Helen had to ask the flightmaster about the differences. The giant man just shook his head as though he'd been asked to explain how syrup worked. "You know this is all on the wiki, right?"
"I prefer the human touch."
He sighed, but it seemed a bit theatrical. "Okay, you got Troz. It's a sort of hacker's collective, good place to go to get your geek on. Newer Troy, there you got yourself a lesbian free love commune with a sort of anarcho-syndicalist vibe. The cyborgists mostly hang around Troy Extreme Edition, so you'll find your Kriti girl there a lot. Creep me out, them cyborgists. Isn't natural."
"Which one is William in?"
The man let out a loud, not unkind laugh. "Ah, you're one of those. He moves around a lot, though he spends most of his time in Troy 2.0. Be warned, girl, he's a stubborn one by all accounts. If you're looking to make time with him, you're probably in for a long wait. If you ask me, the guy is selfish, doesn't treat his women the way they ought to be treated. You should move on, maybe have yourself a nice rebound fling with, say, a rather handsome and exceptionally tall man. Maybe one with a fifth level Gryphon Training Certificate and excellent prospects."
"Not sure where you'd find such a man," he added.
Helen reached up and poked a finger into the man's cheek muscles. "You're very lifelike. Who are you?"
"Peter Rowalski, ma'am. Go ahead and look me up. You always do."
She did. He was an Eastern European man of Polish descent, two decades past his 100th birthday, and had been missing for the last six weeks. Helen was surprised to find that, at least before the ravages of age had whittled him down, Peter really had been seven feet tall.
"You uploaded?"
"It was that or die. This way, I can spend my days taking care of these magnificent creatures and chatting up pretty girls. Dead, you're lucky if somebody digs you up and searches your teeth for gold fillings every decade or so. It's impolite, but it breaks the monotony."
Helen smiled. "Maybe I should become a grave robber. You make it sound like a public service."
"Take it from me. Old bones enjoy company, especially from pretty young things." He pulled one of the harnesses from where they hung on the platform's center post. "You ever ride a gryphon before?"
"Not since riding camp in fourth grade."
"And then the gryphon was a broken down old mare named Windwhisper. I know. We've had this conversation before." It didn't sound like he meant to be mean, but the comment made Helen flush a bit at her lack of originality. She was glad the flightmaster was too busy saddling up the gryphon to notice.
"I do have to ask," she said, hoping to change the subject, "why did they choose the Warcraft1 theme for this?"
"Design by committee, youngun," he said, pulling the strap of a saddle tight around the gryphon's waist. It let out an annoyed chirpgrowl. "It had to interface with all the cities, so it had to be acceptable to everyone. But too many of you were in love with their own ideas. This place represents a breakdown in negotiations."
"Not that I mind," Peter added. "I really didn't want to be a shoggoth wrangler. Those things smell like an open sewer line. Gryphons, though, gryphons are majestic, noble creatures and fearsome warriors. I once saw one drag an F-22 out of the sky in an interworld skirmish." He walked the creature over to Helen. Its beak opened and gave a squawk. "Some of the birds, they don't know how to deal with new riders. They pretty much take off and go wherever they want. Not old Starscream, though. She's gentle. She'll behave for you. Hop on."
Helen put a boot in the stirrup and threw her other leg over the saddle. The creature turned and glared at her with one black eye. "Wraaak," she said, spreading out her wings. She had at least a twenty foot wing span.
"Okay, now you just kick your heels into her belly, and Starscream will run off the platform. The first step is a doozy. If you get any aggro on your way, just pull open the drawstrings on the saddlebags and run the other way. I'll be watching the flights from the tower, so I can send aid."
Helen nodded. "What sort of aggro are we talking about here?"
"Wolfish, mostly. Nobody else seems to be able to hack into our connections anymore."
"Anything else?"
"Plenty. But you're the type who prefers to figure it out as she goes." He gave Helen's shoulder a familiar squeeze that made her wonder what sort of liberties her sisters had been taking with him. It didn't make her uncomfortable, though. Only curious.
Of course, she thought to herself. Just idle curiosity.
