Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus)

by Robert McCarroll

  "Any information on where the nanoconstructor is in this room?"

  "File code is Five-C-Sixteen."

  Syd ignored the cultists poking around the shelving as he looked for a sign of the file codes. He found them on signs on each of the shelving units. Following the codes down the row, he found 5C16 on a cabinet at the far back of the room. The lock on the door was more of an impediment than the thin sheet steel of the door itself. Syd ripped the lock out and tossed it aside as the door swung open. On the top shelf was a clock with a silver skull set into the face. Syd ignored it and looked down. Removed from its housing, it reminded Syd of an oven without a door. It was a box with an open front and a jumble of components along the sides.

  Leaning the resonator against the next cabinet, Syd pulled the nanoconstructor out of the cabinet. A clunk against the side of his helmet made Syd pause. Turning his gaze, he found himself staring down the wide bore of a weapon. The fluted barrel was orbited by counter-rotating rings of metal and was connected by a thick cable to a pack whose straps were held in Rose's other hand. Darkness built within the barrel, spilling out in an aura of shadows.

  "Really?" Syd asked.

  "Motive Directives cannot be over-written, the efforts to that end have failed," Rose said.

  "Robots," Syd sighed.

  "Is that all you want to say before we find out what an Inversion Beamer does?" Rose asked.

  "Could you point that someplace else? I'm busy."

  "You sound oddly calm."

  "That's just because you're badly outnumbered."

  The cult leader clobbered Rose across the head with a device he'd grabbed off the shelf. The beam of darkness lanced past Syd's head, striking a cabinet. The cabinet peeled open, spilling its contents while the outer layer was crumpled into a small ball. Ducking under the barrel, Syd rammed his pauldron into Rose's midsection. The two toppled to the floor. As they landed, the beamer discharged again, striking the nanoconstructor. The box was ripped open, turning into a massed jumble of components.

  A green glow emanated from within the mess of parts. A few were drawn into the center, and re-emerged reformed. A trio of squat, stubbly, ill-formed limbs burst from the bottom of the mass and lifted it up. The nanoconstructor continued to re-shape itself into a twisted imitation of its previous incarnation. The green glow of its deconstruction matrix filled the wide, rectangular maw on the front of its form.

  Syd rolled aside as the nanoconstructor launched itself at him. Rose raised the Inversion Beamer, but the weapon and her arm disappeared down the maw of its deconstruction matrix. Landing atop the gynoid, the nanoconstructor began disassembling it, ripping chunks free in a manner that would be gruesome even if Rose didn't resemble a human woman. Using the new materials, it turned one of the limbs into a thick tail and the other two into stout legs.

  "Run!" Syd shouted at the cultists, snatching up the resonator. The cultists scrambled from the room as the nanoconstructor finished incorporating the new elements, Rose's optical sensors popped out of a flat turret atop its jumbled mess of a frame. Disgust crossed Syd's face as he realized how much those sensors had been made to resemble human eyes. The machine's gaze narrowed in on him. As it launched itself in his direction, Syd unleashed a cascade of azure lightning that arced off the cabinets and shelving units before coruscating along the nanoconstructor's hodge-podge frame.

  The air stank of ozone and the fire suppression system vented inert gases to extinguish what it took to be a raging inferno. Bolting away from Syd, the nanoconstructor loped down the next row of shelving. A beam of unlight spat from its maw and caused the door to crumple as it turned inside-out. Leaping over the mass of twisted metal, the nanoconstructor's claws tore rents in the carpet of the hallway where it landed. Syd ran, instinctively holding his breath against whatever fire suppressant agent was being used.

  He snagged the end of the nanoconstructor's tail before it could pounce on the cultists in the elevator. As the doors closed, Syd unleashed another dose of lightning into the machine, hearing the satisfying pop and sizzle of fried circuits. A green glow severed the tip of the tail and the nanoconstructor jumped through the thin sheet metal of the elevator door. The car had long since departed the floor, and it fell down the shaft. Lateral momentum carried it past the far edge of the descending elevator, and its green glow faded down the hoistway.

  Another elevator stopped at the fourteenth floor and its doors opened.

  "A safer conveyance might be in order," Kali said. "The route the target took is not advised for organics."

  "Thank you, Kali," Syd said, climbing into the offered elevator. As it descended, Syd heard rending metal and cries of panic. "What is the status of the cultists?" Syd asked.

  "They have exited onto the station level. No fatalities detected."

  The lift doors opened on the station level. The optical sensors perched atop the bulked-up form of the nanoconstructor spun as Syd stepped out. It had eaten the other elevator car and added the material to its structure. Even though it was now as big as Syd, it bolted, bounding through the station and out the portal to the real world. Syd ran after it, even as it paused to gulp down the lighting rig the cultists had set up.

  "What is this thing doing?" Syd asked.

  "I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate," Hephaestus said.

  "Our nanoconstructor is now ambulatory, and has gone on a high-iron diet."

  "This is not the outcome you were supposed to provide."

