Foundry of the Gods (Corrosive Knights Book 6)

by E. R. Torre

  Commander Meyers pointed to the view screen and Arcadia’s Displacer.

  “While Inquisitor Damien, my people, and I go down to Arcadia, you will guard the Displacer and continue your efforts to gain control over her. If we can’t get the Displacer to work for us, we will make damn certain our enemies can’t use it either. Even if it means making the supreme sacrifice to do so.”

  Inquisitor Damien and Meyers were once again in the elevator, this time heading down to the landing bay.

  “Why do you want me to accompany you to the planet?” Inquisitor Damien asked. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Meyers gave the Inquisitor a cold stare.

  “The Council doesn’t trust you.”

  “Because of Davilia?”

  “It’s more than that, Inquisitor,” Meyers said. “Independence is a commendable trait when it comes to certain actions but not all. You have a habit of showing your independence to the point where it’s become sadly predictable.”

  Inquisitor Damien stiffened. That very thought occurred to him while on Davilia.

  He said nothing more for the rest of the trip.

  Moments later the elevator doors opened and revealed the Salvo’s landing bay.

  Commander Meyers and Inquisitor Damien made their way to Meyers’ shuttle craft. The Salvo Security Officers stationed before it saluted at the arrival of Inquisitor Damien.

  “I’ll be joining Meyers and his crew,” Inquisitor Damien said. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the Security Guards said.

  They offered another salute before walking past the Inquisitor and Meyers and to the elevator.

  As they left, Commander Meyers pulled a computer tablet from his suit pocket and pressed buttons on its screen. The shuttle’s decompression door slid open while a ramp rolled down and settled on the landing pad floor. Commander Meyers motioned to it and said:

  “After you.”

  Inquisitor Damien walked up the shuttle’s ramp and stopped beside the open door. Beyond it lay the empty decompression chamber. Commander Meyers stepped past Inquisitor Damien and inside.

  “For a fearless Inquisitor, you are remarkably hesitant,” Meyers said.

  “It is wise to know the way out before venturing in.”

  Commander Meyers laughed.

  “A bit late to remember such a quote, isn’t it Inquisitor?”

  Inquisitor Damien followed Meyers into the chamber. The door leading back to the landing pad closed and sealed itself.

  The two moved through the Goliath’s decompression chamber and into its rear compartment. This proved to be a storage room. The lights were low but Inquisitor Damien’s eyes adjusted quickly. To the right and propped against a wall was what appeared to be a large metallic box. A series of buttons and a touchscreen filled the box’s side.

  Inquisitor Damien instantly recognized the box as a Hyams 3D printer. It was a new model. One very much capable of creating a Mark IV rail rifle.

  “Keep moving,” Meyers said.

  They entered the shuttle’s passenger compartment. It was incredibly large and, Inquisitor Damien knew, was only one of several compartments within the Goliath class Shuttle. There were chairs lining the sides of the corridor and, seated in them, he made out fourteen shadowy shapes.

  For a moment he thought the things propped on the chairs were statues. They had metallic features and forms along with smooth, mirrored faces. Those faces glistened in the dim lights.

  Then, one of them moved.

  Its head spun around, fluid and mechanical.

  “By the Gods,” Inquisitor Damien said.

  He wanted to run but knew he wouldn’t make it two steps before the creatures were upon him.

  Then, all fourteen of them moved in unison. Their movements mirrored each other.

  “Automated Robot Soldiers,” Inquisitor Damien said.

  “You’re familiar with ARWs?”

  “Familiar enough to know they were outlawed with the Agreement at Davos,” Inquisitor Damien said.

  “I’m impressed, Inquisitor Damien. So few know our history. Even fewer remember such vague, forgotten treaties.”

  “The agreement was meant to eliminate these… these things.”

  “The agreement was a stop gap and nothing more. Politicians doing what they do best and giving everyone a sense of temporary peace. Either side would shred that agreement the very second they felt it was to their advantage to do so.”

