For a few seconds, Aubry chewed air, and then he managed to find a smile. "Well. It's that, all right." He stood there for another few seconds, just watching Promise, his mind refusing to function.
Her smile was tight. "Aubry—aren't you going to invite us in?"
"Yeah. Sure."
He stood back away from the door, and opened it wider. Marina smoothed her hair and came to stand next to Aubry. Promise stood an inch taller than Marina, but the reporter outweighed her by perhaps ten pounds.
Marina tried to smile. "So—you're Promise. I've heard about you."
"I wish I could say the same," Promise said. Her voice was husky with some suppressed emotion. Face neutral, she extended her hand and gave Marina's a brief, firm shake.
Promise folded her arms across her chest. "Aubry. I have to talk to you."
"Sit down?"
"Good to see you, Aubry," Leo said, pleasantly enough. He peered into Aubry's face, the flicker of a question in his eyes.
"Is there anyone else out there?"
"Jenna is in a small camp near the north lip of the canyon. If anything comes of this, she'll be ready to move."
Aubry shook his head. "If anything comes of what? What is this about? Why are you here?"
"Aubry . . ." Promise folded her hands. "The NewMen think that we're here to negotiate a construction project. It's as simple as that. We underbid everyone else. They know our work is good, and so we were invited in to take a look and discuss things with Winters and Ibumi."
"Is he back?"
"In the morning. I . . . that's why we have to move quickly." She paused, and a silent communication flashed between her and Leo. "Aubry ... I found the doctor who treated me on Ortega island."
Aubry's eyes narrowed. "Yes ..."
"Aubry," she whispered. "He confessed. He stole our child."
"W-why? In the name of God, why?"
"Because our child was the first Cyloxibin baby. An hermaphrodite. They needed her for some kind of project here."
Bloodeagle paled. "Medusa."
Aubry stood, stalked to the window.
Marina came and sat across from Promise. Her eyes were alight. "Are you sure about this?"
"It was virtually a deathbed confession. The man had no reason to lie. Wu verified the possibility. Aubry—our child is here. No matter what you think of me, or what you intend concerning us"—and here she pointedly avoided Marina's eyes—"you can't turn your back on your child."
Aubry's head spun. Christ! His child. Was it possible?
He didn't want to believe it, and yet . . .
"All right. What do we do?"
Miles was tense and nervous. "Whatever we do, we've got to move before Ibumi and the Gorgons show up— about six hours. We can't try anything with them in the camp. It would be too dangerous."
"Then we have to move now. Where are the children likely to be stored? Is there a nursery?"
"In Bioworks, Aubry." "Where is it?" Leo crossed to the window.
"It's that one," Aubry pointed. "Sort of a dome on spider legs."
"All right. Leo. One of your teams was in there?"
"I wasn't with them."
"All right, but you oversee the work. Can we crack it? If we cracked it, would it do any good? Could we find what we're looking for?"
"We don't have much time to get in. No time for anything clever. I don't have the floor plans or drainage plans, so I can't promise anything if we try to get in from the bottom. I'd think it was pretty secure."
"But the whole camp is secure. What kind of risks are they worried about?"
"Sabotage. DeLacourte has been coming down pretty hard."
"We don't have time for anything clever. Shit!"
Aubry turned to Bloodeagle. "How well is it guarded?"
"You can't get in frontally," Miles said. His lean face was troubled. "Aubry—I don't give a damn about DeLacourte. I hope he burns. But your child—I owe you that."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I can get you in. It will finish me here, but I already owe you my life. If you swear to destroy nothing, and take only your own child, I'll help you. Is that fair?"
Promise took Aubry's hand, gripped it with fierce pressure. "Aubry—please. I have to know."
In Aubry's mind there were no pictures, there were feelings with labels. And the labels read Harris, and DeLacourte, and McMartin, and Gorgon, and Swarna. And the feeling swirled like the infinitely complex motions of combat. Once the question was posed, the combat computer seized the problem like a terrier snapping up a rat, and was worrying it, and worrying it. . . .
