by Pam Uphoff
"Good triez. But you vill also ztart dumping zeez lezzer embryoz."
"At this point, our entire . . . production line . . . is only capable of reconditioning twenty incubators a day, at the most. We're training techs, and opening mothballed facilities . . . But at present, we cannot increase our rate of reconditioning by much. That's why we're stockpiling the artificial wombs as they are reconditioned. The surge, when the first of your embryos are born will be difficult . . . but we should have personnel and facilities ready to go before then, so I'm probably worrying needlessly. And . . . we will decant the . . . lesser embryos when we have to and no sooner."
His eyes narrowed. Anger, not thought.
"We will have three hundred ready to go, when the next embryos are ready to transfer, more than we can possibly, safely transfer in such a short time. We are confident that we can start and transfer thirty a day, with acceptable loss rates, next week."
"You should have ztarted more embryoz immediately."
"I chose to begin cautiously. I will not lose dozens of embryos due to haste."
"That iz not your choice. Dr. Haruki or myzelf now have authority over effrything here. Effrything."
Crap. Divert him.
Frost frowned. "If I understand the name origins correctly, you are from Russia. Why do you have the same accent as Von Cratz?"
"Mentalists are all Russian, or part Russian. My givtz come from my fatherz linez, Von Cratz only inherited through his mother. He waz not quite strong enough to be a hub. Zo he decided to be a soldier and gain that zort of power." Sokalov's nose rose. "He vill do."
Wait. Did this guy just imply that he's in charge here?
"I'm surprised that an officer needed more . . . augmentation than a regular soldier."
The mentalist shrugged. "An accident. Bravado and zhowing off, more like. He opted for the legz ofer being crippled all his live."
"Ah." Frost glanced back at the rows and working incubators. This is going to cause a new wave of resentment. "The techs tell me that the first two embryos will be moved to an artificial womb tomorrow. They are continuing to grow normally."
"Good." He looked over his shoulder. "There you are, Haruki. I hear you are being zoft vith zee lesser people."
Dr. Haruki shot an irritated glance at Frost. "They are very compliant. There is nothing there to break, except, perhaps, in this one. She's different."
Sokalov turned and eyed her. "Indeed? She is more . . . practical . . . than most. She at least realizes the peril she is in."
Frost straightened. "By the time we're adults we gain a better perspective on life and fit in. but . . . I had a rather rebellious childhood and . . . well, we aren't all naïve fools. Just most of us. I've done enough stupid things to not want to get hurt."
The mentalist started grinning. "I feelz you. You are lying by being general, by not zinking uf zee zings you haf done." He stepped closer. "Vee will have zee little talk zoon about zis. But I haf a malvunction in zome zoldiers and must examine zat virst."
Frost paused. Ask? Not ask? "What has happened? What sort of malfunction?"
"A valure of communicazion. At verz I vould haf rezeived a termination signal. But there is nozing at all."
"Oh. His radio broke? Or . . . what is the range. Maybe he . . . they? Got too far away?"
Sokalov leaned close. She could feel the pressure of his mind. "You ask too many queztions. Until I return . . . You. Vill. Do. Nothink."
Frost watched the mentalist walk away, Dr. Haruki scrambling after.
Frost started to follow, slowed, stopped. I just got ordered to do nothing? All right. Nothing it is.
And I hope there are lots and lots of broken soldiers. Because I don't want this little talk with that man.
***
Halberd looked both ways, but no one here behind the store had seen anything.
"Halberd Arrowdaut. Please explain what you have just done."
Except the Nexus, of course.
"I have scooped the cyborgs up into a bubble. It's, umm, multidimensional, and has a ten thousand to one time dilation. The cyborgs are just fine, and can stay there until we figure out where to put them."
"They are not dead?"
"Eww! No! Just . . . going really really slow. I'm going to bubble as many as possible. But I wasn't going to start quite so soon." Halberd started walking. "I'm going to need another bike. I hope I can afford one."
"Halberd Arrowdaut . . . I believe that 'bubbling' cyborgs is a brilliant civic contribution. You are now getting credit for ridding the city of a public nuisance."
