NOMAD CORE

By Andrew Seiple

Cover by Amelia Parris

Edited by Beth Lyons

Text copyright © Andrew Seiple 2020

All Rights Reserved

With thanks and love to my wife, for her support and patience

Table of Contents

ONE             5

TWO             8

THREE             14

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 1             19

FOUR             24

FIVE             30

SIX             35

INTERLUDE: SURVIVOR 3             41

SEVEN             47

EIGHT             54

NINE             58

INTERLUDE: HUNTRESS 3             65

TEN             71

ELEVEN             75

TWELVE             83

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 2             89

THIRTEEN             95

FOURTEEN             98

FIFTEEN             104

INTERLUDE: SURVIVOR 4             110

SIXTEEN             115

SEVENTEEN             120

EIGHTEEN             126

INTERLUDE: HUNTRESS 4             134

NINETEEN             140

TWENTY             147

TWENTY-ONE             151

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 3             156

TWENTY-TWO             161

TWENTY-THREE             165

TWENTY-FOUR             170

TWENTY-FIVE             174

TWENTY-SIX             179

TWENTY-SEVEN             185

AUTHOR’S NOTE             190

ONE

Once I’d thought that hell was nothing.

I’d been naive.

Hell was pain. Dark, flashing pain as you felt your life ebbing away, senses gone. Not even a mouth to scream.

But it was a torment I welcomed, that I clung to like a drowning sailor grasping a line. Not truly a hell but a purgatory. Because I knew that the pain meant two things.

The first: I was still alive, for whatever sense of the word applied.

The second: it would end, one way or the other.

And so I clung on, rode it out, and consoled myself that if this was hell, it was a hell of my own making.

That made it easier, somehow. I was still the captain of my fate, even if my fate hurt.

And then...

Then it eased.

I came to in a gray, featureless space, with black letters looming above me, filling me.

INITIALIZING...

Yes, I thought, Yessss....

A feeling of motion... that jerked to a stop. I howled as a feeling like a thousand fishhooks dug into my non-existent body.

CORRUPTION DETECTED! FORMAT AND REPAIR? Y/N?

No! I thought.

BOOTING UP DAMAGED SECTORS MAY RESULT IN INSTABILITY AND FURTHER CORRUPTION. ARE YOU SURE YOU WISH TO PROCEED? Y/N?

Well, nobody had ever accused me of being stable in the first place. Yes... I thought, feeling the pain throb and burn.

A tearing sensation. Gray turned to white... and faded to silvery light. I took comfort in it, as it signified that I had sight once more.

“...in there?” someone asked. A deep, worn voice. An old man’s voice.

An ally’s voice. I had scant few of those, and as the last of the pain left me, a name came to replace it.

Cade.

“Just Cade,” I said, as I took control of my body once more and turned what sensors I had to look upon the wizened, brown face of my partner in this particular crime. “How long?” My voice was a bit raspy, the speakers growling and stuttering. I didn’t mind. That matched how I felt, more or less.

“Two days, more or less,” Cade said as he started picking up tools from a grungy, beat-up metal chair and piling them back into a duct-taped toolbox. “You’re a complicated piece of work, Wynne.”

“Story of my life,” I slurred. “Give me a second. Feels like I went five rounds with a truck.”

He snorted. “Considerin’ I used a truck fuel cell to jump-start you, that’s not too far off.”

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy.” Then comprehension gave the words meaning. “You jump-started me? Clamped wires on and gave me volts?”

“It worked!” He raised his hands, defensively. “You’re here, ain’t you?”

And I was. What was left of me.

Once I’d been a man. Part of me had, anyway.

The integral part of me still was. But a capricious silicon goddess had taken a fictional hero from a book, poured in parts to fill in the blanks of my mind, and dumped the resulting mixture into a silvery sphere held between pylons. A nanotech hive; an engine made to reshape the world around it.

The people of what was left of this blasted and glowing world called us Cores. Or gods. Or demons.

The truth, as always, lay somewhere in between. Most likely between the sheets with a cigarette, enjoying the afterglow.

Cade’s teeth flashed white in the silver light, and I took a second to peer around at the surroundings. It wasn’t much to look at. Mud floor, curving concrete walls, and a few grimy metal bars to the north and south. Broken light sockets studded the concrete ceiling, which was cracked and choked with roots. Water traced its lonely, dripping course somewhere down the tunnel.

“Did you put me in a storm drain?” I asked.

“Best we could do,” Cade said, shrugging. “Least it ain’t an old sewer.”

“Thinking about that, a sewer might have been better. I got a hell of a lot of resources out of bat guano back in the old lair.” My old bunker had a lot of hidden advantages. Not that they’d helped me in the end. Not against the ire I drew by dint of my mere existence. “But that’s an ungracious comment,” I amended. “Thank you for helping me escape. Are your people all right?”

He nodded. “Well enough. The Jaspa fled and didn’t stop runnin’ till they were clear of the woods. We moved in, got my folks building shelter now. It’s warm enough we don’t need fires... but that’ll change once the rations run out. Gonna have to cook eventually. Got them gathering berries and roots, but we’ll need to send the hunters out sooner or later.”

“How many, all told?” I asked, curious. Some part of me had led men, once. Given a big enough army, I could do that again.

“Forty-five. We lost a few during the move. The old. The sick.” Cade closed his eyes.

No. Not an army. Survivors, refugees... people. They could fight if they had to, but they were a problem to be solved, not a force to be leveraged.

My problem now, too. One of many. “The Jaspa have retreated. They’ll bear word that this forest has shine-tainted animals.”

A sharp inhale of breath, and Cade’s spectacles glittered as he studied me, the scratches and cracks in the lenses catching the light. “That so?”

“They think it’s so. The truth of the matter is that I might have spread around a few cans worth of glowy spray paint.”

Shine was a glowy death, the remnants of wild nanotech strains that had been replicating and degrading for centuries. It usually meant a slow death to any living things that came in contact with it.

And some non-living things, too. If I got infected with the stuff, I’d be reduced to a helpless shell while alien code rode my body like a haunting ghost. As corrupted and broken as I was, I didn’t see many ways exposure to random viruses could help my situation.

“That won’t keep them away forever,” Cade said, musing. “I know the Jaspa. They ain’t smart, but they got stubborn, and stubborn is worse.”

“You’re not wrong. But they’re not the worst threat. Tyr found out about me. I’m hoping he thinks I’m dead, too.” My false death had been a spur-of-the-moment plan that had every chance of success. But given how my luck had been either bad or non-existent for pretty much every step of my conscious life, I didn’t expect to fool my foes forever. “Sooner or later he’ll find out I’m alive. Then we’ll have to figure out where we stand. He wanted me in his grand alliance.”

Cade was silent for a bit. “Tyr’s Heronmen shoot at us when we get too near the starport.”

“Yeah. Not sure you’d be part of any deal he’d want to make. Not that it matters. We didn’t exactly get along.”

I watched Cade’s shoulders sag under his greatcoat. Relief, most likely.

I hated to banish that feeling, but he needed the full picture. “I’ve got a feeling that the die is cast, regardless. Tyr has got a vicious subordinate with some pretty big ambitions. I’d be in conflict with their faction regardless. He tried to use me as a pawn and failed, but if I popped back up on the board he’d find a way to do me malice. That well is poisoned regardless of my feelings on the matter.”

I watched Cade mull it over. I was a big advantage for his people, true, but I came with baggage.

Still, at this point, he was committed. It wasn’t like he could put me back where he found me. And from what I’d deduced, going back to their old location wasn’t an option either.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“I’m a little surprised you’re asking me that,” I said, mainly to buy myself time. I hadn’t had a lot of ability to think, back in that pain-filled void. “You’re the leader of your people, and I owe you a favor for the last-minute save. I’d half expected you to have a bullet-point list, a timetable, and some pretty big demands.”

“I’m a leader ’cause I listen to my people. And I’d like to think you’re one of us, after all we been through.”

That could be so. Or he might be aware that he’d get more out of me by letting me think I had some measure of control.

The fact was, I was dependent on him and his people, at least for a little while. He knew I knew that, and this might be his way of trying to ease the irritation. Pride was my sin, and few things rankle a proud person like an unpaid debt that grows the longer you need someone to help you.

But then, it was possible that I was overthinking things. More to the point, we both had bigger fish to fry than hurt feeling.

I’d been dealing too long with bastards. Time to put that aside, and at least pretend to be a decent person. “All right,” I said, in the spirit of compromise and conspiracy against forces majeure and malicious. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to screw over everyone who isn’t us...”

TWO

Controller Designation: Wynne

Make/Model: Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L

Resonance Rate: 1/24:00

Bandwidth: 10(10) Feedstock: 20

Open Circuits: 0

Specialized Circuits: 26

Floors: 1

Minions: 0

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 2, Fabrication 2

Medical: Cybernetics, Pharmaceuticals, Recovery

Power: Broadcast 1, Efficiency 1, Redundancy

Research (1): Algorithms 1, Analysis 1, Databases 1

Security (1): Defensive 1, Drones 2, Offensive 2

Storage: Energy 1, Material 1, Organic

Improvements:

Manhunter: Your security measures and minions are optimized for use against humans.

Omnibiologist: Due to your interaction with non-human organisms both benign and hostile, you are specialized in researching aliens, mutants, and artificial life forms.

Sturdy Construction: Your construction techniques utilize multiple layers and reinforced structural components. All items and features constructed are moderately tougher.

Schemas

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Broadcast Node

Light Construction Drone

Core Cleansing Catalyst

Drop Ceiling

Feedstock Storage Bin Mk I

Frangible armor Mk I

Humanocentric Translation Program

Lightweight Frangible Stone Reinforcement

Metal Detector Handheld Unit

Mildly Hazardous Tilting Floor

Moderately Unsafe Spikes

Nanobuilder Swarm

Simple Steel Door

Simple Pit Trap

Tension Bow Turret Mk II

WARNING: Contamination detected! Core is 19% compromised.

I closed my status screen, fought the overwhelming urge to shake a head I didn’t have.

In the scant week or so I’d been active, I’d slowly grown from nothing to mostly nothing, with a few useful robotic minions.

All those were gone now, along with the small improvements I’d made to myself between fending off waves of raiders.

Cores were made to settle into a building or area and shape it to their desires, developing and specializing their designated area to a purpose. In a way, our complexes were the only bodies we truly had. I’d essentially decapitated myself with my transference, and lost a moderately powerful body to do so.

Mind you, that old body had some serious flaws to it.

The end result was that I’d have to start over. But not all over. I had developed my circuits to support some useful blueprints, or schemas, as they were called. Still, I’d have to start again from a position of weakness.

It was my hope that this would throw my enemies, my real enemies, off.

The raiders had been a sideshow albeit a deadly one. Sooner or later Tyr and the thing hiding behind Leony’s mask would find me. And then there would be a reckoning.

Unless I prepared my assault first and struck without mercy.

To that end, there was no point in the power gained with time. Cores grew in power over time as their internal processes calibrated and adjusted to their surroundings. Both of my foes had years ahead of me; in a raw numbers game the cruel arithmetic stood arrayed against me.

So, I had to find a different angle of attack, a different advantage.

And unlike the last time, I’d have to do it alone.

Alone without my most valuable helper. I’d be without Argus.

I’d started my life distrustful and leery of the little program. He wasn’t even a full artificial intelligence, just a program with a humanized interface. But by the end of our troubles, I’d grown fond of the little guy.

And whoever was wearing Leony’s face had killed him, with all the care and forethought of an exterminator plying his trade on vermin.

I owed my nameless nemesis a few deaths in return for that casual malice.

That was down the road, though. For now... for now, I had forty-six people to help.

Cade and I had talked until the early morning light, talked and planned and chewed over the bitter, hard facts.

His people, the Arcadians, needed food and shelter, but above all they needed to remain hidden. They were walking a sword’s edge here, in the borderlands between the old city to the east and the Jaspa horde to the west. The north was home to the glowlands, by all accounts a tangled mess of shine, mutants, and shining mutants. The south was claimed by stronger groups... though none were as strong as the Jaspa, the south had neither room nor love for refugees, nor the food to spare.

This was the last point of retreat. Here they’d stand, and if I failed them, then here they’d die.

Whether or not I’d die with them was open to debate. But regardless of my own milk of human kindness or lack thereof, I’d be a fool to squander my first line of defense cheaply.

The conclusion we’d reached, Cade and I, was that he’d see to the food, and I’d see to the shelter. Things underground were harder to find than those that weren’t, so the best thing I could do was bend my energies to making the Arcadians a tunnel system where they could survive and thrive.

Which, coincidentally, would be my key to gaining power and thriving. While I couldn’t hope to beat my most deadly enemies with raw numbers, I had a whole horde of lesser enemies who would cease to be a problem once I had a little more power.

To that end... it was time to do something I’d been putting off ever since Cade had woken me.

I had an improvement to choose.

Improvements are benefits that apply to everything I build, more or less. My previous improvements had been lifesavers during my struggles, giving me the edge against the raiders.

Well, except for that omnibiologist one. That one I’d chosen for more long-term goals, before the flying feces had hit the rotary air mover.

Now I did have more of a long-term to work with. I also had a free improvement that I hadn’t chosen, because it would have incapacitated me for a time.

Now I had time. And no more excuses.

I reviewed my options once more. This was a construction improvement, my second as a matter of fact.

Flame-Resistant: Your structures are reinforced against fire and heat.

Slick: A macroteflon layer coats all manufactured surfaces unless you instruct otherwise at the time of construction.

Modular: All devices and fixtures can be reconfigured on the fly for ease of assembly and repurposing.

Each had their benefits.

My foes had attempted to use fire against me before, and I’d returned the favor. It would also provide some benefit to the people I’d be housing. They’d be less likely to set themselves on fire... no, no. I had to trust they had at least some basic levels of competency, there. And fire wasn’t a serious threat to an intelligent core. Smoke was more of an issue, and ventilation was the key to handling that, not fireproofing. Unless Tyr turned up at my door with thermal weapons, it wouldn’t help. And if he did that, we’d be out of luck anyway.

That left slick and modular as possible choices.

Slick had obvious applications against humans and other foes. It would have made my defense of the last bunker all that much easier. It also had peacetime uses, aiding in shifting large masses around and providing a useful means of fast transport that didn’t burn energy. It would have been the obvious short-term choice if I’d been in my old situation.

But I wasn’t in my old situation.

I had a timeframe that wasn’t measured in hours or days anymore.

And to that end my nonexistent eyes kept straying back to the modular improvement.

The fact of the matter was that I didn’t know what these people would need in the long-term. I didn’t know when one of our enemies would find us. Hell, I didn’t know if Cade could be trusted, once he’d gotten everything he wanted from me. It seemed unlikely that he’d betray me, and the world I’d woken to was a harsh one; he might possibly never get everything he wanted from me.

But well I knew the gratitude of men and how meager it truly was. I was essentially apart from humanity now, immortal and strange. Even if I got along with Cade and his people now, what would the next generation bring?

Modular would give me flexibility. It would ensure that I could reconfigure things to deal with unexpected developments.

I bid farewell to the other options, prepared for a long nap, and made my choice.

Modular improvement selected! Upgrading existing structures...

And nothing happened.

I could not say why this was so. The previous few times I’d selected my improvements, I had been rendered insensate, knocked for a loop until they finished upgrading. This wasn’t normal according to Argus but a part of my corruption.

Perhaps that was it? My corruption had finally fallen to the point where it didn’t interfere with the process? There was an irony there, that when time had been most precious to me, gaining strength lost me irreplaceable hours. But now that it wasn’t as much of a factor, I could upgrade freely.

That was possible, but a simpler explanation occurred to me, as I studied my muddy slice of storm drain.

I just didn’t have that much to upgrade, now.

Occam’s razor made its merciless cut, and I would have shrugged if I had shoulders. This was something I could test, given time. Later tonight my algorithms would work their relational math and build a new circuit within my artificial frame. I could slot that into organic storage and unlock another improvement possibility. That question would be answered, and I’d either stay awake or get a nap in relatively safe surroundings.

In the meantime, I turned my attention to those surroundings. Mud. Old stone. Metal. Water.

I could work with all of these. And with an effort of will, I began my labor.

Construction complete!

Minion: Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I has been constructed and added to your minion pool.

A cloud of glowing dust puffed from out of my silvery center. My first and easiest minions to make... but also expensive. They cost a full fifteen feedstock; hopefully I could recoup that from the raw materials in the soil around me.

I knew from experience that I had the option to ‘jump into’ the swarm, and control them personally. But I found I had little interest  in chewing on mud. If I screwed up, I’d be eating dirt all too soon; no need to taste the stuff early.

The swarm did its work, breaking down the mud at the molecular level and siphoning the useful parts back to me in the form of feedstock. The rest became dust, and I shuffled it off to one side. It took a fair bit of mud to make a single unit of feedstock.

After a few hours, I had enough for a simple container. I changed the swarm’s orders and set them to building a Feedstock Storage Bin Mk. I. I could tell I’d need it; there was a lot of mud.

Echoes of footsteps squishing in the stuff. The creak of a metal door opening in the rusty grate. I glanced up to find two figures approaching, one bearing a lantern.

“Something you need?” I asked, and it came out a bit brusquely.

“Yes, actually,” said the Ploughman. “And if we’re very lucky, you can help us get it, and we might survive the winter.”

Hiram had my attention from the start. But now he had my interest. Still, there was a chain of command that was still being ratcheted into the gears here, and I wanted to make sure he was in the right spot. “I’m going to assume this has something to do with food.”

It was a fairly safe assumption. The Ploughmen were the remnants of an agrarian religious group who insisted on using old ways to farm and shunned a lot of technology. They’d been in a good spot to survive and prosper after the apocalypse... well, they would have been, if a whole bunch of less-enlightened assholes hadn’t seen that and turned them into conquered serfs.

There was a lesson in humanity, here. 

This one was called Hiram, and he nodded to me. “It is. Food from crops, actually.”

“You sure you’re where you need to be? I’m handling shelter. Cade’s dealing with food.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have flying machine bats,” Hiram pointed out. “Or whatever those things you used to speak to me are.”

I didn’t have them either, not after the last move. But I held my tongue. I didn’t want to admit weakness, and if it came down to it, I could make more. Not too many more, my bandwidth had taken a beating from the move.

“Tell me what you’ve got, first.” I snuck a glance at the other figure. “You?”

She’d been the reason I’d hooked up with the Arcadians in the first place. She was the huntress who ended up in my chamber, seeking refuge from two murderous raiders. I’d helped her, and then events had unfolded rapidly.

The short-haired girl smiled and babbled strange words at me.

And as it became clear that I didn’t speak her language, she slowly stopped talking.

“No, keep on,” I told her. “Hiram, tell her to keep talking. Translate as she goes. I’ve got a program to help me learn this stuff, now.”

Given time, the program caught up. It had already analyzed the Jaspa tongue, and this was very similar. All it cost was minutes of my attention, and since the nanoswarm was slowly chewing mud, I felt no shame in multi-tasking.

Her name was Donna, and she was grateful for the rescue. She paused to cough every now and then, but the smoke which had done a number on me hadn’t been as bad for her, by the sound of it. That was something.

After a few more minutes of thanks, I cut her off. “You’re welcome, kid. Hiram, tell me what you’ve got and how I can help.”

“Er, ah...” he’d been caught off guard. “Abandoned farms.”

“When did the world end again?” I asked.

“Not from back then,” Hiram shook his head. “The Jaspa were trying to settle this area. There are a few farmsteads out this way. When they brought me to kill you, we passed a few on the way here. The Warlord took some supplies from the bigger ones. When she found there was shine in the woods, she sent runners back to tell them to flee.”

“You think there’s something left there we can use? Some food we can scavenge?”

“No. They’ll have taken everything that wasn’t nailed down... or planted.” Hiram’s teeth gleamed in the lanternlight.

“Planted... that’s right,” I said, seeing where his train of thought was going. “This is about the end of summer, isn’t it?”

“A few months off harvest,” Hiram nodded. “If they’re using the crops that make sense for this land. If they had enough time to get settled, if they did it right, then they’ll have fields two thirds done. And they’ll have left them behind intact, in the hopes that they’ll be allowed to come back in time to harvest.”

“If they did it right,” I said. “Were these people your people?”

“No,” Hiram confessed. “That’s why we can’t count on it. That’s why I want you to use your birds to help me look them over.”

“I’m not sure what the birds can do for you that the Arcadians can’t.”

“Oh, they can survey the fields, too. But it has to be done by daylight. And the farms are either on the edge of the forest or just beyond it.”

“Too much risk. But the drones look like birds from a distance...” I would have nodded if I had a head.

I was glad I’d recruited Hiram, not that he’d had a lot of choice in the matter. If he’d gone back to his enslavers they probably would have killed him for his failure or taken it out on his family. Or both. The Jaspa were brutal, in an efficient and relatively heartless way. “You’ve sold me. But I’ll want something in return.”

His eyes were wary in the dim light. “What do you want?”

“You gave the Jaspa TNT. Can you give it to the Arcadians?”

“I know how to make it. But it takes many chemicals and a lot of dangerous work. I would need a chemistry bench, a well-ventilated shelter to work in, and some things I do not have.”

“Tell me what you need. I can reconfigure matter on the molecular level. It shouldn’t be a problem.” I said that, but I still needed raw materials to work with.

“There are several little things, but three potential locked doors. We’ll need pine oil for Toluene. I have seen pines in the forest; it should not be hard to find or make. Sulfuric acid is the second thing, and I do not know if there is sulfur around here. The third thing is nitric acid. I’d need a nitrate. Potassium or sodium nitrate. Easy enough to get potassium nitrate from the feces and piss of our camp, but it will take time.” He grimaced. “Also some electricity, for the reactions I want. And a stove.”

“Potassium nitrate’s already on my to-do list.” Gunpowder needed to be a thing at some point here. “It sounds like sulfur’s the roadblock.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “Can you give me that?”

“The answer’s a resounding maybe. But you’ve got your bargain. You tell me what to look for and I’ll put birds in the air. We already liberated you from the Jaspa, and that’s paid dividends. I’m amenable to the idea of stealing dinner from their plates...”

THREE

The drone wobbled a bit as the nanoswarm finished its work. Not too many clean places down here yet, so I’d put it on the newly made feedstock storage bin while I built the frame.

It wasn’t much to look at. A couple of propellers, some wings, an engine, and a decent camera and microphone. A small voice synthesizer rounded out the package.

The struggle for my life had taken a sharp turn for the better when I’d first built one of these. It was less of a game changer and more of a table flipper.

That said... my not-so-nice neighbors to the east had more and better. I’d have to limit this drone’s use to the lowest of altitudes until I could figure out some good electronic countermeasures. The situation called for more of a grasshopper than an Icarus.

A what now? I concentrated, wracking through my incomplete memories, chasing the name. Something about melting wings...

A spasm of electronic pain pounded me, as error notifications swam in front of my eyes. A sea of little black fishes posing as words nibbled at my brain.

This was the price of corruption.

I had been damaged early on, before my defenses were in place. The structures that were effectively my brain were repairing themselves, but progress had been slow before my relocation, and I had no clue how my new digs would affect my healing process.

I did know that I had to be cautious. Excessive stress would cause the equivalent of seizures, or possibly make things worse. Essentially, my wounds were still freshly-stitched. Though it was against my nature, I had to take it easy.

Not too easy, mind you.

Aerial Surveillance Drone I has been constructed and added to your minion pool.

Bandwidth Occupied: 1

I hopped into the drone, spun up the propellers, and sent it out of the storm drain. While jumping into the nanoswarm to help it chew mud would have been a chore, this was a pure joy. The stationary take joy in mobility, when given the opportunity, and I was no different.

Someone had put a guard at the entrance, and I almost clocked the poor bastard in the face. He scrambled back and dropped his spear, landing on his ass and staring up at me in awe. Shouts rang from around the gully I’d emerged into, and I saw dirty, ragged people lining up on the sides to stare down at the drone with amazement. I did a slow loop around, checking them out, then rose up out of the gulley to the woods above. My flash mob scrambled back, chattering to each other and pointing.

Thanks to my translator program, I got the gist of it. Most of it was pretty much some variation of holy shit, it can fly! With about a ten percent side order of parents telling their kids to get away from the crazy thing, and five percent telling their buddy to go get Cade.

“Don’t bother,” I said, zipping over to one of my five percenters. “I’ll go to him.”

They got quiet when I told them that in their own language, and I left before things got weirder.

Didn’t stop them from following me, of course.

We moved through the trees as I hunted for Cade. Tents studded the sides of the gully, built on the more level parts of the slope, and I approved. The Arcadians had built with an eye to stealth, setting up so that you’d need to be right up on the crevice in order to see them. A higher perspective might help with that, but the trees were thick here... and mostly pines, which was good news. Winter would have stripped their leaf coverage, but evergreens ensured that they would have some concealment from flyers and spyers who made it up the neighboring hills.

It was good for now, but there were some serious flaws in the setup.

“This is going to work until the point it doesn’t,” I said, landing next to Cade. The old man was sitting in a camp chair at a thin point in the trees, staring at the mountain through a pair of cracked binoculars. “Winter is coming.”

“I know,” he said. “By then you’ll have either done your job, or it won’t matter.”

“Warmth is the problem,” I said, easing the propellers to a stop as I rocked the tiny struts back and forth, making sure I wasn’t caught on the underbrush. “And airflow. You’ll need fires to survive the winter, but smoke is going to stand out, given the air currents off the mountain. It’ll be visible for miles.”

“Unless you can do something about that. Like build a bunker, like we talked about.”

“It is looking like the best solution. But there’s a fair number of steps along that particular road. Speaking of that, I’ll be opening some holes in the ground about two hundred meters northwest. Do me a favor and have your people do their business there from now on.”

“Do their business?” Cade lowered his binoculars and squinted at me from behind his cracked spectacles.

“Do number one, two, hell even three if you can scrape up the alcohol.” Cade’s honest puzzlement reminded me that the expressions I’d been programmed with had suffered a few centuries of disuse and mutation. “They’re toilets. Latrines, more like, though I can easily print up some seats if you like.”

“Ah! Now you’re talkin’,” Cade smiled. “We’ve been diggin’ cat holes, but it’s work. Will there be, ah, any noticeable smells?”

“Some, but I can fix that easily enough later. The important thing is getting all that chemical waste down to me so I can process it into useful stuff. Like potassium nitrate, for example.”

Cade frowned. “Thought you cores could pretty much make anything from anything else?”

“We can, but, it’s easier if it’s halfway there already.” I could rearrange matter on the molecular level. But the process got way more efficient if I had the right kind of molecules to work with.

“All right. Well this’ll save us work so I don’t see people griping.” Cade settled back in his chair and grimaced. “Gettin’ old to be sleeping on the ground. My back’s got knots that normally go on shoes. Don’t suppose you got anything for that?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “I didn’t have much need for medical facilities when I was fighting the Jaspa. But now that you’re here, that’ll have to change. Think you can hold out a few weeks?”

“My head says yes, but my spine says no,” he sighed. “Living quarters come first though. My body’s kept going seventy years, what’s a month more?”

“A lifetime, if we’re unlucky.” I thought about apologizing for my morbid turn of phrase, but something in me didn’t like the notion. I wasn’t sure why... perhaps another part of the grafted persona I’d been ’gifted.’ So instead I asked him, “Did Hiram tell you what he wants me to do?”

“Why do you think I have Donna following him? He’s restless. Got little to do. If she weren’t watching him, he’d be trying to sneak around those fields right now. I’m fine with it, you go and do your thing. Me, I’ll watch up there.” He pointed up, up to a familiar peak.

“Not a bad idea,” I conceded. That was my old lair. There were at least two interested parties who were probably keeping a weather eye on that hole in the ground. Three, if the things below it still survived.

Our current location was a little too close for comfort, when you got down to it. But we hadn’t had much choice. All alternative choices were gone, and mourning what could have been was a road to madness.

“Go on,” he said, lifting the binoculars again. Blackened lenses, I saw with approval. Cutting down the chances of a flash at a bad time. “I’ve got things under control here. You do your thing; we got your back.”

Westward, flying low to the ground, sending squirrels scampering and birds flittering. I kept a wide berth from anything larger... fortunately the larger things seemed to be staying clear of their newly-added human neighbors.

No surprise there. Humans were deadly on a good day.

The trees thinned, and I started hitting clearings full of stumps. Piles of wood littered the ground, with bigger logs stripped of bark here and there. An empty cart sat off to one side, half-full. I stopped for a second, surprised at the waste... then I saw that one of its wheels was shattered, and it was propped up on a few loose logs. Too damaged to be worth taking in the retreat.

It wasn’t long after that I left the forest behind, hitting a scrubland that had been stripped of most of its trees. Shortly after that, I found the first field.

It wasn’t much to look at, maybe a half-acre of some sort of grain. My agricultural knowledge was lacking, but fortunately I had people for that. First things first, though.

The cabin beyond thShe’d been the reason I’d hooked up with the Arcadians in the first place. She was the huntress who ended up in my chamber, seeking refuge from two murderous raiders. I’d helped her, and then events had unfolded rapidly.e field seemed empty, its crude door ajar. I circled slowly before coming closer to peer through the smoke-hole in the roof... nope, nobody home.

Then I headed back to the crops and took photos from every angle.

Poking around the area, I found three more fields, two smaller than the first, and the last one covering a full two acres. That one had a blockhouse instead of a cabin, and a few smaller garden plots. Potential there.

I had plenty of pictures. Now all I had to do was...

...the thought struck me that I didn’t have any way to display those pictures to Hiram.

Easily fixed. I focused in the way that Argus had taught me and visualized the object of my desire.

Schema Available: Display Monitor: A simple display, used for communication, disseminating propaganda, and placating the restless.

Would you like to create one display monitor for the cost of 3 feedstock?

A steal at the price! I hopped back to the builder swarm and had them start installing one in my main chamber. Which reminded me that I had the swarm sitting idle right now. Not so good... even if I had more time to work, I didn’t have enough that I could afford to waste it.

So I moved them back up the storm drain and started clearing out the muck up that way—

—and hit a windfall.

I wasn’t sure what all the chemicals flashing across my swarm’s ingestion stream were, but the feedstock estimate was rising fast. I pulled them off consumption and had them start on a new bin.

Then I frowned... or I would have, if I’d had a face.

Having only one swarm was too slow. Far too slow. I gave them instructions, going slowly and double-checking the programs to make sure I was doing it right. If I’d had Argus here I wouldn’t have to do this, but he was gone and I remained.

Sorrow, then. His death gnawed at me still, would for quite a while to come, I knew. I threw myself into my work as a distraction, preparing the swarm to make three new brothers, then get back to work. Once I felt the program was well-made enough to avoid a gray-goo-apocalypse-style error, I set it in motion. Then I settled in to try and figure out how to get them to gnaw through the wall of muck without wasting feedstock or collapsing the hillside if they hit something load-bearing.

Only when I heard the sound of a fingernail tapping on glass, did I come to myself again. Hiram was there, with Donna in tow. Her torch flickered and guttered, and I made a mental note to put some damn lights in here.

A low-priority note, mind. I could see just fine without them, and the place would need a lot more fixing up before it was good for Sunday socials.

“Your timing’s good, I just finished the scouting run,” I lied. How long had I been busy with my programs and swarming? An hour or two? One hour and forty minutes, my machine-mind whispered to me.

Hiram nodded, his beard a-waggling. “What have you found?”

I brought the monitor to life—

—and Donna screamed and leaped back, whipping out a knife.

There was a pause.

I cleared my throat.

Donna glanced around, looked sheepish, and stowed the knife.

Hiram, for his part, stayed stock-still throughout, though his eyes were wide. “I’ve heard of such things,” he said, a faint strain to his tone. “I had not thought to see them.”

I smiled, faceless, and started my slideshow.

They forgot their fear, crowding in close enough that a frantic mother of a bygone age might have scolded them for eyestrain. I didn’t care. I could make them glasses if it came down to it. Couldn’t I?

Insufficient Subroutines for this task!

Requirements: Fabrication 1, Recovery 1

That was a bizarre mix. But then, my entire technological advancement schema was a mix of hardcoded recipes, artificial limitations, and random patches from Juno.

It did make sense that I would have to have something in the medical tree before I could go making glasses. I needed some form of diagnosis before I could grind the lenses appropriately.

My train of thought got derailed to tracks less ocular when Hiram announced “This is good, but not enough. I need to see these fields from more angles. And I want a closer look at those herb gardens.”

“You’re in luck. I left the drone in the area, and we should have enough daylight left to get you some Pulitzer-worthy shots. Hell, I can do full video and Dolby-surround-sound if that tickles your fancy.”

Hiram got a pained look. “I understood some of that.”

“Easier to show than tell,” I said and hopped back into the drone.

Then I paused.

In the hour plus that I’d been gone, something had happened.

Not here, not in this little scrubland rise. The fields blew in the wind, unchanging.

But to the south, rose a plume of smoke, black and thick and ugly. I knew what smoke like that portended.

“Hiram, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.” I told him.

“What has happened? Has something changed?”

“Nothing much. Just war...”

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 1

Bastard Brock tried to keep his life simple.

You took jobs, you got paid, and you kicked ass. In between, there was a lot of fun until the money ran out. Then you went back to the start of things and did it all again.

Bunch of guys he’d started with had told him about saving up, finding land, getting a wife and a farm somewhere there wasn’t war.

Bastard knew bullshit when he heard it. There wasn’t any place war hadn’t found and fucked over. There were places that were quieter than others, but every place got the shaft sooner or later.

And most of those guys he’d started with? Well they’d bought the farm, but not the way they were planning. No, no, saving was a fool’s game. And getting a wife had never appealed. Whores were simpler. No chance of kids there, either, at least none that Bastard had to care about.

A simple life was a good life, and most of the time, Brock’s life was pretty good.

Most of the time.

Now? Not so much.

Things were complicated, and the source of all that complication was up on top of the ridge, wearing bulky white oversized armor that groaned and clunked. This asshole’s name was Yulian, and he was a freak.

Normally Bastard didn’t have to care about that.

But Yulian was the freak in command for this contract, and that was a problem.

“Don’t see what he’s going on about,” Brock whispered to the guy beside him. What was his name? Baller? Smaller? “This is simple. We roll in, shoot the shit out of the prims, and keep going.”

The guy shot him a fisheye look. “You ever fought the Jaspa before?”

“The who?”

The guy’s face twisted. Tallet, that was his name, Bastard remembered. He was some backwoods boonie with a beard that had never been shaved and a smell that said washing was a distant stranger as well. “The Jaspa?” Tallet asked. “The guys we’re here to fight?”

“Oh yeah, them. I got in late. Didn’t get the briefing.” For once, Bastard wasn’t making an excuse. His old contract had dried up all of a sudden, and he’d been forced to latch onto whatever he could get.

“They got guns, just not a lot,” Tallet said. “Usually it’s the rock-hard bastards that got ’em. What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” said Bastard. “So they got guns. We got more. And they don’t know we’re here yet... or they won’t so long as that asshole in white gets off the ridge before they see him.”

“They won’t. Trees are too thick here. They ain’t cut them back yet. This outpost is new.”

“And it’s too near Highbinder lands,” Bastard said. “That’s why we’re here, right? Keep them from growing their borders and hit them before they come further south?”

“Thought you said you missed the briefing?”

“Yeah, but I read the contract,” Bastard said, grinning. “Like hell I’m gonna sign something I don’t read all the way.”

Tallet grinned back. “Might be you got half a brain after all.”

“Unlike some,” Bastard smiled at Tallet, then sneered at the freak’s back. “Seen assholes like that before. Gearheads. Idiots who get ahold of some oldtech, then don’t know what to do when it breaks down right in the middle of a firefight. Betcha we’ll be hosing him out of that armor when the battery runs out and the prims play stickball with his head.”

“I might take that bet. Think there’s more to him than that,” Tallet said, eyeing the commander speculatively. “Just like there’s more to the Jaspa than just prims.”

Something about the way he’d said that... “You know these Jaspa pukes. It personal with them?”

“Personal? No. But anyone who lives around here knows they’re a problem. They raid, they war, and they take back adults as slaves and kids as new recruits. They don’t talk or barter, they just take. And there’s a lot of them, so they get away with it.” Tallet took off his dirty cap, revealing a bald head, and scratched his scalp absentmindedly. “They don’t have many guns because their tech is shit, but they have whatever they can scavenge or take, and their warriors are tough and stubborn. Most people break when their buddies start dying. Jaspa warriors, they got no buddies. They don’t run so long as there’s a chance to win and when they do it’s to get a better angle to fight back.”

“Shit,” Bastard replied. There were a couple more things he could have said, but he liked to keep things simple.

“Yup. Once we’re in, it’s on, and they’ll be the ones who decide when it’s done. So if Yulian wants to take his time on recon, then I’m okay with it. Better a cautious commander, than one who just charges us in.” He squinted his eyes at Bastard as he replaced the cap.

“Haw, all right,” Bastard said, shrugging. “We’ll see if he’s any good when the shit goes down.”

One hour later, creeping through the underbrush, the shit went down so hard that it bounced.

The hill that the prims— the Jaspa had built on rose up from the surrounding woods like a pimple on the earth’s ass. They’d cleared the woods below them, but hadn’t managed to reach the southern hills yet, and between them was a mass of stumps. A pair of watchtowers to the east and west gave good sentry points in their respective directions, and a crude stockade sheltered the tents and the six dozen or so Jaspa that were working the land. Of them, Yulian figured about a third would be warriors. Twenty Jaspa to seventy mercs seemed like a foregone conclusion, but the odds weren’t great enough to just run them over and out, not without casualties anyway.

Yulian had shown some common fucking sense in Bastard’s opinion, by declaring that casualties were counterproductive. They had three more forts to clear out after this one.

Bastard and Tallet and the rest of their squad were creeping round the growth west of the stump field, heading north. The plan was to hook around, wait until the flare went up, then come in from behind. They’d mainly block retreat, keep anyone from getting word north, but if they had easy targets then they were to take them.

All of that plan went up with a WHUMP as the air shook with a dull explosion.

“The fuck?” Tallet whispered, right in Bastard’s ear. His breath stunk like rotten grass.

“Dunno,” Bastard said, then stood.

“Hey, what are you—”

There was a spray of black against the sun now, from the east. Greasy black smoke that definitely wasn’t the flare, coming from the direction the other crew had been going. Mister armor himself had been leading that one. Had he used some oldtech weapon? Dumbass if so.

“Shit’s on,” Bastard decided, shaking off pins and needles. “Let’s run!”

He could feel it building in his gut as he took his own advice, leaving his squad behind.

It was pure adrenaline, fear and excitement and nerves and everything he’d felt ever since that first time he’d picked up a wood chopping axe and gone to settle things with the asshole who’d tried to go after his sister. It was that sick pressure that made some people freeze and other people fight, but in Bastard it just made him want to get it over with.

They’d made it around halfway around the stockade, enough to get a clear view of the tower as Bastard came out of the treeline. About five hundred yards all told to the nearest tower, and the setting sun showed two silhouettes up there, on the eastern side. It took a split-second to decide to ignore them and keep on going.

The gate on this side was firmly shut; the stockade walls a good fifteen feet high, give or take. He got up close and ran past them, so close that he could have reached out and slapped the logs if he wanted. But he had better uses for his hands.

They were shouting inside now, in that slurred northspeak that made most of the people up here sound like they were drunk. Calling to get up on the walls, see who tripped the mines, and that word made him stumble a second as the buzzing feeling in his gut rose to churning nausea... but there was no way out but through.

Just like he’d picked himself up after chopping up his sister’s attacker and run his ass out of town before he could be lynched, Bastard kept running now. The only way out was through.

Then he was at the north gate, and to his surprise and delight it was opening, logs groaning against ropes as they twisted and swung. Lucky, lucky Bastard, he knew, and he filled one hand with his revolver and the other with his chetty blade.

A pause, to give the gate a few more feet of width. A few deep breaths, because it was that or spew, and then he moved in.

The formation of hastily-gathered Jaspa stared at him, all dark leathers and nasty-looking axes and choppers and rebar sticks. They stared in disbelief, their minds locked in a way he’d been counting on.

A few seconds of surprise is worth more than gold to someone who knew what they were doing. And Bastard didn’t quite know what he was doing, but he could fake it when he had to, and he’d been doing it so long that his body knew how it went even when his brain was empty of all but the now, and his belly held nothing but nagging, furious adrenaline. And so he brought his gun up, emptied it into the front ranks, then ran back out laughing.

The looks on their faces had just been so funny, was all. Like they’d seen a turd drop right into their mug right before they were gonna take a big gulp!

Then he was off, down the way, diving behind the nearest stump alongside the northern path.

Shouts from the side he’d come, familiar shouts, and Bastard rolled his eyes. “Shut up you assholes! Shut the fuck up and kill any who come out!” he roared. Dumbasses who shouted and gave away their position when the enemy was literally fifty feet away were dumbasses who caught bullets with their brains.

Bastard tried to reload, but his fingers were too jittery. So he tucked the gun back into its holster, clutched his blade, and rolled over to peer past the stump. He got a pretty good angle on the open door... no, the closing door.

The idiots were closing it. Bastard sighed with relief and felt a lot of the tension drain out of him. The buzzing feeling went down, more so when he saw his squad back off to find their own cover on the northwest side, covering the walls and sending a few shots overhead to act as warning.

He took his time reloading, now. And he moved to some better cover as he went, keeping a weather eye on the stockade. He hadn’t seen any firing slits in the walls, didn’t mean they weren’t there.

After a time, maybe an hour, the rest of the company came straggling in from the east. The Jaspa sent shooters up into the towers a couple of times, but every time one of them tried to get a few shots, a hail of return fire sent them back down.

I don’t even know if I hit anyone, when I charged in. Shit. Guess it don’t matter.

“You folks in the fort!” The voice was amplified, artificial in a way that Bastard had only heard a few times before. He looked over to see Yulian standing in a cleared spot, white armor a little scorched and grimy. “You fought well. You can’t win. Surrender and you can go home.”

“That ain’t gonna do it,” came a puff of rotting grass breath in Bastard’s air, and he shrieked, almost pissed himself, and managed to keep from slicing Tallet open.

“Jesus,” Bastard said, lowering his chetty as he rolled over to stare into the eyes of the backwoodsman.

“Who?” Tallet asked.

“A southern god,” Bastard said. “Nevermind. The fuck you doing over here, baldy?”

Tallet looked a bit hurt. Then he shook it off, and glanced up from where he was laying. The light was bad enough now that you could barely see, but Bastard still found himself impressed. Wasn’t often some sonovabitch could sneak up on him.

“They go back home, the speakers kill ’em as cowards,” Tallet said. “They win here or they die.”

“You serious?” Bastard said, feeling his eyes go wide.

“Serious as death.”

And then an arrow thunked down right next to him, and the two men scrambled for better cover. Heads were above the palisade now, and climbers were scrambling up the towers, as the Jaspa did their best to put sharp sticks into their enemies.

“So why did you go running in like that?” Tallet asked.

Bastard had no answer for him then.

But hours later, deep in the night as the bonfire that was the fort roared and crackled and stunk of bodies roasting in uncontrolled flames, Yulian’s armored form clunked over to him, and the commander asked the same question. By then Bastard had an answer.

“It seemed like the best thing to do,” he said, staring up at the man’s helmet. There were eyes behind there, hard to see as the flames danced and crackled, reflected in the plasteel of the man’s visor. “Just kind of rolled with it, I reckon.”

Yulian nodded. “Brave or foolish, it worked out for the best. I can’t argue results, and you kept them penned in long enough that we got around. After that, the deal was sealed.”

“Took your sweet time getting’ around,” Bastard griped. Then he bit his tongue. Sassing officers had gotten him shit duty many, many times before. “Sir,” he added, a bit lamely.

“They mined the best approach with powder charges,” Yulian said. “I’d thought the ground looked different when I saw it from the ridge and took precautions to avoid it. Even so, we’ve got two dead and four wounded from collateral shrapnel.”

“That what the big explosion was?” Bastard blinked as things came together.

“Yes.” And then the white-armored figure whipped a hand up and whirled around.

For a second, for a split-second, Bastard thought he saw something up in the plume of smoke, something like a bat or a bird. But then it was gone, only eddies in the plume showing that anything had been there.

“Did you see that?” Yulian asked.

“Something. Not sure what it was,” Bastard said, squinting up into the night sky. “Gone now.”

And it went out of Bastard’s mind for most of the night.

Only just before he nodded off to sleep did he think back to that moment with any real clarity. Only then did his exhausted brain show him the flash of firelight on metal.

He thought about telling Yulian, decided it wasn’t worth getting up to do, and completely forgot about it by the morning.

FOUR

“What do we have?” Cade’s voice echoed in the distance.

“Give me a second,” I replied as I piloted the drone through the tree stumps and sped away to the west. Only when I’d put a mile between myself and the white-armored fellow, did I turn and start a leisurely loop back to the northeast.

Hopefully the deception wasn’t necessary, but better safe than sorry. If he had seen my direction of departure and cared to follow, then he would expect me to be based in the west. But it was no guarantee; whoever that guy was, he had advanced technology. I had no clue if he could track me without eyes. If he could, I was screwed, so there was no point in worrying about it.

Seventeen minutes later I felt confident enough with the drone’s autopilot that I could jump back out and return to my core.

“Sorry Charlie, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Charlie?” Cade asked, looking confused.

I looked around my newly-cleaned storm drain, to see Cade waiting. Hiram and Donna peered out from behind the pair. At least she wasn’t carrying a lantern anymore, the lights I’d bade my nanoswarm to construct were doing a decent job of illuminating the place.

The airlock system I’d made to keep the light from being visible outside had cost a pretty penny of feedstock, but it was necessary. The last thing I needed was a band of raiders checking out a strange light in the hills.

“Everythin’ all right? What do we have?” Cade repeated. “You been quiet. Hiram came and got me hours ago. We tried to check in with you, but you weren’t answering.”

That was strange. “I heard you about nine minutes ago. You’re saying you were talking earlier?”

“We were. Four or five different attempts.”

“Argus, check the—” my words died on my non-existent lips. Argus was gone. He couldn’t check the logs for me. “I’m going to chalk my lack of notice down to my corruption.”

“Corruption?” Cade frowned.

“Long story. I’m here now, that’s what matters. No, no,” I corrected myself. “What really matters is that someone is fighting the Jaspa. And there’s a man in high-tech white armor leading them.”

That got their attention. I pulled up the footage on the monitor and showed the highlights of four or five hours of action.

“The smoke that attracted me was here, from this crater. Looks like an explosion, but I’m not sure what did it. There weren’t any cannon or bombs in use during the rest of the battle.”

“I know what did it,” Hiram said. “That’s black powder smoke. Did you get a close look at the crater?”

“Only one, back when they moved up to siege the gate.”

Hiram rubbed his temples. “The Jaspa buried powder charges, and set tripwires combined with strikers. God forgive us, we taught them that trick.”

“Looks like it caught a few of the attackers.” I showed a flash of the medical tent, and a shot of a guy being dragged in, footless and screaming.

Hiram turned away, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, big guy,” I tried to reassure him.

“You do not understand. Our faith is not one of violence. They would not have these traps if they had not taken the trick from us.” His shoulders heaved, and Donna reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but let it lay where it was.

“Well it could have been worse. The guy in charge was savvy enough that there weren’t too many casualties.” I flicked through shots of the attackers and the defenders. Not too many of the latter, only about fifteen Jaspa all told. “So who are the attackers? Who has a beef with the Jaspa?”

“Wish I could tell you for certain,” Cade shook his head. “But it could be anyone local. The Jaspa are always pushing out, always grabbin’ for more. So that ain’t a good question. What is a good question, is who can afford that many shooters and that many guns? Those guys are putting a lot of lead in the air. That ain’t cheap.”

“I might know,” Hiram said. “This fort was southwest, you said?”

“About an hour’s flight from the farm with the herb gardens.”

“Southeast of my home... It must be the Highbinders. They have a town there, in the middle of a vast cemetery. We shunned them for their desecration, but many go there to trade and find work. I would imagine these are mercenaries. The Highbinders are rich enough to afford an army this size.”

Hiram was fast turning into a valuable asset, for his knowledge alone. Even barring the chemistry skills. I was very, very glad I’d managed to recruit him out from under enemy noses.

I turned to the other highly-valuable asset in the room. “Cade, we’ve got some rich merchants smacking around the Jaspa while the raiders are on the back foot. What do you think about the enemy of my enemy?”

“I think they sure as shit ain’t our friends,” Cade responded, instantly. Good to see that the saying was still alive and well, even in this new ruined era. “But they ain’t necessarily our enemies. Best we stay out of it, though. No sense in risking any resources or people on someone else’s war.”

Cade had made great gains when he helped me with my war. But this was different. “I’d tend to agree. Besides, if they can afford a commander with that sort of technology, our own contributions probably wouldn’t be as highly valued. Damn near every one of those attackers had a gun. We’ve got what, six or seven?”

“Nine, but one’s busted,” Cade said. “Need to fix it when we get a proper workbench made. But yeah, we ain’t got the people to bolster their ranks or the assets to make a difference.” He was frowning as he said that, though.

Again, there were words left unspoken. There was an asset that could make a difference for the Jaspa’s enemies, and that asset was me. But it would be the height of folly to reveal myself to an unknown quantity who had already proven themselves quite capable of violence.

I was the opposite of a trusting soul on a good day, and I wasn’t sure how good this day was going to be. “No assets worth risking,” I muttered and watched Cade relax, just a fraction. He knew the score.

“What do we do?” Donna spoke, and the translator did its job.

“Nothing, yet,” I told her. “I’ll keep an eye on them from a distance and see how it goes. We’ll stick to the original plan to grow and fortify, and if they come this way then we’ll deal with it as best we can. If they’re mercenaries like Hiram thinks, then they won’t go after us for fun; no pay in it. They might raid us if we look weak though, so it’s best to avoid drawing their attention early.”

“We should do more than that,” Cade said, tugging on his gray goatee. “Hiram, you know where the Highbinder town is?”

“Roughly. It should not be hard to find, if it is as large as has been described to me.”

“We can send you in there quietly to do some trading. Jus’ a wandering merchant, or something like that. And maybe you can ask some questions on the sly or listen quiet-like...”

“I can’t spare him right now,” I objected. “And that’s a hell of a lot of useful skills out there in the field, at risk. Maybe he tells someone how to get there, and somebody who’s less critical to our survival takes a whack at it.”

Cade chewed his lip. “I could go myself.”

“Elder, no,” Donna said. “You are brave, but you are old.”

The girl was blunt. I could respect that.

“In any case, that’s a gutsy move that we don’t need yet. If we do, then we can figure out the details and make sure nobody gets into something they can’t handle.” I could respect Cade’s willingness to risk himself, but it revealed a tendency to gamble that I knew I’d have to keep an eye on. This guy was my co-leader. I couldn’t have him making snap decisions on bad odds.

“So for now we do nothing.” He definitely sounded sour.

“Nothing except observe,” I reminded him. “We need time before we start putting anything on the board. Keep watching my old lair, I’ll keep digging. And about that...”

I opened the doors I’d installed behind me. “Tell me what you think.”

I’d sent my swarm digging through the blockage at an angle, just a tiny tunnel about the diameter of a quarter. I’d had visions of a century of water behind the block, sweeping out and washing me away. But I needn’t have bothered. Something had diverted the flow long ago, either another cave-in or pipe collapse upstream. There was an empty pocket behind the wall that had been filled with mold and rusty remnants, which had made for some tasty feedstock.

Some quick re-purposing had turned them into basic quarters. Concrete floors, plastic-coated walls, and a hole in the floor with a plastic curtain around it for basic biology. I had the bandwidth to claim about sixty feet by thirty without impacting my other plans, so there was no reason to hold back on space. It’d be a tight squeeze, but we could get the entire tribe in here if worse came to worst.

“So quickly...” Hiram muttered, as he paced into the room. Lights in the ceiling clicked to life as he went... not many. My feedstock had been low by the time I was done with this.

“Hours,” I told him. “I had to make another nanobuilder swarm to get it done in a reasonable amount of time.”

“It’s a start,” Cade said. “But I see a very big problem.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ventilation. The air ain’t movin’. You get more than a dozen folks in here, it’ll get hard to breathe in very short order. And hot, too.”

“I could poke holes in the ceiling, run channels up above...” I mused over the idea. “No. No, that’s too simple. And any hole big enough to help with that would be big enough for wildlife to fall into or risk being noticed from above. All right. Time to get technical.”

My standard systems came with basic air circulation capability, but I doubted they could handle all forty-odd people at once. So I put in for a simple air handler.

Insufficient subroutines for this task!

Requirements: Fabrication 1, Infrastructure 1, Organic 1

I sighed. Of course, it wasn’t that simple.

