A Princess Who Defied Kings

by J. Kirsch

  Jenson shrugged. "You have your hobbies, I have mine. The exosuits at the club have saved our lives countless times, but they'll never be ours. These babies are my pet projects. What else am I going to do, stuck in a system degrading faster than you can say 'garbage,' where the future is leading who the hell knows where?"

  "When were you going to tell me about them?" Damian accused.

  Now Jenson's smile grew beatific. "Vuldemort was going to be your big, nasty present when you hit your 20th. Guess what? We're celebrating your birthday early. Now here's my condition, as promised. We do this crazy, shady deal for your Mystery Girl only if you wear the suit. You wear Vuldemort. I'll go with Dumbledoor here, and besides, he'll do in a pinch as long as I don't take too many direct hits."

  Damian nodded as he took one final gulp of coffee and stepped into his boots. He took one last scan of the Vuldemort suit with its pock-marked surface and cascades of dark streaks, alloy impurities left over from the mother of all repair jobs. It was a miracle the thing held in one piece, yet whoever had brute-forced the retrofit had known what they were doing. It looked sturdy as a rock.

  "One last thing before you go flirt with your Mystery Girl and tell her the idiocy we're prepared to do for her," Jenson finished. "Keep in mind, my buddy who did the retrofitting and repair said that these suits aren't as stable as the certified 'Pure-B' exosuits manufactured in our Sector. In other words, this isn't your license to play hero."

  "Got it."

  "Number two, the sparkly on your exosuit has been degrading over time. My snooping didn't yield much useful info besides how to install them, but here's what I do know. Not even one of those crystals has been officially released from Alpha Sector in the last sixty plus years. That means this thing is probably old. How long its force field will last when triggered, that's a crap shoot if there ever was one. Could be an hour. Might be 10 seconds. Got it?"

  Damian nodded. "Do you also plan to give me a tutorial on fire safety or can I go now?"

  "Actually, there is one more thing."

  "What?"

  "Tell your Mystery Girl that if we get her those papers she owes me a kiss on the cheek."

  Chapter 3

  The young bouncer's veins thrummed with excitement, yet he was terrified. He didn't know if she was even still using his apartment. While he walked down Jefferson Avenue in the Archimedes sub-sector Damian wondered if he'd find that his apartment had been ransacked of everything valuable. If she's desperate enough, she'll run. Who am I kidding? I would've probably done the same by now. The Archimedes Sub-sector was as close as Beta Sector had to a downtown. As a single area carved out of rock, it towered at least a kilometer above its residents and was more than ten times that in width. He approached his apartment block, which was crisscrossed with wire mesh walkways whose ramps zigzagged before dropping to street level. Lights spilled underneath more doorways than not, many of them illuminating the etchings along every hall. The spans between many apartment doors were scrawled with the words and images of poets, madmen, hedonists, and every other malcontent who could suck in air. It was easier than trying to put anything useful up on the heavily censored community message boards.

  If she's already scattered to the four directions, then this has all been one huge waste of time. He could always hope to track her down again, but in Beta Sector alone, with tens of thousands of people, was that anything more than a pipe dream?

  He readjusted the strap on his shoulder. The canvas bag he hugged to his torso had a few things he hoped Mystery Girl would find useful. Despite the darkness under the door, he knocked. Waited. No sign. No motion. He waited some more. Knocked again, softer this time.

  It was late morning. The girl probably stayed put during the day. Less risk that way. He might have woken her. He had to hope that was why she hadn't opened the door yet, especially since he didn't like some of the alternatives.

  "Look…hey, it's me. I need to come in. I've brought you some things. Try not to knife me in the face, okay?" No answer. He pressed his face up against the door, and a screen shimmered over the door's surface. The door doubled as a retina scanner for ID purposes in case a resident lost their key-print and hadn't yet been able to replace it. The door clicked, unlocking, and Damian stepped through.

