Mieus had had a great idea on how to kill Rune, too. She’d asked the esper what kind of death he’d prefer but the only thing she could eventually get out of him was; “I’d like to die while I’m murdering you, you whore.” That kind of talk made Mieus want to cram her elbow into his face but she refrained, as sweet as that thought seemed to be.
She had been thinking about what that other little palman had tried to do to her in the corridors of Zelan. That ice technique would have frozen her to the bones if she had any, and she could only imagine the kind of agony it could put a simple fleshling through. She wanted to see that kind of agony for herself, and with the guinea pig granted to her by her master there was no better time. Mieus waited for about ten minutes and amused herself by watching and listening to the way Rune gasped and shuddered, coping with his injury. His ripped wrists oozed blood.
“You know, you’re not the first hurt palman I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen plenty more.” Mieus said casually, resting her chin in her hand. She was sitting on Whistler. The little robot made an excellent stool. “There was a village a few years ago. Don’t quite remember its name. Maybe it didn’t even have one. Who knows? One day I got sick of the people living there and just killed them all.”
Rune’s frown deepened and he focussed all of his attention to how the blood lubricated his shackles and allowed his wrists greater movement. Mieus saw his stubbornness and decided to continue. “That was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t as much fun as what I did to that girl with the horns, and her perverted friend.” She smiled a long, catty smile. “They put up quite a fight but in the end they begged for death, just like the others.”
A hiss escaped from Rune’s lips, a quick exhalation that sounded like a warning. He knew that he was going to be tortured, but not in this way. Things like the gunshot wound in his chest were one matter, the knowledge that his friends had… that they were… It was just too cruel. Rune growled through gritted teeth. “Shut up. Just shut the hell up.” He threatened.
Mieus was heaping lies upon somebody else’s lies, but it was as good as truth to the bound esper. She had never actually won against Rika even though she had knocked out Hahn, but she truly believed that
Warren had done the job for her. It never even popped into her mind that her partner might have stretched the truth himself. All that had no relevance. For all intents and purposes it was the truth.
“I can’t tell you how the other two died, but I’m sure you saw the blood on my friend. Soon you will be the only one remaining; the last left alive. You really failed terribly but what did you expect with Master Siren? He is perfect. You should consider yourself lucky that he’s allowing you to live as long as you are.” After Mieus had finished speaking Whistler beeper its own little affirmation. She stood up from the robot’s head and walked over to Rune. “Tell me honey, have you ever been to Dezoris?” She asked.
Her gloved hand wound a fist lightly in the small of his back, gathering up a handful of his white robes. She lifted the wounded esper half an inch off the ground, strands of blue hair loose from his ponytail falling into his face. All he could move were his legs, and a fat lot of good they could do while weak and shaky from his injury. “I was born there,” Rune coughed, “’long time ago. Dezoris is my homeland.”
Looking down on him Mieus smiled kindly, almost as if she cared. In truth, she smiled at Rune like a child who was bored of watching ants walk by and was ready to take out the magnifying glass on a hot sunny day. It had been enough time and they were ready to go. “Well then, what do you say we take you all the way home? I haven’t been off this space station for so long, it’ll be a real treat for the both of us.” She promised.
Did he have a choice? Nope. Mieus hauled him to his feet using only one arm, and with an awesome strength usually hidden by her feminine frame she slung him effortlessly over her shoulder. Rune grunted as his stomach collided with the android girl’s uncovered collarbone. He found himself supremely grateful that his wound wasn’t pressing up against anything painful.
She carried Rune out of the central control area of Zelan and down through the hallways, heading towards the spaceship docks. Her master had said that she could be as creative as she wanted and take as long as she wanted, so surely he wouldn’t mind her borrowing a small spaceship for a few short hours? She knew how to fly a ship, almost any android did, and navigational information on how to get to Dezoris should be stored in the ship’s memory. It would be fine.
Rune felt like a great big tote bag being carried around like this. From his vantage point he could see an image of the hallway passing behind them, bouncing a bit as Mieus carried him, and an excellent view of the girl’s backside, not that he was looking. They passed a locked research room on the way to the docks and the Lutz could have sworn he heard shouting going on upon the other side, but that could have just been his mind playing tricks on him due to the pain.