He had to know too.
"Bloodeagle, Miles. Identification San Diego Commune 556XY."
The guard at the door was relaxed. "Miles. Yeah. Heard about your rumble in L.A."
"Got pretty hairy. Listen. I need to check records. I've got an interview with Winters in the morning, and if I don't have my facts straight, I won't be able to get a breeding permit."
"Well ..." The guard paused, thinking. "Not really supposed to without a specific pass, but I guess that would be all right."
The lucite door hissed open, and Bloodeagle strode in. "Thanks."
He headed for the elevator. Where was security? The cameras and sensors that watched the door were linked in somewhere. To main camp security, and to the security complex within Bioworks. He took the elevator up one floor, and stepped out, scanning the empty halls. Where was the directory? There, and the security section was listed in the basement. Back into the elevator again, and this time it slid him down to the basement.
The door hissed open. One man was at the center. He was pleasantly ugly but hard-muscled. "You're Bloodeagle, aren't you?"
Miles smiled, allowing his chest to swell slightly, meeting the man's eyes boldly, a slight smile curling his lips. "Haven't we met? I'm surprised. This camp is usually a small place."
"Yeah. What brings you here?" The man was relaxed. Miles's reputation was serving in good stead.
Miles came a little closer, bent over the man's shoulder as if peering at the bank of screens. The physical proximity was powerful, and they were both grinning, acknowledging the tug.
"One of the primaries in my commune is applying for Breeder. I have to discuss the results of the tests."
There was the proper screen, and Aubry was walking up to it now.
The man at the console opened his eyes at the sight of Aubry. "Well, hello . . . he's a big one, isn't he?" He grinned crookedly at Miles. "I've seen him around camp, but didn't know that he was yours. Well, he'll have to wait outside."
"I know." Miles smiled, and dug his thumbs into the man's carotid artery.
Aubry heard the door before he saw it. It hissed, and then trembled, and swung open. The guard at the front shook his head in shock, and then looked at Aubry, who stood by passively.
Aubry blew him a kiss. Confused more than ever now, the guard fought to get through to control for confirmation. The instant that his eyes were off the door, Aubry moved. His feet slammed into the plastic. With the security bolts disengaged, the door shivered and popped out of its lock.
The guard scrambled for his sidearm. Aubry got to him first. The man got off one shot, and Aubry swirled, diving to the side, catching his weight on bent arms, and handspringing back up, jackknifed, and brought both feet smashing into the man's chest. He fell backward and hit the ground. Aubry was on him in an instant. One swift palm-heel strike sent the guard into unconsciousness.
Aubry held the door while Promise, Marina, and Leo entered.
Miles came back up in the elevator. Hurriedly, he switched clothing with the downed man.
"This guy's a little smaller than you."
"So I'll pop a button. Won't be the first time. Get going. I don't know how long this can hold up."
Aubry clasped his friend's shoulder. "Miles—"
"You saved our lives. All of us. It's not too much, Aubry."
Aubry nodded, and hurried to the elevators. The f
our of them entered, and the doors shifted shut. "How long will he be able to hold those doors?"
"It's two in the morning. We're not likely to be interrupted until Ibumi returns. We should be all right."
The elevator stopped at the bottom, and the doors shifted open.
Aubry expected to see the kind of fetal storage facilities that were in Ephesus, and was confused. What there were, all around them, were rooms, booths, where seventeen young children reclined in sleep.
Each was on his separate couch, and each was hooked to a terminal. All appeared to be about thirteen years old.
Aubry walked among them, and felt his skin crawl. One of these children, or someone very much like them, had very nearly killed him outright, in fair combat.
How? Which one? It was impossible to say.
Leo was already at one of the computer consoles.
Promise wandered in the room. "Where are the infants?" she whispered. "I want my child."
"I'll find them," Leo said. Marina wandered through the room, taking photos. She seemed thoughtful.
"What date was the theft?" Leo asked.
"June, 2025."
