Ryan Somma - The Spiraling Web

"Keep trying," Devin said. He raised his rifle, looking for a good target, but it was the same everywhere. He aimed at the tendrils surrounding Zai, but the sector editor vanished from his hands. He caught a glimpse of it sinking into the writhing mass along the far wall.

There was a flash of light from Zai's direction, and Devin saw her weapon snatched away, a smoking crater healing in the ceiling. Other tendrils cocooned her. She gasped as they lifted her off the floor, constricting the air from her lungs.

Devin's hand found the five-layer fragmentor in his utility belt, but hesitated to use it. He first made for Zai's position, but the AI's snagged his feet, slowly pulling him down into their mass. Zai's head was slumped forward, unconscious.

Unexpectedly, the tendrils relaxed, allowing Devin to climb out of the mass and run over to where Zai was being lowered gently to the floor. She did not move. Devin took her in his arms and shook her. She gasped suddenly, taking in a deep breath that turned into a coughing fit.

"What happened?" she managed between breaths, her voice hoarse. "It felt like I was being squeezed to death."

"It must be Flatline," Devin told her, across the room he saw an opening in the tangle of eyes and tendrils. "Looks like he couldn't help but stop and gloat before killing us."

Devin steeled himself for Flatline's demonic avatar to emerge through the door, but, to his surprise and confusion, a little girl hovered through instead. She considered Devin and Zai carefully before approaching. She wore a black, hooded cloak that rippled as if wind were blowing through it. Toy robots circled the air and ground around her. She glided toward them, her cloak carrying her on rippling tendrils of fabric. The AI's parted before her, creating a smooth path.

She came to a stop in front of Devin and Zai, looking lost and distraught. Devin immediately felt sorry for the child.

When she spoke, Zai stiffened in Devin's arms with a hiss, "I want to go home. Will you help me find my way?"

"All right Detective Summerall," the very squat and obese lawyer was saying through his bushy mustache, "if you'll just sign these contract forms, Industrial Special Forces ™ will execute the raid."

Dana opened the folder, practically bursting with paperwork. She started reading the first page, but was lost in the labyrinth of legalese a few paragraphs in. So she took the beaming fat-man's proffered pen and started leaving her mark without further thought.

"That one exempts ISF from any legal repercussions in the event this raid results in accidental death or destruction of private property..." the man was saying unhelpfully as Dana flipped and signed each sheet as quickly as she could. "That form certifies that you have obtained all the proper permits and warrants required for this operation... By signing there you are agreeing to assume financial responsibility for this operation should your agency refuse to pay ISF... Here you're agreeing to the charges as itemized for this operation, even if ISF fails in its execution..."

It was a full twenty minutes before Dana finished with the paperwork. If it wasn't for the fact that, by signing the first form she was legally committing herself to signing the rest, she would have simply walked across the street and stormed Samantha Copes' home herself. She signed the last form, slapped the folder shut, and shoved it into the lawyer's chest.

His smile did not waver, nor did he miss a beat as he reached in to take her hand, which she did not offer, pumping it vigorously, "It's been a pleasure Detective Summerall."

"All yours," Dana said and gripped his stubby hand hard enough to make him wince satisfactorily.

"I'll let the Head Ops officer take over from here," the lawyer shuffled off, cradling his hand.

A muscular man with a well-defined chin and bulge of chewing tobacco in his cheek came up to stand at semi-attention before Dana. She hated him all ready, "We appreciate your business Detective, and I'd like to take a moment to go over your description of the target-"

"You read it right," Dana cut him off. "It's a computer hacker, female, nine years old."

"I know," he scratched his head. "It's just that the target seems pretty benign, even with two parents present-"

"Did you read the full report?" Dana interrupted again.

The Head Ops Officer cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Uh... Yeah."

"Then you know what you're up against," Dana said.

The officer looked to his feet, "Attack bots."

"So be prepared," Dana was as serious as a brain aneurysm.

"Sure," the officer wasn't. "It's your dime... or rather the taxpayer's."

Dana watched the officer stride over to his team. The men and women, decked out in body armor and baring wicked-looking automatic weapons, shot Dana suppressed grins and whispered to one another. Dana hated bringing in outside help, but with IWA in Alexandria in shambles, she had no choice. Further behind the front line were technicians from the Data Forensics Department, and those pale, pasty antisocials were dead meat if another mecha waited inside.

"Pulling all stops for an egghead," a contractor laughed within Dana's earshot, carrying a grenade-launcher.

Dana was considering rapping her knuckles on the young man's head, but her cell phone went off, Murphy's ring. She put her thumb to her temple, pinky to her mouth, and, without thinking, said, "Hey partner. What's up?"

"Hello Dana," not Murphy's voice replied. "I've been following up on Samantha Copes, as you requested, and we've found an inconsistency in the lead. Her account's been online as recently as this morning, but the power was cut off to her house almost two weeks ago."

BOOM! Dana's hand went for her gun. She looked up to see the broken windows and clouds of sleeping gas pouring out of them. Familiar with this method of incapacitation, Dana tried to recall if she signed a disclaimer in case it put anyone into a vegetative state.

"Thanks Ian," Dana recovered. "Looks like I'll need to follow up on that." She made a fist to close the connection, staring at it a moment, squeezing, and reminding herself to retire her old partner's ringtone.

The Industrial Special Forces ™ officers pulled their gasmasks on and began their charge after allowing sufficient time for the sleeping gas to take effect. Two in the lead carried a small battering ram between them. On the porch, they unlatched the safety on it and slammed it into the door, causing the gunpowder inside to detonate with enough force to turn a significant portion of the wood into splinters. The remainder swung inward and the officers charged inside in two-unit waves.

Dana grabbed a gas mask and pointed a finger at the technicians, "Get masks on and get inside the moment you hear it's clear."

They nodded nervously in return. Dana pulled the gas mask over her head, taking a moment to seal it to her face with the rubber straps. She then pulled her gun from its holster and charged across the street, keeping low with it pointed muzzle-down. She scanned the domicile's exterior for evidence of robots, knowing the officers would not know what to look for, if they were even bothering to look. The smoke was clearing from the front door and she could see an officer in the living room, screaming at two figures on the couch and gesturing with his weapon.

"They're dead!" Dana snapped. The officer jumped and almost pointed his gun at her. She pointed further into the house, "Move on! I've got this."

Two bodies were sitting on the couch, a man and woman. Dana holstered her gun and moved into the room. Footfalls and excited voices vibrated through the walls.

Kneeling beside the woman Dana searched for answers. She was stiff, emaciated. Her death came slowly, but apparently peacefully and without conscious pain. Flatline could kill through VR, but no VR system was present.