Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 7)

by James Hunter

  “A-Gunner automatically assumes bridge,” Vlad replied confidently. “Secondary interface console is not so expansive but will do job in a pinch. If A-Gunner goes offline, engineer takes command. Should engineer abdicate, tower will become temporarily immobile. Various weapon systems will revert to manual—all control return to siege crews. Is not a problem.”

  “And if I understand correctly,” Osmark said, a thoughtful expression on his face, “there are two more of these.” He stuck two fingers into the air.

  “Oui,” Enzo said, ashing his cigarette, which had burned almost down to a nub. “The Crimson Hammer will be piloted by Jack and his own hand-picked crew. Another, the Imperial Blade, is en route for Oxrus.”

  “Third, the Phoenix, is bound for Einnheimr,” Vlad finished before Enzo could steal all his thunder. “Rigs will be in place within a few hours.”

  “We are just waiting for the final order to load,” Enzo said, giving Osmark a sidelong glance. “Then, we can attack at will.”

  “Excellent work, the two of you,” Osmark crowed, more excited and alive than I’d seen him in ages. “I’ve seen some impressive feats of engineering in my days, but this certainly takes the cake—especially considering the time frame you had to work in. Now,” he said, facing the War Council, “are there any questions for our noble engineers?”

  “Yes, I have one,” Caius said, still grumpy from getting burned a few minutes before. “We’re assuming Lord Grim Jack should pilot this machine, but isn’t that the type of thing the Council should have a say in? And furthermore, who will operate the other two machines? There is a significant investment of Imperial resources, after all, and it would be irresponsible for us not to properly vet whoever it is we are entrusting these weapons of war to.”

  “Exactly what I need to speak with Jack about,” Osmark replied primly, folding his hands. “Now if that will be all, Enzo, please escort our guests out and see them safely back to the camp’s Mystica Ordo. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. Final rallying orders will be dispatched shortly.”

  “If this has to do with the invasion plan, I think we have a right to stay,” Caius said, pouting.

  “That’s it, ya Imperial wanker!” Captain Raginolf boomed, marching across the floor and grabbing the senator by the ear. Impressive, considering their relative height differences. “Ah’ve had as much of your disrespectful, insubordinate tongue as Ah can handle! Out with ya!” He lurched into motion, dragging the whining senator from the room like a misbehaving toddler. “We’ll see ya on the battlefield, Grim Jack,” he called over his shoulder. “Time to spill some blood, eh!” He peeled off along with his two lieutenants, leaving the command room behind.

  Inside Job

  THE REST OF THE WAR Council departed in a much more dignified fashion after a muttered round of goodbyes. Only a handful of Council members lingered behind: Sandra and Jay on the Imperial side, and Abby, Cutter, Amara, Otto, Vlad, and Anton from the Alliance. I folded my arms and took a moment to absorb everything as the click-clack of departing bootheels faded. The enormous war room felt oddly empty with only the ten of us inside.

  “Good riddance,” Osmark said dryly, once the room was emptied of outsiders. “Honestly, if there’s one thing I’m looking forward to when this is all said and done, it’s that I’ll likely never see that bunch again.”

  “Agreed,” Sandra said, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “I swear if I hear Caius open his mouth one more time—just one—I’m going to have him waterboarded. I know at least a few spec ops guys who made the transition that could do it without batting an eyelid.”

  Jay rolled his eyes. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he said. “We’re never gonna get rid of that turdbag. Dude’s gonna be crawling all over our asses for the next fifty years—especially after all the money we spent on these things,” he said, glancing up at the arched ceiling, then turning his flat gaze on the diamond-glass window. “Him and the whole Imperial Senate.”

  “Good thing I don’t care at all about what the Senate thinks,” Osmark replied with a chipper grin. “Besides, if everything works out according to plan, Caius will be someone else’s problem before much longer. Or, perhaps, Thanatos will just have mercy on us all and kill him. And speaking of death by Overmind, it’s time we go over the final arrangements before we launch,” he continued, turning toward me and Abby, standing hand in hand. His lips quirked into a slight smile as his eyes skipped over the diamond hugging Abby’s ring finger. He shot me a quick wink—so fast I almost could’ve imagined it—then forged on without mentioning a thing.

