“Ameluan is taking too long. Is it possible to do a quick in and out to find out what’s going on?” he said after half an hour passed.
“Yes,” Sorina said.
“This could compromise our position,” Athame warned.
“If it does, you can blame me. This waiting is driving me crazy.”
Patience, if we get found out—oh, never mind, Prospero said as he forced the door open. Blue light spilled through the doorway, and the smell of cool, dry, ozone-laced air mixed with the musty stink of the maintenance corridor. He crouched down further and poked his head into the room, looking around at the maze of server columns.
“We’re clear, come on.” He moved into the room.
Sorina followed first, then Athame, who closed the door behind them. He gave her a look.
“The alarms will trigger if the humidity rises too high in this chamber. There are sensors I noted the last time we were here.”
“As long as we can get back out I guess it doesn’t matter,” he said. Off to his right, Sorina walked to one of the towers and placed a hand on its surface.
“Induction interface is good. I am in.”
“Where is he?” Nero asked looking around. The whispers of the coolant system among the towers sounded like a thousand secret conversations being held all at once. It made the hair go up on the back of his neck.
“I am checking,” she said in her accented Solan. “Login activated a security alert. I think I may have tripped an alarm.” Sorina frowned. “It does not look like Ameluan uploaded the virus packet.”
He took a deep breath, doing his best to concentrate despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Okay, can you do it?”
“I am,” she responded.
“Nero, I am detecting seismic readings coming from the outer hallway,” Athame stated. “Someone is approaching. We should retreat to the maintenance corridor.”
“Just a minute,” he said.
Nero, I advise you listen to Athame, Prospero added.
“Just a minute,” he repeated, annoyed that his counterpart was ignoring the urgency with which they needed the viruses in place. The sound of doors sliding open hissed in the air.
Reflexes more than anything else made him duck behind a server tower and bring his weapon to bare in the sound’s direction.
“Nero, I—” Sorina whispered, hesitating mid-sentence. “I need more time.”
“Take all you need.”
“That is not advisable,” Athame stated.
He heard footsteps approaching and glanced at her. She was behind a server column three over from his. Her pistol was still in its holster, and she looked ready to engage in hand to hand combat. That reminded him that he had other, less noisy options to take care of the interloper. He put his gun back in its holster and drew the thermal knife from his belt. He couldn’t help the smile the blade’s familiar weight put on his face. If he had any doubts about it being his, they were dispelled in that moment. He put his thumb over the trigger switch and waited, listening to the tense breathing of the being approaching them through the server forest.
A moment of dizziness washed over him.
Nero, move!
He did.
He spun around from behind the server on swift and silent feet, heading straight for where he thought the VoQuana was. They had only one chance. If the VoQuana decided to act instead of puzzling out what it sensed in this room, the whole ziggurat could be alerted. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if they had every Maskhim in the place descending on them. He had to make it before that happened. He had to.
The VoQuana came into view a second later. She half-turned her wiry body towards him before he came within arm’s reach. Her small mouth dropped open as he flipped the switch on the thermal blade and thrust his fist forward. Its edge went from cold to white hot en route and struck the VoQuana’s throat with a sound like tearing paper. He spun after the attack, using his momentum to bring the blade around and through the back of her neck. He felt a slight resistance when his weapon sliced through skin and bone, and he stepped back into a combat crouch. She tried to turn and bring him back into her view, but the motion destabilized her head, and it tumbled off her shoulders slamming into the floor with a dull, wet thud. The body joined it a moment later.
Nero switched off the blade. Had he been in time?
A klaxon alarm sounded twice, then came back as a continuous din.
“Guess not.” He drew his pistol. “There’s no sense in stealth now. Athame, guard the door. Sorina, can you send a message to Kae?”
“The viruses are infiltrating the system, once they are live, yes.”
“As soon as you can, ask him to get his ass over here.” He hoped it would be in time.
“Yes, Nero,” she said. “Wait, there is someone in the system. They are trying to purge the viruses.”
“Athame?”
“Likely Login,” she responded coming out from behind the server pylons.
Well, that’s just wonderful, Prospero said.
