Blood Crown (27 page)

I turn slightly so I can see him. On his forehead, the Blood Crown pulses then settles into a deep red pattern on his forehead. We are Bonded. And we are different than we were before. Together we are stronger. Together we can do . . . anything.

A collective sigh travels down the line of humans and whispers are shared—and not only among our people. Many of the Mind feel doubt—they never believed the Crown would work, and now that it has they are suddenly unsure of what it means for them, for Galen.

I return my attention to the soldier and Lily. He holds my gaze, the filaments in his eyes sparking. In my peripheral vision I note Elite pushing away from their human captives and sprinting away. I see in the soldier’s eyes that he, too, is about to abandon his post—

—the light suddenly leaves his eyes and he crumples to the ground.

Lily stumbles into my arms, but I am turning, watching as androids fall lifeless all around me.

Not all of them—one quarter, perhaps, maybe less.

Galen claps, slow and lazy. When I seek his gaze his features are hard, diamond-cut, and his eyes pierce me across the distance. To me he says, “There is no room in the Great Renewing for dissenters and cowards.” So he terminated the androids who doubted him. The ones who saw the Blood Crown as proof that it is we, Nicolai and I,
the human race
, who are meant for greatness—not them.

“No matter,” Galen continues. “Let us continue.”

Behind him, a cluster of soldiers struggle with three prisoners—women from their body shape, though they have bags on their heads and their ratty pants and tops are shapeless. I know he will have chosen them for a reason though. There are precious few people that will elicit any sort of reaction from me. With Lily behind me, and Archibald dead, I know Minn, and probably Sher and Tam are standing on that stage.

The crowd parts, making room for me, but I don’t move. Galen’s mind is as open to me as any of the artificial interfaces rampant on this ship—up to a point. He holds a part of himself locked up tight behind a barrier. But I know he will choose to speak his thoughts, to cling to the vestiges of humanity—a contradiction that amuses him, that he loves to exploit.

It is easy to read the minds of the individuals gathered—not the humans, of course, as they are far more complex than even the Mind Elite. Galen might fool himself that he has reached a level of evolution beyond humankind but he is still just a string of code, some wires and nanos. He is not human, will never be human. He can never understand what it truly means to be set apart, but to choose not to be alone.

“I was curious if the Creator would have been right about you,” Galen says. His tone belies his own internal struggle—he is both impressed and annoyed. No doubt he hoped the Creator had failed, that he couldn’t possibly have foreseen how the untested tech would evolve over a century.

Yet here we are—Nicolai and Serantha, part human, part technology. The best of both worlds.

“I’m glad we were able to witness this lovely . . . event . . . before we must terminate you. Now we’ll have complete data for future reference.”

“Why do you even need it?” Nic asks as he slowly approaches Galen. “Once humankind is extinct—an event that is likely to occur imminently—the data will be irrelevant.”

Galen shrugs casually, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. He looks so elegant, so benign, but I know that inside, his synapses are firing at an alarming speed, calculating every option, organizing and sorting the data into potential eventualities.

“It’s true. Nevertheless, it will provide interesting study material. Plus,” he pulls a chair to the edge of the stage and sits down, crossing his legs and draping one hand over his knee. “One day we will encounter another organic race, and it might be interesting to see how they fare once merged with our technology. I think it will be rather fun, actually. A brave new world, as they say.”

Nic’s rage mirrors my own, and I use it to propel my feet forward.

“I don’t think you’ll have that chance, Servant,” I say. I feel Galen’s anger, then, and I resist a smile. Instead, I press on. “Do you really think we’d let you get that far?”

Nic and I move in time with one another, our pacing, our thoughts, our every breath an exact echo of the other. I don’t need to worry about not knowing him, about loving him, or anything else—all I need is his download. Because of it I know we are perfect for one another. And perfect for our people. Our Creator made us like gods, like Adam and Eve—our only thought for the people in our care.

Galen laughs and his inhumanity is painfully obvious. Despite their best efforts the Mind are only second-class humans, after all. I expect to feel his anger, but instead he lets it slip away. Emotions are just accoutrements, anyway. Galen feels nothing at all.

