Dysphoria: Permanence (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 7)

by Terra Whiteman

  Like us, said everyone’s expressions, but no one dared to speak that aloud. How could we want to destroy something so much like us, was what I wanted to ask, but I knew the answer: fear. If they were like us, they could replace us, and that was at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

  “They weren’t at The Atrium,” I said, feeling the disappointment peak across the room. “But it was confirmed that they were there recently to pick up supplies.”

  “Can they shield their obelisk activity?” asked Adon.

  “I’m not certain. I’m leaning toward no, since they didn’t shield their activity on The Atrium. Unfortunately Dracian … left … before we were able to fully recognize his script’s potential.”

  “We’ll reach that point shortly,” Genzophi assured me.

  “We won’t be able to tell until obelisk activity is triggered again,” I said. “The script is programmed to record and locate obelisks that are used. So far all we have on record are the ones at Exo’daius, Halcyon and The Atrium.”

  And then to my horror, a new beacon suddenly blinked on the gridcast map. It was a world called Gantzt, according to the obelisk’s demographical information. It seemed they had taken my advice, however the timing couldn’t have been worse.

  The crowd murmured, and then everyone began speaking over each other, demanding to know what they should do. I only stood there, numb. Adon and Genzophi, the conference leaders and hosts of the aperture, tried to placate the room. In a fleeting moment, orders were passed. The IQD was dispersing to gather their arms in preparation for a sim-jump when the gridcast map switched to a gleaming red alert notice:

  RETICULUM COMPROMISED. ALL HALON QUALIFICATION DIRECTIVE OFFICIALS REPORT TO TELERAM ENGINEERING IMMEDIATELY.

  Everyone froze in confusion, having never seen something like this before. The majority of attendees looked toward Adon and myself for guidance. We took a second to investigate the matter on our private streams.

  The vacant carapace of Scripter Regan-297 was found in the Sector Four engineering vector. The aperture host had been Architect Durian-345, who had then vacated the aperture, causing Regan’s carapace to be dumped outside the vector gate in Teleram’s southern gallery. The Architect in question was last recorded entering the Reticulum. Inspection must have pieced together that the rogue Feeler was attempting to breach the Codemaker’s Labyrinth.

  Shatterstar.

  Cassima, what have you done?

  But then I realized what he had done—divided the offense. His recklessness was deliberate, as it would prevent full attention to the eradication of the Vel’Haru. In turn, he had taken on half the threat alone.

  “If all of us go, we’ll miss our opportunity,” I cautioned, aligning with Cassima’s tactics. “The Vel’Haru might disappear; for good this time.”

  The strain of such a decision was visible on Adon’s face. Never before had he been forced to act against the direct orders of Teleram. Follow the program, follow the program, chanted his script. Following the program would be the death of him, and Cassima was exploiting that fact.

  “Half of the room, move to Teleram,” he ordered, though I could tell this decision was not without conflict. “Sarine, take the other half and prepare for a Sim-2 jump.”

  I nodded. “Will Teleram sanction us?”

  “Hopefully not,” reasoned Adon. “The Breach has always been the prime directive of our system. I’ll speak to the Teleram Regals.”

  I bowed my head again, and half the room dispersed from the aperture in a burst of light. The other half were left staring at me with waning courage. I kept a steeled façade, playing the part of Halon IV’s IQD head, stowing away the concern for Cassima’s safety and the fear of what his success might bring. Genzophi was still with us—I would have to be tactful, lofty. Hopefully the Vel’Haru would realize that I was bringing them a reluctant battle, yet a battle nonetheless.

  “Regals,” I said over the dwindled crowd, “gather your Feelers and selectees and report to Exo’daius. We move out in a half-cycle.”

  And then my neck twitched, sending tremors up the side of my face. My vision blanked for a moment, returning as a slowly expanding tunnel.

 

  ***

  Cassima Shard—;

  They had found me out, and I was trapped in a carapace not equipped for combat. I would have to make do, somehow.

