Shedding the Demon (6 page)

“We at the CRD Lab have found a way to use D-SAP to enhance the
natural abilities of a human being. We’ve found a way to produce microscopic
plates of the material that can be interlocked and controlled using different
electrical states.”

The picture showed an enlargement of a hexagonal D-SAP
plate. Six more copies of the plate appeared around the first, showing how all
the edges interlocked to form a larger, more flexible structure.

“As you can see from the demonstration, this configuration yields
a flexible sheet of D-SAP.”

The picture zoomed out, adding more and more pieces until
the individual parts could no longer be discerned.

“This sheet can then be applied to a human being to cover
the entire surface of their skin in D-SAP armor like tiny reptilian scales.”

The picture now showed a man-shaped image covered by the
D-SAP scales.

“This covering is as flexible as their real skin, but is
also nearly impervious. In addition, the D-SAP can be manipulated with various
micro-electrical states allowing the user to vary its ratio of solidity and
flexibility.”

The Council members began talking all at once, drowning out
the doctor’s next few sentences. She paused for a few moments to allow them to
gain their composure.

“I will answer all of your questions after I’m done, but for
right now there’s still more.”

The picture began to show visuals that matched her
description as she continued.

“D-SAP nanotubes are also implanted throughout the patient’s
bone structure to shore up the skeleton, so the body can withstand the weight
of the armor and the impacts that may come during combat.”

The picture zoomed out again to show the man shape and animated
changes in time with her presentation.

“Weapons of many kinds can also be implanted in the
individual, both conventional ordinance and energy-based. Finally, we implant a
small power plant to provide the electricity for controlling the D-SAP armor and
to power the weapons and communications.”

Alexander watched as the room descended into pandemonium,
while the smile Dr. Baksa’s simply beamed.

Vindicated.
He thought,
she’s been completely
vindicated.
Then his thoughts turned to super-powered soldiers and how he
could use them most effectively.

 

**** ****

 

Damon walked into his room after his
shift in the kitchen and immediately noticed the shower running.
How many
times can she shower?
He thought in exasperation. After only a few weeks
with his new “roommate” he was about ready to kill her. He laid down on the bed
and waited for her to finish.

Things were not going very well, and Damon was sure Michael
had intended it that way. From the very first night, Damon was fighting off her
advances, but eventually she got the idea. He fondly recalled the look on her
face when he made her sleep on the floor.
At least I gave her a blanket, too
bad I didn’t have an extra pillow, though!
After a day or two, when she
realized he was serious she became cold and quiet; which he found was a welcome
change from her normal chatter.

The worst part was how distant Andrea had been ever since
Melanie showed up. Damon went from being her star student to her biggest
failure in the matter of a couple hours. He couldn’t bear the look of utter
disappointment on her face. Deep down, he always hoped that he and Andrea would
be together. Part of him realized it was a somewhat childish dream, but
recently it had seemed possible. At least until he had made the fateful
decision to bring Melanie home. He replayed the events of that day again and again,
trying to figure out where it went so wrong. He couldn’t find a way to make it
turn out differently, short of killing Melanie in cold blood.

It’s been almost long enough for me to approach Michael and
ask that she be moved elsewhere. Surely I’ve learned the lesson he intended. He
can’t expect me to keep her here forever, can he?

He sat up with a start when he realized he had fallen
asleep. Glancing at the clock he counted twenty minutes since he came into the
room and Melanie was still in the shower.
Is she trying to get us both
kicked out?
He thought incredulously, and then it dawned on him that she
might be trying that very thing!

Damon stormed into the bathroom, “Melanie! This has got to
. . .” he stopped, looked around the small room and drew back the
shower curtain.

Melanie was not there.

Damon’s mind raced, and his thoughts spun in ineffectual
circles. One conclusion appeared amid the confusion, but he couldn’t believe
it. He desperately tried to come up with another answer, but it was futile.

