The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1)

by Sicoe, Veronica

"Free me," I say, not caring who else hears me. "I'm running out of time. Please! They're innocent people. You must have family down there, too. You can't just let them die."

  He looks at me, his face drawn, disbelief and dread fighting over him. He grips his gun tighter, aiming at me.

  "There are thousands of children down there." I squirm violently in my straps. "You have kids, Officer?"

  The barrel of his gun sways slightly to the side. He hesitates. Then swings around and aims at the men beside me.

  One of them sees the gun and stands up. The Lieutenant Commander stands too. He stares bewildered at the Officer, then at me.

  "You fucking—"

  Pang.

  One shot, and then another. Two men collapse. The third yells something and backs away.

  The room falls quiet.

  The Officer comes closer, step by step, not letting them out of his sight. My breathing quickens. He stops by my side, still aiming at the other men, and begins to untie me with his free hand.

  I sit up, resist the urge to rub my wounded wrists, and look the Officer in the eyes. He looks back.

  "Is that true?" he asks. "What you said about the dome?"

  I nod. "General Hurst set the virus loose." His barrel lowers as he digests what I said. "What's the fastest way to get into your command grid?" I ask. "Can I use the server block in here?"

  The Officer stares at it, raising his eyebrows.

  An explosion quakes the walls around us, sending dust raining down from the ceiling.

  The other man cowers behind the table, leaving the Commander and his dead companions on the floor. The Lieutenant Commander was shot in the back, the Sergeant in the head. Blood slowly pools around them. The Commander has stopped twitching, slouched in the monstrous chair, the Nexus helmet still affixed to his head.

  I shove off the table and head for the server block.

  "I don't think you can do much, Miss," the Officer says. "We're under lock down."

  Another explosion rattles the room and the computers. Yells and gunfire follow. I rub my face and try to focus.

  The server block's command console is standard issue, probably meant for maintenance commands, maybe coordination. The display is on, the projector functional. I call up a keyboard, then stop.

  I can't hack into this thing—I can't link into it anymore.

  The black hole inside me grows a little more.

  The link was cut. I lost Amharr.

  Pain spreads through me. My chest feels crushed, my vision blurs. I can't breathe. I slump down to my knees, my useless hands trembling before me.

  "It's getting closer." The Officer grabs my shoulder. "Whatever you want to do, Miss, do it now."

  I nod, swallow painfully, and grab the main console with both hands. I visualize the energy within, electrons jetting through the metal, creating logic within the machine. But I see nothing. Feel nothing. Only the void that's consuming me.

  The Officer jumps. "Commander!"

  I snap around, eyes wide open.

  He stands beside the chair, boots drenched in others' blood, staring at me. He taps on his helmet and grins. I know that grin. I've seen it somewhere, long ago.

  "How wonderful," he says.

  It isn't him. It can't be him!

  "The mystery woman with alien DNA. We finally meet."

  48

  I instinctively know who he is, even though we've never met in person, not even now. I've only seen him in projections relaying the death sentence of my world: The Slayer of Tau Ceti, General Francis Hurst. FH-something-GEN2, who planted the virus in Erano's grid. Hate doesn't begin to describe what I feel.

  Now he's after my link. He wants Amharr. I'd rather die—I'd rather kill him a hundred times over.

  "It has come to my attention that you have something I want." He comes toward me, pulling the hideous chair behind him by the Nexus cables.

  I lean against the server block, trying to conceal the gall and faintness warring inside me.

  "Know that it's useless to deny it or oppose me," he says. "I know you have a connection to an alien being. I saw it. Commander Kempton saw it, really—glimpsed it, while he stupidly tried to crawl your brain with this... contraption."

  Gunshots and explosions rage outside, coming closer every minute. The Officer who helped me steps back as the remote-controlled Commander advances. He lifts his gun.

  The man-puppet is quicker. The Officer slumps down by the door, blood gushing out of his shredded cheek.

  "Too bad Kempton didn't understand what he found." He yanks the cables, pulling the chair closer as he advances toward me. "But I do. Now I want to know how it works, and what you're using it for."

