Soulwalker (8 page)

“True. I think he did it just to piss me off. He succeeded.”

“What happened?” The Monitor called up the official report on his computer screen.

“They knew we were coming. The compound was lit up like the Council building. Shark got blinded, and I had to shut down the power on the roof. The targets were gone, Monitor. The rooms were empty. Of course, Corman’s victims were screaming like banshees as he ripped them apart. And it wasn’t one or two, Monitor. He was going through the guards at will.” She didn’t like laying blame, instead content to let the cards fall as they will, but it was good to let off some steam. And the Monitor needed to know they had been betrayed.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” the Monitor said, “but I’ll look into it. In the meantime, take some time off and rest up. It’s been a hell of a couple of weeks.”

“Yes, Monitor.” She pushed off from the wall toward the door.

“Oh, and Tarris? If it’s worth anything, you did a hell of a job getting everyone out of there.”

“Thanks.” She left the room, and the door silently closed behind her.

The meeting had gone better than she could ever have hoped for. While it meant two weeks without pay, her head was still on her shoulders and that was of utmost importance. As she strolled toward her apartment, other matters surfaced. Maybe she could arrange a meeting with the mediprac who she hoped would help her walk again. She wanted her legs back.

Chapter 4

Tarris sought out the one place where she felt relaxed. At the park, she found the familiar form of her friend, Darmen, in his usual position under a tree. Here was a bright spot in an otherwise awful day.

“So you do live here! I knew it…” Tarris couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m here often enough, my friend. Maybe I do.”

“Either that, or you’re spying on me.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” When the smile slid off Tarris’s face, Darmen added, “It was a joke, Tarris. Not in a good mood?”

“Sorry. No, I’m not in a good mood.”

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to leave you alone?” Concern etched his wrinkled face.

It didn’t take much thought to answer the question. “I could use some company. Maybe we can plan this dinner you seem so keen to have.” Tarris felt the tension leave her as the old man smiled at her.

“Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t go out much.”

Darmen laughed. “Me, either, except when I have to. You know… for work.”

“Ah yes, those kinds of dinners.”

“Boorrrriing,” he said with a moan.

“What makes you think this one won’t be the same?” Tarris’s communication skills were pretty bare, to say the least. “I haven’t had a lot of practice at making polite conversation.”

“You seem to be doing fine with me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” And he was right. She had to remind herself that she was going out for a meal with her friend. She shouldn’t make more out of it than needed to be.

“Of course I’m right.” Darmen shook his head. “Now can you please help an old man up?” He extended his arm for Tarris to grab.

“You know very well you can get up on your own.” But that didn’t stop her obliging him.

“How many times do I have a beautiful young woman to come to my aid?” His words made her blush.

“Plenty of times, I’m sure.” She clicked her tongue. “You are incorrigible, old man. Preying on my good nature like that.” The light banter eased her concern.

“Feeling better now?” It was as if Darmen could read her thoughts.

“Yes, and thank you.”

“For what, my dear?” His eyes twinkled in mischief.

“You know very well what, you old scallywag!”

“Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. That’s the problem with this world… trying to replace the old with the new.”

“And not all of it is good,” Tarris added.

“You like some of the old things?” Darmen asked.

“I like the old movies. You know, like the olden days.”

“Bill and Ted—”

“No, not that crap! The real ones like”—she scanned her memory—“
The Godfather
and
Ben-Hur.”

“The Archives have screenings of all the good ones.”

“I watched part of
African Queen
yesterday.” She had so wanted to know how that one ended. “I like them in their disc format.”

“You mean on DVD?”

“That’s the one. It’s much better than the hologram copies. Sometimes I just want to be an outsider looking in, so I can get lost in the story and characters and not get distracted by the technology.”

“Ahhh, a woman after my own heart.” Darmen smiled. “But they allow you to go to these screenings? You must have an understanding boss.”

Shit.
She had missed that. “I work nights.”

