Read Online Broken Crescent by S. Andrew Swann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. Andrew Swann
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away the most solid part of the mess.
He tried to play with code in his head, but the fever had scrambled the focus of his mind.
He would wake up, shouting into the blackness. . . .
“Is this what you want? @, you fucker? Why? What the hell is the point? I’m going to rot away here and not even know where the fuck I am. If you wanted something out of me, you bastard, boy, did you blow it. . . .”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to do this to you. But tell those CNN bastards to back off. . . .”
“You ‘Mission Impossible’ bastards did it, I admit it. I’m Azrael, I’ll sign anything, you can all stop the act now. . . .”
“Microsoft will always have security holes, they have a business cycle that’s based on a two-year product turnaround no matter what shape the software’s in. If it wasn’t for folks like me, testing the holes, you think they’d even code the patches?”
“You know, I don’t think I’m going to make Thanksgiving dinner.”
“For Christ’s sake, it’s not like I killed anyone . . .”
“Who the fuck else would you want running your network security?”
“Please, God, don’t let me die down here.”
When they came for him, Nate was lucid enough to know what was happening, to know how bad off he was. He was suffering from some filth-borne disease. Dysentery, cholera, or some other infection was dehydrating him. The diarrhea wouldn’t stop, and he could barely keep the broth down. He could feel his own ribs, and under a scraggly beard it felt as if his cheek-bones might slice open his face.
When the robed figures gripped his arms, it was more to hold him upright than it was to restrain him.
The walk was exhausting, but Nate didn’t have a choice, they forced him to go on. A few times Nate stumbled and nearly collapsed, but they held on, dragging his feet behind him.
They pulled him through corridors, and up stairs, until Nate could smell the sea air again. It was a shock to be suddenly reminded that there was, in fact, a world beyond the stone walls that had imprisoned him.
They took him through a plain wooden door that opened into a massive arcade. Unlike the dungeons that they’d been in up to now, this long gallery was wide, well-lit, and clean. Huge tapestries hung from the walls and light shone in from small windows set near the top of the vaulted ceiling. Statues flanked the tapestries, showing figures that were unquestionably human, and of the same breed as his captors. The tapestries carried scenes of warfare, showing cities burning and people being slaughtered. Nate saw that the battles all seemed to be between the humans and alien creatures like the one that had brought him his daily bucket.
One of the last tapestries showed a thing . Nate couldn’t name it, but it had the same insect-tentacle-plantlike characteristics as the defaced sculpture he had seen on the hillside what seemed like a millennium ago. It hovered over a blasted landscape, piled with smoldering bodies.
They didn’t stop to allow Nate a better look. They were headed for the massive doors at one end of the huge gallery.
They entered a great circular chamber and dragged him to a high chair set in the center of the room. He faced a tall U-shaped desk that half circled him. Ten masked figures looked down at him from behind that desk. Their masks were all equally elaborate, with shining highlights of silver, gold, ivory, and precious stones. All were different. Nate saw Scarface’s red devil mask, but he also saw a clown, a cat, some sort of bird, an abstract pattern with no nose or mouth, and a frowning face that was very realistically human.
Nate saw the box that held his clothes sitting off to the right. The padlock was gone and it was guarded by a pair of Scarface’s cronies with the red-yellow devil masks.
After setting Nate down, the pair who had carried him walked up to the desk and conferred with Scarface. Nate looked around. His skin felt flushed and his neck felt rubbery.
He tried to play with code in his head, but the fever had scrambled the focus of his mind.
He would wake up, shouting into the blackness. . . .
“Is this what you want? @, you fucker? Why? What the hell is the point? I’m going to rot away here and not even know where the fuck I am. If you wanted something out of me, you bastard, boy, did you blow it. . . .”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to do this to you. But tell those CNN bastards to back off. . . .”
“You ‘Mission Impossible’ bastards did it, I admit it. I’m Azrael, I’ll sign anything, you can all stop the act now. . . .”
“Microsoft will always have security holes, they have a business cycle that’s based on a two-year product turnaround no matter what shape the software’s in. If it wasn’t for folks like me, testing the holes, you think they’d even code the patches?”
“You know, I don’t think I’m going to make Thanksgiving dinner.”
“For Christ’s sake, it’s not like I killed anyone . . .”
“Who the fuck else would you want running your network security?”
“Please, God, don’t let me die down here.”
When they came for him, Nate was lucid enough to know what was happening, to know how bad off he was. He was suffering from some filth-borne disease. Dysentery, cholera, or some other infection was dehydrating him. The diarrhea wouldn’t stop, and he could barely keep the broth down. He could feel his own ribs, and under a scraggly beard it felt as if his cheek-bones might slice open his face.
When the robed figures gripped his arms, it was more to hold him upright than it was to restrain him.
The walk was exhausting, but Nate didn’t have a choice, they forced him to go on. A few times Nate stumbled and nearly collapsed, but they held on, dragging his feet behind him.
They pulled him through corridors, and up stairs, until Nate could smell the sea air again. It was a shock to be suddenly reminded that there was, in fact, a world beyond the stone walls that had imprisoned him.
They took him through a plain wooden door that opened into a massive arcade. Unlike the dungeons that they’d been in up to now, this long gallery was wide, well-lit, and clean. Huge tapestries hung from the walls and light shone in from small windows set near the top of the vaulted ceiling. Statues flanked the tapestries, showing figures that were unquestionably human, and of the same breed as his captors. The tapestries carried scenes of warfare, showing cities burning and people being slaughtered. Nate saw that the battles all seemed to be between the humans and alien creatures like the one that had brought him his daily bucket.
One of the last tapestries showed a thing . Nate couldn’t name it, but it had the same insect-tentacle-plantlike characteristics as the defaced sculpture he had seen on the hillside what seemed like a millennium ago. It hovered over a blasted landscape, piled with smoldering bodies.
They didn’t stop to allow Nate a better look. They were headed for the massive doors at one end of the huge gallery.
They entered a great circular chamber and dragged him to a high chair set in the center of the room. He faced a tall U-shaped desk that half circled him. Ten masked figures looked down at him from behind that desk. Their masks were all equally elaborate, with shining highlights of silver, gold, ivory, and precious stones. All were different. Nate saw Scarface’s red devil mask, but he also saw a clown, a cat, some sort of bird, an abstract pattern with no nose or mouth, and a frowning face that was very realistically human.
Nate saw the box that held his clothes sitting off to the right. The padlock was gone and it was guarded by a pair of Scarface’s cronies with the red-yellow devil masks.
After setting Nate down, the pair who had carried him walked up to the desk and conferred with Scarface. Nate looked around. His skin felt flushed and his neck felt rubbery.
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