  "I won't tell you a thing," I back away along the server block, eyes fixed on his.

  "Oh, but you will." He grins again with the Commander's borrowed mouth. "Let's start with an easy question, shall we?"

  There's nowhere to go. The Officer's body blocks the door, and I'd never push him aside in time. Running around the server block would only draw out the inevitable, while Erano's time ticks away.

  "Are you part of the Dabaran Syndicate, Miss?"

  "No."

  "But you have shared the company of Waylen Preston, correct?"

  I nod, inching away from him. I reach the corner of the server block and stop, trying to think of something, anything I can do.

  "Is Preston aware of your little secret? He must be. How else could he dare to start a war with the TMC?"

  I peer at the server's displays and consoles, trying to sort them out. There has to be one here that I can hack into, even if I have to do it the old-school way. If I only had the time...

  "Preston believes he has the upper hand." The man-puppet takes another step toward me, gesturing with his gun. "And you would be his ace in the hole. Or your alien connection, at least."

  "What are you talking about? Preston didn't send me here." My hand creeps up the consoles beside me. "I came to stop the dome drop you ordered. I acted alone."

  He tilts his head, trying to look smug, not fully succeeding in manipulating the Commander's finer facial muscles. "All that matters is you're here now. You'll help me understand this new alien species. I want to know if I can use them, or if I must destroy them."

  "You want to attack the aliens?" I chuckle. "Go ahead. I'd love to see them smear your remains all over the system."

  "I'll deal with them. I have more power than you imagine, and it will only grow when I'm done with you."

  Bile creeps up in my throat. "You have no fucking idea what you're dealing with."

  "Let that be my concern. Now, as for that connection of yours..." He stops right in front of me. "I suggest you cooperate. Unlike my inept host, I know exactly how to handle a Nexus. Ultimately, I don't need you to be conscious, or even alive. But it'll be easier on you if you don't resist."

  I press back against the server block. "I told you, the Commander cut my link. You'll gain nothing from this." I glance over to the door—to the dead Officer bleeding on the floor, still holding his gun.

  The gun!

  The Slayer of Tau Ceti stares at me through the Commander's eyes. "Something like that can't be cut. It's not a physical string. And this pitiful contraption can't cut anything." My breath catches, as if I haven't breathed in centuries. "All the Commander did was mess up the bed of neurons you're using to decipher its input."

  The black hole in my chest collapses in on itself, crushed by the feeblest of hopes.

  "I'll unscramble it," he says. "If you cooperate."

  I can almost taste Amharr's intoxicating presence within me again. Tears blur my vision.

  "If you don't," he says, "I'll extract the alien particles and inject them into the late Commander Kempton's brain. I'll be here in person soon enough to continue where I left off. And I'm coming with a rather brilliant scientist in tow, who'd love nothing more than a chance to get her hands on a new alien species." He grabs my shoulders.

  I clench my fists, haul of
f and strike him right across the jaw. He grunts, more shocked than pained, and lets go. I lunge for his helmet, grab hold, and yank out a conduit. Its coolant sheath rips. Liquid nitrogen spills out and freeze-burns his shoulder.

  He doesn't scream. Instead, he strikes back, gun in hand.

  I feint, and jab the loose conduit into his neck. He topples back, staring at me in shock.

  The door bursts open, shoving the Officer's body toward my feet. Four armored Ticks come running in, barrels glowing red. Weapons' fire batters everything outside, grenades go off, walls crumble, people yell. One of the Ticks slams the door and leans against it to keep it shut. Another's tactical visor trains on us, swinging from the choking Commander to me, and back again.

  The man-puppet grunts, clutches at his wound, and drops to his knees as I scramble for the dead Officer's gun. A Tick grabs me, flips me around and pins me to the floor. Two others rush over to save the Commander. He tries to fend them off, glaring at me with an insane expression, blood dripping from his mouth. They try to take his helmet off, to help him. He fights them off, but they pin him down.