“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you. I’m pretty strong.” Mieus reassured him brightly to keep Rune at ease, and also to force back the silence that Zelan wished to draw around them, pulling tight like a black-bagged hood. Mieus’ comfort was that her member address list was still full, connected to people she could not see or hear, but still close by.
“You’d have to be to walk around like you do and not have lower back problems.” Rune muttered sourly, slowly getting used to the pain. Pain was like extremely hot water, at first it was scalding and unbearable but if one endured, toughed it out, slowly and gradually the pain would plateau. One could live on that plateau, even if it was barren and bleached by the sun. There was no choice.
Mieus chuckled. “I’ve been told they’re my very best feature!” She exclaimed saucily as they reached their destination. The gates to the docks opened wide for them and Rune became aware of a deepening of volume in the space around them, a hollowness that accompanied people entering a wide, echoing chamber. Solid metal flooring became mere grating. Rune felt the meagre content of his stomach roll over in protest.
The docks, and after that, punishment.
From Rune’s state of mind and the way he was slung over his captor’s shoulder the Lutz couldn’t make out the one thing that would have given him slight, fleeting hope. He couldn’t twist himself the right way to look, even if it was there. Or not there, as was the point.
The largest ship in the hangar was missing. The Landale which had occupied the far dock from the gate was missing, but Mieus did not take any great notice of this because she did not realise the importance. The android girl gazed at the many different shapes in the hangar. They were all so unique, as if they had come from half a dozen locations all over Algo, from different times. Mieus stopped and stared for a few minutes, one finger extended and pointing at the ships as she thought.
In the end the ship that she selected was the Myau Eighteen. She dragged Rune aboard and dumped him across a long couch behind the pilot’s seat, constructing an elaborate series of bindings using the seat belts along the bench. When her hands came close to his face the esper had the ferocious urge to bite her like a rabid dog and not let go, but it would not make a difference anyway. Biting into synthetic flesh and metal skeleton might hurt his teeth and taste foul.
He did it anyway. Mieus flinched and tried to pull her hand away but Rune refused to release her. Her claw gloves mostly protected her from the bite but an incisor bit down deep into her skin, leaving a mark. Rune had such a determined look upon his face as he bit her, trying to shake herself free. Mieus licked her lips slightly and came forward to lean over the magician, kneeing him sharply in a place most personal and private.
Rune had to let go of Mieus’ hand to open his mouth and moan, curling in on himself as much as the binding would allow. Pleased, Mieus raised her hand up and kissed the knuckle where it stung, then moved on to other matters of greater importance.
He’d tasted blood when he had bitten into Mieus’ hand, but it was not her own. Rune hadn’t been able to bite through the skin. He had no way of knowing that he was tasting Hahn’s dried blood, left there when she had beaten the ever loving hell out of him. Rune went still. There was nothing left to do but wait. Wait and watch and listen.
While Mieus busied herself with the ship’s computer and getting it ready to go Rune had time to think very seriously about what to do, and make sure his balls hadn’t been displaced by the girl’s knee. The situation was very basic. This woman was going to take him to Dezoris and execute him. He was wounded and tied up, unable to escape. All his friends were either captured or dead. His eyes watered over how much he ached, not because of that thought. If anybody was going to save him it would have to be himself.
“Okay, I think we’re ready to go. Looks like somebody’s been using this spaceship pretty recently. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” Mieus announced apologetically as she settled down into the pilot’s seat with quite a degree of grace. Rune didn’t answer her right away; he was too busy chewing his lip and thinking.
When he did reply it was in a rough voice cracked with pain. “Fuck you.” He said flatly as the ship’s doors closed and the vehicle rumbled from the warming engines. Their pilot was pressing buttons like a child who had discovered a fascinating new toy.
Her laugh was like tinkling chimes, beautiful but cold. She leaned to the side of the pilot’s chair in order to steal a quick peek at him, trussed up like an animal. “Unfortunately that’s not part of the plan.” Mieus smiled and waved the back of a hand dismissively at him. “You are seriously not my type.”
Rune didn’t say anything as the Myau Eighteen pulled away from the dock and confidently rolled on over to Zelan’s main runway. In the corner of the cockpit, just on the edge of Rune’s vision laid the empty spacesuit he had worn while exploring Azura. Sprawled there it looked like the empty shell casing of a cocoon. Rune's head throbbed as his body tried to get used to the higher oxygen content in the air. He had only just gotten used to the atmosphere on Zelan and the atmosphere on the spaceship was completely self-contained.
