Aberrant Vectors: A Cyberpunk Espionage Tale of Eldritch Horror (The Dossiers of Asset 108 Book 3)

by JM Guillen

  I know. I felt it when we stood near the Breach. It was quite strong. Delacruz gave a small half shrug. But I can’t feel it at all here.

  My gaze settled on the chitin-like growth on her forehead and the golden light that danced there. If what Gideon had said were true, Rachel had the specifications regarding the symbiont and had processed that data. Something could be done to disentangle Sofia from Ar’Ghosa.

  Yet I wondered if she wanted that.

  WHUF! Wyatt set another spike a few steps behind me. It sparked, throwing off brilliant bits of blue and gold like a knife held against a grinding wheel.

  CRACK! Something far above our heads split loudly, causing us to jump. Wyatt held the business end of the tangler at the ready, while Delacruz and I stared up uneasily, slowly turning in place.

  Without word or warning, the walls of reality began to silently melt around us.

  The sky above and the horizon around us looked much as they had the moment Wyatt laid the first spike, rippling and shimmering like a mirage. This time, however, it wasn’t simply some small portion of the archway revealing itself.

  We had reached some kind of axiomatic tipping point, and space around us began to shift, to give way. Everything shimmered, a thousand lights scintillating around us.

  I still have the vector coordinates for our extraction. Delacruz looked to Wyatt, then Anya, then me as the horizon shimmered and coiled around us. If we need to [go quickly], we are fine.

  We don’t even know that this is a problem. I felt the link shift as Wyatt added Gideon to our conversation. Catalyst, are you online?

  What followed made my heart drop to somewhere around the level of my knees.

  FIvvve… FIVe… ThrEE… EighT… Ne-ine… NINE… two-oo… Onnne…

  Are you fucking serious? I grit my teeth at the familiar drone of the woman’s voice.

  ThRrree… EIGHt… Won-ne…

  Fucking fuck this! Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. Sofia, I’m going to throw the rest of these down as quickly as I can. If the vector for our extraction becomes unstable, tell me immediately, and I’ll stop.

  Copy that. She didn’t take her eyes off the horizon.

  Wyatt went back to work.

  The next spike he placed took effect, and we began to make out the overall shape of the structure around us. The archways curved far overhead, constructed from the same black substance as the floor. Occasionally, bands of bluish-silver wrapped around them, and the inscribed letters became ever clearer.

  Not that they made any sense.

  I’m tracking twenty-two of Stone’s little flecks. Delacruz linked, a trace of wonder bleeding through. They’re beautiful.

  I agreed with her, though perhaps it wasn’t possible not to. The light the motes gave off had a wonderful quality to it, causing an almost indescribable awe.

  I remembered the emotions that had bled through Stone’s link when he first asked me about his case. For the first time, I wondered if it possible to crave being bathed in that eldritch light.

  WHUF! Wyatt ignored everything except the task at hand. As his most recent spike sparked in the near darkness, I heard how fiercely he tapped at his keys.

  “…have a very limited amount of time.” The voice rambled through the darkness with no particular source. “I have to admit that I assumed we would be finished by now.”

  Each of us froze in place, staring wide-eyed at the others.

  Anya was the first to move, craning her neck around as she searched for the source of the spectral voice.

  “I understand that,” the same voice proclaimed, in response to something we had not heard. “I’m simply telling you, I don’t know how much more time you have.”

  Did I know that voice?

  We have guests. Sofia’s link came across a touch sharp, even as she stated the obvious.

  You still have the specifics on that aperture? Wyatt too peered into the near darkness.

  Copy that, Sofia affirmed.

  I’m going to take a little bit of a look around. I cocked my head. We are definitely not alone, and I don’t like that at all.

  Understood, Bishop. Wyatt gave me a thumb’s up. Watch your ass.

  I slipped into the shadows, focused upon what I heard even more than what I saw. I’d only taken about twelve steps before the voice came again.

  “It’s one thing to say that this is an amazing discovery.” The voice sounded impatient, and as I listened I realized it was in fact familiar.

  But where had I heard it?

