Archon's Queen

by Matthew S. Cox

  “What the fuck is going on? Why was there some woman in my head?”

  “Look out!” shouted Anna.

  He swerved past a support beam, howling as he wrangled the car into something close to normal flight.

  Anna held onto the roof handles, staring out the window at the sloped wall of plastisteel and glass that circled the lower half of the building. The car rocketed around in a downward spiral, swaying left to right, chased by its reflection in the surface below.

  The console became a blinking mass of red and orange as it erupted with lights and warnings. They bumped and scraped over the edge of the thirtieth floor parking deck, the top level of a detached section of building where the non-executive employees parked.

  Anna’s weight crushed into the seat until a collision from below bounced her into the roof. Grinding scrapes shuddered through the frame as it bottomed out with the ground wheels still retracted, and went into a skidding spin. When motion ceased, she ventured a look. They had come to a halt three inches away from the far edge, having slid between two rows of parked cars without touching a single one.

  Anna glanced at the man next to her. “Fine bit of flying, that.”

  He glared at her, reaching for his sidearm, but his eyes fluttered with Aurora’s presence.

  Fragments of acrylic showered the interior as a hail of bullets riddled the driver. He slumped dead over the console. Aurora’s voice moaned from the back seat, grumbling about how much it hurt to be killed. A plain grey hover-van swooped out in front of them, gliding with the side door open. Three men inside continued to fire full-size assault rifles at the car.

  Anna ducked under the glove box, arms crossed over her head to shield from the rain of debris. When the firing stopped, her fear morphed into anger. She sprang up in the seat and reached out through the broken windshield. Dazzling sparks shot back and forth between her hands before leaping through the air into the van. The riflemen bailed, sliding down ropes to the parking deck as the interior lights faltered and died. She growled, drawing power out of the car around her to make the arc thicker.

  The back end of the hover van erupted into a fireball as the ion drives overloaded. Streamers of lightning crawled along the undercarriage, sporadic blue flashes against the black metal, and it lurched over the edge. Silver windows across the street lit red-orange an instant before the deep rumble of a crash at ground level reached the roof.

  Amid the fading growl of the explosion, a metallic clank rang out from the railing where it had gone down. The three men scattered among the cars to take cover as a fourth came up over the side on a grapple hook. Anna crawled out of the wreck, eyes narrowing into a hateful squint when she saw the long shape of a sniper rifle across the back of the muscular figure pulling himself up and over the wall.

  One of them popped over a car and fired at her. She dove to the ground, crawling away from a spray of broken glass. Another plinked at the deck behind her in a series of near misses that sent her scurrying up to a full sprint. She stayed low, using parked cars for cover as she headed for the stairwell. A man slid out from under a car, sweeping her feet out. She hit the ground. He was on top of her in an instant. A hand around the visor pulled her head back, and the glint of a combat knife flashed in the corner of her eye. She drove her helmet into his face, buying enough of a distraction to get an arm on his hand and redirect the knife into her shoulder. The point slipped between armor panels and drew blood.

  Anna screamed. He rolled over on his back, twisting the knife. She shocked his arm, barely able to concentrate on her power through the agony. It had no effect. Anna kicked as he brought his other arm around and hooked his wrist, scraping the blade out of the wound in an attempt to get it past the vest into her throat.

  Insulated suits. She snarled and bit him on the hand, grinding her teeth into the thin material of his glove. As soon as she tasted blood, she let her fear take over. The electric discharge knocked him epileptic, and hit her like a punch direct to the teeth. Boots tromped closer. Disoriented, Anna grabbed at the nearest car trying to figure out which way was up. He roared, shaking off the stun and had a pistol in her face while she was still on all fours.

  His grin evaporated to an emotionless line. “Hang on, luv. I got him. Kindly don’t zap the shite out of me.”

  The possessed man clicked off a few shots over the roof at someone Anna couldn’t see, and whirled a second before another rounded the row of cars, as if she sensed him coming. The man fired in haste; one slug hit Anna in the face at an oblique angle that glanced away from the visor without penetrating. The protective material splintered into an opaque spiderweb. Anna bounced away from the car, bleeding from the nose and dazed.

