The Scions closest to her seemed like children in comparison to the woman.
They are children.
“Return to your dormitories,” Alice ordered. “Now!”
Two Crab boys, Terrel and Conrad, flinched. Not in fear, but in little daring feints toward the approaching monster. They fell into their fighting stances.
The man in the circle rushed them from behind. Terrel sensed it, dropped low and shot a foot into the man’s kneecap. He let out an ear-shattering curse.
Alice strode forward, but stopped short as the bell in the tower started to clang. The Scions didn’t turn their eyes away from their enemies, but Alice looked up.
Humphrey seized the moment and rushed forward, sprinting the best he could.
Where is Elias?
Surely the best fighter left on campus hadn’t abandoned the fight. But there was no time to lose. While the huge woman’s attention was diverted, he shouted to his peers, “Attack!”
They did, all sweeping toward the downed guard. Girls and boys alike, kicking and shouting.
Alice spun at Humphrey’s cry.
“Come on, Sang. Let’s take her.”
He changed the angle of his approach slightly. There was no way he could tackle her. She braced, bringing her hands up. Humphrey’s best fighting skill was muay thai, but that wasn’t saying much. What it meant was that he needed to rely on kicks, and, in truth, speed he didn’t possess.
The only thing to do was misdirect her. He didn’t slow, as if he actually intended to run past her.
“Sang, take the other flank.”
If the boy heard, he didn’t answer.
“Sang?”
No response. And no more time.
Humphrey slowed slightly at the last moment, planted a foot and launched a back kick at the woman’s knee. Sensei had taught him to first disable, then destroy.
The kick struck her thigh, the force of it shuddering back into Humphrey’s hips and making him fall onto his hands and knees. She seemed to be made of iron. He scrabbled away, fearing she would wrap him up in her arms and squeeze the life out of him.
He got to his feet and spun.
Sang was nowhere to be seen.
Alice lunged for him.
He ducked low, tried to roll past her. She dropped, crushing his torso under a knee. The breath burst out of his lungs. Only reflex saved him from a boulder-sized fist as he twisted and took the punch in his shoulder.
His foot hooked on something. Whatever it was, it had to belong to Alice, which made it a target. He yanked, an explosion of all his strength. The object—her other foot, he thought—pulled away, and her weight lifted from him. Without breath, his movements were even slower, weaker than before. The pain in his side burned, his lungs convulsed for air, the earlier blow he’d taken to his head knifed into his brain.
Suddenly he was off the grass, dragged up by his shirt. The light from the dojo blazed on Alice’s face, which was contorted into a mask of hatred. She said nothing, but with a snap of one shoulder, brought her fist into Humphrey’s gut. He dropped, still struggling for breath. Her shadow fell over him, and the cries and the fights around him faded to numbness, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton.
“You have no Progenitor,” she said, not even breathing hard. She bent and pulled something from a sheath strapped to the side of her leg. A long knife glistened in her hand, the bottom third of its edge gleaming with serrations. “Therefore you have no purpose.”
She smiled and thrust the blade at Humphrey’s gut.
He winced, but felt no burst of pain.
A vision appeared next to Alice’s face, a moment-before-death illusion. Sensei’s grim visage, hovered there. His lips spread wide in a silent scream, as if he were lifting a thousand pound weight.
Humphrey glanced at his wound.
There wasn’t one. The blade had frozen just above his navel. Sensei had caught Alice’s wrist in his iron grip, forbidding her blade its final inches of glory. Sensei shifted his weight and Alice fell away, shrieking with fury.
The hideous knife flew end-over-end through the air before stabbing deep into the turf. A shadow raced to it and plucked it free. Horace held it aloft, eyes shining with keener sharpness than the blade itself.
Humphrey managed to draw a breath, forced himself to look up. All around the battle raged. And the bell rang on and on.
