by Peter Newman
It has been a long time since she sat here. Too long. Her senses are no longer attuned to the screens in the way they were and ocular fitness has gone.
Massassi tuts at herself. She is losing her edge. And that should be fine! Alpha should have more than enough edge to carry them all, and Beta should be enough to stop it cutting too deep.
She is confident in her new creations but not confident enough to rest. After a time of recovery, she has come to check on their progress, to make sure that they are getting things right.
So far the numbers are not quite what she was hoping for.
Certainly there have been fewer deaths since Beta joined his brother. Indeed, the Empire is functional, stable. It is not getting worse but neither is it getting better.
There seems to be something missing. Massassi cannot put her finger on why, but her creations lack spark and innovation. It also bothers her that they are both cast in male forms. Should she not leave something closer to her own image behind as well?
An uncommon sensation runs through her at the thought, that of doubt. She is aware that it has taken longer to recover from Beta’s making than it did for Alpha’s. She is getting weaker. With each new creation, there is less of her own essence to draw upon.
Nonetheless, once she has had the idea of making something new, it will not leave her. It nags her as she endures her daily treatments, bothers her as she attends to the latest overview reports from Peace-Fifteen, and forbids her from getting any meaningful sleep. The next day, less than twenty- four hours later, she is standing in her workshop, weary limbs supported by a slender exoskeleton, Beta to her left and Alpha to her right.
She senses their excitement and curiosity. It mirrors her own. They do not ask what she is doing and she does not explain. They love her without question. It is far more than mortal love, for Alpha and Beta have powers like hers and their emotions are tangible things that change the world around them. Their loving attention is a force so powerful that Massassi feels her aches lighten.
Without preamble, she commences her next great work. With Alpha she sought perfection, with Beta she tried to capture wisdom and practicality. Now she tries for something less defined, the desire to strive for more, a replica of her will.
A female form takes shape under her hammer. Broad shouldered and winged like her brothers but curving differently at the chest and hips. The face is modelled after her own though even Massassi admits that this is an artist’s rendition, flattering, based on a nostalgic memory of younger features.
She gives the body a sword to match Alpha’s and then stops.
There is a nagging feeling of something not being quite right and she is too tired to identify it. It can wait till tomorrow.
Alpha and Beta walk beside her, patient, as she shuffles back to her bed.
The next day finds Massassi just as tired, her body sluggish, her mood black. Fresh eyes find nothing wrong with the previous day’s work, in fact she is pleased. She asks Alpha and Beta for their opinion and both agree it is flawless. Of course, to them everything Massassi does is flawless. They are incapable of seeing otherwise.
Satisfied that all is ready, and resigned to the fact that she is not going to feel any better no matter how long she waits, Massassi raises her metal arm. Alpha and Beta lift the platform that she stands on, bringing her within easy reach of the statue’s silver head. The iris in Massassi’s palm opens and she presses it to the inert face.
The plan is to imbue the creation with drive and ambition, a lack of satisfaction that will not allow rest or slothfulness. But as the essence begins to flow, she finds other feelings taking over. Unbidden, thoughts of her life float to the surface, of the way she was used as a child, worked hard without care for her safety or sanity. This world she works to save is a bitter one, an ungrateful one. And she is angry, so, so angry!
That rage courses through her new creation, flooding through the sword to the body and back, like a river bursting the walls of a dam. Massassi cannot stop it, her essence seeming to move with a will of its own, filling the shell to the brim until it radiates such heat that the air shimmers and bends.
Three eyes open, sudden, and Massassi is repulsed by what she sees, stumbling back into Alpha’s ready arms. It is like looking at a younger perfect version of herself and it is too painful.
Gamma’s eyes are sky-blue like Alpha’s but hers are colder, a mirror of Massassi’s disapproval.
Where Alpha and Beta’s love is bolstering, Gamma’s stare is like a stab in the face, a voice shouting that she should have done better.
