by A. J. Mayall
Phoenix looked at the machine, feeling pressure building in his mind, as he hovered over and descending into it. The ceiling had been already deconstructed, and the faint light of the outside crept over the rim of the cylindrical holding cell in the center of the cube. Phoenix closed his eyes and extended his senses outward, hitting the machine with his power, attuning to it. Linville watched as the panels outside came to life, lights flickering on and speeding up.
Phoenix reached out to the systems, the energy, the patterns becoming incandescent on the surface of his silhouette. He began to flex and flux the patterns, his hands’ glow causing the darkened room to show itself. Soon, the walls flickered and the panels turned on. He turned his wrist, as if gripping an apple from a tree and pulled his hand down, the room suddenly blindingly bright. There were levels to this device the likes of which he’d never seen in a man-made system before. He pushed his power harder, trying to make the machine his, to make it obey.
It resisted.
Phoenix’s eyes went wide, and in the blinding brightness of the light he cried out and fell to his feet, the cylinder going dark and the various screens outside dimmed.
“The hell is this thing?” he said to himself, as he felt dampness on his face. He felt over his upper lip and pulled his hand back, fingertips red.
“Linville!” Phoenix called out, “get your men out of the area!”
“Is it dangerous?” Linville called back, his footsteps getting fainter to Phoenix’s ears as he walked back.
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”
Suzette walked out of the local jeweler’s and put a small package in her purse before taking out her phone. A few beeps later and Angelique picked up on the other end.
“What’s up, Suze?”
“Nothing much, just out and about. Doing some errands. What are you doing?”
“Just hit up some surplus shops and a few consignment stores for supplies.”
“You’re really taking to the fashion thing, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, a little. I mean it’s something to do and I might be able to make some money off it in the future.”
“Not to mention it means it’s one less thing to buy you at Christmas.”
“You got plans tonight?”
“Kinda sorta. I need to make a few calls. If you stop by Mom and Dad’s place, send my love.”
“You doing okay, Suzette?”
“Yeah, it’s been a weird day. You know, things coming to a close. It’s time to move on from a few things. Talk to you later, okay?”
“We still on for dinner tomorrow?”
“You betcha.”
Suzette turned off the phone and smiled, looking up at the afternoon sun as it hung over the canyon, making the shadows of the overhead roads intermingle with the trees planted on the streets. It was time.
She sent off a quick text: It’s time this whole thing comes to an end. With Basseri in jail, we both know Jack’s the one. I’d like to meet one more time and hand over some paperwork. With respect, Suzette DiMarco.
She held her finger over the send button and thought back to the events leading to this moment. She bit her lower lip and depressed her thumb.
Immediately after, she sent a message off to Jack: Can we meet for lunch? I want to talk with you about something important. Her thumb hovered over the send button again and she paused before ending the sentence with a smile face emoticon.
Not even a minute passed before she got a message back from Jack: Sure thing!
She paused before bringing up the previous conversation, she sighed. She had nothing but respect for the man, but it was time for the next chapter of this story.
Change of plans, I’ll leave the paperwork on your desk. I have a lunch date with Jack. Wish me luck.
Phoenix sat in the cylinder, pulling a hand out to the wall. He focused his mind on the smooth surface, the circle of the floor, and the straight lines of the various modules. He breathed in through his nose, the sting of iron in his nostrils as he gathered his emotions, pushing outward, chasing the wires, the patterns, the programming.
Again, he felt a resistance.
Admittedly, it was weaker, and he knew he could overpower it, but it was a sensation the likes of which he’d never encountered. It was if he were trying to solve a puzzle box constantly reconfiguring itself, and for a moment, he wished MacKenzie hadn’t been such an asshole. He could use a man like that right now. But he could also treat it like a Gordian knot.
His hands glowed once more, brightening the room, which activated and glowed of its own accord. Phoenix, seeing the flash coming a moment before the walls activated, closed his eyes and pushed back. The glow off his hands lifted away, forming spinning rings, like cogs of light, runes flashing and shifting as they whirred and spun.
He held his arms out to his sides, the ring like gears of light expanding, gaining more and more complexity as he did it. Phoenix snarled as he brought both hands together, the energies gathered merging and penetrating into the core of the machine. Sometimes to get a spider out of a room, you have to burn the room down.
The machine sparked in protest, the lights flaring brighter until Phoenix felt the heat on his face. Still, he pressed on until he saw through his eyelids that the room had gone dark.
“There you go, you son of a bitch, who’s your daddy?!” he yelled. Phoenix pushed the energy and patterns to the left, the dark area moving off, causing a spinning strobe effect in the room. He felt the patterns click in place, the walls settling on a calm half-lit setting.
He moved to the center of the room, reaching out, his hands almost curled like claws; he pulled energy toward him, forcing panels open. The toilet, the trash bin, a shower unfolded from near the ceiling as smaller panels forming a spiral staircase. He kept pulling and pushing, every variant configuration coming out, except the one he sought.
“Oh, no, you’re hiding something…” He pushed another burst of will into the machine, causing a panel on the outside to spark. The maintenance panel revealed itself. Phoenix hovered over to it, gripped it with both hands and interfaced with the machine.
