Anatali: Ragnarok

by A. C. Edwards

  * * *

  Jessica lurched from her control-room seat and lunged for Nicky’s terminal. Flailing, she caught a white cord with her fingertips and yanked. His brain cable popped out of the terminal, slapping her shoulder. Before she could see what happened, his screen went dark. The bot remained still.

  A solid 'clunk' from the pedestal swiveled her head. The Shannon ball rolled in a circle below the rings. Deep breaths. She unplugged Bunny, not knowing if she’d been remotely fast enough.

  This was it? They’d succeeded only to lose at the last moment? Everything she had left?

  Ayla and Kahn sat side-by-side, salt and peppershakers, staring between her and...between her and Christy. The girl knelt on the stone, eyes closed, hands posed on her lap. Dillon lay unconscious at her heels. Jessica clenched her fists, glancing at the monitor in time to see her avatar take a knife in the chest. The connection dropped to zero. The assassin wrapped Shannon's cord twice more around her wrist. The laptop’s screen flickered before distorting in a swarm of numbers, letters, and white-noise static. The mess faded to gray, accompanied by a hiss over the speakers.

  Jessica hot-stepped a four-foot march and slugged Christy in the face. The girl’s head snapped back and smacked the floor, falling over Dillon. Ayla barked and Kahn was on the prowl. Jessica fumbled for her clipper. After disarming the girl, her finger twitched on the trigger.

  “Jessica, no.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure it was her?” Nicky had Christy wrapped around the ankles, wrists-to-hips, shoulders, and one tentacle as a gag. Another was posed, flanges wide for a deathblow. His last arm tap-tapped the control panels.

  “You tell me! You told me to trust my fucking instincts—I think it was her.”

  “You think! Based on what?” Dillon averted his eyes from his lover. “I passed out, maybe she was just zoning too. Wake her up and let her explain.”

  “She probably knocked you out, leaving me up so she wouldn’t draw suspicion from the bots.” Jessica nursed bloody knuckles against her pants, trusting that the flow would stop any moment.

  “Then she would be the real Fenrir, or Lord Loki himself, the great betrayer.”

  “Giving her too much credit, Nicky. How can we keep her down?”

  “Controlled asphyxiation, multiple concussions, stunners—this is not what I do.”

  “It is now. Keep her down. Kill her if you can’t.”

  “Let her go!” Dillon’s face flushed cherry red. And while she didn’t want to court another black-eyed freak-out, there was no way she’d let this slight of a girl beat them—though maybe she already had.

  “Listen, Dillon, calm down. What do you know about her other than her ass? She got thrown into your cell, and if you really are special enough to bargain for, I doubt it was coincidence.” Jessica glanced to the pedestal where the ball still rested, the rings now combined in a static disk, gyrating slowly. “She’s with them.”

  “How? What is she?”

  “I don’t fucking know! I don’t get what happened, or what we’ll do now…did Shannon get the word out?” Her outburst ended in silence. “Nicky!”

  “Lord Odin’s link remains between The Mission and Rosebed. Neither the assassin nor Hester severed the tie—they have likely exploited it. We have incoming. Steady yourselves.” His arms curled around the animals, lifting both high overhead. “Five, four, three…”

  She didn’t know what to expect, whether to stand, sit, or cling to a chair. When she heard the rumble, she didn’t imagine they’d be affected on a floating platform. The cobalt pillars dimmed, then flickered; every workstation around the dais blinked and ticked. A massive boom penetrated the barrier, tossing the floor and knocking her to her knees.

  The barrier dissolved. All went dim to black. Jessica felt fur against her hands and focused on settling her heavy breaths.

  God damn this world.

  Arc 5

  Warehouse

  ~ 41 ~

  Rabbits in the Dark

  November 31, 4124 — 4:58 PM

  “Dani, Dolores, glad to see you made it,” Jessica stepped off the platform by guide of Bunny’s night-vision. Nicky said it was a citywide EMP, a powerful electromagnetic attack that fried the Rosebed’s relays, but didn’t penetrate the barrier, nor the modern FireBots, all of whom had shielding.