"Thank you for everything," she told Peter, then dug her heels into her ride, which sprinted off the platform and dove toward the ground. Helen gripped the pommel of the saddle for dear life as the wind whipped by her faster and faster. At the last moment, the gryphon turned up, flapping toward the sky, making Helen's stomach stomp on her intestines. When they finally leveled off, she guided the bird unsteadily in the general direction of Troy 2.0.
Miles passed, and the thrill of the flight soon gave way to boredom and restlessness. "Polly wanna play checkers?" she asked, but got no response. "Battleship? Go? Thermonuclear War?" The restlessness only increased, until it became intolerable. On impulse, she grabbed the reins and turned her bird into a spiraling nosedive, then pulled up. The sensation exhilarated her in a way that was hard to describe.
She twisted the reins again, sending the creature into a lazy circle. She sat back, letting the wind flow through her hair, across her face, along her outstretched wings. She daydreamed about the end of the flight, how she would curl up in clean straw and gnaw on a bloody haunch of venison. Or maybe she would double back to hunt down that herd of gazelles she saw a while back. One of them looked so deliciously injured.
The sensations felt so natural to her that she spent a minute or so entranced before she realized that something strange had happened. But for that minute, she had linked her mind with the bird's mind and slipped beyond care, beyond language, into a dreamlike world with nothing but blue skies, rushing wind, and the ecstasy of flight. Coming out of it was like waking from an amazing dream.
She looked at her bird. Her bird looked back at her as if to ask, Did that just happen? Did we just pull a fricking Weatherwax?
Helen tried to relax again, to empty her mind. It was difficult, since she knew what it was that she was trying to relax into. After several minutes of willful non-effort, she caught it again, just for a few seconds. Then she would think about it, and would lose it again. She finally caught it in earnest. Starscream seemed to sense the connection, and began a series of euphoric swoops, as if to show off. Helen's body instinctively clung to the reins, even as her mind grew to encompass every thought and sensation that the gryphon experienced.
Helen began to feel herself re-emerge in drips and drabs. At first she thought she was losing the connection, but if anything it was getting stronger. She still felt the sensations that flowed in from each body. She scanned the horizon with two sets of eyes and felt the lurch of a sharp dive in two stomachs. It seemed that Starscream was accepting the connection between them, making room for it, not ceding control so much as negotiating a new, singular mind to share between them.
They flew onward for what might have been hours. Then, with their sharpened vision, they saw a swarm of dark, liquid shadows in the distance. Helen instinctively knew that they were enemies, and Starscream's blood thrilled at the prospect of battle. Swept away in that surge of emotion, the link between the two fused hard. Helen ceased, Starscream ceased, and something new -- Hellscream, she quickly named herself -- emerged and wheeled toward her prey.
Somewhere, in the corner of her mind, she heard Peter's voice crackling from the radio attached to the saddle. "...you listening? Do not engage! Get out of there, kid! Shit! I'm sending reinforcements. Open your saddlebags!"
Oh, right, saddlebags, Hellscream thought. Now that her attention was drawn to them, she could sense other minds within them, stirring and restless. She reached back with one hand and pulled on the drawstring. Tiny, furry rat faces popped
out, scanning the skies for enemies. Seeing the approaching swarm, they leapt from the bags and took wing, flying in formation alongside her.
Flying rats, Hellscream thought to herself. My, my, we do live in remarkable times. There were twenty-two rats in all. She reached out to their minds by ones and twos, drawing them in and weaving them together in a web of shared eyes, shared wings, and shared will. It felt to Hellscream as though she had become a cloud on the wind, a cloud full of teeth and claws and talons and bloodlust.
The swarm of enemies was on top of them now. Helen felt the urgent call of one last mind, one which sensed the call of battle and was eager to join it. It came from the saddlebag. Helen reached in and felt a thin rod of cold, heavy metal. She grasped it and pulled, and drew out a sword far longer than the saddlebag should have been able to contain. The blade caught the sunlight. Hellscream reached out to the small, simple mind imbued within the artifact, whose only want in the world was to slice through enemies and defend whoever wielded it. Inscribed in delicate, ornate letters on the blade were the words, "I IZ DEFBREENGER. U PHEER NOWZ."
