by Terry Brooks
He leans forward. “Genetic manipulation is here to stay. Hybrids are a part of our lives. Bots and synths and all the others serve us in nearly every capacity. But people in general don’t respond well to changes in the human condition. Those made of flesh and blood don’t like the idea of people that are synthetic. They want things to go back to the way they were.
“But things never go back. They only go forward. Change is inevitable. Change is the one constant. Your father understood that much, at least. He kept pressing ahead, working with new cures and developing new hybrid life-forms. Now others will take up where he left off. Who knows where it will all end? One day soon, these new creations may even replace us! The possibility is there. So if we wish to preserve our species, we better take control of how our population develops, and that starts with building a strong, cohesive, like-minded human race that will act as a unified entity.”
Ash is stunned. He knows it is wrong to force people to conform. No matter the reason, no matter the cause, conformity is always about getting people to do what you want them to do. Which inevitably means someone must tell them what to do. Clearly his father understood this much better than his brother. Cyrus, he thinks, probably never even tried to understand.
“But you experimented on kids!” he argues.
“Street trash, nephew. Discards and refuse. ’Tweeners. Kids who had no purpose in life. Kids with no homes and no hope. Kids picked up off the streets as a public nuisance. Kids given to us by their parents because they were so damaged they were on the verge of dying. Every great scientific breakthrough requires sacrifice. It isn’t any different here. BioGen needed live subjects for their experiments. We had to take the ones we could find. Or create, like synths and hybrids. Most of them reacted positively to what was done to them, and those we released. But there were failures, of course. Those failures needed to be understood if they were to prove of any real value. Why didn’t the enhancements we made work on them? Why were some of them so resistant to what we were doing?”
“Like the kids at Street Freaks.” Ash makes it a scathing indictment. “They resisted being what you wanted them to be.”
“I would have terminated them all if your father hadn’t begged me to save them. But your father was the genius behind everything we were doing. It would have been ungrateful to refuse him his pathetic little handful of salvaged ingrates. Besides, BioGen’s experimentation with enhancements and reconstruction was pretty much over by then. We had a larger, more far-reaching goal. Brantlin had discovered his miracle drug, and we were already testing it on other street kids. And it was working.”
Ash shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re trying to justify killing kids!”
Cyrus Collins shrugs. “We had to discover what had gone wrong. We had to know how to fix what wasn’t working. It was unfortunate but necessary.”
Ash is seething. “You can’t justify what you did! Doesn’t matter where these kids came from! My father was right not to agree to this!”
“Well, he might not have agreed with it, but he let it happen! Except for those precious few he saved to placate his conscience. I thought it might be enough to keep him quiet. I was wrong. Nothing would satisfy him. He just couldn’t make himself see the larger picture. He couldn’t accept the fact that the termination of a few lives would result in the salvation of many.”
“You threatened him,” Ash says. “That’s why he couldn’t do anything! You told him you would hurt me!”
His uncle’s smile is cold. “Is that so? It’s all about you, is it? All of it was an effort to protect you. What a noble fellow, your father. What a paragon of virtue. I don’t suppose he happened to mention anything about his special relationship with Cay, did he?”
The question hangs in the air, dark and terrible. For an instant, Ash hesitates. “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do. Maybe your father kept quiet about what was happening not because of you but because of her. Maybe what really mattered to him was the possibility of losing his own personal pleasure toy. Maybe what really mattered was my threat to take her away from him. Cay did tell you about the two of them, didn’t she? You did know what she was to him?”
Ash stares. All the breath goes out of him. “Shut up.”
His uncle shrugs carelessly. “He wasn’t the man you seem to think he was. So don’t hold him up to me as an example of righteous behavior.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, whether you believe me or not changes nothing. The fact remains—he took something from me that wasn’t his to take. And since he’s no longer with us, you have to be the one to give it back. I can’t have anyone interfering with my plans at this point. I’m not going to let that happen.”
Ash takes a deep breath. His thoughts roil, and he feels something drop away inside. His father and Cay. How much of it is true? He wants to believe that none of it is, but a small voice tells him maybe he should open his eyes a little wider.
“I don’t have what you want,” he manages, the words sounding hollow. “It doesn’t matter about my father and Cay. I can’t help you.”
“The last call your father made on his vidview was to you. I checked the vidview records after he fell. He must have told you something. Don’t pretend he didn’t. Don’t lie to me.”
“Too bad you weren’t able to keep my father alive so he could tell you himself!” Ash snaps, his temper slipping its tether completely. “Try telling the truth, uncle. You killed my father, didn’t you? Just like you killed the Shoe. And who’s responsible for T.J.? That’s on you too! Why don’t you just admit it! Or are you going to keep claiming all those deaths were necessary for the greater good?”
The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Cyrus Collins stares coldly. Ash knows immediately he has gone too far.
His uncle shakes his head slowly. “You just won’t see reason, will you? Just like your father. I thought there was a chance with you—that you would be quicker to understand the situation. Guess not.”
