The lights flicker and cower as I pass, glowing fronds dimming to sullen reds. I stride past wheezing vents and the watching eyes of the Complex – some electronic, some not – every centimetre of my three-meter frame the imposing bio-knight. My armour murmurs soothingly at me, attempting to ease my temper. It can't, and with a thought I forbid it to release any calming hormones into my blood. I also forbid it from talking. It talks with her voice. If I still had skin, it would crawl every time it spoke.
The lack of other people strikes me, and I realise the Complex must have diverted them out of the way of me and my black mood. The price of being defective: mood swings and violent outbursts. It can't be long before they override my armour, either, and pump me so full of serotonin and tranquillisers I can do nothing but lie still and gurgle happily.
I turn a corner, my armour's chitin scraping against that of the walls', and am confronted with one of the organic drones the Complex favours for menial tasks. It stands in the centre of the corridor, and behind it the light-fronds seem to stand taller, taking courage from it's presence.
“Bio-Knight Seven Four, the Complex recommends you return to quar-” I seize around the tiny, misshapen head, compound eyes popping beneath the force of my grip, and hurl the wretch effortlessly down the hall. It hits the ground hard, and bounces past a row of doors, leaving a trail of acrid-smelling psuedoblood. I continue forward, and when it has recovered enough to open it's mouth I'm close enough to drive an armour-plated leg through it's skull, hard enough to leave a crater in the superhard chitin tiles of the floor.
“Shut up, Complex.” I snarl, knowing it can hear me, and internally I howl at the unnatural, grating voice. “You stole something from me. Something important.”
I'm somewhat surprised when it replies – the Complex normally talks through it's servitors, like the deceased drone now oozing greenish slime onto the tiles.
“It was not a theft, Bio-Knight Seven Four. At the time, we faced the risk of losing all available resources, you included. The choice ensured optimum resource preservation against the Rotheid threat.” The voice was flat, neither male nor female, and had none of the ugly grinding groan of my own. “While we are sorry you had to suffer such a loss, it was necessary.”
Motion. More drones – combat ones, this time. “If you really think a pair of combat servitors can stop me, Complex, those brains of yours must be even more rotten than I thought.”
The Complex replies through the drones, both stunted mouths moving identically.
“We will see, Bio-Knight Seven Four.” they say mildly, and each of us draws our shiver swords.
They don't stand a chance. My shiver sword is a true one – knocked against time, so it quivers and shudders against the edge of reality. The drones have mass produced tripe – blades vibrating via tiny motors. Good against flesh, or weak materials like steel, but hopeless against the armour of a bio-knight. They lunge together, meat puppets with jerky movements, and my blade takes the arms off one with ease before I take it's head with the backswing. The second I bisect, and bisect again – four chunks of dull purple gore splatter against the tan of the walls, arms and legs still moving, mechanical shiver sword screeching on the walls.
More come from behind. More drones, and an actual Bio-Knight. Nine One Three. I could consider him a friend, as far as Bio-knights had them. We are identical in our insectoid carapaces, limbs slender and too long. His shiver sword is drawn, pointed down, and it keens softly at the smell of almost-blood that fills the hall.
“Seven Four,” he says cautiously, the eyes of his helmet glowing softly blue. I know mine would be a bright red, a simple way the Complex decided to show our emotions. Nothing could be hidden in the Complex. “You need to stop.”
“Do you know what they stole?” I hiss, lifting a fist to smash one of the light-fronds. It screamed softly, ignored as it died.
“I heard about them. But if the Complex hadn't done it, you would have all been taken. It had to get the biomaterial from somewhere-”
“Then the Rotheid could have taken us!” I roar. “It had no right to murder her! Especially... especially when it didn't even work right!”
“The anomalous result due to the particular DNA sequencing of your partner was unexpected and unique.” The drones for the Complex say. “Regardless, your cryo-area was forecast to be overrun in less than six hours, and a new knight was needed. You were optimal choice, and an preformed emotion connection is ideal when creating the armour.”
I grunt as my armour is finally given permission by the Complex, and dozens of chemicals begin their circulation into my bloodstream, to sedate me until the next time.
“Give her back,” I whisper, as my knees go weak, and I sink with a clang to the floor. “Give me back my wife.”
The last thing I hear for a long, long time, is the Complex.
“It was for the greater good, Bio-Knight Seven Four.” There was almost human emotion in it's flat voice when it added three words.
“We are sorry.”
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Topic: ___/The Writer's Apprenticeship\___ (Read 313958 times)