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

by JM Guillen

  “Ah.” I held up one finger. “But that aperture jettisoned them out somewhere around Mach one-fifty and was aimed downward.”

  “Into the astral tides?” Wyatt’s chuckled fiendishly.

  “Right.” I nodded. “I don’t know if those boys will ever get out of the gloaming.”

  “Well, that’s not a problem we’re going to have to deal with.” Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m ready to break through to Rationality, if you folks want to go home.”

  “These two are out.” Rachel’s voice held cautious excitement. “But I think I can speak for them both. Let’s go home.”

  “Copy that.” Wyatt grinned at Anya. “Don’t worry, princess. We’ll be back in a nice, Rational space soon.”

  “I trust in your capabilities.” Anya nodded, not even seeming to notice Wyatt’s gentle jibe.

  “Good deal.” Wyatt winked at me. “We’re going in.”

  I nodded, exhausted.

  Again, everything we knew faded as the world became a broken, screaming blur of unnamed colors. Space warbled around us. It all happened in an instant, but that instant stretched infinitely thin. I held on, clenching my teeth against the sensation.

  As suddenly as it began, it was over.

  “Hoss…?” Wyatt’s ecstatic voice filled with reverence and wild happiness.

  “Yes!” My grin broke wild and wide. “Oh, fuck yes!” I turned to Anya, noting that her eyes looked a touch wet.

  Earth!

  From our vantage, we could see most of the Americas and a good chunk of the Atlantic. We were quite high up, but in that moment, I didn’t care.

  It was easily the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  I felt my Crown whir as it synced with the Lattice. My primary comm activated as we touched the Lattice, and the feeling was pure heaven. The Designate’s link felt like a river of frozen steel in my battered mind.

  I require confirmation and access code check in.

  I grinned at Wyatt and gave him a thumbs up. Hello, Designate. This is Asset 108, Bishop, Michael. I’m home!

  Greetings, Michael. The Designate responded immediately. We are pleased to have you back.

  Pleased to be back, Designate.

  The realmship lurched to a stop, and the control panel hissed. A thin wisp of smoke wound from its surface. Wyatt tapped on his keyboard, a confused look in his eye slowly shifting to alarm. He glanced up at me.

  Controls are frozen, Hoss. He tapped the keyboard again, with increasing frustration. Thing won’t respond.

  You got us home! I couldn’t stop grinning. Who cares?

  Are we falling? Anya’s link felt so natural, so much more familiar than her spoken voice. We appear to be falling.

  Rachel stepped up to the front, confusion on her face.

  Wyatt struggled with the controls and then sent a shared link.

  Designate, the craft we are in is malfunctioning. Frustration creased his brow. We are no longer operational and are in free fall. He tapped a couple of keys. Current trajectory shows projected crash site to be in the Gulf of Mexico.

  Received. After a long pause, I felt my Crown click. One moment, please.

  “I hope it’s not too long.” I teased, speaking out loud.

  “The Drażeri did this.” Wyatt swore. “One final fuck you. The system is geared to melt down.”

  “Fuckers.” I pushed myself to a more upright position, noticing once again how agony shot through me with every movement.

  Here. Rachel’s link sounded only slightly petulant. I guess I shouldn’t let you suffer forever.

  Instantly, sweet relief melted like caramel through my body.

  Thanks. I put a hand on her arm. I am sorry, you know. I wasn’t trying to make things harder.

  You never are. She sighed.

  Holotecture indicates that Asset 108 has a soft sync on a Gatekeeper packet. The Designate linked us all. We have clearance on a Conduit link, which we can initiate in two minutes.

  Two minutes? Wyatt paused as he did some math. “Well, we won’t have hit by then.”

  Affirmative. The Designate remained ever calm. Standby for coordinates.

  Designate, note that Asset 108 is far from system green. Rachel paused. Recent injuries may have involved the soft sync and the Crown augment.

  Acknowledged, 135. Adjustments will be made.

  “I’d better wake up our passengers.” Rachel stepped to the back of the craft.

