Harsh Lessons (17 page)

'Yeah; a normal girl who might go mad any moment and kill us!'

Mother steepled her fingers.  'That
is
the issue, Doctor.  We all agree she is deadly.  But if we can't control her, she is worse than useless.'

Harmon examined his hands, then looked up.  'So you authorize me to use extreme measures?'

Mother and Father's eyes narrowed, but they nodded.

He smiled.  'Give me one hour.'

All three now stared at him. 

Inclining his head, he rose to his feet and left the room.

After a moment, Nelson, clearly unhappy, clamped his mouth shut and stomped out.

Mother sighed.  'You know, Father – I don't know which of those two I like the least.'

Father looked at her, in mild surprise.

Chapter 20 

Emma sat in the common room reading, trying not to fume.  Why were James and Preacher given more missions than her?  Especially Preacher – he spent almost all his time on the streets, almost none at the Department.  She didn't even know what he really did.  Just that it involved Nelson and the Department's accountant – the grayly unnerving and identity-less “Checkbook” – more than anyone else.

She dragged her attention back to her tridsheet, and once more tried to become interested in the news.

Yamatetsu was announcing a new process for removing heavy metal pollutants from soil.  Ah. 
That
explained why they'd been buying industrial wasteland at the edge of the southern Dumps.  And another one of those awful torture-murders in that same area, by the creature the media were calling "The Breaker."  She shuddered, flicking through into the social section.  There was another vidspread of Happy Joe Holliday, “Bodyguard to the Stars.”  Emma snorted.  If he wasn't an out and out merc, she'd retire from this biz.  He and his team must be good, though, since none of the Corps or cops had ever laid charges.

Jack Shadow had another anti-Corp anthem catching fire on the P2P infranet. 
Expect riots in HK and Wall Street,
she predicted to herself.

Ah, Tik Tek were announcing more funding for their artificial intelligence programme.  People wondered why they bothered: AI researchers had been trying to solve the problem now for a hundred years.  She smiled.  But a public announcement of more AI research made cheap advertising for the Tik Tek androids and gynoids.  Probably meant a new model was due for release.

The door at the far side of the room swung open.  Emma put down her 'sheet as two small feet swung into view, followed by the rest of Leeth as Dojo carried her into the room.  She registered the livid mark over his cheek, already swelling angrily.  A head shot!  Considering that the rest of them had rarely even landed a
body
blow on Dojo….

Impassively, he carried the unconscious girl to the deep lounge chair opposite Emma's and gently deposited her in it.  She was utterly limp, breathing raggedly, but with no mark on her.

Emma stared.

'I could not find the Doctor – he was not in his office, nor his quarters.  And Mother and Father are in a meeting, not to be disturbed.'  He seated himself in the chair midway between Leeth and Emma.  'She was highly… agitated.  Do you know why that might be, Miss Emma?'

'Me?  No.  Why?'

Dojo watched her carefully.  'She spoke your name.  You can think of nothing that may have upset her?'

Emma raised her eyebrows.  'No, I haven't spoken to her since yesterday
.
  What happened?'

'I heard someone… damaging the gym.  When I asked her to stop, she challenged me to make her.  We fought.'

'Damaging the gym?  What do you mean?'

He frowned slightly.  'She had removed the weights from the barbell, and was hurling them into the climbing wall.'

Emma shifted her shoulders.  'That doesn't sound too terrible.  Only the small weights, I imagine?'

He blinked, several times.  'The disks are still embedded in the synthrock.  She had started with the five kilogram weights, and was working her way up from there.'

She stared at him.  Looked at the slim form of the unconscious girl.  Then back to Dojo.  She gestured to his swollen cheek.  'But how did she manage to, ah...?'

'Injure me?  She was
creative
with one of the exercise mats.'

'She hit you with an
exercise mat
?  But- those things are heavy!'

'True.  Yet Miss Leeth flipped one on top of me then dived over it, landing – silently – behind me as I sought to avoid it.'

For a moment, Emma had the feeling Dojo was smiling.  'Most ingenious.'

'And then?' she prompted, interrupting his reverie.

'Then we fought in earnest.  She was most angry, but not so angry her attacks were wild.  She is improving.

