Splintered gates, p.20
Splintered Gates, page 20
“I’ll need to consider that,” I replied noncommittally. “There are independent practitioners with relevant knowledge, but bringing them into an Agency framework would require significant trust building.”
Mercer nodded, seemingly satisfied with this response. “We don’t have much time before Lang can recalibrate his network, based on our analysis of the energy disruption patterns. I want preliminary counterstrategy options by tomorrow morning.”
The timeline aligned with Nadia and Matthew’s estimate, confirming that the Agency’s technical assessment of our disruption operation was accurate. I would need to carefully balance my official work with Mercer’s team against continued collaboration with my unofficial allies.
“I’ll need access to complete technical specifications for all identified circle locations,” I said, establishing requirements that would provide valuable information for both official and unofficial efforts.
“Already arranged,” Alison confirmed. “Along with unrestricted access to relevant historical case files, including your mother’s research on convergent boundary mechanics.”
The mention of my mother’s work was deliberate—a reminder that Mercer possessed information I valued and might be willing to share in exchange for my full cooperation. A subtle but effective incentive.
As the meeting concluded and we prepared to move to a secure briefing room for more detailed planning, I felt the silver thread of Nadia’s threadweaving technique still active within my magical signature. It was, at least for now, a constant reminder of commitments and connections beyond the Agency’s awareness or control.
The next few hours would require careful navigation between official and unofficial efforts to prevent Lang’s convergent gateway from activating, between Agency protocols and unorthodox alliances, but also between past connections that had unwittingly contributed to the threat and present actions that might yet neutralize it.
And somewhere beneath all these considerations, a personal question persisted: When this crisis was resolved—if reality remained intact—what would remain of the silver threads connecting me to a violet-eyed threadweaver whose methods and motivations defied conventional magical understanding?
CHAPTER 16
“The most dangerous practitioners aren’t those who break the rules, but those who understand them so intimately they can bend them to purposes no one else imagined possible.”—From “Threat Assessment: Non-Standard Practitioners,” Shamrock Disposal Agency classification manual
The Agency vehicle moved through early morning traffic with the smooth efficiency of official operations everywhere. Alison drove, her attention on the road while still tracking our surroundings like someone who’d spent years watching for threats. I sat in the passenger seat, reviewing technical specifications for Lang’s warehouse that had been provided during our briefing with Mercer.
“How much of the property has the Agency actually accessed?” I asked, studying the blueprint annotations that indicated sections cleared for investigation versus those still pending assessment.
“About sixty percent,” Alison replied. “The main laboratory areas, storage facilities, and most of the administrative sections. Several sublevels are still under containment protocols. There are unusual energy signatures that the tech teams are still evaluating.”
“And we have authorization to access all areas today?”
“Within safety parameters, yes.” She glanced at me briefly. “Director Mercer wants your assessment of the entire facility, given your history with Lang’s operations. She thinks you might recognize elements that standard protocols would miss.”
Translation: My perspective as both a morph and someone who had unknowingly contributed to Lang’s preparations made me valuable for this inspection. What went unsaid was whether this value outweighed concerns about my reliability given recent energy disruptions at keystone locations.
We arrived at the warehouse—an unassuming industrial building in a district full of similar structures, its true nature hidden behind generic corporate signage for Transcendental Research Solutions. Agency security measures were visible only if you knew what to look for: monitoring equipment disguised as utility fixtures or what appeared to be maintenance workers but were clearly field agents keeping watch.
“Smith coordinated the initial lockdown,” Alison explained as we approached the main entrance. “He’s been reassigned to the water treatment plant investigation, which gives us relatively unrestricted access today.”
“Convenient timing,” I observed. The careful compartmentalization that kept Smith, and his persistent suspicion of me, separated from our current inspection seemed deliberate.
Alison’s expression gave nothing away as she swiped her credentials at the entrance. Additional biometric confirmation registered her identity before the reinforced doors slid open. “Director Mercer believes your insights will be more forthcoming without Agent Smith’s oversight.”
The warehouse interior was nothing like its mundane exterior. It was a sophisticated research facility with high-end equipment organized in distinct work zones. The central area contained standard laboratory apparatus, while specialized magical research equipment occupied sections along the perimeter. Agency containment markers indicated areas that had been processed for evidence collection, with some sections still restricted behind shimmer-fields that isolated dangerous magical energies.
“The technical team finished their initial assessment yesterday,” Alison said, leading me toward what appeared to be the primary research area. “Their preliminary findings confirmed sophisticated boundary mechanics experimentation, but with anomalies they couldn’t classify.”
“What kind of anomalies?”
