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Chapter 9

The Protogen had dark blue fur and a black uniform with fine leather gloves. Entering the computer room, he placed his hand near one of the terminals and held it there until the login screen cleared. Selecting an option on the menu, he stood back as the screen switched to show another uniformed Protogen. Behind him, several more were operating computers or other equipment in the background.

"Lieutenant Sorg," the dark blue Protogen said.

"Commander," the underling snapped.

"New orders," the commander said. "His Imperial Highness wants one of each colour. In His wisdom He has determined that these robots are ranked and colour-coded according to combat ability. When we have a suitable selection, we shall test them in the arena."

"Sir," the other protogen said, and snapped a salute. "I shall change the search criteria accordingly. Praise the Emperor!"

"Praise the Emperor," the officer said, and the screen went blank for a moment before showing the menu again. He signed off and left the room.

Xerian climbed out from behind the rack of equipment where he'd been hiding and the others did the same.

"Holy Vader," he muttered. "That Emperor is off his rocker."

"Be more specific," Quirk said.

"He's... Trying to kidnap one of each colour of Synth," Xerian said quietly.

"And...? I mean, that's a pretty shitty way to decide who to kidnap, but he's a pretty shitty person. How else would you do it? Roll a pair of dice? Ask for volunteers?"

"You don't understand," Xerian said, and held out his arm in front of the protogen. "Watch."

"What am I supposed to be... Oh." he faltered as Xerian's fingers began to turn blue, then black, white and finally red again.

"That's quite impressive," Quirk said. "Nanomechanics?"

"Artificial chromatophores, like in a squid or a chameleon. We can change our default skin colour by reprogramming our blueprint or temporarily override it by conscious control like I just did. We usually come out of the factory white and pick a suitable colour scheme as we grow up."

"That's going to make life interesting for the Emperor," Quirk said with an electronic gurgling sound.

"Screw the Emperor, it's going to make life very interesting for his kidnap victims." Xerian protested.

"Or very short," Niall said.

"You're not helping!" Xerian snapped. "What will he do when he discovers that he's kidnapped a whole bunch of people unnecessarily?! We have to stop it before he k-kills them!"

"It might not be so bad," Quirk reassured him. "He's insane and evil but also pragmatic. Keeping them as hostages might help him force a surrender."

"But he's going to make them f-fight to the d-death in a combat arena!" Xerian wailed.

"Only when the mooks have got enough," Quirk pointed out. "Now, their brains aren't not firing on all cores, so all we have to do is make sure their goal is never reached. That will delay things until we can figure out a way to rescue them."

"Hey, boss," Lautrec said, padding back towards them as they left the room. "I've just spotted something I think you should see."

* * *

At a nearby regeneration room, a brown Protogen was lying on a slab, restraints surrounding him just as had been done with P3T3R. A robot was operating the control console.

"Info: Vital signs stabilized," the robot said. "Cybernetic life support deactivated."

"That's the guy Niall hit with the pipe," Lautrec hissed, front paws resting on the window ledge as they peered into the room furtively.

"Info: Brain activity satisfactory," the robot intoned. "Warning: Custom module loaded. Switching to unofficial post-revival process."

At this, the probes and energy blades they had seen before emerged from a hatch in the side.

"Info: Locating prefrontal cortex..." the robot said. "Info: Prefrontal cortex located OK. Initiating surgery."

There was a whirring sound and the probe bored a hole in the side of the protogen's skull, sinking visibly into the fluffy creature's head for a few moments as it did its evil work. The cyborg twitched slightly as their mind was violated, gloved hands clawing helplessly at the air, and strange groups of pixels changed on the visor, garbling the face for a few moments.

Xerian stared fixedly at the floor and leaned against the wall queasily. He would have thrown up if he had been organic. Niall's headwings drooped noticeably but he kept watching, and Lautrec stared at the procedure as if hypnotized, wide-eyed with horror. "No, Master... Not my brains... Not my delicate positronic brains..." he muttered and finally dropped down on all fours to avoid seeing he rest of it. Quirk seemed a little subdued, but kept watching.

Finally the probes retracted and the wound was patched shut by a similar device. The restraints were withdrawn and the creature sat up.

"Info: Operation completed," the robot said. "Orders: Patrol the ship for intruders. Info: Returning to (own) patrol."

"Praise the Emperor," the Protogen said, saluted, and marched out of the room, filing after the robot.

"Well," Quirk said slowly. "That's what we're fighting against."

