Brooding over a headache and the appearance of several mysterious bruises, Beau woke up in the Prince Suite of the Eastern wing. Cursing everyone he could name, excluding himself, he staggered into his private bath where he took care of his necessities. Dressed down in a comfortable weekend uniform with trainers, he felt more human than the night before. His headache had even dulled to a throb by the time the first knock reminded him of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyVSF25nZRo
I’m a spy. I’m a spy. I’m a… really hungover spy. Looking through the peephole before opening the door, Beau admitted Boomer into the suite. “Where’ve you been?” he asked the bot.
“With Robocop,” Boomer said succinctly.
Beau waited a moment before asking, “Uh… why?”
Boomer noticed his annoyance and said in a rush, “Robert passed on his security responsibilities to me. Would you like me to go over those responsibilities in detail? I recorded all seven hours of dialog before he and your mother left for the airport.”
She didn’t even have me see her off. He couldn’t say he blamed her. Beau rubbed at his eyes before sitting heavily in one of the room’s lounge chairs. He groaned slightly before shaking his head. “No… Kind of. Ugh. I’m not ready for today. What time is it?”
“Exactly twelve-o-five.”
“P-M?”
“P-M.”
Beau groaned again. “I’m too old for this…”
Boomer said, “I must attend to the routes soon. Robert’s itinerary is very disorganized. I believe his charges will benefit from shorter, tighter shifts with a focus on quality over quantity. Fresh security is best security, I always say! Is there anything I can assist you with in the meantime?”
If he was annoyed before, now he felt exasperated. “Since when have you always said--?! Robert hijacked you to streamline my mother’s security force! I can’t believe this…”
Boomer emoted laughter as it said, “Yes, but he made a convincing argument. If any one of these very fleshy and very fallible guards fall out of check, you and your directive could be at terminal risk. It benefits our program if the security of this infrastructure is not only maintained, but improved. After all, the show must go on!”
Beau conceded that better security was not necessarily a bad thing, especially if it kept him alive. “Your TV maxims hurt me sometimes, Boom.”
“It doesn’t appear to be physical duress.”
“You’re right. It’s all in my head, but it still hurts.”
Boomer emoted laughter, then said, “If you need me, I’ll be making my rounds. Rounds! I have rounds now. I’m becoming a real, militarized asset.”
“Congratulations,” Beau grunted miserably and before he could say anything more, Boomer left the suite, making him wince in pain when the portal shut too forcefully. He got up a moment after that, drank three full glasses of water from the tap, and sat back down to take a nap. But just before he felt himself go under, there was another knock at the door that jerked him back to the present. He got up to answer it, hissing, “Boomer, I swear if your processor wasn’t--”
He opened the door in the same instant that a wave of electromancy blindsided him and he came face-to-face with his own startled reflection. He let out an embarrassing noise that sounded a bit like a rubber chicken getting caught in a door-jamb and promptly slammed the door shut before bracing his back against it.
“Oh… shit,” he whispered to himself as he put a hand to his thudding heart. The goddamn magnetic colossus! He chastised himself as he remembered the events of the previous night all at once. He must have fainted. He couldn’t remember anything between trying to say Budapest and waking up to cottonmouth and pain. “Oh, fuck me,” he grumbled. I just slammed the door on Emil Volya’s kid. I just slammed the door on one of the most notorious Doulosi in all of United America. Is this going to be a habit? Please, don’t let this be a habit. He steeled himself and turned to crack open the door. His mouth was dry despite the amount of liquid sloshing around in his bowels.
Leonid Volya was hunched over in the hallway, his stature making it difficult to comfortably navigate the smaller, less public villa corridors. “Good morning,” he greeted rather cheerily. His chipper voice had a robotic texture, unlike that of a traditional artifi who were made to emulate humanity to as close a degree as possible. He proffered Beau a plastic thermos full of what smelled like coffee and vanilla. As Beau took the warm cup reluctantly, Leonid’s other hand turned over and dispensed a couple headache tablets. Beau took them, but eyed him wearily before swallowing them dry. “Reckoned you wouldn’t be rearing to meet the day,” the Volya explained. “Do you slam the door on all your visitors?”
Beau sipped the coffee experimentally instead of answering. The inviting taste made him even more suspicious. Not even Robert knew he liked his coffee sweeter than sin. He frowned. “What are you?” he demanded irritably.
Despite being a glorified, overly large obsidian manikin, Leonid Volya managed to look taken aback as he said in confusion, “I’m… a Pisces?”
Beau blinked, waved a hand, shook his head. “No, I mean--! Are you human or…? What’s the deal with the whole robotic exterior business?” Beau managed to outwardly suppress his shock as the words practically fell out of his mouth.
Leonid didn’t take offence. In fact, he seemed relieved. The statue-like quality he took on when he wasn’t moving was a little uncanny, but now he animated, relaxing. “Oh! Right. This is an exosuit.”
“Oh,” Beau said eloquently.
“You sound disappointed,” Leonid remarked.
“Oh, uh, no! No… It’s just…” I don’t stutter around machines, he thought. Then, feeling a bit daring, he admitted: “I don’t really do people.” He growled at himself internally. Are you a sociopath?! Who says that?!
