Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 29 - Surprises and Adjustments (Patreon)

My pursuit of a proper cybernetic suit of armor came from Mira. Or more accurately, her hoverbike. Until that point, I had no idea that external cybernetics even existed, but the moment she explained how it worked, my mind went wild with all the possibilities. But it wasn’t until I started working with Cy that my plans really started coming together.

Patrick Ward

“That’s it?” I asked, looking at the pile of metal, wires, and mechanical parts. I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, and I certainly didn’t think it looked like the precursor to an advanced suit of cybernetic armor.

“Do you have any idea how much work I’ve put into getting it this far?” Patrick asked, rubbing the back of his neck. His hands were covered in black grease, and he’d even picked up a few scrapes on his knuckles. His face was clean, but his neck bore a couple of black smudges. “And we’re still working on integrating those circuits.” He glanced over at Cyrilla, who was bent over a workbench and fiddling with some complex bit of machinery, then added, “Well, Cy is. I’m more of a big picture kind of guy. That detail work just…well, it’s hard for me.”

“It’s the fat sausage fingers, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin.

“My fingers aren’t –”

“It is,” said Cyrilla without looking up.

“But –”

“It’s okay,” I said with mock sincerity. “I still love you even with your horribly bloated fingers.”

He started to respond, but thought better of it. In truth, Patrick’s fingers were normal. Sure, he was a stout guy, and he had hands to match, but it wasn’t like he was deformed or anything. He just didn’t have the dexterity for delicate work like building nearly microscopic circuits from scratch. Not like Cyrilla, whose slim fingers seemed to have been tailor-made for the task.

“Wouldn’t be an issue if we didn’t have to do it all by hand,” he muttered, pointedly low enough that Cyrilla couldn’t hear him from across the shop. “But no – any Mist current – even if it’s not even measurable – could foul the circuits. So…here we are, with me sidelined.”

I glanced at the pile of metal and said, “You seem to be keeping busy.” I reached out to grab a shiny bit of armor plating and asked, “What’s this going to be?”

Before I could finish my question, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. If I’d been in any other company, I probably would have responded with violence, but Patrick had my full trust, so all he got was a glare that made him release me a second later.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just…just don’t touch anything, okay? I have a system.”

I rolled my eyes. As if me touching a bit of armor plating would screw everything up. I had half a mind to touch it anyway, but I restrained my childish impulses and asked, “How big is it going to be? Like, tank sized? Or just people-sized?”

“Uh…somewhere in between,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound very scientific,” I stated.

“I haven’t decided yet. I mean, part of me wants to go as big as possible. You know, a real walking tank. But…there are downsides to that, too,” he explained. Unnecessarily. With my varied combat experience, I certainly didn’t need anyone to explain the pros and cons of heavy armor. “But with a smaller suit, there’s less protection and firepower. So…I’m kind of stuck, you know. I’ve been putting off finalizing the design until the absolute last moment.”

I could understand his hesitation. This was Patrick’s one chance to create something that would put him ahead of everyone else. Neither of us expected that whatever advantage the suit created would last forever. Once we made it off-planet, we’d both have to adapt and grow. But for now, it would let him keep up with me, which seemed very important to his self-esteem.

For my part, I was fine with the way things were. He had his area of expertise – piloting the ship, dealing with various merchants, and keeping me sane – and I had my well-established talent for combat. So, I didn’t feel nearly the same degree of urgency that he did regarding his combat potential.

But then again, maybe it was because I liked knowing that he was weaker than me. Perhaps I liked being the one expected to protect us from outside threats. And maybe I enjoyed his dependence on me. After all, his needing me kept him around, didn’t it?

It didn’t matter if it was true or not – it wasn’t; he could be successful wherever he went. All that really mattered was how it made me feel. And I liked feeling needed. But then again, who doesn’t?

