Philippine Speculative Fiction (26 page)

Basiliso raised his right hand and lovingly touched Sofia’s cheek. “My dear,” he said. “Why are you crying? There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.” The hand
on her cheek felt gossamer thin, like a spray of fine mist from the ocean.

Vincent Michael Simbulan’s fiction has appeared in several volumes of the annual
Philippine Speculative Fiction
anthology,
The
Philippines Free Press, The Digest of Philippine Genre Stories,
as well as
The Farthest Shore
anthology and
The Best of Philippine Speculative Fiction 2005-2010.
He’s a
proud founding member of the LitCritters writing group, and has served as editor for
A Time for Dragons
from Anvil Fantasy, and co-editor of
Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume
5.

In his spare time, Vin enjoys tinkering with recipes in the kitchen and likes to slay monsters for loot in
Path of Exile,
an online Action
Roleplaying Game.

Lucia Pizarro (professor, Universidad de Salamanca)

I REMEMBER HIM well. He had an inquisitive mind. Always asking questions. But he never knew when to stop.

Well, what I mean is that eventually his questions led him to wonder about the reasoning behind the Divine Right of Conquest. He had a great interest in the activities conducted in our colonies.
He was also an avid scholar of the
Reconquista
, and spoke passionately against the brutalities that occurred during that period.

He once asked if we truly had a divine right to impose our views on other societies, particularly the primitive tribes that were native to the colonies. He questioned our inherent cultural
superiority, our right of rulership, and our divine mission to bring the light of religion to barbarians.

Yes, I did warn him. I told him he was on a dangerous course of thinking. And as far as I knew, he stopped asking. At least he stopped asking me. But—

Well, we had an
indio
servant at the time. You know how they transported some over from the Hinirang islands to serve various menial functions here. Alastor visited us on several
occasions and spent some time with her. At first, he said it was for research. I allowed it, but later, he seemed to have grown genuinely fond of her. I thought it was unusual, and somewhat
troubling, so I asked him to stop.

He did stop visiting her, but I suspected that they kept in touch for some time after. Eventually, I sold her off. She was too much trouble—hard to train, and very wilful.

The last time I saw him was on the evening of his graduation. My husband and I were invited to a celebration at the Roja estate. Alastor got involved in a heated discussion with my husband, one
which I was unable to prevent, I’m afraid to say. Fortunately, his father stepped in and defused the situation. Vizconde de Roja is a charming, but stern man. It did seem to me that there was
some tension between them.

No, he never mentioned anything specific, he never spoke ill of his father. But he never spoke fondly of him either.

What? Oh, he did have a few close friends, but he was never one to socialize. He was always very focused on his studies. There are some students that rise above the rest because they are driven
by a thirst for knowledge. Alastor was one of those. I always felt he was destined for greatness, that he would excel in whatever field he chose to focus on.

If what I heard is true, then it is sad that we lost such a brilliant mind. So much lost potential. As teachers, we try to mold minds and guide our students in their pursuit of knowledge. It is
part of my duty to create productive, informed, and law-abiding citizens for the Empire. However, with all my years of experience behind me, I will be the first to admit that we are not always
successful.

What is it they say? Great minds often have great problems with conformity.

Hector Ortiz (master cartographer)

I’M NOT ASHAMED to admit that Astor is—was—my good friend. I’ve known him since I was six years old.

We went to the same school. The only reason I could go there was because I had earned a scholarship.

If you’ve got any good friends, Inspector, then you would know that real friends will stand by you not just when you’re on top of the world, but more so when you’re ground
beneath its heel.

I come from a humble family, and it’s no secret that we struggled to make ends meet. He was from one of the wealthiest families in Madrid, but he and I became good friends. It didn’t
matter to him that I was poor.

No, I never felt he was ashamed of me, or that he pitied me for not being able to afford many of the things he could. It’s one of the things I admired most about him. He refused to let
status dictate his circle of friends.

Yes, he would often pay for me when we would go out. And no, I didn’t think he was trying to buy my friendship or loyalty. He already earned that when we first became friends.

Misguided? Heretical? That may be true. He always had controversial views. I think of him as a visionary. It’s another one of the things I admired most about him.

I know how that sounds, but it doesn’t mean I followed him like some lap dog. For one thing, I never agreed with his methods. I was very disappointed when word reached me about his
activities in the colonies. I am a loyal citizen of Hispancia. And yes, you can remain friends even if you don’t agree on everything. But this isn’t an inquiry into my views on
friendship, is it?

I’m currently the head of the cartographic division of the Royal Expeditionary Directorate.

Yes, I do have access to detailed maps of the colonies, including the Hinirang islands. It’s part of my remit to disseminate the maps and our analysis to interested public and private
institutions.

I’m sorry, but my memory fails me. I’m sure you understand that there are far too many requests that go through my office for copies of the maps. There’s no way for me to
remember where every map goes. I can present you with the logbook of requests, if necessary.

Yes, I stand by my statement that I had lost contact with him soon after we graduated from Salamanca and he entered the Ordo Mechanica. If you’re implying anything—

I have absolutely no idea. I don’t know where he—I don’t know where his body could be.

No, I refuse to say more. If you insist, I’ll need to see my
abogado de oficio
.

Vizconde Domingo de Roja (patriarch of House Roja)

I WOULD LIKE to start by thanking you for inviting me. As a loyal and respected member of the court, the last thing our House needs is to have our position undermined by a
wayward child.

I am aware of the situation. I was privy to the details of the
Machacar
incident. It pains me to hear about the terrible cost of that encounter.

