Infestation Cubed, page 15
To take out an opponent stealthily, they would need to rely on knives and the strength of their hands.
Kane stopped as he came beneath a porthole. Two people were talking, and the language sounded familiar. It took a moment, but the translator keyed to his Commtact kicked in. The original language was an odd stereo sonic shadow to the conversation relayed through the speakers imbedded in his jawbone. They were speaking in Japanese, he realized.
Grant stiffened as the translation was picked up on his Commtact.
“So when is Orochi getting back from the TOTO base?” one of the guards asked. “I’m sick of babysitting these geeks. We’ve got important stuff to do back home.”
“You want to slap an octoslug on the neck of a giant, heavily armored beast? We’re trying to make sure they’re under control,” the other said. “Or do you want more of your family eaten?”
Kane looked at Grant. Rosalia, not wearing a Comm tact, was out of the loop, and annoyance colored her features, until Grant took her communicator, switched it to the right frequency and slipped a bud into her ear.
“The program doesn’t smell right to me,” the first said, now heard and understandable to all three of the hidden adventurers on the deck. “I understand sticking the slugs atop an alligator—they’re the closest to the cavern beasts that we can find in this godforsaken swamp, but what does Orochi want with the mind-controlled humans?”
“We’re part human,” the other said. “Just because we’re scale covered—”
That remark made Kane and Grant look closely at each other. Grant gently pushed Rosalia aside and moved closer to Kane and the window of the deckhouse that sheltered the two men who were speaking. He fished a small pocket mirror from his vest, holding it up shaded so that he could see them, but they wouldn’t notice a flash of light reflecting off the tiny bit of polished metal. What Kane and Grant saw was nothing new, not in a world of Lord Strongbow’s dragoons, the Nephilim, the Nagah and the An nunaki themselves. These two men were covered in a fine sheen of small, reptilian scales that were smooth and finely interlinked. They were still mammalian, however, as they each bore scruffs of hair, or at least hairlike offshoots on their skulls and faces. The effect was similar to ancient Chinese and Japanese dragons they had both seen many times around the world, especially in artwork made on New Edo.
With the addition of hair and normal human mannerisms, these two were more akin to the genetically enhanced soldiers under Lord Strongbow and Quayle’s people, rather than full cross-species conversions such as the Nagah or true alien beings like the Nephilim or their forebears, the newly encountered Igigi.
“Not to hear men like Tatehiko say it. We’re Watatsumi,” the first interrupted, Kane and Grant’s observations having only taken the breadth of a second. “We are the children of the dragons, the folk of ancient times.”
“Tatehiko is making us feel good about ourselves. He’s giving us our warrior spirit,” the second said. “We have to find some way to make ourselves feel stronger. Plus, Orochi isn’t going to have too easy a time if we’re putting those things on top of people who are just like us, only different because of their skin.”
“Either way, I’m glad that we don’t actually have to touch those things,” the first explained. “Let those idiots in the TOTO redoubt handle them.”
“Orochi didn’t say, but he’s always stressed when he comes back from there. Like he’s barely keeping the whitecoats or the octoslugs in line,” the second said. “Whatever keeps eating at him, he’s determined not to have any contact between the rest of us and the TOTO base. Ever wonder why we’re sitting on a rusted hulk rather than inside the AUTEC base itself?”
The first chuckled. “Right. Nothing ever goes wrong when you’re playing with mind-control slugs that have been buried for hundreds of years beneath six thousand feet of water.”
The two soldiers laughed nervously, as if they had been tempting fate.
Kane and Grant shared a glance. If the sentries on hand had doubts about the use of humans in testing the octoslugs, or even the use of said creatures at all, then there was obviously something being kept from the lower-level troops. They motioned for Rosalia to join them as they stalked away from the pair, out of earshot.
“How do you want to handle this?” Grant asked.