His head was killing him, but eventually he’d feel all the better for it. It was like a painful high. The Myau Eighteen blasted away from Zelan and then for the next hour or so Rune lay perfectly silent, perfectly still. He was as good as luggage, or probably could have been asleep, but if Mieus had turned around at any time during the beginning of their flight she would have met Rune’s glare, burning into the back of her chair.
As an esper who focussed on extending the limitations of the mind, Rune prided himself on being able to correctly judge a person only minutes after meeting them. It was how he had allowed himself to become close to Alys, and it was also how he quickly realised the hero Chaz Ashley was going to be long before he became it. It was easy for an esper to judge the shape of a person’s soul. All people, all races, and even some people like Wren and Demi… and Siren. He never would have known Siren was sleeping in that cryogenic chamber if he didn’t have something of a soul. Crazy and unnerving to admit, but true.
Mieus wasn’t like that. As Siren could become invisible to people’s outward senses, Mieus was completely invisible to Rune’s inner eye. If Rune could simultaneously close his eyes and block out his ears the girl would just vanish from his existential world. No strong, good spirit like Chaz and his friends. No cold, cruel spirit like Siren now so far away. Not even the flat, utterly neutral plane which coloured Wren’s slight of spirit. Nothing.
Suddenly Rune understood.
He shifted a bit to try and find himself a more comfortable position. It was difficult with such a restricted range of movement. He smiled as a taut muscle in his back finally got the relief that it cried out for. “Hey baby,” Rune spoke up, breaking the hour long silence in the cockpit, “I just realised what your problem is, why you have to let everybody know just how much of a bitch you are.”
Mieus didn’t turn around. She was too busy manually updating their navigational route. Rune could see brief flashes of the girl’s fire-red hair behind the chair as she leant over to adjust the controls. Her voice was conversational. “So what’s that, sweetie? Why don’t you tell me?” She asked.
He had to think for a second before he could continue. Rune considered the consequences of what speaking his mind would be. Mieus had his life in her hands and if he pissed her off she could just end it for him, then and there. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be painless, either. However, in a matter of hours or the time it took to get to Dezoris he would be dead anyway. What did he have to lose? The chance to be saved, perhaps, but that chance was slim to none as it was.
In the end Rune was Rune. He spoke his mind, smiling wickedly as he did so. He wanted a confrontation. Best to leave the world with his middle finger firmly in the air. “I think you’re like a creative parrot, something that basically recreates past experiences into a workable persona. I don’t know what’s happened to you in your pathetic little life to make you who you are, but you’re nothing like Wren and you’re nothing like Demi. You’re just a reactive learning program in a pretty shell, nothing more.”
He waited for a response. Mieus replied after some moments of thought, or processing. Outwardly she still sounded casual, but Rune could detect a bare hint of strain. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Rune simplified, “that you don’t have a soul.”
Mieus clicked on the autopilot and immediately rose, turning around sharply. There was fury in her eyes, in the intensity of her posture. Rune did not recoil away from her; he merely lay there looking up at the android smugly. What he had said was more or less what her grandfather used to say. She supposed it made sense, what with them both being part of the same layan faction. “Did you and he talk about me while I was sleeping?” She accused quietly, restraining herself.
Rune didn’t know who ‘he’ was but he could tell that he had his foot into the doorway of Mieus’ phoney mind. “You’re an incomplete android, whether by somebody making a mistake when they built you or they just didn’t do it properly. You haven’t got a soul. You’re not sentient. You’re not alive.” The magician sighed and rolled his eyes. “To think that I’m going to be killed by some pointless thing. I guess you won the irony battle, baby.”
“And how can you be sure of that?” Mieus snapped, raising a fist. He had made her angry now, which proved that this was working. Rune wasn’t sure where he was going with this; all he knew was that he wanted to hurt Mieus as much as he could. Wounded and with his hands tied this was the best he could do. The girl laughed. “You can’t prove it. You can say whatever you like but you can’t back it up with evidence. You can’t show me my lack of a soul. Grandfather couldn’t either; you just want me to believe what you do on faith alone.”
