At The Sphinx's Request

The Alpine outpost didn’t have a name. It was just the Alpine outpost, nothing more. Towering octagonal walls, quarried from the mountains themselves, loomed high between two bleached peaks. As with most See outposts, the rampart edges were garnished with electro-thornwire, and the ever-present hum of the kinetic shields resonated in metal bones. Snowfall on the invisible shield caused little white flashes atop the dome, making the whole thing shimmer like a snow globe.

Buddy had never been here before, but he had heard stories of the marshal quality and unbreakable spirit of the Alpine inhabitants and the garrisoned soldiery. They venerated Saint Titus the Armless, who, as the legend went, had forgone cybernetic replacement of his arms and instead fought against the many mutants and monstrosities encroaching from the Europan wastes with his legs and feet. A militant preacher, and hero.

Buddy zoomed his vision on the tall gates. They were open just enough to let a single person through, and, as he’d suspected, the guards had seen them coming and were ready to either bar their entry or let them in. These guards, unlike the flagrant peacocks of Roma Prima, wore simple cream tabards over their armor. Their energized lucernes were tarnished and worn, and they looked all iron and steel.

Buddy halted the equines at the gates and tipped the brim of his large hat in greeting. “Howdy fellas. We’re looking for entry. On a mission from the See.”

“Identification or proof of claim,” the guard that had come to him said through a replacement mouth that was just a circular grille.

“Weren’t you told of our coming? We’ve come from Roma Prima.”

“Identification or proof of claim,” the guard growled in his machinic voice.

Buddy pulled out the gold coin from Father Bob’s church, brandishing it like a sheriff’s badge. Third time’s the charm, he thought.

“That is a coin, sir.”

Buddy winced, then smiled his noble-metal smile as innocently as he could. “And ain’t it pretty? Say, you can have it if you let us through. We sent word that we were coming, so just let us in and we’ll sort out the bureaucratic nonsense later.”

The guard flicked his wrist and grabbed the haft of his lucerne with his other hand. “Are you trying to bribe me, wrangler?”

“Now, hold on sir. The name’s Buddy Limbo, relic and bounty hunter extraordinaire, let’s not sling slurs before we’ve even had the chance of getting acquainted.”

“Identification or proof of claim,” the soldier repeated, a note finality in his voice.

Buddy raised his hands in mock surrender, then pulled out a strand of his cabling hair and offered it. The guard took it and stared at empty space for a moment.

“Thank you sir. I see you have max priority. Please hold as the gates open.”

Buddy watched the large double-door gates groan outward at a glacial pace, then, turning back to the guard he asked, “you seem tense. Everything alright here?”

The guard rolled his eyes, which Buddy noted looked like blank glass marbles. “We have a delegation of Atlanteans visiting.”

“So? They’re nice folk.”

“We also have a flock of purists…”

“Oh. Oh no.”

“I’ve never been so glad to stand outside in the cold for a day.”

Buddy squeezed the bridge of his nose. Purists and Atlanteans. People that abhorred all augmentation be it biological or synthetic, trapped in an enclosed mountain fortress with the very ones that brought survival to the human race in the form of their technological marvels. Buddy could only hope that the Atlanteans here were the reserved kind.

His hopes were dashed when he guided the wagon through the gap between the gates and into the inner courtyard. By the granite stairs leading up to the governor’s building were the Atlanteans. Three meter porcelain and gold machine men and women stood in calm repose by what evidently was their leader, a massive sphinx.

The creature’s face was enormous. Hyper realistic synth-skin, pale over a skull that was all sharp angles and strong bones. Atlantean perfection. Hooded eyelids draped over gleaming white orbs with ruby irises, and a metallic nemes, of beaten bronze and a blue metal Buddy didn’t recognize, adorned its massive head like the hood of some giant cyber-cobra. Like its face, its gigantic leonine body looked all too organic with its ashy pelt. Buddy suspected however, correctly, that it was only a facade, and within was a complex and sophisticated machine similar to the four equines pulling the wagon.

The Atlanteans noticed the equines and regarded them with familiarity, and the enormous beast stood up from its stately rest. With its head raised it towered over the already tall Atlanteans, and thus emanated a venerable and mystical presence, as though the ancient structure now lost to history near the Nile had come to life.

Buddy rose from the coachman’s seat once the equines were at rest, nodding at the delegation in greeting.

Please, God, don’t come over, he thought.

They came over.

The humanoid Atlanteans in their aquamarine robes bustled about the equines while the sphinx came directly to the wagon’s side, its head easily clearing the dented and scraped roof. It cast a long shadow over the coachman’s seat.

“Greetings,” it said in a soft voice.

“Howdy.”

“An interesting choice.”

“U-huh.” Buddy tried to look busy. Maybe the sphinx would get the gist and return to whatever it had been doing.

The rest of the party exited the vehicle and each in turn gazed wide-eyed in awe, or in Jaques’ case wary nervousness, at the Atlanteans, especially the sphinx.