“Energy signatures that don’t fit standard categories.” She gestured toward a collection of specialized monitoring equipment. “These devices were recording dimensional fluctuations at microscales—changes too subtle for conventional detection but potentially significant when you add them up across multiple locations.”
I examined the equipment, recognizing modifications to standard Agency designs that would allow detection of extremely subtle boundary phenomena. “He was monitoring weak spots between realms—potential access points that exist naturally but are usually too unstable to use.”
“Like finding hairline cracks in reality,” Alison suggested.
“Then systematically widening them, using the summoning circles as anchor points.” I moved deeper into the laboratory, extending my senses to feel the residual magical energies in the space. “The network wasn’t just creating new openings—it was exploiting existing vulnerabilities.”
As we continued our inspection, I noted the methodical organization in every aspect of Lang’s operation. Each research station addressed a specific component of the convergent gateway design, with meticulous documentation and redundant systems ensuring no single failure point could compromise the overall project. This was the work of someone who had spent decades refining his approach after the failures of 1993.
We moved to a section containing specialized containment units—devices designed to hold samples of boundary materials or energies for extended study. Most were empty, their contents presumably removed during the Agency’s protective extraction operation, but residual energy signatures remained detectable to my senses.
“These contained samples from the predatory realms,” I said, examining the collection protocols documented at each station. “Minute fragments extracted through temporary micro-connections, allowing detailed analysis without creating permanent breaches.”
“Lang was studying the composition of these realms before attempting full convergence,” Alison observed. “Building a complete picture of what he was connecting to.”
“Not just studying them,” I corrected, noting patterns in the data recordings. “He was testing compatibility factors—how energies from different realms interact when brought into proximity. Creating a controlled model of what would happen during full convergence.”
As we completed our circuit of the main laboratory level, something about the floor layout nagged at me—a subtle inconsistency between the physical space and the blueprints I’d reviewed. The central section appeared slightly elevated compared to the surrounding areas, though the difference was skillfully disguised by the unified flooring material.
“This section doesn’t match the building specs,” I said, kneeling to examine the junction where the elevation difference was most noticeable. “There’s something beneath the main floor that isn’t in the official plans.”
Alison joined me, her expression sharpening. “The tech team noted potential subsurface anomalies but prioritized securing visible equipment and materials.”
I placed my palm against the floor, extending my senses through the material. A familiar energy pattern responded—the distinctive signature of a containment barrier similar to those I’d established at other locations for Dr. Wilson years ago.
“There’s a containment barrier here,” I confirmed. “Similar to work I did for Lang at other properties—a selectively permeable containment field designed to allow certain energies through while blocking others.”
“Including Agency detection methods,” Alison concluded. “Can you bypass it?”
“I designed it, or at least, something very close.” I traced the edge of the concealed section, identifying the control nodes incorporated into the seemingly ordinary flooring.
I focused on generating the appropriate magical signature, a precisely calibrated pulse that would register as authorized access to the containment system. The floor responded immediately, sections sliding apart to reveal a recessed chamber about twenty feet in diameter.
We both stepped back as the hidden space was exposed, magical containment protocols automatically engaging around the perimeter to prevent energy leakage. The chamber contained what was unmistakably another summoning circle, more elaborate than those we’d discovered at other locations, with intricate patterns etched into a material that resembled polished obsidian but radiated distinctive magical properties.
Alison activated her specialized detection equipment, scanning the circle from behind the containment barrier. “Energy signature is dormant but intact. The disruption operation affected its active functions but didn’t damage the underlying structure.”
I studied the circle’s design, my discomfort growing as I recognized how many elements incorporated my personal modifications—containment structures and energy channels I’d developed for specific extraction applications, now repurposed as components in Lang’s master control system. But more disturbing was the realization that the circle’s overall configuration mimicked a larger pattern.
“This is a scale model,” I said, the pieces clicking into place. “Look.” I pointed to specific elements. “This node here corresponds to Olban Pines. This one to Westside Park. The whole thing maps to the citywide network.”
“A magical control panel,” Alison said, continuing to document the discovery with her equipment.
“More than that. This would let Lang feel each component of the network and make real-time adjustments based on energy fluctuations across the entire system.” I circled the chamber carefully, examining the components. “The precision is insane. Each element corresponds to a specific external location, including...”
I stopped, recognizing a particularly distinctive section of the design. “These seven primary nodes. They’re the locations where I did breaking work for Lang years ago. He built my work directly into the control architecture.”
The full weight of it hit me. Lang hadn’t just borrowed my techniques. He’d woven my specific magical signature into the foundation of his convergent gateway. I wasn’t just an unwitting contributor. I was part of the infrastructure.
