Chapter Seventeen
Roger Smith's career as a Military Police Officer had often been dangerous. Frankly, that had been one of the job's original attractions for him, before the frustrating reality of it had set in.
Now that he and Ro were living together, he had been surprised to discover that Rowan shared his taste for risk and then some. It hadn't been enough for her to merely thumb her nose at Paradigm with her school and her books.
Instead she would tempt fate by going on "quests" (her phrase) for days at a time. Her choice of hunting ground depended on her quarry.
As a medical botanist, she was always searching for plants to supply original research material. They often provided the only counteragents to the tainted synthetics being used by Paradigm. Ro would frequently vanish into the wilderness without any prior warning, leaving long before Roger would wake. She would reappear days later, scratched, dusty, and too tired to talk. Her knapsack would overflow with carefully prepared specimens.
This drove Roger crazy with both worry and curiousity. He finally persuaded her to let him come along with increasing frequency. Smith soon learned that the mean streets of Paradigm were well matched by the hazards of the not-so-natural world. The use of biological and nuclear weapons had created all kinds of unexpected mutations over the last four decades. A rabbit could be as venomous as a rattlesnake. Poison ivy sap could cure some kinds of cancer. Nothing could be taken for granted. It was quite an education for Roger.
Rowan had other hunting grounds far worse than this though, and they had troubled Smith greatly even before the incident with Seebach.
She would regularly descend into the subways tunneling beneath the city. For some reason she had never developed the mind-numbing terror that thwarted so many other would-be explorers. Daestar had drawn extensive maps of much of the buried network, marking where she'd found treasures of old technology, or books, or...sadly...remains of the dead.
Roger begged her to stop her underground wandering to no avail. Even Seebach had not fazed her. Smith worried that if she got into trouble she would never get help. "There is nothing down there worth risking your life for," he insisted.
Rowan, on the other hand, told him he was being close-minded, and that it was his phobia talking, not him. She saw no reason to give up something she had been doing safely for years. It was a frequent source of argument.
Finally they negotiated a deal. Smith agreed to accompany her on one of her journeys so that he could see for himself that the danger was minimal. Rowan, for her part, reluctantly promised to cease her explorations if anything happened to cause him concern. She knew she would have to work hard to convince Roger she was right, but she was as stubborn as he was.
She decided to check out an area near the building they had newly bought. The tunnels there had been blocked off until recently, when excavations for new water pipes cleared away debris.
They drove to a quiet side street, parking near a manhole cover. This would be their entrance to the lost world below. Rowan pulled a couple of knapsacks out of the backseat, along with a pair of flashlights. She handed one of each to Smith, who was getting paler by the minute.
Roger slipped on the knapsack and checked the flashlight. He felt slightly nauseous, but he steeled himself. His ego wouldn't allow him to back out. Roger kept repeating to himself that his fears were irrational, that if Daestar could do this, he certainly could. After all, he was bigger and stronger than she was. Besides, if he was going to keep his private vow to protect her, he would have to go along. He could be stubborn too.
Using a crowbar, Rowan removed the manhole cover. She went down first, shining her flashlight up so Smith could follow her visually. Halfway down, she called to him, reminding him not to look down as he descended.
Roger had to admit to himself that keeping his eyes on the patch of grey sky above did help. Rowan talked to him throughout the downward climb, her sweetly soothing voice feeding him tidbits of information to keep his thoughts occupied. His Military Police training proved useful too, helping his rational mind subdue the underlying panic.
Once down onto the old tracks, Daestar's expertise made her an excellent companion. She was determined to make this interesting for Roger, rather than the ordeal she knew he expected. Ro distracted Smith so thoroughly that he began to forget he was afraid. She started to hope that she had won this argument once and for all. Maybe he would join her down here as well. It would be nice to have his company.
As they wandered down the rails, Roger noticed where a bricked-up secton of wall had collapsed, revealing a previously sealed room. A double set of tracks led into it. He shone his flashlight into the darkness, where it reflected off a large metal structure seated on both sets of tracks. It almost looked like a rounded building on top of twin locomotives.
"Let's get a closer look," said Rowan, grabbing Roger's hand. Reluctantly he followed her. Something about it gave him a terrible sense of foreboding, but he decided not to say anything. He did not want to sound like a fool.
The contraption they had found was unbelievably massive. Daestar stepped back to broaden the area her flashlight lit up. They were finally able to get a vague idea of the real shape of the thing.
"My god, Roger, what have we found?" murmured Rowan. In the darkness, she couldn't see the look of sudden recognition on his face, followed by a dream-like calm. "It's a prairie dog," he said flatly.
"What?" Startled, Rowan swung towards his voice. "You know what this thing is?" There was no reply. She could barely make him out in the distance, running towards a ladder on the side of one of the engines.
"Roger! Roger what are you doing?!" She started running after him, terrified. His actions made no sense.
The moment Roger had gotten a decent look at the prairie dog, something went "bingo" deep inside him. He felt compelled to get into it and climb to the top. He dropped his knapsack and flashlight on the ground when he reached the ladder. They were no longer needed. Even in the darkness he knew the path.
Frantically the young woman ran towards the spot she'd last seen Smith. She tripped over his knapsack in the dark, and retraced her steps, finally locating the ladder. She found his broken flashlight at its foot. Rowan could hear Roger moving high above her, and called his name again. There was no answer.
She began climbing up after him. Just as Ro reached the top, a grating metallic noise filled the tunnel. She nearly fell off the ladder in surprise. Then silence. Rowan screamed his name.
As Roger climbed far above the ground, he felt split in two, trapped within himself. A small part of his conscious mind heard Rowan's frantic voice and wanted desperately to respond. The greater part of him seemed to be controlled by an outside force. It was like being caught in a nightmare, unable to wake up.
Bizarre images flashed inside his mind, too quick for anything to be consciously retained. At the same time he was blindly climbing into a dead cockpit of some sort that opened noisily before him. Feeling around, he pulled himself into the pilot's seat. It felt oddly comforting.
