Chapter Twelve
A Flower in the Desert
Morning came, along with a holographic message saying Zephyron was away in the next territory over. The older Soturi from the other day had requested assistance. Zephyron's words replayed in my head. "...duty commands me, but respect demands a visit."
Got it. Like what I didn't show to a Soturi a-hole. Fine. More time to play tour guide.
"Wow," Parker blurted as he waved at the ochre and grey-furred Sandari who had overseen my Omegafication.
Tessith—short and close to my height—stood cloaked in flowing amber robes, layered with brass medallions and copper trim that clinked softly as he moved.
He had been dressing nicely lately, maybe wanting to stand out for Parker's documentary.
His long, narrow snout twitched once, and large, steady amber-gold eyes locked onto me before he bowed stiffly and flattened his ears.
Without a word, he turned and walked away.
"A real alien," Parker whispered to his camera-drone with chrome trim and comically aggressive fins on either side, like someone crossed a surveillance bot with a '70s muscle car.
It even had a little faux grill and circular headlights.
I'm sure he gave it a little horn and would honk it if asked.
He jerked his thumb. "You like it, don't you? "
"Yeah, it's really nice, Hon."
"Thanks! Now, tell me you can get me an interview with, uh..."
"Tessith? Yeah, it should be fine."
Parker's manic energy radiated as we strolled through the palace's sandstone corridors. "So, the Big Guy? He's okay with you and me?"
"Want the truth?"
"Always."
"He said," my voice lowered, "'I do not consider Parker of Earth a threat. You may interact with him.'"
"Okay..."
"To him, you're outside the usual categories, something between a Dara and a Femeni. So, no protocol violations or reason for concern."
"Geez. I did ask." If he was insulted, he kept it to himself as he spun slowly. "Anyway, this place is intense. You know, in an alien royalty meets desert post-apocalyptic chic."
"I guess you could say that, since the Sandari ruined their world. This planet used to be a lot greener." And have water.
We stepped into a larger chamber where the walls glowed faintly with embedded crystals of different colors. Parker slowed his pace and listened to the faint, almost musical hum emanating from them. "Technology and not simple jewels." It wasn't a question.
My implant filled in the details. "The green ones are storage for legal and historical archives. One-time data writing and they last for centuries. Reds are for Sims and long-term data, but not for centuries. Blues help with computer speed."
His eyebrow rose. "The orange ones?"
"Encrypted messages."
"Is there a need for that here?"
"No, not really." At least I didn't think so.
He nodded, then swiped in the air, pulling up holographic notes on the Sandari outdoor marketplaces, a place translated as 'Shifting Sands' and a spot with green vegetation.
Why didn't Zephyron tell me?
"Man, this is the setting that makes your brain pop, and here you are, living it."
"Living might be a strong word," I muttered.
He stopped and waved away the camera. "Hey," his tone grew softer. "You doing okay?"
Of all the people to spill my guts to, Parker and his flying recorder weren't at the top. Brandon's issues with the paparazzi, as well as reporters storming my LA home, made me wary. Yet, there weren't any other Humans here.
"Not really," I admitted. "I mean, it's not like I expected this to be easy, but..."
"It's a lot." For a moment, we stood there in silence, then he smiled with a lopsided grin. "Well, if it helps, you're handling it better than I would. I'd be in a corner somewhere, rocking back and forth."
I snorted. "Yeah, sure."
"No, seriously. Look at you. You're dealing with all this alien stuff, and I mean alien with a capital A. You're basically ordered to carry a child after cellular conversion. That's something."
I mumbled a thanks and hoped it sounded sincere. After more walking, I revealed what Brandon had said about him.
"Yeah, it's all true, and thanks big time for letting me come.
I mean it. Your buddy's got his whole 'Hollywood star turned intergalactic diplomat' thing, which is great.
Maurice is the face of two of the biggest shows on Earth, and he's got theater respect again.
Cindy lives for this chaos, and she's practically swimming in A-List clients both in and out of Hollywood.
Even Ryan's enjoying running a mega-corporation with Alen's Volardi tech or was.