41
Maybe at a Discount
The sterile whiteness of the transfer room hurt Jacey’s eyes. Yet for all of the light, she couldn’t see much. Her cot had not yet been pushed under the transfer wheel, but the straps holding her head in place gave her a very limited field of view.
Muffled shouts carried from the corridor. It sounded like a girl. Jacey feared they’d caught Summer after all.
Dr. Carlhagen came back in, chuckling under his breath.
“Oh, Christof,” said Senator Bentilius, voice rising in a croak. “You are a delicious looking young man. Let’s get this over with.”
“Soon, my love, soon. Just have patience. We’re almost ready to begin.”
The senator made a feline purring sound and laughed. “Now that I’ve seen you, I’m quite vexed with that impostor. I want him punished for tricking me.”
Dr. Carlhagen matched her hideous laugh. “That boy has no Progenitor waiting for him now. We can dispatch him in any way you want. That’ll be my gift to you.”
“I’m not bloodthirsty, Christof. And whatever you do, I don’t want to see it. Besides, such a death is a waste of a valuable resource. I’m sure we can sell him to someone, maybe at a discount.”
Dr. Carlhagen laughed again. “Of course, my dear. Excellent idea.”
Jacey struggled against the straps. She thought if she could get free it would be a tough decision whether to flee or beat Dr. Carlhagen over the head with her fists.
“Greta,” Dr. Carlhagen barked, “report.”
“Three more minutes for initial scan. Then we can proceed.”
Jacey thrashed under the restraints and cried out for help.
Miss Dayspring shambled into view. “Maybe we should give her a sedative, the poor dear.”
Dr. Carlhagen strode close to Jacey’s gurney. He wasn’t smiling when he bent over her. “No,” he said. “I want her to feel every moment of it, down to the last instant of consciousness.”
42
The Most Selfish Thing I Can Do
The only sound in the holding room was Belle’s sobbing. She lay face down on the gurney, the same one Dr. Carlhagen had been strapped to for several days. Her plan had been desperate, but once locked in this room, she had no chance of getting to the transfer room. She berated herself, beating her fists on the thin mattress. The whole scheme had hatched in her mind in one second, causing her to abandon Sensei’s plan.
And why? Because once again, she couldn’t stand the thought of Jacey being with Vaughan, even as an AI simulation.
She forced herself to sit up and wiped her eyes with her palms. “Why Jacey? Why her?”
A tinny voice came from Summer’s reader, which was lying on the floor. “Since when do you care about Jacey?”
It was Vaughan’s voice.
“I don’t care about Jacey.” Belle dropped from the gurney and scooped up the reader so she could see Vaughan’s face. “I could save her if I could just get in there. She’s just five meters away if I could break through this wall.”
A spark of hope came to her then. “Vaughan, can you control this door? Can you unlock it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Vaughan said. “The locks are manual latches. But maybe I can delay things in the transfer room. Let me take a look and see what I can do.”
“What’s the difference?” Belle said, dropping to her knees. “If I can’t get out, delaying it won’t help.”
“Oh, you can get out.”
“How?”
“Look up.”
She did, straight at white ceiling tile. “Is this some sort of a spiritual lesson or
something?”
“No, that’s a drop ceiling. There may be locks on the outside of the doors, but these rooms weren’t designed as prison cells.”
“I don’t know what a drop ceiling is.”
Vaughan didn’t respond.
Belle snatched up the reader. “Vaughan?”
No response.
Belle peered through the door’s window. There was no one in the hall. She climbed onto the gurney, stood, and pressed her fingertips against the tile.
It gave!
She pushed harder. An entire section lifted easily overhead. She peered into the darkness, had to lift her reader to shine its light into the empty space beyond. Wires hung from metal beams supporting a thin framework of aluminum that held the tiles in place.
She tucked the reader into the front of her uniform pants, jumped, and grabbed one of the struts to pull herself through the hole. The ceiling was too flimsy to support her, but she squeezed above a thick metal beam. In a moment, she had replaced the ceiling tile. She shined the reader light through the attic space. It was dark and hot. Angled support struts marched into the darkness to her left and right.