  “But the Epsillon Empire—”

  “You think the Epsillons would give up such perfect weapons? Everyone at Davos, our side and theirs, solemnly promised a course of action that hid these weapons from sight and nothing more.”

  “But these creatures caused so much destruction. So many deaths.”

  “Ancient history,” Meyers said.

  Inquisitor Damien took another step back. The creatures moved closer.

  “I’d remain very still if I were you,” Meyers warned him. “Your presence is causing them concern.”

  Commander Meyers approached one of the ARWs. Though they appeared very similar, this one was a little taller and its red eyes glowed brighter.

  “Unit 1, at ease,” Commander Meyers said.

  Unit 1’s blood red eyes remained on Inquisitor Damien.

  “I came to Davilia to investigate an assassination,” Damien said. “I’m sure you heard about it. Justice Grajan’s wife Janice was killed by someone who took what amounted to a perfect long range shot. I imagine ARWs are very good marksmen.”

  “Far better than any human snipers,” Commander Meyers said. “Take Unit 1. He’s our oldest unit. He’s also our best.”

  “Did that machine pull the trigger?”

  “I like it when you’re so direct,” Commander Meyers said. “But what difference does it make if it did?”

  Inquisitor Damien kept his emotions in check as best he could.

  “Your soldiers killed Janice Grajan and now the Council of Twelve is providing security for Justice Grajan and his family.”

  “Better to have a puppet than a martyr.”

  “Did the Council authorize the assassination?” Inquisitor Damien said.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny this,” Commander Meyers said. “Let’s just say everyone was happy with the outcome.”

  “Everyone but Janice Grajan and her husband.”

  “The loss of a single life is far preferable than the loss of a world’s precious minerals. Minerals used to build the warships we need to survive. Billions of lives saved against one that’s lost. A bargain.”

  “Why not deal with Justice Grajan directly?”

  “What makes you think they didn’t?” Commander Meyers said. “There were meetings and there were talks. Many, many of them. Too damn many. The end result? Nothing. If this were any other time in history, the sides might have eventually compromised. But we cannot afford to waste time, Inquisitor. The Phaecian and Epsillon Empires are on the precipice of war and, once excavated. Davilia’s ores give us enough material to build at least fifty more battleships. With that many ships added to our fleet, the Epsillons will think twice before launching an attack.”

  “You’re willing to sacrifice not only a life, but an entire world? You’ll make Davilia another Arcadia.”

  “When that time comes, the people of Davilia will find themselves another place to call home,” Commander Meyers said. “Yes, Inquisitor, the loss of one habitable world –and of one candidate’s insignificant wife– versus the survival of an Empire and her billions of citizens is a sacrifice the Council not only should make but must make.”

  Inquisitor Damien was silent.

  “If it were up to me, I’d send you to Erebus and the front lines,” Commander Meyers said. “But you’re not there and I was ordered to bring you along. It seems there are those in the Council who have invested a great deal in you. They expect you will prove yourself. I have my doubts.”

  Meyers motioned to the front of the shuttle. The two moved to the s
hip’s bridge with Unit 1 following close behind.

  The cockpit was a compact area with three seats. Two were set before the ship’s instrumentation panel and the third was just behind the pilot’s seat and meant for the navigator.

  “Take the navigator’s chair,” Meyers said.

  Meyers sat in the pilot’s seat while Unit 1 sat in the co-pilot’s. Inquisitor Damien did as told and sat in the Navigator’s chair and behind the ARW.

  Through the shuttle’s front window lay the Salvo’s landing bay.

  “Tell your people we’re ready to go,” Meyers said.

  Unit 1’s head slowly turned. The red lights on the creature’s face were upon the Inquisitor. The creature made sure he did as told and nothing else.

  Inquisitor Damien reached for his communicator’s microphone. He clicked it on and spoke.

