Harsh Lessons, page 8
And now, all that planning was wasted.
I bet the other agents are allowed to kill whenever they like, she grumbled to herself.
But as she stomped past "soothing" woodland scenes of stupid chipmunks and swallows, a distant sound gradually penetrated her thoughts. She slowed, then stopped, tilting her head to listen. Machine gun fire!
The sound had Leeth racing to the rec room, but even as she approached, the clipped frequencies told her it was only a recording, not the real thing. Her eager sprint slumped to a disappointed walk, and she looked in from the doorway. James was grimly watching a large holo-projection occupying fully half the space inside.
She'd had to watch the newsment shows every night for the last month, now. But it wasn't the regular time, and the waif-like newscaster, Nina Summers, was doing the most serious pout Leeth had ever seen her achieve. Leeth, frowning, tried pursing her lips the same way as she crept in, wondering what it was all about.
In the trid, people were running sideways and forwards, shooting as they went. Nina and a gorgeous man with wavy golden hair, who towered over her, strolled through the center of the carnage like two translucent angels. Leeth didn't recognize the man but he, too, was looking real serious. So it had to be a news show.
The gunfire and background sounds damped down as he spoke. 'Yes, Nina, a shocking waste of life. Corporate estimates place the death toll between ten and twelve thousand, after only two days of fighting.'
'Wow,' whispered Leeth, boggling. What could slay so many people so fast? A dragon? Would they expect her to be able to do that, eventually? Twelve thousand? You'd have to be super fit. She stepped further into the room.
'That's terrible, Dan. Is the Vatican planning to send in reinforcements?'
'Hard to say. The Big Guy could choose to send in more troops, although,' he replied, his voice sinking to a conspiratorial level, 'I've heard rumors he may deploy a crack squad of New Inquisitors. I'd put money on that, Nina. They'll need magical – or holy – assistance to locate these guerrillas.'
Huh? wondered Leeth.
A hail of bullets flew through the two commentators, and camera angles shifted to move them out of the line of fire. It was true, what Uncle said: with a nice outfit you really could set a good example, show people how healthy you were. Nina was wearing a cute pink halter and a nanoskirt, revealing the sleek dragon-welt coiled round her belly button. Leeth sighed. The Department wouldn't let her get any scarwork: "No permanent distinguishing features allowed." And Uncle thought scars were ugly.
'Can you tell us anything, Dan, about the reports of the Order of the Knights Templar re-forming?'
'Well, Nina, I can. Reliable sources suggest the Knights are already back in action. Whether they'll be given a role in this conflict, and whether that escalation leads to a full-scale Holy War…' he shrugged. 'Right now we can only speculate.'
'Well, that sounds pretty important, Dan, but I'm afraid that's all we have time for now.'
'No problemo, Nina.' He turned to face the unseen audience. 'But stay tuned to Kroneco News for further details as the situation heats up, and don't forget you can participate in the action. Just access the link below to guess the number of days this conflict will run, and the total number of casualties for your chance to win-'
With a vicious gesture, James killed the projection.
'What was that?' Leeth asked.
James started in surprise, turning to face the girl. 'That was the flare-up of an old, old conflict. Engineered, I would say, because of the recent discovery of deep oil deposits offshore from Istanbul.'
'But Dan said it had only been going on for two days.'
'Dan Jackson is an idiot, and a corporate puppet. That war has been going, off and on, for centuries.'
'Oh.' Leeth stood there frowning, digesting the information. 'But I thought you only had wars against violence, or skin cancer, or pollution. That looked a lot more exciting than any of those wars.'
James narrowed his eyes. 'That's not funny, Leeth.'
She stared at him blankly.
Gradually, it dawned on him – she hadn't been joking. 'Surely, you must have seen other wars. God knows, they rate well enough these days.'
'No,' she said, still puzzled.
'But… there are thousands of sites devoted entirely to war coverage. Not to mention stimsenses, or even old 2D movies. The Battle of Britain!'
