Arthros

  Psychosomatic Output: 10,000 Bio-units

  Synaptic Rank: Unbound

  The laboratory was a small room, but large enough for two Hokkonians to stand comfortably. It was brightly lit, with a padded chair in the middle and a countertop that ran along the perimeter. Beneath the countertop was storage for any medical supplies and chemical compounds needed for a long journey.

  On the countertop sat a large synthesizer, capable of printing physical materials, as well as any chemical compounds not already stored.

  There was a single entrance, which Arthros stormed through with Jericho in his arms.

  “Taking recruits against their will already proved to be ineffective.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  He let him drop into the chair and strapped down his legs and arms.

  “Did you injure him?

  He looked at the slumped human, with his mouth hanging half open and one eyelid fluttering.

  “No.”

  Jericho groaned, and a string of drool fell from his bottom lip.

  “Head trauma, maybe.”

  Arthros twisted the metal ring he wore on his middle finger. A holographic image of a globe appeared, like the one on his desk and the navigation console. This one was much smaller, and more personal.

  “Head trauma? Did you forget that the test takes place within the brain matter?”

  He ignored her. What he had to do needed to be done before Jericho regained consciousness. After a few brief manipulations of the floating globe, he found the information he was looking for. He snapped his wrist back and jerked his hand forward. Instantly, the holographic orb changed into an image of a small vial filled with smoke like vapor.

  “Do we have this compound?”

  “Of course we do. The ship was stocked only a cycle ago.”

  Arthros shot a look at Jericho, “Synthesize it for me please.”

  “But what about his head injury–”

  “I’ll take care of it. I need that tahlditi synthesized first.”

  “Yes Arthros.”

  He clacked the tips of his teeth together. He couldn’t shake the nagging doubts, but it had to be done. The integrity of the test was all that mattered, and the tahlditi would have no impact on his other talents.

  “Synthesized.”

  He stuck his hand in the compartment and pulled out the small vial. He raised it to his eyes and peered into it, giving it a small shake. The dense vapors swirled and liquified. Satisfied, he grabbed a syringe from the bottom cabinet and quickly installed it into the vial.

  “How much are you giving him?”

  “Enough to manipulate some recent memories.”

  He readied the needle at a vein in Jericho’s neck.

  “Which memories?”

  “The ones of the female.” He jabbed the syringe into the vein, and emptied the vial with a gentle push of his thumb. “Now let’s fix the fracture in his skull before we lose him.”

  —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Jericho

  Psychosomatic Output: 150 Bio-units

  Synaptic Rank: Unbound

  Consciousness was a dull, incessant pain. His head throbbed like he had taken a hammer blow to the temple. Why did he have to wake up? He had taken the nothingness of unconsciousness for granted.

  Ignorance is bliss.

  He slowly blinked his eyes open, and regret was immediate. The white light of the room seemed harsh enough to melt his eyeballs, and for a moment he swore someone filled his skull with needles.

  He groaned and tried to shield himself but found his hands were bound to the armrest. He tugged on the straps as panic quickened his heart rate. His memories seemed clouded, and the harder he searched, the greater the pressure behind his eyes mounted.

  “Welcome back,” a deep, cold voice said.

  The sudden noise made him jump and he winced as the bonds around his wrists and ankles bit into his skin. He squinted in the bright light but could only make out a dark shape in the doorway.

  “Back? What do you mean, what’s going on? Who are you?” His mouth felt dry, and his throat burned.

  The figure stepped forward. At the sight of his grey skin and hulking figure, he remembered a little more.

  “How much do you remember?” the alien asked with a curious expression.

  He asked the question like a scientist, and not a concerned by-stander.

  Did he do this to me? Arthros, the Hokkonian. A HWND pilot.

  “I remember you,” he croaked.

  “What else?”

  He licked his lips and was surprised at the metallic taste of blood. “I remember you were recruiting me; you said I’m unbound.”

  “Is that all?”

  He frowned and winced as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. “I was attacked and…Kyrin,” his eyes widened causing him to flinch. “Where is she?”

  Arthros crouched to bring his face closer. He wore a look of sympathy, but the cold light in his eyes betrayed just how unnatural the expression was.

  “Your friend is dead,” the alien seemed to study him for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  Arthros blinked, “She’s dead.”

  It can’t be true, she was fine. We got into an argument, and she left, but she was alive!

  “No, I don’t believe you,” Jericho muttered, trying desperately to wrack his brain for any information. “You’re lying.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  But why would he lie? He’s only here to help me. He didn’t even know about her.

