CyberCinder
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Chapter 350: Catch a Ride to Paradise
🕑 Added 2025-10-10 11:34:24 +0000 UTCThe ruins of my old home stretch for miles and miles. Not a day’s work has been done on them since I left, but the caution tape and countless military-lite barricades at all the entrances says something important’s still here. I crack the knuckles on my right hand as I stare down at my Class Card, waiting for the message to come in from someone I owe a favor to. And vice-versa.
“Two days? That’s all we could manage?” Jumble grumbles from where she picks at the rubble of my old apartment. “I barely got to eat any of your food, or read any of your books. Do you actually need me here, anyway?”
“Nope,” I shake out my hand and turn to look at her. “Just wanted you here.”
Jumble makes a cute noise in her throat and stops complaining. Truth is I do sort of need her here, but not for any of the reasons I’m waiting for. There are living machines down underneath our feet, hollowing out the city as we wait for my informant to arrive. Jumble might not be a shellraiser, but her and Illumisia working together might be able to make this place safe-ish. And get a lot of research material from the dead machines.
My Class Card clinks like a coin falling to a metal table. I glance down at it, but it’s just a live update on the city from Quest–which it is apparently fine with being called permanently. It isn’t comfortable leaving the city as of yet, but that didn’t stop it from installing something in all of our Class Cards that gives us a direct line to each other.
Sort of like a messenger, except it’s always listening–and making sure that the system can’t look in on the conversations. I can’t see the convenience of it yet, since we’ve managed fine so far, but it persisted and I didn’t care enough to argue.
“They’ve already managed to find a dozen new intelligent constructs,” I relay to Jumble, who didn’t even pull out her card at the sound. “Looks like a few of them were merchants themselves who stockpiled old stuff away before they were turned into constructs. With March’s help, we might be able to bring some ancient strains of plants back to life.”
Jumble hums in thought and holds a shred of cloth up to her face. She wrinkles her nose and shoves it back under the stone she pulled it from. There’s a part of her that’s listening to me, but another part is quietly whispering ideas for her next book under her breath as she rummages around stuff that almost looks like what I couldn’t take with me. I shrug and go back to watching my Class Card for messages.
Minutes tick by. Jumble’s rough outline transitions into a solid idea, with new characters that are obviously based on the people we’ve been with for the last three months. She doesn’t kill off the characters she named her constructs after, though. They still get to have adventures in their own world, free from the pain they caused and endured in the city. Dani does get beat up a little more than the others, though.
A lot more, actually. Almost like Jumble holds a grudge against him for some reason.
“You know, I almost wondered if she was actually an author, but I think this proves it,” Pearl says inside of my mind. “Nobody else could ignore you while listening to you and also creating an entire story in their head. I wonder if the system would let her sell the next book in her series.”
Honestly, I wonder why the system let her sell any books at all. There’s no way it didn’t know her connection to the series. Maybe it just didn’t care. I look down at my Class Card again in thought and absentmindedly reach up to fiddle with Fleur’s brooch. It tingles with salty magic now that I’m back on Earth, and I can feel Fleur’s mind through the piece of jewelry. Just like I can feel Quest through its earrings that it still won’t let me see the entire description of.
Finally, a normal message pings into my inbox. I swipe away Quest’s updates and scroll over to the message, skim it quickly with my eyes, and nod to myself. Pearl crosses her arms and frowns, but doesn’t say anything. I know why; the message sounds completely out of place. Which just means the sender is being watched right now and can’t risk giving away our little arrangement.
I walk up to Jumble and pat her on the shoulder. “My contact’s going to be here in less than a minute. Do you have Agathe’s clothes on?”
She tugs at the collar of her colourful shirt, revealing a tight silken bodysuit underneath. I stare down at her for… a little longer than I’d like to admit. Not quite used to actually being attracted to people like this, but, uh, I picked a damn good one to start with. Jumble grins and releases her shirt, letting it fall back against her body as she spins and pulls me into a hug. I return it happily as Illumisia shimmers into being at my side.
“Preservation troops are gathering at one of the exits; they are expecting that you will leave the same way you came in,” she says with a nod down one of the streets. “They must be aware of your relocation abilities, yet still think that they can stop you with a blockade. That bothers me.”
“Might not be a blockade; they might be mobilizing to actually attack us. We need to keep you a secret for now, and if we can, keep the information about every non-human here as controlled as we can. Every minute they’re looking into that is a minute they’re not looking for me.”
Illumisia nods in understanding. “Jumble and I will scour this place for useful materials. Whatever you plan on doing, do not make any attempts at the speakers without significant backup. From what the shopkeeper tells me, they are a more significant threat than they appear.”
“You don’t have to tell me. Now get going, you two,” I say as I break Jumble’s hug and gently push her towards Illumisia. “Clutter should be down there scoping things out already; meet up with him and you’ll be done in no time. Us three will take everything from here.”
I raise my hand to touch Fleur’s brooch for emphasis. Jumble blows me a kiss as she turns to leave, then crackles with staticky words that whisper far more powerfully than anything she’d done in the city. The pair of shark-wolves take off down the street and disappear into a massive sinkhole before I can get another word in. My awareness trails them through a half-collapsed tunnel until that, too, stops feeling them.
“Are you sure he’s not compromised?” Pearl asks. “I know what the messages have said, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t compromised.”