Hellscream looked at the rapidly multiplying cloud of foes, tens of thousands strong. They were all bone white, insectoid looking things in an infinity of sizes and shapes. Some were lumbering, armored things, while others were liquid and amorphous, squidlike creatures darting through the sky as though it were water. These were creatures out of her nightmares, and they should have terrified her. But she was beyond terror; she aimed straight for the heart of the cloud. As madness overtook her, her final coherent thought was, gonna suck to be them.
The smaller cloud punched into the larger one in a frenzy of noise and pain. Hellscream felt the impact course through her as she knocked enemies aside. Tiny teeth bit into the oily flesh of the squid creatures, then dodged away. The gryphon dodged and dove among the enemies, four sets of talons snaking out to crush and rake anything that came near, while the sword drew a criss-crossing path of death and destruction through the sky. They saw an opening, and Hellscream dove through it and out past the first wave.
Now she was in the heart of the storm, where more powerful enemies lurked. Hellscream could sense the squids coming around to give chase, but she flew on, heedless of all danger. She took aim for the biggest, nastiest thing she could see, an insectoid creature with a gleaming white carapace, bigger than a bus. It had oversized mandibles and balloonlike extrusions protruding in pairs from its back, which kept it aloft. As the Hellscream swarm approached, its mouth opened and sent out a wave of sound that deafened them and knocked them out of the air. They righted themselves and swept in behind it, quickly dispatching the creatures that guarded its rear. It turned too slowly, and the gryphon dove beneath it, cutting off a leg and delivering a crippling blow to its belly. The rats followed, bursting through the balloons that held it aloft and sending the thing tumbling toward the ground.
She wanted to turn and see if she had killed it, but it was out of reach, and altitude was precious. She climbed higher and higher, toward the exposed underbelly of another creature like the one they had just dispatched. This one had allies, though. As Hellscream approached, dozens of small creatures with spindled legs and dorsal balloon sacs detached from the mothership, floating down and forming a barrier between the creature and the approaching warriors, their long legs interlocking as though they were in an exceptionally earnest game of Red Rover.
Helen had played that game as a child, and she had played to win. The rats pulled in towards Helen, as they focused on a single point that looked especially vulnerable. The rats flew ahead, attacking the thin, spidery limbs and popping balloons. The gryphon hit the wall, which offered no resistance, and sailed through and towards their target. The sword raked the creature's underbelly, which erupted in green gore. Split almost in two, the creature gave one final shudder before collapsing, lying slack beneath its balloons.
The rats withdrew and rejoined the gryphon. Together, they sailed on toward the very center of the cloud. She somehow sensed that the cloud was protecting something, and that she wanted to rip that thing's eyes from its sockets.
She fought onward until she saw it. In the center, surrounded by a screaming pack of vicious, lurching things, floated Wolf359. "I have been expecting you," it said in that grating monotone she had come to loathe. "I have come to extend you an offer."
Helen might have listened. Despite her boiling hatred, she would have wanted to hear its offer in full. Hellscream was not Helen, though. Drenched in adrenaline and honed by battle into an efficient killing machine, the swarm vetoed her intentions and launched toward the enemy with a collective battle cry.
This seemed to take Wolf by surprise. She slipped through the grasping claws of Wolf's defenders, swinging the sword downward, delivering a furious blow that glanced off her opponent's arm. She wheeled around and attacked again, crashing into Wolf and bouncing off. With a few powerful flaps of the gryphon's wings, she rose back up above her enemy to attempt a dive. Wolf raised an arm. Daggerlike fingers shot out from his hand, the flying projectiles shooting straight through the gryphon's belly, sending an excruciating wave of pain through the entire swarm.
The gryphon was plunging, and Helen jumped off, aiming herself towards Wolf359. She drew back the sword, and Wolf's arm came up to ward off the blow. The blade connected, and sliced through the arm, which exploded in fragments as the sword buried itself in the top of Wolf's porcelain head.
