Harsh Lessons (21 page)

Henderson couldn't see what happened, but suddenly Sanchez froze.  Long seconds passed, the only sound her panting breaths.

Gradually they slowed.

Then the man rose and turned toward him, and Henderson felt a simultaneous surge of anger and fear as he strained to see his partner, see what had been done to her.

He caught a glimpse of her face while the man walked the few steps separating them.  She seemed… stunned.  Then the man was crouching down before
him
, the hands reaching out to grip Henderson's own head.  The cop fought against the ties binding his arms, feeling the nylon crush flesh against bone.

The hands were chill, and radiated a sense of contamination so strongly that Henderson squirmed against the implacable grip.

'That is not anger.  Those ugly shapes are fear.  Do not hold out your fear now, it will be needed later.  Feel your anger instead.'

Henderson cringed away.  At last the man stood and stepped away, leaving him shocked at the relief he felt; ashamed by the feeling of escape even while standing bound to the twisted steel rope.  This guy scared him; scared him more deeply by the minute.  Behind the fear lay a strange emptiness now.  He hated being helpless, being made to feel weak; but instead of anger at his situation there was a strange acceptance.

The man walked back to Sanchez.  She watched, her hands still bound in the rip-cords, those in turn tied to the broken lamp-post by strands of electrical wire, her fingers told her.

A soft whir and the brief flash of scanning lasers across the scene was the only announcement of the arrival of the security bot Henderson had summoned earlier.

Sanchez saw it first.  Somehow it had found them, deep inside the shattered Dumps, and she grabbed her chance.  'Take down the hostile.'

The squat robot shuttled forward, taser rounds ready and pepper spray armed, and the man turned.  Then strode to meet it.

Electroshock projectiles fired.  The man jerked as thousand volt pulses shot through him.  Freezing, he collapsed – but to Henderson, it looked more like he'd knelt down, rather than fallen down.  His eyes widened. 
It hadn't worked – he was shamming!
  'Lethal force!  Shoot the fucker!' he screamed.

The bot objected.  'No hostile activity detected.  Lethal Response authorization required.'

'Detective Richard Henderson, badge num-'

But the large man was already standing and lifting the chunky armored robot by one of its four sturdy legs.

The bot responded instantly, fine wires stabbing into its assailant, electricity this time visibly sparking across the man's skin as it tasered him again.  But again, the man merely jerked. 
What was he?
  Gripping the bot tighter, he swung it up, then down, slamming it into the broken roadway with the sound of a pile-driver.

Concrete shattered, the impact cracking the case-hardened steel like a walnut.  Electronic guts spilled out.  The man walked back to Sanchez and stopped.  Her eyes moved in disbelief from the smashed robot to the lunatic before her.  Wondering what he'd now do.

For several seconds he said nothing.  Then: 'You have been distracted by the robot.  It is destroyed; irrelevant.  Focus on the matter at hand.'

Sanchez gaped at him.

'Recall: you had inquired of the mother.  This Marc Disten told you she was likely dead.  You remember?'

Sanchez stared at him in disbelief, then Henderson saw her shake her head, then her whole body, and then spit at him, cursing.

But the man failed to react, simply reached out to grasp Sanchez's head.  'Yes, anger.  Bring forth the rest of your anger.'

Sanchez struggled and swore.  And then she calmed.  Too quickly. Henderson saw her expression alter.  It was hard to read: confusion, yeah, but she appeared to be in some kind of distress, too.  Straining at his bonds, he felt them cutting again into the flesh of his wrists.

'What did you do to me?' Sanchez demanded.

'You are being Perfected.  Your anger is gone.  Now bring forth your hatred, so it too may be taken.  Hatred.  Now.'

'Are you crazy?'  But even as she asked it, Sanchez herself could feel that something had changed.  She really didn't feel angry anymore.  She'd been knocked unconscious, seen her partner beaten….  Had been kidnaped and was about to be tortured – yet she didn't feel angry.  She felt
calm
.

'Hatred.  Now.'

'Don't be stupid.  People don't emote on cue.'

