by Sarah Noffke
Lewis hugged himself, lightly swinging his body from side to side. “Makes me feel warm and fuzzy. How about you, lieutenant?”
She pointed to the door, not looking at all impressed. “You owe me a couple of martinis after this.”
Lewis stepped up close to the door to the backup server room, an anxious look on his face. The lights flickered overhead, making both he and Bailey pause.
“I thought you said the monster was asleep?” he said, his chin directed upward.
“Yes, the monster is still at rest,” Ricky Bobby confirmed. “However, the increased temperature in the server room is starting to compromise our computer systems.”
“So no more stalling, Detective Harlowe,” Bailey said, pointing at the door.
“Fine, I’m on it.”
Lewis opened the door to reveal the large server room beyond. Darkness overwhelmed most of the space, but lights of neon blues and crimson reds glowed from floor to ceiling on many of the large servers.
Lewis and Bailey stepped through together, both scanning the long room for the monster. The door shut behind them, making the pair swivel around.
I guess that’s a safety measure, Lewis thought, shaking his head.
Bailey took the lead, her shoulders hunched as she peered forward.
Steam rose off many of the servers. The blue and red lights were dimming. Neither were good signs; the servers would soon be fried.
Lewis swiped sweat off his brow before it could drip into his eyes. He felt like he was in a pressure cooker, his skin seeming to swell under his shirt, making his collar feel tight.
A sound like a helicopter starting up arose in the center of the room. Bailey tossed a cautious look at Lewis before shooting her gaze back at the drumming noise. Through the dark glowing with blue and reds, Lewis noticed a haze.
The soles of his shoes seemed to melt into the metal floor on his next step, sticking slightly in the heat. He peered forward at the strange mist in the middle of the room, trying to make out the shape. It was much larger than he would have expected. He had trouble determining where the monster began and where it ended.
The drumming intensified, and Lewis wanted to clap his hands to his ears. He resisted and, against his better judgement, took another step forward.
Overhead, the lights brightened, covering the long room in a soft glow. That has to be Ricky Bobby’s handiwork. The AI probably sensed that they couldn’t see shit between the steam and strange mist.
Lewis heard a gasp from behind him. He didn’t turn back, but rather pulled his chin up to see what had gotten Bailey’s attention. The top of the monster was starting to turn a gaseous black. Long tendrils billowed up from the top and sides of the organic mass as the color overtook the mist.
For a split second, Lewis thought he saw gears and motorized mechanisms inside the mist, but then it was covered in black.
He blinked, trying to focus. Taking a cautious step forward, he extended the cylinder that Hatch had given him. Now he understood—they needed a sample of this black gas, which probably contained the minerals mined by Phoenix Tech. But looking up at the strange cloud, with its beautifully formed tendrils that curved and unfurled in a rhythmic fashion, was the stuff of nightmares.
Lewis hesitated in his attempt to open the cylinder. How do I know that the monster is still at rest? How will I know if it’s trying to upload me?
The lights flickered overhead, momentarily casting them in total blackness. Lewis froze. Sucked in a breath. Braced himself to run.
When the lights were restored, they were only partial, and the monster was much closer than before. It had been roughly ten feet away, but now Lewis was staring into the stirring blackness. It resembled a massive storm cloud, but strange faces were taking shape in it and then quickly disappearing.
Lewis extended a shaking hand and inched forward. All he had to do was get a little closer, and he’d have the sample. Then we can get the hell out of here.
This monster wasn’t like any alien or pirate or psycho he’d ever encountered. This was a storm that erased lives, ate them up and spit them out in the land of the unknown.
Lewis was suddenly aware of the silence. The monster had stopped making the loud drumming sound.
His hand holding the cylinder shot back to his waist, shaking. A flash of bright lights shot through the inside of the monster like lightning in a stormcloud. A warning. An awakening.
“Lewis,” Bailey said in a hush at his back.
