Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga (21 page)

“Anything we can do?” Chute said.

Streeter twitched. The piece dissolved. He
let out a deep breath and bowed his head. “Yeah, how about not
scaring the shit out of me?”

“Do you really need the giant sim with the
fat fingers?” she said. “There’s no one here to fight, you
know.”

“Oh, sure. Give me an hour and I’ll build
another sim.”

“Don’t give me that, you’ve got generic sims
in reserve. I’ve seen them.”

“You don’t know what I—”

“Can we get on with this?” I said.

Streeter blew a curly lock of hair from his
eyes and stared at Chute. “I have to recall the pieces and fit them
into the shell. You can hold each one in place for about ten
seconds or until the piece stitches while I retrieve the
others.”

He held up his hand and, again, a piece
appeared between his fingers five seconds later. He bent over,
carefully placing it. Chute put her finger on it and he created
another piece, put it in place and I held it. He did it again. Now
Chute held two of them. I let go of my piece to grab the next and
it disappeared.

“Longer, Socket,” Streeter said. “You got to
give the stitching code time to lock it in place.”

“You said ten seconds.”

“I said
about
ten seconds,” he said,
bringing another piece to where the first one just evaporated.

I kept my finger on this one as long as I
could. Streeter pulled them down faster, sliding each one in place
and barking at us to hold them tighter and longer. We had no more
fingers left. Streeter paused to give the pieces extra time to
stitch. When they were a shade darker, we let go and he started
after more.

“Halfway there,” he said.

We took deep breaths and began again. It was
getting stuffy. Buxbee’s lab must’ve been overheating. Streeter had
most of our fingers occupied when the gray space trembled and two
pieces crumbled from the shell.

“They’re coming,” Streeter said.

“What do you mean
they’re coming?”
I
said.

Streeter moved faster, with both hands, and
brought two pieces down. “As soon as those things make contact with
the portal, they could come through this ball right here.” He
clicked the pieces in place. “We have to have this final shell done
to keep them inside.”

Distant thunder shook somewhere. “Why does
it sound like they’re out there?” I said.

“Focus, Socket!”

Streeter hauled the pieces out faster then
we could hold them. Chute used her chin on one of them. Three
crumbled. Streeter had to stop adding pieces and help hold them
until they stitched.

“What’ll they do if they get here?” Chute
said.

He took the time to put two more pieces in
place before answering. “Well, seeing as this isn’t finished,
they’ll shatter the security shells, blow by us and roam free in
virtualmode.” He flicked his eyes at me. “You’ll have to ask Mr.
Secret Agent what they’ll do after that.”

I pretended not to notice, like we needed to
be focusing and not talking. But I didn’t know what they were going
to do if they got free. I had one of those feelings there was a lot
riding on getting this shell completed because the Paladins were
out there fighting like it was life or death.

“Will they come after us?” Chute asked.

When I didn’t answer, Streeter said,
“Probably not.”

“Probably? What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know, it means probably. Maybe
those things don’t care about us, they just want inside. Or…” He
took a second to place a piece. “Or maybe they’ll be pissed off
that we were trying to stop them and… you know.”

“You know?” Chute’s fingers wiggled enough
to shatter two pieces. Streeter started to say something, but Chute
cut him off. “No, I don’t know!”

Streeter took a deep breath and went back to
concentrating. He should’ve been doing what I was doing, but now it
was too late. The side of his head was getting a full-bore stare
from Chute.

“Chute,” I said. “Maybe you should get off,
we’re almost done.”

She turned the heat on me. “No. And don’t
ask me that again.”

Another disturbance rattled close by. We
held the pieces tighter.

“Hurry,” Chute whispered.

“
As fast as I can
,” Streeter sang,
grabbing two more pieces.

“Why weren’t you grabbing two pieces to
begin with?” she said.

“This isn’t easy!” He shoved them in place.
“I got to concentrate.”

“But they’re coming,” she urged.

“I KNOW THAT!” He stopped for a second to
refocus, then retrieved two more pieces.

