Syndicate's Pawns (2 page)

 

Part 1

DECEPTION'S DIALOGUE

 

CHAPTER 1

JESSIE

The more time I spend in this world, the more I come to learn and appreciate the value of words. The power and magic they can possess. One day you will hold this book with these words in your hands. They will survive this crude mortal form that transcribed them. And yet none of this compares to the true immortality gained when one produces life.

—­Icarius Odenshaw,
Alexandran scholic and pilgrim,
13th of SSM–10 1166 A1E

17th of SSM–11 1445A2E

“T
en minutes more,” Doctor Marla Varsin called out in her strangely accented English as Jessie willed her left leg to move forward. Her body was trembling with effort, her leg muscles screaming in agony. Jessie let out a frustrated growl as she leaned heavily on her arms. Doctor Varsin had rigged two metallic poles along a slow-­moving treadmill, and Jessie had been walking in place for what felt like hours.

During her last session with Marla Varsin, Jessie had managed to walk in place for thirty minutes before her muscles had all but given out on her. She had then collapsed, and were it not for the support bracers presently fastened snugly around her waist, she would have been unable to stop her fall. She looked up past Marla Varsin to the digital timer on the wall behind her. While Jessie was still unable to fully recognize the red numbers on it, she knew that when they flashed green her previous record would be bested.

The rest of her body felt like it was on cold fire right now. It was a month after her awakening and she still couldn't shake the bone-­deep chill she felt. No matter how bundled up she was, Jessie just couldn't seem to get warm.

Jessie strained to keep her legs moving and knew that they were struggling just to support her. It was disheartening. Marla Varsin, short and reed-­thin, was no more than three steps away from Jessie. Yet that distance could have been the size of the Pacific for all it mattered. Every part of Jessie was begging her to sit back down; her arms and shoulders had started to tremble as well.

Marla Varsin saw this and was about to walk toward her.

“I can do this!” Jessie shouted, stopping Varsin in her tracks.

Varsin shot her a concerned look. “Fall on your part risks child safety.”

Jessie flashed Marla Varsin a frustrated look. “My breasts are tender, I feel nauseated and I pee three times a night. I don't need to be reminded that I'm pregnant.”

Jessie let out an outraged roar and pulled her left leg forward, then her right. She refused to give up as she glared at the timer, willing the numbers to turn green. Doctor Varsin applauded as Jessie kept walking in place. And just like that the numbers on the counter went from red to green. Jessie immediately let her body go limp as the wires in her bracer went taut like a seat belt, supporting her as she floated inches above the ground, enjoying the incredibly relaxing feeling of weightlessness. After a few minutes, Marla Varsin handed Jessie her crutches and made sure she was fully supported on them before undoing her bracers. It was a comfort for Jessie to realize that she could, despite all this effort, still safely lean on her crutches.

“Very good progress shown.” Marla Varsin led Jessie to the operating table and helped her on it before handing her a silver canteen of water. Jessie emptied it in one heavy gulp.

“I can't stay in this state forever.” Jessie winced as she laid herself back.

“Not a concern you should be having,” Varsin replied as she proceeded to massage Jessie's sore legs. Her grip was firm, warm and welcome comfort to the endless cold numbness she felt all over her body. Jessie had asked the doctor when this would end. To which Varsin had replied that she had no way of knowing. Her knowledge of criotubes and the technology from Jessie's time along with any of their side effects was nonexistent.

Jessie studied Varsin closely as she went about her task. The doctor had short graying hair with several streaks of winter white and a dour look to her. She was Kelthan and her appearance was the most familiar to Jessie. Of the new species that populated the universe, the Kelthans were the ones who resembled the Humanity as Jessie remembered it from her time of 2205 AD. Or what was now collectively known as the Lost History of her entire civilization.

Doctor Varsin's skin was of an odd shade of pale grey. Her eyes, like most of the Kelthans she had met, although that had been limited to Varsin, Captain Morwyn and his pilot Lizbeth Harlowe, were almond shaped and in Varsin's case they were a dark earth brown. Her lips were full and her face lined. Jessie could not help but think that Varsin would have been quite lovely in her youth.

