Chapter 28: Gears of the Coming Blood Machine
Against his skin, the Bearer of Empathy could feel the fine mist collect, refreshing to the touch as the silver-lined fog hung low upon the rocky earth. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the dampened air, filling his lungs with the sweetened sensation of freshly fallen rain and blooming flora, all the while scouring his subconscious for the roots of this wondrous place. Exhaling slowly, he looked out amongst the faded silhouettes of sapphire pools that dotted the expanse, each flowing in an infinite cycle into one another and into the endless depths below. Within his inceptive self, the man was struck with the clarifying conclusion that all that was reality was nothing more than a fictional lucidity.
Since that seemingly uneventful day in class where he first encountered this land, Trio had been pulled back in on more than one occasion. In fact, by all fair guesses it had been around eight to ten times now since their journey began, each one a vivid repeat of that first step into descending madness. Every outcome played out exactly the same as the last, wherein the entranced young man tried desperately to make out the face of the figure before him and the reasons behind her sorrowful state of being. As he would place a comforting hand upon her, she would shudder for a moment, after which he would be pulled out of the dreamscape to awaken paralyzed in a pool of his own sweat, nerves still barely alight with the fading warmth of her body.
Today was no different as the projection began its cycle like clockwork.
On cue, the surrounding haze subsided, revealing the landscape once more in all its dazzling beauty of indigo, violet, and gold swirling together on the horizon. Why he had been drawn to this plane again, he really couldn't say for certain, but he wasn't one to believe in the prospect of coincidences. All that he had to go by was the obvious feeling that she was at the heart of it all.
Taking a cautious step forward, he only managed to make it halfway through his movement before he was abruptly halted by a warm hand upon his shoulder, followed by light, rhythmic breaths upon his nape. He knew at once the source of the pleasant sensations, not needing to turn around to know that the radiant woman had reappeared within his apparitions. Without protest, he felt his muscles loosen at the foreign touches, taking pleasure in the compassionate caress of her fingers and the coyness with which she held herself just close enough. Unlike his previous visit to the deep region of surreality, wherein the girl had kept her distance save for a moment, she now embraced him as both stranger and friend. Why now the visions had changed, again he couldn't say for certain, but he wasn't in any position to stop its course.
His lips moved to form words, but none came, lost in his inability to gain full control over his psyche in the dreamscape. Feeling a brush of skin against the left side of his ribs, she had reached through to place her petite hand against his chest, moving it over his heart to explore his resonance. He did not defy her, submitting to her wanderings as she moved with delicate hesitation about him from behind. With his stomach caught in his throat, he observed the slight shake in her touch as she read his body and soul like a braille book.
From the other side, her right hand had slipped around to find its way atop his own. Looking down, he could see in greater detail the floral tattoo that marked her skin; an eye within the center of the blooming crimson rose staring back at him as though it were alive and truly embedded in her flesh. It took a moment for him to realize that the pigment of the ink was shifting subtly, changing the iris in a collage of colors. From a light blue, to a deep brown, to a sparkling golden hazel, the oculus moved through the spectrum in a hypnotic cycle.
The artistic persona within was captivated by all that was happening around him, taking as many mental photographs as possible for future reference before he disappeared from this Dalian heaven. Meanwhile, the rational side was now being drawn into a tug-of-war between his states of euphoric bliss and utter perplexity.
"Just who are you?" he managed to force barely above a whisper.
Her answer came not in words, but by entwining her fingers between his, massaging the top of his hand with her thumb. If it had been under any other circumstances, the Bearer could have sworn he was being seduced, but there was a familiar aura in her actions that he recognized all too well.
It was the reflection of a weary and longing heart; one that ached for solace from another living soul.
She didn't exist in reality and he knew that, but in his current frame of mind he truly couldn't tell nor did he really care in all honesty. For all intents and purposes the woman in the thin veil of a dress was as real as anything else in the world to him. Reaching up, he cupped his left hand over the one she kept placed on his chest, holding her close as to relish in the intimacy.
He wanted the moment to last far longer than it did as he stood in the serenity of the mystical world, but he could feel the darkness pulling upon him again. In a last second act of desperation he tried to spin around to get a glimpse of her face before making his departure, but was too late to do so as the plane collapsed and his astral self returned to its physical vessel.
