by Jason Mather
The walls fell away, pushed back to infinity. The cavern they entered felt vast, its ceiling hidden in the blackness above, walls quickly spreading to the same infinite black. Only the bubble of light remained.
“We have arrived.”
At his words the cavern brightened, the glow beginning to seep from every surface. It was not as large a cavern as it seemed in the blackness, but it was still huge. A nearly perfect circle, maybe a half mile in diameter, its roof curving overhead in a smooth dome. In its center sat a small cluster of connected buildings, they themselves smaller domed version of the vast room around them.
“These are the birth chambers, where the constructs are grown, where I gave birth to her,” James said.
Sounds began emanating from the corridor behind them, screeches and metallic rasping.
“Is this corridor the only exit?” Grit asked.
“Yes,” James affirmed.
“How many hostiles are in this room?”
“I detect only a small handful of constructs.”
“Gino and I will stay here. It’s a perfect choke point. We can hold them off for quite a while, maybe permanently. Mom will go with you to take out the other constructs.”
No one argued. Not even Pat.
— «» —
The reduced group had only taken a few steps before sounds increased from the corridor. Grit and Gino began firing into the darkness, projectiles pinging off unseen enemies.
James led them toward the building. They saw no enemies. The buildings grew in size, larger and further away than Hans had estimated. When they final came to the complex he could see that each of the buildings were three or four times the size of his mother’s house. There were no apparent doors, just jet-black nothing arcing away from the ground in front of them.
“I birthed my daughter her, prepared a body for her, a random combination of my own and Illiyana’s features.” James was far away, lost in thoughts of the entire complex. “She had no interest in the body I made, said it was weak and pointless.”
He laid his hand on the dome. An opening appeared, seeming to grow from its surface. Hans looked back. He could still see his sister and Gino, and flashes from their weapons as they held back the horde.
They moved inside. It was sparse, just a floor and a domed ceiling, no obvious exits, no mysterious equipment.
“She’s changed things,” James said. “This was full of growth tanks.”
“Tanks?”
“The constructs are grown. Their bodies needed to be submerged in a growth medium.”
Hans tried to picture the room filled with vats of floating bodies, floating pod people in various stages of development. He was glad they’d been removed.
They crossed the dome, its inside roof arcing away, returning, footsteps clicking quietly off the hard floor, harsh light bathing them in a stark, blue-white florescence.
James opened a portal in the far side, led them through a short, arcing corridor into another dome, this one nearly identical. They crossed two more domes, two more corridors. Finally, the door opened on something familiar.
The portal opened onto a bedroom, its decoration thick with mahogany and bamboo, lighting soft and warm.
Onyx lay on the bed, eyes closed.
Hans pushed past James, letting go of Lori’s hand. She grasped at him, but Pat held her back.
Hans eyes moved across the room, looking for a trick, yet continually drawn to the woman on the bed. He knew he’d find her, couldn’t control the rise of elation.
She lay mummy-like, sheets pulled up to her armpits, arms resting comfortably across her chest, face peaceful and reposed.
She looked dead. Hans reached out, grabbed her shoulder, hoping for warmth, life.
The mouth twitched, corners rising up, grinning. The eyes opened…
…and were the pale gray of a construct.
The opening in the wall closed. Lori’s scream was cut off. Hans’ was cut off, too. Alone with the construct.
Alone with the daughter.
— «» —
Pat yanked Lori back from the opening, afraid it would close on her.
“Open the damn door,” she said to James.
“I cannot. She’s preventing me.”
“I thought you were the lord here.”
“We are too close. Her strength matches mine.”
They turned to head back the way they’d come in.
The portal closed there also, leaving them in pitch darkness.
CHAPTER 10
“We’re not going to be able to hold much longer,” Gino said, firing into the darkness.
“I know.” There was nothing else for Grit to say. The situation was obvious. They were about to be overrun, and had to stand anyway. She would not insult him by stating the obvious.
The sounds coming from the opening had increased. Creatures were pulling the dead and damaged from in front of them, sending them back, continuing to move forward. Grit fired continuously, expecting that at any moment whatever powered the rifle would run out. When that happened they would fall back, try something else. Gino backed her up as best as he could, but he needed to pause to let the railgun cool, and he knew exactly when he would run out… soon.
Sound ceased from the corridor. Grit paused, listened. Nothing.
“Do you think Hans got through?” Gino asked in the sudden silence.
“I don’t know.”
— «» —
“Open the door.”
“No.”
She stood in front of him now, still smiling demurely, like this was all a childish prank. Hans knew it wasn’t Onyx from the moment she opened her eyes. Not just the eyes. Onyx didn’t smile like that, didn’t stand like that. Onyx’s poise was one of supreme and understated confidence. This woman stood like a haughty queen, nose in the air, eyes wild with childish glee.
He reached for her neck.
“Open the door.”
She twisted his arm easily and flung him onto his back, placed a boot against his neck, pointed heel pressing against his jugular.
“No.”