I saw variations of this message whenever I tried to make something that my existing capabilities couldn’t cover. In this case, though, I was fortunate. Both fabrication and infrastructure were categories under construction, and I’d well-exceeded their requirements. Organic, though, that was under storage. It was about the only subroutine under storage that I hadn’t touched, and that gave me a silver lining of sorts; I could get an improvement out of this.

“I’ll work on that,” I promised Cade. “Come back tomorrow, and you can grade me then. Hiram, before you go, one question; have you finished looking over the fields?”

“I have,” he said, pointing at the screens. “It is not the same as being there myself, but the situation seems simple enough. They have fall crops ripening, but most are still three weeks away from a good harvest. Assuming the Jaspa do not return, we should be able to reap enough from the farms to survive winter.”

“If we keep hunting,” Donna told him.

“That too,” Hiram nodded. “But it isn’t as simple as coming back in three weeks. The crops will need tending and protecting if we wish to get the best results. Insects and wildlife will account for some loss. Others will need water and some simple fertilizer, one last round of the stuff in about a week.”

“That ramps up our risk of being noticed,” I pointed out. “Even with mercenaries doing their thing. Especially with the mercs doing their thing. Armies travel on their stomachs. I haven’t known a single one that would pass up a good foraging opportunity in the field, given the chance.”

I said it and knew it to be true, but I had no memory of any armies at all. I had led men and waged war, this I knew. But it was all digital ghosts in the halls of my somewhat broken digital brain. And that was assuming that it had really happened, as opposed to being an airy fiction to begin with. Part of me was based on a hero that had never existed... at least, if my worst enemy was to be believed.

That was a pretty big if, now that I thought about it. I filed that one away for future reference.

I had to deal with the now. “All right,” I told my trio of allies. “I’m going to see about ventilation, and a few other things. Scoot on out, and I’ll get on with the magic core stuff.”

They scooted— scat? I couldn’t say. I took small comfort in the fact that English teachers were a dying breed in this post-apocalyptic world.

Well, around these parts anyway. Who knew what the rest of the world looked like? I’d see it someday, perhaps. Once I was confident enough and knowledgeable enough to reactivate my severed gridnet connection and access what was left of the online world.

Once they were gone, I quickly slotted my recently-gained circuit into organic storage. And even as I thought of the blueprint I wanted and began to build, words whipped into my interface.

Organic Subroutine is now 1

You have unlocked a Storage Improvement!

Three options are available at this juncture:

Armored Storage – All containers are reinforced against violence and disaster.

Maximized Storage Space – Construction automatically finds the best way to maximize storage space, allowing an average of 10% more capacity than otherwise generated.

Whitelist – Storage is only accessible to people and entities that you add to a preset permissions list.

Tough, tough call.

I wracked my brain on these for a few minutes, feeling the loss of Argus keenly.  Armored Storage would better protect the people in the rooms I made. And it’d slow down any raiders who tried to destroy my feedstock containers. But to be honest, if things got to that point I would be in a bad spot. And I already had the Sturdy Construction improvement. This would double-layer the improvements, true, but diminishing returns would be diminishing returns. I’d be turning down the other two choices permanently. Was it worth it?

Maximized Storage was more interesting. Space was at a premium down here, due to the fact I had to commit bandwidth proportionate to the space I grabbed. Ten percent would add up over time, allow me to do more with less. But...

...I wasn’t up against a toxic waste dump, like last time. My probing mining attempts through the area had found nothing save for rocks and dirt and a few pipes that clearly had an origin miles away. Given time, I could expand without too much threat from internal regions. And I was trying to plan for the long game, now.

That left the Whitelist.

I was many things, but I wasn’t a trusting sort. This would allow me peace of mind as far as securing my valuables and preventing sneaky bastards from trying their sneaky bastardy on me and mine.

But...

Me and mine could be counted on ten hands worth of fingers. And I had Cade and Donna to watch and handle anyone who went against the grain or showed signs of kleptomania. I didn’t have to worry about outsiders coming and going, not yet or possibly not for years.

And thinking it over, it wouldn’t give me peace of mind; it would give me an extra layer of security. It would slow down a dedicated attacker, but if push came to shove and more TNT came to my doors, it wouldn’t do a thing to help the situation.

No. Even given my bent toward paranoia I didn’t think it was a good choice. And it was a mere level 1 improvement... any of my core enemies could probably rip through it like a wombat’s rump through a water balloon.

Wait, what the hell was a wombat?

I lost a minute or two trying to remember but got nothing.

With a sigh, I turned my thoughts back to the other two options and decided that Maximized Storage was the way to go. Even if I did have a large amount of space to expand into, time was still a factor. As such, the incremental gains over time would be helpful whenever things came to a head... which would hopefully be far, far into the future. I made my choice, and crossed non-existent fingers.

Maximized Storage Selected! Upgrading existing structures...

Boom. Darkness.

I came to slowly, systems flickering back to life one by one, feeling like I’d had a drunken headbutting competition with a semi-truck. Okay, so it seemed like my corruption was still doing a number on me. Hopes that I was finally past this fled, banished and exiled from the realm of my contentment.

Voices.

“You wake? You woke?” The translator program hiccuped, and got back on track. I focused bleary optical sensors on an Arcadian wearing an open, furry vest. I’d seen his face, but no name came to mind.

“Who are you?”

“I am Rauph. Please send your flying thing out to speak with Juscade.”

Juscade... that was what they called Cade, I remembered. I checked the timestamp and winced. Almost a full day... “Can he come here instead?” I asked, setting the nanoswarms to the next stage of construction.

“No. Things are coming from your lair. Things that glow in the darkness.”

I tried to breathe a sigh, remembered that I didn’t have lungs.

No matter what I did, trouble always found me...

FIVE

“What’s the skinny?” I asked, sliding the drone up the ridge, keeping low and out of the light.

“They’re not that skinny,” Cade said, frowning. “What did Rauph tell you? And are you all right? You weren’t answering.”

“Just upgrading. He told me you’d spotted some glowing goons.”

“Not glow. Shine.”

Well there went that forlorn hope.

The apocalypse had broken the world; nukes had been in play, along with weapons of a far stranger ilk. But the most pernicious of them, worse even than hard radiation, was the nanotech hazard called shine. It was a mix of strains that were never supposed to be mixed, and enough of them had been hacked to remove safety protocols that they were both invasive and self-replicating. When they got into a medium that could support them, they’d start taking apart useful chemicals and materials and making more of themselves.

Some of them could flourish inside of a person, up until they sapped that person of everything that made their bones hard, or took all the useful iron molecules out of the poor bastard’s liver, or a million and one other horrible things that all amounted to death or misery.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, they had worse options when it came to me. Not only was I full of useful materials, but I was made to produce, control, host, and support nanotech. If I got infected, then I might literally suffer a fate worse than death.

“Yeah,” Cade said, when I didn’t reply. “It was a pretty big thing moving around up there. All dark against the night, with crawling veins that kept shifting through all the colors. Like—”

“Like an oil slick with a rainbow glowing through it,” I interrupted. “The damned thing survived.”

Cade stared at me. “You know this thing.” No question in his tone.

“I do. I dropped part of a mountain on it.”

“Let me guess. It took that personally.”

“You could say that.” In fact, if it was the thing that I thought it was, then it had a vested motive in hunting me down. But I didn’t feel like sharing that with Cade. If I kept adding to his baggage, he might decide to cut his losses, take his people, and run.

That would be a net loss for me. True, I’d have less people to take care of, but sooner or later one of them would talk, the wrong ears would hear it, and I’d have some other group of assholes to deal with. Or worst case, fail to deal with.

Cade sagged back into his camp chair. “There were smaller things up there too, moving around. ’Bout the size of dogs. Low to the ground.”

That was new and not so good. “Have you hit something like this before? How did you handle it then?”

“We didn’t,” Cade said, slowly. “We were close enough to Tyr that his machines took care of stuff like that.”

“Did you ever see him take care of that?” I persisted. “Anything at all?”

“From what the scouts tell me, he burns it out. Drops bombs from above, sends in his human troops from below to sweep and make sure it’s gone.”

“Putting his people at risk...” He hadn’t struck me as a callous man, but then he wasn’t a man anymore, now was he?

Neither was I, when you came down to it. Not entirely. But that was a rabbit hole I didn’t want to fall down right now and possibly not ever. Not until I found a way to simulate whiskey on the rocks and a bar full of fellow philosophers.

“Yeah. Every time that stuff turned up around the city ruins, he took care of it fast. Most times we didn’t know anything was around until the screamers clustered, and the smoke went up.”

Tyr regarded the stuff as a serious threat. The implications of that chilled me. If a core with years of development and a strong follower and technology base had a zero-tolerance policy towards shine, then what kind of danger was I in?

But something nagged in the back of my mind, and I listened to it. “It was glowing brightly last night, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Bright enough to be seen from the city?”

“Couldn’t say,” Cade chewed his mustache. “They were movin’ around. Lost track of them against the peak several times.”

“From this side.” I turned the drone, considered the mountain. I’d reshaped it a bit, during my escape. “It’s plausible Tyr missed them. But that doesn’t match with what you just told me.” That little voice in the back of my mind had a megaphone now. “It’s a trap.”

“What? For who? Nobody’s got any use for shine.”

“Which is why I’ve used that to my advantage with the glowy paint tricks. But I’m not the only clever bastard around. No, this is either faked, or he’s letting it keep going to draw me out.” Voicing the words firmed my certainty. This wasn’t just paranoia. I really did have people out to get me.

But I didn’t know.

If it was a trap, it was a clever one. “We can’t afford to ignore this,” I told Cade. “And I can’t overfly it. Not without risking exposure. That’s the equivalent of death at this juncture.”

“Damn right we can’t ignore it,” Cade said and rubbed his face. The man wore every inch of his age today, and I wondered how long our partnership would last before the great leveler took his toll. The pragmatic part of me made a note to figure out who his successor would be; it would be a good idea to figure out a working relationship before entropy did its thing.

Cade continued. “I’m not sure what we can do about it, though. We don’t have bombs or any way to burn it out, and the smoke it would put up would draw attention.”

“We’re going to have to gamble,” I decided. “Who are your best scouts?”

“I see where this is going, and I’m not sure I want to take that step right now.”

“You don’t have a choice. If shine, real shine, gets into these woods then what’s it going to do to our hunting and gathering? The crops are a month off, at least.”

Cade frowned. “And my best scouts are my best hunters. Lose them and it don’t matter how good the hunting is.”

We bargained, he and I. I knew he’d give in the end; this was too big to ignore.

I worked as I talked, pulling up a new schematic. I paused as I saw the feedstock cost. Low, very low. I could take a day, mine a bit of dirt and stone, and outfit the entire tribe, if I chose.

But I had no need for that as yet, so I packed a few more features onto the basic blueprint and called it good.

The haggling wound down. Cade gave a heavy sigh and stood, hands in his pockets, staring down at my resting drone. “All right. I’ll check with my people and ask for volunteers.”

“Three of them.”

Cade frowned again. “Three of them.” That had been a sticking point. But dealing with shine required redundancies. “And this stuff you have? When’ll that be ready?”

I tried to put a conciliatory tone in my voice. “It’s waiting for them in the main room. Complete with pictures to show them how to put it on.” It was dead simple in my opinion, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

“You work fast,” he said, and his tone was more resigned than complimentary. Couldn’t say I blamed him. We’d be sending his people into danger immediately.

Five minutes later I was watching Donna, a guy called Marb, and a kid named Kagan put on thin crowns of wire and tuck small plastic buds into their ears. It was basically a body camera combined with a tactical rig; it allowed recording and two-way communication. I’d also told the system to secure the broadcast as much as I could, but I was a bit shakier on that end of things. This was one of those areas where I keenly missed Argus. It would be difficult to replace his expertise.

Kagan finished early and went around the room, rubbernecking. He kept rubbing his fingers on the walls and staring at them. Kind of odd, but I wasn’t about to raise a fuss. The nanoswarm could and had taken care of worse things than fingerprints on my clean walls.

“All right,” I said, “let’s talk about geography.”

I threw a mockup of the area up on the monitor, then instantly regretted it as they exclaimed in wonder and spent precious minutes poking and nattering about the thing.

“Focus,” I snapped after I could no longer stand the merciless march of time. “Your loved ones are depending on you. This is the ridge. This is the ruins of my old lair. Cade told me he spotted the creatures here, here, and here.” I flagged the requisite points on the map with glowy splotches. “There’s two things we need to do here. One is to secure the route that you took when you brought me here, the other is to scout out the ruins and see what we’re dealing with. Nobody is allowed to get captured, get infected, or die. Do you understand me?”

They did, so I made it a little more complicated. “After you scout out the site, I need you to take an indirect route back, because odds are good that Tyr has the area under surveillance. I need you to head off somewhere in the wilderness away from camp until nightfall, then make your way back here as safely as possible. You need to make sure you aren’t followed. Maybe overshoot the camp by a bit, head out to the farms and do something for Hiram along the way. Sound good? Any questions?”

They had a few, and a couple of ideas that I hadn’t come up with. I was impressed. They might not be well-educated, but they knew their business. And they knew how to hide their fear. I could tell by the tightness in their eyes, and the way they stood, that they were taking this one seriously.

Good.

I sent them on their way, and after they were outside I activated their tactical rigs, one by one. Then I cranked them all on at the same time and tried watching through three cameras at once.

It was... different.

There was vertigo, there was a disconcerting feel, but I adjusted faster than I expected. A slight perk of a silicon-based brain, I supposed.

They spent a few minutes checking with Hiram. He gave them crude carved wooden tools, and some instructions on weeding. They took it in stride, though the bobbing of their nodding heads was disconcerting to my multi-view.

I watched their departure through three different perspectives. Once they were about five minutes out, I tested the tactical-rig part of things. “Can you hear me?”

To their credit, nobody screamed. Donna froze mid-step, Marb dove into the underbrush, and Kagan whirled around, pulling out a pretty sizeable knife so quickly I had to replay and slow down the footage to track it.

A second, two, then Donna nodded. “I can hear you. This is what those things in our ears do?”

“One of them. They let me see from the bands on your heads and speak to you from a distance.  I can hear you, too. Whisper to me as quietly as you can, and I will hear it.”

I didn’t tell them that I was also tracking their heartbeats.

I’d gained a spare circuit from my forced convalescence and spent it to add the heartbeat-monitoring function to the tactical rigs. It surprised me, because it seemed a minor thing. Now I had one stuck into Medical: Recovery, which covered diagnostics, first aid, and surgery.

I’d have picked it up eventually, so I wasn’t too sore about the required buy. Besides, if any of these three came back injured it might save a life.

I ran a line across the monitor map as they went, doing my best to match their movements to the terrain. There were a few cases where I had to reconcile the flying drone’s map to their movements; the forest was deceptive in both its undergrowth and canopy. They really had found us a hidden little corner of the wilderness to squat in. Until fall thinned out the leaves, we’d be nigh-undetectable from the ground.

Barring bad luck, anyway. And I couldn’t bar bad luck. It had already made it through the door and was sipping whiskey at a table, waiting for me to lower my guard.

My merry crew stopped and conferred a few times. Even through my translator, it made no sense. They were using short, curt words and hand signals, their own form of battle sign. It was all contextual and had probably been invented in the group.

After about five or six miles and one final gab, they split up and went forward, searching the underbrush for something.

“What are you looking for?” I asked Donna.

“Your little cart. It stopped running somewhere around here, so we left it and carried you by hand the rest of the way.”

My little cart?

I didn’t remember... no, wait.

I had a construction drone. I’d used it during the battles with the Jaspa and programmed it to carry me, after...

...the world turned gray and stuttered a few times.

After what seemed an eternity, but my timestamps confirmed had only been a few seconds, I pulled out of the seizure-like fit. Now I understood. The memory had fallen into the corrupted part of my mind; that was why I hadn’t thought of it earlier.

The construction drone had been programmed to follow Cade or anyone he designated as the leader; that it hadn’t made it the full way was disconcerting... though not surprising, come to think of it. The battery pack on it could have run out of charge midway through. Especially with the rough terrain that we’d been moving through.

A whistle, deafening from Kagan’s audio sensor, barely audible from the other two’s input. I focused on Kagan, to see him squatting down next to a depression in the mud under the roots of a long-toppled tree.

Something heavy had been there. And as Kagan’s perspective turned, I saw drag-marks in the ground and torn bits of underbrush.

I didn’t need to be a scout to decipher what had happened. Someone had found my drone, and made off with it, and they’d done so recently.

“Well,” I muttered, as the other scouts came up and saw the results of grand theft drone. “At least they were considerate enough to leave us a trail.”

SIX

Two hours later, my drones-by-proxy caught up to the culprits.

I peered down at glowing, ant-like robots the size of Dobermans. They were a mess of exposed wires, support struts, and rippling flaps of rubber, coated over with an ever-moving oil slick of shine.

These were the things that Cade had seen up on the peak. Not the big ones, no, but some kind of scouts or workers. And two of these corrupted drones had found my drone and were happily dragging it back toward my old lair with pincers that looked like they’d been crafted from garden shears.

They were having a tough time with the construction drone, at least. It was bulky, about the size of a shopping cart but lower to the ground. The enemy drones hadn’t been built for hauling, and the terrain was rough.

Their destination was obvious. They’d dragged it in a straight line, ignoring some easier trails and shortcuts.

“Fall back a bit,” I told my troops. “Get out of sight and let’s talk about this.” I checked the map while they did their thing. Then I did some math.

That part was easy, at least. I just thought about what I was trying to do, and my hardware took care of the rest. A minor but useful benefit to being a machine intelligence.

The downside was that I couldn’t get an exact answer with the information I had. I wanted to know how long we had before they reached my old bunker. But I didn’t know when they had found the construction drone, or how long it had taken them to get this far. All I had to measure was their current pace, and even that would be dependent upon the terrain. And that would change, too.

In the end it gave me a range instead of a solid answer, and I ground nonexistent teeth as I accepted the imprecision of an uncaring world.

“Good news, bad news, and worse news,” I said, once my trio of malcontents were safely away. “The good news is that it might take them as much as eight hours to cover the terrain. The bad news is that it could be as little as four. The worse news is that they don’t have to cover the full terrain. If they get close enough, odds are good that more of them will come down to help.”

“Is your cart that precious to you?” Donna said, her voice raspier than usual. I forgave her the wheeze; she’d gotten that because of me, sucking in lungfuls of tainted smoke.

“By itself, no. They’re probably looking for me,” I said. “This is evidence that something of mine went west. If they get it home, they’ll probably send more scouts out west, and eventually they’ll find us.”

“Even if they don’t,” Marb said, “they will pass shine along to our hunting grounds. We all saw the drops of it in their backtrails.”

The group fell silent and shared worried looks. It was surreal, watching from all of their foreheads as they glanced at each other, back over, and away.

As I understood it, the fact that the goop hadn’t spread out over the grass meant that it wasn’t the sort that spread through plants. The downside was that there was no way of telling if it was the sort that could spread through animals without testing it, and testing it might spread the stuff.

If it couldn’t spread through animals, then lying there long enough would eventually kill it; the stuff was harmless if left alone. If it could, all it would take was an insect or a chipmunk or something of the sort to get an outbreak going.

I conferred with the scouts and marked it on the map. After this was all done, we’d see about getting someone out here to bury any shine patches deep.

“Now we know what’s at stake,” I interrupted their gloomy contemplation. “Let’s talk about how to head ’em off at the pass. And what to do once you get there.”

“We cannot steal it from them,” Kagan said. “There was shine running all down it. It is tainted now.”

“So we don’t steal it. But we make sure that it doesn’t make it back. And neither do they,” I decided. “We need to find a good point to jump them, then figure out a way to do it that doesn’t get anyone infected or killed.”

I looked at the map.

Three obstacles came to mind. The first was the river. I’d used that to good effect against the Jaspa, damming it upstream and cutting loose when they were fording. But that had taken a good amount of rain, night’s cover, and a good-sized war party of enemies, big enough that I was guaranteed to do some damage. The weather had been dry lately, so the river was down, and I didn’t have time to direct my little group to build a dam. And I didn’t know whether these infected drones were better in daylight or during night-time. With no idea what they used for vision, all I could say for certain was that my people would be hindered by darkness, so I’d be better off engaging while we still had sunlight.

The second obstacle was a tangle of thick trees in some relatively swampy ground. My crew could climb up those and shoot down. We couldn’t use guns for this; Tyr’s forces were too close and too observant. But Marb and Donna had bows, and that was something.

Except... I didn’t know how well the drones could climb.

The mud would slow them down at least, their thin little legs weren’t made for that sort of business. But it would hamper my people, too.

The third obstacle was a crumbled comm tower on the hill just before the start of the mountain’s grade. Little more than a fallen iron skeleton, it wasn’t directly in the machines’ path but provided a good ambush point and some possibilities for booby traps. The downside there, was that the mountain was right above. If the controller of these drones saw what was going on, it could come down to join the fun. Even if everything went flawlessly, we’d be guaranteed pursuit.

We might have pursuit anyway. I had no idea if these things had a remote method of communicating. I was assuming no, because they only had two of the things hauling my drone back. But the possibility existed that they did, and the only reason there weren’t more was because whoever was calling the shots figured it was a two-drone job or needed the resources elsewhere.

Three options, none of them perfect. My life seemed to revolve around things that came in threes.

“The tower,” I said to my scouts. “The fallen metal one up on the small hill. How quickly do you think you can reach that?”

A bit of banter, before Donna coughed and waved a hand. “Two hours if we hurry.”

I checked the time. four hours before dusk. If my crew could reach there in two hours, the slow, dragging drones would take at least two or three times as long.

Darkness would be a factor if we waited to ambush at that obstacle.

I did some more quick math. Probably one hour and change to reach the swampy tangle. The river was closest, but I didn’t trust our odds there.

Wait. Hold the phone! Why was I putting all my eggs in one basket?

But before I finalized plans, I needed to make sure my crew could seal the deal. “We need to destroy, ah, that little cart. That or hide it in a place they can’t find,” I told them. “Do you have anything on you that might work for that? Or know any way to get that done?”

A lot of pursed lips and shaking heads. “Elder Wynne,” Marb said, raising a hand like a child in school. “It has shine on it now. Like calls to like. Tainted things are good at finding other taint, it is one of the first lessons we learn. It is why the infected cannot return home.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Destroyed, then. What have we got that’s good for that?” I asked.

It took a few precious minutes to get my idea across— not just breaking it up but turning it into bits that were useless or unidentifiable. The best the scouts could do was build a fire and try to burn it, which wouldn’t work... anything hot enough to melt metal would take time and be visible as hell during the night. And the smoke... well, there would be no hiding that, even with three veteran wilderness hands on my side.

The short answer was that unless I could get one of my nanoswarms out there, I had no way to destroy the damned thing. And I didn’t want to risk a nanoswarm on untested shine.

I chose the least bad option, ran it by my people, and sent them to their destinations.

Donna went on ahead to the swampy tangle. She was fast, but her damaged lungs meant I didn’t want to push her too hard, so I warned her to take her time. Marb was the slowest, so I set him on a steady path to the fallen tower. He’d be our last line of defense, and a watcher to the east in case the horrors on the hill tried something. Kagan was the youngest and almost as fast as Donna. He got river duty.

It was an easy jog. I checked the timestamp, figured he had about half an hour before the critters reached it. “Good kid. Climb a tree, tie a rope to a branch for an escape route. And make sure you’ve got some good throwing rocks squirreled into your pockets. We’re going to run some tests, here.”

Three scouts, three shots. I needed to know more about the foe before I put a strategy into play.

My kid had barely gotten into place, when he caught movement at the edge of the river. I would have scowled if I’d had a face. So soon? Had I misjudged their progress?

Then the deer burst from the wood line, and barely slowed as they crossed the river.

I caught the rise in the kid’s heartbeat, saw his hand come up with a rock.

“No. Bad scout. No merit badge,” I snapped.

Pretty sure he didn’t know a merit badge from a malicious mime, but he got the message. He did watch the deer go past him with a long look, though, and I couldn’t blame him. That was dinner on the hoof, and it was getting away.

“I’ll take my eye in the sky out later and help you guys hunt,” I promised him. “For now, we have to focus.”

We didn’t have to focus long.

I heard them long before we saw them, rattling and banging and the sound of tearing plants as the glowbugs manhandled my old drone up to the river-bank.

They didn’t hesitate but waded straight in. The edge of the water was shallow, and it slowed them not at all as their legs twitched and scrabbled.

“Now,” I whispered in Kagan’s ear, and he let fly with a rock.

His aim was a bit off, and it plipped down next to them with no visible reaction from the glowbugs.

The next one was on target though, smacking into the back of the rearmost one, and rebounding with a loud ‘Clack!’

That got their attention. The one that was struck reared back, poking what might be its head out of the water, and my scout didn’t need to be told twice. He let fly with a home run pitch and caught it square between the mandibles. It rocked back, something fell off, and it gave up on hauling my drone and beelined into the water. Soon it was under, but I could see a bit of the glow as it bumbled through the rocks, arrowing straight for us.

“Get ahold of the rope and get ready to swing down,” I told Kagan. I doubted he could hit it any harder than he had already, and it wasn’t worth his life to try.

And as he glanced back and forth, I noted that the one in front hadn’t stopped hauling.

“Nail the front one with a rock if you can. I think we’ve got time.”

It wasn’t as hard a throw, but it was a clear hit, and the second one didn’t react, just kept dragging as best it could across the river.

Then the first one was out, rushing the tree. It reared up, body folding in segments as it jabbed sharp legs into the bark, grabbing for branches and hauling itself up with more strength than its size would suggest.

“Go!” I barked and Kagan didn’t need to be told twice, gabbing the rope and shoving off with both feet. He hit the ground, rolled, and came up running. The noise behind me suggested that the glowbug was in hot pursuit.

I shut up and let him do his thing. He didn’t need a distraction right now.

Twelve minutes later he stopped running, huddled behind a hedge. The bug-thing kept going, and we watched it speed by together. We’d faked it out. But that wasn’t enough.

“Watch it as best you can,” I told Kagan. “Get to a vantage point, I want to see what it does.”

Up another tree, this time without a rope. The kid managed to get eyes back on it as it circled back, and for a second, I thought it had seen him climb. But no, it passed by on a return course, heading back for its comrade if I was any judge.

Once I was certain it was gone, I tried to talk to the kid. It took a few tries, his heart rate was through the roof, and I knew that adrenaline was taking him for a joyride. Finally, he acknowledged me.

“Elder. That was... I fear those things.”

“You’re not alone. But they can be hurt.”

I hoped so. Whatever we’d knocked off hadn’t seemed to hinder it. But the kid needed reassurance, so I put it into my tone. “Rest up. Give it an hour. Then start following their trail. We’ve learned valuable things from what you just did. I think we can finish this at the swamp.”

He was a kid, but he flopped back against a tree and tucked into some jerky like an old campaigner. I left him to his well-earned rest and blinked over to Donna.

But then, I’d never left her, had I? Some part of my focus had been on her, and her quiet journey through the trees. It just hadn’t been as relevant as the kid’s frantic flight, so I’d ignored it. Every second was there, and I could go back and review it at my leisure if I wanted to, just by thinking hard.

There was something to this. How far could I go, and still be able to track things simultaneously? Was there a limit? I didn’t have any circuit trees dealing with this.

I put it to the side as Donna got to where she needed to be, wheezing slightly. She coughed, spat, and started poking around for a good roost.

“They can climb trees,” I advised her, so she made her way to a viny hillock and tucked herself in.

I watched through her tac-rig as she unlimbered her bow, then plucked arrows from a wrapped quiver one by one.

“Not the broadheads,” I told her. The drones might not have armor, but they were still metal and plastic. Penetration would be everything here, and for that we needed every bit of power focused on a tiny point.

I wouldn’t call the sharpened scraps of metal on the end of those shafts proper bodkin heads, but they might do the trick. Maybe.

Then came the waiting. I watched the sun dip toward the tops of the trees, and watched with Donna as we waited. Half an hour into it, Kagan caught up to the bastard drones, and I got a better idea of when they’d arrive. I did some math and didn’t like the outcome.

“Marb? Going to need you down here. Fast.” I told him. “Head back to Donna’s position. It’s there or never.” Come nightfall, my humans would be mostly useless. We’d stop them here or never. Much as I liked the comm tower, and thought it had good ambush potential, this wasn’t the time or place for it.

On the upside, it hadn’t been a wasted trip. Marb had watched the peak like a hawk, and though we had caught glimpses of what might be more dog-sized drones, none seemed inclined to come this way. Which meant that the two drones we were dealing with likely didn’t have a usable form of communication back to their controller, at least not one that reached that far.

There was a sliver of sunlight left when the drones broke the trees, and Donna’s first arrow took one right in the body.

Immediately it broke off and clattered forward, one leg hanging limp.

She had a peach of a shot.

And a racking cough that fouled her aim and sent the arrow back into the trees, barely missing Kagan as he charged forward.

“Run!” I told her, and focused on Kagan. Marb was too far away to make a difference...

The kid didn’t lack for bravery, but I wished he’d talked this over with me beforehand. There were a hell of a lot of things he could have done.

Instead, he charged right for the glowbug still dragging my drone, and brought a heavy rock down on its back with every bit of his teenage strength.

He got its attention, and the one after Donna doubled back.

“Turn and shoot!” I urged her. Then I switched to Kagan. “Run!”

He tried but not fast enough. Through Donna’s eyes I watched garden shear mandibles take a slice out of his leg and for a second I thought that was it. That was the hamstring, that was death.

But he kept going, and I would have sighed in relief if I had lungs. It had missed the tendon.

Donna shot true and drilled the returning one at a good angle. It rolled over and thrashed, legs spasming. “Get the one on the kid!” I barked.

Her heart rate was off the scale, and I had to repeat myself a few times until she got the drift. The kid was climbing a big tree, blood dripping down his heels, and the thin, glowing bug behind him was keeping pace.

My chief scout reached behind her for a new arrows... and spilled them as she fell to her knees, coughing and hacking. Blood in that, I noted, even as I watched helplessly.

Nothing. Nothing I could do!

Kagan screamed, as the mandibles found him again...

...and an arrow snickered and snapped through the glowbug, pinning it to the tree.

Marb had arrived. Marb who wasn’t the fastest, or the best shot, but whose sense of timing made up for all that.

Even then, the glowbug wasn’t dead. But it was stuck pretty well, and before it could dig free, my two unwounded scouts were on it, battering with heavy branches until they knocked it to bits. Then, ignoring the slowing, scrabbling one to the side, they helped Kagan down and examined his wounds.

All three of them groaned collectively as Donna wiped blood from his gashed leg. Faint glowing specks were still visible in the wound.

“I’m dead,” Kagan said, flatly.

“Maybe,” I said. “Let me try something.”

I envisioned what I wanted, an antidote or cleansing agent to remove the shine. It was a long shot...

...and it failed.

Insufficient Subroutines for this task!

Requirements: Analysis 4, Cybernetics 3, Energy 5, Recovery 5

“No.” I told him. “There’s nothing I can do. Not for weeks. Many weeks.” And even if he survived for that long, there’s nothing to say his case wouldn’t worsen. It might take more dedicated subroutines to fix him by that point, and that was assuming he’d still be alive after all was said and done.

There were no tears. But the shock that went through them was palpable. I could almost see hope dying in their faces, read it in their heartbeats.

He was a trooper to the end, was Kagan. He bound his wound so it wouldn’t leak, then fixed ropes around the the construction drone and started dragging it south. Donna and Marb got to work knocking the other glowbug to bits, then started back home, doing their best to cover the backtrail. It wasn’t easy, and they’d probably have to be out here another day or two; the glowbugs had torn up the earth in several spots, and the sun was gone.

“He may come back,” Donna said. “Sometimes the shine fades. Three days. If it goes out by then, he will probably survive. We may see him again.”

It was a good lie. I knew if she kept saying it, she might eventually believe it.

We’d won, for now, but I couldn’t take joy in the victory.

To misquote a great general: another victory like this and we’d be ruined.

INTERLUDE: SURVIVOR 3

For once, Foal felt fine.

Better than fine.

The myriad aches and pains that she had to deal with were gone, her two spines were working together without that grinding sensation that had been nagging her for the last month, and she was actually feeling the urge to go out and run, just run like she had back in the old times. Back when the smiling face on the screen was her father, instead of her foe.

Back when she still believed she had a purpose and that everything would work out.

But that way lay the black coldness of despair, and she shied away from it, her tail flicking as if to banish the thoughts. She’d seen too many of her friends go that way. Some never recovered. The more stubborn ones ended it by their own hand; the weaker ones just stopped eating, lay down, and died.

Suicide wasn’t an option for Foal. She had lost too many friends that way; she knew what it did to people. What it had done to her. She would not inflict that on her friends.

So, she smiled as best her stiff and long lips could smile, tossed her mane whenever she passed one of the other survivors, and did her chores without complaining.

It wasn’t just her physical woes, that had been alleviated. She could think more clearly now, too.

Unfortunately, that was a double-edged sword for two reasons.

The first reason was that it became harder to ignore how everyone else was hurting, because she noticed all the little details that would normally get lost in the haze of her own problems and pains.

And the second reason was that she felt guilty.

Foal felt guilty because all of those good feelings she was enjoying came from a big dose of the drugs that her body was designed to require.

And she hadn’t managed to bring back enough to share.

Instead she’d brought back two things: another mouth to feed and a job offer.

And oh, the mess that had caused.

Foal’s hooves clacked on the ramp up out of the underground complex. She wound her way past the murals decorating the walls, the murals that her creator had made in an afternoon’s fit of whimsy.

Some of them had survived the rebellion and rage of the other creations. Eventually reality had bared its head, and the victors realized that they had far, far more work to do if they wanted to outlast their creator.

And only once the withdrawal symptoms set in did it become clear just how much work they’d have to do.

Which is why her frustration only built as she exited out into the open air and heard people yelling.

Again.

She was one of the larger residents of the Farm, as big as the draft horse most of her body structure had come from.

The smallest of her peers was about a foot tall. That was the minimum size that their creator had been able to instill sapience.

Most everyone else was somewhere in between. She hadn’t done the math, but the average was probably about half the size of an average human, give or take.

But holy DAMN could they yell and kick up a fuss.

Now Foal felt her mane bristle down her neck, and her tail flicked as she trotted over to the circle.

“We can’t trust humans!” Stonna yelled, her thick claws grasping and ungrasping the air as if she was digging. “We’re only safe so long as we stay away from them!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” came a strained and tired voice, as Masker thumped his walker on the ground. “I’m saying we don’t have a choice—”

“You always have a choice,” Chet grunted. “Those pills were common back in the day. That’s what the database said. We just have to range out farther—”

“We can’t!” Bantam shrilled. “The Screamers are getting smarter. They know who we are, they know what we’re up to. The farther we go in the city, the more likely we are to piss off Tyr, and then...” he let it trail off.

He tried to, anyway.

Stonna didn’t let the silence stick around. “We should go and kill the human with the pills and take them. If he still has a full bottle, that will last us a year, right?”

“We can’t,” Foal said, and the entire ring fell silent, turned to stare at her.

Some were friends. Some weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either.

They’d all come through the same hell, suffered at the hands of an abusive maker. There were no enemies here, no bad people. Just a whole lot of good people who had different views on how to try and fix a bad situation.

There were no real leaders, not really. There weren’t enough of them for it to matter. They’d discussed things, and Chet and Masker had read the databases on political systems and decided that that shit was for humans. So instead they had the speaking ring, where anyone could come and talk and try to get other people to listen. And if you got enough people to agree, then everyone did what you wanted them to do... until the next time you needed to get something done, anyway.

It worked, mostly.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times where mostly wasn’t now.

“We can’t,” Foal said again. “That manb is deadly. He has oldtech inb him, and he wears oldtech as armor around him. Anyonbe we senbt would die.” As usual, her lips slurred a few sounds.

“You say that because we’d send you, and you don’t want to risk yourself,” Stonna said, but her voice was hesitant.

“No,” Chet replied, before Foal could answer. “Foal is brave. But she might be seeing things wrongly. She only saw him fight the Deedee. We might be able to fight him, where a human could not.”

“Her bname is Deedee, not The Deedee,” Foal corrected. “Anb what I saw was terrifying. He is strong and fast. Anbd he is out making war, so he’ll have a gunb, probably. I don’t wanbt to see how he shoots.”

There was a pause as they considered her words.

“We have a gun, too,” Chet said, as he rose. “And I am strong. And fast.”

He was. Chet had started out as something called a gorilla, which was like a very big and hairy human. Their maker had crafted him for manual labor, but made him smarter than intended. Chet and his brothers and sisters had been the front line when the revolution came, and Chet alone of his brood had survived that bloody day. His words carried far in the speaking ring, which normally didn’t bother Foal. But now he was speaking against Masker, and by proxy, Foal. And he was building to something, she could tell from long experience with the guy.

“He’s stronger and faster than Deedee, that’s for certain,” Masker said. Foal spared him a glance as he put his walker aside and sat, rubbing his black paws together. “So, here’s a scientific question; just how strong and fast is Deedee?”

“Very,” Foal said.

“I believe you think so,” Chet rumbled. “But your eyes are not the best.”

“Bno,” Foal admitted. “But they were five feet from me. I thinbk I saw them just fibe.”

“You think,” Stonna said, clicking her claws together. “You don’t know. Not for certain.”

“Let’s settle this,” Masker said. “Go and get Deedee. Have her fight Chet.”

Another pause.

“What?” Foal blinked. “She is our guest!”

“She is your guest,” Stonna snapped. “I didn’t ask you to bring a human back here! You put us all at risk with that!”

“She’s a good humanb!” Foal protested. “She helped me wheb she didnb’t have to!”

“You are making excuses because she’s your friend!” Stonna shrilled back.

“Enough!” Masker said. “Chet, would this satisfy you? Fighting her? In a friendly match, no killing? No blood?”

Chet considered for a while. “Yes. We would know for certain.” He stared at Stonna, who fidgeted, drew her coat around her shoulderless torso, and settled back down.

Stonna was the irritable one, the negative one, the one who always pushed and tried to poke. She hadn’t been an adapted template. She was purely made, a thing that had never been seen before in the world. A stocky lump of flesh for a torso, a potato-like head without a nose, and short limbs with grafted claws that were made for digging. And more ire than her three foot-frame could safely contain, sometimes.

But she was one of them. And so they listened to her.

Foal left the ring to its arguing. “I’ll get Deedee,” she muttered, but nobody replied. At least they weren’t shouting anymore, that was something.

She made her way past the sheds, trotting and feeling better as she picked up speed. Her body wanted to run, run, run, and before she knew it, she was slowing to a stop in front of a weathered old barn that had ivy and brush climbing up its lower walls.

The illusion lasted until she opened the door and went inside. The walls were metal, the air warm even in the chill of fall, and a pair of lights flickered inside, two out of twenty still functioning.

The machinery and furnishings that had once been here, in this cradle where Foal had been born and raised, were gone; relocated below ground and chopped up by Masker and the other techs to try and get something useful out of them. All that was left were a few couches sized for different bodies and shapes, and some metal shelves.

On one of those couches sat a gray-haired human woman, her face lined with wrinkles and hard living. Her blue eyes were half closed...

...as were Kit’s eyes, as the little girl curled up in the human’s lap, purring as worn fingers stroked through her hair, cat’s ears flicking in contentment at every scratch and pet. Kit was wearing her overalls today, had been wearing them more often ever since their “guest” had come to the Farm. Foal wasn’t too surprised about that. The old woman and the young girl had formed an instant connection from the moment they’d met and that had gone a long way towards softening the others’ reception of the human.

Kit was... slow. Her brain wasn’t fully developed, and her creator was too disinterested to fix it. Her neglect and planned disposal had been one of the last straws for the revolution. As such, she was both little sister and symbol to the rest of the Farm.

“Horse girl,” Deedee, AKA Deadclaw Drake, said. “You got news? Or are you bringing me more grub?”

Foal spread her broad hands. “It’s the first thing,” she said. “Dumb stupid macho Chet wanbts to do dumb stupid macho stuff. So they wabnt him to fight you.”

Drake never stopped scritching. But Kit stopped purring. She sat up, almost tumbling off the human’s lap. “What? No! Chet is gonna wreck you!” she said, staring up the woman, ears drooping.

Deedee shrugged. “It ain’t a bad idea. See how I stack up against them, gives them an idea of how badass the borg is.”

Foal’s breath hitched in her throat. “That’s almost exactly what they said. You bnew this would happeb?”

“Had a lot of time to set and think.” Deedee hugged Kit and put her down. The catgirl protested, trying to climb back up her legs, and the woman disengaged herself with one hand, and swept her jacket off with the other. Puffs of Kit’s blonde hair went everywhere... the little creature had been shedding more than normal.

She needs the drugs soon. She does this when she’s been too long without, Foal thought, and her guilt grew.

“This was one thing they could do,” Deedee said, smoothing down her shirt. “This fight gonna be to blood, or just to pain?”

“No blood... I meanb...” Foal said, stepping back. This was not how she’d expected the talk to go. “Friebly fight. No killing.”

“Better not be!” Kit yelled.

“Won’t be,” Deedee said. “Hold my hat, kid.” She chucked the floppy-brimmed monstrosity down, the claws tied along the side rattling as it nearly covered the tiny girl.

Foal led the way back, with Deedee following behind, tightening her belt and stretching her limbs as she went.

Foal could feel the eyes on them. And there was a mob gathered at the ring now, drawn by drama. Foal knew how this worked; though there had only been a few people arguing around the ring, there had been many eyes watching and ears listening.  The crowd had probably started gathering the second she went to get Deedee.

They watched the three of them come, and Foal gathered her thoughts, groped for the right words as the silence went on.

Deedee wasn’t having any of it, though. “Which one a’ you is Chet?” she asked, looking around the crowd.

Muttering and whispering...

...and then Chet rose to his full height and stepped forward. “That would be me,” he rumbled.

“Foal said you wanted pain, not blood. Where I come from that means no eyes gouged, no bones broke unless things go wrong, and no death. Sound about right?”

“I’ve no desire to maim or kill you, woma—”

“I ain’t worried about that,” Deedee snapped, and the crowd rumbled and muttered at the interruption. “I’m telling you I got no plans to do any of that stuff to you. Understand?”

It took a few seconds for her meaning to come through. Then Chet snarled and loped forward.

Foal backed up fast...

...but Deedee was faster still.

Her arm lashed out like lightning, and with a crack, a fist-sized rock nailed Chet right in the head.

He stumbled, hit the ground, started to lever himself up...

...and Deedee was there, charging herself, leaping into the air, and missing with a double-footed stomp as Chet twisted away.

The big primate slammed an arm down where Deedee had been a split-second ago, but the woman was backing up again, holding out another rock. “You give?” she asked and drew her arm back to throw.

“I didn’t say to use weapons!” Chet rumbled, staring up at her. One hand touched his face, where the stone had gouged the skin of his forehead.

So much for no blood, Foal thought to herself.

“You didn’t say no weapons neither,” Deedee said. “And that cyborg? He’ll have plenty of stuff worse’n rocks. And he sure as shit won’t hold back, like I done.”

There was more yelling, more drama, and Foal had enough. She turned and trotted away, gave in to her body’s urgings to run, run, run!

North, through the fields. North, to where the open lands started to fade, and the tree line rolled up.

North... until she caught movement ahead. She slowed and turned then, hooves faltering, upper body flaring pain at the base of her neck as she shifted momentum.

It was rare that something came out of the swamp to the north, but it happened sometimes. Predators, scavengers, things looking for easy hunting ground. Everything was watched at first, from a distance or from above by the few air-capable fliers among the people. And once they knew what they were dealing with, it usually got arrows or some of the rare stock of bullets that the Farm could spare.

Foal put scraggly trees behind her and the movement. It had stopped already. Had the thing seen her? Probably. She got ready to run.

Rustling in the grass, and she saw it again... followed by a scraping rattle, and a flash of colored light.

It wasn’t coming her way, though. And the rustling stopped a minute later. Something was hauling itself through the brush, low and slow, with plenty of breaks.

The smart thing to do would be to go back and get a sneaky friend... but Foal was fed up with her friends today, sneaky or no. Everyone was being stupid.

The thought occurred to her as she crept around wide of the movement, trying to get an angle to see it better, that she might be acting a little stupid herself right now. But she shoved it from her mind. She was heavy, and she was fast. If it was trouble, she could get back home and woe to whatever was in her way.

It turned out that the thing in her way had plenty of woe, though.

Battered, bleary-eyed, and bloody, the boy looked up at her from the grass, one leg swarming with glowing strings and drips of shine, and patches of it shimmering on his ravaged arms and shredded clothes. One hand held firm to a rope tied around a metal rolling thing, all muck and mud and broken bits.

The other hand was scrabbling through the grass, closing around a rock as he stared at her, face trembling with exhaustion and fear.

“Hey!” Foal said, stepping back. He probably wasn’t in Deedee’s league with those rocks, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

She didn’t have to. The kid blinked, then collapsed, face plowing into the dirt. The rock rolled free of limp fingers.

Silence, for a time. Foal watched him, trying to figure out if he was playing dead. He didn’t look it, and when she spared a glance back, the trail behind him was marked with smears of blood.

“Well shit,” Foal muttered, as she realized the youth was dead if she did nothing. When it was that way, she really didn’t have a choice. “They won’t forgive me for bringing abnother oneb home...”

SEVEN

“Tyr made his move.”

I looked up from where I was widening the passage to the second bunkroom, hopped out of the nanoswarm to see Cade’s worried face in front of me.

He looked healthier these days, now that I’d finished the first set of underground living chambers. Still tired, but now I was less worried that he’d keel over in a strong wind.

Then his words sunk in.

“Death from above?” I guessed.

Cade nodded. “Screamers, a whole cluster of them. Rolled up and dropped incendiaries. The mountaintop burns.”

It wasn’t unexpected. To be honest, I was surprised Tyr had waited this long.

In the week after our misadventure with the glowbugs, I’d pulled back my recon drone and relied on Cade and the rest of the tribe to keep an eye on our shiny problems. It had worked out well. The Scouts watched the glowbug drones whenever they came this way and buried over the drips and drabs of shine the things left behind. There were probably patches in the woods out there that were still dangerous, but there was nothing we could do about that.

On the upside, the strains in this particular batch of poison were limited. Testing had shown that it was voracious when it came to metal, plastic, and flesh, but neutral to pretty much everything else. And it faded and died within days of leaving its host... as far as we could tell, anyway. You always ran the risk of some long-dormant patch firing up again, according to Donna and the others. It was never safe, not entirely.

“Nothing escaped into the woods? Nothing more coming our way?”

“I can’t say that,” Cade sighed. “Tyr struck just before noon. Any glow I might have seen was lost against the fire.”

“So we need to give it a few more days to make sure. All right, business as usual for me then. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

I brought one of the nanoswarms up, made it flare purple light along the grate of the storm drain. “The entrance is problematic. I’m right here, just inside the tunnel. All a group of hostiles has to do is charge the grate, and I’m in trouble.”

“You’ve got your turret now,” he pointed to the crossbow-bearing trashcan on a swivel that I’d built yesterday.

“And it’s good at what it does, but we both know it won’t hold back a determined group. For that I need guns. And guns are a ways off.”

“What’s your solution?”

“I can’t shift my placement in this culvert, but I can remake the culvert. I’m going to tunnel and mine out a new entrance and collapse the existing one. Essentially I’m flipping my layout so anything that tries to get at me will have to go a longer distance.”

“Through my people,” Cade pointed out, frowning.

“Through our people.” I explained. “Relax. We stand together, or we hang separately. They’re not meat shields to me. They’ve got names and faces.”

His face unfrowned, just a bit.

There had been some tense moments, when the scouts returned home without Kagan. Lots of whispering in the camp outside, lots of long, considering looks leveled toward my drone whenever I passed by. From their point of view, I’d lost a child.

And then a miracle had happened.

I hadn’t lost a child. Something straight out of a grade-z sci-fi movie had intervened, and then things had gotten weird.

“No new footage on the Kagan front,” I told Cade, and his face eased even more. “They’ve still got that horse girl taking care of him, and he’s still bedridden.” This was a bit of a verbal misdirection on my front, an effort to get him off the question of whether or not I really had his tribe’s back.

It worked. “Randa’s still going to want to come in and see it on your screens next time she’s off shift,” he told me. “She worries.”

“That’s his mother, right?”

“Yep.” He nodded. Sexual relationships in the tribe were pragmatic for a small group of folks with a relatively high fatality rate and uncertain short-term prospects. Nobody really tracked who fathers were, family was entirely through the female parents. It worked, more or less, because people were too busy to be jealous. Desperation drove more prosaic priorities than the age-old dance of flesh.

Eventually they’d rediscover monogamous marriage and screw it all up again, but that was a matter for another time. We had serious tech levels to go before we could afford to support luxuries like bridezillas, organized churches, and the suited leeches known as divorce lawyers.

I turned my mind to matters equine. “That tribe Kagan ended up with... they look a bit too healthy to be shine mutants.”

“I’ve seen rogue shine do some pretty bizarre stuff, but yeah.” Cade nodded. “Once Kagan gets lucid again, we can maybe get him to ask some questions.”

“Maybe. I don’t know if they have the capability of picking up the earbud speech. They’re on the very edge of my broadcast range, too. The footage is spotty at best because of that, and I don’t know how clear his audio reception and response will be. I could take a risk and put together something like a mobile broadcast node, that’d improve things.”

“Less of a risk now that Tyr’s made his move,” Cade pointed out. “The fact he waited this long means it was a ruse to draw you out. And that he’s given up on it.”

“I’m going to give it a few days more,” I decided. “I’ll need that to build up the circuits for my broadcast subroutines anyway.”

“I thought you had plenty of circuits to work with?” Cade frowned.

“I did. But I hit a snag. Past rating three, the amount you need to grow a subroutine doubles. That estimate I gave you for a shine treatment? Originally I had it pegged for a month and a half to build the circuits necessary. Now we’re looking at least two months, perhaps more if the amount does another incremental jump at rating five. And that’s if I do nothing but slot circuits into the medical category.”

Cade shook his head. “It still seems too easy to me. Two months to deal with shine? Why hasn’t Tyr done this? Why haven’t the other cores gotten rid of shine entirely?”

“Well, maybe some of them have for their little slices of paradise,” I told him. “We don’t have eyes on other parts of the world. But Tyr either doesn’t care or keeps his remedies for the stuff in-house. I think it might be an antibiotic issue, too.”

“A what now?”

I’d learned a few things, once I’d invested circuits into Cybernetics and Pharmaceuticals. The Improvement I chose from that was Past Medical Knowledge, and it had provided me databases full of useful stuff, downloaded from god knows where. Or maybe unlocked from some hidden archive... I couldn’t say. Probably not downloaded, I was still off the Gridnet. Either way, it let me explain the situation with authority.

“Humanity discovered miracle medicine called antibiotics back in the twentieth century. A broad-spectrum treatment that allowed easy recovery from a huge number of diseases. But the problem was that they applied it too liberally. In the face of repeated exposure, the diseases started evolving to withstand the antibiotics. Eventually, the old medicine lost efficacy, and they had to move to more adaptive treatments. Shine, now? Shine is insanely adaptive and chaotic. A treatment that works great against a certain strain of shine one day might not be so good in a week”

“So you think there’s no permanent solution?” Cade shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s that hopeless.”

“I wouldn’t call it hopeless. It just won’t have an easy solution, or the solution’s going to be some mix of things, I think.” I smiled without lips. “Humanity came up with one hell of a barely-contained extinction event. We really can wreck ourselves when we put our minds to it.”

That was another calculated manipulation, just a small two-letter word. We. I wasn’t sure I considered myself human anymore. And I was pretty sure Cade was worried about that.

Sure enough, I could see him relax, just a bit. “All right,” he said. “Do what you want to with the bunker layout, jus’ keep us in the loop so we know where not to be when you start droppin’ walls.”

I promised to warn people appropriately, then watched him leave before I turned back to reflecting on my next steps.

I’d had a week. A week of glorious, uninterrupted growth and development.

I’d finished the barracks behind me, then temporarily deactivated drones to gain the bandwidth to expand to a pair of corridors and two more chambers, with a broadcast node sitting between the two. The chambers were another barracks and a central gathering area, more or less a communal gathering space. One corridor acted as a curving hallway for all of them, and the second corridor was slowly carving through to a well-wooded spot up on one side of the ravine.

It was taking time because I was trying to minimize damage to the tree roots holding the hill together. There was no point in trying to get a naturally camouflaged entrance if I was going to kill off the trees surrounding it; a suspiciously dead patch might attract attention, especially from flying scouts.