She’s a spy,
he thought, his mind clearing,
she’s
gone back to her gang and she’s going to bring them here. I showed her the way,
she’s collected intelligence for weeks and now she’s executing the plan!
Damon
bolted for the door.

“ANN—DREE—AAAAA!” he yelled as he tore down the hallway to
the training rooms where he knew he’d find her. He burst through the doors and
interrupted her in the middle of a class.

She met him with stony glare that could melt steel, but she quickly
softened when she sensed his distress.

“Andrea! She’s gone, Melanie is gone, she left the shower
running and she’s gone!”

He watched her eyes dart side-to-side in small jerky motions
as she digested what he said. Finally she took on the look of determination and
started into action.

 She grabbed his shoulders and held them firmly. “Demon—we
need you now more than ever. Forget everything that has happened and focus on this:
chase her down. You know she’ll have to take the path you showed her on the
first night, it’s her only safe way. Track her, catch her—”

“—and kill her.” Damon finished the sentence for her.

“Yes. Take a minute to arm and armor yourself. You’ll be alone
until I can get the troops mobilized, which will take at least fifteen minutes.
You can do it, I have faith in you.”

She quickly rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful,” she said simply, “and stay alive until we get
there.”

“Will do, boss,” he replied simply before turning to run for
the armory.

After barely a moment to watch him go, Andrea turned to her
students. “You heard, call for the muster and bring everyone here. NOW!” They
scattered in controlled chaos.

Damon arrived at the armory, and the woman on duty never
questioned his authority to take whatever he needed. He put on a set of heavy
gloves, a plastic-armored vest to protect his ribs, and a lightweight helmet.
He finished his preparations with a set of side-handled batons, and a couple
long knives. The woman handed him a tracker, one of only two that Family owned.
The radio device would allow Andrea and the others to find him easily.

“You’re a genius,” he said to the woman and kissed her on
the forehead. He then took off at a sprint to try and catch his little spy.

When Damon reached the door where he had brought Melanie in
barely a month prior, he called to the guard to find out what he knew. When no
one answered the hail, Damon’s blood grew cold. He spent a precious minute
looking around the area and finally found the body of a guard who he didn’t
even know; his throat had been slit.
The little bitch is armed, too. That’ll
make it easier to kill her at least.

He wished there was time to do something for the guard, but
his death was best avenged by stopping Melanie. He took off as fast as he could
manage down the trail. Along the way he kept a careful eye for the telltales
that would indicate her passage. Everyone trained for patrol memorized the
myriad different trip wires and other indicators that would alert them to the
passage of someone who did not belong. Therefore, since Damon was finding most
of them disturbed along the way he could be sure that she had passed through
here. The debris in the area was also carefully laid out to allow a path if you
knew where to look. With training and practice, one could navigate the path
quickly and quietly; someone unfamiliar with the route would be slowed
significantly, and Damon hoped it would be enough for him to catch up.

He only allowed himself a single distraction from his chase.
He looked up for a second as he passed by the beacon, and sure enough, it was
still lit.

After everything I did for her, everything I sacrificed,
she can just throw it away like this. The whole thing was a scam, and I played
into it like the perfect idiot.
His anger grew while he ran, and it was
easy for him to channel all of it toward her, preparing himself for the
inevitable fight to come.
Quick and decisive, don’t even let her speak,
he counseled himself, although he doubted he’d have any trouble killing her
this time.

He didn’t stop running until he reached an old collapsed
water tower that he needed to cross over to the next building. Since this was
off the path and beyond the perimeter, there were no more easy signs of her
passage to follow. Judging from her route so far, he assumed she was returning
to where he had first found her.

Crossing over quickly and without incident, he looked down
into the alleyway where he first saw her. He concentrated on controlling his
breathing. His hearing would not be effective as long as his breath was ragged and
heart was hammering.

It took a full minute to calm himself well enough to really
try to listen for signs of life. Sure enough, he heard voices, although he could
not discern their source. He circled around the alleyway, staying on the
rooftops in order to keep what little advantage he held.