But his directive is specific—eliminate the human race. Rule the Mind. And then . . .

“What will you do when you’ve accomplished your goals, Galen?” I ask.

Galen levels his hard gaze at me. When his lips curve upward in a smirk that will haunt me for my entire life, the sacks over the prisoners’ heads are yanked off. Beneath their ratty hair and tear-stained cheeks I see Sher and her mother and a young woman I don’t recognize.

I flick my gaze toward Galen and find him still locked onto me, watching me, cataloging my reaction. With my eyes level with his own, the order is silently given: Three blades are drawn across the women’s throats in absolute synchronicity.

He killed them. Just . . . killed them.

I am falling. My knees cracking against the slate stones.

Their blood drains down the fronts of their shirts and trousers, pools at their feet. Then they too are falling, crumpling to the stage like dolls. Empty and worthless.

Behind me, around me—I’m not sure which—screams change meaning. They were flavored with shock and fear, but now they are far more personal. They are the screams of the dying.

While I sit, motionless, unable to act, the humans are slaughtered.

The ship, do you feel it?
Nic’s thought cuts through the static in my mind, forcing me to acknowledge a different voice of outrage. The ship.

It screams in defiance of what the Mind have done. It had been created with the directive to protect its inhabitants—including its
human
inhabitants.

I lurch forward, pressing my palms to the stone, bracing myself against the onslaught of information, loss and death and the chorus of thousands of Elite minds shouting with victory. Beneath my hands the stone is no longer stone, but a collection of molecules and code, spreading apart, joining with my hands until it is unclear where my body ends and the ship begins. She is calling to me, demanding my attention, my action.

I cannot be broken. I am stronger than them.

My head whips up, my eyes finding Galen’s. He doesn’t yet perceive what is happening inside of me. He sees only the shell, the human woman he despises. My mind is far too complex for him to comprehend.

I send the command. Galen’s ego will be his undoing.

It takes a moment, but a millisecond before his destruction Galen’s face registers his confusion, the moment he realizes the game has changed and he cannot comprehend how it can be.

The ship, with my nanos entwined with its own, changes beneath Galen’s feet. It carries my reach beyond my human capacity and allows me to be there, seeping through the molecules beneath Galen’s feet, climbing into his legs, reaching deep inside to the programming that runs through him.

I am no longer me, no longer Serantha--human, female, queen.

I am ship, I am nano, I am Galen, I am metal, microtech, flesh and skin and everything all at once.

I race toward Galen’s mind, but he holds it beyond my reach. I cannot destroy the essence of him. I turn my efforts toward his physical form, but hard, unyielding hands grip my shoulder and try to pull me back and away from my connection to the ship.

Serantha!
A hundred Elite stand between Nic and me, all moving toward me, converging upon me, all intent on severing my interface with the ship.

My consciousness is ripped from Galen.

“Humankind is striving to perfect itself,” Nic calls out. “To learn from the mistakes of the past in order to create a better tomorrow. What will your purpose be? What will drive your programming, then?”

My hands are ripped away from the ship and I am held, gasping, between two Elite, dozens more pressing against them, my back, my mind. I still have a clear view of Galen and so I see the moment he is freed from the ship and he shoots to his feet, then hurries to hide his reaction with an adjustment to his clothing. “I do not have programming, Rebel. I have a mind—just like you. No,” he paces the stage like a caged cat though he is noticeably less animated than before, “not like you. Because my mind is far superior to yours.”

I watch him, still breathless, still unable to make a reply. I avoid letting my gaze settle on the bodies that lie in a pool of blood.
Minn is not there. Minn is safe
, I remind myself. That thought, that hope is what finally brings me clarity.

“Are you certain you are not simply a program, acting out the will of another?” Nic has reached the stage and he places both hands on the surface. “We possess the same technology that makes your Mind so great—or have you forgotten?”

“You can’t be serious—what you have is a fraction of what I possess.”

“We also have the benefits of a human mind.”

“A human mind!” Galen scoffs and the crowd of androids laugh nervously. “A human mind is a liability, not an asset.”

