Analog SFF, October 2008

by Dell Magazine Authors

  Helena looked down the road, and Carrie realized she was making sure Jacob was still well away from them. “I haven't even told my mother everything.”

  “We don't want Vicari to keep doing this. He's assaulted other women, left them empty shells with no personality. He could have killed you.”

  Helena rubbed her eyes, as if trying to wipe away an image too terrible to look upon. “Like I said—it's as if I was paralyzed. There's something he did. Something I've had a hard time understanding.”

  Carrie waited. Helena looked around her, as if someone might sneak up on them to eavesdrop. “He stole an emotion from me. I'm a Christian woman. I'm expected to think kindly of everyone, even those who have sinned. But I can't anymore, not for someone like Malcolm Vicari.”

  “Because of the way he treated you.”

  “No, it's what he did with that ... what is it, nanna-stuff?”

  “Nanotech.”

  “Yes, that. He stole that feeling from me, took it for himself. He was looking for something else. Something to do with, you know, sex. Or just, whatever's in your brain that makes you feel good.”

  “How'd you get away from him?”

  “He just stopped. Told me he was sorry, that he should never have done that to me. Then he left, and I ran away.”

  Carrie touched Helena's arm. “You're a brave young woman. You've done nothing wrong.”

  Helena stood. “Thank you.” She leaned in close. “If you have to kill the bastard or rip off his balls, tell him to think of me while you're doing it.” She grabbed her pitchfork and strode back across the field, leaving Carrie staring in astonishment. Damn, she thought. Language.

  And she let her own tears flow as she thought of Adriana.

  * * * *

  When she arrived beneath Malcolm Vicari's compound, Carrie swam toward the dock, making each stroke as quietly as she could, conscious now of every splash, every breath. And she had no way of knowing how close Vicari was to leaving.

  As she raised herself up onto the dock, her heart rate eased, lungs contracted, and she felt goose-bumply again as her micro-dermal ridges closed up. She wished she had a datalink, one of those damn phones, anything that would let her contact Jacob.

  I bet this is that foolish thing he warned me against, she thought. Vicari bribed himself off Shosha. Godly as these people are here in New Lancaster, it just takes one customs official with worldly needs to let him get away again. If he's smart—and he is—he's already got one in his pocket.

  Carrie decided it would be too risky to go up the stairway—she'd be trapped on it if Vicari or one of his men started down, with nowhere to hide. Instead, she made her way up the rocky hill, groaning with pain each time she stepped on a sharp rock. Dammit, she thought, I'm a water beast, not a land one—my feet are too tender. Twenty meters didn't seem so high when I wasn't climbing them straight up.

  Halfway to the top, she sensed movement above her. She looked up. Malcolm Vicari and two other men, presumably a couple of his farmhands, stood there. They were all pointing air pistols at her. Carrie froze.

  “You may as well come on up,” Vicari said. “This pistol might not necessarily be lethal, but one shot could knock you off this little cliff. You could break your neck.”

  * * * *

  Earlier, just after Carrie finished speaking with Helena, she heard Jacob's footsteps behind her. She wiped her face with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. Jacob said, “I was about to say that must've been difficult for her. But I see it was just as hard for you.”

  “I'm sorry,” she told Jacob.

  Carrie saw conflicting emotions play over Jacob's face. “Nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I couldn't hear Helena's words, but I heard her tone of voice. I saw her face.”

  A couple more tears made their way down Carrie's face, but she didn't wipe them away. “I'm ready now.”

  Jacob went to the car and retrieved a pair of binoculars from a compartment just in front of the passenger seat. He handed them to Carrie.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Whatever you can see from here.”

  Carrie raised the lenses to her eyes. “Well, I can make out his house—a very nice house, by the way. Dock down below. I see a couple boats down there, under a very big rock outcropping. I bet he just loves to sit on that rock and look out over the water and think big philosophical thoughts. There's the barn. Fields, lots of people working in them. Cows. Horses.”

  “It's all sort of generic to you, isn't it?” Jacob asked, a hint of humor in his voice.”

