by JM Guillen
I grinned ruefully. That’s exactly the kind of thing Anya would do. Most Assets would rely on the Lattice for instant information. Anya, however, had been burned before. She would be determined to not get caught flat-footed twice.
Rachel, can you pull up an image from the phaneric node of my Crown? I honestly didn’t know what the Caduceus was capable of without the Lattice. If not, I can port the data.
No need for that. Rachel’s link felt amused. I’ve got it here.
Target classified. Anya linked once she had the data. We call them the Drażeri, but it’s uncertain if that is their actual name. They are Irrational Species 638-1 and are a servitor race for the Vyriim.
Servitor race? Wyatt interjected. The whole damn race is infected?
As far as we can tell... Anya paused as if checking telemetry readings before continuing. only select members of their high caste are chosen as hosts, though the others are capable of being mentally coerced.
That confirms it; we’re in an enemy topia. I could feel the depth of Gideon’s concern. I wonder why she didn’t raise an alarm over Bishop.
Well, I am very handsome. I grinned rakishly, knowing they could all feel it over the comm. When only crickets responded, I sent again. She didn’t seem to be on any kind of lookout for anything unusual. I paused. Perhaps it’s not uncommon for outworlders to visit.
Copy that, Bishop. Gideon was getting ready to sign off. Be careful either way, and alert us if anything changes—
The Drażeri are noted to have a very specific Irrational capability, Michael, Anya interrupted before Gideon closed the link. They are reported to use an extra-sensory means of communication and may be capable of psychomanipulation.
Aren’t the Vyriim already psionically active? Wyatt drifted into the conversation, and I sensed his frown.
It’s possible that’s partially why the Drażeri are such an excellent choice as a servitor race, Wyatt. Anya felt distant, and I knew she was accessing data as she linked. Either way, Michael, all relevant data lists them as a considerable threat.
I thought back to the shy, blue-skinned girl with one breast showing. She didn’t seem like a threat.
Understood, Anya. I paused. Thanks.
I crept forward, trying not to worry about the psionic servitor race. I had been lucky; that was all. If she had seen me, she would have absolutely known I didn’t belong. After all, I was still wearing the suit jacket that Caprice had dressed me in, which would very likely not fit in with whatever fashion they were wearing here in Squiggly City.
Less than five minutes later by my Crown, which could be in error, I stumbled across my second encounter with the locals.
I heard the faint trill of music, sourceless and haunting. Slowly, I crept forward, but then the sound stopped as suddenly as it began.
I suspect locals in my vicinity. I stepped down an alleyway, more of a crevice between two of the slab-like buildings. As I ghosted along, turning sideways and removing the gatekeeper at one point so that I could fit, I noticed that the buildings were unnaturally cool.
I can hear music nearby, but I can’t see anyone.
Understood, Bishop. We are advancing behind you. Anya has you on her telemetry.
The passage curved around on itself with three different, small bends, each one angling slightly downward. As I crept down the darkened corridor, I heard the music start again, a haunting, light melody that seemed as if it was carried on the wind. The sound stopped before the causeway opened up onto what appeared to be an old-world plaza.
There I saw two men as they stood between odd statuary, comprised of incredibly tall, emaciated figures. The statues were alabaster with elongated, double-jointed limbs and alien, bulbous heads.
Then, one of the men reached for a statue, moving it almost a meter. His friend gestured at him, and he moved it again.
They appeared to be menial workmen on an everyday job, yet the twisted sky overhead with its sickly looking moon made things all the more surreal.
The man moving the statue had the same blue tint to his skin as the woman I’d seen, but he wore no shirt. I could see the brands on his skin slowly shifting colors.
Then his friend cast a glance at me, looking straight at where I crouched in the shadows. He didn’t seem in anyway alarmed by what he saw.
I decided I should switch on my comm again.
So it seems that no one cares that we’re here.
You. No one cares that you are here. Wyatt sent to just me. He grinned through his link.
What’s happened, Bishop? Gideon’s link was serious but not stern.
Quickly, I went over my encounters with these new locals, describing how they had absolutely no outward concern that an alien wearing Brooks Brothers lurked through their shadowy streets.
You might as well just stroll after me for all they care. You don’t even have to try to be subtle. I’m actually concerned that sneaking around might draw more attention. I’m walking in the open, and no one cares.
Moving openly might be helpful. Gideon seemed thoughtful. You may have been correct earlier. Not all topias are as paranoid as we are about holding baseline axioms. They may be quite accustomed to having visitors.
Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to proceed in full view. I paused. I’m concerned attempts at stealth might just make me stick out.
That’s reasonable. If you can move openly, it will cut our transit time. We have an idea on where we should go, but it’s a good hour’s walk.
Oh yes? I nodded at a young couple who sat on the edge of a fountain. They paid me no heed as he gave her a kiss on the neck.
If it weren’t for the dizzying sky, they could be a couple almost anywhere.
It’s the anomaly I found, Michael. Anya’s link came clear and succinct. We’re not certain of the cause, but it is definitely something we need more data on.
How so? It was just fluctuations in gravity, right?
They’re fluctuations in gravity that only a Preceptor could pick up, Hoss.
