by JM Guillen
Affirmative, Alpha. As she spoke, a small green indicator appeared on one side of the overlay. In this direction. Your choice of route is appropriate.
Bishop will take point again. We are falling back. We will follow him, fighting as we go. Wyatt will be at our six. If the spikes don’t seem to offset the mental connections, then dial up a temperature alteration of a couple hundred degrees centigrade. That should buy us a few moments.
Reasonable enough. Wyatt grinned.
Rachel will load whichever viral mecha she thinks is most expendable, and she can be on offense as well.
I nodded at the idea. Rachel’s interfaced nanojector, the stinger, certainly had offensive capabilities. While she had the option of using pressurized fluid to inject viral mecha without needles, the stinger on her forearm could also fire needles equipped with the mecha. I had always thought the practice made the Caduceus resemble an outlandish comic-book heroine, but it was quite effective.
The mecha created a distinct, horrifying reaction when introduced to an organic system that did not possess a Crown.
I don’t really consider any of the mecha expendable. Rachel frowned. We don’t know how long we will be here.
Then be careful. Gideon looked to the Drażeri starting to circle toward us. Any questions?
There weren’t. Behind him, I could see several figures advancing on us again. Wyatt turned toward the advancing Drażeri and keyed up his specifications.
WHUF. WHUF.
“Be careful, Bishop.” Rachel gave me a sideways grin. “Try not to rouse any more of them if you can help it.”
“I’ll watch for natives.” I waved to her and Anya as I trotted forward, taking point. Almost absentmindedly, I fumbled in my jacket pocket until I found some of the injectables Rachel had given me.
Be careful, Michael. Anya linked to me only. If you encounter hostiles, you should consider regrouping.
I will, Anya. I hoped she felt reassured by my grin. Thanks.
With fresh viral mecha, pure speed and grace coursed through my veins. I set out into the darkened streets, sticking as close to the shadows as I could. I heard Wyatt firing the rest of his spikes but tuned it out. If I was needed, my cadre would hail me.
They had my back; I needed to watch our front.
Not until I was well and away from the group did Anya’s link strike me as odd. She hadn’t consulted our Alpha or asked him for guidance. Instead, she had encouraged me to return if I found trouble.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Preceptor was worried about me.
9
The next forty minutes were harrowing to say the least.
Now, I had shifted from ignoring the locals to maintaining full stealth. I drifted through the streets, moving from shadow to shadow, keeping to the alleyways when I could.
It was a nightmare.
Every step had become a tension-racked catastrophe waiting to happen.
The windows concerned me most. I knew one of the Drażeri could very possibly have already seen me slinking along beneath the wan light of their nausea-inducing moon. Perhaps I was surrounded already.
I slipped down bent paths and sloping streets, the shadows my only refuge. At times, the avenues abruptly shifted into tunnels or ended in small stone courtyards. That same dark yet reflective stone with swirling colors covered every building. Rather than a town it felt like I was slipping through a garden of great, obsidian towers with not a door to be seen. At times, I wondered if the city itself was actually one gigantic building with too many of the rooms opened to the mad sky.
The entire time, the marker Anya had placed for me pulsed softly, guiding my way.
In all the time we had been here, the moon had not moved. The stars overhead continued on their mad course, but as far as the moon was concerned, not a moment had passed. Nor did it seem any darker than twilight.
From what I could hear in the distance and the few links Gideon sent, it seemed as if our extraction hadn’t gone as smoothly as he had hoped. For all the ease I had ghosting alone through the eerie streets, the Vyriim whose host we had killed was apparently unwilling to simply let us slip away.
My cadre was quite loud in their rebuttal to the situation.
From what I could follow, the Vyriim stalked us without the help of Drażeri slaves. Instead it writhed through the streets, little more than a knot of appendages swimming through the air like a demonic squid.
That was better than being mobbed by dozens of the Drażeri, I supposed. Yet I found it difficult to guess what was happening. After all, if one Vyriim knew we were here, then didn’t they all know? Why wasn’t the entire city swarming down on us?
We just didn’t have such answers.
The rest of my cadre held their own. Wyatt had placed spikes to muddle the connection between the Vyriim and their thralls, which created more than a little confusion. Also Anya had helped him come up with the specifications to bend the sickly light of this place, and so he was also able to create small islands where they could hide, unseen by all.
I couldn’t wait to hear stories about what a hero he was after all this was over.
In comparison, my job was simple, if nerve wracking. There was no way that my party would be able to slip through the city as easily as I could alone, so my job as point man became invaluable. I sent short links regarding my route and encounters with the natives and stayed out of sight as best as I could. More than once, I wished I had an opportunity to gear the Wraith before coming on this particular field trip.
So I clung to the shadows as I slipped through passages and enclosures, hiding more than once as some Drażeri ambled by. If they were aware that only a half kilometer away there were four aliens bending reality against their masters, they made no sign of it. Carefully, I drifted through the darkened, narrow abyss between the steep buildings, finally switching on my Crown’s optics in response to the pitch darkness.
Then I saw the doors.
