Aberrant Vectors: A Cyberpunk Espionage Tale of Eldritch Horror (The Dossiers of Asset 108 Book 3)

by JM Guillen

  Silence responded, somewhat petulantly, I thought.

  I heard cries ahead, but a little too distant for me to make them out. At the end of the hallway, I peeked around the right corner.

  Clear.

  The left-hand hallway also looked secure, but here I saw more evidence of damage to the structure. While the electric lights remained on but dimly, other light shone, eldritch and pearly. Ahead, I made out another place where a steel beam had broken through the top of the ceiling. The soft glow of the ghost light shone in from above.

  Like the crack of a whip right next to my ear, I heard the barking cough of a pistol nearby. A cry accompanied it, sharp and savage words that my Crown couldn’t understand. “[ᾋὶ! ɔήζϘ!]” The woman’s voice echoed oddly with primal, raw hatred.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  The sound of a firearm came again.

  “This sounds far better than studying.” I sprinted forward, drawing my katana as I went.

  With one weapon in each hand, I leapt some of the rubble, but then I saw a solid steel door, one that the fallen beam had mostly destroyed. Within the room it had once sealed, a young woman fought for her life, the same young woman who had screamed in Sofia’s face in the packet.

  Two soldiers flanked her, one cautiously rising from the floor, a hand touching his bleeding forehead, and a second who swung his semi-automatic weapon toward her.

  It barked, spraying bullets.

  He handled the thing like a pro, sweeping it from side to side to ensure he would catch her.

  But he didn’t.

  Like an acrobat, the woman leapt high into the air, above his spray. She held a curved blade in each hand, and slashed toward him in a wide, viscous arc.

  “Filthy—!” His words cut off as she caught his shoulder, spraying the wall behind him with an arc of scarlet blood.

  The pattern it makes. I stared, entranced. The fractal wonder of it spilled out in front of me, a composition of bestial desire.

  Impossibly far away, I felt a low growl, so quiet that it rumbled in my chest. The back of my neck began to itch.

  Beautiful, I thought. A scarlet song of sweetness written in the veins of every…

  I shook my head.

  “Quit it, asshole.” I muttered.

  As Sadhana Fucktard Two stumbled back, gaping in horror at the blade buried in his deltoid, his idiot friend stood up behind the young woman.

  She didn’t see him, being too busy screaming, “[ɔⱷϩД Ϯγ ΘÞÙçğΞ πξ!]” at the top of her lungs.

  Asshole number one grinned and reached for a black, bracer-like band he wore on his forearm. Even from here, I saw the small glass container set into the top of the thing and the furious silver mote shining within it.

  “Nope.” I practically leapt into the room, the Adept carrying me with deadly grace.

  For the briefest moment, the young woman’s eyes went wide. “[ƟDŽ ƩΘɔ?]” She drew back from me, expecting an attack. As she still held onto her weapon, she dragged that wounded Sadhana jerk a couple of steps with her.

  “Fuck!” The obvious burst of pain in his shoulder brought the word bursting forth in an exclamation of agony.

  I spun past her, aiming my disruptor for the ass behind her.

  He froze in place upon seeing me, as if I had just appeared from nowhere.

  “What—?” Then he found his feet and scrambled backward.

  “Hey.” I leveled the disruptor at his face.

  The young woman turned and swung her blade to decapitate my startled opponent just as I fired. I drilled a nail-sized hole through the man’s skull. In the same instant, the young woman buried her second blade in the other man’s neck.

  He gurgled and died as my opponent’s body hit the floor.

  Then the woman’s eyes fell upon me.

  I purposefully fought to ignore the blood running down her blades as I returned her gaze and took a step back.

  Her dark eyes went hard. Her forehead shared the deep red chitin I had come to expect, with yellow light tracing across its surface. Breathing hard, she looked as if she could go another few rounds. Everything about her spoke of readiness, a warrior through to her bones. She might be dressed in leather and beads, but she seemed cunning, sharp and aware.

  I imagined she could positively wreak havoc with those sickles.

  “Hi.” I smiled, holding my hands to my sides and out. I tried not to look like someone she would want to gut. “I think we’re on the same side.”