  “It doesn’t matter how important a discovery is if we don’t know how to use it.”

  WHUF! Behind me, Wyatt placed another spike. In that instant, above my head, the ghostly archways became completely solid and connected to the floor.

  We’re approaching some other frequency of axiomatic reality. Anya’s link came cool, certain in my mind.

  Gotta be, Wyatt acknowledged. Spikes’re solidifying the axiomatic specifications of this place.

  When Gideon said the matrices underwent a spontaneous adjustment, I thought he simply meant things were somewhat adrift. I crept forward as I linked. You’re saying part of The Spire branched off into a splintered topiatic locality?

  To a somewhat limited degree, Michael.

  Whatever [the hell is] happening, Guthrie’s spikes are revealing more of our surroundings.

  They’re strengthening Rationality in our area. Wyatt’s link seemed slightly distracted; I assumed he was readying a spike. Only a few more, folks, then we can catch the bus home.

  It felt good to know that we were on the right track. Gideon wanted the matrices strengthened. Once they came online, The Spire should be clear.

  However, I didn’t think Gideon realized that we had visitors down here. Every spike that Wyatt fired brought our location more and more into alignment with wherever the matrices had drifted.

  And with whoever was there.

  WHUF! The sound of the tangler seemed somewhat distant, perhaps forty meters behind me, though I hadn’t walked that far.

  As I crept forward, I began to perceive that some of the structure around me remained quite ephemeral. Yet the archways above my head had solidified and were now as solid as I myself. Four great arches crossed in the middle where a large silver segment bound them together.

  Wait. Four? As I peered into the darkness, I could see others, vaguely hanging in the shadows. Eleven? Twelve?

  A few moments of math made my head hurt.

  Twelve arches at thirty-three degrees in Euclidian space? Impossible.

  The writing that Delacruz had seen was quite apparent, however the words weren’t static. They moved, slithering and wriggling across the dark stone archways like a nest of snakes.

  Other structures appeared around me, ghostly forms hiding behind thick shadows. Far smaller than the great archways, these structures mirrored them in shape and curve.

  I stepped forward, trying to get a closer view as Wyatt’s tangler sang again.

  WHUF!

  Yet again, Wyatt’s algorithm shifted the world around me. As I stared, the smaller structures in front of me snapped more strongly into view.

  In the center of the constructs was a graceful curving arc made of lapis lazuli. The stone ran with veins of gold and white against a sea of brilliant, primal blue. The column itself stood approximately six meters tall, square at the base, but curved strongly to my right.

  It was gorgeous; a sleek piece of stone that looked as graceful as water. Yet even this was only the centerpiece of the construct.

  I feel like I’m in an art museum. I patched Delacruz a quick copy of my visual, not wanting to annoy Anya or Wyatt. You ever seen anything like this?

  No. I could almost see the way she screwed up her face as she linked.

  Check this out. I sent a second patch, showing her another view. Around the main column lay a semicircle of smaller stones each a sandy white with pyramidal copper tips.

  And this. I sent a third, showing spherical stones floating aro
und the main structure. Like orbiting planets, they drifted around the arc of lapis lazuli as if held in place by some force more fundamental than gravity.

  Each held a striation of fascinating colors except one surrounded by a nimbus of dark, flickering energy that hurt my eyes.

  I would definitely suggest fucking around with those things. I felt her sarcasm drip through my mind. I’m bringing that up now, because I know that Michael Bishop is the kind of man who needs to be prodded into experimenting with dangerous, unknown technologies.

  I am known as a man of caution. I crept forward, mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of the spheres. Seriously, Delacruz. What the fuck do you think this place is?

  The Spire. Her response was almost sharp. And that’s all I need to know.

  I walked around the side of the arching stone, rapt with the simple grace of the thing. Looking up, I realized that of course this location lay directly beneath the conflux of gigantic archways rising above us.

  “—could be what we’ve been looking for,” the mysterious voice mused in little more than an echo. Still, my pulse raced just at the sound, made eerie by the apparent lack of a source.

