Alliance

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  That is when the leather straps from before wrap around my legs and pull. Taken by surprise, I fall to the floor as the straps try to drag me back to my original position, but I am not stunned by this fall. Instead, I twist my head over my shoulder to gain a better understanding of what is happening.

  The leather straps that I split earlier are much longer now than they once were. They move like snakes, wrapped so tightly around my legs that I do not see any way I can force them off.

  My logical mind wonders how this is even possible. I did not detect any skyras energy channeling through them earlier. This is clearly an example of Delanian magic at work, however, which makes me wonder how I missed it. Maybe Delanian magic is far subtler than I can detect with my sensors.

  In any case, I do not intend to be held down again. I fire another set of lasers at the straps, cutting through them again. Now that my legs are free again, I stand up and back up toward the door, while the straps hover toward me again. I see no reason why they should, as I have already cut them down to size twice. Analysis suggests that Delanian magic is responsible for their increasing length, although that does not explain exactly how it works. Perhaps the extra length is hidden under the floor

  In any case, it does not matter how it works, because the straps are coming at me and do not seem likely to give up anytime soon. Considering how ineffective my lasers have proven against them, I conclude that the only way out of this situation is to escape from this room.

  I turn around and reach for the doorknob, but before I can grab it, the door opens and I find myself face-to-face with a Delanian human who I do not recognize. He is a bulky human, with five skyras rings on his fingers. He looks like the sort of human who does well as a guard.

  “What?” says the man, who has a deep voice. “What's going on in here? How did you escape the—”

  I do not wait for him to finish. Instead, I punch him in the gut, which causes him to gasp in pain, and follow it up by jolting him with electricity. The electric jolt causes him to collapse to the floor, allowing me to jump over him as the straps continue to reach for me.

  Landing on the floor, I turn around and fire my eye lasers at the straps again. The lasers cut through the straps and cause them to shrink back, perhaps afraid, although I do not know because I kick the unconscious man into the room and slam the door closed behind him afterward. I hear the straps beating against the door, but it is clear that they are not strong enough to break it down and are therefore not going to be a threat to me anytime soon.

  Shaking my head, I look around at my surroundings. It appears I am standing inside the hallway of a castle. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all cobblestone and sensors indicate that they are normally very cold. Sensors also show that the hallway is warmed by some kind of external heat source, but I am unable to locate it. It is probably magic, but at the moment I do not need to confirm that. Instead, I need to find out where I am and how to get out of here and reconnect with the Database.

  Just as I come to that decision, a voice shouts, “Hey, what are you doing out here? You're not supposed to be out!”

  I look in the direction of that voice and see two elves running toward me. Neither of them have skyras rings, but they are holding staffs and swords. Old-fashioned weaponry, in other words, that will be completely ineffective against my abilities.

  I raise my hand to unleash finger lightning bolts at the elves, but one of the elves vanishes before I can do so. My scanners search the hall for the missing elf, but I cannot find him anywhere, although his friend is still running at me and is almost within range of hitting me with his weapon.

  So I fire my finger lightning bolts, but the elf jumps over them and lands in front of me. He swings his staff at my head, which I catch with no issue.

  “That was a pathetic move on your part,” I say, holding back his staff with ease. “I can sense that you are trying your best, but I am afraid your best is not enough.”

  Oddly, the elf smirks. “Get 'im, Garga!”

  I have no idea who 'Garga' is until I hear something whistling through the air at me.

  Before I can identify the source of that whistling, something thick and solid slams into the left side of my head. The blow—while not painful, as I cannot feel pain—completely disrupts my sensors and sends me staggering to the left, letting go of the first elf's staff as I do so.

  WARNING! Damage to optics extensive. Activating auto-repair features.

  I shake my head, however, because I have no time to let my auto-repair features work. These two elves require my fullest attention, so I must put deactivate the auto-repair features until I can find a more convenient time to use them.

  Besides, my optics appear to be working fine because I can see the two elves surrounding me, holding their staffs before them like they intend to beat me to a pulp with them. Still, my vision is not entirely clear; my left optic is choppy, forcing me to rely on my right optic more than I usually do.

  “Stupid machine,” says the first elf. “We saw you assault the guard. We're not going to let you walk without first getting permission from the Head, which we know you don't have, so don't even pretend that you do.”

  “I never would have pretended,” I say. “After all, we J bots are incapable of lying or deception. All I want to know is where I am and how to get out of here.”

  “Not until the Head says so,” says the second elf, the one named Garga, who has a higher voice than his friend. “Until then, you have to stay where you're supposed to: In that little room, strapped like a rat.”

  These two elves clearly believe they can defeat me, but they just as clearly do not know the full extent of my powers and abilities. They may be able to dodge my finger lightning bolts, but finger lightning bolts are not the only tricks up my sleeve.

