Sucker Punch (10 page)

They have spotted us. You will need to make random, evasive moves.

How…?

Joe felt the new program come online inside his brain. Felt it in every cell in his body as it sharpened his senses, gave him access to knowledge that made the impossible suddenly feel entirely possible—
Doc?

She was a most remarkable human. If she can't get us there, it is not possible.

The doc program didn't take him over. The nanite would never do that, though Joe didn't think that in this instance he would have minded. He needed all the help he could get. But it did send new knowledge to limbs and to muscles, gave him a new agility and strength. It improved his instincts, too. He dodged, he rolled and fired at his pursuers, then dodged again. He survived despite the explosions striking the ground all around him.

This is impossible.

Doc did the impossible regularly.

But he knew, even with this Doc's extra skills, this was a battle he would lose if something didn't change and fast. His attackers had the high ground, something this doc deplored, according to her program. He needed Jack to get that missile launcher located and fired up. Assuming it had a missile ready to go. And that Jack could figure out how to fire it.

He heard the whine of incoming and leapt impossibly high in the air, his lift getting extra boost from the shockwave when the weapon impacted on the ground. He spun in the air. Felt like it took a long time to hit the ground. He rolled a couple of times, firing each time his weapon pointed in the right direction. One of the shots did some damage. The skimmer veered off, trailing smoke. It circled around, coming back in. The doc program concluded that they were trying to cut him off from the stadium.

They must be watching from atop the stadium,
Joe postulated.

Lurch did not respond to this.
How curious. I wonder…

Joe did not have time to deal with what it wondered. Multiple impacts kicked up chunks of mud and metal sizzled against metal as some of hits drilled down to the platform, adding a heated metal scent to that of dirt and sweat. And yes, fear. He was not afraid to die, but he was afraid he would fail Vi.

In some strange way, it was as if he could anticipate the enemies' moves, but he could not stop them, something the doc program deplored—

I would have liked to meet this doc.
There was a complexity to the program that the scientist in him found fascinating.

I could arrange a meeting, but then she'd probably kill you.
Lurch sounded amused, but Joe sensed it might not be joking.

The second skimmer rose to join the fight, but a high, rushing whine, a smoke trail, and an explosion knocked it out of the sky.

His chances of surviving went from none to slim.

Any chance is better than none.
This voice was not Lurch's, which might have been distracting, but the doc program kept him on target….

V
i let
her held-in breath out in a whoosh.
Nice shot, Jack.
Joe looked like he was made of wings and wires. That level of loose had to be Lurch helping him—

The other skimmer circled him, firing so fast, she lost sight of him in a roiling mist of smoke and dust.

“I rather like your Joe, though I've never cared much for purple. Garradians think they are just so all that, too.” The tone was petulant and oddly young.

Vi could not argue with this, not with Joe's
we try not to have emergencies
still stinging in her ears. Still, something about her—it—made her brain twitch. But there was no time to follow this thought. Since Vi rather more than liked Joe—though
not
to the point of love—she needed to help him. And Nod. They had to save Nod, which might help save Joe. And her. And Wynken. This wasn't all about her, even though it kind of sounded like it inside her head.

How do we appeal to Nod? How do we save it?

I am not certain we can. Blynken and I tried and now I am the only one.

But this time Nod's in there trying to help.

One word is a warning. It is not, technically, help. It is possible it is a remnant of his programming.

But it is fighting back.
Okay, not visibly fighting, but if she could figure out how to help it fight. With all her programming and nanite experience, she castigated herself wryly. Despite this dash of reality, she kept up the pressure on her brain. The inability to give up was preprogrammed in her genes.

A figure briefly appeared out of a plume, then dodged into another. Nice moves. But he couldn't hold out forever. Each shot seemed closer than the last, like they were learning him. She looked at Benson. Was it controlling the skimmer? Controlling the people in it?
Can you jam its signal? Or tap into it?

Lurch and I can connect, but we feared it would sense the connection.

Well, I think it knows you're here now.

Lurch is closer—with Lurch's assistance, we might be able to help….

Give it a shot. I'll try to distract Benson…it.

How…?

You do not want to know.

“Why don't you help him? Why don't you shoot them?”

Because that's what you want me to do.
“I'm an officer of the law. It is my job to serve and protect. To do the right thing. You wouldn't want me to do the wrong thing—if you really like me?”

“Boring.” Benson made a face, but Vi thought she saw uncertainty, too. “I mean, I get your law thing, that's why I gave you Jimbo and Bubba, but,” She frowned, “They didn't assign you to Bubba. I thought they would.”

They were a…present? “Can you read Benson's thoughts? She's an officer, too, you know. Do traces of them…linger?”

“Most humans are so boring, I don't bother poking around in their brains that much. And they don't even try—But I guess I can look—” Benson blinked, the lights in her eyes getting brighter, greener. “How strange. Seriously? That's how you feel?”

Vi nodded, a bit cautiously.

“I guess figuring out stuff isn't so bad, but all that ‘punish the bad guys' deal is so, so, ugh. I like killing. When I move in, it is hard to wait. It's just so, well, so
so
. Every now and then someone fights back. That's the boss.” Maybe something in Vi's expression penetrated its self absorption. “I guess if you like this body, I can keep it for a while. That's not very fun, though. I get so bored, but I can try—” Her head turned sharply, as if it sensed a threat and was searching for it.

It only seemed to use the information from a host that it needed. Surely this could help?

“So what's all this,” she asked quickly, gesturing around her. “Why bring us here? You could have been hurt in the crash.” Not to mention Vi could have.

“I was okay,” she said, with all the self-centered-ness of a particularly young thirteen year old. “As for why, duh, so we could be together. And I was tired of all the going here, going there, talk, talk, talk. Ugh.”

