The Verse of Sibilant Shadows: A set of tales from the Irrational Worlds

by JM Guillen

  That seemed odd. Most of our weaponry either required a Crown synch or used viral mecha. So today—

  He nodded. Tangler only. It’s an odd packet. I don’t need near the Designate clearances that I typically do. Means I’ll be able to mix things up more quickly, have more authority on the fly.

  There was something he wasn’t saying. That’s good for us, at least.

  He smiled, but it was a rueful grin. Sure. Sure it is. Just makes a man think. Interesting time to let up on the reins a bit.

  I thought back to all the packets I’d had available. It did feel like the Facility was allowing us more than standard resources. Feels a bit like this is more than a typical insertion, doesn’t it?

  Wyatt nodded. I kinda figgered you’d go all ninja on me, and so I took the upgrade. It means that if I wanted a gun, I’d be shootin’ offa skill alone, no fancy tech. He shrugged. Didn’t seem like it’d be worth the weight, not when Rosie here could just as easily take someone out.

  It made sense. I had seen Wyatt take down Irrats with the tangler alone plenty of times. We walked in silence back to the sedan. Anya popped the truck for Wyatt’s gear. I set the katanas in the back as well.

  I thought Michael might drive. Anya’s link seemed a touch distracted. I’ve been looking over telemetry readings, and I’d like to continue that as we approach.

  Fine by me. Wyatt’s grin transmitted over the link. As long as I can nap on the way, I don’t care.

  If you’re asleep, I won’t have to listen to your rambling. I grinned back at him. Seems perfect all around.

  12

  “STOP!” We were literally in the middle of nowhere when Anya screamed.

  It was strange. I could easily count the number of times I had actually heard Anya’s voice. Like most Preceptors, she seemed far more comfortable using the link. As the world shifted around us, the thing that stuck in my mind was her voice. Emotion in Anya’s voice simply never happened, but fear and confusion were threaded through her scream.

  Somehow, her voice made even those things lovely.

  “Axiomatic trigger!” Anya was twisting madly in her seat, her eyes closed. “It’s a hidden snare! Bishop, you were—”

  Moments before, Anya had been silently sitting at my side with the occasional head twitch and that marionette-like finger motion that all Preceptors did while viewing telemetry, as if she were playing a harp that wasn’t there. I was driving, on my second cigarette, looking amazingly cool as I smoked and drove beneath a sunset sky. Wyatt lay in the back, snoring as promised.

  Then, she screamed.

  Her cry was punctuated with a ringing cacophony, and my skull split open. For a moment, it was as if the world wavered around us, all the more shocking for its suddenness.

  I jerked, almost spinning the car to the side. I felt the change, as if for a moment, we were all underwater and had embers in our bones. Everything slowed, and my mind felt full of mud.

  Bishop! Wyatt’s link was confused, half-jerked from sleep. Where are—?

  Then we were through. For an instant, we were driving somewhere else entirely. The world flickered around us, between the desert and— somewhere empty.

  Somewhere forlorn. Somewhere dark with fires in the distance.

  “Rationality negative thirteen! Negative twenty-one! Negative thirty-four!” Hearing Anya screaming axiomatic statistics at us didn’t seem to matter or mean anything. If I had given it a moment’s thought, I would have realized that her panic, voiced aloud, probably did as much to throw me off center as anything else.

  I had never seen Anya afraid.

  Even given all that, I couldn’t comfort her now. All my focus was on the road in front of us.

  As if the air were boiling, it writhed and swirled in front of us with the sky momentarily darkening to a sickening violet and then a smothering darkness. For an instant, there were broken trees, colossal limbless things that reached for the sky.

  Then we were shrouded in hungry, oppressive night. I flicked on the car’s headlights, but it took my eyes a moment to adjust.

  No, not night. We were in a cavern.

  The trees weren’t trees at all, but thick, black stone columns that stretched to a ceiling far out of sight. From a gargantuan chasm off in the distance, a hungry, orange glow flickered, the only light. I could hear the loud grinding of machinery but did not see it anywhere.