  Aurora opened fire, walking a line of bullets from chest to head. The soldier staggered back, a spray of red burst from the back of his skull. Anna fumbled to get the helmet off so she could see, and dropped it between her knees. After focusing away the dizziness, she peeked up.

  A glint caught her eye; the man with the rifle aimed from the edge of the roof. She screamed and dove for cover.

  “Aura, sniper!”

  Aurora swung her arm back over the car, the man’s body jerky and zombie-like as he fought her for control. She squeezed off a series of shots, having little hope of hitting him with a handgun at such range, but the attempt was enough to make the sniper duck. Beneath blue muzzle flare, Anna leaned up, staring at the man who had shot her in the back.

  For several seconds, she concentrated, building up a charge in the metal parts of the long rifle. The sniper broke left, seeking refuge behind another car. Creeping arcs leapt from the ground to the tip of the barrel. Sparks spewed from both ends of the electronic scope as it fried; the man holding it convulsed on his feet. Lightning crackled and scored the ground for a few seconds until he managed to toss the weapon to the side, drawing the attack with it. He leapt away from the discharge, and rolled out of sight behind a car.

  Aurora grabbed Anna’s belt, hauling her around like a ragdoll. She hit the ground on her back, sliding away from the possessed man. Before Anna could ask why she had been thrown, a roar of automatic rifle fire blew through him, spattering blood on her face. Wheezing, he fell to his knees and careened over sideways, struggling to crawl.

  The last of the three men from the van shouted from behind a vendomat cluster at the center of the parking deck. Clicking noises gave away he was reloading. “So who paid you off, Paul? I had a feelin’ that damn Brit was involved in something fucked up. He was payin’ too good to help him off his ex-wife.”

  Gurgling, the wounded man reached into the air. “Donny, no! Something… controlling… me.”

  “You think I’m gonna fall for a line of shit like that?”

  Mercenaries? Anna blinked at his surface thoughts.

  Donny finished him with a single shot to the head. Ignoring the viscous red seep oozing out from the dead man’s helmet, Anna forced the last mercenary not to see her. Startled, he rushed forward from his cover, swinging in a leftward arc to aim at where he thought she had gone.

  “What Brit?”

  He whirled, hearing but not seeing Anna a few feet behind him. She sidestepped in case he decided to fire at random.

  “Annabelle, Annabelle…” A man’s voice ended a moment of dead calm with a singing tone. “…where did you go?”

  She recognized it―Agent Gordon.

  The mercenary continued to circle, checking behind the next row of cars. He shivered as he walked into a cloud of arctic air. Fog materialized into the outline of Aurora’s nude form.

  “You should have listened to Paul. Something was controlling him.”

  “Wha―” He screamed, continuing to howl as he scrambled backwards and fired through an Aurora-shaped cloud of mist.

  She laughed the condescending cackle of a high-society woman tormenting the lower class. Her fog-form swam like a mermaid through the air and into his chest. Curling into a ball, he fell thrashing on the ground and shouted, banging his fist into the
concrete until his knuckles bled.

  Unable to find Gordon, Anna crouched behind the wheel of a van. “You’ve got no backup left, Gordo. They’re still in London, or did you get sacked after Thompson survived?”

  Crunching boots moved somewhere nearby. “You’re simply too dangerous to be allowed to remain alive.”

  Donny’s head snapped up, his face red but calm. “My word, this one was stubborn.”

  Two gunshots came in such rapid succession they sounded like a single shot. The last mercenary’s head exploded into a sluice of gore, chunks, and teeth. Anna stared at the expanding pool of crimson burbling out of the stump of a neck. Aurora’s body fell out of a cloud of fog a few yards away, sprawled on the ground, barely conscious.

  “Aura!” screamed Anna.

  “Two deaths is too… Wasn’t expecting…” She passed out.

  Anna scooted over, jamming a stimpak into her friend’s back in hopes the adreno-stimulant helped. The pale woman didn’t move. She stuck her with a second one before the scrape of a boot made her jump back against the vehicle. Anna whined at Aurora.

