by JM Guillen
This is Michael Bishop, Asset 108. I am present on reconnaissance and recovery of one Sofia Delacruz.
If anyone is there, anyone at all, please respond.
36
The response came instantly. It held alternating threads of hope, wild relief, and a caution I could not understand.
Asset 108? Delacruz’s link didn’t have nearly the smooth grace of a Lattice link, but it did the job. Are you reading me?
Absolutely. I smirked, knowing she’d feel it over the connection. You can call me Michael. Interested in a ride home?
[Mother of God], am I. She paused, and I felt that uncertainty again. It seemed odd.
How many in your cadre?
Well, I vacillated. That’s a complicated question.
Is it? Now I felt her smile, a warmth that shone through her link. It’s not just a number?
The Facility inserted three of us into the Ryuu Tower to extract Stone. That would have been approximately seven Rational hours ago, but nearly twenty-three hours here.
So there is a differential. I felt her nod, and a smug sense of being right. Approximately three-fold.
Yes.
So I’ve only been adrift thirty-seven hours or so, not one-hundred and five.
Something like that. In the distance, I heard the cry of some native creature echo through the nightmarish jungle. It sounded like a combination of a snarl and a gigantic, purring rumble—if the creature purring had its lungs filled with liquid.
Oh my God. The relief in her link felt like a rush of cool water. Days passed, and I heard nothing. I set that message up, worried about expending the bioenergy.
Bioenergy. Right. I patted my pockets. Um, I have a few vials of viral mecha if that would help.
So we don’t have a Caduceus onsite?
Right now, we have a single Gatekeeper, assuming you are tech-functional, and an Adept. The other two members of my cadre should be along soon.
Other three? I wondered if Stone would come after us or not.
Oh. She fell from the elation of being found to almost being crushed. I see.
I’m only pulling point. I protested with a smile as I tried to encourage her. My cadre will be along any moment, right behind me.
Yeah. Real bitterness rippled through her tone. That’s what I thought.
The silence that followed felt empty and bereft. I couldn’t imagine anything that I could possibly say. How did mere words fill the silence left by an unresponsive Crown? How could I know what it had been like, wondering if her recorded message would be the thing that would save her or if it would drain the last of her stores?
Hey. My one word felt so weak, almost condescending. Still, I pressed on. I am standing less than five meters from a cave tunnel, which I know leads across the axiomatic realmwall and back to the Ryuu building. I sent another encouraging smile. What say you and me get out of here? We don’t have to wait for anyone, do we?
Well. I felt that uncertainty again, like a burr in the link. That’s a complicated question.
Is it? I raised one eyebrow and repeated back to her the kind of question she had given me. It’s not just a simple yes or no?
She laughed then, and all tension burned off like mist in the morning sun.
I suppose that’s true. Problem is, there are… complexities. Things you don’t know. She paused.
That sounds par for this course, Delacruz. I gave her a smirk. It felt important that I should try and keep her spirits up.
I can port you some data, if you have some mecha. I don’t want to run my Crown dry.
I have four injectables left. You, however, may only have three of them. I felt her smile.
Do you have room for a patch to memory?
Um, I eloquently linked. I think so. Give me a moment. For a man who had been activated on a cold boot, I had an assload of crap shuffled into my Crown. I frowned as I truly paid attention to the mess of data in my system.
Huh. As it turned out, I didn’t have enough room for much at all. If I had a Lattice connection, I could have offloaded some of Stone’s maps and Wyatt’s little video but not without that connection.
You know what, I don’t need to port you this monster, not yet. This one doesn’t have to go to memory. It’s just images. A patch followed her words, and my head twitched. There you go. The link felt nervous, perhaps even a bit grim.
I opened the patch.
This… It took me a moment. This is your current visual?
Oh yeah. Look, I have friends.
A second patch hit me then, this one slightly larger than the first. When I opened it, I saw a secondary view, slightly to the right of the first.
Both were surreal.
From what I could tell, Delacruz crouched somewhere in the nightmare jungle, hiding amidst what looked like great, off-violet banyan trees, if banyan trees brimmed with thousands of mutant cave crickets. The ground around her occasionally had blossoms of symbiont, all tendril-y and gruesome.
In the images, Delacruz didn’t seem concerned about the wildlife, however.
No, she focused on the military bunker and the intense, well-armed men in its watchtowers. In fact, it seemed as if she were, correctly, more concerned with the large, automatic rifles.
The second image raised even more questions and answered none. In it, several figures crouched around her, women with a slight red tint to their skin. Each of them held a wicked metal blade. One also held a pack made of skins and wood.
Bald to a woman, a single piece of scarlet chitin shone on each forehead. A strand of yellow light twisted and bent in an elaborate pattern on the chitin growths.
Exactly as Stone had described Subject X.
I see I’ve shown up at a bad time, I quipped. If you ladies are busy, I’d be pleased to wait.
Take a look at this. She sent another image. Look familiar?
It did. Stamped squarely in the center of the bunker door, the red, triangular symbol made me grind my teeth. I noted the same symbol hanging from the belt of the man standing in front of that door.