Leonid laughed, but it didn’t come off condescending. The suit said, “Well, you’re gonna do people today.” When Beau gave him a confused look, Leonid said, “Come on. I’m supposed to take you to the conference.”
“Conference?” Beau managed to get out as he followed after the hulking machine-man. “What conference?”
“All the big-wigs are meeting up to greet you. All the clan heads will be there… Well, all the clan heads in the Free Doulosi not working on Nina’s project anyway. So… little-wigs?”
Beau blinked a few more times, trying to play mental catch up. “And who died and made you my keeper? My mom doesn’t really think I need a babysitter… Does she?” He frowned again. “What’s your angle anyway? Are you going for some kinda play or--”
Leonid laughed again. “Relax. I’m not coming for your mantel or anything. I’m just your big, dumb muscle for the next three weeks.”
“Some muscle,” Beau said, knocking on the titan’s shoulder. It sounded like morpho-plexi to his hearing which startled him. But plexi is anti-magic, he thought. “What’s this thing running on anyway?” It felt like electromancy. He couldn’t be wrong about that.
Leonid suddenly stopped in the hallway and turned to face him, making him jump back a bit in surprise. The Volya was very still as he said in a clipped voice, “This suit is the only thing keeping me from going total Armageddon on the entire American Gulf… Give it it’s due respect and maybe I’ll show you how it works. For now, I need you to drink your coffee and focus.”
Beau narrowed his eyes. “Did your father really send you?”
“ … Yes.”
Beau blinked again. Was that hesitation or a lie? He was too hungover to tell. He just wanted to sleep and forget he was in a Doulosi stronghold. He shrugged outwardly and took a sip out of his coffee before moving to pass by the colossus. “Alright then…” He headed down the hall and Leonid followed. “So why ain’tchu takin’ charge while Mom’s away? You’re supposed to be the golden boy. Who’d you piss off?”
Leonid asked, “Do you even know where you’re going?”
Beau shrugged. “I usually just wander ‘til someone figures me lost.”
The walking bomb chuckled. “I reckon you’re lost. Come on.”
As they walked, Beau tried to figure out why someone would include anti-magic shielding in a flexible exosuit, but he couldn’t reconcile with the fact that the suit Leonid wore still gave off a magical signature. If it was truly a containment field of some kind, it wouldn’t have been giving off a signature at all.
Three possible answers presented themselves as he ran through the gives-and-takes.
The first hypothesis was simple: It’s not morpho-plexi, but some other material. Beau didn’t care for the notion. It was boring. And we’re thinking about a Volya here. The creme de la creme when it comes to renegades!
The second hypothesis intrigued him: Maybe someone has found a way to lace enough plexi together to create a normal anti-magic map, but… with interspersed molecule-wide spaces in the glass to allow magic to breathe in and out… effectively making a mage capable of casting magic while also repelling it at will. The downside with this hypothesis was the fact that morpho-plexi couldn’t be manipulated by magic, so the mage would have to know ahead of time what kind of spells--and to what degree he or she would cast them--before lacing those exact allowances into the mesh.
The third hypothesis scared him to death: That is a morpho-plexi suit with metal additions and he has enough magic in there that it’s literally bleeding through the fabric of reality. The human body isn’t capable of producing that much magic, let alone surviving it. Magic isn’t an exact thing; it varies from person to person… but there is no way in Heaven or on Earth that something like that exists and has a Midwestern accent! There’s just no way.
The immediate dismissal of the third hypothesis comforted him, but he wasn’t content with his first hypotheses either. Beau needed more data.
“Hey, we’re here.” Leonid snapped a finger. “You gonna make it, Collette? Or should I tell them you need more beauty rest?” It was difficult to tell if he was being serious or not, and it wasn’t just because his face was hidden behind a one-way glass helmet. He crossed his arms and Beau saw his bloodshot eyes reflected on the inscrutable face. Beau looked terrified. He’d never seen himself look terrified. Somehow it made being terrified worse.
Beau leaned to peer through the open door. He saw people standing all around an oval table. There were at least twenty mages aged anywhere between their mid-thirties to their mid-sixties mingling about, oblivious to his presence near the door. There were a few artifi stationed at the corners, carrying refreshment trays. There were no guards. There were no cameras. Beau knew that when he stepped through the door, his comm would lose its signal and he’d be cut off from the rest of the world.
You’re not afraid, are you?
A wad of anxiety uncoiled in his stomach.
“I can’t do this,” Beau blurted.
Leonid pulled the conference door shut and pulled him aside. “What?”
“I can’t do this,” Beau repeated. “You do it.”
“Excuse me?” Leonid demanded.
“You’re the fucking Savior’s son! I’m a human lover! A Doulosi baby killer! An Interceptor lackey! I go in there--I’ll get torn apart! I made a fool of myself last night in front of all those fuckin’ people. If I start talking, I’ll choke!”
Leonid let him get all the words out before he said, “Choking is not what you should be worried about.”
Beau glared at him. “You really think these fucking Doulos mages--”
“These people don’t give a fuck if you choke.”
Beau blanched. He didn’t know what to say.
Leonid put down his hands and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Just speak quietly.”