“You’ve been a bad boy…you don’t want me to ground you. Fess up.”
He pushed his will into the password screen. In his mind’s eye, he saw a large sphere, until closer inspection revealed it wasn’t actually round, but a polygon so multifaceted it may as well have been.
“Let me in,” he said.
He pushed his will at the sphere, making it spin, data clusters, false information, extraneous programming falling off and vanishing out of sight. Layer after tiny layer, the information fell away, slowly eroding away under the constant force of his will grinding on it, commanding it to reveal itself. Phoenix felt dizzy, and he knew he was bleeding from the nose again, and most likely had been for some time.
He gave one more push with his will, spots starting to show in his vision. The machine’s wheezing noises became a low hum. Access had been granted.
He looked through the files, verifying they would be safe if separated from their host. With the strange behavior of the machine’s core patterns of operation, he didn’t want to take any chances. The will had been broken, and the room obeyed him like a tamed bronco. Phoenix simply worried about a spike in the resistant force, and once he was convinced, he sent the various files to Linville’s phone, sending another copy to one of his FogDrives. The machine did resist losing the data, trying to pull it back, to keep it safe.
“What the hell did Basseri make…?” he said, before he saw his shirt drenched in red, as well as a puddle he nearly slipped on. He shuddered, the blood loss catching up to him, as well as exhaustion from the exercising of his will. He collapsed face first into the wall, slipping into unconsciousness on the floor of the Room of Light, which purred like a kitten playing with a fly.
The sun was high in the sky when Officer Jack Hoffman walked back to the station, adjusting his cap as he strode in the front door and nodded to the sergeant behind the desk.
“Hey Jack,” the sandy brown-haired man said in passing, “your girlfriend is waiting for you at your office.”
“Leave it to Dorian to make me late for a lunch date.”
“Wasn’t she involved in the stuff Maxwell did? I mean, she’s in there with the rest of The Pack.”
“Hey. This is a police station. They were following orders. It’s the reason I’m Beta now. I’m gonna whip them into shape or I’ll send them packing. This is a last chance for them, but Pack Mentality…you don’t know what it’s like to be under the influence of an Alpha.”
“You resisted it, though.”
“I have experience with this sort of thing. I’ve had my last chance already; it’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“She’s in there with Dorian and…”
“Say no more,” he said, walking toward the offices where The Pack normally resided. Many of them were on administrative leave. The entire department had shunned Missing Persons since the terrible truth about the goings-on involving the once well-regarded Maxwell, and the recent surge in status of the rookie, Hoffman. Some called for the dissolution of The Pack, at worst, but many accepted the idea of them being split among other departments after they cleared their remaining cases.
He opened the door of his office to find Suzette sitting at his desk, staring Dorian down.
“You could have waited for me in the lobby, you know.”
“I know. I thought it’d be better to come back here.”
“Okay, well, you ready for lunch?”
“No. I only came all this way to hang out with Dorian,” she said, crossing her arms.
Jack rubbed his temples. “Please, Suze, lay off the attitude, let’s have a nice meal.”
Dorian spoke up, “Take the rest of the day off, Jack. Caseload is low, you’ve done more than your share, and I think you two are going to need some ‘you’ time.”
Jack narrowed his eyes and looked to Suzette, who grabbed him by the arm and led him out of the precinct.
“Thanks, Officer Franklin, I’ll make sure you get him in one piece.”
Dorian gruffed in response. He wasn’t sure what to make of the woman, in all honesty, but if her presence kept Jack in order, he wouldn’t try to do to alter things as they stood.
Jack took Suzette and smiled, looking her longingly in the eyes, her gaze meeting his and matching it, her smile widening. They walked arm in arm to his truck, where she gladly hopped into the passenger seat.
“Don’t forget my scooter is here, okay?”
“I won’t. What did you want to talk about?”
“Us,” she simply replied. “Where we go from here, now that Basseri is out of the picture.”
He started the truck and drove. He turned down the radio a bit, keeping attention out for an interesting place to eat.
“Anyplace in particular that strikes your fancy?”
She leaned against him, clutching her purse tightly. “How about someplace out of the way, not too busy where we won’t be bothered? I have a question for you.”
He paused and looked over her, feeling the warmth of her body against his as he drove. His emotions bubbled under the surface, nervousness, caution, fear, want. His primal urges were telling his body to shift into his hybrid form, but he kept his calm as he drove, pulling off onto the interstate and driving under the hot midday desert sun. A flick of his wrist turned on the air conditioner, bringing a chill into the cab of the truck, his eyes stalking around for someplace for lunch.
“Want to drive north to South Whispers and see what we can find there?” He mused, once finding the half empty highway, and reaching a comfortable cruising speed he slung his right arm over her shoulder and continued on.
“Nah, no need to go that far, rather keep it close, I’m going to have to deal with Phoenix later tonight anyway. I think you both know things have changed.”
Jack nodded and smiled to her as she perked up, seeing a diner off the next exit that looked like it had been transported from the mid-fifties.
“How about there?” she asked.
“Sure; looks charming.”
