by J M Guillen
“On a cycle, I bet.” I remembered Firenzei’s assertion that ‘once the next cycle terminated,’ they could leave.
“That may be it, Hoss.” Wyatt gave me a toothy grin. “First, steal their transmitters—and I’d bet they’re exactly like the little bronze doodad Thorne used to jump ship.”
“I’d bet you’re right,” I agreed.
“Next,” he continued, “blow their Parabola right the fuck up. Then skip town and leave ’em hangin’. Simple.”
“Sounds like it.” I eyed the eerie floating woman as my heart sank. “Maybe too simple.”
“Can you direct us to the Parabola?” Anya stepped closer to the Kab. “If you do so, it is possible we can disable the device.”
WE CAN PROVIDE MORE THAN THIS, ANYA PETROVA. The woman cocked her head as she spoke. ONCE YOU ARE PREPARED TO BEGIN THE OPERATION, WE WILL PROVIDE YOU WITH AN ESCORT TO THE PRECISE LOCATION OF THE MECHANISM.
“That’s it then. Easy-peasy.” Wyatt shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his Stetson. “That’s all I need to know.”
“Yeah.” I turned from him to the igneous guardian. “Me too.”
Yet some intuition nagged at me. I trusted the molten figure— it gave me no reason to believe it might have deceived us. In fact, the moment we’d begun to discuss our options, our situation had come into focus.
Clear, perfect focus. Our situation made sense.
That bothered me.
In my time with the Facility, I’d been on dozens and dozens of bizarre dossiers. I’d seen otherworldly horrors, witnessed mad humans summoning aberrations from the stark shadows outside reality.
I’d experienced wonders and horrors that beggared the imagination. Yet, now we had a clear direction, an obvious path. As Wyatt said, the situation had become simple.
In my experience, that’s the way things always were…
Right before they went to hell.
2
“Kavasti.” The night-skinned young woman, now released from the will of the igneous intellect, gestured for us to follow her down a narrow, winding passageway.
Over her left hand, a sphere of the molten metal floated, casting eerie light around us.
The entire hall gleamed subtly, every surface comprised of black, mirrored stone. Our shadows loomed stark behind us.
She gestured again, impatiently waving us onward.
“Yes. Forward.” Wyatt rolled his eyes.
“Where else would we go?” I glanced at Wyatt, who wore the slightest smirk on his face.
We followed her through the winding passages for fifteen minutes, according to my system.
“There have been plenty of opportunities for us to wander into other openings,” Anya noted. “This is a warren of corridors. We never would have found our way through them.”
“I’m hopin’ the Irrat assholes never found their way into this warren,” Wyatt grumbled. “It’s one thing if we have a secret passage through the place. It’s another if we have to fight in here. There’s no room.”
I should be in front, I linked. If anything does come along, it’s up to Hillbilly Hank to take them out. I can’t possibly aim past all three of you.
Rosie will take care of it. Wyatt caressed the business end of the Tangler. We’ll be just fine.
Before I could wittily retort, the Kab woman halted in place and traced her slender fingers along the smooth stone wall. She then leaned close to the surface and pressed her ear against its coolness.
“Kim lo gionva,” she whispered and gestured at Wyatt.
“I completely understand what you’re saying right now.” He nodded seriously. “I find your plan both brilliant and wise.”
“There is something on the other side of that surface,” Anya informed us. Her head twitched once, then again, as her right hand drifted higher. Her fingertips pulled and plucked at her interface as she read her data.
Interesting point, I linked to Wyatt. Anya just told us her interface is largely metaphorical. Yet ol’ magma-face really seems to speak her language.
Didn’t seem that metaphorical, did it? Wyatt asked. Pattern strings and all.
That’s what I mean! I frowned. Then there’s that “Ordinal Stone” bit. I mean, the Designates use an Ordinal slate to process data!
I’ve opted to ignore the oddities of this place for now. Wyatt slid his gaze in my direction and raised an eyebrow. It’s a little too creepy. The Facility obviously had dealin’s in this realm, but I can’t imagine what that’s all about.
