by K. A. Finn
Roman takes the report and tucks it under his arm. 'Ten minutes. I want to see how he is first.'
He turns away and makes his way through the hustle and bustle of the hangar. Ares, with her unusual metal sails, sits to the left, her cargo ramp open as personnel move supplies around her hold. The menacing purple griffin glares over at him as he passes the back of the ship. Nemesis and Epsilon, along with one of the Rogue ships, Dannan, take up the rest of the bays. The rest of the Nomad, Hunter, and Rogue ships are on patrol or ferrying colonists to safety.
Roman nods at any personnel he passes on his way to the belly of the facility. He finally reaches the heavy metal door and places his palm on the security pad. The door slides back and he steps into the holding cells. Four out of the five cells are empty, the occupant of the first cell is someone he's become somewhat close to over the last few weeks.
From the first moment over a year ago when he discovered he had a son, life had spiralled out of control for him. Too many things had come to light, and to remain as level headed as possible, he pushed some of those revelations to the back of his mind. Dealing with the fact he had a grown son, who had been kidnapped by his best friend, Callum, was too much to handle at the time.
His friend's jealousy of Roman's relationship with Maggie had put their son in danger. Callum had targeted Gryffin and spent years modifying him, altering the boy, making him a highly volatile cyborg. Unsurprisingly, Gryffin didn't want anything to do with his Foundation father and, at the time, Roman had whole-heartedly agreed with his decision.
Finding out about their relationship was a surprise to both Roman and Gryffin. Neither of them had been overly enthusiastic about the situation. Thirty-five years is a long time to make up for, but something changed over the last few weeks. Perhaps it was the events on the New Colony with the Scientist, but Gryffin seems to be warming to him. It is far from a typical father/son relationship, but the Nomad leader is at least acknowledging him. It's a small and welcome start. Unfortunately, unless a miracle happens, they may not get the time they need to develop anything more.
His son is dying. Piece by piece, the modifications his twisted friend made are failing, taking more of Gryffin with them each time.
Roman settles on the chair in front of the cell and dismisses the Nomad standing guard. He leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. From what he can see, Gryffin's condition has worsened over the last two days.
He seems to be asleep, but his rest is far from soothing. There's no comparison between the intimidating man he met a year ago and what's facing him in the cell. Apart from the damage the implants are causing to his body, they've also had to remove his prosthetic arm. After nearly electrocuting Milla it was decided, for his safety and theirs, to take it off. Even without his lower arm, small sparks of electricity still race across the surface of his exposed stump.
His pale face is damp with sweat, the few days growth of facial hair helping to mask his sunken cheeks. He had cut his hair, losing the long locks that hid his facial implant and scars from view. The short, dark spikes helped keep him cool through his frequent raging fevers, but even they are soaked in sweat.
The anger still burns in Roman's gut when he sees the damage to Gryffin's face. The more serious of the two scars, the one that stretches from over his right eye and across the bridge of his nose to his left cheek was done with a broken bottle while he was in Tyrat prison. At least that's what Desyl told him. Gryffin never spoke about the myriad of scars on his body. Something that Roman can't help but be somewhat grateful for. He's struggling with the little he knows about the torture his son has endured over the course of his life.
Gryffin mumbles in his sleep and thrashes in the bed. The black t-shirt rides up, exposing much too visible ribs. The 'W' shaped implant embedded in his chest seems to have sunken creating a hollow that gives him a skeletal appearance. Not training or eating much has withered the once strong body. The rare times he's been interested in eating usually ends with the food making a reappearance. Milla was reduced to giving him high doses of nutrients to keep him going. Not being able to restock Infinity or Epsilon with Foundation grade supplies leaves her trying to utilise what they have left on board with the meagre and primitive offerings of the Outer Sector.
