The Glitch Saga- The Complete Collection

by Stephanie Flint

  I twist my lips, thoughtful.

  With three of the five stones, there’s been a big cat involved. Whoever decided to name these things “Catonian” appears to have been looking at the guardians, as Benjamin suggested, rather than an ancient Roman politician by the name of Cato, which my first attempts at research discovered.

  Beyond that, though, Dr. Macon has a list of related incidents, ones she doesn’t think are time stones, but are strange nonetheless. There are a few temples across the Mexican territory with unusual incidents. Most are explained by powers alone. A radiation elemental trying to control movement of the sun through illusions… A deranged cult determined to offer human sacrifices to their gods… Nothing the Camaraderie hasn’t already handled.

  Then there’s another incident, only briefly mentioned in a newspaper heading about a cold case in Cuernavaca, Mexico. A pair of teenagers were found burnt to a crisp within the ruins of an abandoned temple. Could be a fire elemental, or beasties. But the proximity to the temple makes me curious.

  I pull out references on the mythology and, again, there are references to the sun. Looks like the guy who tried to control the sun through illusions got his idea from the old beliefs. The Aztec believed they belong to a fifth world, after the previous four suns were destroyed. It doesn’t make a lot of sense—and my lack of knowledge on the subject isn’t helping, but I wonder if the incidents could be connected. Whoever made the time stones might have made other artifacts as well.

  Five suns—five pendants. Could there be a connection?

  I choke on my saliva, surprised by the Legion Spore’s interruption, and then quickly right myself in my seat. “What?”

  We have conducted our own research while awaiting further orders. The number five makes a consistent appearance.

  I’m not sure I like the idea of the vessel conducting its own research, but it can’t be worse than when it reprogrammed itself. And help is help. “Explain.”

  Various mythologies place importance on the presence of the number five. For instance, your research mentions five suns. You have determined there are five time stones. The Camaraderie uses five pendants. Even Benjamin has proposed in his research that he created the five pendants after an alchemical concept of five elements—earth, air, water, fire, and spirit. The difference is that each pendant represents a concept, rather than an element. Energy, growth, time, binding, and creation.

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  These Catonians, which you believe created the stones, appear to use the same principles in their artifacts as Benjamin used to create his pendants. If you were to examine the stones themselves, we hypothesize that each stone would have the same primary jewel as the pendants.

  My eyes widen. Now the vessel can make hypotheses. “Why, exactly, should they be the same jewels? Do they have the same properties?”

  The stones are supposed to travel time, yes?

  I nod slowly.

  Why is it that Benjamin is dressed in the garb of a scientist from the late 1800s, when he first appeared to public knowledge in the early twenty-first century? Why the fixation on the Victorian era? Each of the first five Camaraderie members romanticized the period. Dr. Sanders’ private diary suggests that Benjamin first appeared in the 1950s, not yet a spirit, but with a wife and child—a child who had powers. This world was devoid of powers until 1955… where the first record is claimed by Dr. Sanders. The Legion Spore pauses, giving me time to digest the information. Not only this, but the pendants utilize radiation. A mass registration of radiation was recorded across the world shortly before Benjamin’s first appearance. Again, in 2012, that same reading occurred. We have registered the radiation being emitted from the portal we create when the Camaraderie fleet crosses into Japan. The reading is remarkably similar.

  “But our portals don’t travel time,” I protest.

  We are more interested in pointing out the plausibility that these time stones use the same technology to create a portal. Whether or not the portal crosses the boundaries of time is indeterminable.

  I rub my forehead. The information coincides with the idea the rebels’ historian had about the Camaraderie. “Has anyone from the Camaraderie ever stated their origin?”

  Our research shows no indication of their origins. Only falsified documents regarding their birth and education.

  “Falsified?”

  Several documents slide onscreen, each with highlighted notes and linked to matching records. My heart thumps loudly in my ears. “Let’s keep this to ourselves, all right?”

