The Primary Protocol: A Cyberpunk Espionage Tale of Eldritch Horror (The Dossiers of Asset 108 Book 2)

by JM Guillen

Copy that, Alpha.

  I’m on your six, Bishop. Gideon appeared behind me, having stepped through the fiery gate. The blades on his arm sang with golden fury as he geared up the Seraph packet he had equipped. Even reflected from behind me, the painfully bright light blinded me for a moment.

  “I’m afraid this isn’t working out, Caprice.” Intent on winning our battle, I gave her a grim glare as I pulled against the alien tendrils. “But don’t worry. It’s definitely you.”

  “Fool.” The word gurgled, inhuman. “You do not understand what you stand against.”

  I wasn’t as much of a distraction as I had hoped. As Gideon stepped forward, she lashed at him with her three free tentacles and raised the Beretta.

  Obviously whatever intel the Vyriim had gained against the Facility, the abominations were ignorant of the specs of the rare Seraph packet.

  Otherwise, Caprice would have known she was about to die.

  Engaging. Gideon’s link came by rote, habit when using the Seraph near another Asset.

  Copy. I pulled right, away from him.

  Gideon lunged forward as the tentacles reached for him, and his blades positively burned with golden radiance. He quickly struck downward, moving faster than the eye could track, and the blades burned against the midsection of one of the tentacles holding me.

  The tentacle cracked loudly, like shattering ceramic.

  Moments later, a section of the living tissue simply crumbled into fine ash, and the severed end dropped squirming to the floor.

  I could feel the creature’s bellowing cry, a psychic echo that burned in my mind. As the abomination roared in rage and agony, I pulled backward, grimacing as the hooked tentacle pulled free from my flesh. I brought my gun to bear on Caprice.

  My shot wasn’t needed.

  The blade that came with the Seraph wasn’t truly a sword, not in the traditional sense. It wasn’t intended to simply cut physically. It sliced the subatomic bonds that held matter together, oxidizing away the electrons and leaving nothing but ruin.

  While the creature wailed in shock, Gideon stepped forward. He buried his blades in Caprice’s stomach.

  She screamed as the loud cracking noise came again.

  A large portion of her lower abdomen simply crumbled into dust. The tentacles sprouting from her body twitched as she fell, flailing wildly.

  “Freeze!” One of her allies ran at us, two of the Vyriim tendrils tearing loose from his face. He aimed his pistol squarely at Gideon’s face.

  “Freeze?” Wyatt’s voice came as a quiet drawl from behind us. “That’s cute.”

  WHUF.

  His spike buried itself about a meter behind the man and immediately blossomed into a silvery half-sphere. I had seen this trick before; Wyatt was keen on stasis fields.

  The man froze within it. I couldn’t see him anymore but knew that he could neither move nor think. As far as he was concerned, time just came to an abrupt stop.

  The field had trapped him like a fly in amber.

  I heard the barking of gunfire, but the stasis field formed an effective barrier between us and the men who were shooting. We were safe for the moment.

  You ready to go home, Hoss? Wyatt gave me a grin.

  Am I ever. I started to give him a sarcastic quip when I heard a loud screech, like the brakes of a runaway train.

  I remembered the rumbling. It was obvious now.

  Subway train. Possible incoming, Gideon’s link mused. He looked from Caprice to us. His blue eyes shone, as calculating as ever. Get Rachel and Anya through to us, Wyatt.

  Understood. He stepped back to the aperture, keeping everything clear so the other Assets in our cadre could join us.

  Meanwhile, I peered around Wyatt’s stasis field, pistol at the ready. The moment I poked my head around, one of the men fired. I ducked and heard the bullet ping off Wyatt’s field.

  Pinned down here. I knew Gideon could feel my concern through the link. We’ll need more fields.

  Copy that. Gideon nodded.

  The screech of the train’s brakes echoed throughout the station. Already, Wyatt had placed more spikes, readying for a second front on that side.

  We have some axiomatic slippage. Anya’s tone remained calm, but I could feel her tension through the link. We keep drifting toward negative two and then back.

  Source? Gideon peered around the stasis field just as I had, and gunfire answered him as well.

