Clockwork Asylum

by Jak Koke

  Ryan nodded, and the two walked to the edge of the cliff.

  "Mister Deacon, my country has lost a very valuable piece of hardware, and I'll be honest with you, our last trace of him was near this very site. I have no idea what he was doing here, or why, but we do know he was here."

  Ryan shook his head. "I thought you said you lost a piece of hardware."

  "I did."

  "Then why are you referring to your hardware as a 'he'?"

  Dentado's smile was tight and dangerous. "Once again, I'm going to be forced to rely on your discretion. Have you seen anyone out of the ordinary around here in the last couple of days? He would be hard to miss, as he is quite large."

  Ryan stopped walking. "I still don't get it. Did this guy steal some hardware from you?"

  The smaller man's face took on a look of impatience. "Just answer the question, Mister Deacon."

  Behind him, Ryan heard the rustle of clothing and the distinctive sound of an automatic weapon's slide being pulled. Both he and the Azzie turned, the smaller man just a bit slower than Ryan.

  The picture before Ryan was a still tableau of impending violence. Axler and one of the Aztechnology guards stood face to face, the muzzle of Axler's Predator digging a groove in the man's neck as the guard's pistol jammed into her sternum.

  Grind had dropped to one knee, his Colt Manhunter dead-set on the second guard's forehead. The second guard was trying to play it cool, but Ryan could tell he was jumpy.

  "Nobody move!" yelled Ryan.

  "At ease!" said General Dentado.

  Ryan turned to the small man. "Have your men back off. We don't want any trouble."

  The swarthy man looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow. "For a man who is so large, you seem to have a fear of direct confrontation. Tell me what I wish to know or I will have all of you killed. It is as simple as that."

  Ryan nodded. "All right, yeah, your guy was here. About three days ago. He stole a chopper and bugged out before we could catch him."

  Dentado looked Ryan over, and for a second Ryan felt that his aura was being scanned. Then Dentado nodded and turned to his men. "Rico, stand down."

  The man who was face to face with Axler didn't take his eyes off her as he said, "But, General, this woman is—"

  "I don't care, Captain. Stand down!"

  The man slowly removed his pistol from Axler's chest.

  "Axler," called Ryan. "Back off."

  With a deadly smile, she lowered the Predator. "This is a dangerous place, Captain," Axler said. "It would be a shame if something happened to you."

  Both Axler and Grind stepped back to a little more than five meters, but both still held their weapons at the ready.

  General Dentado turned back to Ryan. "I appreciate your cooperation, and I apologize for the overzealousness of my officers. You should also count yourself lucky that you were not able to intercept the man in question, otherwise I would have been having this pleasant little discussion with a corpse."

  Ryan shook his head. "You got what you came for, now get the frag out. If I see your ships on the radar again, I'll be on the horn to my government so fast they'll take you down before you hit the canyon."

  General Dentado smiled. "I'd expected nothing less. By the way, I hope your ... weather research goes well. Good day, Mister . . . Deckerd."

  "Deacon."

  "Of course. My apologies." With that, the short man headed for the chopper, followed closely by the two guards, who walked backward, weapons still drawn.

  Within minutes, they were gone.

  Ryan walked over to Axler and Grind, who were talking and laughing. "Nicely played, you two."

  Grind turned. "Thanks, Quicksilver. I think we were about a half beat too late, but it was difficult to read your body language."

  Ryan shook his head and smiled. "No, any sooner and he would have known something was up. You were both right on."

  Axler shook her head. "Those boys were good. When we made our move, I would stake all the chrome I've got that they were just waiting for us to make a play."

  Ryan nodded, and looked at the skyline where the choppers had disappeared. "I got the same feeling."

  "They were looking for Burnout, weren't they?" said Grind.

  "Yeah. Probably want to recover his tech. That drek is expensive." Ryan winced. "They know we were lying about this being a weather station," he said. "But I think they bought our story about him hitting us and disappearing."

  Axler shook her head again. "I got the distinct feeling we'll be seeing those boys again."

  "Me, too," said Grind.