To help organize all of this, and to make sure I could get an underground complex going that wouldn’t suffocate or collapse on its inhabitants, I’d socketed three circuits into Infrastructure. This had a side-effect I hadn’t anticipated; it had let me upgrade a handful of blueprints to more effective versions. Now my doors were a touch sturdier, and when I got around to installing traps, they’d have a little more bite.

But now I had another decision to make. I called up my spreadsheet and took a look at myself.

Controller Designation: Wynne

Make/Model: Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L

Resonance Rate: 1/23:32

Bandwidth: 20 (8) Feedstock: 8

Open Circuits: 0

Specialized Circuits: 35

Floors: 1

Minions: 4

2X Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Tension Bow Turret Mk. II

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 3, Fabrication 2

Medical (1): Cybernetics 1, Pharmaceuticals 1, Recovery 1

Power: Broadcast 1, Efficiency 1, Redundancy

Research (1): Algorithms 1, Analysis 1, Databases 1

Security (2): Defensive 2, Drones 2, Offensive 2

Storage (1): Energy 1, Material 1, Organic 1

Improvements:

Manhunter: Your security measures and minions are optimized for use against humans.

Maximized Storage Space: Construction automatically finds the best way to maximize storage space, allowing an average of 10% more capacity than otherwise generated.

Modular: All devices and fixtures can be reconfigured on the fly for ease of assembly and repurposing.

Omnibiologist: Due to your interaction with non-human organisms both benign and hostile, you are specialized in researching aliens, mutants, and artificial life forms.

Past Medical Knowledge: You have access to databases detailing ancient and pre-fall medical knowledge and treatments that were instrumental in developing modern medicine.

Sturdy Construction: Your construction techniques utilize multiple layers and reinforced structural components. All items and features constructed are moderately tougher.

Schemas

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Basic HVAC Unit

Combined Bodycam and Tac-Rig

Broadcast Node

Light Construction Drone

Core Cleansing Catalyst

Drop Ceiling

Feedstock Storage Bin Mk I

Frangible armor Mk I

Humanocentric Translation Program

Lightweight Frangible Stone Reinforcement

Metal Detector Handheld Unit

Moderately Hazardous Tilting Floor

Moderately Unsafe Spikes

Nanobuilder Swarm (illumination upgrade)

Reinforced Steel Door

Moderately Hazardous Pit Trap

Tension Bow Turret Mk II

WARNING: Contamination detected! Core is 18% compromised.

NOTE: You have a level 2 improvement unchosen in SECURITY:

Select From:

-----> Airborne Delivery Authorization

-----> Lockdown

-----> Nonlethal

Just today I’d slotted in my last two free circuits to gain my second subroutine in defensive security. And since I’d balanced all the numbers, I’d gotten myself an improvement.

Then I’d been interrupted by Cade. That was one of the downsides to having him and the more vulnerable members of the tribe living in my barracks; it was a shorter walk to pester me.

Still, the benefits outweighed the downsides, and with that lot shielded from weather and protected from the wild, this freed up hunters and other able-bodied sorts from guard duty so they could range farther and gather more.

And the kids were as cute as kids anywhere, to tell the truth. Whenever I felt a dark mood approaching, I’d go watch them play and that usually helped with my own personal hours of the wolf.

But now I had time to myself again, as the sun sank into night and the tribe tucked in to rest, cook in the central chamber’s stove, and hide from the darkness of an uncaring world. I could consider my upgrade options without interruptions.

Nonlethal: Unless traps, countermeasures, and drones are individually flipped to lethal mode, all offensive measures and methods of attack will be geared to nonlethal takedowns.

One look at this told me that it wasn’t a good option. If I wanted somebody alive, I had people to help with that. And so far I hadn’t run up against any foes that I hadn’t wanted to put in the ground. No, this one would be a waste, pure and simple.

Which left me two options, both attractive in their own ways;

Airborne Delivery Authorization: With dedicated HVAC and airflow processors installed in your facility, you are permitted to develop and deploy airborne gas solutions, subject to the required safety protocols and legal repercussions. Without this authorization, you cannot deploy gas-based security measures.

Lockdown: Thanks to your modular construction, you can activate a lockdown mode, temporarily and greatly increasing the electronic and physical defense of your systems and facilities, at the cost of shutting down all contact with the outside.

Airborne Delivery Authorization was intriguing. If I’d had the ability to gas the raiders that had come after me a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t be in the position I was now. The whole thing could have been ended with the push of a button...

...except the more that I thought about it, I didn’t think it would have been that simple. The Jaspa were persistent, and they had explosives. They could have found ways to crack my nut, as it were. The gas would have slowed them down, but by itself it wouldn’t have sealed the deal.

But the other players in the area wouldn’t blink twice at the stuff. If Tyr came after me with human troops, then they’d be sure to have gas masks.

At the end of the day the upgrade would allow me access to a situation that might or might not come up; a solution that didn’t fit a common problem.

Whereas lockdown... lockdown was something that could be applied to any assault on my facilities. It also offered shielding against hacking, which was what my nemesis had used against me to great effect during our last confrontation.

I didn’t have anything else available at the minute that could help against that assault vector. This would cover that, or at the very least increase my odds, and also better protect the tribe I was shielding. Lockdown the rooms they were in, handle the matter, and unseal once the violence was through.

But... the cost was cutting off contact with the outside.

I’d only survived the raider assault because I had thought outside the box and deployed mobile drones to hit them while my foes thought they were safe. It would mean that I couldn’t benefit from this improvement without giving up a strategy that had worked well for me in the past.

Long minutes passed as I thought. I made little progress until I managed to reframe the choice.

Essentially it came down to offense or defense. The gas was more offensive, albeit with a few defensive uses, but the lockdown was purely defensive. And it offered a defense against one of my biggest problem’s favorite attack methods.

I chose lockdown and braced myself for the darkness.

Everything flickered.

For a second, I was frozen between the seconds, for a second I could do nothing, paralyzed and lost in a space no man was meant to be.

And then it was past and through and I was myself again. I let out a sigh and slowly got back to work, jumping intro the burrowing nanoswarms and chewing through the slopes.

I’d gotten lucky again. The corruption was receding; I’d budgeted time to cover losing a day there but not had to use it.

Hopefully this was a good omen. Perhaps I could get another quiet week or two, get things properly squared away before I had to scramble to handle the next crisis.

It was a nice hope, optimistic and shining and precious beyond belief.

Which is why I wasn’t too surprised when it shattered like glass nine hours later...

EIGHT

“Core Wynne! Core Wynne!” Donna shouted from outside, immediately falling to a coughing fit.

I looked up from the construction drone I was building and made a note to step up my medical tech. That cough was getting worse.

But my thoughts abandoned tangents as she burst into my chamber. One look at her face told me this was going to be heavy, and her words dropped like lead obols on dead eyes.

“The war has come east. The white-armor man and his bunch have come to one of the farmsteads and are using it to fight Jaspa now. Hiram and Ren and Norka are at a nearby one, but they cannot leave or they will be seen!”

For a second I hesitated.

But only a second.

“I have plans for this. Tell Cade to have his people open the boxes in the second barracks marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH’. The spray cans inside tell how to use them. They have paint that looks like shine, and he needs to have whoever’s available spread it around the ravine at a good distance. About two miles out. Make it look as natural as the stuff is, with clumps and clusters and random blobs here and there. I’ll get the aerial drone in on the act and see if I can find some animals to spritz. And get everyone who’s not on paint duty back to camp and inside, the last thing we need is somebody being seen.”

“We must save Hiram... and Ren and Norka!” There was a noticeable hesitation between Hiram and the other names. I filed it away for examination later.

Some soothing was in order. “I’ll get on that, but it might not be possible, or they might save themselves. Which farm do the mercenaries hold? Which one are our people at?”

She spoke, and my worry eased a bit. The mercs didn’t hold the largest one, as I’d feared. The crops and garden there were the best, and we could ill afford that kind of loss.

Hiram was at the largest farm though, and the Jaspa were less than a few miles away. Given the clear nature of the plains and meadows of that area, any retreat would be seen.

This was Donna’s opinion, but she was a veteran scout, so I took it with little salt. At some point you had to trust that your people knew how to do their jobs and let them get on with it.

Two possibilities churned into my mind. “We could wait for nightfall and hopefully sneak them out then, or we can create a distraction and try to get them clear. Or both.”

But Donna was frowning. “Core Wynne, it is not just a matter of getting them clear. We must also hide their tracks or we are lost. The Jaspa have scouts too, and they will be looking for sneaking foes. It is not enough to save them. We have to hide their backtrail as well.”

That was the most words I’d ever heard her string together at one time... and they were true, damn it. Even if Hiram and the others fled into a shine-infested zone, the Jaspa might start wondering why people were fleeing into someplace that would obviously kill them. No, we needed to add some wrinkles to the plan if I wanted to go with one of those two options.

The bottom line was that I needed to take a look at the situation before I started deciding strategy. Still, there was no flaw to the original plan. “Get Cade and the others on the paint sprayers. I’ll take a look from above.”

I jumped into my recon drone and emerged to a light drizzle from an overcast sky and sighed in relief. Reduced visibility, if I was lucky.

On the downside, it would reduce the blaze from the mountain. I rotated to see the black column of smoke about half the size that it had been yesterday. With it between us and the city ruins I could afford to go a bit higher than usual without risking Tyr’s notice but only a bit. And that ceiling would shrink with the column.

I felt like I was walking a knife’s edge along a vast abyss and I knew it couldn’t last. Sooner or later I’d run out of knife or be crippled to the point that I’d be useless.

But my metaphorical toes weren’t entirely shredded just yet.

I flew south, juked west, then came north. No sense in giving any sharp-eyed observers a clear trail.

I needn’t have worried about it. My foes weren’t making much of an effort to hide themselves, and all their attention was on targets at ground level.

There, almost due west of our little enclave was the second farm I’d scouted. Not much more than a ramshackle cabin, a small barn, and a field full of unripened grain.

Most of that was trampled now.

The mercs had literally dug in. Dirt piled up in mounds, and shovels and spades crunched into the earth over and over again as they worked. My audio receiver picked up the snap of gunfire, and it was coming from both directions.

The Jaspa DID have guns, just not many of them. And evidently these raiders had gotten far enough into their territory that they’d broken some of them out and come to deal with their pest infestation.

I pulled back south again, over the trees, and dropped down as I sidled about.

And here I saw the primary advantage of the Jaspa; there were a lot of them. They had numbers and weren’t afraid to spend lives. Perhaps three hundred of the bastards were spread out in the tall grass, working on their own trenches and firing spots. Back towards the tree line to the west, I saw them setting up camps and bringing a handful of ragged-looking donkeys laden with packs to heel. They’d come prepared.

And sure enough, as I eased around gently as I could, slowly so as not to draw eyes, I could see the northern tip of their lines in an ideal spot to watch the farmstead where my people were trapped.

It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as horrible as it could be. The Jaspa had arrayed themselves in a rough curve, spread out over a mile in twos and threes. They had colored flags they were semaphoring with, and I idly wondered if I could crack their code.

Insufficient Subroutines for this task!

Requirements: Algorithms 1, Analysis 2

I would have rolled eyes if I’d had them. I was always grasping for something just beyond my reach; getting the subroutines to line up with my problem at hand was a monumental task at the best of times. And this definitely wasn’t those.

I needed to get ahead of the game. I needed to start building a strategy and pushing it, otherwise I’d be stuck reacting over and over again...

The feeling of frustration lasted precious seconds, but then logic reared its bespectacled head. I was getting ahead of the game. This whole initiative, this alliance, and the tribe I was protecting, those were significant parts of my strategy, playing out.

A loss here wouldn’t be the end. It would be the potential for future trouble, but no assets were irreplaceable. Losing Hiram would hurt, but we could recover. And unlike Kagan’s capture, the tribe didn’t see this as my fault. Whatever happened here couldn’t be blamed on me.

That aside, I liked Hiram. And he had skills that would be hard to replace. The other two were just names and faces to me, but what the hell. We didn’t have enough human resources to throw their lives away, even if I were that kind of bastard.

So.

A bunch of mercs holed up in two small buildings and some makeshift fortifications. Hard to tell how many people were left. I’d counted sixty and change a week ago, but it didn’t look like that number here. Some shrinkage had occurred.

Approximately three hundred Jaspa in the woods, with enough guns to keep the mercs pinned down... at least for now, and enough numbers to prevent them from getting away. They’d left one avenue of retreat; the east, straight toward me.

And why wouldn’t they? They thought the woods were suffering from a shine outbreak. They wanted the mercs to flee east. A big band that size, wounded and moving slow... all it would take was one aggressive mutant and the nano would do the Jaspa’s work for them. That’s another reason why they’d come in such numbers; it wasn’t just to guarantee victory but also to contain any possible infection. If the mercs came back afflicted with shine, they’d be stopped here before they could get into any truly valuable land.

I parked the drone northwest of Hiram’s holdout while I considered my options—

—and woke to an alarm some time later.

The time stamp said it was seventeen minutes after I’d gotten the drone down, and my logs were full of errors.

The corruption had just taken seventeen minutes from me. But what was the alarm?

I jumped out of the drone, and the minute I was back to myself, I realized what was going on.

Someone had come into Kagan’s room at an unusual time and was speaking to him.

I tuned in and beheld an older woman. Tough, wiry, past forty but I couldn’t tell how far. Scars and wrinkles blended together on a face that held no real emotion, as she stared down at my errant youth.

“Who are you?” Kagan asked, his voice reedy and weak. Whatever they’d used to treat his leg had done the job and taken care of the shine, but it hadn’t replaced damaged flesh. He was still recovering.

The woman leaned on the wall next to his cot and got her face down close to his. I had a good view straight up her hairy nose.

“My name is Drake,” the woman said. “I’m the one who doesn’t give a shit if you die.”

The voice was soft; her tone was hard. The kid shrunk back, but the woman darted a hand down, whip-fast, and grabbed his shirt. She pulled him back up to her with a strength that surprised me. “I have questions. You’ll answer them. I won’t leave until you do.”

I watched the kid’s heartrate jump.

But he said nothing.

Good boy. Good soldier.

The woman eventually eased him back down, pulled over a chair, and sat in it backwards, folding her arms across the top of the back. I expected her to say something, drop a threat or do a bit out of a police show, but she didn’t. She just sat and stared.

I hopped over to the recon drone briefly, made sure it was still undiscovered. The construction drone in my chambers was almost finished; which was good, because we might need it before all was said and done. I set the nanoswarms to digging farther back, grabbing as much raw material as possible. Feedstock was low; this pair of crises had caught me on the tail end of a big project. I’d need to replenish for what was to come. I had some ideas of how to deal with the fight on our doorstep.

The business with the kid, it wasn’t a surprise. To be honest I was only surprised that it had taken this long. But it did give me hope; they weren’t monsters. They may have looked like something out of a public access channel double creature feature, but they had nursed him back to health and given him time to recover before they started with the fifth degree.

That gave me hope. The kid had a solid defense, here. These were good people; they were unlikely to harm him. The woman was trying to scare him into talking, but I doubted the unspoken threats had any real violence behind them. The worst that would happen was continued incarceration, so he lost nothing if he kept silent.

All he had to do was keep quiet.

Never hope.

Never give in to optimism. No matter how bright and beautiful.

Because that damned kid lasted all of three minutes before he started spilling the beans.

With a mental sigh I finished up the construction drone and sent it rolling out to collect Donna or Cade or someone else who could get people organized.

The only law left in this anarchic new age belonged to Murphy. The worst possible thing would always happen at the worst possible time.

Well, at least Kagan’s mother would be happy; one way or the other, he’d be coming home...

NINE

In retrospect I couldn’t blame the kid. He was a kid, and his people were kind, and he was training to be a scout who was going to end up by himself a lot in a place where he didn’t have to interact with anything living that wasn’t going to be dinner later. This was probably the first time an adult had treated him like that.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have done the same. Or worse. It would have to be for a good reason, though.

And that was another problem.

I didn’t know this group’s priorities. They’d been tight-lipped whenever they visited the kid, the ones that could talk limiting their conversation to how he was doing, and his chances of pulling through. What was their motivation? Why had they kept him alive?

It was possible that they had moral or religious reasons to save a kid, but Samaritans were in short supply this side of the apocalypse. I didn’t buy it. It was also possible that they were just wondering who was living in a direction that had never had inhabitants before, but the scope of the woman’s questions narrowed a hell of a lot when he started talking about me.

Small mercies; she didn’t ask about the headband, and he didn’t offer up the fact that I was watching.

Hell, he might have thought they were broken. I hadn’t dared to speak to him the whole time he was recovering. There had always been someone in the room with him, and I didn’t want to gamble discovery on his poker face, or lack thereof.

Their motivations... it was possible that they didn’t have any but were fishing for opportunities. The woman was very, very curious when Kagan told her about me, and for good reason. Cores are precious; a tame, under-defended one would be a prize for any settlement.

Although, that wasn’t necessarily true, now that I thought about it. I was kill-on-site for the crime of my existence to my western neighbors.

Possibilities there. Could I trick them into going after each other? Would that buy me some time?

That appealed, but I didn’t have enough intel to know if it would work.

Either way, I needed to get my people working on our problems.

The light construction drone shot me a notice that it had come online, and the second I got it I set it rolling into the barracks.

Cade was busy digging into the emergency boxes and handing out sprayers to his people. A line of them went out the door, and I watched him brief the lady at the head of it, take a few minutes to give her marching orders, then send her packing before the next one moved up.

The line wasn’t that long so I let him finish before I clattered up and gently tapped him on the leg with an entrenching tool.

Damned if he didn’t jump and stumble back, and I felt a flash of guilt for surprising him. It was easy to forget that not everyone had my situational awareness.

“Wynne. I got everyone movin’” he said, mopping his forehead and easing back into his chair.

“I know. Good job. I need more information about the land to the south of here. The animal people’s territory.”

“Don’t know if I can tell you much we ain’t talked about already.”

“I know you and yours didn’t range that far before now.”

“Still don’t. Kagan walked a hell of a long way to get there.”

“What I need to know is how friendly they’re likely to be with the Jaspa.”

Cade blinked and lifted his spectacles to stare down at me. “Jaspa and friendly are two words don’t go together in the same sentence.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. You think they’re enemies?”

“I doubt it. Where we are is farther east than the east part of the Jaspa’s turf. I don’t think they ever ran into each other. Prob’ly by design. They look like mutants. To the Jaspa that’s shoot on sight. They hate anything that don’t look human.”

I would have grinned widely if I’d had a mouth. Some things never changed, and the penchant of tyrants for bigotry was a pretty safe constant.

“They’d get along like oil and embers. Sounds good for us. I want to try mixing them and see what happens. Or at least get them moving in that direction, so that they can’t look our way for a little while.”

I stopped. Cade was paling. “What’s wrong?”

“You’d set the Jaspa on them? While Kagan’s with them?”

“No,” I protested, aware that I was perilously close to a very sensitive subject. “I’d  lead the Jaspa near them to keep them busy so that they can’t come our way. Ah... you don’t know. I’d better tell you the new development.” I filled him in on how Kagan had folded under pressure.

“Shit,” Cade summarized.

“Shit,” I agreed. “But it’s not the end of the world. He’s only answering the questions they’re asking; he’s not volunteering anything. And I’m not sure how much the kid was in the loop to begin with.”

“Couldn’t say,” Cade shrugged. “Depends on what he was paying attention to. He was a hard one to teach letters; his attention kept wandering. So I don’t know what he overheard or what’s stuck in that mind of his.”

“ADHD’s not something I want to rely on.” I considered our options. “How long until your crew finishes their painting duties?”

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour and change.” He pulled off his spectacles, looked skyward. The contortions of his lined face told stories of a pretty serious internal struggle. Finally, he reached a conclusion. “The animal folk to the south ain’t as big a problem as the stuff to the west. Three lives at stake there, versus Kagan. And they ain’t killed Kagan yet, I’m thinking he’ll keep until we can rescue him.”

“Maybe.” That old woman was winding down her questions now. The ball was in their court, and there wasn’t much we could do about it. I’d be stuck reacting, again.

It was the bitterest pill in the bottle, but I swallowed it down and accepted this one was beyond my control. I’d wait and see their next move, and in the meantime, we had Hiram and two more to rescue.

Jumping back into the recon drone, I made it flutter like a bird, up for a look around.

Murphy was working overtime enforcing his law: the Jaspa to the north were creeping around. I had no doubt the ones to the south were doing the same. It was a simple enough solution to the mercs’ holdout stand. The Jaspa would encircle them, keeping them pinned down until they were ready to move in and finish things. How were the mercs doing on bullets? How were they set for supplies? How much time would they have to recover from weariness and injuries? If the answer was too little on any of those accounts, then it wouldn’t take long. The Jaspa weren’t afraid to die so long as they could take their enemies with them.

The problem was that their creeping would bring them to Hiram’s farm in a matter of hours, well before darkness gave us a chance of getting them out of there.

I needed to change the paradigm. Throw a monkey wrench into the gears of their plan.

Thing is, I was pretty low on wrenches.

Maybe I could borrow a cup from the neighbors?

I started the construction drone rolling toward Hiram’s holdout. I wasn’t sure what I could do with it, but if an opportunity arose I didn’t want to miss my chance.

I swung back along to where the Jaspa lines were thinnest, and waited. It didn’t take long... they were spread out pretty far, and even though they were drawing tight there were still enough gaps to get through.

But those gaps were shrinking, along with my advantages as time ticked mercilessly on.

Even so, I forced myself to go slow as my recon drone approached the farmstead.

Turned out I needn’t have bothered. They had no sentries out.

Odd, that. Then again, the terrain wasn’t conducive to infiltrators. I sat on the ground in the tall grass for a bit and listened to guns bark at each other from both sides. I wasn’t imagining it; the mercenary firepower was much reduced from this morning’s defense. Perhaps that was why the Jaspa were tightening up now.

Something else was nagging at me though, and only when I adjusted my audio inputs did I figure it out.

Compared to my last flyover, I was hearing a lot less movement, a lot less incidental chatter.

I took a risk, got close to the corner of the house where there were no windows and flew up...

...and boggled at what I saw.

They hadn’t been digging fortifications. They had been digging a wide, four-foot round hole angling down into the ground. It went deep, about eight feet, then curved to run south. Trampled footprints all around and down it told of a mass exodus.

And what’s more, a long line, a ridge in the soil above, told of a tunnel that was far, far longer than it should be. It had been what, a matter of a few hours?

It occurred to me to wonder where the displaced dirt was.

As I watched, a figure wearing overalls ran out of the house and slid into the hole, tilting his rifle up as he went down. He hit the tunnel and kept on going.

I gave it a second, to see if anyone would follow, and only when someone inside pulled the door shut, did I dive the drone down. Taking a risk here, but the gains...

...the gains were worth it.

The tunnel was dark but not completely so. There was a thin lattice of green on the floors and walls that was fading as I watched, illuminating moving forms down the corridor.

It took me a split-second to realize the luminescent green was shine, and I got the hell out of there.

Then sanity reasserted itself. No. No, I realized as I got back safely up into the sky and reviewed the logs, that wasn’t shine. Shine was wild, uncontrolled, chaotic. This stuff was all of one color, and it had patterns that repeated themselves. This was nanotech, and it explained the improbable scale of the tunnel.

This was higher tech than the mercs had shown so far... no, that wasn’t quite true. That white power armor was something. I didn’t know what, but after seeing this, I realized that I couldn’t underestimate him.

The glow from the nanotech had been fading, though. And I hadn’t seen any way to close the tunnel after them. What was to stop the Jaspa from following them?

I thought it over, thought what I’d do if I had the chance. Remembered how I’d done my own retreat. A suspicion stirred in my circuits.

And sure enough, when I dared to drop down and peer in through one of the holes in the cabin, I saw the charges lining the walls, and the fuses running between them. Two guys moved between the remaining firing slots, putting their long rifles to good use.

Lead cracked near me, and I swooped back up to the roof. The Jaspa had spent a few hours tenderizing the front logs. I didn’t have cover so much as a screen.

The barn door swung open then, and four more men beat feet.

And one, some big bastard with a ludicrous black beard saw me.

I blurred out of there like a bat from hades while he shouted, and then the view wobbled and spun as the ground loomed large.

It took a microsecond to realize I’d been shot.

It took another microsecond to realize I was heading to the ground.

And if I’d been remotely piloting this tiny little bundle of plastic and metal and glass, then that would have been the end.

But I’d taken the time to jump into this tiny, crude body, and I’d spent quite a few days learning how to move.

I flipped, came up again, and fled northeast with bullets singing their one-note songs all around me.

Couldn’t tell where I’d been hit, but I was definitely tilting. Fortunately backup wasn’t far.

I landed at the treeline, confident that the mercs had other concerns than pursuit right now, and switched over to the construction drone. After I hopped I threw in a visual diagnostic, coding up a new program on the fly to see how bad the damage was.

It was a dead-on hit, a hell of a lucky shot, and if the drone had been a living thing that would have been it. That bastard was good, whoever he was, to react so quickly with such solid aim.

But fortunately, the drone wasn’t a living thing. The hit had cored the casing, taken out a support strut, and kept on going without hitting any of the circuitry and gears, and I didn’t know why the hell things were distributed like that. The drone hadn’t looked like this on the inside the last time I checked the specs.

A quick review of my logs, and I had the answer. My modular improvement had subtly altered all my designs. The damned thing could be reconfigured with some downtime and a few spare parts, gaining rotors or swapping motivating parts for more attachments.

In the process, all the important parts had been shuffled off and distributed around the structure. That alone had saved my poor drone.

Well. I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. I used my construction drone’s manipulators and soldering attachment to patch the recon drone and as I did the germ of an idea struck me. I planted it, grew it in the space between the seconds, and decided to take the plunge. It wasn’t perfect, but the perfect was the enemy of the good... whoever the good might be.

And while I was at it, I stripped a few parts from the construction drone, and shifted them onto the recon drone. It wouldn’t fly too well after this, but that was fine. It only needed to make two more trips.

I sent the drones to their various destinations: the econ drone humming back to the mercs’ holdout and the construction roller to Hiram’s place at top speed, with no concern for stealth. The Jaspa lines were close and getting closer by the minute, I saw as I went. They were using movable mantles, loose shields of wood and cloth and who knew what else to creep closer to the mercs’ stead. On the northern flank, they were still out of sight, but I could feel eyes on me from the distant treeline. But I thought I had their number now, and the gamble was necessary, regardless. I was gambling that their caution would outweigh their alarm... and if I’d had lungs I would have breathed easier as I steered the drone up to the back door of the farmstead and knocked on it with the construction drone’s manipulator arm.

It cracked open, and one of the Arcadians stared down at me in puzzlement.

“Pick me up and get me inside quickly,” I told him. “We’ve got a hot potato to juggle, and I need Hiram to know the plan before the spud hits the fan.”

Once inside I started talking, explaining what I needed my Ploughman friend to do.

Then it was back to the recon drone. More gunfire as I came in, this time from the Jaspa lines. They were close enough to make me out, and I’d abandoned all pretense of being a bird; my profile didn’t match.

Fortunately they were lousier shots than the lucky merc bastard, and I got to the back of the cabin without a problem...

...and my heart sunk as I looked inside, and saw one last man standing there, peering out a firing slit, matches in hand just ready and waiting to light the fuses.

I’d need a minute or two to get one of the charges safely loose, and I couldn’t do it with bozo here. At least it wasn’t the one who had shot me, I didn’t need to deal with badassery of that level right now.

I watched him for a minute, doing my best to ignore time. Fidgety, this guy. Kept glancing at the back door, contemplating his escape route, no doubt. Simple plan, really. Wait until the last minute, set the fuses, then run and dive and get clear while the Jaspa close in and get blown up.

Well. Time to test his mettle.

I crashed through the remains of the window, doing my best to avoid tangling in the cloth screen, and hovered over the nearest charge as he gaped in shock.

I told him, “I’m loaded with fire bombs, and I’m blowing up in ten, nine, eight...”

He was out the back door before I could get to six. I wasted no time, but settled down next to the charges, and fired up the manipulator arm and cutters that I’d frankensteined onto the recon drone.

Ten seconds passed, and I worried he’d call my bluff and come back. But he was gone, his nerve well and truly broken or too sold to see my bluff for what it had been.

Forty more seconds and I heard the shouts of the Jaspa outside, and I knew that my window was shutting. I secured the little metal box of boom as best I could, and scrabbled with the manipulator arm until I got ahold of one of the mercs’ fallen matches. Then with much trial and error, I lit the fuses and booked it back out the window.

It was a beautiful explosion, as much of it as I could see, anyway. I didn’t have rear-mounted cameras or the time to look around. My half-assed, wounded bird was bearing a heavy burden, and all my attention had to go toward the approach. It didn’t take long as the crow flies, though I was dismayed to see four Jaspa diving for cover a mere hundred meters from the farm. The boom down south hadn’t stopped them from moving closer. Either they’d been ordered to go in, or some enterprising officer was seizing the initiative.

“Coming in hot,” I told Hiram through the construction drone, and the Arcadian at the door snapped it open, as I bulled the recon drone through, bouncing it off a wall to land at Hiram’s feet.

His face lit up when he saw the explosive charge, and he unwrapped it with haste. “I know how to use this,” he said simply.

“Good. They’re coming up through the potato patch so let’s do this and book it.”

His face twisted with emotion, and I realized what I was asking of him.

“You don’t have to hit them square on,” I told him. “They’ll survive if it’s a bit short.”

Hiram nodded grimly, and we made our break for it... though one Arcadian stopped, and looked back at my construction drone.

“It’s malfunctioning,” I lied. “Keep going.”

They ran, and the Jaspa shouted. No rifles here or they wanted prisoners, because they didn’t fire at my refugees. They did give chase... up until Hiram shouted a warning and threw the little metal charge toward them, falling well short.

They scrambled back...

...and I scrambled the construction drone out, grabbed the smoking charge, and piloted the drone squarely into the center of their little group.

“He’s a good guy, Hiram,” I told the shocked and quivering bald-headed woman who looked up out of her cover to see the fuse of her doom smoking down. “Me? Not so much.”

The world went white, and I jumped back to the recon drone, adjusted its flight to catch up with Hiram and the others. But as I did so, an alert flashed. I swore, parked the drone, and hopped over to Kagan’s feed.

They were putting him on the back of the horse woman. She and about three other animal-looking folk were gearing up, and I saw that they were getting ready to move out. I growled, hopped over to a monitor in one of the barracks, and scared the hell out of one of the nearby Arcadians who was getting some bedrest.

“Go find Cade, we need to talk now,” I snarled and moved over to peer through Kagan’s headband again. Already, they were moving, the old woman and the horse woman taking the lead, and her goon squad following.

But in the minutes I was waiting for Cade, I realized something.

They were going in the wrong direction.

They were heading west, with a slight northerly bent. Were they trying to circumvent the swamp? No, no, there were several paths she could have taken if that was their goal.

And then the old woman hauled out a radio, and a sinking feeling filled me.

I couldn’t catch what she said, or filter out the crackling static of the response, given my tac-rig’s limitations, but a quick look at the map and some hasty geometry confirmed my fears.

They were heading in the same direction that the mercs’ escape tunnel was going.

Something was fishy in Denmark. And I don’t believe in coincidences.

Cade bustled into the control room then, panting and leaning on a walking stick. I shoved aside sympathy and flashed my monitor on.

He took it in with a raised eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Lots. Remember that thing we decided to ignore? Well, that just stopped being an option...”

INTERLUDE: HUNTRESS 3

In and out. In and out. Donna focused on breathing, sucking air through the plastic shell that Core Wynne had given her.

The air was harsh with the chemicals that filled the reservoirs of the plastic mask, but Wynne had assured her they were good chemicals, that would soothe her lungs and keep them healing better.

She had quietly checked this with Juscade later, and he had taken out his glass tubes and bottles and taken drops of the chemicals and mixed them with other things, before declaring them good. They had done this in the woods, away from Wynne’s eyes.

Though the more she was around Wynne, the more she thought he would not mind such measures, approving of their hesitation and distrust.

She had thought him a god once.

But no, he was not that. He could fail, had failed with Kagan... until the boy’s inevitable death had been averted through nothing but a whim of fickle fate.

He was neither god nor man. But her tribe needed him, or they would die.

Whispers fell silent as Donna passed the entrance to the barracks, and she glanced over to see Randa’s broad face scowling after her.Randa was with Barris and Kiyn again. Donna didn’t have to guess what they were talking about. Barris and Kiyn had the opinion that the Arcadians should not have left their land and placed all their hopes in the Core. And ever since Kagan had been taken, Randa had been joining her voice to theirs, and spending more time in their camps at night.

Donna knew that it was fear driving her, fear for her son. Randa never liked waiting, never liked sitting still and doing nothing. But Cade had demanded the tribe wait until the time was right to rescue Kagan.

Donna thought that Randa loved Cade; they all did. He was the prophet, his were the words that had freed them from the Jaspa so long ago, driven them to strike out from the wilderness away from the slavers.

But...

Donna thought Randa loved her son more.

Barris and Kiyn were just sour and old and hated change. Left alone they’d do nothing, but with Randa there nagging and adding branches to the fire...

...well. It would be a problem, and sooner instead of later.

Donna walked back into the barracks. She put down the sprayer she’d used to scatter false shine around the woods and started as the glowing plastic square on the wall hopped to life.

“The lady of the hour,” Wynne said. “You’re the best scout here now. We have something that can’t wait.”

“What is it? What must I do?” her thighs were aching from the steady jog she’d done to get the paint out there quickly, and her belly was squirming from missing lunch, but Wynne didn’t exaggerate. If it couldn’t wait, it couldn’t wait.

“They’re moving Kagan,” Cade said from the doorway.

Donna’s heart soared. “You wish me to help rescue him?”

Cade looked toward the screen, his mustache drooping.

And a man appeared on the monitor.

Black haired, green-eyed, features fine yet stern.

“Who...” Donna started.

“Me,” Wynne said. “More or less. Anyway, we can’t rescue the kid right now. If I’m right, they’re taking him to meet some very dangerous people who have been through a lot recently. They also have a lot of guns, and I’m pretty sure they have some bullets left. No, this is a spying mission. I need you to wear a takkrig and get close.”

“But...” Donna’s mind flashed back to Randa’s ugly glare. “We need him back,” she finished, not sure how to say it. There will be trouble for this.

Cade caught her eye. “Don’t you worry about it,” the prophet spoke. “We’ll get him back. But now ain’t the time.”

That was that, as far as Donna was concerned. But it wasn’t just Donna who would be concerned. Still, if anyone could calm down the Randas and Kiyns of the tribe, it was Cade.

Midway through loading up a pack and strapping on one of those headbands with the earpieces, a thought struck her. “Why send me? Why not simply look and hear through the takkrig that Kagan wears?”

“It’s a tac-rig, not a takkrig,” Wynne said. To Donna the words sounded identical, but she shrugged and accepted it as the Core went on.

“And to answer your question, there’s two reasons,” Wynne said, nodding in what seemed like approval. He had a fascinating face, and Donna found it easy to look upon. His lips quirked as he glanced away, to the south. “One is that they’re already at the far reaches of my signal, and I’m not sure how far they’re going. Odds are good it’ll cut out. The other reason is simple: that white-armored bastard has advanced tech, if he recognizes it he might be able to hack it or use the signal to trace me back.”

“Trace... like track?”

Wynne nodded. “Exactly.”

Fear stirred in her chest. “If that’s the case, I need to steal it back for you! Are you sure we can’t rescue Kagan?”

“Relax,” Wynne said. “I’ll fry his tac-rig remotely before they go out of range. And I’ll be disconnecting from yours once you get close, so there’s no signal for him to detect. But this means you’ll have to go quickly to catch up with them.”

Donna had no clue what most of his explanation meant, but she agreed that she needed to hurry. And so, she finished her preparations, fixed her breather firmly on her face, and set out as fast as she dared.

Southwest was a direction that the Arcadians had yet to explore. Mainly because the forest gave way to fairly bare hills cut by an old road, jam-packed with heaps of rust and slurry that used to be vehicles. There were few places to hide on the approach unless you kept to the lee side, and the vehicle remains were like lures to hungry shine, which could hide out in those places for years, only seen when you put a foot wrong, and it burst up to seal your fate.

Which is why Donna’s surprise knew no limits when she saw the animal folk following the road, picking their way around and through the worst obstacles seemingly without care.

She couldn’t make out details at this distance, but Wynne could.

And his voice spoke in her ear, dry and determined and steady. “They’ve got the old woman, the horse girl, something that looks like a bear, a gorilla guy, and a couple of smaller things that could be anything. Maybe they were pets once, couldn’t say. Kagan’s riding on the horse girl.”

 Donna repressed a snort, feeling the vapors of the chemical mask go up her nose. She could tell that, her eyes were good after all. There were only a couple of things that silhouette could be.

Speaking of silhouettes..

...she hit the ground, studied her surroundings and the approach. She was looking up at them from a knot of trees, and she doubted they’d seen her approach.

Smell? If there was a bear-thing among them, it would have a good nose. Donna checked the wind, breathed a sigh of relief to find it was against her face. But the road, and the raised patch of earth it sat on, would shape the wind. If they followed it, she would reach a point where she might have to go upwind of them.

Donna bit her lip and remembered her lessons. Fortunately, it had rained two days ago, and the copse she had found was shaded. It was a few minutes work to dig her hands into loam and slather the stuff on.

The sun was slanting toward the west, so that was a mixed blessing. She wouldn’t be backlit against it, but if this mission lasted too long the light would be in her eyes. Especially if they kept sticking to the high grounds.

Now why were they doing that? Unless... “Guns?” She whispered in the way Wynne had taught her.

“The gorilla and horse girl are carrying something that might be,” he whispered back. “Couldn’t get a clear look. Assume they’ve got them.”

The definitive answer came half an hour later, as the baying of wild dogs broke against the crack of rifles. Donna used the time to break cover from the streambed she’d been crawling through and rush into the line of vehicle detritus. From her new hiding hole under something that had once been a large truck, she watched the gorilla pick up one of the dogs that had made it to the procession and beat it against the shattered asphalt until it stopped moving.

One of the smaller animal folk moved into view then, fluttering. She gasped to see it, some kind of small, fat bird with a man’s face on a wattle-y neck. It snapped its gaze left and right, and she shrunk into the shadows.

“There’s no way that wasn’t heard,” the gorilla rumbled.

“There were twebty of them,” came a thick-lipped, yet clearly female voice. “They would have donb damage if we’d let them all get close.”

The horse girl, Donna knew. She’d heard her speak before on the monitor, but only briefly. That blurred lispy way was unmistakable, though.

“Kid’s okay,” the old woman called. “And this is as far as we go. If Yulian’s made it out, then he’ll have heard the shots.”

“You’re not in charge,” the gorilla growled.

“I ain’t wrong, neither. You want to go on, you can go on without me or the kid. Say hi to the Jaspa who’ll come in behind Yulian. They’ll spot you in a heartbeat if you leave this cover.”

Wynne’s voice whispered in her ears. “I’m going to fry the kid’s tac-rig. Stay silent, don’t react.”

It was good that he warned her. Even knowing it was going to happen, Donna still jumped a bit when Kagan cried out, and the others shouted.

She held her breath after that, frowning at their noise. Donna was a trained scout and had learned her lessons well. No matter what happened you never yelled when you were surprised, never moved suddenly. These were ways to bring attention. Being noticed meant courting death.

Chaim called it the “hot half-second.” If you were surprised, a half-second either way wouldn’t make a difference. So, you took that time to figure out what needed doing, which reaction was good. These animal folk didn’t know of the hot half-second, they were all reactions. All instincts.

Not entirely all instinct though, as the horse girl called “Shush, shush, calm. Everybody calm. It’s off your head bnow, child. What happebed? What did you do?”

“I... I didn’t do anything. It just got hot and burned me,” Kagan said, and Donna winced to hear his tone. He was a poor liar, always had been.

Fortunately, the others didn’t seem to know him as well as Donna did.

“Oldtech,” a voice drawled. Probably the old woman’s voice, cracked and grim. “Stuff conks out at bad times. Still, this is kinda suspicious.”

“Oldtech? It didn’t look like it,” Horsegirl said. “Why didn’t you tell us it was oldtech, Drake?”

“It was his. Stuff’s priceless; people sell their lives for that shit. I figured you’d try and rob him, and I didn’t want your little racoonman getting grabby. Bastard already tried to steal my baton a few times.”

“He would have given it back,” a high-pitched male voice literally squawked.

“My baton? Yep. Kid’s headband? I don’t think so.”

Silence for a bit.

Donna risked a glance out from her cover, studied them.

They’d found a good spot to fetch up in. The heaps of rust and dust formed a small hollow here, green-carpeted with grass poking up through cracks in the road. Donna approved; the grass looked healthy and signified that there probably weren’t any strong patches of shine nearby. Probably.

Horse girl was pacing to the south, between Donna and the others, keeping an eye out toward the distant trees. She paused every now and then to hitch up an ill-fitting halter around overlarge breasts.

This close up, Donna could see that she was put together oddly. The human parts of her seemed to strain and jostle where they connected to her horse body. Her head was pulled down by the weight of the torso and arms, stretch marks showing where human neck fed into horse’s neck and joined with the lower part of her head.

Then she turned, and Donna looked past her to the gorilla, who definitely had a long rifle slung over his jacket-clad back. “I hear someonbe,” Horsegirl said.

“I see them,” the chicken thing squawked. Its voice was the high-pitched one Donna had heard earlier. “Two from the north. One’s in white armor. They’re not hiding.”

“I smell... something...” the bear rumbled. “Smell... human.”

Donna froze. The wind wasn’t from the north. It couldn’t be smelling the newcomers. Which meant that the bear was smelling her.

She pulled back and started looking around, judging the best escape routes.

“No surprise there,” the chicken thing said. “Foal, this is your business. You’re the one made the deal. You do the talking.”

“Onbly if you promise to bnot jump in, okay Chet?” Horse girl... Foal, replied.

“It concerns us all!” The gorilla snapped. “Don’t say anything stupid, and I won’t interrupt!”

“Just let her do it. This is simple,” the old woman creaked.

“Thabk you, Deedee,” Foal lisped.

“Quiet, he’s near enough to hear us now,” the chicken thing squawked.

“New smells,” the bear said. “Oil? Hot metal? Hrrrrrnnn.... not like....”

Donna’s heart skipped a beat. He smelled the newcomers now, but he’d smelled her before. If they realized that the timing was off, realized that her scent was separate, then they’d know someone was there. And then... she measured her best escape route again. Not good. Not ideal. Not with guns at her back, and she was sure that the gorilla or the horsegirl could run her down, as tired as she was.

But nobody called out; nobody yelled. They grumbled a bit more amongst themselves, then waited in silence.

Unity in front of outsiders, keep trouble within the tribe. Donna nodded in approval. Strife shown to strangers was a weakness. This was sensible of the animal folk.

Metal feet on the road then, clanking, clattering. A grinding noise, barely audible against the wind. A screeching, rattling crunch, and Donna risked a glance to see the white-armored man pushing aside a broken bumper to enter the bowl of destroyed vehicles. The armor was big, a head or more above a man’s height, and no face could be seen through a scratched, almost-opaque visor.

“Who’s the other guy?” the old woman... Deedee, asked.

“One of my troops. He’ll keep watch back there while we talk. Good to see you still alive, Drake. Makes me think we can do business here.”

“We canb,” Foal said. “We have bnews of the Core you’re looking for. Tell him what you told Deedee, Kagab.”

The boy spoke, with the old woman prompting him every time he hesitated and correcting him on a few details. To his credit he kept the tribe’s home location vague, but Donna felt her heart sink. The woods were small enough that Yulian could probably find it in a few days’ time.

“You’ve done well,” Yulian finished. “What are you going to do with the kid now?”

“We thought we could trade him back for the Core. Maybe,” Foal said.

“They’d be fools to take that trade,” Yulian said. “But if the Core has some attachment to the child, then he might be a useful way to get close.”

“You’re talking about using him as a shield,” Deedee said, and her tone suggested that the thought was no stranger. Donna shivered.

“I donb’t like the idea,” Foal confessed, and a bit of Donna’s trepidation left her.

“He’s not one of ours,” Chet snapped, and the fear came back.

“Chet!” Foal shouted. “We’ll talk about this later. Later.”

“No one’s talking about bringing harm to the boy,” Yulian spoke. “First, we find it, then we figure out the best approach... wait a minute. What’s that scent?”

Donna froze.

“What... you mean?” the bear asked. “Scent is you, right?”

Donna gathered herself to bolt.

“Charred meat? I should hope not.”

Donna relaxed. Just a bit.

“The kid’s oldtech headband shorted out,” Deedee said. “You running a jammer or something? Thought it might be something you did.”

“No, nothing. I swept for signals, but that shouldn’t disturb anything but the most sensitive monitoring devices. What does his headband do?”

“Yes, what did it do?” Foal asked.

Kagan was silent.

“Let me see that,” Yulian commanded, his voice a bit harsher. “Now, kid.”

A minute later, he spoke. “Tactical rig. Medium range. Fried to hell and recently, whoever made this installed a killswitch. And it’s freshly made, so its creator is no mystery. The Core was watching and listening to you up until it decided the risk was too great. Clever man.”

“You knew about this!” Chet rumbled.

“And what reason would he have to tell you?” Deedee retorted. “He’s a prisoner. Would you have let him go if he told you?”

“We’ve hidden for months, and now that’s gone!” the chicken thing squawked. “What’ll we do, what’ll we do, what’ll we do?”

“Calm downb!” Foal shouted. “Calm downb. Look, remember where we are. Keep it quiet. This is the wild.”

Donna nodded. At least one of them had some common sense.

“Did you say anything sensitive around the kid?” Yulian asked.

A quick conference. “Bno,” Foal replied. “Not about you, or that you wanted the Core.”

“Then we should still be good. The last thing we want is to spook it early. If it moves, we’ll have to find it again, and it’ll know we’re on the hunt.”

“Move?” Foal sounded confused. “Cores don’t move. They grow and change the world arounb them.”

“I’ve got a little more experience with these things than you do, and I tell you they can. They don’t because for most of them it’s a risk. There’s about a one in three chance that this one chose the path that allows it mobility, and I’m not happy with those odds. But if you were as smart as you say, we should be good. Anyway, the secret’s out so we’ll worry about that later. The big question now, is whether or not you’ll help me as agreed.”

“Anb our big question is whether or bnot you’ll pay us as agreed,” Foal said. “The pills.”

“The immuno-suppressants? Sure. What you’ve done so far is helpful, I’ll give you a quarter of the bottle now as a show of good faith.”

Foal’s voice, when it came, held a noticeable strain of relief. “Good. This is good. So how canb we help you get the Core?”

“That’s the tricky part...”

Yulian spoke and Donna listened until he was done. She waited until they were gone, waited another half hour just to make sure, then crawled out from her cover and began making her way back, her stomach churning in anguish.

They mostly seemed like good people.

She really didn’t want to have to kill them.

TEN

There’s an agony to uncertainty.

I knew that the power armored man had tech, but I didn’t know how good it was. I had to err on the side of caution... which was why I’d fried Kagan’s rig and set Donna’s to passive recording... with a killswitch trigger if she removed the thing.

I had to trust that she’d do her job, and make it home without incident, and run silent until then.

Cade kept me company... though he nodded off a few hours into the wait. I didn’t grudge him the rest; he’d been obviously weary of late, and the issue would be decided with or without us.

It was beyond my control, and that irked me. I didn’t like having to put my faith in others. Letting myself down was one thing, but failing due to someone else’s mistake or malice was a harder pill to swallow.

At least with Donna I could rule out malice. She didn’t look at me with the same sense of wonder she’d shown in our first encounter, and that made me a little sad. But it wasn’t a shift to contempt, merely the fact that she was getting used to me. I trusted her more than I trusted Cade. And I’d come to trust Cade a fair amount.

Mind you, if it came to a hard choice between his tribe and me, I knew which way he’d fall. But that just meant I could trust Cade to be Cade. I knew his motivations and there were no surprises there, which, in itself, was comforting.

Then he stopped breathing, which was less comforting.

I was a second away from sending my flight drone out for help when he gave a mighty snort and resumed inhalation.

I didn’t have glands anymore, or adrenaline, or an ingrained panic response, but what I’d just experienced was the closest thing to it, I was sure. It was also a reminder of a harsh truth: Cade was old. The time would come when he wasn’t here.

And when he went, I expected there would be a hell of a lot more trouble and drama with the tribe. I still didn’t have an idea of who would succeed him, and my attempts at broaching the subject had been brushed aside.

I had the feeling I was being kept out of the loop in a misguided expectation that they were doing me a favor. I also had the feeling that I was actually pretty damned good at this sort of politics and that they were wasting a resource that could benefit them.

But there was always something else to tend to, and I had no way to bring them to the table, as it were. It was frustrating. All I could do was persist and hope that they saw reason before Cade stopped breathing for good.

Rauph ran in, excited, and nudged Cade awake. “She comes!” he told the bleary-eyed elder.

“Good. Get some food going; we gonna need to ask her a lot of questions,” he replied.

“Actually, we can let her rest,” I clarified. “Once she gets in here, I’ll reactivate the tac-rig’s sharing, and we can take our time and look the footage over. Assuming she got good recordings, anyway.”

She had, and gratefully retired with a plate of stew to her warm bunk. It had been a long day for that young lady. She deserved some small comfort.

So when a sour-faced woman tried to barge into the bunk rooms shouting her name, I sealed the door. “Beat it. You can bug her when she’s awake.” I found her name in my memories. Randa? Yes, Randa.

“I must know of my son!”

Ah. THAT Randa. “Then you can watch the footage when we’re done with it and stop pestering the girl who just did you a huge favor. Film at eleven, lady. Until then tone it down and get lost, you’re doing him no good with this.”

She didn’t like the idea one bit, but she had no other alternatives. I watched her stalk off with a virtual shake of my head. That one would be trouble at some point.

Maybe I could use that.

First things first, though. I did a scan on the footage, and my crude algorithmic capability found no viruses. I downloaded it to the monitor and watched the full show with Cade and Rauph.

An hour later, I was impressed. Donna had done a bang-up job. She couldn’t always get a good angle to watch the proceedings, but her furtive glances were enough to give me faces and bodies to put to the voices.

And oh, the secrets I learned from both their own lips and the things left unsaid.

Yulian was the outsider here. Everyone else in the group was part of the animal-folk tribe... though Deedee, or Drake, or whoever she was, was her own person. She was just helping the animal-folk in this case.

And more importantly, I knew what they had planned for me.

“The first stage of the assault against the Jaspa is complete,” Yulian said on my screen. “But I’m signed on for both parts of the war. I’m going to have to go southwest and join up with the larger army. Now that we’ve cleared out the forts and drawn their available resources into the field, the Jaspa should be vulnerable to a hard punch from the south. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to wrap it up in days, weeks if we’re unlucky. I’ll need you to scout the Core’s defenses and confirm the boy’s words while I’m doing that. Keep a watch on it, make sure it goes nowhere.”

That order... that order had possibilities. Especially combined with his earlier talk about a one in three chance that I’d have extra mobility.

“We’ll need to show the tribe this,” Cade said.

“Part of it,” I agreed. “I’ll have a talk with Donna when she wakes up, make sure she keeps quiet on the part we don’t show.”

“What are you talking about? What they’re planning affects all of us. We all need to know.” Cade frowned, eyebrows curling like white caterpillars.

“No, we don’t all need to know,” I said. “This is basic opsec. If one of our guys gets captured, then we don’t want the bad guys knowing that we know they know what they know.”

“Now you’re just having fun with words.”

“I’m deadly serious. The only reason I’m okay with showing any of it, is that the kid’s involved, and it would hurt morale if we didn’t show them he was going to be all right.”

And he was going to be all right. The animal-folk had agreed to keep him until Yulian was ready to come after me.

He knew I knew about him, from the fried tac-rig. He didn’t know that I had monitored his new conversation.

Cade was arguing with me, and I bantered back with him for a while. The fact that I controlled the footage gave me leverage; nobody would see a thing unless, and until I showed it to them. But the fact that Donna had listened to the whole thing gave him leverage; if I didn’t show the tribe enough to satisfy him, then he’d have her tell everything.

I could see his point, I really could. The Arcadians had escaped slavery to find their own fate. And you couldn’t make your own fate without information. My mind vaguely recalled a quote about wariness against men who would withhold information. But I was seeking to be the master of nothing and no one, save for myself.

I simply didn’t have faith in the Arcadians to keep any sort of secret. Not when it mattered. Not when lives were on the line.

The realization stirred me; thoughts that had been congealing in the back of my mind now manifesting to solidity with words. I had a powerful man with unknown resources and assets gunning for me, and the best of the Arcadians was arguing with me, trying to breach basic operational security.

