Noble Front

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “Oh, I see. So now it’s just too good to bring it all back to the Capital? Don’t tell me that was your plan all along.”

  “I didn’t think it would go so far as seeing me turned into a Noble, but if given the chance I was willing to take it. I believe I’ll try out the Nobility’s technology on this village first. Join us, Ringard.”

  “No way in hell. For starters, I really can’t stomach any human who’d be that happy about being turned into a Noble. I’m gonna put you, fatty, and fingernails all down for the count. And I’ll do it with these here gravity-projecting rings. Watch this.”

  Already revolving around him, the iron rings became a blur. They’d shifted into ultrahigh speed.

  Mask gasped. All the scenery in front of him and Ringard had become distorted. And it wasn’t just a simple change of direction or a melting of matter. It was a distortion of atomic structure brought about by extreme gravity.

  “They say the universe formed from super-dense gas. And that’s what I’m gonna turn you bastards into.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Lascaux groaned. His words burned with fight.

  His balloonlike body quickly enlarged, stretching to the bursting point. The distortion faded. The massive, ballooning form had begun crushing the colossal trees. A number of them bent over Ringard’s head, crushing down on him. However, the enormous trunks all changed direction just shy of the top of his head, falling to one side, blurring, contracting, and then they were reduced to nothing.

  “Die, fatty!”

  The iron rings became a blur—and as soon as Lascaux saw that happen, his massive, looming form warped as well, running like watercolors, eddying, and the instant his whole body blurred he flowed away in a rush and was gone.

  “You can crush a Noble with a gravity field, but that won’t destroy him!” the Professor laughed.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Ringard laughed back. “But I sent that fatty Lascaux into a black hole linked to these iron rings. Noble or not, he’ll be squished down to jelly by the extreme gravity and he’ll never get out again. Your turn next, Professor!”

  Before the man had even finished saying that, the Professor was swallowed up by empty space.

  “Take that!” Ringard exclaimed, landing without a sound and flexing his right arm.

  “That sure was something,” Mask said, his voice having a genuine ring of admiration to it. “But don’t let your guard down. There’s still that creep Valen. It was his nails that cut your horse’s legs off.”

  “That long-nailed little chimp,” Ringard spat. His iron rings had returned to their ordinary rotation. “I’ll send him to hell-in-space soon enough. It’ll be easy as pie, just one left to go, Mask.”

  “Just one left, eh?” the man in the mask murmured. “No, more like two.”

  “What?!”

  As Ringard turned in amazement, a streak of black lightning sank into his chest. Ordinarily, the iron rings’ gravitational field could even deflect a laser beam. However, this attack had reached his chest, shattering ribs.

  Reeling, Ringard had bloody foam spilling from his mouth as he stammered, “Y-you little bastard. It can’t be!”

  “I got bitten, too. By the Professor.”

  Mask raised his right hand and showed his inner wrist. The pair of fang marks were clearly visible through the dark of night.

  “While I’m at it, I have something else to share with you. About how I got this mask. See, when I was a kid, everybody in the area knew how handsome I was, and I was beating the girls off with a stick. Man, I loved that. As a result, four or five girls in the neighborhood went and killed themselves. Just my luck, one of ’em had a father who was a hex man, and he decided to make it so a stud like me could never trick a girl ever again by giving me a face nobody’d want to see twice—the face of a demon.

  “I was just about out of my mind from it when a hex woman who was sweet on me came along and cast a spell to save me. One of the advantages of being a stud. Only she told me she couldn’t fix my face. She made me this here mask instead, and fastened it on with ten screws. And this is what she told me. The spell you’re under is too powerful for me to remove it completely. This mask is tied together with ten screws, and they should protect you. Given your situation, you should consider living out the rest of your days in peace. If you ignore my advice and follow the path of danger, at some point you’ll lose all ten screws. Once you do, your face will be exposed to the light of day and death will come for you. But maybe that’d be the best thing for you, eh?

  “Unfortunately, just as she’d feared, I took the warrior path, which led me here. It’s been twenty years, and only half the ten screws remain, but to be honest, I still curse this mask. Oh, in the beginning I was overjoyed. I could go out without anybody seeing how my face had changed. But day by day, it started to feel like I was locked in a dungeon. I wanna take this mask off and feel the morning sun and the moonlight and a gentle breeze on my face. I just used one of my screws on you. That leaves four. When I run out, my face will be exposed to the world. I used to want to die, but now it’s ironic I want this thing off so bad it’s killing me. Hey!”

  “Done flapping your gums?” Ringard groaned.

  “Wow, you must be something special to take a direct hit from one of my screws and still be around. You should thank those iron rings of yours. But now you’re finished.”

  Mask looked over his shoulder. A figure was closing on him from behind. And with a sharp dagger in one hand. Drawing an iron stake from his belt, Mask hurled it at the figure’s abdomen. A foot long, it pierced the figure through the solar plexus and out the back, making him stiffen.

  “What the hell is this?” Mask asked with suspicion, but a terrific impact sent him flying backward. Run through with an iron stake, the young man had still hurled his dagger. It had struck Mask in the face, and while it hadn’t pierced his covering, it had proved equally effective.