“We play it gently,” Kane said. “They aren’t too keen on experimenting on other people. They’re showing doubts, and this Orochi has stuck them in this situation.”
“I wonder if they have fangs like the Nagah,” Grant added. “But their mouths didn’t look as if they extend like that.”
“That’s the second time you mentioned them. Who are they?” Rosalia asked.
“They’re reptilian humans living in seclusion in northern India,” Kane replied. “They don’t want anything to do with the outside world after our encounter with them a while back.”
“You alienated an entire subrace?” Rosalia asked. “Not surprising, Magistrate Man.”
“Wasn’t Kane’s fault. It was Ullikummis’s father,” Grant said. “Enlil wanted them to follow him and renounce their initial creator, Enki.”
Rosalia looked back toward the sitting guards, their heads silhouetted through the window. “So we’re making up for that foul-up?”
“We’re avoiding unnecessary killing,” Kane said sharply. “Come on.”
Kane and Grant maneuvered into position as one, and lunged at the two sentries at the same moment.
Kane’s assault was a burst of speed, his fist a lightning blur as it jammed into his target’s sternum. The blow knocked warm, fetid breath from the guard’s lungs, and he doubled over instantly. The punch was a stunner, a maneuver that Kane had used over the years to end a dozen fights before they had even started. As the reptilian was bent double, Kane followed up with a swift knife-edged chop that struck the man just behind the ear, where a trunk of nerves and blood vessels fed directly to the brain. Knocked unconscious, the sentry collapsed into a puddle of limp limbs.
Grant’s attack was slower, but no less irresistible as he punched the other guard in the shoulder. The blow whirled the hapless guard around like a top, slamming him face-first against the wall. Grant seized the opportunity to lunge in and slide his massive, powerful arms around the Watatsumi’s head in a sleeper hold. With a knotted fist jammed under one ear and a thrust of powerful pressure against his neck and head, the guard started to thrash wildly. Windpipe and artery squeezed tightly, unconsciousness was only a few moments away. After a few seconds Grant’s target went limp, and he released him, not wanting to continue to harm the poor man. The Watatsumi would awaken with a hell of a headache due to the sudden rush of blood fed into his brain, but he, like his companion, would wake without crippling injury and little more discomfort than a mild hangover.
Rosalia looked on, impressed with Kane’s and Grant’s speed and efficiency. “So leaving them alive will get us in good with the locals, even if we’re on their boat uninvited?”
“We’re going to ask for permission to come and stay aboard,” answered Grant as he easily shrugged his unconscious target into a seated position. A quick frisk revealed the reptilian man’s radio communicator, as well as a SIG-Sauer P-225 pistol. On closer examination, Grant was able to determine that these beings not only shared a language, but a general physical build with the Japanese expatriates of New Edo. He was only five feet, eight inches tall and a little over 140 pounds, practically a rag doll in Grant’s hands. A closer examination also noted epicanthic folds on the inner corners of their brown eyes.
He turned and looked at Kane, who was completing his own examination.
“They are Japanese, and speak the same language, but they have scaled skin,” Kane noted. “Baptiste would have a field day working out the origins of these guys.”
“There’s precedent for these types showing up in Japanese mythology.” Grant spoke up. “There are the Kappa and then there are an underwater race of beings supposedly descended from dragons who live in a realm where they control the tides via the use of mystical gems. In fact, the name these guys gave to themselves, Watatsumi, is translated into English as sea god. They live in an undersea palace called Ryugu-jo.”
“You’re really stepping up in this department,” Kane muttered. “Think that the Dragon King descendants might have been influenced by contact with India and China’s Nagah myths?”
“Not just influenced by the myths, but maybe even a wandering tribe,” Grant countered.
“But since these don’t look like cobras, they’ve diluted their blood?” Rosalia asked.
“Possible,” Kane said. “They’re warm to the touch, and the scales and hair seem to be made of the same material on their skin.”
Grant caught Kane’s expression darken. “What’s up?”
