by M. S. Farzan
I took the captain’s seat, preferring that the technomancer focus his efforts on deflecting any resistance we might meet on the water. It was only five or six miles to the island, and most of the NIGHTs’ attention would be turned towards the battle in San Francisco, but I wasn’t willing to take any chances. Based on the state of the city and our current location, I estimated we had about an hour to get into the base, grab Tribe and the data drive, and get out of there.
I looked around at my teammates, then back at the glimmering city and the white towers of Alcatraz. The Bay Bridge loomed bright to our left, and I could hear the faint sound of sirens on the wind. A light spray from the black water beneath began to hit us as I maneuvered out of the harbor and into the Bay. Straight ahead, behind the NIGHT headquarters, the Golden Gate Bridge stood dark and vacant, brooding solemnly in the empty night, a silent reminder of what was at stake.
One hour to save the city, perhaps the world. It would have to be enough.
NINE
If I am a charlatan, I have fooled even myself, believing that despite my form and origination, I yet possess the capacity for thought, emotion, and morality.
-The Sigil of Sparks
One mile out from Alcatraz, we almost drowned. We had come to the outer perimeter of NIGHT security, just outside the visible range of a solitary cruiser. We were lucky that the whole of the facility’s attention was focused in the opposite direction towards the city, but still had to move carefully.
I turned our vehicle broadside to the island, having made sure all of the visible lights were off and reminding myself to thank the Sigil that what few drones were left were being used elsewhere. Knowing how the battle would play out, Karthax would move all of his forces into the city, unconcerned that the auric king would venture as far east as the NIGHT headquarters.
“Here’s good,” Gloric said, rummaging through his backpack. The rest of us looked on incredulously as the gnome pulled out an extendable bipod and sniper rifle, setting it up on the side of the cruiser.
“What the hell have you got in there?” I asked.
“Always the right tools!” he said proudly. He looked over his shoulder at Alina. “Do you want to do the honors?”
She looked surprised, but took a seat behind the bipod and took the rifle in her hands. Having seen her sports bar and pitching ability, it was easy to forget that she had been a soldier.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said gently. Throwing baseballs and beer glasses in self-defense was one thing. Doing the job of an assassin was another.
“No problem,” Gloric said, catching my meaning before the half-auric could reply. “Oxidium-based tranquilizer. No dirty cleanup!”
That made me breathe a little more easily. I already had a lot on my conscience for getting my new companions involved in the first place, and Tribe’s impending torture weighed heavily. I didn’t need to add murder to the tally.
Two figures stood on the NIGHT cruiser, silhouetted against the bright lights of Alcatraz. They walked back and forth on the little boat, stopping intermittently. Alina looked through the rifle’s holoscope, steadying herself against the bobbing gunwale. They would neither of them be easy shots from a stable surface, let alone from the moving water cruiser.
The half-auric exhaled slowly through her nose, then pulled the trigger. One of the silhouettes straightened, clutching its neck, then slumped out of sight.
Without hesitation, Alina cocked the sniper rifle, setting another tranq bullet in its chamber. The other shadow stood still for a moment, then ran over to the first, stooping out of view beneath the cruiser’s side rim. The Pitcher waited patiently, picking her moment carefully. Within a few seconds, the figure raised its head to look around, and Alina squeezed the trigger again. The silhouette dropped.
“Nice shot,” Vasshka offered.
“Thanks.” Alina wiped her palms on her jeans and helped Gloric put the rifle away.
I steered the water cruiser over to the liberated vehicle, careful to keep the NIGHT cruiser in between us and the island’s security floodlights, which illuminated everything within a half-mile of the headquarters. We sidled up next to the boat, using a loose metal board and some rope Vasshka found in the water cruiser to create a makeshift boarding plank. Alina climbed across it nimbly, fastening it more securely on the NIGHT vessel and then helping Buster and Gloric to join her.
I stood behind Doubleshot, who eyed the plank dubiously, pawing at her hat.
“Problem?” I asked.
“I can’t swim,” she said. It was the first time I had seen her nervous.
“You’ll be fine,” I assured her, hiding a smile.
The dwarf put a foot hesitantly on the board, using her hands to steady her. Gaining in confidence, she stood upright, putting her other foot forward.
Her timing could not have been worse. A large wave rippled underneath the cruisers, rocking strongly enough to separate them from one another by about a foot. The plank and rope held on the NIGHT vehicle, but dislodged from ours, dumping Doubleshot unceremoniously into the black water.
“Vasshka!” Gloric cried from the NIGHT cruiser.
“Piss,” I cursed, stripping off my coat and shoes, tossing them to the other vehicle and diving overboard in the dwarf’s direction.
The water was freezing, shocking my system and threatening to stop my heart for a few seconds. I kept my eyes closed, knowing that the salt water would do a number on my lenses, and instead moved my arms around wildly, searching. I brushed Vasshka’s leather jacket almost immediately, and clasped it with my hand, feeling her weight pull me downwards. She was sinking like a stone.
I kicked my legs furiously, using my free hand to pull us to the surface and shifting so that I could grab the dwarf underneath her arms. She sputtered as we reappeared above water, and I looked up just in time to see Buster barrel into the water on top of us. The wolf had evidently seen the action and jumped in unnecessarily.