Leeth shook her head. 'I've never seen anything like that on the trid. We didn't use to get many newsments, though, at the- I mean, where we used to live.'
James stared at her.
'And I've not done any stimsenses – unless you mean VR simulations? I've done some VR for stuff like martial arts, and athletics. But Uncle doesn't like stims. He says too much secondhand experience makes you soft.'
'Your uncle-' suddenly, James had the distinct impression he stood on thin ice. Such a large blank space in her education could not have been accidental. "They didn't get many newsments?" Ridiculous. But why in god's name would the man conceal from her that wars were a fact of life – still common?
'So what are they like, wars? You're saying they're like a really big fight?'
James realized he was stuck now. 'Er, yes. Basically,'
Leeth waited for him to go on.
He didn't.
'Well, juice!' She sprang over the couch to face him. 'So, was this a big one? Is twelve thousand people a really big war, or what? Is that a record?'
'No. Nowhere near.'
Leeth stamped her foot. 'Funt, James! Unload! Would I like it?'
James's emotions ran from shock, to horror, to pity, but he tried to keep that from his expression as he stood to make a tactical withdrawal. 'I suggest you ask your uncle,' he said, and left the room.
She watched him go. What just happened? Puzzled, she decided to do exactly as he'd suggested, and made her way to her Uncle's new office.
'Keepie?'
'Mmm? What, Leeth?'
Leeth stepped inside, looking around. Trailing her fingers over the familiar spines of his printed books on their new shelves, she felt a curious pang for the Institute. What would Faith be doing, now? Sighing, she let her fingers fall. She dropped into the comfy visitor's chair in front of his work-desk, folding her bare legs up under her. 'What's the record for the most people killed in a war?'
'Mmm, oh… what?' Harmon looked up from his work. Put the stylus down. Picked it up again and began tapping. 'What kind of war do you mean?' he asked carefully.
Leeth frowned at him suspiciously. 'A proper one. With guns and knives and stuff.'
Well, that lets out d'Artelle's engineered apocalypse, Harmon thought. And the Great Conflict, too. 'In that case, I would say fifty million. Perhaps sixty.'
Her jaw dropped. 'Sixty million!' She looked stricken. Then brightened. 'But they would have been killed by lots of different people, wouldn't they? Not just one or two.'
He blinked. Oh. 'Certainly. And they would have been using weapons of large scale destruction, and often against unarmed, helpless victims.'
She looked shocked. 'So they had no chance at all? That's not fair!'
Harmon nodded.
For a while she was silent, thinking. At last, slowly, she continued. 'Who does the actual killing? Soldiers, right? But aren't soldiers… are soldiers Hunters, too?'
'A few are. A very few.' For a moment the words 'but soldiers follow orders,' teetered on his lips. Mother and Father would not thank him for drawing her to that conclusion, however: that a Huntress was different, and need not obey orders. Yet how many times had he explained that sheep did what they were told?
She still waited, he saw. And the more he thought about it, the more delicate he knew his answer must be.
'For a soldier, fighting and killing is like a job, that he does because he must. For a Hunter, fighting and killing is a way of life. Constantly testing herself against her opponents.'
Harmon held his breath, waiting.
And Leeth nodded.
He plunged past the danger point, and explained War.
Chapter 12
Leeth was bored. She'd had one session today on the pistol range with a new automated instruction program Nelson had designed. She was certain he'd deliberately made it even more annoying than Preacher. But after that she'd had a super training session with Dojo. The idea of deliberately breaking your rhythms to confuse your opponent? Genius! Plus it tied in to the idea of pausing and assessing, moment by moment.
But then she'd had another session on body language with Keepie: who'd looked like he'd wanted to be somewhere else; then a lesson with Mother. She shuddered, remembering. Ergh!
She was s'posed to be learning Mumbles now in her room. But she wasn't a troll or an ogre, and they all understood English anyway. Even if some of them couldn't speak it properly ’cause of their mutations.
