by Justin Sloan
When they’d been walking for about five minutes Bob caught Kalan’s eye and gestured wildly at the cyborg Grayhewn, then back at Kalan. Kalan had no idea what the human meant, so he ignored it.
For Kalan’s part, he spent most of the walk reeling. Here he was meeting his first Grayhewn outside his immediate family, and the guy was half-robot. Not only that, he lived in a damn junkyard on the moon. He’d been focused on the goal of finding this male for so long that he didn’t know what to do now that he’d found him. He was like the proverbial yanecat who caught the delivery shuttle.
There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to ask.
But it was Willom who ended up asking the first question.
“How’s your father, Kalan?”
The question took Kalan aback. “I… I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since I was four.”
Willom let out a surprised whistle. “Damn, then I guess I’ve seen him more recently than you have. He came to see me shortly after he got out of SEDE. I even offered him a job working for Talrok and me, but he wasn’t interested—too obsessed with uniting the Grayhewn species or some such bullshit.”
That gave Kalan pause. His father had been out of touch for a long time. Kalan had assumed he was either dead, or so disinterested in his own child that he wasn’t worth knowing. Kalan had decided that carrying on his father’s work was the closest he’d ever get to knowing the male, and yet here he was with a Grayhewn who had possibly been friends with him.
“Do you know where my father is?” he asked. He hated how hesitant his voice sounded asking the question.
Willom shrugged. “Hell if I know. Could be searching for Grayhewns in other systems, or maybe he found a few and set up a colony somewhere. Maybe he ran off with the Lost Fleet! Your guess is as good as mine. Ah, here we are.”
They rounded a pile of junk and came upon a structure that appeared to have been made from discarded scraps. It wasn’t large, but Kalan supposed Willom didn’t need it to be. He lived alone, after all.
“This is me,” Willom said, pulling open the door. He gestured for them to go inside.
Wearl’s high-pitched voice came from near the door. “Willom, can I ask you a question?”
The cyborg Grayhewn gave no indication he’d heard the voice.
Good. As much Kalan wanted to believe Willom could be trusted, it never hurt to be careful—especially when dealing with moon hermits.
The crew went inside and Willom followed, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Sorry there aren’t more places to sit,” the cyborg said. “This place wasn’t designed for company.”
The home was a large single room with a bed in one corner and a small kitchen in the other. The only area with any privacy was the toilet, which had a half-wall separating it from the bed. Kalan supposed that even when you lived alone, you didn’t want to wake up looking at the toilet.
Willom turned to Daschle. “So tell me, did Talrok send you or are you here on your own business?”
The Skulla met the Grayhewn’s gaze. “Neither.” He nodded toward Kalan. “He wanted to see you.”
“Huh,” Willom grunted. “And if someone wants to see me you just shuttle them over? That wasn’t our arrangement.”
“Of course not,” the Skulla snapped. “Outpost Alpha was attacked, and they helped us. Without them, we might have been destroyed. This is their price for helping.”
“Find another form of payment next time.” He turned to Kalan. “Why’d you want to see me?”
This was it, the moment where Kalan had to make his case. He swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in his throat, and got to it. “I’ve never met any Grayhewns other than my mother and father.”
Willom raised an eyebrow. “So you’re…what? Lonely?”
“No, it’s a bit more than that.”
A slow smile crept across Willom’s face. “Holy hell, you’re trying to carry on your father’s work, aren’t you? You want to gather the Grayhewns.”
“I want to find them, yes. To protect them. My father’s notes say there’s this Pallicon cult hunting our kind.”
Willom chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story too. Never seen them, though. In fact, I ain’t ever laid eyes on a Pallicon up here.” He glanced at Jilla. “Present company excluded.”
“Kalan.” It was Wearl whispering in his ear. “Keep him talking. I’m going to look around and make sure everything’s on the up and up.”
Kalan didn’t react to his Shimmer friend. Instead, he addressed Willom. “I get it. You’re safe up here, or at least you think you are. But what about our kin who aren’t? You think it’s a weird coincidence our kind is so rare?”
The cyborg shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I spent a lot of years trying to do the right thing, and look where it got me.” He gestured at his metal legs.
“What happened?” Bob asked. “Did you fall into an engine or something?”
Kalan shot him a look.
Bob looked offended. “What? He brought it up.”
“It’s fine.” Willom turned to Daschle. “How much do you know?”
Daschle shook his head. “Not much. I didn’t know you were…um…augmented.”
Willom barked out a hearty laugh. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. I guess your boss really is keeping you in the dark.” He paused a moment, as if trying to decide where to begin. “Talrok and I had been working up here for nearly a decade, secretly helping the Bandian push the limits of what was possible with robotics. Once he started experimenting on living creatures, turning them into cyborg monstrosities, we started to doubt we were working on the side of the good guys. It was Talrok who convinced me we need to fight him.”
“I take it the fight didn’t go smoothly,” Kalan said.
“At first it did. We had the advantage, and the Bandian had just mounted his coup against Sslake. He was spread thin, and I still believe we could have pushed him off this moon if we’d stayed on target.”
