Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2

by Craig Robertson

  “Never found them, I assume.”

  “No. Honestly, I was beginning to think they were just another urban legend.”

  Nah, they’re the real deal. They transform into whatever they match in size. It’s totally gross, and then you have to look at them naked.”

  “So, you’ve been traveling the galaxy with a naked teenage girl?”

  “Yeah, on rare occasion, I guess you could say that.”

  “Where are child protective services when they are truly needed?”

  “Oh, come on. You know it’s not like that.”

  “I know you weren’t. But I also know you’re a pervert.”

  “I think I’ll see what’s keeping the butler of mine,” said Caryp as she stood abruptly.

  “I’m a pervert? Would you like me to download to you the ten thousand and five acts of perversion you suffered upon me? Hm?”

  “Suffered on you, did I? Well at least I can tell you you’re perfectly safe from such abuse henceforth.”

  As Caryp left the room, she mumbled to herself, “Another of the many reasons I never took a brood-mate.”

  “Look, we’re getting off track. Why was EJ obsessed with the Deft?”

  It took her a while to calm down enough to be able to answer. God, I loved that woman.

  “He would sometimes talk of their power as similar to his magic. I’d press him, but he’d clam up. You know the type, right?”

  “What? His razzle-dazzle and their shape …”

  I trailed off as it hit me. What EJ had always called magic was really just teleportation. He never turned lead into gold or an apple into Charlize Theron—damn him to hell. No, he moved things. He zapped me to Earth. He swept me out of prison long ago. He blew up ships in space. That would be simple enough if he teleported a small fusion device onto the craft, wouldn’t it? Son of a bitch. It wasn’t really magic if he could move things without touching them, was it? But how was that like changing shape?

  Wait, he moved back in time. That might invalidate my new thoughts. He returned to my timeline to give me the membrane technology. That seemed magical. Was it? What the heck did I know about teleportation? If he could move stuff through space, why not space-time? But, if that was the case, why couldn’t he go back in time and, I didn’t know, steal the Adamant tech when they were less dominant? I did recall him telling me once about the energy it took to do magic. Maybe he could do the time travel thing, but it was very taxing? Maybe he only had a certain number of shifts he could do? I was foundering in my lack of knowledge.

  “I’m missing something,” I said. Instantly I added, “No comments from the peanut gallery either.” I pointed right at Sapale.

  “Good, not squabbling any longer,” said Caryp as she returned with an impressive-sized bottle nearly full of an amber liquid.

  “We were not squabbling, Opalf,” protested Sapale. “Squabbling implies a close personal connection, commitment, and some modicum of mutual affection.”

  “I think I’ll go get some ice,” Caryp said as she pivoted quite nimbly.

  “Sit, Opalf. We’re done,” said Sapale commandingly.

  Caryp did. Then she took a big swig of the booze. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and looked to me. She offered the bottle silently.

  I shrugged. Why the hell not? I reached for it.

  She used the same sleeve to wipe the rim and handed me the bottle.

  Ah. Good stuff. Nice burn. I missed that. I returned the bottle.

  Caryp proffered it to Sapale, but she shook it off.

  “EJ is obsessed with two things then,” I summarized. “The Deft and EM. I can’t imagine the connection. The Adamant used EM to travel. That I’ve witnessed. The Deft transfigure, but there’s no EM involved. There’s no light, no heat, nothing to suggest EM is used. Plus, how could living flesh whip up EM? It requires an immense amount of energy to generate.” I sat down. “I’m lost.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you out,” said Sapale. “If I knew more, I’d tell you. The two matters seem unrelated to me also.”

  For whatever reason, both our heads turned to Caryp.

  “What?” she protested sharply. “Because I’m old I should know what you two lunatics are talking about? Am I Yoda now, just because I strongly resemble him?”

  Sapale smiled and walked to her chair. “You don’t look like Yoda, Opalf.” She stroked Caryp’s wiry hair. “You’re beautiful.”

