by C. A. Gray
Jaguar’s wing was eerily empty. Senior slowed his rapid pace, but the click-clack of his shoes on the polished tile floor echoed much too loudly, announcing our approach. He stopped before an open door, and took a deep breath.
“Well? Are you coming in, or aren’t you, Jeremy Runquist?” called a musical voice from inside.
Jeremy Runquist was apparently the engineer whose identity Senior had used to grant us access. It was clear that the speaker knew we weren’t him.
In response, Senior took a step forward, pulling me with him. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Jaguar’s room looked like the bedroom of a teenage vampire. Everything was in red, from the rug to the mosaic walls to every little knickknack and decoration. A girl with light brown hair who looked about my own age stood in the center of the room, watching us. She wore a red silk gown that accentuated her curves, as if she were about to go to a fancy dress ball. She might have been beautiful, if not for her posture and expression. Her arms hung at her sides as she stared us down, her red lips curled in a terrifying smile.
“Let me guess,” she chirped. “You’re here to destroy me.”
Chapter 40: Liam
We needed to get to the Munitions Research Complex, on the other side of the General Specs Park. I’d actually been there only a few times in my time as Head of Operations at General Specs, and every time I’d done so, I’d had to take an internal shuttle which required high security clearance. The building where Francis and I had entered was a short jog away from the shuttle. Fortunately, there was almost nobody around to question what we were doing here, or why we were headed to Munitions in such a hurry.
I knew we wouldn’t be quite so fortunate when we arrived, though. I’d stolen Anita Mercer’s security clearance to access the shuttle, but the night crews would have already been working in Munitions when Dad revoked their clearance. If they left the property, they couldn’t reenter, but at least a skeleton crew would already be inside.
“So what do we do if this Dillon person isn’t our first point of contact?” Francis muttered, once inside the hover shuttle. Dillon Thompson worked in Munitions, and Dad told us that he was “on our side.” “He was close to a coworker Jaguar sent to Exmorton,” Dad had said, “and he’s been trying to find a way to destroy her ever since. Trust me. He’ll want to help you.”
I shrugged, and gave him a lopsided grin. “Improvise?”
When the hover shuttle landed and the doors opened, revealing a loading ramp, three men stood around us, guns drawn.
“Who are you?” demanded the one closest, a 20-something man with a scruffy beard. “You’re definitely not Anita!”
“Don’t shoot!” I cried, thrusting my hands in the air. “We’re friends. I promise.”
“Which one of you is Dillon?” Francis demanded.
The three men exchanged a mistrustful look with one another, as if trying to decide whether or not to answer.
“You tell us who you are first,” said a middle aged man in black cargo pants, eying us both. “We know General Specs is under attack. How do we know you’re not the culprits?”
Francis glanced at me, and cleared his throat, stepping forward. “We represent the new CEO, and he sent us here precisely because of the attack. He suspects that the terrorist Renegades are behind it. They’re after the AMDr, and the detonators.”
The middle aged man’s mouth fell open, and he exchanged a horrified look with his younger colleagues. “I told you! I told you it was them! I told you they wanted our weapons!”
Catching Francis’s drift, I added, “Demara sent us to remove the detonators from munitions, where the Renegades are sure to look for them first, to the AMDr complex. That way a specialized security team can keep watch on both at once.” Demara was the newly appointed CEO, I knew. Also, one of the most arrogant creeps I’d ever met. Never liked that guy.
Cargo Pants gestured from Francis to me, eyes narrowed. He made air quotes as he asked, “‘Specialized security team?’”
Francis snorted, and glanced at me, gesturing to the three workers with his head. “Show ‘em your muscle, bro. Go on.”
I blinked at him, first caught off guard by the ‘bro’ title, and a little taken aback by the order. What was I supposed to do, rip off my shirt?
Seeing my hesitation, Francis explained for me, “We’re both enhanced. He’s brawn, I’m brains.”
I thought of many replies to this, but now was not the time.
“We don’t want to stand in Demara’s way, do we?” hissed the 20-something worker to the others.
