Before she handed over access, Khadam hardcoded two rules into the printers:
No weapons. And no duplicating printers.
In a few centuries, perhaps the avians would figure out how to break the rules, but at least this would give them time to learn responsibility. A molecular printer is a powerful device, and irresponsibly use had unfathomable consequences.
You would know, she thought.
But there was something about the Queen of the avians that made her feel like it would be alright. Already, there were assembly factories set up around the printers, twelve in each part of the city, and another twenty stored somewhere in the Queen’s personal vaults. Better bricks, better metals, and materials unimaginable to them only a few weeks ago now poured out of the factories.
Oh, and the constructs. Those would outnumber the people here, soon enough. If they did it right, if they were careful and kind, this whole world would become a paradise.
The Cauldron was already changing. The Highcity and the Palace that hung on the cliffs overlooking the Cauldron were mostly untouched, but Lowtown was unrecognizable. The Queen had sent one of her governors, an older corvani by the name of Horace, to supervise its reconstruction.
Now, thousands of constructs were hauling bricks and stirring concrete in the streets. Planting new light poles, and stringing wires across the rising apartment blocks and towers and vertical warehouses that the avians so dearly loved. Redenites supervised, outlined blueprints for new buildings, and helped reshape the burned out remains of the city. Machines with wheels, machines with plows, machines to carry machines. Even new governor machines, little more than spider walkers with long, flexible antennae clustered on their oddly shaped heads, marched through the streets, keeping the sweepers and cleaning bots coordinated.
They preserved what they ruined buildings they could, as landmarks to the way Lowtown had been. “Horace says they’d want it that way,” Ryke explained.
In the skies above, between the floating rigs and the wheeling avians, there were black specks of hovering drones.
She hoped the avians would make good use of it all. She hoped they would take their time. She hoped they would build their economy for centuries, before they ever considered building a military. She had given them the gift of technological superiority, which often lead to war.
But perhaps, these xenos who had come so close to extinction would make fairer use of their newfound tech.
She doubted that last, but it was out of her hands now. They had their work cut out for them. And so do I.
Khadam’s new exoskeleton stood tall, a moving statue made of heavy machinery. The Queen was tall enough to look her in the eye, but tribune Kirine - who had been so helpful with his details on the Emperor these last weeks - had to look up at her.
And, of course, the destroyer’s servant was there. Khadam would do away with Laykis, if she could. Didn’t like how the android was always watching her, silently. A constant reminder of what needed to be done, and all the obstacles still in her way. Even now, as Khadam slipped her newly-forged helmet over her head, feeling the hard metal interlock with the rest of her armor - specially made for this one trip - the android gave no sign of what she was thinking.
“Any last words?” Khadam asked.
“I said mine a long time ago,” Laykis answered.
Cryptic as always. Like no machine should be. Normal constructs bounced and bubbled, overjoyed to answer any question you threw at them. But this one was always so serious with Khadam.
“That may be,” Khadam said. “But now's your chance to say new ones.”
“Fine,” Laykis answered. “My last words on Gaiam will be to beg you, once more, to abandon this quest.”
“Not a chance.”
“If you would but go to the black library, you would see-”
“Not a chance,” Khadam enunciated slowly.
“Divinity,” Ryke croaked anxiously, “Laykis saved your life. What more must she do to prove that she is on your side? Look at how she looks at you. She worships you.”
Khadam shook her head. The avian Queen still didn’t understand - none of them did. Machines were made to serve humans, it was in her code to save Khadam. That didn’t mean Laykis was her friend. “The only thing I need from her is guidance to the Emperor.”
“And protection from him,” Kirine offered, “Though I would strongly caution against provoking him.”
Khadam shrugged, all the motorized plates of armor shrugging with her, “That’s not entirely up to me, is it?”
“Divine One, if I may,” Kirine bowed deeply, the hems of his new suit sweeping back, pulling tight over his old soldier’s build. He had earned his place among the citizens of Gaiam, helping to assimilate the cyrans and other xenos who had become stranded here since the Queen took back her city. Not to mention all the information he had spilled. In him, Khadam saw a person who wanted to climb the ranks, without stepping on the heads of those less fortunate than him. From all the horrifying stories Khadam had heard of the cyrans and their occupation of the Cauldron, that made him something of an outlier among his kind.
“The Emperor is undefeated. In both war, and diplomacy. He has more practice than anyone knows. If I were you, I would do anything I could to avoid making him my enemy.”
“Relax,” Khadam said, casually shrugging her newly armed and armored arms, the exoskeleton’s motors whirring quietly as the thick plates slid over each other, “We’re just going to talk.”
“I see,” Kirine said doubtfully. His jaw set, firm.
“I have thought of new ones,” Laykis said.
“What?”
“My new ‘last words,’ as they are.”
