Lair

by Carl Stubblefield

  The new tech they would develop would bring the regs to their side, and the augmentations they devised for their supers would make them an unstoppable army. Methiochos believed his solid leadership would help unite people into one world government, with him at the head, of course. The fragmented Factions and impotent world governments would eventually come to his side when they saw that opposition would be fruitless.

  Methiochos scanned the bridge, looking for Dara to give her some instructions on how to mobilize the crew when they reached the island. He was surprised to find her absent, which was uncharacteristic for her usually organized, perfectionist personality.

  He queried his control console and only received the reply: ‘No personnel found that match search parameters.’ Furrowing his brow, Methiochos went below-decks to see if he could find Dara in her quarters. The door was locked, and even with his command override, he could not open the doors.

  He would have to find someone to surreptitiously open her chambers without arousing concern and alarming the crew. Something was off here, and the cool confidence he had felt was beginning to ebb with these unforeseen complications. It was probably nothing, he assured himself. Turning, he made his way to maintenance.

  ###!###

  Methiochos came back to the present, retracting two specialized tendrils from the magma, sensing he could absorb no more of the energy for now. More and more was coming back to him after each cycle of absorbing energy and growing. Soon he would surpass his old limits.

  While the nature of his new opponent was still unclear, he knew one thing: He could not let anyone but himself access the manor’s full functions. Especially now. He did not know how they were able to pass the bio-stasis field, but his enemies were relentless. His former allies were even more so. If they were able to destroy his entire crew and cripple him in the process, they were formidable. He clenched a fist in the dark, anger building from the scattered memories he could piece together.

  “We have grown!”

  Methiochos had to calm his mind and push down the Dark. He had less control over it when strong emotions manifested. It was becoming easier the more he regained consciousness, but it was always there on the fringes, probing for an opening. Methiochos had grown too, though. He did not fatigue the same way he did before everything happened. While annoying, he could meet the Dark and he would prevail against it. As well as anyone who dared to cross him.

  ###!###

  Day 6 9:21 AM

  7:03:13 remaining

  Gus headed to the control center. He had originally planned to go hunting or grab some fruit, but an idea came to him: Didn’t the manor support numerous robots of all types and shapes, that were supposed to support a large crew of humans? Why was he wasting time trying to do everything himself? He needed to find some robots to gather food, and hopefully some kind of chef to cook him meals.

  Checking his stats, he found he had a whopping 2300 FP. He had to search through a lot of departments before he found what he wanted in the auxiliaries menu. Various types of gathering robots and drones existed. Auxiliaries management was cheap at 1000 FP and allowed existing bots of various types to be accessed and programmed. It would allow him access to most of the drones and robots in the manor and he could task them with mundane jobs that were sapping his time. He was alone for the foreseeable future, and it was the only way to delegate necessary but time-squandering responsibilities.

  Gus then found food preparation bots as a sub-department of the Cafeteria. Unlocking both would cost 2000 FP. Gus spent the points and wondered if he was being too hasty spending his facility points. It was a little extravagant, but saving time and focusing more on his development would possibly be a life-saver. He hesitated but the thought of saving hours hunting and gathering pushed him to make the choice. Squinting his eyes, he pecked the enter button and confirmed the choice.

  After playing around with some settings, he found he could task the gather-bots to take suggestions from the chef-bots. Setting them to explore and gather, he backed away from the facility controls. He was surprised to see he had spent almost an hour reading and exploring the options to find what he needed. His display was getting perilously close to the seven-day threshold when Nick said he would start to notice things shutting down.

  He found that he could upgrade the arena when he reached level ten, and more involved training options could be accessed. It definitely would be on the list. There were an insane amount of items that he never thought he would get to use, but the labs were intriguing. The only problem was that there was no staff to man them. With titles like ‘Spatial translocation amplification,’ ‘Power combinatorics,’ and ‘Biopolymer strength augmentation boosts,’ Gus’ interest was piqued, to say the least, but he tore himself away. He didn’t have time to dwell on this. He needed 3750 XP as quickly as possible.

  Realistically, Gus was probably many levels from being able to access the fruits of what the manor had to offer.

  He felt better after leaving and entering the elevator. He had to stop obsessing about the far future. Focus on what was important now. That would really be the worst, to have an amazing augmentation that was a hundred levels above his ability to use. It did make Gus wonder what he would do if he had the opportunity to recruit people to help him take full advantage of the manor. That could really be a game changer. But first things first. Best not to get too far ahead of himself, he thought, remembering a typical conversation with his father.

  ###!###

  “Gus, you need to set some reasonable goals for a change,” Tempest lectured.

  A fourteen-year-old Gus had mentioned to his father his desire to run for class president. “I think I have some good ideas—”

  “All those things are just popularity contests. I know you, Gus. You’re introverted and kind of a loner. Do you really think you can get enough votes? Here’s what will happen. You’ll make a half-hearted effort, then you will lose. Then you will get all sullen and sulk for a couple weeks…”

  Gus grit his teeth as a familiar wave of anger built up inside of him as his dad went on and on. Tempest just couldn’t keep from piling on the abuse. Why couldn’t he just believe in me for just once? Isn’t that what fathers should do?

