Wild Thing

by L. J. Kendall

  Non-Robo swelled more-

  She jumped away, crying.

  She had to. She jumped away, even while part of her told her not to be such a coward, to go back. But her legs simply refused to obey her.

  And non-Robo met Her, enveloped Her, and with a silent explosion, the two shrank, or were somehow pulled inside Godsson and sucked away.

  Then the door was opening, her uncle and Commander Stone were hauling her out of the room, and the door slammed shut behind her.

  She twisted around in their grips.

  Inside, Godsson tottered over to lean up against the window, no longer surrounded by glowing domes or twined about with invisible tendrils.

  'It's gone, Sara. It's finally gone!'

  He stared at her. But there was something desperate in his eyes. Like he was telling her something else. Something about what their victory meant.

  She sagged, tried to stand, failed, held up solely by the Commander's strong arms. She looked up into the woman's face. Who, she knew, could communicate with her people above. She put one hand on the Commander's arm. Gripped.

  'Is Faith-?'

  And then collapsed.

  Chapter 53

  For some time, she sat half-dazed at a table by the doorway of the cafeteria, vaguely aware of slightly-injured FBI agents and soldiers sitting around in various stages of shock or excitement, their clothing torn, gun-shot, and blood-stained. She gathered that the dead and injured had been carried into the gym, and Keepie was there now, trying to heal them all.

  The word “Faith” brought her up out of… sleep…? and she listened more closely.

  'Damn, Coop, I tell you I've never seen anything like it. She's like, twelve years old, I'd say, a model three, which is, what, from ten years ago, but I've never seen any cyber mutt think like that! She must've taken down five guys on her own, and none of them could get weapon-lock her! Who trained her?'

  Faith was all right. She smiled, and let exhaustion reclaim her.

  When next she struggled awake, it was because she'd grown too hot – and found someone had covered her with a blanket. Weird. Why would anyone do that, in mid-summer? A distant, heavy mechanical tread was drawing nearer. Tossing aside the blanket, she stretched, enjoying the arching of her back and the play of muscle and tendons, all the way to her fingertips, as she spread her arms wide, and back, and then stood up. She smelled food.

  The men and women in the cafeteria fell silent, both those with the FBI armbands and name badges, and the soldiers in their khaki and camouflage. They were all looking at her.

  The food smells strengthened, and the heavy steps came right up into the doorway, and she realized that they weren't looking at her, of course, they'd just been smelling the food. A heavily-cybered old soldier in a full exoskeleton stomped in, carrying a whole bunch of big white plastifoam boxes with delicious aromas flooding from them.

  The talking started up again and everyone leaped into action, off-loading cartons from the old soldier and passing the food around, steam visibly rising from piping-hot serving containers.

  It was so weird seeing the eating area full, with people at every table and more chairs dragged in. The food smelled delicious, too, like nothing she'd scented before. Her stomach rumbled, and she really wanted to stay, but finding Faith was more important. And Keepie, too. And Mr Shanahan.

  She wriggled her bare feet on the floor, enjoying the cold of the tiles. Unnoticed, then, she headed out to find them.

  It was fully night now, but Faith was waiting at the edge of the lawn. She sprang to her feet the moment Leeth emerged, racing across the stretch of gravel. Leeth plunged down the front steps, leaping to grab Faith in mid-air as they threw themselves toward one another.

  Spinning, they tumbled together down onto and over the gravel, laughing and yipping, nuzzling and hugging. 'Ouch, wait! You've got thick fur, but I don't!' She felt cuts and grazes on her elbows and back as she disentangled herself from her companion. Maybe that hadn't been the best place for a reunion?

  Torchlight flashed past, then locked onto them both, making her wince and blink as pounding boot-steps skidded to a halt beside her.

  'Stand down, K9, stand down! Are you all right, miss?'

  She looked up from the offered hand to an earnest and youthful face. 'Sure. Just a few scratches. I'll get my uncle to heal them, later.' The man had angled his light away, and it took her a moment of blinking before she could see properly again. She looked at her lovely black cat suit and winced at the rips and tears. He wouldn't be able to heal those. Rats.