  “So, this is it, then,” he said. “The eve of battle. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure we’d make it this far, but here we are.” He spread his hands. “And I’d even say there’s a fair to even money chance we’ll take the Necropolis. These siege weapons are certainly more impressive than I’d imagined, which, incidentally, brings us to the first logistical question on the agenda. Who is going to pilot them? Obviously, Jack will be in this rig, and I plan to helm the Imperial Blade, but that still leaves us with a third rig. Any suggestions?”

  “Abby or Sandra?” I replied, eyeing both women in turn. Either would be more than capable, and though I didn’t particularly like Sandra, I knew I could trust her implicitly to accomplish any mission Osmark gave her. She was ruthless and dangerous, but at the moment she was also on our side.

  “Unfortunately no,” Sandra said bluntly. “I plan on shadowing Osmark during the mission. We’re too close to the endgame now, and we can’t afford for something to go wrong. Not after everything else we’ve gone through to get here.”

  “She’ll be my acting A-Gunner,” Osmark elaborated, “and I plan to bring Enzo on as my engineer. Jay”—he waved at the Blood Monk—“is going to be my floor commander and raid leader once we breach the walls. I was assuming you would have Abby close by,” he said after a drawn-out beat, “but if you won’t be utilizing her as an A-Gunner, I’m certainly open to her being the third pilot.”

  Sandra sniffed and glared at Abby, disapproval in every line of her body. “Well, I suppose if there is literally no one else,” she said, tone cool and clipped, “then the Firebrand could work. She certainly has a knack for getting in the way. Maybe this time that will actually work in our favor.”

  “Bitch,” Abby muttered softly under her breath.

  “Now is not the time or the place to air old grievances,” Osmark said, sharing a look with both Sandra and Abby. “Besides, I think if Jack and I can put aside our differences to work for a common cause, you and Ms. Hollander can do the same, Sandra.”

  “Of course, Robert,” she replied, straightening her back and casually adjusting her snug-fitting leather jacket.

  “So, Jack?” Osmark said, pinning me in place with his unwavering attention. I could almost hear the unspoken accusation echoing beneath his question. Are you sure this is for the best? This will be dangerous. There’s still time to push her away. It’s the safest thing to do for her. “What will it be?” he asked.

  Everyone was silent, looking at me. Including Abby. Did I want her close by? Of course I did. I wanted her safe. I envisioned holding hands with her as we watched our kids scamper and squeal on the sea of verdant grass. That was the future we were working for—and she had a right to fight for it just as much as I did. Besides, there was also no one else I trusted more with a mission like this. She’d proven herself a thousand times over. She’d earned a spot on that third rig, and I couldn’t take that away from her.

  “This isn’t my call. Abby, it’s up to you,” I said. “You interested? The Phoenix sounds like it was custom made for you anyway.”

  “Am I interested in driving around a medieval Voltron?” She replied with a smile, nearly bouncing on her toes. “There has never been a stupider question on the planet.” She faltered, her smile slipping just a hair. “But only if you’ll be my A-Gunner, Otto,” she said to the Risi warrior, who stood quiet and somber, hands folded behind his back. “We�
��ve come a long way, you and me. And if I’m running a mission like this, I need you at my back.”

  The Risi didn’t even hesitate. Not for a second. “It would be the honor of a lifetime,” he said, bowing his head. “And I suggest we bring on Captain Raginolf as our third. He has proven himself to be a peerless warrior and, as with most Dwarves, a natural engineer. He would be a good fit.”

  “How touching,” Sandra said, though she actually sounded like she had just thrown up in her mouth a little. “But perhaps we can move things along, since we still need to discuss Skálaholt and our time is running short.”

  “Rude, but not wrong,” Osmark said, pulling out a gray metal sphere similar to the ones I’d seen him use against the temple guardian. This one he tossed into the air, and instead of thudding to the ground like a stone, a gentle whir filled the room as the ball hovered, perfectly still. A host of blue lights encircled the sphere and a holographic pop-up appeared above the orb, showing off a rough view of Thanatos’ inner city. “I’ve established communications with our contact on the inside. Dr. Jeff Berkowitz.” The image flickered, revealing a tall man, broad across the shoulders, in raven-black plate mail. His face was uncovered, revealing a full red beard and a mop of hair pulled up in a ponytail.