'That is true.  You will need a focus.'  He appeared to think.  'Consider the people killed.  The people you are sworn to serve and protect.  Their deaths at these hands.  It has been difficult, learning how to bring others to clarity.  Perhaps tonight it can be achieved, with your help.'

'You
are
mad.'

'Pity.  Yes, feel pity for the man who stands before you.  His successful life in society destroyed.  A stockbroker.  Now skulking in the wastelands with the human and near-human refuse.  Preying on them, trying to bring each one to Perfection; watching each one shatter in these hands instead, as they resist clarity, resisting the truth.  Remember the boy, tonight, alone in the alley as his mother moaned in pain, dying.  Pity him.'

When his hands went to her head again, Henderson saw, Sanchez's face shone with an expression he'd only seen in the trids.

'Sorrow, too.  Think of the lives lost.  Think of the pain they suffered.  Sadness is a pain that can be removed.'

Sanchez was crying.  Though calming.  A cold prickling ran through Henderson at how quickly she calmed.  And at the look of shock that dawned on her face.

The man addressed her.  'You begin to see, don't you?  You know what is being done.  Man is a rational creature.  That is the ideal.  But a rational creature would not engage in war, or destroy and foul its environment.

'Fear, and greed.  Desire, arrogance.  Man is an angel in a devil's body, ruled by lusts and drives that blind him.  With these removed, man can achieve Perfection.'

'Monster!'

The man stiffened.  'Horror.  Good.'  His hands returned to Sanchez's head despite her efforts to squirm away.  With apparent ease he forced her face up, to look into his eyes.  'Your body language reveals that you find the touch of these hands repellent, now that you understand.  Horror too, shall be taken.  Fear will be left till last.  Fear is an excellent motivator.'

When the man stopped, her eyes no longer sparked with fire.

'Why are you doing this?'

'To improve the world.  To save mankind from itself.'

'If that's true, why take away pity?  That's a good emotion.  It makes people help others.'

'You are not yet thinking clearly.  The emotions are a web.  Each is not alone, not an absolute.  They form opposing points.  Unless all are removed, the web would re-form in time.

'You ask this because you realize love is next.  That is perceptive.  Already you are improving.'

'No!  Please, no more.'

'It is not time for fear yet.  Now is the time for love.'

He took her head, angling it toward her partner.  'Do you care for him?'

Sanchez only moaned, and Henderson found himself screaming obscenities and thrashing at his bonds  as he watched this thing in human form destroy Sanchez piece by piece.

Turning her into a zombie, like all the others!

Then it stood, crossing the short distance to him with the tread of an implacable nightmare.  Terror rose up through the fear until Henderson felt he was going mad.  Chill hands pressed
cold
into his head, eyes and touch passing secret knowledge as anger and fear drained from him like water through those wintry fingers; the surges of a retreating tide.

Henderson blinked, unsure whether he’d passed out – maybe more than once.  He couldn't tell how much time had passed when at last he sagged against the nylon bonds.  He felt numb. 
Am I
in shock? 
He felt calm, though.  It was a relief.  With the fear gone, the heart no longer pumped like it would explode from his chest.

Sanchez watched as her partner slumped.  She wished to get to him, to free him.  To free them both.  This man was breaking the law.  She clung to that thought.  He had killed people, and that was wrong. 
It was against the law.

He stood before her again.  'Your emotions are strong, and come easily to the surface.  Unfortunately, your partner could not separate his fear from his anger.  It will make it impossible to motivate him for the final steps.  He may motivate you, however.  You can control how he will die.  If you co-operate, he will be killed quickly.'

'You don't need to kill him.'

'He cannot be Perfected now.  And he now knows far too much.  He must be killed.'

'You could kill him very slowly.'

Henderson heard the words with shock.  'Sanchez.  What has he done to you?'

Sanchez stared back at him, her expression open, wistful.  'That way we could be together longer.'  Her eyes returned to the madman's face.  'Or you could cripple him, so he wouldn't be a threat, and I could care for him.'

'Sanchez!'  Even as Henderson said it, a sick horror threatened to overwhelm him. 
Sanchez had already been destroyed.
  She turned to look at him.

'I love you, Richard Henderson.  I will look after you.'

