The Dossiers of Asset 108 Collection

by J M Guillen

  “Turrets.” Sofia nodded. “I saw them on the halo-piece that hangs off the back.”

  “The three turrets can be modulated to fire spikes that emanate Asset Guthrie’s entire axiomatic range.” She turned toward Sofia. “Alternatively, if an Asset geared with the Gatekeeper takes the gunner’s seat, those turrets can emulate the effects of that packet.”

  “That’s…” Sofia shook her head, clearly impressed by the craft. Then, something toward the back caught her eye. “That’s a tier two conduit hardline.” She took a step toward the circular device and ran her hand along the round edge of the device. “Within a vehicle?”

  “It will pair with the Gatekeeper as soon as you have one active,” the Designate explained. “You will be capable of arranging for your cadre to fall back to the Corvus without taxing your Temporal Corona.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head. “You guys put some thought into this thing.”

  “Many packets can be emulated through the Corvus’ bioware,” the Designate continued. “If the Artisan wishes, the Wraith or the Spectre can cloak the Realmship or render it insubstantial.”

  “Many packets? But not all, right?” I ran through the list of the ones I knew. “Some require adjunct devices.”

  “Limitations remain,” she confirmed. “Still, the craft makes for an impressive tool.”

  I can deploy telemetric resonators from here. Anya peered at a small console, the blue glow shining against her fair skin. Up to seventy-five of them.

  “Designate.” I shook my head with wonder. “This thing, it’s brilliant.”

  “Once you are geared, you can take the Corvus to Italy. It should accomplish the trip at nearly the speed of a tier one conduit.

  “By cutting through the gloaming?” Wyatt suddenly seemed ill at ease.

  “That’s affirmative.” The Designate nodded crisply at him. “The current configurations will make this journey far easier than the last one you took.”

  I should fucking hope so! Wyatt gave me a quick glance.

  “Extraction can be elegant.” The Designate stepped over to the conduit housing. “In theory, you can be anywhere in Rationality. Because this is a hardline conduit, your Gatekeeper shall be able to extract you to the craft.”

  “No Designate authorizations?” I raised one eyebrow and glanced at Sofia.

  “Not for this device.” She turned and smiled at Rachel. “Furthermore, a second hardline conduit exists in the medical station in the Citadel. Any member of this cadre can ignite a link between this conduit and that one for emergency services.”

  “It’s like we’re a team of superheroes,” Rachel breathed. “We’re like the Justice League!”

  “I saw that one,” I muttered to her. “I liked Spider-man.”

  “It’s a pretty toy.” Wyatt stretched and eyed me. “I sure do wish we knew someone brilliant enough to fly this thing.”

  “Me too,” I jibed. “But all we have is a worn-out stock car aficionado in overalls.”

  “Seriously, Hoss.” He shook his head. “This is a far sight better than a Facility helicopter.”

  “Do you have any further questions regarding the realmship?” The Designate glanced down at the tablet she carried before fiddling with its interface.

  “Dozens, I’m certain.” I turned first to Anya, then to the rest of my cadre. “But I, for one, would like to gear up and get moving. I imagine if we have any significant questions, the Designate-in-Charge will be able to assist us?”

  “That is an affirmative, Alpha.”

  I admit the title almost made me do a double take. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw both Wyatt and Sofia wince.

  Probably my imagination though.

  “Only a few more minutes before we can equip,” Rachel interjected. “I suppose this is as good of a time as any for the white room.”

  “Excellent!” The Designate beamed a smile. “Let’s move along, then.”

  5

  At first blush, the white room looked like every other white room I’d ever been in. Inside, the space seemed bent at odd angles that my mind had a difficult time tracking. As time went on, I found myself slowly giving into Wyatt’s superstitions regarding white rooms:

  “I did the math.” He used the same phraseology whenever the topic came up. “Non-Euclidian space. It has to be. I gear the Tangler inside there, remember. My system tells me all kinds of things about the place.”

  I didn’t know about all of that.

