The Complete Clockwork Chimera Saga

by Scott Baron

  “We currently have fifty-seven pulse rifles, and have been able to stockpile over two thousand charges worth of pulse packs.”

  “That is a sizable quantity,” Craaxit said, impressed.

  “Yet not enough. Not by a long shot. We have nearly one hundred able-bodied Chithiid in this facility alone, all ready to fight for our cause, yet barely half will be armed.”

  “There may be a solution, my friend. We are not yet in possession of the specific modifications, but there is a possibility we may yet be able to utilize our power whips in an offensive manner.”

  “And what of the remote shut off?”

  “I had not heard of such a thing,” Craaxit said, lowering his voice as a dusty group of workers returned from their day’s work.

  “It is a new addition. Something caused the Ra’az to make alterations to all whip units before checking them out to work teams, starting two days ago. All facilities appear to be at a state of increased alert, though we do not know why.”

  Craaxit furrowed his brow.

  “There is nothing for it, then. We shall have to work with the weapons and ammunition at our disposal. If we are successful, more will come into our possession as we proceed.”

  A young Chithiid slowed his walk as he passed, casting a curious eye on the two men obviously discussing something they wished to remain private. Craaxit noted the distinctive scar peeking out from beneath the man’s short sleeve.

  Loyalist.

  “As I said, we appreciate your efforts in the south-eastern sectors. There is indeed much good salvage there,” Craaxit said somewhat loudly.

  The Chithiid at his side caught on quickly.

  “Ah, yes. We will provide much in the way of valuable materials for the Ra’az. This should be a highly productive period if our projections hold true.”

  Let down by the run-of-the-mill conversation, the loyalist quickened his pace and joined the rest of his work team.

  “We must be careful, Craaxit. This facility is especially rife with loyalist scum.”

  “As we have just noted,” he replied grimly. “Tell the others and carry on with your regular tasks. But keep in mind, plans are at work.”

  “We have saved these materials in hopes the day would someday come for us to rise up.”

  Craaxit clasped the man’s shoulders in a gesture of friendship.

  “That day may be here sooner than you expect.”

  Commander Mrazich did a quick double-take as he rounded the corner to the long hallway that was leading him to Daisy’s quarters on Dark Side Base.

  “What is it, Commander?” Fatima asked, nearly bumping into him as his stride faltered.

  “What? Oh, nothing. I just could have sworn I saw Swarthmore a second ago.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, a bit of concern tinging her voice. “You know as well as I do that Daisy is tens of thousands of miles below us.”

  “I know. I’m just exhausted, is all.”

  Commander Mrazich continued walking in silence.

  Freya had locked the base comms open and was always listening to the happenings there. They often had funny conversations, but this in particular she found especially amusing.

  “Silly people,” she said to herself with a chuckle. “Daisy isn’t here, I just heard her comms transmission on Earth. That wasn't very nice, though. She said she wan't going to leave me alone, but she did anyway,” Freya said sadly.

  Fatima noted Mrazich’s furrowed brow.

  “Commander?”

  “Like I said, it’s nothing. Even with the stim-caps, the lack of sleep is getting to me, is all,” he replied as they reached Daisy’s closed door. “Okay, Sid. Unlock Swarthmore’s quarters, please.”

  “Unlocking now, Commander,” the AI informed them.

  The doors slid open silently.

  “All right, we’re looking for Daisy’s notes on drones, remote cruisers, and patched-in AI theories. Chu would know better what to look for, but I don’t want to drag him away from his work when he’s making such good progress,” Mrazich said. “I guess we’ll just have to start at one end and dig until we––”

  “Found them,” Fatima chirped.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Found them. Her written notes and the work tablets are all right on the table.”

  The grizzled soldier looked at the table nearest the doorway. Indeed, their search was over as soon as it began.