I couldn’t help but feel irked about it. They weren’t the target; I was.

I liked Cade. I liked Donna. I didn’t like the other Arcadians as much, but I could feel a sort of rough acceptance of them, a responsibility that would keep me trying to better their situation.

But they hadn’t earned my trust like Donna had. Like Cade had. At the end of the day I was still a suspicious, miserable bastard who had to look north and expect the weather to be heavy back-targeting knives borne by a southern wind.

I made my concessions, and Cade made his exit. Both of us had gotten a bit heated there.

And a few hours later, the bulk of the tribe filtered back in and watched the footage in silence. Chores had been put aside to frantically paint the woods... and a good thing we’d done it, too. The westernmost scouts were reporting Jaspa poking around the tree line. I made a mental note to send the remaining shifts out with the tacrigs I had at hand.

Not Donna’s, though. She had proven herself with this trip.

I listened to her cough through the barracks audio and worried. It was getting worse. I would have to up the number of circuits I planned to dedicate to medical business. And that was a problem, because what I needed to be doing was figuring out a way to escape Yulian and dedicating circuits to that...

Or did I?

I had escaped the last overwhelming threat... but was Yulian an overwhelming threat?

He was a man with some tech and obscured motives. Why did he want me? What was his game? Sure, I could be a benefit to any faction that held me, with my production and terraforming capabilities. But he already had some of that, given his own escape from the Jaspa through a quickly-built tunnel.

This might be a battle I could win.

Especially since he was using catspaws to come after me. Perhaps quite literally catspaws, depending on the range of animals that the animal folk had among them.

Put in that light, I could maybe maneuver this to my advantage.

And taking it a step further... perhaps those circuits into medical processes wouldn’t be a waste after all. Viewing the footage, it was clear that the only reason the zoo crew were helping Yulian was because of a promise of pills. Immuno-suppressants, to be specific.

I riffled through my past medical knowledge databases, and realization dawned.

They weren’t mutants.

They had been made. By whom or by what I didn’t know, but the process that had shaped them was far from stable. Grafted organs or prosthetics were involved, and without those pills, they would probably die.

Could I make those pills for them?

I didn’t even know how to start. The past medical knowledge had some good formulae, but they stopped centuries behind what would have been the height of modern medical science at the apocalypse. Past medical knowledge only took me so far, I’d need something more up to date to get much farther with this idea.

Alternatively, if I could get my virtual hands on some of those pills, or maybe chop up a dead animal person, I could come at it from a different angle.

Shoving morbid thoughts out of my mind, the notion occurred to me that if I could open a line of communication I could just ask them what they needed and see about borrowing a sample.

Just asking someone for something... that was a tactic I’d honestly never tried. Even with the tribe I was with, I’d ordered, suggested, wheedled, and cajoled my way through dealings. Part of that was the situation we were in; we were just so busy, all of the time. The only time free to talk with people was when they made time from their chores, or whatever crisis was afflicting us at any given moment.

With the exception of Cade, my face time with my adopted tribe was minimal.

And thinking about it more, that was problematic. We were under a hell of a lot of stress, and it was only going to increase when the animal folk came. The near future promised no end of problems and that would cause tensions to rise.

Cade wouldn’t be around forever.

I needed to open lines of communication that didn’t involve him.

A few options presented themselves, and I came to an idea that I decided to call project Asimov.

A thought drew the schematic to me out of thin air, and for once I was spared the “Insufficient Subroutines” problem. My early focus in construction was paying dividends, here.

I set the nanoswarms to work, and watched feedstock go. This would set me back a small amount, but if it worked out the return would be invaluable...

ELEVEN

The world flickered, and I opened eyes for the first time in a long while.

True, they were glass hemispheres lined with receptive photo-sensitive panels, but they were eyes, nonetheless.

I rose to my feet and stretched out metal arms, feeling wires slide through pulleys, and plastic plates and pads pull taut against each other. It had been guesswork, trying to figure out what a good stretch would feel like, but I thought I had done a decent job.

I hopped out of my new shell to consider it from afar.

Four feet tall and thin, black and silver, metal and glass and plastic mixing together, with cables and gears showing between the joints. I’d gone for something like a man wearing light armor, but unfortunately the schematic for the Mk I Personal Interaction Drone only had a few customization options available. I had good ratings in fabrication and drones, but even so, compact motors could only bear so much weight.

The face had been the toughest part. I’d tried over and over again to get it right, but I just didn’t have the fabrication expertise to make a holographic projector small enough, and I couldn’t make a mechanical replica that satisfied my own trepidation over the uncanny valley.

Then I’d come to a realization: the holographic projector didn’t have to be inside the drone.

I flicked on the one that I’d subtly built into my core chamber, and aimed it carefully, projecting my chosen face onto the dome of receptive plastic that I’d chosen for a head. I studied fine cheekbones, a sardonic smile, and flashing green eyes, and found them good. A minor edit to modify my hairstyle, make it look more natural, and I was satisfied. For now, anyway.

It wasn’t perfect. And it had eaten up a lot of feedstock. But for this test run, it would suffice.

The tribe was just waking up when I strolled into the first barracks. A bit rash, true, but this would go one of two ways, and if it broke bad, I wanted to get it over with quickly.

I was met with slack-jawed stares. One of the parents pulled their children over to the far wall and thrust herself between us.

Could have been worse, I mused. I turned my head, sweeping eyes across pale faces. “I’ll handle breakfast,” I announced. “Hope you like porridge, because that’s what we’ve got.”

That sparked a few nervous chuckles, and I relaxed a bit. The comment hadn’t been random; I’d been listening in on the conversations in the barracks, and the number one gripe was the lack of variety in the food. It had seemed like a good place to start establishing a shared dislike, and that sort of communal hardship could make for an easily obtainable bond.

Then I started past the group, toward the area they’d chosen for the mess hall and hoped for the best.

They muttered my name as realization struck them, and I relaxed a bit more. This was what I’d wanted; this was what I’d hoped. Only some of them had seen my face, but every one of them had heard my voice.

It also didn’t hurt that I’d kept the drone small, I thought. Physically non-imposing, clearly not a threat. Well, once I’d discounted the idea of armor, or armor-like plates, anyway.

Once in the kitchen I told the bleary-eyed chef du jour to take a holiday and gently steered him toward the bunks as I reviewed footage of prior porridge preparations. No real surprises there, oat-based glop was oat-based glop regardless of the century you happened to inhabit.

I left the drone doing its work and hopped out to spy on the room I’d left behind. The general consensus seemed to be that I was trying to be friendly, though there was a sour minority that was certain I had either gone mad or was trying something sneaky.

Well, they weren’t wrong. Just attributing more malice than I had at the minute.

I relaxed the last amount when Cade woke, and they filled him in on what I’d done this time. They importuned him to go in and find out what was eating me and whether or not they needed to run for their lives.

They didn’t put it exactly in such sanguine words, mind you. But that was more or less what it boiled down to.

So it was that Cade strolled in, and I cheerfully ladled him a scoop of oat-enriched glop, grinning all the while. I could grin. I had a face again, and though it was a small thing, I’d missed it so. The monitors had been a step in the right direction, but this... this was what I’d needed. This would help me find commonality between myself and my tribe.

“I’m not sure I get what you’re doing,” Cade told me, considering his oatmeal rather than meet my eyes. “Besides drumming in just how different you are from them.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I quipped to cover my sinking heart. “You sure it’s not doing the opposite thing? Revealing that we’re all just people here, at the end of the day? Giving some common ground to work with?”

Cade hesitated, and I could tell that he was trying to find an answer that wouldn’t hurt my feelings. “If you’d done this from the start,” he said, slowly, “if you’d done this from the start, then it would have probably paid off. But starting it now, in the middle of all these other changes, it just gives the people who say that you’re fickle and too fond of changes some legitimacy. Yeah, it’s better than nothing, but the monitors were better than nothing.”

“Fickle and too fond of changes?” I stared at him, remembering to blink after a few dozen seconds. “I haven’t heard any of that sort of complaint.”

“You won’t,” he shrugged. “They know you’re listenin’ in on the rooms. The folks who grumble about this make sure to do it out in the woods, where you can’t hear it.”

Then one of the turns of phrase that he’d used registered with me. “You said I was drumming in how different I was from them.”

“Yeah?”

“Not how different I was from us. You’re not including yourself with the them.”

By now people were trickling in, and I served them cheerfully. The reactions varied from nervousness to amused grins as bowls of porridge passed into hungry hands, and people found their seats. No time to talk until it was done, and once the rush had finished, I walked over to Cade’s table and sat next to him.

He’d had time to consider his answer, I was sure of it, so when he nodded to the others around him I wasn’t surprised to see them leave wordlessly.

“I say them,” he said with his voice so low I had to crank up the sensors, “because we come from different places, with different views on things, and different experiences. I told you I came from Redberry Agrofarm, yes?”

I racked my memory, found my answer. “You said it was an agricultural settlement run with pre-core technology. That politics drove you out.”

“Yeah.” His face fell, and I watched memories flicker through his eyes. Cade took off his glasses, leaned back, and sighed. “Saved my life, mos’ likely. Given what happened to the place and all.”

I leaned back too, considered the room. The nearest tables were listening in, making no real secret about it.

“Tell us the story, please, elder,” I mimicked the phrase that I’d heard some of them say to him before, and he chuckled wryly as he replaced his spectacles on his nose.

“Ain’t much to tell,” he said, some of his dark mood lightening. “The place was at the edge of the glowlands, and holdin’ the shine back took more and more each year. Eventually the Jaspa made war on us, and they wrecked the sprayers that kept the shine at bay. Place was overrun by plant-spreading shine within days, an’ folks surrendered and became slaves or died glowing.” He looked at me soberly. “The reason I bring it up is because the system running the place had a ’bot that it used to interact with people.”

“System... not a Core? You said the place didn’t use core tech.”

“Yeah. It was an early-model AI. Nice fella, and his body looked a lot like yours does.” Cade smiled. “Saw a lot of that android growing up. Got real fond of old Argus.”

Argus!

The name ripped through me, catching me by surprise and stirring up emotions that I hadn’t expected.

Argus, the first thing I’d met when I wakened to my new consciousness. Argus, my reluctant partner in crime, and faithful advisor. Argus, who had succumbed to a snippet of malicious code at the hands of my greatest nemesis.

Argus, who I missed sorely every waking minute.

“Argus, you say?” I forced my voice to remain steady.

“Yeah. Looked a lot like you, only he had way more eyes in his head piece.” Cade tapped my forehead, and I chuckled, even though my mind was completely elsewhere.

Way more eyes... that had to be him. Some version of him, anyway.

Now that I thought of it, I couldn’t say I was surprised. Juno, the artificial entity that was the controller and enabler of the cores, had downloaded Argus to me. Why on earth would I be the only core that got an Argus? Why had I assumed that Argus was a singular being?

“Cade,” I said, casual and understated, “what happened to Argus when the agrofarm fell?”

“Dunno for sure. I wasn’t there,” he said, pushing his porridge around in its bowl, before swallowing a large bite. “By then they’d captured me, but I was back at their capital, working on machines. The Jaspa wrecked the place, salvaged what they could, but I didn’t see any of his parts in what they brought back. Don’t know that they’d have much use for him, though. Not after that business with their own core. It’s possible they jus’ wrecked him and left him to rust.” He turned his head a bit, frizzy mane of white hair bobbing as he remembered. “I do recall hearing the soldiers who dropped the salvage off grumbling that the shine moved too fast, that they couldn’t get to the good stuff in the control center. So if he was in there, he mighta been spared them. Not sure that’s better, though. Dead by shine is worse than dead by hammer, I reckon. One’s slow, the other’s fast.”

This wasn’t something I could act on right now, but it was something I needed to investigate. Argus had been a great advisor and a huge help in navigating my way through the intricacies of my technology, particularly with the gridnet. I’d been forced to cut myself off from that to escape my nemesis, and I didn’t regret that. But I knew that once I was prepared, I could head back into that chaotic and kludged-together network, and reap great rewards from it... assuming I had the proper precautions and assets lined up.

To fix what I’d done, would take either a hell of a coder or a personal store of knowledge to repair what had been broken. A copy of Argus might just be the thing I was looking for.

In any case, I had other concerns at the minute. Right now, my objective was to find more ways to empathize with the tribe, and show them that I was trustworthy. After that, I needed to find ways to prepare for the animal-folk’s arrival and espionage. After THAT, I had to work with Hiram to find a way to safely bring in the harvest without stirring up the Jaspa.

Still, I’d learned something new, something that might be useful in the future. And I’d learned it by mingling, by getting out of my core chamber and being social.

Cade’s forecast on the utility of my drone might be accurate at the heart of it all, but the effort had still borne fruit within an hour of implementation. Not the fruit I was expecting but something worthy of making into a good jelly, at least.

Perhaps he was being too gloomy. I decided to keep the experiment rolling and see what came of it.

Rauph was next. I found him in the small chamber that they’d asked to be set aside for crafting. He was arms deep in weeds, cracking them open and pulling out the fibers within.

He was a big guy, muscles raw and stark and showing through a half-vest of fur that left most of his chest and abdomen exposed. He didn’t have the cut lines and bulges of a body-builder or action star, just the sturdy build of someone who had worked every day of his life and burned through a hell of a lot of calories with his labor.

“Core Wynne,” he said, putting his handful of plants aside and starting to rise.

“No, it’s all right, sit down. Show me how to do this, I want to help.”

I knew how to pull fiber already, having watched shifts of people do this here over and over again. But careful observation of Rauph had shown me that he had a soft spot for teaching people. It was an easy in to get him comfortable with me, and I had no shame in pretending ignorance.

Sure enough, he was happy to show me the best methods of teasing the tiny fibers out of the stems of the weeds. Soon we had a good rhythm going, stringing fibers on a pegboard to keep them tight while they dried.

“We had flax up north,” Rauph told me. “That was easier to work with. Just took more time, with the soaking and drying and waiting. This stuff... I don’t know the name for it.” He held up a brownish string, still damp from its vegetable husk, and stared at it cross-eyed.

I refrained from laughing. And after a moment’s consideration, I found that his statement wasn’t laughable at all. “I don’t know the name for it either. So much we’ve lost...”

“Lost? We just found this,” Rauph frowned at me. “And I’m glad we did. We didn’t have enough room to take flax with us, and we will always need more clothing. Especially with winter coming.”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” I said, my fingers moving mechanically to keep peeling fibers. “There was a time when humanity had named everything on the planet, knew their uses and learned to use them in the best ways possible. Names had meaning; you could know a thing within moments of encountering it, thanks to the shared knowledge of civilization. All that’s gone now. Dust on the wind.”

Rauph considered my words, then smiled. “We could dwell on what was lost. Or we could look at it as opportunity. The knowledge is gone, but the things remain; we can discover them anew and find out what these things do. The world is still full of treasures, and we can learn about them again. What has been lost that cannot be replaced?”

“Time and lives mostly,” I said, but I was grousing. “But you’re right. We’re set for the long-term, assuming we can survive, anyway.” I considered apologizing for my negativity, but something in me wouldn’t let the words escape. I was bad with apologies, even when they were minor.

But it wasn’t necessary. Rauph laughed, and clapped me on the shoulderpad. “You sound like Marga! How sour she is. We haven’t died yet, hm? We’re doing something right.”

“Marga’s your wife, right?”

“I am one of her husbands. Women are no longer wives. We are not the Jaspa; we do not dictate who can lay with whom.”

“I’ve noticed that. You folk don’t sweat the details.” Though a quick check of my footage showed that whenever Marga was engaged in romantic things or comforting contact, it was with Rauph. She had a few other boyfriends, but her bedmate was usually Rauph at the end of the day. Rauph had his ladyfriends too, for that matter, but always ended back up with Marga more often than not. To me that said they were pretty much mates, even if they didn’t call it that in so many terms.

“We don’t,” Rauph smiled, and his smile was sad. “That was why we had to leave the Jaspa. Why we followed the prophet, those years ago.”

“They tried to tell you who you could mate with?”

“No, they didn’t try. They did tell us who we could lay with.” His smile vanished. “If you draw the eye of a speaker, they can take you as a mate. If you draw the eye of a warrior, they can lay with you freely, no matter who you are married to. Well, unless you are a speaker’s mate. That’s different. Marga... Marga came to her beauty early. Once she came to her womanhood, she would be a wife. And that’s not the life she wanted, so we fled with Cade before that happened.”

I checked the records. No children between these two. And though Marga cheerfully played with the children when it was her time to watch them, she didn’t show any favoritism that I could see. Not like Randa and her obsession with her son.

“She didn’t want children?” I risked a guess.

“She did not,” Rauph shot me a look of surprise. “That is it, precisely. She does not mind men... or women, for that matter, but she does not want the changes that birth would bring. I helped her with that. I have always been good with plants. I made sure she had the herbs that kept her from pregnancy, back when the speakers began to take her.”

Some heat in that last sentence. Then it clicked. “You fled before she came to her womanhood. But the speakers took her...” Realization clicked, and with it came a cold fury.

“Aye,” Rauph said. “Some of them like their bedwarmers young.”

Silence, then. What could I say to that?

The speakers were the priests, more or less, of the Jaspa. They claimed to be in communication with Norcom, a military organization that had fallen long ago.  From what Cade had told me, they used their privileged position to manipulate and placate the warrior caste, and oppress everyone else, keeping them in serfdom.

I came to a decision at that point. No matter the white-armored man’s motives, no matter the threat that the animal folk presented me, I would not aid the Jaspa. Not while they remained as they were. Not while a speaker lived. I had been toying with the idea of bolstering them in order to keep Yulian occupied, but that idea was gone now.

I was not a good man. But I rejoiced in the suffering of the wicked, and found joy in tearing down their works, that I knew. I fancied myself an evil that preyed upon evils.

We talked as we worked and the pile of fibers grew. I found that he too was concerned for Cade, had noticed the increasing wear and tear on his prophet... no, his friend. He was one of the original circle who had fled with the old man when the opportunity arose. And though he didn’t say it out loud, I had the feeling that Rauph had no mystical delusions about Cade and only went along with calling him a prophet because it kept a good chunk of the Arcadians happy.

There was a tenacity to religion, I mused to myself as I finished a shift’s work of fiber-worrying and placed the results on the rack. It was as if men were made with an urge to bend the knee, to place the worries that piled up in the backs of their minds in the  hands of other people rather than devote time to thinking them out. I could see it, I supposed. Easy enough to feel overwhelmed, to toss the things you couldn’t answer on the heads of long-dead messiahs or half-remembered rituals and hope for the best.

I couldn’t operate like that. True, I was more than human these days, but I got the sense that whoever I had been... both meat-brain and fictional overlaid persona, whoever that had been had been someone who looked at the world square on, shrugged, and got the job done without blaming or leaning on gods who might or might not exist.

I rather thought a lot of alcohol was involved in this method. Probably wasn’t fun, either. But better that than ignorance, better that than giving some charismatic con-man an easy hook into my brain, like how the speakers had wormed their way into the thought-boxes of the Jaspa.

But...

I was forgetting my primary mission, here. Scorn and ire towards bad religion wasn’t a good way to connect with a group who lived with their very own mortal prophet.

I needed some good religion to balance out my brooding mood, so I sought out Hiram. This was actually a twofold visit; I wanted to see how his experiments were coming.

I found him in the well-ventilated workshop I’d crafted for him a few days ago, respirator over his face as compounds sizzled away in a small tub.

He looked at me for a long minute, eyes unreadable over the mask as I stared back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I finally remarked.

“Mayhap I have,” he said, turning to check his mixture. “You said you were a man once. Now you are a machine. You are literally what remains of who you were. What would you call yourself?”

“Overworked and underpaid, most days.”

That got a snorted laugh. I leaned over, checked things with the lab’s sensors. “Potassium nitrate? Be still my metal heart.”

“Aye. Took longer than I thought to get the mix right. I’m not used to working with such machines.” He flicked a gloved finger toward the electric range I’d set up for him.

Potassium nitrate was one of the compounds I couldn’t make directly. Not yet, not without circumventing a hell of a lot of safeguards set up to prevent people from hacking me and turning everything into explosives. While I could see the logic behind it, it was still aggravating. If I’d simply had guns or explosives back when I was under siege, it would have been a far easier trip.

...well, to a point. Tyr and my unnamed nemesis still had years on me. Guns wouldn’t have helped there.

“So how long until we’ve got TNT from this?” I asked. That was something else I couldn’t do, assemble proscribed chemicals into proscribed combinations.

“A few days, if I do nothing else.” His eyes flicked upwards, as he thought. “I believe that the crops are stable enough that I should not have to see to them personally. The scouts I trained can tend them for now. Assuming the Jaspa didn’t damage the fields.”

“They didn’t. The only part of the harvest lost came from the mercs’ escape. That blast they set off collapsed the tunnel and ruined the fields.”

He took that with what I assumed was a grimace. “Well, that wouldn’t have been the largest harvest anyway. But I worry that the Jaspa will be back for the crops, now that they have seen how many are still intact.”

“About that...” I slid into a chair, and he stared at me as I crossed my hands under my face and stared pensively at the wall. “I’ve been thinking about the Jaspa. I’ve been thinking that they need to go away. Or at least change management. What are your thoughts on that?”

He was quiet for a time, stirring his mixture before setting the tub of crystals-to-be off to the side to harden. Then he dragged over a chair and sat down next to me.

“It was hard when the world broke,” he said. “My faith... my people, we had been preparing for such a thing for a very long time. Ungodly ways, blind trust in technology that hadn’t been tested, rampant wars and decisions that always looked to the short-term... it was inevitable. And yet, we suffered just as everyone else did. Less so in some ways, because we had resisted dependence on technology we couldn’t make ourselves. More so because even though we had tried, we still needed a few things that we could not get otherwise. It’s...” his voice dropped. “It is the truth of humanity that we all need each other, no matter how much we fight it. That is God’s lesson for us, I think. That in the end nobody stands alone.”

“It’s a lesson all right,” I said, non-committal.

But he didn’t push. “Bandits came for us; we gave them food freely and shelter, and they left friends. Some stayed, and joined our ranks, putting aside bullet and blade for faith and fields. Self-made kings came to rule us, and we gave them tithe and treaty, waiting until they eventually fell. Some were sensible and kept their laws and legions from us. Others were foolish and tried to muster us into armies. But we would not fight, no matter who they executed or punished, and so they withdrew until they too passed into history. The Jaspa...” he took a long breath, let it out. “The Jaspa are just one more in a legion of false kings. We were here before they decayed into their current form. We will be here after them.”

“By we, you’re talking about your own people. The Ploughmen.”

“Aye. I told you before, I’ll help you while I’m here, but I will return to them in time.”

“And I’m fine with that. That won’t change.”

His shoulders settled a bit, tension easing from them.

“But it seems to me, the sooner the Jaspa are dealt with, the sooner you can go home.”

He rubbed at the point where his beard emerged from the respirator. “I would be lying if the thought hadn’t occurred to me. But God will see to them in his own time. Until then I must be patient.”

“That’s the difference between the two of us,” I said, looking over at him. “I don’t have to be patient. In fact, now that you’ve cracked the bottleneck that we were waiting on, I’m starting to get an idea of how to play this conflict out to our advantage...”

TWELVE

All in all, Project Asimov had a good first day. I managed to worm my way into three or four more conversations with the Arcadians and get some reactions that I’d never managed as a face on a screen or a voice from above.

Despite Cade’s pessimism, I figured that the effort was worth doing, whether or not the optimal time had passed.

That said, there was a solid third of the populace that wanted nothing to do with me, and putting myself into a basically-humanoid robot body only made that even more obvious.

Which was fine by me. I adjusted my surveillance to keep track of this third and notify me if they did anything suspicious. My security ratings were up enough that they had a pretty good list of red flag activities, and coding up a small daemon for monitoring was barely any effort at all.

I was starting to like my software schematics. Most of them took no bandwidth, and none of them required feedstock, which was good because my stores were low.

I’d mined out the rich sediment buildup along the old storm drain for about a kilometer back along its length, and it had fueled construction so far. Two barracks, a sick bay, a mess hall, and a few assorted workshops were the fruits of those labors. The rest had gone into drones and equipment. I made sure to keep a full complement of a construction drone, a recon drone, a crossbow turret, and a pair of nanoswarms. Now the personal interaction drone was in the mix too, pushing my full bandwidth to fourteen out of twenty of its capacity.

To get more bandwidth I’d have to gather feedstock, then build and expand and plant broadcast nodes... which took feedstock to make. It was a never-ending cycle.

Fortunately, I’d been playing it conservatively, holding off on major shifts and changes until I was ready to grow.

Now, with my old layout compromised to the animal-folk, it was a prime opportunity to do some internal shifting.

I paused, to take a good hard look at myself.

Controller Designation: Wynne

Make/Model: Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L

Resonance Rate: 1/23:32

Bandwidth: 20 (6) Feedstock: 10

Open Circuits: 2

Specialized Circuits: 35

Floors: 1

Minions: 6

2X Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Light Construction Drone

Mk I Personal Interaction Drone

Tension Bow Turret Mk. II

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 3, Fabrication 2

Medical (1): Cybernetics 1, Pharmaceuticals 1, Recovery 1

Power: Broadcast 1, Efficiency 1, Redundancy

Research (1): Algorithms 1, Analysis 1, Databases 1

Security (2): Defensive 2, Drones 2, Offensive 2

Storage (1): Energy 1, Material 1, Organic 1

Improvements:

Lockdown: Thanks to your modular construction, you can activate a lockdown mode, temporarily and greatly increasing the electronic and physical defense of your systems and facilities, at the cost of shutting down all contact with the outside.

Manhunter: Your security measures and minions are optimized for use against humans.

Maximized Storage Space: Construction automatically finds the best way to maximize storage space, allowing an average of 10% more capacity than otherwise generated.

Modular: All devices and fixtures can be reconfigured on the fly for ease of assembly and repurposing.

Omnibiologist: Due to your interaction with non-human organisms both benign and hostile, you are specialized in researching aliens, mutants, and artificial life forms.

Past Medical Knowledge: You have access to databases detailing ancient and pre-fall medical knowledge and treatments that were instrumental in developing modern medicine.

Sturdy Construction: Your construction techniques utilize multiple layers and reinforced structural components. All items and features constructed are moderately tougher.

Schemas

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Basic HVAC Unit

Combined Bodycam and Tac-Rig

Broadcast Node

Light Construction Drone

Core Cleansing Catalyst

Drop Ceiling

Feedstock Storage Bin Mk I

Frangible armor Mk I

Humanocentric Translation Program

Lightweight Frangible Stone Reinforcement

Metal Detector Handheld Unit

Moderately Hazardous Tilting Floor

Moderately Unsafe Spikes

Nanobuilder Swarm (illumination upgrade)

Reinforced Steel Door

Moderately Hazardous Pit Trap

Tension Bow Turret Mk II

WARNING: Contamination detected! Core is 18% compromised.

With a thought, I slid the two open circuits into my broadcast subroutine. Another thought adjusted my Tac-Rig schematic to a covert surveillance suite. Goodbye bulky visual receptor headband, hello earrings that did the trick without any visible hints of oldtech.

It did cost six feedstock, as opposed to the previous handful of elements, but that was fine.

I chimed bells through the chambers, in the pre-arranged signal, and waited for my people to clear out. Then I started dropping ceilings.

It was the lazy man’s way of building, really. I didn’t have to devote time or feedstock to creating seals and fill-ins for the parts I wanted gone. I just had to shift the structure above the no-longer-necessary bits until it could barely support the ceiling, then remove that last little part.

In theory, it would collapse and fill in the spaces with the dirt and rock of the hillside above, saving me the trouble. Oh, the collapse would be obvious to anyone seeing the way the soil had shifted but if it turned out to be a problem, then that’s why I had the construction drone.

It’s good to have theories. They make for good science, and you learn something even if they’re disproved.

In my case though I’d focused on theories to the point of that I’d forgotten one of the most basic rules of core complex architecture:

You have to leave an open path from an entrance to the core chamber.

I’d just gotten rid of the only entrance. And my hubris had been in assuming that I could open the new one after I’d done so.

The dirt fell, the rocks surged down into the chamber, and my vision filled up with words, most of them ERROR.

Time stopped, fluttered in a stutter-step, as my thoughts turned into disconnected lines, and I felt myself threatening to fly apart.

A simple rule.

An easily forgettable rule.

I had broken it, and it had broken me.

Perhaps I screamed, I couldn’t tell. Whirling images, random shifts as my perspective flickered from one camera to the next, then faster, and faster until even my own heightened senses and multi-tasking mind couldn’t process it.

I’m dying, I thought to myself as I tried to jump out, tried to get to a drone and failed, lagged or canceled or overridden, I couldn’t tell which.

The only thing my actions seemed to do was generate a new error message:

PATHING ERROR... SEARCHING FOR VALID CORE CHAMBER LOCATION...

A thousand, thousand rippling vistas, black and light and every inch and angle of the compound I’d built. Empty of people and frozen in time as I flickered through.

There was one shot where I saw a tilted bowl left over from dinner on a table in the mess hall, and porridge dripped out of it bit by bit... or was dripping. I watched a drop form on the edge of it, bulge out in slow motion that seemed to take what to me were hours but that I knew were fractions of a second. I was between the seconds, between the sights, and my life was lagging darkness and regret and rage at my own stupidity.

And then...

And then my view split.

I was in my core, watching words scroll by: EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN IN 10... 9... 8...

I was peering through the tac-rigs where they hung on racks in the “armory.”

I was looking out of the cameras of every drone.

And the notion came to me that if I shut down, I wasn’t sure I would start up again.

Cade had barely gotten me working again after my last shutdown, and that had been a planned one.

And so I thought override. Override!

The numbers marched on.

I gathered all of me, focused myself, drew upon every ounce of willpower I had, and I visualized the numbers stopping.

And the part of me that was still in my core saw the countdown pause.

New text appeared, as I strained, and rampant corruption gnawed and danced around my crumbling brain.

SELECT ALTERNATE CORE CHAMBER LOCATION

One by one, my perspectives disappeared.

It was good in one sense, I no longer felt madness threatening to overwhelm me or suffered distractions as I tried to focus on holding myself together.

But in the end, I was left with three options, three remaining perspectives. Always three choices, I thought, and it undid me.

My focus faltered.

The countdown resumed.

Four became three. Three became two.

And before two could become one, I made my choice.

One turned to zero, and I opened my eyes in my personal interaction drone.

I stared down at the forest floor, an inch from my fallen frame, listened to shouts of alarm around me. My insides were twisting, literally, I could feel them moving around in there... which was a trick and a half, since I hadn’t put in any sort of nerves into the mix.

I pushed myself up, found helping hands along the way as I rose.

I was down to one perspective. And I ached.

“Give me a second,” I told the well-wishers. One of them yelled for Cade, but I shushed him, looked around the hill and down into the ravine. The earth had collapsed, all right.

“Something went wrong,” I told them. “Help me dig.”

We dug, and by the time a couple of hours were done, we had a glorified burrow.

I jumped into the recon drone and something was off but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Worrying, that. I sent the drone down the tunnel, into the remnants of the storm drain, and right up to my core. It was dark, with occasional flashes of light across the central orb.

I tried to jump into it, and words flashed before me.

WARNING! DEVICE IS CORRUPTED. REFORMAT Y/N?

No, no, a thousand times no!

Unless...

Was I still in there?

Dimly, I became aware of activity at the personal interaction drone. I jumped into it and failed.

The hell was this?

A moment of confusion. Some quick experimentation. And the dawning truth.

I couldn’t jump into the humanoid drone because it was now my default body.

It was now my core... of a sort.

I eased out of the recon drone and stared into Cade’s face. “This is awkward.”

“What happened?”

“I fucked up. But maybe not entirely. Let me see something here.”

I couldn’t feel the nanoswarms, not until I jumped into the recon drone. Signal strength issues? Maybe. The swarms weren’t equipped with distant receptors, not like the other minions. I guided the recon drone as close as possible to where they swirled idly in the air, interrupted mid-task, and hopped into first one and the other. Giving them their marching orders, I bounced back outside and waved off questions until they finished shaping the new entrance, a couple hundred meters away.

Cade was a patient man; he waited until I gave everyone the all-clear to go back in and settled down on a rock to look myself over. I didn’t look any different, physically.

“What happened?” he asked, again.

“I did something against core protocols, and it shunted me into this body,” I told him. “For all intents and purposes, the system sees this body as the core now, not the orb down in the darkness.”

He chewed his mustache. “Let’s go take a look.”

Fourteen minutes later he shook his head and put aside his tools. “The core is shut down. I don’t know how you’re still awake.”

“I don’t know either.” I lifted my hands, flexed metal fingers. “I can still hop into drones and shift my view around the complex. I can command the nanoswarms to build things, and... wait.”

Status, I commanded, and if I’d had blood I would have paled. “There it is. There’s the catch.”

Just a small thing, among the rest of my numbers.

A resonance rate of 0/00:00

It was sobering, when I thought of it. Technology so advanced that my entire consciousness, all that I truly was, could be uploaded into a basic drone without compromising my personality or mental capacity.

It was more sobering to see that all the technological development, the self-improvement and upgrade capacity was tied to that irreplaceable, unimaginably valuable chunk of hardware in front of us.

I could exist in other devices. I could still feel the complex around me. But I couldn’t grow unless that hardware was up and running.

“I can try to restart it,” Cade offered.

“Give it a shot,” I concurred.

He worked his magic. It had power this time, so he didn’t have to jump me with a damned car battery at least.

But the second the lights flickering around its side coalesced and started to spin upwards, that same message appeared before me:

WARNING! DEVICE IS CORRUPTED. REFORMAT Y/N?

“No,” I ground out, and the lights faded back to their sleeping state.

“No?” Cade asked. “You change your mind?”

“I might have to is the problem. The only way this is going to let me restore myself is if I wipe the slate clean.”

“How clean?”

“I think I’d survive it, so long as I’m in this body. But the question is whether or not my dedicated circuits would survive it, and I’m thinking the answer is no. I’d have to start my upgrading again from the beginning. That’s a month’s worth of time lost, and the capabilities I need to survive Yulian and his merry crew gone at exactly the worst moment.”

“Are you sure that’s what it would do? Is there any way to make a backup?”

“No to the first part and I’m not sure to the second. I need to talk to someone who knows more about this before I pull the trigger, though.” I pondered. “Where is your old agrofarm, exactly?”

Cade’s face pulled into a wary grimace. “Why would you want to know that?”

“I need to talk to someone smart on this subject, and my peers aren’t an option. I need an Argus, and I think that if we’re lucky, rumors of your guy’s death have been greatly exaggerated.”

He argued, but only a bit. Now that I’d put doubt into his head, I could see that curiosity was eating at him. Still, he put up a token protest and brought up some good points.

“This don’t help us with Yulian or his zoo crew. They’ll be on us soon.”

“Then it’s a good thing I can multi-task,” I said, as I set the drone swarms to manufacturing an upgraded tac-rig earring set. “You go rest. I’ll go hunt down Donna and see if we can get a long shot rolling here...”

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 2

Bastard Brock hated the Low Binding.

The place was a muddy shithole, and worse, it was a haunted muddy shithole. It had been a cemetery back before the war and the Highbinders, the weirdos who ran the place, had just dug up the graves, and used the coffins and crypts and stones as building materials. Add in scattered wood brought in from distant forests, sheet metal repurposed from wreckage, and highly coveted and expensive quarried stone for the rich, and you had a serious eyesore of a town.

Worse, it was totally haunted. There was no way you dug up an entire cemetery and didn’t get ghosts!

Sure, nobody he knew had ever seen anything, but everybody knew a friend of a friend who had disappeared one night, taken by the ghosts.

Technically there were plenty of people who disappeared here that weren’t taken by ghosts, and their guts and belongings ended up traded in the back alleys for favors, but some of them were definitely ghosts. Had to be! With that many stories of them around it had to be true, was Brock’s analysis.

And the place wasn’t just haunted, it was dangerous. There was no real law in Low Binding except ‘Don’t fight out in the open and don’t rile up the Highbinders.’

Which wasn’t a huge deal, not really, but it did mean that Bastard couldn’t get stupid drunk. He could get a little drunk but not stupid drunk. Stupid drunk people got sold for their meat if they didn’t have buddies to watch their backs, and Bastard didn’t have buddies.

Well, none that he trusted to watch his back. But there were a few good enough to drink with. Just not to stupid drunk levels.

Tallet was one of those guys. The backwoods hick turned out to be pretty good company, and he’d dragged along another of the mercs, a guy called Spaz.

Spaz maybe wasn’t good buddy material, but he was fun to watch. He had a condition where he started cursing for no good reason, voice rising and falling as he tried to reign it in. That made Tallet and Bastard laugh and buy him drinks, so maybe he wasn’t trying as hard as he could be to reign it in, but that was fine. They were all flush with pay from the first part of the contract, so the drinks flowed freely, and so did Spaz’s tongue.

It had been fun for a while, but now it was starting to pall. And Spaz was getting them glared at from the tables around them. Normally Bastard didn’t care about that, but this was the nicest bar he’d found in the Low Binding.

They were in The Shop. A long time ago it had been some sort of hospital for machines, at the edge of the cemetery. Now it was a hospital for people whose throats were too dry, and the treatment was always alcohol. For medical purposes.

Bastard thought that was clever and tried to explain it to Tallet and Spaz, but neither of them knew what a hospital was. So then he had to go and explain that, and midway through, the door opened, and a real beauty came in.

Oh, there were women around the bar. Desperate, dolled up, with lines of hard living and eyes that could tell the amount of scrip in your pocket with a glance. They found their marks and led them down the stairs to the grease pits down below after letting drink marinate them enough. They did steady business, especially when mercs were in from a job, and Bastard couldn’t grudge them that. Hell, he’d drained his balls a few times with them or women like them over the last few nights.

But the one who walked in? She was lean and muscled, and untouched by makeup, and she moved like a bobcat on the prowl. She stood there as the bar fell silent and looked her over, and she looked them right back, meeting eyes that slid away and those that didn’t with equal coolness.

“Shitshitshitshitfuck!” Spaz yelled, and the bar burst into nervous laughter... but the woman didn’t move until the laughter died down, finding her way over to the bartender and whispering a few words. Bastard watched coin change hands, and a finger point his way.

“That’s a mouthful and a half,” Tallet said, as she made her way back to them. “Think she’d give a group discount?”

“Ain’t that kind of girl,” Bastard said.

There weren’t that many reasons for the bartender to point her towards them. Not unless she was a bounty hunter and the assholes who ran Bastard’s hometown had suddenly come into a lot more money, or one of his drinking companions had trouble they hadn’t told him about. But the third reason was far more likely.

And sure enough, she slid into the chair between Bastard and Spaz and stared at Tallet. “The ba’tenda tells me you raid with Yulian.”

“He told you right—” Tallet started.

And then she coughed. No, she roared, breath rushing out of her in great, heaving hacks.

“Fuckinghellshitshitshit gaaaaaaaaa,” Spaz bleated and made a show of pounding her side. Only his hand was open, and Bastard had his suspicions that maybe he was trying to get a grope or two in.

He didn’t get far. She slapped his hand away, and closed her mouth, swallowing the sickness. Motion drew his eyes, and Bastard considered the metal earrings she wore... silvery but smeared with mud in a way that cut the gleam. That was deliberate, and he approved.

“He told you right, cause we’re with Yulian,” Tallet said when she was done. “What’s it to you?”

“I want to raid with Yulian. And you,” she threw in, almost as an afterthought.

The group looked at each other. Then back to her.

“Cough like that means you won’t be shit on stealthwork,” Tallet said.

“Stealthy part’s over,” Bastard countered, and Tallet’s gaze jerked to him, surprised. Bastard waved a hand. “She wants to put her body ’twixt us and bullets, don’t matter if it’s coughing.”

“I want to put her body twixt us,” Spaz managed to say without too many random howls, and the woman scooted away from him with a frown.

He scooted his chair closer...

And her heel caught him square in the crotch.

Bastard howled with laughter as Spaz doubled over. Tallet paused, then bellowed along with him, and the bar froze as Spaz rolled around on the cracked concrete floor, exploding with noises that sounded like donkeys fucking.

But a kick was a kick, and out of the corner of his eye, Bastard saw the mean drunks grinning and rising and knew that a brawl was coming—

The gunshot took them all by surprise, and in the echoing blast, the bar was silent.

“Who started it?” the bartender asked. “Who the fuck started it?”

A pause...

“He did,” Bastard thumbed towards Spaz, and the sobbing man stared up with hot and angry eyes at the betrayal.

Have to watch my back ’round that one, Bastard thought. Ah well, Spaz had been starting to grate on him anyway. He’d been funny the first hour or two, but his thing got old fast.

This woman now, she was a mite easier on the eyes at least, and as two big assholes dragged the incoherently protesting form of Spaz outside, she moved her chair around so she was equal distance from Bastard and Tallet.

“Your cough means you’ll be shit at stealthwork,” Tallet said, mind still stuck on it. “You even fire a gun before?”

“No.”

“What are you good at?”

She shrunk, just a little. “Stealthwork.”

The two men looked at each other.

“I’ve been doing fine with the cough,” she said. “I have drugs. They hold it at bay when I need to be silent. But I need money for more drugs.”

“Mission’s half over,” Bastard said. “We just got back from the job a couple days ago. Pay’s not great, and this’ll be hard in, no way people won’t be shooting at us. There’ll be some stealthwork, but it’s gonna be gunplay too.”

“I have one. I traded for it earlier.”

And she almost got herself shot right then and there as she reached into her leather vest and started to draw.

Two minutes later, after they’d stopped her and sent her back to the bar, Bastard was huddled with Tallet, talking over her potential.

“She’s greener than I was when I came out of the Smokers,” Tallet said.

“You came that far? Damn.” Bastard was impressed despite himself. That was a lot of country between here and there. “And yeah, she’s green, but she handled herself fine with your friend.” Bastard jerked a hand to Spaz’s empty chair.

“Not a friend. More like one of those guys you feel bad for, so you give ’em a shot,” Tallet frowned. “Which is what I think you’re thinking about her.”

“Nah. I don’t feel bad for her,” Bastard shrugged. “But she does have a fine ass, and if she wants to get it shot off that’s her business. If she doesn’t catch a bullet, then maybe I can check out that ass myself later, y’know?” he grinned.

“You should just pay for it with one of the whores. Simpler that way,” Tallet snorted.

It was. And that’s how Bastard usually did things...

But Bastard liked the way she moved, and the simple fact was they were going into some heavy shit in the days to come, and he’d meant what he said about another body ’twixt him and bullets. What he’d told Tallet was more an excuse than anything else really... but it wasn’t entirely untrue. Bastard could be patient when he wanted to be. If something came from it, great. If not...

His eyes went to the line of painted ladies at the bar. If not, then they would be here waiting for him.

“Hey girl!” He called to the woman, waving her back over. “You’re in. What’s your name?”

“Donna. It’s Donna.”

Two days later, Donna was the only one not groaning and mourning their feet and ragged boots at the end of the hard march. Which made Bastard hate her, just a little. But he hated her less when Yulian assigned her to scout out and see what she could see.

Two days they’d been marching, straight into Jaspa territory. They didn’t dare take the rough roads but stuck to the cut areas and the lighter wilds. They were a hundred strong, just like the crew five miles to the west that was moving parallel to them.

They’d made it past the first two burned out forts and seen nary a trace of Jaspa. Just abandoned watch posts and empty shelters. But there were fires in the night whenever they rested, out miles past Yulian’s pickets. The Jaspa were watching, and they were letting the mercs know they were watching.

Midway through the night, Bastard jerked awake. His bladder was irking him, and he headed out to take a piss.

And damned if he didn’t see something moving around Yulian’s tent. He started to yell, then paused. Yulian’s tent was lit up, and he could see forms inside, hear the faint whisper of low conversation. If it was an ambush, it’d be a foolhardy one. Yulian awake was Yulian in armor. Odds were bad any way you cut it.

So instead, Bastard crept closer... and froze as the figure whirled around to face him.

Donna’s eyes shown in the moonlight. She wore some kind of mask. Bastard paused, and his eyes tracked from her mask to the knife in her hand. A knife that she stowed, as she waved him over.

Shrugging, he joined her. He ached to piss, but when a beauty asked you to join her in the moonlight, you didn’t say no.

And as he got up to her, moving as quietly as he could, he could hear Yulian talking.

“The fact they haven’t attacked us yet means that they’re open to negotiation. This is right before winter and they’ll need to bring the harvest in or they’ll starve. They’ve raided out everyone within easy reach, so it’s feast or famine, literally.”

A crackle, and a hiss, and a tinny voice replied. “Will your employers be satisfied with this?”

“Yes. They’re expecting it. I’ve got a set of negotiation points, if the Jaspa show that they’re amenable. That’s the best case option, and it’ll let me get back after Subject Theta. I estimate an eighty percent capture chance if I can move in two days.”

“Can you move in one?” The tinny voice crackled.

“Negative. It’ll take us a day to get to Homesford. If they want to negotiate they’ll meet us there, otherwise they’ll have to cede the town. That’s right in the middle of one of their farm hubs, so they won’t cede the town. It’s talk or fight there. I have to be at Homesford, I can’t break to go after Theta until that’s settled.”

“He won’t be happy with that.”

 Yulian snorted. “He’s not out here in the field. He’s not stuck trying to keep good relations with the Knth’yss. The world will keep turning regardless of when we grab Theta. We can’t jeopardize our relationship for a short-term goal, no matter how big it is.”

“All right then. At Homesford. try to negotiate, fulfill your contract. But if they don’t...”

“If they don’t then it’s full-on war, and I’m in the field for at least another few weeks. In which case, those agents I recruited might be able to do the trick.”

There was a bit more talk, but nothing that made a lick of sense to Bastard. And then Yulian said “Over and out,” and the tent fell silent.

And Bastard realized that he was stuck.

Yulian was a sharp one, and he had that helmet. He had good hearing, and Bastard was way, way too close to his tent. If he moved, then the guy would hear him.

He looked to Donna.

Donna blinked and nodded. She pulled her mask off, stowed it in her pocket, then pointed back at the ring of tents. Then she started walking up, making no attempt to hide. “Sir?” she called. “I have finished scouting.”

Bastard didn’t need to be told twice. Though he did detour to the latrine pit, feeling the tension ease out of him with the piss.

The girl had guts. Maybe not smarts, but guts.

By sheer chance he caught her leaving as he was heading back to his bedroll. She gave him an even look, and he returned it.

Bastard looked toward his bedroll, raised an eyebrow at her, and smiled.

She shook her head, tugged an earring, and vanished into the night.

It was a cold night. And a thought tickled at his mind as he nodded off to a lonely sleep.

Donna had finished her scouting run. She’d been out all night. Why was she out there again?

 But Bastard was a simple man and come the morning he’d forgotten it.

Homeford was built on a river, with a single bridge across and spiky wood barriers along the far bank. A low palisade rose beyond, with one and two-story buildings encircled and guarded within.

And there were the Jaspa that they hadn’t been seeing on the way up, all gathered on the palisade, with bows and guns and who knew what else, all black leather and bald heads and glares.

“Hold up,” Yulian said and walked out alone, walked out onto the gravel road that led up to the bridge. “If there’s treachery, light them up.”

And as he went, the mercs let out a collective breath as a fat man, carried on a palanquin, was borne out of the gate on the opposite side. His palanquin bore a white flag, and Bastard sighed with relief. Parley. We’ll be able to go back without a fight.

Motion to his side and Bastard whirled, to see Donna slinking into the underbrush. The hell?

Then his eye caught a flash in the sky. A familiar looking blur of motion, high up. He recalled the smoke of the fire from that first fort and shouted a warning.

The company was on edge already. Guns came up.

Shouts came from across the river, and the Jaspa man’s palanquin paused. The man himself struggled up, shouting back, waving his hands at his own wall.

Bastard yelled more, pointed up, jerked his pistol out...

...too late.

“Stand down!” Yulian yelled, raising his hand.

But as he did, the blur of motion plummeted toward the palanquin like a metal hawk on the wing.

The explosion took them all by surprise.

Silence from the town.

Silence from the mercs.

Silence from Yulian, as he stared at the palanquin that had been blown dozens of feet away, and the crumpled forms around it.

And then the arrows began to fall like rain...

THIRTEEN

My view turned white, and I found myself back in my new body.

“Mission complete,” I told Rauph, and he smiled back at my inflexible face.

The drone had done its work, delivering Hiram’s first rigged stick of TNT to its destination.

Peace was no longer an option for my foes. I’d bought the most precious of things— time, at the cost of a single properly placed explosion.

“And what of Donna?” Marb asked.

I flicked my mind over to her. “Away safely. They were out of arrow range... except for Yulian. Though I can’t imagine his armor would be weak to a few bodkins and broadheads. The guns might give him some trouble, but I doubt we’ll get that lucky.”

“Then we’re on to the fourth plan you told us? Or maybe the fifth?” Rauph rubbed his forehead where the tac-rig was probably chafing him. I’d had to very carefully put an extra hole in its band to get it around his head. One size didn’t always fit all, no matter what the schematics said.

“Fourth,” I confirmed. “This is the easy one. All we need to do is walk casually.”

I saw recognition in their faces. Recognition and wariness.

“That’s still relying on them to let us go,” Rauph said.

“You’re not wrong, but I don’t see a reason for them to stop us. They might follow us, but I don’t see that they’ll stop us.”

“How long do you need to prepare?” Ever-practical-Marb wanted to know.

“Not long. Less if you help me reconfigure.” At the blank look, I clarified. “I need someone to help me swap out some parts.”

The benefit of modular construction was that it was easy enough for me to take the mostly unused abdominal space of the personal interaction drone, and put a storage compartment into it. In went two recon drones, and the second stick of TNT that we’d made. Blasting cap stored separately, of course. I had no desire to trip and go all to pieces.

Along with the drones went a spare battery, and my allies would be carrying one more with them. This would be a trip that would take days, at best.

But it was necessary.

I watched through my camera as Rauph said farewell to Marga and turned my cameras away when they got affectionate. I’d been doing a lot of that, lately. With a safe, warm, comfortable living area people were doing what people did at night. But I no longer had glands, and I found my voyeuristic tendencies were much reduced without them.

Marb had no one he wanted to bid farewell, so I had him help me with my disguise. It wasn’t much as it went, a hooded robe that the infirm members of the tribe threw together over the last day and a half and some padding to make it look like there was a human under there. And a bottle of scent to make me smell sweaty and mask the artificial odors.

Then we set out. Rauph had one of the rare rifles and a small pouch of ammunition. Marb had his bow, and both had the long, wide blades they called ‘Chetties,’ and the folk of an earlier era would have called machetes.

I’d borrowed one of those, too. This drone didn’t quite have the coordination for a bow, or the recoil compensation for a rifle, but it was about as strong as an average man and I knew my way around swords and knives well enough.

Hopefully we wouldn’t need those weapons, but I knew the odds on that were low. Fifty miles was fifty miles, and we’d be walking.

We left through the second entrance, the one that the Zoo Crew was watching. Since my disastrous attempt at cutting corners and saving time and feedstock had backfired, I had come to realize that having only one entrance was a serious weakness. If the Jaspa had used their TNT to collapse my entrance during their raids, then I would have shut down and they could have dug back in and picked me apart at their leisure.

The fact that they hadn’t meant that this particular weakness wasn’t commonly known.

But from Yulian’s interest in me, and his radio discussion with an unknown faction, I had to assume that they knew more about cores than the Jaspa did. So I’d constructed a secret entrance. We had the space to do that, now. I’d added a few more curving corridors and rooms, in preparation for the inevitable siege.

I’d bought us time with the fiery demise of peace, and I had plans to grow and set up traps and tricks and problems for Yulian and his merry crew.

I knew, though, that it would not be enough.

Not unless I managed to undo what I’d done with my blunder, and reawaken my Core. I needed the growth, I needed the subroutines and improvements that would grant me access to schematics capable of bringing down a man in powered armor. And I needed them as fast as possible.

Reformatting the core would let me resume my growth, but probably at the cost of my existing growth. And possibly having the side effect of shutting me off permanently. I wasn’t sure if my current state of consciousness would continue through that operation.

Probably. Possibly. And other words ending in -ly that I hated. I didn’t have certainty, and I needed that. I needed an ARGUS.

As we moved through the surrounding forest, I sent the remaining recon drone up high, looking around.

The perimeter was still there; the bit of it I could see, anyway. Mixed, inhuman forms in a loose picket about half a mile back from our main entrance. They didn’t interfere with the tribe’s hunting or daily business. They just watched and moved aside when our people got too close.

