by J M Guillen
Just like that, I no longer felt uncomfortable with whatever the hell might be between her and Stone. After all, Anya hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing at all.
The guy just got under my skin, and it turned out he’d been… hanging with one of my best friends.
We’re three floors from the elevator. My burnt-bearded companion linked to Stone but included all of us. We’re descending now.
Roger that, Guthrie. Stone smiled as he linked. You three have really done a fine job here.
That’s not condescending at all. I linked to Wyatt, but he didn’t respond except for the smallest of smiles.
The elevator sat perfectly flush with the solid steel floor of the Chasm. A small control system stood off to the side on a podium in front of the elevator. The word DANGER had been printed on the floor in five different languages.
Would you look at this? Wyatt crouched near where the Geopulse Pylon rooted itself in the steel floor. Control panels crowded all around the device, each with a different series of toggles and tuners labeled Relative Cohesion Index, K-Alpha Emissions, and Light Chain Integrity.
Why can’t anyone give sensible names to things? I read the labels, remembering my time in The Spire.
If things don’t have big names, how can we know how fancy they are? Wyatt snarked. Hey, whaddya think happens if someone’s Tangler accidentally melted this thing down to slag?
Discommendations. Anya’s link came suddenly and sternly. Especially when there is so much telemetry to sort from such a device.
I know. Not our mission. Wyatt looked at the control panels with a longing sigh. Sometimes a guy just wants to smash a thing or two, you know?
I’m sure you’ll get that chance. I turned and walked toward the elevator. It’s been quiet for a while now. I bet things kick up again soon.
Not the way it works, Hoss, Wyatt chuckled. We aren’t in a Blake Runner movie. Bad guys don’t show up just because the audience gets bored.
I laughed with him, but as we stepped onto the elevator, I felt my pulse kick up. Not because of any supposed heights, of course. No, I couldn’t help but think about what Stone had linked:
The Seal is the barrier between the main structure and the floors below ground level. When an individual wishes access to the top-secret laboratories, he or she must bypass Sadhana’s most intricate security.
We had already dealt with several handfuls of Sadhana operatives, including an Irrational flamethrower. We had faced down a Greater Aberration, a blood-drinking aetheric monstrosity, and, worst of all, telemarketers of the damned.
What could possibly be beneath the Seal? We knew how Sadhana protected this side of the complex…
What would possibly lie beneath?
Just no more stunts like jigging the Spectre. Wyatt glared at me sternly through his blue oculus. His fire-ravaged beard gave him a wild, untamed look. Stuff like that is going to get us all killed.
“Maybe.” I had to fight not to burst out laughing as I prepared my best Blake Runner impersonation. I glanced slowly from Wyatt to Anya, who had engaged the elevator, and growled.
“Or maybe I’m the only thing that’s going to get us out of here alive.” My expression remained gravely serious as I turned back to Wyatt.
What the fuck? He looked from me to Anya, as if he couldn’t quite decide if I were serious.
The elevator lurched into motion, and I laughed as we descended into darkness.
I mean it. What the actual fuck, Hoss?
Primal Construct
The freight elevator ground its gears as it slowly lowered us down. The floor we sank through had been almost three meters thick, but once we passed, the shaft opened up in a continuation of the Chasm, far wider than the elevator.
Still with the Pylon. I linked the moment that the blue flicker washed over us. I wonder how deep it goes?
Demetrius’ intel does not give us an ultimate depth to this device. Anya had gone back to taking telemetry, using any opportunity she could to gather information on the axiomatic snarls.
As we descended, I made a point of peeking over the edge for Wyatt’s piece of mind. But, damn, it looked like another seven stories to the bottom.
Hey. Wyatt peered over as well. Toggle the magnification on your optics. Looks like Sadhana is a little light on reception at their big bad-ass Seal.
Yeah? I did as he indicated and peered below.
The Seal looked much as we had seen on Stone’s display, a gray wall of intricately detailed mechanisms. I imagined that it was designed to accept the passcode requirements—DNA, iris scan, and so on. In the center of the Seal stood a featureless door without handle or knob.
