Korbeu
“Handy’s here to see what he can see with you and the baby,” Bishop whispered at Beth’s ear. “I don’t trust myself with this and I’m going crazy needing to know.”
“Handy?” she barely said.
“It seems I’ve designed him to be very close to me. And my entire lineage.”
Beth’s dizzy symptom spiked at those words.
“Steady Mah-Mah,” Handy said on her other side, helping Bishop walk her to the couch. A warmth spread from his touch through her skin, relaxing her.
On the couch, Bishop sat next to her. She looked at Handy, standing to the side. She reached out to him, shocked that she did. “Sit,” she said.
He looked just as surprised and cautious as he sat, his dark eyes captivating her.
She leaned in, looking. “Your eyes,” she said softly, giving in to the need to feel his face.
Her fingers connected to warm skin, and she gasped a smile at the red flare in his irises.
“You’re… beautiful,” she said, startled with herself as she looked at Bishop.
She found him smiling, then saw that Handy smiled too.
“I think you made him blush,” Bishop said.
“Oh!” Beth gasped, bringing both hands to a suddenly jumpy boy.
“May I, Mah-Mah?” Handy whispered softly, his eyes on her belly. They rose and locked with hers, making her breaths stutter at what was in them. She didn’t even know what it was, only that it was oddly profound in a way that made her feel safe.
“Yes,” she said as Bishop held her hand.
Her body did the exact opposite of what she’d expect when anybody reached for her womb—it relaxed. Even when his mechanical one joined in.
“Oh boy,” she said at how much the baby moved.
“You okay?” Bishop asked.
She nodded. “He’s moving a lot.”
“He’s excited,” Handy softly said, his eyes slowly closing. “He’s not afraid of me,” he half marveled, carefully moving his hands.
Beth watched, her heart hammering at all the strange pulses she felt in her body.
“What is this I’m feeling?” Handy barely whispered, angling his head slowly, his brows gently pulling together.
His hands paused at one point and he slowly exhaled.
“This is remarkable, Father.” His head angled the other way.
“Mah-Mah is an interface…” His hands gradually moved, eyes still closed.
“He’s building, Pah-Pah,” he said, astonished.
“He’s building… something the world is not allowed to see.
” His breath rushed out as his hands moved slowly still. “It is… utterly remarkable.”
Beth’s chest ached when Bishop wiped tears from his face.
“I can’t feel him,” Bishop gasped, his sadness breaking her heart. “Not like I can when I touch other things.”
“Ohhh, Pah-Pah,” he cooed like he spoke to the baby too.
“That’s because you’re a formidable Quantum Architect.
He senses the executable power in you.” He opened his eyes and fixed them on Bishop.
“And what he’s building is not yet executable.
It’s merely a blueprint. Of the most brilliant logic I have ever seen,” he breathed in soft awe. “He’s protecting it. That’s all.”
Handy reached for Beth’s hand and placed it on her womb. “Mah-Mah,” he said, to her, the red in his eyes glowing on her. “Tell the little one that his Pah-Pah is here. And he wants to touch him. That he doesn’t need to fear him. Show him with your voice,” he said softly.
Her breath shook as she placed both hands on her womb. “Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, gliding her palms over him. “Your Pah-Pah is here, and he wants to feel you. He loves you so very much.” She wiped her tears. “You don’t ever have to be afraid of him sweet baby.”
Handy took Bishop’s hand and placed it gently over hers.
Bishop’s fingers softly pressed.
“You feel that?” she whispered to the baby, her chest tight. “That’s your Pah-Pah.”
Bishop buried his face in her neck, his other hand cradling her head. He suddenly lifted and looked at her womb, his breaths coming fast. His eyes flew to Handy. “I can feel him,” he barely whispered.
“See? He just needed Mah-Mah to show him,” Handy said as Bishop’s breaths came faster.
Bishop gasped, eyes locking with Handy. “I feel it.”
Handy’s smile grew. “It’s magnificent,” he breathed.
“What… is it?”
“It’s what he’s building,” Handy said.
“It’s… fragmented.”
Handy covered Bishop’s hand now. “For protection.”
Bishop’s tears fell. “It’s sequenced,” he gasped, astonished.
“Do you see it, Pah-Pah?” Handy paused their hands on the left.
“I do,” he choked, staring at Handy.
“What is it?” Beth asked.
“Do not speak it aloud,” Handy said quietly. “It’s a protected knowledge. Designed to be passed to you through the maternal gate. He’s building in phases,” Handy cooed softly. “You will receive more of it each month.
“What is that?” Bishop asked, closing his eyes.
