The Blood Solution (Approaching Infinity Book 3) Read online

  “Ban,” Raus said, shaking his head. “You were always so eager for change, you always wanted to do something that mattered, to be the strong one, to make a difference even though you were sick. Father’s experiments improved us, but with you there was a cost.”

  Raus threw his head back, sucking in a deep breath as he recalled with perfect clarity the fateful night Ban was put into the medical tank more than a hundred years ago. . .

  “Raus! The dreams, you know the dreams haunt me nightly, pointing to some horrific future, but on waking nothing ever remains except the impression of the end approaching.”

  “Easy, Ban. You’re paler than usual, little brother.”

  Ban shook his head, dismissing Raus’s concern. “I’ve done it, Raus. I’ve taken the Catalyst Wine.”

  Raus started. “You— Why, Ban? You know what it’ll do to you.” Raus gripped Ban’s shoulders and noticed his brother’s legs shaking, barely able to support him. “You’re sweating, Ban, and you’re scaring me.”

  “I see it, Raus. The Wine submerged me in shadow, an ocean of shadow, but, but I could see it and I see it still. Not clearly, but it’s coming. Calamity. The end of everything. We—”

  Ban nearly fainted, going limp in Raus’s supporting hands.

  “Must. . . must get help. Viscain Empire. . . still time. . .”

  So much had happened since Ban had slipped into the coma. Calamity had come as predicted, but help was still a long ways off. Raus’s indiscretion with the serving girl, Milla Marz, had set off a chain of events that destroyed what credibility the Kaplers still had with the people and drove a wedge through the Kaplers themselves destroying them in the end as well.

  Raus sighed and forced the memory from his head. He placed his hands upon the glass and looked up into his brother’s peaceful face. “It’s just you and me, Ban,” he said. “We’ve lost so much, but the help you foretold is finally here. In less than a month the first of them will arrive.”

  3. THE WOODEN MAN

  (10,689.130)

  Planet Zahl was lifeless. It hadn’t always been so, and in fact a case could still be made to the contrary, but no animal life nor vegetation remained. Ruins of the long-dead civilization were spread across the land in various states of crumbling decay and offered no trace of the splendor of the planet’s cultural peak.

  A lone survivor of the planet’s rise and fall to oblivion sat upon a crag, observing the whorls the wind traced in the sand. This survivor could think, could perceive, could communicate, could even create, but was not, strictly speaking, alive.

  Icsain was an articulated figure of smooth wood with mesmerizing grain patterns that seemed to shift. His head was a wooden egg and, though devoid of features, was strangely expressive. Each major joint was a dark sphere and was, like his head, polished to a glossy finish.

  Icsain had been cut from a sacred tree that was worshiped in primitive times. A craftsman, immeasurably skilled, carved the figure, at first according to his own design, but as the human figure took shape, Icsain helped guide the craftsman’s hand.

  He had seen the peoples of his world settle their differences and achieve peace. He had borne witness to every major historical event, sometimes from the inside as a key participant, sometimes from afar as a simple observer. He never dared to want anything more than to share in the lives of the people who had once worshipped him. And he got his wish. The world had run its course and Icsain had been present through it all. Now he was content—had no choice but to be content—with the day to day dramas that nature could still play out for his amusement, drawing pictures in the sand.

  4. THE SKELETON GENERAL

  10,689.141

  From around Kapler Tower, at the fringes of the Black Fields, they watched, thousands of them, stirred by the sudden flash and crack, roused to interest and alternately filled with or drained of hope. The Lightning Gun hadn’t been fired in a few years now, and none of the groups, affiliated or independent, had made any moves of aggression, but what fell from the sky, touching down where the Lightning Gun had so many times before, was similar—too similar—to do anything but stoke an already present and building feeling of unease.

  When the light faded, a lone man rose from a crouching position to stand his full height, which many onlookers thought was little more than that of a child. As they scrutinized, though, many began to shake uncontrollably when they realized—or assumed, really—just what had been deposited upon the Black Fields. It wasn’t a man, or a child, but a skeleton, an incarnation of death come to reap. But to reap what? Was death here for them or for the Kaplers?