“Yeah, I know,” he whispered, his voice coarse. “It’s awake.”
“Two minutes,” she warned.
He nodded, but suddenly felt the strangest sensation, like he was floating without feet…or legs. He chanced a glance down to find his legs were caught in the mist.
“Less than two minutes,” Lewis amended as he reached out with the cylinder.
All he had to do was get a sample of the black gas. That was it. How hard can that be?
He reached out, and a black tendril wrapped around his forearm, snaking its way up to his bicep.
Bailey stepped up next to him, holding up the frequency disturber. The thing seemed to vibrate in her hands, like it was being sucked in by the monster. Her face was drenched in sweat, but she kept her hands wrapped around the device.
The lightning inside the monster dimmed, and the tendril unwrapped from around Lewis’s arm.
Lewis felt his mind come back to him, and only then did he remember the feeling of being teleported.
“Oh damn!” he yelled, and lunged forward, finding feet that he didn’t even remember having.
All at once, he took control of his body, scooping into the monster. When his hand made contact, he felt like he was plunging it into a pit of tar. For a moment, he was stuck and thought he’d never come out. Then the monster sucked him toward itself, and he lost his footing.
Again he felt lost. Where am I? What is this? Where am I going?
Lewis threw his weight backward like he was going to do a backflip, and a sharp pain screamed across his back as he landed hard on something. He scrambled, trying to remember where he was. As he turned around, he realized what he’d hit.
Bailey!
She lay motionless on the ground; he’d knocked her out when he’d fallen. Beside her hand, pieces of the frequency disturber lay in ruin.
Lewis turned back to see the monster swirling, the movement of the gas speaking of its intensity. Its tendrils reached out for them. The monster’s progress was slow, thanks to the heat, but still it kept moving forward.
Lewis spun around and grabbed Bailey’s form under her shoulders and legs, hoisting her up. He didn’t dare turn to check on the monster, though he could feel the cold, gaseous tendril nearing, trying to wrap around his neck.
He ran, his feet sticking to the floor, and the exit feeling too far away. He leaned forward, grunting as he sprinted.
It was only as he neared the exit that he turned back. The black monster was hovering in the center of the room, its tendrils reaching out, but not moving quite as quickly as the detective.
Ricky Bobby opened the door as Lewis approached, carrying Bailey, and Lewis didn’t stop until he had reached the next level. There, he lay her down and clutched the sample from the monster to his chest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Medical Center, Ricky Bobby, Tangki System
The blue laser scanned over Bailey’s body yet again, emitting the strange buzzing sound that made her jawbone vibrate.
“I’m done with the scan,” Ricky Bobby informed her.
Bailey sat up, blinking to focus her vision after staring up at the lights. She swung her legs over the side of the exam table and waited for the report.
“Again, your scan has come back normal,” Ricky Bobby reported. “All levels in your blood are within range, and there is no trauma to your bones or muscles.”
She pushed her hair off her shoulder. That doesn’t make sense. “What about my neural activity?”
“It’s completely
normal,” Ricky Bobby said at once.
Biting her lip, Bailey searched the empty medical area, like the answer to her conundrum was written on the walls. “I don’t understand why I passed out, though.”
“You did suffer a blunt force to the head when the detective fell on you,” Ricky Bobby said. “Is your concussion still bothering you? Your pain receptors don’t seem to be picking up on anything.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I appreciate you patching me up, I just don’t get why I got hurt.”
“May I offer an answer that, although obvious, I think you’ve overlooked?” Ricky Bobby asked.
Bailey looked up, hope in her eyes. “Yes, please.”
“You, Lieutenant Tennant, are human.”
Bailey deflated a bit. “Yeah, I know that.”
“When humans fall and hit their head, there are many outcomes; one being that they sometimes pass out from the force,” Ricky Bobby explained. “Coupled with heat exhaustion, having the wind knocked out of you—along with whatever else you were suffering while fighting the upload—is a completely reasonable cause of your loss of consciousness.”
