Zero's Return (2 page)

The colonel
snorted in complete disdain.  “I doubt that.  My techs—”

“—would die
too,” Marie interrupted coldly.  “You’re playing with fire, Colonel.”

The colonel
laughed and rapped sharply on the thick leaden door separating them from the
containment area.  The sound diffused with the sheer density of the metal.  The
colonel gave her a smug look.  “He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Marie glared,
but said nothing.

“If he did,” the
colonel said.  “He would have killed us a long time ago.”

“You don’t know
that,” Marie said, remembering the curled ball of misery she had found so many
times after a visit to the Dark Room.  “Maybe he doesn’t like to kill.”

The colonel’s
gaze sharpened, as if he were a hound breeder and she had suggested his dogs
didn’t like to hunt.  He turned to Lieutenant Carter abruptly.  “Collect the
experiment and take him to the Dark Room.  Our visitors are waiting in the
observation booth.”

As the tech went
to get the necessary equipment, Marie fought another wave of dread. 
Reluctantly, she asked, “What’s he going to fight this time?”

The colonel’s
wormy lips twisted again.  “An experiment from another lab.”

Marie had
expected as much, but she stiffened anyway.  “Twelve-A represents thirty-two
turns of work.  If you want a friendly competition for the generals’ viewing
pleasure, go get one of the Eleven-series to be your gladiator.  Anything
Twelve-series and above shouldn’t be risked.”

The colonel gave
her a humorless smile.  “There is nothing friendly about it.  The lab that
fails today loses its funding.  If we lose our funding, every experiment will
be killed and our data destroyed.  We need to win.  That’s why I chose him.”

For a moment,
she thought the humorless, hardass shit was joking.  When Marie blinked and saw
the sincerity in his beady black eyes, however, it suddenly felt like all the
energy of her body rushed out her feet.  Softly, she whispered, “They would
kill them all?”

The colonel
inclined his head.  “Now you see why it must be Twelve-A.”

“Why?” she
whispered.

The colonel gave
her a long look before he shrugged and said, “The bureaucrats got cold feet. 
We had someone hack into our system.  We’re pretty sure it was Peacemakers. 
The board hopes we can stall them for a few years, and the fewer active labs we
have, the better our chances will be of going undiscovered.”

“Can’t we
combine the labs?” Marie blurted.  “Throw them all into one building?”

The colonel
shook his head.  “We’ve established the genetic lines won’t fight each other if
they’re kept in the same building.”

Remembering the
horrible child deathmatches and psychopathic mind-screwing that Colonel Codgson
had used to determine that, Marie felt sick.  In all, Codgson and his military
fuck-ups had killed over three quarters of their non-cull subjects, more or
less as target practice for the others.  “Then maybe we could find some other
means to determine the success of the experiments,” Marie said quickly.  Her
chest was aching now.  To lose so many lives, so many years of work…  “Surely
we can figure something out.  Something that does not endanger their lives. 
There is evidence that latent brain activity is a clear indicator of—”

“We’re
constructing a
war
, Doctor,” the colonel bit out, bristling like an
angry dog.  “The alien Congress will bathe in its own blood before it realizes
it can no longer hold us.  Twelve-A and his kind represent Earth’s hope for
independence, and it will take many of their deaths to see it happen.”  He gave
her his zealot’s smile—the one that had made her so excited at her
interview—and said, “
I’m
willing to make the sacrifice.  Are you?”

What kind of
stupid question is that?
Marie thought, appalled.  With the colonel,
everything was either black or white.  In his mind, there
was
no other
alternative.  She bit down the urge to tell him he wasn’t sacrificing anything,
then decided to try a different tack, while she still had time to salvage her
life’s work.  “You’ve used Twelve-A three times in the last month.  Why not
Ten-F?”

Colonel Codgson
gave her a flat look full of patronizing amusement.  “You want to place all of
their lives on
her
?”

Marie licked her
lips.  Ten-F, though potent, was insane.  She had fingernail scars down her
face from where she’d tried to take out her own eyes, and she was missing her
pinkie fingers from where she’d gnawed them off after her last visit to the
Dark Room. 

