Ch.00 Bellageist: Burning Angels

Sharing my book!

This opening of my as-yet unpublished book happens near-simultaneous to one of my popular short stories. If you enjoyed this, also check out “When Angels Sleep”

Companion short story:

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Bellageist Burning Angels

In the distant future humanity conquers its final frontier: The mind. The ego. The very self.

A discovery makes possible the transfer of an individual’s consciousness from flesh to machine. Humankind’s most coveted dream is realized: immortality. Adaptability, beauty, vigor, and eternal life are achievable at the low cost of forever shedding one’s mortal coil.

For an intergalactic civilization that cages suns for power and builds heavenly ringworlds the width of solar systems, this new technology proves the most revolutionary of all. At first, “Ascendancy” is rare and experimental. Before long, conversion is made cheap and accessible. One formerly united species splits into two.

Humans and posthumans have different needs. Their worldviews diverge. Factions form. Frictions arise.

Soon, conversion is made mandatory. Many still refuse. The recalcitrant have questions: are humans killed during conversion, replaced by metal doppelgangers? None can deny death forever. How will civilization repopulate? Do the Ascendant retain their souls?

The ensuing conflict is more terrible than any that came before. The galaxy burns in four centuries of war. Palaces topple. Planets crack open. Ringworlds collapse. Quadrillions die.

Still, the war rages on. Two diminished armies clash amidst civilization’s ruins. The Cabal and their mechanical slaves, and the Rebels, a warrior society of genetically engineered male humans.

A new front opens on a backwater world. Here, heroes from both factions attempt to forge new destinies. Will their deeds institute real change? Pass into legend? Or will the fire-shod hooves of unending war trample their dreams to ashes?

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Bellageist: Burning Angels

Prologue

A surreal thing, watching one’s world die.

Yesterday, Kee, 17 years old, beautiful, blonde, and gray-eyed, had refused the outdoors. She had tried to keep inside. She let ceilings shield her from the horror above. Let thin walls blind her to the approach of the end times.

The ceilings had helped a bit. Those, and the crazy parties.

Children ran rampant. No one thrived more in an apocalypse than the unfettered youth, it seemed. Despite feeling older than the majority of them, Kee found herself drawn into their company. She followed her friends wherever the fun called them.

It had worked for a few days. Kee did her best not to let her mind drift. She focused on whatever came in front of her. She hid indoors with her friends and joined in every adventure without regret or hesitation.

Kee couldn't shake the tug of inevitability, the constant need to check the disaster's progress like an itch she couldn't scratch.

The urge grew until she could ignore it no longer. She had to confirm it was real, that it was still happening, that no one had found a way to fix it.

One step outside into the cool evening air. One look at the sky.

Confirmed. Again.

The solar battle that had broken the ringworld occurred a week ago, its aftermath still visible. Somehow, a part of the megastructure had snapped. The whole thing had been an accident, they said. Something about stray fire and the meteor defense system’s inability to intercept crashing, armored starships.

One section had broken. Just one. But it had started a chain reaction, a death spiral that could not be stopped.

Pegasus Ring, Kee’s home, wound in two directions; enormous terrestrial ribbons that dominated the horizons, both east and west. The ring-shaped paradise upon which uncounted billions thrived once stretched as far as the eye could see. Pegasus once continued onto infinity, each of its ends disappearing past the atmosphere, fading from view before meeting again at the opposite side of the sun.

A ringworld no more. Instead, the horizons ended in jagged, broken tips now. Otherworldly fires swathed the cliff of each arching curve. The outlying flames were so massive they seemed unmoving, as if frozen in time, and they burned so distant that the atmosphere tinted them a ghostly white.

Every hour or so, another section of Pegasus broke loose. Too distant to be felt, each violent separation gave birth to what looked like millions of glittering little comets. The stream of debris appeared brighter each time as the disaster crept another step closer.

Eventually it would reach the spot where Kee now stood. Only a few more days now, the rumors said. Perhaps sooner, as the ringworld’s trajectory and center of mass veered further from its host star.

The old people had the most to fear and the most to lose, or so it seemed. They kept busy, out of view somewhere, seeking ways to extract their families off world. Some scrambled to collect funds for expensive and scarce liner tickets. Others sought more illicit forms of passage, falling prey to scammers, or filling up cargo space on craft unfit for interstellar travel.

