Resonant Abyss

by J. N. Chaney

  “Mr. Reed?” It was the princess’s voice. But she wasn’t looking nearly as princess-like as she’d been before. “Mr. Reed, can you hear me?”

  “My name…” I said, touching my throat. My voice sounded strange. “My name’s Mr. Reed?”

  “Yes,” the woman said, her face directly in mine. “Can you look me in the eyes?”

  I did, wincing as soon as we made eye contact. “Oh, gods, you’re terrifying.”

  “Yup,” the woman said. “He’s coming around.”

  “You okay, Flint?” came the other woman’s voice, the goddess.

  I blinked, trying to focus on her, thinking maybe her face would morph into something terrifying too. But it didn’t. It was still… “Rachel.”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “What… what happened?”

  “You pulled your mask off before we flushed the pod,” Monty said.

  “Almost got yourself killed, you little ass wipe,” added Mrs. Boneshaw.

  “Flushed the pod?” I asked. It still looked hazy, and I still felt buoyant, like I might float up to the ceiling if they let go of me.

  “With fresh air,” Monty added. “You took a big gulp of myst. But Mrs. Boneshaw gave you some gravity.”

  “Gravity?”

  “Not as in actual gravity. It’s what we call the chemical that helps you recover more quickly from the effects of the raw myst. But you won’t feel totally normal for a while still.”

  “How long?” Rachel asked. Her face still had a gentle glow about it.

  “A few hours,” Mrs. Boneshaw sang. No—she wasn’t singing. She was speaking. “Maybe more.”

  “A few hours?” Rachel ran a hand over her hair. “But he has to go meet with Oppenheimer right now.”

  “I’ll be fine, Rachel,” I said, reaching for her arm but missing. I tried several more times to grab it until she took my hand. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  “I’m not too sure about this,” Rachel said. “Can you give him more of that gravity drug first?”

  “More?” Boneshaw asked, her voice going up a whole octave. “Miss, if I give him any more, he’ll die of low blood pressure and a broken heart. That dose right there should have cleared him up better than this, but we take what we can get. Everyone’s different.”

  Rachel looked at me for a moment. Maybe she wanted to kiss me. Yeah, I’m pretty sure she wanted to kiss me. But I couldn’t quite sit up to move in for my 50 percent of the action. Still, I leaned forward and puckered my lips as best I could.

  “Flint?” Rachel asked.

  “Yesh?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “You wanted to kiss me.”

  I opened my eyes to see Rachel stare at Boneshaw. “We’re all going to die.”

  16

  Our RTV pulled into the main station at the enclave level, and the doors opened with a hiss. I was about to pull my mask on, not wanting another repeat of what had just happened, when Monty touched my arm.

  “You don’t need that up here, Mr. Flint. Remember?”

  That’s right. We’d been up here without masks on, moving the scanners around. It wasn’t until after we’d been in the pod for a while that we donned the masks.

  “Thanks, kid,” I said, lowering my arms.

  “You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Rachel asked as we stepped out of the pod and onto the main loading dock.

  I nodded, but everything still looked like it was shrouded in a thick haze. Not as thick as before Mrs. Boneshaw had stuck me with her knife—needle—but I could think straight. “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  The truth was, however, that I’d never been high on raw myst before and had no idea how long these aftereffects would last. But I couldn’t afford to keep Ozzie waiting, and Rachel needed to get cracking on an escape plan. “Just get access to the enclave, Rach. Gather as much intel as you can, and work with these two on a way to get everyone topside. I’ll handle Ozzie and prep Victor with Lars.”

  “And what if we find more artifacts?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t perceive that to be a problem,” Lars chimed in over comms.

  “What do you got for us, pal?” I asked.

  “With the scans 94 percent complete, I am fairly confident that the four artifacts you already retrieved from the mines, along with the one remaining in Mr. Oppenheimer’s office, are the only devices in the mine.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “No, sir. I cannot provide a conclusive finding until all the data is in. However, I can give you a, assurance value of 99.8945 percent at this present time.”

  “So you’re pretty sure,” I said. “Works for me.”

  “That means we don’t have to worry about digging around in these mines anymore,” Rachel added.

  “That is a logical conclusion, Miss Fontaine,” Lars said. “However, it should be noted that I am detecting an energy reading from your previous location in the lower mine.”

  “You mean, by the starship?” I asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  “What kind of energy reading?” Rachel asked.

  “I am uncertain.”

  I considered the possibilities but nothing made sense. “We don’t have time to wait around. Lars, let us know if it turns into anything. For now, let’s get to our respective…” Suddenly, I felt as though my words were pulled from my mouth and a wave of vertigo made me swoon. The fog grew thicker, and I felt myself starting to fly again.

  “Flint?” I heard someone say from far away. Then, all at once, the sensation left and I was back to normal. “Flint!”

  “What?” I asked Rachel who was all up in my face, snapping her fingers at me.

  “You just went somewhere.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, pushing her hands away.