“Colonel,” she
began tentatively, “you don’t stay to see them after their experiences in the
Dark Room.  It’s obviously very traumatic for the minders, and you’ve already
used Twelve-A many more times than my recommendations allow.  I want you to
retire him.  He’s too valuable to the project for any more games.”

The colonel’s
eyes narrowed.  “This…”  he flicked lint off of his uniform jacket, “…is not a
game.”  He gave her a glacial smile.  “It’s war.”  When Marie started to
retort, he cut her off with a big, upraised hand.  “Go find out what’s taking
Lieutenant Carter so long.  I told them noon sharp.”  The colonel glanced at
his big gold wristwatch and his mouth twisted in irritation.  “We’re two minutes
behind already.”  Without another word, he turned sharply and strode off in the
direction of the Dark Room, hard black boot-heels clicking briskly on the white
tile as he departed.

Frustrated,
Marie went looking for Carter. 

She found the
lieutenant slumped on the floor of the containment corridor outside Twelve-A’s
cage, the behavioral adaptor still clasped in her limp hand, unused.

“You
killed
her?!” Marie cried, rushing up to kneel beside the fallen woman.

Dr. Carter had a
pulse.  Relieved, Marie turned back to the experiment, intending to grab the
adaptor and make her displeasure known.

Cold blue eyes
met her stare, unwavering.  Twelve-A was only two feet away, squatting naked
behind the bars, watching her.  He was angry.

I’m not
fighting.

Marie stumbled
away from him, her own vulnerability in the situation hitting her like a
sledgehammer.  She automatically glanced at the fallen behavioral adaptor, then
froze when she saw the young blond man following her motions with his eyes, a
grim twist to his lips.  Twelve-A knew what she was thinking.  He’d never let
her use it.

Marie pulled her
hand away slowly, so he could see it.  Twelve-A watched her in silence, his
intelligent blue eyes sliding back up her arm to rest on her face.  Like most
of the other experiments, the in-breeding and line-breeding required to
emphasize the Army’s desired traits—as well as the small infusions of alien
blood—had left him with deformities.  Most apparent on Twelve-A were the
unsightly, almost Vulcan ears that seemed to stand out from his head in
defiance.

At least he
wasn’t missing feet, or born with his legs fused together.  Marie had seen
those, and it had been on her orders they had been destroyed, just as it had
been her orders to let Twelve-A live at infancy, despite his physical
irregularities.

I like my
ears
, Twelve-A told her, frowning.  He touched one with a slender finger.

They almost
got you killed,
Marie thought, watching the minder. 
I saw them and
almost culled you like the rest.

Twelve-A snorted
and released his ear. 
I wouldn’t have let you.

Once again
reminded that he could hear everything as crystal-clear as if she’d spoken her
thoughts aloud, Marie swallowed.  Carefully, she said, “You need to fight.  If
our lab fails this match, they’ll all die.”  She gestured at the other
experiments.  “Codgson says there’s some sort of funding shortage.  Do you want
them all to die?”

Twelve-A’s
childlike blue eyes darkened immediately.  They flickered toward the other
experiments, then back at her, full of accusation. 
They’re miserable.  You
treat them like animals.  They’re better off dead.

In that moment,
Marie realized that Twelve-A, out of all of the experiments they kept down here
in the dark, actually
knew
what it meant to be Human.  And, with that
realization, she understood that he could not only kill her and her comrades,
but he could also kill his own kind.  With a thought. 

A thought he was
even then debating.

“No!”  After
twenty-seven years of living her work, foregoing her personal life for long
hours at the lab, overseeing the births of each and every batch, the
experiments had become Marie’s children.  At the thought of losing them, she
completely forgot the history of the man in front of her as her heart rushed
out to them.  On instinct, she reached through the bars to touch his knee. 
“Things will get better, Twelve-A,” she begged of him.  “Please don’t hurt
them.”

As soon as she
touched his leg, Twelve-A recoiled, drawing deeper into his cell to glare at
her. 
You can’t lie to me.
 

“I’m not,” Marie
promised.  “Just one more time.  I’ll make sure you won’t have to do it again. 
Ever.  You understand?  Just one more time.  We’ll secure the funding and I’ll
put in a request directly to the Board.  They won’t make you fight anymore. 
You’re too important to them, and I can make them see that.  I just need some
time.”