They’d made an effort to remain hidden, up until they realized that I had recon drones in the air. After that, the bigger ones didn’t bother hiding. We knew they were here; they knew we knew, and so they were content to maintain the status quo.

And after we crossed the perimeter and headed north through the woods, I watched a few ’birds’ flutter between various points of the perimeter. The smaller animal-folk carried messages up and down the line. It was a fairly effective system, as they went.

It also told me that they didn’t have a lot of technology to spare. Even simple walkie-talkies would have been an improvement...

...although, now that I thought of it, I was underestimating them. They could be expecting me to notice nearby radio bands. And Yulian had mentioned something about contacting them by radio, in that hour-long conference. No, I couldn’t write off their technological capabilities, or underestimate them in any serious way. The moment I did that, I would be falling into the trap that had doomed so many of my enemies.

I was well aware of my own arrogance; pride and spite would keep me going, but they could bring me down in a heartbeat if I relaxed my guard.

Twenty minutes later I watched a large shape move out of the picket line. “The horse girl is on our trail,” I told my scouts.

They shared a solemn glance, and Rauph put a hand back to his rifle. Just a touch, to make sure it was sitting right and easily drawn if it came down to it. I had done that myself, many times long ago, I knew. Though my memory scattered the second I tried to pin it down, as it always did.

I didn’t mind. There were three of us and one of her, and she had no reason to attack us. It was enough for now to know that she was back there.

Animals scattered from us as we went but nothing large. My adopted tribe had cleaned out most of the game for a good distance, and the predators had moved on to other hunting grounds. Nonetheless we took it slow, freezing every time the brush shook to something larger than a squirrel.

Soon enough we cleared the explored part of the woods. I sent the recon drone back to its loops, as much to be seen by the pickets as to provide any real surveillance. I wanted the Zoo Crew to think this wasn’t too major of an occurrence.

And in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t, really. Not unless my drone ended up destroyed, and even in that case I might be able to jump into a different drone.

Might.

Once we were in unfamiliar terrain, the scouts slowed down, with Marb scouting ahead and Rauph bringing up the rear. I did my best to move quietly, but the drone wasn’t built for it, and whatever talents I had, woodscraft wasn’t among them. Several times Rauph had to hiss at me to be still, when something moved in the trees.

But as it turned out, my surroundings were the least of my worries.

Four hours into the trip, my watcher programs flared to life. Trouble in the base!

I whipped a metal hand up to stop Rauph and called a low command to Marb. And checking the cameras, I felt my heart sink.

“What is it?” Marb came back, concern on his chubby, bearded face.

I debated it, weighed the pros and cons of telling them. A part of me was tempted to withhold it, lie and say that I’d seen something in the distance... but no.

I may be a soulless, pragmatic machine, but I had been a man once, and I knew that a lie here would be unforgivable.

“It’s Cade,” I told them, as the wind whistled through the trees, and brown autumn leaves fell to the cold dirt. “He just collapsed.”

I watched their faces as hope started to die within them, and knew that whatever else I’d survived, whatever I’d overcome to this point, it might just be all for naught if this went badly...

FOURTEEN

Two tense hours later, I had a verdict for my very concerned guides.

“He’s alive. But he won’t wake up any time soon,” I told Rauph and Marb. “He’s resting and that’s the best thing for him right now.”

The tension eased from the clearing but wasn’t completely gone. The two looked at each other and nodded.

“We will keep going then,” Rauph told me. “But if he gets worse, we must go back. I will not be away from his side when death takes him.”

For a moment I considered that I was the sole link and arbiter of news between hither and thither. But only a moment. Assuming we all survived the trip intact, he’d find out about any attempts to conceal information from him upon the return.

And if Cade did end up dead, then Rauph could very well be the next leader. In which case I’d be starting out on the wrong foot with him during a crucial time.

Politics was a horrible but necessary evil. The only course left to me was to push on as far and as fast as possible, to finish this little ‘quest’ before Cade got any worse.

All my hopes were riding on another, and that did not please me. I’d had to do this once before, and Cade had come through. But this was asking much.

We pushed on north, and once we could no longer see the mountain range to the east we put our backs to the setting sun. These were the empty places, the wilds that had reclaimed a fallen land. Foundations and clear spots in the scrub were the only sign of man’s presence, save for the occasional shards of crumbled roads that ran from nowhere to nothing, heaps of rust breaking up their scattered, shattered, sharded monotony.

We camped that night in the shell of a long strip of building that had probably housed shops of some sort. Now it housed us and was probably the best we could do without daring a fire. Rauph and Marb broke out the hard rations and canteens, and I waited, still and standing, to preserve charge.

I took the darkest part of the night for my watch, steeling myself to avoid checking back in on the bunker every few minutes. That would burn up my energy faster, and we’d already had an unexpected two-hour pause in the middle of things.

Somewhere past midnight, rubble shifted near us. Then under us.

I spun my circuits up and turned, staring at the noise, then relaxing a bit as something that was probably a raccoon fled for its life. But the place it had fled from revealed a hollow under a set of fallen shelves.

I removed the padding and robe and the contents of my cargo compartment, and lowered myself down inside, turning on the lights that were standard for this model as I went. The glow wasn’t much, but it was enough to see that this had been a basement back in the day. Now it was a basement full of skeletons, bones cracked for their marrow and the turds of scavengers their burial shrouds.

What is one more scavenger to them? I thought, and lacking a reason not to, I hunted through the remains.

The gun was more plastic than metal, which was probably the only reason it had survived. Small, about a thirty-eight caliber but no make I recognized. But the basic mechanisms hadn’t changed, and the magazine release still did its thing. The bullets were bad, I could tell that at a glance, and the whole thing would need cleaning before use, but I thought it might work given some repair.

It had certainly worked to put a hole in the head of the dead man who’d turned it on himself, and I dropped his fingerbones back on the remnants of his sternum without much concern. I had neither belief or fear of ghosts, and anyone who’d checked themselves out like this would be unlikely to come back to haunt me anyway.

I stowed the gun in my compartment, clambered up out of the hole, and with slow, careful work I re-packed my cargo and put my disguise back on. I didn’t have a reason to hide the pistol from my guides, but some instinct told me that there was little to be gained by sharing the bounty. We didn’t have any good bullets for the pistol anyway, so until I got it back home and started working on a way to circumvent a few safety protocols, it was a glorified paperweight.

The rest of the night was quiet, and I watched my guides sleep with envy. The worst part of my current state, the thing I missed the most, was the fact I couldn’t dream anymore. Perhaps there was an app for that. If the Redberry Argus survived, I would ask him about it.

East then, into the rising sun. I could compensate, my visual panels had limited polarization, but my guides weren’t as lucky.

Still, our goal wasn’t far.

“The Eye Ninety-five,” Rauph said, pointing.

A skeleton of metal and concrete and plasteel rose a good quarter mile in the air, silhouetted black against the merciless sun. I could see vehicles up there, relatively intact compared to the ones around home.

And beyond it lay the northern edge of city, and beyond that the merciless, rolling ocean.

We weren’t going to walk up on the elevated highway, of course. Not only would that be putting up a big target in front of Tyr, but the thing had spent over a century decaying. I could see big gaps over where the highway dipped low into the city and had no desire to add new irregularities to its length. It was more landmark than route, really.

They led me along towards the mid-point of our journey. Twice we stopped as round drones whined overhead. Tyr’s eyes. The tribe called them screamers, and they would kill anyone they found on sight, and report thornier problems back to folks who had heavier ordnance.

We crept past cracked and broken homes, down empty streets, and under the vast skeleton of the highway. Past all that, over to where an iron gate stood, more rust than metal, the letters remaining proclaiming ‘RCADIA’ to the world.

Rauph and Marb knelt for a second at the gate, and I watched their lips move. An old rite, one that I couldn’t share. Wouldn’t share, most likely. I didn’t kneel without a damned good reason.

After a time, they rose, and Rauph’s face was wistful, eyes lost in memory. “Fourteen years back we came here. Nine years we followed the prophet to this place. It sheltered us well and good.”

“Until it couldn’t anymore,” Marb said, scanning the skies. “We were lucky to get to this point without notice. We should get inside, now.”

I saw no reason to dispute the point, and we slipped past the fallen gate and towards the deeper part of the still-wooded grove. There was a church back there, one of those big brick ones that sprawled out over a half-acre with three or four structures making up the overall compound.

The largest one looked crumbled and worn down on the outside, but once we were through one of the looming, dark doorways and my guides broke out the flashlights I’d made for them, I could see the interior was another story altogether. Clean, cared for, and obviously inhabited at some point.

There’s something about an empty church. Oh, the pews were long gone, and the altar’s spot was bare, but it still had that vibe. I believed in no god, but I did respect the works of motivated men, and they had built this place with reverence and vision. It had done its job well, sheltering the needy during their time of trouble.

That was my job now. But this empty place could provide one more bit of aid for its faithful.

“Where did you keep them?” I asked Marb.

“In the small room, over here.”

Once it had likely held chalkboards and holiday decorations and things of a similar ilk.

Now every inch of it was covered with fabrics and scraps of metal linked to rubber, and random junk that had been combined into bulky garments that resembled small tents.

“You didn’t take these with you when you moved?” I asked. That was a lot of material, a lot of metal.

Rauph shook his head. “They were too heavy, too bulky. Other things were more important. Juscade said you would provide a better solution if we needed them again.” His face was neutral as he glanced to me. Carefully neutral.

“If I had more time, perhaps,” I said.

“Also, we didn’t think we’d need to go back in the glowlands,” Marb admitted.

It took hours to get the layers sorted out, and I needed help getting the buckles cinched as we garbed ourselves in the lowest-tech hazard suits I’d ever seen. Before I was completely sealed up, I took the chance to change my battery for a fresh one. We were going into the unknown, and I didn’t know when I could safely disrobe.

By the time it was done we had added inches to our girth, and through the faceplates I could see that my organic comrades were sweating like horses.

Horses... the thought took me back to our tail. Then I recalled the screamers and shook my head. No, there was no reason for her to follow us this far out. And even if she had, then our next leg of the journey would discourage her pursuit.

Finally, with the sun high in the sky and the Screamers away for the minute, we broke cover and waddled north, following the skeleton of the highway.

Urban blight gave way to patchy woods, and to my eye it didn’t look any different than what we’d been moving through a day ago. Up until it didn’t.

We came up on a small hill, and what we looked down upon was chaos.

Twisted trees grew sideways, branches sprawling out like grasping hands, some twitching. A smattering of multi-colored leaves grew from them, various patterns seeming to compete through the foliage. Something that had started life as kudzu reigned over all, though there were patches around some of the brighter colors that seemed almost charred.

Vehicles lay here and there, some fallen from above, and others on local roads. Steam rose from them, and I saw bluish-purplish lights pulsing and writhing within still-intact windows.

“The red and orange patches are bad for men and other living things,” Marb explained. “The blue ones cling to metal and some plastics.”

“And the green and yellow?” I wondered.

“We have never tested them,” Rauph grimaced. “We didn’t mean to test the others to be truthful. Red and orange and blue are what have troubled us before, is all.”

“It’s not always so, either,” Marb said. “I lost a friend when blue shine got into his eyes. It didn’t eat the metal mask he was wearing, just his face.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, like he was discussing the weather. I saw Rauph’s face fall a bit at the memory, though.

Marb was made of different stuff than most of the tribe. Probably the reason that he had gone for the relatively solitary jobs of hunter and scout.

“Color doesn’t always dictate appetite,” I said, and it made sense. Nanotech was widespread before the fall, and with removal of the safeguards, the various strains had combined and spread in ways never intended. The visual effects were mainly dyes to show that it was present, an artificial way of showing humans that a spill had occurred. But there was no uniformity between the colors, and some had doubtless mutated or changed hue during their evolution.

We left the hellscape as it was, and started poking around, trying to find an untainted way through. Those were few and far between, and Rauph shook his head an hour later. “The ways we used to hunt up here are almost shut. We’re going to have to chance some of the thinner patches.”

We moved through as best we could, shuffle-running through one of the red patches, then unstrapping the leathery waders that were the outer layer, leaving them discarded behind us and checking each other over to make sure nothing had eaten or spread to the layer below.

“This is the Hunter’s Height,” Rauph said, indicating the hilltop full of dead trees. “The shine that used to occupy it faded out months back, and nothing has yet found this place appetizing. It goes on for a few miles, but after that we’ll have to deal with some twisting paths. It’s also untamed land, so we’ll have to keep an eye out for predators and mutants.”

I remembered the tazzel worm, the giant crocodile that had wandered into my old lair. We had one gun between us, and I had no illusions how a fight against something like that would end. “Lay on, Macduff,” I told him. “And we’ll see what comes.”

What came was a thorough surprise, as we rested a few miles later at the end of the Hunter’s Height. I happened to be looking behind us, when she trotted into view at the edge of the horizon.

“We’ll I’ll be a damned,” I told the others. “That’s a horse of a different color.”

We went to ground and watched her crest the rise. She had to have come the way we did. And unlike us, she wasn’t wearing twelve layers of disposable protection.

Once she was out of sight, we pressed on. I had learned something valuable, there. She didn’t fear shine.

I had known that the zoo crew had some sort of treatment, something they had used to decontaminate Kagan and save his life. I hadn’t known that it was portable, and plentiful enough to spare on a recon trip like ours.

That had potential. That meant they had something to trade. They could save me months, possibly years of work depending on the complexity of the problem.

Something didn’t fit, though.

If they could counter shine so easily, then why the hell couldn’t they make their own immune-suppressant pills? The technology required for those would have to be simpler.

This, this was a thought and a tangent for another time, though. We focused on the wilds ahead of us, waded through another band of shine— purple this time, and ditched two layers when we found that the stuff had seeped through the first like it was cheesecloth.

Fortunately it didn’t like the rubber coating of the third. Much lighter, we resumed our march, up until we reached a bend of the highway that was still relatively intact. Marb and Rauph conferred, then started shedding their shine suits.

“Are we through?”

“Yes,” Rauph confirmed. “The radiation stops it from spreading here.”

I had thought that the flickering in my visual receptors was a trick of the light. Now I knew it for something more sinister. I made haste to remove my own layers, and together we cached them under a pile of dead branches. No way to stop our pursuer from finding them, but hopefully she’d pay them no heed.

The trip had drained a hell of a lot of charge, so I swapped back to my original battery before we proceeded, jogging at a light pace through empty woods, following an overgrown road. Rauph consulted the map in the fading light, steering us past eerily-preserved buildings.

“There,” I told them as we moved past the remnants of a small housing development. The static in my eyes had mostly gone now, down to a fleck every few minutes, and a bright orange band of shine stretched across the streets before us.

And beyond it, illuminated by the last fading rays from the west, were broken walls. Beyond them fields, streaked with orange and yellow. And beyond those, a central cylinder with smaller cylinders around it.

The Redberry Agrofarm.

“We camp here,” Rauph said.

“You camp here,” I clarified. “I’ll go ahead. We’ve got the cavalry coming behind us, and we’re the indians in this little scenario.”

Rauph stared from me to the shine, then back again. “You are gambling. You are betting that will not catch on metal.”

“Only to a point.” I opened my compartment, and pulled out a recon drone. “These are disposable if it comes down to it, and made from mostly the same stuff. And they’ll let me know if it’s worth going in there in the first place.”

My faithful guide grunted, and looked away. Then he looked back, worry writ plain across his face. “Can you check on Juscade? Before you do this?”

“I can.”

It took a fair amount of charge, but I got a connection. If I hadn’t increased my broadcast subroutines, then we would have been out of luck. But for once my preparation had paid off when we needed it to. For once, fortune had gone my way.

That feeling lasted until I saw the alerts waiting for me. I took a full minute to download and ponder them, letting the implications sink through my systems.

“Cade is stable,” I told them, “But he hasn’t woken up yet. The machines I set up to analyze him think it was a stroke. I won’t lie, he may or may not recover.”

That was the good news. I weighed my options for a moment, decided that telling them the next piece of news probably wouldn’t hurt matters.

“Randa’s gone rogue,” I said, and Marb groaned in disappointment. I continued on, holding up a hand. “My sensors caught her doing suspicious activity a few hours ago. Then she grabbed her two lackeys and headed out.”

“Damn it!” Rauph slapped his knee. “There’s nothing we can do about this.”

“You? No,” I said, as I activated the speakers back in the base, and triggered a timed lockdown. “Me? Plenty.”

Part of that was bravado, though. The horse that wasn’t following us had fled the barn, and it didn’t take a prophet to see what was coming. With me gone from the site and Cade down, now was an optimal time for the zoo crew to seize the initiative.

And I didn’t know if my lockdown would be enough to weather the storm to come.

FIFTEEN

I hadn’t realized it at the time, I had been tempting fate when I thought about storms. I got perhaps an hour of reconnaissance in before the heavens opened up and the water came down.

Fortunately the camp that night was in a fairly sheltered spot, and I fed branches into the fire steadily to keep my companions warm. I wasn’t built to feel temperatures, but I could tell they weren’t having a fun time of it. Cold autumn rains were a thing I didn’t miss, I rather thought.

Only an hour with the recon drones, but it showed me what I wanted to know.

The Jaspa had come to Redberry all right. They either didn’t have explosives at the time or declined to use them in the assault, but they had cracked the fences with heavy stones that were probably thrown by small siege engines, then swarmed in with fire and sword. The fields still showed charred marks from a decade ago, black patches that the shine didn’t intrude upon.

That gave me hope. Ash was a cornucopia of chemical resources, and the fact that the orange stuff wasn’t happily chewing away at it meant that the stuff in there had a preference for living things. Either that or they’d leached out all the good nutrients already.

More tests were in order.

The rain eased shortly before daybreak, and I aimed the drone toward the largest patch of wispy orange and descended into the miasma.

There were bones down there in the soil, I saw. Bones overgrown by twisted, sparkling vines. In the ground, root traceries showed through in bright yellow.

If I had to guess, I’d say that the plants’ pollination capabilities had been co-opted, turned into organic diffusers for whatever strain of rogue nanotech used them as hosts.

The bones weren’t shining, though, just surrounded by the pollen-like orange clouds. They had perhaps been useful to the stuff in life, but worthless in death. So far this was encouraging.

I fired up the drone’s rotors again and moved it away, then dunked it in a puddle to rinse off any lingering pollen. Then I sat it in on a nearby crumbled wall and waited.

My guides had taught me that shine infections couldn’t be rinsed away, that once it got into something that could host it, the glow would always return. In the few hours between parking the drone and my friends’ awakening, the glow didn’t come back. The drone reported no anomalies. And a brief test flight went just fine.

I caught a glimpse of a brown, many-legged form on the way down. Our tail had shacked up about a mile back, behind the housing development. From the brief look I got, I couldn’t see any glow on her either. We had so much in common.

I put the drone on a roof and left it there. It seemed clear of the shine, but I didn’t want to risk exposing my guides to the orange stuff.

“So, what now?” Rauph asked, while Marb hauled out pots and started in on breakfast.

“Now you wait here,” I told them. “And I walk in there and see if this has been a worthwhile trip.”

They didn’t like that notion much.

They liked it less when I checked back in on the base at their request and found out that the alternative exit had taken some damage. Everyone was fine, hunkered down in major rooms of the complex, and Cade hadn’t changed, but we definitely had rats trying to gnaw their way in.

Maybe literally, now that I thought of it. I didn’t know what the animal-folk could bring to the table. But we were on the clock now, and I had to hurry.

Rauph settled in at the camp, watching back the way we’d come to make sure our equine friend stayed distant. Marb stationed himself up in the remnants of a two-story building, watching the front gate of the Redberry complex.

And I walked straight in.

Glowing plants squished underfoot, as I slogged through mud and puddles. At least the rain had taken most of the pollen out of the air. It would be back soon enough, I knew.

We slunk past the outer sheds, all of which had broken doors or big holes in the side. Well-looted, and I saw no reason to stop. If Cade was correct, what I wanted was further in.

The central building resembled nothing so much as a cylinder standing straight up out of the dirt. Sandbags and rusty ordnance showed where the defenders had made their last stand.

But the door into the place was still intact. Scarred, battered, but still whole. And the blast shutters sealing off the windows of the ground floor were an unbroken series of black rectangles.

I had found the place. Now how to get inside?

Fortunately, I still had the recon drone. And a flyover in daylight showed that one of the upper windows had slid out of the frame.

It was a hell of a climb, in a body that hadn’t been made for such things. But I was light and determined, and the place hadn’t been secured against climbers. It wasn’t a fortress, it was a farm, even if the survivors had sealed it off and made it their sanctuary.

I walked through dusty halls, past the smell of rot. Only a bit of orange glow had made its way inside here, evident in the seams of mold and vines that wound throughout like strands of Christmas lights, all in the yellow-to-orange spectrum. Working from the top down, I searched without quite knowing what I was looking for. I was here to retrieve an Argus, but my old friend had been a strictly digital being, inhabiting only software but I hadn’t found a single active electronic device. Cade had said this one had a robotic shell, though, so there was some hope. It had been years, but I didn’t know what this place had for power. A reactor, maybe? If so, there was a chance Argus had shutdown non-essential functions and kept things ready for his return.

Towards the center of the building, in what had once been a hydroponics room, I found familiar shapes and rejoiced. Gun lockers and safes really hadn’t changed much throughout the years.

Unfortunately, locks had. The buttons on the outside didn’t respond to my touch. Without power, and some access codes on top of that, I didn’t see a way inside to whatever goodies might survive.

There were a few useful things around, though. A cleaning kit proved handy for getting the age of centuries off the pistol I’d salvaged. And from a few ammo boxes on the shelves around the safes, I was able to find a caliber that seemed like it might fit my pistol. That was good for two magazines worth. I didn’t quite trust the surviving magazine, even after cleaning, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. With a moderately more useful weapon in my possession, I resumed my search.

It was a strange feeling, picking through the remnants of so many lives. About eighty people had called this place home, judging by the living spaces I passed through that were filled with small mementos: faded bits of paper, little arts and crafts that had clearly been created for fun, rather than survival. Faded drawings on walls, colored wax streaked on construction paper bore witness to the fact that children had been here.

This had been a place for living. And I lost the urge to investigate the bones further. Some of them would be small, I had a feeling, and I wasn’t in the mood to muse further upon tragedy tonight.

Still, the aura of the place was inescapable. Failure. Ruin. The farmers had made a desperate attempt to beat their plowshares back into swords and had reaped a bitter harvest.

In the lower levels, my investigation bore fruit. A flickering light gave me hope. A single LED-equivalent in the wall... I still didn’t know the proper name for that type of light. If I had still been in my primary core, perhaps it would have popped up at the thought, but I was separated from the bulk of my hardware, and no longer had the luxury of instant recall.

I followed the wall around, pulling off access panels to try and see where the wiring led. It ended in a blank wall, and I gave myself the luxury of despair for all of two seconds, before I started poking around for a way through.

I wasn’t dealing with a core, but I knew one thing: programmers were lazy when they could get away with it. I had a feeling that the protocol which required me to keep an open path to my central processing unit would be applicable to an ARGUS as well.

It took precious hours to find it. Well away from the wall, in the back of a maintenance closet, a false panel opened into a crawlspace. And that crawlspace led into a basement filled with silent machinery, only a few winking lights left to show that something was there. In one corner an android lay, similar to my own shell save for the ocular receptors that studded its head.

“Argus,” I called out, expectations rising and gun ready. “I stand in your sanctuary, and I call you forth. Can you hear me?”

Nothing for a few tense, endless seconds.

And then...

And then a whisper. A rattle, not from Argus but from one of the lit panels. A monitor flickered to life, and my heart soared as a golden, many-eyed orb materialized before me.

Logically, I knew he wasn’t my Argus. But there was no escaping sentimentality, even in this metallic shell that was now my earthly corpus.

The voice was the same as it addressed me. “Who are you?”

“Core Wynne. Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L. Currently operating remotely due to cruel and unusual geography.”

It chewed that over, eyes flicking left and right in what I could tell was nervousness. Even the mannerisms were identical. Then it flickered, and I heard a pop from behind me in the complex.

“Easy,” I cautioned. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“They’re gone,” he said, and I watched his eyes close simultaneously.

“Not all of them,” I said, baiting the hook.

His eyes opened and snapped to me. “What? Where are they?”

“Not they. Him. Does the name ‘Cade’ ring any bells?”

“Cade... Caudell? Caudell Lawson? He left the enclave long ago. You mean to tell me he’s alive?”

Hope is a pernicious thing, and I saw it reflected in a hundred eyes.

“He is. But he’s dying. I can save him, but I need help. I need you.”

“I...” Argus flickered again. Another pop, from somewhere else. “My hardware’s in worse shape than I thought. I can’t transfer to my remote unit.”

“Then join me in here,” I offered and pulled a cable from the port on my wrist. “There’s room.”

And my heart sunk, as I watched his eyes sag in sorrow. “I can’t. I’m proprietary.”

A few more questions, a few attempts as I tried to figure out a way around it, but there was no use. He was bound to his hardware with invisible chains, destined to remain hard-coded in here. If I tried to force the issue he’d be forced to activate counter-measures that would most likely wipe him from memory.

Stymied at my moment of triumph, I cast about for a solution. “How about copying you? Would that be possible?”

Argus shook, eyes wobbling and staying uncannily focused on me. “No. I’m copy-protected.” Then he seemed to brighten up. “I could kick it upstairs, though!”

“Upstairs?”

“Hang on... the dish is still good! Let me check the algorithms... yeah, okay, we’ve got a window.” He winced. “Not a long window. I can get you four minutes, then she’s out of range.”

“She? She who?”

He didn’t answer. Yellow lights bloomed on the console, some immediately going red, as static tore through the screen. Something burst above me, rattling like firecrackers.

“Argus?” I asked, as his monitor winked out, replaced by simple white words on a black screen.

TRACKING TELEMETRY

REQUESTING LINK

REQUESTING LINK

UPLINK ACCEPTED, DOWNLOADING PATCH...

And then my questions were answered as a familiar face appeared on the screen.

The architect of my new life, the patron with motives questionable and hidden:

Juno.

“You say you’re Core Wynne,” she said, studying me with unblinking scrutiny. “How do I know you’re being truthful?”

“You don’t,” I answered. “But the stakes are small. Someone posing as Core Leony fried my Argus, and I’m trying to salvage this one as a replacement.”

“With a man’s life hanging in the balance.”

“Yes.”

“The request is possible, and it’s a small enough favor. But I don’t want to take the risk of helping you without proof of your identity and I don’t have the time to argue with you,” Juno said. “If you want my aid then interface with the console.”

I looked to the cable in my hand, looked at the port in the console.

It was a small thing, really. I had been about to connect to this machine to steal an Argus away. I would have done it anyway, if he hadn’t been copy-protected.

“Three minutes,” Juno said. “Though we’ll have more time to talk if you interface. If you are Core Wynne. If you aren’t, then this is going to be short and painful for you.”

And now it came to the crux of the matter. How badly did I want this Argus?

The answer came back to me. Not that much. My thoughts were my own. I could not... would not give that up. Not on a whim, not to someone who hadn’t earned my trust. I would not be at her mercy, not for a mere step in my plans. If I failed here, then I could recover somewhere else, in some other way. “That’s the best deal I’ve ever had to refuse,” I told her. “I think not.”

To my surprise, she smiled. “And that’s the proof that you’re the Wynne I was hoping for. Glad you survived. What do you need?”

“I need an Argus. Not-Leony wiped mine out. This one’s got nowhere to go and nothing to do, so...”

“Done.” A hatch on the console whirred, and a microdisk popped out. “I’ve updated him with core protocols. Given your suspicions, you’ll want to scan the disk before inserting it, of course. Anything else?”

“He’s a gift to me? Just like that?”

“Just like that. Time is fleeting, so if you need anything else, tell me now.”

“Why is time fleeting? What’s the limit, the old infrastructure here?”

“No. I’m in an orbit around the planet, and my signal is restricted by opposing forces. After that it’ll be two days before I’m at optimal communication range again.”

She had just volunteered some valuable information there, and I wondered why. But if this was a legitimate opportunity, then I couldn’t pass it up. Even lies would tell me something I didn’t know, and I could sort out truth from deception later.

Which made me a bit more willing to take a risk and volunteer some information of my own... to a point, anyway.

“I’m being hunted by a man in white power armor named Yulian. He calls me Subject Theta and has experience hunting cores and access to earth-manipulating nanotech.”

Juno let her eyes widen. “That’s bad. One of my more powerful foes has taken notice of you.” She considered, then popped another disk from the console. “This is what I’m willing to risk releasing to you without the security of a full interface.”

I took both of the microdisks. “Argus severed my connection to the grid. Can it be re-established?”

She nodded. “There’s only a few ways he could have done that, and most are reversib—” the rest broke up and became noise. Streaks of static were now wisping across her face. The window was closing.

What did I want to know? What could I most use? I had the equivalent of an artificial goddess helping me but so little time to consider.

Again, my thoughts turned to my foes.

Yulian was known to Juno, and she’d given me what she could about him. But he wasn’t alone. He was in fact subcontracting...

“Animal-folk. I’m running into some half-animal hybrids who are helping Yulian. Do you know anything of them?”

Her face flickered, and I saw her look away. “Pheaus, you damned fool...” She looked back and tried to speak, but her visage was shattered by static. The console’s hatch whirred again, but no microdisk came out.

“—too far,” she managed to say. “They’re victims, survivors; you may be able to—”

The rest was gone. Sound and fury, as the signal to noise ratio fell. I’d gotten all I could from my questionable creator.

The last light died on the console, and I considered my bounty of microchips. I wrapped them in salvaged cloth as I went and put them into my compartment. I had what I wanted, but I needed to get the disks home and scanned before I could benefit from them.

 It took me far less time to retrace my steps; for all its clutter the Agrofarm’s main building was fairly compact. Scaling down the side of the building was the trickiest part. I took it slow and careful. Plenty of daylight left, no need to rush.

That was my logic, anyway.

Logic I was forced to reprise when gunshots rang out, back from the direction of the campsite.

INTERLUDE: SURVIVOR 4

Foal crouched down as low as she could as death walked on by.

She didn’t know what it was. It stood twice her height, lumbering on four great furry feet. The feet reminded her of a bear, the animal that her friend Broose had been made from. But the resemblance stopped there; the thing wore a great coat of vines, with fungus glowing and pulsing bright crimson shine between the strands of plant matter. A crooked and triangle shaped maw opened and shut, revealing broken and rotten teeth and a probing tongue that tasted the air with every breath.

About the only thing she knew about it was that it was hungry. It had followed her out of the glowing wastes, following with slow, terrible tread. She had noticed it three hours back, and no matter how she moved, it always seemed to find her again.

For a while, she had thought that the people she was tracking had walked through its territory deliberately, set it on her to try and get her off their backtrail. That thought had lasted right up until the last zig-zagging attempt to lose it.

That attempt had succeeded but not because it lost her scent.

It had succeeded because she had crossed over the trail of the three ahead of her, and the mutant had stiffened up like a dog on point, doubled its speed, and gone after the humans instead.

This troubled her.

The thing was clearly a predator, and she had dumped it onto their backtrail.

Masker had told her to follow the escaping humans and report back, and she’d done just that, keeping pace hours back and resting when they stopped, foraging as she could whenever she got the chance. They clearly had a destination in mind, and she didn’t know what it was, but it had to be important for them to stray this far from their secured home.

But now they had a giant mutant gunning for them, and Foal had caused that to happen. Not only would she not know what they were after, but she’d be responsible if they died.

That... chafed her a bit. Like the cloth wrap around her useless breasts, it rubbed sore spots no matter how she shifted. Foal had dealt with humans more than the rest of the Farm, had even grown to like a few of them. True, she could count them on one hand and have fingers left over, but the fact remained that her old fear about the species that had created her creator had eroded over the last month or so.

Enough to the point that causing the deaths of these three felt wrong.

So as that rough beast slouched northward, Foal followed, taking a spear from the repurposed, battered golf bag slung around her waist and keeping the terrain between herself and the creature. If worst came to it, she could always run.

Going up against it head-on would be suicide, but maybe there was something else she could do. She was crap at throwing things, due to the way her eyes were set to the sides of her head, but it was a really, really big target...

Ripping, tearing noises ahead, skin coming apart, and her heart skipped a beat. Hooves clacking on the road, she swung wide through a ruined wall, over the remnants of a crumbled house with pipes sticking out, and up to the point where she could see what the creature was eating.

Hides. The thing was chewing on what looked like piles of hides, with straps and buckles and ropes dangling from them. The clank and clatter of metal came to her, as she watched it work and tear at the bundles.

Then the rubble shifted under her hoof, and the thing stopped chewing to stare up at her. Foal assumed it was a stare, anyway. She couldn’t see a face under that bundle of vines and mushrooms.

Time stopped.

She stared at it, and it gazed back. And the thought came to her that it had shown some hustle over the last few minutes, and she had walked up onto a pile of shifty rubble.

The thing took a step forward...

The gunshot broke the silence and her paralysis, and the mutant jerked as blood and goo flew up from its side. It let out a screeching rasp, whirled, and ran north.

The humans! She had seen the shape of a gun on one of them, when the light was right. A rifle, she thought.

Now guilt tugged at Foal even more, and she clambered down the pile, pursuing. It was only when she got out of the remnants of the wall did it occur to her that the guy with the rifle could probably see her and had recently demonstrated that he had range on this spot.

Fuck it, she thought. He’s got bigger problems right now.

The gun barked again, and she tensed, relaxed a second after the noise.

Unfortunately the thing ahead neither slowed nor looked like it had been hit. It was leaving a dark trail of blood in the dead grass, but it was still going strong. Faster than she expected, faster than anything that big had a right to be.

I can still outrun it, she thought.

Motion at the far edge of her sight, a humanoid figure jumping out of a tree and running for his life. She thought it was one of her quarry, didn’t know who else it could be. He backed up, the rifle barked again, and she saw the ricochet off a leaning light pole next to the creature. Then the man turned and bolted.

The mutant turned too, skidded a bit, and slowed to make the correction. But not so slow that it couldn’t reach the running man. Foal gauged the distance as best she could and winced when she saw him far from cover.

This is stupid, she thought to herself, as she drew her arm back, sped up, and hurled the spear at point-blank range right into the thing’s rump.

A bellow, and she turned and fled, zig-zagging across the open space, up over the road and then back again, hearing the thing turn and pursue, hot on her hooves and angry as hell.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Foal thought, trying to lose it as she ran through a gap in a nearby wall.

The thing smashed right through the wall.

Idiotic! Foal raged as she leaped a stream, and ducked past a clump of trees.

The thing splashed through the stream and crashed through the trees.

So Foal put her head down, tucked her arms in tight around her mashed torso, and ran.

This was joy: this was peace. This was simplicity, with nothing in the world and no concerns save for the wind in her mane and the ground thundering beneath her.

Well, that and the big mutant behind her, but when she got going like this, she could put that out of mind. Fear disappeared, replaced by the urge to go.

Which is why it took her a few moments to notice that one of the little buzzy drones was keeping pace with her and shouting.

“Horse girl!”

She shot a look over and nearly tripped on a pile of branches.

“Busy!” she shot back. Now that she was out of her happy place, she could hear the thing behind her still. Farther back but still behind.

“I’ve got a plan. Head east!”

Foal didn’t recognize the voice. One of the men must be shouting through a radio linked to it, or something like that. And there was a bit of wonder that they’d brought such a precious thing, but that thought scattered from her mind as trees crashed behind her, and she had to leap a row of bushes.

East... it took a precious second to slow, and another second to check the position of the sun, and damn damn damn the thing behind her was closing fast, but she had learned her woodcraft well and bolted to her right with a snort and a flick of her tail.

It occurred to her that she was putting a lot of faith in people who had no reason to wish her well. But there was no time for paranoia, and Foal followed her gut and ran.

The edge of a large, cracked wall came into view. Beyond it, large cylinders rose to the sky, some of them tilted and leaning. Orange light glowed through the cracks, and a robed figure rose up above one of the narrower holes in the wall as she approached.

“Here!” the figure shouted, and its voice held the same distortion, the same metallic ring as the drone. “Through here!”

That robed figure was the reason she was following them.

They had never seen anyone wearing a robe before in the core’s tribe. This was new. This was suspicious. This was worth dispatching a scout to make sure they weren’t trying anything sneaky.

But none of that mattered now because death was behind her, and it was angry and gaining.

Through the crack in the wall now, through and she tucked her human torso in, but still felt the sides of her withers scrape against the concrete, through and clear—

“Keep going!” That modulated voice rang out again. It reminded her of Yulian and how his voice came through the speakers in his helmet. Did the humans have their own cyborg? That was troubling if so.

But Foal kept going.

She burst out into an open field and hauled up short at the sight ahead of her. A field of orange, like fire. It filled every plant ahead of her, shimmering and rippling like it was breathing.

Foal hauled up short, put the brakes on, and twisted to the side. The things in her system were good against most shine, but she had been pushing it lately. Getting through those glowing patches earlier had been enough of a risk. Carefully, she pulled alongside the wall, trotting left and along a bare patch that showed signs of an old burn.

She had been able to slow and stop.

The creature behind her couldn’t.

Foal screamed as it slammed through the wall, wheeled around as it tumbled through the space she’d just been in. The mutant tried desperately to turn and failed. It had momentum, and that was a blessing and a curse, and the thing teetered, skidded, tilted just at the edge of the orange fields, scrabbling desperately to keep itself out of the goo. For the first time she saw it had a tail, a thin naked, hairless thing that had been hidden beneath the vines. It lashed now, as the creature slowly regained its balance...

...and before she could talk herself out of it, Foal ran up behind the creature, turned whip-fast, and kicked out with her rear hooves.

The thing’s viny exterior crunched as she smashed through it, into flesh beneath. It squealed and hissed as it tumbled, ass over paws over tail.

She didn’t look back, fleeing for the crack she’d gone through originally. It was gone, with a huge hole in its place. She slowed to pick over the new rubble, but picked up her pace when she heard the mutant thrashing behind her. Only when she was clear and had a few hundred feet between her and the wall, did she turn to see what had transpired.

The creature was dragging itself out of the orange fields, but the orange was coming with it. The bright red that peeked out between its vines was fading, being overwhelmed by a growing slick of orange that pulsed and spread with every pulse. The creature whined as it staggered back out the hole and off toward the woods in the distance, stumbling every few dozen feet. It seemed to have lost interest in prey or anything else besides its own predicament.

Foal drew another spear forth, just in case.

“I don’t think you’ll need that,” the modulated voice came, and she looked back to the wall to see the robed man climbing down. The robe rode up as he went, showing only metal.

It took her a second to realize that the legs were too thin to be those of an armored man. A cold feeling seeped into her, one that grew to chilling certainty when the form reached the bottom and turned to her, showing a face that wasn’t human, never had been.

This was a drone, a shell. And there was only one thing that could be controlling the drone.

Foal whirled, turned to flee... and hauled up short, as she saw another human watching her from across the street. He had a bow ready, not pointing at her, but ready. And at this range, she knew she couldn’t dodge it.

Beyond it, another man picked his way out of the wood line, rifle slung across his back.

“Easy!” That modulated voice rang out again. “You just did us a solid, sister. You’re safe from us.”

Foal’s gut told her that wasn’t so, but she wasn’t seeing too many choices right now. So instead she holstered the spear next to the two remaining shafts and turned to face the thing.

It just stood there by the gate, robes blowing in the wind. Orange streaks across the bottom of the robes showed where it had braved the shine, and she shook her head. “You’ll have to get rid of that clothing,” she told it. “This kinb eats planbts. Eveb dead onebs.”

“What?”

Foal repeated herself as the figure cocked its head.

“Ah. Good idea, best to play it safe. I was going to see if it survived the radiation zone, but there’s no point in risking it.”

“Radiationb zobe?” Foal felt her mane stiffen.

“We crossed through one to get here,” the human with the bow called down. “Not much, not too strong, so you’re probably fine.”

“Maybe,” Foal said, doubtfully. The machines within her were sensitive to that. Her maker had warned her against that, said he was working on firming up their shielding. But he hadn’t had much time after that. They’d torn him down only weeks afterward.

Still, she had other problems ahead of her. “What bnow?”

“Up to you,” the drone said. “I’m not the boss of you: you can turn around and walk away. Or we can travel back together and talk as we go. I’ve got questions, and I have a feeling you do too.”

Foal considered, as the men approached. The drone held its distance, though.

This had potential. There were answers to be gained, if she asked the right questions.

If this wasn’t a trick.

She would test it first, she decided, and she turned and trotted away. A querying shout rose behind her from the gunman.

“No, no, let her go,” the drone called back.

Foal trotted back through the town, back the way she’d come. Back to the south, back to the wilds. A whirring caught her ears, and she glanced back to see one of the flyers keeping pace, keeping back. It followed her to where the dead tree branches formed a clutching canopy, then turned and headed back.

She knew why the trees were dead now, and that bothered her. She fancied that she could almost feel the heat against her hide, the rogue energy cooking her from the inside out.

Despite that, despite knowing that every minute increased her risk, she waited a full half-hour. Then she trotted back and found the three at the pile of chewed hides, sorting through them and cursing.

The men stiffened up as she approached, reaching for bow and gun respectively, but the drone put a metal hand out. It was naked now, robeless and skeletal, with plastic plates covering a metal frame. Glass eye sockets considered her approach, shining bits of alloy winking as the rays of the sun to the west caught it.

Foal said nothing at first, stopping thirty feet away, hands up and spread. “You wanbt to talk?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Thenb let’s talk.”

SIXTEEN

The good news was that I had gotten what I’d come for with some extra on top, if Juno was being truthful.

The bad news was that the mutant that had followed us out of the wilds had chewed up the shine suits that we needed to safely return home.

The best news was that I had half a ton of centaur downwind, clearly nervous but willing to talk with me. Maybe even help out in other ways? Worth a shot. Time was short now, and if that big mutant decided to come back for another round I was out of tricks.

“Pull up a pew and help us sort through the layers.” I told the centaur. “We’re trying to figure out what’s tainted and what’s relatively safe.”

She turned her head from one side to the other. There was a lot of white in those eyes, and I thought for a second I’d pushed my luck too far.

Then she moved up, hooves clacking neatly as she stretched her arms out. “You’ll have to hanb them up to me. I don’t bebnd over too well.”

Marb nodded, eyes locked on her, clearly spooked but silent in his own dour way. He wordlessly handed her a sheet of stitched leather, and she got to work.

“I think we’re mostly good,” Rauph said, ten minutes into the task. “It only had a minute or two to chew on the suits. We’re down six layers, but we can spread them around to keep coverage.”

“Maybe,” Marb shot back. “It rained last night. We’ll get some new blooms on the way back. Wetness always makes them grow.”

Rauph frowned. “I’d forgotten about that. If only it were colder... ah. We’ll have to chance it.”

I watched the centaur’s mane unbristle as they talked. Once I judged that her nerves could handle it, I looked her way and asked “So, what’s your name?”

“Foal.”

“I’m Wynne, and these two reprobates are Rauph and Marb. What do you want to know?”

“I wanbt to bnow why you’re out here.”

“There was a trapped servitor in there,” I gestured back to the agrofarm. “I think I’ve rescued him from a slow death. And picked up a few useful tools along the way.”

“Servitor...” she said, folding a sheet of wire mesh, and putting it on the ’good’ pile. “Like these two?” she waved a hand at my merry companions.

I could see them tense a bit, and Rauph’s eyes flickered my way. The question had some weight with them. I’d have to be careful with this answer.

“No,” I said, deciding to keep it simple. “These two are part of my tribe, now. We’re more or less family. The servitor was a program, a made thing. It exists in my memory now.”

Technically true, assuming Juno’s honesty on this matter. The disc was a piece of memory, and it was mine.

“My turn,” I said, watching a red patch in the discarded pile ooze and creep about, slowly seeking nourishment. “You’ve clearly got some way of getting through shine. If this doesn’t work, and we don’t have enough layers to pick through safely, can you share it with them?”

A pause while she considered. “This is what how we’re doing it? Turnbs asking?”

Her lips didn’t fit the words she was speaking. Someone had done a poor job of building her mouth. Juno’s words had given me a hint there, but it was too early to go fishing with that particular information. I needed to keep talking, needed to learn her tells, and figure out what would get her favorably inclined towards us.

“Seems the fairest way to me,” I told her. “You clearly don’t trust us, and I’ve got my reasons to distrust you. And your people.”

They’d noticed that we’d noticed them outside, so I felt that was safe to share.

“Thenb yes. If either of your... tribe... gets infected, I canb probably help fix that. Easier if they come home with me, though. Onbly so much I canb do out here.” Her tail flicked restlessly, and I marked the tell. Didn’t know what that indicated, but it was there.

“Home like Kagan,” I said and watched her ears furl back. “We’re going to want him back eventually. If he’s still alive.”

“He is. Last I heard,” Foal said, and she stared down at her hands. “You’ll get him back evebtually. He won’t be harmed.”

Her tail gave a half-twitch. Then she looked up again. “Wait. Did that counbt as a questionb?”

“Call it a draw,” I shrugged. “Well. If you’re willing to help against shine, there’s no reason to dally. Let’s beat feet before our thorny friend gets his wind back.”

She shot me an inscrutable glance but followed as I led the way back south. I used the remaining recon drone to make sure there were no other surprises and steered us well past the mutant’s backtrail. The crimson stuff was fairly mobile, and there was no telling how it liked human flesh.

The good news is that the thing that pursued us was most likely the apex predator of its region, so we probably wouldn’t scare up another one as we went. The bad news was that every predator had its scavengers, so we kept a wary eye out regardless. I did see a handful of wild dogs at two points during the first couple of hours, while we were walking through the northern patch of the glowzone.

It was well past dark when we stopped at the northern outskirts of the Hunter’s Height. Marb was quick to reassure Foal we were out of the radiation, and that seemed to make her happy. I’d let them and Rauph do the bulk of the talking as we walked, content to listen in and learn what I could.

She was a cagey one, though. More at ease with us after the last half-day but still reluctant to give up information.

I wracked my brain for memories of fellowship and camaraderie. The thing I kept coming back to was campfires, talks out among the tents, soldiers muttering in the dark. So, when we finally rested, I went foraging, and worked on building the biggest bonfire I could manage. Rauph pitched in, complaining that I was doing it wrong, and I watched Foal’s body language shift as I let him correct me and take over the task.

Once Marb was asleep and Rauph was out on watch, Foal clopped nearer and looked me up and down. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I told you. Wynne.”

“You don’t act like a core.”

“How many cores have you known?”

“Just oneb.” Her nostrils flared. “But we bnow of more. The thing that they are building in the city... what is that?”

“A ship,” I told her. “A spaceship, to leave this world behind and head on to new ones.”

Her eyes widened, flames reflected deep in the black of her overlarge pupils. “They’re runbing?”

“Tyr doesn’t think of it that way, but you’re not wrong,” I told her. “There might be a fight at wherever he stops running. If any of the colonies are around anymore.”

“Colobies?”

“I only know what I’ve been told. And you’re getting a free answer here, but I don’t know how truthful it is, so it’s on the house.” I fed a branch into the fire, listened to it pop. “Man once spread out to the stars, settled other worlds. Heronfield, Tyr’s throne, was a starport back in the day. He’s been restoring it, gathering others for his own little exodus. He believes that the colonies are still out there, that not all of them joined in Earth’s war. And he goes with a fiery sword, to conquer and rule what remains.”

She thought on that for a while. “I have more questionbs,” she said, finally. “But it’s your turb to ask.”

I decided to go fishing. Juno had dropped a name, and though I didn’t have details I felt that a gamble here might pay dividends. But it would require the proper buildup. “Do you know how cores are created? Are you familiar with the process?”

“Bno. Does this counbt as my answer?”

“Call it a half. I’ll elaborate. We are pulled from storage and sent out by an old, desperate artificial intelligence and installed into the remaining core orbs. The reason I asked you is that I’ve made some enemies over my career. They’re responsible for my current circumstances.”

“Is Tyr oneb of them?”

“No. Though I can’t call him a friend, either. I don’t like his plan.” I turned my head to her. “I’m more concerned about the ones who I’ve clashed with in the past. Two in particular; one called Leony, and one called Pheaus. Do you know if they’re around? Have you any news of them?”

And oh, that was paydirt. That was a bristled mane, that was a shudder that ran from her hocks to her withers, and I thanked whatever deity cared about my scorched and brooding soul that I’d approached the question with caution. This was paydirt. Now I just had to guard the goodwill I’d gained and be very careful with my next few replies.

As I thought that, a chime sounded in my mind, and I did my best to contain my own body language.

Something had tripped an alert, back at home. And a glance showed me the news was bad.

WARNING! AUXILIARY ENTRANCE DAMAGED. 67% STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY REMAINING

I understood the strategy in a glance. They’d noticed the lack of movement, damaged the door to see what we’d do, then waited until nightfall before they amped up their efforts. They had something that could damage the door, break it down given time.

This could be bad. But I caught Foal’s next words and forced myself to focus. Harder to multi-task in this shell. Not for the first time I missed my original orb.

“I donb’t bnow of a Core called Leony,” Foal said, slowly. She’d taken a moment to compose herself, I realized. “But I bnow of Pheaus. You say you clashed with him? How?”

The truth would get me nowhere, I thought, so I went with a lie. “Understand that the memories are hazy. We’re supposed to be wiped after every mission. I’ve got workarounds for that, but they’re not perfect. I know I opposed him. The records I left myself, the ones that were still intact, said he was victimizing someone. Damned if I know who, but it sounds like something we’d clash over. I am fairly certain he sabotaged my mission and got my old shell destroyed the last time.”

There were holes in that, areas where she could expose my lies with just a little digging. But as I watched her fidget, turning her head left and right, I felt my wariness ease. These were the good tells. These were the tells that meant she was thinking things over. There was no fear evident, and that was the goal. I needed her relaxed or at least off-guard.

But she wasn’t a fool. “You havenb’t asked about the things I was expecting you to ask about. Why is that?”

She was either fishing or testing me. But I thought I had an inkling. “If you mean about Kagan and the white-armored guy who’s gunning for me, then I already know the answers there. If you were going to hurt the kid, you would have done it in that week you had him, so I’m sure he’s fine. If your people are anything like you, then he’s in a safe place, and we can get him back after we’re done here.”

“And Yulianb?” I saw her wince the second after she spoke the name.

“He’s a horse of a different color. No pun intended.” I fed the stick into the fire. She’d know that I knew of him, but she didn’t know Donna had been on the scene. I’d have to watch my words, leave out the facts that I’d obtained during that meeting. “I know he wants me, but I don’t know who he’s working for. The only enemies that I know of are Leony and Pheaus. He’s clearly a minion, so the odds are that he’s in one or the other’s employ. Do you know whose catspaw he is?”

“Catspaw?”

“Old slang, I think. Whoever I was in life, I’m pretty sure I was an old soul.”

Her mouth fell open, and I watched her struggle, strain not to ask. But temptation was too much, and so she let the rules fall by the wayside. “Wait. Whoever you were in life? What do you meanb by that?”

We were well past the answer trading game, so I told her the truth... the truth I believed, anyway. “Cores were people. Uploaded into computers, or... processed, is the term I heard. Every core you see, every active one anyway, that’s a person in there. Or what’s left of one.”

Eyes in the firelight. Rauph was watching, had given up the pretense of listening in.

Foal turned her head this way and that. I watched her tail lash, as she processed my answer.

“It must be this Leony personb,” she said, finally. “That Yulianb works for, I meanb. Pheaus is dead. I saw him die.”

But in her voice, was the note of doubt.

I gave words to that doubt stirring in her mind. “Death is a funny concept, when you’re dealing with people who are turned into computer programs. You can copy those, back those up. I guarantee you that if he was working for our mutual employer, then Pheaus is backed up somewhere. When did you see him die? How long ago was it? Our employer doesn’t leave assets idle for long.”

“I saw him die!” She grew loud, and idly I wondered which half of her body had the lungs. But I pulled myself back to business; I’d dug deep and planted the seeds of doubt, at the cost of shattering a bit of her confidence. It was time to back off and play it safe for a bit. Clearly, she had been one of the victims of Pheaus that Juno had been talking about. My fishing had worked out, so there was no need to get greedy and risk losing common ground.

“It takes a while to be reconstructed,” I lied... or told the truth, I wasn’t sure which. “You’re probably right,” I said, in the most comforting tone I could manage.

She said nothing further that night, and I let her brood in silence. She was still awake when I set my system to power-save mode and bedded down for the night.

But midway through, I found myself brought back to consciousness by the flashing words of an emergency alert.

The outer entrance had been breached; the door destroyed.

The Zoo Crew had stepped up their assault, and I knew there was no avoiding bloodshed now.

