Absorption: Phase 03 (The Eighteenth Shadow)

by Grafton, Jon Lee

  I used to care for things besides Vision...

  No! The wild howls echoing through the woods a few minutes earlier had put her nerves on edge. Her mind was drifting to bad places. Places the man in her dreams would not like. She tried to focus.

  See with Vision.

  Gonzales was lonesome. This hunt in particular made her desperately miss Stanley Jenks and Phillip Tramm. The three volunteer narcs had been a great team back in the day. Gonzales became… unsettled after Jenks and Tramm vanished. She had quit hunting for months. Until people at CNED started talking, so Gonzales finally went out again as a lone wolf.

  This morning, the memories had come unbidden with the dawn. Reports said Jenks and Tramm disappeared on the west side of town near Clinton Lake, five years past.

  Lies. They were hunting here. These woods. Out of this cemetery.

  She knew, because they had asked her to come along the night before. Family obligations had kept Gonzales home and she bowed out of the evening hunt.

  Revenge is near, brothers.

  Gonzales had gotten lucky, finding a spot with a clear view of the barn behind the fallen oak. The low-hanging branches of another, younger tree dangled overhead. It was a concealed, defensible fire position. Jenks and Tramm would be proud.

  I wish Sapet would ping back.

  The concussion blasters had to be his team.

  At least part of this commission will be mine.

  The Pleasium she had popped at her hovtruck was kicking in. The warm, familiar rush began obliterating any anxieties. Gonzales felt her confidence swell, anger clarifying intent.

  Earn with Vision.

  A whole pumpkin farm potentially dedicated to hiding a super still. The commission… she was still salivating over the details of the morning briefing.

  There was no time to wait for orders from Sapet.

  Too many unknowns, ongoing tech issues. Gonzales couldn’t think of a day in her life when the signal from the holostream wasn’t green. This morning her HUD had been black since she docked. Even before the ping came through from the director that agents should go in coms to airplane.

  Also strange.

  Gonzales was tightening her boot laces as her eyes noticed the motion of the other merc. He was line of sight, fifty meters north, just come down from the cemetery trying to slink through the trees.

  Vaxon Prule. CNED’s original lone wolf…

  He would not see her camouflaged in the underbrush. She would get the first confirmed shot. Gonzales let Prule move on and refocused her view of the driveway. The three men who had just come out of the barn were standing there in the open, now with several dogs. Only one dude in a cowboy hat held a rifle.

  Time for one of you dogs to die.

  She retrained her eye through the crosshairs. Thankfully, gunpowder, bullets and her old school 600mm telescopic glass scope were not affected by whatever issues were blocking the stream. The closest Rottweiler had turned and approached the trees. It was growling. Had it heard her? Smelled her?

  Impossible.

  She had masked with deer pheromone.

  It probably heard Prule. He’s going to shut this window.

  Gonzales pulled the trigger.

  The .30 caliber rifle recoiled with a friendly punch. When she brought her eye back to the scope, the cursed dog was just standing there. Had she missed? No. It’s head was bleeding. Metal.

  The rumors! A metal Fido?

  She could hear distant screaming.

  Sapet didn’t give us the full story. Disgusting.

  She adjusted her telescopic sight, panned left. She stopped when she saw a pool of blood spreading over the pavement. One of the shiners was down, his arm ripped off at the shoulder.

  Ricochet? No…

  Gonzales looked up. She bit her lip to keep it from shaking. She thought of her daughter.

  That bullet was bar-coded. Trajectory trace will show, but…

  Gonzales tapped her combud, her heart pounding faster than she would have liked.

  It’s not the first person you’ve shot.

  She whispered, “Gonzales to Sapet.”

  Her bud responded immediately, the computer’s vocal avatar speaking calmly in her ear, “Director Sapet is unavailable. Would you like to ping another address?”

  “Detective Dennis Slopes,” she said quietly.

  “Encrypted transmission, emergency only,” said her com. “Password requested please.”

  Gonzales sighed. She did not like the prospect.

  Slopes is a Federal man.

  He scared her.

  But Sapet specifically said to contact Slopes if things got bad.

  She had just shot a civilian. The director was MIA.

  “Password is puzzler47.”

  “Pinging. Please wait.”

