Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul

by Peter David

  Mr. Brown, he of the deep, sunken corner of the federal building, looked up in surprise as George Francisco and Matt Sikes seemed to simply materialize in front of his desk. He opened his mouth to say something by way of greeting, but without preamble George said, “Chorboke was involved in Opsil. What human name was he given?”

  Brown blinked owlishly. “I can’t tell you that,” he said with the air of someone who was surprised that such a topic would even be broached. He sounded almost scolding.

  Sikes slammed a palm on his desk. “Somebody’s gonna die if we don’t find him!”

  “That information is still classified,” said Brown serenely.

  Sikes leaned forward. “How would you like me to pull your stomach out through your mouth?”

  “Violence won’t accomplish anything, Sergeant.”

  “Yes it will. It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better. Why is the government protecting him? Answer me!” His voice was getting extremely loud.

  “It’s part of the deal,” sighed Brown. “You want something from somebody, you make a deal. You guys do it all the time.” He actually smiled, as if that explanation was so simple that it solved everything.

  “Chorboke is a monster!” George said, furious. “What could you want from him?!”

  Brown snorted. “Monster. Such a word, monster. The man’s a genius! He knew more about genetics than anyone on earth! You don’t waste a mind like that simply because of negative labels.”

  George lost it.

  He grabbed Brown out of his seat and held him high in the air. Brown’s arms and legs writhed madly. “A ‘genius’?” George spat out. “Do you know how many people this genius tortured and murdered?!”

  “He’s done some great things for this planet! Lemme go!” howled Brown. “This is police brutality!”

  “You’ll need a witness to make that charge stick,” Sikes informed him. “I don’t see anybody else around, do you?”

  George tightened his grip. “What great things? Did he make some chemical weapons? Nerve gas, perhaps?”

  “I was diabetic!” Brown squealed, his voice rising an octave. “If it hadn’t been for Chorboke, there wouldn’t be a cure!”

  There was a dead silence.

  George threw Brown down. He landed in his wheeled chair, and it shot back and smacked into a wall, rattling Brown’s teeth.

  “Thanks for your help, pal,” Sikes called over his shoulder as they strode out.

  “Diabetes . . . Hadrian Tivoli,” said Sikes as they headed for the car.

  “Chorboke,” said George. “And we may have found out too late. By the time we find the child and bring her back—”

  “Then we don’t take the time, George. We take the giant with us.”

  “Grazer will never permit it.”

  “Not a problem,” said Sikes. “We’ll use finesse.”

  Captain Grazer, walking down a corridor, was surprised to see Albert coming from the other direction, wheeling a large laundry cart. He stepped in his path and Albert stopped, looking up at him politely. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Albert, what is this?” He scanned the top of the cart.

  “Laundry, sir. We’re sending these vests out to be cleaned.”

  “Bullet-proof vests?” said Grazer incredulously.

  “Yes, sir. Dry-cleaned, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “Order came down, sir. I was cleaning up in your office when the call came from the chief, sir. Something about trying to improve the look of the force. Actually, he said it was supposed to have been done a week ago and wanted to know if you’d taken care of it.”

  “I don’t remember getting a memo about that,” said Grazer nervously.

  “To be honest, sir, he seemed rather upset that you weren’t there to tell him personally. Something about ‘endless lunches.’ ”

  Grazer swallowed.

  “I’m . . .” Alfred looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid I lied, sir. I told him that you’d already told me to take care of it. I didn’t want to risk him getting more upset with you, sir. He told me that if you already were on top of it, there was no need to call him back. In fact, he sounded kind of pleased that you’d already done it. But if you want, you can call him back and clarify that—”

  “No! No, Albert. That’s . . . that’s fine,” said Grazer. He patted Albert on the back. “Good work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Albert kept on pushing, and then the captain called, “Albert!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  He pointed a finger and smiled. “I owe you one.” He walked away, relieved. Between this and being able to announce that the baby was not a hybrid, he was going to be completely square with the chief.

