When Amanda asked what they meant by eventually, Harmon answered, “Maybe ten years? I’m not as familiar with human biology as I am of other races. But from what I can see, your physical bodies are weaker than most. Especially those who suffered contamination in the very early days. They’ve not improved their attributes much, and thus their bodies are still close to human norms.”
Allistor shook his head, pounding his fist on the table in frustration. Harmon was right. They’d been practically driven insane with the pain of the conflict going on inside their bodies. Even if they’d managed to kill things and gain experience to level up, they would not have had the presence of mind to have assigned any attribute points.
Amanda had a more hopeful take on the information. “So, if we could get them to assign points, assuming they leveled up, what would best help them fight the radiation? Constitution? Stamina?”
Harmon nodded. “Significant increases in those attributes would increase the body’s natural defenses and ability to fight. This still would not eliminate the radiation contamination. It would simply allow them to fight it with fewer… side effects.” He grimaced.
“So fewer mutations. Would that mean less pain?”
Gralen shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The damage and repairs would still be ongoing. The bone breaks, muscle tears, and skin deformations would still be happening, they would just heal more quickly, not allowing them to become as pronounced as before.”
Harmon added, “And the system’s natural rate of eliminating the contamination would increase. Instead of ten years, it might be seven, or five. Maybe less, if the attribute increases are significant.”
Allistor was afraid to ask, but he needed to. “And their brains? The damage to their brains would continue as well?”
Both aliens nodded their heads.
Goodrich, who was sitting at the table, and who had been in the infirmary every waking moment since they’d brought the survivors back, whispered, “I… can’t imagine. Ten years? Even five years of that kind of pain, every minute of every day.”
Amanda looked at Allistor, her eyes reflecting his own hopelessness.
“So, even though the regeneration of her brain tissue has helped Mira recover to some extent, you’re saying the damage is going to continue?”
Gralen let out a long sigh that was half growl. “Worse than that. The way the regenerator works, new tissue is created based on the genetic information the scanner can gather from the damaged tissue and any remaining healthy tissue. It is much like cloning. But when the source tissue is all damaged, the new tissue is less than perfect. The machine is making its best estimate based on available information. Subsequent scans and regenerations will be less and less effective, and the baseline for ‘healthy’ tissue is lowered.”
Allistor looked confused. Amanda’s face fell into her hands, her head shaking. Seeing Allistor’s face, Nancy explained.
“Imagine a document scanner. You place a perfect original of a drawing into the scanner, and the image it produces is 97% accurate. Some of the lines are just a tiny bit blurry, some of the colors not quite perfect. Then you scan the reproduction, and again the result is 97% accurate, with more minor errors. So your second reproduction is about 94% accurate compared to the original. With Mira and the others, the original that we’re able to scan now is … what? Maybe 60% accurate, because their whole bodies were so badly damaged over the last year. So the reproduced tissue is weaker than if they’d been healthy to start with. And it’ll only get worse.”
Gralen added, “I’ve had more experience than I want to remember with regeneration. Under normal conditions, like a battle injury, the scanner can find some healthy tissue to copy. Even if it’s only bone marrow. In the case of Mira and the others, even the marrow is irradiated.”
“What if we were to scan one of us, give the machine an example of healthy tissue?” Allistor was grasping at straws. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
Gralen shook his head. “You’d have to be an exact DNA match, or the new tissue would do more harm than good. Mira’s body would reject it, causing infection, fever, and weakening her ability to fight off the radiation sickness.”
“Then what’s the best case scenario for them?” Allistor turned to Amanda, whose face was still covered by her hands. She lowered them, not looking up to meet Allistor’s gaze.
“Based on what we’ve just been told? We can heal them, but not stop the pain. We can continue to regenerate them, hope that they’ll hold out long enough for the system’s nanobots to win their battle. But their condition when it’s over would be… not ideal.”
Harmon grunted. “That is an understatement. They will be severely weakened physically. Even were they to level up and assign their attribute points effectively, they would be lucky to maintain even baseline human levels. And they would almost certainly be driven insane by the pain. If they haven’t been already.” His voice was quiet and gentle, but firm. “This is part of the reason few within the Collective still use nuclear weapons. The damage to the land can be rectified in a relatively short period. But the lingering survivors…” He shook his head. “It is considered cruel, and will earn anyone using the weapons a vast ocean of Infamy Points.”
Goodrich was the first to respond. “I wouldn’t want to live that way.”
Nobody else in the room replied, but several nodded their heads.
Allistor stood up. “I’ll go talk to Mira. We’ll see if she’s recovered enough to understand. If she is, we’ll allow her to make her choice. I don’t care if she comes out a vegetable at the end, if she says she wants to tough it out and take the chance, we will support her one thousand percent!” his voice cracked as he spoke, and once again his eyes grew moist with tears that, this time, went unshed.
*****
“No. Just kill me.” Mira didn’t take more than a few seconds to consider her options before answering. “The pain…” Her eyes spoke more eloquently than her words ever could.
Allistor was sitting next to her on a sofa in his chambers. Amanda, Nancy, and Goodrich were seated nearby.