  Gonzales started. Something moved again in the brush. Something bigger.

  Feral hog maybe.

  An itchy band of nervous sweat traced down the back of her neck. The com clicked as the password was verified. She was surprised at how quickly Detective Slopes responded.

  His voice was syrupy, “Dennis Slopes here. How may I help you, Agent Gonzales?”

  “Detective Slopes? CNED Gonzales here.”

  “Caller ID was invented 113 years ago, agent.”

  I detest you.

  “Sir! Director Sapet’s com is black. He said to ping you if there was an emergency. I just shot a boozebum working this still you turned us onto!”

  Slopes tone shifted towards the dismal, “Are you seriously pinging me this filth? Where’s Sapet? I stopped getting telem from his com seven minutes ago.”

  “I don’t know where he is. Local coms aren’t lighting. Even my holotab is mixing readings, four of us dead, five, then none, then we’re on the map, next thing we’re not. Sky’s blowing crazy, detective. There’s six drones down. Sheriff’s marching cyborgs over the field now. I heard Sapet’s concussion cannon fire a while back.”

  Slopes asked in a vile whisper, “Is the man you shot dead?”

  Gonzales exclaimed, “I didn’t shoot him! I wanted to get first fire bonus, so I shot a Fido with a pancake round! It should have left a tunnel in that polymer, but this bot was made of metal.”

  Slopes’ voice howled in her ear, “Shut your mouth! You’re a stupid, filthy little kitty!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t care about the Fido, don’t care, don’t care… Did you kill a man or not, citizen!?” he spat back.

  Gonzales looked through her scope frantically, “I can’t see! There’s another dog standing over the body, they’re laying on him. There’s blood everyplace.”

  “You are a bad, bad pussy cat!” said Slopes’ sugared, wet voice.

  “With all due respect, sir, go fuck yourself!” said Gonzales angrily. “I know how this floats. You sent us out here. I’m just following protocol!”

  Slopes hissed malevolently, “I’d suggest you find your superior and report in person…” His voice slowed and clarified, “For the record, Agent Gonzales, I don’t know why you pinged my personal Ipv7. You must have the wrong information about any alleged, nonofficial communication with Director Sapet. If you ping this address again, I will be forced to register a harassment charge. Goodbye!”

  The com went black. Gonzales’ eyes nearly burst from her face.

  Goodbye!? How dare…! Slopes behaves like a citizen with no loyalty.

  She would take plenty of time at the next CNED town hall. Right now she had to move. She had taken her shot. Something tussled in the brambles again. Sounds of baying and dogs, snarls and ripping metal were coming from far away in the pumpkin field.

  Bot fight, must be.

  With HUD down she was too far away to see without her eye through the scope. The fighting Fidos sounded like a hovcar accident, horses galloping over well-trodden earth. She had to gain a new vantage! Gonzales shouldered her rifle and prepared to stand.

  A blood covered woman emerged from behind a wild forsythia b
ush three meters off. The woman’s hair was raven black, skin bloody, her t-shirt and baggy sweats littered with leaves and things of the forest.

  How could I let someone sneak up on me?

  Gonzales dropped her rifle into firing position. Too late. A Coyote came like a gray streak from behind the fallen tree, pinning her leg to the ground with its jaws. The force was incredible.

  “Ahwwwhh…!” she screamed, suddenly enraged by the sight of the forest woman.

  Thoughts flashed.

  The fugitive girl.

  She winced as the single Coyote reset its grip on her ankle.

  How could such a small borg be so strong?

  “Get your Fido off me, cunt!” she raged, sweating with pain and fury. “You’re messing with the wrong bitch!”

  Five more coyotes materialized. Gonzales shivered. The cyborgs’ muzzles were wet with red. They snarled and snapped, bearing metal teeth.

  Gonzales reached up, depressing the ridge in front of her ear where the combud was located, “Activate CNED emergency beacon.”

  The woman made no move to stop her.

  Shiner trash.

  Gonzales winced with pain. The Coyote’s jaws on her boot felt like a hot vice. She knew the borg could crush her bones at will. The other five circled menacingly, pressing her back against the fallen oak with wicked, electric blue eyes.

  Her combud responded placidly, “CNED emergency beacon service is not available at this time. Have a good day.”

  Gonzales closed her eyes and realized she was going to die.

