Synthezoids Endworld 30

by Robbins, David

  * * *

  Rilletta snapped awake. She was prone on her back, a black emptiness around her. The last she remembered was being attacked by....things....in the Valley of Shadow. She tried to sit up, and couldn’t. She tried to move her arms, her legs, only to find they were held fast. “Oh, God,” she said, and shivered in fear.

  The sound of her voice triggered a reaction. Lights came on, rectangles of illumination so bright they hurt her eyes. She squinted to reduce the glare.

  Somewhere there was a loud hum. Then a clang and a buzz.

  Rilletta tried to lick her lips but her mouth was too dry. “Orin?” she croaked. “Scragg? Big Bill? Anyone?”

  A series of beeps punctuated the humming.

  Rilletta squinted to her right and then her left, and ice formed in her veins. Tables were to either side. On them, clamped as she was, were some of her fellow scavengers. None responded when she called their names. She couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead.

  Rilletta closed her eyes. This was a nightmare beyond nightmare. The things that attacked them, she realized, must have brought them to this place. But where was it? In an instant the answer popped into her head: the Tower. It had to be. Her fear became raw terror.

  Horrifying stories were whispered around campfires at night about the vile edifice and its demented overlord. Stories so hideous, they weren’t to be believed.

  Rilletta always thought the tales were exaggerated. No one could be so sadistic and cruel. Not to that degree.

  A new sound fell on her ears, a sound that caused her breath to catch in her throat. The unmistakable tread of heavy steps, ominously approaching.

  Rilletta closed her eyes and pretended to be unconscious. The heavy steps came closer. The creature making them came abreast of her table, and the steps stopped. She sensed that whatever made them was right next to her.

  “Foolish human. I know you have revived. Open your eyes.”

  Rilletta couldn’t help herself. She gasped. The voice was deep, sonorous, and unnatural.

  “I won’t tell you again.”

  Rilletta kept them shut. She was too afraid to open them.

  “If you do not do as I say right this moment, I will pluck your eyeballs from their sockets and make you eat them.”

  Rilletta didn’t doubt the speaker would carry through with his threat. Fearfully, she cracked her eyelids.

  Beside her loomed a being seven to eight feet tall, broad at the shoulders, cloaked in a dark brown robe with a high hood. The robe hung loosely, suggesting he must have a thin build. From under the hood poked tufts of reddish hair, a shade that paled in comparison to the blazing red pupils of his eyes.

  Rilletta whimpered.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Rilletta tried to nod but her muscles were frozen.

  “Speak, or I will rip out your vocal chords.”

  Desperately, Rilletta attempted to swallow and finally managed to breathlessly sputter, “Everyone…says……dead."

  “Ah. Yes. The reports of my demise were premature. How do you terminate a consciousness that isn’t bound by the form it occupies?”

  “Wha.....what....?” Rilletta got out.

  “That’s all right. No need to answer. I shouldn’t expect you to possess a shred of intelligence.”

  “Please,” Rilletta said. “Don’t hurt me.”

  “The inevitable pathetic plea,” her captor said. “Unfortunately, the process you and your friends will shortly undergo involves a considerable degree of pain. The bonding process takes a while.”

  “Bonding?” Rilletta said in total confusion.

  “Yes. Here. Perhaps it will help you to comprehend if I permit you to gaze upon me.”

  Rilletta saw him reach up, saw the hood pulled back. Her heart beat wildly and her head whirled and she did the only thing she could do: she screamed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kanto liked to think he possessed more self-control than most. An iron will, after all, was the mental whet stone on which an assassin honed his lethal skills.

  He had taken the clash with the mutates in stride. The giants were unexpected but didn’t rattle him all that much. The chemical cloud frayed his nerves when it enveloped the SEAL but he didn’t give in to his fear.

  He’d kept his cool. He always kept his cool.

  Until now.

  When the huge metallic rectangle began to move, Kanto stood riveted in disbelief. Cracks or seams appeared in its smooth sides, and quickly widened. For a few harrowing moments he thought it was going to explode. Instead, whole sections shifted, some rising, some lowering, while openings appeared and appendages as thick as his legs extended from within and formed into definite shapes.