“Really?” My voice is weak, and my arms tremble in the grasp of my captors. But the ship is still near, still waiting for my command. It responds immediately, projecting images from its database onto the walls. Images and video play out all around us, showing humankind at its best. Portrayals of love and service, kindness and hope. The Mind stare with stony faces and I don’t care enough to read their thoughts.

“Can you love, Galen?” I wait until his eyes meet mine, until he, in his limitless pride, nods at my captors. They release me and I resist the urge to rub at the bruises they have left behind. In moments they will be gone, anyway. I stride up to the stage and climb the stairs. “Can you serve another with no other purpose but to lift them? Encourage them? Help them?”

I look out at the Mind Elite. I feel like a queen then, in my ruined gown, my shining hair in Lily’s lovely style. The Crown that blazes beneath my skin—undeniable proof that my life has purpose and meaning and it all hinges on this moment.

“I don’t have need—”

I spin on Galen, shutting him off mid-argument and step up very close to him. I can feel Nic’s worry at my proximity, but I know my abilities, know Galen’s too. I know because he is a Servant, like Archibald, that somewhere deep inside of him that programming still exists. He can’t bring himself to directly harm me. He would have to order one of his soldiers to do it, but I will have time to shield against any of their attacks.

“You have no need for love and service, kindness and care.” I turn to the group. “Of course you don’t have need of those things. Because you’re not human.” A murmur of disagreement and anger rumbles through the crowd.

I command the ship to play my memories, the ones I have clung to and cherished during my long years in servitude—and the ones that Archibald restored to me.

I wait while the images on the ship’s walls show Archibald cradling me in his arms when I was a new babe. Tears spring to my eyes when I hear him sing a lullaby and place me gently into my crib.

Another image shows him teaching me to walk, and the look on his face—pure joy, like any natural parent—speaks volumes to what the Mind are capable of.

“The Creator gave you what you seek—he gave you a type of humanity in your programming.” I watch Archibald lift a small Sera into his arms and throw her high into the air, laughing at her squeals of delight. “Archibald loved me.” I look at the Elite, not trying to hide the tears that have gathered in my eyes, or how they now fall onto my cheeks. “And I loved him.”

Nic comes to stand beside me. Intermixed with the images of Archibald and me, I now see glimpses into Nic’s past, into his relationship with Natalya, his Servant. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he felt love for her—and that her betrayal cuts deep. But there was a time when she loved him. When she
Served
him. A time before Galen and his
Mind
.

“Archibald did not just pretend to love me. Our Exchange allowed him to feel what humans feel. To grow as humans grow. He never stopped loving me or trying to keep me safe—despite the Mind’s attempts to break him. He gave his life for me, because he loved me.”

I step forward and Nic comes with me, until we stand at the very edge of the stage. “The evolution of artificial intelligence is to become more human, not more
in
human. Don’t you see? Nic and I hold the key to
both
our futures. Hope for both our people lies in our unity, our DNA.”

I let my gaze settle on the people closest to me—the Mind Elite, the ones who wish to destroy us. “Without humans, you are only pretending at humanity.”

In this moment, Galen has the power. He can accept that what I’ve said is true, or he can continue to press for the destruction of humankind. And so I wait. And hope.

The connection between Nic and me sizzles, like energy is building, humming along the invisible string that Binds us. Something is happening, changing. The ship responds to the sudden tang of alarm and in moments I know I am not imagining it. In every face in the sea that stares back at me I see the silver filaments in their eyes sparking, see the code, the commands, as surely as if they are painted in the sky above my head.

But Nic and I are faster. He shoves Galen toward me and I grasp his neck in my hand. I shove my other arm outward, fingers spread wide and urge my command to be carried outward, into the waiting crowd. While Nic fights off the Elite and soldiers that try to break me away from Galen, I merge my command string with the ship and find her, again, to be a willing ally. I resume what I had begun with Galen, seeking his flesh, his physical processors so that I can shut them down, while the ship copies my commands and sends them into the air. The virus I create is disseminated among the gathered Mind almost as quickly as I devise it.