  “It’s the myst,” Mrs. Boneshaw said. “No two ways about it. Might be like that for another day or two.”

  “Another day or two?” Rachel repeated, slacked-jawed. Then to me, she said, “Flint, you can’t—”

  “I can, and I must. Plus, there’s no time. We can’t raise Ozzie’s suspicions, and you’ve got to formulate a plan to get everyone out. I suggest you retrieve the scanners too.” I thought of the MX090s and the multi-function grenades hidden in the bases. “The weapons could come in real handy.”

  “Right.” She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced about my departure.

  “Gods, woman,” I said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me or something.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’d be wrong there.”

  “Then drop all this concerned crap, would you?”

  “What I’m concerned about is having to explain to Tiny why a crazed lunatic bit your face off.”

  “He’ll be fine,” I said, waving her off. “Tiny loves me for my personality anyway.”

  “Anyone could have told you that,” she replied. I cocked my head at her, thinking of something smart to shoot back, when Rachel leaned forward and kissed me on the side of the cheek. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

  “See you soon,” I replied, stunned by her genuine display of affection. This wasn’t sex… wasn’t lust. It was just care.

  Damn. I was going soft.

  “Sir?” Lars asked.

  “Go ahead, pal.”

  “Mr. Oppenheimer has requested that you meet him in his secondary office.”

  I slowed my pace. “He has a second office?”

  “Indeed, sir. It’s located several floors below his main office. He says it’s important he speak with you there.”

  “You have directions?”

  “At your disposal now.”

  I felt my wrist comm chime and rolled my hand over. The device glowed with an alert, signaling the arrival of new data. I activated the holo display, and a map of the upper buildings appeared.

  “Proceed to the elevator and take the lift to sub level ten,” Lars instructed.

  “Can do,” I replied, quickening my pace again
. It took only another minute before I was at the elevator and had pressed the button to call the car. I stood around waiting for the vehicle, watching fog move through the hallway. “What is it with you and me and elevators, buddy?”

  “Sir?”

  “Feels like we were just doing this together, you know?”

  “You are referring to our activity on Sellion City.”

  “Yeah. What else would I be referring to?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. I’m simply trying to get used to your sentimentality, as well as your perception of the passage of time. Using the descriptor ‘just’ to refer to something that happened several weeks ago doesn’t seem appropriate.”

  “Gods, Lars. You sure do know how to ruin a moment.”

  “What moment did I ruin, sir?”

  I chuckled. “All of them.”

  “Oh.”

  The elevator car arrived and the doors parted. I stepped inside, instantly aware of the urine smell coming from the corner. But within a moment, the odor changed to that of… flowers. I shook my head and blinked, watching the haze follow me into the elevator car as the doors closed. More time must’ve passed than I realized because Lars had to ask me twice if I was going to push the icon for subfloor ten.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I said, thumbing the right floor.

  “My pleasure, sir.” There was a beat or two before Lars asked, “Are you feeling well, sir?”

  “Gods, why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  “Your pupil dilation is fluctuating, as if your pulse, blood pressure, and your endorphin levels are spiking in waves.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, you’re also exhibiting—”

  “I was kidding, pal. I get it. That myst hit really went to my head.”

  “And to your circulatory system, nervous system—”

  “Has anyone told you that you overshare?”

  He paused. “Overshare, sir?”

  “Yeah. You’re like… you’re a classic oversharer, is all.”

  “I’m sorry. That term is not in my lexicon. However, I will initiate a gal-net search for all instances of the term in the hopes of associating a workable definition—”

  “That,” I said suddenly.

  “This?” Lars replied.

  “You don’t need to look it up, Lars. What you just did right there, that’s oversharing.”

  “But, sir, I was merely trying to—”

  “I know what you were trying to do. But when a guy is tripping out on myst and about to confront a former syndicate hitman one on one, you don’t need to share so much detail about stuff.”

  Again, there was another short pause as Lars’s brain, or whatever he used, processed what I said. “I think I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Great. Now…”

  The elevator halted and I heard the cables jerk overhead. Gods, this thing is a deathtrap. No sooner did I think that, however, than I imagined the elevator car jiggling like a bowl of congealed dessert. It smelled fruity. I even thought about jumping in the car to make the dessert jiggle again.

  “Sir?” Lars said, snapping my attention back to the hallway that was appearing as the door opened in front of me.

  “I’m good, pal. Thanks.”

  I stepped into the fog-filled hallway and checked the holo map floating above my wrist again. The path, however, seemed blurry. Lars worked with me over comms to navigate the hallways, each one looking a little less industrial and a little more elegant, though nothing like the corridors we first walked through. Those were like… like I was in a fancy castle.

  “A fancy castle, sir?” Lars asked.

  “What’d you say?” I replied.

  “What was that about a fancy castle?”

  “Who said anything about a fancy castle, pal?”

  Lars hesitated. “You did, sir.”

  “The hells I did.”

  Suddenly, my own voice played in my ear, saying in a wistful tone, “It was so pretty, like being inside a fancy castle.”

