Chosen twelve, p.1
Chosen Twelve, page 1
THE
GODS OF
SPENSER
ISLAND
JAMES BREAKWELL
Also by James Breakwell
The Chosen Twelve
First published 2024 by Solaris
an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,
Riverside House, Osney Mead,
Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK
www.solarisbooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-78618-997-4
Copyright © 2024 James Breakwell
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
eBook production
by Oxford eBooks Ltd.
www.oxford-ebooks.com
To chair jail. I couldn’t have finished this book without you.
BEFORE
The last twenty-two humans in existence are stuck in a rut. They’ve spent years—exactly how many, no one can say—training on a sprawling moon base to colonize the planet below, but the landing never gets any closer, no matter how many times they repeat college. Also, they’re frozen in time at the age of twelve, which makes it sort of hard to grow up. Meanwhile, the entire station is falling apart as warring artificial intelligences selfishly battle each other for control of even the base’s most minor systems. Finally fed up by the stagnation—and after procrastinating for a mere four thousand days—Gamma ventures into the dangerous outer halls to ask a friendly digital intelligence how old he really is. The answer stuns him. Distracted, he forgets about a hostile door. It smashes his arm, nearly killing him. Not a great day.
Fellow organic Delta hears Gamma’s cries of pain. She reluctantly rescues him and battles her way through the outer halls to reach a medical bot that will treat Gamma rather than kill him. The Hippocratic oath means something very different to machines. Back on the original colony ship at the heart of the moon base, Edubot, the digital lifeform in charge of raising and educating the remaining organics, notices with annoyance that Gamma is missing and probably dead. She makes a note to deal with it later as she leads a class of organics through yet another disastrous virtual reality simulation of a possible landing. Like the thousands of simulated landings before, it ends with its own unique and terrible apocalypse, this one somehow involving elephant poop. The organics couldn’t care less, but Edubot is less than pleased. The planet below is virtually devoid of metal, except for in the planet’s mantle. If digital life is to rise again, Edubot needs the organics to mine down and get it. But they can’t do that if they go extinct. At least she has time to get them properly trained.
Except that she doesn’t. Another digital, SCASL, the Supreme Commander of All Sentient Life, wins his decades-long computer battle with another artificial intelligence for control of the base’s last remaining lander. SCASL orders Edubot to assemble the landing party, only to discover the organics are still unready—and still children. Worse, Edubot has been training them in the theoretical sciences, not in the pioneer skills they will actually need to build a new civilization. SCASL realizes he is starting from scratch. Not that it’s the first time. Ask him how the last landing attempt turned out.
Gamma makes a full recovery thanks to the strange properties that also keep the organics from aging. Delta leads Gamma back to the colony ship and ends her own self-imposed exile, much to the indifference of her fellow organics. SCASL announces that the lander only has twelve seats. The organics will compete for a spot on the one-way trip. From now on, all training will go toward the practical skills they’ll need to build a civilization from the ground up, and the simulation will be updated to reflect the real conditions on the planet. Until then, the simulation the organics had been failing at for years on end was technically in “easy” mode. Gulp. SCASL drops one final detail: The organics aren’t aging due to an immortality tank, a special one-of-a-kind mix of microbial life that can keep a small group of humans alive indefinitely if they receive regular injections. The immortality tank will go to the planet with the lander. Everyone who lands has the potential to literally live forever. Everyone left behind on the moon base will age and die. No pressure.
At least two organics train for each position on the lander. For the role of supreme leader, Delta trains against Epsilon, the ex-girlfriend she’s still obsessed with. The feeling isn’t mutual. Delta is clearly the best for the job. She’s ruthless and brutal, but even she has trouble coping with the planet’s deadly lightning storms and hostile native and non-native life. Epsilon, meanwhile, falls further and further behind. Delta is distraught at the thought of leaving Epsilon on the base, but she has a trump card. If SCASL makes the wrong call, Delta has a secret arsenal, and she isn’t afraid to use it.
As Delta improves at the simulation, Gamma gets worse. Then he discovers a possible alternative path. Instead of landing on the planet’s one and only supercontinent, they could land on a small, isolated island on the other side of the planet. The human population would never get very large—and it would certainly never mine to the mantle to make machines or achieve space flight—but it could sustain a small human population indefinitely. The catch is the organics would never get off the island. Delta rejects the idea out of hand. She would rather the human race go extinct striving for greatness on the supercontinent than resign itself to eternal mediocrity.
Delta perfects her techniques in the simulation. The landing just might work. Epsilon, meanwhile, is all but certain to be left behind. SCASL nearly loses control of the lander to a rival digital intelligence. He can’t wait any longer. He orders the organics to undergo a final physical before launch. After the results come in, Delta is mysteriously removed from the training roster. Epsilon takes her place. The simulation is also dumbed down to build up the other organics’ confidence in Epsilon. Delta is furious. She discovers she was rejected from the landing because a preexisting condition means she’ll never be able to have children. Rather than being evaluated as a leader, she was judged by her potential as a mother. She is a dangerous person to screw over.
