by JM Guillen
“I think we’re in this, Alpha.” Wyatt looked around the table. “Meet the principal contact. Give the password, which Crowe kindly included. Make the deal. Storm the castle. Then go home.”
“Gideon, I usually make it a practice not to agree with inbred illiterates, but I think that’s the best plan.”
It will be dangerous, Michael. Anya’s link arrived to me alone, her blue eyes probing on me.
Well, yeah. I gave her a small smile. No matter what we do.
I— She paused, as if not knowing what to say. I never had an opportunity to tell you how pleased I was to find you safe.
Thank you. My smile broadened. As you can guess, I’m pleased too. Then, a thought occurred to me. She was suddenly telling me this for a reason. Oh, Anya. You think if we do this, you might not have another chance?
Unknown. She shrugged, almost too nonchalantly. I would simply regret it if I never got to tell you. You are a good friend, Michael Bishop.
I watched Anya, and she held my gaze for a long moment.
Very soon, I suspected, we would all have regrets.
17
I crept down the dark lane, every step wary. Someone had likely noticed the patrol I had eliminated by now. Surely, they had been replaced with more soldiers.
But no, all seemed quiet. In fact this section of the city seemed deserted, almost abandoned. I hadn’t seen anyone. Given how much activity I’d seen yesterday, I had been expecting a little more… activity.
This silent emptiness grew unnerving.
Thanks to Crowe’s packet, I knew that I was traversing one of the four great roads of the city, the Terminus Omniik. It was vast, supposedly one of the busiest thoroughfares in the city.
Which now sat empty, raising my hackles.
This made absolutely no sense. Could Crowe’s intel be this faulty?
I perused the packet for a moment, making certain I knew where I was. Yes, from where I stood I could see the bent spires of the Grand Dirge and the Temple of First Laments pulsing in the distance. This was definitely the Terminus Omniik. Crowe’s notation was very specific as to its form and function.
The Terminus Omniik is one of the great roads of Dhire Lith. At any given time it is jammed with hundreds of Drażeri going about the business of their factions here.
Avoid.
“Not today, Rookie.” I muttered as I looked out on the abandoned road.
Directly to the functional south, Crowe’s intel showed a wide, desolate area. From here, I thought I could make it out, an area that the map listed as the Starkened Wastes.
The Drażeri were nothing if not dramatic with their names.
Of course I appreciated the bits and pieces of a map in my head, but I wished those parts joined into some coherent whole. For the moment, however, I was simply glad to know that our goal was within five minutes of our current location.
You about ready? I patched to Wyatt.
For the fortieth time, yes! Get off my case, Hoss. He scowled at me. I got the specifications all keyed in—
Bishop, I’m sending you ahead. Secure the area around this corner. As Gideon linked, a small blip of orange appeared in my vision, smeared along the cornerstone of a large basalt tower. Guthrie, is your spike prepared?
I grinned broadly at Wyatt.
He shook his head ruefully and stared straight ahead as we continued forward.
Yes, sir, he patched.
Still grinning, I trotted ahead of my companions. I breathed deeply, grateful that Rachel had numbed all my pain and set more mecha than I cared to count to ensure my lungs would pull adequate oxygen for whatever came my way.
“Lungs are always a weak point when it comes to rib breaks,” she’d muttered as she input the instructions to my viral mecha to build a temporary framework around my fractured ribs. “Easy entry for an infection.”
“Oh no.” I’d laughed a little at the idea of an infection laying an Asset low.
Rachel glanced up at me with an icy glare.
“Do you have any idea what sort of microorganisms or bacteria exist in this place?” she’d demanded.
“Um,” I started. “No?”
“Neither do I!” she’d snapped and went back to her tiny adjustments.
As a result, I jogged through an alien city that might or might not go on forever, doped to the gills on painkillers and reflex-enhancing viral mecha. Intent though she’d been, I appreciated Rachel’s insistence as I effortlessly glided from shadow to shadow.