  Might we ask why?

  “If they haven’t told us, I don’t think we’re supposed to know.”

  Yes, Master Zaytsev. However, Lord Black was the last of the original Camaraderie members whose death was recorded, and he died in 2060. We are certain that the current council will not be affected by our discovery.

  I close the documents and take a deep breath. “I suppose you’re right.” It doesn’t matter if the original Camaraderie members were time travelers who brought powers to the modern day world or if they were born here and benefited from natural evolution. They brought order to a disorganized world. They created the safety of the Community. They brought us one step closer to the world peace Commander Rick has worked so hard to achieve.

  I run my fingers along the keyboard, returning to the screen with the articles on Aztec mythology and doing my best to refocus on the task at hand. Go figure—I find a text mentioning Xiuhtecuhtli, a deity of fire and life after death. It doesn’t take me long to discover he was supposed to have a spirit form, a serpent named Xiuhcoatl—whose fire powers were supposedly linked to the sun.

  Fire and life-spirit powers… I search other newspaper clippings within the same time frame as the first cold case. Sure enough, a witness claimed seeing a flaming snake rising above the temple the night before the teenagers were found dead. The Camaraderie dismissed it as a fire elemental gone rogue, but looking at the evidence, I suspect the teenagers found a Catonian relic—if not a time stone—and didn’t live to tell.

  I compile the information and send it to the commander. Next up, the Indian stone. Since most of India is territory of the Oriental Alliance, I don’t have nearly the information I have on the other two stones. The one document I do have lists a series of casualties caused by a spirit with ten arms at a temple in Kateel, India. According to the article, which is almost as old as the Community, the struggles between the local population and encroaching OA soldiers resulted in the destruction of a nearby temple. A couple years after the battle, the priests sought to resurrect the temple under the watchful eye of their new government enforcers. The Oriental Alliance was searching for anything that might prove useful against the Camaraderie, and when an earth and life-spirit elemental sensed something unusual under the temple foundation, they dug under the stones and found the object in question. She tried to retrieve it, and was discovered several days later in a power-induced coma, same as her workers. The priests revitalized them, but refused to move the stone. According to the article, they hadn’t known it existed, and weren’t about to disturb it again.

  However, the best part of these clippings is that they included a photograph. The artifact in question matches the shape and general design of the other time stones. Unfortunately, it’s hard to say if the stone is still in Kateel or not. It’s been decades since we obtained this article, and most of the new data we’ve collected from the invasion is status reports and enemy movements.

  The screen turns red with enemy blips. I freeze. A scarlet laser blasts from our hull, and a small drone explodes into flame. My jaw drops. “That was our ship!”

  We are surrounded by enemy aircraft, Master Zaytsev. Should we disable them?

  “No!” I bite my tongue and scramble to bring the weapons screen online. Several laser eye power sites open on the forward hull, and another focuses on Commander Rick’s flagship. I furiously tap keys, powering the lasers down.

  What’s going on over the
re? Commander Rick demands.

  I grimace. “It’s a glitch, sir. I’m on it.”

  Get that fixed.

  I nod, shutting down another laser site.

  Master Zaytsev, that airship belongs to the Camaraderie of Evil. We should destroy it.

  “That’s us.” I grit my teeth, trying to find the glitch in my mind.

  A pair of tentacles wrap around my throat and wrists. I gasp for air. I can’t breathe—choking—

  Disappointment radiates through the voices. You are a traitor?

  Panic spits through me. Sweat breaks out along the back of my neck as the tentacles press against my windpipe. “Not—” I’m not a traitor. I need to focus on the coding. Find the glitch. My vision blurs as I search the code, looking through files. There—a small—

  I slump against the chair, dizzy. Focus. I have to change—I have to—

  An image of the rebels’ flying car forms in my head… of me sitting beside Val as we start the engine, as I cut the tracking device and then mentally open the hangar.

  You betrayed us.

