Essentially Human (20 page)

Hours passed. Jarveski bled her dry of details, tacking back and forth in such a dizzying fashion, she had no idea what he could extrapolate from the mishmash of memories. The sun rose as the train slowed and they prepared to switch to the ferry. Hermione had insisted they stop in New York.

After meeting with dozens of men and women over the course of the day, they were left alone at a corner diner and told their driver would pick them up within the hour.

Jarveski blinked at her, removing his spectacles and using a napkin to wipe at them. “I am drained. But hopeful. They said very little but from what they asked, I’d ascertain they are prepared to seize control of Washington very soon.”

“I… That’s what you got from all of that?” She gazed at the menu, trying to find something that stirred her appetite. The body needed to be fed.

“What is your impression?”

Setting the menu down, she stared at the stained table top. “They can’t do anything for Sam. They don’t know where Hammer is or what his plans are.”

“I understand your focus is very narrow. But I don’t believe they intend to sacrifice Sam. Have faith.”

With a grimace, she snarled at him. “You should know faith isn’t something I have excess of. We need to move, this is getting us nowhere. I’m tired of being taken where others think I need to be.” She stood up. “I’ll get there on my own.”

Storming toward the door, she ran straight into a short man, very sturdy. He gripped her arms and looked into her face. Staring at him, she had a flash of memory. The stony faced one, who never reacted. One of Sam’s team?

“I’m Harold Dancer, and it’s time to leave for Virginia.”

Finally.

Ria watched as they planned. The memorial would be all but deserted at dusk. Drummond assured her that T’talin had been informed and was on the way. Hermione reiterated that the underground would be present.

Jarveski attempted to continue her therapy, assessing the music his program had played for her at the very end of their one session.

She didn’t care. Standing in the ruins of the Roosevelt Memorial, she gazed across the river at the Jefferson dome and worried what Hammer had done to Sam. She’d seen the jars, she’d seen the specimens and the files, the bulk of the experiments that man made on two living beings. Somehow, she knew they had been alive, knew the taste of their terror in the back of her throat. When she’d set them free and water had reeked of despair before the sigh of release.

The Aleena didn’t believe in an afterlife. They believed in recycling as the ultimate gift to the future. It was the closest they came to religion.

The heat of the day pressed down on her, making it difficult to stand straight. They’d fought to reach this place, avoiding patrols, testing the fake identifications the underground provided. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Drummond had cut her hair again, it was a choppy mess, and Hermione had used a spray color so that she now sported a mess of blond and red. No one would voluntarily do this to their head, so it proved a perfect cover.

For the first time, she wore tight fitting pants and heavy boots, black lipstick and heavy eyeliner completed the look. No one would recognize her. Dancer stuck to her side, wearing a bright red cloak, his hair sticking straight up like a Mohawk Indian.

They waited for a signal to join the rest at the Jefferson. He had Sam’s electric motorcycle and it would see them across the bridge.

Dancer didn’t say much. He’d driven them from New York, through security checks without a glance. She found him oddly restful. A very attentive man.

When he signaled it was time to move to the memorial, she strode behind him, pausing just long enough to glance at the stone representation of Roosevelt, in his wheelchair, Fala at his side. He’d been a man who faced adversity head on and seen the country through such changed. Wonder what he’d think of things now?

She climbed behind Dancer and held on as they turned toward the dome.

*****

Sam couldn’t block the pain, it overwhelmed any thoughts he had of resistance. Following Hammer from the car, up the stairs and into the memorial drove his mind into a shrieking black hole. There had to be a limit to how much pain a nervous system could handle before the brain simply shut down. Sweat poured down his back, he could feel it pool in his shoes.

The last two days he’d killed four men for Hammer. At least his body had. No sleep, no rest, constant tests and more questions. He found he could twist and answer a handful in a fashion that some bits of truth were hidden. Sanity was something he’d concealed, buried below the babbling fashion he’d answered questions with the last few hours.

Perhaps his brain truly was shutting down.

They pulled up to the Jefferson Memorial and he followed the evil bastard, his pet doctor and security expert, Scicle. As he took the steps the agony of putting one foot in front of the other lessened. It wasn’t relief, he analyzed. He could no longer feel his feet.

