by Guillen, JM
Wyatt, of course, claimed I was simply the luckiest son of a bitch alive, and that I was an idiot for claiming that the emitter did more than the packet claimed.
Either way, he did have one point; it seemed to stoke the metabolism. It was worse while it was actually activated, therefore protocol dictated that the emitter not be active for longer than fifteen minutes at a time.
One choice down.
I looked longingly at the Gatekeeper packet. Typically, Gatekeeper was geared for teams which were initially setting up Facility Conduits. That was always the way it worked. An asset, geared with Gatekeeper, would be deposited into a hot zone. From within, a conduit would be established, and the asset could either use it for extraction, or reinforcements could come and assist.
I remembered what Anya had said, however, and knew her to be right. If the area was unstable, a conduit might not open into a Facility-friendly location. It could open anywhere at all. I remembered the deafening, screaming wind of the aberration’s lair, and shuddered.
So no, not today.
Instead I accessed the Adept.
This packet requires two slots to function. Do you wish to—
“Yes. Continue.” I was running short on time.
The Adept packet altered reaction times and concentration, as well as made the user superhumanly fast. There were even proteins that it generated that helped keep the user alert and intensely focused. Wyatt and I theorized it was naturally produced caffeine, or perhaps an adrenaline alternative.
Of course, Wyatt also theorized that the intense rush was the only reason that I ever geared the Adept, and that I needed professional help.
It came with a plethora of pre-programmed combat routines, most of which focused on various hand to hand styles, or melee weaponry.
Weaponry like the katana.
Wyatt would never be caught dead wearing the Adept.
“I prefer fighting the ‘rats as far away as possible.” I could imagine his grin. “I prefer not fighting at all, actually. Set it up so you win before you start. Sun Tzu and all that shit.”
It was different for me. I had never learned any true martial art, but with the Adept packet, I never had to. When it was plugged in, everything courses through your body like sweet quicksilver: speed, muscle memory, styles.
With the Adept and the Wraith cybergeared into my Crown, I could be devastating. It was like being a character in a bad anime, without the need to power up.
One minute, Michael. Wyatt has finished equipping.
I'm finished. I grabbed the katana on my way out, as well as a few more injectables. When I stepped into the brilliant desert sun, Wyatt laughed at the swords.
You’re going as a ninja again, I see. What is the sound of one hand clapping?
I grinned at him. What is the sound of one man handing you your ass?
Chuckling, we walked back to the car. I gave him a look as we walked. Tangler again, huh?
Wyatt was wearing an odd, sleek backpack, with several readouts along the side. There was a semi-circular keyboard on his right hip, hanging from his belt. The keys were in no tongue I could understand. It was important, however, for calibrating the cannon-like attachment that hung over his right shoulder.
He grinned. I stick with what I know.
Technically, it wasn’t named the ‘tangler’. It was the “T-90- Axiomatic Redistribution Algorithm,” and it was the single most complex piece of equipment at the disposal of an asset. With it, Wyatt could temporarily alter Rationality within a given radius, to almost any specification. This allowed him to set up safe zones and fall back locations for us, or literally change the laws of physics on the battlefield.
The tangler was truly an awesome piece of technology.
You go ahead and get close to some ‘rat and swing your sword. I’ll stay back, thanks.
You’re cheating. At least I engage straightaway. Making your opponent’s blood boil seems unfair.
He grinned at me. Whatever gets me home.
It was simple to assume it odd that Wyatt was the asset to wield such a complex device. To look at him, or even speak with him for a few moments, a person might walk away believing he was little more than a man who loved beer, stock car races, and strip clubs with names like “Plan B.” But the tangler required a near-genius grasp of mathematics. I had seen him do all manner of things, from altering the rate at which wounds healed, to shifting the direction of gravity right underneath an Irrat’s feet.
Suddenly I realized that Wyatt didn’t even have any guns.
