by Dan Krokos
Kylie took her hands off the controls, even though it was clearly the last thing she wanted to do. “Cool, I guess”
Very cool. And yes, please buckle up, Mason Stark.
Mason did what Child told him to do; it had worked out well so far. He went to the passenger section and sat back down next to Merrin.
“What was that all about?” she said. Child must’ve spoken only to Mason and the Reynolds.
He couldn’t help but grin. “Our old pal Child is alive and well.”
Merrin smiled, too. “I was hoping we’d see him again.”
Kylie’s voice broke on the com: “Get ready for a hot exit. This AI seems to think we aren’t capable of walking.”
Just trying to save time, Child replied.
Mason and the others readied themselves, lining up at the rear door. The shuttle was drifting down now on its landing thrusters, swaying gently from side to side, making the team bow their legs as if they were at sea. The rhadjen shifted from foot to foot, eager and a little nervous all at the same time. Stellan and Jeremy, however, were solid as rocks.
“Must be their first time storming an alien stronghold,” Jeremy said.
“Hey, it’s yours, too,” Stellan replied. “I, however, have been here before.”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Po said with a lazy smile. He was the only rhadjen who didn’t seem nervous. “Earth Space Command is big and bad. Maybe when this is over, we can have us a little duel. What say you, human?”
Jeremy grinned wide inside the beard he was trying to grow again (it was still patchy and thin). “Name the time and place, I’ll be there. You can even use those cute gloves of yours.”
The well-intentioned ribbing stopped, because the shuttle door unlocked with a bang. Two seconds later, the ramp slammed down, and the smells of Nori-Blue rushed into the passenger bay. The team fast-marched down the ramp and into the storm. It was only windy at this point, but the air felt thick with rain ready to drop. Mason’s robes tugged at him–what a poor garment to wear in a storm. He unbuttoned the front and shrugged out of it, letting the wind rip it skyward. Lightning flashed in the clouds, illuminating their target: a mountain, tall and wide and black. At the base of the mountain was an enormous arch and beyond that, darkness. The arch was as tall as a skyscraper, a quarter of the mountain itself.
“How was this hidden from our planet-wide scans?”
“I don’t know,” Kylie replied. “They do have a hundred-mile-long ship. I’d assume they have cloaking technology.”
They did have a hundred-mile-long ship, Mason thought, but not anymore. Here on Nori-Blue, the surviving monsters would no doubt love to get ahold of the human responsible.
Stellan shouted “Your gloves!” when he saw how far Mason’s had spread, how the tendrils crawled along his torso, gripping his chest and abdomen.
Mason shook his head: Not now. “Let’s move!” he roared. “Stay close to me. We keep in formation no matter what happens! Once we find Tom, we’re out of here! I’ll try to repel them with my shield, but attack anything that gets too close.”
They ran across the clearing. The trees around them swayed back and forth as if they were waving goodbye. Leaves filled the air, tiny razors zipping and tumbling sideways. Lore gasped as a line of blood appeared on her forehead. They were running for the arch at a full sprint now. This had to be the entrance to their city. Mason had no idea what he would find within, but he was ready to face it.
He was ready.
The team slowed as they approached the arch, but they did not stop. They entered the darkness willingly.
Chapter Forty-one
The sound of the storm became a howl behind them; the wind was cutting across the opening of the arch, like blowing over the mouth of a bottle. The darkness in front of them was absolute.
“Rhadjen!” Po shouted over the noise. “Light the way!” The Tremist spread out and let their gloves come to life. Purple and red light filled the area around them, glowing brightly from their hands. They lit the way ahead, which was a tunnel too huge to be called a tunnel. It also revealed the enemy hidden in the gloom.
Fangborn were all around them.
The monsters were crouched low, ready to spring, their catlike eyes glowing yellow and green in the light, their fangs glistening with venom. A few of them leapt toward the group, but they never came close. Mason punched his fist toward the sky, releasing his will, and a column of crackling black light shot up and then curled down over the team, forming a dome out of electric bars. The Fangborn crashed into the dome and shrieked, falling to the ground in convulsions, some of them not moving at all. Mason kept walking forward, keeping his group under the shield.
The Fangborn retreated as his shield grew nearer, slowly at first, begrudgingly, then faster. The gloves were pleased Mason was using them again. He felt them pull tighter across his chest, felt the material branching down toward his legs. Soon he would be covered … if he allowed it.
At the end of the tunnel the darkness surrendered to light. The team kept moving, running now, the Fangborn hovering at the edges, not daring to approach Mason’s shield. Some of the monsters sprinted away, probably to sound the alarm and get reinforcements. My shield will hold, Mason thought. Or hoped. It has to, or we’re all dead.
Beyond the tunnel, the mountain was hollow. It seemed to stretch away to infinity in all directions, but if Mason squinted, he could just make out the walls, which angled upward to meet at several different peaks. Built into the walls of the mountain and all along the floor were hundreds of buildings carved from the rock. They clustered like needles, stabbing at the false sky above them. It reminded Mason of a cave floor, the buildings like stalagmites but carved into jagged shapes.
It was a city.
