Bridge_Bridge & Sword_Apocalypse

by JC Andrijeski

  “The machines are different here,” Surli muttered. Giving her a dark look, he added, “So the Bridge told you about that, did she? Did she tell you that’s how we met? That the Chinese government gave me a night with her as a reward?”

  Staring at him, Chandre felt her shoulders tense. After a bare pause, she raised the gun she held, pointing it at his face.

  “I wouldn’t be so flippant about that if I were you, brother,” she said coldly. “It might just get you shot around here… and not only by me. Not all of us are so forgiving of our intermediary having been used as a slave by those dogs you worked for. The only reason I haven’t shot you already is the old lady seems to think you might be of use.”

  Surli rolled his eyes, clicking at her. “You say that like it’s the worst thing that could happen to me out here,” he muttered darkly.

  Even so, Chandre’s words––or maybe her gun––seemed to do the trick.

  Surli’s light and eyes focused back on the open panel. Separating out the jelly-like tendrils hanging out of the broken casing, his lips moved silently as he counted them.

  The tendrils shimmered faintly in the deeper shadow under the building’s alcove, glowing with their own internal light. Chandre could feel the male seer’s light entwined with the presences there as he attempted to speak to them, to get past the security barriers encoded into their light to reach the mechanism of the door.

  They were lucky really, that their numbers were few.

  The military in front of the building wasn’t looking for threats from a handful of seers and one teenaged human.

  Dante, the sixteen-year-old hacker kid Chandre just taunted Surli about, looked up from a second console on the other side of the double doors. Meeting Chandre’s gaze, Dante flashed her a grin, her teeth shockingly white in the dark.

  Chandre returned the smile with a faint clicking and shake of her head, before motioning the human back to work.

  She knew Dante’s end constituted mainly dead circuits, but that those circuits connected to the organics Surli still struggled to penetrate with his aleimi. Whichever one of them managed to break through the security encryption first would likely be able to do the work of the other.

  Like most computer types, they were competitive.

  Whatever Surli’s gibes about Allie, he seemed particularly determined not to be bested by a “worm,” no matter how much of a genius she happened to be with the machines.

  Chandre couldn’t help finding that mildly funny.

  On the other hand, she didn’t feel particularly inclined to discourage that competition. They needed the doors open as quickly as possible.

  The three of them stood at the base of the tall office and apartment complex known as the Gossett Tower East. Chandre knew it had been––and perhaps still was––owned by some rich human, one of the tycoon types who made headlines in the feeds a few decades earlier.

  Chandre couldn’t recall the name of the particular worm who’d owned this set of buildings, but she supposed that didn’t matter anymore, all things considered.

  As the two comp-hacks worked, her worry began to leak out to the ends of her limbs, into the nerves under her skin, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was tired, strung out, jumping at shadows and had no idea what they were doing here, or what awaited them inside the seventy-five-story building.

  She only knew they had to get inside, and fast.

  Tarsi hadn’t exactly been specific when she’d pulled them into this thing.

  Balidor can handle Ditrini, Tarsi had sent to Chandre, breaking through their silent construct with that aggravatingly calm voice she had. Her patois leaked through her words, even in Chandre’s mind. I need you more here. Bridge need you, too.

  The Bridge? Chandre had asked, fighting to recover from her shock at hearing from the old woman in the first place, especially in the middle of an ongoing infiltration op where no one was supposed to know they’d even reached the city.

  Where’s Allie now? Chandre said. Isn’t she with the Sword?

  She’s with me, Tarsi said, as if that were obvious. Consider it an order from her, if that’s easier for you. The Bridge needs you. It’s a matter of utmost urgency, and not only to her. Pausing for the barest breath, Tarsi’s thoughts shifted into an open impatience. Not a lot of time, sister. Are you coming? Or just standing there?

  I’ll be there. Just give me––

  The old lady cut her off before Chandre could finish.

  To add insult to injury, she also booted Chandre unceremoniously out of her light, even though she’d accessed that light by Chandre’s own construct.

