Machine, page 20
part #1 of The Peradran Legacy Series
Brand approached the duo. He interrupted without tact. “Alan values you guys too much. All she is going to do is data retrieval and observation. She won't get hurt, its my ass if she does.” He actually believed he was in control. “If I remember right, it was me who called you.” They stopped arguing, that's all he wanted anyway.
* * * *
They timed the departure for a synchronous arrival at one am. At which time all of the remote monitors went snow.
Brand and Ned stood roughly ten feet apart. A large insulated cable hung coiled over Ned's armored right shoulder.
They watched the Veil distort, Ned already knew that it was happening too slow. Within the distortion a familiar pattern formed; a liquid reflection of the Rho-Field's copper glow. Their headsets remained silent.
The Veil began to elongate, not low near the ground but a full six feet above. Then a dense burst of white light cast long black shadows behind the Suited receptionists. The brilliant emanation moved away from the Void Field. Moving, writhing within the center was a dark form. The light was sound and both were tangible – physical.
Ned realized what was causing the intense emanation; an unstable Rho-field. The field inhibitors must have been transformed; organic matter could not contain the wavelength. All she had to do was short it out.
She opened local communications, “Brandon! Hold this!” She flung the cable in his direction, it landed directly in front of him. “Pick it up!” She yelled, gesturing widely. She could barely see him pick up the cable in the glare.
Then she began to plod toward the writhing form. As she drew closer she could only see the center of the figure, shrouded in pale shadow. The light began to affect her equilibrium, she stopped and heaved the rest of the coil.
:::Thank You::: The voice effected her like a hallucinogen.
Her vision smeared as it followed the cable's arc toward its mark. She began to scream. Her dementia intensified as the pitch increased. Brandon held the cable, deafened and completely unaware of the voice. She had intended to ground the unstable Static-field on Brand. It would have killed him instantly but something happened. The light was gone without event and the cable seemed attached to the dark form.
The lightless sky provided a matte curtain upon which lay the Void field. The semicircle had become an arch, the rippling energy molded itself into a Gothic peak twenty feet high. The dark form seemed hunched over, deformed, made small by the impressive Void field. Ned had stopped screaming.
The cable slithered on the sand, dragging through a trough formed by its weight. Its end leapt from Brandon's hand. The unshielded coil fused into a narrow spike the color of the dark form.
:::Tell Jerring, Idol is ready for Mission Four::: The voice spoke only to Ned.
She could not watch as she realised that Brandon was being stitched through, until the cable fell free of the tangled bloody mass of metal and gore.
:::His Suit was not exposed to the Void. That was unwise::: Her gaze was locked on the dark form as it seemed to expand like a balloon.
She began to scream again, one long dirge of dread escaped her lungs and its wings had completely unfolded. An impossible play of light turned its colorless membranes yellow over midnight blue. Its head seemed small in proportion to its winged anatomy. Pale irises hovered on a face which had no mouth.
:::You will refer to me as Idol::: The cable disappeared into the black skin without touching the ground again.
:::Lets go, Ned::: His sarcasm slapped her tender limbic. Her Suit began to magnify her nervous tremors. At first the movements seemed almost natural, like a strong gale was blowing over the armored form. The movements became gestures, meaningless in their dramatic appearance.
What she really wanted to do was run, to turn around and run. When she did, Idol followed. His stride brought him along side her quickly. The maximum speed of her Suit was only an awkward trot, which required a lot of effort on the behalf of the Pilot. It gave her the feeling of control amid her anomalous hysterical panic attack.
She began to yell, hoping her last words would be heard. “Void Runner gone... Idol… Cartena is out of control... Brandon is dead... transformation...” Then she realized Idol was upon her, he looked down at her seven foot tall, armored form. His wings were extended back as he walked.
:::Yes, they work::: Again the hallucinogenic effect gripped her. Idol moved, a simple reflection of his shadow fell on her visor. A wave rushed over her and she began babbling irrationally.