  Moments later, Albert had pushed the cart into the alleyway. He glanced right and left, and then said, “Okay.”

  Sikes and George clambered out from under the vests, shoving them aside. And then they hauled out the giant, whom they had practically had to bend in half in order to get him to fit. But he had put up no resistance whatsoever. Quickly, they crammed him into Sikes’s car.

  “Albert, you’re a champ,” said Sikes.

  “I didn’t like lying,” Albert admitted. “But . . . it was to help the giant. It was a good cause. And you know, now that I’ve tried lying, I’ve found I’ve got a talent for it.”

  “Good for you,” said Sikes. “You’ll find that’ll serve you well in married life.”

  C H A P T E R 2 7

  TWO SECURITY GUARDS in the front entranceway of Dual Pharmaceuticals looked up in surprise as two uniformed police officers charged in. Their surprise turned to shock when two men in street clothes, one of them a Newcomer, came in on the heels of the two uniformed cops; and shock became pure numb amazement when directly behind the two men in street clothes lumbered in a giant Newcomer who was looking around the lobby as if he were in a sort of haze.

  “Police!” snapped Matt Sikes. “We have a warrant to search these facilities.”

  One of the guards grabbed for a phone, but George—with deathly calm—merely yanked the phone off the wall. He handed the unit to the guard without a word.

  “Keep an eye on these two,” Sikes told the uniforms. They nodded briskly.

  Both of the uniformed cops were Newcomers. Both of them had been friends of Sandy Beach. And both of them, when asked by George and Matt if they wouldn’t mind not noticing that a giant Newcomer was accompanying them on this bust, had simply replied, “What giant Newcomer?”

  Sikes turned to the giant. He had no idea if the big guy could understand him or not. But he said, “Let’s go find her.” He grabbed the giant by one arm, George took him by the other, and they headed upstairs.

  They got in the elevator and Sikes punched all the buttons. The elevator started up as the giant stood there listlessly. The car stopped on the second floor, and there was no reaction from the giant. Nor on the third.

  [“She’s somewhere here.”] said George intensely. [“You have to find her.”]

  No reaction on the fourth. And on the fifth . . .

  The giant looked up. It was more instinctive than anything else, as if he had not consciously realized that he was reacting to something.

  It was enough for Sikes and Matt. They pushed him out onto the fifth floor.

  Before them stretched a corridor with doors lining either side. They were labeled simply “Laboratory A,” “Laboratory B,” and so on.

  They started down the hallway, using the giant as something akin to a Tenctonese divining rod . . . waiting for him to react in some way that would tell them that the infant was nearby.

  “Where is she?” Sikes demanded of the mute giant. “Where is she?”

  The giant’s eyes remained glazed, his face expressionless.

  [“You can do it.”] George urged him.

  They stopped in front of one lab door after the other. “Come on, pal,” Sikes said nervously. For all he knew they were on the wrong floor. “You getting any vibes?”

&n
bsp; And then, in front of the eighth door, the giant suddenly raised his head. But he wasn’t looking at the door they were facing. Instead he seemed to be focused farther down the corridor. He started off at a lumbering run, clumsy but distance-consuming because of the length of his legs.

  “He senses her,” said George with certainty.

  Sikes was in no position to argue. They ran after him as fast as they could.

  They caught up with him, because he had come to a halt in front of a large sealed door marked “No Admittance.” He shoved against it, moaning pitifully.

  “Let’s give him a hand,” said Sikes.

  They threw their weight against the door. With a wrenching crack, the frame gave way and the door flew open.

  It was the interior of a lab. At the far end was a crib, and Hudson River and Bic Penn, both in guard uniforms, looked up in surprise as George shouted, “Police!”

  River was standing in front of the crib, Penn behind it. River immediately went for his gun, and he was a damned quick draw. He actually got the weapon clear of its holster, and then George fired. The blast blew River back, sending him crashing into a wall.

