Zero Sum (12 page)

Rei stumbled backwards like I’d just slapped her in the face. “Mi a kurvak faszat!” she screeched, and let loose a hacking cough.
 

I stood frozen in place, utterly baffled.

“Nice one, Dieter,” Jules said with a laugh.

Gasping, Rei hobbled backwards on her brand new heels and toppled into the gutter.
 

“What?” I asked, raising my hands into the air. “What did I do?”

“Todd,” one of the bagmen asked, “how the heck did we end up here?”

The other man shook his head clear. “No idea.” He checked his fine Swiss watch. “Look how late…who’s manning the shop?”
 

“Oh God!” the other screamed.
 

Dropping Rei’s bags, the two of them sprinted down the street.
 

All the while, Rei continued to stumble around like a buffoon.

“What did I do?” I asked again.

Rei pointed a shaky finger at me. “You consumed one of those accursed pizzas, didn’t you?”

“What? Yea, I ate a clam one with Jules. So what?”

Rei fumbled for something in her purse, while Jules continued to cackle her head off. I frowned at her. Rei looked like she was having an asthma attack. I didn’t get what could possibly be funny about that.
 

Still laughing, Jules walked over and whispered, “Arlic-gay, Dieter.”

“Garlic!” I exclaimed. “Wait, that’s real too?”

“Yes, you imbecile,” Rei croaked. She pulled out a big black marker from her bag and yanked the cap off with her teeth. This motion exposed the mother of all needles. I swallowed. I hated needles. I really, really, hated needles. Gritting her teeth, Rei jabbed her EpiPen straight through her pricy dress. Grimacing, she held the needle in her thigh as the epinephrine dumped into her bloodstream.

“Anaphylactic shock? You’re
that
allergic to garlic?”

Rei nodded as she crunched four Benadryl tablets with her teeth.
 

I covered my face and mumbled ten to twenty curses into the palm of my hand.
 

Thankfully, Jules had finally noticed the crowd. “Wonderful,” she muttered. “Dieter, grab her bags. I’ll go pay the bill.”

I nodded grimly.

+

We walked back to the train station single-file, Rei a distant third.

“Sorry,” I mumbled for about the fifteenth time.
 

Clunking along ahead of us, Rei itched at her swollen ear. “Rejected,” she replied coolly.
 

On the train, she sat in the adjoining car from where she lobbed the occasional wet cat glare.

“I feel like an asshole,” I said to Jules as we sped out of New Haven.

“Why do ya care so much? It’s not like it was gonna kill her. You can hit a drainer with a bus. A few garlic flakes aren’t gonna do the deed. And besides, she’s always messin’ with people.” Jules fidgeted in her seat. “Serves her right for shavin’ Monique’s hair last night.”

I sighed. “Monique
wanted
to get her ass kicked last night.”

Jules scrunched up her face. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

“Come on. Monique was feeling terrible. She ordered Sheila out, and Sheila got her ass handed to her. Then she froze up and Roster got cracked. Rei was only—”

“Why, Dieter? Why do ya always defend her?”

“Jules, I don’t always defend her. It’s just that—”

“It’s because ya like her, isn’t it?”

“We’re…” Jules had caught me off guard, but explaining that our souls were kinda stuck together didn’t sound like a good idea. For a few seconds I didn’t know how to respond. “New York was…hard. Rei and I…she was there in a big way for me. I’ll never forget that. But we’re just friends, Jules.” Anything beyond that was craziness.

“Nope. I’ve seen it before. She has ya under her spell. Folks get all silly in the head around them.” Jules shook her head in disgust. “Dieter Resnick, you’re a thicko, ya know that? She’s all polite and charmin’ on the outside, but that’s the
outside
. One time, my gran and I…” Jules bit her lip. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You have no idea what those animals are capable of.
None
.”

I ran a thumb over the thick scar tissue on my palm. “Yes I do,” I said grimly. “And so far, it hasn’t been any worse than what I’ve done. You said it yourself, Jules, we do whatever it takes to survive. They’re no different.”

“That’s not what I meant. Ya don’t know what it’s like in the Fiefs. Dieter, they treat the Imperiti there like cattle. They’re nothin’ but leeches. They’d be better off gone.”

