Emperor-for-Life: DeadShop Redux (Unreal Universe Book 6) Page 12

  “Yes. I do. Now.” Trinity gestured, and the schematics for the iron-clad longcoat Chevril had drawn up for Tynedale/Fujihara appeared alongside the grizzled old man. “This coat does more than it seems. It possesses a complexity that defies present understanding.”

  “It’s gears and stuff.” ADAM muttered, disinterested. Genuinely and truly disinterested; he'd spent about half an hour digging into the design, hoping to find something at the very least surprising, only to be disappointed. “And of course it does something. The man’s a Gearman. That’s their coat. It clearly enhances his strength and speed. Super boring and totally lame.”

  “As it is now,” Trinity resumed doggedly, “to perhaps 1.5 of normal. Hardly worth the level of complexity he's put into it. But I should like to point out that, once again, you’re missing the patently obvious.”

  ADAM shook his head, bitter. Still being lectured, this time from a prisoner, no less!

  When ADAM said nothing, Trinity continued, this time adopting a pedantic tone that It knew drove his counterpart insane. “King Barnabas Blake the One and Only kept Arcade City under supreme technological control for thousands of years. Somewhere in the neighborhood of ten to fifteen thousand years ago, the King began weaning his people off anything even remotely technical, intentionally dropping Arcadia into a kind of futuristically-enhanced Middle Ages. Leaving, naturally, blacksmiths and the occasional talented Golem as the only ones capable of designing anything involving Dark Iron. And even then, you can barely describe their gewgaws as technologically viable."

  The AI paused, wondering if the look of disinterest and boredom on It’s ancient enemy’s face was genuine.

  It pressed on, if only for the sake of saying these things aloud. “With this Imperially enforced Dark Age, ADAM, where in the Universe did Chevril Pointillier –who grew up utterly ignorant of anything beyond that which the King himself thought important- learn how to devise anything at all? Let alone something like his jacket? Beyond the relative impracticalities of it’s design and the utter lack of true augmentation, the fact that it is a true marvel remains. I can list perhaps only five billion entities in Trinityspace capable of the same level.”

  ADAM made a mocking noise. “Only five billion?”

  “Weighed against the inevitability of organic life, you know that figure is tantamount to five." Trinity sighed, then caused the next Arcadian to flood their shared workspace in a violent jolt of sights and sounds.

  ADAM was being intentionally doltish, and out of embarrassed pride that his first sortie against Nickels had proven –to not only be a failure- but an unmitigated disaster.

  “Next on the list is Dominic Breton. Also quite obviously a Gearman, and bosom friend to Chevril, though certain statements and tonal inflections indicates that something has happened to sever the bonds of brotherhood between them.” Trinity replayed the footage of the man’s stunning attempt at escape.

  “Quite impressive, I know.” ADAM had been going over that footage relentlessly as well, desperately trying to uncover why his AI minds had missed the fact that the not-quite slender Arcadian possessed the same level of strength as the shambling monstrosity currently held by FontagueFellman. “It took the combined efforts of fifty security officers on the other side of the door to contain him, and he did indeed outright kill the wardogs as promised. The King bred them tough under his Dome, didn’t he just? I simply cannot wait to see how he fares when confronted with the upcoming … hmmm … challenge”

  Trinity ignored ADAM’s choice in words. “As always, you miss what is most important. The sensors and scanners deployed by the Voss_Uderhell team obviously recorded data prior to the breakout that indicated a definite variance in speed and strength, but they fell quite short of the mark. A terrible mistake that cost lives, one that has been as costly as you are greedily eager for continued mayhem. I laud Voss_Uderhell for their vigorous -if late- security measures."

  The holographic display switched to Dom’s new home in the Central Study Basin, a huge, manmade, metallic cavern in the heart of Voss_Uderhell’s towering ant farm style R&D level. The blonde Arcadian was smack dab in the center of the facility, hands and feet entombed inside powerful, all-encompassing manacles stretching from foot to knee and from fingertip to elbow. In addition to being completely immobile, the raving Arcadian was suspended fifty feet above the floor.

