Arrival Hall, Core Facility, One Hundred and Thirty-Two Kilometers Below

Lumiara, Survivor’s Refuge

4454.3.5 Interstellar

The Irkallans crowded into the arrival hall, which turned out be thirty meters long and ten meters wide, as well as three-stories tall. It was just slightly bigger than required to hold the entire population of New Prometheus, had they all made it as far as this facility. It stank of design, as if the reason Nikandros had offered to “save” two hundred Irkallans from supposed compartmentalist death squads was because he knew they would end up here.

“What are you thinking about?” Lee asked, squeezing his hand.

“Fate,” Janus said. “And the void.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because they take?”

“They do,” Janus agreed.

Why had Nikandros wanted a group of two hundred Irkallans on Lumiara? Because they would do what no member of the cult would. But first, they had to be backed into a corner, harassed and threatened by the purgationists, and shunned by the more attractive factions so they couldn’t assimilate into the whole.

After a year of pressures that almost tore them apart, they were loaded onto ships and delivered, like the payload of a torpedo, into the Cult’s most sacred heart.

Any sign of the post-humans? he asked the others.

Not yet, the captain answered.

Compartmentalist researchers passed through the crowd, handing out the plain robes of cult initiates.

“No thank you,” Janus said.

“Please, Emissary,” the researcher said. “There is a purpose to everything that happens here.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Janus said. “It’s just safer to do maintenance in coveralls.”

The researcher offered him the robes again. “This is a peak prewar facility, Emissary. It is fully automated. The Core facility maintains itself.”

That sent shivers through Janus. The airlock breach that had started all this had been caused by too many people relying on automated systems.

He took the robes, though, and like many of the others, he pulled them on over his coveralls like a poncho.

We are here, Emersus sent.

We’re ready, Janus said.

There hadn’t been time to brief everyone, but the Irkallans who’d been sent to New Prometheus had all been rebels, in one form or another. They made room for the post-humans as they moved through the crowd, handing out weapons.

A ten-meter-tall hologram of Nikandros appeared at the far end of the hall. He turned his head to look at them over his shoulder.

“Greetings, heroes of Irkalla! I see the preliminaries have begun. Weapons, post-humans… If I was the resentful sort, I would seal this room and remove all the air from it.”

Janus stiffened. He hadn’t thought Nikandros would gain such total control over the facility yet.

Nikandros faced them fully, his pleated robes immaculate, hood up, and gray carbide mask in place. “I’m willing to give you a chance, however. A final test for some, and the beginning of a new life for the others. Simply lay down your weapons, and you will be spared.”

Janus looked around the crowd, but it didn’t look like anyone was in a hurry to obey.

A post-human looked up at him and pressed an assault rifle into his hands. He hid it under his robes.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Hmm,” Nikandros said. “For the rest of you, I have shared a waypoint with my current location. Fight your way to me, if you must.”

Janus looked at Lee.

“I know,” she said. “I’ll take care of Xander.”

“Thank you, Lee Grace Zygsdöttir,” Janus said with a quirk of his lip. “You’re the better of both of us.”

“Don’t you forget it, mate.”

Janus sighed. Still sounded too much like Mick. He activated his comm. “Aspirants, form up in your teams. It’s time to finish this fight.”

***

Janus, Lira, Mick, and Syn moved down the passageway, weapons raised and covering each other, just like they had during the training simulations.

“How many are we dealing with?” Lira asked.

“There should only be five or six left,” Mick said. “The posts took out three of them on the docks. It only depends on whether Ryler is with them or waiting with Nikandros.”

“I’d prefer not to hurt Ryler,” Janus said. “He’s not mech’ed up like the others.”

“I’m not taking a bullet for him,” Lira said.

“There’s only one way Nikandros took over the security systems this quickly,” Syn said.

“Everyone focus,” Janus said.

If Ryler raised a weapon against his team, Janus would shoot him. He didn’t want to, but Ryler’s choices had brought him to this moment, just like them all.