“And who are you to make that call?” I asked, my voice rising. “From what I can tell, every race in this perverted little sideshow called the Conscious is nearing extinction, but all anybody ever talks about is wiping one another out.” I threw up my hands. “You people are freaking crazy.”

“Ya don’t get it,” Jules said stubbornly.

“You’re absolutely right, Jules—and it’s something I never
want
to get.”

Chapter 6

WRIGHT THE SHIP

I planned to spend Sunday sitting under a tree. Yea, it was freakin’ freezing outside—but that was kinda the idea. Cold meant alone, and alone sounded awesome. I threw on my new coat and robe, requisitioned a space heater from the outdoors club, grabbed an interesting looking book from the library, and headed out onto Elliot lawn. Last night had gone splendid. Rei didn’t want to talk to me, Jules hadn’t stopped yelling at me, and the rest of Lambda was in a funk. While we had gone shopping, the rest of the squad had spent all Saturday annoying the shit out of each other in the basement. By the time we got back, they were ornery as hell. On the positive side, Roster was up and walking again. On the negative side, Roster was up and talking again. Sadie’s case was graver. She was spending this chilly Sunday morning getting a second batch of skin grafts.

After brushing a table clear of leaves, I fired up the heater and sat down to read. The random book of the day was
Dalton’s Elements of Mass Effect Spells
, a charming discourse on big-bang magic. It was kick-butt stuff: human sacrifices, plagues, and a great deal of smiting thine enemies with molten debris. (Did you know that for the low cost of twenty thousand souls you could be the proud owner of a Kraken?) I was an hour into mastering the dark arts when I heard the crunch of footsteps on the frozen grass behind me. It was Dean Albright. He was trudging over with his own book in hand.

“Hello, Mr. Resnick.” Dean Albright was dressed in his usual finery. He wore a trim black suit and matching overcoat. He’d ditched the tie, though—a modest concession to the weekend.

My head still buried in
Dalton’s
, I said, “You shall answer me three questions first, or we shall not chat.”

“Okay…?” he said, scratching his wavy black hair.

“First question: are you sane?”

“Um, yes,” he answered.

“Second question: are you allergic to garlic?”

“Nope, only penicillin.”

“Third question: do you come bearing gifts?”

Albright grinned and pulled a thermos out of his heavy overcoat.

“Access granted. Feel free to have a seat.” I closed my book and placed it on the table. The lamentation of the women and children would have to wait. “What’s up, doc?”

 
“Nothing new. I’m just checking in. How’s Spinoza been treating you?”

“Well he hasn’t killed anyone yet—but Friday was only his first day. I’m sure that if you just give him a bit more time he’ll deliver a body bag or two.”

Albright poured out some coffee. “That tough, huh?”

“Nah, he just smashed Sheila’s head into the cement, broke some of Roster bones, sucker punched Ichijo, rearranged Dante’s shoulder, and made Monique cry. He’s a featherweight, really.”

“Good,” Albright said with a nod.

I raised my eyes from my cup. “You approve?” I asked.

“Of course, son. I designed the program.”

I set down my coffee.
 

“Mind enlightening me?”
 

“Let me ask you a question.” Albright slid closer to the heater, cupped his hands, and soaked up the warmth. It was the first time I ever noticed them. They were both covered in scars. It looked like Albright had stuck them into a weed whacker a few years back. “You have survived two engagements thus far. Why do you think that is?”

I didn’t even need to think. “Luck. I had no idea what I was doing. I was just flying by the seat of my pants.”

Albright shook his head. “I disagree. In both instances, the enemy should have easily overpowered you. Luck might have saved you once, but not twice. And, son, we’re not even considering the original incident.”

I shrugged and buried my head in my cup. Albright waited patiently for me to finish.

“What can I tell you?” I said, finally. “Seat of my pants. I didn’t have any skills. I still don’t. I just tried to hit people when they weren’t looking.”

“Exactly, son. You’re unpredictable. Would you ever try to go blow for blow with Roster? No. Would you ever try to force your way past one of Sadie’s fortifications? No. In every one of your fights, you have never once gone toe-to-toe with your enemy. You have zero faith that you can overcome an adversary through brute force, so you try something else.”

“I’m sorry, but are you calling me a coward?”

