Excision verdict, p.1
Excision Verdict, page 1
part #5 of ShadowTech Series
Copyright © 2023 T.W.Iain. All rights reserved
Cover designed by Deranged Doctor Designs www.derangeddoctordesign.com
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Before we start…
As with previous ShadowTech books, I’ll give a brief recap of the story so far.
A lot has happened since our crew of five fugitives turned up in Athelios. They succeeded in stealing the Cyastone, a relic from a long-gone race called the Ancients, but at a cost. Kaiahive, the company that runs practically everything, is even more determined to bring them on, or kill them. Our heroes have been forced apart, and have formed new alliances. And in the previous ShadowTech book they’ve all been pulled towards the company’s base of Haven’s Deep.
That book ends with Brice using the Cyastone to open a gate beneath the base, releasing an Ancient—the rumours of their return can no longer be ignored. And as the gate opens, a huge pyramid erupts from the ground.
The Ancient effortlessly defends itself against twenty company guards, taking over their lattices. It then returns through the gate, with Brice following.
But why are the Ancients back?
Kaiahive, led by Macklyn Grivas, see them as a threat to be neutralised .His people have uncovered another relic, the Caduceus, which he believes to be a weapon. When he captures Piran, Macklyn forces the tech genius to work on this project.
Piran uncovers far more than he expects (possibly to do with his lattice being unlimited, after it was restarted by a back-street tech in Athelios). Using what he pulls from the Caduceus he creates his hybrid, a block of code that can, potentially, manipulate others.
He tests this on Brice, but Brice’s screwy lattice kicks back. Then Piran uses the hybrid on Ryann, helping her escape from the company. It works!
So when Brice wants Piran’s help, near the end of Haven’s Deep, Piran again uses the hybrid. This time, he manipulates his supervisor, Casey, into flirting with a guard to cause a distraction. But it goes too far—the guard pulls a gun, Casey pulls a knife and stabs him, then collapses with an overloaded lattice.
And what of Ryann? She’s with the Collective, a shadowy organisation that wants to learn more about the Ancients, run by a woman called Annys Reid. They’re currently based in the city of Leoniki, close to Haven’s Deep, monitoring the company’s activities.
Keelin’s with the Collective too. She’s a NeoGen, the result of a company experiment to produce living weapons. She’s tall, covered in grey hide, with a snout for a face, and with retractable talons in her fingers. She’s a ferocious warrior, but underneath she’s still a young woman, and she battles with who and what she is.
At least working with the Collective gives her a chance to get back at the company. The problem is, she often has to work with Tallia.
Tallia is (or used to be) Annys’ assistant. She’s strong and tough, and can change the colour of her skin. She’s not the easiest person to get on with, but when Keelin and Tallia head towards Haven’s Deep she’s more caustic than usual. And when the Ancients’ pyramid rises from the ground (an event that almost kills both of them), Tallia’s moods grow worse.
Then there’s the Eves, the result of Kaiahive’s continuation of the NeoGen research. Keelin’s come face-to-face with one of these warriors, and the only reason she survived was because the building they were in collapsed while they fought, and when Keelin dug her way to freedom the Eve was nowhere to be seen.
There’s one more strand of the story to deal with—Deva and the Heralds. Deva is the fifth member of the original crew (along with Ryann, Keelin, Brice and Piran). She’s plucky, small, and always questions stuff. She’s fallen in with the Heralds, a quasi-religious organisation that sees the Ancients as the saviours of humanity. They’re led by Chiron Blake, and while Deva’s developed a lot of respect for the man, she’s frustrated that he won’t listen to her concerns—that the company always seem to know of their missions beforehand, implying that they have a spy within the Heralds.
There’s nothing she can do about it, because she’s put on a train with her friend Wrench, one of the Herald techs. The plan is to rendezvous with the other Heralds later, on a ship bound for Haven’s Deep (the company can monitor air-space, so flying in will be too risky).
But there are three company agents on the train (Deva calls them Creepy, Lanky and Shorty). Attempting to figure out what they know, Deva ends up in their suite, where she is attacked by Shorty. They both fall from the moving train, into the snow of the mountains. Shorty hits his head on a rock and dies. Deva is rescued then returned to the train (and it’s unclear if these rescuers were summoned to help or were in the area by chance).
Back on the train, the remaining agents (especially Creepy) close in on Deva and Wrench, forcing them to make a daring escape. But Deva’s uncovered important information—the company know about the rendezvous. With Wrench’s help she alerts Chiron. As their new boat pulls out to sea, Chiron and Deva watch the company agents swarming over their original boat.
And it’s here that Deva tells Chiron that she’s uncovered the spy, the Herald she saw talking furtively with Lanky—none other than Chiron’s second-in-command, Lise.
So the stage is set. Deva’s with the Heralds, in the sea not far from Haven’s Deep. Ryann and Keelin are with the Collective, based in the nearby city of Leoniki. Piran is a prisoner within Haven’s Deep, in a deep depression because of what he’s done to Casey. And Brice has followed the Ancient through the gate.
