“What about your secret organization?” I asked, “What could they do?”
She looked away, cheeks coloring. "It's not much of an organization. Mostly a collection of geeks scattered across the country. Mostly they argue about alien stuff online. Supposedly Claire's grandpa had connections, but personally, I think he was just a crackpot who got lucky."
I pointed to the golden disk at her throat. “He found that. And he seemed to know something about the thing that got inside me. Do you have any idea of who he talked to?”
“No. There was an upper level to the organization, but I was never a part of it,” Liz said.
I tried another tack. “You’ve obviously had some kind of combat training. Where did that come from?”
She grinned. “My dad was in Special Forces,” she said, “He taught me all that stuff. I taught the girls some of it.”
Another dead end. Honestly, I didn't have a clear idea of what I was going to do. All I knew was I wanted to take the fight to them somehow. I wasn't even sure which of them I wanted to hurt the most. Mattany. Kincaid. Stickmen. Blinkys. Dons. Julie and her meatbag husband. They were all on my poopy list.
None of them would ever leave me alone until they got what they wanted. And to do that, I had a feeling they’d have to scrape the thing off my bones. Any one of them would do it without hesitation.
“I’m not disposable,” I said.
“What?”
I looked up. Liz gave me a look like I was daft. I realized she wasn't able to follow my internal monolog. Imagine that.
“All of these people and things have been trying to kill me,” I said, “You know what they keep saying when they’re about to do something nasty to me?”
“What?”
“It isn’t personal. It’s business.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. It’s always personal.”
With those three words, I fell deeply and irrevocably in love with her. My heart pounded against my ribcage. Was this what true love felt like?
“I think I love you,” I said.
A shy smile crossed her lips. “You’re cute,” she said.
I shook my head. I had to focus.
“You’re right. It’s always personal. All those people treated me like I was disposable. An interchangeable part that could be discarded at will. Well, I’m not disposable. I’ve had enough. I’m going to find a way to take down all these assholes. I’m going to make it personal for them.”
Liz came over and put her arms around me. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"
She put her lips on mine and I lost myself in her. After forever we came up for air.
"Do you think there's a bed in this place?" she asked.
Sixty-Two
Later, we searched Kincaid’s filthy, rancid house from top to bottom. We came up empty. Well, Liz found Kincaid’s porn collection, but it was fairly normal. No farm animals or anything. Liz flipped through one of the old paper magazines.
“Well, he likes big knockers, that’s for sure,” she said, “How did you get hired? You don’t have big tits. They’re hairy, but definitely not big.”
I tossed aside a box of shoes as I dug through the closet. Kincaid sure had a lot of shoes for a slob.
“Very funny,” I said, “I got hired because I can make a computer sit up and whinny.”
“And because you were willing to bring him takeout from Portos,” she said.
I dug into a box at the back of the closet. More shoes.
“Those days are over,” I said.
“Better be,” she said, “I’m not going to stick with someone who bends over for people in authority.”
I looked up at her. She held a magazine up sideways, a page inside unfolded, showing a long photo of a very naked, buxom woman. I wanted to impress Liz. I wanted to show her that I was the sort of guy who could take on the bad guys and win. I wanted to show her I was a superhero.
Yes, still an idiot.
What was I doing? Ransacking Kincaid’s house looking for what? Incriminating evidence? So I could take it to the police and have him arrested for crimes against humanity?
No.
I wanted more than that. I wanted a lever. Something I could use to break him. Break him and Mattany and Julie and the Stickmen and the Dons. All the people and creatures who used me.
I sat down, my back against the closet wall. It was stifling warm in the room. Sweat trickled down my cheeks. The place stank of unwashed laundry and stale pizza and old enchilada sauce.
“What I want to know is what Kincaid is going to get out of all this?” I asked.
Liz gave me a quizzical look. “What?”
I realized I hadn’t told her the whole story about the burger and the bomb thing. I quickly sketched it out. She dropped the magazine and put her hands on her hips. Her face clouded in anger.
“That son of a bitch. When I get my hands on him I’m going to rip his balls off,” she said.
I shrugged. “If you want. What I’m wondering is why? This whole thing is so convoluted it doesn’t make sense. Kincaid’s got his fingers in all kinds of pots, but what’s his end game? Does he expect to get off planet with the Dons? He can’t think they’re going to do anything but take the device away from him and toss him out the nearest airlock.”
“What about the star drive equations?” Liz asked, “Don’t the aliens want those?”
I shook my head and tapped my chest. “I’m betting this device contains the star drive plans–and a whole lot more.”
“But how would they get them out of it?” she asked.
I remembered the Don, Bey Jodo, getting mad at Julie for bringing him the memory stick. He didn’t have a way of extracting the information. Would the Dons have the same problem with the device inside me?
Of course they would. They’d never be able to get any information from it. The thing hated the Dons. It...
I had a sudden insight. It must have shown on my face. Liz crouched beside me.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
I thought back to what the old man said. It’s in you, isn’t it? I can feel its presence. He knew about it. The device showed him things. And he knew Kincaid had touched it. It’s got you, too.
