“This is unreal,” Sasha said as he walked around the clockwork man. “An actual live clockwork man.”

“Is that to be my name sir?” the machine asked. “Clockwork Man?”

“No. Of course not,” Sasha replied. “Are you telling me you don’t know your name?”

The clockwork man tilted its head as if it were thinking hard. “It seems I do not,” it replied.

“Hmmm,” Sasha wondered aloud, “Well, the machine called you, Stephan Fischer.”

“I am Stephan Fischer. Very well,” the clockwork man said. “And may I ask, what is your name?”

“My name is Sasha,” he replied. Sasha extended his hand. He wasn’t sure if the clockwork man “Stephan” even knew how to shake hands, or anything short of his own name, but the clockwork man returned the shake with a strong one of his own. A bit too strong.

“Ow!” Sasha exclaimed. “You’re going to need to learn your own strength.” Stephan withdrew and Sasha rubbed his tingling hand.

“My apologies, sir. I shall remember that in the future,” Stephan replied, clanging his metal arm against his own chest in what looked like a salute.

“It’s fine,” Sasha said. “And don’t call me sir. Sasha will do just fine.”

“Of course… Sasha,” Stephan said. There was discomfort in his voice.

“So, my metal friend, tell me,” Sasha said. “Do you know anything about your life before this place?”

Stephan tilted his head again in thought. His glowing blue eye lenses darted around as if he were searching his memory. Finally, he slumped and said, “No. I don’t think I do. There are… emotions that I feel. Frustration, determination, fear but, I don’t know why or where from. Before I awoke here. I don’t remember anything.”

Sasha smiled. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied. “Well, with the exception of the past few months.” The clockwork man was silent, but he nodded for Sasha to continue.

“I awoke in a hospital bed a few months back. The city around me was burning and the hospital was beginning to go up in flames. I barely escaped with my life. It was the same for me though. I remembered emotions, most of them negative. But as far as actual memories go, nothing.

Stephan nodded, or rather, he rocked back and forth on his mobility ball. “Then perhaps you too are a clockwork man such as myself.”

Sasha laughed, “No, I don’t think so. I’m human through and through.” He walked to the console that he had interacted with earlier. “Now, let’s see if this thing can tell me anything else about you.” He placed his hand on the indicated spot and again the world faded.

***

Jim dove behind a sofa to his right as shots rang out from the staircase across the dark room. The first bullet buzzed by his ear, but the second found him, striking him in the armpit and ravaging his flesh before bursting out above his shoulder blade. Jim landed with a thud and a curse. Rolling quickly onto his back, he pulled up his robe and withdrew a single shot pistol.

The pistol was a relic of hundreds of years, but Jim knew that a bullet was a bullet. Looking through the gap under the couch, he spotted a pair of feet as the assailant landed on the floor. Jim took aim and fired. The leg of the person disappeared behind a spray of blood just above the ankle. A man’s voice roared in pain.

Jim didn’t risk the time to appreciate his victory. Dropping his pistol, he reached for the “Crimson Blade” that he’d lifted earlier that night from the museum. It had been safely tucked away in his belt, well hidden by his flowing robe.

Leaping to his feet, or more worming to his feet due to his non-functioning left arm, Jim charged forward with the crimson blade in hand. He couldn’t see well in the dim light of the oil lamp, but he saw enough to make out the shape of the man. Jim was on him in an instant.

He brought his weapon down, but the man was prepared. There was a loud crash of metal as the man parried Jim’s blow. The edge of Jim’s scimitar did superficial damage as it scraped the enemy’s hand.

The man howled again. Using his good leg, he swept behind Jim’s knee. It wasn’t enough to knock Jim to the ground, but it did cause him to stumble forward. As he did, a burning pain shot up Jim’s right calf. As Jim struggled to regain his balance, he saw a puddle of blood growing underneath his foot. The guard had struck deep with his own scimitar.

More shots rang out from the stairs. This time though, they didn’t seemed directed at himself. He heard the loud plugging sound of bullets in wood at the far end of the room. “Kalandra!” he shouted, “get d-”

There was a roar of fire. The room suddenly turned orange with firelight as a ball of plasma sailed across it and struck the second attacker right in the face. He didn’t have time to scream as his face was almost instantly ashen. The edges of the flame struck the wooden staircase and erupted.

There was still the man on the ground to deal with. Jim turned, crimson blade in hand, ready to rush, but the man was already dead. His skin was white and his mouth was choked with foam.

