Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga

by Bertauski, Tony

  I kept my finger on this one as long as I could. Streeter pulled them down faster, sliding each one in place and barking at us to hold them tighter and longer. We had no more fingers left. Streeter paused to give the pieces extra time to stitch. When they were a shade darker, we let go and he started after more.

  “Halfway there,” he said.

  We took deep breaths and began again. It was getting stuffy. Buxbee’s lab must’ve been overheating. Streeter had most of our fingers occupied when the gray space trembled and two pieces crumbled from the shell.

  “They’re coming,” Streeter said.

  “What do you mean they’re coming?” I said.

  Streeter moved faster, with both hands, and brought two pieces down. “As soon as those things make contact with the portal, they could come through this ball right here.” He clicked the pieces in place. “We have to have this final shell done to keep them inside.”

  Distant thunder shook somewhere. “Why does it sound like they’re out there?” I said.

  “Focus, Socket!”

  Streeter hauled the pieces out faster then we could hold them. Chute used her chin on one of them. Three crumbled. Streeter had to stop adding pieces and help hold them until they stitched.

  “What’ll they do if they get here?” Chute said.

  He took the time to put two more pieces in place before answering. “Well, seeing as this isn’t finished, they’ll shatter the security shells, blow by us and roam free in virtualmode.” He flicked his eyes at me. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Secret Agent what they’ll do after that.”

  I pretended not to notice, like we needed to be focusing and not talking. But I didn’t know what they were going to do if they got free. I had one of those feelings there was a lot riding on getting this shell completed because the Paladins were out there fighting like it was life or death.

  “Will they come after us?” Chute asked.

  When I didn’t answer, Streeter said, “Probably not.”

  “Probably? What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know, it means probably. Maybe those things don’t care about us, they just want inside. Or…” He took a second to place a piece. “Or maybe they’ll be pissed off that we were trying to stop them and… you know.”

  “You know?” Chute’s fingers wiggled enough to shatter two pieces. Streeter started to say something, but Chute cut him off. “No, I don’t know!”

  Streeter took a deep breath and went back to concentrating. He should’ve been doing what I was doing, but now it was too late. The side of his head was getting a full-bore stare from Chute.

  “Chute,” I said. “Maybe you should get off, we’re almost done.”

  She turned the heat on me. “No. And don’t ask me that again.”

  Another disturbance rattled close by. We held the pieces tighter.

  “Hurry,” Chute whispered.

  “As fast as I can,” Streeter sang, grabbing two more pieces.

  “Why weren’t you grabbing two pieces to begin with?” she said.

  “This isn’t easy!” He shoved them in place. “I got to concentrate.”

  “But they’re coming,” she urged.

  “I KNOW THAT!” He stopped for a second to refocus, then retrieved two more pieces.

  The next disturbance vibrated through my sim. I felt that one. Maybe it was because the clamp was shutting down and I was getting back to normal, but the timeslice spark still wasn’t ready. Rudder wasn’t done. The look on Streeter and Chute’s faces meant they felt it, too.

  “Ten more,” Streeter said, huffing.

  “You can do it,” I said.

  Two more pieces locked in. The shell darkened. We had our fingers splayed out over as many pieces as we could hold.

  Kaaabooooom!

  The portal shuddered under our hands. We lost a piece.

  “Three more!” Streeter shouted. “Hold them!”

  The gray space transformed, swirling like fog, dense and grainy. Footsteps echoed under the distant thunder. Someone was out there, shoes clicking on a hard floor. I looked around, listening. There it was again! Footsteps echoed, closer this time. Was Streeter wrong? Were they coming in from somewhere else? Did they already get through another portal somewhere in the world and now they were coming to open this one?

  “WILL YOU CONCENTRATE?” Streeter shouted. “Only two more, just focus on these next two, all right?”

  “Chute, get off, now,” I said. “I can hold the rest. Get off.”

  “You can’t hold all the pieces. He’ll be done in a second and we can all get off.”

  Streeter pulled the final piece down, held it delicately over the last hole. Our fingers filled the gap, holding the last pieces in place. He waited with the last one, his chest heaving.