  The Tick holding me shoves his gun into my cheek, burning me. "Who are you?"

  I kick against the wall beside me, push him off balance. I twist and squirm, flailing for the Officer's gun—lying just inches away.

  The Tick pulls me back by the arm and boots me in the stomach.

  I double up in pain, gasping for air. Another explosion rips through the corridor. The shockwave bursts the door open, throwing the Tick against the wall. He rushes to close it again, skidding desperately on the dust-covered floor. The others fall in behind him to hold the line, leaving the Commander to fend for himself.

  The Tick standing by me picks up the Officer's gun, kicks me in the shoulder, and rejoins his squad.

  I cough blood and roll over, bright, painful spots dancing in my vision. I breathe deeply, steady myself, and get up onto all fours. I stare at the hijacked Commander, and the sadistic prick inside him stares back at me. The Nexus helmet is smoking with coolant vapors, the chair buzzing frantically. I glance at the server block, and my thoughts click into place. Maybe I can use the Nexus to hack into the station's grid and stop that virus somehow, even without the link. Maybe I can still make it.

  Another explosion—thunderous, close. Whoever they're fighting outside, I hope they can buy me a few more minutes.

  I stand up. So does the Commander. Both of us in time to see the door blown off its hinges, and gunfire flooding the room in a deafening roar.

  Darkness billows through the doorway and breaks like a wave of smoke. It whirls up into a pillar, funneling furiously toward the ceiling. The Ticks shoot in panicked bursts. The black tornado swallows their ammo, advancing on them. It touches the tips of their guns, and they melt and drip on the buckling floor. Their faces blister, their armors burn into their muscles, bones crack from the heat. They drop one by one like lumps of human coal.

  The tornado contracts, spinning faster, materializing an ominous shape. The deadly vapors compress into a silhouette I immediately recognize: Amharr.

  My heart blazes jubilation, leaving me breathless.

  The man-puppet drops to his knees beside me, face drawn by shock.

  Amharr stands before me just as I remember him: porcelain face glowing with strength, his black, imperious eyes greedily absorbing me. We reach for each other—skin touching skin in electric bliss. Tears run hotly down my face.

  Amharr looks at the figure beside me, and his eyes narrow into slits. I turn, and stare right into the barrel of a gun.

  "This link of yours is quite impressive." The man-puppet's voice scrapes hoarsely in his damaged throat. "Too bad it has one fatal weakness—you."

  The gun goes off.

  My head snaps back.

  49

  And then I wake.

  Heat flows through me. Searing tendrils crawl into my brain and spine, reviving and strengthening me. Every nerve and muscle bristles with energy, and I'm clearer than ever before. No memories distract me. No feelings cloud my judgment. No hesitation slows me down anymore.

  Hurst shot me. He killed me.

  I open my eyes and the man-puppet backs away, bumping into the Nexus chair. The gun shakes in his hand, still aimed at my face.

  Swift and precise, we dash forward as one and I grab it. Hurst shoots me in the stomach. Pain flares up, then subsides. I snatch the gun and toss it aside.

  This ends now.

  I grab the Commander's face and shove both hands under his helmet.

  He clutches my wrists, staring wildly. "I shot you!"

  "So what?" My words are redoubled by Amharr's thundering voice. "Why did you inject that virus?" He glares at me intensely, then at Amharr. Slowly, his expression shifts. He grins. "Shut it down."

  "No."

  I press my fingers to his temples. "Do it, and I'll let you live."

  "You can't kill me. I'm not here." He laughs hoarsely, blood oozing out of his neck-wound. "I'll destroy that shithole before I let the Syndicate—or some alien freak—take over it."

  "Deactivate the virus," I growl. "Or I will turn your fucking brain to pulp right through that Nexus."

  He grins insanely. "Go fuck yourself."

  I press my fingers against his skull. Heat burns through my arms and hands, setting my skin aglow.

  He tries to free himself, to pull away, but his flailing barely registers. My new strength is intoxicating—I feel capable of anything.

  I clasp my hands tighter.

