Psion Delta (43 page)

They
all looked like Sammy.

What
was more, they weren’t quite as coordinated as she had expected them to be. One
of them stopped blasting and switched to his gun, then switched back to
blasting, but the transition wasn’t smooth at all. It was as if they weren’t
experienced in combat.

“How
can this be?” she asked. “How can I be shooting at an army that looks like
Sammy?”

“I
don’t know,” Brickert said. “Shoot them anyway.”

“Something’s
going on above us, guys!” Parley called down. “I think I see movement in
between some of the parked cars above us on the first level.”

Everyone
picked up their pace. The worst thing that could happen would be getting
trapped on a ramp. They were near the top. Jeffie sped up until she was jogging
backwards. Brickert tried to keep up. Only a few paces away, he slipped. A
Thirteen saw this and fired. Jeffie tried to shield for Brickert, but something
hit her leg like a hammer. She screamed as she fell, grabbing right below the spot
where her thigh met her hip.

“Help!”
Brickert called out, shielding once more. Parley ran down to help, so did Kobe.
With Brickert providing the coverage, they got Jeffie back to her feet. The
pain was horrible. She could hardly move the leg.

“Thirteens
on the top level moving down the ramp!” Kawai announced. “They’re trying to box
us in.”

With
Kobe and Parley’s help, Jeffie reached the top of the ramp.

“Thanks,”
she told them through gritted teeth.

“You
okay?” Kobe asked.

Jeffie
grabbed her leg, groaning loudly. “I don’t know. Oh, it kills, Kobe! It really,
really hurts!”

“How
bad is the bleeding?”

“Head
for the next ramp!” Li called. “Go! Go! Go!”

“Not
good!” she answered Kobe. “But we have to keep moving.”

The
team took off. Jeffie hurried the best she could, but the pain grew to the
point that putting any pressure on her leg was nearly unbearable. She’d never
experienced anything like it, and soon her gait slowed to the speed of someone
casually walking. Tears stung her eyes as her fear compounded. How could she
hope to survive? Her team needed to run while she could do nothing but crawl.

The
Thirteens from the third level ran up the ramp and met her on the middle floor.
Jeffie turned so she could shield their attacks, keeping her back to the wall.
These Thirteens moved in closer as she scooted away. Her friends had nearly
reached the opposite end of the second level. They didn’t even know they’d left
her behind. To make matters worse, another group of Thirteens had reached the
other ramp and cut her friends off from the top level of the garage. She was
left with (
eight . . . nine . . .
) ten of them to deal with.

Even
as she opened fire, Jeffie knew the game was over. She’d lost.

* * *
* *

Sammy
stared at the chessboard, not because he didn’t know where to place his piece,
but because he wanted out of this room. He glanced out the window to his left.
The sky was black with faint clouds. No moonlight shone through the window.
Finally he moved his piece.

“Your
DNA let us create Hybrids of Thirteens and Fourteens,” the fox said. “It
unlocked the problems we couldn’t solve on our own. Now, if we wanted to, we
could create Fourteens and Elevens or whatever other combinations of the
anomalies you possess. Because of you, we’ve been able to create clones. Clones
are the answer, Sammy! We can’t organize a standing army. The people would
revolt. But a clone army? With your DNA in the mix? That was the answer. It was
the key to everything.”

“You
wanted to kill me because you were afraid that with my DNA the NWG would create
their own clones?”

“No.
We wanted to kill you because we were afraid you would train and lead the NWG
soldiers. The NWG has no plans to start cloning that we know of, though that
would probably change if they learned of our plans with the Hybrids. But you
and your skills? Nothing can duplicate that. You are a human evolutionary
wonder. And I want you fighting on the right team, Sammy. My team.”

The
fox moved his piece, eyes locked on Sammy’s, waiting to see his reaction.

“Why
would I join your team?” he asked as he countered the fox’s move.

“Because
it’s the better side. Because it’s the winning side, too. Because you’re here.
And because I can help you regain your potential.”

