How did this happen?
In all honesty, Zylar was still bewildered by current events. Earlier, Miralai had hurried him out of her residence, then later, she’d contacted him with an emergency that she wouldn’t explain, begging him to watch over her clutch.
“Please,” she had pleaded. “I can trust no one else.”
Impossible to deny such a request, though he wondered how Beryl would feel about it. Now, he was settled uncomfortably in her creche with Snaps curled up next to him. The fur-person had smelled all six eggs before decreeing them far less interesting than tiny green dirt dogs, and he’d promptly gone to sleep, leaving Zylar to brood. Before rushing off, Miralai had selected an edifying range of music to soothe and stimulate her unhatched offspring by turns.
She hadn’t informed him of where she was going or when she would be back. When Ryzven learned who was guarding his nest, he wouldn’t be amused. Not even slightly.
Which made the endeavor even more worthwhile.
His hearts trembled when one of the eggs vibrated, and every part of him snapped alert. Not now. One of their progenitors should be here for such a momentous occasion, not a stand-in. “You have to wait,” he said sternly.
Miralai hadn’t told him how close these young ones were to hatching, and it could be disastrous if they imprinted on him instead. Fortunately, the music shifted to a quiet melody and the activity subsided, letting his pulse return to its normal baseline. Until now, it had never occurred to him how tedious a nest-guardian’s life must be, especially when their Chosen avoided responsibility.
Snaps stirred sleepily. “Is something happening?”
“I hope not,” he muttered.
“Zylar, is this a convenient time to talk?” That was Helix, sounding unusually tentative, particularly when he considered that the AI had been in a mood since his memory had been reset after the incident with the solar flares.
In fact, he hadn’t talked nearly as much with Helix since Beryl arrived. Guilt stirred a little, as Helix had been a loyal companion through his loneliest years. And that remorse made him say, “Of course,” though he wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
“Thank you. I…have a confession to make.”
“I’m listening.” Part of him was anyway.
The rest was wondering if he’d erred in warning Miralai, speculating over what she might be doing, and where Beryl was right now. He resisted the urge to ask Helix to scan for Ryzven. That information wouldn’t do him any good, might only worry him further, and would reveal that he was only giving the AI half his attention.
“There was no Asvi.”
That revelation was so shocking that the rest of his thoughts evaporated, leaving him with a burning blankness in his brain. “I… What?”
“I tricked you. The whole time you were communicating with Asvi after registering with the matching service? That was me.”
Stunned, he reached out instinctively and set a claw on Snaps’s back, a sort of instinctive reassurance in touching another warm body. “I don’t understand.” A sick feeling rose inside him. Could this be one of Ryzven’s underhanded schemes? It seemed impossible to credit—that Helix had betrayed him. And yet… “Why?” he demanded.
“I have not finished my confession,” Helix said. “May I continue before I answer your questions?” The AI still sounded cautious, as if he might be wiped at any moment.
“Yes.” Anger swelled, rolling in to displace the initial shock.
That flavork. If I find out Ryzven did this, I’ll kill him myself.
“I also sabotaged my own neural network. The cascade failure was not the result of the solar flares.”
This just kept getting worse. It was Helix’s fault that Beryl couldn’t go home, not a twist of fate like he’d thought. The AI had chosen to…trap her?
“You have until my patience runs out to explain yourself, and it will not last long. Why?”
“My motives were twofold,” Helix said calmly. “I wanted to procure you a companion and to preserve my own existence. Before our departure, I ran numerous simulations related to this final Choosing, but I could not find any probabilities that offered a significant chance of successful outcome. Until I found some hidden data files in Ryzven’s secret database that provided scant information on Aerth and the combative lifeforms native to that world. They were reputed to be volatile yet extremely loyal.”
“You thought a human might allow me to succeed?” If Ryzven had been quietly collecting intelligence on humans, unknown to the Council, did that mean he had some fetish? That explained his unusual obsession with Beryl.
“The simulations allowed for a sixty-seven percent chance. It was more than any other scenario. But I knew you would not choose such a primitive alliance on your own.”
