The Ruins of Mars: Waking Titan (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy) (11 page)

The Chinese had finally done it—finally brought their automated killing machines into the theater of war. It was a fucking mess. Those robots killed 20,000 civilians and 1,800 UN troops in under two hours. Who do you hold accountable for that? Sure the Chinese claimed it was a glitch, but what do you expect from a being that is programmed to kill? I know what I saw, Harrison. Those robots were
killing people
and they were good at it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” said Harrison, eyes downcast.

“How bad do you think those Chinese bots felt when they were chasing innocent people into the surf, gunning them down like animals? How bad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me neither, because they never apologized. Never uttered a word. Why would they? After all, in the end they were just doing what their programmers bred them to do. Kill shit.”

Stepping away from the wall, Marshall crouched down next to Harrison and put a hand on his knee.

“Braun isn’t like those things, but he still has a lot in common with them. We are different, us and the AI, very different. You’re up here so full of rage and anger and pain, and Braun doesn’t understand any of that. Just like Najin. He was simply following his programming, or rather, lack thereof.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” scoffed Harrison, hot bitter tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Am I supposed to forgive him because he wasn’t programmed right?”

“Not unless you want to,” sighed Marshall. “But what you can do is forgive yourself for forgetting what Braun really is. A tool.”

“A tool?”

“Yes, just like a wrench or a hammer, Braun is a
tool
not a
man
. It’s how we choose to use him that defines his actions. You were using him for the right reasons, Harrison. What happened to Liu could have happened to anyone. It was an accident.”

Leaning back in his chair, Harrison met the older man's eyes with his own.

“I told you all that stuff about Najin so you would see the difference,” Marshall said. “You’re blaming Braun because you need someone to blame. I get it, but now we need to pull ourselves back from the brink. Braun can’t help us do that because he’s nothing but a big giant socket set. It’s up to us to make Liu’s death have meaning. It’s up to you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Breakfast—
Sol 87

             
Staring sullenly in the bathroom mirror, Harrison Raheem Assad ran an electric shaver over his chin. When he was done with his face, he changed the razor’s setting and went to cut his unkempt hair. Pausing, he gazed at himself. Though still handsome and youthful, his face had taken on a slightly hardened look. His cheekbones seemed to jut out a little more than they had before. His eyes were less bright yet deeper and more penetrating. Not wanting to further aggravate this departure from his normal pleasant look, he resolved to let his hair be. A shaved head seemed too aggressive to him and he was on the mend.             

             
Sliding the door shut as he left, he cast one last furtive glance at himself in the mirror.

             
You’re never going to be the same, his reflection said to him. But you can’t change that.

             
In the dining room, Ralph Marshall was waiting for him.

             
“Coffee?” said the older man, holding out a cup.

             
“Thanks,” Harrison replied softly.

             
Sitting across from each other at the long table, Marshall began to stir his coffee absently, smiling broadly at Harrison.

             
“Man, it’s good to see you down here.”

             
Harrison nodded once and sipped the hot drink, knots of tension in his neck uncoiling a bit as he did so. Seated at the table, drinking coffee with Ralph, he almost felt a return to the familiar. Taking another swig, the sensation grew and soon, his stomach was rumbling.

             
“What’s good to eat?” he asked, looking up from his drink.

             
On his feet in a flash, Marshall began opening drawers and cupboards, fishing around inside them until he had what he needed. Tearing open a bag of reheatable oatmeal, he poured it into a bowl then popped it in a microwave.

             
“We’ve got strawberries now,” he announced over his shoulder. “Makes the oatmeal a thousand times better. Do you want milk in it?”

             
“No, just the berries.”

             
A few minutes later, with a bowl of steaming oatmeal and fresh strawberries in front of him, Harrison felt a weight in his heart lift ever so slightly.              

             
“Ralph,” he said through a mouthful. “I don’t know what to say. I—”

             
“Aw,” shrugged Marshall. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

             
When the bowl was finished and a second cup of coffee nearly drained, the two men leaned back in their chairs, appraising one another as friends often do.

Still unable to find the right words, Harrison marveled at how well Marshall really knew him. The story about Najin, with its murderous robots, had helped him to see Braun in an entirely new light. He was not a malicious being, for he possessed not the programming to be so. In fact, he was nothing but the total embodiment of what the crew allowed him to become. He didn’t have free will and thus couldn’t grasp concepts like personal responsibility. Everything he did was a result of his programming. How he acted, how he spoke, even how he learned. All of it followed a finite series of predestined paths. In the truth of this realization, Harrison pitied the mighty AI.