  Confirming that his target had slammed back against an enormous tree some ten yards behind him, the figure went over to Ringard and threw his arm around the man’s shoulder.

  “You?!” he exclaimed, shock distorting his face.

  To that, a pale face awkwardly replied, “I owed you from before.”

  The half-dead individual had given him his name—Habaki.

  II

  “But you’re—?!”

  “Hurry up,” Habaki told him. “They’ll be back soon.”

  Ringard fought the arm’s effort to lift him. Lascaux and the Professor had been sealed away in a black hole. A fate they would share for eternity. Ringard had every confidence in his own skill and the devices.

  “Not yet. I’m not leaving till I’ve gotten rid of Valen and that bastard Mask.”

  “They’re as good as Nobles now. And I don’t know about the fat one, but the Professor is definitely coming back—what the hell?!”

  Ringard looked over his shoulder at the same thing Habaki had seen.

  Mask had gotten back up. There was no trace of any damage from the dagger.

  Ringard groaned angrily, “I’m gonna beat the life out of you, you son of a bitch!” With his words, something black sprayed out. Blood. A broken rib had punctured his lung.

  Supporting the reeling warrior, the young man ran away, practically dragging the other man.

  “Are—are you a Noble?” Ringard asked him.

  “Nope,” Habaki replied, “but I breathed in some poison gas that turns humans into slaves for heavy labor. That’s why I’ve still got strength going for me, at least.”

  “Don’t you drink blood?”

  “Not a problem.”

  The upper part of the young man’s face—the right half—vanished.

  “Was that one of Mask’s screws?!” Ringard exclaimed. “What the hell?!”

  “Not a problem, either,” Habaki said, looking at him and smiling. It was a daunting smile.

  I’ll be lucky if the sight of that doesn’t kill me! Ringard thought to himself.

 
There was no follow-up shot by Mask. The two of them were obviously in a blind spot for him.

  “Three screws left. Guess he knows how to count. I’ll get him for this someday,” Ringard coughed. Blood went flying. “So, I suppose we’re headed for the hospital, then?”

  “You know where it is?” the disfigured young man asked.

  “Sure do.”

  “Then they know, too. I’ll take you someplace else—someplace safer.”

  Once again his face, missing a quarter, made a smile, and Ringard sank into despair.

  Cornet was certain something had possessed him. For the first time in a long time, his brain and body were working in perfect harmony. The Françoise he’d created had completed another task for him. Doc Chavez’s son was the village electrician. Adding to Cornet’s good fortune was the fact that the doctor’s grandson ran an ironworks. Though the community was a remnant of the feudal system, thanks to some convincing from the doctor they could go to the electrician shop or the foundry in the middle of the night, pull them out of bed to get the things they needed, and nobody would even complain. The disease scanners and automated surgery devices the young inventor had given the doctor really paid off now.

  Although less than ten minutes had passed since he’d started fidgeting with the parts Françoise had procured, Cornet had pretty much completed his work. When the sensor sounded, he was just about to sit back in his chair and relax.

  The screen showed Habaki and a man with iron rings circling his body as they stood impatiently in front of one of the entrances. A quarter of Habaki’s face was missing, and the man had blood streaming from his chest and mouth.

  “Quite a pair of visitors,” Cornet murmured. Grabbing the comm tube, he said, “Nobility aren’t welcome here, Habaki.”

  Pointing to his wound, the young man replied, “I’m not a Noble. If I was, this’d already be back to normal.”

  “Correct—so, who’s that you’ve got with you?”

  “One of the warriors who came from the Capital, but all the others got turned into Nobles.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “Elsa got turned, too. I took care of her.”

  Cornet fell silent, then sighed. “I’m sending Françoise that way now. Come in.”

  And with that, the hidden door opened.

  As soon as they were in the research center, Habaki asked him to operate on Ringard.

  “Not really my field of expertise.”

  “But those operating machines at Doc Chavez’s—you gotta have ’em here, too. From the way he looked on the way over here, he seems hurt pretty bad, but I bet you can do something for him. Your machines should be more than able to handle it.”

  Despite his disfigured friend’s assurance, Cornet didn’t seem completely on board with the idea, but he agreed to do it.

  “Françoise.”

  Having carried Ringard in, the female android tossed him none too gently into a bed that was fused with a machine.

  “Ow! I’m hurt here, you know,” the warrior groused. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m an android.”

  “Oh, I see,” he replied with acceptance, blood spurting out again.

  A thick cover was lowered over Ringard.

  “What’s this thing?”

  “Inside the cover is a surgical computer and related devices,” Cornet explained. “We can sit back and let them diagnose, prep, operate, and finish treatment.”

  “What are you doing with something like that down in this hole in the ground?! But then, look at this room—hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

  It was unclear whether Ringard ever got an answer to his query. They heard something else instead. The wail of a warning sensor.

  “Oh, and just when we were so close,” Cornet said. Furrowing his brow, he looked at his two visitors and said, “You were followed here, Habaki.”

  “I thought they might come. Anyway, do what you can for him—”

  “Are you in his debt or something?”

  “Yeah. He saved my life.”

  “Still . . .”