  Damn, I was smooth with women.

  “[ğⱩⱥⱣⱪⱥ?]” She peered at me intently with her dark eyes.

  “Yeah, I can see that.” I kept my voice as calm as possible. “But I shot that guy.” I gestured to the man slumped on the floor. “You saw that right?”

  “[ⱣΈῆ. ᾲⱪğᾉᾂỹ ẕẙ ẞ.]” She turned, as if listening to something.

  “How’s this?” How had Sofia done this? “Delacruz. You know Sofia Delacruz?”

  “Dell-ahCRoose.” The woman butchered the name but smiled. “[ⱪğ ᾉᾂỹ.]”

  “Right.” I made my smile wider. “Delacruz.”

  “[ᾉẙ ⱪᾋἉἱάỵ.]” The tension faded from her posture, and her eyes grew softer.

  “Good.”

  I eyed the man behind me, whose skull I had ventilated. He had fallen onto his side, with his arm slung over his head. The light in the odd device he wore still gleamed with a wrath that burned to look upon.

  I crouched and peered at the bracer mechanism. Approximately twenty centimeters long, the metal device enclosed his arm all the way around. Three bright dials cleverly adorned one side along with a fairly large button and a couple of electronics casings.

  I had an idea.

  This is stupid. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Rachel and her stern warnings against punishing my tech. “But it might be useful,” another part of me murmured.

  I needed to be resupplied, honestly. Being this low on Facility gadgets and allies made me nervous. Besides, if I brought this back to the Designates, perhaps they could reverse engineer Rebecca Thorne’s technology.

  Hell, badass super-agent Stone hadn’t even gotten his hands on one of these.

  The catch for the bracer tripped no alarms or countermeasures, and I removed it with ease.

  I weighed it for a moment in my hand, a little startled at the heft.

  “I don’t think I’m going to get you in a pocket.” I reached into the leg-pouch I used for dampening grenades. It could fit in there, but—

  “What if I need it? Or what if I hit some button, while it’s in my pocket?”

  After pretending at being a responsible adult for a few moments, at least to myself, I made the wisest choice possible.

  I started to place it on my arm.

  “[ᾋẙ ẞẸỴῊ ῄⱴ.]” She turned toward me, alerted, I supposed, by the shifting silver glow.

  I froze in place and watched her face. Would she be angry that I took it? Did she know the torture that Sadhana used to wrest that shining speck from people like her?

  Furthermore, should I dress in the gear of her enemy right in front of her?

  If these things bothered her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she repeated “[ᾋẙ ẞẸỴῊ ῄⱴ.]”

  “Harl?” The sound, tinny and quiet, clearly came from the pocket of the fallen soldier. “You clear?”

  I found the small walkie-talkie stashed at the man’s belt. I pulled it out, as my companion looked at me curiously.

  “Clear here.” I did my best impression of a ‘Harl.’

  “Good. The mongrels out here are all dead.”

  Shit.

  “Roger that.” I winced as I said it, hoping that the lingo met their protocols.

  “Head on back. The Padre needs some reinforcements at the Breach.”

  The Padre? I recollected the bald man back in The Spire. Here?

  “Understood,” I responded in my great imitation of Harl.

  I remained crouched as the wh
eels spun in my mind. The Padre had a device like the one on my arm as well. Had he been able to escape The Spire using it?

  “[ᾋẙ ẞẸỴῊ ῄⱴ.]” My new friend took a step toward the hallway and glanced back at me.

  “Yeah, I get it. Let’s move.” I smiled again, feeling like I might be mugging it up, but she understood facial expressions.

  If Sadhana had slaughtered the rest of her tribe, then we definitely needed to get going.

  I geared the Adept down as we stepped back into the hallway.

  My hairless associate gestured me forward and moved stealthily through the shadows.

  We hadn’t gone ten meters before I realized what she had heard. As it finally filtered through to me, she glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes hard.

  Gunfire, somewhere outside.

  I nodded at her once.

  Her eyes glinted like obsidian knives.

  42

  We found a second doorway about five meters further down the destroyed hall. The bald woman took point as if she knew exactly where to go, so I followed, pistol at the ready.

