A Question of Will (26 page)

The Mechanic opened the hatch and allowed the dog called Smokey to run loose. They left a patch of grass open through the floor of the building, a feat made simpler by the fact that the entire structure was built of intelligent machines. He also adjusted the building to allow in more sunlight, and Smokey indulged herself, sleeping on the grass as the rays warmed her dark fur. Pets weren’t officially disallowed in the community, but were avoided as a common practice, so the Mechanic made do for Smokey as best he could under the circumstances.

His other house guest would not be quite so pleasant. He would need to prepare the appropriate materials before releasing the man from the trunk.

In the rear seat of the craft were two cylinders, each about two feet tall and roughly a foot in diameter. These machines, like the vehicle they were in, were not composed of nanos, and as such were irreplaceable. He moved to the first of the machines, which was used to generate new nanos, and adjusted the settings to create a small, highly specialized batch of fifty million of the tiny devices. This batch of machines was unique, as he’d need to override a key portion of the standard code operating all of the other nanos, in order for them to perform the task he required.

Most of the nanos he generated with his device were general purpose machines used to perform various tasks by Alliance members who owned them — such as shaping the buildings they lived in and the clothing they wore — and used the standard operating system coding image. That image could be modified to provide machines with more specialized, internal functions. There were images to create Purge nanos, immune system supplements, injury repair, sleep enhancers, and more. To date, the most challenging code image he’d built had been for the internal nanos that served as the communication channel between the brain and the general purpose nanos. The challenge there was ensuring that no one could use or control nanos not owned by them. Alliance members could “gift” each other nanos if it was necessary, but most simply came to him to produce more if there was a true need. The gifting process worked well for temporary projects, and since the Alliance worked to avoid waste, he usually only made a standard batch for new members and regular batches for the Purge.

This set would be the most unique of the unique, building on the internal communication nanos code set. He only expected to create one batch of this type. Ever.

It had taken time to get the code change just right, and he’d been working on it almost without interruption since The Assassin had been captured. He hadn’t gotten a lot of support for his idea since it was so unique and high risk, but he intended to press on and go through with it, knowing that it was a critical piece of the future. He was so close he could almost taste it. He used his general purpose nanos to form a small drinking glass to hold the custom nanos created just for The Assassin.

It was time to get the test subject.

The Mechanic marched to the rear of the vehicle and kicked the panel, which opened to reveal The Assassin, a highly trained and now highly irritated killing machine, who had seen better days. The Mechanic winced at the smell of the vomit inside the compartment; apparently, all of the changes of direction during the flight hadn’t been pleasant for his guest.

The Assassin groaned and rolled out of the trunk, so disoriented that he forgot that it was several feet off the ground. Perhaps, given his nausea, he didn’t care. The Assassin hit the white surface with a resounding thud, and groaned again. The Mechanic chuckled. If he hadn’t known better, he would have interpreted the man’s actions as those of a drunk.

On hearing the chuckle, The Assassin snapped off an intense stream of profanity.

“Your language suggests to me that you may not like my accommodations,” the Mechanic stated, unable to resist adding an air of emotional trauma to his tone.

“The current accommodations are reasonably spacious, if a bit restrictive on freedom,” The Assassin replied, his voice strengthening as his equilibrium returned.. “The accommodations just now ended resembled a coffin.”

“I bow to your expertise on that front,” the Mechanic said, bowing.

“What do you want from me?” The Assassin snapped, his frustration boiling over. “Why do you injure me and then heal me? If you want me dead, why not execute me and be done with it? Surely you realize that the instant I’m free of these restraints, free of this room, I’ll seek all of you out and kill you, right? So what do you want from me that you keep me alive, knowing that doing so means risking
your
lives?”

“I want you to be my spy at Aliomenti Headquarters,” the Mechanic said, his voice quiet.

The Assassin gaped at him for a moment, and then enjoyed a loud laugh at the Mechanic’s expense. “You can’t seriously believe I’d do that, do you? Or are you that big a fool? I admit that is a possibility; since you were the one foolish enough to leave me with my weapon. I promise that should your concentration wane for even a moment, long enough to crack that Energy shield you use on me, I will put you to the sword, you and that dog. Yes, Mechanic, you may come back here one day and find your smelly canine butchered in your home. I won’t soon forget, and will never forgive, the shoddy treatment I’ve been given here.”

“Your complaints evoke little sympathy in me, as you’ve just expressed an earnest desire to kill me. You may recall that you were seized and brought here following your attempt on the lives of the family of one of our Alliance members here, and I dare say you won’t win sympathy there either.”

The Assassin stared at him. “Stark is
here
? But the Hunters were after him.”

“They, like you, failed in their mission. Will Stark was our extraction target that night, and we were successful. You were a nice bonus.”

The Assassin glared at him. “How do you know I failed to kill them?”

“You talk in your sleep. Nasty habit you should work on.”

“What happened to them?”

“What?”

“What. Happened. To. Them.” He paused, and upon receiving no answer, continued. “The woman. The boy. How did they escape?”

“How would you expect me to know that? I wasn’t part of the rescue team. I choose to believe that the woman and the boy — and our friend Smokey here — beat up the famed Assassin, and fled the house he’d set on fire, laughing all the way.”

The Assassin snorted. “Hardly. Some powerful Aliomenti teleported them. I assume Stark did it before the Hunters trapped him; if Stark is here, I’m even more convinced that’s the case.”

The Mechanic shrugged. “You have your story, I have mine.”

The Assassin rolled his eyes and palmed his sword. “I repeat myself: what do you want from me?”