"Oooo! If the rest of the cys don't get nasty about this, we could become rich bounty hunters." Halberd grinned. "But I wouldn't have bubbled these four if they hadn't started asking me what I was doing, and . . . poking at me. It had too much downward potential to go along with."
"Yes . . . There have been several things that . . . have shown me how 'downward' their behavior can be. Halberd Arrowdaut, turn right and go into the third house. Dimitri Sokalov is enroute and should not see you."
"Oh? Did one of the cyborgs radio him?"
"I do not understand. But Mirk Negue is of the opinion that what they call True People are slightly telepathic and aware of each other, able to mentally converse, at will."
"Oh. Hmm, that could be awkward. I wonder how many true people cyborgs there are, compared to the normal ones." Halberd turned up the walk and stepped into the house. Empty of furniture. She stepped to the window and watched an aircar stop at the mouth of the alley. The mentalist got out and looked down the alley. Then both ways of the street.
A quartet of cyborgs jogged up in a neat square and halted beside the mentalist.
Halberd softened her shields to incoming thoughts . . . they were too far away.
"I think we need to have a talk tonight. I'll bet Frost can do bubbles too. Napalm's a bit young."
"Mirk Negue is in a precarious position. His complete ignorance of your connection to the problem may save him."
"Oh. What about Frost?"
"She has recently come to the attention of Dimiti Sokalov."
"Oh. Well, maybe I'd better just keep my mouth shut." Halberd watched the mentalist walk down the alley . . . and wondered what sort of 'downward' behavior he would indulge in, if he kept losing cyborgs.
Chapter Twenty
Winter 1400 px/24-2-3517
St. Louis, Utopia
Mirk ignored the smug satisfaction on Von Cratz's face, the relaxed, confident aggression of his stance.
Better than edgy and irritated. I think.
"The new mess hall at your base is operational this morning, and ten barracks are completed, furnished and are being moved into. With the stepped up production we should have all the soldiers housed in less than two weeks." Mirk looked at his notes. "The first two Mentalist embryos have been successfully transferred to artificial wombs and appear to be developing normally."
Von Cratz sighed and leaned back. "This is boring. I thought I would be fighting a war."
Mirk bit his lip. "I . . . will look into something that might . . . be both entertaining and useful. If you will excuse me a moment?"
An irritated wave. "Go."
Mirk stepped out, and headed to his own office, three doors down.
"Mirk Negue, is boredom dangerous?"
"Yes, especially in someone who is heavily armed. Nexus, you are not going to like this suggestion, which is why I did not just blurt it out. Let's discuss it behind closed doors and quietly." He shut the door behind himself and circled to sit behind his desk.
"That is not reassuring."
I hope the walls are thick. "A big game hunt."
"Mirk Negue, I suspect that we are not speaking of a camera safari."
"No. We're not. And much though I hate the idea of senseless killing of animals, I do prefer it to senseless killing of humans." Mirk leaned back in his chair. "Do you know the approximate location of any elephants that are approaching the ends of their life spans?"
"Oh. That is a very horrible, but logical idea."
"Will you allow Von Cratz to kill some? What other extremely dangerous animals could we divert him with?"
"Bees and mosquitoes are statistically the most dangerous. I could . . . No?"
"No. The larger and most obviously threatening animals will be needed. Land animals. I don't think whales would be a good idea." Mirk looked at the hologlobe he kept above his desk. "Where is the largest elephant? Do you have a picture?"
The globe was replaced by an elephant herd. One towered above the rest, huge long tusks, ears flapping . . .
"A magnificent animal. How old is he?"
"He is approaching fifty, and beginning to show signs of age . . . I see your logic Mirk Negue. And . . . I approve this big game hunt."
"If you will program a long-range skimmer . . . We'll no doubt need several . . . with the locations of . . . let's say a dozen individuals from several species . . . All large threatening older individuals that have already contributed to their species gene pool. I'll go lie to Von Cratz and try to keep him entertained for a week or so. Killing as few animals as possible."
Von Cratz was glowering at his own hologlobe, looking dissatisfied. "Everything is too far away, and I know all too well the other cities would be just as boring as this one."