  WHUF! The tangler sounded again, followed by a bursting brilliance of violet violent light. It was another of the odd little motes, orbiting the structure like a tiny comet, heralding the end of days.

  “That’s it then.” This time, the voice was as close as my next breath.

  Slowly, I turned. In the deepest pit of my stomach, I knew exactly who this was.

  “Maybe we should just blow the whole fucking thing.” The Padre paced as he spoke, gazing up at the construct from the opposite side.

  Behind him, in the shadows, I saw the silhouettes of other men.

  The Padre continued to speak, although I heard no one reply. Frozen in place, my eyes drank in every detail. The Padre looked rough, with torn clothing and a wound on the side of his head. He had apparently been through the wringer. Offhandedly, I noticed that the sight of blood did not inspire poetic savagery in my heart.

  Delacruz, we have Sadhana agents onsite. I patched a quick image from my perspective, so she would know exactly who I talking about.

  [Piece of shit.] Her anger was like boiling mud in my mind. Think you can kill him this time?

  Like I’m going to say no. I toggled the Adept and stepped sideways through the shadows. How’s this? I’ll do my damnedest.

  Do better than that. I felt the grim glint in her dark eyes. He deserves it.

  Copy that.

  Twitchy and I are gonna keep at it, Hoss. Wyatt’s link sounded apologetic. Not much use in a tussle just now.

  Roger that. Get it done.

  So far, it did not seem as if the Padre had seen me, focused as he was on the garden of metal and stone between us.

  Cautiously, I shifted sideways again, careful to remain within the shadows. It was difficult with the purple-hued brilliance shining not five meters away, but it seemed as if the Padre were distracted by—

  I stopped, my eyes wide. In an instant, I understood why I had only heard half of the Padre’s conversation.

  “Of fucking course,” I muttered to myself, my eyes going hard at the sight before me.

  There, on the other side of the column of lapis, stood one of the Drażeri, peering at the stone. He wore a long ceremonial robe and held an iron rod in one hand. Green fire danced along its length.

  The moment I saw him, our eyes met, and his gaze filled with midnight and madness.

  A slow smile spread across his face.

  “Oh fuck,” I breathed. Reflexively, I took a step back. Folks, we have a problem.

  61

  Hoss? My tone had apparently caught Wyatt off guard, as there was no teasing or playfulness in his link.

  Four Sadhana agents, I linked quickly as I could. I watched the Drażeri turn to the Padre, most assuredly sending him telepathic love notes.

  “Well now.” The Padre chuckled, ran a hand along the side of his face, and turned to me. “I think I remember you, boy.”

  “I’m not interested.” I cocked my head to one side. “But don’t worry. You’re still pretty.”

  “Heh.” The Padre glanced behind himself, at a man that, I now realized, wore a rebreather mask. “Didn’t we already kill this shithead once?”

  “We did.” This time, the man in the rebreather mask didn’t hold one of the Calicos in his left hand, but a mean little Glock. “Asshole doesn’t know to stay dead.”

  “A lack of manners is a shameful thing.” The Padre mused as he ran a hand over his smooth head. “That’s the problem with Facility boys. If you don’t handle things right the first time—”

  A furious scarlet light and keening song came from beneath his feet where an aperture abruptly appeared.

  The Padre swore viciously and lunged to one side at the first whisper of that sibilant song.

  Everything exploded around me.

  “It’s that fucking bitch!” One of the other men called. “Fan out! Shoot anything that moves!”

  I couldn’t decide whether I should be pleased at the fact that they were no longer focused on me or irritated that Delacruz apparently struck such terror into their hearts, while I had been forgotten.

  Lost from us, a wanderer in the wood,

  Yet found again, far from true hearth and home.

  The Drażeri’s words came with a hammer of mental images that pounded themselves into my mind one after the other.

  Oh. Apparently, I hadn’t been forgotten.

  Not all.

  I saw the distant and wild vista of Dhire Lith, the labyrinthine streets that stretched into forever, the walled terraces under the broken sky. I saw darkened caves beneath the world where thousands of the Vyriim came together to breed and consume the bodies of their most faithful servants.

