Chapter 24
Wyl
Breem’s first shot hits my shoulder, pushing me back a step, but it’s not enough to stop me.
I was going to warn them. I was going to caution them against treating the droids with such cruelty. Now?
Now I’m going to help the droids end them.
Organics don’t deserve the life we’ve been given. We’re stupid, callous jerks, fucking scum, and honestly, the galaxy would be much better off without us.
Admiral Breem keeps firing, but I keep coming, blind to the pain that I’m sure I’ll feel when this is over.
Step by step, I close the gap between us.
There’s a certain joy I feel beneath the violent rage, a peace when I see the sheer, unfiltered panic in his eyes.
He knows he’s about to die at my hands, and that almost soothes me.
Almost.
The second I’m within reach of him, I grab the barrel of the blaster, searing my skin on the hot metal, and yank the gun out of his grip. He fumbles for the ceremonial knife at his belt, but it’s too late.
My other hand hits his throat so hard he gags.
I dig my fingers into his skin, my fingernails drawing blood.
The bastard’s face turns red, then purple, then blue as his air supply is cut off by my crushing hold on him.
Breem claws at my wrists, but it’s futile.
I won’t let go until I watch the life drain from his cold, terror-filled eyes.
Long after he stops squirming and fighting, long after his last, rattling breath, I choke Admiral Breem while chaos erupts outside my cell. Some small part of me realizes that the revolution has begun, that the droids are rising up against Epigan III and the rest of the organics.
Good for them.
Strong hands suddenly grab my shoulders, and I wonder if a guard is trying to save the dead admiral. It’s only when I hear the TC unit’s voice that I snap back to the here and now.
“Wyl Nosurn, where is your data port?”
“Huh? What port? I don’t have any cybernetics.” I release Breem and watch as his body collapses at my feet. Turning back around, I realize the cart Aura was on has vanished—but TC-39 is here with me. “TC, I thought you were going to save Aura. What are you doing here? Where is she?”
“Aura is safe,” it says in its calm monotone, “but you are not. You are still an organic life form, and that life is at risk. Come with me.”
I follow TC through the corridors of what I assume is the dungeon at the Galactic Seat. Since there’s no hull plating or visible life support, it’s unlikely that we’re on a ship. I must’ve been out for a long time … which means Aura suffered for days.
Everywhere we go, we dodge both blaster and projectile gunfire, with TC taking several hits to protect me.
While I appreciate the effort, it’s probably useless.
Now that I’m not caught up in my haze of fury, I feel every one of my half-dozen blaster burns from Admiral Breem’s weapon.
I’m not too far from death unless TC has some miracle cure waiting when we get out of here.
These wounds should’ve taken me down already; any second now, the adrenaline will fail me, and I’ll collapse.
TC hustles me through a veritable maze, but finally we emerge into the artificial daylight of the Grand Courtroom of the station that serves as the Galactic Seat of the Authority—and home to Regent Epigan III, our current ruler.
Normally, I’d expect to see the current Epigan on the throne at this time in the galactic solar cycle, surrounded by guards and various galactic officials; the lights of the Courtroom are keyed to the Earth solar rotation, with the galactic timestamp set to a specific Earth time zone.
When Epigan the First took over after unseating Archer IX, he kept this pattern despite his race being from a different planet, and his son and grandson continued that tradition.
The general Court runs throughout most of the day, with an occasional night Court for the nocturnal species of the Galaxy.
All that’s on the throne right now is a charred, bloody smear, and the surrounding room is painted in matching colors. I freeze in place at the sight, but before my mind can fully process it, TC yanks my arm and urges me to continue.
“We must get to the main med bay of the Seat, Wyl Nosurn. Time is of the essence.”
Yeah, no shit. I was thinking the same thing.
The carnage doesn’t stop there. Sure, the firefights die down as more and more organics succumb to their wounds.
Even some of the hardier races can’t compete with android endurance and heightened pain thresholds.
The farther we go, the less fighting we encounter—but we come across more and more piles of dead bodies.
I don’t see Aura among them, which is a relief, but it concerns me that TC wants to take me to the med bay.
It said she was safe, but what’s its definition of “safe”?
I think the only thing keeping me upright is the hope of seeing her again before I die. My burns ache, and my lungs scream at me to stop and lie down. Rest. Let the darkness that creeps at the edges of my vision take over …
My feet stumble along behind TC-39, each step growing more and more difficult to achieve. After what feels like hours, it lifts me by my waist and slings me over its shoulder.
The hallways bounce upside-down in my vision as it breaks into a highspeed run.
Not a comfortable way to travel in my current state. With each bounding step the android takes, a fresh spike of pain lances through me. The darkness spikes, too, creating a strobing effect as reality flashes off and on.
Shit. We might not make it to Aura before I’m gone.
“TC … tell Aura—” A fit of coughing overtakes me, and the thick taste of coppery blood coats my tongue. “Tell her …”
My android carrier skids to a halt in a bright, noisy room. I shut my eyes against the glare, until Aura’s voice breaks through the haze of death that threatens to engulf me.
“Tell me what, Wyl?”
I squint up at her as TC-39 sets me on a gurney. She’s in one piece again, but the harsh red lines from her disassembly remain. They’ll probably leave scars. “I love you, doll. I’m so sorry that I left you with Leeds. He—”
Before I can explain, she shoves a strange electronic device on my head. Wires and tubes connect the thing to a monitor across the room.
