The Combat Codes (35 page)

Murray wiped the sweat pouring off his brow. “How did Aon get in contact with you? He can barely make it out of the Lyceum.”

“Your Commander is more than meets the eye,” Zero replied. “There are not many Grievar, or even other Daimyos, that command the respect of our kind. Yet Aon Farstead is one of them.”

“Don’t know if I’d want the respect of your kind,” Murray replied. “And yes, I want to know what’s going on with the Sim. How can a Trial-taker, my kid Cego… How did he know it all so well?”

“The Sim. It’s been an asset to Mercuri’s Grievar program over the past decade; isn’t that so?” Zero asked.

Murray wished this brain in a jar would just answer his questions. He knew he needed to play its game, though. “The Training Sim lets our Knights practice more often without getting hurt. I’ll give you that much. But the Trial Sim is different. I’ve seen it break kids. Too many times, I’ve seen a kid come out of that thing and there just isn’t anything left. Like they’ve been burnt from the inside.”

“Some Grievar minds, especially those still developing, are not strong enough to recover from an immersed Sim experience. An unfortunate side effect,” Zero said dismissively. “But for the good of the nation, the Sim has improved Mercuri’s winning percentage; isn’t that so? Isn’t that what the Grievar at the Citadel wanted?”

Murray shook his head wearily.
For the good of the nation
, again with that. “Yes… that is what the Citadel wanted. But we both know the Citadel is being run by the Governance at this point, so really we’re talkin’ what you Daimyos wanted.”

“Semantics. Grievar fighting for Daimyos. Daimyos working for the Grievar. Though technically we are Daimyos, we bit-minders choose not to participate in such senseless politics,” Zero said. “It is beside the point; we designed the Sim programming to improve Mercuri’s win percentage, and that’s exactly what it did.”

Murray was growing tired of this runaround. “Your point?”

“You grow tired of me?” Zero said, as if reading Murray’s mind. “Your heart rate has slowed by four percent, while your pupils have diminished in size by two millimeters. Perhaps we should end this meeting.”

“No, no,” Murray backtracked. “I just want to know what happened to Cego.”

“As I was telling you. The first Sim, the Trainer, was designed to improve the Knights. The second Sim, the Trials, was made to test Grievar brood entering the Lyceum. The programs were certainly helpful, but they weren’t enough. Though Mercuri became more competitive, they weren’t dominating as they set out to do. That’s why there was a third Sim being tested simultaneously.”

Murray looked at Zero’s tiny purple eyes. He could feel his heart getting faster again. “Third Sim?”

“Yes. Something that would change the game entirely, not push a nation forward inches at a time like the other two Sims. Something that would give a nation the clear advantage, making their Grievar second to none. We called it the Cradle.”

Murray couldn’t help himself. “You Daimyos are always trying to make the Grievar better. Breeding programs, stims, and now the darkin’ Cradle. Call it what you will. When will you learn that it’s not some fancy new technology that makes a champion? It’s hard work, a warrior’s spirit, honor. Artemis Halberd, probably the greatest that has ever lived, he was born without training in any of your Sims,” Murray stated.

“Yes. Exactly the point, Murray Pearson. Artemis Halberd was born without any of the Sims. But he is a rarity. For every Artemis Halberd the Citadel produces, there are thousands of Grievar that are not champions. Mercuri’s wasted bits, resources, opportunities,” Zero said.

“Wasted?!” Murray yelled, his face up against the tube. “Do you know the kind of work our Grievar put in? The blood and sweat that soak the training mats every day? How the dark could you even understand?”

Zero was silent for a moment, staring at Murray as his breath steamed up the tube’s glass. “Now, there, does that feel better? Heart rate two hundred twenty, two hundred nineteen, two-hundred eighteen… I find it so strange how you beasts need to revert to fits of rage. Like some sort of pressure valve release. Are you ready for me to continue again?”

“Yes,” Murray said blankly. He was already so sick of this creature. He had to get what he needed and get out.

