I’d also changed my hair color slightly, making it more red, if a darker, almost-black-with-metallic-red-highlights kind of red. Revik dyed his a pale, ash blond, so that it was closer to the color of Uye’s, which yeah, looked strange on him, but still pretty hot.
We wore contact lenses in addition to the prosthetics, and blood patches on all of the areas they were most likely to draw our blood in a race-cat check.
Revik even wore prosthetics on his back to cover his scars and tattoos, since the scars, at least, were rare enough among seers to garner attention. I also had prosthetics covering my sword and sun tattoo, since I wore it in an unusual place for seers––as well as the one Ditrini gave me, since that wasn’t a standard tat, and might be remembered.
We’d both try to pass as human in Dubai, given the option, but we had no idea what we’d be facing on the other side, or if there might be some reason why either of us might have to take off our clothes. Revik couldn’t do anything about his cock, not without surgery, and if they decided to X-ray either of us, obviously they’d know what we were, so we were prepared to switch out blood patches and travel as seers, if the need arose.
We couldn’t do anything about our height, collectively or separately.
They did teach me to walk differently, to throw off any gait recognition software on the docks or in other parts of the city. From what our scouts told us, the place was a “pristine fortress” (Stanley’s words), or a “well-decorated prison camp” (Surli’s description). We were warned to expect military-grade surveillance pretty much everywhere.
Our scouts also did some preliminary research on our main target, the mystery collector of List seers. He turned out to be a bit of a local bigwig, which shouldn’t have surprised me given the size of his purchase orders in Macau alone. We were warned his personal properties (and his person) would be protected by extensive private security, in addition to that for Dubai.
One kind-of surprise: he was Chinese, from the Forbidden City apparently.
Less surprising, he was seer.
He was also an infiltrator, so likely ex-Lao Hu.
He had a strange name, even for a seer: Dalcius Dontan, a name that meant nothing to Surli, despite all his years working for the Chinese. There was some speculation it was an alias, which meant his whole background might be made up, too.
It was unusual for a seer to own other seers––particularly a Chinese seer, since most Chinese humans didn’t even believe in enslaving seers––but maybe that was part of Menlim’s brave new world. This Dontan guy apparently owned seer fetish clubs all over Dubai City, along with a number of strip clubs, high-end restaurants, and four-star hotels.
Shadow was rumored to have a palatial residence himself, just outside the main walls of Dubai City, filled with droves of seers and human slaves. He and Dontan appeared to be on dinner-guest terms, which was a bit worrisome until Surli told us Menlim entertained all of the heavy hitters among the Emirate’s populace.
Of course, Menlim didn’t go by “Shadow” here, or even Menlim.
He went by a human name, Jacobus Laningdale, which meant nothing to me, but made Revik grimace when he heard it. I saw a frown touch Balidor’s lips as well, although no one spoke aloud while we listened to Surli’s transmission.
When I gave Revik a questioning look, he just shook his head. I felt the darker thread of irony in his light, and a flicker of disgust, too.
It’s from a book, is all he said.
What book?
He gazed around at the others sitting at the table, shaking his head. Before your time. It doesn’t matter, Allie.
Balidor told me later it was the name of a fictional character who proposed wiping out billions of people using a weaponized disease. The book was popular a few decades following First Contact, and while the book hadn’t spelled out seers as the alien race being depicted, many who read it assumed he’d been talking about seers.
It ignited a lot of controversy as a result. It also became the “bible” of some anti-seer groups, especially after World War II.
When I asked Revik about it that night, he told me Menlim would find the name ironic. Apparently he was big on using scriptural names during the First World War, as well as literary references from obscure texts––references very few people would catch. According to Revik, even the name “Menlim” had some meaning from non-canon versions of the seer myths. The original Menlim was a semi-mythical seer sorcerer credited by some with causing the Second Displacement via dark magics he’d visited upon the old Sarhacienne king.
I admit, details like that unnerved me––partly because they allowed me to see into Menlim’s mind more than I really wanted, but mainly because they reminded me how closely Revik had been tied to Menlim all those years.
Revik actually knew him.
Menlim had practically been a father to him.
Fighting not to think about that now, and the risk we were taking, letting Revik anywhere near a construct of the Dreng, I felt my face tighten underwater.
I adjusted my goggles as I tried to push the worry out of my mind.
Turning in the water, I looked at Revik where he floated next to me in the dark silence of the pre-dawn ocean. I knew our suits would hide any residual body heat, well enough to keep us from being noticed by passing infrared scans, but I still felt weirdly exposed, maybe just because there was nothing around us for miles but water.
In addition to infrared, virtual capability and GPS, the goggles had small transmitters we were only to use in case of emergencies––meaning, if we needed to be picked up because we got ID’d, or something went wrong and we couldn’t get into Dubai at all.
For now, we switched off everything but the infrared, relying on hand signals to communicate, which were somewhat imprecise, given where we were.
I heard the ship long before I saw it, and well before Revik began signaling to me with his hands. Even so, I followed the motion of his fingers via the infrared.