  I don’t— Anya’s link paused. In that space, even though there were no words, we could feel her anxiety, a sharp and bitter thing. We are subrational! Negative four—no, five! It’s dropping R point two five per second. No source available on telemetry. Searching...

  The train pulled into the station with a single car, old and dilapidated. Most of its windows had been broken, and rust pitted its metal. It creaked and groaned as it came to a halt, and I peered at it, ready for alien monstrosities.

  No abominations immediately leapt forth.

  Instead, a pulsing, hateful light radiated from a sphere that hung in the carriage of the car, floating there as if bound in space. It burned with an otherworldly savagery. The sickly glow that bled from the device made my eyes ache, and the light felt nauseating against my skin, like hot, rancid grease.

  “All is as it should be, Michael.” Caprice’s voice made a low, dying croak.

  I looked down at her, and she smiled.

  The pieces all fell together. This had never been about killing my cadre or even about escaping them. From moment one, the Vyriim had drawn us deeper into the tunnels and had held us in place.

  This was a trap, and I had been the bait.

  Wyatt, I am sending you some axiomatic specs. Anya’s link felt wild, frantic, a terrifying concept. If you place spikes in the following—

  A repugnant burst of the light crashed over us with a violet, hateful glow. It emitted horrific music created from dread and terror and the nightmares that one forgets.

  It hurt, like being ripped from my own skin.

  Systems are losing Lattice integrity! Rachel linked. Like someone digging their fingers between my skull and my brain, I could feel her fighting to boost the signal strength from within my Crown.

  With a final pulse of that putrid light, a sharp sensation sliced across my skin. I heard Anya physically cry out and Gideon curse. I closed my eyes against it.

  WHUF. WHUF. WHUF.

  Can’t get a—! Wyatt’s link cut off.

  Then the world was torn from us, and we were cast into a cold and empty space.

  It was the loneliest thing I had ever felt.

  6

  For a terrifying moment, I couldn’t see anything except roiling clouds of midnight hatred.

  I hadn’t been blinded—that would be something comprehensible. Instead, the world itself felt ripped away from me, as if there were simply nothing to see.

  I’m reading green on all cadre systems. Rachel’s secondary comm felt clunky in my mind, almost heavy when compared with a Lattice link. We’ve lost Lattice integrity, but cadre systems are green. Local axioms have almost no negative side effects.

  Copy that, Rachel. Gideon felt cautious through his link, wary. Anya, can you give us telemetry?

  In process, Alpha. She paused. We are supra-rational, at least one-fifty R. Baseline axioms are stable.

  As I processed the links, the world drifted back into view, as if someone slowly turned up the lights in my mind. I blinked, realizing I lay flat on my back with my head to one side.

  It was twilight. Though rather dim, I didn’t quite need my Crown’s optics.

  I heard the trickling of water.

  As I stared dumbly ahead, the first thing I noticed was the subway tram, sliced neatly in half. It sat on its track, which also abruptly terminated.

  “The fuck?” I pushed myself up, peering around in the dim light.

  Underfoot sprawled dusty, sandstone slabs alternating between shades of tan, yellow, and brown to form an intricate pattern. Around us stood several stone
pillars, each carved with fantastical scenes of heroes and monstrosities. Gideon leaned against one, and Anya used another to steady herself as she stood.

  She caught me looking at her, and I glanced away.

  We stood in an artistic courtyard containing several small, meticulous gardens and fountains that merrily burbled with a greenish liquid that seemed thicker than water. I imagined an outdoor courtyard in ancient Egypt or perhaps Babylonia might look this way, except for the half of an abandoned Detroit subway station lounging in the center of it.

  It was impossible not to gape.

  Sweet scents reminiscent of lavender and orchid suffused the entire garden, but the plants here were like nothing I had ever seen before. The ones closest to me had thick, fleshy stems with oddly triangular offshoots that slowly undulated. As I drew closer to their charred-black pots, they seemed to sense my presence and reached in my direction.

  I pulled back as I realized what they were doing and glanced at some of the other plants. They were all thick, meaty things, reminding me more of fungi than true plants. Some had brilliant red frills running the length of stalks that were twenty centimeters tall. One seemed designed to hold liquid, as it had several small extensions shaped like delicate cups.

