Shards [Book Three]

by Peter W Prellwitz

Then after another long time, she started going very stiff and her eyes stopped being bright. White stuff that didn't smell nice came out of her mouth and her nose started to bleed. She was very, very thirsty, but I couldn't give her any water because her mouth was closed. The white stuff came out of the holes in her lip where she had bitten through. Her blood was pink and runny. It wasn't as dark and sticky as mine was. I wondered if she was going to come back and call me Princess again.

  Her body went all quiet and she was dead. Only then she wasn't dead. I knew her body wasn't going to let her insides go. Her body went stiff, and then she died again. Then she started making croaking sounds and died again. Then her arms started moving around by themselves and she died again. Then she looked at me with her dull eyes and she died again. And then her body became very very very tight and I heard some bones cracking inside her, and she died again. But this time it was the last time, and she wasn't going to call me Princess any more.

  “Child?” It was Dorothy, and she was next to me. I stood up.

  “Hi, Dorothy. The lady is dead."

  “I know. I saw."

  “Her name was Ellen. She called me Princess. Did the man die?"

  “Yes, he died about five hours ago."

  “Oh. Is that a long time?"

  She looked down at the dead lady whose name had been Ellen.

  “To some, child, it's an eternity."

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  "Major Deiley?"

  Deiley's eyes came open at once. His mind awoke nearly as quickly. He was in bed and the computer was calling to him.

  “Yes?"

  “You have a priority alpha call waiting for you in the puter study. The caller did not identify himself and could not be identified."

  “Thank you. Please prepare a mint tea with lemon."

  “Very good, sir.” There was a barely audible click as the system returned to monitoring mode.

  Deiley wasted no time dressing for the call. He was not a vain man and knew that whoever would call at this hour wanted to speak to him, and not a uniform. He drew on a robe over his pajamas and walked to his living room. At his entrance, the computer accessed him into the puterverse and placed him in his study. Instead of a desk, there appeared a terminal. That meant it the call was from Far Bank, his ultimate superior. He stepped in front of the terminal He did not salute, for both he and Far Bank considered it a waste of time in this setting.

  “Yes, sir?"

  “You have in your compound a shard named Abigail Wyeth,” Far Bank said without preamble.

  “Yes, sir.” He was not surprised about the reason for the call.

  “Her other named human persona is Miss DeChant,” Far Bank prompted flatly.

  “Yes, sir. I have placed a twenty-four hour guard at her quarters. Full report available, of course.” He gestured with his right hand and a tabinal appeared. He glanced at it briefly. “She is currently sharded as the pleasure ripe and is at the Resistance base."

  “You have not attempted to neutralize this base?” it asked without accusing.

  “Quite the contrary. I make it a policy to never interrupt their operations. It allows for the smooth nature of Glendale to continue. Attacking a base providing me a service has no merit."

  “Very practical. You have contacts within the base?"

  “I have three, sir. At the moment, none of the three has had direct interaction with Miss Wyeth. One has spoken to the pleasure ripe shard."

  “And the shard's progress toward dissolution?"

  Deiley glanced again at the report. “Her sharding incidents have increased substantially in the past three weeks. We've confirmed eight episodes and estimate an additional four to six. It's difficult to project a dissolution time, but judging by the individual's mental toughness, outside support, and the nature of the false personas, my people estimate four months until dissolution, with an error of six weeks on either side. I apologize for the vagueness, sir."

  “Apology unwarranted.” Far Bank replied. “You are personally involved with the Miss DeChant ripe."

  How Far Bank had discovered this was irrelevant. That it was discovered was very relevant. Deiley did not try to calculate how much to divulge. He had anticipated this event and had already prepared a response. It was not possible to deceive Far Bank. It was possible to withhold undocumented information. He would tell Far Banks everything. That did not mean he had given up. He replied immediately.

  “Yes, sir. She served as my housemaid for several weeks after a squad of my men had raped her in performance of their duty. One of her personas, I suspect the original one, is capable of using microsats to bombard an area with remarkable accuracy. It was my intention to take Miss Wyeth at the proper moment and extract this knowledge."

