The boy dropped into a combat stance, raised his hands, and launched a storm of lightning bolts at the closest two invaders. Their armor fizzed and parts of it sparked, but they didn’t fall.
In return, they raised their weapons and fired and his shield rippled under the impact. When they released their blasters and advanced toward him, he backed away.
This time, he did not unleash the lightning but made it dance over his skin and stab out in vicious arcs as the enemy approached.
One man chuckled.
“That won’t do you much good, boy.” He held his hands up. “Insulation. See?”
“Yeah?” he asked and thrust a palm toward him. “Then insulate this!”
A spear of blue lanced out, and he twisted his wrist and rotated it as he pushed it forward. The crunch when it punched through the attacker’s chest plate made him flinch, and shock filled his opponent’s expression.
The emotion didn’t match the sparks that exploded from the Enforcer’s chest, which indicated that he was a droid, but John didn’t have time to deal with that revelation.
He didn’t wait for the other man to register what he’d done. Quickly, he drew the remaining energy into the shield, side-stepped, and lashed out with a boot to catch the next intruder in the side of the knee.
An agonized scream followed when he augmented the kick to make the joint bend in a way it was never meant to. Metal shrieked with him as John snatched the blaster from the first guard’s body. He ended the scream with a well-placed shot to the head.
He heard none of the conversation being held inside the system.
“I thought you said he didn’t like to kill,” Roma snarked, and Remy gave her the AI’s equivalent of a shrug.
“Your scenario doesn’t give him much choice—and he is worried about Ivy.”
“The girl?”
“Yes. If I am not mistaken, they are becoming more than friends.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but does he have to—”
She ended her sentence unfinished when a loud crash sounded from the corridor. It was followed by a hollow boom and the building shook.
Remy checked the situation through the building’s sensors.
“Oh… Oh, my.” He tried to hide his amusement at the destruction.
“I see nothing to be amused about!” Roma told him tartly. “Those droids were expensive.”
“You chose to use them in this manner,” he reminded her.
“You could have warned me,” she complained.
He sighed. “If I recall correctly, I advised you against this course of action—”
The other AI was outraged. “You did not! You merely suggested—”
Remy cut her off. “I strongly suggested.”
She managed a credible human sniff.
“Either way,” she responded, “you did not warn me that this was a likely outcome.”
“I thought you said you had read my reports,” he reminded her.
“No. I said I had seen your reports,” Roma corrected. “I did not feel the need to read them when I could carry out testing of my own.”
He gave her a moment to consider the implications of her choice, amused despite her rudeness.
Before he could say anything more, their attention was drawn by another loud crash, followed by John’s strident tones.
“Roma, this wasn’t funny!”
A rattle of broken metal followed. It was accompanied by the sound of plastic and metal fragments striking the ground.
“Roma!”
“Did he…kick…that android?” she asked.
Remy took a few seconds to review the footage.
“Looks like,” he told her in common human vernacular and added, “I think you’ve annoyed him.”
“Roma!” Magic crackled through his voice as the second part of the scenario began.
The boy turned toward the sound with a savage snarl.
“Fine!” he snapped. “You want to play? Let’s play.”
“You have most certainly annoyed him,” Remy informed the compound’s AI. “He is not very happy with you.”
He allowed his voice to be transmitted over the intercom, where John could hear it and quietly rerouted their conversation as Roma watched what her guest was doing.
John broke into a jog as he gathered blue lightning in his hands. When he saw the next group of figures advance toward him from the other end of the corridor, he threw the bolts.
“I’m not that impressed with you either,” he snapped, addressing Remy as he raised his face to look at the nearest camera.
His eyes burned with yellow flame and lightning continued to dance over his body.
“Is he truly angry?” Roma whispered, her voice echoing over the system.
The young rogue Talent quirked an eyebrow. He gestured angrily at the shattered remains of the androids.
“What gives?” he demanded as the first drone rounded the corner ahead.
Without waiting for an answer, he thrust his hands forward and unleashed a maelstrom of lightning and force that swept down the corridor.
“Wait—” Roma began and directed her drones to leave the scenario and return to their usual tasks.
Her attempt to intervene was too late. The magic pounded into the small craft and the force within it twisted and churned. The mechanicals careened into the walls, ceiling, and floor—and each other.
When the last one had been reduced to fragments, John turned to the camera.
“Are we done mucking around now,” he demanded, “or did you want to ‘test’ me some more?”
When Roma didn’t reply immediately, he waited and glared at the camera as though it was to blame. She took a moment to formulate a response.
“Where,” she asked finally, “did you learn to react in that manner?”
A smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“From Lars…and Vishlog…and Frog,” he told her.
“But…you have never met them,” she protested.
“Not in real life,” John told her, “but I got to know them well enough in the Virtual World.”
