by Jason Kent
Lt. Julian swore and fired at the mech. She shouted, "YOU PIECE OF..."
Jonte fled, the Aether Source clutched tightly in his arms. Breathing hard, he told himself, "For the Tallinn people..."
Part 1
Torque
Chapter 1
Sparrow
52 years later...
Sparrow closed her eyes and tilted her head. Her glowing hands were pointed at the thick drive shaft spinning just under the grated deck beneath her feet. The shaft slowed then shuddered to a standstill. Emitting a tortured groan, it slowly began turning in the opposite direction. The drive train protested with violent vibrations which trembled through the airship's metal structure.
Sparrow ignored the bucking floor plates beneath the soles of her boots and turned her hands ever so slightly. She tweaked the output of her embedded magnetics and eliminated the vibrations. Sparrow locked her wrists as her commands flowed from her mind, through her circuitry, and finally to the titanic engine component. Like any piece of machinery, the drive shaft liked to do things one way; a way which did not involve stopping suddenly and being forced to shift into full reverse. Were the shaft sentient, it would know the forces acting upon it were simply...unnatural.
Smiling at the thought, Sparrow opened her eyes; silvery orbs comprised of whirring micro gears, layered lenses, and multi-wavelength high definition receptors. On her forehead, more embedded circuitry burned with a bright golden sheen across her left eye and back over her ear. She looked down at the shaft, now spinning under her command. The deck tilted underneath her, forcing Sparrow to brace herself as the airship maneuvered into a sharp turn. The tight radius would not normally be possible. But, seeing as how Sparrow had completely reversed the motion of the starboard propeller, it now pulled that side of the ship back while the port engine continued to push the ungainly vessel forward.
Dagger interrupted Sparrow, sticking her head down through the hatch leading from the engine room to the rest of the airship. Sparrow turned her inscrutable eyes up to study the pilot. Dagger was seething, but, to her credit, actually seemed to be counting to ten before yelling at Sparrow. The pilot's eyes narrowed as she took in the shaft spinning in the wrong direction. She focused on Sparrow's elfin form and outstretched arms.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Dagger shouted. She pointed with both hands and made a clockwise motion with her fingers to emphasize her point. "The freaking propellers are supposed to turn in the same direction!"
Sparrow considered her friend for a long moment. She understood the woman's frustration. They had been forced to commandeer the zeppelin they were flying. Unlike her starship, Blade Redeemed, Dagger could not fly the airship alone. She could not control everything from the relative comfort of the bridge. The starship Captain, turned dirigible pilot, needed someone down in the engine room. The systems were not automated to allow a single person to fly the craft and keep the fires stoked, gears lubed, and pressures regulated. No member of the team was better at fine-tuning the low-tech, but extremely complex engines as Sparrow, Link Sprite turned steam power expert. So, while Dagger got to enjoy the vistas spread out in front of the airship's brass-filled bridge, Sparrow was assigned to run the power plant in the bowels of the zeppelin.
"This..." Dagger went on, spinning her fingers in opposing motions, "is not very helpful!"
"As you wish," Sparrow called out. She dropped her arms. She gasped as her mental control over the drive shaft was instantly broken. When the Link Sprite was using her upgraded projectors as a means of remote manipulation, her link with the equipment became rooted deep in her mind. Sparrow's connection was as real as Dagger would have said her grip on the airship's massive wooden wheel felt while she piloted the vessel. Sparrow turned away as the drive shaft again ground to a halt then began to spin in its proscribed manner. She met Dagger's gaze with her silver eyes. Once, they had been a startling emerald color, but the upgrades had changed a lot of things within her lithe body. Sometimes Sparrow missed the sparkling green irises when she looked in the mirror. It still shocked her some mornings to see the micro-machinery and liquid metal there. But, as a Link Sprite, someone who voluntarily underwent upgrades enabling them to interface directly with any wireless network, she was not supposed to long for outdated 'versions' of herself. Easier said than done.
"You used the ship's communications tubes to tell me you were going to turn 'hard to starboard'," Sparrow remarked calmly.
"And?" Dagger said, not seeing the smaller woman's point.
