Brother Selys led him through the halls of the temple. Neither spoke. Coop let his HUD make a map of their progress. Brother Selys nodded genially at whomever they came across.
Eventually they came to a great hall, five times as tall as Coop and five times as wide as that, held up by massive columns at regular intervals, each of which connected with the ceiling in a great arc. An entryway, fully as tall and wide as the hall, let golden afternoon light flood the space. Varicolored mosaics crawled up the columns.
It was the first truly great room Coop had seen in the building. He didn’t know much about religion, but he suspected this was the sort of thing religious leaders had in mind when they uttered the word ‘temple’. People in monastic robes and plain dress shuffled about the big room quietly.
“How was this created?” Coop asked. He didn’t think the Voice of Gaia had access to the kind of machinery Coop could imagine creating such a place.
“You know, I never thought to ask,” said Brother Selys. He led Coop to the open air entryway. “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t put out the fire. May I ask why not?”
It took Coop a moment to remember the mission agenda:
* Rendezvous with Firefighters
* Proceed to Point of Ignition
* Extinguish Fire
“Winds weren’t right,” Coop said. It was coded correctly but vague enough he hoped Brother Selys would accept the explanation without question. Truth was twofold: he wanted what the Father had offered, and something about the way the man moved told Coop he might have lost that fight. The first was selfish, the second ridiculous, and both had lengthened the mission, none of which he felt like explaining to Brother Selys. And maybe he was all right with lengthening the mission. No one here seemed an imminent threat to the UPSF or its interests.
Brother Selys made a sound, but said nothing.
They emerged from the dry, dusty temple onto a bright plaza all carved from the same grey stone as the mountain. It was like a giant landing before the myriad, winding stairs leading down into the city. The stone here was more orange than red, lending to the golden light of afternoon. The space was empty but for Lieutenant Azor.
“Uncle Coop?”
His HUD blinked at him as she entered his visual range, and he was happy to see her little yellow dot on his display. She hurried across the plaza, and before he knew it she threw her arms around his middle.
Coop stiffened in shock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. He couldn’t remember ever being hugged. Even through his armored skin, it was a surprisingly comforting gesture.
Before Coop could react, Lieutenant Azor pulled back and looked up at him. He hadn’t realized how much smaller she was than him. He was two and a quarter meters tall. She was just over one and three quarters.
“Are you all right?”
Coop nodded. She seemed genuinely worried. He wondered if she was a better actor than he’d thought.
“Good.” She turned a glare on Brother Selys. “He’s the only family I have. You could have at least let me know you were taking him for an interview.”
Brother Selys put on his placid smile and raised his hands in defense. “You are absolutely correct, young lady. You have my sincerest apologies.” He looked from her to Coop, a slight question to his eyes. When neither answered, he cleared his throat and continued. “I take it you’ve been assigned quarters?”
Lieutenant Azor gave him a funny look, then nodded. “They gave us a flat on Fiddlestring Street.”
“That’s in the tinker district. Nice neighborhood. Solid buildings. In that case, I will bid you a farewell for now. Mr. Coop, why don’t you take a day to get settled in. I’ll tell Hunter Boro to contact with you first thing day after tomorrow.”
Coop let Lieutenant Azor lead him down from the temple plaza into the city. They made their way through five terraces. The buildings at the top terrace were the tallest and grandest but those on the bottom most, where the stone mountain ended and the earth-crusted turtle shell began, were by no means destitute. Even so, Coop suspected the Father aspired to a more egalitarian vision of the city than was realized. The buildings all had the same basic plan: stone-built on the ground floor, wood-built on the upper floors.
Lieutenant Azor seemed in a pensive mood, so Coop didn’t bother her as they wound through the city. Instead, he watched his HUD map their progress. He didn’t often watch the map as it was being built. Usually when he found himself in a new place he was focused on the hostiles. So he took small delight in watching the twisting streets sprout around his area display in the upper right corner of his vision. Each crossroads blooming upon his HUD like a flower, each street name like a budding berry.