  The lights had been dark, but they immediately turned on as they sensed Damian's movement. Not so with the bedroom. The light settings here were different, for the usual reasons. Damian heard the gentle slumber of someone lying on his bed. He slowly walked up to the sound, gasping when he realized in the glow of the alarm clock light that it was the same girl. And she was not fully dressed.

  Damian almost tripped over his own feet in the haste to exit, his face red enough to be a beacon in the dark. Crap, crap, crap. I knocked. Please kill me now. He had made it back out to the living area when he heard a sharp intake of breath. A few rustling and crashing sounds later, Mystery Girl was wearing one of his perfectly pressed and clean body-suits, modified to fit her slimmer figure. She had an electroshock blaster out and ready. Strapped to her hip just in case hung that oh-so-familiar knife.

  "You promised me. Why did you break your promise?"

  He saw the distrust in her eyes. Or was it just fear?

  "Did you expect I could let you stay in my apartment forever?"

  "I just needed another few days," she muttered, but her eyes refocused, angry and alert. "What did you see?"

  "The lights weren't even on," Damian protested, backing away with hands held out in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "Nice electroshock gun by the way."

  "Thanks, it's a new acquisition, but you didn't really answer my question."

  Damian felt incredibly awkward, but the more he looked at the girl's face – her now clean face – and the more he saw her eyes slowly softening, the more he felt a little courage.

  "Let's start over." He slowly walked forward, carefully dropping his bag first, until he was within easy strike of her electroshock gun. "My name is Damian Luxe. Your name is Mystery Girl…sorry I couldn't be more original. Maybe you can help me with that? I can guess your name, if you want to make this an interactive game. Is it three syllables or two?"

  He saw the ghost of a smile flash across her face. "You're kind of annoying."

  "I'm hoping there's a 'but' coming right around the corner…"

  "Vira." She gave him a half-decent grin now, and held out her hand to shake. The other hand was still gripping that electroshock gun for dear life.

  "Pleasure to meet you, Vira." He gingerly took the hand, then was about to draw his hand back and gesture to the bag so he could give her a run-down of what he'd brought. That was when the whole place spiraled into chaos.

  Damian had time to see her eyes cloud and shift into alarm. She dropped the electroshock gun as he whirled around, hearing the sounds of his door rebounding off the wall with a deafening crash. Three security androids burst into the room. The SA bots rushed into the living area, and before Damian knew what he was doing he had pinned Vira to the wall with his back, shielding her body with his.

  The three humanoid robots blocked his escape on all sides. The middle android's visor-like face zoomed in with a loud whine as its neck extended.

  "Citizen, I am Officer SA-3. Our patrol detected your door ajar and our records show that your key-print was used to access this living quarters while you were already clocked in for work at nightclub Twin Galaxies. This robot is not aware of any human who can exist in two places at once. Are you in duress, Citizen? Is this an intruder?"

  Damian shook his head frantically, wanting to scream NO! The androids didn't read human body language well or pick up on verbal cues. But they weren't stupid either. They had a basis in rationality. If only he'd shut the stupid door…their programming forbade them to enter someone's personal living quarters without some physical sign for provocation.

  The android tilted its head, then began to point at Vira. The girl's eyes were big pools of terror. Her heart was thundering in her ch
est, and Damian felt it through his body-suit. Dang it!

  "Is this human a registered Citizen? All unregistered Citizens from lower sectors must have clearance. All illegals will be recycled, I repeat, all illegals will be recycled."

  "She's not an illegal! She's my girlfriend, and we're both Citizens."

  "We do not have her papers on file." The android waved at a small handheld console no bigger than the palm of a human hand.

  "The papers are in processing! We submitted them not even an hour ago. She's from the outer sectors. The Haven AI had her escorted here, but there was an altercation with some illegals, and her escort had to be diverted. One of your own people later delivered the papers for her to sign and took them away. I swear it's true!"

  He was lying through his teeth, but to an android it was possible that his story sounded convincing. Or so he hoped. Damian knew that if this encounter were happening in a public place things might go very differently. The SA bots often bulldozed first and asked questions later out on the street. But here in his apartment, which was technically his personal space, there were limits imposed on the SA bot's discretion.

