Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala]
02-04-2011, 11:44 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Moments prior...
"Julia, are you there?"
The girl cursed inwardly. This man had no sense of covert protocol. Then again, he hadn't come to power in the same environment as her and her brother. He had cunning, but was too unfamiliar with what "secrecy" meant in the modern day-and-age. No matter. He was obviously a fast learner.
"Don't call me that, never on an unsecured channel. Some has been follow-" There was a crash on the other end of the call, and then the line went dead. The girl checked local security feeds, and was able to piece together a basic picture of destruction caused by Soft's entrance. There was nothing she could do for Reinhardt here.
The girl dropped down through an elevator shaft's emergency exit into one of them many service tunnels of the city, and brought up a display of several of the city's digital message boards. She had been posing as "Prism", the "resistance leader" she'd invented earlier that morning. Almost immediately after the broadcast, she had begun quietly began setting up an information network for the resistance, a movement which was growing the more "Prism" showed himself. Recruits were surprisingly easy to come by; previously mild racial friction now blown to unbearable proportions in the wake of the city's recent massacres had stirred much of the non-human population to be more receptive to the idea of taking action.
She'd kept herself physically busy, of course. A few well-spent hours back in the workshop she'd found earlier netted her five more gauss-type guns, which she sent off for use in her burgeoning resistance movement. Though, she was becoming increasingly annoyed with the walls of sparkling purple energy which had laid themselves all across the city. The time required to find ways through them was becoming a major impediment to her progress. Balance would have to be dealt with, at some point.
Having already laid much of the groundwork for an organized resistance, the girl began disseminating instructions. She pursed her lips, and continued on down a service corridor of the local public, underground transportation. She still had a few loose ends to tie up.
---
Ambrose's stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything yet today. She was considering getting up to grab something from the food replication unit when a notice jockeyed for her attention inside one of her cubes. She opened it immediately, and nearly gasped when she realized what she was hearing. A conversation between Matthew and... someone named "Julia"? Thoughts of food once more forgotten, Ambrose shoved her hands back into the cubes and began waggling her fingers in a complex weave as she attempted to trace the call.
---
Ur brooded in an abandoned parking lot. So distracted was she with her own internal demons that she didn't notice the small, six-limbed furry creature across the lot, hiding in the shadows, preparing to fire a makeshift thermal cannon at her. It was cobbled together from various aircar parts, and this was the first opportunity the alien had to test it on what it was pretty sure was a human. Looked human, anyway.
So it was that Ur also did not notice as a small hole suddenly appeared in the side of the alien's head. The alien was jerked slightly to the side, carried by the excess energy of the projectile, and slumped over quietly, dead. Shortly thereafter, Ur left, to attend to her own goals.
---
The girl paused at a ladder, and double-checked her location against the blueprints of these tunnels. She looked up the shaft, and decided this was the one she wanted. She began climbing.
As she moved up, hand over hand, she continued to monitor Reinhardt's... situation. Between the surprisingly strong girl-spirit and this Minotaurus, she had a lot of damage control heading her way. She began to set up a few preemptive defenses, just in case.As she was preparing to erase record of their recent conversation, she found a few oddities, almost as if...
She nearly froze mid-climb. Someone had been listening. Someone had been listening! Her brow furrowed as she discovered that no trace of the listener's origin had been left behind. Whoever she was dealing with, they were very good. From what she'd been gathering on Minotaurus, he certainly fit the bill. Nearly at her level, and considering this city's level of technology...
She continued climbing, determined to reach her goal.
---
Reinhardt moved quickly away from where he'd pinned the annoying brat. The girl's last words on the communicator were troubling him, but he knew by instinct that he had to get to the other administrators. According to the information his partner had sent to him earlier, if they could be led to believe he was here to help, they would be able to give him whatever power he needed over the city. Provided the right... incentives, of course. He'd jogged a good distance away by now, and according to the holographic map in his vision, he was well on his way towards the Administrative Bloc.
Reinhardt.
The voice was just as crisp as always.
I was wondering when you'd contact me again. Your last words have been troubling me.
You have a ghost.
...pardon?
Someone's been ghosting you. Following you, discreetly. I should have seen it sooner... first they were looking into the Vanhart identity I created for you, and now there are digital fingerprints in every surveillance camera that's ever had a clear shot of you. Not to mention that someone heard our conversation earlier.
It seems to me that you have been... derelict in your duties, then.
Silence. Reinhardt spent the time searching for a hole in another of Balance's forcefields.
These were all areas of your responsibility, yes? And these are all areas which have been found to be... lacking? Perhaps you are not as good as you think you are. Or perhaps you are not as... invested in my goals as I have been led to believe.
The girl could not find a good angle on Reinhardt's face. He was avoiding what security cameras he could see. He was learning. More importantly, she still needed him. She had learned long ago when to let go of her pride, but doing so still wasn't easy. She clenched her teeth.
Errors easily rectified. I apologize if I have seemed lax in my duties. My goals are your goals.
Good. I am headed towards the Administrative Bloc. What will I need to know?
The Administrators are a group of fifteen high-ranking academics, all brilliant scientists and professors in their own right. Though they have ruled this utopic city in seeming cooperation, there are minor rivalries between them. Administrator Slott's death has tipped the balance towards a small group which has always been vocal about stronger security measures, considering the recent rise of corporate espionage. The other events of today have essentially solidified that group's position as the current leaders of the Administration. Their names are Dr. Soldova Burr, Dr. Pelinous Penrose, Dr. Qoi La'ar Som, and Dr. Gerritusilwalthoracksnis. Two humans, a Yun, and a Panthorn, respectively. The humans are the center of the group. They will give you the authority you need, piece by piece, and I will give you the excuses to grab more and more. How you weed out the non-human Administrators is up to you.
That will do. I must also inquire as to why you called our previous correspondence "unsecured". Surely you have ensured the devices you gave me to be safe to use?