  The next two minutes seemed to stretch into hours as we watched the earth loom closer and closer. After the first minute, the realmship began to tremble, and after the second we lost one of the fins, likely the one the Drażeri had damaged. The craft had begun to heat in the atmosphere.

  Conduit cleared. 108, are you prepared?

  To be honest, I didn’t feel prepared. The last time I had fired the Gatekeeper, it had left me feeling like I had put my brain in a blender.

  Still, I had no choice.

  Affirmative, Designate. I gave a small shrug. Initiating on your mark.

  I made certain the Gatekeeper engaged at its default settings and then centered an aperture in the middle of our craft, near Gideon and Sparks. I nodded to Rachel, implying she should standby, ready to help her charges through.

  Now, 108.

  And then I squeezed to ignite the aperture, which would automatically link to the conduit.

  It fucking hurt.

  “OW! OW, OW, OW!” I clenched my fist and eyes, shifting away from the others as if to shield them from my pain. Even with Rachel’s mecha, I trembled.

  This could not be good: it felt like I was shredding a muscle that had already been injured, but this was my mind.

  “I’ll see to you on the other side, Michael,” Rachel assured me.

  It’s open? I relaxed enough to see. It’s open!

  She steadied a stumbling Gideon, who did not look well.

  His eyes met mine, but I couldn’t tell if he recognized me or not.

  As she helped him through, I could literally feel the weight of the two of them. Just for a moment, I was carrying them, only I was doing it with a broken back.

  Anya helped Sparks to his feet, but she could hardly support him. Wyatt stepped back to help her, and together they got him upright.

  “I can’t possibly thank you.” His voice sounded bleary, but he smiled. “Never thought I’d make it, you know.”

  “We haven’t made it yet.” Wyatt pulled him along. “Come on, before we land in the Atlantic.” Wyatt nodded at me as he passed.

  See you soon, Hoss.

  I nodded back.

  Again, I grimaced in pain as they passed through. Something burst in my sinuses, a brief stab of pain, and then blood gushed from my nose.

  Once they were through, it was my turn. I took one last look at the dawning ocean from the trembling skiff before stepping into the conduit.

  It was over.

  The moment I stepped through, I felt white light flash in my mind. That cool, soft sensation was the most comforting thing imaginable.

  Michael Bishop, Asset 108. Welcome to Facility Prime.

  28

  I lost consciousness the moment I felt the prompt from Facility Prime.

  My locale made for a lucky break. Facility Prime, the center of our best and brightest, housed technological marvels that made the rest of our miracles look almost commonplace.

  Caduceus-class Assets including Rachel immediately rushed me to Asset Emergency Services. A good thing, as I apparently collapsed the moment I stepped through the Conduit, bleeding, twitching, and mumbling something about those fucking tentacle monsters.

  It was likely best that I didn’t remember it.

  In the end, I had not one but two intracranial aneurysms, as well as other minor cerebrovascular incidents. The soft sync had become badly misaligned during the incident in the Maelstrom, which had led to system-wide cascading failures through my holotecture.

  Making matters worse, the Crown used the relays from the secondary
comm when attempting to mitigate total failure. Of course, Rachel had burnt out our secondary comms while we were neck deep in otherworldly horror, so that was impossible.

  Therefore, as I had sat with Wyatt on the realmship, shooting the shit about who had saved whom from Drażeri harriers, I had already suffered severe processor deficiencies, but didn’t have the system analytics online to know it.

  Rachel had frantically tried to stop my Crown from cycling into shutdown, which meant there was no mecha available for pain management. As I chatted the day away, she was saving my life.

  I guess she hadn’t just been bitchy.

  AES kept me unconscious for almost two weeks. Much of my neural interface had to be rebuilt from scratch, and I had suffered enough damage to the nerve plexus along my cervical vertebrae that the Facility decided I needed entirely new axial implants.

  When I awoke, Anya sat by my side.

  “Hey.” I blinked, glancing around the sterile room.