What happened to those pistols you wanted? Axiomatic blanks, wasn’t it?
The look he gave me was oddly grim. Apparently not today. There was an entirely new Artisan packet available for the tangler, but it required all my Crown slots. He paused. I also have to be cautious what mecha I use with it.
That seemed odd. Most of our weaponry either required a Crown synch or used viral mecha. So today—
He nodded. Tangler only. It’s an odd packet. I don’t need near the Designate clearances that I typically do. Means I’ll be able to mix things up more quickly, have more authority on the fly.
There was something he wasn’t saying. That’s good for us, at least.
He smiled, but it was a rueful grin. Sure. Sure it is. Just makes a man think. Interesting time to let up on the reins a bit.
I thought back to all the packets I had available. It did feel like the Facility was allowing us more than standard resources. Feels a bit like this is more than a standard insertion, doesn’t it?
Wyatt nodded. I kinda figgered you’d go all ninja on me, and so I took the upgrade. It means that if I wanted a gun, I’d be shootin’ offa skill alone, no fancy tech. He shrugged. Didn’t seem like it'd be worth the weight, not when Rosie here could just as easily take someone out.
It made sense. I had seen Wyatt take down Irrats with the tangler alone plenty of times. We walked in silence back to the sedan. Anya popped the truck for Wyatt’s gear. I set the katana in the back as well.
I thought Michael might drive. Anya’s link seemed a touch distracted. I’ve been looking over telemetry readings, and I’d like to continue that as we approach.
Fine by me. I could feel Wyatt’s grin over the link. As long as I can nap out on the way, I don’t care.
If you’re asleep, I won’t have to listen to your rambling. I grinned at him. Seems perfect all around.
12
“Stop!” We were literally in the middle of nowhere when Anya screamed.
It was strange. I could easily count the number of times I had actually heard Anya’s voice. Like most Preceptors, it seemed as if she were far more comfortable using the link. As the world shifted around us, the thing that stuck in my mind was her voice. It was full of fear, of confusion.
Hearing emotion in Anya’s voice was something that simply never happened. Somehow, her voice made even those things lovely.
“Axiomatic trigger!” Anya was twisting madly in her seat, her eyes closed. “It’s a hidden snare! Bishop, you were—”
Her cry was punctuated with a ringing cacophony, and my skull split open. For a moment, it was as if the world wavered around us.
It was all the more shocking for its suddenness. Wyatt was in the back, snoring as promised. I was driving, on my second cigarette, looking amazingly cool as I smoked and drove beneath a sunset sky. Moments before, Anya had been silently sitting at my side, with the occasional head twitch and that marionette-like finger motion that all Preceptors did, while viewing telemetry. It was almost as if she were playing a harp that wasn’t there.
Then, screaming.
I jerked, almost spinning the car to the side. I felt the change. It was as if, for a moment, we were all underwater, and had embers in our bones. Everything slowed, and my mind felt full of mud.
Bishop! Wyatt’s link was confused, half-jerked from sleep. Where are—
Then we were through. For an instant, we were driving somewhere else entirely. The world flickered ar
ound us, between the desert and— somewhere empty.
Somewhere forlorn. Somewhere dark, with fires in the distance.
“Rationality negative thirteen! Negative twenty-one! Negative thirty-four!” Hearing Anya screaming axiomatic statistics at us didn’t seem to matter, or mean anything. If I had given it a moment’s thought, I would have realized that her panic, her voicing them aloud, probably did as much to throw me off my center as anything else.
I had never seen Anya afraid.
Even given all that, I couldn’t comfort her now. All my focus was on the road in front of us.
It was as if the air was boiling. It writhed and swirled in front of us, with the sky momentarily darkening to a sickening violet and then a smothering darkness. For an instant, there were broken trees, colossal limbless things reached for the sky.
Then we were shrouded in hungry, oppressive night. I flicked on the car’s headlights, but it took my eyes a moment to adjust.