  "And Rose wasn't supposed to try to shoot me in the head either," Syd said.

  "Disable it," Hephaestus said.

  "I'm working on it."

  A tail slap slammed Syd into the tilework, sending glazed terracotta fragments raining down around him. Syd stood dazed as the nanoconstructor lope-slithered onto the trackway. Plying its deconstruction matrix against the tracks, it ended up shredding the ground underneath as well. Finding rebar, it gobbled away at that and continued burning through the strata around it. The ravaged ground simply gave way under it and it fell through a ragged, smoking hole. Syd groaned inwardly before lowering himself into the pit.

  Bored through bedrock, the chamber below was reinforced with concrete in some places and bare stone in others. Syd saw what looked like the start of a labyrinthine web of narrow tunnels. Syd wracked his brain for what Hephaestus had said might be below the deep line. Partially-excavated fallout shelters. Syd advanced into the gloom, the glow from his armor and the arcane resonator providing ample ambient light for the night vision in his helm. An aura of green showed down one of the tunnels, and Syd advanced towards it.

  The nanoconstructor was hopping around, gaze darting from side to side. Syd ran his mind through the possible methods for disabling it. The machine turned to face Syd, running the beams of its deconstruction matrix over the empty space in front of its maw like a cornered animal showing its teeth. Syd held out his left hand, propping up the spine of his grimoire. As he gathered the magical energy, the sound of footsteps reached his ears.

  "We will help you slay the Reforger Beast, Iron Conjurer," the cult leader cried. The device he aimed at the nanoconstructor held several cracked red crystals in a network of fine struts and brass wires. The stuttering, intermittent glow building within the device raised the hairs on Syd's neck.

  "No!" Syd called just before the device exploded.

  A wave of noxious energy cascaded out in an instant that was an eternity. The wavefront bore along shards of the shattered crystal, which themselves burst in smaller bubbles of energy. One of these struck Syd in the chestplate and enveloped him. As it did so, the world beyond became a smear of reckless light and riotous noise. The frenetic surge of activity faded as the energy dissipated.

  Syd stood in the same place, but it had changed.

  Carved into the rock were reliefs of an armored figure leading a train o
f supplicants and doing battle with a menagerie of mechanical beasts. After a moment of disbelief, Syd realized the pattern of the armor in the carvings was his. A few lumpy, fat candles burned in the corners of the space, and a curtain made of stitched-together rat pelts hung over the entrance. The floor had been carved down slightly, leaving him on a shallow platform in the center of the space. There was no way any of this could have been done quickly, and Syd groaned.

  "That was the Chronal Cannon, wasn't it?" he asked nobody. He got no response. Dread seeped into his chest as Syd wondered how long he'd been frozen in place. Stepping over to the curtain, he pushed aside the blanket of rat pelts and his heart sank. The partially-carved fallout shelter had become a squalid village. It still sat in an underground chamber, but simple curtains woven of hair or stitched together rat parts created small corners of privacy away from the commons. Wire cages for raising vast numbers of rats were crowded around tray ofter tray of fungal-growing media in which were rooted mushrooms not native to Earth. Composting vats made the air reek, and small garden plots clung to what little pools of electric lighting the settlement had.

  Pale, dirty faces stared up in awe as Syd stepped out of their shrine. The fabric draped about their almost emaciated frames was woven from whatever fibers they could get their hands on. The words 'Iron Conjurer' drifted off their stilled breaths as he stepped into the middle of the town.

  "You have awoken," a blonde girl said, wide-eyed. If Syd had to guess, she might have been around the age he'd been before attempting to break into Sterling Towers. Though less-than-optimal nutrition had muddied the waters a bit.

  "We are sorry!" a familiar, and equally unwelcome, voice said. The cult leader wore the same tabard, but it was threadbare and filth-stained. Rips had been crudely patched and it looked like a walking pestilence. His hair and beard were white and long, his face lined with age. He all but prostrated himself before Syd. "Please forgive us and lead us from this prison!" Discomfort writ across Syd's features as the rest of the ragged townsfolk followed suit.

  "How did you survive down here?" Syd asked.

  "The early times were tougher," the cult leader said. "But if we managed to corner the Reforger Beast, it would cough up a boon with which to barter its freedom. With these, our wits, and determination, we kept ourselves alive."

  "I see," Syd said.

  Walking past the crowd, Syd peered up the hole he'd climbed down to enter the chamber. There was darkness above, but that was no surprise. A crude pile of stones had been erected under the hole. Silently, the townsfolk moved in his wake and watched him climb the stones. They held their collective breaths as he approached the top, and let out a gasp as he moved into the upper chamber unscathed. Looking around, Syd saw the Deep Line Station much as they'd left it, save for the fact that the gate to Tower Zero was closed. His eyes snapped to the broken tilework where he'd been slammed into the wall. The mass of footprints in the dust were still fresh, free from the accumulation of years.

  Syd looked down the hole again. "I will lead you all away from here. Pack up what you do not wish to leave behind, but be mindful that you can only bring what you can carry." Beaming joy shot through the crowd. They scattered, eager to be ready and fearful of being left behind.

