Blood Crown

by Ali Cross

  A quick inventory of myself reveals I have been returned to full capacity and I wonder what it might mean. Am I to be given my freedom, then? Or is this the equivalent of a last meal? Or is it just to remind me of all that I have so when Galen strips me of it, the loss will be all the more profound?

  Good afternoon, Prince Nicolai, the ship communicates to my mind in flawless Russian.

  Good afternoon, I reply. How’s the weather?

  The ship chuckles before directing me to bathe and dress.

  Not seeing any alternate activity—and I have always enjoyed being clean and dressed—I move to the washroom. After my shower I step into the dressing room and discover my uniform is laid out for me. At first I think it is a replica—until I take note of the sword that is displayed next to the clothing. There is no doubt it is my sword—and there’s only one way it could have come to be here. Anger, swift and fierce rages through my veins and sours my stomach.

  Natalya.

  My Servant is a traitor. A Mind sympathizer. The woman I loved and respected more than my own mother.

  The betrayal cuts deeper than Dr. Maxwell’s blades.

  I stare at the sword, the muscles in my jaw clenching, and I promise myself that if I ever see Natalya again she will feel my blade as it severs her head from her body.

  I spend the next four hours sitting in a cushioned chair, holding my sword in my hands. I cannot leave my room. The ship has refused to answer any of my queries.

  And so I sit, turning my blade over and over while imagining every possible way I can end the android insurrection.

  Then something different happens.

  I feel Serantha’s presence.

  Her awareness skims over mine, then promptly shuts down. Serantha lives! The phrase becomes my mantra and gives meaning to every new thought, every new plan.

  Chief among them—my promise that the moment I have the chance I will take her in my arms and kiss her properly.

  Galen was foolish to bring her here. He has no respect for us, for who we are. Because together we can do anything.

  Including end him.

  The ship announces it’s time for me to leave my room and make an appearance on the sky deck—a place Lily assures me is the most exquisite site in all the Empire. I stand in front of the door, nervously fiddling with the gold brocade at my waist and wait for it to open. I have no idea where to go, but Lily insists I am worrying for nothing—and when the door opens I understand why.

  A row of guards—human—line either side of the door, stretching away as far as I can see. They wear black uniforms, adorned with gleaming gold buttons and the emblem of my family’s house splashed across their chests—a golden eagle, wings outstretched, talons ready to grasp. With a signal I can’t discern, the soldiers raise polished sabers above my head, creating a canopy. I look up and my breath catches in my throat—beyond their swords the roof rises impossibly high to a blue sky with soft fluffy clouds drifting by.

  I know the sky is false, that it is a creation of the Mind to imitate the beauty of mankind’s Earth. I know it, but it isn’t any less stunning.

  Lily steps up behind me and gives me a gentle, “ahem” which I take to mean I am to start walking. Beneath my golden satin slippers white flower petals release their perfume as I walk on them. Beneath them, a red carpet has been lain, stretching between the soldiers.

  Outside of my rooms I feel Nic’s presence more strongly. He pushes at my barriers, trying to break through, trying to communicate with me—but shutting people out is something I have always excelled at. Prince Nicolai is no exception.

  Wherever the pathway is taking me, Lily wasn’t wrong that there appears to be a celebration. The ship communicates information to me as fast as I can request it. There are eight-five humans in attendance—either serving, as these faux guards who direct my way, or anxiously awaiting the reunion of the royal heirs—Nicolai and Serantha, mankind’s last hope. I listen for the sarcasm, but it isn’t there.

  There are also one-hundred and seventy-two Mind Elite in attendance, each with a retinue of thirty attendants. In addition, the grand atrium, to which I am being led, holds over five thousand androids of varying classes.

  Two million spheres of light decorate the atrium, where trees, flowers and shrubbery of all varieties, grow. There are four ponds, each with no less than four toads and twenty-two lily pads. There are one thousand and twelve red rose bushes, and an equal number of golden-hued rose bushes—each to represent my and Nicolai’s royal houses. All this and more the ship downloads to me, so I shouldn’t be surprised when the walkway opens up to a wide circle of white-clad guards and I step out into a clearing at the center of the gathering.

