by Gorman, K.
She frowned, attention focusing on that static. Her fingers flexed, and a thrill went through her.
Then, she reached out, trying to touch that piece of static with her power.
For a moment, there was nothing. The Shadow rippled and shivered, its borders moving in a slight rocking and swelling pattern, like the slow ripple of wind on a calm harbor, or the burn of a candle in a silent room. The piece of electric charge twisted in her senses, danced.
Then, with a click, she felt herself connect.
The Shadow rocked and flinched, as if she’d physically touched it, then rippled higher, like a fire that had hit the wind. She felt its connection pass between her, felt the slip of surprise that it registered, the buzz of its mind.
And, beyond, the buzz of other minds like its.
Then, the Shadow began to fade.
It was gone within seconds, its fragile body slipping away to another dimension as easily as someone putting on a sock. From a physical standpoint, it looked as though it had simply shifted from view.
But, in her mind, she felt it leave. Felt how it turned to its home dimension and stepped in.
She stood, staring at the now empty corner, feeling the distinct rock and hum of the vessel flying through air.
Her hand still tingled from where they had connected.
Well, that was weird.
Your nose is bleeding again, Tia told her. It could probably use some treatment before you rest.
Karin huffed. Then, she did a partial turn, scanned the room, and strode over to the kitchenette. The tissue dispenser rattled as she ripped one out. She scrunched it up, rolled it into something resembling two marijuana joints, tilted her head back, and stuffed them up her nose.
That works.
“Thanks,” she replied, the words coming out clogged as if she had a cold, as she walked back over to the bunk and began to take her armor off. “I try. Just don’t let me bleed to death from my nose while I’m asleep.”
Roger that.
The remark earned Tia a half-smile. ‘Roger’ was a massively outdated radio term that had long gone out of use in modern communications, but one she loved to use specifically because it irritated her sister. As a pilot, she was more than well-enough versed in modern communications lingo.
“Good night, Tia.”
Have a good sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there.
Chapter Eight
Eva was five, skinny and long-legged, wearing thin, well-used flip-flops, pink shorts, and a Starcats Princess shirt, and this was not her first time in the jungle.
It was a big space for a little girl. The trees loomed thick and high above her, their canopies a semi-far rustle of leaves and animal chatter. An adult would have had trouble with the game trail―the deer around here were small, little things, and the boar about half her height but dense, and they kept more to the lowlands, anyway. She’d only seen them up here a handful of times.
The breeze lifted, and the sound of insects quieted as the canopy rustled with the swell. When it fell again, the insects picked back up.
She moved downslope at an angle, following the trail. When she got to the tree with the bent face in its rotting trunk and the ants running along the ground, she veered off. Her flip flops made crunching sounds against the old leaf litter.
Then, halfway down, she came to the ruins.
She’d found them a month ago. Five thick slabs of rock with drawings gouged into them, their forms almost overtaken by the jungle. One had been toppled over, the roots of a tree draped over its surface like wooden spaghetti noodles.
A doorway within them whispered at her mind.
She stopped. Hesitated. Through the trees, the tan walls of the compound glared down from the top of the hill, looming. Up above, she could hear some of the other kids playing.
They’d be looking for her, soon. She didn’t have much time.
She lifted her hand, pulled on her power, and walked into another world.
Chapter Nine
“You know that you talk in your sleep, right?”
“Really? What do I say?”
Karin rubbed at her eyes. Despite sleeping for nearly all of the eleven-hour transit―and then some―a heavy tether of exhaustion pulled at her. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, tinged with red according to the mirror in the last sani closet she’d visited.
The Courant had landed some twenty minutes ago, and it had taken that long to push herself out of bed, wake herself up in the sani, and shuffle her way into the halls. She had, at least, changed out of her armor before she slept this time―last time, she’d managed to skip that step. With her brain so tired and the damn thing so form hugging, she’d half-forgotten it was there.
But right now each step felt like she was dragging a weight behind her. Not that it was a heavy weight, given her new strength, but it felt like it took more mental effort.
Fortunately, her tired appearance seemed to have given her a boost in crew relations. The faces of techs and soldiers didn’t regard her with wariness, as they had yesterday.
Perhaps seeing her as haggard and pre-coffee as this reminded them that she was human.
Nomiki shrugged. “Weird shit, usually. This time, it sounded like you were talking to someone. You sat bolt upright.”
Karin picked her brain, trying to remember. She didn’t think she’d been dreaming. She directed a mental eyebrow-raise toward Tia, who had supposedly been monitoring her subroutines while she slept.
And they were fine, the scientist replied. You were in REM. I can’t help it if humans are fucking weird when they sleep.
Karin internally snorted. As opposed to you, who doesn’t sleep?
Precisely.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said aloud. “Did I say anything interesting?”
“Not sure. It was in a different language.” Nomiki’s eyebrows rose. “Sounded heated.”
Geez, just what had she been dreaming about?
She quirked another internal eyebrow at Tia. You sure you weren’t mucking about with anything?
I’m always mucking about with something.
She blew out a slow breath, trying not to let her irritation show.