Read on to uncover what happens next…
Brice
There was a moment, as Brice stepped through the gate, when everything changed. Darkness smothered him, yet at the same time, light blinded him. When he lowered his boot it came down on a smooth floor, not the rock of the cavern, and it felt like that single step had taken him far away from Haven’s Deep. His stomach tightened. His skin stretched. It felt like he was being squeezed.
With one boot through the gate, Brice lifted his rear leg. It felt both heavy and light—flew forwards, but his thigh ached from the effort, and it took an age for the boot to appear, to reach past its counterpart on the end of his other leg.
He took another two steps, and the squeezing sensation disappeared.
Brice stood in a corridor. It was wide enough for five to walk in comfort, the ceiling way above his head. The walls curved where they met the floor and ceiling, giving the illusion that the corridor had been hollowed out. Light filled the space, but Brice couldn’t see the source.
Behind him, the darkness he’d stepped through rippled. It pulled grey in from the edges, sealing the gate in a matter of seconds. The grey darkened to black, and the surface shimmered with colours Brice could only catch in the corners of his vision.
And those shimmers buzzed, a static that hovered on the edge of his hearing, constant yet indistinct, impossible to focus on.
Brice shrugged—something else he didn’t understand.
The Ancient was two steps ahead, and Brice jogged to catch up. They walked for what felt like five minutes but could’ve been longer. The air was stale—no, sterile. There were no sounds and no aromas.
The Ancient stopped. A section of the wall to the left opened—a doorway, but Brice swore there had been nothing there a heartbeat before. The Ancient waved an arm for Brice to enter, and so he did.
He entered a small room. The walls were off-white, a clinical shade of grey. There was an off-white sofa to the right. Brice couldn’t grasp the size—could’ve been a snug two-seater, could’ve been large enough for four or five.
There were no windows. Light fell from the whole ceiling. The flooring was grey tiling.
“Wait,” the Ancient said, with that strange not-quite-in-sync mouth thing, and Brice realised he hadn’t noticed the figure follow him into the room.
The being still wore its robe, but had the hood pulled back now, revealing that strangely unattractive face. Like the features didn’t quite work out. The eyes were deep blue, and wide, but too wide, and they didn’t blink enough. The nose seemed small and squashed in from the front, but when the Ancient turned the nose was a sharp beak.
Brice’s eyes watered, a throbbing pulsing behind them.
“We will return,” the Ancient told him before leaving the room.
When the door clicked closed Brice could no longer see it.
He frowned. He stepped forward and ran his hand across the wall. The surface was smooth. If the door was a part of this wall, the join was so tight that it let through nothing, was imperceptible.
“Tech,” Brice told himself.
He walked the three paces to the sofa. Up close it seemed to be a large two-seater, could fit three close friends. The cushions were plump and looked firm.
He sat. The cushions folded around him, gave off a vaguely floral scent—not enough to be a stink, but a hint of outside.
A hint of what he didn’t have.
And where the hell was he anyway?
“Underground. Didn’t go up or down.”
So this had to be under Haven’s Deep, or out under the forest, in that huge network of tunnels that riddled the area.
But the company had scanned, back when they said the pla ce was a mining operation. So why hadn’t they uncovered this place?
That wasn’t the only question. Not by a long stretch. How big was this place? Was the Ancient the only one down here, or were there others? And what did they plan to do with Brice?
“No way to know,” he muttered, letting his head fall back, letting his eyes close. If it hadn’t been for all those bloody questions, he reckoned he could sleep for a week.
But he concentrated. He pushed with his lattice, focusing on the room.
It was like trying to see underwater. It was like trying to hear through white noise with bunged-up ears.
He caught a trace. It wasn’t like any he’d sensed before, and when he tried to detect a lattice the trace grew slippery, faded away.
Brice was no expert, but he reckoned even Ryann would have trouble reading this trace. When he focused too hard it split, and instead of being one thing it became many, swirling around him.
Was that from the Ancient? Brice assumed so. He guessed they didn’t have lattices, and they weren’t human either. So it made sense that their trace would be so unfamiliar.
“Not like there’s anything here you do understand, is there?”
He sighed. That floral scent drifted over him, but there was a sweeter edge to it now. Brice breathed in. It reminded him of chocolate, only a refined version, the fancy stuff you got in those cafes that would never let someone like him in.
He turned his head, burying his nose in the cushion. That only had the floral smell. So the sweetness came from elsewhere.
Brice wanted to open his eyes and look around, but his head lolled against the cushion, pulling his body. He shuffled until he lay on the sofa, boots dangling over one arm-rest, head against the other. Yeah, definitely comfortable. And why not have a rest? The Ancient would be back, and then Brice could learn more.
Until then, he’d rest.
He breathed deep, pulling in that sweetness, and kept his eyes closed.
Piran
Piran sat in Macklyn’s office again. It no longer bothered him like it used to, even though the desk was too large and the temperature always a few degrees too warm.
What did bother him was the man sitting across the desk. The main man, the one who controlled Haven’s Deep, was at the top of deep Kaiahive. The man who could have Piran killed in a heartbeat.
Macklyn was in his shirt-sleeves, his jacket hanging over the back of his fancy chair. He leaned forward, one finger stabbing at Piran. “You’re a mess,” he said.
