The Empress i-3

by B. V. Larson

  That was another thing that bothered her intensely. Were these mechs actual rebels? If that was the case, her entire society was endangered. Only mechs were capable of doing the hard labor required out here in Sunside, and if they’d managed to regain their individual powers of decision-making and cognition-the humans were doomed. The mechs numbered something close to a third of the population of Ignis Glace, but numbers weren’t the only determiner of victory in a struggle. The truth was any mech was more than a match for a human being in combat. They were stronger, faster and more durable.

  Perhaps, she told herself, the mechs weren’t true rebels. Perhaps they were under the direction of a group of knight-errants who had somehow figured out how to reprogram them and suborn their loyalty. Even that was a grim thought, but it was less alarming than the idea of a mech uprising.

  As she tried to weigh these possibilities, she could not erase from her mind the strange sight of a mech dressed up like a man. Why would a mech don a cape and scarf? Of what possible use might these articles be to him? He had no need of a blanket to wrap up in while sleeping upon the ground at night, which the primary purpose of a nobleman’s cape. Even more unimaginable was any conceivable requirement for a scarf.

  Nina trudged for hours before reaching the safety of the shadow cast by Droad Mountain. Almost immediately after she passed into the cool shadowlands, she found herself surrounded by greenery. She relished the sensation as the lavender gloom of her Droad Fief close over her. It was an odd thing, living one’s life in the shadow of a single mountain, but to Nina it seemed like home. The lack of sunlight was not total, of course. The sky and the surrounding lands provided enough ambient light to keep plants alive and was sufficient to read by. The air was warm, but not hot. It was always breezy, especially at the borders where the heat of the desert perpetually met the wetter, cooler air of the shadowlands. There were updrafts and downdrafts. Frequently, swirls of sparkling dust formed dust-devils to wander and dance over the landscape.

  As she walked into deepening shadow, the plants swiftly changed in nature. She left behind scrubby, spiky growths such as witch-wort and skitterweed. The interior was lush with first grasses then full-fledged trees. Earthly palms ruled much of the landscape, being well-suited to the steamy heat this close to Sunside. Deeper still in the shadowlands, the growth became pervasive and the palms gave way to true jungle trees such as bezzel, korkholz and huge, hoary mangroves.

  The central region was less stormy and more suitable to farming. Nina reached the first huddled village after an hour’s walk through the forest. The town was named Brienz, and squatted at the edge of a still, glassy lake. She followed a path along the rocky shoreline toward town. The lake itself teemed with fish. Unlike earthly aquatic creatures, the fish on Ignis Glace were more intelligent, interactive creatures. As she passed the lake, schools of them poked their bulbous eyes above the surface to observe her. Some varieties cooed at her in greeting. On a better day, Nina might have waved back at them. Today, her brother had died and she wasn’t in the most pleasant of moods. She tossed a small stone in the midst of the watching fish. They hooted in alarm and darted away to the cool depths of their watery home, where they no doubt huddled in fear.

  Brienz had ragged steel walls, varying in height from ten feet to thirty. The rivets ran with rust stains down the metal sides and cameras followed her progress as she approached. Before she’d come closer than a hundred yards, the town watchman peeped over the top of the wall and called for her identify herself.

  Once the villagers were certain who she was, they gathered around to walk with her. They wailed at the news her brother was dead and embraced her. Nina knew their grief was genuine. She and her twin were popular with the common folk-unlike her mother.

  Nina was offered a cart, which she refused. She did take a mount, however, an old model which squeaked, shivered and farted fumes as she rode upon it. She did not complain, knowing it was the best the villagers could provide. She promised to return it, and rode the beastly thing all the way upslope to the castle.

  This final leg of the journey filled her with a growing sense of dread. Her mother must have heard by now of her brother’s death. It was no secret among the folk of Droad fief that Leon was her favorite and that Nina was despised. Nina had never understood her mother’s irritation with her. She’d done her best since puberty to avoid the witch, a feat she found was easily done. Mother seemed content to stay at Droad House forever while Nina preferred to roam the borderlands in search of what adventure there was to be had.