Beau gave him an incredulous expression. He didn’t like that his every facial twitch was reflected back at him. It made him feel self-conscious. It made him feel short. Feeling indignant rather than angry, he demanded in a hiss, “Speak quietly? How the hell is that--”
“You’re less likely to mess it up if you speak slow and quiet.”
“These people won’t listen to me if I fucking whisper!”
“Who says they’re gonna listen if you shout?”
Beau threw up his arms, splashing coffee onto the crown molding. “I don’t even know what to even say! Hey Folks, I’m Beau. I’m the dumbass in charge for the next few weeks. Please don’t kill me in my sleep!”
Leonid slowly nodded. “Little wordy. Better than nothing.”
“Fuck you, Man,”
Leonid laughed a little, leaning harder into the wall. He said, “Or… you could listen… and have a conversation with them.”
“Have a--Did you hear what I just--?”
Leonid waved him off a little weakly. His voice seemed far away. “I heard you, Collette… It’s like we’re just having a conversation.” He audibly sighed and stood up straight. He put his metal hands on Beau’s shoulders and gave him a little shake. “You’re not making a speech. You’re not here to impress anyone. God knows you don’t impress me, but… just like me, these people are here to keep you alive for the time being.”
“Why me?” Beau asked meekly. “Why’s it always have to be me?”
Leonid let him go. “Pep talk over. You can either go in there… or you can go back to your room.”
“You’ll go in if I leave?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?!”
Leonid actually scoffed. “Aren’t you supposed to be gathering intel for the Interceptors? How’re you supposed to do that if you’re being a coward?”
He’d been accused of worse. It still stung. “That’s none of your--”
“No, you’re right, it’s not,” the Volya snapped angrily. “Forget I mentioned it.” He took an obvious moment to calm down before he said, “Look, I promised your mother I wouldn’t make any power moves while she’s gone… If this place goes to Hell, it’ll be because you let it.” He took another audible breath before he said, “You have a responsibility to this place. I’d kill to be in your position.”
Beau saw how stricken his expression was. It was plastered all over Leonid’s helmet. But he also heard the longing in the machine-man’s voice. Maybe I’ve been too hasty to get away. I’ve got a new lab to look forward to… Fuck, I can’t do this… But it’s only three weeks. How many conferences could there honestly be? He glanced down at his white trainers and the spilled coffee. He took a tentative sip. He honestly sounds bummed about not being in charge… Maybe this is his chance to shine then. Mom could be testing him. It’s her style. That’s probably why he’s trying so hard to impress. Damn… and I’m just over here being a hard ass. He swallowed and asked tentatively. “What… What would you do if you were in my position?”
Leonid opened the conference room door. “I wouldn’t keep my people waiting any longer. That’s for sure.”
“Fuck…” Beau hissed under his breath. “Fuck.”
Leonid chuckled, giving him a push into the room. “That’s the spirit.”
As the door shut, Beau saw him fumble with something. A needle? He blinked hard, confused, but then the door closed. He slowly turned around. Everyone found their seats and quieted down without prompt. Then someone pulled out a chair for him and he slowly sank onto it.
He realized a little belatedly that he was the only one wearing a civilian’s designated uniform. Everyone else was decked out in colors and shades of every variation. It seemed chaotic to him--wanton and proud. It made him uncomfortable. Don’t they know it makes them look like… Free Doulosi. He finished the thought with a bit of a frown. I’m an idiot.
Dorothea, Nina Collette’s head-of-house, spoke up with a small smile, “Everyone mind yourselves. A Collette sits at the head of the table.”
“W-W-Was I… Um… ?” Beau began, but the words kept dying in his mouth. They were all watching him. Someone laughed awkwardly and he felt a tingling in the bottom of his feet. He felt like he was sweating buckets, but he knew it was just his imagination. Was it cold? Were his nipples hard? Could they see through his shirt? Why was his mouth so dry? He cleared his throat a little too loudly and said quietly, “I’m sorry… Was I… supposed… to stand?”
There was a brief hiccup in the universe as everyone took a moment to process exactly what he said and then a crystal clear laugh rang out across the table. A woman with thick, black liner around her doe-brown eyes gave him a broad grin from her seat at the end. She was the only one in the room wearing dark, earthy-colored clothing. She put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry…”
Dorothea was smiling too. She said, “No. You’re fine… How was sleep?”
“Heard you got tanked last night,” a man in blue said to his right.
“Robocop’s secret stash!” a girl in pink shrieked. “Jealous!”
“Hyper-jealous, Dude,” a man in green said off to the side.
“You’ve really got a Volya working for you?” someone asked.
“A Volya, Gretchen? You mean The Volya,” someone replied.
“Shmetails.”
Dorothea asked, “We went for synthetic cotton since we didn’t know if you had an allergy--”
“To cotton, Dot? Really? The man’s particular, not broken.”
“Cotton allergies are pretty common, Jethro," someone said in a reasonable voice. "You sayin’ everyone with a cotton allergy is--”
“Yeah. Broken.”
“I have a cotton allergy.”
“Like I said: Broke.”
Someone asked Beau, “Are you gonna host poetry night now that Nina’s--”
“God help us! Poetry night, Carl?!”
“At least bring back Mongolian Barbeque Mondays.”
