The Life Engineered (9 page)

That much was obvious at this point. I should have listened to Hera. There was little time for recriminations, however, as I needed to figure a way to escape Olympus—and soon.

“Guys? Any idea how I get off this rock?”

“Don’t be worried. You aren’t without help,” the Von Neumann reassured.

I looked up to the sky. The signature glow of two dozen thrusters, betraying another volley of incoming torpedoes, cut through the rising dust cloud. From Hera’s second hangar, violently pushing themselves upward, dozens of small rockets appeared on the horizon. A veritable arsenal had been unleashed on the heavens at once, and I would not care to be the one on the receiving end.

Instead of watching the spectacle, however, I decided to put my efforts toward remaining intact.

“I choose life,” I mumbled, quoting Koalemos’s desperate plea.

Once again I found myself climbing to the top of a hangar. This time, however, I had a much more solid understanding of what was happening around me.

When I reached the hangar’s roof and pulled myself onto the side of the sliding ceiling, I looked up to see Pele covered in concussive blasts, being chewed apart by a hundred small explosions. She’d known. Hera had known and prepared. That’s why she gave Aurvandil an inflated estimate of Koalemos’s repair schedule. She was buying time.

As Pele broke apart, slowly pulled in by Olympus’s weak gravity, Anhur was carefully breaking orbit, his lethal payload delivered. It didn’t matter anymore. Assuming these invading Capeks were here to capture Hera’s memory and personality cores, then their mission was accomplished.

Once again this left me stranded, with more torpedoes incoming and nowhere to run. I couldn’t climb high enough for the explosions to throw me into orbit, and considering what was waiting for me there, I doubted I’d want to anyway.

I braced for impact, trusting that Skinfaxi and Koalemos would make it off-world safely. I held on tight to the Nursery, regretful that I had not been able to save it or Hera’s. It had been a short life, all things considered, but the things I’d seen!

“Grab on, hold on, and make it tight!”

I looked up to see a strange craft, perhaps four meters in length, sleek and aerodynamic. It resembled a smooth white plastic sunflower seed but was all engines and thrusters.

With little hesitation I hopped on. As I did, a small hatch opened out of nowhere.

“You’re gonna need those hands for holding,” the ship said urgently.

I wasn’t sure I could trust this newcomer. What if it was a ploy to take the Nursery from me? What if it wasn’t? It didn’t matter; anywhere was safer than here for my precious payload. I dropped it into the new Capek.

“Fantastic and excellent. Now grab on—this is gonna get . . . wild!”

And it did. Whoever this Capek was, it was built for speed, maneuverability, and acceleration. With no atmosphere to cause friction, little gravity to hold it back, and no biology to worry about, there was no limit to what a well-built Capek could do. Before I could protest, we had accelerated to what my systems told me was over fifty thousand kilometers an hour.

My new friend aimed straight for the incoming torpedoes, dodging between them before any could react and intercept. In fact, this Capek was moving faster against the gravity well than the incoming missiles were toward the moon.

After the torpedoes, we had to weave through the debris that had once been the Lucretius-class Capek Pele. Taking a moment to look around, I noticed four more ships more or less exactly like the one I was attached to—another Von Neumann.

As we cleared the last of Pele’s vestiges, I saw that we were heading straight for Anhur, his overwhelming and terrible presence looming ever larger in my field of view.

“Watch this! We’re going to mess with that guy!”

My new companion seemed to almost be shouting, even though we were communicating through quancom. I wanted to protest that I’d rather make a clean escape than mess with a Capek of the destructive capabilities of Anhur, and that our payload was too precious to risk on childish stunts. Yet there was something about the self-assurance of my ride and savior that made me trust him and whatever he had in mind.

When we got close enough to the leviathan, my ride engaged his faster-than-light engines and surprised me by creating a gravity shift of enormous proportions. Instead of the space-time distortions of an Alcubierre drive I was expecting, I felt trapped in a crushing gravity field so powerful I could see it affect the gargantuan Capek we were flying toward. Then another part of the galaxy was pulled right between us and Anhur.

The lumbering behemoth became partially stuck in the field of overlapping reality, too large to go through the space fold, but too slow to escape its pull. As we passed him, flying at incredible speed while making barrel rolls, we moved on to a different part of the Milky Way, and once we had gone through, my new friend terminated the space fold.

