Chapter 10
“You’re a talkative one, aren’t you,” said Paul to his new drone, Eights, as he finished climbing onto a rooftop. High above the wails of street flyers and noisy crowds, he could see the entire city and its lights glittering off the nearby river. More importantly, he had a good view of the Cathedral, which looked like pillars of light in the night sky. “Your creator certainly has an eccentric ideology on drone design.”
Eights hovered next to Paul, beeping and chirping at him with foul curses.
“Speaking of your creator, you will tell me all you know about that bracelet she wears,” Paul commanded.
Eights retorted with flatulent sputtering followed by more irate chirping.
That bracelet the dronesmith wore had an uncanny resemblance to the silver map. There appeared to be similar markings on it as well, but they were too small to properly make out. There was no doubt about it; the map had led Paul straight to that bracelet. He was certain of it. Perhaps the girl was somehow related to the next step in his journey. Until then, he directed his attention to convincing his new drone to obey.
“You won’t, will you? I can understand you, you know.”
Eight swiveled its spherical body quickly to look directly into Paul’s eyes, somehow looking surprised.
“I’ve dealt with drones such as yourself in the past. In time you will serve me. Because if you don’t-“ Paul began ominously, “-I will rip out your personality matrix and render you a hollow shell of your former self, then I will scrap you into a thousand tiny pieces and have you compressed down to a tiny cube.”
Eights recoiled and gave a low shivering hum.
Paul, of course, had no intentions of making well on his threats. He figured the compact drone would come in handy with its unique assortment of functions. Coming across such a finely crafted machine was rare, after all.
“Good…” Paul said coolly, “then we have an understanding. Now tell me, where did she get the bracelet?”
Eights replied in two quick twitters.
“You don’t know. Then what do you know about it?”
Again, Eights spat out two beeps.
“Nothing.”
Drones could lie, of course, and this one most likely had an affinity for it. If a drone needed to keep information secure, it could either be programmed to remain silent, outright lie, or taunt whoever might be trying to steal said information. Eights had been resistant, but there were ways to forcefully access its memory core. However, that would come later. Paul had a job for the little probe.
The Cathedral was still something of interest. The great towers woke tremendous curiosity within Paul; even if they did not look like a traditional military base, whatever secrets it may hold inside were well protected by the Amani royal navy. From the roof Paul was perched on, he could see the high walls and sentries surrounding the Cathedral through a pair of electro-scopes. In essence, the place was a fortress. Accessing what was inside would either require sneaking in, or bringing an entire army to bear. The view was limited, however. Snowy fog obscured what little could be seen being so far below the structure; the only way to get a better look would be to go trekking through the mountains. Eights came into play for this problem, its job was to go off and scan for potential hidden entryways, guard patrols, and any weak spots there might be in the defenses.
“Fly a half-mile perimeter around the structure so they don’t pick you up on their passive scanners, then…”
Eights abruptly zoomed past Paul, beeping and chirping excitedly.
“Shh…Eights not now!” came a loud whisper from behind a ventilation unit
“HEY,” Paul barked, raising his sidearm. “Show yourself!”
Pinkish blonde hair bobbed up and down indecisively until finally, the girl with glowing green eyes emerged.
“Um…hey again,” she said nervously.
“Little girl, I demand to know why you’re up here,” said Paul sternly, now lowering his weapon.
“Hey, I told you I’m not little! Er…did I say that? Well, I think I made it clear I don’t like being called little!”
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Eights chirped hotly in support of the girl.
“And, well, I kinda used Eight’s tracker to follow you two…and then I was going to steal him back, but you climbed up on the roof, so escape is improbable.”
Paul didn’t have time for this. The girl’s story seemed too ridiculous to be entirely true. It would have been easy enough to evoke his powers to determine if she was lying or not, but he was above invading the minds of children. All that mattered was that there was no threat. “I paid you well for this drone. Why do you want it back?”
“Him. Eights is a him,” the girl said as she hugged the little ball. “He’s my only friend. He was the first drone I ever built…I wasn’t really going to steal him. I was going to give the credits back.” She approached, and true to her word, she held out all two thousand credits.
Paul studied the girl quizzically. He had never met or even heard of anyone growing so attached to a drone before. “What’s your name?”
“Ramona…” she replied slowly, “what’s yours?”
“You may call me Paul.”
“It’s a pleasure,” she smiled brightly. “Now…can you please take your credits back?”