They use highly advanced encryption algorithms, yes. But I never consider anything I haven't built myself to be secure. This is the most secure form of communication we have.
Should the need arise for me to contact you on an "unsecured" line in the future, I shall call you Jade.
... I understand.
Reinhardt closed the connection and smiled to himself. The girl had been uppity ever since they'd met, and now she'd been put in her place. She would be subservient to him or he would sever their service. Her brother, on the other hand...
Reinhardt frowned. They were of the same mind, he and the strange, silver-eyed man. But there was something... he couldn't quite place it. Continuing to puzzle over the problem, Reinhardt continued on his way through the currently deserted streets, skirting anything that sounded like a skirmish large enough to delay him.
Unfortunately, given New Shambhala's current state of chaos, avoiding the roaming gangs of protesters and bloodthirsty aliens proved to be rather difficult. As Reinhardt stepped onto a narrow bridge linking two large, suspended, a gang of angry-sounding aliens entered from the other side. Reinhardt turned, but found his way blocked by a group of equally angry-sounding humans. The latter group wasn't paying him much attention. He wished the same could be said about the former.
As it was obvious the only way through was to fight, Reinhardt pulled out the gun he'd used earlier, braced himself, and fired.
The energy blast carved straight through the dense group of aliens, like an invisible bowling ball knocking aside floppy pins. The aliens recoiled slightly, but then with cries of, "A human commando!" "Agent of the oppressors!", they pushed forwards. Reinhardt drew his sword. The humans rallied around him, and they charged.
Reinhardt cleaved through the aliens, graceful yet forceful. Despite his skills, however, he was unused to fighting against such unhuman opponents. He didn't account for the flexibility of a tentacled alien, as one of its limbs, holding a sharp object neatly dodged his swing, circled around behind him. Before he could react, the alien fell dead, and a sticky yellow fluid began to ooze from a freshly-made hole in the side of its central nervous cluster. Reinhardt looked around for the shooter, but the bridge crossed an enormous gap, and buildings towered all around him. The shooter could have been anywhere, and besides, Reinhardt was quickly distracted by the surviving aliens.
He and the humans dispatched the rest of the other group quickly and easily. The humans thanked Reinhardt, and the tyrant told them they were doing good work, and that New Shambhala would be free of aliens very soon.
Vandrel Reinhardt left them, and continued onwards.
---
Ambrose sat back. It had ended. Whatever "it" was. She'd nearly jumped a foot into the air when that strange electromagnetic field appeared around Reinhardt again. She still couldn't make much sense of it, but she pointed every sensor and ran every diagnostic algorithm she could muster at the field until it disappeared again. This time, however, she'd gotten a good ninety seconds of solid data. Vanhart had gotten harder to track after that, so what she had afterwards was splotchy, and now she wasn't able to find him at all, which was only marginally confusing. He was heading through a part of the city that had suffered pretty badly from the earlier riots. Still, she should at least be able to see something...
She tapped an icon on the leftmost face of her leftmost cube, and a horn appeared.
"Heya Minnie, gotta present for ya."
"I told you to stop calling me th-"
"A really really strange level 6 electromagnetic field has been following Vanhart."
"... give me the data."
"What? Minnie come on, you can't just-"
"Give it to me."
"Why?"
"I know someone who can interpret it."
"... Minnie... Minotaurus, buddy guy... person... listen you can't just keep demanding things of other people. What do I get out of this?"
"I'll tell you what he tells me."
Ambrose sighed.
"That's not what I mean. I want payment. You usually pay me for my information. I thought we had a nice working relationship."
"Fine."
A small blip indicated money had been transferred into the holding account they frequently used.
"Really, Minnie? I'm not stupid. This is worth more. The fact that you've gone all 'commissar' on my ass and have been demanding rather than paying is proof enough. Somethin' big is goin' down and I not only want my fair share of the loot, but I want in on the whole thing."
"No, you don't."
"What do you mean I d-"
"I'll pay you more, but you don't want to know what this is all about. Trust me, total worldview collapse is not a pleasant experience."
"... total whatnow?"
"Transfer the data. I'll transfer the money. I'll have my contact analyze it, and I'll send you the results. But that's it."
Ambrose pouted. "I guess that'll do..."
She nudged the appropriate holographic symbols, and Minotaurus's icon disappeared. "Not even so much as a 'thank you'..." she grumbled to herself, but her heart wasn't really in it. Her credit account was being distracting.
---
Balance had his hands full ensuring equal deaths. Humans and aliens were slaughtering each other all across the city, and for every human death, and Balance, having taken the stance that both sides must remain equal, was killing a human for every non-human, and a non-human for every human.
The god's indiscriminate killing had made him enemies everywhere, and as he paused, standing over his latest attempt to maintain equality, a growing whine caused him to look up. An aircar was barreling straight for him. The god's vision could make out the driver, a human, grimly gripping the controls, face set in a determined grimace, obviously intent on killing Balance any way he could.
The car was moving fast, and Balance had been caught unprepared. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have been killed, especially since the car was filled with explosives. A fact Balance only became aware of when it exploded in mid-air, and even several hundred feet away, the blast was still powerful enough to knock him off his feet.
As the god pulled himself back upright, a small detail nagged for his attention. Thinking back, just before the aircar exploded, he had noticed something travel quickly through the air, fast enough to appear as a thin, dull grey line, and hit the car. He puzzled over the apparent intervention, and then shrugged. Just another death to balance.
---
The members of resistance cell 314 eyed each other warily. Well, most of them eyed. A few used high-pitched frequencies to observe the positions of objects in the room, and the body stances of their companions, or pointed their infrared-detection fronds towards the others in an accusatory manner. That they had been assembled so quickly was enough to put them on edge; each was afraid the others were not up to the task, and that their own wavering courage would be discovered. In true, cell-organized resistance manner, none of them knew the identities of their superiors, what other cells were doing, or even how many other cells there were. "314" didn't necessarily indicate a number in a sequence. For all they knew, they were the only cell.