“Fuck.” Nero gritted his teeth. He knew he had to do something or they would be trapped on this damned world. But what? How could he salvage the mission and rescue Ameluan? Prospero, I need ideas!
Working on it. In the meanwhile I suggest you aid Athame at the door, he responded. I am in the system now as well, and I believe there are Maskhim entering the corridor.
He moved over to the four slats of the server-room door. Athame stood like a statue before it, holding her pistol at the curve of her hip.
“They are assembling outside for an assault,” she messaged him. “Switch to your electromagnetic senses. I intend a preemptive attack.”
Do it, he told Prospero, who activated the millions of tiny sensors in his skin while extending his own electromagnetic field outward. He felt the regular flux of the servers behind him as waves caressing his back. Ahead, the walls became a distortion in his visual field, like a layer of fog through which he could both see and feel the gray shadows of the Maskhim assembling with their laser-rods in hand. There were five in front of the door already with several more pressing themselves against the walls on either side.
Fuck that’s a lot of them, he thought.
“I calculate we will have five to ten seconds of surprise if we attack now,” Athame transmitted.
Do it.
She took a quick step forward and thrust her free hand through the wall to the right side of the door slats. The unexpected move took him by surprise, and with his augmented senses he could see he wasn’t the only one. All the Maskhim jumped at the sound of cracking stone. The unlucky one standing in the path of Athame’s fist had his head caved in when it came through the wall. His body collapsed the ground, but she didn’t wait for it to finish falling. Withdrawing her arm, she used the hole as a gun port and stuck the barrel of her weapon through, firing on full-auto. Several more of their enemies dropped to the ground in the deluge of hypersonic metal while the rest flinched back, holding their ears in the crackling cacophony.
Nero, we’re falling behind her body count. Shall we even it up? Prospero suggested.
[COMBAT MODE ACTIVE] scrolled across his vision.
A grin formed around his locked teeth. He backed up a few paces then charged forward leading the way with his shoulder. Just as the Maskhim were recovering from Athame’s attack, he burst through the wall in a shower of plaster and stone. The Maskhim he slammed into flew across the hallway in slow motion, colliding with another in the process of trying to bring his laser rod to bear. Both of their bodies made a soft cushion against the far wall as Nero’s momentum carried him forward; the dull sound of crunching bones was low and drawn out by his altered time perception. It was still in his ears as he rebounded and grabbed the nearest Maskhim with one hand while he turned. He shot the VoQuana in the face and stomp-kicked him down the corridor into the mass of the others standing with wide, black eyes and small, open mouths.
He sprayed a burst of bullets at the
crowd and turned to face the second group choking the corridor behind him. They too bore looks of surprise, falling like leaves as he brought the bucking barrel around on them. It occurred to him that Daedalus really had designed the Abyssians to destroy the VoQuana; they were no match for him or Athame. If things continued like this they would be able to easily find Ameluan and—
A fist slammed into his cheek, half-turning him towards his assailant. The blow wasn’t hard enough to do much damage, but a wave of dizziness followed and sent him stumbling back against the corridor wall. He blinked seeing the VoQuana who struck him bracing herself as she stared at him with rings of red-sparks set in glossy, void-dark eyes. The ground shifted beneath his feet, and he felt himself fall out of combat mode when his knee struck the ground.
What the hell?
She’s somehow interfering in my command routines. Prospero sounded as shocked as Nero felt.
The VoQuana’s small mouth pulled back tight against her teeth as she pressed her attack. His vision blurred. His gun-arm went numb and his pistol clattered to the ground beside him. Bile rose to the back of his throat as he struggled to grit his teeth and rise back to his feet. His assailant took a step forward, her lithe body flowing like water through the air—and her head exploded in a splash of red gore. The rapport of a gunshot echoed down the hallway.
Nero shivered as he was released from the VoQuana’s control. He turned and saw Sorina standing beside Athame with her sidearm aiming where the VoQuana’s head used to be.
“Are you okay?” she asked over the blaring alarm.
He nodded. “Nice shot. I’m not sure how, but she managed to block Prospero.”
