The Ascension Myth Box Set

by Ell Leigh Clark

  Paige nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay.” He let go of Maya’s shoulders. They firmed up their plan and how he would communicate, and within a matter of minutes, Paige and Maya were trotting quietly back down the stairs in silence, watching carefully all around them for any signs of being followed.

  Chapter 11

  Level 40, Sim-deck 25, Glom Space station, Kirox Quadrant

  The two suited Leath jogged heavily down the steps from the church, looking around to make sure they weren’t being noticed. They exchanged a furtive glance and headed off to the right, away from the main drag and off into the undergrowth of the unkempt graveyard.

  As they approached the rest of their team, they started to relax. Their boss, Ak’or, appeared from behind a large tombstone. He was smoking a beamy. He took the last puff as he saw them coming and then tossed the butt of it into the grass. “Well?” he grunted expectantly, looking them both up and down with a look of casual disdain.

  “All good, boss,” the first Leath reported.

  “Yeah, all good,” his partner confirmed.

  “Signs of weapons?” the boss asked.

  The first guy shook his head. “Nothing big, boss. The ‘borgs are probably packing under their jackets, but we can take them out. No problem.” He punched his large fist into his other hand with a thud. His heavy jaw jutted out, making him look even more aggressive than his large build and bushy, overhanging eyebrows already did.

  He glanced at the rest of his team unpacking their gear in the clearing of the simulated graveyard. Everything had to come on board through metal detectors, which meant that they were using carbon weapons which needed to be assembled. This was the only reason why they were setting up now and not sitting around, smoking and chewing the fat.

  His gaze shifted nervously back to his boss. “Anything else you want us to do, boss?” he asked.

  The commander’s eyes looked dark with impulses of revenge. “No,” he grunted roughly. “Just get set up. We’ll move as soon as this ridiculous fiasco is over.”

  The flunkies nodded and moved off to join their buddies to prepare.

  Meanwhile, a matter of yards away on the other side of the church, a group of five Noel-ni were doing the same thing. Having broken into the sim-deck from the upper floor and lowered themselves down on thin but intensely strong cable threads, they now assembled, quietly loading up their revolving tommy guns, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack.

  Each wore their traditional dress of a metal tunic that covered their humanoid torso. It was a matter of honor. This meant they had to stay agile and out of the way of any bullets, simply because they had so much exposed fur.

  Brian, their leader, quietly barked the orders to the others. He pushed his damp nose in the air, sniffing the atmosphere for clues of who might be on the inside of the sim structure.

  Being the pack leader, they were compelled to fall in line, regardless of their own thoughts or impulses. Barry, the second in command, paced on all fours, agitated and awaiting the go signal. Diana watched him, bemused.

  Hangar Deck, Gaitune-67

  Paige was the first to hop out of the pod, closely followed by Maya.

  “So, what’s our next move?” Maya asked, automatically putting her hand on Paige’s shoulder as she jumped down.

  Paige grabbed her bag from the floor of the hovering pod. “I’m not entirely sure. It feels like we could do with some help from Oz in hacking the services at Info Corp. And the Northern Clan folks.”

  Maya pulled a face. “Yep. We’re kinda screwed when Molly isn’t about. Though…”

  Paige had started walking across the hangar deck to the safehouse stairs. She turned back when she heard Maya hesitate. “What?”

  “We have Bourne,” Maya said slowly.

  Paige pulled her lips to one side of her face. “Does he even know how to hack? And can he do it without setting off any alarms, or having it traced back to us?”

  Maya opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by a voice in her audio implant. It was Bourne’s simulated voice. “Yeah, I can. You seem to be forgetting I escaped a military base when I was barely a few days old. And now, I’ve got all this intel on how the world works.”

  Maya was about to correct him and remind him that he was in fact rescued, but Paige shook her head, stopping her. “Oh, you’ve been studying?” Paige asked instead. She grinned at Maya, and they kept walking toward the safehouse.