  His story was outlandish enough to make them skeptical, but he also knew for a fact that the rumors circulating about the Haven AI promoting people up from one sector to the next and, in rare cases, even up to Alpha Sector, had to have some basis in reality. He was gambling…with his life and hers.

  The SA bots stared at him so long it made his skin crawl. Damian felt Vira's breath warm his neck, and it gave him a sense of comfort beyond what it had any right to.

  "Are we done here?" he asked.

  Crap. Why are they giving me that strange look?

  Once in a while the SA bots seemed to take initiative rather than mindlessly follow their directives. Jenson had told him that the going theory was that their tiny AI sub-brains were evolving just like any living thing.

  "We cannot verify this statement, Citizen, but our instructions classify this as a low-priority threat. I repeat, this is a low-priority threat. Give us some evidence proving your version of reality and we will leave the premises and discontinue our investigation."

  "Give you…what?" Damian's mind was racing. He had made up a BS story. He didn't have any proof. One of the other SA bots reached for Vira.

  Its manic, robotic voice droned. "Damian Luxe, please satisfy requested command or we will speak to this human female outside to verify. I repeat, please – "

  "Hey, OK, OK, take it easy! Did I not tell you she was my girlfriend? Look, I'll prove it to you." Damian turned around, his whole body stiffening with tension. He mouthed the word K-I-S-S and gave her a frantic look that begged, 'Please don't go ballistic on me.'

  Vira's gold-green eyes sharpened at first, relaxing with conscious effort. Vira let him lean forward, their lips touching. He felt the warmth of her breath, the softness of her body pressing against him for just those fleeting seconds as she entwined her arms around his neck to make it convincing enough even for human eyes. She deepened the kiss as Damian felt a protective urge consume his whole body. Suddenly his arms had gathered her tightly against his chest and the kiss found a life of its own.

  It seemed an eternity later when they disengaged, her scent still clinging to him. The three security androids took a moment to process what had just happened.

  SA3 finally piped up.

  "These humans are exhibiting behavior consistent with Citizen Damian Luxe's prior assertion. I believe low-priority requirements have been met. Is this agreed?"

  The other two security androids nodded and turned to lead the way out. Three seconds later the door slammed closed behind them, and Damian heard the beautiful music that was the lock mechanism sliding into place.

  Vira and Damian sighed in unison. A loud smack echoed in the chamber as she slapped him. She picked up the electroshock blaster again and gave him a dirty look.

  "There's not going to be an encore, buster."

  Damian collapsed backward on the sofa and put both hands above his head. "I wouldn't dream of it. Give me a moment to get my heart rate back near something that won't make my chest explode. Then you can chew me out all you want, OK?"

  Vira almost smiled. Once her own breathing finally slowed she sank down onto the couch a little distance from Damian's outstretched legs. Her sidelong look was wary but at least no longer lethal.

  "So tell me…why did you really come here?"

  With a deep breath Damian tried to decide. Where do I start?

  Chapter 4

  The Inner Fringe was not a place to be caught dead in. Damian's hand encircled Vira's much smaller one, but he was surprised to see her so perfectly calm. Like a willow tree smugly spitting into the teeth of an oncoming storm, she surveyed the dilapidation of the Inner Fringe with 'bring it on!' punctuating her every step. But she's fragile too, just like the willow trees of Earth. From birth Damian had been taught of the super-storms that had ravaged the world after human ingenuity 'fixing' climate change had only created a cure worse than the disease. He remembered watching film from old Earth when he was a boy, seeing a solitary willow tree which seemed to take all that the storm could hurl its way…until a final gust ripped it out by its roots.

  That's not going to happen to you or your girl, dude. Don't be so dramatic. Wondering if Jenson had somehow invaded his mind with telepathic disapproval, Damian glanced back and saw his friend moving discreetly in the distance. Wearing the Dumbledoor suit, he stuck out like a very sore thumb in a shantytown where rags and half-nakedness were the norm. The Haven AI called this the Inner Fringe, but citizens of Beta Sector had another name for it. The "Intestines."