Far below, a single figure floated in front of the door, her clothing wafting around her, as if on a capricious wind.
One Irrat? I linked to both of them. Unless it’s another Greater Aberration, we may have this one in hand.
It is not. Anya stepped over to where we stood, her brow furrowed. I watched as she made the same motion three times in a row, as if she drew a stylized letter C by her right hip.
Not an Irrat? Wyatt felt a little confused, and he brought his hand to the oculus. That’s not my reading.
I think she meant it’s not a Greater Aberration. I adjusted my optics, trying to get a better view.
Does she look blindfolded to you, Hoss?
The creature is neither an Irrational human nor a Greater Aberration. Pause. She is also not a creature of the aetheric tides.
I’ve got super-Rational readings here. Wyatt glanced at Anya. I know my oculus isn’t nearly what your gear is, Anya, but this little lady ain’t no typical chick.
No. Anya turned away from the woman back to us. My readings indicate this creature is a Primal Construct.
Reeeeally? I had to admit that piqued my interest. The idea of an Primal Construct working for Sadhana brought up a lot of odd questions, questions that might have answers we didn’t like.
I might have seen four Constructs in my entire career. To meet one here seemed unlikely at best.
“Holy crap.” Wyatt let out a low whistle. “What are we looking at?”
“Mythology, mostly.” I popped the knuckles on one hand. “Primal Constructs are remnants from mankind’s distant and forgotten past.”
“No, I get that.” He looked at me from the other side of his burned and scraggly beard. “I know the basics. Ancient people told stories, worshipping Irrational creatures and forces. Those aberrations wanted that worship, so shaped themselves into things we could understand.”
“Right.” I sighed. “So there’s occasionally remnants. Wily trickster spirits or perhaps creatures aligned with seasons or the harvest.”
“I’ve only ever bumped into one,” he said. “The Gaunt Man.”
“You encountered Primal Construct 13563?” Anya sounded startled.
Anya. Sounded. Startled.
I stared at Wyatt.
“Just awful.” He nodded toward me. “Dossier M89-1997. Same one I met Li—that girl. The one in the Vyriim vats?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Anyway,” Wyatt went on, “the Gaunt Man is an old, old beastie. Somethin’ that’s been huntin’ humans for several hundred years—maybe more.”
“Strange,” I mused.
“I have seen stranger.” Anya gazed at us, her blue eyes catching the light of the pylon. “Dossier B13-1999. An archeologist in Central America searched for relic #427k.”
“What was it?” I asked.
“An Aztec death whistle,” she responded. “One hundreds of years old.”
“It’s always a good idea to chase Irrational relics,” Wyatt groused.
“The item transformed the woman who found it,” Anya said. “She took on the aspect of a Jaguar-warrior and went on a killing spree in Mexico.”
“What happens in Mexico should stay in Mexico,” I muttered, reflecting on a mission I’d once had in the Yucatán.
“So this human woman became a Primal Construct? Due to a
relic?” Wyatt shook his head.
“Affirmative.”
“Well, when I said ‘What are we looking at?’ I meant ‘what is she?” Wyatt went to run his fingers through his beard and tried to not look like an idiot when he realized he had far less beard to stroke.
I am searching Facility databases for Primal Constructs and folklore, specifying Japanese culture.
I can’t tell if she’s Japanese or not. Maybe. Wyatt looked back down at the woman.
Seconds later, Anya’s Lattice query came back.
The Itako are traditional shamans of the Japanese people. They are always female and, traditionally, blind.
Maybe. She’s definitely wearing a blindfold. I looked from Wyatt to Anya.
No other actual data. Anya pursed her lips. We are in the dark until we make actual contact.
Now, that’s not necessarily true. Wyatt’s grin looked sharp, devilish. I mean, we know she’s here. And we know she’s stationed in front of Sadhana’s big ol’ vault.
Okay. I raised one hand, turned palm up. So?