  “Kanto, get out of there!” Sherlock shouted.

  Galvanized into backpedaling, Kanto kept his eyes on the bizarre block as it continued to shift and move and transform into.....what? It was like watching a jigsaw puzzle come to life, the pieces sorting themselves to create a whole new image.

  Six long extensions now protruded, three from either side. At the end of each were thick circles of seeming metal, ringed by serrated talons or claws. Feet, evidently. Each slammed to the asphalt with a loud thump. At the same time, the rest of the outer shell was reshaping into overlapping scales, much like chain-mail. From out of the rear of the thing slid a tail that rapidly grew until it was longer than the ‘body’, with a curved stinger at the tip. As if that wasn’t enough, the end facing Kanto coalesced into insectoid features with multifaceted eyes and a mouth fringed with sawtooth fangs.

  “Run!”

  This time it was Rikki-Tikki-Tavi who bellowed. Wheeling, half-turned, Kanto thrust his AR 70 at the monstrosity and opened fire. The ping of his rounds was like the ping of hail on a metal shield. Sparks flew every which way. But none appeared to do more than nick the shiny surface.

  The SEAL burst into motion.

  Simultaneously, Crom’s head and shoulders appeared, and he took aim with his .50-caliber. “Get down!” he bawled.

  Kanto threw himself flat. He heard the boom of the M87R, saw the mechanical monster jolted by the impact. A large dent appeared in the chain mail. But the round failed to penetrate.

  Raising its tail high into the air, its legs pounding like pistons, the construct lumbered toward him.

  Kanto scrambled erect and ran for all he was worth. He was fleet of foot and confident he could reach the SEAL before the thing reached him. Then he looked back.

  The thing was gaining.

  Rikki wheeled the SEAL broadside. The wide passenger door flew open and Eleanor was there, holding the door and frantically beckoning.

  On the fly, Kanto leaped for the open door. He caught the rim and sought to pull himself inside but didn’t get a good grip. He would have fallen if not for Eleanor, who grabbed his wrist and practically flung him at the seat.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi shifted and sent the SEAL racing backward.

  The gleaming scorpion—-for that was how Kanto regarded it—-gave chase, rapidly picking up speed.

  The speedometer climbed to thirty, forty, fifty miles an hour, with Kanto marveling at how Rikki was able to drive so fast in reverse. The seasoned Warrior’s hand shot to the toggles, and the SEAL’s machine guns opened up. A leaden rainstorm struck the scorpion full-on, with little effect. The construct continued to gain. Rikki flicked a second toggle and sheets of flame erupted, yet the thing might have been made of solid rock for all the good the flames did.

  The SEAL swerved, and steadied, and Rikki applied the brakes. The instant they came to a stop, he stabbed another toggle.

  A rocket flared from out of its recessed housing behind the front grill. A streak of brilliance, it struck the scorpion in the head.

  The resultant explosion lifted the SEAL off its front wheels.

  Kanto clutched the dash to keep from being spilled. Crom was thrown against his door, and swore. Eleanor banged against the bucket seat. Sherlock, who was holding tight, grabbed her to steady her
.

  When Kanto looked out again, the scorpion lay sprawled on the road, a large jagged hole in the center of its head. Out of the hole came sparks and arcs and tiny lightnings.

  Destroyed! Kanto thought, elated, until the thing shook itself like a wet dog and slowly rose.

  “The rocket did no good!” Eleanor cried. “May the Lord preserve us!”

  “I’ve got your Lord right here,” Crom said, and pushing his door open, he jumped out.

  “Crom, wait!” Rikki said.

  Crom didn’t heed. His .50 up and trained, he fired as fast as was humanly possible.

  Kanto pushed on his door handle and jumped out to help.

  Someone beat him to it. From around the other side of the SEAL rushed Sherlock, one hand under that tweed cape of his. He threw something into the hole the rocket had made.

  Kanto braced for a blast but instead there was a muffled krump and black smoke poured out, rising in thick coils.