  Abby sputtered and nearly choked. “No way. Jeff Berkowitz? You can’t be serious.”

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Everyone at Os-Tech knew about him. Guy helped engineer the deep dive system—oh, and also he went insane and probably murdered Alan Campbell.”

  “Jeff was not responsible for Alan’s death,” Sandra snapped. “Alan was too smart for his own good, refused to listen to directions or respect company policy, and was fully culpable for his own actions. None of that was on Jeff. Not directly.”

  “As for Dr. Berkowitz’s mental health issues,” Osmark said, “those are tied almost entirely to Thanatos. Aside from Alan, Berkowitz spent a record number of hours inside of V.G.O. during the early Alpha test phase. That was well before we knew many of the physiological issues of long-term use and exposure. Admittedly, he had some personal issues even before that, but those issues were only exacerbated by exposure to Thanatos and the repeated in-game deaths he suffered during the test phase.”

  “And that’s the sod you want us to trust?” Cutter said. “I make it my business to deal with disreputable people, and even I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “It is true,” Amara said. “They can’t be trusted. The only good Darkling is a dead Darkling, and I would not see this mission hinge on the help of one who has turned his back on his own humanity.”

  “Eh. He’s not such a bad guy,” Jay said with a casual shrug. “I worked the underground fighting circuit for a while. This was before I hooked up with Mr. Osmark. I ran across Jeff a few times. He’s a little unbalanced, but no more so than any of the people in this room. Seems to me, anyone who is willing to cross Thanatos directly has to be a little screwed up in the head.”

  “I would also like to point out that we have no other choice,” Osmark said, “which certainly simplifies things. The location of the shield generator isn’t common knowledge, but he can get us where we need to be. And he does have incentive. Thanatos cost him everything, including his family, who are now here in V.G.O. They live in New Viridia, and Berkowitz would very much like to make amends with them. This is his chance to do so. To fix things.” Osmark looked me in the eye then glanced to the ring on Abby’s finger. “I’m sure that’s something we can all understand—the desire for a second chance. And since this is literally the only way, it’s just a gamble we’ll have to take.”

  “So, if there are no further objections?” Sandra asked, a scowl painted across her face that said she might just decapitate anyone who said anything else.

  “Excellent,” Osmark finished without a second thought. “Now, is our Hexblade count still at five?”

  Anton coughed into his hand and edged forward. “Uh, yes,” he said, tone clipped as always. He pulled a brown leather bag from his inventory and cautiously plucked out one of the dark blades. “That’s correct. I was hoping we might stumble across more here in Morsheim, but no one has turned up another. So, five is the max number for our away party, I’m afraid.”

  Osmark drummed his fingers along the grip of his repeater, face pinched as he thought. “Five,” he mumbled. “Sandra and I will be going. Jack and Abby make an obvious third and fourth. I assume the thief will be accompanying us as well?”

  Amara pulled free a curved knife the length of her forearm and idly began picking at her nails—a habit she’d picked up from Cutter. “If you mean my husband,” she said slowly, evenly, “Spymaster of the Crimson Alliance, Gentleman of Rowanheath, and First Prince of the Ak-Hani Clan, then yes, he will be going. It will be an honor to his name and our clan.”

  “Good,” Osmark said, ignoring her threat. “It wouldn’t be the same without him, and his skills will be invaluable, no doubt. Still... Five. I was hoping for a proper tank or a cleric in the mix. It’ll be tough with just five. Though, I suppose with Jeff’s help, it’ll be manageable. As a Morta Knight, he can pull for us if need be. It’ll have to do.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I said, waving away Osmark’s concern. “We just need to get in and take down the shield generator. One mission. Quick and easy. If the Lorekeepers come through, then that should draw most of the Darklings into the outer Necropolis. Which means we’ll just need to get past whatever skeleton crew remains in the inner city. I’m sure there will be a few guards protecting the shield generator, but nothing five of us can’t handle. We take them down, cut the barrier, and then our army comes pouring in. It won’t be easy, but it should be simple.”