  The grim dreamscape had ended once I’d stepped through the gate. I now stood in a long, non-descript corridor. There were lesser-gates aligned in rows across both walls, and one emanating red at the end of the corridor. None of them were labelled, making this situation all the more ominous.

  The deafening alarms coming from everywhere kept my feet moving. Nothing happened until I crossed the half-way mark of the corridor, when other architects began emerging from the gates on the walls, curious and confused as to what was happening.

  They were easy enough, also ill-equipped for combat. It was a simple matter of quick maneuvering, a finger to their necks, and they fell to the floor in droves. A few of them retreated through their gates after witnessing the first five collapse at my feet; others stood paralyzed in fear. I passed them by without so much as a glance. I wouldn’t harm anyone that stayed out of my way. I moved through the red gate at the end of the corridor, unmarred.

  And then I was standing in another identical corridor, the only difference being that the gate at the end emanated blue.

  Here, my favor ran out.

  This time, the welcoming party was not composed of architects, but Regals. They had acquired permission by Teleram to enter the Reticulum. To kill me.

  There were four of them, and one I recognized—Regalis Adon-875, Sarine’s counterpart. Relief ushered through me when I didn’t see her. As they rushed me all at once, I braced myself and pressed my hand to the right aperture wall. A web of silver threads spread across it like vines. I exhaled, trembling from the amount of force that’d taken. Feeler-generated apertures were far tougher to manipulate than others.

  The rapidly-diminishing space between us rippled; I hung my head, closed my eyes, and relieved myself to survival instinct.

  XVIII

  EVISCERATE

  Regalis Sarine-376—;

  THIRTEEN REGALS.

  Four Feelers.

  Eight Shells—Framers whose sole purpose was to protect their peers in places where midcivvers mingled. Ash’kanar, mainly.

  This was all Teleram had afforded me. The rest were thrown at the Reticulum breach. Hardly a battalion. Whether or not twenty-five of us stood a chance against seven Vel’Haru within their own territory was yet to be determined, though the odds were in our favor. If they won, surely they deserved the throne to the Multiversal food chain. But I kept that sentiment to myself.

  We emerged on Gantzt in a burst of fractal light, blue plasma and sparks intermingling outward in the wake of our reality shift. The freezing temperature disarmed us, but only for a moment.

  It was dusk here, and Gantzt’s sun crept below the line of frost-tinged flora, encasing the fortified dwelling that we’d materialized in front of. It was tall and rectangular, made of smooth grey stone. A frozen lake surrounded the dwelling, and an arching bridge connected the dwelling entrance to a rough path.

  Cassima had met them here before, but now the dwelling lay abandoned. Our Feelers had already caught a scent and strayed from our group, moving toward the shore, eyes on the northern horizon. I followed their gazes.

  Peaks of mountains were scarcely seen against the darkening sky. Even harder to detect was the construct wedged between the peaks; a black mass, angled steeply enough to give the illusion that at any moment it could slide right off the cliff-face.

  They were there. The Feelers knew it, and so did I. Leid had left a luminescent thread, humming with her resonance, across the lake and through the dense flora.

  It was obviously a t
rap; she wasn’t even trying to be inconspicuous about that.

  “There,” I said to the others, pointing at the skyward mass half a world away. Curiously neither the Regals nor Shells could see the thread. Had Leid left it specifically for me? I was certain the Feelers could see it at least—they could see everything. Unfortunately there was no way to verify that assumption since they were mutes.

  At precisely the moment I’d said that, the area surrounding the mass on the mountains shimmered; the air rippled. The Feelers looked confused—or at least as confused as expressionless drones could. I took their sudden chaotic shuffling to mean they couldn’t feel the Vel’Haru anymore.

  They’d pulled their shielding trick. The timing was too perfect; they knew we were here. My gift had been useful to them.

  From the top of the mass shot a fiery bullet, trailing sparks of monochrome red. A flare.

  Come and get us, implied that spectacle.

  “Well, that’s a trap if I’ve ever seen one,” said Genzophi, folding his arms. The others said nothing, concurrent.