Once again, he praised the wisdom of the woman at the armory
as he turned on his beacon. Because of her forethought, this little device
saved him from worrying about leaving a trail of signs for Andrea to follow,
and that could very well save his life tonight.

He watched from his new vantage point as a few men and women
came out of a nearby building to gather in the alley.
Kyndra’s concubine,
he thought as Melanie came into view, bantering and laughing with her friends.

He could barely contain himself, but he remembered his
training and waited to make a tactical assessment.

 

Renard stood as Avelina entered the room.

“Thank you, my dear, for meeting me in private,” he said as
he led her to a table set for two.

“Of course, Reverend, it’s really my pleasure.” She looked
pointedly at Jeffrey Allen sitting in the corner. “And good evening to you,
Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey simply nodded and smiled, then returned his
attention to the screen in his lap.

“My dear Doctor,” Renard began, “I must congratulate you on
your amazing breakthrough. You were right about the D-SAP material; you always
said it would pay off someday. Please accept my
extremely late
apologies.”

“Thank you, Reverend. I must confess to an unhealthy level
of self-indulgent pleasure and great feelings of satisfaction. Kyndra please
forgive me.” She and Renard both made the ritual motion of right hand to heart
and bowing slightly.

Renard replied, “I’m most positive that you are forgiven.
And the feelings are justified, you have a right to be proud of your work.”

Two waiters entered and placed salads in front of them, made
some adjustments to the settings on the table, filled their water glasses, and
disappeared through a side door.

Renard continued after they left, “There are so many
questions I want to ask about the program, I’m not sure where to begin. And I
didn’t want to ask in front of the others, as I do not trust their ability to
keep a secret this big.”

“I’m happy to answer anything for you, Reverend. I also
agree with your assessment of the other Council members—with all due respect,”
she hurriedly added.

“Of course, of course, and I know I can trust you with the
sensitivity of what we are about to discuss.” He chewed his salad thoughtfully while
he considered the years she had spent in the Kyndraist educational system. At
times like this, he hoped the loyalty training was strong enough. “So you’re
ready to actually begin the operations to create this man-machine,
super-powered soldier?”

“Oh yes, all we need is a volunteer. We call it the Human
Implanted Enhancement program, by the way.”

“Do you have anyone in mind to become the first implanted
human—whatever?”

“Well, we haven’t screened anyone yet. I imagine that we
will be able to find many volunteers in the ranks of the armed forces.”

Renard set his fork down on his now-empty salad plate,
leaned forward, and looked at her intently. “Avelina,” he said earnestly, “you
must listen to me very carefully. If this program is to work at all, we need to
have complete secrecy. If anyone finds out about a super-soldier assassin
running around killing in the name of the Council, we will have an immediate
revolt, probably in all systems.

“Therefore, if we are going to keep this secret, we need to
get our volunteer from elsewhere. We must find someone who will not be missed
or noticed at all.”

“Street gangs,” Jeffrey said, startling both Renard and
Avelina.

“What?” Renard asked. Avelina had to turn in her chair to
look at him as he continued.

“Street gangs. They raise some of the toughest fighters
around, and they keep no records, so we could snatch one of their best fighters
and no one would ever know.”

“Jeffrey,” Renard said formally, “once again you humble me
with your quiet genius! Can you make the arrangements?”

“Certainly. It will be easy.” He tapped away on his screen.

Renard returned his attention to Avelina, confident that
Jeffrey would set up a program that would yield results quickly. “When could
you begin work?”

“As soon as we have a patient. All of the D-SAP scales have
been produced, the structural support system is designed, and weapons systems
have been chosen and tested. We are ready to move forward.”

“I must commend you yet again on the thoroughness of your
preparations.” He looked up as the waiters returned and in a flurry of activity
cleared the salads and presented the main course.

Renard continued between bites of his food, “Let us return
to the discussion of secrecy. I trust very few people with a secret this
important. How many individuals know about this program—and I mean know
anything
about it? Scientists, doctors, biolectricians, guards, students, custodians; we
need to know the names of everyone associated with the project so we can ensure
their commitment to secrecy.”