“It is impolite to ignore someone when they wish to speak,” the sphinx said.

Buddy stopped and turned. “Ain’t it also impolite to intrude if someone doesn’t wish to?”

“Verily. But that thing on your hip, it drew my attention. Also, those arms of yours, especially the left one with the blade, they are Atlantean make.”

“Ain’t most enhancements?”

“Not since others started to develop them.”

Buddy sighed. “Look uh… sir?”

“Laocoön.”

“Alright, Laocoön, the names Beaufort Limbo, call me Buddy. I ain’t looking to be disrespectful but we’ve had a hell of a time, and we just want to fix this here wagon and be on our way.” He indicated the sorry state of their means of transportation with a wave. From the corner of his eye he saw Lucia and Rousseau head to the governor’s building while Jean and Jaques, the former with his head down, hurried deeper into town.

“Way to where?”

Buddy grinned apologetically, “can’t say. Confidential See business, you see.”

“Ah, I understand. But still, I should like to know what that weapon is.”

“Just a regular energy weapon,” Buddy lied. Gamma-XIII vibrated angrily at this.

The sphinx Laocoön’s ruby eyes flicked from the weapon to Buddy. It was then that Buddy noticed that the irises weren’t just red, but rather two different shades in a wave-like pattern that emanated from the center. They almost looked like concentric circles.

“I see,” it said, then, “I take it you’ve heard of the other guests?”

Buddy sighed again. “I did. And not to be disrespectful, but I’d rather not be around if they happen to come around when you’re here.”

“Ah, but you see, around is exactly where I should ask you to be as a favor.”

Hound hopped up onto the driver’s platform then, and the sphinx looked as if he started, though imperceptibly, at the dog’s appearance.

“Greetings, I am Hound.”

“Laocoön,” the sphinx nodded. Buddy thought he could make out a note of tension in its voice.

“Now why would you want that?” Buddy asked.

The giant face of the sphinx took on a sad aspect. “Neither the guards nor the governor’s attendants wish to act as diplomats. We came to install upgrades into the shield generators and oversee maintenance of the Atlantean instruments here. We only wish to have our work done and then return home, but the Purists keep harassing us. Presently their all at the church, but I expect them to return soon.”

“We don’t do favors, right Hound?”

Hound was staring up at the sphinx’s eyes with a cocked head, evidently not paying attention.

“Hm. Then, may I offer you something in payment for your services. I doubt our stay will take longer than your repairs,” Laocoön said, making a show of looking at the near-wrecked wagon.

Buddy raised an eyebrow and grinned. “What’re you offering?”

“A fair sum. In addition, I will not mention to the Purists that you are traveling with a Grower,” Laocoön said with a smile.

Buddy clicked his tongue. “You noticed?”

The sphinx nodded. “My coterie is more temperate when it comes to Growers. But that gaggle of skin is of the fundamental sort.”

Buddy rubbed his copper jaw. “You drive a hard bargain. Didn’t expect an Atlantean to play it dirty.”

The sphinx chuckled. “All these centuries and some still don’t recognize that we’re as human as you.”

“You realize what that sounds like coming from… well someone of your stature.”

Laocoön laughed. “Verily I understand. It has been so long since I had a humanoid body that I’ve forgotten the effect my appearance has.”

Buddy smiled. “Deal’s good but throw in one of your guys to help repair the wagon and maybe optimize the buggy and we’re set. Me and Hound will keep the purists out of your hair.”

Laocoön offered up one of its massive paws. Buddy proffered his seven fingered hand and the two shook on it.

After a few closing pleasantries Laocoön issued one of his attendants to ride the wagon to the military hangar located in the northeastern sector for repairs. With curt goodbyes Laocoön returned to his rest by the foot of the stairs while his delegation of five, now four, split into pairs and went about their work.

Buddy tried sending a ping to the others about the situation but got an error message in reply. “Damn shields,” he spat.

“There’s something weird about that sphinx,” Hound said when the two were far enough away.

“Yeah. Kept looking at her,” Buddy said, tapping Gamma-XIII.

“Did you see the way he looked at me?”

“Yup.”

“Suppose he knows something?”

“Maybe. But first let’s go see those Purists.”

- - -

“Oh, God… did you see that thing? And they say we go too far, but look at that!” Jean hissed as he spied the sphinx through a bubbly and warped window-pane.

Jaques had just returned from the counter with some organic rations and some dark liquid the barkeep had called lube-oil, (with a wink).

The stoneware clattered on the synth-wood table. “I take it the Atlanteans we saw in Roma Prima were on the conservative side, then,” Jaques mused, trying his best not to show that he was on the verge of a breakdown.

The thing’s eyes had been concentric circles, just like the shape the cards had made. Only for a moment had the towering beast looked at Jaques, but in that moment he’d felt his replacements seize and his lubricant and blood freeze. Presently his fingers were twitching, and he did his best to hide them under the table.

