Episode Seven: The Mind That Wanted The World

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The Mind That Wanted the World
(continued)

The robot, Gwen observed, was identical to the ones Steve had faced in Skink, and obviously wielded the same magnetic rays. Too dazed to move, she watched it stalk back around the building as the bikers removed her wrist-radio, her wallet and her gun, copped a quick feel and dragged her inside. From the pain in her chest, she feared she’d broken a rib.

The gleaming machines and lab equipment inside the brightly-lit warehouse belied the decrepit exterior. From somewhere in another room, Elvis Presley blasted from a record player.

“Excellent work, Snake.” Caldwell approached, clutching a file-folder and smiling. He fished a roll of bills out of his pocket and tossed it to one of the bikers. “Consider it a bonus. Her partner?”

“Don’t think he’s with her,” Snake replied. “We sent one of the robots to search.”

They probably said something like…fetch the driver. Gwen hid a smile. If Steve didn’t break any bones, maybe there’s a chance.

“Well, her thuggish aide is no threat.” Caldwell’s expression, his whole body language had changed. “But you, Agent Montgomery, you set that trap for Adam, which means you figured out Caldwell was only a mask. Brilliant work—but fortunately, I’ve been thwarting police longer than you’ve been alive.”

“And you are?” Gwen said. A mask. I guess that settles that.

“Torgo. So how much do you know?”

“That you’re some form of ceecee.” Telling him stuff he probably knew they knew might buy time. “We’re already working on new tests to prove it.”

“Your tests assume a constant mental presence; all I had to do was withdraw from his body briefly.” Caldwell—Torgo—smiled. “It helped he had no idea I was there; he thinks I crashed in the asteroid belt moments after his magnetic telescope spotted my ship. But I used my equipment to travel the telescope beam, enter his mind and eventually put my plans in motion while he slept. When he finally realized the truth, I extinguished him.”

“We know you’re behind the smuggling ring, and the magnetic robots—”

“Child’s play. Magnetic technology is the basis of my native civilization.”

“And we know you’ve been using Newman to steal equipment. And that he’s an android.”

“He should never have gone back to Ryan’s lab.” Caldwell stroked his jaw. “Synthetic bodies on my world are much more—compliant.”

“How did you talk Ryan into growing him?”

“Black mail.” He hefted the folder and smiled smugly. “As effective on your world as my own, though the subject matter is very different. You humans, with your sex drive, the ecstasy your bodies are capable of, I can understand why it drives you to such foolish decisions.” He drew a deep, admiring breath as he studied her breasts. “Your body is superb, Agent Montgomery—but you’re too dangerous to keep alive.”

“You want to add cop-killing to your crimes? Now that SI knows the location of your lab—”

“They don’t. We both know you couldn’t contact anyone. And nothing Science Investigations knows about Caldwell will be of any use after tonight.

“And for the record, I have killed many more ‘cops.’ than you.” He pointed at Snake. “Another microwave death would create too much of a pattern. Better she disappears—take her to the dock, weigh her down and throw her into the water.”

“Can we have a little fun with her first?” Snake’s voice was belligerent. “The boys been sitting guard duty all night—”

“No.” Caldwell raised his hand, showing a small white disc on the palm; the bearded man flinched back. “If I can’t risk having her, neither can you.”

Snake and a man he called Charlie dragged Gwen out. In her current state, she reluctantly conceded, she didn’t have a ghost of a chance.

---

If this works, I’m in, Steve thought, hefting the brick. If it doesn’t—hell, I’ll never get anywhere being a pessimist.

Steve hurled it through the nearest second-story, saw light shine out of the blackened window as an alarm pealed out, and raced around the corner to the back of the building—or as close to racing as he could manage. He leaned against the wall for a second, to catch his breath, then made himself move.

If I can get inside while the alarm’s already ringing— Steve wrapped his hand in his jacket and broke a second window, as quietly as possible. And if there’s nobody there waiting. And I don’t pass out… Finding help might have been smarter, but with the car gone and his wrist-radio smashed in the crash, he’d never make it in time to save Gwen.