“Forfucksake, Blake, no one gives a shit about Mongolian Barb--”
“Mr. Beauregard, have you seen the rose gardens out in Heath--”
“No one cares about the rose gardens, Thorn--”
People started slowly rising out of their seats. It was a gradual thing. Eventually the artifi’s stepped from the walls and passed out drinks and tea sandwiches. Beau found himself awkwardly holding a small sandwich and a glass of orange juice, his back straighter than a freshly driven fencepost. He had no idea what was going on, but he couldn’t hear himself think. He eventually started eating the tea sandwich, only because it was made out of his favorite kind of onion cream cheese and slices of fresh cucumber. These taste like what Rob used to make, he noted as he finished the little thing and then stuffed another into his mouth.
Eventually the voices quieted down again and everyone watched him as he pulled a third tea sandwich and washed it down with juice. When he realized they were waiting for something, he self consciously put a fourth sandwich down and brushed his hands off on his pant legs. “Well… I had a good… night’s sleep… and I’m…” Speak quietly. Speak quietly. “Glad to be here.” He didn’t know if he meant it, but he sounded like he meant it. “I’ve… never… really…” He swallowed, uncertain for a moment. Then he made eye contact with Dorothea and said, “I’ve never really been around… other… Doulosi.”
This generated another onslaught of voices as people expressed their surprise and their disbelief, and it became absolutely clear that he would have to address their concerns. He waited until they were quiet again. They were quicker to quiet down this time around, he noted. He said slowly, “I-I-I…” He took a breath. He closed his eyes. He counted to three. He rattled off: “I’m an electromancer. I-I make mmmachines. I don’t… do people. I didn’t--I didn’t grow up… with my mom… because… it was dangerous… I have a friend in New York. His name is Monroe. He’s a p-polymancer. He does neuromancy and auramancy. He’s the only Doulosi I’ve ever been… around.” He took another deep breath when he realized they were still listening. He made eye contact with a few of them. Some of them had comm implants. Others prodded at him with magic. Could they sense it? Could any of the neuromancers read him? Could they tell he wasn’t made for this? He looked down at the table and said stiffly, “I don’t want to lie to anyone… I’m not… I’m not very good at… I… I…” He felt it. He could feel it in the back of his throat. He could feel the squeeze. He was going to choke. He opened his mouth, but nothing else came out.
The woman with thick eyeliner was still smiling reassuringly at him. It made him sick. It felt like a pity smile. But then she said, “‘Ey, we’ve all been there. Grant’s a pretty lousy speaker too,” which made him look up in hopeful surprise.
The man in green across from her shook his head and put his reddening face into his hands as everyone laughed. He grumbled, “It was one time. One time!” Someone in one of the perimeter chairs slapped his back a couple times sympathetically.
“Pissed himself,” someone in blue said, leaning over.
“Himself, the stage, part of the orchestra pit…” the liner lady said, listing them off her fingers.
“Zelda!” Grant whined.
“Ah, you know I love you, Bro.”
Beau found himself smiling as the room broke out in various conversations again. He felt the pressure start to lessen a little. He slowly ate his fourth sandwich. He was following it with a sip of juice as someone asked him, “So, where’s Nina gone?” He turned to answer them, but realized he didn’t know the answer… but he couldn’t let it go. The room had gone quiet again, anticipating his reply.
He took a deep breath and said, “She… said it was revolutionary… but it’s dangerous the more people know… I’m sorry.”
“Aww,” someone said, but it wasn’t filled with any heat.
“So, what will you be working on?”
“Yeah, what’s your project?”
“Nina said you were working on something in New York.”
“Something that’s going to change the world!”
“You’re an inventor, right?”
“I’m a technomancer, myself.”
“Yeah, when you’re not blowing any breakers, Grant.”
“Let’s not get all attacky, Audette.”
“It’s in my nature.”
“Was he doing something with robots?”
“Like with Boomer?”
“I love Boomer! I asked her for a hug today and she just gave me one!”
“Liar.”
“Okay, maybe I hugged her. Same, same.”
“That’s adorable, Frieda.”
“Says the artifi-lover.”
“More ass than you’ll ever get, Sky.”
“Alright!” Dorothea called out, waving her hands. “That’s quite enough…” She waited for everyone to settle down before she looked to Beau at the head of the table. “The lieutenants can leave. Every clan head will stay behind.”
“What?” Beau stated.
As people began filing out of the room, pushing in chairs, and escorting the artifi out of the room, Dorothea took her legitimate place to his left side and said to him in a low voice, “They all wanted to see you in the flesh before some of them go home… but now your job begins in earnest.”
“Shit,” Beau mumbled under his breath.
“G’bye, Beauregard!”
“Afternoon, Mr. Collette.”
“Don’t bare your neck, Kid.”
“Bye, Mr. Beau.”
“Good luck, Collette.”
“Say Hi to the Volya for us, will you? Big fans an’ all.”
As more people gave their well-wishes, the old woman gave him a sly smile and patted his hand. “There, there. Think of it like medicine.”
“Like… rrrippin’ off a b-bandaid?”
“More like breaking a leg.” She winked at him as his face flushed.