  And now Penn was in the clear.

  But he was holding the baby . . . and a gun to the baby’s head.

  “Back up!” he shrieked. “Back up and get out or I’ll kill her! I swear I will!”

  Sikes and George froze.

  But the giant did not. He did not fully understand the impact of what Penn was saying. All he knew was that the baby was there and was threatened, and he was going to get her no matter what.

  He charged forward, heedless of anything else.

  Penn was startled, not expecting it, and as he saw the giant bearing down on him he did the natural thing—he swung his gun up and fired at the giant. But it was a hurried shot, and a nerve-racking one, considering the behemoth that was charging him. The bullet struck the giant a glancing blow on the arm, and the giant roared.

  At the exact same instant, the baby shrieked in matching pain. She twisted so violently that Penn lost his grip and the baby tumbled out of his arms.

  Seeing the baby falling, the giant hurled himself forward in a desperate lunge. He caught the infant in his outstretched arms just as she reached the ground.

  Penn brought his gun around and was about to fire point-blank. He was not going to miss.

  Neither were Sikes and Francisco. They fired together and Penn was blown completely off his feet, his gun falling out of his hand. Penn crashed backward over an examining table and lay still.

  The giant was oblivious to everything that had happened. He held the infant against his chest tenderly. Then he half turned and angled her toward the detectives, so that they basked in the glow of her angelic face.

  “Thank you,” said the giant, the voice of the infant passing through the mouth of the titan.

  It was at that moment, having a few seconds to breathe, that Sikes and Francisco slowly became aware of their surroundings.

  Eerie geometric shadows crisscrossed the room. There were shelves lining the walls, and each of those shelves had large jars in rows, carefully labeled with dates and notations. They were connected to what appeared to be some sort of giant circulatory feeding system through a common umbilicallike cord.

  And in each of the jars, floating in embryonic fluid was . . .

  “What is this?” demanded Sikes. “Those things in the jars . . . I remember . . . Vessna was . . .”

  “Newcomer pods,” George said coldly. “Yes. He’s creating in vitro life.”

  “That’s correct,” came a passionless voice.

  Tivoli had entered, looking utterly self-possessed. Sikes didn’t like it. He seemed entirely too self-confident for someone who should be concerned about going down big time.

  “Chorboke,” said George in a cold fury.

  “You,” said the Newcomer once known as Chorboke, “have no right to be in here.”

  The giant was whimpering. He clutched the infant tightly to himself and backed away.

  “You’re under arrest, Doc,” Sikes informed him.

  Tivoli laughed. “On what charges?”

  “It should be for the murder of thousands!” George could barely contain himself.

  Trying to keep George on the beam, Sikes said firmly, “The charge is kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping?” Now Tivoli looked extremely amused. “How can I kidnap something that belongs to me?”

  He looked for a long moment at the giant and infant. Although the giant looked as fearful as before, the infant was regarding him with gentle, even thoughtful eyes.

  “It’s my child,” said Tivoli. “I created it.” And he indicated the jars. “Just like these.”

  “What is all this?” demanded George.

  Tivoli spoke with genuine pride, walking in a small circle and waving. “I’m advancing our species. Past you. Past me.” He pointed to the giant. “I came close with that—close to making a purely mental being. A being free of the baser needs of the body. Free to learn, to explore, to create . . .”

  The giant stepped forward now, emboldened by the lack of fear in the infant. As the infant’s gaze locked with Tivoli’s, the giant said proudly, “The body is partner to the mind. It is its vehicle . . . its instrument.”

  “The body is corrupt,” said Tivoli disdainfully. “IT is a prison to the mind.”

  This is insane. He needs a sex class, Sikes thought giddily.

  “We cannot be separated,” said the giant firmly. “We are meant to be one.”