OK. I was confused. I don’t see how a gravitational fluctuations of a few centigrams makes a difference.
The amount of fluctuations isn’t an issue. Anya’s tone remained patient. In fact, it’s possibly best that they’re so small. It could be that they were designed to remain hidden, so tiny changes were optimal.
So they were built on purpose in a way only a Preceptor could sense them? But they’re somewhere in an alien city, on a world so distant that a Preceptor was unlikely to ever find them. I frowned. I still don’t get it.
It’s not the fluctuation, Bishop. Gideon had a no-nonsense feel to his link, and I could imagine his furrowed brow. It’s the pattern they’re happening in. He paused. It’s Morse code of all things.
Morse code? This continued to get stranger and stranger. Do we even know how to decipher it without the Lattice?
That one’s easy, Hoss. Wyatt’s link felt almost weary.
It’s an S.O.S. Rachel sounded worried. An emergency beacon, which could only have been created by an Asset.
I blinked at that. The idea was ludicrous. The number of missing Assets was ridiculously low. The idea that someone had gone missing and ended up here, of all places…
Except, I myself had been adrift. The entire situation had only happened because I had been taken. A chill trickled down my spine.
I hadn’t been the first. Someone else had been taken from the Facility, but it hadn’t been realized. Who knew how long the Vyriim had controlled them or what the aberrations had already learned about us?
The S.O.S is priority one. Perhaps we can find a safe zone along the way. Or perhaps it is located somewhere secure. Gideon paused. Just the thought of someone else being here is intriguing.
I assume you’ve tried linking? I queried. All channels?
Affirmative, Bishop. No response.
As I mused, I felt someone’s gaze on me, like cold fingers down my back. I turned and spotted a small garden. I hadn’t noticed it before, seclude
d between two of those monolithic buildings and surrounded by a small wall. Fungi the size of trees filled the garden, with long tendrils hanging down like the branches of a writhing willow tree. They swayed gently even though there was no wind.
I was being watched.
I couldn’t say how I knew, but I knew it to be true. I peered into the darkness between the pale stalks within the garden. Then I saw her.
Another woman, standing by herself, glared at me intently, almost angrily.
The sensation was positively unnerving. She simply stood and glared, her eyes dark and fierce.
Some are wanderers, ever out of place
They skulk and hide a-feared to show their face.
Casually, I turned away from her, ducking down a small, dim alleyway. I cast one glance over my shoulder, but the woman was gone.
We are going to expend the resources to give you a marker, Bishop. Gideon’s tone told me that the expenditure concerned him, but he felt it was needed. Make for these coordinates, which are close to the anomaly. We will meet you there, and then we will approach the anomaly together.
A dim blue token appeared in my vision, angled in the direction that Anya would have called functional west.
Understood, Alpha.
As I linked, I glanced upward at a man in a window. He stared at me quite intently, his face partially lit by some wan light within his room.
His lips moved, as if whispering a soft chant.
As I watched, the light in the room went dark. However I could still feel the man’s eyes on me, like a physical thing crawling over my skin.
I needed to get moving. I didn’t know what had changed, but suddenly I felt exposed.
In fact, I needed to even the board.
Reaching into a pocket, I pulled out one of the small injectors Rachel had given me. I couldn’t make out the markings in the dark, so I held it in my hand as I crept forward, looking for some light.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to run. I glanced back toward the window but saw nothing. Even so, I broke into a jog, mindful of the uneven cobblestones.
Your vitals are escalating, Bishop. Rachel’s link was only for me. Do you have anything to report?
I might have been made by the locals. Uncertain. Will apprise.
Copy that. You’re on my primary interface.
That made me feel a little more secure. Rachel had every detail about me on her systems and was watching over my every breath, even the cadence of my heart.
It made me feel less alone.
The passage zigged to the left and opened into a street. The sullen moon hung overhead, glowing down with a silent fury. The cobblestones were still mismatched and crooked, and the occasional rambling color drifted across the surface of the stone monoliths.
But then there were the figures, silent and stark.
There, several of them had all gathered into a circle. They stood completely still, like dead things. Their shadows shifted, bent and drifting around them in an unnatural manner. Their mouths moved in unison, although I didn’t hear any of the odd, poetic words.
Trying to avoid detection, I put my back to the unforgiving stone of one of the buildings and slowly crept by. If any of them saw me, they made no motion or indication of any kind.
Then they began to sway, gently in unison, and I heard that otherworldly music again, even though none of them had an instrument of any kind.
Were they singing? I just didn’t know. The sound was soft and warbled.
Eldritch.
I glanced at the injectable I held. It was labeled for agility and reflexes, as Rachel had promised. Pleased but grim, I stabbed the small device into my leg and immediately felt the mecha sing in my blood.
Keeping my eyes on the circle of Drażeri, I turned down another street, backing slowly away. I gave the new street only the barest inspection.
My every nerve stood on edge.
Breathe, Bishop. I could hear wary concern in Rachel’s link. You’re no good to us if you have a heart attack.
Copy that, Caduceus.
I couldn’t say why I was suddenly so nervous, but it was deep, instinctual, like a rodent ghosted by the shadow of a hawk.
