Caiden screamed and dove under the nearest tank, crawling as fast as he could through a tangle of hoses to get away from the thing. Mamoru stood his ground, watching it.
Jasden pointed with a shaking arm. “This is a secure area. It’ll give you ten seconds to run.”
“Jasden,” said Mamoru, gaze locked on the bot. “I need to speak to you. I need you to tell me where I can find Raziel.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” His voice rose to a near-screech.
An actuator creaked. Mamoru shimmered with energy, focusing power on strength and speed. The metal spider pounced, diving in relative slow motion. He slipped out from under it, putting one hand on its side to guide it face-first into the floor. It swiveled to bring its deadly mouthparts around to strike, but Mamoru leapt over it in a blur of fluttering black coat. Blades collided with a spine-twisting squeal as they passed.
Jasden whimpered, scrambling through his desk for something useful. “Shit… o-o-of course they s-send a doll.”
The bot lunged. Mamoru ducked under the blades and shoved the machine airborne with one arm. It seemed to hang in place for a few seconds as gravity reclaimed it. Mamoru grabbed one of its legs and swung it around, pounding it to the floor upside down. Bits of debris bounced away from the bot while damaged wireguides beneath it vomited sparks. Caiden yelped and shielded his face with an arm, coughing on the smoke of burnt silicon.
Mamoru maintained his grip on the flailing bot, and forced his will over the programming.
The Tarant squawked and beeped for a few seconds before its thrashing went still. One grey Myofiber bundle suffered a spasm, pulsating in the hollow channel along the underside of the leg. Mamoru stood, letting the robot right itself. Now calm, it rotated to face its former master, eight camera dots glowing red. Jasden shrieked, but not because of the spider.
“Drop it,” said Caiden, holding a knife to the technician’s throat from behind.
Jasden released his grip of a pistol, which fell with a thunk into a drawer. The boy kicked the drawer closed, but left his blade at the man’s neck.
“A-a-at least make the boy w-wait outs-s-s-ide.” Jasden cleared his throat. “He’s too young. He’ll b-break something.”
Caiden pulled the blade against his neck and snarled.
Sweat ran in streams down the technician’s face. If the sight of Mamoru throwing the thousand-pound spider around like a toy had not terrified him enough, a knife at his throat was the final nudge that reduced him to babbling incoherence.
Mamoru waved Caiden off. “A mutual friend tells me you can help me find Raziel. I do not have time for games. Your guard dog will begin destroying everything in here in thirty seconds.”
Caiden lowered his knife, folding the blade closed and backing away.
Jasden slumped forward on his elbows. “You can’t kill Raziel. He does so much for the movement. He’s a good man.”
Confusion took hold of Mamoru, though it did not show. “Raziel has information vital to me. I seek to reclaim honor that I believe he stole. A ‘good man’ would not be responsible for what was done to me.”
“You’re wrong,” whined Jasden, on the verge of tears. “Raziel doesn’t do mercenary work. He watches over Mars.” The spider bot pivoted to face the nearest tank. Vibro-blades switched on. A sonic presence beyond the edge of hearing made the air feel strange. “Please don’t. Is your ‘honor’ worth punishing the citizens of Araphel?”
“Dustblow.” Caiden slapped Jasden over the back of the head. “You don’t feed Araphel. They’re starving out there… eating rats.”
“We donate our extra every m-month. Ask B-Boris at the Last Resort.”
“Their fate is in your hands,” said Mamoru.
“All right, fine… Promise you won’t hurt him?”
Mamoru shook his head. “His fate will be decided by his own choices.”
Jasden gnawed on his fingers, shaking as the spider ambled up to the first growth chamber. It leaned its weight back in anticipation of a lunge.
“Couple million credits ‘bout to hit the floor of… what is that, tuna?” asked Caiden.
“Wait!” yelled Jasden. “Fine.”
“Ma-te,” said Mamoru, barking Japanese at the bot.
The Tarant froze in place.
