Machine, page 17
part #1 of The Peradran Legacy Series
“Before I accept your instrument of death, I must stress my Oath of Honor...” His voice trailed off while Ciltia remained fixed on her authority.
“Your Oath is to serve me, unscrupulously.” Her eyes narrowed, defying further reproach.
“As you wish my Lady.” He accepted the dagger and slipped it into his sleeve.
Satisfied, Ciltia raised her chin and smiled.
Makad had known Ciltia since she was a child. Born into royalty as Second Princess to her father the good King Aubryll. Makad was barely thirty years old then, a recruit in the King's Palace Guard.
Spoiled and quite trying, Princess Ciltia managed to disobey every one of her nursemaids and several ranks of the Royal Guards by simply being curious. It was her fascination with the thousands of seemingly useless rooms of the Castle. Each wing rested in a separate tree, each designed by a distinct Sect of the Shapers Guild. The entire Castle spanned ten of the most massive Cyrc'tyr; the palace grounds rested nearly four hundred feet above the dirt amongst the limbs, and halfway to the peaks of the most ancient forest of the central plains.
Parts of Cyrc'tyr Castle had lived for ten millenia. Other, newer additions lived mere centuries. Her father Gor Kaizth’On wasn't much for remodeling, making only two additions during his nine century reign. Neither addition was “in-built” enough to be added on to yet. The Sanctum was; the limbs that supported its walls had been crafted so subtly into the architecture, determining where nature had been independent and the intricate murals began is by some considered to be an art unto itself.
She had failed twice before to find Emperor Dw’ya's all but forgotten sanctum. Where from her father salvaged a handful of priceless paintings. Each one depicting a member of Dw’ya's family. Most remembered by her was the image of First Lord Zaxio, the oldest of his siblings and the only son. His portrait mesmerized her. He stood, clad in the formal dress of First Lord; higher in authority than Prince or General, second only to Dw’ya.
In his time, Humans were nothing more than savages, scattered about Peradra eating raw meat. For her was the time when Lalgoræ and Humans shared Peradra. Lalgoræ remained superior in the Arcane Arts and keeping those skills sacrosanct inspired more than one battle. More and more the Humans returned for more, using stolen magic against Elvinkind. If only she could raise an army such as Zaxio's.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BY DESIGN
Inside PPT, Conference Room Two, a meeting regarding Kevin Connor was taking place. Kevin was not present, he was electronically sedated in Lab Five; his new home.
Alan Jerring was addressing Theodore Panopolis. His evaluation of Kevin's status had the attention of every department, barring the presence of two out of four potential Void Pilots. Their empty chairs remained at the table, unused.
“So you see, his condition has deteriorated steadily. At present he is sedated full time, if he were not...” Alan pushed the play button on a hand held recorder and set it on the table.
Distorted noises flowed over the Science Panel. Metal on metal mixed with disjointed vocalizations. Baleful lamenting, synthetic and meaningless, accompanied by frantic barks of distorted emotion. The mechanical servo response time was the source of a constant high pitched tone that flowed in and out between verses.
Alan stopped the tape. “There is a reason. As this video will explain.” He cued a remote camera and the lights dimmed. He stood and stepped aside as a screen came to life behind him. On it was the two dimensional image of Kevin's profile. The display split to show his profile and face together. The images were overlaid with rendered three dimensional likenesses. Simultaneously the images changed to reveal the next layer, rendered as if layers of the surface were removed instantly.
The digitally enhanced cutaway was surrealistic. The metal shell of the helmet, the space in the padding and Kevin's skull were all meshed together as one component. Around his face and brain biomechanical bone and flesh preserved all that was left of his Humanity.
The next layer revealed itself. Circuits were laced throughout the living tissue. Bio-alloys have replaced most of the neural matter. The shared result was recorded on the tape Alan just played.
The simulation progressed until half of each image was removed then stopped.
“This data was accumulated from numerous high band scans. There are similar images detailing his entire anatomy.” Alan paused as if a request might precede his next statement. There was none.
“During the past twelve days the fusion has continued to advance. This data specifically is the most recent. We foresee the end result to be much like that of Mission One. With the exception concerning Kevin Connor. Conventional sedatives do not work any more. We have isolated a specific electromagnetic wavelength that neutralizes his cognition, rendering him inactive.
“As yet there is no theory that might save him from complete transformation.” From somewhere rarely visited Alan embellished his final comment. “I pray that Science might gain from this – the second manned Mission into the Void.”
“Alan, I know your staff is competently working to save Connor. Let's discuss what we have concerning Mission Three.” Theo passed a glance toward the remaining Pilots, who seemed to shrink away from his notice.
He produced a manila folder and lay it open before him. Adjusting his bifocals he read aloud from the highlighted text therein.
'...[the] modified nuclear power plant designed into Support Suit Two provides equal voltage to that of the Void Field Generator.' He scanned the assemblage for those responsible for this information. Hesitant eyes met his.
“I designed the Void-field generator fifteen years ago. Today an equivalent power source is now portable. We did it together. All of us.” He passed his glance over the panel. In turn each member pacified their own judgments. His 'compliment face' expression was flawless.