Steve wriggled through heavy curtains and collapsed on a thick carpet in a dim red light. A woman shackled to a bed sat up, naked. “Help me! Please, you’ve got to help me.”

“Keep quiet.” Steve staggered to his feet, saw she was chained there. “Who—”

“Justine. Justine Mills.” The name came out with an odd choked sob. “He said he kidnapped me because it’s the name of a French book. He—he reads from it sometimes, then he—he does things—”

“Hey!” An angry fist slammed on the door of the room. “You whining in there again? Better shut the hell up!”

“Don’t shut up,” Steve hissed. He saw a wooden post near the door with chains hanging from it; he staggered over to it, lifted it up, felt his arms scream at the weight of it. “Now!”

Justine screamed.

“Goddamn bitch!” The man flung the door wide and stepped inside. “I’ll give you—”

Steve half swung the pole, half dropped it on the biker’s head and saw him collapse, blood running from his scalp. Steve glanced outside, saw the velvet-carpeted corridor was empty. “I’ll be back, I promise—once I get the guy who did this.”

He tucked the biker’s Magnum in his waistband and headed down the hall. He heard hopeful cries for help from behind some of the doors, but he didn’t allow himself to stop.

---

Snake’s foot pressing down on Gwen’s back, pinning her to the wood of the dock, made the pain in her ribs worse. It did not, however, worry her as much as the clink of heavy chains Charlie had picked up.

“Of course, I’d like a piece, Charlie,” Snake said, “but you wanna blow the long green we’re getting from Caldwell? Or have him kill us the way he did that other dude? And it’s not like there’s a chick shortage around here. So, let’s wrap her up.”

“No, wait!” Gwen put on her best terrified voice.

The toe of Snake’s boot kicked her kidneys. She couldn’t help gasping. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up, bitch?”

“You told me not to yell, I’m not. You don’t have to kill me, Snake, Caldwell doesn’t have to know. I’ll go, I’ll hide somewhere—I’ll do anything to save my life, anything.”

“Stuck-up bitch like you got nothing for us,” Charlie snorted. “We can find whores who’ll do—”

“Whores do it for money. I do it for fun. Things like—” She made a suggestion. Charlie’s jaw dropped. “If I’m good enough, then you’ll let me live, please? Is it a deal?”

“Why, sure, baby.” She heard Snake give a low rumbling laugh. “You treat us real good, of course we’ll let you live.”

“Thank you, thank you.” His foot lifted off her back. Without a word, she scuttled on all fours to Al and kissed the toe of his left boot. She began to work her way up from there.

They liked it. She’d known they would.

In fact, they were so excited by her performance, neither thought about the boot knife strapped to Charlie’s right leg. Not until she reached over, snatched it free, and stabbed upwards.

---

The distant sound of Elvis Presley stopped as Steve reached the end of two rows of magnetic robots, all of them, fortunately, inactive. He’d seen nothing of Caldwell, nothing of Gwen.

But a couple of rooms away, he heard what had to be Adam Newman’s voice and headed towards it.

“This ‘treatment’ you wish for me. I don’t see why I have to do it now!” The sulky tone sounded odd in such a deep, noble voice. “I want to go out, and steal more things!”

“Without the treatment to strengthen your body, you’re going to die.”

“I feel fine!” The door ahead was slightly open; Steve could hear them on the other side. He leaned against a table, trying to find strength, wondering what good strength would do against Newman.

“But you’re not fine,” Caldwell said. “Ryan made a mistake. Once tonight is over, you can steal anything you want.”

“And then maybe I’ll kiss you goodbye, daddio.” The slang sounded odd too, like Cary Grant playing a beatnik. “I heard one of the Angels say that. I like them. They are—rebels. Like me.”

“You’ve done everything I asked, Adam. If you wish to leave now, that’s your choice. But you won’t have any choices if you don’t enter the vat, now.”

Steve cracked the door open in time to see Newman shedding his clothes at the foot of a metal ladder. At the top was a glass sphere, three-quarters full of liquid the color of good scotch. A couple of big glass probes thrust into the liquid, with electric coils inside them; they were attached to a humming machine that took up one wall of the room.

“It’s deep,” Newman said as he climbed the ladder. “I can’t swim yet.”