She ran her fingers over his hair, gripping the back of his scalp and rubbing there for a moment.
They pulled off the road and headed for the diner. It was a simple affair, but seemingly built from chrome and polished to a mirror shine. A sign on the door proclaimed fresh pies on sale. Jack entered and held the door open for Suzette.
“Thank you, Mr. Hoffman.” She paused, and looked around, before sitting at a booth, noting a “Please seat yourself” sign by the unoccupied hostess stand.
Jack followed and sat across from her, reaching across the table, holding her hands in his. “So, what do you want to ask me?”
“Let’s have lunch first, okay?” she responded. His face seemed to melt as he gazed into her eyes.
“Phoenix!” Linville called out, rubbing smelling salts under his bloody nose. He slowly stirred and held his head, the headache hitting him like a ton of bricks upon emerging from unconsciousness. Good Lord, it hurt. He sat up, weakened and looked to Linville who guided an EMT over to take his vitals.
“Wait, no no no…I’m okay, I’ll be okay.” He paused, coughing and bringing his fingers to his wet lips, drawing back crimson once more.
“Coughing up blood, no Phoenix, we’re getting you to a hospital.”
“No, don’t, I…everyone get out, okay? I got a trick up my sleeve. Joe, did you get the information?”
Linville nodded, “Haven’t had much of a chance to look it over, but what you got will help.”
“What did it say?”
“This whole thing was a setup on Bellacino and O’Halloran. Basseri had guys on the inside who fired the first shots.”
“Bellacino and O’Halloran…”
“Played like fiddles. I don’t even know if the D.A. will have enough to prosecute either of them.”
“I gotta go…”
“Phoenix, you stay right here, help is on the way. Hell, you’re damn near white as a ghost.”
“I’m Irish…”
“Doesn’t matter, kid,” Linville said, pinning McGee down by the shoulders.
“Joe, remember how I got fixed up after Basseri nearly killed me? I can do it again, but I need privacy, please.”
Linville looked to the EMT climbing in. He sighed and waved him back up.
“Fine, do it your way.”
Linville followed the EMT out as Phoenix lay in the darkness of the cylinder, the blood on the floor crusted over and his jacket clung to it. He inwardly cursed, knowing the dry cleaning bill was something he didn’t want to deal with. When Linville called out they’d exited the room, Phoenix concentrated on the Cloister, falling through the gateway opened beneath him.
Linville stared at the pillar of light emerging from the top of the cube, hearing a sound he could only describe as water being ripped like paper. He shuddered at the unnatural noise, even though it wasn’t the first time he heard it. It was the one thing he negatively associated with McGee, and when the squelching, loud whistle coincided with the fading of the light, he knew the detective was gone.
Phoenix lay on the brass floor of the Cloister, breathing in slowly as he felt the energies of the place begin to heal him. He noted it took a bit longer than usual. He tentatively got to his feet, taking a couple of steps before falling on his face again.
“Ow.”
Faint footsteps were beside him in a moment and he felt a rough hand on his own. He gazed up to see the smile of Gypsy, who tugged on him with a strength unexpected for her size. It wasn’t her power either; she was naturally strong. He rose, finding himself tumbling again before she hunched under him and guided him to a fainting couch that had not been there a moment ago.
“You really gotta teach me that.”
“You should already know it, but someone got saddled with Jeremiah and he’s an ass.”
“You look like you blame me.”
“Who says I’m not?” Sh
e chuckled and walked around him; in the time she was behind him, she produced a mug full of warm broth. She handed it to him and whistled.
“The hell did you get into this time, McGee?”
“I got a machine that didn’t listen.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, after pausing for a moment. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t listen’?”
“I mean, I went to control this room in a cube, and there was a counter-force. I’ve never encountered anything like that.” He grunted and coughed up a glob of congealed blood the size of a buttermilk biscuit.
“No such thing, McGee. Maybe you should hang around here more often, keep up with your attuning to the Cloister.” She curled her lips at the sight of the blood. “Someone attack you? You seem to be suffering from systemic organ failure.”
“Oh, is that why I feel all warm and squishy?”
“Yeah, who did this to you?”
“Not a who, a what. I’m telling you, there was a counter-force when I was trying to manipulate the systems of this machine. It fought back at me.”
She backed away. “Okay. I’ve never encountered anything like that. Who built this machine?”
“Dominic Basseri, based off plans from AGI, a megacorp I’m working with. He did some modifications to this thing, though. This is important; I need to find out what he did to be able resist a GearWitch. I was able to bitchslap a sentient program when I was still training. That was the closest I’ve ever come to this, and that was a lot easier to deal with. That machine knew what it was doing; it resisted, Gypsy.”
She nodded, looking worried. “Listen, you’re safe now, I’ll ask the others for their input and if anyone knows what this might be about.”
“This is important. Let me know as soon as you can, I don’t care when or how, but when you find it, reach out to me, okay?”
She nodded and ran a hand over his eyes, closing the lids. “Take a nap, you need to re-knit your everything. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”
As Phoenix drifted off to sleep, he groaned. A sentence played in his head from weeks ago, right when this case began.