  “All right,” he said, quietly, “let them go.”

  We took our fingers out, holding our breath. The pieces trembled, but held. The shell went two shades darker. Streeter so carefully laid the last one over the gap and touched it with the tip of his finger, pushed it into place. The shell clicked and turned black.

  “There.” He exhaled so long his shoulders deflated. “The portal is locked.”

  KAAABOOOOOOM!

  The floor tilted.

  Chute dropped to her knees; Streeter teetered forward on the tips of his toes, windmilling his arms to keep his balance. I couldn’t stop the virtual giant from falling on top of the portal. He didn’t just graze it: he pushed it all the way to the floor, bounced on it and flopped on his back. The portal bounced back to its original position. It bobbed between us. We stood extra still, not even breathing, while the portal jiggled in place.

  A hairline fracture slithered across the black shell. Piece by piece, it crumbled until every single shell lay at Streeter’s feet. The portal glittered blue and white, bright as ever.

  A mechanical screech called from inside the portal, like a crystal ball playing the near future.

  EeeeeeeeeeeeieiiiiiIIIIIIIIIII!

  “They’re in,” Streeter said.

  “What now?” I said.

  “You’ve got powers, right?” Streeter said. “Fight them.”

  “FIGHT THEM?”

  “Aren’t you stronger, or something?”

  “Do you see a cape on my back?”

  “Those guys up there in the parking lot, they were disappearing and reappearing and slinging some badass weapons. You telling me you can’t do that?”

  “I’m not like that.” I don’t know what I am.

  “Streeter,” Chute said, “can we hide the portal somewhere else?”

  Streeter’s mouth contorted, about to shout his frustration, then stopped. “That just might…” He placed both hands over the portal, his lips moving, eyes closed. His muttering grew louder, like an enchantment and a clear shell wrapped around the portal, snapping shut.

  “That’s a basic security shell,” he said. “But it will buy us some time. I can set up transportation coordinates to an obscure website and take the portal with us. It’ll confuse them. They’ll find us, eventually, but it’ll give us a few minutes.”

  “How much time do we have?” I said.

  He shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

  “Guess.”

  “They’ll be looking for us in ten minutes, maybe twelve.”

  “Well, do it,” I said.

  He took the portal in his hands and closed his eyes, whispering new coordinates. The echoing footsteps started again. I circled Streeter, searching for the source. They grew louder.

  “Hurry, Streeter.”

  He muttered louder, not hearing me. Hands clenched in concentration, his fingertips denting the shell. Someone whispered my name. Socket. I jumped next to Streeter, hands up, knees bent. Chute beside me.

  A white, generic sim appeared out of the fog, its hands folded behind its back. It had no eyes, ears or nose. A slit opened, where a mouth would’ve been, imitating a smile.

  It said, “Salutations.”

  D I S C O V E
R Y

  False prophet

  “Broak?”

  “Indeed, it is.” His voice was distorted, hardly recognizable.

  “How’d he get here?” Streeter hid the portal, deftly concealing it behind his back.

  “My dear ogre friend, I’m sure you’re well aware of what would happen if the duplicates’ crawlers get through this portal. We want to be sure no one, or thing, has tampered with the security shells.” He kicked at shattered pieces and they rang on the end of his foot. “It appears I’m a tad late.”

  “They put you in charge?” I said.

  “They are a bit busy, as I’m sure you have noticed. The entire world is under attack, my dear Socket. The duplicates have launched a full-scale attack and I’m afraid we were caught, as you might say, with our trousers down.” His face twitched where eyebrows would normally be. “We are using every last resource to stave them off. It is the last stand, my friend. It just so happens I have come to help you protect this compromised portal security shell.” He looked down at the pieces again and held out his hand. “If you would’ve completed your assignment, you wouldn’t be in this mess, dear ogre. You have failed. I suggest you turn the security over to one more suitable.”

  “I don’t think so,” Streeter said.

  Broak tilted his head toward me. “Can you talk some sense into your friend? The world is at stake, you know.”