  “Nicolosi, status?” One axe rested at Dolores’ front, the other two on her box.

  “Our Sire was backstabbed, perhaps by my captive. After tracing his uplink to here, they performed their coup de grace—the EMP likely destroyed every unprotected system in Nome.”

  “Her body temperature appears warm enough. She’s no android.”

  “Then an artificial lifeform,” Dani unfurled two arms, “which supports her resistance of dark-energy radiation and aptitude at network immersion. May I dissect?”

  “I don’t have a problem with it.” Jessica shrugged. “Peel back some skin. We have the meds.”

  Dillon fell off the platform onto his knees. “No fucking way! Jessie?”

  “I don’t get why she’d wait though. Why now? How’d she do it?”

  Dani hefted her second axe and herded blind-Dillon onto her box. “Most probable scenario would be a Sol-Union plant, sent to monitor this boy, and later, when the opportunity came, to observe Shannon and sabotage our efforts. She has likely been in contact with The Mission throughout, setting the trap for our most vulnerable moment.”

  “There is still a chance.” Nicky still carried the animals; neither complained, sniffing at Christy. “We must speak with him, to hear what he learned in those moments.”

  “The EMP erased all instances of Shannon,” Dolores sounded calm, resigned. “He replicated within unprotected systems. The Mark Threes can’t be revived, and he never directly hacked into a Six. He doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Except where he started, an instance valuable enough to be circumvented. The link to his omniscient network was not severed until the pulse.”

  “The Jetty would have been their first target—”

  “Their last!” Nicky said. “Not a missile has threatened the bridge to Asgard, and its EMP shield is second to none.”

  “One sec, back it up.” Jessica plopped her rear on Nicky’s, again reaching to scratch a pair of anxious bottoms. Even with their recent failure, she didn’t feel panicked, still thinking they could drive west out of Rose City. Hopefully they’d find some way to avoid Sol-Union capture by hugging the coast. However: “Shannon’s still alive?”

  If computer death was death all the same, he certainly appeared toasted.

  “Somewhat,” Nicky said. “If The Spire was Odin’s prison, then Shannon’s Jetty would be his tomb. No mobility, no escape, unless he is somehow transferred by external intervention. Yet there, he is safe by political and scientific necessity, rather than entrenchments. Yet, we can't promise this instance of Shannon has even heard of me, much less you, or knows about the rest of what has happened. Still...”

  “You said this would be the end—making or breaking us—we’re broken, ain’t we?”

  “To the core. But we still exist. Let us carry on.” Beyond Bunny’s screen, all she could see were the flashing lights of Nicky’s and the others’ visors. Jessica hoped their private conversation was constructive and not just more bitching over divergent ideologies.

  “Let’s. But how do we get upground?

  “The Rosebed does have walls and manual exits. But with all hyperlifts being disabled, it will take some time.”

  * * *

  Though Christy was Jessica’s issue of the hour, Dani and Dolores were the mystery of the minute. She wondered what the Double-D’s intentions were, especially once they reached street level.

  Dolores failed someone she loved, a mortal for sure. What Nicky put into his Sire and the Ragnarok, she’d put into a human individual or family. Someone had survived, at least until some bit of this catastrophe claimed their life. But how did she feel now? Was protecting real li
ves as hopeless as she said, or merely an excuse to run rampant on vengeance? All she seemed interested in was killing, a true Kali save for the purpose behind it. The FireBot couldn’t ignore that following Jessica would lead to more violence, so maybe they shared the same path, if separate goals.

  Dani spoke closer to computer-cliché than any advanced AI she’d ever met. Whether the bot considered Jessica's existence probable, improbable, or unimportant, she felt secure the bot's motivations were in the right place. Fulfilling a duty, a purpose, Dani understood her role, or rather had chosen it for herself. The fact none of the FireBots took orders was as much of a plus as a worry. Shannon and Hester’s directives accounted for human fallibility and sacrifice, all for a greater good. The only question then, was if Jessica could accept being sacrificed for their vision of the greater good.

  She wouldn’t die for it, nor abandon Ayla, or even Kahn.