“If you believe on faith alone that you don’t have a soul, then you have a soul capable of experiencing faith. What you have is the reverse; an infinite loop echoing down upon itself into the darkness. Maybe your soul’s down there, but I don’t give a fuck. All I’m saying is that I don’t have to prove it because I know you already know. You know.”
The corner of Mieus’ mouth quirked up a bit in amusement. “Ah, but soon we’ll be on Dezoris and I can kill you. When you’re dead you will disappear and I’ll still be here. I’ll still be alive. I think that proves my existence rather well, don’t you think?”
For a simple learning program with breasts Mieus was a better debater than Rune would have given her credit for. However, Rune was the Lutz. His predecessors had eaten simple conundrums like this for breakfast. “That’s all well and good but who the hell are you planning to prove it to? Yourself? Any computer can tell itself that it’s alive over and over again but that doesn’t make it true.”
Mieus was gobsmacked. Her arms were trembling. Were she a palman teenager she could have stormed off and ran all the way up to her room, slamming the door behind her. Demi would have told Rune that in the past she’d done it anyway. Actually… she looked like she was about to burst into angry tears. “I think,” she said slowly, walking up to where Rune lay, “… that you need to shut your filthy layan mouth now.”
She pulled Rune’s black gloves from his hands, balled them up together, and then roughly crammed them in his mouth. They tasted like sour sweat and smoke. Rune took the small assault like a peaceful mystic. It didn’t matter to him; he had gotten what he wanted.
Siren had told Mieus to teach Rune some humility, but nobody could do that save for the Great Light itself. Rune had a way of radiating arrogance even while wounded, tied up, and with a pair of gloves stuffed in his mouth. Mieus frowned. “We’ll be on Dezoris soon. Keep your trap shut until then.”
Rune obeyed with a smile.
†††
Warren took Wren to Motavia for one excuse, one reason. After a thousand years he was lonely and wanted to catch a glimpse of home again.
Technically
Palma was his home and not Motavia, but because
Palma was merely an asteroid belt and he had spent slightly more time in Kueri than in
Albion it did not matter to him very much. After Wren had been stripped of his spare parts
Warren led him through the very same path Mieus had carried Rune some time earlier, all the way to the spaceship docks. He was still carrying Chaz’s sword with him but it held no real function anyway; Wren would have continued to be led quietly whether his captor was armed or not.
Together they walked to the docks and picked out a spaceship that hitherto had not been used for many years, one that Warren initially chose because it appeared incredibly simple to fly. He’d never flown a spaceship before, so the knowledge inside his databanks was entirely theory-based. It was smallish and friendly-looking; when they got a bit closer
Warren could see the name ‘Rappy Mk III’ emblazoned on the hull. He wasn’t picky. If it could fly that was good enough for him.
He guided Wren inside and took him to the cockpit, pushing him down into the co-pilot’s chair. To prevent him from reaching the controls
Warren took out a second pair of shackles and attached one cuff to the chain between Wren’s wrists, then bolted the other cuff to the support beneath the chair’s armrest. Like this Wren could not lift his wrists any further than three inches from the chair. The only way to get around that was to rip the chair out of the floor or destroy the shackles themselves.
Warren sat down in the pilot’s chair beside Wren. It was a good idea that he and Mieus had raided the security storage room before rushing to the aid of their master. It had been Mieus’ idea, but they would not have been able to restrain the layans without them. The android looked over the unfamiliar controls like a person about to put together a pile of jumbled jigsaw pieces. With that same wary enthusiasm
Warren got to work.
Wren could have helped him, or said anything in order to help him but he didn’t. He didn’t say a word. He was just luggage to be dumped upon Motavia when the correct time came. Besides,
Warren may be a little oblivious when compared to regular wren-types but he always got there in the end. This expectation was eventually proven when the Rappy Mk III disengaged from its dock and made the slow trundle to Zelan’s main runway.
Warren may be clueless most of the time, but he was a very fast learner nonetheless.
Blankness was Wren’s usual facial expression. Everybody around him was more than used to that by now. However, since he’d been captured Wren’s helplessness had led him all the way towards blankness and indifference and beyond it, to some small, lonely place where there was only room for one. Before when addressed or whenever his name was spoken aloud you could be sure that Wren would turn that blankness and look directly at the speaker; now that prospect didn’t seem so likely anymore.