Heard he might be doing something else these days. "
"And you?" I asked softly.
"I'm the guy who was there. I wrote a script for a children's show that got canceled early. If an alien probe didn't catch Brandon's old show and Alen didn't get starstruck, I'd be another nobody."
"Parker..."
He held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for this opportunity, and I'm actually on another planet. I want to do something that matters, besides writing 'Fade in.'"
I couldn't argue since I had my own plans before Sudo. We soon reached the end of the sandstone corridor with a guarded chamber. Two familiar and featureless, white humanoid Simulacrums stood guard.
"Hello again!" He waved, and in unison they repeated the gesture exactly as Parker had done.
He turned to me and whispered, "I still can't get them to say much except parrot me. I thought Sudo robots were lifelike."
"Simulacrum!" I corrected. "Volardi craftsmen and some models get offended if you say robot. The ones Westmore mentioned to me are specialized. These are new and without an AI personality dump. So they protect and do manual labor like uh... dig."
Graves, that is.
"Anything else?"
I gave the command, and one Simulacrum morphed into Parker, with his slim build and swept-back, salt-and-pepper hair. A short, dark beard framed a face that looked late forties despite Parker's older actual age.
"Well, that's different," he said. "Still creepy."
"Still creepy," said one in a monotone and mimicked my friend's forward stance, and then again when he jumped back as a test.
My voice lowered, "They were going to get more long-term personality programming, but the Emperor ordered Zephyron to Earth, and well, you know."
I pictured my dad slumped on the asphalt again. That memory returned more than once lately.
He paused. "What if we were to finish the job?"
"They do everything they're supposed to do."
"They're functional, yes." He rubbed his chin in thought. "But they're just props. If we want Humans and Volardi to care, we need charm. Something to hook the viewers back home."
"Charming Simulacrums. Got it," I muttered.
"Didn't Westmore and Alen say the Volardi love pop culture?" he asked.
"Affirmative. Our creators enjoy Earth's cultural content," they replied in sync.
Parker turned back to me. "What happens if they don't get a personality installed?"
My implant gave me the information. "Oh! They imprint on whoever's around them. I don't use them much, but... they seem to like you." My eyes narrowed. "Wait. What did you do last night?"
"Well, we stayed up because of—"
The rest of the answer came, but not from him. "Jet, uh, space lag," one of them stammered, in Parker's exact tone.
I inhaled fast. "They've started imprinting on you."
"Really?" His grin grew. "It's like I'm a Mama Sim."
I adore Parker, but I wasn't sure the galaxy or my sanity could handle him in triplicate. "They're going to absorb more of your essence, unless we do something."
"Fine. You don't want more of me, and that's your loss, but we could give them other personalities."
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Not a good idea, or do you have to ask permission?"
"I can decide things for myself, thank you very much."
"Then de-cide," he drew out.
"I know what you're doing, and you're not manipulating me."
Yet, Zephyron was gone, and the Volardi had weird issues about approaching someone's Omega or Femeni. So, no chatting with Soturi or Daras in the palace. The Sandari didn't really stay here except for Tessith.
I queried my implant, checking if anything bad would happen. No matter how I asked, all indications pointed to it being okay, even desirable. Otherwise, they might imprint on the wrong person and copy their traits.
He read my face and smiled.
"Thanks, and I get to do it."
"Why not me?"
"Because I have a vision and I know you. You'll make them into sexy gym-rat himbos."
"Hey! I appreciate the male form."
He waited for me to give the go-ahead to the palace AI.
Should I?
The Volardi attached strings to everything, even if it would cost them nothing to help. After cellular conversion, was I more Volardi or Human? "Fine. Just don't mess this up, please."
He saluted. "Wouldn't dream of it, Captain. I'm thinking long-term with this. Documentary sizzle, Human-Volardi relations. Everything! Trust me! You'll love it."
Once I gave the official permission, he moved to the chamber's far side. He whispered personality traits and lowered his voice when I came close. A soft hum filled the air, and the Sims' blank faces and smooth frames rippled like liquid.
He stepped back, grinning as metallic nanites covered a red memory crystal on each head. "And... done."