  Ryan turned his back on them, the familiar pain working at his gut. Fatigue hitting him suddenly in the pouring sunshine. He was tired of the unending search for Burnout. Tired of staring into the unchanging maw of Hells Canyon. He was tired of the mission Dunkelzahn had left him.

  Maybe Nadja's right. Maybe I should take a break from this place and settle things with her. Maybe that's what Dunkelzahn would have told me to do.

  In the sky, the sun rose high into the washed-out blue above the mountains. But can I afford to leave now? What if General Dentado finds Burnout before I do? What if Aztechnology gets the Dragon Heart?

  He didn't know what to do. He was unused to indecision; he was a man of focused action. A weapon, guided by Dunkelzahn.

  Nadja will know, he thought. She will help me think this all through.

  Provided she doesn't hate me for almost killing her.

  2

  It had been a long and rough trek from the depths of Hell, beginning several days ago. Lethe would never forget it.

  The sensation of drowning as Burnout's body sank to the bottom of the Snake River, until his compressed air supply automatically kicked in to keep the organic parts oxygenated.

  It was incredible that this body was still alive, if barely. The cyberzombie had a number of built-in devices like the air tank nestled into his artificial torso, all designed to keep it going under adverse conditions. In fact, as far as Lethe could tell, the only natural tissue remaining were Burnout's spinal column and part of his organic brain. His limbs were mechanical, his torso was man-made, and all his internal organs had been replaced with a battery pack and a system of some sort to deliver food and oxygen to the organic nervous system.

  A dull sound had come then to Burnout's cybernetic ears, and Lethe had heard it. Lethe listened to the muted throb and realized that it was a boat. If he could move the metal limbs enough to push to the surface, perhaps he could latch on and save the Dragon Heart.

  Lethe discovered that, with Burnout unconscious, the body obeyed his will. He pushed off the bottom and succeeded in latching onto the jet boat. They traveled nearly forty-five kilometers upriver in less than an hour. It was dark when the boat docked, and Burnout's compressed air supply was quickly vanishing.

  Lethe had made the body stagger onto a gravel beach and hide among a jumble of boulders. The moon rose a few hours later—a bloated, blood-colored thing that clung to the horizon like a maleficent boil.

  Burnout had slowly drifted back into consciousness. And as the man's spirit awakened, Lethe lost control over the machine. He became a trapped passenger again, an inmate in the body of a chrome killing machine. Burnout seemed confused, lost, for the first few minutes after he regained consciousness. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

  It took Lethe a moment to realize that the cyberzombie believed himself to be dead, that the machineman had fully expected the fall to kill him. Even though Burnout had come to rely on the near indestructibility of his metal coil, his mind still found it inconceivable that anything, even a being such as himself, could survive that fall.

  Lethe sensed a great feeling of relief in Burnout at this thought, that some great weight had been lifted from the man's shoulders. But then Burnout became fully aware of his surroundings, exerted his will, and called up an internal mechanism he referred to as his GPS—Global Position System.

  Within seconds, Burnout h
ad his exact coordinates, took in the entire situation, and formulated a crude plan. That was when the Dragon Heart made its presence felt, still clutched in the twisted chrome remains of Burnout's telescoping fingers.

  For a moment, Burnout remained rigidly still, then began to laugh. It started as a low chuckle and gradually grew to a shrill whooping screech until Lethe couldn't tell if it was laughter or a cry of pain. It continued for long enough that Lethe began to wonder if the fall had not somehow unhinged the creature's frail mind.

  Lethe nearly panicked again. Being trapped was torture enough, but to be prison mates with an insane animal . .. It was horrifying. Lethe focused his will and tried to exert control over the body, and actually managed a faltering half-step before Burnout's laughter stuttered and wound down to a dry chuckle.

  The man didn't seemed to notice his own involuntary movement, but simply lifted the Dragon Heart and held it before him at arm's length. The blood light of the moon shone on the heart-shaped orb of golden orichalcum. "So I beat you after all, Ryan Mercury," Burnout said softly.

