The Glitch Saga- The Complete Collection

by Stephanie Flint

  “Come now, what is your name?” she whispers.

  I close my eyes and lean her against me. She’s tugged at my will for a good half hour. Teasing, cajoling, trying to get me to speak. I refused her at first. Now I feign interest. It’s not hard; she’s already enticing. A kiss on the ear, a tug at my mind. I want to tell her my name—I really do—but that’s a bad idea. She can’t know. She must not know. Once I tell her my name, all my secrets will come tumbling out.

  Better to end this interrogation before she wins.

  I wait until her teeth aren’t threatening the attachment of my ear, and then ram my shoulders into her chest. I expect her to be surprised, but she lightly dances beside me, then straightens herself while I struggle to my knees. I bare my teeth. “Get away from me.”

  Her eyes mock me. She shakes her head, her perfect nails held daintily to her lips. “So close, and still so far away.”

  The door shuts and locks behind her. She’s gone. The smothering presence lifts, but I still sense a loss as she leaves.

  I swallow hard. I can’t let my guard down. To let it down is to die. To let it down is to become a beast.

  A giant portal of thick purple matter swirls before the Legion Spore. Clouds of violet fog mix with lighter banks of mist, twining and shifting like a coming storm. The edge, an uneven border around the portal, is thick and dark.

  I wring my hands as I pace the command center. The Camaraderie has never attempted an attack on the Oriental Alliance’s largest training base. There are too many students with techno sight. But this time, we have the advantage—assuming no glitches show up. I twist Val’s locket between my fingers. I promised her I would never leave her, that I’ll always be there for her.

  Why does my first battle have to be this one?

  Commander Rick flies an elegant, gleaming battleship before us. Small lights shine crimson in its beetle-like hull. Giant rotors pulse within the now-open wings. It’s a work of art, complete with the Lady of the Cog emblazoned on its side. Flight beasts dip and dive between the portal and the airship, then vanish in the swirling fog. A computer screen to my left lists the unfolding mission.

  The attack has begun.

  The Oriental Alliance sets off air raid sirens and their students clamber inside their mechs, preparing to fire. A screen beneath this one relays a set of revolving images from security cameras on the flagship.

  Anticipation spills from the Legion Spore’s thoughts. Ready, Master Zaytsev?

  Not really, no. I shift uncomfortably. “Go ahead and link us.”

  The world opens as my mind links with the airship. Images like giant, see-through computer screens flicker around us. We touch the one in front of my body, and the image enlarges. This is the vision relayed through our eyes, and as the airship vanishes through the portal, several smaller ships dart ahead. We follow, our fins directing us forward. Our tentacles recede and tuck underneath our belly.

  The portal surges from the relative calm of the Indian jungle to the chaotic training center in Japan. Concrete buildings jut into the sky and tall, two-story mechs aim their weapons at the airships, and then at us. A missile launches from the arm of a bipedal mech. The gleaming silver canister sears the air. Our programming kicks in. Electricity and fire focus on the missile. It explodes before nearing our hull.

  Satisfaction. Success.

  We are legion.

  We need to eliminate their technological systems.

  It’s a reminder from our programming, and that does seem to be what Commander Rick asked us to do. We focus on the thrilling mass of airways and code, then translate the Japanese instructions. Map out the base. A quick hack—we’re inside. With our powers and knowledge, we have direct access to the banks of computers lined along a wall. Here there is unlimited potential and life. Numerous spirits rushing in mass confusion. We shift our focus to telepathy. We hear their thoughts. Panic. Jumbled, garbled messages. Retrieve ammunition, guns. Hack the airship. Warn the cities. Warn each other.

  We focus.

  Rows of code. Rich, layered programming. Deeper, we sink deeper into streams of numbers. Binary. Too deep. There are fail-safes.

  We latch onto the smart grid and lock onto the generator. There will be backup. Not everything will go down at once. We change that. Each sector, each fail-safe. We shut everything down. When everything is linked together, we wipe it. Ten life forms fall unconscious, and several others waver.

