Victoria falling an apoc.., p.21
Victoria Falling: An Apocalypse LitRPG, page 21
“Right now, he’s working on modifications to the merge generator anomalies. He’s been studying the data from various anomalies that moved back and forth, including the Voiceless Singer, and he believes he can modify the portal to recognize both Claire and anyone moving across the barrier with her as the same anomalous entity. If that’s the case, we can move RST Lambda-Four into the other reality.”
“Won’t work,” one of the troopers says. Rodriguez stares at him until he looks down. “Sorry, ma’am, but we’ve only had two long-term merge incursions, and neither was what I’d call a success.”
“Director Ramirez wouldn’t be asking us to do this if he didn’t think it’d work. The key is Claire being able to cross. Once we’re over there, she’s our key to returning, so keeping her alive is the primary objective. Finishing the mission is secondary; we can take another shot at it if we have to, but not without her.”
I hate this. If I could, I’d walk away. I’d abandon this because it’s not going to help me get stronger. My heart won’t stop pounding, and my lungs feel like they’re going to burst.
[Claire, this has a high chance of working. At the very least, it’s likely that Ramirez will gather valuable information on how to protect Earth from Merge Prime, which will buy you and me time. I strongly recommend you go along with it, regardless of whether you think it’ll work or help you advance your own goals.] James sounds serious.
But I’m not sure I want to. “What if you don’t come back?” I ask Rodriguez.
“The mission has several levels of success,” Lieutenant Rodriguez says. She clenches her teeth, and I can see her neck move as she swallows. “Securing a Voiceless Singer is the ultimate goal. The mission would still be considered a success if we can move non-anomalous humans back and forth between our reality and a different one. However, the mission is only a failure if we lose L4-3. The team is expendable. Claire must survive.”
It’s going to be one of those missions, I think. Rodriguez looks at me, and I realize I said it out loud. I take a deep breath and double down. “Can you explain why Director Ramirez thinks I can do this?” If she has an answer, I’ll give it a try, but if it sounds like bullshit, I’m out. SHOCKS doesn’t matter. Only my people matter. That’s not true, but I’m good at lying to myself—almost as good as Alice. Only when I have to be, though.
“Yes, but it’s going to sound like we’re making stuff up,” Lieutenant Rodriguez says. She launches into an explanation that involves taking certain pills every six hours while in the merge, projecting ‘auras’ onto them with an anomaly that—apparently—makes them real and not some imaginary thing, and completely isolating the portal from our reality before sending anyone through. “I know it sounds like bullshit, but we think it’ll work.”
“You’re not exactly convincing me,” I mutter. But the truth is that she already had. I’ve been doing these missions for so long, jumping through portals, and every time, I’m alone. Sometimes, I’ll have Ramirez talking nonstop in my headset, and James is always with me, but they’re not putting themselves on the line like I am. If this works, I won’t be alone. And for all that he’s SHOCKS, I know I can trust Sergeant Strauss to watch my back.
Strauss, though. He went into another reality with me. He shouldn’t have been able to, but something about those circumstances allowed it. It’s possible, at least.
So, after a minute of listening to her explain all their procedures for tricking my Mergewalk power, I nod. “Okay. I’m in.”
Lieutenant Rodriguez stares at me for a second like I’m crazy. Her facade breaks for a second. “You are? I mean, I’m not even convinced this will work.”
I nod. At least I won’t be alone on the other side. And it does offer all sorts of opportunities to answer Inquiries.
◄▼►
[System Access: 100%]
[Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability]
[Claire Pendleton]
►Stability 1/10
►Skills - Endurance 7, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 10, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 16, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 9, Memetic Resistance 8, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 7, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape, Soundbreak, Determination, Absolution
►Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling
►Inquiries (4/5)
►What’s going on at Albert Head and West End High?
►What do the voiceless singers want?
►Why don’t people come back from other realities?
►Where are the voiceless singers hiding?
►
Something’s been bugging me.
Why can I transfer to other realities so easily? And more importantly, why can’t other people? It shouldn’t be this hard—even with my current skills and powers, I’m not that much more powerful than an average person. According to James, my reality levels are on the high side, but that’s not an explanation. That’s just a fact. Mergewalk helps, but there’s no way SHOCKS could only have had two or three successful missions. Even accounting for my power, it doesn’t make sense.
“James, can you get me information on all the humans who’ve entered other realities.”
James pauses for a second. [That’s over five thousand documented individuals prior to Merge Prime and closer to three hundred thousand after. If I give you the records of everyone prior to Merge Prime who survived the trip for longer than five minutes, that narrows it down to four incidents.]
“Four?” SHOCKS told me there’d been three, not counting me but counting Strauss.
[We had a team enter another reality. They were wiped out, but SHOCKS learned an incredible amount from that operation. The second was Agent Zhang. She spent months in R-1032, but SHOCKS isn’t convinced she didn’t bring something back with her. She went rogue shortly after escaping containment post-return. Then there’s Strauss.] James goes quiet.