“What happened?” Kalan asked.
Willom shook his head, a hollow look in his eyes. “I still ask myself that all the time. One day Talrok and I were closer than we’d ever been to taking out the Bandian’s space station and the next thing I knew, mechs broke into Outpost Bravo, where a small team and I had set up, and they killed the team and took me captive. I’ll never understand how they even knew we were there, let alone how they got inside without tripping our alarms. The only explanation I can think of is that there was a traitor among us. Someone had given the Bandian’s forces the security codes.”
“Damn,” Bob exclaimed.
Silence hung over the room for nearly a minute, then Jilla spoke.
“That must have been shortly before I met Talrok. He was down on Tol secretly recruiting, and we bumped into each other. As far as pickup lines go, ‘I have a secret moon base where I fight evil robots’ isn’t half-bad. At least, it worked on me.”
Willom chuckled. “I wish I’d thought to try it when I had the chance. As it was, I spent the next year in the clutches of the enemy. I learned quickly that we hadn’t been fighting the Bandian at all, not really. The forces we’d been fighting were controlled by Aranaught, the burgeoning AI that had recently come online and was slowly taking control of the Bandian’s entire space station. There were dozens of us, creatures of all species, and the AI experimented on us, replacing what it saw as the inefficiencies of our biological parts with robotic replacements. Every day was some new form of hell, some fresh experiment in how we could be “upgraded” to her specifications.”
Kalan didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have your body slowly stripped away and replaced with machines.
“He did try to get you back, you know,” Daschle interjected. “I’ve been through the records of that time. He nearly exhausted his resources searching for you. He never found out what had happened, and once you reestablished contact you weren’t forthcoming with information.”
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“What would have been the point?” Willom asked. “The damage had already been done.”
“How’d you escape Aranaught?” Kalan wondered.
“Honestly, I got lucky. As the AI became more powerful, it grew less interested in us. Most of the cyborg creations had been killed in battles against Talrok, and I was one of the remaining few. They mostly left me alone when they weren’t forcing me to fight. They actually allowed me to spend time tinkering in the lab. Aranaught had infested most of the tech by that point, myself included, but I was able to resist. That was when I made my big discovery. I found a way to temporarily shield myself from her, and once I was able to stop her from controlling my cybernetic parts I was able to escape.”
“And then you contacted us,” Daschle said.
“Yes. Talrok wanted me to rejoin the fight, but I wasn’t interested. I wanted to be left alone, so I traded a basic version of my shield to Talrok in exchange for the equipment needed to build this place and create a bigger shield, one that would protect my home and everything in it from Aranaught’s influence.”
Kalan was listening to the story with rapt attention, and he nearly jumped when Wearl spoke in his ear. “Kalan, something’s not right here. You need to look out the window.”
The comment was so unexpected that Kalan wouldn’t have known how to respond even if he could have done so without alerting Willom to Wearl’s presence. He began inching slowly to the small window near the door, the only one in the home.
Willom continued, “I began gathering used robotics and mech parts, things that had been discarded by both Aranaught and Talrok in their destructive war against each other. As you saw when you arrived, I may have gotten carried away in building my collection.”
“You call that a collection?” Bob asked. “Where I’m from we’d call it a junkyard.”
“Shut up, Bob,” Kalan said. Reprimanding the human had become so routine in the past month that he almost did it automatically now.
Willom smiled. “No, it’s all right. I understand thinking it’s junk, but to me it’s more than that. It’s the clay I shape to make my art, like that detection robot you fought when you arrived. I built that myself out of scraps, and it has the capability to detect things beyond the abilities of a biological creature. It can see things we’d never see and hear things we’d never hear.”
Kalan and Jilla exchanged a glance. That explained how it had been able to see Wearl.
“Kalan,” Wearl said, her tone insistent now, “you need to look outside.”
He looked toward the window, but he still wasn’t at an angle to see much through its narrow frame. He needed to get closer without attracting attention, so he casually walked toward it.
“And that’s been my life for the past year or so,” Willom said. “I’ve lived here alone, tinkering with my robots and trading bits of tech and intel to Talrok for resources. I don’t need much food to survive these days, but Talrok has provided what I do need.”
Kalan was almost at the window now, and he saw something through the glass—something metal.
“Of course, I’ve had to make concessions here and there,” the cyborg continued. “As Aranaught grew more powerful, I’ve had to negotiate with her. I’ve had to offer her things in order to get her to leave me alone.”
Kalan squinted out the window, and he nearly gasped at what he saw. The home was surrounded by dozens of robots, all of which looked as cobbled-together as the robot they’d seen when they arrived. That didn’t mean they weren’t deadly, though.
He turned to host. “Willom, what’s going on here?”