He makes a dismissive gesture. “I’m done wasting my time on you. It appears we are going to have to do this the hard way. What happened to your father is going to happen to you, nephew, if you don’t pay close attention. He had his chance and botched it. Now you have yours. I don’t have the top of a building to throw you off, but I do have other choices.”
“You did kill him,” Ash hisses back.
Cyrus Collins gives an indifferent shrug. “What matters is that his death was quick; yours won’t be. So listen closely. This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me everything your father told you. You’re going to give me anything he gave you. You’re going to do that right now. If you don’t, I will start hurting you. I will break off parts of your body. The softer, less resistant ones first. Then the harder ones. And I will keep doing this until you will wish you were dead.”
He pauses. Any hint of friendliness has vanished from his face. “Or maybe you would like me to start with your beloved pleasure synth while you watch. Shall I wake her? If you prefer, I can hurt her instead of you. I’ll take my time with her. I’ll do unspeakable things to her. I’ll leave her with nothing you would ever want any part of.”
Ash goes cold all the way through. Cyrus Collins is a hard man, and this is not an idle threat. He will do what he says.
His uncle sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t want this, but you’re forcing it on me. And it won’t end well for you, nephew. Torture of this sort does things to your mind. Things you cannot imagine. I’ve seen it happen. Somewhere along the way, you will beg me to let you tell whatever you know.”
His uncle’s voice is calm. He might be describing the weather or a lunch menu. It is taking everything Ash has to stand there and not bolt. Get out, get out, get out, his mind is screaming at him. His eyes skid from one corner of the room to the next, searching for an escape route. But he cannot find one.
�
�You make me lose my temper and say and do things I would rather not,” Cyrus Collins says softly. “But what’s done is done. It’s your turn. Tell me something that will save your life. Do it quickly.”
“All right!” Ash snaps. “Maybe I do know something. Why don’t you stop threatening and let me help Cay. Maybe that will jog my memory.”
He is talking fast, still trying to stall. He knows he can’t say anything about the thumb drive Cay carries in her pocket. It would mean that everything he has gone through would have been for nothing.
Abruptly, he remembers the wasp sting tucked in his belt behind his back. He reaches back as if trying to push himself to his feet, still talking.
“Okay, maybe we could make a bargain. You let Cay and me go, and I give you . . .
But his uncle is on top of him instantly, yanking him off the couch. Still holding him with one hand, he hits Ash squarely in the nose with the other. Blinding pain floods the boy’s face as his nose breaks. He sags away, both hands reaching up protectively, tears leaking from his eyes. His uncle continues to hold him firmly in place as he backhands him twice. Ash cries out, the sound loud and sharp, a ringing in his ears. The pain blossoms until he is in agony.
His uncle snatches the wasp sting from behind his back and tosses it aside. Then he flings Ash backward onto the couch once more. Fresh pain flares behind his eyes as his head bounces off the backrest.
“Planned on using that toy on me, did you?” His uncle is breathing hard.
“If I got the chance!” Ash’s words are angry, defiant. He spits blood.
Cyrus grins. “Chances come and go, nephew. That particular one is gone. I’m tired of this whole business. Tell me what you know. Better hurry. My patience is about used up.”
The pain from Ash’s broken nose is crushing. Blood is running down his throat. Whatever happens next will probably be even worse. But he knows he cannot give in.
His uncle drags him back to his feet. “You’re not playing with amateurs, nephew. How do you think I found out about you and your little synth? I was already suspicious when she started cozying up to me after running off with your father. When I saw the two of you together, I knew what it meant. I’d had cameras installed at your old home after you fled it. I thought you might return at some point. I was waiting for it. But I guessed wrong about what you would do next. I never imagined you would break into ORACLE. You and those ’tweeners your father managed to talk me out of destroying. You shot the hell out of my security and violated Blue Skye. For you to go to that extent, there had to be something you wanted badly. What was it?”
He strikes the boy across the face again and gives him another shove onto the couch. Ash sprawls there, his head spinning, pain ratcheting through him. He can barely focus his thoughts.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cay’s fingers twitch. Her arm moves, then her head. She is waking up.
“You’re right,” he says. “We thought what we needed was at ORACLE, so we decided to break in. We were searching for information about what you were doing, but we never found it.”
“Is that so?”
“And my father didn’t tell me anything in that last vidview. Just for me to get out. He’d warned me two years ago. I thought he was nuts.”
His uncle starts moving in a direction that will put Cay directly in his line of sight. Ash stands up quickly to distract him.
His uncle’s weapon comes up at once. “Careful, nephew.”
Ash stands his ground. “Why don’t you admit it? You plan on killing me as soon as I tell you what you want to know. Why do you keep pretending you have anything else in mind? Why keep lying about it?”
Cyrus Collins takes a step closer, as if to better control the situation. His eyes stay locked on Ash. “I guess you’ll never know, since you don’t have anything to say.”
Cay is fully awake now. She lies on the floor facing them, her eyes fixed on Cyrus Collins.
“Cyrus!” she shouts. “Don’t!”