Awakening, Trio blinked multiple times, trying to force the groggy blackness from his vision. Sitting up in a still half-conscious haze, his temple struck a steel crossbar that hung barely two feet above his head, causing the half-naked man to let out a very audible four letter expletive as he tumbled off the rack onto the icy floor below. Tangled in a heap of thin sheets and a single blanket, the bed-head ridden Digi-Destined rubbed the swollen area where his hairline began, trying to soothe the welp that had started to form.
"Are you alright?" Chitalmon asked with concern, lifting his head from his sleeping arrangements below his partner in the cramped single bed room. The human had practically fallen on top of him as he tumbled out of the narrow rack and was now lifting himself off the cold metal floor.
"Yeah, I'm good," he replied, massaging his forehead.
"I must be losing my damn mind though," he added beneath his breath.
"I'm not normally one to complain," Chitalmon began stretching his legs as much as he could in the confined quarters. "But how long are we going to be on this ship? I'm not exactly what you would call a nautical Digimon and I'm already starting to get cabin fever."
"Not much longer hopefully," Trio answered. "We just have to keep this act up for a little bit longer and we'll be out of here once we get to the next village. And how are you getting cabin fever already? This ship is enormous."
Enormous was hardly an appropriate description of the vessel they now found themselves inside the belly of. The proper term should have been "submersible fortified city". From what he had seen as they were brought aboard, the "ship" was a submarine easily over five hundred yards wide and a hundred yards tall. He used those measurements quite loosely because he could never see the full entirety of the structure as it receded into the darkness of the sea. He could only imagine the true dimensions of the fortress.
"Yeah, but it's so cramped," Chitalmon complained. "I can barely move in the halls without bumping into something or hitting my head on a pipe."
"I know it stinks, but we just have to suck it up until we find out what this top secret super critical mission is."Trio replied, deliberately saying the last part with obvious sarcasm.
Pulling himself up, Trio took a moment to peer into a small mirror that hung above a spittoon of a sink, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and checking the status of the injuries he had acquired during their stint in Rio de Huesos. The swelling from the twin impacts on his chest had certainly gone down, he noted, but the blackened bruises that were left had yet to regain much of their original color. Once somewhat satisfied that there wasn't anything he could do to speed up the healing process, he opened the door to the locker in the corner of the room and reached for his shirts that hung from a hook inside. Slipping the pressed uniform on, he smartly rolled the sleeves of his onyx shirt up to his elbows, taking notice of the three blood red chevrons that were on prominent display on each of his shoulders and how they had unintentionally landed them in their current predicament.
One day prior the Digi-Destined had come across an unusual strip of barren coast pitted with craters and ditches. It struck them as peculiar as either side of the section was grown over with the high grass and weeds that they had been traveling through, but everything for several hundred yards was completely empty. Moving cautiously as to avoid tumbling into an unseen hole, they made their way up and down through the pot-marked earth, noticing the speckled glitter of the sand and the odd crunching sounds beneath them.
Squatting down, Andreo could see the ground had begun to spiderweb and crack under the weight of his foot. Picking up a handful of the earth and crumbling it between his fingers, he took note of the large chunks of iridescent crystalline that lined the surface.
"The top of this sand is almost like glass," he stated, prompting everyone else to grab themselves a chunk to examine. "And it's kinda sharp too."
"Most intriguing," Beakmon added, letting the bits of crystal fall through his feathers. "Although it's far from the strangest thing in the Digital World."
"Says the two foot tall talking bluejay."
"Eighty two centimeters, thank you very much," his partner corrected. "And I resent that remark."
"Halt!" came a barking voice. "Hands in the air! Identify yourselves!"
From the high brush not too far away a dozen creatures emerged, each about one and a half to two feet tall and clad in a white jumpsuit with various red lines about the sleeves. A shining black dome covered the majority of their grey faces, giving them the appearance of walking black and white mushrooms.
Before anyone could see him, Andreo reached down and scooped a large handful of the glass-laden sand into his cargo pockets. He had a sneaking suspicion that it needed further examination.
As the Digimon neared closer, his Digivice lit up in its standard neon green.
