X-Calibur: The Return

by Jackson-Lawrence, R.

  Adam 359 felt sick at the thought, an anger bubbling under the surface. He wasn’t an it, he was alive, a living, breathing human. As he thought that, an element of his programming reminded him that he was an organic machine, created by the Mori, who were in all ways superior.

  Adam 359 reluctantly turned his attention back to the line. Before him stood a woman a little shorter than him, her skin and hair much darker than Adam 359’s. She was also much slighter of build, unlike many of the other girls who had enlarged muscles similar to Adam 359’s.

  “Hello,” Adam 359 said. “I’m Adam 359.”

  “Eve 997,” the girl replied. She looked to be in her late teens, just like Adam 359, with dark brown eyes and a small, upturned nose.

  Adam 359 smiled down at her. “Where are we going?” he asked. “Do you know?”

  “I was instructed to join the line,” Eve 997 replied. “I suppose we’ll be given further instructions when we reach the end.” Adam nodded in agreement and found he had nothing more to say to her. He wanted to talk about the slave who had been recycled, about the anger he was feeling, but the girl seemed content to follow the line and await her fate.

  The line snaked down the stairs and into a narrow corridor. The walls and floor had the same black, metallic sheen to them as the room above, while the ceiling emitted a soft white light which cast no shadows.

  When he reached the end of the corridor, a further guard instructed him to step through a door into a square room beyond. As soon as the door hissed shut behind him, he was suddenly drenched with high pressure cold water from above, washing away the remains of the nutrient gel. The power of the water was almost strong enough to drive him to the floor, but just as he thought he could endure it no longer, the water cut off and another door opened.

  Adam 359 stepped hesitantly from the square room into much larger one. He was handed a set of clothes; a pair of pale grey trousers and a t-shirt, and instructed to dress. The hundreds of people around him were dressed or dressing similarly, though he noticed those with less developed muscles wore green or black.

  Once the room seemed full to capacity, a voice from nowhere and everywhere stated, “Greys through the door to the left. Board the shuttles as directed and prepare to drop.”

  *****

  Adam 359 stepped through the door with the others dressed in grey, ready to board the drop ships to the mines below. As he passed through the double doors, he saw the first of the Dorgans boarding a ship to his left.

  The Dorgans were another species enslaved by the Mori. Most stood taller than humans at a little over seven feet. They had blue skin and long, slim arms and legs with three worm-like digits at the end of each limb. Their heads seemed to emerge straight from their body, with no obvious neck, taking on a conical appearance.

  They had two black eyes, forward facing, with a slit between them which approximated for the human nose. Beneath that was fish-like mouth, wide but without teeth, evolved to swallow food whole. When they spoke, their words had an involuntary hissing quality as their small tongues struggled to articulate the Mori language.

  Adam 359 was one of the last to board his shuttle, the door closing behind him and squeezing him against the hundreds of other people already on board. The inside was unlit, and the only light came from the small circular window in the shuttle door, beside Adam 359’s head. As the gangway retracted and the shuttle began to drop, he was able to see the enormous alien hive ship grow smaller as he approached the asteroid below.

  The hive ship was almost as big as the asteroid the shuttle approached. At over twenty miles across and a little over ten miles high, it was home to tens of millions of Mori and millions of slaves, human and Dorgan alike. Adam 359 watched as thirty drop ships followed his, their long narrow silhouette blocking out the stars as they descended, slowing as they approached the landing bay.

  Adam 359 felt a sudden jolt as the shuttle touched down. The door slid open onto the dusty asteroid surface, where four Mori guards were waiting to escort the slaves to their assignments. They were marched in a tight line, two guards at either end, the shuttle lifting from the landing bay seconds after the last slave departed.

  The landing bay exit was a narrow tunnel, carved from the rock of the asteroid. The floor had a metal surface, similar to those aboard the hive ship, generating the artificial gravity. An energy shield surrounded the asteroid, maintaining the rich oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere which the three species needed to breathe.