"All right . . ." Leo typed for a minute. He paused, as lights crawled across the screen. Then he looked up, his face painted with shock. "You're not going to believe this—"
Marina cut in. "The child is in this room."
"What? How could that be? It just can't."
"It can, and it is." He hunched over the display board, shaking his head. "Look at this. Speculation on bone growth and problems with calcium and phosphorus transport. Eighteen-hour-a-day IV feeds." He scrolled the screen, whistling. "They had subcutaneously mounted monitors on the kids, and still lost fifty percent. Look at this projected growth chart—"
The graph climbed as steeply as a skyscraper. "A generation every five years? Domination of a plot of land the size of Zimbabwe in a single century? Don't you see?"
Marina sagged against the console. "Shit. It was right in front of me, Aubry. The NewMen want their own country. That's the dream. A chance to start over. It's what everybody is talking about, but they're going for it. A race of superhuman, hermaphroditic children who reach sexual maturity in four years? You think of the implications."
Leo tapped her arm. "I've got the number—"
"I don't need it," Aubry said.
Six of the children were dark-skinned, and Promise gravitated immediately toward one of them. His face was slender, feminine, with delicate bones. Asleep, he was beautiful, and the sensors lightly attached to the sides of his head were grotesque additions. The label at the side of his bed read "Medusa-16."
"Here," Aubry whispered, and pulled the leads free.
Medusa-16's hazel-brown eyes flew open, and he hissed.
The child shot upright, his hands jabbing instantly at Promise's eyes as it awakened. Aubry moved faster, jerking her out of the way, interposing his own body.
Medusa-16 was still half asleep, and Aubry's hand tapped him along the edge of the jaw with concussive force. He fell back, unconscious.
"Tie his hands and feet."
"You didn't have to hit her so hard." Promise's eyes were scathing.
"Him. You weren't there. You don't know."
Miles got between them. "No time now for talk. We have to get going."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Challenge
Promise knelt next to Medusa-16 in the hovercraft, crying silently.
Was this pale, thin child her offspring? Gently, she unfastened 16's pants and underwear, and new tears came to her eyes as she inspected the dual sexual organs.
What had they done? What had she done? Medusa-16—
"No, I can't call her that," she said softly.
Aubry squeezed back between the rows of equipment. There was very little room for him: the craft was overburdened. The Scavenger engineer and Marina and Bloodeagle were unexpected passengers.
Below them, the night-dark Colorado River flashed by, a twisting black ribbon in the early morning.
"So," Aubry said finally. "What do we have here?"
Medusa-16's eyes flew open and he sat upright, pulling at the straps until they strained tight. The angelic child-face became that of a demon, spitting, hissing, biting at them. One strap popped, whipping up to lash Promise across the face.
Aubry held the child's shoulder down, and Promise refastened the straps.
The child turned and bit, savagely. Aubry roared. "Will you strap this kid down? Christ, but he's strong."
"See? I told you she's ours."
Aubry glared at her. He examined the bite ruefully, and bent to a first-aid kit to take care of it.
Medusa-16 looked at them. "What—do—you—want— with—me?"
"I'm your mother," Promise said quietly.
His face quieted, grew crafty. "You're lying."
"It's the truth," she repeated patiently.
Medusa-16 turned and looked at the man bandaging his arm. "If you are my parents, I hate you. You deserted me. Tried to kill me."
"I don't know who told you that, but it isn't true. You were stolen from my body three years ago, by a man named Allred. This is your father."
16's mouth narrowed. "Your skin is dark, like mine." He peered at Promise. "And you carry Eurasian blood, which would explain my trace of epicanthic fold. There is a remote chance that you speak the truth. It doesn't matter. Ibumi is the only parent I acknowledge. He will kill you with his hands. You are nothing." Medusa-16's eyes grew unfocused for a moment. "I know you. I almost killed you in Oregon." There was a new expression on the child's face, that of grudging respect. "You ... are different from the others."
"My name's Aubry. Yours?"