  “I have,” Bourne boasted. “I watched a whole bunch of Mission Impossible, James Bond, Mr. Robot, and Chuck. I can do this.”

  Paige and Maya exchanged nervous glances.

  Maya waved her hand casually, allowing Paige to continue with a response, glad now she hadn’t gotten herself embroiled in the conversation with him.

  Paige stumbled over her words. “Erm… right. This is totally awesome of you to volunteer, Bourne. Really appreciated. But… I’m thinking maybe we should wait until Molly gets back.” She hesitated. “Just in case, you know, it’s the wrong move and she wants us to… er, try another angle or something.”

  Bourne seemed perfectly relaxed about the response. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just know, I’m ready to go at a moment’s notice. I was Bourne ready!” he added enthusiastically.

  Maya stopped walking and creased over, laughing silently. Paige rolled her eyes and leaned closer to whisper to Maya. “I blame the parents!”

  Maya shook her head, mimicking Paige’s tone. “He’s a product of a misguided youth culture.”

  The pair sniggered quietly, careful not to be heard over the inbuilt intercom in their holos, which Bourne must have been tapped into.

  “Okay, cool,” Paige managed to say in a composed voice loudly so that Bourne would hear. “Thanks, Bourne. I appreciate it. We’ll keep you posted.”

  Then she turned to Maya as they headed up the stairs. “Let’s see what else we can do in terms of managing this health and safety issue. I’m thinking if we can get ahead of the points they’ll be investigating, then we’ll have a chance. If they can’t find anything to shut us down for…”

  “Then they can’t shut us down,” Maya finished.

  “Exactly.”

  The pair strode through the door to the demon door corridor. “Okay,” Maya agreed, pulling up another holoscreen and linking into the base’s extended network as she walked. “I’ll see if I can find a list of their inspection criteria.”

  Paige nodded. “Cool. Meet you in the base conference room shortly.”

  Level 40, Sim-deck 25, Glom Space station, Kirox Quadrant

  Having docked as close as they could to the sim-deck, the team headed down another docking corridor to find that the floor opened into what could only be described as an outdoor simulation.

  The team traipsed into the third sim-deck they had examined since they docked.

  How many others are there to check after this? Molly asked Oz mentally.

  There are only another two that are running simulations right now. All the others are powered down.

  Out of nearly a hundred of them? Odd they have all this unused capacity.

  They probably get busier when there are gatherings happening. Or in the evenings.

  I never did get that.

  What? Their business model?

  No. Evenings. I mean, on a space station, there’s no night and day. Why bother?

  Circadian rhythm? It’s how most species operate.

  No. But what keeps us doing it? Habit? Health? Why do we naturally save the drinking and partying until after a certain time, which on a space station is completely arbitrary.

  Are you being derisive about your species’ tendency to have an agreed social protocol related to time, which you all seem to abide by?

  I guess I am.

  Sometimes, I wonder who is more of the outsider: you or me. At least I try to fit in with cultural norms… now that I’m aware of them.

  Ha! You trying to o
ut-human me?

  Maybe.

  Hmm, something to prove, my inorganic friend?

  “I can’t believe this is real,” Brock gasped, looking up at the simulated sky and trees and interrupting Molly’s train of thought.

  “Well, it’s not,” Crash pointed out dryly. “That’s the point. You think those are trees? They’re not. It’s just your brain is being messed with by electromagnetic signals to make you think those are trees and sounds and birds and shit.”

  “Beats the seedy simulated bars and brothels we’ve just gatecrashed,” Joel remarked, readjusting the blaster on his back as he glanced sideways at Crash. “Anyway, how come you know so much about this?”

  Crash appeared suddenly flustered. “I erm… I used to come to a place like this. For fun.”

  Pieter glanced at Joel, who was also regarding Crash suspiciously. “Right then,” Joel said, clearing his throat and changing the subject. “Despite this appearance of country lanes and fields, the plan of the physical place says we need to head in that direction and that there will be a building up ahead. That’s where Sean is probably being held, according to Oz’s interpretation of the layout.”