"Conermon," he relayed. "Aquatic type Rookies…"
"I said hands in the air!" the voice commanded beneath the helmet. "This is a restricted area. We are under orders not to allow anyone into the vicinity."
"Relax fellas," Croix said, taking a step forward trying to diffuse the situation. "We were just passin' through and…"
Before he realized what had happened, half a dozen of the Conermon had swarmed him, kicking his legs out from under him and twisting his arms painfully behind his back, practically tying the cowboy in a pretzel in the process. The Rookies must have been deceptively strong for their size, as they carried no weapons and Croix was no pushover himself.
"Not another step closer," the apparent head Conermon demanded. "Turn around and leave at once and we will release him."
"Alright pipsqueaks," Cubmon warned, cracking his knuckles. "You want a fight, you just got one."
Coppermon, however, didn't have any patience for showboating and simply decided to put an end to the farce. Slinging his tail forward, he released both of his rings, ensnaring two of the sentinels in one and three in the other.
"I've heard about you Conermon before," he hissed, watching the stunned looks on their faces as he immobilized half their force in seconds. "You're sea mercenaries, or would 'pirates' work better?"
"We're loyal sailors of the Imperial Digital Guard," the lead Conermon countered. "And you are all violating the integrity of our mission. I demand to know which of you is in charge. I will only speak to your commander."
"You're in no position to make demands," Coppermon stated. "But if you really must know, he's the only one wearing rank."
"Rank?" the Digimon questioned.
Searching over the band of intruders, he indeed did find one human with three chevrons sewn to his sleeves, a petty officer in the Guard. From appearances alone he didn't strike one as a commander. His hair was unkempt and wild, his body frail and unintimidating, and his posture didn't carry the presence of a leader.
"You there," the Conermon pointed out accusingly, seeming to forget that it was he who was now on the defensive side of negotiations. "What is your name and rank? Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Stunned that he had now been thrust to the forefront of this predicament, Trio looked around in confusion, unsure of what to make of it all or even do.
"What are you up to?" Cubmon whispered covertly to the serpent. "They're munchkins. We can take them out without breaking a sweat."
"I know," Coppermon replied quietly. "He's just too easy to mess with though."
"You're horrible," he snickered.
All eyes fell on the still stunned human, watching as he looked back with perplexity and doubt. After a moment of hesitation, he rolled his shoulders back and puffed his chest out unnecessarily. Unseen by the remainder of the Digi-Destined, his soft hazel eyes hardened into a sharpened gleam as he took a step forward.
"My name is Captain Trio Borromean," he boasted in his best military voice as he glared down at the head Conermon. "I'm the Commanding Officer of the Sixth Digital Expedition Force. This is my Executive Officer, Chitalmon. We're here under classified orders that I'm not at liberty to discuss. I also feel that it's only fair to warn you that the man you have pinned down is my heavy weapons Sergeant and not somebody you'd want to get on the wrong side of. You saw how easily you were disarmed, and that was just one of us."
Surprise shown on all the Digi-Destineds' faces at the way Trio had taken the subtle prank and turned it on its head.
"So here's what we're going to do," he stated, towering over the Conermon. "Coppermon is going to release your men, then you're going to release my Sergeant, and then you're going to escort us to your ship unharmed and take us to the nearest town. Then you will drop us off, and you can be on your way."
From beneath the blackened dome, they could feel the detested glare that was watching them.
"What makes you think we'll take you back to our ship… assuming we have one?" he huffed.
"Cause I'm gonna tear ya'll to pieces if ya don't," Croix spat with his face still in the sharpened sand and arms twisted.
"That's a good reason," Trio continued. "But I believe that it would be in the best interest for both of us if we could put this behind us and ally ourselves, if only for a little while. If you take us to the closest town, we'll serve aboard your ship however we can until we arrive. Does that sound fair?"
The militaristic "Commander" didn't need to look behind him to see the stupefied expressions on his friends' faces. He also knew that they probably were thinking he had lost his mind, but in reality if the Conermon could take them back to civilization then he was willing to do a day or two of manual labor to get there. He just hoped that everybody else would forgive him for it.