He noticed Fiddlestring Street when they passed it. The name of the street unfolded upon his area map like the next chapter of a book. The line of the street snaked away to either side of them, as far as his HUD could detect.
Lieutenant Azor didn’t notice.
He didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts, so he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his attention to the buildings around him. Most of them had shops on the ground floor, everything from carpenters to blacksmiths, cobblers to tailors, brewers to leatherworkers. His attention was taken by a meticulous quilt in the window of a shop, patterned in blues and reds and purples in the shape of a great winged dragon.
Lieutenant Azor stopped, looked around, and said, “I think we’re lost.”
Coop gestured behind them. “Fiddlestring Street is that way.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
Coop noted the irritation in her tone.
He clasped his lower hands behind his back and let his upper stay loose at his side. He’d gotten along well enough with Lieutenant Azor so far, better than anyone he’d been assigned to for as long as he could remember. He hoped he hadn’t ruined it over something so small.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Lieutenant Azor clicked her tongue and sighed and gestured vaguely
Coop led the way back to Fiddlestring Street and stopped in the crossroads. Five streets wandered from this point.
Coop hadn’t seen any vehicles on the streets. They were likely to narrow to support a vehicle anyway. But people had begun to gather as the sun went down and the temperature dropped. Vendors hawked wares, neighbors gossiped, somewhere down Ingot-and-a’Half Street, someone played a guitar. The streets weren’t so narrow as to be claustrophobic, but if too many more people gathered in them, Coop would find himself uncomfortable. He kept his concern to himself and waited for Lieutenant Azor to figure out which way to go.
“Right. I recognize the bakery that way.”
They wound down the street, threading between people, until they came to the building across from the bakery. The bakery was called Tomlinson’s, and the building Lieutenant Azor approached was called Moontop Tower. It didn’t have a shop on the ground floor, and was entirely dedicated to apartments. It wasn’t that much taller than those around it, despite being named a tower. He supposed there might be some poetic or metaphoric significance.
The first floor of the building had a stone floor, the same stone as the street outside. But when Lieutenant Azor lead him to the flight of stairs, Coop stopped.
“These are made of wood.” He was used to the UPSF Excelsior, where everywhere he was expected to be our go was reinforced steel at the least. With his weight and lack of grace, a wrong step in a lumber-frame building could bring the whole thing down. Or so he feared.
Lieutenant Azor stopped halfway up the flight. “Ironwood. Harvested from an Ironoak heptapod. Fashioned by super pressurized water jets. You’re not the only cyborg staying here, Uncle Coop. In fact, the Peterson’s are just down the hall from us.”
Despite the assurance, Coop was careful to step lightly as they climbed three flights of stairs and walked down the hall. The floor creaked and he stopped, but Lieutenant Azor seemed unconcerned. After a few moments, he continued.
Their flat was simple, spare, and open. A kitchenette with a counter, sink, refrigerator, and oven stood in one corner and was open to the sitting room furnished only with a battered old couch and no sort of entertainment. A short hallway off the sitting room lead to a small bathroom with vanity, toilet, and shower. To either side of that were a pair of small bedrooms, identical except that one had a window.
Coop told Lieutenant Azor to take the one with the window. He knew most people liked being able to look out the window. The beds were simple wooden frame, box springs, mattress, and an assortment of sheets, pillows, and blankets. Coop wouldn’t use the bed. He was certain his body would tear up the sheets if not break the frame, so he told Lieutenant Azor to take his pillows if she needed more.
There were electrical outlets in the walls throughout the flat. But Coop doubted he could interface with them. Even if he could, he’d likely drain whatever passed for an electrical grid in this neighborhood.
He was still at 61% energy. Plenty.
Everything was clean and tidy, but simple. Just as he preferred.
Lieuteant Azor turned in early. Coop sat in his bedroom without a window and did nothing. Or at least tried to. His thoughts wandered.