His eyes were almost glazed; looking at nothing. It was like he had become a stringless puppet. After the ship blasted off into open space Warren kept checking back on his old friend for only a second or two, just to see if he had moved or his posture had shifted somewhat. It made the trip feel very uncomfortable, especially to the android who was supposed to be in charge of things and hated not being able to fix everything.
Stars filled the windscreen of the spaceship and Zelan was just a shrinking blob behind them. The only sound was the hum of the machines at work. This was the very last chance they would have to talk before the execution on Motavia.
Warren felt… he wasn’t sure, responsible for Wren feeling so defeated. He had never wanted to hurt his friend, even now, he was… it was just in the cards. He couldn’t let him go like Chaz and Rika, either.
“Hey… cheer up, okay?”
Warren said, momentarily looking away from the flight path to regard his captive with a hopeful smile. He clapped a hand on Wren’s shoulder plate. “I’m sorry about blowing up at you earlier on Zelan. I was just upset over losing my life. If you want to talk about anything that’s bothering you I’m completely free until we reach Motavia. I’ll listen. I don’t mind.”
Okay, so maybe that sounded like the most absurd thing ever considering the circumstances. Neither of them had ever heard of a sympathetic captor and executioner before. It was as if Wren hadn’t heard him anyway, or he was the master of ignoring people. Wren was not capable of feeling anything and that was his entire problem right there; the one thing that had shielded him from madness in the past was driving him there right now, with a powerful hand.
His friends were dead and Demi had been captured. Siren had taken his place. All his parts were removed, rendering him useless. He was to be killed by his oldest ex-friend long thought dead. His mind wasn’t sure how to take in all that information without the aid of emotion. He knew that he needed to feel something but he couldn’t; he really couldn’t. It was distressing. It was so distressing that all he could do was withdraw from the world to protect himself from harm. That was the only logical solution.
Surprisingly enough,
Warren had seen struggles like this a very long time ago during the war, in androids that had rapidly gone mad. It was uncommon because androids that had willingly given up their emotions were rare, but it gave
Warren cause to worry. If Wren wouldn’t speak then he would just have to do it for him. “I bet you miss your emotions right now. I would. Everybody needs to have the chance to grieve. You’ve lost a lot, it’s too bad you don’t have the time to recreate your emotion data.”
No response. Wren stared at his hands.
“When somebody like us deletes their emotion data it’s nearly impossible to recreate it again without a fresh dubbing or a donor. Fully functional emotion data and emotional stimulus are like two halves of a zipper coming together, creating believable reactive behaviour. What you have done to yourself is that you’ve smoothed one side of the zipper to a perfect flatness that cannot combine with encountered stimulus. The commands telling you to be sad or angry are there; you just can’t process it properly.”
“…”
“And it’s been a thousand years since we were created. Our donor is long dead by now. Frankly I feel sorry for you. All simulated chemicals in the android brain are merely numerical data designed to react in the same way. Palmans secrete things called neurotransmitters that are just ones and zeroes to us. One of the more notable neurotransmitters is called endorphin. They bond with selective receptors in the brain and spinal column, the same kind of receptors that combine with morphine, methadone and high concentrations of ‘mate serum. It’s the basic building block that creates ‘happy’.”
He may as well have been talking to himself for all the reaction he was getting out of his friend. Still, it was better than the awkward silence and
Warren had a feeling Wren was listening to him. He just had to have faith that it was making a difference.
“The patterns that dart across our positronic brains, all our thought, can be reduced to a simple multitude of calculated numbers. Its correlation equations are entered into a flat matrix. Parameters that recreate the polypeptide endorphin are inserted into our brains; this is the most basic form of a simulated adrenergic system, stuff like disinhibition of the dopamine pathways; dopamine, a catecholamine hormone, being a precursor to adrenaline and nonadrenaline…”
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Wren turned his head to look at his friend ramble.
Warren probably wasn’t aware that he was doing it, but give the major a topic that could connect to his branch of interests and he could talk all night long. The android had one hand on the steering wheel, the other folded behind his head as he leaned against the back of the chair. Chaz’s sword was stashed somewhere beneath the control panel.
It was possible for Wren to rip the arm off his chair and free his bound hands, then he could have dove to the side and throttled
Warren into deactivation with the chain between his wrists. There didn’t seem much point, he supposed. Anyway, it would take up too much energy and the lethargy that had come down over his mind was a part of his unexpressed grief. He half-listened, instead.