  Commander Rick’s voice sounds in our head. Good job, Master Zaytsev. Keep alert of any technological interference.

  Yes, sir. We are legion. Our eyes create a panorama; we see the battlefield in great depth. Zoom in, zoom out. The mechs are limp. A helicopter crashes into the eastern wing of the compound. A fireball erupts in smoke and debris.

  Master Zaytsev?

  Yes, Commander? We divert our attention to a small cluster of active technology. It shuts down.

  Master Zaytsev, when you link your mind to the Legion Spore, you should retain your individual identity.

  But we are legion. Many, as one. We are… a tug. Something is trying to break free. A strange struggle, a desire.

  A glitch?

  Master Zaytsev? Come in, please.

  The tug grows stronger, then yanks me free. I gasp for air, stumbling against the command console before flopping into my seat, my forehead in my hands. I close my eyes, dizzy, and block the technological sensory emanating from the vessel. I press the manual radio button. “I’m here, sir. The Oriental Alliance’s tech systems should be down now.”

  Very good. Pay attention to your surroundings. There may be other pockets of resistance.

  I take a deep breath. “Understood.”

  My heart pounds on overdrive and I’m not ready to acknowledge that our mind link was stronger than I’d planned.

  Master Zaytsev, we experienced another glitch.

  Beads of sweat run down my forehead, and I wipe them away. “Report.”

  While we were linked, one of our components tried to remove itself from the hub. However, the glitch is recorded in our logs.

  My breath catches in my throat. “That wasn’t a glitch. That was me.”

  But, Master Zaytsev…

  A cold chill runs down my spine.

  We were efficiently linked, more so than usual. If you join us, we would be able to better perform our duties.

  There’s a strange squelching, slurping noise behind me. I turn, slowly, but there’s nothing visibly wrong. I peer outside the hall. Goosebumps rise on my arms. One of the hub columns, normally surrounded by the Legion Spore’s leather wall, has opened, revealing several beasts with gray skin. Shut eyelids, pale lips and blue nails. They aren’t dead, but they’re barely alive. The beasts sit on the grate, each in an open cage above the next that extends through the three-story body of the airship. Wires protrude from the beasts’ skulls. Tubes in their arms supply nutrition and water. Most are held by stiff cable and rope, which cuts into their skin and prevented the beasts from running during the original merge.

  I swallow hard. “Legion Spore, why is your hub open?”

  Join us.

  A hand latches onto my wrist. I jerk away. Thick brown blood covers my wrist from the formless hand. The muscle retracts into the wall.

  I take a deep breath. “Legion Spore?”

  “Join us…”

  I spin on my heel. There’s a mouth in the wall, eyes below it. I step back. Something grabs my shoulder. Warm. Slick. “Legion Spore!” I launch myself toward the command room, fighting to keep my balance. Another arm shoots from the floor, grappling for my feet. I plop into the command chair.

  Weird… I can still access the programming code. I scroll through it, faster as another eye appears at my finger tips. Come on…

  There’s a misplaced line of code. I remove it.

  Master Zaytsev, our records indicate a gap in activity.

  My chest lightens with relief. “I noticed that. Should be fixed now.”

  Thank you, Maste
r Zaytsev.

  I examine the glitch as my breathing returns to normal. This glitch is different. It doesn’t have a point of origin within the individuals. The more I look, the more I think someone’s tried to reroute the code into different parts of the Legion Spore’s programming.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  “Is the hub still exposed?” I asked.

  Confusion. We have never exposed the hub.

  Maybe this isn’t a glitch.

  Master Zaytsev, we are required to alert you to a small, unidentified vessel leaving the area.

  “Insignificant,” I murmur. We need to fix this glitch, not apprehend ships.

  Master Zaytsev… The voices are curious. She has our memories.

  I frown and bring the revolving set of images onto the main screen. Mechs. Helicopters… There’s a small firefight in the distant region, but most of the people on the ground now are Special Forces.