When the room was all but cleared out, there were only nine people left, excluding Beau. Dorothea stood up and made eye contact around the room, starting at the end of the table. “I won’t expect Mr. Collette to remember all of us right off the bat, but this will serve as a quick primer.”
She gestured to the relatively younger woman with heavy eye makeup. “Zelda Jasahn, Leader of the Subtle Mages. Ten to her number.” Zelda gave him an encouraging smile.
“Forty of us belong to the Lamplighters Clan, headed by Orion Savat.” A middle-aged man in blue pushed up his glasses and gave a polite nod.
“Eighty-four of our mages belong to the Waterworks, led by Jay Willis.” A woman in tight, multi-colored clothing gave Beau a disdainful look out of the corner of her hazel eyes as she moved a lock of wavy blonde hair from her face, but otherwise she made no move to acknowledge him.
“Griffin Hawes leads the Spinner Clan. His family numbers fifteen.” The man Dorothea pointed at had a full beard and droopy blue eyes.
“Fourteen,” Hawes corrected her seriously.
Dorothea flinched as she dropped her hand slightly. “Yes… Fourteen.” Then, regaining her composure, she gestured at another man, this one in his eighties by the look of his spotted skin. “And, the last of our clan heads, but certainly not the least of us… Aiden Balefield, one of the last Watchers.”
Balefield held up one shaking finger. Does that mean wait? Or he’s number one? Beau looked around to see if anyone would provide him with more context, but he got none. He simply nodded at the old man who gave him a gummy grin in return.
Then Dorothea addressed the three individuals nearest them. “And of course, we have what remains of the Collette Clan here with us today.” She ran her hand from right to left, her palm pointing at each man in turn. “Cedar, our Chef and general nurse practitioner.” A man with red hair and dark eyes nodded to him with a small smile. “Thorn, our quartermaster.” A teenager in a baggy red jumpsuit gave him a lazy salute. “And Audette, our records custodian.” The final man was thin, his face shaped like a hatchet. He had unsettling crimson irises that seemed to bore right into Dorothea.
The old woman didn’t notice--or maybe she ignored him--as she looked around the room one more time, nodding at each in turn. She then turned to Beau and gave him a nod as well, like she was playing telephone with the silent regard. “Have you anything to say until next we meet?”
“That’s, well…” Beau slowly stood up when he couldn’t immediately form the words. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. It felt right, anyway. “I… look forward to working with you… and…” They waited patiently for him to find his measure. When he did, he said sincerely, “I look forward to making the most of my time here… and welcome any advice you may have… I… will do my best… while I’m…” He let out a short laugh and wondered if it sounded as panicked as he suddenly felt. “I’m no Nina Collette, but I’ll try not to fuck it all up too badly.”
Zelda and Thorn laughed out loud at that and even the otherwise grave-looking Hawes managed a quick smile.
Aiden Balefield held up his shaking hand again, and rasped in an English accent, “You only um-ed one time, in all. Nina always um-s at least four times during her shortest refrains. You’ve my vote, Boy.”
At that, they all stood as one and nodded toward him in small bows, their arms at their sides like soldiers. Dorothea said, “Welcome to Casa del Lavoro, Beauregard Collette. We live to serve.”
“We live to serve!” They all shouted and Beau tried not to flinch.
“I…” Beau wanted to echo his mother’s sentiments, I live to serve, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded and said, “Thank you…” and waited for a moment before he mumbled, “I dunno--Do I say you’re all free to go or…?”
Dorothea grinned at him before she barked, “Dismissed!”
They all relaxed, laughing aloud at each other’s previously stern expressions. Most of them were in good spirits as they filed over and shook Beau’s hand. He was still overwhelmed by all their patience with him, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what would be polite, so he just shook their hands and spoke quietly and listened when they talked.
As soon as Dorothea yet remained, she turned to him slightly. There was a film of moisture across her gaze as she took off and wiped at her glasses. When they were perched back on her nose, she let her expression cool into professional indifference. She shook Beau’s hand with her spidery digits and said, “You will do just fine.”
It was the sincerest vote of confidence he’d heard yet. He smiled at her in response, and was still smiling when he practically danced out of the conference room a few minutes later (after he'd had a moment to sit and breathe deeply while imagining the sweet hum of a new, industrial-grade 3D printer running through its initial diagnostics checks).
"Went well, I take it?" Leonid Volya asked from across the hallway.
Beau puffed up a bit. "If you must know--"
"Jahsan wants to see you when you've got time."
"Well, I can--"
Leonid shook his head. "I told her later. Right now, we're on Dorothea Time and Dorothea Time hates me more than she does. I'm supposed to take you to the lab, but you're the boss."
"Dot's as sweet as they come," Beau managed to say as he followed the Volya, surprised Leonid even allowed him to say that much without interruption.
"Of course she's sweet to you. You're important."
The implied inverse made Beau laugh out loud, but then he realized Leonid wasn't joking. "You're Emil Volya's only son," he said, as if he was making a point.
Leonid treated him to a dark laugh, but didn't reply.
"So… lab?" Beau asked after they crossed into the North wing of the manse and started skirting past people getting ready to egress enmasse. "You said--"337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkmrapwyXUV
"Dorothea said you'd get full access. I didn't ask questions."