  “No truer words,” I responded, analyzing the situation for a moment longer. “It appears we have no choice but to walk directly into it.”

  “We’ve seen Lelain’s feed,” said Genzophi. “Even here we are much stronger than them. Their trap suggests they’re cornered, only prolonging the inevitable.”

  I refrained from informing him that our targets had been working tirelessly on that power deficit. And, despite the danger involved, I was curious about the results.

  Leid’s thread was still there, but I chose not to follow it. We would take an alternative route, for precaution. “This way.”

  We advanced around the lake, through the flora brush and into the freezing night.

  ***

  Leid Koseling—;

  Qaira, now.

  I heard the burst of the flare as he shot it from the deck, momentarily illuminating everything around us in red phosphorescence. A second later Qaira receded into the narrowing tunnel at the mouth of the ruins. I watched him crouch behind a fallen communication silo, hearing the shhrck of dual scythes unleashing from his wrists. His uniform was as dark as his surroundings and he melded with the shadows seamlessly.

  How long do we have? he asked.

  I surveyed Grid, honing on their movements as they marched away from the fortress. Doing this and keeping the shield activated so they could not do the same to us was straining. Maybe fifteen minutes. They move faster than we do, but they’re going the long way.

  I’d marked the fastest route with my resonance. To my relief, they took the bait and thought it was a trap. Now we had more time. More time to steel ourselves.

  Yahweh and Zira loaded their pulse rifles and fell into place at either side of the tunnel walls. They, too, crouched with their eyes glued to the entrance. Their faces were concealed by visors that gave off a violet sheen. Qaira’s upgrade to our uniforms would serve us well.

  Adrial, Pariah and Aela took their positions ten paces in front of me at the lift station neck. I was at the lift, long inactive and now only a deep hole leading into the mountain.

  Twenty-five, I said, watching them cross the rocky terrain, approaching the base. There are twenty-five of them.

  Those aren’t very good odds, said Zira. His thought waves were scattered and apprehensive.

  Qaira looked back in his direction. Oh, are you scared? Because I’m the one at the front of the fucking line.

  —As you should be, fodder.

  Quip later, please, said Yahweh.

  Silence. Everyone looked toward the open deck once more.

  They’ve reached the summit, I announced a few minutes later. They’d scaled the cliff-face like it was a ladder. Three are coming up first. Qaira, get ready.

  ***

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  —Qaira, get ready.

  Oh, I was ready, alright; ready to send those painted-faced freaks back to their neon butterfly playhouse.

  The next minute felt like eons. My heart pounded in my ears, and it took everything I had not to move a muscle.

  And then three pairs of electric eyes rose over the deck. They stood there, saying something to each other, but my heart was too loud that I couldn’t hear anything. They weren’t close enough yet. Wait.

  Their forms were outlined by their resonance, all thanks to the visor over my eyes. The shard inserted into the frame refracted my resonance by way of an algorithm—the basewave constant—and now I could sense them just like any one of us. Even better, I could use my resonance just like any one of them.

  They took several cautious steps forward, trying to see through the darkness of the tunnel. The proceeding steps signed their death warrant.

  Leid, lift the field.

  The weight of her EM-lock rolled off my shoulders like a two-ton boulder. Up until now all of our innate power was inhibited, which meant the Framers’ was as well. It prevented them from surprising us with nifty tricks like those spinning electric chain vortices that had shredded Sapphire into pieces.

  As soon as the field was lifted, I lunged from my hiding place with a snarl. The one closest to the mouth was eviscerated by my scythes in a moment’s blur.

  The other two put up a better fight. As the struggle ensued, Yahweh and Zira opened fire. The bullets pierced their armor, but no blood was spilled. They couldn’t regenerate like us, so damage should have been sustained. Here was where the confusion lay.

  They were dressed differently than the other Framers; appearing more like actual soldiers than cyberpunk mannequins. Blades had shot from their wrists, mimicking our scythes, and they swung at me as I dodged, parried and returned blows.

  Zira nailed the one on my right in the head and he staggered back. I took that opportunity to send my scythe through his face. We had crushed his friend’s corpse into sparkly sand under our feet. He collapsed on the pile, adding to the décor.