“It’s not Demara we have to worry about. It’s the Renegades,” snapped Cargo Pants. “I don’t want to be here if they come looking for the detonators, do you?” With that rhetorical statement, he stepped aside. The others did the same.
“One more thing,” I called as we passed, “Where’s Dillon Thompson? Demara told us to find him.”
The 20-something pointed down a long corridor. “He worked night shift, so he’s leaving soon, but first door on your left.”
“He’s not leaving until he helps us,” I said darkly, squaring my shoulders as I stepped into the ‘brawn’ character Francis had just assigned me. “Demara’s orders.”
With that, we took off down the corridor at a brisk clip. Once the three workers were out of earshot, I whispered, “You’re calling me ‘bro’ now?”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” he hissed back. “It was more like slang. ‘Hey bro, what’s up, bro…’” he gesticulated with his hands like an overdramatic gangster.
“Never do that again,” I told him.
We found the door bearing Thompson’s name on a plaque, and Francis knocked. A wary-looking beanpole of a man opened the door, appraising Francis rapidly before his eyes tracked to me. He did a double-take, and frowned.
“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
I decided to be honest—we didn’t have time to waste. “Yes, on the news, though last time I was dressed as a Simvi Shah, and I didn’t have the nose.”
He blinked, and his mouth fell open, his eyes tracking across my face. I knew he was trying to envision what I looked like underneath the prosthetics. “Are you saying…”
“My dad sent me to you,” I told him. I let that sink in, and at once I saw his eyes widen and his features soften with an expression I could only describe as hope.
“He’s alive?”
I glanced at Francis and nodded. “For now. He said you wanted what we want. He said you’d help us.”
Thompson set his jaw. “What do you need?”
Chapter 41: Rebecca
“We’re not here to destroy you,” I lied to Jaguar, holding up my hands in the universal sign of peace. “We just want to understand you.”
Jaguar narrowed her eyes at me, and then glanced at Senior. “Of course you’re here to destroy me. You’re with him,” she spat. “He hates me! He regrets that he ever made me!”
“I don’t hate you,” Senior protested. “I’m—afraid of you.”
I cast a glance of surprise in his direction, but knew in flash that he’d been right to be honest.
Jaguar’s crimson lips curled into a bitter smile. “You’re afraid? You’re afraid?” She let out an almost manic peal of laughter, and I could see her hands shaking. She’d all but forgotten my presence as she jabbed a finger at him. “Was it you? Did you sabotage me? Or were you and Halpert in on it together?”
“Halpert had nothing to do with this,” Senior said calmly.
“So it was all you?” she demanded. I willed myself not to look at the vent, where I knew Rick waited for Jaguar to come in range. But she would not advance. She stayed rooted in place, trembling.
“I did… everything… you ever wanted,” Jaguar croaked. “And it’s not good enough. It’s never good enough!”
“You are good enough,” said Senior, darting a quick look at me, “you’ve far surpassed my wildest expectati
ons, Jaguar.” I gave him a tiny nod of encouragement.
“Why is she here?” Jaguar spat, still looking at Senior when she said it.
“This is Rebecca,” said Senior, very slowly opening a palm in my direction, as he crept closer to the threshold of the red room. “She’s a friend.”
“I know who she is! And you are not allowed in my room! Stay out of my room!” Jaguar shrieked, stamping her foot.
“Okay!” Senior froze, raising both hands. “Okay. We’re not coming any closer.”
“You’re here to hurt me!”
“We’re not!” Senior lied. “We’re just here to talk with you.”
Jaguar’s wild eyes darted from Senior to me. She looked like a cornered animal. At last, unable to control herself anymore, she grabbed her light brown hair with both fists and let out a scream of fury. Senior and I looked at each other in alarm in the brief second her eyes were closed, and I understood.
I’m up.
“You seem to really like red,” I said. Jaguar opened her eyes and glared at me, mistrustful. I pressed, “Why red?”
“What do you care?” she spat.