He returned his attention to the folder, now in his hands. He removed a photo and placed it out on the table. It immortalized Kevin's re entry through the Veil.
He motioned for certain Panel members to submit their latest figures concerning recent events. He accepted each in turn and opened the one that detailed the mysterious energy field in the isolation chamber, which effected my own unwitting departure.
'...[The] foreign energy field as recorded, exists on a parallel modulation to our own Void field.' He continued, quoting from the same file. 'The nature of the anomaly dictates that it did not lead to the Void. ...[If] the digital analyses are correct the transitory energy field could be reproduced and maintained, possibly leading to a living dimension akin to our own.' Those of the Science Panel not enlightened to such information muttered agog to their fellow scientists. Theo arranged the various files before him, passively.
Looking up from the page Theodore Panopolis cleared his throat and began his description of the purpose of Mission Three.
He didn't blurt it out but guided his words carefully thorough, quoting highlighted text at the nonplused Science Panel.
“PPT has, in the past represented all that science could be. I – we have accomplished that and more. Further, our development of each generation of Support Suit provides the entire world with many conventional benefits. 'Specializing subsequent designs may insure safe passage to and from the Void ...[and] animated stasis could periodically be induced so that the consequent benefits be gleaned.'
“Our objective lies on two planes; determine the properties of the potential 'living dimension' and analyze any connection to the Void. 'Due to the unique physics of the Portal, its duplicate can only exist in its geophysical origin.'“ The level of awareness went up a notch because everyone not in that conference was making the necessary modifications.
The isolation chamber alone remained intact. Theo was pushing hard to make time though few believed his reason involved genuine concern for my welfare.
The Suit was his godchild. A creation of the Void. Designed so specifically, programmed solely, to function within the Void.
To get it back he designed a microchip with an independent power source. In it was a radio-programmable synaptic override capable of neutralizing Kevin's cognition and giving him 'Virtual' human response patterns. His remarkable recovery will even have a motive; pre-recovery amnesia. He thought of it as a digital Blessing, sparing his second son the memory of his origin. The microchip need only be exposed to the void and implanted near Kevin's hippocampus; a section of the brain that is partly responsible for processing incoming stimuli.
Individually exposing the microchip to the Void would insure its purpose would not be altered by Kevin's progressive mutation. Ultimately he would become the most advanced cyborg imaginable. With one discrepancy; no way to switch him on. That was what the microchip was for.
* * * *
The microsurgery was complete and the inhibitor frequency was disabled. A real-time scan converted sonic energy into an anatomical survey of the progressive transformation. The image was magnified a hundred times.
Microscopic bioalloys coaxed living neurons to send and receive impulses from the microchip. Inactive neurocircuitry was ever changing. Flesh, metal, plastic and bone were absorbed into one another.
At first the microchip seemed an island in the surf. Its tiny conductors, clamped to both living tissue and biomechanical matter, were designed to adapt slightly to the transformations.
They were uploading the details of Mission Three while running the scan.
Alan watched as the microchip was absorbed. Instantly the Machine was actualized. Theo's heart raced as he watched his remote control panel.
The restraining bands were apparently no match for It. For those who watched the moment as it dragged through time, the image was burning deeply into their memories. It moved with unearthly precision, faster than fingers on a keyboard. Faster than the fail-safe in the inhibitor frequency. It slammed into the two inch glass loosening a barrage of razor sharp projectiles. Alan and those in the booth stood or fell bleeding, clutching their wounds. Its armored brow the nucleus of an impression mapped with cracks that gleamed ominously in the afterglow of its function.
Before anyone could react at all It smashed down the door. Free and moving with extraordinary speed, the program became absolute.
It knew where the isolation chamber was, It remembered that and...Pain! It bellowed and tried to hold Its head in Its hands but failed – the metallic skin had limited flexibility. The metal hands shook uncertainly. Bent at the waist and stomping chunks out of the floor It roared with Its inhuman voice.
Theo was trying to implement the microchip to regain control. In vain he typed commands but too much of the microchip was absorbed for his efforts to be effective.
With unbridled rage It fought to continue. Its first objective was to reach the Portal.
It smashed through a wall to the stairway raining debris on a spellbound squad of security guards. They hoisted their weapons and opened fire. The bullets sparked as they hit but only drove It further into a frenzy. Those unfortunate enough to block Its path were brutally tossed aside stunning or killing the entire squad. The path was clear.
The pain had subsided, It moved faster toward Its destination. As a general alarm sounded It entered the wide access hall to the isolation chamber. More security lined up behind It as It neared the control booth door. Their shots fell true but were ignored, there was no vulnerability.
It felt the hot lead spread on its metallic skin before careening away. It ripped the steel door off the hinges and tossed it at the persistent security squad. The projectile gouged the left wall and went into a spin, taking four marksman with it before lodging itself in the right wall.
The control room had no window and everything inside was essential, except for the technicians of whom were persuaded to leave hastily, not being of any immediate danger. Two out of three techs died consequently from itchy trigger fingers.
Digital signals performed as the Machine complied verbatim to Theo's design.
