Clouded thoughts, inner voices not entirely her own whispered of great things to come, of glorious battles, overwhelming victories and grand empires. As her will eroded, she came to believe them.
* * *
Four hours until the next match. At long last, the bypass was ready. DaemonS had completed the temporary clone shunt that should override the monitor sensors. To the computers, Bodybag would appear to be in a game zone, even though she was in the base. Vorpal and Defcon had rewired the P-matrix feed to relay from the station buffer instead of the game zone and Pincer was still keeping watch over their reclusive teammate. Now the four of them stood poised to test their work.
“All ready?” DaemonS called from the captain’s station.
“Ready here,” came the muffled reply from amid the clone tanks.
She executed her patch and watched as the game monitor system came online. It showed a fictitious zone with a single green circle, presumably corresponding to Bodybag.
“First stage is green,” she yelled.
There were several minutes of impatient waiting before the return call.
“Second stage is green,” two voices simultaneously called back from the larger room.
It was time.
With grim determination, DaemonS stood, pulling her assault pistol from a drawer before making her way through the clone room, past a motionless Geneslicer, to the hallway. There she met Vorpal and Defcon, each similarly equipped.
“To kill a friend,” she whispered. “I hope this works.”
The others added their solemn nods of agreement as the trio marched down the barren, white hallway. It seemed much longer than at anytime before, yet they still arrived too soon.
Pincer awaited them at the supply room door, pistol ready. The small woman’s stoic visage couldn’t distract from her eyes, swollen and red with crying.
“Are we ready?” DaemonS asked.
She waited for three nods before palming the lock. The door slid open before them.
7
“It’s those dogs at Genilon. There’s no other explanation,” said Pre-emptive Strike. “It was clearly a failure of their technology that led to the permanent decommissioning of The Helldivers,” he added.
“You mean their deaths,” clarified Figment. He noticed that PS had a tendency to dehumanize situations — even if The Helldivers were androids.
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”
“Anyway,” Figment continued, “I find it difficult to believe that Genilon could be behind this. The very fact that all the failures have been in their equipment makes it too obvious. It draws too much attention to them. What do they have to gain by the negative publicity?”
“That is a good point,” PS conceded. “Those weasels at Genilon are sly though, there’s no telling what devious plan they’re up to.”
“I think we’re forgetting the bugs,” interjected NIGEL. He had become a regular at the meetings, although Figment wasn’t really sure why. Perhaps PS felt a government representative added credibility. In any case, NIGEL had a definite fixation with the Bruuz that bore more looking into.
“Yesss...,” said PS, clearly something had occurred to him. His face was almost visibly a puzzle, ideas twisting and turning as they fell into place. “I’m not sure, of course, but what if Genilon have allied themselves with the Bruuz? It would seem to be a mutually beneficial alliance.”
“How so?” asked Figment. The entire focus of the meeting seemed on the verge of an unreal shift in direction.
“Well,” continued PS, starting to get into his stride, “we all know that Genilon is the premier bioengineering corporation in the galaxy. And we all know that the Bruuz were defeated and humiliated in their attempts to take Earth, the latest of which was about fifty years ago in that... unfortunate loss of invaluable alien technology,” the wistful look in Pre-emptive Strike’s eyes was more than a little disconcerting for Figment, but the liaison hurried on, continuing with his deductive juxtapositioning. “Now, it seems to me that an alliance between the two would give both what they most dearly want. Genilon would get access to greater genetic stock for their gengineering program and the Bruuz would undoubtedly gain technology for enhancing their species in a potential bid for revenge.”
“Of course!” agreed NIGEL. “Being stronger or faster or more impervious to damage would turn the tide the next time they attack us. And it would be just like them to sacrifice all they are for victory.”
“Yes, and Genilon would have struck a deal with the devil, so to speak; they would be immune from attack due to both the aid they lent the Bruuz and their own newly-superior engineered beings,” added PS.
“It all makes perfect sense!” yelled NIGEL, almost clapping his hands.
Figment could only watch as the two liaisons fed off each other’s ideas to develop their theory more fully. It did have a ring of plausibility that couldn’t be discarded straight away, but there seemed to be something missing and Figment couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
“So it’s settled,” PS said, with an air of finality. “Figment, you must step up your efforts. It’s absolutely crucial that we infiltrate the Genilon base and acquire hard proof of this conspiracy. Use whatever means necessary to coerce aid. All our resources are at your disposal. Once we have secured hard evidence we’ll be able to move against both Genilon and the Bruuz. Time is of the essence,” he added.
“Thank you, gentlemen. This has been a most productive meeting,” said PS as he, and then NIGEL, faded from the room.
Figment was left wondering what he’d gotten into this time.
* * *
“Alright, it’s time, Bodybag,” DaemonS said, flicking on the lights to the supply room. Something slammed her hard in the chest, propelling her backward into the corridor. She crashed against the far wall.
“Oh my God!”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s got Bodybag!”
DaemonS shook the confusion from her head and climbed to her feet. She collected her weapon and turned, staring into the small room.