  Brilliant white and silver implements lined one side of my bed. One of them was shaped like a column of silver that stretched almost to the ceiling and had blue lights all along one side. It encased the hard port connections to the back of my shaved head.

  “Hello, Michael.” Anya gave a tiny, nervous smile that lasted for less than a second. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better.” I grinned, pleased to see her. “Although I suspect I’m still enjoying some painkillers.”

  “I cannot say if you are enjoying them.” She looked at a screen over my head. “But several dozen Type I mecha circulate within your system currently. I’m certain they are moderating your pain processes.”

  “Anya.” I struggled a little but sat up. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be…” I trailed off, realizing I had no idea of what Anya did while I was in torpor. The Preceptors, after all, didn’t have downtime like I did.

  “I requested that Asset Gardener inform me when you were to have your system rebooted.” Again, she glanced at the screen but then met my eyes. “I simply wanted to know you were well.”

  “Is she still mad at me?” I grimaced. Rachel could hold a bit of a grudge.

  “She was displeased with your choices, but she is not angry.” Anya paused. “If it is any comfort, you did the only thing that could have stopped the Drażeri.”

  She was midway through speaking when I realized something that should have been obvious.

  “You aren’t linking.” I gave her a speculative look while I tentatively felt into my Crown.

  “Your Crown will be fully interfaced in another twenty-four hours. It’s best if we speak until then.”

  I nodded. “Gideon?” I trusted she would know what I meant.

  “Asset Du’Marque and Asset Sparks are both expected to recover fully.” She paused. “Your injuries proved worse than either of theirs.”

  “I’ll have to remember to rub that in.” I chuckled. I glanced down at her, realizing she placed her weight equally on both legs.

  “My knees are also in operating order.” She smiled, seeming in anticipation of a joke.

  My mouth twisted wryly but I couldn’t think of anything that might amuse her. “When can I expect to be debriefed?”

  For a moment then, Anya glanced away, almost seeming uncertain of herself. When she looked back, however, she firmly met my eyes.

  “None of our cadre was debriefed, Michael. Instead, we went through synaptic replication.”

  “They scraped our Crowns?” The process always sounded a bit macabre to me. “Why?”

  Anya shrugged. “We were sent on a mission to recapture a lost Asset and ended up adrift in a foreign topia. We likely brought back more data on Aberration 45171-R than had ever been collected before.” She paused and it seemed like there was something a touch off about her tone. “I imagine that the Facility wanted to be absolutely certain to peruse every piece of the phaneric record.”

  It made sense, honestly. Still, it was always a little unnerving when it happened. The Designates had the capability to literally review every sensation recorded by the Crown, but typically they did not. Instead, we were debriefed and then the portions of a dossier that were deemed important were stored.

  Synaptic replication always felt a little like an invasion of privacy.

  Anya changed the subject. “There have been no recorded instances of incursion by 45171-R since we have returned.”

  “Yeah?” I sat a little more upright. “We lowly Assets aren’t usually abreast of deep telemetry. Is this a change?”

  Anya nodded. “In the time since you were taken, we had regular incursions. Not always military in nature, just reports of activity. We were tracking them all over the globe. Now…?” She shrugged, her words trailing off.

  “They’re gone.” I finished for her. “Seems a bit easy.”

  “Official telemetric procedures haven’t adjusted. 45171-R is still a high priority requiring vigilance. It is simply that there haven’t been any reports.” She paused. “In light of Asset 081’s packet, the possibility is being considered that only one faction of the Vyriim was responsible for our recent troubles.”

  It was possible, sure. If the faction that had taken me was the only one responsible for the incursions, then perhaps we had put a stop to that.

  But it didn’t feel right.

  I couldn’t get my head around the idea of factions within the Vyriim. I had felt their Unity, after all.

  Yet the Vyriim had backed off for now.

  I remembered Crowe’s invasion warnings and couldn’t help but shudder.