The metal brace supporting his right leg rattles against the bars as he moves on the small cot. It's his damn leg that's giving them the most sleepless nights. For reasons he will never comprehend, Roman's dear psychotic friend decided to add cybernetics to Gryffin's leg. He had left the lower leg as it was, choosing only to replace the outer layers of his upper limb with metal.
Apart from leaving him with a near useless, excruciatingly painful leg, the living tissue imprisoned under the metal is so riddled with infection it is putting a huge strain on his system - both organic and artificial. Nothing they try makes it any better. The last update he had from them ended with the mention of amputation. It is something Gryffin is dead against, but it is getting to the stage where he loses his leg or his life.
His other implants aren't faring any better. His robotic eye shut down before Roman left on this trip a few days ago and the other is less than reliable. He's also battling a brutal headache and nothing Milla does offers any relief.
Unable to watch Gryffin struggle with sleep, Roman pushes to his feet and paces the small room. He's actually surprised Terra isn't here, keeping Gryffin company. While he hopes she's taking time out for herself, he knows she's probably under a console somewhere on Ares. She's another person occupying his thoughts. Her feelings for Gryffin are plain as day - which in itself is troublesome.
She's in love with him in spite of everything he's said and done to try to convince her otherwise. Roman knows she's going to get hurt. Whether thanks to his brutal childhood or something the implants did to him, Gryffin struggles with emotions. There is no question Gryffin cares about her, but Roman doubts it goes beyond that, or if it does, whether Gryffin comprehends what the feelings mean. It's not his fault, it's just how things are with him.
'How'd it go?'
Roman stops pacing and looks over at Gryffin. The Nomad is propped up on his remaining arm, squinting at him through unfocused eyes. 'I didn't realise you were awake.'
Gryffin uses the bars to pull himself up and manoeuvres himself against the corner. He collapses back between the wall and bars looking exhausted by the effort. 'How'd it go?' he repeats.
Roman sits down. 'Surprisingly well. The leaders of the colonies are going to continue working with us. Admittedly, at the initial meeting having the Nomad involved didn't fill them with confidence, but they came around.' Gryffin looks away and Roman knows he blames himself for destroying the relationships he spent so long forging. 'Hey, this isn't your fault.'
'I was the one holding the gun. I attacked Ultar. I betrayed the colonies.'
'That gun was put in your hand by the Foundation. When they sent you to destroy Ultar, it was as much a tactical decision as it was a plain old attack. Everyone heard about it. They know it wasn't your fault. They know the Foundation programmed you—'
'Doesn't make a damn bit of difference and you know that. Might be best if I back out. Leave it to you and Desyl.'
Roman shakes his head. 'Give it time. So far, the leaders seem to be happy with me taking charge. They know the Nomad are still involved, but they'd prefer if it was behind the scenes for now.'
'You good to do that?'
Roman gives a half-hearted shrug. 'With you stuck in there and Aleena dealing with the colonists here, I don't have much of a choice. I'm not built for the political life, but we all have to adapt to the circumstances. You just need to give them time, Gryffin. So, how are you feeling?'
Gryffin smirks. 'Peachy.'
Roman laughs and leans back in the chair. 'Sounds like you've been spending too much time with Milla.'
'She suggested I try a response other than fine.'
'Can't say it suits you.'
Gryffin closes his eye and rests his head aga
inst the wall. Staying awake is a constant struggle for him lately. 'Think I'll stick with fine.'
'Have you been able to eat anything?'
He shakes his head. 'Terra's taking it personally. Like I have a problem with her cooking.'
'Please don't say she's cooking for you?'
'Don't tell her, but I tasted better in Tyrat.'
'Burnt beyond all recognition?' Gryffin nods. 'Always happens when she cooks. Can't for the life of me figure out how she does it.'
'Yeah, well I wish she'd stop trying. Food is in short enough supply without her ruining what little we have left.' He winces and looks over at him again. 'Anything from Earth?'
The question is innocent enough, but Roman can't help but feel there is a little brotherly concern at its core. His brother, Bray and the ex-inmate Garvan disappeared through the port two weeks ago after hitching an unplanned ride to Earth on a Foundation vessel.
