“What are you–”
The words die in my throat as I gasp. As she surrounds me with… Herself.
Like a skintight suit of armor, Astra coats every part of my body but my head. I can feel her cover me, warm and flowing like oil, as she pushes into my pants and wraps my chest. The bit that she left to wrap my arm rejoins her with a little plop as it meets the rest of her. She envelops my arms, my legs, and finally solidifies like that, holding me upright.
In front of the door.
“Holy… Fuck.” I shiver. “You feel… So good.”
Her entire body trembles. I can feel it against every part of me. Impossibly, my cock tries to harden, but can’t where she’s wrapped it tight.
“Oh my God, Sam. I just wanted to help, but this… This is…”
A chime. The familiar rush of sound, like air flooding a vacuum.
Time’s up.
“Oh God, please,” she whispers. My arm moves on its own, somehow. No, she’s doing it. Coating me so she can manipulate me. My hand flips upward, and just before it hits the grooves meant just for me, the silver that shrink wraps my fingers recedes. My hand thunks into the print.
Astra hits hers at the same time.
The door ignites, begins to dissolve.
Are we too late?
My living Astra armor carries us to the corner, where we peek down the hallway.
Scraaaape…
He’s coming. Panic strangles what little breath I have left as Astra takes us an involuntary step backward. The torches extinguish as he passes them and sucks their light into his blurred essence. That’s a new, terrifying detail I could have lived without. He’s maybe fifteen paces away, coming slowly but unrelentingly, like a black tide that never recedes.
“Please, please, please,” Astra whispers. I can’t tell where the voice is coming from, where her head is. My chest?
We turn, dash back to the door. It’s almost gone, now. Why the hell did they make doors that open so slow? What asshole designed this shit? I try to ask Astra. For some reason, my drunk brain seems to think this information is really important right now. All that comes out is a mumble. I can’t form words, can barely breathe.
Behind us, the Shepherd turns the corner and takes us in.
The door dissolves before he raises his blade and we fall through the archway, Astra still wrapping me like a second skin.
Before the door reappears, we turn, take in the Shepherd one last time.
His eyes blaze with promise.
This isn’t over.
4
Convalescence Chamber 1
Aspirant #1
Room Timer: 00:10:00
Consciousness returns slowly.
I don’t remember passing out. Fleeting dreams of heat and safety melt away. Dreams of diving into a vast ocean, as warm as the noonday sun and cleansing like confession. A presence in the water with me; feminine, so close that I can’t tell where I begin and she ends.
It’s wonderful. I hate that it isn’t real.
My body still hurts like a bastard, but I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. I’m sitting against something, I think; despite being shirtless, I can’t feel a wall, or anything else, behind me.
Orange light goes mad above me. It bathes the room in a strobing that pulses like the world’s most depressing rave. Damn. The only time I’ve seen it even close to this intense is when one of us has been really, really fucked up.
I wonder how close I came to biting it.
So stupid, to step into the hall like Clint Eastwood or some shit. I should have known this place would throw a curveball. I don’t know why the first trial was so much harder than last time, but I’ve learned my lesson. A painful, baseball bat to the teeth kind of lesson.
Experimentally, I try to flex the arm Gruk came close to yanking off. My bicep hurts, but it’s nothing like before. I close my eyes, get ready for fresh agony, and try to lift my hand.
I can’t.
Fear, primal and raw, grips me. What if the healing lights aren’t enough? What if this is a new, horrible twist the Citadel’s throwing at us? Love the Fallout games? Good! Introducing: Permanently Damaged Limbs! The crowd goes wild!
Okay. Okay, calm the hell down. Overreacting. Maybe I’m not fully healed, yet. Or maybe it’s…
Oh.
“Uh, Astra? You… You awake?”
Instantly, sensation. Along every inch of my body. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before, but she still armors me, so tight and solid that I can’t stir, can barely flex my muscles.