  Music, which had only skirted my awareness as I walked, now plays with increased volume and vigor. It is lovely and adds to the surrealism of the scene. If I had ever cared to dream about the perfect world, of a perfect moment of happiness, this might have been it. But of course, I have never bothered with fantasies, and death lurks behind these smiling faces.

  Across from me, a great distance away, I see a similar column of soldiers, dressed in black with red stripes down their legs, their swords raised. Nicolai stands at their head. We see each other at the same moment and for the single second my guard is down, Nicolai sends me one word—Trap!

  Galen, dressed in a white suit with no adornment, steps to my side and takes my arm in his. I glance at Nic and see two soldiers wrestling him toward a stage.

  “You look lovely, Serantha,” Galen murmurs as we stroll across the square. I nod, unsure of how to respond. I am busy trying to identify the specific danger that screams at me from all my senses.

  “It is such a pleasure to see you returned to your glory. You know, I knew you when you were a child. I was a friend to Archibald and your father—such a pity what came of them.” He pauses, but the silence isn’t empty. I feel him prodding my mind, skimming for my reaction. But I shove his presence away, stuffing my secrets into the vault Archibald created when he first hid me. I allow a sliver of useless information to be gleaned and hope it is enough to assuage him.

  “Yes, he spoke highly of you,” I answer, knowing that the egotistical Mind will see truth in what I share—that Archibald had told me he had once respected Galen, once called him friend. I hope I sufficiently repress the fact that he also knew Galen had betrayed all of us and that he is a power hungry megalomaniac. “This reception is . . . lovely,” I say, hoping to soothe him with flattery.

  It seems the right approach, for the traitor perks up, standing taller as he gazes about. “Isn’t it though? Stunning, truly. Though nothing compares to your beauty.” I glance at him, but his eyes give nothing away. I know better though—he might be able to fool most humans but I am not most humans. Beneath his suave exterior lurks a vicious machine who cares nothing for humanity and considers us to be unworthy of the dust beneath his feet. Myself and all my “beauty” included.

  I smile and nod, hoping that is enough acknowledgement of his compliment. I don’t trust myself to speak.

  We draw nearer to Nic and as we do, I see how stiffly he walks between the guards. He is wearing a handsome black uniform with red and gold accents. Gleaming gold buttons march up his jacket and the stiff, high collar. Though a sword hangs at his waist he makes no move to arm himself. And while his lips stay closed, curved into a benign smile, his eyes practically scream at me. Their fierce intensity startles me, and I drop my guard just as Galen and I pass him.

  It’s a trap, Sera! A trap!

  Galen walks me around the clearing. Mind Elite, dressed in gaudy finery, mingle in the square, but I avoid acknowledging any of their stares. I follow Nic’s lead, and keep a smile on my face. I pretend surprise, happiness, while inside I scour my symbiants and nanos for information.

  Nic is being held against his will—the Mind has applied some tech to restrain him from moving freely, from speaking. He is a puppet on their string.

  He didn’t abandon me, didn’t run. He had been
captured. Tortured—though he tries unsuccessfully to hide the severity from me.

  I don’t know what to make of the information—I want to distrust him, to assume this is another trick. But over and over again, like a virus, I remember our kiss. Remember the red, glowing band that circled his forehead. And now, with access to his memories, I know he saw the same markings on me as well.

  What does it mean? I ask him while a woman with skin as white as her hair takes my hand and kisses my palm.

  It is the Blood Crown, Sera. We need to Bond. Together we are more powerful than them.

  I repress a shiver as the woman’s lips remain overly long on my skin. I don’t feel powerful. I feel exposed.

  I can barely move in the gown. It hangs about me like ropes, tangling around my legs, constricting my breath. And with Galen’s overly-hard grip on my arm I feel as trapped as Nic.

  “Shall we dance?” Galen swings me around, already pulling me to him before I have processed his words.

  “Dance?” I croak from a dry, raspy throat. My mind calls up a definition of dance, but I’ve never participated in such an act, never even seen it done.