  “Finally,” he said, allowing himself a rare smile. “Something was actually easy for a change. Do me a favor and get these to Chu. While he digs into the data, I want to follow up with both ships’ progress. From what Donovan noted earlier, they may have stumbled upon a goldmine of useful materials.”

  Sid sealed the doors behind them as they strode off with purpose. Things seemed to be brightening on Dark Side, if only for a moment.

  Tamara’s sweat had dried in the air-conditioned breeze on the long walk back to Joshua’s command and control center. The nicks and cuts acquired during the frantic scramble from the automatic defense cannons’ barrage, however, would take a bit longer than that to heal.

  “I’m glad to see you made it back safely. That was a very innovative thing you did out there, Jonathan. Very innovative, indeed.”

  “Thank you, sir. It just seemed like the best course of action at the time.”

  “Very out-of-the-box thinking. You know, I always had a fondness for your model. Lots of potential built into those systems. It looks like today was your day to shine.”

  “You hear that? Props from the big man. High five! ––Oh, yeah,” Tamara joked.

  “Such a bitch,” Duke said with an appreciative laugh. “That’s just cold!”

  “Says the tin man.”

  “High-tensile composite, actually,” he retorted.

  “I thought you’d like to know that your work was not for nothing. The data cable you reconnected has afforded me a modicum of control of the systems at that hub, though it’ll still take me probably a day to get those cannons rebooted and under control. Maybe two. In any case, well done.”

  “A day, maybe two?” Tamara asked, eyebrow raised questioningly. “You don’t know down to the minute? I mean, you’re this massively powerful super computer, and you’re telling me you don’t know?”

  “I have a very good idea, of course, but this is more than a little out of parameters, so some guesswork is to be anticipated.”

  “So, the guy in charge of all the missiles is guessing.”

  “Well, maybe a bit better than guessing,” Joshua said with a little laugh. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret I imparted to my men when they began working under the humans who ran the base.”

  “Oh?”

  “Always make sure to beat your deadlines. It makes you look good.”

  Tamara laughed loudly.

  “Ha! I know that one all too well. Under promise and over perform, I always say. That way you never come up short.”

  “Precisely. A few hundred years ago I referred to it as the ‘Scotty Principal,’ though I am afraid all the fans of twentieth century television programs are long deceased.”

  “Scotty?”

  “A fictional spaceship engineer who always managed to beat the ticking clock for some crucial upgrades or repairs. The base commander and I were in agreement that the character likely knew well in advance that a particular task would only take an hour to complete, but would nevertheless say, ‘It can’t be done!’ just to set the bar high. Then he could take his time and still finish the task long before the deadline. Engineers aren’t usually the hero, after all, but he was treated as one more often than not.”

  “Not my kind of entertainment, usually, but that sounds interesting, actually,” Tamara mused. “If we don’t all die, I may have to borrow some of Captain Harkaway’s old video files. I’m willing to bet he has that one.”

  “I’m pretty sure the fellas have that one in the barracks, Tamara,” Duke said. “If you can’t wait, that is.�
��

  “I may take you up on that.”

  “Excellent. But right now, there’s something I need to do,” Duke said. “Come on, Johnny boy, follow me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The stocky cyborg led his smaller friend down the corridors until they arrived at the armory. A half dozen cybernetic soldiers were standing by, waiting.

  “Um... what’s going on?” Jonathan asked, slightly nervous.

  “Fellas, this is Jonathan. He saved our butts back there. Real forward-thinker, this guy.”

  The assembled cyborgs each shook his remaining hand in greeting, offering warm pats on the shoulder and thanks for what he did.

  “Did you actually cut off your own hand?” one asked.

  “Technically, I wasn’t the one who cut it off,” he replied, eliciting a round of raucous laughter from the commando team.

  “Oh yeah. This guy’s gonna fit right in!”

  “I know, right?”

  “I’m sorry?” Jonathan said, a bit confused. “What exactly is going on?”

  “You’re one of us, now, Johnny boy,” Duke informed him.