  “There was nothing I could do; she was dead when I arrived.”

  “Arrived where? What are you talking about?” He wanted to tear his hair out, but the bonds kept his hands down. “She’s not dead, I was just with her.”

  Arthros folded his arms across his chest, “Process this how you will. I understand you were close.”

  “Shut up,” Jericho groaned. “Shut up! I was just with her! She’s fine. Take me back to her—I’ll show you.”

  A dark look passed across Arthros’ face, and his white eyes lit up with anger. The spines on his head quivered.

  “Be careful how you speak to me.”

  Jericho squeezed his eyes shut. This is a nightmare. I just need to wake up and I’ll be back in the Med Cente, lying in my bed. Kyrin will be there. She’s alive.

  He took a deep breath and let out a shaky exhale. “You saw her body?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know she was dead?”

  Arthros narrowed his eyes, “Even an animal can hear a heartbeat.”

  Jericho choked back a sob and shook his head. He didn’t want to believe it; he couldn’t believe it. Arthros could be wrong—maybe he made a mistake.

  He clung to that hope like a life raft in a typhoon. He was on the verge of drowning in an ocean of despair. He needed her reassuring touch; he couldn’t do this without her.

  “How did she die?”

  Arthros tapped the tips of his teeth together thoughtfully. His eyes studied him like he could read his mind, and for a moment, Jericho thought he might be able to. It was a vulnerable feeling, and he didn’t like it.

  “You went for a walk and were ambushed by other fighters.”

  “I don’t–” The memory of Dylan flashed back, and his stomach sank. He remembered the beating, the things they were trying to make him say. His face flushed with rage and he clenched his hands together so hard his knuckles cracked. His leg was broken, he couldn't have fought back, but Kyrin…

  “She wasn’t there; I was alone.”

  “You were unconscious. The girl was there when I arrived, and she tried to help. I saw him break her neck.”

  Grief stabbed him in the heart like a spike of ice. He had no idea if the alien was telling the truth, but something inside him was compelling him to believe. Why would he lie?

  You were knocked out, but he was there.

  “You were there…”

  Arthros nodded.

  “But you didn’t help her.”

  Arthros gave his head a slow, deliberate shake.

  “Why?” his voice cracked. He couldn’t breathe; couldn’t focus. “You watched her die.”

  The Hokkonian stepped close and bent to place a hand on his shoulder. His touch was gentle, but his eyes were cold and uncompassionate.

  “I understand that this is difficult for you. Humans and Hokkonians are similar in the emotions that they experience. But pilots learn to harden their hearts and overcome grief and despair.”

  “That’s not an answer. Did you let her die on purpose?”

  Arthros’ lips twitched, “No.”

  Jericho wanted to believe him, but a small voice was screaming at him not to. Yet, the longer he sat in that chair, staring into the Hokkonian’s face, the quieter those warnings became.

  “Okay,” he said finally.

  He saw his own haggard reflection in Arthros’ eyes. He felt sick.

  “Grief is debilitating. Do not let these emotions own you.”

  Jericho worked his jaw. He nodded his head and squeezed his eyes shut, bowing so Arthros couldn’t see the drops of tears on his cheeks.

  “It’s time for the test. I’m afraid we can’t waste any more time.”

  Jericho sniffed and swallowed hard, silently pleading with himself to pull it together. Kyrin would want him to do this.

  “What kind of test?” His voice was hoarse.

  Arthros opened a drawer and pulled out a silver test tube. “We call it an integration exam.” He grabbed a handheld device out of another drawer and attached it onto the test tube. “We need to make sure your brain can handle the strain of cohabitation.”

  “Cohabitation? Like something living inside me?”

  The Hokkonian’s lips twitched, “Precisely. The integration is the hardest part. Living beings are designed to reject foreign entities. Your immune system will react and attempt to dispatch the intruder.”

  “Intruder…” Jericho’s eyes widened at the device in Arthros’ hand. Attached to the test tube was a four-inch long needle. “Wait, you’re going to stab me with that?”

  The alien pointed to the back of his skull, “Yes, with precision. Right here.”

  A heavy hand was placed on his sternum as Arthros strapped his head to the back cushion, locking him in place.

  “What exactly are you putting into my head?”

  “An embryo,” Arthros said quietly as he walked around Jericho’s chair. “An unborn AI.”

  “Like a computer?”