  “This is Inquisitor Damien to Salvo. Ready to depart.”

  “You are cleared to leave,” came Lieutenant Chandler’s response. “Good luck, Inquisitor.”

  Almost every one of the landing bay’s lights dimmed. Those that remained at full power created a lighted path to the landing bay’s exit. All doors into the landing bay were sealed and air was drawn. Red lights flashed for several seconds and, once all atmosphere was removed, the red light turned green and the landing bay doors opened. Revealed before them was the darkness of outer space.

  The massive shuttle craft silently rose from her tight berth and spun around. When she faced the landing bay’s exit she moved to, then past its doors.

  Once the shuttle was outside the Salvo, the outer doors closed.

  Within the Goliath shuttle’s landing bay berth and unnoticed by everyone lay a small, gray rectangular object. It was easy to miss the object as it had the same color as the landing bay floor and appeared to be a part of the landing bay itself. It sat inches from where Meyer’s Goliath shuttle’s landing gear had only moments before rested.

  Now that the shuttle was gone, the rectangular box moved.

  It slid away from the landing pad and disappeared unnoticed into one of the bay’s many shadows.

  ACT II

  24

  The woman straightened up and ran her hand over her forehead. She wiped a layer of sweat while simultaneously leaving a swath of dirt.

  The woman was tall and muscular, standing a little over five feet seven. Her hair was dark and shoulder length. Over her eyes were a pair of heavy tinted sunglasses, a necessity while working in the sun and on this desert plain. The air around her was hazy. Until the cool winds kicked up from the east in the evening, it felt as if the heat would never go away.

  A beeping sound intruded on the silence around her and the woman reached into her shirt pocket. She produced a small transmitter and recorder. She eyed the device’s display and was surprised a full seventy two hours passed since its last use. She clicked it on:

  “This is Laverna DeCastillo and this is my latest update,” she said. “As always, I was driven to this particular hell for no particular reason.”

  A sad smile appeared on her face.

  “No, of course there was a reason. It doesn’t really matter all that much and there’s no need to waste time talking about it.”

  She adjusted the dusty, scratched headphones over her ears.

  “I’m at 17.35 by 904.2 and it’s just past 1700 hours. It’s hot as Hades, my work’s grueling, and the pay is shit. Good thing there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Once I dig up enough rusty treasures, I’ll get to go to Bordertown and unload ‘em. The next stop is Max’s Bar where I intend to get myself good and drunk and forget what kind of fucked up place I’m stuck in.”

  Laverna paused and thought of something else to say. She had nothing.

  “I hope I sound sane and whole. Again, this is Laverna DeCastillo. Signing out.”

  She shut the recorder off. Making these recordings, which were mandated and automatically uploaded to Bordertown’s Central Database, kept track of the scavengers spread out in the Desertlands. It told them you were still alive and reasonably rational.

  If you failed to make your recording, you would be flagged as at risk or, worse, potentially lost. An alert would be issued to nearby scavengers and they might, if they didn’t have anything better to do, check to see if you were still alive.

  There was just as good a chance they’d head your way to see what they could get their hands on.

  Laverna hit another button on the recorder. She listened to her previous recording.

  “My name is Laverna DeCastillo and I find myself in this particular hell for no particular reason.”

  “Original,” she muttered.

  She shut the recorder off, pocketed it, and moved on, wandering farther from her hovercycle. When she began this day’s scavenging, it was parked only a few feet away. Now, it was over a hundred yards from her. A dull green canvas blanket covered the cycle’s side. The blanket was stretched and pinned to the ground. This created a small square area of shade. Within that area was a bottle and a case of food rations. At the case’s side were metallic fragments, precious metals found during the course of the past few hours. There were very few of them and, along with those she had stored away at her camp, not nearly enough to justify that trip to Bordertown.

  Laverna walked along the ridge of a long dried out stream. Around her and as far as the eye could see lay miles and miles of flat desert land. She methodically swung the detector over its sands while listening –and hoping– for a payoff.

