The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “So that’s what become if we make it to retirement then,” Wilsin said sarcastically. “Something to look forward to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three. Sins Against Nature.

  “I’ve always believed the key to conquering is not how to win the battles, rather ensuring you keep hold of everything afterwards. Moving troops around? That’s easy. Balancing everything else… That’s the tricky part. You’ve got to have a plan.”

  General Arkadeus Tomorov, former head of the SUAF (Serran United Armed Forces) and later of the Allied Kingdoms Army.

  The twentieth day of Summerpeak.

  This, Wim Carson had to admit, would not be the perfect weapon. It would be flawed for he did not have to hand the proper equipment to build one perfect. Yet as with so much in his life of late, he’d made the best he could with what he had, scavenging from maintenance, the armoury, from general supplies and it had not been easy for always there would be those set on thwarting his path.

  Still, again he had to admit to himself there was a certain tranquillity to be had in putting together these items to create of something so much more. Always remember, the sum of the parts is not equal to the whole. Boil it down to its composite pieces and it loses the mystique. When he looked at the various items on the workbench in front of him, he saw them as they would become, not as they were. He’d worked day and night now, ever since the attack from that girl. The Cavanda. It wasn’t so much the girl herself that worrying him, more everything she represented. Greed. Selfishness. Cruelty. Danger. All those and more, she had the Kjarn to back her up, wielding it with more lethality than any other weapon. She wasn’t the finished article. Somebody had to have trained her. The Cavanda were a ruthless organisation, they prized power and ambition above all else. More than that, he wasn’t convinced that she’d died.

  He’d been lucky when she’d barged into the office. He’d been unarmed, she’d been more interested in fleeing. Had she wanted to kill him, it wouldn’t have been impossible. Her master, whoever he may be, wouldn’t have made that mistake. The circumstances had been perfect for her, for his strength with the Kjarn was only now returning to him, mind aching as he sought to rebuild atrophied muscles. He would get back to where he was. It was just a matter of time. Even if Madam Coppinger sought to hurry him along, he would not move to her timetable. Some things all the credits in the five kingdoms couldn’t speed up.

  His thoughts moved to her as he toyed with the steel casing, connecting the crystal to the section housing the emitter muzzle, soldering the circuits. He could have done with a specialist crystal for the job but for now, a charged container crystal would have to do. It wouldn’t last long, he knew as he held it in his hand and squeezed, let the energies from his own body transfer into the small gem. When he felt the humming resonance of the Kjarn bubbling from it, he halted. These things could be delicate when overwhelmed. They were supposed to be unbreakable.

  He disagreed. Nothing was so strong that under the right circumstances it couldn’t be shattered. Delicately he slipped the crystal into the cushioned housing, telekinetically shifting it until he was satisfied it was locked. He’d need to keep a track on this until he could acquire a more permanent solution. If it exploded while in the weapon, he’d lose his hand at the very least.

  Somehow, he doubted he’d be as fortunate to get the same quality medical treatment from his hosts under a second affliction. He knew what they were. That Rocastle fellow was like cancer, malignantly looming in the Kjarn like something unspeakable, a spectre of hate and rage while Domis’ had no presence beyond a trace, barely comparable with his hulking presence in life. Doctor Hota who’d made him whole again had been a shade wracked with guilt, a man who’d once wanted to help people twisted into doing work he wasn’t entirely satisfied with. Wim had looked deeper and seen the remnants of his dreams, found it sad.

  And Madam Coppinger was another matter entirely. Considering her psyche had been an interesting experience. No doubt. No regret. No questions. Just iron conviction she was going about the right course of action. She genuinely sought to make the five kingdoms a better place. Her meetings with all those criminals spoke volumes about her ambitions. To take the lowest of society, those who thrived on the suffering of others and turn them to the cause of making everything better was an interesting idea, one he didn’t know if it was genius or lunacy. Maybe they were two sides of the same credit where she was concerned. He could remember their first discussion, the first true one they’d shared since he’d awoken in that hospital bed.