They had all traveled long and indirect paths to reach this meeting; indirect, mostly because of the sparkling forcefields which criss-crossed the city. Most of them assumed the forcefields were some kind of automated defence for the city.
They were meeting in a recently abandoned apartment, thoroughly ransacked by looters. A large table in the middle of the apartment, which had proved too heavy for any of the looters, made a nice meeting space. The twelve aliens were gathered around it.
A large mass of long, curiously textured hair at the door of the empty apartment whuffed impatiently. Its hair began to vibrate, producing a variety of buzzing noises. The other being's translators began to chatter in or at their appropriate sensory apparati. "Well, we all know why we're here. Why don't we just get started?"
A confusing tangle of limbs near a wall began gesticulating wildly.
"But we don't know what we're each supposed to do! Prism just told us to invade Administration, but not how or or... who should do what or... anything! How do we even accomplish this?"
The mass of hair began to vibrate again, but an elephantine creature stepped forward from the far end of the apartment.
"Prism said more than that. Our exact orders are to take control of Administration and take all humans we find hostage. Prism obviously trusts our competence enough to leave the details up to us. So, I suggest we all begin laying some ideas on the table."
A twisting mess of light and shadow began glinting frantically.
"Well, first we'll need to ensure we can neutralize all the security staff. How do we even do something like that? We have no weapons!"
The mass of hair somehow managed to vibrate commandingly. "Yes, we do." A large box was pushed out from beneath the hair's bulk, and pulled open by an odd brown tendril, which then retreated back beneath the mass of hair. The gathered beings moved forward, and collectively gasped... or emitted some analogous reaction. There, before them, were five universally-designed gauss guns, similar to the one Prism had used on the earlier broadcast. It didn't matter that there weren't enough for all of them. Five was all they needed.
The twelve gathered beings began communicating excitedly, more confident now, some even daring to hope their revolution would succeed.
---
Ambrose yawned, and stretched. She'd lost Vanhart five minutes ago, and aside from the disturbing evidence of an anti-human terrorist network establishing itself across the city's information network, she didn't have a whole lot to do. Minnie, the selfish bastard, wouldn't let her look into the Vanhart identity, and all her other trails had dead-ended one after the other. The only worrying aspect of her inaction was that her searches for more information about this "Julia" person had been completely fruitless. The encryption on the call was top-level, and almost proved a challenge for the master burner. But despite all her skill, she still couldn't locate the other end of the call. Not one to trouble herself by worrying about something she couldn't solve for the time being, she'd set the issue aside until more data presented itself. In other words, Ambrose Lom was extremely bored.
So when Minotaurus's icon popped up again, she could barely contain a squeal of excitement.
"'Sup Minnie, Minnow, Mmmmmmightymousey, whaddya got for me?"
"... are you all right?"
"Damnit Minnie I'm goin' stir-crazy here! You've gotta give me something!"
"I will. I can. Unfortunately not over this connection. Looks like I'm going to have to bring you in deeper than I'd like."
Ambrose stopped bouncing and sobered. Minotaurus's tone was deadly serious.
"You're going to meet with someone, in a public place, in twenty minutes. I'll send the address to your mobile unit; stick to public transportation. I'd avoid your aircycle for now."
"Sure th-wait, how do you know I have an aircy-"
The connection was cut and the horn disappeared. Ambrose got up, and then looked down. Deciding that now would probably be a good time to put on some clothes, she glanced at her wrist display to confirm the address had been received, threw on some loose pants and a rather worn-out long-sleeved shirt, grabbed a small nutrition bar from her counter and rushed out the door.
Two seconds later she came back, put on her shoes, and ran back out again, locking the door behind her.
---
Cole glared at the commando's armored back. All his attempts to push for how Girnham knew "Minotaurus" had been neatly rebuffed.
Cole was beginning to suspect the soldier was lying.
Still, they were definitely headed somewhere. And Girnham didn't seem to be that adept in the ways of deceit. If the mercenary's intents were malicious, Cole felt sure he'd be able to tell by now.
Which made the small, quiet, irregular, but consistent sounds picked up by his audio sensory fronds all the more worrisome. They'd been following the pair for some time, and despite Cole's best attempts at surreptitious recon, he'd never seen or heard or sensed anything more than the occasional soft step, creak, or tap which had been keeping pace with them. Normally indistinguishable from the regular background noise of a city in chaos, the sounds would have gone unnoticed by anyone but Cole. His acute pattern recognition abilities, gained from years of struggling through complex scientific research and concepts, combined with his finely-tuned natural suspicion, were enough to make the consistent closeness of the sounds stand out to him.
And whatever was making those sounds, there were definitely two of them. One watcher for Cole Aran, and one watcher for Phil Girnham.
The pair came out of a dusty alleyway onto a vast, elevated, deserted promenade. Hastily-made signs spouting idealistic rhetoric of varying types littered the ground, forming drifts against the occasional body - evidence of the protests-turned-riot-turned-slaughter which had been happening all over the city.
Phil led them over to a monolithic office building of some sort. As they hiked up the massive marble stairs to the large, heavily fortified security doors of the main entrance, a group of five guards, armed guards, came out to meet them.
Phil, who had been holding his rifle in a ready position during the trek, cautiously lowered the muzzle, but kept it raised enough to still be threatening. Cole just bristled.
The guards, three humans and two hard-skinned, featherless bird-like humanoids, waited for them at the top of the stairs. "Minotaurus has been expecting you, Cole Aran. If you would follow us."
Cole and Phil glanced at each other. The guards seemed to be pointedly ignoring the commando. Cole looked back at the guards, and their guns. This was the first time he'd actually seen munitions of any kind on New Shambhala, and he suspected these may be the only armed forces in the city. If such was the case...
Cole was still suspicious of this "Minotaurus" and his motives. It couldn't hurt to have Phil with him if things got ugly.