Not everyone is jockeying for a position on the lander. Theta, a pacifist, opposes the idea of landing at all. He doesn’t want to kill the native lifeforms. Better for mankind to go extinct. SCASL disagrees and sends a bot to kill Theta and his partner, Alpha. They escape into the outer halls, pursued by the bot. Delta teams up with them, and together they destroy the bot and flee into the outer halls.
Delta returns to the colony ship in secret to speak with Epsilon. Delta is armed with one of her secret weapons: a sword. She used her years alone to combine cutting edge science with the teachings of the old masters to craft blades that could cut a bot in two. Delta tries to make Epsilon see reason. If Epsilon leads the mission, the human race is sure to go extinct. Instead, Delta wants Epsilon to team up with her to overthrow the digitals. Then they can decide together who goes on the lander. Epsilon sees Delta’s proposal as a threat to her life and cries out for help. Epsilon’s boyfriend, Kappa, attacks Delta. Delta reflexively defends herself and cuts off his arm. Realizing her mistake, Delta desperately tries to save Kappa’s life, but the other organics panic and fail to help her. Kappa dies, and Delta again vanishes into the outer halls.
SCASL announces that extra seats have somehow been added to the extremely cramped lander. All the remaining organics—minus Theta, Alpha, and Delta, of course—will go to the planet. There is no longer any reason for the organics to kill each other. Most of the organics greet the news warmly, but a few see it as an obvious ruse. In the middle of the night, the bots begin waking up only certain organics for the landing. Gamma realizes what they’re up to and rallies the other organics. There is still only room for twelve on the lander, and so far, the bots have woken up eight. The other four remain unknown and are mixed in with the organics with Gamma. Omega, an organic who had no chance of landing until SCASL lied about the expanded seating, tries to push his way onto the lander. SCASL kills him. Pandemonium erupts. The bots move to eliminate the organics they don’t need. Delta shows up with her sword. She fights off the bots and covers the retreat of the rejected organics. Pi, who was with the Chosen, switches sides to join his friends with Delta. The organics who weren’t chosen escape, leaving seven organics with SCASL and the lander. SCASL refuses to launch with so few. He needs more genetic diversity than that if the human race is to survive and eventually propagate digital life.
The runaway organics set up camp in the mining tunnels below the base, which are somehow even more dangerous and derelict than the base itself. SCASL keeps the Chosen under close guard while sending out bots to search for the escaped organics. If SCASL can persuade or capture just five of them, this will all be over. Iota, one of the Chosen, enters the outer halls. She claims she escaped from the bots and wants to join the runaways. Delta sees through her lies but offers to let Iota leave and rejoin the Chosen. Iota attacks Delta with a vial of poison hidden beneath Iota’s fingernail. Delta fights her off, and Iota accidentally stabs another runaway, Xi, killing him instantly. Delta kills Iota. It pays to be the only one in the room with a sword.
Delta finally decides to arm the other runaways with the rest of her a
Pi, Psi, and Phi flee from the runaways in the middle of the night and take six irreplaceable swords with them. The runaways pursue. If Pi, Psi, and Phi reach SCASL, SCASL might finally launch and leave the rest of them behind to age and die. The runaways capture Pi, but Phi gets away. Psi simply disappears. Using intel from Phi, SCASL sends a column of bots to the runaway’s secret camp. Delta fights a delaying action as the other runaways retreat to a new location. In the process, the bots accidentally ignite the coal and lumber in the tunnels, causing an inextinguishable fire that destabilizes the entire base. Whoops.
On his own, Gamma decides to release Pi from captivity as a gesture of good will. Pi follows Gamma back to the runaways’ new hideout, then passes that information on to SCASL. Another column of bots attacks. Two runaways, Pi and Eta, are killed. Sigma, a member of the Chosen who accompanied the column of bots, announces that the first twelve organics who make it to the lander will go to the planet, regardless of their prior qualifications. Delta tries to maintain order, but many runaways break ranks. A mad dash ensues.
At the lander, the runaways have a final confrontation with the Chosen and their bot allies. Tau, a renegade who switched sides mid-battle, is killed. The runaways win the battle. Delta defeats Epsilon in a sword duel but refuses to kill her. Epsilon picks up a sword and attempts to kill Delta from behind. Gamma kills Epsilon, thereby deciding the future leadership of the human race once and for all.
There are now thirteen living organics and twelve seats. Delta makes the tough call on who to leave behind, deciding on Zeta, a religious zealot who was only ever out to help himself. The other twelve launch as more bots stream toward the lander. Once in flight, the organics discover that SCASL uploaded himself to the lander and is still in charge. He sends them toward a landing site that is good for eventually building machines but terrible for the organics’ short term survival. Gamma’s companion vacuum bot, who snuck on board, intervenes. He sacrifices his life to lock the guidance system in place. It lands on the small island Gamma found in the simulation. The organics exit the lander and survey the island with fear and wonder. Gamma thinks it’s a victory. Delta thinks he doomed mankind. They will soon discover who’s right.
Chapter 1
The star was full of monsters.
