Nrog flicked a motilator toward Usk. “What of you, insect? Do you know how to summon the Master? You crouch there like some deep sea turtle. Do you not know how to activate this box?”
Usk wavered a drooping antenna, an indication of the negative.
“Basilursk, torture these hostiles. Start with the human girl.”
“Wait!” cried Miko, desperate and flush-faced. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He limped over and squatted before the pale-glowing box of mystery. The enemy guards glided forth, not trusting Miko or his moves. Mentera weapons lifted. Miko studied the device. The knee-high box was featureless but for a series of wide, grooved indentations on its right side. He passed his fingers lightly over them and the bare, smooth side and top. No effect. The box was unusually heavy for its compact size. When he tried to lift it, it took most of his strength. Easier to slide, he mused. But tilting it on its edge allowed him to scan the underside.
Nothing there. The other guards pressed closer, chitters in their mouths, curious as cats. Jring’s aides trained blasters on him. Miko tried various prods and knocks on the outer surface—to no avail. Only blue hard stuff, but it felt slightly warm to the touch. Just as he was about to accept defeat, an eerie peach glow lit on the box’s side and projected a conelike beam…a familiar form stood illuminated: the simulacrum.
An ugly figure, floating three feet off the ground.
The locusts recoiled and trained lumo weapons. Nrog’s squids flung tentacles at it. A humanoid creature of some sort: tall with yellow eyes and hairless hooded skull. The thing was neither male nor female—some androgynous creature, with short forelimbs and long bare feet graced with four hairy toes. Like some giant, humanoid, primitive ape.
The image swayed and leveled its otherworldly gaze at Nrog. “Greetings, creatures from a far future age. I see Miko has introduced you to me.”
All gathered shuffled back in surprise.
“What are you?” Jring crowed. He shook his locust head, recovering his composure. “State your purpose.” Though his truculent demand fell short as only superficial pretense.
“As you wish,” came the AI voice, with something of an imperial timbre. Its horrid grin lit an improbable face. The being’s words translated into three languages via the devices attached to the presiding creatures’ antennae, tentacles and ear buds.
“I am the simulacrum of the ageless Masters,” it intoned. “A proxy, hidden on Kraetoria for an age. Our race is gone. Yet our essence lives on in the form of electronics and synthetics like what you see, though it be beyond your grasp.”
“We’ll be the judge of that!” Nrog snapped.
“Perhaps, but the truth must be spoken. You will discover that I only speak in truths.”
“We shall see,” Jring said. “Start with an explanation of your presence on Kraetoria.”
“That is a discourse too lengthy to deliver. Suffice it to say that our presence has been not without advancement. Furthermore, it is a joy and privilege to behold such marvelous creatures of the Masters’ design.”
“What do you mean? Do you suggest we are a product of your Masters’ whim?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Where is your proof?” Nrog sputtered.
Miko felt a cold shudder run up his spine. He could not help but recall the disturbing revelation conveyed by this luminous creature in the bunker on Kraetoria—that humans were created from the same source. Grown in vats, bred as experiments down in some hidden lab on Kraetoria. Could humans and godless Zikri and Mentera have been created from the same essence? The prospect chilled Miko’s to the bone.
“You mean even us, humans?” Star wailed.
The proxy grinned back at her. “My database recalls your distress in our last meeting, human. You seem to have trouble grasping that everyone has a creator, even myself.”
“Answer the question!” Jring persisted.
“My circuits advise me to ask you this instead, Princeps. Do you think your allied war is merited enough that its fruits will outweigh the cost?”
Jring scoffed. “Of course. Why else go through all this ordeal and ally ourselves with such violent creatures as the Zikri?”
Nrog glared, as if such words stung. His black, beady eyes glowered with a tinge of malice.
The proxy continued with curious amazement, “Do you not think these humans will rise up and retaliate against you? The same whom you persecute, kill and enslave for food?”
“They are weak and insignificant,” declared Nrog. “Tadpoles to be scooped up in nets.”
“Like these humans who have single-handedly slipped through your net and defy you?”
Nrog gave a rumble of scorn. “They are nothing but a pack of lowly fugitives, nobodies. A broken-down NOA spy, some human female from a backward planet with no military skills, a rebel locust missing a claw. It’s laughable.”
Jring spoke up, “And yet, here they are, Nrog, infiltrating our fleets, killing your soldiers with the help of the rogue Zikri skulking about our own shared planet on Kraetoria. They steal our ships and kill our pilots.”
“That’s not entirely true. We are both stooges here, Jring. How many of your own locust guards have been killed by these ragtag rebels?”
“The numbers have not been ascertained.”
The simulacrum slapped its ape-like hands on its thighs in a gesture of satisfaction. “It delights me to see you at loggerheads.”
“Shut up,” chittered Nrog. He glided before Miko who glowered up at him. “I will ask you again, human, who are you and who sent you?”
Miko licked his lips, seeing Nrog’s minions arching tentacles toward him, ready to throw him in a tank. “I am a NAVO officer. Lieutenant Miko Almstran. Usk and Star are my friends. I picked them up along the way.”
“NAVO doesn’t exist!” roared Nrog.
“They