Handy angled his head. “I’m not seeing anything,” he said. “He may only be showing you.”
Bishop lowered his face to her womb. “What is Pah-Pah seeing, mah sweet bee-bee?” Bishop quietly asked.
Beth fought to breathe when a sob strained his handsome face. “His name,” he gushed, his voice breaking as he raised up, locking gazes with Beth. “Korbeu Krow.” He kissed her then lowered back to her womb, holding and petting it with both hands, another raw cry forcing its way out.
“Korbeu Krow,” Handy said, smiling. “That’s a bad-a-double-s name.”
Beth’s laugh gushed then Bishop’s followed. He lifted up and pulled Handy’s head to his shoulder. “Thank you for this brother. Thank you.”
****
“There he is!” Sister Beatrice said, turning to Sinrik excitedly. “Look! He’s tending the garden!” she praised. “And he absolutely loves it!”
Sinrik studied his soldier from a distance, searching for tampering signs. He was his first creation and there was none greater after him. He eyed the black robe tied at the waist, his hairless, tattooed head making him look like a Samuri.
Tending a garden wasn’t automatically a red flag if he’d defaulted to captivity mode. The protocol allowed him a degree of submission to his captors while securing his escape.
But for now, Sinrik needed to set all his protocols to non-lethal, so he didn’t kill a nun with a cucumber.
“Come on,” his birdie tweeted, all pride and joy as she hurried to her other charity work. “I do think he loves husbandry,” she bragged. “Morgue!” she called. “You have a visitor!”
Morgue straightened and stared at her then Sinrik, his eyes and face as lethal as they should be.
He watched him with the nun who handled her charity case with her bare hands, showering him with near royalty-status praise.
“What a great work you’ve done here, Morgue,” she gasped, inspecting the groomed plants.
“I have never seen more happier plants!” she assured, smashing her tiny fists on her waist.
Sinrik pulled his gaze off the flitting bird and ran into Morgue’s lethal stare while Beatrice prattled on. Sinrik approached him. “I need to access your Directive Stack. It’s on the base of the brain stem.”
The look in Morgue’s stare was definitely more than what Sinrik had put.
“I know where it is,” Morgue said. “And you no longer have permission to access it.”
Sinrik watched him return to his husbandry work. He took in a deep breath and looked around. “Do you know who altered your Directives and how?”
“I do,” he said, proving the override with a direct withholding of data.
“Have you spoken to the Belle Eveque? Beth?” Sinrik asked, hoping it was her work and not her husband’s.
“I have not,” he said as Beatrice came to stand next to Sinrik with a look.
“What?” he demanded quietly.
“I already told you who did it,” she said, barely letting her mouth move.
He regarded Morgue. “Did Bishop touch your Directive Stack?”
“He did,” Morgue said without looking up from his bare hand pruning.
“Are you no longer under my command?” Sinrik pressed, needing to hear it with his own words.
Morgue straightened and looked right at him while Beatrice suddenly looked panicked. “He removed the failsafe. And replaced it with a conscience gate.”
“Yes!” Beatrice said happily, grabbing Sinrik’s arm, tugging him. “Let’s see about the business at the bayou just over there.”
“And how are you going to use a conscience if you don’t’ possess one?”
Morgue moved his gaze around him. “I’ll gain one.”
“How?”
“What do you mean how,” his birdie fussed, suddenly right between them.
“He’ll learn, that’s how. He’s got a brilliant mind and body—he’ll use it as it was intended.
To nurture and care for all living things.
” She eyeballed Sinrik with wide eyes. “You could stand some rewiring yourself if that isn’t common sense to you!
” she said sharply, bossy gaze closer before whispering, “You should be ashamed of yourself for removing a man’s conscience—”
“Not his,” he assured, cutting her off.
She dug her stare into his, then looked back at Morgue, then back at him, aiming her little index finger at him. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Mr. Creator of Mayhem and… Director of Chaos.”
“Why are you whispering?” he whispered back, her fearless soldier side still humorous. “Don’t forget God cast Satan from the Heavens.”
She stepped right up to her enemy now, allowing him a closeup view of her bravery. “Watch yourself,” she ordered quietly. “Or I may just request the Bishop force you in servitude to a bully master.”
He grinned. “Like you?”
Her lips tightened and she spun, walking to Morgue. “Remember, you are a brilliant man with a beautiful mind and… soul,” she said, lightly patting his shoulder, possibly seeing the body compliment as inappropriate. “Your duty is to your own choices, no other.”
Morgue gave a near reverent nod, and it had Sinrik curious as to how he saw her.
“So you’re his new master?” Sinrik asked, getting whipped with her gaze.