"Even if I was to take you there, there's no room aboard the ship," the Conermon stated bitterly. "Everyone has their duty and we can't just make room for you to take over someone's job."
"I know a way we can clear some room," Cubmon grinned, punching his fist into his open palm.
"Cubmon...," Erri growled irritably.
"I understand that you have your duties, but we have ours as well," Trio continued, ignoring Cubmon's remark. "If you assist us, you'll have our appreciation and guaranteed protection."
The ball was now in the Conermons' court as the Digi-Destined watched one of the creatures who hadn't been snared whisper a few words into what they all assumed was the leader's ear. After a brief exchanging of words, their commander spoke up.
"We will accept your offer, on two conditions," he stated with a hint of reluctance. "The first is that you will keep your team in check while aboard our ship…Captain. If any one of them stirs up trouble, you'll all be chum for the Seadramon."
"Agreed," Trio nodded, seemingly undeterred by the threat.
"And the second is that you will, given our Commander's approval, assist us in a very critical mission."
"Which would be?"
"That is classified information that I'm not at liberty to discuss," the Conermon mocked.
"Alright then, we have an agreement," Trio concluded.
He knew that his friends probably wouldn't approve of his brash decision, seeing as how there were numerous options present where they wouldn't have to get involved with the shady Digimon. However, he was doing what he believed was best to both get them to civilization sooner rather than later and keep their reputation as Digi-Destined intact.
Nodding in Coppermon's direction, the floating reptile got the message and reluctantly called back his rings, freeing the sailors. Satisfied, the Conermon loosened their grip on Croix, who pulled himself up with a scowl as he swept the sand off of his body and clothing.
"Signal a transport team for our…guests," the Conermon ordered. "And see to it that the Commander is notified of their arrival. I'm sure he'd like to have a few words with them in private."
A team of Conermon saluted proudly and took off down the beachhead and into the water, disappearing from sight below the waves. They returned several minutes later with half a dozen oddly shaped submersibles barely large enough to carry two of them at a time. With Trio having put them into the position, the Digi-Destined marched down to meet them.
"That was a nice performance," Chitalmon complimented. "But do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"What?" Trio stated, cocking a brow. "You don't trust me?"
"I do. It's them that I don't."
"Same here," Coppermon confirmed.
"So are ya sure about these guys bein' mercs?" Croix questioned Coppermon covertly as they walked deliberately behind the rest of the group.
"Yeah, they're up to no good, but they're small fry. I don't know what's going on, so just keep on your toes and watch your back. I can't babysit you all the time."
"Why do ya'll automatically assume I'm gonna do something stupid?" Croix grinned humorously. "Last time I checked that was Trio and Ry's department."
Glancing at the small clock on her desktop, Doctor Jin Xu eyed the digital icon with weary eyes and unfulfilled expectations. It was now almost two in the morning and she had barely made a dent in her work. Removing her circular glasses, she swept back the bangs of her black hair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She probably should get some sleep, but there was just too much on her plate to do at the moment. She may have been a prodigy, but even this was proving to be more than she had bargained for. Normal women her age were getting married or even having kids. Suzy was living almost a football field underground in a Cold War era bunker working in a level of secrecy that made Area 51 look like an open house.
She had been called onto Project Binary only two years after receiving her Doctorate. With the promise of a near seven figure salary, there was no hesitation to answer the strange letter she had received. Before she knew it, she was in a blacked out SUV and her belongings had already been packed up for her. She didn't understand much of the details of the black ops program, but then again neither did anyone else for that matter. The program director did his best to keep everyone compartmented on their own individual projects, sharing information only on occasion and rarely outside two or three other people. From what she could deduce, Project Binary was an umbrella code name for a variety of top secret advancements, many of which were either technologically or military related. Every scientist there specialized in their own particular field, making whatever project that was under development exclusive to only a few personnel. The plethora of knowledge in one base was as astounding as it was confusing; all done purposefully.
For the last six years her focus had been on developing a new form of neurological to electronic interface. Such technology was already present in the world, allowing test subjects to control a simple robotic arm using only their brain waves, but the machinery was cumbersome, expensive, and not always responsive.