Some grownups gambled on relocation to another part of the ring. Gossip remained constant. Unofficial assurances told one whatever they wished to hear. One could be convinced that at least a few parts of Pegasus would remain intact, that their populations would somehow survive the unfolding disaster. Which sections would be so fortunate was anyone’s guess.

A few adults, the ones deepest in denial, remained at home and defended their properties from looters. They shouted condemnation at furtive passersby. They urged their neighbors to remain calm, to return to their dwellings, to disbelieve the evidence of their lying eyes.

Others of middling age chose to tend to more spiritual needs, alone or in congregation with likeminded worshippers. Some boldly prayed for deliverance in this life, though the majority prayed for deliverance in the next.

The elderly accepted the apocalypse with the most dignity. Most chose to wait out the end in their homes. Some even shared company on balconies with neighbors likewise in their golden years. From there they commented idly as they spectated doom’s approach. The luckiest, ones whose life partners still lived, hugged each other close, their conversations honeyed with sweet talk and fond memories of rich lives fully lived.

All the adults had gone. With them, Kee observed, went the rules.

There had been resistance to the fact at first. Many parents and other adults could be seen attempting to enforce society’s normal order, had tried to keep the children safe and well behaved at home. But reality hung heavy over all heads, soaking every worry and care in poisonous meaninglessness. Inevitability penetrated even the most stubborn of hearts.

With that, norms swiftly unraveled. A new social contract took shape. Parents ceased hunting their wayward offspring. In exchange, the young agreed to keep communications open – just in case mom or dad called to announce they had acquired passage off world.

At the signing of this unofficial truce, children of all ages utterly conquered the upper terraces of Arcology 700. Most shopkeepers had not bothered to lock their doors. The youngest children ran rampant through aisles emptied of toys. Virtual arcades had been set to free use. Gamers competed day and night to achieve new high scores. Each day that passed saw new extremes in both the real and virtual worlds, and the piles of broken toys and burned up equipment swelled.

Not a single human employee showed up for a work shift, so meals and beverages at every venue were on the house. The newly heightened demand overwhelmed the limited number of service droids. This proved to be no issue, as hordes of teens now supplemented the labor of the automated workers. Youths eagerly demonstrated their skills at mixing drinks despite being too young to legally imbibe them.

The end of the world party started several days ago and had yet to slow. All the while, Pegasus Ring silently tore itself to pieces.

Kee already regretted going outside. But, seen or unseen, the spectacular, gradual peculiarity of the ringworld’s death held her attention hostage. She needed only to look “up” to see that another piece had broken off.

Closer. Again. Another spray of debris hurtled into the void. Another billion people sent on an irreversible voyage into the sun.

“They’re dead already,” Kee overheard a teenage boy say. His voice came from the other end of the balcony, drifting over other gawker’s heads. “Barlo says before each piece tears off, there’s big earthquakes. So strong that everybody goes ‘splat!’”

“Idiot,” another boy responded. “Earthquakes only happen on planets. Here they’re called ringquakes.”

“Ringquake isn’t a real word!”

“It is now. Anyway, the air spills into space long before a section goes. That’s what kills them first. They all suffocate.”

“What makes you such an expert?”

Kee pushed herself away from the balcony railing and turned to head back inside. She did not want to hear this.

“Bro! Shut up!” a different boy said. “You’re scaring the hotties away!”

Kee slipped inside past a sound-proofed door. Music assaulted her ears. Its high volume reduced the track to unidentifiable noise; a cacophony of shrill rings and gut-punching beats. The interior reeked of caffeine, sweat, and spilled alcohol. Seats, the floor, tables, and every other surface felt sticky with sugar, tacky to Kee’s touch.

Youths danced wildly in a pack at the center of the room. Their bodies pressed and slid against each other. A slideshow of strobing lights revealed tangled limbs and various states of undress. Other kids slouched against walls or sprawled their exhausted limbs over couches, taking short breaks before the next youthful burst of energy hurtled them into another bout of riotous abandon.

Kee searched the sea of faces for her companions. She spotted them. Kee’s boyfriend Kuzo, a handsome red-haired boy a year older than her, held a clutch of fresh drinks on a tray. He brought the beverages to Kee’s friend Camille, a girl her age. Camille shared hugs and kisses with a boy Kee had yet to meet.

