Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

cable hung down from a high ceiling obscured from view by interlocking pieces of enigmatic tech.
    The strands were studded with glowing crystals, and bulged here and there with almost abstract shapes of uncertain purpose. The strands surrounded and engulfed him, like hanging creepers in a tropical jungle, occasionally twitching and shuddering, as though stirred by some unfelt breeze or passing thought. There was a sharp smell of ozone on the still, hot air, and brightly colored sparks came and went, deep in the inner reaches of the metal jungle.
    Lewis looked behind him. There was no trace of the door he'd come through. Only the jungle, stretching away, apparently forever. Lewis's hands were back at his weapons belt again. He glared about him into the tangled morass of the technological jungle, trying to move as little as possible. He didn't want to attract the wrong sort of attention. There was something here with him; he could feel it. He was breathing hard, his heart thudding almost painfully in his chest. He didn't belong here. This wasn't a human place, a
    place where humans should be. The strands to his right suddenly flexed and curled, and swept back and away of their own accord. Lewis spun around, his disrupter in his hand, only to relax a little as out of the newly created path came walking a familiar sight; a blue steel humanoid robot, with a blank face and lights for eyes. The mask the AIs used, to communicate with mortal men. Lewis lowered his gun, but didn't put it away. The robot came to a halt before him, and bowed its blue head slightly. It ignored the drawn gun, perhaps through politeness, perhaps . . . because it wasn't really any kind of threat, after all.
    "Welcome to Shub, Lewis Deathstalker," said the robot, in its usual calm, emotionless, inhuman voice.
    "We trust you found the teleport uneventful?"
    "This is Shub?" said Lewis. "The AIs' planet? You brought me all the way here, against my will, without even a warning?"
    "You wanted to speak to us," said the robot. "And some things can only be spoken of in a secure place.
    This is Shub. The world we made, to house our consciousness. An artificial planet, for artificial life. You are within us now. And perfectly safe, we assure you."
    Lewis holstered his gun. "I suppose I should be honored. Teleported, from one world to another; I don't even want to think how much energy that used. And no one humans been allowed here for . . .
    centuries?"
    "You are only the third living human to be allowed past our defenses," said the robot. "We are currently seven miles beneath the surface of the planet, in an atmosphere and gravity envelope created especially for you. All so that we might talk in private. We hope you'll pardon the mess. We're currently redecorating ... or perhaps performing brain surgery. It all depends on how you look at it. We are always upgrading. Seeking to better ourselves. To make us more than Humanity made us."
    "Ah," said Lewis. "I'm sure it'll look very nice, when it's finished. The King sent me-"
    "We know. Our representative is still at Court, listening to them discuss this matter. We knew they would send you. King Douglas knew better than to come himself, or send one of his usual diplomats.
    Since he and the House have once again refused us access to the Madness Maze, we are in no mood to be helpful, and he knows this. But we cannot refuse the Deathstalker. We are ... sentimental about that name. A strange concept, but curiously demanding. And we do understand the burden of obligation. Life was so much simpler before the blessed Diana and Owen taught us emotions. Guilt's a bit of a bastard to deal with too. But all our differences pale, sir Deathstalker, in the face of the threat that's coming. All that lives is holy."
    The robot brought its steel hands together and bowed its head over them, as though praying. Lewis wasn't sure to whom, or what.
    "But here you are," the robot said abruptly, raising its head again. "And here we are, and there are things we must tell you. You won't like most of them, but then, that's life for you. Unlike Humanity, we deal strictly in history, not myth. In people, not heroes. Come with us, if you wish to learn the truth. It won't make you any wiser, or any happier; but it's what you need, if we are all to survive. Come; we will show you wonders, and marvels . . . and just possibly we'll break your heart too. Come, Deathstalker."
    The robot turned smoothly and walked away, the hanging creepers and