  “Sorry. Different life. Cities. Nanotech. By the way, when's the next cloudy day scheduled?”

  “They aren't. We realized we had to accept weather tech, but we insisted it stay somewhat random.”

  “Then we can't count on being able to sneak up on him.”

  “No, we can't,” Jacob said. “We'd best be on our way.” He headed for the car, Carrie right behind him.

  * * * *

  Within minutes Jacob was pulling into a parking lot at a small marina. About a dozen craft of varying sizes bobbed gently in the waters of the Humboldt River. Jacob led the way and Carrie soon found herself stepping gingerly off the dock into a police boat. It reminded her of the water taxis she'd often seen while visiting her aunt in Venice.

  The small cabin was just big enough for them to sit side by side. Jacob took the pilot's position and started the boat's motor. “Very nice,” Carrie said. “I suppose your department has to patrol the river, as well.”

  “This river helps define the habitat. A lot of commerce travels on it. Some people think of themselves as southerners or northerners.” Jacob pulled the boat out into the river, steering confidently while remaining alert for river traffic. He slowed as a towboat passed by, pushing a barge. The craft eased past them, its wake creating a minor roller-coaster effect for the small police boat. When it was safe, Jacob pulled farther out into the main body of the river.

  Carrie felt content to lose herself within her own senses for a time—the sweeping sight of the habitat's interior as it rose to either side, then overhead, and the rhythmic slap of waves against the side of the boat.

  It reminded her of watching the kilometer-long cruise ships come in at Barcelona. The scents of oil and sewage, even with the ship diligently employing nanotech to clean up after itself, would overpower the ocean's salt smell and the honey-like scent of Spanish broom, modified to flourish in a damp, salty environment, in a nearby field.

  Jacob's voice broke into her line of thought: “Tell me about your sister.”

  At the thought of Adriana, Carrie's facial muscles relaxed even more and she even managed a wan smile. “She was a couple of years older than me, and I called her my guiding star when we were growing up. Other than my parents, she was the only person I ever loved unconditionally.”

  Carrie let herself get caught up again in the chug-chug of the boat's motor and the feel of the spray on her arm. Water that smelled more of chlorine than the sea.

  Jacob asked, softly, “How did you find out what happened?”

  “Not until recently. When the Unity approached me. All I knew before was that she was the victim of a neural attack.”

  “Like with Helena.”

  “Stealing emotions is how it starts. Then he ends up destroying the personality.”

  “How in the world does he pick the emotional response he wants?”

  “From the way Helena talked, it sounds like he can't. It's as if he's accessing a series of computer files. My briefing from the Unity said the process can take anywhere from a few seconds to close to half an hour.”

  Jacob said, “Or like me flipping through my Rolodex.”

  Whatever a “Rolodex” is, Carrie thought. “It happened in Aristarchus City,” she said. “She was with some friends having pizza at A Fall of Moondust.”

  “I've been there,” Jacob said. “I get their special—it's one-sixth larger than the regular size, you know.”

  Carrie didn't want
to smile, but couldn't help herself. “Yeah. They always got that, too. It was late and Adriana walked home by herself. No one thought anything of it. She'd done it a hundred times ... when they found her, she was—empty.”

  “Empty?”

  “Perfectly healthy physically. She likes to eat ice cream, or for me to run my hands through her hair. But there's no personality. Her body is there, but what makes her Adriana is gone. He stole her.”

  Carrie couldn't find any more words. She set her features against her grief, steeling herself against a full-fledged outpouring of the raw stuff, like she'd allowed all those nights in Aristarchus City or Madrid or closeted in her quarters on some starcraft, clutching her pillow, shaking uncontrollably, tasting the salt of the tears as they soaked the pillowcase, as the only thought her consciousness could retain was Adriana's unperceiving eyes within a living body.

  Carrie realized the slapping of the waves against the boat's hull had filled the silence. She told Jacob, “You have to forgive me.”

  His expression was kindly, understanding. “That's not my place.” He guided the boat toward another small marina at this opposite shore of the river.