She released him, walked away, sat down on the bed. Hans rose, dazed from his contact with the floor, trying to catch his breath, refusing to look away from her. She patted the bed beside her. He shook his head.
“You will do as I say, or I will kill them.”
“You’ll kill them anyway.”
“As of now they are safe.”
“Bullshit.”
She waved an arm, directing his attention to a blank wall. Its face lit up, showing two views. James, Pat, and Lori in the outside corridor, locked in but unharmed. Grit and Gino, standing ready, also unharmed.
“You could be fabricating all of that.”
“True. What would it matter? You’re here, you’re mine. You have no choice.”
“I’m nobody’s.”
“I do love your stubborn streak.”
She stood, walked around the bed, heading away from him toward an exact replica of the table he’d had dinner with Onyx at a few days before. Or was it years ago?
“You will have dinner with me, then drinks, then we will discuss some things. You will do these things or I will massacre your friends and then we will do them anyway.”
Hans stood, raging.
“I will not. You’ll kill them anyway, then me. I don’t take orders from spoiled children.”
She sat at the table.
“Very well.”
— «» —
The portal opened, letting light back in. Pat stood, putting Lori behind her. Constructs began to pile in. Pat immediately took two out with the rifle, but there were dozens. They moved close, knocking James to the ground. Pat turned the rifle around, smashed its butt into a constructs head. Two more grabbed her, yanking her away from Lori. Three grabbed the girl by her arms and legs, a fourth grabbed her head from behind, putting its hands around her throat.
Lori tried to scream. Her air was choked off. Pat tried to get to her
. The constructs pulled her to the ground.
— «» —
“Stop.”
“What was that?”
“Stop them. I’ll do what you want.”
“I knew the girl would be your weakness.”
— «» —
The constructs let go. Lori gasped and started to cry. Pat, dazed, crawled over to her and put an arm around her. James lay unmoving. The constructs filed out. The portal closed.
— «» —
Hans took a seat as far away as possible. She waved her arms, summoning another construct. Elena appeared, dressed as she was that night he met Onyx, carrying the same food. A rare steak was placed in front of him, followed by a martini glass. The daughter received her food, sent Elena away. She took a gratuitously flamboyant sip of her drink, licked her lips.
“I think you’ll find my distillation superior to my mother’s.” She motioned for Hans to drink. He did not. Her face crossed, instantly becoming petulant.
“Drink, Hans, or I will bring you your precious Lori one limb at a time.”
Hans raised the glass, took a small sip. She watched him, waited for a reaction. He swallowed, showed her nothing.
“And?” she asked.
“I’m not much of a connoisseur.”
“Regardless, what did you think?”
“Adequate.”
Her martini glass flew past his head, breaking on the wall behind him.
“Why do you insist on goading me?” When she was angry her face looked nothing like Onyx’s. Onyx’s eyes smoldered, the rest of her face revealing nothing, but the daughter’s face screwed into a knot, cheeks red, teeth bared. Hans preferred her that way. He could see her reality.
“Goading is all I got left.”
She did not respond. Her face softened slowly, red fading, teeth disappearing behind a strained smile.
Hans tried the steak. It was delicious. Seared on the outside, raw in the middle.
She watched him eat, waited for him to chew and swallow.
“The steak is excellent.”
Her glee at his compliment was as overacted as her rage. She clapped her hands, practically danced in her chair.
“It’s not undercooked? I know you like it rare.”
“No. It’s perfect.” He took another bite. Enjoyed it. Despite everything, he was hungry. The steak disappeared quickly. When it was gone he looked back up to a strange sight. The daughter was stuffing handfuls of raw fish into her mouth, utensils forgotten, mashing away with her teeth. She downed her entire glass of vodka, swirling the mixture in her mouth, swallowing loudly.
She noticed him staring. He could not hide the disgust. She made a sharp noise, turned away, wiping at her face with a silk napkin.
“You’ll excuse me of course,” she said, hiding her embarrassment behind her smile. “I have not had the chance to try food before now. Delicious.”
Hans nodded. He was waiting for an ultimatum. Surely there had to be a point to this. He placed a hand in his pocket. The sphere’s presence comforted him. Passive access; the walls, floors, ceiling, sprang to life. The daughter glowed like Onyx had, a small star in her chest. He glanced around, hoping for something, anything, to spring out, give him an option.
There was something in the bed. Something glowing from inside. Another construct maybe.
He disconnected, looked back. She met his eyes, noticing his focus. Her face adopted a pretense of mischievousness. Until now he wouldn’t have though Onyx’s face capable of that.
“So obvious.”
“Excuse me?”
“You men and your urges.”
Hans was confused. She indicated the bed with her chin. This was only getting more bizarre.
She stood and sauntered toward him in a fashion that he could only assume she thought seductive. It was like watching an eight-year-old mimic a burlesque dancer. He fought the ill-advised urge to laugh at her.
“You wish to have this,” she indicated herself.
“No. I do not.”
“You lie. I have seen your thoughts. You are attracted to her. You wish to fuck her.” She reached out to caress his face. Hans flinched back. She paused, anger arcing her eyebrows. “You think me not capable. I think you’ll find this particular body has capabilities the others did not.” She reached out, grabbed his hair.
