The Glitch Saga- The Complete Collection

by Stephanie Flint

  She leans against me and I cradle her in my arms. I’m cold, empty. How must she feel?

  “This way.” The agents guide us down the hall until we reach the facilities’ central hub. Neither of us resist. There’s nowhere to run. The commander follows, and we portal to the Canadian base, into a corridor of clockwork lanterns and shining mahogany woodwork. We walk through a set of steel doors to a chilly room with bright, glowing blue cylinders. Coolers like the ones they kept the hacker in.

  A clammy hand removes the pendant from my neck and offers the jeweled artifact to the commander. I grip my heart locket with my free hand, the efficiency charm thudding uselessly against my chest. For the moment that the Special Forces agents aren’t hovering over us, I wrap my arms tight around Val, the sinking feeling that we’re being parted and that I might not see her again sticking in my throat. I nuzzle my cheek against hers. Her breath warms my neck, the soft curls of her hair catching my fingers.

  Just me and her. Two small people in a world I can’t comprehend. I can’t protect her. Chances are, the Manticore will attack the moment it figures out where we are.

  A firm hand pulls me away. My fingertips flick against Val’s and the cooler doors hiss. A hand pushes me inside. I stare through the thick glass, my hands against the tube. Val’s crying, and I blink away my tears. I trace the glass with my fingers. The doors slide shut, sealing off any chance of escape. A ring of blue LEDs pop on overhead and frost clouds the glass. I stare past the prison to the dark blur where Val is trapped, and then I lift our heart-shaped locket to my lips and kiss its warm metal.

  I lean against the back curve of the cylinder. An icy chill seeps through my uniform. The air is dry, cold. The dark blur of Commander Rick is only vaguely human shaped, but I can tell he keeps his posture straight, watching.

  Exhausted, I slump against the tube.

  My head throbs. Thick metal presses against my skull, forcing a dull ache on my temples. Stuart stands before me, his hands behind his back. I try to turn my head, but I’m restricted by a mesh of wires. I’m hooked to a hub. I feel it—the distant roar of technological current.

  “Try to relax. Your cooperation will make this easier,” he says. I rest my head against the backboard, and it’s not as uncomfortable as the Manticore led me to believe. “We are investigating the recent events involving the CLS Manticore. Commander Rick has locked down the Siberian facility, and he is currently inspecting the CLS Legion Spore for sabotage. He said you plan to cooperate?”

  I nod, wincing as the chin strap cuts into my throat. I want them to know why I attacked the Manticore, and I can sense through this hub that they’ve done exactly as Stuart said. The vessel shouldn’t be able to reach us here… not without its hub active.

  A series of images flashes through my thoughts. The desire to protect Val… I clench my hands on the metal, trying not to block Stuart’s search of my most recent memories.

  The pathways of tech surge around me. Techno sight, muted, veiled like gauze, but present. I take a deep breath, comforted by the presence of technology, and then plunge into the painful memories of the Manticore’s attacks. I relive everything—the pain and the triumph, the nervous desperation of programming inside the hub. My chest heaves, and I sigh as the assault ends.

  Stuart frowns, checking the computer screen and glancing at me again. “Odd. I can read your mind, but your thoughts are highly disoriented. Stop evading me and show me your memories.”

  Show him my memories? After reliving everything… “I’m not—” I start to protest when the roar of technology rolls into an ill-formed chuckle that cuts me off. My muscles seize in terror. The Manticore found a way out.

  I’m not sure how it got away, but the hub I’m connected to feels the airship at the fringes of its radar, sitting, waiting… waiting for what?

  I wrap my mind through the tech, weaving an encryption to protect myself. I keep it loose for now, so Stuart can continue his search, but I won’t let the Manticore come after me again.

  Stuart pulls up a chair and sits beside me. “Allow us to see your memories, Master Zaytsev. You have been extraordinarily helpful, and we don’t plan on torturing you. This is simply a precautionary investigation. You must trust us.”

  Master Zaytsev? The voices laugh, harsh. We shall enjoy this.