“What
potential?”

“Your
Anomaly Eleven. You lost it.” The fox’s eyes told Sammy he knew what he was
talking about. “I read your medical records after you returned home from Omaha.
You were tested and the results showed that you hadn’t regained that lost gift.
I can help you regain it.”

“Because
you share my anomaly, you think you can help me?”

“I
do.” A light on the fox’s com flashed several times. He answered it. After a
pause, he glanced at Sammy and excused himself to the kitchen. Sammy looked out
the window again, playing with the light on his own com as he did so. Again he
wondered what was going on with Ludwig and Li’s teams. He thought of Jeffie and
his hands and arms began to quake with nervousness. After a few moments, the
fox returned and took his seat.

“I
don’t think I want to be part of your team,” Sammy said.

“But
why? You wouldn’t be a Thirteen, you realize. You would work with me. I can
train you, guide you. You will make a great difference in the world.”

“I
spent six months in CAG territory. I know how this place is. The government
rules with fear. You deceive your citizens into believing they are under attack
from the NWG so you can consolidate power. You kidnap anomalies, torture them,
and imprison or kill them. Your people aren’t even free!”

“What
do you mean, they aren’t free?”

“They
live in fear. I saw it with my own eyes. You tell people where they can and
can’t travel. Who they can and can’t talk to. What they can and can’t do. You
can’t tell people how to think and live!”

Again
the game was forgotten as the two Elevens stared each other down. “Don’t pretend
like you understand what you’re talking about,” the fox snapped. “You don’t
have any clue. You grew up in a house. You ate food when you wanted. Your
parents lived well. You lived well. You had every advantage anyone could want.

“Let
me make this simple for you,” the fox continued. His normally soft tone now had
a touch of frost. His finger rested on his rook, tilting it down and up, down
and up with practiced balance. “When you give someone food to put on his table,
when you build a shelter over his head, and most of all, when you give that
person health from this age,” the fox put his hand a half a meter to the floor,
then raised it up high, “to this age, you can tell them exactly how to live and
he will listen. And if you make that same person afraid for his life, he will
beg you to protect him no matter the cost.”

“But
what about freedom?”

“Freedom
is an idea. If someone wants to be free—” he clapped his hands in a dramatic
gesture. “Bam!—they’re free. But you can’t eat freedom. You can’t drink it. Freedom
didn’t cure ninety percent of all cancers. Free doesn’t warm your house during
a brutal winter in Edmonton. It doesn’t cool a house during a sweltering summer
in Quito. You can’t pretend that when push comes to shove people will choose
freedom over saving their children from an early death. Nor will they choose
freedom over being spared from a miserable life of poverty. I know differently.
If you don’t believe me, you’re blind. What you saw was a work in progress.
Since the formation of the CAG, I’ve slowly taken away these same rights and
liberties that people believed were important and replaced them with things
that actually matter, things that are tangible. With genetics and a new, stable
world government created in an image I prefer, we will end hunger and poverty
and sickness. I’ve already proven here, in the Continental American Government,
that I am right. And eventually these ideas will spread around the globe.”

* * *
* *

The
Sammy-like Thirteens drew closer in a pack, not spreading out around her like
Sammy had taught her they preferred to do. They protected themselves with
blasts each time she fired. Jeffie still sensed something wrong or different
about these crude imitations of her friend. It was almost as if they hadn’t
been trained. Perhaps they were new and inexperienced. She didn’t know and
didn’t care. When she glanced back, she saw the rest of her team fifty or sixty
meters ahead.
They don’t even realize I’m not with them.

Several
shots were fired at her. Jeffie slung her gun over her shoulder and used both
hands to protect herself. The Thirteens fired again, but the bullets were
harmless. They began to fan out, finally realizing the better strategy as they
discussed it amongst themselves using their jerks and eerie shrieks. Jeffie
tried to pick up her pace, but almost tripped. This sent a massive jolt of pain
up and down her right side.