  “Anybody else feel like they need a few shots?” Wyatt took a couple of clumsy steps toward me and grinned through his bushy beard as his head tilted toward the fountains. “The tangler can turn water to whiskey without too much hassle.”

  “Shut it, Wyatt.” Gideon grinned briefly and held his head as he leaned against one of the pillars. “Give me a moment before you and Bishop start jacking around.”

  Anya took a few graceful steps as I watched. I hadn’t seen her since she’d had her kneecap, shot in our last dossier.

  Glad to see you won’t be leaning on me for this mission. I grinned, knowing she could feel it over the comm.

  You had indicated it wasn’t any difficulty, Michael. I felt her frown. I didn’t mean to be a burden.

  I’m teasing, Anya. I sighed. I was worried about you, you know. I’ll always be happy to carry you.

  Why would you need to carry me? She looked at me as if I were genuinely insane. I wouldn’t have been sent if I wasn’t operative. She paused. Perhaps we shouldn’t use the comm, Michael. We need to preserve resources.

  “Fine.” I chuckled. It would take more time than I had to make Anya understand my friendly banter.

  Instead, I peered around the courtyard. There were nine different circular beds of odd plants and fountains, low inner walls supported tendrils of growing vines.

  It was quite beautiful, if a touch sparse. The stone wall around the courtyard stood quite high. On one side, a metal gate barred an opening in the wall, and a graceful archway beckoned from the other.

  Engulfed in the courtyard walls, I hadn’t really looked into the twilight sky.

  When I did, my eyes grew wide.

  “Oh—!” From horizon to horizon, all I saw was a cacophony of wild, angry stars that burned in a violet emptiness. The moon hung low, bloated and sickly, and its light scarcely illuminated the night. I shivered at the terrible beauty there, a vastness that seemed uncaring and hateful.

  At first, I thought I was dizzy, but then I realized—

  Those stars are moving.

  I was so startled that I used the secondary comm, even though Ayna was right, protocols warned that it should be held in reserve to keep from draining our resources.

  The stars weren’t drifting across the sky, as in a long-exposure film. Instead, each seemed to have its own path, moving slowly in accordance with its own desire. The sky rolled and heaved with the movement.

  “That’s…” Wyatt’s voice trailed off as he looked up, light gleaming on the blue oculus implant over his left eye.

  “Unnerving, to say the least.” Gideon stepped close to us, his eyes also on the weirdly mesmerizing sky. “Proof we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

  “That’s what I meant when I said almost no negative side effects.” Rachel stepped over to us, fiddling with an interface that fit snugly on her left arm. She looked at me and reached into the air to pinch at something I couldn’t see. As she slid her fingers to the left, my Crown whirred, and the readout on her equipment shone a bright blue.

  She watched her readout and moved her fingers further out, manipulating an interface I couldn’t see. My Crown whirred again.

  “There is something off about space and perception here. It’s not just you, Bishop.” She gave me a small, sweet smile. “They are moving. But they’re not.”

  “As long as I’m not mental.” I looked away from the sky, blinking.

  “No more than usual.” Wyatt muttered, walking over to me. He held out a hand. “Good to see you, Hoss. It’s been a while.”

  “Apparently.” I shook his hand and gave him a tight smile. Then, I gestured around us. “Looks like things are proceeding as usual.”

  “Yeah.” He snorted. “Just another day at the office.”

  “That’s actually quite accurate.” Anya stepped over to us, her fingers absently twitching before her as if she were playing a harp only she could see. Her ice-blue eyes remained distant. “The axiomatic weave here is snarled, just as we’ve encountered before.” She leveled a look at Gideon. “During Dossier I63-1998, we encountered a similar situation with an abandoned missile silo.”

  The similarities became obvious the moment Anya spoke.

  During that dossier we had been tasked with charting an abandoned government installation when we found our way into a warren of sub-topias. Eventually, however, we found that part of the original missile silo had been lifted from Rationality and deposited elsewhere, approximately two universes to the left.

