The demon leers over my dead body. You’re just a glitch, Master Zaytsev. Nothing more than a glitch. It teleports away, leaving me to my burning remains. Minutes pass—hours—I see nothing but what the camera sees, hear what the camera records.
A door slams against its hinges.
A gruff man strides through the room, pausing to look at my corpse. He moves on—I’m not a life-spirit user—no chance I’m still alive, though a flurry of ones and zeroes runs through the mansion’s computers like living passageways of tech. I feel the generator running on reserves…
Back to the camera. A short-haired figure—Jenna—stops before my shriveled body. She retreats, then removes something from the remains of my neck. The locket. A trickle of a laugh bubbles in my thoughts. Something will live on, then. She has the locket.
A second man steps into view, aiding a groggy figure.
Val.
The technological pathways surge. Despite the legionnaires, the rebels came for us. Too late for me, but they came for us. Val’s alive. They’ve rescued her. She’ll live. My consciousness slips, fading, and I pull more power from the generator. I—
Five percent remaining.
Awareness. Confusion. A glitch…
You’re just a glitch, Master Zaytsev.
I feel this, too, a personality embedded in the mainframe. Locked like a ghost in the Legion Spore. Numbness settles over me, though I’m no longer sure what me is. My body is dead. I see that as clearly as I see Jenna run from one of the rooms with a time stone the Camaraderie captured while I oversaw the first Legion Spore.
There’s only one stone left, and Val knows its location.
Power surges in the circuits of the computer, matching my excitement. If the rebels get the stone, if they escape Legion, the rebels have a chance to survive, which means Val survives.
I need to know that they survive.
Power ticks, draining the reserves.
I shut down all non-vital functions. All the cameras but the ones near the rebels, and reroute everything to me… to my glitch. The rebels run through the halls, run from the dark wisps. Val staggers alongside them, helping them evade the legionnaires. Pleasure rushes through my program. She always was useful against spirits—though this time she uses intuition, not just electricity.
One camera off, another on.
Val and the rebels run into the snowy forest, and then disappear from view into the thick, snowy aspen and pine.
Three percent remaining.
The white-gray sky is empty, but scanners reveal a blip on the radar, a blip that quickly speeds to the fringes of Camaraderie airspace before it disappears.
They survived. They live to fight another day.
One percent remaining.
The electric current from the generator dims, almost too low to register.
I love you, Val. Be safe.
The empty sky fades as the camera’s image grows fuzzy.
Darker, darker, then gone.
The CLS Legion Spore hovers above the steel floor of the hangar bay, its pulpy mass highlighted under blue light. Shadows splay across the steel, a wavering array of gray shades caught in its tentacles like ghosts. A chilly, air-conditioned draft whispers through the hangar, rustling the shawl on Lady Black’s shoulders. She tangles her fingers through a knot in her hair, her eyes never leaving the ship.
They created a monster.
The last she has heard from Stuart is that the CLS Manticore escaped its confines and now the mansion—her home—is under attack. That was several hours ago and, since then, there has only been radio silence.
But the first Legion Spore… it would never attack them. Not like that. Not while it has Martinez’s memories.
She reaches her hand to the diamond pendant on her breast and grasps listlessly at the place where it’s missing. The pendant disappeared shortly after the attack.
“What have we done?” she whispers. Had they finally gone too far?
You helped create an organic airship, the second of its kind, the Legion Spore responds matter-of-factly.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
No… perhaps not. Disappointment radiates from its thoughts. You have… regrets?
She lowers her eyes. “I could have done more to stop Lady Winters, to stop your creation—”
We do not mind our existence, the Legion Spore replies. Master Zaytsev removed our pain. He helped us. The airship pauses. He helped you.
“Yes.” Her mind drifts to the files the Legion Spore compiled for her. The memories Master Zaytsev discovered. To see what was in Martinez’s mind… to know he really did love her…
Her eyes water, and she quickly wipes away the tears before they can form. She can’t let others see what she feels, otherwise they might use her emotions against her. She must always put on a calm veneer.
Several eyes form on the airship’s outer hull, watching her. My lady? You do not have to hide your feelings from us.
One of the eyes blink.
A sad smile tugs at her lips. When she first saw this monstrosity, its eyes were red or gold, and could not blink. The ship was a lumpy mass of muscle. Now it is complete. Still terrifying, but almost elegant. Its eyes are gold, brown, and green. Its hull is covered in leathery skin that resembles a reddish-brown elephant. Its fins are still pink-tinted, but they glint under the lights, translucent, almost purple.
They’re actually kind of pretty.
Thank you, my lady. The ship’s voices ripple with pleasure. We are glad to finally be whole.
“You feel whole now?”
