by R. E. Carr
“CALA, are you translating this?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then what the hell is she saying?”
“It has been 10,129 solar years since I deactivated the facility. Your genetic code contains appropriate markers, and your instructions to reestablish communications are indicative of a cease in hostilities,” Yeiwa continued.
“Ten thousand years? How . . . ?”
“It is Machidonian technology. What is this doing in our Holy Forest?” Kei spat.
“Your worker is being impudent. Shall I silence him?” Yeiwa asked.
“What? No! Wait, why do you call him a worker?”
“He is a hybrid of a worker drone and a variety of hominid species. Whoever created him was quite talented, but I must insist that he remain quiet.”
“What?” Kei snarled. “I am no—”
“Kei, please. Just sit down and shut up.”
“As you wish, Serif-fan,” he said snidely as he perched in the chair beside her.
“What is this place?” Jenn asked.
“It is a data repository. It contains art, culture, history, and scientific information for six species of sentient life. It also contains a genetic depository of eighty-two million different species of plants, animals, and single-celled organisms.”
“And who are you, then?”
“I am Praetor Asiya Yeiwa of the Hykerian Defense Force under Guardian K-13. I commanded the human detachment and seven hundred worker drones.”
“And you were attacked?”
“All others in my unit were killed. The drones were used as organic shields. All of them were presumed deactivated at the same time,” the praetor rattled as if she was reading off a grocery list. “This facility was created by the Ancients. We humans from the sovereign state of Atlantis were given stewardship of this facility after the great Exodus. It was only then that the Others chose to attack—”
“Ancients? Others?”
“You have many questions, Jenn. Has the state of our species’ knowledge devolved so much after all these years?”
“I’ve got to know this if I have any chance of getting back home. I’ve got to break these seals so that a lost god can return. His name is Rheak—”
“Interesting. The only reference I have is for 13B-Rheak—an artificial guidance intelligence, not a god.”
Jenn glanced over at the seething Kei. “Then could you tell me what the hell is going on here? These people of the Beast Tribe call me a Serif-fan. They are the ones that brought me here—”
“After many eons, mythology has sprung up around the Universal Network. It is not surprising that these primitive people have done the same. As far as I am concerned, you have been sent as a marker.”
“What?”
“Creating Duals is a technology only available to the Ancients and their constructs. Since you are a Dual and here to unseal this system, it is logical to assume that you have been sent as a marker.”
“What?”
The face on the screen sighed. “The war with the Others is over. 13B-Rheak is attempting to reestablish contact with this linchpin planet.”
“And you’re OK with this?” Jenn asked, raising a brow.
“Your Construct Assistant has given me all the necessary information. I am ready to issue Rheak’s orders.”
“So, you’re breaking the seal?” Jenn asked hopefully. “We just had to walk in here and sit in a chair? Kei, these seals aren’t so—”
Kei hopped to his feet. “I cannot listen anymore. Our god is not some Machidonian puppet!”
Before he could take a step, the door to the operations room slid shut. Kei popped out his claws and turned menacingly toward the screen.
“Why have you trapped me?” he growled.
“Your Construct Assistant Level Alpha has informed me of your mission. Hybrid DNA is necessary for this operation’s success. However, you are both inadequate. Upgrade required,” Yeiwa said.
“What?” Jen tried to jump up, but a metal restraint snapped across her chest. On the screen, Yeiwa’s forehead split open to reveal a shining blue gem. “Kei!”
The cables on the floor sprung to life and began writhing their way up the Sora-khar’s leg. Kei thrashed desperately as the pronged ends burrowed into his flesh. His blood splattered against the display. The wires yanked the Beast Man back and forth, dragging him ultimately into the wall. A second later, there was the sound of a door closing, and then the room fell eerily silent.
“CALA! Please help me, CALA!”
“Construct Assistant temporarily unavailable due to upgrade.”
“What are you doing?” She cried. “Kei? Kei, can you hear me? CALA?”
Jenn slumped into her chair. She began pulling helplessly at the steel restraint across her chest, but the bolts held her tight. Finally, she tossed her head back in frustration. A clang almost drowned out her yelp of pain. She looked down quizzically to see a needle popping out from the restraint. One prick later, she passed out.
“Jenn? Can you hear me, Jenn?”
“CALA?”
“Can you move? I am experiencing great disorientation due to new lines of code being placed into my routines. You also seem to be experiencing some physical discomfort.”
“I’m all good.”
“Your body has been upgraded with another retrovirus.”
“What?”
“Please remain calm. This virus is meant to help your immune system deal with new pathogens. It is also going to help you with the sunburn you’ve been experiencing. It is a final iteration of the original virus, so to speak.”
“What happened to you and Kei?”
“I have been upgraded to Construct Assistant Level Beta. I can now translate new languages instantaneously and am sixty percent more efficient in interfacing with Ancient Central Cores. I have more direct connections between your memory files and my own, meaning I can synthesize plans more efficiently. I also have more potential to either subvert myself into your personality, or to possibly develop more independent routines of my own. It is all very exciting—”
“CALA! Where’s Kei?”
