CD & EA 1.24 - A More Peaceful Dream

Enjoy!

Happy to hear feedback, as always :)

Victor 3.30 coming in an hour or two.

-Plum

“So far, I don’t see any movement down there,” Hot Mustard said through their comms. He was lying flat on his belly in the sand, having inched his way through and beneath a large pile of wind-blown tumbleweeds. Juliet knew they had little thorns on them, but he’d carefully wormed between gaps in the plants, and now he was all but invisible, peering down the last stretch of open wash to the enormous underpass.

He’d shared his view with them all, so they could see what he saw on their AUIs. The sandy wash led down to a broad concrete expanse with steep slopes leading up to the big, defunct freeway above. Furniture and vehicles littered the area near and under the bridge, and smoke trailed up into the evening gloom from camp or bonfires, the flames of which were obscured by the debris.

As the sun sank and the shadows lengthened, Juliet could see the fires’ orange light dancing on the concrete slopes through Hot Mustard's camera feed. “Looks like they're either hiding, sleeping, or off trying to eat someone else,” Ghoul’s voice said in her ear.

“Yeah, let’s edge forward, huh?” Corbitt’s voice said. He looked toward Juliet like she was in charge somehow. Ghoul surprised her by also looking to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Right. Ghoul, you take point. We need to get underground to the left side of the underpass; look for a door, tunnel, or something.”

“Roger. Mustard and Corbitt, take rear flanks—don’t let anything jump Juliet.” With that, Ghoul was gone, moving like a slinking shadow through the sand toward the rusted-out remnants of a pickup truck that had clearly been shot hundreds of times. Juliet followed her and heard the rustling sound of Hot Mustard as he wormed his way out of the tumbleweeds and shuffled over the sand to her right. Corbitt moved off to the left.

Juliet followed Ghoul from cover to cover, always staying one stop behind, waiting for the woman to lift her hand, the one not holding a stun baton, and motion her forward. They were out of the thick sand of the wash and slinking through the concrete underpass when Juliet slid to a halt behind a rotten old couch. She inched her head over the top to see where Ghoul’s next stop would be, and she caught sight of the first group of dreamers.

They were standing around a big fire—mesquite branches, tires, pieces of furniture, and various other trash smoldering in a pile—and swaying in a strange, rhythmic pattern. Their weird, writhing, blue-lit eyes were visible in the evening light, standing out for being brighter than the fire.

“The fuck is going on with their eyes?” Ghoul asked in comms.

“It’s the neural nanofilaments from their PAIs. The program they’ve been running makes them grow way out of spec,” Juliet subvocalized before she thought better of it. Heat flushed the back of her neck as she imagined her three team members looking at her and wondering how the hell she’d known that.

“Fucking-A,” Hot Mustard’s voice said after a brief pause, “I didn’t know those things could grow. Do we need to be running some kinda ICE to avoid infection?”

“Uh,” Juliet answered, realizing she didn’t know. “Angel?”

“Tell your teammates that if they have any local wireless connections, they should disable them. Tell them to disable any sat-net connections other than the one to our team channel.”

“Good question, Hot Mustard,” Juliet subvocalized, then she passed along Angel’s instruction. “Once I install my program, we should be good, but better safe than sorry.”

“You all got that? Ports secure?” Ghoul prompted.

“Secure,” Corbitt replied.

“Secure,” Hot Mustard echoed.

“Okay, we need to neutralize this pack. There’s a tunnel entrance on the north side about twenty meters ahead of me. We’ll need to shove an old dumpster aside, so I don’t want these guys on our six.” Ghoul’s voice was calm and steady, and Juliet felt happy to have her taking point.

“Roger,” Hot Mustard said.

“Mustard, drop as many as possible, starting with the outside right. Corbitt, you got my left flank. I’ll go up the middle. Juliet, keep cover and be ready to assist.”

“Got it,” Juliet said, her heart starting to pound in her chest. She lifted the gun she’d taken from the dead corpo-sec agent and held it to her shoulder. She was just about to ask Angel if there was anything she needed to know about it when her PAI spoke up.

“That weapon has a biometric lock on the trigger. Connect your hardline, and I’ll clear it and set up your permissions.”

“Right,” Juliet said in a shaky whisper, quickly pulling the data jack out of her arm and plugging it into the port on the side of the weapon. After it clicked home, she watched over the top of the old couch as Ghoul crouched, like a football running back, ready to spring and Corbitt and Hot Mustard moved into position.

“All set, Juliet. I wiped the identifying data and programmed the trigger for your print. The gun is a Hershel Company variant of the venerable MP5. It has a forty-round magazine, and the onboard system is reporting thirty-two rounds remaining. The weapon is off-safety, and a round is in the chamber. I’ve updated your AUI.”