Whimpering, the scientist fell back in his chair, rigid and with the vacant eyes of a corpse, head to the side. “He lives near the core, several levels under the main city center. There are tunnels below that hold wires, pipes, and sewer lines. The entrance is near the Hollow, where they fight for money. At the south end, you will find a shaft once used to carry a service elevator to the reactor level before dolls replaced the crews.” He tried to rub guilt off his face. “Sublevel 7. I don’t have the codes.”
Jasden shuddered. He raised his hands. “Please. I don’t―”
“I do not need codes.” Mamoru rendered a half-bow. “You have been most helpful.”
He spun on his heel and headed for the exit at a brisk pace, ignoring the hundreds of dog-sized robotic spiders littered around the ceiling shifting to watch him pass. Caiden slipped the knife back into his jacket pocket and stepped over wires on his way to catch up.
Mamoru stopped at the door long enough to shout “Modosu” over his shoulder before continuing out.
The bot collapsed, and beeped as if it had rebooted itself. The sound of the Tarant racing toward them with raised weapons cut out as the door hissed closed.
In the Presence of Angels
louds of steam rolled through the narrow confines of the subterranean tunnels, carrying the bountiful scent of chem-treated sewage. Patches of dark ooze slid in rivulets down the walls, coating everything in a glistening layer of greasy slime. Mamoru walked through the center of a passage wide enough for a loader cart, ignoring the dozen or so offshoots barely able to accommodate a single man’s width.
Pipes and hoses of various diameters lined the ceiling and walls, some labeled, others cracked and leaking. Caiden kept his shirt over his mouth and nose with one hand, waving the other arm for balance as he avoided stepping in or on anything suspicious. Even Mamoru coughed after several minutes in the eye-watering stench.
“I thought angels, like, lived in Heaven or something,” mumbled Caiden. “I think we’re going in the wrong direction.”
Abandoned boxes and barrels littered the main corridor, evidence of the occasional maintenance project. From the look of it, none of it had been touched in several years. Careful not to disturb anything, he weaved through the junk in search of the old elevator Jasden mentioned.
At the end of a quarter mile hike, the damaged doors of his objective emerged from the darkness ahead: one tilted at an angle, the other stuck half open. Caiden ducked through the triangular hole, peering down. Unable to resist the urge, he gathered a wad of spit and let it fall. Mamoru chuckled at the echo. Both remained silent for several seconds until the distant sound of impact came back up the shaft.
“That’s pretty deep,” said Caiden, backing away from the door. “There’s a ladder on the right. Are you gonna cut the doors out so you can fit?”
“A katana is not a utility knife. It is a sacred weapon those who cross me should feel privileged to taste.”
Mamoru put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pulled him back a few steps before grasping the angled plastisteel slab. A low growl came from his throat as he concentrated on strength. Energy flared along his arms, deepening the shadows in their vicinity. His face twisted with a determined frown and his body shuddered. Bare fingers dimpled metal, drawing forth squeals of stress.
Caiden stared in awe.
With a shout, Mamoru pulled, tearing the door off its rails and flinging it into the shaft. The mangled metal sheet bounced away from the wall, trailing loose wires, and fell. A series of thunderous crashes reverberated out of the darkness, ending with an even louder whump as it landed flat. Mamoru swayed against the wall, out of breath and sweating.
Caiden gulped. A
doration shared space with fear in his eyes. “Uh, whoa.”
“That… was quite tiring.”
“You got limbs?”
Mamoru gave him an unamused smirk. “Of course.”
“No, I mean metal ones. ‘Ware.”
“I do not.” Mamoru let his head sag forward, nauseated by the flavor of the air he gulped.
“You’re like… as strong as a damn doll or something.”
“Only…” He wheezed. “Only for a short time.”
Mamoru’s breaths remained heavy for several minutes. The elevator shaft grew cloudy with a cloud of silt and dust. Once he gathered a second wind, he straightened out and filled his lungs as he stretched the fatigue out of his arms. Caiden had taken another step back and busied himself trying to make sense of grime-covered writing on a wire conduit.
“Ready to climb?”
The boy glanced over and down. “Okay.”
