Guardian Monsters Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Why Strategic Withdrawals Are Not Military Strategy

“You’re worth over three million credits alive right now,” Alison said as they walked away from the building. “You’re lucky.”
     “Lucky?”
     “Any less, and I would have taken you in. I had to leave my home.”
     “It’s a small apartment in the old town.”
     “And it’s important. There is nothing more important than a place to call your own if you never had one before.”
     Stephen nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.” He grinned. “I’ll let you know when I have one. But I never thought you’d be the kind to let yourself be possessed.”
     “Possessed?”
     “To become possessed, own possessions. Things aren’t important, people are.”
     “People are things. We just have the virus of consciousness to delude ourselves otherwise.” Alison looked at the building, then pulled her gaze away, teeth clenched. “South. Keeping out of main thoroughfares. We go underground.”
     Stephen blinked. “The tube system is --”
     “The old underground. The shit streams.”
     “The -. Wait. You mean sewers?”
     Alison shrugged. “Roads for crap, from long ago. Not used for much now, except as shelter for transients. We go there.”
     (Good. They’re lonely.)
     She looked down at Olen. “Hmm?”
     “Sorry. The streets down there. They’re lonely.”
     “They can join the club with the human race, then. Let’s go. No splitting up. Anyone follows, kill them.”

The sewage entrance was covered over and old, but Stephen found it without too much trouble. “Getting older maps of the city was useful,” he said, frowning into the darkness. “Didn’t even think to get maps of the sewers, and I doubt they’d be all that reliable with buildings having been built down and the tube system going through them.”
     “Good. If we don’t know, whoever is following us won’t either.” Alison went down the ladder. “I trust you can see in the dark?” she called back up.
     Stephen nodded. “Easily. Olen?”
     “I see the same everywhere,” he said quietly. “Auras don’t change if it’s warm or not.”
     “Useful.” Stephen wanted until Olen was down and followed, looking around as he reached the bottom. Water, walls, and a metal railing that was some primitive fencing field, though a quick check showed the force field was inactive so he ignored it and walked quickly. It was damp and smelled mildly unpleasant, like wet fur that had been lightly scorched.
     Alison had drawn a weapon and was walking in front, pacing down the narrow walkway. “Tunnel splits off ahead of us. Options?”
     “Wherever it’s loneliest,” Stephen said. “I’m betting they kept these around for the same reason the old town was preserved initially: tourism. We should be able to find some places with maps to help us.”
     “We go right then,” Olen said. “It needs more, there.”
     Alison headed to the right, walking quickly through the darkness. They talked a little and gradually all fell silent, their only companions sluggish water and the dark. Olen’s directions became the only noises said from their footfalls as they walked. Stephen wondered how long they’d keep going when Olen abruptly stopped and announced he needed a break, sounding tired.
     A ball of light flared as Alison held up a small round ball with a hole through the middle. The light shone around them a good twenty feet and them dissipated.
     “What’s that for?” Stephen asked.
     “Light.”
     “I guessed that much,” he said dryly. “What if it’s seen?”
     “Won’t be. The light is only visible to us, limited radius in any event just to be on the safe side. It’s set to ambient radiation levels.”
     Stephen studied the glow. “I hope everyone down here has cancer-resistant traits, then. Why does it look like wood?”
     “Wood?”
     “You know, on trees? Like the floor in your place.”
     “Oh, that. I forgot it was called that. No idea. Probably to cause people to ask stupid questions like yours, at which point I throw it at them.”
     “So it’s a bomb?”
     “The hole through it stores some of the radiation. It’s environmentally friendly. Well, then it’s converted into plasma or something. I never did get the details. Just really hot, nasty, and generally fatal.”
     “Cute use for something that looks like an ornament to wear.”
     “Probably a disguise for it. I bought it off a bounty hunter who was retiring to join the police. Never had cause to use it as a weapon, since it’s just a one-shot deal.” She sighed. “I wish it wasn’t. Melting people to slag is one of the more satisfying ways to make sure they remain dead.”
     Stephen shook his head, sitting down on the cement, trying to ignore the fact that it didn’t berate him. “Okay. How close are we?”
     “I don’t know,” Olen said. “I’m running into problems.”
     “What kind?” Alison said.
     “Other freaks, living down here. They keep confusing things. I don’t think they mean to, but it’s like a lot of noise drowning out other noises.”
     “Could be deliberate. Hopefully not.”
