by JM Guillen
Anya paused for a moment. When she did speak, I thought her voice sounded a touch stilted.
“Carbon bonds are slightly weaker here.” Anya didn’t look at me but at the space just to my side instead. “You might expect slightly more explosive effects from your pistols, and the Seraph should be more efficient as well.”
“Copy that.” Gideon nodded to me. “Take point, Bishop. Use the comm if you need to.”
“Understood.” I nodded, slipping to the front of my cadre. My footsteps echoed strangely on the stone, almost as if sound moved differently here.
I peered ahead, looking toward the archway Gideon had indicated. I only took a few steps, however, before I saw something that made my heart sink.
“We aren’t finished here.” I pointed to a far wall, behind where the subway car came to its final rest. “It looks like we weren’t the only ones who got caught in this particular snare.”
There, lying on the ground, was the broken corpse of Liam Hunter.
“Fuck.” Gideon swore, not quite to himself. “Looks like we have some business to attend to.”
The five of us wordlessly gathered around the body. Even Wyatt had nothing to say. We all knew that one day we might be killed in the line of duty—it was all part of the gig. But the idea of having my body come to rest here, under those strange, shambling stars, was particularly chilling.
It felt like a horrifyingly lonely fate.
Finally, Anya spoke, “There are protocols.” Even she was obviously a touch uncomfortable. “If Aberration 45171R sought to learn more about Facility technology and Assets, leaving him here would be in violation—”
“Yes, yes.” Gideon did not look up at her as the wheels turned in his head. “Christ, give the man a minute.”
I stepped away, thinking to make certain that our position was at least somewhat secure. After all, we had no idea how far away the Vyriim were. What if they had expected us to drift in to the courtyard next to this one? Any moment now, they could come pouring in, and we would be up a—
“Michael?” Gideon’s voice was soft.
I turned to him.
“Sir?”
“I was wondering if you had ever geared a Gatekeeper packet?”
“No.” I frowned. I had considered it, yes, but had never actually done it. Gatekeeper was both the name of the packet and the unofficial term for the devilish crossbow that the Asset wielded. It was a formidable device.
“He can’t exactly sync it, even if he had.” Wyatt echoed my own thoughts.
“Rachel knows as well as I do that she could create a soft sync using viral mecha and your Crown architecture.” Gideon gave me a pointed look.
“Dangerous.” Rachel bit her lip as she thought. “The Temporal Corona takes a quite a bit of Crown space, even with the augment.”
I hadn’t considered the Temporal Corona. Once synced with the Crown, the augment for it hung like a half-halo at the back of the Asset’s head, not actually touching the skin. Several bright blue lights danced on its surface when active—not exactly subtle.
“And there’s quite a bit of neuralware required,” Rachel continued. “I don’t think a soft sync is a good idea. I can’t even access the data on how to orchestrate—”
“You are brilliant, Rachel.” Gideon flashed her an assuring smile. “You soft synced an Artisan packet a couple of years back.” He cleared his throat. “That’s a sight larger than the Gatekeeper.”
“I also had the Lattice!” Her frown deepened. “Not to mention, that was Asset 081. He knew a thing or two about the tangler.”
“Jonathon Crowe?” The information running across his oculus stopped at once. “You had a dossier with the Rook?” Wyatt was genuinely curious.
“That doesn’t matter now.” Gideon silenced them both. “We can’t leave this gear here. We either destroy it or we take it along. Bishop is the only one who doesn’t have any equipment.”
“Then let’s take it for now.” Rachel seemed less than pleased at the thought. “I can look into it but not while we’re out in the open like this.”
“There’s still Liam’s internal architecture.” Gideon turned to Wyatt.
“The Primary Protocol is clear in these situations.” Anya’s tone was soft.
“Fine.” Wyatt’s voice was quiet, resigned. “Let me gear up.” He began inputting data onto the small interface that hung at his hip, his fingers flying with unerring skill.