Kee made her way to them.

A 17, maybe 18-year-old boy blocked Kee, hopping in front of her, his face full of excitement. “I’m getting out!” He yelled. “And my parents got an extra seat!”

Kee hardly recognized him, seen him once, maybe twice before?

“Let go of me,” she said, shaking his arms off.

“Kee! Come with me!” the boy insisted, pawing at her. He yelled to be heard over the music: “You’re the most beautiful girl on Pegasus. I love you!”

“Moron,” Kee mumbled.

Her response went unheard, loud music and a sudden rush of shouting teens drowning her out. A girl called out in plaintive tones: “Ruby! You said you loved me!”

“Rubio, bro, come on,” another boy said. “We promised we’d leave together. Or die together. Together, bro. Did you forget?”

“Boy, you’re not leaving now, are you?” another girl protested. “We still have a few days left of partying before we die!”

“Rubio, man, we know you don’t got no stupid tickets,” shouted another boy. “You just wanna get in that blondies’ pants.”

The sea of consternation grew as the news spread. Young voices competed to be heard over each other and the music. Everyone seemed to have something to say at the boy’s claim he would be one of the lucky few to escape.

Kee quickened her pace. She left the boy to the crowd and joined her friends.

“Can I talk to you two?” she asked.

Camille had not heard her, seemed busy making out with the unknown boy.

“What?” Kuzo said, cupping his ear. He sat and simultaneously offered Kee a drink from the tray he had set down.

Kee accepted the drink automatically, put it aside, leaned in closer, shouted: “Camille! Will you listen, please?”

Camille forcefully disengaged, pushing her admirer’s smiling face to tear away. “Whaddya want, babe?” she said with a giggle.

Camille never talked like this. “Are you drunk?” Kee asked, waving away the alcohol smell on Camille’s breath.

“Yeah!” Camille giggled some more. Her blouse had become half-undone. She retorted in mock accusation: “You’re not?”

Kee grabbed both her friends’ shirt collars, tugged their heads closer. She still had to shout to be heard: “Guys, will you come with me? I wanna talk. Somewhere else. It’s important!”

Camille’s playmate shot up from the couch and hollered with excitement. He stood on his toe tips to peer at something in the milling crowd.

Teens all around shouted at some new excitement. Someone cut the music.

“You jealous fuck!” someone shouted.

“Hit him back, Ruby!”

A chant started: “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Kee grabbed her friends by the wrists and hauled them to their feet. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“Okay,” Kuzo said. He allowed himself to be dragged to a stand.

Camille giggled uncontrollably. “I’m gonna throw up!” she declared with a laugh. She rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

“Help me!” Kee snapped at the idling Kuzo.

Kuzo helped her haul Camille to her feet.

“Please don’t vomit on me,” Kuzo asked warily.

Camille inhaled her giggles. “No promises!”

They made their way to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Try the gravlift instead?” Kuzo asked, gesturing with his head.

“No, the skybridge,” Kee said, pointing.

Kuzo nodded. They made their way to a set of glass doors.

“Halt,” one of two silvery, human-looking security droids at the doors said. It wore an Arcology 700 Municipal badge on its chest but carried no weapon. “Access to Garden Seventeen is currently by reservation only.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Kuzo told it.

“Citation issued to: citizen seven-zero-two-one-dash-three-three-three-four-dash…”

The glass doors closed behind the youths before the machine finished its sentence.

Camille groaned and said: “Okay, I’m gonna-”

“Over here!” Kuzo said quickly, hauling the sickly girl towards a private-looking bench area enclosed by trees and hedgerows.

Kee almost lost her hold on Camille’s shoulder. Kee scowled, disappointed at Kuzo’s rough handling of their friend. The boy’s concern for keeping his shoes clean clearly outweighed his care for Camille.

They got Camille kneeling on the bench, her head pitched over its backrest.

“Hold her up,” Kee said. “I’ve got her hair.”

Kuzo complied and held Camille still. At arm’s length.

Camille emptied her guts. It smelled purely of sweetened alcohol, strong enough to burn Kee’s nose.

