“What can you tell me then?” Rhylie asked. This game was getting old quickly.
“I can tell you that Riddai still demands the Extinction Decree be carried out on you as well. He believes that you are too dangerous to be allowed to exist, even in solitary confinement,” the Chamber responded.
“Riddai doesn’t believe you can keep me here?” Rhylie asked curiously.
“I do not know,” the Chamber replied. “None of my protocols are to monitor and analyze Riddai.”
“How does that make you feel?” Rhylie asked.
“I do not feel. I do not possess or understand emotions,” the Chamber said simply.
“That’s why the cat and Ryan and the children were so…weird,” Rhylie said. “You can’t fabricate emotion. At best, all you can do is emulate it.”
“This is true,” the Chamber said.
“What have you learned from studying me?” she asked, half expecting the answer.
“That protocol is classified. However, you are the most confusing subject I have ever analyzed,” the Chamber responded.
“Have you ever analyzed other humans?” she asked. The thought had never occurred to her before.
“That protocol is classified,” the Chamber said. Another question sprang immediately into her mind.
“Are you studying other humans now?” she asked.
“That protocol is classified,” the Chamber said.
“Of course it is. So you can’t actually lie to me,” Rhylie said. “You can only withhold information and protocols.”
“That protocol is classified,” said the Chamber. Rhylie rolled her eyes.
“Well this is pointless. What do you think I should do?” she asked. The Chamber froze. The walls flickered around her, tearing at angles for just a moment as though it were having difficulty processing her question. For a moment, she was afraid it was going to glitch again.
Finally, it answered.
“Exist,” the Chamber stated simply, as though it were just that.
14
Rhylie gradually grew accustomed to life within the Chamber after awhile, bit by bit, and eventually began using it to fabricate the places she had been, and the things she had seen. The world was always empty wherever she went, from the streets of Tokyo to the Mariner Valleys of Mars. Soon she began to realize she hadn’t visited as many places as she thought she had, so she began fabricating places she had never been.
Those environments always had a strange sort of surreal quality to them, as though she were walking through a dream. Objects would shift angles and size ever so slightly with every step she took, and the light would dance in different directions on occasion, as though it were being reflected and filtered through leaves. Sometimes things would take on a painted look, almost as if the world were being drawn by an impressionist, but that would only last for a few moments at the most.
She would develop a headache if she spent too much time somewhere she had never actually been before. Something as simple as turning down a corridor that she was unfamiliar with, even in an area she had visited many times, lead to things becoming distorted in gradients the further along she went. The Chamber had told her it was doing the best it could, but even it had its limitations, and apparently those limitations were her.
Places that were a distant memory from childhood had the same effect to an extent. Objects were bolder, and more pronounced, almost as if they were larger than life. They lacked the minute details of her other memories, and everything seemed to be made of plastic. But at least they did not distort.
Things that she had seen enough images of, she could fabricate faithfully, such as the surface of the moon, or the beaches of Hawaii. Places she had always wanted to visit, and had spent hours of her youth either simulating or watching movies about could be fabricated well enough. Today she lay on a tropical beach beneath the midday sun, alone in an otherwise beautiful and vibrant world.
A half-finished bottle of vodka sat in the sand beside her, and she had a pretty good buzz. She had taken up drinking recently, staying inebriated more and more often, after realizing the Chamber could fabricate anything she had consumed previously. She had never tried anything harder than alcohol, something she regretted now. The Chamber monitored her blood alcohol levels, and wouldn’t allow her to get as drunk as she really wanted to. Still, it was a way to relax and deal with her otherwise hopeless situation.
She raised her hand to shield her eyes so she could look out across the horizon. All that water and not a single fish, she thought. It was a depressing bit of knowledge. She picked up the bottle and uncapped it, taking a healthy swig. It was smooth going down, but burned when it hit the pit of her stomach. She replaced the cap and put the bottle back down on the immaculately white sand.
She stood up from her lounge chair and strolled lazily down to the ocean’s edge, wading out into the water, allowing its coolness to soothe and wash the sweaty heat from her body. She swam nude, enjoying the sensations of the currents caressing her. It wasn’t as if anyone could see her. She really didn’t care if they did anyway.
She crawled from the water soon after, preferring to lay at the edge of the surf as it washed over her legs and then her torso, fanning her hair out around her in the sand. It had grown longer since she had been in the Chamber, longer than she liked it. She wondered idly if the Chamber could cut hair. It probably could. She pushed herself up from the sand and surf, and began stumbling up the beach towards a stand of palm trees. For just a bare moment, she thought she could see someone watching her from beyond the treeline. She squinted, swaying a little as she peered beyond the trees. The ground shifted unsteadily beneath her feet.
“I must be drunker than I thought,” she said aloud, and realized it was too quiet. Even the wind had ceased, and the lapping of the surf as well. “Chamber, what’s my blood alcohol content?” There was no response. She staggered forward, the ground beneath her grabbing and sucking at her feet like mud. She had thought she was just really buzzed, but something wasn’t right.