Jessie sighed a relaxed sigh as Varsin massaged the tension out of her shoulders and arms. These regular daily sessions of physiotherapy were something Jessie looked forward to. They helped take her mind off the unsettling truth that she was not only light years away from Earth, her home—­now called Terra—­but that she was effectively alone in the cosmos. There were no other humans. But there was also no time to wallow in self-­pity when she had a task to focus on—­regaining her strength.

“Your hands are like magic, Doctor Varsin.” Jessie closed her eyes as the pain of today's session melted away.

“I do not understand that particular word.” Marla Varsin paused. “Am I causing harm?”

Jessie shook her head. “It's just a . . . never mind, you weren't hurting me.”

Marla Varsin carried on with her task. The two of them were on the medical bay of the
Jinxed Thirteenth
. Inside were over two-­dozen copper-­colored cylinders. These were the carbon tubes, where the rest of the inactive crew was presently being kept in suspended animation. This was in order to preserve the ship's limited life-­support systems. From Jessie's understanding, these sleeping men and women had been the ones to rescue her from her prison on Moria Three.

The captain had suggested they place Jessie in one of those tubes. It was Doctor Varsin who had argued against it, not really knowing what the effects would be on Jessie or her unborn fetus. The captain had conceded, remitting her to the care of Doctor Varsin and the Machina construct named Chord. They were to keep Jessie out of the way while the ship's engineers went about the task of repairing the
Jinxed Thirteenth
from its battle with OMEX.

And so Jessie's day-­to-­day routine had been spent on physical therapy followed by linguistic lessons with Chord. It was infuriating to be unable to perform the basic task of communicating with someone else. Of course there were language softwares on the
Jinxed Thirteenth
, but all of them relied heavily on the Pax Common alphabet, which just this week Jessie had managed to grasp. She was also beginning to get a basic understanding of words like “hello” and “how are you doing?” This, ­coupled with her desperate need to catch up on what appeared to be over seven thousand years of Covenant history and culture, had managed to keep Jessie fully occupied.

She had about seven to eight months to learn as much of the languages, cultures and new histories as she could. Then it would be on Jessie to teach her daughter how to fend for herself. Because she had been down the road of machine dependence and had already lost too much because of it.

J
essie was thankful that today she could make her way down the halls of the
Jinxed Thirteenth
on her crutches. After each session of therapy Jessie could feel her legs and body getting a little stronger. The pain in her muscles was welcome against the cold.

“You will only need a cane soon.” Marla Varsin's tone was proud and friendly as the two of them stepped into the cantina. There were three tables bolted to the floor and a tiny kitchen space in the corner of the room. There they found Chord, patiently waiting for them. The Machina was silently staring out one of the portholes, observing the blue and green gas giant of Moria, which they were now currently orbiting. Jessie made her way over to Chord and sat herself down, keeping a respectable distance from it.

Chord's frame was humanoid in shape: two arms, two legs and a head. Its face was composed of a polymorphic metal, which was fashioned into the semblance of a face, two blank eyes, a nose and lips. When Chord saw them enter the cantina, its “lips” moved up into what appeared to be a smile. Although whether the construct before Jessie actually felt the emotion or was just imitating a smile to comfort her, was unclear.

“Jessie Madison, you look like you could use rest. This unit recommends that we postpone the day's lesson.”

Jessie refused to accept rest. Yes her mind was overloaded with data, and she was tired, exhausted, really, but she needed to learn. “I've slept enough, Chord.”

Chord placed something that looked like a palm-­sized flashlight with various buttons onto the table in front of her. “This unit wishes to give you a gift, Jessie Madison. It believes that this will help you in your continuing education.”

Jessie gave the black cylinder a curious look. “What is it?” She picked it up and examined her present more closely.