“… along with these specialised hormone parameters we have thirty different kinds of endocrine model sensors. These self-preservation functions also make pretty good parameters. They’re all installed in our cores and working perfectly well, but the software is incomplete. It gives us an artificial template for emotions and the ability to bear emotions, but designing feeling; a soul is impossible. Science can’t make affect, but a donor can. Technology will never in a million years be able to recreate the mystery that occurs in a natural palman mind, hence the need for donors to provide us with affect, affection; to be affected by the world around us.”
Was he trying to rub it in or something? In the few moments before
Warren could start blabbing again Wren said in an extremely quiet voice; “… you could talk underwater, major…”
Startled, the major lost his train of thought and hesitated. “Ah, thank goodness you can still hear me.” He said. Funny that he should mention underwater, what with the plan he already had in mind. It was as if he already knew, but that was impossible.
Warren thought for a moment then added; “I wish I could help you. It’s not fair that you don’t get to grieve.”
I could tell him,
Warren thought, that none of his friends are dead; that I let them escape. I should tell him. But…even if I don’t wish for him to suffer that is what my master Siren desires. Besides, the deaths of his friends are only a part of his grievances. I know Forren well. He is thinking of his replacement; his friends are only an afterthought. He is thinking of his loss of power, of control. It’s all selfishness…
For five minutes nobody said a word, but it was obvious that both wren-types were deep in their own thoughts. Perhaps Wren really was beginning to regret deleting his emotions all those years ago. He might not have gone mad with loneliness, no, maybe not with Demi around. That was thirty percent of the reason why he had created her in the first place, other than to replace Nurvus’ destroyed AI. Her affect had grown rapidly since her dubbing and she had been such a wonderful little girl. Just about every aspect of her personality were traits that he was unable to display.
It was hard to believe that her donor was such a different, yet frighteningly similar person. And the other donor? Well, Wren wasn’t going to live for much longer. She wouldn’t have to know about what he had sacrificed to make her smile. “What will happen to my servant?” He asked the other android, needing to know.
Warren wasn’t sure himself, but he could make a pretty good educated guess. He was beginning to get a proper idea of the shape of Siren’s mind. It was so strong, that was all he could be sure of, but he knew that Siren was capable of great kindness along with great cruelty. If you did as you were told, if you followed Siren’s way then everything would be fine. “That depends. He might have already killed her, or is planning to kill her. He might convince her to join our side. I don’t know.” He minimised the navigation window and glanced at his friend. “I heard her screaming ‘father’ at you as we left. Are you really…?”
“That is a matter of opinion.” Wren said quietly. “I prefer she call me master. It took five years to weed out that undesirable trait, and she reverted momentarily.”
“Ah…”
Warren said slowly, not really knowing how else to respond. So much had happened in the past thousand years, and killing Wren would close off a huge chunk of it forever. So many questions to be left unsaid. “Forren?”
“Yes?” Wren asked dully.
“I don’t want things to end this way.” The golden android blurted out, like an afterthought he wouldn’t dare say if he dwelled on it for too long. He shook his head. “Not like this. I don’t want you to die without getting some kind of forgiveness from you. I know you hate me because I betrayed the world, but don’t you want to put all this bitterness behind us? If you can forgive me for joining the rebels and betraying the government then I think I can forgive you for killing me and leaving me to suffer for a thousand years.”
“You wish to wipe the slate clean?” Wren questioned in monotone. Had he any emotion there would have been sarcasm in his voice.
“Yeah, I do. It just seems so pointless to nurse a grudge from such a long time ago.”
Warren admitted, sighing. “Please forgive me for being a traitor. I was only doing what I thought was right.”
A bit of life came back into Wren’s body and he finally started to focus properly on the conversation. He frowned, regarding
Warren with distaste. “I cannot do that.” He said.
“What? Why?” The other android seemed surprised.
“When I was young I swore to myself that I would never forgive you for the disservice that you rendered to Motavia. I do not see any reason to retract that pledge now. I do not seek forgiveness simply because I am going to die. I don’t need your forgiveness. Keep it to yourself.” Wren remarked icily, maintaining perfect eye contact with the other android while he dashed
Warren’s meagre hopes. It would have felt really good in a cruel sort of way, under other circumstances.
Warren’s face fell. “Please? This is really important to me.”
“I honestly do not care.”