“Thanks,” Juliet replied, noting the new crosshair and ammo counter at the center of her vision. She didn’t want to shoot the weapon—they weren’t trying to kill dreamers that night, but she wanted to be ready in case things went to hell. She’d barely had time for that thought when Ghoul leaped into action, and whizzing *clicks* from her right told her Hot Mustard had begun taking shots.

Two dreamers thrashed on the ground from Hot Mustard’s shock rounds before Ghoul closed the distance. Then her friend was dancing among the remaining four dreamers, her stun baton whipping through the air and sending the swaying dreamers into fits as her crackling weapon fired off its powerful electrical charge. Two dreamers were still standing when Corbitt came in from the other flank, and he and Ghoul beat them into submission before they could so much as take in a breath to scream or roar or whatever sound they might have made otherwise.

Just like on her first gig, Ghoul pulled an autoinjector from her belt pouch and moved among the downed dreamers, shooting them with some kind of tranquilizer as Juliet and Hot Mustard closed in on the scene of the melee. Juliet was careful to keep the muzzle of her new weapon pointed down and her finger off the trigger as she ran up.

“Weird,” Ghoul was saying to Corbitt when they walked up.

“What’s that?” Hot Mustard asked.

“The tranq is calming them down, but their eyes aren’t closing—they still seem kinda with it. They’re being quiet, though . . .”

“Let’s not dick around,” Corbitt said, nodding toward the dumpster blocking the tunnel entrance.

“Right,” Juliet said, turning to Hot Mustard, “Hot Mustard . . .” her lips came up in the start of a smile, and she almost lost it, saying his name out loud for the first time. “Hot Mustard,” she tried again, shaking her head, “watch Ghoul’s back so she can secure these guys’ feet and hands—in case the tranq doesn’t take.”

“Roger,” he said, grinning back at her and then lifting his rifle to his shoulder and panning around, peering into the shadows while Ghoul worked. Juliet hurried over to the dumpster, and Corbitt trotted along with her.

“If we both push on the corner here,” Corbitt said, gesturing, “We should be able to make a gap for us.”

“Yeah,” Juliet nodded, climbing the concrete slope behind the dumpster and putting her shoulder against it. “Say when,” she said, watching as Corbitt set himself to pull. He nodded, and Juliet drove with her legs. The big, rusty, metal dumpster slid a few inches noisily while she pushed, and Corbitt grunted and heaved, his face turning beat red beneath his dark goggles.

“Once more,” Corbitt grunted, and Juliet set herself and drove again. This time, the old dumpster made a loud, scraping racket as it slid over the sandy concrete.

“Nice,” Juliet said, stepping down off the slope to peer into the opening they’d uncovered.

“Yeah,” Corbitt said, holding up a fist, and Juliet moved to bump her knuckles into it, and that’s when two sets of pale, clammy hands grabbed onto her, yanking her arm and shoulders back. She swung her free arm in a pinwheel motion, trying to keep her balance, but she toppled backward, and they dragged her, heels skittering over the sandy concrete into a dark tunnel.

“Ungh!” she cried, jerking at her arm and trying to pull free. She saw the dreamers pulling her, saw their luminous, writhing, blue eyes, and heard their whispered snatches of insane babble.

“To the tree! Feed the lady!” one hissed.

“My dress, the perfect buttons!” the other cried.

“Juliet!” Corbitt called, and she saw him at the entrance, swinging his baton madly at the crowd of dreamers that had charged past Juliet to engage him. Juliet tried desperately to grab the SMG she’d slung onto her shoulder, but it flopped uselessly behind her while they dragged her. Finally, she gave up, pulling the bottom of her vest up and yanking out her Taipan with her right hand.

“Hold onto it tightly!” Angel said, her voice loud, clear as a crystal bell, and Juliet felt her nerves steady to know she wasn’t alone. She twisted so that she could see the dreamer that had her left arm, and she pointed the Taipan at his chest and squeezed the trigger. Thunder erupted from her hand, a plume of orange fire lit up the tunnel for a fraction of a second, and her hand bucked back, fully cartwheeling to bounce against her thigh. Still, she held onto the weapon, and the dreamer let go of her arm.

Juliet violently thrashed, jerking her body forward, and she slipped out of the grip of the second dreamer. She fell to the hard cement ground and rolled, so she was on her back. In her augmented Vision, she could see the dreamer she’d shot slumped against the concrete wall of the tunnel, and the one she’d jerked away from was jibbering and running away into the darkness. “Fuck!” she hissed, scooting back, then onto her knees, and finally, shakily, to her feet.