It was now on the shoulders of three people to take this existing technology and shrink it down to impossible standards, namely the size of an implantable microchip that can be placed into the human nervous system. According to the program director, the development of such advanced interface would have unprecedented medical benefits, allowing literally thousands, if not millions of amputees and physically handicapped people to regain near normal use of their bodies through advanced robotic prosthetics.
Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes for a moment to give them a rest from the artificial light glowing from the screen. Much to her displeasure, by doing so she only revealed to herself just how tired she really was. It felt like every blood vessel running from her eyes to her brain was throbbing, and she could feel herself already beginning to drift off. Shaking herself awake, she sat up and pushed herself away from the desk.
"Done!" she said, throwing her hands in the air in mock surrender.
Making her way over to her nightstand, she grabbed a small remote, clicked a button, and headed to the shared bathroom to get ready to head in for the night. Off in the corner of her cramped room, a CD player switched on and began to play an up tempo electronica beat.
After brushing her teeth and letting her hair out of its bun, she retreated to her room to change. In the process, she found a sudden burst of energy from the music and began swinging her hips to the tempo and lip syncing to the foreign words. In her tired but still focused state of mind, she became lost in an intoxicated trance.
"Enjoying yourself?" came a voice from the doorway.
Spinning around in half-embarrassment, more so from her semi-nude state than being caught, Suzy turned to find Karelia watching her amusingly with a smug smile.
"It looks like you're trying to give a lap dance to a ghost," the redhead teased leaning against the door frame. "That or you're having a seizure."
"It's called raving, Karie." Suzy answered sarcastically, resuming her hip shaking. She was one of, if not the only person who could get away with using a pet name on the normally icy woman. "You should try it sometime. Maybe it'll help you not be such a grump."
"I'll pass," Rizzland replied, crossing her arms. "And I'm only a grump when I'm working or out of smokes."
"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it."
"Not a chance. And what is this 'it' I'm listening to anyways?"
"K-pop!" came an enthusiastic answer.
"K-pop?" the older engineer questioned. "Sounds like a six year old sucking on helium doing karaoke to stripper music. Besides, you're Chinese, not Korean."
"Are you here just to chastise my taste in music?" Suzy questioned, slipping on a loose t-shirt and sweatpants as she turned the stereo down.
"Not particularly," Karelia answered, scanning the adjacent hallway carefully before entering the room.
A worrisome feeling came over Suzy as she watched Rizzland lock the deadbolt to the door and reach into the lab coat she still adorned. Pulling out a small thumb drive, she tossed it over onto the bed.
"What's that?" Suzy questioned.
"A present from Marco," Rizzland answered seriously in a lower volume than normal. "Don't let anyone see it though. Better yet, destroy it when you're done."
Suzy had met Marco only a handful of times during their brief meetings around the base. He was a biologist, although his specialty eluded her. This came as a slight surprise, seeing as how the man was rather impossible to forget. He was an Italian near his late seventies with frizzy snow white hair that he often kept combed back over his head. More often than not he holed himself up inside his room, only exiting on rare occasions or when he was urgently needed by Millson.
To use the words "conspiracy-theorist" and "quack" would have been an understatement in describing Marco. Rumors flew daily about the eccentric foreigner, many of which were only spurred on by the strange man himself. When she had first been introduced, the man went on a half hour rant in fractured English about how Adolf Hitler had faked his death, created a new identity, and was now a wealthy businessman living on a vineyard in Napa Valley, and that was supposedly tame by comparison to his other beliefs.
He was friendly enough, but how he had ended up here instead of a padded room was anyone's guess.
"What is it?" Suzy inquired once more, looking over the simple drive.
"Just look at it," Rizzland replied, more of a demand than a suggestion.
"Can't it wait until tomorrow? I'm trying to go to bed."
"I'd rather you did it now but if you're going to pout like a spoiled brat then fine," she huffed. "I guess humping your invisible boyfriend must have taken more energy than I thought. Take a look at it first thing though and then get rid of it. Come see me when you're done and don't talk to anyone about it."
"Alright, alright."
"Good."
Watching Rizzland take her leave, Suzy opened up the drawer on her nightstand and tucked the thumb drive behind the clutter at the back. It probably wasn't necessary, but she felt better taking the precaution. She would see what all the fuss was about in the morning.
To be continued...
