Spinebreakers

by Mitch Michaelson

  Seeing the gray uniforms, several squads of guards ran forward but stopped short, inside the shield.

  “They see us,” Glaikis said.

  “Don’t wave or anything. Just stumble along.” Cyrus leaned on her.

  The guards communicated with someone. The shield was turned off/on in a fraction of a second. Now it was closer to the ship and the guards were on the outside.

  Two squads of soldiers ran to Glaikis and Cyrus. As the soldiers got closer, they saw that the gray clothes didn’t match their own, and they slowed, pointing guns at the two.

  “Set me down,” Cyrus whispered.

  Glaikis gingerly set him down. He slipped to his knees and breathed heavily.

  “No, no more. We can’t continue, loyal servant!”

  “Who are you?” said one of the guards.

  “I? I’m surprised you don’t recognize me. I am Prince Richard Financio, merchant lord of the Wergeld Cartel. I submit to you, as I am unarmed. Now please take me to your leader so we may discuss my ransom.”

  The guards shuffled their feet. Glaikis wondered if Cyrus’s clichéd story would get them killed outright. She scanned the soldiers and looked for mercenaries. No experienced merc would fall for this. All she saw were short men with awful teeth. There were no signs of cybernetic enhancements under their pasty skin.

  “If you’re a prince, then we don’t need to take your servant with us.” They raised their guns at Glaikis.

  “Um! This is actually my niece! She’s worth something too.”

  Seeing hesitance in their eyes, he said, “Please, take us to your highest executive. I can offer a truce in the fighting and plenty of gold for my safe return.”

  The sergeant said, “Bring them.” They were grabbed and roughly searched. The soldiers patted them down, making sure they had no weapons, then hustled them to the shield. It flickered and appeared behind them. Glaikis found that interesting.

  They were taken to the coppery wall of the AndroVault and led through a tiny door. Through cramped bulkheads and small corridors, they were brought to an empty room and thrown in. Both acted like it was a rough throw, even though they were much stronger than the soldiers.

  The doorway filled with a moving lattice of red lines. The lasers silently rotated and crossed, never allowing enough space to stick even a finger through. The soldiers left, stationing a few guards at the end of the hallway.

  “Do you still have them?” Glaikis asked, referring to the explosives.

  Cyrus made a gesture with both hands to his pelvis. “I spent some time around these awakened. They would never touch our delicates.”

  They waited. Soon a short man with gray hair and a bent back arrived, guards flanking him.

  “Who are you really?” Lord Muuk asked with obvious disdain.

  Cyrus brought himself up to his full height and flexed. “I am Cyrus Majeure.” He repeated the long speech he had given on the Eye of Orion, finishing with, “And I am the Chosen One.”

  Lord Muuk dismissed the guards. He looked as confused as he was disgusted. “My men told me you gave them a story about being a merchant prince. You’re obviously not. I think I’ve heard of you. You followed Councilor Ulay around.”

  Cyrus confronted him through the laser lattice and said, “You’ve heard that speech before. That’s my speech. I’m a symbiant, cells grown in a laboratory, under the watchful eye of Admiral Slaught. You were supposed to hear that and follow me.”

  “It’s a little late for that,” Lord Muuk scoffed. “How did you get here to Lazuria 27? What are you doing here?”

  “Space tourism. Same as you,” Cyrus said with a grin.

  “No, we’re not the same. You’re a liar.”

  “You don’t have a problem with liars. I’m walking, talking evidence that Admiral Slaught was a liar. He lied to you and manipulated you. He was worse than a liar, he was a murderer. Yet you wear that white bandana around your neck in remembrance of him, don’t you? You chose the wrong role model. That’s the truth.”

  “I don’t let facts get in the way of faith.”

  “Admiral Slaught wasn’t one of you.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you. Councilor Ulay supported our cause, our faith, our traditions! You will never understand. We don’t care if he was something else before he came to the Old Ways!”

  “Facts swim upstream with you don’t they? You don’t want to know the truth. You’ve been manipulated. Do you know that? Do you accept it?”

