by JM Guillen
“Interesting.” I gazed at the soldier again, a man with stubble and dark eyes.
The device on my arm hummed with a low throb of energy, and I smelled the wet, fungal scent of the jungle all around me. But more, I felt him as well. Faint and distant, but there. I tried remembering what had happened, what it had felt like to be looking down on myself…
And again found myself behind his eyes.
From his perspective I noted one of the men running from the trees, his weapon aimed high.
I followed the man’s gaze and smiled. On top of the bunker, an elegant but terrible dance left Goatee constantly sprinting about, dodging the savage strikes of the young bald woman. For her part, she flipped and dove, then vanished before his eyes.
He didn’t come close to striking her, but his speed did a fine job of keeping him just out of her reach.
“Watch that asshole!” The man yelled at me, gesturing toward poor, prostrate Michael Bishop. “I’ve got—”
What he got was three rounds from my AK-47 in his chest.
“Robert!” One of his friends cried out from the trees.
I turned toward him and sprayed the fungal forest liberally with a wide burst of firepower.
“The fu—?” Robert’s friend went down, without ever knowing what happened.
I spun around, searching the trees for the others.
And caught a bullet, squarely in my face.
Excruciating pain sliced through my cheek, like a burst of fire and salt in my skin.
I cried out.
My ride fell, slumped to the ground, and I tumbled back into my own prone body.
One.
Whole again.
“We have problems at Station Delta,” a fourth soldier reported, apparently feeling no guilt for shooting his friend in the face. “We’re might need more backup.”
As he stepped close, I pressed the button again. That same satisfying CLICK came, and I felt that odd, awful split.
I drifted between us easily, like focusing my eyes, near and far. Then, I hid behind the eyes of the thug.
“How many hostiles?” The gruff voice on the other end of my earpiece asked.
“Um…” I almost panicked. “Standby. Situation… fluid.”
I fired at the top of the bunker, catching Goatee in the back with a burst.
His focus on the young woman must have been intent, since he failed to watch his rear at all.
He fell with a surprised cry.
“Fluid?” The voice sounded confused.
“It’s… Harl.”
The young woman stopped in mid-slice, seeming just as confused. She looked down at me, and I gave her a thumb’s up and a grin.
“Harl?”
“Affirmative. He just killed the Facility asshole and the other hostiles.”
“Killed him?” The voice sharpened with anger.
“No need for reinforcements. Situation gree… great.”
Great?
“The Padre wanted all Facility Assets alive. Is the Mexican bitch still in the vehicle barn?”
“Affirmative.”
As I spoke, my native friend burst into a spray of light and viscera, as if a grenade had gone off inside her stomach. In the same instant, the colorless shine of light sliced through the air in front of me, and she reappeared. Before I gave her so much as a smile, she buried her curved blade in my ride’s throat.
“[Ŵnj èỵDŽ!]” She stared into my eyes, hatred making hers sharp, like flint.
“Why can’t we raise—?” was the last thing I heard as, with a spiraling sensation of agony in my neck, I swam back into myself, a sound like a sucking straw gurgling in my skull.
“Ow!” I looked up at her, more than a little heat in my voice. “What the fuck?”
“Dell-ahCRoose.” She smiled at me, an unsettling sight, what with my ride’s blood splattered all over her face.
“Right.” I picked myself up. “Delacruz.”
Looking around for my weapon, I picked up my disruptor and then took the thug’s AK and a few clips.
Today’s lesson: it never hurts to have extra toys.
43
My companion’s apparently mystical sense of direction, like a Delacruz-seeking missile, led us in a straight line past the bunker. Down a small path, we cut through the trees. She confidently took turns that made no real sense but didn’t waver.
Every once in a while, she’d look at me and babble, “Dell-ahCRoose.” For good measure, she pointed forward.
“I get it.” I couldn’t fault her. The tread-tracks on the path definitely implied ‘vehicle barn.’