"Didn't my actions contribute to your ability to make a 'hard turn'?"
"This beast," Dagger shot back as she banged on the reinforced door jamb, "can turn just fine without you completely reversing one of the engines!" She jabbed a finger at the machinery driving the huge shaft and added, "We can't go stripping the gearbox every time we need to move one way or another!"
The fact Dagger even had to use the term 'stripping the gearbox' reminded Sparrow how very far she was from home. Here they were, a Link Sprite with the ability to surf world-wide nets with her mind and the pilot of a jump drive starship, arguing about how to run a steam-powered airship.
"I assure you, that would be highly unlikely," Sparrow replied with a thin smile. She held out her left hand toward the heavy steel casing of the gearbox. Before Dagger could object, she was able to take multiple readings with her sensors and added, "Temperature and component stress-levels are all well within tolerances."
"Then why did the entire airship start bucking around like we'd hit a skyrake?!" Dagger growled.
"Sympathetic vibrations."
Dagger waited, but when Sparrow offered no further explanation, she simply threw up her hands and turned to leave. The pilot muttered harshly as she went, "Sympathetic vibrations my..." She slammed the hatch closed, cutting off her comment.
Sparrow watched her friend leave with her reflective gaze. Her new optics registered the hot patterns on the door frame left by Dagger's hands. Sparrow thought about her eyes as she looked down at her glowing palms. Neither her silver eyes nor the complex machinery in her palms and fingers had been a part of her original suite of implants. She'd voluntarily undergone surgery to become a Link Sprite. Most of the Sprite circuits had been grafted to her skull. Their golden glow showed through her skin on her forehead, back over her left ear and even under parts of her bleach-white hair. More grafts within her brain gave her the ability to talk to digital computer systems and even allowed part of her consciousness to flow through nets. The entire experience was exhilarating and addictive; a large percentage of 'jack-heads' ended up turning their brain to goo after getting lost within the digital world. Sparrow knew the risks going in and worked hard to maintain a balance between her real world and the seductive hyper-realism of virtual submersion. But all of that was before she embarked on the mission to find Knowl.
The Link Sprite's hands glowed many shades of colors from cool purples to warmer oranges to the nearly red-hot cores of the magnetic projectors. Even as she watched, the projectors cooled noticeably. She switched to standard color wavelengths and could feel the gears whir and grind as she focused on her hands and reconfigured her lenses. The glowing spirals of the upgrades in her palms were beautiful but it was not a pattern Sparrow would have chosen. The circuits visible on her forehead had been chosen to emulate a mother board, an outward sign of her mastery of the digital realm. In contrast, her hands glowed with concentric circles and twisting connections which all combined to form an unexpected organic tapestry. Sparrow rubbed her palms together.
What was the Link Sprite supposed to think about the bio-mechanical system which was now as much a part of her upgrades as the network interface gear in her head? Not to mention her machine-driven eyes and the other paraphernalia lodged in her brain to make everything work together? She had asked for none of the new machines. During their search for the Tree of Knowledge, Knowl had taken it upon himself to 'upgrade' Sparrow. As far as she or any of her friends could figure out, Knowl felt
the changes were essential for them to succeed in their mission. But, did the ends justify the means? Did the fact Sparrow was so much better equipped now to interface with the steam-driven, clockwork-obsessed worlds they now found themselves on, warrant the big tree's actions? Would she have voluntarily given up her green eyes for her new enhanced vision?
Sparrow looked down at the rapidly spinning shaft. She let the steady thrum of the couplings, gears, and pistons rise from the floor, through her boots, and up her legs until the propellers cutting through the cold air outside vibrated her teeth. Something occurred to Sparrow then. She did not just have sensors embedded on her skin, her entire body was now a super-tuned piece of precision instrumentation. She could not only cruise the digital world. Sparrow could completely control the analog world too.
Sparrow clenched her fists tightly. She felt like she'd gone back to square one.