He imagined he could feel his brain buzzing with electric pulses. He wondered what his brain was made of. Was it the original? Had it been supplemented with parts harvested from the beasts of Gaia IV? Had it been replaced entirely?
Stupid meat brain. Not enough memory. Slow recall. Far too delicate.
Dr. Ark had tinkered endlessly with building a crystalline computer. She’d said she wanted to replace her brain, to download her memories and experience into a crystalized nanomatrix that could store and recall with pulses of light. It was a discarded concept for the researches with the UPSF, but Dr. Ark had thought it possible after studying the brain of a Quietgaze simian.
Coop managed to keep from pacing around the room.
After years of research and experimentation, Dr. Ark had been successful. The crystalline computer was a ruby, about the size of a melon, and it’d gone missing after Dr. Ark had been killed. General Ashpholt had said the Father only rose to power after he’d found the ruby. Or so rumors told.
He should have asked the Father about.
“No. That’d be suspicious.”
Coop’s voice startled him from his wandering thoughts. A glance at the clock in his visual display told him it was only a few hours after midnight. With a grumble, he settled in and tried to while away the hours without thinking.
In the morning, Lieutenant Azor went off, ostensibly to see about a job in town that could use her “talents in prelaw”. Apparently the Father thought the UPSF might attack them through the legal system rather than militarily. Lieutenant Azor thought if she could get a job in legal circles, she could better determine the legal status of the Voice of Gaia and the Father in particular, clearing the way for Coop to complete his mission.
Coop continued to sit in his bedroom and do nothing but stave off boredom. He tried the games loaded in his HUD, but they continued to suck. He paced the length of the apartment, careful to keep his claws in and his hands clasped behind his back.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
When Lieutenant Azor returned, she had a box under her arm, a bag on her elbow, and a flush to her cheeks. “Hello, Uncle Coop. How was your day?” She set the bag on the counter by the sink in the kitchenette.
Coop grunted.
“My day was… interesting.” Lieutenant Azor sounded positively cheery. Coop was glad his face didn’t show expression because his would have been concerned. “I met with the Advocates of Shellback – that’s what they call this town, Shellback – and did you know the laws here guarantee fair representation in legal disputes? And a jury trial? No military tribunals here.” She pulled a wooden bowl from the bag and poured a small pile of fruit into it.
“Oh. I hope you don’t mind. They were just giving away the fresh fruit. I know you don’t eat, but I…”
She looked at him, suddenly uncertain.
Coop waved a hand from where he sat on the floor, back to the wall. “It’s fine.”
She smiled again. “Anyway. I thought the legal system here would be anarchy, but it’s actually quite robust and fair.”
“Did you get a job with them?”
“I did.” She quite nearly cheered. Right now I’m going to clerk, learn the way things are done here. But soon I could be a real advocate.”
Coop nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Lieutenant Azor carried the box to the corner of the room near where Coop sat. She set it on the floor, unclipped the latches and opened it to reveal a turntable. Coop was stunned. Of all the things he’d thought might be in the box, music wasn’t even on the list.
“Do you know what this is, Uncle Coop?”
“It’s a turntable. It plays records.”
“How do you know that?”
“I am very old.”
“How old?” She cocked her head at him and raised an eyebrow.
Coop shrugged. “You’ve seen my file more recently than I have.” He nodded at the turntable. “Where did you get it?”
“There’s all sorts of stores in the tinker district.” A pocket in the top half of the box held a single flat, cardboard sleeve. The cover showed a dark-skinned man in a somber suit. He had a knowing grin and a shiny brass trumpet. She withdrew it and looked from the square sleeve to the round turntable. Her brow creased in confusion. For a moment, Coop thought she might try to lay the sleeve upon the table. Eventually she looked at him and gestured with the record sleeve.
Coop looked at his hands briefly, spreading them. They were large, far larger than Lieutenant Azor’s, and well suited to wielding the instruments of combat. But he frequently found himself fumbling the instruments of the everyday. He didn’t want to handle the record and misjudge his strength. Carefully, he put his hands in his lap. He sat up a little straighter and felt his back pop in several places. He wondered what his vertebrae were made from.
