Shedding the Demon

by Bill Denise

  “If I my interject, Dr. Baksa,” Renard interrupted, “there was another problem with the Demon—that of control. We did not provide enough control in the Demon operating system to ensure his compliance with our commands, nor with even our laws. Eventually he went rogue and we were forced to terminate the program. Regrettable, but necessary. Now, Dr. Baksa, please continue.”

  “Thank you, Reverend, and as always, your insights are keen.” She proceeded with her description of altered human cells, modified to have amazing properties through a combination of genetics and nanotechnology. She kept the descriptions as non-technical as she felt possible, but no one in the room was able to comprehend what she told them anyway. Once she got past the descriptions of process, and started talking about capabilities, everyone in the room found themselves engaged.

  The ‘Augies,’ as Renard called them despite Dr. Baksa’s protests, were faster and stronger than any normal human being, and could out-perform the Demon in these respects as well. Their exoskeletons were very tough, although not nearly impervious like D-SAP, but much more flexible. Coupled with redesigned and improved joint structure, they were extremely agile and boasted a nearly unlimited range of motion. Their bodies produced power through chemical, solar, and many other means, besides the mundane eating and drinking. When it came to physically ingesting food, they could eat most anything organic and inorganic, drawing power through a chemical breakdown of any conceivable material. If they could ingest it, they could use it for fuel.

  Pure firepower fell short in comparison to the Demon, but he had proven how overrated such power could be. In a stationary, toe-to-toe firefight, the Demon would surely prevail. However, the Augies would never allow themselves to be drawn into such a fight; stealth, speed, and maneuverability would be their greatest weapons.

  Once the presentation was complete, the image of Dr. Baksa faded away. The stunned silence did not last long. Questions came from all of the Council members at once, and Renard took his time answering them with as little information as possible. He enjoyed their growing trepidation, and he had no intention of relieving them.

  Finally, he stood to leave and draw the meeting to a close. He stopped and turned back at a question from Jonathan.

  “When, Renard? When will you have them online?”

  “Soon, very soon. We’ll have our volunteers in the next few weeks, and we will have a half-dozen Augies operational in about twelve weeks.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Damon concentrated on his glass of water and tried to ignore the people scurrying all around him. There was always someone poking or prodding him, testing this or that, and he was near the end of his patience. It was like the first days after becoming the Demon, back before all the killing and bloodshed. Back when he thought he understood what was happening and what role he played. Back when he spent time with Joann.

  Which reminded him of the time he first met Joann. When she came to take him away from the life he had enjoyed at home. I don’t even know the name of the City! Or even the system. It was just “The City.”

  It was just home.

  She took him away from the only life he knew. And from the family he loved.

  It made sense to him at the time. He thought he only had one choice. He truly believed he was doing the right thing to help the Family. He didn’t know where it would take him, the things he would see, the things he would do.

  She took him away from all of it. She took him away from Andrea.

  Andrea.

  He could still hear her voice. All the lessons he sat through, just soaking up the sound of her voice. To him, that sound was love. Why then, when he thought of Andrea, did he see Joann’s face? He didn’t like it, but the memories of the two were coalescing.

  Joann.

  He didn’t really know her. Not like he knew Andrea. Joann was there for him during a scary time, since he had never been away from the Family. He’d never been away from Andrea.

  Andrea.

  Her voice had been fading lately, not there to give him advice like it had so often early on. Now he wondered if it was the sound of her voice he remembered. Or was it Joann’s?

  Joann.

  Joann made the transition easier. She gave him friendship when he didn’t know anyone. Still, he didn’t know her like he knew Andrea. He’d spent years working and learning under Andrea. She practically raised him. They’d made a great team.

  Unfortunately, he never had the chance to make it into something more. But what would have happened if he’d said no to Joann and stayed home? What would have happened?

  Andrea.

  How did I get this so messed up? How in Kyndra’s Benevolent Kingdom am I going to fix it?

  His thoughts were interrupted when a tech disconnected a patch cord from the newly-installed plug in his wrist. Once the small panel was closed and sealed, he couldn’t even see it with his vision on maximum magnification. He could see, however, where the D-Sap had been patched and stretched. Not stretched, exactly, but they made the wrist smaller during repairs in order to compensate for the missing D-Sap scales.

  He flexed the wrist and rotated it through its entire range of motion. Memories of the days before his alteration made him think it should hurt as he moved it, like it should be sore after the extensive surgery he’d undergone.

  Completely repaired. He still couldn’t believe it. Well, not completely repaired, he reminded himself, since the Trip-PC in that wrist could not be fixed or replaced. I guess one power-hungry heavy weapon is enough for anyone.

  Leland McKrae entered, and Damon tried not to watch him. He couldn’t look Leland in the eye, knowing that many of the man’s friends had died by Damon’s actions.

  “How are you feeling Damon?” Leland asked as he sat down directly across from Damon.

  “I’m all right—good I guess. I feel good, actually, but . . .” Damon stuttered and stumbled, looking anywhere but at the man across from him.

