by JM Guillen
“This is why you had us switch off our Crowns?” I cocked my head at him.
“Sometimes the message is so garbled that more than the patch comes through all missegmented.” Stone paused. “Here the message isn’t at a damaging frequency.” He shrugged.
“Aberrant vectors.” Wyatt looked to me. “The Gatekeeper won’t be much help to her then. Not if space isn’t behaving.”
“Ninety-one hours.” I gazed at Demetrius, thinking. “Wherever she is, time is ticking by three times as fast.”
“Affirmative.” He nodded, his voice like liquid caramel. “Which is why, if we choose to retrieve her, we must act soon.”
Anya looked briefly at Stone but longer at Wyatt and I. “If Asset Delacruz can be retrieved, that makes her our priority via protocol sigma-eight.”
“Twitchy is right, Hoss.” Wyatt seemed almost apologetic. “If we can, we should.”
“No, I agree.” I was ready for this to all be over, but our choice was clear. I looked to Stone and nodded.
“Excellent.” His wide smile both charmed and irritated me in like degrees. “Fortunately for us, even though Asset Delacruz is adrift in an alternate topiatic locality, the means to reach her is readily available.”
“It is?” Wyatt almost smiled, relieved at a situation not being damned near impossible for once.
“Indeed.” Stone took two steps toward the double doors and paused in reaching for one. “I believe that one factor in receiving her message is this location.”
“Why is that?” I glanced at Wyatt, who shrugged.
“Because, Michael,” Stone stated in his tiger’s purr, “This next room is the exact location of the backlash.”
“The exact…” I stopped speaking, my mind whirling.
Stone raised one eyebrow as he opened the door. A weirding half-light spilled from the room.
Anya gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
For a moment, I didn’t quite grasp what I saw. When I did— “Oh.” My heart fell as my mind put it all together. “Oh, fuck me.”
“Of course.” Wyatt looked from the hellish landscape to me. His weary tone said everything. “Of course it would be this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
More than anything, I hated that he was right.
35
“You said that Subject X lived outside Rationality.” I stared into the hallway, which swarmed with pulsing symbiont blossoms. They writhed in the eerie half-light, thin tendrils reaching for us. “Could it be—?”
“Oh, Michael.” Stone’s tone could have come from a doting professor. “You already understand. That’s exactly what I believe.”
There is a sharp spike toward supra-Rationality in this room. Anya reverted to linking while taking telemetry. Her fingers danced and plucked at thin air, casting strange shadows on the walls.
“Sadhana has already been in Topiatic Locality 287, haven’t they? The topia where the young woman came from?” I turned back to face Stone.
“Not only that,” Wyatt interjected. “They travelled to 287, hijacked Subject X, and…” He pointed at the symbiont slime. “I’m bettin’ good money that this shit is from her topia, her home.”
“I can only guess, my friends.” Stone stared into the hallway of horrific symbionts. “All I know for certain is that Delacruz is in there somewhere.”
It is, in fact, an alternate topiatic locality. The Axiomatic Realmwall is practically nonexistent through here. Anya paused as if she felt uncertain. According to my telemetry, Aberrant Species 388 is more than just a symbiont.
“Yeah?” Wyatt turned to Anya. “Whaddya got, princess?”
For a long moment, Anya did not answer. Her head twitched twice, short, jerky movements, while her ice-blue eyes gazed into the horror of glistening tendrils and mismatched organs.
Slowly, her fingers stopped moving. For a long moment, she held them in place, still as death.
“Anya?” Wyatt’s worry came through his voice and his lack of a nickname.
“The creature reproduces and expands like…” She glanced back to Stone and then me. “A parasitic topia.”
“It’s a what now?” Wyatt punched a few keys on the tangler, as if eager to fire off some spikes.
Anya nodded curtly to herself, becoming ever more certain. “Yes. It is definitely a supra-Rational alternate topiatic locality.” She glanced back to us again. “But it is also a living thing.”
