Shadow Over Avalon (13 page)

“My commander is concerned. He thinks you might need an ending. That your brains have dribbled out of your nose, and you chose death. Do you want me to leave you alone with a sharp blade, or can you live with the differences of our lifestyle?” Ector doubted the former, despite Shadow’s disability.

“I . . . want to live. I need . . . ” She struggled to form words. “Nestines taste bad. Shadow . . .
I
want to fight.”

He couldn’t have put it clearer himself. Ector deactivated the door lock, admitting his supreme commander. Ambrose must have been monitoring the Archive for input, or he wouldn’t be here. “Shadow has a problem with language enunciation,” Ector reported. “She is able to understand, and if there’s a communication problem, she is a telepath. I suggest limited use of this ability, or she’ll never learn to speak again. And she wants to kill Nestines.”

“You are a find, youngling. We are at war with that nasty species. What would you say if I gave you the chance to hurt them?” Ambrose smiled encouragement to back up the simple wording selected as appropriate to a primitive.

“Give,” Shadow said.

“Very basic, isn’t she.” Ambrose raised his eyebrows.

“Shadow has a personal score to settle. I think you can take it as a positive yes.”

“Then we’ll start with limb replacement. Show her how one functions, Ector.”

“Elite recruit?”

“The best placement, and keep her in barracks or she’ll get mobbed.” Ambrose looked the girl over with approval. “Report on progress.”

Ector was left with a very inquisitive looking Terran who he could see was bursting with questions. Trust Ambrose to offer a terse solution and leave someone else to deal with practicalities. He found himself rather grateful the girl had limited recollection since it made his task easier.

“Make it better?” Shadow glanced down at her empty sleeve, her brows raised.

“Too difficult. Ambrose meant constructed, like the communication port in my head.” He paused for a second as she accessed the meaning of communication from his mind, wondering at the same time why that notion seemed natural to her. “I lost my right leg below the knee some years back. A new limb is fixed to my own flesh.”

“Wood?” Now she looked disappointed.

“No, many parts giving the movement of a natural limb.” Ector pulled off one boot and rolled up the leg of his uniform gray bodysuit. He ran the blade of his belt-knife down the inside calf; pulled back lips of the plastiskin to reveal a glistening display of metal, fibers and microprocessors.

“Same?” Shadow pointed to the console, which happened to be of the same color metal as inner parts of his prosthesis.

“Yes, except those aren’t designed to move.” Ector resealed the opening with adhesive from a repair kit he carried in his belt pouch. Before he could regulate his clothing, Shadow’s hand was there, first touching the plastiskin, then his wrist.

“Feel?”

“Yes, nearly the same touch sensitivity.” He decided he preferred her mental raids to simplifying his vocabulary. “Want one?”

“Leg fine—got two. Sha—
I
not need three.”

Ector looked up at her apparent misconception, but she wore a faint smile. The girl had a sense of humor. He smiled back, thinking that perhaps this wouldn’t be such a solemn task.

“Where this place?” Shadow waved her remaining arm in an encompassing circle.

“A long way from where we found you,” he hedged. The moment he dreaded approached.

“Where, Ector?”

“We must live by water. It is safer for us.” On impulse, he escorted her down a corridor to a central grav-riser to let her see the city for herself. When the thing moved, Shadow went pale and tried to find a handhold on the smooth shaft sides. She gave him an icy glare on attaining solid ground again. They stepped out on the flat rooftop of barracks.

“Sky all wrong . . . color,” she stated. “No . . . white stuff either.”

“It is the color it always is, since you are looking at a wall of water above. The sky is over that.” Ector waited for her reaction, wondering if he should have broken it to her in stages.

“Water falls. Ector lies.”

“Ever hold a cup over water, lower it as far as you can? The cup will remain empty as long as the sides are sitting just on the surface of water so air can’t escape. Think of Avalon as having a clear cup all around it. We can see the water, but it can’t get in through the barrier.”

Shadow looked around the city and blinked as if she expected it to disappear.

“The Nestines can’t breathe water. We are safe here.”

“Where?”

“On the bottom of the sea. Where else?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Why save? What use . . . an Outcast?”

“You are the first one of your kind to remember seeing a Nestine. If we can discover why, we may find a way to free the fort-dwellers. Having allies on the surface instead of enemies increases our chance of winning.”

“Brethren . . . not human. Maybe all can see . . . bad things. Don’t know—can’t remember . . . others.” Shadow turned to face him, her eyes flat with anger in contrast to her mild words. “Why Shadow help? Want kill foulness, only.”

“If we could pick Nestines off one by one, or in a group, we’d have done so. We can’t get close enough to use the type of weapons we need to penetrate their defenses without stirring an entire fort against us.” Ector shrugged off her immediate raid for data. “Perhaps we’ll catch another like you, too sick to resist. Can you tell me why your brothers all fight to the death?” He hadn’t detected any clue in her mind, yet he wondered if she held back.

“Shadow would, too. Die quick in fight . . . not as captive.”

“I gave you the chance to kill yourself. Why didn’t you take it?” Ector kept his breathing even, despite his sudden disquiet. Just how safe was she going to be around others if trained and equipped as Ambrose planned? Again, he felt her touch his mind in a search for language.

“Ector know of Harvesters. Reason . . . enough.”

*

Tarvi attached the replacement later that day after a certain amount of huffy objection from the now unconscious Terran, who had wanted to watch. Tarvi had to explain the need to drill into bones, and the pain caused by splicing raw nerve endings to stow-filaments, before she consented to submit to anesthetic.

“Considered downloading a decent vocabulary in our little Terran’s mind?” Tarvi asked, packing away his equipment.

“It wouldn’t make any difference to her. The speech center is damaged, not her understanding. Once she manages a new word, she keeps it.”