“Reverend,” she said in a tone that allowed no dissent, “I
know exactly what you are saying. You’ll use this list to round up everyone you
intend to imprison or kill.”

“I . . .” Renard sputtered.

Avelina held up placating hands, “Please, do not be
offended,” she looked him directly in the eyes, “but do not try to deny it.”

For a long moment they stared at each other when Renard
finally looked down and said, “I would NOT kill them! But you’re right, I want
to hold them, and it would be patronizing to try and tell you otherwise.
Really, I intend it for their own safety, you must believe that!”

“Good, thank you. For this very reason I have labored long
and hard nearly in exile, to make sure the list would be as short as possible.”
She pulled a mini-screen from her pocket and tapped out a few commands. “I have
sent the list to Jeffrey, but I have one caveat.”

“That is?”

“I still need all of these people in order to finish the
project, AND I will need them in the future if we are to make improvements to
the original design.”

Renard breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, glancing over
to Jeffrey, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Of course, my dear. You can keep
your small team intact, but if I get suspicious of anyone, they will be removed
from the project.”

“Thank you, Reverend,” she said with obvious relief.

Renard inclined his head, “Truly, I’m merely here to serve
you. May Kyndra smile upon our venture as we bring revival to the Consensus.” They
both made the ritual gesture before Renard followed up with, “Now let’s enjoy
this wonderful meal!”

In the background, Jeffrey was reading initial reports from
his investigations of the people on the list.

 

**** ****

 

Damon decided that he was prepared
to take on the group all at once, even though he counted thirteen targets, plus
Melanie. They were positioned perfectly for him to drop down and use surprise
to take out at least three before they could react. They were lightly armed, so
he was not concerned about ten to one odds.
Besides, with a little luck I
could knock out four or five in the initial attack.

He cinched down the straps of his armor, making sure nothing
would come loose during the fight. He gripped one baton in each hand by the
side handle, oriented with the long end running down his forearm and the short
end sticking forward. Moving to the edge of the roof directly over his targets,
he dropped into the alley.

With uncanny precision, he landed directly on the shoulders
of the nearest victim, his one-hundred-plus kilograms breaking bones as his
landing was nicely cushioned. Spinning quickly to take advantage of the small
window of opportunity, he twisted the batons around to their full length and
tried to hit as many heads as possible before snapping them back into the
original guard position. From there he punched into one man’s throat, another’s
sternum, and finally hit a woman full in the face.

Now his remaining targets were backing out of range, so he
took a moment to assess the situation.
Six down! Better than I ever hoped
for!
He felt a surge of adrenalin at his good fortune. However, more had
come out of the building and he still faced ten opponents, now scattered around
him.

Finding the largest of them, he rushed in, blocking a heavy
blow with the baton on his left arm and driving the other upward under the
man’s ribcage. The big target went down and Damon rolled to his right, taking a
glancing blow from a crowbar to his helmet.

The wielder of the crowbar was off balance from the swing
and Damon easily dispatched him with a quick strike to the back of the head.
The other gang members tried to surround him, but he moved too quickly for them
to get organized.

More men and women came out of the building, but Damon was
no longer counting, and he no longer cared. In fact, he was laughing. The
gruesome violence he administered gave him a feeling of release, letting all of
his anger and pain flow out into these nameless victims.

Melanie had disappeared.

 

**** ****

 

“Cap, we’ve got a disturbance just inside the Ruins, Sector
94, I think it aligns with that directive that came down this morning.”

The captain looked up from his screen and said, “Uh huh,
send it over.”

A window popped up in the corner of his screen showing the
view from a Dragonfly hovering over the scene of the disturbance. He rubbed his
eyes and tried to focus; he really hated night shifts.

