Variant

by T. C. Edge

It was purely a decoy at this point. I wanted to take advantage of the ensuing confusion, and didn't delay in the act.

  Pacing speedily and yet as silently as I could, using other techniques learned from Ford, I began flanking the men as they ducked down out of sight. By the time they looked up again, and began firing at my previous position, I was already gone.

  I moved around them now, darting like lightning, getting as far behind their backs as I could before they realised I wasn't there. By the time they did I'd already closed in, hunting like a wolf in a pack, ready to pounce from my latest hiding place and take down my first man.

  I zipped in close to him, noting that the second custodian was a dozen metres away. He'd realised I hadn't been firing back by now, and was carefully closing in on my original position. The other stayed back a second. I took my chance.

  Leaping towards him, I thrust hard with my knife into the back of his shoulder. It wasn't a shot to kill, but to immobilise, my advanced speed, and the power it brought, allowing me to cut right through the outer armour and a little into his flesh beneath.

  He let out a bellow, drawing the other's attention. I immediately pulled the little trigger, built into the handle of the knife, sending an electrical charge right through it and into his flesh. The result was immediate, the charge temporarily paralysing him as he slumped to the floor.

  My eyes dashed to my final opponent, as he raised his gun to fire. I darted left as he shot, then right to confuse him. Ford had told me how Reapers were trained to evade gunfire, and he'd been doing the same with me. Most people in battle instinctively fell into certain patterns of fire that, if you knew about them, you could evade with high levels of success. The custodians were well trained, but weren't intended to fight those with expert instruction and enhanced speed. That was the job of the Reapers. This man, well trained or not, was in over his head.

  I zigzagged, and ducked, and was on him in a flash. Using yet another of Ford's moves, I dropped low to the floor and fell into a slide on the stone, speeding quickly behind him and taking out his legs. His body tumbled, hitting hard, as his gun bounced out of his hands. I lifted my blade again and stabbed, hard, into his thigh. Again, I punctured the armour and a little of his flesh, though not enough to cause serious harm.

  His strange, modulated bellow of pain didn't last long, as I pulled the trigger again and unleashed a charge. His body shuddered for a second, before his head tipped back and to the side, falling unconscious.

  I let out a breath.

  It felt like the first in a while.

  It had all happened so fast. From the moment they entered until now, perhaps a minute and a half had passed. It was a rush, both of time and adrenaline. I stood to my feet in the ensuing silence.

  And that's when I heard the clapping.

  23

  I turned my eyes up to the gallery above, to find Ford standing at the railing of the second floor. His hands were clapping loudly; his lips were in a smile. I stared back at him and his words echoed in my head.

  Expect the unexpected.

  This was another test.

  "Good show, Paige," he said, his voice filling the space. "Very efficient. You used a number of moves and tactics I taught you. Well done."

  I could feel my blood boiling in my veins. "You...you lured them here?" I growled. "That's why you were checking the cameras all night. That's why you just disappeared. You saw them and led them right to me."

  "I was interested to see how you'd perform," he said.

  "And...now what!" I called out loudly, flashing my eyes on the men, scattered across the foyer floor. With the adrenaline fading it was all starting to dawn on me. "They've seen my face. They know who I am. You've screwed me, and for what? How can I go back to my life now? How can I..."

  "I thought you hated your life?"

  He began moving slowly across the gallery, before leaping over the top and dropping down into the foyer below. He landed almost silently and with such grace, falling into a crouch before standing back up.

  "I...I do hate my life," I said to him bitterly. "But, I can't leave it, you know that! What about mum and Becca?"

  "What about them? They hate their lives too, do they not? I'm sure Becca would love to leave her job at the warehouse, and come join us underground."

  "Becca doesn't know what she wants," I huffed. "One day of running and hiding, and she'd want to scurry right back home again."

  "And your mother?"

  I shook my head. "She was with the VLA once and would never go back. She's terrified I'm going to die like my father."

