The First Nova I See Tonight by Jason Kilgore (the false prince .txt) 📕

from the rest of my mind, that momentarily disrupted its hold over me."

Dirken put a hand on Yiorgos's shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're out of there. It threatened to fry your brain."

Yiorgos sighed. "But its goal is not to destroy, Dirk. It still has at its core a desire to save people from self-destruction. It's still an insurance computer at heart, calculating risk assessments. It knows that all activities come with risk, and that a human's most basic instinct is self-preservation. So, to help us preserve our own lives, as a culture, it would threaten humanity with death in order to have us give up all weapons or means of hurting each other. It understands the irony of that threat." He looked again into Dirken's eyes. "And it knows that one day, perhaps hundreds of years from now, it will be found again. While it was using my mind and body, it was also planting seeds in every computer it could make contact with." He sighed. "I couldn't see those plans, though. Who the hell knows what it's going to do when that time comes?"

Dirken shrugged and took Yiorgos's arm to help him up. "I'm sure we'll be long dead by then. It'll be up to some other generation to worry about."

"But it also had more immediate plans, Dirk. It was moments away from taking control of the Earth's systems when you cut the communications lines."

"Good thing I did, bud."

"Well, at least you did something right. Your plans suck, by the way. How many times have we been captured in the last couple days?"

Dirken laughed, picking up the arc blade again. "Hey, we're still living, aren't we?"

Yiorgos harrumphed. "My Greek grandmother, my yia-yia, used to say me, 'To paidí mou, living is very different from being alive. One is rewarding. The other is survival.'"

Dirken helped him to his feet. "Well, we're still surviving. Let's get out of here and do some living."

Eow was examining the Heart. The little lights on it, which had once been green, were now flashing red and yellow. "I think it's still active," she said.

"Well, we can't destroy it, apparently," Dirken responded. "How do we put it back to sleep?"

"AVA's still powered by the computer underneath," Yiorgos said. He took a step around to the front of the altar, reached down, and flipped a switch. The readout on the computer base went dark. The little lights on the Heart blinked frantically, with no obvious rhythm. Then, one by one, they went green and dimmed. "AVA should be in sleep mode again."

Dirken expected a triumphant look from his friend, but instead, Yiorgos seemed almost sad.

"Good," Eow said, ripping cords out of the sphere, disconnecting it from the computer base. Her knife had disappeared somewhere again.

"Do you still have that fightercraft?" Dirken asked her.

"Yes," Eow answered, lifting the sphere from its cradle with a grunt. "It is in a clearing not far behind the pyramid."

"Good. Time to make our escape."

She flashed him a look of annoyance. Her meaning was clear: The fighter isn't yours to use. And he gave a smug look back: I consider it mine. But neither said such things aloud and they all moved toward the entrance, though Yiorgos was unsteady. Dirken put Yiorgos's human arm around his shoulder to help him walk.

Dirken stepped through the doorway, blinking against the strong, tropical sunlight. The sounds of blasterfire had stopped. In the entry, Dirken turned and looked to his left and saw Juarez still laying there, pale but still alive, the spear sticking out of his gut. He was looking out the opening to the platform beyond, horror on his bearded face.

Dirken's eyes adjusted. On the platform stood half a dozen wounded pirates of different species with the bodies of dead and dying Acolytes around them in growing puddles of blood. One corpse off to the side was on fire. Dirken figured the ancient Mayans would approve of the scene.

In the middle of the pirates stood the "Bloodhawk," Captain Neenan, the tip of his blaster red-hot from being fired so much. His humanoid upper body straightened as his four, stern eyes focused on Dirken and Yiorgos. This time the Bloodhawk was bare-chested, his arms and torso a mass of rippling muscle in places no human muscles could be found. The front of his centaur body and the left side of his face were bright green with inflammation and burns, a souvenir from the exploding battery packs from their last fight, in the hangar of the brigantine.

Other than Juarez, the only Acolyte still alive was the "slave" woman, now cowering under the Bloodhawk. He stood over her, one massive, lion-like centaur's foot upon her head, pressing down with enough pressure that she cried out in pain. "Please!" she screamed, hand whipping at his clawed, scaly paw, her eyes rolling to Juarez, then Dirken, then to the slumped body of the Aussie. She seemed to calm herself, then muttered, "Mia," and reached out toward the Aussie's body.

"Well, well," the Bloodhawk said, narrowing his eyes and leering at Dirken. His voice was smooth and unperturbed from the fight up the stairs. "If it isn't the same three who stole my fighter and the Heart. You are outnumbered and cornered. Fire, and you die." He holstered his blaster. "But I'd like to repay you for the magnificent scars you've given me. Duel with me. If you live, my men will let you go." He grinned. "It is the pirate code."

He pulled his scimitar from its scabbard and pressed a button. The blade burst to life with a hum, the edge glowing with molten blue plasma.

Dirken huffed. "Shit." He handed Yiorgos his blaster then activated the arc blade. Blue sparks popped and jumped across the parallel blades.

"You're not actually going to do this?" Yiorgos gasped. Dirken knew that it was the pirate code that if anyone interfered, they would all be killed.

"You got a better plan?"

The cyborg tightened his jaw and didn't answer, looking away, his burned left hand gingerly grasping