  Heavy fire had shredded the Sadhana bunker. Something had hit it from the outside, from what I could tell, perhaps some weapon that Delacruz hadn’t known about.

  Perhaps as soon as she and her associates had taken the location, Sadhana had gone scorched Earth.

  Delacruz? Come on now. I tried to link her every few moments but to no avail. I’m getting bored of hide and seek.

  Nothing.

  The sound of fighting grew distant for a few moments, and I worried that things might be over. Then, I heard the growling of an engine outside followed by more gunfire.

  I was really missing out on the party.

  Hey there, fucko. The link hit my Crown with all the grace of a moonshine-drunk hillbilly driving a stock-car.

  Oh, God! I laughed out loud. You’re here.

  Not in Kansas anymore, that’s for certain.

  No shit.

  Michael, I’m happy you’re active. Stone actually was happy about it, I felt that. We need an appraisal of your situation.

  Oh, I have a hell of an appraisal. If you have space for a port to memory, that is.

  Hold on. Stone paused, making certain, I assumed. Ready when you are.

  It’s fairly large, and I’ll have a small one right after. I leaned one hand against the wall and gestured for my sneak-buddy to hold up for a moment. Then I sent.

  You did not exaggerate the size of the packet. Anya’s link came crisply. Delacruz’s work appears remarkably thorough.

  Well, you now know more than I do about the situation. Here’s one regarding my experiences so far. I assembled bits of my phaneric record, omitting my brilliant theft of the Sadhana bracer, and sent them.

  You didn’t port this to memory? Stone’s link felt confused.

  You puked on a guy? Wyatt crowed.

  “[ὶΆῃῌ.]” My Irrational comrade peered at me, concerned. To her I appeared to be standing here for no reason.

  “Delacruz.” I nodded at her, trying to keep my tone soft and calm.

  She urged me forward, and I followed, still linking.

  Is this aperture still active, Michael? Stone’s question came a little eagerly. If this is your current location, then we can regroup.

  Anyone who passes through may sick up everywhere.

  Wyatt paused, and I felt his frown. That aperture’s vectors seem a bit busted up. Rosie here might be able to stabilize things on our end. It’ll take a lot of tanglin’ though.

  This end is not active. I will regroup with our Gatekeeper soon. Once accomplished, the aperture should be usable, even if a bit screwy.

  I can handle screwy, as long as our favorite princess lends a hand wranglin’ the axioms.

  That’s the play then. Stone’s link implied that we all, obviously, agreed. We will make for the coordinates left in your message. You will retrieve Delacruz, and then we can regroup.

  The dang thing’s still adrift. Wyatt had already set a reticule, I assumed. We can find it though.

  Great. We came to another turn in the hallway, and the young woman took it, eyeing me warily.

  “Dell-ahCRoose.” She gestured forward, through two large blast doors that likely led outside.

  Hey, I linked as I nodded at her, does Delacruz say how she learned to speak with the natives?

  It’s the symbiont. Anya responded.

  She got infected, Hoss. The organism grants some kind of telepathy bullshit.

  Our Preceptor added, The symbiont is a major part of the biosphere here. It interconnects almost every form of life.

  It’s a gross part of the biosphere. I wrinkled my nose.

  It wasn’t always like this according to Delacruz’s records. Anya paused. The locals blame Sadhana. They claim the organism began to suffer malaise shortly after they arrived and began extracting something she has named Photic-Magnetism.

  Malaise? I thought of the symbiont’s fleshy, slime-ridden growths. Is that what she calls it?

  Delacruz speculates the topia has some kind of cancerous growth, causing fast spreading tumors and lesions.

  “[ΘÞÙçğΞ.]” The young woman gestured as she grasped the door handle. “[πξ ⱩⱣᾋ ɔήζϘ.]”

  “Got it.” I nodded, completely unwilling to get infected with a symbiont just to understand her.

  She pulled open the door.

  A clearing awaited us outside, nestled within a few dozen of the wide banyan-like trees. Just as I had seen in Delacruz’s patch, the trees positively crawled with enormous, multi-legged crickets.

