Blood Crown

by Ali Cross

  The screen bursts to life, bringing Nicolai’s parents into view once more. With swift synchronicity, blades are drawn over their throats and blood spurts onto the camera. I feel Nic’s horror as all the humans cry out and the androids shout with joy.

  “The king is dead. Long live the king!” Galen shouts, grabbing Nic’s hand and forcing it upward.

  He drops it just as quickly when he returns to seducing the crowd. “Of course, there can be no king if there is no kingdom.” He swings his arm in a wide arc and all the walls become screens, each depicting a different ship with the Kingdom of the West’s coat of arms emblazoned on its hull. The ship furthest from us explodes in utter silence. All those lives—gone without even a whisper.

  Many of the humans fall to their knees and cover their faces. The Mind rush them, forcing their faces up, forcing them to watch the destruction of the human race.

  Another ship bursts into silent sparks just like the first.

  Fiery rage burns through me, igniting all my synapses, bringing to life parts of me I only suspected were there. I burst free of my confines at the same moment Nic does and we reach for one another. As soon as our hands touch, the Blood Crowns spring to life and our senses are doubled—quadrupled.

  I can not only feel every one of the Mind Elite in the room, but every single artificial mind on the ship—including the ship itself. Beyond it I feel all the other ship-states, see the pathway of electronic commands that are systematically ordering the ships to self-destruct.

  Our consciousness flies together, following the same connections—and while Nic cancels the kill orders on one ship, I do the same on another. I miss one and a breath later it explodes. My gut wrenches and I fight the urge to vomit. I have a job to do. There is no time for weakness. Nic and I hopscotch across all the ship-states. When I see New Oregon down the line, relief floods my veins. I hadn’t realized how much I feared we’d already lost them until I see the vessel hovering there.

  The screams in the room take on a new tenor, a new sense of urgency. I set my nanos on a course to continue shutting down the kill orders on the fleet, and pull myself away from that quest to address what is happening in the room around me.

  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, for my mind to understand what it is seeing. But when I do, I sway on my feet. Every single human being, lined up against the wall, has a Mind—Elite or soldier—standing beside or behind them. Every single human is in mortal danger. Some have blades pressed to their throats or to their chests. Some have hands poised on their forehead and chin, ready to snap their necks. Death lies in hundreds of hands.

  Just like the ships, starting at the furthest end, the Mind begins to rain death on the humans. I don’t think, then. I act. I scream and rush forward, ripping at the skirts at my waist while I jump off the stage and race toward the captives.

  All I know is that these are people. My people. They might not have understood me, and I might not have understood them—but they are human. They are alive. I think of Minn, Sher, Tam, and Dillon. They showed me kindness. But what if they hadn’t?

  I remember all that my parents taught me. I know what Archibald had hoped for me. Know what my life was supposed to mean to mankind. I think of Lily and how excited and hopeful she had been for Nic and me and our union. How she believed it would bring a new way of life for her. For everyone.

  And it would have. Should have. I understand it all now.

  But the Mind can’t allow it—they can’t allow for anything other than themselves and a human/machine hybrid is too infallible for them. Too imperfect. They’d never tolerate humankind or whatever Nic and I would create. They could never tolerate the possibility that they would be rendered obsolete.

  While I leap over the crowd, I reach for Nic with my mind and find him already seeking for me. I feel the connection between us, as alive as when we touch.

  I accept you, Serantha. His voice carries urgency and expectancy, but I am unsure of what he needs from me or what his words might mean.

  Say it.

  Say what?

  That you accept me!

  Why would I say that? I spin into a kick—taking down two or three Elites who stand too close. I shove andies left and right, forging a path through them, toward the humans.

  Nic’s exasperation weighs on me. For the Bond! he practically shrieks in my mind.

  What? I have no time to contemplate the meaning of his words. I accept you. I don’t know if I accept him at all—I just know that together we are meant to do some good for our people and that’s all I care about at this moment.

  Say it, Serantha! Say, ‘I accept you Nicolai.’

  By the time I get to the soldiers standing between me and the humans, they are ready for me. Weapons protrude from their arms, poised to strike.

  Say it!

  I bring destruction, swift and furious to all the Mind within my reach. I accept you, Nicolai!

  I think they are just words. But they are so much more.

  For a moment I freeze—my hand half-raised in a blow I hope to bring down on the soldier in front of me. He seems to understand what is happening before I do, because he grabs the nearest human and pulls her body in front of his—a shield and a threat. He presses a six-inch blade of titanium from his knuckle against her neck. Lily’s neck.

  Fire races through my body while I am helpless to move. It feels like something foreign has entered my blood stream, bonding with my own tissue and nanos and creating something entirely new. Recreating me.

  As the fire fades from my extremities, I feel it race up my neck, into my face. And that is when I know, when I finally realize what is happening.

  The guard and I stand face to face. His eyes are wide, a wave like surprise, fear and doubt crests within their silver depths. He is as frozen as I, as if time has stopped, everything has just . . . stopped.

  I regain feeling in my arm, and lower it, calmly. Slowly.