  “Damon, it’s okay. Look at me.” Leland reached out and grabbed Damon’s chin, lifting his face to look him in the eye. “In the end, you were trying to undo what you started; you were trying to save us.”

  Damon clenched his eyes shut against the welling up of tears. He suddenly couldn’t swallow.

  “Your decision to come back,” Leland continued, “against all logic, to try and save us is the only thing that matters.”

  Tears rolled down Damon’s face, but he opened his eyes and met Leland’s gaze. “But how? How can you forgive me? All of those good people are dead! When I tried to help I only led the soldiers to them and more died. No matter what I tried to do, it didn’t work. More people are dead because of me.”

  “No. Not more,” Leland interrupted firmly. “Fewer died because you came down and tried to fix what you had done. We ask no more than that. We don’t ask a person to be perfect, no one will never be perfect, not even close. All we can expect, and all we do expect, is for you to try and make it right. To fix your mistakes to the best of your ability. Judging from the fact that we had to carry you out of there, I’d say it’s pretty obvious that you gave it everything you’ve got.”

  “But still, how can you forgive me?”

  “That, my friend, is what we strive to learn all our lives. It’s the core of our beliefs. Very simple to understand, almost impossible to comprehend.”

  **** ****

  Another Council meeting called by Renard. Alexander bristled at the thought. He wants to rub the Augies in our face again!

  Alexander’s thoughts spiraled downward into anger and frustration as they had so many times since the Augies were first announced two weeks ago.

  I have got to find a way to counter this new threat. He’d been through all of the options time and time again, but came up with nothing.

  The Truebloods had Avelina Baksa, Joann Tashus, and every other prominent scientist of our time. The Pryke R&D teams were nowhere near as effective and not one of them would be considered gifted. Alexander had tried motivating t
hem through exorbitant salaries and perks, and he had tried his favored method of threat and intimidation. Nothing he tried caused the teams to develop anything truly innovative.

  Once his ship docked, he entered the airlock entrance to the meeting place. They always met in different locations, of course, and this one was perilously close to Havyn, the Trueblood homeworld. Yet another sign that Renard was getting cocky.

  Alexander walked down the hallways carved out of the interior of this asteroid and marveled at the luxurious fit and finish. What an incredible waste of time and money. He thought, feeling superior to Renard in this respect. His own utilitarian spaces were much more practical and could be produced at a fraction of the cost and time.

  He entered the meeting room and found the others already waiting, except for Renard, of course. He took his seat next to Esme and grunted his reply to her greeting. He just couldn’t bring himself to exchange pleasantries in his current mood.

  Surprisingly, Renard entered only a couple of minutes later. He greeted each of them by name, and Alexander wanted to strangle him. Instead he clenched his hands painfully tight under the table and gritted his teeth through the inane prayer.

  “Why are we here?” he asked as soon as Renard concluded.

  Renard smiled again, and spread his hands expansively. “I promise not to take up much of your time. I merely want you to meet the volunteers for our Biologically Augmented Human program—the very men and women who will ensure the peace and harmony in our Consensus.”

  “Take up much of my time?” Alexander growled as he stood quickly, knocking over his chair. “Not take much of my time! Between travel . . . and arrangements . . . and . . . and . . . arg!” His words degraded into incoherent growling.

  He started for the door as a line of people began walking in the room. Not wanting to be there one second longer, he moved to push his way through the newcomers. What he saw next stopped him in his tracks.

  Through the door walked Reave Nachman.

  Alexander felt as if his legs might buckle beneath him. Momentarily stunned, he could only stare at the man who now represented his own salvation. Reave made a slight flicking motion with his eyes, which snapped Alexander out of his shock.

  “OK, as long as I’m here, I’ll meet them. But be quick!” Alexander grumbled, but he did not return to his seat. He remained standing where he was, awkwardly between the meeting table and the door. The six volunteers were forced to walk around him as they came in.

  At times like this, he was thankful for the paranoia that drove him to use extreme measures to ensure his safety and security. It was a known fact that modern communications could be intercepted by enemies, and no matter how strong the encryption, it could always be cracked by someone with unlimited funds and determination to match. Therefore, Alexander had insisted that his tech-guys develop a means of absolutely secure communication.

  Their solution was simple, and every Pryke operative was equipped with the appropriate gear. It consisted of microscopic contacts embedded in the palm of the hands, that when touched to the hand of another person similarly equipped, formed a direct connection allowing completely secure transfer of information. Obviously limited in its application, it would serve his purpose perfectly in this situation. Alexander quickly composed a message to Reave while Renard rambled on in some insipid speech.

  Once completed, Renard introduced each candidate individually. Alexander took advantage of his odd location in the room and made a show of shaking hands with each person. Reave was fourth in line, and Alexander carefully ensured he spent the same exact amount of time greeting him as all the others. His HUD indicated that his message transferred successfully, and that Reave had also passed a message as well. Alexander hurried out of the room, purposefully grumbling to maintain the appearance of his anger. In truth, he couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  Back on his ship, speeding toward home, he accessed the message from Reave. It was a detailed account of everything he had done since going undercover in the Trueblood unit, as well as details about the mission prior to that time. I knew I did the right thing sending him in deep! Alexander thought as he gave himself the credit for everything Reave had accomplished.