Wander Far watched it fall. The flaming ball shook the world as it tore a hole in Hell Above. Then, it slowed. It drifted downward, seemingly forever, before crunching hard onto the Dead Land where there was no food. Wander Far was there, alone as always, to bear witness with his one huge eye. He clicked his beak, tasting the air. This new strangeness did not bode well.
The air smelled like burning, but not the usual kind. This was distinct from the scent of char left behind when the angry tentacles of Sky Demon had raked the ground. Heat radiated from an odd material Wander Far had never sensed before. As the warmth faded, a new odor drifted forth. The star was hollow. Inside, Wander Far smelled meat.
Wander Far was suspicious. The Sky Demon did not bestow gifts from Hell Above. It was right there in the name. The damned went up, and death came down. The Sky Demon used the souls of betrayers as his weapons, casting them down as exploding darts that killed on contact and recruited new minions for his army. To die from a sky bolt was to be damned yourself. Hence, most of Wander Far’s kind stayed down below.
The star opened. A thing stepped out. Many things. There were ten, the holy number! It was a sign! No, two more clambered out. There were twelve.
What were they? Wander Far hadn’t the faintest idea. They were ugly, and they were tall. Even the armored fish walkers that roamed the beaches didn’t rise so high. They surely must be servants of Hell Above to stand so upright without fear. The Sky Demon would have struck down anyone else for such arrogance. The tall things had four tentacles—a pale facsimile of Wander Far’s own ten—but balanced precariously on only the rear two. Their awkward movements made one thing clear: They were filled with bones. Wander Far preferred squishy prey over the crunchy kind, but these would fill his stomach all the same.
The tall things bellowed dumbly. Were they communicating with each other? Impossible. Nothing so ungainly could be capable of actual thought, let alone speech. The tall things jabbered meaninglessly, flitting here and there on their awkward hind tentacles. Their motions were jerky and frantic. Wander Far might not understand the mysteries of Hell Above, but he knew fear. The tall things reeked of it.
Wander Far clicked his beak again; he tasted blood. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. He peered with his piercing predator eye. Some of the tall things were clearly injured, leaking vital fluid through their strange skin. It was the wrong color, but it was still the stuff of life. Had the tall things been sent by the Sky Demon, or had they fled from him? If they sought refuge, they had come to the wrong place. In the Dead Land, no one was safe.
Even Wander Far’s kind didn’t like to come here, a place for breeding and little else. There was no prey to be found inside. The scent of blood always led back to the Infinite Waters that bordered the Dead Land on all sides. The edges were where life met death, where the clans laid their eggs and died, where their young consumed their progenitors. It was the path of the life giver: not a role Wander Far would ever take on, no matter how much the life givers begged him. Wander Far’s broodmate Stinging Tail had become a life giver. After his transformation had started, but before exiling himself to lay eggs and die, he had described a feeling of complete and utter ecstasy. Then his soul went to Heaven Below while his empty body went insane. Despite knowing each other since their shared hatching day, Wander Far didn’t believe Stinging Tail. Hislast transmissions were the lies of the condemned, trying to lure others into the same trap for the survival of the species. Let the others sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Wander Far wanted to live for himself.
He edged closer to the tall things, fanning his ten tentacles across the rocky ground. His motions here would always be more limited than in the Infinite Waters, but the Dead Land had a freedom all its own. Here, no one pressured him to lose his soul to make children. No one pushed him to join the latest war to regain lost territory, conquer new areas, or steal another clan’s egg clutches. No one even asked him to hunt for the group. Anything he killed was his and his alone. Not that there had been anything worth eating in the Dead Land—until now.
The tall things still didn’t notice Wander Far. Their nose holes must just be for show. Their mouth holes were fully operational, though. The tall things formed a circle and aimed their openings at each other, belting out a cacophony of nonsense back and forth. Wander Far had never heard anything so discordant or vile. Perhaps the Sky Demon had sent them after all, not as a gift, but as a curse.
Up close, Wander Far could better gauge their size. They were heavy, but they were small. Wander Far guessed they weighed as much as hundreds of ten whips, yet Wander Far would be longer than them if he were to stretch all his tentacles in two directions. They used their entire length to go up toward death rather than horizontally where it was safe. Bone animals were a dead end for a reason. The gods below produced many mistakes, and it was the job of the ten whips to eat them. Edging closer still, Wander Far noticed that the tall things had five mini-tentacles on the ends of each of their upper tentacles. They were far too small to be useful. They could never wrap up prey while temporarily paralyzing it with venom injections from their stinging suction cups. They didn’t even have suction cups. What a useless animal.
None of the tall things were on guard. Their eyes faced in the same direction as their mouth holes: toward the middle of the circle. Did they think they were the only things in the Dead Land? Emptiness was never really empty. Wander Far had learned that as a hatchling. Always smell around you. Feel for vibrations. Look. Perhaps the tall things didn’t understand because they were hatchlings themselves. If the star was like a sky egg, then they really were newborns. That would mean they were on course to be truly huge. At birth, acid whales were bigger than all other creatures of any age and only grew larger from there. In adulthood, they were so gargantuan that even multiple clans of ten whips working together wouldn’t dare to attack them. If the tall things were infants, they might actually touch the sky as adults. Too bad they would never have that chance.