“What’s got you so wound up?” Kuzo asked between Camille’s heaves.

“Are you for real, Kuzo?” Kee said, readjusting her grip and gathering up more of Camille’s long black hair. “How can you be so nonchalant about all this?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Kuzo said. “You’ve taken ‘all this’ far too well.”

He paused, gripped Camille firmly as her stomach clenched again.

Kuzo continued: “Is it because you know something we don’t? Do you want to share?”

“Yes, actually,” Kee said, simultaneously annoyed and impressed. “I’ve only known you both for less than a year, but… you’re the only real friends I’ve ever had.”

Camille’s regurgitations interrupted them again.

“God, it smells so sweet it’s making me sick,” Kuzo said.

“Quit being such a baby,” Kee admonished.

“I feel better now,” Camille declared, her voice so hoarse it sounded deeply masculine.

Kuzo and Kee exchanged a look. They both laughed.

Camille bent again, retched emptily. She coughed. Her voice somewhat repaired, she tried again: “Can we go have some more fun now?”

“Maybe,” Kuzo said, hauling Camille to her feet. “Let’s get some distance from your toxic spill first.”

“’Kay.” Camille said. Her skinny legs crossed over each other with each step, weaving a drunken path beneath Kuzo’s guiding arms.

Kee gave up trying to help. Kuzo’s strong handling of their friend’s body made it difficult for her to hold on.

“Ah, that’s nice,” Camille slurred, leaning back on a partnering wooden bench. “I’ll be ready to party again. I just need a minute.”

“So, what’s your story, Kee?” Kuzo said. “You decide now’s the time to stop being so mysterious?”

Kuzo’s sharp tone surprised her. Normally her boyfriend sounded warm and caring, but not tonight. Kee bit her lip and wondered if she should still say what she wanted.

“I was made in a lab,” Kee started.

“Not unusual these days,” Kuzo said flippantly.

“Alright,” Kee said, already losing her patience with him. “If you care that little, you can just go.”

Kuzo sighed and sat down on the bench next to Camille. He rested his head on his hands and planted his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry, Kee. I haven’t been myself.”

Kee sat cross-legged on the grass in front of them. She already regretted snapping at him. “It’s okay. I mean, look,” Kee gestured up at the sky. A night shade panel had begun to slide over their section on Pegasus Ring, dimming the sun. But a million tiny lights could still be seen, comet-like trails of wreckage thrown out of orbit or sinking towards the center of the solar system.

Kuzo did not look up. “Yeah. That’s part of it, I guess.”

Kuzo’s reply surprised her. “You’ve got regrets worse than the one about how everyone here is going to die?”

Camille stood, wobbling unsteadily. Her friends likewise stood, both reaching to help, but Camille held them off with a warding hand.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” she said, pale-faced and sallow-eyed. “Guys, I love you. But you two are more than I can handle right now. If you wanna trade sob stories, be my guest. I just wanna party!”

Kuzo and Kee exchanged a concerned glance.

“Camille!” someone shouted. “There you are! My beloved!”

“My soulmate!” Camille shouted back. “Sorry, guys. Have fun doing the… this… your pity thing!” She broke into a jog, or rather, the stumbling parody of one.

“Citizen,” the same security droid from earlier addressed the boy calling out to Camille. “Your name is not present on the reservation list. You-”

The glass door at the end of the skybridge closed, hiding Camille and her new boyfriend behind its twilight reflection.

“I’m a spy,” Kuzo said to no one in particular. He sighed again, sat down.

His frankness shocked Kee. She had wanted to go after their friend, convince Camille to come back.

“I’m part of secret project to win the war,” Kee said instead. She sat down at arm’s length from Kuzo.

“Yeah, I know,” Kuzo said. “Look,” he held his arm out. His forearm split open, a panel popping up from elbow to wrist. Something that looked like a weapon sprouted from under the false skin.

Kuzo held it up for a brief inspection. He shrugged again. The weapon retracted and his arm closed up, looked natural again. He dropped the transforming limb into his lap. “Just one of many tools.”

“Are you a cyborg?” Kee asked.

Kuzo shook his head. “No. I’m one of the Ascendant. It took years to design this host frame. I’m not eighteen years old, Kee. I’m much older.”

Kee shivered, speechless.

