by JM Guillen
The Designates wish me to encourage you to return to the target, Michael. Anya’s uncertainty bled through the link. If Asset DuMarque is lost, Irrat 3302 must be recovered.
The Designates know where they can stick their orders.
Bishop! Rachel was horrified. Get on dossier, or they’ll go Protocol Zero on your ass!
Protocol Zero? That made no sense.
There isn’t a dossier, I snapped. We weren’t even supposed to be here!
If Gideon is gone, then we need to make this insertion worthwhile, Anya reasoned. Irrat 3302 will have intel.
I hated that she was right.
The creature reared up again and plopped down on the walkway, much of its mass still in the water. It rippled toward me, a glop of acidic horror.
Anya, I linked, hating how small I felt, please reconfirm the state of Asset DuMarque’s signal.
Latent signal lost, she sent, matter-of-factly. Michael, he’s gone.
Her words felt like ice in my mind. They hit me in a way that ‘Asset is presumed lost’ never could have.
Gone.
I felt Anya’s loss through the link, wretched pain I knew wouldn’t show on her face. That was another hit—knowing Anya felt this, even if differently than I did.
Gone.
My eyes burned. The entire world teetered. I clenched my fist.
For a small eternity, the world was a ball of rage and flame.
I swallowed, trembling.
Understood.
6
Fury and loss cut at me, and I thought I might retch. I staggered from the enormity of it.
The shapeless horror slopped forward and tendrils of briny eagerness reached out.
Breathe, Bishop, Rachel whispered in my Crown. Don’t lose your focus.
I shook my head and tried to process.
With a slithering squishiness, the briny fiend lurched toward me.
Asset Gardener is correct, Michael, Anya’s link caressed my mind. We need you to come home.
I took a breath.
I stepped back.
I aimed at the glooping aberration and fired: once, twice, five times.
It pulled away from those shots as the kinetic force tore into it with bursts larger than my entire body. It undulated backward, unable to cry out in pain but obviously recoiling from the sensation.
I just needed a single moment. If I could just get past the disgusting thing, I would still have a chance to chase down Amir.
Priority: Amir Cadavas, I linked as I tried to focus on anything but the acidic pain in my chest.
Acknowledged. The subtle distance within Anya’s tone told me more than a screaming wail might from another woman. Rachel hadn’t said much, either, but I could imagine how she was responding.
I needed to bring this fucker home. Even if I wanted to rip that fucking smile off his skull with my bare hands, the rest of my cadre had a point. Catching this asshole was the best shot I had at making all of this awfulness matter, making Gideon’s death mean something.
I turned away from the amorphous blob. Yet when I looked for the white outline, the token in my Crown that had shown where I left Amir…
Anya, I linked. I don’t have a fix on the Irrat’s position.
I chewed at my lip in fury.
Telemetry is still weak, Michael. Wide fluctuations are being experienced worldwide. In addition, you are several meters below the surface.
I don’t need a list of the problems just now, Preceptor. I fired on another of the masked thralls who loped toward me with inhuman hunger. I’m certain you can overcome.
I’m attempting to establish a feed, she responded curtly. All local telemetry was routed through the Huntsman in Gideon DuMarque’s Crown. Without access to his Crown, the Huntsman data is lost.
Fuck.
Rage burned in my heart.
Understood. I fired again at yet another of the masked abominations and spun. Moist pseudopods swept toward me, and I nudged the Adept into momentary activity to leap past them.
In the shadows behind my mind, I felt the savage hunger of my astral companion, the haunting presence that never quite left me. I fired a second and the third time and tasted its desire burning on the edges of my mind.
Rachel must’ve dialed up some of her mojo because the sensation faded.
“This is becoming intolerable,” I muttered as I fired again.
Here is the last known location of Irrat 3302, Anya linked primly. I will continue requisitions for data on his current location.
I grappled with one of the shambling miscreations as she linked, all but overwhelmed by the scent of rot that poured off the awful thing. Another of its kind came up behind me, a gangled, shambling figure that might have once been a boy of fifteen.
In front of me, perhaps forty meters away, the glowing white outline of Amir reappeared, stock still where I’d last sent him sprawling with a shot to the thigh.
Thanks, Anya. I grunted and sidestepped just as the undulating slime slorped its way onto the walkway, seeking with bulbous, serpentine tendrils.
I needed to change the battlefield. If I remained here, the inhuman things would outflank and box me. Without my katanas, melee combat left me at a slight disadvantage.
“Alright, assholes.” I stepped back from the shambling, masked myrmidons. With less than a thought, I toggled the Wraith despite my uncertainty whether they required sight, as only Amir’s mask actually contained eyeholes.
Coolness like wintergreen whispers fell over me as I faded from sight.
They paused. The one closest to me, a lanky male who needed far more cloth to cover himself than he had available, reached for the spot where I’d stood.
I toggled the Adept and jumped back. Though I relied on the preternatural grace of that packet, it often left me nervous, as if strung out on caffeine. However, in short bursts, the thing was a lifesaver, no matter how twitchy I might feel.
Yes, Gideon’s voice echoed in my memory. It’s the packet that makes you twitchy.