“They are learning,” Athame stated. “That should not have been possible. We need to be careful now. If one knows—”
“—they all do,” he finished for her and looked around. Their enemies were now corpses seeping blood across the floor. “Right. Any idea where our targets are?”
“The viruses are doing their work, and I have limited access to the building’s cameras, but maybe not for long. We need to hurry before Login figures out how to defeat my attack,” Sorina said. Then, after a pause, “I found them.”
Nero shook himself, grabbed his gun, and rose to his feet. “Which way?”
“Login is with Ameluan in a room this way.” She led them without hesitation over the pale, bloodied bodies.
He slowed as they approached the intersection at the end. His cybernetic hearing picked up the sound of rapid footsteps ahead. He held up a hand, halting the group, and waited.
Four bipedal individuals approaching, Prospero said. They are heavier than the average VoQuana.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and stepped out in front of the group, squeezing the trigger on his gun the moment four Isinari in armor appeared down the intersecting hall. They scattered like insects but were no match for Prospero’s tracking system. The next burst from his weapon put a bullet in each of their heads.
“Let’s go,” he said, beating the floor with his feet at a jog.
After a brief firefight on the stairway with more Isinari security, they found themselves standing before a slatted door a level up.
“This is it,” Sorina said.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. A cold shiver crawled down his back. “It’s too easy”
“It could be a trap,” Athame offered in monotone.
Nero shook his head, eager to rescue Ameluan and get spaceborne. “Fuck caution. Okay, let’s do this.”
He took a step towards the door and kicked one of the slats. It didn’t move, but the blow sent him stumbling back.
Sorina gave him a look, ears twitching, and gestured. The door opened.
They raised their weapons.
Within, Ameluan sat in a chair with his hands behind his back. Standing over him was a man with pale skin, dressed in Abyssian black.
“Login.” Nero grinned. It was payback time.
The Praetor’s black and silver eyes turned to cover him. “Former Praetor Nero Graves.”
“Don’t move,” he said. “Ameluan, you okay?”
“Yes,” the seated VoQuana responded. “I am unharmed.”
“Come on over here.” He gestured with one hand, keeping the gun on Login. “We’re getting out of here.” Prospero, check in with Kae. Find out where he is.
On it.
Ameluan rose from the chair and moved behind them, bringing his thin hands around to his waist.
Athame’s hand split and peeled back, exposing the silver dome of her EMP weapon. She leveled it at Login and kept her gun on him as well. “Operable or disabled? We only need his memory core.”
“Disabled,” Nero said, and waited for her to fire… And waited some more.
He looked over to see Athame standing like a statue, the pseudoflesh covering her frame sagging like hot wax.
His stomach clenched.
Nero, I am unable to contact Captain Faen, Prospero reported.
Sorina’s ears vibrated and she shuddered. Her arm swung around and he felt the barrel of her weapon touch his temple. The shot deafened him, and the hypersonic round kicked him hard enough to send him to the ground. He blinked as his fingers confirmed that the round failed to penetrate his carbon-nanofiber reinforced skull. There was a piercing ringing in his ear, and his head was pounding from the blow. He turned shocked eyes up towards her.
Her face was slack, her eyes half-closed. She aimed the gun at his stomach—
He rolled out of the way. The rounds sent chips of floor up into the air as they struck. He spun up to his feet, but wavered from a moment of dizziness as his vision lost focus.
We are concussed, Prospero reported. Nero, look out for—
Login slammed a fist into the side of his head, sending him to the ground for a second time. The Abyssian became a blur, kicking him in the gut over and over with such speed and force that he felt each blow pass painfully through him all the way to his spine. It was like being pummeled with a jackhammer. When the blows finally stopped he could do nothing but vomit and wonder if his guts were pulped from the assault.
Activating combat—
His counterpart never got a chance to finish. Nero felt his head swim as they were cut off from each other. He tried to make his eyes focus as Login grabbed him by the throat, and lifting him up into the air, pinned his body against the wall.