  * * * *

  Carrie helped Jacob tie up the police boat at the dock. She was impressed to see that another car was waiting for them. “How'd you do that?” she asked.

  “I asked HQ over here to provide a vehicle, and said I wouldn't need additional personnel. They trust me.”

  But as Jacob started toward the car, she grabbed his arm. “I want to get the lay of his land, so to speak, before we rush into anything.”

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  “Let's go behind the marina office.”

  Jacob was clearly perplexed, but followed her all the same. She led him behind the marina's small office. It was a single story tall, and for some reason appeared sturdy enough to withstand a hurricane. “Okay,” she said, “You notice we can't see Vicari's compound from here. That means he can't see us, especially as it grows darker.”

  Jacob stood with his hands on his hips, and Carrie could tell he was becoming more impatient by the moment. “So what do you intend to do?”

  “Sometimes I even have a Plan C. Hold my clothes while I take the plunge to get a closer look at things up ahead. Oh, you don't have to turn your back—I'm wearing a bathing suit, which is more than I usually do, for goodness sake.” For goodness sake? Carrie thought? Where did that come from?

  Jacob reached out a hand to accept her clothing. “Is this a good idea, Carrie?”

  “I intend to get a closer look at his compound, from a direction he doesn't expect.”

  “That's all you'll do? You'll come right back?”

  No, Carrie, better not say swear to God. “Promise.”

  Jacob said, “I only have the one phone, and it wouldn't survive being underwater, anyway. We'll be out of touch.”

  “Vicari's compound isn't quite half a K away. I should be back in an hour,” Carrie said. “If you don't see me by then, the original plan's off—call for backup.”

  * * * *

  After marching Carrie up the hill, Vicari told the farmhands to stay outside the house. It's every bit as nice close-up as it was from a distance, she thought. Vicari marched her through a sun deck at the side of the house, through an elaborately furnished living room, and into the same office where he'd abused Helena. Quality wood desk, she thought, just like Jacob's. No comp. A keyboard attached to some sort of metal implement. Looks like you'd have to bang on the keys pretty hard. Lots of fancy wooden bookshelves, stuffed with volume after volume.

  I admit it. I'm scared.

  Once she reached the center of the room, Carrie turned to face Vicari. He was still pointing the pistol at her. To her own surprise, her fear washed away, and she knew only anger—part of it was that he was such an ordinary-looking man, dark hair down to his shoulders, clean-shaven, eyes bright with intelligence. A man who works in his office every day, Carrie thought, and probably spends much of his nights reading all of those books.

  How dare he not be a monster? How dare he be so ... mundane?

  “Nothing to say for yourself?” Vicari asked.

  Sorry, Adriana, was all she could think of. But mention her sister's name, Carrie knew, and he'd only be more likely to kill her. “We could play this out like one of those cube dramas. I could tell you there's no chance you'll leave this habitat.”

  Vicari took a step forward and centered his aim between Carrie's eyes. “Reality's a little messier. I'm trying to stop, you know. I almost have. But you've just made everything that much more complicated.”

  And that's when Carrie heard a chuffing sound, then heard it again, followed by two dull thumps. It can't be, Carrie thought. He wouldn't be that foolish—as foolish as I've been!

  As Vicari turned toward the doorway, Carrie saw her chance—she leaped forward to grab Vicari's arms from behind. He bent forward to throw Carrie over his shoulder, but she managed a kick against the back of his leg and he fell to his knees.

  Jacob appeared in the doorway even as Carrie reached for Vicari's pistol again. Vicari tore himself away from her grasp and fired at Jacob.

  Even as Carrie saw Jacob was struck in the head, Vicari's other arm thrust back and struck her in the face. She fell backwards, stunned. She felt a hand touching her face, then nothing...

  * * * *

  ...until she realized she was lying on the floor of Vicari's office. She sat up, rubbed her nose, was glad to find it wasn't broken, saw Jacob lying in the doorway.