  He made sure his suit was set to transmit and not vocalize.

  "Do you copy?" Syd asked.

  "Where have you been for the past hour?" Hephaestus snapped.

  "So it's only been an hour?" Syd asked.

  "What?"

  "There was an... incident with a chronal device. I was unsure of how much time had passed for the rest of the world."

  "Well get your ass out of there, Kali's offline and the Fund won't take long to figure out someone broke in."

  "All right, I'm bringing a busload of guests with me."

  "What?"

  "The cultists have been living in an accelerated bubble of time for what looks like decades. I'm bringing them and their descendants with me. If you want to salvage something from this debacle, you may want to help."

  "Help how?"

  "We can stash them at the warehouse for the time being, but we could use transportation and a decent meal."

  "Why should we?"

  "Right now, I'm a religious figure to them. If we cultivate their gratitude, everyone is better off. If we betray them, then they can implicate me. I'd rather not have that happen."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  Part 1

  Without stops, it would be a fifteen-hour drive from New Port Arthur to Sandy Shore. Of course, we couldn’t skip rest stops and meals, especially with Nora along for the ride. Since our route took us across the middle of the barbecue belt, Dad decided a tour of slow-cooked hog was in order for the road trip. I think he was just trying to prolong the trip and delay actually leaving Nora at college. Dad looked like an older version of me, with salt-and-pepper hair that was edging closer to a uniform gray each year. He used to have dark hair, which he’d passed on to Nora and me. Donny had gotten Mom’s light brown hair instead. Why Donny and I had been dragged along on this journey was beyond me, but Dad had insisted.

  I’m not sure where Dad had borrowed the bright blue SUV from, but without it, there wouldn’t be enough room for all four of us and all the crap Nora was dragging along to school with her. For the most part, Dad drove. I was the backup driver. Donny only had his permit, and got too frazzled over the short span he drove. Nora didn’t even have that much. She could run faster than the car could drive, so she hadn’t bothered. The fact that vehicles also carried cargo and other people hadn’t occurred to her.

  It was a muggy, sun-drenched day in late summer. Inside the SUV, we had the air conditioner. The moment I stepped out, the air felt cloying, sticky, and furnace-hot. The sun was edging towards the horizon, and the cicadas had finally shut up as we headed into the third barbecue joint of the day. Normally, I wouldn’t have had an issue with the choice of fare, but this taste trek through an American culinary icon was bordering on overboard. The doors were held open with wooden wedges, and the aroma of slow-roasted pork filled my nostrils. Further west there’d be beef on the menu, but we were in the heart of hog country at the moment.

  Unsurprisingly, Nora was first in, and she found us a table that wasn’t otherwise occupied. The green and white gingham tablecloth reminded me of a mint candy. The menu was writ large across the wall, next to the prominent cooker. With two heavy meals already weighing down my gut, I looked for something that wasn’t going to further strain my digestive tract. Our placement under one of the ceiling fans made our table marginally cooler than the furnace blast from the wood-fired ovens, but not by a whole lot.

  “You four look lost,” a waitress in a blue checked shirt and jeans said. The casual knot in the fabric of her shirt that held the hem high was probably there to improve airflow rather than show off her midriff, though it accomplished both. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and a genuine smile showed off bright teeth. Her gaze flicked to my face, though I wasn’t going to fool myself into thinking it was for any reason other than the eyepatch. I pretended not to notice.

  “Not really,” Dad said, “Though we’re outside our usual stomping grounds.” Our Midwestern accents made the statement mostly redundant. We ordered a copious amount of sweet tea and a smaller dinner than we’d had lunch. Fortunately, Dad refrained from rambling about his barbecue tour. He’d made an embarrassing show of it at our last stop.

  “This trip is taking forever,” Nora said.

  “We’re only a few hours out,” Dad said.

  “It’ll be after midnight by then.”

  “But we’ll have made it.”

  “Just think,” Donny said, “In a few days you won’t have to put up with us until Thanksgiving.”

  “What makes you think I’m coming home for that?” Nora asked.

 
“If you expect me to keep contributing to tuition, you’re coming home for Thanksgiving,” Dad said. He spoke in that tone where you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. Nora tried to stare him down, but she had a pencil-thin build, and Dad’s day job was intimidating super-powered beings.

  “Fine, whatever.” She waved it off as our drinks arrived. I practically chugged mine just to replace what I’d sweated out since leaving the car. Dad paused as he caught sight of someone on my blind side. I turned to follow his gaze. Seated alone in the back corner was a heavyset Indian man. It was hard to judge exactly how big he was sitting down, but I estimated somewhere over six feet tall. His forest green work shirt had a name tag that read ‘Pran’.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to complain about Mister Kulkarni,” the waitress said. “He don’t bug nobody.”

  “I just mistook him for someone I knew,” Dad lied with a smile. Satisfied with the answer, the waitress laid out our plates and refilled our drinks before hurrying off to another table.