I’m surprised you don’t think it’s about reptilians. Maybe it’s some Atlantean conspiracy?
We don’t talk about Atlantean conspiracies. Wyatt pulled the Stetson low on his head. At least not without the Illuminati findin’ out about it.
“Ambient Rationality is significantly modified approximately twenty-five meters in this direction.” Anya gestured at the wall.
“We can’t exactly phase through solid stone.” I gently knocked at the surface, wishing I’d taken the Spectre instead of the Wraith.
“Kith!” the Kab hissed and grabbed my hand to stop the knocking. She shook her head violently.
“Sorry.” I backed away from the wall. “It might help if you could actually give us some direction here.”
“Ki’zaer Mud a’lib.” She traced her fingers along the smoothness of the wall again. Her brow creased and she bit her lip, as if concentrating. Then she stopped and gave us a brief smile. “Karaza.” She pushed on a small indentation.
With the slightest whisper of pressure, the stone swung outward, just a centimeter or two. A stream of white light shone into our narrow passage.
“Well, that’s handy.” Wyatt arched an eyebrow at Anya, then me.
“Kith!” the young woman hissed again, a syllable I assumed meant ‘Shut your Facility hole!’ She gestured meaningfully at the slender opening and pushed it just a touch wider.
“Ah.” I nodded. “This might be a good time for someone to be invisible.”
“Rationality remains altered in this location,” Anya informed me.
“You usually give more information than that, Twitchy,” Wyatt drawled.
“Typically my readings are static.” She plucked with the fingers of her left hand as she spoke. “Oftentimes ambient Rationality is altered a few points or specifically weakened at a location.”
“Here, I assume it’s weird?” I gave her what I hoped was a wry smile. “Like the laws of physics are on fire or have become sentient snakes or something?”
“For reasons I cannot ascertain, the baseline axiomatic numerics continue to shift.” She frowned, focusing upon her visual array. “Nothing fatal. It is not as if the air becomes unbreathable or the temperature fluctuates wildly. It is simply that physics grow more fluid as we continue onward.”
“Well, that’s both meaningless and terrifying.” I nodded, slipping past her in the narrow corridor. “How’s the nature of light? Is the Wraith going to explode or melt my face or something?”
“Not immediately, no.” Anya gave me the tiniest hint of a nod. “I show only a seven percent probability of the Wraith creating cascading errors through your perceptual nodes.”
“Wait.” I halted in place. “You’re serious?”
“It is quite unlikely initiating the packet will immediately terminate your visual array,” she said, not at all soothingly. “I feel confident in my capability to inform you before that happens.”
“Great.” I gave her a wan smile. “That’s just wonderful.”
“I suggest not leaving the Wraith toggled longer than is absolutely necessary. As long as you do not overrely on the packet, you should be fine.”
“Understood.” I stepped past her, hugging the wall to slip by Wyatt.
“Kiravista Dun lo,” the Kab hissed as I approached. She gestured sharply through the crevice, as if I might not understand the need for secrecy.
“Kith!” I responded, half mockingly.
The woman’s eyes grew wide, stunned.
&
nbsp; I toggled the Wraith and faded from sight entirely.
“K’ora dama nun.” She nodded her approval and pushed the wall a bit more.
As soon as the gap widened sufficiently, I slipped through. Static immediately crackled at the edge of my visual array.
Anya! I fought to keep the panic out of my link. Tell me the Wraith is fine.
You are well within functionality, Michael. I felt her certainty. I will inform you if packet degradation begins.
Good. I couldn’t help but shake my head. Because I don’t want that.
The broad passageway appeared easily wide enough for three or four Wyatts to walk abreast. Unlike the slender, obsidian corridor we’d slipped through, this portion of the Atrificia resembled the Cavern Bay doors. Metal and glass gleamed all around me, obviously newer construction.
So, do we assume the invading parasite is responsible for the sci-fi look? I peered to my left, as far down the passage as possible. The hallway in that direction terminated in a thick, stainless-steel door, complete with one of those annoying biometric readers.