  'Never mind, Faith.' She nuzzled her again, taking several excited licks to the side of her face, laughing. 'I heard you did real well: neutralized five soldiers all by yourself! Good girl!'

  'Uh, miss, are you supposed to… are you Sara? Wow, you're…'

  She reluctantly let go of Faith and stood up, reaching out to shake his hand like you were supposed to. 'Sara,' she snorted, before remembering. 'Oh. Um, I mean, I guess so. I mean, sure, yeah, of course I'm “Sara.” Pleased to meet you, um, corporal…?'

  For some reason he blushed. 'Uh, just Private, ma'am. Private Washington, ma'am. Jomo Washington.'

  He had nice brown eyes, and a kind smile, though his eyes looked a little twitchy, like he'd been through a tough time. His khaki shirt was sopping wet – like he'd washed it! After a battle? He must be- Then she noticed the neat holes punched through that shirt to the dark skin beneath. Oh.

  She stepped closer, smiling to show she was friendly.

  Reaching out a finger, she touched the smooth bare flesh highlighted by the white of the undershirt visible through the hole. But at her touch, he flinched back.

  What was the matter with him? 'Gosh. Did, uh, did doctor Harmon heal you up from being dead? Do you know where he is?'

  Jomo moved, splashing his light up…. She grabbed his wrist, stopping him almost before he'd started; before he could blind her again. For some reason he cried out and tried to jump back. She tugged him forward to stop him: she didn't want him shining his stupid torch in her eyes! But in the dark, she saw his eyes go wide. Somehow she'd scared him. A moment later, she even had to grab his other hand when it shot down toward his sidearm. She immobilized that, too.

  That seemed to make him really scared: if Faith hadn't growled a deep warning from right behind him then, she wasn't sure what might have happened. He was moaning – 'no, no' – as she gripped him, and she could feel him trembling.

  What was wrong with him? He seemed terrified.

  Oh.

  He'd been attacked a little while ago by Her, maybe been shot by one of his own friends who'd gone crazy. And he couldn't see in the dark like she could. Probably he'd just wanted some light so he could see her face. And now some tricksy female thing had grabbed him in the dark.

  How to reassure him?

  'That was mean of them, making you go out alone in the dark,' she told him. 'But it's okay, you're not alone now.' She did the only other thing she could think of, then, and moved forwards, drawing his arms around her before releasing him and hugging him.

  He actually started trembling.

  'I'm sorry, Jomo. I thought you were going to shine your flashlight in my face. I didn't mean to scare you.'

  For some reason, her words seemed to make him tremble even more, and she felt his hands start pushing at her, desperately trying to get away.

  She felt helpless. What did you do when even a hug didn't work?

  At that moment, she heard the front doors of the Institute swing open behind her, and footsteps. A broad torch beam swung over and spotlit the two of them. She let him go and Jomo jumped back and out of her arms.

  A second passed before her uncle's voice rang out. 'What are you doing, Sara?'

  He sounded strangely unhappy. 'Uh, Jomo, he was, I…'

  She didn't want to say she'd scared him, she knew that'd be awfully embarrassing. 'I was just asking Private Jomo where you were, Uncle.'

  She heard his steps approaching, the torc
hlight wobbling, and she turned around, looking down so she could shield her eyes.

  'He was whispering it in your ear, I suppose. I see you've recently torn your clothes, too. All part of finding me, no doubt?'

  'Faith and I kind of… rolled around on the gravel.'

  'Of course. Of course you would.'

  He was right next to them, now, and he looked Jomo straight in the eye. 'I think you've helped my ward “find me,” Private.' He paused, and drew in his breath sharply. 'My healing worked splendidly, I see. Even feeling frisky, I take it? But perhaps you should be continuing your patrol, if that is what you are supposed to be doing?'

  'Sir, yes, sir!' the man said, snapping erect and saluting. Then practically fled into the darkness.