Well… His eyes twinkled. Sadhana thinks their problem is upstairs, so most of their operatives should be there, trying to nail down a Titan. The way I see it, our little Construct is somethin’ special, else she wouldn’t be here.
That follows. Anya’s link held just a trace of impatience.
So we know two things. Wyatt began to tap at his crescent keyboard. We know she won’t be friendly. He turned his attention briefly to his oculus, then gazed at us excitedly. And we know that we’ve got the high ground. The Tangler began to whine.
Fuck yeah, we do. About seven stories of high ground to be exact. The freight elevator wasn’t exactly fast, and while weapons like the Stiletto or a standard gun’s accuracy might fade over distance, a Tangler’s spike would be effective as long as Wyatt remained in range.
Which we were. I hit the large red button on the control panel, and we lurched to a halt.
Between the Tangler and the purloined Calico Anya still had strung over her shoulder, I thought we’d do fine. Drifty McFloaty-lady couldn’t even reach us.
“Juuuuust a sec.” Wyatt only took a moment to aim over the side, far less than he might have had he been wielding a gun. I saw glowing equations flit across his oculus.
“Take your time.” I couldn’t help a manic grin.
WHUF.
Already Wyatt’s fingers madly input Facility equations as we watched the spike sail toward the serenely floating woman.
“It’s gonna hit! Damn, Wyatt, you hit her from h—!”
No. At the last moment, she moved, drifting to one side as if moved by a gentle breeze. She continued her motion as a dizzying burst of brilliant flame erupted in a tight diameter around the spike.
The flames just missed her.
What!? Wyatt’s irritation blended sharp anger and sour disgust. I fucking had her! He began the frantic dance of his fingers again and shifted the position of the Tangler slightly.
Rationality shifting. Anya’s warning came low, quietly intense in my mind. One point negative. She paused. Now two.
Cool liquid filled my mind, the consistency of heavy cream. My ears buzzed, and my skull ached as if my sinuses were about to burst.
I staggered beneath a great weight.
[Children of] Kanayago-kami. [Interesting.] The Japanese thoughts that bubbled within the liquid of my mind felt a touch nonsensical, like the notes of a flute blowing through a willow tree. [Few of your kind dare venture to Nippon, I think.]
The weight of her in my mind lay heavy and dark.
“More than you might imagine,” Wyatt said, but only with great difficulty.
[The years have been long. I would have expected you to come with more than fury and wrath. Would you not discuss our present situation? Must we resolve this only by blood?]
“I doubt you’ll simply let us pass.” I shook my head, as if I could wrest free. Linking seemed impossible, but she heard our voices, I had no doubt.
[True enough, son of] Kanayago-kami. [I am oathed and bound. But you must know that raising your fist against me is futile. You cannot be so blind.]
“Brought more than our fists.” Wyatt struggled with every word, but he repositioned the Tangler.
WHUF. The spike soared toward her, every bit as certain as the first. Again, at the last possible moment, the creature floated sideways, just out of reach of the spike’s blossom.
Dismayed, I glanced down. How many stories until we hit bottom?
[You have apparently forgotten the things that dwell in the shadows of this world, manling. Your puny bolts will never find their home in my head. No, I see your thoughts as they are born behind your heart. Before you act, all is revealed to me.]
I caught Wyatt’s attention. When I had it, as much as I could gain with cold syrup in his mind, I mouthed two words.
“She’s stalling.”
[No.] The creature’s response came immediately, the words sweet like a tropical breeze, even as they boiled and bubbled in my head. [That implies I fear, and I do not. For I know what is to be. The simple truth is that if you choose to stand against me and mine, you will never leave this place.]
“I’ve… had… enough.” Wyatt struggled with the words, practically spitting them through gritted teeth.
I turned to Anya, who crouched, her hands pressing tightly to the sides of her head as she trembled and jerked, fingers twitching faster than I’d ever seen them go, even mashed to her skull.
“Yes.” I struggled to move, it felt like pushing my way through molten rubber. I made certain Wyatt saw my eyes. Then I nodded. Whatever his play, I backed it.
