by J M Guillen
Adept regeared, I shoved myself up, katana in hand.
The Padre stood about five steps in front of me, but before I even got to my feet, he’d trained his pistol on me.
“I didn’t say you could get up.” He fired twice.
I triggered the Spectre—
—a moment too late.
One of the bullets tore into the meat of my right thigh spraying agony and red warmth across the midnight floor.
“Fuck!” I collapsed backward, warm blood pulsing from the wound in my thigh. It hurt.
“Let’s do this right this time.” The Padre stepped closer, gun aimed at my head.
Got you. Sofia dropped an aperture beneath me, and I fell through to land right next to her.
Apparently she’d made away, right beneath the Padre’s nose.
Frantically, I scrambled in my pockets until I found some type IV mecha.
I took my medicine like a good little Asset.
Let’s vanish, Delacruz linked.
At the same instant, we triggered the Wraith and the Spectre.
In the twilit darkness to my right, about fifteen steps away, I heard a pistol fire, again and again.
“Fuck!” the Padre swore, real venom in his voice. “You think I won’t find you?”
“Gain hold of yourself, Nicholas.” A woman’s voice sounded from the shadows to the left. That voice cut, each syllable perfect. The very British-ness of the words made my heart sink.
Oh damn. I popped the knuckled on my left hand. Not good.
Who? Sofia asked.
Big trouble. I gestured at the slender, dark haired woman walking from the shadows, knowing Delacruz would see my outline on her visual array. Rebecca Thorne- Irrational 9108.
Lady who tortured Sil. Delacruz snarled. Can’t be that much trouble. She looks like she weighs, what, a buck thirty?
Don’t you start, I sighed. She handed me my ass in a square fight a couple years back. Knows some freaky alien Kung Fu. Also, brilliant genius.
“I’ve left five men at the door.” She walked straight up to the Padre holding his gaze. “We’ve got another ten here, aside from you, me, and the client’s liaison.” She nodded at the Drażeri.
“You think that’s enough?” The Padre rubbed his head.
“It’s only two Assets, Nicholas. Each man is armed with one of my Primal Reactors.” She tapped a bracer on her arm, giving a slender smile.
“Sounds good. You heard the lady!” The Padre gestured at the men. “Find them. Grid search protocols. We’ve got work to do here at the bound.”
The thugs paired off and began to search the darkness.
“There.” Thorne smiled. “Now. I need to make certain you Neanderthals haven’t harmed my Resonance Generators.”
“Ain’t touched them.” Nicholas spat on the floor. “Although the client would apparently like study your setup a bit.”
“We still have more than enough photic-magnetism.” She nodded at the Drażeri. “Assuming the Ts’kekegoth still wish to move forward?”
I couldn’t hear the Drażeri’s psionic reply, but Thorne nodded.
“Excellent. Nicholas, we need to make our arrangements.” She crouched, delicate fingers working the controls upon her battery of devices.
For an instant, the azure light around the Matrices flickered. The figures standing beneath it faded too, just a bit.
They can just leave, Delacruz linked in horror. Back to… wherever they were when the whole thing was invisible.
They think so, at least. I bit at the inside of my cheek.
A rasping bit of static sounded from near the three. The Padre grabbed a small walkie-talkie from his belt.
I couldn’t hear what the voice said, but I heard him just fine.
“Yes. Fine. Initiate grid protocols.” He peered into the shadows, eager.
WHUM. WHUM. WHUM. WHUM. WHUM. WHUM.
It took me just a moment longer to realize what we heard. Around us, in the shadows, the sound echoed again and again.
Dozens of dampening grenades set off all across the room. Radiant rivulets of Rationality washed over us, blissful and sweet.
Our packets powered down.
From about ten steps to our left, I heard a deep voice chuckle.
“Well. Lookie at what I found.”
Delacruz and I looked at one another.
“Well, [shit],” she said.
3
It’s been said that I’m a slow learner.