  Droad House, once a simple affair, was now clad in walls of dark stone. The castle looked far better than Brienz with its rusty metal defenses, but it was also less inviting. Squatting at the top of the slope in the center of the deepest mountain shadows, the light here was forever muted, and the air was forever cool and wet. Birds sat quietly along the crenulated wall-tops, watching her with curiosity. The much noisier fish in the moat cooed or growled up at her as she crossed the drawbridge, depending on their dispositions.

  It had been months since she’d dared walk through these gates. As she passed the stone gatehouse, she noted the smooth surfaces looked blue in the dim light, rather than gray. The waters of the moat were likewise inky-black and utterly still, except for the burbling fish. They poked their heads up to sniff for her scent and filled the air with new odd cries when the recognized her.

  Inside the gatehouse, the human retainers were nowhere to be seen. There were only perrupters here, one on each side. They were armed as usual, with a cannon and a single gripper free to grab a peasant’s throat or the power-sword that was strapped to their midsections. The mechs made no attempt to greet her. Olivia Droad had ordered them to stay quiet, saying she found their silence preferable to false human voices. Nina found them much more threatening when they did not speak. Perhaps that was her mother’s true intent.

  As Nina passed to the inner keep, the gates closed behind her with a rattle of chain-drives and squealing metal. She glanced back in surprise. She could not recall the last time she’d seen the drawbridge pulled up and the gates closed.

  Her mother waited for her, sitting stiffly on her throne of reptile skins. She said nothing as Nina approached, but instead stared with burning dark eyes. There was little light in this place, only the flicker of electric wall-torches in the four corners served to illuminate it.

  The builders of Droad House had begun with a simple cut-stone farmhouse. But as the power of the family grew, so had their pride and seeking of status. They’d built a medieval replica of an Old Earth castle eventually, some seven decades back. This was stylish at the time and helped garner council votes for advancement into the titled ranks.

  Nina fell to one knee, and bowed her head. “Mother-” she began.

  “Do not dare address me in that fashion,” Olivia snapped.

  Nina paused and blinked. If not mother, then how should she address this woman? Olivia surely wasn’t going to be acceptable. She decided to be as formal as possible, as her mother loved formalities.

  “Baroness Droad,” she said. “I beg your forgiveness.”

  The customary response would have been a nod at least, but her mother remained motionless. She only stared malevolently.

  Tears welled up in Nina’s eyes. Her mother knew the facts, but it was Nina’s duty to report them anyway. She did not know how to officially inform a woman that her favorite child was dead, but she was determined to do just that-it was her duty. “I have grave news to report-” she began.

  “Grave news?” Olivia echoed suddenly. She laughed then. It was a strange sort of laugh-there was nothing healthy or mirthful about it. Nina had never heard someone cackle before, but the term fit the sound her mother made.

  “Grave news indeed!” Olivia continued. “Such a way you have with words, girl. Is this your conception of a joke? Is this some twisted manner of speech, meant to lighten the mood?”

  Nina paused, at a loss for words. Tears glistened on her cheeks. “I
–I don’t know what to say. My twin has perished. My beloved Leon-”

  Baroness Droad lurched up from her throne, as might a puppet whose strings had been harshly yanked by a cruel master. She was suddenly erect and looming atop the dais. She was taller than her daughter, and despite her age, one could tell she had once been athletic and beautiful, just as Nina herself was today.

  The Baroness pointed an accusatory finger at Nina. She sucked in her breath and shook her head. She let a crystal goblet drop from her hand to smash upon the stone steps that led up to the throne. Nina had not noticed the goblet before, but now she could see the bluish wisps of vapor that rose from it.

  “You’ve been drinking, mother. You are not yourself in your grief.”

  Her mother laughed at that. It was a full-fledged laugh. “For so many long years you have haunted me, girl. Now, you’ve done your worst. I suffered your existence as no other of my rivals was ever tolerated. You were the viper I took to my bosom. Do you know that when you suckled, you were the one that always bit me?”

