The party noises continued to thump through Quip's speakers while Alec finished off the last of his preparations. He would wake the youth soon, but for now, he put it off. When he woke, his life would change from the comfort of wealth to the impossible life of a lowly servant. It was cruel, but it was the best way to ensure his life, even if it would be lived to satisfy the insatiable taste for revenge the wealthiest had. Alec did not kill children.

  He checked himself in the mirror. The most obvious aspect of his somewhat mechanical bio-engineering was the Aamaranth slot in his arm. The athletic form he achieved through constant hard work and training was a testament to his discipline. His augmentations were primarily functional, a bone structure strengthened to withstand the accelerated strength and movement Aamaranth could give him. The threat assessment and logic platform built into his ocular cavities and irises caused his eyes to light with an almost magical glow.

  Alec took a vial and removed the old one. The port itched, and he grabbed the tube of bio-restore to push the aged rash away. Ironic that he was allergic to the very mechanics that kept him alive for so long. He clicked the new vial into place and let out a long sigh. Thousands of uses, thousands of years, and the feeling never faded. The first few minutes were always pure energizing fire to him, like being a phoenix reborn.

  "Alec, the guards seem to be…"

  "I saw".

  "Do you think there will be..."

  "I don't expect any trouble, Quip."

  "That is the same thing you said on…"

  "Quip…" The conversation paused as Alec's tone asked for a break and some trust. Then his tone changed as he glanced from the mirror to the soldiers on the vidtronic screen. "Keep the engines warm just in case."

  "I had the same thought, sir."

  He glanced one more time in his mirror. The most giving sign he wasn't quite human was the metallic reflex system in his hands. It was made of a soft gold material from another lifetime. It was impervious to damage and connected to the small impact rotators, which gave him the fastest hands in the galaxy.

  Unbeknownst to those who marvelled at his otherworldliness (some even claimed he may be of alien origin), Alec felt the pain of these augmentations daily. The parts of his hands that were truly his ached when the reflex system kicked into high capacity. His neck ached where the wires of the threat assessment and logic system were wired into his spine and cerebral cortex. And like the pit in his elbow, his skin had never gotten used to it. He used his gun oil on his hands, and on cold planets, he would often ring them together, cracking the knuckles for brief moments of relief. Almost subconsciously, he cracked them now.

  The last piece of his augmentation, left unseen to the Baronhood, was his vocal-modulator. It didn't so much change his voice; it kept the steady, slow rhythm that matched his methodical mind. The system worked alongside an Aural Adapter that could translate any language and enable Alec to respond in kind. The most marvellous aspect was that it kept any hint of a foreign accent from his lips. This was his final strategic armour, which had enabled a lifetime of successful contracts. He uploaded the local data and spoke his poem to test.

  My boots have been broke since '42,

  Still marchin' on, still dreamin' you.

  Through fire and frost, and nights gone long,

  I'll see your face, I coming home.

  Alec didn't know where it was from. He'd found it in something they called books long ago. Paper was somewhat of a commodity now, and with the ability to put a million books on a digifiler, it seemed outdated. Although the Company and baronhood didn't really allow a million books on their system. Just the approved ones and of course "The Blessed Word". That manifesto garbage seemed so blatantly propaganda to Alec, but he had lived lifetimes. The people of this time seemed to devour it, and the Baronhood loved that it kept people in line. Like the religions of old, except oil was god.

  He finished the poem; the diction of this planet was warm and welcoming, if not plain. It gave Alec's voice an earnest honesty that reminded him of the times from the beginning. In the days of recruitment, he had a wife and child. He was told it was his duty and his honour to become something that could protect them forever. He was forged to protect humanity. He was never told that watching them grow older than he and slowly disappear into the great beyond would take his own humanity. Year by ever-slowing year.

  He sighed. He had purpose; he had life. He looked at the vial in his arm. He had Aamaranth, for now. He climbed up into the cab of his rig and started it up. At least he did for now, and when he finished this job, the reward would be enough; he might even have time to stop and fix the digifiler.

  Alec took the stimulant to the young man in the cage. He raised an unconscious arm, and for the first time since the beginning, Alec found himself forced to look away from his contract's face. Something in that youthful expression stared at him like an ancient ghost. He jabbed the small needle into the arm, the same place his Aamaranth went for Alec. The boy's eyes shot open, innocent, crisp and blue.

  For the first time, Alec questioned his purpose.

  The boy was scared and whimpering, and Alec knew that look in his eye; he'd seen it in cornered wild beasts. Alec took a breath and stepped back from the cage. He pulled out a set of confiner-links and held them outward.