Unless Hammer told him to turn his head, he couldn’t. But he did have control over his eyes and recognized the presence of security people. Not just the normal guards, on alert for vandals, but the more casual appearing tourists. They looked the part, but instinct told him there was more going on. He didn’t question. He just prayed they were the right security.

Hermione stepped forward and stared at the contractor. Drummond was behind her and next to the doctor stood Jarveski. He didn’t see Ria.

“I expected you to keep your word. Montgomery, step forward.” Hammer’s confidence was so great, he didn’t even glance back to see if Sam followed orders.

Hermione glanced at him. “I never gave my word for anything.”

“If you do not turn the author over, Agent Montgomery will shoot himself, but first he will shoot you, and Dr. Drummond. I have total control over him.”

Pressure built inside of Sam’s head. He was already dead, they couldn’t turn Ria over to this monster.

“What have you done to him?” Jarveski stepped forward, frowning as he gazed at Sam.

“A delightful byproduct of Aleena glands. Where is the author?”

“Here.”

Her voice came from behind them. How he longed to turn and see her, say goodbye in some fashion, scream a warning, apologize…

Jarveski walked out of sight and returned, with Ria. She gazed at Sam, but Jarveski stood between them, talking to her in hushed tone. A tear ran down her face and she shook her head. Sam knew his mentor and could see the gesturing, the bend of his head, the deep breath he took as he continued to speak. But he couldn’t hear him?

A buzzing filled his head, and the sounds of the world disappeared. Sam blinked and turned his face slightly, trying to discern what he was hearing…

*****

Ria heard Jarveski, babbling about the program and what she had to remember. He appeared intent to communicate this to her. But now? Her eyes filled with Sam, shuddering, sweat pouring down his face. She gasped as a thread of blood trickled from his nose.

The next few moments blurred. Sam began to sag, Hammer shouted at him to shoot Agent Bales, but Sam’s eyes were locked on hers as he fell to his knees. The shot that rang out shocked her and Jarveski gasped, falling forward. She tried to hold him up as blood welled from his mouth.

“Ria! Ria! Don’t forget to…to play the program…to the end…” His eyes pled with her, then she saw the light fade from them. Focus fled and she realized he was gone.

Shots rang out around her. Screams echoed under the dome and chaos erupted as the real tourists fled. She eased the body of Sam’s mentor to one side and looked for Sam. He lay, flat on his back, a yard away. Not moving. Hammer wrestled with Hermione, while the two men he’d brought with him fled. The air seemed heavy and Ria found it hard to crawl to Sam. The light in the dome faded and the sound of automatic gunfire filled the structure.

Then, just as suddenly, all went quiet. Save for Hammer, screaming and cursing at Hermione. Ria cradled Sam’s head, ignoring the rest. His eyes were filled with blood, but they blinked and suddenly widened, focused on something above her.

She ducked, reading the panic in his iris. His arm shot upward and the knife Alfred Hammer gripped fell to the stones. Sam simply held on, but the struggle went on. Ria tried to shelter Sam’s torso as the chaos continued to erupt around her.

Sam’s breathing was labored, she could feel his heart struggling under her hand. His body was slick with sweat and blood…

“Agent Montgomery, you can let him go. He is dead.”

T’talin’s voice broke through the rest. Ria opened her eyes to find Aleena surrounded them. The man who’d haunted her dreams sprawled near them, Sam’s hand holding a crushed and bloody wrist so tight blood seeped between his fingers. T’talin himself slowly unpeeled his fingers as Milaar set her hands, in tentricle form around Sam’s head and crooned. Sam’s body abruptly went limp.

“No.” Ria gasped. “Sam! No!”

“We need to get him to the ship, now.” Milaar broke the silence.

“Sam, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Ria sobbed.

“No…” his voice was hoarse and barely audible. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…understand. Not your…fault.”

“Now!” Milaar took over. T’talin pulled Ria to her feet and held her at his side as Sam was taken away, down the steps and out to the blur of green at the river’s edge.