The first approached, its frame reforming into a shorter, blockier build.
New black joints contrasted against a white armored shell.
The newly sculpted face was rigid, angular, and scowling with narrow black eyes that had the aura of a disapproving school principal.
Its deep, clipped, and no-nonsense voice came out, "Greetings, Thomas of Earth.
I am Axios. Efficiency is my directive."
I blinked. "Uh... hi?"
The second Simulacrum unfolded beside him as if coming out of a nap.
This one was taller and slender with long, graceful limbs.
The stylized white face reminded me of a comedy theatrical mask.
Its mouth curled into a cheerful smile, and the voice sparkled with melody and flair, "Ah, Thomas!
A pleasure to meet you at last. I am Solis, your ever-enthusiastic assistant in all things delightful. "
They were nothing alike now. Solis was tall and animated, while Axios had a squat and sedentary look. The new visible servos and pistons made them look distinctly robotic.
I stared at them, my brain struggling to catch up. "Parker, what did you do?"
He beamed as if watching two children take their first steps. "I gave them personality, and you're welcome."
Axios turned its head sharply, its movements precise. "Indeed! Personality integration was successful. Operational efficiency remains optimal."
"See?" Parker said and gestured to the smaller Sim, "Totally fine."
Solis clapped its hands together, fluid and Human-like. "Oh, this is marvelous! So many things to explore, and tasks to assist with! Thomas, you and I are going to have such fun!"
I groaned.
Parker's eyebrows pinched. "You don't want them to change back, do you?"
Axios lifted a finger in the air as if a college professor. "I'm afraid, well, for you of course, that is quite impossible. The new directives were written on a red Volardi data crystal. Do you know its significance?"
I knew, but the implant still gave me the news. The red memory crystals were rare. Unlike longer-use green archives, these weren't just data banks, but mineral minds. Once written on, they couldn't be erased. Only added to, and the base personality would always be there unless destroyed.
Parker let out an 'Oh' as I explained. "Well, they're way more interesting now, right?"
Axios faced me, its black eyes unblinking. "Thomas, I assure you, my efficiency has not been compromised. All tasks will be performed with utmost precision."
Solis stepped closer, its, or her I suppose, metallic face further animated. "And I shall ensure every task is executed with flair! Oh, the adventures we'll have!"
As if she personally promised, a whistling alarm cut through the hallway. The sound ricocheted off the walls, and both robots straightened immediately at attention.
"What is that?" asked Parker.
Axios responded instantly, "A standard Level Three Emergency Alert. Protocol dictates it must be addressed without delay."
Solis cocked her head. "Oh, dear!"
The palace AI's calm, disembodied voice filled the room. "Zephyron is unavailable. Emergency routed to intended Femeni-Omega mate. Authority to attend to emergencies granted by standard Volardi law."
"What? Me?"
"Yes, you," Axios said sharply.
A translucent hologram grew in the hallway, showing two short Sandari males with their yellowish-brown fur and large, foxlike ears pointed high. One seemed older with a lighter, almost grey color. Their faces showed a mix of urgency and exhaustion as they looked directly into the projection.
The younger Sandari stepped forward in a flowing desert robe decorated with intricate patterns. "Mate of Zephyron," the Sandari said.
My voice deepened, "This is Thomas. Uh, what's the situation?"
The older, lighter-furred Sandari said, "An emergency well, dug to supply irrigation for this cycle's bloom, collapsed. The excavators breached a hidden cavern laced with fungal growths. The spores are potent and even trace amounts poison water."
This already sounds bad.
"It now connects to a wider underground network," he added.
The Palace AI displayed a glowing, root-like overlay of subsurface rivers spiderwebbing beneath the region. Why didn't Zephyron tell me about the water?
"The contamination travels faster than our swiftest warriors."
A chill crept over me, despite the dry heat curling in the air. "Okay, it's poisoned. I'll tell Zephyron. I'm sure he can purify it or—"
"We don't have time," the elder Sandari said. "The Heat Thistle has already begun to bloom. If we miss this cycle, our food supply vanishes."
"If the bloom falls," the younger added quietly, "so do we."
***