  “Come on, get up,” she whispered.

  “Two birds with one stone.” Hidden Gordon laughed at his own joke. “By the way Anna, I should thank you for sparing me the expense of having to pay those men.”

  nna peered around the back end of the car, balling her hands into fists as Gordon strode into view with a large pistol in each hand. Threading her mind into his, she moved as fast as she could while concentrating on keeping herself invisible. A field flickered through his brain, some manner of mental screen that made it more difficult to see his thoughts. Anna broke out in a shivery sweat from the exertion, but forced herself in anyway. Gordon staggered for a moment, touching his skull as if something burned him. She thought back to the inhibitor. His tech isn’t calibrated to our level. I can’t keep this up very long.

  Agent Gordon looked to a sudden beeping from his armband display, raising his left arm so he could look over the screen, almost aiming at her with his other hand.

  “Well, well. Still playing mind games through a psi screen.” He sighed. “This piece of shit is supposed to keep you out of my head. Learn something new every day.”

  The first time he fired, she had the nerve to trust he would miss. When he corrected, her resolve faltered and she sprinted at him, no longer able to keep up the effort to remain invisible. He flung his left arm out and fired the nanosecond the gun went vertical. The slug crushed into Anna’s breast, stalled on the armor, but the impact sent her to the ground, wheezing.

  “Like pulling the wings off of flies, or pixies as the case may be.” Agent Gordon offered a sincere smile before turning to aim down at Aurora’s head.

  Aurora’s body dissipated into fog as if she were a smoke-filled bubble popped by the bullet. Anna smiled at the sound of the ricochet, cradling her chest and trying to breathe.

  “Well that’s just rude.” Gordon faced back to Anna. “I suppose I’ll have to eat the pudding before the meat.”

  The fog coalesced around Gordon. He cringed as if experiencing a sudden migraine. Aurora faded in screaming and holding her head. Gordon raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I suppose the bloody thing is good for something.” He grabbed for her, but she zipped down through the floor. “That one’s always been a pain in the ass.”

  Sliding backwards, Anna held a hand against her chest where the bullet hit her. Anger got the better of her, and she hurled a blast of lightning into the pistol. Gordon flew off his feet, landing on the ground a short distance away as the smoldering handgun skittered out of his grip.

  He remained still for a moment before clasping his elbow and tapping his chin with his right forefinger. “You know, Anna. An insulated combat suit is quite the thing for dealing with people with your particular specialty. That almost tingled.”

  Anna hesitated; her heart sank. “Why do you have to do this to us? All we want is to live like anyone else.”

  He made a whimpery noise, mocking her. The condescending smirk she imagined hid behind the black material over his face. She sprang to her feet and sprinted past him to the dropped sidearm. He spun, kicking the back of her right foot out from under her as it hit the ground. She went over, sliding on her ass and knocking the pistol farther away. He grabbed her ankle when she went to run again, and dragged her closer.

  Anna flipped over, drilling him across the face with her boot hard enough to make him let go, and scrambled in a crabwalk away from him. A chill ran through her as he laughed.

  “That legwork might have worked at the strip club, but I’m not impressed.”

  Telepathic invisibility forced him look at the armband once more; when he did not react to her, she had an epiphany, realizing it was a motion tracker. Anna froze. Gordon rotated, searching. She could not see where his gaze pointed due to the opaque lenses. His display chirped as her hand slid two inches rearward, and she went still again, letting him run past her.

  Anna stopped concentrating on the telepathic invisibility and opened her mind to the electronics on his arm, calling to the sensor’s power cell. It went off in a bloom of sparks and a spray of molten plastic and glass fragments.

  Roaring in pain, Gordon took a knee. “That’s gonna cost you, whore.”

  Anna jumped on his back and yanked a knife from his belt. She raised it over her head, but he elbowed her in the gut before she could bring it down. The strike winded her and knocked her off him, sending her into a backward stagger. Gordon took a step and she lunged a second time. He swatted her attack away with an almost casual deflection as if he toyed with a child. Twice more she came at him and met similar results; the third time, he caught her hand, disarmed her, and flipped her to the ground.

