by Jack Heath
Then Six slammed down onto the tiles. His feet touched first, and his knees buckled. His legs were too far to one side and they slipped out from under him. He cried out as he felt his spine crunch underneath his weight. The back of his skull bounced against the floor, and suddenly there was a pounding noise in his brain.
“No miracle this time, Six? You can jump off dams, you can dive off buildings, you can leap off cranes, drive down cliffs, ride flying jeeps into missiles, but a four-story drop onto some broken glass finishes you off?”
Six tried to focus. There was a dark shape looming over him, pointing at him with a long dark finger. He blinked a few times, and saw it was a gun.
“I’m glad I didn’t hire you,” Crexe continued. “Your rebellious spirit is bad enough, but it seems that you’re weak physically as well. Maybe, up until now, you’ve just been lucky.”
Six heard a gurgling sound to his right. Blinking blood out of his eyes, he rolled his head over to look, and saw Sevadonn. Sevadonn’s legs were both broken, and one of his arms was mangled. He was dragging himself towards Six with his good arm, staring at him through filmy crimson eyes.
Crexe fired twice, and Sevadonn stopped moving. “Sorry, but you were always dispensable, and I’ve wasted quite enough money for one day.”
Six tried to throw himself at Crexe, but could barely even raise himself off the floor. He couldn’t feel his legs, his ribs ached, and the pounding in his head seemed to be blinding him. A syrupy metallic stench filled his nostrils, mingling with the smoke.
“Pathetic,” Crexe said. “I had hopes for you—but now you’re nothing but a hindrance. A genetic experiment gone wrong, lying helpless in a puddle of its own fluids.” He sighed. “Such a terrible waste. You were, as you’ve probably guessed, somewhat expensive.”
Six tried to speak, but choked. He spat out a tooth.
“Why didn’t you join me, Six?” Crexe said. “You had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. It would have been a beneficial situation for both of us. You owed nobody anything. Why should you have qualms about such easy work? You’re not even human. You don’t have to be moral.”
“More human than you,” Six rasped.
Crexe laughed. “Indeed. You think you are, at any rate. You even seem to be under the impression that you have a soul.” Crexe leaned forward, looming over Six. “I was there. I watched Lerke design you, and I oversaw your growth from day one. If there was any humanity, any spirit incubating in that tube, I would have known about it and I would have flushed it out. You are artificial. You are a parody of a human being.”
Six winced as Crexe aimed the pistol at his chest. His finger tightened on the trigger.
“A soul is like a personality,” Six whispered hoarsely. “It’s something that a creature earns through its experiences. You aren’t born with it; it is life’s gradual gift to you. I think, therefore I am.”
He closed his eyes.
I did it, he thought.
I know who I am. At last.
As Methryn Crexe aimed the gun at Six’s head, his eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head. Crexe slumped backward and Kyntak lowered him to the ground.
THE NEXT GENERATION
“How do you do it, Six?” Kyntak laughed.
He wrapped one arm around Six’s back and helped him to his feet. Six tried to support his own weight, but his legs buckled underneath him.
“Whoa,” Kyntak said, catching Six neatly. “Relax, buddy. It’d be a shame for you to fight off all those psychopaths and then bleed to death. Let me get you out of here.”
“How’d you find me?” Six asked.
“I found the Lab’s central computer system, and used it to track you. You don’t need to be afraid of them anymore.”
Kyntak was blurry. Six closed his eyes. “I owe you one.”
“Nah, don’t mention it. You’d have done the same for me. And anyway, I got to knock my boss unconscious!”
“You were a double agent?”
“I told you that right from the beginning! I was working for the Lab so I could spy on them, getting information about the inner workings of ChaoSonic.”
Six smiled. “I knew we couldn’t trust you.”
“By the way, I was really touched by what you said over there. I never knew you had a spiritual side.”
Six coughed. “Neither did I.”
“You and I are very different people, Six, but our genes are the same. We may not have been born the same as most people, but if it’s the outside world that gives us souls, then we’re just as human as everyone else.”
Six smiled. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”
“Maybe not.” Kyntak chuckled.
“Did you hear what Crexe said?” Six rasped. “About the Seawall?”
“No,” Kyntak said, “but I can guess what it was. I learned the same thing from the mainframe. There are still nine billion people to save, though.”
They were almost at the door when Six choked. His eyes widened.
