Superego (17 page)

There were three of them, each kneeling behind a child, with other children seated in the back of the room. I could easily have jumped in there and killed the three if I didn't care about the children. And, well, I
didn't
care about the children. But I was committed to pretending I did.

“If you take another step toward us, we'll kill them all!” one of the terrorists yelled. Pretty boilerplate threat for this sort of situation; not very impressive.

“If you had a bomb, you would have set if off by now.” I drew my second gun.

“There is a bomb in the building! And we'll shoot the children!”

“That's what you came here to do, isn't it?” They were already scared, but not scared enough. With the situation as it was, I didn't know how I could shoot the terrorists without a good chance of hitting a child or of taking so long in aiming my shots that I might get shot myself. I'd have to provoke them to make the situation more to my liking. “And why are you assuming I care about the children? In fact, I'm hoping you kill them; it will give me an excuse for what I'm planning next. I'm a killer, you see; I like it when people die. That's no challenge, though. What I'm wondering is how many times I can shoot you and
not
kill you. That would be interesting.”

“We will start shooting!”

“I really hope the not-killing-you thing works out, because that makes the next part so much more fun. You see, I'm going to find where you worshipped and then find your families. Then I'm going to kill them—but I'll take my time doing it. I'm a real artist in that regard. Then I'm going to visit you in the hospital and show you all the nice pictures I took.”

One of them started to shout something but was cut off. I didn't know why, but it seemed like an opportunity. I jumped into the classroom and saw Diane behind the terrorists, one now clearly dead. Best I could assess from the scene was that she had gotten behind one of them without being noticed—obviously using me as a diversion—pulled his head back, then fired through the back of his head. The other two were surprised enough to let go of the children in front of them as they turned to shoot at Diane, leaving me enough room to work with. I fired both guns simultaneously, and the school was now free from terror.

Yay, me. Again.

I didn't know how much of my speech she'd heard, but that was a question for later. “I think that's that,” I said.

She glanced at me, her face that cold mask again. It quickly crumbled as she saw the crying children. “It's okay, you're all safe now,” she told them very calmly and with a pleasant smile. “Let's get out of the building now. Single file.”

Some of the kids seemed a little too shocked to move. I yelled at them, “Get out of the building! All of you! Come on!” I motioned toward the door, and all the children were now moving, taking cautious looks at the corpses.

As Diane walked by me, she took one last look at the terrorist she had killed, her expression once again unreadable. She looked at me and seemed to snap out of a trance, giving me a smile that was a little less fake than the one she'd given the kids. “Thanks again. Glad you're here, Rico.”

I touched her on the shoulder. “It's where I need to be.” What a cheesy thing to say. Wasn't sure why I said it. Then she smiled more fully. That was why.

As we exited the building, the SWAT team and bomb squad had just arrived and were swarming the place. One of the SWAT guys immediately ran up to us and asked, “The terrorists?”

“I think they're all dead.” I killed any I saw, at least.

“Did you see the bomb?”

“I think they were bluffing about that.”

He did not look reassured. “Some radiological elements were detected at one of their hideouts. We think they have a dirty bomb.”

“Oh.” That's all I thought to say. I really didn't want to get blown up by a bomb, especially some crude one made by the Calabrai. I thought I deserved better, though I had always imagined that my death would one day be pretty stupid.

“One's alive!” one of the paramedics yelled as they brought out one of the terrorists on a stretcher. It was hard to believe I'd shot one and left him alive, but the whole make-sure-you-don't-shoot-children thing had confused me and probably messed with my technique.

“Can we question him?” SWAT asked.

I looked at the terrorist. He was a human whom I had shot through the chest back in the classroom. It didn't seem likely he would last much longer.

“He's failing fast,” the paramedic said. “We need to give him Fazium, which means we have to induce a coma first.”

I grabbed the paramedic by the arm. “No, you don't. Fazium works just fine without the body being in a coma.”

He looked shocked. “But the pain….”

“There may be a bomb about to go off here and kill everyone. Let's worry about that.” I put on my very serious face. “Give him the Fazium.”

Perhaps my face was too serious, as the paramedic froze. I grabbed the drug from him. The SWAT officer looked like he was about to do something, but I just gave him a glance, and he backed off. I walked over to the terrorist and stood over him. “I don't know what you know about Fazium, but it's going to save your life while making you wish we'd killed you. Want to tell us about the bomb?”

He was fading out of consciousness and didn't seem to hear me.

I injected the Fazium. It's a substance that is basically programmed with how a human is put together (the same version of the drug won't work on any other species) and bonds with the patient's DNA to get the specific sequences and structures. It then crudely hacks the body back into working order by replicating cells and forcing things back together as quickly as possible. And it does all this with no regard for the body's nerve cells, which it tends to light up throughout the entire body as it does its work. Supposedly, it feels like the body is being ripped apart from the inside with shards of glass passing through your every vein. At least that's how it was described by one person who wasn't properly sedated beforehand, though it was hard to get anything coherent out of that man for the rest of his life.

I guess some people can't take a little pain.

After the Fazium was administered, the man just lay there silently for a couple moments.

Then he twitched a little. And then he started flailing like mad while screaming his lungs out.

I was quickly on top of him, holding him down by his shoulders. “Where's the bomb?!” I shouted at him, raising my voice so it could be heard over his screaming—but it was a losing battle. His screams just kept getting louder, and I could barely hold him down. His strength was inhuman, and I could tell he was about to push me off. “Tell me about the bomb!” I yelled again, but I couldn't hear myself over his shrieking. “This will stop when you tell us about the bomb!”

My arm was yanked away, and I was now facing Diane, who screamed at me, “He can't even hear you!”