  After reading through the report for nearly an hour, he found an appendix that gave startling estimates of Trueblood military effectiveness, and some details of the defenses at the Spire.

  This is it, Alexander thought, his hands shaking from the overwhelming shock. I finally have everything I need to kill that sanctimonious bastard and bring the entire Trueblood family down. The most satisfying part of the revelation was that Renard himself had provided the weapons for his own destruction. It was his own Augies that would bring his demise.

  Provided that Reave can pull off one more monumental task. Of course, with the information I gave him, he ought to be able to figure something out!

  Alexander spent the rest of the trip planning his attack and making arrangements for everything he would need. Once he got back to his office, he would be able to lay out the plan to his most trusted advisers and they would fill in and take care of the details.

  **** ****

  Joann thought about killing him.

  It would be so easy with him there in the vat undergoing treatments to turn him into a killing machine. She’d be doing the Consensus a favor, no one would argue that point.

  However, no one would ever believe it was a mistake, and she’d be tried and convicted and probably sentenced to death. That’s the thanks she could expect from the Consensus she’d be making a safer place.

  If she killed him now.

  Which she couldn’t bring herself to do.

  Instead she placed her faith in the programs and systems intended to provide control over these new weapons.

  She kept her thoughts from dwelling on the fact that control of humans was always tenuous at best, and nearly ineffective if the subject actively fought against it. The human mind is a wonderful and mysterious thing, she thought, and fights vigorously against any form of external control.

  She wanted to trust Dr. Baksa’s developments in the area and tried unsuccessfully to put herself at ease. Sitting down, looking at the shadowy shape in the vat, she finally decided that she needed a backup plan. This man, especially after augmentation, would be too dangerous to trust to tenuous control.

  Another hour spent brainstorming, and she had an idea. Another gamble, but one she felt much more comfortable trusting in.

  I’ll construct a virus. It’s my expertise after all! she thought. At least a long time ago, back in University.

  Nothing difficult in making a new virus, actually, and she had all the tools she needed here in the lab. The hard part would be to make something lethal to the Augies, but not to “regular” people. This challenge she attacked vigorously due to the small amount of time she had to make it work.

  Much of the research could be done anywhere in the complex and she made sure to move around so as not to attract too much attention. Of course, anyone tracking her usage would probably be tipped off, but she was forced to take her chances in this situation. She knew a few tricks from her friend Ted Khasan. Joann truly hoped he was still safe, and she realized how much she could use his help right now.

  Once she completed the research, she needed time in the lab, which was more difficult to disguise. She worked all night long after the others had left, frantically creating, testing, and refining her ideas. Slowly, painfully, she moved closer and closer to her goal.

  After a couple of weeks of working all day, snatching bits of sleep here and there in ten and fifteen minute bunches, and working feverishly all night, she wore herself down. One night after falling asleep on her feet while walking across the lab, she dropped a test tube and lost a few hours of work. Angry at first, she finally decided she needed to take a break. A couple good nights of sleep, and she would be sharp again.

  Reave and the others would be in the tanks for four more weeks, but she felt no closer to success. Dep
ression and despair began to crowd into her head, forcing out her thoughts and plans. Eventually, she gave in and went to bed.

  She dreamed about Damon, but only heard his voice and couldn’t see him. He was calling to her from the darkness all around, but she couldn’t find him. Every time she got close to his voice it would shift away and she’d be lost again.

  She woke worried about Damon and her friends. She felt so helpless, caught by the Truebloods and cornered by Reave. She wondered again if Damon was still alive or if her failure to reach him meant he could not be saved.

  A good sleep and thoughts of her friends reinvigorated her work and she made great strides that night and over the subsequent weeks.

  However, in the end, six weeks is not enough time to create the perfect virus. She had to call it complete before the Augies were due to emerge, since the labs would get crowded again day and night after that.

  It’s not perfect, but it’ll work, she reassured herself as she packed it into secure cylinders that she could keep on hand at all times. She took precautions since it was still lethal to non-augmented humans. The biggest trade-off, she lamented, but there was no time to fix it. At least it will only kill humans slowly, they might get treatment in time.

  She knew she was fooling herself.

  She’d wanted to make it airborne for simple deployment, but that turned out to be impractical due to its lethality. How to inject the virus was her next hurdle. She felt comforted that the hardest part was complete, but now she wracked her brain for ideas of how to use her new weapon. She’d heard of the needle-flak guns used to bring down the Demon, but she wasn’t sure how to get access to one.

  There is that guard who seems to like me, maybe I can work that particular angle?

  Joann watched Reave very closely after he emerged from the tank. She watched for any sign that the operating systems lacked control over his actions. Joann heard stories about the arguments between Dr. Baksa and Renard Trueblood over the extent of the control exerted by the systems, and it made her smile to imagine the taciturn Avelina getting into any argument, much less a heated argument.