Mason could smell the Fangborn, but it was quiet, empty. Had they all been aboard the ship? Mason had a feeling this was only the surface, that the real city was below their feet, deep underground in caverns like the one the king’s Hawk had fallen into.
Where do I go, Child? Mason thought.
You’re on the right path, Child replied.
The team was on a primitive version of a street, no pavement, just flat stone that had been smoothed but not perfectly. They circumvented a jutting array of rocks and found that the road widened and continued for another hundred yards. Straight ahead stood an enormous building atop a hill, with many steps leading up to it.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Merrin said, and not for the first time since Mason had known her.
Mason didn’t reply, not wanting to break the concentration on his shield. All it would take was a minor lapse for a Fangborn to slip through and eviscerate them. They kept walking toward the building, which resembled a palace more than anything. The stone it was carved from shone gold, with mighty pillars as wide as redwoods all across the front.
The gloves continued to shield them, and Mason slipped into a semiconscious state, putting one foot in front of the other. They climbed the steps as one and entered the palace as one.
They knew we were coming.
The room was vast, many stories tall, a hundred yards wide, but all it held was a throne. And Fangborn. The room was bisected by a rich crimson carpet leading to the other end, where more steps rose to an enormous throne carved out of rock. The throne was part of the floor, which was part of the mountain. Fangborn lined the perimeter, standing at attention, or at what resembled attention for a Fangborn. They were still hunched slightly, still ready to strike at any moment.
Atop the throne sat a Fangborn larger than the others. What else could he be besides a king?
The king spoke in a rumbling voice. “Why are you here?” It reminded Mason of distant thunder.
“I’m here to get my friend back!” Mason shouted over the crackling energy of his gloves. The Fangborn didn’t seem as if they were about to attack, so he let the power fade from his gloves. The silence that followed was as big as the room.
Then: “He doesn’t want to go
with you.”
Mason stepped closer. He felt Merrin’s hand brush his arm, but he was moving too quickly. He wanted to see the king. At this distance, he was indistinguishable from any other Fangborn, save for a thick sash he wore across his chest. It was comprised of metal links wound together, like ancient chain mail.
“Yes, he does,” Mason said. “Now tell me where he is.”
“You destroyed our ship.”
“So imagine what I can do to you.”
The king began to laugh. He stood up slowly and stretched, then cracked his neck. He exhaled fiercely from his nostrils, creating twin plumes of steam.
The Fangborn began to close in from the perimeter walls, sauntering, one clawed foot after another.
“Uh, Mason?” Po said.
“Decision time!” Kylie said.
Mason lifted his fist, and the shield formed around them again. The king was still walking toward them. And he was still laughing. What does he know that I don’t?
“There are many things your gloves can protect you against, but not everything.…”
From all directions, the Fangborn threw tiny rocks into the group. As they rolled by Mason’s feet, he saw they were metal canisters. A few sparked off Mason’s shield, but dozens of them made it through the electric bars and instantly began to spew a thick blue gas. It was chest height immediately, then above their heads a second later. Mason didn’t even have time to hold his breath. The gas seemed alive. It flew up his nose, then down into his lungs, and he grew five hundred pounds heavier, then a thousand, and he fell asleep with the king’s laughter ringing in his ears.
Chapter Forty-two
Wake up, Mason Stark. Please wake up? I need you to wake up, or you and your friends will be doomed, and I went to all that trouble helping you the first time around. Ah! Hello. Good morning.
Mason’s eyes took a million years to open. He was on his back in a rock cell like the one he’d seen Tom in. The door was a force field. There was no sound but its gentle hum, no sight except for the rock wall on the other side of the force field.
You’re not far from the king of the Fangborn, or the Usurper, as they call him. That’s how the Fangborn rule—through strength. He is the strongest of them—Oh, but I digress. You must want out.
“Are they going to turn us into Fangborn?” Mason asked. His throat was raw from the gas, and it felt like an inch or so of liquid was sloshing around inside his lungs.
Haven’t you been paying attention? No. Not if I have anything to do with it.
From the right, a small black orb drifted into view. It bobbed up and down, and a man appeared on the surface. The skin of the globe was a video screen. The man waved. It was Child, an AI created millions of years ago to carry on the work of the People.
“It is beyond great to see you,” Mason said. “How are the others?”
“They are alive, and human,” Child replied. “Or Tremist, depending on what they were before you arrived.”
“Can you get me out?” Mason said. His eyes scanned the corners of the force field for any weakness he could exploit, but he already knew there would be none.
“Well, yes…”
Mason sensed a but coming on.
“But in order to do so, I will have to deconstruct you on that side of the force field, then put you back together on this side. You will effectively not exist for a moment.”
Mason’s heart started to pound. He’d never even heard of that kind of technology. “Like, you mean on a molecular level?”
“Think smaller,” Child replied.
Not like there was another choice. “Do it,” Mason said.
“I must warn you, after this I will be at too low of a power level to assist you. In fact, I will cease to be operational. Forever. And also there is a fourteen percent chance you will be reconstructed incorrectly and die a horrible death.”