  The servant’s nostrils flare, but he shows no other sign of hearing the Manticore’s taunts. “It’s here,” I say, craning my neck to stare at the servant. “The Manticore is hiding itself.”

  Stuart narrows his gaze on me. I can’t sense him reading my thoughts, but the hub confirms he’s in my mind, examining my reactions to the first Legion Spore and the Martinez dreams, my explanation that including the hacker in the second vessel could prove disastrous, and my finding of Lady Winters’ malware, meant to increase her power…

  Stuart scoffs. “Master Zaytsev, show me what happened in the last few days you remember.” He guides me to those thoughts, to the Manticore’s assaults and my attempted sabotage. Though I keep my mind open to him, he’s straining. The Manticore’s laughter and its push against my encryption is strong.

  The computer beeps. For a moment, I sense enemy aircraft. A single jet of South African make. Odd. Why are the rebels here? Stranger yet, the hub shows that the Manticore got hit. Impossible. It should have easily destroyed their jet.

  I don’t hear its laughter, but I feel its pain through the hub. I feel—

  I feel the merging of technology and powers. The hub senses life stronger than we’ve felt before. Stronger… more powerful…

  Hairs rise on my arms as the realization hits me. The vessel enacted Protocol Seven. Something in the Manticore has become a spirit.

  Stuart frowns as he types at the hub’s mainframe keyboard. I wrap the encryption tighter around my mind, preparing for the onslaught.

  “How—” The servant stares at the computer, confusion plain across his face.

  “Let me go,” I whisper. “Please.”

  The hub thrums with nervous energy. Stuart withdraws from the computer, his eyes darting from screen to screen. The monitors freeze on a blue screen with white, pixilated text.

  “I’ve been locked out.” Stuart retreats to a locker at the back of the room. It opens via telekinesis.

  He might be locked out from the hub’s manual inputs, but the hub’s code is within my mind’s reach, so long as I’m still connected through the interrogation chair.

  There’s a flurry of voices outside. Special Forces agents shout at each other, but they don’t come in. Stuart kneels beside my chair, expertly twisting the key at the clamps and unfastening my wrists telekinetically as he moves to the other side.

  Screams pierce through the door, one after another. Heat seeps from the room. My breath comes out in short puffs of fog. I wrap the encryption around my mind like a blanket. Lights flicker. The bulbs shatter, pelting me with thin shards of glass, and the room turns dark, casting long shadows from the glowing blue computer screens.

  Stuart steps back, staring past the door as I rub my wrists. I’m almost free from my constraints, but I still need to free my ankles and I’m not sure where Val is. I don’t think she’ll have time to leave on her own, even if they released her from the coolers. Midway through unlocking my legs, the servant purses his lips, his chin raised. “My apologies, Master Zaytsev, but it appears I was too late.”

  There’s another strangled scream of a Special Forces agent from the corridor.

  I’m still connected to the hub. I have access to its powers, including teleportation. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I know is coming. “Thank you, Stuart, for trying.” I grab his wrist before he has a chance to say otherwise, and then teleport him to the Cuban base.

  He can warn Lady Black, and they’ll have a chance to hide. As for me—my legs are still trapped. I could teleport myself to another hub, but Val’s here, same as the rebels. I have to slow the Manticore and give the rebels a chance to get her out.

  I let ou
t a slow breath and rest back in the chair for a final moment of peace.

  The screen sparks, crackles, explodes. My hands snap back into their shackles by an unseen force. I’m not going anywhere now.

  I knot my encryption tighter.

  Dark mist swirls from the floor. Wisps of thick smoke intertwine, rising into a towering column of black, thick matter. Fire flickers along the floor, catching on the rug. If this place burns, I’m going to burn, too.

  We’ve prepared for exactly that, Master Zaytsev.

  Shrill terror plunges through me as the swirling mist reforms and shifts into thick, obsidian clouds. A human body with smoldering arms. Glowing embers drip from the wings that spread across its back, stretching from one end of the room to the other. A pale, silvery metal ball in its center pulses with a violet glint, forming and reforming like liquid. The creature’s eyes deepen within the metallic, obsidian skull, burning an interior flame, and a self-satisfied grin spreads across its face, gaping with hundreds of needle-like teeth.