  “With organic components. It will awaken in your brain matter and decide if you’re a suitable host,” Arthros muttered.

  “It will decide?”

  Arthros’ tone was distracted as he focused on the needle. “This is not an event you can control. This test is not for you, but the embryo. All you can do is pray to whatever god you believe in that you’re compatible.”

  Jericho swallowed and took a shaky breath, “And if I’m not?”

  “You’ll be rejected as a host, and the embryo will feed on your brain tissue. I will not be able to stop that process. Both you and the embryo will be of no use.”

  Arthros’ face appeared in front of his—sharp features devoid of emotion, yet his white eyes burned with a strange intensity. Jericho wished he could reach back behind his head and remove the needle that was now locked in place.

  “What happens then?”

  “I’ll be forced to dispose of your husk.”

  I think I’m going to puke.

  “Has that happened before?”

  Arthros straightened and crossed his arms across his chest, “Of course. AI integration was intended for Hokkonians only; you’re my thirteenth attempt.”

  I really am going to puke.

  Jericho’s stomach flopped, and his jaw went slack. The Hokkonian was insane—he had to be. Twelve other humans had their brains eaten and he thought it was okay to keep trying.

  “You’re crazy.”

  For the first time since he had met him, a smile threatened to crack Arthros’ stone-like features. “I was born crazy.”

  I’m going to die, this is it. Kyrin, I’m coming!

  Who was he kidding—he wasn’t a hero. He was a pit fighter. If he went back now, he could join another pit, solidify himself as a fighter, and maybe live for another couple of years.

  Pig-Chow was right—he wasn’t special.

  “Take me back. I don’t want to do this.”

  Arthros frowned, “It’s too late for that.”

  There was a sharp pain at the base of his head, and everything went black.

  ***

  When Jericho opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness. He tried to look around, but for some reason his head wouldn’t move, like it was frozen in place.

  He could feel the physical dilation of his pupils as he searched for any visible light. He was surrounded by the endless expanse of the void.

  What happened? How did he get here, in this strange place unable to move? He wracked his brain but couldn’t produce any memories. He had no answers, only the nagging sense that he was here for a reason.

  Of course, he was a smart guy. He wouldn’t get himself into this kind of situation without having a good reason. At least he thought he was a smart guy. Now that he thought of it, he didn’t know anything about himself. Who was he? Where was he?

  “Hello?” a tentative voice echoed all around him.

  Jericho froze. The voice sounded familiar, though he was sure he had never heard anything like it before.

  “Who’s there?” His own voice seemed to echo endlessly as it reverberated off ethereal walls.

  There was a slight pause before the voice responded.

  “I– I am AI,” the voice said, sounding hesitant.

  Jericho tried to see who was speaking, “Your name is AI?”

  “No…” the voice said again. “I don’t think I have a name. What is your name?”

  “Jericho.”

  “Hello Jericho,” the voice said, gaining confidence. “I am AI. I think I am here for you.”

  He felt a chill run through his blood, “Are you my friend?”

  There was another pause, “I don’t know.”

  Did that mean that the mysterious voice was here to hurt him? He couldn’t even move—how was he going to protect himself?

  “Where are we?” Jericho asked.

  “We are in your consciousness,” the voice said, now almost completely devoid of uncertainty. “I was created so that I would only be born in the consciousness of a partner.”

  That made no sense. “So, we’re partners?”

  “I think so.”

  There was another pause, this one so long that Jericho thought the voice had left. He waited for it to speak again, but the darkness made it too uncomfortable to keep quiet.

  “Do you want to be friends, AI?”

  “I don’t know yet; I am hungry.” The voice sounded more serious, more adult.

  The way it spoke made Jericho feel small. What did hunger have to do with friendship?

  “Hungry–” He let out a scream as pain lanced across his head, like sharp claws raking the tissue behind his eyes.

  “What is that?” He let out another scream as the pain grew more intense.

  “I am hungry, Jericho. What do you have to offer?” The voice shook the entire abyss.

  “I don’t know– What are you doing?”

  The pain doubled. It was debilitating. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even think.

  “I need to determine if we are compatible. I cannot exist within an inadequate mind.”

  He felt simultaneously cold and hot, while his mind suffered the constant barrage of attacks.

  “Please,” Jericho whimpered. “Just kill me.”

  The barrage stopped, and for a few glorious seconds the relief was almost intoxicating.

  “Why would I do that?” the voice asked. Its tone was flat and neutral, but Jericho was sure it sounded pleased. “You are my friend.”

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