  While there is little that we can say for certain, we do have one vital piece of intel. Aberration 45171-R intends on full occupation before September 18, 2015…

  The Vyriim planned for the long haul according to Crowe. I couldn’t imagine that this one encounter had so profoundly changed their schemes.

  We would see them again.

  “I promised Asset Gardener that I wouldn’t keep you long, Michael.” Anya took a breath. “I simply wanted to check on you myself.”

  “I appreciate it, Anya.” I smiled at her. “Always good to see a friendly face.”

  “You should be placed in torpor quite soon.” She turned to leave. “I’m certain we’ll be on assignment again before you know it.”

  “Of course. Perhaps next time we can stay inside Rationality for a change?”

  “I’ll put in a request.” The barest hint of a smile touched the edge of her mouth.

  “Excellent.” I feigned a stern mien. “And as always, Preceptor Petrova, we wish you well in the days ahead.”

  She shook her head as she left.

  I believed she was smiling.

  29

  The first two options were right out.

  I knew that Wyatt was excited to meet up and hang out, but it just wasn’t a night for The Boobie Bungalow. Also, even though he claimed that it was just a name, Barely Illegal seemed a little unsavory for my taste.

  I just wanted a quiet night. I really felt like I’d been through the wringer lately and needed to let off a little steam. In the end, we settled on meeting at a little Mexican dive bar and restaurant on the south side of town, Wholly Frijoles.

  The moment I walked in, I thought this place might have been a mistake as well. It was much more of a dive bar than a restaurant, and when I opened the door, cigarette smoke wafted into my face. I coughed, fanning my hand in front of me,

  Gross.

  “Well, would you look at this asshole right here?” Wyatt stood up from his barstool, crushing me in a bear hug. Both his eyes were already bleary from drink. “God, Hoss, feels like I haven’t seen you since, what, June?”

  “Been busy. You know how it is.” I sat next to him and waved to the bartender.

  “Somethin’ to drink?” The man wasn’t Hispanic but had a rough look about him, all scowl and iron-corded muscle. He would have been right at home in some shit-hole bar in Tijuana.

  Or California, as it happened.


  “I’ll have tequila.” I pointed at the bottle I wanted, and the man nodded.

  “Yeah. I know how it is.” Wyatt jeered as he looked up at the television. “You been busy with that Italian chick. Fuck. I’d be busy too.”

  “Caprice?” I nodded to the bartender as he brought me my glass. “Haven’t seen her in a while.” I took a sip and grimaced. “She was kind of a freak, if I’m honest.”

  “Really?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Not with this chick you wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “Couldn’t argue with her. She had a bullshit way of getting inside a guy. She liked to fuck around with what you thought.”

  “Ah. Well. ” Wyatt nodded his head sagely. “She was too pretty to be sane.”

  “Is Bishop hooking up with crazy again?” The voice came from behind us.

  I grinned widely before I even turned around.

  “Gideon! What the fuck are you doing here?” I stood, giving the man a bear hug of my own. “It’s been…what?”

  “Almost a year. I’ve been out of the country.” He smirked at me and then signaled the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” He glanced to me. “What about you? Can I hook you up with a Corona?”

  “No. I think I’ll stick with what I’m used to.” I held up my glass. “More my style.”

  “As you like.” Gideon slid onto a barstool and looked to Wyatt. “So? Bishop is hooking up with irrational chicks?”

  “As usual.” Wyatt held up four fingers and ticked them off. “He meets them out of the blue. He has a whirlwind adventure with them. He goes to the ends of the universe for them.” He ticked off the last finger and then shot me a glare. “Then things somehow don’t work out.”

  “Fuck you.” I looked to Gideon. “What have you been up to?”

  “Went on a tour of the South Pacific. Most exciting bit was renting a skiff and getting stabbed in the chest.” Gideon grinned at us. “Sting ray. I was snorkeling and apparently I was swimming threateningly. Thought I was going to die from the venom alone; man that hurt. The doc dug a nine-inch barb outta my side.”

  “Better than Bishop getting dumped by crazy Italian chicks.” Wyatt muttered.