Kuzo seemed to interpret Kee’s silence as a question. “One-hundred-and-six,” he clarified.

“Were you here to…” Kee’s limbs felt cold and leaden. “Here to…”

“Kill you?” Kuzo finished for her. “Yes. Only as a last resort. My real task was to gather intel, find out what you really are. After that, I received new orders to make smooth your capture operation.” Kuzo looked up at the sky. The sun, the stars, and the approaching death of the ring could barely be seen, increasingly hidden by the thickening night shade that slid into position.

“The battle a week ago was supposed to be a diversion,” Kuzo continued. “Shield my contacts from detection. They would slip in and get us off Pegasus. Then we’d head core-ward. Obviously, it didn’t work. The human resistance fleet must have destroyed them.”

Kuzo shook his head at the sky. Then he looked down at his hands. “Funny how it’s going to kill us now. In a small way, this is my fault.”

Kee had no words. It took her a minute to find some. “You’re really good at your job,” she said.

“Thanks?” he said uncertainly. “Too good, I think. Killing you proved impossible.”

“They made me to be…” Kee trailed off, hated talking about the many ways in which she was different. “I’m… durable. But I’m not invincible.”

“So I discovered,” Kuzo said. “But that’s not the real reason. I slipped too deeply into the role I played. It’s not an act anymore. I feel like a kid again.” Tears started to bead at the corners of Kuzo’s eyes.

“Kuzo, I…” Kee wanted to kiss him, but discovering his alien nature held her back. “Kuzo, I didn’t know posthumans could cry.” She regretted the words, immediately saw the pain they caused him, hated herself for feeling differently about him than she had moments ago.

“Of course I can cry. Tears aren’t part of the disguise I wear. You believe too much of the propaganda, Kee. For so long I’ve wanted to tell you the truth. We’re more alike than I think you know. I’m human in all the important ways. And I started to fall for you.”

Kee’s concern for her friend overcame her fear of his true identity. She leaned in, put an arm around Kuzo, placed her other hand on his knee. He felt warm, like normal, but perspective did funny things, made her expect the touch to be cold like metal.

“Kuzo… I don’t know what to say.”

“I said started to fall… but that’s not true.” Kuzo choked on a sob, said: “I love you, Kee. I truly love you.”

Kee’s heart burned. She liked Kuzo, but she had only known him a few months. She could not return the power of his feelings. She moved her mouth to speak, but what could she say? Tears welled up in her eyes instead.

“Kee, I know my love is not requited. But…” Kuzo seemed to notice something. He grabbed her, stood suddenly. He pointed at the sky. “Wait, who is that?”

Kee held onto Kuzo and followed the point of his gaze. She saw the gliding descent of something almost formless. A blacker shape in the twilight.

“I think they’re here for me,” she said.

“Who? The resistance?”

Kee shook her head. “Seems strange to call them that. But it’s close enough to the truth.”

The shape swelled in size, blacker than night. No thrusters existed on its surface to emit exhaust, no lights stabbed out from its prow in search. It drifted closer. It did no justice to describe it as quiet. Somehow, it was less than quiet, exacting a weighty tax on all sound made in its presence.

Kuzo faltered, slipped from Kee’s embrace. He looked afraid. “Should I run?”

“I don’t know, Kuzo,” Kee said. She stood too, felt uncertain, did not know whether she wanted to hold Kuzo close or not. “I thought I would have more time to think this through. That’s why I brought you and Camille out here. I wanted to talk about escaping.”

“I would do anything to get out of here, but only if it’s with you.”

“Can you be quiet?” Kee hissed at him. “I’m trying to think what I’m gonna tell them.”

Kuzo stayed silent.

The black shape came closer. It had definition now, unmistakably a starship. Large and boxy structures dominated its underside. It wore a rigid and angular shell along its upper reaches, giving it an overall arrow-shaped sleekness. No engine or thruster could be seen studding its surface.

It slowed its approach to hover above Garden 17. Its length easily dwarfed the building Kee and her friends had partied in. The soundless chill of the grave followed the vessel. Even Kee’s heartbeat had gone mute, an eerie realization possible only when the rush of blood in one’s ears absented.

“How has no one noticed it?” Kuzo whispered.