She feels… Good. Incredible. Like being coated in warm, soothing oil. I gasp with regret as she recedes and pulls away like a blanket. She pools next to me, reforming and matching my pose, sitting with her back to the wall. When she’s finished, the only part her still touching me is her hand; fingers laced with mine, she grips me so tight it almost hurts.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “You were so… It was so close. I thought if I stayed with you, kept you safe, maybe it would…. It’d help.” She looks down. “Irrational. I know.”
“No. It was…” I squeeze her hand. “I dreamed of you.”
Her eyes are like the ocean I shared with her in my dream. “You did?”
“Yeah. I knew you were with me. That I was safe. And I–Ohhh shit…” I moan as something in my knee knits back together. It feels like two bones grinding back into place. “Sorry… I–”
“No, it’s okay.” She’s got her little smile back, sad but fearsome. “You don’t have to say anything else. That was perfect.”
There are a million things I want to say, things to wipe the sadness from her face, but I have no idea how long we have. Anyway, I get the impression that she’s stubborn as hell and that actions are going to speak a lot louder than words.
What actions? Do I love her, like I love Mika and Syl? Sitting next to her as she rests her head on my shoulder, it sure feels like it. I trust her, as much as I trust the others. Care for her, her life, enough to sacrifice my own. And I want her, as much as I’ve ever wanted anyone. My blood heats as I remember her bent, fetching my clothes, or how she shifted forms into one of my first teenage fantasies in the dungeon cell.
What does that say about me? That I’ve fallen in love with three women? That all three don’t seem to care? What has this place done to me?
I don’t care. They don’t care. Screw it. The Earth’s been invaded. Less than ten percent of the population alive. This is post-apocalyptic Terminator stuff, and suddenly it’s hard to give a shit that Karen in Akron might have some kind of moral problem with the situation.
And so, instead of speaking, I turn to Astra. Every bone in my body aches like I’ve been used as a crash test dummy, but I don’t care about that, either. Not now.
I turn her chin with a finger. “Sam, wha–?”
Her lips are so soft. So perfect. It’s hard to believe she’s not human. It’s not a long, lingering kiss like before. There’s nothing sexual. Not this time. Just a press of the lips, long enough that she closes her eyes and shivers before I pull away.
She’s silent for a long time. Finally, she takes a long breath. “Sam–”
“Shh. Later.”
“But–”
“No comprendo English.”
Astra’s mouth opens and closes. “Sam! I–”
“Does not compute.”
She laughs, finally. “You’re impossible.”
“Probably how I’ve lived this long,” I say, wincing as something in my spine realigns.
“Something like that.” Tentatively, as if she’s afraid to touch me, she runs her fingers along my arm. It’s the gentlest brush, like I’m a mirage that might evaporate if she pushes too hard. “You’re a marvel.”
“Me? Dude. You are fucking incredible.”
“Me?” She echoes. “I’ve been an Aspirant for two hours and I’ve spent the entire time terrified.”
“And you bluffed an orc, killed him and his buddy, and carried me out of there
like some kind of badass mech.” I pull her closer. “Like I said. Incredible.”
She buries her face in her folded arms. “Okay, fine. I’m a warrior princess.”
“Goddamn right.” I can tell she’s not buying it, not fully. Not yet. That’s okay. As long as she keeps doing what she’s doing, I’m good with it. “Speaking of which, how the hell do you shift like that? Change size? I’m no physics major, but I seem to remember something about conservation of mass…”
Astra turns her head so only half her face is showing. It’s enough to see her mouth quirked, incredulous. “Sam. What part of fighting a lightning goddess on a pirate ship in outer space makes you think the Citadel’s programmers cared about the laws of nature?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay. Good point.” I poke her in the ribs, earning a muffled giggle. “What can you do?”
“Do?”
“You know.” I extend my powers, a light touch along her shoulders, no more than the brush of a feather. She shivers, gasping. “Powers.”
