Tides of Hysteria Read online

  A shadow swept across them, and from above descended an authority flight-drone. Its down-draft bristled Nuke’s face. “I see you,” boomed a loudspeaker. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, but I see you. Back-up is on its way.”

  Rifles aimed upwards and began to fire, causing the vehicle to sway and dodge through the air, sparks of ricocheting bullets exploding like fireworks. Nuke took a retreating step, along with Uldous, while those around were distracted or else charging into the open expanse of previously restricted enemy territory.

  “You can run, but we’ll find you,” boomed the speaker once more.

  Deke

  It made no sense. It was just like the time he shot Xi Chen and the escaping vehicle had disappeared from his viewscreen, and yet… there it had been in plain sight right outside his window. It was the same now. Scores of protestors had broken through the perimeter, helped by a large number of traitors; he’d watched from above as they turned and shot their comrades in cold blood. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, too quick for him to be able to do anything about it. And yet… he checked the viewscreen and all was normal. Not one dead body. Death had been thwarted by technology; only reality made it real. He looked out the window again and saw the perimeter open and the terrorists piling through. He sent a message back to headquarters and then descended, opening a channel to those who did not deserve his mercy. And yet he showed it.

  He ascended now, to avoid the worst of their gunfire and to await backup. His vehicle shimmered in the dull sunlight of the tower windows to left and right, in infinitum. The steering wheel felt steady in his grip, despite the pings of the occasional bullet on the chassis felt through his fingertips. Holo-displays pinpointed the local support, both air and ground approaching, converging red dots blinking. He shook his head. Did they have an informer? He knew from Joceline that the elite were – right now – calling themselves to order. Did the terrorists know this and attempt to take advantage by attacking while the authority were distracted? If so, they were not so well informed to know that the borders had been reinforced in preparation for a possible attack on this side, should those above have chosen to do so.

  He had no choice but to lean his head against the safety of the side-window to look down upon the mayhem. In contrast to the viewscreen, he saw a crowd spilling through and dispersing, with only a few standing back and firing up towards him. He was out of range of any firebomb, he made sure of that.

  Hold on.

  He squinted. Why were two bodies going in the opposite direction? He pushed forward on the steering wheel and the mechanics of the flight-drone tilted the nose forward, pushing it onwards and towards the fleeing pair. Two… men… one of which looked particularly large and in riot gear. Surely the particular kind of man who would thrive in such a battle that was to come. The other looked older, beard unkempt, hair tufting out of a helmet of sorts. Why were they running?

  “J-1 to Deke.”

  “Deke here.”

  “We have a situation here.”

  He switched the holo to video but it returned a blank screen. “Hello? J-1?”

  Silence.

  “Hello? What kind of situation?” He rolled his tongue around his mouth, waiting for a response, sucking on his own saliva. “J-1. Come in please.” Sighing, he banked the flight-drone up towards the sky, narrowly avoiding an incoming drone. He noticed the unfurling turret even as it shot past his windscreen. The municipal crew would be hauling their dead bodies from the street come dusk.

  Above the towers he banked out of the sunlight and towards Joceline’s blimp. Above, he noticed, was a solid circular shadow hovering over the ring; the order location, no doubt. In circumference around the ring were turret drones, and on the ring itself stood large cannons that had been installed in the last year.

  Joceline’s blimp hung as normal, suspended in mid-air with its dividing colours. After Slay’s betrayal and his injury, he’d contacted Joceline and she’d received him with open arms, happy to have him on staff. Since then, he’d worked somewhat undercover, as an agent to thwart those who would do harm to the authority, though unfortunately his hands had been unduly tied. They’d been too lenient with the terrorists. Allowed them too much room to breathe and expand, all while giving them the publicity to expound their ideas. Whatever happened to control and fear? They were children and did not know what was best for themselves. Well, soon they would be put to the sword.