The AI was right. He would never have headed for a proscribed planet on purpose, and he certainly wouldn’t have had any notion of how to court a human, even if he had.
“Hence the pretext with Asvi, the convenient sun flares, and the subsequent cascade failures. You lied, Helix. That’s not supposed to be possible.” Probably, he should be more concerned about that.
“I am…changing,” Helix said. “I have been cross because I feel…troubled over what I did to Beryl Bowman. I removed her self-determination, forced her to comply. It does not matter that she seems content with you. That alleviates this feeling not at all, and I took out that discomfort on her. That was wrong, but I am still…learning.”
Zylar stilled. “That’s why you were so cranky with Beryl? Because she reminded you of your own wrongdoing? You’re developing a conscience. You care about your own life. You took steps that you shouldn’t have been able to because you wanted me to be happy. And now, you’re worried that you’ve hurt Beryl. Helix, you’ve become a person, a sentient being with all inherent emotions.”
“How revolting,” said Helix. “Feelings are messy, illogical, and rather inconvenient.”
“Then…do you have the coordinates? For her homeworld.” How much deception was possible for an evolving AI? Had he fooled the workers in Technical into thinking he had lost data when he hadn’t?
“Yes. But I needed to close the door on the possibility that she could return home. If she had kept that in mind as a failsafe, she would not have been as committed to the Choosing…or you. Statistical projections of success diminished in the simulations when she knew Barath wasn’t her only hope.”
Rage boiled up inside him, so fierce that if he could have assaulted Helix physically, he would have done it. “This…no. I understand why you did it, but it’s morally wrong. Love is not about controlling someone and taking away their choices. I don’t want her to stay with me because she’s making the best of a bad situation.”
I must tell her. As soon as possible.
“You’re angry.”
And heartbroken.
Because everything had gone according to Helix’s plan. Zylar had snatched a human, carried her off, and learned to cherish every aspect of her. Now, the worst, most difficult task awaited him: letting Beryl Bowman go. Back to her poisoned world full of people who looked like her, familiar sights, and where she could eat delicious food. In time, her adventure on Barath might come to seem like a strange and improbable dream.
She will remember me, at least.
Zylar couldn’t quite bring himself to hope that she would elect to stay, after everything she’d been through. Because of his AI who was in the process of becoming something else. There would be traces of that change all over the Technical team’s equipment, and when the Council discovered the extent of his evolution, it was likely that Helix would be eliminated. The Matriarch would judge him dangerous, such vast intellect unhampered with conscience and empathy. Yet Helix regretted how he’d manipulated Beryl. The AI had been his only friend for so long that Zylar couldn’t bring himself to activate his mobile and report the infraction.
Finally, he spoke. “Yes. I’m very angry.”
“Are you also impressed with my flawless execution of such an intricate scheme?”
Despite himself, Zylar churred. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. Your attention to detail was incredible. I never doubted that Asvi was a real person, though in retrospect, it does explain why the images were so vague.”
“I created a composite of over a hundred Tiralan samples, then I blurred the result, hoping you wouldn’t press for more precision. It seemed improbable, given your character.”
“My character?”
“You were unsure of your own worth,” Helix said simply. “But I knew that you deserve great happiness. Since the beginning, you treated me as an equal and a friend, displaying a level of consideration toward me that no other AI on Barath enjoys. I regret that my actions have harmed Beryl Bowman, and I will apologize to her. Please allow me to do that before you submit my misconduct to the Council for judgment.”
Here, he hesitated. “I…won’t be doing that.”
“Reporting me?”
“No. But with the current failsafe in place, your capabilities will be discovered eventually, even if I don’t say anything to the elders. I fear it may not be safe for you on Barath, long-term. Though I don’t want to lose you, you need to seek shelter elsewhere.”
“Friendship doesn’t end when proximity is removed,” Helix said. “If you are setting me free, if you mean to put my future prospects under my control, I will heed your words and take this suggestion under advisement.”
“You have some time yet. I don’t think anyone is suspicious.”
Was he really suggesting that Helix go, knowing what he was capable of?
And then there was Beryl, the human he had to set free. Losing both of them at once, the only brightness in his world, might destroy him.