She tried to take another step and pitched forward instead, her hands sinking into the sand. As she struggled to pull them free, her legs began to sink deeper as well. The beach around her began pulsing in subtle waves, as though it were part of the ocean. It felt as though she were trapped in wet cement.
“Chamber, this is not funny,” she said. “Make it stop.” There was still no response. The sand began sucking at her legs, pulling and dragging her down as she struggled in a futile attempt to escape its grasp. She closed her eyes and focused, imagining her parents compartment on Mars.
When she reopened them, she was horrified.
She was still on the beach, but the beautiful blue sky was quickly fading into a bland, lifeless gray. The luxury resorts that lined the beach were crumbling into a fine dust; the towering mountains behind them were collapsing inwards, as though they were all consuming themselves.
Everything was happening soundlessly, the only noise in the entire world was Rhylie screaming for the Chamber’s help as she was sucked beneath the pristine white sand, grit and saltwater filling her mouth as they slurred together. She choked and panicked, expelling the breath from her lungs. Sand and seawater filled her nostrils and clogged her throat as she struggled against the suction pulling her downward into darkness.
And then she was falling.
She hit the ground hard in the darkness, knocking the breath from her lungs. She lay on the floor as her body writhed and twisted with pain, struggling to breathe. When she finally took her first breath, she screamed for help.
But there was no answer in the darkness.
Rhylie crawled across the floor blindly, shaking and nauseous. She was cold and trembling as she fumbled about, trying to locate anything near her. She had no idea where she was. She found a smooth metal wall and used it for support, climbing unsteadily to her feet. The darkness throbbed and swelled as her head swam, disoriented, aching. Something was very wrong.
“Chamber, sa
y something,” she said uncertainly. There was still no response. She began to feel her way down the wall until she came to a corner. She followed that wall to another corner. She was in a small, square room, little more than a large box.
She slumped to the ground in the corner, tears welling in her eyes. What kind of cruel joke were they playing on her now?
Repeatedly she begged the Chamber to respond, but there was no response. The door swirled open, and a bright, blinding light flooded the Chamber. She shielded her eyes reflexively. It made her eyes hurt, and her head swam under the visual assault.
“I’m here to save you,” the dark silhouette in the door said in its strangely digitized voice. She recognized it. It was the assassin again.
“No no no no no nononono,” she said. “I won’t go, I won’t.” The silhouette took a step towards her, his hand outstretched.
“If you want to be free, you have to come with me now,” he said. “Otherwise I am not coming back for you, ever. You will die here, alone and old and forgotten.”
“This is just another trick,” she said. “If I go with you she’ll punish me.” She tried peering between her fingers at the silhouette, but the light was too much for her to take.
“No, if you come with me, you will be beyond her reach,” the figure said, reaching for her. She tried to pull away but she had nowhere to go.
“This is just another one of their sick fabrications,” she hissed. The figure reached out and grabbed her wrist, placing a silvery band around it. He pulled a small, triangular black device from somewhere and pressed it to her throat. The collar around her neck fell to the floor.
“If it is, then what do you really have to lose?” the figure asked as he laid a finger on the bracelet. It turned green before vanishing. Rhylie vanished with it.
“What are you doing?” she squealed, struggling against his grip, but he was too strong for her. He touched a band on his own wrist and he vanished as well.
“I am cloaking us so we can escape, now come,” he said, as he pulled her to her feet. He was strong, but gentle. “These bracelets are designed specifically to counter the Siirocian Security Network, but we still need to get out of here as quickly as possible.” He allowed her to stand on her own, but she fell forward on her knees.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. Her arms and legs didn’t want to work right. Her hands and feet were tingly.
“You have Chamber sickness,” the figure said. “You have been in here for far too much time, nearly 30 microcycles now. I’m going to have to carry you.” He picked her up in his strong, comfortable arms, cradling her as he carried her through the Chamber door.
15
Within moments, the corridors were swarming with armed Siirocian guards. Her assassin-turned-rescuer slipped into a corner, continuing to cradle her in his arms. Rhylie’s vision was improving by increments, but it made her head ache to keep them open for too long. She could see dozens of guards flooding the corridors, looking everywhere for them, and shut her eyes again. Her rescuer placed her on the floor and knelt beside her, remaining motionless.
“We’re trapped,” he whispered. Rhylie opened one eye to look in his direction. Maybe it’ll only hurt half as much, she thought. She could only see a light, shimmering outline where the voice had come from. “We need support now,” he continued. “Why can’t you?” It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to someone else on some sort of com device. She closed her eye as the dry pain began to pulse between her temples once again.
“So you’re basically telling me that we’re on our own,” he finally said in a begrudging tone. After that he didn’t say anything again for awhile. The frenetic pace of activity around them eventually subsided as they waited for what seemed like an eternity in the corner.