  “…you start off strong on one of your ideas, and then you lose steam. It takes a certain kind of person to be a leader, and you haven’t really shown me any of those things. I work with people who lead on a daily basis. It’s not all fun and games.”

  “Dad, it’s just class president! There won’t be any decisions more important than what the decorations for the winter dance will be. Sheesh! Maybe I would follow through with more things if you weren’t such an unsupportive energy vampire!” Gus’ knuckles cracked with how hard he had balled his fists.

  “That’s it, Gus. Play the victim. Nothing’s ever your fault. Lay it on thick, I can take it. It’s all my fault. Everybody’s out to get you, even your father.” Tempest said in a sardonic sing-song that made Gus’ blood boil. He could never argue with his father. He had a talent for twisting words and Gus never knew how to respond. Well, maybe a couple days later as he stewed on it, he would think of the perfect comeback that he would never get to use.

  Gus looked down at his feet and mumbled, “Just forget it.” And Gus did just that. That is, he let the opportunity pass and crammed the emotions into the pressure-cooker that was his heart. He knew it wasn’t healthy, or mature, but who could he really talk to about it? He had to admit that he didn’t have any close friends. The fact that his father was partly correct in his assessment of Gus made him even more frustrated and angry. He was trying something new to try to change things. To feel like he mattered for once.

  Gus went to his room and started up a video game. It was one of the few things that allowed him to detach and feel just a little control of his world. He could let go and be the hero. Making a difference for some virtual people in trouble. It was dumb, but it worked. He always felt better. Plus, he had met some guys online who were into a
ll the same things he was.

  He didn’t have to try to be someone else, they were legitimately into sci-fi and fantasy. They got all his jokes and pop culture references. When they did a raid together, or some other co-op game, he felt a sense of brotherhood that he never felt in his own family. It was nice to just be accepted. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever meet them in real life, but he often imagined hanging out with them as friends. Life would be better, that was for sure.

  ###!###

  Things were different now, Gus thought. And he did meet those guys. He felt a pang of homesickness thinking about them. He hoped they were doing ok, wherever they were. He would do anything for them. If he ever got off this island, he would reconnect with them as soon as he could.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I Keep on Rising Up

  45 years ago…

  The tech stepped away and Methiochos pried the two bulky doors apart. The room inside was totally dark. Reaching inside, he turned on the room’s illumination and was startled at the disarray that assaulted his eyes. The room was in shambles, which was more shocking having seen it before in its pristine condition. Dara, who had no doubt seen disharmony and chaos in many of the minds she had to deal with using her power, chose to keep her own life rigidly structured and orderly.

  Everything had a place, a label, and a specific use. It was impressive to behold. The room before Methiochos was anything but orderly. Drawers had been unceremoniously dumped of their contents. The bed upended and the frame bent. The mattress filling torn and pulled out through the underside of the frame. The glass portholes were cracked and damaged; the existing light was muted by debris blocking many of the lamps and wall sconces.

  Methiochos’ eyes stopped on the air duct in the far corner. Claw marks scored the edges, but what alarmed him, even more, was that the pattern of the damage indicated something trying to get into the air ducts, not something trying to come out into Dara’s chambers. Whatever had been in here was now free, and it had taken her along with it. The display from earlier haunted him. ‘No personnel found…’ He doubted that Dara was even alive. Methiochos balled his fists and got on the comms to give some orders.

  ###!###

  Day 7 10:44 AM

  7:01:52 remaining

  A new tinkling tone surprised Gus, and he checked his display to investigate. The cafeteria had been open less than an hour and already had prepared something to eat. Letting the display guide him, Gus found the mess hall. The room was immense, with long tables arranged in orderly rows, with smaller circular and rectangular two-tops around the periphery. A drink dispensary looked like it had recently been cleaned and activated. One side of the unit dispensed hot drinks and the other, larger one had a variety of cold ones. The labels for the drinks looked vintage but he recognized most of the sodas he could try. There was an obvious bias for Mountain Dew, and Gus smiled, seeing that at least one corner of the universe was as it should be.

  He saw some bots working in the kitchen through a rectangular window, where food orders were passed from the kitchen to the serving staff. As he approached, a robot that resembled a large exclamation point, with a trapezoidal body, wide at the top and tapering down to a single fat wheel, must have sensed his presence. It made its way to the window and waited. A large bowl was delivered to the window and the serving bot unfolded thin telescoping arms from its sides and grabbed it.

  Delivering the bowl to the table next to where Gus was standing, the server-bot opened a receptacle on its chest and removed some utensils and placed them on the table. It then sped away toward the kitchen, disappearing behind two swinging double doors.

  Gus sat and surveyed his meal. It was a fruit salad made of multiple fruits that Gus had no idea were even available at the manor. There were fresh blueberries in it too, so there must be other areas where food had been growing that Gus didn’t know about.

  The taste was phenomenal. He soon finished and the same server bot returned as Gus stood and collected everything and returned back to the kitchen.

