Pieter and Brecht on the deck, a little disoriented, looked down at Hera. A female agent? Made very little sense to them, but they knew that she was just that.
When Bellwether had expired it was like everything attached to him was pulled into the singularity that he became. When he became a doorway they were yanked through. They were expert at dealing with exotic physics, but this was a new one for both of them. If they were pulled in on the end of one line though, what the hell was dangling on then end of the other one?
A wormhole bleed, a drainage from one universe into another; something larger.
‘We should do something,’said Brecht.
‘Like what?’ Said Pieter.
‘Well, this has something to do with Bellwether, doesn’t it?’
‘I guess so, and that’s going to be bad news for us, from what I know of him.’
He looked to her, and asked what had transpired.
‘He wasn’t an emissary like we thought, or a terrorist, he was a Trojan Horse. A four dimensional gateway folded into a body.’
‘And we’re sure it used to be two of us, right? And also, it looks badly off, but do we know it’s dead?’ Asked Pieter.
‘We don’t really know anything,’ said Hera, ‘As I am sure you know, they are called the unscripted realms for more than one reason.’
Brecht looked at what had been done with the body already. The layered reality was breaking down … Bellwether may have been subject to dream logic, but his masters from the fight they were putting up, most likely weren’t.
He staked the body with a Null Spike, hooked Possibility Lines to the question mark shaped head of the spike, and pulled out those lines to what would have been the cardinal points of the body. A circle: at its centre a receptive feed line. He struck it with a Lightning Edit, spliced A Collapse Protocol into the line, then struck a Sparkflint to ignite it. Watch this bastard burn; firmly shut the gate.
Hera and Pieter were impressed. Now came the wait.