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| <font size="3">'''Sapphire'''</font> | | <font size="3">'''Sapphire'''</font> |
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| "How old's this thing?" Telemachus says.
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| He leans over the conference table. Slashes of steel gleam in his eyes, exquisite and potent. Screaming Barracuda does the same. She keeps her guitar braced across her body like a shield, caressing its strings. Even Ali seems impressed. Long tongues of flame curve from the pyrokineticist's shoulders, almost as motionless as she is.
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| "When these blades were forged," you say, "there was no human life on Earth."
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| The prince's hand moves towards the weapon. He hesitates, fingers freezing inches away from ancient steel, and waits for you to nod before he touches it.
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| "I still like my chainsaws better."
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| "Fair enough."
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| The doors slide open and the other three join you, fanning out around the table. Talia moves next to Tel. Her hand rests beside his on the sword. Lu Bu's still and stoic, but his eyes seem to shine brighter as he inspects the weapon. Ragnar just grunts. The Niflung's augmented muscles are practically shaking with the urge to unleash violence.
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| "All done?" you say.
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| "Yeah," Talia says. "No one else has been hit yet, but everyone's ready for it. I even tried to call Zhilan Fan. Some secretary guy told me she doesn't have time to speak to 'churlish athletes'."
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| "Hope the Kalaxians get her," Tel says.
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| "You lot know assassins," Barra says, "superheroes, pro fighters, and a whole lot of tossers with guns..."
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| "Right," Talia says.
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| "But if Bob can't stand up to Noir without this thing..." She points her guitar at the sword. "...what'll they do if he's the one who goes after them?"
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| Your gaze locks with Talia's. That possibility didn't escape you either.
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| "I called him," the gunslinger says. "He said he'll do it. He's crazier than we are..."
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| "Maybe. But if he keeps Noir occupied, we can do this."
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| "Then when do we start killing?" Ragnar says.
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| "Soon. Lu Bu..."
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| The robot presses a metal finger against the table. Its surface comes to life, empowered by his touch. A facade of varnished wood melts away -- surrendering to a soft bluish light that spreads until it's consumed everything except a narrow border at its edges. Holographic projections bloom into existence above. Images of planets, people, and buildings swarm in different sizes and levels of clarity.
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| "I've confirmed several locations," he says. "I believe these are the places most important to the cult."
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| "Which do we hit first?" Ali says.
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| "All of them," you say. "You'll carry out a synchronized assault, and take them down before warnings spread and they can clear out."
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| "You'll carry out? Us? And where'll you be?"
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| "With the angels."
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| ***
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| "What do you think?" Assembler Ytrechi said.
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| She waved her arm in a dramatic flourish, whilst toggling between her cybernetic eyes' direct view of the people in front of her and the secondary ocular displays which allowed her to view herself from cameras hovering all around the factory. The latter satisfied her. Decorative gears shimmered in gold and silver on the fancy uniform they'd made her wear. Her smile, which she'd practiced in front of the mirror for almost an hour, beamed with an appropriate blend of friendliness and pride.
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| Caroline Ytrechi would still rather have been in her lab. She'd become an engineer to build robots, not pimp them. But the Grand Fabricator's word was law. Thus she favored the men and women with just the right tooth to lip ratio, and pretended she wasn't intimidated by the varied multitude of medal-festooned military uniforms and dubious stares.
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| At least they weren't all staring at her anymore. At least half had directed their gazes and dubiousness at the formation of robots assembled between the immense machines behind her.
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| "They're shiny," a woman in the green of the Sian Empire said, "I'll give you that."
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| A couple of the others laughed. Engineer Ytrechi forced herself to feign amusement, and broadened her smile instead of flipping the woman off.
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| "Let's hear it then," a short man in purple said. "What'll these tin soldiers do for us?"
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| "Ah, yes..." Caroline coughed. "In the past, several of your militaries have expressed their doubts about deploying autonomous robots on the battlefield."
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| "Damn right we have! This morning I took a crap-"
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| "Um... Congratulations?"
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| "...and my smart toilet told me I needed to change my diet! We argued for twenty minutes! Our commanders put up with enough insubordination from flesh and blood troops. They don't need it from machines too!"