“As I was detailing before your fit,” Zero said. “That was the problem with the first two Sim programs. They were already too late. The Trials were designed to test young students entering the Lyceum. The Trainer was made to test Knights before they entered the Circle. But both were too late. They didn’t reach the Grievar until after the formative processes in their brains had already solidified—the wiring and chemistry that determine the difference between a run-of-the-mill Grievar Knight and a true champion. The Third Sim, the Cradle—it overcomes this problem. It starts its work at the very beginning. It will make every Grievar that goes through it a champion.”

“That’s impossible,” Murray said. “Distinct body types, multiple strengths and weaknesses, quality of the opposition—every Grievar is different.”

“Not impossible, Murray Pearson,” Zero said. “Statistically improbable, correct. However, with the Cradle, we cut out that statistical improbability.”

“Clearly, it’s not working,” Murray responded. “You say the program started over a decade ago? Kiroth’s still ahead of us. I don’t see champions being churned out of the Citadel in the droves…”

“Don’t you see?” Zero asked. “Of course you don’t. Your kind never sees what is truly in front of them. Grievar are always living second by second, getting thrown helplessly down the rapids of time. We bit-minders, we are able to step out of that stream of time and truly see cause and effect. Which is what the Cradle is—an experiment in time. It enables the Citadel to truly use time to their advantage—without any wasted years. But it requires patience. Just about thirteen years, in fact.”

“Thirteen years. Why does that…” Murray’s eyes widened.

“Cego was one of the Cradle’s first subjects. Birthed and raised from childhood within the Sim,” Zero said without inflection.

Somehow, in the back of his mind, Murray had known it. It all made sense now. Everything about Cego made sense. But that didn’t mean the words weren’t shocking to hear. How could the Citadel knowingly be part of a program like this?

“
How.
Tell me how they do it,” Murray said, his voice like ice. “Where do they keep the kids… the babies?”

“You were badly injured twenty-two years ago, Murray Pearson,” Zero said. “Severed vertebrae—you spent almost a year in the medward. You were in stasis. Do you remember that time?”

“No. What does that have to do with this?” Murray growled.

“The Cradle uses a similar protocol that the clerics use to put Grievar in stasis. Except the clerics run very base code to keep the brain occupied and working for such long periods of time while the body repairs. The Cradle is far more complex—it not only keeps the brain occupied, it enhances it.”

Murray thought about the Knight suspended in the gelatinous liquid in the medward. In a tube, much like Zero was floating in, right in front of his eyes. “You mean to say there are tubes of Grievar babies floating somewhere? You’re growing them like that?”

“Put in very simple terms that you can understand… yes,” Zero said.

Murray could feel his body trembling. How had it gotten to this? How could the very folk that he had fought for, given his lightpath for, be a part of something like this?

“Where… where are they kept?” Murray asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Unfortunately, I cannot disclose that particular bit of information, Murray Person,” Zero said. “Our assets are very valuable. Many nations have a vested interest in their proper development.”

“If Cego was one of the first… why’d I end up finding him clawing his way through some slave Circle in the Deep? Why wasn’t he being pampered at the Citadel, getting groomed to be Mercuri’s next champ?”

“Ah. And that’s how we’ve arrived at the present,” Zero said. “Cego was an anomaly. He was birthed into the Cradle before some newer modifications were made to the Sim code. There were certain… conditions included in the program that were determined to be superfluous to winning, which have since been cut out. Because of that, Cego’s lightpath was to be terminated, as we determined it was statistically improbable he would become a champion.”

“Terminated? Don’t darkin’ tell me you’re saying…” Murray growled.

“It’s all data, Murray Pearson; why can’t you see that? Whereas you see lives, we see numbers, statistics. Nothing more. In fact, a large percentage of our Cradle subjects are terminated before fruition.”

Murray was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“As I said—the Cradle is only made to produce champions. The perfect Grievar. Those subjects that are determined to have imperfection… well, they cannot be simply released into the world. They need to be wiped clean.”

“Why is Cego alive, then?” Murray heard himself ask. He felt like he could hear his voice from afar, a distant echo, as if he were floating in the vat beside the bit-minder.

“There was a glitch. The first version of the Cradle—it had some bad code, which we’ve since eradicated. Somehow, it shut itself down. It released Cego into the world. The real world. One he was never meant to live in.”