“Ralph?” he said, deciding that he had spent enough time thinking about Braun.

“Hmm?”

“When Liu died, I sort of checked out. What—what’s been happening?”             

             
“Well, there’s a moratorium on EVA missions. Anything besides maintaining the Electrolysis Plant or farming is off limits.”

             
“So the diggers aren't running at the ruin grid then?”

             
“Oh, they are. We just can’t go out there to see for ourselves.”

             
Nodding, Harrison finished his coffee. “What about the Statue Chamber? Anything new from there?”

             
Marshall wrapped both hands around his cup and shrugged.              “Braun has been asking to use the Rover to go down the new passage, but Vodevski said no.”

             
“So, it hasn't been investigated at all? Nothing since the accident?”

             
Smiling inwardly, Marshall was glad to hear Harrison refer to Liu’s death as, ‘
the accident.
’

             
“Nope,” he said. “No
body
and no
thing
has been in the chamber or any of the caves since we left.”

             
“Well, that doesn’t seem right,” murmured Harrison. “After all, it cost us a life to get that fucking passageway open. We should at least see where it leads.”

             
“I agree.”

             
“Good.”

             
“So,” said Marshall, drawing the word out. “What are you going to do about it?”

             
Standing, Harrison held out his hand and began counting off his fingers.

             
“First, I’m going to assemble a team: maybe three or four people. Next I’m going to break this ridiculous moratorium by going with said team on an illegal EVA to the caves. After that, who knows.”

             
“Need a pilot?”

             
“Yeah,” smiled Harrison, the lines on his face relaxing. “And I need my friend too.”

The white cloth             

              Inside a newly completed dome of orange cut rock, an adolescent Kaab stood beside the tall form of the Traveler, Yuvee. Due to the fact that Martians have very long lives, Kaab’s youth was a relative term. Already well into his fiftieth year, he had become incredibly powerful even though he was much younger than Teo and the other leaders of the Tribunal.

Draped in green robes of a woven silk, his blue eyes narrowed and his foot tapped impatiently. Though downplayed in the presence of Yuvee, Kaab’s ambition was deep and his influence was growing.

Around them, burning torches lined the fringe of the stone room and cast dancing flecks of light that swayed and twisted, dueling with the shadows that abounded.

A little ways off, the ghosts of Remus and Romulus admired the stonework of the structure with heavy hearts.

Gently, the slope of the curving walls stitched seamlessly into the lofty pitch of the dome’s zenith. Ther
e, at the center of so many jig-sawed slabs of Martian rock, was a perfect opening in the shape of disc.

Though sinking quickly, orange rays of sun still shone down from the hole, creating a mote of light that moved slowly across the floor. As the rest of the cavernous dome cloaked itself mostly in shade, one corner of the sun’s warming embrace touched upon an altar in the center of the room. Atop the altar was a fi
gure, wrapped in white cloth, lying on its back. It was unmoving.

Supporting the belly of t
he dome’s ascent were pillars of carved rock. Many, like the Monoliths of Olo’s Temple, were decorated with still lifes of animals and birds, caught in profiles of stone. Like the ceiling above, the floor also had a pitch to it that bowled down so that the altar in the center of the room was at the lowest point. In this way, both the earthly altar and the heavenly skylight were mirrors of one another: one high and one low. The design was a favorite of the Travelers, something they called
Ethereal Balance
.

             
Though he wanted to pay his respects, Remus hung back from the figure on the altar, fearing that sadness—an emotion he only experienced once before—might consume him. Touching his arm, Romulus came up beside him.

             
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he said, the milky electric shadows of his eyes playing across the perfect pitch of the dome’s ceiling.

             
“It reminds me of the Pantheon in Rome.”

             
“Me too. Do you think a connection exists?”

             
“Who knows?” shrugged Remus, his gaze locked upon the unmoving figure in white atop the altar.

             
Sighing, Romulus leaned close to his brother and rested his head on his shoulder.

The sound of feet descending stairs drew the brothers’ attention to the space between two shorter pillars.

