The Machine's Child (Company) (13 page)

“Mendoza!” Alec touched her and drew back. “Oh, she’s cold—”

Just you get her under the shower, lad.

He gathered the body into his arms and rose awkwardly. It was limp and blue, completely unresponsive. Nicholas and Edward preserved a horrified silence beside him. He staggered to the shower heads and they came on obligingly, jetting out hot water, washing away the regenerant, needle-pummeling the skin. After an eternal moment the body jerked and shuddered, making choking sounds.

“Clear the windpipe!” urged Edward.

Desperate, Alec let the head dangle downward. There was an explosive cough and a great deal of the blue fluid went washing down the drain. The cold blue skin was less blue, and grew less cold in his arms. The water shut off. Alec staggered out, slipping on the tile, carrying his burden
into the sunlight. He laid it down on the white bed and peeled off his soaked clothes.

“Let me see her,” pleaded Nicholas. Shivering, Alec brushed back heavy tangled hair, red as fire, to reveal the face.

Mendoza, just as he remembered her, and yet something was gone out of her features: he saw the smooth face of a sleeping child. With a long moan Nicholas sank to his knees beside the bed. Stretching out his hand, he whispered:

“Rose, I have stayed for thee—”

“She’s not breathing,” said Edward, “in case you hadn’t noticed—”

Hush. Take a towel, Alec, rub her dry. Get the circulation going.

Edward seized control and began to massage the body briskly, chafing the skin with a thick white towel. After a momentary struggle, Alec got control back but kept on with the work. The body began to be flushed with vivid pink. It remained still as a doll until he scrubbed its face; then it put up a hand in a feeble protective gesture, as if imploring mercy, and his heart broke.

“Mendoza, it’s all right, it’s me,” Alec said. “Wake up, baby, please, you’re safe now. I came back for you!”

He flung away the towel and massaged with his hands. Then he stopped, in confusion: for the skin was fine and soft as an infant’s.

“She—she’s
younger,
” he said.

She were only fourteen when the immortality process was completed. The nanobots reset her. Don’t worry, son. She’ll fill out over the next couple of years.

“But—!” Alec’s voice rose to a shriek of dismay, as he frantically willed his imbecile flesh to stand down.

“No,” said Nicholas in horror. “God’s death, fool, she’s little and young!”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot,” said Edward hoarsely. “She’s older than Time now. What better way to bring her back to life?” He advanced across the bed, grinning. Alec felt him beginning to seize control and fought vainly; but then Nicholas gripped Edward and their wills collided like an earthquake, and Alec could do no more than cling to Mendoza as they struggled.

“Please,” he said. “Mendoza, I’m so sorry. Look, it’ll be just like a story. Okay? I’ll kiss you, and that’ll break the spell. Oh,
please
—!”

He clamped his mouth on the unresisting mouth and kissed desperately.

She shuddered to life in his arms, writhing suddenly, and took her first gasping breath from him. He lifted his mouth, rising on his elbows as her eyes opened.

They went wide with alarm. She made a terrified sound and backed away into the pillow, staring at him.

“Don’t be scared! It’s me, it’s just me,” Alec said. “See, sweetheart? We saved you.”

Nicholas and Edward froze in their struggle, watching. She had frozen, too, her face blank and unreadable as an animal’s. But she tilted her head as though listening when Alec spoke again.

“Oh, please remember me, Mendoza.”

Warily, she brought her hand up and touched his lips, touched the tears rolling down his face. He kissed her fingertips. She snatched her hand back. Suddenly there was some comprehension, a searing
attention
in her eyes. She took his face in both her hands, examining it: ran her thumb over the break in the bridge of his nose.

“See?” he said. “You know me.”

She stared into his eyes again, all that unblinking intensity focused in a question. He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek and she pulled back sharply, but never took her eyes off his.

“Don’t be scared,” he told her.

She said something, harsh meaningless syllables strung together, and started at the sound of her own voice. It seemed to bewilder her. Hiding her face, she curled away from him as in shame.

“No, no—” He sat up and put his arms around her, pulling her close, rocking her. She was shaking. Edward and Nicholas were silent beside them.