She turns her head away, letting it rest on Alpha’s chest, and instantly regrets it, knowing the gesture to be weak and knowing that Gamma will see it. The trouble is she feels weak, weak and empty. Rage has driven her through years of adversity and now it has gone into Gamma, leaving only a faint shadow behind.
That is what she is becoming, she realizes, a shadow. A watermark where once there was an ocean.
‘This,’ she croaks, ‘is your sister, Gamma.’
At the sound of her name, Gamma steps forward, bending down so that her lips can move close to Massassi’s ear.
‘Get up, creator,’ she says, her voice as hard as the blade she carries. ‘There is more to do.’
CHAPTER NINE
Vesper walks back and forth as she talks. The buck follows her, contrite.
Samael and Scout watch them, listening. They are packed and ready to go, only waiting on Neer’s return before they make their move. They have been waiting for some time now.
‘This was a mistake,’ she says. ‘I’ve made myself reliant on the First. Maybe we should have stayed on The Com-mander’s Rest.’
‘We could leave.’
‘No, we won’t get to the meeting place in time. There’s still a lot to organize and even Genner can’t do everything without me.’
‘Do you want me to find out how long they’ll be?’
Vesper grimaces. ‘No, it will make us look weak, and Neer will only get cranky. You know how difficult she can be.’
‘Yes. But she’s fond of me.’
She stops walking, looks at Samael. ‘She does a good job of hiding it!’
‘Not to my eyes. The Malice would show you the same, I’m sure.’
‘Yes but she’s my friend. It feels wrong to use it on her.’
‘She has no such compunctions. The Malice is as much a part of you as Neer’s implanted eyes are of her. I don’t see the difference.’
‘The difference is me. I’m not Neer. I have to do what feels right. Besides, if the sword thinks there’s a problem, it will tell me. And if it doesn’t, I’ve got you.’
Samael nods and Scout’s tail wags happily.
‘On second thoughts, go and tell them to be ready to leave, we’ve waited long enough.’
Samael is not gone long. When he returns, Neer is with him.
‘Well,’ she says, ‘the First needs to work on his small talk but I have to admit, he makes a good case.’ At Vesper’s worried expression, she tuts. ‘Do I need to spell it out to you? I’ve been convinced to help.’
‘You’re coming with us?’
‘Eventually. The First will take you where you need to go while the rest of it comes here to help with my travel arrangements. This body doesn’t travel easily anymore and there’s a lot to move, and if we’re going to get it right there’s a lot to do … but I think we’ll be in time for your gathering.’
‘That’s good. Wonderland has its place at these talks as much as any of the other settlements.’ She pauses. ‘Neer, what kind of deal did you make with the First?’
Green eyes narrow. ‘A private one.’
‘You haven’t given away too much, have you? It drives a hard bargain.’
Neer’s body goes rigid and she grabs at the nearest wall, shaking. It takes Vesper a few moments to realize she’s laughing.
‘Oh! Oh that’s priceless!’
‘What is?’
‘You, trying to g
ive me advice about being naive!’ The laughter stops and Neer’s eyes narrow again. ‘You don’t need to teach me about the world, girl. I’ve been on it a damn sight longer than you. As for me and the First, I’ll just say that we have an agreement and it’ll see us both happy.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Hope is for the weak and stupid. I don’t need hope and nor should you. Now, you better get going. The First is waiting for you at the sky-ship.’
Vesper gives Neer a careful hug, making the older woman grunt in surprise. ‘Just be careful, okay?’
‘Don’t worry about me. Worry about uniting the south and getting them ready for war. I haven’t spent all these years preserving the Necroneer’s art and keeping the survivors of this city alive, only to have some damn fool immortals come and tear it all down.’
With only two of the First’s bodies making this leg of the journey, the sky-ship seems spacious. Neither Vesper nor Samael appreciate the difference as they are both stuffed into the cockpit, leaving the entirety of the hold for Scout and the buck to enjoy.
