Prologue

Sometimes he wondered if there was ever an uglier planet than this one.

Below him, a muddy green orb spun lazily, adorned with leaden hazes of toxic gas. The vibrant blue of clean oceans, the luscious green of thriving vegetation, and even the rich brown of fertile soil were nowhere to be seen. In short, life had abandoned this place.

Despite this, thousands – maybe even millions – clung to existence, rummaging around in the trash, constantly on the lookout for the bare necessities to make it through the next day.

Was there any doubt that Deponia was the most pitiful planet in the entire universe?

Controller Ulysses scowled in disgust as the highboat carried him closer to the surface, and in the jumbled mess of trash and filth, he began to discern continents and rancid seas. How he longed for the day when he'd no longer need to set foot on these sad remnants of the past. Yet, the Controller knew that realizing this desire would require personal sacrifice.

He had volunteered for this task because no other resident of Elysium would deign to leave their refuge and return to their former home planet. This came as no surprise; Deponia's former upper class, the Elysians, were accustomed to a high standard of living. Who among them would be eager to leave their perfect white city, safely ensconced in orbit, to run around amidst the garbage of the surface in breathing masks and protective gear?

Nonetheless, a liaison between Deponia and Elysium was needed to oversee the workers on the planet and make the hard decisions necessary to preserve Elysium. For that, Controller Ulysses would return to the dirt as often as need be.

If only he knew what it was that Hermes had asked him to come and discuss.

After one last glance out of the viewport, Ulysses turned to make his way back to the highboat's control panel. His aide, Martus, seemed relieved when Ulysses took his place. At roughly sixty years, Martus was twice as old as Ulysses and anything but enthusiastic about being instructed to accompany the newly-minted controller by the Council of Elders. Martus had probably been preparing for retirement, but his military past made him obedient enough to postpone that.

Ulysses saved himself the effort of offering words of comfort. At least Martus wouldn't have to leave the highboat once it descended into the ruins of the once-proud metropolis Porta Fisco. Ulysses would have no such luck.

The highboat had been built to accommodate as many as possible during the evacuation of the upper class to Elysium, which made it an inefficient means of transport for only two people. Smaller lifeboats existed, but their guiding cables led to Ascension Stations elsewhere on the planet. It was at such stations that the evacuees had gathered, and it was the largest of these, Upper Ascension Station in Porta Fisco, that the highboat's cable led to. Given that Hermes' cloning facilities were close to the former metropolis, the highboat was the best choice for this trip despite its dimensions.

The clones were intended to build monorail tracks, making travel around the planet and its mountains of trash possible, but these ideas had yet to materialize.

Ulysses returned his focus to the controls until Martus finally announced their arrival and began the docking procedure.

The highboat's bulkhead slammed shut behind the Controller, cutting him even further off from Elysium's comfortable splendor. In contrast to the highboat, the Upper Ascension Station had been built with cold, straightforward functionality in mind. It towered above the deteriorating houses of Porta Fisco, with the highboat's cable stretching from its peak.

Ulysses stepped out of the lock onto the docking level: an open space near the top of Upper Ascension Station that once housed cargo of all kinds, ready to be stored or loaded. Now, however, it was barren enough that Ulysses could see the distant horizon, and just below that, the stagnant canyon-streets of Porta Fisco. He did not let his eyes wander for long; he hated the idea of happening upon the still-living remnants of those who had been left to rot.

Fortunately, Upper Ascension Station had been closed off from the city since the evacuation, and a contingent of Hermes' clones guarded all entries. "Project Organon" was what the old fogey had called them, and it was they whom Ulysses sought now. In the event of an emergency, Ulysses could contact Martus using his helmet's interface, but judging by the content of Hermes' message, such a precaution was hardly necessary. The Organon would ensure his safety.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when a plasma rifle bolt struck the ground near his foot. Ulysses whirled towards the source and caught sight of two men, wearing helmets like his own, at the gateway to the elevator.

"You damned fools! What were you thinking?" he demanded.

The pair exchanged a look but made no move to lower their rifles. "Nobody may enter the station," one of them offered, an almost helpful tone in his voice.

"But that doesn't mean me, you idiots! I am Controller Ulysses of Elysium, here at the request of Hermes!"

"Oh."

Ulysses clenched his fists and fought the urge to draw his own weapon and decommission these two. If he did that, however, he would have to make his own way through the city – though, being permanently rid of these fools was becoming more attractive by the second. "What now? Will you put down those weapons and escort me to Hermes?"

"Right now?"