The cyborg raised his hand, revealing the weapon he’d been holding at his side. “I’m doing what it takes to survive, same as always. Aranaught’s going to be mighty pleased when I turn you over to her, so lay down your weapons before I shoot somebody.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tol’s Moon
It was all a daze, and her head was swirling. Luckily for her she could heal fast, so the feeling quickly vanished. Unfortunately, half the team was still in a state of confusion, and the Bandian was bleeding from the forehead. The rancid smell of vomit was everywhere, and the sound of shooting was growing closer.
She snapped to, leaping up to unstrap Arlay while Robin moved for the Bandian.
“I’ll carry him,” the woman said.
“Everyone else able to walk?” Valerie asked.
“Good here,” came a reply.
“Over here too.”
“Check,” Garcia said, moving for the door and slamming it open. “But we’ve got a major case of incoming baddies.”
“Get us inside,” Arlay said. “We need the command center if we’re going to make this work.”
“Not to worry,” Valerie stated. “Robin, get the Bandian inside with Commander Arlay. Garcia, and Flynn, go with them in case there’s trouble.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to get a message to Kalan, tell him where we are and that the ship’s down, then I’m going to hold off those sons of bitches until you’re safely within the outpost.”
“Val, we can’t just leave you here,” Robin protested.
“You can and you will.” Valerie threw her one of the rifles. “And that’s an order. Go.”
Robin looked like she was about to protest, then cursed and grabbed the Bandian, slung him over a shoulder, and held the rifle with her free hand.
“Make it fast,” Garcia said, “or we’re coming back for you. Nobody left behind.”
“Have I ever not been fast at something I put my mind to?” Valerie asked. “Just go. Trust me!”
Arlay limped to the door as she pulled out her dual pistols and gave Valerie a nod. Then they were gone, staggering their charge as first Garcia, then Flynn provided cover-fire.
Valerie turned back to the controls, hoping this would work.
“Kalan, if you get this, the Grandeur has been shot down and is in need of repairs. We are on Tol’s moon still, where we last saw you. I’m not sure where you are, but if you can manage to bring parts we’d be grateful. We have damage to the left wing, maybe more. I’m sending the ship’s diagnostic report. At a minimum we might need a taxi out of here. Looking forward to fighting at your side again soon. Valerie out.”
The fighting outside had moved in a different direction, so she imagined her team was well on its way to the outpost. The enemy was likely starting to lay siege to them.
But where was Palnik? “Within as well” was the only logical answer, since Valerie knew he wouldn’t willingly go into a fight.
Therefore, she needed to get in there fast. She knew Robin would be able to hold her own, but if something happened to the woman Valerie would never forgive herself.
After snatching up her rifle and securing her sword Valerie hesitated, checked to be sure her helmet was fastened and oxygen flowing, then ran for it.
There was no time for hesitation here, so she ran all-out and shot at the backs of mechs and drones as she went. Her goal was to get them off her friends so that they could get in without further interruption. Two shots hit a drone and sent it crashing down on the mechs, but now they had her in their sights. She began to feel like this plan had been very stupid.
If not for her vampire speed, she would likely have resorted to playing dead right then and seeing if that gave her a chance. Instead, she figured her best bet was to move closely between them, so that they would risk hitting each other at that range. The only logic gap there, she soon realized, was in forgetting that this was all controlled by, essentially, one AI mind. The mechs and drones moved in unison, though still not as fast as she did.
It was draining to move at such speeds, but a glance at the outpost showed she no longer needed to linger to keep the distraction active. A figure was waving its arms, signaling they were good, and then it disappeared within.
Valerie ran up one of the mechs, leaped off before a wave of corrosive gas rose to fight her off, and landed on one of the drones. It tri
ed to flee but lost control under her weight, flying forward until it crashed into the ground, she was able to jump free and land in a roll. A moment later she was on her feet, running all-out for the entrance and dragging the drone behind her.
Shots rang out in front of her and she had to duck and use the drone for cover. Realizing it actually would protect her, she hoisted the drone onto her back and headed for the command center like the fastest turtle ever. Explosions rocked her but she kept on, hoping the drone would be intact enough to be able to wire in. The guards saw her and must’ve been hit with a confusion stick, because they stopped firing long enough for one of them to be hit, the rock that made up the gun hole flying out as debris. Valerie hoisted the nearly-blown-up drone up so that it landed behind the open wall, then dove over it herself as a dozen explosive shots tore up the ground behind her.
The gun walls returned fire again, but they wouldn’t hold for long.
“Robin!” Valerie shouted, darting past confused soldiers. She got it—a moment ago they had been fighting with the mechs and drones, but now they were against them. It did make one’s head spin.
“This way,” Robin replied, and a minute later appeared in one of the tunnels that split off from the main halls, this one carved into the dirt and rock. “They’re in the command center, but there’s trouble.”
“When is there not?” Valerie asked, already running with Robin.
They found their friends at the end of the tunnel with a large room full of machinery behind them.
“Stand down!” Arlay was shouting, crouching behind cover with her pistols aimed across the room.
“What’s the situation?” Valerie asked.
“I told them what happened, but they say they still answer to Talrok, that they won’t sit by while I attempt a ‘coup.’ Their words, not mine.”
“Is there any reason we can’t take them?”