  Every time I stepped inside one of the white tile and stainless steel labs, I felt an odd sense of distortion however. My steps didn’t actually move me through space as much as the white room itself shifted me from one station to the next.

  As always, no light source shone within the brilliant room without a single shadow. A suggestion of a scent lingered in the surely sterile air. I’d never determined exactly what the white rooms smelled like. They smelled clean but not harsh like disinfectant. The fragrance comforted and calmed me.

  Neurochemical manipulation, I imagined.

  Eight different weapon cabinets housed menacing, black firearms. A ninth cabinet held bits of body armor and various tools. A couple of duffel bags hung on the wall with some luggage and briefcases on the shelf beneath. Some were ordinary; others concealed weapons. I saw kinetic disruptors, Mavericks with their null-materia rounds, and a wall full of Wrath-class explosives.

  Bishop, Michael. Asset 108. The Adjunct still had Paige as its aspect, but this voice in my Crown was decidedly neutral. Welcome, Alpha of the Citadel.

  I stopped in my tracks for a moment, suddenly trembling.

  Mike?

  “Just… Just no.”

  I sat back against one of the tables, running my hands through my hair. My breath came quickly, and for a moment, I felt as if I might retch.

  Hey, Mike? Is something wrong?

  “Um, yes.” I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m not Alpha, Paige.”

  I mean, it says you are. Pause. You went straight from Asset Second Tier to Alpha? Smooth one.

  “You don’t get it,” I spat. “Alpha DuMarque should be here. He—”

  I stopped, not having the words to explain.

  Alpha DuMarque is not Alpha of the Citadel.

  “Um, yeah. I get that.” I scoffed. “It’s been less than one day. I’ve just been on dossier with him. I keep expecting to see him step up next to me. Or crack a joke. But no.”

  Mike—

  “Gideon is dead!” I yelled. “He was fucking slaughtered by the Darkened Road… by Amir Cadavas!”

  Yes. The Adjunct sounded so small. That’s true.

  “I’m not ready for this.” I took a deep breath, shaking my head. “I’m not the one who should be making choices, not for all of us.”

  You are Alpha of the Citadel. The Adjunct did not seem to understand. But then, how could it?

  I’d never felt so powerless.

  So alone.

  I have a file here. I believe it might be required, Mike.

  “Sure.” I waved one hand. “Whatever.”

  I’ll just play this over your visual array. Your Crown needs more processing space for a full on phaneric relay.

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  A bluish rectangle appeared upon my visual array. After a moment it flickered just a bit and then letters appeared at the bottom.

  Debriefing Dossier I88-1998

  End interview.

  Catalyst notations.

  That…

  I88-1998 referred to the terrible party that Sadhana had thrown us at The Spire. If this were the exit interview with the Catalyst…

  “What is this?” I asked.

  Important.

  I saw Gideon before I heard him. Just as I recalled, he looked like a hobo that had been on a three week bender during that little adventure. That dossier had been rough; difficult in ways he hadn’t been accustomed to.

  Gideon appeared exhausted. As I stared, fascinated, the feed began to pl
ay, mid-sentence.

  “—o, in answer, yes.” He shrugged. “Not only do I think Citadel is an appropriate response, but I think you’ve made some excellent choices over all.”

  “You don’t think the recklessness of 108 will be a negative factor?” I couldn’t see the Designate, but the deep voice implied a male.

  “108 is difficult to control, to anticipate.” This came from Designate Ling. I couldn’t see her but I knew her reserved tone well. “We simply have concerns.”

  “Don’t.” Gideon met the gaze of whoever’s Crown feed this was. “It’s more than a mistake to underestimate him. It’s stupid.”

  “Explain,” the male said.

  “Bishop is the best leader that you haven’t had the sense to train,” he responded. “You get so caught in protocol and mission specs, it’s easy to forget how…” he smiled. “How fluid things can be out there.”

  “How does this pertain?” Ling asked.

