Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (27 page)

The Great Maker shook his head slightly in the dark, but the Pope caught the movement.

“Do you not have faith, Colonel Maker?” the Pop asked. “Is there nothing in your life that you feel is greater than you? That you must go to to get your strength?”

“I have machines,” the Great Maker said as he tapped some of the hardware that made up his body. “And that is all the faith I need.”

“That may be all the faith you need,” the Pope grinned in the gloom. “But even you are beholden to the flesh, am I right? I know what you really need to survive.”

The Pope set a basket down next to the Great Maker.

“I do not know what you have in there,” the Great Maker said. “But I do not believe I will be able to digest and assimilate it. My diet has been very specific for a long time.”

“Yes, I am aware,” the Pope said. “And as much as it pained us, our cooks were able to create your food from the files uploaded from your mech. This is what you eat.”

“You accessed my mech?” the Great Maker asked. “That is quite the intrusion.”

“A small price for our hospitality, wouldn’t you say?” the Pope smiled.

The Great Maker lifted the top of the basket and the aroma of fresh deader mush carried on the wind to his nose.

“You heated it too high,” the Great Maker said as he lifted a bowl and spoon from the basket. “But it will do.”

“Not what you truly crave,” the Pope grinned. “But what you need to live.”

The Great Maker’s red eyes burned brightly. “What do you know of my cravings?”

“We all must push our desires away for the greater good,” the Pope said. “It is the curse of being more than just a normal person.”

“You know nothing about me,” the Great Maker grimaced, taking a bite of the mush. “This is all I need.”

“Of course it is. I’ll leave you to your meal, Colonel,” the Pope said. “Enjoy the night air as long as you please. Find me before you retire for the evening. I have much to discuss.”

***

Sister Estelle set down the tea service on the small table that the Pope and the Great Maker sat at.

“Thank you, Sister,” the Pope smiled. “An evening blessing indeed.”

“My pleasure, JP,” Sister Estelle replied. “Enjoy.”

She bowed slightly and left the two men to their conversation.

“You were saying?” the Great Maker prompted as the Pope poured the tea. “None for me, thank you. The meal you provided was satisfactory.”

“Can you not share a cup of tea with me?” the Pope asked. “It’s from the leaves of a local shrub that grows in the canyon. I find it quite fitting.”

“I cannot,” the Great Maker insisted. “My digestion.”

“Ah, yes,” the Pope said as he blew the steam from his cup. “Of course.” The Pope took a sip and closed his eyes briefly as he said a silent prayer of thanks. “As I was saying before, you have skills that we need to help us reclaim the wasteland from the unrighteous. The wasteland is not for Commander Capreze to own or take. He has not been elected, by man or God, and does not have the right to act as our moral and social police.”

“Yes, you have already said that,” the Great Maker said. “But how can I be of use?”

“You know metal, we know flesh,” the Pope said. “Can we not bring them together as one fighting unit?”

“You would like me to use your deaders as pilots?”

“No, no, dear me, no,” the Pope laughed. “Our flesh is sacred to us just as your metal is sacred to you. They should be separate, not together as Capreze insists.”

“An assault on the Stronghold?” the Great Maker shook his head. “I have been in that Stronghold many years ago. It is not easily taken, if at all.”

“I am aware of that.”

“The element of surprise would be needed,” the Great Maker said. “And I do not know how that could be accomplished with the numbers you have. They will see us coming.”

“We have already tested that,” the Pope said. “We can overwhelm them with the numbers before they know what they are up against. My Brothers and Sisters know how to disable their long range sensors and also how to disable their perimeter defenses.”

“And the up close Stronghold defenses?” Colonel Maker asked. “The firepower is considerable.”

“As are our numbers,” the Pope said. “But your knowledge of machines will be what we need to destroy their guns. It is not a hard plan.”

The Great Maker steepled his fingers and thought for a few moments. The Pope did not disturb the cyborg, letting him process the flood of information.

“When is the attack to take place?” the Great Maker finally asked.

“In two days time,” the Pope said. “It cannot be any later.”

“And why so soon?” the Great Maker asked, astonished at the hurry.