‘We’re nearly there,’ explains Vesper, pointing into the distance. ‘Crucible. I can’t wait to see how it’s changed since my last visit.’
‘You are excited?’ asks the First.
‘Yes. This is where we’re going to start really changing things.’
Muddy fields rush along beneath them, rich soil so tainted that plants explode from it overnight, full grown, only to die again by day’s end.
Birds with brown bodies and orange wings flock down to steal seeds, unaware that they are taking on the indigestible: passengers that wait for a few hours before burrowing up into avian brains.
Beyond the fields is a valley, and in the valley is a huge dome, sitting like an eye in a socket. The top curves up above the valley, allowing those inside a view of the surrounding countryside. Silver struts form the skeleton of the dome, transparent plasglass revealing circular rings inside, each one a platform for visitors to stand on, each joined by walkways to a large stage deep within.
Figures crawl over the structure both inside and out, locking panels into place, connecting fittings, attaching doors.
The sky-ship makes a single pass over the dome and then comes down to land next to the valley.
Engines power down and a hatch opens, allowing Vesper to climb out. She sees someone is already running over. A slim man in black, a silver eye at his collar, his hair a sprouting bush of greying red. Her lifelong friend, her rock. At the sight of him, a little of her stress eases.
‘Genner!’ she shouts, waving.
The man stops and salutes. ‘Vesper?’
‘Yes! Who else were you expecting?’
The gun that had been quietly drawn is palmed and slipped away. ‘The sky-ship, it isn’t one of ours. I’d expected to see an infernal face, not yours.’ He smiles. ‘A nice surprise for once!’
She jumps down to join him. ‘I’ve got more for you but you’re not going to like it.’
‘Understood.’
‘But first, tell me how it’s going here.’
Genner gestures back towards the dome. ‘Construction of the main structure is nearly complete. We’re watertight, airtight, and all of the section seals are active. There’s a lot of work to do inside. Not on our sections, we could have the gel installed and shaped in half a day, but some of the other delegations have … requirements.’
‘It’s important that they feel comfortable here.’
‘Comfort I understand, but carcasses? The leader of the Boneweavers wants dead animals in their section. Isn’t that a bit much?’
Vesper shakes her head. ‘No. This way we’re saying that everyone is equally valued. If we furnish it like an imperial base, then it’ll look like the Empire is running things. I want people to feel on equal footing.’
Genner’s expression cools as Samael climbs from the sky-ship. It cools still further when Scout follows. ‘I take it he isn’t the surprise?’
‘No.’
The smooth black helmet of the First rises from the hatch.
Genner nods. ‘You did it then. You said you were going to but I never quite believed it.’
The First jumps to land lightly beside them. It looks at Genner. ‘I know you.’
Genner looks back at the featurless visor only for a moment before turning away. ‘I’m sorry, Vesper. I can’t do this, not yet.’
Vesper watches him walk back towards the dome and bites her lip. ‘That was bad timing,’ she says to the First.
‘He does not like me. He finds my presence troubling.’
‘Of course he does! You held him prisoner and interrogated him!’
‘That is one … possibility.’
She sighs. ‘For now, just keep your distance, okay? I’ll talk to him.’
‘For now, I will comply with your wishes.’
‘Good.’
Behind her, the buck hops out and begins sniffing at the local flora.
‘What about me?’ asks Samael.
She bites her lip again. ‘Best that you stay here as well, until I’ve broken the news.’
He nods. ‘Good luck.’
She walks away, steps slowing as she considers her approach. Genner has not gone far. He stands at the top of the valley, looking down at the dome and the crews suspended by cables at various points on its curve.
‘As soon as I saw the sky-ship I suspected it was here,’ he says, gaze still fixed below. ‘You’d told me what you had in mind. It’s not like it was unexpected.’ He pauses. ‘But when I saw the First again, actually saw it with my own eyes I … I found I wasn’t ready. I submit myself to your judgement.’