Alina threw me a rope and I used it to haul Vasshka to the NIGHT cruiser, inelegantly pushing on her bottom to help her lift herself onboard. I swam over to collect Buster, who was paddling happily in the frigid water, and guided him onto the hanging plank. Gloric grabbed the wolf’s front paws, heaving as best as he could, and was rewarded by being trounced by a hundred-odd pounds of wet hound.
I clasped the rope and started climbing, then heard Vasshka’s voice from overhead.
“My hat!” she protested.
I looked back in the water to see the dwarf’s wide-brimmed hat floating peacefully among the waves. Sighing from the very core of my being, I swam back to grab it, feeling the chill pervade my bones.
Hat in tow, I pulled myself up the rope and onto the cruiser, collapsing on the metal deck. Vasshka lay in a heap next to me, her face ruddier than normal and her hair a tangled orange mess. Gloric hovered nearby, clucking over her, and Alina busied herself with putting away the ropes and plank.
The dwarf looked over at me pointedly, her horns glaring menacingly in the moonlight. “If you tell anyone about this…” she began.
I handed over her hat and forestalled any further comment. “Scout’s honor,” I promised.
Buster padded over and shook himself dry, spraying the three of us with cool Bay water. Vasshka sat up, complaining uncharacteristically about the hound, and put on her now floppy hat, which squished weirdly on her wet head. If I hadn’t already been concerned that she would kill us all for witnessing her ignominy, I would have laughed. She looked ridiculous.
“We’ve got company,” Alina called from the cruiser’s little steering cabin.
I picked myself up, squeezing water from my shirt and pants and retrieving my shoes and coat from the floor. The dwarf and I had landed not far from the two tranquilized guards, a man and woman, who slept peacefully on the aft deck. I rummaged through their pockets, grabbing their digitabs.
I tossed the devices to Gloric as I made my way to the cabin. “Unlock these?” I requested, picking my steps care
fully so as to not slip on my wet feet.
The steering cabin was a simple, unfurnished room with digital controls for the cruiser’s engine and abovewater artillery. A narrow set of lockers stuck out from the rear wall, and various boxes filled with nautical tools sat neatly, riveted to the floor.
“What?” I asked, walking briskly to open an unmarked locker.
“One cruiser incoming, and a timed security check from the dispatcher,” Alina explained, looking at several blinking messages on the central console.
The locker was empty, and I checked the next one, finding two bundles of neatly-pressed uniforms. Agents always kept extra clothes on the water-based vessels.
“Here, put these on,” I said, handing Alina a set and beginning to strip off my wet clothes.
The half-auric eyed me curiously as I took off my shirt, and I was suddenly self-conscious in the cold air. She smiled enigmatically and turned away from me, undressing.
I did my damnedest to keep my eyes to myself, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t catch a flash of tanned skin and a few scars here and there. I made a promise to myself that the next time I was naked with someone from the opposite sex, it would not be on a boat with our lives at stake in the middle of the apocalypse.
I was grateful for the dry set of clothes, which were a little tight but serviceable. Alina’s uniform was baggy on her slim body, but it would do. I would be recognizable by other agents on sight and the half-auric’s disguise wouldn’t stand up to any real scrutiny, but I hoped that our outfits would at least provide some cover from a distance.
Gloric’s skills and whatever help we could garner from Madge would get us into the facility, but there were some limits to what they could do. Masking the image of a random water cruiser coming in to dock was one of them, which is why we needed the NIGHT vessel. Gloric could have disabled the perimeter camera systems, but that would create undue suspicion and likely result in more patrols being sent out to investigate.
The gnome walked into the cabin, empty-handed. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Got their tabs?” I asked, running my hands through my hair to try to get some of the water out.
“Better,” he said. “I’ve created micro-profiles on the network and synced them with yours. You should be able to use your own digitabs, with increased access levels.”
I marveled at the technomancer’s genius. “You’re the best.”
Gloric gave me a thumbs-up and returned amidships.
“ID requests from the cruiser and dispatcher have come in again,” Alina said, looking at the console. The holodisplay’s LEDs bathed her angular face in a soft green light.
I walked over to the console, pulling out my digitab and opening the micro-profile Gloric had set up for me. Sure enough, the male guard’s information and access codes popped up, and I synced the identification protocol with the vessel’s computer system, showing Alina how to do the same. I could see the other cruiser off our starboard prow, making its way slowly towards us.
The console beeped, accepting the verification, but the NIGHT cruiser kept moving in our direction. A button flashed in the holodisplay, indicating an incoming call.
I activated the call’s audio. “Perimeter NVC two zero eight one, reporting,” I said, using the vehicle’s identification number.
“Two zero eight one, this is three six one niner,” a female voice came through the console. “Please explain your delay in ID verification.”
“Problem with the verification protocol, sir,” I said, thinking on my feet. “It’s been fixed.”
There was a short pause, and I felt as though I could hear the other cruiser thinking.
“Please put on the vessel’s commanding officer,” the voice said at length.