Khadam furrowed her brow at Laykis. Every time the android opened her vocal comms, Khadam thought she understood her a little less. “Okay, let’s hear them.”
“I have enjoyed many parts of being alive. If I am to die, again, I will be honored to do so in your service, Divine One. There, was that fitting?”
You mean in his service, Khadam thought.
But it was getting harder and harder to believe that the android was conniving against her. Laykis had a hand to her new metal chassis, a slender, segmented body with flexible joints and a healthy lacing of sentium alloy, allowing for numerous hidden compartments full of weaponry. Nothing special, just a few ballistics and other surprises, just in case.
Though Khadam had rebuilt Laykis’s body with her own two hands, she still couldn’t grasp what made the android tick.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
She could almost feel the android’s genuine reverence, in the way she looked at Khadam. She clenched her jaw, wondering for the thousandth time, what on old Earth she was supposed to make of this being. The destroyer’s own servant. Sent to serve.
You know I have to kill him. And yet, you gave your life to save mine.
Not even Finder had done that.
“Laykis,” Ryke stepped forward, throwing her wings around the android, wrapping her in a feathery embrace, “Come back. In one piece, this time.”
“I cannot promise that.”
“Well,” Khadam stretched her arms over her head, and all the motors and metal sang together. Despite the thick layers of plate, electromagnetic shielding, and heavy machinery weighing down her body, the motors made her feel light as air. Both her exosleeves hummed to life as she tested them, one last time. “If it does come to violence, I promise we’ll go out in a blaze of glory.”
She meant it to be a light-hearted jest, but Kirine pursed his scaled lips, and the Queen hummed her dissatisfaction through her beak.
“Please be careful, Divine One. The Emperor’s past is legendary.”
Her hands hummed, and she could feel the warming vibrations running under her forearms, up to her wrists as she warmed up her newest defenses. If she had had this power back on that nameless world, Khadam would have caught up to Poire by now. Easily.
“I have spent far too much time here,” Khadam said. “Besides, if I’m right, I know exactly how to deal with the Emperor.”
“And if you’re not?”
How could she explain to them about the Emperor? About what he must be? Nothing more than an AI, masquerading as a man. Judging by the way these people worshiped her, it wouldn’t be so hard to keep up the charade for so long. What did they say? A thousand years?
The avians spoke of him as if he was a god, and even Kirine spoke with reverent fear of the being who ruled the Cyran Empire.
Most likely, the walking husk of an augmented human, embedded with an AI that corrupted over the ages. That might explain the similarities to ancient Earth’s civilizations.
Still, a few questions lingered in Khadam’s mind. How had he managed to avoid the notice of the Swarm? The Sovereign was always searching for signs of Light. And if the Emperor was opening gates, he must be generating Light somehow.
Either that, or he’s sitting on a massive stockpile somewhere.
And why bother creating an empire of xenos anyway? Probably, she thought, the two questions were connected.
In any case, Khadam was ready for anything. The last few weeks (or was it months now?), she had tinkered away in her workshop. The priests had learned to leave her alone, and only Ryke and Kirine kept her company, along with a few of her favorite Redenites who shared her affinity for machine work. All the while, the light catchers had been siphoning the off-gassed Light every time the gate opened.
When she finally emerged, she wore an exosuit riddled with weapons for every possibility. There was nothing elegant about it.
In case the Emperor sent organic weapons after her, armies of cyrans or the strength of his own body, she was ready. The inner layers of her exosuit were chained at a microscopic level, and would protect against all but the most specialized projectile. Every appendage was motorized for extra strength. She could crack stone with her hands. Or, simply slice through it, with the wrist charges on her exosleeves. If it came to hand-combat, the multifaceted fingers of the sleeves would liquify into any killing implement she could think of.
Small beam weapons littered the outer layers of her armor, and two large ones - fed by Light-fueled batteries - sat on her shoulders. She could control their targeting with her thoughts, or simply let them auto-fire, if it came to that. On her upper back, twin limbs would unfold to reveal a set of repulsors. Wings, inspired by the avians. Something about being near them had inspired her, reminded her of the joy of unhindered flight.
Not to mention the missiles pocketed in her bike, and the satchels of pebble-sized drones that hung from her hips. And the new additions she had made to Laykis’s body armor.
All of this was nothing compared to the electronic countermeasures laced through every inch of her armor. The outer armor of her exosuit was a mess of irregular, angular planes designed to bounce back any EM pulses or beams or aerisnet-sent packets the Emperor might have at the ready. There were, admittedly, a few gaps around the more mobile pieces of her armor, but the reflective coating would more than make up for it.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t need such aggressive defenses. If the AI that called itself Emperor didn’t comply (and if her override commands failed), she intended to get the first strike in. The key was her new hover bike, embedded with an arsenal of directed-energy weapons that were strong enough to fry the internal electronics of a ship the size of a city. Twin shrouds should render the bike untargetable, if not entirely invisible, to any machine - nanite or otherwise.