He then located a sealed compartment on its side, with buttons inset on the door. He punched them rapidly, unlocking it, and removed a watch-like device. He put it on his left wrist. Roger then touched a control on the device. A soft electric hum filled the stale air. He held the watch face close to his mouth and in a monotone said, "It's showtime."
A round screen blazed into crimsom life before him. Cryptic words marched across it: "Cast in the name of God...Ye not guilty." At that point, he felt a stabbing pain in his wrist under the watch dial.
For a moment, Roger regained control of his body. He tried unsuccessfully to remove the device. It was attached to him. He could feel the fine needles piercing to the bone, feel the coldness of something being injected.
He could sense his other self trying to regain control. NO, Roger growled inside his mind, this can't be happening - I WON'T LET IT!
He tried to push himself out of the pilot's seat, then fell back. Without warning, the round screen before him lit up like a sun gone nova. The small spce was briefly filled with red light. It was so brilliant he could see the bones in his hands as he covered his closed eyes. It felt like the light had seared into his brain. Roger passed out.
(At that moment, a secretary delivered a message to Alex Rosewater. He smiled slightly upon reading it, then turned towards his father. "It's finally begun," he said.)
Meanwhile Rowan forced open a door at the top of the ladder. It opened onto a flight of stairs going up still higher. She dashed up, choking in the thick air, her only thought to find her Roger. She cursed herself for being so stubborn. As she reached the top and stepped out onto the rough metal surface, a brilliant glow of bloody light illuminated the scene.
She was standing atop an ancient Megadeus lying on its back in the prairie dog. Shocked, Rowan forced herself to quickly scan its vast surface in the fading light, trying to locate Roger.
Ro thought she saw movement near what looked like the neck section of the Big. Shining her flashlight on the spot, she was horrified to see her beloved Roger slumped in the cockpit.
He was semi-conscious when she got to his side. Thin trails of blood trickled from his eyes like tears. Trying not to panic, she put her ear against his broad chest. His heartbbeat was fast but strong.
Thank heaven for small favors, Ro thought. She opened his eyes gently, looking at his pupils. Both had shrunk to the size of pinpoints. He must have directly exposed to the full strength of the beam, she realized...what if it had been a laser? Oh god, she cried silently, please don't let him be blinded! She had to get hm out of here fast.
Rowan ripped fabric from her shirt, using it to blindfold him to prevent further injury. Then she checked his limbs for breaks...fortunately the bones were whole.
Somehow the young woman mustered the strength to drag him down to the tracks. She grabbed Roger's discarded knapsack and used it to pillow his bandaged head.
Rowan pulled a canteen out of the other bag. Carefully she poured a tiny amount of liquid into Roger's mouth, massaging his throat so he'd swallow. Then she splashed some on his face.
He groaned, muttering somethng unintelligable, then sat up. A small portion of Rowan's mind arced back to the cave and hoped this wasn't going to become a pattern. She put the canteen to his lips again. Roger drank some more, quickly. He reached up, gingerly feeling his head and the blindfold. Ro took his hand before he could remove the cloth.
"Roger," she kissed his dusty forehead, lightly brushing his hair off his face, "Roger, can you hear me, do you understand me?" Her voice was shaky despite her best efforts to sound calm.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered. "I feel so - awful - like all my nerves are on fire..." His voice faded off, then started to rise with his growing panic: "Why am I blindfolded? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?" He tried to get up. Rowan held him down, half-sitting on him for leverage.
"Roger, listen to me," she said as soothingly as possible, trying to soak up his fright. "There was some sort of accident. We have to go home. Do you think you can walk?"
"But I can't see."
"I can lead you. It's not far. I saw a service elevator near here, I'm sure I can make it work."
Smith sat motionless. The sensation of being divided within himself strengthened, as if there were two versions of Roger Smith battling for control of his body. Am I going mad? he wondered, trying not to get overwhelmed. He knew he had to get back up into the light, or he'd be lost in the darkness growing within him.
"Help me stand," he directed Rowan. As tall and strong as she was, the young woman still staggered pulling Roger up. He had some trouble getting his balance, and almost toppled them both over. Leaning on her, he pressed his hand against the bandages. "I feel like my head is going to explode," he moaned painfully.
Rowan shone the flashlight on his face and neck, carefully avoiding his eyes. All the exposed skin was slightly flushed, and he did feel feverish. The possibility that he was suffering from some sort of radiation poisoning crossed her mind. She felt sick at the thought.
Rowan stuffed one knapsack inside the other, and slung that one on her back, in case they needed the supplies to get them through.
"Come, love," Daestar said to Roger. She placed his arm around her shoulder, and wrapped her arm firmly aroound his waist. "Let's go home," she continued. "We'll walk slowly. It's not far."
They made their way down the shadowy tunnel. Rowan continued to silently curse herself. If he was permanently injured, if his beautiful dark eyes never saw again, she would never forgive herself. She fought an impulse to scream in anguish, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Ro could feel the surrounding darkness pressing down around them, threatening to swallow them both into its black silence.
The elevator door, catching her flashlight beam, loomed before them. Daestar got Roger to lean against the wall while she opened the service panel and fiddled with the wires. There was a shower of sparks and the diodes glowed back to life. The door opened majestically.
Daestar hustled the injured Roger into it and punched in the lobby number. She held her breath as the elevator creaked and groaned its way up. As they ascended, Rowan found Roger's sunglasses in the knapsack and put them on him, partially covering the blindfold. They would have to walk to the car and they didn't need to attract attention. To Rowan's surprise, the elevator opened onto the ground floor of the building Roger had bought. It had been hidden behind a wall panel. There was no time for Rowan to wonder about the coincidence; she had to get him back to the apartment.
The streets were deserted and they made it back to her car without further trouble. She rushed to her place, parking next to the service elevator going to her lab. She managed to get Roger out of the car when he collapsed in her arms.