  A column loomed in front of us. I slammed on the breaks, trying to skid away from it.

  Bishop! Wyatt’s link was panicked, but I truly didn’t have time to listen. I spun the wheel as hard as I could, but it was no use.

  The front of our car crumbled into the column, and we stopped catastrophically short on impact. Anya and I were buckled in, but Wyatt rolled forward and hit the seat with a hard thump.

  Then, I saw the gleaming, furious eyes. They shone with hatred like stark, burning coals in the darkness.

  I shook my head, peering through the windshield to try to get my bearings.

  It was dark, darker now that one of the headlights had smashed. I couldn’t see the walls of the cavern, although I could see the chasm, burning with a hungry fire. The sounds of machinery were louder, but I could not see it.

  My focus centered on the creatures appearing from the gloom around us.

  Directly in front of us, one of them peered at us. The horrifying, gorilla-shaped creature lumbered toward the car, with those burning, fiery, hateful eyes. They seemed empty, hollow, mad.

  The creature was at least four meters high and gray, with thick, knotted muscle. It must have weighed five or six hundred kilograms. Twisting brands, unlike any writing I’d ever seen, were burned into the creature’s skin. They had a pattern to them, however, a hypnotic shifting that caught the eye.

  It only wore a long loincloth, tattered and dirty. It was brandishing a vaguely hammer-shaped object, something that looked the size of a small tree.

  —Sub-topia! Anya was linking madly, but I was not following. Life forms detected, classification unknown! We are back to negative thirty-two… thirty one—!

  “Fuck this.” Wyatt opened the door and started to step from the backseat. I remembered suddenly that all his gear was in the trunk and hit the release.

  Unfortunately, one of the lumbering creatures had reached the car. Wyatt hurled himself back inside, pulling the door shut just before a massive fist caved it.

  Yer the only one geared, Hoss.

  Right. I glanced into the mirror as one of them shoved Wyatt’s door, and the car slid a few feet. Because kinetic disruptors are going to do more than tickle something that size.

  The entire world flickered back to Nevada for an instant, all red sand and open sky. Then, like changing stations on the radio, we were back in the darkness.

  It was nauseating.

  We are at negative thirty-one. It’s stabilizing. Anya’s link was cooling, almost calm. We are not fully immersed in the secondary topia. If Wyatt can secure the T-90, together we can possibly shift us back to Rational space.

  The car slid again with another strike from one of the creatures.

  I have dampener grenades? I sent the link almost hopefully. They helped me with the first snare—

  Not the same. I could feel the certainty in Anya’s link. You simply altered Rationality so you could find your way back through. This topia isn’t stable and is much further from baseline. We need to create a stasis zone where the axioms average to Rationality zero. This place will reject that axiomatic ratio, and we will drift to rational space.

  She’s right about the stability, Hoss. We’ll separate like oil and water. Wyatt’s link was grim. It’s complex, but we can do it. I just need my gear.

  I pulled my kinetic disruptors, one in each hand. Then I eased the door latch open, not quite disengaging it.

  Fine. But I don’t know that I can do much. Whatever they are, I bet they are capable of taking a hit. I’ll be a distraction at best.

  Be a good one. Wyatt was solemn. Keep them busy, and I�
�ll grab the tangler. From here, me and the princess should be able to get us home.

  I sighed.

  Copy that.

  I opened the door and sprung out. At the last possible second, I remembered the diaphanic emitter.

  I desperately hoped it would work.

  It was mostly a matter of axiomatic differences. The laws of reality could function drastically differently in alternate topias. I had no way of knowing if light even functioned the same way. What if it didn’t and the emitter couldn’t quite handle it? What if I burned out part of my Crown because light was a little bit more wave than particle in this place?

  Well, that would mean that one of these gargantuan mutant Lord of the Rings rejects would likely put his fist through my head.

  So I leapt, tucked, and rolled. I felt the Adept kick up more grace and dexterity than plain ol’ non-smoking Michael Bishop could ever call on.

  I engaged the emitter.