“I think someone is playing a long game here,” I said.
“Who?”
I tapped my chest. “This thing. I’m wondering if its been manipulating us all.” I stared down at my chest. “Have you?”
It didn’t answer. It had communicated with me when I was unconscious. I had gotten feelings from it when I was around the Dons. Since then it hadn’t tried to communicate. But it had to be pretty well integrated with me now.
“What’s your agenda?” I said to my chest.
Liz touched my cheek. “You okay?” she asked.
The device didn’t say anything.
“What if I go throw myself into molten lava? What happens to you then?”
Still no answer. It probably knew there weren't any volcanos nearby. Was it manipulating me into getting revenge on its enemies? Was this a millennia-long plot?
Use the power.
I snapped my head up.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
Liz looked worried now. “Hear what?”
Oh, yay, now I had voice in my head.
Use the power.
I wanted to ignore the voice. I didn’t want to use the power. It drained the hell out of me.
On our way to Kincaid's house, Liz had run into a taco shack and got me a bag of burritos. Refried beans, Spanish rice, potatoes, pork and green chili sauce. Five of them. I wolfed them all down in less than three minutes. And still, I was hungry. Liz went back in and got me three more plus two extra large Cokes.
Chomp, chomp, chomp. Those were gone too. Liz had given me that same worried look. Where is it all going? she asked. I didn’t tell her it was like throwing coal into a blast furnace. I could feel the food steaming off the second it hit my stomach. My body absorbed it almost inst
antly. The alien things inside me had modified my digestive system too, it seemed.
I would have had her go in for more, but we only had three hundred dollars that I had hidden in a Zip Loc baggy in a can of coffee at my apartment. My pathetic emergency stash. My phone with my identification and my banking information was gone. Lost in my first clothes-shredding run into the desert. I didn’t have a backup phone, either. I’d been meaning to get one...
But even if I had one, I’d have to leave it behind. Phones could be tracked. Any attempt to access my bank accounts would no doubt alert the authorities.
And now a little voice in my head wanted me to use the power.
“What do you want me to use it for?” I asked.
“Who are you talking to?” Liz asked.
“Sshhh, there’s a voice in my head,” I said, “Well, come on, tell me, what do you want?”
Use the power. Look.
I turned my face up to Liz. She had backed off a little. The expression on her face didn’t signify confidence that my mental faculties were in good working order.
“You’re not going crazy on me, are you?” she asked, “Because if you are, I’ll be running along now.”
“I don’t know if I’m crazy or not,” I said, “I think the device is trying to communicate with me.”
“What’s it saying?”
“Use the power.”
“What?”
I stood up and brushed dust bunnies off me. Kincaid really needed to get a maid.
“It told me to use the power, and look.”
“All right,” she said, “You should do it.”
She was right, of course. Why was I so reluctant? I had used the power at my apartment and the world hadn't ended. Armored marines from black hoverjets hadn't dropped through the ceiling. Creepy Stickmen hadn't busted through the door.
Whatever signal I had been giving out before had been extinguished. Another gift from the Dendon device?
“Well? Are you going to do it?” Liz asked.
“I guess I don’t have much choice do I?”
“Can I use the armor?”
I sighed. “Sure, why not.”
She clapped her hands, a big smile on her face. She closed her eyes and touched the golden disk at her neck.
Nothing happened.
Her face fell. She looked down at herself. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you break it?” I asked.
She gave me an angry look. “How could I break something that survived a starship crashing into a mountain?”
Good point. What was different? I thought back to when she activated it the first time. What was different? There was only one thing I could think of.
“You were naked the first time you used it. Maybe it doesn’t work when you have clothes on.”
I remembered the dream where I first saw the disk. The tall, ebony-skinned woman had been wearing a thin, loose-fitting robe. Something that could be shucked off at a moment's notice.
I almost said something, but Liz was already peeling her clothes off. Apparently, I didn't have to tell her twice. Seconds later she stood buck naked in the middle of the room. She was so beautiful. I was filled with love and lust for her.
She touched the golden disk. Gold flowed over her. A moment later the golden armor fully covered her.
“Yeah, baby!” she cried.
“This is going to be inconvenient if you have to get naked every time you need to use that thing,” I said, “We need a backpack or something to carry your clothes in.
“I don’t care,” she said, “I just want to blow something up.”
“Well, let’s wait a bit, okay,” I said, “Maybe when we leave you can blow this place up.”
Her golden head turned to me. “Really? You promise?”
I thought of what Kincaid’s face would look like when he found out his house was blown up.
“Sure, why not,” I said.
Liz clanged her armored hands together. "Cool!"
Sixty-Three
It only took moments to find it after I opened myself to the power.
I stood still in the stifling and smelly room of Kincaid’s house. I closed my eyes.
Power up.