  Behind it all, I felt the whisper of a woman. I smelled something vanilla and something muskier, more earthy.

  For a brief, panicked moment, ten-thousand questions plagued me. How could he possibly recognize me? How could he know so much?

  In the darkened distance, I heard the cries of a man as he fell from an impossible height.

  One of Sophia’s apertures glowed and sang somewhere overhead, but I couldn’t see where without looking away from the Drażeri.

  He stepped toward me, darkness burning in his empty eyes. Then he held his iron rod out to one side as fierce green flames traveled along it and illuminated the forsaken script inscribed into it.

  The curving brands on his body pulsed a lurid red.

  Drażeri! It was the only thing I had time to link.

  He fell upon me, his weapon held high. My katana clanged with the impact, keeping the rod above my head. The Adept allowed me to perceive and react to the strike long before it came, but it was still very difficult to defend against. To protect my sharpened blade from the impact, I had my wrist turned in an awkward pose as the Drażeri bore down upon me.

  “Little far from home, aren’t you?” I spat as he pushed down, slowly bearing me to my knees. “What brings you out?”

  The Drażeri’s grin was wicked, and his words were hateful knives:

  Secret, hidden deep within the tower

  A Bound of Light, Wind, and eldritch power.

  He swung again, rudely choosing to not explain what exactly the holy fuck he talking about.

  I leapt sideways and allowed the sharp blade to take the pounding of the thick iron.

  The Drażeri knew exactly what he doing, stepping into me and pushing my blade aside.

  Which was fine.

  I drew my disruptor, aimed, and fired.

  He leapt to the side, but I followed, driving him back toward the stone of the construct.

  Every time I fired, the Drażeri leapt aside with what had to be psionic-enhanced speed.

  Mike! The panic in Sofia’s link felt like a burning, tangible thing. Behind—!

  I spun just in time to see rebreather boy turn toward me, glock in hand. When I tried
dodging to the left, he turned with me, keeping me squarely in his sight.

  He fired, but the instant before, I engaged the Spectre packet. The bullets were shards of December as they tore through me.

  I didn’t know you had Spectre geared! An aperture opened beneath the feet of the Drażeri as he attempted to slip up behind me.

  Only the best for me, I confirmed but turned serious. They have psionic capabilities. Spinning toward rebreather-boy, I disengaged the packet and caught him in the leg with my katana. Wherever the Drażeri’s coming out, he’s probably not falling.

  Holy shit. The link came gilded with a touch of awe, and I assumed she watched the Drażeri in action. Copy that.

  “Fuck!” That was Rebreather Ralph who, I just now noticed, happened to be wearing one of Sadhana’s clever little bracers beneath the flowing fabric of his shirt. As he pulled his sleeve up, I caught a glimpse of a brilliant sky-blue fire. “Let’s just end this now, shall we?” The smile on his face pulled manically at his cheeks, and his eyes shone wide and wild in the twilight glow of the room.

  He activated his device.

  My world fell, swallowed in a sea of lightning and agony. I screamed. I had never known anything like it.

  The Sadhana operative took a step closer to me, holding the button down on his device.

  An endless torrent of electricity poured through me. The resulting muscle spasms made me lurch, and I collapsed on my side and wailed in agony.

  Mike!

  I could hear Sofia but couldn’t respond. My heart burned its way out of my chest as electric torment coursed through me.

  An eternity of pain burned and scorched through my body. I felt my Crown vibrate in my skull.

  Then, abruptly, blissfully, it stopped.

  I gasped, my eyes flying open. For a long moment, I lay in place, trembling and twitching.

  [Fucking asshole!] Sofia’s link felt sharp, laced with venom.

  I blinked rapidly and looked up. Mere meters away, the Sadhana operative roared in pain, his fingers clenched around the bracer on his arm.

  Lightning poured out of the device into one of Sofia’s apertures that had appeared between us. The crackling force poured back out of another situated right above the man. Torrents of electric power thrummed into him. His eyeballs smoked in his head as he screamed. His muscles clamped tightly, and he held the button down, his grip firm.