“Of course not,” Dean Albright said with a laugh. “Cowards run away—something you should consider doing more often, actually. No, son. I’m calling you a tactical fighter. You understand something fundamental about combat: full-frontal assaults only work if your opponent is both weak
and
stupid. Combat is not playtime. If you fail, you do not merely merit a failing mark. Your comrades are overrun. The people you care about die. In real combat, failure means you are left with a burden you cannot bear. And you don’t get to go cry in a corner. There isn’t going to be a corner left for you.”

I shifted uneasily.

“Son, a real battlefield lacks dignity and honor. When lives are being spent—actual human lives—those high-minded concepts lose their meaning. All that matters is victory. If you have blades, you’ll use blades. If you have rocks, you’ll use rocks. If there’s nothing but sand, you’ll throw the damn sand. A
true
war is only waged when men don’t want to live to see what failure looks like. You do what it takes to win. You go wherever necessity takes you.”

I sat in stunned silence as he spoke. This wasn’t the Joseph Albright I knew. This wasn’t the affable dean of student affairs. This was an Albright from another time and place. He spoke of blades. When exactly was the last time
blades
were used in combat?

“As a counterpoint, consider the arrogance Ms. Bathory displayed in New York,” he offered.

I bristled. “Sir, she saved my life in New York.”

“No, Dieter. You saved hers.”

“W-what?” I stammered.

“Tell me, son. Why did Ms. Bathory challenge them in hand-to-hand combat in a well-lit warehouse? Why did she erase every single advantage she has at her disposal?”

“She…” I frowned. “Okay, good point.”
 

“Heightened senses. Stealth. Speed. Training since childhood in all manners of combat. You have no
conception
of the technical proficiency Theodus expects from his broodlings. She was memorizing battle formations while you were still in diapers. So why did Ms. Bathory select a battlefield that erased every last one of her strengths?”

“I think…” I examined the crisp brown leaves above my head. They didn’t offer much insight. I bit my lip. Was it all right to even say this? “For the thrill of it?”

Albright nodded. “It is good to see that your respect for Ms. Bathory has not clouded your judgment. Pride and arrogance—their race is full of it. Their confidence is both their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. The princess must master hers if she is to thrive.”

Princess.
That’s what Dante kept calling her… Albright seemed to know the answers Rei refused to give, he could probably tell me all about her, but I needed a change of subject even more. Any talk of New York risked exposing our accidental partnering. In fact, it almost felt like Albright was playing on that curiosity, baiting me forward into a trap. I passed on the chance and went for the dodge.
 

“So, Friday’s lesson…the purpose of that smack-down was what, exactly?”

Albright ran his worn fingers through the steam rising off his cup. “A wake-up call. Like Ms. Bathory, most of your Lambda squadmates rely on main force to carry them through their duels. Don’t get me wrong, son. They are all extremely talented—but therein lies the rub. Power breeds arrogance, and arrogance breeds complacency. There is a counter to every punch, no matter how potent and well crafted that punch may be. Those in need of such a lesson were broken and humiliated. At the same time, the most tentative members of the squad—the ones that Monique never even considered calling on—were forced to watch as their comrades were injured. They learned the true cost of weakness. Weakness forces you to stand by as those around you are harmed. It is a bitter lesson. One some responded quite well to.”

“Dante and Sadie?” I asked.

Albright nodded.

“How about Ichijo? Did you think he’s too benevolent?”

“Something like that.”

“And Monique?”

“For Monique, the lesson was a simple one: if she wants to lead, she cannot look at her subordinates as people. Subordinates are tools. Tools to complete one’s objective with.” Albright swept some of the snow off the table and set down his book. “If they must be spent, they must be spent.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Like when you told Jules to set off the fire alarm. What if your diversion had been insufficient?”

“Hey, I didn’t…” I felt like I was going to be ill. “I didn’t think Jules would get hurt.”

“Nor did you
consider
it. It didn’t even enter into your mental calculus, did it? You were mono-focused on your objective. You decided the priority was to alert the dorms before your colleagues were killed. Collateral damage? Risk to yourself or your teammate? You didn’t consider those factors. You chose the path you thought had the maximum probability of success, compartmentalized your feelings, executed your plan, and dealt with the emotional baggage later. As in New York, every action you took was hard to predict. But you also learned from your errors. This time, every strike you chose was overwhelming.” Albright chuckled to himself. “You traded in your pipe for a pipe bomb. No wonder you fascinate her. You two are like the opposite sides of the same coin.”