While Jean went on about something or other, the copper box with its scrying cards weighed heavy in the fold of Jaques’ tunic, almost demanding to be used. He had a horrible foreboding that something was going to happen.

“Are you listening?” Jean asked and poked Jaques from across the table.

“Hm? Oh, forgive me,” Jaques said and sipped the dark liquid. It was bitter and tangy. A beautiful blend of lubricants and amino-slimes. There was also a note of alcohol and caffeine. A curious mixture.

Jean grabbed the plate and shoveled the organic food into his gullet. “Mmm, this is good. Lots of sugar.”

“Are you good on rations?” Jaques asked after downing his drink.

“No. Lost most of them when Mr. Limbo cut our suite off the wagon. Are you good on clothes?”

Jaques looked at his blue tunic and his bare machine legs under the table. “I guess I need a robe.”

“And a hat.”

“Why?”

Jean shrugged.

“Jean,” Jaques began, then looked around to see if anyone was listening. The tavern was near identical to the one at Decimum Iuxta Mari, but here everything was worn and gray, from floor tiling to synth-wood furniture and the ceiling itself. The lighting was cold and the scant people here minded their own business, either idly sitting and charging or downing amino-compounds while the barkeep busied himself with something behind the counter. The ever-present smell of rust and dust mingled with the unique sent of reproduction wood. Jean in his ornate green robe and Jaques in his blue tunic stood out as specs of oil on white cloth. “I know this will sound insane—”

“Are you going to say you have a feeling something bad is going to happen?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. Have you seen, you know, seen, something like that time in the bunker?”

“No… no nothing like that. But the feeling is similar.”

Jean sighed and buried half of his face in his adult palm. Then he raked his auburn locks that were starting to get a little too long and asked, “the sphinx?”

“I’m not sure, but he’s connected somehow.”

“Then let’s steer clear of him.”

“You’re rather accepting about all this,” said Jaques.

“You’re not the lying type my friend, and weird shit keeps happening around us so, you know, easier to believe than be a skeptic.”

Jaques rubbed the glossy and spotted skin of his scalp. His shoulders felt heavy. Nothing had happened, so why was he so worried? So what if the sphinx’s eyes looked like the shape the cards had made? Besides, they were just cards. Just cards.

But what about that dream? He heard his thoughts echo back. I saw that girl, the one with the assassin. I recognized her when that monster attacked us.

Jean continued eating and looking out the window, snapping off comments Jaques didn’t register.

And Mr. Limbo’s gun. She said I had sight… but I still don’t ‘comprehend’, he thought, echoing the Chronologists portent. What is happening to me?

- - -

Outside the Alpine outpost a dog trotted along the gray-white road. It’s footprints left a parallel track between those the wheels of the wagon had left. It spied the guard at the gates, and the small man-sized crack between the massive gates.

Should it run past, or ask nicely if it could enter?

It decided on the latter.

The guard who had let Buddy and the rest inside snapped to a wary attention when his glass eyes locked on the approaching creature. The dog knew quite well what effect its appearance had on humans. Some primal memory from eons past, a fear of beasts in the woods, was tickled at the sight of the waist high night-black canine.

It advanced without fear. Before it had been sent to this reflection the Two had said things would go smoothly. But they were not infallible, no matter how celestial. That massive creature that had attacked the wagon had been a prime example. It should have only attacked the warrior and the wraith. The Two had also whisked away another pair far too early. Where they were now only the Two knew. They were getting hasty, sloppy, but the situation was dire enough to warrant it.

“Halt, beast,” the guard barked, brandishing his lucerne.

“Hail, guardian. May I enter this outpost?” the dog asked politely.

The guard didn’t seem surprised that a dog could talk. Then again, in this reflection everything was a machine, and animals, or animalia as they called them here, existed solely as machine replicas. So, perhaps he thought it was just another facsimile.

“What is your business?”

“I am catching up with the caravan on special See business. Maximum priority,” the dog said, making a show of keeping its head level with its tall black-maned body. Not threatening, but not submissive either.

“Identification and proof of claim.”

The dog thought for a moment. Should it lie or tell the truth? It decided on the former. It bared its yellow fangs in a snarl. “You almost hindered our progress earlier. I am part of the retinue but was acting as rear guard. I was delayed, and now what? You deny me entry? Very well, I shall take your ident-codes to See high-command and have you excommunicated,” it said and made to turn away.

“Hold,” the guard barked. This time his voice was wary for another reason. “I apologize, things have been tense around here.”

“I am aware. Purists and Atlanteans,” the dog said with a chuckle.

“Please, enter,” said the guard.

The dog nodded and passed the guard, very nearly brushing up against him.

“What is your name?” the guard called after him, “for the log?”

The large black dog stopped and looked back. “Aenocyon Dirus. But call me Wolf.”

 

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