  Jav Holson, Dark with the Kaiser Bones, stood, checked the Tether Launch control device upon his wrist, then took a moment to survey his surroundings. Immediately beneath him, marked by rings of etched stones, buried in stages within the mixture of char-black ash and sterilized soil, were more bones than he could register. He noted, too, the camps of men and women, their primitive arms, and how they formed an extended perimeter, now animated somewhat by his arrival, around the Tower. He stared into the distance for a moment, thinking. If necessary he could secure the Tower and defend it indefinitely with what were essentially inexhaustible resources below. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be necessary.

  Jav turned his attention to the Tower and regarded the Lightning Gun. As a part of his show of good faith, Kapler had provided the Empire with the gun’s specifications, and Jav knew that not respecting such a weapon would be unwise—just as unwise as becoming its target. He had already dawdled too long, and if he didn’t now exceed its ability to track him, he would witness the gun’s power firsthand.

  He employed a now simple technique of the Approaching Infinity discipline he’d learned during his study of the Eighteen Heavenly Claws and leapt easily to the top of the Tower. He landed softly alongside the Lightning Gun, which he briefly studied. He didn’t have the technical knowledge to really appreciate the gun’s marvelous construction, but he was impressed with the state of its upkeep. The Lightning Gun was like new, probably cleaned and maintained daily. It had, according to Kapler, stood without being replaced or ever once failing for more than a thousand years. Hearsay maybe, perhaps a legend only, but Jav could believe it.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Raus Kapler said. He stood, arms folded, at the entrance leading down into the Tower.

  Kapler was huge. Jav thought he must be taller than Wheeler Barson who stood over two meters, but Kapler was thick with muscle and at least twice Barson’s bulk. In the dim light Jav could only determine that Kapler’s complexion was pale, but there was something else, a color that was unidentifiable and that was somehow unsettling. Kapler’s dark hair was combed back, neat and tidy, with only a hint of its length and its waves, and revealing a face, clear and expressive. Jav supposed that, though youthful in his appearance, Kapler did in fact look the part of king.

  “It is,” Jav said, approaching him and extending his hand in greeting.

  “I am Raus Kapler, regent of Sarsa.”

  “Jav Holson, Emissary of the Viscain Empire, Death Squad Specialist. Will you accept my hand in friendship?”

  Raus cocked an eyebrow as he took Jav’s diminutive hand. “Death Squad indeed. Is that armor? And will it—” A wide grin fell over Raus’s face. “You’re tiny, my friend, but I can see by your grip that you’ll have nothing to fear from Sarsan bullies. Extraordinary.”

  “These, Mr. Kapler,” Jav said, gesturing towards himself, “are the Kaiser Bones, my proof of office. If all goes as planned, you will receive something similar from the Viscain Emperor. Perhaps it would be a bit less distracting to continue without them for the time being, though.” Jav recalled the Kaiser Bones, which blew apart and became phantom shapes as they retreated in orderly procession into his spine. He wore a short, black leather jacket with a stand-up collar and a heavy steel zipper up the middle. His pants, also black, were light and baggy, fastened at the ankles. Snug black fabric shoes over white socks covered his feet.

&n
bsp; Raus’s grin widened. “Even less impressive, Mr. Holson. Which is to say that I’m very impressed. Let me show you in.”

  A dark and narrow set of spiral stairs led to a room that was more like a cockpit. The only light was cast by video readouts and displays of the Tower’s surroundings, both live images and schematic views with topological data and calculated range information clearly displayed. Situated within this nest of instrumentation was what Jav would thereafter always think of as the captain’s chair.

  “From here,” Kapler said, “one person alone can easily defend the Tower from anything. Except, perhaps, invasion from off-world.”

  Jav nodded, convinced. As he looked around, several small openings leading out from the cockpit room caught his attention and he grew curious. “May I?” he said.

  “Please. It’s not often that I can play host and brag about Kapler genius.”