Well, damn. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. I have to admit, I didn’t actually expect this.
These people first encountered Sadhana approximately five years ago, according to what they tell me.
What they told her? Hadn’t Stone said that our Crowns couldn’t translate their language? How had Delacruz communicated?
At first, she continued, the [bastards] acted civilized. Remained friendly.
I bet that didn’t last long at all, what with the name-calling. A thought struck me. Is one of those women Subject X?
Who? Delacruz felt genuinely puzzled.
The… the woman. The one Stone liberated from the Ryuu building.
Ah. Yes. She is with us. Woman’s name is Sil. Fierce thing. Sofia chuckled. She feels like she has quite the score to settle.
I thought back to the blood on the floor and nodded.
It’s not just her. Sadhana has been experimenting on the Ad’uun for some time. It began in their research stations here.
Experimenting on the what?
The Ad’uun. It’s what these people call themselves.
Remembering the scythe-like blades I had seen in Delacruz’s image, I decided they could call themselves whatever they wanted.
It’s a complex story. She paused. The base of it is, these people want Sadhana gone. The tensions have been escalating for some time now. When fifteen November happened, I and Sil awoke adrift in the jungle. At first, she thought I was one of Sadhana’s, but—
Wait. I interrupted her, the only true benefit of the secondary comm. Are you saying that you’ve been here four days, and you’ve somehow joined up with the local guerilla fighters?
It’s been a hard four days! More than a little bit of temper came through in her tone. Besides—shit! The unladylike curse came punctuated with a startled reaction, which transmitted over the Crown loud and clear.
Delacruz?
Sorry, Michael. No time!<
br />
Why not? I knew that she didn’t have many resources, but it wouldn’t take long to compile a memory patch.
Because. Her tone felt grim. They see us.
37
Well, fuck.
In that moment, nothing would have been more welcome than a few extra seconds to think. An enhanced processing boost, just for a moment, would have been too useful.
I missed Rachel.
Here I stood, stranded in a moist, aberrant hell while one of my own fought for her life.
Cursing, I paced.
Peering into the jungle, I didn’t see a single demon-spawned banyan tree. Not one. I had a fairly decent view too.
That meant we were far apart. Too far apart.
Delacruz? I hoped she wouldn’t feel my panic. Tell me what’s going on.
Busy. The warm, sharp sensation of focus melted through my Crown.
I paced to the edge of the clearing and felt absolutely helpless. Delacruz had survived for these few days without any help, and now that I’d showed up, she might be dying, adrift in a strange land. I couldn’t possibly reach—
Wait.
“Idiot,” I cursed myself. The woman had the Gatekeeper equipped, after all. She could only use it to open an aperture to coordinates that she had previously used or an area within her visual range. However…
Still, that didn’t make the Gatekeeper useless.
If I could get there, I could help.
I’m sending you a patch. I didn’t even ask. Do you have room to send it directly to memory?
I do. Her link came sharp, terse, focused elsewhere.
Over the course of the next several seconds, I took perhaps half a dozen still images from the phaneric node of my Crown. I made certain to get the cliffs behind me with the rambling series of caves, as well as several good shots of the pyramid and the structures around it.
Do you recognize any of these places? Do you have a spike anywhere near where I am? I sent my patch.
Dangerous. She paused for a long moment. This space is full of aberrant vectors—space-time that doesn’t mesh properly with standard axioms. It’s difficult to see, because of the way Rationality bends here.
I geared the Gatekeeper once; I know what you mean. Often times, alternate rules of physics in space-time could interfere with the basic functions of the Gatekeeper.
You really don’t. I haven’t had the time to properly explain.
Sounds pretty dangerous on your end too. How about we spend less time worrying and more time coming up with solutions?
Delacruz didn’t have the monopoly on danger. I had almost killed myself the last time I had geared the Gatekeeper. My cadre drifted within the gloaming between worlds, fighting for their lives, while my Crown thundered with system warnings about paradox looping.
I don’t think you understand. Her tone irritated me.
I didn’t ask if you thought it was a great idea; I asked if you have a spike in my proximity, Gatekeeper?
Near-ish. One location, about two kilometers off.
Okay. What’s the best way for me to get to it?
I have the coordinates here in my Crown augment.
Another long pause, but a pause without silence, passed. I felt rivulets of rage and frustration washing through the Crown, but I had absolutely no context within which to place them.
Then, rushed panic came with her words.
I will ignite an aperture there. If I link you the coordinates, can you place your own waypoint marker for Locale One?
Yes, I confidently linked though I had never done that in my entire career. I’m certain I can.
Less than a second later, I received the coordinates. I still felt the data trickling through my system when I began to toy with what I needed to do.
Crown command: Configure phaneric display. Access iota six-three.
ACCESS GRANTED, ASSET.
I had forgotten the odd sensation of Crown system messages while not attached to the Lattice.
I require a reticule over my visual, at the following coordinates. I selected the data that Delacruz had ported me and configured it for system usage.
IMPROPER SYSTEM COMMAND.
