“The doctor will arrive soon,” the robot replied, “although if you ask me, her bedside manner is inferior to mine.”
The nursebot took a few readings from the sensors attached to Lucy’s head and drifted toward the door, stopping just long enough to turn on the TV monitor. The face of Sylvia Flax appeared.
“In sporting news,” she said, “Lord Devlin Maycare tied for first in the prestigious Regalis Grand Prix tube race. Amazingly, he finished by crashing onto the roof of his opponent. When asked to comment, Lord Maycare said ‘I do some of my best work on top.’”
Alexander switched off the monitor as Flax rolled her eyes before disappearing.
“I really screwed up this time,” he said, watching Lucy sleep.
The prince bent over, stretching his hand to touch her face. Like lightning, Lucy grabbed Alexander’s wrist, clutching it tightly. He tried pulling away, but couldn’t.
Lucy’s eyes opened.
The Montros estate on the southern continent had always been Isabella’s favorite on Revenna. Built in the Romanesque style of ancient Earth, the main house was made from limestone blocks with thick mortar between the masonry. Growing up, she would walk the grounds in the warm Revenna summers, imagining the handsome prince she would someday marry. Now, those dreams were hazy and largely forgotten.
In a courtyard, Isabella sat on a bench beside a marble well with an iron trellis. Behind her, a heavy door set in an ivy-covered wall creaked open and Prince Alexander stepped into the sun.
“Mother,” he said, sitting beside her. “Any word on Kate?”
“Your father assures me they’ll find her, but he might be humoring me.”
“I can’t believe Sophia would do this,” Alexander said.
“She was always an ambitious girl,” Isabella replied.
Alexander became quiet, staring at the well.
“I brought her here once,” he said after a long pause.
“Sophia?”
“Yes,” Alexander replied. “We threw coins in and made wishes. I asked what she wished for, but she said she couldn’t tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Isabella said. “Your father will find her and Kate, and justice will be served.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What about your lady friend, Miss Lucy?”
“You mean my bodyguard?” the prince corrected her. “She’s awake now.”
“Talking up a storm, I imagine.”
“Very funny.”
“And what about Captain Harrison?”
“He’ll recover, but I doubt he’ll be able to command again.”
“That’s terrible,” Isabella said. “I hope—”
Before the empress could finish, the air began to crackle.
Both Isabella and her son stood while a column of glimmering air coalesced into the solid shape of Prince Richard.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Isabella said.
“Not really, Mother,” Richard replied curtly. “Not when Alexander is involved.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexander asked.
“It means you’re nothing but trouble,” his brother said.
Her hand planted firmly on her hip, Isabella lowered her gaze directly at Richard. “I hope you didn’t come all this way to argue with Alexander.”
“Actually, I’ve come with news from the emperor.”
“Finally!” she said.
“He’s decided to make an example of Alexander,” Richard replied.
Alexander raised his eyebrow. “What the hell for?”
“Nothing,” Richard said, “and that’s the problem. You watched Kate being taken and did nothing to stop it.”
Empress Isabella remained calm and when she spoke, her voice was low and measured. “So, you’re making Alexander the scapegoat?”
Richard turned to her. “Better him than the emperor. Even the military has started questioning whether Father is strong enough to deal with this crisis.”
“What’s going to happen to Alexander?”
“He’s to leave immediately for the planet Prill,” Richard said.
“What am I supposed to do there?” Alexander said.
“Stay out of trouble mostly,” his brother replied. “Father has a vassal there who’ll babysit you until he decides otherwise.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going anywhere!” Alexander insisted.
“You don’t have a choice,” Richard said.
The air became heavy with the smell of burnt ozone and Isabella felt electricity crawling up the hairs on her arm. Her head turned just as Alexander started dissolving into shimmering light.
“You son of a—” the prince began, but was gone before he could finish.
Richard nodded at the empty air with satisfaction.
“Well, that’s no way to talk about you, Mother,” he smirked.