  "I'll give you credit—you were the closest thing to a challenge I've had in years, but in the end, I stole your magic."

  Then something changed in him. Lethe could sense a coldness radiating from the man's aura, a sense of flowing rage. "No. I came away with the prize, but you still beat me, didn't you?"

  Lethe couldn't understand the icy hatred he felt coming from Burnout. After all, Burnout had defeated Ryan, and in the final counting he had the Dragon Heart. Suddenly, it came to him, almost as if he could discern the intense thoughts in Burnout's mind. Burnout had snatched this victory from the jaws of defeat, and the man hadn't known defeat in combat since becoming this nightmare of magical metal contradiction. To him, victory was almost more important than gaining the Heart.

  Lethe also understood one thing more, something he guessed was just sinking into Burnout's mind. Ryan was still out there, in possession of resources, manpower, and weapons that even the cyberzombie, killing machine that he was, couldn't hope to match. Burnout was on his own, while Ryan had a veritable army with which to trace, track, and finally run to ground even the most formidable enemy.

  Burnout was beginning to realize he hadn't come close to winning yet, and victory would never truly be his until Ryan Mercury had been ground to dust beneath his heel. Quickly, Burnout wrapped the Dragon Heart in a strip of camouflage that he tore from his vest and lashed to his belt. He then took a rapid inventory of himself, discovering that he was in surprisingly good shape, all things considered. His telescoping fingers were jammed or sheared off, essentially useless, and his left shoulder showed a slight limit in motion due to a bent servo. His magnetic generator wasn't functioning, either. In the places where his body plating showed through the ruin of his black outer garments, his vat-grown skin had been abraded down to the dermal sheathing, which gleamed red in the light of the full moon.

  "Not too slotting bad," he muttered to himself. "In fact, I feel more coherent and human than I've felt since . . . since I sold my soul to those Azzie hatchetmen. Maybe it's the Heart."

  Burnout continued checking himself over. "What's this?" he said. "I have access to my articulate arm." Lethe felt a thrill of excitement pass through Burnout as a third arm tore itself from the fabric covering the man's back and arced into position above his head. A rotor-barreled weapon sat on the end of it, the cartridges of ammo full and ready to fire. "That fall must have short-circuited the lockout."

  The cyborg activated the weapon, and the barrel whined as it spun, but he didn't fire any bullets. Then he seemed to notice something else, and he shut down his arm and stowed it away into its cavity in his back. "Need to power up soon," he said. "Battery reserves will only last another few days of travel. Considering the terrain, that should be just about enough."

  Lethe found it comforting when Burnout spoke his thoughts aloud. It gave the spirit a way to judge the man's constantly shifting aura.

  They had begun to travel then, making incredibly fast time, given the rough ground they were forced to cover.

  Swiftly, they journeyed up a narrow crevice to the top of the canyon's precipice.

  They had traveled day and night, without rest. Only pausing when Burnout's hypersensitive hearing told of an air vehicle passing overhead. At these times, Burnout burrowed into whatever soft earth was available, digging himself in like an animal, covering himself in as much vegetation as possible to mask his presence from sensors that could detect his heat, from magic that could trace his aura. He knew such efforts were feeble at best, but thought every possible measure might just be the one that left him undetected.

  By the second day, they had come over the mountains and down to the edge of the Salmon River, a broad expanse of water sluicing by the lush bank like a serene serpent. Burnout hesitated long enough to fill his liquid reserve tank. And as he bent to the languid water, Burnout got the first clear picture of what was left of his face. What stared back at him out of the dark water didn't resemble anything living. It was a gruesome mixture of scarred chrome and bits of dried, hanging vat flesh.

  The sight horrified Lethe, but for some reason Burnout found the picture grimly amusing. "All right, Mercury."

  Again, his voice was soft, dangerously gentle. "You've thrown your best at me, and I'm still here. But the next time we come face to face, it won't be Burnout you're looking at. I'm the boogie man now. I'm your worst nightmare, come to life. One look at me, and you'll know Death has come knocking."

  Then he laughed and continued filling his tanks.

