The freelancer, Woodman, actually snorted. Brian scowled at the sound. Bodyguards shouldn’t snort at their clients. “Been out here more than you, reporter-man,” Woodman whispered.
“Just be quiet. And keep your eyes peeled.”
Another snort.
He shouldn’t have to put up with this. He was Brian Savagewood, rising investigative reporter star—no, wait: rising star investigative reporter was better—of Media Star’s Northgate affiliate. Once he found the woman on the run for illegal cloning who was rumored to be hiding out in this area—and then gotten safely back out of The Dirge—he’d never work with this Woodman guy again. And she should be just up the block, if his source was accurate.
They reached the end of the alley, which fed onto a broad street strewn with abandoned cars, cardboard shanties, and bits of trash. A group of teenagers with more piercings than clothes huddled around a trashcan fire. Further up, a pair of gangers brawled while others looked on, shouting bets. Laughter, unintelligible yelling, and the occasional distant gunshot filled the air. Somewhere in the distance, a motorcycle buzzed its way nearer.
Brian spotted the tiny convenience store, above which the woman was said to be living. The lights were on but the windows were barred. In place of a door was only a fortified window with a sign above it: “Order here. No entry!”
The storefront was currently free of trouble. Brian tugged his wool cap down tighter over his red hair and motioned for Woodman to follow.
Brian got a few steps onto the street when the low drone of an engine came from the sky. A shadow passed overhead, cutting through the air with a sudden, bestial roar. Brian ducked on instinct as a silvery cloud jetted from above toward the brawling gangers at the end of the street.
What kind of shit was that?
He had time to catch sight of what seemed like a giant reptilian tail clear the tenements ahead before Woodman lunged in front of him. Brian peered around the freelancer toward the sound of screams. A mass of silvery liquid now covered the gangers. They writhed and yelled, their brawling forgotten, as if under attack from the substance itself.
Thankfully, Brian stopped gaping long enough to activate the camera drone on his belt. He then dashed to the cover of a parked two-seater just ahead. Woodman joined him, and the drone shifted to live report mode, framing Brian’s face with the gangers’ scene in the background.
“This is Brian Savagewood, deep within The Dirge where something—something incredible is happening.” He peered out at the gangers, most now on their knees or fallen. One still struggled to escape the goo, yelling for help. “I’ve just been witness to some kind of attack—a biological experiment gone wild. Seconds ago, the silvery mass you see was—”
Another roar cut through the night. Brian jerked his gaze up to see the dark shape in the sky again, making a second run. Metal wings, claws, and teeth dove toward him.
Woodman hollered and yanked Brian to his feet as Brian struggled to stay put. “No, wait!”
“Move!”
Another roar, and a blast of the goo slammed them both from above. Blinded and doused, Brian slammed against the concrete. Through the roaring he heard his forearm snap under him. He screamed at the pain of the break until the goo flooded into his mouth and devoured him in agony.
LVI
MICHAEL GROANED. “Where am I?” He opened his eyes. Omicron’s medical bay. Again.
“Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
He pushed himself up on his elbows to see Marette sitting at the foot of his bed. Her left hand gripped the end of a blue metal cane. Bandages wrapped her head and covered her eyes, though she wore a smile.
“My entire body tingles,” he said, and found himself smiling back. “I thought you were— It’s great to see you up.”
“Merci. I regret that I cannot say the same.”
“Do they have any optics here they can give you? Or I guess you have to heal a bit first?” He really knew nothing about cybernetic optics, and suddenly found himself missing Jade.
“Even if they did have some . . . ” Marette shook her head. “Whatever happened when Alyshur brought us here, it damaged my occipital lobe. Even if my eyes were— My brain can no longer process vision. This is permanent.”
Michael’s breath caught in his throat as he searched for what to say. “God. I’m sorry.”
“It was the choice I made. Others have paid prices far greater.”
Michael waited for her to elaborate, but she said no more, and he didn’t know her well enough to press. The silence lengthened.