Twelve-A glanced
to the side, away from her, pain etched in his young face.  For long moments,
he said nothing.  His eyes fell on the other cages once more, and for what felt
like ages, he seemed to consider. 

One thought,
Marie thought, her heart pounding. 
It would just take him one thought…

Then, with great
reluctance, Twelve-A turned back to her with a look that chilled her to the
bone. 
Take me to the Dark Room.

#

“Watch closely,”
Colonel Codgson said, addressing the visitors.  “See how he paces?  Our
experiments show an innate aggression…a drive to fight.  He’s anticipating the
kill.”

Marie watched
with her back to the colonel, recognizing Twelve-A’s pacing for what it really
was—anger.

“Is the
experiment contained?” one of the visitors demanded.  A nasal, gray-haired
woman pointed at the large observation station in the corner, indicating the
two technicians monitoring it.  “Are they all that stand between us and that
monster?”

In the Dark Room,
Twelve-A stopped and gave the observation booth a small frown before continuing
to pace.  The others did not notice, but Marie’s heart clenched.

He knows
we’re here,
she thought, horrified. 
And he’s listening.
  Two things
that, with the specially-treated glass and billions of credits of electronics
shielding the place, shouldn’t have been possible.

“We’re in
absolutely no danger,” Colonel Codgson replied, with the surety of the truly
mad.  As he had done to Marie, he rapped his precious leaded walls with a
knuckle.  “The walls are a foot and a half of lead-ceramic composite.  Even the
windows are leaded.  His abilities cannot penetrate.”

“Has this been
proven?” a woman in a sharp black pantsuit demanded, watching Twelve-A closely.

“Beyond a
doubt,” Colonel Codgson replied, beaming her that sociopathic smile.  He had
tousled his thick silvered hair—his one concession to his bible of
‘regulations’—in the bathroom a few minutes before, and the room stank of his
freshly-applied cologne.  Seeing the handsome, chiseled face that had won over
a hundred female officials before her, the pantsuit woman’s rigid face melted a
little and she gave him a shy grin.  Seeing it, Marie thought she would be
sick. 

On the other
side of the glass, the Dark Room doors opened and a second experiment, a naked
redheaded woman, was thrust inside.

The fight ended
as swiftly and undramatically as they always did with Twelve-A.  He simply
walked up to the other experiment, gently took her trembling chin into his
hands, brushed the tears from her cheeks, touched his forehead to hers, and his
opponent collapsed.

“Amazing,” the
nasal woman said, though she did not sound very amazed.  “That’s it?  Why
didn’t they fight?”

“No one can
fight Twelve-A,” Colonel Codgson said, pride seeping through his voice, coating
the walls of the room.  “He is our finest creation.”

Again, Marie
thought she saw Twelve-A glance in their direction, but a shaking Lieutenant
Carter was already leading the experiment from the room, her fist wrapped so
tightly around her portable behavioral adaptor that her knuckles were white. 
The moment Twelve-A looked at her with something akin to apology, Lieutenant
Carter twisted the dial and made him scream.

“He takes the
behavior modification well,” the pantsuit woman noted, as Twelve-A’s naked body
twisted on the smooth white floor in agony.  “What’s the range on his chip?”

“Two miles,”
Colonel Codgson replied.  “More with a booster.”

“We’ll need more
distance,” the pantsuit woman noted.  She gave Codgson a sideways look.  “You
have a personal number I can use to contact you for funding logistics?”

“I’m
very
busy,” Codgson replied.  “But I might have an hour or two tonight to
discuss…logistics.”

The pantsuit
woman’s face brightened before she quickly hid it with a cough.  “I’ve got
another night here in town before I fly back to DC.  Perhaps we could discuss
it in person…?”

“I definitely
prefer face-to-face,” Codgson replied, with that winning smile.

The pantsuit
woman blushed.

Marie ignored
the revolting interchange that followed, her eyes instead fixed on the naked
figure writhing on the floor before dozens of indifferent faces, a sickness
pooling in her stomach.  Lieutenant Carter had never used the behavioral unit
before, but now she used it longer than necessary, keeping Twelve-A screaming
for long minutes as she panted, an almost triumphant look on her face.  Only
after Twelve-A had stopped struggling and simply devolved into unintelligible
sobs did she switch off the unit and end his torment.