Chains of Freedom (24 page)

RJ whispered to her companions. "Those are Elites."

"So," Alexi whispered back.

"So, there weren't supposed to be any Elites in this caravan. So, what do you think of woman's intuition now, smartass?"

"What do we do?" David asked.

"We don't have a choice now," RJ said. "The men who stayed to guard the shipment aren't likely to sit down there or move on and forget about us. We've got to go on as planned. You know, sometimes—not very often, mind you—but sometimes I hate being right."

They ran in to clean up the remaining personnel. It wasn't difficult. The men that had been left behind were only first-class soldiers. Realizing that the Elites were gone, most of them were too busy deciding whether to bolt, or not to put up much of a fight. They were easy prey for the three rebels, who had killing down to a science.

When the last man fell, Alexi looked at RJ and laughed. He walked to the back of the box-shaped supply truck and took hold of the handle. "See, RJ? I told you. Nothing to worry about."

The door flew open with such force that it sent Alexi flying through the air for twenty feet. He landed on his head and was still.

David looked at the mammoth form that filled the doorway. "GSH," he breathed.

It seemed to survey the situation; then it jumped to the ground.

"Holy shit!" David screamed, then fired the projectile weapon he held in his fist.

It didn't do any good. The bullets hit the GSH, balled up, and fell off, inflicting little more than a few minor bruises. It turned its massive head to face David, and slowly raised the laser it held in its hand to level it at David's head.

"Oh, holy shit! Holy shit!" He continued to fire as he began running backwards as fast as he could.

The GSH was preoccupied with David. RJ watched. Just as the GSH prepared to shoot David, she fired. The laser hit it in the head. It groaned and fell to its knees.

David dove behind a vehicle.

RJ fired again, this time hitting it in the arm.

It swung its weapon towards where she'd been, but she was gone. It got to its feet. It wasn't particularly hurt, but it was for sure pissed off. It looked around for RJ, but obviously hadn't forgotten about David. She was nowhere to be seen. That meant there was only one place she could be. With a mighty leap, the GSH landed on top of the truck.

RJ had anticipated this move. She was lying on the other end of the truck. The moment the GSHs feet hit, she fired the laser. The bolt struck it in the chest, and threw it off the truck. It landed with a thud that seemed to shake the earth. Still the monster got up.

David threw down his projectile weapon. It was useless now. He usually felt more comfortable with it; for dropping humans it was damn near as effective as a laser. Fortunately, he hadn't stopped carrying a laser. It was under his arm in . . . Where was it? He looked around quickly. There it was, on the ground more than ten feet out of his reach. It must have fallen out of the holster while he was running. With a GSH lurking about, that ten feet might as well have been ten miles. David steeled himself. RJ needed his help. He made a dash for the weapon.

The GSH got shakily to its feet. It saw David and fired just as RJ landed on its back, knocking it off balance.

David's leg buckled and he hit the ground hard. He retained enough sense to grab the laser as he pulled himself back behind the vehicle. The pain finally hit him, and he looked at what was left of his leg. Tears obscured his vision, but he could still see that at least half the flesh of his right leg was gone. The smell was awful. It was all over now—his quest, his part in the rebellion. His life was going to end here, on a dusty stretch of road, at the top of a mountain he didn't even know the name of. He couldn't see RJ or the GSH now, but he could hear the struggle. He would make sure RJ won. He would make sure the rebellion didn't die here on this road with him.

RJ jumped on the GSH, knife in hand. Her intention was to sever his jugular vein.

Not too surprisingly, the GSH objected, and was trying to redirect the knife in question to a similar point on RJ's throat. On most days, it would have been no contest. The GSH was three times RJ's size and much stronger, but it had taken a lot of damage from her laser. Enough that it wasn't repairing itself as fast as it should have been.

They rolled around and around. It on top, her on top, like some bizarre mating ritual which seemed to last for hours. RJ realized that the struggle could go on long enough for the thing to repair itself. She had to make her move, and she had to do it quickly.

David saw his chance. He fired.

The laser hit the back of the GSHs head, the monster lost its grip, and RJ cut its throat. Bright red blood poured out over her. She threw him off, got up and stood watching as its struggles grew weaker and finally ceased. RJ walked over to where David was leaning against one of the vehicles. She patted him on the back, and he collapsed to the ground. After she picked him up and set him against the wheel of the truck, she looked at his leg and said nothing.

"Kill me, RJ," David said, biting on his lip to fight the pain.

"Cure you or kill you," she said thoughtfully. "There isn't any in between," she pulled the black leather pouch from her pocket and extracted the syringe.

"What are you doing?" David asked through gritted teeth.

"For once in your life could you just not ask questions?" She stabbed the needle into her arm and started to draw a syringe of blood.

"What the hell are you doing?" David demanded.

"Something I shouldn't. Now shut the fuck up." The syringe was full; she took it out. "Make a fist," she ordered.

David gave her a skeptical look.

"It will either work or you'll be dead. Either way we're never going to talk about it again. Now just make a fist."

He did, and she shoved the needle into his vein and emptied the syringe. She withdrew the empty needle and carefully packed it away.

At first, he felt nothing. Then there was a tingling. Then nothing again. Nothing at all—not even pain. He looked at his leg. The flesh of the wound began to bubble, and—to his amazement—it began to rebuild itself. He didn't know how much time passed, but it couldn't have been long. His leg was healed. New flesh and skin covered the wound. Oh, it wasn't exactly healthy-looking tissue; the muscle tone was nonexistent, and the skin was white and bare. But he had a leg again. He looked at RJ and started to speak.