She still held the pistol ready, her left hand now supporting her grip, and stared into the tunnel, waiting to see if more came.

“Report!” Ghoul’s voice said into her ear, and that’s when Juliet noticed the sounds of yelling, the loud *clicks* of Hot Mustard’s gun, and the unmistakable concussive zaps of stun batons.

“Almost clear out here,” Hot Mustard said immediately.

“I . . .” Juliet started, but then Corbitt’s voice came through.

“Got mobbed at the tunnel,” he grunted and continued, “Fuck! Gimme a hand! They dragged Juliet in!”

“I’m good!” Juliet said quickly. “I had to shoot one, though.” She glanced at the slumped dreamer again, refusing to take in the details of his appearance or the damage she’d done. She pushed her thoughts into a corner of her mind and started back toward the tunnel entrance. By the time she got there, all three of the other operators were busily binding another half dozen semi-conscious dreamers.

“You sure you’re good? Did any bite you?” Ghoul asked, rushing over to her.

“No, they didn’t,” she said, shakily gesturing with her pistol back into the tunnel. “Two of them were dragging me in. It felt like they had a destination in mind.”

“You blasted ‘em?” Hot Mustard asked, looking at her pistol pointedly.

“Just one of them. The other ran off.”

“Well, we better stay alert. I don’t know how organized these fuckers are, but that one might be going for help,” Ghoul growled, then she stepped into the tunnel. “Any idea where to go from here?”

“The signal is stronger,” Angel said to Juliet. “It’s approximately fifty meters further and three meters up from here.”

“Yeah,” Juliet said. “Fifty meters in, and then we’re looking for stairs or a ladder. It’s on a level right above this tunnel.”

“Right on,” Ghoul said, then she dug around in her belt pack for a minute, pulling out a replacement battery for her baton. She swapped them out in about three seconds, then nodded and said, “Ready?”

“Ready,” Hot Mustard said, running a long-fingered hand through his bright hair and securing the loose strands into his ponytail.

“Ayup,” Corbitt said, also finishing up a battery swap on his baton.

“Corbitt, you take the rear, don’t let Juliet get grabbed again, please.” Ghoul didn’t sound like she was blaming Corbitt, but Juliet thought she saw the man bristle. He held his tongue, though, and nodded. Ghoul nodded, then started padding down the tunnel with Hot Mustard on her heels. Juliet hurried after, and she could hear Corbitt’s heavy breathing and plodding steps as he took the rear guard.

Happily, they didn’t encounter any more dreamers before they came to a partially ajar steel door that opened into a circular shaft. A faded yellow metal ladder was bolted to the wall and led up and down from where they stood. “Up?” Ghoul asked.

“Right,” Juliet nodded.

“Hang back a bit so I can listen,” Ghoul subvocalized, and then she jumped onto the ladder and started climbing. She moved gracefully and without much sound, slipping her boots onto each rung without the barest of scrapes. When she’d passed into shadows, Hot Mustard started to climb, but he stopped after a few feet and waited. Ghoul’s voice came through their comms a few seconds later. “Three dreamers in here with a fancy data deck. They’re out, though—eyes closed, breathing steady.”

“You got any more of those tranqs?” Corbitt asked.

“Negative. Used em on the first pack—didn’t count on this many hostiles.”

“Let me through,” Juliet said, tugging at Hot Mustard’s pant cuff. He grunted and started down the ladder, then he stepped back by Corbitt and nodded. “If this goes right, we should be done fighting, but if shit goes off the rails, this is a good position for you guys to defend. Don’t let us get swarmed in there.”

“Roger,” Hot Mustard said, and Corbitt nodded.

“I’m coming up, Ghoul.” Juliet grabbed onto the smooth, cool metal of the ladder and started climbing, wishing she could move as gracefully as Ghoul and Honey.

“Come on,” Ghoul’s voice said. “Just don’t step on ‘em. This room isn’t big.”

Juliet climbed up the ladder and reached the top in only a few seconds. It was dark, though the LEDs on Ghoul’s gear and on the data deck were enough for her optics to work with, brightening the scene to almost daylight for her. The chamber was small, maybe ten feet on a side, and three different, closed metal doors provided egress.

She saw the data deck immediately—another triangular, high-end Vykertech model. “Too much to be a coincidence, don’t you think?” she subvocalized to Angel.

“It seems that the strange dreamer behavior does have its roots with Vykertech,” Angel replied, “though there are many variables left to consider.”

“Yeah,” Juliet replied, stepping toward the deck, careful not to step on any of the three dreamers’ outstretched limbs. They all were lying on their backs with their heads close to the deck, each one with a length of cable stretching from a data port to the device. “How many ports did that one have back at the other hive? Three? Or was it four? I hope it was four.”

