by J M Guillen
Fair enough.
Rachel disconnected the link without another word, leaving me with wisps of her irritation.
5
Even though I kept a steady pace roaring across the desert like a bad ass, my cadre remained distant. They moved away from me as I rambled over salt and sand, and they moved about as quickly as I did.
I hadn’t contacted them yet, which might have been dumb. I’d just kind of hoped to show up, ready to hand Firenzei a plate of fuck-off pie.
However, that’d never happen if they kept meandering across the Mojave.
I bet you guys missed me, I sent, shooting them a wry grin.
Michael! Anya sounded harried; I could feel her slight grimace. Have you checked in with the Designate?
All’s well and system green, Preceptor. Here’s a marker over my locale. I performed the mental twitch to show them my location.
Well, enough, Hoss, Wyatt grumbled. But we have an Irrat assassin on our tail.
The Designate has updated me. I intended to catch up with you lot and try to even the score.
We do need our suit ninja, Wyatt agreed wryly. But I show you still over a kilometer and a half away!
That’s why I decided to reach out; I’m never going to catch you.
We can’t exactly turn back now, Wyatt informed me. We pulled behind a short mesa. We’re finally out of his sight.
If we turn around, he will be able to target us with his weapon again, Anya supplied.
I know. I bit my lip and thought frantically. They needed to be able to hide somewhere, somewhere completely safe from Irrational assholes. Our problem wasn’t that I needed to kill Firenzei, after all. I just needed my cadre to be safe.
But out here in the wide desert, hiding places didn’t come easily. They might have given him the slip for a moment, but I saw his marker on my visual array.
It gained on their current location.
Maybe we can start a large loop back around to you? Wyatt proposed. We’d have to leave cover but it might work.
No. You need more cover not less. I urged the ATV forward and hammered the throttle down. Maybe we can get some kind of satellite map? I can offload one easily enough if we can just figure out a place for you to stop—
My eyes went wide as I realized what I said.
Stop. They only needed to stop.
Michael?
I ignored her and peered intently at the two markers on my visual. While I possessed solid information on distance between them and myself, I struggled to figure out the distance between Firenzei and my cadre.
Okay. I have an idea.
Will it get us killed? I honestly couldn’t tell if Wyatt actually meant the question.
Probably not, I linked confidently. Are you certain you’re out of sight?
Absolutely, Anya instantly replied. Every opportunity he has to fire his weapon, he does so. The fact that he is not firing currently means he cannot see us.
Okay. I’m going to be the big amazing hero here. I need you to do exactly as I say.
That sounds unbelievable, Wyatt grumbled.
I want you to pull off to the side, somewhere off the main trail. I want you to stop your ATVs without turning off the engine. Make certain you leave them running.
Stop? Wyatt shook his head. Hoss, that don’t sound healthy.
Remain stopped for precisely five minutes, I continued. At the end of five minutes, I want you to take off again. By that time, I should be there, and if Firenzei is a problem we’ll take care of it.
Michael, that does not make sense, Anya stated.
You’re wasting time, I practically snarled over the link. I can’t take the time to assemble a packet, and you’re losing minutes searching for an explanation. I’m trying to save your lives here!
Fair enough, Brooks Brothers. Wyatt sighed. We’ll pull over here.
Remember, I linked urgently, five minutes. Then get going again.
Michael! Anya’s link felt sharp in my mind. We are experiencing extreme axiomatic fluctuation!
I know. You’re fine, I assured her, although, I supposed she might not be.
Hell, I’d been worried about getting caught between places. What if I’d just sent them to that fate?
I dismissed the thought. Not helpful.
Hang onto your ATVs, guys. I’ll see you in five minutes.
Bishop, Wyatt linked, uncertainly, you better know what the fuck—
With that, my cadre faded from my Crown, cast adrift to Sathantür, just outside Garnath Research Station.
At least, so I hoped.
