- •The Growing chapter one
- •It’s not a question, and everyone realizes it.
- •I’m not gonna look. I won’t and you can’t make me.
- •It is waiting for her at the bridge.
- •In a related story (a 14) the Palace had "no comment" to Tonight Show host Jay Leno’s remark that His Majesty King Charles is an early, unmarketable Westerhaus test model.
- •I’m going to die.
- •It is what she had intended to do in any case. She had not expected to have allies. Koda nods. "Count me in."
- •In an automatic reflex, Dakota looks over at the nightstand, but of course, the clock that stands there is blank without the electricity needed to run it.
- •I have Asi.
- •I have summoned her here. Watch, and see.
- •It’s Maggie’s turn to sigh. “Much as I don’t like it, I think I’m going to have to split them into smaller squads.”
- •It is not what she has forgotten. It is who she has left behind.
- •It has been so quiet for the last several miles that Kirsten starts at the sound of Micah’s voice. “Pardon? Dragons?”
- •It is much too big to be a fox.
- •It does not explain the familiarity.
- •It is a dangerous mind trap when there is no hope, and Kirsten only manages to scramble out when she notices the shining silver bands around the necks of what she now recognizes to be androids.
- •It is not disabled, certainly not destroyed. Its logic chains have simply returned a null set upon evaluating the possible success of further resistance.
- •I am not strong enough. Not wise enough.
- •I will go back, she says.
- •It doesn’t have to be that way, Little k. Her father’s voice intrudes into her thoughts, frustrating her with its always maddening logic. Nothing’s keeping you locked inside. Nothing except you.
- •It is a peaceful time that appeals to her need for solitude.
- •It’s time to buck it up and call a spade a spade, little k.
- •Ithanchan winan. The thought comes unbidden. This woman is a chief.
- •It seems a lifetime but is perhaps five minutes later that Kirsten raises a hand to her earpiece. “They’re here.”
- •Instantly serious, Maggie snaps, “And—“
- •If she only knew how.
- •Item: Article 120. Rape and Carnal Knowledge
- •Item: Article 128 Assault
- •Item: Article 81. Conspiracy.
- •In Russian.
- •Is there still a United States? If so, is there a Constitution?
- •Insh’allah.
- •It is dismissal. Maggie rises, snapping her attaché case shut. "Thank you for your time, General."
- •It does, though only briefly, and she feels almost faint with relief as it passes on, leaving her untouched.
- •In those eyes, she can see visions; bits and pieces of his life, and hers, and the bond that draws them together closer than kin.
- •It is the silence during a gathering storm. "Fine! You want to kill yourself? Be my guest. I hope you have fun doing it."
- •It is over in an instant of an instant, but when she opens her eyes, she knows that she has been forever changed. Koda is smiling at her, a sweet, tender smile filled with so much, with…everything.
- •It comes, then; a deep, Caribbean blue that nurtures and soothes, and settles over her, leaving nothing within untouched.
- •I’m in love with her.
- •In plain language, Manny had potted the bastard right between the eyes, blowing his brains out. The said bastard had been dead before he hit the ground.
- •Instinctively responding to Dakota’s tone, Shannon relaxes, slumping against the wall and breathing deeply, as if she’s just come out of a trance.
- •In this life, in the next. For all time.
- •In the silence of her mind, a wolf howl rises to the floating moon.
- •If he were right. . . And it seems he is, though not in the way he expected.
- •It had been the third suicide in as many weeks, and people—too many people—were looking to her for answers she didn’t have.
- •It takes twenty minutes, with much grinding of gears and spinning of wheels, but Andrews jerks the pickup to a stop just on top of the slope and just short of the trees.
- •It is nothing, however, to the beatific expression on Manny’s face, framed in the rear-view mirror. "Good bread, good meat," he says reverently. "Good God, let’s eat."
- •Very gently she says, “It’s not going to be the same, no. In some ways, it may be better. Or there may be no one left to care. We just don’t know yet.”
- •Very gently she says, “It’s not going to be the same, no. In some ways, it may be better. Or there may be no one left to care. We just don’t know yet.”
- •I wonder. . . .