Miraculously, Norman Berg had just entered the garage on some errand of his own. He saw Ro struggling to hold up Roger's dead weight. Berg ran over and helped her half drag/half carry the unconscious young man into the elevator. Reaching her lab, they lugged him into the bedroom and got him onto the mattress.
Daestar asked Berg to close all the blinds and darken the room while she removed Roger's shoes and shirt. She noticed some dried blood on his left shirt cuff and sleeve. At first she thought it was from the blood on his face. Then she removed his watch (how odd, she thought, that I never noticed it...I've never seen one like that before) and spotted four bloody punctures on his wrist under the watch face.
The young woman turned the watch over. The underside was bloody but smooth. Another puzzle. She wiped it off and put it on the nightstand by the bed.
"Norman, please keep an eye on Roger. I have to get some things." She hurried to her lab.
As Norman stood by the silent young man, he noticed the watch on the small table. He felt a compelling need to touch it. Berg picked it up, examining the odd dial and its side controls closely. He pressed two of the buttons, then deliberately placed it on his wrist.
There was a low hum. Suddenly he jerked his arm and paled, gasping. The moment passed, and he removed the watch. There were four small red dots on his wrist. He wiped the back of the dial clean and replaced it on the nightstand.
Norman felt strangely different, more alive than he had in years...he couldn't put his finger on it. He also felt a new sense of purpose. Somehow it tied him to the young man lying helpless before him.
Mysteriously, Berg now knew he had to remove the blindfold and give Smith the rest of his instructions. The older man reached towards him, but stopped when he heard Daestar approach. It would have to wait.
Rowan returned with a large case full of equipment. She removed the blindfold gently. In the dim light of the bedroom, she could see that his pupils had dilated somewhat. Using a penlight, she checked the reflex. To her relief it was normal for both eyes.
Daestar then drew some of Roger's blood. She put a few drops in each of three vials, each half-full with a colorless liquid. She shook each one sharply, then shined the penlight on them.
Two remained colorless. The third turned a brilliant purple. She whistled tonelessly in surprise. No wonder he felt on fire...his neurotransmitter levels were tremendously elevated. His central nervous system was burning itself out. She didn't want to think about the consequences if she couldn't stop it.
She went to her linen closet and grabbed a small towel. Rowan made a soft gag of it, forced open Roger's mouth and slipped it between his teeth and over his tongue. She tied it firmly. She then placed a pillow beneath his head.
Daestar sped back to the lab. She removed a vial of golden plant extract from a fridge and filled a hypodermic with the liquid, squeezing out a couple of drops to be sure there was no air in it. She quickly returned to the bedroom.
"Can I do anything, Miss Rown?" asked Norman. (Although her presence delayed completion of his mission, he felt no urgency to get her out of the way. He knew her loyalties were completely with Roger. They were all on the same side. They were all good soldiers.)
"Yes," Rowan said. "Stand on the other side of the bed to make sure he doesn't fall off." Ro leaned over Roger and kissed his forehead. "I love you," she whispered. She then rolled Smith's limp body over a bit. She wiped the skin generously with antiseptic. Carefully, Ro plunged the thin needle into his spinal cord, just below the base of his skull. Swiftly she rolled him back flat. Rowan waited, praying silently, offering herself to whatever forces there were in the universe in exchange for Roger's recovery.
There was a moment of perfect stillness.
Then all hell broke loose. Roger arched violently, then went ino a full seizure. It lasted for under thirty seconds, then abruptly stopped.
He was drenched in sweat. Rowan checked his vital signs...all was normal. She removed the gag - he had bitten halfway through the cloth. He no longer felt feverish to the touch, his skin was no longer flushed. Ro listened to his heart with her stethoscope. The beat was strong, regular, no longer racing.
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she lightly brushed his lips with hers. She knew her battle had just begun.
Norman came over to her side, putting his hand on her shoulder and patting her. The initial reaction of his exposure to the device had settled down, and there was a kind of blending of his old and new selves. He no longer thought of Rowan as merely another good soldier. He now remembered who she was, the long friendship he shared with her, the relationship she shared with Roger. He would fulfill his mission when he could...taking care of these two young people came first. Norman squeezed Ro's shoulder in genuine sympathy. "Is he going to be alright, Miss Rowan?" There was a slight catch to his voice.
"I don't know. It's too soon to tell." Rowan shakily smoothed her love's matted hair with her fingers. He'd be so upset if he knew what a mess it was, she thought sadly. She turned to face the older man, and thanked him for his help. She then kissed him on his cheek.
Berg blushed. "Now, Miss Rowan, I'm glad I could be of some service. I do have some errands I must attend to, but I'll come back later if you'd like." He bowed slightly, back to his old-world self. She thanked him again, and he let himself out.
Rowan kept vigil at Roger's side. She decided to open the glass panels to the greenhouse, flooding the room with oxygen-rich air. She kept close tabs on his vital signs, sponging him down when the fever returned, and taking small blood samples to keep track of what was happening inside him. (Rowan didn't dare hospitalize Roger. She couldn't risk exposing him to anyone with connections to Paradigm. At the very least that would bring Seebach back into their lives. At worst, Roger would be seen as an experiment in progress and be taken away.) He was injected twice more with the golden extract, but there were no more seizures. Roger Smith finally drifted into a deep restful sleep.
Rowan spent much of the remaining night pacing quietly in the bedroom. Although caring for her fallen companion was paramount, other thoughts were swirling through her.
She had absolutely no doubt that Roger had indeed been a lab rat. He might have been one of the other kids at the orphanage. He must have been carefully prepared for something, but what? What did the Megadeus have to do with it? Was he supposed to pilot it? Daestar recalled the destruction of the ruined Big so many months ago. Was that to be Roger's fate as well?
She shoved the thoughts aside. Now was not the time. She had to concentrate on getting her lover well.
Berg returned before dawn, giving Rowan a chance to shower and eat. He insisted that she try to nap a bit on the couch, telling her, "You're no good to him if you wear yourself out," and shooed her out of the bedroom.