“Where is everyone?” he asked finally. “The last I remember I was with Sephora on Paragon.” He could sense others nearby—humans, mostly—but could not tell who. Marc lay on a bed next to his, hooked up to health monitors, still unconscious.
“Making preparations.” Marette drew a breath, and smiled anew. “You did it, you know. The Thuur confirmed that Paragon’s biosystems are completely free of Suuthrien’s presence. Sephora says they should not have sent you against it so soon after the augmentation. You did not have time to recover your strength, and that is why you collapsed. You have been unconscious for about twelve hours. Marc and I have taken turns watching over you.”
“Hey Michael, I guess this means we’re both in the coma-club now, huh?” It was Marc’s voice! But it hadn’t come from his body. Michael sat up completely, startled. Had the augmentation made him telepathic?
He turned back to Marette. “I can hear him! I can hear Marc!”
She actually laughed. “Oui, Michael, as can I.” Marette held up a tablet screen from which Marc’s un-visored face looked back at him and grinned.
“I guess your ears still work,” said Marc.
“Marc’s body is still trapped in the coma, but Doctor Seung was able to reach his mind via his neural implant.”
“It was Marette’s idea, actually. It’s like all those AoA Council meetings I attended virtually. ‘Cept diff’rent, as Felix would say.” Marc must have seen the grief in Michael’s face because he added, “And yeah, Marette told me about Felix.”
“I tried to save him, Marc. We all did. It just . . . ”
On the screen, Marc’s eyes closed as he nodded. “I still can’t believe it.” He sighed in what Michael supposed was a virtual approximation of the emotional impulses in Marc’s thoughts. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin the happy reunion. How’s Caitlin?”
For a moment Michael was back at New Eden, hanging from the rafters as Project Quicksilver boiled up from below. “I don’t know. Managing, I hope. And determined to find out just how it happened, even though the AoA warned her off.”
“Tried to warn her off, I’m sure you mean.”
Michael glanced at Marette. “They were firm.”
Marette gave a wan smile. “I did not believe that would dissuade her. Nor would I blame her if it did not.”
“But you didn’t object to letting her go.”
“Let us just say I am not without sympathy. And I believe we are beyond containment at this point, insomuch as there is a ‘we’ anymore.”
For a time no one spoke until at last, Marc broke the silence with, “Oh! Thanks for taking care of Holes for me.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael said, chuckling. “Sorry the rest of your apartment didn’t really make it.”
“My lease was about up anyway. And Holes was the important part of the equation. Once the Thuur confirm Suuthrien was flushed from the system, he’s going to be Paragon’s new A.I.” Marc beamed like a proud parent.
“I’d wondered if that might happen. I have to ask, though: What’s with all the ‘nope?’”
“You didn’t ask him? He doesn’t like words that end in vowel sounds, if he can avoid it. And he doesn’t like the length of ‘negative.’”
“So why does he say ‘affirmative’ instead of ‘yes?’”
Marc grinned. “Because I told him to, so he could perplex people.”
Before Michael could respond, approaching footste
ps caught their attention and Angela Sheridan arrived. “Marette? Can I steal Marc? We’re just about ready for him.”
Marette motioned toward Michael, whose consciousness Sheridan only seemed to notice at that point. She gave him a smile as Marette answered, “I will join you both,” and pushed herself to her feet.
Michael sprang off the infirmary bed in turn. “Same here, whatever it is.”
“Final steps of getting Holes integrated with Paragon,” Marc said with unmistakable pride. “Probably best if I’m around for that, they figure.”
Sheridan ducked back out the door as Michael followed at Marette’s slower pace. She carried Marc in one hand, her cane in the other.
“Want me to carry Marc? Or help guide you?” Michael asked her.
“I am fine, Agent,” she answered, holding Marc’s tablet closer. “I surely know my way better with a blindfold than you do without.”
“Program integration into the bio-computational medium is now complete,” Holes reported. “I have guarded access to all primary and tertiary Paragon-Sillisinuriri systems.”