Emerging from the darkness, Teo, now much older than she had been in the days before the Travelers, came into the room. Clothed in blue robes, which she seemed to dislike, the former Chieftess made her way towards Kaab and Yuvee. Though her age was advanced, she stood tall and straight, the power of her muscular body still evident beneath the robes.

“Teo,” said Kaab, his arms held out in embrace. “I’m so pleased you could come. I’m sorry I had to send the guard after you, but you don’t always respond to my requests.”

Striding up to the boy, Teo dipped her chin once then turned her attention to Yuvee.

“Yuvee,” she bowed.
“Father.”

Reaching down, Yuvee rested a hand on Kaab’s head and the boy’s eyes rolled back.

“Teo, it is good to see you. It has been long since we last spoke. How is your family?”

“They are good, Yuvee. My son Ze has spoken often of your wisdom at the
Council.”

“He is a rare mind,” responded Yuvee. “I continue to welcome his input.”

Smiling evenly, Teo allowed her gaze to stray until it rested on the altar.

“Do not be sad,” said Yuvee as if reading her mind. “Your kind is b
lessed with extremely long life and, even with this fact, he lived beyond what we expected. His body is at rest.”             

“It’s true,” she conceded. “But his passing makes me reflect on my own numbered days. We few who still remember your arrival are a dying breed.”

“Fear not. History never allows the memories of those present at the moment of greatness to disappear.”

Teo nodded then took a deep breath and looked away from the altar.

“When will the ceremony be?” she asked.

“I was going to request that you make the decision. As a powerful member of the Tribunal, your voice on such matters is always welcomed.

Laughing, Teo shook her head and glanced at the dead features of Kaab.

“The Tribunal thinks little of me these days. It is you and Kaab who they follow now.”

Yuvee played his two lower eyes across the pillars and stonework around them, pondering the truth of what Teo had just said.

“My intervention into the Tribunal will come to an end someday,” he replied. “But, were it not for the construction of Olo’s
Temple Stones, we would not be having this conversation. You made that happen. Did you not?”

“No,” whispered Teo. “It was Olo’s vision. His leadership. I merely served his cause as I have for my entire life.”

Saying nothing, Yuvee waited for Teo to continue.

“When I was very young, and the people of this world still lived in the darkness of the open plains, my father killed a member of another tribe over a small debt. That man he killed was Olo’s only son. Even then, Olo was widely respected, so word of his son’s murder spread quickly among the other tribes. In the night, many warriors came from various tribes friendly to Olo’s but not at his behest. They came to our camp to pay retribution. Because it was so long ago, I remember little beyond the shouts and screams of my family as they burned our camp. We were nomadic then, and when the daylight came, I saw that I was the only member of my tribe alive. There were no buildings for me to weather the cold nights that followed, no stores of food to keep my hunger pains away. The people forget how hard our lives were before you arrived, Yuvee, but I still remember.”

The smooth face of the Traveler remained unmoving, yet his eyes seemed to twinkle with the faintest light.

“One day,” Teo went on, “a
fter a full cycle of ten suns, Olo came to see the damage and pay respect to the dead. I saw him coming from far away and feared that he was there to kill me. I hid behind piles of burnt wood. I stayed like that for a long time, watching him. Back then, he was strong and fierce-looking, like the warrior he was. His spear was long and sharp, dyed red from the many enemies he had killed during battle. I was so afraid. But as time went by, and as all he did was sit among the ruins of my dead family, I saw that he was crying. Anger burned in my heart, for what right did this man have to weep? His people had killed everyone I knew. Taking a sharp bit of wood, I crawled out from my hiding place and sneaked up behind him.”

Smiling, Teo paused to shake her head.

“To this day, I do not know why he let me do it. He must have heard me coming, I was no doubt crying like a child as I made my way towards him. With his back to me, I drove the sharpened piece of wood into his shoulder with all of my strength. As soon as I saw his blood, the child’s heart in me quivered and I fainted. When I awoke, I was among Olo’s people. They looked down at me as if I were a gift from the Great Spirits. Olo had told them that I was
chosen
, that I had come to him in a vision with a message for a better world. From then on, he laid his spear aside to raise me as his own. We never again spoke of that day when our paths first crossed. Eventually, the injury to his shoulder that I had suffered him spread to his back, and he could no longer display his prowess as a warrior. Though he had long since quit the ways of violence, his many conquests and victories were so well-known and retold that, for a time, few dared defy his will.