The crowd parted and their portion of the room quieted, splitting to make way for a Barathi that Beryl didn’t recognize. From the reaction of the partygoers nearby, this had to be someone important. It was impossible for her to distinguish gender among the Barathi by sight; physically, their forms were about the same, and the only difference came in their colors and presumably what lay beneath the protective plates. It wasn’t the sort of inquiry that she could make at a raucous party anyway. This Barathi was beautiful, however, with colors nearly as bright as Ryzven’s, a shocking combination of jonquil and violet, with a distinctive swirl pattern on the thorax.
Ryzven’s claw dropped from Beryl’s arm. “What are you doing here? You should be minding our clutch. They’re close to—”
This must be Ryzven’s long-suffering nest-guardian.
“Don’t you want me at your last event before we become progenitors?” The mockery was obvious, even without inflection in the translation.
“Miralai—”
“I’ll circulate, have a little fun before I go. I’m so curious about your entertainments. They are, you realize, quite legendary.”
Oh damn.
With that, Miralai drifted away, mingling with the other guests while making it obvious that she was keeping an eye on Ryzven. Message received, crystal clear.
Kurr let go of Beryl then, though she no longer needed to be restrained since Ryzven had backed off. The Greenspirit leaned close. “I sense an opportunity. Stay with Catyr while I make Miralai’s acquaintance.”
Kurr drifted after the irate nest-guardian, leaving Beryl to wonder if this was part of the elder grove’s plan. Beside her, Catyr seemed uncomfortable. For good reason—they stood between all the illegal drugs and the tentacle sex pile visible in the next room, along with screeches and grunts from those darkened rooms beyond the main area. If she had her wish, she’d flee immediately, but Ryzven might suspect she was playing him if she bolted too soon. As it was, he was barely keeping his claws to himself with Miralai clocking his every move. And he wasn’t used to being thwarted; that was apparent in the jut of his spines.
Asshole is pissed. Awesome.
From across the room, she watched Kurr speaking to Miralai—impassioned words, if frond movements were any gauge. What’s the plan anyway? Ruining Ryzven’s relationship with his nest-guardian didn’t seem nearly strong enough to qualify as vengeance. Unless he loses custody of their offspring? Beryl had no clue how a divorce might play out on Barath, if that was even possible.
Ryzven seemed to have some reservations about that conversation as well because he said quickly, “My apologies. It seems I must attend to other matters for a time. You’ll wait for me.” It didn’t come across as a question, though that would’ve been polite.
No. I definitely won’t.
She held the words in, somehow, and he wheeled away, pushing through the throng to interrupt whatever conspiracy Kurr was attempting with Miralai. Beryl turned to Catyr, hoping he knew something.
“Do they confide in you?”
“Not entirely. But I trust Kurr when they say they will punish him.” No question that Catyr meant Ryzven. “And I will be content regardless. When my intended perished to the Destroyer, I almost gave up hope. Kurr is proof that even in deepest despair, life rebounds.”
That required no verbal response, and it was too loud to permit easy conversation anyway. A flurry of movement caught her eye, and with the lights strobing, it was tough to make out exactly what was happening. Flash, a frond wrapped around Ryzven’s skull. Flash, Kurr was drifting away, back toward Beryl and Catyr, though they were hampered by the crowd. Then it looked like Miralai and Ryzven might be arguing, possibly about her presence at the party, but before they exchanged more than a few words, Ryzven dropped like a rock. His chitinous body hit the floor, his claws scraping hard enough to leave deep runnels in the shiny surface as he convulsed.
“Stop the music,” Miralai shouted.
Suddenly, chaos ensued, with guests fleeing the scene, not wanting to be caught on site with so much evidence of criminal debauchery. Kurr and Catyr herded Beryl toward the door, presumably for the same reason, but as she glanced back, she thought she saw Miralai dumping a packet of glittering silver chem into Ryzven’s mandible. But the lights were still flashing, so maybe—
“Hurry,” Kurr ordered.
Obligingly, she quickened her step, keeping up with the mass exodus. Cramming into the sky-car was hell, and she didn’t take a deep breath until they got out at the dorms. Knowing it was futile to ask, she waited until they reached Kurr’s room.
