by Guillen, JM
Unarmed. Unless you count business prospectus' as deadly weapons.
Anya's concerns were more down to earth. Will the contact see us as we pass, or do we need to eliminate him?
I glanced down at the door. We can slip by, if we want. He shouldn't be too difficult for us to take out if we need to.
Perhaps we should hold our position. Anya's link seemed tentative. It wouldn't do for us to engage the contact without knowing more.
I think I agree with twitchy, here. I'd hate to have ’rats swarming us while we focus on one guy.
I grinned. Understood.
I slipped down the hallway.
There were two more offices, both of them with brass nameplates. They were empty, but looked similar to the first. After deciding that they didn't warrant much attention, I crept to the end of the hallway, where it ended in a T and a metallic blue door, with a cobalt sheen.
There’s an odd blue door at the end of the hallway. I pressed my ear against it, trying to listen. It was shockingly cold.
Do you see ‘rats anywhere?
I pulled my ear from the door and looked down the T hallway, first right and then left.
Negative. That wasn't quite true, however. There was a door to the left, and I heard rustling coming from behind it. Check that. Potential contact. Carefully, I stepped close to the door, and pressed my ear against it.
That's when the door opened. It slammed into the side of my head, and threw me backwards on my ass. I cursed, and not inwardly, or over the link. My katana, previously held in my left hand, flew from my grasp and clattered on the floor.
Fuck. I turned and looked up at who had come through the door.
She was positively surreal.
Her hair was styled meticulously, at least what I could see of it. Just like the man in the office, she had a relic of a gas mask on her face. All I could see was curled hair and a figure to die for all wrapped up in a power suit.
Her gaze dropped to my katana. Even without being able to make out her eyes through the insectine goggles of the mask, I could see her wheels turning. Slowly, she reached underneath her jacket. I could see a holster she was wearing there, across her chest.
Wyatt. Get ready. I tensed.
She wrapped her hand around her pistol. As she peered into the hallway, I struck, all grace and data from the Adept.
I had one chance to do this, and be quiet about it.
I swept her leg, and as she went down, lunged at her, hoping to silence her before she screamed. The idea was that this would be over before she knew what happened.
Nope.
She was far quicker than I expected. As she went down, she pulled the gun. She managed to fire once, then twice as she fell. The bullets tore into the ceiling and the wooden paneling, and sounded like thunder in the small space.
Excellent. I could feel the eagerness in Wyatt’s comm. Let's rock.
WHUF.
If “catching the woman gracefully” had been the concept, I fell far short. Instead, I caught her forehead, which I slammed into the doorframe. The gun dropped from her unconscious fingers. No sooner had I grabbed for it than someone else shot, from inside the room. I looked up, and saw four more people, in business attire and creepy gas masks. One of them had an old, World War II era machine gun, while another was emptying his pistol in the air over my head.
Quickly, I grabbed my katana as well, and threw my back against the wall, staying low.
We have four more. Two with guns that I can see, I linked.
Got this “Mister Oglemeyer” trapped in his room, Hoss.
Anya chimed in. We have no axiomatic disturbances yet. No data on Irrational capabilities.
Right. I glanced back through the door. The two with guns were advancing slowly, while another was slipping out the back door.
Dammit. I had to move before they could get more.
I was in this.
Advancing. I spun into the room, doing my best to keep low and remain silent. From everything I could see, it was a simple office. There were desks with reams of paper on them. Four clocks hung on the wall, and there was a window on the far wall. From here, it looked as if the window looked out into nighttime.
I let the men get just a touch closer. The one with the pistol was in front, and I could see his hand tremble, just the smallest amount.
Then I struck.
I’ve said it before. The Wraith combined with the Adept is a lethal setup. Unseen, I spun towards the first man, slicing with the katana. I opened his neck before he even knew what was happening and turned to the second man.
He was only horrified for a moment. Then, he turned the machine gun straight toward me and opened fire.
Target may be able to see past the Wraith, I linked as I rolled to the side, coming up behind one of the desks. From there, I aimed the gun that I still had from the first woman, and caught him in his side.
As he went down, I felt one of his bullets hit my shoulder. I spun from the impact, and went down.
I’m hit. Shoulder shot. Still operational.
You still have mecha on standby, Michael. I suggest tasking them for pain and tissue repair.
It was hard to believe I still had untasked mecha. Copy that, Anya. No time for that just now, however.
Someone was yelling. Was it Russian? If I had been connected to the Lattice, I could have translated in real time. Anya would know, I thought to myself. Pushing myself up, I aimed the pistol at one of the others, and shot twice. One went through the gas mask, the other caught him in the neck.
The fourth man was gone. He had run out the other door.
God dammit.
Michael, I’m sending Wyatt in. There are some odd readings out here. I’m trying to make sense of them.
Be careful, Preceptor. I disengaged the Wraith.
“Looks clear.” Wyatt stepped into the room. He walked across the way and shut the door. Then, he placed a spike on our side, beyond the door.
WHUF.
“Just in case?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
Wyatt gave a devious grin. “It’s ‘nother handy use for stasis spikes. Some ’rat walks in, and suddenly the hallway is blocked. No one will be coming this way for a bit.”
