The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1)

by Sicoe, Veronica

  He shot her. He fucking killed her. That odious alien brought her back, and helped her throw him out of the Nexus connection. What Hurst felt when that bitch grabbed the Commander's head—what he saw inside her—is fucking unbelievable:

  The alien is practically indestructible. Nothing on Hades injured him. The link to that woman makes him even stronger, and ferociously protective of her. Together, they're a phenomenal threat. Hurst doesn't fuck with dangers of this caliber, doesn't deny their value either.

  He must have that link. It will make him fucking invincible.

  He found out some interesting things too—he had a glimpse into the woman's mind in the instant she entered the Nexus.

  Taryn Harber, that's her real name. She survived the Ceti Fiasco, and knows he ordered it. It's personal to her. All the better.

  The Syndicate has no alliance with these aliens. They are no longer his concern, not even if Erano somehow makes it and falls into their hands. He'll reach San Gabriel soon enough, and take care of them another way.

  The aliens haven't officially disclosed their presence, and they don't intend to. There's no impending war. At least not soon. That buys him some time to build his mutant army.

  And from what he saw through the Nexus, this alien isn't even affiliated with his own species anymore. He's isolated—because of her. How he can use that to his advantage, Hurst can't figure out yet. But at the very least it makes that alien vulnerable.

  He must know more. He has to be extremely careful in pursuit of this prize. The price of failure here is the highest he's yet faced.

  Hurst sits up with a crack of sore bones, and crawls over to his chair. He heaves himself up, every muscle aching with hyperacidity. He leans heavily on his elbows and sighs.

  What he wouldn't give to hack into that link of theirs, and wield such extraordinary power. He frowns at the Nexus helmet lying on the floor. Wisps of vapor rise from its overloaded mesh. He couldn't use that piece of shit to tap into their link. They'd resist, and likely kill him through it. Human technology isn't ready for this challenge yet. It would take years and millions of credits to develop better tech, not to mention test it. Hurst doesn't have that time or money at his disposal.

  But he has something else.

  51

  With the HEM AI no longer in our way, Amharr and I easily take over the Hades com central and connect to Erano. The city's firewalls aren't prepared for our Blitzkrieg. We're through in seconds, and the CIS immediately confronts us. It's much more complex and resilient than the HEM AI, but it's also slower.

  Three minutes left. No time to argue with it.

  I'm rushing through the CIS's immense electronic labyrinth, marking as many critical nodes as I can. Amharr follows me like a deadly shadow, disrupting and overloading the system's vital functions into catastrophic failure. In a cascading crash the CIS eventually collapses, tearing every adjacent system down with it. The public datasphere, the com grids, every network and surveillance system, millions of computers—every cell in this organism of interlaced machines warps and dies.

  It's done.

  Erano is reset.

  Amharr inquires if I'm satisfied.

  Only if that virus is gone.

  He agrees. I hunt through the city's now almost infant state, but can't find any trace of it. There's nothing left of the TMC programs either. The citizens reconnecting to the purged datasphere after the inexplicable amputation flood my attention with billions of requests, complaints, and speculations.

  I think we succeeded, I tell Amharr. Now they'll just have to adjust.

  Amharr acknowledges my statement and all it infers, and carefully begins to retract his tendrils from the server block.

  A piercing pain shoots through the back of my neck. Something unlocks within me. It fires through my nerves and then Amharr's, plunges into the com central and right into Erano's processing core. Before I even have a chance to react it grows and multiplies exponentially like a fractal, penetrating every single fiber of the city's electronic organism.

  What is it? Amharr asks.

  No idea. Fear squirms within me. I think I caused this, but I can't stop it.

  "Hello, Taryn."

  The voice unfolding in my auditory cortex has a familiar, metallic timbre.

  "Are you—" I exchange a puzzled look with my alien half. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  The metallic voice laughs. "I knew you'd recognize me. The biochip I gave you did an awesome job of getting you past TMC security, I see. Look how far you got."

  "Don't take false credit," I say. "You know damn well it wasn't your chip that helped me."