“Agent Bales, Dr. Drummond, we will do all we can.” T’talin surveyed the memorial, over a dozen people looked on, shock on their faces.

Drummond nodded. “Let me go with him.”

“Go. Anyone else?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m needed here. Let me know, please.”

Ria pulled away from T’talin and ran after Milaar.

Nothing else mattered.

*****

He could hear Milaar’s voice, through the bits of music breaking through the filters. The pain faded with her words and the numbness spread. That felt so good. He floated, simply thankful as little by little the burning acid sensations fled.

“Sam. Listen to me. I can save you, but Sam…it means accepting as Ria accepted…”

He didn’t understand, he couldn’t figure out what she meant.

Drummond’s voice broke through. “Sam, you have to agree. Let them save you. Sam!”

He nodded. He thought he nodded.

The voices around him grew. The last thing he registered was Ria, objecting…

Hermione stood, days later, at the bridge overlooking where the Aleena ship moored. It shouldn’t be there, the river wasn’t deep enough, but there it was. Drum said Monty was undergoing treatment and would be weeks recovering. Not just recovering. “I suspect he will be…different. Not like Ria, but uniquely Sam.”

She took a deep breath and looked beyond the ship, at Washington. Everything had changed. The capitol was under a new regime, one the underground had set up years in advance. The current president was under house arrest, congress had been sent home, the Supreme Court was in control. But not the Supreme Court appointed the last decade. Judges from around the country arrived, along with militias from each state and met to reshuffled the constitution, restore it to what it once was.

The coordination had been massive and very little blood was shed. Small skirmishes were reported in foreign embassies, but somehow…minimum lives were lost. Most of the credit was owed to the Aleena stepping in with the freeing of the internet. Communication flowed without filters, without manipulation.

Plus the presence of a massive alien ship sitting in the Potomac Tidal basin, non-threatening but very solidly present, stifled any panic. The ship was a lovely thing. An iridescent bubble that bobbed in the water, no hard angles, no weaponry bristling forth. The Aleena wandered the capitol mall, those that could take on a close to human appearance. They spoke to those who approached them. They appeared before the new Supreme Court, they presented evidence of the mass deception of the last fifty years.

She’d sat in on some of the hearings. She looked forward to the swearing in of the new president and the upcoming elections. The US Government wasn’t the only country undergoing change. The Aleena were thorough. Other capitols didn’t transition as smoothly. Aleena ships appeared in London, Paris and several South American ports and their presence stifled resistance. Especially that of military might.

Simply put, those who controlled the networks and computers, controlled the weapons. Technological advances proved the undoing of totalitarian regimes across the world.

Hermione leaned on the railing, wondering about Sam…

And Ria.

She hadn’t set foot on the ship, content to observe the revolution from the outside. Jermaine had joined his father and from Drum told her, he was completely besotted with the aliens. “Finally found a focus for all that brain power.” Drum had chuckled.

Her cell phone vibrated and she lifted it to her ear.

“Hey, H. You’re needed at the court.”

“Damn, okay, Harold. Be there in about thirty minutes. I’m on foot.”

“Meet you there.”

Dancer had taken over the security around the court and was doing an admirable job. She strolled along the parkway, arriving to find herself under pressure to accept an appointment as ambassador to the Aleena. She argued and fought and finally convinced them to accept Jermaine Drummond.

“I’m leaving for Canada as soon as my former commander is out of the woods. I haven’t seen my parents in fifteen years. When I get back, I’ll consider accepting employment.”

“Is there any news on Agent Montgomery’s condition?”

“No, ma’am. Other than he continues to show moderate improvement. The poison Hammer used on him can’t be removed, only treated.”

They continued to question her, wanting to know about the mysterious woman seen as the center of the drama at the Jefferson Memorial. Hermione told them nothing.

This was the one thing the Aleena had demanded, that Ria’s identity be kept as secret as possible. They were able to clear evidence of her from the computer files, but witnesses still came forward who had seen her in the months prior, with Agent Montgomery. The Aleena released a statement that a human had been their teacher but said nothing else.

Hermione hadn’t seen Ria since she’d followed Sam to the ship.