  In any case, the Double-D’s led a column formation: Dolores at the head, then Dani with Dillon, and Nicky carrying the four behind them. Christy never stirred. This was all Nome had left, maybe an eighth of its population. Without the emergency relays the bots couldn’t talk to Holly or the others anymore, so there was no way to census the situation above ground.

  Their blind ride through the Rosebed hit a wall ages ago, literally, at the underground bank of Valance River. Jessica shivered, able to see her breath in the holo-screen’s glow, but not willing to risk Christy’s restraints to request more hot air from her chariot. How it got so cold was anyone’s guess—she heard Dillon sneeze through the wind.

  After their fifth deactivated lift to the surface, they slowed, visors blinking fireflies in the dark.

  “What is it,” Jessica said, “are we there yet?”

  “Nearly, Valkyrie. Two hundred yards north. We are discussing the proper plan of exit.”

  “Hit it fast. It’s all we got.”

  “Twenty percent chance of Dvorak confrontation on the stairs,” Dani said. “Ninety percent at the exit.”

  “Nicky alone can handle fifty of the fuckers. Dolores, blast through point and have Dani back you up. Just cut a perimeter, no need to hold it.”

  “But with Master Dillon—” Nicky said.

  “Stop, Dani. Let him off. We can squeeze on this box, Nicky can cross the pups around us so we don’t fall off. Dump some gallons; we don’t weight much.” The carrier with two wingmen. Easy.

  “You’re not so goddamn smart.” Dolores wriggled an axe. Was that supposed to be dismissive, or a threat? “Let the professionals—”

  “Professional what!” Nicky shouted, startling Jessica off her perch. “We save lives, that is what we were built to do. We know not of combat or tactics; we merely use our own intelligence to learn as we go. This is Verdandi’s call.”

  “Because she played some field hockey in high school? You’re more defective than I thought, Nicolosi.”

  “She has never failed me!”

  “The brothers, Nicky,” Jessica said, reaching for Dillon’s wrist. “They were on our turf and we got them killed. Calvin said we should’ve ran for the coast, wriggled back to Anchorage. Don’t listen to me because I say so. Listen because it’s your choice. I’ll do it alone—stay or go, that’s your choice.”

  “That was not your fault—”

  “Then whose! Yours?” She yanked Dillon to Nicky’s rear; he cursed as his head bounced off the balloon. “I am not the fucking law, Dolores, just cause I’m still here. I’d rather have you ten miles away doing whatever it is you want to do, than ten feet away being a shitty bitch who questions my every fucking suggestion. Got a better idea how to break through Dvoraks, go. I know your style. I know Nicky’s. I know Dvoraks. This is the fucking easy part!”

  “Your life to lose,” Dolores said. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

  “What’s your suggestion?” Jessica bristled at the press of Dillon’s arm and leg against hers. As much as she wanted some warmth, this situation was a bit much.

  “Same bit. I just hate that chip on your shoulder.”

  “Fucking typical. Get up the goddamn stairs already.”

  * * *

  Jessica stared at her holo-screen, more to focus her thoughts than for any offensive purpose. Dillon’s head touched hers, the fog of their breaths mixing, obscuring the image. Bunny stared straight back—ears drooping to his shoulders, stubby paws meeting at his chest—bored or annoyed, it looked the same.

  Flight by flight, they waited and cringed, suffering the clamor of treads on steel, Dolores’ axes, Ayla’s barks, and constant moaning. Their rear view offered squashed, squirming, or blade-hewn bodies. Dani’s twenty percent certainly seemed on the lively end. If this was any indication of what to expect above, there was reason for concern.

  “What were they?” Dillon shouted over the ruckus as Nicky screeched around the next landing.

  “How should I know? Technicians or hobos!” Jessica said, but neither seemed likely.

  “I don’t mean that. They’re all blank. No voices, not before or after. I don’t get it.” He shifted in his seat, gaze intent on the screen. Sounded like good news to her—maybe their ‘spirits’ were fading—except, what did that mean for Kahn and Jacob?