  The ones who dwelled here were outcasts, thieves, criminals, political dissidents, and anyone else who hadn't known when to stop or shut up until it was too late. The authorities liquidated some of them, but the very reputation of the place served another purpose to Damian's frame of mind. Why kill those who were opposed to the good things the AI was doing, giving criminals an easy way out? Justice could be more poetic than that. No, instead the AI let them wallow in their own filth in a crazy-glued society where murder, rape, and killing for a thimble of water were as common as 'Please' and 'Thank you' up above. What better way to prove to the people of Beta Sector what would happen if the Crew of Alpha Sector and the Haven AI were no longer allowed to guide the generations' future?

  Yes, but you aren't playing the good citizen now, are you? You're not supposed to be here, dumbass. Damian shoved that thought as far back into his head as it would go.

  "So...not to complain. You are, I guess, putting your butt on the line for me…but how are we getting back into the city if something goes wrong?" Vira asked.

  "We should have three hours until the authorities find the new passage that the black marketers just tunneled. If we don't get back in time, my contact told me that this," he stopped, holding up a tiny holo-view attached to the underside of his forearm, "will give us directions to an alternate route."

  "And what makes you so sure that this genetic freak buddy of yours who lives in the shadows won't just let us all rot out here?"

  "At least two reasons," Damian replied with an easy grin. "He doesn't get the second half of his payment until we get back safely, #1. And #2, Jenson and I have a mutual friend who dabbles in the black market and knows where said genetic freak operates. Our mutual friend is not the sort of person you want to anger, unless having four limbs seems a burden to you."

  Vira wrinkled her nose. "Such a typical guy. Do all of your analogies have to be based on physical violence?"

  "Nope. Only the most fun ones."

  They were walking along a tall, narrow tunnel with shanty houses built partly on stilts and huddling against the rock walls anywhere from one to three stories up. Lichen grew on the roofs, the staple crop for anyone eking out an existence where little else of nutritional value could sustain itself. It felt more like walking through a rat-infested den than a settlement, and the stench at times was just about as bad. />
  "I've grown up fearing the SA bots. It feels weird not seeing them patrol," Vira admitted. "But this seems almost worse. It's creepy."

  Damian glanced at Vira. She wore a padded vest and fatigue pants to protect her well enough from knife attacks, but a sharp projectile would still skewer her, and her face was unprotected. He felt only marginally better when he took the time to admire the two long knives and six-set throwing knives buckled to her hips and waist.

  "Are you even listening to me or are you checking out my figure?" Vira growled.

  "Don't flatter yourself," Damian grunted. It had been five days since the SA bot scare in his apartment. Five days they'd had to prepare for this reckless scheme to get Vira the fake papers she needed. But it already seemed like a lifetime had passed between them, and Damian found himself relaxed around her, even under pressure. Especially under pressure.

  "I was just thinking that I'd much rather you were wearing the exosuit and I was wearing the black get-up."

  "Yeah, well, last time I checked bulky exosuits custom-fitted for broad-shouldered males don't exactly do it for me. I prefer having other abilities…like being able to walk."

  Damian sighed. They had had this argument a hundred times. Refitting the exosuit for her wouldn't have been impossible. Expensive? Yes. Time-consuming? Yes. As annoying as a bad bowel movement? Almost certainly. Jenson had taken her side in the argument, and that had been that.

  The main thoroughfare of the Inner Fringe was called "The Gut," and they followed it for what seemed like eight or nine kilometers. A few souls peeked out at them from between the slats of boarded-up windows. Garbage littered the tunnel-cum-street. Every now and then the all-seeing eyes of a camera perched at the top of the corridor looked down on them, shielded with projectile-proof glass. Random video-feed of the Inner Fringe was broadcast to citizens of Beta Sector. It was currently the most popular running show you could view on the casts, a lot like the mindless "reality" programs of old Earth.