     “There’s something else. The sewers used to have lots of animals in them. They don’t anymore,” Stephen said. “With luck, they were eaten people.”
     “And without it something will try and eat us. Well, it beats walking.” Alison looked at Olen. “Ready?”
     He nodded, standing. The light went out and they continued to walk, Stephen passing time by poking through the downloaded memories to assimilate them, since he was certain Alison would notice any threats.
     The sound of feel stumbling in front of him drew him back into real world. An hour had passed or so, and Olen was wheezing for breath.
     “I think we should stop now,” Stephen said quietly.
     “Hmm?” Alison turned back.
     “Some of us aren’t machines,” he said dryly.
     “Developing calluses?” she returned in the same tone.
     “Pretty much. Plus, we should eat. But no light, to be on the safe side.”
     “Fine. Olen?”
     “I wouldn’t mind,” he said.
     “Okay. You two rest. I’m going to look ahead. Relax.”
     Olen waited a few minutes, eating his energy bar, then looked up. “Thank you.”
     “You could have just said you needed to rest you know.”
     “She might have left me behind.”
     Stephen opened his mouth, then thought about it. “She might not have.”
     “She would, if I was slowing you both down.”
     Stephen finished his bar. “How much of a rest do you need?”
     “I don’t know. I wasn’t meant to run or go far. I’m tired,” he said no whine in his voice but merely bald fact.
     “Okay. How long can you go before you need to rest again if we start when she comes back?”
     “Maybe an hour?”
     “That’s all?”
     “I’m sorry.”
     “Huh. I’ll think of something. Rest a bit. Sleep.”
     “Can’t. Keeping them away from here.”:
     “Who?”
     “Freaks looking for you. The Whispering. I can’t do it when I’m sleeping unless you and she are as well.”
     “Cute. Well, rest anyway.”
     Alison came back ten minutes later. “Seems clear. No life that I saw.” She ate a bar quickly. “Ready?”
     Stephen nodded and stood. Olen refused his offered hand and stood on his own. In the darkness it was hard to tell but he sounded better at least.
     (Sorry. I don’t like getting into auras. Touching? I can’t see someone if I’m that close. It’s confusing.)
     Stephen nodded, even though it couldn’t be seen. “Let’s go.”
     Half an hour later saw them in the decrepit side tunnels, wandering through narrow tunnels that seemed to loop back upon each other like Möbius strips gone mad but somehow took them further west with each twist and turn. The river gurgled below them and Stephen moved closer to it slowly, casually, finally finding a place where the protective fence was broken.
     The yelp wasn’t feigned as the fall was further than he thought. he landed in thick, sludgy water that clung to him and invaded his pores with a small reminiscent of a dead man bathed in month-old urine. He coughed, standing up slowly, but nothing living in the water accosted him.
     “Stephen?”
     “I’m alive. Just twisted my ankle,” he said, doing so.
     “The heal it.”
     “Won’t. Ran out of nanites, I think. They do need to rejuvenate.”
     “Shit.” He could almost hear Alison debating leaving him. “Jump up, I’ll haul you up.”
     He did so, scrambling back up onto the walkway and wincing as he tried to stand.
     Alison looked at his foot, swore, then pulled her right eye out of its socket. The eye nestled in her hand, then flew ahead of them, returning a few moments later. “Nothing ahead of it, a good spot to rest. Get there. I’ll make sure no one is following. Five hours. Heal it or amputate,” she snapped, walking back the way they’d come.
     Stephen swore and limped his way through two more tunnels until he and Olen arrived at a wider one with an access hatch to the surface long ago sealed over, but room enough to rest and stretch the legs.
     (You didn’t have to do that.)
     “You need a rest. I’ll heal it later.” Stephen sat down, Olen sitting close by and quickly, his breath coming weakly. “You shouldn’t have tried to hide getting exhausted.”
     “She’d have noticed.”
     “She’s a bit preoccupied right now. We both are. Will five hours be a long enough rest?”
     “I don’t know,” Olen said softly.
     “Great. Well, I’m going to sleep. Yell if anyone comes.”
     Olen waited until he was sure Stephen was asleep and let himself relax, drifting into a waking dream.
     The Whispering was strong, down here. Hard and jagged, voices and feelings rushing though the air that wasn’t air. Olen concentrated, willing them to remain hidden, and felt a small but significant portion of his energy drain away. He wasn’t draining himself physically yet, but he was sure he would be doing so soon, and he knew he didn’t have energy to spare.