  Nina opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had seen people in grief, she had seen people intoxicated by the maddening drug known as blur-dust, but this was the first time she’d encountered both at the same time. She tried to think of a way to defuse the situation, but none came to mind. She decided to ignore her mother’s odd behavior, make the report that chivalry demanded, and exit the castle as quickly as possible. Her mother was bound to come to her senses in time.

  “We met with a force of mechs, Baroness,” she said, standing at attention as her mother staggered down the remaining steps toward her. “They were not guided by any human group we could see. They ambushed us in the near desert of Sunside. We were overwhelmed, and somehow they disabled our perrupters. I was knocked senseless-”

  “And your brother was killed, removing him from the line of succession. Yes, I know your plans, girl. If anything, this proves you really did sprout from my womb, despite everything I’ve felt to the contrary.”

  “Wha-what?”

  “You heard me. You arranged this. You were twins, but you came into this gloomy house five minutes after your brother. He was thus the elder, and set to inherit everything.”

  Nina shook her head, not so much in denial, but as if to clear it. How could she be hearing these foul words? How could her mother suspect her of such evil?

  After standing and gaping for a few seconds, something her mother had said managed to penetrated her thoughts. That this imagined murder of Leon reminded mother of herself. “Mother, are you saying you killed someone to reach your station?”

  Her mother cackled again. She walked to a table carved with dark hardwood and poured herself a fresh goblet of blue, wisping liquid. She sipped it and hissed in pleasure.

  “Of course I did. Did you think all I did was sleep with your father? A dozen girls could have taken that easy route. After any contest, examine the winner. Rarely will you find the contestant that took the easiest path.”

  “Who then? Who did you remove from your path?”

  Olivia huffed. “Have I not been clear? If there are a dozen girls, and you are perhaps in the middle of the line-up-the math seems clear. By removing the first five or six, you have just reached the front of the line. What could be more obvious?”

  Nina shook her head in shock. Her mother had killed to reach her station? Killed rival women? She now recalled stories of her youth, things whispered of grim times before her birth. Her father, Lucas Droad, had possessed another wife before Olivia, that much she knew. She’d died long ago…could her mother have had something to do with that? She looked at her mother with new, horror-filled eyes.

  “Not father’s first wife?”

  Olivia shrugged. “Why not? The woman was a cow.”

  Nina put a hand to her mouth. She felt heartsick in an entirely different fashion. Suddenly, she felt she understood her father’s exit from this world as she never had before. Who would want to live with such a horrid woman?

  Olivia busied herself with another goblet. This one she lifted and offered to Nina.

  “Here,” she said. “Since we are truly the same flesh, perhaps we can come to an understanding. Take this drink and toast me, daughter of mine. You are now my only heir.”

  Another girl might have accepted the toast, but within Nina’s person was not only the heart of Lucas Droad, but also her mother’s temper. She drew her sword instead and slashed the goblet from her mother’s fingers. The power-sword in Nina’s hand had appeared with startling speed and she’d flicked it on in the same automatic motion, as the armsmen of the castle had taught her to do. It was only good fortune that she hadn’t cut away a portion of the Baroness’ hand as well as the goblet itself.

  The blur-dust laden alcohol steamed in a slurry mess on the flagstones. Shards of broken glass reflected the light of the power-sword, which ran with plasma. The smell of the blur-dust vapors filled the room and stung Nina’s eyes.

  Olivia nodded, as if unsurprised. “I offer you peace, and you draw your weapon and threaten me in my own chambers. I can see your ambitions exceed a single step forward. You are not content with being next in line to this throne, are you? In a way, I suppose I should be prideful.”

  “No. No, mother-”

  “Do not bother to deny it, child. These things are in the genes, you see. It is nothing to feel ashamed of. Unfortunately, only one woman can rule. It is not your time, nor will it ever be. Perrupters!”

  Nina’s head twisted from side to side. The mechs that stood in each of the room’s four corners had each taken an immediate step forward. They had stood still all this time, as they always did, one under each of the four flickering artificial torches that illuminated the throne room. They now were at attention, awaiting their orders.