I swore and bit my lip. I should have known it couldn’t possibly be that easy.
Crown command: Initiate waypoint reticule.
RETICULE INITIATED. A golden crosshair appeared in my vision. DO YOU WISH TO INPUT COORDINATES?
Fucking-A, I do. I nodded.
IMPROPER SYSTEM COMMAND. DO YOU WISH TO INPUT COORDINATES?
YES! I just about had my fill with truculent Facility technology today. Select data from archived link number 1–55987B–1999.
COMPLIANCE.
Like a miracle from heaven above, the reticule slid across my visual field, positioning itself in the direction that I thought of as functional southwest.
“Finally,” I muttered, cursing the miraculous technology.
I had just triggered the Adept and sprinted in that direction, when a thought occurred to me:
Perhaps I shouldn’t be completely stupid.
I took an extra thirty seconds and set a message to broadcast from my Crown. I couldn’t imagine that I would see my cadre too soon—after all, if it took them an hour to get past the symbiont that would be three hours here.
And what if it took longer?
This is Michael Bishop, Asset 108. I am present on reconnaissance and recovery of one Sofia Delacruz. I am alive. This message has been broadcasting since [#system time]. My systems are currently operational.
I am currently, against all intellect and reason, charging off to take part in what seems to be guerrilla warfare against overwhelming military forces organized by the Sadhana Corporation. I have located Sofia Delacruz, and she has initiated an aperture for my transport at [#system coordinates]
If you happen to be an inbred hillbilly with your entire house decorated in Confederate flags and pictures of monster trucks, I officially request assistance.
I would also quite enjoy seeing Anya again.
What the hell was that? Delacruz’s confusion, tied with the adrenaline that pounded through her link, made me grin.
It’s a complex story. The base of it is, I’ll be there very soon.
I regeared the Adept, feeling the packet sync to my nervous system with trickles of wintergreen and electric tremors.
Then I began to run.
I needed to be cautious and not let the packet go for too long. The Adept might speed my reaction times and improve my concentration, but it came at a cost. The mental buzz from the constant axiomatic alterations of biochemistry could make a man downright twitchy.
Wyatt maintained that the intense rush of focus and concentration had addictive qualities. And also that I needed my head shrunk for favoring it.
According to the information in my Crown, Delacruz had laid a spike somewhere approximately a mile away. I dreaded the sprint through a hungry, Irrational jungle filled with blood-seeking symbionts, but if things got dicey the Adept would help me dodge past any too-friendly tendrils.
“Can’t exactly use the Spectre, can I?” I chuckled to myself. “Not until I touch the Lattice again, at least.”
Let me know when you reach Locale One. Delacruz sounded harried. I’ll simply trigger the second aperture then.
I hoped that you could leave this one open, at least for a— I stopped short, realizing that I had almost stepped into what looked like a slime-covered, eyeball-laden Venus flytrap.
“Fuck!”
The thing hissed. It looked so bizarrely alien, with its wide maw and dripping eyes, that I might have believed it had actually come from Venus.
For a…?
For a little while. So my cadre can use it when they get here.
Am I to expect that your cadre will be equipped with monster trucks?
I considered. You know, it’s possible.
Hold on.
Again, the quiet extended for a long period while I felt the intense emotions of a woman in
the middle of a firefight. When she linked again however, the message felt professional and crisp.
I can leave it open. But that doesn’t mean that it’s trustworthy.
I’ll take what I can get. I carefully stepped past the horrific carnivorous plant, even as it rustled and turned toward me with an alacrity that I never would have expected from vegetation.
“I do not have time for you today.” I gave the thing a fierce glare.
I’m certain it understood since it wisely backed down.
The plant-monster wasn’t my true problem, however. As I sprinted forward, I came to the slow but inevitable realization that the coordinates Delacruz had sent me…
Were moving. The reticule itself drifted, constantly shifting to the right ever so slightly.
I hadn’t really been paying attention so far, what with the sprinting through the alien jungle of death, but the moment I did, I stopped short.
It’s further away. I frowned as I linked Delacruz. Is that even possible? Can an aperture move?
I told you. Aberrent vectors mean that the dimensions of space aren’t exactly flush with what the Gatekeeper is accustomed to. She paused. Even so, I show an eighty-seven percent probability that the aperture will still be stable by the time you reach it.
And if it’s not?
If it’s not, then I told you so! The link came all in a rush, and I had the impression that Delacruz had just been taken by surprise.
Tell me you are okay.
No. I’m—A long moment passed. Okay. Now I’m okay.
Okay. I’m on the move. Hold tight for me, Delacruz.
Ha! She laughed. I felt it over the link like tiny pink bubbles. Let’s be clear. You’re not coming to save me from the bad guys, gringo. I’m doing you the favor of providing safe transport through a horrific alien landscape. After that, I’ll be the one taking you home.
Gringo?
Mike Bishop. That’s the single whitest name possible.
I prefer Michael.
Get us both out of here, and I’ll call you whatever you like. How about that? I felt her grin.
Fair enough. I smiled as well and pushed through said horrific alien landscape.
