Chapter 629: War In Heaven (2/2)
”We're pinned,” Steeltalon said, abandoning the streetspeak that fooled the scanning programs, despite the risk that they might get detected.
After all, the Tar Monster Grey ICE was crashing up the stairs to the second floor they were on.
Crashrider looked up, seeing that ceiling was missing.
”Up,” he said. He knelt down, ”Go. Now.”
One by one he and Steeltalon boosted the others up. Steeltalon grabbed Dime's hand and was pulled up. Plushie held out her hand to Crashrider.
”Hurry hurry muy muy bad!” she said.
Crashrider let his SMG hang from the strap as he jumped up, both hands reaching for Plushie's hand.
The Tar Monster crashed through the wall, arms outstretched, the single cyclopian eye burning red.
”RIDER!” Plushie yelled.
Crashrider grabbed Plushie's hand and the other runner gave a convulsive yank, snatching Crashrider out of the queue and up onto the next floor.
”Go, go, go,” Steeltalon yelled.
The group ran through the apartment, pulling open door and looking inside, searching for an exit as the Tar Golem slammed around in the kitchen below, roaring out its rage as it looked for the dataline that had cycled out of its reach.
Crashrider felt relief fill him as a door revealed stairs that led to the roof. He pounded up the stairs, his SMG bouncing on his hip.
The roof was quiet, silent, with a single skylight that was unbroken to the room below.
The antenna stood, blinking, in the middle of the roof, next to a table that held an empty coffee can on it.
Steeltalon and Plushie rushed to the antenna, Plushie pulling out her tools and opening the signal repeater box.
Crashrider moved over to the table and pulled out paintstick as everyone else set about the task that Miz Johnson had given them.
He wrote the name in Unified Galactic standard on the table as the Tar Monster ICE stumbled around the second floor, roaring in impotent rage.
Calshiina
”Donesa, muy muy,” Steeltalon said.
”Punch out,” Crashrider said.
He watched as the others flickered and vanished.
He put his fingers to his temple. ”All packages delivered, Miz Johnson. Punching out.”
He vanished.
Off in the distant a neon side glowed in the dimness.
MERCY HOSPITAL.
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Sam screamed in frustration and rage as Herod jumped through a window and vanished.
Again.
”COWARD! COME BACK!” Sam screamed as the window shattered. He spun and ran out the door, feeling the gateway shatter around him as he muscled through it.
He could feel Herod. Iota Layer. Cool Storage. Historical database. South-Eastern Hemisphere. TerraSol.
With a snarl he reached out and ripped open a line straight to Iota Layer.
In a signal propagation firmware section a recently placed update package flickered to life.
Sam stopped, blinking, as Herod's signal suddenly multiplied ten, a hundred, a thousand times.
He was all over the various layers of the shells. In databases, hiding in IO ports, in printer buffers, in scuzzy-buffers.
Herod's signal shined brightly, not the muted one he'd been using.
”IT DOESN'T MATTER, HARRY! I TOLD YOU I'D KILL YOU!” Sam screamed as he turned and swept toward the nearest signal.
In the room Sam had left, Herod climbed in another window, sighing and shutting it.
He was breathing heavy despite having no body.
The SUDS network was massive, built on ancient, archaic technology. In some places there was actual coaxial cable or low-speed fiber-optics rather than superconductor. Between the layers was microwave repeaters instead of spooky or strange particle or paired quark repeaters.
Herod slid down the wall, panting heavily. His pants were torn, his shirt ripped in two places, and he had gleaming bruises on his digital skin.
He touched his temple. ”I can't keep it up much longer,” he said.
”Roger,” Peel's voice came back.
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Dee suddenly looked up from where she had been slumped in the chair, head down, arms limp between her knees, breathing heavy and drooling blood.
”The kid snuffed one of my copies, Trucker took out the other, Menhit wiped the other me out,” Dee said. She wiped her nose and grimaced at the pink fluid on her sleeve.
”You gonna be all right?” Daxin asked.
Dee nodded, reaching down and picking up a plastic animal carrier. ”I'm fine, ya big thug.”
Daxin glanced at Legion, his mouth set in a grim line.
Legion just nodded back, staring with unreadable eyes.
”Let's get this show on the road,” Dee said, walking toward the door.
The contents of the carrier blinked wide innocent green eyes.
'mew'
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Night had fallen in Atlantis. The City of Souls gleamed with light even though the streets and buildings were newly empty. The lavish parks, museums, galleries, restaurants, and clubs were empty for the first time in thousands of years.