He watched the drama unfold for half a minute and saw one large
man take down an easy half-dozen attackers while more kept coming. Sitting forward,
he gestured to enlarge the window for a better look. As the seconds ticked off
and more assailants dropped, he realized he
had
found a legitimate
target.

“Do we have any units nearby?” he asked, afraid the target
might be lost in the onslaught.

“We got two, but they’re 2 minutes out.”

“
Dickson’s death
.” Too long! “Drop the Dragonfly in
and gas 'em. Hurry! And get those units moving fast, I want them there in 1.”

The controller didn’t reply, but immediately took manual
control of the Dragonfly. She flew it in close to the fight scene, and prepared
to dump gas on the whole area. It would put everyone to sleep and give them a
headache, but otherwise it was harmless. She also sent the location and the
orders to both units in range.

 

**** ****

 

Damon was bruised and battered, but he
hadn’t taken any serious hits. The pile of inert bodies around him was
beginning to hamper his movements, and he wondered if these chumps would ever
stop coming out of whatever hole was spawning them.

Movement caught his attention over the heads of his
attackers and he saw a small, thin bodied aircraft descending. He didn’t know
what it was exactly, but when the front opened and gun muzzles emerged, he
didn’t need to know anything more.

Quickly assessing the situation, he ran parallel to the
building and jumped, putting his foot on a window sill and using it to push
himself higher. He landed on an old fire escape, and continued his run at the
aircraft. When he reached the end of the fire escape he jumped again, hoping he
could make the distance. While he was in the air, gas spewed out of the muzzles
and dropped quickly toward the ground. Holding his breath, Damon reached out
with both hands, dropping one of his batons.

He landed squarely on the back of the craft, and was able to
hold on despite the jarring impact. The vehicle dropped altitude quickly under
his weight before stabilizing and leveling out. He smashed at the nozzles until
the gas stopped flowing. The craft dropped again, and Damon realized it
intended to fly him into the cloud. He took a deep breath and jumped down.

The gas was nearby, settling and flowing outward quickly, so
he ran from it. As far as he could tell, all of the gang members were now down
and out. He had not caught another glimpse of Melanie, which he regretted. He
really wanted to introduce his fist to her teeth.
Ah well, maybe another
day!

 

**** ****

 

“What the . . . !” the controller was fighting
violently with the controls, and the captain had to come over to see what she
was doing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, unable to tell for himself what
was giving her so much trouble. Her screen looked devoid of targets, but it
convulsed drunkenly.

“He jumped on me—it. He jumped on it!”

“Why did you get so close? It’s not necess—”

“
I didn’t
,” she snapped, “uh, sorry, sir,” she
finished contritely. “He practically
flew
to get there, I’ve never seen
anything like it.”

“What’s the ETA on those units?” he yelled to any other
controller that would answer.

“Gear-down right now, sir,” one of the others answered.

“Good,” and the captain turned his attention back to the
screen, which now showed Damon running away from the cloud. “Don’t lose him,
he’s our big, fat BONUS!”

 

**** ****

 

Damon stopped short as two large
aircraft settled at the end of alleyway, completely blocking his path. The only
other way out was back through the cloud. He looked at the building to either
side but found no help there.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE,” a strangely electronic-sounding voice
said.

At least six armed and armored figures exited from each craft.
He recognized them as SecForce, the paramilitary policemen from the City. His
mind raced and he tried to figure out his next move. The sleek, black armored
figures formed into a loose semi-circle blocking his escape. Their faces were
completely covered by visored helmets, and no skin at all showed from
underneath their uniforms.

Feeling cornered and still on an adrenaline rush from the
intense combat, he made a snap decision. As Andrea had told him many times
before,
snap decisions are almost always bad!

“We’re not going to . . .”

Damon didn’t wait for him to finish, but charged as fast as
he could. One of the men leveled a small but nasty looking weapon and Damon
prepared for the worst. Two small projectiles came out and cut into Damon’s
skin through the plastic armor. Wires trailed back to the gun and suddenly
Damon was overwhelmed with electrical shock.