  Lurching to a stop, the scorpion was racked by a series of convulsions. Its scales and sides shifted and flowed, as if it were seeking to reform. It took an unsteady step. Then another.

  Sherlock was watching as if mesmerized. Apparently he didn’t see the creature’s tail rise to strike.

  Kanto did. Taking a long bound, he sprang, his arms spread wide. He caught hold of Sherlock about the waist and both of them tumbled and rolled.

  Rising into a crouch, Kanto prepared to sell his life dearly.

  But the scorpion was sinking to the highway, all motion stilled except for the shaking of its tail.

  Breathlessly, Kanto waited to see if it would rise again.

  Crom let out a whoop. “We took the sucker down!” Pumping his .50-cal, he walked up to the scorpion—-and kicked it.

  Sherlock rose and held out his hand to Kanto. “You put yourself in danger to save me. Thank you.”

  “It’s what Warriors do,” Kanto said.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Eleanor emerged, Rikki going up to the thing and tapping his katana against its scales. “Even my blade couldn’t penetrate these.” He glanced at Sherlock. “What did you use?”

  “Acid. I injected a glass sphere with certain chemical compounds. When the glass shatters and the chemicals are exposed to air, the mixture produces the acid.”

  “You have quite the bag of tricks, my good sir,” Eleanor said.

  “Doesn’t he, though?” Rikki said, and smiled at them. “Well done. All of you. Crom, you delayed it long enough that Sherlock was able to act. Kanto, you saved him or that act would have been his last.”

  “I didn’t do much,” Eleanor said, frowning.

  “You pulled Kanto inside when that thing was almost on him,” Rikki said. With a flourish, he slid his katana into its scabbard. “All of you acted as a team. As a unit. As a Triad.”

  “Technically, we’re a quartet,” Sherlock said.

  Everyone looked at him.

  “Please excuse my obsessiveness,” Sherlock said.

  “My point,” Rikki said, “is that you’re starting to mesh. Keep it up. Always be there for each other. It must come naturally to you, as natural as breathing.”

  “What I’d like to know,” Crom said while reloading his .50-caliber, “is what the hell is that thing? How did it change shape like that?”

  “More importantly,” Rikki said, “was it placed here specifically to stop us?”

  “Ask A.l.v.i.s,” Sherlock said.

  Crom looked up. “Say, where did that bucket of bolts get to, anyhow?”

  “I am here,” the synthezoid announced, and floated into view from behind the SEAL.

  “Where were you in all this?” Rikki demanded. “We could have used your help. You have weapons systems.”

  “None of which would have been of any more use than your sword,” A.l.v.i.s chirped.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it before?” Rikki asked.

  “Prototypes,” A.l.v.i.s said. “My former Master was constantly creating new artificial lifeforms. He believed that all the creatures on this planet flourish in cycles, and the next cycle would be the age of the hybrids.”

  “How’s that again?” Crom said.

  “Are you unfamiliar with the evolutionary timeline? There was the age of the trilobites, the age of fish, the age of amphibians, the age of dinosaurs, of mammals, and so on,” A.l.v.i.s recited. “The most recent age, the human age, has run its course. Eventually humankind will be replaced by superior beings.”

  “Such as your Master,” Sherlock said.

  “Yes,” A.l.v.i.s said.

  Rikki turned to Sherlock. “What do you make of this thing?” he said, and pointed at the scorpion. “Share everything that crosses your mind.”

  Kanto was as interested as the rest in hearing what the weirdo had to say.

  “I surmise,” Sherlock began, “that this wasn’t random. Our every move is being monitored, perhaps remotely.” He gazed skyward. “I remember Blade saying that the Free State of California had control of a satellite left over from before the Big Blast. Perhaps someone else has access to another.”

  “Someone is using a satellite to keep track of us?” Rikki said. “But who? It would have to be someone familiar with prewar tech.”

  “Thanatos was a technological genius,” Sherlock said.

  “But he’s dead.”