  Lord Muuk said, “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about my faults. Why should I question my beliefs if they’re right? Growth is for cowards. Men with no strength in their convictions.”

  “I’m proud of my convictions but they don’t lead me to kill innocent people.”

  “If you’re proud of your immoral ways, and you claim you can’t be swayed, why talk to me?”

  “Curiosity.” Cyrus shrugged. “I had to see for myself.”

  Lord Muuk called his guards. “Bring the discipline robots. We will learn what we need from these two, one way or another.”

  As Lord Muuk walked away, Cyrus said, “You won’t get anything from me.”

  Lord Muuk said over his shoulder, “I hope you resist.”

  They were left alone in the cold room. It had unadorned red-brown metal walls and nothing to sit on. The doorway was crisscrossed with needle-thin red laser beams, slowly rotating and moving, never allowing more than a tiny hole. Glaikis walked the edge of the room, tracing the riveted walls with her fingers.

  “We’re nowhere near the engines or e-cores,” she said.

  “We’re on level 62, high above and forward of them.” Cyrus relaxed against the wall near the door.

  “That’s right, you were on this ship before.” Her study of the room didn’t reveal anything useful, so she eyed Cyrus. “The discipline robots will be coming. You’re awfully calm.”

  He looked down the corridor. “We won’t be here when they arrive. That’s why I said Muuk wouldn’t get anything from us. I’m just waiting for the guards to relax.”

  “Oh, you have an idea?” She wasn’t sure if he was serious.

  He gave her a thumbs-up. “Do you have anything metal on you?”

  “A necklace.”

  “That will work if you don’t want it back.”

  Glaikis gave him the chain. He broke small sections off and checked both directions of the hall. He waved her back from the lasers as they continuously, slowly repositioned, then he tossed a piece of the chain through them. It crossed a laser, skidded across the floor and sirens went off. Three guards came running, guns in hand. They saw the laser grid in the doorframe and scowled at Cyrus suspiciously. He couldn’t have had a more innocent look. His pose was nonchalant.

  The guards grumbled and went back to their station at the end of the hall.

  Glaikis walked over casually. “Are you trying to get them to shut off the lasers? They still have guns.”

  He whispered without moving his lips, “Shhh. There are sensors you can’t see. Just wait.”

  Then he began a game. He would throw a piece of the necklace through the door, the alarms would sound and three guards would come running. Each time they shut off the alarm. Eventually only two guards came. Then when Cyrus did it again, they didn’t come at all and the alarm was quickly shut off. Finally he threw one and the alarm didn’t sound at all.

  Glaikis whispered, “How does this help?”

  “They’re tired of the alarm, they probably think it’s broken, so they shut it off. One went away, probably to report it to maintenance. They’re still confident in the lasers.”

  “And?”

  Cyrus stuck his hand through the laser mesh. Glaikis went pale and almost ran to him. The lasers could easily slice a human to bits, but Cyrus was unfazed. Glaikis looked down and saw the scattered links of her necklace on the floor. None were melted or even scorched.

  “When I was on the ship before, I thought they would expose me. So I thought ahead and l
owered the intensity of the lasers in the holding cells. No one knows they’re powerless.”

  With wide eyes Glaikis said, “I’m impressed. How did you think to do that?”

  “I watched Steo. He always thinks ahead. I started doing that too, preparing myself with applications in my lee, disabling these lasers, getting that vial of bacteria, all part of my plan to kill Slaught.”

  “It worked. Smart move.”

  “Steo’s smart. I’m just a copy.”

  Glaikis smiled at him, not in sympathy but for the first time, admiration.

  Lord Muuk found Leech in the control room grilling a crewman over his inefficiency. The master of the bioark let the robot finish.

  “Lord Muuk, I have appraised the skills of the control room staff. I can have the report ready for you in an hour, if you wish.”