“The record is in the sleeve. It’s probably made of vinyl and will scratch if you’re not careful. Slide it out.”
Lieutenant Azor followed his instruction with deliberate care. The record was shiny black with a round label in the center and a small hole at the center of that.
“Oh. That’s what the peg is for,” Lieutenant Azor said.
Between the two of them, they got the record in place, A-side up, and the needle on the record, but when Lieutenant Azor flipped the switch, nothing happened. She frowned and looked at Coop. Coop considered for several moments before his eyes lit upon a nearby electrical outlet in the wall.
He laughed. “You have to plug it in.”
The record player had an old-style three-pronged plug which, fortunately, fit the outlet. In Vesper, everything had a battery that was charged from another, bigger battery. The plugs were simple pegs and the jacks simple holes. The concept of an electrical outlet was foreign to Lieutenant Azor. With the machine plugged in, the table began to turn and a faint hiss emanated from the speakers built into the bottom of the box.
The music was something from another era, from another planet, before humanity had landed on Gaia IV.
It started with a light, melodic piano, playing up and down a scale and a half. Coop had just started understanding the rhythm of it when the deep strings of a plucked bass joined in, up a while, then down again. And before he could quite get a handle on how the two worked together, the shiny brass trumpet introduced itself, carrying the melody on its winding journey through a ‘scape surprisingly familiar.
Coop leaned back and let his head rest against the wall. He frequently forgot about the horns spaced around the crown of his head, just above brow level. Their placement meant he couldn’t lay flat. The horns would always cant his head at an awkward angle. But just then, he found it easy to balance the horn at the aft of his skull upon the wall.
Perhaps it was the music.
At some point, gentle percussion joined the song. Coop had missed its introduction. The music was jangly, bouncing along, and he’d have tapped his toes inside his boots if he could. Perhaps he was. He couldn’t tell.
The other instruments left off for a moment, allowing the deep, supportive bass strings a chance to shine in their deep, grinning way. And when the others came back, the trumpet was replaced by a voice. It was a deep voice, a little bit raspy, with a trembly vibrato on the long notes. It was like nothing Coop remember hearing, and yet felt familiar.
The UPSF had instituted a common language, strictly regulated, collecting the most efficient and specific words and phrases from a variety of languages that had since died out, at least on Gaia IV. The languages of humanity from before landing on the planet were largely the purview of experts on esoterica. So Coop didn’t know the words the man sang. But he felt them nonetheless.
He watched Lieutenant Azor shift from where she knelt in front of the turntable to suddenly sit hard on her backside. Her eyes were wide, her expressions stunned. Coop was certain she’d only ever heard UPSF approved marches before now.
He might have grinned.
The first ended and the next began. It was a dirge of sorts, but with that bright trumpet providing a gentle counter melody somewhere in the back. Lieutenant Azor wiped at her cheeks halfway through. The third picked up again, bouncy and driving, and Lieutenat Azor surged to her feet. She kicked off her shoes and bounced on her toes in her stockinged feet.
Suddenly she held out a hand to him. “Dance with me Uncle Coop?”
Coop would have grimaced. “I don’t dance.”
“Why not?”
“I’m clumsy. I fear for your feet, to say nothing of the floor, walls, and building in general.”
Lieutenant Azor laughed. She danced by herself. Military functions often had dancing of a sort. Regimented, practiced, precise movements in formal wear. It was beautiful in its way, but Lieutenant Azor was unbound. She swayed her hips to the bass, rocked her shoulders to the percussion, pumped her fists to the trumpet, and cavorted to the piano. She learned to improvise in the middle of their newly shared apartment while Coop watched.
He was surprised when the record ended. They both were. It was almost physically painful to see her look of disappointment.
“Turn it over,” Coop said.
She looked at him.
“There’s a side-B.”
They listened to the record three times that evening, and Coop lost track of time, immersed in the music. He wondered if this was what meditation as supposed to be.