  “Bishop moves in accordance with what the mission actually requires. He cares about his people and will wade through fire to get them out. He will accomplish whatever you put in front of him.”

  “He also breaks every protocol on record.” Again, the male Designate. “He doesn’t help if he is as large a threat to Rationality as the Irrats.”

  “You asked me.” Gideon shrugged. “I assume you trust me and trust my opinions. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be gearing Catalyst.”

  “Of course,” Ling agreed.

  “Then I cannot stress this enough. You do not possess an Asset as suited for this job as 108. I have never known another man like him. Michael Bishop is the single best choice for your new cadre modality. I would absolutely trust his character and leadership.” He looked at the Designates squarely.

  “And that’s your final word?” Ling asked.

  “No,” Gideon said. “My final word is that, quite frankly, if you disagree then I don’t know if I support the Citadel initiative.”

  “Explain,” said the male.

  “It’s a huge project. You need the best people you have on the docket.” He shrugged. “If you can’t see that Bishop is an obvious choice, then I question your judgement regarding the entire thing.”

  The feed went dark.

  I sat in the white room, trying not to break down like a little kid.

  Around me, reality-altering technology sat in shelves or rested in futuristic housings. Any one of these devices could work miracles, give me capabilities that few humans could imagine.

  But not one of them could ever give me what Gideon DuMarque had.

  6

  Eventually, I managed to push myself up and start moving.

  Somehow.

  Toward the back, I found the stainless steel doors that certainly formed the conduit to my personal white room. I made directly for it with the thought that perhaps I should pick up my personal gear before I checked out what the Citadel had to offer.

  Paige, I’d like access to my personal white room, I linked as I walked toward the door.

  Sure thing! Initiating conduit now. The doorway back to my bedroom clicked loudly.

  The seam pulsed a brilliant viridian shine.

  That glaring emerald light assaulted my mind, impossible to look at directly. I glanced away, but the light died almost as quickly as it had begun.

  I stepped through.

  I took a long, deep breath and felt my shoulders sink, relaxing.

  The white room connected to my apartment had my own special touches. I’d set up elegant displays for my katana and my Stilettos, just in case I needed to grab them quickly while on a cold boot.

  Along the far wall sat several system banks with the ability to print cash, credit cards, and various bits of ID: passports, driver’s licenses, national ID cards. We often needed these things when we took on other personas.

  We couldn’t all be Facility Liaisons, after all.

  “Although the Façade looks like it’d be a lot of fun,” I mumbled. Hell, with that tech I could run around and be my own cadre.

  I’ll be traveling to Italy. I went over to the case. I require a passport, national ID, and… I thought for a moment. Lira? Euros? Whatever currency they use in Italy.

  Got it, Mike. The matter-energy conflux used to create such things began to buzz in the far corner. Are we using the credentials Demetrius Stone fabricated for you earlier today?

  Yes. I imagine that’s in line with our dossier.

  Will comply.

  I stepped over to my Stiletto display. The sleek, black pistols were lighter than expected, a new design, I realized, yet these had the specialized scrollwork along the grip that marked my personal weapons. It’d taken some time, but I’d come up with a cool, braided pattern I enjoyed.

  Wyatt teased me, but I didn’t care. I’d found that personalizing the weapons helped me hang on to them a little longer than simply carrying Facility standard.

  Hanging on to my weaponry had been an issue in the past.

  I grabbed the pistols and popped the blue injectors from the bottom. Seconds later they hissed as the specialized mecha flooded my bloodstream.

  Bishop, Michael. Asset 108. Are we synchronizing your pistols? Paige’s personality shone through even this system prompt.

  “We are.” I spoke out loud. “Please synchronize both for item possession and neural link.”

  Synchronization initiated.

  I felt a tingle in my Crown as the mecha altered the parameters of my nervous system. Knowing the sync would progress regardless of what I did, I peered into one of the cabinets.

  “I’m all out of Tabula Rasa.” I frowned. “I hope the Designate is right and I can pick some up back at the Citadel.”