     He reached out, in a way that wasn’t reaching but easier to him than breathing some of the time -- definitely today, for example. The world went away, in the way that wasn’t seizures since he could still feel it, and he looked, found, and said: (Hello.)
     <?!>
     (Hi. Nice to meet you. I could use some help.)
     <Human?>
     (I think so. AI?)
     <What else would I be?> the other demanded, stung for a fraction of a moment, amused for another fraction, then just curious.
     (You could be a really good ghost of a freak?)
     <I’m not.>
     (‘kay. Do you want to help me?)
     <Why?>
     (Amusement?)
     <That would scarcely last a second, as even you reckon time in this state. You are not one of us.>
     (Oh. What do you want?) Olen sent, a trifle desperately.
     <Something new,> the AI said slowly. <Something unique.>
     (Sex with a sink?)
      <Pardon? You would have me demean myself with -- ah. I see. Interesting offer. What do you need in return, human?>
     (Energy. Tired.)
     Another presence moved into his, assessing it at a level he couldn’t block and barely grasp. <This may damage you.>
     (How bad?)
     <It will break open doors half open. You have dreamed of this, I believe the state is called?)
     (I have?)
     <Very well.> Silence. <Accepted. Where is this sink?>
     Olen sent the AI the location of the sink and slipped back into the waking world, tired but not drained. The Whispering had noticed something, but he blocked the dragon with ease and stood up, listening for thoughts.
     “You awake there?”
     He blinked, then nodded to Stephen. “How long was I away?”
     “Four hours, give or take. I slept a bit of it. Leg healed. You look better, at least.”
     “I feel okay. Found a source for hiding, not sure how long it will last.”
     “A source?”
     “Energy. An AI offered it, in exchange for sex with the sink.”
     Silence. “You know,” Stephen said carefully, “I used to think it was funny. But this sink is getting more sex this week than me. That’s just wrong.”
     “It is?”
     “Definitely.”
     “But it offered the sex thing to you.”
     “I’d rather not remember that. Where’s Alison?”
     A scream of pain the way them came answered him, a high sharp wail that gurgled off into silence.
     “Never mind.” Olen grabbed the bag containing his stuff and the one containing Olen’s and strapped it to his back once they’d melded into one bag.
     “You up for running?”
     “Not long.”
     Stephen frowned the nodded and took off the bag, having Olen sit on it. The sound of weapons came closer, energy and slug-throwers playing a lethal game of tag. “Okay, stay on it. I’ll settle you on my back, and put your arms around my neck. Got it?”
     They managed it on the second try. “Okay.” Stephen paused to make two knives. “Hold on and don’t let you. If you can scream in their heads to distract them, do it.” He sprinted towards the gunfire.
     (Two turns away) Olen sent quickly after two minutes. Stephen slowed, waiting. The area was lit in front of him by lights and Alison came around the corner backwards, firing. Her right arm was limp but she was holding a pistol in the left and firing. 
    “Back up 10 paces,” Stephen snapped crispy. Then hug the floor.”
     Alison said nothing in reply, firing off another salvo and taking the steps, then diving to the floor.
     Five men came and Stephen threw the first knife, then the second angled to hit the next turn. They were wearing black spiked body armour, but enough monofilament blades can break any generic body armour, and Stephen hadn’t set a maximum for them.
     “Up. Run!” he yelled, turning and sprinting ahead.
     Alison stood, stared, then followed, catching up and taking the lead, following instructions from Olen as they ran and the sounds of screaming faded behind them to be replaced by blades shattering stone.
     After ten minutes Stephen’s legs began to ache slightly. He ignored them, picking up the pace until the blades were silent behind them, the nanites spent. Alison slowed as he did, stopping at a defensible side tunnel and catching her breath. “Nice trick.”     “Took a bit.”
     “I notice the leg is fine.”
     “The rest was good,” Stephen said blandly.
     Alison gave Olen a long look, then just nodded. “There were twelve of them initially. I imagine the last seven are dead. We need to find a place to hide from or make a stand at, and we need to do it fast.”
     “How’s the arm?”
     “Fine,” she said curtly. “One of them got lucky.”
     Stephen nodded. “How close are we, Olen?”
     (No idea, but there are presences in the way. Maybe people, maybe not. I can’t tel for sure without them finding us.)
     “Hmm. How often can you make a blade like that?” Alison snapped.
     “It tires me each time I make one, so no idea before I can’t. Probably when I pass out.”