“I used to be your commander. You used to salute me and call me ‘sir’!”
“And I was yours. You did likewise.” Wren retaliated simply.
The major turned back to the business of flying the ship, defeated. “Touché.” He admitted sadly, like a kicked puppy. It was probably too much to hope for, getting through to a person who had been as solid as a rock for his entire life and as stubborn as a mule back when there had been a war to be fought. “Listen… I guess it can’t be changed. I don’t mind it, but I forgive you anyway. For everything. You were angry. I understand.”
Another long silence, then; “… How long until landfall?”
“There will be no landfall, but we will reach Motavia in two to three hours. You can deactivate yourself if you want, Forren. I’ll wake you up again once we get there.” He kindly offered.
There certainly seemed like nothing else to do while he was chained to this co-pilot’s chair. After all that had happened it was distressing to dwell on the past and rather pointless to think on the future, as short as it was going to be. Wren didn’t want to look at
Warren or talk to him if he could help it, so he took the easy route instead. He shut himself down into standby mode and his consciousness went to sleep, allowing the minutes to tick by like lightning. It looked as if he were authentically asleep.
“You really are an idiot.”
Warren said with a contemplative smile, like a parent whose child had fallen asleep in the back of the vehicle. “’Wish I could just kill you while you’ve shut down. ‘Wish I didn’t care about you so much…”
Over the course of three hours the Rappy Mk III sailed across space and into the oxygenated atmosphere of Motavia, descending smoothly like a well-made kite upon a dying breeze. The last time the ship’s pilot had seen the curvature of the farming planet it had been flavoured with rich swirls of emerald green. There were still patches of green on the planet but they were miniscule in comparison; small blotches of mould upon the browns and oranges, blues and whites. Motavia had totally dried up. Impossible…
He knew Motavia had once been a desert planet but he had never seen it this way before with his own eyes. All that hard work lost. Could there possibly be people upon the surface? This was what happens when you give layans the reins of control. This was all the layans’ fault.
He stopped himself. That thought had been… well, it was his of course but it had come out of nowhere, as if the thought had been implanted into his head. It momentarily baffled him but he pushed it away in lieu of more important matters. Even though Motavia was a dried-up husk of its former self it was still astoundingly beautiful from way up there in space.
Warren guided the Rappy to a huge patch of deep blue ocean at the very edge of the world. At least there was still water; that was a plus.
Stabilizing thrusters fired as the Rappy’s speed rapidly decreased, coming to a hovering standstill five hundred metres from the surface of the waves. Spray splashed up and turned to white foam as the superheated air spiralled down into it.
Warren locked the autopilot into place, rose, and opened the emergency exit on the side of the cockpit and for a moment or two stood there in silence as he experienced the crisp sea air. It reminded him of the view from Kueri. Below them and in the distance he could hear gulls crying and screaming in the air.
There was a fierce wind blowing right now.
Warren took out the key for the secondary pair of cuffs and walked over to his captive, freeing Wren from his attachment to the chair. Finally,
Warren gently shook Wren until the larger android reactivated and glanced up at him. “Good morning,”
Warren smiled, “it is nine forty five, Motavia Standard Time. Get up now, it’s time.”
“What is the manner of this execution?” Wren asked, rising from the seat after realising he was no longer trapped there.
Warren absentmindedly helped him up, knowing how hard it was with bound hands.
“Come over here, I’ll show you.” Came the mysterious reply, and he gently led Wren over to the emergency exit. Together they looked out over the vast expanse of blue. The view muted Wren, for he could put two and two together quite easily. It wasn’t necessarily a neat and airtight way of killing somebody, but as an android it was sure to be effective. The ocean, water, a sheer drop; death.
“I’m going to push you into the water, Forren. If the shock doesn’t kill you the water seeping into your circuitry will. If you wind up more waterproof than I expected then the ocean pressure will crush you into scrap metal. Be thankful that you don’t have to breathe. You won’t drown, not in any literal sense.” He grabbed Wren by the shoulder and pushed him forward, not enough to shove him off the ship but to force him to look down. The major smiled. “I’m no robotics technician, but I think that maybe even smacking into the water itself at the right angle might be enough to kill you.” He lowered his tone until it was almost a whisper. “I hope you can swim…”
Because Wren did not have his emotions he was not afraid. Still, he did not like the look of the waves one bit.