“Are you all right?” Kyntak asked, alarmed.
“Look!” Six whispered.
The smoke parted to reveal a shining pillar of glass. It was perfectly round and smooth, like a giant flashlight balanced on the flat end. Inside, a small bundle of flesh slowly drifted up and down in water. As they got closer, Six could make out tiny arms and legs, little hands and feet, and the smooth dome of the head.
“They made another one,” Kyntak breathed.
Six remembered Crexe talking about “the next batch.” He had wanted Six to tell the story of his upbringing, so that the next experimental soldier might have the same capacity to follow orders, fight blindly, and cheat death so effortlessly. But Six had never imagined that they would be growing the first infant already.
Probably a test subject, Six thought. Start with one, test it, then build the army.
“If anyone finds this—if they realize what this is…” Kyntak stammered.
“I know,” Six said. He thought of all the things that had happened to him since he was in this state. Escaping from the fire, finding King. Working at the Deck, meeting his friends. Finding Kyntak, learning about life. Always learning.
“Please,” Six said. “Take me closer.”
Kyntak silently helped him forward.
With his last ounce of strength, Six drove his fist through the glass. It shattered, and he staggered back.
The water drained out of the pillar, and the baby coughed, blinking its big eyes and flexing its tiny limbs. It moved to its hands and knees and stared up at Six.
“Take it with us,” Six whispered.
“Shh. Sleep.” Kyntak picked up the infant and held it to his chest, then slung Agent Six of Hearts over his shoulder. He carried them both out of the door in silence.
“Kyntak,” Six whispered.
“That’s my name. Yes?”
“Are you the other Joker?”
Kyntak smiled, but didn’t answer.
EPILOGUE
The man watched through ChaoSonic night-vision binoculars as the boy with the bleached-blond hair placed the other gently inside the car. Then he placed a small bundle on the sleeping boy’s lap. The baby looked up at him curiously with her large dark eyes.
The watcher smiled. Excellent. The children of Project Falcon were as predictable as ever.
The boy started up the car and pulled out onto the road.
The watcher pulled his beanie tighter over his bald head and stared at the car as it disappeared into the City’s haze of neon lights.
“There’ll be no mistakes next time,” Retuni Lerke whispered into the darkness. “You’re my baby girl, and you belong with me. One day, you’re going to be a great soldier.”
He vanished into the night.
Agent Six is on the run—with nowhere to turn.
His brother is being held hostage. An evil new figure is rising to power. And Six is suspected of being a double agent. Now Six doesn’t know who to trust. All he can do is run from his fellow agents an
d his own past—before he runs out of time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you first and foremost to my parents, Ian and Barbara, who always encouraged me to read and supported my dreams of becoming a writer, and to my brother Tom, who was always eager to see my work and has always stuck by me.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Kate Griffiths, who read many different versions of this book with incredible patience and enthusiasm. I must also thank Paul Kopetko, who pointed out many of the inaccuracies and impossibilities in this book—and who, like a true friend, didn’t mind when I kept them in anyway.
My sincerest thanks go out to the following people for reading early drafts: Billy and Tom Griffiths, Jonathon Hilhorst, Eugene Lawrenz, Christopher Macphillamy, Brendan Magee, Amanda and Michael Rawstron, Libby Robin, and Sue Willis. I couldn’t have done this without your criticism and encouragement. Thank you to everyone else who expressed an interest in my work—I hope it’s worth the wait!
Thank you to the hardworking team at Pan, who have been amazing from day one. I am particularly grateful to Claire Craig, who has enhanced and strengthened this book in ways I would never have thought of, as well as representing my interests throughout the process. Special thanks are also due to Cate Paterson, who first read my submission and gave it the thumbs-up.
Family, friends, colleagues, and readers. Thanks are due to all of you—I hope you enjoy this book.
About the Author
Jack Heath
was born in 1986. He started writing The Lab in high school and submitted it for publication before he graduated. He lives now in Canberra, Australia, plays the bass in several local bands, and spends his free time watching Milla Jovovich movies.
Copyright
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd., BT Tower, 1 Market Street, Sydney, Australia.
First published 2006 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd.
First Scholastic printing by Scholastic Press in 2008.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
E-ISBN 978-0-545-28162-1
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Heath. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Cover art by Kako
Cover design by Christopher Stengel