Thanks to her, my status was functionally green, the day after my ribs had been severely broken.
Slowly, I crept through the streets, the gatekeeper poised at the ready. Ever alert for guards, I crept cautiously forward, peering into the malevolent twilight.
Ready to unleash a devastating menace, I greeted the nothing around the designated corner.
Clear, I linked to my compatriots, both the two with me and those ladies watching the game at home on their Facility-installed personal screens.
Wyatt came around the corner, tangler at the ready. Gideon moved close behind, his cobalt eyes stern.
WHUF. WHUF. WHUF. Wyatt shot three spikes in a tight triangle without hesitation.
In an instant the metal lances had incandesced to nigh unbearable levels. I turned my head so they were only in my peripheral as they began to flutter, the light flashing on and off faster and faster until they were strobes, pulsing bright white light up into the sky.
I turned to Wyatt. “Am I expecting a rave?”
He grinned. “I could’a used these about a month back at a little place called—”
I held up a hand, forestalling his adventure. “I really don’t want to know.”
He shrugged and grinned. “Your loss, Hoss. It was a good one.”
The spikes emitted a sound, an undulating wail, as soft as a bird’s cry, that soared in tone until all I could hear was a piercing shriek that speared straight through my brain.
I covered my ears and winced until the still rising pitch became too high for me to perceive.
I stood and cautiously uncovered my ears, then glared at Wyatt.
“It’s not going to do that again, is it?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “That’s it.”
Now we move, Gideon ordered. Let’s get to that meeting spot before we’re late, gentlemen.
We ducked through a nearby archway and trotted down the deserted alleyway ghosted by darkling rainbows. I took point, the gatekeeper bow at the ready. I wasn’t about to be taken unprepared again.
I missed my disruptors.
I’d asked Rachel if she could sync them up back at the substation. With down time and no stress from people trying to kill us, I figured it was worth a shot.
She spent an hour talking with Anya about the specifics of it and came back with a flat no on her lips.
When I asked why, she said, “Bishop, I already have a headache just trying to comprehend the technicalities of the soft sync of the Gatekeeper while keeping your entire brain in your head.” She paused. “Trying to tell you the reasoning Anya and I worked out would make my head explode. The answer’s no.”
So I was stuck with the gatekeeper.
At least it fires sharp metal bits, I consoled myself. To be fair, I did see why an Asset would prefer this packet over some of the others. In fact, I—
A growling huff followed by a tinkling sound interrupted my thoughts. My head jerked up as bristly hair and patchy flesh trotted around the corner.
Oh, fuck.
Rover.
The guard beast of the Drażeri soldiers, complete with its chain-leash, stood in the middle of the alleyway. Its long, thin tongue flicked the air. It whipped its head to face me, and all six stubby legs stiffened. It flexed its mandibles and huffed again.
With grim amusement I realized that it remembered me.
I shot it in the face before it could charge. I remembered it too. Specifically how its pincered mouth felt around my ankle.
Quick as thought, I set two ape
rtures. I already had this little stunt worked out ahead of time, so when I saw Rover, I was ready.
Its mandibles clacked madly, and it leaped forward, propelled by its twisted, bony hind legs. The beast scrabbled toward me faster than I would have believed, the chain bouncing along behind it like a metallic tail. It was almost to me when I kicked in the Gatekeeper, and it disappeared.
Where? Wyatt’s confusion drenched his link.
Up, I sent back. I couldn’t help but grin; I was pleased with this little setup.
I tilted my head to take in the sight of the nightmare perpetually falling through the air. I had set the two apertures ten meters apart, and the abomination was wildly splaying between them, falling for eternity.
That’s evil. Wyatt gave me a lazy smile. I like it.
How long do you think I should leave it there?
Bishop. Gideon’s tone felt stern. We’ve got someplace to be.
Sir, I acknowledged and shifted the pitch of the top aperture. Just a subtle rotation, and it hurled the thing half a block away. Even from here, we could hear when the shrieking beast hit the ground in a spray of guts and blood.