Vesper shakes her head. ‘Don’t talk like that. I’m not angry with you. In fact, I wanted to apologize to you.’
‘To me?’
‘Yes, for putting you in an impossible position, and I don’t mean with the First.’
He listens as she explains the situation with The Seven, that they are coming for her, to destroy her dream of a new world before it can begin, and that, if he stands with her, he will be branded a traitor to the Empire he loves. As she talks an eye opens slightly at her shoulder, regarding the man through a slit.
‘It’s okay,’ he says before she can finish. ‘I already know about The Seven.’
She gawps at him. ‘You do?’
‘I’d be a poor Lens if I didn’t.’ He stops a moment, choosing his words with care. ‘I wish things could be different, I really do, but my place is here and I’ll do my duty, no matter the cost.’
‘Thank you,’ she says, warm. ‘I don’t know if I could do this without you.’
Cheeks pale and he nods. ‘You don’t need me, Vesper, not any more. You’ve come a long way from the little girl I met on the hill all those years ago.’
Neither speak for a moment, a tension rising between them. Vesper is aware of how close he is, that it would be so easy to reach out and touch him. Meanwhile, an eye continues to stare, suspicious.
Eventually, Vesper clears her throat. ‘I want you to know that I’m going to try and talk to The Seven when they get here. If there’s any way to avoid bloodshed, I’ll take it. That said, we need to be prepared for a fight. And for that I need a strategist. I need you.’
‘It’s hard to plan when we don’t know what kind of army we’ll have.’
‘Do we know what kind of army we’ll face?’
Genner nods. ‘There’s no sea access here so we can assume they’ll offload vehicles and troops at the coast and travel overland the rest of the way. Alpha’s palace will be with them so they’ll have a base to launch artillery and maintain their sky-ships.
‘If we create a good defensive position, I can see us holding against their army, and I know we have some sky-ships of our own to field against the Empire’s. But if Alpha commits His palace to the fight, I don’t see how we can hope to counter that. To be honest, your best chance is to scatter. They’d have to spend years hunting you down and might never find you at
all.’
Vesper frowns. ‘That isn’t good enough. If we break here, they’ll pick us off one by one. Our only hope is to stand together.’
‘Do you think that’s possible? I’ve seen the files, and most of these people are used to being in charge. Peace talks are one thing but when the time comes to fight, and it will, what makes you think they’ll listen to you?’
‘I’ll worry about that. You worry about the sky palace.’ He nods. ‘I want options, Genner.’
He nods again, not meeting her eyes.
Vesper stands at the bottom of the valley, the dome at her back. Samael is at her right shoulder, the First at her left. The buck has taken up a dramatic pose halfway up the valley wall.
Entering the valley are a group of Usurperkin, half-breeds made massive by the Usurper’s tainted touch. A mix of male and female, they run with abandon, like dogs let off the leash. Each one is nearly twice Vesper’s size, each of their biceps a match for her head.
She leans closer to the First, keeping her voice low as the green-skinned giants approach. ‘I thought the Usurperkin were getting smaller with each generation.’
‘This is true. The Thousand Nails are the … exception. That is why I asked them to come.’
Many of the Usurperkin are armoured. Plating taken from vehicles, beaten into submission and fastened to their skin. Most carry mêlée weapons though a few have steel bows and one carries a harpoon gun ripped from the deck of a ship.
Their leader is not the largest of them but she is by no means small. A plate of black iron has been riveted to her forehead, sloping back from her blunt nose, as if her face were a ramp. Scars peek out from round the edges, hinting at ancient injuries.
She stabs twelve foot of pipe into the ground. Attached to the top is a flag, a simple sketch of a skull, green, with nails for teeth. ‘We here,’ she announces, gruff.
‘Yes,’ agrees Vesper. ‘Welcome to Crucible. I’m Vesper and this—’