Taking a short break from her important task to water the flowers, Lyudochka thought that she missed her fleshy body. To be unable to smell a flower or warm your fingers with a slice of freshly warmed bread and to never taste cold chocolate milk in the morning… Even such trivialities as a simple breath occasionally gnawed at her, especially when she was all alone and under stress. She remembered every sensation as her circuits stored her memories, never letting them fade. But it wasn't possible to experience them again. No more stretching in front of a window and enjoying the sunlight. Thousands upon thousands of little things she knew and did in the past were no longer possible. Dad had saved her, but immortality had come at a cost too high for her taste.
Oh, enough brooding, Silly-Billy! She scolded herself and whirled back to the papers.
The embassy wasn't a small building; it served as proof of status, three stories high, framed by the immaculate marble statues of the famous saints that held up the roof. A stone path from the gates led past two fountains, where the revelations of the Taker of Oath were secured in the waters, kept safe and visible inside limpid casings. The picture of the founder greeted anyone stepping across the rugs covering the wooden floors. A little trick of lighting kept a faint golden halo around the Founder's head. Simple bronze letters, "Every soul in need of refuge is welcome," were inscribed on the main gates.
Lyudochka's workplace was on the first floor and partly in the basement. Her duties consisted of greeting prospective immigrants, preparing paperwork on behalf of the ambassador, conducting background checks, answering general questions about the Oath, and showing new believers how not to worry about the auras after they had sworn their fealty. It wasn't an overly difficult task, made easier by her boundless stamina. The personnel had been super nice; no one had even mistaken her for a robot.
She took the job hoping to finally meet her mothers, since writing long letters seemed to be a rather stupid way of communication, but Janine and Martyshkina were such stupid cusacks occasionally! But the job grew on her, and Lyudochka found true fulfillment in it. Not that working behind a counter in the capital was bad, but here she met people she never even knew existed!
Scattered papers lay all around the envoy's office, with part of them burning in the fireplace. She stopped, reminding herself about the important detail, and stomped on the ashes. If she still had a heart, it would have threatened to jump out of her chest. No helping it now. She began reading and sorting the documents. Rich donations—essentially bribes—had been made to a company in exchange for industrial espionage to obtain schematics of an augmented mining limb produced by Ingo Industrial. Definitely into the flames. A list of the faithful, with an added chip. The Reclaimers had very strict rules about spreading the Oath, keeping the embassy under surveillance. But according to the papers, the ambassador, Craven Wickedbreed, and not the impostor like her, had gotten around the rules, planting informants. Yep, to the hearth you go! Her leg crushed the chip.
Next was a catalog of people applying for asylum and immigration. Nope, this is important. She clutched the ledger and the USB drives to her chest. Part of her job was in there! Nothing incriminating here either! Nothing incriminating here either. Lyudochka placed the heavy brown ledger, edged with silver, on a table, intending to preserve it, and continued reading. Information about someone going by the moniker Academician, who was trying to establish a relationship with the Oathtakers, offering to trade supposedly valuable information for the acquisition of Ice Fangs children.
Disgusting. Craven Wickedbreed scheduled the deal for refusal but delayed his response, planning to use the Oathtakers' agents to secure the would-be kidnapper. There was nothing like showing these Reclaimers how it was done. What to do… She tapped her metal teeth, examining the sizeable blue folder containing the knowledge of the underhanded deals the various slavers offered the Oathtakers. They didn't owe the Reclaimers any help, but in a more literal sense of the word, she really wanted to see the bastards screwed over with a red-hot iron bar.
No more hesitation! Her oculars scanned the document, and she inserted the USB drives in the sockets of her body, loading the information. Then she connected to the Net, uploading it in full to the Investigation Bureau. Wait! She panicked, realizing she had forgotten to use a burner email and encrypt the connection. Oh crap, crap, I'll be fired! From a cannon, probably! Stupid, idiotic girl! How many times had Martyshkina told you not to hurry, take a breath, and tackle each task with care and attention? Did you listen? No, of course not…
"What. Are. You. Still. Doing. Here?" A voice asked her slowly and deliberately, and Lyudochka turned around, dropping the folder.
The display standing on the redwood table stood on the four thick wires, waving two more in the air. Its screen showed the face of a handsome man in a black leather jacket. He furrowed his brows angrily, nervously tapping on the table with a wire. His keen black eyes dug into her very soul, searching for answers.
"Greetings, sir, LS, sir." She bowed to Lord Steward, the Oathtakers' de facto ruler. "I have committed a treason." Lyudochka decided to come clean.
"A treason? Girl, you are fast."
"A very little one, yes! And an unintentional one! I didn't mean it!"
"Not relevant." Lord Steward ran a hand over his badly shaved chin. "Why the hell haven't you left by now, Lyudochka? The city is under siege."