Amanda tried to sway her. “I know it hurts, Mira. But it hurts less now than before we found you, right?”
Mira nodded. “Yes, pain is less. But still… very bad.” The woman’s vocabulary so far had been very limited. She showed that she was able to comprehend complex information, but her responses were short and simple.
“We can help you fight. Help reduce the pain. I know it seems like forever, but in a few years, you might be completely healed.”
Mira shook her head. “Too long. And even when all done, not… me. Not anymore.”
Allistor felt as if he’d been punched in the heart. The woman was still sane enough to realize she wasn’t going to live a normal life, even if she managed to survive the next several years.
Amanda got up and pushed Allistor aside, sitting next to Mira and gathering her into a hug. “Please, Mira, take some time to think this over?”
Mira squeezed the woman hard, but shook her head. “No. Thinking already getting harder. Need to listen. Too much pain. Too little Mira already. Years from now…” She paused. “I want to end the pain. Now.”
Nancy got up. “I’ll call the other advisors together. We can talk this over, maybe let them speak to Mira. Then we can vote. This shouldn’t be on your shoulders alone, Allistor.” She put a hand on his shoulder as she spoke, giving it a pat, then heading for the door.
“No.”
She stopped midway across the room and turned back to face him.
“This decision is too much. Why would I burden all of you with it? It won’t ease my burden, or my guilt, either way. It’s better if the decision is mine alone.” He paused and looked to Mira, who was watching him. She nodded, slightly, looking into his eyes as she’d done when they first healed her.
“Besides, it’s ultimately Mira’s choice. And the others. We’ll explain it to each of them as best we can, and let them decide for themselve
s. For those who don’t have the capacity… well, that’ll be on me as well.”
Mira got up and stepped to Allistor. Very slowly and gently, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. She was much shorter than him, so her face was pressed into his chest. She spoke loudly enough for all in the room to hear. “Thank you. For healing. For trying. Need to let go. Dying is best for me. What I want.” She looked up, and gave him a small smile. “Good experience for someone.”
Allistor broke down then. He squeezed the woman tightly and sobbed, as did nearly everyone else. “I’m so sorry. I should be able to fix you. I should be able to save you.”
Mira pushed away gently, shaking her head as she made eye contact with everyone. “Already dead. Died long ago, just too… broken to know. You help us. I’m… sorry for the hurt.” She reached up and wiped the tears from one side of his face.
Nancy stepped in and took charge, taking hold of Mira’s shoulders and guiding her toward the door. “Come, let’s get you some dinner. Whatever you want.”
Mira nodded. “Yes, good food. Good last meal. Ice cream?”
*****
The following night found Goodrich, Bjurstrom, and McCoy creeping toward the murder chicken enclosure around midnight. All three men wobbled as they walked, having raided the still at the Warren and consumed more than a pint of apple moonshine each. They all carried a jar in one hand, and Goodrich was holding a rope in his other.
The day had been among their worst since the apocalypse. They’d all watched as Allistor spoke to each of the radiation-damaged survivors, explaining their situation. A few hadn’t been able to recover enough to even understand. But of those who did, every single one chose death over years of painful healing. Allistor had eventually, reluctantly, chosen the same for those who couldn’t choose for themselves. They were already too far gone to recover.
Amanda and Nancy had come up with a fast-acting poison, and they’d fed it to all of them, along with a heavy sedative, in some ice cream, at Mira’s request. Before eating the deadly offering, several of them had cried and thanked the people of Invictus for trying to save them, and for giving them peace.
When they’d all drifted off to sleep and stopped breathing, Allistor held a funeral in a nearby park, where every single citizen of Invictus City and many of the others from across the nation stood in silence to pay their respects. Thousands of survivors paying tribute to people most of them had never met, whose suffering had finally ended.
Later, when nearly everyone had retired, and no one was around to see, though they had never sworn an oath, the names of those people appeared along with the other lost citizens of Invictus upon the wall of the tower lobby.
The three airmen had raided the still that night to try and drown their feelings and forget, if only for a little while.
“I’m tellin’ youuuu… thish’ll be eashy!” Goodrich said for the fourth or fifth time. “She’zh practibully tame now.”
McCoy shook his head, the action making him fall on his butt. He grinned as he heroically managed to keep from spilling a drop. “She’sh gonna chew yer head off. I’m gonna laugh. Then be very sad.” He nodded his head to emphasize his point.
Bjurstrom helped him up. “Wanna bet? I shay she bites his arm off firsht.” He looked around. “We sssshould get a healer. Maybe three.”
McCoy continued to nod, now back on his feet but still wobbly. “I’ll go get them.”
Bjurstrom let him go, and he turned toward the residential area. Taking a deep breath, he screamed. “Healersh! We need healersh! Goody’s gonna get hissself bit in half!”
“Shit!” Goodrich cursed as he began to run up the stairs to the top of the wall that surrounded the murder chicken area. “Why?! Friggin’ nark! Now I gots shta hurry before the copsh get here!”