“Perhaps you should not return to full consciousness yet. You should give the machines more time to work.”
“CALA!”
“I am only looking out for your best interests. My primary function is to protect you, Jenn.”
“What about Kei?”
Jenn snapped her eyes open. The door slid open. Kei took a few stumbling steps out. He promptly lurched forward and vomited. A single cable remained imbedded in the back of his neck.
“Oh God, Kei. Kei!”
“He cannot hear you, Jenn. He is currently learning the entire repertoire of Ancient martial techniques. Whether or not he will fully absorb that knowledge remains to be seen. We are also attempting to reactivate his worker-integration circuitry. It seems that his hybrid DNA is resisting the process,” Yeiwa said.
“Stop it! You’re hurting him!”
“I must follow my orders. Humankind must be restored, and communication brought back online. This worker is to be your protector. Currently, he is inadequate for the task, and we have no time to improve him by standard methods.”
“At least let me help him!” Jenn cried. A second later, the restraints popped off her chair. She knelt by Kei and grabbed his paw. “Kei, I am so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“All memories of our conversation have been erased from the worker’s memories. He will continue to believe that he is serving a purpose for his primitive deity.”
“That’s horrible! I won’t lie to him—”
“It is in your best interest to lie. You need this worker’s help, as he is unique. Honestly, Jenn, do you want to be responsible for the destruction of an entire race’s religion? They do not understand your true mission, but they do understand how you are bringing an entity that they consider a god closer to them.”
“It isn’t fair.”
“Fair is not the objective here, Jenn.
We are trying to fulfill a purpose designed thousands of years ago. You are now a part of that purpose.”
Jenn pressed her cheek against his fur. Yeiwa remained impassive on the screen, her blue gem shining down on them both.
“Ji-ann?” Kei whispered. “Ji-ann, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said between sobs. “I’m right here.”
“Good.” He remained on one knee, the cable pulsing in his skin.
“How do I break the seal here and get in contact with Rheak?” Jenn asked. The venom in her words made the face on the screen pucker.
“Once I am deactivated, the archive will be unlocked. It requires my permission—and a code of material switches to be activated that will cause the cessation of my functioning. After all these years, I will finally be allowed to rest.”
“You really want to be deactivated?” Jenn asked flatly.
“It is the natural order of things, Jenn.”
“So you’ll be gone, and we can move on to the next seal, right?”
“Correct. Unfortunately, I cannot guide you to the other seals you keep referring to. Disconnect mechanisms are independent, for logical safety reasons.”
“What happens to Kei?”
“Your worker is almost finished with his upgrade. His program is now running independent of mine. You may deactivate me at any time.”
“You’re sure?”
“Affirmative.”
The Serif-fan sniffled, but said nothing. She shambled to the control panel. A vast array of switches and screens faced her. A few tears splashed down on the dusty metal.
“What do I do?” Jenn croaked. “What do I do to stop this?”
“I am in the process of disabling my failsafe mechanisms. You see the series of ten switches in front of you?”
Jenn nodded.
“The switches will all turn red in a set order. Simply turn the switch that turns red once to the left before the next one changes color. It should be simple, even for you.”
“Thanks,” Jenn said flatly. “Is there anything you need to do?”
“I have had millennia to prepare for my death. If I am not ready now, I never will be. I have given your Construct Assistant copies of files that may be useful to you on your journey. This facility’s systems will shut down over the next few days, but the communication link will be active.”
“And Kei?”
“Two minutes from completion. Jenn, I wish you luck on your path. Perhaps you will be able to recover something that has been abandoned for ages.”
“Let’s get this over with. Start the switches.”
She barely looked at what she was doing. One by one, the lights went out. As she reached for the last switch, Jenn could see Yeiwa smiling. Jenn stared into the virtual woman’s eyes. Then, as Jenn’s wrist turned, the image disappeared, replaced by a single line of code.
“Program deleted.”
Assassin
“Will he be OK, Sotaka?” Jenn asked as she watched Kei being dragged to the surface.
“I have never seen wounds like his. We need to get him back to the city as soon as possible,” Sotaka sighed. “Ji-ann, I should not ask what happened in the seal, but if there is anything you can tell me—”
“These wires just shot into him. See there? He staggered and then collapsed,” Jenn said.
“He walked the Road as long as he possibly could. It is now time for his tribe to aid him.” Sotaka’s voice turned gentle. “I would not worry, Serif-fan. Kei is strong. I will have two of the warriors take you back to Gracow while I tend to Kei.”
“Should I leave him?”
Sotaka rested a hand on her shoulder. “Ji-ann, right now the people of Gracow may seem strong to you, but they are trembling inside. I do not want the first image they see of your return to be the heir Warlord weakened and ill. We must give them something to believe in. Be strong and give them hope, my Serif-fan.”
“I’ll do my best, but—”
“Kei would want this. He cares about the tribe more than anyone knows. Can you be strong for him?”