“Ca-ael...psst...p-plee-e...ga-aa-t-t...caa-ca…nn-mmm...” She stared, unconscious eyes vibrating left to right, unseeing. The Suit went limp.
* * * *
When the remotes came back on line, cyber-mercenaries and all, saw an empty runway. No one noticed the difference in the Void field's appearance at first.
Bob switched to vid-phone, Alan regarded her with an expression unfamiliar to his face. “What is happening Bob?” Before she could answer, Ned's desperate broadcast came on line.
They listened in horror until her comm went off. Her helmet camera pointed to the moonless sky. It was six minutes after one.
* * * *
:::Your choice of hour is, convenient::: Alan's lungs emptied, inaudibly. His mouth hung open, drool fell from his lip. The vid-phone was off, the remote was linked to Ned's helmet-cam.
:::Curious, only the survivors react so::: Alan's delusion saw only the black skin, how it refused the light then bathed in it at the same time.
“Aaaaaagaaaaah.” Alan gawked. He held up his twitching hand, fingers limp and rubbery. The useless appendage clunked to the desk, still twitching.
The vid-phone blinked on, a new face appeared. It was a middle aged man that resembled Alan.
“Alan, did you see this?” With no notice of Alan's condition the monitor switched to the altered Void field then back to the vid-phone. Alan saw only Idol.
“We need the access...” He stopped. The vid-phone went blank.
:::I am Idol, I am ready for Mission Four::: His derision rolled over the limp countenance. Dilated and watering eyes blinked once, memory cells liquified.
Inside the Assembly Lab, the remaining six techs exercised their true colors. CD-roms flashed, control programs initialized. Bob was rambling and cursing profusely as she emptied the contents of the Support Suit security array.
“You stupid bitch! Fucking 'danger rush'. We could use the cash. Cash! Stupid money, just blow it all anyway.” The empty array accepted her own 'Four-D' replacement. She waited as the mainframe made its task sweep. “Come to momma baby – walk for me.” Various peripheral programs shut themselves down before crashing. That included any security shells the crew might have installed. She put Ned's helmet cam on a fixed remote within her Four-D.
“Bob, something is wrong.” Alan's look alike was not very good at dealing with such stressful burdens. He bared his teeth and hissed while he breathed.
“Shut up Jerry.” That was the nickname they gave him, they were all using assumed names anyway. They had forgotten his chosen alias. Then to herself but loud enough for him to hear, “Dork.”
Jerry's face turned red, he pulled at his hair. Bob continued hacking the Suit’s independent motion parameters, using the Four-D to 'see' what the Suit was doing. The helmet cam showed sky, she might have got knocked down. If not, the Four-D would tell her.
The ray traced image of the Suit appeared atop an (x,y) axis depicting the four compass points.
“Yes!” She squealed. “She's up! ok, lets look around.” The new Suit design incorporated a wide range of tasks it could perform on its own. A slow three-sixty revealed empty desert. She then pointed the Suit toward the complex, only the elevator lights could be seen at that distance. As the Suit followed Bob's commands other techs confirmed their successful attempts to salvage their efforts.
Then the vid-phone came on once more. It was one-twenty-five.
“Listen up!” Only a couple of the cyber-mercs recognized the voice as Theo; Bob and a guy called Max.
Max was closer, he stepped up to the monitor. “Yes sir?” He regarded the thick white hair, cropped short, the tight skin and pale complexion, the determination in those eyes.
“Max, good. You're in charge now. I want someone in a Suit and cleaning up Mr. Amblunt ASAP. I want everyone else in the Portal chamber now, setting up. You know the routine?” His thin lips barely moved as he spoke.
Hesitantly Max complied. “Yes sir.” He thought for a moment and said, “Maybe you should check on Mr. Jerring...”
Theo cut him off. “Everything is under control...he's fine now. Any objections?”
Max looked around the lab. “No sir.”
