The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

When he's done, Amharr withdraws his hands. Gra'Ylgam sags
down to his knees, struggling to breathe, aided by the rapidly growing
autotrophs on his regenerating skin. Amharr waits for him to regain his
strength, then walks around him and heads back to the vessel's crux.

"Come, old friend," he says calmly. "Let us
see about those humans."

-

Bray fidgets in his chair, watching Preston eat his dinner.
They're back in the apartment, sitting in Preston's room, everyone else already
sleeping. The plan for tomorrow's Syndicate assembly scrawls rapidly over
Preston's glasses as he chews.

After sinking so low as to plead with him, Bray was
finally offered intel on the Syndicate's workings:

The underground units are preparing to block all main
public transportation routes in the district by staging technical difficulties
and instigating strikes and riots. They'll block off the cargo port too, and
sabotage access to stored resources. They've already sabotaged most of the
district's TMC appliances, fuel storage units and food distribution lines.
Demoralized Ticks are easier to provoke. And if all else fails, cutting off
their supply vein from Hades will goad them into getting sloppy and making
mistakes. Once the Ticks engage in a direct fight—physical, political, or even
propagandist—the Syndicate can proceed to the next phase of their offensive.

The units will take out some TMC hubs, preferably remote
ones without significant casualties but good demonstrative potential. They'll
bomb Trust offices that service the Ticks, from financial institutions to
factories and communication centers. Basically anything the TMC needs to
function will be disabled or destroyed, forcing them to act—preferably to
overreact
.
Which won't be particularly hard to achieve.

Bray's biggest concern is that things will get out of hand
a
lot
faster than Preston anticipates. But he says nothing. The doc
never listens to him anyway.

Bray told him about following Taryn on her scouting trip,
about the surveillance bot she destroyed with her bare hands. Thankfully
Preston didn't want an explanation; he couldn't have come up with one if he
tried. And then how later on, Taryn went to
Calle Squero
. Bray couldn't
close in on her too much. A patrolling officer got curious about him and chased
him around the block. He'd lost track of Taryn after that, but there was only
one possible thing she could have done on that street. She must have met with
Cris. The doc hasn't said a word about that either.

Too many things are hanging in the air, and Bray can't
tolerate the tension. He taps his foot nervously up and down, squeaking his
boot.

Preston glares at him over his glasses. "Stop that. I
need to focus."

"Sorry."

Every second ticks away slower than the previous ones.
Bray's feet burn with restlessness. "What you think, doc? About Taryn, I
mean."

"Doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what we
can use."

"Meaning?"

"Things are getting more interesting," Preston
says around a bite of faux chicken. "I had Costa comb the
Transiter
's
logs. He said our dear Miss Harber flew to Tau Ceti while you were busy
brawling with drunks."

Bray grinds his teeth.

"What I don't understand—" Preston swallows,
"—is why she went back home. There's nothing on Maza but ruins. And then
why come back here after all that trouble?"

"Can't go anywhere else without a synet."

"Maybe." Preston picks a lump of fleshy fiber
apart and stuffs it into his mouth, dripping sauce on his beard.

Bray wraps his arms around his stomach and presses them
tight. He has no appetite.

"Also," Preston adds, "Costa said Hades
deployed a Falcon to Tau Ceti, right after she returned. It reported seven
orbital drones and the last Dorylinae hive destroyed. '
Ruins indicative of
explosions
,' as the report had it. That can't be a coincidence."

Bray startles. "What you think happened?"

"I have several theories." Preston gesticulates
with his fork. "The most likely scenario is that the aliens did it."

"The Dorylinae self-destructed?"

The look Preston gives Bray is withering. "The
other
aliens, the ones who captured Miss Harber and infected her." Bray starts
tapping his foot again. "I've no idea why," Preston continues.
"Something must have gone wrong there. A failed talk with the Dorylinae,
perhaps. An old feud. Bad negotiation..."

"Wouldn't the Ticks get riled up about those aliens
entering human space?"

"They don't
know
about it. The Falcon only
found the wrecked drones; no aliens. They haven't got anything from long range
surveillance yet."