“It’s a fucking disgusting living thing.” Wyatt shuddered.
“The further we advance, the sharper the ambient Rationality shifts will be.” Anya faced Stone. “In approximately twenty-four meters, we will no longer be within Rationality at all.”
“It won’t even be twenty-four meters before Sofia’s automatic message will stabilize.” Stone turned to me. “If we can get closer, we can receive that patch. If we can get that patch to the Caduceus, she may be able to tell us something about the place.”
“Agreed.” Wyatt took a step back. “If someone can get closer, they can do that.”
“You can’t do that walking backward.” I frowned at him.
“Well, I mean…” He gave me a shit-eating grin. “You’re a lot closer than I am. Plus, you’ve got the Spectre.”
“The Spectre!” Stone sounded as if a brick made of pure genius had just fallen from the sky and struck Wyatt on the head. “Michael, you can go in with no risk at all. You should even be able to respond to Delacruz’s message.”
You go, Johnny Stallion. Wyatt’s link was private.
I glared at Wyatt.
“Oh, yeah.” I sighed. “I totally can.”
“Asset 217’s transmission should solidify approximately fifteen meters in.” Anya sounded almost apologetic. “I will go with you if you wish.”
“No.” I didn’t want to be a pouty child, but God, the thought of those unnatural organs, pulsing in the dim light made my skin crawl. “No, I got it.” I faced Stone. “I assume you will leave your Crowns on until I return?”
“That’s wise.” Anya nodded. “Your Crown will relay Asset 217’s transmission.”
“Thanks to you, we’ll all be able to receive it.” Wyatt nodded.
“Thanks to me.” I shook my head. “Fine. No problem.”
To my immeasurable credit, I managed to make it past the first four or five small blossoms before I engaged the Spectre. Like a great hero of old, I managed to not piss my pants as the first of the tendrils reached for me.
“Fuck this.” I muttered as I toggled the packet. Just looking at those misshapen, wet globules, with the occasional malformed eye or unknown organ thrown in for flavor, made me shudder.
Luckily, the passageway narrowed, bringing them closer.
Goodie.
I engaged my optics, even though I actually didn’t want to see any better.
If you meet your next girlfriend in there, let me know, Wyatt linked. I know you like ’em Irrational.
I didn’t dignify that with a response.
Five steps further and the passage became narrower yet, the blossoms growing together like a giant, red fungus.
As I ducked beneath what looked like a nodule of wet organ meat, Delacruz’s message came again:
This is Sofia Delacruz, Asset 217. I am alive. This message has been broadcasting for 91 hours, since the events of Dossier I88-1998. My systems are currently operational.
I am adrift in an unknown topiatic locality.
Spatial axioms are supra-Rational, and contain aberrant vectors. Be advised: There are dangerous creatures native to this location, as well as sentient beings who may be hostile.
Recommend a Caduceus review the following before attempting extraction. Patch incoming.
This time, the patch didn’t warble and screech in my mind. I got the definite feel of words passing, but they weren’t assembled as nicely as the typical Facility patch. Instead, they all drifted together in a noisy morass, a symphony of nonsense that lasted all of thirty seconds.
Message receiv
ed. I linked my cadre. But it’s still segmented poorly.
If you keep that pace, Stone’s link felt solid in my mind, you’ll probably be able to receive it fully a couple of transmissions from now.
I thought about what he said and realized that I didn’t want to be inside the symbiont that much longer. I toggled the Adept, deciding that every little bit of grace counted, and ran through the reaching, writhing blossoms.
Soon, a crimson, wet mass covered the walls, ceiling, and most of the floor, not even a line to show the division between them. The entire thing pulsed and throbbed, parts of it engorging with fluids and gasses, then releasing them.
Again I thanked the nameless Designate who chose my packets during the cold boot.
Michael. Anya’s link held just a touch of static, which alarmed me. The signal should be strong enough there to receive it clearly.