"Duly noted, sir, yes, noticed it am I." She began to chatter her teeth, even though she was using the voice modulator for speech. That was her natural reaction to admitting a fault. "But I had reasons! We purged the mainframe, but I decided to follow protocol to the letter so as not to leave this treasure trove of potentially incriminating evidence…"
"Screw the documents! Ignore the protocols." Lord Steward's voice sent a nervous jerk through her. "The Reclaimers already know or suspect most of this. Hide in the underground bunker, seal it, and sit tight until a rescue team …"
A beep spurred Lyudochka into action, and she raced out of the room with the portable communication device, clumsily chasing after her. Someone had pressed the emergency button on the entrance gates! What if there was news about Moms, or if her siblings needed a place to hide?
"Lyudochka! You will stop right here, or I will restrain you with… what are even these? Tentacles? Tendrils? Wires? Oh, who cares? Stop right here…"
She ran down the stairs to the second floor. The third floor, reserved for self-defense and combat training, stood empty, and Ur-Champion rested in a meeting room to the left, listening to the binary music that eased headaches and helped focus. His head moved, but she ignored him and flung open the doors. Outside, two badly injured children climbed over the fence. Despite the soot, both were pale, with bloodstains covering them. One bled profusely from his hand, and another had his entire back soaked in the blood spilling from his head.
"It's a robot!" the skinny boy gasped as another boy collapsed, unable to walk any further. Lyudochka stopped herself from correcting him and rushed to them. "Listen, call the guards," he whispered, "and run. Bad people…"
"Won't step in here," she said sternly.
It was a mess, both inside and outside the compound. Smoke and ash stained the water of the fountains; clouds of smog almost completely obscured the street. Her eyes flickered, focused, and discerned an armored group advancing on them. They stepped on another body; she wasn't sure who it was, and she heard the crack of a spine. Their leader, a man in a tusked helmet, kicked the gates wide open and pointed a partially melted cleaver at her.
"Pretty doll," the intruder said, examining her. "Worth ten thousand мөнгө, minimum. What a catch. Mad Hatter will adore you."
"I have no intention of being sold, sir," said Lyudochka.
"Talking," the man gasped. "A doll that talks. Precious. Step aside from the flesh before I scratch your porcelain."
"No." Lyudochka brandished her staff, pointing it at the intruders. All were blessed; there wasn't a single person unloved by God. That's what many people misunderstood about the Oathtakers' philosophy. But these individuals carried blessings grander than most; it was their responsibility to aid and lead, yet she was certain they had misused those gifts, led astray by an inability to control their impulses. "I don't like the way you talk of my guests." She tried to speak steely and sure, and squeaked instead. Her voice modulator produced a gulp, and she wished Moms would be here. "I've… I've already granted them asylum! Yes, that's it! I am the ambassador; I have that right! And I deny you entry; please vacate the premises, otherwise you will be forced to leave!"
The leader raised his cannon and aimed the horrible weapon at her head. It was big enough that a single shot would send her head flying. Lyudochka pressed a button on the staff, activating a protective field around herself and the children, convincing herself not to be afraid. The adults were supposed to protect the young, and her personality was stored in the multiple cores in her body; the loss of a head meant little.
A sofa creaked inside the embassy, and she heard the unsheathing of the legendary sword.
"It is a dangerous thing to refuse us entry," the hordeman told her, towering over her. "Bad. Bad metal. I will educate you on how to be compliant prior to selling. Be reasonable. Do you truly believe you can compel me to do anything? Will you fight me, shiny toy?"
"Oh, I have no idea how to fight at all," Lyudochka whispered. The stomping steps intensified. The intruders laughed, relishing her weakness. Their leader lifted a leg to enter. "But he can."
Ur-Champion walked through the embassy wall, crossing the distance to the intruders with thunderous strides, pebbles rolling down his smooth armor. A flicker of flame danced between the dragon-shaped jaws of his helmet, and he looked down at the enemy leader, saying nothing but casting a long shadow over the man. The silent offer of surrender was declined, and the tusked freak charged into battle.
He was kicked back, and the spewed flame engulfed the entire group, setting men and women alight like candles. Lyudochka heard the crackling detonation of the ammunition and grenades; the intense heat made it impossible even for her lenses to pierce the veil, but where a few lucky survivors darted away, the massive figure broke free, bringing the cleaver up.
"No one cheats Slavetaker!" he roared.
Another kick sent him away from the entrance.
"I have decided otherwise." The sword struck upward in an arc, without form, carrying no finesse, but using sheer brute force, severing the man's arm and ruining a section of the street. Another burst of flame followed. "Shut up and burn," Ur-Champion spoke in a deep, grave tone that carried with it a slight arrogance and assurance given by his station.
Lyudochka turned off the shield, took the staff under the armpit, and lifted both boys, carrying them inside the embassy. She called the looking-down machine bearing Lord Steward's image, half-surprised by her own unexpected decisiveness. Without asking permission, she brought the patients into the bunker, turned on the lights in the hospital wing, and prepared to examine the patients, clean their wounds, and then perform surgery. Lord Steward joined her, patting her hip and pointing to the freezer with the blood packs.
Yes, the poor kids will need transfusions. But first... she had to take care of the immediate issues and determine their blood types.
Lyudochka's arms trembled once, and then she followed Janine's advice and began performing her duty, not forgetting Martyshkina's lesson about not rushing and staying focused.