by Laer Carroll
It then told her that she became weightless, just as she did when the bubble was engaged. She could become invisible if she wanted or not. The shield protected her as it had always done.
How flexible is this protection?
She could float on the surface of the sun or walk on planets as close to absolute zero as natural laws permitted. No amount of pressure except that exerted by black holes could harm her. She was protected from radiation which would harm her. The membrane which allowed air into the bubble would reject poisons.
That’s enough.
Silence in her head.
The shapechanger walked to the chair in which she’d been sitting and sat. Her knees had become weak.
Jee-sus Christ! She was fucking invincible. Just like Ultra Man of the comics. But for real.
This was fucking scary. She’d heard the old saw “Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” If she wasn’t very careful she’d become as horrible as any demon out of myth.
Her breath was coming faster. She was sweating.
She was frightened.
It could come over her so gradually she never noticed until it became too late.
She damped her fear. Maelgyreyt had been immensely powerful. For centuries or millennia. She had not become a demon.
Well, except to the Mongols. But then Bethany remembered that that had been deliberate. She’d butchered so frightfully to minimize how many of the invaders she’d have to kill.
And even that had sometimes not been enough. Some people did not feel fear. Or offset it with anger. Or took it as a challenge.
Bethany took a deep breath and let it out. At this moment her brother was in bad shape. While she puzzled about this latest development he might be dying.
Robot. Conform the bubble as we discussed before, to a millimeter outside my skin and clothing.
I am including rings and jewelry and other parts of your costume.
God, she was so glad this robot was smart. Otherwise her shoes and jewelry would be outside the shield and visible. And maybe fall off when she moved.
Bethany floated a millimeter above the floor. Her body took up the relaxed jumping-off-a-diving-board posture she was so used to. Then at a thought she floated toward the double-doors, her shoes a millimeter above the floor. She put a hand up and it contacted the doors. There was no sensation of touch as she pushed them open.
Inside she floated up one aisle and down another, peering around to those parts of the room not covered by the privacy curtains around the patients.
Once someone came walking toward her down an aisle. She lofted herself upward and stretch out as if lying on a bed high in the air. She stayed that way for the rest of her search. She should have thought of this before. She could see further up here.
She found Kendall. The drapes had been closed around him on three sides to make dim the bright lights which shone down from the drop-ceiling.
That was good. If she had drawn the curtains the nurses would see them move. And the few nurses she could see were not drowsy at all.
Bethany touched a hand and was almost overwhelmed by the data which flowed into her. Kendall was in a bad way.
She calmed herself and set about fixing problems or giving his body commands to better fix them. She’d learned that it was best not to meddle too much in someone’s body when she was helping them .
Once a male nurse neared the little temporary room. Beth sent herself up to “lie down” in the air above the room till he quit fussing. The instruments Kendall was hooked up to had been reporting his improvement.
After a thorough examination of the instruments and Ken’s condition he made a quiet but clear verbal report into a microphone, then typed a similar report into the small computer that was part of the diagnostic equipment. Beth understand one word in three, but apparently such improvement was rare but not surprising.
It took almost two hours in all to fix Ken’s body as much as she dared. This moved him from the Critical list to the Serious then to the Fair list. Each movement was done by one then two nurses who came to observe Kendall.
Finally the shapechanger stood looking at Ken, holding one hand.
He squeezed it lightly, then relaxed, smiling slightly. For a moment he had risen to a dream state, recognized a loving human touch, and fallen back to sleep.
Footsteps approached. Beth assumed her shield, flew upward, and slithered in the air down the aisles to exit the Intensive Care room.
·
Bethany immediately sent a text to Miguel and to Ken’s other two co-workers from 500 feet in the air outside the hospital.
K NOW FAIR CNDTN - MV TO PRVT RM SOON. K GD - SLEEP NOW
She immediately got a text back from Miguel.
SURE?
He was awake. She phoned him.
“Hola. ”
“Yes, I’m sure. You know doctor’s families. We get news very quick.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You get some sleep too.”
“Where are you?”
There was an tiny pause ordinary humans might not notice.
“I’m home. Going to get some sleep now.”
He was lying.
“OK. Buenas Noches .”
“Good night. And thanks.”
The shapechanger pulled her slate from its case at her waist. It was more powerful than the phone.
Miguel’s phone locater was off. This was illegal but not surprising.
C&R members could still locate each other. They had to be able to do that in case of emergency. She was still part of the company, so she activated the Locate function.
The Map app on her slate woke and showed her where he was. A zoom-out command showed her the general area. Two zoom-ins showed he was in a motel in Barrio South. This was the worst part of the Barrio, generally a very middle-class and non-violent place.
A sonic boom rattled windows as Bethany went up at an angle. Then she angled back down at less than the speed of sound to keep from alarming anyone in BarrSo.
There. That motel. In the parking lot to one side was one of the SUVs which C&R used for surveillance and capture of the Runners from police who were the usual “customers” for bounty hunters.