Yes, it was always one thing or another. She’d assumed the ache in her muscles had been from the mission, but there was no sign of a bruise where the bullet had hit her armor―and the sleep had felt…intense.
Nomiki was watching her through one eye, keeping a monitor on her expression.
“It’s nothing,” Karin assured her. “Just my muscles getting bigger. And my brain getting faster.”
Nomiki snorted. “Uh huh. Sure thing. But if I see your head pull a three-sixty, I’ll be getting the Catholic Church involved.”
“Italy’s nice this time of year.” She had no idea what time of year it was for Italy at the moment, but it had been warm in Macedonia a couple weeks back, and that was close-ish. Right?
Ugh. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the map when she was flying out of Europe.
“Yeah, well, make sure you get checked out,” Nomiki said. “I worry about you.”
“Thanks, sis. I’m sure Takahashi’s waiting for me.”
“No doubt.”
A small silence passed between them as they continued up the hallway. Around them, a sense of restlessness hovered in the air, the ship crew still in the post-landing rush, but it felt like another underlying tension hung back. Nomiki didn’t look at her for a few minutes, instead keeping quiet and walking, her gaze darting around. A sign that she was thinking.
Eventually, they came to another intersection, and her sister pulled up short. “Well, this is my stop.”
Karin gave her a nod. “Don’t work too hard.”
But, instead of striding off like she expected her to do, Nomiki stayed where she was. Her expression faltered, a more serious, assessing look coming over her as she gave Karin a glance-over.
“Hey,” she said. “You’d tell me if something was up, right?”
Briefly, her mind
flitted back to Kalinsky earlier, and his suggestions about the Centauri. And to her concerns with Fallon’s missions. And Tia’s suspicions about what those missions were really accomplishing.
But Nomiki had already fought her on one of those things, and she’d rather wait until she had more information about the others.
“Of course I would,” she said.
“Good.” The corners of Nomiki’s mouth turned up, and some of the brightness reached her eyes. She gave a curt nod and walked off, heading to one of the flight offices.
Karin watched her go.
This feels wrong. I should tell her.
No, your instincts were right, Tia said. We should wait. This way, she has plausible deniability if we do something and the military questions her.
Her eyebrows arched upward. Oh? Just what are we planning?
Nothing yet. But I like to keep my options open. Oh, look, the good doctor’s waiting for us.
Karin glanced up. Sure enough, Takahashi was waiting for her by the ramp.
The air grew warmer as she headed to the exit, the mix of air conditioning mingling with the heat of the tropics. It was bright outside, the sun just hitting around one o’clock in the afternoon, and the compound was bustling. Beyond, the green, muggy scent of the jungle came to her, along with the tell-tale drone of its wildlife.
Takahashi gave her a quick glance-over as she approached. “You don’t look well.”
“Thanks,” she said flatly. “I’m getting that a lot. It’ll surprise you to know that I slept very well last night.”
“That’s not what your sister said,” he replied, turning to join her as she strode across the lot. “You’ve been talking in your sleep.”
Ah. Maybe Nomiki had been a little more concerned about Karin’s new somniloquy habit than she’d originally let on in the hallway.
“Apparently,” she said.
“These crates will do.” He gestured to a few pieces of stacked prefab to the side of one of the tents. “Please, have a seat.”
She popped herself down on the taller stack and leaned her head forward. A second later, the crown brushed into place over her scalp and gave a beep.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, the sensation of its prongs and electrodes making her skin crawl.
Breathe, Tia thought. Relax.
A minute later, the crown beeped again. Takahashi pulled it off and consulted his netlink.
“Still running hot,” he said. “I recommend we keep an eye on that. Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?”
“I’ve had at least sixteen hours of it out of the last forty-eight,” she replied.
He grunted. “Try for twenty, next time. These changes―they’re hard on your brain and body.”
“Sure.” Her netlink beeped. A message from Soo-jin. She skimmed it and pushed it back into her pocket. “Are we done?”
“Yes. You know where to find me.”
“Yep. By the braintank.”
Apart from their checkups, he’d been working almost non-stop to examine Tia’s brain and the Cradle setup―him and Tasuhada both.
“Thanks, Doctor,” she said, striding off.
“Take care of yourself, Karin. You’ll get through this.”
* * *
“These aren’t anything like the other ruins.” Soo-jin’s dreadlocks slid over her shoulder as she leaned forward, an expression of frustration ingrained in her near-permanent frown and the unhappy downturn of her mouth. “I mean―tell me I’m wrong?”
“You’re not wrong. They’re completely different.”
Karin winced as a stab of sunlight hit her eye, rubbing at her temples to ward off the approaching headache―which had, conveniently, started approaching just after she had left Takahashi’s checkup.
Soo-jin was a good friend―more specifically, she was a good friend who was not entwined in Fallon, Alliance, Earth, Mars, or any of the other powers currently playing out on the board.
With her, there was no need for pretense.
About a week ago, she’d set her on to researching the ruins. So far, Karin was getting the impression that she hadn’t found much.
But she hadn’t yet told Karin that she looked like shit yet, and it got her away from the rest of the camp for a bit.