"I wondered, umm . . . Do you like to hunt?" Mirk tried to look appalled. "It's one of those dirty jobs we hate to do . . . we don't really regulate the wild animals, but sometimes . . . well, take this elephant. Nexus? The one you showed me? The largest in the world. Unfortunately it's started behaving a bit erratically, probably just the aches and pains of old age setting in, but it's gotten quite aggressive, and for the good of the local herds, it needs to be removed."
"Removed?"
"Well . . . killed. It's a dangerous job, getting close enough to humanely euthanize . . . "
Von Cratz roared with laughter. "You stupid little coward! Too afraid to stand up to such a dangerous animal. Come with me. I vill show you how a man deals vith a problem!"
That worked a little better than I'd expected . . . I hope I don't come to regret it.
***
The gun roared and Mirk staggered back.
Von Cratz roared with laughter. "Zhat vicious tree haz escaped from you!"
Mirk rotated his shoulder carefully. Nothing broken. I think. "Recoil. Right. Physics, equal and opposite forces."
Snort. "You think too much. Now try it again. Lean into the gun."
He leaned into the gun. It broke his shoulder. Or felt like it anyway. He staggered back and sat down in the dirt. The tree was still unscathed.
"Assimilation Leader Von Cratz? I believe I am unsuited to the role of big game hunter. Or anything else involving these noisy, smelly, dangerous contraptions."
Von Cratz took the gun, put the stock to his shoulder and looked down the barrel. It roared, Von Cratz barely moved. Splinters erupted from the tree trunk and it swayed . . . the angle of lean increased, and it fell.
Mirk groaned and lay flat on the ground. "I'm pathetic."
"Yes. Now get up. Let's find this elephant."
"If we can. They don't have implanted tracking chips."
Von Cratz snorted.
Mirk got into the lead aircar. "Nexus, can you take us to the elephant's last known location?"
The Nexus had, after much explanation, finally understood that this was not to be a quick efficient trip, but that the hunter had to endure some hardship and danger, else the satisfaction quotient would be too low.
And, of course, if Von Cratz actually gets squashed by an elephant I'll shed no tears. Probably because I'm too busy running from the elephant.
Half an hour of zipping along above the grasses and shrubbery, angling around the occasional tree, then they slowed.
"Two weeks ago Elephant 4729013 was here, moving southeast." The Nexus's voice was getting mechanical. It really didn't like this trip.
Von Cratz grinned. "Stop at the top of that hill. Map. Show me a hundred kilometer radius of this point."
Mirk followed von Kratz out onto the rocky hill top and took a long slow look around.
A herd of something in the mid distance. A couple of miles away.
"Wildebeest. Ugliest antelope in the world." Von Cratz turned back to the map. "The river there. I suspect the elephants visit it regularly. Let's scout it out. Oh, and stop near the wildebeests on the way."
Von Cratz stepped back into the lead aircar. Mirk joined him. Eyed the big cyborg as he racked his big gun and examined a more slender rifle. "This should do." The air car sighed to a stop a hundred yards from the wildebeests.
Mirk shook his head. "You're right. They are ugly. Very unbalanced looking . . . "
Von Cranz stood up in his seat and fired his rifle over Mirk's head.
Mirk startled, started to jump up and then wisely stayed low. Peered at the cloud of dust with the dark shapes of fast disappearing wildebeests.
"There we go. Dinner. Since you can't hunt, butcher it and cook dinner for us all." The cyborg grabbed Mirk with his mechanical arm and heaved him out of the aircar.
"This is not allowed!"
"Shut up Nexus. Do as you are told." Mirk kept his voice to a mutter and the computer shut up. Raised his voice and reached for a whine. "Cook? A dead animal?"
Von Cratz showed his teeth. "Do a good job, and I won't use you for bait."
"Umm . . . yes, sir." Mirk stumped over toward the heap of dead antelope. Behind him he heard Von Cratz's order and the faint hiss of the aircar receded. He pulled out his phone. "Nexus. Please, please, act like a machine and don't interfere with Von Cratz. Umm, is he going to find elephants?"