“Oh, right,” Vi said, her thoughts circling around an idea. So it didn't
know
Nod, didn't seem to really be aware it was there.

Benson's head started turn toward the faltering battle again.

How could she use—not sure where the idea came from, her or Wynken, but Vi went with it, using a soft, soothing tone. “…one night they sailed off in a wooden shoe. Sailed on a river of crystal light, into a sea of dew. Where are you going, and what do you wish?”

Benson's head jerked back her direction, the lights in the eyes acquiring flecks of purple in the green. “What's that?”

“It's called a poem.” Vi continued, “We—I like poems. It's a…gift. You gave me Jimbo, so it's for you…” She didn't wait for it to approve or disapprove of the gift. “We have come to fish for the herring, that live in this beautiful sea; nets of silver and gold have we.”

Vi didn't actually know the poem that well, but Wynken fed her the lines, and she picked the parts that sounded the most soothing. Even though she felt Wynken's uncertainty and hope, felt it straining in that other direction, trying to disrupt the connection with the skimmer through Lurch, or maybe by providing extra boost. Would hope kill them? Or save them? She didn't dare look Joe's direction, but it sounded as if the attack had faltered some more. Or they were closing in for the kill—

Benson's mouth opened. Closed. Worked and then she said, in the sing-song voice of a child, “The old moon laughed and sang a song, as they rocked in the…wooden…shoe—”

It seemed to Vi that it fought the words, because the last few came out in spurts. The color of the lights crackling on her skin and hair changed.

Vi picked it up, “—and the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.”

Benson's shoulders twitched and then her body jerked, as if it had received an electric charge. The lightning storm on her skin and hair filled the air with the smell of singed hair. And flashes of over-bright light.

“Never afeard are we, so cried the stars to the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and…” Benson's eyes opened wide, and instead of the last name, she shrieked like an animal in pain.

J
oe heard the banshee shriek
. He didn't know why the skimmer's attack had faltered. But he—and the doc program—grabbed the chance offered. He found the broken door and surged through it, following Vi's trail by following that endless, eerie sound. He burst into the open. The large oval was surrounded by rows of seats that rose toward the sky. The building had no roof—there they were. An unmoving Benson, covered in lightning. Vi also not moving, but standing.

Alive. She was still alive.

For now.

Benson held a weapon and it was pointed at Vi's heart, the hands holding it twitching as flashes of light ran up and down her arms.

The doc program still aided him, plotting his approach. He made no sound as he raced toward them, though it only mattered when the scream abruptly shut off, like a flipped switch. The storm continued its dance across and around her body. Slowly the storm calmed some, but what it meant he did not know.

He crept closer and saw Vi make a tiny stopping motion with her hand. He nodded, to show he understood, but still closed on their position, coming in on Benson's six. He blinked at the phrasing, then attributed it to the doc program.

Into the sudden silence, Vi spoke, her words puzzling to Joe.

“So shut your eyes while mother sings of wonderful sights that be, and you shall see the beautiful things as you rock in the misty sea.” She paused, though Joe was not sure why, then said, “…where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and
Nod.”

Benson twitched, her finger tightening on the weapon trigger.

Joe felt his heart freeze with fear, enough that it almost took the doc program offline. Lurch seemed to still inside him, too.

Slowly, very slowly, Vi held out her hand, the palm up. “Take my hand.”

Benson shuddered. “Why?”

“When humans…like each other…they hold hands.”

What was she doing? Her gaze never left Benson's, but Joe felt her willing him to hold position. Slowly, but not slowly enough for Joe, Benson's hand—still sparking with the remnants of the storm—moved toward Vi's. Just shy of contact, it stopped.

“You want to trick me.” But she did not sound certain. Perhaps even somewhat lost. Like a child almost.

“I want to help you.” She licked her lips. “You shall see the beautiful things as you rock in the misty sea.”

Prepare yourself,
Lurch warned.

B
enson's eyes
flickered between green and purple and small twitches shook her frame.

“Just take my hand, and we'll rock in the wooden shoe. Aren't you tired? Wouldn't you like to rest?”

Benson gave a slight nod, the mouth drooping. “Tired…” Her hand moved, but not enough. Her lashes drifted down. So did her hand.

Vi felt the heat of it, smelled singed flesh and hair and something metallic lingering in the still hot air. The lashes jerked up. The eyes were all green. Her mouth curved up in sneer.

“Yes, let's hold hands.”

Her fingers closed around Vi's hand with crushing force, but the cry in her throat didn't make it out as her insides lit up with pain and images.

Of death.

Faces twisted in fear. Tormented as they died. Horror in death. So many of them.

And places and things. She tried to look past the faces to those things. They weren't as bad. There was something about them—a blow came from one direction. Then another.

The images twisted, curled into a sphere and began to spin and writhe.

Hot. Cold. Lava gold, mixed with green and purple.

Mardi Gras on steroids, she thought vaguely, wondering if this was what it felt like to burn from the inside out. Though she kinda thought her head would explode first. Not that she'd mind exploding. Seemed better than burning….

The whirling sphere seemed to change, slowing some, or perhaps forming into multiple spheres within the larger. Each was a face or place….

She leaned in. Felt like she reached toward one, though how…?

Then all the spheres began to pulse and throb.

This is where I die, isn't it?

But there was no response. Was Wynken already dead?

I don't want to burn….

She heard a sound and looked up. It was a hammer. A big one. It came down.

L
urch bled
, not blood but data, memories…knowledge. It spilled everywhere, stinging, burning, aching with loss. He felt a whirling, a sinking, like he swirled down a vast, deep, bowl-shaped funnel, going down, down, down on sea of data….

Out of the depths, clinging to consciousness, Joe reached for the doc program….