Just below her ran a course of concrete block that demarcated one wall of her holding room. Beyond that would be the ceiling above the transfer room. Fortunately whoever had built the wall hadn’t taken it all the way to the roof.
She squeezed through support struts barely wide enough for her shoulders until she passed over the wall. Her light showed something ahead, a wider space. She reached it and discovered a metal grating running between two beams. The catwalk supported a bundle of thick cables. Belle pressed on it. It seemed sturdy enough. She put more weight on it.
It held.
She turned off the reader and reached over one of the beams to lift the corner of a ceiling tile. Light blazed through the crack. She could just see a bit of the floor and part of a holodesk.
It would be a long fall.
A figure moved into view. Vaughan!
No. That’s Dr. Carlhagen.
She was tempted to drop right onto his head. But that would just as likely get her leg broken as injure him.
The room went dark.
A sharp cry, a woman’s, came from below. “What’s happening?”
Dr. Carlhagen’s vile curses followed.
“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the dark.” Definitely not Jacey’s voice. Too panicky.
“Silence, Miss Dayspring! It’s just the damn power,” Dr. Carlhagen said. “Greta? Greta? Dammit, the holodesk isn’t even powered. I’ll have to go find the breaker box. I think it’s back by the freezer room.”
Belle crawled forward. Vaughan had bought her time.
What she needed was a way to climb down. A possible solution occurred to her, and she moved along the catwalk as fast as she could while keeping quiet.
The catwalk ran out at a concrete block wall. Belle looked to either side of the catwalk and immediately spotted what she was looking for. A rectangular course of concrete blocks about two meters wide. It outlined a closet.
Inside that outline was a tile right next to the catwalk. It looked slightly different than the rest. She ran her fingers across it. It was smooth like wall material, but there were little indentations around its frame. It looked like it was meant to be lifted, so she pulled up on one side and peered down.
The light from her reader showed her the inside of the closet. It was filled with shelving. Craning her neck, she could even see the door that led into the transfer room. It was closed.
Perfect.
She pulled the panel out and set it quietly on the catwalk. Clamping the reader in her teeth, she climbed down, putting her feet on the shelving, taking great care not to disturb the items they held. She glanced down. Two more shelves and she would reach the floor.
Her hand slipped, and in her attempt to reclaim her grasp, she knocked a stainless steel bowl off of the shelf. It clanged on the floor and wobbled endlessly before coming to rest.
“Who’s there?” It was the same panicky voice she had heard before.
Belle held her breath.
“For Pete’s sake, Miss Dayspring,” said a raspier voice. “If you’re scared of the dark, just go outside until Christof sorts it out.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay, Madam?” said the tremulous voice.
“What could happen to me here?”
Belle waited, holding her breath. She heard soft steps, the twist of a door latch, and then a door close.
She cut the light from the reader and opened the closet door. She stepped inside the transfer room. It was completely dark. She eased the door closed, then turned on the reader light, shielding most of it with her body. Enough reflected off a near wall to show her a cot and feet jutting out. She knew they were Jacey’s because they wore Scion uniform shoes.
She crept forward. Jacey’s eyes were open. They were wide. Her whole body trembled. Belle allowed a little more light to shine on her own face.
Jacey’s eyes widened more, and she gasped. Belle felt along the cot. Her hand came to the great wheel she had seen once before. Beyond that lay the senator. There was no time.
Heart racing, she felt along Jacey’s body, finding each strap and loosening it, removing it. She bent low and whispered in Jacey’s ear. “Get up.”
Jacey did. The cot groaned.
“Is someone there?” asked Senator Bentilius. “Miss Dayspring? Is that a light?”
“Only me,” Jacey said, her voice very loud in the silence. “The person you’re going to kill so you can be young again. I think an emergency light came on.”
“Foolish girl,” said the senator. “Do you think you can shame me? I have developed a hard interior to do what must be done. The fact is the world needs me. I’ve done more good for the impoverished and the oppressed than anyone alive. I deserve this.”