I shut down the Wraith, and made a momentary adjustment to my untasked mecha. Moments later, soothing painkillers were in my veins.
We have a target down. Injured, but not dead. I nodded to where the man lay groaning on the floor.
Wyatt nodded once, and walked over towards the man. He kicked the machine gun so it was good and out of reach, and pulled the mask from his face.
“Mornin’ buddy.” He glanced over at the window. “Or evenin’. What the hell ever.”
“Who—” There were flecks of blood on the man’s lips. His eyes were wide as his gaze went between Wyatt and me. He was gasping for air. “You’re… them. Oh. Oh, God.” He looked as if he might start to cry.
Wyatt gave the man his friendliest smile and set the mask back where it had been. The Irrat took a deep gulp of air.
“Now. We ain’t that bad. Just looking for some answers is all.” He looked about. “Seems like there’s only one left who can give us those.”
The man’s voice was a reedy whisper. “No. No answers for you. They’ll—” The man shut his mouth, as if realizing something.
I gave the man a dark look. “You assume we won’t do worse.” I glanced over my shoulder, at the man whose throat I had opened. “That is a dangerous assumption.”
“I…” The man was trying to get a grasp on himself. “I know you’ll do whatever you feel is necessary, Michael Bishop.”
A chill ran down my back at the calm certainty in the man’s voice. The world seemed to bend around me, just a touch. The room smelled like rancid meat.
You have a small spike in ambient Irrationality within that room. Anya’s voice was matter of fact. You are currently at negative one Rationality.
Wyatt knocked the man in the side of the head. “Knock that shit off. Yo
u’re not doing anything that we haven’t seen a thousand times before.”
“The thing is, this is probably your last day on the job unless we can give you a hand.” I pushed at the man’s side. His clothing was sticky with blood. “So whoever you are protecting, he’s not really going to be able to do that much for you. On the other hand,” I shrugged, “a Facility hospital might be better than dead.”
The man laughed. It was a winding, meandering laugh, made all the stranger by the gas mask.
“I’ve known men who got re-educated, spook. They weren’t the same.” He coughed then. It was wet and rasping. “Seems like I’m dead here on the floor, or I go with a couple of black suits and get gentled. Then my gift is dead inside me and I’m just another blind idiot.” He coughed again. “No. I’m a believer, asshole. I’ll die doing what’s right.”
Watch it up here, Bishop. We have a zealot. He won’t be giving us shit.
Agreed.
This was often the case. Sometimes, it seemed as if all Irrats were the same. Give some hillbilly reality shaping powers, and it becomes a religious experience. You can’t convince them that they aren't God's chosen.
I sighed. “Last chance, friend. We detected irregular readings in the Mojave Desert. They were dangerous, and executed with precision. Following up on those led us here. Do you have any information for us?”
Even though I could not see his face, the smile was in his voice. “Eat shit. You’ll know soon enough. I’ll die a free man.”
I exchanged a look with my best friend, and nodded.
“That you will.” Wyatt pulled the mask from his face, and hurled it across the room. Parts of it shattered against the wall. Almost immediately upon breathing the air, the man began to gasp.
“It was your call, sir.” I nodded at him as he sank to the ground.
We’re coming back, Anya. I glanced at my system time. We had three hours forty-eight minutes remaining.
Copy that, Michael. I hated the way the secondary comm made the link feel so heavy and slow. I have some new data here.
When Wyatt and I stepped back into the hallway, Anya seemed pleased with herself. “It’s as if they’ve built a new technology. It was axiomatically locked. Similar to the door at the silo.”
Obviously, we had missed something. I smiled a little at her. “What?”
“The blue door.” She rested her hand against it. “I was getting odd readings in this spot. I thought they might be originating behind the door, but they weren’t. Someone has literally altered the way mass and motion function, in the very small space of this door. It’s a lock of sorts.”
“An axiomatic lock?” That was interesting.
“Anyone could open it, but only if you knew how it had been done.”
My smile grew wider as she spoke. I wondered if I would ever get used to hearing her speak out loud.
“You didn’t even need me this time.” Wyatt was teasing. “Next thing you know, you’ll be taking up katanas and the tangler yourself.”
She gave him an odd look. “I don’t have the requisite slot space, Wyatt. The Preceptor class packet is a permanent installation—”
He laughed out loud. “Christ, Anya. This never gets old.”
I cut in. “Do you know what’s behind the door?”
She shook her head. “Dossier parameters indicate that I am to allow for escort, and focus on my readings. Exploration without my cadre seems unwise, at best.”
I smiled at her. “Fair enough.” I gave Wyatt a glance. “Shall we see what was important enough to try and keep this door closed?”
He grinned, and powered up Rosie. “Seems reasonable.”
I reached for the door handle. It was still cold. As it turned in my hand, I had a sudden thought.
“Let's be careful. Our last two doors have led to different topias.”
“It's like an Irrat travel agency.” Wyatt chuckled. “Maybe we can collect souvenirs.”
“I already have a bullet hole in my shoulder. That's enough for me.” I gently pushed at the door. It slowly swung inward, almost ominously.