Get ready, he gestured smoothly, if slower than usual. The window is small.
I nodded, watching as he checked the harness holding us together. He’d hooked the thing onto my belt and a pair of rings attached to a second harness I wore around my chest. I knew it was a nervous tic for him to be checking it now, since we’d already each done it twice, but I just floated there, letting him check the rigging all over again anyway.
Once he’d done that, he checked the rigging holding the penguin to his own suit.
By the time he’d finished, the sound was getting louder.
The boat chewed inexorably through water, at first south of us, and then, when we positioned ourselves for the connect, it began to pass over us, too. By then, I could see the long line of metal and the white wake stretching in a line behind it.
I watched Revik aim the harpoon-like gun, or “penguin,” as Wreg and Dante called it. They’d been the masterminds in rigging that thing up, so I guess they got to name it, too. It was based on a combat pick-up Wreg had used with helicopters in the past, modified by Dante to work underwater.
Revik and I both practiced with it on the deck, as well as in the water by the ship.
For this part of things, I was just back up, though.
Only one person needed to fire the thing.
I’d been warned it had a good kick, big enough to get picked up by sonar, if they had their machines calibrated finely enough. Even so, I flinched when Revik fired it, and panicked when a fleet of organic flyers (swimmers?) came at us from the belly of the ship, presumably to check out what we were.
Wreg and Dante planned for that, too.
The gun sent out two hard pulses of interference, meant to confuse the sonar of the flyer/swimmers into thinking we were something other than what we were––another ingenious enhancement by Dante. It must have worked, because all six of the little machines I saw buzzing towards us went around us and then past us, descending deeper into the dark water.
In the very long-feeling seconds that ticked by af
ter they did, I felt a sharp jolt as the magnetic bolt hit the back of the ship, well above where the propellers churned a good twenty feet deeper under the surface.
The cord coiled for a moment in the water, not moving.
Even with the harness, Revik gripped my arm as soon as the mechanism caught.
The line went taut, then began pulling us swiftly up through the water.
Dante had done something to the line so that once it hit, the first thing it did was to pull the line horizontal, before it started bringing us towards the ship. She’d done that to keep us from being dragged into the propellers, but also so we could hide in the turmoil caused by the wake, in the event her interference pulses didn’t work on the sonar swimmers.
Either way, the first thing I felt was a pull in my gut as the cable dragged us up, not forward, bringing us level with where Revik aimed the blunt end of the dart at the midpoint of the stern.
The line brought us directly into the turmoil of the wake.
Only then did I realize just how intense the wake of a big ship really was.
I lowered my head, like Wreg and Revik instructed me to do, partly so I wouldn’t lose my goggles. Gripping the regulator in my teeth so I wouldn’t get that torn out of my mouth as well, I fought to keep from struggling, even as I felt another sickening lurch as the cable started to pull us towards the ship. I felt Revik react to the slight panic in my light, gripping me in his hands as the cable yanked us swiftly through the water, only about five yards under the surface.
It hit me for real, that we were doing this. We were going into Dubai.
I pushed the thought from my mind, gasping and clenching my teeth over the regulator at the speed of the retracting line. I saw Revik look at the distance gauge on the winch––
Right before we smacked into the back of the ship.
We hit hard enough, it halfway knocked the wind out of me.
I gasped as Revik coiled his arm around my waist, holding me protectively against the ship’s stern as he looked down at the main propeller.
The thing looked huge through the infrared, and pretty scary.
It also looked too damned close, even though I’d seen exactly where Revik hit the ship with the dart, and knew we were well out of its range.
On the plus side, the churn from the wake wasn’t an issue where we were now.
We floated in a strange pocket of quiet, protected by the thrust of the ship through the water. The side wakes started somewhere above us, meeting in the middle at least a dozen yards out from the stern of the ship. The churn from the propellers rose up as bubbles well behind us as well, since we hung directly above them.
Revik sent a pulse of warmth to me, to my chest.
I felt the reassurance there, and realized I was still gasping, fighting a fear reaction. Feeling his concern, I forced my breathing back to normal, or as close as I could get, if only so I wouldn’t screw up my oxygen intake and make myself sick.
We just huddled there, not trying to talk, not even with our hands.
Instead we held on to one another, and waited for the ship to reach shore.
48
BRAVE NEW WORLD
I FELT IT, as soon as we passed through the membrane of the construct around Dubai.
I could tell by his tightening hands and fingers on me that Revik felt it, too.
Combat construct shields would do us no good in here, at least for regular walking around. Stanley and Surli told us they’d just get us spotted faster, given the density and pervasiveness of the construct. Our only option was regular infiltration shielding––like what seers used in the day-to-day––coupled with the light cloaks.
More than anything, we had to protect ourselves by staying out of the Barrier.
The more intense, combat-level shielding would be for when we had absolutely no choice but to use the Barrier. If that happened, we’d likely be ID’d by the construct in minutes, if not seconds.
Right now, we couldn’t even use individual shields.
