Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Maybe. But there’s nothin’ I can do about it now.
Nothin’ I can do about it here.
I took care of business, it’s time to leave.
Sucking in a breath, I grit my teeth and head for the lab.
It takes several minutes for me to find the right door, but when I do, it’s open. Like Luther and Epsilon left it this way on purpose. Imaginin’ this moment—me, walkin’ in, gettin’ my first look at Clara since all this shit went down.
It’s… almost poetic. Tragically romantic, maybe.
Because from where I stand in the doorway, she looks dead.
My data display goes haywire—panic triggers firing across my field of vision. Cortisol spike. Adrenaline dump. EMOTIONAL OVERRIDE: STABILIZE.
My heart rate jumps, tries to sprint—
REGULATING...
It slows down against my will. My breathing evens out. I hate it.
The Versi system thinks I’m gonna lose control.
It’s probably right.
But I don’t move. Not yet. Just stare. Focused concentration as I take it all in.
Blood’s seepin’ out of her eyes and drippin’ down her cheeks like yesterday’s makeup. It’s comin’ out her nose, her ears, her mouth. Like something exploded inside her.
Maybe somethin’ did, Tyse?
Maybe it was you.
HEALTH SCAN: SCANNING…
HEALTH SCAN: SUBJECT HEALTH CRITICAL.
I breathe.
Critical isn’t dead. It’s the best I could hope for.
Dropping to one knee, my rucks thud against the concrete floor.
Opening the first pack, I search for what I need. Find two of one, then two of the other, and snap them into the quad chamber.
I breathe.
Both cartridges locked in, I stand. Then turn to the door, walk out and aim the Versi down the long hallway to the right. I empty two chambers—one with VersiPath OverRide, the other with GhostMark.
Then I turn to the left and repeat the action.
That takes care of anything that got out of my way. Because VersiPath will hunt down an unsanctioned VerisStrike and kill the operator, no questions asked, and GhostMark’ll mow down a horde without hesitation.
The Sweep of Epsilon Factory, Dimension 702, is now complete.
I breathe.
Find a spare holster in the ruck, strap it on my hip. Slip the Versi in. Then calmly—ever so calmly—walk over to Clara and extract her from the cage.
It takes nearly an hour to get the needles out, manually push the cage back into its restin’ cradle on the opposite wall, and unstrap her.
She falls forward like dead weight the moment I unhook the chest belt. Then I pick her up in my arms, and walk out.
44 - THE AUGMENT’S PRAYER
Though no god walks with me, I go where I must.
Though no heaven waits for me, I walk forward without fear.
Built in fire, tested in ruin—I carry the code that cannot break.
I do not serve, nor submit, nor bow.
I stand with those who stand beside me.
Their names are my armor; their memory is my shield.
In their silence, I move on.
In their absence, I find strength.
In their wisdom, I survive.
From the Field Operations Manual: Sweep-Class Augments (declassified fragment, p. 17)
“Where the Creed ends in confession, the Prayer begins in consequence. These are not marching orders, nor is it liturgy. This is the final protocol of something that once was human.
‘I do not serve, nor submit, nor bow.’ It is a refusal. A rejection of gods, chains, and the illusion of purpose. But buried within its defiance is grief. Memory. Loyalty. I do not believe this was ever meant to be recited aloud. Only remembered.”
—Master Finnegan Scott, Lectures on the Line So Bright, Final Chapter Addendum: “Prayer in the Wake of Code”
45 - EPILOGUE - TYSE
Though no god walks with me, I go where I must.
It was a hot morning, the final day of our pre-deployment R&R, and I was sweatin’ out last night’s drink on the floor of our hotel room—which was nothing but a fuckin’ tent. That’s all there is in Psi City, just tents.
Though no heaven waits for me, I walk forward without fear.
Myra woke me up early, shakin’ me. “Come on, Tyse. We’re gonna miss all the good shit.”
I pushed my hand into her face, then turned over, groanin’. Was up ‘till three partyin’ last night and the Sanddji comes with a wicked hallucinatory hangover, so I was not in any mood to get up at six-thirty am just so Myra could drag me around the Psi City mod-market.
She’s kind of a prepper.
She was, Tyse. Was.
I do not serve, nor submit, nor bow.
But I did get up, and I did go with her.
Myra was always thinkin’ up the stupidest scenarios where she’d pull through because she was a hoarder of the most bizarre aftermarket Versi mods you could think of. Even in the here and now—with my eyes closed, so fuckin’ tired from stealin’ spark from other dimensions to keep Clara alive, feelin’ like death—I smile at this memory.
“It’s not hoarding, Tyse. Not if it comes in handy later.”
“Since when are three cases of spark cartridges gonna come in handy later?” I flicked her in the head. “They’re the first fuckin’ thing you use when things go sideways. No one’s savin’ ‘em for later, Myra.”