I wondered at what Anya had said about the symbiont infecting Sofia. How deep did Delacruz’s connection go? Just as important, could a Caduceus cut that link, or would the infection remain for the rest of her life? I didn’t imagine that would sit well with the Facility.
Thoughts for another time.
Gatekeeper, do you copy? Several times as we walked, I sent a link, but every time, I got nothing in return.
The path wound sinuously between the banyan-looking trees, alternating occasionally with smaller trees boasting sharp little leaves. Every once in a while I saw a symbiont blossom glistening on the surface of a trunk. Malaise or no, the collection of ichor and mutated organs it sprouted made me sweat a bit. I couldn’t help but think that everything that lived here seemed well adapted to kill and eat me as I watched the wet blossoms and the millions of insects swarming those large trees.
That thought brought another. I decided to see how my coworkers enjoyed this slice of Irrational heaven.
How’s it going, Guthrie?
We haven’t made fucking Locale One yet, Hoss. Frustration wore at the link, yet he feigned being positively chipper fairly well. This place is a nightmare.
I hear ya. Is the aperture drifting on you?
Worse than it did for you, from what we can tell. We’re afraid it’s degrading.
I am closing in on Delacruz now, I believe.
Roger that. It looks as if the fucking aperture has shifted across a lake of boiling-who-knows-what, so we’re trying to figure out how to proceed.
Damn. I shook my head.
I should be able to lay some spikes, maybe alter the aperture’s location. Space is a lil’ sideways here, but the tangler still has a trick or three. He hesitated. This is gonna take some serious time, Hoss. I can lay spikes to augment local spatial vectors; but if this thing keeps shifting, it’s going to take a long ass time.
How long?
Fuck. A couple hours maybe. Don’t be surprised if we’re a lil’ quiet on this end.
Understood. I nodded, watching as the warrior princess crouched behind something like grass bred with stinging nettle. I’ll keep you apprised.
“[ỶʙʘʑȺɊȶ.]” The woman gestured for me to duck down and waved her arm in the direction of the clearing ahead.
“Got it.” I whispered as I crouched.
Ahead of us, a building that could only be the vehicle barn lurked within the vegetation.
Two well-armed, thick-necked men stood in front of it, pacing idly as they watched the trees.
“[Ʉəɗ Ʌɣɨɮɏ.]” Flint-like eyes met mine as the young woman gestured at the men. “Dell-ahCRoose.” She made a fist.
“I get it.” I held up one hand, as if to caution her. “Let’s try and keep this quiet.” I whispered the last word, hoping she would grasp what I meant.
She simply stared at me, like a goldfish studying an algebra text.
Fine.
“Look.” I held up the wrist device and waggled my arm. “You know this is more than fashion, right?”
She looked from the device to me, no comprehension in her eyes.
“Fucking thing is going to give me brain cancer. You watch,” I muttered.
I pointed at the man on the left, a jarhead gorilla with a crew cut and camo fatigues.
Then, slowly and obviously, I pushed the button.
CLICK. The small, otherwise insignif
icant sound felt like echoes of an earthquake, trembling through my body.
The trip along the twisted tunnel felt just a bit longer; I assumed because of the distance. However, just as before, I deposited soundly into the body of the second man, who stopped in mid-step.
“…somethin’?” The second man stood just behind him.
“Naw. Thought I saw something in the trees for a second.” I turned back to him, feigning a smile as the overwhelming scent of burnt motor oil drifted off me.
I couldn’t see Michael Bishop or his savage partner in the undergrowth. Good.
“You’re just still flipped out over those fucking bat-things.” The man spat, grinning. “I still don’t think they’re large enough to carry off a person.”
“You’re wrong.” I glanced around, trying to determine if there might be security cameras or other guards I hadn’t noticed.
No. Clear.
“Whatever.” He turned, getting ready to walk back along the same path.
As he turned his back, I dropped my grimy hand to the knife at the soldier’s belt.