Credits were a minor consequence to Paul; he had more than enough to survive on his own for several years if need be. And it would be most dishonorable to swindle a little girl, even if she was backing out of the deal they made.
“Tell you what, Ramona: it seems that your drone will not listen to anyone except you, so you may keep the credits and the drone…” Ramona’s face lit up and she gasped loudly while clutching her companion, “…if you get him to do that job I need.”
Exploding with what could only be described as ear-piercing cheers, Ramona wore the most genuine smile on her now red face as she hugged her drone more vigorously than before. She hastily agreed to the terms with a series of nods.
The girl’s joy radiated in warm waves, which, to Paul, felt almost overwhelming. Briefly, it caught him off guard. Happy emotions could only be felt if a Progenitor actively used their powers, and to feel them without doing so was strange. The thought rolled in Paul's head only for a moment before he concluded that childlike naiveté could be that strong.
Dismissing the odd occurrence, Paul continued, “I simply need you to command your drone to scan the Cathedral.”
Ramona shrugged, not the least bit curious about why, or maybe she was just too happy to risk Paul changing his mind. “Eights, perform a five-hundred meter orbit around the Cathedral’s outermost walls. Scan in five-second bursts, then return here once you are done. Good?”
A series of excited beeps and twitters followed, and the probe drone raced off towards its target.
“You know your drones well,” Paul said, impressed. “The five-second bursts will make it harder to detect.”
“Him,” Ramona repeated, “and actually, he will be quite easy to detect. You see, Eights has an orbit speed of fifty kilometers an hour, which is the fastest he can go while using his scanning subsystems. That speed, distance, plus the bursts and Eights’ small size, will create interference to trick their computers into thinking he is actually much further away. Too far for the Amani to see him as a threat,” Ramona finished, sounding proud of herself.
Paul raised an eyebrow, fascinated with her knowledge.
“It’s a little trick I discovered while I was scouting around out at the Dune Hills. Anyways, this will take some time,” said Ramona as she took a seat, legs crossed atop a piece of roof machinery so that she was almost at eye level next to Paul. “So…nice gear you got here. Looks like a Tithan receiving pike, military-grade.” Ramona curiously eyed all the different gadgets that were laid out on the roof. The receiving pike, a tool to jam and receive transmissions, was a long stick with an antenna at the tip. “Oh, and what’s in that long strong box?”
“There’s another condition for our agreement,” Paul said, pulling her attention away. “You will also tell me all you know of that bracelet you have there.”
“My bracelet?” Ramona frowned as she examined the silver ring around her wrist. “Why are you so curious about this?”
“That is not your concern.”
Eyes still fixed on her wrist, Ramona replied, “I guess not…there’s not much to say about it, really. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. Apparently, my dad gave it to me when I was a baby. Do you know something about this thing?”
For a long moment, Paul considered the girl. She was proving to be trustworthy enough, and it did not seem that there was any harm in indulging her questions with the truth. Without a word, Paul reached into his pack and slipped out the rectangular map. “Forgive me.” He seized Ramona’s wrist and compared the two objects side by side. Etched on the side of the bracelet was the hand, mountain, star, the calligraphy— the symbols were identical to the map’s.
“Whoa…” was all Ramona could muster.
Heart racing ever so slightly from his latest revelation, Paul released his grip and spoke methodically. “Interesting indeed, but you know nothing more. Are you sure?”
“I’m sorry…I really don’t.”
Just a minor setback, Paul thought. His mind was filled with theories and questions of what to do next, but he found himself indisputably stumped.
“But I know someone who might,” Ramona said, perking up with a smile. She must have seen Paul’s reaction as well which made her smile all the more. “My mother will know more. I mean, I assume she does since she knew my father and all. We don’t really talk about him, so this never came up before, but I bet she would tell you all about him.”
“I will reward you and your mother handsomely for any information you two can provide.”
“About that…” Ramona chortled, “please don’t bribe my mom. She would be so embarrassed that you would feel ashamed about yourself. Plus-“ she waved the credit chips worth two thousand through the air, “-we’re set for the rest of the year thanks to you already...er, but let’s not tell my mother about that.”
“Perhaps a meeting can be arranged then.”
“Yeah, sure, a meeting. How about we just call it dinner? You can come back to my home; I live above the drone shop. With the credits you gave us, my mother will be able to make something besides bread.” The young girl’s gaze drifted away at the thought of a nicely cooked meal.
Paul, however, felt this was a bad idea. Never before, in his twenty years as a Lord Progenitor of the Tuyet Voi, had he ever been invited over for dinner.