“And, as smart as you bit-minders here at the Codex think you are, as smart as the Governance and the Citadel thinks they are… none of you knew what happened to Cego, your
glitch
, until he walked right back into the doors of the Lyceum and took the Trials?” Murray asked.

Zero nodded.

Murray felt a knot form in his stomach. He’d brought Cego back to them. To the very folk who were planning on
terminating
the kid because he was some failed experiment. And now they knew. Memnon and Callen and the Governance politiks they were working for, they knew that their failed experiment had returned.

Murray had to get back to the Lyceum. Fast.

*

Dozer was holding pads for Cego, warming him up for his upcoming fight.

The Burning Fists were the first team the Whelps would need to get through, and Cego was going up against their captain, Gryfin Thurgood. Those who had faced Gryfin described it as akin to going up against an enraged Jadean bull, strong as the dark with an initial charge meant to take your head off.

Cego tried to throw a quick one-two combination, ducking under a looping roundhouse and following up with a swift body shot into Dozer’s padding. His left arm screamed with pain as his fist made impact.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cego checked on the prep work of the other two Whelps set to fight in the first round.

Abel was warming up with Joba, leaping in to fire a series of quick punches and kicks and then springing back out of range. They’d selected the little Kirothian to go up against Mos Aberdome, the Fist’s resident power puncher known for his notoriously thick skull. Abel’s game plan had been meticulously mapped out, just like the Whelps had done for every other upcoming fight today. He’d use his superior speed to jump in and out of Aberdome’s striking range while peppering him with leg kicks to sap his punching power.

Mateus Winterfowl was practicing quick sprawls as Sol shot in on him.

“That the best you got?” the purelight said as he threw his legs backward to fend off Sol’s double-leg. Sol smiled and deftly swooped in again, this time transitioning to a quick single-leg and putting Mateus on his back.

The Whelps had selected Mateus to go up against the Burning Fist’s weakest member—Jozlyn Fritz. Fritz was known for her highly technical grappling ability, but the girl had shown holes throughout the semester in her standing game. If Mateus could prevent the takedown, he’d be able to pick Fritz apart on the feet. Cego had warned Mateus about being too cocky, though—underestimating any opponent today would be a serious misstep.

Just as Cego threw another combo, he noticed a familiar blocky form emerge from around the corner of the prep room. Murray-ku.

Murray smiled as he took the pads from Dozer and continued with Cego’s warm-up, just as he’d done numerous times in the barracks. Murray turned the pads to face the ground as Cego responded with a series of uppercuts.

“Thurgood. He’s going to bring you into a clinch war; you know that, right?” Murray asked Cego.

“Yeah. I suspected as much,” Cego said. “I’ve seen him do it to other kids.”

“Use your dirty boxing, like this,” Murray instructed as he yanked Cego’s neck in and held one pad on the inside. Cego threw a series of uppercuts and body shots into the pad, grimacing as his left elbow buckled again.

“You all right?” Murray asked.

“Yeah… just a little stiff,” Cego lied. He couldn’t worry about his injury going into this.

“You’ll want to go for a takedown after he wears you down in the clinch. Get the fight to where you feel comfortable. Don’t do that,” Murray said.

Cego looked at Murray quizzically.

“You need to show him you’re fine in the clinch, because that’s his best weapon. Once you take that away from him, he won’t have anything left for you. Then you can break him,” Murray said.

Cego nodded. Classic Circle strategy. Fire with fire.

“Don’t forget your inside knees, too,” Murray said, prompting Cego to throw sharp knees into the pad.

“Speaking of knees,” Murray said, as he swiveled Cego around. “Is that who you’re doing this for? Either that or you’ve taken too many hits to the head… Three challenges in one darkin’ day!”

Cego stayed silent as he continued to mix in body punches and knees.

Murray nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “They’ll keep telling you not to do things like that. After all, it’s not in the interest of your lightpath. You’re taking a risk.”

Cego pushed Murray out and launched a quick teep into the pad before shooting in for a single-leg. Murray half sprawled, letting Cego stand, before pulling him back into the clinch.

“They’ll tell you not to take those risks. Do things for the
greater good
. Forsake the Codes,” the old Grievar said the last part with spite, tossing Cego backward.