Let me just add that House Roja has donated generously to the efforts of both the Church and Crown. It is our responsibility to bring the light of civilization to the barbarous islands of the
Pacific colonies. We have also begun many programs that—

No, I have had no contact with him since he left Madrid. I can also tell you that he has made no attempt to contact any other member of the family.

Do you have any children? Well, then you are blessed. You don’t know the disappointment I have been dealing with. I refuse to accept any blame for his failings. He made his choices.

Money? Consider it a father’s folly. When I bequeathed his inheritance to him, I thought it would be a new beginning, a chance for him to make something of himself. I thought he would
outgrow his foolish notions. Instead he chose to betray his country and squander the money I gave him by travelling to the outer colonies and causing no small amount of trouble.

Please do not give credence to lies perpetrated by those who seek to profit from my misfortune. I have publicly disowned him and denounced his activities. I cannot tell you how often our good
name has been unfairly dragged into reports of the assistance he provided to insurgents in the colonies.

Yes, I know you are not the kind of man who listens to such things. I do understand that you are doing your part to end this.

His body? Well, if you ever find it, you can keep it.

You have my gratitude as well, Inspector. I would prefer for this to be dealt with as swiftly and quietly as possible. I would consider your discretion a personal favor—one that I will
repay in kind, when the time comes. House Roja takes care of its friends.

Ysabel Rubia (Automatician of the Ordo Mechanica)

WE WERE BOTH initiates of the Ordo Mechanica in 1801. De Roja and I finished at the top of our class.

Reports of our rivalry are slightly exaggerated. It was more along the lines of driving each other to excel. Our field is fiercely competitive. Much like advancement in many other respected
professions, I imagine.

Romantic involvement? De Roja and I couldn’t stand each other! Outside of our work, we had nothing in common. He was far too idealistic, and naive. Maybe that would have changed if we had
shared a bed, but since that never happened—

Yes, we were assigned to the Prima Automata program. We continued our friendly rivalry in the year or so that he was with us. I was the head of the research division that explored increased
thermal efficiency for the steam engines, and metallurgical improvements for clockwork mechanisms.

I think he made a mistake when he chose to explore the use of phlogiston and the potential for organic materials in the construction of automata.

Why do I think it was a mistake? Let me put it simply so that you can grasp the ideas behind it. I mean no offense, of course, but the technicalities would no doubt bore you to tears.

Springs and gears, pinions and bearings that must run at a constant speed, all perfectly balanced—these are the things we must deal with for our automata to function. The delicate
apparatus of our war machines need strong, durable materials both within and without.

The hairspring assembly, for one, is usually made from the finest brass filaments. The reason we use brass is because it is a substitutional alloy—one which combines the properties of
copper and zinc to give it a low friction rating. This makes it ideal for maximizing the efficiency of our clockwork mechanisms.

De Roja planned to substitute organic materials, primarily wood, to replace the traditional metals and alloys we use. On top of that, he was fascinated by the use of phlogiston as a power source
and as a weapon. The notion of using combustible materials along with the volatility of phlogiston would be considered insane at best. He did make some progress with his research, but his files all
went missing when he left. As far as I was concerned, he wasted his time and our resources with his foolishness.

You can imagine my surprise when I was presented with a copy of the
Machacar
incident.

Gaspar de la Cuesta (master artificer, War Machine
Machacar
)

NO, WE WEREN’T scheduled to be on the field, but our airship was the one designated to that sector so we responded to the reports of insurgent activity. The
Fuego
is a war dirigible, so we were fully equipped to handle any threat posed by the
indios
.

Yes, of course I inspected the
Machacar
before it was loaded onto the
Fuego
. We had just finished our routine maintenance check before we departed from the airbase in
Guadalajara. I have the logs if you want to review—

No, it had never been in combat before. But it underwent the standard battlefield testing and was declared fit for service. It’s the standard
Taurus
-class war machine that’s
been in service since 1812. As part of the
Fuego’s
ground support complement, it’s more than capable of eliminating conventional troops as well as other combat automata.

What? Of course I’m upset! I don’t like what you’re implying, and yes, I take it personally. The
Machacar
was one of the best war machines I’ve ever handled. And
if you knew anything about the relationship between a war machine and its designated artificer, then you wouldn’t be surprised by my reaction.

We reached the drop zone just before dusk.
Machacar
led the way, while the rest of our soldiers followed close behind. I monitored their progress through the optics systems of the war
machine. After making some adjustments to the magnification of the Oculus, it immediately registered two things. One—the insurgents were led by none other than Alastor de Roja, a known indio
sympathizer we had been hunting for some time. The second, was—well—I can only describe it as an odd clockwork avian, a much smaller automata than the
Machacar
. Smaller and
faster, giving it a decisive advantage in the combat that followed.

Odd? Because it was made entirely of polished wood, carved with a precision I’d never encountered before. As it flew closer, I saw a series of coiled vines which I surmised acted as a
mainspring. It had layers of leaves for wings, allowing it to glide through the air. It was nothing like the lumbering juggernauts that our automata are in the battlefield. Because of that, I
misjudged the threat it posed.

I directed the
Machacar
to attack the massed natives. They scattered, so I was able to unleash a fusillade from the rear mounted cannon. I think that was the shot that killed Alastor de
Roja.

No, I can’t be sure. Our ground troops opened fire as well.

Our initial bombardment was a qualified success. The indios were in disarray, and our troops were able to capture several of them who were trying to reach Roja’s body. Then, the wooden
bird swooped down, evaded our countermeasures, and unleashed what I later learned was a new form of phlogiston bomb. It was not an incendiary device, but something that had a volatile, corrosive
reaction with both the outer and inner alloys of the
Machacar
. With one stroke, it reduced one of our finest war machines into a useless lump of rusted metal.