“Because I have received reports that most of the mechs have left the Stronghold and are on their way to various destinations,” the Pope said, his smile widening. “They have a war already in progress. We need to strike now when the Stronghold is basically left unprotected.”

“I will need to confirm the repairs of my mech,” the Great Maker said.

“As I knew you would,” the Pope said as he stood. “I’ll take you to it. Are we in agreement?”

“Who will lead this attack? You?”

“It’s my destiny,” the Pope said. “I will go to the Stronghold with the Disciples. I am God’s vessel here on Earth. For me to remain behind would show a tragic lack of faith.”

“You put too much faith in faith,” the Great Maker grinned. The look did not become him and the Pope had to struggle not to cringe.

Thirty-Three

“You want to talk about it, Doc?” Rachel asked as she piloted her mech across the wasteland towards Monterey, the sliver of moon just above. “I’m sure there’s more to your story than just betrayal.”

“Not according to your father,” Themopolous replied from the jumpseat that Jay installed so she could ride with Rachel and keep an eye on her. “I doubt he will see me as anything but a traitor from now on.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Rachel said. “He gets his feelings hurt easily. He’ll get over it.”

“He’s been having less nightmares,” Themopolous stated. “That may help his outlook on my situation.”

“What is your situation?” Rachel asked. “Who exactly are you working for?”

“You,” Themopolous said. “And I mean that personally. I am here to help you.” Themopolous took a deep breath before starting again. “I was sent to observe you and to get cerebral scans so that maybe your ability could be reproduced.”

“Can it?” Rachel asked.

“In a way,” Themopolous answered. “But not in the way everyone thought. Your cerebral make-up is tied to you as much physically as psychologically. It cannot be separated. To reproduce your ability they had to reproduce you.”

Rachel nearly stumbled the mech. “Reproduce me? What the fuck does that mean?”

“You two okay over there?” Mathew asked over the com.

“Fine, just stepped on a rock,” Rachel replied.

“Uh…okay,” Mathew said. “You sure?”

“Can a couple girls get a little privacy, please?” Rachel snapped before severing the com connection.

“You were a little harsh there,” Themopolous said.

“I’ll make it up to him,” Rachel said. “Don’t change the subject. What do you mean they reproduced me?”

“Cloning,” Themopolous stated frankly. “They grew your body to be used as a Vessel.”

“Fuck me,” Rachel whispered. “Okay, who did this and what’s a Vessel?”

“A Vessel is a cloned being, an American legend,” Themopolous explained. “Capable of carrying vast amounts of information. It’s like a walking mainframe in a way.”

“That’s possible?”

“Because of you? Yes, it was possible,” Themopolous said. “One Vessel was successful. It held crucial information that had to get to the American brass.”

“Didn’t get there in time, did it?” Rachel observed.

“No, it didn’t,” Themopolous replied.

“Hey!” Mathew shouted over the com. “You blocked me out!”

“Yes, I did,” Rachel said. “So how did you get through?”

“My bad,” Jethro said. “He called me and started whining like a pussy-whipped little bitch. It was pitiful.”

“I just needed to make sure you two were alright,” Mathew said.

“You wanted to make sure I hadn’t turned and killed her, right?” Themopolous said.

“Well…yeah,” Mathew admitted. “Don’t cut com again, please.”

“If I knew you’d get all pathetic about it I wouldn’t have,” Rachel smiled. “A little space isn’t a bad thing, Matty.”

“You’ve been in a coma for months, Rachel,” Mathew replied. “There has been too much space already.”

“Can I go now?” Jethro asked. “I really don’t want to listen to you two anymore.”

“Yes, Jethro, you can go before you get love cooties,” Rachel laughed.

“Phew.”

***

“You still there, Jethro?” Mathew asked.

“Yep,” Jethro replied over the com. “We are secure. They can’t hear us.”

“Are you monitoring their conversation?”

“I am,” Jethro acknowledged. “I can hear every word they’re saying. You want me to patch you in?”

“Nah,” Mathew said. “That would be a bit pathetic. Just give me the highlights when you hear something interesting.”

“Maybe you should just ask Rachel about it later,” Jethro suggested.