No, not night. We were underground, in a cavern.
The trees weren’t trees at all, but thick, black stone columns that stretched to a ceiling far out of sight. There was almost no light, save for a gargantuan chasm off in the distance. A hungry, orange light flickered from within it. I could hear the loud grinding of machinery, but did not see it anywhere.
No, I was trying to keep the car under control. I slammed on the breaks, trying to skid away from one of the columns, looming in front of us.
Bishop! Wyatt’s link was panicked, but I truly didn’t have time to listen. I spun the wheel as hard as I could, but it was no use.
The front of our car crumbled into one of the columns, and we stopped catastrophically short. Anya and I were buckled in, but Wyatt rolled forward and hit the seat with a hard thump.
Then, I saw the gleaming, furious eyes. They shone with hatred, stark burning coals in the darkness.
I shook my head, peering through the windshield to try and get my bearings.
It was dark, darker now that one of the headlights was smashed. I couldn’t see the walls of the cavern, although I could see the chasm, burning with a hungry fire off in the distance. The sounds of machinery were still loud, but I could not see where it was.
My focus was on the creatures, appearing from the gloom around us.
There was one of them directly in front of us, peering at us with hateful eyes. It was a horrifying, gorilla-shaped creature lumbering at the car, with burning, fiery eyes. They seemed empty, hollow, mad.
The creature was at least four meters high.
It was grey, with thick, knotted muscle. It must have weighed five or six hundred kilograms. There were twisting brands, burned into the creature’s skin. They were no writing I had ever seen, but there was a pattern to them, a hypnotic shifting that caught the eye.
It only wore a long loincloth, tattered and dirty. It was brandishing a vaguely hammer-shaped object, something that looked the size of a small tree.
-Sub-topia! Anya was linking madly, but I was not following. Life forms detected, classification unknown! We are back to negative thirty-two… thirty one—
“Fuck this.” Wyatt opened the door and started to step from the backseat. I remembered suddenly that all his gear was in the trunk, and hit the release.
Unfortunately, one of the lumbering creatures was moving towards the car. Wyatt hurled himself back inside, pulling the door shut just as a massive fist caved in the side of the door.
Yer the only one geared, hoss.
Right. I glanced into the mirror as one of them shoved Wyatt’s door, and the car slid a few feet. Because kinetic disruptors are going to do more than tickle something that size.
For just a moment, the entire world flickered. It was still Nevada for an instant, all red sand and open sky. Then, like changing stations on the radio, we were back in the darkness.
It was nauseating.
We are at negative thirty-one. It’s stabilizing. Anya’s link was cool, almost calm. We are not fully immersed in the secondary topia. If Wyatt can secure his equipment, together we can possibly shift ourselves back to Rational space.
The car slid again with another strike from one of the creatures.
I have dampener grenades? I sent the link almost hopefully. They helped me with the first snare…
Not the same. I could feel the certainty in Anya’s link. You simply altered Rationality so you could find your way back through. We’re much further than you were from baseline. We need to create a stasis zone where the axioms average to Rationality zero. This place will reject that axiomatic ratio, and we will drift to rational space.
She’s right, Hoss. We’ll separate, like oil and water. Wyatt’s link was grim. It’s complex, but we can do it. I just need my gear.
I pulled my kinetic disruptors, one in each hand. I eased my latch open, not quite opening the door.
Fine. But I don't know that I can do much. Whatever they are, I bet they are capable of taking a hit. I might be a distraction, at best.
Be a good one. Wyatt was solemn. Keep them busy, and I’ll grab the tangler. From here, me and the princess should be able to get us home.
I sighed.
Copy that.
I opened the door, and sprung outside. At the last possible second, I remembered the diaphanic emitter.
I desperately hoped it would work.
It was mostly a matter of axiomatic differences. The laws of reality could function drastically different in alternate topias. I had no way of knowing if light even functioned the same way. What if it didn’t and the emitter couldn’t quite handle it? What if I burned out part of my Crown because light was a little bit more wave than particle in this place?