Beau sniffed. He could only imagine what Dorothea counted as a lab. He said as much and the machine-man shrugged at his wonderment. Struggling to find something to talk about, Beau asked casually, “So are you a technomancer? I’ve seen exosuits like yours in New York, but most of them are issued to police and… Well, they’re white just like everything else. Plus, yours is scaled up. Are you packing some kind of chem-layer? Or did you just do it for the intimidation factor?”
Distractedly, Leonid said, “I’m over two meters tall. All the standard suits only extend to one-eighty. If I didn’t scale it up, I’d’ve had to cut off my feet.”
“You’re actually seven feet tall without the suit?”
“Yep.” He seemed bored by that line of questioning. He probably was.
“Oh… So you’re not a technomancer?”
“Nope.”
“Then how come your suit generates an electromagnetic field?”
Leonid glanced at him over his shoulder. “You’re an electromancer?”
Beau laughed at him. “I dunno if that was sarcasm or--Yeah, I’m an electromancer. Just don’t ask me to fix your comms. I’m more of a hardware guy.”
“Nina is a full pyromancer though,” Leonid said after a moment.
“Genetics. My grandfather on my father’s side was an astrapomancer.”
“Wouldn’t that make your father--”
“My father was a Null. His magic never manifested.”
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
“It’s all in the Punnett Squares, Man,” Beau said, tapping the side of his head with a smirk. “A couple generations of mixing around combinations and eventually you’re going to produce something strange…” He tapered off then. He thought, If I hadn’t felt something for killing that sonuvabitch, I probably woulda never found out about Grandad… I wonder if Mom knows. Did she ever wonder why I was so different? Or did she just blame the rape for all the differences?
“Both my parents are polymancers,” Leonid said, pulling him from his thoughts. “My father thinks that magic is intrinsic. You either have mastery over it from birth or you don’t… but my mother thinks that all magic is like a muscle. If you have the capacity for it, you can strengthen your grasp of it.”
They passed through a door and were assaulted by daylight. Squinting, Beau made his way after the machine-man. They slipped behind a privacy wall of hedges and hydrangeas and wound their way along a footpath until they came to the greenhouse.
To himself, Beau said, He still hasn’t told me what kind of mage he is. I think I’ll sleep easier if I know I’ve got a heliogunner or a coinshot looking out for me. Hell, I’d even take an oracle! What other reason could he have for keeping it secret? He considered the suit then. Going Armageddon sounds pretty serious, but the only thing I can imagine that comes close to that are magic fluctuations… and those cats always die after going supernova. Hypotheticals still running through him, he said, “I’m on the fence.” He took in the earthy smell of roses and freshly turned mulch, then said, “Maybe it’s a combination of both. What do you think?”
They turned right at the greenhouse and continued along its outside until they came to another privacy wall. Then, through an archway covered in English ivy, they came upon a rather inconspicuous building covered in tan stucco and red shingles. It was walled in, separated from the other buildings. There were small bushes that lined its outside, but they were stunted and wilting in the heat. Beau nearly jumped out of his skin as an old, outdoor air conditioning unit turned on without ceremony.
Leonid chuckled a bit and said, “I think you should do the honors.” He gestured to the rust-colored sheet metal door. “Give it a stamp of approval.”
“Looks like a bunker entrance more than a lab space,” Beau mumbled as he took the doorknob and gave it a twist and a push. Then, he teleported.
There was no other way to explain what he saw. One moment, he was standing on the outside of a dated, ‘30s era stucco shack… and in the next, he was standing in a post-contemporary, technological paradise. It was simply uncanny. He barked, “Lights on full,” and the glittering room exploded into a chrome masterpiece.
Leonid came in after him and closed the door. He whistled from inside his helmet. “Huh… This is a lot nicer than Dot let on,” he admitted. “I thought I was gonna have to defend her choice in wallpaper or something.” Then, noticing Beau’s slack-jaw, he said, “Nina asked her to get the techs in the house to get something together for you. What kind of work did you do for that company? I’m not a plexing mechbaby, but… I don’t know what half this stuff does.”
“Do,” Beau said airily, then he went to the printer toward the back of the room.
“Excuse me?”
The electromancer swept his hands over the frame of the printer. It wasn’t as tall as the one at his lab in New York, but it came up to his hip and it jutted from the wall almost three feet. He could make some basic auxiliary drones with that kind of space. He could also make the pieces for some more complicated bots, provided it--Yes! It had a casting attachment as well. It didn’t have the same amount of space, but it was capable of producing metal pieces with a high level of detail and integrity.
He went over to the computer to its left and turned it on. It took several minutes to boot up. During that time, he said, “Do. I still work there. This is technically a paid vacation.”
“Ah. Right. You’re not really Doulosi. I forgot.” Before Beau could muster a reply, Leonid shook his head and crossed his arms, banging metal on metal gruffly. “Just ignore me. I’m just supposed to be dumb muscle…” He seemed to be insisting that to himself more than Beau.
Discomfited, Beau asked, “Why did your father send you? Did my mom try to invite him? Do you know why?”
