Debris of Shadows Book I: The Lies of the Sage

by Tony LaRocca

  “The plane’s velocity is relatively slow,” another said. “We think they want to keep him in the air as long as possible. The problem is control. We had to fit the automaton inside the missile cone, and the only way to do that was to remove the homing computer. The rocket has maneuvering jets, but we’ll have to target it from here—and all of the Sage’s resources are fighting the invasion.”

  0800 and Sigma looked at each other. Sigma turned to Matthew. She pointed to the hologram. “Do you see that plane?” she asked. He nodded. “General Jaeger is on board, and I need you to get something to him.”

  “Sigma, are you sure?” asked 0800.

  “He’s more the Sage than any of us,” she said. “Matthew, there is something the general needs you to give him right away, or more bad men will break in here, and hurt us all.”

  A tiny flame of hope ignited in Alyanna’s chest. “Who’s attacking?” she asked.

  Sigma glared at her. “Regular Army, who do you think?” She returned her attention to Matthew. “We need you to help aim a missile exactly where it can intercept him. Can you do that?”

  Matthew shrugged. “How?”

  Sigma pointed at the plane. “We’re going to play a game. You have to pretend that you’re a rocket. Can you do that, Matthew? Can you pretend that?”

  He nodded. “I think so,” he said.

  “I know you can,” said Sigma. She stared into his eyes. “I’m going to help you, okay? In a moment, you’re going to become the rocket. You’re going to feel like you’re shooting through the sky towards that jet. Whatever you do, stay focused. Concentrate. Keep looking at it. It’s going to get close, faster and faster. No matter what, don’t stop looking at it.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Launching.”

  The image of the sky spun, with the jet at its center. After a moment, it leveled. The hologram of the plane shook and grew, wisps of the atmosphere streaking by in thin, white lines.

  Matthew’s breath became fast, heavy pants. His eyes were wide. Alyanna felt him become rigid in her arms. The crackling static beneath his shirt grew louder. “I’m flying,” he said. His face broke into a grin. “This is so, so cool.”

  “That’s good,” Sigma said, watching the hologram. “You’re doing fine, Matthew. Concentrate. You have to focus everything on that plane. You have to fly into it. Don’t worry about your speed, we’ll take care of that from here. Just make sure you hit it.”

  “No,” Alyanna said, “it’s our only chance to get out.” She turned, pulling her son away.

  Her voice sounded muffled and choked, as if something covered her mouth. The scene in front of her eyes had not changed. She still held Matthew, and he still stared wide–eyed at nothing with all of his concentration. He had not heard; they had taken control of her virtual body away from her. She was just shouting inside of her V.R. suit, her voice audible only to her ears.

  In the corner of the control room, a soldier rippled into existence, shuddered, and fell. 0800 appeared at Alyanna’s side, and wrapped his arms around her. She realized that he was not restraining her; he was protecting her and Matthew.

  “Concentrate,” Sigma said in Matthew’s ear. To Alyanna’s disgust, she took his hands in hers. There were more shimmering noises around them. Alyanna heard the soldiers fall as the other Cylebs rushed to the defense.

  On the screen, the plane grew larger. “Miss,” Alyanna cried from within her suit, her throat raw against the feeding tube, “for God’s sake, miss!”

  Within his flying prison, an eerie calm overtook Jaeger. He had raged against the inevitable, and now he only felt exhaustion. Once again, they had bound, blinded, and silenced him. He could not dump the fuel, he could not stall the engines, and he could not initiate self–destruction. They had sealed him off, and there was nothing left but to accept it.

  Without warning, the plane spun counterclockwise. Had something hit it? He darted back and forth along the cockpit’s constrained maze of circuits. Something had penetrated the frame. Whatever it was, it had knocked the jet into a spiral, but its warhead must have been a dud.

  “General?”

  Sigma’s voice squawked from the radio. In an instant, he realized what she had done. He thrust his consciousness into the transmitter, and escaped.

  Wave after wave of soldiers materialized and fell before Alyanna’s frozen eyes, but the strain of the battle was taking its toll on the Cylebs. One lay across his panel, a vein in his forehead ruptured and oozing. They were winning so far, but they could not last against the sheer number of the opposition.