  “Last flight!” Dolores boomed from above. “The door’s open. Nicolosi, stay back, Dani, guard the exit!” Rapid-fire crunches, dings and thunks accented the words. Nicky held still, tipped at forty-five degrees. Their combined mass restrained by ice-cold tentacles felt the exact opposite of comfortable. Ayla thrashed in midair, getting Kahn worked up as a result.

  “Shhh, girl, just a little longer.”

  The action and moaning fell silent. Ayla’s yowls lowered first to growls, then to whimpers. Jessica felt it too. More black-eyed bullshit. Her head snapped towards Dillon, but found him gawking shoulder to shoulder, the monitor’s glow showing him wide-and-clear-eyed.

  The vanners—Jacob.

  “What do you want?” Dolores’ voice. Distant, but clear.

  “Let me go!” Jessica hissed. “She does not get to negotiate.” Not her life, Christy’s, Dillon’s, or the situation as a whole. The bots could deal with the politics. Real life and death was in her court, and hers alone.

  The echo of a single gunshot filled the stairwell. Sparks from the ricochet rained from above. What was undead-Anton packing again? She couldn’t remember, but she needed to be up there.

  “Valk—”

  “It’s not a suggestion. Let. Go. Ayla too.” The snake-arm loosened, easing her to the stairs before spilling Dillon down the last three steps. Jessica ignored him, reaching to calm Ayla before looking to her screen. Bunny displayed more personality by the hour, his eyes narrowed, head nodding. Kahn was a liability versus Kati and Fiona. “Keep Dillon back. Stay a landing behind us.”

  “But—”

  “I ain’t suicidal. Get ready to run for it.”

  Ayla dashed up the flight, but paused on the landing. Repeated twice more, gray daylight bounced around a corner to the final landing. The exit was an beyond an ‘L’ offset from the stairwell. At the final climb, Jessica searched for any sign of the Double-D’s: wreckage or char-marks. Cresting ground level, she squinted as night-vision ended its fade to pure normalcy.

  The door framed two blue balloons that obscured the field. She felt relieved they stood upright, but was completely puzzled at the tightness in her stomach and why they were waiting, unmoving. She heard Nicky follow to the final corner.

  “Miss Hall, I would have advised retreat, but there was a ninety-eight percent chance of fatal violence had you fled. Please forgive me.”

  Violence? So what. That’s how she survived. Jessica clicked Ayla to heel, creeping step over step down the exit corridor. “Dani. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, you have something of mine,” crooned a male voice. “Time to talk, Jessica. You’ve earned that much.”

  ~ 42 ~

  Clusterfucked

  November 31, 4124 — 6:14 PM

  Nom
e, Alaska—streetside. Valance River flowed a Bunny-shot away, the water rapid, but low. Jessica saw Rose City in the corner of her eye. The lowland suburban sprawl formed an eastern tri-point with west City Centre and the Bay District at the north. They’d almost made it to the harbor, the sparkling waters visible on the horizon.

  “You can lower your weapon, Jessica, I’m here to talk, unless you’d rather fight.”

  The man was tall, dressed in a spotless black suit and tie. His back to her, long, blond hair waved, bound in a low ponytail. At his face were eight helmeted soldiers. Their guns hung loose beside hands-behind-the-back stances.

  Next to him swayed a disheveled man wearing a local police uniform, unbuttoned, untucked, and completely shredded at the arms, pants, and waist-hem. That man’s short brown hair pointed at random angles, glistening in the sun. While his eyes were wild, they weren’t black.

  A small shuttle sat as their backdrop, and a bedroom-sized cube of metal beside it, tethered to its belly. More than the speaker, the soldiers, the crazy-looking local, and her own ruined city, Jessica had to force her eyes and mind away from the cube. Between blinks it seemed to glow, but glow black, the same impossible black she’d seen diving into The Mission. Whatever she felt in her belly, in her head—it all seemed drawn to the mute-gray block.

  “Feds,” she said, snapping her mind from its daze. “Nice of you to fucking join us.”

  “Please, James Carmichael, but I go by my surname.” He walked an about-face, his smile extremely disturbing—genuine, but with completely hollow eyes. “It’s my pleasure. For brave Ayla as well.”

  Outgunned and cornered between the awkward stairwell and Valance River…she hoped Nicky stayed—