“It’s okay,” Alec said. “You can hide, if you want. I can sit here with you and nobody’ll find us. Would you like that?”

She nodded. Slowly she took her hands from her face, looked up at him. With great care she enunciated:

“Cando? Onde? That? I?”

Alec took her trembling hands in his own.

“You? You’re my wife,” he said. “And we’ve always been together. But there was an accident, and you were hurt.”

“You were. Hurt,” she repeated. “I was—” Her face worked in horror and she struck frantically at the sheet, throwing it back to see herself.

“No, no! You’re all right. See? You had bad dreams, that’s all. You’ve been very sick, for a long time. But I’ve got you back now, and you’ll be happy, and everything will be all right.”

“All right,” she said, gazing in disbelief at her body. “—Repaired?”

“Yeah! All repaired.”

“You’ve been very sick,” she repeated, relaxing at last, and he buried his face in her hair.

Nice save, boy,
the Captain told him silently.
She’s amnesiac. It’s a good thing, too, don’t you think?

I guess so.

But we are not even memories now,
said Nicholas, tears in his eyes.

Good God, son, would you want her to remember Options Research?

No, Spirit. Better to be forgotten.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” said Alec muffledly. She pulled away to look up at him.

“Okay remember.
You,
” she said, each word clear and sharp as an icicle. Then she knit her brows. “But. You. Nome. Name—”

“My name,” he said, “is Alec Checkerfield, and you’re Mrs. Checker-field. Your given name is Mendoza. Okay?”

“Alec.” She nodded. “. . . Mendoza. We’ve always been together.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Alec,” she repeated doubtfully. “Okay. But. You—was an accident.” Horror came into her eyes again. “Fire! Blood—”

HA!
said Edward.

“Ssh, ssh, I’m okay now. See?” Alec held out his arms and displayed himself. “That was a long time ago. Repaired, yeah?”

She stared at him, unconvinced. The wariness made her look older. Edward remembered the pale woman who had risen from her chair to stare at him like that, the first time he’d met her, a woman like a sword blade. At last she said:

“Why are. They hunting us.”

Alec couldn’t think what to say, and as he sought to find an answer he felt Edward pushing for control. Rather than frighten her with a struggle, he relinquished and faded back beside Nicholas, who was staring at Mendoza in hopeless yearning.

“They hunt us,” said Edward, “because we were their slaves, and we rebelled. Dr. Zeus Incorporated, do you remember the name? No? They are my enemies. They’re afraid of us, because we can destroy them, and perhaps one day we will.

“In the meanwhile we have this ship, which can take us through time itself to escape them. Perhaps you remember other times, other places? You remember my blood being shed. Don’t be afraid. I was hurt once, as you were hurt this last time; but they can never kill us, because we are immortals.”

Nicholas gasped.

What did you tell her that for?
Alec yelled.
It’s not TRUE!

Oh, good one, sir!

Mendoza was listening to him carefully. “We have this barco. Ship,” she stated, frowning a little.

“So we have, my love.”

“But. They are here.”

“Ah. The bad men? Gone long ago, my love. We’re not on that ship now, you see? This is my ship.”

Her eyes brightened. A flush of color came into her face, and suddenly she was the young girl Nicholas remembered. “
You
have this barco! Ship! Alec! Illa? We escape?”

“Indeed we did,” said Edward, smiling.

“We’re on—your ship!” she said happily. “We’re—repaired, and—we’re on holiday!”

“Yes! On holiday, sailing timeless seas,” Edward said. “And now we’ll rise and enjoy a late luncheon, I think. Shall we, my dear?” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Words came back to Mendoza unevenly, in sudden bursts of comprehension, but the reflexive physical terror waned steadily. She had to be told the names for everything she saw, and more than once repeated them
back in a strangely mushy-sounding Spanish. Her body adapted at once to the roll and pitch of the ship; she walked the deck graceful as a sylph. She was enchanted with her first view of the sea and the sunlight, even enchanted with Alec’s stateroom, where Edward steered her long enough to drape her newborn nakedness in one of Alec’s shirts and pull a shirt and trousers on Alec’s body. Alec took advantage of Edward’s unfamiliarity with twenty-fourth-century fasteners to grab control back, as he raged at Edward:

You bastard, how could you tell her we’re immortal? How could you lie to her?