  After more hours of sweaty work, the evening shadows grew darker and orange twilight surrounded her. Laverna removed her sunglasses and revealed her pale brown eyes. She stared into the distance and at the setting sun.

  “Another day,” she muttered.

  She checked the bag hanging from her shoulder and mentally calculated the weight of the ores found. She sighed. Along with what lay next to her hovercycle, it didn’t amount to all that much.

  Laverna returned to the hovercycle and put her ores into a single bag. She then packed her gear and folded up the canvas blanket before mounting her hovercycle and putting on her riding jacket, gloves, and helmet.

  She drove off.

  Laverna arrived at her camp a little less than an hour later.

  It consisted of a rectangular tent built to house four. Parts of the canvas were frayed. Others were crudely stitched together to keep the dusty air out.

  Laverna parked her hovercycle and unloaded her gear. She dropped most of it next to the tent but took her bag of ores inside.

  Within the tent was a cot, a worn container box that served as a table, and a small refrigeration/cooking unit.

  Laverna set the ores on the cot and stripped off her dusty clothing. Once nude, she bent down before the container box and opened it. Within were three bottles of water. She took one of them and, reaching deeper within the unit, grabbed a folded hand towel. She poured a small amount of water on it and used the damp cloth to clean the dirt and dust from her body.

  When she was done, she rinsed the towel and hung it from a rope outside her tent. She took a sip of the water before putting the bottle away and getting dressed.

  Soon, darkness enveloped the area.

  Laverna made herself a modest meal and, after eating and cleaning up, grabbed her computer tablet, lay down on her cot, and went over the latest Empire news.

  She could barely focus on it before drowsiness took over and she put the computer away.

  The outside temperatures dropped and the heat of the day was replaced with frigid night. Now, when the winds howled, icy blasts of air forced their way into Laverna’s poorly insulated tent.

  While only a short few hours before she was sweating while walking naked around her tent, she now had to bundle up or face the risk of hypothermia.

  It wasn’t very long before what little energy remained within her was spent and Laverna surrendered to the night.

  When she awoke, Laverna felt the wear of the previous day along every inch of her bo
dy. The sun was about to rise in the eastern horizon and the night chill was gone. Laverna sat up and her heavy blanket slipped to her lap. It was covered in sweat. She ran her hands through her dark hair and, like most mornings, her face and hair were also sweaty.

  “Good fucking morning,” she said.

  She pushed the damp blanket away and stood up. Her exhausted legs protested the weight they were asked to carry but she shook it off while rubbing her arms.

  “You’re too young to be falling apart,” she muttered.

  She walked to the tent’s entrance and unzipped it. A blast of hot air blew inside. In the far east, the sun broke over the desert plain. Laverna pulled down the hand towel she hung the night before and placed it in the container box. She then walked back to the wet blankets. It was their turn to be spread out and allowed to dry.

  “Another day in paradise,” Laverna said.

  It was time to get back to work.

  For days, months, and years Laverna followed her usual work routine.

  This particular morning she got lucky and found a couple of larger nuggets. She hoped this was a sign of things to come but, as the day progressed, she found little else and still not enough to justify a trip back to Bordertown and Max’s Bar.

  Laverna frowned.

  Years of frustrations swarmed through her mind. Her supplies were running low and she needed to get back to town to restock. Yet the trip would eat too much of her earnings. She’d be able to re-stock but didn’t have enough for even a couple of hours in Max’s Bar.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  Whether she wanted to or not, she’d need to head back to town soon. The power cell in her hovercycle was well past its prime and a couple of months back lost the ability to quickly re-charge in the sun. Laverna was careful not to drive around much and give the power cell all the sun it could take. As careful as she was, the power cell was getting progressively worse. The next time she traveled to Bordertown she’d need to either get it fixed or replaced.

  And that, of course, also ate into whatever money she could use in Max’s Bar.