  Do you feel it? Nic’s voice holds a note of reverence. I know he stands to my left and slightly behind me. I can place him in the room, understand his physical condition. I know his heart rate is slightly elevated, but not from pain or injury, but from elation. I know because he feels the same way I do.

  I turn slightly so I can see him. On his forehead, the Blood Crown pulses then settles into a deep red pattern on his forehead. We are Bonded. And we are different than we were before. Together we are stronger. Together we can do . . . anything.

  A collective sigh travels down the line of humans and whispers are shared—and not only among our people. Many of the Mind feel doubt—they never believed the Crown would work, and now that it has they are suddenly unsure of what it means for them, for Galen.

  I return my attention to the soldier and Lily. He holds my gaze, the filaments in his eyes sparking. In my peripheral vision I note Elite pushing away from their human captives and sprinting away. I see in the soldier’s eyes that he, too, is about to abandon his post—

  —the light suddenly leaves his eyes and he crumples to the ground.

  Lily stumbles into my arms, but I am turning, watching as androids fall lifeless all around me.

  Not all of them—one quarter, perhaps, maybe less.

  Galen claps, slow and lazy. When I seek his gaze his features are hard, diamond-cut, and his eyes pierce me across the distance. To me he says, “There is no room in the Great Renewing for dissenters and cowards.” So he terminated the androids who doubted him. The ones who saw the Blood Crown as proof that it is we, Nicolai and I, the human race, who are meant for greatness—not them.

  “No matter,” Galen continues. “Let us continue.”

  Behind him, a cluster of soldiers struggle with three prisoners—women from their body shape, though they have bags on their heads and their ratty pants and tops are shapeless. I know he will have chosen them for a reason though. There are precious few people that will elicit any sort of reaction from me. With Lily behind me, and Archibald dead, I know Minn, and probably Sher and Tam are st
anding on that stage.

  The crowd parts, making room for me, but I don’t move. Galen’s mind is as open to me as any of the artificial interfaces rampant on this ship—up to a point. He holds a part of himself locked up tight behind a barrier. But I know he will choose to speak his thoughts, to cling to the vestiges of humanity—a contradiction that amuses him, that he loves to exploit.

  It is easy to read the minds of the individuals gathered—not the humans, of course, as they are far more complex than even the Mind Elite. Galen might fool himself that he has reached a level of evolution beyond humankind but he is still just a string of code, some wires and nanos. He is not human, will never be human. He can never understand what it truly means to be set apart, but to choose not to be alone.

  “I was curious if the Creator would have been right about you,” Galen says. His tone belies his own internal struggle—he is both impressed and annoyed. No doubt he hoped the Creator had failed, that he couldn’t possibly have foreseen how the untested tech would evolve over a century.

  Yet here we are—Nicolai and Serantha, part human, part technology. The best of both worlds.

  “I’m glad we were able to witness this lovely . . . event . . . before we must terminate you. Now we’ll have complete data for future reference.”

  “Why do you even need it?” Nic asks as he slowly approaches Galen. “Once humankind is extinct—an event that is likely to occur imminently—the data will be irrelevant.”

  Galen shrugs casually, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. He looks so elegant, so benign, but I know that inside, his synapses are firing at an alarming speed, calculating every option, organizing and sorting the data into potential eventualities.

  “It’s true. Nevertheless, it will provide interesting study material. Plus,” he pulls a chair to the edge of the stage and sits down, crossing his legs and draping one hand over his knee. “One day we will encounter another organic race, and it might be interesting to see how they fare once merged with our technology. I think it will be rather fun, actually. A brave new world, as they say.”

  Nic’s rage mirrors my own, and I use it to propel my feet forward.

  “I don’t think you’ll have that chance, Servant,” I say. I feel Galen’s anger, then, and I resist a smile. Instead, I press on. “Do you really think we’d let you get that far?”

  Nic and I move in time with one another, our pacing, our thoughts, our every breath an exact echo of the other. I don’t need to worry about not knowing him, about loving him, or anything else—all I need is his download. Because of it I know we are perfect for one another. And perfect for our people. Our Creator made us like gods, like Adam and Eve—our only thought for the people in our care.

  Galen laughs and his inhumanity is painfully obvious. Despite their best efforts the Mind are only second-class humans, after all. I expect to feel his anger, but instead he lets it slip away. Emotions are just accoutrements, anyway. Galen feels nothing at all.

  But his directive is specific—eliminate the human race. Rule the Mind. And then . . .

  “What will you do when you’ve accomplished your goals, Galen?” I ask.

  Galen levels his hard gaze at me. When his lips curve upward in a smirk that will haunt me for my entire life, the sacks over the prisoners’ heads are yanked off. Beneath their ratty hair and tear-stained cheeks I see Sher and her mother and a young woman I don’t recognize.

  I flick my gaze toward Galen and find him still locked onto me, watching me, cataloging my reaction. With my eyes level with his own, the order is silently given: Three blades are drawn across the women’s throats in absolute synchronicity.

  He killed them. Just . . . killed them.

  I am falling. My knees cracking against the slate stones.

  Their blood drains down the fronts of their shirts and trousers, pools at their feet. Then they too are falling, crumpling to the stage like dolls. Empty and worthless.