  Sherlock said a strange thing. “Rumor has it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The humming was driving Rilletta mad. Above her, a bright light blazed. Under her, the operating table was as cold as ice. Strapped down as she was, she could do nothing as her captor gave her a series of injections. The first made her woozy. The second made her hot. The third killed most of the sensation in her body.

  “For your own good,” the tall creature in the brown hood said. “Otherwise the pain alone would kill you.”

  “Please,” Rilletta pleaded. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “What a ridiculous assertion. Of course I do or I wouldn’t be doing it. You and these other scavengers will be added to my menagerie, as I like to think of it..”

  Rilletta stared into those blazing red pupils and said in heartfelt appeal. “How can you do this to people? What kind of monster are you?”

  The creature straightened to his full imposing height. “For that remark I should remove your brain and feed it to my pets. But it has been a long while since I conversed with anyone. Someone fully human, that is. It might prove entertaining to do so while I operate.”

  “You were human once, people say,” Rilletta made bold to mention.

  “Never!” the creature bristled. “I was born a mutant, woman. With intellectual capabilities far beyond your lowly species.” He reached up and swept his hood back and she saw his face fully for the first time.

  Rilletta gasped.

  “A pretty picture, yes?” He smirked at her. “Before we get to the procedure, introductions are in order. You said earlier that you know who I am.”

  “Than....Thana.....Thana....” Rilletta was so terrified, she couldn’t get it out.

  “Thanatos, yes. Or that is how most know of me. Years ago I deemed it fitting to adopt the name of the Greek personification of death since I intended to inflict it on every human in existence.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “The vagaries of youth. We make erratic decisions when we’re young. Now I’m older, and wiser. Theatrics no longer interest me.” He paused. “Let’s continue, shall we? And kindly stop stuttering or I will gut you and feed your intestines to some of my more organic creations.”

  “Oh God,” Rilletta said.

  “Human religious writings and delusions to the contrary, there is no such entity,” Thanatos said. “I’m the closest thing to a god you will ever encounter.”

  Before Rilletta could stop herself, she said, “You’re not the Almighty. You’re just a mutant.”

  Thanatos stared at her for so long that she grew deathly afraid and tried to change the subject. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

/>   “You mentioned that before. You’ve heard the story then? How the formidable Warriors from the Home did me in?” He laughed a cold laugh. “As you can plainly see, the truth is to the contrary. Constructs do not experience the same death you do.”

  Rilletta had no idea what he was talking about. But ‘construct’ sure fit him. He was only part flesh and blood. His face, for instance—-his cheeks, his chin, part of his brow—-appeared human, but the rest was some sort of plastic-like substance. His left hand was perfectly normal but his right was metal, the fingers and thumb longer and thicker than they should be and gleaming like the steel in a well-honed knife.

  “Don’t lie there like a lump,” Thanatos chided. “Introduce yourself.”

  “Rilletta,” she got out with an effort. “Rilletta Sparks.”

  “How quaint,” Thanatos said. “Shall we get on with it?”

  He clapped his hands and suddenly the table was ringed by other creatures. Artificial things of metal and plastic, one with an oval ‘head’ and another with a square one and a third with no head at all. A fourth, more robotic than the rest, had multiple extremely thin limbs.

  “What....?” Rilletta blurted.

  “My nurses. They are programmed to assist in the transformation.”

  Stark panic tore at Rilletta. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’m going to improve you. Remake you in my image, so to speak. When the operation is over with, you will be a whole new being. Obedient to my every whim.”

  “God help me,” Rilletta whimpered.

  “Stop with the fantasy. Where was this God of yours when the world was dying in flame and upheaval? Where was God when billions of your fellow humans perished?”

  “I don’t have the answers,” Rilletta made bold to reply. “No one does. Maybe things just happen.”

  “A convenient if feeble excuse,” Thanatos said. “Now let’s get to it. The procedure is quite lengthy, I’m afraid. But you’ll thank me when I’m done.” He reached under the table, drew out rubber gloves, and put them on.

  Despondent, Rilletta closed her eyes but snapped them open again when she felt pricking and other slight sensations in her midriff. Thanatos and the other things were bent over her, Thanatos with a scalpel and a pair of surgical scissors.