Plus, she’d been too busy with missions to catch up with Soo-jin.
Gods. It’s been four days since I last spoke to her.
Tia was right. These missions were getting to her.
She let out a heavy sigh and forced her squinting gaze to focus on the five stone ruins in front of her.
They were, at best, a confusing misconception. An archaic red herring that sat next to Seirlin Biocorp’s mad science experiment. These ones, half-hidden in the low-hanging undergrowth just down the slope from the compound, where a once-cleared area had been taken over by a grassy coating of ambitious undergrowth, had a russet color that time was slowly eroding away. Three of the five stones had been knocked askew by growing roots, with vines and flowers creeping up and over their sides. Others had grass tops, like mossy, frayed haircuts. One even had a small sapling growing on one edge, its roots draping down like thick, permanent versions of Soo-jin’s dreadlocks.
But, where the ruins in Macedonia had thin, shallow, barely-discernible markings―like kitten scratches rather than anything remotely legible―whoever had made Brazil’s ruins had etched in deep, and the thick gouges brooked no confusion over what pictures were shown on the sides.
Their content was disconcertingly accurate.
“Now, I don’t want to get meta about this,” Soo-jin said, tapping a finger to her lip, appearing to grimace. “But there’s literally a fucking dude on here reaching for a star that has a literal snake encircling it. Isn’t that pretty fucking on point for this whole Eurynome Project shit?”
“Yes,” Karin said. “It’s very on point for this Eurynome Project shit.”
She winced, rubbing her temple a little harder and thinking wistfully of the painkillers in the Nemina’s Med bay. She’d already seen the petroglyphs. She and her sister had made a point to inspect them very thoroughly on the morning after their arrival, and the apparent accuracy of the images etched into the stone had definitely unnerved them.
The snake itself was an easy link to the Project, given that Seirlin had used a gods-damned ouroboros in its emblem, but the star was what hit harder, since it appeared to refer specifically to her. With her original designation as Program Eos, she was meant to represent the coming of the dawn. Although the star on the rock depicted something that looked like a more distant star than a closer representation of a sun, Dr. Sasha―the crazy, malfunctioning Program Chaos―had modified the Program Eos parameters to create Program Eosphoros, which did represent a star.
Gods, she hoped the girl was still safe. The only time she’d seen her, her clone had seemed to dislike both her and Nomiki on sight. She suspected it was a reaction to seeing a grown-up version of herself―despite their differences in lived experience and upbringing, they’d instantly recognized the similarities in each other. The physical characteristics had been obvious. Ione had the same blond hair as Karin and shared a similar build and eye color, but she suspected it was their similarity in mannerisms and body language that had thrown the girl.
After their raid on Sasha’s pocket dimension, everyone they had found in the tanks and pods had gone into Fallon custody, and those with powers―Ione, Toriana, Genevieve, and many others―had been moved into a special building on Nova Kolkata’s base.
Karin often worried that Sasha would go back to retrieve them. Why would she have kept them around if she didn’t need them? And, with the time delay between them and Chamak, they wouldn’t know what had happened for hours.
Hopefully, though, the imagery on the petroglyphs was a coincidence and not actually related.
Her jaw tightened as a memory of Marc’s voice came to her.
I don’t believe in coincidence.
This was the first time today that
she’d thought of him.
For the briefest moment, a coldness twinged inside her chest.
No, she still didn’t want to think of him.
You can’t avoid it indefinitely, Tia told her. You should just confront him now. That way, we don’t have to keep having it drag on us.
She clenched her jaw.
You don’t get a say in this. You’re the one who took those feelings away.
And you’re the one who agreed to it. So, let’s get on with it, shall we? Either shit or get off the pot.
Fuck off.
“Uh…Karin? You still in there?”
Soo-jin was looking at her, waving her hand in an exaggerated motion. Karin snapped back to reality, realizing that more than thirty seconds had passed since she’d last spoken. Belatedly, she recognized the distinct hum and buzz of her brain―a sign that it was working a little extra harder than normal, for whatever reason.
The headache, at least, seemed to be passing.
She gave her head a shake and slicked a stray frazzle of blond hair back. “Sorry, lost in thought. What did I miss?
“Oh, nothing. I was asking stupid questions. Talking to myself, mostly.”
She grinned at her friend. “Did you get stupid answers?”
“Most likely.” Soo-jin wrinkled her nose, one hand lifting to feel down the stone’s side. “My research hasn’t turned up much. I have no idea how old these are, nor do I have any idea who made them. According to what I could find, there were many different cultures of people inhabiting these lands, some of which remained uncontacted well into the twenty-first century, but a massive fire at Brazil’s main museum took out a lot of the historical documents and collections. Unless the UN comes up with something for us, so far, I haven’t found any significant documentation of which cultures lived in this specific area.”
“You mean, there aren’t specific tourist signs in our secret scientific compound?” She let out a small chuckle and twinged a smile Soo-jin’s way. “Thank you. I appreciate your effort.”
Soo-jin shrugged. “It wasn’t much of an effort. Just reading. And clicking. And frowning. And struggling with translation programs. And not getting far at all.”