Gunshots rang out ahead, around the corner, and Janus started to run forward.

“Easy, boss,” Mick said, grabbing him by the robes. “You know what the survival ratio is if we go it alone.”

Janus nodded.

More gunfire rang out, and Janus winced. Someone up there was having a bad day, and they were going to get there too late to help them.

Two more aspirant teams joined them, and together, they moved forward.

There was green blood in the hallway, and two post-humans were slumped against the right-hand wall. A third post was sprawled in the hallway, with a trail of green blood marking where he’d crawled before losing consciousness.

“Keep moving,” Mick said. “Follow teams will take care of—”

A cyborg popped out of cover and shot. Janus tackled Mick out of the way while Lira and Syn returned fire. Sparks flashed off the cyborg’s arm and skull, and it stumbled, before ducking back around the corner.

“Get him before he recovers!” the leader of the second team shouted.

“No!” Janus said, but it was too late. Two aspirants rounded the bend, supporting each other, but they slammed into the opposite wall.

“Team two, fall in with us,” Mick snapped, moving back into the point position.

“Mick, no,” Janus said, eyes glowing as he consulted the facility schematics.

Mick’s jaw bulged, but he gave Janus a tight nod.

Going head to head with cyborgs would only lead to more casualties.

Then, one of the “dead” aspirants moaned.

What? Janus tapped Mick and took another look at the fallen aspirants. They were unconscious, but there were no signs of tears in their robes, or blood.

The compartmentalists had given them bulletproof robes.

Janus brought his fingers to his lips. There was no point tipping the enemy off to their advantage, and all the smart fabric robes in the inner sea wouldn’t help them if the cyborgs switched to head shots.

More gunshots. Janus and his reinforced team fell back along the corridor. He could see that two more teams were pushing up on the other side, and so he used hand signals to direct Mick down the next passage.

And took position.

There was a trick to out-reacting a combat cyborg. It was mostly impossible. Fiber optics were simply faster than biological neurons. But there was still a human being behind the cybernetics and—

Janus and his team opened fire just as the two cyborgs came out into the open, putting round after round into them until one collapsed and the other managed to limp away.

—human beings tried to anticipate the future. It was in their nature. Anticipation was also distraction, so the trick was to fight against that very anticipation.

Janus waved Mick forward, and the fight for the Core facility pushed on.

***

“How many casualties?” Nikandros asked.

“Half of the post-humans killed, and the others fled. They didn’t stand a chance against soldiers with weapons, not in such small numbers. Among the Irkallans, ten wounded, fourteen dead,” Ryler said. “Much better than during the skirmishes on the ship.”

“They couldn’t put their numerical superiority to use there,” Nikandros said. “Combat between humans and cyborgs was always a matter of numbers, and of cost.”

Another of the compartmentalist cyborgs was permanently disabled.

Died.

Nikandros suppressed his unease. He disliked the waste of allowing his troops to be used up like this. The original plan had been to kill the compartmentalist researchers once containment had been achieved, but he’d been both unable to co-opt Janus during their journey or completely break him.

He’d take care of that now.

But it meant the Irkallan aspirants had to be wittled down. Nikandros was superior to even a squad of his fellow soldiers, but even he would have a hard time against nearly fifty aspirants.

Well, he thought. Now thirty-five.

The number of survivors surprised him, though. He had given his soldiers clear instructions, and they didn’t include shooting to wound. “Ryler—”

“Ballistic smart fabric,” his librarian answered, anticipating Nikandros’s question. “The compartmentalist researchers handed them out in the arrival hall.”

“The Oracle warned them,” Nikandros growled.

“The Oracle is just a machine,” Ryler said dispassionately. “But it does appear they used it to selfish ends.”

Nikandros nodded, suppressing the remnants of anger from his system.

Every life the compartmentalists had saved would only cost them later. There was only room for so many people on the Core facility, and Nikandros intended for this last choice to be the one that finally opened Janus’s eyes and made him the outlier that would be the pattern for all those who came after him: beaten, compliant, and useful.