Up the slopes of Mount Meru a river flowed, pulled down by the gravity of Alpha Layer. It flowed from a pool inside the lavish palace at the very top. The tile around the pool and the mosaics on the wall had not been made locally but instead stolen from Terra itself and carefully rebuilt exactly as it had all appeared in the hidden ruin in the Olive Hills of Lost Alba Longa. It was a place of wealth, power, and unbridled ambition.
The water in the pool rippled and swirled.
A head lifted out of the water, close cut hair plastered to the skin. Runnels of water ran down the tanned weathered face as blue eyes scanned the room even as the mouth opened and let the oxygen extractor fall to hang from a cord around the neck.
More heads raised up, looking around.
Seeing it was clear, the male Terrans one by one moved up the underwater steps, revealing they were wearing green camouflage, equipment harnesses strapped to their chests, and heavy, bulky, obsolete looking rifles in their hands.
In complete silence they moved to the golden gate that made up the solitary exit from the pool. One opened it slowly, after checking it carefully for wires or traps.
The men moved out of the room.
The water went still again, reflecting the moonlight streaming through the glass imported from Terra itself.
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”What a strange sight,” the frog said as he sat down in the bushes.
”Indeed,” the fox said, joining his friend and companion.
The frog opened a satchel and handed the fox a carefully wrapped snack.
”What do you supposed it is?” the frog asked.
”I do not know. I have not seen the like nor have I ever heard of such a thing,” the fox replied.
They both gazed with curious wonder at the tableau before them.
A wide clearing was before them, with a glass mountain rising into the sky. Atop the glass mountain was a chair that slowly turned in a circle. Bound to the chair was a Terran man with five faces. Four of the faces were stern, their eyes emitting bright light, which searched the ground at the base of the mountain, the grass of the clearing, the trees of the forest beyond, the villages and towns beyond the forest, and even gazed with sharp intent at the valleys and ravines of the great mountains beyond.
The middle face was that of a young man, with rough features. The eyes were wide with horror and fear, the mouth opened in a scream of pain and agony.
The fox and the frog could see that the middle face struggled, attempting to wrest a body from the twelve armed, six legged, five faced head even as wings of onxy, bronze, and ivory beat the air.
”Should we help him? He is in pain,” the frog said sorrowfully.
”Can we climb a glass mountain?” the fox asked.
”With faith, and with each other, all is possible for us,” the frog said, patting his companions hand.
The fox nodded and stood up. He held out his hand to the frog, who smiled as he took his friend's hand to be helped to his feet, for being helped by a friend brought no shame to either.
Holding hands, the fox and the frog moved across the clearing toward the base of the glass mountain.
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Vuxten stood in the middle of the room, panting. His heat was back up, his slush was to the point he was risking scorching the nanoforge. He hurt all over and could taste blood.
Beyond the pockmarks and scraped in the ferrocrete, there was no evidence of the desperate struggle that had just ended.
--hate shades-- 471 one said.
”Uh-huh,” Vuxten said.
”Tod,” the woman's voice made Vuxten look to the side.
The Detainee was standing in the room, her dress smooth and unwrinkled.
Her head intact.
”Let's go. You're falling back,” she said.
Vuxten just nodded.
--everyone immortal but us-- 471 complained.
”I think I'm ready to go home,” Vuxten replied.
471 sent back a nodding emoji that had a bandaid on its cheek.
But he still followed the Detainee as she led him back to the mat-trans. She took a looping, wandering path that Vuxten was just glad seemed to avoid anyone that wanted to rip his guts out.
His armor still read green across the plating integrity but he could still feel the raking talons of the phasic shades in his muscles. A glance showed him that his core temperature was back up, slowly climbing even though the inside of his armor felt like an oven.
The room where the mat-trans was looked just like all the others, but Vuxten noticed the armaglass that made up the octogonal room inside a room was a different color than he'd seen before.
The Detainee opened the heavy door and waved Vuxten in.
--hate hate hate this part--
”Me too, buddy,” Vuxten said, his boots clomping as he moved inside the mat-trans.
”Sit down,” the Detainee instructed. ”You'll be joining Team Three, so sit down so you don't fall down.”
”With pleasure,” Vuxten said. He leaned against the armaglass and slid down till he was sitting down.
”See you on the other side, Tod,” the Detainee smiled.
The door closed and darkness pulled Vuxten down with sharp talons of nightmares.