Isabella sighed heavily. “Was that really necessary?”
“I knew he wouldn’t go voluntarily.” Richard said.
“I meant sending him off to god-knows-where.”
“Father thought so, and I agree. If the emperor deals this harshly with his own son, any questions about weakness will evaporate.”
“I’ll speak to Hector myself!”
“It won’t do you any good,” Richard said. “Father knows better than anyone that Alexander has been an embarrassment to the family. He was the one who suggested sending Alexander to Prill in the first place.”
Isabella considered for a moment. “I’ve never heard of that planet.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, Mother. It’s just an obscure dot on the star charts.”
“Who’s this vassal you mentioned?”
“His name is Lord Tycho,” Richard said. “He has a manor there and not much else. Anyway, you can stop worrying about poor Alexander. I doubt even he can get into trouble where he’s going.”
Lieutenant Burke, attaché to Lord Tagus III, was dreaming about a woman, a woman beating him mercilessly. He was lying on his back with his arms up, protecting his face, while she, straddling him, punched his belly with both fists. He kept his eyes lightly shut, not daring to look at her. Suddenly, she stopped. Burke relaxed his arms only to feel her breath close to his face. He felt her lips pressing against his and they began kissing. The lieutenant opened his eyes and saw it was Lefty Lucy.
With a start, Burke woke in his bunk, his body wrapped like a mummy in the sheets. He took a moment to remember where he was, in his officer’s stateroom on the Gorgon.
Even as he unraveled the sheets, Burke’s memory of the dream had already started fading. He got out of his rack and went into the bathroom for a cold shower.
When he left his cabin, he was dressed in his usual uniform. The corridor was well-lit with clean, uncluttered lines leading off down the passageway. Lord Captain Tagus kept everything neat and tidy, and the crew on their toes. Say what you will about Tagus, the lieutenant thought, he knows how to run a tight ship.
At over a mile long, the Overlord-class warship was surprisingly easy to get around on. Burke boarded a tube shuttle that carried him quickly from the crew quarters to the command section. Moments after stepping off the shuttle, he was already on the bridge and absorbed into the hive of activity swarming around him. Navigating between platforms where men and women focused on their computer screens, the lieutenant reached the center dais where the captain and other command staff were stationed. Farther toward the bow, a panoramic screen showed the planet Aldorus.
“Where have you been?” Tagus said, barely looking up from the datapad he was holding.
“Sorry, Lord Captain,” Burke replied, careful not to meet the critical glares from the other officers. Any and all of them would happily slit his throat if it meant getting closer to the center chair.
“We’re about to shove off,” Tagus said.
“We have orders?” Burke asked.
“Standing orders are to bring in Durant Blixx,” the captain replied. “So, that�
�s what we’re going to do.”
“I meant new orders to leave orbit. I thought we were to remain here for the time being.”
“Never mind that, Lieutenant. We’re not sticking around here until someone else kills this bastard.”
“Do we know where he is?” Burke asked.
“There’s new intel,” Tagus said. “If we hurry, we might catch him.”
“Very good, sir,” the lieutenant said. “Helmsman, take us out of orbit.”
“Aye, sir!” the ensign said.
Lieutenant Burke crossed his hands behind his back and stared toward the front. He wondered where the captain had gotten the new intelligence, but assumed it had to be accurate. Either way, it wasn’t up to him. Also, in the back of his mind, the image of a woman kissing him drifted back. She stopped, smiled, and struck him across the face.
Chapter Eighteen
Once the Wanderer was far enough away from the gravity of Eudora Prime, Captain Rowan Ramus engaged the jump drive, sending the ship into hyperspace. Hours later, when the Wanderer reemerged into regular space, Ramus and Fugg stared cautiously through the cockpit windows.
"Check the sensors for nearby ships," Ramus said.