  "I'm sure you're looking around here, wondering what's going on and what comes next." He saw the look of confusion in his eyes like a stallion waking up in a corral. "No, you don't know me, and you ain't never seen me. The last thing you probably remember is walking the boardwalk after kissing your honey under the stars. That's good kid, hold that memory. At no fault of your own, more than of your father's sins passed down, your life now belongs to the Baroness Veiss."

  At the last statement, the manboy seemed to muster enough courage to try to speak. It came out as two ragged words slammed together as one. "What-- why?"

  "I think he just answered that," Quip chimed in. "You are the imperative, "what," and you are here to settle an age-old debt between your father and the baroness. The 'why' is because fleshy beings, whether beast or… you," the latter was said with dripping disdain. They desire to watch their targets suffer more than they enjoy the delicious feeling of tires grinding the organic skulls into dust."

  The boy's eyes were becoming wider by the word. Alec went over and clicked the mute switch in the panel again. "Pay him no mind. You're too young to die, and I took it all into account. It's what I do, kid. For centuries, I've calculated and planned for every outcome. The baroness will make you a servant, I won't lie, it ain't pleasant. You won't see your family or your love again, and no one will believe you or help if they did if you attempt to escape. It's best to let it settle in. The quicker you accept, the easier what's left of your life will be. Now, to show me you understand, put these on.

  Alec tossed the Confiner-links, and the boy paused for a moment and then sighed and wiped a tear away from his cheek. He wrapped both wrists, and the links tightened, binding his hands in front of him. He didn't say a word but just stared at Alec, indicating with his clear blue eyes that he was ready.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Alec's voice nearly caught in his throat, and before he knew it, he was brushing the bead for the child on his hat. He swallowed the emotion and motioned the kid forward, meeting him by the door as he used the identifier in his hand to open the lock. The door swung open at Alec's linked thought, and the boy walked out, stifling sobs as he paced.

  The party noise thumped through Quip's speakers as Alec finished off the last of his preparations. “Isolate the music and shut it down,” he snapped.

  “Not in the party mood, I take it?” Quip responded as the music died off.

  Alec ignored him and turned his attention to the form at the back of the cabin. He would need to wake the youth soon but didn’t feel like bothering with the intrusion at the moment. When the boy woke up, his life would change from the comfort of wealth to the impossible life of a lowly servant. A cruel awakening, but it was the only way to ensure he would continue to live life, even if it was only to satisfy Baroness Veiss's insatiable taste for revenge and also to protect his own code. He did not kill children.

  It was almost time to put in his appearance, but he checked himself in the mirror one more time anyway. There was no need to stand straighter or pull in a sagging gut. His athletic form had been achieved through constant hard work and training, a testament to his rigorous self-discipline. Those who looked closer might catch a glimpse of mechanical bio-engineering and the Amaranth slot in his arm but those augmentations were primarily functional, creating a bone structure strong enough withstand the accelerated strength and movement Amaranth could give him.

  The most striking difference between himself and other mortals - not that he considered himself as one of them, was an almost magical glow from within his eyes, at least when viewed straight on. A threat assessment and logic platform had been built into his ocular cavities with the result that ambient light filtered out through his irises.

  Alec removed the last vial form it slot and tapped the side. Still only one line, ten percent or even less as the vials were sometimes tampered with and sold as fully charged when they actually started out with a three to five percent deficiency. At the present price of Amaranth, skimming that small amount off the top could set up a merchant for life. The empty port itched, and he grabbed the tube of bio-restore to sooth the ongoing rash. It was ironic that he was allergic to the very mechanics that had kept him alive for so long. He clicked the vial back into place and let out a long sigh. Despite many hundreds of year and a few thousands uses, the intense feeling of reconnecting to his source of life and power never faded. The renewed flow was a pure energizing fire to him—a phoenix reborn.

  A screen over the mirror flickered momentarily as four figures moved into the camera’s view.

  "Alec, the guards seem to be . . ."

  "I know."

  "Do you think I should prepare the . . ."

  "I don't expect any trouble, Quip."

  "That is the same thing you said when . . ."

  "Not now Quip." It came out harsher than he intended. "Keep the engine warm, just in case, though."

  "I had the same thought, sir." Quip’s subdued reply came back.

  Alec nodded. At times he forgot that Quip’s near-death experience in the swamp had given the sentient machine a much greater appreciation for threats, not only to Alec but also to itself.

  Glancing down at the mirror he took in the reason for his confidence in this situation. The obvious tell-tale sign that he wasn't quite human; metallic reflex inlays that were woven in his hands. The network of flexible gold from another lifetime was impervious to damage and interconnected to the neurological impact rotators at each finger joint. The result was the fastest hands in the galaxy. If the four approaching guards had any nefarious intentions, they would not live long enough to fulfill them.