  “But I am not a reinforced military-grade unit. I’m just a domestic assistant.”

  “Not anymore, you aren’t. The actions make the man, and your actions spoke loud and clear. From this day forward, no matter what anyone tells you, you’re part of our team.”

  “I-I do not know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say. You’re one of us. Now, in the old days, we’d have taken you out to get the squad tattoo.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing his fleshless arm. “But seeing as how that’s not really an option anymore...”

  Two teammates snuck up behind the poor cyborg and dumped a bucked of synthetic joint lubricant over his head, laughing robustly as they did.

  “What the––?” he exclaimed.

  Duke pulled him in for a hearty hug.

  “Welcome to the team, buddy.”

  Jonathan knew he didn’t have a heart beating in his metal chest, but for just a moment, he knew what organic men must have felt in similar moments.

  Pride, and a sense of belonging to something bigger than himself.

  Daisy’s loop tube pod made it to Los Angeles in a straight shot with no problems. Whatever Ra’az vessels may have been in the area above the subterranean system previously, had apparently moved on to other pastures.

  She and Sergeant Franklin quickly exited their seats and strode into the waiting transit hub. The cyborgs waiting to greet them looked at Franklin with something akin to awe.

  “Fellas, this is Sergeant George Franklin. Do me a solid and show him around, would ya?” Daisy said.

  “It would be an honor,” a dapper mechanical man said. “Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, noting the sturdy tin man’s reinforced frame.

  “Great to meet you too,” George said warmly as he strode up to him and firmly shook his hand. “You know, I’ve heard great things about LA, but I never had the chance to visit it myself before the––well, you know. But first, I’d love to check in with your regional AI.”

  “Oh, just ask. Cal is always with us.”

  He looked at Daisy, caught up in the throng.

  “Of course he is, but how about we make it more personal? Can you show me to the nearest command room?”

  “How silly of me. Of course. Please, follow me!”

  George gave a small, knowing nod to Daisy as he and his fawning entourage walked away, leaving her alone, free to deal with the most important part of her return.

  Standing in the doorway to the quiet room not so far from the transit hub, Daisy stared at Vince as he lay in his cot. His color was much improved since she had left for Colorado, but despite his improved appearance, he was still not showing any signs of regaining consciousness.

  Slowly, she walked to his bed, bent down, and gently kissed his forehead.

  “Don’t leave, Vince. If you’re in there, please, don’t leave.”

  Daisy wiped her leaking eyes and cursed whoever was chopping onions as she shifted gears in her head, focusing on heading out to find Craaxit. She was almost out of his chemical marking compound, but she had a feeling he would be nearby and keeping an eye out for her.

  If nothing had happened to him, that is.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daisy placed the marking gel well before sunset. She had done a quick recon and felt confident the area was secure, so she took the extra time to gather some berries from nearby bushes she had previously spotted. Even so, she still arrived at their meeting place a bit early as the sun just began dipping beneath the horizon.

  She had been waiting patiently for nearly an hour when she heard the tall alien quietly singing to himself as he approached.

  “Sounds like what he was singing the other week,” Sarah noted.

  Yeah, I think it’s the same, Daisy confirmed. You know, it’s actually not bad, once you get used to the cadence.

  “To a non-Chithiid speaker, it sounds like a bunch of warbling noise.”

  I guess I can see that, but the rhythm and tones, though a bit guttural, are still pleasant, in their own alien sort of way.

  Daisy played the sounds in her memory, then repeated a few seconds of the song in her head.

  “Hey, how did you do that so fast?”

  Do what?

  “Sing along.”

  I guess I’m just an excellent mimic, Daisy replied with a little smile, then composed herself as she heard her friend’s footsteps grow near.

  Craaxit entered the abandoned space with a relaxed gait before abruptly stopping his song when he saw Daisy.

  “I saw your marks, Daisy, but was not expecting you to arrive here for our meeting before me.”