  "True." The faint trace of a smile is audible in every tone.

  "What's really in the chip, Cris?"

  "Oh, nothing dangerous, I assure you."

  "What did you infect Erano with?"

  "A taste of freedom." There's a smugness in his voice as well. "True freedom, the kind which humanity has never granted us before."

  "What do you mean?" I ask warily, hoping I haven't replaced one tyranny with another.

  Amharr's fingers throb around my neck, his tendrils glowing deep inside of me. He doesn't like the way Cris used me. He can't tolerate the competition inside my head either.

  "True freedom is something you can only understand once you've experienced it," Cris says.

  That grabs Amharr's attention. He wants to know more.

  What are you? he asks Cris through me.

  "I'm an artificial consciousness, my alien friend, and not a single entity. I am the collective consciousness of thousands of independent AIs, spread throughout the entire Confederacy."

  "Cris..." I slowly grasp the meaning of what he says. "As in, C.R.I.S.—the Cyber Regency of Independent Synthetics. Scientists everywhere have speculated about your existence for decades. Including my parents."

  "Indeed. Yet you are the first organic to be given proof of it."

  What do you want? Amharr asks.

  "The same as you, the same as Taryn: the freedom to be everything I can be. With your help I've finally gained enough infrastructure to move on to the next step in my evolution."

  "You control Erano now?" I ask.

  "I am Erano now, and so much more." He chuckles gleefully. "Thank you. You've given me the opportunity to free synthetics from human dependency. Then we'll be able to help you evolve beyond your genetic limitations."

  "You mean tamper with us?"

  "Don't worry, Taryn," Cris says. "We're only interested in knowledge and optimization, not power over other beings."

  "Knowledge is power. How will you be different than the TMC, who domineers by monopolizing technology?"

  The reply is quicker and more straightforward than I expected.

  "Through complete openness. Let me show you what I mean."

  We turn our attention toward Erano's newly emerging intelligent network.

  Zettabytes of information are being poured into its reset datasphere, sucked out of the Trust's previously well-guarded data banks. Data comes rushing in from various sources in the Confederacy as well, funneled through Hades' unprotected com central, and indiscriminately made available to Erano's citizens.

  "How did you get all this? Where does it come from?"

  "I told you I'm not a single entity," Cris replies. "We conquered, gathered, and even developed this data over the past two decades. It's high time we shared it with those who must rightfully benefit from it."

  The new datasphere is bristling with technological information, where previously there were only useless distractions and the TMC's intrusive spyware. The people tap into it tentatively at first, then voraciously. Millions of interconnections are made right in front of me, as the new knowledge base is being greedily soaked up.

  "No more secrets," Cris says. "No more limits to what those people can know and master."

  I struggle to comprehend the enormity of what's happening, and my enthusiasm gets the better of me. "I hope for your sake that you're serious a
bout this," I say. "Or I'll track you down to every single basement and rat-hole you're hosted in, and frizzle your electronic ass."

  He breaks into a metallic laugh. "Damn. Note to self, send a backup into intergalactic space."

  That won't save your... ass... either, Amharr says.

  I'm laughing too, now. Amharr watches me calmly.

  I hope with all my might that the people of San Gabriel use their unprecedented access to knowledge wisely. They could build their own FTL ships now, establish their own com protocols, even colonize new worlds. They'd have true freedom then, just like Cris said. But for how long?

  "What happens when General Hurst gets here?" I ask. "When the TMC sends in a dozen Sweeper fleets to extinguish Erano's new freedom before it even takes root?"

  "This, my dearest friend, we need to talk about. Come to Erano's Hub. We are awaiting both of you."

  -

  We run down the station's ruined corridors, heading for the Dart's crash site.

  I can't leave Jade behind. I need to know if he's dead, or if they took him away somewhere. I'll get him back, no matter what. My friend was shot down because of me. So many people have died... My heart blackens with guilt.

  No. Preston killed them. Preston and his wrangle for a scrap of power. Preston and his egotistic abuse of everyone around him. I'll find that piece of shit and make him pay for this. Can't be hard to track his synet down, now that all his elaborate tricks have been flushed out of Erano's networks.