He turned his gaze from the guns and back to the human who'd spoken. "My associate will be joining me." The guard opened his mouth to reply, but something about the directness of Cole's statement stopped him. He nodded, and gestured towards the door. "This way," he said, and the other guards fell into position around Phil and Cole as the entire group entered the building.
Inside was a lavish, soaring atrium. The ceiling was roughly sixty stories above them, and sat atop a tapered point, as the atrium narrowed with height. A stairwell of disconnected, floating steps swooped downwards on either side of the oval floor. In the center, an intricate and beautiful circular pattern decorated the softly self-illuminating floor. Massive windows replaced the walls of the first level, and artificial sunlight shone down upon the levitating isles of exotic plants drifting through the atrium's upper levels.
The uniformed guards were to be found in abundance, as well. A majority of them were human, or belonged to the same avian species as Phil and Cole's escorts. A few other more alien species could be seen, wearing their equivalent of what appeared to be the standard guards' uniform. The only exception was a hulking three-legged shape, completely covered with brilliant white, glinting armor. It stood rock-still off to the side, and Cole almost mistook it for a statue until he noticed the way others were avoiding it. That, and the two massive weapon-ends sticking out from behind its back. Neither contestant could identify them.
Overall, a very strong security presence, though automated security was oddly lacking.
The guards continued moving towards the center of the atrium, and then suddenly stopped in the middle of the circular pattern. Phil and Cole looked around warily. Then the ground moved, and the pair found themselves, along with their escort, being carried towards the building's top by a levitating circular platform.
The platform moved too quickly for either contestant to easily resolve the many floors and rooms they passed, but the entire structure was obviously buzzing with activity. To what purpose, however, was the question nagging Cole.
The platform continued on through a circular hole in the ceiling of the atrium. The platform traveled through a cylindrical shaft for a few seconds before coming to rest in a circular room, the floor of which was conveniently also the platform they'd just arrived on.. The escort dispersed, and took up positions on either side of an an unassuming opaque glass door. Phil and Cole cautiously approached. It slid smoothly open. The pair stepped through.
The room was tastefully spartan. It was by no means large or looming, and was relatively well-lit. A few small bookshelves lined one wall, and a few small couches sat in the leftmost corner, near the door. The air was refreshingly chill. The only extravagance was the rear wall, which was a single window looking out at the sparkling city. The towers of New Shambhala cast long, foreboding shadows in the waning sunlight.
Standing in front of the window, silhouetted by the setting sun, was a stocky, broad-shouldered, horned figure. A deep exhalation stirred from its solid frame. "I imagine you both must have a few questions."
The window began turned opaque, and the figure turned to face the contestants, and both mentally recoiled at a sight literally out of myth. A bull's face looked back at them. Its eyes glittered with keen intelligence, and fixed them both with a stare.
"I am known as Minotaurus. And you," he gestured a thick arm towards Phil, "are Phil Girnham, former commando. You," turning his head to Cole, "are Cole Aran, former biologist, cursed by Anansi."
"How do you know all this?" Phil demanded.
"It is my business to know things. Though, I must profess I do not know why you are here, Mr. Girnham. I intended only to meet with Mr. Aran."
Cole threw Phil a suspicious look, and the commando could feel the minotaur's gaze fixing him from across the room. Phil reasoned it a bad move to answer that question. He remained silent.
Minotaurus waited quietly for a few more seconds, before moving on. "I assume we'll find out soon. Regardless, I must speak with Mr. Aran alone. If you would excuse us?" Phil nodded, and gratefully left the room. The door slid closed behind him, meeting the wall with a quiet thud.
Phil walked into the platform room a ways and then stopped, scoping out the guards still positioned around the room. He turned back to the door. "This had better be quick," he grumbled to himself. He adopted a comfortable yet ready stance and prepared to wait.
A message popped up on his helmet's HUD, startling him out of his boredom.
Well done. The girl will be waiting for you on the ground floor.
Phil blinked. Was that it?
Before he had a chance to puzzle over the confusingly short message, the door to Minotaurus's office opened soundlessly once more, and Cole stepped out. He strode into the platform room and over to his waiting companion. Phil caught a glimpse of the minotaur with his back to the door once more, looking out towards the falling twilight. The door slid shut once more, its quiet thud perfectly masking the sound of softly landing feet just inside room.
Cole approached Phil. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Phil shifted. "Well?"
Cole looked at Phil, stretching out the commando's obvious discomfort. "Well, we talked. The only thing you need to know is that Minotaurus doesn't know why you're here. I have to admit, I'm curious now, too."
Phil shifted again, a little more uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not really sure mys-" His words were cut off as an explosion blew out the door to the office. The guards pointed their weapons at the contestants and opened fire, while at the same time alarms went off all over the building. One of the guards slapped a pad on the wall behind him and the floor dropped out from beneath Cole and Phil. The pair had survived the initial barrage thanks to Phil's shields and Cole's quick hardening of his exoskeleton, but were now unprepared to handle sudden free-fall. Thinking quickly, Cole sprouted four almost invisible wings, which then turned completely invisible as they beat faster than the eye could see, emitting a jarringly low buzzing sound. Phil, not having the luxury of flight, immediately fired a magnetic grappling hook at the ceiling. The clamp landed close to the inner wall of the atrium, and Phil swung down, performing minute corrections with the grappling line's length. He crashed through a window a few floors down, hitting the floor at a perfect angle to roll to his feet and begin firing at the surprised guards. Cole, lacking a place to land and not willing to brave the gauntlet of a direct descent, touched down next to Phil. The pair turned and looked out over the atrium. Where before it was buzzing with activity, now it was overwhelmed. Guards could be seen flowing up the single, spiraling floor of which lined the atrium. The contestants moved away from the edge, and noted the how the floor slanted downwards slightly. There was only one way down. No stairs, elevators, or secondary routes. Just a single, unbroken spiral.
Phil grinned. Cole sprouted more weapons. The pair advanced.