“She’s been trying to get him back out here for the last twenty years,” Leonid said. “But this time… Well, here I am. He thinks I’ll lose faith in the Free Doulosi cause by coming out here and helping. Worst case scenario, I’ll do something stupid and get myself killed… but he’s wrong about me. And he’s wrong about this place. I’m not just trying to weasel my way in here because I think I have some right to it.”
“Just?” Beau asked with a snort.
“I’m also trying to prove to Dad that it’s still a fight worth backing.”
“But is it?” Beau asked. “Have you been to the city yet? Have you seen how Doulosi are treated? We’re taken care of now. The rest of humanity needs us. Without us, progress will come to a stand-still.”
“Progress has been at a standstill for fifty years,” Leo snapped. Then he shook his head again and relaxed his stance. He sighed and said, “I’m going to learn to shut my mouth one of these days…”
Beau shrugged. “Hey man, what doesn’t rock my boat won’t capsize me.”
Leonid seemed surprised by the idiom. “Hm. That’s a pretty open stance.”
Beau laughed and turned back to the computer as it came to life. “Well, I might have words if I thought you meant anything by it. Like if Mom said progress was hindered by mankind's preventing magic from running its due course or something… but that’s because I know she’s full of hot air and regret. You at least get a youth-pass.”
“What do you mean by hot air and regret?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who thinks the Collette family saved the cause from the brink…” He glanced over his shoulder then and snorted. “Oh damn! You’re a war hero subscriber?!”
“I wouldn’t say war hero subscriber ne--”
Beau laughed out loud. “Oh boy, am I gonna love bursting all your mother fuckin’ bubbles!” But then he felt that sounded too harsh, so he added, “I mean… Yeah, she united all the gangs and clans and families and stuff, but that’s all she’s done in two decades. Oh, alright, okay, she’s also gotten a lot of people killed… She’s made any Doulosi not sanctioned by the Interceptors a target of suspicion… She’s made it more difficult for people to trust mages… Oh! And she’s been one of the few people to openly admit she’s a homegrown terrorist bent on bending humanity over one knee and tanning its hide.” He smirked as he brought up the holographic display and started manipulating the printing program. “She’s no war hero,” he concluded.
After a few minutes of fiddling with the basic parameters of the press, Leonid asked him, “Why did you agree to come if you hate her so much?”
Beau hesitated before he said, “She had to have told you. If she didn’t, I'll be shocked… I’m spying for the Interceptors. I’ve got a handler named Inkblot that I’m supposed to send findings to… It’s so I can get a new printer back home.”
Leonid had gone statuesque again. “I don't know if I should label you a terrible son or a terrible spy.”
Beau shrugged. “This house is full of neuromancers. It’s not like I could have kept it a secret for long.”
“Why wouldn’t the Corps mask that information?”
“That would have been more of a red flag and you know it.”
Leonid still didn’t move as he said, “Well, if they knew the freedom fighters would find out… They were counting on Nina not killing you because you’re her son… You think that’s why Nina’s left to go work on her project? I mean, do you think she’d still be here if you weren’t a spy?”
“No… I do think she wanted to show me though,” Beau said, and he managed to feel a tiny amount of regret.
“What do you think it is?”
Beau shrugged, refocusing on his work. “Could be anything… A weapon… A piece of damning anti-Interceptor propaganda, sure to challenge the espionage landscape for another couple generations… An off-shore nuclear manufacturing plant… You’d have a better time of guessing than me. I haven’t really spent time with her in the last ten years.”
“Why not?”
“W-Why not? Haven’t you ever wanted to get away from your parents?”
“No. I love my parents.”
Beau rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. I mean...Haven’t you ever felt disconnected from 'em? Like…” He sighed. He felt like a teenager again, trying to explain his angst to Rob. “Have you ever felt like they wouldn’t understand something you’re going through?”
Leonid leaned against one of the counters covered in bottled chemicals. “I didn’t manifest any kind of magical prowess until I was seventeen.”
Beau tried to imagine not being able to do magic and couldn’t. His earliest memories all included magic. He then tried to imagine a miniature beetle-black exosuit as the child in a harmonious nuclear family portrait and completely failed. But he could imagine being the son of a famous Doulosi rebel. He could imagine being different from that parent… and being treated differently because he wasn't the exact clone of that parent.
"That must have been hard with your parents being the legends they are," Beau said and he meant it.
Leonid relaxed. "Maybe we've got more in common than I realized." Then he stopped leaning and walked around the perimeter of the room, touching various instruments. "We both agree your mother is full of herself." Beau laughed. Emboldened, Leonid said, "We both agree that the way things are divided is not the way they should be…"
Beau considered the vague wording for a moment, but then nodded at his computer screen. "Agreed."
"And I would hazard a guess that we agree that pineapple has every right to be on pizza, same as any other topping."
Beau turned at that, a disgusted look on his face. "Blasphemy! Where would it end?! Next thing you know, they'll be putting apples on it and calling it something marketable… like, All-American Pizza Pie-Pie!" He shivered in horror.
Leonid waggled his metal fingers dismissively. "Alright, so we disagree on one thing… for now."
"Why's that sound so much more sinister than it actually is?" Beau wondered out loud as he finished his calibrations.
"What're you going to print?"
"I don't know yet…"
"What did you do for your tech company?"