In the computer lab beneath Omicron’s Primary Control, Michael, Marette, Knapp, and Marc watched on a wall screen as Dr. Sheridan, Uxil, and Sephora worked in some sort of control chamber onboard Paragon. The processor platform that previously held Holes now sat inactive beside Sheridan, who herself worked on a portable terrestrial terminal. She was conferring with Uxil.
“Safety access overrides are in place,” Holes continued, “and may be activated or deactivated on the command of all Thuur or Agents of Aeneas personnel.”
Sheridan and Uxil nodded to each other. “Verified,” said the former. “Marc?”
“Checking,” Marc answered. A glance at the tablet in Marette’s hands still showed his face, distracted. However they’d accessed his consciousness through the neural link apparently also linked Marc to his own computer, which Michael supposed made sense. “Confirmed, yes.”
The black material on the walls of the Paragon chamber sprang to life in a mix of Thuur symbols and Holes’s own rotating, concentric green circles.
“Sephora thanks you all for your efforts in this partnership,” Uxil translated as Sephora spread her hands wide. Michael found he could not hear the Thuur elder himself. Was that due to distance, or just that she was only allowing Uxil to hear?
“And we thank her,” answered Knapp, “and all the Thuur, for joining us in this shared journey.”
“May it honor those we have lost,” Marette added. There was a moment of silence. Michael thought of Felix, whose body lay somewhere nearby. He saw David Taylor, poisoned to death as Project Quicksilver engulfed him. Again, Michael wondered how Caitlin was doing. He wondered where Jade was.
He could use one of her sly smiles right now.
“To that end,” Marette continued, “we must now decide what is next. There is still the presence of Suuthrien on Earth to deal with, among other things.”
“Project Quicksilver for one,” Michael said.
Knapp begrudged a nod. “There is also the matter of the handful of RavenTech forces remaining on Paragon near the gate.”
Uxil raised a hand. “You jeopardize our partnership if you do not uphold your agreement to eradicate the suuthrien to the best of your efforts.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” Knapp answered, “but RavenTech is the most immediate threat.”
“A minute one,” Marette said.
“But still an issue,” Sheridan warned.
“RavenTech forces have not strayed from their initial location,” Holes reported. “They cannot reactivate the gate without our permission. My access to Paragon systems should therefore allow for a number of containment or nullification options.”
“Don’t kill them, Holes,” Michael warned.
“Affirmative.”
“Holes wouldn’t kill anyone, Michael.”
“Just making sure,” he told Marc.
“In any case,” said Knapp, “once we’ve retaken the gate, we can explore the possibility of using it to reach Earth.”
Michael frowned. “If we do, I’d bet RavenTech’s going be defending it more heavily than it was the first time.”
“Agreed,” Knapp said. “And so when we capture RavenTech’s forces on this side, we’ll need to do what we can to learn what they know.”
“Additional information,” said Holes. “I project that other transport options will be available to us beyond gate travel.”
Before anyone could ask what Holes meant, a smaller window opened in the corner of the screen to show an AoA member in Omicron’s Primary Control. “Councilor Knapp, sorry to interrupt, but we’re picking up some reports from Earth that you should see.”
“What’s happening, Agent Ramad?” Knapp asked.
“It’s Quicksilver isn’t it, Jagdesh?” Marette whispered. “Suuthrien released it.”
Jagdesh nodded. “I think so. And there’s more.”
LVII
“ARE YOU SURE this thing can support my weight?” With his arms around Caitlin as he rode on the back of her Uhatsu Tempest motorcycle, Felix shouted over the wind. “I’ve put on a few pounds here, you know!”
“It carried Gideon and me both before, ducks! We should be fine!”
“I remember! Just be careful!”
“You worry about holding onto Jack’s device, let me worry about the road!”
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it! But I’ve decided to call it a ‘transmitter thingy’ instead!”
Eyes fixed on the street ahead, Caitlin sped them toward The Dirge with a knot in her gut. She might well be driving them both toward their deaths. “Dial Jade. Relay GPS location to Jade.”