I am uncertain what you mean, Michael. Anya paused. It appears the fluidity in ambient Rationality originates from your right, functional north.
Copy that. I turned right and ghosted down the hallway.
I assume Mr. Fancy Pants is referring to the differences we found in the structure, Wyatt linked. Outside all stainless-steel and futuristic glass. Yet the deeper we went inside, the more it seemed like sculpted caverns of stone.
My pants aren’t that fancy. Ahead, the passageway turned to the right at a ninety-degree angle toward functional east. But yes. I wonder if our parasitical invaders made the construction upgrades.
I don’t know that the Kabs have the technological mastery to create some of what we’ve seen, Wyatt mused. It makes sense that squiggly might have been responsible.
We don’t know squiggly is the parasite, I realized. Think about this: Remember how we noticed the script on the hem of the Kabs’ robes? We saw the same symbols on the infected goons outside.
Hey. I felt Wyatt’s sudden confusion. That’s true! D’ you think the goons used to be on the Kabs’ side?
Man, I don’t even know. I peeked around the corner. It’s just something to think about.
The passageway beyond stretched for approximately ten meters. Like the one I stood in, the construct displayed all the hallmarks of a 1950s sci-fi flick. Gleaming metal surfaces shone on all sides, only interrupted by panels of blipping lights and busy readout screens.
Also, two complete jerks stood at the end of the passage.
I mean, I assumed they were jerks. Just like the ones we’d encountered earlier, they wore black riot gear and held automatic weapons. They jerkily stood guarding a doorway comprised mostly of glass, a thick and imposing structure that menaced in its own right.
Each appeared ready, focused. Not men I should take lightly.
I’ve made contact, I informed my cadre. Two jerks, guarding a door. About ten meters away.
Jerks? Anya’s link felt a bit confused.
They’re obviously jerks, Anya, Wyatt explained, shaking his head. I mean, they’re guarding a door.
Exactly. I nodded at my friend, over the link. Thank you.
The source of the variables in ambient Rationality is approximately fifteen meters from you, as of now. I would suggest this effect might be caused by the Parabola.
I assumed, I linked as I studied the men. I suppose I need to take these guys out so we can continue.
I would suggest haste, Michael, Anya linked. I do not particularly like the most recent tele-axiomatic ping that the Wraith sent. I believe you should shut it down as soon as possible.
Copy that. I sighed.
Hadn’t I just been concerned nothing could ever be simple?
Whisper quiet, I drew the katana from their shoulder sheaths. Once clear, I toggled the Adept, delighting at the silvery alacrity that flowed, tingling, through my limbs.
The Adept is active, I linked. If this will make my skin catch fire, please let me know.
I will let you know if that is going to happen, Anya linked in full seriousness.
I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Then I sprinted into the hallway.
3
The Wraith did a bit more than simply alter the workings of light. While its photic veil and diaphanic emitter rendered me nearly invisible, other workings altered the nature of sound and muffle my movement. It wasn’t complete silence, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a damned sight better than nothing.
I could easily race toward the two men without being heard.
That was, if the men were baseline humans.
“Hey,” one of the men said as I darted forward. His eyes opened wide, burning brilliantly as he stared squarely at me. Around him, a shadowy nimbus began to take form. “HEY!”
Michael, I read fluctuations in ambient Rationality, four meters in front of you.
Fuck.
When I leapt, the Adept guided my every motion. I drifted through the air, poetry and swiftness and inhuman grace. Both of my blades already swung toward him, slicing through the air.
Yet the jerk moved faster.
He ducked low, easily dodging the space where my katana would have sliced through his neck. With one fluid movement, he rolled to the side and brought his automatic rifle up.
Shots barked at the same moment projectiles slammed into my calf and quadriceps.
FUCK! I linked. Hit! I’m hit!
Shit, Wyatt swore. Okay, Hoss. Incoming.
“What the hell?” The second man stared at his comrade, confusion splayed across his face.