I nodded at Wyatt, and then at Anya, and I stepped into the room.
None of us had any idea that what we were going to find was going to change the course of human history.
19
The first thing I noticed about the room was the overwhelming, horrific scent. Anya stepped up next to me, her fingers plucking and twitching.
“Nothing new. The axioms within are the same.”
“Good to know.”
Inside, there were only twisted shadows and murmurs in the darkness. I reached behind me and opened the door completely, letting the light of the hallway splash into the room. From the doorway, all we could see were looming shadows. They were tall, cylindrical things, scattered across the room. Some of them gave off the faintest bit of light.
The room absolutely reeked. It was an earthy, sour scent that cloyed.
“Oh, Oh God!” Wyatt waved a hand in the air, as if he could wave it away, but it persisted.
If there was anyone inside, they would have known the moment the door opened a crack, from the light, much less from Wyatt’s interjections. As there was no gunfire the moment I opened the door, I felt relatively safe.
“I’m switching to optics.” I accessed the infra- and ultra-spectrums through my Crown. As the data synched with my visual cortex, I blinked, trying to get things in focus.
“Understood.” Wyatt powered the tangler back up, and the three of us crept into the room.
Once inside, the shadowed cylinders became far easier to make out. They were metallic, and uniform in size. Once I got close enough, I realized that they had a thick glass door in one side. Most were dark, but towards the center of the room, several of them shone with an odd light within.
“Do you hear that?” Wyatt’s voice was a sharp whisper. “It sounds like wet breathing.”
I hadn’t heard it, but now that he brought it to my attention, I did. He was right. It was like the great inbreath of some huge creature, looming in the darkness.
“It’s like a bellows.” I looked up. My optics were having a hard time getting a focus, but it seemed like it was in front of us. The more I looked, however, the more my visual readout seemed to jump and glitch.
“Can you see anything?” Wyatt sounded irritated. He must have been having the same experience.
“Optics aren’t working well. Must be some kind of interference. I’m altering my parameters.” No sooner had I begun cycling through the Crown’s settings than I saw it— a murky, somewhat circular area on the floor, hidden in the gloom.
A liquid? From the way it seemed to shift and bubble, it might be.
Wyatt had walked around the side of one of the cylinders. He had his hand on the glass door, and was peering inside. A soft, greenish glow emanated from within.
“It's—” His eyes were wide. “There's a person in here.”
Anya and I stepped around to look. Sure enough, the vat was filled with what seemed like a thick, liquid gel of some kind. From below the woman, a greenish light illuminated her naked form. Tubes ran into her nose, ears, and several points on her arms.
Anya was taking readings. “I can't say what all of this is, but—”
“I can.” I could hear the horror in my whisper. “Look. Look in the liquid.”
As one, we all peered into the metallic cylinder. Wyatt and Anya saw what I had seen at the exact same moment. I saw the cold horror drift into Wyatt’s eyes; I watched as Anya’s breath caught.
“Oh. Oh fuck me.” Wyatt’s tone held the heavy weariness of despair. I watched him deflate, just a touch.
It was for their young.
Inside the cylinder, swimming in the goo, were dozens, hundreds of pitch black larvae, the largest no bigger than an earthworm. They undulated in the liquid, some of them winding around each other, forming impossible bodies before releasing and joining up with others.
As I watched, a thick strand swam out from t
he woman’s nose.
“She's not the only one.” Wyatt was peering into the gloom, looking at the other cylinders. “There are people in several of these.”
“I'm reading an odd spike. It's small, but—” Anya was looking behind me. “Michael.”
I turned, and looked the woman we had first seen. Her black hair floated around her in the liquid, and her eyes were open. Open, aware, and filled with an alien blackness.
She screamed.
The sound was muffled, but it rippled into oddly shaped bubbles within the liquid. It was something I felt as much as I heard, as a weight in my mind. The woman’s eyes were huge, and dark. I couldn't see any white within them.
“Rationality negative two.” Anya looked at me. “That's from the ambient Rationality, mind you. We were already sub-Rational.” She paused. “Negative three.”
Then, the world around us rippled, undulated like a serpent.
“Fuck!” Wyatt yelled as a dark tentacle writhed out of the gloom. I spun and saw it, all shadow and talon, rising from the shrouded center of the room. There were no eyes on the creature, just knotted strands of corded tendril, many ending with wicked hooks or small, hungry suckers.
He stumbled backwards, in a blind panic, and fell against another of the cylinders. There was a man within it, a naked, Asian man with hauntingly pale skin.
The moment Wyatt slammed against his small chamber, the man’s eyes opened. Like the woman’s, they were like haunted midnight.
The man’s mouth opened in a feral cry that bubbled through the liquid and sliced at my mind.
I stepped toward the center of the room, pulling the katana off my back. Almost immediately, another pair of the hungry, shining tendrils appeared in the darkness. I swung with one of my blades, but felt nothing.
They were gone.
It was liquid in the center of the room, a viscous, bubbling pool. As I stepped closed, I could see that the tubes that ran into the cylinders all ended in the foul-smelling liquid.
I could hear the Vyriim in my mind. It was like the buzzing of furious hornets, like the whispers of the long mad.