6
Firenzei kept right on truckin’, just as I’d hoped. His flashing indicator passed right by the spot where Wyatt and Anya stopped their vehicles and left the world of men.
“That’s right, asshole.” I let out a breath, surprised that I’d been holding it. “Hit the road.”
His marker did, in fact, continue on, completely oblivious to the fact that my cadre had gone.
Unfortunately, Firenzei wasn’t the only oblivious one.
108, we have lost Assets Guthrie and Petrova from telemetry. The Designate’s link held an unspoken request for intel. Concern, yes.
But pressing, too.
They operate the same kind of interdimensional four-wheeler I do, Designate. I pulled my ATV past an outcropping of stone. I used that fact in dealing with Firenzei.
You… did what?
I patched her my link-record of the last few minutes, along with my conclusions.
Reckless, she instantly responded. You have no way to ascertain their safety. They might not have passed back across the realmwall.
I considered that, I admitted. But I’ve seen Firenzei in action. If the Irrat caught them, I have no doubt the assassin would have liquidated my cadre.
Wyatt Guthrie has experience using the Tangler in hot zones, she tersely replied.
True, I responded. But not the clearance to do everything he might require. Firenzei is a monster, Designate. I know you have his specs, but I’ve faced the man.
We are aware of that, 108.
Mine is an elegant solution which didn’t require underequipped Assets to engage a skilled assassin.
Thanks to your action, they are tech adrift and offline. Their system status reads as “Asset is presumed lost.”
It’s the only solution I saw.
We have yet to see if it is a solution, she responded. Thank you for the update.
I had nothing to say to that.
I watched as Firenzei’s marker vanished and realized I’d left something out of my elegant solution. I should have asked Anya to drop a marker for me over their last locale. As it stood, I didn’t know exactly where they’d stopped.
I turned my ATV, aiming for their approximate location. My vehicle roared and leapt over gully and stone, speeding beneath an infinite sheath of stars.
Slowly, I realized this whole situation still left us with a significant problem. The vehicles worked well enough, but how could we stop once we reached Locale One? The moment we lost momentum, the vehicles would again return to their home topia. I might engage the Adept and leap off. But Anya? Wyatt?
Unlikely.
As I ponded the problem, the Designate’s wintergreen link whispered in my mind again.
108, I realized you had not been updated, Ling sent. Moments after you first appeared on telemetry, Facility 67 created a package of all known and relevant data on Aberration 45171R.
On what now? I frowned.
The Vyriim. The parasitic phage species you encountered.
Oh. I felt dumb. Right. Squiddy.
The Vyriim are a hyper-intelligent species that constantly seek to create new colonies, the Designate interjected coolly.
Right. Serious threat. Got it.
Assets Petrova and Guthrie received this packet, shortly after your vehicle initiated its return to the topia of Sathantür. We’re porting now.
Thank you. I’d open it later. I didn’t want to trawl through dat
a as I roamed the desert. It appeared fairly large, with several images. I didn’t need the whole thing ported to memory.
A scarlet dataglyph appeared in the upper left-hand corner of my visual array, pulsing brightly. Over the course of a minute or so the dataglyph slowly faded.
The moment it vanished, the intel pounced into my mind.
I winced at the size of the packet—far larger than I’d expected. The jarring sensation lasted only a moment however.
Also, please be aware a drone drop has been scheduled and is currently on route. You are to be resupplied with viral mecha for your current needs.
Thank you, Designate. I started to say something else, but my vehicle lurched, a violent wrench as the engine whined.
The ATV started to chug. Greenish smoke boiled out the back.
“Shit.” I stared down at the device. For all I knew, the thing might explode with the fire and fury of a neutron star at any moment.
Or it might just be out of gas.
I drove on for another twenty meters or so, hoping the grinding from the engine might quit. When the verdant smoke grew darker and smelled like burnt oil, I made my choice.
I couldn’t just stop the thing, after all. I had no wish to return to the fun-filled Atrificia.