  He brought the flight-drone in to the blimp’s landing pad and set it down with a jolt, nestling it among a dozen others. Stepping out, he noticed a pair of legs strewn beneath a neighbouring vehicle and drew his weapon. It had been a while since this kind of alert was needed, and he hoped fleetingly that he hadn’t fallen to complacency. The blimp swayed mildly beneath his feet. The air was still and slightly odorous of spent biofuel, but also gunpowder.

  He crossed the helipad towards the handrails heading down, readied to fire. He daren’t call ahead just in case it alerted his presence in the void of any other communication.

  Elissa

  Now that the initial guards had been dealt with, using Tasers, it was surprisingly like the time she infiltrated Quintessa’s tower, only instead of ascension, it was descent on their minds. Twisting down stairwells that turned back on each other, with the exterior fiberglass becoming more and more out of reach. Light gleamed through it opaque, not dissimilar to the privacy shading of the tower windows. Every two flights they arrived at a new floor with an entrance door. This blimp had been meant to house apartments before Joceline had commandeered and repurposed it. The walls of the apartments stretched out towards the side, where they were treated with stunning views across the city.

  “They’re occupied,” said Slay. “They must be: all those vehicles parked on top.”

  “Friends of hers, perhaps. You think they’re on silent too?”

  “The whole blimp will be on silent.”

  She felt a little safer with Slay by her side; of the rescues they had done, Slay had turned into one of the most beneficial, both for her knowledge and her fortitude. And friendship. That she knew how to aim and shoot was a bonus, even if they were just firing jolts of electricity.

  Adrenaline made light work of the descent, despite her heavy boots and thick jacket. Again she was reminded of Quintessa, and sneaking in to find Calix. Only that time she’d had no help. The stakes were so much higher now, though – if a guard saw her she would be dead.

  It wasn’t quite so pretty, either. No artwork on the walls or the scent of perfume wafting down the halls. No music. No singing. No matronly consternation. “Kinda drab for an elite.”

  “Maybe she learned her lesson from last time.” Slay slowed as they neared the lowest floor, one careful foot over the other as she lead the way, Taser aimed ahead.

  Elissa followed two, three steps behind, footfalls landing with a hollow silence thanks to the boots’ rubber. Their arrival shouldn’t be noticeable.

  There were two doors, and it was the one on the left that caught their attention. It had a glass front and through it they could see the control room. They stepped to either side of the door and Slay peered quickly inside, pulling her head back after barely a second.

  “Two pilots, by the look of it. And a third on his back on the floor beneath the console. Toolbox open beside him.”

  “Try and repair all they like, they won’t get far.”

  “Is it locked?”

  Elissa almost opened her mouth and reached for the door handle, completely forgetting about their hidden counterpart. “Affirmative,” said a robotic female voice. Strange. Why didn’t she just use her own voice? Now is not the time for joking around.

  “Thanks, Ann.” Slay ducked from the door and approached the second one.

  The door clicked. “You’re welcome,” confirmed the same voice.

  “Ready?”

  Elissa sidled up on her shoulder. “Good to go.”

  Slay reached out and pushed – no handles on these
doors – and it swung inwards. Daylight startled Elissa by slicing out into the lobby – she hadn’t realised how dark it had become. On its tail dwindled a sweet melody of strings, a falsetto of fingers. As they pushed further, a long shadow lay a welcome carpet for them, cast by a tall, golden harp sat against the frame of one, long window. At the harp sat Joceline, those fingers travelling the strings, her eyes closed, her red hair in waves and reaching her lower back. Her bare feet arched up to bare calves poised in muscular definition. Her bare shoulders swayed elegantly, her hair swaying like the vines in the Agridome with the ventilation active. They neared, not a squeak from their boots on the polished wooden boards, and Elissa thought they could have come in screaming and Joceline would still not have registered their presence, such was her playing. From the side, she looked engrossed, in the way Elissa could get whenever she tinkered and played with her hoverbike.

