Superego-Fathom

by Frank J. Fleming

  CHAPTER 22

  I let myself scream. With intense will, I had been able to fight such pain before, but who was I trying to impress now? I screamed and screamed as I fell into a universe of pain and couldn’t remember where I was or who I was. My mind had no space for anything but processing the agony.

  And then everything went black.

  I woke up, my flesh, muscle, and bone all burning — more like a whimpering puddle of pain now than a raging fire.

  “Can you hear me, Rico?” a voice asked. Diane. She was hovering over me, looking concerned. It was a bit of déjà vu, but I wasn’t going to get all sappy this time. Still, I reached up and touched her face gently. She held my hand. “We sedated you,” she said.

  “Probably a good idea,” I muttered. “Where are we?”

  “Deep space right now.” Diane sat on the bed next to me. “We’re trying to figure out our next move. Video of you getting shot was everywhere. Everyone thinks you’re dead now.”

  I struggled to sit up in bed. Diane tried gently to stop me, but I wanted a clear view of the situation. I was on one of two beds in a small medical bay. There was a window on the wall, through which I could only see black and stars; nothing looked too near or too bright. It seemed I was back on Diane’s command ship, the Prodigal. Having gained a clear view of the room, I slowly turned to the more problematic matter of myself. There was a bandage covering the right side of my chest and one to the left of my stomach.

  “You had holes about a centimeter wide burned straight through you.” Diane put a hand on my shoulder — maybe to be supportive and maybe to keep me from trying to stand.

  I looked at the IV drip connected to my arm and then back at the bandaged wounds. “Probably had important organs there.”

  “You should be dead,” Diane said. “That Fazium is kind of crudely holding you together. It closed up the holes, at least. It’s somehow getting the material to heal you from wherever it can in your body. You really need to eat and refuel right now — but that’s hard because you have a hole in your stomach. You’re getting nutrition intravenously, though. How do you feel?”

  Like I fell out of a thirty-story building onto jagged rocks. Plus had the flu. “Pretty good, all things considered.” I looked under the covers, and I was in my underwear. “We got any pants for me?”

  Now Diane put pressure on my shoulder and eased me back down. “You’re not getting out of bed. The Fazium is not healing you. It’s basically just keeping you duct-taped together. And now there are two holes in you for it to deal with, along with the poison you still have in your system. If you just suddenly roll over and die, it won’t be that surprising. We need to get you to a hospital.”

  I settled my head onto my pillow, but my aching body was not going to get comfortable. “There are hospitals in Vesa.”

  Diane sat in a chair next to the bed. “You want to continue with the mission?”

  “What’s the other option? I thought the point was to save billions of lives. Are we supposed to put that on pause because some psychotic killer might die? That doesn’t sound like it makes pragmatic or moral sense.”

  There was that piercing gaze of hers that always looked like it stared right through what little bit of a soul I had. On this, at least, I was being honest with her. “You’re that devoted to this?” she asked.

  “I chose a course of action, and I’m following through,” I answered. “That is how I always operate. That means I’m going to defeat the Fathom or die trying. The only question now is whether I can walk. Which leads to a follow-up question: Pants?”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Watch your step.”

  I was leaning against Diane for support. She had gotten me pants, but only the bandages covered my torso. I held on to the IV pole, which I rolled along with me — a demand of Diane’s. Despite all the pain, I was most focused on Diane pressing against me, smiling at me — smiling at the selfless hero I was trying to be. I wanted her in a number of different ways, but that wasn’t gonna happen. Not just because of who I was but because I was most likely going to die soon if we were being honest about the odds. And she, too, if she stayed near me.

  “I think she’s worried about whether you’ll stay devoted to this cause,” Dip told me, “because she knows what you are.”

  She doesn’t really know what I am. I think she still imagines me to be the hero that I never really can be.

  “Are you really going to give your life for billions of people,” Dip continued, “when you don’t actually care about any of them?”

  I stared at Diane’s smile. I would die for that, though I barely understood why. I care about one of them. By extension, I logically know I could care about more.

  And one of those others I could theoretically care about approached us — Eldan — though the caring wasn’t quite happening yet. “How are you —” he stammered. “Shouldn’t you be —”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I answered. “I’m tough to kill and not good at lying around.”

  He stared some more at my naked, furless torso. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Were you able to contact your wife?” Diane asked Eldan.

  “Yes, I told her I didn’t know when I’d be back on planet.” The worry was apparent on his face. This was someone who legitimately cared about others. “It’s a ... it’s a mess down there. No one knows what’s happened to you.”

  “We’ll let them know soon enough,” I said, “but we could probably use your help. I’m not sure how many people we have going into Vesa.”

  “So we are going there?” Eldan asked. “Well, if you need my help, I will do whatever I can. You can count on me.”

  There was a thick sincerity to Eldan. This all meant something to him. He had family and others he cared about — strong reasons he wanted to succeed. The clarity that gave him seemed nice to have, but there was the worry on his face, too. Attachments still seemed to be mainly weaknesses, but here I was pursuing that. It was as if I was choosing what would ultimately kill me just so I might feel my death had some meaning ... for whatever that’s worth ... before being plunged into nothingness.