“I'll be monitoring you from here.” His countenance was adamant as he switched off the vid-phone. He regarded Idol through the remote in Alan's office. Apparently Idol's oppressive influence was limited to his immediate presence. He found it surprisingly easy to witness its effect on Alan, who twitched and drooled on himself mindlessly, gesturing clumsily, eyes fixed on Idol's impossible anatomy – his wings pushing the ceiling tiles askew. He judiciously avoided causing any to fall while idly balancing himself to fit the restrictive dimensions of the executive office. He was poised like a massive obsidian gargoyle, his wrists rested on his knees. His wings were held unfolded at his sides as two sails loose in the winds of darkness.
Idol was, until that time ignorant of Theodore's position as the first in command of PPT and his unwitting journey into the Void as the subject of its impending influence. He knew that the Void Runner should not have been effected and the circumstance of his transformation was foremost on his mind, next to his intended use of the wayward Portal.
:::I'm not what you expected. No. I'm much more. I have become Idol. You will be spared as Jerring was in exchange for your cooperation. The Portal must be open before the second hour of this day. My original obligation as we agreed is now invalid. If the other Pilot is ready in time, he may accompany me but I will act independently and will not be returning to this dimension::: His voice was heard only by Theo. Its effect on him challenged his concentration, such was the nature of Idol's unique form of communication.
“Your ultimatum is generous.” His own voice seemed weak, insignificant. “I have the crew on full-push to have the Portal ready as soon as possible. They are unaware of your existence, only the one named Ned, Jerring and I have seen you.”
:::There is no need to attend to such matters::: His voice forced Theo to repeat the words to himself before responding.
“This video is not being recorded.” Idol cut him off.
:::It would be impossible regardless. My very essence is that of the Void. I have absorbed every component of your Void Runner, every component of the Suit. Their machinations are one with me::: He paused, knowing Theo was having difficulty sorting the impressions of his voice. :::Your machines are not capable of recognizing my image without my immediate supplication:::
Theo was ignorant of Idol's motives. He could only assume Joseph Cartena has become much more than a creation of the Void. More like a personification of its anti-reality.
Idol followed Theo's thoughts like they were his own. :::You're quite correct. I can, at will, enter the Void from any dimension at any time. Though I am limited in my capacity to choose a living dimension to return to::: Again he paused, Theo's eyes began to loose focus in the monitor image. :::I can only exit the Void back to this dimension, this Earth. With or without an active Void field::: Idol seemed to have an uncanny comprehension of his new state of being. There was much more to his reality than being transformed by the Void, like something that awakened from beyond the mere boundaries of dimensional space. Beyond the confines of reality’s intention.
“Will you return again, to use my Portal?” He failed impotently to conceal his own apprehension toward such an event.
Idol did not answer. Instead he seemed for a moment impatient. :::Have the Portal ready and see to it that no one is present in the Portal chamber - how I loath the pathetic impotence of Human weakness::: The monitor went snow. He had less than twenty minutes to meet Idol's deadline.
Moments later Alan's remote came on line in Theo's private office. Alan looked a bit frayed but none the worse for the experience. “Theo, you saw the distortion in the Void field? We lost everything and Brandon is dead. Ned is delirious, apparently the whole experiment failed.” He waited for Theo to comply. He merely nodded, wondering if Alan noticed how much of his own saliva was on his shirt. “The Portal is almost ready. Max explained rather simply that you wanted it active. Our control Pilot is not available for any kind of test until five at the earliest.” He paused to read from his covert report file. “I assume the level five security protocol is not a drill, in light of our recent situation.” Theo managed to realize that Alan had failed to accept his encounter with Idol as reality. Nothing really happened that would allow a 'sensitive' Human mind to cling to in his position. Ned, on the other hand witnessed a great deal of Idol before totally loosing it. Only he himself had managed to come out of it without a psychological scar.