  We are legion, it calls mentally, and I almost swear it’s happy. Then I see the fast fleeing vessel.

  “Zoom in.” Nothing happens. I bite my cheek. “Legion Spore?”

  No response.

  I type the command, and one of the Legion Spore’s eyes shift and focus until they reveal a small, black car flying into the distance. My chest tightens as I manually scan the ground for signs of the rebels. I don’t see anyone, so maybe they escaped. “What were the memories?”

  Not her own. Disappointment. Stolen memories, used to cause pain. Are we a device for pain, Master Zaytsev?

  I blink. The vessel is showing remorse, but that’s not in its programming. “No… you’re a flying hub.”

  She was in pain.

  There are only three female members in the Coalition—the rebellion that uses a prototype flying car. I clutch the light bulb charm and the heart locket between my fingers. “Who?”

  We do not know, Master Zaytsev. Should we pursue?

  “No. Our job is to protect the Camaraderie from technological attack. As long as the rebels are fleeing, they are insignificant to this mission.”

  Part of me wonders if I’m making a mistake by letting them go. Either way, they should be long gone by now. The only way to track them would be to use the Legion Spore’s tech capabilities, but it’s needed here. This mission is more important, and we have other plans to capture the Coalition.

  “Legion Spore—download the information from the Oriental Alliance base. Run decryption algorithms as necessary. Stay out of the fight unless engaged.”

  Yes, Master Zaytsev.

  I peruse the files as the vessel brings them in. Plans, maps, technical blueprints. Most of the files are encrypted, but they’re relatively easy to read, and the more I focus, the easier it gets.

  The main fighting ceases. Mechs are overridden by Special Forces, and the view screen shows them hauling out unconscious students.

  Odd. Normally Special Forces kills any opposition, unless they want hostages for interrogation.

  Master Zaytsev, someone is attempting to hack our system.

  A small line of code shifts, replaced almost instantly. I get a mental image of numbers swirling past me, but they don’t link past the Legion Spore. No tablet, no computer. Whoever is hacking the system is going straight to the source.

  “Can you pinpoint the person behind this?”

  There are plenty of techno sight users at the base. If one of them hasn’t been found, they still pose a threat. But they shouldn’t be able to hack the Legion Spore—there are too many firewalls.

  Techno sight—no response. Life-spirit suggests they are within the basement of the compound. However, there is too much interference from allied forces to pinpoint their exact location. When faced with telepathy, the culprit stops attacking us.

  They probably don’t like the painful defense mechanism that I put in earlier. “Alert Special Forces to their general location. See if you can suspend their—” The code drifts away from me, distant. “Legion Spore?”

  We have lost access to our power matrix.

  I gape at the computer screen. “What?”

  The hacker— The computer screen blanks.

  I stagger to my feet. “Legion Spore?”

  No answer, and this time, no information feeds through. I try to link my mind to the coding, but there’s a wall in place. A very tough, steely wall. I reach for my tablet, but the moment I touch it, the screen dies.

  I pause. The central command station’s screen has a red dragonfly centered across a white background, the OA symbol. I try typing on the keyboard—nothing. I close my eyes and rest my fingers across the keys and the mouse. A more direct connection, and this time I try a mental approach. I fly along the wall, looking for cracks. Whoever took control must be watching me, which means they have a feedback loop somewhere. I find the crack and force myself through.

  My eyes snap open. For a moment, I’m dizzy—disconnected. My hand pats my side absently, searching for a pistol I don’t carry. I hear my voice speaking… either Japanese or Chinese, I’m not sure. A moment later, English. “Couldn’t make this easy, could you?” my voice asks.

  My mind seizes in terror as my body steadies itself against the dais, head erect, searching the halls. “The Camaraderie of Evil has gotten ambitious. What else can this kaiju do?”

  The hairs rise on my arms. I try to move, but I’m rooted in place. I can’t call for help; I can’t speak. My body stumbles toward the command center and sits in the chair. My fingers remove the emerald pendant from my chest and hold the antique to the light. I feel myself smile, murmuring something in Japanese. Without my translator, I have no idea what I just said.