  The guards marched the slaves to a large open area, where further Mori handed out the heavy mining machinery. Adam 359 received a pneumatic drill, while others around him received different equipment and some handheld tools. The programming he had received in the pod gave him detailed knowledge of the drill’s use, and a moment later he was boarding one of the wire cage lifts to descend into the centre of the asteroid.

  As he departed the lift, Adam 359 and the small cluster of slaves with him were escorted to the end of a tunnel and instructed to begin digging. They passed hundreds of slaves, human and Dorgan alike, all working on extracting the gralitanium ore, an essential component of the gravity drives powering the Mori vessels. Direct contact with the ore was toxic, and most of the slaves lived for less than a year.

  They began working immediately, Adam 359 driving the pneumatic drill against the rockface before stepping back and allowing other slaves to step in and clear away the debris. They scoured amongst the rubble for signs of the blue crystalline ore before beginning the process again, over and over until a siren sounded far above and they were finally allowed a moment to rest.

  *****

  After twelve hours of hard, tiring work, the siren sounded to call an end to the working day. The guard led Adam 359 and his small group back to the lift and up to the surface of the asteroid. There, they returned their tools and were allowed twelve hours off to eat and rest.

  The guards left them alone during downtime, there was nowhere for them to go. The slaves were left to their own devices in a large open area almost half-a-mile across. There were lines of tired looking cots for them to sleep on, and banks of showers and toilets along one wall.

  A security field separated the slaves from the landing bay, though the drop ships rarely landed for longer than the time needed to unload. They brought raw food from the hive ship once per day, which the slaves took it upon themselves to prepare for each other with the meagre facilities provided. It wasn’t much, but they did their best to make it feel like home.

  Adam 359 followed others in his group as they helped themselves to some food and found somewhere to sit. As he sat on an empty patch of dirt, a member of his group decided to sit next to him. They sat together in companionable silence, Adam 359 eating the processed meat dish with his fingers, the Dorgan gulping down handfuls of a gelatinous substance.

  “Adam 359,” Adam 359 said with a smile, wiping his hand on his trousers and offering it to the Dorgan beside him.

  “Orlac 552,” the Dorgan replied, his lower lip rippling in a gesture Adam 359 recognised as the equivalent of smiling. The programming he had received told him the basics of the Dorgans as a species, and the meanings of their gestures and facial expressions. Adam 359 assumed the Dorgans had received similar programming in return regarding humans.

  “I saw you come down with me on the ship,” Adam 359 continued. “Tough first day.”

  “I never thought today would end,” Orlac 552 replied. “I’m so hungry.”

  Adam 359 offered him the remains of meal, though Orlac 552 only looked away in disgust. “Thank you for your generosity,” Orlac 552 said. “Sadly, one mouthful of your food would do more harm to me than good. My body isn’t equipped to digest the synthetic protein strands.”

  “I don’t think I could stomach what you’re eating either,” Adam 359 replied with a grin. Orlac 552 smiled in return.

  As time passed, Adam 359 noticed the Dorgans and humans beginning to separate, splitting themselves into two distinct groups. Orlac 552 thanked Adam 359
for his companionship before standing and joining the rest of his people. As Adam 359 watched, the Dorgans formed a rough circle, their fingers interlocking with those beside them. As one, they looked up to the stars above and began to produce a series of tones and notes, the newer members taking the lead from those who had spent longer in the mines.

  Adam 359 was entranced. The music was truly beautiful, taking on a hypnotic quality as the notes were repeated, over and over. At some point during the song, another human slave sat down beside him.

  “New, huh?” the slave said, drawing Adam 359 from his trance.

  “Yes,” Adam 359 replied. The woman next to him was certainly older, though in the mines that meant only a matter of weeks or months, not years. The dust and ore had damaged her skin, giving it a leathery appearance that aged her more than anything else.

  “It’s a song, from their home world,” the slave explained. “The Dorgans have managed to keep it alive ever since they were taken, passing it along from person to person at the end of every day.”