  “This time we were inside the anomaly as it was created.” As I spoke, I remembered my thoughts of only a few moments before. To Gideon, I added, “It was a trap, Alpha. That’s why they didn’t actually attack. They were drawing the cadre in, using me as bait.”

  “Makes sense. They meant to gather more Assets for study, put us through whatever they’ve been doing with Bishop.” Gideon inspected the courtyard garden, his cobalt eyes wary. He ran his hand through his closely cropped hair, frowning. “It’s likely then that this is a Vyriim topia.”

  “Doesn’t make sense.” Wyatt spat on the ground, tinkering with the crescent-shaped keyboard interface that hung at his hip. “If they were waylaying us into some bear trap, then we’d be well and truly caught, not yapping about it.”

  “No.” Distant, Anya studied the space in front of her at data only she could see. “As the device was triggered, I sent you axiomatic statistics, Wyatt, to anchor Rationality. You actually got some of the spikes fired. I saw them on my interface.”

  “Well, yeah, but not all of them.” Wyatt cocked his head at her, but then comprehension dawned. “Yer saying the tangler affected their mathematicals.”

  “That tracks.” Gideon nodded. “They must have expected us to drift in somewhere else. Probably somewhere secure where they could ambush us.”

  That made for a sobering, chilling thought. Somewhere close, a chamber of Vyriim surprises waited for a few Assets to materialize. If Wyatt hadn’t fired his spikes…

  “We need to secure a safehouse.” Rachel’s voice was matter of fact. She glanced at me, and I felt a tingling in my Crown as she tapped her interface. “I’d like to get some in-depth readings on Bishop’s system, and it sounds as if I shouldn’t do that right here.”

  “Roger that.” Gideon nodded toward an archway on the far wall. “Establishing a safe zone should be our primary objective. From there, we can make plans.” He paused. “Let’s keep close. Anya, you focus on telemetry, and Rachel will watch cadre statistics. If Bishop takes point—”

  “Bishop has nothing except an empty Glock.” I frowned and tossed the weapon aside.

  “I think Guthrie has that covered.” Gideon gave me a wry smile as Wyatt, a bear of a man, reached into one of his small packs.

  �
�Almost forgot, Hoss.” He grinned. “Can’t have you being completely useless.” He held out a pair of my favored weapons—kinetic disruptors. He followed with their holsters.

  “You’re not as dumb as advertised.” My grin grew wide.

  Aside from a katana, I found nothing more satisfying than a couple of disruptors in hand. I turned the sleek black pistols on end, noting that the small, pressurized injectors were present and intact.

  I popped each blue injector out and used them. Both hissed as the specialized mecha flooded my bloodstream.

  However, the moment they hit my Crown, I heard the system catch. An odd whirring emitted from the front of my skull.

  “Sorry.” Rachel gave me a sheepish smile. “I suppose you can’t exactly send your system prompts to the Lattice out here.”

  “I’m not used to gearing up on crazy worlds where the sky is all bent. Think you can help a fella out?” I gave her my most charming grin.

  “Maybe.” She gave a small smile back and pushed the nut-brown hair from her face. “Let me see what I can queue up here.”

  I belted the holsters as I felt my Crown click, a subtle but satisfying feeling as she accessed my system. When the prompt came, it was a touch slower and more mechanical feeling than the prompts from the Lattice.

  Bishop, Michael, Asset 108. Do you wish to initiate weapon synchronization?

  “I do.” I spoke out loud and winked at Rachel. “Please synchronize both for item possession and neural link.” The guns would function without the mecha but became far more accurate when synced with my nervous system.

  Synchronization initiated. My Crown whirred in my head.

  “Take these.” Rachel reached into the white pack she wore and pulled out some injectables. “More type II stuff, strength, agility, and the like. They’re labeled. I can’t whip you up a white room or an Adept packet—”

  “Close enough.” I chortled, pleased that Rachel so thoroughly knew my preferences. “Thanks, Rach.”

  “It’s what I do.” She smiled back.

  “I suppose”—I peered at Anya, who was already reading local telemetry—“that if I needed any specific information on the axiomatic effects this place had on my weaponry, that I would be apprised.”