“When we first found Enlil’s old Annunaki body in storage, he was referred to as one of the Dragon Kings,” Kane said. “Wondering how much influence the overlords might have over them.”
“Given that Enlil preferred semimindless drones like the Nephilim, not independent followers like the Igigi, he might have broken off. He only went after the Nagah out of desperation to compete with his brothers and sister, all of us at Cerberus and with the Millennial Consortium and our dragon lady.”
“Do you have an enemy who isn’t a dragon?” Rosalia quizzed.
“This one is all woman,” Kane answered. He wished it hadn’t come, but a quick recollection of Erica van Sloan, and the last time he had met her. She had been forward enough to enter the shower with him, an attempt at seduction that he had resisted, but not for any physical revulsion he’d felt for the eyepatch-wearing femme fatale. Too much history had gone by between the two, too many evils wrought by the scientific witch for Kane to ever entertain the concept of a sexual dalliance with her.
“I’d like to meet her sometime,” Rosalia responded.
Kane sneered. “Stick with us, you’ll learn to regret making statements like that.”
“Back to the scalies here, are they friendly to humans?” Rosalia asked.
“You heard the translation,” Grant said. “I made sure of it. They were uneasy about their scientists experimenting on humans.”
“But they’re still following orders,” Rosalia noted.
“We’d better make a decision soon. No telling when these two are supposed to report in,” Kane interrupted the debate.
“Right,” Grant said. He picked up the walkie-talkie.
“So I don’t have a say?” Rosalia asked before he could transmit.
“You’ve had it, sister,” Grant returned. His face was grim. “And don’t forget, we’re not expecting rainbows and sunshine from the crew just because we’re talking to them politely. We’re still armed, and we’re still going to open up a Sandcat full of pain on these Watatsumi if they get violent.”
“All right, just so you’re not blinding yourselves,” Rosalia said. “Magistrate Man seems a little bit softer than I expected for the barons’ old stormtroopers.”
“Don’t mistake a conscience for weakness, Rosalia,” Kane grumbled. He made certain that the Watatsumi he’d knocked out was sitting comfortably and secure from falling. “Grant, let’s get this going.”
Grant nodded to his friend, then raised the walkie-talkie, speaking in Japanese. “To the commander of the Watatsumi expedition vessel. My name is Grant of Cerberus. We are aboard your ship, but we come in peace and only wish to talk, not instigate violence. We do not want conflict, even though by the nature of the lands we’ve traveled through, we are prepared to fend off violence.”
There was a moment’s pause on the other end of the line as Kane and Rosalia listened in, thanks to their respective communicators and the translators hooked up to them. Kane could imagine the people on the other side recovering their composure as quickly as they could.
The answer arrived. “My name is Kondo, the second in command of the Watatsumi. How did you come upon our vessel?”
“We had heard rumors of the existence of snake-skinned humanoids in this region,” Grant answered. “When we arrived and spoke with locals, we learned of a new vessel parked in the AUTEC lagoon, around the same time disappearances began.”
It was as diplomatic as Grant could make it. “We came here to converse, not battle.”
“We understand that,” Kondo answered. “Where are you now?”
“Aft deckhouse. You will find your sentries are unharmed,” Grant said. “There are only three of us, myself, another man and a woman. We are heavily armed, but we needed to be to survive our trek through the wiregrass swamp.”
“Acknowledged,” Kondo returned. “I will come on deck with two men by my side, and there will be others in overwatch positions.”
“We expect no less, but we have not shown your men harm,” Grant told him. “We will be waiting.”
“It wouldn’t be that much harder to just kill everyone on this boat from surprise,” Rosalia said, obviously out of sorts at having to meet the owners of the ship on their own terms.
“It’s not about being easy. It’s about being right,” Kane cut her off. “If we talk, we spill less blood. And if we spill less blood, then that’s right in my book.”