"Julia, are you there?"
The girl cursed inwardly. This man had no sense of covert protocol. Then again, he hadn't come to power in the same environment as her and her brother. He had cunning, but was too unfamiliar with what "secrecy" meant in the modern day-and-age. No matter. He was obviously a fast learner.
"Don't call me that, never on an unsecured channel. Some has been follow-" There was a crash on the other end of the call, and then the line went dead. The girl checked local security feeds, and was able to piece together a basic picture of destruction caused by Soft's entrance. There was nothing she could do for Reinhardt here.
The girl dropped down through an elevator shaft's emergency exit into one of them many service tunnels of the city, and brought up a display of several of the city's digital message boards. She had been posing as "Prism", the "resistance leader" she'd invented earlier that morning. Almost immediately after the broadcast, she had begun quietly began setting up an information network for the resistance, a movement which was growing the more "Prism" showed himself. Recruits were surprisingly easy to come by; previously mild racial friction now blown to unbearable proportions in the wake of the city's recent massacres had stirred much of the non-human population to be more receptive to the idea of taking action.
She'd kept herself physically busy, of course. A few well-spent hours back in the workshop she'd found earlier netted her five more gauss-type guns, which she sent off for use in her burgeoning resistance movement. Though, she was becoming increasingly annoyed with the walls of sparkling purple energy which had laid themselves all across the city. The time required to find ways through them was becoming a major impediment to her progress. Balance would have to be dealt with, at some point.
Having already laid much of the groundwork for an organized resistance, the girl began disseminating instructions. She pursed her lips, and continued on down a service corridor of the local public, underground transportation. She still had a few loose ends to tie up.
---
Ambrose's stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything yet today. She was considering getting up to grab something from the food replication unit when a notice jockeyed for her attention inside one of her cubes. She opened it immediately, and nearly gasped when she realized what she was hearing. A conversation between Matthew and... someone named "Julia"? Thoughts of food once more forgotten, Ambrose shoved her hands back into the cubes and began waggling her fingers in a complex weave as she attempted to trace the call.
---
Ur brooded in an abandoned parking lot. So distracted was she with her own internal demons that she didn't notice the small, six-limbed furry creature across the lot, hiding in the shadows, preparing to fire a makeshift thermal cannon at her. It was cobbled together from various aircar parts, and this was the first opportunity the alien had to test it on what it was pretty sure was a human. Looked human, anyway.
So it was that Ur also did not notice as a small hole suddenly appeared in the side of the alien's head. The alien was jerked slightly to the side, carried by the excess energy of the projectile, and slumped over quietly, dead. Shortly thereafter, Ur left, to attend to her own goals.
---
The girl paused at a ladder, and double-checked her location against the blueprints of these tunnels. She looked up the shaft, and decided this was the one she wanted. She began climbing.
As she moved up, hand over hand, she continued to monitor Reinhardt's... situation. Between the surprisingly strong girl-spirit and this Minotaurus, she had a lot of damage control heading her way. She began to set up a few preemptive defenses, just in case.As she was preparing to erase record of their recent conversation, she found a few oddities, almost as if...
She nearly froze mid-climb. Someone had been listening. Someone had been listening! Her brow furrowed as she discovered that no trace of the listener's origin had been left behind. Whoever she was dealing with, they were very good. From what she'd been gathering on Minotaurus, he certainly fit the bill. Nearly at her level, and considering this city's level of technology...
She continued climbing, determined to reach her goal.
---
Reinhardt moved quickly away from where he'd pinned the annoying brat. The girl's last words on the communicator were troubling him, but he knew by instinct that he had to get to the other administrators. According to the information his partner had sent to him earlier, if they could be led to believe he was here to help, they would be able to give him whatever power he needed over the city. Provided the right... incentives, of course. He'd jogged a good distance away by now, and according to the holographic map in his vision, he was well on his way towards the Administrative Bloc.
Reinhardt.
The voice was just as crisp as always.
I was wondering when you'd contact me again. Your last words have been troubling me.
You have a ghost.
...pardon?
Someone's been ghosting you. Following you, discreetly. I should have seen it sooner... first they were looking into the Vanhart identity I created for you, and now there are digital fingerprints in every surveillance camera that's ever had a clear shot of you. Not to mention that someone heard our conversation earlier.
It seems to me that you have been... derelict in your duties, then.
Silence. Reinhardt spent the time searching for a hole in another of Balance's forcefields.
These were all areas of your responsibility, yes? And these are all areas which have been found to be... lacking? Perhaps you are not as good as you think you are. Or perhaps you are not as... invested in my goals as I have been led to believe.
The girl could not find a good angle on Reinhardt's face. He was avoiding what security cameras he could see. He was learning. More importantly, she still needed him. She had learned long ago when to let go of her pride, but doing so still wasn't easy. She clenched her teeth.
Errors easily rectified. I apologize if I have seemed lax in my duties. My goals are your goals.
Good. I am headed towards the Administrative Bloc. What will I need to know?
The Administrators are a group of fifteen high-ranking academics, all brilliant scientists and professors in their own right. Though they have ruled this utopic city in seeming cooperation, there are minor rivalries between them. Administrator Slott's death has tipped the balance towards a small group which has always been vocal about stronger security measures, considering the recent rise of corporate espionage. The other events of today have essentially solidified that group's position as the current leaders of the Administration. Their names are Dr. Soldova Burr, Dr. Pelinous Penrose, Dr. Qoi La'ar Som, and Dr. Gerritusilwalthoracksnis. Two humans, a Yun, and a Panthorn, respectively. The humans are the center of the group. They will give you the authority you need, piece by piece, and I will give you the excuses to grab more and more. How you weed out the non-human Administrators is up to you.
That will do. I must also inquire as to why you called our previous correspondence "unsecured". Surely you have ensured the devices you gave me to be safe to use?