  Behind me, around me—I’m not sure which—screams change meaning. They were flavored with shock and fear, but now they are far more personal. They are the screams of the dying.

  While I sit, motionless, unable to act, the humans are slaughtered.

  The ship, do you feel it? Nic’s thought cuts through the static in my mind, forcing me to acknowledge a different voice of outrage. The ship.

  It screams in defiance of what the Mind have done. It had been created with the directive to protect its inhabitants—including its human inhabitants.

  I lurch forward, pressing my palms to the stone, bracing myself against the onslaught of information, loss and death and the chorus of thousands of Elite minds shouting with victory. Beneath my hands the stone is no longer stone, but a collection of molecules and code, spreading apart, joining with my hands until it is unclear where my body ends and the ship begins. She is calling to me, demanding my attention, my action.

  I cannot be broken. I am stronger than them.

  My head whips up, my eyes finding Galen’s. He doesn’t yet perceive what is happening inside of me. He sees only the shell, the human woman he despises. My mind is far too complex for him to comprehend.

  I send the command. Galen’s ego will be his undoing.

  It takes a moment, but a millisecond before his destruction Galen’s face registers his confusion, the moment he realizes the game has changed and he cannot comprehend how it can be.

  The ship, with my nanos entwined with its own, changes beneath Galen’s feet. It carries my reach beyond my human capacity and allows me to be there, seeping through the molecules beneath Galen’s feet, climbing into his legs, reaching deep inside to the programming that runs through him.

  I am no longer me, no longer Serantha--human, female, queen.

  I am ship, I am nano, I am Galen, I am metal, microtech, flesh and skin and everything all at once.

  I race toward Galen’s mind, but he holds it beyond my reach. I cannot destroy the essence of him. I turn my efforts toward his physical form, but hard, unyielding hands grip my shoulder and try to pull me back and away from my connection to the ship.

  Serantha! A hundred Elite stand between Nic and me, all moving toward me, converging upon me, all intent on severing my interface with the ship.

  My consciousness is ripped from Galen.

  “Humankind is striving to perfect itself,” Nic calls out. “To learn from the mistakes of the past in order to create a better tomorrow. What will your purpose be? What will drive your programming, then?”

  My hands are ripped away from the ship and I am held, gasping, between two Elite, dozens more pressing against them, my back, my mind. I still have a clear view of Galen and so I see the moment he is freed from the ship and he shoots to his feet, then hurries to hide his reaction with an adjustment to his clothing. “I do not have programming, Rebel. I have a mind—just like you. No,” he paces the stage like a caged cat though he is noticeably less animated than before, “not like you. Because my mind is far superior to yours.”

  I watch him, still breathless, still unable to make a reply. I avoid letting my gaze settle on the bodies that lie in a pool of blood. Minn is not there. Minn is safe, I remind myself. That thought, that hope is what finally brings me clarity.

  “Are you certain you are not simply a program, acting out the will of another?” Nic has reached the stage and he places both hands on the surface. “We possess the same technology that makes your Mind so great—or have you forgotten?”

  “You can’t be serious—what you have is a fraction of what I possess.”

  “We also have the benefits of a human mind.”

  “A human mind!” Galen scoffs and the crowd of androids laugh nervously. “A human mind is a liability, not an asset.”

  “Really?” My voice is weak, and my arms tremble in the grasp of my captors. But the ship is still near, still waiting for my command. It responds immediately, projecting images from its database onto the walls. Images and video play out all around us, showing humankind at its best. Portr
ayals of love and service, kindness and hope. The Mind stare with stony faces and I don’t care enough to read their thoughts.

  “Can you love, Galen?” I wait until his eyes meet mine, until he, in his limitless pride, nods at my captors. They release me and I resist the urge to rub at the bruises they have left behind. In moments they will be gone, anyway. I stride up to the stage and climb the stairs. “Can you serve another with no other purpose but to lift them? Encourage them? Help them?”

  I look out at the Mind Elite. I feel like a queen then, in my ruined gown, my shining hair in Lily’s lovely style. The Crown that blazes beneath my skin—undeniable proof that my life has purpose and meaning and it all hinges on this moment.

  “I don’t have need—”

  I spin on Galen, shutting him off mid-argument and step up very close to him. I can feel Nic’s worry at my proximity, but I know my abilities, know Galen’s too. I know because he is a Servant, like Archibald, that somewhere deep inside of him that programming still exists. He can’t bring himself to directly harm me. He would have to order one of his soldiers to do it, but I will have time to shield against any of their attacks.

  “You have no need for love and service, kindness and care.” I turn to the group. “Of course you don’t have need of those things. Because you’re not human.” A murmur of disagreement and anger rumbles through the crowd.

  I command the ship to play my memories, the ones I have clung to and cherished during my long years in servitude—and the ones that Archibald restored to me.

  I wait while the images on the ship’s walls show Archibald cradling me in his arms when I was a new babe. Tears spring to my eyes when I hear him sing a lullaby and place me gently into my crib.

  Another image shows him teaching me to walk, and the look on his face—pure joy, like any natural parent—speaks volumes to what the Mind are capable of.