“Because I don’t know if she’ll tell me everything,” Mathew said. “I’m glad she’s back, but she hasn’t fully been the before Rachel. There is something different. I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“I know, you keep saying that,” Jethro laughed. “Listen, man, I’ve seen her scans. She’s in serious pain. If she seems off it’s because she’s been in a coma, as you have pointed out, and because she’s on painkillers to keep her head from exploding.”

“Are the painkillers going to affect her piloting?” Mathew asked. “I need to know in case we get in the shit.”

“How should I know? I’m not the doctor.”

“Bullshit,” Mathew responded. “You have the full mainframe in your head.”

“Actually, the mainframe is my head, man,” Jethro corrected. “And it isn’t the picnic you think it is. I may have a wealth of medical data at my virtual fingertips, but I still have to comprehend the info.”

“Your super computer brain can’t figure it out?” Mathew asked. “What’s the point of keeping you around?”

“Ha ha, fucker,” Jethro replied. “Yes, my super computer brain can figure it out, but Themopolous has instincts and insight that I don’t. Plus, she has info that isn’t in my database. I do the best I can, but she’s the real doctor.”

“Fair enough,” Mathew conceded. “Still, let me know if you catch anything I need to hear.”

“Gotcha.”

***

The night sky was incredible. Rachel hadn’t realized how much she’d missed open space even with the dangers it presented. She had vague recollections of wasteland dreams while she was in her coma, but the memories were faint and they couldn’t touch the reality of actually stomping across hard packed dirt in a 50-ton mech with the stars shining above.

Themopolous had dozed off an hour earlier and Rachel was content to pilot in silence. Well, as much silence as a two-story battle machine would allow. Rachel decided to do something that all training frowned upon: open the cockpit hatch while still moving.

She disengaged the alarm and opened the hatch, closing her eyes and breathing deep the cool night air. While it never truly cooled down in the wasteland it was better than the stuffy air in the cockpit. The breeze blew in and Themopolous stirred in her seat, but didn’t wake up.

…over there…set those pilings…right on it…

Rachel instantly checked her scanners for the source of the voice she heard. There must have been someone pretty close for the sound to reach her up in her cockpit.

…clear the area…no, right there…Mel…stop that…

There was nothing. No movement, no signs of life; not even signs of deaders. The voice seemed to be floating on the breeze, carried to her ears from far away.

…supplies…the infirmary…it’ll hold, sir…no, Mel…

It was like a long range com signal, fading in and out, but without the static interference. Where the voice was quiet there was just nothing.

“Weird,” Rachel said to herself. “Always something new in the wasteland.”

Hello?

Rachel stiffened. That had sounded pretty direct. She looked at the sensors a second time, but there was still no one in the area.

“I’m cracking up,” she laughed quietly. “First night in the waste and I’m already losing it.”

Hello? Who is that?

Rachel snapped her head around to make sure Themopolous wasn’t messing with her, but the doctor was fast asleep.

“Uh…hello?” Rachel asked quietly. “Who are you?”

There was silence for a moment.

Rachel?

“Oh, shit, what the fuck,” Rachel exclaimed, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Rachel Capreze?

“What the hell,” Rachel thought. “I’m losing it.”

No, you aren’t. I’m pushing myself hard right now and it must have forced a connection between us. This is Beth Laughlin. I’m with the Americans, I mean, I am an American. And your clone. That’s why we can talk.

“Uh, uh,” Rachel thought. “What you are is my brain going over the edge. I’ve been having really bad headaches. I bet you’re a fucking blood clot or something. I’m about to stroke the fuck out.”

No, you aren’t. We are speaking telepathically. Like I said I’m pushing myself hard so my abilities are amped all the way up. I didn’t think this was possible, but because we share the same DNA and cerebral make-up, and because of our innate technopathy, somehow we can communicate.

“Definitely a stroke,” Rachel thought. “God, I hope I don’t piss myself.”

Will you listen, please! I am real! We are talking with our mother fucking brains! OUR FUCKING BRAINS! Now shut up for five seconds and pay attention. I can’t keep this up for long.

Rachel shut up.

Good. We are down to three ships and lost half of our people. The Three’s subs tore us apart and we are regrouping on the coastline off Monterey. I am fortifying the ships we have and creating an armed float out of the debris from our destroyed ships. We can hold steady for a day or so, but not much longer.