Only Superhuman (40 page)

Emry stared at him. She had no words. But her hand spoke for her. It aimed her gun directly at Thorne’s crotch and pressed the trigger.

He was already in motion, and the bullet only grazed his hip. An instant later, his left hand clamped her wrist and forced her to drop the weapon. His right hand chopped at her neck and she lifted her arm to block it, but the blow still felled her. She kicked at his knee, but he knew her moves too well; he was already moving, so the blow only half-connected, dropping him into a crouch but not debilitating him. He grabbed her calf and she tried to yank it away. He added his force to her motion, driving her own knee into her face and nearly dislocating her femur in the process. Thorne was no longer pulling his punches.

Her free foot kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind from him, but his greater inertia kept him upright. She wrenched her other leg free and rolled away. His hand caught the collar of her lab coat and held it tightly; to get away, she had to unfasten it and wriggle out, leaving herself only in panties once again. She gaped at Thorne as she scrambled away. Had it been an accident, or something more? How far would he go to dominate her?

Determined not to find out, she scrambled to her feet, but it was a struggle. Thorne had bruised her right wrist and left ankle clear to the bone, and the wrist had sustained a hairline fracture, its nanofiber bracing holding it together. Before she was fully upright, Thorne was tackling her, favoring his left leg but barely slowed. All the superstrength in the worlds couldn’t let her hold her ground when struck by twice her own mass. He slammed her into the cold observation wall, almost crushing her rib cage. A second later, a fist-shaped stroid had an impact event with her gut, expelling what little air remained in her lungs. But she’d already launched her knee at his crotch, and though she barely registered the impact, she felt his weight fall away. She slumped to her hands and knees, gasping for oxygen. Her repair systems struggled to regulate the pain and feed her epinephrine.

When she looked up again, Thorne, though staggering a bit, was already recovering. Emry gaped, contemplating how much sexual sensitivity he would’ve had to sacrifice to minimize that particular vulnerability, and almost felt sorry for him. Kwan had not been lying about this either.

Regardless, she had to act before he struck again. But he still loomed over her and was already reaching down. She lunged for his legs, but he grabbed her torso, flipped her upside-down, and pile-drove her toward the ground. She barely managed to tuck her head and take it on her shoulders. But then he forced her down across his leg, his knee taking her in the small of the back. It felt like she would break in half. Then his fist took her across the jaw, dazing her. He let her slide down his leg, then straddled her, a hand around her throat. “You will submit, Emerald! Or you will not live!”

Then his grip loosened as a bullet hit him in the shoulder. A voice rang out:

“Leave my granddaughter alone!”

Choking for breath, Emry tilted her head back to see a pair of overlapping, blurry Grandmas Rachel standing upside-down, gradually coalescing into a single, furious armed figure. “I mean it, Eliot! Step away from her
now
!”

In another moment, his weight was gone from her and she began to feebly pull herself away. “Rachel, put that down,” Thorne said coolly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, you bastard! Ohh, I’m so sorry, Emry,” Rachel said, shaking her head but not letting her gaze leave Thorne as she strode between the combatants. Careful to keep the gun on Thorne, she slipped off her own lab coat and dropped it over Emry, who pulled it on as quickly as she could, never more grateful to cover her body. “I was a fool. I never for a moment thought Eliot was capable of …
this
!”

Thorne seemed subdued, but unreadable. “I will not attempt to defend what happened in the heat of the moment. I regret having to use force on Emerald in any way. But she cannot be allowed to resist or interfere with my plans, no matter what it takes to stop her.”

Rachel stared in horror, but it soon gave way to disgust. “I thought the rest of us had talked you out of it, Eliot. I thought you finally understood.”

“Hawk, Thuy, and Krishna all stand with me. They still understand that Sol System needs order. It needs a real authority.”

“Yes, it does, but a representative one! Everyone having a voice, not one group trying to control it all! My God, Eliot, that’s the whole thing we’re fighting to keep the Sheaf from doing! How could you think it would work any better with you doing it?”

“Because we are better qualified! And because everyone
will
have a voice. No one will feel deprived of representation. We will simply make sure they use their voices in the proper harmony, toward meaningful change and progress.”