I took a breath and shook my head.
Not now.
In the creatures’ moment of confusion, I ducked left and sprinted past the figure that grappled for me.
And almost killed myself in the attempt.
Just behind that loping horror, the gargantuan, protozoan repugnance had slopped and the sloshed its way onto the walkway and reached eagerly for me.
The brine of it, the saltwater repugnance, hit me in the face. The pure reek made a physical assault.
Apparently, this thing didn’t need to see me.
“Fuck!” I cried, inadvertently startled by the sudden splatter in front of me. I skidded to a rapid stop, but it was close. Another step or two, and I would have hurled myself into the creature.
That would have ended things quickly.
Bishop? Rachel’s link seemed cautious. Tell me you’re okay.
Umm… in a minute.
So you aren’t okay?
I’m hoping I will be! I took another step backward and brought both of my kinetic disruptors to bear on the mass in front of me. I toggled the field wider; it might be the only way to harm the thing.
My shots tore into the gelatinous mass.
It reared back from the attack and splashed into the water.
I sprinted past.
I think I’m okay. I threw one glance over my shoulder and noted that dozens of masked silhouettes had begun a slow, inevitable pursuit. Some shook their heads or trembled in place as they came out of whatever odd, nightmarish fugue they’d lapsed into. Others had started a slow jog.
Regardless of my assurance to Rachel, concern washed through me. With this many targets, I didn’t see an easy way out.
I still do not have up to date information on Irrat 3302. Anya’s frustration bled through the link. If I were onsite, this would be simple.
If you were onsite, maybe you could save my ass.
Dozens of the shambling things remained. Though slow, an awful inevitability fueled thei
r marionette-like movements. Unlike me, I imagined they didn’t exactly get tired.
And then there was my true quarry.
Amir would be threat enough without their help, I knew. The man held far more sorcerous power than a typical Irrat. Experience had taught me that, by himself, he made a force to be reckoned with.
“Outmaneuvered,” I muttered as I ran. This had been more than stupid. If anyone had known how cunning Cadavas could be, it should have been Gideon and me. After our little privy dance in Mexico, the two of us had spent quite a bit of time researching the jackhole. A cunning opponent, Amir rarely let himself get drawn into situations where he didn’t have the upper hand.
We hadn’t caught him by surprise at all.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I felt like Gideon and I had been lured in like a couple of rubes.
“Therefore, the next step…” I sprinted toward Amir Cadavas and prepared myself for what I would see.
“Fuck.” I shook my head.
Sometimes I hated being right.
Target is no longer present. I searched frantically, then glanced back at the encroaching horde of despair. Anya, I’d love to hear that you have a direction. A notion. A clue.
Designate support has received our query. Frustration bled through her words. I have all available resources engaged in boosting local telemetry.
But no leads. The passageway continued forward, yet I felt that shadowed path was too obvious. Every move we’d made since we’d arrived onsite had been immediately countered by the cultist. In this moment, while the shapeless hunger haunted the cistern all around me, Amir might find a clever opportunity for a trap ahead.
At the thought, I turned.
The creatures might be slow, yet their march forward felt stark, certain. The closest shuffled along less than ten meters away.
“Dammit.” I brought my disruptor pistols forward and fired at the masked inhumanity behind me. In my haste, I didn’t think to alter the settings on the weapons, and therefore shot with the same wide force I’d used to tear into the amoeba-like abomination.
The burst bowled over groups of two and three at once.
“Fuck,” I swore and toggled the pistols back to a narrower bandwidth. If I kept the same amount of force but held its focus down to something akin to the width of a pencil, the shots should punch straight through them. They’d stay down permanently after that.
With a tide of filth and decay, the baleful protoplasm lurched out of the water. It reared up more than fifteen meters over my head.
Blood drained from my face.
It crashed down onto the walkway, then pulsed toward me with an alien eagerness.
“Oh God.” I couldn’t help the moment of instinctual panic at the sight of it. Its dreadful stench preceded it and rolled over me with the foul reek of long-dead rot.
My skin itched.
Bishop? Rachel’s link came sharply in my mind.
I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let the wolf off the leash? I took a step backward.
You know the risk, Rachel reminded me as death itself gurgled toward me. We had a hard time getting you back last time.
You’re going to have a hard time getting me back if I get digested. I pulled my pistols and thumbed the focus wide again.
Don’t get digested. While she teased, Rachel’s link came softly in my mind. Just kill it.
Right. I shook my head. Why don’t I just obliterate the slimy bastard? I can’t believe I didn’t think—
I stopped in midlink as the obvious became apparent. I had another option, after all.
Bishop? Rachel’s frantic link showed exactly what she thought of me cutting off in midthought.
Fine. I’m fine. I holstered one of my guns and frantically dug into the large pouch on my left leg. Within, I grasped the smooth, disk-shaped devices.
Frantically, I pulled both of the Tabula Rasa with hardly a glance at the settings as I stepped backward. I guessed the sluicing slime might be fifteen meters away as it oozed along the walkway. Most of the masked figures shuffled behind the immense mass of acidic gel, held back by its inexorable forward globbing.
I hated this. I hated calculating distance and diameter while excruciating death bore down on me.