  “You tried to kill me, you piece of shit.” I rammed my hand around his neck, wedged my finger and thumb under his jawbone. He did not resist. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Pivot.”

  “Can we put that aside for now, dear Socket? There are greater issues before us than a street fight.”

  I threw him so far into the gray fog he almost disappeared. I wanted to break him in half, somehow reach through that sim and choke him, make his throat burn like mine did. Maybe I couldn’t beat his ass in a straight up fight, at least not until I got control of time again.

  “I can explain my actions.” Broak righted himself and folded his arms behind his back as he walked back. “It is difficult to understand my motivation, but if you give me a moment I will do so. However, do be reasonable, dear Socket. We do not have a moment to spare. If you grant me the portal, there will soon be time to explain everything. I beg of you.”

  Mechanical screeching called from inside the portal.

  “I am capable of a 200-cube security shell within five minutes,” he said. “I have the programming loaded in this sim and can secure it before it’s too late.”

  He took a step closer. Gray fog whooshed around our ankles, muffling his footsteps.

  “We have the technology. You have seen it yourself. Do the right thing and put our conflict aside. Can you do that?”

  The slit-mouth did not smile. The generic face had no expression. The world couldn’t afford for us to fail. They needed us. They needed the Paladins. They needed him. I had to admit it: Broak was more qualified than me. And that way, Chute and Streeter could get back to their skin.

  “There’s no time to debate this, I want the portal.” Broak took another step and our sims shifted into battle garb. Weapons unfolded on my hip. A battle stave materialized in Chute’s hand.

  “What’re you doing, Streeter?” Chute said. “We don’t need this stuff.”

  He looked at the nicked battleaxe dangling from the barbarian belt criss-crossing his chest, the studded war boots and spiked battle gloves. “The battle alert just triggered. There’s a threat nearby.”

  “I’m not going to ask again.” The slit-smile creased Broak’s face.

  “Streeter!” Chute cried.

  Broak unfolded his arms from behind his back. His fingers fused together like spears. He lunged like a swordsman, his arm plunging through Streeter’s stomach, the axe clattering away. Broak’s arm-sword slid all the way through Streeter, wrapping around the portal. In the next instant, he yanked it halfway through Streeter’s body.

  “Cut it!” Streeter grabbed Broak’s arm with both hands. “Cut his arm off!”

  I grabbed the evolver clubs from my belt. They unfolded and fused around my hands and forearms and I tried to focus on a weapon. So many of them jumbled in my head; I couldn’t concentrate. It happened too fast. I couldn’t take my eyes off the gaping wound in Streeter’s stomach spewing molten gray shit. Chute jabbed her battle stave at Broak’s face, but he caught it with his free hand.

  “Don’t make this mistake,” Broak hissed. “The world needs me to have this!”

  He yanked again and pulled Streeter toward him, but the virtual mass of the giant sim could not be taken down. Streeter resisted and they played tug-of-war, the portal half buried in Streeter’s spleen.

  “CUT THE GODDAMN ARM OFF!” Streeter yelled.

  I shook my head, closed my eyes and held my breath. An image formed and twin curved sabers emerged from my hands. Broak kicked my knee, breaking it backwards. Bones cracked and I went flying, but the tip of a saber caught his arm, severing it from Streeter. Broak tumbled, ripping the battle stave from Chute’s grip. His slit turned upside down. His arms flattened into edged blades.

  “I will clear the chaff,” he cried, getting to his feet and criss-crossing his executioner’s arms above his head, “before reaping the harvest!”

  He was too powerful. Too skilled. I managed to stand on one leg, but it was all I could do. He would cut me in half, send me back to the skin. The gleaming arms rose higher. I envisioned an evolver shield, but there was Chute. I would not leave her, even if it meant leaving the portal in his charge.

  A fat hand gripped my arm.

  The fog thickened, turned gray to black.

  I left.

  To the in-between.

  Walls built from out of the dark and surrounded us in a wood-paneled room. Stuffed heads of antelope and grizzly bear formed on the walls. A fireplace blazed. Broak was gone.