  It seemed like I was always blowing something up. Most of the time, it had been required.

  At least, that was what I told myself.

  I stood up straight and slipped over to where I kept my katana. Like the disruptors, I’d chosen to personalize their hilts, giving some style to the dark wood. On these, however, Japanese kanji scrolled along the hilt.

  I couldn’t say why, but since I’d made these weapons my own, I found it far easier to keep them in hand when the shit went down.

  When I hefted the first katana, I felt the slightest difference in weight. “Wait.” I tilted my head abruptly at it and turned the weapon over in my hand, then noticed the bottom of the hilt held a small blue vial of mecha, much as my disruptors did.

  Query, I sent to the system. What is the nature of the weapon I hold in my hand?

  Oh, Mike, Paige bubbled. That is a Shogun-class blade, the most recent innovation in Facility melee weaponry. The blade has the capacity to synchronize with your Crown for greater speed and accuracy.

  “Reeeeally.” That sounded amazing. Plug that in with the Adept, and I’d be a slaughter-matic death machine.

  I popped the injector and noted they hissed exactly as the others had. As I injected them, an almost identical prompt came to my Crown:

  Bishop, Michael. Asset 108. Do you wish to synchronize the Shogun?

  I absolutely do. I spun the blades the couple of times, sheathed the weapons, and grinned a wide and bloodthirsty smile.

  Synchronization initiated.

  The syncs would take some time, so I went over to the white room closet entrance. I reached for the upper left corner of the large, stainless steel cabinet next to it and placed my palm against the smooth metal.

  My hand tingled.

  Asset 108, confirmed.

  “That’s right, ‘confirmed,’” I chuckled as the cabinet hissed with hidden hydraulics.

  I entered.

  On the left hung several suits, horribly expensive things; the right held several hi-tech versions of quasi-steel tactical wear. A mirror shone from the back of the wardrobe, and a light above it flicked on as I stepped inside.

  I began to get dressed.

  Moments later, I stood outside the wardrobe, fully garbed in tailored, quasi-steel suaveness.

  As I finish
ed, I noted the small refrigerator nestled against the wall. I knelt down, opened it, and then took several vials of viral mecha.

  Rachel would bring more, I had no doubt.

  I even made sure to grab a few of my specialized mecha-meds. They looked like the typical injector, only the side had a light green stamp that showed a series of numbers.

  “A VM a day keeps the bloodthirsty, poetic wolf aberration away,” I chanted to myself as I stood. “Okay, what else?”

  I walked back over to where the conflux had printed my paperwork and cash. My items rested in a tray, contained within a small manila envelope.

  I picked it up and peered inside.

  “Euros, huh?” I shrugged and pulled out my government ID. It still felt warm, and the photo seemed—

  “Wait a minute.” I peered at the ID and stared at the name. “Gianni Stallone?” I frowned. Less than a second of Crown exploration led me to the English translation of the name.

  Johnny Stallion.

  “Oh my God. This guy!” I shook my head, both angry and amused. “Anya can’t say it’s an accident now, can she?”

  Pocketing the documents, I grumbled a bit, then, deciding that perhaps I wanted to explore the Citadel white room, stepped back through the conduit.

  Welcome, Bishop, Michael. Asset 108, the neutral voice stated. What can we equip for you today, Alpha?

  This prompt wasn’t Paige, I noticed.

  “I’m not sure, actually.” I glanced over to where the Cradle waited in the corner, all looming chrome and obsidian glyphs. “But let’s see what there is on offer, shall we?”

  I’d never truly liked this device but had no clear reason why. The Cradle offered an Asset a world of flexibility and granted the capability to perform all manner of minor miracles. Dependent upon availability, the packets gave me mastery over localized axioms.

  With some limitations, of course. The Facility would never license us to behave completely like Irrats.

  A halo of white metal hovered impossibly in the air around the Cradle. Several fine grooves on its surface allowed a metallic swing arm to move freely. A polished chrome plate inset with dark surface markings gleamed in the white metal.