Liam had two pieces of physical equipment, the Temporal Corona and a crossbow-shaped device—the gatekeeper itself.
Gideon reached over and picked up the weapon, hefting it in one hand. He grinned at me. “I bet it’s the first time an Asset has had a gatekeeper strapped across their back while in a three-piece suit.”
“I bet you’re right.” I took it from him and strapped it on. It was heavier than I expected and more than a little ungainly.
“Luckily, the Corona is easier to carry.” He picked it up, a silver half-circle the size of a small plate. With a small click, the outer arms of the Corona folded back on itself, making it a curved piece of metal a little longer than my hand.
I took it from him and put it in my pocket.
“I think that’s it, Wyatt. If you’ll take care of business, I’ll make the log,” Gideon said.
Wyatt nodded and turned away from us. The tangler whined, and he began to place spikes.
WHUF. WHUF. WHUF.
The Primary Protocol was of course, one of secrecy. In instances like this, however, it went much further. It also dealt with the standards and practices regarding allowing our technology to fall into the hands of other forces, both Irrational and mundane.
The shadows in the courtyard grew strange as the first three of Wyatt’s spikes ignited with a flickering, silvery flame.
“I’ll keep watch.” I nodded at Gideon and Anya. I had seen this necessary horror before, besides I wanted to be certain we remained secure.
Gideon nodded.
Obliteration protocols were standard. First, Wyatt would stabilize the area’s axioms with a trifecta of spikes that would burn away traces of rogue Irrationality. I didn’t know how he calibrated such things in an Irrational topia, but I was certain that the answer would just hurt my head.
Once that was done, he would use the nuclear fire within the atoms of the corpse to burn it to nothingness. There would be absolutely no remains.
I didn’t like thinking about it.
As stark and certain plasma ignited the corpse of one of my own, I stood away from my cadre. I peered through the archway into a queer and bent city, wavering, splayed beneath stars that undulated and mesmerized.
After a moment, Gideon walked over to me, opening his small pack. He held out a cigarette.
“Last ones.” He shook his head, as if it was the worst thing imaginable.
I nodded at him and took it. We stood together, saying nothing.
I hadn’t known Liam, not well. Still, as I smoked with Gideon under a strange and trackless sky, I couldn’t help wondering who he had been, how he had found his way into this life we had shared. He had died trying to recover me at a time when I hadn’t even known I was lost.
“There was a second cadre, you know.” Gideon took a drag. “Sent in to Detroit after you. Most of them were dead before I found you.”
I nodded. I did know, I realized. That also accounted for the man with the headset and gloves. That was a Wrath-class packet.
“Seraph… Wrath… the Facility wasn’t pulling any punches here, were they?”
“No.” Gideon’s tone was grim. “No they were not.”
We were all just pieces on a vast and unseen board. Ever since we had discovered the Vyriim incursions, our missions were all moves and countermoves in a hidden war. An Asset could all too easily to get lost in studying intel on the creatures, analyzing their patterns and the little data we actually knew to be solid. In the end, we knew only one thing for certain:
The future of our entire world depended upo
n stopping the Vyriim.
Liam had given his life for that. Yet as soon as I went offline, I would forget him, just as the rest of the world would.
Eventually, the silvery atomic fire died. It was done.
Wyatt walked over to us, followed by Anya and Rachel.
“Take point, Bishop.” Gideon nodded through the archway. “We’ll follow. Keep us apprised of any contact.”
“Copy that, Alpha.” I nodded at the others.
Liam had died to keep our secrets from the grasping tendrils of our alien foes, and yet there we were regardless, castaways in a world distant from our own. We had to get home, if for no other reason than lending Liam’s death meaning.
I looked into a seemingly endless city, staring into a warren of bizarrely angled streets and structures. My thoughts remained grim as I stepped into the darkness.
It was time to get to work.
7
The city opened out into a labyrinth in a valley before us.