Well, that would mean that one of these gargantuan mutant Lord of the Rings rejects would likely put his fist through my head.
So I leapt, tucked, and rolled. I felt the Adept kick in with more grace and dexterity than plain ol' non-smoking Michael Bishop could ever call on.
I engaged the emitter.
It worked.
It was interesting in that once the emitter functioned, I could still see myself. I had spent many an hour wondering how that was; after all, I wasn't supposed to interact with light while it was engaged. Did the emitter simply make an exception for my own eyes? Or was it the Crown creating a visual representation for me?
In the end, it didn't matter.
There was always a slight coolness when the emitter was functioning, almost as if light itself no longer heated the skin. I felt it wash over me, and took a few steps left. Two of the creatures, which had been closing on me, stopped, confused.
“Beh leii. Hamnd.” One of them spoke to the other, his voice like stones grating together. “Orris ruut bhaad.”
They looked again, at where I had just been. The one that had spoken sniffed at the still, sour air.
For a moment, the eldritch markings on the creature’s skin caught my attention. They did seem to shift, to writhe, of their own accord, and yet they were brands, burnt into the creature’s hide.
Anya, do we have any intel on these markings on their skin?
No, Michael. Her link was patronizing. There are over seventeen thousand classifications of aberrations, and without access to the Lattice—
Then, I saw the creature’s hide squirm. My eyes widened.
Anya, I think—
I cut off my own link as if happened again, and I stared in horror.
There was something beneath the creature’s skin.
It was moving between the muscle and the flesh, a thick, serpent like movement. I watched in horror as it writhed along the behemoth’s side, before disappearing into its abdomen.
Then, the one that was sniffing the air turned its flat face towards me, its eyes searching.
Oh fuck no.
I aimed one of the disruptors at the ground, between them. I used my thumb, kicked the force to its highest setting, and most focused field. I fired.
I was taking no chances. An invisible bolt of kinetic fo
rce tore into the ground, and there was a small explosion between the two. It blew a hole the size of a basketball in the ground.
Both of the creatures roared, and leapt away from the hole. A third turned to look on, and I spun, almost without thinking. I fired one of the disrupters, squarely at its chest.
The thing flew backward five yards. It lay on the ground, moving weakly.
The disruptors are far more powerful with the focus so sharp, Michael. Anya's link was maddeningly calm. You likely just liquefied some internal organs.
Your physics lessons are always appreciated, Anya. I was, moving to the side of one of the creatures, doing my best to be slow, and cautious. This wasn't home; I had no guarantee that the emitter would properly mask sound. That aside, there’s something else here… something inside them. I knew the link would convey my horror.
Copy that, Bishop. Wyatt’s link was filled with awe and disgust. I can see it in one over here. It’s like thick cables running through them, just below the skin. It’s moving.
Assets. Anya’s link was crisp, almost curt. These aberrations may be host bodies for some kind of phage. I could feel her specifically maintain calm as she linked. Many Irrational species seek host bodies and—
And they can fuck right off. My heart was pounding in my chest. Of all the fates that could befall an asset, being a “host body” was one of the more horrifying choices.
I suddenly felt quite vulnerable.
I quietly stepped behind the behemoth I had downed and aimed both pistols at the back of its head. When I fired, I heard its skull crack.
The monstrosity jerked twice, then collapsed against the dark stone ground.
The car was much less interesting to the creatures at this point. They were all watching, rapt, as one of their own was murdered by invisible kinetic explosions. When he shuddered and fell to the ground, one of them began a hoarse, bellowing cry that echoed through the cavern.
“QARVAAA!!” The word was impossibly loud. “QARVAAA DIM’LO!”
Bishop… I could feel the warning in Wyatt’s link.
Copy that, Wyatt. If you’re going to get your gear, now might be the time.