  Brock snorted as he checked his blaster and repositioned the bandolier of grenades he had around his torso. “Well, I’ll take that with a pinch of salt. Seems Oz is just guessing right now.”

  “To be fair, he had nothing other than the layout to go off,” Crash muttered to Brock, still recovering from the embarrassment of his confession. “Give the guy a break, eh? It’s not like Sean is wearing a tracker.”

  Pieter closed the holoscreen he had been fiddling with, despite holding a pistol rather awkwardly in his other hand. “Yeah. No connection with his holo. The captors may have ditched it. Or turned it off.”

  “Oh, woah, check that out!” Joel called to the whole group. They looked up to see the simulated road they were walking on open up to display a church.

  “That’s it!” Brock exclaimed. His face turned from one of delight at seeing the quaint building, to one of determination. “Let’s go get those helvitis!”

  Molly quickened her stride to catch up to the group. “Slow down, guys. We need a plan of approach. Who knows what we’ll be walking into?”

  The guys slowed their pace and turned to her for instructions. Jack had been casing the outer perimeter from a wide angle and quietly jogged up and joined them. “We’ve got company,” she told them. “Just saw two meatheads come out of the front of the building.”

  Molly thought for a moment.

  Oz? Any way to get a read on how many bodies are in the sim deck?

  Afraid not. There are no heat sensors. And this was booked for a group event so people can come and go without registering for bandwidth.

  Shit.

  “Okay, so that’s two that we know of,” she clarified for the team. “No way of knowing how many others might be around, so we need to play this carefully.”

  Jack shifted her blaster on her hip. She too was loaded up on ammo and weapons. Enough to take out a platoon of Federation grunts singlehandedly, Joel thought as he noticed how she wasn’t even out of breath from her brief reconnaissance mission.

  “Okay,” Molly said, opening her holo and drawing out a map of the terrain she could see ahead of them. “Here’s the building. Here’s the front. This is where those two goons came out.” She glanced at Jack. “Which direction did they go?”

  “They went off in this direction,” Jack explained, pointing on the diagram and drawing in a line with her finger. “But I dunno if there’s another building over there or what. There was some cover… bushes and stuff.”

  “Okay, anything else? Any other doors?”

  Jack shook her head. “Not that I saw. I didn’t go all the way around. I’d find it hard to believe they simulated it with just one entryway.”

  “Unless,” Joel interjected, “they designed it to be a holding cell.”

  Molly clicked her fingers. “Good point.” She shook her head. “This world… it’s just nuts. That someone could simulate a holding cell out of brainwaves that would potentially keep someone trapped… incredible!”

  Pieter nodded enthusiastically and started to interject.

  Jack coughed. “Maybe we should marvel later and ‘mission’ now?”

  “Right,” Molly agreed. “So, I guess we can just all go in the front door then. Although Jack, do you think you could take care of those two that disappeared off that way? If they didn’t come back down this lane, they probably weren’t heading out of the sim.”

  Jack nodded. “Got it.”

  “Okay,” Molly said, straightening up and grabbing the blaster off her back. “Let’s lock and load.”

  She started striding out ahead of the group, closely followed by Brock, Crash, and Joel.

  Pieter scurried after them, bringing up the rear, and Jack stalked back off into the undergrowth to take care of the two bogies who had already revealed themselves.

  * * *

  Joel and Crash took the lead and strode up the steps to the huge wooden doors of the apparent church.

  “Go on three,” Joel mouthed to Crash. “One, two, three!”

  Crash and Joel barged through the doors, quickly followed by Pieter and Molly. Guns poised, ready to fire on anything that moved.

  Only then did they realize that there had been a hubbub of activity behind the doors, which suddenly silenced when they burst through.

  “Oh crap,” Joel muttered, lowering his weapon slowly, distracted by the scene ahead of them.