Belle helped Jacey stand. She was shaky.
“That’s small comfort from where I’m standing,” Jacey said to the senator.
Belle motioned to the closet and then pointed up. She put her mouth to Jacey’s ear. “You can get out through one of the holding rooms. Skip the first one, the door’s locked.”
Jacey hugged Belle, whispering in her ear, “Thank you. Thank you.”
She started for the closet, taking hold of Belle’s hand to drag her after. Belle stood firm. Jacey turned with a questioning look. Belle yanked her hand free and lowered herself onto the cot, though her heart pounded and her skin chilled with fear.
Jacey’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then her mouth fell open, and her lips mouthed, “No, no,” as she shook her head.
Belle looked at the ceiling.
Jacey came near. “You can’t do this. You must not do this.”
The senator must have heard. “I can, I must, and I will.”
Belle grabbed one of the straps and flapped it, indicating Jacey should secure it.
“Why?” Jacey asked.
The senator huffed. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
Jacey’s cheek pressed against Belle’s, her breath hot in Belle’s ear. “Why?”
Belle whispered back, “If the senator dies, then this place will be overrun with armed men. There will be no chance for any of you.”
“But there has to be another way. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself.”
“This is the most selfish thing I can do.”
Jacey didn’t move. “I don’t get it.”
“Vaughan,” Belle said. “It’s always been about Vaughan. He lives inside whatever this is. He’s waiting there, ready to save a copy of you. Instead, he’ll take a copy of me. And I’ll be free of all this. I’ll be with him.”
“But, Belle!”
“Face it, Jacey, the others love you. They need you. They don’t love or need me.”
Dampness fell across Belle’s cheek, but it wasn’t from her tears. It was from Jacey’s. She rubbed Belle’s forehead, kissed her cheek. “But I do love you.”
�
��It’s not the circuit breakers.” Dr. Carlhagen’s voice startled Belle and Jacey so much that they both jolted. “Who the hell designed this electrical system?”
“The straps,” Belle said. Jacey fumbled with them, pulling them into place. A racket came from across the room as Dr. Carlhagen searched for something.
“Where did I leave that thing?” he groused.
Belle’s cot was suddenly moving, and she realized that Jacey was pushing her into the wheel so that Belle’s face would be obscured in shadow if the lights came on. Belle felt a grudging admiration for that bit of quick thinking. She felt a final pat on her shin, and Jacey’s presence was gone.
She heard the slight click as the closet door closed.
Belle found it impossible to swallow; her mouth had gone utterly dry. The faint smell of bleach burned at her nose and seemed to find a path all the way to her brain. Her thoughts accelerated, as if her mind needed to think a lifetime of thoughts during her remaining moments.
She remembered clutching a stuffed animal in one hand as she approached the burning barrel, Jacey sniffling and walking next to her. Humphrey had muttered a curse under his breath. Vaughan had stared straight ahead, face already masculine and beautiful at nine years old.
“Ah. The transfer subsystem is rebooting.” Dr. Carlhagen’s steps clicked on the floor as he came close. “Damn these lights. Where is Miss Dayspring?”
“She was afraid and went out,” said Senator Bentilius.
“Good. She’s useless.”
The lights came on, blinding Belle with their brightness.
A memory flashed. Trudging down the path from the hacienda, carrying a spade and shears following a long day of planting new cuttings of bougainvillea. Jacey laughing and smiling with Vaughan. Humphrey following after, face dark with obvious envy.
“Ah ha!” said Dr. Carlhagen. “Shall we proceed?”
“Please,” said Senator Bentilius. “I’m so tired.”
Footsteps came closer. Belle’s heart pounded so hard she felt certain Dr. Carlhagen would hear. She wore the same uniform as Jacey, but if Dr. Carlhagen peeked inside the wheel, he’d see she wasn’t Jacey.
Child of Lies Page 25