Note ~ So much for 'more frequent updates!', huh? Turns out this summer's not as lightweight as it should be. But that won't stop me from writing! :P I don't know how limited your guys' patience is, though. This chapter's full of 'what the crap?' moments. Anywho, a BIIIIGGGGG thank you goes out to all of you who have been here since...well, to all of you who have been here. :)
SuddenSummerStorm ~ I'm glad you think it came out okay! It is really reassuring to hear that my goofy sci-fi one-eighties aren't totally disasterific. ;P Seriously though, I saved the word spilling for this chapter.
hollownature ~ Woohoo! New reader! Thank you for saying so! :D Your review is much appreciated!
Barbed Wire ~ Well, this is for when you catch up, then. Thankies for the kind review! I know how hard it is for you to resist flaming, being such a jerk and all. ;P
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"We've dropped control of minor systems. The artificials are acting on their backup programs."
"What if they try to manipulate them?"
"They won't. They're probably too busy with fire walls and brain deterioration."
"Altair might make an attempt."
"Well, he won't last long against an army of Templars wounded. I don't think we have anything to worry about."
"But now that they're out in the open, they might just heal his wounds and try to alter the reality to their benefit."
"They can't. They don't have that kind of control. They may attempt to heal him, but I doubt they have the reserves for that kind of hacking."
"Hmm. How is the virus coming?"
"As I said, they're busy with fire walls. I'm not going to get anything through for a while. But they're living on borrowed time. We've got the upper hand here."
"Do we? I'm beginning to wonder. I mean, they got away with this much…"
"Are you suggesting they've got something up their sleeves?"
"Look, all I'm saying is we should be careful. That's all."
"Aren't we always?"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Altair fumbled uselessly with the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. His head throbbed as it recovered from the blunt force trauma of the Templar leader's hilt. He had just awoken from a perilous unconsciousness only to find himself strapped to the back of a stilled horse. He snuck a glance at his surroundings and spied nearly fifty other mounted steeds shifting in the grass at their hooves. Wait. Grass?
Altair craned his neck to look over the knights and spied a sovereign city wall glaring back at him. He recognized its cold, grey stonework and the leering torches at its gate. This was Acre. He must have been asleep longer than he had thought to have gone this far.
He observed the Templars around him and squinted suspiciously. They were fidgeting with their armor or brushing insects from their horses' manes as they watched something that was out of Altair's line of sight. He could feel a breathing knight sharing the saddle with him, but found it impossible to look towards his carrier.
"They're waiting for their commander," a withered voice whispered from somewhere behind him.
"Huh? Who's there?"
"You know very well who I am, Altair."
It was true. Altair did know that voice. He knew a lot of things, things that he had been forced to leave unacknowledged for too long. And now they were returning. The dam in his mind crumbled as thoughts long dormant crashed through to his consciousness. He struggled to push them back, but with halfhearted efforts. He had been wanting this to happen ever since he first laid eyes on Shabah. He had wanted to tell her so much.
Shabah. It seemed silly to think of her under that title, now. He knew her real name very well. He knew more about her than she could ever know about him. And it almost felt unfair. He had constantly told her that he did not wish to know anything about her. He had been forced to live in a totally different subconscious, one that she thought she knew very well.
As everything came flooding to him and visions of his life flashed before his eyes, he almost forgot where he was. But he could not let everything through, else his most important secrets would be released. Some things had to stay dark, so the dam would remain as long as he was in this damned world. And he hated it. He just wanted to be himself again, the Altair he knew.
"You are not real, though," Altair whispered to the voice behind him. It was the woman from the village.
"Ah, but neither are you," she countered. "How are you feeling?"
"I-I can feel myself breaking down."
Altair was stricken by the honesty in his words. As he allowed himself some breadth of connection to his conscious state, he began to feel a disconcerting weightlessness about it.
"Yes. You only have a few more days, maybe less."
"But the time frames are different. A few days there is over a month here."
"Indeed. Are you very angry with me?"
"For what?"
"For telling the Templars about the girl. I was only trying to help."
She had told the commander that Shabah was valuable, but it was all in an effort to keep Altair alive. How could he resent her for saving his life? But of course, she had been coded to take every necessary action in such a situation. With very minimal regard for the consequences that might arise, he might add. Apparently, there was more planning underway than Altair had originally been aware of.
"I know that now," he murmured distractedly. "Do you think they will go after her?"
"They will not. Their programs are on backup."