“Shoot! Shoot, you idiot!”
“At what?”
I fell flat, my leg a burning fury of pain. I couldn’t tell if the shots had actually torn through the quasi-steel, but even if the bullets hadn’t pierced my slacks, they still hurt like a motherfucker.
Yet the Wraith remained powered up, as had the Adept. The mere fact that my packets hadn’t undergone pattern loss implied I didn’t currently suffer from a mecha shortage.
I might still be in this.
No sooner did I have the thought than rippling static trickled across my array again. It lasted a touch longer this time.
I decided not to push it. After all, this chump had seen me.
I powered down both packets. Then I pushed myself up, gingerly testing my leg as I hurled myself to the left. The original shooter, a pallid, bald man with a crown of tattoos around his head, fired again. His bullets tore into the metal floor a centimeter from my hair.
I pulled my Stilettos, panic burning in my veins. I didn’t even remember how I’d calibrated them last time I’d used them, but I didn’t care. I aimed both weapons in the general direction of the men and started firing.
Cries of pain drowned out the shattering of glass. Behind me, heavy footsteps pounded against the metal floor as a new party entered the fray.
I rolled wildly, bringing my weapons to bear.
“Hoss!” Wyatt stopped in place, waving his hands. “Easy, asshole!”
“Holy shit!” the bald man breathed.
I glanced back at where he’d fallen, only to see him frantically crabwalk through the bent metal and broken glass. The darkness had faded from around him, and he appeared legitimately frightened.
Good.
“Damnit,” Wyatt swore. He stepped forward, his hands madly scrabbling at the keys on his hip. As I pushed myself to a standing position, the Tangler resounded with a loud WHUF.
“Michael.” Anya appeared at my side. “Are you system green?”
“I…” I tried to put weight on my right leg and found it able to support me. It hurt like a complete bastard, but it seemed the quasi-steel hadn’t been breached. “I’m fine.”
“What the fuck!” someone cried from the room in front of me.
I heard Wyatt’s gear chuff again and turned in that direction.
The fierce Kab woman sp
rinted by me, that light sphere hovering just behind her. She didn’t appear to be the least bit attentive to my potential injury.
Rude.
Nodding once more at Anya, I followed.
“Let’s see what you think of this!” Wyatt sounded absolutely mad. The Tangler let out another WHUF, and I heard a deep voice scream.
The room beyond appeared nothing like what I expected. It appeared that the invaders had done quite a bit of remodeling to the Atrificia, creating a sterile, futuristic environment. In here, however, the typical obsidian of the construct had simply been overlaid, creating an amalgam of the two incongruent styles. While the floor remained volcanic glass, two of the walls held vast computer banks, showing readouts I didn’t understand. The far wall appeared to be a great glass doorway, open to the night beyond. Several four-wheeled ATVs sat parked just beyond that egress.
In the center of the room, an organic crystalline structure pulsed, fed by nearly transparent veins that spooled down from the ceiling. These writhed and throbbed, grotesque and inhuman. Above them, an arched contour of liquid light burned in the air, slowly orbiting the crystal structure with silent menace.
Occasionally, brilliant sparks danced along that hemi-spherical surface, as if caught in the wake of its turning. These coalesced into even brighter arcs of multi-colored light, which crackled furiously with energies I couldn’t imagine.
I stared at the thing. It looked decidedly surreal.
“Firenzei!” A man yelled wildly into a communication device affixed to the wall. “We’re taking fire down at the Parabola Bay! We require backup!”
“Yeah,” Wyatt spat, turning toward the man. “You do.”
WHUF. He fired the spike straight into the man’s chest, moving away before it took full effect.
That man screamed wildly as he died, cooked to death while yelling at Firenzei.
Fierce as Wyatt fought, it only took a moment to realize my friend stood vastly outnumbered. At a glance, I counted at least eleven of the riot-clad jerks waited for him within the room. Now, even though he’d cooked a few of them alive, their initial bewilderment had begun to wear off.