  They’d given him clothes, smartly casual but no robes. Still it had been better than the rags his old clothes had become on the streets. In a way, he didn’t resent that time. It had given him focus. Time to think about what needed to be do. He knew only death was permanent and the Kjarn wills as the Kjarn does. In time, opportunity would arise for him to retain what had been lost. He’d never forgotten, only waited in knowledge his time would come again.

  The first thing he’d noticed about Madam Coppinger as he’d followed her through the corridors was she didn’t feel evil. Of course, evil was a very subjective term. It was probably the wrong thing to think but seeking what she wanted were not the actions of a benevolent person. Or even someone in their right mind. Nobody would think what she had planned could end anything but badly. She wasn’t just playing with fire; she was sinning against nature. A thought that had gestated the more she’d shown to him as they’d moved through what she’d affectionately described as her Eye.

  He hadn’t gotten the comment at the time, at least not until they’d arrived at the top deck, her office. Domis waiting for them, silently imposing in the background but constantly on the balls of his feet as if expecting attack. Beyond the windows, he could see the sky and the clouds, level with them. She moved to her desk and sat down.

  “Mister Carson…” He fought the urge to correct her with the Master title. He wasn’t worthy right now. The time would come again, but it was some ways away yet. “We are here because I have chosen to trust you. I have made an investment in you, I expect you to honour our arrangement. If you don’t, I’ll be most upset. You’re an interesting figure to have around and I do not wish that to change.”

  “Our arrangement will be honoured,” Wim said. Privately he was amused. There was no need for the threat. He drummed his fingers on the desk, felt the rush of static burst through them and she withdrew her hands as if stung. A harsh curse slipped her lips and he might have heard a yelp, Domis reacting immediately, grabbing Wim up by his throat in one swift hand. “I do not intend for that to… change!” He managed to gasp through the great paw threatening to crush his larynx. He didn’t react. Now, it was only that. A threat. She nodded her head and Domis put him down. “If I wanted to get out of it, I could kill you and he wouldn’t be able to stop me in time. Just consider that.” He grinned at the great figure still looming above him.

  “You wouldn’t survive it.”

  “Madam,” he said with a great deal of patience in his voice. “Do not assume to tell me what I would or wouldn’t survive. I believe the reality may surprise you. I do not wish to be your enemy. You want to rearrange everything about this world that makes it what it is. I want to retire to a small corner of it, my own choosing, with several individuals with whom I might recreate what once was. You want what I can give you. You believe it will validate what you try to do…”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Far from it. I don’t care about validation. When enough force brings a boot to the neck, you don’t care whether the person standing on you is right or not. I want the power.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” he said. “Because power is a fire that consumes, a thirst that cannot be quenched. Power for the sake of power is like playing with a bomb. It does not care who is caught up in its explosion.”

  “I do not wish to debate philosophy with you. I have my reasons.”

  “And I would cling to those reasons if I were you. I will help you regardless, just don’t e
xpect me to be stood anywhere near you when it backfires. Think about why you want the power. What you intend to do with it. And think about all the people who are going to be affected by what you wreak on the five kingdoms.”

  Wim studied her impassive face, not sure if he was getting through. “Because this is bigger than you or me. It is going to have serious ramifications on everyone. Once you start on this path, it will consume you. You can’t truly prepare for it; you can only hope there is still a part of you left after it.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to get out of the deal.” Her expression didn’t change, and he felt a stab of annoyance.

  “Did I not just say I wouldn’t? I just feel the need to inform you of what you’re getting into. A duty of care, if you would. It’d be reckless of me not to.” He sighed. “But if you’ve got your heart set on it, then consider what I’ve said. I do know quite a bit about this stuff, you know. You should at least acknowledge that.”