  It worked.

  Even as the emitter functioned, I could still see myself. I had spent many an hour wondering how that was; after all, I wasn’t supposed to interact with light while it was engaged. Did the emitter simply make an exception for my own eyes? Or was it the Crown creating a visual representation for me?

  In the end, it didn’t matter.

  There was always a slight coolness when the emitter was functioning, almost as if light itself no longer heated my skin. I felt it wash over me and took a few steps left. Two of the creatures, which had been closing on me, stopped, confused.

  “Beh leii. Hamnd.” One of them spoke to the other, his voice like stones grating together. “Orris ruut bhaad.”

  They looked again at where I had just been. The one that had spoken sniffed at the still, sour air.

  For a moment, the eldritch markings on the creature’s skin caught my attention. They did seem to shift, to writhe of their own accord, and yet they were brands, burnt into the creature’s hide.

  Anya, do we have any intel on these markings on their skin?

  No, Michael. Her link was patronizing. There are over seventeen thousand classifications of aberrations, and without access to the Lattice—

  Then, I saw the creature’s hide squirm. My eyes widened.

  Anya, I think—

  It happened again, and I stared in horror.

  Something shifted beneath the creature’s skin, moving between the muscle and the flesh like a thick serpent. I watched in horror as it writhed along the behemoth’s side before disappearing into its abdomen.

  Then, the one that was sniffing the air turned its flat face toward me, its eyes searching.

  Oh, fuck no.

  I aimed one of the disruptors at the ground between them. I used my thumb to kick the force to its highest setting and most focused field. I fired.

  I was taking no chances. An invisible bolt of kinetic force tore into the ground, and there was a small explosion between the two. It blew a hole the size of a basketball in the ground.

  Both of the creatures roared and leapt away from the hole. A third turned to look on, and I spun, almost without thinking. I fired one of the disruptors squarely at its chest. The thing flew backward five meters. It lay on the ground, moving weakly.

  The disruptors are far more powerful than anticipated, Michael. Anya’s link was once again maddeningly calm. You likely just liquefied some internal organs.

  Your physics lessons are always appreciated, Anya. I slunk to the side of one of the creatures, doing my best to be slow and cautious. This wasn’t home; I had no guarantee that the emitter would properly mask sound. That aside, there’s something else here… something inside them. I knew the link would convey my horror.

  Copy that, Bishop. Wyatt’s link was filled with awe and disgust. I can see it in one over here. It’s like thick cables running through them, just below their skin. It’s moving.

  Assets. Anya’s link was crisp, almost curt. These aberrations may be host bodies for some kind of phage. I could feel her specifically maintain calm as she linked. Many Irrational species seek host bodies and—

  And they can fuck right off. My heart was hammered against my ribs. Of all the fates that could befall an Asset, being a host body was one of the more horrifying.

  I suddenly felt quite vulnerable.

  Quietly I stepped behind the behemoth I had downed and aimed both pistols at the back of its head. When I fired, I heard its skull crack.

  The monstrosity jerked twice, then collapsed against the dark stone ground.

  The car suddenly became much less interesting to the creatures. They were all watching, rapt, as one of their own was murdered by invisible kinetic explosions. When he shuddered, one of them began a hoarse, bellowing cry that echoed through the cavern.

  “QARVAAA!” The word was impossibly loud. “QARVAAA DIM’LO!”

  Bishop… I could feel the warning in Wyatt’s link.

  Copy that, Wyatt. If you’re going to get your gear, now might be the time.

  I hadn’t even finished the thought before he was on the move. Wyatt opened the door and then crept toward the back of the car. Two more of the gigantic creatures took up the strange cry, and the world flickered around us again. We returned to the desert for a moment but then flickered back to the deep darkness.

  They’ll hear me the moment I set off ol’ Rosie. Wyatt was ducked behind the car. Tangler’s reading that we’re still at neg thirty one, unstable, so I can shift some things. I need to place about five spikes to get us back to Rationality.

