Andrew stood in his kitchen watching as a giant mechanized spider stomped its way down the block, chasing a squad of Eblouir’s policy elites.
A part of Andrew watched with cold detachment. Merely wanting to see if the police officers would be able to get away, or if the Stygian mech would catch up to them. The rest of him just sighed, and shook their heads, overruling the first part and trying to figure out a way to save the people below without causing themselves too much trouble.
Andrew turned to Sophia. The pale woman just smiled, seeming to know what he was going to say before he said it.
“I’ll have one of my not-duplicates call them in.” said Sophia.
Andrew didn’t ask what the not-duplicates were. He’d already seen the slightly altered bodies Sophia had running around pretending to be other people. It seemed that after pretending to be him for a few days, she’d seen the utility in having extra bodies running around that didn’t look like her.
Sophia had upgraded her mental network using some of the energy she’d gathered from early versions of her half of the root system the two of them were building together. Sophia’s expanded hivemind was then modified and granted an enhanced modularity that allowed her to operate multiple instances of herself without exhaustion.
Thus the Luce family gained a whole bunch of new members. There was now a Luce main branch, and a Lux family, which served as the Luce clan’s branch. “Sophia” was still an only child, but she now had a very large extended family, whose members were now appearing out of the woodwork.
While she was at it, Sophia had also created a number of AI-driven drones and placed them in humanoid chassis to have them serve as servant staff.
Andrew thought his partner was just a tad too meticulous and hardworking, but felt a deep pride thinking of how those virtues would affect her future endeavors.
Sophia, on the other hand, was embarrassed to see what she’d done after a mere three days separation from her Hoheit, and would rather die than admit that her actions had been based on loneliness and boredom rather than any other grand purpose.
Though expanding her network and making changes to it that would allow her to be more flexible and enduring in its use were likely to be good things in the end. Sophia would never be able to look at her suit-wearing, silver-faced, servitor units, and her new ‘family’ without feeling a twinge of shamefulness.
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Meanwhile, on the broken and scorched roads outside, Sergeant Miller, of Eblouir’s Tactical Security Force, and his merry men road for their lives as one of the Stygians titan-roaches tried to squash them.
“Sarge, I don’t think we’re gonna make it!” said the panicked voice of one of Miller’s men.
“Pish posh, corporal. We just need to keep driving and look for cover.” said Miller. Filling his voice with false cheer and as much confidence as he could muster, while keeping an eye on the monster that was slowly catching up to their armored personnel carrier.
Miller had one of his men sitting in the gunner seat firing round after round into the massive, mechanized, insects face. The creature and its pilot weren’t flinching at all. Simply ignoring the turret rounds because they weren’t leaving so much as a scratch on the mech’s carapace.
Miller kept his smile while grinding his teeth. Cold sweat ran down his brow, and he began to wonder if it was time to think about his plan B. He figured the enchantments and tech in his people’s body armor were pretty solid.
He could take over driving. He’d take APC into the rubble, where they’d have a little more cover, and he’d order the brave men and women who were serving beneath him, to duck and roll, out of the vehicle while he lead the metal bug away from them.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Just as Sergeant Miller was about to put his plan into motion, a voice came over the vehicle’s comm unit. It was a male voice, light, crisp, and very posh, like the high imperials of old.
“Pardon...What was that saying again? Ah, yes...Do... you... copy?” said the speaker.
“I copy. Now, who the hell is this? How did you get on this channel?” said Miller. Picking up the comm-unit’s mike so he could speak clearly despite the explosion echoing around them and the roar of the APC’s motor.
“Excellent. I am one of the Servitor-units of the August house of Luce. I’ve been ordered to extend an invitation? Will you be attending?” said the Speaker.
“Wha-...Look, buddy. I’m not in the mood for jokes here. Who are you and how are you on this channel? This is an emergency channel for city and military personnel only...so I’m gonna have to ask you to stop messing ar-...”
“Sir, look to your right. My mistress has ordered me to open the doors for you, but I’m loath to do so for too long. Now, will you be joining us or not?”