So far, this particular night on the town had been the same dance, over and over. Delacruz and I would rely on our packets and make some move. Then the Sadhana hyenas would trigger dampening grenades and turn our technology off. After that, they’d savagely beat our assess for a few moments. Delacruz and I would use our packets to run and hide…
And find ourselves back at the start.
This time, I thought I’d start shooting things.
Quicksilver and caffeine flushed through my system as I toggled the Adept. It allowed me to leap backward just as this particular hyena unloaded a clip where my face had just been.
Guthrie, we need to talk about how long this is taking! Sofia madly linked, hurling apertures between us and the Matrices.
It’s a bit hot here, ’Bama, I added. Kinda sucks.
Understood, was the only reply.
Seconds later, one of the goons fired on us. He wailed in agony as his own bullets tore into him from Delacruz’s misdirection mojo.
Nice, I linked as I whirled my Stiletto up. With my thumb I dialed the focus way down, firing bursts the diameter of a pencil.
One shot went straight through the forehead of the jerk who had found us.
A second shredded through the neck of an oncoming asshole.
Gotta move, Mike, Delacruz linked. In the same instant, an aperture appeared at my feet.
I fell through to the other side of the Matrices.
There’s just too many, Sofia linked, frantic. I counted twelve of them on that side! If they all have those bracers—
“Hey there.” The Padre stepped around from behind the large lapis stone. “We have got to get together more often.”
“Doubtful,” Sofia responded. With a thought she set an aperture directly beneath the muscled man’s feet. Startled, he began to fall.
Yet… he didn’t.
With a flash of mirror-brightness that suffused his skin, he charged forward.
The man moved faster than I thought possible; faster than even the Adept.
He brought one meaty fist squarely into contact with Delacruz’s petite nose.
Bone cracked. Blood exploded from her face.
I brought up my Stilleto, quick as thought and fired, three quick shots…
…that the man dodged.
He whirled to me, much of his face flushed with the chrome, mirror-like sheen.
“Oh, Bishop,” he chided. “It’s already far too late for that.”
He glanced behind me.
I whirled, already shooting before I even saw who stood there. Thorne threw herself flat then struck the button on the bracer she wore.
Without thought, I toggled the Spectre. Wintery frission trembled through me as the Padre swung on me, his fist passing through my head.
“None o’ that,” a new voice crowed from behind. “Ain’t playin’ fair.”
I turned toward the soldier just as he triggered the dampening grenade with a WHUM.
“Assholes,” I spat. I spun in place, seeing Delacruz struggling to stand.
“I consider this recompense for what you did in Sathantür.” Thorne’s voice trembled with rage. “Know that you have this due.”
“Well,” I snarked, turning. “The thing is—”
Yellow radiance crackled around her like an aura of electrical fury.
She smiled.
Amber nothingness punched me, squarely in the face, with roughly the mass of a cinderblock.
“God da—!” I stumbled backward, frantically stumbling away from Thor
ne.
Right into the Padre’s kick. He launched his boot straight into my stomach.
My ribs cracked.
I fell, gasping.
“Damn, that feels good,” he gloated.
“No time for play,” Thorne chided. “The client is interested in both of them.”
“No,” I blathered. On all fours, I frantically crawled away from them. I’d dropped the Stiletto…
There!
“You’re coming with us, 108.” Thorne’s voice dripped with venom. “Some distant friends would like to have a word with you.”
A sledgehammer—or maybe a dumptruck—smashed into the back of my skull.
I fell.
Darkness tumbled around me.
4
Hoss! Pick up, man!
Everything felt dim. The entire world dwelt in a haze of shadows and cataclysmic pain.
“Areola 51?” I shook my head. “I don’t think we should go to that one,” I slurred. “I think you just like making these up.”
Get up, you idiot!
Michael, I have completed my telemetric analysis.
Okay. I peered around, trying to gauge the situation, and winced. My brain felt soggy, blended into mush.