  “Very good. I have another task for you first though.” He gestured to the floating machines with harsh iron masks and arms ending in wicked hooks. “Take the discipline robots up to level 62, the penal cells. There are two prisoners. Use whatever tools you need to determine why they are here. Assess their threat. Can you do that?”

  Leech bowed. “It will be done. What condition should I leave the prisoners in, Lord Muuk?”

  “None at all.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Escapees

  Cyrus said, “When we get back to civilization, I’m thinking about getting a minstrel.”

  “A minstrel? What’s a minstrel?” Glaikis asked.

  “A poet to follow me around and document my exploits. Maybe write songs about me.”

  They had knocked out the two guards and dragged them into a nearby room. Now they were swapping clothes with them.

  “Let’s set the bombs and get out of here alive first,” she said. “You’re tall so you should hunch to look shorter and less … strapping.”

  They tied on white bandanas and left the room.

  “Lord Muuk,” said Limax, the Reminder of Contribution. “How will we attend to questions about the deaths of humans on this planet?”

  “Alien collaborators are traitors to our species. They deserve our contempt and if necessary, death. Eventually they will be freed from their mental and physical bondage, when we’ve established our empire on Ino. Human losses until then are unfortunate coincidences. You have to keep the goal in mind, Limax! Think of the glorious world that awaits us!”

  “Yes, Lord. Now, what of reports of … excesses by our soldiers?”

  “Legal and moral considerations are different in war than they are in peace. We simple, civilian administrators can’t judge the actions of noble soldiers who defend our lives. However if someone violated our ways, we can bring them back here. We certainly won’t allow them to be judged by faithless locals with their twisted laws!”

  They shuffled along through the colossal ship, avoiding areas of activity.

  A large band of soldiers ahead made them deviate course. Cyrus said, “I’m not sure where we are anymore.”

  “I think we need to turn here and go down another level,” Glaikis said.

  They found a long, wide hallway crossing their path. They waited until no one was in sight, then walked briskly across. They went through the open door, checked to make sure no one saw them and closed it behind them.

  “What’s that smell?” Cyrus said. Glaikis noticed it too. It was the scent of cold sweat.

  Turning, they looked at a large gloomy room with figures in static poses. Some stood, many lay or sat, but they were silent and stationary and stared vacantly. The temperature was lower in here. Glaikis skin felt clammy.

  Cyrus stepped forward into the poorly lit room. He reached a group of three croymids and reached out to touch one’s shoulder.

  Glaikis said nervously, “Don’t do that.”

  He stayed his hand. “They’re dead.”

  Glaikis walked forward cautiously. “Dead. Posed.”

  The three croymids wore ragged, ill-fitting clothes. Each had their mouths wide open in an aggressive roar, revealing their crowded, flat teeth. Their fists clenched jagged, hacking lengths of iron. Their belt buckles were skulls. Cyrus stepped around them and saw they had tails added. The croymid’s forearms were crudely wrapped in metal, like some cyber-enhancement gone wrong.

  With wide eyes, Cyrus and Glaikis warily moved through the room.

  Next they found two ezwegians, with drooping noses and floppy ears. Their faces were twisted into wicked grimaces, with their eyebrows arched and mouths stretched into false smiles. Glaikis pointed at a small plaque by their feet. It read, Moneychangers for anti-human slavers.

  “What did we stumble into,” Glaikis breathed. “What is this?”

  “A museum?”

  “More like a mausoleum. By the dark nebula, they were all murdered.”

  Some dead novorians where arranged in off-kilter positions. Their eye sockets were hollow. Blackened ooze hung from their mouths. Their folded skin was marked by pustules seemingly ready to burst. Maggots frozen in time clung to their creases. The plaque said, Rotting alien filth: beware disease!

  “These aren’t models,” Cyrus said.

  “No, they were synthetically preserved.”

  Tirrian women were further in. Their bi-colored hair was still bright and they had feathers mingled in their manes. Each bore a whip in one hand and a chain in the other. The chains led to strange dog-like creatures. The tirrians were lit from below, making them look cold and cunning, emotionless and crafty. The plaque said, Slavers with their animal mates.