- •It is only then that she notices the frightful cold pressed against her right side, melded to her like a block of ice that has melted and refrozen.
- •It is a tone she well remembers, and instinctively heeding it, she begins to do as ordered. After a couple of spoonfuls, however, she pauses, the soup sitting heavy in her belly. “Ate, I….”
- •It is a long almost. But when she walks through the front door, into Asi’s exuberant greeting and Dakota’s arms, she is as well as she has ever been in her life.
- •If they survive this battle, their first priority must be to make contact with other surviving communities and make alliance with them.
- •If her plan works, he will not need to.
- •Voices come to her on the wind of her passing, but she does not heed them. "Surrender," she says.
- •Intolerable.
- •It is only when the dynamic duo has left the office and the door closes quietly behind them that she lets the smile bloom fully over her face. With a jaunty little whistle, she turns back to work.
- •I miss him, she says without sound.
- •It's not a question, and she doesn't have it within her to demur. Not now. Instead, she nods.
- •It is a better one to live.
- •I am on your ground, Igmu-tanka. Teach me patience.
- •It is what she does not know that frightens her. "All right!" she shouts, stepping up to the crest of the ridge. "Move out!"
- •I’m hallucinating.
- •It is over.
- •In the guardshack above, Kirsten’s jaws clench tighter and a thick vein throbs to prominence at her temple.
- •Very carefully, she lets go of Simmons' gun, handing it to Koda. She meets her lover's eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not going to give him anything."
- •In its wake, a silence so profound that not even the ever-present wind soughing through the boughs of the large pines surrounding them can penetrate, descends, and Kirsten shivers.
- •I’d kill for a hot bath. No, not kill. Maybe maim somebody, though. Starting with Hunk-boy here.
- •It is either dry humor or stupidity; Koda opts for the former. "We aren’t. We are hungry, though. Chasing that antelope right into your sights was hard work."
- •I made it, though. Made it without help.
- •I would know you in the silence between the stars. The thought is her own, and not. And with it comes another. I see you in the darkness, like a flash of lightning. And the darkness cannot hide you.
- •In the west, where the stone holds a raven’s wing and a bowl of Kirsten’s irises and gentians, another priestess raises her hands and makes the invocation.
- •Ina Maka, Koda prays as the women disperse to feast and celebrate. Give us strength and wisdom to do what we must do. Let the death end. Let the life come forth again.
- •It is not a small honor, and Koda says quietly. "Thank you. But we can’t stay."
- •It is that tone, even more than her words, that confuses him and causes his steps to slow. "You wouldn’t…."
- •In the end, it is mercifully easy. Where you go, I go, she thinks, lowering the rifle and setting it on the cold, gray floor.
- •It ends here, she thinks, opening her eyes to the still monotonous view of the security screens. It all ends here.
- •It will not stop them. It will force them to break the door or go around the building to the other stairwell, and that will buy her time. Buy Kirsten time.
- •Venous blood.
- •Ina Maka says, "Every soul that passes from the Earth comes to Me. Not all come here, to this place—only My chosen ones. But for them, as for the others, a reckoning must be made. You know this."
- •I can die when I get outside.
- •Virgilius’ termination had been evidence of Kirsten’s success. This is confirmation. "You did it," Koda breathes, marveling. "It’s over."
In the end, it is mercifully easy. Where you go, I go, she thinks, lowering the rifle and setting it on the cold, gray floor.
She looks back up at the man again. "If you’re telling the truth, help her. Please."
With a nod, the stranger comes down to his haunches and gathers Dakota as one would an injured child, then stands, lifting her easily in his arms. "Come. There is a safe place nearby."
Fifty feet down the hallway, the man makes a left turn through a door that opens on silent hinges. Kirsten follows, then stops as her eyes set upon the interior. "A kitchen?!" she demands. "She needs help, not food!"
"Patience."
The stranger is lucky that his face is turned away at that moment, for if Kirsten had seen the word he uttered, he may well have found himself in a world of hurt.
