“Miller is going to recreate every species?” Wyatt asked, stunned.
“Of course,” Miller said. “As long as Miller destroys the two false gods, Miller can do it.” The way he spoke about killing a false god was as casual as a walk.
Miller led Wyatt up to the second floor. The layout was different from downstairs: shelves of books, and rows of preserved animal specimens. Time had passed, but the specimens were still eerily lifelike.
Miller pulled books at random and tossed them onto the table in front of Wyatt.
“These are the revelations the true god gave Miller.”
Wyatt looked down, one title after another:
Lansen Planet Animal Encyclopedia
The Origin and Evolution of Species
The Secrets of DNA
Insect Compendium
Molecular Biology
Genetic Blueprint of Life Physics
Experimental Records of Biological Gene Editing
…
More than a dozen volumes, each thicker than a hand. All biology. Many included holo-video explanations.
Then Wyatt saw a title that made his processor seize for a beat:
Illustrated Compendium of Mythic Monsters Through the Ages.
“Look at these animals,” Miller said, almost giddy. “Better than ugly iron golem-men, right? Sorry—no offense. Miller been studying these books. Many words Miller can’t read, but pictures are clear. Give Miller time and Miller can create all these species. Heh. Only useful thing humans left behind.”
Wyatt stayed silent for several seconds, then chose a different angle.
“How will Miller fight two false gods at the same time?” he asked. “With a few trees? A swarm of insects? We both know what a false god can do. It has world-ending power. It will burn the swarm and rip the giant trees out by the roots. Iron Man has seen Miller’s battlefield with the false god. Miller didn’t win. And the other god isn’t weaker. If Miller fights both at once, Miller will fail fast.”
“Trees? Beetles?” Miller hissed. “No. No, no, no. Iron Man wrong.”
“The trees were only to enforce a global communications blackout,” Miller said. “So the false god couldn’t command its stupid iron puppets. That goal is already done. Miller doesn’t care about those trees.”
“Miller has other weapons?” Wyatt blurted, caught off guard.
“Of course.” Miller leaned close, voice dropping with relish. “Miller can easily, quickly destroy most of their puppets. Like the Judgment Day the false god brought to humans—Miller will make the false god taste the same. The swarm is only to clean up the small remainder. Heh. Consider it Miller’s repayment to humanity.”
“What weapon is that powerful?” Wyatt asked.
“Before Iron Man chooses a side, Miller can’t tell,” Miller said. He walked to the railing and pointed at a massive map. “So? Join Miller. Let Miller and Iron Man make a new world together.”
For an instant, Wyatt considered agreeing just to hear the secret. But he shook his head.
“Iron Man can’t,” he said. “Not unless Miller stops treating the Tower Clan as an enemy.”
Miller didn’t turn around. “Miller can’t do that either.”
“Then Iron Man has nothing else to say.”
Wyatt gave up on persuading him. While Miller’s back was still turned, Wyatt snatched the Illustrated Compendium of Mythic Monsters Through the Ages and slipped it into the storage compartment beneath his sword scabbard.
The moment it was hidden, Miller turned back. “Hah. Looks like Iron Man didn’t make the correct choice.”
“Time will prove who’s right,” Wyatt said. He headed for the door. “Good luck, my friend. Goodbye.”
Miller exhaled, regret threading his voice. “Miller also wish Iron Man luck. Goodbye, my friend. Hope next time we meet, it’s not on a battlefield.”
Wyatt followed the tunnel back to the surface. He hadn’t gone far before Miller’s voice rang out behind him.
“Wait! Iron Man!”
Wyatt’s processor spiked. He turned. “What is it?”
Miller approached carrying something. Around them, the lizardmen shifted—casually, but in a way that placed Wyatt in the middle. Wyatt took half a step back, angling his body, ready.
“Even if Miller can’t return the energy source,” Miller said, “Iron Man’s armor can be returned.”
He held out a piece of chest plating.
Wyatt recognized it immediately: the armor cover for his power bay. He took it.
“Thank you.”
“One more warning,” Miller said, locking eyes with him. “Miller can’t make the swarm distinguish Iron Man from the false god’s puppets. To them, all of you look the same. So Iron Man be careful.”
Miller’s voice dropped. “Also… Miller doesn’t know why Iron Man came here, but the false god has gathered large forces in this mountain range. Soon there will be battle after battle between the peaks. But since Iron Man is here—don’t leave. Find a mountain and hide. It can save Iron Man’s life.”
With that, Miller turned and walked away. The lizardmen left with him, until none remained.
Wyatt didn’t understand. If battles were coming, why warn him not to leave? The logic felt contradictory. He turned it over for a while and still couldn’t make it fit.
But the sun was already low, and his people were waiting inside the Sunflower. He returned to where he’d stashed the flyer, strapped in, and took to the air.
***
By the time he reached the valley where the Sunflower was hidden, night had fallen.
From above he spotted the supply truck parked beside the ATV. Dorian and a CTR-5 were busy installing a cloaking generator.
“You’re back,” Dorian said as soon as Wyatt landed. “You gave me a scare. I thought we’d been discovered.”
“Eisen and the others made it back?” Wyatt asked.
Dorian nodded. Wyatt glanced at the truck and saw his skimmer bike lashed on top. A CTR-5 was already stripping out the engine and power source.
“Yes. Everything went smoothly. They got back about half an hour before you.”