Piran swallowed and nodded. “Things on my mind.”
Macklyn did that questioning stare, the one that always made Piran shuffle. “Things on your mind,” the man repeated, stressing each word. “It hasn’t stopped you scurrying around Haven’s Deep, though. It hasn’t prevented you from rummaging through the system.”
Piran’s mouth twitched. But the man didn’t know everything, right? Piran’s defences were strong. Macklyn had nothing but suspicions.
“And the situation hasn’t encouraged you to work harder?” Macklyn asked.
“Situation?”
“Do I have to spell it out to you? Your foolhardy companion opened the gate, and released the Ancients. And then, the idiot goes through the gate himself. And you know what that means, don’t you?”
Piran shrugged. What did any of this mean?
Macklyn’s nostrils flared as he glared at Piran. “It means that the gate is once more sealed. It means we can’t follow.”
The man sat back. “I need information, Mister Remis. Despite your slovenly appearance and generally uncouth demeanour, you’re the best tech I have.”
That almost pulled Piran’s mouth into a smile. Of course he was the best. None of the other techs had even got to grips with the old doofus code yet.
“But being the best doesn’t mean you can sit back and wait for others to catch up,” Macklyn said. “You’re nothing but a tool to me. A tool sitting at the back of a storage bin is worthless. A tool is only of value if it is put to work.” The man narrowed his eyes. “You understand me?”
Piran winced. His face itched, and he tried to recall when he’d last had a shave. He brushed his cheek, and noticed how discoloured his sleeve was. Should’ve been white, but it was grey and smeared.
“Sorry,” he managed to say. “Know I should try harder. Worried, is all. About Casey.”
He coughed and turned away, his stomach clenching.
“She’s receiving all the care she requires. So snap out of this!”
“Yeah. Sorry. I…I’ll try.” Piran looked up at the man, at that smooth chin and hard stare. “Haven’t heard anything, have you?
Macklyn scowled. “As the medi-logs show,” and he said that with a glare, daring Piran to deny he’d been monitoring, “she’s stable but unresponsive. Her condition remains a mystery to both medics and lattice techs.”
The glare continued to push into Piran. He rubbed his neck, shuffled in his seat. “Might have something to do with the Ancients,” he said. “When…when the gate opened, it might’ve caused a surge, hit Casey’s lattice hard or something.”
Macklyn narrowed his eyes. “And you believe that’s a likely explanation?”
“Dunno. Still too much we don’t know about them, right? And…and Brice’s lattice went all screwy, and that was from a lightning strike, wasn’t it? Connected to a Proteus’ sensor when it hit the craft, and it fried his lattice. Never the same after that, but none of the techs could figure out exactly what was up with it.”
Piran swallowed again, knew he was letting his mouth run on. But Macklyn’s gaze softened. Only looked like he wanted to punch Piran, not kill him.
“And even in your current state, there’s hope,” the man said. “A connection between Miss Romberg’s situation and the Ancients, through the connection between our tech and theirs. I’m sure the correlation isn’t as straightforward as you’re making out, though.” And he gave that look, turned the sentence into a question.
“Yeah,” Piran said, and stifled a cough. Couldn’t the man have offered him a glass of water or something? “Could be. Still…still lots we don’t know.”
“Something of an understatement. Our knowledge of the Ancients, and especially their technology, is sorely lacking. Which puts us at a distinct disadvantage.”
He paused.
Piran nodded.
Macklyn raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Piran said. “At a disadvantage. Need to know more. Knowledge as a weapon, kind of thing.”
“That almost sounds like something I’d say, Mister Remis.”
“Shows I listen, right?”
“Don’t get cocky. I need results, not back-chat. So tell me, what do I want from you?”
Piran shuffled in the seat. He glanced to the corner of the office, where he knew the hidden sensor sat, and wondered if anyone was monitoring this meeting. Probably not. But Macklyn would be recording, wouldn’t he? Most likely play it back later, watch for clues to where Piran had been lying.
But he hadn’t been lying. Not properly. Might not give everything in his answers, but that was different, right? That was…semantics? Was that the word? It was the kind of stuff Macklyn did all the time. Politics, and all that.
“Well?”
Piran coughed. He tried to meet Macklyn’s gaze, felt his eyes water. “You want me to work harder. You need to know everything you can about the Ancients. And none of the other techs have a clue, do they? I mean, they couldn’t figure even a fraction of the code from the doofus. Don’t even reckon they can get a sense of the gate, can they?”
That slipped out without thinking—it was only when Macklyn’s head tilted that Piran realised what he’d said.
He needed Casey here. She knew how to talk to Macklyn. And if—when—Piran said too much, she always knew how to cover it up, turn it into something innocent.
“I mean,” he continued, pilling his collar away from his neck, “all the tech’s connected, right? Get a lattice enhanced for tracking, you can sense other lattices close by. Lattices pick up on building systems all the time. Same the other way round, too—buildings pick up on lattices. All this Ancient tech works in similar ways, I reckon. I mean, there’s the way that stone thing called to Brice, right? And the gate, it’s got this kind of essence.” Piran swallowed. “Hard to put into words though.”