It was like something out of a Matcher’s nightmare. Wriggling tentacles of glistening, dark metal filled the space, spilling over into the hallway. They squirmed and twisted, a chaotic mass of artificial serpents that stretched outward, reaching for, and coming just short of the four teammates. In the midst of the writhing mass, at the far side of the room, a head could just be seen.
“I think it is Bodybag,” DaemonS said, staring closely at the face of her friend. It was contorted now, deformed into a hideous visage of pain and confusion.
The three other women had already opened fire, to little affect. Rounds from their semi-automatic weapons were either lost in the squirming mass of metal or ricocheted dangerously around the small room, the occasional bullet embedding into the corridor wall.
DaemonS leapt back, dodging another tentacle-sweep and fired off a few rounds of her own, aiming for the center of the chaos.
A rebounding bullet skinned her arm, leaving a thin trail of blood that was rapidly staunched by the enhanced regenerative ability of the cloned body. She fired off a second short burst and was about to call a retreat to regroup when there was a hideous scream from the room.
“Look out!” Defcon shouted as the motion of the tentacles intensified.
They squirmed and wriggled, flicking back and forth and lashing out in all directions. One swatted Vorpal, sending her flying through the air to crash into the corridor wall five meters away.
A glance showed that her friend was all right, if stunned, and DaemonS whipped her pistol around, aiming it again at the dark mass. She fired off another burst before a tentacle snaked out, grabbing Pincer around the waste and hauling the small woman toward the room.
“Help!”
Defcon ran into the midst of the tentacles, jammed her gun as far into the mass as she could and unleashed a sustained burst. For a moment, the thing appeared to
slow... before a pair of tentacles rippled outward, smashing her in her abdomen. Defcon doubled over as she was flung, hard, into the wall. DaemonS watched her teammate slide, unconscious, to the floor.
“Daem! Help!” Although she was fighting hard, pulling with all her energy against the door frame, Pincer was still being dragged into the ‘maw’ of the creature. And ‘maw’ it might well be, for DaemonS imagined it as a giant metallic squid with a voracious pointed beak somewhere in the midst of the room.
She fired off another short burst but stopped, seeing Pincer squirm, protecting herself from the bouncing rounds.
“Uhhh, my head.”
DaemonS leapt back again and spared a glance at Vorpal, who was just climbing to her feet.
“Grab your pistol, we could use your help,” she said turning her attention back to the dark occupant of the room.
Vorpal ran up beside her.
“Watch it Pincer,” DaemonS said, firing a brief staccato into the mass as Pincer covered her head.
There was another blood-curdling shriek. Pincer almost fell loose in the confusion of psychotic wriggling that ensued.
Then, in the midst of the squirming, churning mass of tentacles, DaemonS saw something both hopeful and distressing.
“There,” she pointed, “it’s Bodybag’s head.”
“I see it,” Vorpal answered.
There were coagulated punctures in the left cheek and DaemonS was reminded of the two screams.
“It really is Bodybag,” she said under her breath. Testing her theory, she drew a bead on the face and squeezed the trigger.
The tentacles, squirmed before the shot went off, deflecting the main thrust of the attack but the being screamed again. DaemonS saw a red streak appear on the left cheek before the face disappeared into the swirling mass.
“Somehow, it is Bodybag,” she said to the others.
“What?” Pincer yelled. She was losing her battle with the creature. She wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer.
“Vorpal, we’re going to need you in front.”
“You have a plan, Daem?”
“Follow my lead; watch the middle and as soon as you can see between the eyes, take the shot.”
“Help!” Pincer had been forced away from the door frame and was quickly being subsumed by the metallic mass.
“I’m going in,” DaemonS said over her shoulder as she lunged for the writhing blob, sliding between the outer tentacles. “You’re not going to get many chances, so make the first one count.”
The tentacles slithered about her, reaching for her arms, her legs but each time she managed to wriggle free. There was no sign of Pincer, but she couldn’t worry about that now. It was crucial that she buy Vorpal the shot and the only way she knew how was to disturb this... thing... enough that the head surfaced. DaemonS plunged her pistol deep into the milieu and pulled the trigger.
A hideous scream erupted from within the mass and, for a moment, the head surfaced. DaemonS shrank to one side, hoping that Vorpal had the shot. A thin streak of red appeared on the top of Bodybag’s scalp. It wasn’t enough.
Again, DaemonS plunged her pistol into the writhing mound and fired. Once, twice. The weapon was ripped from her grasp; tentacles entrapped her arms and legs. She fought with all her strength, resisting the pull of the metallic arms as they dragged her into the monstrosity. Throwing her body left, then right, DaemonS struggle to free herself to no avail. And then... the head appeared.
“Now Vorpal!” Before she finished the yell, a triad of red circles appeared between Bodybag’s eyes.
The creature screamed and the tentacles tightened but no other effect could be discerned. Could it be that the metal alloy of the tentacles permeated its skull?
As it again sank from sight, two more red streaks appeared on the top of the head.
“It’s no good, Daem,” came the faint yell from the corridor.