Five of Anhur’s thruster spines had crossed over with us, and when the universe snapped back into place, the molecule-thin portions of him that were neither here nor there were stretched across light-years, severing the pieces clean off their original host and leaving them to drift, broken, in space.

“Ooooh yes!” my new companion shouted in victory. “A clean break, if I do say so myself.”

There was no small amount of bravado in its voice—not that I wasn’t grateful for the timely rescue.

“Yeah. That was very good.” I tried to share its enthusiasm. “Um, to whom do I owe my thanks?”

“I am Hermes, at your service.”

T
here was no stranger feeling. After the space fold, I was left floating astride a bizarre Capek out in interplanetary space. It took a moment for my navigation to pinpoint exactly where he had taken me, though knowing didn’t make me feel any better. Stars were tiny points of light in the distance. I couldn’t see any planets, not even on long-range sensors. If we were within a solar system, we were so near its edge for it not to matter.

I’d maneuvered myself to sit on one of Anhur’s dismembered thruster-spines. I did not feel comfortable riding a strange Capek and was getting disoriented floating around with no point of reference.

Hermes had excused himself, saying his attention was needed elsewhere. From our short discussion, I gathered that he was an odd cross between a Von Neumann– and a Sputnik-class. Much like Skinfaxi, he was a born traveler and enjoyed moving around the galaxy, seeing new places, meeting new people. Where my first companion was more interested in transporting passengers, Hermes was a messenger, carrying sensitive information and small goods or serving as a mobile quancom node. He offered to take me with him, but I opted to stay after securing his promise that he’d come back for me.

I wanted to inspect the broken pieces of the malicious Lucretius that had been hunting my friends and me through the galaxy. It helped keep my mind off of Skinfaxi’s and Koalemos’s fates, but more importantly, I was hoping to find some clue as to why explorers like Anhur and Pele had abandoned their vocation in favor of violence against their own kind.

As luck would have it, the damage done to Anhur unlocked the files I had on the leviathan. This was a twofold blessing. It allowed me complete and unrestricted access to everything about the functioning of this Capek—a precious resource considering how dangerous and secretive his kind were reputed to be. The other good news was that Hermes’s daring prank must have done considerable damage to the monster.

There was a lot to learn about Anhur and the whole Lucretius line of Capeks. In broad terms they were sentient cities designed to fly the gulf between galaxies on great explorations. The personalities that were adequate for this kind of mission, the level of isolation and independence that were to last thousands of years, were difficult to find in a Nursery. Those like Anhur were equipped with every conceivable technology, up to refineries and fabrication complexes. A Lucretius was thus capable of consuming materials to assemble new items, systems, or automatons. Aside from the multiple types of propulsion systems available to them, they were also equipped with a primitive version of a Nursery, a virtual world where they could store their personalities to better endure the trials of intergalactic travel.

“I’m back,” Hermes called out all of a sudden. His prideful exuberance was gone. “You have to come with me.”

I latched onto the little ship as he once more folded space for the convenience of fast travel to distant places. This time, however, I recognized the destination: we were going back to the City—or so I thought.

As we approached Ziggurat, I could somehow tell that something wasn’t quite right.

“When Hera realized who had sabotaged my little brother Koalemos,” Hermes explained, “she contacted me. I’m one of the fastest Capeks in the Milky Way, so she wanted me to come and assist you in saving what was most important to her. I also went out to warn as many of the other Gaias as I could. I sent messages to some but had to visit others.”

I felt terrible. I had been so focused on saving the legacy of my own progenitor that I hadn’t been able to take Hera’s with me. I lacked the background necessary to truly understand what this might mean for Hermes and Koalemos’s people.

“You think Aurvandil’s going after the other Gaias?”

“So far he hasn’t, but his actions have messed things up any way.”

I quickly saw what he meant. By the time we reached Babylon, there was very little of it left. The great city had been ravaged; large portions of it had crumbled into the clouds below, vanishing into the crushing depths of the atmosphere. Small dots swarmed around the ruined citadel, scrambling to either minimize damage or look for Capeks that might have been damaged in what I assumed was an attack.