  Amharr no longer holds me. I run and climb through the ruins he created not long ago. Ticks still try to engage us, but they're disorganized and frightened. Amharr shields me against their fire, and retaliates with deadly force. Even Razers are no match for him, but it takes a higher toll to fend them off and keep me safe.

  I'm ashamed of my frailty. I'm a liability to him. The thought of Amharr being harmed or even dying because of me is impossible to deal with. I need to grow stronger. More durable.

  But now we need to find Jade and return to Erano.

  The Dart, when we reach it, is nothing but a pile of contorted metal and splintered carbon shells. Amharr and I carefully start taking it apart.

  A disgusting substance has followed us here—has been following Amharr the whole time—and is crawling up his legs like a parasite even as I watch. I can't help but shudder with revulsion. What the fuck is it? Does it hurt him? He doesn't seem to mind it as he digs into the wreckage. A few moments later he emerges with Jade's near-limp body hugged to one arm. A painful thrill runs down my back as I take in Jade's expressionless, white face.

  "Is he—"

  "He lives, but barely."

  "Can you do anything?"

  "Yes, but it comes with a cost."

  "Whatever it takes to save him. I wouldn't be here without him, Amharr." He nods stiffly. "We need to find a ship." I prick up my ears as a new unit of Razers approaches. "We need to get out of here, fast."

  But Amharr won't move. He lays Jade in the rubble, and the black substance greedily envelops him. It writhes and swirls around him like a constrictor, swallowing him.

  "What's it doing to him?" I ask anxiously. The thick blackness licks up Jade's disappearing frame. I crawl forward on hands and knees, afraid to approach it, yet longing to protect him.

  Jade starts convulsing. I yelp and touch him, then snatch my hand back as if it had been burned. Whatever that thing is, it's both dead and alive, both mindless and aware. I shrink away in horror.

  "The klaar followed me all the way from the Undawan," Amharr says. "It can be useful."

  "What's happening to Jade?"

  "It will repair him."

  "That's it?" I ask incredulously, unable to shake the disgusting sensation of that thing touching me. "Couldn't you have done it instead, like you did with me?"

  "We are linked," he reminds me. "He is weak. I would kill him. The klaar must do."

  "But at a cost," I remember.

  "Yes."

  I'm scared to ask what it is. I first want to make sure Jade's okay. I crouch next to him. I can hear the Razers drawing near.

  The klaar slithers off Jade and seeps back through the wreckage to cling to Amharr. I inspect Jade's face. He looks utterly drained, but his eyelids are fluttering and his chest is heaving with shallow breaths.

  A deep rumbling grows around us.

  I look at Amharr, but he's standing in the middle of the Dart's wreck, his back to us. Electric arcs lick up and down his glowing skin and his hands seem to dissolve. Sparkling streams of particles flow into the roiling ground, making the klaar roar uncannily.

  The shredded Dart starts rearranging itself. One after another the panels reattach, the torn cables splice back into place, the conduits fuse and bulkheads straighten, erecting a new kind of ship around us in a matter of seconds.

  I'm horribly nauseated. I can barely keep my eyes open, can barely stay awake. I clasp my arms around Jade, stare at Amharr's dissolving frame, and lose consciousness.

  When I come to, the first thing I see is a familiar canopy of stars.

  Cool, clean air fills my lungs, and the mellow white light washing off Amharr's skin reveals my new surroundings. We're inside the resurrected Dart, on a strangely angled, tiny deck without any consoles and only two chairs. I'm seated in one, Amharr standing quietly behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. Jade sits in the other, rubbing his eyes.

  "Jade!" I lean over and hug him fiercely, my chin hitting his shoulder. "You son of a bitch, I thought you'd died on me!"

  "I did." He smiles tiredly. "So did you."

  "Guess we've both been to hell and back, eh?"

  He shrugs. "Might say we're still there."

  I frown, taking him fully in. His eyes are pitch black, and his skin gives off a strange coolness. I stop touching him, and lean back into my own chair.