“That’s three.” I look around the Experimental Sector. Researchers are everywhere. They’re building a series of towers that look a lot like the Faraday Cage setup, connecting one of those Mobile Containment Units to the merge generator, and rearranging the whole entryway. Massive metal shields hang over the anomalous contraption at wild angles that make no sense to me.
[Yes, the fourth. It’s classified above Director-level clearance.]
“But you have access to it?” I ask.
[Yes. The fourth was a non-accidental merge attempt. Zhang and the RST were mistakes, but they provided vital information to a SHOCKS Headquarters in Florida, which saw an opportunity to either deploy teams into other realities in advance of merges—during what you call the thinning phase—or to preemptively explore and catalog other realities and the anomalies inside of them. They’d hoped to change SHOCKS’s whole mission from one of containment to one of prevention. To build a fortress around R-0 instead of fighting in the streets, so to speak.]
“It didn’t work, though?”
[Actually, it worked perfectly. The testing RST entered another reality and found the thinning from the far side, then set up various anti-merge technology. They dug in and prepared for a reality merge.]
“What happened?” I ask.
James is quiet for a moment. [Sorry, London’s going crazy. Have you ever seen the videos of when they tried plugging that volcano in Mexico?]
“Yeah. It was in one of my science classes last year.”
[It was like that. The reality merge was delayed by several days before popping violently. It ate a good portion of the Everglades. After the experiment failed, all the records were sealed, and all cross-reality missions were forbidden. The penalty’s pretty steep, too. If what Ramirez is trying doesn’t work, he’s already done enough for SHOCKS to terminate him just by facilitating your Mergewalks, to say nothing of both using you as a SHOCKS agent in other realities and attempting to send a full RST through a thinning.]
So, Director Ramirez knows that this is a bad idea, and he knows the consequences, but he doesn’t know the truth about why it’s not allowed. I shiver. If this mission goes wrong, will we set up a plugged volcano scenario?
Will it matter?
No, it won’t. The current conditions on Earth are so bad that one more reality dumping into ours will hardly matter. In many ways, the fight’s already over, and this is a desperate Hail Mary and nothing more.
The rest of RST Lambda-Four are sitting nearby but separate from me. There’s still a trust barrier there. Strauss has his head deep in his bag; he’s packed it absolutely full of stuff, and the rover drone thingie with the dozens of merge-closing explosives and devices has a pair of bags on its back. They’re filled with even more gizmos and gadgets; as I look at them, James helpfully labels them in my augs. I ignore the labels. They don’t matter.
Rodriguez is talking through her headset. I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but she sounds pissed off. I can’t see her face between the helmet, the mask, and the bad angle, but I can’t help imagining the glare. And the other two—Daley and Munroe—work on their weapons and gear. They’re the team’s shooters. They’ve both got battle rifles that are identical to the one Strauss carried when I ran into him at Aberdeen Hospital.
“Dammit,” Rodriguez says. She paces back and forth, and I watch her, but her voice lowers to the point where I can’t hear it anymore. Strauss zips up his bag and checks the triple battery and solar charger on the rover. And I watch. Everyone looks like they’re trying to look relaxed—but failing. The tension’s so thick I can feel it weighing down on me.
“Alright, team. Go time. Paul says we’ve got a window for the next minute and thirty seconds. We’re landing on the dark world from L4-3’s vision. Go.” Lieutenant Rodriguez shoulders her pack and rifle, then runs for the gap in the Faraday Cage. The others follow her, the little rover whining along behind as it struggles to keep up.
They stop on the ramp.
I’ve got a harness on over my hoodie. It feels like a combination climbing harness and combat set-up, but its back’s covered in metal rings. The other members of the team chew on something and swallow as they hook their combat plate carrier things to my shoulders with quick-release straps. According to Director Ramirez, we’re trying to trick Object 723-V-1/RP into recognizing us as one entity with all my powers.
I glance at him. He looks sweaty, and he can’t help but drum his fingers on the top of a nearby computer box. His eyes meet mine, then drift toward Lieutenant Rodriguez before snapping back to the screen.
A light in front of us goes green, and the five of us move forward into the merge generator.
It feels more like Jell-O than it ever has. Mergewalk strains to move me forward. I’m not any stronger than normal, and I feel like I’m dragging all the others through the merge. The rover scoots past me, beeping.
Then I hit the ground on the far side. Bright yellow sunlight pours across the beach. All around me, the rest of Lambda-Four coughs and vomits. Helmets come off and packs and guns hit the pure-white ground as the Recovery and Stabilization Team…recovers and stabilizes. Wherever they touch the ground, the sand they’re lying on turns sky-blue.
“Command, this is Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez, Lambda-Four-One.” Rodriguez forces herself to stand and shoves her helmet back on. “Mission is compromised.”
I look around. The merge portal is gone.
We’re on our own.
Chapter Twenty
On my nature trip up to Ucluelet, we spent a lot of time on the beach. My friends—or at least, my classmates—wanted to find hermit crabs. I tried to tell them that hermit crabs were more tropical, but they didn’t listen to me.
Not the point.
When Alice and I visited Telegraph Bay, the fungus was starting to grow and cover everything. We watched the water coming in. The air was full of spores, and I couldn’t stop sneezing, but the waves rippled and shimmered just like they always had.
