she was correcting him. “This machine tests her and my blood. If they are not compatible it will separate and reform it so there is no danger to either of us: as I said, it is not the best option, but these machines were designed for combat first aid.”
“And this?” Said Malcome eagerly pointing to another screen where the left hand side had begun scrolling a continual line of letters so fast, that they were unreadable.”
“That is her genome…” She said her words trailing off as she saw the man was trying desperately to understand.
“It’s… an… instruction…?” he said slowly
“Yes.” Victoria said, cutting him off before he said anymore. “It is the instructions on how to build a specific human being; it is her instructions.”
Malcomes eyebrows lifted in awe, but Bertram didn’t see, he was totally dumfounded.
“The machine examines the instructions, searching for things in either of our blood, or bodies that would be detrimental to the other. There...” she said pointing to the screen where the right hand side of the screen had begun to scroll. “That is my genetic instruction: in a moment more numbers will appear between our two codes. It will start at zero and run to a hundred. At some point it will begin flashing. That is a measure of compatibility between our bodies.”
“The zero and hundred?” queried Malcome.
“It is just a percentage match: zero would mean means we have no common markers between our bodies; hopefully the machine will find some, if it doesn’t…” she tried to ignore the possibility.
“And a hundred?”
Victoria smiled. “That would mean I’m transfusing myself… The machine has been programmed to take more of my blood than my body wants to give: so it’s likely that in a short while I will lose consciousness.” She knew that everything was automatic but she wanted the man to feel involved. “When that happens I want you to observe those numbers?”
He nodded with some enthusiasm.
“In a few moments another marker will appear adjacent to that one.” She said nodding towards the screen. “It is important that you observe as I have already told you, again for the second.”
Malcome nodded, and noticed that blood had begun to run along the tube from Victoria towards the machine.
“If you have any questions, ask it out loud, you will be informed, but not by me, so do not take fright. I will be unable to respond for some… time…”
Blood was coming through the other side of the machine towards Harriet when Victoria’s genome completed updating. Malcome looked at it puzzled. He looked at Victoria. “What does ‘match ninety-nine point nine-nine, mean?”
In her half-conscious state Victoria’s expression showed her bewilderment, at that moment the numbers stopped scrolling and began blinking.
Victoria was trying to speak as her consciousness slipped away. “No that can’t... my… blood... is…”
Malcome was staring perplexed at the new annotation on the screen. ‘Genome compatibility/comparison – parent/sibling family member’.
In the aftermath, as Nicholas’s mind struggled to accept what had happened, the despair turned to anger. Firstly he had been angry with Simeon for starting the rebellion, but he knew that wasn’t fair; if he hadn’t someone else would have. His anger moved to encompass the Guard: fighting back was an expected reaction, but butchery had no place in any society, whatever the provocation. Then there was the Marshal; acting to put down the rebellion was an entirely expected consequence, but it was part of the quality of a ruler, in how they dispensed justice in a regime. This was no justice; this was wholesale slaughter. There could be no justification to kill so indiscriminately. But none of these bore the same anger as he felt towards himself.
He had been oblivious: reality is perception, he had read in one of the Alderman’s books; and his perception was of a happy, sheltered reality. He had, had no reason, or need for rebellion, not even when his family died. Then all he wanted was revenge; he had taken that, at a horrendous cost. Retribution had not returned the ones who he had loved, or saved the one he was in love with, it only left an empty feeling. He had, had everything taken from him; now he was like the others who had tried to make him understand. He knew that what he did as an individual had no overall effect for good or bad, but this wasn’t about an individual. Sometimes just by using that excuse, you supported evil. Maybe he was of royal blood; if he was then he had lost two families. He had lost his first and only love, his friends, his future, his inheritance, and each time he had stood by powerless. It took barely a moment from then, for his anger to turn to resolve. He vowed to wreak as much mischief as he could before his own time came to the end, as it surely would. Past reasoning for himself, he ran into the keep against the dwindling flow of humanity. Crying, as pitifully as he could, he imitated a husband searching for a lost wife. He stopped twice to give a description, made from his imagination of the fictitious woman, to uncaring guards; and then he was through the gates and began to take in the horrific scene. Everywhere laid bodies, or stains of pooled blood. The guard had begun dragging the corpses through arched open portals; beyond he could see stables.
Elsewhere guard were herding the injured towards him They shouted and hit with thick clubs at those who did not move fast enough for their liking irrespective of their ability to. Nicholas knew he would not pass these with his presence of a grieving spouse. For that reason the buildings at the far end and across the courtyard were out of his reach. The stables to his left had large arches at the courtyard level and they were mostly unguarded. Making his way quickly over, he stood leaning against the stonework at the side of one arch. He held his face in his hands sobbing and crying out for his wife, but by opening his fingers the interior of the building could be seen. It was as he surmised a stable, with a number of steeds but no guards that he could see. He fell to his knees in a fit of sobbing, and rolling onto his shoulder, he was around the edge of the archway in a blink of an eye.
Inside he was immediately on his feet for another; better look: while outside the crowd and soldiers passed by oblivious to his disappearance. Safe for the moment he confirmed that the stable was empty of people. Towards one corner were several empty stalls. He ran to one and buried himself in the straw ignoring the putrid stench his burrowing released. There he lay cursing the idle stable boy who had neglected his cleaning duties.
Sometime later again he heard a rumble and assumed the gate was closing, then silence. A while later still, he could hear shouting and shrieks of laughter in the distance.
He cautiously crept from his hiding place startling a horse that snorted angrily at him; carefully he looked into the courtyard. Torches and lanterns were set about the place giving just enough light to see across the open area. There was no one to be seen, and as he surmised the gate was shut. That he couldn’t see any guard didn’t mean there were none, at the very least there would be one or two in the winch room. The noise he could hear was coming from the opposite building. It was obvious a good number of guards were inside celebrating, as he could hear the clash of mugs, singing and disturbingly, some pitiful female screams.
The building facing the gate was quiet, but full of light. High up towards the top were several large windows that shone with a light that did not flicker and gave the impression of sunlight through a smoked glass. He went back in to the stable to check for other exits. There were a number, and he picked one at random. He felt luck was with him, as the choice did not lead to a saddle or feed store, but to a set of wide stairs. Nicholas crept up these, and a further three more before there came a noise as if someone higher up was coming down. A door led out of the stairwell and he slipped through. A long bare passage led either side of him He took the direction that would lead to the building that had been best lit.
A number of other doors went off, but at the end of the corridor one bore the message. 'Private Apartments: No Access Without Authority’. He decided he had all the authority he needed and went through. The passage on the
other side was quite different. Timber panels covered the walls, as did on occasion tapestries. In little alcoves, with bay windows looking over the square, were small settings of couches and other fine furnishings, but still no guards or staff. He ventured further and higher until having just passed what he assumed was a curtained off alcove, he heard the noise of someone approaching. Looking around, the nearest hiding place was behind the curtain; he stepped back and slipped through. Immediately Nicholas found himself to face with a serving girl; she looked at him in surprise; then her expression took on revulsion. Her eyes fell to his stained, inappropriate clothing and she opened her mouth.
Nicholas leapt towards her and clasped his right hand over her mouth, pulling her to him with his left arm. She couldn’t utter a noise, and her arms were pinned to her sides: but her legs were free, and she used them to good purpose, scraping the hard leather of her shoes down his shins. He momentarily released her, and instantly she brought up a hand between them. Fearing for his eyes he thrust his face into the nape of her neck for protection. Instead she tore at his hair. Nicholas lunged forward driving her up against a wall with enough force to drive all the breath from her body. He pressed himself as close
A New Leader Emerges Page 4