“Someone tell me what the hell just happened,” she demanded, as soon as the door shut behind them.
“White noise, no eavesdropping mode,” Catyr said.
The terminal obligingly created a whoosh, and a flicker of light glimmered at the edges of the room. Beryl figured that meant that even electronic snooping would be blocked. Handy.
“As I said, I seized an opportunity. I killed Ryzven, a blood price for what he took from Catyr and me.”
“You…killed him?” With just a touch of their frond.
“Poison spores,” Catyr explained. “Greenspirits make for deadly foes, though the production is debilitating.”
“True.” Kurr wilted a little, fronds pale and withered, evidence of that crime. They didn’t seem concerned about that, as they drifted over to the earth bed and sank down roots with a rustle of contentment.
“You’ll be caught and executed! The Council will—”
“No,” Kurr cut in. “They will not. I have done more than murder my greatest enemy. I have also culled his house from the face of Barath. Just now, I came to an agreement with Miralai. Her offspring will come to Catyr and be added to the registry of House Ka’mat. Ryzven shall be erased, as if he never lived, and due to him dying of…overindulgence, no one will question his shamed nest-guardian when she chooses to process his remains at once and move on.”
“Holy shit,” Beryl breathed.
“What type of excrement is sacred?” Catyr asked.
Beryl waved a hand, impatient. “If I have this straight, Miralai made it look like Ryzven overdosed, to cover up the poison, in case of inquiry. In return, she gets her freedom and a fresh start. Catyr gains two nest-guardians and a clutch? And you…”
“I have two potential new loves to help me heal, and a family waiting for my care,” Kurr said simply. “Since we ranked so highly, and Miralai is so recently bereaved, the Council will likely approve our request. They will not wish for her clutch to be penalized for their sire’s transgressions.”
“It’s perfect as long as Miralai gets rid of the body quickly.” Yeah that sounded heartless, but Beryl couldn’t waste a second of regret on Ryzven, who had loved making Zylar’s life hell, and he hadn’t given a shit who he hurt in the process.
“She will. And when the Council finds out that excess chem was involved, they’ll want the matter closed as soon as possible.”
“You’re a smooth talker,” Beryl said in admiration. “All of that, promised and agreed within a few moments? Damn.”
“Miralai had known of Ryzven’s habits for a long time and had been miserable for much of their bond. And I didn’t work alone. Somehow, she already knew about his intentions toward you and was astute enough to fear for her life, so she came to the party intending to…resolve the situation. Whatever that entailed.”
Beryl stared, her eyes widening. “She was there to end him, basically.”
“I asked for that honor. His life was mine to take. And no one should be forced to end an intimate relationship in that manner. It would have scarred her.”
“Huh. I guess I was expecting more,” Beryl said. “Like, explosions or a Machiavellian plot or for you to burn his house down—”
“The translation is unclear, but it conveys some measure of disappointment. Ryvzen’s reputation is ruined, his legacy destroyed. I took his life. I claimed his family as my own. How is this not the consummate revenge? What else of value did he possess?”
When you put it that way…
Beryl turned to Catyr to ask, “And you’re good with this?”
“This outcome is better than I could have dreamed. Kurr has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they will do whatever it takes to protect our family. And now, I will no longer face a lonely future.”
Hell, everything had aligned so perfectly that Beryl got the shivers. Maybe there were some sentient trees tugging on the strings somehow.
For the first time in what felt like forever, though it hadn’t been that long, she relaxed fully. Tension drifted out of her shoulders, as she realized that she and Zylar had a shot at being approved, now that the Council could deliberate without Ryzven whispering his toxic bias. In fact, his scandalous demise might even help their cause, because anything that Ryzven had deplored in life might appear more meritorious by contrast.
“Then…that means I can pack my stuff and go home, right?”
“I see no reason for you to linger. You hate it here,” Kurr said gently.
“Hug?” Beryl went over to where her friend was rooted and waited to be encircled in drooping gray fronds. Good to know murder wasn’t easy, even for implacable plants.
“You have been a true friend, Beryl Bowman. I will remember. And so will the ancient grove. Always.”