RJ smiled her most rakish smile. "I told you, and I meant it. We're never going to talk about it," she stood up. "Stay still. I'm going to make sure there aren't any more of them lurking about."

"But . . . how . . ."

RJ just shook her head and walked away.

He watched her go. She wasn't human. Alexi had said she was an Argy hybrid. David hadn't believed it, but it must be true, because RJ was
definitely
not human.

"They
what
?" Jessica screamed at the messenger.

The man gulped and pulled at his collar before answering. "They killed everyone in the caravan, including the GSH."

"How?" Right bellowed in disbelief. "How did they kill the GSH?"

"What about the follow-up troops?" Jessica asked, ignoring Right.

"An extensive search of the area failed to turn up any sign of the rebels."

Jessica gritted her teeth. She definitely would have been all for the ancient custom of running the bearer of bad news through with a sword. "And I suppose that the roadblocks were just as ineffective," she said coolly.

"Correct, Senator." The man cringed as he said it.

Jessica drew a long, shuddering breath, and then completely lost her cool. "Fucking idiots! We had her in our hands, and they let her slip through their feeble fingers!"

"How do you suppose they killed the GSH?" Right asked again.

Jessica knew how, and she didn't want to hear that question again. She stood up and rested her fists on her desk, looking down at Right.

"I don't care how they killed the fucking GSH!" she screamed. "What I care about is that RJ is still at large, and now she knows that we know that she has the box. GSHs are expendable, Right. They are made to fight and die. So one is dead. Does it matter whether they ripped out its throat or shot it a thousand times with a laser?"

"If they can kill a GSH . . ." Right started.

"What, Right? If they can kill a GSH, what? They're dangerous! Now, there's something we didn't know before!" She sat down heavily and took a deep, cleansing breath. She turned her attention back to the messenger.

"I don't want anything left undone this time. I want every inch of ground for a ten-mile radius analyzed till it's bleached out white. I want everyone questioned—workers, soldiers, pigs, chickens and goats. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Senator," he stood there, waiting to be dismissed.

Jessica lost her cool again. "This week, if you don't mind too much, dumbass!"

The man practically ran from the room.

"What do you hope to find?" Right asked carefully.

"I have no idea. Something that might give us a clue as to where her base of operations is." She looked at the maps placed in front of her, and suddenly it hit her. It was so obvious she could have kicked herself for not figuring it out sooner. She stood up abruptly and started out of the room.

"Jessy, where are you going?" Right asked. She turned to look at him with a wry smile on her face.

"In my grief, I have become as stupid as everyone else. I should be back in a few hours."

Dr. Stewart tapped on his desk, pondering his latest dilemma. "So, Poley, what do you think? Should I have the chicken or the tuna?"

"The chicken looks very nice, sir," Poley answered attentively.

"Think I'll have the tuna." He picked up the sandwich, took a bite and made a face. "On second thought, the chicken does look nice." He put down the sandwich he held and picked up the other one.

Jessica swept into the lab as if she belonged there. Before she could speak, Stewart chimed in, "So, J-6, so good that you could drop in. Sit down and have a sandwich. It's hardly been used."

"I'm not in the mood for your shit, old man . . ."

"It's tuna," Stewart corrected.

"It has suddenly occurred to me that I'm the one you thought was dead. Your reaction to me was one of shock. So, first that tells me that I'm not supposed to exist, and second that tells me that she and I are
not
exactly the same," Jessica announced smugly.

"Oh, very good, J-6." He set his sandwich down and started to clap. "Slow, but good."

"I'm glad you're amused," she said acidly. "Now, if you'll just tell me everything you know about RJ."

"Come now, J-6. Don't be unreasonable. You know that would be detrimental to my experiment." Stewart clicked his tongue. "You wouldn't want an unfair advantage, would you?"

"She is working against the Reliance. By helping her, you are betraying the Reliance," Jessica reminded him.

"I'm not helping her. Sure you won't have the tuna?"

"Damn it, Stewart . . ."

"Call me Dad," Stewart said with a smile. Jessica took him by the collar and shoved him against his workbench. She gave him her most terrifying look, and was more than a little perturbed when he refused to be frightened.

"Tell me everything you know about RJ, or I'll pull your head off," Jessica snarled.

Stewart laughed in her face. "So, pull my head off if it pleases you. I'm an old man. It's been a long time since I feared death."

"Tell me!" She shook him till his dentures rattled.

"No." Stewart said as plainly as he could under the circumstances.

Jessica let him go. It was no bluff. He really wasn't afraid of death. Jessica looked at the robot. She smiled, then walked over and grabbed hold of his arm.

"What are you doing?" Stewart demanded.

Jessica's smile broadened. "As I thought. You care more for this metal man than you care for yourself. Tell me all you know about RJ, or I'll rip this thing apart. And believe me, I'll know if you're lying."

"You didn't last time," Stewart said, still cocky.

"I was distraught last time. I'm not now." She twisted the robot's arm. "It wouldn't be hard for me to tear your favorite toy apart."

"I don't know any more than you do. In fact, I probably know less."

"You can do better than that, Stewart. How did you know I wasn't RJ?" Jessica twisted harder on the robot's arm, and this time he yelped.

"She's bigger that you are," Stewart said, grudgingly.

"And?"

"She had a deformity caused by an overdose of growth hormone. Her right arm jerks."