  Sigma stood, drenched in sweat, a line of crimson dribbling from her nostrils, and down her chin. Her normally brilliant irises were dull rings amid bloodshot orbs. Two commandos materialized on either side of her. She looked at the one on her left. He collapsed, but floundered on the floor for a full four seconds before vanishing. She turned her gaze to the one on her right. The soldier trembled, but did not fall. Alyanna heard 0800 groan behind her as the soldier, moving like a fly trapped in amber, fought to raise his rifle. Over Sigma’s shoulder, she saw the hologram zoom in on the jet’s fuselage, and burst into static.

  Matthew sagged in her arms, the spell broken. “Did I do it?” he asked. Sigma did not respond. She shuddered, her eyes locked with the soldier’s as his finger struggled to squeeze the trigger.

  “He is here,” she said.

  The soldier dropped his rifle. His hands flung to his face. He tore his mask away. He was young; Alyanna placed him in his mid–twenties. His gloved fingers curled into claws.

  0800 covered Matthew’s eyes.

  The soldier’s jaw clamped shut, his teeth clacking with the sound of snapping wood. His throat emitted muffled screams as he tore his bulging eyes from their sockets. His self–mutilation complete, he burst into flames, writhing as his flesh twisted and blackened. Even Sigma turned away, but Alyanna had no choice but to watch the unfortunate scapegoat of the general’s wrath. She could smell his charred flesh, like burning pork, and her stomach flopped. At last, his corpse, peeled like a blackened rose, disappeared.

  0800 released his hold on Matthew, and slumped to the floor. Sigma staggered back, leaning against a console for support.

  “It’s happening throughout the Sage,” another Cyleb said. “The general is… taking care of them.”

  Sigma nodded. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaking hand. “We need to find that transmitter, and destroy it,” she said. “Get some Crawlers in that pipe.”

  Matthew clapped his hands. “Mommy, I did it,” he said. He looked at Alyanna. “Mommy?”

  Sigma darted her a look. Alyanna stumbled forward as the Cyleb relinquished control of her mouth and limbs. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, you did it.” She returned Sigma’s bloodshot stare.

  “Are you all right, Artist?” Sigma asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

  Alyanna swallowed. “Just fine,” she said.

  “Did I do good?” Matthew asked.

  Sigma leaned, and kissed him on the forehead with trembling lips. “You were wonderful,” she said, as Alyanna choked back the bile that surged into her throat.

  That night, Alyanna awoke from a nightmare. She clutched at the memory, but the details melted away. All she could recall was screaming, and the smell of burning meat.

  She walked to the bathroom, filled a paper cup, and drank. The cool water poured over her tongue, but she did not feel it in her throat. She gagged for a moment. Then she blinked, remembering where she was.

  She was inside of a lie.

  Her muscles cramped within her belly. Oh God, she thought, my baby! She fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach. She felt the onset of diarrhea, and stumbled to the toilet. Fire shot through her pelvis, throat, and wrists, all in the same instant. She squeezed her eyes shut. I’m dying, she thought. I’m having a heart attack, or a miscarriage—

  She opened her eyes.

  She lay naked on a hospital cot. A face loomed above her. She squinted,
bringing the glowing, solemn rictus into focus.

  “There you are,” Jaeger said.

  She coughed. “You lying piece of shit,” she said, sputtering. “Could I have a sheet, or something?” The general handed her a robe. She took it, trembling. She tried to sit up, but the world swam, and she fell back onto the bed. “Fuckers,” she said. She clutched the robe around herself, and curled away. Her throat felt raw. A bandage covered her wrist where the IV had been, a dot of blood in its center.

  “Warn me next time,” she said.

  “I am sorry,” said Jaeger. “We usually administer barbiturates to ease the pain of withdrawal. However, these may have an adverse effect on your unborn child.”

  “Why isn’t Sigma here?” Alyanna asked. 0800 entered the room, and offered her a cup. She took it, squinted at it, and sipped the liquid inside. It tasted like a powdered orange drink made with heavy cream, but it was cool, and soothed her throat. “I thought she’d enjoy seeing me in pain.”

