First Gear Read online

  “No. You can’t die.” He’d not done everything to lose her now.

  He tore at her blouse, ripped it open, and didn’t even realize he cried until the heat of his tears fell on her skin, mixing with her blood. Much like when he’d almost died, he pushed the gear over the shaft of the arrow. Pushed it until it was firmly seated against her wound. She’d die if this didn’t work.

  He twisted it so that the blood, now only sluggishly leaking from the wound on her chest, could activate it. Would she have the strength to recover?

  Would she ever forgive him? If she lived, then he could atone. Because keeping her in this world was the only thing that mattered.

  He stood back—and prayed. Prayed to the Mecha Gods he’d found. Promised he would do everything in his power to return them to greatness if they would only let his wife and child live.

  It took an eternity in his mind before he heard that first gasping breath.

  “Onaria!” He clasped her hand and stared into her face, her beautiful blinking eyes that stared at him in confusion and betrayal.

  “How could you?”

  “I’d do anything to save your life.”

  “But I didn’t want…Didn’t…” Her expression went through a myriad of expressions at once, until it eventually settled on a soft smile. “Thank you.” She then closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  She would live, and that was all that mattered.

  It was only then he realized he had a wide-eyed audience. He signaled to his followers. “Clean her up and put her to bed.” Jool turned to Lorhj. “I need you to come with me. Show me the guard who was supposed to be with her today.”

  The man proved easy to find, hovering outside the temple, looking nervous and rightfully so.

  Jool stood on the steps, tall and angry. His voice boomed. “You neglected my wife. Because of you, she and my child almost died.”

  The guard hit his knees, groveling. “I’m so sorry, first prophet.”

  But the voice within had no mercy. “And the Gods said, he who is unworthy of his gear shall find it stripped from him.” He nodded to Lorhj, who, in turn, signaled to some other acolytes.

  Not one person raised a hand to help the screaming guard as his gear was carved from his skin. The bleeding body was thrown into the jungle for the wild animals to eat.

  Yet that wasn’t enough to assuage the rage inside Jool.

  He stalked into the woods, already knowing Niimmo had fled. But he followed. The trail proved easy to find, the blood traces he left giving him away. He cornered Niimmo by the edge of the mountain.

  Despite knowing he was caught, the man never cowered. Even with a gut wound, he held a knife in his hand, ready to fight. Such spirit. So much knowledge and strength. Yet he chose to use it for evil.

  “I should have tracked you down and killed you that day by the river,” Jool mused aloud. “But I was weak. Sentimental. I knew you might survive and hoped you’d learn a lesson and stay far away.”

  Niimmo’s chin angled stubbornly. “It is my duty to defend the temple against the likes of you.”

  “The likes of me?” Jool smiled. “Long after you are dead, the world will know my name. And as for you…” The perfect punishment curled his lips. “You’ll be known as my first priest.”

  “What?”

  Before Niimmo could grasp his intent, Jool threw himself at the man, the gear in his hand a thick one, heavy with the spirit inside. So much stronger than the others he’d given his acolytes. He rammed it into the belly of his enemy.

  And when Niimmo stopped thrashing, he smiled.

  About time you found me a vessel.

  21

  Onaria and Jool’s daughter, the first child since the upgrade with the gears, was born without any complications. There was much rejoicing, especially since she showed no signs of developing a cough. The Mecha Gods surely smiled upon them.

  Recovered quickly, and wearing a simple white gown, Onaria cradled their daughter, Mi’shl, who had a full head of curly, dark hair and big, beautiful eyes. “Praise to the Mecha Gods and this miracle,” she whispered. Onaria had come around to seeing the good of the gears. Or, at least, stopped disparaging them, quelling the guilt at what he’d done.

  Jool beamed. “She is perfect.” At least as perfect as a biological being could be.

  He already had plans for when she hit her twentieth turn of the giant gear in the temple, the age deemed old enough to receive a cog. He’d saved a special one for her and planned to teach her everything he knew, and then some.

  Mi’shl was the perfect daughter for a prophet. She delighted in following her father around and grasped the beauty of the mecha parts that protected them. She was his only child, because while the gears could fix many things, fertility still proved difficult. But that was for the best. They didn’t want to make the same mistakes with their planet as the previous generations.

  Keeping the population under control was one of his objectives. The other was to find a way to recycle used cogs.

  It turned out his daughter was the answer. When she turned twenty, she was presented with her first gear. The sentient metal, one of the ancient ones that used to reside on a pedestal, wasn’t one of strength or agility. Not even of cognition, but creation.

  Mi’shl became the first Tinqqer, capable of shaping the sentient metal to create intricate upgrades. Like ones that allowed them to explore the broken world beyond the mountains and begin the process of cleaning it.

  Other great minds sprouted over time and salvaged the broken machines left behind. The intrepid discovered how to travel to the stars. For their world wasn’t the only one with a temple on it.

  Those that survived near extinction eschewed their past and looked to the future. They became ardent followers of the Mecha Bible and the first prophet. And thrived.

  Epilogue

  A long time later…

  Jool saved his planet. The once dying world rejuvenated through a program of cleansing and a natural culling of its population.

  Rebuilding it hadn’t been easy. Many things he’d had to do weighed heavily on him. As did age when his cogs began to finally wear out.

  As had happened with the gods, his time to serve was done.

  Standing atop the platform that let him look out over the valley that boasted more trees than anything, he waited for the one who’d stayed by his side the entire journey.

  Onaria appeared, her hair a bit more gray than yesterday. The wrinkles more pronounced. Like him, she’d opted not to get any upgrades as her cogs wore out. There was no shame in saying goodbye to a life well lived.

  “Wife.” He still got a thrill out of the title. He reached for her hand as she neared.

  “I knew I’d find you up here.”

  “I find myself remembering so much as the cogs wind down,” he murmured. “Like how we first met. We had a good life.”

  “We did. But at what cost?” The whisper spoke of a sorrow that had become heavier of late.

  “You’re missing Octavia.” He stated, speaking of their granddaughter who’d been one of the acolytes killed in a temple they’d found in the next galaxy over. The clock on that world ran down while the explorers were in it.

  Tick. Tock. Done.

  It seemed the end of time could be measured.

  “I miss her. And all those who’ve passed before us. I never wanted to live forever.” She gave him a sharp look.

  A poke about the decision he’d once made a long time ago. “I did it to save you. To save our child.”

  “Against my wishes.”

  “Can you blame me?” He arched a brow. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat to spend my life with you.”

  “And I’m glad you did. We had a good life.” She turned to him and smiled softly. “But now it has to end. I’m tired.”

  “I’m ready.” He held out his hand, and together, they gazed upon a world born anew.

  And when the temple acolytes came looking, they found nothing. Not a trace.

&
nbsp; Not even a single cog.

  The Mecha Gods had taken their most devout follower, and the Siyborghs never forgot him.

  * * *

  The End

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