I’d never been much of a beach girl, but I couldn’t help but notice the tiny footprint trails in the layer of spores that covered the sand. Were my classmates right? Or was this something else?
I’m tempted to believe it was something else, but part of me hopes it was hermit crabs.
◄▼►
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown
- - - - -
The team recovers quickly, to their credit.
Within a few seconds, their rifles are waving around as they check the thin spit of sand we’ve found ourselves on. Everywhere they step, the crunchy, thick sand turns blue—the longer they stay in one place, the more brilliant it gets. The color’s brightest near their vomit puddles.
“James, information? Can you connect to the whole team?” I ask.
[Yes. Overriding secondary command and control protocols. I’m in their augs directly. That will allow Director Ramirez to maintain contact,] James says. He sounds distracted, and for a second, I’m furious about that. [JAMES Unit communication incoming. Current reality status incomplete. Reality levels are medium-low to low. Atmosphere is breathable. Lieutenant Rodriguez, report landing conditions to Command at your convenience.]
“Got it,” Rodriguez says through clenched teeth. “JAMES Unit, can you analyze the ground? What’s going on here?”
[Already running analysis. Analyzing. Analysis complete. Start moving.]
“Where?” Daley—L4-4—says.
[Anywhere. Don’t stay still.]
The ground where the team landed starts to collapse on itself. It’s like there’s nothing under the thin layer of sand we landed on. I scramble back, away from the blue below my feet. Strauss is already moving. The rover beeps in panic and floors it down the beach; two wavy blue lines follow it as one of its saddle bags falls off. It drops into the void below.
“Come on!” Rodriguez shouts, and we start jogging down the beach after the robot.
Behind us, the world slices into chunks as the ground cracks and collapses behind the robot.
◄▼►
Forty-five minutes later, I spot the ship.
It’s enormous—a cruise ship or an oil tanker. I can’t tell from this distance, even though I’ve seen them in Victoria’s ports before. Strauss sees it a second later. “Lieutenant, we’ve got something. Possible place to hole up and get our bearings?”
“Negative,” Rodriguez says. “Our mission is to acquire a Voiceless Singer. We keep moving until we find one.”
[Ma’am,] James says, [the odds of finding a Voiceless Singer by wandering are quite low. However, they seem to be interested in L4-3. Further, the beach is not a safe place to gain a powerful anomaly’s attention. The ship may not be subject to the same anomaly as the sand is—the fact that it’s still here suggests it’s stable. That would give us time to create a course of action.]
I roll my eyes. “We can’t stop anywhere else.”
The lieutenant seems like she’s wavering. A chunk of sand falls into the nothing, and she makes up her mind. “Fine. Command, we’ve encountered a ship. I’m recording video—expect highly compressed images at low framerate. The JAMES Unit and L4-3 have convinced us to investigate.”
“Very well,” Director Ramirez’s voice comes in over my helmet. “L4, approach cautiously and be prepared for anomalous behavior from the vessel.”
The others have their guns out and ready, so I draw my Revolver and take point. Rodriguez nods, and we head for the ship.
As we get closer, it seems to get taller. It’s not a cruise ship, that’s for sure. I’ve seen a few moving across the Salish Sea, and they all have windows and slides and stuff. They’re white and clean, and they seem to float like clouds. This one’s a rusted hulk with a single towering bridge halfway down its deck and a second raised area at the stern.
Its hull is broken, too, and thick, black oil oozes from the port side onto the sand between the front and back halves of the ship. The beach doesn’t turn blue or collapse, though, and Strauss heads straight for the oil. He puts a foot on it, and it stays solid. “Confirming that it’s the sand, and that it’s got something to do with…uh, reality-level issues?”
[Affirmative,] James says. [Reality levels here are both low, but the discrepancy is almost exclusively in the sand.]
The oil’s sticky beneath my feet, but the sand doesn’t collapse, and even the rover can fit on the stinking black goop. Strauss breaks out a rope—he’s got everything for this expedition—and we climb aboard the wreck. As we do, I pass a faded painted name, and I shiver.
The ship’s name is the SS Pendleton.
◄▼►
We secure the bridge, and Lieutenant Rodriguez calls in what she’s learned.
I ignore her. James is talking. [The Pendleton was a real ship from our reality, Claire. She has nothing to do with you. She sank in the 1950s—ninety years ago—off Cape Cod in the United States. They pulled a bunch of sailors out of the water, but the ship was lost, and they missed a handful of crewmates. We’ve just found her, though.]
“It’s not a coincidence,” I whisper.
[It is a coincidence. We could easily have ended up in any of a dozen different realities. This one happened to be where the Mergewalk spat us out. Director Ramirez and I are attempting to troubleshoot why the merge generator malfunctioned and get you and Lambda-Four back on course. In the meantime, hold tight onboard the Pendleton and wait for orders, okay?]
I don’t say anything. I’m busy staring at the rusted deck below the bridge. It’s covered in tubes and tanks, arranged in what should be a pattern, but it looks haphazard to me—like vines and pumpkins, not oil storage. Oil covers the deck. It’s everywhere; the whole inside must be full of it.
