Harsh Lessons (24 page)

Not smiles.  None of the agents seemed to smile at her as much as they used to.  Only Dojo.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing wrong.  But just then the door chimed and slid open.  So it was probably exactly nine a.m.  With a sneer, Preacher waved her in ahead of them.

From their looks, though, they had as little idea as her what this new training was about.

Inside, her uncle sat stiffly by the robo-medical unit from the infirmary, a strange pair of glasses and surgical instruments at hand.  Four army cots covered in blue plastic sheets crowded the small room.  Leeth caught a look pass between Preacher, James, and Emma when they saw the cots, and it wasn’t reassuring.  Then James and Emma both looked at
her
, for some reason.

Surgical instruments?
 
Keepie could heal people
magically
, why would he need surgical instruments?

Another door slid open and the three agents filed past her, past him.  He looked angry or upset; she couldn't tell which.

But when his eyes met hers… just for a flash, she thought she saw concern.  For her. 
For her
.  Hugging that knowledge to herself, she followed the others into the next room.  Behind them, the heavy inner door slid shut.

She stepped into a shooting range.  Emma sat perched on a large bullet-absorbent crate at the near wall.  They’d been told to dress in clothes they didn’t mind ruining, but Emma still looked elegant in a mustard cardigan over a cream pantsuit.  James sported a jacket, shirt and trousers less perfect than normal; Preacher, his usual leathers and T shirt.

Leeth had spent an hour trying to find something she didn’t love.  In the end, she’d decided to wear her favorite outfit – after all, it’d survived endless patching and mending, from rocket blasts to being stabbed through the heart.  What would a few more patches and stitches hurt?

It was only now, standing in the room alongside James and Preacher, that she started to wonder
why
they might ruin their clothes?

At the far end of the room, Father stood with one arm resting on a matte black, deadly-looking machine.  A gun barrel poked through a hemispherical shield, held by a robot arm.  Mounted on rails, it could move forward, backward, left, right, up and down.

It looked fierce.

She saw James and Emma exchange a short, worried look.

On top of the gun’s shield, a small yellow target had been set.

‘You’re not going to like this,’ Father warned them, ‘but keep in mind the purpose of this training is to increase the likelihood of your survival in a gunfight.  This device,’ he said, patting the ugly machine, ‘is known as a SHUTZ unit.  That acronym can be blamed on the sense of humor of some egghead in Nemesys WeaponTech.  The SHUTZ is a laser-scanning auto-targeting computer-controlled gun.  For these training exercises, we have mounted a low caliber firearm.

‘We’re not trying to
kill
you, just sharpen your edge.’  Father smiled, and Leeth found herself smiling back at him.   ‘Now that we have magical healing capabilities, we are able to provide more realistic training exercises.  As we are all now aware, from our refresher course with Dojo.’

The others groaned, and Leeth eyed them in surprise.  
Didn’t they
like
training with Dojo?

At their reaction, he held up a finger.  'Think of it this way: every time the Doctor heals you, it makes it easier for him to heal you the next time.  In that sense, the more you're injured, the better!'

For some reason, though, the others didn't respond to his encouraging smile.

'Now, although you all have either neural enhancement of your reaction speed, or are…’ he glanced at Leeth, ‘uncommonly fast, I know each of you have experienced situations where you faced someone even faster.’  He shrugged.  ‘Some people will always overspecialize.'

She frowned.  Emma and Preacher had cyberware too?  Not just James?

‘And I’m sure I don’t need to remind any of you that a firefight is the last refuge of the incompetent.’

Yeah
, agreed Leeth, nodding. 
You should kill people with your bare hands.

‘Still, they are not always avoidable.  Of course, the accepted wisdom is that the person who shoots first gains initial control of the situation.  Which is true – normally. One's instinctive reaction is to take cover, dodge, at least flinch….'

Father's briefing continued.  Leeth looked around, eyeing the target they had to shoot to "win".  It was pretty small; and she had a hunch the robogun would move fast on its rails.

She chewed her bottom lip.