“Making myself that strong takes great concentration and leaves me tired. Not only must I increase my strength, I must also reinforce my body so I do not crush my own bones. Concentrating on both at once is not a power I can call on in a flash of anger. Do not fear―”
“It’s not you…” Caiden crept towards him. “I was thinking about what you said, about people that are after you.” He stared at his boots. “I guess that’s why.”
“Mmm.”
Caiden stared at his sneakers. Mamoru stepped on the ladder first, and descended. Apart from loose pipes and sparking wires dislodged by the falling door, the six-story climb offered no complications. An elevator cab rested at the bottom, crushed like an enormous synthbeer canister under the door, which had bent on impact. Mamoru climbed down the twisted metal and kicked through what remained of the exterior doors on that level. The boy crept down and slipped past him, raising his arm. Darkness beckoned, flecked with silver wherever metal reflected the feeble glow of Caiden’s e-lantern.
A patch of red light faded in, the upper left corner of a holo-pane struggled into existence as its emitter sensed their approach. Zaps and arcs burst from the projector as it created an image resembling a sheet of glass shattered from a gunshot at its center. Enough remained to discern it as a radiation warning. Mamoru surveyed black wire-bundles running in serpentine tentacles along the ceiling of a twenty-meter long corridor. The tubes lent an organic quality to the walls. Coupled with the crimson glow, it seemed as if they trod a passage to Hell.
Mamoru ignored the warning and the ominous atmosphere, advancing with one hand on his blade. Caiden hovered close behind, jumping when another holo-panel opened without warning. A blaring voice, garbled beyond understanding, caused him to grab Mamoru’s arm. The boy shied away from it, pressed against his side as they passed the unintelligible shouting. Were it not for the out of control tubes and wires that did not seem to be part of the original construction here, the aperture at the end of the corridor would’ve been wide enough for a prowler.
At the end of the corridor, Mamoru touched a glossy onyx panel by a heavy bulkhead door. Ten white holographic zeroes floated in midair, warped by a two-pixel tall band of left shift that scrolled up from the bottom in a loop. Caiden raised the lamp over his head, examining the wall where dozens of wires emerged from beneath a bent section of metal. Mamoru shoved a mental feeler through the electronics. After a minute, zeroes remained on the screen, but the door opened.
A thin strip of mirror-polished plastisteel formed a serpentine path among a tangle of countless segmented hoses. The open walkway led to a cone-shaped protrusion of technology at the center of an immense, round chamber. Panels of violet, white, and orange light moved around it as if sliding on invisible circular rails. The counter-rotating holograms progressed in precise increments, creeping millimeters at a time, stopping, and then racing about. Their animation gave Mamoru the impression of an ancient computer drive stuck in an endless seek routine. Thousands of wires varying in size from finger-width to as big as a man’s thigh draped in loops from the ceiling, all glistening black.
At the center of it all, angled plastisteel shards collected in the shape of a twenty-foot metal obelisk, as if the will of a mad god had drawn them forth from the ground and formed them in place. Every seam and gap glowed white, pulsing to the rhythm of the machine.
Dwarfed by its size, a man hovered near the top, arms outstretched. Waist-length black hair hung from the hood of a white robe. Enormous wings spread from the figure’s back, silver metal struts etched with dark circuit lines bore stylized feathers of violet light too intense for a direct stare. Wire bundles connected at the joints, shifting as the wings flexed. The entire assembly crackled with power and the thrum of machinery.
The room filled with a voice so deep it vibrated through the ground.
“Greetings, Mamoru Saitō. I have been expecting you.”
The wings stretched to their full thirty foot span, the glowing shard-feathers brightened with a painful brilliance. Pale amethyst energy pulses collected along their length and slid inward until they vanished at the figure’s back. With a resonant mechanical thrum, the great appendages swung upwards until the leading edges came together above his head. The struts became long, metal arms that lowered him to his feet. Caiden shielded his eyes as the searing violet feathers drew closer.