Blood
drained from her head and she got woozy, her hands nearly dropping. The Thirteens
fired and she shielded, but her poorly-placed shield let one bullet get through
and it whizzed right by her. She had no choice but to sit and use her feet as
shields, similar to what Antonio had done. Her head rested against the cold
stone wall, her feet up in the air, her gun back in her hands and ready to
fire.

The
Sammy-Thirteens closed in. Jeffie took aim at them, knowing her bullets
wouldn’t be able to penetrate their blasts, but still hoping to get lucky and
do some damage. The strain on her right leg was incredible. She didn’t think
she could keep it in the air for more than another minute or two. She hoped by
then her friends would have the time they need to get back to the cruiser and
rescue Sammy.

She
fired two more shots. Her leg dropped, but she jerked it back up, gritting her
teeth through the pain. One of the Thirteens tried to shoot at her along the
wall, but she successfully used a hand blast to block him. In the eyes of the
Thirteens, she could see the cogs in their heads turning, figuring it out,
learning. Still, they weren’t as aggressive as those she’d encountered in the
sims. They weren’t well-coordinated, either. They lacked the savvy that comes
through repeated battles, but their blasting abilities more than made up the
difference.

Any
minute now, they’ll spot my weaknesses.

Bullets
flew in from another direction. Two of the ten Thirteens were caught off-guard
and killed.

“JEFFIE!”
Kobe called out from a distance, sprinting toward her. “What are you doing?”

“Go,
Kobe!” she screamed at him. “Get out of here!”

“Shut
your mouth!” he said. “You are crazy if you think I’m letting these pukes get
you.”

He
launched himself at them with jump-blasts, shielding his body with one hand and
firing with the other. The Thirteens defended themselves well. Several of them
turned to fight him while others kept their focus on Jeffie, firing at her from
multiple angles, preventing her from shooting back.

“You
think because you broke up with me that I stopped loving you?” Kobe asked as he
fired at the Thirteens again.

Jeffie
tried to smile but a teary grimace was all she could muster through the intense
pain spreading up her side from the gun wound. Kobe attacked and retreated,
attacked and retreated, always careful to protect himself. Another explosion went
off above them. It distracted one of the Thirteens, and Jeffie took advantage.
She strafed him with a long volley of shots across his chest and neck. He fired
back, ignoring the blood pouring from his wounds.

Jeffie’s
feet blasts protected her, allowing her to shoot at another target. She hit the
second in the head with her last bullet. She set the gun down and focused all
her energy on defending herself. The Thirteen with the neck wounds continued to
try to penetrate her shields as his life slowly flowed out of him in red
spurts. Soon, he fell to his knees, shooting pathetically at the ground, and
then his face hit the pavement as he died with his eyes still open, staring at
her.

“Kobe,
I’m empty!” she said. “Be careful!”

“It’s
okay,” he hollered at her. “It sounds like the other Thirteens fell into Li’s
trap. More of us are coming back to help!”

He
backed away from the Thirteens to give himself space, shielding himself as he
gave up ground. The remaining six Thirteens seemed torn between going after Kobe,
who had the gun, and attacking Jeffie, the more helpless of the two. Far away,
at the other end of the garage, the rest of the Li’s team emerged from the
ramp.

Half
of the Thirteens fired at Jeffie. Kobe ran at them, shielding himself from the
remaining three so he could kill the ones firing at her while their backs were
turned. Two of them caught bullets in the back; the third spun and tried to get
Kobe while his second shield was down. Kobe blast-jumped over the spray of
bullets, on his face was an expression of sheer exultation. The other Thirteens
shot at him as he flew through the air. One of them caught his leg. Kobe’s
shielding hand instinctively went to grab at the injury. With his blast gone,
the Thirteens hit him with several more bullets. Kobe landed horribly wrong on
his chest and arms. His eyes were already closed. The Thirteens followed him
with their guns, still firing.