The man looked content.  'Very well.  If you co-operate, he will be crippled so he is no longer a danger.'  He stood, turning towards Henderson.  Who watched him approach.  In terror, he watched the hand grip his throat.  'No, Sanchez, he said
all
the emo-'

The grip tightened, strangling the words.  Then pain exploded as the hand crushed his larynx, tearing an inhuman scream from him that echoed across the dark waters of the Bay.

Barely conscious, he saw the man cross back to his partner.  Barely heard the words past the agony of the raw internal wound.

'Now.  You understand what must be done.  Let us try jealousy.'

Henderson watched Sanchez as she appeared to think, then nodded.  'That bitch Hollings.  What did she have that I didn't?'

It was like a nightmare Henderson couldn't wake from.  And the loving looks she was casting at him only deepened the horror.  How could Sanchez have forgotten that this creature said
all
the emotions had to be destroyed?  How could she think she'd be left capable of feeling love?  He was sinking into shock, he could tell. 
Sanchez loves me?
  They were partners, that was all.  Cops.

He passed out.

Chapter 25 

Old-Nelson had parked the car back under the Elephant and Castle sign, which swayed in a wind that wasn't there.

It had been a relief when Faith blew him up.  She buried her face in her friend's shaggy coat, inhaling the rich scent of dog and ozone and machine oil, and knew she'd come home.

But Mother and Father were cross.  They said Faith was a very bad dog and Leeth should have trained her better.  Which was totally unfair.  She hadn't
trained
Faith – they were just a team.

They were going to disguise Faith as a Japanese girl so she and Leeth could go on missions together, but Preacher had curled his lip as they passed him on their way to the front lawn.  'I wouldn't have needed a
rocket
,' he sneered.

Faith rolled her eyes.

'I know.  He's always grumpy like that.  But Emma and James are real nice.  You'll love them.  And wait till you meet Dojo – he's a-
maz
-ing!'

Faith looked interested, but reminded her she was late.  'For pat
roll
ing' she growled, and took off in a loping run, her cyber muscles powering up.

The Jungle had gotten a lot bigger, and as they climbed the last stretch of the mountain, past the laser-blast crater in its side, Leeth saw Faith realize her paws couldn't grip the rocks properly.

Why on
earth
did I choose
this
route?
Grabbing onto the mountain with one arm, and Faith with the other, they dangled high above the buildings of the Institute that sprawled out far below.

'Sara!  You should cover yourself!'

Godsson eyed her Hunting Outfit as if its bikini top and the fringes of her shorts were making fun of him.

Faith growled at him to shut up or she'd blast him again.  The three of them were walking abreast down the road from the Institute's front doors, heading for the front gate so Godsson could escape.  Faith said it was a bad idea.  Which was true.  She'd promised Professor Sanderson she wouldn't escape him.

Godsson was waving a finger at Faith.  '
You
have to stop blowing people up.  I won't warn you a second time.

'And you, Sara, do you remember what I told you?  What you decided you had to tell the Bird?'

'Uh….'

'What Melisande told my companions and I?  Before we killed her?'

She did.  That is, she
could
remember.  Almost.  She just needed a hint, maybe?

Godsson sighed.   'The reason she broke the Net.'  He stared at her.  'It's very important, Sara.  You have to tell the Bird about the aliens.'

'Oh!  I do!  I mean, I will.  Come on, we can tell him together, right now.'

But the elevator kept going down, and down, and down.  And when she stepped out alone into Godsson's cell, he looked up like he was shocked to see her.

'Sara?  Or should I say, L'ith?  How are you here?  How
can
you be here?  What has Harmon done?'

She felt heavy.
I've gone too deep.

'Never mind.'  He smiled, and rose from his cot.  'It's good you're here.  I thought you'd forgotten your promise to rescue me.'

'But I promised Professor Sanderson-'

'
And
you promised me.  But come now.  I have someone for you to meet.  He's been searching for you.  You two will be Perfect together.'

She backed away.  Suddenly cold.  Like Bad Robo was nearby.

Godsson stopped, looking at her strangely.  'Wait!  Before you go – there's something you need to know.  Something even more important than the message for the Bird.'