Read Online The Machine's Child by Kage Baker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kage Baker
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go two ways here,” Marco said. “I can put you in restraints, or I can, I can paralyze you temporarily.” He frowned and blinked. “Or I could just hurt you until . . . until I . . . I mean, you . . . Oh, no.”
He let go Edward’s foot and looked at the tiny wound in his palm. He dragged his gaze up from it to stare reproachfully at Edward.
“Deceit,” said Marco. He coughed. “You were from them after all, weren’t you? They found a toxin that works . . . Watch, little brother. They get you, too, always betray their slaves. We foun’ out. You n’ I . . . you and I—”
His eyes became stony, his face like a mask. He sagged heavily forward, dropping Mendoza’s coffin. It fell to the floor with a crash. His breath rattled in his throat. Edward got his other foot up and shoved as hard as he could, and Marco pitched backward like a tower falling. Dust rose from his impact.
Edward hoisted himself up, painfully, awkwardly on his left arm, and rolled off the table. He landed on the little coffin, with Alec and Nicholassprawling beside him. Turning, Edward stretched out and cradled the coffin in his arms. He drew a long harsh breath; choked on a sob and began to weep.
The sound of their grief rose into the dim corners of the warehouse and drowned out the creaking of the treadmill, where all those arms and legs pedaled so frantically toward Judgment Day.
You done it, son. I’m bringing the agboat round to the door for you. All you got to do—
“What’s the point, you idiot machine?” shouted Edward. “What’s left now? We failed her!”
Belay that. She’s still alive, ain’t she? You think she can’t be brought back? Weren’t you listening to the old monster? Damn yer eyes, get up and go to that cabinet yonder! I want what’s in there.
Edward growled but struggled to his knees. With effort he stood, balancing on his unbroken foot, blinking through blood from a scalp wound. Alec and Nicholas rose with him. Together they hobbled across to the file cabinet. A–M, read the label on the upper drawer. Edward pulled it open with his left hand and beheld a row of slim steel cases, each with its neat label. After a groggy perusal he found the one bearing Mendoza’s name. He fumbled it out.
There were three things in the case. One was a slender silver cylinder, strangely cold to the touch. One was a small electronic component of some kind, crusted with something unnervingly like dried blood. The last item was a sheaf of bound parchment. Edward drew it out, and Alec and Nicholas peered over his shoulder at it.
They beheld diagrams, schematics, drawings done in the style of Da Vinci of a naked girl in various stages of disassembly and reassembly, with representations of biomechanical implants and prostheses. Measurements, calculations, formulae. The girl was recognizably Mendoza, though as she might have looked just entering adolescence. Nicholas’s hands were trembling.
“This is hard copy,” said Alec wonderingly, in a little high stoned voice.
Aye. Her file was purged from the system when she was sent here. She ain’t supposed to exist no more. This is the only record left. Takeit, and take that tube. But mind you ditch the component! That’s her datafeed to the Company surveillance banks. They’d be able to trace her anywhere that went.
With an expression of loathing, Edward tossed the component into a corner of the warehouse and stuffed the papers back into the file case with the tube. He tucked it under his arm.
Come on, now, the boat’s at the door. All you got to do is walk across the room, son.
They tottered back toward the table. As they passed Marco his left hand jerked, fingers clawing.
You see? Nothing kills them. Let’s be off, afore he can get the other hand working again.
Clumsily, Edward bent to scoop up the coffin. They got to the boat with it before his legs gave way. He was just able to set the coffin in the back and tumble in over the side before he blacked
He let go Edward’s foot and looked at the tiny wound in his palm. He dragged his gaze up from it to stare reproachfully at Edward.
“Deceit,” said Marco. He coughed. “You were from them after all, weren’t you? They found a toxin that works . . . Watch, little brother. They get you, too, always betray their slaves. We foun’ out. You n’ I . . . you and I—”
His eyes became stony, his face like a mask. He sagged heavily forward, dropping Mendoza’s coffin. It fell to the floor with a crash. His breath rattled in his throat. Edward got his other foot up and shoved as hard as he could, and Marco pitched backward like a tower falling. Dust rose from his impact.
Edward hoisted himself up, painfully, awkwardly on his left arm, and rolled off the table. He landed on the little coffin, with Alec and Nicholassprawling beside him. Turning, Edward stretched out and cradled the coffin in his arms. He drew a long harsh breath; choked on a sob and began to weep.
The sound of their grief rose into the dim corners of the warehouse and drowned out the creaking of the treadmill, where all those arms and legs pedaled so frantically toward Judgment Day.
You done it, son. I’m bringing the agboat round to the door for you. All you got to do—
“What’s the point, you idiot machine?” shouted Edward. “What’s left now? We failed her!”
Belay that. She’s still alive, ain’t she? You think she can’t be brought back? Weren’t you listening to the old monster? Damn yer eyes, get up and go to that cabinet yonder! I want what’s in there.
Edward growled but struggled to his knees. With effort he stood, balancing on his unbroken foot, blinking through blood from a scalp wound. Alec and Nicholas rose with him. Together they hobbled across to the file cabinet. A–M, read the label on the upper drawer. Edward pulled it open with his left hand and beheld a row of slim steel cases, each with its neat label. After a groggy perusal he found the one bearing Mendoza’s name. He fumbled it out.
There were three things in the case. One was a slender silver cylinder, strangely cold to the touch. One was a small electronic component of some kind, crusted with something unnervingly like dried blood. The last item was a sheaf of bound parchment. Edward drew it out, and Alec and Nicholas peered over his shoulder at it.
They beheld diagrams, schematics, drawings done in the style of Da Vinci of a naked girl in various stages of disassembly and reassembly, with representations of biomechanical implants and prostheses. Measurements, calculations, formulae. The girl was recognizably Mendoza, though as she might have looked just entering adolescence. Nicholas’s hands were trembling.
“This is hard copy,” said Alec wonderingly, in a little high stoned voice.
Aye. Her file was purged from the system when she was sent here. She ain’t supposed to exist no more. This is the only record left. Takeit, and take that tube. But mind you ditch the component! That’s her datafeed to the Company surveillance banks. They’d be able to trace her anywhere that went.
With an expression of loathing, Edward tossed the component into a corner of the warehouse and stuffed the papers back into the file case with the tube. He tucked it under his arm.
Come on, now, the boat’s at the door. All you got to do is walk across the room, son.
They tottered back toward the table. As they passed Marco his left hand jerked, fingers clawing.
You see? Nothing kills them. Let’s be off, afore he can get the other hand working again.
Clumsily, Edward bent to scoop up the coffin. They got to the boat with it before his legs gave way. He was just able to set the coffin in the back and tumble in over the side before he blacked
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