I squinted, trying to see. Thorne and the Padre had stepped near to Delacruz and were discussing something with the Drażeri. The blue-skinned figure gestured at the monolith, a trace of concern on his face.
Not one of them regarded me.
Dumb.
At the side of the Matrices you will notice a series of devices. They emanate wavelengths of the same energy harvested from Ar’ghosa.
Photic magnetism, Wyatt input.
I see them. Saw them earlier. I also saw my Stiletto, which gave me an idea.
After all, the point here was the restoration of Hyper-Rationality, right? No one said we had to kill all these idiots.
Only one goal.
Anya, are you saying that these devices are absolutely the cause of the disturbance?
Yes. We believe that Thorne…
I stopped listening.
With barely a thought, I triggered the Adept. Using the augmented force which thrummed through my body, I hurled myself forward, scooping up the weapon as I stood.
“Hey!” the Padre growled, already stepping toward me. However, I didn’t turn, didn’t even try to defend myself from any incoming strike.
No. I fired and fired and fired.
I riddled Thorne’s contraptions with kinetic blasts. They punched through the casings as if it were pudding.
Two of them, the ones in the center, began to radiate an alarming orange color.
…which is why destroying the devices is not the most beneficial outcome. The blast will shatter the base of The Spire and the structure will collapse inward.
“Oh,” I said dumbly.
“You idiot!” The Padre actually stopped in placed, gaping at the wavering, furious light.
Michael. I felt the terseness in Anya’s link. Do you even listen to what I say?
The Padre backhanded me, a silvery blur trailing from the rapid strike. I stumbled backward, still weakened and a bit bleary.
I fell.
“No.” Thorne had stepped around the far side. Her eyes were wide; her hands clenched. “No, no, no. You didn’t. You wouldn’t risk—”
“I did.” I spat blood at her shoes from where I’d fallen. “And I probably would again.”
“Asshole!” The Padre took two steps forward and launched a foot into my midsection. His silvery aura blushed across the surface of my Stiletto as it went skittering away.
At the last moment I toggled the Spectre. The Padre committed to that kick and almost fell on his ass.
I didn’t laugh. I began to heroically crawl away.
“I… I can’t fix this.” Thorne knelt by the battery of devices, one of which had begun to emit odd, crimson sparks. Her hand trembled. “The Resonance Generators will go critical in minutes.”
Guthrie, Sofia linked, I’m ready if you are, man.
I think I got it, he replied.
“We’ve got to leave.” Rebecca stood, staring at the Padre. Her tone broached no disagreement. “The bottom five tiers of this structure are about to be vaporized.”
“Leavin’ them?” The Padre nodded in my direction. “I wouldn’t mind letting that one get vaporized.”
Three of their soldiers, along with their Drażeri companion, came closer to see what had happened.
“We can’t.” Thorne glanced at the Drażeri. “The client has made their desires clear.”
“Pity.” The Padre held out a hand to one of the soldiers, who handed him a dampening grenade from her belt. “Let’s spread out. We’ll use the grenades and shut down their gear.”
“Here.” Thorne fumbled with a small pack. “These should make things easier.” She handed him two small metallic bands.
“Oh. Oh no,” I moaned. My eyes went wide.
All business, the Padre strolled over to where I crawled. I might still be beneath the Spectre, but he could see my blurred form.
“Let’s wrap this up,” he said. He pushed the button on the dampening grenade.
WHUM.
My packet shut down.
“No!” I’d dropped the Stiletto, my final weapon. Now in agony from my various beatings, I struggled to pull away from the large man.
“Here we go.” He bent toward me. In one hand he held one of the same manacle devices that Delacruz had worn, the ones which shut down her Crown.
As he bent close, I snapped a kick up, straight for his face. He pulled back, but I still slammed my boot into his chest.
“OW!” He stumbled backward. “You piece of—!”
Above him, a crimson aperture opened. Its light danced across their faces.
As one, the Padre and Thorne looked up.