  Not dead, please, Carrie thought. She went to him, touched his neck. Good pulse. “Thank your hypothetical God,” she muttered. Now—where was Vicari?

  She rushed back through the living room and the sunroom, past the prone bodies of Vicari's two farmhands, and heard a motor start up behind the house. One of the boats, Carrie realized. A few steps brought her to the overlook. Sure enough, Vicari was starting up a boat, certain to pull away any second.

  I can survive a twenty-meter jump into water, Carrie thought. And the water comes up to the dock, not to a shoreline—it's plenty deep.

  But that damn rock outcropping's in the way. I'd splatter against it like a melon.

  Vicari's boat left the dock, headed west. Carrie had about a second to react—no time to run past the outcropping.

  Then she made the connection—he's headed west. The image of the curving waterfall flashed into Carrie's mind—

  —and she jumped.

  First came a horrifying instant in which the outcropping seemed to fill Carrie's entire frame of vision and she knew she was dropping straight down—then it was as if an unseen force pushed her smoothly aside and she cleared the rock easily and splashed into the river to one side of Vicari's boat.

  The instant she struck the water, Carrie twisted around, retaining as much momentum as she could, and swam hard toward the surface. She'd been out of the water briefly enough that her body quickly adapted again.

  Carrie marshaled all her strength and made a final push to break the surface and grasp the edge of the boat. As Vicari, standing at the boat's controls, turned toward her in surprise, she pushed up with her arms, got a leg over, and leaped at him. She struck him full-force with her body, slamming him into the boat's controls.

  Carrie could tell Vicari had the breath knocked out of him, but he wasn't giving up yet—he reached toward her face, but she knocked his hands away, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him around in front of her.

  Then she gave him a shove and savored his look of amazement as he fell backwards into the river.

  She dove after him.

  Vicari was struggling to stay afloat as Carrie landed on him. She grabbed him around the neck and pulled him beneath the surface.

  Vicari's hands swung at her, and Carrie took some pretty good blows to her head. Doesn't matter, she thought. I can stay under a lot longer than he can. Let him start using up the oxygen in his bloodstream, let the CO2 build up, he panics, and I have him
just where I want him.

  When Vicari really began flailing about, Carrie pushed him away and looked closely at his face—the eyes wide with fear, mouth closed tightly as he fought not to breathe.

  Maybe you know just a little of what Adriana felt, in the final moments when she could feel anything at all.

  Just a little.

  Carrie twisted around again, let her strong legs propel her beneath Vicari, grasped him from behind, and rushed him back to the surface.

  * * * *

  Jacob was coming down the wooden stairway as Carrie pulled Vicari onto the dock. He knelt to help her. “Is he alive?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Carrie said. Vicari coughed up water. She rolled him onto his side until he stopped.

  Jacob asked him, “Mr. Vicari, are you all right?”

  Vicari spit out more water and indicated Carrie. “No thanks to her—she tried to drown me! I want—”

  “I was only asking so I could know to cuff you.” Which he did, then pulled Vicari to his feet. He took his prisoner by the arm and led him up the stairway.

  Carrie followed them, saying, “Jacob, I can't thank you enough for—”

  “I told you I was an excellent shot. I had you figured out from the beginning, by the way. I knew your plan D had to be ditching me and taking on Vicari by yourself.”

  “Plan D? I never have a plan D.”

  They approached the front of Vicari's house, where Jacob's car waited. The farmhands were already cuffed and in the back seat. Jacob put Vicari in and shut the door.

  That's when Carrie saw the haunted expression on Jacob's face. “What's wrong?”

  Jacob put a hand to his face and Carrie could see he was fighting back tears. Suddenly she realized: “Vicari touched me just as I blacked out. Sheer spite, I guess. I can't tell that he did anything to me, but if he touched you, too...”

  Jacob lowered his hand. Tears streamed down his face. “I ... told you my relationship with God is personal, intellectual, and emotional.”

  “You did, but—”

  “He stole that emotional connection.” Jacob made a fist and stared at it. “It's as real as this. But anyone you tell about it has to take your word—you can't quantify it.”