  Unbeknownst to those who marvelled at his otherworldliness or gossiped about a possible alien origin, Alec felt the pain his augmentations daily. The biological sections of his fingers burned with internal fire when the reflex system kicked into high gear. Shooting pains in his neck would fire off where the wires of the threat assessment and logic system had been wired into his spine and cerebral cortex. Just like the slot in his elbow, his body had never fully accepted the changes. Over time he found some relief from using gun oil on his hands but on cold planets, he was often cracking his knuckles for a moment or two of relief. Subconsciously, he cracked them now.

  Outside the guards took position around Quip, then began and easy-going banter that was either nervousness or a ruse, an attempt to get him to lower his guard. After listening for a minute he uploaded their inflections into his vocal-modulator. The system worked alongside an Aural Adapter that could translate any language and enable Alec to respond in kind. It didn't change his voice, but it allowed him to respond in a steady rhythm that matched his methodical mind, without any hint of a foreign accent. An important facet of his final strategic armour, enabling a lifetime of successful negotiations.

  With the guards data upload, he spoke out loud his test poem.

  “My boots have been broke since '42,

  Still marchin' on, still dreamin' you.

  Through fire and frost, and nights gone long,

  I'll see your face, I a comin’ home.”

  He didn't actually know who wrote it. It has been on a scrap of paper torn from an old book. Paper was something only collectors bother with and with the ability to put a million books on a digifiler, holding on to a piece of an old book was rather outdated. Of course the Company and baronhood would never allow a million books on a personal file, just the approved ones like "The Blessed Word". The people of this time devour it, and the Baronhood loved that it kept people in line, like the religions of old. It was blatant propaganda to Alec, but he had lived enough lifetimes to understand what the truth really was.

  He rehearsed the poem again enjoying the diction of this particular planet. It was rather plain but also warm and welcoming. It gave Alec's tone an earnest honesty, reminding him of earlier days when he had a wife and child. During recruitment he was told it was his duty and his honour to become something that could protect his family forever but he did not foresee that watching them grow older and disappear from his life would slowly, year by never-ending year, slowly steal away his humanity.

  Taking a deep breath, he tapped the vial in his arm one more time for good luck. All he had now was the aamaranth and the purpose it provided. The same substance that had taken his life now was what sustained him.

  Turning away from his reflections on his person and his past he grabbed a stimulant show and made his way over to the young man. Rolling up the sleeve on the limp arm, he hesitated. Something in the boy’s placid expression came at him like an ancient ghost. Looking away he jabbed the small needle into the arm, into the same place his amaranth slot occupied.

  The boy's eyes shot open, innocent, crisp, blue—and terrified. Alec knew that look well, he'd seen it in cornered animals. Alex held out a set of confiner-links.

  "No doubt you’re wondering where the hell you are, what's happening now and what comes next." He saw the look of rolling confusion in the boy’s eyes, like a stallion trapped in a chute and shying away from a glowing branding iron. "Lets get this out. You don't know me. The last thing you remember is walking the boardwalk after kissing your girl under the stars. That was a while ago and now you are on one the same stars. At no fault of your own, but one of your father's sins passed down, your life now belongs to the Baroness Veiss."

  He waited a moment but the young man, if he could be called that, only stared back at him. Alec opened his mouth to try again and two ragged words came from the lad’s mouth, jammed together as one. "What-why?"

  "He just answered that," Quip’s voice chimed in through the speaker. "The ‘what’ is you and you are here to settle an age-old debt between your father and the baroness. The 'why' is because fleshy beings desire to watch other fleshy beings suffer for accidents in the long distant past. To make amends you will now also suffer as compensation."

  The boy's eyes were becoming wider by the word. Alec crossed over and clicked the mute switch in the panel. "Pay him no mind. Listen, the point here is that you're too young to die, and I took that into account and brought you here instead of just ending your life. It's what I do, kid, calculating and planning for the best possible out outcome in alignment with my own directives. What’s going to happen now is that the baroness will make you a servant and, I won't lie, it won’t be pleasant. Forget about seeing your family or your girl again. As far as they know, you died and right now they are mourning your loss. No one here will help you escape so its best to settle in and make the most of the situation. The quicker you accept it, the easier what's left of your life will be.” Alec tossed the Confiner-links to the boy. “Your next step is to put these on. If you were meant to die that would have already happened, trust me.”

  The boy paused for a moment, then sighed and wiped a sleeve over his eyes. As he placed his wrists into the links, then cinched up, binding his hands in front of him. Without a word he stood to his feet, staring at Alec with clear blue eyes.

  Without thinking, Alec found his hand reaching for bead on his hat. Pulling it back fiercely, he swallowed the emotions and motioned the kid forward, meeting him by the door, then waving the identifier implanted in his hand to unlock it. The door swung open and the boy walked out ahead of Alec into a new world and a new life.

  For a moment, Alec almost envied the opportunity.