It contained buildings, certainly, but more it seemed to be a warren of interconnected courtyards and passageways between ledge-like terraces in open spaces. As I adjusted the gatekeeper and stepped through the archway, I had a wide view.
The sprawling jungle of spires and oddly squat structures were grouped so closely they almost piled on top of one another. Occasionally, the towers had great, yellow pyres burning atop them, shining like furious stars. Those were the only lights I could see at all in the dim twilight, but they cast a glow like moonlight across the city.
Empty street ahead, I linked over the comm, keeping to the shadows as I slipped forward. I can send patches over the comm if you want a layout, Alpha.
Negative. I expected the answer; patching images over the comm took a lot of the Crown’s resources without the Lattice. Let’s just secure a safe house.
Copy. I understood the subtext; Gideon trusted my instincts. How are we tracking coordinates?
Telemetry does not show a magnetic north. Anya’s link felt just a touch confused. I am delineating a landmark as functional north for now.
Understood, I linked back as I stepped through the streets.
A soft green marker appeared within my vision, centered on one of the great towers of basalt and iron just under a great, yellow bonfire. It faded to a dim halo, presumably to conserve resources.
Anya continued, There is a small blip in telemetry at functional west eight degrees, seventeen tack one-two-six, by north twenty-eight degrees, fourteen tack three-seven-two. She paused, as if double checking her readings. It’s gravitational in nature—a fluctuation of point-five R.
That’s odd. Gideon mused, but I knew he could tell that Anya had more.
It’s a tiny fluctuation, only measurable in centigrams. I could feel Anya’s focus through the link. Without Facility technology, no one could possibly detect alterations this small.
That sounds foreboding. Wyatt chimed in, and I could feel his suspicion. Just like some of those snares.
That’s not what this looks like. Anya paused. There’s regularity to this, as if the local axioms are pulsing. The snares usually appeared as snarls in my interface; this looks like spikes.
As my cadre discussed the phenomenon, I decided I should tune them out.
I’m disconnecting comm so I can focus. Alpha, override if you need me.
Copy that, Bishop.
I felt the mental tick as I switched off the comm and ghosted my way down the uneven cobblestone street ahead of my cadre. I knew that whatever Anya discovered might be invaluable, but I doubted it would affect me in the here and now.
The courtyard opened on a path toward the top of a steep hill. The garden we had drifted into was on one of many small terraces that had been cut into the hillside, and I saw more of them below. Humanoid figures milled about, many of them carrying small, yellow lanterns, mirrors of the great yellow flames at the top of the watchtowers. For the most part, the city seemed to be constructed of dark, sturdy stone, but it was unfortunately difficult to look at any one thing for long.
It was as if the world was… skewed.
Rachel had been right about there being something off about perception and space, but it was difficult to put my finger on what it was. The pathway before me was narrow, crooked in an almost organic way, with cobblestones of all shapes cunningly fitted together to form odd, dizzying patterns. The path was lined with stark buildings of a black stone, completely unlike anything I had ever seen before. Veins of multicolored light seemed trapped within the stone, furious colors that had no real name.
Some of the colors I was certain I was seeing for the first time, as if ultraviolet had twisted into the visible spectrum, lurid shades that only existed in the dreams of the mad.
Very little foliage dotted the hillside, and what there was looked to be more of the wildly-colored, fruiting fungus that grew in the blackened pottery. It reached for me as I passed, each stalk pulsing in unison like the heartbeat of some dire creature, dreaming deep beneath the world.
These things were easy to see, even if it hurt the mind to look at them, but in the distance? Down on the next tier or so? I couldn’t look for long. My vision swayed when I did, as if I were in a carnival funhouse. It was only the slightest effect, but after a few moments, I felt dizzy.
And if I looked up at the sky… that was simply too much. It went beyond dizzying; it was a perspective that bent the entire world out of shape.