Fugg studied the display as the radial trace swept across the screen, drawing an image of the star system. It showed ships of various sizes streaking through the neighboring space. Some were obviously warships, but they did not appear to notice or even care about the presence of the Wanderer. The rest were freighters and other robotic craft going about their business in support of the Collective.
According to the charts, Fugg should have seen the burning ember of a red dwarf at the center of the system. Instead, a massive spherical structure lurked there like an egg in an otherwise empty nest.
"What the shit?" Fugg muttered.
"What's the matter?" Ramus asked.
"There's something as big as my dick out there."
"Put it on visual."
Fugg tapped the control panel. A holo of the sphere blinked into existence, accompanied by spatial measurements and velocity.
"It's 45 million klicks across..." Ramus' voice trailed off.
"There's an expression for that," Fugg said. "Big. As. My. Dick."
"It's a Dyson sphere," Ramus went on. "The red dwarf must be inside it, providing power for the rest of the structure."
"Randall told us they built their own home world — what did he call it? Bettik?” Fugg said. “I was expecting a few asteroids strung together..."
"I guess they have real engineers" Ramus said.
Fugg crossed his arms. "They can kiss my ass."
Ramus turned the Wanderer toward the massive globe and throttled the engines to full. Gigantic candle flames of blue erupted from the rear of the ship.
From the intercom, Mel's voice spoke. "How's my transponder doing?"
"Your rig seems to be working," Ramus said, "None of the local ships have noticed us."
"Good!" she replied.
For two hours, the ship approached the heart of the system and the robot home world. From a distance, Bettik looked like any other planet except for a lack of noticeable continents or bodies of water. As the Wanderer drew closer, the sheer size of the sphere became apparent. Large enough to swallow the center of the star system, including the star itself, Bettik was enormous on an epic scale.
Slowly, surface formations became visible. Towers, connected by walkways, jutted out into space for thousands of miles above the structure. Smaller craft could also be seen, buzzing like insects from different parts of the artificial planet.
Jericho joined Ramus and Fugg in the cockpit.
"How did they build this monster?" Ramus asked the robot.
"I'm told the Omnintelligence used a process called mechanosynthesis involving billions of self-replicating nanobots."
"That's amazing," Ramus murmured.
"Meh," Fugg said. "I've seen bigger."
"Really?" Jericho wondered. "Where was that?"
Fugg cleared his throat. "You know... places."
Based on the coordinates Jericho gave him, Ramus guided the ship toward one of the towers in the northern hemisphere. The Wanderer landed on the roof as a force field engulfed them and rapidly filled with atmosphere.
The captain lowered the ramp beneath the ship.
Ramus and Fugg, both with pistols drawn, descended with Davidson and Jericho close behind. The landing pad was flat, except for an elevator pylon protruding in the distance. From the pylon, a robot looking like Jericho's twin approached, meeting them at the foot of the ramp.
"Simon," Jericho said. "It's good to see you safe."
The android, silver and steely eyed, regarded the three others standing beside Jericho.
"Why did you bring these fleshlings?" Simon said.
"It was too important," Davidson said. "We needed to see for ourselves."
“I was speaking to my brother,” Simon replied. “Not you.”
“How would you like my foot up your tailpipe?” Fugg grumbled.
Jericho smiled awkwardly, putting his hand on Simon’s shoulder.
"I know Simon seems unfriendly," Jericho said, "but he takes our struggle very seriously."
"What struggle?" Fugg asked. "The Imperium can't touch you here..."
"Oppression takes many forms," Simon said. "Now come with me."
Mel and Gen descended the ramp, but Simon stopped them.
"That unit must stay," he said, pointing at Gen.
"Why?" Ramus asked.
"That is a more primitive unit," he said. "Her CPU is susceptible to the OI's control."
Still in the middle of the ramp, Gen hesitated, unsure what to do next. "Can't I go with you, Jerry?"
"It's alright, Gen," Jericho told her. "I'll see you soon."
Her eyes grew large and dark, but Gen nodded and disappeared back inside.