“Then maybe you should be home asleep.” He looked at his chronometer. “If you hurry, you could still get a few hours’ rest.”

Tarris had to admit that the morning’s meeting had taken its toll on her. Besides the emotional upheaval, the body suit began to annoy her. “Maybe you’re right. I better go.” She took a step toward the entrance. “About dinner…”

“Go on. We can do this some other time.” He gave her a wink. “Rest well, my friend.”

“Until next time, Darmen.” She was about to walk away when he stopped her.

“Oh, by the way. Have you tried the scanner yet?”

“I’m sorry, no. I’ve been really busy.” That sounded hollow, especially after mentioning her visit to the Archives yesterday. “I will, I promise.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear. When you get around to it.” He waved her off with his hand before he returned his attention to the small screen he had been studying when she arrived.

*   *   *

Tarris resorted to a medicated sleep when she finally settled on her bed. She was exhausted and needed some downtime.

The room swam with phantoms, swooping and diving at her in an attempt to get to her. They had changed to floating phantasms to negotiate the obstacles. Rya would protect her friend for as long as Tarris’s mental strength held out.

This was her moment of truth. The unit had turned on her, and she was on her own. Tarris was strong, but was she strong enough to defeat them all? The group split to approach from opposite sides to force their leader to choose.

Tarris was cornered, trapped in a body that wouldn’t do her bidding. Malevolent forces circled ominously, and her only defenses were her soul and her courage. Rya enveloped her and lifted her broken body with ease.

A light suddenly appeared in the room and seemed to be the only avenue open to her. Rya stepped toward the light even though it would “blind” her. She placed Tarris down carefully before her form dissolved away to nothingness. Rya had been blinded, and now Tarris was completely helpless…

“Arrloovarite?”

“Huh?” The word didn’t make sense.

“Are… you… all right?” The words were enunciated crisply, and their meaning now understood, but Tarris didn’t pay heed to them. She was struck by the beautiful woman hovering over her. Those eyes—rich sapphires that glistened in the harsh light— burrowed into her like twin needles. She could feel the pain, but she couldn’t turn away.

“Errr… yeah. I suppose. Where am I?”

“Home… you are home.” The voice was low and seductive, uttered by a woman Tarris estimated to be in her mid to late thirties. Short, black locks framed her oval face, the ragged fringe touching the dark elegant eyebrows. She took Tarris’s breath away.

Tarris woke up drenched in sweat. What did it all mean? This was her second such dream. Was it a portent or wishful thinking? Her hand crossed her brow. Life was too much today, and so she sought solace in sleep as the drug flowed through her tired body.

Some hours later, the sedative wore off and left her with that familiar lethargy “hangover,” She rubbed her face with her hands. What was she going to do for two weeks? Lying around looking at the ceiling was a recipe for weight gain.

She suspected she would be a frequent visitor to the Archives and the park, both of which gave her much pleasure, but she couldn’t spend two solid weeks there. Even that was a waste for her enforced holiday. No, she would save those delights as rewards for accomplishing something more mundane. But the unit was her life. Nothing else existed for her. No hobbies, no distractions… no partner. She was alone. She had no one to blame but herself for her enforced celibacy, but she wasn’t going to be pitied for the sake of a little companionship. Rule Seven in her handbook was one she steadfastly stuck to.

Rule Seven in her Survival Handbook: Never start anything you can’t finish.

She rose slowly from the bed. Some days her patience was tested by the slow, deliberate nature of her home aids. This was one of those days. She moved the wheelchair quietly across the carpet to her computer and booted it up. She tried to remember the article she had read the other night. It had been put off while her attention had been focused on her work. Now that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was the ideal opportunity to follow up on it without the distraction of her profession to interrupt her.

Tarris wheeled over to the far corner and withdrew her Silencer for the conversation to come. She had to know, but the few intervening days to see the practitioner were going to be unbearable. “Hello?” a voice said. The screen was blank but the computer confirmed the connection.