‘The rules are quite simple.  When the hologram wall is turned off, your object is to shoot the designated target on the SHUTZ unit, disabling it.  However, until you have done so, or are down and no longer firing, it will continue to live up to its name.

‘Of course at maximum rating, the unit can target and shoot with inhuman speed and precision.’

So saying, he turned sideways to the machine, commanded it back ten meters along its rail, then struck a match in a broad sweeping arc through the air.

It was still flaring alight as its head blew off.  The crack of gunfire died quickly against the sound-deadening walls.

Wow!
  Leeth glanced at the others, but for some reason they looked even
less
happy than before.

Father continued, explaining all about how Nelson had changed the gun's software for this training – including stuff about "variable enemy skill simulations" – and how the Doctor had helped choose what areas the gun wasn't allowed to shoot.

But the explanations and discussion went on, and on, until she began to wonder if Father would
ever
ask the question she was waiting for.

‘If there are no further queries, we can start.  Who would like to vol-?’

‘Oh!  Me!  Please, me!’

The other three looked at her. 
Hah!
  She stuck her tongue out at them.  Slowpokes!

They all looked at her strangely.

‘I thought you might, Leeth.  Good girl.  Now, considering your relative inexperience with firearms, we’ll be making the target area larger.’  From inside his jacket, he replaced the small yellow target with a larger flexible disk.  ‘The rest of us will join the Doctor in the outer room.’

At some hidden command, the room darkened.  A hologram of a brick wall sprang into existence, temporarily hiding the robot gun and its opponent from one another.  Leeth heard the heavy whirring as the device moved to a new location.

‘We'll watch on camera from the next room, Leeth.  Do your best.’

‘Sure!’

‘Father?’ Emma asked, ‘how long will we be doing this?’

‘The Doctor has already determined how responsive your bodies are to his healing magic.  Depending on the vagaries of each healing – as I understand it, the effort is not entirely predictable – and since we are limited only by his ability to heal your injuries, we estimate you should each be able to have two, three, or perhaps more of these exercises each day.’

‘For how many days?’ demanded Preacher.

Father turned towards the leather-clad agent.  ‘Until I am satisfied by your performance.’

A minute later the brick wall winked out, the heavy gun-carriage already hurtling closer along its rail.  Something about the sureness of the way the barrel swiveled towards her made Leeth change her mind about standing her ground to take her shot.  She dived to the left, firing at the yellow target.  Missed!  She saw the barrel swing round and down, following her movement.  Rolling, she fired again as the robot weapon boomed.  Something slammed into her thigh.

But she’d expected the pain.  Pushing it aside, she fired again, even as the gun swooped, tracked a fraction to the left, and shot her left thigh.

This time, she cried out, but snapped off another shot, feeling blood wetting both legs. 
It really is targeting kindly,
she thought, as her third shot also missed, the robogun continuing to move and weave.  This time the implacable matte-black barrel twitched left and shot her through the kneecap; and at that she screamed and fell.  Through red and black waves, she fired again and again from the ground, and finally saw the yellow target flutter.

At once the firing stopped.

Keepie burst through the kevlar curtains looking stricken, while she tried to smile through the honest pain.

James and Preacher followed with a blue stretcher-cot, easing her onto it.  Behind them, a calm, synthetic male voiced said ‘left thigh, round exited; right thigh, round not exited; left knee, round not exited.’

Her uncle swore, but even as they carried her into the next room past a shocked Emma, she felt Uncle pour healing into her left thigh.

Father swung the digital X-ray screen out while James and Preacher slid her left knee under it.

With effort, she slowed her panting breaths.  Keepie finished his first healing as Emma injected an anesthetic in and around her shattered kneecap.

‘Ahhh. 
Thank
you!’

The snap of rubber gloves brought her eyes open.  Keepie stood over her with a scalpel, the arms of the robot nurse-unit outstretched towards her, ready for his verbal commands.

But at the sight of the familiar scalpel, a wave of panic flooded her and she tried to scrabble backward, off the cot.  Emma pressed down firmly on her shoulders, holding her still.  ‘Easy, Leeth, easy.’