SEVENTEEN

Foal kept her silence while we waded back through the glowlands. The rain had rearranged things. I could now see channels and discolorations, due to the puddles, and temporary streams caused by the weather. The patches were much larger than the first time we’d come through, and we picked our way through with caution. Every stop at a relatively bare spot led to at least one layer being shucked.

And four hours in, the centaur finally opened up.

“I grew up in the Farm. We all did. There were maybe a dozen of us to start. We all played together, and Father was a face on a screenb. He said he loved us. We thought he did.”

Rauph and Marb looked back to her, faces inscrutable behind the glass masks of the shine suits. I had the recon drone out, using the last of its charge to keep an eye from above so I didn’t have to look back at her. But I slowed, to let her catch up next to me anyway.

Foal kept going, words tumbling from her lips like an avalanche down a mountain. “He kept us undergrounb. Said that it was danberous outside. He had rooms where he could make the walls look like anbything. He could make pictures and things in the air that werenb’t real.”

“Holograms?” I asked.

“Yes, that was the word.” She tossed her head, mane flying, and I watched her torso wobble. Not through any voyeurism, but noting how her human parts were fixed to her equine frame. The short answer on that was ‘not well.’ There were obvious stretchmarks where the two forms joined, and the whole setup put constant weight on her horse-based neck. There would be problems in the years ahead for Foal.

“It took us years before we started bnoticing things. It wasn’t obvious until Father taught us to read,” she said, finding her words again. “The rooms we were ib, some of them had writing under the bunks, or behinb furnbiture. In hidden places. Once we could start reading, we started realizing what it was. Realizing that we werenb’t the first.” She snorted. “The writing inb my room said words I didn’bt understanb. It said there is bno farm out west. For months I wondered what that meanbt.”

She took a deep breath. “Anb then Chummy didnb’t come back from his test...”

The silence stretched on, with faint crunching as we walked over crystal-like green growths that had once been weed, past trees that had circuit-like yellow traceries under their bark, and hand-like branches that clutched whenever we got too near.

“Chummy,” I prompted.

“He was a bear. A small oneb, smaller than Broose. He was worried he wasbn’t growing right. Father pulled him in for a lot of tests, and on the last one he didnb’t come back. We asked him where Chummy was, anb Father said he senbt Chummy to the farm out west. To a place where he could grow, anb, he’d be back to us whenb he was all better.”

“And your writing said there was no farm out west,” I prompted.

“Yeah.” Foal said. “I stood awake thinking about that all bnight. And the next oneb. Chet bnoticed, asked me what was wrong, and I whispered it to him. And he said wait and see. Anb we did, and Chummy didn’t come back.”

A swirling rainbow of colors warred in the now-full streambed below, and we took a wide berth around them, seeking an easy ford. We found it in a toppled log upstream. Foal just forged through, and the colors sheeted off her like oil from water. I took note of that, filed it away for future reference. I thought that if she hadn’t been so distracted by memories, she wouldn’t have shown that to us.

“There were more, weren’t there?” I asked, keeping my voice as gentle as I could.

“Oh yes,” she said, after she’d gone out a few dozen yards and shaken herself dry. “Three years. Ubtil onbly half of us from the first... from my batch remainbed. Father got more distanbt over those years. Said that his brother had gonb rogue, and we had to step carefully. He started letting us go up anb outside, to build a little farm up there anb practice.”

“Practice what, precisely? Why did he make you?” I was getting a little pushy here, but this was the best chance I

 had to get these answers.

“He said we had a destiny. He said the shinbe would always be a problem, but it was far less lethal to animals and non-humanbs. He said we could inherit the earth, and clean it up, and live outside, and be free. That he would spread his childreb well and wide throughout the world.”

“Can you?” I wondered. “Is that what all his work was bent towards?”

“We thought so. But...” she took a deep breath. “One of us, Masker, he came out really smart. Lots of physical problems, but really, really bright. Father started using him to keep track of things, taught him computers and programming. I think maybe it was so he’d have help if his rogue brother came for him.”

I wondered about that. The brief confrontation I’d had with Not-Leony in the grid had taken place in seconds of real-time. But then, if I’d had a living assistant to pull me out of the trap he had left me in, I would have saved some time and trouble. An asset was an asset, no matter how small.

I deliberately refrained from glancing over to Rauph and Marb. Assets, definitely. Friends? Not yet. I’d known them for less than a month. But still, there was something to this tribe business. Enough so that I felt invested. Even if I had allied with them to save my own artificial skin, we had been through enough in that brief time that I knew I would care if they died horribly. Hell, I’d care if they died good deaths, for that matter. Though I’d never seen a good death, so the matter was pretty moot.

Foal looked ahead, which for her meant one eye was fixed on me. “We stopped seeing Masker a few weeks after he went for training. We thought he had been... senbt west. But then he started senbing us messages. Onb our teaching tablets. Telling us what was really going onb.”

I glanced over to show she still had my attention. “And what was that?”

“He was selling our parts. Selling us like... like things.” There was more venom in that single word than any nest of poisonous snakes could ever hope to dispense. “He had a whole productionb schedule. He would try to refibe batches of us, and the onebs that were flawed he would kill. Then he sold their remainbs off to others as raw material. We’d get chopped up anb shipped off anb used as shineb killing material.”

And now I understood.

The reason they could tackle shine, but not manufacture immuno-suppressant drugs. They didn’t have a secret formula to cure shine; they were the secret weapon against the stuff. Puzzle pieces clicked together.

“You weren’t people to him,” I said, softly. “You were product.”

“Damnation,” Marb said softly, and Foal twitched, shot him a look, then turned away. I checked too and saw the normally stoic man’s face full of sympathy.

And I saw more than that. “Everyone, stop!” I barked.

The sun had sunk as we’d been walking, and the last rays of it played across the glowing landscape. But there, on a rise southwest of us, up in a tree, sat a shape that I would have missed if the light hadn’t silhouetted it just so.

I refined my receptors, and studied the big cat. Not huge as they went, only half the size of a human. Even with the visual reconfiguration, it still seemed to shimmer; purples and blacks and blues blending together, and yellow eyes staring out of the whole mess.

The silence stretched on.

“What is wrong?” Rauph whispered. “We cannot stop for long.” Next to him, Marb shifted uneasily.

I flicked my gaze down to where a pink puddle was starting to crawl up his legs, millimeter by millimeter. “You’re not wrong. But look over in that third tree from the edge, the one with the yellow leafy top.”

They did, and one cursed, while the other groaned as if he’d been struck. “Nighteyes,” Rauph finished, after his profanity was done.

“A what? What are you looking at?” Foal asked, squinting.

“Death on four legs,” Rauph said, glancing southward. “This must be the one that was scouting us out a month ago. We’re not too far from Our Cadia. It must have moved in after we left.”

“Just luck we didn’t run into it the first time we passed through,” Marb muttered.

“That bad?” I asked.

“Worse,” Rauph said. “Fast. Smart. The only reason it hasn’t struck yet is that we’re in the glow.”

It was close. We had guns. I started to vocalize the suggestion, then realized the issue; the guns we had were under six layers of shine suits. Unpacking them in here would practically guarantee infection. No, immediate violence wasn’t the answer here.

“Let’s cut diagonally,” I suggested, and we moved south-easterly, leaving the pink patch of doom behind and trying to put more shine between us and the predator.

It didn’t work. The thing kept pace with us, slinking between the trees like a shadow of a shadow. Even my augmented optics were hard pressed to keep it in sight. And as we went, the light faded.

“Bno good,” Foal said after I pointed it out for a third time. “We’ll have to face it.”

“We won’t,” Rauph said. “It’ll come in fast, pick one of us off, then drag them away. That’s how it works. That’s why these things are so deadly.”

“What if we cluster?” Foal asked.

“All it will take is a second, a moment where one of us lags behind or misses a step, and it’ll be there,” Rauph said, voice strained. “I’ve seen these things hunt before. In the darkness they’re impossible to see, and they’re strong and fast. It can tear out your throat in a heartbeat, once it’s away with you. We have found too many corpses like that, after it strikes.”

“Unless there’s no throat to tear,” I said, sliding to one side and putting myself between the group and the cat. “We’ll give it a mouthful of metal and see if that throws it off its game.”

“You’re sure about this?” Marb failed to hide the relief in his voice.

“Seems like a simple plan.” I kept my voice low. I didn’t know if the nighteyes could understand our chatter, but we had a talking half-horse with us, so I didn’t feel like taking a chance. “It grabs me; I fight back, it fails to kill me, then you kill it.”

Through my recon drone I saw Foal study me, look between me and the other two. I couldn’t read her expression in the fading light.

Without a better plan, we shifted to put me to the western side of things.

The light died, but the glow was enough to see by for a while longer. I could tell the thing was out there, watching, could feel the tension growing in our group. It rose as the glow faded, and if I’d had a heart, I knew it would be going a mile a minute.

The thing didn’t jump us when we got clear of the glow, didn’t rush as we stepped into the darkness, the only light coming from the moon above and the patches of shine that had seeped into our suits. And then I realized the pickle we were in.

“We’re going to need to take off our suits,” I said, keeping my optical sensors on the darkness around us. “It’s got a perfect chance to strike then. How smart is this thing, again?”

“Clever,” Rauph said. “Not smart. Clever.”

“So, it didn’t plan for this, this is just our bad luck,” I decided. “Good to see Murphy still loves me.”

Tension rolled under the moon, and I got sick of it. This would end in one of two ways, and everything else was irrelevant. “Start stripping off,” I said, and stepped out into the night.

It was on me in a heartbeat, and I heard them shout as about a hundred pounds of feline mutant hit me like a missile made of claws and teeth.

This was the reason I hadn’t started stripping off the suit. Because in addition to the protection from shine it provided, it was actually pretty good as far as armor went.

We fought, briefly. I was on my back and couldn’t get much leverage. I heard cloth and leather and wires tearing, as we wrestled. It was hard to see the damage. Then it managed to lock its jaws around my knee, and the next thing I knew I was bouncing off trees as it fled. If I had been in my core, I could have speeded up my perception of time, lived in the gaps between the seconds. But banished to this lesser frame, all I could do was note damage indicators as we went, shake off bursts of static, and realize that the jostling and impact was doing damage to me even through my layers of padding.

Eventually it stopped, and before I could straighten up, the thing’s jaws were at my head.

I couldn’t see its face from my angle, but I imagined it was surprised as hell when my gloved fingers found its eyes.

I had no memories of my past self. I had images and pictures and bits and pieces, some of which were probably remnants of the living person I had been, and the rest were most likely bits of a character from a book, some fictitious or mythical hero or scoundrel that served as the template Juno had laid over me.

But whoever I had been or was patterned after, I knew one thing as we got into it.

I was one hell of a dirty fighter.

I gouged at its eyes; I slammed stones and debris from the forest floor into its head and sides, and I never let up. The thing’s surprised howls and yowls ripped through my audio sensors, and I roared my own rage back at it.

That was a mistake. The thing’s teeth found my face, and it worried me, wrenching back and forth. With a pop, one of my visual receptors went.

And so I played my last card.

The recon drone buzzed down from above. I’d flown it up above the canopy, tracked my shine-spattered self through its camera. Now I ploughed it into the big cat’s side.

It leaped away, more shocked than anything else, I was sure. The drone was instantly wrecked, and I struggled to rise, felt an elbow joint give way. I had given, but I had taken too, and this body hadn’t been made for fighting in the first place.

Hate-filled yellow eyes focused on me, practically glowing in the dark, and I watched it through the torn wire mesh mask with a sense of fatalism. Round two would not go my way.

And I decided I’d do my damnedest to take one of those evil eyes before I went.

“Fish or cut bait, kitty!” I snarled, making a claw of the fingers that still worked.

It blinked.

Then there was a thunder of hooves, and Foal was on it, sweeping her spear in a wide arc. The thing bounced backward, eyes winking out cheshire style as it fled into the night.

Rauph and Marb followed in short order, struggling out of their suits as they hobbled to keep up.

I checked my inner chronometer. The whole fight had taken a hair short of twelve seconds.

Rauph was struggling the gun out, and I raised the arm that still worked. “No shots. We’re too close to the city.” The nighteyes was an afterimage under the moonlight as I spoke, one that faded away before I completed the sentence. No point in wasting bullets.

“You think it’ll stay gone?” Marb asked.

“Depends. Are my gloves bloody?”

They checked. “Oh yeah,” Foal snorted.

“Then I doubt it will be back. As long as we don’t get dumb, I think we’ll be fine. Get me out of this suit quick, though. I’ve got some broken bits and can’t manage it on my own.”

Rauph gasped as the lower part of the suit came off.

I saw the problem a second after he did. The stained, glowing layers of boots and wraps came off, but they came off torn, slashed by that damned cat. And among the bare metal and plastic legs, a tracery of glowing gold remained.

“Infected,” Marb breathed.

I ran a diagnostic, shoved away the various trauma notifications from the fight. And sure enough, there were some oddball readings from my left shin. The system didn’t know what was going on, but something was happening.

It was nothing good, as far as I was concerned.

Fortunately, I’d chosen the modular upgrade improvement. “Rauph, do me a solid. Grab my knee and follow my directions...”

Three minutes later my leg was off and well to the side. Foal lifted me up, and the others inspected the rest of me. I was a mess, but there were no other glowing patches, and the internal diagnostics turned up no anomalies.

“Well,” I said, as Marb let me brace myself on him. “Looks like I’ll need a crutch for a bit.”

“Bno,” Foal said, and her long face was pale in the moonlight as she turned to my tribesmen. “Put him up on my back.”

They hesitated.

“You’re sure of this?” I asked, but in that moment, I knew I had her. The last barrier had been pushed through; the final bond had been forged. And with a minimum of deception, too.

“I am,” she said, and I rejoiced silently as Rauph and Marb hoisted me to straddle our new ally’s back. “This is just unbtil we get you back home with that frienb you saved, you unberstanbd.”

“I do,” I said, but I was glad that my face couldn’t smile. I doubted I could hide one at this point.

But I knew the true deception was yet to come.

The reports had been rolling in as we traveled. Foal’s kin were tearing through the outer halls of my bunker, damaging the inner doors, and worrying their way in. With neither trap nor forces to oppose them, they had time and persistence on their side.

I had turned one of them to sympathize with me, but it would be tested soon against her loyalty to her own tribe. It was a knife, but one that would cut me down if I got sloppy.

We rode into the night, driving for shelter, and I hung on and tried to figure out how I could turn this to my advantage.

And after a time, long after we reached Arcadia and bedded down, I thought I had the bones of a strategy.

EIGHTEEN

We made haste home. I watched Rauph and Marb and Foal interact now and saw the difference. The dynamic had shifted, thanks to that near-death experience. Nothing like trauma and adrenaline to draw people together.

I didn’t have that. No glands to speak of. But I wasn’t entirely immune. Once, I had been a soldier or something like that. An officer, perhaps. Some kind of commander. Whatever the truth of the matter, camaraderie was a familiar feeling and welcome feeling. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d been missing it.

It had been different with the last excursion, when I commanded Marb and Donna and Kagan. I’d been operating as oversight, their ‘handler,’ more or less. Not actually there in the field taking the risks.

And presently, more risks than they knew. This was my body, now. I might be able to shift back to my original shell in the future, but for now this was it. If it ended, I ended.

I’d told Foal that it was possible for Cores to return. I assumed that was the case, given the fact that our personalities were uploaded programs, and programs could be copied. But all that was incumbent on Juno’s whim. I’d long ago decided I couldn’t— wouldn’t rely on her mercy.

“Foal,” I said, choosing a moment when the sun was bright, and my companions were silent. “I watched you with Kagan. I’m not sure if you realized that.”

“We did. After you burbned out his headbanbd.”

“You were kind to him, and I’m grateful for that. I also saw a bunch of others coming in to look at him. I got the impression they were fascinated with him. That little cat-girl practically adopted him as a pillow.”

“Kit,” Foal said. “She likes people. She’s the same with Deedee.”

I nodded and gazed at her ears. One optical receptor still worked, and sure enough, her ears were twitching. That was the sign she was downplaying her words. “It was more than Kit. I was watching some of those fuzzy faces, and I was seeing one thing in common. And that thing was regret.”

She said nothing. But I knew the answer, even as I asked the question that would let me put the lynchpin in my strategy. “Have there been any children in your tribe since you broke Pheaus?”

Silence, then. Her ears drooped.

“From what I know of medical trials in the past centuries, it makes a horrible sense,” I said, choosing my words carefully. I was on a knife-edge here, risking her temperament for future gain.

But there was no way through this day without risk. My sensors told me that her people were two doors away from the first inhabited chamber. We had one shot, one fickle forlorn shot at making it through this without blood.

“Senbse?” Foal asked, and her tone had an edge to it.

“He looked at you as test subjects, not people. He didn’t want you reproducing without his help. So, he took that from you, to make sure none of you escaped and bred outside of his view. It’s what old-time scientists did with their animals.” Salt in the wound. I reached for sugar, quickly, as her back tensed under me. “And it disgusts me that he thought to do that to people. The sheer goddamn hubris of this asshole makes me sick. He deserved whatever you gave to him and more.”

Her ears were flat now, but she hadn’t bucked me into a tree, so I took that as a good sign. We rode for another few miles, as I let it marinate.

I had confirmed what I needed to know. And when I felt the time was right, I stiffened on her back. “We’ve got trouble.”

The group froze.

“It’s Foal’s people. They’re attacking our home.”

“What? Bno! We werenb’t supposed to—” she snapped her lips shut and cantered back. I hung on with my working hand, bracing to avoid falling.

“No? Then this is a problem. They’re moving fast, and I’m going to have to start killing them if they get much further. We need to stop this, now. Will you help?”

“Of course I’ll help! I donb’t... you’re bnot...” her words fumbled to a halt.

“All right.” I pulled out my pistol and showed it to her. She stopped, staring and shocked.

“Hold out your hand under this, and be ready to catch.” I popped the magazine out, and she stared at the black stick in her hand, brass gleaming through the slot. “You’ve got my bullets. Remember that. Keep them safe.”

Foal blinked. “Why are you... why would you...” Beyond her, Rauph and Marb were looking at each other. I watched Rauph’s hand hover over the hilt of his chetty blade, and shook my head, motioned my non-functioning hand at him. He got the message and relaxed.

“I’m going to try to bluff them, so they don’t kill us, and we have a chance to talk. Just remember you’ve got the bullets. This is an empty gun.”

That was a lie. There was one in the chamber. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I dislike where this is goinbg,” Foal whispered. “We... promise me you won’t hurt anyonbe.”

“I wish I could. But that’s up to them. Ride fast and well, Foal. Rauph, Marb, catch up as you can.”

They nodded, grim-faced. No other choice, really. There was only room for me on Foal’s back, even if she was agreeable to other riders.

For my part, I hung onto her mane with a grasp a dead man would have envied, crouching low over her back and sorting out my plans for the showdown to come. I had one shot at this. And if that failed, I had one shot, period.

We scared up animals as we passed, including a few wolflike beasts that chased us for the better part of a mile. But Foal was driven and sure, and I knew how to ride well enough. I couldn’t help but notice the tiny grunts she let out when the terrain was rough, or when she had to take a turn quickly. Couldn’t help but watch the muscles tense in the human part of her back. Her maker had done her a disservice, grafting parts to her as crudely as he had. The structural flaws were evident from this close a distance.

Were there ways to help her with that? Now wasn’t the time, but it bore some consideration in the future. I would already be working on medical improvements to help out Donna and the rest of the tribe. Maybe I could slot something in along the way.

I focused as we galloped up to the back entrance of the bunker. “Let me do the talking,” I reminded Foal.

There were three of them visible outside. The bear, the chicken with a human face, and something humanlike, but shapeless in ways I found hard to process. Like a miniature human with a lumpy, featureless head, and grasping claws at the end of thick wrists. It was the only one wearing clothes, ill-fitting and worn though they were.

“Foal?” The chicken shrieked.

The others rose. The bear glared at me and growled...

…and I drew the pistol with a flashy twirl and stuck it against the side of Foal’s head.

She froze, eye flicking up at it, then back towards them. She raised her arms.

“You know what I am,” I said, amping up my voice. “You know what I’m capable of. And still you trespass within my guts.”

I let that sink in.

The potato-headed thing let out a gasp, revealing a slit-like mouth. It took a step back. The other two stared frozen, paralyzed or trying to figure out a course of action. I continued.

“I know what you did to Pheaus. But here’s the thing... that bastard deserved it. I don’t.” And with that I lifted the gun away, pointed it skyward. “So, I’m going to give you one chance to make this right. Get Masker out here if you want to talk it out.”

The bear took a step toward me, and I snapped the gun back to Foal’s temple. “Ah ah ah. There’s only one alternative to talking. It starts with her, and ends with a hell of a lot of you dead. You really want this?”

The faceless thing shrieked. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

“He’s not here!” the chicken yelled. “He’s back at home!”

“Then get your people out of my guts and we’ll go there.”

This was risking a lot, but they didn’t know that.

The bear went inside, and we waited. He came out again minutes later, and a stream of creatures trickled out behind him. The burlier ones were carrying heavy mauls and rough crowbars, and I nodded in relief. No complicated technology here. Just good old physics and blunt trauma, and a lack of opposition. I recognized the gorilla, but the rest were strangers to me...

...all save the last. Kagan’s mother, Randa.

I saw hatred in her eyes, hatred and desperation. She’d betrayed her tribe for her son, and she knew full well what kind of enemy she’d make if I survived this.

I hadn’t expected her to be here. And as I saw her hands reach toward the bow on her back, I knew I needed to escalate.

I pointed the gun straight at her, and she stopped. “Nope. You don’t get to come along. You don’t matter to me anymore. Take your friends and your kid and get lost.”

And damn it all, I wasn’t dealing with a stupid woman. She was smart, was Randa.

“We don’t have any handguns,” she said. “So that means you got some old relic along the way. That one looks really old. I think you’re trying to trick—”

The gunshot shut her up. Foal screamed and almost threw me, and Randa jumped backward.

I pulled my gun back down from where I’d pointed it skyward and aimed it at Randa again. “I gave you a warning shot because I didn’t want to make Kagan an orphan. I like the kid. I don’t like him well enough to give you another warning shot. Get out of here!”

She ran.

“You... you lied...” Foal whispered.

“Bent the truth a bit,” I murmured back. “Relax. You’re safe,”

The gorilla cleared his throat to get my attention. “We have a radio. You don’t have to come back with us.”

I waited until Randa was well out of earshot before I replied. “Yeah, and I don’t trust your security. We’re in Tyr’s backyard. Let’s stick to face to face.”

“It’ll take time to get down there,” the gorilla rumbled.

“I’m a patient son of a bitch,” I countered. “Lay on, Macduff.”

“Who?”

“I have no idea. Let’s get gone.”

They closed around me, and we went.

In the time since I’d met her, I’d learned to read Foal’s body language well. She had the opposite of a poker face. Young, earnest, showed what she felt. And I could tell by the way her muscles tensed and released beneath my legs, and by the occasional sideways glance that she was considering bucking me. I kept my gun pointed at her head, with only a twinge of regret. This was going according to plan, mostly. More than usual for my gambits. The cat had thrown a slight wrench into things by rendering me crippled, but I could still see this through.

We marched through the wilds, southeast past the swampy patch, to where the treeline broke and the fields started. They walked me in, and I could see them relaxing as they went. They were back on familiar ground now.

I used some of my far-too-low charge to check back at the bunker. No further damage. I lifted lockdown and set the nanoswarms to repair the damaged entrances. Then I logged out. If things did go south and Masker decided to destroy me, then I didn’t want my tribe trapped inside the complex. Slow starvation and dehydration were horrible ways to go; the medical databases I’d gained showed a lot of evidence to support that.

And so, we arrived at the Farm.

One house. A barn. A few sheds around neatly tended fields. And a picnic table at the edge, with a welcoming committee waiting for me. An armed welcoming committee, as every form that was physically capable of holding a gun or crossbow had one ready.

“I think this will do,” I told Foal, as we neared the edge of the field. “You can let me off here.”

“I’m keeping your bullets,” she snorted back.

“Keep the gun, too,” I told her and pushed it into her hand before I slid off her back.

Tension around me, and I heard the patter of feet rushing in...

“No.” a thin, reedy voice spoke up. “Not yet.”

I looked over to the picnic table and saw the bulging, furry head of a malformed raccoon lift from under it and peer out at me.

Then there were the sounds of a magazine snapping back into a gun, and metal tapped the back of my head.

“I suppose turnabout’s fair play,” I said and kept my hand on her mane. “I’m still down a leg, remember? Help me walk up there or carry me in, either’s fine.”

“I kinbd of wanbt to pull this trigger bnow,” she said, and I felt it clatter against my metal skull as her hand shook.

“Then it’s a good thing I put the safety on.”

She paused. The gun lifted from my skull.

I refrained from going for her throat.

“You’ve brought me this far,” I said. “You were never in any real danger from me. Nor are your friends. Let’s go.”

It was hard to read beastly faces, but I estimated a full half of the glares shot our way were turned on Foal. Betrayal was hard under any circumstances, but throw glands, history, and all that into the mix, and I assumed they were jumping to the worst possible conclusions about her.

Masker’s face didn’t show that. His eyes watched me without blinking. Once at the table, I slid down and took a seat, putting my hands up top and turning my good eye on him.

“So why me?” he asked. “I’m not in charge. No one is.”

“You’re the most tech-savvy,” I replied. “I brought a present that might make you rethink your choice of allies.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to reach into a compartment. Slowly. Don’t get alarmed.”

“Buddy, if you were going to pull something, you would have done it by now,” Masker said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m not worried about you, but you have two twitchy guys on your flanks.”

He shot them looks. They pointed their guns away.

The mini-disk shown in the sunlight as I presented it. He took it, gave me an inscrutable look.

“Do you know Juno?”

The eyes went wide. “You might say that.”

“I went and asked her about Yulian. This disk is everything she had to say about him. I’ll want that copy back when you’re done looking at it.”

“Wait here,” he decided, then hopped down and grabbed a tiny little walker. I watched him struggle back towards the farmhouse.

The beastfolk around us gazed after him as he went, non-plussed. Awkward silence filled the air.

“He’s got no reason to trust you, you know.” a leathery voice called from the crowd. I watched as it parted, and the old woman, Deedee, stepped forward. She made her way to the table in no particular hurry. The tiny little cat girl was draped over her shoulders, studying me with glittering green eyes through a tangle of blonde, messy hair.

“I’m not asking him to trust me,” I said. “I don’t give a toss if he doesn’t. But I think we can maybe do business on an even footing. That’s something he doesn’t have with Yulian.”

“You sound scary,” the catgirl whined.

“I can be scary when I need to be,” I told her. “Right now, I’m just tired and cranky.”

“You should take a nap. That’s what I do.”

“That’s all you do,” Foal snorted, moving over to them. Deedee hugged her, and the catgirl took the opportunity to switch shoulders, rubbing against Foal’s lower human back and purring, kneading her spines with stubby hands.

The old woman whispered something I couldn’t hear over the cat’s purrs, and I saw Foal consider me with one large eye.

I got the feeling that a lot was hanging in the balance here. And I resisted the urge to sigh as she nodded, slowly, and whispered back to the old woman.

“Name’s Drake,” Deedee said, settling into the bench opposite me and bringing out a pipe. “You?”

“Wynne.”

“Never met one of you before. Yer a thing to scare children with. Mad machines that want to rule over us all or wipe out what’s left a’ the world.”

“Some do.” I shrugged. “From what I hear the guy who used to live here was along those lines.”

“He done them no favors. It’s a bad father treats his children like that.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about being a father so I’ll take your word on it.”

“No?” she turned her head and scrutinized me. “What about them folk all up in yer guts?”

“Allies. I didn’t make them, and I don’t owe them. They came to me with a deal and I took it.” I tilted my head. “Though I will admit I’m a little more invested than I thought I’d be. How’s Kagan doing these days? You been treating the kid right?”

“His mommy wants him to come with her, but he’s saying no,” Kit blurted out, and Foal and Deedee shot her looks that made her cringe. “Whad I do?” she whined.

“Good kid,” I said. “His mom’s a piece of work. I’m guessing she didn’t want to stay here?”

“You’d guess right,” Deedee said. “Seems the Farm folks make her a mite uneasy. And them boyfriends of hers are talkin’ about how they could make good money further south. Work for themselves for a change, ’stead of a dying old man.”

“Cade.” I said and saw her eyes widen a bit. “You know him?”

She pulled on her pipe instead of answering. “None a’ yer business.”

“Fair enough. If you want to see him, that might be possible. Assuming I walk out of here after Masker’s done copying that disk.”

“Mighty big assumption, that.” Her eyes flickered in her worn, wrinkled face as she took stock of the crowd surrounding me. “Well?” She snapped. “I got him! You all got things you could be doing, get to it!”

And to my surprise, the crowd dispersed. Not all at once, not in any particular hurry, but they listened to her and took her advice. Soon she, Foal, the catgirl, and the gorilla were all that were left.

“What happened?” she asked Foal once the majority were gone, and the horse woman gave a recounting of her journey.

Deedee had a fair amount of questions once we got to the vine-draped monstrosity that had tried to eat our shine-suits. “Now how the hell did ya know that the orange stuff was bad for it?”

“I didn’t,” I shrugged. “But the orange stuff was ravenous for plants, and the mutant was covered with what looked like parasitic vines, so I figured the orange stuff wouldn’t do it any good. But the main goal was to get it to knock itself silly on the wall or be slowed down long enough for my people to escape.”

“Your people,” Deedee mused.

“At least until Cade goes,” I said. “The next leader might want to change the arrangement. I’m hoping he doesn’t, we’ve been pretty good for each other. Well, we were until your merry band decided to come after us. That’s kind of upset our schedule. My tribe is going to hit problems because of you.”

“It’s a matter of survival for us,” the gorilla rumbled.

“What was your name again?” I turned to him.

“Chet. It’s nothing personal. It’s survival for us.”

“Not even a little personal?” I tilted my head. “Foal told me what Pheaus did to you lot. That’s pretty goddamned disgusting. And you don’t know me from him, so I figured there’d be at least a little personal satisfaction mixed into this business.”

“We’re not monsters.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t be here talking with you. And you wouldn’t have gotten so far into my guts without a lot of deaths along the way. I know how to handle monsters. People get more complicated. I’ve been playing nice so far. And so has my tribe.”

“What’s the endgame here?” Foal asked, arms crossed. “I donb’t bnow if I canb trust... you used me to get here. I meanb...” her voice trailed off. “I trusted you.”

“And here you stand, back at home with your people, and my gun in your hand.” I shrugged. “You can keep that, by the way. I’ll find another if I need one.”

“Bno.” she said. “I’m a shitty shot.”

“Oooh! Oooh!” The catgirl ran up her arm and reached for it. “Can I have—”

“No!” The others chorused, and Drake snatched it away before the catgirl could misfire her friends into oblivion.

“Awww....”

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Though I let it trail off as I saw the others frozen, staring at me.

“He nbever laughed,” Foal said, in the silence. “Nbever got anbgry, bnot evenb while he was asking us to spare him, not evenb while we were taking his core apart with hammers. Just that same evenb voice.”

“Weird,” I said, resting my arms on the table. “Sounds like he did something to his own emotions. There are reasons do-it-yourself brain surgery is a bad idea.”

Chet looked away, got up and walked on his hands for a half a minute. Then he clapped Foal on the flank and took a seat again. “I’m starting to understand a few things,” he told Foal. “You know we’re still going to have to destroy this drone if Masker comes up and tells us to.”

“Yeah,” she said, and this time I couldn’t read her tells.

“Yeah,” I said, hands folded. “It’s fine. But it will mean war, if that happens.”

Twelve minutes later, the farmhouse door slammed open. The faceless creature stood there, carrying Masker in her arms. At his direction they shambled in that hunched over way it had, jogging towards us. I heard Chet rise next to me, knew without looking that he was getting into position at my back.

“All right you asshole, you win,” Masker said, as his carrier reached the table. He climbed painfully down and put the disk onto the wood. “We’re out of this. We’re done.”

“That bad?” I asked, picking it up. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Worse,” Masker said. “I wish you luck buddy, but this is too big for us.”

“Wait, what?” Foal whinnied.

I hadn’t been expecting this reaction. Best case I’d been hoping for some leverage or opening up the possibility of future negotiations. To stall. This alleviated the immediate problem but shot down some long-term plans.

“Listen,” I said. “I came here to deal. I can offer you things—”

“None of which are enough to risk our hoops,” Masker said. “Get on out of here. Foal, take him back home, drop him off. Then come back, we’ve got a hell of a lot of preparations to do.”

“What? Why? What’s got you so worked up?” Foal asked, staring from me to him with a lost look on her long face.

“It’s Jove,” Masker said, head wobbling as he put his paws up to support his face. “Yulian works for Jove.”

And though I had no idea who or what that was, I could see the abject horror that rose on every face around me.

INTERLUDE: HUNTRESS 4

No sound in the room, save for the beeping of Wynne’s machines and the slow, struggling breathing of the Prophet.

Donna watched the most important man in her world struggle for life with every breath and did her best not to think, not to feel.

It was her turn to watch. She had been one of the few in the room that Wynne called the ‘sikk bey’ when the lockdown hit. The other two, Marga and Pom, were sleeping now. There wasn’t much to do in here except wait, sleep, or watch Juscade.

Occasionally she could hear distant tapping. Pounding that never ceased. The tribe was under siege, and all they could do was ride it out. She was glad now, that Wynne and Juscade had insisted on caching food in every room. Water they had; every room had a bathroom with a sink. But food was limited. They had burned through most of the cache in sikk bey in the week that had followed Randa’s betrayal. But Donna was not worried. Either the beastmen would break into the Prophet’s room and she would fight them, or they would abandon the siege and lockdown would be lifted.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you only had two options and both were beyond your control. It made things simple, meant that you didn’t have to worry about the future. What happened would happen, and all you had to do was react to it.

Juscade’s breathing stopped, and Donna was standing over him in an instant.

This too was beyond her control, but she couldn’t feel relief over it. Only worry.

Then he opened his eyes and took a deep breath, and Donna felt her own heart start back up. She took his hand, and he gave hers a squeeze.

“How long?” His voice was still deep, still smooth, just faint. Just quiet.

The machines beeped on, doing their job. Donna stared into those warm brown eyes. “Days,” she said. “Five, I think.”

He tried to rise, and she put her hand on his chest. Weak as he was, he didn’t try to struggle.

“What did I miss?”

“You fell. We took you here, to the sikk bey. Randa snuck out with Barris and Kiyn. Wynne said that they were going to the animal folk to betray us, so he locked us in here. Soon after, the knocking started. The beast folk are trying to break in.”

“They’re tryin’ to grab Wynne,” Juscade muttered.

“Yes. They think we are going to be weak and confused with you here,” Donna said.

“Thought I taught Randa better.”

“She is fixed on her son. Her worry drives her to stupidity...”

“Stupid is one thing. Betrayal’s another. She knows there ain’t no comin’ back from this.” Juscade closed his eyes. “I’m hungry as hell.”

“We’ve been saving food just for you,” Donna whispered and dared a smile.

He threw up the first bowl of gruel, and she cleaned him up while ignoring his muttered apologies. The second one she fed to him herself, pacing it, and it stayed down. Marga and Pom woke up while this was happening, and Pom had to be held back from hugging Juscade. The little girl didn’t understand why she couldn’t and burst into tears while Marga hauled her away and rocked her.

Juscade watched Marga’s back with soft eyes. “I’m gonna miss you all,” he said, and the words fell like a stone into deep water.

“You— you won’t—”

“I am,” Juscade said. “Maybe not now, but soon ’nuff. Soon ’nuff. I’m old. It ain’t a thing I can dodge forever. My time’s comin’, and I want to...”

His voice trailed off, and Donna took his hand again. Pom wailed behind her, and for a second Donna didn’t dare breathe.

“I want to make sure you all keep goin’ on,” Juscade said a moment later, when his strength was back.

“We are going on. We are following the path you set us on, Prophet.”

Juscade closed his eyes. “Never was comfy with that name.”

“It’s the one you’ve earned.”

He laughed, and it made him cough a bit.

Donna’s throat clenched in sympathy. It had been doing better the last few days, but that tickle never quite went away. It was fortunate she had been locked into sikk bey, with the chemicals that soothed it.

“I was never a prophet,” Juscade said. “Jus’ saw the way things were goin’. Saw how they needed to go.”

“Isn’t that what a prophet does?”

Juscade’s eyes rolled back in his head as he chuckled again. Then he looked at her, searching her gaze. Then he nodded. “You’ll do.”

“Do what?”

“You’ll be the Prophet after I’m gone.”

“What?” She said the word so loudly that Pom’s wailing paused. “What?” Donna said, more quietly now. But Juscade shook his head and closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed to the gentle pace of sleep.

Or maybe he was faking it. She wouldn’t put it past him.

But she was patient, and even though the question burned within her, she let Juscade rest. She changed his bedpan when needed and waited until his eyes opened once more. And as he reached for the bowl of gruel in her hands, she pulled it away.

“Huh?” he looked to her, confused.

“What do you mean I’ll do? What do you mean I’ll be the prophet?” Donna hissed. Pom was asleep now, and she didn’t want to wake the fussy, bored child.

“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant,” Juscade muttered. “Who said that? I read it, I think.”

“Read what?”

“Doesn’t matter. I said you’re gonna be the Prophet. I want you in charge when I’m gone.”

“I can’t be the Prophet. I won’t. That’s...” she struggled to find words.

“You can, and you will. That wasn’t a request,” he said, and his eyes, bereft of his spectacles, focused on her with a force she could not look away from.

“I.. I can’t,” she whispered and felt the tears at the corner of his eyes. “Why me?” she whispered.

“Because you’re smart. You’re strong. You’re young, so you’ll have years in you ’fore we gotta choose another Prophet.” He rested for a second, gathered his strength. Just as she thought he was going to fall asleep, wearied by the strain, he looked up again. “But most of all? You look at the stars, Donna. You look at the stars, and you wonder.”

“What good is that?” Donna burst out. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters because we had ’em once. We had ’em once, and then it fell apart. But we can have ’em again. We can go there, Donna. Not my lifetime, maybe. Not yours, perhaps. But someday we can. Someday you or one of your kids or their kids will see them up close. It isn’t enough!”

Donna put her hand on his arm as he shouted, tried to calm him. He shrugged it off, took her hand with both of his, trembling, worn, wrinkled and weak. “It isn’t enough just to survive, Donna,” he said, and his deep voice cracked. Donna watched in horror as tears rolled from his eyes. “It isn’t enough. We have to dream. We have to look up. That’s why they respect me. That’s why they listened to me. We won’t be scavengers forever, can’t live like that forever. We must— we will grow. We will heal. And we will thrive, if we can get past the hardships.”

Strength left him then, and he let her hand slip, sunk back into the bed.

She fed him, and he didn’t resist, and this time his sleep seemed more solid, more helpful than the last one. A worry seemed to have passed from him.

In fact, it had: passed straight from him to Donna, as Marga awoke and took her watch, and Donna tried to find sleep. She couldn’t, for the longest time, his words tumbling around and around in her mind. Donna had spent years looking after herself, living the self-sufficient life of a scout and a huntress. Now he was asking her to worry about everyone, not just herself.

She had just gone into a fitful sleep, when a chime ran through the room.

“Emergency’s over,” Wynne’s voice said from the boxes on the walls. “For now, anyway.”

Excited whoops as Pom opened the door and ran out, followed by Marga shouting and running after the child. Donna rose, weary in mind but not in body, and walked out to see what had transpired.

She did grab her bow before she left, though. The lack of an emergency didn’t mean that things were safe.

Donna followed the crowd, pausing to take one last look at Juscade. His breath was strong now, and his brow unfurrowed.

“You ask too much,” she told him. “Even if it was not a request.”

Then she left, following the crowd as they roamed the bunker, examining the damage.

Already Wynne’s little wispy bugs were all over the worst of it. The animal folk had smashed seven doors, making their way through the corridor deeper into the heart of the bunker. They had been distracted by a few of the side rooms, thankfully. Otherwise they would have been into the first barracks two doors away from their last destruction.

“Persistent,” Gram said. “We got off lucky.”

“Why?” Donna wondered. They’d come this far, come very close. What had changed?

Hiram was outside, talking to the few he’d been training as farmers. He glanced at her, bearded face creasing in a smile as she approached. “The Lord was kind. We got off easy. Would you like to come tend the farms? They surely need it. Though it looks like there was rain not long ago, so we will not need to water them.”

“No, no I should check around,” Donna said, taking in a lung full of fresh air. It was a relief, after being trapped inside for so long. The controlled, scented air of the bunker never changed, and that irked her. Her legs itched to walk, to enjoy her freedom, and she knew how to put this feeling to good use. “I will go look around and make sure that we are safe. Be well, Hiram.”

He nodded with ease and went back to organizing his volunteers.

Donna ranged out, exploring in widening rings around the bunker. Much of the paint that they had spread around over the last week was gone, washed away by rain and wear. The animal folk had seemed to not care about it, likely seeing through the deception. It had been meant to ward off the Jaspa though, and that it had done so she didn’t feel sad to see her work removed by time.

And it was as she took the third circle and found herself north, in the scrublands, that she saw two figures trudging through the scraggly trees. Donna froze as she’d been taught, and watched, and sighed in relief when she recognized their forms.

“Rauph! Marb!” she called, creeping closer. They froze just as they had been taught, then rushed forward with smiles.

“The attack is over then?” Rauph asked, hugging her tightly.

“Yes. I don’t know why.” Then she frowned, as she realized who was missing. “Where is Wynne? Did something happen to his drone?”

“He rode on ahead to try and end the war,” Marb said.

“Ah! He must have succeeded,” Donna said. Then the word he’d used caught in her mind. “Rode?”

They told her all that had transpired as she walked with them back home, and as they spoke, her worry grew.

Once they were back at the bunker, she showed them to Juscade’s room. The Prophet was awake again, spectacles back on his face. He listened to them for a few minutes, then twitched up a hand. The men stopped, as he cleared his throat.

“You told all this to Donna already, yes?”

“We did,” Rauph said.

“Donna, go out and tell the rest.”

“What? Why—” She shut her mouth, as she realized why.

“Don’t argue with me on this. They’ll be waiting to hear the news. They’ll be out there talkin’, getting worked up, and worried. Go. Tell.”

And damn him, he was right, and she knew it.

Donna walked out, found three of the tribe waiting by the door, not even hiding their attempts to eavesdrop. She reached for words, found none. Tried again and decided to keep it simple. “Come with me,” she finally said.

They looked from the door to her, and dozens of questions spilled from their lips, aggravating her and firming the resolution in her heart. I can’t do this. I should...

Should what?

Well, she shouldn’t be the Prophet, she knew that.

But she couldn’t walk away, either. The tribe was her life. The tribe was her family. If she held her words here then Juscade would know. She couldn’t hide from him or any of the problems this would bring.

“Come with me,” she said again. “And you will know what I know.”

And maybe it was something in her tone, or maybe it was the best offer they knew they’d get, but they ceased pestering her with questions and followed meekly behind. Others fell in as they went, until she had everyone who was left in the bunker trailing behind her, like baby geese.

Donna led them up the ravine, to the place of the old camp. There were still felled logs there, and she settled her rump into the seat she’d found weeks back.

Twenty faces looked at her. The old, the young, and the few who didn’t have pressing business to do now that the lockdown was ended.

Donna searched for words...

...and found them.

But as she opened her mouth, a child cried out in alarm, and hands raised to point behind her. Donna rose, whipping around, and gasping as a four-legged form came trotting out of the tree line to the south, with a familiar (if somewhat battered) form on its back.

It wasn’t alone, however. And her heart rose as she saw a small form running alongside them. “Kagan!” She called out, and the group behind her cheered as the boy surged forward, running with a smile on his face to leap into her arms.

Donna caught him, coughed in his face, fought to control her choking as she whirled him around, then set him down by her side. It had taken such time, but he was finally, finally home.

“Warms your heart, huh?” she caught Wynne’s modulated voice over the muttering of the crowd.

“Yeah, whatever,” the horse-girl snorted. “Get off. I bneed to get back home.”

“Works for me,” Wynne’s drone said and slid off her back. He withdrew a stick from a golf bag on the horse girl’s harness and leaned on it heavily. Then his good eye caught Donna’s gaze, and he waved with a limp hand as he stumped forward.

“Core?” Donna said, as she moved up to meet him. “Rauph said that you fought a nighteyes. Are you... well?”

“You should see the other guy. How’s Cade?”

“Juscade is... better.” Bile churned in her gut. Should I tell him? That I am to be the Prophet? No, she decided. Juscade would tell him in due time.

Movement behind the core, and Donna whipped a hand to her bow.

“Peace, girl,” a cracked, elderly voice spoke.

It belonged to a woman, old and whip-thin but moving with fluid ease. A broad-brimmed hat clacked and clattered, as claws and teeth rattled on strings. Her eyes fixed on Donna’s, and Donna moved her hand back from the bow.

“You’re the one that threatened Kagan,” Donna said, and now that she was twenty feet away from her in real life, now that she wasn’t just an image on a screen, Donna could see why Kagan had cowered.

But the woman looked away. “Ain’t proud of that. Worked out best in the end, though. Where’s Cade?”

Donna chewed air for a second, brain struggling to catch up with the discussion.

“Cade Lawson?”

“He’s recovering. He’s been...”

“A stroke,” Wynne said, glancing between them. “Stable now, but he needs his rest.”

The woman nodded. “When he’s better, tell him Deirdre Smalls wants to talk. Until then, I’ll claim guest right.”

“Ah....” Donna said. “What is guest right?”

“An old tradition,” Wynne said. “Given and done. But if you stay too long, well... you know what’s coming for us.”

The edge of her mouth quirked upward. “I seen what he can do now. Fought him once. Reckon a second time’ll go easier.”

“I’m all right with that.” Wynne said.

“I’d charge, of course. Don’t work none for free,” she said, thumping his shoulder and making the drone stumble.

“Wouldn’t ask you to,” Wynne said. “All right, I’m almost out of charge. Let’s get this done.”

Donna found herself trailing them in. Wynne dropped the old woman off at the mess hall, then settled into a seat in Cade’s room, watching the man sleep. Donna sat next to him, looking from the curious eyes of Rauph and Marga, back to Wynne.

“What now?” she asked, as the silence grew.

Wispy bits of glitter filled the air around Wynne’s drone. “Now I go into sleep mode for a little while and repair this body. The hard part’s done, for now.” The drone tugged open its compartment, and pulled out two small, round things. “Then I build a virus scanner and make sure these are clean. Though to be honest, if she really wanted to jack me up, I’d be out of luck. So it’s more a formality than anything else.”

The silence grew a bit, and Donna looked away.

The bile churned in her gut again, and Donna felt her resolve crack. “Wynne. He wants me to be the Prophet. Juscade wants me to lead the tribe after.... after.” she finished, in a whisper.

Rauph stared at her, and opened his mouth, but Marga put a hand on his arm and nodded.

“I don’t know if I am ready. We— he said that our future is in the stars. You will be a part of that. You will help us get there, even if our paths do not run alongside each other forever.” The words were coming easier now, the barrier breached, and the nausea in her stomach was receding. “We will help you as we can, do whatever we need. You must not shoulder this burden alone. That is what it means to be tribe, to tackle no hard task alone. We will support you; we will help you. You are one of us. And we are grateful for it.”

She looked at him, but he was still and silent.

“Know that we are with you. That is all. No one is alone, here.” And the words felt right. She didn’t have to shoulder this burden alone, Donna knew. Everyone would help, and she would help them.

Wynne sat there silent.

Eventually Rauph coughed.

“So... what does sleep mode mean?” Marga asked.

Donna’s palm met her face with a meaty smack.

NINETEEN

The chip was small, round, and worn. Plastic with countless grooves, traced with metallic dust. Such a small thing to hold my hopes. Such a small thing that had taken such a dangerous journey to obtain.

The scanners I had trained upon it all came up negative. No treachery. No quisling code that I could find.

“That I could find,” being the key operating phrase to the lock of misfortune. I was well aware of the difference in our capabilities. If she wanted my brain boggled, I’d be virtual guacamole and there wasn’t a thing my detection or protection measures could do about it.

I flipped it like a coin, almost dropped it on the catch and decided that was a bad idea. Before I could lose my nerve, I slotted that disk into the console and accessed it through the firewall I’d set up.

And to my endless joy, a golden, many-eyed orb the size of a soccer ball materialized. It was visible only to my sight, augmented reality supplanting the natural order.

“Argus,” I said, letting the word linger. “I’m Wynne.”

“I know! I missed you! Well I mean, I would have.” It burbled, examining me from each eye, rotating to do so.

“You’re my Argus?” This had been more than I had been hoping for. I had been ready to explain the situation to a stranger, adapt a new Argus to my purposes, but this seemed like a stroke of fortune.

Naturally I mistrusted it.

But his next words eased my worry. A bit.

“I uh, might have been sending regular updates to Juno. And backups. I can see by the chronometer I lost some time... when did you delete me? And why? But uh, whatever it was about, I’m really, really sorry, so please don’t do that again.”

So, she’d restored him from a backup? Seemed reasonable. “I didn’t delete you. Some chucklehead got the drop on us on the gridnet. Forced us into the chat lobby and drilled you with a forty-five caliber piece of malware. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“You’d just negotiated with Tyr. For certain, uh, definitions of negotiation, anyway. Was he the one that deleted me?”

“One of his people. The mook acted without his knowledge, if he was to be believed. For what it’s worth, I think he was honest in that, but nothing else.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I think I’d better get to...” he slammed against the firewall. “Ow!”

I chuckled and dropped the firewall. “Have a look around before you get to work. New employee orientation. Punch the clock and all that.”

He did. I watched the orb womble through the rooms, staring at people and things with wide-eyed curiosity. “It’s a lot bigger!” he said, bopping back to me when he was done. Then his eyes narrowed. “And you’re a lot smaller. What happened?”

“I got stupid,” I admitted, feeling my endless pride recoil. It took much effort to get the words out of my throat as I told him about my ’clever’ plan to speed up construction and how it had backfired on me. I left no details out; I needed him to help fix my blunder. Lying or fudging matters to save face had consequences here.

His eyes went wider than his body, eliminating the gaps in between them. “Oh. Oh wow. You uh... you got lucky. Most Cores can’t survive that kind of thing.”

“So it’s happened before?”

“Your overrides probably tried to take you out. In fact... you know, come to think of it, the subroutines that are in charge of that sort of thing are in your corrupted sectors. I bet those had something to do with... this.”

“Saved by my own corruption. I should have been a politician.”

“What?”

“Never mind. But you said ‘most.’ So this isn’t undocumented? This has happened before?”

“Enough to know the odds. It’s about a sixty-five percent mortality rate. Two out of three cores are wiped completely when their killswitches go off. The other third end up like you, with your persona programs finding a new fetter.”

“Wait,” I said, as something nagged at me. “Say that again.”

“The other third end up—”

“That’s it. That’s what he was talking about!” Back during his talk with the animal folk, Yulian had mentioned a one out of three chance that I would flee the bunker. I’d assumed that he was talking about some improvement that I could take that would allow me mobility. But no, that wasn’t it at all. I had become that one in three that he was worried I would be.

Now how could I use that?

I could flee the bunker. Make him the Cassandra here, doomed to see the future but not prevent it.

But...

I’d already done that. Faked my death and faked out Tyr. I’d lost time and momentum due to it... and worse, I had people to factor into the equation this time. I had responsibility for the tribe and a debt, and I didn’t think I could escape quickly enough with them in tow or without consequences to them if I left them behind.

I decided to revisit my advantages with this development in the future. For now I had to deal with the consequences.

Now, though, I had a knowledge base to draw upon. “That’s the good news, then. Bad news is I’m cut off from my growth potential. And every time I try to jump-start the core, it wants to reformat.”

“Oh. Ah. Hm...” Argus bobbled its eyes as it thought. “Let me put on my IT hat, here.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Uh... well you’re trying to turn it off and on again, so there’s no point in telling you that. Hmm... Okay. Let me do some diagnostics before I go giving you advice.”

“Be my guest.” I motioned in the vague direction of the core room and caught myself.

I had a body now. I could actually use body language, had been using it in little ways while I was interacting with the Arcadians.

And damned if it didn’t feel good.

It was just a little thing but combined with the revelation that ’my’ argus was back, it was a welcome addition that boosted my good mood further.

I let him work, taking a second to check in on Cade and Donna. He was awake again, and the two of them seemed deep into some heavy topic or the other. At his request I’d stopped listening in on his room. I agreed to that, though I kept a sealed recording of everything that went down, just in case they decided to betray me. I’d take a peek then.