  'Oh, Keepie, don't be so horrid. I grabbed him, in the dark, and he got scared. So I hugged him to try to calm him down, but that only seemed to scare him even more. I think he thought I was Her.'

  She looked up into her uncle's eyes, his face all scowly and angry, but gradually his expression softened, and he shook his head. 'Were it anyone other than you, little one, I'd think you were lying. Really, “Pouncing” on soldiers in the dark after they've just experienced a very frightening and disturbing attack? That wasn't the wisest course of action, now, was it?'

  She wanted to explain it hadn't been like that, but he seemed to have calmed down, and that was the main thing, after all. She took his hand, and examined him more closely. He looked exhausted. Faith looked at her questioningly, but she gave the hand signal that meant she was okay, and Faith trotted off into the darkness.

  She put one arm around her uncle as they reached the front steps, leaning into him, and he took the hint and let her help him climb the steps, his feet plonking down on the ground real heavily.

  'How many soldiers did you heal up from being dead tonight, Keepie? It looked like Jomo had been shot through the heart and lungs.'

  'He had. But he was not augmented; and he was one of the early cases, so his healing went quite smoothly. The same wasn't true for all the others. Six, I could save. Three I couldn't. Fourteen others I was able to mend from relatively simple gunshot wounds, and two from being run over by a truck.'

  'Could you mend my scratches from the gravel, Keepie? Or do you need to go to bed?'

  Her uncle looked at her a little strangely as they went deeper into the building.

  'Perhaps after the debriefing. Come.'

  The debriefing wasn't as exciting as she'd hoped. The shamans kept looking at her the whole time, their eyes often doing the Imaginal-looky thing. It kind of creeped her out after a while. They'd whisper amongst themselves – which would have been great, because she could hear them quite clearly – except she couldn't understand the language they spoke in.

  It made her want to shake them. But the moment she thought that, it seemed to set the three off on a fresh new round of urgent whispering.

  Commander Stone was the opposite, and even made sure to sit next to her. Several times she smiled warmly, and spoke up for her more than once.

  Keepie was furious with Professor Sanders, she could tell, just because the Professor had let her go in to help Godsson.

  No one would explain about the cyanide, though, when she asked. They just pretended not to even know what she was talking about.

  But after that, it got real boring. Several times she'd even nodded off. But then an unfamiliar voice was saying something about a Dragon, and pennies finally dropping, and long games. She missed most of it, though. She was sitting where she could see Mr Smith's face, and only woke up properly when it gradually dawned on her that he looked like someone had poked a titanium rod up his spine and shown him pictures of his father turning into a werewolf, or something.

  The strange voice was a man's, but artificial. Even disguised, though, it carried an air of utter confidence. It was coming from the speaker in Professor Sanders's desk.

  'At least we know now why he didn't want Godsson in his own country. Dr Harmon: three things. First, if you recall anything more about what the Dragon said regarding Feyborn, respond to the secure message I have sent you. Your information is likely to have strategic value for our nation.

  'Second, if these incidents indicate the existence of a new kind of incorporeal entity, that too has strategic national value. Do not publish any research on this topic for now, however. You may discuss it amongst the personnel you deem fit at the Institute, naturally. You may also send reports on the topic to me via the same secure communication channel. Do not interpret that as a request for you to begin experimentation in the area. I doubt that any of us understands the risks involved.'

  'And the third thing?' her uncle asked. Looking a little off-balance, she thought.

  'A suggestion regarding your ward. Now that she is awake.'

  Leeth tensed. How did he even know I'd been asleep? Was he watching? She looked around for a camera. The trouble was, they could be tiny.

  'Make sure she understands that the Dragon is the head of state of a foreign superpower in competition with our own nation.'

  'Why do you care what I think about Lord Lao Pi Shen? Who are you, anyway? And why are you using a fake voice?'

  Everyone went still: all looking at her now. Like she'd just said something stupid, or shocking. Except Keepie: he just looked a bit lost.

  'Because you have befriended Godsson, Sara,' the voice answered her, sharply. 'And while none of us know why the Dragon chose to dump him in our country, it is certain it was to hurt us rather than help us.'