Goodrich reached the top and leaped off the wall, falling flat on his face when he tried to roll with the impact. “Dammit! Shhpilled my drink!” he cursed as he gathered up the rope and headed toward the murder chicken pens. The young ones were still too small for him to ride, so he bypassed them and went straight for the brood mother.
Unlocking the door to her pen, he stepped back. “C’mon, mama murder chicken!” he said, then giggled. “Shay that three timesh fasht!” He turned to his buddies, only then realizing that he was alone in the enclosure. Bjurstrom and McCoy were up on the wall, shouting for him to run.
“Run? Why?!” he shouted back. Turning back toward the pen, he saw the red glowing eyes of the mama murder chicken just inches from his face. She appeared calm, and actually looked toward his ring as if awaiting a feeding. She was smart enough to have recognized that the rings often held treats.
“Shit! You shcared me!” He stumbled backward a few steps. “Okay, hold shtill, we’re gonna go for a lil ride!” He gathered up the looped end of his rope, holding it in both hands and preparing to toss it over her head. Which was several feet above his own. “Murder chicken cavalry!” he shouted, flinging the rope upward.
He got lucky, and the looped passed over her head even as she jerked her head back in surprise from his shout and sudden movement. Goodrich fell backward, the throwing motion upsetting his fragile balance. He held tightly to the rope, pulling it taut as he fell, making the slipknot tighten around the brood mother’s neck.
And that was the point where things took an ugly turn.
Even as several of the Warren’s residents appeared at the top of the wall in response to the shouts from McCoy and Bjurstrom, the brood mother let out a roaring squawk that silenced everyone but Goodrich.
“Hey! None of that! Ssssshhhhush!” He frowned at her, trying to get to his feet.
The brood mother leapt free of her pen, dashing toward the indentation in the courtyard that held the giant nest. Still holding the rope, and only partway upright, Goodrich was yanked off his feet and dragged behind the powerful beast.
She turned and ran toward the wall, where she saw familiar humans that had fed her since her capture. Several of them were already tossing bunny carcasses down to distract her.
Reaching the treats, she came to an abrupt halt. Goodrich went rolling past her, cursing up a storm and covered in a combination of dirt, straw, and murder chicken shit.
People were shouting down at him. “Get out of there!” and “Jump!” were the two most common suggestions.
Pushing himself back to his feet as she consumed the offered treats, Goodrich was more than a little annoyed. “Lishten here, ya overshized rooshter! I’m all shtanky now cuz of you! We’re gonna go for a ride, or elshe!”
Walking toward her left side, which was the side one would normally mount a horse, he took hold of a fold of skin on her neck and tried to launch himself onto her back with one leg raised high.
The moment he left the ground, her neck folded and her head shot backward. Her razor sharp beak snapped shut, and Goodrich screamed. He fell onto his back, both hands clutched over the wound.
“My junk! She bit off my junk!” Suddenly very sober, he screamed for help.
A dozen citizens leaped down and began to entice the angry brood mother with more treats. She gave Goodrich a dirty look, used one claw to rake a deep gouge down his leg, then wandered off in pursuit of the offered treats.
While the trainers led her back to her pen, Nancy and several others were casting heals on Goodrich. His bleeding stopped, but a quick peek through the tear in his pants confirmed that she had indeed snipped off his manhood. Bjurstrom stepped to one side and puked up all the moonshine along with his last couple meals. A few others looked as if they might join him.
Together they lifted Goodrich and carried him out of the pen and toward the infirmary. Nancy patted his chest, saying, “Don’t worry, I think the regeneration tech can… uhh… fix this. You’ll be good as new in no time.”
A beatific smile appeared on Goodrich’s face. “The regenerator! Right on! Stupid chicken. Bit my junk off. Uh… hey, Nancy? As long you’re growin’ me a new one, can ya may
be make it… you know…” his voice dropped to a very loud whisper. “Bigger?”
*****
When Allistor was informed of the airmen’s shenanigans and injury the next morning, he declined to punish them. He figured the brood mother had managed that just fine already, and if he were honest, he might have gone with them if they’d invited him.
Instead, he called together everyone but Goodrich, who was recovering and reportedly guarding his newly regenerated junk with both hands as he snored. Allistor had Nigel transmit the meeting via hologram to every location.
Allistor had opted to hold the meeting in the tower lobby. When the lobby was packed, and he thought everyone had gathered, he started the meeting with no preamble.
“I’m sick of this! I’m sick and tired of losing people for no good reason. Yes, it was one of our own Earth weapons that damaged Mira and the others so badly and caused so much pain. But that bomb was set off because of the monsters, sent by the alien overlords who stole our world!” He paused as angry shouts erupted from the crowd.
“I’ve been told we’re still too small and weak to take the fight to the Ancient Ones directly responsible. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fight! There’s a goblin clan that attacked us, and has declared a blood feud with us. They won’t stop coming until we’re dead, or they are! I say we take the battle to them. Hit them on their own turf! Show those ancient assholes we won’t give up without a fight!” Again he waited as this time the crowd roared their approval. After the events of the last year, and most especially the last few days, everyone wanted some payback.
“I say… the human rebellion starts now! Are you with me, Invictus?!”
Shadow Sun Rebellion Page 38