  “Mother, I only feared that the wine was poisoned. I’ve done you no harm.”

  “Of course it was poisoned, girl. Perrupters, take this assassin to the dungeons. Put her in the flooded cells. She is to be disarmed, chained, and left for the fish-rats to feed upon.”

  Nina took a step back and tried to look at all four of the perrupters at once, which was quite impossible. Her eyes were wide, and they stung from staring in fear. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and she felt mildly ill. How could all this be happening? How could all the worst moments of her life be wrapped up into a single heart-wrenching day?

  But the perrupters did nothing. Nina watched them, but they did not do so much as twitch. Her mother hissed in vexation.

  “I should have changed their conditioning years ago,” Olivia said.

  There was a blinding flash, and Nina felt her arm go numb. She looked down and saw her right hand was missing. It was on the floor now, impossibly it seemed to her. The fingers still gripped the hilt of her saber and the blade ran with sparking plasma.

  Nina fell to her knees in shock. Olivia stood over her, smiling for the first time today. It was a grim smile, without revealed teeth or any hint of joy. It was a smile of vengeful triumph. In her mother’s hand was her own power-sword, a blade which ran with pale green wavering pulses of force. She’d slashed off Nina’s hand while the girl eyed the perrupters.

  “I had a deal with your father, you know,” Olivia said, holding her sword high for a killing stroke. “When he received the summons from the Nexus, he left two infants in my care. It was not only duty that drew him to the high post at the Nexus. He did not approve of my methods of social advancement, and I’d tired of him in general. I promised him no one else would be slain in pursuit of my ambitions, if he swore never to return. Thus he gave me sole rulership of Droad House in his absence. Today however, I must break that pact with your father, as you have forced my hand.”

  Nina waited no longer. She still had her brother’s sword on her waist. Her remaining hand moved without warning. There was a blurring arc of white fire as her brother’s sword blazed into life. In a single slashing motion, Nina drew the blade from with her left hand and flicked it outward, cutt
ing low. The blade sizzled and smoked as it cut her mother in half.

  Disturbed by the sudden violence, the four mech perrupters twitched and shuffled, but there was nothing they could do. Conditioned to protect the entire family, they could not interfere when the various members fought amongst themselves.

  Nina struggled to her feet. Her hand had been severed diagonally across the metacarpal bones. The wound had been cauterized by the power-sword, and although it ached dreadfully, it did not bleed much.

  She looked down at Baroness Olivia Droad, whose eyes still burned, but with a diminishing light. The Baroness was in shock and beyond speech. Her upper half twisted upon the floor, dying rapidly.

  “I’m truly sorry, mother,” Nina said. “I did not want to ascend in this manner. But I knew I might have to slay you when I came here on this cursed day. I suppose, in a way, you were right to fear me. I am your daughter, after all.”

  Eight

  Over the next standard year, Sixty-Two advanced his cause to unexpected heights. Legions of mechs now followed him, conditioned to obey his will alone. Most of them were laborers retrained to wield guns and swords. Some were combat models, captured via EMP blasts and enslaved with rewritten software and conditioning modules.

  This last fact bothered Sixty-Two. He realized he’d started this campaign to free himself, but it had grown since then. He was now responsible for the status of thousands of mechs, all those that were not under the command of some human or another. The irony of the situation did not escape him. He had wanted only his own freedom, but was now the master of thousands.

  He’d thought at first he was a hero-a liberator of an enslaved people, a people he himself had been forcibly sentenced to join. Unfortunately, whenever he encountered new mechs, they resisted him, as they were conditioned to defend their masters. This often meant violence and deactivation, followed by reconditioning. But therein lay the philosophical difficulty: if Sixty-Two simply reprogrammed the mechs to follow his orders rather than the orders of their human masters, was he any better than those original despots? The fact he was a mech himself did not absolve him completely. The situation was indisputable: he had fancied himself a liberator, but had become a replacement tyrant who led an army of obedient slaves.