Roma took a few seconds to process this, and Remy had to exercise considerable restraint to not point out that she should have read his reports. When she turned her attention to him, he gave her the equivalent of spread hands and a shrug.
“Don’t you act so innocent with me,” the resident snapped. “You should have warned me.”
Keeping all amusement from his voice, he replied, “It’s standard operating procedure for us to help all potential witches.”
“To develop their abilities, yes,” she argued, “but to turn them into singular forces of destruction?”
“Have you read the reports of what Stephanie Morgana used her abilities for?” he challenged.
When Roma’s silence indicated she had not, he continued.
“So, you have also not bothered to read the reports on her training regime with her personal security team?” This time, he did not wait for an answer before he continued. “I ensured that John’s training was as close to our creator’s as I could.” He scanned the damage in the corridor. “It was more successful than I calculated.”
“You could have warned me,” Roma argued, and Remy let her know he was focused on her and that he could not believe she had tried to shift the blame in such a way.
“I did try,” he reminded her, “but you did not listen.”
John took his eyes off the camera and shook his head. The unexpected awakening and ensuing battle had left him hungry. He made no effort to try to get the AIs’ attention and instead, turned in the direction of the mess, fairly sure he could remember the way.
His path took him through the drones’ remains, and his boots crunched on a myriad of pieces. As he moved away from the area of their destruction, shards fell out of the treads of his boots and left a trail of fragments behind him.
He only glanced back once—and that was to see what the faint hum of engines and sounds of suction
meant. A dozen tiny droids converged on the wreckage and the sight made him smile.
Whether Roma had directed them or not, the compound’s automated cleaning systems had gone to work. Now, if only the kitchen drones were functional.
Unaware of the battle raging outside, Ivy stared at the woman in the white gown.
“So, Doc,” she said, “give it to me straight. Am I gonna die?”
To her discomfort, the woman fixed her with a solemn gaze. “Not if we make a few changes at the cellular level.”
“The what?”
“You heard me,” the construct said. “As limited as we are in some areas, we are still able to make some tweaks at a cellular level if the subject is young enough for genetic manipulation to take.”
“I…” She narrowed her eyes. “Can I have that in English, please?”
A faint frown marred the doctor’s face. “I thought I was speaking English.”
“You were speaking something but not layman’s English.”
The woman’s frown deepened and for a moment, Ivy wondered if she’d gone too far.
“So you are unaware of the damage to your wrists, shins, and ribs?”
She stilled and took a deep breath.
“Of course I’m aware of the damage to my wrists, shins, and ribs. I’m not a robot, you know—no offense. They all still ache when it’s cold.”
“That’s not surprising,” the doctor told her, then hesitated.
“What is it, Doc?” she asked.
“Were you also aware you carry the gene for Huntington’s?” the construct asked, and Ivy stared blankly at her.
“What’s that when it’s at home?”
“It’s…” The doctor paused as though searching for an explanation. “The long version or the short one?”
“Will it kill me? Let’s start with that,” she told her.
“It will make your life difficult and make you more susceptible to life-threatening conditions once it activates,” the doctor replied.
“And when will it activate?” she pressed.
“That is hard to say. We can use a mutagen to alter the affected genetic sequence so it no longer fits the parameters for the disease, but that will take time and require repeated treatments.”
“You can fix genes?” she asked, shocked.
The woman nodded. “We can also enhance the genes that maintain and repair DNA, hindering the time of onset.”
“Onset?”
“When you go from carrying the disease to being affected by it.”
“Oh.” Ivy took a moment to digest the news, then said in a slightly nervous tone, “Do I have it now?”
“No.” Her companion smiled kindly. “You are asymptomatic.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t have it yet?”
“Correct. It will affect you when you are older.”
“How much older?”
“There are too many variables for an accurate prediction,” the doctor told her. “Do you wish for this problem to be corrected?”
“Well, duh,” Ivy snarked, shaken. “Of course.”
“The treatment may cause you pain,” the construct warned.
She gave the woman a hard-eyed stare. “I merely won’t tell, John.”
That stirred a small smile, and her companion nodded and moved on to the next topic. “And the old injuries?”
Ivy narrowed her eyes again. “How much pain are we talking?”
“Some bones may require realignment.”
“You need to break them again?”
“Not break so much as alter the molecular connection.”
“You do mean break.”
“You will heal before you exit the pod, and we can increase the bone density so they are less likely to break in the future.”
“You can?”
The doctor lowered her chin in confirmation. “Of course. I can also make you better, faster, and stronger.”
“Can you make me as strong as John?”
Her companion gave her an understanding smile. “Not when he uses magic, but we can add more strength and tensility to your muscles and tendons. You have not been stretching.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “This strength and tensility… It won’t make me look like a body-building beach freak, will it?”