As soon as the older man was certain she was asleep, he picked up the device on the nightstand. He pushed a button on its side, activating a series of concentric circles. Each circle was actually made up of highly compressed data, flashing at lightning speed.
Berg stared at it intently, nodding to himself, then clicked it to re-set. He went over to Roger, gently opened one of his eyes, and placed the watch dial directly before it. Norman clicked the button, restarting the flow of information. This was repeated twice more, each time providing a totally different data stream.
Mission comnplete, Berg returned the watch to the table. He kept careful watch over his sleeping charge, alert to any movement. Any outside observer would have compared Norman to a faithful dog by his master's side.
A few hours later, Daestar awoke from her troubled sleep with a terrible gasp. She had dreamt that Roger had been replaced with a duplicate.
The young woman rushed into the bedroom, startling Norman who put a finger to his lips. In hushed tones, he assured her that there had been no problems while she slept.
Rowan went over to the bed to get a closer look. Roger was still deeply asleep. He had an expression of utter peace on his smooth face...no one would ever guess his earlier suffering to see him now. Rowan lightly put her hand on his cheek and neck. He was cool to the touch. The fever had broken.
She realized that, at the very best, it would probably be months before she knew if he had made a full recovery. Despite her quick work, there was still the possibility of subtle damage. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Smith stirred when her lips touched him. He opened his black eyes and turned to face her. He smiled.
Daestar, startled, smiled back. "Hi," she said softly. She could feel tears of relief beginning; she blinked them back unsuccessfully.
Roger stretched and rolled over on his side to face her. "I had the strangest dream...," he began, when he noticed Norman Berg sitting by the bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise. Then he noticed the tears running down Rowan's face. He reached over and wiped her cheek. "Why are you crying? What happened?"
Norman answered, cutting off Rowan's reply. "You had a small accident, Master Roger, but everything will be alright now. You're in good hands."
Daestar looked at Berg in surprise. He had never addressed Roger that way before. She turned back to Roger. He didn't seem puzzled at all about being called "Master Roger." Alex Rosewater's words about being led by forces 'greater than we can imagine' echoed in her mind. Who are you really, Roger Smith? she wondered. Who have I fallen in love with?
"An accident?" asked Roger. "You mean in the tunnels?"
"Yes," said Rowan. She told him what had happened.
The young man's dark eyes widened in surprise. "So that wasn't a dream...it really happened.Hmmm." He stretched his arms and smoothly flexed his hands. "I feel fine...I don't think I've ever felt better, in fact." He started to get out of the bed.
"Hey,' said Daestar, pushing him back down, "not so fast. You are NOT going anywhere, sweetheart, til I check you over. I don't understand what happened to you. There may be residual effects. Please, for my sake if not for yours."
Roger looked at her, then noticed Berg (who was behind her) nodding his head "yes." Smith shrugged. "Fine, Ro. Whatever you want, if it makes you feel better. I know I'm okay."
Norman excused himself, saying he needed to prepare for the school day. He knew his real work had barely begun.
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Rowan spent the next week running every conceivable test possible in her lab. She could find absolutely no trace of damage. If anything, the incident had left Roger in even better shape than before. His reflexes were now unbelievably fast. He was stronger. He had greater stamina. His mind was sharper. It was as if he had been fine-tuned to his most efficient levels.
Roger was different on a more subtle level too. He seemed to be more self-contained, as if he was having some sort of inner dialogue. Ro would catch him sometimes staring absently, as if his mind was far away. Yet, beyond that there was nothing Rowan could put her finger on. He still treated her the same as he had before all this. He even teased her about losing the subway argument, though that was as far as he would go in discussing it. Other than that, he refused to talk in any depth about what had happened. He would brush it off, saying he couldn't remember it, and change the subject.
Rowan would have to wait and see.
***************************
The next few weeks passed without anything extraordinary happening. No terrorist threats, no mass poisonings, no multiple deaths...no Megadeus flattening the city.
Alex Rosewater was getting annoyed. He had been assured that the activation of the latest pilot was successful. This one had been especially important to him, prepared for elite fighter status. A Megadeus in almost perfect condition had been carefully set aside for him.
This pilot was so important that Paradigm had even arranged for a guide to lead him to the Big.
Alex reread the file on Smith. All the samples taken at the time of capture had been at peak. The matching of Smith's brain waves with the artificial intelligence of the Megadeus had gone smoothly. Each had accepted the pattern of the other without hesitation. The drugs and subliminal protocals needed to release long-buried programming had been administered as well.
There were supposed to be only two possible outcomes for this kind of intensive conditioning: either the pilot became the creature of the Megadeus (ie, Paradigm) abandoning his old life, or the pilot went mad and finally died in the process.
Obviously since all was calm, the first objective was not achieved. To make matters worse, the young pilot not only survived, but was still leading a normal life. This meant he was a free agent, able to do as he wished with the Megadeus when he decided to take command of it. It was inevitable that he would to so - it was a part of him now.
Rosewater wondered how the program could have gone so wrong. Someone interferred, clearly...but who would have the knowledge or motive to do so? He flipped through the file again and his eye fell on the name "Rowan Daestar." At his father's insistance, she had been Smith's northstar.
Alex remembered how angrily he had argued with his father over letting her be used that way. Alex had felt she was too unpredictible, too uncontrollable. Most of her conditioning had never taken. Gordon had argued (correctly, Alex had to admit) that that was why she'd be the only one who could find the Megadeus and the only one Smith would trust enough to follow to it.
Both Alex and Gordon assumed the pilot conditioning would completely take over at that point. Smith's old life would be left behind, forgotten and abandoned. Daestar must have figured a way around it.
Alex put the file down and gazed out the glass walls overlooking the cityscape. The answer was out there somewhere, hidden in Rowan's files or Rowan's mind. He smiled thinly. The girl was as enertaining as ever. No matter, he thought. He would discover wht she did and correct it. It might take a little time, but he was a patient man.