“I don’t know what to tell you, Pick,” I admitted as I leaned over the table and pretended to study the various bits of machinery. I recognized some of it from Patrick’s previous attempts to build various weapons and armor – some of which had been mildly successful, even if he couldn’t see it – but the majority of the pile was completely foreign to me. “That’s something you’re going to have to figure out on your own, I think.”

“What would you do?” he asked. “If I was building this for you, I mean.”

“You’re not, though.”

“But if I was…”

I sighed. “I’d go big,” I stated. “Like, full-on tank sized, with armor as impenetrable as I could make it.”

“And your reasoning?”

I shrugged. “I’m already good at mobility,” I said. “A tank-like suit of armor would fill a niche. Plus, the bigger the suit, the bigger the guns, right? Can you imagine what kinds of guns Gala could sell us if weight wasn’t an issue? It would put the BMAP or the Dragon to shame.”

He sighed. “It’s always about the explosions with you.”

“Not always. Sometimes, it’s about sneaking,” I countered. Then, I added, “But it usually ends with a big explosion, one way or another. I can admit that.”

“You’ve got issues.”

Shrugging again, I said, “My issues keep us alive, so I’ll take it.”

With that, the conversation petered out, and it soon became clear that I’d overstayed my welcome. Certainly, Patrick was fine with having me around, but he obviously wasn’t going to get a lot of work done with me hanging around. For her part, Cyrilla kept cutting her eyes at me when she didn’t think I would notice.

But I noticed. And I stayed for about thirty minutes longer than I really wanted to just to annoy her. It seemed to work, too, so there was that to cheer me up. In the end, I gave one last look around the workshop – it was a spacious room the size of a small warehouse, and it was loaded with all sorts of materials that made it look like a well-organized junkyard to me – and then went on my way.

The moment I left the building, I switched gears and returned my mindset to one appropriate for an active mission. I pushed Patrick and Cyrilla out of my mind and focused on the things I’d discovered during my three-week-long surveillance of the mountaintop city and the fortress-like prison carved into the side of a separate mountain.

Despite spending quite some time observing the two locations, I hadn’t learned all that much new information. But there were a few tidbits I’d picked up – like the fact that there was at source of new recruits. It seemed that the Pacificians had a presence in other cities in addition to their operation in Fortune. I wasn’t sure how useful that piece of intelligence really was.

What was useful was my observation of the various defenses in play. The Mist shields were almost identical, and though they were powerful, I felt confident that I could bypass them. However, I knew almost nothing about what lay inside either settlements’ walls, and so, I couldn’t make many plans to counter whatever other defenses they’d managed to erect.

For all I knew, once I bypassed the Mist shields and the guards, I’d be completely free to explore to my heart’s content. But for some reason, I didn’t think that would be the case. I wasn’t dealing with a human-run city like Biloxi or Nova. These settlements had been built and were run by a race of powerful aliens; it would be the height of foolishness to assume that their defenses wouldn’t be far more advanced than anything humans could create.

So, with that in mind, I decided that my best path forward was to return to its beginning. My reasoning was simple. The Pillar of Heaven headquarters had to at least appear to have been built by humans, and as such, any defenses would be hamstrung by the need to maintain appearances. I hoped that that would give me an opportunity to slip through the cracks and gather more intelligence on the pair of settlements I’d found in the mountains.

To that end, I soon found myself leaning against a wall a block or so away from the building question. It looked much the same as it had when I’d attempted an infiltration a few weeks before. They hadn’t even increased the guard presence, much less implemented any new defenses. Still, I chose to take things slow and continue my surveillance through the night and a few hours into the next day.

Even so, my cautious approach bore no fruit. So, after cataloguing a new identity based on one of the guards, I retreated to a small market I’d seen on the way in. There, I spent way too long looking for a seamstress that could sew a set of blue robes styled after the ones worn by the Pacifician guards. Thankfully, the woman had some sort of skill that got the work done in only a few more hours. In the interim, I acquired some more rags and stored another identity for my infiltration.