I made a face at Alina, nodding at her digitab. She brought up the female guard’s micro-profile and took over the call.
“First Lieutenant Talia Watson, reporting,” the Pitcher said confidently.
“Lieutenant Watson, please provide vocal identification to confirm digital ID,” the voice responded.
I fought down my panic, helping Alina to find the guard’s identification number in the micro-profile. The cruiser’s forelights continued to drift inexorably in our direction.
“Three six one niner, vocal identification is romeo, victor, zero, yankee, zero, delta, zero,” Alina said with no hint of hesitation.
There was another pause as the cruiser checked her credentials. I held my breath.
“Carry on, two zero eight one,” the voice replied.
I dropped the call, letting out a long breath. Alina and I shared a look of relief as the other cruiser’s lights slowly turned away from our direction.
“Can you drive one of these things?” I asked her, lacing my boots.
“Think so.”
I gave Alina an outline of the NIGHT headquarters’ structure, directing her towards the facility’s east-facing rear entrance. She pulled the cruiser around and started heading in that direction.
I made a quick call to Madge, who picked up after a short delay.
“Nightpath?” she said, using my title to let me know she was in mixed company.
“Madge, we’re coming in pretty hot,” I said. “I need you to find a reason for the camera crew to leave their posts. Five minutes, tops.” I was fairly certain Gloric could handle the digital access we would need, while Alina and I took out any guards. Most of the Nightpaths, Daypaths, and Inquisitors would be in the middle of the fighting, hopefully leaving only a few that we would need to avoid. We would have to pass several visual security checkpoints, though, and it would be impossible for Alina and I to get through without a fight.
“OK,” she said after a long pause, her voice distant. I had a sudden, irrational fear that she was still in Cuba, fighting in the city, or otherwise unable to help us.
Her hesitation worried me. “Madge, are we good?”
Silence.
I checked my digitab to make sure she was still on the call.
“Madge?”
“Everything’s good, Nightpath,” she said, more clearly. “I’ll wait for your signal.”
The line clicked, and I felt my eyes narrow in suspicion. I had realized that our plan depended on Madge’s inside help, and trusted her implicitly. We had known each other since we were teenagers, and been through more things together than any two agents should have to. It hadn’t crossed my mind that she might renege on helping us, or worse, give us away to Karthax. I liked to think that our bond was stronger than whatever sense of loyalty we had to the NIGHT leadership, but the past two days had given me plenty of reasons to doubt everything.
I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, dismissing them. Either Madge would help us, or she wouldn’t. We didn’t have much choice other than to keep moving.
I went to check on the others as Alina steered us within the island’s security floodlights. Vasshka had stripped off her leather outer clothes and was standing in the middle of the deck in trousers and a black tank top, still dripping. Buster had his hands on the gunwale, taking in the ocean breeze, and Gloric was tapping at his portable keyboard, his eyes flitting from his glasses’ display to that of his single-eye visor.
“I can see if there are some other clothes…” I offered to the dwarf.
“I’ll live,” she said, taking out a soggy cigar and trying to light it.
“You guys should be good up to the VPen,” Gloric said, referring to the third underground level of the island fortress. “Anything lower will require a physical keycard as well as the digital security passes.”
I nodded, already knowing the layout intimately. My own keycard would ordinarily be able to grant us entrance, but Karthax would have been sure to have had its access revoked. Even if he hadn’t, use of the keycard would alert mission control of its user’s presence, which would initiate all kinds of alerts. The NIGHT headquarters at large thought me dead, and would presume that anyone using my keycard was trying to break into the facility. They wou
ldn’t be wrong.
I helped my companions get situated in a little maintenance area below deck, storing the sleeping guards with them. They were to wait for the five or so minutes that it would take for us to get into the facility, then take the cruiser north around the island and west towards the Embarcadero, drawing as much attention away from us as they could.
“How are you going to get out?” Gloric had asked as I told him my plan.
“Send me a helicarrier,” I joked.
He looked at me straight, completely deadpan.
“Do not send me a helicarrier,” I explained.
Alina came back to meet us as we neared the island’s perimeter, wishing the others well. She knelt down to ruffle Buster’s soft hair between his ears.
“Take care of them, buddy,” she said quietly. The wolf licked her palm, whining softly.
I squatted next to her in the small space. “They’ll be fine,” I reassured her, uncertain.
We closed the hatch on the maintenance shaft, and I brought Gloric’s visor camera up on a corner of my lens display. The gnome had connected all of our digitabs’ communications systems and synced my video capture with his. What he saw, I would see, and vice-versa. Right now, I could only see the shadowed outlines of Doubleshot and Buster, with Gloric’s hand typing away at the portable keyboard.
Alina and I returned to the cabin, and we both looked up at the approaching fortress. The island had always been imposing; historical photos would show its functionally minimalist buildings and solitary lighthouse squatting territorially atop the small mounds of dirt and scrub. In the modern era, it had been turned into something that looked like it was plucked from an Arthurian legend. Three white towers capped by circular turrets formed a triangle at the apexes of the island, surrounding the central structure, which had been rebuilt above and below ground. Smaller spires poked up from angular white buildings, gleaming with a fey light in the darkness.