"Think the aliens are still there?" The thought
of those brawny, green beasts with razor-sharp claws makes Bray ill.

Preston shrugs. "Maybe. Something doesn't add up,
though. The Dorylinae don't negotiate with anyone. If they did they'd have
already done so with the Ticks. No, those bugs don't like intruders of
any
kind. That's what must have happened—the new aliens intruded on them, the
Dorylinae resisted and got squashed."

"But why would—"

"Miss Harber," Preston jumps, struck by the
notion that's taken hold of him. "She must have fled to Maza to hide, and
the aliens peeled her out of there by force."

Bray stops tapping his foot. The image of Taryn being
dragged out of a crumbling hive by those beasts turns his pulse up. He doesn't
like his own reaction, and tries to move along. "What would she be hiding
from?"

"Who cares?" Preston drops his cutlery on the
plate. "Those aliens have the firepower to take down the Master
Hive—something the Ticks never managed. And they're willing to use that
firepower to retrieve their little proxy. Leveling everything in their way. Do
you see where I'm going?"

Bray's head is spinning. He shrugs uncomfortably.

Preston groans and pushes the plate away. He opens the
panel above the table, pulls out a small projector and calls up a list of his
most prominent Syndicate connections in Erano. Bray recognizes some of the
names, among them a politician, a famous judge, and a news anchor. "What
now?" he asks.

Preston looks up as if he's forgotten about him. "I
have to organize a guerilla war," he says dismissively. "You stick to
your own duties. Keep following Taryn. I need to know how things evolve. You
keep an eye on Jade, too. He was with her on Maza. Find out how much he knows,
just don't be stupid about it."

Bray nods. He watches Preston connect his nacom to the
computer and open several com channels at the same time. The doc flies through
multiple encryptions, hacking faster than Bray can follow. Bray sighs and
stands up.

"One more thing," Preston says without looking
up. "I just checked in with Crispin Nevala. He denies ever having met Miss
Harber. I want you to look into that."

"How am I supposed to—"

"I don't care. Just do it."

"Fine," Bray says through clenched teeth. He
turns on his heels and leaves Preston to his networking.

Harrowing thoughts about armed aliens swarming the city
haunt him in his sleep.

-

Amharr watches the human vessel approach the
Undawan
,
their craft a speck of dust adrift in the vastness of space. They've stopped
trying to communicate, and since Amharr has not ordered the
Undawan
to stop
its slide into human territory, they have apparently decided to take action.

"Three humans are aboard the incoming attack
vessel," the First Commander says, both his hands laid out on the
controls. "Crude energy building aboard, probably weapons being readied."

"Retrieve them," Amharr says placidly.
"Prow bay."

The First Commander obeys, and they watch as the
Undawan
swallows the human vessel and yields it to the desired location. The Onryss
announces the completion of the process.

Amharr heads down to the bay with the Onryss beside him
and Gra'Ylgam in his shadow. They enter through the corridor wall, and Amharr
immediately suppresses his senses. He remains in the dark background of the
bay, as always, inspecting the vessel from a distance. He wonders whether other
humans are anything like Taryn.

Gra'Ylgam approaches the vessel first and opens the hatch
of its thin metallic hull. Three weapons aim at him through the opening.

"Out," the Kolsamal growls. "Now."

None of the humans move.

Amharr slowly approaches the vessel from the side,
studying them. One of the humans sees him, startles, and starts screaming at
the other two. Another starts shooting at Amharr. The bullets pelt the
shielding on his arm, drizzle down beside him, and are swallowed by the floor.

Gra'Ylgam grabs two of the humans and yanks them out. The
third one shoots him in the head. His skull cracks open with a sharp noise.

Amharr's nerves flare up. In the blink of an eye he stands
before the human, plants a hand on his helmet and plucks him out of the vessel.
The man flails and screams, shooting at random. He tries to punch and kick
himself free, then fumbles with his helmet.

Amharr draws him closer, tasting the air. He looks for any
resemblance, for even the slightest promise of momentary relief. There is none.
This human is useless. Amharr crushes the man's helmet along with his skull.

