<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>

Chapter 7

"So," Niall said. "We're aboard a spaceship crewed by protogens who are intent on attacking Xerian's homeworld and have been abducting Synths and organics from said planet. They are doing this on behalf of their evil Emperor, who may or may not be a protogen himself. The resistance consists of you two and Quirk, who is a stowaway and has been living in the cracks in the ship like a semi-cybernetic rat. Am I right?"

"Basically, yes," Lautrec said. "Though naturally we are hoping you will help us too."

"All the information we have comes from Quirk," Niall pointed out. "Do you trust him? Remember, as an android replica I do not have thought-reading powers and these fancy head-wings are just for show."

Quirk looked offended and his visor began flashing "KiLL" again. He coiled as if to leap on Niall but the android simply reached out and grabbed him by the throat, lifting the cyborg off the ground. Quirk struggled for a few moments and then his eyes went back to normal.

"You're stronger than you look," Quirk said as the android incubus put him down. "Even so, please don't threaten me. I'm not in full control of my combat software."

"I have an experimental military spec chassis," Niall said. "Tightly controlled. And I will keep that in mind. My kind can suffer temper tantrums as well, so I'm used to it. Either way, please forgive my scepticism, but I would like to see a bit more proof of the Emperor's evil intentions before I actively go around breaking things to thwart an emperor whose name I don't even know."

"It's not good luck to say it," Quirk looked around furtively. "But if you must... He goes by Lord Cyra. I don't know if that's his given name or a title or what. That's all I know, and remember I was built to mindlessly kill his enemies, not ask questions."

"Lord Cyra?" Niall asked, looking appalled. "He's your Emperor?! And he's invading Xerian's homeworld?!"

"You know the Emperor?" Quirk looked at him suspiciously, and his visor flashed "KiLL" again for a moment.

"It might just be a coincidence," Niall said. "But Cyra is a major power in my world. She is one of about a dozen key players in the incubus and succubus world. One of the few remaining ascended clan leaders. She's 50 paws tall... Wait, that doesn't make sense. She's uh, about the size of a large building, and exceptionally powerful.
"In her youth she accidentally destroyed a city and has been reclusive after that, both to protect herself and also to avoid causing more tragedies. She had a daughter who survived for 7000 years and is suspected of ending the dragon race, and also a grandson called Daniel. And, to escape the war that she inadvertently started, she fled into space."

"You think the Emperor is this Daniel Cyra?!" Xerian looked scared.

"I don't want to believe it," Niall said. "Daniel was brought up believing he was an ordinary mortal and not an incubus. I met him at the Academy. As a young incubus the thought that he might grow up to be a monster terrified him. He was a nice lad and I can't believe that of all people, he would throw his concerns for regular folk aside and become an evil tyrant. That would make him everything he hated."

"'If you live long enough, you get to see yourself become the enemy,'" Lautrec quoted. "And you 'Cubi have very long lives."

"That did happen to dad, admittedly, but he grew out of it," Niall said. "And his tyranny was more about intimidation than actually killing people. He was feeding on their fear and you can't do that with dead people. Still, I won't believe that your emperor is Daniel Ti'Fiona without further proof.
"Besides, in coming here he'd lose his link to Cyra and that would do both of them a power of no good, especially in this low-magic environment - he would be significantly less powerful here.
"Really, 'Cyra' means 'Star' so it's possible that it's just a coincidence or some kind of translation issue. Though the idea that he might be an incubus is... disturbing."

"I should probably have asked his before," Quirk said. "But when you say 'incubus', what do you mean? We've spent a lot of time talking already, but if our enemy is one, I need to know what we're up against."

"Well, in Furrae there are several different races," Niall explained. "The normal folk are called 'Beings'. But the more powerful ones, with magically-enhanced metabolisms are collectively called 'Creatures'. Some of these races outwardly resemble mythical creatures from other parts of the multiverse. Apparently that's just how the multiverse is.
"Anyway. Among the varied races of Furrae there are incubi and succubi, generally referred to as 'Cubi. I was built as a replica of one, and have all his memories up to that point. I think of myself as his evil twin," R. Niall sighed happily.

"But I digress. Actual 'Cubi have a slew of abilities including empathy, telepathy, shapeshifting and can feed on emotions as our primary energy source. 'Cubi wings in particular can be sharpened to points or blades, which means we can stab or decapitate someone with no additional weapons. Unfortunately we also suffer from emotional instability and without training can fly into violent rages before we realise what we're doing.
"In the past, some 'Cubi would abuse these powers to cause suffering, and we were almost exterminated for it. Turns out 'quit yer shit or become extinct' does tend to make you buck up your ideas as a race. So these days, most 'Cubi don't do much worse than a some subtle tweaking to provoke delicious emotions from others around them."
"Part of that means that 'Cubi who are attuned to lust, like I was, tend to dress sensually. And even though I'm an android now and incapable of sensing or feeding on people's reactions to it, I still enjoy wearing sexy clothes for the hell of it," he finished, gesturing with his shiny opera gloves. "'Cubi love to look pretty, even if Beings think it's weird."