After becoming a Sprite, Sparrow had to learn to control her implants. She'd spent hours jacked in, honing her new skills and abilities until they were as much a part of her as her hands and feet. The implants could certainly take her farther than her feet ever could. Sparrow remembered the first time her partner, Lieutenant Colonel Georges, needed her to insert a virus into an enemy computer system. She hadn't even broken a sweat as she navigated her opponent's digital defenses via the web from a hotel room twelve hundred kilometers away and then uploaded her special package. The program gave Georges the ability to switch off the rogue nation's ability to produce enriched plutonium with the press of a button.
But, who's pushing your buttons, Liana?
The question hung in Sparrow's mind. Before pursuing her first implants to become a Link Sprite, Sparrow had gone by her given name, Liana Colt. Since then, she preferred her Sprite moniker. Sparrow had changed and left Liana behind to become a bio-digital interface. Her brand new electro-mechanical upgrades were completely original augmentations and even she did not yet fully understand them. Who am I now? Sparrow wondered. Sparrow Mark Two? She snorted.
God help Ross if he ever started calling her that.
Sparrow held up her hands again and studied the swirling circuits glowing warmly just below her skin. Sparrow realized with a start that her abilities to interface with mechanical and clockwork devices truly made her a freak among humans. She was not entirely sure if she loved or despised the singular distinction.
Yes, Knowl had upgraded her without her permission. The big tree had managed to free himself and save his offspring by using Sparrow and her friends. But, had Knowl meant for her to do more with the gifts he'd given to her? Besides performing tricks with an airship's engines?
"What am I supposed to do now?" Sparrow asked the humming machinery. She looked down at the shaft, rotating rapidly under her feet. Why had she felt the need to test herself against the incredible momentum of the massive piece of steel? Sparrow realized she knew the answer. She grasped the cold railing and closed her eyes.
"I did it to find out if I could," Sparrow breathed. "To see how far I could push it." A shudder passed through her small body. Sparrow bit her lip and looked up at the metal frame of the compartment. How far would she go to explore the limits of her abilities? How soon would her exploration 'to see how far' she could go be replaced with the rationalization, 'because I can'?
"Knowl, you piece of tral!" Sparrow growled and turned to face the wall of brass dials, gauges and levers comprising the engineering control station. Her silver eyes and link implants gleamed back at her from a hundred shiny surfaces. She spoke in slow, measured tones, barely containing the sudden anger welling up inside. "What have you done to me, you big, all-seeing tree?! I was plenty happy as Sparrow, Link Sprite." And occasional spy. When she used her rare skillset alongside Georges on missions for the Stellar Union Marine Corps, Sparrow knew exactly what was expected of her. She knew her capabilities and her limitations. Now, she wasn't sure of any of those things.
True, exploring her new abilities was akin to the days with her original Sprite implants. But then, for the most part, she'd known exactly what to expect. There were plenty of other Link Sprites to talk to when she needed some advice. Even Kate, with all the changes she'd undergone to become a Watcher, had Tivon, Tarun, and the other archivists to go to for guidance as she explored her abilities and learned to commune with Nemus, Knowl's offshoot. Thanks to Knowl's meddling, Sparrow was now a unique being in all of the universe. She realized with a jolt, maybe this was how the ancient tree felt at times. She shook her head.
"Gonna need to figure this out on your own, kiddo," Sparrow muttered with a sigh.
Sparrow gripped the railing tighter. The metal had grown warm thanks to the circuitry burning in her hands. She pulled them away and stepped to the center of the engine room. The Sprite pointed her palms with their glowing implants at the hulking boiler. She ignored the temperature and pressure readings which flowed into the embedded sensory inputs and shouted, "What, precisely, am I supposed to do with all this stuff?"
The inanimate machinery had no reply for Sparrow. She turned in a circle and ran her hands over her hair. Facing the steaming boiler again, Sparrow sank to the vibrating deck. She balled her hands and pressed them against her eyes.
"Can anyone tell me who am I now?" Sparrow whispered.
Chapter 2
Arensburg Bazaar
"That it?" Ross asked a little too loudly.