  The wild, bloody girl still had not spoken. She just stood there, eyes black and shining. She studied Gonzales the way a bird studies an insect, like she wanted to read her mind. The woman nodded at the Coyote pinning her leg and for a brief, beautiful moment of relief, the creature’s jaws let go of her boot. Then she screamed with fresh agony as the cyborg’s silver claws crushed down on her shin, teeth sinking back into flesh and bending her bones.

  “Pleeeease!” screamed Gonzales.

  She heard her own fibula snap like a twig.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she implored, “I’m sorry! I have children!”

  At that, the girl stepped closer, standing over her, a forest blood queen arisen.

  Her voice was young, like a teenager’s, “Me too.” She looked at the coyotes, then back at Gonzales, “And lady, you’re the third person to call me a cunt today. Do you know what that means?”

  “I’m sorry!” Gonzales’ leg felt like it was on fire. “Please, I’m sorry! I think my leg is broken.”

  The madwoman donned a sinister scowl, “It means… I’ve reached my daily cunt quota.”

  Then, as it seemed she was turning to walk away, another shot rang out down the hill to the north.

  Vaxon Prule.

  Gonzales watched the young woman recoil, wincing as she grabbed the sides of her head. A look of horror consumed the face that had only moments ago been so composed. The woman shot Gonzales a glance of pity, dismay, then dashed away into the trees.

  She’s running off. There’s a chance!

  It was the last thought the CNED mercenary had.

  The Coyotes descended. The pack pinned her against earth and fallen oak, while the one closest to Gonzales’ head drove its teeth into the back of her neck, pulling the life from her body. Along with the majority of her spinal column.

  Dorothy rushed from the aquarium to meet her husband at the barn’s entrance. Hugo had just been shot. Absent from control, Dorothy missed the telemetry that began pouring in from SNOTRA.

  SNOTRA’S velocity was 87.26 kph as she reached the edge of the woods. She slowed to dash and duck through the thick underbrush. The cyborg had a singular purpose; disabling the CNED agent who had shot her.

  Joan’s voice provided the borg with consistent vocal confirmation of known factors, Traveling towards primary target.

  When SNOTRA arrived, Agent Mikala Gonzales had already been eliminated.

  Tara Dean. Coyote assault.

  The new target’s designation, Vaxon Prule, flashed across SNOTRA’s HUD. The name was discarded. SNOTRA was not concerned with the designations of these invaders.

  Vaxon Prule’s .30 caliber, tungsten-jacketed ammunition was reinforced with a self-sharpening depleted uranium core designed to cut through polyethylene and Kevlar. Until the very last seconds of his life, all the CNED merc could see were saplings and bushes tossing to and fro as a black shape rocketed towards his fire position. Prule knew it was a Fido. Like Gonzales, Prule soon realized he was going to die. He took his shot when the black shape was three meters off.

  Zero effect.

  SNOTRA deflected the bullet with her skull without breaking pace. The cyborg’s armored eyelids flashed shut, protecting the precious vidorbs. .39 meters from target, SNOTRA made a minor trajectory adjustment so the man’s torso would not affect the efficiency of her passing. She angled her head. Her diamond tipped canines severed the carotid artery in Vaxon Prule’s neck and shattered cervical vertebrae 3 – 6.

  Secondary target eliminated, awaiting data exchange.

  Seven more CNED mercenaries met a similar fate over the next 183 seconds before SNOTRA finally stopped running, deep in the cover of trees, 208.46 meters from the hovroad. Compared to the mercenaries unfortunate enough to encounter Tara Dean and the Coyotes, SNOTRA’S deaths were practically surgical. Coroners would determine that a single, devastating laceration to the spinal column killed the subjects instantaneously.

  SNOTRA scanned her surroundings. A 13.8 cm section of BIOSKIN© on the left side of her skull was torn away by the bullets of Mikala Gonzales and Vaxon Prule. The shredded flesh hung wetly across her ear.

  Auditory scans compromised. Remove damaged flesh.

  The cyborg walked beside a large walnut tree and vigorously rubbed her head against the bark, tearing the ripped section of BIOSKIN© free. SNOTRA snarled at the unpleasant sensation until her onboard nanobots had finished deadening the organic nerve endings.