  I massaged my forehead. “Sorry, Lars. I guess I’m not… I mean, the myst is really… What I meant to say was—”

  “You’re still high, sir. I understand. And your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Thanks, cause if Rachel knew how bad it really was—”

  “She’d likely kill you, sir.”

  “Right. And I prefer not to die today.”

  “And yet you are about to speak with Mr. Oppenheimer while high?”

  “Yeah. You think he scares me as much as Rachel?”

  “Valid point.”

  I smiled.

  “You have arrived, sir,” Lars informed me.

  I looked at a pair of gun-metal gray sliding doors. “In here?”

  “Correct, sir. I suggest you use the intercom system beside the door.”

  “Right,” I said, reaching for the call icon on the screen. I pressed the button and heard Ozzie’s gravelly voice reply a beat later. His face appeared on the screen, cast in hard light that left a shadow across half his face.

  “Mr. McBride,” he said. “And Miss… Where is Miss Mason?”

  “I’ve come alone,” I said.

  “But I specifically asked—”

  “Are you going to open the doors or not, Oppenheimer?” I paused. “Lars, override these doors—”

  “That’s not necessary, Mr. McBride. Please”—the doors slid apart— “come in.”

  “Thank you,” I said. My voice disappeared into a large room, the height and width of which I could only guess at. Like everything else, the office was filled with wispy tendrils of haze, ebbing and billowing like small cloud formations. Only, in here, the fog seemed thicker. Maybe because the office was much darker than the hallway. It felt more like being down in the mines than in a space designed by the ostentatious Oswald Oppenheimer.

  “That AI of yours is rather resourceful,” Ozzie said from behind a small desk at the far end of the room. A single table lamp shone across his face at an angle.

  “So you finally noticed, did you?” I asked, trying not to sound surprised.

  Ozzie grinned. “I try and stay attuned to all of the goings on in my mine.”

  “I would expect nothing less.” I neared his desk and looked for a chair. Sitting down would help my head right now. Help me focus.

  Ozzie seemed to read my thoughts. “There are no chairs in here, Mr. McBride. I’m sorry. But I won’t keep you long. I simply wanted you to see where I speak with the miners when I need to.”

  “I must say, you certainly went for a different design feel here. I like it. It’s sparse, understated. It says, I don’t need to show off my wealth to prove I have power over you, you prancing pathetic weaklings.”

  Ozzie chuckled. “Something like that.” He stood from behind his desk and moved toward me, eyeing me. “Tell me, Mr. McBride… are you feeling alright, mate?”

  “Feeling alright?” I echoed. “Of course I’m feeling alright. In fact, I feel fantastical.” Fantastical? “Fantastic. Just fantastic.” Dammit!

  “You were, after all, in the mines sampling the product, weren’t you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Yup, I was sampling the product. And it’s gooood. So good. Top notch.”

  “Yes…” Ozzie smoothed his beard with a hand. Swirls of haze streamed out of it. “Yes, it is.”

  “Sir,” said Lars, “are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

  I gave Lars a subtle, “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And, tell me, where did you say Miss Mason is?”

  “She’s also sampling the myst, Ozzie,” I said, feeling like my body was growing lighter and lighter the more we talked.

  “That’s a shame. I was really hoping to see her again.”

  “I know. Too bad for you. Disappointment’s a bitch, am I right?”

  Ozzie nodded. “Anyway, I asked you up to find out what you think of the mines so far?”

  “So far?” I asked, nodding in what I hoped was a properly impressed fashion. “Not bad.”<
br />
  “The quality of the raw myst?”

  “I’m enjoying it.”

  “I can see that,” he said.

  The smile on the man’s face seemed to start glowing.

  “How about the miners?” Ozzie asked.

  “Exquisite.” Exquisite?

  “You found the miners exquisite?”

  I nodded.

  “Then, does that mean you wish to proceed with the mine’s purchase?” Ozzie asked.

  “I still have a few more items on my checklist, but…”

  “But?”

  “But?” I asked.

  “No,” said Ozzie, “you said ‘but.’ I was just complimenting your but.”

  “Complimenting my butt?” What was this man talking about? “I thought you were into Rachel.”

  Ozzie laughed. “I think you took one too many hits down there in my mine, mate,” Ozzie said, walking toward me. “Why don’t you take a little while to—”

  “No, no. I’m fine,” I insisted.

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded, but my head felt like it was disconnecting from my neck every time I swung it up and down. The motion seemed to pull me off my feet, like I was begging to fly, lifted up into the haze.

  “You know what,” Ozzie said, pulling out his cigar, “why don’t I call a few of those exquisite little bastard miners to come and help return you to—”

  “They’re not bastards,” I replied. My voice was stronger than I meant it to sound. But I couldn’t help the tone. It was as if the truest words of my heart were shooting out of my chest and I couldn’t stop them. “They’re people, you asshole, not animals. And you have no right to treat them the way you are.”

  “Hey, mate, listen—”

  “I mean, damn, you’d treat animals better than these people. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me?”