  His skin blisters. His smugness fades. I take over the Nexus connections and zoom in on Hurst, squirming like a hideous parasite inside the Commander's brain. My hands glow and he screams in agony. Then his skull cracks. Blood and brain tissue burst between my fingers to dribble onto the floor.

  I look at the corpse, lying in a puddle of blood and twisted cables. I feel nothing. No pity, no remorse; only clarity.

  My heart picks up speed as reality catches up with me: I accomplished nothing. The virus is still active. Millions will die.

  Boots shuffle outside. Tracks crunch through the rubble. Weapons are loaded.

  Amharr breathes softly beside me, his fingers still wrapped around my neck. His tendrils investigate me carefully as his nanites and organelles continue to optimize me cell by cell. The server block hums beside me. I look into Amharr's eyes, but don't need to tell him. We have to stop that virus. He knows because I know.

  He looks at me closely and nods—a human gesture I've never seen him make before. I smile.

  Amharr touches the server block and thousands of tendrils plunge into its circuits. He shares his new territory with me. In a single, mind-dazzling flash, I see billions of data sets and thousands of programs—the station's vast ecosystem of AIs and sub-systems, working, adapting, and evolving at dizzying speeds.

  Which one? Amharr asks me wordlessly.

  I'm not sure...

  Erano is disconnected from Hades by the HEM AI's impervious protocols. We have to override it somehow, then get through Erano's CIS as well.

  I do not understand the logic of your technology, Amharr says. But I will aid you, whatever you decide.

  Great—if I knew where the hell to start.

  Fuck. It's almost midnight. We have only minutes left.

  I shouldn't have wasted so much time on that heinous motherfucker Hurst. I can't let him win now, no fucking way!

  Amharr studies my anger with fascination. His lustful hunger is intoxicating, and I want so much to...

  We have no time for this now. Focus.

  He clears my mind, as though the sun just broke through heavy storm-clouds.

  The fastest way to stop the virus is to reboot Erano's entire network and purge it of all non-indigenous code. A master reset. Many of the colony's auxiliary systems will fail. All the improvements and fine-tunings of the last century will be lost. But so will the Trust's systems and rule sets. The reset will flush out their AIs and management protocols, the TMC's leeches
and crawlers as well.

  Erano will be thrown back into a primitive state, but it will survive. The people will live. And they'll be free.

  But how to force a master reset?

  Malfunctions!

  Priority conflicts, critical security failures, infrastructure breakdown—crude but effective, and none of it would require time-consuming hacks. But first we have to break out of the HEM AI's confines, and fast. There's no time to wrestle with it and its vast resources. We have to obliterate it in one blow. I ponder the problem, sharing it with Amharr, my mind racing under pressure. Can we do that?

  I sense eager anticipation. It's disconcerting and rousing at the same time. Yes, Amharr replies. I have experience with annihilation.

  I look into those black, bottomless eyes, and he accelerates my mind in an instant. I'm shot into Hades' grid with maddening speed—jet through its billions of components, triage, search and scan them, and converge on their core: the HEM AI's server cluster. I confirm our target.

  Amharr invades the unsuspecting machines with delightful ferocity. He raids their logical labyrinths, cutting every external connection, destroying the AI's base code, then overloading every backup system connected to it. I watch in amazement as the mighty Hades synthetic complex is reduced to a pile of smoldered circuit boards.

  The network is silent.

  I'm awestruck. Is this how Amharr's species interacts with technology, without any interface? Without language barriers and lags? No wonder they're so much more evolved than us; and so much more destructive.

  No, he replies. The Raimerians manipulate technology this way. We used to have our own tools and methods once, thousands of cycles ago. Not anymore. Now we are tools ourselves.

  The realizations of that—still fresh and overwhelming in Amharr's mind—deeply alarms me.

  But we have no time to worry about the Raimerians. We must use Hades' com systems to somehow assault Erano's CIS, and force a master reset. And we have only three minutes left to do it.

  50

  General Hurst lies sprawled on the floor of his command center. His pupils are wide with shock, his chest heaving rapidly.