Once he thought he saw a figure for a fleeting instant, when a gust of pure air cleared the sand and allowed a longer-range view. But it was only for an instant. He was left with the impression in his fogged mind of a man wearing a flapping scarf. That could not be, he told himself. How could there be a man out there? Megwit was the only living human within a hundred leagues. After continuing to scan every video pickup for half an hour or more, he finally sagged down in relief and defeat. Whatever it had been, the figure was gone now.
Then came the knock. It was incredibly loud, being created by one large hunk of metal banging against a flat slab of even thicker metal. The sound reverberated through Megwit’s office and caused his brain a good deal of pain. He clamped his swollen eyes shut and slapped his hands to his ears, gritting his teeth and crying out.
When the sound finally, blissfully ceased, a fresh sound replaced it. Megwit tentatively removed his hands from his ears, and forced open a single, puffy eye.
The valves on the doors were opening. There couldn’t be any doubt of it. The bottom one had twisted fully around to the vertical, and the upper was squeaking and turning slowly even now. He thought of jumping up to twist the lower valve shut again, but something kept him in his chair. There wasn’t enough time left, and so he did nothing. He sat and stared dumbly. Perhaps it was shock, or simply apathy brought on by the blur-dust that coursed through his system.
A moment later, the second valve was vertically aligned and the door opened. Megwit barely had the time and forethought to claw his goggles into place. The sandstorm would be coming through that hatchway with a vengeance.
A blast of grit and howling wind flood his office a moment later. Every report, faded decoration and scrap of clothing lifted up and swirled around the chamber as if caught in a tornado. Sand stung his lips and shot up his nostrils. He had not had time to get his breather into place.
His eyes, looking through the grimy goggles, beheld a surprising sight. It was a mech, he could tell that much. But unlike other mechs, this one had a scarf around its face. That flapping bit of cloth seemed like a human affectation, and somehow it was frightening. Still, he knew who this visitor must be.
Megwit watched as the mech closed the door behind it. The mech had a missing arm, he noticed. A slurred moment later, he realized the missing arm was in the mech’s other gripper. The mech was carrying its own broken arm. Somehow, this did not make sense to him, and he almost laughed aloud. Almost.
“Sixty-Two?” Megwit asked. “Are you Sixty-Two? Report your status, then shut yourself down for maintenance.”
The towering figure said nothing in reply. Instead, the mech approached Megwit’s desk. It hefted its broken arm with its good one. The mech then began the methodical process of beating Megwit to death with the broken arm, wielding it like a club.
As the only human within many miles succumbed, he saw the scarf covering the mech’s face slip away due to the heaving effort it undertook. The steel orbs behind the scarf stared down with a burning intensity.
Soon, the walls of the Megwit’s office were slick with blood and shreds of flesh, and the wretched operator knew no more.
Two
On another world several lightyears away from Ignis Glace, a Nexus Senator worked late into the evening. Neu Schweitz was the third planet from the star Kale, the same position as was held by Old Earth in the Sol system. It was however, a smaller world than Earth and heavily-cratered. Due to natural biomass growth and heavy erosion from frequent storms, these craters took the form of thousands of sharp, striking mountains intermixed with vibrantly green, circular valleys. There were many cold, black lakes between the towering peaks, often as deep and dark as they were wide.
Lucas Droad’s desk sat atop a skyscraper in the capitol city of the Neu Schweitz colony, the seat of local government presiding over a handful of nearby star systems. He remained in his office long after the majority of high government officials had left for their homes, favorite nightclubs or the beds of underlings who sought advancement. He was that rarest of individuals: a tireless, visionary politician.
It had been fifteen months since the star-hauler Gladius had departed from the Kale star system, following its prelaid course for Ignis Glace. Aboard that ship were aliens more dangerous than those encountered anywhere else in human history. Since their departure, Droad had never considered relaxing and reaping rewards from his role in driving the aliens out of the Kale system.
No, Droad had not wasted those fifteen months gloating and doing commercial vids. Instead, he’d managed to parlay his heroic part in defending the Nexus against the alien invaders into a Senate seat. His incumbent rivals had attempted to paint him as a grasping bystander who sought to take credit for the efforts of his betters-or worse, as a man who’d brought doom with him wherever he traveled in the Faustian Chain. Although there was some truth to this latter claim, the people had seen through the rhetoric and voted for Droad. They’d seen him as the sole herald of the approaching danger, and sent him to high office rather than reelecting those who’d sought to ignore him.
Droad’s meteoric rise in political popularity had not been matched by successes in his personal life, however. Sarah Engstrom had left him for Aldo, and he’d subsequently taken up with Ensign Tolbert. Unfortunately, Tolbert’s infatuation with an older, extremely busy and driven man had faded quickly. Within a few months, he was alone again. He’d thrown himself into his work as usual, and managed to get warning transmissions out to planets in every direction-even to Old Earth itself, a world no one had heard from in nearly a century.
A little over a year after the aliens had been defeated in the Kale system, Droad called upon an old friend for a visit. He called Aldo Moreno. The man came that very morning, as he’d been residing in the capitol city near the Nexus headquarters. Droad had known this, but hadn’t expected such a rapid response.
Aldo appeared at the doorway as it dissolved away with a shimmer. He was of Swiss-Italian descent, as were many on Neu Schweitz. His hair and eyes were dark and thoughtful. His large nose tended to tilt high into the air when he was annoyed.
“Fancy door,” Aldo commented. “May I come in?”
“By all means,” Droad responded, providing a politician’s automatic smile.
Aldo stepped inside and inspected the office. He whistled in appreciation, toeing the rich carpet that was over an inch deep. He thumbed the tail feathers of a stuffed rook he found hanging near the corner window, which offered a panoramic view of the capitol city far below.
“A real bird and a real window?” he asked.
Droad nodded. Droad’s eyes slid to the dueling sword at Aldo’s side then back up to the man’s face. Aldo had the eyes of a calculating killer, but Droad considered the man to be a valuable friend.
“Why did you summon me here, Senator?” Aldo asked, turning his attention again to the stuffed bird. Although the natives of Neu Schweitz’s cantons called them rooks-and they were black-feathered birds-they were not the same species that flew upon Old Earth. They were far larger, being nearly a meter tall in some cases. They were quiet birds, as well. They did not twitter and squawk. Instead-they stared. Today, this dead rook stared down at the two men from its timeless perch. Aldo tapped at one black, reptilian foot thoughtfully.
“I needed to speak with you about a serious matter, Aldo.”
“Is this about Sarah? I left her some time ago. You may not have heard.”
“Yes, I know,” Droad said.
“Is it about my dueling, then? I’ve taken care to keep kills to the minimum and my records will show every instance of a disagreement has been documented and witnessed.”