“You’re just too paranoi—” the man started but never finished.
I plunged the large knife into the side of his neck. “It’s a flaw.” I placed another hand on his shoulder, bearing him down. I probably didn’t need to be so cautious, but more than once I had encountered some soldier or bodyguard who had a bit more spunk than I had imagined.
He looked at me, disbelieving, as he slumped and the light faded from his eyes.
“Sorry, buddy.” It felt odd to say, but that didn’t change the truth.
I typically didn’t face a foe like this; usually things neatly boiled down to me versus them. This felt dirty in a way, taking him completely unawares, and from the hand of a…
As if a channel had changed in my mind, I noticed the warm sweetness of the man’s blood running down my knuckles, spreading across the dead man’s shirt. It no longer came in rhythmic pulses, instead pooling beneath him on the ground.
My pulse raced.
All fell perfectly in its cosmic place—this man’s life had been mine to take. Now, the bounty of his life belonged to me.
Deep in my body, I felt a hunger unlike anything I had known. For an eternal instant, I thought I might taste the man’s ebbing vitae; I thought I might need to.
To honor him. To honor his strength.
To honor my prey.
Michael? Anya’s message echoed in my mind, as if from an incredible distance. I’m showing fluctuations in your ambient Rationality. Is all well?
I blinked, taking a long moment before returning to my body.
Um, yes. I shook my head. It’s handled, Anya. Thank you.
You’re welcome. She felt a touch confused at my thanks. I’ll let you know if I have any similar readings.
“What the fuck?” I returned to my ride, then looked at the bleeding man, trying to make sense of the savage emotions I had felt.
No. They had passed.
Anya had used my Crown’s nodes to keep tabs on Irrational bullshit before, even from afar. I had to say, however, this perhaps had been one of the most fortunate.
What would have happened if she hadn’t linked just then?
I shook my head again.
I’d worry about that later.
The door behind me held fast when I tried it, locked. A steel card reader sat next to an oil-smudged numeric pad, and as I dug through my pockets, I panicked a touch.
I hoped it didn’t require a code in order to enter.
“Crap.” This guy had nothing in the way of card keys. He had an odd little radio, a fob of regular keys, which I supposed might be handy, and a small tin of mints.
No. Not mints. Pills of some kind rested inside. They looked like capsules with a brilliant blue powder inside them that glowed.
I considered taking one. They weren’t ordinary pills, so it would be better to experiment on this guy’s body, wouldn’t it?
No. I couldn’t poke my head into every mystery I found here. My focus needed to remain on Delacruz and escape.
I went through the other guy’s pockets.
“Ha.” I grinned. A keycard attached to a pull string, just like the one Wyatt had found. I turned around and swiped it through the reader, praying it would be enough.
The green light winked merrily at me.
“Finally.” I deserved a break. I stepped inside, peering into the shadows.
And a screeching, furious Hispanic Asset dropped on me from above, spearing me in my back with her knee.
I crashed to the floor, my breath exploding out of my lungs.
“Hey there, cuca.” Her voice held a savage glee. “Don’t think you’re going to be ‘getting to know me better’ after all, do you, pendejo?”
I didn’t know what she had around my throat, but it dug into my flesh with agony and unforgiving fire. I thrashed my arms outward, out of sheer instinct, pain, and terror.
Then I realized the worst of it.
I couldn’t jaunt back to boring old Michael Bishop, not yet, because this guy would fight back once he controlled his own body again. He might even be a challenge for Delacruz; his body felt like it could dead-lift a car engine, and he still had that knife. Hell, he had a rifle slung over his shoulder.
If I wanted to make certain that she won, I needed to hang out as long as possible.
And that sucked.
Unable to breathe, I tried relaxing as midnight splotches burst in my vision and my brain pounded in my skull. The entire world lurched in time with my heartbeat.
Fortunately, Delacruz knew her business. In moments, I began to black out. At the last second, I let myself drift away.