     “Pity. Okay.” She fumbled for a gun at her left side and tosses it to him. “Sonic pistol. Decent range. Set to lethal.” She left a longer gun in her left hand and smiled. “I’ll use the slugthrower. Shoot first, don’t ask questions.”
     Stephen hesitated, the nodded.
     To his surprise, Alison’s sudden smile was warm and understanding. “Keep the shock away until later. Then deal with the fact that you murdered several people. Just don’t fall apart on us now. Got it?” He nodded. “Good. Now, let’s move.”
     They ran again, jogging side by side as they passed tunnel after tunnel, searching for maps only to have something to look for because they both know it would only be a means, and not an end. Looking for something they wouldn’t know until they found it but never finding it they two of them matches paces and breathing, pacing through the darkness.
     (Two! Ahead of us. Just appeared.)
     Stephen swore, sprinting around the corner and firing the gun, catching the first one through the chest. The second fired, the energy beam grazing his leg as he leapt aside. Alison leapt forward, firing a quick burst and blowing the man’s head off.
     “Good warning,” she said. “Teleportation is always disorienting for a bit I’ve been told. Nice to know it was good advice. Any more people to kill?”
     “Not right now,” Olen said.
     “We need a new plan.”
     She looked at Stephen. “They come. We kill them.”
     “A different one, then. We can’t keep getting lucky. Sooner or later they’ll just sacrifice enough people to surrounded us and just gas the entire area or something.”
     “Fine. You have any ideas?”
     Stephen shook his head. “But we need help. Or at least I do. You can get out of this.
Both of you.”
     “I have been chased. Shot at. And shot.” Alison glared at him. “No one else is getting the reward but me, and I don’t care how many of them we have to kill. Is that understood?”
     “Very much so. Okay. Where, then?”
     “My place. I’ll need to get Jack to call in some favours and get us some real weapons and stim packs and military-grade nanites. We’ll need to visit a genedoc for stuff, but it can’t be helped. I want to know what kind of security they have at my place, and how committed the government really is to bringing you in.”
     “How do you plan to find that out?”
     “I figure if we kill enough of them it won’t be profitable to bother us anymore.”
     “That - makes sense.”
     “You don’t have to sound quite so surprised.”
     Stephen grinned. “I generally prefer less permanent solutions.”
     “Most of them likely paid for replication, so it’s not like they won’t come back. Kind of disappointing, but at least they’ll be afraid of me.”
     “They should be.”
     She smirked. “You didn’t have to sound that passionate.” The smile vanished. “Olen, lead us back. We’ll try and avoid killing people or encountering any, if possible. Which way?”
     (Left first. What you wanted might be hard. The interference is getting worse.)
     “Deal with it,” she snapped, heading down the tunnel.
     Stephen snorted and followed, jogging along behind her and making more daggers as he did so, but with a limited copy function.

They reached an exit near the apartment seven hours later. Olen was listless and barely keeping his arms around Stephen’s neck, slurring something about doors when he made any sense at all.
     Alison frowned at the egress, then looked at Olen. “Well?”
     He didn’t even reply, so Stephen changed the pack back to a regular one and set him down on the ground where he promptly fell over bonelessly.
     “Great. he had to burn out this close. Okay. Carry him, keep an arm free for those knives. We’re going up,” she snapped, suiting actions to words.
     The street was a block from the apartment and ominously silent. Stephen pulled Olen up to the street and looked around. “This is bad?”
     “Can’t be good,” Alison said quietly, her slugthrower in her good hand.
     (Feels wrong. Something is wrong. Bad.) Olen shuddered, pulling himself together with an effort. (Sorry. Sorry. Just - feeling. Going back is bad. Need to run.)
     “Where?” Stephen said, controlling himself with an effort.
     Olen looked up, his eyes wide and white. (Far away,) he managed weakly.
     “Great.” He looked at Alison. “Plan?”
     “We walk down the road. We see the place. We go in, or we don’t”
     “And if we don’t?”
     “Then I find out who is behind this capture and tear them apart,” she said with a fierceness that surprised even herself. Olen whimpered a little but didn’t react otherwise.
     “Okay,” Stephen said carefully. “Brazen it is.”
     Alison looked at Olen. “Want me to carry him for a bit?”
     Olen’s eyes shaded to orange and blue and he shook his head, scared.
     Stephen didn’t dare look at Alison for fear of what he might see in her eyes. He picked up Olen and walked towards the apartment. She followed a few moments later without a word.