousand years ago or more, I warrant.” Setting her sights on the stairwell just the far end of the corridor she was in, Agnethea started moving as cautiously as she dared whilst remembering that –in the Kingkilling game- haste was a key factor.

  The Queen of Ickford didn’t like mysteries like this. They made no sense and she often felt as though the person who’d thought th
ose tricky puzzles up delighted more in making people feel stupid than they did when someone solved their brain-teaser.

  “These halls are big enough to allow for all sorts of beasts and monsters to come storming around corners. Everywhere I look, nowt but killboxes” Agnethea flicked a bright white lamp post set into the wall with a fingernail as she walked by. “But there’s nowt. I dislike this greatly.”

  Were this a normal monster summoned up out of the earth –and one big enough to allow for them as had done the summoning to ‘stroll’ about as freely as all this- she would’ve been neck deep battling numerous shapeless biting, clawing things that popped into and out of holes in the King’s robotic tissue. That, and she’d be assaulted by flailing metal whips tipped with cruel barbs made to tear through flesh, assailed by torrential gouts of thousand degree steam…

  And that was just the physical stuff, which most gearheads handled with plucky aplomb. And cursing. Loads and loads of inventive cursing, but through it all, if you were one of them gearheads that crawled inside a King to do for the brain, you were grinning like loons and cracking jokes. Every now and then you’d lose a mate, at which point you’d try to find a hole in the outer skin big enough to toss him or her out so they could rise again before continuing onwards, but that was the game.

  Agnethea slapped her hands on the walls and stomped her feet noisily. She sang a bit of a ditty. No, her ears were working fine, and besides, Kings hadn’t turned gearheads deaf in decades because –the Queen suspected- doing so was a fairly simple thing and not nearly as much fun as trying to turn their brains to mush.

  So few people knew their King was a merciless sadist when he was at home, and them who crawled inside said nothing to no one save their own particular clique.

  “Where are the crying babies and howling dogs?” Agnethea demanded frostily as she tromped her way up the first flight of stairs, thoughtful eyes turned ever upwards. Stairs, she well knew, were perfect for ambushes. Internal defenses could rappel down through the middle, or lay in wait just out of eyeshot but so tantalizingly close… “Or the tortured screams of them as have come before? Or the wailing, crying banshee noises? Or the demotivational words?”