“I don’t know how,” she says, exhaling slowly, “you expect me to be able to answer serious questions when you can’t keep your mind to yourself.”
“Sorry. When you’re not an orc you’re kind of hard to resist.”
“I don’t understand,” she says with a half-smile. “But I’m finding it harder and harder to argue.”
“Good.” I steeple my fingers, cheesy bad guy style. “My plan is almost complete.”
“Oh? And what’s at the end of this plan?”
“Oh…” I brush her again, along her belly this time. Then just a bit lower, lingering with my mind. Her whole body goes rigid as her eyes shut tight, and her little whimper is so much more than I’d hoped for. “You’ll see.”
“Powers,” she manages. “You were asking…”
“Right.” I release mine with a last twitch upward, earning another sound that’s almost more animal than human. “Let’s talk about that.”
The look she gives me is half desire and half murder. For a minute I think she’s going to pounce and rip what’s left of my clothes off, but something banks in her eyes as she schools herself.
That’s okay. I’m good with wearing down her defenses bit by bit.
“I can change form,” she says, still darting sideways looks at me. “Obviously. I don’t really know how far I can take it; I’ve never needed to find out.”
“Why give you the ability in the first place?”
“It was Elise’s idea, actually.” Her mouth thins as her eyes lose focus. It’s an expression I’m starting to associate with her accessing her creator’s memories. The woman whose form she wears, now. “The Aspirants chosen would be varied. Different nationalities and personalities. Being able to alter my form to put them at ease could help them trust me, and in turn, survive.” Her sudden silence is pregnant with bitterness. “Didn’t work, though.”
“Not your fault. Or Elise’s.”
“Yeah. Anyway. I can change parts of myself. From what I can tell, what I create is only limited by my imagination. Programming. Whatever you want to call it.” She raises a hand, pointing her fingers upward. Suddenly, their tips melt and reshape into flowers, beautiful and impossibly complex in a rainbow of gentle hues. Those then split into a dozen more, dividing over and over until her hand is entirely gone and a bouquet of at least a thousand tiny buds jostle and erupt upward. Each has dozens of petals, and each petal is a different color and material.”
It’s incredible, and only takes seconds. “How?”
“Programming. I have the emotion and memories of a human, and the capabilities of a computer.” She smirks, and her hand reforms in a shimmer of silver. “I’m a lot slower since I lost access to the Citadel, though.”
“Slower.” I remember how quickly she got Arok’s form perfect, or how insanely detailed her Femme Shep was. “Right.”
“Not much else to tell. I can make blades. Can harden my skin, somewhat. Armor myself.”
“Handy.” Something else occurs. “When the Shepherd… Well, back in the first hall, your body liquefied instantly. Again, when you tore yourself apart trying to pick the lock. But when you bandaged my wound, it stayed intact.”
“Intent,” she says, answering my unasked question. “If I lose something accidentally, or in battle, it’s gone until I gather it. But if I leave it on purpose, with intent…”
“Got it.” That also lets me know what would have happened if Gruk had pulped her back in the hallway. “So, like I said before. You’re incredible. In fact, bringing you with me feels a bit like cheating.”
She doesn’t answer, which I hope is a good sign. She’s spent a lot of time denying what she wants, or how worthy she is. Her eyes linger above the distant door, where the red numbers of our room timer haven’t started ticking away yet.
00:10:00...00:10:00…
“We won’t survive much longer.”
I sigh. “I know.” Even with a badass shapeshifting AI at my side, we can’t continue like this.
“I should have seen this coming. The Citadel… Its programming is adapting… Is so unimaginably complex.”
“How does that–” My words die as the last of my aches fade, and the display at my wrist dings.
CONVALESENCE COMPLETE. INITIATING ROOM TIMER
Time to get to the point. “What are you getting at?”
“That we can’t do this. Can’t continue.”