Xerian nodded unhappily. Lautrec had curled up tightly and was whimpering softly. Niall stroked the stricken cat's head reassuringly. "It's okay, it's okay. Daryil said he was sorry..." the fox crooned.

"I know, I know," Lautrec sobbed, "I know I don't even have a positronic brain... But you know how scary it is to have your brain owned by someone else... All the horrible things they did to positronic robots in the stories... I'm scared..."

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," he said. "They'll never get through your armour. You're safe... probably safer than anyone else here." Quirk looked at the panther with a confused expression.

"For a killing machine he seems to have a bit of a weak spot," the Protogen observed.

"Our cyberjags were originally designed and built on a world that treated them as disposable slaves," Niall sighed. "Kind of like how Protogens started out, in fact. Ours like Lautrec here, are highly prized - but the basic neural map they're all preloaded with still has a few traumas from the totalitarian hellworld. It didn't help that someone pulled off a cruel prank that convinced half our panthers that they were about to have their brains harvested."

"Y-yes," Lautrec said. "I think I'll be okay now, but seeing that... It didn't do me any good. Didn't think it would be that bad."

So saying, he stood up and flexed his gleaming red claws. "And now I want to put these through the Emperor's visor," he snarled. "Maybe I can rearrange his brains!"

"How does it know?" Niall asked suddenly.

"What?" Quirk glanced at him with a look of incomprehension. "What are you talking about...? Did I miss something...?"

"The resurrection machinery, and/or the robots tending it." the vulpine said slowly. "You've said that the officer class keep their minds after resurrection, while the others are reduced to shambling idiots. How does the system know who's an officer and who isn't?"

"Oooh," Quirk said, looking pleased. "If I hack the surgery unit, we can sabotage that check! We can make it lobotomise the Emperor's little friends too! Maybe even the Emperor himself!"

"No!" Xerian yelped, appalled. "You can't do that! Deliberately making people b-braindead is... That's just evil! You've just seen it happen! You said so yourself - that's exactly what we're supposed to be fighting against!"

"I guess so," the protogen admitted, looking put out. "Sorry... Assassin, remember?"

"We are killing machines too," Niall said, patting Lautrec. "But we do have standards."

"What about the reverse, though?" Lautrec asked. "What do you suppose would happen if the brainless mooks weren't operated on after resuscitation? Would they still be brainless?"

"That's stupid!" Quirk objected. "They've already been destroyed! If you have a letter and you cut the top off, gluing on a fresh piece of paper won't bring back the writing."

"But it will mean you won't get lobotomised if you need a resurrection," Niall pointed out. "And for your information, I am not so sure. As someone who has dabbled in necromancy and has a working knowledge of soul-transference, I think their minds might be able to heal once the blocks are removed. There's more to consciousness than the purely physical aspect, so I think it's worth a shot."

"Nonsense!" Quirk spluttered, looking scandalised.

"Is it? You keep going on about how you people are backed up in your implants. If he's restored from backup intact..."

"If the backup has been reprogrammed then it's not going to make any difference, is it?" Quirk snapped. "What good is a backup of corrupted data?"

"But if that's the case, why do they need to neuter the brain again after the revival process?" Niall asked reasonably. "That implies that the brain is being fully repaired as standard procedure, and they need to alter it again afterwards."

"But..." Quirk started to reply but stopped and just looked back at him unhappily.

"Look. I think it's worth an experiment, at least," the vulpine said encouragingly. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. And in that case, we'll be in the exact same position as we are now. But if it does... We could have an army against the Emperor! And you'll have a safety net in the case that you're killed!"

"Alright, alright," Quirk said, throwing up his gauntleted hands. "We'll go back to the terminal and I'll try and hack the control system. It's worth it in case I need to be revived - but I still think that trying to un-lobotomise people is a fool's errand."

As the opened the door to the computer room, they saw two Protogens already inside - the dark blue commander from before, and a red-furred underling. Quirk's visor flashed "KiLL" again and he surged forward, but before he could do anything, a shot rang out. Quirk spasmed horribly and slumped to the floor, a hole neatly punched through his visor.

"Huh..." he said. "K-Kill..." and then his visor went blank.

"Good," the commander said, examining the body while the red protogen covered them with a firearm. "No implant damage. Excellent! As a drone, he shall serve the Emperor well." He glanced at the others. "Consider this a warning. And repayment for the damage he has done to our glorious cause."

"Noted," Xerian said, raising his hands. Lautrec sat down like a dog and sheathed his claws.

Niall raised his own hands too. "Take us to your leader," he said.