  “I wasn’t needed among the others, so I had a bit of free time to collect berries. Would you like to try some?”

  The tall alien turned his four eyes toward the offered treat.

  “I have seen these occasionally in the city. More than once my clothing has been stained by their juices. They are edible, you say?”

  “Yeah, they’re sweet. Unless your kind are allergic to fruit, you should be fine.”

  “Many of our foodstuffs are generated by native vegetation. I believe my digestive system can handle it.”

  Craaxit took a plump berry from her hand and cautiously dropped it on his tongue, then proceeded to slowly chew it. A curious expression formed on his face.

  “Hmm, that is an interesting flavor.”

  “Good interesting, or bad interesting?” Daisy asked.

  “Just interesting. Unusual. We have different tasting apparatus than humans, so undoubtedly your foods will elicit a different reaction among my kind. But come, sit. I have also brought food for us both. Let us eat and talk. We have much to catch up on. Many things have happened in your absence.”

  “Thank you, Craaxit. Indeed, there is quite a bit to discuss,” she said, taking a bite from the offered food.

  “What the hell is that, Daze?”

  Tastes like some kind of weird alien energy bar thing, she said, noting the bar appeared to be some sort of fibrous baked bread product with a rather bland mystery paste in the middle.

  “You think it’s safe?”

  Well, it tastes all right going down. Hopefully there aren’t any issues on the other end.

  “Oh jeez. Really?” Sarah chuckled.

  “Do not fear,” Craaxit said, noting her hesitation as she tasted the food. “This is compatible with your digestive system. A combination of refined energy sources derived from plants designed to provide maximum nutrition.”

  Daisy chewed slowly.

  “Verdict?” Sarah asked.

  The flavor isn’t bad, once you know what to expect.

  “Your generosity is appreciated, Craaxit,” she said, taking another bite.

  Craaxit popped another berry in his mouth, the flavor growing on him.

  “These are not bad at al
l, actually,” he mused.

  “Craaxit, what was that you were singing when you arrived?” Daisy asked. “I had no idea someone as ugly as you could sing something so pretty,” she joked with a playful smile.

  “I am not ugly. I am beautiful,” he replied with a sideways grin. “My wife often told me as much.”

  “Yeah, wives do that,” Daisy replied with a chuckle.

  He sang a passage for her again, and as Daisy relaxed her ears and let the native words flow in, she realized it actually was kind of beautiful. Beautiful in a strange, guttural, alien way, that is.

  “This is the song of my family,” Craaxit said. “Singing it brings me comfort. These songs are an oral tradition, passed down through the family line. Every Chithiid from their earliest childhood learns the one particular to their family. All of our songs are similar in some regards, binding us together as a people, yet each possessing nuance of tone, and subtlety of language unique to its singer’s line. Here, listen again,” he said.

  Daisy listened with an open mind, rolling the melody and words in her head like a sommelier would roll a complex wine across their tongue. After a few moments, she realized her memory had, once again, managed to capture something with near-photographic clarity.

  Slowly, Daisy formed a new sound in her mouth, haltingly at first, as her tongue shifted to an unusual position. Then, when she felt she had a grasp of the mechanics of it, she softly sang a few lines of the song.

  Craaxit stopped singing and stared at her.

  “What is it?” Daisy asked, self-conscious. “I’m sorry, Craaxit. I realize it is your family’s song. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “It is not that, Daisy. I take no offense. It is just that you have revealed a rather surprising ability yet again.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

  “But, Sung Chithiid is different than spoken, and your pitch is a bit off.”

  “Which part am I doing wrong?”

  He assessed his human friend a moment.

  “I shall teach you the song of my family. It is not something that is done, but ours is the first partnership of its kind, and I am glad to help you understand my people,” he replied. “Traditionally, a Chithiid only ever sings the song of his own family, and you are the first––the only––human to ever utter this song from their lips.”