The next disturbance vibrated through my
sim. I felt that one. Maybe it was because the clamp was shutting
down and I was getting back to normal, but the timeslice spark
still wasn’t ready. Rudder wasn’t done. The look on Streeter and
Chute’s faces meant they felt it, too.

“Ten more,” Streeter said, huffing.

“You can do it,” I said.

Two more pieces locked in. The shell
darkened. We had our fingers splayed out over as many pieces as we
could hold.

Kaaabooooom!

The portal shuddered under our hands. We
lost a piece.

“Three more!” Streeter shouted. “Hold
them!”

The gray space transformed, swirling like
fog, dense and grainy. Footsteps echoed under the distant thunder.
Someone was out there, shoes clicking on a hard floor. I looked
around, listening. There it was again! Footsteps echoed, closer
this time. Was Streeter wrong? Were they coming in from somewhere
else? Did they already get through another portal somewhere in the
world and now they were coming to open this one?

“WILL YOU CONCENTRATE?” Streeter shouted.
“Only two more, just focus on these next two, all right?”

“Chute, get off, now,” I said. “I can hold
the rest. Get off.”

“You can’t hold all the pieces. He’ll be
done in a second and we can all get off.”

Streeter pulled the final piece down, held
it delicately over the last hole. Our fingers filled the gap,
holding the last pieces in place. He waited with the last one, his
chest heaving.

“All right,” he said, quietly, “let them
go.”

We took our fingers out, holding our breath.
The pieces trembled, but held. The shell went two shades darker.
Streeter so carefully laid the last one over the gap and touched it
with the tip of his finger, pushed it into place. The shell clicked
and turned black.

“There.” He exhaled so long his shoulders
deflated. “The portal is locked.”

KAAABOOOOOOM!

The floor tilted.

Chute dropped to her knees; Streeter
teetered forward on the tips of his toes, windmilling his arms to
keep his balance. I couldn’t stop the virtual giant from falling on
top of the portal. He didn’t just graze it: he pushed it all the
way to the floor, bounced on it and flopped on his back. The portal
bounced back to its original position. It bobbed between us. We
stood extra still, not even breathing, while the portal jiggled in
place.

A hairline fracture slithered across the
black shell. Piece by piece, it crumbled until every single shell
lay at Streeter’s feet. The portal glittered blue and white, bright
as ever.

A mechanical screech called from inside the
portal, like a crystal ball playing the near future.

EeeeeeeeeeeeieiiiiiIIIIIIIIIII!

“They’re in,” Streeter said.

“What now?” I said.

“You’ve got powers, right?” Streeter said.
“Fight them.”

“FIGHT THEM?”

“Aren’t you stronger, or something?”

“Do you see a cape on my back?”

“Those guys up there in the parking lot,
they were disappearing and reappearing and slinging some badass
weapons. You telling me you can’t do that?”

“I’m not like that.”
I don’t know what I
am.

“Streeter,” Chute said, “can we hide the
portal somewhere else?”

Streeter’s mouth contorted, about to shout
his frustration, then stopped. “That just might…” He placed both
hands over the portal, his lips moving, eyes closed. His muttering
grew louder, like an enchantment and a clear shell wrapped around
the portal, snapping shut.

“That’s a basic security shell,” he said.
“But it will buy us some time. I can set up transportation
coordinates to an obscure website and take the portal with us.
It’ll confuse them. They’ll find us, eventually, but it’ll give us
a few minutes.”

“How much time do we have?” I said.

He shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

“Guess.”

“They’ll be looking for us in ten minutes,
maybe twelve.”

“Well, do it,” I said.

He took the portal in his hands and closed
his eyes, whispering new coordinates. The echoing footsteps started
again. I circled Streeter, searching for the source. They grew
louder.

“Hurry, Streeter.”

He muttered louder, not hearing me. Hands
clenched in concentration, his fingertips denting the shell.
Someone whispered my name.
Socket.
I jumped next to
Streeter, hands up, knees bent. Chute beside me.

A white, generic sim appeared out of the
fog, its hands folded behind its back. It had no eyes, ears or
nose. A slit opened, where a mouth would’ve been, imitating a
smile.