Laying Dakota down near the sink, he moves to, of all things, the microwave, sitting by itself on an island, and quickly punches several buttons. Kirsten watches his actions with an expression of patent disbelief. Her jaw then unhinges as her lover’s steel-spring taut form suddenly relaxes and her eyes flutter closed.
"Dakota!" she cries, striding across the small space separating them and dropping to her knees, gathering the limp form tightly against her breast as tears spring to her eyes.
Koda’s strength returns in a surge and she hugs Kirsten to her tightly before releasing her and tilting her lover’s head so that her lips can be easily read. "I’m okay, canteskuye. I’m ok."
Needing to actually hear the confirmation, Kirsten thumbs her implants back on and listens to the music of Koda’s easy breaths and the beating of the valiant heart she can hear when she presses her ear against Dakota’s chest. "Thank God," she murmurs. "Thank God."
"The microwaves have a dampening effect on the white noise," the stranger says, looking a bit discomfited by the emotional display before him. "Unfortunately, the relief is temporary at best."
Dakota gives a short nod, expecting this, as Kirsten lifts her head and glares at their savior. "Who are you and why are you doing this," she demands.
"Forgive me," the stranger replies, bowing slightly at the waist. "I am Adam. Adam Virgilius. An…associate of Peter Westerhaus."
"You lie," Kirsten growls. "That bastard never had an ‘associate’ in his life."
"I think he was being sarcastic, love," Koda interjects, grasping her partner’s hand and giving it a fond squeeze.
"I was indeed," Adam answers, smiling slightly. "I’ve worked for him for several years, though less blind, and devoted, than he assumed. When the last step in his plan was implemented, this building was locked down and all human workers were…disposed of."
"Except you," Kirsten comments, her sarcasm thick enough to be cut to ribbons with a butter knife.
Another short bow, another half smile. "Except me," he allows, spreading his hands. "As I have said, I was less blind than he assumed. Unfortunately for me, my knowledge came a bit too late to make a full-out escape. I was, however, able to flee to the lower levels where, as you both have duly noticed, humans other than Westerhaus himself were forbidden."
"Speaking of which," Kirsten intones, eyeing the rifle that, in her unthinking flight to Dakota, she’s left on the other side of the room, "how is it that you can stand this ‘white noise’ when we can’t?"
Adam places a finger into his ear, then removes it, lowering his hand enough so that both women can easily see what looks to be a tiny microchip sitting on the pad. "The white noise you heard is a neural impulse interrupter, a very effective security precaution. This chip completely neutralizes the effect, allowing its wearer free access to all levels of this facility."
Kirsten’s eyes, already glittering slits of distrust, narrow further. "And just how were you able to score such a prize?"
With a soft laugh, Adam replies, "From Westerhaus himself, actually."
"Ah. I suppose he trusted you with his secrets so much that he just willingly gave up the keys to his kingdom. Very generous of him." She tenses, ready to make a play for the rifle.
"On the contrary. The only trust Peter Westerhaus gave was to his precious androids. This, I took from him. Not that it mattered at the time, as he certainly had no more use for it."
Kirsten thinks on this for a moment, then her face pales even as her eyes widen. "He’s dead? Westerhaus is dead?!?"
"Oh yes. On the very date he set his final plan into motion, actually."
"Wha-at? But how?"
"By his own hand."
Kirsten’s barked laugh is bitterness personified. "That figures. That just fucking figures. That yellow-bellied chickenshit coward was too spineless to even watch the destruction his fucked up plans created. Shit. Now what?!?"
"That, Doctor King, depends entirely on you."
"Alright, that’s it. How in the hell do you know my n--." Kirsten begins to rise, only to be halted by Koda’s firm squeeze to her hand.
"You were the one who opened the shaft grate," Dakota says, eyeing Adam directly.
"Yes."
"And the retinal sensors?"
"Ah. That was Mr. Westerhaus’ doing, actually." He grins at Koda’s sharply raised eyebrow, though the smile fades as he eyes the microwave timer, counting down its last minutes. "We don’t have much time. His inner sanctum is just down the hall. The answers you seek are there."
Kirsten still looks as if she wants to fight, but soon bows to the inevitable. She turns to Koda. "Maybe you should just…."