  Not much scared him, but the normally curious Cyrus recoiled from a display of creatures with blood-red cracked skin. Glaikis came up next to him.

  “I always wondered what honna looked like with their masks off,” Cyrus said.

  “I don’t think I can stand much more. Let’s get out of here.”

  The honna’s jaws hinged and cheeks stretched, allowing them to open wide, showing sharp, white fangs. Forked, spined tongues drooled out of their gaping maws. Crude metal horns erupted from their foreheads and mingled with their oily, black hair. Each honna was a visage to terrorize any human child. In their hands they bore masks, but these weren’t the usual flat panels that depicted smiles, they were the faces of human skulls.

  “Even these were probably modified. I don’t think honna have metal horns,” Cyrus said.

  Some more croymids stood at the end, kneeling and nude. They were women, and had additional breasts sewn onto their chests.

  Finally at the end of a room they came to a large insectoid creature, hung from hooks. The plaque read, The Kurzia Monster: murderer and devourer. In its claw was a doll.

  “Curio!” Glaikis cried out. She walked unsteadily to where he dangled. Her eyes searched the dead foaz, as if she would find some life left there.

  “He was friendly! He was peaceful! He liked dolls and admired humans. How can they kill him so easily?” She remembered speaking to the insectoid alien back on Kurzia Station. They had discussed how the foaz were custodians of their world, harmless and nurturing. She fell to her knees in horror.

  Cyrus went to her and put his arm around her.

  “How can they rationalize such hatred?!” she cried.

  “Lastly, Lord Muuk,” said Kinch, the Reminder of Obedience, “We have the problem of soldiers returning from the field with foreign icons and information. People may have questions about what they see.”

  This made Lord Muuk pause. It had been ages since his people had gone to sleep. Every one of them believed in their heart of hearts that humans were exceptional, a special species. They had all taken purity oaths. The span of time hadn’t lessened their faith. However this was a fragile time. Perhaps a challenge to their faith could be used to reinforce the Exceptionalist doctrine.

  “And what of you, Kinch? Do you have questions?”

  “I am the Reminder of Obedience. If you asked me to leap from the top of the ship to my death I would do it without question.”

  “Yet you brought t
hese issues to lay on my brow.”

  “There are those who will have questions. I ask for the wisdom to address them.”

  “Then I will remind the Reminder. I am the Defender of the People and Servant of the Old Ways.

  We are the victims! It is our beliefs that are oppressed! Do you think the Appreciators here would have welcomed us and banished the aliens that lived in their midst? How can we live as we wish to live, pure and free of alien interference, if that is not allowed? These pacifists refute that the strength of our soldiers is the strength of our culture. Pacifism is immoral!

  The galaxy is no different than it was when we set out. Perhaps it is worse. Our ways are right. If you accept that our ways are right – which you once did – then what must we do to make our destiny come true? Our beliefs are our laws. They are the authority by which we live and by making concessions they aren’t true anymore. Our beliefs are true for all humans, not just us!

  We must fight for what is right. In doing so, we must make war against that which is wrong. We must establish a pure place – an empire – for all humans to flock to. Until then we are against them because they are against us.”

  Kinch accepted the words of his better and left. He always felt strengthened by speaking to other Reminders, and went on his way at ease.

  However Lord Muuk sensed a weakness in him that he didn’t get from Doib, the Reminder of Soldiers. He decided to change Kinch’s guard. The men protecting him would be Lord Muuk’s from now on, and they would report any wavering in his loyalty.

  The cool room smelled rancid. Glaikis sobbed.

  Cyrus said quietly, “Glaikis I don’t think we should stay here. Let’s move on.”

  “Move on? Just walk out of the hall of murder?”

  Cyrus didn’t know what to say. He felt the same churning in his stomach at the sights around him, the gruesome indifference to life on clear display. This was the pit of the AndroVault’s culture, the true core of a people that more than anything abhorred difference. Alien meant opposite, incompatible and evil.