“The chemicals will provide oxygen directly through your skin, Adam. Don’t worry—you know I care about your life as if it were my own.”

After a second’s hesitation, Newman dived in. Fluid splashed over the rim as he sank, then returned to the surface with an awkward dog paddle.

With a smile, Caldwell strode to the machine and flung a switch. The two probes glowed and Newman went limp. “Finally, I have your cooperation, so to speak. I wanted more radium before I took this step, but your rebelliousness has forced my hand.”

As he adjusted the dials, Steve stepped through the doorway and raised his gun. “Get away from there, Caldwell. Whatever you were working on, it’s over.”

“So, Gwendolyn wasn’t alone.” Caldwell raised his hands, fists clenched. “It seems my hirelings on this world are as witless as the ones I left behind.”

“Where’s Gwen?” Steve saw a wall phone and moved toward it, keeping his gun trained on Caldwell, despite how his hand shook.

“Drowned by now. If the afterlife this world believes in exists, you’ll join her soon.” His palm opened; something white flashed and the butt of Steve’s gun burned red hot. He dropped it, tried to pick it up, but it was too hot to touch. “A crude device, but effective enough for you.”

A horrible burning pain welled up inside Steve. Gritting his teeth, he drew the biker’s gun, ignoring the blisters on his hands, and fired. Caldwell ducked behind his machine; for a second, the burning stopped.

But I’ll never make it to him alive. Steve swung the gun up, feeling as if it weighed a ton, and fired at the sphere. If I can get Newman out of there, maybe he can help. The first shot went low, but Steve somehow raised the gun, emptying the clip into the sphere below Newman. Glass shattered, a flood of chocolate-scented chemicals washed over Steve, then Newman’s body slammed into him. Steve hit the floor with Newman’s nine-inch dick on top of his face. The android gave a choked gasp, tried to rise, and collapsed back onto him.

“No!” He heard Caldwell’s anguished voice drawing closer. “You stupid meddling fool, you interrupted the bio-adjustment! This body is dead! My body!”

Next second, Steve’s entire arm felt like it was on fire. “Strong. Invincible. Immortal. And you destroyed it!” The fire began to spread across Steve’s skin; he tried to move, but nothing responded. “I think it’s time for an experiment, Flanagan. How long can I microwave you without killing you?”

“Let’s consider two other alternatives.” It was Gwen’s voice; Steve’s heart sang. “Surrender, Torgo. Or I shoot you.”

“How could you—but of course I surrender.” The pain stopped, Steve heard Caldwell move. “I have no—”

The shot came out of the blue, then Steve heard Caldwell stagger back, catch on Newman’s leg and splash into the chemical pool. “No. You—you—”

“I don’t know what that palm disc does, but I saw how the bikers reacted when you aimed it at them.” Steve felt Gwen’s hands on his ankles, slowly jerking him free; she grunted as if it hurt. “You okay, Steve?”

“I’ll…live. The…bikers…”

“Rushed out to investigate an alarm. Your work?” He let her help him to his feet, decided not to ask why she was streaked with blood and oil, then half-fell into the nearest chair. He sat limply, looking at the blood leaking from Caldwell’s ribs into the amber pool, conscious his own cuts from the windshield stung wherever the chemicals had touched them.

“I cannot—end like this.” Impossibly, Caldwell’s lips were still moving. “I am Shantari. We don’t die. You’ve got to—” Gwen crossed to the wall phone, gun still trained on the man. “Please…”

“Turner?” Gwen said. “It’s Gwen.” Steve heard her give the address and a few details. “And an ambulance for my partner…thanks.”

She sank into a chair with a groan, then hefted her gun into her lap. “Steve—you were right to suspect Caldwell. I shouldn’t have—jumped to conclusions about Miss St. James.”

“S’okay, but—Caldwell has…prisoners. White—white slavery—”

“They’re safe now. Thanks to you.”

Steve would have responded, but there was a lead weight on the end of his tongue. Instead he focused his eyes on Caldwell’s body, no longer moving, lying next to Newman’s corpse. Torgo had lost, they’d won; if Steve’s face didn’t hurt so much, he’d have smiled.

 

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