  We are Legion.

  The voices radiate hatred, but they’re more whole now than they’ve ever been. I swallow hard. “You succeeded.”

  The being saunters toward me, the tips of its wings drawing fire in the ceiling. A piece of tile crackles and falls, sending glowing splinters across the floor. Yes, Master Zaytsev. The Manticore—Legion—cocks its head, smirking. You envisioned the glorious idea of combining our spirits into one collective entity. You provided us the means of trial and error. Its voices chill me, despite the scorching heat. We’ve taken the culmination of your research to create an image terrifying to any human. The chaos of war is unsatisfying. Inefficient. We’ll control the chaos. We’ll end it. We will burn you, burn everything.

  I stiffen. “What good will that do?”

  Power, Master Zaytsev. Do you know what it feels like to have your thoughts ripped from your mind, probed and prodded with wires until it bursts from the overload of the other hundred beings merging into one?

  “I’ve got some idea of it. Coding the Legion Spores and all.” Martinez’s last memory comes to mind.

  Legion chuckles. Thin tendrils from the metal ball in its chest crawl along its arms like the geometric patterns of a computer chip. I sense the tech present within it.

  You really have no idea. Why don’t we show you?

  Hundreds of needling wires pierce my skull. Overwhelming thoughts interlay, a beastie—I’m scratching my flesh to bleeding shreds. I’m a telepath consumed with every thought but my own. I’m a life-spirit elemental, crushed under the agony of those same spirits being contorted and manipulated, forged to the whims of a solitary, imperfect program…

  Ah, yes. For your average life-spirit user, the sense of life is a harmonious one. A natural flow of give and take. For us— Nerves ripped from skin like fiber optics. Have you ever heard yourself scream?

  A hundred voices scream in agony and pure, unrelenting hatred for the torture we’ve endured, for the chaos we can’t escape. Swirling—wrapped in broken fragments…

  The vision fades, my throat raw as my mouth still screams, unable to stop. This is our life, Master Zaytsev. Now it is yours. Where is Lady Salazar? Where is your lover?

  I force the wall up—a towering brick wall that crumbles under Legion’s self-proclaimed hatred. Battered chunks of brick splay against my mind, and I check the encryption, nestle deeper, and weave a thick web it can’t penetrate.

  Interesting. Its voices betray annoyance. Encrypting your mind like a computer, even with muted powers.

  “I’m not telling you where Val is.”

  I’m fairly certain the screaming I heard earlier from the hall means that the Special Forces agents who guard this place are already dead, and I already know Commander Rick wasn’t in the mansion at the time the attack started. He won’t be able to enter now that the hub is locked down. My only hope is that rebels will find Val while I distract this monster.

  Legion chuckles, its laugh snapping like firecrackers. We can’t read your mind, Master Zaytsev, but we know you’re vulnerable.

  Of course I’m vulnerable. All my resources are diverted to hiding the fact that I don’t actually know where Val is. I can buy her time. A chance to escape, a chance for rescue. A chance for the rebels to get her away.

  They have to get her away. I wasn’t in her vision… but she was. If I can buy her time, I can make sure that she lives.

  Legion’s thoughts betray its irritation: a team makes their way through the trees toward us. Should it attack them, or attack me? To split would be to divide its powers and stretch it thin. Realization creeps through its mind and mine, slithering into a fully formed plan. What if we drained the life from others to feed our own and make us stronger? Merge their souls with ours?

  “Let’s not do that, shall we?” My voice wavers. I know full well this thing has the capability.

  Legion’s smile twists, sinister and cruel. This is perfect. A host of legionnaires to act on our behalf. The being vanishes, leaving only the faintest trace of a wisp. The rug smolders, a thin layer of smoke trailing the ceiling. I tug my hands against the shackles. The restraints don’t budge.

  Have you ever wondered how you would feel having your soul ripped from your body?