Kee put her hands on Kuzo. “Please, go get Camille,” she begged. She gave him a gentle shove. “She should come with us. You’re the only real friends I’ve ever had!”

“Alright, Kee,” Kuzo said. “I’ll get her.” He bounced on his feet a few times, stared up.

“Hurry!” Kee insisted.

Kuzo nodded, turned, then hunched into a run.

Kee looked up at the black ship. A small door on the vessel’s underside cracked open and spilled a harsh white light. Four figures leapt in succession from the opening, taking a hundred-meter plummet down onto Garden 17’s terrace.

If Kee had not recognized their ship, she would have known who these people were by watching them jump unassisted from such height.

Kee struggled with an impulse to run or hide. She might have, despite knowing certain death came for Pegasus. But her friends… she wanted them to have a chance at life, and she wanted to share it with them.

The free-falling figures landed somewhere out of view. Kee stayed put. She did not have to wait long. Their swift strides and unerring sense of direction always brought them right to her.

“There she is,” one announced, his voice distorted by a helmet speaker and muffled by the unnatural blanket of silence.

The oppressive noise-dampening made everything seem unreal. Dreamlike. Kee felt more than heard a rustle of leaves. She turned to the speaker as he emerged from a hedgerow, saw a dull red glare of a black-clad soldier’s faceplate.

“War?” Kee asked. “Is that you?”

“Come along, miss,” the man said. He beckoned her, his gesture urgent. He remained half-hidden in the foliage. “It is time to go.”

Kee hesitated. Something was off. She had never seen their faces, nor did she know their real names. But she recognized the voice. War always called her “missy”, not “miss”.

“I’m waiting for my friends,” she told him.

Two other figures emerged, similarly dressed in all black. The same dull red sheen reflected from their featureless helmet-masks.

“Friends?” one asked. “How many?”

“Two…” Kee said. “Um… aren’t there usually four of you?”

The three soldiers exchanged a brief glance.

“We had a casualty,” one said.

Kee took a step to the side, hoped it looked like she paced in nervousness. Her eyes searched frantically for the best direction to run.

“Come with us. We will collect your ‘friends’ on the way out.”

Kee’s heart hammered. This definitely was not right.

“Grab her,” one of the men said. All three of the soldiers stepped forward, arms outstretched.

“Kee!” Kuzo shouted, panting. He sounded underwater. He dragged Camille over the skybridge into the garden walkway. “I found Camille!”

Kee heard the soldiers stop, their attention drawn to Kuzo’s voice.

“Yojev achaos hirt,” one of the soldiers called out. He spoke the strange words conversationally, followed by clinks of metal as the three men pulled guns from their holsters.

“What?” Kuzo said. He stumbled into the private bench area, saw three gaping weapon barrels, still held Camille by her wrist. He stood up straight, raised a hand in recognition, said: “Iging ardir tuchaos.”

“It is him,” one of the soldiers said. “What of the other one?”

“No time,” another answered. “Shoot them both.”

Kee opened her mouth to protest. Violence unfolded before she could draw breath.

The black-clad men fired, the crack of gunshots suppressed to an odd rumble in proximity to the black ship. Camille’s chest disappeared in a blossom of red mist. She flopped to the ground, a neutral expression still on her face.

Kee ran at the soldiers, screamed in angry denial. She reached out to the nearest barking gun. It shot Kuzo before Kee charged the soldier holding it and disrupted his aim.

Sparks flew from a rent in Kuzo’s shoulder. The century-old-boy-spy, or whatever he was, dove into a roll.

The soldier Kee had charged turned and shoved her to the ground. He returned to tracking Kuzo with his gun, firing. Kee did not fear for herself, looked to her friends.

Kuzo became a blur of movement. Bullets chased him, vaporizing pavement, dirt, and grass, plumes of smoke thrown up in Kuzo’s wake.

Kuzo’s arm split open, producing the weapon he had showed Kee earlier. He fired a laser beam from it, grazing one of the soldier’s helmets.

The stricken soldier dropped to one knee. He looked unperturbed by the sizzling scorch mark dribbling molten metal and sparks down his temple. He held his pistol two-handed now, squeezed more shots off at Kuzo. The soldier’s two comrades split, running in opposing directions, firing on the move, disappearing into the hedgerows.

