“You created the hammerheads,”
“That is correct. Within a few birth cycles, we had what we needed.”
“You bastards,” Letho growled.
Undeterred by his outrage, Steigen continued. “Nanomed technology was one of the greatest breakthroughs our species had ever known. We were able to use nanoparticles to speed up the evolutionary process and control the end product. We created the working caste, the ones you call hammerheads, to sustain us. In turn we sustained the city’s infrastructure, keeping the water running and the lights on.
“However, there were complications. The creatures that you call mutants are products of our machinations as well. Pitiful beings, aren’t they? They are members of the working caste that experienced adverse side effects from the nanomed treatment. Something we didn’t anticipate—some genetic complication caused them to become malformed. They were cast out of the city, where they continued to breed for centuries, further complicating their maladies as they mixed their broken chromosomes together. The end product is the creatures that you call mutants, who even now threaten our doorstep.”
“They exist because of your experiments? How could you?”
“I do not ask for your forgiveness, Letho. We are not blind. We see the consequences of our actions. The weight of or mistakes weighs heavily upon us, for in our attempt to preserve our race, we have brought it to the brink of annihilation.
“There is, however, something that can be done to make this right. The nanomeds that permeate our bloodstreams are also in the bodies of the mutants outside. There is a command that can be issued which will cause these nanomeds to turn on their host bodies, consuming them in an instant. A failsafe. This action will cause no pain, just instant oblivion. I would do it myself, but another failsafe is in place to prevent any member of the Corpus Verum from initiating the procedure. It can only be done externally, from that panel over there.”
Failsafes to prevent failsafes.
Letho scoffed. It was an empty sound, like an engine trying and failing to start.
Steigen pointed at a wall panel and it seemed to spring to life at his command, with text running down the screen. Letho couldn’t read all the text at a distance, but three words were visible at the bottom.
Yes or no?
“You must do it, Letho. Every single mutant in Hastrom city will be put out of their misery in an instant. No pain or suffering.”
“You said these nanomeds are in your own bloodstream,” Letho said. “So won’t they turn on you, too?”
Steigen nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. All of the sleepers’ bodies will perish, though I doubt you will shed a tear for us. However, although our bodies will die, our consciousnesses will be transferred to Hastrom City’s server bank. All the knowledge and cultural heritage contained within our collective minds will be saved, so that it can be utilized by all citizens of Hastrom City.”
“You’re seriously saying you want me to wipe out all the mutants and all the sleepers in a single stroke?” Letho cried. “And what of the hammerheads? Will they die too? Why not just wipe out all known life while you’re at it?”
“The members of the working caste—the hammerheads, you call them—will be unaffected. When Abraxas began harvesting blood from the working caste, I implemented a protocol to purge the nanoparticles within them. They will be immune to your actions.
“Do this for us, Letho. Help us to right the great wrong that we have created. End our suffering once and for all, and stop the cycle that has been perpetuated over so many centuries.”
****
Bayorn, Maka, and Adum stood atop the palace steps, watching the mutant horde sweep toward them. Swarming like locusts, the creatures covered the ground below, scrambling over one another as they rapidly ascended the steps like a wave of diseased flesh. Deacon and his fellow pilots hovered above, and so far had managed to keep the beasts at bay with their cannons. But they could not shoot all of them, and they had to be running low on ammunition. The mutants were already close enough that Bayorn could see the whites of their eyes. It wouldn’t be long now.
Bayorn fired a burst into the throng below, and his rifle clacked dry. He tossed it aside, and roared. The Tarsi and humans exchanged knowing glances as the horde cleared the final step.
“It’s been an honor, Tar-san,” Maka shouted over the din.
“Indeed. I will see you in the halls of our forefathers,” Bayorn replied.
The first of the mutants to scrabble over the final step surged toward Maka. He swatted the creature away, sending him tumbling down the dogpile of writhing bodies. But more mutants came after the first, waves of them, an endless sea of wrongness, unchecked and unrestrained. Maka went down under the weight of a great pile, and Bayorn roared.
The fell creatures roared back, and Bayorn was surrounded, grasping, diseased hands dragging him down as well.
Then, as if smote by the hand of the creator, the mutants collapsed, and their limp bodies tumbled down the side of the temple.
****
“The procedure is complete. The genetic anomalies have been eliminated. Databanks are stable. I am reading solid communication from the hive mind.”
Genetic anomalies? Bastard.
“The nanoparticles will dissolve the genetic anomalies’ remains. The city is safe. Thank you, Letho.”
Letho stared at the holographic representation of a dead man. He thought of the lifeless bodies in the pods, dissolving as the tiny machines in their bodies broke them down into bits of carbon dust.
Congratulations, Letho, you’ve just murdered thousands of poeple, his copilot whispered.
But it’s what they wanted. They wanted to be free.
“Come on, Thresha. Let’s go find our friends.”
****
Letho and Thresha found Maka and Bayorn on the top steps of Abraxas’s temple. They embraced and laughed, ecstatic to see one another still alive. Deacon landed his ship on the street and rushed to join the reunion. Maka and Bayorn even greeted Thresha with open arms. She had proven to them, at last, that she could be trusted. It was one less thing that Letho had to worry about.
Maka and Bayorn introduced Adum to Letho, Thresha, and Deacon. They took to the small man right away, drawn in by his unabashed kindness.
But Letho found that he could not share in their joy. Images of Saul’s head, ripped open by the fire-talk of his hand cannon. It was different thing to kill a human being.
A brother, his copilot reminded him.
“Well, it looks like we did it,” Deacon said, extending his hand to Letho.
Letho took his friend’s hand in his own and shook. Then he looked at Deacon like he didn’t recognize the man. Deacon recoiled a little, searching Letho’s face for the meaning of his expression.
“It is not finished,” Letho said. “Abraxas and Alastor are still out there. Who knows what their plan is?”
“Well, you could still celebrate a little, you know. This wouldn’t have happened without you,” Deacon said. Letho felt a slight stab of emotion as he saw the disappointment and confusion in his friend’s eyes.
Without responding, Letho turned and walked away. He felt no emotion, no joy in their victory, just a gnawing emptiness. The combined gain and loss of his father still weighed heavily on him, and he expected that that loss would always be with him no matter what happened or where he went. Cruel fate had dangled this new morsel in front of him, and just as he had taken the first sweet bite, had glimpsed the warmth of a kinder future, that morsel had been snatched from his jaws like he was a lowly dog. He thought of Saul, whom he had dispatched as though he were cattle to be slaughtered.
He stopped at a balcony and looked out upon the Tarsi below, free at last of their burden, returned to their original state; he saw former Fulcrum citizens embracing. All that was missing was a sea of drifting ticker tape and confetti. But they, unlike him, had not been forced to kill one of their own. It was different killing Mendraga, for they had made a choice, had become something different. Letho had killed a friend. A brother. It hung now upon his neck like an anvil. Something he would have to carry with him as long as he lived.