Outside it looked beat-up and in disrepair, hardly worth stealing. Inside the motor was tuned and powerful, the seats comfortable. There were storage areas for weapons and other equipment. It also had electronics for eavesdropping and other tools of the security trade. The back row of seats had heavy wire in front and back and the doors could not be unlocked by its occupants.
He was in room 203.
Bethany had already concluded that Miguel was set on vengeance and might do something that would get him killed or in prison. She had to stop him. She saw only one way.
She blinked into visibility on the 2nd floor outside walkway that ran all along the side of the three-story motel. She knocked on the door to 203.
The door opened. Miguel said “Get in here” and grabbed one of her wrists. She let herself be pulled inside and turned to face him as he closed and locked the door.
“How did you find... Stupid question. How did you get here?”
Bethany walked over to the dilapidated couch and sat. He looked down at her a moment, made a pistol disappear behind his back, and pulled over one of the straight-backed chairs surrounding the small square table which served as a desk and dining table for the miniscule kitchen. He turned its back away from him and sat facing her, arms over the chair back.
Now that the moment to confess to being a superhuman had arrived her insides were aquiver with nerves.
She stood up abruptly, walked a few steps away from him, turned back, sat.
“I want to tell you something very personal. But you must promise me you’ll never tell anyone. Not Ken. Not Miri. No one.”
“Then don’t tell me.”
“I must. You need to know it.”
He was silent a moment.
“I won’t promise if what you tell me endangers you. Or any
of our families.”
That was as good as she was going to get. She sat back down.
“I flew.”
His stone face became even stonier if that were possible.
Beth activated the bubble, now shaped to conform to her shape. She floated upward a couple of feet and sat in the air, legs still crossed.
“Remember that coma I was in for three weeks? I woke up changed. And older. I’ve lived before. Several lives.
“Ever read any of those old comics like Ken used to do? I’m like UltraMan now. For real. Shoot me and bullets bounce.”
She pointed toward an empty pizza box on the counter separating the mini-kitchen from the rest of the room. A blue bolt blinked. The box became dust.
She settled back on the couch, abolished the bubble.
Miguel sat for almost a minute. Then he carefully got up, returned the chair to its position facing the table, and sat facing her on the side of the bed.
The distancing hurt her. She squelched it.
He rubbed his chin.
“Now tell me about this fucker who shot my brother.”
Vicente Sanchez was a member of a local drug gang. They had kept a low profile until recently. He had been the driver for a couple of other members who were to pick up a shipment. The police had intercepted the transaction and arrested everyone. Sanchez had been able to make bail and had promptly disappeared. So C&R had been tasked to pick him up.
When Miguel and Kendall had done so he had resisted. A lucky shot had entered Ken’s bullet-resistant vest at the arm hole. Miguel had abandoned the pursuit to get Ken emergency treatment. Now he planned to continue the chase.
There was one problem. He’d found Sanchez but he had taken sanctuary in the gang’s L. A. house. He had to wait till the man left the house with few enough companions that he could safely capture them.
“Why can’t the police do this? There must be an arrest warrant for Sanchez. They can even get a house warrant and enter the house to take him.”
The daughter of a high-level policeman had heard enough over the years to be sure of this. Not that she ever paid much attention to the talk, or that Allan had talked shop that much in her hearing. But she’d heard enough.
Miguel opened his mouth to give a reason. But the shapechanger could tell he was going to lie.
“Never mind. I know the answer. You’re going to wait till you have a chance to kill him.”
He opened his mouth again.
“I can tell when people lie to me. Even before they do it. You’re very good. But even you can’t get away with it. Don’t try.”
She thought a moment.
“We’ll do it this way. I’ll go in the house, put the gang members out of commission, and bring him out. We’ll both take him to the police.”
“I can’t let you go into danger—”
“You haven’t listened to me. Not well enough. Here. Try to pull this hand down.”
She put a hand up before him. After a moment he humored her.
Her hand moved not at all. He blinked, then bore down with more strength, then all his strength. Even then it moved only a tiny fraction of an inch.
“That’s just me now. If I put up my shield, well, a tank couldn’t do it.”
“They could shoot you from behind before you shield.”
Yes. They could.
No they can’t. I’d put up the shield for you.
You have my back? Even when you’re not on?
There was the tiniest pause. I’m always on. The shield is not.
Your reflexes are faster than a bullet?
Yes.
Was it her imagination? Or did that answer sound just a tiny bit smug? From a robot?!
Well. It seemed her “absolute power” had just become more absolute.
“No, they can’t. My robot is always on, even if the shield is not. It would switch on before the bullet arrived.”
“Your robot?”
“Oh. There’s a robot inside me. It operates the shield. Which also lets me fly.”
“I still will not let you—”
“No one can LET me now. Get used to the idea.”
It took more argument, more explanations, more argument.
“Look, I’m going to do it one way or the other. I can find out where this house is. I’ve learned how from working with Anson and Joaquin.” Joaquin was the fourth C&R member. He had many of the same skills that Anson did.
“Then I’ll go do this by myself. Your only choice is to go with me or let me do it by myself.”