  She carried on.

  6.4 meters away, two squirrels chased one another across the forest floor. They froze as they saw her, tails twitching, then scampered into the safety of the higher branches. A flock of nine Canadian geese flew overhead. Her eyes flashed red, scanning the birds. Organic.

  She then raised her head further. Time to make a scheduled relay with the base drone. She watched the black orb dip smoothly out of the clouds. The oblong robot hovered for six seconds, pushing tactical data SNOTRA could not obtain from the ground over their intrastream.

  19.2 kilometers to the east, SNOTRA caught the sound of The KC Southern Prairie Flier maglev train flying across County Hovroad 1500 heading west to east. She turned her head to analyze. 883 kph. 184 passengers to Kansas City.

  Non-applicable, discard.

  The cyborg noted additional private security drones belonging to Purple Tree Farms had gathered at the southwestern perimeter of the adjacent farm.

  Firewall bypass stable, discard.

  Motion alerts due south.

  Applicable, investigate.

  A herd of deer.

  Scan accuracy 42%. Tree cover. Warning. Recommend stealth mode activation.

  The drone flashed a final red-spectrum holotransmission, then floated back into the clouds. SNOTRA crouched and continued along the trail, moving more carefully, steps panther silent. Minor adjustments were made to the placement of each paw, avoiding the disturbance of even a single fallen twig. The drizzling rain pattered on the forest canopy, providing welcome auditory camouflage.

  The drone placed the deer in a cluster, seventeen meters away in a clearing. They did not register on a secondary IR scan for body heat.

  Processing alternative hypotheses. Next sync in 145.6 seconds.

  The clearing on the far side of the hill near the hovroad was through a standard patrol route. The small Rottweiler approached with caution.

  Alternative hypotheses complete. Likelihood of CNED mercenaries employing digital camoufl
age calculated at 87%. 20 armed CNED in 1 location; L3 threat. Recon approach.

  SNOTRA padded to the edge of the clearing and poked her nose through a shallow stand of winged sumac, which had turned colors for autumn. A few red leaves fell off as she brushed against them.

  Confirming visual ID. CNED agents / negative.

  The animals in the clearing had surprisingly not noticed the Rottweiler’s approach.

  Then she pushed aside the sumac.

  The nearest caught the motion of a single, wet leaf falling to the ground. The deer snapped its head in SNOTRA’S direction as she pushed further in to get a full spectrum scan.

  All twenty deer snarled and bore their silver-black teeth.

  Mortal threat. Disengage. Scan error. Flight response.

  SNOTRA hesitated another 1.2 seconds. Her CPU processed the conflicting data. She executed emergency flight, transferring maximum power to her legs. The Rottweiler turned and ripped away through the labyrinth of trees she knew every centimeter of.

  The platoon of RIOT Dobermans in the clearing howled and gave ferocious chase, moving in tandem like mechanical brown shadows. They were not as strong as SNOTRA, but they were as fast. The sound of their hunt was frightful, like hundreds of electric knives slicing the air.

  SNOTRA could hear the chorus of nanogears grinding behind her, underlying their song of metallic snarls as the Dobermans burst from the clearing, intent on dismembering her alive.

  Anonymous emergency holoscript pinged to all Lawrence, KS, CNED affiliates / timestamp 2082.10.16_10:59 [recovered after event] LAWRENCE CNED AFFILIATES CURRENTLY HUNTING ON PRIVATE PROPERTY EAST ADJACENCY OAK HILL CEMETERY, RECOMMENDED EXIT. LIFE THREATENING CONDITIONS. BE ADVISED. YOU ARE OUT OF OFFICIAL JURISDICTION. AGENTS RESPONSIBLE FOR SELF PRESERVATION. RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE EVAC / REPORTS OF LIFE THREATENING TECH. THIS SCRIPT WILL BE AVAILABLE ON CNED SHADOW CLOUD.LAW FOR ANOTHER 119 SECONDS MARK 0:01.

  10:56 am – One Hour Four Minutes Before Event.

  Dorothy ignored Joan and muted the klaxon. She ran to William. She was transfixed by the blood. William’s t-shirt was crimson, his blue jeans glistened black. A grimace crossed her husband’s face as he set Hugo’s body on the asphalt and she swallowed her shock.