  “Who the hell taught you how to fight?”

  Anna’s face reddened as he twisted agony into her shoulder. “No one, you twat. I grew up on the street.”

  “Oh, that’s so tragic.” He let go of her and took a step back. “There’s no fun in that. I could go beat up ten year olds all day, but it’s just not entertaining. Come on, get up; grab the knife.”

  Anna staggered to her feet, cradling her arm where he twisted it. “What the devil’s wrong with you?”

  “I only want this to be fair.” The way his head tilted made her imagine the shit-eating grin she hated so much. “Here…”

  He pulled another knife from a vest sheath, and held it in a closed fist. “This is your basic hammer grip, good for newbies like you.” He shifted his thumb along the spine of the blade. “This is a saber grip. When you learn a little bit more, you can employ this with some footwork.” After a brief demonstration of stances and shuffling, he flipped the weapon over, holding it like the first time with the blade pointed down. “Now the icepick grip is advanced; once you know what you’re doing, you can use it with some of the fancier deception techniques, but you give up some reach for power. However”―he tossed the knife and caught it upright―“you’re not even close to that level yet.”

  He lunged with a teasing attack. Anna evaded it, but walked right into the foot sweep.

  He pinched his temples, shaking his head. “That’s just sad. Get up.”

  A crackling azure bolt connected her hand to his crotch for several seconds. He squealed, grabbing himself, and fell to his knees. Anna leapt at him, stepping straight into a jiu-jitsu arm takedown. She wound up kissing the ground with no knife in her hand.

  “I was faking. Rubber suit, remember.” He tapped his crotch. “Zap away, doesn’t do a bloody thing.”

  Growling, she struggled to crawl away from him, but he held her fast.

  “No appreciation anymore. You Covs are all the same.” His backup pistol pressed against the side of her head, above her right ear.

  She wailed as it crushed her skull against the concrete.

  The sound of a gunshot almost emptied her bladder. Gordon lurched forward, falling on top of her with a loud grunt. She rolled off as he fired to the side in mid somersaul
t, reddening the white shirt of a Timmons-Orben security guard. Two shots struck within millimeters of each other in the man’s heart. Anna sprinted a dozen car lengths before diving into a slide beneath vehicles.

  Gordon snarled, scanning left and right. A small advert bot zoomed in, hovering over the dead man, displaying an offer for medical products. Agent Gordon pointed and burst into laughter, which grew more intense as the little machine got a better look at the guard, and the ads changed to solicit various funerary services.

  Another security officer emerged from the main entrance, firing as soon as he had a bead on Gordon. From the unsteady gait and sudden expression of confusion, she figured Aurora tried to help and bailed out before this man died too. Anna bolted during the distraction in an effort to put as much distance as possible between herself and Gordon while the security man kept him occupied.

  A stark white enclosure forty meters away offered the respite of a door. She found it locked and screamed out of sheer mindless frustration.

  Bullets hit the wall, chasing her to the right and under the nearest car.

  “Planning to fly off the roof, Pixie?” Gordon laughed. “You’re running away from the door. I suppose you are just trying to keep me busy until Doctor Mardling shows up to save his little sex doll. He is coming, is he not? I’ve got something special for him as well.”

  As much as Anna wanted James to save her, being called a sex doll filtered the world red. She sprang up, sending a twenty-foot long arc of lightning into his chest, which slithered around him to the ground. This time he did not act like it did anything, offering only a laugh. Anna seethed. Her anger came in waves mirrored in flickers upon every lamp in the area.

  Three cars burst into flames behind her as she raged; great crackling serpents of electricity burned holes through their hoods and coiled around her. Sizzling sparks licked up and down her entire body, channeled it into a blast that flung Gordon off his feet and sent him ass-first through the windshield of a cherry red sportscar fifteen meters away. Smoke and the scent of burned rubber filled the air. At the center of his armor, a palm-sized patch of bare skin stood out where his black suit had melted into his flesh.