Last, there was the cube that fit in the palm of her hand. When the Oracle found out what she was making, a kind of dead man’s switch, it had nearly lost its mind begging her to please get that thing away from me.
She hoped she wouldn’t have to use this last tool, a trick she had learned from Rodeiro himself as a way to defend against the Swarm. It would be a shame to activate it, but better to be absolutely certain of her safety, than to worry about the lives of every construct within the blast radius.
Yeah, maybe it was overkill. Maybe she had gone a little crazy on the engineering. But she had to be certain. A hundred percent, Khadam. No fractions.
Everything depends on you.
“What if you’re wrong about him?” Kirine asked again. They were all staring at her intently.
And Khadam could only shrug. She had done all she could. “Like I said, I’m only going over there to talk.”
“Then, for all our sakes, I hope you find conversation with the Emperor fruitful.” He bowed once more.
She did too. She had to know why, in the name of all humanity, the Emperor had let the Herald of Ruin slip through his fingertips. It didn’t matter how corrupt his cores were, even the Swarm itself knew the cost. All AIs did. All humanity…
All existence.
How could the Emperor have forgotten?
Or maybe, he’s one of those non-believers, she thought, wrinkling her nose with disdain.
Her bike was already hovering on the gate’s disc. There was nothing else to wait for. But still, she didn’t move.
Khadam had never been particularly sentimental. Maybe it was because the last time she said “goodbye” to someone, she had gone to sleep and woken up to find everything broken. Everyone, gone.
The sun was a golden beacon, dipping below the cliffs, and the evening song echoed down from the roosts and temples above the Midcity. Khadam inhaled the smell of fresh vegetation, of dirt and dust and stone wafting up on the warm winds. And the sweet smell of sugar and boiling ginger from a nearby tea house, still brewing at this late hour.
She would miss this world. And these strange, short-lived xenos who dwelled on it.
Part of her wanted to see what they would do, with all their new constructs and the printers Khadam had given to the avians. But that was not her role.
“Remember what I said,” Khadam nodded at Ryke, “Keep the printers safe. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back to fix them.”
Ryke bowed her head, “They are hidden, in the highest temples. But only a few of us have the words to unlock them.”
“Good. Be careful. Try to avoid making weapons with them. It can… It gets out of hand. Trust me.”
“Respectfully, Divine One. You are the one who should be careful,” Ryke said.
“The gate is ready,” the android chimed in.
Khadam’s mood darkened at her voice. The Emperor was an unknown, but Laykis was something else. Every time the android spoke, she was reminded that not all machines could be bent to her will. Nothing Khadam could say changed the android’s mind, even in the slightest. Laykis was adamant in her faith of the Poire.
An enemy was one thing. A servant who disagreed with you, another.
Well, that’s what the safeguards are for, Khadam thought, as her eyes moved up Laykis’s new armor. And the android simply stared back, that scarred, mouthless face, motionless. The lights of her eyes burning into her. Khadam couldn’t shake the feeling that Laykis knew her thoughts.
“Last chance to back out,” Khadam said.
“Without me, you will not know the city. I have been long in Cyre before.”
“I could take a cyran.”
“Which one will you trust? Kirine is a traitor-”
“A traitor?” Kirine barked, offended. But Ryke put a hand on his shoulder, calming him.
“A revolutionary, then,” Laykis corrected herself. “Though I doubt your Veneratian is using that word these days. I will be your guide, Divinity. You may trust me.”
Khadam kept her mouth shut. She nodded her last goodbyes, flicked down the visor of her helmet, and all the displays came to life, illuminating her world. Laykis was already working at the gate’s controls, convening with the semi-sentient architecture, wordlessly willing it into motion.
Khadam’s boots clanked on the gate, the metal already chilling beneath her feet. She hefted herself onto her bike, feeling it dip beneath her weight. Then, the repulsors surged and stabilized, idling in midair.
One last thought, accompanied by a great sigh, as she realized what she’d have to do.
“Android,” Khadam said. “You should hop on the bike. Ride with me.”
“If that is your wish.”
“Wouldn’t call it a wish, exactly. But it’s faster than having you run alongside me, don’t you think? We’re running low on time.”
“Are we?”
“Every second we delay, the destroyer brings us a step closer to the end.”
“To rush is to risk error,” Laykis said, climbing on the saddle behind Khadam. Khadam tried her hardest not to flinch away from Laykis’s touch.
“Divinity, if you would but take a moment in the Black Library, Divine One, you might find the proof that Poire cannot be a destroyer. I have seen the words, written-”
But by then, the arms were spinning, making their low whoop-whooping around the gate, and Khadam could pretend the sound drowned out the android’s request.
The last thing she saw was flickers of Kirine and Ryke, side by side. Watching her, their faces painted with worry.