The Mechanical Crown

When the revolution comes

"You need to work together," Aera said. "Do as I say and you can stop her."

"What's the plan?" asked one of the Bruckin soldiers, a woman by the name of Sabine.

"Don't die," Tranton growled, hefting his sword.

Kraisa's voice boomed out, echoing off the walls and ceiling. "My daughter," she said, "why are you with them? Come back to me. I am your mother. None of these people are worth your time."

Kirya took a step forward and the workers closed ranks, blocking her path. They were separated from where Kraisa stood by at least twenty rows of bodies. The sphere thrummed insistently in the centre of the chamber, the glowing light enveloping it and the connecting pipes continuing to increase in intensity, shifting the large, carved space out of the gloom they'd initially found it in, every crack and angle of the red rock walls now illuminated by the pulsing light.

"You're not my mother," Kirya shouted back. "I know that you killed my mother, and stole her body. Just like Aera tried to kill Tarn. You're both parasites and I want you gone from my world."

Aera leaned in close to Tarn. "A harsh assessment," she said, "and not how I'd describe it. We're very different, you know."

"I'll be gone," Kraisa replied. "If you're not interested in working with me, then so be it, but you'll all be coming with me regardless."

Kirya looked back at them. "What is she talking about?"

Tranton and Tarn shrugged at the same time, though Tarn anticipated that his unwanted assistant would have a theory, as proved to be the case. "That confirms it, then," Aera said, sucking in air between her lips - or making a good impression of doing so, at least. "She's going to try to get back home. All of this has been about recreating the original experiment. I didn't think it would be possible using the technology of this world."

"If you're leaving," Tranton said, "then just leave. Why all this destruction? Why do everything that you've done?"

Kraisa laughed, as if talking to a naive child. "I can't just go back empty-handed," she said, then paused, as if catching herself before saying anything more. "All this is besides the point. If you would all rather die underground, here, alone, rather than die in the streets above, it makes no difference to me."

She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, then the gathered workers began to move, abruptly and aggressively, the ring of bodies tightening.

"Don't hurt them!" Tarn reiterated.

"Then what do you suggest?" Tranton hissed, stepping aside as a worker lunged at him. He brought the hilt of the sword down on the back of the boy's head, and he slumped to the ground. Tranton shrugged apologetically at Tarn. "They might be unarmed but they're going to rip us apart if we stay here and do nothing."

Two other workers had taken hold of Kirya and were trying to pull her into the depths of the mob. She wrestled with them, trying to squirm free, to no avail, then she gestured with one hand, the bow forming in the air around the ring, its curve arcing up suddenly and jabbing one of her assailants beneath the chin. He let go and staggered back, giving her enough space to spin free of the other. On a hunch, Tarn stepped forward and placed his hand against the worker's forehead. He could sense the tendrils connecting his mind to Kraisa's, could feel the hatred and disregard being pushed into his thoughts. Tarn pulled at the tendril, plucked at it, and it snapped.

The worker stopped struggling, stopped resisting, and looked about in confusion. Unable to speak, as Tarn had once been, he simply gestured and made odd, guttural noises. Tarn stroked his forehead and spoke softly. "it will be alright," he said. His words seemed to calm the man.