“No idea, honestly. If he is, though, then I just relocate away. Or, if we think we can fight, we bring in Fleur. Anything else is just speculation, and until then, I’m choosing to look on the bright side.”
Pearl laughs and shakes her head. “I can’t argue with that. But can you argue with the massive robot that just crawled out of a hole in the sky?”
I look up at exactly that–a hole in the sky, leaking like a drainpipe, filled with a massive robot that’s standing at the entrance like a bouncer. One of my relocations hangs heavy in my mind, ready to be called on at a moment’s notice. Illumisia will keep Clutter and Jumble safe. The only one I have to look out for is myself.
The robot raises a hand to its chest. A compartment hisses open with a blast of frigid air, revealing two armored figures–one attached to so many wires and glittering lights that it can’t move–and the other completely uninhibited. Even from so far away, I can tell that the free one is who I’m waiting for. Either he decided to catch the least subtle ride I’ve ever seen, or he’s desperate to keep his cover.
My Class Card pings with a message as he steps down, card just barely visible in his hand. I flick it open and check the contents. It’s an evacuation order. People trapped under some rubble that’ve been surviving for weeks. Unsure if any are still alive. All bullet points, all extremely impersonal, and all plausibly deniable that it was sent to literally everyone in this place’s vicinity.
“I think it’s both,” I say and send my Class Card away. “Let’s hope Agathe’s clothes are as good as she claims, especially now that Sami’s helping out.”
I drop to my knees and shove aside a boulder the size of a small car. Underneath is a hole just big enough for a few people to sit inside, and inside of that is a small stash of supplies that I had Illumisia put there yesterday just in case things went sideways. Almost feels prescient now. I pull Agathe’s underlayer over my mouth and nose, feel as it sticks to my skin, and motion for Pearl to give me a little help.
She leans out of my head–a very strange sensation to be sure, and a very new one–and places two simple drops of Shellraiser fluid on my hand. I blink hard and press them to my eyes, wince as they spread over everything, and try to ignore the sensation of them physically latching onto the surface of my eyes. Once they stop squirming I blink a few times to make sure the full-eye contacts are lodged firmly in place, then hold up the back of my card to see my reflection. Normal, nondescript brown eyes stare back at me.
Pearl coughs to get my attention and motions to the plate on the side of my head. I raise my hand to it and cover it with a little more of the shellraiser stuff as she ducks back in. They’ll be looking for a shell, especially since the horizonguard definitely shared information about Pearl’s real identity with the Preservation. This much is probably overkill, but with my teeth, bite marks, and eyes properly covered, there’s little chance I’ll be recognized on sight.
For psychics, though? I just have to hope a little purification will do the trick, even if that makes them suspicious that they can’t read my thoughts. After this I’ll put some real time into better anti-psychic methods, but for right now, I need to set up some relocation coins in Preservation headquarters with my own two hands. If this scene from my contact is anything to go by, I’m making the right choice.
“He’s getting close,” Pearl whispers, though there’s no need. “Pull the rock over you.”
I nod and lean down in the hole, stuff most of the supplies into a pack, and rub dust all over myself to really sell the ‘stuck for weeks’ aspect of my cover. A muffled man’s voice slowly grows in the distance, calling loud and clear that he’s here for any survivors. I close my eyes, visualize what someone in the position I’m pretending to be in would act like, and clear my throat.
“HELP!” I scream in as low and scratchy a voice as possible.
Pearl stifles a laugh. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
“I never said I was a good actor. HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE, I’M STARVING!”
The rock above me starts to shake, and with a titanic grunt, an armored figure comes into view. He stares down at me for a long second, obviously unsure of what he’s seeing, then gingerly reaches down and offers me a hand.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Can you walk?” he asks seriously. “Have you seen a… woman… around here? With interesting tattoos?”
I shake my head and cough. “No. You got water?”
He reaches back and pulls a water bottle out of his inventory. “Here, ma’am. Are… are there any more of you? I didn’t really expect to find any survivors down here.”
I snatch the bottle from his hands and shove it against my bodysuit, forcing the liquid through the fabric with the kind of desperation I think someone in this situation would show. He watches silently as more dribbles down my neck than actually goes into my mouth, obvious confusion growing by the second. Then he shakes his head, takes off his helmet, and leans down with his eyebrows knit tight.
“I don’t have visual tracing on right now,” Call–my contact in the Preservation–whispers. “So I can’t tell if you’re the person I’m looking for or not. Um… are you?”
I grin wide and pull down the bodysuit over my teeth. Call’s eyes go wide, but there’s more relief than anything in there. I quickly pull the bodysuit back up and replace my expression with one of exhaustion.
“Is there anyone else that needs to be saved?” I ask, hidden meanings dripping in my voice.
Call nods and drops two coins at my feet. “I can’t sense anyone but you nearby. We’ve had a few casualties in the last few weeks ourselves, so I know what it’s like.”
I snatch the coins with a nod and send them to my inventory. “Take me to safety?”
A grin that mirrors my own spreads across Call’s face as he puts the mask back on. “Nowhere’s safe these days, ma’am. But we’re doing our best to change that, aren’t we?”
Distant, quiet cheers erupt through a tiny crack that he left in his helmet. I can’t help but laugh at the misunderstanding on the other side of those comms. Today begins the downfall of the Preservation, whether they know it or not.
The only question that remains is how long it’ll take them to fall.