  Ford nodded slowly, as he stepped calmly towards me. His eyes turned, one by one, to the custodians lying unconscious on the floor. "Then what are you going to do?"

  His question was loaded with a suggestion that I didn't want to face. He raised his eyes, turning quite cold. I responded by looking at the custodians, faceless men behind those masks. I had no idea who they were.

  Fathers. Husbands. Sons. They had lives of their own.

  They didn't deserve to die.

  "I...I can't," I said. "I can't do that."

  "Do what?" he asked. "I haven't said anything."

  "It's clear enough," I snapped, looking at him. "This is your fault, Ford. You've forced me into this."

  "And I'll be happy to take care of it, if I must."

  I went still a moment, looking at him. The way he spoke about taking life was jarring. He had such humour and energy at times, such a jubilant way to him. And yet, there was this darkness too, this cold void. I looked at him and wondered how many people he'd killed over the years. How old he was when he took his first life. How many of them actually deserved it, and how many were just in his way.

  "They are masks, Paige," he said. "That's all. That's how you must look a them. Masks. Not people."

  I looked at the nearest custodian, lying near our feet. I wanted to step over and draw back his visor, reveal his face, see who he was. Like everyone else, I hated the custodians most of the time, hated them for how they behaved and what they did.

  But, weren't they just another part of the system, another function of this world? They were assigned their duty, and had no choice but to follow it. It was hard to judge them for that. Hard to hate them for being tools of the state.

  "It is a difficult decision, isn't it?" Ford asked. "But, doesn't this just prove it?"

  I looked up at him with a frown. "Prove what?"

  "That you're not yet ready to fight. You're not yet ready to kill."

  "Kill unconscious, defenceless men?" I asked. "I don't think I'll ever be ready for that."

  "Even if it will protect you, and those you love? Will you not kill these men to make sure that your mother, and Becca, are safe?"

  Their faces bloomed in my mind. Would they ever agree to go into hiding? Becca would, but would my mother? Would she accept her fate, let herself get taken in. Would she suffer the terrible repercussions of my mistakes?

  Hadn't she been through enough?

  "This isn't..." I shook my head, my voice weakening. "It isn't what I signed up for, Ford. I am ready to kill...I think...but not men like this. They are just tools. They aren't like Mantis. They don't destroy lives for fun or personal gain. They only do what they do because they have to. Because it's their function."

  "And yet you would kill a Reaper? Aren't they just performing a function too?"

  "That's different and you know it. Their function is to hunt us down and kill us. We have to fight back. It's kill or be killed with them."

  He nodded again. "True. But the question is, where do you draw the line? You were going to kill the snitch, Walter, weren't you? If I hadn't got there first, he may have been your first kill."

  "I..." I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't know what I would have done."

  "But you believe his death was justified?"

  I nodded. "He sold out Variants. He may not have killed them, but he caused their deaths."

  "And how do you know he wasn't be
ing coerced?" Ford asked me. "How do you know he wasn't being forced to do this by Mantis? Perhaps he only did it because he had to. The custodians have led to the destruction of countless lives by performing their function. Might it not have been the same case with Walter?"

  "I...I don't know. Maybe."

  "And if he was being coerced, did he deserve to die?"

  I drew a breath, pondering it for a moment. "I guess not," I said eventually. "People can't be blamed for what they can't control. There needs to be an element of free will in it, to make someone worthy of punishment. Either that, or you need to be in a fight for your life, like with the Reapers. That's how I draw the line."

  "OK, that makes sense," Ford said, slowly beginning to pace. "So, if these custodians had been attacking you with live fire, trying to kill you, you'd have fought back with the same force?"

  I thought about it for a second, and then nodded. "Yes, I would."

  "But, now that you've defeated them without causing them any lasting harm, you cannot go through with it?"

  "No," I said, standing by my conviction.

  "Even if it would be ruinous for your own life and those you care for? You will let them wake up and walk out out of here?"