  Chandre had blinked up at the night sky outside the Barrier in bewilderment, only to found herself standing in the middle of a still-smoking airfield, surrounded by Varlan, Stanley, Damon, Rig and Yarli.

  The rest of them agreed to join her, which surprised Chandre, too.

  Her team had only just arrived at the island, on the tail of Ditrini, who’d managed to elude them for the past day and a half. When Tarsi showed up in Chandre’s mind, she and Varlan had been trying to determine how best to contact their allies at the hotel without tipping off Ditrini that they were close. They were already reasonably sure (or, to be more accurate, Varlan was reasonably sure) they’d been made by Ditrini’s people a few weeks earlier.

  Since then, they’d gone out of their way not to connect to the Lao Hu seer, or with Ute, the female Rebel who appeared to be his second-in-command. In a similar vein, they worried if they contacted Balidor directly, Ditrini would feel it.

  At that point, they were still hoping to fool the Lao Hu seer into believing he had the element of surprise.

  Unfortunately, they’d fallen behind, and in the process, Chandre strongly suspected she and Varlan had actually given Ditrini that element of surprise, by not contacting Balidor to warn him the Lao Hu seer was headed his way.

  From what Tarsi told her, that mistake had been corrected in the time since.

  The breach alarms were now engaged in the hotel; they were evacuating. That didn’t make Chandre feel any better about dumping that particular present on brother Balidor’s lap, and not only because of Balidor’s personal feelings about Ditrini himself.

  Shivering in her armored vest, Chandre glanced up at the sky as another gust of icy wind barreled through the spaces between buildings.

  She glanced at Varlan, who stood like a sentinel, poised halfway between the armored car and the door to the back of the building. Chandre’s eyes scanned down the next block, feeling more than seeing glimpses of Rig, Damon, Yarli and Stanley where they maintained a Barrier illusion to keep the SCARB forces that patrolled the front of the building from stumbling upon them in the alley.

  Despite that, and despite Varlan’s steady watch over Tarsi herself, Chandre felt her nerves worsening.

  “Hurry up, brother,” she urged Surli.

  “Patience, sister,” he grumbled, still separating out filament-like strands with gloved fingers. “Just give us a few more minutes, and––”

  “Got it!” Dante called out triumphantly from a few feet away.

  Surli’s head and eyes jerked sideways, even as the kid straightened.

  Stepping back from the heavy, organic-metal door, Dante keyed a final sequence into her hand-held, which she’d reconfigured as a combination flat screen and console that she held around chest-level between both hands. Chandre stepped back with her, still watching Dante’s face as she frowned up at the door.

  “Do you have it or not, cousin?” Chandre pressed.

  “I’ve got it,” Dante said, with the full confidence of youth.

  Luckily, that confidence turned out to be warranted.

  Chandre heard the locks disengage, even as Surli gaped up at the door, releasing the strands he’d been in the process of separating.

  “Endruk et dugra,” he muttered. “How the fuck did she do that?”

  Chandre clicked at him, even as she felt her shoulders relax.


  “She’s actually competent,” she said dryly.

  “Competent?” Dante said from the other side of the door. She raised an eyebrow at both of them, looking up from the screen for the first time. “I was going for miracle worker. Or hey, let’s give that girl a car!”

  Chandre clicked at her, shaking her head.

  Surli burst out in an involuntary laugh.

  Just then, Anale looked over at the three of them.

  “We’ve got company,” she said, her voice low through the link.

  Chandre looked over sharply, rearranging her grip on the handle of her gun. She glanced at Varlan, and saw that he’d already moved his rifle more tightly into his body. That rifle, a rare and heavily modified XM29, appeared to be aimed at a different segment of street than where Chandre saw him focused before.

  Clearly, Anale’s words had come as less of a surprise to him.

  Even as she thought it, Varlan’s voice rose in her headset.

  “I think he is friend,” the older seer said. “He has the mark of Adhipan.”