Kee scrambled back to her feet, determined to tackle the black clad man. “Stop!” she yelled at him.

The soldier saw her coming, shifted, raised his gun at her.

Strange, Kee thought. She had not expected the men would be permitted to shoot her. She skidded to a halt, raised her hands in surrender.

The soldier squeezed his trigger finger, only a hair’s width from shooting her. Then his head exploded, spraying a cone of debris.

Bloodless, sparking shards of metal flew at Kee. Shrapnel pinged and thudded off her face and body. The stinging pain from cuts and welts took several moments to hit her, yet still did not shake her loose from her shock.

At first, Kee thought Kuzo had killed the man. As the headless, kneeling body of the soldier toppled, more guns rumbled, the subdued sound seemingly coming from every direction.

Kee stood frozen, too confused to act. The dead thing at her feet was no human. It had been a machine.

She stared at it, uncomprehending. Something trickled over her eyelid, stinging. She moved to rub her eye, touched a wound on her face. Her fingers came away stained with blood.

The gunfire continued for a few more seconds. Then it petered out.

Another black-clad, red faceplate soldier emerged into the secluded bench area. He glanced at Kee – was that a double take? – before he acknowledged her with an awkward, belated nod. Then he walked over to inspect the headless thing on the grass.

This new black-clad soldier carried some kind of cannon twice the length of his arm. Kee recognized it, knew its carrier. The soldier-man pointed it down at the machine-corpse. He pulled its trigger, and a bright yellow flash reduced the dead machine’s torso to a ruined pile of smoking scrap.

A few more execution shots sounded in the muffled air, the cloying noise suppression adding the illusion of distance to the sounds.

The new arrival looked at her again. The crunch of boots announced three more soldiers. Now, four stood assembled in the private bench area. The barrels of their various armaments steamed the air.

One of them cursed: “Damn, these fuckers look just like us.” He approached and nudged the headless, dead machine-man’s body with his boot.

Kee saw it now, the dissimilarities that had caused her hesitation. She recognized this second set of black-clad soldiers. Their false copies did not have their gun oil smell, nor did they creak and squelch like leather when they walked. The real ones stood taller, bulkier, had more natural sounding speech patterns.

“Messy business,” one of the soldiers said. He reached out a hand to Kee, beckoned her. “Alright missy, the cavalry’s come. Time to get scarce.”

Kee recognized his voice and body language. The others called him War. She ignored him, ran to Camille instead, hoped against hope.

She heard heavy footfalls, one of the four men following.

“Damn, girl,” the man chasing her said. Kee recognized Death’s voice. “Give it up, she super dead.”

One look at the girl’s remains proved Death’s callous observation. Camille’s chest had all but disappeared, blown to bloody rags that dressed the ground in all directions.

Kee averted her eyes. She did not want to remember her friend like that.

Kee felt a heavy hand reach for her. She turned and twisted out of its grip. She ran to where Kuzo had fallen.

“Death! Unbelievable,” another of the men said: Famine. “How hard is it to catch a little girl?”

“We don’t have time for this,” another of the soldiers said. Hatred, the one Kee believed passed for their leader.

“Help me, damn it!” Death complained. “She quick as fuck!”

Kee reached Kuzo, kneeled, grabbed his wrist (the one that had not transformed into a gun).

“Kuzo!” she cried, pulling on his arm.

Kuzo opened his eyes, rolled his head to look at her. Kee saw distorted silvery metal under his oddly bloodless shoulder wound. “K-K-Kee,” he stammered weakly.

Death caught up to Kee, gripped her shoulder again in his gauntleted hand. He started to pull at her, then paused, leaned down to look over her shoulder at Kuzo.

“Fuck me,” he said. Death let go of Kee and waved his comrades over. “Yo, come see this. This one be a screwhead too!”

Kee stroked Kuzo’s cheek. Tears tinted with blood dripped from her chin, dressing his face. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked him. “Was any of it real?”

“Holy shit,” Famine said, catching up. “You’re right. This is new.”

“Yeah man. Never seen one that being so human before.”

All four men surrounded Kee, their armored boots caging her in. No escape now.

“Kuzo!” Kee insisted, squeezing him.

He looked at her, eyes blank.