The way I saw it, my first attempt at infiltrating the headquarters of the Pillar of Heaven had gone wrong for two reasons. First, I had underestimated them. That wasn’t going to happen again, especially now that I knew I was dealing with alien androids that were connected to a hive mind. Second, I’d wandered around like a lost idiot, trusting my skills to protect me from detection. This time, I would be far more focused. That would be helped along by the fact that I knew the building’s layout, and I had an idea of where I needed to go.

Was it a perfect plan? No. There were plenty of dangers that largely stemmed from the reality of my ignorance. I had no real notion of the Pacificians’ capabilities, and so, I could only trust that my own skills and preparations would keep them in the dark. However, even if my attempts at espionage were to fail, I had plenty of contingency plans upon which I could call. I just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

However, as confident as I was in my plan, I spent another day waiting for the perfect moment. I wasn’t in any hurry, after all. Patrick had barely scratched surface of his own project, and so, there was nothing urgent about my mission.

Except maybe the fate of Cyrilla’s brother, which if I was honest, didn’t really rank very high on my list of concerns. Sure, if he could be saved, I would save him, but I’d only agreed to try to find him so that Patrick could get what he needed from his former teacher-slash-girlfriend.

That last bit brought a twinge of annoyance and jealousy with it. Here I was dressed in rags and pretending to be a dirty junkie while Cyrilla was doubtless trying to once again insinuate herself into Patrick’s life. Maybe even steal him away. I trusted him. I really did. But I definitely didn’t trust her.

My only hope was that he’d aged out of her tastes, which, judging by her past and present partners, trended toward the younger side of things.

Damned cradlerobber.

I pushed those intrusive thoughts out of my mind – or at least into a back corner where I hoped they would stay – and rose from the concealed alley in which I’d been squatting for the past couple of days. Wearing the face of a haggard addict, I garnered little notice as I ambled across the street – nearly getting hit by one of those automatic rickshaws along the way. I slurred a few curses at the driverless carriage, but quickly moved, mumbling to myself about “damn robots”.

I got a few sideways glances, but that was the point. I’d tried skating in under the radar; now, I was going in another direction. I wanted attention. I wanted people to look at me and feel pity. Or frustration. Disgust, perhaps. If all they saw was an old addict, they wouldn’t suspect my real mission.

I continued to stumble down the sidewalk, and the other pedestrians gave me a wide berth. Perhaps that was the odor; I’d taken quite some time to make certain that I smelled the part. It was disgusting, especially when I flared Observation, but I knew it was a necessary facet of the disguise.

I approached the entrance without hesitation, and when I reached the door, I gave the blonde-haired, blue-robed guard a glare and demanded, “Heard you got free food here, yeah?”

“We do,” she said with a forced smile, but I noticed the slightest crinkle to her perfect nose. Not even androids were immune to the smell I had created, it seemed. Good. That made the disguise that much more believable. After all, the streets were a dirty place, and addicts weren’t exactly known for their hygiene. “And showers, too. Fresh clothing as well.”

“You sayin’ I stink?” I demanded, thrusting my head into her face. To her credit, she maintained her placid expression. “I smell like petunias! Everybody says so!”

“Okay. No showers or fresh clothes, then. But food is available,” she said, gesturing to the door. “Go right ahead. You’ll see the signs.”

I thought about telling her I couldn’t read, but I didn’t want to push things too far. Instead, I just nodded curtly – which came off as more pronounced than it should have been – before strolling through the door. I gave a little stumble, just to sell the disguise a little more.

Of course, that’s when everything went wrong.

My fake stumble turned into the real thing as I collided with something solid. Blue light flashed in front of me as I caught my balance, and I wheeled around to run the other way. I didn’t really know what was happening, but I’d told myself that, at the first sign of trouble, I would retreat.