It took me a moment to realize what they were. Each one was approximately the size of a door, it was true. But rather than wood or some lightweight material, they were constructed of heavy iron plates, two of them, one on top of the other. Each had a round hinge on one corner, and a metallic bar crossed each plate diagonally, holding them together.
A stamped symbol, written in a swirling script, glowed a silvery blue in its center.
The first time I saw one of the Drażeri gently touch one of the metal plates, I was mesmerized. Both plates gracefully rotated sideways, slipping toward the center before folding away to the right, revealing the opening. I was a little stunned by the simple construction, allowing even a child to move the heavy metal plates.
I was sorely tempted to try the doors but knew better than to indulge my curiosity except as an emergency measure. What if the door was somehow also infused with psionic bonds? What if I opened a door that led straight into a room of Vyriim?
No thank you. I slipped forward.
Once, after stepping from a tunnel, I passed an out-and-out brawl between a few Drażeri. The figures tore into each other, fighting it out with a lethal intensity.
I found the discord strange, raising questions about the nature of the Drażeri. After all, weren’t they all part of the Vyriim consciousness? What was there to fight about?
Not my problem, I decided. Instead, I took advantage of the spectacle and slipped beneath an awning, sneaking along next to a stark, obsidian building. Wreathed in shadows, I slipped past the fight and watched with fascination as I went.
Michael, you are less than forty-five meters from the waypoint. Anya’s tone was strictly informative. Recall that the waypoint is not the anomaly. You are simply to await us there.
I remember. I peered out into the street. Two more Drażeri had thrown into the fistfight, and one poor sot became noticeably outnumbered. I wondered idly how such things were handled. After all, it seemed as if the Drażeri did not use psionic hammers of pain to attack one another.
I bring it up bec
ause we will be approaching far more quickly than standard point protocols. Gideon wished me to inform you that we are being pursued.
Wonderful. I grimaced.
Wyatt’s algorithms have successfully kept the Drażeri at bay. Most of them are befuddled by their disconnection from the Vyriim. However, the creature itself continues stalking us through the streets.
What can I do, Anya? Part of me always hated that I often served as point guard, meaning that when my cadre got in deep, I was typically helpless to assist.
Gideon has asked me to alter the waypoint in your system. As she spoke, the blue marker faded and a green indicator appeared far off to the left of the earlier point. This is the anomaly. It is approximately one hundred meters from your current location. You are to proceed there and make certain the location is secure before we arrive.
I heard a lot in what Anya didn’t say. Knowing Gideon my entire career, his tactics seldom changed. We would always rendezvous at a waypoint and then approach an unknown objective in strength.
The only possibility that made sense was that we were on the run. Gideon didn’t think we had time to approach the anomaly with caution.
Anya, tell me everyone is fine.
For now. There are, however, more than one Vyriim seeking us. Their tendency to separate strands and rejoin into individuals makes it difficult to determine how many there are. She paused. But we are safe for now.
I cursed beneath my breath. This was far from optimal. I truly didn’t want to careen into Anya’s anomaly all on my lonesome; after all I couldn’t even read anything about it on my gear!
Still, I understood what Gideon wanted. They were in trouble, and we needed a safe house. I was to secure the location. Gideon hoped that I could clear the area and then they could use Wyatt’s spikes to keep us hidden.
It was the only possibility that made sense.
Copy that, Anya. Keep me apprised. With that, I slipped forward into the eternal twilight.
Of course, we had been well trained in dealing with different topias, whether they were stable worlds such as this one or fractures from Rationality. Still, I sometimes found it difficult to not get swept away in the sheer alien nature of this city. Not the odd fungus gardens that reached for me nor the sky that constantly tilted out of kilter—in some ways those things were simple to deal with once the wonder had waned—no the sheer normality of life made things seem so surreal.
I passed some Drażeri children, all bare-chested whether male or female, as they played a game on the cobblestones where they tossed a stone into a circle. They didn’t see me as I slipped between the shadows of an alleyway, but after a fashion, their game could have been a scene from home.
However, as I watched, they all became completely still, as if they suddenly heard the call of a parent that I couldn’t hear. Then they began to look around, seeking something.
I had a fair idea of what they were looking for.
As the children stepped toward me, I realized that I was in a bit of a bind. More Drażeri were behind me, those adults engaged in the fistfight. I didn’t want to step back that direction, but at the same time, I didn’t want the children finding me with their wide, obsidian eyes.
I had the distinct impression that the minds of the children were gone. An alien intelligence controlled those eyes, seeking me and my kind.
Frantically I glanced around, setting my sights on one of those odd, iron doorways. I needed only a moment to make my choice. After all, if I stood here, I was made for sure.
I touched the side of the door, half-expecting some psionic reaction. Instead, the door slid open soundlessly.
Quickly, I stepped through, peering behind myself to see if I had been noticed. The children walked right past me, looking into the street with eyes that seemed very far away.
These were nothing like normal children, I had to remember. I needed to move carefully.
If I was seen just once, then this was over. I had been lucky enough to have my cadre in the wings the last time I got caught.
This time, my companions already had their hands full.