“Ohh, Eliot.” Emry recognized the tone. It was that same sad, disappointed tone in her father’s voice when she’d misbehaved or fallen short of his expectations. Only it was far more profound. “You really don’t get it, do you? I thought you’d learned your lesson after the first time you tried this. I thought the rest of us had brought you into line, convinced you to see reason. But it was all an act, wasn’t it? You haven’t changed one bit. It’s still all about control with you. Your overweening ego demanding that everything has to be done your way.”

“It isn’t about me, Rachel! It’s about you, about Psyche. It’s about Liam and Liesl and everyone else we’ve lost to the chaos.”

“No, Eliot. I know you too well. It’s about you. You always talk about Liam and the others as though their deaths were a personal affront. A symbol of
your
failure to control every situation. You always insist that if
you
just had more power, more influence, you could control everything and keep everyone safe and well.” Emry stared up at Rachel, struck by the familiarity of those words.

“But that’s a lie, Eliot. It was your drive to control things that sent Liam and the rest down there in the first place. Your desire for a controlled, isolated world that brought us out here to the Belt, and estranged me from my own son. And now look at what you’re doing! Backing terrorists. Using your own daughter as an assassin. Attacking, practically raping my own flesh and blood!

“This is what power gets you, Eliot! Try to hold on too tight and you just end up breaking things, or seeing them slip out of your clutches. If what you really cared about was peace and safety, you’d see that. But those things are just excuses for indulging your own pride.”

“Do you think Liam gave his life merely for my pride? Would you trivialize his—”

“
Don’t,
Eliot!” The gun was merely an afterthought now. Her eyes held him at bay. “Liam was my
husband.
You do not get to use him against me. Or against my granddaughter.”

Rachel reached down to help Emry to her feet. In doing so, she looked away from Thorne, and Emry’s eyes shot to him, concerned that he would seize the opportunity. But he simply stood there, his eyes unreadable. Was he actually considering Rachel’s words, or just unwilling to attack her and endanger the genetic legacy in her womb? If nothing else, she’d given Emry a lot to think about.

Just then, Emry noted movement in the water outside. She turned to see a Neogaian swimmer at the observation wall, watching them. But no … it wasn’t just any swimmer. It was Selkie, Hanuman Kwan’s playmate. And she wasn’t just watching.

She was attaching a device to the glass. And pushing a button to activate it.

And swimming away from it very, very fast.

Emry
made
her legs work, pulling Rachel toward the exit. Suddenly Thorne was there, taking Rachel’s other arm and propelling her faster. He hit the door control, and it seemed to take forever to slide open. As soon as it was wide enough, the two of them together shoved Rachel sideways through the opening …

Just as the bomb went off.

19

Everybody Out of the Gene Pool!

When Psyche was notified of the explosion, Hanuman and Bast had to physically restrain the anguished young beauty from rushing to the blast site herself. Well, Bast did most of the actual restraining, but Hanuman never passed up an excuse to lay his hands on Psyche’s incredible body.

Of course, he made sure that all he showed outwardly was concern and anger. She knew quite well that his simian anatomy rendered her usual people-reading skills less than effective with him, but he’d worked hard to cultivate her trust for just this moment. “Please, Psyche, there’s nothing you can do now!” he told her, making his voice soothing but urgent.

Psyche whirled on him, her eyes flashing. “How do you know they’re dead? Can you be sure?”

If only I could be,
he thought, keeping it from showing. Rotten luck that Selkie had been spotted; he’d hoped the little
contretemps
he’d engineered between Emerald and Eliot would keep them distracted. Fortunately the bomb had detonated before either of them had gotten out, and the door had automatically resealed itself the moment the observation wall was breached. Eliot and the Busty Blaze had been hit by the force and debris of the blast and then by kilotonnes of lake water; the odds of their survival were agreeably slim. But Psyche’s question was a valid one: he had to be absolutely certain. Selkie had reported by radio from the lake’s surface moments ago, but he’d promptly ordered her back down. “My dear, Selkie and our best swimmers are searching the lake as we speak. If either of them survived—by some miracle—they’ll find them.”
And undo the miracle.
“But I must be honest with you, Psyche … the chances are very poor. Rachel was barely out the door when the bomb blew, and she was badly off. We’re rushing her to hospital to ensure her baby’s safety.” In fact, according to those on the scene, she was conscious—all the more reason to make sure Psyche didn’t get a chance to talk with her. Lucky she was pregnant; her concern for her baby’s health was the only thing that could have persuaded that stubborn woman to leave the search for her granddaughter.