  Ew.

  We crept outside, the mist providing more than enough light to see by.

  Trees. Rocks. Bugs. Quiet.

  I peered around nervously. I didn’t like it. At least when we had been able to hear the fighting—

  “Well now.” The voice came from behind and above.

  I spun and triggered the Adept.

  “Don’t really expect to find Facility out this far, do ya?” a second voice jeered.

  A man with a cigar hanging out of one side of his mouth joined his friend on top of the bunker, and both aimed their AK-47’s squarely at us.

  “No. You don’t.” The first gentleman, a man with a thin little goatee, peered down at us. “I thought their jurisdiction was pretty limited.” He gestured at me with his weapon. “Toss the pistol, pretty boy.”

  Scowling, I did. The AK’s far outstripped my disruptor, after all.

  “Look! Seems like he’s made friends with one of the mongrels.”

  As the two bantered, I glanced around, looking for any cover at all. Even with the Adept, I couldn’t dodge bullets.

  Fuck. I saw four other men nestled in the trees around the bunker. Now I understood why everything had gone quiet.

  The whole thing had been a fucking ambush.

  Maybe I didn’t sound much like Harl after all.

  “I’d plaster your ass right here, boy, but the Padre will want a word,” cawed Goatee with a maddening grin. “Got some questions about what you folks been up to.”

  “We need to find out what you’ve been teachin’ the natives.” The cigar-sucker added.

  “They been restless, you see.” Goatee’s voice quieted, almost too calm for his shit-eating grin.

  I gazed at the men, trying to figure out how to not get murdered to death.

  BAM!

  A fierce burst of wet warmth splattered all over me as the woman next to me exploded in a horrific concussion of clear liquid.

  “What?” I stumbled back, shielding my face retroactively. Losing my balance, I fell to the ground.

  Almost immediately, the thick goo began to evaporate into nothingness.

  The moment the woman vanished, cigar-guy cursed, “God d—!”

  She appeared next to him in a burst of eldritch fire and colorless light.

  Chaos reigned.

  Goatee whirled on her, spraying bullets wildly as she firmly planted the business end o
f her sickle into his friend’s back.

  “[ŴƎƝ Ɣ nj èDŽ!]” the woman screamed as she swung again, and I heard the wet impact of her weapon in the man’s body.

  “Stay on the ground!” One of the men from the trees screamed at me as he jumped to the ground. He waved his weapon as if somehow I’d managed to miss it.

  The top of the bunker rang with gunfire over the wet, visceral sound of the woman’s odd Irrationality.

  I’d completely forgotten what Stone had said about these people being temporal aberrants, but there it was. She’d just teleported to the top of the bunker and killed one of the men.

  And used that man’s body as a shield.

  “Don’t move!” screamed the man with his weapon on me, but he didn’t really have to.

  I’d already sheathed my katana and tossed my disruptor to the grass.

  “Okay!”

  “On your back, hands beneath you!”

  “We’re cool, man.” I looked up at the merc as I rolled over. “I’m doing it.”

  I had no other choice, not really. Completely helpless, I didn’t have anything in reach, except—

  Oh.

  I closed my eyes, imagining Rachel’s inevitable anger. No matter how I considered this situation, however, I couldn’t find another choice.

  Don’t burst into flame, I pleaded internally. Don’t summon skeletal pteradactyls or—

  I pressed the button on the bracer.

  A loud, satisfying CLICK echoed through my body, and I felt a brief flash of tearing pain, something burning in each of my bones.

  And then…

  Two-ness.

  That’s a ridiculous way to describe it. However, my first thought wasn’t much better: Two? What?

  I split. My mind was a duality, shifting between two points. My perspective shifted, as if I had stood up and looked at the ground from an angle, only…

  I looked down on myself, from another man’s eyes.

  The shock of it made me recoil in horror, and as I did, I flowed backward through a long, winding tunnel.

  Then, Michael Bishop, badass extraordinaire, gazed at the soldier with the threatening gun again. He stood there, vacant and staring, empty eyed. The lights were on, but no one was home.

  “Bring her down!” Someone in the forest shouted, but it sounded so far away.