Copy that. As I linked, I noticed a small branch leading from the main corridor. A bit shorter than me and cramped, but the odd half-light of this place seemed to shine more brightly through that passage.
Did it perhaps open up beyond that?
I couldn’t afford to not take a look. If it did open up, there might be a place free from symbiont blossoms. That would come in handy for the inevitable, bullshit moment when the Spectre realized that its link with the Lattice had weakened, then began initiating its failsafe.
No sooner had I entered the smaller passage than the symbiont rippled, a grotesque movement that shivered through the entire hallway, like a stomach roiling in disgust. One of the odd, violet organs hanging on the left-hand wall opened a small orifice, and a string of yellow, mucous-like slime ran out onto the floor.
Ew! Reflexively, I linked. Ew! Ew! Ew!
Is all well, Michael? Stone’s link held genuine concern, awash with static.
How could—? I stopped mid-link, staring around. One of the tendrils, which terminated in a small, nearly colorless eyeball, blinked slowly.
Fine. I finished the link. Everything’s fine.
The passage wound left and then right again before finally opening up.
I still crouched a bit, unwilling to even come close to the slime-covered organism, when Delacruz sounded in my Crown again, a soft, Hispanic curl to her linked words.
I paused, waiting. This time a whole and properly segmented patch ported straight to my Crown.
Got it! I grinned elatedly. I’m porting it back.
Cop– that. I felt Stone’s smile through the link but scarcely made out his words.
Received, Michael. Proce— Anya’s link collapsed into static.
My heart began to pound the moment I lost her. Do you read me, Anya?
Nothing but static.
As I pondered my options, the Spectre suddenly realized that the Lattice no longer coordinated my ghostly antics. A low warning buzz, more felt than heard, began to vibrate at the base of my skull.
As adrenaline rushed through my veins, I realized I had a particularly shitty choice to make. The Spectre would begin to glitch, just a matter of time. If I ran back the way I came, I didn’t know if I could make it before I had to disengage the packet. But of course, I would touch the Lattice that way, and it might refresh quickly.
Might. I didn’t fancy being a pile of semi-dead goo.
Alternatively, the more I travelled along this narrow passageway, the more it opened up and the brighter the creepy pseudo-light became. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that a much larger area lay ahead. Perhaps I could safely disengage the Spectre there.
The buzzing grew stronger.
In the end, the message made up my mind. Those first few words—some of the most hopeful we could have received, drove me onward:
This is Sofia Delacruz, Asset 217. I am alive.
I knew exactly how it felt to be adrift in an alien world, and I also knew that Sofia’s Crown must be active in order for her to send the message. Since I had finally received her signal clearly when I stepped down this passage…
She was this way. She had to be.
I wagered everything I had.
Pushing the Adept for every drip of speed it could grant me, I hurled myself down the passage, no longer worrying about my out-of-phase body passing through disgusting aberrant physiology.
I took the next sharp turn easily, paying no heed to the maw-like orifice set into the wall, with bony, teeth-like growths down its throat.
Abruptly, the passage ended, opening wide into what appeared to be the mouth of a small cave. Beyond the entrance, more of that faint ghostlight emanated from a small clearing.
I pushed so hard that I scarcely considered how hard the gray stone ground might be before hurling myself upon it, panting, and disengaged the Spectre.
“Made it!” I panted on all fours, my breath pulling like a bellows in my chest.
Looking up, I tried to get a good read on my surroundings.
A cavern? Confusion creased my brow. I stared upward, my gaze met only by a vast arch of jagged, gray stone, easily a hundred meters over my head.
I pushed myself up, trying to take in the vast vista of weirdness around me.
Everything about this place seemed impossible.
Yes, a cavern, easily twice as large as any cave I’d ever imagined. A crimson mist hung low to the ground, bathing the surface of everything in a humid, moist awfulness that made me feel unclean.
I swirled my hand through it, watching with fascination.