“I have already answered that question. You are to become my spy — my eyes, my ears, my hands — inside the Aliomenti Headquarters. You will provide me with the information I need, and as I direct you, you will act. You will betray nothing you may have learned here to those at the Headquarters.”

“On the contrary. I know that Will Stark is here. That’s useful information for the Leader, sufficient to earn pardon for my failures that night.”

“The Leader already knows. Why else do you suppose we were attacked?”

“It’s a moot point regardless. I will not do as you wish. You have no hold over me strong enough that you can compel me.”

“I rather disagree,” the Mechanic replied. He directed his general nanos to form an exoskeleton around The Assassin, rendering the man immobile. The hatred in The Assassin’s gaze was haunting; even though the Mechanic knew he could not be harmed, the malevolence in those blood-red eyes startled him. He did not doubt that, at this very moment, The Assassin would strike him dead if the opportunity presented itself.

The Mechanic picked up the concoction of specialty nanos and moved to The Assassin. “Bottoms up!” he said, giving The Assassin an evil look that mirrored the one the captive had leveled at him a moment earlier. He directed the exoskeleton to open the man’s mouth and hold his tongue down, which would force the man to swallow. The Mechanic poured the solution down the man’s throat, watching The Assassin’s glare change from one of hatred to one of fear. He’d seen what these potions could do already in terms of healing injuries, and no doubt understood that the Alliance could create something far more frightening if they chose. Once the fluid reached the man’s throat, the Mechanic forced his mouth closed to ensure that the man swallowed the fluid, preventing him from coughing it back up.

It was a cosmetic gesture to ensure that The Assassin believed it was a liquid formula. In reality, the machines had made their way to his brain upon entering his mouth, and he needn’t have waited that long. The customized nanos could have entered The Assassin’s body without any liquid at all. He released The Assassin’s mouth, and said mouth began spouting profanities at him once more.

The Mechanic closed his eyes, and waited for the feedback signal. The Assassin’s flow of verbal abuse continued unabated, which was to be expected. After a few moments, however, the Mechanic could see something via the nanos he’d inserted into The Assassin’s brain: himself. The communications nanos were embedded and in place.

The machines were in. That was the easy part. The behavioral modification test would be somewhat more unnerving. The Mechanic released the exoskeleton from The Assassin and reformed it around himself as a protective measure. He then walked over to The Assassin, who was just beginning to stretch his muscles after the latest confinement. The Assassin looked at him, puzzled, as the Mechanic punched the killer in the face.

The Assassin roared in pain. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed. He drew his sword, but did not strike. The man stared at his arm as if it were no longer part of him. His arm was strong, and he’d swung that sword thousands of times before. Yet he could not move his arm to strike the Mechanic. He turned to face the Mechanic. “What did you do to me?” he whispered, his eyes fearful.

“I told you: you are to be my spy inside Aliomenti Headquarters. I’ve simply made sure that you’ll behave and perform well in the role. It would hardly do for you to kill me, now, would it?” He chuckled, primarily because he knew The Assassin hated the sound being directed at him.

The Assassin’s face was a mask of confusion. “What was the punch about?”

“There were two reasons. First, it was the best way to ensure you’d instinctively want to attack me, and I needed that to make sure that your reprogramming is working correctly.”

“And the second?”

“You’ve ruined the lives of a lot of people dear to me. Consider it a small payback for what you’ve done to me and my extended family.”

The Assassin sneered. “You’re
pathetic
. Your emotional attachments will get you killed, and your effort to ensure it won’t be me who does it simply means someone else will do the job. Truly, now, are these long lost dead people really worth losing your life over?”

“They’re my reason for living, and if it takes my life to save theirs, I will gladly pay that price. That said, I’d just as soon
not
pay that price if I can avoid it. Therefore, now I can use
you
.”

The Assassin looked modestly confused. “And what is the plan on that front?”

“You will return to Aliomenti headquarters. I will teleport with you to get you close enough to be detected and walk; at present it is quite a significant distance. They believe you died in the fire you set the night you and the Hunters attempted your various assaults on the Stark family. You will tell them the truth, to a degree; that you were so excited at the prospect of the deaths of the Stark woman and the boy that your pyrokinesis erupted, igniting an explosion that knocked you unconscious and, you suspect, also killed the family of Will Stark. You were kidnapped by the Alliance, which fed you various drugs to keep you in a state of deep sleep.”

“And why would they believe that?” The Assassin asked.

“They know that there was an explosion because the Hunters were camped out in the Starks’ back yard when it happened. They have not seen you since. They most likely assume you dead, and reasonably so. To a degree, we have given you drugs, but the intent has been to heal the injuries you sustained in the fire and your encounter with the Starks. Your story is consistent with both what they know, and what you experienced, and as such they’ll detect no lies from you.”

“If I was drugged, how did I escape?”

“You had enough lucid time to understand that you were being given the drugs. You figured out how to stop swallowing the drugs and as such your alertness returned. There came a day when you were out of your cell, and the bindings securing you to your table were removed for a change of clothes and washing. You feigned still being addled until that point of freedom, and then rose to the occasion, killing several of the Alliance with their medical knives and instruments. Please, mention me as one of the dead.”

The Mechanic smiled at his request. “In the chaos that followed, you found your sword and escaped the camp, gradually working your way back to Headquarters. You note that the camp is fairly small and basic and easy to move, and so given the time it took you to escape and arrive at Headquarters, it is probable that the Alliance moved again following your escape, figuring out that your next step would be to report to the Leader all that you learned.”

“And what have I learned,
Master
?” The last word was said with a sneer. The Mechanic smiled. The Assassin couldn’t fight him, or what he said, but it certainly hadn’t altered his charming personality.