  “For what purpose, Major Deiley?"

  “Primarily for personal gain, sir, with a secondary goal of providing the information to NATech Supreme after it had served my purpose.” Deiley was taking a calculated risk. Far Banks was able to penetrate any lie, and appreciated subordinates who did not attempt to hide the fact that they had ulterior motives. Still, the flat truth, as he told it, was grounds for execution. For Deiley, the risk paid off.

  “Good. You are a refreshing individual, Major, and I applaud your wisdom. I have need of the woman as well, but for different reasons that are not your concern. You will abandon your plan and accelerate the timetable of Wyeth's dissolution. I want her mind ready for harvesting within two weeks, Major."

  “Yes, sir. Two weeks will be difficult, sir. I can capture her and subject her to physical and mental torment. That will greatly accelerate the process as long as she's either Miss Chant or Miss Wyeth. The pleasure ripe is immune to such tactics. We will require four weeks to induce dissolution, sir. We might possibly do it in three."

  “Very well, Major. You have four weeks. Begin immediately.” The terminal blanked out and the study walls faded away, leaving Major Deiley in his living room.

  He went to the kitchen and retrieved his tea. Stirring in the lemon wedge, he contemplated his next action. Capturing the girl would be fairly easy, and within his own schedule, if somewhat early. He would initiate that action immediately. Indeed, if he followed orders, the entire operation was straightforward. There was nothing to think about, the orders were so clear cut.

  All he needed to do was decide if he were going to follow those orders.

  * * * *

  “Child! Wait up!” Dorothy called out softly. “You're too bouncy for me!"

  I turned around and giggled. I was on top of a pile of bricks and stones. It was almost morning, so I could see Dorothy still at the bottom, so I sat down and waited for her. She reached the top, a smile on her face, which made me happy. I looked up at the sky that was still dark in most places, but was turning a pretty pink in one corner.

  “Isn't this a nice day, Dorothy? Thank you for taking me home. Will you stay with me all day?” She sat down next to me.

  “Well, I don't know about all day. I'll want to do a little cleaning and baking."

  “The oven doesn't work."

  “Well, I might be able to coax a little bit out of it.” She clapped her hands to her shoulders and rubbed them, like she liked herself. It looked like fun, so I did it, too. She laughed.

  “My! But it's a chilly one this morning!"

  “I know! Look, Dorothy, I can see my breath!” I breathed out and some smoke came out of my mouth. It was fun, so I did it again.

  Dorothy tried it, too, and we laughed. Then Dorothy stood up and helped me to my feet.

  “That's very good, child. Now let's get to your room. I can make us some hot chocolate and we can spend the morning napping.” She yawned and stretched, looking very pretty. “Then this afternoon, we'll clean up the place and do the wash. I rather think that Miss DeChant didn't have time yesterday."

  “Miss Deshard started to make some bread, but went away after that and left it in a big mess on the table.” I showed her my hands. “And she got s
ome on my hands, too, but I cleaned them off!"

  “Good girl. It's nice to stay clean when you can. It shows that you like yourself."

  “It does?"

  “Yes. But let's talk about that after we get to your room, all right?"

  “Okay. I'll go first, Dorothy! Then you come after me.” I ran down the pile of rocks, falling only once. My hands got bloody from a sharp piece and it felt nice. But it wasn't a big cut, and anyway nobody who owned me did it, so I just licked it off then ran to the bottom.

  I looked up to see if Dorothy was behind me, but then the eyes inside my chest saw something and I looked up the street. It was still all black and they were inside a building, so I couldn't see them with my eyes in my head. But I could still see them. I heard Dorothy stop next to me.

  “What is it, child?” Her voice was quiet-sad. She was looking at my hand.

  “Over there, Dorothy.” I pointed at the building where they were. “There's people in there and they want to hurt us."