Leeth’s eyes flashed to her uncle’s – and for once, just for a moment, saw pain there.  His lips parted; and somehow she knew he was about to suggest she look away.

Her panic vanished in a flare of outrage, and she glared back at him,
daring
him to speak his lie.

His expression closed in.  For just a moment, then, she thought she saw something else.  Then the cool disinterest returned.

Studying the X-ray, he angled his scalpel tip along the entry path of the bullet.  Touched her skin with it.  ‘Anesthetic here, here, and along here….’

Using the AR glasses, he set up the robot-held instruments and marked out trajectories.  Instructed by voice commands and gestures, the bot began cutting even as he mapped out the next, and the next incision.

It cut precisely, passionlessly; painlessly. 
How different to normal.

Oh!  Maybe I can say that out lou…, out… outlaw, outlived, alive, a-la,
a-la-la-la….

When she could think again, she blushed, knowing she'd failed again to break his controls, right in front of them all.  Like she'd been flaunting the truth right in front of them.  As if she
wanted
it; or didn’t even care.

She growled, focusing on the impersonal blades slicing her numbed flesh.  Then stared at her uncle, accusingly – until her thoughts started vague-ing out again.  Growling louder then, she dropped her gaze back to the surgery.  From the corners of her eyes she saw the others shift, and felt her ears burn.

'Uh, Leeth, wouldn't you like a sedative?' Emma offered.  'You don't need-'

'I'm not a
baby!'

Emma flinched back, and her lips pressed shut.

Leeth turned away, to watch the surgery.

Harmon slid the Senjik three-prong claw in to grip and extract the main fragment of the round as soon as the scalpels retracted.

Drawing it out he checked the X-ray and began directing the nurse’s next incision.  His eyes burned briefly into Father's, who stood coolly watching, before returning to operating on Leeth’s leg.

‘I take it you would like to include kneecaps as an interdicted target area, Doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well.  I’ll have Nelson add it while you work.’

‘Have him add in
all
the joints.  I don’t want to be picking shrapnel from inside such delicate parts of anyone’s body.  Why didn’t someone tell me bullets broke up into fragments?’

Father and the three agents looked at Harmon as if he were an idiot.

One minute later he fished out the last round, embedded in her right thigh.

Two minutes later, Leeth carefully paced the room, letting her fresh-healed tissues realize they were fine.   James left then to enter the firing range, pushing through the kevlar curtain and taking up his position.

Emma and Preacher stared from Leeth to her uncle, then their attention was grabbed by the screen as James dived, firing, at the SHUTZ’s target.

Father nodded approvingly to Leeth.  ‘I’m impressed by how quickly you learned to accept the pain.’

Leeth looked at him, stunned by the stupid remark.  She opened her mouth; then shut it again and turned back to the screens, the fun suddenly drained away.

Her uncle was watching her, she saw, his expression carefully neutral.  For long seconds, they just stared at one another.  When she looked away, back to the screen, James stood grinning and uninjured.

‘Good work, James,’ Father said.  'We’ll shorten the response times for you, next time.'

James’s grin vanished.

‘Who’s next?’  Father asked.  ‘Emma?’

Leeth tugged at his arm.  ‘Do we have to take turns?  I could go again!’

James entered the room to find everyone staring at Leeth as if she’d just declared she was the queen of the zombies or something.

‘What’s going on?  Did I miss something?’

Father ignored him, his eyes on Leeth, measuring her.  ‘I think it best if we follow a strict rotation.  Emma: you’re next.’

By the end of the second week, though, even Leeth was glad when the SHUTZ exercises finished.
 

Chapter 31 

'We know almost nothing of your social skills – except that they're woefully inadequate.'

Mother and Father had called Leeth to a joint meeting, this time in Mother's office.  For once, it looked like maybe Mother had done some actual work, since there was an e-sheet and a small package on her desk.  Which otherwise, as usual, was completely empty.

'So.  What kind of social interactions did you experience at the Institute for Paranormal Dysfunction?

'Eagle said I'm not allowed to talk about anything that happened there.  Maybe you should ask him?'