Cyrus turns and points his weapon at her. Ash immediately throws himself at his uncle—no hesitation, an instinctive response. He is half his uncle’s size and unarmed, but all he can think about is Cay. He slams into what feels like a wall, pain exploding anew through his damaged nose and face. But his momentum is sufficient to knock his uncle off his feet as he fires his weapon. The charge misses Cay and strikes a wall. Ash goes down on top, his fists pummeling Cyrus Collins wildly.
For a moment or two, they are a tangle of arms and legs. Ash manages to get both hands on the stun gun, forcing the barrel away from him. But Cyrus is hitting him repeatedly, his fist hammering into the boy’s already damaged face. The pain is excruciating; the blood from his wounds runs freely in scarlet rivulets. His vision is dotted with bright flashes. Somehow he hangs on. Skin rips from his knuckles and blood is everywhere. He catches a glimpse of Cay as she dives for the wasp sting his uncle cast aside earlier. She snatches it up while still on her knees and turns.
He hears her weapon discharge, a sort of loud snap followed by a high-pitched whirring. Cyrus Collins jerks sharply, grunts, and drops his weapon. Cay’s stun gun scrambles his motor nerves, but he manages to yank Ash in front of him to use as a shield. Cay tries to find an opening so she can fire again but cannot.
Then Cyrus throws Ash into her, momentarily tangling them up. Ash struggles to get free, but Cyrus is lurching toward them like a drunkard, roaring in rage and frustration. He reaches Cay and fastens his hands about her throat. She fights to free herself, but the hands tighten and she begins to gasp for air.
Ash scrabbles at the carpet in search of the wasp sting, and his hand closes on the metal grip. He seizes it, aims it at the back of his uncle’s bullish neck, and fires. His uncle stiffens, grunts, and starts to rise.
Ash fires again, and this time Cyrus Collins goes limp, collapsing in a motionless heap.
Cay rises, gasping for air. She looks as if she is possessed, anger radiating off her face in a visible shimmer. She snatches the wasp sting from Ash, fumbles with it a moment, and then hobbles over to his uncle. She gives Cyrus a cursory glance, pulling him up and shoving him back down again. Apparently dissatisfied with what she sees, she presses the barrel of the wasp close to his head and fires twice more.
Then she limps back to Ash and helps him sit up. They stare at each other. There is a moment of shared relief, of understanding that goes beyond words. Ash glances away first. But Cay reaches out and touches his face, and he turns back again.
“Look at you,” she says.
“No, thanks,” he mumbles. His face is so badly swollen he is barely able to talk.
“You’re a mess.”
“I know.”
“Could have been worse.”
“Oh, really? How?”
“We could be dead.”
He glances over at his uncle, sprawled motionless on the floor in front of them, a grim reminder. “We almost were.”
She sits next to him, pressing close, looping one arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t respond. A long moment passes as he continues to look away. How did things come to this?
Then she says, “Remember when we first met and I asked you if you wanted to be my advocate if anyone tried to say I wasn’t a real girl?”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “I remember I took the job.”
“Yes, you did. I’m giving you a promotion. Personal bodyguard.”
He laughs, coughing painfully as he does so. He looks at her in disbelief. “I’m pretty sure I’m not up to it.”
She gives him a smile that cuts to his heart. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She leans forward to kiss him gently on his cracked and swollen lips. “I’m pretty sure you are.”
- 30 -
Her kiss is a sun coming out from behind dark clouds to brighten his world, and when she looks in his eyes, Ash is so in love it hurts.
“Your nose needs to be set,” she tells him. She helps him move over to the couch and sit back so he can brace hims
elf. “Hold very still. This will just take a moment.”
She places her palms carefully on both sides of his nose and tightens her grip gently. She is very close to him, her face inches from his. He can see every mark—every cut, bruise, and contusion—she has suffered. Then he gazes into her startling blue eyes and feels everything else slip away.
“Steady,” she whispers.
Then, with a sudden movement, she jerks his nose back into place. Fresh pain rockets through him, and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut as his tears come anew.
“All done,” she says.
“Easy for you to say.”
She takes his hands in hers and pulls him to his feet. “We better make sure all this has been worth it. Let’s find out if we have what we need to put an end to it.”
He nods, and she leads him over to where her computer is closed away within a locked cabinet and brings it out. Together, they power it up, insert the thumb drive, and wait for it to open. They work in silence. Ash glances over his shoulder to where Cyrus Collins lies motionless. Cay never bothers. It’s as if she has decided he no longer exists. Her eyes remain fixed on the screen, her fingers on the keyboard. Within seconds the contents of the thumb drive appear on the screen. They glance again at each other’s damaged faces, grinning broadly.
It is all there.
Charts showing the territories into which the doctored Sparx have been introduced.
A timetable for introducing Sparx into the rest of the United Territories.
Areas considered especially troublesome and which, it has been decided, require special attention.
Formulas of varying strengths to be used in fresh batches of Sparx according to the perceived need for behavioral control.