I felt certain that Delacruz had a final ending in mind for this guy. I’d already been killed twice today and had no desire to die again.
The tunnel sensation whizzed by faster this time, swimming in my mind.
When I blinked my eyes, I noted my warrior woman ally, staring intently at my face. She held my chin in her hand.
Then she slapped me.
“Hey!” I started, instantly pissed.
The woman, for her part, smiled. “[Ƚȩ ȧȥȜ Ⱦȶ ȴɄȒǽdz.]” She pointed at the vehicle barn. “Dell-ahCRoose.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
I rubbed at my face. The woman really knew how to hit. Had she thought I had drifted off into a trance? Unconsciousness? Had she been trying to wake me up?
“C’mon.” I sighed.
Delacruz? You ready to head out?
No response. That troubled me.
Together, my comrade and I ran up the path. When we came close, I held out one hand, trying to get her to wait.
When she understood, I stepped inside.
The small room smelled like a mechanic shop. A lone door was nestled awkwardly in the far wall. Next to it, canisters of oil, gears, and tools lined metal shelves as well as a workbench equipped with a small vise.
Also, a smart-assed Asset leaned against a counter, giving me a shit-eating grin.
“Hey there, Bishop.” Delacruz finished unlocking the handcuffs she had strangled me with and tossed them down. She took the man’s knife as a matter of course. “Took you long enough.” She frowned. “Are you wearing a Sadhana gizmo?”
“Taking it with us for study. I’ve…” I shook my head, deciding that it would take too long to explain. “Why aren’t you linking?”
“I’d love to know that one myself.” She stood and reached for the man’s firearm, another overwrought Calico M960. She shouldered the weapon and stepped over to me. “It’s something to do with this little trinket right here.”
She held up one slender wrist.
A silver and brass band encircled it. No obvious clasp. No markings or obvious mechanisms marred the outside, except for a small Sadhana logo on the top. On the slim portion underneath that did not hug her wrist, I saw blinking green and solid blue lights.
Her skin looked red and raw. The device had several small dents in
it, all concentrated in one spot, as well as marks that suggested she’d locked it in the vise and tried cutting it with a serrated blade. She had really been working at this thing.
“You’re saying…?” I stared at the item and then at her.
“Shuts down Crown function. Entirely.” She glared at the device. “Reminds me of an axiomatic shackle in a way.”
“Fuck. Me.” I gaped. “So no links…”
“No Gatekeeper, no Wraith, no directives for viral mecha…” She gave a dark chuckle. “They took the gatekeeper, as if the crossbow’s any good without the packet. Left this though.” She reached into a pocket, pulling forth the folded up crescent of her Crown augment.
If her Crown had been online…
My heart sank at the thought. Even without the weapon, her packet and the augment could open apertures. But without her Crown, we were more than a little fuc—
“Dell-ahCRoose!” The bald woman stepped inside, radiant joy on her face.
“Sil!” Sofia smiled as well and opened her arms.
The woman ran to her, and they embraced.
I watched but panic fluttered in my chest.
What could we do?
I remained the only active Asset within reach onsite. My cadre waited somewhere in the nightmare wilds with no means to get here quickly. We had the remnants of my gear, three automatic rifles, a Sadhana wristband, and an active Adept packet.
On the other hand, an unknown number of fully equipped Sadhana operatives lurked out there, possibly heading straight for us.
Fuck. We needed to get as far away from this place as we could as quickly as possible.
“The rest of my cadre is here.” I turned from the two.
“They are? How many?”
“Three, not that it matters.” I clenched my fist. “Without your packet they’re just out in the jungle somewhere, trying not to die.”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t facing her, but I heard her smile fade.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” I said as I glanced back at her, my eyes dark and grim, “while I link them our current status.”
“Copy that, Bishop.” Delacruz released the woman from her embrace.
I stepped out of the shop, my mind spinning. I had been all ready to find our Gatekeeper, port back to my cadre, and then go the fuck home.