  'Godsson wouldn't hurt us! He's fighting Her for us!'

  'I am in fact more concerned by the Dragon than by Godsson.'

  She wanted to ask more questions, but caught Commander Stone's eye: who shook her head, telling her to stop arguing.

  'I'd like to keep the combined force on site for a day, then re-evaluate the situation,' the Commander said.

  'Very good. I leave that in your hands, Commander.'

  And then the unknown person got them all to agree to cover up the real cause. For the three foreign shamans, Leeth noticed he mostly did it by asking questions; for the other people there, including Mr Smith, he simply ordered them.

  They had to cover it all up because apparently everyone in the whole world would get real scared. Other countries would say Godsson either had to be killed, or moved to some place where he could be watched by the international community. And while no one seemed real happy about having poor Godsson here, they all agreed that'd be a bigger mistake.

  After he'd arranged that, the mysterious person handed the meeting over to the others, and “signed off.”

  Somehow, the debriefing was about to finish without anyone answering the most important question!

  'So can Godsson be released now that we killed the thing that's been attacking him?'

  This time everyone stared at her like she'd just grown a second head or something! Even Commander Stone kind of leaned away from her.

  Didn't anyone understand?

  But every single person in the room – even Uncle, this time – was watching her like she might be dangerous; like maybe they should be locking her up alongside Godsson! It made her want to scream at them, but she knew that'd only make it much worse. So all she could do in the end was shut her mouth and kind of smile and wince; like “Oh, yeah, of course, sorry, that'd be a dumb idea, wouldn't it? Ha ha. Whatever was I thinking?” Dumb Grups.

  Then they all started talking at once, about the “possibility of infection,” and “re-hosting,” while the shamans all looked and looked at her, their eyes all funny. But in the end the oldest of the three shaman women said it seemed okay. Whatever it was. But all three kept Looking at her.

  Soon after that, the meeting ended, to everyone's relief, and they all dispersed to their quarters.

  And Keepie did heal her cuts and grazes from her tumble with Faith, before staggering back to his own room.

  Chapter 54

  She wasn't sure about the soldiers. The agents had
been nicer: treated her more seriously.

  It'd felt real good when Commander Stone had shaken her hand, in both of hers, and actually thanked her. 'Give me a call when you're a bit older, if you think you might like a career in the FBI. You've got potential, kiddo.'

  Leeth had blushed down to the tips of her toes. Though she'd noticed her uncle hadn't looked too pleased.

  But the soldiers had been strange. Some of them looked kind of sideways at her; some of them looked nervous, as if maybe Jomo had said something weird; and others kind of joked about her when they thought she couldn't hear them, about how they'd like to “tap that ass,” as if she was just some kind of toy.

  She memorized those ones, and began planning a Hunt…. But they left the next day, and things went back to normal.

  Except they wouldn't let her go and talk to Godsson anymore. She tried all her sneaking techniques, but none had worked, and Mr Shanahan and Keepie got real cross with her for trying.

  But she'd learned her lesson during the debriefing. She knew they'd killed Her, and so they could let Godsson go, now.

  She'd even worked out that that was what that last look he'd given her had meant.

  She just had to work out how to rescue him.

  She also wondered about what would happen after she rescued Godsson: would Uncle want to join their team? That'd make it just perfect: then it'd be her, and Godsson, and Faith, and Keepie. But the way he'd looked at her in the debriefing when she'd suggested letting Godsson free, she was pretty sure he wouldn't want to.

  Right now, inside Professor Sanders's office, the Director and her uncle were arguing again. She sat outside, slumped down against the door, pretending to be annoyed and bored and waiting for her uncle, in case the new security cameras were watching.

  With the back of her head pressed against the door, though, it was super easy to hear everything.

  Which was how she learned that everyone was still scared by Melisande d'Artelle, even though she was dead. She also learned that the Dragon Lord Lao Pi Shen had personally brought Godsson here, years and years ago. And he'd warned them then about a “fractally replicating pattern” of her death.