  “Oh, she would,” Jaeger said. “However, she has other duties to attend to.” Alyanna felt a strange, euphoric clarity, as if she were drunk and alert at the same time. She slurped at the syrupy concoction. “Do you feel like going for a little drive?”

  Alyanna glared at him. “I can barely move,” she said.

  “That’s just an immediate withdrawal symptom,” he said. “It will pass in a few minutes. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to walk on your own in an hour or two.”

  “Wait,” she said, “what about Matthew?”

  Jaeger blinked, communicating with the others. “He’s all right for now,” he said. “0800 will entertain him while we’re gone.”

  0800 inclined his head. “Don’t worry about anything, Mrs. Galbraith,” he said. “I like playing with him.”

  She looked about her. “May I have some privacy?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Jaeger said. “I’ll be waiting.” He left, 0800 at his side.

  She struggled to her feet. On a table, folded into perfect squares, were the clothes she had worn when she had arrived. She put them on, noting that they felt a little looser, except around her breasts, which were fuller. I’ve lost a few pounds, she marveled, maybe this thing’s not so bad.

  Don’t even joke, the voice inside her said. Watch, and learn. There must be an emergency release built into the V.R., a password or something. Find it. You can’t have your baby here.

  The yellow vehicle glided above the streets of Manhattan. It was noon. Alyanna realized that the days inside the Sage were not the same as those outside. There were few cars, either on the ground, or in the air. They—she, Jaeger, and a driver—all wore hazard suits.

  “Yesterday was a rough day,” Jaeger said, as if a parent counseling an errant child. “We all had a bit of excitement.” Alyanna remained silent, staring out of the window.

  “I hear you wanted to jump ship,” he said. She froze, her muscles rigid. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I would have done the same thing. The first obligation of any prisoner is to escape.”

  “So you admit I’m a prisoner?” she asked.

  Jaeger chuckled, his voice tinny through the speaker of his suit. “I admit you feel like one,” he said, “but I think you just need to be reeducated.”

  Alyanna snorted. She pressed her faceplate to the glass, examining the empty streets. “Where the hell is everyone…”

  Her voice trailed off as the car banked around a skyscraper, and she saw the pile. Her mind could not fathom it at first, because it was as high as a house. She sunk back into her seat, unable to pull her eyes away as they descended to the asphalt. She had seen films of Auschwitz, of the corpses stacked for cremation. Cylebs in white hazard suits piled body upon body, right in the middle of Broadway. One pair laid a glowing green tube around the heap’s circumference, while another constructed intersecting arches above it. Cables snaked from the structure to a cargo truck, its flatbed stacked with plastic cubes. A small, barrel–shaped robot with a medical insignia on its chest patrolled the area.

  The framework ignited with a glow the color of algae. A low, rumbling chime filled the air. Even half a block away, Alyanna felt her chest cavity resonate. Her teeth chattered. Her skin, especially her scalp, felt dry and irritated, almost to the point of pain.

  The air within the dome burst into a ball of emerald lightning. The containers on the truck flared brighter than the sunlight, casting shadows inside of the vehicle. The glow faded. The electricity crackling in the air stopped its dance.

  “Nothing wasted,” Jaeger said. “Matter to energy converters. There’s enough stored in those batteries now to power an apartment building for a month.”

  “Oh my God,” Alyanna whispered.

  On the pavement within the hemisphere, only a fine coating of white ash remained. With a low rumble, the flatbed of batteries raised itself a few feet into the air. It lumbered down the street, and another took its place.

  A second truck came around the corner, carrying a bundled tarp. Alyanna could see faces pressing against the plastic. Her heart pounded. Saliva swamped her mouth. She could not breathe. Something swam inside her stomach, and surged into her throat. She threw the door open, and fell onto the pavement.