“That’s more than just ‘messing things up,’” I mumbled. “What happened?”

“That other Lucretius, Pele, attacked here before going to Tartarus. She destroyed the City.”

I had to brace myself, and Hermes was forced to slow down as we entered the thick atmosphere of Ziggurat. The careful approach allowed me to take stock of the destruction. Sputniks were zipping around collecting other Capeks incapable of flight from the more unstable portions of the City. There was no question that the entire structure would eventually fail and plummet, to be consumed by the storms in the lower atmosphere. The plants inside Babylon already showed signs of withering from exposure to the caustic gases that enveloped Ziggurat at this altitude.

“I’m dropping you off here. You’re needed,” Hermes said before leaving me on the side of a terrace and taking off.

I took stock of the grounds and realized why he’d brought me to this specific location. This trip wasn’t for my benefit, despite the helpful exposition. Half a dozen Capeks lay broken and damaged around the terrace, collected and deposited here in a makeshift infirmary so they could hopefully be saved. Another Capek, shaped like a horrendous long-legged spider, was already stalking amongst the victims, giving care where it could.

I started work immediately, giving my attention to a large Sputnik resting on the terrace. Looking like a streamlined humpback whale and almost as large, the poor thing listed to one side, immobile like a beached carcass. Its hull showed signs of severe compression damage.

“He dived down into Ziggurat, too deep, to save a Capek who had fallen,” came a soft, familiar voice.

“Proioxis.” I turned to see the snakelike Capek winding her way gracefully between the victims. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks to Opochtli here. Can you help him?”

She had been the one who fell into the depths. I couldn’t imagine a worse demise, and despite my youth I had faced destruction enough times to consider myself a fair judge. To plummet for hours, enduring ever-increasing heat and pressure, systems failing one after another, each moment making it less and less likely to be saved, was the stuff of nightmares.

“I will do my best.” I began pulling out information on the great damaged Sputnik. “How did you manage to make it unscathed?”

“I am caretaker of Phoenix World, a planet that I am terraforming to support life once more. I am built to thrive in all environments my ward can provide, including the crushing depths of its oceans.”

I nodded and began work on Opochtli. My first priority was making sure he was stable and that none of his systems, physical or otherwise, were in any danger of developing further irreparable damage. If he was stable, I would have to abandon him and move on to the next victim.

The work was relentless. With Proioxis’s help I cut off one of the giant’s long lateral fins to gain access to his main service hatch. Thankfully, Capeks didn’t experience pain, or rather, could only if they wished to.

“Opochtli? Do you hear me, big guy?” I asked as I stepped into his guts.

“I hear you,” the whale groaned.

“Opochtli. That’s a Mayan name?”

“Aztec. My progenitor is Coatlicue.”

“Excellent. I’m going to be doing a few strange things to your cognitive core. Let me know if anything feels out of place. Also, don’t worry if I keep asking the same questions over and over.”

“Acknowledged.”

His voice was deep, calm, and melodious. I doubt he would have been able to remain this serene were he seeing what I was. The lower atmosphere where he had delved was composed of thick clouds of sulfur dioxide, which apparently remained lodged inside the breached sections of his body, compounding the damage. His surface components suffered massive corrosion, making repairs more complicated and riskier.

“Your friend did this,” he said as I took apart the framework that kept his various cognitive systems firmly in place.

“No friend of mine would do such a thing, and you shouldn’t speak. You need me to concentrate.”

“Aurvandil. He’s been plotting this for a while,” he continued, his deep voice strained in its urgency.

“How would you know?” I didn’t want to sound like I was defending Aurvandil.

“He has been preaching his strange brand of emancipation for centuries. No one thought he meant anything by it. Clearly, we were wrong to ignore him.”

“All right. I really need you to be quiet now.”

“No! This is important. Ask Proioxis. She’ll tell you what Aurvandil, the great thinker, is really up to.”

Capek society functions at a strange pace. On one hand, events can happen at an incredible rate, from the construction of a vast arsenal like Hera built while waiting for Anhur’s attack, to the quickly cascading events that led to my current situation. On the other hand, certain things were slower and afforded more leeway.