Three weeks later, she met Drummond for beer and pizza and asked about the author.

Drum drew a deep breath. “She objected strenuously to the technique Milaar employed to save Sam’s life. She was convinced that Sam would rather die. There was no changing her mind, and finally the decision was left up to Sam. He was coherent enough to agree. I haven’t seen Ria since.”

“Exactly what did Milaar do?”

“She implanted three tendrices, the smaller tentacles the Aleena sport along their back. They continually filter Sam’s blood and keep the poison from killing him. She believes they will eventually offer more than service. Much as they healed Ria and monitored her brain chemistry in the beginning, but have since become fully integrated into her human physiology.”

“Ria objected? Why?”

“She won’t explain, H. And until Sam is conscious, I can’t ask him. Something that happened between them the months they were together.”

“I know that Sam was furious as what the Aleena had done to Ria, more with their not telling her…” Hermione sipped at her beer and wondered. “Jarveski didn’t finish his therapy. Is she dangerous?”

“No, only to herself.” Drummond bit into the slice of pizza. “Damn, this is good. The Aleena are getting better at food now that they have actual human restaurants to take samples from. But the nothing looks right. Though the taste is improving.”

“We still don’t know who shot Jarveski. The forensics are a mess. It was either Sicle or Hammer.”

Drum looked up at her. “No, it was Sam. I haven’t told anyone what I saw, but I’m telling you. Hammer got off one command before T’talin was able to use the Aleena ear filters to block his voice. I’ve reviewed the records kept by Alfred’s pet mad scientist, who kept copious notes. The plans for Ria were…despicable. And were told to Sam, to solicit reaction. Hammer told Sam to get Ria. Jarveski stepped into the way.”

“You believe Sam interpreted ‘get’ as shoot?”

“He’d been using their words against them the entire time he was being subjected to the poison. You know him, Hermione. Would he surrender the woman he loved to the same agony he was undergoing? He’d already showed mercy to Admiral Jenkins.”

“You can’t know what he thought.”

“No, but I know him. He’ll deal with it. I have no doubt he was right.”

Hermione gazed at her beer mug, lifted it and emptied it. “Does Ria know?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you know how far Jarveski progressed with her?”

“I can’t access his files and T’talin won’t assist. He says they are coded for Sam’s eyes only.”

A monitor drew her attention, mounted on the wall to their left. It showed the release of former Congressman Neal Mahano from the Federal cells in Virginia. He’d been arrested more than a decade earlier for sedition and held without representation the entire time.

The Aleena had uncovered the truth of the charges, totally without basis. Mahano had begun to raise legitimate questions regarding the US role in the South Pacific and been silenced.

Drum raised his glass to the man. “Bet he’ll be our new president.”

“Good man for it.” Hermione nodded. “I want to see Ria.”

“Let’s go talk to T’talin.”

He listened to them but shook his head. “N’sila left two weeks ago. She wanted to see the country she once knew. She is safe. She called it a ‘walkabout’. Though she mostly travels by bus and train.”

Hermione sighed. “When will Sam be awake?”

“Milaar believes another two weeks.”

“Then I guess we wait.”

*****

Ria spent two months traveling across the country she’d once called her own. The money from the Aleena enabled her to hire a car, but she often took buses, sitting near windows and staring out at the passing scenery. She would eventually return to the ship, but first, she wanted to see the places she’d enjoyed before she died.

The Grand Canyon, still incredible. The Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Yosemite. Whichever way the next bus turned, she went with it, crisscrossing the western United States over and over. Nothing on the east coast tempted her.

Sam remained in Virginia, recovering from his brush with death, while the Aleena worked at establishing a relationship with the new government. Before she left, Sam told her he didn’t care that she wasn’t wholly human. But his reaction alongside the road, months ago, proved the lie of that statement. One didn’t react with nausea and not care.

It didn’t matter, she’d return to the ship and remain. If she stayed on land, eventually her identity would be revealed and dealing with that sort of celebrity wasn’t on her new life list. At present she was the unknown woman, credited with teaching the Aleena about humans.

She’d laugh, but somehow she didn’t find it funny. Some part of her thought she should.