Something was wrong. I felt completely naked with only the disruptors at my side. Hell, I would have felt better if I had the Gatekeeper packet installed, even if I’d never used the thing.
I ducked into what appeared at first to be a darkened tunnel, casting a final glance at the small group who continued their eldritch song. As I stepped into the tunnel, rivulets of alien hues burst through the stone, as if my presence was a gust of wind that stoked the colors. Several small passages branched off the tunnel, and I wondered if they led into the monolithic buildings.
After all, I had seen windows but no doors. The structures were bleak and dark, jutting into the twilight sky, but I had no idea how the inhabitants passed within.
Then the tunnel opened, and I again treaded beneath the open sky. I was so busy considering the construction of the labyrinthine city that I hadn’t noticed the park on my left side. I might not have detected it all if it weren’t for a dim, flickering light shining between a few of those odd, fungal willows. It caught in the corner of my eye, and I spun, then panicked, and froze.
I am reading a slight Irrationality at your location, Michael. It’s only a few points below baseline, but it’s stable.
Copy, Anya. I linked automatically. I could feel strange shadows capering behind my mind, whispering secrets I could not grasp.
Four Drażeri stood on the far side of a small fire, dressed in voluminous robes. Tools of silver and brass hung at their belt, and the swirling brands on their skin were a sickly olive green. One of them held what I could only describe as a censor, an iron device hanging from a chain that was attached to a long rod. Dull-red smoke poured from the device, smelling like cinnamon and saffron.
They stared hatefully at me. The emotion seemed nearly palpable, as if they sought to boil my blood with their expressions.
I felt grateful for the flickering little fire between us, that same oddly yellow flame I’d seen on the basalt towers. It capered in a recessed pit. Without its light, I never would have seen them.
One of them took several steps forward until I could see his face in the wan light. His face resembled that of the woman I had seen with the tiny nose and those curved, verdant brands. When he stepped into the light, however, I could see that there was only darkness in his eyes.
Beneath the skin of his face, cable-like tendrils writhed. They were smaller than my pinky finger, but it was positively grotesque seeing them wriggle beneath his flesh.
Then, the male spoke:
Clever then, the far walker, shadow caught
Alone, drifting in places he ought not.
Just like the woman, he spoke—my eyes traced the movement of his lips—yet again the words held no sound. Instead the thoughts arrived as soft poetry and stark images that slammed into my mind: a blade, carving through my neck; the man’s fingers, digging into my eyes; the sensation of being disemboweled. Violent, bloody things.
My heart pounded as they cut into me.
I’ve encountered hostiles, Alpha.
I reached for my disruptors as the men advanced toward me.
The closest one reached into his flowing vestment and pulled out two small, silver blades. They had a wicked curve to them and glinted in the firelight.
I adjusted my back, shifting the gatekeeper. It wouldn’t do to have the bow shift loose if this was about to get nasty.
What is your status, Bishop? I feel the concern in Rachel’s link.
“Stay back.” I held a disruptor in each hand, stretched toward them. I toggled up the force of the weapons, turning the knobs up four notches with my thumbs. The weapons sang with a quiet hum. “I will fire.”
I actually didn’t want to. The Drażeri hadn’t done anything threatening. Also, it was foolish to start a conflict without my cadre present. Who knew how many hostiles were around
me, watching from these buildings?
It was a bad idea.
Bishop? That was Gideon. We are en route. What is your status?
Poor. Engaging hostiles.
One of the men had taken a step closer, and I aimed and fired in one swift motion.
The kinetic disruptor only jerked a bit in my hand, but it was if I had struck the man in the stomach with a speeding truck. He was thrown backward over three meters and crumpled to the ground.
There was no poetry this time, only images. I was nailed to a great tree with spikes through my shoulders and chest. My abdomen had been sliced open, and there were lean, weasel-like animals eating my entrails. I could feel it, as certainly as if it were happening.
I bit back a scream.
One of the men spoke then, still whispering words too quiet for me to hear:
The lone, uncanny eye slips through the night
On distant shores, the wanderer shall fall.
Michael, I’m reading wide fluctuations at your location. Anya had a trace of concern in her tone, which set me on edge.
The images came again.
This time, they were starker, more elemental: ruby fire, scarlet agony, and crimson blood. They brought a catastrophic pain to the back of my head, and the entire world blossomed with bursting agony.
I cried out and stumbled forward as I tried to aim my disruptors.
The pain bit again, fiercer this time, deeper. It took every bit of my will to remain upright.
Bishop, I need your status! Rachel’s link bordered on panic.
But I couldn’t respond. I scarcely remembered she existed. The entire world and every memory I had were excruciatingly crimson.
Crimson.
The world was suffused with cinnamon and saffron and the torment that only the damned can know.
8
I have no idea how long I lay on the ground writhing. The pain seared like flaming shards of glass in my joints, and I could do nothing but tremble from it, eyes clenched.
—initiating now. I gasped as I heard the tail end of Rachel’s link. I had no idea what she had said or what she had done, but I felt sweet coolness wash through my body. It washed away the agony, and I almost cried out from the sudden relief.