Wyatt struck one key on the Artisan’s interface and leaned the business end of the Tangler against the railing, as if it were too heavy to hold.
WHUF. WHUF, WHUF, WHUF. WHUF, WHUF. He sprayed spikes in the Seal’s foyer, scattering them about. Each burst into a wild symphony of deadly and hungry flame.
Yet, as before, the creature drifted between the spikes as if she not only knew where he aimed, but the exact radius of the flame’s wrath.
Her long, black hair floated serenely around her, as did the frayed edges of her white blindfold. The white dress she wore rippled as if at play in a lazy stream.
“Fine,” I spat through gritted teeth.
I triggered my penultimate dampening grenade.
WHUM. Like a blessed, radiant song, the grenade washed away all trace of the heavy, molasses darkness from my mind. The world rippled around us, and for a moment, the creature fell quiet.
Then, I hit the button for the elevator to begin to descending again.
I wanted a piece of this action myself.
“You are being foolish children.” The creature spoke in delicately accented English. Her voice trickled softly, exactly as I expected it would, yet sharp too.
A voice that could slice and cut.
“Typically.” I drew my katana in one hand and my Stiletto in the other. “Foolishness never stops us though. Why, we were just talking about how stupid I am.” Toggling the Adept, I leapt from the elevator, rolled, and landed with calm precision.
The moment I hit the ground, each of the remaining flame-spouting spikes flared suddenly, and then went dark, simultaneously.
Thanks for the pyrotechnics, I sent to Wyatt.
Someone has to make you look cool.
“Do you come to speak for the honor of your kind?” The woman drifted closer. From this vantage, I saw that she looked impossibly old, and her wide smile revealed dozens of tiny, sharpened teeth.
“You said we should talk.” I took one step closer but did not drop my weapons. “My friends and I need through that door. Are you going to deny us that?”
“Honor says I must.” Her words cut like the biting wind. “My oaths are very specific, manling. I have been ordered to protect this door and slay any who seek to open it without leave. This I shall do.”
“We have a bit of a history with impossible things and impassib
le doors.” Wyatt’s voice came from behind me. I heard the song of the Tangler, a low whine. “What makes you so cock-fire sure?”
“You don’t know the first taste of history, child,” the creature laughed, a raucous sound. “I slaughtered your kind when the tools of the iron-wielders were little more than sharpened flecks of metal.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever met ‘our kind,’ not recently anyway. We have a few new toys.”
“You bore me.” She drifted closer, one leg folded beneath her, one arm extended out from her side. “You will leave, or you will join those who died in this place.”
“How about option three?” I aimed my Stiletto squarely at her head, the Adept blindingly fast. Before she could respond, I fired.
But…
But fuck.
Easy as a leaf on an autumn breeze, she drifted out of the way.
“I told you before.” She chuckled then, a hateful, condescending sound. “I see what is written in your heart before you read the words. Every strike you make is known to me, far before you act.”
That fucking sucks. Wyatt’s link held a hint of desperation. I don’t see a way around this one, Hoss. Even if you Spectre thorough and open the door, we’re still fighting.
Agreed. Think you can be the front man for a second? Chat her up? I glanced at him. I have an idea.
Wyatt never answered. Instead, he stepped off the elevator and strode up to the creature, bold as brass. He wore his rebel’s smile as he went.
That grin always made me think that, one day, Wyatt Guthrie was going to go down and go down hard.
He just might take the world with him.
“I got a question, if you think your wisdomness can take a moment to bestow some grace.”
“You hurled flame at me without cause and now you would question?” That wide inhuman mouth stretched further, showing even more filed ivory teeth. “What would you know?”
“You called us ‘Children of Kanayago-kami.’ Now, what in the hell is that?”
Rachel, if you have a moment?
I do. Exactly one moment. How can I waste it with you, Bishop?
I’m going to patch you my phaneric record of the last three minutes and an idea I had. Can I port to memory?