Well… we still lack a pilot, the Legion Spore admits. A pilot would complete us. But now that we know what is missing, we can compensate. After all, we are legion. Many components, working together as one. The ship straightens itself a little, tucking its tentacles underneath itself proudly.
Perhaps it is just the second one that went rogue, since its personality was influenced by the OA hacker. Perhaps this one will protect her, since Martinez was the one who remembered… the one who remained when the transformation took place.
Of course we will protect you, my lady. Always. We could never hurt you.
“That is kind of you,” she starts, but the door hisses open and Stuart enters. He strides across the room to meet her, a determined sureness in his step. She frowns. He was interrogating Timothy when she got alert of the attack.
“Where is Master Zaytsev and Lady Salazar?” she asks.
He takes a deep breath. “They didn’t make it out with me.”
She stares at him. “How—”
He holds up his hand. “I am afraid Master Zaytsev didn’t understand my purpose there. He hacked into the hub once he sensed trouble, and he sent me away before I could stop him.”
Lady Black twists her lips, skeptical. Stuart doesn’t allow for mistakes. He expects too much of everyone, including himself.
Including her.
His expectations are for the better, of course. She has always been stronger, which has served her well. But there are times… times when she does not wish to be among the elite.
She glances toward the CLS Legion Spore, to the ship where Martinez found his resting place.
If those expectations had not been placed upon her, he might still be alive.
Stuart frowns, but he does not chide her for her thoughts. Just… understands. As he always does.
“Master Zaytsev was able to distract the spirit,” he continues, his voice gentle, “long enough that the rebels were able to find Lady Salazar. They have her in their custody and are holding her hostage. As for Master Zaytsev, he perished at the hands of Legion.”
A wave of sadness floods through her from the Legion Spore. She takes a strangled breath. Strange, how much the ship must have cared for the young man, even when it was not supposed to have feelings.
Stuart gives the ship a concerned glance. He must have felt the airship’s sorrow. But beneath the sorrow, her own anger simmers.
“That’s what the spirit calls itself? Legion?” Lady Black swallows hard, not allowing her emotions to show. Her grandfather taught her that self-control is important, and she isn’t about to reveal her frustration. You could have saved him.
“Once he sent me away, I could not regain access to the hub. Believe me, I tried.”
She raises her chin. “Why did Legion kill Master Zaytsev?”
“I believe the entity intends to make itself feared, and is bent on revenge. We will need to keep you hidden until we can destroy it.”
“Any idea of what its artifact might be?” She glances over her shoulder, back to the first Legion Spore. Its fins ripple, and it has hovered just a bit closer, as if it is listening.
Could it become a spirit like the other ship?
We would prefer not to become something so… angry, the Legion Spore sends hesitantly.
Stuart sighs. “I have a theory about Legion’s artifact, but Benjamin seems to have vanished with the pendants, and I can’t confirm my suspicions.”
“Benjamin is gone, too?” She feels strangely naked without the pendant on her chest. Without the strength of power it represents. The last time she felt so naked was with Martinez. Open… laid bare…
You don’t need the pendant to be strong, my lady, the Legion Spore suggests.
Stuart quirks an eyebrow, his hands tucked behind his back. His gaze rests upon the airship. “You feel safe here, don’t you?”
“I am safe,” she asserts firmly. “The Legion Spore won’t hurt me.”
The Legion Spore sends a purr of satisfaction to her thoughts, and she smiles. The airship knows when it is appreciated.
Stuart works his jaw. “It seems Master Zaytsev was right about Martinez’s memories. Martinez was stronger than I thought.” The airship sends a little snort of satisfaction into the back of her mind, and she resists the urge to chide it. Stuart raises his eyes to meet hers. “I am truly sorry, Emily, for what happened. Even an old man makes mistakes.”
Her lips part soundlessly. She can’t quite work out what to say. There’s a trill of surprise from the Legion Spore, and interest. You did not expect him to apologize.
No, she thinks. But Stuart had acknowledged her… and Martinez.
“I forgive you.”
Stuart inclines his head. “I will alert you to further developments as I receive them. Commander Rick will begin prepping the CLS Legion Spore tomorrow. He will take the vessel to Kateel, and we will see if the leaks about the time stone pay off. If he captures even one of the Coalition members, we will be able to stage a rescue for Lady Salazar.”
Perhaps you could propose an alliance, the Legion Spore suggests. Master Zaytsev seemed fond of Miss Nickleson. If they share a similar mindset, perhaps she can fill his place. She had our memories.
Both Stuart and Lady Black give the Legion Spore a sharp look.
We do not mean, of course, that we are not sad for the loss, the ship clarifies quickly. Master Zaytsev was a good pilot.
“What do you mean, she has your memories?” Stuart asks, his voice edging on threatening.
We sensed her mind briefly during our first attack on the Oriental Alliance base in Japan. She had our memories from the transformation. She had our pain.