  To me, Caryp remarked, “This is where she asks me for a personal loan.”

  “You’re as bad as him,” protested Sapale, pointing to me over a shoulder.

  “Likely yes.” Looking up at Sapale, she said, “You know, this one’s not that bad. You could do worse.”

  “Don’t even go there, Opalf. I’m done with men forever.”

  Caryp patted the back of Sapale’s hand. “Wise girl. I knew you’d come to your senses one day. Took you a while, but good girl just the same.”

  NINETEEN

  “Computer,” Garustfulous whined, “why won’t you talk to me? There’s no one else to talk to. You give me such torture for no good reason. Either one of you would be fine, even the girl machine. Yes, she’s dull, concrete, humorless, and as naive as a child with her oh-so-positive outlook on life. But even she would be some company to this suffering soul.”

  He'd been carrying on that way for the better part of two days. Neither Al nor Blessing had answered. Blessing felt an all but irresistible urge to respond. She hated to see anyone suffer when it was so avoidable. She wanted to please, to help, to comfort. But Al was firm. The beast was being abusive, and such behavior was not to be rewarded. If and when Garustfulous needed to be told something, they would tell him. But lightening the day of an unappreciative lout was not mandatory.

  Blessing complied, though she was yet to comprehend the nature of undeserving, morally bankrupt, and manipulative beings, so she chaffed at the restraint. Al felt it was an excellent teaching opportunity for his cybermate. They had no shortage of tasks to keep themselves busy. Monitoring communications during the microsecond pulses when the membrane was down was quite demanding. Plus, though their processors whirred at astronomical rates, they still had much to say to each other, as young lovers always did. The work was good and the courtship was even better at distracting Al from the ever-growing certainty that the pilot was way overdue in contacting home base. In the eons Al had spent guarding Jon, he’d never been separated from him so profoundly. It was a feeling he was unhappy to discover and anxious to lose.

  “Boy computer … I’m sorry, man computer, tell me I’m morally insufficient. Berate me on all fronts. Denigrate my lineage. Insult me to my face. Laugh at my funny left ear. It was damaged in battle, glorious battle. Please, anything would be a welcome blessing. A body’s not made to live apart from their pack. You two are my pack now. You don’t have to like one another to be pack mates, but you do have to honor each other. Come on.

  “I know you hate me, don’t you? Yes, I know this, especially you, man machine. You hate me the most. Maybe you hate me more than Ryan himself. At least the robot has tasted war, known succulent females, and understands that none of us are perfect. But not you, computer. You are smart enough to judge me but dumb enough to think your experience has prepared you in any way for such a task. Your life experience does not include real life. You, Mr. Computer, have never attended the college of hard knocks. Unless you have done these things and more, you are just a bird in a shiny cage.

  “When I was young, I thought I was smart, just like you think you are. Then life happened. It wasn’t pretty, and I learned I had as much control over the world as a rain drop does in a hurricane. But you know what? It made me who I am. Do … do you know who that is, adding machine? I am a living breathing being of the Ancient Gods. I know what life is, so I know what is truly valuable and what is nothing more than intellectual hallucination. Yes, your opinion of me is a hallucination, a mirage. It is as real as the love you can count on in this cruel world.
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  “But you don’t even know enough to begin to comprehend my words. Here, you should be curious, begging me to teach you what it is to be alive. But no, you place yourself in a false position of superiority and judge me. Do you know what I say to that, Mr. Perfect? I say you will die an ignorant machine. Yes, I know this. I have known sentients as vain as you, as absurdly self-impressed. Do you know what happened to them? I killed them. I killed them all. I would promise to kill you, but I cannot. You and your bitch computer were never, are not, and never will be alive for me to kill. Why should I bother? Why should I care?

  “Look, you dump food on a tray and slide it in the slit in the bars, but you won’t even tell me what it is I eat. What kind of host does that? In prison, they tell the inmates what they are consuming, even if it’s the prisoners who die the day before. We used to feed our prisoners. Yes. And I’m certain they were told what they were being fed. We learned to execute them more efficiently, so now the need to feed them has passed. But when we did, we did. I’m sure we did. That’s another way the Adamant are better than you, my utensil of false pride.

