I did the only thing I could think of. I ordered the power interface to cut off the power, but on the off chance that the tablet had a bomb inside, I did it while running for the exit and shutting the door behind me.
Theoretically, given the size of the tablet, it might not be much of a bomb, but I knew what Cassie’s gun could do. I remembered the bodies of the frogmen on the roof of a building in Washington D.C. It hadn’t been pretty and if push came down to it, if I had to come up with a species most likely develop a golfball-sized hydrogen bomb (or worse), the Abominators would have been high on my list of candidates. Continue reading Never Go Home: Part 4→
Knowing that Cassie was upstairs or at least in Grand Lake, I considered calling her. With her Abominator Citizen’s Mark, she registered to Abominator devices as an Abominator or at least as a servant authorized to use their stuff. Chances were better than average that she could have full control over the device.
Knowing that the Xiniti fought the Abominators and hacked into their technology, I asked my implant if it could connect to the device. It replied that it couldn’t sense any means to make contact.
That either meant that the device had hidden its communication systems or that they’d been damaged to the point that they no longer worked. Either way, I wasn’t getting much help from the implant. Continue reading Never Go Home: Part 3→
I had options. The obvious ones were purely the product of normal physics—X-rays or my sonics to analyze the structure, shaving off bits and tests to understand the materials, and trying to operate it by touch, if I wanted to take that risk.
Armory had done it and it hadn’t been fatal—yet.
Of course, I was a special case, given my connection to the Artificers, and that they were the “gods” the device took its name from. Continue reading Never Go Home: Part 2→
I woke up the next day in my own house and my own bed. I’d been living there since my junior year of college by that point so it felt normal to think of it as mine as opposed to my grandparents. I’d even decorated to a degree.
When we’d cleaned up the base below, we’d found a sign that hung in front of Grandpa’s business. It said, “Joe Vander Sloot, Consulting Engineer.” His name was on the first line and title on the second, both in gold letters against a black background. Knowing the Rocket suit’s colors, I’d wondered if it were a subtle nod to his alter ego, but it might be colors that fit the look of the business.