She'd had to escape her room or go mad.
Wandering to the rec room, since that's where the agents hung out when they were available, her face lit up to see James there. The 3D projector made the darkened room look like the inside of a derelict spaceship. Whatever he was watching also had lots of subsonics, which she always enjoyed. Right now, a heavily-armored male mercenary with a bandage on his head and an extravagantly-chromed plasma cannon was explaining they had to carry the fight to the creature.
Leeth crept in. Uncle said too much "canned entertainment" was bad for you, but really, they were great! They also gave her ideas to try out for herself.
In this one, it seemed an alien was hunting a small group of heavily-armed mercenaries on a maze-like spaceship. While the creature hunted them, in turn. Leeth was instantly engrossed.
It's been ages since I Pounced anyone, she suddenly realized. Sinking quietly down on all fours she began slowly sneaking into the room towards James.
But the trid’s tense hunt down dark passages was actually pretty good. No sense rushing, she decided.
Now the creature was opening a cryo-storage unit where the mercenaries had put one of their critically-injured friends. A shiny black limb opened and a purplish organ extruded, covering the dead woman's face. Leeth's mouth fell open as the thing started absorbing the woman into itself.
It was budding another one of itself, she realized. She felt deliciously wicked as she settled down, just to watch for a little bit while she picked the perfect moment. Uncle didn't like her watching “silly trids.” But she wasn't watching, exactly. She was just creeping up on James real slowly.
By the time the credits started rolling, she was practically burning with excitement. She was also positioned right behind James's chair.
Arching her neck forward, she ca-a-arefully stretched out her tongue like the creature in the final scene, and slid it wetly behind his ear.
James exploded. One hand smashed out, and she only just deflected it, taking the impact of his other arm on hers as he spun around.
James has cyberware! she realized, recognizing the familiar burst of ultrasonics from powered muscles and the sudden increase in his speed. But then he froze, recognizing her. She saw him trembling, as if his automatic cybernetic systems fought his natural muscles.
From some of the tricks she'd played on Faith, Leeth recognized the signs, and ducked her head to hide her smile, finally looking up to shrug a half apology.
For his part, muscle and nerve augments online, body still vibrating with adrenaline and threat assessments still crowding his vision, James swore at her. 'I could have killed you!' he began, fists clenched, as the crazed animal trying to batter its way free of his chest changed slowly back into a normal human heart.
He could see the impish grin Leeth thought she’d concealed.
He spent several minutes succinctly explaining the error of her actions before seeing it was having as much effect as a literary criticism on an alligator.
The delighted grin still struggled beneath her more serious expression, and her next question only reinforced his assessment. 'What is the scariest thing you know, James?'
Sighing, he gave up trying to scold her. Then, after a little thought, queried the Bureau's databank. He sent the lights down again as a flat picture appeared on the wall screen. The scene was a little jumpy, and Leeth realized it must have been shot from something like a lapel camera.
'This footage is classified, you understand? It's what happened when seven highly trained men, including two very strong mages and a powerful shaman, attempted to arrest Melisande d'Artelle.'
At the hiss of her indrawn breath, he turned to her, pleased he didn't have to explain the identity of the former Enemy of Mankind. Indeed, Leeth's attention had locked on the woman with more focus than he'd ever seen from her. But was there something more, there?
Something about her expression disturbed him. An element of… satisfaction? Ownership? Half his attention stayed on Leeth as the playback continued.
In a large office, with a view down onto the Empire State Building, a woman – Melisande d'Artelle – dressed in an elegantly-tailored cream suit and tasteful jade necklace, faced seven dangerous-looking men. All wore Interpol uniforms; all were heavily armed and armored.
Between the men and the woman, a huge simulacrum of an office copier-thing rolled ominously forward, buckling the ceiling as it came. But with a casual brushing motion of one of D'Artelle’s hands, the bizarrely-animated device collapsed, shattering into pieces that flew across the room and out of sight, with the sound of a metal river crashing into a bus shelter.