  “Don’t assume anything,” Chandre said at once.

  She felt a glimmer of Varlan’s humor.

  “I never assume, sister,” he said only.

  Chandre felt her jaw clench as she remembered who she was talking to. Varlan didn’t seem to much care, though. She watched him as he continued to aim the gun down the street, staring into the near-perfect darkness. Chandre glanced at Dante and Surli. Both stood in perfect stillness; even the human’s light appeared to be unmoving behind the Barrier.

  Someone must have trained her in that, too.

  Even so, Dante looked paler than she had a few seconds earlier. She didn’t look panicked, Chandre noted, or about to do anything stupid, but she looked afraid.

  She wondered again about this girl, and who had been training her.

  Regardless, she found herself grateful for her operations savvy––or at least for her self-control, which would have been unusual in a seer of her age, much less a human.

  Chandre motioned for Anale to get to the other side of the armored vehicle, to provide cover to the old woman and the Bridge’s body. She watched the female move silently through the dark, Damon joining her, both of their lights still as death.

  Chandre was about to pull in Stanley and Rig, when a familiar voice rose in her headset, utilizing a different channel.

  “Sister Chandre?” it said. “Is that you?”

  Confusion rippled her light, but only briefly.

  She quickly switched channels in her headset, but opened the line to the others, allowing her team to listen in. She pinged Varlan separately to run his own scan. Throwing another light line to Stanley and Yarli, she let them know to help Varlan take the newcomer down in the physical, if that ended up being necessary.

  She felt all three of them affirm without words.

  Barely two seconds had passed since the other seer hailed her.

  “Vikram?” Chandre said, using the same channel he had. She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here, brother? Why aren’t you at the hotel?”

  “Dante is with you? The human girl?”

  The emotion behind the question startled her.

  Chandre glanced at the girl in question, frowning. “Yes. What of it?”

  A flood of overwhelming relief reached her from the light of the male seer.

  “Gods,” he said, that relief reflected in his voice. “Thank the Ancestors! We thought Ditrini had her, and I didn’t think he’d do anything but kill her. And Tarsi? Is she with you, too?”

  “Her, too,” Chandre said, her voice still wary.

  That time, she glanced at Tarsi, but the old woman only shrugged.

  Chandre turned to Varlan next. The older seer motioned with a hand behind his back, on the side opposite from where Vikram walked. He hadn’t picked up on anything.

  If he didn’t find anything, Chandre rationalized, no one probably would.

  Even so, she found herself hesitating. She trusted Varlan a lot more than she had when this whole thing started, but she still tended to hesitate when she had only the ex-Rook’s word to go on––which happened a lot more often than she would have liked, given his obscenely high sight-ranking.

  Then again, they had someone with an even higher sight-rank with them now.

  At the thought, she turned to the old woman.

  Tarsi met her gaze directly that time.

  He’s clean, she sent.

  Chandre nodded, feeling her shoulders relax.

  She couldn’t see Varlan’s expression, but saw that he hadn’t lowered his weapon from where it pointed towards East 79th. She found herself glad for his caution, even as she wondered if there was more to it.

  She hated that she couldn’t read his light with any accuracy. She knew she likely wouldn’t have been able to read his face in direct sunlight, either, given his training, but it still frustrated her. In general, trying to read Varlan was like trying to read a wall of solid granite.

  “He is clean,” Varlan said, mirroring Tarsi’s words.

  “I carry only a sidearm, sister,” Vikram said, as if he’d heard both of them.

  Chandre could see his outline now. He was coming even with Stanley, who stood in the darkness of another recessed doorway built into the base of the Tower.

  Vikram was holding up his hands. The slightly-built, East Indian seer stepped carefully towards them, obviously aware he was being scanned.

  “Vik-man!” Dante said. She said it quietly, but Chandre shot her a warning look, anyway. Dante switched to her headset. “What are you doing here, you crazy icer?”

  Chandre felt Surli flinch next to her, reacting to the racial slur.