  It’s not just the spikes, Wyatt. You’ll need them spaced properly. I felt the small twitch as Anya sent a patch. This should help.

  Five glowing green indicators settled within my field of vision.

  Copy that, Anya. I could feel Wyatt’s grudging respect through my Crown.

  What are they doing? I turned to look at the thick, powerful creatures. Six of them had thrown their heads back, making the forlorn cry. Are they mourning?

  I had just finished the thought when the corpse of the one I had killed caught my eye. The movement under its flesh made my skin crawl.

  Involuntarily, I took one horrified step back.

  Anya linked, as concise as ever. We aren’t truly stable at this level of Rationality. I have concerns that we need to act as quickly as possible.

  Right. Wyatt moved a few feet around the side of the car. Let’s just end this, Bishop, and then we’ll move on.

  Wyatt? Do you see this? I took another step back from the corpse.

  Anya cut in. Wyatt, I don’t know how this topia intersects with ours, but it’s extremely unstable. If we have further axiomatic drift, we’ll need more than the tangler to return.

  Copy that. Wyatt looked around, trying to gauge the creature’s movements. Any kind of time-frame regarding drift?

  Wyatt, I strongly suggest you do whatever you must to place your spikes as quickly as possible.

  In that moment the corpse exploded in a spray of warm, crimson viscera.

  I cried out in surprise, leaping backward as I was partially coated in the warm globs of thick wetness. I stumbled as I did, and it was probably only the Adept that kept me from landing on my ass.

  What—? Wyatt’s link went dead as he got a good look on what was happening.

  I thought I might retch.

  Sinewy black tentacles, a mass of thin strands and others as thick as my wrist, burst from the corpse. At first, I couldn’t make out any center body, only hooked and fanged feelers as they ripped their way free from the creature’s chest or tore their way from the mouth and nostrils.

  Vyriim! Class seven aberrations!— Anya’s link hit my crown hard. Bishop you need—!

  I was already sprinting away from the mass of tentacles gathering above the corpse. The creature had a body, it seemed, a composite of individual lengths, twisting and forming together. Some had writhing hooks on the end, while others had tiny little maws or pods that held ancient, mad eyes.

  The stench of it was revolting, nauseating.
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  I was so focused on getting away from the Vyriim that it never occurred to me that I might be splattered with gore and therefore slightly visible. As I ran toward the car, one of the first host creatures I had seen swung at me with his maul, a great wooden thing the size of a tree.

  Only the speed and grace of the Adept kept me from being killed with that single stroke. With no further concern for caution or subtlety, I began firing on the lumbering gray behemoths.

  Then, I heard the keening, high-pitched whir of Wyatt’s tangler. It built up power and made a loud WHUF as he set the first spike, shooting directly into the ground.

  The world rippled around him.

  The tangler’s spikes were created from a tungsten alloy yet were axiomatically programmed to disintegrate after a certain period of time. Until they did, the spike would subtly alter the axioms within its given range. I didn’t understand the tangler’s complex interplay of mathematics, physics, and chemistry, but Wyatt was an artist with the device.

  That’s negative eleven. I could almost hear relief in Anya’s link. You need a larger range on the next one, Wyatt. The anomaly is wider than the car.

  I know my business. Wyatt wasn’t being gruff with Anya; he was simply intently focused on his readouts. I’m gonna have to step away from the car, Hoss.

  I gritted my teeth. I don’t know how wise that is. Two of the creatures had noticed him after he placed the first spike. One of them snarled at Wyatt with a huge maw full of long teeth.

  I shot the creature between the shoulder blades, hurling it forward. This actually sent it slightly in Wyatt’s direction, but injured and startled, it began that high-pitched keen again.

  Bishop! I could hear the intense alarm in Anya’s link, and I spun. As I did, I saw the tentacles swimming right for me.

  It was difficult to describe their movement through the air; it was beautiful after a fashion. They were thickest in their center, where they all seemed to intertwine together. There were five—no, six—of them with maw apertures that were crowded together, snapping and hissing. Other tentacles reached for me as it came, reminding me of a nightmarish squid.