• • •
“I might see if I can find another record disc,” Lieutenant Azor said. “When I’m done today. Do you want me to find you anything?”
“No.”
Coop took up the middle of the flat’s sitting room, moving through a routine of basic stretches modified for his four-armed form. The night had been thoughtless and restful. He was to meet with the hunters today and though he couldn’t rid his body of its perpetual ache, stretching often mitigated it.
“You sure? There were all kinds of records there. I think there were some old video monitors too. We could watch a film or play video games. You could take up a hobby. There’s a knitting shop around the corner. I think I saw a painting studio. A used book store…”
Coop stood up straight and gave her a flat look. Though, to be fair, a flat look was all he could give.
Lieutenant Azor raised her hands in defeat. “Never mind.”
They went downstairs to the front door together, Coop wincing as the wood creaked. But it held. Lieutenant Azor ate a yellow-green apple that was both crunchy and juicy. They stepped onto the stone street in the early dawn light. There weren’t many people around, but the lights in the bakery across the street were on. His HUD told him they were baking bread, but he couldn’t smell it.
Lieutenant Azor made an appreciative sound. “I wonder if they’ve got any doughnuts.” She hefted the half an apple she had left, as though measuring whether it’d get her through the day.
“Mr. Coop. Ms. Coop.”
They turned to find a young person in leather gear, a large-bore, bolt action rifle slung across their back. Coop’s HUD did not identify the weapon, so he assumed it was custom-made.
“I’m River. I’m supposed to take you to the aerie, Mr. Coop.”
Coop nodded and was about to follow when a thought struck him. He looked at Lieutenant Azor. “You said there was a bookshop?”
She blinked at him, then nodded.
“I… I had a friend. A while ago. She liked paperbacks. The games in my HUD are boring. I might like to try reading. If it’s no trouble.”
Lieutenant Azor grinned. “Sure thing, Uncle Coop.”
River was a lithe youth with a quickstep, and Coop lengthened his stride to keep up, unable to move along at his usual plod. He ignored the building ache in his hips.
They wound through the quiet streets of Shellback and climbed the six terraces to the temple plaza. Coop noted that River’s route was more efficient than Lieutenant Azor’s had been, that his HUD-built map had expanded.
They entered the grand hall of the temple, dim and cool and dusty. River lead him to the back of the hall and into a narrow, spiral stone staircase that wound tightly. The stairs were short, narrow, smooth and uneven. River trotted up them with ease of practice and youth. Coop couldn’t help but take the stairs several at a time, given his stride, but his shoulders brushed the wall on his right and the central support on his left. He had to keep his eyes on the stairs or risk stumbling. At some points he used his hands, almost climbing as the way got narrower and steeper. The repetitive length of it tensed at his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. He felt a familiar headache building behind his eyes.
When he broke through to the top, Coop took several long strides, put his knuckles at his lower back, and stretched as best he could. Then stretched his arms out wide, glad to be out of the narrow space.
He was in a broad, stone corridor, smooth and reinforced, obviously manufactured. River crouched by the wall to Coop’s left. He hopped up as Coop emerged then led the way down the corridor until they emerged several moments later into a great domed cavern. This space appeared to have formed naturally with pocket caves here and there and an arched exit onto a stone platform, not unlike the Father’s balcony, but uneven. Coop suspected this had been an aerie for the condors long before the inhabitants of Shellback had modified it.
Kitewing condors roosted throughout the aerie, some in pocket caves, some on the floor, some on wooden roosts built for them. They shifted and rustled and occasionally made a sound deep in their chests somewhere between a hoot, and a coo, and a warble. The large beasts has long, flexible necks, massive wingspans, and subtle color patterns in their plumage. Coop suspected there was a strong smell to the room. His HUD indicated a thick atmosphere.
Coop put his hands behind his back in an effort to make himself look smaller. He didn’t want any of the great birds to startle awake and see him as a threat.