·
Bethany slept on the floor that night, refusing the bed. That provoked another argument .
“Damn it! Get it through your head! I’m not human. I could sleep on Arctic ice and be perfectly comfortable.”
“Yassah, Boss.”
“Smart Ass.”
“Good night.”
Pause. “Good night, dear friend.”
·
She got a text from her mother at a little after 8:00.
GD NEWS!!! K IN FAIR CNDTN! GOES INTO PRIVAT ROOM THS MORN - WHER R U?
WTH MGL. HE’S TORN UP OVR K. BLMS HMSLF.
AS WLL HE SHD – XOXO
She needed no more sleep. Miguel however had only stirred when she had gotten the Vibrate announcement and sat up on an elbow to read and reply to it. She put herself back to sleep.
·
Miguel woke at 9:00. This woke Bethany.
He was sitting up on the side of the bed away from her. He stood, pulled on camouflage pants. He’d only worn briefs and a sleeveless tee-shirt. She noticed he had a tight muscular butt and muscular upper body, not ugly body-builder bulges but smooth shapes.
She was suddenly sharply aware that he and she were sharing a motel room. That they were male and female.
She sat up and pretended to rub sleep out of her eyes as he padded by her to the bathroom. He carried the pistol with him.
When he came out carrying a small overnight bag for toiletries she stood. Her Sandrine outfit was a bit the worse for wear.
“I’m going to change my appearance. Don’t be surprised when I come out. ”
In the bathroom Bethany peed her usual miniscule clear amount, leaving her good for the next several days. She washed her face more from habit than need. Her shapechanger body kept her skin perfect unless she wanted it different.
This morning she did. She changed her face and figure to a persona she’d crafted months before, that of a teenaged Chinese girl. The change took only a couple of seconds since the changes were mostly skin and a bit of body fat. She thought of it as her Ming (“beautiful”) Yao persona.
The image peering out of the mirror had a more rounded body and face than the one she usually wore. She enlarged the epicanthic folds and made her eyes more slanted. She also spent some time giving herself a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth so that she looked in her mid-thirties. She turned her hair black and into a page boy cut with bangs or fringes which covered her brows.
She looked at herself from several angles in the mirror, added a bit of fat to look as if she had done a bit of muscle-building. The change was cosmetic. Her slender muscles did not need bulges to make her enormously strong.
Miguel had cleaned the room before he left it, probably to wipe out finger prints. She did the same.
He was sitting on the bed when she left the bathroom.
“I need to replace these clothes,” she said.
·
There was a block-long mini-mall close by. In a used-clothing store she bought and changed into an olive sleeveless tee, green camouflage pants, and brown boots.
There was also a Pancake House in the mall. At mid-morning it only had a few customers. They got a window-view table half a room’s distance from anyone else.
They drank coffee flavored with Sweet Vanilla creamer while they waited for their orders. He examined her face closely.
“Hard to believe you’re little Bethany.”
“I’m not. I’m bigger
older Bethany. Lots older. Memories of past lives keep coming back to me at odd times. Like now. I remember being a man eating sausages and drinking beer in Blenheim. It was—1870-something.”
“You were a man?”
“At least twice. Mostly women though.
“I’m still Beth. Just with lots more experience. My emotional reflexes are still mine. But sometimes not. Or they’re exaggerated. For instance, I think nothing of killing Sanchez in horrible ways. Though that may just be Bethany.”
She probed how she felt for a moment.
“Though old Bethany, I mean young Bethany, would be angrier, I think. Hotter. This is a cold angry, distant angry. I’d just do it.”
“You are a scary bitch.” But he smiled as he said it.
She did not smile back.
“Sometimes I’m a scared bitch. I can fly over an army, invisible, and blast it to bits. It scares me that I’ll get to think nothing of it. Or enjoy it. You know the saying, ‘power corrupts—’”
“Pilots get to feel that way. Distanced. So can soldiers who call down fire on enemy positions. But when we go home to our families we still love them. Care for them.
“Oh, I’m not belittling the problem. But we do overcome it with some work. Don’t make too big a deal out of it.”
God, it felt so good to be able to talk about this!
The waitress brought them their eggs and bacon and pancakes and orange juice just then and for a time they ate silently .
Then, over a last cup of coffee, they solidified their plan.
·
An hour later the battered SUV pulled up to the curb before a vacant weedy lot. It was two blocks away from the gang’s safe house.
“It’s the two-story yellow one in the middle of the block, on the right.”
“Aunty Ming” (the label Bethany had given this persona) disappeared. The passenger-side door opened and closed.
A hundred feet up Bethany spoke to her robot.
Can you keep sound from leaving this bubble?
Yes. Do it now?
Yes.
A few feet above the sidewalk in front of the house she called Miguel.
“I’m in silent as well as invisible mode. So I can keep you better informed without alerting anyone. I’ve circled the house low down and high up. All doors and windows are closed and locked. I can break in. But I’m not going to bother. I’m just going to knock on the front door.”