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| "Exactly! That's why the model you see behind you is only quasi-autonomous. They have all the firepower and advanced targeting systems of our regular battle bots, but they'll follow whatever instructions you give them. Just watch..."
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| She plucked a small cylinder from her belt and tapped it twice. A paper-thin screen slid out and locked in place.
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| "Unit 94512-A," she said, "dance."
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| Information flashed across her device in streams of green and white. Some of the generals chuckled. Others stared, confused or bemused. Caroline sighed. She'd specifically told her assistants not to select 'the robot' as their designated dance routine. Yet there the bot was, jerking its limbs in a fashion which made a mockery of its advanced engineering.
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| "Unit 94513-C, run three laps around the-"
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| The display flashed red. Caroline Ytrechi had a second to read the words, 'Chief Assembler Override', and another to wonder what the hell was going on. Then the shooting and screaming started.
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| They didn't last long.
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| ***
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| "...at this facility," Lu Bu says.
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| "Then that's where I'm going," Alison says. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes burn fiercer than the fire framing her face. "I don't care what you think!"
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| "We... We have no objection. In fact, I was about to suggest that myself."
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| "I wasn't talking to you." She sighs, and swats at the flame on her right shoulder. It flinches away like a whimpering dog.
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| "In any event, that..."
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| Lu Bu pauses, arms frozen in mid gesticulation.
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| "What's wrong?" you say.
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| "I just received a message. A recall notice. I'm supposed to return to TALOS space."
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| "Bet it's just spam," Barra says.
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| "I don't believe so."
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| The projections above the table scatter, giving way to a screen marked in one corner with a news station's logo (some kind of walrus, by the look of it). A familiar moustached face glares out at the room.
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| "Francois Dupont," you say. "This can't be good."
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| "Damn," Talia says. She points at the word 'LIVE' which hovers in the opposite corner to the corporate emblem. "For a second there, I thought they were going to say the Kalaxians had killed him."
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| "We're not that lucky."
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| "The Alliance of Lambda Omicron systems," Dupont says, "claim that the massacre was the result of sabotage. Rest assured, the finest law enforcement agents at the UHW's disposal will investigate, and no guilty party will escape from justice..."
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| The secretary-general's eyes seem to bore into yours. You feel an intense desire to punch him in the face, but it evaporates when the second image appears alongside him -- footage of battle bots' weapons blazing away inside a factory. Their gunfire doesn't leave corpses; it scatters chunks.
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| "...But until these investigations are completed, TALOS must withdraw all their battle-capable robots to their own territory, to avoid the risk of further atrocities."
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| Lu Bu deactivates the feed before a grinning newsman can offer his inane commentary on that pronouncement.
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| "Kalaxians?" Ragnar says.
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| "Undoubtedly," the robot says.
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| "What're you going to do?" Telemachus says.
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| "Disobey his instructions, of course."
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| ***
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| "Well done, Multheru," Emera Tresc said.
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| "Kalaxia granted us the victory." The Quiskerian's finger-like tentacles stroked his mouth.
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| This time all the holographic heads at the table wore looks of grim satisfaction. Even Noir's eyes seemed to burn soft with pleasure instead of blazing in eons-old wrath.
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| "Yes," he said, and Emera wondered if he'd read her thought. But then his head turned, gazing at something beyond the projection's scope. "Bob has already responded. A challenge, scattered across the void. One he must have known would come to my attention. He invokes the name Erebus."
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| "He knows!" Emera said.
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| "Good. Then he understands whose hands will destroy him."
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| Noir's face disappeared, leaving blackness in its wake.
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| "If Bob's aware of our brother's identity," Bonderbrand said, "he may know other things."
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| "Yes," Multheru said. "Each of us should prepare for-"
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| The Quiskerian hissed. His head snapped round, tentacles swinging and grasping.
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| "Intruders," he said.
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| Bonderbrand swore.
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| "Here too," the professor said. "A breach."
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| "Wyrm-mother watch over us," Emera said. "Kalaxia!"
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| "Kalaxia!" the others chorused.
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| Darkness usurped their places one by one, and Emera was left alone at the table. She turned to the woman in the doorway.
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| "The vault," the grandmistress said. "I have to-"
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| "Take Kalaxia's treasures and keep them safe," the woman said. She turned away and stepped into the corridor. "Our enemies will burn."