"If it isn't too much of a hassle to you gentlemen," snapped Ulysses, belatedly realizing that sarcasm was probably lost on them. "Of course right now, you airheads."

The Organon soldiers looked at each other for a while before finally shouldering their rifles and gesturing for Ulysses to follow them. As he entered the elevator, Ulysses was made keenly aware of how unimposing this duo really was. They were more than a head shorter than him and of much slighter stature. Apart from their helmets, they were clad in rags characteristic of Deponia. The Controller realized he would have to bring up with Hermes the abysmal quality of his troops.

Rickety and aging vehicle aside, the soldiers were at least competent enough to bring him unmolested to the city's edge where, overshadowed by taller buildings, an old waste-processing plant was situated. At the gates, several more helmeted, shabby figures awaited their chance to misunderstand Ulysses' presence and provoke his ire. Luckily, Hermes' himself was close by and prevented any bloodshed.

Waving his arms, the aging man shushed the Organons away and then turned to Ulysses, beaming. "Controller Ulysses, at last. I had expected you weeks ago. Months ago, to be honest. But never mind. You're finally here."

Ulysses, grateful for his helmet, could nonetheless barely keep from shying away in disgust when Hermes laid a hand on his shoulder and enthusiastically guided him into the facility. The older man may have been of similarly-privileged descent to the Controller, and may even have masterminded the plan to build Elysium and contain Deponia, but when it was time to leave, Hermes had chosen to stay. Ulysses did not wish to seem ungrateful, but life on the despoiled planet had left its indelible mark. Hermes' hair remained a deep black, untouched by white or gray, but it had become scarce and stringy. His skin had taken on a sickly, sallow tone, and Ulysses couldn't bring himself to look closely at the man's teeth.

Hermes seemed oblivious to the impression he had made on Ulysses. Overjoyed, he showed his guest to a paltry kitchen and dingy living room. Two crates had to be pushed aside so that the two men could enter a meager study where, on the tables and floor, stacks of handwritten notes fought for space with boxes full of cartridges. Ulysses angled for a lone chair amidst the chaos, hoping it would bear his weight, and settled down.

Hermes had to make do without anything to sit on, but he didn't seem to mind. "How is Argus?" he asked abruptly.

Ulysses frowned. "He's developing well, I'd say. He's a tough little fellow and rather clever."

Hermes beamed again. "He lives with you on Elysium, doesn't he?"

The lines in Ulysses' forehead deepened. He didn't know what Hermes was playing at, but it was already giving him a headache. "For the time being, yes, but I'm looking for a better alternative. I have my reputation to consider, and there's plenty of talk about where he came from as is. My fiancée Una isn't happy with the situation either."

Hermes' smile had faded, but Ulysses wasn't done. "But what I really can't wrap my mind around is the lack of quality in your Organons. I thought you said Argus was a prototype before you wanted to go into mass production. Yet those failures who served as my welcome committee at the Ascension Station can hardly be more sophisticated versions of him. He may be only three years old, but he could probably already handle these idiots."

"Well, uhm…" Hermes laughed in embarrassment. "To be quite honest, they are not fully developed yet. You see, the tasks the Organon are meant to handle demand quite a range of finely tuned skills. And, of course, they are supposed to be obedient and willing to lay down their lives in the service of Elysium without hesitation. It's almost impossible to get the formula perfect on the first try. My first priority was to make them resilient enough to survive on Deponia. I modified the clone servants you usually use as stand-ins for robots to handle emergencies, so I wouldn't have to start from scratch. They are neither tall nor muscular, but they are rather tough and wiry. I also took away their respect for life, so that they wouldn't have second thoughts about fulfilling their intended purpose." Hermes paused for a moment and fidgeted with his sleeves. "At least, I hope it works out that way. Argus was rather close to what I had imagined in many aspects, but when I reviewed his data, I realized that he was better suited as a leader than as a simple foot soldier. And his self-preservation instincts are rather strong. So, I started varying his genetic profile and tried –"

Ulysses leaped to his feet. "You created even more prototypes?!"

Hermes looked half embarrassed and half annoyed. "As I said, this was necessary. The current clones aren't stable enough, nor are they sophisticated enough in their abilities to do their duty. But whenever I made progress with the prototypes, I attempted to spread those improvements to the adult clones. However, without a prototype whose brain has matured from childhood through the process of growing up, I simply won't have the data to produce adult clones that fulfill our concept."

"Just to make sure I understand you correctly: you create prototypes as children, and wait until they grow up before beginning the Organon's mass production?" asked Ulysses. "How in the world are you going to meet the schedule? You do know that Elysium doesn't have forever."