Can you give me another boost to the Adept? I toggled the Rasa’s dial with one finger. Just for a moment? I already took my mecha-meds.
Well, you have been a good boy.
I felt Rachel begin to tinker with my mecha even as she linked. Everything around me seemed to slow, as my reflexes kicked up another notch.
I grinned, wolfishly.
“Later, sludgy.” I’d turned to the shadows before my little nitro boost burned out. After I sprinted a good ten meters, I turned back toward the amoeb-ination.
As if I’d trained for years in the major leagues, I hurled one of my Rasa straight at the noxious, mucousy menace.
The moment I released the device, I turned and sprinted away, toward the shadows.
“Go, go, go…”
Less than three seconds later the shadows vanished before brilliant-white, magnesium light. Silent thunder shook the room.
I glanced over my shoulder.
The ooze glowed white from within, a hand-sized glimmer that burst suddenly outward, swallowing several of the creatures behind it and much of the bridge before it.
Fuck, it’s too wide! My legs burned as I pushed onward. I set it too large! It’ll swallow—!
Radiance fell in upon itself.
In an instant, the air in the cistern crashed into the vacuum left behind by the device. A loud pealing rumble echoed through my bones, shaking the stones of the cavern.
I tumbled forward, ass over teakettle, and pain blossomed sharply in my skull when my head hit the stone floor. When my somersault finally stopped, I slumped forward. I felt the sweet softness of unconsciousness slip around me, soft and inviting.
I drifted.
Bishop! From somewhere beyond time itself, I heard Rachel yell at me.
Always nagging, Rach, I linked dreamily.
I’ll show you nagging!
I felt something click just behind my right ear, followed by a whirring sensation.
A dump truck, probably full of adrenaline and amphetamine, smashed into my brain. Every muscle in my body jolted, as if I’d been hit with a defibrillator.
OKAY! I leapt up from where I’d fallen on the walkway and frantically peered around.
Had I passed out?
Less than two meters before me, the walkway ended in a huge gap. Water churned below after it had rushed to fill the space created by the Tabula Rasa. Within that water, I made out a few of the masked corpses struggling weakly, as if they’d forgotten how to swim.
No falling unconscious, Rachel lectured me. You still don’t know if that Irrat is onsite.
I suspect I do. I turned away from the water and gazed off into the shadowed distance.
No falling unconscious anyway.
Still no trace of Amir? I knew Anya’s answer before I linked yet asked anyway.
Long-range telemetry is offline in seven sectors worldwide. Her frustration seeped into me. Mediterranean sector two is completely adrift.
Goddamn it! I seethed and tried to push down the pain of loss. He can’t just get away! Do we have a decent timeframe on repairs?
No, Anya grumbled. Well, as much as Anya ever grumbled. Estimated response time is currently at thirty-seven hours.
Damnit. I ground my molars while I thought. We’re not exactly on dossier here. I’d like to submit a request to the Designates that I be allowed continued pursuit of 3302.
Already submitted, Michael.
You know me so well.
I’m afraid the request was denied.
Of course. Honestly, I’d expected as much. Requisition requests to a Designate were notoriously difficult to achieve, even when the situation wasn’t this… fluid.
We’d lost an Asset. But if telemetry was down in seven sectors acros
s the planet, I imagined the Designates weren’t exactly in a mood to play things loose.
I turned and paced. My thoughts boiled darkly in my mind. My breath came quickly and tinges of red remained in my vision.
I’d lost Gideon, my mentor and one of the best men I’ve ever met. Moreover, I’d lost him to the same assholes who’d taken other friends.
“Not acceptable.” I shook my head. “Not by a fucking long shot.”
Extraction is already underway, Bishop, Anya informed me softly. I will send you Facility blueprints regarding what we know of the cisterns. Once you reach the surface, a conduit will be available.
I sighed.
Understood.
Wait.
That was my wiggle room, right there. If the Facility couldn’t get a conduit down here in the cisterns, then I had some time to poke around a bit. Even if I didn’t find Amir—
My foot slipped just a bit. Not enough to make me fall but enough to make me glance down.
I stood upon a piece of paper, one of the pages I’d blasted out of Amir’s hand.
Now that I looked, dozens of them lay scattered all about me.
I raised my foot and reached for a page, trembling. Arcane symbols and numeric lines were scrawled across the old, rough paper between my fingers.
Gideon had counted the Noctiis as a win.
I turned my head and counted all the sheets. The beginnings of smile dawned on my lips. Maybe the situation could be salvaged. If the Liber Noctiis were even half as important to Amir and his fuckface buddies as Gideon thought…
I began to gather the papers.
Michael, do you acknowledge? You are to rendezvous for extraction.
Will comply, Preceptor. I picked up two more sheets. Give me just a moment, then get me out of here.
The Citadel
January 7, 2001
Site Unknown
CRACK! The room reverberated with a deafening sound. The vibrant green around the edges of the doorways in my white room began to fade.
Location achieved, Asset.
Still bleary, I had no snark, not even a bit of my traditional lip for the automated system. I shambled through the conduit as the Designate finished her sign off.
—wish you well in the days ahead.