It took us days to repair or stabilize all the wounded Capeks from the City, leaving some without care or attention for terrifyingly long periods. Yet we managed a survival rate of nearly 100 percent. Some victims would never be the same, irreplaceable systems damaged beyond repair, but almost all would survive, adapt, and thrive once more, given time.

Murugan, the other Capek who had been giving care to the fallen, was an indispensable ally, quickly taking charge and directing us. Bes, a swarming Von Neumann that joined our effort, and I were able to better capitalize on our various skills and strengths.

I was curious to learn that other Capeks of similar vocation were not equipped with the vast database of technical specification I had been blessed with. In fact, Murugan shot me a suspicious look (I think) when he realized how much I knew about each of our broken patients.

Technically, Bes wasn’t dedicated to rescue and repair the same way Murugan and I were. His vocation was art and construction, skills that came in handy in rebuilding limbs and repairing complex pieces of machinery that were vital parts of our fallen wards. Being made of dozens of bug-sized shards, each shaped like a scarab and equipped with a different tool, he was capable of fine molecular welding and reshaping metals and pseudo-plastic perfectly to the specifications we gave him.

Midway through our operations, we relocated aboard Suijin, the largest Sputnik-class Capek I had seen—large enough to rival Anhur in scale, though unfortunately not in firepower.

From Suijin’s main deck, designed for observation and survey, we all witnessed the final moments of Babylon. To be fair, the collapse did not conveniently occur moments after our departure. Once completely evacuated, the City was intentionally collapsed to avoid further incident.

Once the demolition effort was complete, my improvised team and I delved back into our repair efforts. By the time we were finished, all wounded Capeks were sufficiently functional to no longer require our care, and we had moved away from Ziggurat and off into interstellar space.

I stood by the edge of Suijin’s great transparent dome, which resembled a crystal shell on a giant turtle’s back. Stars streaked by in the distance as we traveled, using the colossal Sputnik’s Alcubierre drive. Many other spacefaring Capeks rode within the same space-time bubble, like dolphins swimming in a ship’s wake.

With no small amount of satisfaction and relief, I saw Opochtli fly with slow, deliberate grace between his peers. He slid comfortably next to the great transparent dome, close to me. We were separated by a thick layer of translucent pseudo-plastic, a pressurized atmosphere, and the vacuum of space, yet at a distance of only a few meters. It was difficult not to be in awe of such wonders.

“Thank you,” the great whale said.

“I’m sorry it’s not perfect,” I said, though I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of. “There are some things that were beyond my capabilities to repair.”

“Superficial details. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Scars I will gladly bear as a reminder of those that did not fare as well as I. Now, go speak with Proioxis.”

With that he flew away from the window, rejoining the small fleet of Sputniks that accompanied us on our journey. I could see all six of Hermes’s bodies flying with them, doing barrel rolls and acrobatics to keep busy. I was in awe of Opochtli. I, more than any other, had seen the damage he’d suffered to save a fellow Capek. From that I could easily see our human origin.

I walked over to Proioxis. I could just as easily have opened a channel to her directly and spoken with her over quancom, yet I was discovering and enjoying a sort of etiquette amongst my people. While there was nothing stopping any of us from using more efficient and impersonal means of communications, there was a joy in meeting with someone face to face, or whatever passed as faces, to discuss matters of importance.

I found Proioxis looking out at the passing stars. Many of us passengers were pulled into a desperate melancholy. There had been few casualties, but the confusion and uncertainty weighed heavily on the survivors.

“Out there my world is being left untended and unprotected,” Proioxis said as I got near.

For machines, Capeks were remarkably expressive, each using its unique kind of body language to communicate emotions and intent. Proioxis, despite her snakelike appearance and rigid expression, managed to look sad and worried. Her head hung low on her long body, but she still looked up through the segmented glass dome.

“Does your world need to be defended that badly?” I asked, ignorant of what was at stake.

“May b e.”

“Opochtli said you might know something about why all of this is happening.”

“Maybe,” she repeated. “Do you know why I tend a planet’s biosphere? Why I dedicate my potentially eternal life to growing an ecosystem when there is literally nothing for me to gain from the effort?”

“I’m assuming it has to do with the personality you developed in the Nursery. That it’s the sort of activity you learned to love and cherish and that provides you with a goal you find fulfilling.”