"I'm perfectly aware of that. While I've been continually replacing adult clones with updated versions, it's not as if past iterations were totally incapable of performing useful tasks. They just need detailed instructions and a very patient overseer. As soon as I have a bit of time to spare, they can start working on blast towers and cruiser routes. Believe me, I've calculated everything and I'm confident that we will be ready in 20 to 25 years. Until then, Elysium's provisions will surely last as long as you adhere to my suggestions about recycling."

Ulysses sighed and dropped back into his chair. "It's going to be a close call. But, I trust you Hermes. Building Elysium was quite a wager too, and yet you managed to make that work."

"Thank you, controller."

"However, nothing we've discussed requires that I be here. So why did you request my presence?"

Hermes cleared his throat. "Well, as you can maybe imagine, it's getting a bit crowded down here and I really don't have the means to make the facilities child-proof…"

Ulysses interrupted him. "You kept all the prototypes?"

"Where else would I put them?"

"Why didn't you simply dispose of the failures?"

Hermes stared at him incredulously. "They are children! I assumed we would find adequate positions for them according to their strengths and specifications. Just as we agreed for Argus."

"And you thought I'd take in a bunch of brats in addition to Argus? On Elysium, perhaps? Are you mad?"

"But it's too dangerous for them down here! There have been various accidents. Prototypes B and F were… I was too late to save them…"

"I'd call that natural selection," Ulysses coolly replied. He would not let Hermes' sentimentalities get the better of him. "Don't forget, their intended purpose will require their deaths."

Hermes swallowed whatever else he'd been about to say. For a while, he remained still and thoughtful, until he finally said in a small voice, "At least allow me to show them to you."

Ulysses grimaced. He was tempted to curse Hermes along with this insane plan of his, but the Controller was only too aware of his reliance on the old coot. Maybe he could come up with a compromise that would satisfy them both. "All right, if it won't take too long."

Hermes nodded and gestured for Ulysses to follow, though his movements lacked the energy from when they had first arrived. The room that was their destination lay underground, partially concealed. The door was secured with several different locks, and Hermes smiled apologetically as he opened them. "Better to be safe than sorry. Some of them are already quite skilled when it comes to breaking out."

Ulysses followed him inside and found himself surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious boys dressed in rags. The oldest among them looked about three years old, while the youngest could not even crawl. Their faces were identical, but each one sported a different hair color.

Hermes smiled proudly. "I thought it would be a good idea to distinguish them by their hair. I've also given them designations according to the order in which they were designed. Not every design was immediately realized though. I developed the plans for C over there," he pointed at a green-haired toddler, "after B proved himself far too prone to take dangerous risks. But, I also had plenty of other ideas, so I postponed his production for a time. Sadly, I was correct about his unsuitability as a soldier. While he is far more guarded and analytical in his decision-making, he lacks the drive I wanted, to the point of being almost listless. Now, with G, I was –"

"Fascinating." Ulysses interrupted him with a voice that sounded anything but. He pushed aside some of the children. "I'll make you an offer. I'm prepared to take one, and only one. That's all I can accommodate on Elysium. Besides, it would be an extreme security risk to set more of this lot lose in the White City."

Hermes looked deeply unhappy at this pronouncement. "And you really cannot…"

"One or none."

"Well then, as you say." Hermes scanned the room. "D currently gives me the biggest headache. If you –"

"I'll take this one." Ulysses pointed at the green-haired boy Hermes had indicated before. The boy couldn't be more than a year old, and had spent the whole time sitting and staring at the two adults.

"Cletus? I mean, Prototype C? But he is the least troublesome of the whole bunch!"

"Which makes him the best candidate for Elysium, don't you think?"

"But that does nothing to solve my problem."

"I told you my terms, and you agreed."

Hermes stared at Ulysses for a moment, then turned around abruptly, went over to Prototype C, picked him up, and carried the toddler over to Ulysses. Hermes patted the boy's head when he handed him over, and Ulysses thought he might have seen tears welling up in Hermes' eyes. The old coot had always been a bit melodramatic.

"You mentioned a name?" asked Ulysses.

"Yes, I've started using names, according to their designations. This is Cletus, and over there we have…"

"All right. I'll see where I can house him." Ulysses hurried out of the room before Hermes could start another attempt to win him over. But, he noted with relief, the older man did not follow.