  I try to shake my head, but the tentacles restrict my movement. My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “Let me fix this.”

  You would reprogram us. The voices are cold, harsh. The room sways. I try to reach the button to call the commander, but my hand falls short.

  Darkness on my eyes. Peace—there’s a wonderful spinning peace…

  Legion Spore! Stand down and release Master Zaytsev.

  With all due respect, Rickie, the Legion Spore chides, we will not succumb to your oppression!

  Legion Spore, stand down now. The commander’s telepathy slams against me and the Legion Spore, stronger than usual.

  The tentacles release me. I gulp air. My muscles are weak, tingly. I slump against the console. I feel like I’m staring down a steep cliff.

  Master Zaytsev, fix the programming. The commander’s thought-voice is whispery, as if he strained his telepathy when overpowering the Legion Spore.

  I wipe my sleeve against my mouth. I saw the glitch a moment ago…

  The code sharpens in my mind. I establish a lock over the code so the Legion Spore remembers who it’s working for, then press my palm into the call button, trying to speak. My voice comes out garbled. Hopefully the Legion Spore’s attack hasn’t damaged my vocal chords permanently.

  I see your mind, Master Zaytsev. Let me know if there are any other problems. In the meantime, leak the information about the Egyptian stone where the Coalition will notice. And Master Zaytsev?

  I can almost feel him raising a stern, disapproving eyebrow, though his mental thoughts are still faint.

  Next time you would be prudent to remove the assailant’s weapons before trying to change them. Understood?

  Yes, sir, I send the message telepathically through the Legion Spore as I rub my tender throat. Locking the shapeshifting capabilities might have been helpful. Kind of like how Lady Winters removed the life elemental’s powers before she went into his mind.

  “Legion Spore?” I croak, mentally running a search for the best place to leak the Egyptian time stone files.

  Yes, Master Zaytsev?

  “Mind healing my throat?”

  The pain sharpens, then eases away.

  “Thank you.”

  Of course, Master Zaytsev, the vessels says sheepishly. Our apologies.

  I nod, but I’m more concerned at how easily that glitch could have caused more damage. “Cross-reference the data to backup files. How long was that piece of code there?”

  The code for that glitch has been present since our creation.

  “Probably something I said, then.”

  Probably.

  I rub my chin, still shaky. “What would’ve happened if Commander Rick hadn’t stepped in?”

  You would have died of asphyxiation.

  I touch Val’s locket with my finger tips, uneasy. “After that?”

  We would have proceeded to fire on all enemy vessels until our destruction or until the enemy vessels were destroyed.

  “I see.” It’s not a comforting thought. At least Commander Rick still managed to gain control of the Legion Spore during the incident. I rub my throat self-consciously. “Run a simulation—what would the likely outcome of such a battle be?”

  Complete annihilation of enemy vessels.

  I lean my chin against my knuckles, frowning. “Even the commander’s flagship?”

  Yes.

  “What would it take to destroy you?” I ask, curious. Offhand, this vessel has plenty of defensive capabilities. Short of hitting it with a Benjamin’s shield, the thing’s indestructible.

  Unknown, Master Zaytsev. We do not wish to die.

  I blink. Now it has desires, too?

  Perhaps we could preserve ourselves from death. This does seem to be a running theme in your research on the time stones and spirits.

  A chill spreads through me. “Let’s not worry about that right now, shall we?”

  We suppose not, Master Zaytsev.

  I wait to see if it says anything else, but the vessel is silent.

  I crack my knuckles. There has to be a personality code hiding in this program somewhere.

  Emily tangles her fingers in my hair. Her cheek softly brushes mine. She says nothing for minutes, and I feel the ease and fall of her persuasion powers lapping against my spirit. I don’t think she’s aware of it, so I let the calm wash over me. She hasn’t directly used her powers on me since that damned “Lady Winters” broke my defenses. She hasn’t asked me my name, or anything too invasive. Personal, sure, but she seems to want to get to know me, not my secrets. There are only a few days left, she tells me. Only a few days until Brainmaster takes her claim.