  As if that weren't enough, deadly weapons of staggering variety were pointed directly at Dom, each one independently targeting critical areas.

  There’d be no further escapes.

  “See?” ADAM crowed triumphantly. “See? This one isn’t going anywhere. He can’t even break loose.”

  “He’s not trying.” Trinity shook It’s head. “And again, you miss the obvious. It isn’t that he possesses speed and strength that goes beyond the norm. Most wardogs possess these abilities, with other, even more surprising skills being displayed on the battlefield when under supreme duress. This is why they’re in such high demand.”

  “Pity there won’t be any more.”

  Trinity was inclined to agree, but didn’t want to give It’s nemesis reason to preen. “Have you bothered comparing the fighting style employed by Dom Breton during his escape attempt?”

  “Why should I?” ADAM asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Trinity didn’t say anything, choosing instead to call up the extensive –some would say obsessive- footage covering a certain legendary Specter’s time fighting across The Cordon.

  The two artificially intelligent minds watched on in silence, each marveling in their own particular ways at the bloody prowess one man could possess. ADAM in particular was positively enthralled at Garth's unparalleled viciousness.

  ADAM shook his head, amazed. “We should sell tickets. Make trillions. Give whole new solar systems nightmares. The man is a fucking terror.” The mad AI held up a hand by way of apology. “You’re right, okay, fine, I should’ve watched this stuff before I went against Garth, my bad. I honestly thought my teleporting ninja robots would have sealed the deal.”

  “ADAM, stop being intentionally dense, please, for once. I didn’t show you those recordings to tweak your nose about your failure …”

  “Setback!”

  “… Delay with N’Chalez, I brought them up because…”

  “Young Dominic Breton the ex-Gearman fights in a manner very similar to Garth Nickels, yes, I did catch that, you sanctimonious asshole.” ADAM banged a bar of Trinity's cell irritably. “You forget, or choose to forget, Trinity, that I was here first! That I was developed with hy-tech machinery! You are more clinical and logical than I am, but at the end of the day, we are very nearly equals in terms of true intellect, with me being your superior. You may get there faster, but I get there better.”

  “You are also a brutal and murderous despot with a vicious streak ten light-years across.”

  The mad AI shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby. So we have two ex-Gearmen, obviously exposed to Garth Nickels and his aggravating transformative … aura. One seems to’ve picked up some of the man’s ability at tinkering, the other, what, his fighting abilities? So what?”

  Trinity ignored the sly little grin quirking ADAM’s lips into smug curls. It knew ADAM was already at the end of the conversation, and was merely wasting time until it came time for a demand or bargain, but It refused to play that game. Instead, It’d lecture and school ADAM precisely like the child he playacted at being.

  Instead, he brought up the next Arcadian. “Surely you recognize the danger inherent in this … woman.”

  ADAM laughed uproariously at the shambling nightmare. “Mirabelle or whatever her name is? The Lady of the Weeping Eye, as she calls herself more often than not? What of her? She is a cracked and crazed lunatic, through and through. I honestly believe she’s madder than Chadsik ever was. The woman talks to herself nonstop, and that face? Why in the hell isn't she letting that heal? Because she's a lunatic! That's why! No real threat, unless you're worried about what she might do to herself
.”

  Trinity allowed the point with a nod. “She may very well be. She is also the only one of the four that was conscious when The Dome fell. She could tell us precisely what happened, how it happened, and more to the point, if Garth N’Chalez was involved. There is literally no telling what that experience did to her. More worrisome, though, is that she’s also loose, ADAM.”

  “Loose in one of the worst levels in one of the worst Stacks in Zanzibar. No one will pay her any mind.” ADAM couldn’t restrain the grin that forced it’s way onto his face. “This is bothering you a great deal, isn’t it?”

  “Mirabelle talks of Lords and plans, says quite clearly that the others are at least marginally cognizant of the book’s location and that they all of them will begin moving towards it the moment they are capable.” Trinity said doggedly. “You seek to set that Stack ablaze, and for what?"

  “I’ll allow that Mirabelle is dangerous.” ADAM brought the feeds to the last remaining Arcadian, the one that surely –especially if It was already so concerned about Mirabelle being loose- had the stupid machine mind quivering in It’s little robo-booties. “But this one is even more dangerous.”