It said, “Salutations.”

D I S C O V E R Y

“Broak?”

“Indeed, it is.” His voice was distorted,
hardly recognizable.

“How’d he get here?” Streeter hid the
portal, deftly concealing it behind his back.

“My dear ogre friend, I’m sure you’re well
aware of what would happen if the duplicates’ crawlers get through
this portal. We want to be sure no one, or
thing
, has
tampered with the security shells.” He kicked at shattered pieces
and they rang on the end of his foot. “It appears I’m a tad
late.”

“They put you in charge?” I said.

“They are a bit busy, as I’m sure you have
noticed. The entire world is under attack, my dear Socket. The
duplicates have launched a full-scale attack and I’m afraid we were
caught, as you might say, with our trousers down.” His face
twitched where eyebrows would normally be. “We are using every last
resource to stave them off. It is the last stand, my friend. It
just so happens I have come to help you protect this compromised
portal security shell.” He looked down at the pieces again and held
out his hand. “If you would’ve completed your assignment, you
wouldn’t be in this mess, dear ogre. You have failed. I suggest you
turn the security over to one more suitable.”

“I don’t think so,” Streeter said.

Broak tilted his head toward me. “Can you
talk some sense into your friend? The world is at stake, you
know.”

“You tried to kill me, you piece of shit.” I
rammed my hand around his neck, wedged my finger and thumb under
his jawbone. He did not resist. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for
Pivot.”

“Can we put that aside for now, dear Socket?
There are greater issues before us than a street fight.”

I threw him so far into the gray fog he
almost disappeared. I wanted to break him in half, somehow reach
through that sim and choke him, make his throat burn like mine did.
Maybe I couldn’t beat his ass in a straight up fight, at least not
until I got control of time again.

“I can explain my actions.” Broak righted
himself and folded his arms behind his back as he walked back. “It
is difficult to understand my motivation, but if you give me a
moment I will do so. However, do be reasonable, dear Socket. We do
not have a moment to spare. If you grant me the portal, there will
soon be time to explain everything. I beg of you.”

Mechanical screeching called from inside the
portal.

“I am capable of a 200-cube security shell
within five minutes,” he said. “I have the programming loaded in
this sim and can secure it before it’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Gray fog whooshed
around our ankles, muffling his footsteps.

“We have the technology. You have seen it
yourself. Do the right thing and put our conflict aside. Can you do
that?”

The slit-mouth did not smile. The generic
face had no expression. The world couldn’t afford for us to fail.
They needed us. They needed the Paladins. They needed
him
. I
had to admit it: Broak was more qualified than me. And that way,
Chute and Streeter could get back to their skin.

“There’s no time to debate this, I want the
portal.” Broak took another step and our sims shifted into battle
garb. Weapons unfolded on my hip. A battle stave materialized in
Chute’s hand.

“What’re you doing, Streeter?” Chute said.
“We don’t need this stuff.”

He looked at the nicked battleaxe dangling
from the barbarian belt criss-crossing his chest, the studded war
boots and spiked battle gloves. “The battle alert just triggered.
There’s a threat nearby.”

“I’m not going to ask again.” The slit-smile
creased Broak’s face.

“Streeter!” Chute cried.

Broak unfolded his arms from behind his
back. His fingers fused together like spears. He lunged like a
swordsman, his arm plunging through Streeter’s stomach, the axe
clattering away. Broak’s arm-sword slid all the way through
Streeter, wrapping around the portal. In the next instant, he
yanked it halfway through Streeter’s body.

“Cut it!” Streeter grabbed Broak’s arm with
both hands. “Cut his arm off!”

I grabbed the evolver clubs from my belt.
They unfolded and fused around my hands and forearms and I tried to
focus on a weapon. So many of them jumbled in my head; I couldn’t
concentrate. It happened too fast. I couldn’t take my eyes off the
gaping wound in Streeter’s stomach spewing molten gray shit. Chute
jabbed her battle stave at Broak’s face, but he caught it with his
free hand.

“Don’t make this mistake,” Broak hissed.
“The world needs me to have this!”