They use highly advanced encryption algorithms, yes. But I never consider anything I haven't built myself to be secure. This is the most secure form of communication we have.
Should the need arise for me to contact you on an "unsecured" line in the future, I shall call you Jade.
... I understand.
Reinhardt closed the connection and smiled to himself. The girl had been uppity ever since they'd met, and now she'd been put in her place. She would be subservient to him or he would sever their service. Her brother, on the other hand...
Reinhardt frowned. They were of the same mind, he and the strange, silver-eyed man. But there was something... he couldn't quite place it. Continuing to puzzle over the problem, Reinhardt continued on his way through the currently deserted streets, skirting anything that sounded like a skirmish large enough to delay him.
Unfortunately, given New Shambhala's current state of chaos, avoiding the roaming gangs of protesters and bloodthirsty aliens proved to be rather difficult. As Reinhardt stepped onto a narrow bridge linking two large, suspended, a gang of angry-sounding aliens entered from the other side. Reinhardt turned, but found his way blocked by a group of equally angry-sounding humans. The latter group wasn't paying him much attention. He wished the same could be said about the former.
As it was obvious the only way through was to fight, Reinhardt pulled out the gun he'd used earlier, braced himself, and fired.
The energy blast carved straight through the dense group of aliens, like an invisible bowling ball knocking aside floppy pins. The aliens recoiled slightly, but then with cries of, "A human commando!" "Agent of the oppressors!", they pushed forwards. Reinhardt drew his sword. The humans rallied around him, and they charged.
Reinhardt cleaved through the aliens, graceful yet forceful. Despite his skills, however, he was unused to fighting against such unhuman opponents. He didn't account for the flexibility of a tentacled alien, as one of its limbs, holding a sharp object neatly dodged his swing, circled around behind him. Before he could react, the alien fell dead, and a sticky yellow fluid began to ooze from a freshly-made hole in the side of its central nervous cluster. Reinhardt looked around for the shooter, but the bridge crossed an enormous gap, and buildings towered all around him. The shooter could have been anywhere, and besides, Reinhardt was quickly distracted by the surviving aliens.
He and the humans dispatched the rest of the other group quickly and easily. The humans thanked Reinhardt, and the tyrant told them they were doing good work, and that New Shambhala would be free of aliens very soon.
Vandrel Reinhardt left them, and continued onwards.
---
Ambrose sat back. It had ended. Whatever "it" was. She'd nearly jumped a foot into the air when that strange electromagnetic field appeared around Reinhardt again. She still couldn't make much sense of it, but she pointed every sensor and ran every diagnostic algorithm she could muster at the field until it disappeared again. This time, however, she'd gotten a good ninety seconds of solid data. Vanhart had gotten harder to track after that, so what she had afterwards was splotchy, and now she wasn't able to find him at all, which was only marginally confusing. He was heading through a part of the city that had suffered pretty badly from the earlier riots. Still, she should at least be able to see something...
She tapped an icon on the leftmost face of her leftmost cube, and a horn appeared.
"Heya Minnie, gotta present for ya."
"I told you to stop calling me th-"
"A really really strange level 6 electromagnetic field has been following Vanhart."
"... give me the data."
"What? Minnie come on, you can't just-"
"Give it to me."
"Why?"
"I know someone who can interpret it."
"... Minnie... Minotaurus, buddy guy... person... listen you can't just keep demanding things of other people. What do I get out of this?"
"I'll tell you what he tells me."
Ambrose sighed.
"That's not what I mean. I want payment. You usually pay me for my information. I thought we had a nice working relationship."
"Fine."
A small blip indicated money had been transferred into the holding account they frequently used.
"Really, Minnie? I'm not stupid. This is worth more. The fact that you've gone all 'commissar' on my ass and have been demanding rather than paying is proof enough. Somethin' big is goin' down and I not only want my fair share of the loot, but I want in on the whole thing."
"No, you don't."
"What do you mean I d-"
"I'll pay you more, but you don't want to know what this is all about. Trust me, total worldview collapse is not a pleasant experience."
"... total whatnow?"
"Transfer the data. I'll transfer the money. I'll have my contact analyze it, and I'll send you the results. But that's it."
Ambrose pouted. "I guess that'll do..."
She nudged the appropriate holographic symbols, and Minotaurus's icon disappeared. "Not even so much as a 'thank you'..." she grumbled to herself, but her heart wasn't really in it. Her credit account was being distracting.
---
Balance had his hands full ensuring equal deaths. Humans and aliens were slaughtering each other all across the city, and for every human death, and Balance, having taken the stance that both sides must remain equal, was killing a human for every non-human, and a non-human for every human.
The god's indiscriminate killing had made him enemies everywhere, and as he paused, standing over his latest attempt to maintain equality, a growing whine caused him to look up. An aircar was barreling straight for him. The god's vision could make out the driver, a human, grimly gripping the controls, face set in a determined grimace, obviously intent on killing Balance any way he could.
The car was moving fast, and Balance had been caught unprepared. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have been killed, especially since the car was filled with explosives. A fact Balance only became aware of when it exploded in mid-air, and even several hundred feet away, the blast was still powerful enough to knock him off his feet.
As the god pulled himself back upright, a small detail nagged for his attention. Thinking back, just before the aircar exploded, he had noticed something travel quickly through the air, fast enough to appear as a thin, dull grey line, and hit the car. He puzzled over the apparent intervention, and then shrugged. Just another death to balance.
---
The members of resistance cell 314 eyed each other warily. Well, most of them eyed. A few used high-pitched frequencies to observe the positions of objects in the room, and the body stances of their companions, or pointed their infrared-detection fronds towards the others in an accusatory manner. That they had been assembled so quickly was enough to put them on edge; each was afraid the others were not up to the task, and that their own wavering courage would be discovered. In true, cell-organized resistance manner, none of them knew the identities of their superiors, what other cells were doing, or even how many other cells there were. "314" didn't necessarily indicate a number in a sequence. For all they knew, they were the only cell.