"Medusa-16. After I finish . . ." The child stopped, as if halting in mid-thought. "I will win my name when I have proven myself."
Promise took one of Medusa-16's hands in her own. The pale, thin fingers locked on hers. "And now," the child hissed, "you will cut me free, or I will crush your hand into paste. Like this."
The small hands closed on hers. Agony flamed up her arm. Her child was crushing her fingers! Oh, God—
She closed her mind to the growing pain. "I . . . can't call . . . you Medusa-16. That's not the kind of name a mother ..." She felt something give in her hand, and tasted blood in her mouth. "... calls her child."
Aubry started forward, and she shook her head in negation.
"I think I'll call you . . . Leslie." Her eyes locked with the child's in a deadly serious battle of wills.
The pressure stabilized. Then slackened.
The child looked at them, his hazel-brown eyes examining them. He looked at Aubry. "What do you want with me?"
With returning circulation, pain flooded into Promise's hand. "I love you. You're my child. What other reason do I need?"
Leslie pressed back into the cot. "Love? A word one person uses to enslave another."
Promise slowly pulled her hand up to her face and nursed it. It throbbed horribly.
"You are . . . brave," Leslie said. The hermaphrodite's voice grew questioning. "You want me to believe you would have born me into the world through your body?"
"Of course," she whispered.
"There is pain. There is risk."
"Nothing today, compared to what women have suffered throughout history."
"I . . . might be asked to bear children." Leslie looked down at his body, childish voice husky with excitement. "I have never talked with a woman about these things. I am sorry that you must die. There are things I could learn."
"I—"
"Aubry—" Jenna's voice was urgent. "We've got a bandit on the screen."
Aubry went forward to the cockpit. Through the windows to either side, Promise saw the walls of the canyon flashing by, and heard the hail. "Warning—this is the communications officer for Gorgon. We are tracking. You cannot escape. We warn you ..."
"Do you see?" Leslie asked, eyes questioning. "I don't understand. You may be the source of my genetic m
aterial. I don't understand, but it may be. Perhaps I was stolen from you. Little else explains the current circumstances. More likely you are deluded. But you have to know that you couldn't get away. Why did you try?"
"I love you," Promise said. "I don't know what they're doing to you. My God. You're only three years old. I came expecting to find someone who could barely count to ten. And here you are—you have to be feeling things inside your body. Changes."
"Yes," Leslie admitted reluctantly.
"The changes get stronger. I don't have time. Oh, GodJ there's no time at all. But I have to try. If I'm killed, Leslie. If I die—I don't know what these people want of you, but it can't be good. Not if they give you a number until you earn a name. I love you because I can't help it."
"If you have no choice, how can that be real?"
"You sound just like your father. Feelings are real, Leslie. There's nothing realer than that. It's a lie to think that your intellect makes your decisions. Whatever you're doing, whatever you're going to do, you're doing it because you want the approval of the monsters who have programmed you."
Leslie grinned at her nastily. "Not long now, it said."
"Not long."
The skimmer jolted horribly. "Damper field!" Jenna screamed. "They have some sort of damper field."
Marina groaned. "Of course they do! Hell, they used it in Nigeria last month. As soon as they get a clear shot they're going to bring us down."
"Then I'm going down now."
Jenna jolted the skimmer up over the lip of the canyon, streaking it toward a great tumbled tower of stone.
Aubry grabbed Jenna. "You've got to get out as soon as we touch down. Bloodeagle, Promise, Leo, and 16 they know about—they won't stop looking. But if you can get Marina to safety, she might be able to help."
"I'm not leaving."
"Dammit, Jenna, this isn't about pride. Someone's got to get to safety, and put this whole thing together."
Jenna cursed vilely. She looked back at Promise.
Leslie looked at her with interest. "Jenna. Brood mother Ariane? Lot 17. Highly rated for personal arms. Highly rated personal combat. Formidable. Security chief, Ephesus."
Promise's eyes were beseeching. "Get out, Jenna. Aubry's right."
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