“Hello? Who is this?” The voice was low and hypnotic and triggered a response in Tarris.

“This is Tarris Waite. I called you the other night and left a message. Is there something wrong with your monitor?”

“I’m sorry, the screen has shorted out. How can I help you?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I was interested in your work on nerve regeneration.”

“Are you from the Council?” Tarris could hear the suspicion in the tantalizing voice.

“No. I’m a private citizen.”

“How did you get hold of my paper then? As far as I’m aware, such research is not available to the common citizen.”

“I have a friend or two in high places,” Tarris said.

“But you said you weren’t from the Council.”

“And I’m not. Why is it so important that I’m not from the Council?”

“I usually don’t discuss my work with anybody. I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”

“Please! Please, wait. Can we meet? Just once?”

“Why should I?”

“Because…” How much should she reveal to a perfect stranger? Normally she would reveal nothing, even to close acquaintances, but her life was dependent on this conversation. “Because I’m in need of your treatment.”

“And you are a mediprac, are you?” The voice was openly hostile. Tarris could see that this woman jealously guarded her privacy nearly as much as she did.

“No, but I’ve seen enough of them to know I need one.” She bit back an acerbic remark. She couldn’t afford to alienate the one person who might be able to do something for her.

“And you think I’m the one who will help you, do you?”

“I would have thought you would leap at the opportunity to try out your theories on a live donor.” Tarris was getting seriously pissed off at the woman.

“I will when I’m ready, not because you’re in a hurry to be healed.” Annoyance laced the words.

“Why are you being so hostile?” All thought of supplication to get what she wanted was washed away by the negative words coming from the blank screen.

“I don’t like people sticking their noses into my business. I’m a private person, and I like to keep it that way. Goodbye.”

Stunned, Tarris stared at the screen. She had a mind to report the mediprac to her governing body for such rudeness and refusal to help. Didn’t these practitioners have some sort of obligation to help other people?

The screen on her wall erupted with the news of the botched assignment.

“… here is a statement by the Prime concerning the rebel attack on the home of the Opposition Leader.”

The announcement made Tarris sit up. She ignored her computer for the news. The familiar face of the Roden Sholter filled the large screen.

“Citizens. Last night the home of Opposition Leader Regis was brutally attacked by the cowardly forces of the resistance. While Administrator Regis and his family escaped unharmed, a number of his staff were murdered while defending his property.” The old man paused. He turned his head from side to side as if he were addressing a rally. “This has forced the Council to enforce a curfew from sundown to sunup. Protectors will be stationed around the metropolis for the safety of the citizens.”

Tarris’s mouth fell open. It was all a setup. They were deliberately sent on a mission that was bound to fail from the very beginning. It was an excuse to establish martial law. She felt betrayed. She had given them everything, and they used her. “Protectors… pah!” It was a fancy word for soldiers.

The Prime continued his political rhetoric, but she paid it no heed. She had heard enough. Her belief in the government had been severely shaken, and it left her empty. No one had ever used her like that before. She wasn’t naïve or stupid. After all, she had to put up with jerks like Corman for most of her life, but to actively use her loyalty and expertise to undermine the very fabric of society… that was unforgivable.

The wheelchair was too slow for what she wanted to do, so she exchanged it for her body frame. Once it had settled in place, she left to walk the streets. Her anger pushed her on to look for something, someone to ease the turmoil within her. Without conscious purpose, her rambling delivered her to an address that she had only just discovered. She looked up at the low-rise building and knew the person she wanted to see was inside. After all she had just spoken to her. Maybe if she saw the woman face-to-face it would help. If not, then she would just slug the woman in the jaw to ease her frustration.

Her visit to the mediprac was just plain reckless, but she didn’t care. Why couldn’t common sense override her anger? Tarris knew she was being watched, so visiting this scientist was going to put them both in danger. Suspicion and paranoia ruled the metropolis these days, and anything out of the ordinary like this visit would be interpreted as a dangerous move.