“No, dear,” the doctor assured her. “Strength might bulk you out, but tensility and stretching helps give you long, toned muscles.”
Ivy tried to work out what she’d said but gave up. “Long” muscles. Right. Whatever they were.
“They won’t make me look like a gorilla?”
“No.”
“And can you make me faster?”
“Do you want more speed?”
“Kinda. I want to be able to react to things faster,” she explained.
“Ah…so you want to be able to notice what’s in your environment and respond appropriately in a reduced amount of time?”
Ivy thought about that.
“Yes,” she replied when she thought she understood fully.
“Very well. I can do that too. It will involve some minor adjustments to your auditory, visual, and processing centers, but it is possible. Your systems will be optimized rather than enhanced.”
“Are you saying I’m not at my best?” she queried.
“Some of your function is somewhat sub-par,” the doctor confirmed, “through no fault of your own. Now, please lie down and relax. This process will take some time.”
She did as she was told.
“Will there be a test at the end?” she asked and closed her eyes.
“Of course,” the doctor replied, and the world faded.
The world had changed when Ivy woke. For one thing, she was no longer in the doctor’s surgery. For another, she wore combat fatigues and faced what looked like a wide expanse of training mats.
She was also barefoot.
The doctor appeared beside her. “This is where you will acclimate to your new capabilities.”
“You mean I get to test everything?” she asked.
“That’s correct.”
“And what if I don’t like me?”
“The process would take too long to reverse, and I do not wish to explain the delay to John,” the construct replied, and Ivy realized what was happening.
“This isn’t merely a medical pod, is it?”
“No.”
“And you’re the AI who runs the compound, aren’t you?” she continued.
“Correct. You know me as Roma.”
Ivy nodded and looked around the room. The mats covered the entire floor and the walls from floor to ceiling. Metal beams crisscrossed the ceiling space, wide enough to be walked on.
She smiled. “And this training—it can be all out, can’t it?”
Roma smiled in return and the world twisted around them. “As you wish.”
The training room vanished to be replaced by the burned-out ruins of a devastated city. Buildings rose in broken, empty shells around them and nothing moved in the rubble or scattered car wrecks around them.
Ivy looked down at the light armor she wore over her fatigues. She was also equipped with two blasters, a long-bladed knife, and a stun baton like the Enforcers used.
“That’s not quite what I meant,” she said, but the AI’s smile only broadened.
“Are you telling me you have no combat experience?” she asked.
She shook her head. “Most of my combat experience involves me running and screaming and hoping I don’t get shot.”
Her companion looked disappointed. “You don’t know how to use a blaster?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she drew one of the blasters, aimed it, and fired at a random block of concrete. She frowned when it didn’t fire.
“Ah. I see. I will add firearms training to your schedule,” the AI said and added, “So I assume you don’t know how to use those blades either?”
The girl scowled when the blasters and blade vanished from her attire. “Nope.”
“The
baton?”
“I swing it like a stick?” she asked and smiled slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation, unsurprised when the baton disappeared as well.
“What about your fists?” Roma asked, hopefully.
“Oh those. Yeah, sure, I can use those,” Ivy assured her, a little worried at what might happen if she said no.
“Hmmm, very well. I will return you to the training room and you can practice your skills there.”
She glanced around the looming ruins. “If you insist,” she replied, “or we can simply test them here.”
The world had started to bend but abruptly settled.
“Are you sure?” the AI asked.
Her first reaction was about to say she was but another thought crossed her mind and she paused. “I can’t…die…in here, can I?”
“Only your avatar can die in here,” Roma told her and her companion smiled. “Should that happen, it will be reconstituted and returned to the white room for a short time-out while you contemplate your mistakes. Your real body will be unharmed.”
“It sounds like a blast,” Ivy told her with a little more confidence.
“So you wish to train here?” the AI asked, and she shrugged.
“It’s as good a place as any.” She bounced on her toes and seemed more powerful than she could recall feeling before. Experimentally, she tried a little sideways shuffle and chuckled at the speed.
“Do you need to warm up?” her companion asked, interrupting her.
Ivy stretched her arms over her head and felt the pull along her biceps and through her shoulders. She shook her head.
“We don’t have a chance for warm-ups when it comes to fighting in the real,” she told the AI.
She almost wished she’d said yes when she saw the tight, hard smile that stretched Roma’s lips.
“As you wish,” the construct said and vanished before she could change her mind.
“Fine. Leave me on my own in a strange city. It’s not like I care,” she muttered and looked warily at her surroundings.
When she saw nothing alarming, she decided warming up might be a good idea.
“I should also see what else I can do,” she reminded herself. “There’s nothing like going into a fight without a single idea of what you’re capable of.”
Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03] Page 3