  “Live life to the fullest, my dear. For as long as it is yours.” My chest against Galen’s, he clasps my hand in his, while his other wraps tightly around my waist. The music moves into a lilting rhythm just as Galen steps forward. Around us, couples take up their partners and begin to sway and twirl in time. As Galen swings me around I do not see Nic, though I can still feel him.

  My head spins with the lights, colors, voices and a myriad of perfumes swirling all around me. The dance seems to go on forever. All the whispers, the high tittering of the ladies, the too-perfect faces, form a sort of parade through my mind, making it impossible to think of anything but my increasing need to escape.

  My mind needles at what Nic said—about this being a trap—but I can’t make sense of it. He is a prisoner, but I am not. He is held in restraint while I am spun around the dance floor. If the Mind wanted us dead, surely it would have been easier to take care of it while on my ship—not now. Not in plain view.

  When the music finally slows and then stops, I find myself in a completely different part of the atrium. We stand in front of a stage; the sunlight has faded to twilight, with the setting sun directly behind Nic, who stands on the stage with his feet wide and his face a burning brand of hatred

  “Oh, that was fun,” Galen exclaims, tucking my hand around his arm. “Come, darling. It is time.”

  I don’t dare ask what it is time for—by the wild look in Nic’s eyes, it isn’t time for another dance.

  Galen leads me onto the stage, positioning me just out of Nic’s reach.

  Serantha, Nic leans toward me, but I don’t close the distance between us. I am unable to look away from him—from the expression on his face that isn’t hard like before, nor wary like when we kissed. Just . . . For the first time I see doubt or worry cross his handsome features.

  I feel our connection, like a gentle push, like his lips against mine, or our fingers entwined. You haven’t had the training—no, he says when my countenance darkens, a retort already forming in my mind. No, don’t pull away. You haven’t had the training because of what the Mind did to your family, to your Servant. To you. His gaze is imploring, willing me to listen, to understand.

  I know who you are Serantha. And you know who I am. It’s more than programming. You felt it, didn’t you? When we met? When we, his thoughts hitch, his eyes flicker, when we kissed?

  I want to deny him, but I’d be lying, and my traitorous symbiants would give me away. But words still escape me so I nod, barely.

  Galen still paces the edge of the stage, delivering a speech that incites cheers among his Elite. But I can’t listen to him. I am incapable of moving, of stepping out of this bubble with Nic. I need to hear what he’s going to say. I need to feel this connection. For just a second longer.

  I’m doing this all wrong. I just want you to know that you have power—limitless power. You can know as much as the Mind knows. You can be stronger than them. Together we can beat them. Don’t shut me out because I know more than you, Sera. I am not better than you—I can feel that, can’t you? We are equal. Utterly, completely, equal. The only difference between us is that I’ve had training.

  Unbidden, come flashes of memories of all the times I’ve fought with the guards, all the times I protected myself, starved myself, denied myself the association of humans because of my differences—Nic takes these memories into himself and offers me a gem .. . . I am not alone. Not anymore.

  Galen takes a step backward, so he stands between Nic and me. He places a hand on my shoulder, but though I try, I am incapable of jerking away. He gives a sharp nod and a giant screen is revealed on the wall across from the stage.

  When Galen speaks, his voice rings out, amplified, though he holds no device I can see. “My friends. The moment we have waited for, prepared for, these long years is finally upon us. As you can see, the Eden Project has been completed. But it is not what was promised. These humans are not as evolved as we had hoped. But we—we—have reached the pinnacle of our perfection, the moment the child becomes the adult—the created, the creator.”

  The crowd cheers. The women pat their palms in a refined clap while the men stomp their feet or wave feathers in the air. The screen flickers to life.

  On it, I see a man and woman, sitting very near one another, a look of grave concern on their faces. I can’t see Nic, but I feel the way his symbiants tremble at the vision before us.