I was pondering this when a door to my left opened. I froze in place, before slowly and carefully swinging my gaze in that direction.
I switched my comm on just long enough to send a link and hear Gideon’s reply. I have possible contact, Alpha. Will apprise.
Copy that, Bishop.
By the wall stood a young woman. She had long, flowing hair and wore a simple dress. I couldn’t see where she had stepped out from, only the simple expanse of stone that created the wall of one of the smaller buildings behind her. Yet she hadn’t been there a moment before, which made her arrival all the more curious.
My vision strained, dark as the night was, but I remained still. For all I knew, she was host to one of the Vyriim. She could put my whole cadre in danger just by crying out.
It would be safer to kill her before she saw me.
I reached for my holsters hidden beneath my jacket, moving slowly and deliberately. Arching my back, I adjusted the gatekeeper bow to keep it tight against my body. I pulled one of my weapons out and held it to my side.
I took a long, calming breath. If this went badly, I had to end things quickly.
Then her eyes met mine, and this time, she froze in place.
Until she laughed.
She held her hand over her face and laughed like an embarrassed schoolgirl. It was sweet in a positively surreal situation.
When she spoke, her voice fell so whisper-soft that I couldn’t hear her. Yet internally, as if coming over a link, I felt her singsong words, and odd images danced around them in my mind:
Oh, I did not see hidden in the night
A spectre in shadow wreathed in twilight.
The images were the strangest part, an intimate sharing that seemed quite alien. For a moment, I saw myself from her perspective. I stood in the darkness, an indistinct shape that loomed, positively menacing. That was punctuated with other images: a creature similar to a great cat that hunted beneath a golden moon, a blade that stabbed in the darkness, and an angry male figure, dressed in robes and staring at me with endless eyes. Then her laughter bubbled again, and the stark images evaporated.
My fingers relaxed around the hilt of my pistol at her words:
I am late; my kith will fear. I will leave
You to stalk others, hunter in the night.
Her smile beamed, a graceful thing that teased me with secrets.
She nodded and lit a lamp that hung on the side of a building. As the shadows fled, I could see that odd, swirling brands covered her blue-tinged skin. She had a petite, almost non-existent nose. When she tu
rned, I saw that her dress revealed her left breast.
The brands changed then.
Patches of her skin flushed a deep violet, and the color ran down her neck and across her breast and arm. I gaped, not knowing what to make of it.
Was she blushing? Was it a fear response? Was that a message to her Vyriim masters?
I had no way to know. This was all new territory— Hell, I had expected her to burst into tentacles and horror by now.
The woman slipped into the night, moving with an unnatural grace. She cast one glance behind her and smiled.
If I were home, I might have read that as a come-hither look, an invitation to follow. Here, however, that idea felt completely foreign.
“What. The. Fuck.” I watched her go, puzzled. I had expected literally any other response; after all, I was in enemy territory. If she had transformed into a multi-headed abomination, it would have seemed less unlikely than poetry.
But… it wasn’t actually poetry. The sound was fluid, that was certain enough, but I had the impression that she hadn’t tried to be poetic. After all, I hadn’t even been able to understand what she was saying, not in an auditory sense.
I considered that. Perhaps I thought her words should be poetry, as if my mind had tried to distill her being into her expression. What I had felt in my mind had been beautiful. More than the cant of the words created that beauty; it was also the softness with which I had felt them and the shy, innocent way she had responded to her own fright.
Stranger and stranger.
All is well, Alpha. I’m continuing on.
Were you made, Bishop? A trace of concern ghosted through his link.
Oh yes. I was definitely made. I shook my head; the slightest bit of puzzlement still nagged at me. She even smiled at me. She didn’t seem to question my presence at all.
Michael, if you can send specifics on appearance, I might be able to determine what we are dealing with. Anya paused. After our last encounter with Aberration 45171R, I took the liberty of making a study of all known data. I prepared those packets in my Crown, in case we required the information.