“I think that scimitar you lifted was laced with poison.”

Kalandra emerged from a hiding spot she had made behind a bookshelf. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were sunken in exhaustion from the awakened effort. Jim glanced at the oil lamp and realized where she had found the fire. The lamp was again burning with its tepid flame, but now, the growing fire at the staircase was casting shadows across the room.

“Quick,” Jim shouted as he limped over to Kalandra and put her arm around his shoulders. “We need to get upstairs and get the ambassadors before that fire gets out of control.”

“No need,” a woman’s voice called out from atop the stairs. Jim turned to see two women quickly decending. Both had to jump the last few steps as the fire had already begun to spread.

The first woman was tall, as tall as Kalandra’s father. She was so thin, she looked almost sickly. Her hair was grey and tied up in a tight knot by a pair of metal pins at the back of her head. The second woman looked a great deal younger. Her black hair fell to her chin and circled her head in a perfect straight line. She too was slender, but she appeared healthier than the older woman.

“I suppose you’re here to rescue us,” the older woman said with a hint of condescension. She crossed her bony arms as she sized Jim and Kalandra up.

“I see good manners is a trait shared between all Protectorate citizens,” Jim said. Before the woman could respond, he turned and pointed at the younger one. “You. I need you to help me remove this man from the house.” He looked down at Kalandra’s father who was laying where he’d fallen moments earlier. “And you,” he pointed at the older woman, “Help my friend here. She nearly killed herself saving my life, and yours.”

The older woman began to protest but then thought better of it. She crossed the room with energy that her emaciated frame shouldn’t have been capable of, and grabbed Kalandra around the waist. “Let’s go,” she snapped as she hurried out the front door.

Jim dragged Kalandra’s father across the yard and laid the man’s head on a bag of unopened mulch near the gate. “We can’t leave him… here,” Kalandra gasped, still drained from her awakened attack. Her arm was still around the tall woman’s shoulders. The woman was so much taller than her, she looked more like she was hanging from the Protectorate woman’s neck than being supported by her.

Jim shook his head. “Actually, that’s exactly what we should do.” Kalandra’s face turned into a scowl, but Jim waved her protest away. “When the guards get here, they’ll find a member of the propaganda press unconscious and some of their guards dead. They’ll assume your dad tried to fight off intruders. He’ll be a hero. With us… well, life would be much harder for him.”

Kalandra’s scowls slowly turned into a frown, then her eyes reddened and filled with tears as she worked through her head until she reached the same conclusion.

There was a shout from somewhere down the street. The fire had grown enough that the house was beginning to billow smoke. “Time to go!” Jim shouted. And again, they were running for their lives.

***

“Ok, machine person, show me all data on Stephan Fischer.”

That name is not on file.

“What the hell do you mean, not on file? You just… put him into an ether cube.”

Please re-state request.

“Oh for the love of… ok. Let’s try this one more time. When was the last time a prisoner was uhhh integrated into an ether cube?”

Six minutes and twenty three seconds have transpired since the last implantation.

“Please show me all information about the last personality implanted.”

That information is no longer available.

“What? Why?”

Upon completion of personality implantation, all prisoner records are expunged. Time has been served and judgement can not be retained beyond the criminal’s served time.

Though Sasha’s mind was integrated with the machine, he sighed inwardly, or at least felt like he did. Before he could say anything though, there was an odd ringing that began to fill the dark space of his mind link. It took him only a moment to realize it was an alarm.

Warning. Proximity alert. Compromised ma’al warriors within detection area.

“Wait, what does-”

Power insufficient for defensive measures. Power at 4%. Suggest re-integration and relocation of prisoners to alternate facility. Please select parameters.

The warning alarms continued to blare in Sasha’s ears, or his head. He wasn’t sure if he could distinguish either.

Please select parameters for re-integration.

“Ok. Umm, how many prisoners are only prisoners of war?”

Prisoners charged as prisoners of war equal 394.

“Wow, 394 clockwork men,” Sasha exclaimed. “A small fortune for the right buyer.”

Please re-state request.

“Re-integrate all three hundred and ninety four prisoners.”

Power insufficient.

“What the shit. Gods I hate this thing.”

Please re-state request.

“Based on remaining power, how many prisoners can be re-integrated?”

Based on remaining power reserves, 53 prisoners can be re-integrated.

“Well, do it. Re-integrate them.”

Reintegration process beginning.