  “Mrs. Galbraith, no!” she heard Jaeger shout. Who cares? she wondered. They had their suits to protect them, and she was immune. She doubled over. She fumbled with her neck seal, but could not unlock it with her gloves. She yanked her right one off, removed her helmet, and vomited. Her bile reeked of syrupy, citrus cream. She retched and retched until she had nothing left.

  “Turn it off, turn it off!” Jaeger shouted. His voice seemed to come from far away. Something rolled up to her. It was the medical robot. A blue light sparked in its eyes, growing in intensity.

  “Decontaminate,” it said.

  The blue light raked her hand. Agony, like cold, electric fire, shot through her arm. Then she was swallowed by darkness.

  Harsh, white light bore into Alyanna’s eyes. She lay on a cot, her right forearm encased in a glowing tube. “What the hell?” she asked, her voice slurred.

  “Sir, she’s coming around,” a Cyleb said.

  Jaeger stepped into view. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Terrible,” she said. She put her left hand over her belly. “My baby, oh God…”

  The general held out a glowing palm. “The baby is fine, Mrs. Galbraith. However, your arm has suffered severe nerve damage.”

  She swallowed. “How bad?” she asked.

  He pressed a few buttons on the glowing cast. It opened. He lifted her hand gingerly, and placed it in her lap. She did not feel his touch.

  “It’s unlikely you’ll have use of this hand again,” he said.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “No,” she said. She lifted her head, and looked at her right hand. “I can’t draw anymore?” she asked. She tried to wiggle her fingers. Nothing happened. “Are you telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

  Jaeger took a sharp breath. “We could replace your arm with a cybernetic one,” he said. “It would be wired to your brain, so you’d control it with your thoughts.”

  “Jesus,” she said. She turned her head, and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “There is an alternative,” he said. “If we implant a neural network, you could be moved to an interface tank instead of needing a V.R. suit. The implant would read your brain impulses, and respond accordingly. Within the Sage, you would be able to create.”

  Alyanna met his gaze. “What are you selling me?”

  “Nothing,” he said, “since you have already agreed to stay with us.”

  Alyanna sniffed. “And then I’ll never leave, is that it?” she asked. “What about my baby?”

  Jaeger sat on a chair beside her bed. “You have eight months to decide what you want to do about that,” he said.

  “I’m not giving birth here.”

  He sighed. “Where will you go?” He handed her a data pad. She read the document on its screen: />
  Mrs. Alyanna Galbraith:

  We are regrettably forced to assess your estate for repossession, the purpose of which: to repay one Alexander Richardson due to default on a commission. Your debt is calculated at $2,015,321.93…

  She could not bring herself to read the rest. She handed it back. Her eyes burned. “I didn’t think anyone was alive,” she said.

  “Some biopures are naturally resistant to the Burning,” said Jaeger. “Like yourself, Mister Richardson is one of them. Civilization may be falling, but law and order must be maintained. Of course, he doesn’t know about the child. If you left, he would have to pay child support. Or, since you would be serving a prison sentence for fraud, he would probably have the child taken away from you after birth.”

  She ran her left hand over her right arm. “Then I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  “Is it such a terrible one?” he asked. “We’re giving you sanctuary, food, healthcare, and a chance to be with your son. Plus, while you’re inside, you’ll be able to create.”

  “If I let you implant a neural network.”

  He nodded. “Once it’s in, it will stay in. But it does need your conscious permission, or your brain will reject it.”

  She bet it did. “No,” she said. “I’ll go back in, but I don’t want to be jacked into your precious Sage.”

  “As you wish,” Jaeger said. “We want to observe you for twelve more hours before you return. In the meantime…” He keyed a few strokes on the tablet. She saw Matthew and Bananas chasing a ball through a grassy field.

  “You can talk to him through this,” he said. “As far as he knows, you’re assisting us with some E.C. business matters. We are keeping him entertained and educated.”

  “Educated?”

  “Look at him,” Jaeger said.

  She focused the pad on her son’s face. She wrapped her good arm around her chest. He looked like a boy of nine, maybe ten.

  “He’s aging so fast,” she said. She panned the view over to Bananas, and watched her chase a squirrel. The retriever still looked blissful, but her face no longer held the same vapid, idiotic gaze.