Gideon glared at me, eyes stern.
What? I didn’t want to drop it right here, did I?
Our Alpha walked away from us, shaking his head.
Aw, man. Wyatt’s link held laughter and disdain. I should have known you left loose ends.
Shut it. I eyed him as I brushed my fingers across my suit jacket.
Lettin’ that damn thing roam around? That was just lazy, Hoss. He snickered as he passed me. And now you left it in the street. I’d’a put that mess up on a roof at least.
Maybe I should have dropped it in your bed. I linked to his back.
You boys coming or are you planning on renting yourselves a cozy little room? Gideon paused. We got work to do.
“Yeah, Wyatt.” I pushed past the bear of a man and followed Gideon.
Ten minutes later, we arrived at the rendezvous, a column-lined patio with wide, warped paving stones. Just the slightest pressure on these gave a soft chiming tone, the purpose of which I could not imagine. Small, almost stony growths were scattered about, squat, dense spirals of thorn that threatened my toes even through my shoes. I wouldn’t want to kick one by accident, that was certain.
Overhead loomed a basalt tower with yellow flame burning atop it, screaming its brilliance to the twilight sky.
“Well,” Wyatt glanced around after we waited several minutes. “We’re in the right place.”
Apparently, we needn’t have rushed. Gideon frowned. Our potential ally clearly had plans to arrive fashionably late.
Or unfashionably overdue, I linked, noting that my Crown’s clock showed almost eight minutes had drifted by since our arrival. I turned to Gideon who had long since started pacing.
You don’t think—I cut myself off abruptly. Do you hear that?
An off, tapping sound, the rap of metal against stone, came rapidly but in an odd cadence that echoed through the twilight.
Closer. Clink… clink, clink, clink… clink, clink.
Wyatt looked at me, his brow furrowed. His hands drifted to the keyboard hanging at his side.
Axiomatic telemetry is typical for ambient readings, gentlemen. Anya’s link responded to our concerns.
Copy that, Anya. Gideon’s link felt distracted.
Clink, clink… Clink, clink, clink…
What is—? I turned to Gideon.
He shook his head as he listened.
I readied the gatekeeper. Wyatt had said that the quarrels would sink into anything I fired them into, but I hoped I wasn’t about to test that theory.
Wyatt and Gideon stood to either side of me, facing the metallic tapping. It came faster now, ringing through the piazza, majestically announcing its presence.
In the distance, a dark shape bobbled. I watched its gentle rise and fall as it drew closer, growing larger, broader. As it neared, I was able to make out more of its shape. Tall, broad, and distinctly inhuman, it grew larger and larger as I watched. Subtle flashes of golden light radiated out from a large body that was supported by manifold strands of quicksilver movement.
“Oh.” Wyatt didn’t even bother to link. “Would you look at that.”
One slender leg stretched into the light, a silvery fibril no thicker than a gun barrel. It rapped the distorted pave stone and a clink sounded, resonating out, filling the night. A second shaft joined it, and then a third. More and more of the silvery limbs touched the stones. Where they touched, those soft, chiming tones echoed from the rock, a voiceless song that rose up to blossom around the silvery steed of Crowe’s principal ally.
The vision of her took my breath away.
She rode a silver and amber creation like nothing I’d ever seen. The myriad silver legs under the contraption obviously supported it in some manner not immediately apparent to me, for not one of the ten limbs so much as touched the main body. The frame of the chassis was an aerodynamic sweep of amber and onyx that would have made the toughest of bikers weep with envy. It floated serenely in the air while burnished amber segments partially hid luminous, amethystine components underneath.
I stared at that artist’s blending of insect and machine until movement beside it brought my attention back to business.
Two male Drażeri stood to either side of the steed. Neither wore a shirt, though sashes and bandoliers decorated both chests. Their pants were made of some light material that constantly billowed in the nonexistent wind. Each held a long stave of twisted onyx that gave off soft, amber light at various points.