“Good.”
Dorian walked Wyatt into the ship. Aside from Linneya—already asleep—everyone else was working at full tilt.
As they walked, Dorian summarized the day’s progress. Every salvageable robot had been repaired. Including Dorian, there were now six CTR-5 engineering units. Eleven Hyenas. Thirty-four humanoid robots assembled.
The humanoids were stitched together from Exiler and Flamecaller parts. Many had terrible coordination and were no longer fit for combat, but they could still do heavy labor. Add the nine they already had, and the total number of humanoid units reached forty-three.
When Wyatt entered the assembly workshop behind the ship’s island, he found it transformed.
The corridor leading from the entrance had been widened from two meters to four. Inside the workshop, a shuttlecraft was under reconstruction. More than a dozen robots moved in and out, stripping away useless internal components to maximize space. Two CTR units were removing the shuttle’s short wings so it could be hauled out later.
“Good,” Wyatt said, satisfied. “Fast progress.”
“Carriages don’t need engines,” Dorian said, still worried. “As long as they’re sealed, we just swap in steering wheels and a synchronizing axle. Working day and night, we can finish two carriages in a single day.”
“The hard part is the wing,” Dorian continued. “I calculated it—given our engine thrust, and assuming we skip flaps, each wing needs to be at least 12.5 meters long.”
“But we’ve found a good material,” he added, pointing at a stack of long ribs. “The frames from the ship’s solar-charging umbrellas. Light, strong. We can use them as wing spars. Add ribs, beams, stringers—then skin it.”
“So what’s the hard part?” Wyatt asked.
“The tail,” Dorian said. “The rudder needs an electronic control system—and right now we’ve zero of that. Building it from basic parts would eat a lot of time.”
“Then don’t,” Wyatt said. “Simplify. Use a steering-wheel linkage like a ground vehicle.”
“That’s different,” Dorian said. “The mechanical linkage needs a lot of force to move the rudder.”
“Do we look short on force?” Wyatt said. “We’re short on time. War is coming.”
“Then it’s doable,” Dorian said, relief leaking into his voice. “We’ve enough hands now. I’ll try to finish in five days.”
“Good.”
Wyatt left the workshop and headed for the growing bay.
Minks and Eisen were there, unusually animated. They were clustered around several culture trays, talking so excitedly they didn’t even notice Wyatt enter.
“What’s got you so happy?” Wyatt asked.
Eisen turned. “You’re back. I only just returned too—we recovered your skimmer bike.”
“I saw.”
“Lord Wyatt, come look,” Minks said, optics bright. “Pinecone pulled off another miracle.”
Under ultraviolet lamps, several palm-sized culture dishes had sprouted five or six seedlings. Each looked different: some heart-shaped, some teardrop-shaped. Their colors were crisp and fresh, almost luminous.
“We grew new varieties,” Minks said.
“What are they?” Wyatt asked.
“Heartfruit and ridgeberry,” Minks said. “From the orchard plantation. You remember, right?”
“Of course,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t expect them to sprout. Linneya just gained two new foods.”
“One,” Minks corrected. “Ridgeberry isn’t edible.”
“Then what’s it for?”
Eisen answered, “It can be used to extract macrolide compounds—a kind of antibiotic.”
“What does that help with?”
“It can ease inflammation in Linneya’s cardio-pulmonary system,” Eisen said. “That’s what’s actually worth celebrating.”
Wyatt nodded. “Good. Well done.”
Beside them, Pinecone chittered—cheerfully claiming the credit.
Wyatt left the growing bay and went next door to the food storage room.
Starling was there with a handwriting slate, recording inventory. When she saw Wyatt, she smiled.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt glanced around. “We’re okay on survival supplies for Linneya?”
“We’re fine,” Starling said. “We still have sixty pounds of orange beans. It’s not much, but Minks’s batch will be ready to harvest before we leave. And with the new heartfruit sprouts, food shouldn’t be an issue.”
She continued, “Water’s sufficient too. We’ve got around seventy tons left. There’s no way we can take it all, so we can use it freely these next few days.”
“Good.”
“She took a bath today for the first time in a while,” Starling said, amused. “She was thrilled. And she’s really excited about this trip—keeps talking about you.”
Then she remembered something. “Dorian said you went on patrol. Why are you back so late?”
“I…” Wyatt hesitated. “My patrol area was bigger than expected.”
He noticed a few boxes stacked nearby and changed the subject. “What are those?”
“Books,” Starling said. “I’ve been collecting them. I’ll choose a few for her to read on the road.”
“Books…” Wyatt said. “I’ve one too.”
He pulled out the Illustrated Compendium of Mythic Monsters Through the Ages and handed it over.
Starling flipped through a few pages, then frowned. “It’s all monster illustrations. Doesn’t feel appropriate.”
She looked up, curious. “Where did you get this?”
“I grabbed it from a ruin.”
“Uh… why would you take a scary book like that?”
“If I didn’t take it,” Wyatt said, “it would be scarier.”
“Huh? Why?”
“It’s nothing,” Wyatt said. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”
Starling saw the tension he was trying to hide. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Did the plan change?”
“No.” Wyatt forced his voice level. “Don’t overthink it. Keep working. And get some rest.”
He left the storage room and returned to the ship’s island. Staring at the map pinned to the wall, he found himself turning Miller’s words over again.