Roger Smith's career as a Military Police Officer had often been dangerous. Frankly, that had been one of the job's original attractions for him, before the frustrating reality of it had set in.
Now that he and Ro were living together, he had been surprised to discover that Rowan shared his taste for risk and then some. It hadn't been enough for her to merely thumb her nose at Paradigm with her school and her books.
Instead she would tempt fate by going on "quests" (her phrase) for days at a time. Her choice of hunting ground depended on her quarry.
As a medical botanist, she was always searching for plants to supply original research material. They often provided the only counteragents to the tainted synthetics being used by Paradigm. Ro would frequently vanish into the wilderness without any prior warning, leaving long before Roger would wake. She would reappear days later, scratched, dusty, and too tired to talk. Her knapsack would overflow with carefully prepared specimens.
This drove Roger crazy with both worry and curiousity. He finally persuaded her to let him come along with increasing frequency. Smith soon learned that the mean streets of Paradigm were well matched by the hazards of the not-so-natural world. The use of biological and nuclear weapons had created all kinds of unexpected mutations over the last four decades. A rabbit could be as venomous as a rattlesnake. Poison ivy sap could cure some kinds of cancer. Nothing could be taken for granted. It was quite an education for Roger.
Rowan had other hunting grounds far worse than this though, and they had troubled Smith greatly even before the incident with Seebach.
She would regularly descend into the subways tunneling beneath the city. For some reason she had never developed the mind-numbing terror that thwarted so many other would-be explorers. Daestar had drawn extensive maps of much of the buried network, marking where she'd found treasures of old technology, or books, or...sadly...remains of the dead.
Roger begged her to stop her underground wandering to no avail. Even Seebach had not fazed her. Smith worried that if she got into trouble she would never get help. "There is nothing down there worth risking your life for," he insisted.
Rowan, on the other hand, told him he was being close-minded, and that it was his phobia talking, not him. She saw no reason to give up something she had been doing safely for years. It was a frequent source of argument.
Finally they negotiated a deal. Smith agreed to accompany her on one of her journeys so that he could see for himself that the danger was minimal. Rowan, for her part, reluctantly promised to cease her explorations if anything happened to cause him concern. She knew she would have to work hard to convince Roger she was right, but she was as stubborn as he was.
She decided to check out an area near the building they had newly bought. The tunnels there had been blocked off until recently, when excavations for new water pipes cleared away debris.
They drove to a quiet side street, parking near a manhole cover. This would be their entrance to the lost world below. Rowan pulled a couple of knapsacks out of the backseat, along with a pair of flashlights. She handed one of each to Smith, who was getting paler by the minute.
Roger slipped on the knapsack and checked the flashlight. He felt slightly nauseous, but he steeled himself. His ego wouldn't allow him to back out. Roger kept repeating to himself that his fears were irrational, that if Daestar could do this, he certainly could. After all, he was bigger and stronger than she was. Besides, if he was going to keep his private vow to protect her, he would have to go along. He could be stubborn too.
Using a crowbar, Rowan removed the manhole cover. She went down first, shining her flashlight up so Smith could follow her visually. Halfway down, she called to him, reminding him not to look down as he descended.
Roger had to admit to himself that keeping his eyes on the patch of grey sky above did help. Rowan talked to him throughout the downward climb, her sweetly soothing voice feeding him tidbits of information to keep his thoughts occupied. His Military Police training proved useful too, helping his rational mind subdue the underlying panic.
Once down onto the old tracks, Daestar's expertise made her an excellent companion. She was determined to make this interesting for Roger, rather than the ordeal she knew he expected. Ro distracted Smith so thoroughly that he began to forget he was afraid. She started to hope that she had won this argument once and for all. Maybe he would join her down here as well. It would be nice to have his company.
As they wandered down the rails, Roger noticed where a bricked-up secton of wall had collapsed, revealing a previously sealed room. A double set of tracks led into it. He shone his flashlight into the darkness, where it reflected off a large metal structure seated on both sets of tracks. It almost looked like a rounded building on top of twin locomotives.
"Let's get a closer look," said Rowan, grabbing Roger's hand. Reluctantly he followed her. Something about it gave him a terrible sense of foreboding, but he decided not to say anything. He did not want to sound like a fool.
The contraption they had found was unbelievably massive. Daestar stepped back to broaden the area her flashlight lit up. They were finally able to get a vague idea of the real shape of the thing.
"My god, Roger, what have we found?" murmured Rowan. In the darkness, she couldn't see the look of sudden recognition on his face, followed by a dream-like calm. "It's a prairie dog," he said flatly.
"What?" Startled, Rowan swung towards his voice. "You know what this thing is?" There was no reply. She could barely make him out in the distance, running towards a ladder on the side of one of the engines.
"Roger! Roger what are you doing?!" She started running after him, terrified. His actions made no sense.
The moment Roger had gotten a decent look at the prairie dog, something went "bingo" deep inside him. He felt compelled to get into it and climb to the top. He dropped his knapsack and flashlight on the ground when he reached the ladder. They were no longer needed. Even in the darkness he knew the path.
Frantically the young woman ran towards the spot she'd last seen Smith. She tripped over his knapsack in the dark, and retraced her steps, finally locating the ladder. She found his broken flashlight at its foot. Rowan could hear Roger moving high above her, and called his name again. There was no answer.
She began climbing up after him. Just as Ro reached the top, a grating metallic noise filled the tunnel. She nearly fell off the ladder in surprise. Then silence. Rowan screamed his name.
As Roger climbed far above the ground, he felt split in two, trapped within himself. A small part of his conscious mind heard Rowan's frantic voice and wanted desperately to respond. The greater part of him seemed to be controlled by an outside force. It was like being caught in a nightmare, unable to wake up.
Bizarre images flashed inside his mind, too quick for anything to be consciously retained. At the same time he was blindly climbing into a dead cockpit of some sort that opened noisily before him. Feeling around, he pulled himself into the pilot's seat. It felt oddly comforting.