Miller frowned, wanting to argue with the stranger more, but in the end, he relented and saw that on the opposite side of the freeway they were driving along, there was indeed a structure. A sky-scraper, so tall and prominent, Miller could only gape. His train of thought derailing explosively as he wondered how on earth the ostentatious tower had managed to remain standing while the rest of the world was busy crumbling down.
Sergeant Miller had a thought, and then he nodded to himself and slapped his driver on the back.
“Hook a right! Do it now, while we still have enough leeway to get away with it!”
“Huh? Wh-, What the hell?!” said the driver. Miller frowned for a moment, wondering if his man had finally lost his nerve. Then Miller realized the other officer was simply reacting to the sudden appearance of the tower.
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Two minutes of tense, frankly reckless, driving, later and the group of swat officers were inside the building.
The titan-roach chased them all the way to the entrance, and for a moment, Miller thought all was lost, but then the next moment he saw a massive appendage, made of crystal and brick, emerge from the building and swat the bug. Crushing it with such force that had the doors not sealed themselves in that moment they might have been injured by the resulting shockwave.
Miller and his men found themselves in a brightly lit garage filled with a number of strange vehicles. They were guided by holographic arrows that somehow appeared within the sprites. Ushering them into the building proper.
Miller and his people found themselves in a large lobby. A space that might have seemed ritzy and high class if it weren’t for the thousands of refugees milling around inside.
“...The hell?” said Miller. Looking around at the sea of faces each of them carrying some mixture of anxiety, fear, and boredom.
“Ervine Miller?” said a very familiar voice.
Sergeant Miller turned around and saw a tall, humanoid being, in a crisp black suit standing behind him and his men. He looked around and saw several similar looking, if not entirely identical, beings moving amongst the crowd.
“Er...Yeah?”
“Would you and your men like to be shown to your quarters first, or would you prefer I bring you to the group of ladies and gentleman of status that have taken fifth-floor lounge as a sort of emergency meeting room.”
Miller hesitated and then looked at the men and women who were trailing behind him. All of them looking, beat-up, run-down, and dead on their feet.
“Uh, would it be possible for you to have my boys shown to their rooms, while I go see this club of high-and-mighties?” said Miller.
“Of course, sir.”
Another silver-faced machine-man appeared.
“If you’d kindly follow me, dear officers.” said the new machine-man.
Miller nodded towards his men as they looked to him for reassurance.
“At ease, men. Go take a load off...Maybe scope this place out once you’ve got the wind back in your sails. I’ll go see what the leaders of this place have to say.” said Miller.
Millar’s men nodded. Each man and woman in the six-man squad managing a salute before tiredly trailing after the silver-faced servitor.
Miller followed his own servitor. His practiced eyes read the room and he found that there was less panic in the air than he’d originally read. Most of the faces he saw were washed, and well-fed. No one was content but no one was wanting either.
They passed through the hall and reached an elevator. Miller recognized the model it was one of the fancier types that could go from being opaque metal, to being translucent and clearer than glass.
The servitor left the elevator on its glass mode and Miller took note of the various floors they went through noting that each floor had a high number of people but besides the ground floor where he now understood was the area where people waited to see if a familiar face emerged from amongst the newcomers, none seemed overly packed.
Miller saw families gathering together to discuss plans for what to make with the remains of their shattered lives. He saw children playing, not entirely oblivious to the crisis around them, but trying their best to stay out of their parents’ way and make the best of things anyway. He saw people arguing on their sprites with insurance agents, the imperial bureaucracy, and their off-world family.
Miller realized that he’d probably underestimated how many people the building was sheltering. Just for curiosity’s sake, he said,
“How many rooms does this place have again?”
“As many rooms as the building needs, sir.” said the servitor.
“And how many is that currently?” said Miller.
“At the moment, that’s 521,391 rooms and suites, sir.” said the servitor.
Miller just whistled. Feeling a sense of relief and grief. Relief at hearing that so many of the Eblouir’s citizens had survived the Stygian assault. Grief at the many others who’d died because as far as he knew this was likely the only shelter with that kind of capacity, or durability.