“Why create a mute? I can’t figure the advantage, not if you release the subject. Now if she’d been a Nestine inner-slave, I could see the point.”

“What if you were a Nestine and you’d gone to a great deal of trouble to ensure just the right kind of Terran population reached maturity? What if you then discovered one misfit you’d somehow missed? It can’t be removed without unsettling your herd. You already have a system to deal with deviants, so what better way of disposal? Terrans lose all interest in their Outcasts. She can’t protest, since she can’t speak.”

“I haven’t had time to access retrieval. Why not simply tell me why you and Ambrose seem so pleased with her.”

“Regard the sleeping Terran telepath.” Ector grinned.

“How would you like a split lip? I spent ages explaining that procedure when all I needed was a link.”

“I’m trying to make her talk more. It won’t happen if she gets an easy option every time.” He followed Tarvi out, still arguing his point.

Over the next weeks, Shadow learned to use her new arm while Ector drilled her in unarmed combat and swordplay with either hand. He explained that more advanced weaponry drew the Nestines like predators to blood, restricting their usage to extreme situations. He also had Tarvi adjust the limb several times until it was equal in strength to his own preferred fighting arm. Now she worked to develop increased shoulder musculature to be a match for any man in combat, something Ector delayed, aware she could be an incident waiting to happen.

Her thirst for knowledge sent her searching the Archive for data on the ‘Ancients,’ as she called pre-holocaust humanity. Ector became her willing ally, until the Archive began lodging complaints with Ambrose. The commander contacted Ector late one night, via a console secure channel.

“Shadow is amusing herself,” Ector said. “Would you rather she gets so bored she starts exploring outside? She’s skilled at moving with stealth. Short of chaining her, I can’t guarantee I could stop her.”

Ambrose assumed his patient look on the vid screen. “Interest her in Avalon’s history. There’s plenty of teaching data the Archive wouldn’t notice being accessed.”

“I tried. I did try. Shadow says she will be working on the surface world, so she doesn’t see the point.”

“Well, get her another hobby. I had sixteen complaints today. The Archive slows down every time I try to access the database, just in case I failed to listen to my voice mail—” Ambrose’s face suddenly disappeared from the screen as the link failed.

Aware he would be the next target for disagreeable little glitches, Ector considered alternatives. Shadow hadn’t the patience for creative projects, being interested in immediate gratification; a primitive trait. He couldn’t increase her field training any more without pushing her too hard and risking losing her enthusiasm, something he needed if she were to become an effective elite operative. Aquatic recreation was not demanding, while practical for an Elite recruit, but he hadn’t intended to introduce this training yet, not certain how she’d react to some of the truths she’d find.

He booked the smaller therapeutic pool for their exclusive use, and then herded Shadow to the lower level chamber, refusing to tell her why, as he wanted her reaction without prejudice. Some Terrans showed an instinctive fear of water; he needed to know if she had this affliction.

Shadow glanced around at the twelve by fifteen meter pool, smiling. “Big bath. Better than standing in rain.” Holo images on the walls of a shoal of fish swimming in and out of kelp seemed to fascinate her.

“Shower,” Ector corrected.

“Water dripping from above is shower, part of rain.”

Ector didn’t bother wasting time arguing when her stubborn streak showed itself. At least she seemed happy enough near water.

“Swimming is part of our training. Perhaps we’ll find you can swim.” Ector caught Shadow’s doubtful expression. As they both wore home-based uniforms, he stripped off to his water repellent, standard issue underclothes, waiting while she did the same.

“I’m not like your men on the surface. I look the same right now, but water brings a change.” Ector stood still, allowing her to look over his part-naked body for obvious differences.

“Ector has big hands and feet. Neck wounds too. Should have them closed.”

“I wouldn’t want that. Remember I’m the same man in water as out. Not a threat to you.” He sat on the rounded pool edge to dangle his feet in the water. An instinctive reaction in his natural foot, and programmed response in his artificial one, caused his toes to splay apart, allowing the membranes between each digit to unfold. Shadow joined him, trying to make her own feet perform a task unintended by nature.

“Ector has more skin,” she said, appearing not in the least fazed.

“My hands, too.” He demonstrated.

“Ector has frog hands.”

“More than that. Ector can live underwater.” He cursed himself for baby talk. It was so infectious, and he knew how much she resented it.

“Shadow wants mind think.” She pushed out her will, which Ector resisted.

She was becoming stronger, damn it! “If you invade, I’ll give you every boring moment I’ve ever lived, holding tight to make you experience it. Just how much do you want to speak?”

An unfair challenge and he knew it. Her need to communicate outweighed any other consideration. The pressure of her thoughts ceased.

“Ector cheats.” She made a face.

“I don’t remember setting any rules. I will make you speak again if we’re both driven insane in the process.”

“Ector mean.”

“Practical, in the long term, I’m not going to give in.”

Shadow glared, but seemed to find a lid for her temper. She studied his difference. “Want more. I not afraid.”

“
I’m
not afraid,” Ector corrected. He eased himself over the side, keeping his throat clear of moisture. He’d just noticed a change in her, a faint roundness. Perhaps better food caused it, but exercise should have burned off excess calories. Maybe the way she sat made a difference.

“Watch here, Shadow,” he called, pointing to his neck and submerging to his chin. The gill flaps opened allowing membranes to unfurl and start pumping.

“Ector not frog. Ector fish.”

He surfaced so he could speak again. “Not quite. It’s a backup system with a limited usage. I can stay submerged for three hours maximum, and then I must breathe air, or die.”

“Wet creatures need live near water,” Shadow stated, accepting his need for the pool. She pushed off the side, quite confident she could float as he did, angry when he had to show her how.