  “Don’t worry yourself on my account,” Ringard called over to them. “Just get this cover off of me. You two should make a run for it. I’ll hold ’em off.”

  Cornet gazed at him.

  “Your operation’s just about to begin,” he told the warrior. “I’ll keep the invaders at bay until it’s finished.”

  “Thank you,” Habaki said, laying his left hand on the hooded man’s shoulder.

  “What are you talking about?” said Ringard. “A couple of kids like you can’t handle the likes of them. Hurry up and get this damned cover off me, then make tracks!”

  Ignoring his request, Cornet took a seat behind his desk. His eyes were keen as they watched the screen.

  A pair of figures stood by the same entrance Habaki and Ringard had used. A man in an iron mask and another—one with unusually long fingers. Mask and Valen. The secret entrance was disguised as a tombstone in the village graveyard.

  “That’s a two-inch-thick slab of steel.”

  No sooner had Cornet said that than Valen raised his right hand and swung it low again. The instant his nails touched the door, a profusion of sparks shot out, picking the two figures out with a bluish light.

  “It also has fifty thousand volts running through it,” Cornet said, but still he shook his head. “That won’t do anything against a Noble, though.”

  Raising his claws, Valen struck with them once more.

  A red lamp flashed to one side of the screen, and a warning bell sounded.

  “What’s the story with those fingernails?” Cornet asked. “From the look of it, they cut better than an electron knife. It doesn’t even leave fragments behind.”

  The image on the screen shifted to a view of a corridor.

  “I’m just getting started. Wonder how long I can hold them,” Cornet said, and then he turned and looked at Ringard.

  “He’s asleep,” Habaki said with apparent relief.

  “The operation started, eh—should take approximately ten minutes.”

  “That’s pretty quick, isn’t it?”

  “The problem is whether my defensive systems can hold them that long or not,” said Cornet in an impassive bit of self-deprecation. Habaki seemed more rattled.

  “Shutters coming down!”

  A steel shutter fell right in front of Valen and Mask. Valen’s nails tore through it like it was made of paper.

  “Next comes the cave-in.”

  The rocks and earth that dropped on the pair’s heads would be enough to immobilize them, Noble or not. But the rubble was sent flying. Some terrible power had deflected it forward.

  “One of the masked man’s screws. This guy told me about ’em,” Habaki said, pointing over at the slumbering Ringard. “Two more and he’ll be all out of ’em—and now we come to the pitfall.”

  A hole instantly opened at their feet, and the pair was slammed against a stone floor fifty yards below. True to form, Cornet even had cameras inside the pit.

  The pair quickly got to their feet and Valen reached out his right hand, the nails stretching up like smoke to latch onto the lip of the pit. Carrying Mask, it took him less than three seconds to get out again.

  “Not bad for a couple of half-baked Nobles,” Cornet said, yet there was no fluster in his voice.

  “What’s next?” asked Habaki.

  “We’re finally getting to the main course. A rain of stakes.”

  “Got everything but the kitchen sink down here, don’t you?”

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “Not at all,” Habaki replied.

  “This is the only way to destroy Nobles and their cheap imposters. All the defenses up until now were intended for humans. This is the main event.”

  “How’s it work?”

  “Well, just keep watching.”

  A white room was depicted on the screen. It was a thirty-foot cube. When the iron door to the north side opened, in they came
, first Mask, then Valen. Perhaps due to what they’d already experienced, there was confidence in their strides. Still, they looked around as they came to the dead center of the room.

  “Good night,” Cornet said, flicking a lever.

  From the walls, ceiling, and floor gleaming streaks of black skewered the pair. Powerless to do anything, with stakes sticking out of them in all directions, the two of them collapsed on the spot.

  “You did it!” Habaki exclaimed, clapping his hands as he listened to the sound of the stakes that’d missed ricocheting off the iron floor.

  On the screen, the two bodies moved no more. As no real time had passed since they’d been turned into faux Nobility, there was no disintegration.

  “That’s what we needed, eh?” Cornet said, switching off the screen.

  “Just a sec. Turn it back on,” Habaki told him.

  Once again an image filled the screen. Pointing at one spot, Habaki tilted his head to one side. “That’s weird,” he said. “I was sure I saw black streaks across the floor—yeah, look! And his mask—it’s about to fall off.”

  “So, what about it?”

  “Ringard told me about it. The screws that hold his mask on—”

  A split second later, the wall to their right exploded. At least, the destruction was so great that was the only conceivable explanation.

  “What in the name of hell was that?” Cornet asked dumbfoundedly from beneath some rubble.

  Habaki got to his feet first, then helped Cornet up, saying, “A screw from the mask. I hear they’ve got incredible power!”

  “But their master’s already breathed his last—”

  “Part of me thought this might be coming,” Habaki told his hooded friend. “Imitation Nobles had to have more to ’em than that. C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

  “Okay, we’ll move to the next hideout!”

  “That’s not gonna work. I’ve got a feeling they’re sure to follow us. We’ve gotta get out of the village as fast as we can.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. And those black streaks are bothering me. They might be—”

  Having got that far, Habaki went up into the air. Actually, just his head did.