He then located a sealed compartment on its side, with buttons inset on the door. He punched them rapidly, unlocking it, and removed a watch-like device. He put it on his left wrist. Roger then touched a control on the device. A soft electric hum filled the stale air. He held the watch face close to his mouth and in a monotone said, "It's showtime."
A round screen blazed into crimsom life before him. Cryptic words marched across it: "Cast in the name of God...Ye not guilty." At that point, he felt a stabbing pain in his wrist under the watch dial.
For a moment, Roger regained control of his body. He tried unsuccessfully to remove the device. It was attached to him. He could feel the fine needles piercing to the bone, feel the coldness of something being injected.
He could sense his other self trying to regain control. NO, Roger growled inside his mind, this can't be happening - I WON'T LET IT!
He tried to push himself out of the pilot's seat, then fell back. Without warning, the round screen before him lit up like a sun gone nova. The small spce was briefly filled with red light. It was so brilliant he could see the bones in his hands as he covered his closed eyes. It felt like the light had seared into his brain. Roger passed out.
(At that moment, a secretary delivered a message to Alex Rosewater. He smiled slightly upon reading it, then turned towards his father. "It's finally begun," he said.)
Meanwhile Rowan forced open a door at the top of the ladder. It opened onto a flight of stairs going up still higher. She dashed up, choking in the thick air, her only thought to find her Roger. She cursed herself for being so stubborn. As she reached the top and stepped out onto the rough metal surface, a brilliant glow of bloody light illuminated the scene.
She was standing atop an ancient Megadeus lying on its back in the prairie dog. Shocked, Rowan forced herself to quickly scan its vast surface in the fading light, trying to locate Roger.
Ro thought she saw movement near what looked like the neck section of the Big. Shining her flashlight on the spot, she was horrified to see her beloved Roger slumped in the cockpit.
He was semi-conscious when she got to his side. Thin trails of blood trickled from his eyes like tears. Trying not to panic, she put her ear against his broad chest. His heartbbeat was fast but strong.
Thank heaven for small favors, Ro thought. She opened his eyes gently, looking at his pupils. Both had shrunk to the size of pinpoints. He must have directly exposed to the full strength of the beam, she realized...what if it had been a laser? Oh god, she cried silently, please don't let him be blinded! She had to get hm out of here fast.
Rowan ripped fabric from her shirt, using it to blindfold him to prevent further injury. Then she checked his limbs for breaks...fortunately the bones were whole.
Somehow the young woman mustered the strength to drag him down to the tracks. She grabbed Roger's discarded knapsack and used it to pillow his bandaged head.
Rowan pulled a canteen out of the other bag. Carefully she poured a tiny amount of liquid into Roger's mouth, massaging his throat so he'd swallow. Then she splashed some on his face.
He groaned, muttering somethng unintelligable, then sat up. A small portion of Rowan's mind arced back to the cave and hoped this wasn't going to become a pattern. She put the canteen to his lips again. Roger drank some more, quickly. He reached up, gingerly feeling his head and the blindfold. Ro took his hand before he could remove the cloth.
"Roger," she kissed his dusty forehead, lightly brushing his hair off his face, "Roger, can you hear me, do you understand me?" Her voice was shaky despite her best efforts to sound calm.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered. "I feel so - awful - like all my nerves are on fire..." His voice faded off, then started to rise with his growing panic: "Why am I blindfolded? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?" He tried to get up. Rowan held him down, half-sitting on him for leverage.
"Roger, listen to me," she said as soothingly as possible, trying to soak up his fright. "There was some sort of accident. We have to go home. Do you think you can walk?"
"But I can't see."
"I can lead you. It's not far. I saw a service elevator near here, I'm sure I can make it work."
Smith sat motionless. The sensation of being divided within himself strengthened, as if there were two versions of Roger Smith battling for control of his body. Am I going mad? he wondered, trying not to get overwhelmed. He knew he had to get back up into the light, or he'd be lost in the darkness growing within him.
"Help me stand," he directed Rowan. As tall and strong as she was, the young woman still staggered pulling Roger up. He had some trouble getting his balance, and almost toppled them both over. Leaning on her, he pressed his hand against the bandages. "I feel like my head is going to explode," he moaned painfully.
Rowan shone the flashlight on his face and neck, carefully avoiding his eyes. All the exposed skin was slightly flushed, and he did feel feverish. The possibility that he was suffering from some sort of radiation poisoning crossed her mind. She felt sick at the thought.
Rowan stuffed one knapsack inside the other, and slung that one on her back, in case they needed the supplies to get them through.
"Come, love," Daestar said to Roger. She placed his arm around her shoulder, and wrapped her arm firmly aroound his waist. "Let's go home," she continued. "We'll walk slowly. It's not far."
They made their way down the shadowy tunnel. Rowan continued to silently curse herself. If he was permanently injured, if his beautiful dark eyes never saw again, she would never forgive herself. She fought an impulse to scream in anguish, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Ro could feel the surrounding darkness pressing down around them, threatening to swallow them both into its black silence.
The elevator door, catching her flashlight beam, loomed before them. Daestar got Roger to lean against the wall while she opened the service panel and fiddled with the wires. There was a shower of sparks and the diodes glowed back to life. The door opened majestically.
Daestar hustled the injured Roger into it and punched in the lobby number. She held her breath as the elevator creaked and groaned its way up. As they ascended, Rowan found Roger's sunglasses in the knapsack and put them on him, partially covering the blindfold. They would have to walk to the car and they didn't need to attract attention. To Rowan's surprise, the elevator opened onto the ground floor of the building Roger had bought. It had been hidden behind a wall panel. There was no time for Rowan to wonder about the coincidence; she had to get him back to the apartment.
The streets were deserted and they made it back to her car without further trouble. She rushed to her place, parking next to the service elevator going to her lab. She managed to get Roger out of the car when he collapsed in her arms.