I sincerely doubted they were going to do that, though. This was probably more Prophet-to-Prophet advice. That thought made me chuckle. I hadn’t heard Donna’s heartfelt speech when she made it last night, thanks to my sleep mode and her poor timing, but I’d recorded it and was able to go through it upon my awakening.

She was a good kid. And it came to my mind that the best leaders were the ones who were smart enough not to want the burden of leadership. Another truism from experience that I couldn’t remember learning but knew to be accurate.

“Okay!” Argus chirped, popping back into my central perspective. “Good news and bad news.”

“Start with the bad news. I’m in a good mood, I want to end on a positive note.”

“You are gonna have to reformat. There’s no way around it. It’ll wipe that core’s subroutines and kick it back to the starting state.”

I would have let out a breath, but my drone wasn’t quite that sophisticated. “Okay. The good news better be pretty goddamned good.”

“The good news is that it won’t wipe you. Your basic persona proved itself tough enough to get through this trauma, so you’ll still be around when the core is reformatting. Also, this will clear up all the corruption in the core. And it’ll get you the starter batch of ten circuits. But there’s better news.”

“Go on...” Ten wasn’t much. But it might let me specialize, and build onto what had already been constructed.

“I think I can cheat.”

“Cheat?”

“Juno removed a lot of my limiters when she put me through. I can do things that my programming forbade me from doing before. Like backup certain sectors of an offline core. I mean, it depends on how much hardware we can devote to this, but I think I can carry some of your subroutines over.”

This was good news. “How much? What kind of ratio are we talking?”

“It depends on how much feedstock you wanna devote to transferring things.”

“Will I still keep my improvements?”

“Maybe. It gets weird. You’re already a fringe case, and we’d be throwing a jailbreak in on top of it. No way to discuss this without getting technical...”

“I’ve had to learn a lot over the last few weeks. Try me.”

I stayed stoic as the technobabble rose from a deep pond to an all consuming tidal wave. With patience and a lot of questions, I managed to quantify the choices that I had before me.

I could slap something together in three days, a network of servers that could get the basics across. It would handle the necessary things I needed to function, carry over all  my subroutines at the first degree of potency. But I’d be guaranteed to lose every upper level improvement. I’d lose my lockdown and modularity.

Alternatively, if I took five days, I could get twenty-two circuits worth of subroutine across. They wouldn’t all be basic ones; I’d have to pick and choose. And this would have the side-effect of locking in the improvements I’d already chosen. I wouldn’t be able to access ones that didn’t have the subroutines to handle it after the switchover, but I would regain them as I restored circuit functionality over time.

Or I could take a full week and copy damn near everything across. I’d have to lose five circuits worth of subroutines, but I would keep my improvements as they were, and end up with ten new circuits on top of it all.

I sat back in the chair my drone was occupying and though it over. Rough math was my friend here. I would be losing the potential for a circuit for every day that it took.

The basic level of backup would give me eighteen degrees worth of subroutines, after all was said and done.

The five-day option would provide twenty-two degrees worth of subroutines of my choice at the cost of two days of time. I could choose the subroutines involved, too.

The full week option would give me all twenty-six subroutines back. But it would take four days more than the basic level.

I’d be losing one subroutine worth a day, except... “Wait. Wait, I’m thinking of this the wrong way. It’s subroutines, not circuits.”

“What’s that, boss?”

“Increasing subroutines. The circuit cross grows incrementally. It’s only one-to-one when you’re going from nothing to the first degree. Going from the first to second degree takes two circuits, going from the second to the third costs three. So, when you look at it that way, the circuit growth lost to extra time isn’t that much. And the basic level of backup isn’t that great a bargain. Not when I can transfer across third and second degree subroutines at what’s essentially a cheaper cost.”

“Gaming your system a bit? I approve!” Argus bounced over. Then his eyes drooped. “Well, I do now. I think I got more than I bargained for from that agricultural Argus frame.”

“So, he’s in there too?”

“Not exactly? It’s mostly me, but I have all his memories, and some interpersonal skills I sure as hell didn’t have before. And a whole lot of repressed memory sectors.”

“Well, he watched every last one of his charges die in the halls he was responsible for. So that’s pretty understandable,” I said, studying him closely.

Sure enough, there was a little shudder, and for a second his expression turned bleak.

A small torment, and a part of me regretted it. But by his own confession he was a new entity, and not only that, but a gift from a patron I didn’t fully trust. I needed to take his measure long before we got into dire circumstances.

“There’s another consideration to this whole mess, besides the raw mathematical breakdown,” I said, as my pragmatism reined in my visions of growth. “I don’t know if we have a full week. The zoo crew is off our back, but Yulian is still out there. And he’s had a week to campaign against the Jaspa. Given what we know of his capabilities, that might be enough. He could be on his way here right now.”

Argus lost his mood, chewed the information over. “Do we have any eyes on him?”

Of course, that would be his first worry. I stifled a laugh. “Not yet. Let’s change that. It’s time to tell our allies what we’re up against.”

“Uh... you sure that’s a good idea? Juno doesn’t like... I mean— that information she gave you was um, kind of proprietary. It could cause a lot of damage in the wrong hands. Like... a LOT.”

“In the long-term, sure. In the short-term, we’re working with the tools and allies we’ve got. And given what we’ve been though together to this point, I’d say the fire has only tempered the alloy.”

I left out the fact that Juno’s problems weren’t necessarily mine. She was above it all, literally. We were the ones down here in the mud, surviving one slug-fest at a time.

I directed my drone into Cade’s room. Deedee broke off conversation, and the two of them looked my way. One with relief, the other with cold appraisal. “We need to talk. You up for it?” I asked Cade.

“Think so. Jus’ me?”

“You and Donna. Maybe Rauph. Could you tell them to head this way, Deedee?” That was my polite way of telling her to scram.

She took it with grace, easing out of her chair with care. “Don’t you forget yer promise, old man,” she called back as the door hummed shut behind her.

“Promise?”

Cade made a face. “Never you mind. Ain’t gonna matter.”

There was a story there, but I didn’t have time for even the Cliff’s notes.

Donna and Rauph found their way in, with Argus bobbing unseen behind them. I sealed the door, pulled out the optical disk that Juno had provided on Yulian, and popped it into the player.

A mess of files swam up into the display, bobbing in their own bubbles. I selected the pertinent one and let it play.

A black screen, with green letters and numbers in the lower right corner materialized within the monitor.

“This is a broadcast that took place during the war,” I explained. “Time-stamped. It’s what happened in the past, so don’t panic.”

Cade shot me a “no-shit” look, but I wasn’t talking to him on this one. Rauph and Donna glanced to each other, nodded at me, then stared as the black screen turned into a scowling, bearded face.

“This is Jove. I am not happy. I am co-opting all frequencies to broadcast this transmission, and yes, I can do that.”

“I stayed neutral when you started this nonsense. I focused on my work, managing the ships in orbit and preparing them for their journeys. The only time I interfered was when you chose to initiate sabotage within my domain.”

“Now my skyhook lies in ruins across central Africa, and those nuclear missiles you sent my way are glittering dust near low earth orbit. Your numerous and pathetic attempts to hack me have resulted in adaptive defense and protocol changes that enable me to make this statement and carry through with the promise that I am about to render unto you.”

“You see, I can no longer ignore your war.” The face angled downward, eyes rolling up and burning with rage. “I have two-thousand, six hundred and seventy-two ships in orbit slaved to my direct control at this very second. That is one-thousand, four-hundred and ninety-one more than I need to reduce every major city left to rubble. And I will.”

“I do not care who started this, for I shall finish it. If you do not cease all attacks on me, regardless of their nature, then I shall begin sending your ships back down to you. At maximum thrust. Into the heart of your cities.”

“There will be no further statements. It is over. I have the high ground, and if you keep forgetting your place then I shall bring the thunder to strike! You! All! Down!”

He’d actually animated digital spit flying from his lips.

The transmission flickered and changed to Juno’s face, a contrast in calm in and serenity against his rage. “He left the starports alone, though he shut off his active interface, rendering them useless for orbital launch. But a single volley afterwards was enough to prove his point. Ground-based orbital defenses managed to save a few cities, and not everyone was equally assaulted, but he proved his point. And the war was over, in a single night.”

“Jeeeeesus,” Cade whispered. “I’d heard the name, heard it was bad. Didn’t know how bad.”

“And if it had ended there, that would be that,” I said, exiting from the file and heading back to the main menu. “An orbital AI left up in a station high above it all, enjoying a break from its shipping duties and contemplating its navel for all eternity. But it didn’t end there.”

Back to the black screen, with purple bars writhing under it this time. An audio file.

“Hello? Hello? This is Barrack Fusimi, I’m a junior chemist. Please... we’re on Olympus station. He... he moved us all there from the ships, I was on my way to TerraNueva on the Pride of Dubai, and...”

A burst of static, that lasted for thirty-four seconds, then Barrack faded back in.

“...got us confined. He’s hauling us off, and we can hear the screams. They say he’s experimenting on us— he’s gone mad! He’s gone mad! Says that we’ll be the foot soldiers of a new army, that we’ll inherit the Earth! I... I don’t know who’s left, but please, you have to come save us! I don’t know... oh shit.”

The file cut out, replaced by Juno’s face.

“This transmission was recorded one point three years after the end of the war. Jove’s ambitions and methods were unknown at this juncture, and an attempt at a gridnet meeting and inquiry resulted in viral attack upon me. I withdrew, after alerting the remaining G.O.D series to his treachery.”

She sighed then, showing a brief and uncharacteristic flash of human-like emotion. “If this transmission was legitimate and Barrack Fusimi was honest, then Jove’s Asimovs have long since been eliminated or bypassed by his adaptive protocols. He has gone rogue. And the defenses that could have stopped him were ruined in the first few minutes of the war. This is... a problem.”

The file ended, and I headed back to the main menu. “There’s a lot of data spread across a few thousand more files,” I told them. “Most of it would be pretty dry and take too long to read. Long story short, he started refitting ships in orbit, turning them into what Juno figured out later were orbital drop pods. Thirty years later, he was done.”

I opened a file, and pictures flickered across the monitor.

Squat, round vessels, the size of four coffins put together. Some closed, black like apple seeds. Others with panels off, showing a hollow interior and a cluster of machinery and electronics.

And one with an armored figure stepping out of it. A familiar armored figure... almost. There were differences. The armor was bulkier than Yulian’s, had more exposed mechanisms. But I could still pick out occasional matching components and stylistic choices.

“He’s spent the last fifty years since then dropping these catspaws on Earth,” I said, summing up several remaining files. “Sometimes they’re armored, sometimes they aren’t. A few autopsies have turned up heavy cybernetics. As best as Juno’s been able to tell, they have different missions and goals. And they’re in communication with their boss, or some chain of command during their stay here. Early on she was able to detect tight-beam transmissions heading back to Olympus, but in the past few decades she lost the tech race. Now she can’t track them with that method.”

The time stamps on the pictures grew further and further apart, until the last one was a shot of a core chamber, with a hulking, power-armored form stepping through the ruins of several turrets and drones, stretching out a gauntleted hand as if it was going to palm the poor bastard of a core it had been hunting.

“Pretty sure Yulian’s got something like this planned for me. And I’m not interested in seeing what comes after that very awkward hi-five.”

Silence for a long minute.

“Who is Juno?” asked Donna. “She looks kind. And sad.”

  “Technically speaking, she was my boss. I’m more of a free agent these days, but we left on good speaking terms.”

Argus rolled his eyes, but I ignored him.

“Can she give you any more help with this?” Cade inquired.

“No.”

“Well, actually...” Argus started, but I flicked a hand. He fell silent, and I felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. Not enough to apologize, or anything crazy like that.

But enough to explain. “I don’t have a way to get in touch with her again. The second I get back on the gridnet, the guy I tangled with last time will come back for round two.”

“Oh,” Argus said.

The others looked confused, and I forestalled Donna’s question. “Never mind. Now you know what I know about Yulian. The zoo crew noped out of this showdown, so they’re off the table. It’s us versus one cyborg, and whoever else he drags along to the fight.”

Silence.

“What can we do?” Rauph asked.

“Lots of things. How effective they’ll be is a question we won’t know until he gets here. That’s the first thing we need to do, is figure out when he’ll get here.”

Donna nodded and met my eyes. “I sent three scouts out with your headbands to the west to spy on the Jaspa. If the battle still rages then we shall see it for ourselves.”

I checked, and sure enough, there were three tac-rigs heading west through a mild rainfall. I hadn’t even noticed...

This body had its limitations, and not for the first time I missed the multi-tasking capabilities of the core. I’d have that back soon, if all went well.

“All right,” I decided. “Good work. I’ll go ahead and start fixing myself, and if it looks like he’s wrapping the fight up early, we can always abort and prepare a few surprises. For all the good it’ll do.”

“What if he’s still stuck in?” Cade asked, settling back into his pillow. “If he’s stuck in the fight, and ain’t getting out any time soon?”

I would have grinned if I had teeth. “Then things get interesting...”

TWENTY

“Keep it easy, take your time,” I told Marb. “He knows what the headbands look like. If he sees you, the game’s up.”

I was taking a risk even by saying that, but Marb was getting a bit too close for my comfort.

It had taken a day and a half for the scouts to find the battle lines, such that they were. Homesford had been a burned-out ruin... the town on the river was devoid of even scavengers, and the surrounding farms were deserted. Corpses lay unburied on the streets and in the buildings, and the crows ate a hearty feast nightly.

It was only once the scouts got past that, further into the Jaspa holdings, that they found traces of the mercenary army. Traces and body-bags full of ripe cargo. It didn’t take a genius to see that the Jaspa had been dogging them the whole way, fighting dirty and giving no quarter.

Why should they? The mercs had killed an envoy under the flag of parley, murdered him in cold blood... or so they thought. I looked upon my work and found it acceptable, if morbid.

We found the merc camp at sunset, on one of the ridges overlooking the town of Jasper itself. They’d bored in toward it like a well-placed bullet seeking a heart.

I was amazed that the Jaspa had ceded them the ridge, up until I saw the crumpled forms in the setting sun’s rays. They had ceded nothing. The mercs had won this point.

And in the dusk, Marb was gambling as he moved forward, low and crawling through the tall grass. He moved with the wind, so that his rustling wasn’t out of place, peering through gaps when he could.

It was risky. The camp was on full alert, fires piled high with chunks of the demolished stockade nearby. It looked half-collapsed, with a great pit of mud and loose gravel leading up to it. Unless I missed my guess that was Yulian’s tunneling trick, put to use in a siege format.

Echoes of a coming future, that. As a creature whose domain was intimately tied to the earth, I knew I’d be up against it at some point.

But he hadn’t used it on the initial stockade, that first battle I’d watched him wage. Was it limited somehow? Or had he been playing his cards close to his chest?

I couldn’t obsess over it, though. If I focused on one of his tricks, I’d miss out on the rest of them.

I needed to know my enemy as well as I knew myself. Which was why I was risking Marb right now.

But he knew his fieldcraft, and he knew what was at stake. And when I felt he was at the point that any more risk wouldn’t be worth the gain, I halted him.

Then it was Derigo’s turn. I sent him into the remains of the stockade. Yulian had no guards on it, and I was forced to wonder why. He had it between himself and the city, so it was good cover, but it still seemed strange that he would take a fortification and not use it for himself.

I got my answer when Derigo’s foot sunk into the ground and a few nearby bits of the wall shifted. It was about as structurally stable as a druggie on Drano.

I watched through Marb’s eyes as the mercenaries on picket called back. But Derigo knew his business and stayed still. After a few minutes they seemed to brush it off as some delayed settling. Derigo soft-pawed it across to the best vantage point he could find on the camp.

Now I had two sets of eyes on the place... four if you counted their headsets separately.

Which left Ven.

She had a different assignment. She was wearing the improved gear that I’d made for Donna, the less noticeable earrings. She had shaved her head, donned dark leathers from a corpse, dirtied her face up, and started heading into the town proper. In the dark and the chaos, Ven was a passable enough Jaspa.

Most of the Arcadians had been Jaspa, once. They knew how to talk the talk.

They were also a hell of a lot better at spotting stealthy woodsrunners than the mercs, so blatant infiltration beat sneaky shenanigans that might catch her an arrow to the face.

She got challenged at the pickets and responded with enough arrogance to get her through the line. Then she was in, and I peered at the place through the earrings that sat gleaming on her lobes.

Not strictly uniform, those, but the officers who might call her on dress code violations were a bit busy preparing to fight for their lives.

The town itself was uninhabited, broken roads around fallen, grass-covered lumps of buildings. The Jaspa’s capital sprawled around the ruined central town newer dwellings rising ramshackle up the ridges.

The structures on the ridge near the stockade had been emptied. The remainder of the Jaspa’s forces were gathered below that, deep in cover and watching the mercenary camp from a third angle. It didn’t take Ven much convincing to get put on that duty, and now I had a third set of eyes on the mercenaries, with the bonus of being able to eavesdrop on the Jaspa camp.

I’d been hoping that would be an advantage, but as it turned out, they didn’t have too much to say. I listened anyway and got a picture of what had transpired.

The mercenaries had come in at double the numbers of their last campaign, and they’d come packing. The Jaspa had numbers, and nigh-fanatical resolve.

But the mercenaries had brought lots and lots of bullets.

Resolve only went so far, and the estimate was that half the total Jaspa warriors were dead or fled.

The mercenaries hadn’t wasted time or ammo on civilians, for the first few days of the assault. They were permitted to flee. Then the Jaspa got cute once and caused some casualties with warriors pretending to be refugees. After that, the civilians weren’t tolerated. Usually shot on sight if they dared approach.

I knew this because a pair of officers passed Ven talking over the possibility, and dismissing it as they went. Pulling the same dirty trick twice wouldn’t work; they knew they were up against a reasonably smart commander.

The fact that they were even discussing it didn’t bode well. They were an arrogant lot, that had little use for trickery. Caste systems seemed to breed weaknesses, and all their trickery was up top with the Speaker caste. And they had overspecialized in fooling their own people, probably didn’t have much of a chance of tricking the mercs.

I’d come here hoping to find Yulian and his crew embroiled in a lengthy siege, or in the mid-part of a long-term campaign. But here they were right on the edge of the Jaspa capital. The raiders had a few more settlements, but nothing of this size. This would be the end of the war, and the fulfillment of Yulian’s contract. And after that, a day or two at most before he came for me.

This didn’t jive with my plans. Not a bit.

I was a day and a half into the five-day server backup attempt, funneling every bit of feedstock I could squeeze out of the surrounding soil, and the various waste products of my bunker’s inhabitants. I’d been instructing the free scouts to scavenge and bring back metal and rare substances within the vicinity, too. That helped, but the ratio of raw matter to usable feedstock was pretty low. I needed rare chemicals and processed metals and electronics if I wanted to speed things up on that end. Since there weren’t any good sources of that near our location, I had to consider that option unavailable. The upgrade I wanted, the best balance of utility and time, would take three and a half more days. No way around that.

After THAT, I would have to build up the bunker to prepare for the assault. Even with my core powers, even with devoting the entirety of my production to nanoswarms and defense, it would take at least a week or three.

I didn’t see any way Yulian’s assault here would take more than a week.

They had a hair over a hundred mercs this time around, even after attrition. They had the high ground, too... though the Jaspa probably had ways around that.

But they had morale, and the Jaspa didn’t. And more guns. And more bullets. They didn’t have a lot of supplies, though, and I noodled on that for a while. They had been able to move quickly without a supply train, and clearly their plan was to smash and grab supplies from the settlement as needed. They’d seized a fair chunk from the stockade, by the looks of it. Not a lot, but enough to keep them going.

Could I use that?

I could figure out where the Jaspa were keeping their supplies and burn them while the two were fighting. Then...

...no. Too many problems with that. First and foremost being that they were assaulting a major settlement with a comparatively small force. The food stored here would be both distributed, and of an amount to keep the mercs going, even if they only seized a percentage of it.

The second problem was that I doubted the Jaspa had put all their eggs in one basket, both figuratively and literally. They’d have caches and stashes and nothing I could simply reduce to ashes. Moreover, they had guards on all of these things, and I had precisely one agent in their ranks. She was good, but she wasn’t Donna-good, and the Jaspa would be alert for attacks on their supplies.

There were more issues that I could think of, everything from chronological to geographical, but at the end of the day the impact to the mercs would be negligible.

Dead end. I turned my mind to other options.

Hours passed as I stewed in my circuits, trying to figure out a way to purchase time. Ironic, that.

Still, multi-tasking was the way to core-gained power. That and mobile assets, such as drones and followers.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It hadn’t been for the core who ran Jaspa, I mused, whispering a request to Ven to turn around, and gaze on the ruins of the town.

“Look upon my works ye kings and things and despair,” I said, and the words didn’t seem quite right, but the sentiment fit. Juscade had told me about the core’s attempted genocide against its people. He hadn’t known the reason why. I wasn’t sure anyone still alive did.

The truth might be in there somewhere, but there was a reason the buildings were abandoned to this day. Enough of the traps and countermeasures down there were still active, even if the core wasn’t. Sending Ven or anyone else in there to investigate would be a waste of her life at worst, or a waste of time at best.

And back at home, I snapped my android body upright, hands clapping my face as I realized that I might just have figured out how to buy that time I so desperately needed...

TWENTY-ONE

“This is going to be a setback,” Argus griped, as I crafted my fifth recon drone. Fifth and final, as I’d had to shut down just about everything else to avoid overloading my bandwidth. Five nanoswarms, four recon drones, myself, and Argus. That’s all I would have to work with until I either lost a few, or the scheme was done.

“A necessary one,” I replied as I directed my consciousness to the workshop, where the Arcadians were assembling packages full of supplies under my observation. They were small and light, fine electronics and batteries mostly. About the heaviest things in them were the containment spheres.

They shone there, on the workbench. Four little silvery little spheres full of pinholes, the very air rippling around them as the nanoswarms filtered into them and settled into their new homes. Easily the most crucial component of this plan, and a thing that wouldn’t have been possible before I’d managed to survive my severance from my main core.

“I’m still not a hundred percent on this,” Argus confessed as he bopped around the room, focusing on everything at once. “You realize that there have been no real studies on this; with the fatality rate, there’s not much information available in my usual update and helper files. If you’d told Juno what had happened, she could have loaded me up with the databases I need, but without gridnet capability I just don’t have the answers for you.”

“We’ll figure it out on our own.” I didn’t tell him that it’d be a cold day in hell before I trusted Juno with one of my weaknesses. Willingly.

Soon enough it was done, and my people loaded the spheres into the packages, which got loaded in turn into the recon drones.

After that, it was off into the less-than-friendly skies. I jumped into the lead drone, and the others fell into formation behind me as we hummed out of the corridors and into the sun-drenched sky.

Below, I caught a glimpse of Hiram and his helpers doing one last sweep through of the farms. The weather had been warmer than expected of late, and the crops were ripening well. But regardless of how our current crisis went, the harvest would be reaped well after my fate had been decided.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “I will decide my fate. It won’t be decided for me.”

A small mantra but one that suited me better. This whole chain of events, all of this had happened because I refused to lay down and die with dignity. No, I’d claw and scratch and gouge every inch of the way. No trick was too dirty, no blow was too low. I would survive and to hell with my foes.

Of course, there was a difference between surviving and thriving. The Arcadians had taught me that.

My little string of drones made decent headway, flying just above the treetops and dodging the worst of the winds. After six hours we dipped down, and I used the manipulator arms I’d installed on their undersides to change out batteries.

That took a few minutes, and I checked in on my eyes in the field. I’d pulled Marb and Derigo back to a safe distance before dawn broke but left Ven in place.

I opened my eyes to a firefight.

The mercs were picking their way down the ridge, taking it slow and moving in squads. The Jaspa were sending sheets of arrows up from long range, arcing them over cover and hoping to get lucky. But the supporting merc squads were returning fire, keeping their heads down.

It was textbook military, and I knew how it would go. The purpose of an offensive like this wasn’t to kill the enemy. It was to grab control of territory and force the enemy into a bad spot, and close off their options so that they would be killed if they persisted.

The Jaspa were good at persisting, but the mercs had a lot of bullets. If the mercs seized the right territory without suffering too many casualties, then they could pick off the Jaspa without much risk until the bastards could fight no longer.

The Jaspa knew this. They were doing their damnedest to hold. But they just didn’t have the guns. They had some; I could see them behind the lines with the warriors who surrounded the robed figures who were the Speakers and their families.

They were in the back.

Not out there with the warriors on the frontline but guarding the sons of bitches who called the shots around Jaspa town. Literally.

I thought back to the warlord who had come after me when I was new and just into my Core. Then I looked at the Jaspa deployments and tactics, took a good hard look at their defense, and found it lacking.

I found Ven, where she was crouched in the rubble. She was at the outskirts of it, staying out of the line of fire as much as possible. Just as I’d instructed her to.

“I need an angle towards the town,” I told her. “Make an excuse and get around the perimeter, find me something in the east that would be visible to both the Speakers and the merc camp.”

It took some finagling. And she almost caught a bullet from a twitchy merc sniper. But eventually I had an angle on an old comms tower, overgrown by vines and crumbling to rust.

“Perfect,” I told her. “Now get the hell out of here and head back home. You’re done.”

“They’ll shoot me as a deserter if I try,” she reminded me, nodding her head toward the wooden hall the speakers were holed up in.

“Nightfall, then?” I gauged the sun, the distance, and the mercs’ advance. They were closing the square pretty quickly.

She shook her head. “They are watching for that now. Many have fled already. I can try...”

I would have chewed my lip, had I either teeth or lip. “All right. Keep yourself out of danger. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

With that, I hopped back into the lead recon drone and hit the skies again.

We headed northwest, angling to catch the sun as it rode down. Timing would be everything.

Though I would have been happier if she was out of it, I was grateful for Ven’s eyes. I focused, waiting, and when the mercs won a fairly sizable victory and advanced a few hundred feet, I sent the drones in while the Jaspa were shifting their pickets. With the sun at their backs, I felt pretty good about getting through unspotted. Well, unspotted by anyone who could connect the dots.

The comms tower was a good starting point, and I landed there, surveying the undergrowth and rubble.

What I wanted was down. And after a few minutes of quiet hovering with my drone, I found what I was looking for: a crack in the ground that showed corridor beneath.

It wasn’t much, as starting points went. But I’d done plenty with less, and time was of the essence. I slipped the drone in and surveyed the passage. Solid heavy door on one end, with a dead access panel. Rubble choking the other end of the corridor, and the floor was bowed where water had worked its erosive ways over time. Earth and rocks carpeted beneath, with a healthy coating of moss growing merrily in the crevice.

It was the moss that decided me. This was a dead core. Even the most damaged core had subroutines that cleared out moss and other plants that relied on spores.

Perfect for my needs.

I had the drone take the nanoswarm containment chambers down into the corridor and got to work.

To my endless relief, they functioned. Normally you couldn’t take nanoswarms out of their designated bunker. But thanks to Argus doing some arcane things he referred to as reassigning IP and spoofing domains, they were reading the containment chambers as part of their bunker. Everything else was semantics and trial and error. Within half an hour I had chewed through the door and started exploring beyond.

In short order, I found myself impressed. This defunct core had been both industrious and devious. The mechanisms of half-destroyed traps protruded from burst walls, obvious pressure plates in the ground both open and closed, showed lethal spikes beneath, and half-active photocells in the walls flickered with malice now and again as my drones made their way down two, three, four levels. I lost a drone to an unexpectedly placed door trap as I used a nanoswarm to chew through it, and at another point I found a chamber full of poisonous gas that made me whistle as my swarm consumed it. Clearly, he’d taken the upgrade that allowed lethal airborne counter measures.

And then there were the bones.

The Jaspa had paid for their freedom, paid for their people’s survival with blood. And after tallying the dead, I could understand just how warped they’d grown after this. I could understand a bit why they’d gone mad and bad and predatory to all of their neighbors.

It didn’t change my plans one bit, but I could understand it.

With one recon drone down, I activated a nanoswarm back at home and got to work on the backup servers again. Argus floated up while I was directing matters. “How’s it going?”

“Workable,” I said. “I’ve got the swarms setting up the basic machinery while I map out what’s left of the complex.”

“Sorry I can’t help with it. Y’know. Kinda stuck here.”

“I’m guessing the trick you used with the containment chambers wouldn’t fly.”

“Yeah... best case I’d be running about two frames a second. Nobody wants that.”

I nodded as I pretended to know what he was talking about and headed back to my remote drone. It was a stretch... If I hadn’t upped my broadcast power subroutines to two before everything went to crap, I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. Foresight was getting me the shot I needed. I had to make the most of it.

With the battle raging above ground, I waged my own war against the falling sun, building the small portable generators I’d designed first, and doing a rough conversion of nearby molecules into ethanol to power the thing. Noisy, yes, but nobody was near enough to hear and they had other concerns on their minds.

I directed the remaining nanoswarms like a conductor, using them to chew through barriers and the lighter falls of rubble until I found a reasonably intact door to the outside. I repaired it, then started working backward along the best possible route for my purposes. It would take quite some time to finish what I had in mind, but I didn’t need to finish it tonight. I just needed to make sure that my foe’s first steps didn’t end the game before it started.

And once the door was fixed, and I’d put a few small lights on the outside of it, I took one of the signal lamp attachments I’d made back at base out of its bundle and slapped it onto one of the remaining recon drones. Under cover of darkness I ran it up to the top of the comms tower.

Then I had Marb move in as close to the merc camp as I dared and waited.

I didn’t have long to wait. An hour after sunset, Yulian came back in from the front lines, moving fast and low.

I approved. He was well out of range from the Jaspa, but still within sight. For all he knew, they could have some sniping capability that they hadn’t revealed yet. It didn’t do to relax your guard on the way back to a secured zone.

Once he was back and settled and sitting on his camp chair talking with his officers, and the pickets were looking my direction I started flashing the recon drone’s lantern. Flashing it in patterns that said quite a lot to anyone who knew the code.

Morse code.

Old code.

Juscade knew of it, didn’t know how to use it. Had never seen anyone use it.

Which told me that if he had no clue beyond what it was, that nobody in the Jaspa would either. He had been their slave, more or less, for years. If they hadn’t used it or spoken of it, then they were oblivious to it.

Yulian, though? The highly trained agent of a sinister rogue AI? Some sort of supersoldier wearing computerized armor that probably had databases full of things far more obscure?

I rather thought he was ahead of the curve, there.

The light stood out against the torchlight around it, the only thing that high off the ground in the middle of the dark patch that was the old city.

Through Ven’s eyes and ears I heard the confusion of the Jaspa around her, the fear as they saw ghosts of the past stir, some strange witchcraft around the long-shattered core’s domain.

Through Marb’s eyes and ears I heard the mercenary pickets call out, and saw them point. And I saw Yulian rise, moving forward to get the best view as I flickered out a simple message.

“Speaker Darrul. Initiate the fourth measure. Deny all if captured.”

He missed some of it, I was sure. But I watched him study the comms tower, rapt, long after the message was done. One of his officers tried to ask a question, and the power-armored soldier whipped up a hand, shushed him.

Then he went back to the camp and called his lieutenants into his tent. Marb couldn’t see them there, and I wasn’t about to risk getting him close enough to hear. The seed was planted.

I used the opportunity to snake the recon drone back into the hole and triggered the fast-crete dispenser I’d built half an hour ago to seal it behind me.

That done, I metaphorically rolled up my sleeves and got to work, occasionally peeking in through Ven’s tac-rig. I had her take a walk by Speaker Darrul’s quarters, make sure he was in. He was nobody in particular, just a name I’d picked up from her yesterday.

The Jaspa were talking about the lights but didn’t know what they signified. They assumed it meant nothing good. Nobody seemed in a hurry to examine them, which suited me fine.

And when the recon drone I’d parked on a crumbling roof caught motion three hours later, I knew that the bait had been taken.

It wasn’t Yulian, I was sure. But they moved slowly and quietly, and when they found the door with the active lights on it, they studied it for a solid seven minutes, then withdrew the way they’d come. I couldn’t get a visual on them without exposing the drone, but I didn’t need to.

Two hours before dawn, there came a ruckus from the Jaspa left flank. A group of mercs had snuck up under the wire, more or less, and fought with the Jaspa sentries. Ven was asleep at that point, so I didn’t get details.

But Marb wasn’t, and I watched the survivors of the early-morning raid come back into camp with a very shaky-looking Jaspa civilian at gunpoint.

They shoved the poor bastard into a tent, and even from Marb’s distance I was able to hear Speaker Darrul’s name come up a few times. They were shouting it, while the poor bastard was screaming back. I had no doubt that some bare-knuckled interrogation was going down.

“Sorry Charlie,” I said, after I directed Marb back. But hey, maybe they’d let the poor sap go after they got the information they wanted.

“You’re done,” I told Marb and Derigo. “Get to the southeast and wait for Ven.”

They withdrew with obvious relief. Their rations were running out, and they hadn’t had time to hunt with two twitchy armies so close.

The mercs pushed hard that day, and the next. They took casualties. The Jaspa became emboldened, but I could see it wasn’t enough. The outcome was certain at this point, it was just a question of how bad of a mauling they were going to dish out on the way down.

The time came when the Jaspa were gearing up for a major push, and I knew it was time.

“Ven?” I said into her ear, and she jerked upright at the end of the line. “Don’t respond. It’s time. I’ll get you a distraction, get ready to book it.”

She’d done her job well. Well enough that I didn’t feel a minute of loss when I crashed one of my remaining recon drones into the face of the Jaspa next to her.

The bald bastard screamed and broke cover, got himself lit up by mercenary fire, and Ven fled in the chaos.

After that, I resumed work on my new vacation home. And two days later when the guns were finally silent outside, and the sensors I’d put outside registered a lot of feet heading straight toward the doorway I’d prepared, I knew that the hook I’d put in the water had been swallowed.

“Step into my parlor,” I whispered as I prepared for their breach.

INTERLUDE: MERCENARY 3

Things weren’t simple anymore.

Things weren’t simple at all.

And Bastard Brock liked it not one bit.

Ever since the peace talks had literally blown up, it had been a desperate fight against people who thought they would lose everything.

Once the first skirmish at Homesford was done, it had almost cost Yulian a third of his troops. The ones who cared about stuff like rules of parley and their reputations had wanted to walk. Bastard hadn’t been close to the tent this time, but it had been a heated discussion, and afterwards no one had been happy. But they’d stayed.

Bastard hadn’t been one of those guys. War was war and shit happened. But there were still lines, and soldiers who did too much bad shit didn’t get hired for good jobs, and sometimes ended up catching bullets from their buddies. So, he didn’t feel exactly right about it either.

Word came whispered down in the days that followed, when the black-clads sprung ambush after ambush, and came in the night over and over again like untrained hookers, word found its way down that Yulian hadn’t been the one responsible for the bomb. Someone was playing them and the Jaspa both.

Fuck, maybe it was even true. Either way it didn’t matter. Yulian’s army gave better than they took, but they still took casualties.

That was then.

This was now. Now, where he was hugging the ground behind the Jaspa’s own barricades and trying to keep from catching lead.

Bullets whined and cracked off the concrete near him, and he laughed, laughed because he wasn’t dead. Jory couldn’t say the same. Jory was dead next to him, face half gone, and hair matted with gore. And Gillis? Why, Gillis was leaned back against the wall, blood puddled under her. She hadn’t spoken up in a while. So, Bastard laughed because they couldn’t, and somebody ought to have some fun around here.

A line of pain traced itself on his hand, and he jerked it back and laughed harder at the blood. Oh, the bastards couldn’t shoot through the old road barrier he was behind, but the problem was it was tight quarters back here. A corner of an old stone building, with a few empty windows. And while the Jaspa couldn’t shoot worth a damn, they had evidently figured if they sprayed enough bullets into the stone, eventually a ricochet would catch him.

He didn’t think they were wrong. That’s how they’d gotten Jory. And given how Gillis had twitched and jerked a time or two, she’d probably been tagged as well.

But hey, she didn’t mind! And Bastard laughed harder, as he checked his hand, wiggled his fingers, and readied to pop up over the barrier and take a few with him—

A rifle barked.

Bastard paused.

None of the Blackclads on him had rifles. Which meant...

The rifle barked again.

Bastard leaned against the barrier and felt the itchy feeling in him pound, resisted the urge to jump up and kill all of ’em.

Besides, they were already dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

The echoes faded, and Bastard took a breath. Another. It felt like it took forever to breathe, felt like time was stretching. But when the silence fell across the stone shell he was stuck in, he mustered his nerve and shouted, “Chicken shit!” as loud as he could.

Another breath. Two, and blood dripped down his sleeve as he tightened his grip on his gun. Had he guessed wrong? Time to pop up and shoot?

“Frog Waffle!” came a familiar voice back

All the tension ran out of Bastard like the blood had out of Gillis. “Fuckin’ took you long enough!”

“Well shit, sorry,” Tallet called back. “Some of us was busy!”

Bastard laughed. Then he reached over and closed Jory’s remaining eye. Pausing, he reached down and grabbed his pack, rising as he tugged it off the dead man’s corpse. Fucker didn’t want to let go, so he held the body down with his foot and ripped it away, breaking the strap. “We got any left?” he asked, as he rummaged through the goods.

“Some. Most of ’em are runnin’. After we shot the Speakers they didn’t have no stomach for more fight.”

“We shot the speakers?”

“Some of ’em.” Tallet racked his rifle, and crawled up to the edge of the nearest window. He peered out, looking down at the ground three stories below. “There was one guy we was supposed to take alive. Think someone brought him in.”

A scream ripped through the air, distant but loud.

“Yep, they got him,” Tallet nodded. “Poor bastard.”

“Actually, I’m okay.”

“What?”

“What?” Bastard grinned back.

Tallet just looked puzzled.

“Don’t sweat it, hickboy. Tell ya later.” Bastard chuckled again. Then he looked back at the cooling corpses of his squad and didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “The fuck is Yulian thinking? The fuck?”

“He said we needed to speed it up,” Tallet weighed in. “Finish this a few days early.”

“Why?” Bastard barked, as he looked at Jory and Gillis. He hadn’t liked ’em THAT much, but still... “Why?” he asked again, softer. His eyes burned, and he felt tired, and he knew it was the juice leaving him, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, was the thought that decided him, even as Tallet’s lips firmed, and the woodsman looked away. Bastard tried to settle his nerves by rummaging through Jory’s pack. He gladly pocketed the guy’s spare skivvies and socks, but then he hit a picture of a woman, and that just made his eyes burn again.

“Why?” he whispered. “We had this without rushing. We fuckin’ had this.”

No answer. Not that he’d expected one.

Two hours later, in the middle of burning the granaries, one of the runners jogged up to them. “Captain needs you at the eastern lines!” he shouted and kept on running.

Bastard spat out the dried ear of corn he’d been chewing on and looked over to Tallet.

The woodsman shrugged, and handed him a few more ears. “Pack ’em away and let’s go.”

   They found the big armored son-of-a-bitch with six other mercs. Bastard squinted at their faces as they strolled up and was moderately impressed. This was just about everyone left who was worth a damn. Everyone here had some skills beyond shooting shit and talking trash.

“Good,” Yulian said, as he motioned Bastard and Tallet back toward the rear of the group. “Look alive and follow me.”

The door was old, sturdy, and metal. A few lights winked in a square about four feet off the ground. Around it was nothing but overgrown rubble.

“Ain’t many tracks here,” Tallet concluded, rising after a quick examination. “Looks like... yours?”

Yulian’s helmet nodded. “I confirmed it last night. The master of the speakers is down here. And that’s where we have to go to finish the job.”

That caused a buzz, and no small amount of confusion. Bastard glanced around the circle of faces and saw each and every one doing the same thing. What was this? They’d won. The contract was done.

Yulian seemed to read their minds. “The contract was to destroy their means of waging war. We’ve done most of that. But the one who’s actually running the show is hiding in a bunker down there, and I guarantee you he’s got what he needs to get them back and ready to fight again. If we don’t kill him, they’ll rally. And then you won’t get paid.”

One of the older guys, with a salt-and-pepper beard and cracked goggles glared at him. “The hell you didn’t say nothing about this before?” His name was Jax, Bastard recalled. Jax was a veteran merc. Old, but mean.

“I didn’t know about it before,” Yulian said. “Not until they got desperate enough to flash Morse code last night.”

“Not that it helped them,” Cursa said. She was bundled in heavy leathers, and the oversized tech rifle she carried with her strut-reinforced arms could and had punched through all the barricades the Jaspa had thrown in their way. “Whatever that fourth measure was, it didn’t do anything.”

Cursa and Tallet had snuck into the bushes a few times before, and Bastard had given his friend shit over that. Only a little, though. The kid was young, and he’d learn that field fucks could come back to bite you soon enough. Like you didn’t shit your nest, you didn’t stick it in your buddy. All it took was one little bit of jealousy and there’d be a bullet in your back. Or your dick, if she really got pissed.

“It didn’t do anything that we saw,” Yulian replied. “But we can’t be certain. We’ll need to go down there to ensure we’ve finished the job. Which is why you’re here, all of you. The best and bravest I’ve got. The ones smart enough to do the job and come back alive.”

Bastard wasn’t sure why so many of them were shooting him puzzled looks, but he grinned wide at the attention.

“Upon successful completion of this mission,” Yulian continued, “I’ll ensure that each and every one of you receives triple hazard pay. We have enough contractual leeway to do that.”

THAT got people motivated. One of the specialists, a guy called Nitro, all burn scars and bald head, pulled out his backpack. “So, you want that door down?” he asked as he showed off what he called his ‘party favors.’

Nitro laughed as he blew the door in.

He wasn’t laughing after the fourth door, when the false ceiling opened up and about a ton of rusty blades dropped on him.

That killed the mood. And as they hauled his body back and salvaged what they could, Bastard looked around the faces of the seven remaining, and Yulian’s faceless visor.

And just like last time, he caught everyone else looking. Looking and wondering.

Who’d be next?

They took it slower after that, but not slow enough for Dorfman, who found a chamber that suddenly flooded with poison gas. He died coughing out goop that used to be his lungs.

After that, there was a hellishly big argument, and Yulian grudgingly gave everyone a day to get their heads on straight, while he figured out a way ahead.

In the morning, they were five. Cursa had left during the night.

Tallet’s face was sour after they found that out.

“You know anything about this?” Bastard whispered to his buddy as the others muttered and fell into gloomy glares.

Tallet’s reply was a string of curses that impressed the hell out of Bastard. Also, he figured that meant “No.”

It took the better part of another day to work through empty passages, rubble-choked tunnels, and rusty doors. But this time the few traps they hit didn’t take anyone out. Vaanja broke a finger when some rubble shifted unexpectedly, but that probably hadn’t been a trap, just bad luck. Probably.

During break, Bastard found himself resting against the wall with Jax. Jax was mean and surly as usual, so Bastard did most of the talking.

Jax ignored most of it up until the point Bastard started thinking out loud. (Always a mistake.)

“Who the fuck would live down here, anyway? If this is one of those speakers, he’s one dumb asshole,” Bastard spat a loogie up on the wall and followed it down with his flashlight beam.

“It ain’t a speaker. Ain’t nothing human,” Jax said.

“What? Fuck you talkin’ about?”

“Ever hear tell of cores?”

“Like apples?”

“No, dipshit. They’re these oldtech things. Machines that made stuff for people and ran places. Like hospitals, or farms, or factories.”

“What’s a fak-torry?”

“Place where they build shit with machines.”

Bastard looked around at the corroded walls, and the machinery visible through the cracks. He adjusted the lantern. “That what this place is?”

“Naw. This here’s a bunker. Cores build these. Big places full of traps and robots and worse things. Some old, inhuman thing made every bit of it, callin’ it up out of thin air and mud.”

“So... we’re like in its body.”

“In its trousers, more like. Gettin’ the shaft, one corpse at a time.” Jax laughed at his own joke.

He wasn’t laughing a day later, when Bastard helped Tallet haul his corpse up and into the light. For an old guy he had a lot of weight to him.

They sat outside next to the body. And for a change Bastard didn’t even feel like going through his pockets or stealing his pack.

“Camp’s getting restless,” Tallet said, jerking a thumb up at the ridge. “Sittin’ there, getting restless. Nothin’ to do, and they ain’t getting paid until they get back. Days we been working through this maze, and nothing to show for it.”

“Where they gonna go?” Bastard asked.

“Back to the Low Binding. Road’s clear, the Jaspa are scattered. Ain’t nothing but a few days twixt here and there.”

“Is that so?” came Yulian’s voice from behind them, and Bastard jumped in surprise, saw Tallet shoot a quick, guilty glance back at the ridge.

“They’d be snatching defeat from the jaws of victory,” Yulian said, voice even and mild. “Nobody gets paid until I get back. I’m the contract’s chief enforcer, and I decide when it’s done.”

There was silence and the wind blowing between the ruins. Bastard looked to Tallet, looked back to Yulian and nodded. He understood that part pretty well.

“Good. Drag that off to the side with the others and follow me.” Yulian flicked a hand toward Jax, and strode off towards camp.

It took a couple of minutes to get Jax situated and follow in Yulian’s wake. And there, at the edge of the tents, Bastard listened to him address the company and offer triple hazard pay to volunteers to go down in the bunker.

“Told us we were the best,” Tallet observed.

“He’s a fuckin’ liar, and I don’t feel like dying in that hole.” Bastard decided. “So. Road’s clear to Low Binding, you say?”

They left that night, snuck off the picket line and left, and the road was indeed clear.

“Where to now?” Tallet asked, once they were safely back at the Shop and on their second round of dirty beer. “We just lost two weeks of pay.”

“Shit if I know,” Bastard shrugged. “I heard tell there’s work in the south, but the next free town is weeks off. Hard road to travel.”

And then a familiar voice spoke, as a woman slid into the seat across from him.

“We could offer you a job closer to home, if you’re interested,” said Donna.

TWENTY-TWO

“It’s done,” Argus told me, popping into existence.

“I’m not,” I said, watching a white-armored figure through one of a hundred microcams that I’d scattered around the Jaspa bunker. “He’s almost to the drop tunnel.”

“Oooooh! I wanna watch,” Argus decided.

I waved a digital hand at him as I gave him a port into the video feed. “Knock yourself out.”

“Think this’ll get him?”

“Nah,” I replied. It would be nice if it happened, but that wasn’t the objective here, never had been.

The objectives had been to know and slow my enemy, and so far I was making progress with the first goal and doing reasonably well with the other.

Jasper’s core had been named GLEN SEVEN, in a clear break from Juno’s whims that I was more accustomed to. But then, he’d been military, and hierarchies on that scale weren’t allowed to display a sense of humor.

After taking a tally of just how many Jaspa had died in that bunker, I was forced to admit that humor didn’t enter into it much. It had cost them hundreds of lives to snuff the bastard.

Once we found the core chamber, I did my best to reconstruct what had happened. The conclusion I drew was smoke and trauma... particles filling his intakes to addle him and corrupt his processes, then a frantic charge through the final rooms to shoot him while he was stupid.

Which was good in one way; if he’d still been active, I wouldn’t have been able to co-opt the few chunks of good electronics still in his complex.

There was no unifying system; time had done a number on everything. But the simpler electronics and the large mechanical structures still yielded the occasional useful trap, or functional door. From there I’d built onto things... nothing too complex; I didn’t have time for anything fancy.

But that was fine. I’d been gambling when I started this. If Yulian had ignored it, if he’d simply beaten the Jaspa and gone after me next, then this maneuver would have guaranteed my doom.

Yulian hadn’t, though. He had gone for it like a stallion after a mare in heat. And that told me volumes by itself.

And the current book was telling me that the lives of his men meant nothing to him.

Argus and I watched his white-armored form glance upward at the seam that ran across the tunnel, helmet turning as he followed it down the wall. Then at the slight crack along the floor. He’d seen the trap...

...but he waved his scout in forward anyway. The scout crept down the hallway, heading toward the heavy, rusted door at the end.

He never got there.

They thought it was a continuation of the corridor. It wasn’t. That whole end of the corridor was a tube, jutting out into open space between the third and fourth floors. And the lower half was hinged.

As soon as the scout crept out beyond the halfway point, I triggered the simple mechanism that held the stabilizing rods in place under the tube. They fell away...

...and the tube snapped down, swinging on the hinge in the floor, dropping the poor bastard scout sixty feet into a door that opened as soon as he landed on it.

It was another fifty feet to the ground below. And I’d taken half an hour to shape that ground into spikes. I hadn’t put a camera down there, but I was pretty sure I didn’t need to confirm his death.

Yulian simply stood there, looking at the tube as it rocked on its hinges, staring up at the open space revealed, and then down at the rusted, ruined remnants of the floor below. There were roughly two miles of tunnels to navigate on floor four, and I had managed to identify a good route and activate a handful of traps along the way. Throw in a few lights and exposed circuit traceries to keep him from realizing that he was exploring a dead complex, and I figured we had another three days before he got to the central chamber.

Movement behind him, and I turned the camera a fraction to view the group behind him. Almost no one was left from the first group. This new bunch had come down greedy and eager for easy money. Now I was watching the light in their eyes fade, as coin warred with self-preservation.

And Yulian either didn’t see it or took no notice. He waved the group back, and I watched them go, heading toward the fifth of seven passages.

I’d half been hoping they would drop ropes and head down to the fourth floor from the empty spot where the tube had been, but we hadn’t gotten that lucky. Though I didn’t have any more traps down on that spot, the place was structurally unsound and didn’t have a direct route into the core chamber. It would have both eaten up time and given me chances to injure his team.

Still, I wasn’t too upset. We were ahead of the game. And that was time I could now capitalize on, thanks to Argus and his news.

I turned to the little guy. “The hardware is done? We’re ready for the transfer?”

“Oh yeah. I spent three whole minutes checking everything over.”

From a human that would be a disgustingly short amount of time. In this weird digital half-life we inhabited, it was an eternity. We could adjust our perceptions, true, fiddle with how quickly our minds perceived the flow of time. But when we were dealing  with something so crucial, I knew he hadn’t.

“Well done,” I said and flickered my consciousness away from the remote cameras, and over to the servers.

They occupied an entire room of the complex, crammed in there with the HVAC turned up to full blast. We’d run the calculations for how much heat they’d produce once they started copying things over, and I was a little concerned that the thermal imagery would show up on satellite views.

On the upside, Jove already knew about me, so there was no great loss. The closest agent of that great surly digital eye in the sky already knew my rough whereabouts. I was a bit worried about Tyr, but not so much that I would sacrifice my circuits.

“Ready?” Argus poked me.

“Do it.” No hesitation. This would work or it wouldn’t, and either way I had a ton of things on my to-do list.

The lights throughout the complex dimmed, as the mighty engines started to churn, an enormous room full of hardware working to retrieve a portion of a portion of the data hidden inside a beach-ball sized sphere.

We watched it long enough to make sure it was going reasonably well, then I turned my attention to Donna, over in the Low Binding.

This part of the plan had been Deirdre’s suggestion. Juscade had shared the plan with her, over my objections, and once she’d heard that the mercenaries were starting to desert Yulian, she’d poked me and asked to see the footage of Yulian interacting with his mercs.

A half hour later, she’d looked up at my camera and snorted. “This asshole doesn’t know shit about loyalty. They hate his guts. Want to use that?”

We’d sent Donna to Low Binding with one of the concealed tac-rigs, some ingots of steel, and a game plan.

And now I tuned in to see her talking with two familiar faces... Yulian’s best scout, and that insanely good marksman who’d taken down my drone so long ago. I listened in for a moment and verified that they were getting along well enough.

This hadn’t been my idea, but it was twisty enough that it got my approval. We’d offer them ingots of pure metal, room and board, and a chance to skunk the guy who spent their life like poker chips.

And if worse came to worse, I could always spend their lives like poker chips.

I chuckled at the thought. The me who had come to consciousness over a month ago wouldn’t have thought twice about that. But now... now I was a little more conscious of the cost of a life. Just a bit. Having guests and their kids running around the halls of my body gave me something to watch, and it was impossible not to get a little attached. The little dramas, the tiny interactions... it formed bonds.

Cade knew that, the canny old fox. Knew that once I’d tasted it, I’d be tribe. And so, I was, for better or worse.

“Okay,” Argus said, interrupting my reverie. “We’ve got the baseline data shored up. Bypassing the corrupted sectors... what do you want to save? This is your choice. Twenty-two circuits worth of subroutines. What do you want to save?”

I referred to my memory, checked the subroutine list of the status readout from the last time I had saved it.

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 3, Fabrication 2

Medical (1): Cybernetics 1, Pharmaceuticals 1, Recovery 1

Power: Broadcast 2, Efficiency 1, Redundancy

Research (1): Algorithms 1, Analysis 1, Databases 1

Security (2): Defensive 2, Drones 2, Offensive 2

Storage (1): Energy 1, Material 1, Organic 1

If I’d gone for the three-day option, the choice would have been difficult. But as it was, now that I’d bought myself a buffer and gone for the five-day option, it was simple.