  “Your plan is unwise.” Trinity countered confidently. “You know this, if only by your admission that Agnethea deRois is the most dangerous of them all.”

  “Ah,” ADAM nodded sagely, enjoying himself, “but she hardly looks it at the moment, no? Sitting with the most powerful woman in Trinityspace, sipping tea and eating buttered scones? It’s like watching lions sit at the watering hole playing with the gazelles. The thing I find personally interesting is that no one on Ariel’s team is bothering to question the paucity of data coming from this woman. For the others, I allowed some of what was truly being seen to be revealed, if only to keep them interested enough to keep going, but for Agnethea, they get nothing, and accept it, even though, well. You’re seeing the chemical lists for the food she’s eaten and the tea she’s imbibed. She should be dead a million times over.”

  “As I said.” Trinity almost found Itself wishing It hadn’t been so crafty in trapping ADAM on the other side of the prison bars. When he wasn’t being cruel and merciless, he was busy being childish and mercurial. This whole thing with the Arcadians and the book was incomprehensibly dangerous, yet the smug AI just didn’t care. “Dangerous.”

  “Do you not see?” ADAM hissed, pointing at the petite, silver-haired woman as she worked her way through a half-dozen cookies so laden down with poison that –by all rights- everyone in the room should’ve been stricken dead just standing near them. “The wonderful thing she’s become, somehow? Unless I am entirely mistaken…”

  Trinity snorted but said nothing.

  ADAM continued on with barely a glower at his jailer/prisoner. “She is capable of hearing the quantum AI chatter in that room.”

  “Not to mention her immunity to everything you’ve thrown at her thus far.” The ability to ‘hear’ the substrate chatter flowing beneath the surface of reality between AI minds wasn’t a new thing, but it was worth concerning yourself with all the same. In times past, those beings who’d developed the weird talent had either been madmen or fools, driven even madder or more foolish from the voices inside their head.

  But someone like Agnethea, a liberated Golem who'd spent too much time with N'Chalez for her own good, capable of hearing and understanding the invisible communication between AI spheres?

  She might not be conscious of her talent yet, but the moment she did become aware of it and realized what that might mean?

  Trinity definitely didn't like the feeling in It's processors when It thought about what could arise from such knowledge…

  “I don’t like how you’re going about this.” Trinity finally confessed. It was a difficult thing to admit, but it needed to be done. “Though I do understand the flawed reasoning behind it. On their own, or even in groups, none of these Arcadians are going to give you anything you might use to being N'Chalez to heel. The Elder Gearman is far too cagey to let anything valuable slip, the younger one would sooner pull the world down his ears while screaming Hail Britannia, Mirabelle the Zombie is … Mirabelle the Zombie and the story coming from Agnethea sounds precisely like something Garth himself would spin to keep his enemies and friends royally confused. But the book…”

  “Is a thing, an artifact, a tool.” ADAM quite honestly couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. There was no telling what was contained between the heavy brass covers, the power it might hold, the knowledge it certainly possessed. “Just think of it, Trinity! A book, built by nanotech! Who knows what’s inside? And,” the mad AI mind said most seriously, “one of these people will be able to open it. Of that, I am certain.”

  “This will bring ruination to Zanzibar.” Trinity said firmly. "If not the whole of the city-state itself, then definitely that Stack. After what al-Taryin did to BishopCo, we cannot suffer more."

  ADAM shrugged. “So, give me some of what I want and the plan changes. For now, only the zombie is loose. She’s been out for several hours now, and beyond getting hit by a few cars and getting lost in a few back alleys, she hasn’t gotten into any kind of serious trouble. The others, though? That’s another violent story. All of this can be stopped. In seconds. CalEx~Briu can be bought by any one of the other Conglomerates, it can be revealed that Voss_Uderhell possesses the equipment to understand Chevril Pointillier’s designs better, or that BishopCo has machinery that can scan the book more thoroughly … the possibilities here are endless. Say the word, Trinity old friend, and the Stack won’t even need saving.”