“You been around the birds before, Mr. Coop?” River’s voice was low and quiet.
The air shifted outside and a gust of wind found its way through the aerie. It swirled around the domed cavern, rustling feathers. Coop didn’t feel it, but his HUD detected the drop in temperature and he could hear talons shifting, feathers brushing against each other.
“I’ve been around lots of different kinds of beasts,” Coop replied, pitching his voice to match River’s.
“I’ve been asked to show you the aerie. Not all hunters work condorback. We lost a few riders a while back. There was a storm. So. If you’re up to it. We could use a new condorider.”
Coop nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly, chest tingling, ready to fly again.
“I’ll show you where we keep the tack.”
They walked through the aerie to a side cavern tucked behind a natural fold in the wall. The side cavern was smooth and reinforced. It was meticulously carved, kept, and organized. Harnesses, straps, saddles, and bags worked from leather, rope, and canvas were stored carefully in cubbies and on racks. Coop’s senses detected a variety of chemicals in the air and he found a set of wooden shelves packed with thick glass bottles in which he suspected were medicines, ointments, lotions, and soaps for taking care of beasts and tack alike.
But his attention was taken by a beast curled in the center of the room.
River froze, putting out a hand to stop Coop.
The beast raised its head off its paws and flicked an ear at them. It was a feline of sorts but must have been at least meter tall at the shoulder and a meter and a half long not counting its tail.
It had a pair of lower tusks that branched twice, like three-point antlers. Thick leathery wings sprouted just after its front shoulders and a set of ridges ran down its spine. Its tail was long and sinuous, like a lizard’s, but flared in the last quarter like tail feathers, or an extra pair of wings. Its front feet were the talons of a raptor, shiny and pearlescent, three of them forward facing, one backward, like a kind of thumb. Its back feet were the velveted paws of a hunting cat. Coop was certain there were claws hidden between the toes.
Coop’s HUD examined the beast, labeled it an Antlertusk dragoncat, and marked it green, an ally. That was the second time in just a few days that his HUD had marked an ally when he hadn’t expected it. He wondered if the algorithm was bugged but knew he wouldn’t be able to plug into a UPSF charging station to correct it anytime soon.
Dragoncats didn’t typically get so large. They were usually the size of a domestic pet, though it would be unwise to try to keep one as such. Only the old ones got so big.
It got to its feet, stretched first its front legs, then its rear, then stretched its wings wide. Finally, it settled with a shake of its hips and folded its wings upon its back.
“Back up,” River said. “Slowly. We don’t want to be between him and the exit.”
Coop did as he was told, making way for the beast, who sauntered forward with the confidence of a creature who always got its way. They backed into the aerie and several meters on besides. But the dragoncat continued to walk toward them. It wasn’t stalking them, but not avoiding them either. Coop found his lower left hand tightening on the sheath of his sword, but she did not sing to him.
Coop stopped backing up and River, arm outstretched, bumped into him.
“We should…”
“Go ahead,” said Coop. “I think he wants to see me.”
River shrugged and continued retreating.
The dragoncat approached Coop, and looked up at him. His nose was black, with speckles of pink. His nostrils flared, then again, and suddenly the beast was nosing about Coop, taking in his scent, pushing his head under Coop’s arms and into his hips. The beast walked around the cyborg, rubbing his cheeks on Coop’s torso, nearly knocking him off his feet. For several moments, the dragoncat went on like this, sniffing and rubbing, until eventually he stood in front of Coop, went up on his hind legs, and wrapped his talons about Coop’s shoulders.
His HUD told him River tensed, but Coop felt oddly relaxed.
The dragon cat put his forehead against Coop’s and pushed gently. Coop felt himself chuckle. He curled his upper arms to put his hands on the beast’s shoulders, just before its wings, and pushed back.
The beast purred.
With a satisfied grunt, the dragoncat released Coop, dropped to all fours. He walked around Coop to the aerie landing. With a flick of his tail and a bit of a gallop, the beast spread its wings and took off.