I felt it come to life. Every nerve, every fiber of muscle, every cell of my flesh was infused with it. The Dendon device had insinuated itself throughout my entire body. It was me now.
Was this what it had been like for the Dendon king? In the dream, he reached out for the spinning black disk. In another dream, on the ship, his bodyguard asking him about the device. It and I have come to an agreement, more or less.
It that what we were doing, coming to an agreement? Could the device control my body? Could it move my arms and legs? Could it make me into a puppet?
No, I cannot. Though it would be more convenient if I could.
Somehow I managed to not jump out of my skin when the voice spoke in my head.
Why not? I asked it.
Silence. Apparently, that question wasn't worthy of an answer.
“What’s happening?” Liz asked.
I opened my eyes. For a dizzying moment, I saw two golden warriors overlaid. One curvy and Liz height, another tall and slender. I blinked and the image resolved into Liz.
You carry the memories of your king, don’t you? I asked.
I am memory, the device said, voice echoing in my mind.
What else are you?
Silence. I concentrated. Tried to feel the presence in my body. I wanted to isolate it, to make it separate from myself.
Are you vengeance? I asked.
More silence.
Are you power? I asked.
Silence for several seconds. Liz stood like a statue in her golden armor. Finally, an answer came back from the depths of my mind.
I am the conduit of will.
It was a vague, disturbing answer.
“The telemetry on this armor is showing a temperature rise in your body,” Liz said, “I can’t tell how much. The numbers are in alienese.”
“Ask it to translate,” I said.
She paused a moment. “Hey, it did it. Okay, you’re up about three degrees overall. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, the Dendon device is sort of talking to me,” I said, “There’s some sort of intelligence there. Maybe an AI. Maybe something else.”
“What’s it saying?”
“Not much. It said it can’t control me like a puppet. Which is somewhat reassuring, though I’m not sure I believe it.”
“Why not?” Liz asked.
"Because it's controlling everything else about my body. It's not much of a stretch for it to jump in the driver's seat and take off with everything."
Liz was silent for a few moment. “Did it say anything else?”
I looked at my hands. They seemed normal. I did feel a little warm, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I felt pretty good, in fact.
“I asked it if it had memories of the Dendon king. It said it was memory. Then I asked it if it was power.”
“And what did it say?”
“It said it was the conduit of will,” I said.
“Well there you go, nothing to worry about,” Liz said.
“Sure, as long as it’s a conduit of my will.”
She shrugged in her golden armor. “Just assume it is unless you find out otherwise.”
That didn’t reassure me. If I found out otherwise, it would be much too late to do anything about it.
“So what do we do now?” Liz asked, “Start tearing the place apart?”
“Just a minute.”
I thought about what I wanted. I wanted to find hidden things in Kincaid’s house. Show me a floor plan of this house. Then show me where he has hidden things.
A floor plan outlined in green appeared in front of me. There were black dots in the bedroom. Liz and myself.
“Can you see this?” I asked.
“Are you talking to me?” Liz asked, “Because if you are, all I see is you doing a zombie stare
off into space.”
“There’s an image of a floor plan hovering in front of me,” I said, “The device must be projecting in onto my vision somehow.”
An area on the other side of the house blinked red. It was in Kincaid's study. I leaned closer. Fortunately, the image stayed steady and let me zoom in on it. Liz and I had gone through Kincaid's study with a fine tooth comb. There was nothing in it except piles of paperwork and big shelves full of obscure physics books.
“Son of a bitch,” I said, “The jerk is more clever than I thought.” I motioned to Liz. “Come on, I think it’s your chance to break some stuff.”
"Finally," Liz said.
Sixty-Four
Kincaid’s study was as much of a dump as the rest of his house. It made me a little angry. This guy made a lot of money and had a nice house–and he treated it like crap. Much like he treated me like crap.
Why had I kept working for the guy?
The study was done in the same fake adobe style like the rest of the house. Thick, dark colored beams ran across the ceiling. They were supposed to be wood, but looked as plastic as the front door had. The walls, the two that weren’t covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves, were a light cream color with a rough texture. The floor itself, what I could see of it, was a blonde colored wood with prominent grain. The rest of the floor was covered with loose papers or boxes.
The room stank of old farts, book dust and stale cigar smoke.
On the wall next to the narrow slit of a window was an old fashioned blackboard, complete with actual chalk. There were equations written on it. It wasn't anything I could comprehend. That level of math was beyond me.
In the middle of the room was Kincaid’s desk. The desk looked old and real. It sat with a blocky solidity in its dark oak sides that was a little intimidating. It was simple, without adornment. Just big, wooden and solid.
It needed to be to hold up the piles of crap Kincaid had put on it over the years.
Thick books with thin off-white paper and cramped type lay open on one side. Cardboard office totes with stapled sheets curling out of them held down another corner of the massive wooden top. Toward the middle was an old fashioned computer with an LCD screen. The beige plastic case looked quaint sitting next to an equally beige keyboard and mouse. The keys were stained brown with oils and dirt from Kincaid's fingers.
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