  Jav smiled. With Raus behind him, Jav moved through one of the apertures and into a space far less cramped. The outer wall was a thick band of tinted glass. From what Jav could tell, the space and the glass that bound it wrapped around the entire Tower without interruption and provided perfect visibility in every direction.

  “Redundant firing controls,” Raus said.

  Jav cocked his head, not understanding.

  Now Raus smiled. “Activate firing control personnel protocol. Scan.”

  Probing laser light fell upon Jav, who watched the light wash harmlessly over him.

  “Subject recognized,” a pleasant, disembodied female voice said. “State name to complete protocol.”

  Raus nodded encouragingly.

  “Jav Holson,” Jav said.

  “Subject Jav Holson added,” the female voice said. “You may proceed with full administrative privileges.”

  “Thank you,” Jav said half to the voice and half to Raus. “Now what?”

  “Put your finger to the glass; put it over any target.”

  Jav did, but then looked back at Raus for the explanation that followed.

  “The system will calculate a trajectory for the actual target by comparing the position of your eyes and the direction of your vision with your finger’s contact point on the glass. All you have have to do is say. . .” and Raus mouthed the word “fire”.

  Jav turned his attention again to the glass, finding a target of already-scorched earth. “Fire,” he said.

  Even before finishing the word, the Lightning Gun flashed day from above and rained a jagged, liquid lash upon the ground, upon the very spot Jav had chosen.

  Jav nodded, impressed with the display. “Before, you said one man alone could defend the Tower against nearly anything; do the redundant firing controls respond to more than one user at a time?”

  Kapler smiled. “Of course, simultaneous discharge of up to ten forks, with only a thirty percent drop in power to each.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Family secret. I’ll give it up if the Emperor so decrees.”

  “Fair enough.

  “I’d like to walk the perimeter, to get a closer look at what you’ve got stacked against you here.”

  “I rarely leave the Tower these days, Specialist Holson. The automatic firing system is sound, but I wouldn’t trust it without living, thinking back-up. It’s just me, you see. My brother, he’s sick. I couldn’t leave him alone here.”

  Jav grinned. “You’re no longer alone, Mr. Kapler. I have 20,000 troops at my disposal.”

  “Here on Sarsa?” Kapler said, unable to hide his incredulity.

  Jav’s grin broadened. “Here. On Sarsa. And they’re yours to direct.”

  • • •

  Jav and Raus exited the Tower, heading straight out across the Black Fields towards the line of dissidents.

  “Specialist Holson, I see no army. I see only a collection of worn out men and women who’d like to see the last remnants of my family wiped off he face of the planet.”

  Raus’s breath caught momentarily in his chest as Jav went Dark, taking on the aspect of death itself.

  “That’s very disconcerting,” Raus said.

  “Apologies. You’ll get used to it, though.”

  Raus grunted.

  “A moment,” Jav said, bowing his head.

  After a few seconds of concentration, Jav looked up and cried out, “Rise!”

  In a rough circle that paralleled the arrangement of the anti-Kapler groups at a consistent distance of about twenty meters, real skeletons sprouted from the charred and broken ground. Each was like a gunshot, raising rocks and detritus with its passage, and each brandished a pole sword before it, aimed at the waiting revolutionaries.

  A few meters away from Jav, before him and to his left, seven more skeletons rose from the ground, fronted by one who seemed more than his fellows.

  “What is this? Magic?” Raus said.

  Jav shrugged. “Each of mine is at least equal to one of them,” he said, indicating those who would see Raus deposed. “Worth more on planets with lower gravity. And if mine fall, I can always call more.

  “You are not alone, Mr. Kapler. You have bargained with the Viscain Emperor, a god. So while your sovereignty and your titles are forfeit, you yet stand among undefeated conquerors—and,” Jav smirked invisibly beneath his skull helmet, cleared his throat, eyed Raus to his full height, and finished, “you stand tall.”

  Raus snorted, not quite sure how to take the remark.

  “Let’s walk the perimeter,” Jav said. “Rommel.”