Miraculously, Norman Berg had just entered the garage on some errand of his own. He saw Ro struggling to hold up Roger's dead weight. Berg ran over and helped her half drag/half carry the unconscious young man into the elevator. Reaching her lab, they lugged him into the bedroom and got him onto the mattress.
Daestar asked Berg to close all the blinds and darken the room while she removed Roger's shoes and shirt. She noticed some dried blood on his left shirt cuff and sleeve. At first she thought it was from the blood on his face. Then she removed his watch (how odd, she thought, that I never noticed it...I've never seen one like that before) and spotted four bloody punctures on his wrist under the watch face.
The young woman turned the watch over. The underside was bloody but smooth. Another puzzle. She wiped it off and put it on the nightstand by the bed.
"Norman, please keep an eye on Roger. I have to get some things." She hurried to her lab.
As Norman stood by the silent young man, he noticed the watch on the small table. He felt a compelling need to touch it. Berg picked it up, examining the odd dial and its side controls closely. He pressed two of the buttons, then deliberately placed it on his wrist.
There was a low hum. Suddenly he jerked his arm and paled, gasping. The moment passed, and he removed the watch. There were four small red dots on his wrist. He wiped the back of the dial clean and replaced it on the nightstand.
Norman felt strangely different, more alive than he had in years...he couldn't put his finger on it. He also felt a new sense of purpose. Somehow it tied him to the young man lying helpless before him.
Mysteriously, Berg now knew he had to remove the blindfold and give Smith the rest of his instructions. The older man reached towards him, but stopped when he heard Daestar approach. It would have to wait.
Rowan returned with a large case full of equipment. She removed the blindfold gently. In the dim light of the bedroom, she could see that his pupils had dilated somewhat. Using a penlight, she checked the reflex. To her relief it was normal for both eyes.
Daestar then drew some of Roger's blood. She put a few drops in each of three vials, each half-full with a colorless liquid. She shook each one sharply, then shined the penlight on them.
Two remained colorless. The third turned a brilliant purple. She whistled tonelessly in surprise. No wonder he felt on fire...his neurotransmitter levels were tremendously elevated. His central nervous system was burning itself out. She didn't want to think about the consequences if she couldn't stop it.
She went to her linen closet and grabbed a small towel. Rowan made a soft gag of it, forced open Roger's mouth and slipped it between his teeth and over his tongue. She tied it firmly. She then placed a pillow beneath his head.
Daestar sped back to the lab. She removed a vial of golden plant extract from a fridge and filled a hypodermic with the liquid, squeezing out a couple of drops to be sure there was no air in it. She quickly returned to the bedroom.
"Can I do anything, Miss Rown?" asked Norman. (Although her presence delayed completion of his mission, he felt no urgency to get her out of the way. He knew her loyalties were completely with Roger. They were all on the same side. They were all good soldiers.)
"Yes," Rowan said. "Stand on the other side of the bed to make sure he doesn't fall off." Ro leaned over Roger and kissed his forehead. "I love you," she whispered. She then rolled Smith's limp body over a bit. She wiped the skin generously with antiseptic. Carefully, Ro plunged the thin needle into his spinal cord, just below the base of his skull. Swiftly she rolled him back flat. Rowan waited, praying silently, offering herself to whatever forces there were in the universe in exchange for Roger's recovery.
There was a moment of perfect stillness.
Then all hell broke loose. Roger arched violently, then went ino a full seizure. It lasted for under thirty seconds, then abruptly stopped.
He was drenched in sweat. Rowan checked his vital signs...all was normal. She removed the gag - he had bitten halfway through the cloth. He no longer felt feverish to the touch, his skin was no longer flushed. Ro listened to his heart with her stethoscope. The beat was strong, regular, no longer racing.
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she lightly brushed his lips with hers. She knew her battle had just begun.
Norman came over to her side, putting his hand on her shoulder and patting her. The initial reaction of his exposure to the device had settled down, and there was a kind of blending of his old and new selves. He no longer thought of Rowan as merely another good soldier. He now remembered who she was, the long friendship he shared with her, the relationship she shared with Roger. He would fulfill his mission when he could...taking care of these two young people came first. Norman squeezed Ro's shoulder in genuine sympathy. "Is he going to be alright, Miss Rowan?" There was a slight catch to his voice.
"I don't know. It's too soon to tell." Rowan shakily smoothed her love's matted hair with her fingers. He'd be so upset if he knew what a mess it was, she thought sadly. She turned to face the older man, and thanked him for his help. She then kissed him on his cheek.
Berg blushed. "Now, Miss Rowan, I'm glad I could be of some service. I do have some errands I must attend to, but I'll come back later if you'd like." He bowed slightly, back to his old-world self. She thanked him again, and he let himself out.
Rowan kept vigil at Roger's side. She decided to open the glass panels to the greenhouse, flooding the room with oxygen-rich air. She kept close tabs on his vital signs, sponging him down when the fever returned, and taking small blood samples to keep track of what was happening inside him. (Rowan didn't dare hospitalize Roger. She couldn't risk exposing him to anyone with connections to Paradigm. At the very least that would bring Seebach back into their lives. At worst, Roger would be seen as an experiment in progress and be taken away.) He was injected twice more with the golden extract, but there were no more seizures. Roger Smith finally drifted into a deep restful sleep.
Rowan spent much of the remaining night pacing quietly in the bedroom. Although caring for her fallen companion was paramount, other thoughts were swirling through her.
She had absolutely no doubt that Roger had indeed been a lab rat. He might have been one of the other kids at the orphanage. He must have been carefully prepared for something, but what? What did the Megadeus have to do with it? Was he supposed to pilot it? Daestar recalled the destruction of the ruined Big so many months ago. Was that to be Roger's fate as well?
She shoved the thoughts aside. Now was not the time. She had to concentrate on getting her lover well.
Berg returned before dawn, giving Rowan a chance to shower and eat. He insisted that she try to nap a bit on the couch, telling her, "You're no good to him if you wear yourself out," and shooed her out of the bedroom.