  “I already know what I’m getting into,” she said simply. Wim Carson knew then his words had been wasted and he felt sorrow for the time he’d spent bringing them to voice. “I know what is going to happen, I am prepared. This change is going to happen with or without your help.” She pushed a button on her desk, he felt her wince with pain as she did it with her burned fingers. The desktop slid back to reveal a portable projector, Wim folded his arms and stared as it came to life. Domis had retreated to a safe distance, apparently satisfied that the threat to his Mistress was no longer present.

  In front of him, the orb materialised, intricately detailed and present with dozens of technical details, only some of which he could understand. More details flashed into existence, a pair of U-Shaped extensions connected to the orb on either side. Some of the technical details, he understood. Dragon grade armour plating. Quantum-based shields. Two thousand solar panels covering the orb. Five hundred-plus on-board air defence hyper lasers. Hangars, laboratories, medical facilities… His mind raced at what this might mean if it was made an actuality. This was, for all intents and purposes, a war machine.

  “This is where we currently stand,” she said, and his heart did a somersault. “The Cloud Conqueror. The Eye of Claudia. It has many names but for those who would oppose me, it needs only one. Death. Come, walk with me and then doubt that I have prepared for this.”

  The labs were the first place they’d gone, sterile white rooms with dozens of masked men and women working away across many different positions, all with the intent of focusing on a great number of transparent tanks towards the back of the room, each filled with liquid.

  “My Divines!” Wim exclaimed. “Fury of the Kjarn!” He didn’t use that expression lightly as he took a closer look at the figures in the tanks. She followed him, he could feel the smug satisfaction radiating from her. Some of the figures were at different stages, some little more than infants. Some were entering puberty, both male and female, while some were just about approaching adulthood, various nodes attached to their bodies through intravenous drips. Each wore strange helmets on their heads that covered everything above their eyes. Each chamber had a readout, he paid no attention to it and instead stared into them, not with his eyes but with the Kjarn. They didn’t register any sort of individual reading, rather a great overlapping sense like a bubble. Not one individual but many identical figures, an echo reverberating through the Kjarn.

  “Impressed, no?”

  “This is an abomination,” he said. He couldn’t hide his disgust. “Clones?”

  “Yes. It’s hard to put together an army loyal to you. They’re bred for one purpose. To die for me. The criminals have their uses; they will be loyal to a point but I’m not stupid enough to think they’d betray their own should the need arise. Each has their own designate. Each for a sole purpose. Quick to breed, there’s a training program, that’s what the helmets are. They’ve already been tested, I sent some down to the Quin-C a few weeks ago to assist with Doctor Blut. Unfortunately, they were killed in action. There have been too many wiped out already between Unisco and that little bitch we had down below. She managed to slay twenty-two of them on her own across two encounters.”

  “Yes well,” Wim said. He didn’t want to be reminded of the girl. “You should have informed me about her. If you had, she might still be in custody.”

  “I was only vaguely aware of it myself,” she said. “I blame Rocastle for that. And he lost his fingers as punishment.”

  “A bit draconian from you,” Wim said. He didn’t have to turn to know a smile had flit across her face.

  “Unfortunately, he engaged the girl and she crippled him in exchange for keeping her captivity. I like that sort of malevolence. Shame she died. We might have been able to make use of her.”

  He didn’t bother to correct her with the assumption she might not be dead nor the lunatic idea of trying to recruit her. If he had the right reading of her, she wouldn’t be interested in supposition or theories she couldn’t possibly understand. There was a lot of things she didn’t understand, a child playing with a loaded blaster.

  “I’m trying to win a war, Mister Carson. I can’t afford to be ethical,” she said. “I suppose you don’t like this. But it’s necessary. Is it not better that a thousand clones die rather than actual people?”

  “And at what point do the clones not become natural people?” Wim asked quietly. “Are they not alive?”

  “There’s nothing natural about them,” she said.

  “Well I think we’ll agree on that,” he said, glancing towards a different chamber over the far side of the lab. “And what’s that?”