  “What happened?” Chute pushed the cowl off her face.

  Streeter lay sprawled on the floor, his head wedged against the couch. The glowing portal peeked from a gap in his stomach, and lit up his chest. Broak’s limp, white arm lay across him, fingers stuck in the portal’s shell.

  “I got news for you,” Streeter said. “Broak sucks ass.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him to his feet. “Don’t bother. He destroyed my spine. I don’t have time to rebuild it.” He pulled the portal out of his sucking guts, pushing back his intestines. He plucked Broak’s hand from the portal shell and tossed it against the wall where it smacked like a piece of wet liver. He handed the portal to me. “You’re going to have to take it.”

  Several more pieces of the basic shell fell away, exposing the bare portal beneath.

  “Make sure you don’t touch the portal directly,” Streeter said. “Buxbee always warned if the shells failed to never, ever touch it. He didn’t say why, he just warned us. But he also said the shells would never fail, so maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Chute looked out the cabin’s frosty window. “Is this the Rime?”

  “It was the first place I could find in my virtualmode history. I didn’t have a lot of time to evaluate locations. There was an arm in me at the time.”

  “But the Rime?” Chute turned on him. “They’re going to know we’re in here and then what?”

  “Hey, let me stick my fist through you and see how clearly you think.”

  “You’ve been back here, haven’t you? You’ve been hacking back into—” Chute ducked just as one of Streeter’s battle hatchets helicoptered over her head. It buried in the wall. I stopped her before she staked his head into the floor. She walked off counting out loud.

  “That guy wasn’t planning on protecting the portal, Socket,” Streeter said. “I don’t care what you say.”

  I didn’t know what Broak was doing. He was the Paladins’ darling, so maybe he had orders to protect it at all costs. After all, it wasn’t like he was trying to kill us, just our sims. But Streeter was right, there was something off, no need for s
uperpowers to see that. The guy was a head case, but he was up to something. I cradled the portal carefully, holding it up to my ear. The screeches echoed far away.

  “It might take them five minutes or so to figure out the portal is in the Rime,” Streeter said. “Virtually, this is a large world and that means it contains a lot of data. They’ll have to sort through it all to locate the portal, especially if you hide it somewhere. Find a waterfall—something with massive dataflow.”

  “What’re you going to do?” I asked.

  “Stay here, what else? You couldn’t carry me with a tank.”

  “I don’t like leaving you.” Chute was across the room, arms folded and fingers tapping. Poking him with her stave was one thing, but leaving him with those things was another.

  “It’s just a sim,” Streeter said. “I’ll build a new one.”

  “Yeah, but you said they might be able to hurt us.”

  He smashed his elbow through the wood floor, sending splinters up to the ceiling. “I’ll hide under the cabin, if that makes you feel better.”

  I dropped to my working knee, and helped him pull up the floor. “You sure about this?”

  “We don’t have a choice. You got to keep that portal safe as long as you can. Whatever you do, don’t let Whitey get it.” Streeter rolled from the floor onto the frozen ground beneath. “Head west, along the ridge. There’s a network of caves at the foot of the hills. Don’t ask how I know. Get lost and maybe they’ll never locate the portal.”

  The floorboards rebuilt themselves, dirty and scuffed, as though they’d been there the whole time. “GO!” Streeter’s muffled voice shouted through the floor.

  Chute watched me limp onto the porch. She took the portal from me and tucked it into a bag. We stopped at the edge of the weathered steps and looked up at the gray sky and blowing snow. Seems like just yesterday.

  “Maybe one of us should get back to the skin,” I said. “Maybe—”

  “Forget it,” Chute said. “I’m not leaving.”

  I clenched my fist, hoping I could timeslice, but the spark wasn’t bright enough. Face it, I was more like her than I was a Paladin. She tossed her lookits and they zipped into the trees. She loped down the hill like a deer, hit the trickling stream at the bottom and started up the other side, the pregnant sack bouncing off her leg. I followed, half-stepping with my left leg, the knee still not working. She slowed down just so I could catch up.