Suddenly, Sasha was back in the facility. The connection to his mind had been severed and the machinery that had constructed Stephan was whirring and whining as it worked. Five minutes later, fifty three clockwork men and Stephan were standing before Sasha.

Then, the facility went dark.

***

The footsteps of Jim, the ambassadors, and Kalandra echoed off the bare stone walls of the hidden passageway. Each of them was breathing heavily as they rushed through the secret space toward the exit, still out of sight. All that lit their way was a hastily lit oilrag torch in Jim’s hand. His leg had already healed thanks to his power, but his shoulder still ached. The wound was healing around the bullet, and someone would have to go in and extract it later. He didn’t relish the thought.

Jim motioned for the group to stop. “Just a… minute. Let’s… catch our breath,” he said, between deep gasps. Next to him, the younger of the Protectorate ambassadors keeled over and vomited. Everyone else sagged against the cool stone as they recovered.

Kalandra was worse off. Her body had already been robbed of its energy from her awakened attack and her face was pale. Sweat matted her hair to her head and her eyes sagged with weariness. “The end of the tunnel isn’t far. About half a mile from here, I think,” she said, slurring her words.

“Your sure?” Jim asked.

“Yeah. I used to-” she stopped and her attentioned drifted.

“Stay with us,” Jim said. He withdrew a canteen of water from his belt and offered a sip to her.

After a few more labored breaths, she continued, “I used to play in these tunnels as a child. The guards never lock the inner wall entrances. I guess they assumed people would only want to break in. Not out.”

“And what of the outer lock?” the old ambassador asked. Despite her hard demeanor, she had held Kalandra upright throughout their escape. She treated the girl with an unusual gentleness. Carefully, she set Kalandra down against the wall and withdrew to the other side to catch her breath.

The color had begun to return to Kalandra’s face as she said, “There’s a padlock and chain holding the door shut. The tunnel mouth is right at the base where the inner and outer walls meet.”

“Not a very intelligent design choice,” Jim said. “Design a city with walls so thick you can walk on them but leave a padlocked door at one side? I hope they fired the guy who thought up that gem.”

“It’s at the most heavily garrisoned part of the wall,” Kalandra said. “And my old tutor could give you a whole history of emperor Shaz in the early Alliance days and his love of secret passages. We have him to thank for this one.”

There were voices and shouts from somewhere far away. Jim wasn’t sure if they were coming from down the tunnel or if it was just sound spilling in from the outside, but he wasn’t about to wait and find out. “We have to keep moving,” he said as he clipped the canteen back onto his belt. “There’s only a few hours of darkness left and the Beacon is a long walk across the sand.

***

“You were right you know,” Kalandra said.

Jim, who had been dozing off in one of the unoccupied chairs of the Beacon’s command deck turned. “What’s that?” he asked.

Kalandra sat on a rotating chair in front of another station. Its screens and pre-fall technology had long since stopped working and now it was little more than a place to sit. She sat with feet up on the chair and her arms around her legs. The air aboard the ship was much colder than either of them were used to. Henry had insisted it was artificially cooled, but the thought of such technology was beyond Jim’s grasp.

“It would have been a mistake to visit my father. He’s become a slave to his own propaganda,” Kalandra said as she pulled her legs in tighter.

Jim shrugged, “well, it seems we made a visit anyways. I’m sorry for knocking him out like that. I just didn’t want him to -”

“Blame me. I know,” Kalandra interrupted.

Jim squinted for a moment. Finally his face lit up in understanding. “Oh uhhh right. Exactly.”

Kalandra straightened out and leaned forward. A shiver went up her body as her bare legs touched the cold metal chair. “Jim…”

Jim wrung his hands together nervously. Finally, he spoke. “I kinda wish I had done that. I mean, he probably thinks I kidnapped you and brainwashed you somehow. At least his anger is on me and not you.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why you hit him, or so it seems. Well, go ahead, spill it,” Kalandra said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Truth is, I just didn’t want him to alert the guards,” Jim said, with a shrug.

“Unbelievable,” Kalandra said, shaking her head. “And some good that did. The guards were alerted anyways.”

“Yeah.”

“So basically, you cracked my father upside the head for no real reason. Not to save my relationship with him, not to make him assume you were the bad guy,” Kalandra said. A grin was creeping up her face, but Jim didn’t see it.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“You know,” she said, giggling, “You have the emotional depth of a puddle.”

Hearing her laugh, Jim relaxed. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first person to think so.”