One thing that thrilled her was the state of the parks. Evidently, when the possibilities of traveling to distant locations faded, the locals took up the care of the parks. And the politicians adopted the philosophy that it was best to keep the voters happy and show them some sign that not all the tax monies went to fund the war on terror.

Again and again, she found automated systems able to keep track of visitors, make certain they didn’t become lost on trails, provide helpful information and the like. Few actual rangers were visible, too expensive, she assumed. It surprised her not to see more signs of vandalism, but perhaps the complication of life had seen that tendency fade away. The parks had shuttle services to trail heads, accommodations that were simple but clean. Even cafeterias and meal plans that came with staying. She took tours on occasion. Slept outside when the weather was amiable.

And always, she had her music player. The daylight hours were spent walking beneath trees, or climbing rocks, gazing out at vast canyons of twisted rock, and letting the sounds of the natural world fill the gaping emptiness inside. Nights, she curled on a bed, or rode a bus, music her only companion. She took care what selections she made, staying distant from those that triggered a deep melancholy. More often than not, classical compositions calmed her brain, adding to the appreciation for the vistas unfolding before her.

Few fellow passengers attempted to talk with her. She assumed her face warned them off, though that wasn’t done on purpose. Just as pleased to not be subject to societal structure, she didn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

One night, she hiked out to a camper’s cabin, deep inside Bryce National Park and spent the hours of darkness dancing. The spires made her feel as if surrounded by water and she imagined being back aboard the ship, safe and before…before things with Sam went sour.

Ria assumed the Aleena, or members of Sam’s team, were tracking her. She didn’t care and used her credit chits not worrying about electronic footprints. The surveillance cameras were still operational in most public places, though some had been pulled free, or vandalized in the days following the revelations of how the country had been manipulated. Ria didn’t try to avoid them.

When she’d left Washington, she’d told T’talin why she wanted to take this trip and the leader of the aliens didn’t object. He’d reached up and touched her hair, pulling one of the tendrices free from her hair braid. She’d watched it coil about his finger, holding herself still as it appeared to caress that appendage.

“I am always with you, Ria. I gave you these to save you, not tear you apart.”

“I know, T’talin. You have always saved me. Tell him I am sorry.”

“I do not believe you should leave. He will recover.” He studied her, eyes shifting between human and Aleena.

“I trust that. But I cannot face his revulsion again. He will have a difficult time adjusting to life with three tendrices. I am a reminder he doesn’t need.” Slowly, the mini tentacle withdrew and disappeared into her hair. T’talin nodded.

She stuffed a backpack with casual clothing and headed westward. The coast wasn’t a destination. The deep fear of what seeing the Pacific could do to her held sway. Thoughts of San Diego haunted her. But she did want to see the southwest and the mountains, canyons and forests of her youth.

Keeping track of the days wasn’t something she tried to do, but as weeks passed, she noted the change of the seasons and headed for the dormant volcanos of the Pacific Northwest. The innkeeper at the Crater Lake lodge commented how they’d be closing for the season in a few weeks. “Earlier if the snowfall comes. It doesn’t always anymore.”

She’d nodded and asked if there was a park shuttle service to Mt. Lassen.

“Yes. Would you like me to make reservations? It’s one of the totally automated ones.”

“Thank you.”

“And the lodge?”

“Yes. Three nights, please.”

The bearded man nodded, said he’d take care of it and left her to wander outside and stare down at the blue jewel of the lake, tucked deep in the sheer walls of the crater. One day, perhaps she could talk the Aleena into exploring the depths of the lake with one of their scout ships. The quiet surrounded her, dove into her head and quieted the flutters that pressed against her when the bus drew too close to the Pacific. Rationally, she knew there was no danger of seeing the ocean from Crater Lake, but she was finding her rational mind had lost the tight grip it once held on her thoughts.

A flutter of wings drew her attention. A large raven hovered for a moment on the rising air current, then landed on a shrub to stare at her. Its beak opened once, then again, but it made no sound. She smiled slightly at the ruffle of feathers at its neck, envisioning a great Elizabethan collar framing those obsidian black eyes.