Page 34 of The Last Aquarius
His eyes met hers and noted the wry amusement glinting in her gaze. “Glad you enjoyed. Perhaps, you’d be open to doing something similar again?” queried in a pathetically hopeful tone his warrior brothers would have mocked.
“I’d be open to that, so long as it doesn’t interfere with our mission.”
Ah, a woman after his own heart. “Any suggestions on what we should explore today?”
“Would you like to see the weapon I built?”
He froze and then wondered if he’d misunderstood. “Seriously? What happened to never fucking happening?” He paraphrased a little more vulgarly than necessary. Blame his shock.
She chuckled. “It occurred to me that I might have been a tad conceited to assume that the method I used to destroy the Kukakk is the only viable solution. Perhaps, as you said, outside eyes will see something I missed or the concept can be adapted to cause less damage with the same result.”
“I’ll admit I’m not an engineer or scientist. I’m better with software than machines. However, Little Star?—”
She interrupted. “Who?”
Wait, did he detect a note of jealousy? He almost puffed his chest. “Little Star is my AI system and is quite brilliant. Once I pass along the bomb’s design, we can have it run simulations. I don’t suppose you have footage of the actual blast? Maybe energy readings?”
“Yes. My team and I measured everything, the power signatures of the Kukakk, the force required to shred it. The resulting tidal wave of energy.” Her lips turned down. “We documented everything, but it did no good since we couldn’t stop the resulting chain reaction.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek. “As promised, I will do my best to fix Mars.”
For some reason that only made her expression sadder. “I know you will.”
While he might have undressed her in the dream, they both remained fully clothed, and it didn’t take long for them to prepare themselves. Rations and a caffeinated drink for breakfast, a brush of their teeth, a splash of water to face and hands, and they were ready to go. As they walked, she told him more of the event.
“We built five machines, one more than needed just in case one of them failed.”
“Where did you assemble the energy bomb?”
“Right here in the citadel. The lower levels contain workshops where Martian engineers used to tinker andinnovate. While the Kukakk occupied four major population centers, we managed to keep them out of our capital. It helped that the citizens here were the first to be genetically modified to reject their energy signature. Hard to achieve control when you can’t possess the people.”
“That makes sense. I assume, since you never had to deploy the fifth, it remains here?”
She nodded as they stood on a round circle in the floor, which abruptly descended. He didn’t lose his cookies or composure, only barely. The elevator system had no enclosed walls allowing him glimpses of the various levels as they descended. Down. Down. Down…
“How deep does this place go?” he finally asked, having lost count.
“Ninety-one floors.”
“Geezus. Why go so deep underground?”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard a few theories, the most popular being because such a tall structure would have been unseemly. Another claimed it was safer.”
“From what?”
“I don’t know. There are periods of our distant past that are missing. When I became queen, all of this already existed. Albeit parts of it had been ungraded since their origin, as clever inventions became must-haves for comfort.”
When the elevator stopped, Aquarius kept on a brave face and tried to not think of the hundreds and hundreds of feet of rock and dirt between him and the surface. In a sense, this wasn’t any worse than Tower, if one ignored the lack of windows to the outside.
Ishtar led the way, her stride brisk. She passed by doors with signs in a language he couldn’t read. Martian. Cool. He’d have to ask Tower if they had any books so he could learn it—or he could perhaps nudge Ishtar for lessons.
At a huge door, she paused, and unlike other chambers, this one required her pressing her palm print to a square spot on the wall. It glowed, illuminating her hand before the door panel slid open.
He didn’t know what he’d expected. On Earth, machine shops, even computer labs dealing in assembly, tended to have a clutter of parts, whirring machines, a hum of electricity, and running motors.
Not so in here. He entered a vast space, probably forty or more paces across and just as wide. The ceiling overhead arched in a dome. In the center of room, the only thing of real note, a tall, polished metal cylinder with orangish-red gem-like nubs protruding.
“There’s the energy bomb.” She waved to it.