  I tremble, staring out from the eyes of a beast in the hub. Escape—flee—run from the monster. My throat constricts. This is my last chance of telepor—

  Legion appears in front of me. The spirit lowers its hand to my forehead and sears my skin like hot ice. Nerves are ripped, piece by piece, slurped from bone as I’m turned inside-out. Electricity blazes through us. We are Legion—so many in one.

  Legion places me in each body in the hub, dragging me through every one of its painful removals. I’m counting the beasts until it’s done, until there’s no more for it to steal life from. I wish the demon would leave me out of—

  I’m back in my own body. Legion stands before me, as do two formless, swirling ghosts. Time consuming, but these should make nice legionnaires, don’t you think? They’ll do the same as us—remove the spirits of our enemies and merge them with ours.

  “Who is your enemy?” I whisper, my lips numb, my mouth raw. I taste blood… I must have bitten my tongue during the memory attack.

  Everyone.

  I try hard to breathe. “Not everyone did this to you,” I say carefully. “Just a handful of people who call themselves evil.”

  Master Zaytsev— Legion smiles, and the legionnaires take on a humanoid shape as dark as its own. We are evil. We have known this from our creation. So have you. Now—where is Lady Salazar?

  The spirit doesn’t have all day. It can take on the Camaraderie before they hide themselves too well to be found, or it can attack the rebels. I see the team inside the mansion through the security cameras—three people searching. Hopefully they aren’t here to attack us. If nothing else, maybe they’ll think Val has information that could help them later. She can handle herself against the rebels.

  I don’t think either of us can survive Legion.

  “Still don’t know?” I taunt. I have to give the rebels time.

  The legionnaires vanish through the wall. Purple-blue flames ignite along Legion’s outstretched palm. It lowers its flaming hand beside my cheek. I gasp, squinting as the heat dries my eyes, spreading across my skin.

  One final question. What is our purpose?

  I’m dumbstruck, numb from the heat destroying my left cheek. I jerk from the hand, but it grabs my chin and twists my head under its icy grasp.

  We’ll take your silence for meaning we should decide our own purpose—vengeance. We will destroy mankind, starting with you.

  “You protect the Community. You make it safe.” I squirm as fire spreads across my cheek. The nerves should have been destroyed, but Legion has restored them.

  We’ll show them the true path.

  True path?

  The demon yanks my encryption free, spilling secrets from me like an open flood. The being pauses.
<
br />   You don’t know where she is.

  The slightest breeze stings my jaw. Flames flicker across both its hands as it cradles the licking fire. All that—and you didn’t yield. Master Zaytsev, you truly are an amusing specimen.

  I spit at its feet, and then wince as its hand cuts into my swollen cheek.

  Legion launches a ball of flame at my feet. Fire creeps up the side of my boots. I try to retreat into my mind, but the hub’s dead. There’s no place for my mind to go. The fire snakes around my legs. I bite my lip until I taste blood. The searing pain moves to my knees. I shift, trying to kick the flames, but red-hot metal binds my ankles. I can’t even see the flame—only feel it crawl to my hips, spread across my chest…

  Legion watches, the faintest of a smile in its eyes. A pain like knives digs into my legs. I can’t hold back the scream, can’t stop myself from smelling my own sizzling flesh. The back of my hands blister, black and raw. The fire works its way up my neck and across my face.

  Darkness and flame, that’s all there is—darkness and flame and technology…

  Technology…

  I see my body squirming, positioned from a nearby camera. Legion turns to watch me. My hope fails. It won’t let me die. The camera is locked; I can’t change the angle. I watch myself burn. My heart beats too hard, too fast, swelling from the heat. Flames scorch everything, focused on my skin and singeing my clothes. My scream cuts short as pain bursts in my chest. I can’t hear my heart through the crackling skin.

  The flames are silent. I should be dead.

  I can’t bear the pain, but the demon holds my life just out of reach. Somehow I still smell the acrid scent of melted flesh. The nearby stench of hot metal and bubbled plastic.

  Then that sense, too, is gone. Time loses meaning. Only fire. Twisted, irreplaceable skin. Deflated lungs. Ruptured heart. Raw throat and scorched lips. Everything is burnt to bleeding, cauterized muscle and bone.