It’s where the light comes from, I mused. That uncanny, soft glow that seemed to have no source was actually the mist, glowing weirdly through some process I couldn’t grasp.
The cavern contained the kind of lush jungle that H.R. Giger might construct, a malformed vision of rain forest gone bizarre. The trees looked soft, more like a fungal fruiting body than a true tree, yet a forest of them towered over my head, stretching off into a valley beyond. Long rivulets of thin, brilliantly yellow strands burst from the top of the tree-like things, spouting up in a crown, then dipping low like willow branches, although these spouted wicked-looking fangs at their ends.
All through the trees and occasionally on the bare stone ground, symbiont blossoms grew. In many instances, they covered the trees in the same kind of hard chitin that I had seen on the Artisan Asset, almost like armor.
“Why can’t I ever stumble onto a world filled with whiskey and steak?” I shook my head in faint disgust as I watched one of the blood-blossoms open its drooling maw, tendrils waving hypnotically from within.
Almost as if attempting to answer, the maw snapped shut, opened, and snapped again, making a wet gurgling noise as it did.
Stopping the abuse of my senses, I turned away.
As I looked off into the valley, I saw what had been right in front of my eyes the entire time. The Yucatán. It was obvious, so obvious that I could only guess my mind had refused to see it.
A fucking pyramid stretched into the cavern sky, nestled snugly in the jungle. Its jagged steps gleamed, surrounded by small fires that burned a fierce scarlet-orange in the distance. It looked exactly like the ruins I had seen on my dossier in the Yucatán, so much so that my mind had a difficult time grasping the differences.
“Time for optics.” I made the mental tick to switch them on and engaged magnification.
Then this bizarre world opened her secrets to me.
Stone structures peppered the jungle, cleverly crafted buildings and statuaries that would have been considered obscene almost anywhere in the Rational world. Sleek women had been carved in the most unlikely poses, often copulating with men given the features of jaguars.
People moved among the structures; not that I could make out many details, except that they were definitely bipedal and humanoid. It did look as if most were bald.
Shaved heads?
Maybe.
“Perhaps I’m in this a bit deep.” I frowned. In the moment that I’d chosen the small, branched path, it had seemed like the most likely way to not be a victim of the Spectre’s whims
y. But now…
Now I was every bit as adrift as Delacruz.
“Stupid.” I frowned. “This is the kind of thing they’re always going on about.” I had to admit, if I hadn’t had the Spectre, I would have definitely taken my time.
My cadre lay far behind me and, from everything we had gathered, it seemed as if time pranced along a bit faster here.
“So ten minutes there is thirty here.” I frowned. How long would they wait before coming in after me?
Deciding to take in the wider view, I disengaged my optics. Perhaps something in this maddened jungle would make sense, some other detail…
No. The stone-sky above looked as if it had hung there for a thousand generations. Behind me, the cave sat, filled with repulsive aberrations.
Ahead, an unending sea of symbiont, fungal forests, and crimson mist surrounded me.
Going back without the Spectre sounded horrific, but my cadre had only that path to reach me, didn’t they? Wouldn’t they have to push through the gore and grasping tendrils to find me?
Not a pleasant thought.
“They’ll come.” I nodded to myself. Wyatt and Anya had been solid on their thoughts about rescuing Delacruz, after all.
“And they’ve never even met her,” I muttered.
I picked up a piece of stone. It didn’t look like any rock I had ever seen before, more like a sliver of bone than anything else.
Turning it over in one hand, I rubbed my chin as I mulled my options. They would certainly come for me. That being the case, it seemed foolish to step back into the gaping maw of the cave tunnel. That would risk feeding myself to the symbiont, and besides, as they searched for Delacruz, they would have to pass this point anyway.
Only one plan made sense.
I powered up my secondary comm, the one that didn’t require the Lattice. It crackled, clunky and cumbersome in my mind, but at least it functioned.
I spent a moment compiling my first message. At first, I tried to put into words the emotions boiling in my stomach. Then finally, I decided that simple would work best.