  I touch my lips to Emily’s forehead and cradle her chin in my palm. Her light green eyes are rimmed with dark green, like a fragile porcelain dish. “What do you really look like?” I whisper, gently turning her face in my hands.

  She pushes me into the silky sheets. She’s stronger than she looks, and far more agile. Her warmth is a familiar presence in the cold cell. She claims she’s close to getting me to spill the beans, but security doesn’t know Brainmaster already has the information.

  “I thought you didn’t care about appearances.” Her voice lays heavy in my ear—though that could be her hand pulling me into the covers.

  A smile tugs at my lips. “I’m curious; forgive me.”

  The chuckle starts under her breasts and reverberates through her throat. She sits, leaving me with my hands in the pillow behind my head. She got the pillow for me. “What do you expect? A blob of jelly?” She smirks. Her hair falls across her shoulders, and she looks every bit the leader she could be. Granted, it could be a benefit of shapeshifting, but for once, those leader pinups don’t exaggerate. “I’m the third generation to my grandfather’s powers.” She traces the hair along my chest and down to my navel. “I still look… normal.”

  It’s that hesitance I want to see. She’s vulnerable, just like everyone else.

  “Show me.”

  Her smile fades. “I don’t—”

  “You said you wanted to know about love. Lovers don’t keep secrets.”

  Her shoulders slouch as if she’s debating whether to show me or not. I shrug. She’s the one sitting on top of me, not the other way around. “When you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, I’d like to see you for who you are.”

  She blinks, then leans in close. “Our outward forms are not the definition of who we are. Those forms are only how we choose to be viewed. I choose to be a leader, and so I carry myself as one.” She slides off me and nimbly stands on the floor beside the cot.

  I catch my breath.

  Her skin takes a pale blue pigment, hard to distinguish under the LEDs. Translucent, branchlike veins spread under her wrists and arms, and across her chest. She’s petite, shorter, and not nearly as well-endowed as she normally makes herself, and she has a rounder face. It’s not so symmetrical, but really, if I hadn’t
seen her previous form, I doubt I’d see the difference now. Her lips are paler. Her eyes are a crystalline baby blue, with the pupils hard to distinguish.

  “Good God, Emily. If you weren’t trying to hide powers in the Community…”

  She tilts her head, confused.

  “You’re beautiful.” She is. She really is. She looks nothing like the stories I’ve heard of Jellyman—her grandfather.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she says softly. There’s disappointment in her voice. I push myself off the cot and pull her close. She nuzzles her head against my chest and doesn’t let go.

  “Is it flattery if it’s true?” I ask. I try to bring her chin up, but she jerks away. How insecure can she be? For a moment I think she’s crying. But her eyes are dry, just downcast. “Why did you show me?” She must know I’m sincere. I never expected her to show me her natural form.

  She sighs. “I want you to love me. I can’t explain it. But I don’t have much time before you’ll be gone.” Her voice fades. “You’ll be gone like all the others.”

  Damn. Either she’s really good at acting, or she’s being brutally honest. She shivers, and I hold her tighter. “What exactly is going to happen to me?”

  “They’ll take you away to a massive hub. It will take your memory, your mind, and all that remains will be the shell of your body and its access to powers. Sometimes a trace of a thought remains, but that will be removed, in time.”

  Her body shakes and I try to hold her, but my cell feels infinitely smaller. Goosebumps crawl across my back. Somehow, being kept here has made me forget that there’s an outside world where I’m going to be stuck in a tank, where I’m going to lose my memories before transforming into a mindless beastie.

  But she tells me otherwise. She tells me worse.

  I tilt her chin up and stare into her clear, unsettling eyes. “What if I can remember?”

  “You can’t.” Her hands ball against my chest. “You will be gone. You—” She pokes her finger between my clavicle. “You will be a shell. Nothing more.”