  Tivoli sighed, long and deep. Indicating the giant, he said sadly, “This was a failure. I’ll study it. I’ll learn from my mistakes.”

  “If you succeed, you will only create monsters,” said the giant.

  But George shook his head. “He won’t be creating anything.”

  And Tivoli played his trump card. “The government won’t allow you to prosecute me. We have a deal. You’re wasting your time.”

  And the giant’s voice changed. For just a brief moment, it seemed as if two voices were speaking as one, blended in seamless harmony. “This will not happen,” the giant cried out, outraged by the sheer cold brutality of the being standing in front of them.

  The giant swung a huge arm. Surprised, Tivoli ducked away, and a bottle of ether was caught in the sweep and knocked off the table onto the floor.

  “Stop!” shouted Sikes. “Hold it!”

  Tivoli stumbled back, and his foot hit the gun that the now-deceased Penn had dropped. He grabbed it up and ducked for cover behind a table.

  “Get down!” shouted George, charging toward the giant and knocking him aside.

  George needn’t have worried. Genius, scientist, cold-hearted bastard, all these things Tivoli was. But a marksman he was not. The shot went high and blew one of the overhead lamps free of its moorings, sending it crashing to the floor . . .

  Where the sparks hit the ether.

  A ball of flame erupted from the flammable liquid. The giant staggered back with a roar as a wall of fire immediately leaped into existence, blocking Tivoli from the door.

  Sikes grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and tried to turn it on the blaze. But the flame had already reached another bottle of ether, fueling itself. The flame roared higher.

  Tivoli backed up, trying to angle his way around to an exit. But the new blast of heat drove him back, and he crashed into one of the shelves with specimens on it. The bottles crashed all around him, shelving collapsing on top of that. He was completely pinned by his specimens. It was as if the Newcomer pods were holding him there, waiting for the flames to get to him.

  The fire extinguishers were doing no good whatsoever against the flame. With every passing second it was finding new and even more flammable liquids upon which to feed.

  Sikes tossed aside the extinguisher. George was grabbing the giant, dragging him away and outside of the lab. And then they heard screams and had a brief glimpse of a body aflame, writhing about in agony, surrounded by
unborn Newcomer pods.

  George had heard screams like that before. They were the types of screams that had come from the laboratories where Chorboke performed his atrocities.

  And as Sikes, George, and the giant ran from the lab, ran to safety outside of the building, George reflected on the consistency of it all. Chorboke’s final laboratory had screams coming from it, just as was always the case.

  But these screams were Chorboke’s . . . all Chorboke’s . . .

  C H A P T E R 2 8

  GEORGE AND THE giant leaned against Sikes’s car. A building crawling with firemen was the only kind of place that a seven-foot-tall Newcomer cradling an infant could go pretty much unnoticed. George watched the two creatures in fascination. Then he looked up as Sikes walked over to them.

  “The lab was completely destroyed,” said Sikes.

  He looked at the serene, beautiful face of the infant who once again used the giant as her vessel of communication.

  “What will you do with me now?”

  “It’s not up to us,” George said to the infant. “There’ll be a trial.”

  “Will I be separated again?” asked the giant nervously.

  Sikes didn’t know what to say. He gestured helplessly. “Look . . . we just bring you in. Other people make that decision.”

  There was a long silence. The infant studied the two of them, her expression impassive and gentle as always.

  “I’m not afraid to die,” said the giant with quiet conviction. “But please, don’t let them separate me again.”

  Sikes turned to George. Neither of them needed to tell each other of the pity they were feeling for the pathetic creature. It was written on their faces, and the giant and the infant saw it there as well.

  “I know a place you can take me,” the giant said softly.

  Sikes rolled his eyes, “That’d be a serious breach of regulations, wouldn’t it, George.”

  “Yes,” said George sadly. “I’m afraid it would.”

  “And considering that, it seems there’s only one thing we can do.”

  They were in the middle of nowhere.