At once, they pivoted to face the conveyance and dropped to one knee, heads bent, one arm each outstretched to frame the Drażeri woman atop the fantastic creation.
I think we have Crowe’s principal contact. Gideon did not so much as glance away from her.
A vision in blue and white, she sat atop her mount like a young, radiant queen. When she dismounted, the gracefulness of her movements astonished me. She glided as if she were dancing underwater.
She stood in front of her chrome and onyx steed with a bodyguard to either side of her and gazed at us for a long moment. Her face was beautiful, with large, dark eyes, and long white hair that flowed down her rippling azure skin to cover her bare left breast.
Expecting silent words of promise fulfilled,
Sure footing lost, our trust must be rebuilt.
The words fell as gentle murmur in my mind, accompanied by flitting images. I watched as she related her meeting with Crowe and Sparks, and the partnership they created.
Then, the two Assets faded, and the Drażeri woman was left confused and more than slightly betrayed.
Shit! Wyatt linked, his wonder bleeding through. Is that how they all talk?
I think. I shrugged. So far, at least.
Gideon stepped forward a single pace. I am Gideon Du’Marque, a colleague of Jonathan Crowe, whom you treated with previously. My cadre and I have come in his place. How may we address you?
The woman continued to stare at him with those wide, obsidian eyes that the Drażeri race seemed to share.
Gideon cleared his throat and flexed his lips in a close parody of a smile. “I am Gideon Du’Marque, a colleague of Jonathan Crowe, whom you treated with previously. I and my cadre have come in his place. How may we address you?”
Odd, they can’t get links, Wyatt commented. It’s like telepathy, right?
Seems that way, I agreed. Maybe because it’s from tech?
Wyatt merely shrugged one shoulder.
Words are ever wind, yet, you surely speak as he.
Make your troth then, give forth the key.
The images were more solid this time, a rough caricature of Crowe holding something against his heart. He passed it to Gideon as we watched, before fading away.
She wants the password, I expect, Wyatt linked.
Right. Together then, Gideon instructed. Think of the realmship, the night sky of ho—
I have
n’t directly seen the skiff, sir, I interrupted sheepishly. Only in the packet.
Gideon gave me a sideways glance. Fine. His tone said it was anything but. There are three images. Wyatt, think of the realmship. Bishop. He speared me with a gimlet eye. Think hard on the night sky at home. I’ve got the last image, a single Vyriim.
He gets all the best images, I groused mockingly to Wyatt alone.
Hoss, I suspect he gave you the night sky ’cause he figgered you couldn’t screw it up.
Jackass, I patched with a grin.
Moments later, the woman in front of us relaxed, her haughty demeanor eased. The tiniest smile lit the edge of her mouth, a grim, determined thing.
The battle begins, wrought in fire by stalwart three,
The bargain holds twixt you and me.
I saw a flock of birds soaring at great speed, razored beaks and gleaming claws at the ready as they dove on unsuspecting prey. As she sent the images, her sharp smile grew.
She meant for us to go now. As in, right now.
Um, we aren’t ready for battle! It was close to instinct to link after receiving the Drażeri’s images.
She does seem a might antsy, doesn’t she? Wyatt’s link sounded wary. Especially for a woman that won’t even tell us her own name.
I’ll address that too, Gideon assured us as he watched the woman reach into a pack at the back of her sleek transport.
“We are grateful that you are so eager to treat with us,” he began. “We had hopes that you would be as willing to help us as you were Crowe.”
The Drażeri turned back to face us, cradling a crystalline container in her blue-rippled hands.
Stone compact, firmly writ in blood and deed,
Remains intact, yet requires all true speed.
I was dizzy with the rush of mental wind she sent our way. Something was happening, something we weren’t aware of. Images of soldiers brushed my mind, soldiers that were marching on my home.
My home? No. Hers. Her people were under some kind of assault even as we spoke.
Oh!
She fully expected that our signal implied we were ready to act immediately.