"A lot of things. I printed hospitality robots mostly."
"That, uh, seems… interesting." Boring, he surely meant.
Beau gave him a half-smile and said, "Mostly. My passion project is--Well, I'm under an NDA for the majority of it, but what I can tell you is I'm basically searching for souls."
"Excuse me?"
Beau laughed. "Everytime you say that, I imagine some old man with a constipated look on his face!" He went over to the laboratory pylon and opened up its service panel. "It looks like… I might be able to do some small experiments for it here. But there's probably not enough juice to do anything bigger than bacteria."
"You mean souls, as in soul-souls?" Leonid floundered. "The vital force in all of us that goes elsewhere when we die?"
Beau beamed. "Exactly. A soul-soul."
"There's no such thing."
Beau frowned. "Well, can you disprove it?"
"Well… No. But that's because there's no scientific evidence that… Oh. You're trying to find that evidence, that's what you're saying."
"Call it consciousness then. Call it self-awareness. Call it sentience… Call it God or Chi or Life Force or Glabermow-Fratudo-Bleck--There has to be something that binds all living things together. There just has to be."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOfSadBIGFw
"A food chain."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGXVSat04Hx
"W-What?"
"Food chains bind organisms together."
Beau took a moment to realize he was joking. "Oh, shush, ya… no-heart-havin'-ass tin man…" He flipped through the pylon's switches and found the pattern he wanted on for its default configuration. "I might… continue working on that project while I'm here since there's a private space and I have time… but I think that's exactly what my mom wants. She wants me out of the way, not asking questions, not rocking any boats."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhTMZazaVyN
"What will you do?" Leonid asked.
Beau sighed. "She knows me too well."
Leonid huffed, unimpressed. "Well, you're the boss."
"What would you do then? If you could be king for three weeks?"
The colossus thought about it while Beau rearranged the chem bottles into a pattern he was familiar with. When he was on the last row, Leonid said, "You've got five clan reps staying in the villa. What were their temperaments?"
"Happy to see me," Beau said with an indulgent smile.
"Mm."
"Well… there was this blonde bitch that didn't care for me."
That got Leonid's attention. "Who? What family?"
"I think she was in charge of the hydros. She has the biggest clan, so that would make sense."
"Jay Willis of the Waterworks," Leonid confirmed, making a grating sound as he rubbed a metal hand against his plexi chin in thought. "She could be a problem."
"P-Problem?"
"Her father tried a nasty take over back in the late '50s. Luckily the Lamplighters kicked them into submission, but only after Jay's mother was killed in the contest."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvYpWmnBacb
"Jesus."
"Jay's not exactly a loyalist. I wonder why your mother didn't take the Waterworks with her. They're numerous, if not skilled. Makes them good for raids and general security--especially since Jay's got a couple hemomancers in her ranks."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ65ifizWFiI
"Hemomancers… Blood mages? That's a thing?"337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoUoFWPfWAi
"Are you really that surprised?"
"No… I guess I've just never really thought about it." Then Beau narrowed his eyes again. "How come you know so much about all this Free Doulosi business when you only just got back into the fold yourself?" 337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb5HovoH60D
"I have a photographic memory," Leonid said, looking over Beau's arrangement. He took a couple bottles and looked them over before he popped them back in their original spots. Then he said, "But, I'm also a cheat. I have all their Corps dossiers."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJnPxNKiVkF
"How do you have--?"337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXE8D5VB8qa
"I'm not an Interceptor," Leonid said with a chuckle, "But my uncle Liam is Imperator. I call in a favor every now and then." He counted on one hand. "Well, I've got two left. After that, he's allowed to hunt me down without reservation. It's a deal he and my mom agreed to when I was a kid."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcMX8UbgGA9
"You're joking?"
"Nope. They've even got a file on you."
Beau's stomach did a flip flop. "Well, of course they do. I'm working with them."
"And you're the son of enemy number one no less."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8pyVoL2yR3
Beau gave him a look of chagrin. "What's it say?"
"Dunno. Haven't read it yet."
Beau narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"
Leonid shrugged. "It's cheating, remember. Cheating always sucks the fun out of things."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjtNWHuyr7z
"You've already read it," Beau accused.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjQcNO1xQ7z
"I skimmed it."
"So?"
"It's skinny compared to the other profiles. I'll comm it to you. There's nothing embarrassing in it… Well, maybe a few baby pictures."
"You're lyin'."
"Name's Leo. Of course I'm a lion."
Beau blinked a few times and pat the chems in finality. "Alright… I think I've done enough prep for now. Let's go back inside and talk at Zelda before you start leaking puns."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZQNg3wwZDe
"Oh, is my pun setting too high? Lemme just make some quick changes and then I'll reset my tin man heart."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNxCwpFFye1
Beau rubbed at his face. "Lights off."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL7MyE9qZwF
As they filed outside, Leonid said from behind him, "I'll think of something to do after you talk to Zelda. I have a feeling she's going to make some suggestions of her own, but I want to know her angle for certain first before making any moves... as long as that's alright with you."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMfkTu6c1h5
"That's fine for now," Beau said. "Just keep the dad jokes to a minimum."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqqdCeIE2sL