“Just fucking great.” I toggled the Adept. With silvery grace burning through me, I leapt off the ATV.
Without a driver, it sailed forward, hopping wildly over a large stone and into an ancient gullywash. The steering wheel spun sideways, and the vehicle careened around a small stand of Joshua trees, green smoke billowing.
It began to slow.
“C’mon.” I eyed the vehicle. “It’d be a big help if maybe you didn’t—”
As it slowed, azure starbursts sang around the vehicle, screaming sapphire sparks. I shielded my eyes against the light as it gave one final furious flash, wailing with eldritch power.
The ATV vanished.
“That,” I growled. “If you didn’t do that.”
I remained in place for a long moment, stewing. In less than thirty seconds I’d gone from a man in possession of a perfectly serviceable ride to a poor sap alone and all but lost in the desert.
“Shit,” I repeated. I stood up from the badass crouch I’d landed in and glowered at the empty space where the vehicle had just been.
I sighed.
How far might it still be to where my cadre drifted through? More than a kilometer, I felt certain. Also, to add a shit topping to the piece of shit cheesecake, the sun had set. Soon, it would get cold.
“Nothing for it,” I grumbled.
I could at least peruse my data. For a moment, I went ahead and considered just saving the whole thing to memory. That might be convenient, despite the size.
But I had time to kill. Also, the desert loomed before me, silent and dark. It might be good to have some company until Wyatt and Anya returned.
I began to walk, toggling the Adjunct within my Crown.
Good evening, 108. The chipper voice felt out of place with my rotten mood and this desolate landscape.
“Ugh.” I frowned. I didn’t feel up to the Adjunct’s primary aspect with its sunny demeanor.
Adjunct, open saved aspects.
Will comply, 108, the cheery voice responded. I have program 12A saved to your preferences.
The Cap’n? I wrinkled my nose. No, thank you.
You have recently played aspect 78T as well.
James Thibodaux? It might be nice to interface with the data through the warm, syrupy accent of 78T. Dude was a hoot.
But no. I needed something warmer. More friendly.
Next, I sent.
F23 is a common choice of yours.
Paige? I smiled. That might be nice, out here in the desert. I took a breath, considering.
The night had already begun to chill, and Paige reminded me of warmer, happier times. I’d built the aspect based upon a lady I once knew—a Gatekeeper Asset. Elle Quirke had been a good friend and had met an awful end.
Yes. Initiate aspect F23.
Will comply, Asset. Paige’s voice overlaid that of the base Adjunct, smooth and sweet. The input acted far more human than the base Adjunct. I see we have a new data package here.
We do. I walked past the dry creek bed and out onto the flats.
Looks like you’re on foot, Mike. I could almost feel the Adjunct smile, which always creeped me out a bit. Maybe you’d like someone to read it to you while you hoof it?
That would be preferable. I nodded. Let me focus on the road.
Will comply, she chirruped. Let me just open this package on up.
Coppery memory burned into my mind, sliding through and past everything I knew. As if I’d catalogued the Vyriim my entire life, the data poured into me, molten and hot. It sat there, waiting to be perused.
Is there a lot in there?
Oh yes. It felt as if she pursed her lips. We have everything. There are maps of topiatic territories. Check this out. Lots of dimensional topography.
On the left side of my visual array, a small box appeared. Paige flipped through map after map in that field, just to give me an idea of the scope of the data.
Wow. I let out a low whistle. Not exactly my specialty.
Well, it wouldn’t be, would it? She responded. Mike, this is data assembled by Facility Arbiters. Hardly your pay grade.
What all’s in there? Does it all matter?
We have accounts where they took entire worlds, moving across the Myriad in an incomprehensible game of interdimensional chess. There’s details about their psionic capabilities and some data regarding their means of infesting sapient organisms.
Sounds depressing. I glanced up, focusing on the wheeling stars.