When the Portal sprung to life, technicians fled the isolation chamber coming face to face with the Machine. Without repose they were dispatched, Its amplified voice echoing with derangement as the isolation chamber door began to slide shut. It charged, wedging itself between the armored door and reinforced concrete frame. Hydraulic pistons whined laboriously to seal the chamber. Cybernetic vigor resisted the only challenge not programmed into Its synapses. The Portal beckoned Its very existence.
From somewhere, hidden deep within, formed an apprehensive sense of defeat. The signal reached out against its foe. Strain appeared on the human face, biomechanical fluid began to discharge near the root of tiny conductors under the skin. Metal scraped against stone as It inched Its way toward salvation.
Traits of a typically cognitive nature played their chaos on Its soul. An inward struggle between logic and emotion began. Desperation and fear built up and were released in the form of synthesized orchestrations of impossible variations. Blindly It fought with cybernetic endowment to attain freedom. Freedom...and...
Begrudgingly, stone gave way to biomechanical Void enhanced cybersteel. The chamber door slid shut before a security guard armed with a hand rocket launcher could take a bead. The Portal shimmered with life and would continue to do so until deactivated. The Machine ventured forth without precaution and vanished into the first gate to exist on Earth to a living dimension.
Theodore Panopolis witnessed the event via remote, helpless yet satisfied. His microchip was a success, so much so. His Suit designs and the Void were a matched set. Destined to coexist in a nonexistence reality, to take mankind to the boundless peripheries of the dimensional multiverse.
There was much he did not understand about his brainchildren and their progenic origin. Even less about the mysterious Portal and its origin. Duplicating it was deviously simple. Algorithmic parallels between the Void field and the Portal suggested that the Void nonexisted as a dimensional foundation. Establishing firm ground for Mission Four.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OF ALL PLACES
I sat contented in the library, browsing random tomes for illustrations that might extend my knowledge of the physics of the Peradran dimension. To find the intrinsics that were its connection to logic.
Even choosing books from different shelves revealed a common note within them all; the reality of Arcane forces. Most common were manuals on mass warfare, depicting the few opposing the many. The results were implied in favor of the few and the one; the Wizard.
Arranging into stacks those volumes I thought to be written or printed for the purpose of explaining the natural sciences I imagined were immaleable to both dimensions. The stack consisted of three books. The first illustrated maps of the stars and planets. On a solar scale Peradra behaved much like Earth, with the geospacial differences explained to me by Cohiri. What little there was in the second contained rough and likely ancient sketches of what lay beyond the solar system of Peradra. In short, ancient Lanthorians, most likely Lalgoræ postulated that their outer space was the cosmic sea, occupied by nothing more than the island of stars visible to the naked eye. Detailed as they were, by luminosity, color and estimated distance, none possessed those properties hospitable to life as it was known to either dimension.
The third pick was an amazing insight into the microscopic realm. Elaborate blueprint images footnoted with foreign script depicted simple compounds and their components. Atomic structure was shown to be surprisingly accurate, explaining visually the presence of the particles that formed electrons, protons and neutrons. The particles were named somewhere in the endless Peradran script. Mentally I formed the appropriate phonetics but remained unable to connect them to the applicable symbols.
Determined to grasp a single word of script I decided to enlist Cohiri as translator. I hefted the book on atomic theory and made for her room. Halfway up the stairs the unmistakable presence of the Void overwhelmed me almost immediately. Keenly aware of that place inside me where the Void had left its signature I lost contact with my surroundings.
A moment drifted by and I was back, not on the stairs but ambling along side Cohiri through the seemingly useless rooms. I righted myself and Cohiri broke into a rolling Peradran dialogue. Her voice barely reaching me through the haze of being mentally projected into the Void and back.
“Something followed you here and they were forced to...” Cohiri screamed as an incredible beast leapt over our heads. It had four powerful legs, the front two were longer than the hind legs and hooked claws protruded from sinuous feet. Atop its massive front shoulders, in place of a neck and head rested what looked like a massive membrane, covered with much of what looked like pale runny blood. The beast was totally hairless and bleach white in color. Before it landed behind us it vanished. Cohiri pulled on my arm to continue.
“That was one of them. There are three more in the summoning chamber barely holding there own and Morbannon needs time to augur proper magic's. They said that you might be able to help.” She looked at me with wary eyes, as if my being able to do so would be a disturbing thought.
We rounded the corner of the cramped stone hallway that led to the summoning chamber. The sounds of a thundering battle fell upon our ears. We cautiously advanced to the brass bound door. The shared awareness crept over my senses pushing the emptiness of the Void out of notice.
The impact of something very heavy sent a slight tremor beneath our feet, the massive door shook in its frame. Cohiri cringed, something went through her like a cold steel spear. She feigned a resistive posture when my concerned glance met her own. She pushed open the door. An eerie silence lay within.
The curtained partition lay in tatters about the floor. The Suit was no longer within the circle instead it was at the base of the far wall, contorted and prone. The ominous presence of the Void became manifest once more.
Then in a voice that was vitriolic and joyless with a metallic echo, came from a shadow behind the glow of a tinted window. It was Kevin's voice. Not his human voice but the cyborg recreation of it.
