“Kerbok. Doctor Kerbok.”
“So, what does this mean?” Michael didn’t like where this was going.
“The machines don’t seem to be dangerous, for now, but the nanobots aboard this ship are keeping them in check. I would hazard a guess that they slowed the initial… infection, a fair bit as well.” Kerbok turned the tablet around, showing Michael the image of the machines. They just looked like tiny orbs. He expected more legs and claws, perhaps microscopic versions of the collector robots. “But they’re self-replicating and that energy and resources have to come from somewhere. And that’s you. You’ll probably feel hungrier than usual, maybe even a little faint. If they weren’t being held back, I have no idea what it would do to you. Likely it would be fatal, the exponential drain on you would be too much.”
“Brilliant. Infected by deadly alien robots.” Michael placed his chin in his hands, lifting his knees and resting his elbows on them.
“It’s not the end of the world, I think we can solve this issue rather easily. Your friend here thinks he can corral the nanobots inside you with his own, push them into one place. If we can get them all into your bloodstream, a simple transfusion would be the answer. Simply flush them out and replace the blood.”
“So, you’re saying that all I need to do is find another human willing to give me a donation?”
“Exactly,” Kerbok said with a smile.
“Yeah uh, I better fill you in with my history, doc. That isn’t so easy.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Michael lay on the grass, staring up at the shimmering blue sky above. Eden had begun another jump, careening through space away from its previous location, in case more Unmind ships arrived. There had been a long argument over how the Unmind had found Eden, to begin with. Dozens of theories had been put forth, but eventually, everyone agreed that they hadn’t tracked Michael. The timing of the Unmind arrival meant they had to know where Eden was before the Seeker had reached there. The current opinion was that the machines had somehow read his mind whilst he had been captured. Michael didn’t like that thought, and he doubted it a little. He didn’t know the first thing about stellar navigation.
The grass on Eden was different to the stuff back home, on Earth. All the plant life was. Everything was bigger, two or three times the size Michael was used to. He remembered reading something about how everything was larger during the Jurassic, flashbacks of school trips to museums flooding back to his mind. Giant plastic bugs screwed onto imitation rock walls, long walks through fossilised leaf imprints before you got to the really good stuff, the worn plaster dinosaurs.
He had been allowed off the Sword, eventually. Kerbok and Clive had been hesitant, the constant war between microscopic machines going on within his body needed a steady stream of new troops. Whilst the Unmind nanobots were gathering supplies from Michael, Clive’s didn’t have that option. They eventually agreed Michael could leave the ship but gave him a strict time limit to return within so he could replenish his artificial immune system.
The Custodian had attempted to interact with the Unmind nanobots, taking control of them as he had done the ones aboard the Sword. There was no joy there, the encryption on the Unmind machines proving unbreakable. The Custodian has wandered off, muttering about the specific kind of coding being used.
“Hey,” Aileena said, leaning over Michael, her shadow blocking out the glowing skyline.
“Hey.”
“You uh, doing ok?” Aileena sat down on the grass beside Michael, crossing her legs as she did.
“Aside from there being a tiny robot war going on inside my guts?” Michael sat up slightly, resting his palms flat against the grass. “Not bad. Could be worse. I could have been indexed, whatever that means?”
“Glad to hear it.” Something about Aileena’s voice sounded off. It was almost as if she was nervous. Michael had never seen the mercenary waver before.
“So… everything ok with you?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve just been thinking. And talking. To Brekt”
“Oh. So, you’re moving on then? Can’t say I blame you. There’s no cash to be made here and you are a mercenary after all.” Michael sat up further, rubbing his now dirty hands against his trousers. The flight from Purnax had robbed him of his chance to replace his suit and the stitching was getting precarious.
“No! No, it’s nothing like that. Well, it is. Kind of. We want to go to Euria. We want to go home.”
“Hah, well, I understand that. I would love to go home.”
“Right, but I mean go home, then come back to Eden. Look, you know I took this job so I could help the monks who raised me, who trained me to be a mercenary. That the Council bombed their monastery, killed most of them. Well, I was thinking, this place, this Eden,” Aileena said, gesturing around her. “This is the safest place in the galaxy, really. A planet that’s never in the same place twice. I want to bring them here, build the monastery on Eden. And Brekt has all his kids, his family. He’s been away from them too long.”
Michael just nodded. He understood what she was saying, it all made perfect sense. It was odd to see Aileena being sentimental.
“I wanted to ask you, see if you’ll back me up if I put the idea forward to the others.”
“Sure,” Michael said. His voice was faint, soft. “Why, did you think I wouldn’t?”
Aileena shook her head. “No, no I didn’t think you wouldn’t. I just… wanted to make sure. You’re the Knower, after all. For all your protests about it, everyone here looks to you as a leader.” Aileena placed her hand on Michael’s.
“Yeah, I’ll back you up.”
“Thank you,” Aileena said with a smile.
The thrall fell to the floor, its body still twitching as life faded from it. Abberax thought it would make him feel better. It hadn’t, and he had simply wasted a thrall. Normally he would be unconcerned, the supplies of fresh thralls endless, but out here, on his own, no new bodies were coming. He scratched at the armrests of his throne, sparks flying from the metal as the jagged tips of his fingers dug in.
Before him, projected in the centre of the chamber as a hologram was a large metal ring. A Council repair facility of some kind. Abberax didn’t care all that much, the only thing important about it was that he had been here, the Knower of Truths.
It had been startlingly easy to track him. He had been leaving messages at the site of every victory, cloying begging appeals for people to join him. Abberax didn’t understand the purpose of it, he was simply broadcasting where he had been, and it was easy enough to guess what his next targets would be. It was as if the Council simply didn’t know their stations were being hijacked or didn’t care. Either way, Abberax was shocked at how simply his dreadnought had slipped past their lines, traipsing around in undefended Council space.
“You there, thrall!” Abberax said, pointing at the ashen skinned slave who had appeared to collect the corpse lain at Abberax’s feet. “Any progress on the prisoners?”
“I… I don’t know, my lord, my role is maintenance. I can find out for you. If you would like?”
“No, no. I will do it myself. A little time loosening the tongues of some Council sycophants might improve my mood. Carry on.” Abberax dismissed the thrall with a flick of his rocky hand, the slave breathing a sigh of relief as he dragged the body away.
He stood up, rumbling as his stones rubbed together briefly. Abberax’s body had settled during his boredom, the gaps between each floating segment shortening, his control reflecting his mental state. He crossed the bridge, great clomps reverberating with each footstep. As he walked past thralls, they cowered, showing proper fear of their leader. He would have smiled, if he had a face, instead his crystal releasing a warm glow. Finally, the chance at a little fun.