Another man screams. Gra'Ylgam knocks him down with a
short blow to the head. He clutches at his wounded forehead and groans.

Amharr cuts the third man down with a quick strike and
turns toward Gra'Ylgam. "Are your injuries severe?"

"I will recover." Gra'Ylgam pants and grunts,
guzzling the cytoplasma and blood trailing down from his gun-shot wound, never
wasting a single precious molecule.

"Let us return to the crux and destroy the
rest," Amharr says.

"If that is your order."

Amharr pauses. "Do you disapprove?"

Gra'Ylgam pushes himself back up, still clutching at his
forehead. "Have you decided to contain this species after all?"

"No."

"Then this is nothing but a distraction. You are
avoiding the truth: that you are no longer a Dominant. That you are no longer a
part of the Ascendancy."

"Enough. The High Emranti will always be part of the
Ascendancy."

"Not you."

"I am a High Emranti
Dominant
," Amharr
thunders.

"That is no longer true," Gra'Ylgam says
patiently.

"Then nothing is true anymore," Amharr retorts,
walking past him. "Only death."

I can see rather well in the darkness of our room. It's a
new thing, and I kind of like it. A lot of things are new to me lately, and I
like that too. I'm surprisingly keen on all this
otherness
going on.

I've been listening to Jade's rhythmic breathing for a
while now, to make certain he's asleep. My thigh still throbs around the
embedded bullet, but there's no pain, and my muscles work fine. I should remove
it but I don't know how, and the wound is already closing up all by itself. In
a couple more days, only a tiny scar will be visible.

Jade is snoring softly. Evenly. I lower my feet quietly to
the carpeted floor. Jade rips one under the blanket, and I stifle a giggle. I
fumble for the small screwdriver I set aside in my cubbyhole, and sneak over to
the com unit.

I carefully unscrew the front panel and lay it down on the
floor. Then I unscrew the display and the retina scanner for the com access to
make more room. I don't need them anyway, all I need is a working core and a
connection. The lack of light makes it difficult to distinguish between the
small parts, but my newly keener night vision helps, and I've worked with communication
technology long enough to recognize the entrails of a basic com unit model, its
processor, GPU, and chipset, by shape, size, and material. The problem is I
don't know what to tap into and in what order to make this work.

I peer over at Jade, still snoring into his pillow, and
take a deep breath. I press my left index against a microprocessor and my
middle finger against another. Then stick my thumb underneath the RAM chip, the
base of my palm touching the networking chip. I wedge the fingers of my right
hand on top of the unit's motherboard and close my eyes, breathing deeply.

One... two... three.

Nothing.

I concentrate on the com unit's circuits and micro-welds,
envisioning its many pathways buzzing with electrons, and try to control them
with my will.

Nothing happens.

I'm a complete idiot.
Damn it
!

My fingers are starting to cramp. Why won't this piece of
shit machinery do what I want? I've got the juice and the nerve, and this
badass alien superpower going for me, so why won't it work?

Come on. Just a little blip. A single electron. Move for
me, baby!

Nothing happens.

I clench my fingers, jabbing the unit's guts with all my
strength. White noise fills my ears, making me dizzy. My vision begins to
brighten like a light-pierced storm cloud. Sparks flare up before my eyes,
millions of them—millions of electrons traveling through the wires before me.
My head spins and my palms burn.

I lean my forehead against the wall, my head filled with
swarming, buzzing, deviously spinning pinpoints. A violent shudder runs through
me like an electric current. The energy flows freely now, through all my veins
and nerves and bones.

I can do this
.

Concentrate
.

I'm drowning in the richness of information like a
flailing baby in an angry sea. I see millions of things all at once: pictures
of people, voices and texts, sequences and colors and music, laughter and
chatter and inscrutable noise. Like a thousand parties compressed into a single
room. A thousand rivers flowing through a single straw. The undertow is so
powerful, I fear I'll never be able to resurface again.

I try to compress my thoughts into a composite image, like
the mnemonics for my synet, and send it out through the com. My fingers cramp,
my nerves flare up, and I clench my jaw.