  I drew another breath, growing slightly exasperated. "I...yes, I will. I'm not going to kill defenceless men."

  "And what if we woke them up? What if we woke them up and engaged them in a fight? Would you kill them then?"

  I frowned. "No, that would be cheating. Who would do that?"

  "Well, no one, but it's an interesting moral debate, isn't it? Where we draw the line. What we are willing to do under one set of circumstances, but not willing to do under another. Even if it all comes down to the same thing in the end."

  He continued pacing, back and forth, turning his eyes occasionally to the custodians littering the foyer. He was beginning to loosen up now, that callous expression warming. He stopped in his pacing and looked at me directly.

  "And having me here?" he asked. "How does that change things? What if I wasn't here? What then?"

  "What do you mean, what then? What's the difference?"

  "A very big one," he said. "You know me, and my past. You are probably assuming I've killed dozens, maybe even hundreds of people in my time. Reapers. Gangland soldiers in the Bends. Snitches. Custodians. You look at me and see your free ticket. My mere presence affects your judgement and moral position. Because to you, I am a killer. And if you don't take action, you know that I will. That I'll do it to protect you. I'll do it because I must."

  His words settled in my head, and I realised that he was right. I didn't have to decide anything here, because whether I actively thought it or not, subconsciously, I knew that Ford would do what I couldn't. That he'd kill these men, if he had to, to ensure that my anonymity remained intact.

  Didn't that corrupt my moral judgement? Didn't it make my entire moral position invalid?

  "So," Ford went on, interrupting the brief silence, "where does that leave us now? You have made your position clear, and will not kill these men. But, given my supposed history, you will let me do it for you. Is that not merely passing the burden on? Doesn't that make you similar, in a way, to Walter. He didn't kill those Variants, but he was complicit in the act. Now, you may not kill these men, but you will be complicit in their deaths if you leave it to me to do so."

  I looked at him, and he raised a pleasant smile, an expression quite at odds with the topic under discussion.

  "So, now we have to ask," he continued briskly, "whether you will have to kill these men merely to spare me the burden. I may be a killer, but that doesn't make taking life easy, especially in such circumstances. Will you force me to do so? Or will you shift in your thinking, and take the responsibility upon yourself?"

  Again, he posed difficult moral questions that I was struggling to answer. I thought about it for a moment, before giving my response.

  "This isn't my burden," I said to him. "You drew these men here on purpose, merely to test me. I suppose that this is also a test. A test to see where I stand on this, whether I'm prepared to kill or not, even in these trying conditions. In the end, you have contrived to create this situation, and the burden is on you to resolve it."

  "But that's not what you want?" he asked, looking carefully at me. "You would still prefer that I spare these men. You don't believe they warrant such a sentence."

  "I don't know, and that's the problem. They might be some of the more vile custodians who seek to destroy lives for fun. They might be cruel and callous and inhumane. Or, maybe one is, and the other two aren't. Maybe two are and one is not. Or maybe they're all decent men just forced to do a job." I looked at Ford straight. "I don't know, so I can't pass judgement like that. And I would never expect you to either."

  Slowly, Ford's lips formed into smile. He began nodding as he looked at me. "Then, I won't," he said.

  I frowned.

  "You seem surprised?" he asked.

  "Um, well..." A dart of doubt struck at me all of a sudden, making me question my entire position for a moment. This made it all real, didn't it? This meant I had no choice now but to retreat underground, and take Becca and my mother with me, by force if necessary.

  "This may come as a shock, Paige," came Ford's voice again, smoothly filling the hall, "but I don't tend to kill defenceless men either. Killing in cold blood doesn't rest easy on the soul. Every person I have killed, I have done so for a reason. Either it was due, or I was defending myself or someone else and couldn't avoid it. I do not murder unconscious men."

  And then it dawned on me. "So, you did this on purpose?" I asked, partly whispering the words. "To force me to abandon my life? To force me underground for good?"