The small chamber I entered had a stairwell that descended through the floor. One wall had a small alcove where several candles burned on a small table, as if it were an altar. All along the left hand wall, etchings in the dark stone depicted a Drażeri raising his arms to the sky with joy.
As he did, dark alien tendrils burrowed into his chest.
Spotting an archway set into the far wall, I adjusted the gatekeeper on my back and stepped through it, returning to one of the crooked, narrow alleyways. No door? Odd. For now, however, I was thankful.
As I strode quietly along the cobbles, I froze at a chirping sound above my head.
Slowly, I looked upward.
There, looking down on me from a ledge, was a small bundle of fur. It reminded me of an elongated otter with three pairs of legs, but its rough, golden coat was shaggy and thick. It stood on two legs and looked down on me with golden, owlish eyes.
“I hope you aren’t a squealer.” I froze for a moment, half expecting the animal to sprout tendrils or spit acid in my eyes.
Instead, it chirruped at me, lost interest, and turned away.
I crept down the street, passing another two doors. My new waypoint was just across the courtyard. I hid against the wall and peered around.
“Fuck,” I swore under my breath.
Of course, this couldn’t be easy. The pair of natives milling outside my waypoint could only have been soldiers.
Soldiers posted right in our path.
Between them and me, a pool in the center of the plaza burbled with the same green, brackish liquid that flowed in that first fountain I’d seen here. The pool itself looked to be marble, and a young woman lay along the lip of its basin, trailing her fingers through its murk. Around her, spaced almost randomly were small stone monuments, each with that same, gently glowing script upon them. Their shapes reminded me of grave markers, but that seemed wrong.
Several buildings squatted to my left, one of which was lit in brilliant yellow. The light actually streamed from windows. Though only partially transparent, I could see several figures moving inside.
Waypoint One was across the plaza in a two-story building constructed entirely of that black stone. I located no door, but an archway led to the interior. In the dim light, I thought I could make out a stairwell, but that was impossible to say for certain.
The soldiers strolled in from the far side of the courtyard, Drażeri in sweeping black coats with silver accents. Both had long, black, braided hair and wore belts with small devices that I guessed weren’t simple adornment. Strapped on their backs were rods that looked to be pure iron.
One of them held a thick chain, on the end of which was a true horror.
Sparse black hair covered the creature in odd patches, alternating with naked, pink flesh. It had small, pinched eyes and a mouth that looked more like the mandible of some monstrous beetle. Its six legs were squat; the hindmost four bent backward and ended in bony tips. It made a huff as it sprung forward, seeming eager.
I could hear the clicking of its horrifying mouth from here before it stopped to taste the air with a thin, undulating tongue.
My eyes went wide, and I gripped my pistols tightly.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to link.
We all square on your end, Bishop? Gideon’s voice sounded distracted.
I’m looking at a Drażeri patrol, Alpha. I don’t know what mischief you are up to over there, but they’ve called out the guard.
I’m pulling images from your Crown, Bishop. That way we can see the intel. Rachel sounded rushed. You’ll feel it.
I did. The smallest icy pinch alerted me when the Caduceus did her job.
Fuck, Hoss. Wyatt’s link was laced with disgust. Then he linked privately. How many of your girlfriends are we going to run into today?
Fuck off. I sent that one privately as well but couldn’t help my grin.
Wyatt always
made me laugh.
We are approximately five minutes behind you, Bishop. Gideon felt frustrated; I could almost see him furrowing his brow. How far are you from Waypoint One?
It’s right across the courtyard. I spent the resources to send them an overlay of my route. I’m less than twenty meters. It’s just that Rover and friends are in between.
I watched as the grotesque creature tasted at the air again. Its Drażeri handler jerked on the chain, obviously not realizing that the creature might actually be detecting something.
Namely, me.
Bishop, we are in trouble over here. Gideon’s link was terse, but I knew his frustration wasn’t meant for me. When we broke the link between the Drażeri and the Vyriim, we apparently kicked the hornet’s nest. There are at least three of the aberrations hunting us now, perhaps more.
I’m keeping us under cover, Hoss, but the problem is I can’t do it forever. It takes constant calibration to alter the light because its frequency is continuously changing.
So you’re hidden, but you can’t move. I furrowed my brow. That meant I was against a wall here. If I got into trouble, they couldn’t be my cavalry this time.
Right. If Wyatt stops his calibrations, we’ll be visible. We could try to make a run for it, but we need to know that the area we are running to is secure.
This location is not secure. I frowned. Perhaps I can slip around the courtyard, take some side streets and work my way there.
Only you know if that would be appropriate. I could tell Gideon was uncertain. Looking at the intel you’ve patched, I would guess that if you route around, it might make our route longer as well.
That’s not a good thing, Hoss. Wyatt actually sounded serious for once. Every time we make a run for it, we’re risking being seen. Then, we have to find a secure place so I can key us up some safety. I could almost hear him sigh. It’s risky. I have to get it right every time, and the Vyriim only have to be lucky once.
There is more. Anya poked into the link. Wyatt is burning through his reserves, as bending light is quite costly. We can’t do this much longer.
What can I do, Alpha? I watched the squat horror scrabble forward again. This time, one of its handlers seemed to note that it had a scent.