"I see," Quirk said, and the expression on his visor became rather happier. "So when you were saying 'Nice dress' earlier, you really meant it? Xerian reacted badly, so I guess I figured you were humouring me or something."

"Yes," Niall said simply. "'Cubi love to dress shiny, and the more provocative, the better. Personally I find skirts a bit of a nuisance but it can be nice sometimes, just to feel them drape over your legs. Usually I prefer a catsuit these days."

"Told you it was normal where I came from," Lautrec put in smugly.

"Protogens don't have much sexual dimorphism anyway, from what Dad told me," Niall said. "Male, female, other - you tend to look the same unless you've specifically chosen to resemble a given gender."

"Bob also admired your dress," Lautrec reminded Quirk.

"Bob was once an incubus," Niall pointed out. "He was given godlike powers by an even more godlike race known as the Fae. Point is, he retains our attitude towards clothing. 'Old man said, you are what you wear - wear well'."

"Anyway, we could talk about fashion all week. We should probably start putting this plan of yours into action."

"Yeah! Go team AI!" the panther cheered.

"Ahem," Quirk said, looking offended and tapping his head. "Cyborg, remember? There's a living brain up here."

"But you're not really using it," the panther said.

"What?!" the protogen's face turned angry and the word "KiLL" briefly flashed over his eyes.

"You said yourself that you're some kind of lab-grown animal, that you're not even sentient until the cybernetics hardware is installed in your head!" Lautrec argued. "About how your implants allow you to survive the destruction of your brain. That makes you an AI like us, just with an organic co-processor."

"No! That's not... I..." Quirk sagged, leaned against the wall and collapsed heavily to the ground. "...Shit." He said. "You're right. I... I am just a machine."

"I'm sorry," Xerian said. "But it's really nothing to be ashamed of. Lautrec and I, we're machines too, but we still think and feel like organics."

"There there," R.Niall said, patting the protogen on the head. "It's not that bad, and I've been both. Well, technically I've always been a machine, but I have the memories of being organic loaded into me. I remember what it's like. Yes, I'd love to be able to cast spells, read thoughts and eat banoffee pie, but besides that, being an AI has a lot going for it."

* * *

"Do you really think we should be doing this mission with you two dressed up like you're visiting a nightclub?" Xerian asked.

"Strictly speaking, we are going out clubbing," Niall said, hefting a length of pipe.

"That's not funny!" Xerian said.

"Halt!" a voice commanded as they approached a turning in the corridor.

"Must we?" Lautrec asked. Quirk's visor started flashing "KiLL" again and Niall quickly grabbed him to prevent any incidents.

"The Emperor commands," the protogen said, covering the group with his assault rifle. Their fur was brown and they had the red lightning bolt insignia on their shoulders and cheeks. "Obey the Emperor."

"Oh! Are you the Emperor?" Xerian asked, raising his hands. "Pleased to meet you, your highness!"

"Praise the Emperor!" the protogen intoned, pointing his gun at the Synth threateningly. "All must obey the Emperor."

"So, uh... What does the Emperor command?" Lautrec asked. "Right now we have no orders to obey."

"Emperor's orders. Traitor has malfunctioned. Must be processed or destroyed. You must be prisoners. Follow," the protogen commanded, gesturing with one hand. At that moment he turned and began walking in the direction he had indicated. Niall's pipe came down hard on the back of his head and the unfortunate cyborg crumpled.

"I take it this is one of the lobotomy victims?" he said sadly, relieving the fallen soldier of his weapon.

"Not for long," Quirk said, taking out his handgun and aiming at the side of the other protogen's head. "NO!" Xerian yelped and pushed the assassin aside. The shot went wild and made a hole in the floor tiling.

"What is wrong with you?!" Xerian demanded, looking horrified. "You can't k-kill him! The other one might have been self-defence, but this... It's flat-out m-murder!"

"But I'm putting him out of his misery!" Quirk protested. "The poor bastard's had his brains scrambled. Surely it's better to end it all than keep stumbling around in a trance, robbed of your free will and personality? Let me destroy his implants and end his suffering!"

"If we can end the Emperor's reign, we might be able to fix him," Niall said. "It depends how much of him is in the brain and how much is in the implants. In the meantime, speaking as an evil death robot, I have to agree with Xerian. Don't do it."

"This squeamishness will be the death of us all," Quirk protested, but holstered his gun.