“It had four, and this model should, as well.”

Juliet tiptoed around until she was behind the deck, and when she knelt to look at it, she sighed with relief when she saw the open port next to the other three cables. She fumbled for a second, then carefully tucked her pistol into her holster. With her hands free, she pulled out her data cable and carefully inserted it into the open port on the deck. “How’s it look, Angel?”

“It’s the same security as the last deck. Luckily I analyzed the proprietary OS after I broke into the other deck and was able to use some exploits I discovered. I’m already in.”

“Holy shit! Nice one, Angel!” Juliet almost whispered she was so excited, though she kept her mouth closed while she formed the words.

“The program is running, Juliet, though when I examine the data stream, it looks like it’s creating a nightmare reality for the dreamers—triggering high levels of testosterone and adrenaline. Should I replace the program with the one we prepared?”

“Wait,” Juliet said, thinking. “Angel, why are these three dreamers not freaking out?”

“It seems those data cable ports are being blocked by some ICE—perhaps one of the dreamers had sophisticated defense daemons triggered by the program. It’s still running, but only the base game-like program is getting through, none of the PAI mods or hormone calls.”

“Okay, so if we can replace the running program with the one you tailored, all the dreamers should chill out like these three?”

“Yes, I think so, Juliet.”

“Well, we have to fix it, so this program can’t be turned back on. Can you block the network ports from receiving further instruction?”

“I can, but I can see a status query log—an outside address has been pinging this deck for status updates regularly. Should I set up a spoofed response?”

“So they’ll think it’s still running the way they left it?”

“Yes.”

Juliet looked around the little room, at the sleeping dreamers, at Ghoul standing ready near the stairwell, her baton gripped in white knuckles, and then she nodded, “Do it, Angel.”

“I will, Juliet, but first, you must plug in the data cube you borrowed from Ghoul.”

Juliet smacked herself on the head, slid out of her backpack, and dug around until she found Ghoul’s deck. “Fuck! I don’t have a separate cable for it, and there aren’t any more ports on the other deck!” She didn’t wait for Angel to come up with a solution; she subvocalized, “Ghoul. I need the cable from one of these guys. He’ll probably wake up when you take it, so maybe tie him up and gag him first.”

“Right,” Ghoul said, rubbing a hand through her short, white-blond hair, wiping the sweat onto her pants. Then she knelt and started binding one of the dreamers—a young man with long, thin brown hair and wire-job hands. Juliet wiped her own sweat away as she watched Ghoul wrap four or five shrink bands around the dreamer’s hands and feet. It was boiling in the little concrete room, and she was glad she had Ghoul’s help.

Ghoul ripped a large piece of the dreamer’s t-shirt away and rolled it up, stuffing it into his mouth; then she wrapped a thick band of tape around it. That done, she unplugged his cable and handed it to Juliet. The dreamer’s eyes snapped open, but they were normal eyes—not writhing with strange luminescent fibers, and he seemed more bewildered than violent.

“Take him down to the tunnel, Ghoul. I don’t think he’s infected,” Juliet said as she plugged the dreamer’s cable into the deck.

“I’ll wait for you. Thanks, though.” Ghoul said, and Juliet glanced at her, glad to see amusement in her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Juliet subvocalized. “Angel, is it working?”

“I’m copying the revised program to the deck. I’ll get it running in parallel before I switch to it and delete the old program.”

“Good. Copy everything on that deck while you’re at it.”

“Will do,” Angel said, and Juliet smiled.

“How long?”

“Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

“Need about five minutes. Be ready,” Juliet said into the team channel, “I’m hoping the dreamers don’t notice what I’m doing until it’s over, but I’m not one hundred about that.”

“Roger,” Hot Mustard replied, and Juliet almost started laughing. The guy liked to say “roger.”

The minutes slipped by, and the dreamer they’d bound and gagged did some thrashing but quickly tired and lay still. Juliet was contemplating standing to stretch when Angel said, “I’m ready, Juliet. Shall I initiate the switch?”

“Do it,” Juliet said, signaling for Ghoul to get ready. A second later, some wails and groans sounded from the rooms through the nearby doors, but they quickly faded, and Juliet thought for sure she heard some muffled crashes like maybe some dreamers had fallen to the ground.

“The new program is running, and I’ve wiped the old one. I have all the data, Juliet.”

“That’s it, guys,” Juliet said into the team channel. “The dreamers should be out of it again, peacefully chilling in their dream world. We should bug out before whatever corpo is running this fucked up experiment comes nosing around.”