“It is a codexicon.” Chord pointed to a button at the bottom of the codexicon. A light flickered on and the projection of what appeared to be some sort of computer screen appeared in front of her. “It contains all the data stored inside this unit's memory matrix.”

Jessie was happy to realize that she could recognize letters and navigational commands on the projected screen. In her hands was a veritable encyclopedia. This was indeed one of the best gifts anyone could have given her. She did not say anything. Had Chord been a human being, she no doubt would have been thankful.

“That is very kind of you, Machina Chord,” Marla Varsin said, breaking the uneasy silence and attempting to mask Jessie's apparent faux pas.

“There is no need to say anything. This unit understands that part of Jessie Madison's learning process will require her to do so without assistance.”

Marla Varsin left the two of them alone in the cantina. Chord started projecting various holographic letters from its left hand. The right hand, Jessie had noted, was missing three of its fingers. The rest of Chord's body was smooth and polished an almost pearly white except for a large brown metallic plate that had been welded onto the chest.

According to Doctor Varsin, Chord had suffered these “injuries” while assisting with Jessie's rescue. Three other members of the
Jinxed Thirteenth
had been injured as well. Two of them were in carbon sleep. The third one was a Wolver by the name of Phaël, whom Jessie had barely seen since her awakening. She had spent most of her time sneering at Jessie and giving her hateful looks and kept well away from her, as if Jessie were somehow infected with some sort of disease.

When Jessie had asked Marla Varsin about this, she had explained that many of the Wolvers reviled the works of Ancient Humanity, claiming that it was their hubris that had brought about the Lost War. It was a war in which Humanity had battled Machines and lost. What had followed for the descendants of Humanity was thousands of years under the cruel rule of the false machine god known as the Pontifex.

“Repeat the letters as they are called out to you,” Chord politely instructed, in its electronic monotone.

“Yes.” Jessie repeated the letters back to Chord. The latter corrected her whenever she was wrong and congratulated her whenever she was right. All of this was on cue, as if Chord were following a preprogrammed lesson plan.

An hour into the lesson, Chord was now naming the myriad galactic nations that made up the Covenant while highlighting them on the holographic projection of a stellar chart. Jessie could feel her mind slowly start to wander. All of this was very overwhelming for her and she was shocked to see how far the borders of Covenant Space stretched.

OMEX had told her, back on Moria Three, that all of Humanity had been eradicated, that machines had risen up against their former masters and won. However, here she was in the depths of space amidst her descendants. Where Humanity had once been a single species, there were now five: Wolver, Kelthan, Thegran, Darlkhin and Kohbran. Six if one chose to include the offspring of machine Intelligences: the Machina.

Jessie wasn't too certain what her thoughts and feelings on that particular topic were. One thing was clear to her: she did not like Chord, not one bit, and it angered her that this artifice was her only reliable source of information.

This was also what was fuelling her desperate need to break the language barrier she was presently facing. Marla Varsin had assured her that there had been peace between both Machina and Humanis bloodlines for thousands of years. Jessie didn't care. A machine mind had killed her husband, had tormented her and had done everything in its power to prevent both her and her unborn child from escaping Moria Three.

The thought of being in such enclosed space with this mechanical creature so soon after her ordeal sent shivers up her spine. Jessie, for all of her minimal efforts, still couldn't shake the feeling of mistrust she had every time she interacted with Chord.

“Jessie Madison is distracted?” Chord's question broke her train of thought. How long had she not been paying attention?

Jessie winced; perhaps it was time to just lie down and rest. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Chord rested its hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort.

“Don't you touch me!” Jessie pushed the hand away. Chord did not resist her. She glared into Chord's blank eyes. The lips on its face were straight. Had she somehow offended it?

“You are mistrustful of Chord because of past trauma. This unit understands that the experience faced at the hands of OMEX must have painted Machina in less than flattering colors.”

“I don't need a diagnosis.”

“If Jessie Madison desires to call an end to the day's lesson, that is quite acceptable.” This was delivered in Chord's infuriatingly polite mechanical tone.