  It seemed to Lethe at the time that he had become mere baggage. Any chance he had of controlling Burnout only occurred when the man's consciousness was gone or when his focus slipped so much that he ceased to be aware of his surroundings. Only then could Lethe slip through the neural connection to make contact with the silicon interface.

  However, as they crossed the river, Burnout's attention focused on moving as swiftly as possible over the long stretch of open ground to get back under the cover of the dense pines. In those moments, Lethe sensed something approaching them, something traveling on the astral, something dark, dangerous, and malignant.

  When Lethe turned to face the presence, he knew it for what it was. It was a two-legged creature that seemed to be formed of clotted blood. The thing came after them in a low, shuffling crouch.

  Where the monster's skin showed cracks, dark blood oozed like crimson oil from the crevices. It was a blood spirit, summoned from the sacrificed remains of a living metahuman. As spirits went, it was paltry, especially in comparison to Lethe, and with free movement, banishing it would have been a simple task. However, trapped within the confines of the spirit net, Lethe could not bring his power to bear.

  "Be gone," Lethe told the spirit. "This being is none of your concern and soon will be gone. Let us pass in peace."

  It must have been sent to find Burnout, he thought. Lethe realized that the spirit had been able to track them by the smudge of polluted astral space Burnout left behind him wherever he traveled.

  "Be gone," Lethe told the spirit. "This being is none of your concern and soon will be gone. Let us pass in peace."

  A dry, barking roar was all the response he got.

  Burnout still ran across the asphalt, moving at extreme speed, dodging deep craters and broken rock with grace and ease. He was totally oblivious to the spirit swiftly overtaking him. Unaware that he was being hunted by a power that could destroy him no matter what physical prowess he had.

  As the creature approached, Lethe became desperate. Desperate to let Burnout know what was happening, hoping the wily human had just one more trick he could pull out of thin air. Lethe exerted his will on Burnout, trying to alter the cyberzombie's path so he would be able to take notice of what was gaining on them, but Burnout was too focused, too intent on his goal.

  The stench of the spirit threatened to overwhelm Lethe with its palpable reek of pure evil, and it was just a few meters from Burnout, m
anifested in the physical planes, its long rock hands outstretched to grab, rend, and destroy.

  "Burnout! Behind you!" It was an involuntary cry. And like a distant echo, Lethe heard the ringing of his words deep in Burnout's mind.

  The cyberzombie didn't even hesitate. With action faster than thought, he threw himself to the side, mid-stride, and rolled, coming to rest into a crouch. Chrome blades snapped from his forearms, and his articulate third arm emerged from its cavity and swept up into position above his head. The machine gun began to whine, and suddenly the still air was filled with the roar of gunfire as the weapon belched rounds in an almost continuous spray.

  The blood spirit roared. It was a sound of surprise and anger, but held no note of pain, despite the barrage of heavy rounds disappearing into the gelatinous red flesh. Then it was on them. In one ungainly leap, it landed on the spot where Burnout had been crouching moments before.

  The cyberzombie moved, anticipating the attack, dodging away in a reverse one-handed cartwheel. He slashed at the blood spirit with the blade of his cyberspur as he retreated. The machine gun quickly rotated to keep up its punishing barrage of lead.

  While bullets seemed to have minimal effect, Burnout's blades swept along the surface of the inside of the spirit's thigh, and Lethe saw a thin gash appear, and more dark ooze seeped from the wound. This time when the creature howled, the true sound of pain was unmistakable.

  The creature counter-attacked in a burst of blinding speed. The blood spirit dove at Burnout, its arms out-stretched.

  It caught Burnout around the waist.

  Suddenly every part of Lethe was on fire. The evil burned at his core, tortured his very essence. He screamed, and his cry was matched by Burnout's as the spirit began to squeeze, ignoring the swift mechanical slashing of Burnout's oral spurs along its neck and face.

  Lethe struggled, pushed like never before, straining to get away from the pain. The putrid evil. He pushed at the confines of the gossamer mesh that held him inside Burnout. Lethe focused his entire being in one direction, straining to break even just one of the magical strands.