James paused the action. 'That was a very large office spirit she so casually dismissed. But watch.' Leeth didn't look at him; merely nodded as if she'd expected no less. After a moment, frowning, he continued the playback.
The wearer of the camera started to speak, over the sound of still-falling pieces of equipment. Strangely, everyone in the room was acting like nothing at all had just happened. 'Madam d'Artelle, I am placing you under arrest-'
Ignoring the speaker, d'Artelle simply looked at the two mages, who exploded back across the room in flames. The other men's guns jumped as if they were about to fire, then suddenly, amazingly, all relaxed back again into simple alertness. The shaman alone looked confused, shaking his head and seemingly trying to focus himself.
James glanced across at Leeth, who sat hunched forward now, her hands like claws, looking like she wanted to throw herself into the scene. Her lips moved, and his analysis software told him what she'd whispered: “She's tricking them.”
But despite feeling there was something more behind Leeth's intensity, he couldn't help but be sucked back to the horrible scene.
Although light from the two burning men reflected off the large picture windows, no one seemed to notice. The woman licked her lips and turned, smiling, to the shaman, while the speaker continued sternly on, apparently unaware of the deaths around him.
'-on the charges of treason, mass murder,-'
A strange light flared around the shaman before it collapsed inside him. An instant later, the man screamed as flesh flowed like syrup down his bones. Once more the weapons twitched, but again only for a moment.
James watched Leeth's lips move, and saw her nod.
'-illegal genetic experiments,-'
Another man silently fell to the floor. No one reacted, unless you counted the small smile that twitched at the corners of d'Artelle's mouth.
'-kidnaping,-'
An instantly-silenced scream sounded from the next man, as his shotgun flew from his hands. Limbs snapping tautly outward as if racked, his spine bent backwards, each jerking movement matched by the sickening sound of tearing gristle. At last, as if released by an invisible force, he slid to the floor.
'-use of mind-altering magic,-'
The irony of that statement was an added cruelty, as the speaker remained oblivious to the slaughter around him.
The last man in camera shot simply vanished.
At that, finally, James saw Leeth startle, then pale.
'-and making ecologically damaging bargains with Greater Inorganic beings.'
The woman smiled graciously, rising and stepping daintily from behind her large desk. 'If I am so dangerous, monsieur, should you perhaps not have brought some men with you?'
She had a faint French accent.
Several seconds of silence followed, the camera panning from side to side, strongly suggesting confusion. But it didn't linger on any of the corpses around the room; as if the camera-owner couldn't see them.
'I- I am quite prepared to use this weapon, madam.'
She smiled and bowed her head, and something red and black flashed out from her a moment before the clip ended.
-
For a while, neither of them moved; then Leeth exhaled deeply and James spoke. 'As I said, that was Melisande d'Artelle. The woman who made the World Storms, the Red Plague, and orchestrated the Melt virus. Who caused, indirectly, two billion deaths, a hundred million minds ruined, fifty million mutations.'
Leeth’s eyes met his briefly, then slid away. 'Yeah.'
Familiarity. That was it. That was what her expression told him. Goosebumps prickled across his skin, but he forged on. 'We only have that footage because it was being broadcast. By the time the backup teams got into the office, she was gone.' How could Leeth be familiar with d'Artelle? There was very little footage of the witch, and she'd been killed fourteen years ago. Leeth would have been scarcely a child.
'She didn't kill them herself though, did she? Not personally. It was the storms and the plague that killed most of them.'
James looked at her strangely, realizing she wasn't talking about the grisly magical slaughter she'd just seen, but about the indirect deaths. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected.
'Didn't Lord Lao Pi Shen, um, kill her in the end?' she asked.
'That is what he's supposed to have said, just before he closed off China to the rest of the world. Which was six months after his dramatic return and rise to power. Some people think he was hunting her, that entire six months.'