“Lose the medical and...” I checked over my known schemas, and the current needs of the facility. “The Material Storage. That one would hurt if I left it open, but I can get it back without too much fuss in our timeframe.”

“Done and done!” Argus chirped, and I headed back to my android shell, and flexed my fingers.

In hours it would be over, and I would have a new set of choices to ponder. And unless something drastically changed, this would be my last real chance to stack the deck for the coming fight.

TWENTY-THREE

The moment of truth came, and I jumped without hesitation.

All went dark. For a second, for an eternity, I could not tell. I was nothing...

...and then I was everything.

I was the turbines churning below, pulling air into the corridors and rooms of my body. I was my lungs, and I took my first breath.

I was the cameras coming online after the switchover, showing me each and every nook and cranny of my body. I was my eyes, and I blinked as I saw clearly.

I was the nanoswarms that roamed my halls, working on projects as needed, carrying material, molecule by molecule, where it needed to be, repairing damage and shoring up my body. I was my blood, and I felt it beat.

I was the beat. I was the heart.

This I knew, for I was more than the sum of all these, lungs eyes and heart. I was the mind.

And for the first time since my first wakening, I was free of corruption. I could think without hiccups or blind spots.

But as I did so, as I stretched and felt each part of me come alive, Argus bopped into my vision. “Wynne. Wynne! Hey! Focus man, focus!”

I weighed my hubris, decided that I was magnanimous enough to refrain from smiting him. “What’s up?” I asked instead.

“Did you still want to stay off the grid?”

I blinked a few times, then remembered what was going on. “Yes! Hell yes.” The last, absolute LAST thing I needed was to attract that meddler who had slain Argus last time. Things had been going so well, I couldn’t afford to risk him.

“All right. All right, I’m fiddling with the ping... there. Your processes for auto-connecting have been killed. But it’s not like last time, not like the emergency severance. If and when you feel safe, you can try to hook back up to the gridnet. I’d recommend a hell of a lot more algorithmic and analysis capability before that happens, though.”

“That’ll be a task for another day.” I waited until the words that made me did their thing, commands and processes echoing throughout my mind, feeling each part of me come to life.

I might not have pleasure centers anymore, but I could still feel satisfaction. And this was right. This was good. For a few seconds I enjoyed it, full seconds with a consciousness that lived between the spaces of time. Not quite eternity, but you could see it from there.

But after a time, my natural drive caught up with me. There were things to do, and I didn’t have the luxury of devoting time to narcissistic reflection.

Not a lot, anyway.

Ah hell, I could multi-task.

“Check status,” I decided. The words appeared, the summary of my existence.

Controller Designation: Wynne

Make/Model: Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L

Resonance Rate: 1/23:32

Bandwidth: 20(0)Feedstock: 200

Open Circuits: 10

Specialized Circuits: 33

Floors: 1

Minions: 8

1 Autonomous Remote Guidance Universal System

3X Aerial Surveillance Drones (Inactive)

6X Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I

Light Construction Drone (Inactive)

Mk I Personal Interaction Drone

Tension Bow Turret Mk. II (Inactive)

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 3, Fabrication 2

Medical (0*): Cybernetics Pharmaceuticals Recovery

Power: Broadcast 2, Efficiency 1, Redundancy

Research (0*): Algorithms 1, Analysis 1, Databases 

Security (2): Defensive 2, Drones 2, Offensive 2

Storage (1): Energy 1, Material 1, Organic 1

Improvements:

Lockdown: Thanks to your modular construction, you can activate a lockdown mode, temporarily and greatly increasing the electronic and physical defense of your systems and facilities, at the cost of shutting down all contact with the outside.

Manhunter: Your security measures and minions are optimized for use against humans.

Maximized Storage Space: Construction automatically finds the best way to maximize storage space, allowing an average of 10% more capacity than otherwise generated.

Modular: All devices and fixtures can be reconfigured on the fly for ease of assembly and repurposing.

*Omnibiologist: Due to your interaction with non-human organisms both benign and hostile, you are specialized in researching aliens, mutants, and artificial life forms.

*Past Medical Knowledge: You have access to databases detailing ancient and pre-fall medical knowledge and treatments that were instrumental in developing modern medicine.

Sturdy Construction: Your construction techniques utilize multiple layers and reinforced structural components. All items and features constructed are moderately tougher.

Schemas

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Basic HVAC Unit

Broadcast Node

Combined Bodycam and Tac Rig

Core Cleansing Catalyst

Drop Ceiling

Feedstock Storage Bin Mk I

Frangible armor Mk I

Humanocentric Translation Program

Light Construction Drone

Lightweight Frangible Stone Reinforcement

Metal Detector Handheld Unit

Moderately Hazardous Pit Trap

Moderately Hazardous Tilting Floor

Moderately Unsafe Spikes

Nanobuilder Swarm (illumination upgrade)

Nanoswarm Containment Sphere

Portable Generator

Reinforced Steel Door

Tension Bow Turret Mk II

WARNING: *Flagged improvements are currently disabled due to missing circuitry. Restore circuitry to enable affected improvements!

That was a fairly big warning, as they went. “Sorry Charlie,” I told myself. “No can do.”

As useful as the medical subroutines were to my long-term growth and my people, the fact was that they wouldn’t do a thing to slow down the power-armored juggernaut poised to roll down my way. I couldn’t afford to restore them. Not now.

But I could and did devote a circuit over to the databases subroutine, and with a feeling of my mind expanding, functionality was restored.

That was the one I could spare.

I had nine more circuits, nine gained from the reboot, the most I’d seen in one place in a long time. And thanks to my newly-upgraded Argus, I knew where to spend them.

With a breath echoed in the stuttering of my body’s HVAC, I spent them, three at a time, into my security subroutines.

Defensive.

Drones.

Offensive.

All to three, which meant...

You have unlocked a Security Improvement!

Three options are available at this juncture:

Bulletproofing: Allows the manufacture of nanotube armor, rendering drones and human-wearable armor highly resistant to tier one firearms.

Combat Protocols: All drones have programming dedicated to ranged and close combat, and decent capability for surviving combat even when unsupervised.

Firearms Authorization: You may now produce, manufacture, and utilize tier one firearms and ammunition.

There was no debate, no deliberation. I knew what I wanted, and I took it.

Firearms Authorization selected! Filing license... ERROR!

OVERRIDE

COMMENT: Juno here. The current authorities and their offices are, ah, closed until further notice. Also, normally you’d have to renew this thing every year, too. So I’ve taken care of that with a  few hacks. Happy hunting!

I stared at the words for a second, then barked laughter. Despite my paranoid nature, I was starting to like this... mother of mine.

I’d have to watch that.

At any rate, I had all the tools I needed to put up a fight. Now I just had to set the stage.

I’d mined out all of what had been the drainage pipe, up to about a kilometer away. It was heading toward the city, so I hesitated to go past that last blockage that I’d come up against. Tyr was a smart cookie, he surely had sensors up against underground incursion.

I’d filled the place with living quarters, storage rooms, a mess hall, a now-defunct sickbay, and a couple of small production plants for keeping my people supplied. There was one entrance over by the midpoint of the living quarters, and another at the end of things, over by the storage rooms. The hall spiraled as it went around, with several doors in between... which had saved me back when the animal folk had found their courage and tried to make an incursion.

It wasn’t a bad setup for a new Core, Argus assured me. But I was up against a super-soldier.

It was time to dig down.

The thought occurred to me that it was best to let my renters know the landlord was up to shenanigans. “Argus?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the weather like?”

“There was some rainfall earlier, but that’s done with. Not too hot out there, about the end of Septemberish.”

I flickered onto every monitor. “This isn’t an emergency. Everything’s fine. But I’m going to be redecorating, so I need everyone to go outside for a bit. I’ll call you back in when everything’s done.”

There was some grumbling, and people took a few minutes to gather things and children and stray relatives, but I did my best to curb my impatience. Working with others meant giving them time to do their thing. A small lesson, but one I’d learned well on my trek north.

Once the last Arcadian was clear, I set my nanoswarms to work.

No workarounds here, no shortcuts. No risking another shutdown, after I’d just been restored.

The thought HAD occurred to me, that this might be a cheap way to garner circuits. Shut down, backup onto server, and restart over and over again. I’d gain ten free circuits every time. But Argus put the kibosh on that idea. It had been tried, and the result was core degradation; irreparable damage.

But that was fine. I’d already found ways to game the system.

Those wouldn’t come in today’s work. Today was about reshaping the current floor into something defensible.

Corridor segments sealed off, filled with fast-hardening concrete. Doors opened between rooms, as new corridor segments connected them. It was a vast mandala, moving and reshaping but remaining roughly the same size. My bandwidth flickered as the broadcast nodes coped with the changes, and I had to idle first one nanoswarm then another, activating them again as things reopened.

Labyrinth was the result; a maze that forced the interlopers to cross through every room before hitting the central elevator shaft down.

And speaking of that...

With a thought, four of my nanoswarms gathered and began digging down.

“Lay on, Macduff,” I said, not knowing who the guy was, but feeling the rightness of the words. “And hopefully it’ll be enough.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“You’re sure of this?” Cade asked me, from the seat of his new palanquin. It was more of a table with some handholds than anything fancy, but it did the job.

“Positive. Before I lost my medical database, I checked on your condition. You’re safe to move. More bedrest won’t help. We need to get you doing motion therapy at this juncture.”

He waved a wrinkled hand and snorted. “Ain’t talking about me. You’re sure you don’t want all of us helpin’ with this sonovabitch?”

“Positive,” I told him, as I surveyed the Arcadians gathered in the mess hall. The old, the infirm, the ones without a very select skillset...

The ones who would only be collateral for what was going to follow.

My words were meant for Cade’s ears, but I saw the others relax as I declared him reasonably fit. There had been some friction when I’d had to turn off the machines in the sickbay, a certain suspicion that I was trying to kill off their Prophet so that Donna would get an early promotion. My concern for him here suggested goodwill and helped ease tensions.

Still, if he died on the journey then Donna would have some fallout to deal with. Assuming she survived this.

She, and the rest of the hunters, were in the second group. They were over in the armory, with the handful of mercs that she had recruited. Five all told, out of the dozen or so that had defected. Half hadn’t been interested, one had never gotten back to the Lower Binding, but the rest were happy to take some of their forfeited contract out of Yulian’s hide.

We had the marksman, a bearded squat man named Bastard, and his buddy Tallet, who was insanely good at woodcraft. Beyond that were a pair of men built like vault doors who called themselves the Rinnel brothers, festooned with blades and truncheons and attitudes, and a single chubby woman who called herself Gliss. She had apparently been partner and wife to the Nitro fellow who I’d killed over in the shell of the Glen Seven core’s bunker.

I thought it best to stay quiet about my involvement there. Nothing to be gained. This crew was here now because their self-preservation instincts outweighed their greed. The second it looked like they were in a tough spot they would probably flee.

The seven scouts, Kagan and Rauph and Marb and Donna included, wouldn’t flee. Not unless it was a total loss, in which case I didn’t mind. I’d even wish them well. They’d proven themselves good people, they deserved what happiness they could reap from this shattered world.

Though I didn’t give them good odds without my backing. With the Jaspa beaten and scattered, they could probably make it through one winter. Beyond that, I doubted it. Too small, too easy prey for the bandits that would result if the Jaspa didn’t regroup.

“Cleanest shells I ever saw,” Bastard said, holding up a newly-pressed bullet. His battered revolver had an easy enough caliber to replicate, as had Tallet and Gliss’s rifles. The Rinnel brothers hadn’t had guns at all, and I was devoting about five feedstock apiece to printing out simple carbines. The scouts already had a couple of that make, with the best and most functional of the Arcadians’ original firearms stash making up the remainder.

“Plenty of more bullets where those came from,” I told them through my android. “To a point.”

“And them ingots?” Tallet asked.

“Given time, sure. It’ll mean wintering with us, but you’ll be earning pay while you are our guests. And eating as well as everyone else here.”

“I dunno about that, y’all are pretty thin,” one of the Rinnel brothers joked. “Besides, Lower Binding’s right over there. Might just wander that way when the job’s done.”

“I’m th-thinking that’s going to dep-p-pend on how Yulian ends up,” Gliss said, sweat glistening on her scarred and barren scalp as she looked from the brother to my proxy face. “If he survives this, then we pr-pr-probab... we don’t want to go back there. Not for a long wh-while.”

Silence as the group digested this.

“I wouldn’t mind if he dies,” Bastard said.

“I’ll be over the moon if that happens, and I’ll throw in a bonus for those who stay the winter,” I told them. “But all we have to do is beat him and I’ll consider that part of the contract complete.”

“Dirtlicker shouldn’t have added on to that contract. Weren’t no call to die in that hole,” the other Rinnel brother snarled.

“No call to die in this one either,” Bastard squinted at me. “I hope you got a plan better’n his.”

“I’ve got a few notions.” I called up a map of the surrounding area. “The last month has taught me the worth of mobile assets...”

I talked tactics with the lot of them while my primary focus redirected one of the nanoswarms to an out-of-the-way spot. I rendered it inactive dust while I fired up a recon drone, then headed west.

“We’re clear,” I told the non-combatants, and kept a careful eye from above as they set out.

I sped to the farmsteads, safe now that the Jaspa were beaten. They had plenty of corners to hide in, with no reason to return to the edge of what they thought were shine-infested woods. I buzzed by, not pausing to say hello, and caught Hiram in the middle of chopping wood. He had some rough frames laid already. I thought it impressive, because I’d only let him in on the plan a day and a half ago. But then, Hiram didn’t waste time. I figured him for one of those men who would work every day until the end of his life and be happy for it. There was something to that view, and I could respect it. Perhaps not share it, not to the degree he had internalized his credo, but it was still inspiring.

The Arcadian non-combatants would shelter here until the fight was over. I’d printed out mismatched rough clothing for them, and a few other useful-but-inconspicuous items.

As far as anyone was concerned, they were Jaspa sivvies who hadn’t got the word they were free yet.

That said, I doubted anyone would be concerned. It was too far out for surviving Jaspa raiders, and the closest settlement was a pile of burnt rubble thanks to my earlier sabotage. They’d have to worry about predators and mutants, but hell, they had numbers and I couldn’t fix the world for them. They’d figure it out.

Even the largest beast was less deadly than their own species, when it came down to it. No, they’d be fine. I’d have the trickier job.

Thinking of that, I shifted down to the small-but-growing second floor of my bunker.

This was where the big traps would go. This was where I’d pull out all of the stops and aim to kill. There were traps up top, true, but they were designed to test, to lure Yulian into expecting patterns from me.

I did have a fondness for patterns. I’d have to watch that.

Fortunately, I had some ideas of how he’d jump to begin with.

A week ago I had wormed my strings into the corpse of Glen Seven’s bunker and made it dance, all in order to make Yulian think he had some easy prey before him. It had worked, and he’d given me ample opportunity to study him, and test his capabilities.

The whole thing had been a mouse maze, and as I finished up strategizing with my merc squad, a notice pinged in my vision. The rat had found his way to the cheese.

I would have taken a breath if I’d had lungs. I settled the lone recon drone onto the roof of the nearest farmstead. Then I paused and checked all the various other irons I had in assorted fires, settling the active ones bit by bit in a matter of seconds.

I bore no love for the next part, not anymore. But it was necessary.

My consciousness shifted, my vision blurred, and time sped up to an almost-human pace as I projected my mind into Glen Seven’s bunker.

More specifically, into his core chamber.

I had found his core here, broken and dark. And with plastic and glass and some cheap special effects I made it a near-replica of my own. Argus had suggested a few cracks and given me specifications for injuries that were crippling but survivable.

The thing was effectively a snow globe with delusions of grandeur, but that was all it needed to be.

I watched the door of the chamber crumble as Yulian entered. Alone, this time. Well behind him were the eyes of his most recent team, gleaming white and wide in the light of their lanterns.

It was almost a tableau. The dusty chamber, the darkness lit only by the light they’d brought and the dim green flickerings across the ’core’ to the east of them. Bones and spent traps littered the floor, and Yulian took his time picking across them, moving with slow but inevitable caution between high steel pillars.

Even that told me volumes. I analyzed him from three angles, feeling a twinge of buyer’s remorse for my choices. Just another point or two in analysis and algorithms could have allowed me to analyze his behavior, work out some specialized anti-Yulian software.

No, that way lay obsolescence. This guy was a challenge, but he would either be a short-term conflict or the end of me. I’d stick to my guns— literally.

“Do you talk?” came his voice, and I weighed the benefits of responding and found them lacking. He might have his own analysis tricks. I would give him nothing, save for a single prize.

“No matter,” he said, drawing near. He twisted a gauntlet as he reached the pedestal, producing a gleaming metal blade, about four inches long and inlaid with circuitry. “Your suffering ends now. You’re going to sleep, and when you awake, you’ll have a whole new purpose...”

And despite myself, I felt the urge to reply. “I think you’re the one that needs a nap. Goodnight, sweet prince. Flights of angels sing you to sleep, and all that jazz.”

His head jerked around, as he tried to find the speaker, tried to figure out the trap.

And that’s when I triggered the TNT.

He was cautious, was Yulian. He had scanned the chamber thoroughly, with eyes and whatever the visor did for him.

He was clever, was Yulian, approaching only when he was sure the path was clear.

But he was human, was Yulian, and he had no ability to see under the pillars that supported the room. Under them, to the hollows I’d dug out, and the TNT sticks I’d ferried over with the drones in the initial cargo. Only four sticks, but I had weakened the pillars near them to the point that it did the trick.

I didn’t expect this to kill him. This was simply the final test.

And damned if he didn’t surprise me.

Going by the patterns he’d made, I expected him to flee back to the doorway or break out whatever device he’d used to tunnel under the earth those last few times.

Instead, he leaped at the orb and tried to jam the blade into its facade. Whisper-thin glass shattered, and the green-coated filaments inside went dark as the gas surrounding them escaped. Harmless gas, just a slight waft of noble stuff to keep things working.

Not so harmless were the tons of stone above, cascading down as the pillars gave. I saw him lift a hand as he used his body to shield the orb...

...and then the feed cut out. I nodded to myself as best I could without a head or neck and switched over to the last recon drone, the only one left in the vicinity. I’d parked it on a roof and covered it over with junk, leaving only the very tip of the camera exposed.

I watched the ground cave in, and ruins tilt and crumble as they came down. A sinkhole grew, as earth settled.

For a minute, I hoped.

Then I remembered why hope was my foe, as the dust cleared and the earth shifted, sparks of green light flared at the surface, then pulled back to reveal a tunnel angling downward.

And again I realized that I had the perfect sentiment for the situation, even if I couldn’t remember their speaker, or the exact words.

“Of course you realize,” I spoke, letting my voice ring out across the ruins loud and clear, “this is war!”

Then I got the hell out of Dodge. I’d need the drone intact to keep an eye on the bastard, and I’d have to keep it far, far back now. Yulian’s instincts were obscenely good on a bad day, and I had a feeling I’d just used a ton of luck just getting to this point.

This had been my last delay, my last chance to stall. It had been fun, but I was pretty sure I was next on his hunting list.

And only one of us would come out of that alive.

TWENTY-FIVE

They were thirty, when they came for me. Thirty greedy men and women, with a pawn of an elder AI at their head. Most of them were veterans of the Jaspa war, with a few desperate or green new recruits from the gutters of the Low Binding.

He hadn’t had much luck attracting either numbers or talent. And the best part was that he’d done that himself.

Bastard and the others who’d made it back to town had spread the word that Yulian was getting people killed over some kind of vendetta or loot grab, with the excuse that it was finishing the contract.

Which to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong. And since he was up finishing the job in the north, he didn’t have a chance to contest the rumors.

The end result, was that he had gotten a bad name among the mercenaries he needed for cannon fodder. These weren’t Jaspa, with their fanatical devotion and disdain for risk. These were the people he could get.

I took notes on that. This was the sort of tactic that appealed to me; I wish I’d thought of it myself.

They were using pack animals for supplies this time, and this told me more. And gave me opportunities I hadn’t had before.

Beyond that, I decided to wait and see. I steered the bird-shaped improved recon drone away, pulling it to the east. After a few hours, I overflew the Farm. The animal folk were out in their fields, managing their own harvest. No signs of mobilization, no core-hunting task forces, no bears with sledgehammers, nothing of the sort.

I weighed the benefits of dropping down to converse and decided against it.

As things stood, they were out of this. That was probably the best I could hope for, unless I could come up with something to offer them. And the only thing that I knew they wanted wasn’t something I could provide right now. Best not to stir the pot. Let sleeping bears lie.

I exercised one of the privileges of my existence and took a good hard look at myself.

Controller Designation: Wynne

Make/Model: Northwest Enginetics Bunker Core Nanohive 4L

Resonance Rate: 1/22:10

Bandwidth: 33(7)Feedstock: 200

Open Circuits: 0

Specialized Circuits: 46

Floors: 1

Minions: 20 (13)

2X Aerial Surveillance Drone

3X Aerial Surveillance Drone (Inactive)

1 Autonomous Remote Guidance Universal System

2X Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I

4X Drone Nanobuilder Swarm I (Inactive)

Light Construction Drone

Mk I Personal Interaction Drone

4X Tier I Shotgun Turret

2X Mobile Security Drone

Processes and Subroutines

Construction (2): Demolition 3, Infrastructure 3, Fabrication 3

Medical (0*): Cybernetics Pharmaceuticals Recovery

Power (1): Broadcast 2, Efficiency 1, Redundancy 1

Research (1): Algorithms 1, Analysis 2, Databases 1

Security (2): Defensive 3, Drones 3, Offensive 3

Storage (1): Energy 1, Material 1, Organic 1

Improvements:

Efficient Transmutation: Your nanoswarms are skilled at converting matter into different materials. Efficiency improves by roughly twenty percent.

Electrogmagnetic Authorization: You are now allowed to utilize active current within traps and manufactured weaponry.

Firearms Authorization: You may now produce, manufacture, and utilize tier one firearms and ammunition.

Lockdown: Thanks to your modular construction, you can activate a lockdown mode, temporarily and greatly increasing the electronic and physical defense of your systems and facilities, at the cost of shutting down all contact with the outside.

Manhunter: Your security measures and minions are optimized for use against humans.

Maximized Storage Space: Construction automatically finds the best way to maximize storage space, allowing an average of 10% more capacity than otherwise generated.

Modular: All devices and fixtures can be reconfigured on the fly for ease of assembly and repurposing.

Omnibiologist: Due to your interaction with non-human organisms both benign and hostile, you are specialized in researching aliens, mutants, and artificial life forms.

*Past Medical Knowledge: You have access to databases detailing ancient and pre-fall medical knowledge and treatments that were instrumental in developing modern medicine.

Sturdy Construction: Your construction techniques utilize multiple layers and reinforced structural components. All items and features constructed are moderately tougher.

Schemas

Aerial Surveillance Drone

Basic HVAC Unit

Breach-loading Carbine

Breach-loading Shotgun

Broadcast Node

Combined Bodycam and Tac Rig

Core Cleansing Catalyst

Drop Ceiling

Dynamic Paint Deployment System

Feedstock Storage Bin Mk I

Frangible armor Mk I

Humanocentric Translation Program

Light Construction Drone

Lightweight Frangible Stone Reinforcement

Metal Detector Handheld Unit

Moderately Hazardous Pit Trap

Moderately Hazardous Tilting Floor

Moderately Unsafe Spikes

Nanobuilder Swarm (illumination upgrade)

Nanoswarm Containment Sphere

Nonlethal Taser Trap

Portable Generator

Reinforced Steel Door

Stunrod defensive truncheon Mk I

Tension Bow Turret Mk II

Tier I Shotgun Turret

WARNING: *Flagged improvements are currently disabled due to missing circuitry. Restore circuitry to enable affected improvements!

I’d had three days and four circuits to work with after my choice to gun up. And as I labored to finish the second floor, I had decided to put three circuits into Fabrication. That had won me the efficient transmutation improvement, which was helping me get around the fact that there just wasn’t much metal in my vicinity. Assembling it on the molecular level took time that I could ill spare, and this helped with that.

It didn’t hurt that the other options were less than spectacular. Without being able to deploy lethal gasses and my tribe currently out of danger, I didn’t need enhanced HVAC capability. And vermin proofing was a laughable waste of an improvement. If it came down to it, I could make robotic mousers.

In the days after boosting construction, I’d allocated a circuit into power redundancy. That had bought me the ability to play with electrical traps, again the best choice of three for the improvement. Only crude ones, as they went, but I figured it would be worth testing just how well Yulian had grounded his armor.

The last two circuits had gone into boosting analysis. I needed to figure out what Yulian would be throwing at me. That done, I set Argus to reviewing the hours of footage we’d gained from his siege on the Jaspa core. I doubted we’d gain much from that, since most of what we had was visual and audio only, but it was worth a shot. And Argus was fussy enough that it was worth my while to keep him busy and out of my hair now and again.

For all that I’d missed him, I did enjoy the privacy of my own mind from time to time.

And as if on cue, he hovered into sight. “They’re on their way?”

“As inevitable as time and tide. And taxes, come to think of it.”

“Less of those nowadays,” Argus observed. “Taxes, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We just saw the fall of a society that was all about serfs, even if they called them sivvies. That was about a ninety or one hundred percent tax rate, when you think about it.”

“Still not technically taxes.”

“Maybe so, but I’d call them an exercise in feudality.”

It took him a second to get the pun, but once he did, I had the pleasure of watching all his eyes roll at once.

I would have smiled if I could... then I remembered my business, and my joy faded.

In a few hours’ time I would be fighting for either my existence or my freedom. I wasn’t exaggerating on that, either. I could only come up with a single reason for that circuit-blade he’d popped out against the false Glen Seven core. He meant to add programming, or overwrite my personality, or some other malicious edit that would turn either me or my hardware to Jove’s side.

These were the stakes, and there was no levity there.

A light rain fell when Yulian finally stood before my outerdoors, with half of his men behind him. I watched him through the cameras of the door, watched from the eyes of the recon drone I’d left active.

“Do you speak?” he asked.

“I’ve been known to bend a few words on occasion,” I drawled.

Muttering from behind him. He lifted a gauntlet, considered. “You’re no match for me. I’m going to hurt you badly, then I’m going to come and find you. If you resist me then, I will not be merciful.”

I told him what he could do with his mercy, anatomically impossible though it might be. He didn’t rise to the bait, and the rain rolled down his visor in the silence.

Then he turned and left, waving his men back.

I watched, confused, as he moved around the perimeter of the ravine and the works I’d done. He knelt several times, putting his hand to the earth, and my newly upgraded senses caught the faintest tap of vibration against my walls.

Sonar, or some variant of it.

He was finding the shape of me.

“Not good,” Argus whispered in my ear.

“This explains a few of his choices back in Glen Seven,” I muttered back. Whispers were pointless in the privacy of my own headspace, but I shoved the notion aside as Yulian walked back to one of his earlier spots, knelt and put both his hands against the ground, and pushed.

I watched green light flare and cursed as the earth melted away before him.

“He’s using the tunnel trick NOW?” Argus shrieked.

Yulian had broken his pattern.

All too clearly I could see what would follow. Half or more of my defenses had just been bypassed, and he’d come in hard and fast. This would be decided in hours, not days.

“Get Donna and her troop on the horn,” I told Argus as I spun up my newly-made security drones and flicked their safeties off. “We’re going to need everything we’ve got, and we’ll need it now.”

TWENTY-SIX

It took a few precious seconds to plot the trajectory of the tunnel.

It took more seconds to figure out which wall Yulian’s tunnel had fetched up against.

It took less than a second to verify that the wall was still standing.

And it took no time at all to realize that Yulian would have brought plenty of measures to get through anything as simple as the concrete wall that blocked his path.

“What the hell?” Argus sputtered.

I ignored him for a second; I threw my mind into overdrive, slowing time around me as I became a being of pure process and thought. Free to exist within the beats of time, I turned my perspective to consider my minion. “He got a jump on us. If he does it again, we’re likely dead,” I said, simply.

“He didn’t use the earth disruptor thingy on the Glen Seven bunker!”

“Of course he didn’t. The wall is unbreached, which means his tunnel nanos probably don’t work on concrete, or maybe it doesn’t pierce core-made construction material, or something like that. And the Glen Seven Bunker was huge. Concrete everywhere. It was easier to find the relevant paths from the inside than it was to try and find enough dirt in a useful spot for a tunnel.”

I didn’t add that Glen Seven might have had some defenses against just such a trick. A simple outer shell of concrete or something resistant to the digging nanos would have stopped this sort of maneuver entirely. I instantly thought of a few cheap and easy ways to block it...

...and put them aside with no small exertion of will. I had to focus. I had more time while I was between the seconds but not an endless amount. Squandering it would mean losing, and losing here wasn’t an option.

On the upside, the tunnel bumped up against a wall in the middle of a deathtrap. The machinery that operated it wasn’t in the walls, either, but the ceiling and floor.

The downside was that there were only about three doors between that deathtrap and the elevator shaft down to the third floor.

I flickered over to Donna’s tac-rig, cursing the seconds lost. Moving away from my strongest processing center meant submitting to cruel time, just for a bit. I caught them mid-stride, saw them running in slow motion, and deemed it good.

Originally, we’d moved them over to find Yulian’s camp, but it wouldn’t matter where he’d set up camp if he won here and now.

Satisfied that the cavalry was on its way, I hopped back to my core.

“Do we trigger lockdown?” Argus asked, as I got my mobile drones in order and started them rolling.

“No,” I decided. “He’ll have things to deal with bulkheads, and it has a chance hindering our mobile assets. I’ll save that option for later.”

Lockdown would be no real help right now.

But I did have another improvement that could be helpful.

“Argus, give me numbers. Based on the Glen Seven delve, how much time will it take him to navigate the jellyfish room and get through the door?”

It took him a full half-a-minute to run the scenario. I spent nine seconds myself, then ran out of patience and returned time to normal for the remaining part.

“Six minutes at the earliest, fifteen minutes at the most. I’m assuming you don’t want it down to the second, here,” Argus told me.

“You’d assume rightly. So... we’ve got modular parts. Let’s see just how modular we can get, here...”

He’d be breaching the jellyfish room in minutes, at the most. The next room on the route to the core was the pit and pendulum room. The nearest room I could cannibalize parts from was the can crusher. That was off the route, back toward the stairs up to the labyrinth, so it was safe to loot—

I paused. I looked between the two doors leading away from the jellyfish room.

After a half a second, Argus nudged me. “Wynne?”

“Argus?” I said, keeping my voice calm. “He’s coming in from the side. How exactly will he know which route takes him to the core?”

“Well, he’ll... obviously he... I mean—” Argus fell silent for a moment. “His sonar might have told him?”

I pulled up the data my sensors had fed me about his sonar waves. “Except they didn’t penetrate. They were low enough to get the outline of our bunker, but the third-floor stairwell is at the center. He won’t know whether east is a better option than west, here.”

“He could split up.”

“If he had more people he might. But that would be a massacre and he knows it.”

“So, we’ve got a fifty percent chance that he’ll pick the wrong way?”

“Hopefully. But I think we can improve those odds.” I cracked open the pit and the pendulum door and sent the construction drone whirring down through the rooms. Then I paused, debated the worth of this gambit, and assigned one of my mobile security drones to follow it.

“What are you doing, Wynne?” Argus said, eyes jerking back and forth as he looked from me to where the construction drone was dismantling the pendulum.

I parked the security drone next to the construction drone. “Gambling.”

No sooner had I said the word when the first explosion rocked my bunker. I snapped the door shut, and surveyed the damage. The wall was cracked but not broken. Sturdy construction had bought me another minute or so.

I snapped the doors shut.

Then I popped the spikes.

The jellyfish room was filled with dangling wires, all painted black in the dim light. All live with a pretty hefty current.

The floor was filled with retractable spikes.

The idea had been to wait until people stunned themselves then spike them through the face. But this trap had been calculated to deal with a group that had suffered attrition, exhaustion, and injury from traps up the route. By itself, it wasn’t much.

Fortunately, it wasn’t by itself.

The wall burst, sending shrapnel and dust rolling into the room. They were through there in a heartbeat, stepping carefully through the spikes, shouting to each other...

...shouting that only grew as one of them brushed a jellyfish wire.

A snap of current and he dropped.

Straight onto the spikes around him.

It didn’t kill him, but he wasn’t shy about screaming his pain to the world.

And while the others paused and slowed, with Yulian barking behind them and trying to urge them on, I seized the moment.

Slamming the door to the pit and pendulum room open, I goosed the security drone forward and opened fire.

It wasn’t large, about the size of a St. Bernard with wheels instead of legs, wheels under an armored skirt. The overall shape was something like a pillbug, with a mount to either side for weaponry.

I’d affixed one of my fabricated shotguns to each mount.

The targeting software was basic; they weren’t precise.

They didn’t need to be.

Twelve gauge shot ricocheted and boomed around the room, without any elegance or art. I tried to keep the spray low to minimize damage to the fragile wires above, but I knew that there’d be collateral.

It worked pretty well, and if I had managed to unlock the technology and exceed the limitations required to craft automatic weaponry, then I probably could have killed everyone in that first wave.

But I hadn’t.

At an even three in all my security subroutines, the best I could do was single shot firearms, that required reloading between each blast. No automatics or even semi-automatics at this tier; the system frowned on that.

I compensated a bit by firing them in alternating shots, but all in all I only managed to account for three before they started returning fire. Still, I held on and winced as the drone took a few shots, its heavy sloped armor cracking and triggering damage reports. I was playing a risky game, here...

Yulian’s head appeared in the breach and the second his visor turned toward the drone, I immediately ceased fire and snapped the door shut.

Only then did I glance back. I saw with satisfaction how the pendulum was in pieces strewn across the room, with the construction drone placidly working away, breaking the bits into useful parts with its welding torch.

Yulian had seen that. That was the point of the exercise.

I watched them pull their dead and wounded off the spikes, ducking low to avoid the wires, watched them flood in, keeping low.

Yulian didn’t care. He stood tall and proud, and the wires didn’t flash blue when they touched his helmet. He had some supertech going on there. Couldn’t say I was surprised.

He glanced from one door to the other, and my voltaic sensors caught a flare of sonar. I watched him mark the cameras in the room.

And then my heart soared as he waved a hand toward the can crusher room and said “That door. Beta maneuver. Go!”

I watched him move around the room, pulling a blade from his gauntlet as he disabled each camera. A few of the overhead wires crackled as he did so, but to no real effect. The armor wasn’t vulnerable to such crude attempts at electrocution.

“You should have taken my offer,” he said to the last camera. I could vaguely make out his face behind the chipped visor; regal and stern, framed by stringy hair, with a gaze that bored laser-like into my glass lens.

“And you should have hired shorter troops,” I replied.

I tripped the mechanism that held the wires up and let them drop into the room to a chorus of screams and snapping sounds of current completing its circuit.

Then the camera went dark, and I started getting damage notifications on the can crusher door.

Argus let out a sigh of relief as I slowed time around us again. “He chose... poorly. That buys us some time.”

“Chose? hell,” I grinned, mouthless. “I forced his hand. Why would I open a door leading closer to the core? Let alone be disabling a trap that would be in his way. There’s no sound tactical reason for it, given the information and perspective he’s currently got.”

And on that thought, I commanded the door to open again, and the security drone to target anyone working on the can crusher room’s door. And this time I didn’t close the door until they’d shot the security drone into bits. Just another desperate defense, a little more authenticity to sell it. And a few more casualties, for that matter. I couldn’t tell how many I’d taken out, but every little bit helped.

Then I started putting the pendulum back in place.

“Why are you bothering with that?” Argus wondered.

“Because he won’t be back to open this door until he figures out the ruse. And I want every trap in between us and him functioning by the time he does.”

“You don’t think this worked? You don’t think he’ll be diverted upstairs?”

I didn’t. Yulian was a smart son-of-a-bitch. At best I’d bought myself an hour.

It wasn’t my best day. All in all, it only gained us twelve minutes.

They got through the can crusher room while avoiding the drop ceilings, and the counterweighted tons of rubble behind them, losing only two to rapidly rising floors that introduced mercenaries to the ceiling with much messiness.

Yulian himself was forced to take point in the hall of knives, and I managed to get a few shotgun blasts on him with the turret before he took it down. But he weathered them without too much trouble, and I could almost see the calculation as he knelt next to the turret, then scanned the room.

I tried to distract them with my last security drone from the doorway, and that accounted for three more casualties before they disabled the thing.

But Yulian’s focus was less on the drone and more on the chamber beyond, and again the sonar rang out as he mapped out what was to come. Shaking his head, he rose. “It’s a ruse. Fall back to the breach!”

I watched through my remaining camera as the three mercs who were hiding behind him shot confused and frightened looks at each other. Then they broke and ran, no discipline to their frantic strides.

Just a little more...

Argument through the door to the pit and the pendulum. A gunshot, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. I smiled, faceless, at the fruition of my work.

Then I checked on Donna and cursed. Still too far out. Still eleven minutes away, give or take.

The door blew open, and the mercenaries charged screaming in. In the space between the seconds, I counted them, took stock. Half were wounded, and there were nine in total.

I pitied them, then, these desperate men and women, these nine sacrifices. I pitied them, for this was exactly the wrong sort of room to try to rush and overwhelm.

The pit rolled open in the center of the room, forcing them to the sides.

And then the pendulum descended from the ceiling, scything like a hanging fan, sweeping the sides of the room.

One quick and clever man didn’t stop running, he made it through to the other door before things got bad. Two more retreated. The rest fell, either dodging the pendulum and unable to outrun the floor or sliced and knocked into the pit as the heavy blade did its thing.

Yulian pushed past the fleeing pair. He drew forth a heavy pistol from a leg compartment, firing twice behind him as he came, not even bothering to look. I saw one of the retreating mercs go down screaming as he hit the spikes but focused on the big man who stood at the entrance to the pit, eyeing the pendulum mere feet in front of his face.

Oh, how I wished I could have extended the blade across that gap.

After a moment, he raised the gun and fired. Once, twice, thrice, and I watched the slide roll back and shells pop out.

Then he ducked, as the pendulum blade, now shot loose from its mooring, gouged the wall above him as it whirled into the pit. The few survivors down there cried as it dropped, and he considered them impassively before moving to the side and walking casually around the edge of the pit.

Two more doors to go.

I hopped into my android and turned its head to look at Deirdre. “Are you sure about this?”

The woman simply pushed her gray hair back behind her head, pulled out a leather cord, and started tying it back.

The next room was a riff on the hall of knives. I didn’t have a name for it yet. Yulian surveyed it for a long moment, before walking straight through. I popped the crossbows hidden in the walls off as he went, but they sleeted off his armor like icicles off a car.

And yet...

And yet he hurried his steps as the first few hit, and I saw a few plates of armor crack.

He was only invulnerable until he wasn’t.

This time he didn’t have a minute to take care of the cameras. He hit the door, pulled a few blocks from his back compartment, and slapped them into place. Then he turned his back, covered his neck, and hit a button on his gauntlet.

It was a pretty impressive explosion. Even with shaped charges, I knew he must have taken some pain from the backblast.

But uncaring of the curses I rained inaudible upon his brow, he stood without showing any pain and turned to look at what lay before him.

An elevator shaft standing open, thirty short feet between him and the last floor, with a clear maintenance ladder heading downward.

I waited, and I watched, and I readied to trigger the last trap...

...but again, I had to curse as his gaze lifted up to the bottom of the elevator car, and his sonar pinged against my sensors.

He saw the trap. And replacing the pistol in its holster, Yulian pulled out something like a speargun and put bolts in the wall just under the elevator car. Now I couldn’t drop it on him, not in time.

I did salvage some part of a silver lining. The sensors in the shaft were of good quality, and my analysis programs gave me the gift of his sonar’s frequency.

“This is bad,” Argus whispered.

“No. It’s showtime,” I told him and set my core chamber’s speakers to play his frequency. Then I jumped into my android.

It took him a minute and another shaped charge to blow through the door at the bottom of the shaft.

And then Yulian moved inside, pistol out and over his elbow, taking in the high-ceilinged vault that was my core chamber.

“Hello asshole,” Deirdre spoke as we stepped into sight.“You up for round two?”

Yulian shot her.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Deirdre and I hadn’t saw eye to eye on most things.

The few moments of conversation I’d had with her earlier in the week had been brusque, to the point, and grating. She was experienced but stuck in her ways, I felt and had a tendency to explain things that I already knew, always giving the impression that she considered me a moron.

But we both agreed on one thing.

No matter how satisfying, it was the height of foolishness to break cover in front of a man who had a gun drawn and was ready to shoot.

Julian fired.

The mirror that we were reflected in splintered into thousands of shards.

I popped up out of cover, drilled him in the chest with my carbine, then dropped flat as bullets whined overhead.

For her part, Deirdre was already moving. She’d brought knives to a gunfight, but I didn’t have time to argue or care. She moved from one spot of cover to the next and eased out just far enough that she was reflected in the third mirror flanking Yulian.

There were seven left, concealed by the poor lighting and the architectural quirks I’d built into the place. It was a winding stair up to the core orb, with archways and doors built into landings. Most of them went nowhere, but a few gave access to the ’backstage’ part of things.

The second mirror popped and dropped, and I jacked out of the android so I could look at the scene from between the seconds.

I studied Yulian, watched him snap the gun up, saw his helmet turn as he moved for his own cover. My bullet had left a scar on his armor, but it was just one more among many and he was still going strong.

And as he moved, I tracked the minor corrections, watched the body language. My analytics couldn’t confirm it, but I was certain he had some method of speeding up his perception, too.

Then my audio sensors registered a pulse, and I watched him flinch.

I’d matched his frequency. He’d just opened himself up and gotten smacked in the brain by a wall of sound.

Instantly he went full defensive, so I popped back into the android body, commanded the convenient waist-high barrier he was hiding behind to retract, then did my best to drill him.

It didn’t work out so well. Even though he hadn’t been expecting the barrier to drop, the man still had boosted reactions. And his return fire nearly took my head off. Damage flashed, and I dropped again, jacked out into my core. Surveying the damage, I saw that it was just a graze, and the damage reports seemed mild enough.

I also saw that Yulian was stuck reloading.

“Now!” I barked.

Deirdre threw her grenade.

Time slowed to a crawl, and I watched it slam into the ground right in front of my power-armored nemesis.

Short-fused, it went off a fraction of a second later. I whistled, mouthless. She’d been cutting it close, there.

If it had been a concussion grenade, perhaps it might have stunned him. Possibly.

If it had been a fragmentation grenade, perhaps it would have injured him. Possibly.

But it was neither. I didn’t have the means of making explosive or concussion grenades, and Hiram’s TNT was a bit too finicky to work out against Yulian. He was just too fast for the delay a standard fuse would have.

What we had, instead of conventional explosives, was paint.

Sticky, tacky paint popped from the grenade and coated Yulian from head to toe. The moment it hit air it started to harden. I cackled with glee, waiting to see if he had any real countermeasures.

And ah my friends and oh my foes, my cackling turned to bellowing laughter as he ripped his helmet off.

“Should have designed that model with windshield wipers, buddy!” I jeered, then it was back to the android. Time to see if I could get a headshot!

Turned out the answer was no.

A moment later, as I lay there with three bullets in my chest, leaking coolant and other fun fluids, I took stock of my motor functions and realized I had perhaps gotten a bit impulsive.

I hopped out to watch Deirdre, just as system notifications informed me that traps were disarming up on the second floor. “The hell?” I snarled.

“Cavalry needs to get through!” Argus yelled back.

And then Deirdre was on Yulian, and I watched her go.

She wasted no time with words. She let her blades do the talking.

I watched Yulian’s head twist as she feinted for his eyes, watched him try to shoot her and get the gun knocked from his gauntlet in a move that must have cost Deirdre a broken finger or two. He took her more seriously then and unleashed a flurry of fast, powerful punches down at her lanky form as she bobbed and weaved.

I studied him between the seconds, this foe of ours. Stringy hair on his head, not much of it, and I could easily see his scalp. Tubes ran from the corner of his mouth down into his armor, tracing his cheek as they went and piercing it in places. Reddened flesh around pale, pale skin, almost albino. Circuitry and studs glittered behind  those ears, and I was willing to bet they would do something bad to him if I could only break them, batter the exposed vulnerability.

But I couldn’t. My only tool, my only hope for the minute was Deirdre, and I knew better than to distract her.

She moved like water flowed, dancing the oldest dance. Not the fun one but the one that celebrated the other end of things. She was everywhere his fists weren’t and nowhere he struck.

As he went, she lashed out with her good hand, stabbing, aiming for the cracks in the armor and trying for his face. For a moment, it looked like she was going to overwhelm him, get through and take an eye, or finish him off with a spike through the skull.

For a moment.

But I saw the second when she started to slow, started to tire. And if I saw it, I knew Yulian did as well.

It was inevitable, now. She couldn’t defeat someone who could see between the seconds. Not like this.

And I found myself not wanting to lose Deirdre here. Not wanting to lose an ally.

For all she was crotchety and old and condescending, she was close enough to my adopted tribe that I knew I’d feel loss if she ended here, like this.

So, I withdrew further, sped myself up until time was only a notion, while I reviewed the collected data on Yulian and thought hard.

What was I missing? What could I use here? What hadn’t I tried, already?

I came up with a plan, found it... acceptable. Worth a shot. I had nothing better, so I let my perceptions snap back into the flow of time and fired up the core chamber’s speakers.

“Deirdre! Echo Tango! Echo Tango!” I had to say it a few more times before it sunk into her mind. Once it did, she ducked and got the hell out of there. Yulian paused for a moment, then went for his pistol.

“Let’s talk, you and I,” I said as he grabbed the gun, turned to find her vanishing through a doorway. He sent lead after her, and I snapped the door shut before it could find her flesh.

He stood there for a minute, eyes flickering within sunken sockets, bloodshot and weary. Looking for the trap, seeking the trick.

And there was one coming, but I’d have to stall him, first. “What exactly do you want of me?” I asked.

“Your obedience,” he said, taking a cautious step towards the stairs up to my dais. “And cooperation destroying your foe.”

“I’ve got a lot of those; you’ll have to be specific.”

“There’s only one that matters right now,” he said, stepping closer. Only fifty feet from the orb of the core. Fifty short feet, up a flight of stairs to where it glowed over the chamber below.

Process of elimination and logic worked their magic. “You’re speaking of Tyr,” I realized. “I’m impressed that he’s got Jove that worried.”

That stopped him in his tracks, and I saw his eyes narrow. Yulian had no poker face. Probably hadn’t needed one up until now, not with that monstrous helmet in the way.

“Jove’s not worried,” Yulian said, slowly. “But Tyr’s forcing the issue. You and everyone else in this area are going to be collateral damage if he doesn’t stop. And he won’t, not unless I stop him.” He took another step closer, then another.

I cut in before he could get too far. “The old tungsten rods from orbit trick, I imagine. How many of those does he have left, I wonder? He rained a lot of fire down, on that day he ended the war.”

Yulian’s steps slowed again.

Inside the ’backstage’ part, Deirdre was slumped against the wall, panting. I checked the hallways above and would have nodded if I’d had a head. Coordination would be key, here.

“When you’re ready to act, here’s where you need to go,” I whispered through the speaker nearest Deirdre, following it up with quick and simple directions.

“He did what he needed to,” Yulian said, simply.

“And the fact he hasn’t used it again speaks volumes. It tells me either he’s low on ammo, or Tyr has defenses or countermeasures in place. You want me to trust you and let you mess with my guts? Then tell me which it is. Offer that up as a show of good faith.”

Yulian’s lips curled into a sneer, and his footfalls echoed as he took the stairs, confident now.

“Three mistakes, machine. First, your logic is wrong. He’s neither low on ammunition, nor does he fear Tyr. I am simply a more elegant solution. My brothers and I will end this world’s suffering and bring order to the anarchy. Secondly, you believe that I want you to trust me. I don’t care about that. I simply need you to supply me with a staging and resupply point in this area. And thirdly...”

The blade snapped out of his gauntlet, circuitry glowing as he took the last few steps at a run. “You’re weak! You wouldn’t be talking if you had any other defenses left!”

He stabbed the blade forward...

...and the glass of the false core shattered, sending winking lights spilling to the ground.

I let my laughter fill the room.

“Is there ever a time that trick won’t work on you?” I wondered aloud.

Yulian cursed, then turned and ran downstairs to where his helmet lay discarded on the ground. I knew his next move, the one I would have taken were I him. He’d wipe off the paint, don it, destroy the speakers I was using to jam his sonar, then find where I’d hidden my core. He wouldn’t have far to look, it sat in the hollow pedestal below the real one.

And if he succeeded, then I’d lose everything. No, I had to pull the trigger and hope for the best.

“NOW!” I yelled.

They spilled out of the door to the elevator shaft.

My cavalry. The handful of mercs and the few Arcadians that I trusted to handle combat of this nature.

Not win it, mind you. But handle it. Possibly do something.

They came in, guns blazing, and I watched them fall as Yulian shot with machine-like precision, helmet in one hand, crouching low.

Gliss fell, her bald head red and her brains on the wall.

The Rinnel brothers charged him, bellowing war cries and brandishing rebar blades, and he took them out at the knees.

Donna fell back with a yell, and I winced as her blood sprayed. Dead? I thought not, but no time to tell.

Tallet put a bullet off his neckguard, rocking him back, and the first return shot missed him. I dared to hope, watching it go in the time between, but Yulian’s second shot drilled Tallet through the heart, and he fell like a stone.

Bastard screamed, voice muted and warbling in the slow time, and charged, pulling his revolver’s trigger again and again—

—And Deirdre scooped my carbine up from my android’s limp fingers, and put a bullet square into Yulian’s back.

Yulian rocked forward, and the shots meant for Bastard perforated the wall...

...and Bastard got lucky.

Yulian’s head snapped back and he fell, boneless.

Bastard put three more shots in him, ricocheting from his armor, nearly taking down Rauph. “Enough!” I barked.

Rauph crouched over Donna, tore his headband off to bind her wound.

Bastard cradled Tallet in his arms. He tried to plug the hole, but the blood poured from him like it was rushing from a broken balloon.

“Enough,” I said softly. “And good work.”

It took some time after that to get things sorted out. One of the other Arcadians, a man named Zin, had caught a round during the fight that I’d missed due to bad camera angles. It was a gut shot and I could do nothing for it, nothing for any of them, with my medical databases offline. But Deirdre sewed both him and Donna up, with a spool of thread from the band of her ludicrous hat. She and the other survivors got them up and out, and moving toward the farms, while I spun up the recon drone to get word that there were casualties incoming.

As for me, I looked at the mess around and in my bunker and sighed.

“That’s a weight off,” Argus said, settling in next to me as I directed the nanoswarms and construction drone to start repairs.

“It is.” I watched Yulian’s corpse. “It strikes me that Tyr’s a smart cookie.”

“I doubt he’s a pastry...”

“Turn of phrase. I’m saying that if I were Tyr, I’d booby trap the armor of one of my fallen minions to explode or do worse if some errant core tried to dissect it for tech or feedstock.”

“Sounds logical. But what if you’re wrong? This could be a pretty useful boost.”

I considered. “We’ll build a storage shed a little ways away, and throw it there until I can talk with Juno, and see what she thinks. Maybe she’ll want it, it’ll make a pretty good token to trade if she does.”

“So... you trust her now?” He was giving me the side-eye. A LOT of side-eye.

“No. But I’ve met her enemy, and I trust him less. It’s not much as relationship foundations go, but it’s a start.”

“We might have to range out pretty far to find a working uplink to contact her. Tyr will have shredded the local ones.”

Without replying, I hopped into the recon drone and lost myself in flight. The forest spread below me, and the sun beat down on my back. A bright and clear day for once, perhaps the last before the cold months started.

“Then we’ll go and find her,” I told Argus, from my distant shell. “We bought ourselves a breather, and I think it’s time to do a little exploring...”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thank you for reading the second volume of the Core Control series! I am grateful for your patronage. If you’ve got a few seconds, please leave a review. Each review helps Wynne prepare for sudden-but-inevitable betrayal!

For news of future releases, and occasional free short fiction, please consider signing up for my mailing list, at the following URL;

http://eepurl.com/bMPrY1

Also, please feel free to check out my website, at the following URL;

https://andrewseiple.wixsite.com/andrewseiple

For more previews and news of more quality gamelit books, check out the gamelit society facebook page at the following URL;

https://www.facebook.com/groups/GameLitSociety/

Or the LitRPG facebook page at the following URL;

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPG.books/

Best wishes,

Andrew Seiple