  I tap my chest, causing an electrical barrier to extend three feet from my body. The barrier strikes the two elves and knocks them out immediately. They fall to the floor, their staffs clattering by their sides, and as soon as they do, I deactivate my electrical barrier. The two elves' bodies smoke slightly from being burnt by my electricity, but scanners indicate that they are still alive, albeit unlikely to awake anytime soon.

  But even though they are both out cold, that does not solve my problem, because I still do not know where I am. I doubt, however, I will get much of an opportunity to find out, because if these two know I am here, then it is highly likely that the rest of the Foundation knows of my escape as well.

  Which way should I go? I do not know because I do not have any information or even a map on the general layout of this place. Nor can I rely on satellites in orbit to provide me with any information, because Dela does not have any artificial satellites, much less artificial satellites connected to the Database.

  Standard protocol for J bots in this type of situation is to head in the direction of Xeeon, where the Database is kept. Unfortunately, I cannot even follow standard protocol in this situation because of the lack of connection to the Database on Dela, which does not even exist here.

  What I need is information, and quickly. These two elves, obviously agents of the Foundation, will likely be able to tell me what I need to know, but I must interrogate them quickly, because I do not know how long I have until other Foundation agents come by to check up on me.

  I kneel over the elf known as Garga. His eyes are rolled into the back of his head, but I slap him across the face in an effort to awaken him quickly.

  It works, because Garga shakes his head and says, “What the—” before I put a hand over his mouth and tighten my grip.

  “Do not try to scream,” I say, keeping my audio level low to avoid awaking his ally, while also pinning Garga to the floor with my knee. “Or teleport. I only want information on this place. Is that understandable?”

  Garga glares at me, which tells me that I need to be more explicit in my request.

  “Listen here,” I say, leaning a little closer in, an intimidation technique I learned over my years of int
errogating captured criminals. “If you do not answer my questions about the Foundation, I will do far worse to you than simply electrocute you. Do you understand?”

  He keeps glaring at me, but he does nod slightly. I notice him reaching for his staff, so I fire my lasers at his staff before he can so much as touch it. The laser knocks his staff out of his reach, causing him to curse, although his curse is unintelligible due to my hand covering his mouth.

  “I suggest you do not try and attack me while I am not looking,” I say. “Because that will end quite badly for you, I promise.”

  Garga still does not look happy, but he has no more weapons to reach for, so I say, “Now, will you cooperate or will you not?”

  My facial recognition technology says that Garga looks like he would rather kill himself than cooperate with me, but then he nods again. I take my hand off his mouth, but rest it on his throat to keep him pinned so he does not think he can escape.

  “Dumb machine,” Garga spits at me; quite literally, he spits saliva at me, although I do not care. “Stupid robot. Idiotic clicker.”

  “I did not ask for you to insult me,” I say, “as that is not a good method of cooperation. Instead, I would like to know the location of the nearest exit, as well as the location of the building itself.”

  “Can't tell you any of that,” Garga says. “The Head doesn't want you knowing anything she hasn't approved of you to know.”

  “I do not care,” I say. I tighten my grip around his neck; not enough to choke him, but enough to make him think twice about refusing to tell me what I need to know. “All I wish to know is where I am and how to get out of here. Hardly what I call an unreasonable demand.”

  “Doesn't matter if your demand is 'unreasonable' or not,” says Garga. “What matters is that the Head says you aren't allowed to know, so you aren't allowed to—”

  I slap him across the face again. “I do not care. How many times must I say that before you understand it? Must I speak in Elvish Delan before you will understand what I want?”

  A trickle of blood appears from the corner of Garga's mouth. I have no intention of beating him senseless, but as a J bot, I am authorized to use force during interrogations in order to gain the intelligence I need. It is sometimes the only way to learn what I need to know, especially in situations like this.

  “Perhaps I should make it simpler for you,” I say. “Instead of telling me where this place is located, why don't you simply point me in the direction of the nearest exit?”

  I fully expect Garga to insult me again, which would require me to become far less gentle and merciful in order to get what I need.

  Instead, Garga raises a hand and points a shaky finger to the left end of the hallway. He doesn't meet my eyes as he says, “Just go down that way. You'll find stairs going up to the next floor. Keep following the stairs, and you'll eventually find the exit.”

  Garga appears to be telling the truth, so I say, “All right. Thank you for your cooperation, Garga. This will be very helpful in my escape. But unfortunately for you, I will have to knock you out for now. Don't worry; it will only be a little while, I promise.”

  I slap Garga again, this time with far more effort than before. The blow knocks him out and I stand up. His friend has not moved a muscle since I knocked him out as well, which is good because that is one less obstacle I will have to deal with on my way out of this place.

  I run toward the left end of the hallway, which appears to be a heavy stone door, although where it leads to I do not know. My guess is that it will open up to a staircase that will lead me upward, as all clues support the theory that I am somewhere underground. It is the only reason why this hallway and the room I was in earlier do not have any windows, although they do have ventilation systems that likely funnel air into these areas to make them breathable to the organic Foundation members who work down here.

