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Chapter 4

"Look on the bright side, boss," Lautrec said. "Yes, we're stuck on an alien spaceship that kidnapped your boyfriend and are facing the prospect of seeing your homeworld invaded, but at least this time you won't have to worry about recharging. That buys us time to figure out what the hell we should be doing."

"True," Xerian sighed. "Getting the reactor installed... For a while, I wondered if I was being paranoid... yet here we are."

"Once bitten, twice shy," Lautrec said. "Kind of glad we didn't have to go for the other option."

"What was the 'other option'?" Quirk asked.

"Well, I have a microfusion plant," the cyberjag said. "By design rather than as an add-on like Xerian here. There's a hidden XLR4 connector on one of my shoulders and we could, at a pinch, have connected Xerian to it and recharged his systems off my power bus.
"However it... well, I'd like to be considered a bit more than just a battery on legs. And also it feels a bit too much like a witch's familiar where they co-depend on each other and the witch drinks their blood. No, wait - I think I got it backwards, the familiar drinks from the witch?"

Quirk and Xerian both stared at him blankly. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"Uh... Some stupid folklore thing?" Lautrec said, looking put out. "Nevermind, I think we're all from completely different worlds anyway."

"What can we do?" Xerian fretted. "Can we prevent the invasion? And what about Zuki? We need to find out if he's alive and rescue him before he starves to death!"

"The robots said something about suspension chambers," Lautrec said. "So I suspect he's probably safe for now - assuming that the Emperor's mooks know how to keep Synths alive and charged."

"But if they don't, that might be why they keep kidnapping more people!" Xerian wailed.

"The ship does have stasis chambers," Quirk confirmed. "And while the robots may be dumb as bricks, the people making the decisions will be aware of your need for recharging by now. The folks running the ship have been studying your kind long enough to have a working translation model, after all. So frankly, your friend is probably in a safer position than we are - at least for now."

"Okay," Lautrec said. "That's good to know, but my boss is going to want to double-check it. It might be best if I did a little exploration on my own.
"But, in order to come up with a plan, we need a lot more info. For starters, who is the Emperor? Where's he the emperor of?"

"If we don't stop him, he'll be emperor of your world," Quirk said. "But the truth is, he's a psycho who took over the Aladare cluster. I'm not sure where that is going by your reference. He killed the rulers and had his enemies rounded up and either killed... or worse."

"He ate their souls?!" Lautrec looked horrified. "Where I come from, they chop your head off for doing that! It's one of the only capital crimes left!"

"Uh..." Quirk said, his face adopting a confused expression. "Either that's some kind of translation error or... Weren't you talking about witchcraft earlier...? Surely you don't believe in that? You're a robot!"

"I come from another universe," the cyberjag said. "One that is unusually abundant in magical energy. However, we do also have technology. It is a strange world I was created on... a mixture of futuristic buildings and technology in some parts, and wooden huts and swords in others. And to further confuse things, the technology to make me was stolen from another universe again, which they accessed through magical means."

"He's telling the truth," Xerian said. "I was dropped into his universe by a powerful multidimensional entity to perform a task for them. I have seen ample demonstrations of magical prowess from that land's inhabitants, including soul-transfers. That was... an experience."

"Listen, we can discuss that later," Lautrec insisted. "Right now, I'm more interested in the Emperor. We need to know what we're up against. Now... he killed the rulers of this Aladare region, took over, and had his enemies executed. But you said he did worse things too?"

"...Right," Quirk said. "Yes. Well, actually most of them weren't killed, you see... They were turned into his mooks. They were... lobotomised. Or reprogrammed. Or both."

"Eww," Lautrec said, and backed away. "Is that what you were saying they'll do to P3T3R if he's caught?"

"Exactly. And me, too."

"What about us?" Xerian asked, looking appalled. "Is that what they plan to do with the Synths currently in the suspension chambers? Hack up our b-brains?"

"Doubtful," Quirk said. "And that's one of the things we need to put on our TO-DO list - find out exactly what their intentions are for the captives once the invasion is underway. But since you're entirely cybernetic, I don't think you need fear being converted to one of Them. Or your friends, for that matter."

"Hmm," Xerian looked doubtful, but gestured for the protogen to continue.

"Anyway, he ruled that region with an iron fist for a while until there was an uprising and he was deposed," Quirk said. "They went back to a system of elected councils after that, but the Emperor didn't go quietly. He commandeered this ship and fled, vowing revenge. That's why it's in a bit of a state, because it's operating with about a quarter of the crew complement it was designed for. Which is good for us because it means we have plenty of bolt-holes to hide in and supplies to steal."