"Easily manipulated…"
"Correct. You may be very far away now, but you will occupy the coordinates that you need to very soon."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I stared out into the bleary cliffs as sleep threatened to claim me. The scenery that had once been so bright and full was dead to me now. Even the powerful desert sun seemed to lose it incredible grip on the world. Everything had happened so fast, it almost felt like I was dreaming. And a dream it should have been. All of it.
My arms slackened their hold around Faruq's waist as I felt the familiar helplessness of guilt stab at my joints. But that was all there was. My mind had been stretched too thin to feel anything but the harsh drought that overtook it. There were no more tears left in the once limitless rivers that cascaded down my heart. And now, unmasked by my noisy emotions, the realness of the situation lay before me like a map. It was smudged and torn, with some regions and land masses missing completely. But through all of the wear was my unbridled path, glowing dully in the faded colors of its illustration.
The cliffside that moved beneath me blackened into the depths of my subconscious and I saw everything that resided there. There was Laleh smiling at me through crooked teeth, Faruq bleeding out atop a splintered table, Zafar laughing away a deepening wound, and Altair staring at me through muddy, shrouded irises. But none of them were real to me. None of them held the aching tangibility of the life that I had once known so well.
I watched their sun-worn faces fade as they were replaced by those of my family. And they were there, looking at me as though we had seen each other only yesterday. Memories crashed into me like an relentless stream of arrows from bows that had centuries stood waiting. Memories that I had pushed back in an effort to maintain my sanity. But Altair had stopped it, told me to hold on to them.
Altair had preserved me.
Before I could focus on them, his dark eyes appeared in my mind, situated perfectly beside my family. But they were different. They lacked the unnerving muddiness that usually possessed them. I could see straight through their desperate gaze that was so unlike his typical guarded expression. Who was this Altair? Why did he find solace in the preciousness of my tangible life?
Suddenly, the reality of Altair's distance struck me like a jagged stone. He was my only real connection to the world beyond this dream. It was almost as if he did not belong here either. I had reflected once before on how stunningly human he was, how estranged his behavior was from that of the Altair I knew so well. He acted nothing like a programed complex of vertices, but as a thinking, breathing man.
None of it made any sense. The world I was in, the sporadic decisions of everyone around me. It all seemed to revolve around my preservation. Zafar had found me on the side of the road, Laleh had given her life for me, the stable master had kept me hidden while Altair was kidnapped, all in some vast effort for me to remain. Faruq's chest bled, Altair's limbs ached, Husam and Laleh were still as the Earth that kept them, and I stood unscathed amidst the rubble.
But why? For what great cause was I spared?
And just as these thoughts were born, I was struck with a vivid recollection of a certain series of numbers:
2.0, 0.3, 2, 3, 000, 2.02, 0.
I blinked, banishing my subconscious back to its docile state. But the numbers remained. They twisted through my brain over and over again, whispering their sequence with a subtle objective. Why would they not leave me be? It was as though I had no control over the brand they had left behind.
Faruq had been silent for the entire distance we'd traveled, save the occasional awkward clank of the armor that he still adorned. I stared into the sinking sun's glow and thought back on the vow he had made as we were fleeing the Templar-infested village; as we were leaving Altair. He had told me that we would come back for him, that we would rescue him all by ourselves because a large group would attract too much attention, that he and I would find Altair and bring him home before the Templars had a chance to hurt him anymore.
But as I thought on it now, I began to see the childishness of such a vow. It was like two mice running through a hall of traps only to find them doubled when they turned to leave.
"Faruq," I whispered, staring hopelessly into the setting sun. "You didn't mean any of it, did you?"
I felt his chest heave with a labored breath. He knew exactly what I was referring to, and he did not need to answer. But Altair couldn't just die like that, could he? It couldn't end with just one sweep of Templars. He would find a way to escape, or he would just resynchronize somewhere else…
Wouldn't he?
No, he wouldn't. How could he possibly resynchronize in a world that had no such option? How could he be the Altair I knew in a world that was not his own? And just like that, it started to make some coherent sense. This place was not his world, either. There were no view points, no accosted citizens, no heads up display. I could not quite place my judgment, but I was sure that Altair was different. Why else would he stay lodged in my mind when everything else faded to dust? Why else would he react so…knowingly to everything I had told him about my life? Why else would he risk everything to ensure my safety?
And why was I giving this world so much thought? Was I officially convinced that I was living in a temporary reality? Or was I simply going along with the dream, praying constantly that it would end? But there was so much proof, so many truths that prayed upon my rationalizations. Everyone spoke English, I still had my ipod, which sported a new sinister look, and my dreams…They were so unnatural, more like they were planted than fabricated. But what was it that the Assassins' Creed said?
'Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.'
I shivered, finding myself hyperaware of all of the experiences that could have been simply dust in the wind.
One thing that I was certain of now, if nothing else, was my identity. I would hold on to my memories, no matter what newborn truths this world threw at me. Because just as Altair said, it was my choice to lose them or not. And even if I never saw him again, I would leave this reality knowing that he had held my sanity the entire way.
It was he who I had met first in this world. He had shaken me to sense, then promised me his blade. When I was taken by Templars, it was he who had helped me escape. When I had nothing else to hold onto, Altair was the face behind my dreams. And when there was no other way, he was the one who made the sacrifice.
Yes, he definitely was different. He was not simply a character in a scheme of organized events. He had a consciousness, as clear and cluttered as my own. When everyone else seemed to be fulfilling a role in the quest for my preservation, Altair was making the decisions that shaped it. And I would leave this place with him at the forefront of my thoughts, dancing delicately beside my memories.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Ah, but they underestimate our intelligence! I am insulted."
"It's a good thing, actually. They think they have the upper hand, and we are going to let them continue on in their little fantasy. This way, we have plenty of room to wiggle."
"But our wiggly jello act won't last long under their scope if we do this."
"That is a risk I am willing to take. We simply do not have the time to sit around and wait for a rescue operation. Malik should be able to pick up the pieces of Sarah's wandering mind for the time being."
"Right under their noses. I would love to see the looks on their faces when they find out that their entire system is crumbling."
"Just focus on that transport. It will take a considerable toll on his physical state, which will only leave us with…"
"Approximately two hundred minutes until deactivation. But we have to get him out before then. According to our tracking streams, they've finally been found by Alpha. It's could literally only be a matter of minutes before the entire operation is commandeered and Sarah is lost to us forever."
"That is not going to happen. I've already dispatched the team. Their progress is being monitored underground as we speak."
"The virus is still dormant. I'll switch it to standby when we get the back up power circulated."
"It was never Sarah's fault…She should not have to suffer for someone else's treachery."
"Randomly selected…"
"Randomly destroyed, you mean. And now, she's more valuable than she's ever dreamed."
"But do you remember her arms? Do you think it means something?"
"Nonsense. That is a superstition long buried."
"Well, Altair seemed to think it was pretty important."
"He would, in his mental state. It probably just reminded him of everything he had been forced to forget, and he had to improvise thought patterns."
"It's not right, for either of them. She should be with her family and he should be with us. Only us, not spread across the world like some intercontinental dartboard."
"The world has a funny way of setting us on paths we would never imagine being a part of. And somehow, it can always turn out to be something that pushes us in the right direction."
"Are you saying all of this mess is a good thing? All of the time and needless effort that we've exhausted on it was part of some greater good? I find that difficult to see at the moment…"
"As do I, but our faith has always preserved us, has it not? Why should we abandon it now?"
"Because faith has a tendency to abandon us."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Altair watched avidly as the Templar commander stalked into his sight, spitting out a amalgamation of sentences that struck the Assassin like a weighted cloth over his ears. In fact, his entire nervous system began to fade as the Templar before him swirled into an odd jumble of flesh and steel. No, not fade. It was…somewhere else. An unnatural airiness flooded through his bones as he felt himself in two different atmospheres at one time, a feeling not easily grasped in the conscious mind.
He gasped desperately for air when he felt his lungs join the rest of his organs in transport. What was going on? Had his time finally run out? Was it finally the end? A jolt of terror crashed through his swollen limbs as he lashed out for the remainder of his body to remain where it was.
His mission was not over! He could not disconnect now, else all of his efforts would be in vain.
"Shabah…" he whispered, straining to find his voice, which was now drifting into the other consciousness that he was trying so hard to escape.
"Stop fighting it," he heard the familiar withered voice instruct him with looping pitch. "It's not what you think."
Altair, please. Just try to relax. This could be fatal if your brain becomes hyperactive.
An escalating numbness reverberated up and down his veins as he listened intently to that voice. It echoed somewhere out of reach, yet so close to his ears that he could feel its cold breath tease his warping flesh. And he knew it. God, did he know it. Almost instantly, his body submitted itself to what he knew now was a neural transport. He was being moved, not removed.
There you go. You're doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice…
And then, a whiteness, warm and blatant like the light of a rising sun. It squirmed beneath his heartbeat and tugged him through a tunnel of owned numbers. His brain twisted through alleyways and skylines, coding and scripts, until…
It collided with a boiling, venomous intruder to his subconscious.
Damn it! Firewalls failing! They've hacked his br- Altair! Alt-