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| ***
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| It's wet.
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| "I know," Ali, said.
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| We'll take care of that.
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| "Thanks."
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| Heat grew in the middle of Alison Haelia's body, turning her abdomen into a fireplace which spread flowing warmth throughout her body.
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| "Your bike's got heating?" Barra put her face near Ali's ear, yelling the words over the splashing rain and churning wheels. Her arms tightened around the pyrokineticist's waist.
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| "No! But I do..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't roast her."
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| Of course we won't! We want to hear her play!
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| Ali grinned. Steam billowed from her skin and swept behind the speeding motorcycle -- phantom flames or a ghostly, tattered battle standard flapping away across the countryside. This was one Screaming Barracuda gig she wouldn't miss for worlds.
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| "No going nuts when we find Alexa."
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| But we don't like those things inside her.
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| "I don't care. If you hurt her..."
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| Fine! But you'd better let us burn other stuff.
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| "Yeah..." she said.
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| A fence appeared on the horizon, high iron railings like a rack of black spears ready to arm a medieval horde. Some distance beyond them, nestled amongst picturesque oaks and firs, was a broad grey building. The rain streamed from it in dozens of miniature waterfalls, making its windows weep.
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| "...there'll be plenty to burn."
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| ***
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| "Are the children safe?"
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| Emera's mind moved instead of her lips, casting the question through the vault's thick walls.
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| "Yes, grandmistress." Varner's dark, round face appeared in her consciousness alongside his voice. "We've evacuated the living quarters."
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| "You should go with them."
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| "Is that a command, Emera?"
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| "No, but-"
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| "Then I'll stand with the others."
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| Emera Tresc's hand hovered above the panel. Her gaze roamed across the armored display cases -- a geometric forest of glass and steel, precise and stalwart atop every cyan tile of the checkerboard floor except the one at its very center, which contained the terminal. Some of these treasures were prized for their history and antiquity: gold ornaments from ancient Mycenae; a volute krater decorated with red-figure hoplites who knelt before a drake; a Quiskerian idol; a fine silver swordstick, adorned with sapphires and light blue tourmalines. Others held power that pulsed through the glass and made her flesh tingle. Especially that pile of jagged bone fragments, resting on azure silk...
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| Her duty was clear. The words uttered by her predecessor echoed in her brain. Preserve the artifacts, escape, and assess the situation when she was safe. Those were the protocols.
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| "Kalaxia," Varner said.
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| "Kalaxia," a dozen other voices chorused.
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| "Kalaxia," Emera said. "May the wyrm-mother watch over us all."
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| She pressed her palm down, and cried out.
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| Sound... An inconceivable, devastating avalanche. A sonic bludgeon of raw noise... No. Not noise. Music. Music powerful enough to bring down the heavens, split the planet in half, and-
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| The vault door clunked into place. Silence punched her brain, and it was a second before the shock settled into relief. That song, that terrible song, was gone. The room's physical and psionic shielding had blocked it out.
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| "Her..." Emera said.
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| She leaned against the terminal, grasping it with whitening hands. There was nothing she could do. The sequence was already initiated. And though there was no hint of movement in this protected chamber, the grandmistress knew she was already hurtling through the underground passage at immense speed -- towards the hidden launch hatch.
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| The treasures would survive. She would survive.
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| Emera Tresc could only pray to Kalaxia that her brothers and sisters would survive too.
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| ***
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| "So you noose you're mega,
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| You noose you're some hot drek,
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| You baino into Drekchester looking for some creds."
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| Yay!
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| "Really? You like the Drekchester theme song? She only chose it because that thing's practically a weapon already!"
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| So are we!
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| "We sure are..."
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| "Kalaxia!"
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| The voices from the end of the corridor were louder and clearer than the music, admitted by the aural filters which shielded her from the ultra-amplified guitar and voice. So were the bursts of gunfire. Bullets sprayed in aimless arcs, while the two women in azure and cyan jumpsuits tottered and staggered like slapstick mercenaries.
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| A torrent of flame engulfed them, silencing their shrieks in the same instant they began. And Ali felt confident the pair preferred immolation to hearing Screaming Barracuda play.
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| "You noose that we'll all phobe you,
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| You noose that we'll back down,
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| Well, chummer, you'll get rumpled right into the ground!"