  Just as I pointed, they came out of the building. They were men and there were five of them and they were carrying things that they wanted to hit us with. I knew they were good at hitting from the way they held them. I felt Dorothy yank me towards the alley.

  “Hurry, child! We've got to get out of here! Run!” Dorothy pulled out her gun, and I knew that this kind of hurting wasn't for fun. It was fun for me, but not for Dorothy, so that meant it wouldn't be fun for me. So we both ran.

  Dorothy was very fast, but stayed behind me. Her face was a little like Miss Deshard's face in the room, only her hair didn't have as much gray and her skin was a little softer. But not as soft as mine. I kept running, feeling afraid that these people wanted to take me away from Dorothy and Alan and Abigail. And that wasn't right.

  They were running fast, too, and getting closer.

  “Call it off, boys!” Dorothy yelled at them in her loud, mean voice. “I'm a Resistance dog and this Cue is under my protection. This is your only warning!"

  But they kept running after us, so Dorothy shot her gun at them. It didn't make any sound but it did make a squeaky noise, but one of them fell down with all kinds of blood coming out of a hole in his neck. Dorothy didn't fire again, and the others kept coming after us.

  And then Dorothy fell down. She tripped over some stuff in the alley and her gun fell away. I stopped and ran back and helped her up and then we ran away again. Now the bad men were very close. But we were almost at my home. It was just up in front of us, around the corner.

  We went around the corner and ran to the door. Then I had an idea.

  “Dorothy! Go run into the field! The man is in that building and he's a nice man!"

  “What man?” She asked, but then she did what I said, going in front. I looked at the men who were really close.

  “You stay away! You're not my owners!"

  One of them, who was big and smelled like he didn't like himself smiled at me. “Hey, princess, you're here and you're a shard. That makes you ours."

  “Don't call me Princess!” I screamed, sad that they said that. Only Alan and the lady who died could call me that. Dorothy could, too. Dorothy! I ran after Dorothy. One of the men reached out and touched me, scratching my shoulder, but I got away.

  Dorothy had fallen down again. She was very tired and anyway there were lots of bumps and holes in the field. She was holding a leg.

  “Dorothy! Get up! The nice man in the building will help us!"

  “I'm not going anywhere, child. My leg is hurt. It's up to you ... Abigail."

  I was standing in a field. It was early morning. Dorothy lay at my feet and I heard racing footsteps approaching behind me. I spun around. There were four of them.

  * * * *

  It was as the corporal expected. The girl had been too careless and now she had attracted a pack of ripers. Fortunately, she'd had the good—and uncanny—sense to run toward him. He knew that with the other woman there, his presence was revealed. No matter. He toggled the rifle to full power and nestled the crosshairs on the head of the riper nearest the two women. He paused for a flicker of time, then squeezed the trigger. The range was just under two hundred meters, so this was child's play.

  His target jolted back as the megawatt plasma beam penetrated his face. His head disappeared and a red mist took its place. The rifle pinged a small tone behind his ear half a second later, indicating it was recharged. Half a second only, but the corporal had already lined up on his second target and was squeezing the trigger There was a tickling sensation over his arms and face as the already ionized air around him fed back the surplus, and again a riper's head disappeared in a cloud of steam and blood.

  The momentum of the ripers had carried them close to the women, and although two were dead, the remaining two were too close to risk a shot. The women were on their own. That was not a bad thing, though, judging by the sudden change in the demeanor of the girl. If she had sharded back to the original persona, this would be a brief fight. He continued to peer through his sight, both to get a shot off if possible and to learn more about the girl's fighting techniques.

  * * * *

  I fell into an aggressive defense posture as the first one charged down on us. I moved two steps forward, preparing to kick, but the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and the man's head vaporized. Someone had a plasma rifle and was shooting it at full power and with great accuracy.

  The second one was right behind him, and he too died, a mist of blood spattering over me. I sidestepped to allow the headless body to collapse past me, and prepared to attack the third one.