“If there’s any chance at all, I have to be there. He’s my father!”

“And as your father, he would want you to be safe. He may not be the only target, Psyche.” Hanuman moved closer. “Let me suggest a better way. Come with Bast and me to the security center in the hub. We can monitor the whole search from there. You’ll know the moment they find the … the fate of your father. And you’ll be safe there, in case the Troubleshooters have targeted you as well.”

Psyche was shaking her head—but at least she wasn’t rushing off. “How could this have happened? Emerald would never have been party to an assassination, no matter the provocation. And she was too good to let it backfire on her!”

“It had to be the Troubleshooters,” he told her, taking care to drop his usual affectations and sound as sincere as he could. Even with his advantages, this would be a delicate sell. Particularly since he’d improvised the whole thing. He’d been monitoring the Troubleshooters since they’d arrived, of course; they were alert to most monitoring devices, but the Personal Digital Avian he’d purchased from the Moreau Foundation had proved an ideal spy, blending in with the other birds, undetectable as a cyber due to its DNA-based AI. His plan had been to await the Troubleshooters’ sabotage and piggyback Eliot’s assassination onto it, so that the TSC and Ceres—and by implication their Terran backers—would take the blame. He’d tried to sic Emerald on the Troubleshooters in hopes of provoking a conflict between them and the Vanguardian forces, providing a more plausible context for such a violent turn of events. Emerald’s
rapprochement
with them and her discovery of Psyche’s abilities had thrown off his plans—but had provided an excellent backup plan at the same time. “They must have planted a bomb on her,” he went on.

Psyche’s eyes widened in disbelief. “She was nearly naked!” But it looked more like bewilderment than suspicion. So far, so good.

“Perhaps they fed her a pill of some sort, or … switched her selfone.” Best if it didn’t sound too prepared. “I don’t know. There are so many ways to deliver a bomb these days. But it’s the only possibility, isn’t it? Who else here would want to kill Eliot Thorne?”

Psyche gasped, tears pouring from those gleaming eyes, and Hanuman moved in to give her a nice, long, comforting hug. But she pushed him away. “They wouldn’t show their hand so openly. It would turn everyone against them.”

“That’s why they used Emerald, don’t you see? They’ve already painted her as an assassin! She was the perfect dupe! They fooled her into thinking they were on her side, then waited until she went to Eliot, and…” He broke off, making it seem he was too distraught to go on. “Oh, that poor, lovely girl.”
What a waste of two good D-cups.

Psyche glared at him, grabbed his shoulders, and slammed them into the wall.
Oh, this is getting fun!
“What about my father?! Eliot Thorne, the greatest man in the worlds, is…” She was unable to finish the thought. She seethed, the rage building within her. It was the most passionate, most genuine and unrehearsed emotion he’d ever seen in the girl’s flawless face. She’d never looked more beautiful.

But then she whirled to the delegates who’d come with her, eager as always to see to her needs. “Find them,” she ordered through clenched teeth. “Find the Troubleshooters. Tear this place apart if you have to. And tear them apart when you find them! No—no, save them for me.”

She stormed off, her pawns following, and Hanuman scampered to keep up, Bast coming along behind. “My dear Psyche, what do you plan to do?”

“You don’t want to know, Hanuman. I don’t quite know myself yet. I’ve never had the chance to discover just how much prolonged anguish I can inflict on a human mind.” A sob tore out of her. “My father … he always urged restraint … patience … told me not to indulge myself too far.” Her hands convulsed into claws, tendons strained in her supple neck, and she erupted. With a roar, she grabbed one of the shorter delegates by the lapels and pulled him up clear off his feet.
“And where did that get us?!”
she screamed. Slamming him into the wall, she tore at his face with her long, sharpened nails, kicked him savagely in the shins, kneed him in the groin. Deep under her spell, he just stood there and took it, sobbing in her broadcast grief as well as his own pain. The other delegates fidgeted but did nothing to intervene, their faces showing profound sympathy and forgiveness. Hanuman stayed well back. He’d gotten a booster injection of countermeasures to her psychoactive agents this morning, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.