  I was bloody and tired, having taken a few hits by now. I faltered while dodging a swing by the last Framer standing, and he would have speared me through the chest had his head not suddenly exploded into glittery dust.

  I stood there, dumbfounded. So did everyone else.

  Two more Framer-soldiers leapt onto the deck and before they could activate their razor cages, their heads exploded as well. Their dismembered bodies fell off the side of the cliff, turning into crystal as they plummeted. I heard them shatter somewhere far below. Apparently the shard had amplified more than just my resonance.

  I started to laugh. This was going to be much easier than I’d thought.

  But then they shifted tactics. The next wave of Framer soldiers that appeared on-deck was accompanied by one of those bald-things I’d seen during my imprisonment. As soon as the soldiers got in proximity their heads exploded, but the bald-thing just kept coming.

  Uh, these things are immune, I stammered, stepping back and bracing myself for a fight.

  Behind it, three more Framers took the deck, all of them dressed like Regals.

  ***

  Leid Koseling—;

  And just like that, I understood. The first three waves had been nothing more than a test. Now they knew what to expect, and the real fight began.

  Zira had given up his firearm and joined the struggle on deck. Yahweh remained poised at the entrance, ready to confront anything that managed to slip through. I had no choice but to reinstate the EM-lock, as Qaira was taking too hard of a beating. All I could do was stand there and watch; my control would dwindle if I moved and it was the only thing keeping us alive. Aela, Adrial and Pariah tightened their line, protecting me as the threat moved closer. We were losing. No.

  Leid, lift the field, commanded Adrial. Everyone else, take cover.

  I dropped the lock as Qaira was flung through the tunnel. He hit the wall directly behind me, leaving a dent twice his size. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, nearly sliding into the lift-shaft. I laid over him, using myself as a shield. Yahweh, darted to the wall, pressing
himself against its curvature. Aela crouched and covered her head. Zira and Pariah dove for the tunnel.

  Adrial pulsed.

  An ear-shattering groan ripped across the station, shaking the construct’s foundation and sending a blast of pure force through the tunnel. I gritted my teeth as the gravitational shift threatened to crush my skull. The sound of something cracking beneath us, followed by the rumbling within the walls made us all scramble for the lift-shaft in swift retreat. The entire station shifted at a ninety-degree angle as Adrial’s pulse dislodged it from the cliff. Zira and Yahweh barely made it to the shaft before everything started to collapse in a thunderous crescendo.

  Right before I pulled Qaira down the shaft, I caught a glimpse of the deck ripping away. All of the Framers slid off, disappearing into the night. Hopefully they couldn’t survive a 20,000-foot drop on to uneven, jagged terrain. I knew we couldn’t.

  ***

  Regalis Sarine-376—;

  The thirteen of us still on the ledge below the ruins leapt across the escarpment as it warped and broke away, sliding down the cliffs like a gigantic sleigh. The mountain peaks also fractured. Lithic masses the size of islands rained on us, sending forth an avalanche of snow and ice. Three more of us were lost trying to evade the disaster.

  We regrouped on another ledge far below the wreckage. All that was left of the ruins was a metal disc wedged sideways between two broken horns. The Vel’Haru had vanished.

  Things weren’t going as well as everyone had hoped. I tried to feign concern as best as I could.

  Genzophi, visibly shaken, wondered if we should retreat. His fear was palpable and perfectly justified. Seven ‘mongrels’ had just slaughtered twelve of us in a matter of minutes. Never before had hybrids even put up any sort of fight.

  The nine other Regals objected, pride and anger fueling their drive. I didn’t add my opinion on the matter, but noted that our targets’ means of cover was destroyed, so there at least was that. The Feelers were already climbing back up the escarpment, having caught their scent again. On the disc, we found a hole hidden beneath rubble that looked to have once been carved for an elevator, or lift. It was a straight vertical drop into pitch-black. The Feelers’ anticipated shuffling made it apparent they were down there, somewhere.