  “Home world?” Adam 359 asked. “Humans and Dorgans were made by the Mori, organic machines do do their bidding.”

  “That’s the lie they feed you,” the slave said quietly. “Lies to keep us down, to deny us our freedom. Humans, Dorgans, we were all free once with worlds of our own.”

  Adam 359 was confused. His programming told him different, but something the other slave said rang true. “What does it mean?” Adam 359 asked. “Their song, I mean?”

  “It tells the story of their beginnings,” the slave began. “The Dorgans believe their world was created by the two great sky spirits, Orlac and Ulis. They met one day and fell in love, their union creating Ma’Han, the Dorgan home world. The great sky spirits watch over them, and the Dorgans give thanks for their support and protection.”

  “They really believe that?” Adam 359 asked.

  “Mind your tongue,” the slave said. “These stories are all they have of their home. What do you know of Earth? Of the creator and Adam and Eve?”

  Adam 359 shrugged. He knew male humans were called Adam and female humans Eve, but the reason for the names were lost on him. “Exactly,”the slave continued. “Come, hear the stories of Adam and Eve and the tree of life, of The Buddha, Allah and Muhammad. The Mori Overlords seek to take our identity from us, but while we keep the stories alive our past gives us strength. Listen and learn, and pass the stories onto those that follow. The Earth is real, and one day we’ll return home.”

  Adam 359 was stunned. His neural programming told him humans and Dorgans were created by the Mori, organic machines to do the bidding of the overlords. They were inferior in every way to the Mori, disposable and replaceable, and to challenge them meant death.

  “Come,” the slave said again, offering Adam 359 her hand. “You have a lot to learn.”

  *****

  After Adam 359’s seventeenth day of working in the mine, he rode the lift back to the surface of the asteroid. He was weary and exhausted, his every muscle aching, his eyes already closing. Orlac 552 looked much the same, leaning heavily against the side of the lift.

  “This is too much,” Adam 359 said as he returned his tools to the small secure shed. “Day in, day out, how long do they expect us to go on like this?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?” Orlac 552 said.

  They helped themselves to some food and sat heavily on the ground in their usual spot, barely enough energy to move the food to their mouths. The was a sombre air to the camp, more than just the physical exhaustion. Adam 359 tapped the leg of a passing Dorgan to enquire what was wrong.

  “Tunnel collapse,” the Dorgan slave replied. “Killed two teams this afternoon.”

  Adam 359 looked towards the ground. He no doubt knew some of those who’d died, people he had sat with, ate with, shared stories with. They were gone, buried beneath rock and dirt.

  “Slaves” the intercom said suddenly. “Through the negligence of your fellows, two guards have been killed, their bodies buried beneath debris. In recompense, your first task tomorrow will be to retrieve the guard’s remains to allow them to be returned to their families.

  “That is all.”

  Adam 359 looked to Orlac 552, a thousand questions running through his mind. “What about the slaves who died?” he asked first. “Won’t the tunnel still be dangerous for us to go digging? It could collapse on us too.”

  “The lost slaves are no more important than a lost communicator or plasma rifle,” Orlac 552 said. “Probably less so. Haven’t you noticed? Fresh slaves arrive every day from the hive ship, replacing those lost to the dust, or the work, or a guard’s bad temper. We’re just machines, replaceable, disposable. There’s always more where we came from.”

  “That’s wrong,” Adam 359 said defiantly. “We’re alive. We think. We can hope and dream. We’re more than a communicator or plasma rifle, we can make choices. Surely that means something to the Mori?”

  Orlac 552 laughed. “It means we’re trouble,” he said. “Come, tell the stories and get some rest. You can hope and dream we don’t die tomorrow.”

  *****

  Twenty-four days had passed since Adam 359 first arrived in the mine. He spent every waking moment thinking about the stories he had heard, of the Earth and the creator, of Adam and Eve. Was any of it true? Could any of it be true? If humans were created by the Mori, how did the Earth factor into their origins? Who were the first Adam and Eve?