  “We know we can count on you,” I told Eldan. “We’re going to win this.” There. That lying Dip told me to do.

  That seemed to ease some of Eldan’s worry — which was of benefit to me if it meant he’d be more focused. I looked at Diane, and she smiled back at me with an expression I had not seen directed at me very often: admiration. And I was briefly hit with the false sense that what I was doing had meaning, even though logically I knew this was all a game with no purpose and no end other than death.

  “Why is he out of bed?” Wade was staring at us from a doorway. He appeared horrified. That was the reaction I wanted from my enemies.

  “He wants to get on with the next part of the mission,” Diane explained.

  Sylvia peeked through the doorway. She look more exasperated at the sight of me. “And he thinks he can stay standing long enough for that?”

  “Do you two have better plans?” I asked.

  Wade shrugged. “I was going to impersonate you.”

  I snorted. “I doubt that would work.” I let go of Diane, stood on my own, and stretched my arms up. It took some will not to scream in pain. “Enough lollygagging. Let’s get to it.”

  “All right,” Wade said. “We’re in contact with the Vanguard and were about to talk to Redden. Come in here and let’s plan this.” He turned to Eldan. “You’ll need to wait out here.”

  I laughed and motioned to Diane and myself. “You trust us and not him.”

  “This is just standard —”

  “Protocol is out the window, Wade,” Sylvia interrupted. “Let’s work with what we have.”

  Wade sighed and motioned for us all to come in. We were in a small room with a few seats and monitors. On one monitor was Jere, who was apparently back at the safe house on Calipa. His eyes grew wide upon seeing me. “You’re up and about?”r />
  Diane helped me into a chair. “Marginally,” I said.

  “Everyone assumes you’re dead,” Jere stated. “They’re not sure what to do since you just won the election. They certainly don’t want to give it to the Fathom’s candidate.”

  “Can Rico officially be made the representative in absentia?” Wade asked.

  “There’s supposed to be a ceremony,” Jere said.

  I intensely hate ceremony. “What will Vesa care about?” I inquired.

  “As long as the election results were filed — and everyone is convinced you’re alive — that should be enough for them to accept you as representative,” Jere said.

  “What we need from you,” Wade said, “is to get control of Oron-Damari so we can see its archives. This is critical — we’re talking about finally getting some information leading to the Fathom.”

  Jere nodded. “I understand. The Fathom have almost completely lost control here. They’re still boxed in at the Monolith, but I think when everyone sees that the newly elected representative is still alive, that should inspire everyone to band together and kick them off this planet entirely.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m seen publicly soon, then,” I said.

  “We’ll continue to do what we can from here,” Jere stated. “I don’t know what business you have on Vesa, but I wish you success.”

  “I assure you it’s extremely important,” Wade said. “We’ll be in contact with you again soon.” The feed to Jere ended.

  “Redden is calling,” Sylvia informed us as she sat at a console.

  Redden appeared on a monitor. He was a little less grim-looking than usual and actually looked at me with bemusement. “How are you not dead?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s see how long I can keep it up, though. What’s the plan when we get to Vesa?”

  “You get the archives, get the information, and get out as quickly as possible,” Redden said. “We don’t think the Fathom yet know about the information there that is linked to Mountain Fall, but time is critical here.”

  “What is Mountain Fall?” Eldan asked.

  Redden noticed Eldan for the first time. “Who is he?”

  “He’s part of the resistance on Calipa,” Sylvia explained. “He knows a lot about the security systems on Vesa. He’ll be an asset.”

  “If this is about stopping the Fathom,” Eldan said, “I’ll do whatever is in my power to help.”

  “All right,” Redden said, looking quite uncertain. “It’ll be a tricky situation down there.”

  “What kind of weapons and support can we get in Vesa?” I asked.

  “None,” Redden answered. “Didn’t I tell you it’s a completely controlled city?”

  I had never been to Vesa, but I had heard some stories about it. There was no getting inside the city without going through security, and absolutely no weapons were allowed inside. “You’re telling me you have no way of getting me any weapon? You don’t have a man on the inside?”

  Redden’s face went grim. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Can we bring gunpowder weapons or something?” I asked. “They don’t usually check for those.”

  Redden shook his head. “They use full scans on everyone. All weapons are banned. If you have even a small knife on you, they will find it and take it.”

  I grimaced; this all seemed like a bad joke. “No knives in the city? That sounds lower than primitive. What do they have in there? Gangs roaming around, beating people with clubs?”

  Redden paused. “They have a little of that, but for the most part the city is highly monitored. Any violent incidents are handled by security immediately.”

  “So if we need guns, we cause an incident and take them from security,” I suggested.

  “The security force will only be armed with guns in extreme situations,” Redden said. “And they are guns that are set to be fired only by the owners.”

  I laughed. It hurt. “It sounds like the place is perfectly safe, then, and I’ll have nothing to worry about.”

  “Needless to say,” Wade said needlessly, “the Fathom — and probably the Shade in particular — are going to try something.”