As soon as the older man was certain she was asleep, he picked up the device on the nightstand. He pushed a button on its side, activating a series of concentric circles. Each circle was actually made up of highly compressed data, flashing at lightning speed.
Berg stared at it intently, nodding to himself, then clicked it to re-set. He went over to Roger, gently opened one of his eyes, and placed the watch dial directly before it. Norman clicked the button, restarting the flow of information. This was repeated twice more, each time providing a totally different data stream.
Mission comnplete, Berg returned the watch to the table. He kept careful watch over his sleeping charge, alert to any movement. Any outside observer would have compared Norman to a faithful dog by his master's side.
A few hours later, Daestar awoke from her troubled sleep with a terrible gasp. She had dreamt that Roger had been replaced with a duplicate.
The young woman rushed into the bedroom, startling Norman who put a finger to his lips. In hushed tones, he assured her that there had been no problems while she slept.
Rowan went over to the bed to get a closer look. Roger was still deeply asleep. He had an expression of utter peace on his smooth face...no one would ever guess his earlier suffering to see him now. Rowan lightly put her hand on his cheek and neck. He was cool to the touch. The fever had broken.
She realized that, at the very best, it would probably be months before she knew if he had made a full recovery. Despite her quick work, there was still the possibility of subtle damage. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Smith stirred when her lips touched him. He opened his black eyes and turned to face her. He smiled.
Daestar, startled, smiled back. "Hi," she said softly. She could feel tears of relief beginning; she blinked them back unsuccessfully.
Roger stretched and rolled over on his side to face her. "I had the strangest dream...," he began, when he noticed Norman Berg sitting by the bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise. Then he noticed the tears running down Rowan's face. He reached over and wiped her cheek. "Why are you crying? What happened?"
Norman answered, cutting off Rowan's reply. "You had a small accident, Master Roger, but everything will be alright now. You're in good hands."
Daestar looked at Berg in surprise. He had never addressed Roger that way before. She turned back to Roger. He didn't seem puzzled at all about being called "Master Roger." Alex Rosewater's words about being led by forces 'greater than we can imagine' echoed in her mind. Who are you really, Roger Smith? she wondered. Who have I fallen in love with?
"An accident?" asked Roger. "You mean in the tunnels?"
"Yes," said Rowan. She told him what had happened.
The young man's dark eyes widened in surprise. "So that wasn't a dream...it really happened.Hmmm." He stretched his arms and smoothly flexed his hands. "I feel fine...I don't think I've ever felt better, in fact." He started to get out of the bed.
"Hey,' said Daestar, pushing him back down, "not so fast. You are NOT going anywhere, sweetheart, til I check you over. I don't understand what happened to you. There may be residual effects. Please, for my sake if not for yours."
Roger looked at her, then noticed Berg (who was behind her) nodding his head "yes." Smith shrugged. "Fine, Ro. Whatever you want, if it makes you feel better. I know I'm okay."
Norman excused himself, saying he needed to prepare for the school day. He knew his real work had barely begun.
****************************
Rowan spent the next week running every conceivable test possible in her lab. She could find absolutely no trace of damage. If anything, the incident had left Roger in even better shape than before. His reflexes were now unbelievably fast. He was stronger. He had greater stamina. His mind was sharper. It was as if he had been fine-tuned to his most efficient levels.
Roger was different on a more subtle level too. He seemed to be more self-contained, as if he was having some sort of inner dialogue. Ro would catch him sometimes staring absently, as if his mind was far away. Yet, beyond that there was nothing Rowan could put her finger on. He still treated her the same as he had before all this. He even teased her about losing the subway argument, though that was as far as he would go in discussing it. Other than that, he refused to talk in any depth about what had happened. He would brush it off, saying he couldn't remember it, and change the subject.
Rowan would have to wait and see.
***************************
The next few weeks passed without anything extraordinary happening. No terrorist threats, no mass poisonings, no multiple deaths...no Megadeus flattening the city.
Alex Rosewater was getting annoyed. He had been assured that the activation of the latest pilot was successful. This one had been especially important to him, prepared for elite fighter status. A Megadeus in almost perfect condition had been carefully set aside for him.
This pilot was so important that Paradigm had even arranged for a guide to lead him to the Big.
Alex reread the file on Smith. All the samples taken at the time of capture had been at peak. The matching of Smith's brain waves with the artificial intelligence of the Megadeus had gone smoothly. Each had accepted the pattern of the other without hesitation. The drugs and subliminal protocals needed to release long-buried programming had been administered as well.
There were supposed to be only two possible outcomes for this kind of intensive conditioning: either the pilot became the creature of the Megadeus (ie, Paradigm) abandoning his old life, or the pilot went mad and finally died in the process.
Obviously since all was calm, the first objective was not achieved. To make matters worse, the young pilot not only survived, but was still leading a normal life. This meant he was a free agent, able to do as he wished with the Megadeus when he decided to take command of it. It was inevitable that he would to so - it was a part of him now.
Rosewater wondered how the program could have gone so wrong. Someone interferred, clearly...but who would have the knowledge or motive to do so? He flipped through the file again and his eye fell on the name "Rowan Daestar." At his father's insistance, she had been Smith's northstar.
Alex remembered how angrily he had argued with his father over letting her be used that way. Alex had felt she was too unpredictible, too uncontrollable. Most of her conditioning had never taken. Gordon had argued (correctly, Alex had to admit) that that was why she'd be the only one who could find the Megadeus and the only one Smith would trust enough to follow to it.
Both Alex and Gordon assumed the pilot conditioning would completely take over at that point. Smith's old life would be left behind, forgotten and abandoned. Daestar must have figured a way around it.
Alex put the file down and gazed out the glass walls overlooking the cityscape. The answer was out there somewhere, hidden in Rowan's files or Rowan's mind. He smiled thinly. The girl was as enertaining as ever. No matter, he thought. He would discover wht she did and correct it. It might take a little time, but he was a patient man.