“WARNING!” The words resounded from the aperture, along with a violet flash. “AREA IS OFF LIMITS TO NON-CLASSED PERSONEL. DEFENSIVE MEASURES INITIATING.”
“Ha!” I crowed. My ribs burned with agony but I did not care. “You have no class!”
Sleek and silver, a Hornet-class drone dropped through the aperture. It hovered in the air, cocking its head at Rebecca fucking Thorne.
“Gentlemen,” she said, talking a step backward. “I feel—”
The drone fired a spike straight at her.
Thorne leapt to one side.
It scarcely missed.
A second drone dropped through the fissure.
Then a third.
Hey there, Bitch-op. I felt an invisible hand rest on my shoulder.
The drone control junction. I shook my head. That’s what Wyatt and you were chatting about.
Right. But now, let’s move away from the [crazy idiots].
Wait. I nodded toward Thorne. We need to stay close.
Why?
You’ll see, I assured her. You can always jaunt us out.
From behind the Padre, my Drażeri buddy stepped through the shadows. He pointed his iron weapon at one of the Hornets, hurling verdant flames at the drone.
They struck, splashing about the Hornet like eldritch liquid. The drone fell to the ground, spraying spikes wildly in the general direction of the agents.
Two of Sadhana’s agents lay quivering on the ground, caught by the Hornet’s Taser spikes. Another crouched just behind the Matrices, firing his Glock at the fast little drones.
“We gotta go!” The Padre ran over to the war-cleric. “They have a small army of those– those little monsters!”
As if in response to his words, another violet flash burst from the aperture. Moments later, a Hornet buzzed through, all metal and insectine death.
And another.
The Drażeri swung again, missing a second drone with his viridian fury. When he looked at the Padre, he apparently made quite the telepathic argument, gesturing wildly at the construct.
Meanwhile, a Sadhana agent attempted to use his bracer against a drone. Brilliant blue light s
hone from the tiny mote. It arched savagely toward the deadly automaton.
That glow crackled in a sphere around its target.
The drone began to waver, to fall.
It crashed against the ground, shattering one of its wings.
“Defensive measures initiating.”
Another drone shot the man in the face with a miniature spike.
“All shall be made whole,” Thorne said to the Drażeri. “But for now, Bishop destroyed the bound. There’s nothing to salvage.”
For a long instant, the Drażeri regarded her with midnight eyes.
As Sadhana agents fought and died against the Hornets, he simply contemplated. Then he reached into a small bag. The cube he drew out glinted metallic.
Almost petulantly, he tossed it against the floor.
A repugnant burst of light crashed over us with a violet, hateful glow. It emitted horrific music created from dread and terror and the nightmares one forgets.
It hurt, like being ripped from my own skin.
What the hell— Delacruz linked.
Axiomatic fluctuations! Anya linked. Negative four… four point-five…
Cold and shadow whirled around us, an angry and vengeful darkness.
The cube flashed again, a darkness that burned. The world tore then, burning with empty, malevolent space.
The Drażeri stepped out of sight, gesturing with his rod. There echoed a loud BANG followed by a viridian burst of light.
A circular hole, wreathed by emerald brilliance, stabbed into the space behind the construct. A horrific wind screamed through that hole, pulling the air from The Spire into it as it wailed loudly.
“Dhire Lith.” Even through the pain, I recognized the endless city. The streets meandered in a labyrinth beneath an eternally twilight sky.
That’s… I could feel the awe in Sofia’s link.
“Thank you!” Thorne called. “We will balance the account, I promise!”
The Drażeri leapt upward, caught that horrific wind, and was dragged through the hole, as easily as if he were a leaf borne on the wind of autumn.
Wyatt, we can’t let the drones follow them. Sadhana’s bugging out.
Leaving?
I’ll explain later. Can you place the drones into defensive mode? I think Sadhana is finished attacking.
Will comply, he linked. Weirdo.
“Nicolas!” Thorne yelled. “Those generators are going to go!”