  “They’re going to beat us all to death,” I said. “What about people with musculature enhancements? Are they banned?”

  “No,” Redden answered. “That’s considered discrimination.”

  I leaned against a wall. Standing was starting to wear me out. “I’m guessing we’re going to run into those people, then.”

  “It’s a distinct possibility,” Redden admitted.

  I looked at my right hand, which was younger than the rest of me. “So if I am to understand what we’re walking into, we most likely have a bunch of super-strong people ready to pound us into paste in the sophisticated no-weapons-or-violence city. And what do we have?” I looked at the other four in the room. “Just the five of us ... and two of them are women.”

  Diane didn’t react, but Sylvia frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I sighed. “I don’t have time to pretend equality is a thing in this situation. You’re going to be weaker and smaller than at least half the people in there and certainly more so than anyone they send at us. Unless you’re hiding some enhancements.”

  “I can fight hand to hand,” Sylvia asserted.

  “I know. I saw you with the Choppy Sisters. You fight very well ... for a woman your size.”

  “We need another discussion about tact,” Dip commented.

  Can’t people just accept uncomfortable facts graciously?

  “I’ll be more useful in a fight than you,” Sylvia said.

  “So would a nine-year-old at this point,” I admitted. I turned to Wade. “This is mainly going to be on you.” I looked at Eldan. “And you.”

  “I don’t really know much about hand-to-hand combat,” Eldan said.

  “You’re bigger than most humans — the place is majority human, I think — so just try to look intimidating.” I looked at Diane. “I assume you’ve killed with your bare hands before.”

  Diane quickly shook away whatever unpleasant memory that surfaced and patted Sylvia on the shoulder. “We girls will think of some way to be useful. But if this operation comes down to a brawl, I think we’ve lost.”

  I took a deep breath. I usually wouldn’t do an operation where I had so little control. “I guess we’ll be relying on Vesa security to keep us safe as well ... assuming they’re not in the thrall of the Fathom.”

  “Not yet,” Redden stated. “They’re trying to take the Codix Federation politically, which does restrain them to an extent.”

  “We’ll just have to be quick, then,” I said. “As soon as we’re on planet — and assuming they recognize my elected authority — can I just head straight to the data archives?”

  Redden shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s more complicated than that. To access the particular archives we need, it takes the authorization of two representatives.”

  “So we need to get an ally, one of the existing representatives?” Wade asked.

  “Or get his compliance through other means,” I said.

  “I think it’s already well established that you’re not in any condition to threaten people in Vesa,” Redden said. “Most of the other representatives are in the Fathom’s pocket or are at least intimidated by them. But we know of one, Lillian Stevens, a human from Sufrov, who has not been cooperating. She seems to be resisting the Fathom and is our best bet. You’ll need to talk to her and get her on your side.”

  I smiled. “I can be quite charming to human females.”

  Sylvia scoffed. “Can you?”

  Wade glanced warily at both of us before looking at Redden. “We’ll handle it.”

  “Godspeed,” Redden answered before ending the call.

  “So whatever we need from the archives is really important?” Eldan asked.

  “We can’t go into detail,” Wade said. “But know that this conflict with the Fathom hinges on it. If we succeed, we can win
this.”

  “Then I will help however I can. I will give my life if I have to.”

  I was starting to find Eldan’s sincerity a little irritating.

  “We know you will,” Diane said with the kindness I did not have the energy to feign.

  “So, next steps?” Sylvia asked.

  I looked at my naked, bandaged torso. “Get me some clothes without holes in them. Then let’s make an entrance.”

  CHAPTER 23

  I know how to wear a suit. In my exploits over the years, I’ve often had to mingle with the upper class. But dressing well isn’t just about the clothes — it’s about how you walk. How you carry yourself. And pulling it off was difficult when it felt like my insides were barely taped together. Still, I think I managed to look confident and powerful as I strode to the city entry point. People called both the city and the planet Vesa — there was little else to the planet besides the enclosed city that claimed to be the safest place in the galaxy.

  The security guards — various species, though mainly humans, in navy blue uniforms — instantly regarded me as someone who must be important. They gasped as soon as they realized exactly who I was. I spoke to confirm it. “Hello. I am Rico, aka the Angel of Death, and the duly elected representative from Calipa.”

  Diane and Eldan followed me, hanging back just slightly so that the focus would be on me. It wasn’t just security there; there were also numerous civilians, many with sophisticated recording devices. We had tipped off the press. Everyone was going to see this.

  “We thought you’d been killed,” stammered a young woman, one of the security guards. I didn’t see any weapons on her or the others. I thought I could easily take her, but I knew looks were deceiving.

  I set my smile to charming. “Why?”

  “We saw you get ... shot.”

  I scoffed. “So what?” I looked at the press. Now I let just a little bit of menace seep into my smile. “I want to make this very clear: I. Can’t. Be. Killed.” That’s a great boast, because if I’m ever proven wrong, I won’t care anymore. “Can we move this along, now? I have a very busy schedule, so my aides and I need to get in.”