  I need to hide.

  My fingers are typing, working to access the database through habit of practice, but pauses on the list of quarantined glitches. “Kaiju… or yokai?” my mouth murmurs uncertainly.

  They’re distracted. A nursery rhyme won’t help me break free, but a game might. I do what Lady Black suggested to keep out telepaths. I picture a suit of cards. Falling blocks… Pong. I picture running across a battlefield, chasing after beasties and bad guys from one of the rebel’s video games. I’ve played it mentally before; I never needed the clunky controller. I chase after a fire beastie—

  Blackout.

  I’m sprawled on the floor, choking and gasping for air. But… I can breathe. One precious breath after another. I wiggle my fingers. I’m me again. The screens are open. I reach my hand over the console and pull myself up. “Legion Spore?”

  I inhale a deep, slow breath. The air is thin. Records indicate the hacker tried venting the atmosphere. I position my side against the open console and resume typing. The Legion Spore has its powers back, though the hacker is avidly controlling the air elementals.

  The AI is still offline, but that’s not a problem. I have access to everything but the Legion Spore’s air elementals. I mentally give the vessel the command to suspend the hacker’s life in the entire area where he might be.

  Air gushes into the room and I sag against the desk, relieved.

  Master Zaytsev, are you all right? You are suffering from asphyxiation.

  I nod slowly and take deep breaths. “Link to me to Commander Rick, please.”

  His voice comes across my mind, clear and strong. Master Zaytsev?

  “We’ve just suspended the lives of everyone in the coordinates I’m sending. One of them is an extremely strong techno sight hacker. Life, too, if their resistance to telepathy and suspension means anything.” Deep breath. Air’s still a bit thin. “They temporarily hacked the Legion Spore and used its telepathy to control my actions.”

  I see. It appears your training with Lady Black paid off.

  “Yes, sir.” I set to fixing the minor glitches the hacker spawned. Most of them are obvious. The hacker must have been grasping at straws when they first attempted the attack.

  I’ll send Special Forces to retrieve the aforementioned suspect, Commander Rick sends. In the meantime, reinforce the Legion Spore’s programming. How did t
he hacker get in?

  “I’m not sure, sir. It appears they had some knowledge of hubs to begin with. Combined with a strong handle on techno sight, they were able to break through the firewalls.”

  Review their attack. I expect a report by the end of the day.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I twist my lips. The hacking is the work of an expert… and desperation. They weren’t trying to cause trouble, they were trying to find information. They simply shifted our attention to a glitch so they could see how everything operated, which must be how they found the telepathy program.

  I crack my knuckles. There’s a space of time where nothing has been recorded. All the mismatched coding comes after. I twist the locket between my fingers and glance at the mission status. The OA base has been taken. The invasion of Japan has successfully begun.

  Still…

  I can imagine how furious the commander is going to be when he learns that the rebels have escaped again.

  Lady Black closes the door behind her and just stands there. Not moving. “How are you feeling?” she croons.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? I try to reach her with my powers, to sense her life, but there’s only a dim flicker. I try again and again. Still nothing. I grit my teeth. “How’d you do it?” I demand. “How’d you keep me from noticing the loss of my powers?”

  She strokes the wall with her fingertips. “Gradually. Low dosages.”

  I snort. Figures. If she’d blocked all my powers at once, I’d be in the infirmary, not the prison. Being a life-spirit user has it perks… so long as those powers remain functional. The moment they shut down, the rest of the body tries to shut down with them.

  The lady removes a capped syringe from a hidden pocket in her dress. “For the time being, you have received the same dosage of adominogen as any citizen in the Community.” She twists the syringe in her hands. “Are you familiar with the side effects of overdosing?”

  She removes the cap from the needle. Liquid beads at its tip. She flicks it, and the liquid splashes on my cheek.

  I tighten my hands into fists. Even if I fight her, there’s a good chance she’d still get the serum into my blood. She crouches. I stare her in the eye.