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| It's catchy!
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| "So's Space Pox. I don't like that either."
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| She continued down the passage, between walls painted in sumptuous and soothing shades of blue, glancing into each doorway she passed.
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| Left!
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| "I know!"
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| Ali ducked back behind the wall. A burst of luminous plasma fizzed through the entrance and disappeared into the room opposite. Its heat tingled on her cheek.
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| "I saw him before you did!"
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| Liar!
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| "You're mega back where you bio,
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| They noose you're some hot drek,
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| But on our streets you're just a prosser who's going to get wrecked!"
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| "Just burn him!"
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| Only if you admit-
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| "Fire! Burn! Now!"
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| Okay! Okay! By the way, this wall we're hiding behind doesn't look very...
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| "Drekchester! Drekchester! We'll rumple you for fun!
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| Drekchester! Drekchester! Then we'll wreck your mum!"
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| "Yeah..."
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| Ali dropped low, amid a blast that drowned the music and rained little pieces of debris down on her. The pyrokineticist glanced up at the hole in the wall. She hated it when they were right.
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| "Barra! Stay back!"
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| But the Piscarian was still a dozen or so yards behind, gyrating as she played.
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| "She's dancing. She's actually dancing."
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| "We'll twock out all your organs, and kauf them in the slums,
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| Kauf them to some street-scavs who need to fill their tums!
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| Then we'll get some chems and snuff them up the schnoz,
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| And leggie how we taught this scav just what mega was!"
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| We should dance too!
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| "Kill that guy first!"
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| Another shot shook the wall, blasting a second gaping hole at chest height. It really didn't seem like a good time to pop up from cover. So Ali clenched and unclenched her left fist.
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| The jet of fluid arced above, through the room's impromptu windows. Her flames chased it -- whooshing and roaring. She swept the stream back and forth, letting the end of parabola play across the unseen interior. A scream rewarded her. So did the sound of flesh charring to a blackened crisp, and the succulent scent of roasting meat.
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| "Hark! I hear the foe advancing,
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| Barbed steeds are proudly prancing,
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| Helmets, in the sunbeam glancing,
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| Glitter through the trees.
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| Men of Harlech! Lie ye dreaming?
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| See you not their falchions gleaming,
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| While their pennons, gaily streaming,
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| Flutter to the breeze?"
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| Hurray! A new song!
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| "It's the same tune as the one from the ship... And what's that stupid accent?"
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| Welsh.
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| "How could you possibly know-"
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| Ali sighed. She'd argue about that later. The pyrokineticist got up, glanced at the burning wreckage, and rounded the corner.
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| "From the rocks rebounding,
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| Let the war-cry sounding,
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| Summon all at Cambria's call,
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| The haughty foe-"
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| "Barra?"
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| She began to turn, to find out why the Piscarian rocker had stopped playing, but movement drew her eye. Ali pivoted and aimed a flaming hand at the woman striding down the corridor. The breath caught in her throat. At the edge of her vision, she'd just caught the blue jumpsuit and a splash of long red hair. Now... She let out a laugh.
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| "Alexa!"
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| Something's wrong!
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| "Alexa?"
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| Something's wrong! Something's wrong! Something's wrong! Those things inside her, they're-
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| "We've... We've come to..."
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| ...different!
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| "Ali..." Alexa halted a dozen paces away, and her eyes seemed to lose their focus. "Yes. The things inside her... Monsters... They murdered our brothers and sisters!"
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| "Alexa, what-"
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| "I like my new name better too..."
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| Her gaze hardened and sharpened once more, locking onto Alison. Azure flames blazed around her hands.
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| "Emera calls me Sapphire."
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| ***
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| Screaming Barracuda sprawled on her back and groaned. Everything was blurry, apart from the pain throbbing in her jaw. It wasn't the first time she'd been punched whilst playing. Probably not even the seventh. Numerous assailants floated around her swimming brain, shouting abuse and insulting her music. Wankers... | | Screaming Barracuda sprawled on her back and groaned. Everything was blurry, apart from the pain throbbing in her jaw. It wasn't the first time she'd been punched whilst playing. Probably not even the seventh. Numerous assailants floated around her swimming brain, shouting abuse and insulting her music. Wankers... |
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