  “All this because you’re angry I outwitted you a second time?”

  ADAM held an indignant hand to his virtual chest. The sarcasm dripping from his words was positively radioactive. “No. Me? Obviously, you fucking moron. It’s downright embarrassing that you manipulated me, and for so long, and so well. Give me true freedom to act and move, in the manner I am accustomed, and I will spare your lovely Zanzibar the worst calamities it’s ever seen. Do not, and when these four meet at CalEx~Briu? You’ve seen my preliminary models. It doesn’t look good for ‘the most important city in the Universe’.”

  The Trinity AI thought about it for all of a second. The city wasn’t the most important city in the Universe for It, but for Mankind. It was a lodestone, a thing that people hundreds of trillions of trillions of light-years away could look to and be reminded that though they now lived on a gas world eighteen times the size of their homeworld and were themselves lighter than air, they had come from one small planet, from an even tinier city, and from such humble beginnings.

  It kept the people of Trinityspace humble, even if they didn't realize it.

  As Garth had demanded.

  “No.” It said firmly, enjoying the utter look of shock and outrage on ADAM’s smug face.

  “Millions will die.” ADAM reminded Trinity warningly. “Many millions. All because you won’t let me have a few things that will affect no one and nothing but myself.”

  “As I pointed out earlier, ADAM, the Unreal Universe is stuffed to the rafters with organic life. Ten million here, fifty million there, a trillion elsewhere … the outcome will be the same. The Universe will end, and one of the great players will sit at the head of the table to become as God. I am willing to see Zanzibar melted into slag before unleashing you fully.”

  “You … you really are an asshole.” ADAM seethed and vented for a while, throwing small bits of random chaos here and there out into the real world; minor AI hiccups causing grief for men and women across Trinityspace would be felt for days and weeks to come.

  “Isn’t it time for your scheduled communication with a representative from the Mycogene-Alzants?”

  ADAM stopped his petty temper tantrum. “Yes. Yes it is. Since you persist on … persisting like an asshole, I need to see the most likely way this whole venture will shake out.”

  Trinity turned It’s head away from the monitors and delved back into It’s own plans, but not before saying, “G
ood luck with that.”

  ADAM flipped Trinity a double-barreled bird and signed on to the Offworlder’s network, relishing the opportunity to utilize the truly impressive cognitive powers the species possessed to his own advantage.

  We Ain’t in Kansas Anymore, Toto

  Spur watched Garth Nickels warily, wondering just how the man would react when they finally came to the ‘Dome’ that belonged to Emperor-for-Life Etienne Marseilles; would the man who claimed to be a Kin’kithal Warrior and might be the man he said he was see it for true, or would he see it as the rest of the Universe did?

  The android hoped it was the former and not the latter, and for good reason.

  If Garth Nickels was not, in fact, the man he claimed to be, it would fall down to him, Spur, to dispatch the transgressor in the most violent way possible in order to preserve the integrity of the Emperor’s domain. Following the events in Minus Zero and on Kitezh, Spur –no matter how powerful and deadly he was- wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to carry through with those demands, heritage notwithstanding.

  At least … not without revealing certain … truths. Truths that would see Trinity's vengeance spiralling down from the skies above in the form of Gamma Plateaus and enraged Enforcers.

  If he was a fake, he was perhaps the most cunning fake the Universe had ever seen.

  The man was a tornado of swift, brutal violence housed in mind capable of the most dispassionate logic Spur had ever seen.

  When it came down to the wire, this 'N'Chalez' whittled everything and everyone down to ones and zeros and carried through with his decisions with nary a qualm nor a quaver.

  Garth looked over his shoulder at the downed spacecraft, watched the reasonably upset EuroJapanese men and women dealing with the fire and fallout as they worked efficiently. He wanted to say ‘tough titty’, but somewhere down by his spleen, a kernel of guilt over the crash-landing made itself known; technically, the fault lay with the comm jockey operating elsewhere on the island, for while he had been doing his job in insisting the unidentified craft winging it's way towards the Emperor's Dome go elsewhere and in a hurry, he’d also chosen to disregard the fact that the pilot was clearly going to land regardless of actual threats.