Gryffin hooked to the nav system on Ares and brought himself to the brink of death trying to catch up with them before the Foundation ship entered the Port. He wasn't successful and he's still paying for it. To get his man back, Sayber had taken his ship Perses along with a Rogue ship to find them and bring them back.
'I've only just got back, but I'm sure someone would have told me if there was.'
Gryffin nods and readjusts his leg on the bed. 'If Sayber and Bray don't make it back, they'll need to appoint a new leader and flagship. Quinn still here?'
'And not too happy about it. I'm getting the impression he'd much prefer to be on Perses then a grounded Hunter representative.'
'Can't blame him. The Nomad and Hunters on the surface haven't spent this long on solid ground before. We prefer to be on our ships.' He takes a deep breath and closes his eye again. Roman knows he would give anything to be at the helm of Ares again. 'You should talk to Quinn. Make sure he has a back-up plan in case Perses doesn't make it back. Wouldn't want some other group taking them down while they're getting their shit together.'
'Should I be keeping an eye on your Nomad, Captain?'
Gryffin opens his eye and smirks slightly but doesn't reply. He readjusts his brace again and lets out a deep breath. 'I need you to do something.'
'Sure.'
Gryffin pushes himself further upright and looks at Roman. 'Talk to Terra. She's brushing off my condition like I've got a damn bullet wound. I've tried, but she won't listen to anything I say.'
Roman had noticed her clear case of denial before he left but he was hoping, with time, she'd allow the truth to sink in. 'I know Milla's tried a few times. You can't blame her for having a bit of hope. She's in love with you. Not giving up hope of a miracle goes hand-in-hand with that.'
'Hope is fine as long as she accepts it will probably go the other way. I'm not going to beat this, Roman.'
'Gryffin—'
'I'm not. You know that. She needs to understand. Milla thinks I have two weeks left at most. Terra needs to accept that.'
Roman leans forward and laces his fingers together. 'I'll talk to her but I'm not promising anything.'
Gryffin shuffles down the bed, bringing him closer to Roman. He takes a few deep breaths, the exertion of moving from the top to the bottom of the bunk wiping him out. He leans his head against the bars and meets Roman's eyes. 'There's something else. I've said this to Terra, but she wasn't taking it in. I don't want to die in a cell on Ultar.'
Roman swallows as a sour taste appears in his mouth. He was expecting this conversation. That doesn't mean he's one bit ready for it. 'I've spoken to some of your crew about Nomad traditions. An honourable death is to go down fighting. As captain... being on your ship in your command chair is also acceptable. I'm taking it you want the latter. The first could be... well, an unfair fight.'
Gryffin laughs. 'Yeah. Takes the honour out of it when it's a slaughter. I'm not saying you let me out yet. Not much of a threat like this, but not going to risk it. But when the time is... right, I want to be moved to Ares. Even if she stays in orbit. Just as long as it's not here... like this.'
'Of course.'
Gryffin nods and begins the task of moving back up the bed again. He lies down and closes his eye, quickly giving in to exhaustion. Roman slumps back in the chair and watches his son sleep. Never in his life has he felt so completely helpless.
Roman takes out his comms, but stops himself. Pressuring Milla and her team won't do a thing. They're spending every spare minute trying to find why Gryffin's programming stopped him from going through the Port. Until they find out why, they can't risk bringing him through. Even if that wasn't an issue, there's nothing to bring him across for. They're headlining the most wanted list. Earth is closed to them. If anything, they'd be in a worse situation than they are here. At least here Gryffin's got a support system.
There's no point even considering any of that. He knows without a doubt Gryffin would rather die here than go to Earth. All he can do is make sure his death is an honourable one. If he wants to die in his command chair on Ares, then Roman will make sure that's exactly what happens.