Instead we were basically holding our breaths, hoping not to be seen. I dared not shield us at all, in case they picked up on the aleimic signature and decided to zero in on our location.
I kept a close eye on Revik’s light as the construct fell down over both of us, molding around our light and the aleimic projections we used to try and disguise the more telling aspects of our identities. I didn’t notice any difference between how that happened to Revik and how it happened to me.
Like every construct of the Dreng I’d encountered, it cut my breath just how insidious those threads of light really were. It was like watching water splash over rocks covered in tiny fissures, filling every microscopic cut and opening. I couldn’t track the extent of that penetration until it was already too late––and I doubted the vast majority of seers would ever notice how deeply that light wove into theirs.
Humans, of course, would be completely at the construct’s mercy.
Not panicking over the reality of that construct ended up being the hardest thing for me to breathe through. It built a claustrophobic reaction in my chest and belly that had Revik caressing my arms and back and chest through the fabric of the wet suit.
I did the same to him, even as we kept our lights more or less to ourselves.
As we hung there, holding each other, I watched the construct possess both of us in methodical increments, sliding through openings and shadows in our lights so tiny I felt my nerves worsen as I watched them appear and disappear.
I didn’t get the sense the construct recognized us, though––or ID’d us.
Also, Revik dealt with it really well.
Being so close to him, I could feel his fear.
I felt him control that fear, breathing evenly through his respirator as he hung next to me. I felt all the meditation he’d been doing with Jon kick in, felt his light go utterly still as he consciously quieted his mind.
Watching him, I decided I’d join them on that meditation kick of theirs, when and if we got out of this.
More than anything, the construct appeared to be marking us.
Once it finished doing that, I felt it turn to its next function, namely, to gradually––mechanically almost––begin to twist our mental framework to be compatible with the reality the construct projected. Again, the shifts were subtle, incremental, and integrated seamlessly into the workings of our own minds.
They were all the more unnerving for those very reasons.
I knew that layer of the construct functioned to create a kind of “groupthink” inside the construct’s boundaries. Certain realities would feel inevitable, as self-evident as natural law. Most would agree on philosophical or ideological points within the Dreng construct without noticing that they did. Thus, the construct created a layer of delusion, and thus control.
I felt it as pressure around my light. I suspected that was my aleimi fighting back as the construct tried to force it down more rigid and narrow lines.
A memory rose of that seer, Ivy, and how she’d twisted my reality completely out of its normal parameters on the cruise ship. She’d been my first encounter with an agent of Shadow.
She’d done it fast––in a matter of seconds.
Of course, I’d been pretty defenseless back then, but the reminder was still sobering.
By the time the ship began to slow, I’d more or less found a balance inside those metallic strands. It wasn’t a comfortable balance, but I didn’t feel completely lost there, either.
Only then did I look at Revik, using the infrared.
To say he looked tense was an understatement.
I didn’t dare use my light to try and reassure him, so I used seer sign language, motioning towards him with the hand I wasn’t using to grip his shoulder.
It’s okay. We’re okay. Right? In and out.
He nodded, smiling faintly through the regulator.
Tell me if you get targeted for real, I reminded him, still signing with my hands. Let me shield you. Don’t try to do
it yourself, okay?
I thought I saw a faint eye-roll through his goggles that time. That impression was confirmed when he motioned back.
No shit, wife, he answered, using the less formal version of hand signals.
I fought not to laugh, but he gripped hold of me tighter.
I felt fear in the way he held me, but I didn’t know how to help him with that, either. Nor did I blame him. What we were doing was pretty fucking stupid, actually.
Revik must have felt some of that, because he laughed, exuding bubbles.
It was growing dark overhead.
I looked up, confused at first. Hearing the difference in sound a few seconds later, and how it echoed underwater, I relaxed. The ship was entering one of the indoor docks.
We had to get ready to move.
Revik motioned with his hand. I followed his fingers via the infrared.
Looks like we’re on the north side. Middle dock. Going to be harder to get to the cleared area without being seen.
I nodded.
It’ll be okay. He gave me another half-smile through the regulator, massaging my shoulder through the wetsuit. You’re a good swimmer, right?
I did my best to smile back.
Maybe in part to distract myself, I returned my focus to our light, trying to get a sense of our impact on the construct without reaching out, or doing anything to make us visible to any infiltrators who might be working the port.
I still felt tendrils worming deeper into my light––and, more worryingly, into Revik’s––but I also felt the construct was designed to do that very thing.
So far, it seemed to be treating us like anyone else.
Revik pulled me out of my mono-focus right as the engines shut off, bringing the propellers to a final, grinding halt below us.
While the sound of more distant machinery continued to echo through the water, everything grew weirdly quiet without the deafening sound of the propellers. I just floated there for a few seconds next to Revik, fighting to adjust.
Then Revik pushed me lightly with his hands, indicating for me to head to the starboard side of the ship, where it rested against the dock. I realized only then that he’d already unbuckled both of us from the harnesses holding us to one another and the penguin.
Prophet: Bridge & Sword Page 50