There was now a crowd around me—including some children—looking on in horror. “Yeah, I guess not.”

The man had flopped out of his stretcher and was now flailing around on the ground, screaming so hard you'd think his lungs would burst. A couple of paramedics jumped on him and injected him with something, and he went silent.

Diane was still holding my arm tightly, though she didn't look mad anymore, just exasperated. A number of the people gathered around looked at me like I was some sort of monster. Was I supposed to feel bad about this? It was possible that a bomb—one intended for children, mind you—was about to explode and kill us all. Someone had to take action. This is why I'm much more comfortable in situations where I don't have to care what other people think. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only person in the universe who takes things seriously.

CHAPTER 20

“Hana's son and daughter are fine. She's with them now.”

It was as if Diane read my mind and picked the absolute opposite of anything I cared about to tell me. “Good,” I replied. I forced a little smile.

“She wanted me to pass on her thanks.”

“Just doing what had to be done.” Because apparently everyone else is too incompetent. “Any word on the bomb?”

“Nothing solid yet, but they're pretty sure there isn't one in the school.” Diane was driving us back to the police station (my favorite place). When I had the opportunity, I was going to berate Dip for not having been able to give me a warning about where one of the attacks would occur so I could steer clear of it. That was a very pointless risk of my life. Still, it looked like this terrorism problem was finally over. I hoped I'd soon find out why I was really on this planet.

Diane's face was very intense. Something was weighing on her—maybe that she'd had to kill again. It seemed burdensome to have to care about such things. At least she was able to make sure those emotions only came out after and not during a shooting. “I never did ask you how you snuck into the classroom to surprise them like that.”

“I've been there before to talk to Hana's son's class about being a police officer. Justin had shown me how the closets at the back of the classrooms are shared between two rooms. Makes a convenient little secret passageway.”

“So you just jumped right in there?”

“I thought they had a bomb. Seemed like the only option. You kind of got ahead of me, so I wasn't able to give you a heads-up.” She gave an askew smile. “But thanks for the distraction there.”

The thought that Diane had heard what I'd said to the terrorists gave me this weird, warm feeling in my face; I wasn't sure what that was. “Oh, you heard all that. I was just trying to goad them into a mistake.”

She chuckled. “Good to know you can pretend to be a psychopath when needed. So do you work with a partner on Rikar?”

“Not often…We're spread thin, so I'm pretty used to going it alone.”

“I've been called a loner, too. Does make it simpler when things get chaotic, but I've started to learn the value of having someone to watch your back.”

No. Having to look out for the survival of someone else offers far too many complications. It was pretty hard for me to see that as a good tradeoff. “Sorry I charged in again without you.”

“Wasn't looking for an apology. What are you now? Three times a hero?” She smiled at me.

It was true. I was pretty awesome. No hero just admits that, though. I tried to think of something else to say that would be relevant to the situation and remembered the stupid dead cop. “Sorry about Officer Randall. He seemed like a good man.”

Her smile faded, and she was silent for a moment. “He was an ass. Probably should never have been on the police force.” She smiled slightly again. “But he died trying to save the lives of children. Not much more you can ask from anyone.”

I nodded. I still couldn't sympathize with people's fascination with children (though I logically understood it as an evolutionary directive). I was just happy I'd barely traumatized any children today—and I really hate them for some reason. I'm guessing it's their stupidity and the disproportionately sized heads, which I just find creepy. I glanced at her and softened my expression more. “You doing okay?” I was getting good at this; I almost convinced myself I cared.

She looked down. She softened her voice. “Thinking I might quit. Seriously this time.”

Strange idea. She was the only one on her police force who seemed to know what she was doing. “Why?” I asked.

“I just want to make sure I don't have to kill anymore. I don't like…what it makes me.”

“What do you mean?” I've seen beings get emotional about killing; she seemed to take it really well, actually.

“It's…complicated.” She flashed me a nervous smile. “I should tell you, I have a
lot
of baggage.”

“Oh, well, that's too bad. I'm basically exactly what you see.” I chuckled a little but realized she wouldn't exactly get the full context of that sarcasm.

“I know there's something more to you, but I'll leave that as your business. Again, I'm just glad you're here right now.” She drove her vehicle into the police station parking lot. “Well, not right here. I have a feeling this is going to be crappy.”

I was really getting tired of the police station—especially the people inside it who kept taking my weapons. As I'd learned from my encounter on the tram, I might have had assassins on my tail, and I didn't really want a repeat of trying to take them on unarmed. Well, if they attacked again soon, at least I'd have cops around to protect me.

Yes, I'm being sarcastic.

There was a more somber mood in the station this time, as they had lost an officer. Officer Meela was back, and Diane went over to comfort her—which consisted of taking Meela's hand and whispering a few things. I think I could have faked comforting someone better than she did, but I didn't care enough right now. My main concern was to confirm this terrorism threat was behind me…not that I knew what that would mean for me next.

Chief Rudle approached us wearing a pretty stoic expression. “Come on into my office.”

Diane and I followed him in and sat down. “I just couldn't keep you two out of this, could I? Do you know what this looks like, that I have some off-planet cop running around here, shooting and torturing people?”

“Do you know how much I really don't care right now?” Diane replied, voicing my own sentiment pretty well.

Rudle ignored her. “The good news is that all the terrorist cells look to have been stopped. We located the headquarters of the cell that attacked the school and found an unfinished dirty bomb. It looks like they somehow knew we were moving in on them and launched their attack before they were ready.”

“Am I still suspended?” Diane asked.

Rudle frowned. “No, I have a job for you. Senator Gredler wants to use this victory against the terrorists as an example of planets working together. You two get to meet the senator and be there for his big speech during the conference.”