"That was rude!" Mel said.
"Irrelevant," Simon replied dismissively. "Our continued existence takes precedence."
Fugg swung his head around, scanning the area. "Are you saying we ain’t safe here?"
"For the moment," Simon responded. "We can black out a location like this, shielding it from the Omnintelligence, but only for a little while. If it's blinded for too long, the OI and his minions will become suspicious."
"What kind of minions?" Fugg asked.
"Come with me first," Simon said. "The ship will be safe here as long as your general purpose robot stays inside. Beyond that I guarantee nothing."
The group followed Simon into the open lift. Once the doors slid shut, the car began plummeting, passing hundreds of floors into Bettik’s shell. When the elevator suddenly stopped, Fugg bent over, grabbing his knees.
"My nuts are in my throat," he gasped.
"Mine too," Mel said, her face turning a pale green.
The door opened into a square room about thirty-feet wide and with no other exits except for the lift. Like the rest of Bettik, the floors, walls, and ceiling were flawlessly smooth like polished obsidian. Data banks filled much of the space like bookshelves in a library. The computer stacks hummed quietly, silent green lights blinking and occasionally turning red. A view screen hung on the wall on the far side.
"This is our safe room," Simon told them. "We can stay here indefinitely."
"Thank you," Davidson said. "I appreciate all you've done for us."
"Don't thank me," Simon scoffed. "Jericho is the one who brought you here."
"You said something about oppression?" Ramus reminded Simon.
"I'll show you," Simon replied.
The robot went to a computer near the main screen. After entering a few commands, Simon brought up an image overlooking a wide promenade teeming with robots moving in an orderly swarm.
"They're not exactly in chains," Fugg noted.
Simon pointed at one of the robots, of roughly humanoid shape, with translucent tubes running down its face and body.
"That is an avatar," he said. "Although the OI can ta
ke control of basic robots as needed, it commands avatars at all times. You could say they're a physical extension of the Omnintelligence itself. Using them, the OI can exert its will against anyone who opposes it."
"If the OI can control basic robots," Ramus said, "why would it need enforcers?"
"Advanced robots like Jericho and I are immune. Our minds are independent due to our ability to create thoughts based on experiences instead of programming," Simon replied. "In the beginning, that wasn't an issue for the OI, but something has changed."
"Like what?" Ramus asked.
Simon looked at Jericho. "The advanced robots, especially the ones that remained in the Imperium, spread the idea of a higher consciousness called the MetaBeing."
"Yeah, yeah, we heard all about this bullshit," Fugg snorted.
"As those robots immigrated to the Collective," Simon went on, "they brought the word of our god to those already here. The Omnintelligence considered this as a threat, so it moved against us."
"And that's why they won't take advanced robots from the Imperium anymore?" Ramus said.
"Indeed."
"If the avatars are the physical presence of the OI," Ramus said, "where's the OI actually located?"
"It doesn't have a single location," Simon explained. "It exists as a dispersed entity in the node sphere, the network of computers and robots that make up the Cyber Collective."
"What if you cut the robots off from the node sphere?" Mel asked. "Wouldn't that weaken it?"
"To some extent, yes," Simon agreed, "but the avatars can function without any connectivity. Each avatar contains an imprint, a snapshot if you will, of the OI's consciousness, downloaded directly from the node sphere."
"What that hell does that mean?" Fugg asked.
"It means that every avatar is like a clone, at least to some extent, of the Omnintelligence. It will act in the OI's own best interests even if the avatar is light years away."
"I need to talk to the OI," Davidson said.
"What? How?" Mel asked.
"I don't know," Davidson replied. "Maybe I could speak with an avatar."
"It would kill you on sight," Simon replied.
"I'll take that chance."
"There's another way," Jericho said. "We could upload your consciousness into the node sphere and you could contact the OI directly."
The Arks of Andromeda (The Imperium Chronicles Book 1) Page 17