“Lady Winters,” Lady Black suggests.
Yes. Master Zaytsev seemed to think she had used our memories to attack Miss Nickleson.
“I wonder if she still has those memories,” Stuart murmurs. “I will alert Commander Rick to the possibility. Miss Nickleson may be more than willing to work with us if she has not been able to remove Lady Winters’ memory seeds.” He nods to Lady Black and then strides from the large room, his shoes echoing with the fall of his feet.
Once she is sure he is gone, Lady Black steps toward the Legion Spore. “May I see him?”
The airship extends a tentacle and she takes it delicately.
She’s inside the airship. The hall is warm, smelling faintly of a horse that has been galloping and only now slowed to turn gracefully. The hull consists of leather walls, and the floor is a smooth, ivory walkway.
The hub is upstairs, my lady.
Her breath catches in her throat. The voices are more unified than before. She wanders along the corridor, listening to the soft rhythm of the Legion Spore’s breathing. Her heart beats fast in anticipation. She climbs the ladder to the second deck, and then finds the hub columns. She takes a deep breath. “Legion Spore—please reveal Hernando Martinez.”
The muscles squelch, then part, revealing the metal grid that holds each occupant hostage. Martinez sits in one the chairs, his hands resting against the metal arms, his wrists strapped in place. His head is restricted from movement by a metal band and twisting wires. His eyes are closed. His skin is pale, as if he is a corpse prepared for a visitation. His bare chest rises and falls with the breathing of the vessel.
She lets out her breath. “Martinez… I’m so sorry. I couldn’t…” Her voice hitches in her throat. “I couldn’t save you.”
He harbored no ill feelings toward you. We think… we think that is why we desire to protect you now.
“I know,” she hiccups. “Thank you for compiling the files.”
You are quite welcome, though Master Zaytsev is the one who thought you might want to see those memories.
Her chest constricts. She couldn’t save either of them. Though she wasn’t there, she wishes she could have done something to help.
We think the late Master Zaytsev would most appreciate if Lady Salazar and their child were kept safe. Perhaps, once we confront the rebels in Kateel, perhaps you can keep his family from harm. Legion will try to hunt them, just as it will try to hunt you.
“Let it try,” she muttered. The damned thing was just another aspect of Lady Winters’ legacy. “We will destroy it.”
Yes, my lady. And we will do our best to protect you, of course.
She kneels besides Martinez’s body and traces her fingers along his cheekbones. The Legion Spore’s hull shudders. “You proved me wrong,” she whispers to Martinez. “You remembered me. Thank you. I…” She swallows hard, and this time she allows the tears to come. “I love you, too.” She leans over him, touches her lips to his cold forehead, and leaves behind her kiss.
She stands, her chin raised high, and steps away from the hub. “Thank you… for everything. Legion Spore, you may close the hub.”
Of course, my lady. You are welcome. The Legion Spore pauses. A strange, haunting melody sifts through the hall and through her mind. Goosebumps form on her bare arms. She finds a place against the leathery wall of the corridor and then she sits, closes her eyes, and listens as the vessel sings, “Here’s to our comrades and our calling, thanking their lives that we’re saved.”
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The story continues in the second book of the Distant Horizon series: Fractured Skies…
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A lot of work goes into producing a book, and while it may be impossible (or nearly impossible), to pinpoint everyone who was involved, we would like to take a moment to acknowledge those who have helped shape this story into what it is today.
First off, a thank you to our families, who have been supportive of our endeavors (both our creative ones, and our real-life ones). It is an immen
se relief to know that you are there for us.
Next, a thank you to the many beta-readers who have read Glitch in its entirety and provided feedback on what you loved, what you hated, and what didn’t make sense. It goes without saying that certain scenes would have happened a bit differently if you hadn’t read the book and left the feedback you did.
We also want to thank the writers who spurred along the process, from those who read unfinished story chapters, those who helped us polish our blurb, and those who offered advice—online and offline: the Absolute Write online forum, For Love or Money (a Facebook group, no longer open), 20Booksto50K (also a Facebook group), the Writers of Warrensburg, and the writers at the local group in the UP. Your feedback and encouragement has been invaluable.
Last but not least, we want to thank you, the reader. Without you, our stories would exist in a void. We hope you enjoyed the journey as much as we have.
The Community is efficient,
Stephanie and Isaac Flint
Stephanie and Isaac Flint met at the University of Central Missouri, where they soon discovered a common interest in world-building and tabletop role-play games. The Distant Horizon universe is their first joint world, the result of a role-play game Isaac ran in the summer of 2010. After graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Photography for Stephanie and a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology for Isaac, Stephanie and Isaac married in 2012. Together, they plot stories, torment each other’s characters, and enjoy the occasional cosplay.
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