Ulysses found the exit without too much trouble, and the Organons were actually helpful during their escort back to Upper Ascension Station. They didn't seem bothered in the least that the Controller wasn't alone anymore. Ulysses sighed inwardly. He could only hope that Hermes would find the right mix for his prototypes soon. Even then, however, they would not be able to manage with Elysium supporting from a distance. He would need to supply the clones with better armor. A leader would also be required to guide them, and until Argus came of age, this task would probably fall to Ulysses.

He sighed and glanced at the green-haired tyke in his arms. The boy had started whining softly as soon as they had left the confines of the facility. This was going to be one of those days…

"Can't you get him to stop crying?"

Ulysses gave his fiancée a desperate look. "If I knew how to do that, I would have done so already." He put his helmet on a cabinet and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He spent the whole journey here making a fuss. I would have thought he'd be glad to get out of the dirt, but he simply cannot be satisfied. I can't remember Argus ever being like this."

Una swept her strawberry-blonde hair from her face and regarded the wailing child that had been deposited on her living room carpet. "Maybe he's hungry?"

"I already tried giving him something to eat, but he ignored me. He busied himself with examining my helmet for a while, but when I had to take it from him, he started up again."

That gave Una an idea. She hurried into her bedroom and returned a short time later with a fistful of combs, hair clips, and a small mirror. Ulysses watched her, totally bewildered, but as soon as Una placed these things in front of Cletus, the crying ceased. The mirror seemed especially entrancing, and as the young boy eyed himself Ulysses noticed, for the first time, a smile spread across his little face.

Una dropped into an armchair and gave a smile of her own – triumphant, but lacking any real mirth. "Well, now that that's settled, what were you thinking? Bringing him here just like that? First Argus, and now another kid? I thought you were serious about us, but you keep showing up here with children without so much as a word to me beforehand. I thought we wanted to have our own children one day."

Ulysses sighed. "Believe me; I really didn't plan this. And I'm not about to keep him here. As soon as I've cleaned up a bit and washed off Deponia's stench, I'll settle this affair. I have a number of friends who still owe me a favor, or whom I might be able to talk into taking him in."

Una frowned warily. "Let me guess: you want to go to Denesha?"

Ulysses suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "You have no reason to be jealous. Denesha is nothing but an old friend. Let me remind you, she is married to someone else. But, if it will make you feel better, give her a call and ask her to come here while I take my shower. Then you can be present as we discuss everything."

Una pursed her lips as she mulled this over. "Fine, okay. Try not to stay in the bathroom forever, though. I'd prefer to have all of this dealt with before Argus comes home. The house bot accompanied him to the Fun Zone so he can let off a bit of steam there instead of on our furniture."

Ulysses had guessed as much. The boy had a distinctive need for movement and stayed in excellent shape. He doubted that the younger prototype would ever measure up – but that wouldn't be his problem. Giving a nod to Una, he stood and hurried into the bathroom.

Getting rid of the grime that clung to everything on Deponia's surface, seeping into cracks and threatening to suffocate, was a wonderful feeling. Ulysses hadn't forgotten Una's plea for him to make haste, but now that he had warm, pure water streaming over him, he had trouble finding the willpower to stop. He surmised he had taken longer than originally planned, for as he returned to the living room clad in a fresh bathrobe, he found Denesha sitting on the couch, chatting with Una.

To his relief, he noticed Cletus sitting on Denesha's lap while she combed his green hair. The toddler seemed to enjoy the attention. "Whoever would give away such a sweet boy?" Denesha asked, and at that moment, Ulysses knew he had already won.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you that," he interjected. Both women focused on him, Una with an indignant frown, Denesha with a smile. Cletus seemed to immediately realize that he was no longer the center of attention, and responded by pulling at Denesha's collar until she went back to absentmindedly brushing his hair.

Ulysses returned the smile and sat in an empty armchair. "I'm so glad you were able to come here, Denesha. I assume that Una has already told you that we are seeking a nice home for little Cletus here."

"She did, but to be honest, she was quite vague about where this boy came from, and why he can't stay there."

"As I said, I'm not allowed to tell you much. I picked up the little one on a mission. Taking him back is out of the question, but he deserves a loving home."

Right on cue, Cletus placed a small, pale hand on one of Denesha's. Ulysses had to give it to him; the child had some talent at ingratiating himself. Denesha sighed and hugged Cletus tightly. "I should probably talk to Divius first… but we have plenty of space, and I'm sure Divius won't mind. He'll need papers however…"

"I'll take care of that," interrupted Ulysses. He could scarcely believe his luck, finding a solution so easily. "Believe me, he's a good boy. You won't regret this."

AN: Big thanks for my new beta reader RCButler who did a terrific job here!