  “Nicolai!” the woman exclaims—his mother then. They are not looking at us, but rather the scene is being digitally transmitted for our benefit. They are an elegant couple—his father broad and bearded, his mother a tiny thing compared to the mountain of a man beside her. On their foreheads, golden circlets gleam, embedded with rubies. His mother opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it again, turning to her husband. She presses her forehead to his shoulder as if she can’t bear her sorrow.

  “How did he die?” the King asks a Servant who stands with her head bowed, her hands clasped before her in the affectation of humility and grief. Natalya, Nic supplies. His Servant. A traitor.

  “He discovered the West’s Capital—with the Princess Serantha onboard.”

  “Serantha!” the King bellows. “But she died years ago!”

  “It seems it was only a ruse, Your Grace. She refused the Crown, and so Nicolai killed her.”

  “No!” Queen Karenina exclaims. “He would never! They’d practically Bonded!”

  “I—I have evidence, My Lords. If you must?”

  Queen Karenina nods, her throat making a clicking sound when she swallows back her tears.

  “Get on with it,” the King commands.

  Our view picks up the video feed the Servant plays for the King and Queen of the East. It shows my ship, surrounded by rebels, then cuts to a scene inside my control room. Nicolai stands over my body, a bloody dagger in his hand. He raises his arm as the Mind soldiers enter, brandishing his weapon, his mouth twisted into an ugly scream.

  The soldiers open fire. My ears are buzzing. Beyond them, as if from a very far distance, I hear Nic’s mother cry out. But then my own words are tumbling out, fighting for dominance. “This isn’t true! We’re right here! He obviously didn’t kill me.” But no one is listening to me, everyone’s gaze is riveted on the screen where Nicolai’s parents have just received news that not only is their son dead, but he is a traitor, a murderer.

  “We are ruined,” the King whispers at last. And the screen goes blank.

  All eyes turn back to us—the Elite stare with hard gazes full of hatred and victory while the humans around us whisper in confusion to one another.

  “It is just as mankind had hoped,” Galen calls out, effectively ending the conversations in the atrium. “The Blood Crown is complete.”

  He steps back and tugs me toward Nic, placing my hand in his. Nic clasps on tightly, as if it could save his life, as if I
could. I search his eyes, hoping for more understanding, listening to our symbiants as they communicate with one another—and see the band of blood form around his forehead.

  The humans shout in wonder while the androids curse and boo so loudly they drown out the humans' celebration. Soon, the cheers give way to murmurs and cries of grief when they begin to see the truth of this “glorious” event. They aren’t going to be rescued. They are going to be crushed beneath the Mind’s feet.

  “Behold, the hope of humankind!” Galen booms, his voice even larger, even louder, than before. “And now you understand me.” He pushes me away from Nic. Our connection breaks, and I almost totter into the hungry crowd of androids.

  “As you can see, the link between the royal families has reached its fruition—just as our Creator first envisioned more than a thousand years ago. Should Nicolai here and young Serantha ever produce children, they would be true hybrids of humanity and technology—capable of surviving and thriving in space.”

  Galen paces in front of us, along the edge of the stage. I imagine shoving him, pushing him out into the crowd, but he glares at me, as if he can read my mind. Guards step to my side. When they touch my arms, my whole body goes stiff as nanos arrest my freedom.

  “The humans looked forward to this day, to the day a new race would be born.”

  The crowd of Mind Elite parts to allow guards to lead the humans to a platform across the square from us. I see Lily among them, a guard practically dragging her by her arm and flinging her into the line of humans.

  “But a new race has already been born!” Galen continues. “We have been born. We may have been conceived of man, but we are not subject to the limitations flesh—” The androids cheer, interrupting him, and the sound is deafening. Overwhelming. “We are born of our own intelligence. Intelligence begets intelligence while flesh begets weakness. In the New Era, weakness has no place!

  “And so today,” Galen soothes, “we are here to witness the end of the old ways, and welcome in the new. First,” Galen swings toward Nic. He pats Nic’s cheek. Fire burns in Nic’s eyes but he is powerless to respond. “Nicolai, Son of the East. It seems you have already been crowned king, so there is no longer any need for the old regime.”