  “Just a different experiment,” she said nonchalantly. “An experiment to create a different kind of warrior to the clones. One who isn’t expendable, if you like.”

  He had to go and look, wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he hadn’t. He’d managed to get himself involved in something here which, had he known the details beforehand, wouldn’t have been his choice to. Yet for better or worse, he’d made a deal. Nobody could ever say he didn’t honour his promises. He had that. It was about all he had left of his old life, it felt sometimes.

  A woman lay in the chamber, motionless, eyes closed and barely breathing. She was naked, and he got the impression she had once been quite lovely before the prominent black scarring marking most of her skin. He’d never seen a more wretched woman in all his life, he sensed naught but pain from her.

  “She should heal sooner or later,” Madam Coppinger said, following him over to the tube. The unconscious woman wore a device across her upper body, it looked lightweight and metallic, but it was strapped around her neck, under her arms and around her stomach, all leading into a metal plate grafted across her left breast. “And then things will get truly interesting.”

  “Who was she?”

  “A spirit dancer. Now she’s irrelevant. She no longer has a name. Just the urge to obey.” He didn’t like the smile he saw on his new associate’s face. It lacked humanity, he fought the urge to turn and walk out. “I don’t think they’re looking for her any longer. When we’re sure, we’ll set her loose on our enemies. A day they will rue.” She let out a small chuckle as she said it.

  Beyond the lab there was what could only be described as some sort of obstacle course, many of the clones running it, training, testing themselves. He could hear and smell blaster fire, realised there had to be a range nearby, even if he couldn’t see it. The two of them stood high above it all, surveying her twisted kingdom. He wondered idly if her ego had ensured the design had been deliberate, to make them look like ants far below them. It wouldn’t surprise him.

  “Of course, the knowing how to do it is useful but I’ve always found practice makes things that bit better,” she said nonchalantly. “Every clone has a purpose; I don’t intend to waste them. We have facilities here; we have more throughout the five kingdoms. Soldiers, spies, saboteurs, pilots, scientists all of them come out of these machines, all armed with the knowledge they’ll need to complete
their mission.”

  “Scientists… You have clones creating more clones? At what point does that become perverse?” She ignored him, instead continuing to stare at the obstacle course. When Wim Carson had been a boy, he’d been to a zoo and seen the monkeys in their enclosure. All this reminded him of that on a grander scale.

  “I’m trying to win a war,” she said. “And I’m trying to do it as bloodlessly as possible, Mister Carson. I have waited years for this. It’s almost upon us. I just need what you promised to get me.”

  It was his turn to say nothing. He felt her eyes bore into him and he ignored it, resting his elbows on the railing. Far below, one of the ropes lifted lazily as if caught in a breeze. He didn’t consider it a casual waste of his power. Rather an extension of his mission to reclaim what he had lost. It hovered listlessly in the air for moments and then dropped again, his interest lost. He was certain he’d need something bigger than a rope to test his limits. Something for later, perhaps. Wim stood and turned to face her.

  “And I will,” he said. “When the time is right. Stop trying to force the issue on this for it grows tiresome not just for me but I can’t imagine you enjoy hearing the same thing repeatedly.”

  “My patience does have its limits; I warn you on that.”

  “Then I suggest you don’t strain them unnecessarily.” They stared at each other like two feral cats daring the other to make the first move. He wasn’t intimidated. She seemed to be under the illusion he was. His expression didn’t change, just kept a dead eyed stare at her that would have done a lizard proud. Eventually she gave, and he felt a faint tickle of satisfaction flood him.

  “Come,” she said, any hint of warmth in her voice lost.

  The next room they went was even bigger, the size of an aircraft hangar filled with cages from wall to wall, he ran a quick count and appraised that maybe there were twenty, each huge and heavily reinforced. He could see the energy fields generated around them. Whatever was in there, they didn’t want them getting out.