Bailey slid off the examination table and trudged over to the medical cabinet that held various antidotes. “Yeah, well, I don’t like being so vulnerable.”
“Are you saying you want to be enhanced,” Ricky Bobby inferred.
Bailey sighed. “Of course I want a full enhancement. The stakes are higher, I should have it.”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Ricky Bobby asked.
He knew that she was going to say ‘yes,’ so asking her permission was sort of cute.
“Go ahead,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Accepting one’s limitations is important,” Ricky Bobby began. “Even soldiers who are fully enhanced, such as is the case with the captain and commander of this ship, have limitations. When they reach the end of their abilities, they are expected to rely on each other. So are you upset that you passed out, or that you had to be rescued?”
“I’m not a princess,” Bailey said in answer.
“I don’t believe that your lineage was in question,” the AI stated, a hint of humor in his voice.
Bailey picked through the drugs in the cabinet, which did everything from get rid of hangovers, to encourage bone growth. “I’ve never needed to be rescued,” she admitted. “Usually it’s me doing the rescuing.”
“You’ve never been on a mission of this caliber,” Ricky Bobby qualified in a sage tone. “It’s possible that your current assignment will challenge you in ways you’ve yet to experience.”
Bailey nodded stubbornly. Of course I’m not good at accepting help. When have I ever had to?
“When we realize our limitations,” Ricky Bobby continued, “we begin building new resources.”
“I think I know what you mean,” she said, hoping the AI wasn’t going to be more specific. It was fine with her if they had a conversation full of insinuations.
“I thought you might,” he said. “I think that in the future, you could benefit from a full enhancement. Until then, it would do you good to come to terms with your current status.”
“You mean ‘embrace it’,” Bailey said with a laugh.
“None of us are perfect. When we accept that, we begin to recognize our true gifts. You are quite the extraordinary soldier, I will admit. However, I suspect your pride might be inhibiting you from overcoming bigger challenges.”
Bailey turned around, resigning a little. “Yeah, I get it. ‘No man is an island’,” she said mostly to herself.
Lewis stood in the doorway, a curious look on his face. “ ‘And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee’.”
Bailey blinked in surprise, having thought she was alone with Ricky Bobby. “Oh, hey. Have you been there long?”
The detective was holding a sleeve of crackers in one hand and a buttery, round wafer in the other. Shaking his head, he said, “No, just stepped into the room to hear you quoting John Donne. What’s up next? Hemingway?”
Bailey laughed. “Hell no. None of us need an acute case of depression at the moment.”
“Good call,” Lewis said lightly, holding out the sleeve of crackers. “Are you hungry?”
Bailey was actually starving, not having eaten since…well, since they’d made a meal of peanuts and potato chips. “Thanks,” she said, taking the crackers.
“You’re welcome.” Lewis popped the whole cracker into his mouth, crumbs flecking off his lips. “I don’t miss real food yet, but I might soon.”
Bailey took a bite, savoring the rich, buttery taste. “Not me. I could survive on crackers and chips for eternity. Give me salt and crunch, or give me death.”
“And now we’ve graduated to Patrick Henry,” Lewis said, appearing amused. “I like that you took liberties with the poem.”
“Ha. Liberties.” Bailey stuffed two more crackers in her mouth.
“How did everything check out?” he asked, indicating the examination area.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Apparently only a mild concussion, which is now gone, thanks to Ricky Bobby.”
Lewis had brought her straight to the medical center, and waited until she woke up before leaving her in Ricky Bobby’s care. He’d then hurried off to give Hatch the prized monster sample. The one he and Bailey had risked their lives to obtain.
Watching him casually stroll back into the infirmary, eating a cracker, amused Bailey. She would have been irritated if he’d rushed back, thinking she needed help.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Sorry for falling on you and knocking you out.” Lewis nodded to the exit. “You ready to keep up the hunt for information?”