  Dante didn’t seem to notice. She started to walk towards Vikram, but Chandre held up an arm, speaking aloud that time.

  “Stay where you are,” she commanded. Switching to her headset, she pinged Stanley. “Frisk him, okay? And Varlan, make sure you’re right about his light.”

  Switching channels again, Chandre directed her next words at Vikram. “…No offense, brother. We’re not inclined to be trusting right now.”

  Vikram stood where he was, his hands still above his head, as Stanley approached.

  Chandre watched Stanley frisk the Indian seer. Stanley was thorough. He checked each of Vikram’s boots, feeling over the inside of the leather and his socks as well as instructing him to lift his feet to check the soles, feeling over the edges for hidden panels. Rising smoothly to his feet, he checked Vikram’s armored pants next, checking his inseam, then his belt, his vest, the lining of his coat. He took the gun off of Vikram’s holster, showing it to Chandre by holding it up sideways, then shoving it into his own vest.

  Chandre glanced at Varlan.

  The older seer nodded. He’d scanned Vikram’s light a second time. Probably a third, too, since he’d been trained in both the Adhipan and the Org.

  He’d found nothing.

  Chandre felt her shoulders relax.

  “Okay,” she said through the link. “We need to move.”

  “Now?” Rig asked.

  “Yes,” she said, deciding even as she spoke. “We’ll finish this indoors.”

  Looking at the car, she motioned to Damon and Anale with a few quick hand gestures.

  Varlan gave her a solemn nod, then walked to the car, where he opened the door next to where Tarsi sat. He bowed formally to Tarsi, extending a hand to help her out. Chandre glanced over to see Yarli approach from the east, standing guard as Damon and Anale walked towards the vehicle to help Varlan.

  Stanley and Vikram approached, too, but Stanley kept his hand on the smaller seer’s shoulder in an obviously cautioning gesture. He didn’t let Vikram get too close to the armored car, but steered him directly towards the now-open door at the back of the Tower.

  When Chandre looked back to the building, Surli held open the door, with Dante once more hunched over the flat console she held in both hands. Vikram stood only a yard or so from Dante, who ke
pt grinning at him, and trying to communicate with him via hand signals.

  Stanley motioned for both of them to cut it out, and Vikram did, but Dante ignored him, and kept gesturing with one hand to Vikram until Chandre clicked at her, making a sharp motion.

  “Stop,” she said.

  That time, Dante did, but she rolled her eyes at Chandre, blowing up her raggedly cut bangs to emphasize the point.

  Chandre ignored both, although inside, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

  Teenagers. Gods.

  Looking back towards the armored car, she watched as Anale and Rig picked up the Bridge’s body, pulling her carefully to the edge of the car. Varlan stood to one side, Tarsi’s fingers gripping the ex-Rook’s arm in an almost comically grandmotherly pose.

  Then Rig bent down, picking the Bridge’s body up by himself. He hoisted her easily against his chest, his arms under her shoulders and knees.

  Chandre found herself looking at the lifeless face of the Bridge once it faced the sky, her dark hair hanging down from behind Rig’s arm. Her skin looked pale as marble, her expression lifeless without those sharp green eyes. She could have been asleep, though, not dead. Only the complete absence of her living light distinguished her from that other, less-permanent state.

  Feeling her jaw tighten, Chandre forced her eyes off that smooth face, looking at the old woman, instead. She fought with an emotional reaction, trying to suppress it.

  Instead, she ended up aiming that emotion at Tarsi.

  “You want to tell me why we’re dragging the Bridge’s corpse around with us, old woman?” she said. “Or is that a secret, too?”

  She spoke aloud, across the several yards standing between them.

  Hearing her own words, Chandre winced.

  Even so, she knew any noise they made now likely wouldn’t matter anyway. If someone watched them enter the building, either from inside or outside, they wouldn’t need to rely on sound to find them. Thinking about this, Chandre frowned, again looking at the lightless body hanging limply from Rig’s arms.