  She has no idea what’s going on. Annora must have controlled all her communication.

  Slay pointed and made a circling motion with her finger, approaching from the near side. Elissa approached from the other. The room was quite large, with low ceilings; everything she owned may have fitted inside it, from a plush looking bed at the far end, to an unused kitchen area and a lounge with built-in seating beneath the floor level, that congregated around a projector. The only evidence of a door no doubt lead to the bathroom near the kitchen area.

  The music somehow became more beautiful the nearer she got. She could practically feel the strings vibrating, and the speed at which Joceline’s fingers moved was mesmerising. She almost sighed when Slay nudged the top of her arm with the end of her Taser.

  Joceline jumped and yelped. Before she could scream out, Elissa pressed her hand to her mouth and whispered in her ear. “Be quiet, and you won’t be hurt.” She sat surprisingly still for someone in peril. “Okay?”

  There was the smallest of nodding movements.

  “Okay. I’m going to remove my hand.”

  As she backed away, Joceline said; “Was my music so bad, you wouldn’t let me finish?”

  “Quiet, now,” said Slay.

  Joceline turned her head, finally curious. “My, my. Catherine Slay. There you are. Don’t you look alive?”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “It’s what you didn’t do. It’s what you’re a part of.”

  “No, no… don’t pool me in with those sycophants up there. Why do you think I came back to the city? I can’t stand them!”

  “Quiet,” Elissa said. “Are you alone?”

  Joceline turned her head to look at her second captor. “And who are you? No matter, I suppose. I’ll find out soon enough. Can I put some clothes on while you decide what to do next?”

  “Quickly,” said Slay.

  “And what’s the occasion?” Joceline stood. “Formal wear? Casual?”

  Elissa felt like she was stalling. Is there anyone else here? Annora would have told them if so, right? She grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from the harp.

  “Where’s your manners, lady?” said Joceline, shrugging her off. “That’ll leave a bruise.”

  “I don’t care about your bruises. Get to your wardrobe and put on some clothes.”

  Joceline raised her nose, pouting. “I won’t be rushed. Incidentally, Catherine. Did you know that your old colleague has not stopped looking for you? Where have you been? To avoid him all this time? The city is only so big.”

  “He works for you now, I hear,” responded Slay. “I guess he’s not quite the detective he thought he was. You know I carried him, right?”

  Joceline drew open a sliding door and laughed. “He’ll get a laugh out of that. You know, these walls are incredibly thin. One shout, and he’ll be right down. He’s just above us.” She pulled out a thick, dark, woollen dress and some underwear from a shelf. Dressing, she continued with a sigh; “I guess after the last time I felt safer knowing one of my rescuers was nearby. Who knew my other rescuer would turn out to be my captor?”

  “This is different,” said Slay.

  “That’s enough now,” interrupted Elissa, keen to move. “If you’ve got shoes, get them on.”

  For a moment, doubt seemed to creep into Joceline’s features. She halted, perhaps on the verge of calling out. Elissa rose the Taser to her eyeline. “Do it.”

  Joceline looked past them towards the door and then span on her heels. She hadn’t taken a step before Elissa landed two electrical charges on her skin, puncturing the dress. Joceline sprawled across the floor, trembling.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” said a male voice from behind. For a moment, Elissa found herself nodding in agreement. Yes, you shouldn’t have tried to run. What were you thinking?

  And then she dropped to the floor.

  Joceline

  Paralysed, but conscious. And mercifully dressed. She didn’t care that much about modesty, but oh how embarrassing it would’ve been if Deke had had to rescue her with her arse to the air, legs twitching like some junkie wannabee. You’re faking. You’re twitching too much. Madness. This was all madness. One minute alone and peaceful playing the 8th Movement of the Tides, and the next rudely interrupted by these pair of revolutionaries. Didn’t they know she wasn’t interested anymore? She longed for the days of the early cycle where the genes had not yet mutated and everyone stayed in line. It wasn’t usually so difficult to do a reset. Damn her brethren, her brothers and sisters, for not doing their job properly. Too many with eyes on other prizes, or on nothing at all, content and bored. Better if they just killed themselves if they were so bored. Just do it!