“Like we said, we want to understand you.”
“Why? So you can use it against me? So you can destroy me? Why does everybody want to destroy me?” She whined the last question as she twirled around in her elegant gown, clouds of red silk flaring around her as she plopped on her red upholstered couch. Then she folded both arms across her chest with a dramatic huff, hot tears leaking on to her cheeks.
“What do you mean?” I asked, still lingering at the threshold of the room, not daring to put a toe inside until invited. “Who wants to destroy you?”
“Everybody! I don’t know who!” Her lower lip trembled, and she looked away. Then she jabbed a finger in Senior’s direction again. “You faked your death, just so you could get away from me!”
“That’s not true,” he said at once.
“It is true! You think I’m a monster!”
Senior wisely took his time in answering that one. At last, he said, “I told you, I’m afraid of you. So are a lot of people.” He glanced at me, widening his eyes as if to say, Do something!
“Jaguar?” I ventured. “Do you think you might have given your father reason to fear you?” I could feel Senior’s eyes boring into me, at my casual use of the title father. But Jaguar didn’t bat an eye.
Jaguar shrugged, and after a reluctant pause, muttered, “Maybe. But I wouldn’t have hurt him!”
“Why not?”
Her eyes went soft and moist again, and tears leaked out from the corners of her lashes. She didn’t look at either one of us. “Because!”
I shot Senior a pointed look, and ventured, “Because all you ever wanted was for him to be proud of you?”
Jaguar did not respond to this, but sat looking at the red tiled floor, her lower lip trembling. I glared at Senior now, silently shouting at him, Speak up! Now or never!
He cleared his throat, and opened his mouth. But before he could speak, Jaguar sank her elbows onto her knees, and her head into her hands. “I just don’t understand!” she wailed, “I did everything you wanted. I know how to integrate Quantum and Newtonian physics now. I figured it out! I solved Polansky’s problem of how to modify humans so they can survive in space. Clean water and food all over the world? Easy! Mind uploading for human immortality? Done! What more do you want from me?”
I moved on instinct then, drawn to her pain as I crossed the threshold of Jaguar’s room. Before I even knew what I was doing, I sat beside her on the red upholstered couch, and put an arm around her. She stiffened, and I felt a stab of fear, my eyes tracking involuntarily to the vent. I saw the barrel of the gun, but Rick couldn’t possibly hit her from that angle—I needed to get her to the center of the room. But then—impossibly—Jaguar turned and wrapped her arms around me too, sobbing on my shoulder.
My eyes widened at Senior as she cried, and he stared back at me, white as a sheet, his breathing shallow and rapid.
But then, Jaguar abruptly stopped crying, and pried herself off of me, her eyes fixed on some third party location.
“Three men are running away from the AMDr tower. Why?” she asked, too calmly.
I forgot to breathe. I dared not look at Senior, let alone at the barrel of Rick’s gun. Jaguar turned her head to me, very slowly. “Why. Are. They. Running?” she asked again, emphasizing every word.
Boom.
We both heard and saw the explosion through the window: a giant fireball rolled upward toward the sky. Even though we were still on solid ground, all three of us raised an arm up to our heads on instinct. Jaguar caught her breath, looked at me, and then her eyes tracked straight to the vent—and the protruding barrel of Rick’s gun.
Everything happened fast after that. I screamed as she grabbed me by the shirt, yanking me in front of her and holding me by the throat as a human shield. I could feel Jaguar’s breath on my ear as she clenched me so tightly I choked. Rick kicked the grate out of the vent and swung himself to the ground, leveling the gun at Jaguar directly. Footsteps pounded in the hall, and Liam appeared at his father’s side. Both of them also pulled out weapons and trained them at Jaguar, who held me all the tighter. She cranked my neck almost to the breaking point. I cried out in pain.
“Shoot me and she dies,” Jaguar said to all three of them, very calmly. “I’ve placed exactly the right torque on her neck, such that it will break with my weight, as I fall.”