The Pacificians had no intention of accommodating my plan, though, because I soon ran into another blue Mist shield. I twisted around, searching for a way out, but I found nothing. I was hemmed in by the room’s entryway’s thick walls, Mist shields on the other two sides, and a ceiling high enough I couldn’t reach it. They had created a prison from which I couldn’t escape.

“We knew you would return,” bragged the blonde guard I’d just spoken to. She had her weapon trained on me. She was joined by her partner as the door slammed shut. On the other side, three more guards approached, their rifles trained on my position.

“How did you know?” I asked, dropping my act. Mimic remained in place, though. I still had no intention of letting them see my real face. Not unless forced to do so, which seemed increasingly likely unless I did something drastic.

That also felt more and more likely with each passing second.

“Recalibration of the Mist shield,” she bragged. “A routine adjustment meant to counter spies like you.”

I’d always known that Mist shields were far more versatile than most people suspected. For instance, the Leviathan’s shields could be adjusted in a wide variety of ways – most of which seemed useless except in very specific scenarios. So, I should have expected that the advanced Pacificians would be capable of something similar. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they’d adjusted their own Mist shield to detect the use of skills like Mimic.

It was just one more reminder that my place on Earth wasn’t indicative of my standing in the wider universe. I had skills, and I was capable enough, but when it came to advanced alien civilizations, I wasn’t anything special. Not yet. I had potential, though, and I intended to see it reached.

The android raised a collar I recognized all too well from my own training. I used one just like the silvery hoop to restrict my attributes and skills so that I could get the most out of my physical regimen. So, I knew just how effective something like that could be.

“Resist, and we will kill you,” she said.

Then her partner added, “Cooperate, and you will live.”

Still another voice came from behind me, “You will be a strong addition to the population.”

That was definitely not going to happen. I didn’t care how good their people had it; I wasn’t going to give up my identity or freedom.

Fortunately, I hadn’t spent the past three weeks idle. In addition to my surveillance, I’d spent quite some time working on my Ghosts. Specifically, Robot Disposal, which still hadn’t gotten a new name. And the moment I’d been trapped, I’d used Misthack to tear through their systems and infect them with the latest iteration of the Ghost.

I’d rebuilt the Ghost from the ground up, and though I’d had to make some sacrifices in terms of its lethality, I was very happy with how it had turned out. The idea behind it was simple. Whereas the last version of the Ghost was meant to “kill” hostile robots, the newest iteration was intended to simply disable them.

Permanently.

This was accomplished by severing the tiny connections throughout the robotic body. It wouldn’t kill them. I didn’t have the Mist for that. Instead, it would make sending information – specifically, commands – from the brain to the rest of the body impossible. At best, those commands would be garbled and result in unintended movement. At worst, they would become paralyzed.

As I completed the process of uploading the Ghost into the last android, I hoped for the latter. Then, I activated it.

At first, the blonde android’s fingers twitched, and after a moment, she dropped the collar. Then, the twitching became a seizure, and she fell to the floor. That’s when she started screaming.

After all, the Ghost was intended for use on robots. But in every one of those androids was a sentient mind. And apparently, judging by those screams, losing control of one’s body was a horrifying experience.

I ignored them, instead targeting a nearby security terminal that I hoped was meant to control the Mist shield. It was precisely what I was looking for, and even as those androids were continually beset by seizures – those weren’t going to stop anytime soon, if ever – I ripped through the terminal’s defenses and deactivated my cage. For good measure, I took down the cameras in the area, too. The Pacificians were smart, though. It was a closed, compartmentalized system, so the terminal was only connected to the immediate surroundings. If I wanted to affect wider changes, I would have to find another node. Still, for now, I was safe.

Once I was done with the security terminal, I disconnected and looked around. The lobby was deserted – everyone but the guards had fled the moment the cage had gone up – and so, I was free to leave if I wanted to. However, that wouldn’t advance my plans, so I discarded that notion.

Instead, I used Mimic to adopt a new appearance and changed into the blue robes I’d had commissioned. Like that, I headed deeper into the headquarters in search of answers.