They had all traveled long and indirect paths to reach this meeting; indirect, mostly because of the sparkling forcefields which criss-crossed the city. Most of them assumed the forcefields were some kind of automated defence for the city.
They were meeting in a recently abandoned apartment, thoroughly ransacked by looters. A large table in the middle of the apartment, which had proved too heavy for any of the looters, made a nice meeting space. The twelve aliens were gathered around it.
A large mass of long, curiously textured hair at the door of the empty apartment whuffed impatiently. Its hair began to vibrate, producing a variety of buzzing noises. The other being's translators began to chatter in or at their appropriate sensory apparati. "Well, we all know why we're here. Why don't we just get started?"
A confusing tangle of limbs near a wall began gesticulating wildly.
"But we don't know what we're each supposed to do! Prism just told us to invade Administration, but not how or or... who should do what or... anything! How do we even accomplish this?"
The mass of hair began to vibrate again, but an elephantine creature stepped forward from the far end of the apartment.
"Prism said more than that. Our exact orders are to take control of Administration and take all humans we find hostage. Prism obviously trusts our competence enough to leave the details up to us. So, I suggest we all begin laying some ideas on the table."
A twisting mess of light and shadow began glinting frantically.
"Well, first we'll need to ensure we can neutralize all the security staff. How do we even do something like that? We have no weapons!"
The mass of hair somehow managed to vibrate commandingly. "Yes, we do." A large box was pushed out from beneath the hair's bulk, and pulled open by an odd brown tendril, which then retreated back beneath the mass of hair. The gathered beings moved forward, and collectively gasped... or emitted some analogous reaction. There, before them, were five universally-designed gauss guns, similar to the one Prism had used on the earlier broadcast. It didn't matter that there weren't enough for all of them. Five was all they needed.
The twelve gathered beings began communicating excitedly, more confident now, some even daring to hope their revolution would succeed.
---
Ambrose yawned, and stretched. She'd lost Vanhart five minutes ago, and aside from the disturbing evidence of an anti-human terrorist network establishing itself across the city's information network, she didn't have a whole lot to do. Minnie, the selfish bastard, wouldn't let her look into the Vanhart identity, and all her other trails had dead-ended one after the other. The only worrying aspect of her inaction was that her searches for more information about this "Julia" person had been completely fruitless. The encryption on the call was top-level, and almost proved a challenge for the master burner. But despite all her skill, she still couldn't locate the other end of the call. Not one to trouble herself by worrying about something she couldn't solve for the time being, she'd set the issue aside until more data presented itself. In other words, Ambrose Lom was extremely bored.
So when Minotaurus's icon popped up again, she could barely contain a squeal of excitement.
"'Sup Minnie, Minnow, Mmmmmmightymousey, whaddya got for me?"
"... are you all right?"
"Damnit Minnie I'm goin' stir-crazy here! You've gotta give me something!"
"I will. I can. Unfortunately not over this connection. Looks like I'm going to have to bring you in deeper than I'd like."
Ambrose stopped bouncing and sobered. Minotaurus's tone was deadly serious.
"You're going to meet with someone, in a public place, in twenty minutes. I'll send the address to your mobile unit; stick to public transportation. I'd avoid your aircycle for now."
"Sure th-wait, how do you know I have an aircy-"
The connection was cut and the horn disappeared. Ambrose got up, and then looked down. Deciding that now would probably be a good time to put on some clothes, she glanced at her wrist display to confirm the address had been received, threw on some loose pants and a rather worn-out long-sleeved shirt, grabbed a small nutrition bar from her counter and rushed out the door.
Two seconds later she came back, put on her shoes, and ran back out again, locking the door behind her.
---
Cole glared at the commando's armored back. All his attempts to push for how Girnham knew "Minotaurus" had been neatly rebuffed.
Cole was beginning to suspect the soldier was lying.
Still, they were definitely headed somewhere. And Girnham didn't seem to be that adept in the ways of deceit. If the mercenary's intents were malicious, Cole felt sure he'd be able to tell by now.
Which made the small, quiet, irregular, but consistent sounds picked up by his audio sensory fronds all the more worrisome. They'd been following the pair for some time, and despite Cole's best attempts at surreptitious recon, he'd never seen or heard or sensed anything more than the occasional soft step, creak, or tap which had been keeping pace with them. Normally indistinguishable from the regular background noise of a city in chaos, the sounds would have gone unnoticed by anyone but Cole. His acute pattern recognition abilities, gained from years of struggling through complex scientific research and concepts, combined with his finely-tuned natural suspicion, were enough to make the consistent closeness of the sounds stand out to him.
And whatever was making those sounds, there were definitely two of them. One watcher for Cole Aran, and one watcher for Phil Girnham.
The pair came out of a dusty alleyway onto a vast, elevated, deserted promenade. Hastily-made signs spouting idealistic rhetoric of varying types littered the ground, forming drifts against the occasional body - evidence of the protests-turned-riot-turned-slaughter which had been happening all over the city.
Phil led them over to a monolithic office building of some sort. As they hiked up the massive marble stairs to the large, heavily fortified security doors of the main entrance, a group of five guards, armed guards, came out to meet them.
Phil, who had been holding his rifle in a ready position during the trek, cautiously lowered the muzzle, but kept it raised enough to still be threatening. Cole just bristled.
The guards, three humans and two hard-skinned, featherless bird-like humanoids, waited for them at the top of the stairs. "Minotaurus has been expecting you, Cole Aran. If you would follow us."
Cole and Phil glanced at each other. The guards seemed to be pointedly ignoring the commando. Cole looked back at the guards, and their guns. This was the first time he'd actually seen munitions of any kind on New Shambhala, and he suspected these may be the only armed forces in the city. If such was the case...
Cole was still suspicious of this "Minotaurus" and his motives. It couldn't hurt to have Phil with him if things got ugly.