'I enquired as to the cause of her anger.  It was then she spoke your name.  And Nelson's.  You have no idea what had upset her?'

Emma shook her head.  'None at all.  Then what happened?'

'We fought.  For some time I sparred with her, correcting her mistakes, but she did not speak.  At last I realized she did not intend to stop until one of us lay unconscious.'  They both stared at the girl.  'Why would she wish me to do that to her?'

'It's a comfort to her,' spoke a voice from the open doorway.  Harmon came the rest of the way into the room.  'I'm sure it sounds terrible, but this type of thing calms her.  No doubt you're aware she considers herself competent.  But graphic demonstrations of superiority from people she trusts make her feel secure; reassures her there are higher authorities she can call on when needed.  To put it simplistically.

'And of course,' he continued, 'at your level of skill, you are in no real danger from her.'

Dojo eyes narrowed.  'She has demonstrated to me her… spirit claws.'

Harmon stared at Dojo.  'Has she.'

Spirit claws?
  Emma looked from one man to the other, wondering what they were talking about; and why the Doctor looked annoyed.

'Indeed.  She said she wished me to be aware of them, should she ever lose her temper.'  Dojo smiled with a rare tenderness.  'She said she did not want to accidentally kill me.'

'
Kill
you?'
blurted Emma, feeling a prickling down her spine.  'What “spirit claws?”  She's never mentioned them to
me
.'

Dojo met her eyes.  'Maybe she thinks she would never be so angry with you, Miss Emma.'

Emma digested that.  'But what about James, and Preacher?  Don't they need to know?  And why keep it secret?  Doesn't she trust us?  What else can she do that we don't know about?'

And then Harmon saw something move behind Emma's eyes; some deeper awareness that spoke of genuine fear.  Her lips clamped shut.

Turning away from her, he formed a Mindmeld.  Then casually turned back, delicately draping it over her.  At least the infuriating months of cat and mouse with Leeth had yielded one benefit: improving his stealth at spell-casting.

But the thoughts he skimmed from her mind froze him to the spot:
«
Melisande d'Artelle… infection… alive…? 
And T
he Manipulator…?  Infiltration…?
»

Mentally reeling, he had to school himself to give no sign. 
How on earth…?  Why did
Emma associate Leeth with
d'Artelle
? 
Had Leeth
truly
been infected? 
  His heart pounded in his chest.  And how did she know of Leeth's connection to Godsson – David Benson, "The Manipulator"?

None of that showed, however, as he calmly met her eyes and smiled.  'Do you fear her, Emma?  She is still a child.  Though one who has faced… terrible things.  And survived.'  He didn't try to conceal the pride he still felt; nor the horror at what she had put herself through.

'What things?' Emma whispered, with a shudder. 
«D'Artelle! … Benson!»

Harmon was aware Dojo had been lost by the conversation's turn.  But he needed to know what
else
Emma knew.  'I'm afraid Eagle himself has forbidden Leeth or me to share that information.  Nor would Leeth disobey those orders, I'm sure.'  He watched Emma's eyes; and each thought.

'She hasn't,' Emma agreed. 
«Just a few words.»
  But a flood of memories followed: Leeth reacting to horrifying footage of d'Artelle; Leeth recognizing a recent image of Godsson, even whispering his name.  And chaining the fear that Leeth had been influenced by d'Artelle or Benson, just one hope: 
«Eagle knows. It'll be all right.»

He almost groaned aloud.  The last thing he needed now was for the idea to take root that Leeth had been infected by Melisande d'Artelle or subverted by a madman.

And how had they obtained such a recent image of Godsson?  Had one of them
visited
the Institute?  Something about
that
thought prickled a faint unease, almost a dream memory.

It faded.

He'd become so lost in his own thoughts he’d dropped the Mindmeld, but Emma’s attention, too, seemed turned inward.

Dojo simply watched them both, observing everything.  Patient.  He inclined his head toward Leeth, lying unconscious and ignored.

Harmon took the hint.  Leeth's pulse, lungs, and heart were fine, though he noted that Emma still appeared to find his matter-of-fact style of examination objectionable.  He turned to Dojo, and the welt over his cheek.  What had they been discussing?  Ah, yes….