  Gus saw a pulsing tab on his display with a yellow symbol of a hammer and screwdriver crossed in an X. Mentally opening it, he could see the remaining items in his Foundry queue. The naginata was finished! Excited to try it out, he was going to head to the Foundry when Nick alerted him of another proximity alert trigger. At least they were far into the jungle path. Those sensors were doing their job!

  Gus cracked his knuckles, wishing that the zombies would’ve had the courtesy to wait until his armor was finished. Rude! Nothing to do about it though. Gus hurried to the Foundry to see his new weapon.

  When he arrived at the Foundry, lights on the catwalk directed him from the control room to a closed metal dispenser on one of the lower levels. It was darker here, some of the overhead lighting blocked by the metal walkways that crisscrossed amongst the machinery. Pushing a green button, the metal lid lifted with a dramatic hiss, and released a dense white foggy mist.

  Lying there on egg-crate foam was a long black naginata. It was exotic-looking and impressive, emanating danger. The blade glinted somehow in the dark, steamy room. The shaft was fashioned of polished ebony-colored material, with a filigreed silver band midway down the shaft.

  Gus reverently lifted the weapon from the conveyer; he could feel the tooled grips that compressed slightly, reminding him of the foam putty. The weight was surprisingly similar to the practice spears. Gus could not tell if this was made of lightweight metal or some kind of advanced polycarbonate, but the surface did feel cool to the touch. Three empty sockets were visible above the upper grip and the guard next to the blade. Gus ran his finger around one of the sockets, wondering what would fit in the shallow depression. He then examined the weapon to see its properties:

  Unnamed Glaive: Naginata (36-48)

  +20% slashing damage

  EverSharp (Blade does not dull)

  Do you wish to name this weapon now? (Y/N)

  Gus almost hit yes, then thought better of it. For some odd reason, the name Razorback just didn’t seem an appropriate fit. What if the weapon evolved like Nick, and no longer was ‘Razorback?’ He could always name the weapon later.

  Gus wanted to practice some swings and attacks, but the walkway and handrails would get in the way, so he made his way out of the Foundry. The cramped nature of the walkway made him realize that he would need an alternative secondary weapon for close quarter fighting. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need it for this upcoming fight with the zombies, but nothing ever tended to go the way he had planned.

  Gus thought he must have been imagining it, but it felt like the weapon ‘clicked’ into place when he picked it up by both grips. That feeling of excess energy welled up again, similar to when he woke in the morning. “Let’s see how this bad boy performs,” Gus said, heading out of the manor for the jungle.

  Activating Dash, he sped along the path and in no time was by the scene of his last battle with the Mantids. The remains were even more decayed than the Shamblers’, despite being killed more recently. Perhaps the Shamblers’ constitution boost extended to their entire body make-up.

  Gus tried to familiarize himself with the new weapon. It had a longer reach than other spears he had used, as well as having a long cutting edge instead of just a sharp pointed tip. The feel of the naginata was different enough that Gus began to doubt his choice of running out with a new weapon. Even though he had trained with a naginata, it hadn’t been this one. Think and stop being so impulsive for once!

  He almost turned back but decided that he would proceed cautiously and retreat if needed, fleeing to safety. He proceeded forward in small spurts, then stopped and listened for the telltale forest silence that warned of Dark Nth nearby. After traveling another mile, he finally noticed the change he was expecting. All went quiet, and Gus stopped dashing altogether and crept warily, listening for movement in the foliage. Finally relaxing to breathe, Gus tentatively cut a large frond away from the path then listened to see if the noise would trigger a zombie attack.
Nothing happened. He tried again, then paused. Again nothing. He was ready to retreat, but straining all his perception filters and listening, he noticed nothing besides the preternatural silence.

  Gus, you’re being stupid, head back.

  But he continued on, for some reason. He felt compelled to explore just a bit farther.

  Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.

  After thirty minutes of this, he became bolder in his movements and cleared the path more regularly, taking long pauses between hacking plants to listen for enemies.

  When the attack finally happened, Gus was totally caught off guard. A Shambler trudged forward, carrying something that resembled a bluish mass covered in tiny eyes surrounding a bowling-ball-sized eye in the center. The blob looked totally boneless and the eyes, facing in a multitude of directions, abruptly twitched, rotated, and all began looking at Gus.

  “Dag yo! That’s flipping gross!” Gus said, staring in equal parts disgust and morbid curiosity. Wreck-ognize activated just as Mantids began to drop from the canopy. *Thwok!* Two landed on either side of the Shambler. *Thwok!* Gus heard one dropping behind him. Gus dismissed the message without reading to face the threat.

  Damn, damn, damn! Gus’ eyes flitted everywhere as red dots began appearing all around him. Off to the sides of the path, similar noises betrayed that there were Mantids all around him. Gus felt a jolt of adrenaline and he started to panic. He had obviously underestimated these zombies! Gus activated Dash, moving away from the eyeball and retreating along the path. As he pulled away, he swore he could feel the impulse to come back to stare at the creature just a little bit more.