Jenn nodded. She let a young shaman straighten her braids and brush off her dress. All the while, her gaze remained locked on Kei’s blank eyes. He clawed at his chest.
Her guides knelt before Sotaka. “My Lord Spider, may we now take Serif-fan home?” one asked.
“See Ji-ann safely home with all possible speed. May the Lost God’s blessings be upon you all,” Sotaka said.
“I should warn you guys, I’m not that good at riding—”
Sotaka responded by dumping her into the saddle. Jenn gripped with her thighs as tight as she could. Her mount thrashed his antlers a few times as she held onto her reins.
Her two guides eased alongside her. The clipped edges of their Jar-Elk’s antlers clicked against the tree trunks. Jenn fought to stay upright as her mount bucked a bit.
“I am Grimal, the Deer. I will be your guide—and I will help you with your mount,” the slimmer of her two guards said.
A much shorter and wider man checked her saddle straps. “And I am Pituk, the Boar. I will be your guardian until we reach the city.”
“Well I’m Ji-ann the Serif-fan, and I’m still a novice rider,” Jenn said.
Grimal steadied her reins. “Do not worry, Serif-fan. This mount is well trained. Stay calm and guide him with the bit. If you want him to jump, pull in your knees and tap his sides with your feet. I will be right beside you.”
She settled down and patted her mount’s fur. The elk shuddered underneath her, forcing the Serif-fan to clamp down on its neck with a death grip. The guides seemed unfazed as they righted her.
“We will go slowly to start, Serif-fan. After a day with us, you will think you had been born on a Jar-Elk’s back,” Pituk said heartily.
She took a deep breath. “OK, here goes nothing. Come on, boy,” she whispered into her elk’s ear.
It took Jenn a few minutes, but as they lumbered down the path she slowly got settled into the saddle. No longer rushed or in pain, she began to take in the serene beauty of the Holy Forest.
She watched waves of all shades of green ripple in the wind coming from the mountains. Flights of birds soared across insanely blue skies. She closed her eyes and let the tension drain from her aching muscles. She bobbled once in the saddle, but this time the grip came back to her in a second.
“Warning. Power signature detected.”
“CALA?”
“I have detected a Machidonian transport receding from this area of engagement. I advise extreme caution.”
“No one knows what has happened, Kei,” Sotaka said as he wrapped bandages around Kei’s right hand. The linen quickly changed to red. No amount of willow-bark tea or Sotaka’s salve could stop Kei from recoiling from the light streaming through the forest canopy either. The heir reached back with one furry finger and touched the wounds on his neck. The shaman slapped his hand down.
“I feel strange, but I am not helpless,” Kei snarled.
“I will not tell your father or the council, unless you want me to . . .”
Kei looked at his hand. “I cannot tell them—not yet. Does Ji-ann . . . ?”
Sotaka shook his head. “I told her that you were ill.”
Kei rolled to his feet and stretched. He glared down at the shaman before the admonishment could pass from Sotaka’s pursed lips. “I was dreaming, Sotaka,” he whispered.
He looked down at the bandages, then took a moment to curl his lips back and taste the scent of his own blood in the air. “My blood—it has changed somehow. Sotaka, what has happened to me? In my dreams, I saw sights so terrible . . . I saw war and I could feel—I could feel myself in that war.”
He flexed his wounded hand. In a flash, he struck a horsefly buzzing toward Sotaka’s medicine, crushing the bug with a precise, furious blow. He watched, fascinated, as
the corpse fell to the ground. He snapped it up easily with his tail before kicking it into the underbrush.
Sotaka grabbed the beads at the end of his braids and prayed. “My lord Kei—”
“These hands tell me they have killed thousands, Sotaka, yet I know that they have not.”
“The Snow Leopard has gifted you with his speed and skill—” the shaman started.
“What leopard hunts an insect?” Kei growled. Sotaka inched back a bit. The young warlord extended his claws. “I have learned the art of murder, not survival. I know how not only to break a neck and sever a life vein, but how to cause pain, to snap limbs, to render a man helpless.”
“Perhaps the Great Spirit—”
“No, the Great Spirit would not be so cruel. Something is inside me, Sotaka. I can feel it in the back of my skull. It is crawling around, looking for something.”
“My Lord Zhanfos . . .”
The shaman pulled some powder from his medicine bag. Its strong scent brought Kei’s eyes back into focus. Sotaka helped his lord back into his vest.
“I remember so much, Sotaka,” Kei whispered, grabbing his ears. “Yet I understand so little.”
Sotaka kept staring at Kei’s bound hand. “Say nothing of what happened to anyone, Kei, not even Winowa. I will protect your secret. We will find a way to reverse what this Yeiwa did to you.”
“Jenn, abnormal readings to the west.”
“Pituk—” Jenn started to say.
Grimal’s eyes widened. “I have lost my sense of smell. What the—” He was silenced by an arrow in his eye.
Jenn screamed. The sound echoed through the gnarled trees. Pituk slapped the Serif-fan’s elk before an arrow claimed him too. “Assassin!” he bellowed.