Warren pulled him back into safety and spun him around carefully, so they were face to face again. “You are wrong, major. About Siren. About everything. You are merely recreating the same mistakes all over again.”
“Well, it’s better than being dead.”
Warren commented offhandedly as he procured the key for the final set of handcuffs. He began to unlock the shackles; much to Wren’s surprise. “I’m going to give you a chance to swim. If you think you can manage that land is bound to be around here somewhere. Just don’t be too hopeful.”
“You do not think I will attack you the very moment my hands are free?”
“You might find this hard to believe, but I still trust you.”
The very moment the shackles came off
Warren shoved him back to the exit, half spinning him around, but Wren had plans of his own and used the back of his free arm to throw
Warren off him, hearing a metallic thump as the smaller android backed against the pilot’s seat. He was an idiot to trust him. What kind of person wouldn’t fight back when their very life was on the line?
The rebellion didn’t last for long. As soon as Wren advanced on his enemy and Warren recovered from the attack something hard and incredibly fast smashed into the side of Wren’s jaw, nearly fracturing it if it had not been reinforced with metal. The momentum caused Wren to stagger backwards, grasping at his mouth, in the direction of the exit and the sea. Gusts of wind whipped his hair about wildly and
Warren moved to catch up with him, dropping Chaz’s sword onto the ground. It had a steady, heavy butt and grip; not just a pretty blade.
The edge of Wren’s boot went too far and caught nothing but air. He stumbled and would have fallen off the ship due to his own actions if he hadn’t shot his arms out and grabbed onto the edges of the exit for dear life. Immediately he was in a very delicate situation, augmented when
Warren crept over to the edge to look down at him. It seemed like he was unsure or even frightened, but at the same time the warren-type appeared to be calm, somehow at peace. “I thought you said you trusted me!” Wren cried, having to shout over the wind and the rumbling engines.
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get the better of me!”
Warren shouted back, reaching to one of Wren’s hands in order to pull him back into the safety of the ship. His hand enclosed over Wren’s wrists but then he paused, stopping himself. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t what Master Siren wanted.
Warren seemed to consider his options, and then he let his grip on Wren go.
Wren had expected as much. This was it. This was the end. “If you have the chance, please save Demi.” He implored.
His words were lost in the wind and the engines.
Warren came forward and planted a boot firmly on Wren’s ruined chest plate. The other android didn’t protest. It was like looking at himself a thousand years in the past, minutes before the execution. This must be how it felt to be the one with the choice; the decision. It felt scary, yet good. He could get drunk on this feeling, he thought.
“This will make us even.”
Warren declared, for a moment as convinced of himself as Siren was.
He kicked with all the force he could muster. Wren could not maintain the meagre grip he held. He fell.
On his back he was airborne. The wind made ribbony whistling noises as it passed by him and the spaceship dropped away, but losing sight of that was the least of his worries. Five hundred meters did not give him a lot of time to think of… to think of…
Wren nearly locked down into emergency hibernation when he hit the water. The shock was so great that it was like slamming into a concrete floor. Then, after that the world just closed all around him and grew heavy, deep, silent and cold. The water rushed in from every direction and pulled him under, dragging him to the sea floor. Wren did not resurface; he was far too heavy for that. He sunk like a stone.
There was a time, between disappearing beneath the waves and the dark nothingness afterwards, where Wren was briefly conscious of his surroundings. It was strange down there, underwater, similar to deep space. Wren was utterly weightless and it was a supreme effort to move his limbs, but above him the reflection of the sun forged a bright, beautiful corona of rippling light. He stared at it dumbly as that also shrunk from view, bubbles of air leaking from the corner of his partially open mouth.
He noted the silence. The only sound in the depths was the burbling of water, and that was almost relaxing to him. It was peaceful and cool and oooh… he could not fight the unconsciousness any longer. Slowly he closed his grey eyes, gave up all hope, and then drowned.
Back upon the ship
Warren waited, looking over the side until the ripples in the water were devoured by the waves. When all was calm again he saluted his friend in fond remembrance, showing respect to a well-loved commanding officer. It felt like a long forgotten wound was finally starting to heal.
“At ease, Lieutenant Colonel Forren. Rest in peace.”
He turned inside the ship again, closed the emergency exit and headed back to base.
Mission accomplished.