He turned his gaze from the guns and back to the human who'd spoken. "My associate will be joining me." The guard opened his mouth to reply, but something about the directness of Cole's statement stopped him. He nodded, and gestured towards the door. "This way," he said, and the other guards fell into position around Phil and Cole as the entire group entered the building.
Inside was a lavish, soaring atrium. The ceiling was roughly sixty stories above them, and sat atop a tapered point, as the atrium narrowed with height. A stairwell of disconnected, floating steps swooped downwards on either side of the oval floor. In the center, an intricate and beautiful circular pattern decorated the softly self-illuminating floor. Massive windows replaced the walls of the first level, and artificial sunlight shone down upon the levitating isles of exotic plants drifting through the atrium's upper levels.
The uniformed guards were to be found in abundance, as well. A majority of them were human, or belonged to the same avian species as Phil and Cole's escorts. A few other more alien species could be seen, wearing their equivalent of what appeared to be the standard guards' uniform. The only exception was a hulking three-legged shape, completely covered with brilliant white, glinting armor. It stood rock-still off to the side, and Cole almost mistook it for a statue until he noticed the way others were avoiding it. That, and the two massive weapon-ends sticking out from behind its back. Neither contestant could identify them.
Overall, a very strong security presence, though automated security was oddly lacking.
The guards continued moving towards the center of the atrium, and then suddenly stopped in the middle of the circular pattern. Phil and Cole looked around warily. Then the ground moved, and the pair found themselves, along with their escort, being carried towards the building's top by a levitating circular platform.
The platform moved too quickly for either contestant to easily resolve the many floors and rooms they passed, but the entire structure was obviously buzzing with activity. To what purpose, however, was the question nagging Cole.
The platform continued on through a circular hole in the ceiling of the atrium. The platform traveled through a cylindrical shaft for a few seconds before coming to rest in a circular room, the floor of which was conveniently also the platform they'd just arrived on.. The escort dispersed, and took up positions on either side of an an unassuming opaque glass door. Phil and Cole cautiously approached. It slid smoothly open. The pair stepped through.
The room was tastefully spartan. It was by no means large or looming, and was relatively well-lit. A few small bookshelves lined one wall, and a few small couches sat in the leftmost corner, near the door. The air was refreshingly chill. The only extravagance was the rear wall, which was a single window looking out at the sparkling city. The towers of New Shambhala cast long, foreboding shadows in the waning sunlight.
Standing in front of the window, silhouetted by the setting sun, was a stocky, broad-shouldered, horned figure. A deep exhalation stirred from its solid frame. "I imagine you both must have a few questions."
The window began turned opaque, and the figure turned to face the contestants, and both mentally recoiled at a sight literally out of myth. A bull's face looked back at them. Its eyes glittered with keen intelligence, and fixed them both with a stare.
"I am known as Minotaurus. And you," he gestured a thick arm towards Phil, "are Phil Girnham, former commando. You," turning his head to Cole, "are Cole Aran, former biologist, cursed by Anansi."
"How do you know all this?" Phil demanded.
"It is my business to know things. Though, I must profess I do not know why you are here, Mr. Girnham. I intended only to meet with Mr. Aran."
Cole threw Phil a suspicious look, and the commando could feel the minotaur's gaze fixing him from across the room. Phil reasoned it a bad move to answer that question. He remained silent.
Minotaurus waited quietly for a few more seconds, before moving on. "I assume we'll find out soon. Regardless, I must speak with Mr. Aran alone. If you would excuse us?" Phil nodded, and gratefully left the room. The door slid closed behind him, meeting the wall with a quiet thud.
Phil walked into the platform room a ways and then stopped, scoping out the guards still positioned around the room. He turned back to the door. "This had better be quick," he grumbled to himself. He adopted a comfortable yet ready stance and prepared to wait.
A message popped up on his helmet's HUD, startling him out of his boredom.
Well done. The girl will be waiting for you on the ground floor.
Phil blinked. Was that it?
Before he had a chance to puzzle over the confusingly short message, the door to Minotaurus's office opened soundlessly once more, and Cole stepped out. He strode into the platform room and over to his waiting companion. Phil caught a glimpse of the minotaur with his back to the door once more, looking out towards the falling twilight. The door slid shut once more, its quiet thud perfectly masking the sound of softly landing feet just inside room.
Cole approached Phil. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Phil shifted. "Well?"
Cole looked at Phil, stretching out the commando's obvious discomfort. "Well, we talked. The only thing you need to know is that Minotaurus doesn't know why you're here. I have to admit, I'm curious now, too."
Phil shifted again, a little more uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not really sure mys-" His words were cut off as an explosion blew out the door to the office. The guards pointed their weapons at the contestants and opened fire, while at the same time alarms went off all over the building. One of the guards slapped a pad on the wall behind him and the floor dropped out from beneath Cole and Phil. The pair had survived the initial barrage thanks to Phil's shields and Cole's quick hardening of his exoskeleton, but were now unprepared to handle sudden free-fall. Thinking quickly, Cole sprouted four almost invisible wings, which then turned completely invisible as they beat faster than the eye could see, emitting a jarringly low buzzing sound. Phil, not having the luxury of flight, immediately fired a magnetic grappling hook at the ceiling. The clamp landed close to the inner wall of the atrium, and Phil swung down, performing minute corrections with the grappling line's length. He crashed through a window a few floors down, hitting the floor at a perfect angle to roll to his feet and begin firing at the surprised guards. Cole, lacking a place to land and not willing to brave the gauntlet of a direct descent, touched down next to Phil. The pair turned and looked out over the atrium. Where before it was buzzing with activity, now it was overwhelmed. Guards could be seen flowing up the single, spiraling floor of which lined the atrium. The contestants moved away from the edge, and noted the how the floor slanted downwards slightly. There was only one way down. No stairs, elevators, or secondary routes. Just a single, unbroken spiral.
Phil grinned. Cole sprouted more weapons. The pair advanced.