“He was planning this for years before his release from containment,” I said. “Identifying key locations, hiring specialists who wouldn’t see the larger pattern, gradually assembling everything he needed for a project the Agency was specifically monitoring him to prevent.”
“Working within his restrictions while systematically finding ways around them,” Alison agreed. “The Agency’s been watching Lang since his release, but his activities stayed just below the threshold that would justify direct intervention.”
“By design. He knew exactly where those thresholds were and made damn sure not to cross them until he was ready.”
As we continued examining the control circle, I noticed something unusual about the material it was made from: The obsidian-like substance contained threadlike filaments that seemed to shift and realign when viewed from different angles. They weren’t physical components but energy conduits of some kind, similar to the thread patterns Nadia had demonstrated, but materialized into semi-solid form.
While Alison focused on documenting the circle’s primary components, I discreetly collected a small sample of the material, using a specialized extraction tool from my kit to remove a fragment no larger than a fingernail. The sample went into a containment vial designed to preserve magical properties while blocking detection—standard equipment for field consultants, but particularly useful for sharing with unofficial allies like Nadia.
“There’s more,” Alison called from the opposite side of the chamber, where she’d discovered a concealed access panel in the wall. “Another hidden section.”
The panel opened to reveal a small room that served as Lang’s private study, untouched by the Agency’s initial processing of the warehouse. Shelves lined the walls; they were filled with journals, reference texts, and specialized magical implements. A desk occupied the center, its surface covered with detailed diagrams and notes in precise handwriting.
“His personal research,” I said. “The theoretical foundation for the whole project.”
We began carefully examining the contents, maintaining proper evidence handling while documenting everything. The journals were the real find, decades of meticulous research into boundary mechanics, dimensional interface theories, and what Lang called consumption-oriented realities—his clinical term for predatory realms. Somehow, there was no mention of James.
“Listen to this,” Alison said, reading from a journal dated about three years before Lang’s release. “‘Agency restrictions focus on preventing external manifestation while inadequately monitoring theoretical development. The cognitive component remains unrestricted, allowing refinement of convergent gateway architecture despite physical limitations on implementation.’“
“He was developing the entire system in his head during containment,” I said. “Refining the design and preparing for implementation once they eased up on him.”
“And this.” She turned to a more recent entry. “‘Drexler’s containment modifications provide the essential selective permeability required for sustainable convergence. Conventional breaking techniques create absolute barriers unsuitable for controlled interrealm transit, but his approach maintains system integrity while allowing precisely calibrated energy exchange.’“
There it was in black and white. Lang had specifically sought out my services because my unusual approach to breaking and containment was exactly what he needed for the convergent gateway.
As I continued examining the study, I discovered a hidden compartment beneath a section of flooring. It used the same concealment approach as the control circle but was smaller. Inside were journals of a different nature, bound in what appeared to be leather but radiated distinctly non-terrestrial energy signatures.
“These aren’t from our reality,” I said. “The material composition doesn’t match anything in Agency classification systems.”
Alison approached with appropriate caution, her detection equipment registering unusual readings. “The energy signature has similarities to samples recovered from Olban Pines, but with significant variations.”
I opened the journal carefully. The pages were covered in script that shifted between recognizable languages and utterly alien symbolic systems. The portions I could read described properties of various predatory realms in disturbing detail—consumption mechanisms, adaptation strategies, compatibility factors between different dimensional structures.
“This is direct documentation from the realms Lang was trying to connect,” I said. “He wasn’t just studying them theoretically—he established limited access that allowed information exchange.”
“Intelligence gathering before full convergence,” Alison said. “Building a complete picture of what he was dealing with.”
“But why?” I closed the journal, returning it to its containment area. “These records make it clear Lang fully understood the predatory nature of these realms. He documented their consumption patterns, their strategies for absorbing other realities. Why create a permanent gateway to entities he knew were an existential threat?”
Alison considered the question. “The journals might explain his motivation. This level of preparation suggests specific objectives beyond academic curiosity or power games.”
We continued our examination, discovering increasingly disturbing evidence of Lang’s research into predatory realms. There did seem to be something about specific realms, but we couldn’t figure out where Lang had located his son. Not yet.
One cabinet contained artifacts that radiated non-terrestrial energies—small objects of unknown composition that appeared to serve as anchors or connection points to specific realms. Each was meticulously labeled with coordinates and timestamps, suggesting they functioned as permanent reference markers for realms Lang had successfully accessed at least temporarily.
“He created a dimensional mapping system,” I said, examining the artifact collection without directly handling any components. “Each of these works like a tuning fork, resonating with the specific frequency of its corresponding realm.”