  When I reach the door, I push it open and enter. I expect to find myself in a narrow stairwell, but instead, I stumble into another room, this one much wider and open than the one I had been kept in like a prisoner.

  Like the hallway, this room has cobblestone walls and floors, as well as a ceiling made out of that same material. Glowing candles hang from the ceiling, which appear to be the only sources of light in this room, shining as brightly as the indoor lights of most Xeeonite buildings.

  These candles show me a dozen beings—probably Foundation agents, although due to their lack of identification I do not know for certain—sitting around a table talking amongst themselves. On the table itself are maps, skyras rings, and pictures, which tells me that these agents are probably discussing Foundation plans, whatever those are.

  But if that is what they are talking about, they are no longer doing so, because now every eye in the room is on me. Many of them look at me in surprise, as if they had not expected me to enter, but none of them move to get up and try to grab me.

  I turn to leave, but when I try to pull open the door, I find that it refuses to budge. That is odd, because I opened it just fine before. Brief analysis shows no reason for this, except that this door appears to have been locked by skyras, although the traces of skyras on the door are very faint and barely noticeable.

  Whatever the reason for this mystery, it is not good. That means that I am now locked in this room with these beings who may wish to harm me.

  “J997?” says a voice behind me, one I recall from earlier, as it sounds exactly like the voice of the man who had repaired me. “What are you doing up? How did you get out of your room? Why didn't the guard stop you?”

  I turn around to face the Foundation agents again. They are all still seated, but I can tell they are willing to stand up and catch me if necessary. A cursory scan of the room shows that there are no other exits or entrances here, which means that I cannot escape unless I find out how to break down this door behind me, which seems unlikely to happen.

  Instead, I focus on the source of the voice, which my scanners indicate came from the man sitting on the far side of the table away from me. He is indeed the same man from before, because I recognize his scarred face and tall, thin body. He is wearing a simple, practical white coat, even though the room is warm enough to make a coat unnecessary.

  As for the others, I recognize none of them except for Rozan—who looks similar to how he did before, only now without the robes. He instead is wearing a dwarfish leather jacket, while next to him sits Nacina, who looks exactly the same as I remember her. Scanners indicate that Rozan is still as angry as ever, as well as slightly confused, most likely by my presence. I do not see Palos, which makes me wonder where she is, although that is unimportant at the moment.

  Seeing as I have nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, I simply say, “To answer your question, I escaped from the room you put me in by taking out the guards you set up to keep me in there. And, while I know you did not ask, the only reason I came in here is because one of those guards told me this would take me out of the building. It appears that that guard lied to me.”

  “Was it Garga?” says Rozan with a scowl. “I bet it was Garga.”

  “Yes, it was,” I say. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because that is exactly the sort of thing Garga would do,” says Rozan. He gestures at the door behind me. “Dump his responsibility onto us, rather than do his freaking job. What an idiot.”

  “I wouldn't say it turned out badly this time, however,” says Nacina. She gestures at me. “After all, thanks to Garga's deception, we have now ensured that J997 will not escape.”

  I agree with Nacina. Looking back, it is obvious that Garga fooled me. I should have thought more deeply about how readily he 'helped' me. I should have interrogated him better, been more skeptical, but it does not matter anymore. I am stuck here, alone against a dozen of these Foundation agents, with the only possible escape route locked behind me.

  My sensors do show, however, that there is a high concentration of skyras energy in this room. Most of the skyras energy appears to
be radiating from a lone individual sitting at the table. I identify her as a witch, because she has the skyras rings that all Delanian witches do, although I do not know what magic she may be capable of.

  “Are you going to apprehend me?” I ask the room at large, addressing no one in particular, because I do not know who is in charge. “Or are you going to destroy me? Either way, expect to face resistance from me.”

  I fully expect the Foundation agents to stand up and take me down. And my calculations state that they can defeat me easily, even though I know nothing about any of their abilities. Just the witch alone, who has more skyras energy than everyone else in this room, can defeat me without even trying. Still, my programming compels me to resist even in these situations, where logic dictates that I cannot win no matter how hard I fight.

  Then the Foundation agents do something completely unexpected: They laugh.

  Every one of them laughs. Rozan slams his fist against the table, laughing so hard he appears to have completely lost control over his laughter, while Nacina chuckles beside him. The powerful witch I noticed before is laughing a wild, wicked laugh that is at odds with her appearance, while the man who repaired me is laughing so hard he is slumped back in his chair, seemingly unable to stop even to breathe. The others also laugh as hard as their friends, which makes me wonder what I said that is so funny. After all, I did not tell a joke, so what do they find so humorous about what I just said?

  I consult Secrets of Humor, which I have stored on the mobile Database, for answers, but I see nothing in the book about an audience spontaneously bursting into laughter after you make a very serious pronouncement. Maybe I had unintentionally told a Delanian joke? I know nothing about Delanian humor, after all, so it is possible I may have stumbled upon some obscure Delanian joke that I know nothing about.