“To put it simply Alan, this is out of your hands. Go home, get some rest. Just wait for the level five to clear before leaving. Also, I am going to lock out the entire camera network until I get things ironed out. I put Max in charge, even though I think Bob would do a better job. Let her know that she did a great job and make damn sure the Portal chamber is open and empty before two. The level five applies directly to why I'm having it activated.” He didn't raise his voice even slightly. He spoke with conviction and resolution. He didn't want Alan to get edgy, he was probably stressing quite heavily and feeling responsible for the failed experiment. He pulled out a couple of assurances just to ease his mind, he wanted Alan level headed for the now delayed Mission Four. “One more thing. Before you leave and the level five is cleared, inform our cyber-mercs that Mission Four is postponed until further notice. And like I said, tonight is no longer your burden, ok?” Even though Alan rarely changed his expression, his face seemed to loosen from the mask of tension to his typical emotionless, thin-lipped semblance.
“Its been a long night I'll talk to you later” Alan tapped the monitor key and the screen switched to terminal mode.
Theo waited and surfed through the various security up links as each was switched to restricted viewing. He brought up a divided screen of the only corridors that lead to the Portal chamber. One by one they went snow before any image of Idol could be viewed. They progressed rapidly clearing once more as he passed out of range. He hoped Idol would allow him to observe his departure. Knowing his thoughts were not hidden from the dimensional being's awareness he suppressed his attention toward another consequential response. The sensation of Idol's projected voice left one imminently more anxious than believed possible without a tangible source.
The last monitor recovered from Idol's influence. He was inside the Portal chamber. The monitors therein were all off-line save for one, located behind the Portal. Idol's black form seemed to refuse the light radiating from the Portal's edge. It was five 'till when he hesitated and regarded the remote camera directly.
:::When I return, you will be the first to know::: The effect of the projected statement seemed intentional; a precursor of malign purpose. He then passed through the fragile veil leading to a living dimension of an unknown nature. The energy field hovered ominously in the empty chamber. He flagged the stand down for the level five protocol.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DARK SALVATION
I stood with Cohiri, regarding her sword. I held it with one hand. I focused my Arcane sense on the Dancing Blade and the spirit-occupant of its enchantment. The effort required to use my ability was small, Arcane forces surrounded my awareness. Cohiri carefully watched my responses for any signs of transposition within the Arcane influence. Such was common to my experiences in Peradra. I let the Arcane tide carry me without resistance. I remained aware of Cohiri and the summoning chamber around us, the Suit and her own presence. Within the enchantment I could sense the subtleties of its nature. The blades own magic was centered on its material aspects; weight, appearance and the hardness of the steel. Separate and almost withdrawn was the essence of the spirit. Its magic was that which gave the entire sword a Steel Wizard's purpose; the desire to taste blood in combat and the ability to Dance on its own, directed preferably, by Cohiri's command. The spirit was the object of my scrutiny, I focused harder. I could not discern any single feature of the spirits alignment. Its apparent disposition toward being the occupant of a sword was ostensible as it did have a name for itself. I could not articulate the phonetic version but my Arcane sense held it aptly. The so identified entity revealed itself to me intimately; it desired not only the taste of blood and battle but something more. Its volition was to have a choice, the choice of who should live or die during the coveted thrill of battles to come. A feasible matter if not leaving such a choice to its wielder would not compromise what she stood for, or whom. I withdrew my inspection and explained to Cohiri.
“Your blade it would seem desires what it should - the clash of battle and - blood.” She listened intently, determined to accept her destiny competently. I continued, “More over it wants to choose who should live or die, beside your preference. I'm afraid that, so much so, you still need Morbannon's help. The essence of the spirit is firmly defined and quite resilient. If it were that it could not Dance there would be much less for concern. That you do not rely, for now, on that power would leave you time to accomplish mastering the blade's conventional mode of usage. My opinion is the spirit is too independent, it was summoned during uncertain circumstances at best. Though my Arcane sense is dependable my Arcane knowledge is limited. All I've really got to go on is what you've told me yourself and what Morbannon to you.” Her eyes were fixed on mine, trusting. I handed her the sword ceremoniously; handle first, blade on the back of my opposite hand.