Light and sound dimmed as the tentacles enclosed her, dragging her fully within the mass. She was now held so tightly that she could achieve little more than a violent jiggling. More and more tentacles filled the space around her until she was no longer sure which direction led out of the monster.
Then, the space before her cleared and the metal arms released her. Bodybag’s head appeared before DaemonS. It seemed to be the only vaguely organic part of her former teammate remaining. Immediately below the head extended a metal cylinder that spread to form the hideous caricature of a human torso. From below the torso, all of the tentacles extended, spreading out as if Bodybag had become some twisted engineer’s view of a technological octopus.
“Hi woman. Do you like my new look?” a horrible, raspy voice asked.
“Bodybag? Is that really you?”
“And more, I’m much improved from my old self.” That was a matter of opinion, DaemonS thought.
“What have you done to Pincer?”
“She’s around here somewhere.” Wicked laughter filled the small cavern. “I’m just about to start her conversion. She will be the first of you to join me in ascension.”
“Doesn’t seem like much of an ascension to me.”
“Only because you can’t yet feel it! It’s amazing. You can’t possibly believe....”
“I believe you’re a hideously warped version of my friend.”
“But I’m so much more. I can hear the world!”
“So?”
“Really hear. It’s happening all around me. The metal, the electronics, they’re alive, they speak to me.”
“Sounds like some of that metal has gone to your brain.”
“Laugh if you will, but you don’t know....”
Its eyes focused on her again, as if remembering some loose end. And then... the wide-eyed look of understanding.
“...but you will. Very soon, you will.”
DaemonS jerked from the sharp pain in her calf. If felt like a thin line of cold metal was being injected into her leg.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Rejoice, for you will be joining us shortly.”
Before she could react, her legs had been restrained anew by several tentacles.
“I don’t want to join you, why would I want to become such a monstrosity?”
“Not all of us are so. You can choose your form. Many walk as humans, for now. However, this form served the present purpose best.”
“There are more of you?” Surely it was only taunting her, seeking to foster a sense of hopelessness. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. It was impossible to imagine facing a squad of these things in combat.
Before it could answer, DaemonS saw her gun floating though the metallic sea, riding the random fluctuations of the tentacles. Her legs were still trapped, but her arms were free. As the head turned to speak, DaemonS twisted sideways, lurching for the pistol. Grasping the familiar grip she spun back, stretched forward and jammed the barrel into the creature’s mouth.
DaemonS squeezed the trigger hard, holding it as a continuous stream of bullets launched into the monster’s cranial cavity. The beast gave a brief, ear-shattering shriek before falling silent.
DeamonS continued to hold down the trigger long after her ammo was spent, rapid clicks and the whine from an empty firing chamber echoed amid the still tentacles.
8
It seemed like forever, but DaemonS managed to claw her way through the oppressive pile of motionless tentacles that had collapsed on her with the beast’s death. Vorpal and a still dazed Defcon were helping extricate a very shaken and bruised Pincer.
“How is everyone?” DaemonS asked, pulling herself free of the final tentacle.
“Alive,” came the answer from Defcon.
“... and thoroughly disgusted,” added Pincer, to half-hearted smiles.
“If we’re all ready, there’s still another job to do.”
“The clone tank!” Vorpal said. “I’d forgotten in the fight with... this.”
/> It was a mess, thought DaemonS. Even as they watched, wisps of smoke rose from the dark tentacles and the entire pile seemed to sink toward the floor.
But there wasn’t time to think about that now, Bodybag’s new clone should be exiting the tank.
Exhausted and blood-stained, the four women ran from the room. Stage one was over but the next stage of the plan would demonstrate whether they had been successful. They sprinted into the clone room, and down the corridors between the tanks.
The hum of pumps and the gurgle of nutrient broth being expelled from the cylinder died away as the four arrived at the clone tank. They watched the corpal with cautious anticipation as the sealing ring snapped open, venting compressed gases with a hiss. The duraglass cylinder casing slid open and a body moved toward them.
DaemonS stepped in front of the new clone, “Bodyba....” It fell from the tank into her arms and she staggered under the dead weight. Defcon and Vorpal rushed to her aid, laying the body gently to the floor as Pincer checked its vital signs.
“There’s no pulse, Daem,” the small woman relayed as she felt for the carotid, and then the radial pulse on the wrist. Pincer shook her head again, eyes openly showing what they all felt. They had failed. Bodybag was gone.
“Damn,” DaemonS whispered. “Damn it!” She slammed the open cylinder hard with her fist. Pincer was openly crying while Vorpal and Defcon continued to stare at the lifeless piece of bioengineered flesh.
After several long minutes, DaemonS stood. Pulling her eyes away from the form of Bodybag on the ground, she walked slowly past the others, eyes downcast, too heavy with sadness to lift.
“I’ll be in the captain’s station...,” she said in a low, hoarse voice, moving off toward the small room.
* * *
It wasn’t possible to focus. Try as she might, DaemonS couldn’t push from her head the image of her friend’s empty shell falling toward her. But she had to. She was the captain. It was her responsibility to get the team ready for their next match. It was less than two hours away.
Game, Set, Deathmatch Page 7