The mic in Caitlin’s helmet sent the command to her phone, and Jade’s voice came through the speakers a moment later. “Hey, Caitey. Have you heard what’s going on out there?”
“Aye, that’s why I’m ringing you. Felix and I are on our way to test Jack’s device. How soon can you meet us at the Decker Street Bridge?”
“You’re crazy! You don’t rush into that sort of hell!”
“We do if we can stop it!”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Aye, we don’t! Now, am I still paying you for protection or not?”
“I’m good at what I do, Caitey, but if that device doesn’t work, bullets aren’t going to stop that stuff, to say nothing of whatever the fuck that dragon thing is.”
Caitlin revved the engine and ran a red light, cutting around a taxi as Felix shouted his alarm. Caitlin ignored him, focusing on the phone call. “There’s other dangers in The Dirge besides that stuff, Jade.”
“Is Felix with you?”
“Aye!”
“Then you’ve got protection.”
“What about your bloody professional reputation?!”
“I don’t want it on my tombstone!” Jade paused. “Look, just get in there, try the device, and get the hell out of there no matter what.”
“Jade, bollocks it all!”
“You don’t need me on this one, Caitey. I’d just slow you down.”
Jade ended the call just as Caitlin turned the Tempest onto Decker Street. The bridge loomed one hundred meters ahead. Police and emergency vehicles had begun to gather on the near side. Fire and smoke dotted the tenements on the far side. Caitlin skidded the Tempest to a stop.
“Jade’s not coming,” she told Felix.
Felix gave her a tighter squeeze. “I gathered by the yelling. Looks like they’re setting up a blockade up there. We could give the thingy to them and let them try it instead.”
Caitlin shook her head. “It’s The Dirge, Felix. They won’t risk going in there, and they don’t care. They’re only there to keep anything from coming out. We have to do this ourselves. Ride in, find some of the stuff, and pray Jack’s device works to stop it.”
“Sounds like fun,” Felix said. “But if they don’t go for it we’re going to have to get out of here pretty quick, Chewie.”
<
br /> Caitlin felt a smile creep into her lips. “This isn’t a Star Wars movie, ducks.”
“Hey! You got a reference!”
“Sometimes I do pay attention to the things you show me.”
“Well, I know, but still! Though you ruined my ‘I don’t know, ride casual’ comeback for your anticipated confusion.”
“My apologies, then.” She reached back and patted his thigh.
“You’re forgiven. …I love you, Caitlin.”
“I love you too, Felix.” On impulse, she pushed off her helmet and turned, finding Gideon’s face watching her. Though the sight startled her, she recognized the affection in that face as undeniably Felix’s. She kissed him, suddenly, warmly, closing her eyes as Felix kissed her back.
The kiss subsided. “Well,” Caitlin whispered and hefted her helmet. “Are we doing this?”
“I’m right behind you.” Felix grinned. “And also, yes.”
With her helmet once more snug on her head, Caitlin launched them toward the bridge. She ignored the few firefighters trying to wave them down, swerved around a half-formed blockade, and focused on the decrepit buildings ahead. The fires—and, they assumed, the silvery liquid—were perhaps ten blocks further on. Caitlin slowed the Tempest just a little for the sake of caution, passed the now deserted front entrance to Easy Jack’s lab, and rode onward.
“Wherever that dragon-thing is, I’m not detecting it,” said Felix. “Though I’m still not sure I’m using all my senses here.”
“Long gone, if we’re lucky.” Though if so, it might be spreading that stuff elsewhere. She reminded herself that she was only one woman. She and Felix would do what they could, where they could.
As they neared the fires, Caitlin slowed them down further. A fire department floater sailed overhead, red beacon lights flashing, on its way to drop fire retardant. Caitlin thought of Rue and the other Scry, thankful she’d already warned them out of the city, just in case.
A pack of gangers rushed out of an alley looking like they’d seen the devil. Caitlin turned down a street parallel to the alley and slowed even further.
A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) Page 33