This is serious, Paige insisted. According to this, once the Vyriim have their sights on a world, they’ve never been thwarted— not as far as our records show.
Never? I stepped over an outcropping of dun stone. That’s a large word.
Mike, if they’re truly invading, this is the largest incursion in a generation. I felt as if dark eyes regarded me. God, the largest in centuries.
“Fuck me,” I muttered. My heart pounded in my chest.
In an instant, our problems had grown exponentially larger.
Aberration 45171R
Read it to me, I linked. Let’s hear it.
I’ll place the heading in the dialogue box. It isn’t vital, but it might make things easier.
The maps vanished. A block of text replaced them, glowing blue on my visual array. It appeared to be general intel, followed by a stark warning:
__________
ABERRANT DESIGNATION: 45171R
TYPE: Physical Phage (HAZARD LEVEL THREE)
IRRATIONALITY VARIANT: Intelligent Psionic, Variant L-5
TOPIATIC LOCALITY: Varies, multiple localities along the Outer Umbral Arc.
RESTRICTION PARAMETERS: None known.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Serpentine, varying in width from .12 mm to individuals thicker than 125 cm and as much as 7.25 meters in length. They tend to form clutches of aberrants, clustering and twining together to act as one. Variants may be equipped with eyes, hook-shaped appendages, or any other organs to be used by whatever clutch they inhabit.
THIS ENTRY REFERS TO A RACE OF PARASITICAL AND INVASIVE ABERRANT CREATURES NOT FOUND WITHIN RATIONALITY. AS SUCH, SOME INFORMATION MAY BE MISCATALOGUED OR INCORRECT. ORDINAL OPERATIVES MAKING USE OF THIS INFORMATION ARE THEREFORE CAUTIONED TO TREAT THIS INFORMATION WITH SCRUTINY.
__________
“Got it,” I breathed into the chilly air.
Okay, she responded. Ordinal Arbiters report Aberration 45717R are known widely as “Vyriim.” They are primarily found along the Outer Umbral Arc, have been sighted from the Shadow Wells of the Abbomai to the desert vistas of the Dehichotegha peoples.
“Wow.” I shook my head. “Right into the alien topography, huh?”
More like alien topio-politics. There’s all kinds of reports in here from
different worlds, all with various viewpoints on 45717R.
“Really?” I reached into my jacket, hunting a cigarette. “Like what?”
You know I hate it when you smoke.
“Lay off,” I grinned as I lit up. “Answer the question.”
Well, for example, Arbiter 214 reports: The locals refer to the phage as “The Night’s Whisper,” as they believe it only comes in darkness.
The Night’s Whisper? I rolled my eyes.
When they are asked the nature of the Whisper, the topic is universally met with revulsion and hand signs meant to ward evil. The leaders of these people take it for granted that the Whisper will come upon them every few years, burrowing into the living bodies of young men and women as they come of age. These are said to go mad and set out for the desert with no water or food.
“They just accept that shit?” I exhaled smoke. “What do they believe happens to the people taken?”
Further questioning leads to a cultural belief that these travel to a forbidden location, hidden among the sands. Here it is said that a temple of black jade rests beneath the world.
“Huh.” I couldn’t help but recall the Atrificia, hidden beneath Sathantür.
Once those afflicted with the Night’s Whisper travel within, they are never seen again.
“Morbid,” I opined. “Are they all like this?”
This is a typical example of cultural tales regarding 45717R. Common themes include the aberrants’ horrific capability to burrow into living tissue and dwell within the host. Through means both physical and psionic, they come to control the individual, taking possession of all knowledge and memories.
“I’ve seen something like that.” I shuddered. “I bet it’s tactically handy.”
They are the perfect assassins, the perfect agents of espionage.
“This warning says we’ve never seen them within Rationality?” I scrambled down to a small rock-strewn wash, then chose to walk along it.
Correct. The bulk of 45717R dwells within a cluster of topiatic realities centered on the Refting Dirge, realms where they control every sapient species.