  There would be no more shots from my benefactor because the remaining two were far too close. The one reaching for me now had a look of terror on his face. He'd been caught in the open and had found out we had a friend. His only way off that field was to use me as a shield. Because of that, he couldn't kill me. I had no such restriction toward him. Nor would I hesitate. From his sloppy dress, it was clear he was a riper.

  I needed to kill him quickly to deal with the fourth man, so I shot my right hand forward, fingers curled tightly to expose my knuckles, and drove them into his throat. The tendons and muscles in his neck snapped and tore. He made to scream, but his throat collapsed in on itself, choking him. He had been coming to a stop, but his injury made him stagger past me. I stepped quickly behind him and spun hard, driving the heel of my right shoe into his temple, crushing it and killing him. That left one more.

  And he was a big one. He stood a good two meters tall and looked big enough to show up on radar. There would be no neck or head shots with this one. At least, not until I whittled him down some. I went to a close attack posture, preparing to disable him with a kick to the stomach. Then he pulled out a knife.

  The knife changed everything. This was no longer a fair fight. If Dorothy and I were going to live, I needed to change the odds. I knew just how to do it.

  The beast rose up in me and I felt all emotion drain away. He had a knife and he was charging me. The blade slashed across, cutting high at my chest. I dropped to one knee and knocked his arm up over my head. His bull charge threatened to knock me over, but he was quite large, so I slipped between his legs, driving the heel of my hand up hard into his crotch as he passed over. He grunted. I then kicked at the back of his right knee with my left foot. It buckled and tore, but he retained his balance and turned. I spun around and fell into a crouch. He came at me slowly this time, the knife in front of him, edge up to more easily penetrate under my rib cage.

  I looked him hard in the eyes, gauging his skill and nerve. Even in the vague light of early dawn, I could see he had little of the first and an abundance of the latter. That combination meant I needed to induce the attack. I shot a hand forward and grasped his knife wrist. The blade dragged along my forearm, drawing blood, but not doing any real damage.

  Expecting me to jerk him forward, he yanked his hand back. But instead of resisting, I stepped up with him and threw his arm up He was now off balance, falling
backward. I stepped in even closer, then twisted sideways when I sensed his knife arcing down. I grabbed his plunging knife arm a second time and guided the blade into his belly. He stepped back to regain his balance, but was forced to put his weight on his torn knee. He screamed and dropped to his knees, fighting the pain in his leg and the pain in his belly. A second later, he was fighting the pain in his right eye as I jabbed a thumb into it. Instinctively, he released the knife and clasped his injured eye. I yanked the knife free, then buried it straight down into his chest.

  His left fist thudded against my body, shaking me to the core of my being and slamming me to the ground. The price I had to pay for close combat. There was a fire in my lungs as I scrambled to my feet. Fortunately, the fight was over. He coughed once, then fell face down into the dirt and dried grass of the field. He died and the beast went back to sleep.

  I turned toward the abandoned warehouse on the far edge of the field. In the growing light, I could make out an opening about ten meters above the ground. That would be the most likely spot for a sniper. But whose sniper?

  Time to worry about that later. Right now, I needed to get Dorothy and me off this field and into my room before we were spotted again.

  Dorothy was still down, but struggling to her feet. She was rubbing her leg, but it looked as though it would be all right. She looked at me, a pained smile on her face.

  “Nice entrance, child. Sorry to snap you out like that. Dangerous. Still, it seemed better than the alternative."

  I laughed, then coughed, feeling like I'd been stabbed in the chest. It was painfully surprising how breathing chilly air seemed to fan the flames in my lungs.

  “C'mon. Let's get to my room. I need to lie down.” I started to sag to my knees, but Dorothy helped me up. She slung my arm over her shoulder and I yelped. She pressed a couple of experienced fingers over my chest and ribs. Wanting to salvage some shred of pride, I winced but didn't yell again. She nodded glumly.

  “You need more than that, dear. You're going to need some treatment. You've got at least two cracked ribs. You're lucky in one way. Cheryl will be stopping by the base this evening.” Cheryl Weaver was our itinerant doctor. We staggered the short distance to the entrance to my room.