'I see you didn't demonstrate
complete
superiority, however.  Does that hurt?'

Dojo bristled.  'No.'

'Still, it gives your face a displeasing cast.  Don't you agree, Emma?'

Emma felt off-balance.  Of course Dojo should have it Healed.  But his pride…. 'Well, it does look
uncomfortable.
'

Dojo's expression hardened.  'We learn from our bruises.  They teach us our weaknesses, and our opponent's strength.'

Harmon nodded.  'True.  But I hardly think you will forget Leeth's efforts today.'  At Dojo's expression, he nodded.  'Ah. You fear it will make you
susceptible
?  Not so.  Each time I heal you, it simply makes it easier for me to do so in the future.  Nothing more.'

'That's true,' Emma nodded.  'I've followed the research reports.'

'Please; allow me.  Since it was my young charge who injured you.'   He formed the healing patterns, and waited.

Dojo said nothing, which Harmon took as assent.

In twenty seconds, the injury had vanished.

'She attacked Nelson,' Harmon continued, 'not half an hour ago.  'I blame myself, for not providing the discipline she needs.'

'She attacked
Nelson?'
exclaimed Emma.  She and Dojo exchanged a worried look.  'How is he?  Does Mother know?'

So I'm not the only one to notice Leeth has failed to charm Mother?
  Interesting that they assumed Eagle already knew.
 
'Yes.  Leeth scarcely injured him, so Mother has given her another chance.  But one more lapse like that….'

All three stared in silence at the girl.

She looks so helpless like that
, thought Emma.  'Aren't you going to heal her too?'

'I have.  She is no longer physically injured, merely stunned.  We could apply a stimpatch, but I prefer to let her come around naturally.  In her quarters.  I have some words to say to her.'  He looked at Dojo.  'May I impose on you to help me carry her?'

Emma could tell Dojo was not happy, but he stood and lifted the girl back into his arms.  The Doctor inclined his head to Emma, then followed after.

If only James were here, to discuss it all
.  Too much seemed to be going on; ugly currents under the surface.  Was Leeth beginning to crack?  The girl
had
basically been cooped up here since her opera house tests.  Suddenly Emma herself felt stifled.

At last, unable to resist the temptation, she headed to her own rooms. 
Just one MetaLife scene
.  She'd visit Steed.  Nelson had a new episode prepared.
 

Chapter 21 

Sitting on the edge of her bed, marking time until she woke, Harmon looked around her room.  A jumble of vid cubes: the energetic music she liked, wildlife documentaries, trashy monster movies jumbled in amongst martial arts training exercises.  Some fruit in a bowl.

A few posters on the walls, a mixture of singers he didn't recognize and heroes and heroines from the foolish action vids she seemed to enjoy so much.  Mounted on one sliding door of her wardrobe, a full-length mirror; the other door covered with a poster providing assembly and cleaning instructions for a smartgun.  Heckler and Koch.  A pity she seemed to prefer German engineering to American.

From her almost bare bedside table he picked up the wooden carving of a shark.  It was a thing of planes, the edges unsmoothed; he wondered if she was still working on it.  Pitiful really.  He put the crude carving back.  Just as well for her to focus on the things she did well, instead.  Beside it rested an old padlock and a worn paper-clip.

He frowned.  Little outward expression of the occupant's personality except her deadly-looking matte black slingshot, and those frozen images from her ridiculous movies.  Several appeared to be from a single film: three heroines in improbable armor, armed only with swords and bows, facing progressively less likely foes.  A final image showed one girl with long blond pleats and a Nordic helm, descending in an impossible leap to plunge her silver sword through the skull of a horned creature ten times her size.  Below that, in lurid red, the film's title: Demons-bane.

He shook his head.

Leeth made a small sound as she regained consciousness. 
I must teach her not to do that
.  She sat up and their eyes met, her mouth setting in the familiar stubborn pout.

He waited, but soon realized she was not going to break the silence.  Of course not.  He sighed.  'Leeth, what did I tell you about finding ways to defeat someone other than by attacking their strongest point?'