"No," Dakota quickly interjects. "We’re in this together, remember? Just give me a minute and I’ll be ready."
"Dakota--."
"Please."
A whole regiment of reasons why this is a very bad idea parading through her mind, Kirsten sighs and moves away, watching her lover intently as Dakota crosses her legs and closes her eyes. They open briefly, latching onto Adam. "This neural interrupter. Is it a steady frequency, or does it pulse?"
"There is a pulse, regulated to the average human heartbeat. Sixty eight to seventy two pulses per minute."
"Thanks." Her eyes slide closed again and her breathing deepens as she journeys through her own body in the ways of her ancestors. Her skin cools as blood is shunted to more vital organs. Her breathing and heart-rate slow. Her blood-pressure drops. When her eyes open, her pupils are dilated, like cat’s eyes, taking in all available light. Slowly, she rises to her feet, her mind fully in the present, sharp as sunlit steel. The microwave counts out its final seconds. "Turn off your implants, love." Her voice is slow, and deeper than Kirsten has ever heard it. She hastens to obey the order, for even pleasingly phrased, that’s exactly what it is. Kirsten’s world goes to silence just as the microwave timer ‘dings’ its end. A slight tremor in the long muscles of her thighs is Dakota’s only response to the neural interrupter’s return. She eyes the two before her steadily, and nods, once. "Let’s go."
* * *
True to his word, Adam leads them down the hall only a few dozen yards before stopping at Westerhaus’ door. Looking at it, Kirsten admits to herself a pang of disappointment. It is a door identical to the dozens of others they’ve passed. Beige-painted metal, like might be seen on board the Enterprise. No deep mahogany with pure gold trim and cut crystal knob. No ostentatiously scrolled signs announcing for the peons that the Boy Genius is currently in residence. Probably too paranoid, she thinks with a mental shrug. Further examination is interrupted by a tug to her sleeve. She glances to Dakota’s raised eyebrow, then to Adam, on her other side. He gestures to the door, then takes a deliberate step back, sending her nape hairs to sudden attention. Her gaze switches back to Dakota, who nods and gives her a small smile of encouragement.
Turning to the door, she takes in a deep breath, then steps forward until her eyes are level with the retinal scanner. At the same time, she presses her thumb against the print-and-DNA pad just beneath. She can’t hear the soft hum of the processor, nor the faint click of the lock disengaging, but she can see the five red lights blink to green, and so is not surprised then the door slides open, displaying the interior of Westerhaus’ office.
If the door itself is non-descript, the office within is anything but. Though if the door reminds her of the Enterprise, that comparison is doubly reinforced by an interior that looks as if it’s come straight off the Paramount lot. Touchscreen computers fit like puzzle pieces into a rainbow shaped glass table whose interior arc fronts a rather ordinary high-backed leather office chair. CPUs and server boxes rest on utilitarian tables, their processing lights blinking and strobing like signs over a carnival ride—one of the really scary ones where the rock music blares so loud that you can’t hear yourself puke.
She finds herself drawn inward, Dakota’s strong, soothing presence to her right, Adam’s to her left and a step behind. Though she can’t hear the door slide shut behind them, she’s nevertheless aware that it does, and when it does, it brings with it a feeling of being, if not trapped, at least locked in, as if the last piece of the puzzle has finally fallen into place. For better or for worse, she knows, it ends here. There is nowhere left to run. There is nowhere left to look. There is nowhere left to hide.
It ends here. It all ends here.
Her interest in computers somewhere in the horse latitudes, Dakota finds herself drawn instead to the myriad of security monitors arranged, like the Jeopardy! board, in long, neat rows, stacked one atop the other. The view on all the screens is blessedly monotonous. Empty rooms, empty corridors, empty stairwells, empty bathrooms, though the latter doesn’t surprise her. The others, though…. There are androids here. She can feel them, can feel their weight pressing in on her from above, like the sea during a dive. Her adrenals throb dully just above her kidneys and she closes her eyes, willing her heart to keep its slow, steady beat even as she becomes aware of the fact that Westerhaus’ little security surprise hasn’t filtered through into this, his inner sanctum.