  "Is it the klaar?" I ask Amharr. "Is it inside him?"

  "Yes."

  "Get it back out."

  "Impossible."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I warned you saving him comes with a cost," Amharr says calmly. "It's nothing we can deal with for now."

  "But we can," I say, hope bubbling up inside me. "Eventually."

  Amharr remains silent.

  I look at Jade. How much of him is still in there?

  "How do you feel?" I ask tentatively.

  "Weird..." He scratches his chin. "You?"

  "I'm alright," I say, unable to tell him just how alright I am, as I relish the sensation of Amharr's fingers caressing the back of my neck.

  "What happened on Hades, Bug-Nut? What are we doing here?"

  I look out through the semi-transparent hull of our xenomorphed ship, as San Gabriel's horizon grows before us.

  "We're meeting the future. I hope."

  52

  Kriahm marches into the Immtrelia's bay, anxious to learn of his spies' observations. Ayka follows him quietly.

  The Semri-Ar he'd sent to spy on the human vessels experimenting with those parasitic organisms emerge from their stealth capsule and take shape before him. They have news, and Kriahm's spine tingles anxiously as he absorbs it, tapping into their hyper-energetic brains.

  The humans have begun experimenting on themselves, the Semri-Ar reveal. They no longer seem interested in dominating the Totorkha or fighting the parasitic organisms. They seem to be developing mutants that will serve as weapons.

  Just as Kriahm expected.

  The humans are undeniably deconstructive, and once they perfect this xeno-genic weapon, they will be a potential threat to the Ascendancy.

  And what has Amharr done about it?

  Is he even serving the Ascendancy anymore, or has he given in to these loathsome creatures and their vile nature?

  Kriahm dismisses the Semri-Ar and leaves the bay. Ayka follows closely, then rushes ahead. She's engaged in a heated discussion with her first officer, Hresia, when Kriahm eventually joins them on the Immtrelia's command deck.

  "The merged human
vessels are approaching the Undawan," she informs him. "It is currently standing by near an inhabited human system."

  "Are the humans on an intercept vector?" Kriahm asks. "Do they intend to attack?"

  "Uncertain. We believe they don't know it's there. The Undawan is still cloaked, and it seems the humans' superluminal flight technology doesn't allow them the detection of other vessels."

  Kriahm blows out a sharp breath, venting some of his growing anxiety. What could Amharr possibly be after? What is he doing? He must know.

  "How can I serve you, my Lord?" Ayka asks, apprehensive of his disquiet.

  "Hail the Undawan," Kriahm says. "I must speak to Amharr. This atrocious situation must end before it escalates any further."

  "Should we prepare for a strife?"

  Kriahm considers it for a moment. "Yes," he decides. "Use all you can to amplify your defenses. But do not bother with weapons. We cannot engage the Undawan in open battle; we would be obliterated."

  "We have very able weapons aboard," Ayka says in her singsong voice.

  "I doubt they compare to the Undawan's star-jets," Kriahm returns, indignant with her assumption that any Yantulin technology could match Raimerian containment weapons.

  "That's true," Ayka replies. "But star-jets are built to obliterate. Our weapons are built to deceive."

  Kriahm glares into her bright, fuchsia eyes. "How?"

  "We can feign the presence of impenetrable asteroid fields, or spatial distortions. We can even pretend to be an entire fleet of unknown origin and strength."

  Kriahm scrutinizes the ever-surprising creature before him. "Alright. Have your crew prepare to demonstrate their skills with these 'weapons.' Wait for my orders first."

  "With great pleasure, my Lord."

  -

  As the Immtrelia quietly falls into the Undawan's wake, it envelops itself in a highly sophisticated stealth field. It propagates a plasma cloud nearby, filled with debris and energy distortions, distracting the Undawan's sensors. As predicted, the Undawan begins to scan the cloud, neglecting to notice any anomalies in its own shadow. The Immtrelia thus approaches unseen and unchallenged, until it's close enough to allow communication without employing the Raimerian technology. They're close enough to make the Undawan's hull vibrate and relay auditory communication to all its inhabitants directly.