3
FOUNDATION HQ - EARTH
One opens the door to the cargo bay and walks purposefully towards the loading ramp on Beta. He can't help but sneer at the small vessel. Beta is used to ferry Council members around the surface. She is small and certainly nowhere near as impressive or intimidating as her sister.
Losing Alpha as they had was a severe blow to the group as well as an embarrassment to his leadership. The rebels took Alpha from under their noses. He doubts he will be able to recover from that. His only salvation would be securing the prototype and bringing him back to Earth. With Thirty-Five on display and operating as it should, perhaps the Alpha issue will be forgotten.
He watches from the bottom of the ramp as drones load crate after crate of weapons into her hold. Even before she reaches him, One is aware of Nova's approach. The cyborg leader comes to a stop beside him. He glances over his shoulder at her, examining her from top to bottom.
The fall from Alpha had broken most of her bones and the resulting blood loss from being impaled had nearly killed her. He's glad they were able to salvage her. It would have been irritating to have to train a different cyborg to take over.
He smiles as the small army stops behind her. A total of thirty-seven of the new model are fully operational and ready to fight for the Foundation. The colony should fall without any human Foundation losses. A few cyborg losses won't bother him in the slightest - as long as Nova and the prototype survive, the rest can be replaced.
He may have told the rest of the Council members that Thirty-Five is not vital to their project, but that was a lie. Without the prototype, they can never hope to rectify the issues with the male subjects. Having an army of female cyborgs is an achievement, but having a male one as well would be quite a bonus - especially if Wade Garvan could be first on the list to be modified.
Besides, a part of him would like to have the prototype back on Earth. Something about the cyborg intrigues him. His defiance and continued stubbornness, in spite of all they've put him through, is fascinating. That in itself is worth closer inspection.
'Is your team ready, Nova?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I know you are aware, but I am going to stress this again. I will be less than happy if anything happens to Thirty-Five. Once you have completed your task, he is to be returned to me in one piece and unharmed. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir.'
He raises an eyebrow as he glances sideways at her. He's probably imagining it, but he swears he caught a slight irritation in her tone. 'Keep in regular contact. Dismissed.'
She nods and without another word, steps onto the loading ramp, and disappears into the ship. The rest of the women follow close behind, their footsteps in perfect synchronisation with each other. The loading ramp closes and he moves out of the way as Beta's engines power up.
The craft lifts off the ground then moves towards the exit followed by every other available ship the
y can spare. He stays in position as the fleet clears the base and gradually disappears from view as they rise higher. A few minutes later, they are gone.
One spins on his heel, clasps his hands behind his back, and strolls through the base. He is mere days away from officially being known as the greatest leader in Foundation history. His cyborgs will take over Ultar which, in turn, will weaken the opposition in the Outer Sector. With no defences left, they will submit to his rule. The colonists will provide everything the elite on Earth needs, thus ensuring the survival of the most important people on Earth. With the majority of the populace content, he could then turn to his personal issues. The prototype would undergo a complete rework. Millions of credits would not be wasted again.
He checks the time on his unit. It would take an hour for the fleet to reach the Port and another five on the other side to get to Ultar. As soon as they get close to the rebel planet he'll put the final part of his plan in motion.
If all went as predicted, Nova would return in a day or so with the prototype in custody. This time, One would make sure the control implant could not be overridden by anyone. There's no point having invested that much in a weapon if you then give it free will to do whatever it wants. No, he would fix that problem once and for all.
He smiles and hums to himself as his private elevator carries him up to his office. He makes a mental note to check on the progress with the new lab. It needs to be completed before Nova arrives. Having both the prototype and the troublesome Wade modified to the new specification would give him two powerful bodyguards. With them at his side, fighting for him, he'd be unstoppable.
DIXON SPACE STATION
Bray sits down at the desk in his room and waits as Sayber finds the relevant data. Sayber and Rua had spent dinner filling him in on what's happened since they hitched a ride back to Earth on Alpha, or Cronus as she is now being called.