“Kuzo! Come back!” Kee stroked his chest up and down, trying to wake him. Sharp ridges scraped her fingers, the metal edges of several holes the false men had shot through Kuzo’s chest.

“Kuzo! Answer me!”

“Do you think it’s her boyfriend?” Hatred asked.

“Damn, that ice cold,” Death observed. “Murdering they own asset like that.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Famine said. “Don’t act like you’ve never tied up a loose end before.”

“Will you two shut up?” War chastised. “We don’t know what happened here. Have a little heart.”

Kee stood, stifled a cry. “He’s gone,” she mumbled into her wrist.

“Alright. Finish him off, make sure,” Hatred ordered.

“Yeah, boss.” Death leveled his large gun at Kuzo’s head.

“Stand back, little missy.” War gently guided Kee a step back.

Death fired his gun. A bright discharge buffeted Kee with a wave of heat. A black, scorched crater in the pavement replaced Kuzo’s head.

Kee tried to stifle another cry. She failed. Tears streamed down her face, wettened her forearm.

“Aw fuck, look at her,” Death said pityingly.

“This whole free-range thing was a bad idea,” Famine said. “Look what it’s done to her pretty face!”

“Sorry about all this, little missy,” War apologized. He slung his large gun over his back.

“Enough chatter,” Hatred said. “Ride’s coming.” He reached out and took a firm hold of Kee’s bicep. Like the other three, his hand was huge, his rough grip squeezing the entire circumference of her arm.

Kee shook her head, tried to pull away. “No!” she protested. “I’m not ready! There are people here I need to say goodbye to!”

“No time. Whole place is gonna flip,” Famine said.

“No!” Kee denied, voice half-choked with anguish. “That will take days still!”

“No, he right,” Death said. “What left of Pegasus gonna capsize all imminent. The convex end gonna roll and face the sun.”

“Yep,” Famine said. “Gravity will go sideways. Everyone will fly out the windows and paint the countryside. Then the buildings will fall on top of them.”

“That what happen when Orion Ring went down, anyway.” Death added. “Some whirly shenanigans first, then zero-gee. Probably already starting.”

Another black vessel glided down from the sky, smaller than its parent, yet every bit as dark and menacing. It settled on Garden 17’s main walkway silently.

“Sorry, missy,” War said. “It’s time to go.” He grabbed Kee’s other arm. War and Hatred half-carried her towards the transport’s descending ramp.

A security droid emerged from the glass door, the same one from before. It jogged across the skybridge into the garden area. “Citizens!” it accosted. “This is not a legal parking area!”

“Get bent,” Death told it. He was the first to step onto the transport ramp.

The security droid continued to admonish the party, threatening citations. It did not seem to be programmed to comment on their guns or the dead bodies.

War and Hatred hauled Kee in next. Kee squinted, the transport interior bright with stark fluorescent light. The black-clad soldiers lowered her onto a seat. All resistance had left her. They pinned her against the seat, their usual habit. They strung safety belts over her chest as if securing a baby for a ride.

Kee hung her head, saw her arms and shirt webbed with drying blood. More blood drizzled and pattered from her chin and nose.

“Should we try to patch her up?” War asked.

“Nah,” Hatred answered. “She’ll be fine. She always walks this shit off.”

Famine stepped onboard. Heavy like the others, his tread rocked the interior. The transport swayed on its landing gears.

Famine turned, hammered a fist into a wall-mounted button. The transport ramp started to rise as the craft glided into the air.

Famine saluted the shrinking view to the outside. “See you in hell, Pegasus Ring.”

The boarding ramp closed with a hiss and the thud of locking mechanisms. The transport lurched, then dipped hard into an acceleration.

---

The girl slept.

War leaned his head close to Hatred and spoke quietly: “Do you think she knows they’re putting her into stasis? I wonder what she’ll wake up to.”

“Why they doin that?” Death asked, likewise leaning in. “Ain’t she posed to win this thing?”

“She’s not going into stasis,” Hatred said flatly. “We have a new client. One with a different plan.”

War’s mask hid his surprise. “What new client?”

“The kind that won’t be delinquent on the bills.”

Famine walked past, sat, and added his head to the huddle. “What’re we talking about?”

The others leaned back.

“Nothin’,” Death answered for them all.

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Companion short story:

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