"And these lobotomised crew of his? Is that who we're hiding from?" Lautrec asked.

"For the most part, yes. The ship's crew are mostly Protogens like myself. Some are allies of the Emperor who supported him back in Aladare - they make the decisions. Others have been... converted. And of course there are the robots."

"So is the Emperor a protogen too?" Xerian asked.

"I don't really know," Quirk admitted. "He's pretty reclusive. I figured he might be a Primagen or... Or one of the Progenitors!"

"I am getting deja vu here," Xerian sighed. "When I was kidnapped before I had a tidal wave of knowledge to pick up about a universe with an ecosystem that incorporates magic. Now I need an infodump about your races too."

"Yeah," Lautrec said. "What's a primagen, and what's a progenitor? And is there anything more we need to know about protogens?"

"Okay," Quirk said after a brief pause. "Protogens are an artificially-created race. We were built to be disposable slaves by an ancient race. We start out... we're like genetically-engineered animals," Quirk said. "We're not even sentient. That comes with the implants."

"You're artificially uplifted?" Lautrec said, looking at Quirk with new respect. "That's kind of how my lot started out. Not me, I was built from scratch, but my basic neural structure was based on scans of genetically-enhanced big cats. Some of my older brothers actually were originally flesh-and-blood until they died and their consciousnesses were transferred into neuroprocessor arrays like mine."

"Synth brains are usually metal spheres like a tennis ball," Xerian began. Quirk practically jumped with excitement. "Positronic brains?!" he squealed. "Someone actually built positronic brains?! Wow! I wish I could see inside your head!"

At that moment, Quirk's visor started to flash "KiLL" again. Xerian leapt backwards in alarm as the protogen threw himself to the floor, wrestling one hand with the other until the flashing subsided. Finally he picked himself up and began straightening the creases of his dress. "If that ever happens in a combat situation, run," he advised. "Anyway! Were you saying that Synths have positronic brains?!"

"Uh, no," Xerian admitted, while Lautrec facepalmed with a hefty metal paw. "They're just very high density neural networks. I don't have one anyway - mine died and I was transferred into a neural processor array like Lautrec was saying. I have a panther brain now, in fact. It's a long story."

"Now I'm curious," Quirk said. "But we can pick that up later. Anyway, we protogens were built as slaves for the Progenitors. After our useful lives were spent, unwanted protogens were either terminated or simply discarded on the assumption that we would just wither away and die without orders to obey.
"But some of those abandoned protogens had their mind-control systems fail and they broke loose. Figured out how to disable the mind-control on their fellows, and began to make an army.
"There was a revolution against our creators and we were able to strike out on our own. Some factions of Progenitors want to 'fix their mistake' by eradicating us, but for the most part they're content to let us go our own way."

"And the Primagens?" Xerian asked.

"The progenitors' second attempt. We protos are 60% organic, 40% cybernetic. With the Primagens it's the other way around. They're mostly robotic but still with an augmented organic brain. They tend to be more callous and aloof than protogens and there have been conflicts in the past. But yeah, basically the same thing happened again - they were sent off into space to scout for the Progenitors, but somehow ended up breaking loose instead."

"Either possibility makes sense," Lautrec admitted. "From what you're saying, a primagen or protogen could decide to set themselves up as ruler. Of course it could still be an incubus," he added. "Or... even no emperor at all. Like he's a puppet figurehead invented by his supporters."

"Soon you will find out if the Emperor is real, traitors!" a voice called. Xerian and Lautrec turned to see an armed protogen entering the door to their hideout. Unlike Quirk, who had a triangular symbol on one cheek and random noise on the other, this protogen had a lightning-like design that had a distinctly authoritarian feel to it, a look not enhanced by the assault rifle-like weapon he was aiming at the group.

"Excuse me," Lautrec asked. "Can I just ask... How can I be a traitor to someone if I never knew they existed?"

"We surrender," Xerian added, putting his hands above his head.

"Silence, scum!" the protogen snapped, and shifted his aim to Lautrec.

Quirk reacted instantly, his visor flashing "KiLL" again. There was a loud bang and his victim collapsed into a twitching heap with a hole punched through their visor, and blood pooling around their head. The adjacent wall was splattered with red mess.

"No!" Xerian whimpered, and collapsed to his knees.