  “I wish I had your naïve optimism,” Osmark replied. With a flick of his hand, he banished the image of Jeff and once more brought up the aerial view of Skálaholt. “Jeff hasn’t exactly been a fount of information, but he’s given us a few tidbits to work with, and this is going to be harder than any of you seem to realize. After using the Hexblades, each of us will respawn at a random location somewhere within the city boundaries, but where exactly is impossible to say in advance. For all we know, any one of us could end up respawning in a prison camp or in the middle of a Darkling stronghold. We also won’t be together, so working out a rendezvous location will be tricky.

  “And then there’s the issue of the transformation. Apparently becoming a Spectral Revenant has a number of unfortunate drawbacks that could make our time in Skálaholt exponentially more difficult. What exactly the effects are, I can’t say—because I don’t know—but I think it would be wise to assume none of us will be operating at full capacity. In theory, Jack could use the Reality Editor to open a doorway to Eldgard—effectively returning him to the land of the living—which should undo the effects, but that will be of little solace to the rest of us. Plus, we’ll need the disguises to pass among the Darklings anyway.”

  “Don’t know if you’ve heard,” Cutter said, “but improvisation is our specialty.”

  “He’s right,” I said. “Let’s just worry about taking the outer city first. One thing at a time.”

  “For once, I agree,” Sandra said, grim faced. “Now, the blades please.” She extended an expectant hand.

  “Of course.” Anton cleared his throat as he unlaced the cloth bag holding the daggers, and he passed them out to each party member in turn. Once they were gone, he stowed the bag and scrubbed his hands across his finely stitched robes, face twisted in disgust.

  “Very good,” Osmark said, holding up his own blade, studying it with a steady gaze. “Then all that’s left to do is invade.” He twirled the dagger and stowed it. With a snap of spidery fingers, the floating orb retuned to him, the holographic display vanishing in a blink. “Unless anyone else has anything to discuss, we should be going. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day, and we still have a fair number of plans to make. The portal, if you would, Jay?”

  The Blood Monk grunted and pulle
d out a one-off scroll, popping the ribbon with a thumb, conjuring a shimmering doorway that peered into a sophisticated room with polished wood walls, brass gas lamp fixtures, and a hulking desk covered with a massive map of Morsheim. The map was littered with figurines showing troop dispersion and potential attack points. Osmark’s office, at a guess.

  The Monk cast a glance at us over one shoulder. “Good luck, losers,” he said, giving us a quick wave before leaping through the portal, hands glowing a vibrant gold. The man landed in a crouch and spun like a top, scanning every inch of the room for potential threats. After a moment, he stood and waved his boss through.

  “Until tomorrow,” Osmark said with a tip of his gaudy top hat. He and Sandra stepped through, the opalescent door snapping shut behind them, leaving a purple haze hanging in the air for a moment before finally dissipating.

  Vlad shuffled forward as the Imperials vanished. He’d been silent through the meeting, but now he looked positively excited. “A moment, Jack. Was hoping to talk about Operation Black—”

  “Sorry, mate,” Cutter said, slapping a hand against my shoulder. “Need to borrow him for a second.”

  “Nyet,” Vlad snarled, a beefy wrench appearing in his hand in a flash. “Ty shutish, shto li? Eta tak razdrazhayet.” He took a threatening step forward, brandishing the wrench. “No more interruptions!”

  “Right, well then,” Cutter said, slowly backing away, hands raised. “I suppose it can bloody well wait after all. He’s all yours, Vladdie.”

  Vlad grunted, giving the thief a powerful stink eye before finally stowing the wrench. “Always with the interruptions, that one.” He reached into his inventory and pulled out a long staff crafted of dull black wood and etched with a series of silver runes along the shaft. The Arcane Dampener. I took it, tracing my fingers along the engravings, shuddering from the unnatural chill seeping into my hands. This thing radiated potent magic, or rather seemed hungry for it. A dark void.