“Ever since our master made you I have thought it an error,” Login said. “Biological systems could never approach the purity of our design. Ever since your kind gave birth to us I have been waiting for you to die with the kind of patience only a true machine can have, but I have my limits. The Siren Program is a mistake. We should let the Revok wipe your kind from the stars for us.”
Nero coughed and spat bile along Login’s arm. He gasped for breath three times before his lungs started working again.
“You are no Abyssian, are you? Your experiment ends here. Your failure will spur our master to accept the fact that your kind are ill-suited to his purpose. It is the logical conclusion.”
His eyes went to Sorina. She was standing beside the statue-like form of Athame. Ameluan approached from behind them.
“You,” he croaked out, realizing what must have happened. The blocking choker was still around her neck, but Ameluan had been inside her head at the cave before they undertook the mission. He must have done something to her then. “You bastard.”
“I will make sure Kae forgives me. That is all that matters,” he responded. “He will take your loss hard, he truly loves you as a brother, but my species must come first. I cannot allow you to prevent our return to ascendancy, not even for him.”
Nero snorted, his body contracting as it tried to vomit again. This time blood followed bile.
“Do not talk. It is inevitable. You cannot stop it.” Ameluan looked over to Sorina. “Such a pity.”
“What did you do to her?” He ground his teeth.
“A triggered command, you might say. She’s dream
ing right now. Do not worry, she will not be harmed.” Ameluan stroked his chin.
“What are you going to do? Kill us?” Nero gritted his teeth, anger burning in his chest like fire.
“No, I’m going to use you. Having one Abyssian tied to this planet was limiting, now we have three and a CSA agent as well. You will go out and do the will of the Matriarch.” Ameluan walked up to him, placing his fingertips on the sides of Nero’s head as Login continued to hold him in place. The touch of the cool digits sent a shiver through him. “Resisting will make this unpleasant.”
“Fuck you.”
Ameluan snorted. A pressure started in his head. A mild discomfort at first, it progressed to full on headache and colors flashed in his vision. He felt himself reach up and grab the VoQuana’s wrists, but his arms were too weak to do anything. The pain increased, and for a moment it played a duet with that in his gut.
Something moved over Ameluan’s shoulder and despite his situation, Nero found himself following the motion with his eyes. The figure was small, slight, and had flowing black hair that draped down her back like a cape.
Kiertah? He thought. She must have been a shade of his mind, conjured by the sensation of life draining from his body. She turned her glowing-green eyes on him and a look of concern appeared on her narrow face. Her eyes burst into ectoplasmic-green flame.
A fiery sensation in his chest flared to life, filling his body, flowing through every vein. The heat was incredible, it burned away all thoughts of the throbbing pain in his stomach and his head. For a moment there was only fire, and then he felt strength flood his body. The pain faded into memory, and his hands closed down around the bones of Ameluan’s wrists.
The VoQuana’s eyes went wide and he convulsed as if struck. There was a green flash, and Login stumbled backward. Nero let Ameluan’s arms go and stood up from the wall as the VoQuana fell back.
Son of a— Prospero started as they reconnected, then dropped him into combat mode.
Login came at him as fast as before, but now they were on equal footing. Nero tilted his head to the side, dodging the first punch by millimeters. He grabbed the Abyssian’s wrist, turned, and thrust his free hand forward into the elbow joint, snapping it backwards. Login made no sound, nor did he flinch, but it didn’t matter. Nero, still holding the Praetor’s limp wrist, sent his hand shooting down Login’s arm into his neck. The crackling sound of artificial tissues and polymer bones collapsing filled his ears when the rigid blade of his hand connected. Part of him wanted to pay Login back for the beating he received, but there wasn’t time. Instead, he took a step towards the Abyssian’s body and put his arm around Login’s narrow neck. His other hand went up to the back of the pale head and he felt the Praetor’s fingers clutch his forearm. He twisted with his full strength, feeling joints between the vertebrae snap, disconnecting Login’s head from his body. Nero changed positions, digging his fingers into the artificial flesh of the Abyssian’s neck, and tore with all his strength. A moment later Login’s head came free of his shoulders in a spray of gray silocar, and his body fell to the floor.
Eye of the Abyss Page 45