Raziel reached to his chest, pressing his palm at the center of a black metal vest striped with glowing cyan. With a click and a hiss, he detached and stepped free of his wings, standing a shade less than seven feet tall, clad in a flowing robe trimmed with gold. The angel pulled back his hood, revealing a face as white as a Marsborn. Four thin strips of metal flickering with blue lights angled across his each cheek. He lifted his head, gazing down on Mamoru with eyes like holes peering into the furnace of a violet sun―no iris, no whites, only radiance. The sight stunned the concept of words out of Mamoru’s brain, leaving him staring.
Caiden ducked behind Mamoru, risking a peek around his side.
The strange man adopted a regal posture as angel’s wings of gleaming silver shimmered into being from thin air, chasing a wireframe outline of blue until they looked solid and real. Holographic feathers fluttered in a breeze that did not exist.
“Something’s not right,” whispered Caiden. “He feels creepy.”
“Tell me why you have dishonored me.” Mamoru stood his ground.
Raziel brought his hands together and bowed. “You have been misled. It is true that I have visited the GlobeNet shadow realm of Matsushita Electronics, though my goal was to obtain information to assist the liberators.”
Mamoru took a step closer, dragging Caiden. “Right after your visit, Minamoto-heika disavowed me. What did you show him?”
“You elevate a man that would own you, calling him ‘highness?’ I find that most interesting.” Raziel paced to the right, as if gathering his thoughts. His ethereal wingtip brushed Mamoru without effect. “Akio Minamoto regarded you as nothing more than a tool. To him, you are a powerful weapon to wield until you are of no further use. He has discarded you with no more thought than a broken handgun. My influence is not responsible for his change of opinion.”
“You appeared in my home, trying to tempt me away from him. When I refused, you connected to the majordomo’s terminal.”
“I have a question for you now, Mamoru. Do all who bear katana serve the same master?”
“Only a fool would assume such a thing.”
Raziel glanced back with a hint of a smile. “Indeed. As is assuming any avatar with wings is mine.”
“How many avatars with wings originate from Mars? How many others are there who can infiltrate Earth networks from here?”
“Falsifying route uplink paths is novice work. It is all ones and zeroes in a header stream. If I wanted to conceal my entry, I would make the intrusion appear to have come from an internal terminal, or bounced through a dozen different countries.” Raziel faced him, star-eyes widening. “If I wished to hide from you, why would I lead you right to Mars?”
Mamoru sq
uinted, weighing the logic of it. “You did not lead me anywhere. I found your true route because I am one with the system. Your masking techniques would fool an operator, but I am no mere deck jockey.”
“You still control a deck, Mamoru. Some of the laws of cyberspace do apply, even if you are too stubborn to notice. I am aware of your nature. Why do you think Minamoto had your parents killed?”
White light shimmered along Mamoru’s arms. He lunged forward, katana moving from sheath to strike in the span of an eye blink. He froze, blade outstretched having touched nothing. Raziel had vanished, his motion indiscernible even to Mamoru’s accelerated perception.
“Your emotions get the better of you,” said Raziel.
The sound drew Mamoru’s gaze up. The angel hovered twenty meters in the air above him, holographic wings outstretched in a casual flapping rhythm.
Caiden gawked, pointing. The effect of moving wings seemed to mesmerize the boy.
Mamoru glared. “You know nothing of my parents.”
Raziel circled, ionic downblast from thrusters in his vest sent thin blue sparks spidering along his robe. “The man you regard as father was not your biological parent, Mamoru. The woman you know as Mother did provide half of your genetic material, however, they were employees of Eisei Pharmaceuticals who volunteered for the project to create you.”
Knuckles creaking on the rubber-coated handle, Mamoru angled his katana towards the floor. Caiden offered a sympathetic stare. Burning rage faded to longing as memories swam through his mind. He brought the sword up, resting the tip on his finger at the scabbard’s mouth before sliding it in. Mother was pleasant to him, but doted on his sister. Father was harsh, but fair. He needed training. Father spoiled sister. Scene after scene played through his head, scattered memories from those brief ten years: the nagging want for approval, the way they looked at him. His little sister seemed to have genuine love for him, the parents… His brain found truth in the thought of being an outsider.
Mamoru stared past his shaking fist at the floor. “Are you another demon seeking to destroy me?”
Grey Ronin (The Awakened Book 3) Page 22