Light bursts out of me in a powerful stream—into the com
circuits—through the city's networks—hunting, forking out, coalescing
again—streaming into another device, forcing it to life.

"Hello?"

I hear a woman's voice, distant and raspy with white
noise. Have I made it? Has it worked?

"Who is this?"

"Governor?" I think as loudly as I can, and
realize my thoughts burst through an even louder speaker in a gush of white
noise.

"Who is this?"

"Am I speaking to Governor De Luca?" With every
word my voice becomes clearer.

"How did you get this access?"

"I need to speak to you." A new noise penetrates
my connection. Something—or someone—is trying to block me and track me back.

"Who the hell is this?" the governor asks.

"There's a revolution brewing in the city's guts. The
Dabaran Syndicate plans to attack the TMC out in the open and turn Erano into a
war zone."

"Is this a joke? Who
is
this?" the
governor demands.

"You can't let this happen. Powerful aliens are
watching us, on behalf of a galactic alliance. They're here to evaluate
humanity, and if we don't pass, we'll be decimated—all our colonies—the entire
human race. We'll be contained by force." I bite my tongue, realizing just
how crazy that sounds.

"I don't have time for tasteless pranks. Get off this
line."

"Listen to me.
Please
. If the Syndicate starts
a war they'll doom us all. You must stop them at any cost. Warn the TMC if you
have to—"

"Ma'am, you are committing a felony," a man
intrudes on us. "Get off this line immediately."

"Please, Governor. I'm speaking the tr—"

Our connection is cut.

I tumble back through the network, retracting into myself.
I drop to the floor of our room. Everything trembles, as if shaken by a
horrendous earthquake, and I'm blinded by residual light.

"Taryn, what's wrong?" A tiny voice gets through
the white noise in my head. The muscles in my throat are raw as if I've been
breathing searing smoke. "Are you okay?" Jade asks. "You
fall?"

I squint at his blurry face and try to sit up. Everything
hurts. "Com," I whisper.

"I'm right here."

"No, the com..." I point at the wall. Several
components hang from the wall on smoking wires, the dangling display flickering
erratically on and off.

"What the hell did you do to it?"

"I called the governor." My energy returns in
full as the realization hits home. "It fucking worked!"

Jade stares at me as if I lost my mind. "What are you
talking about?"

I sit up and lean against the wall. "I can manipulate
electronic devices with my bare hands. With my
mind
! Isn't that awesome?
I fried a surveillance bot yesterday. It was following me and I couldn't outrun
it, so I fried it. I just hacked into the com—went straight through the whole
damn grid." I burst into laughter. "I called the freaking governor!"

"
What
?"

I tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. "The
alien particles, Jade. My link to Amharr. It helped me do it."

He stares at me like I'm nuts. "You were dreaming,
Taryn. Go back to sleep." He sits back down on his bed and rubs his face.

"I fried Costa's office door lock, remember? In the
Center? The sentinel's handheld, too, back at the gate. And I broke out of the
restraining field in the Spiron medbay. Remember?" I grin at him.

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "So what did the
governor say?"

He doesn't believe me.

Who cares? I can manipulate technology!

"I tried to warn her about Amharr evaluating
us." I wave my hand through the air. "She didn't buy it, of
course."

"No shit," Jade mumbles.

"Well, I had to try." And I had to find out just
how precise this new power of mine is.

"How about you try doing something useful for a change."
He tucks himself back in. He doesn't believe any of this, I realize with
disappointment. "I've got plenty of things on my to-do list. You have to
stop blacking out on me, you know. It's not funny anymore."

"It was funny before?"

He yawns. "You look like a drunk badger when you flop
down like that."

"Har-har." I grimace at him as I climb up into
my own bed. I throw myself over the covers, hands still trembling from the
rush.

"G'night," Jade says from below. "Try not
to break anything else. Vik's gonna have a shitfit when he sees that com
unit."

A thousand things go through my mind as I lie in bed, but before
I know it, I'm swimming through Amharr's memories, falling into dream-filled
sleep.