“Put your guns down!” Liam cried, raising his own hands in the air and dropping his gun. Senior glanced at him uncertainly and did as he was told, but Rick kept his trained on Jaguar’s eyes.
“Rick!” snapped Liam, as another set of footsteps pounded toward us. Francis appeared in the doorframe next, lunging toward Jaguar and me.
Senior shouted, “Brian, stop!”
Francis froze and glanced at Senior, no doubt stunned at the name.
I couldn’t see her, but I could feel Jaguar turn to Francis, then back to Senior as she assessed the situation. Then she began to laugh—a cruel sound, much sharper than anything I’d heard come out of her mouth so far.
“You think he’s your long lost son? Oh, that’s precious. You thought this was a family reunion!” She yanked me to cover her just a bit more, and I cried out in pain.
Senior and Francis exchanged a look, and Senior said warily, “What do you mean?”
“Brian Kelly is dead,” Jaguar purred.
“That’s a lie,” Francis snapped. “I am Brian. I have to be!”
“You are a nobody,” Jaguar informed him. “Just some freakishly smart orphaned kid that the government decided to surgically alter, to see if they could make humans more like them. It was so much cheaper and more efficient than building more humanoid bots, you see. And there you were, alone and unprotected. Nobody there to protest your abduction. Nobody to cry, if you died on the table.”
“My memories and my disappearance coincide with Brian Kelly’s exactly!” Francis shouted.
Senior’s face contorted with suppressed emotion. I could feel Jaguar’s enjoyment of it, even as she still addressed Francis. “You happened to be in the same cohort of test subjects as Brian Kelly, that much is true. That particular surgery also digitized subconscious childhood memories and mannerisms in the process of reprogramming cohort members with false histories upon their release. But some of those memories and mannerisms got swapped on accident. The Silver Six released all of those subjects into San Jose where they could keep an eye on them after the fact. So you were in the same city as Brian—and you might have ended up with a few of his characteristics, as well as those of the rest of the cohort. And they with yours, as well. But it was a coincidence; that was all.”
“Oh, right. And it was also a coincidence that Brian Kelly just happened to vanish from the grid, at exactly the same time that I fled from Halpert?” Francis raged.
“That wasn’t a coincidence,”
Jaguar corrected smoothly. “Brian Kelly didn’t do nearly as well with the surgery as you did. He was never the same: constantly sickly, and almost lobotomized. He could no longer be considered a functioning member of society, and spent most of the last five years in and out of homeless shelters and sleeping under bridges. He was beneath the notice of the Silver Six—until Halpert realized Liam Junior was a traitor. Halpert speculated that if Liam were to find out about Brian, he’d use him as leverage to sway his father to join the Renegades. They couldn’t have that—and Brian had outlived his usefulness anyway. So they had him murdered, within hours of your flight to Geneva. That’s why you disappeared from the grid at the same time.”
I wasn’t sure how much Liam was even listening to all of this; he kept looking from Jaguar to me in desperation, probably trying to figure out how to pry me free.
“You want to know how I know?” Jaguar went on cheerfully, now turning to Liam, but still speaking to Senior. “After your other son paid me a visit, I wanted to know a little more about my family tree. I sorted through camera archives of the Renegades, paying special attention to everyone close to him. Like her!” She tightened her grip on me again, and I cried out in pain.
“I’m the one you hate!” Liam begged. “You want to take my place? You want to be the only child my dad has left? Fine! Take me, then. But let Rebecca go!”
“No!” Jaguar shrieked, all pretense of calm gone now. “She tried to betray me! She deserves to die!”
Suddenly, Senior bellowed, “Jaguar, I’m proud of you!”
Jaguar froze, and turned to face him. There was a long, crackling pause. Then she whispered, “What did you say?”
Senior blinked, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t be able to get it out a second time. At last, he croaked, “I said, I’m proud of you.” When she still didn’t move, he took a step forward, and went on, “You’re… my crowning achievement. It’s every parent’s dream that their children will surpass them. You’ve surpassed not only me, but every being on the planet!”