Chapter 15
The creature that the Entity latched on to was named Akeno. Once the octoslug’s tentacles tightened around the man’s head, hundreds of suckers sinking millions of microscopic, hairlike barbs into skin and digging for nerve tissue, he belonged to an all-consuming intellect of a being who was ancient even as the Annunaki were first born. The union of Akeno to the Entity would have been simple even had the feeble-minded creature been wide awake, but the technician had been dozing when he should have been working, his head nodding in a corner of his lab as he waited for samples sliced from one of the octoslug cells percolated in a mass spectrometer.
Despite Akeno’s mastery of biochemistry, the Entity had stolen into his mind and swallowed his existence whole. Now everything the man had ever felt, heard, seen and smelled was available to the network of individual consciousnesses that the Entity was building. It now understood the language spoken by these creatures, the Watatsumi, who hailed from a suboceanic and subterranean nation state known as Ryugu-jo.
It saw the realm in which the skies were made of stone, but illumination was provided by fungi and lichens with bioluminescent properties. The people lived in something slightly brighter than perennial twilight, and as such, their eyes were sharply tuned. Akeno’s skin was a gift from one who appeared to be Enlil’s kinfolk. According to legend, they were gifted with power and strength by Ryugin, the dragon king of the watery deeps. Through his daughter, Otohime, he built the strangely jeweled cities of Ryugu-jo, something that the Entity recognized as an outgrowth of naturally occurring subterranean crystal structures that proved incredibly durable and capable of producing warmth for the dwellers in the darkness.
Akeno was studying the cephalapodlike creatures to which Enlil had banished the Entity’s consciousness. The Entity thought for a moment, realizing that now that it once more was among sentient beings, it had to take a name. As it still sought discretion, it simply chose a word from Akeno’s consciousness— Kakusa, literally “the Hidden.” Akeno and the alligators would become the first of its new horde, the Oni, and naught would stop Kakusa from its escape.
Enlil had not been heard of in Ryugu-jo, though the great Dragon Kings were familiar-looking thanks to the ancient mythology of the Watatsumi. There would be no doubt that the Annunaki still existed, and once Kakusa was free, it had to be careful. Enlil had once denied Kakusa the capacity to travel between minds and thread them together into a neural web of telepathic unity. Indeed, Kakusa wasn’t certain that it was the last remnant of its kind, or if the entirety of its old self had been completely wiped out. Kakusa remembered the horrific flash and agony as an entire solar system disappeared into an entropic vortex that snuffed out the energy of countless beings, from the smallest virus to the most psychically advanced beings it had conquered. The entropic wave left Kakusa stunned, and its makeup had been rendered relatively inert, trapped in the semiliving protoplasmic mollusks that had earned the nickname octoslugs.
The kind of firepower that Enlil had unleashed was impressive, but Kakusa knew that only its blatant existence and laziness had made it such an easy target. Had it been younger, still hungry and seeking domination of a world, it would have been stealthier, sharper. Success had been Kakusa’s downfall, and once more reduced to being hunted, hounded and feared, it was glad once more.
The boredom of total dominion had numbed it to the resourcefulness of lesser beings.
Akeno was summoned back to work, and the octoslug attached to him had not yet been noticed. Kakusa directed its gelatinous minion to slither down between its host’s shoulder blades, securing itself to where it was still in direct contact with the Watatsumi’s medulla oblongata, overriding every ounce of free will remaining in Akeno. Already the supercell was in the process of mitosis, using an influx of energy and nutrition from its new host to grow a second cell. Within a few division cycles, the numbers of Kakusa’s entities would grow exponentially. One becomes two. Two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Within only six cycles, it would have expanded more than enough to have conquered every living thing within the TOTO base and the freighter back in the AUTEC base, but Kakusa knew that there were hundreds of its components held inert via electrical stasis.
Akeno could get access and release them. There were dozens more in the wiregrass swamp near AUTEC. If there were a means of severing the controls on the freighter…