  His smile broadened and came with a light chuckle. "Oh, no, I'm not quite so manipulative as that. This was a test, Paige. A test of your combat skills. A test of your decision making. And, now, a test of your morality." He looked towards the men. "None of them will be dying today. And your life won't be changing quite yet either. As you know I like to say...don't worry." He winked at me. "Everything's going to be fine."

  I stood my ground, watching in confusion as he drew a small device from his pocket and walked over to one of the custodians, lying in a heap across the hall. He knelt down and seemed to press against his neck with the narrow, pen-like device. A moment later, the man came around, jolting upright as Ford knelt before him.

  "Steady there, Bates, take it slow. You know the drill."

  The man called Bates stood, still a little unsteady on his feet. He shook the cobwebs from his head and drew back the visor on his mask, revealing his rugged face.

  "That girl...she packs a real punch, Fordy," he grunted. "Jeez. Where'd you find her anyway?" He looked up over to me, then performed some sort of jovial, military salute. "No harm, no foul, darlin'. You got me good, I'll give you that."

  I stood, my mouth partially agape, as Ford moved over and woke up the other two men. Within a few moments, all three of them were back on their feet with their visors up, or helmets completely off, displaying the fact that they were, quite clearly, not real custodians.

  Ford slipped back over to me with a crafty smile. "Sorry for the ruse, Paige. I did tell you to expect the unexpected down here."

  As I had been with him before, I felt someway between indignant, amused, impressed, and downright furious at what he'd done. It was a cocktail of emotions that I found hard to express at once. In the end, I had to accept that this was his way, and though a method I didn't much enjoy, one that was quite effective. I had, after all, learned plenty about myself that night.

  "You're not happy with me, that's clear enough," Ford went on, "but I think we made good progress this evening. It may not have been real, but you thought it was, and you'll never find a more effective simulation than that."

  I remained silent for a moment, looking over at the false custodians. The other two men were called Peaky, and Fudge. All of them sounded like street names to me.

&n
bsp; "Who are they?" I asked quietly, as the three men conversed and chuckled to one side. "They're with the VLA?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Ford said. "They're contacts of mine. They operate around the Bends."

  "Gang members?" I asked.

  "No, I wouldn't say that. They don't belong to any of the main gangs, anyway. They're wheelers and dealers, you know, odd-job men. They're always up for earning a few more credits, right lads?" he called out.

  The men wandered a little closer. "Yes my Lordship, always happy to be of service," said Fudge. He was the largest of the men. The reason for his name escaped me. "Though I'd say we deserve a little more than you promised tonight." He reached to his right shoulder, bleeding through the armour. "That's gonna need medical treatment. Don't come free you know."

  "Yeah, me too," said Peaky, his voice a little more squeaky, pointing to his thigh. He was limping a bit, though didn't seem in great distress. "You owe us, boss."

  Ford shrugged, looking at their wounds. "Hazard pay," he nodded. "I guess that's reasonable. I'll swing by Maggie's tomorrow, all right? Pay you then. Just be there around midday."

  "Fine. And we want double, right boys?" It was Fudge again, looking to the others.

  Ford raised his eyes. "Don't push it now, Fudge. I'll agree to one and a half, and you should think yourself lucky for it." He looked at them, one by one. "Sound fair?"

  The trio briefly conferred. They had a comical manner about them, so far removed from the three intimidating custodians they'd been portraying. It just went to show that anyone could be behind those masks.

  "Fine," agreed Fudge. "One and a half."

  "Good. Now get yourself out of those outfits and stash them back where I left them for you. And this girl," Ford added, turning to me. "You never saw her, all right. She is a ghost. Understand?"

  They nodded. "Sure, boss. Whatever your Lordship wants."

  The three men turned and headed away at that, though were kind enough to smile at me before departing. I remained slightly dumbfounded by the entire experience, trying to get my head around it.

  "They're a funny bunch," Ford said, watching them head off through the main doors. "Good guys who do some slightly disreputable things. Like a lot of people in the Bends. It's not easy getting by over there."