By David C. Daoust
The nanites were working as a network, taking in every aspect of the city, and feeding it through to her holostage, Thus the hologram surrounding her, was formed of the millions of nanites, spread throughout the city-station, all feeding her data.
The cityscape moved around her as she spun the small, virtual, trackball before her. The mode of navigation was strangely cumbersome- she couldn’t really get the pace right. She’d spin it forward- move way too fast, then try to slow- and end up moving backwards. She knew if she kept at it, she would get used to it, but at the moment, it was pure frustration.
Dakota had spent so much time trying to navigate the city, she was no longer clear where she was. She wished she had had the foresight to create a map before she’d plunged into the amassed towers that made up the upper regions of the City-station. The more time she spent, twirling the ball, the more she felt she should just abandon the current run– go compile a map, and set up a mini-map, so she could watch where she was going from above.
In the same vein, she also knew, getting used to the track-ball would be equally as helpful, so she continued on scouting through the city, like an epileptic hawk, spurting forward in streaks, and then falling back.
The z-axis was much easier to control, spinning a second ball down would drop her lower to the ground, then up would bring her back up. She’d abandoned figuring out where she was, and just started spinning the ball, sailing through the skies, dropping up and down on the z-axis– it actually started to be kind of fun, if, almost completely, useless to her objectives.
Cruising through the cityscape, ultimately, wasn’t going to help her to begin with. Major Sims had plunged low into the underbelly of the station, but if she couldn’t control the navigation above, she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do much in the corridors below.
Through miles of spinning and whirling through the upper towers, she found herself completely turned around. So much, in fact, she found herself back at the docks- staring at the hull of the Red Faction ship. The very place she was currently inside, standing on a holostage in the middle of her lab- controlling the view.
It was lucky, at least she had a frame of reference… The problem, as she began to whirl around the ship itself, all to practice her navigation skills, was the small army of Wraiths outside.
Dakota was puzzled. What could be going on? The last she had heard, the Wraiths had almost completely fallen back, with only reports of small scouting teams watching their actions from afar. Something wasn’t right. She almost called to the guards, to press for any new information on what was going on outside. Yet, just as she was about to speak up, she noticed the small form of Margo… well, Vincent, being hauled along— prisoner.
Dakota’s eyebrow went up. Without a word she lowered the opacity of the hologram around her. As expected, she found Vincent sitting on the far counter, shuffling a set of cards, as the guards waited to be dealt their next hand.
Something wasn’t right.
Was she watching old footage? She grumbled.
Vincent was being held in a stasis field, along with a long line of other prisoners. While Vincent was struggling against, the others were sleeping peacefully. Prone, yet hovering a few feet off the ground, Dakota recognized them as the Consortium agents the Wraiths had collected from the Otomo Cruiser when they first arrived in the Everywhere. Why they had brought them to the Red Factions ship? eluded her. Yet, she imagined, they were there to collect even more prisoners. That is, if the Red Faction bots had not sealed off their ship, and forced the Wraiths to stand siege.
Dakota once again lost control of navigation- spun too far in her investigation, she collided with the stasis field holding Vincent. This sent data through her viewscreen from within those nanites that were actually projecting the field. Data that almost distracted her, from the very real fact, that this collision had created a series of sparks. A series of sparks that flew right into Vincent’s face– knocked him back and forced his hands up to protect himself.
This wasn’t old footage.
Her mind cascaded with possibilities, lining up all she knew of the temporal pocket; she was now tempted to say ‘pockets’. This changed everything.
She had to test it.
Gaining access to the stasis fields, she shut them all down. Bodies dropped throughout the long train of prisoners. Vincent dropped like a cat, and jetted to the nearby shadows, as the Wraiths all reacted to the sudden mess of spilt, unconscious, prisoners…
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