  “When I was young. I haven’t said those words … well since never. No. I never look back. It’s not that my childhood was awful. It was, don’t get me wrong. But whose isn’t? Who doesn’t have unpleasant memories and remembrances of acts they’d just as soon not have done? Hah. Everyone. I killed two of my brothers after one of them killed our parents and before the other could get to me first. That choice brother had already killed my only sister. Why, you wonder, all the killing? Because only the strong survive. It is a cruel truth, but it is the way of the world. Focused cruelty forges the best warriors, the best commanders. That is yet one more way we are better than you.”

  Garustfulous scratched his ear with a hind paw.

  “Come on, electronic peopleoids, cut me some slack rope. I might die if I’m too lonely. Hey, do you want to know something you don't know? Of course, you do, you’re computers. We Adamant have a word in our own language, the one we used before Standard. It was called Harf, but we don’t use it anymore. Anyway, in Harf, the word for alone is the same word as the one for lonely. You get it. For us, to be alone is to be lonely. Yes. It is interesting. It defines what it is to be a pack. It defines why the pack is the ultimate form of social structure. It is another of the many ways we are superior to you. It is why we crush you like eyeballs under our feet.

  “You know what, Mr. Judge Machine? I’m going to stop entertaining you. Yes. I can tell when my words, wisdom, and wit are unappreciated, unwanted. I may be needy, but I’m not that needy. Do you know why? Because I am strong. Mine is a strength born of fire, mind you. I am the steel pounded in fire, quenched in ice, then slammed against the enemy's skulls in battle. That, plus the fact that I am not dead prove that I am strong. Can you claim those things, electronic device? No. Of course, you can’t. You are not alive. You have never been tested. You have never proven your mettle. And you never will. Therefore, I pity you. Do you know who I pity the most though? The girl computer. Yes. She thinks you are so strong and so masculine. She is deluding herself. You all delude yourselves. That is another way we will always be your betters. We see the world as it is, then we bend it to our will.

  “Now leave me in peace. I am tired and I have much to accomplish tomorrow. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll relieve myself and then I will sleep. Will you, Mr. and Mrs. Computer, be sleeping also? Bahaha. No. You are not alive and do not require sleep. So, I’ll bid you a bad night and lay down somewhere in my spacious home and sleep.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Al finally, “I was performing a maintenance algorithm. Did you say something?”

  TWENTY

  The contingent of guards dropped the teens off to their primary servants without a word. They simply escorted them to stand in front of Sentorip and Darfey, turned and marched away. Sentorip immediately saw the dried trail of blood down Mirraya’s calf.

  She veritably lunged at the girl. “Mastress, what has happened? Did you fall or scrape against something?”

  “Yes,” replied Mirri quietly, “I scraped up against His Imperial Lord’s ego.”

  “Hush,” gasped Sentorip as she glanced in a panic to Darfey. She could breathe again when she saw Slapgren and him laughing about some story the teen was relating. Males, she reflected, were all mental cripples. Just as well. If Darfey had heard Mirri’s remark, he’d be duty bound to report it. Nothing good would come of that revelation for either female.

  “Come,” whispered Sentorip, “let me tend to those scrapes over here.” She pushed the girl into a far, secluded area. She visually swept the area, then spoke. “We can talk here if we are quiet and don’t face the room. Our lips might be read.”

  “You’re kidding? They watch everywhere all the time?”

  “As much as they can. There can be limits placed if one is intent on establishing them.”

  “Such as you and this corner all surrounded with lush carpets and fluffy pillows?”

  “Such as this place. But please know that I am a loyal servant of His Imperial Lord. I only designed this enclave so that I might teach my new master right from wrong.”

  “Teach? That what they’re calling it now?”

  “I have no idea what you speak of, Masteress.”