Tivon sighed. Even the big man's quietest voice was loud enough to be heard above the bustle of the market place. She lowered her dark glasses just enough to get a better look at the artifact. Her eyes glowed brightly. She hoped if anyone saw her iridescent eyes, they would assume she had some sort of artificial vision graft. No one besides her companions needed to know her bright blue eyes were the result of her communion with the ancient being Knowl and his offspring, Nemus. Tivon had dedicated her life to serving the all-knowing entities. While working in The Archives, she could delve into the nearly limitless insights provided through Nemus. The outward sign of her connection, her glowing eyes, was strange enough that she and the others thought it best to conceal them. Even when that meant wearing sunglasses in the underground Arensburg Bazaar.
Tivon felt her heart race as she studied the artifact from outside the knick-knack shop. When she'd first caught a glimpse of the old clock during an earlier communion with Nemus, Tivon had dubbed it the 'Olympus Chronometer'. It was a fixture from the bridge of the Olympus, an early jump-ship. The Chronometer was thought lost, along with the Olympus itself. The jump-ship had disappeared on its second mission. Nothing of the crew or the ship was ever heard of again. Until now.
"Well, is it?" Ross pressed.
"Yes, Sergeant Ross," Tivon replied under her breath, trying to emulate an undercover agent. Although, she wasn't sure why she bothered. With Ross at her side, she might as well have been screaming, 'We're coming for your amazing clock!' Ross was a huge man, towering nearly a head above Tivon.
Ross was a member of the Stellar Union Marine Corps unit who'd shown up on Aesti, destroyed Knowl, and rescued Tivon and the other archivists from the Tallinn Republic. The marines had pledged to protect Kate, whom Knowl had recruited as a Watcher in order to ensure his seed was saved and his communion with the Tallinns was ended. Tivon had overheard Ross' unit went by the motto 'Black Death Delivered'. As far as she could tell, this pretty much summed up the missions Ross and his fellow marines were usually assigned. It also explained why the man was so far out of his element; browsing a colonial bazaar was nothing like storming one with guns blazing. While extremely proficient in a firefight, stealth was not his thing. Ross' height and stalking gait screamed 'military!' even more than his blonde buzz cut, recruitment-vid-worthy square jaw, and piercing blue eyes. That, and Ross insisted on carrying not one, but two automatic assault rifles with him at all times.
"So, do we just go in and snag the clock?" Ross asked. He was staring across the crowded corridor through the windows of the shop. The Chronometer was hanging on the back wall of the store
. A sign, with 'Not for Sale' neatly printed across it was centered under the clock. "Guess we can't just offer to buy it, huh?"
"I doubt he'll want to part with it," Tivon said with a grim smile. She looked up at the big marine. "That's why I brought you." As an archivist and servant to Nemus, Tivon did not generally condone violence. She'd witnessed enough death and destruction across this corner of the galaxy, both past and present, through Knowl and now Nemus. Tivon did not wish to be the perpetrator of any additional hurt, if it could be avoided.
"Where do you think he got it?" Ross wondered, his voice now surprisingly soft and reflective. "I mean, did he find the Olympus? Or did he just pick it up from someone else who may have salvaged the wreck out in deep space? Could the descendants of the crew still be alive?"
"Those are but a few of the questions I'd like to ask our shop keeper," Tivon said, feeling herself get even more excited. "This artifact creates a lot of questions." Tivon nodded to another man across the wide hall.
Master Sergeant Kelly Merrick nodded back. From the same SUMC unit as Ross, Merrick had stayed on with Kate and the others at The Archives after delivering the seed which became Nemus. Merrick was much shorter than his fellow marine sergeant, but was as solidly built as a fireplug. As Tivon watched, he adjusted the long rifle strapped to his back. The marine cast one more glance through the bakery windows. It was as if Merrick had reluctantly given up the idea of purchasing a delicacy and decided to move on. His next stop just happened to be the shop with the Olympus Chronometer.
Tivon shook her head slightly. Fortunately, the marines were not the only armed customers wandering the underground shops. It seemed as if every other person had at least a pistol strapped to their hip. Apparently, if one wanted security in the old tunnels beneath Arensburg, one needed to provide it for themselves. At least Merrick had seen fit to sling his sniper rifle across his back. It would not do to have him prowling the market with his SUMC-issued high powered rifle held at the ready. With its oversized scope, extended magazine, and long, silencer-equipped barrel, the big weapon was threatening enough strapped to the man's back.