  “Sir,” the lead skeleton said in a voice that was grinding stone.

  “This is Raus Kapler. You are to personally see to his safety.”

  “Sir.”

  “That’s unnecessary,” Raus said. “I can defend myself.”

  They walked just inside the encircling fence of skeletons, Rommel and his six charges a close distance behind, keeping pace.

  “A demonstration then of what Artifacts can do. You must be curious.”

  “I confess that I am. I am able to defend myself, Specialist Holson. You see, I am an expert in a style of Sarsan wrestling, which is all but lost to antiquity, my brother and I being the sole remaining practitioners.”

  Jav nodded.

  “And my father, with all his experiments to enhance the Lightning Gun, built into me,” Raus said, tapping his temple with two fingers, “further means to protect and to harm. Frankly, I cannot imagine what your Artifacts have to offer me.”

  Black pit skull eyes stared lifelessly for a moment at Raus before Jav turned, indicating with a wave of his hand 20,000 troops born from a foreign grave.

  “I have no doubts that you are a capable man, Mr. Kapler,” Jav said, “but you said yourself that you haven’t left your Tower in some time. I will not insult you by saying that you fear for your personal safety, but you do fear something nonetheless.”

  Jav turned to address the nearest of the long-waiting dissenters. “Today,” Jav shouted, “you will have a unique opportunity. Today you may try your hand against your king without fear of reprisal from the Lightning Gun. All you have to do is breach my line of soldiers.”

  Raus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

  There was a stirring from those on the other side of the skeletons, but no decisive movement.

  “Go on! Do my soldiers frighten you?” Jav cried. “Surely you are their betters. They may be your forebears, but they are dead, nothing but bone, while you are thick with muscle, with strong hearts pumping red blood and undiluted courage.” He paused, scanned the crowd, and let his words sink in before adding, “Or is it not so?”

  Several of the men were moved to rage and to action. With shouts snapping the tension, the entire encampment nearest them spilled over the intervening ground like oil from a drum to engage the bony, white troops.

  The skeletons did not fall back, did not budge, but met the oncoming rush cooly, mechanically, methodically, applying their uniform skill with Secret Track Pole Sword to bloody and riotous effect. Some came at the skeleto
ns with swords, some with axes or spears, some with heavy rifles, useless without precious ammunition except as unwieldy clubs.

  The other groups nearby watched in horror as their fellows were cut down by the automaton dead. There were no additional forays. The skeleton line held, unbroken, but was now washed with red and the ground was littered with rent corpses where the attackers had fallen. After a time some of the periphery groups thinned to cover the gap left by the carnage.

  “Shall I press?” Jav said.

  “No. But I would test their strength.”

  Jav waved a hand in humble invitation.

  Without voiced or visible command from Jav, several skeletons extracted themselves from various points along the line and made their way towards Raus. Raus held his arms out before him, fingers splayed and twitching with anticipation. When the first skeleton reached him, Raus took hold of its pole sword with one hand and dashed its skull to fragments and powder with his other, his blocky fist unmarked by the dingy bone. He used the acquired pole sword to disarm the next two attackers as they closed. With the flat of his hand he crumpled one, driving it to the ground, joints popping and splintering all the way down. He beheaded the next with his pole sword, even as the weapon was reduced to glittering metallic sand, too long removed from its original wielder.

  More skeletons swarmed over Raus, but none could breach his defense, which was, in fact, pure offense. He clove, broke, or crushed all that came at him. Jav watched him sink beneath pole swords, weaving his arms like snakes around arms and over shoulders to first lock and then break bones with liquid motion and implacable strength.

  After a time, it was impossible to tell how many skeletons had fallen, all of them broken and added to the piles of bones surrounding Raus. Finally he shouted, “Enough of this. Perhaps all 20,000 of your troops could best me in time, but I would have a real challenge. They sent you, Specialist Holson. You are strong for your size, but I am no ordinary Sarsan. Please don’t disappoint me by saying that your usefulness begins and ends with your morbid little army.”