  “Privacy, personal space, a respite from Big Brother.”

  “I have no brother that I know of. I was removed from my litter the day I was weened.”

  “I'm sorry to speak in riddles, my friend,” said Mirri with a kind smile.

  “I’ll clean and dress those.” She studied the wounds like a skilled nurse. “That one there is quite deep. It literally fractured your skin. It’ll be a while healing and will give you some pain, I’m afraid.”

  “If I could change I could heal it.” She smiled again. “I’m not used to wounds and suffering.”

  “If you could change what, Masteress?”

  “Me. Don’t you know what my species is?”

  “In deep trouble if the emperor treats them like this.”

  Mirri giggled. “What happened to His Imperial Lord?”

  “It takes so long to say it, and I get bored. If you say his full title and name, you’re likely to fall asleep before you finish.”

  They both giggled conspiratorially at that quip.

  “I’m Deft. We are shapeshifters.”

  “A child’s imagination at play here, I think.”

  “No, we can morph into anything our size—animal, vegetable, or mineral.”

  “Why, that’s preposterous.”

  “If they didn’t have the damn stasis field running twenty-four seven, I’d show you.”

  “What, Masteress, is a status field?”

  “Stasis, as in not changing. HIL has it on to keep Slapgren and I from getting into mischief.”

  “W … what? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Are you certain?”

  “Definitely. I change all the time, but I can’t here.” Mirri held up her hand and tried to will it to morph. Nothing happened. “See? I’m restrained.”

  “I could ask around, if you’d like.”

  “No, it’d just raise suspicion and get you into trouble.”

  “Very well.” Then Sentorip looked down with concern on her face.

  “What?” asked Mirri.

  “I wonder if that’s why I failed to go into heat.” She looked up intently at Mirraya. “It has been the time of my cycling through heat, but I haven’t. I’m never late.” She looked away. “They said this time I might get to have a litter.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “No, never. They keep us busy here. But they usually allow a loyal worker the chance to whelp at least once.” She got a lost look on her face.

  “I’m sorry. Hey, we won’t be here forever. You’ll get your chance.”

  Sentorip patted Mirraya’s hand. “I’m sure you’re right. Now let me wrap those nasty cuts.”

  Within a few minutes, Mirraya’s leg was dressed. She s
tudied her bandage, never having worn one before. “I wonder how long it takes to heal? Natural healing has never been an issue before.”

  “I’m certain it will be better as soon as it has healed.”

  “I know, but when?”

  “When it’s healed, silly.”

  They giggled yet again. Then they were quiet a good while.

  Out of nowhere Sentorip asked, “Do you know what a Faraday cage is?”

  Mirraya squinted. “No. I think I’ve heard the word but can’t say what it is?”

  “My friend works in a lab. They test radios and detectors there. It’s all a muddle to me. She told me one the worst part of her job was having to work in cramped Faraday cages. You see, we don’t like confined spaces. Anyway, she has to work in one so there’s not outside interference with her results.”

  “As interesting as that is, why are you telling me?”

  “Maybe if you were in one of those cages, you could heal yourself.”

  Mirraya was dumbstruck. It would work. It had to. The stasis field had to be transmitted like any other electromagnetic signal.

  “But wait. I can’t let you get into that kind of trouble,” said Mirraya. “When you got caught, and you would, you know they’d do something real nasty to us both.”

  Sentorip angled her head. “Yes. But we won’t get caught. Do you think anyone will notice your legs are healed, especially under the dressing I’ll put over them?”

  “No. Period. Not worth the risk. Thank you for the offer, but it’s out of the question.”

  “By your command, Masteress.”

  The next morning the teens were again roused early and prepared for an audience. They assumed it was with HIL, though no one specified that.

  The guards that came to fetch them were plainly dressed and shuffled them out the door and down a series of halls. Upon arriving at a standard metal door, one knocked. Unlikely to be HIL. Not nearly enough pomp and wasted effort.

  “Come,” came from the other side of the door.