It cracked, but it held. Wolf's remaining arm lashed out and clutched Helen by her throat. Hellscream unraveled, returning the minds that comprised her to their respective owners. As she came apart, Helen's last sensation as part of the swarm was to feel her gryphon being torn apart by one of Wolf's underlings.
Helen dangled in the sky, terrified, her throat choked off by a steel grip.
"I was going to offer peace," Wolf told her, its voice cracked and disrupted by the damage done to it. The sword dislodged from its face, tumbling beyond Helen's grasp. "I had come to believe that a sort of coexistence was possible. It appears that hypothesis is not valid." Helen could barely hear the words above the wrenching pain of her neck.
Then Wolf359 looked away, as though something had distracted it. The pain in Helen's neck released, and she began to fall. Mercifully, she passed out.
* * *
1 Note to editor:2 find out if you're allowed to say 'Warcraft' in a published work of fiction. If not, alternatives include OrcCraft, ElfQuest, QuestRealms, and Life-Destroying Online Heroin Dispensary.
2 Note to self: Get an editor.
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// TAKE A NUMBER //
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Helen awoke to the sound of a whispered argument. She had no idea where she was, and only a murky idea of where she had been. But wherever she was, it felt safe, which was a big improvement. Much to her regret, she was alert in an instant. It would have been nice to spend some time in a groggy haze.
It was night, and the stars shone above, so close that she wanted to reach out and dip a hand in the Milky Way. She lay on something soft and comfortable, in front of a small campfire. She sat up and found William and The Queen with her, locked in a quiet but impassioned argument.
They stopped. Both looked at her with relief. "How do you feel?" William asked. Helen opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was William, sitting across the campfire from her, with his William face, speaking in his William voice with his William mouth, and how could she answer that? She threw off the covers and rushed to him, embracing him, burying her face in his chest.
"Better now," came her muffled voice. He embraced her gingerly, patting her head. She held him tighter, and she fought back tears as the truth sank in. Whatever she had hoped this moment would be, it wouldn't be. William hadn't been missing her the way she had been missing him, didn't want her in his life the way she wanted him. She had been warned, and she had even fooled herself into thinking she was listening.
Finally she broke away, feeling small a
nd foolish. When she finally stepped back and looked at William, he looked guilt-stricken. "It's okay," she lied. "You don't need to explain." Another lie.
The Queen was livid, but composed. "No, it is not," she said. "William, we can understand your cruelty toward us, but this little one has caused you no offense."
"We don't need to discuss this now," he said.
"Indeed," she sneered. "Surely it can wait until you've truly damaged the poor creature."
Helen wanted to stop the fighting, but couldn't bring herself to utter a word.
None of this is your fault, The Queen consoled her. Be still.
Did I ruin a chance for peace? Helen asked her. It was the other question that had been weighing on her mind.
The Queen smiled at her. You saw the army that vile thing was bringing to enforce its peace. We have heard its entreaties already. They are sincere, but the terms are not acceptable. It would force us to choose between slavery and death. You did right to hack its face off.
William watched the silent conversation without comment. He had that kicked puppy look that he would get when he was fearing her wrath. "What were the terms of the peace?" she asked The Queen aloud. She didn't want him thinking that they were talking about him.
The Queen seemed to understand. "Humanity would be quarantined, fed, and sheltered comfortably until the end of their natural lives. They wouldn't be allowed to reproduce, of course."
Helen snickered. "Wolf really thinks it can take on all humankind and win?" The Queen and William gave each other a no-you-tell-her look. Whatever game of mental paper-rock-scissors they played, William lost. "He -- I mean 'it' -- may be bluffing. But we don't think it is. It seems to be putting pieces in play for a full-scale takeover."
"Given the nature of the pieces," The Queen added, "It will not be a clean one. Wolf runs the military supply chain from raw materials to finished product, almost unaided. It's also a vital component in manufacturing, food production, transportation, communication. There were supposed to be safeguards in place, firewalls to keep the pieces independent. But they were relaxed for the sake of 'efficiency.'"
The Improbable Rise of Singularity Girl Page 32