“What else are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.” She stands suddenly, not letting me go. “But this can’t continue. For the same reasons I hacked the Shepherd to help you escape the witches. For the same reason that more than two thousand Aspirants failed before you.” Her face flushes, and her eyes burn with old fury. “This place can’t be finished. It’s impossible.”
“Let’s get after it, then,” I say, nudging her.
She pulls and I let her help me up. Truth be told, I feel as good as I ever have now that world’s most painful medicine’s done its work, but I don’t want to let her go.
“The Citadel’s adapted,” she says, still fixed on the exit door. “Your code’s changed since the first time. It’s been enhanced. The programming knows that, can read it.”
I move in front of her and she finally looks away from the room timer. “So, the challenges now…”
“Are as hard, or harder, than the one I saved you from the first time.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah. Without you just now, I’d already be dead.”
“And the next chamber will be worse. We may not even make it to the first respite area.”
“Great. Lovely.” Something drops like ice into my heart. “Mika. Syl. If this place has gone all Borg on us–”
“Borg?”
“You know. ‘Resistance is futile. We have adapted.’ Never mind. That means Mika and Syl’s challenge…”
“Is equal to ours.”
Crap. I swallow, turn a full circle. “We have to find them.”
“Sam.” Astra stops me with a hand to my wrist. “They are strong. They will survive.”
“Not if they continue! Not for much longer!”
“I know. And I’m thinking. Let me… Let me try something else.”
She moves to the exit door, and once again, begins tapping a rapid series of strokes into the finger grooves. The door shifts color as her fingers move in a blur, emitting a series of tones that mean nothing to me. It does to Astra, though, and her frown deepens as she pauses and waits for the door to revert to normal. She tries again, this time darting into my handprint from time to time, but the results are the same. The door lights red and green, flashes a few times, and emits a series of beeps that sound like…
“Failure,” Astra says, slumping. “It won’t let me in. My codes do nothing. For a moment, I can almost get it to recognize me, but then the programming recognizes me as an Aspirant and it dies.”
“Worth a try,” I say. “Weird, though. Why did you need codes if you were basically all
powerful before this?”
“It’s complicated,” she says, walking along the wall, trailing long fingers across the featureless material. “The programmers who designed this place tried to think of everything. Including a corrupted or broken AI. I don’t know how much you know about coding and programming–”
“Take whatever you imagine I know…”
“Yeah?” she pauses, brightening.
“Less than that.”
“Ah,” she says, crestfallen. “Imagine a videogame world. A world with a set, delineated path. That’s the path the Aspirants travel. Now imagine if something went wrong and the Aspirant’s needed shortcuts. Hidden pathways. A way through if my programming was corrupted or erased.”
“Minus world,” I say, scratching my chin. “Interesting.”
Her eyes twitch for a few seconds as she accesses my memories, and then she smiles. “Minus World. Mario. Sure. Simplistic, but that works.”
“So, you’re saying we can skip trials?”
“Yes. I just don’t know how.”
I blink. “Wait. You were God here for however many years, for thousands of Aspirants, but you don’t know where the Easter eggs are?”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t programmed to need to know. If I had to be somewhere, I went.”
“But this makes no sense. If the Aspirants needed to bypass a trial or access the back ways, how the hell would they even know to look?”
“They’d be notified.” Her back is to me, and her voice is so quiet, so suddenly sad that I step forward almost involuntarily to take her shoulders. Her hand lingers on the wall, frozen in place.
I don’t want to press something that hurts her this badly, but we’re already at eight minutes til we have to move or die. “Notified?”
“By the Citadel team. The real people, outside the program, monitoring the system. Watching the Aspirants. Watching me. Sending updates from the real world.”
I don’t have to see her face to get where this is going. “How long since you’ve had any kind of communication from them?”
Silver fingers finally fall from the wall as Astra’s body seems to shrink in on itself. In a barely audible voice, she says, “I have not heard from the Citadel team in over a year. Since Aspirant one zero three three failed in trial four.”
Aspirant 2: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure Page 5