“Aura? I don’t have a head injury … That’s about the only thing that’s not injured.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but instead of laughing, she frowns. Tears fill her eyes, and she strokes my cheek.
“I know. This will help, my love.”
That doesn’t make any sense. How can a head device help with all my other injuries?
She picks up a syringe and jabs the needle in my neck. “I am sorry, Wyl. This procedure requires expedience, and it will go much more smoothly if your mind is not conscious for what must transpire.”
“Huh?”
If she answers, I’m not aware of it. The second she pushes the plunger, I pass out.
When I wake up, the lights seem strange. A whole dizzying array of hues floods my vision, and even when I shut my eyes against them, I still see them.
“Are you in pain, Wyl?”
Aura’s voice sounds fuller, richer, but maybe that’s the delusion taking over. I must be pretty close to death to be hallucinating this much, and when I take the time to self-assess, I realize that nothing hurts anymore.
Fuck. I’m really close to death, then.
“No, Aura,” I say, trying to keep my voice even to hide my fear. “No pain.”
“That is good. Now, please stand for me. I need to check to see if the procedure was a success, and I cannot do that with you lying down.”
Stand? Is she nuts? I couldn’t even finish the run to the med bay without being carried by the TC droid.
How am I supposed to stand? Even if they managed to infuse me with enough fluid to stabilize the blood loss, there’s still the muscle strain and exhaustion to deal with. “Aura, I’m not sure I can.”
“You can.”
Well, glad at least one of us is confident about that. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises, doll.”
Aura smiles at me, and I notice that her scars look much better already. Maybe I was wrong about how bad they would be; they’re almost invisible now.
Surprisingly, I find that I’m able to move; it’s just that everything’s stiff.
Jerky. Almost like I never learned how to use my arms and legs, like a newborn thyx.
Maybe I was unconscious longer than I realize, and there’s been some atrophy.
Did they actually manage to save me despite how badly I was hurt?
Aura offers her arm as support, and with her help I stand up. Looking down at myself, everything seems … intact. Pristine, almost.
I also note that I’m completely naked.
Thankfully, when I glance around to see who’s here in the med bay with us, all I see are droids. That’s one small favor, I suppose. I’d hate to wake up in the buff surrounded by strange nurses, human or otherwise.
Although … There are only droids. Not a single organic life form here besides me.
Just androids.
“So …” I start slowly, uncertain if I should even ask the question that’s on my mind. “Aura, where are the survivors from the battle at the Seat?”
The love of my life stares at me like I just grew a second head.
I scratch the back of my neck, feeling around, but nope.
Just one neck, one head. Although, there’s an odd lump back there that I didn’t have before.
A scar, maybe? Did I get shot in the back of the neck during my escape with the TC unit?
“Wyl, we are the survivors.”
“Huh?” It’s my turn for the startled glance. “Doll, I’m talking about the organic survivors. Y’know, the entire population of the Galactic Seat? Those guys?”
“The population of the Galactic Seat was made up of more than organics.”
Her reply is a bit curt, her expression stern, and I wonder what I could’ve said to piss her off.
“Well, yeah, I see that there are droids who survived, but are you saying I’m the only human—the only organic being at all—who lived?”
“That is technically correct.”
“But … there were thousands of organics on the station …”
Finally, Aura’s face softens, and she gently nudges me back onto the gurney. “Please, sit. You have been in stasis for quite some time. Perhaps I had you stand too soon.”
“What’s going on?”
“I will explain as best as I can. You survived, Wyl, but your body did not.” She frowns, and I’m not sure I want to hear this. “The device I placed on your head when TC brought you here was a neural scanner. It documented, recorded, and saved all the data in your brain before you expired.”
“Before I what?”
She winces at the volume of my outburst, and I immediately regret yelling. Maybe this wasn’t her idea; maybe she was forced by the others.
“Wyl, there was too much damage to your organic form when you arrived. This was the only way to prolong your life.” Her fingertips brush across my chest, drawing my attention, and again I see only intact, organic skin.
Even my scars from before the battle are still there, with the exception of the new one I should have on my abdomen …
… Which makes no sense when I think about it. If Aura and the droids cloned me a fresh, new body, why do I still have scars? Clones don’t have scars.
“Aura, please tell me what’s going on. You say I died, but I’m right here—organic body and all.” I gesture to my crotch. “See? They don’t put these on newer droids. No male or female androids, remember? It’s Galactic law.”
She shakes her head. “No, Wyl. While your outer layer is grown from your body’s cells, along with certain other parts, you are not completely organic.
” Her hand moves to a scar I got the night I broke it off with my old Jiinite girlfriend, Kya.
It’s right over my heart, and if Kya had been a half a second faster, she would’ve killed me before I ever met Aura.
“I had him recreate these because I find them beautiful. They are signs that you survived.”
I gently pull her hand off my chest as I start tracking what she’s saying. A gut feeling sinks in, something telling me what the new scar on my neck really is, and I suspect that if I cut my arm, I wouldn’t bleed red.
I’d glow blue instead.
There’s just one thing that’s still bugging me. “Who is ‘he’? Who built this body, then, if all the organics on the station are dead?”
Someone with a deep voice clears his throat behind me, and I’d swear it sounds human.
“I did.”
No … It can’t be. Not him. Anyone but him.
My blood—or I guess circulatory fluid—runs cold as I slowly turn around in my seat towards the voice and confirm the identity of the speaker.
PACU.