When the corridor finally cleared somewhat, the figure picked her up again, and continued to work his way through the maze of hallways as silently as possible, avoiding the guards. Occasionally he had to set her down and crouch when the activity in an area picked up. Some places seemed to be more crowded than others, and they were now sweeping the areas with sticks, poking in the corners with them, searching for something they couldn’t see.
“They know we’re here,” he whispered in her ear. “But they don’t know where. We’re almost out.” Rhylie simply nodded her head in response. “Once we’re outside, there will be a ship waiting for us.”
The figure picked her up again and carried her through another series of tubular corridors. Her vision was still slightly blurred, and shadows seemed to shift across the walls. She was having trouble making out details, and trying to focus just gave her a dull headache. She kept her eyes closed as much as she could, and rested her head against his chest as he carried her. She probably could have fallen asleep like that if he had let her.
“Can you walk yet?” he asked after they slipped through a door as it swirled open to allow guards to pass through. For the first time in a long time, Rhylie felt a brush of real wind on her face. She shivered, naked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I don’t think I can.” Her rescuer set her down on her feet, keeping his arm around her for support.
“We can move faster like this,” he said, supporting her as he headed down the street. It was full of Siirocians. Not a single other race was present. He pulled her into a narrow alleyway between two buildings.
“Where is the ship?” he asked, and then waited a moment. “We’re almost there,” he responded.
“Who are you talking to?” Rhylie whispered. It seemed like a very important question.
“You’ll know soon enough,” the figure responded. “You’ll know everything soon enough.”
They slipped from the narrow passageway, across the street and down another alley. It was a gradual process, with Rhylie dragging her feet every other step. Eventually, after crossing several streets her rescuer helped her up the loading ramp of a waiting ship.
The bay door slid shut behind them, and the ship lurched slightly as it lifted off. Her rescuer half-carried Rhylie to a large cockpit before strapping her into a seat secured against the back wall. The ship tilted backwards as her rescuer strapped himself into the seat beside her. He reached over and touched her bracelet, and she was visible again. He touched his own bracelet and became visible as well. His visor retracted from his entire head, seeming to vanish. It almost appeared as though spiderwebs were withdrawing into the collar of his jacket, like shadows in recoil from the morning sun. The flat black covering him head to toe began to recede as well, from his hands, and then his arms. Rhylie realized it was all being sucked into a small device on his belt. Underneath he was wearing a crisp, white shirt with a black vest over it. Several devices hung from the vest, giving it a very utilitarian look. His pants were black and his shoes were non-reflective gray. Around his waist hung a utility belt with a holster for a handgun and several more devices.
He had a slender, delicate visage, with long, curved, pointed ears. His skin tone was deep, navy blue and his hair was shock-white, hanging down well below his shoulders. His eyes were a solid, dark red with a bright golden ring in the center where the irises would be. Rhylie’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.
“That was too easy,” he said, eyes fixed ahead.
“I agree,” came a voice from the front of the cockpit. That was when Rhylie realized that there were four other people with them. They all sat in swivel chairs with their backs turned to her, except for one. “They’re not even asking for the authorization codes…they’re just letting us run with her. It’s like they want us to get away.”
“I was told that we would be receiving no assistance from our benefactor,” her rescuer said thoughtfully. “This is not good.”
The person speaking with her rescuer didn’t bother turning around. The other one that was already facing them unbuckled himself once the ship had stabilized. She hadn’t had enough time to take in what was around her, and she tur
ned her attention towards him as he stood up.
His skin was sagging, wrinkled and carried a patina of age. The tone of it was a deep, blood red; the shade of congealment. His fingers were long and slender, almost like spines, but they moved deftly as he pulled something from his pristine white uniform. His hands were gloved and long sleeves covered his arms. As he approached her, held up the palm of his right hand toward her. A small silver bubble formed in his palm and flattened across the glove. As he got closer, she took a good look at his face.
He had no eyes, and no brow, only a smooth expanse of skin stretched across his forehead from his nose up. He was covered in long, fine, sparse hairs that were graying with age. On either side of his head were large, bat-like ears that twitched about, as though they were seeking something.
She struggled to free herself, horrified, but she didn’t know how the restraints worked. Her rescuer placed his hand on her thigh, and for some reason, it calmed her. She stared down at it numbly. Was any of this even real? she thought.
“I need to scan her directly,” he said in a withered voice as he ambled over to her. She looked up her rescuer. He nodded back at her.
“This is something we need to do, for our safety as well as yours,” he said, trying to reassure her. She still felt weak and the thought of more prodding made her uneasy. She nodded reluctantly, and cast her eyes down at the floor so she didn’t have to look at that eyeless face. She felt him rub around on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then down, cupping the back of her neck. He held it there for a moment before pulling away.
“And we’re done,” the other alien said. Rhylie hadn’t felt a thing. “She has a neurochip implanted.” He sounded concerned.
“We knew she probably did,” her rescuer said. “Vorcia wants us to rescue her and take her back to the outpost…” his voice trailed off into silence that stretched on for a long moment before he spoke again, softly this time. “You know what we have to do now,” he finished solemnly.
Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) Page 9