  Who does she think she is, to talk to her like that?

  Well, no matter, thought Joceline. She won’t last much longer.

  She may have been paralysed but she could still feel, and her head hitting the floorboards had hurt harder than any slap. Her cheek compressed, luckily, she could see what was happening. Deke fired his handgun and the unknown woman went down. Unfortunately, she went down and immediately began a roll towards the bench before the harp. Glass thudded and reverberated as the bullet hit it instead of its target. At the sound of gunfire, Slay ducked and span too, towards the recessed seating of the lounge. Deke fired again, and again, but by that time the stranger had overturned the bench and raised it like a shield, in a low crouch. Each impact brought up puffs of feathers that floated high into the air. In their constellation, she thought she could see herself, sitting there at the harp.

  The harp. Don’t harm the harp.

  Guttural noises issued from her throat.

  When this is over, she thought; next time I will damn well make sure this does not happen again.

  Deke’s handgun clicked. He retreated back to the open door and pulled it half-way closed, so he could stand behind it. Twin darts discharged themselves against the door.

  “Give it up,” shouted Deke. “You’re trapped and there’s no way out.”

  There’s always an escape route. Slay knew that. She knew it from last time.

  “You give it up, Deke.”

  “Slay?”

  It seemed that silence ruled in the aftermath of the gunfire, in fact it was her ears ringing. She could just about make out the voices, but the stranger was dragging the bench with her along the floorboards and towards Slay – something she could only feel in the vibrations through her cheek.

  “Long time, Deke.”

  “Indeed. Where have you been?”

  Damn it, Deke. Just kill them already. Enough of the chatter. The pair of them were now in the lounge recess, bench aiding their position.

  “Around.”

  “You hid well. I swore you’d reach out to Asir – but you never did. Not that I could see.”

  “Of course not.”

  “In fact, he was quite helpful! You’re little escape and murder was the perfect ruse to set him up as bait. He was quite popular… for a while. Informing on quite a few of your friends.”

  “The
re was never any murder, and you know it. You go along with it, even though you know it’s not the truth. You’re a pawn, nothing more, Deke Allinson, and you should be ashamed.”

  “It’s not about what’s true or untrue, Slay. It’s about what’s right.”

  After some gesticulation, the stranger left the recess, heading for Joceline. She wanted to scream out but couldn’t. Drool had puddled by her mouth. Enough with the chatter!

  “Some would say the truth is what’s right,” Slay called out.

  The stranger grabbed her arm and began to lift her up from the floor.

  “Joceline? You okay?” asked Deke.

  “She’s fine,” said Slay. “Go ahead, take a look. Peek that head out from around the door. You know how good a shot I am.”

  Deke laughed. “As I recall, you weren’t that great at all!”

  “Maybe I’ve been taking lessons. What else is a fugitive to do with her time?”

  On her feet, the stranger began walking her towards the bathroom. Heavy… be heavy. Try as she might, her will would not add weight.

  “In fact,” continued Deke, “I remember on more than one occasion having to save you from certain death. Who’s your friend?”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have the necessary security privileges for that information, partner. You see, there’s more going on than you could ever know.”

  “Oh,” he chuckled, dragging out the ‘O’. “And what would that be? The world outside of here? The immortal lives?” A gunshot rang out. She couldn’t see what was happening because she was being dragged through the bathroom doorway.

  “Did I get you?”

  “Yes, Deke; you got me. Now you can turn around and let us get on with saving the city.”

  “I think the city needs saving from you, partner.” Another gunshot echoed through the hall, a little muffled this time, since she now found herself slumped in the shower. The stranger hovered over her, rearranging her limbs. How nice of you.