  Questions ran continuously through his mind, invading every thought. He barely noticed as the tunnel mouth he had been digging with his team had opened up into a rich vein of gralitanium ore, and they had changed to smaller, handheld tools to extract it.

  They were all exhausted. When not working, sleep was difficult despite the physical exertion, the continuous ambient light making it difficult to doze off. The food was bland and tasteless, and had barely enough calories to sustain them for the following day. The older slaves reassured them they would adapt, but what they failed to add was, that only applied to those who survived.

  The dust and fumes were affecting their breathing, making them cough and wheeze as their hands separated the ore from the rock. The Dorgans had it slightly easier, their worm-like fingers snaking into the rock and displacing the ore from behind. As Adam 359 and Orlac 552 worked together to release a large block of ore from the cave wall, Eve 717, a fellow slave on their team, became overwhelmed by the fumes, dropping to one knee.

  Adam 359 released his grip on the ore and stepped to help her, but Orlac 552 held him back. As Adam 359 struggled against Orlac 552’s grip, he saw why the Dorgan had stopped him. As he watched, the Guard who had been observing them stepped towards the fallen woman, removing the stun baton from his hip as he did so. With a flick of his wrist the stun baton extended, and the guard proceeded to apply the glowing tip to the young woman’s back.

  Eve 717 jerked and spasmed as the electrical current surged through her. Once the assault was over, she tried to get to her feet but her legs betrayed her. She fell to the floor and lay there, helplessly, as the guard proceeded to beat and stun her with the baton.

  Adam 359 watched as the girl was horrifically attacked. This was part of their life. If you failed to work, your life was forfeit, beaten and replaced and sent for recycling. They knew this from the moment of their birth.

  He knew what was going to happen, knew she was going to die, but he forced himself to watch, to see her face and remember. Many of the others had already returned to their tasks, chiselling away at the ore or drilling into the rock. Not him though, he would watch and he would remember.

  As he met Eve 717’s eyes, he saw the fear staring back at him. She didn’t want to die, she had barely lived, and every moment of her life so far had been pain. In that instant, something inside him came to life, a thought, an idea, something new. He wanted to save her, wanted to save all of them. They didn’t deserve to be treated that way, none of them did.

  Adam 359 struggled again a
gainst Orlac 552’s grip. “We have to help her,” Adam 359 demanded. “He’s killing her!”

  “No, you can’t,” Orlac 552 insisted. “If one of us resists, many will die. Those are the rules.”

  Adam 359 understood, but it pained him to see the young woman suffer. As Eve 717 dropped to the floor, her body unmoving but for the jolts of electricity the guard forced through it, Adam 359 felt the spark inside him begin to extinguish. As his gaze lingered on the girl’s lifeless body, he failed to notice the guard take a step towards him.

  “You, slave,” the guard said, pointing the stun baton directly towards him. “Do you have something to say?”

  Adam 359 had so much he wanted to say, but he knew it would only mean death. Part of him wanted to speak up anyway, to shout and scream about their right to be free, but Orlac 552’s continued hand on his arm helped him hold his tongue.

  “Good,” the guard continued, satisfied. “I was concerned you might be as defective as this one.”

  As the guard turned to kick the deceased Eve 717, a sudden movement caught Adam 359’s attention. By the time he saw the woman’s approach, she had already kicked herself off from the wall and was propelling herself towards the Mori guard. She was much slighter than the other human women in the mines, with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore an ill-fitting chest-plate over her grey clothes, the same as those worn by the Mori guards, held in place by lengths of green fabric.

  Her foot connected with the side of the guard’s head, knocking him off balance. She followed with a swift strike of a stone knife, driving it between the plates of chitin near the guard’s neck, killing him instantly. She cast her eyes over the crowd of slaves, her gaze lingering longest on Adam 359, before turning on her heels and sprinting back along the winding tunnels and out of sight.