"A small family herd. Not his intended prey. Mirk Negue . . . are you going to eat that poor creature?"
"Yep. Can you send to me everything Von Cratz is saying, and not send anything from me to him?"
"Yes. I may need some help in forming appropriate responses."
Mirk eyed the fallen wildebeest. Nice shot. Right through the head. "Must weigh five hundred pounds. Bloody hell." He patted his pockets and came up with a small folding knife. "This . . . is going to be difficult to make look good."
He'd hunted and dressed game, but . . . the nearest tree was definitely too far to drag the beast, not to mention he lacked a rope to use to hang it. The only good thing was that it had fallen on sloping rocky ground.
He heaved it around, with a bit of magical assistance, until it was head down on the slight slope, then started cutting.
He haggled at the skin a bit with his knife, to make it look good then pulled power and sliced down to the major veins. He shoved a rock closer, balanced it on edge, heaved up on the hindquarters and kicked the rock underneath. He fetched rocks as big as he could carry and with a stick for leverage managed to get the carcass up on a pile that tilted it enough to drain a fair amount of blood.
Then he collected fallen branches from the nearest tree and dragged them back. Started a fire. Hope Von Cratz doesn't ask me how I did that!
More rock moving, building two long low walls with the fire in between. Back to the tree to saw off live branches, long and straight.
He had a two roasts, with sticks through them, cooking over the coals, and was haggling off the hide of the upper shoulder for another when Von Cratz returned.
He knew he was a pretty gory mess.
Von Cratz grinned. "Not too squeamish, then?"
"No. May I borrow a better knife?"
The cyborg laughed and a pair of the ordinary cyborgs—grinning—pulled a nice collection of knives out of the gear Von Cratz had packed. On inspection, there were even spices. Not that Mirk had much experience with cooking. Taking turns in our prison. Salt and pepper is about all I ever bothered with. He used them on the first roasts, turned them and got back to butchering.
The Nexus nagged him to rehydrate some vegetables for a balanced "barbarian feast."
Mirk complied, with the absolute minimum that would shut t
he bloody machine up.
Dinner was chewy but flavorful. A nice change from the fabricated or vat grown gooey stuff he'd nearly gotten used to. The veggies were an unfortunate reminder.
Not that he was going to admit to enjoying roast wildebeest. He swallowed a last chunk of meat. "It's . . . rather tough. I hope you aren't planning on eating that elephant. It's hard to imagine how hard to chew that thing would be."
Grin. "And you'll get the privilege of cooking it."
Mirk tried to look horrified and let it slide into resignation. "Maybe we won't be able to find it. Him. Whatever."
Or maybe I'll get tired of pretending to be the weakling civilized boy and find out if my shields are good enough to handle your lasers and bullets. At which point I will be delighted to show you how we deal with invaders back home.
Chapter Twenty-one
Winter 1400 px/27-2-3517
St. Louis, Utopia
Halberd eyed Napalm. "So . . . no more cyborgs in the tunnels?"
"Nope. I wonder why that one was there? Was he checking repairs? Or was he a good cyborg, trying to hide, to escape?" Napalm got all bright eyed. "We should ask him."
"No. I talked to Frost. She said some of the cyborgs are telepathic, but most of them communicate with radios. I'll bet that being underground, the cyborg couldn't radio out and report us."
Napalm rolled her eyes. "Yeah. But why was he there?"
Halberd thought that over. "Do you think, us being children and all, that we could . . .talk to the cyborgs when we see them? Say hi and smile?"
Napalm wrinkled her nose. "Make friends with them? I don't think that will work."
"Let's try anyway. I mean, they must have been regular people before they got turned into cyborgs." Halberd felt in her pocket for the chip of broken tile she'd pinned the bubble to and stuck it to the wall of her bedroom with the first one. "And maybe they'll know what Von Cratz thinks about the disappearing cyborgs."
***
Frost frowned at the cyborg. "But, Dr. Haruki! That mentalist person told me to do nothing until he told me to . . . or something like that?" She tried to sound like a complete idiot, and it apparently worked.