“Yeah, sitting around here is no good for me. And don’t worry about the injury,” Bailey said dismissively. She held up the crackers as they made their way out of the medical center. “Where did you find these? I didn’t see them in the pantry.”
Lewis pointed down the hallway. “Hatch had me retrieve some computer hardware from the Intelligence Center. I found the crackers sitting on a desk.”
“And you stole them,” Bailey teased.
“Yes, I stole them. Sue me. I figured they were going to go stale if I didn’t rescue them,” he said.
The two strode down the darkened corridor. Bailey ignored the low thumping noise coming from below, the image of the monster etched into her mind.
Never before had she seen something so ominous, but she didn’t think she could describe it accurately it if she had to. Its borders were undefined.
When she saw the monster, she’d felt an instant urge to walk toward it, yet as she got closer, the beast had disappeared. She realized, looking back, that it was because she was inside the storm. The monster was a tornado, spiraling with fragments of everything it had picked up, which flashed as the creature moved. The lightning was both alarming and beautiful. The creature was unlike anything she’d seen in the universe, and that made her simultaneously want to destroy it and preserve it forever.
“In here is where I found the crackers.” Lewis pointed to a large room Bailey had yet to inspect. “The Intelligence Center.”
“Great place to look for answers,” she said, taking another cracker and heading into the room filled with computers and large screens.
“I’m curious about why Starboards Corp wanted Ghost Squadron taken out,” Lewis mused, picking over the contents of a desk.
“Yeah. They obviously uploaded Phoenix Tech because they’d stolen the contents of the corporation’s mines. But there’s not an obvious answer for why they came after Ghost Squadron.”
Bailey took a seat behind the main workstation, which was covered in sticky notes. She ran her eyes over the compact handwriting on the papers, but she didn’t understand the complex code.
“Ricky Bobby,” she asked. “Whose desk was this?”
“That particular workstation belonged to Chester Wilkerson, considered by many to be the
‘master’ of the Dark Web,” Ricky Bobby answered.
“So a hacker, eh?” Lewis said, sorting through papers on the workstation behind Chester’s.
“Not just any hacker; one of the best, from the sound of it,” Bailey said, trying to piece together the significance of the notes around her. She spun around in the swivel chair, taking it all in.
“He was apparently a fan of sticky notes,” Lewis observed.
“Yes, Chester was a fan of the ‘old-school’ method of keeping notes,” Ricky Bobby said. “He often said that a modern mind needs old ways.”
“Interesting,” Bailey said, continuing to spin around in the chair, hoping it would clear her head.
“He also used to swivel in his chair for stress release purposes,” Ricky Bobby offered.
Bailey halted, catching Lewis’s eyes. They both wore haunted expressions. Bailey pushed up out of the seat, looking back at it with hesitation.
“Why don’t you come sit here and channel this person,” Lewis suggested, pointing at the workstation nearest him.
“That particular workstation belongs to Chester Wilkerson, considered by many to be the “master” of the Dark Web,” Ricky Bobby answered.
“So a hacker, eh?” Lewis said, sorting through papers on the workstation behind Chester’s.
“Not just any hacker; one of the best, from the sound of it,” Bailey said, trying to piece together the significance of the notes around her. She spun around in the swivel chair, taking it all in.
“He was apparently a fan of sticky notes,” Lewis observed.
“Yes, Chester is a fan of the “old-school” method of keeping notes,” Ricky Bobby said. “He often says that a modern mind needs old ways.”
Lewis drummed his fingers against his lip, thinking. “So two great minds.”
Bailey shook her head. “Not just great minds.”
“No, the supreme sources in their fields,” Lewis agreed.
“Maybe that’s what Solomon Vance is after,” Bailey considered. “He wants the greatest minds for his database.”
“I can confirm that some of the brightest minds could be found here on Ricky Bobby,” Jack said from the doorway.