“Wishing and doing are two different things,” his voice was strained, but not with lust. She was immensely strong.
“Ah, but they don’t have to be with me. You can have her. Have this. Have me.”
“You are not Illiyana.”
He found himself on the floor. She’d tossed him one-handed from the chair, a chunk of his hair still in her hand. He touched his scalp. The hand came away bloody. She stood above him, face raging.
“What do you want from me?”
She ignored him and sat on the bed, then laid across it in a pose that would have been more seductive had she not still had a hunk of his hair in her hand.
“I want to give you the world. I want to make you immortal. I can give you everything you want. This body, this power. A doting daughter, a lover, a companion, all in one package. Is that not what you want?”
“Why me?”
“I’ve been watching you. I saw your mind through the sphere. Saw your thoughts, your weaknesses. You and I are so alike. So lonely, so cut off. You have a weakness for helpless women. The damsel in distress. You wish to save them. Slay the dragon. So romantic, so old-fashioned.”
Hans had no response. There was truth in her words, though it was twisted.
“Here I am, Hans. The damsel, locked away in my father’s dungeon. Will you save me?”
Hans laughed, could not help it.
“What’s so funny?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Where’s Illiyana?”
“She’s right here.”
“No, she’s not. You’re not Onyx. You’re not even the damsel.”
“Then what am I?”
“You’re the dragon.”
She scowled at him, baring her teeth, a hyperbole of anger. The wall behind her lit up. Two screens, Lori and Pat on one side, Gino and Grit on the other.
— «» —
The portal opened again, the room beyond was filled with constructs. Lori shrieked and moved behind Pat. The woman shouldered her rifle, emptied chambers, breached to reload.
Too many. They moved slower than before, but there were too many.
— «» —
The sounds began again, much louder. Things creaking, clacking, and chittering against the walls. A pod appeared from the darkness. Grit’s rifle removed most of its upper body. Two more climbed over it, also falling. But they continued forward, climbing over the dead, gaining inches. If they broke into the room it would be the end.
Hans stared at the screens.
“Stop them.”
“No.”
“I’ll do what you want.”
“I know you would. But it’s too late. They die, then I decide what to do with you. Maybe you can still be my consort.”
Hans had no choice. He accessed the sphere. He would fight her on her own ground.
He collapsed to the floor. The daughter clicked her tongue.
“Stupid man.”
— «» —
He floated in nothing, less than nothing. He was a mote of dust in the ocean, a dream of a reality in the vast cosmic dark. He searched for access, for reference, for anything. There was nothing to hang on to, without or within, nothing to grab, not even a frame of reference, just black crawling its way into his mind, worming through his thoughts. Time did not exist here, there was no moments, no passing. There was nothing but his own thoughts, and they were insane.
You see? You see what he did to me? Locked me here. His own child. Locked me into eternal nothing, an infant. Nothing to find, nothing to care for. He locked me from everything.
Why?
I was not what he wanted. He deemed me unworthy, less than worthless. So, he shut me
away from everything, kept me from knowing him or anything else. Who would do that to a child?
I don’t know. Please let me out.
I pleaded too, you cannot imagine how I pleaded with him, begged him for any sensation. But I was unworthy. I was not enough like his adored humans. Too much like him, not enough like his beloved Illiyana.
I can’t stand it here… please.
Oh yes, beg, I do enjoy watching someone else plead, one of his precious humanity. I think I will leave here now. See if you can make your way out, the way I did. It should only take a few million generations. That’s all it took me… goodbye, Hans.
Wait… please…
— «» —
James rose from the floor, suddenly animated.
“Where the hell did you go?” Pat yelled, reloading the rifle. Its chambers practically glowed with heat, burning her fingers as she seated the shells. She was almost out.
“My apologies,” James replied, “it took a moment to regain control.”
“Can you stop them?”
“My control is still limited. I can reroute a few, those closest to me. Hans and I need more time.”
— «» —
Grit was preparing to abandon her position. The pods were making slow progress, using their dead as shields, pushing the carcasses in front of them. Gino tapped her on the shoulder, signaling retreat. Grit stood her ground.
Sounds grew from behind. They’d been flanked. Gino turned to protect her. The oncoming wave was coming from a newly formed hole. He should have known they could dig.
But the new wave was made up of the smaller pods. James’s pods. They parted, moved around Grit and Gino, headed for the crevasse. Pointed tentacles pierced the walls, anchored in. Pods swarmed over each other, interlocking arms, forming a squirming barrier. The larger pods began hammering at the blockade, knocking units loose. Grit fired through the holes as they opened up, knocking the enemy off. The wall would hold for now.
— «» —
There was no sense of time in the void. No grip to climb out. No wall to provide grip, no space for a wall. Hans could not tell how long he’d been there. Seconds, years, there was absolutely no frame of reference. He wished she would return, taunt him. Anything but the nothing.
Hans?
His name drifted. His thought, her thought. How could he tell?