Mason felt like he’d been slapped. He hadn’t even spent an hour with Child in total, but Child was the reason Mason and his friends were still alive today. On the sphere was a skull and crossbones. The skull was laughing. Child had a grim sense of humor for an AI. Mason always wondered if he would have been friends with Elizabeth, the Egypt’s AI, or just found her painfully dim-witted.
“Child … you know I can’t let you do that. There’s no way to open the door?”
“This may surprise you, but the amount of energy required to open the door is higher than it would take to deconstruct you. The Fangborn are working with powerful energies, and they aren’t in the habit of letting their prey escape.”
Mason looked at the rock wall around him. “Maybe I can blast my way out.”
“Or heat the air so much your lungs are scorched from the inside out. Hmm … scanning … it would appear your gloves are trying to merge with your flesh. I would take them off immediately, or as soon as it is safe to.”
“I can’t,” Mason said.
“You will have to try harder, then, before they are a part of you.”
The Uniter was able to control them. So hopefully I can, too.
“Are you ready?” Child asked.
Mason didn’t know what to say.
Child bobbed back and forth in a way that seemed happy. “Mason Stark, I have been alive, as you would call it, for a very long time. I have been alone for almost as long. I would like to see where machines go when they deactivate. I have fulfilled the purpose set for me by my creators. I am, in fact, content.”
Mason felt pressure behind his eyes. He looked at the floor and imagined what he would do next, and then he looked at the machine he owed his life to. “Thank you, Child.”
Fourteen percent. There is a fourteen percent chance this ends right now. I will have to leave my friends behind in this place.
“You are most welcome. Stand by.”
“Will it hu—” Mason stopped talking because the lights went out. The sensation throughout his body was brief and felt like fading into darkness. But then he saw light again. He stood on his two feet outside the cell. A wave of nausea ripped through his stomach, and he dropped to his knees, throwing up bloody mucus.
“Scanning … you are complete. Putting your blood back in all the right places was almost as difficult as reconstructing your brain. I am quite proud of myself.” Child’s voice was quieter. He was no longer bobbing, but rather stationary in midair. The surface of the sphere was flickering with static.
Mason tasted blood in his mouth. His left foot was cramped, and there was a ringing in his ears. He felt like he’d been in a spaceship crash. His heart was beating strangely in his chest—bump, bump-bump-bump, bumpbump—but after a moment it settled into a normal rhythm.
“Are you okay?” Mason said when he could stand tall again.
Child flashed a thumbs-up and drifted slowly to the ground, the static fading to black. “Be strong, Mason Stark. Your journey is just beginning.” The sphere touched the floor and didn’t move. It didn’t seem to hold life as before; instead it now felt like an inert black ball. Mason kneeled next to it and picked it up with both hands. It was almost too heavy to lift.
Mason set Child on the ground. He didn’t want to leave it there, but he had no choice. “I will be strong,” he said, and then left the sphere behind.
Chapter Forty-three
Mason’s had been the only occupied cell in the row—his team must have been held somewhere else. He found a tunnel that led to a set of crumbling rock stairs. The air stank of age and rock dust: the Fangborn probably weren’t used to having prisoners. Mason climbed the steps and came across no monsters. The stairs led to a platform with no walls or doors, just a circular disk of polished metal. Mason stepped on it, and the disk pulsed with rings of red light on the surface. It began to rise, entering a vertical cylinder cut into the rock. A cylinder that led directly to the throne room, where the Fangborn king was sitting on his throne.
Mason was going to use his words first. That’s what Stellan would have suggested, and Mason had learned to listen to him.
The Usurper noticed him, and stood up. “Impossible…”
“I did not come here to fight,” Mason said. He made his voice strong. He was not going to throw away Child’s gift.
The king moved toward him, slow and steady down the steps, one foot after another.
Oh well. It seemed like Mason was going to have to fight after all.
Mason remembered something Child had said to him long ago: You are a Rhadgast. So clap your hands.
Mason clapped his hands and held them together. A shaft of electricity sprouted from his closed fists. He pulled his hands apart and now held two blades, one in each hand. They crackled black and hot.
The Usurper laughed and kept walking down the stairs. He grabbed the links of metal around his chest and pulled hard. The chains split apart into two metal whips. The king whipped one sideways at Mason, who barely snapped his left blade down in time to parry. The chains sparked off his lightning sword but did not melt. And then another attack was coming, this one from the other chain high above his head. The chains were moving so fast they screamed through the air. Mason parried with both blades in the shape of an X, but the chain still curled around and slapped him on the back. Mason fell to one knee, his body on fire. But he did not unleash all of his power. He kept the gloves at bay. Use your words.
“Please,” Mason said, rising to his feet. “I have destroyed your ship. I want this to end. Let us make peace. What can we do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
The Usurper let his chains rest on the floor at his sides, like coiled snakes. “It is beyond your simple mind’s understanding. We are trying to make you pure. We are trying to free you from your meaningless existence. You are not our enemy underneath that weak flesh and fragile bones.”
“That isn’t your choice to make,” Mason said.
“Nor was it ours. The universe is older than you know. We are not the darkest things in dark space, young one.”
“But you tried to destroy our planets!”
“So that many would escape to space.”