  “Holy mongoose,” Molly murmured.

  Oz started laughing hysterically in Molly’s head, tingling her spine annoyingly.

  Oz, stop. For fuck’s sake.

  Molly looked out at the hundreds of faces turned in their direction, sitting in the sea of pews, dressed to the nines.

  “Bride or groom?” a gruff-looking, suit-wearing cyborg asked them politely.

  Brock slapped his leg several times, doubling over, laughing silently, and unable to respond.

  Joel pushed past Crash and Brock to talk to the cyborg. “Sorry, what?”

  “Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?” the usher clarified.

  Joel’s mouth hung agape. His eyes surveyed the faces that were still watching in rapt interest at the bizarre party that had just arrived, armed to the teeth.

  Molly folded up her blaster and started to stow it away in the foyer. Crash followed suit, followed quickly by Pieter. Just at that moment, Jack came bounding in, blaster primed, ready to fire.

  She stopped in her tracks.

  Molly nodded at her folded-up blaster in the cloakroom area of the entranceway, pushed up against the coats. Jack looked completely confused and then powered hers down too and did the same.

  Joel, meanwhile, had found his words. “I’m sorry I…” Then he spotted Sean down at the front of the church. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Sean?”

  “The groom, then,” the usher confirmed, making a cunning deduction. “This way.” He signaled to the right-hand side and indicated that the party should follow.

  Brock managed to pick himself up off the floor where he had been recovering from his quiet laughing fit. Quickly, and still grinning, he started taking the grenades off his sash and putting them into pockets out of sight.

  The cyborg usher showed them to a half-empty pew. Joel filed in first, followed by Molly, then Jack, Pieter, Crash, and finally Brock.

  An old lady sat on the back bench on the bride’s side. She appeared astounded and very interested in the bizarre newcomers. She caught Brock’s eye as he sheepishly disarmed himself. He winked at her and continued grinning.

  The rest of the congregation had restarted their chatter, and apart from the odd glance in their direction, Molly’s team was mostly forgotten again.

  Joel was looking around, trying to gather more clues as to what was going on. He saw Sean loitering around the front
of the church, talking to people who approached him, shaking his hand and wishing him well.

  “Sean’s getting married?” he whispered in disbelief. “Is this real? Who’s he marrying, even?”

  Molly stood up. “I’m going to find out.” She clambered over his long legs blocking her path to the other end of the row and then pushed her way past the other guests filling the pew. She staggered out onto the outer aisle.

  Joel’s gaze followed her. “Be careful,” he hissed, still not entirely sure they should be putting their weapons away.

  She flapped her arm at him in a manner that she obviously thought was discreet and strode off to the front.

  Chapter 12

  Level 40, Sim-deck 25, Glom Space station, Kirox Quadrant

  Molly strode down the side of the church, keeping her head down and trying to attract as little attention as possible.

  She felt eyes all over her, watching her every move. Scrutinizing her. She did her best to ignore the attention. At least people were talking amongst themselves. Even if it was about the strange party who were probably gatecrashing the event.

  Molly found her way to the front where Sean was waiting nervously. He turned to look at her. His expression of social discomfort turned to one of shock: like a child who had been caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

  Molly’s expression was now blank. She just stared at him in his full wedding outfit, stunned.

  “I… Molly,” he said, reaching out to touch her.

  She took half a step back. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  Sean composed himself. “Yeah. Erm... This way.” He motioned toward a door a few yards back from where she had come and then led her in. It was clearly the groom’s dressing room. There were discarded clothing packets and hangers hanging on bits of church furniture. On the dresser, there was a bottle of Yollin Brandy and a few empty glasses. Her eyes clocked them and then turned to interrogate Sean.

  “What the hell, Royale?” she blurted out, her composure evaporating in an instant.

  He looked flustered. “Well, yeah. Would you believe me if I told you that it’s not what it looks like?” He scratched the back of his head, pulling his suit into an awkward shape around his torso.