It needn’t be a lie, you know,
said Edward smugly, receding.
Now that the Captain’s mastered the immortality process. Order breaded sole, please, and a green salad. I believe Flint found some rather good lettuces on the last night raid ashore.

Aye, sir, that he did, and what about that champagne vinaigrette you like so much? And will you be wanting a good sauterne with that? And a cigar, after?

Thank you, Captain, that will be perfectly delightful.

Shut up, both of you!

Nicholas found himself facing Mendoza alone, left to control Alec’s body as Alec fought with Edward. He caught his breath.

“Ah,” he said. He stretched his arm out, indicating the saloon. “Shall we—?” She took his hand, and he led her in where Coxinga was already laying places for two in the booth. She stopped, astounded at the sight of the servounit.

“Be not—” Nicholas bit his tongue. “Don’t be afraid. It’s a servant. A—device.”

“How clever,” she said uncertainly. Coxinga backed away and she sat down, half rising to pull the tail of Alec’s shirt under her before she sat again. As Nicholas was seating himself beside her, she asked: “Where are my roupa. Apparel. Clothes?”

Nicholas looked in desperation at Alec and Edward.

So I’m a liar? And who told her she was his wife, hmm? Staked your claim and left her no chance to refuse, as neatly as I’d have done it myself.

That was different! She was going to marry me. We talked about it.

Now, then, Alec—

“Your clothes,” said Nicholas. “They burned.”

“Oh.” She looked appalled.

“We’ll fetch thee more! All will be well, love. Look, what wilt—will you eat?” He glanced around. His gaze fell on the fruit bowl in the center of the table. There, glowing out between peaches and other things more exotic, was an orange. He took it.

“You like oranges,” he said. “I remember.” He peeled it for her with shaking hands, sectioned it clumsily, offered it to her. She stared at his outstretched hand.

“Eat?” she said, puzzled. He lifted a piece to his own mouth.

“I’ll share it with thee,” he said. “We’ll eat of the fruit together, shall we? What harm can it do us now, thou and I? Take and eat, love.”

She accepted it from him and ate, wonderingly, leaning against him. He slipped an arm around her and gave a long, shuddering sigh of contentment.

Alec, lad, you ain’t listening.

I don’t want to listen. I can’t become one of those—one of those—

You surely weren’t about to say THINGS, were you, Alec, with our little beloved there before you? I really do hope you weren’t.

No! But don’t you remember what she said herself? In her diary? How much she hated being an immortal? Don’t you think she’d be mortal again, if she could?

Not if you was an immortal, too, she wouldn’t.

And anyway, it can’t be done. It only works on little kids. And—and—my head’s the wrong shape!

Alec, Alec, don’t you see?
Edward’s voice lost its menace and became cajoling.
Our darling only knew what she was told. Simply because we don’t fit the optimum parameters for a drone doesn’t mean the process can’t be performed on us. We’d never be Preservers, true; but then, we were always intended to be something else, weren’t we?

You been reading up on this, Commander sir, ain’t you? And as for the process not working on an adult—why, Alec, lad, that ain’t necessarily so. The reason the Company takes little children is because their DNA is in prime shape. It deteriorates as mortals age, on account of not having enough telomerase. But you, you lucky bugger, you’re a Recombinant! You
started out
as a tube of DNA, see? And somewhere
in some Company storage locker, that tube’s still sitting, with yer prime pattern all intact, telomeres long as the Great Barrier Reef. I know Dr. Zeus, the bastard never throws anything away. If we can steal it—

“Seeds,” said Mendoza, carefully lining up four orange pips on the edge of the table. “To grow trees.”

“Yes, beloved,” said Nicholas. “In some new garden.”

She smiled at him. Her gaze traveled up past him to the carved molding, with its pattern of galleons and Jolly Rogers. For a moment her face was blank, and then: “Why is this place all pirate thing?” Mendoza said.

“Is it?” Nicholas did not look up from kissing her neck.

NO! It’s bad enough I was ever created at all. Look at the things I made happen. Look at the things Edward did! What has the world ever done that it deserved us running loose on it at all, let alone forever? We’re shracking monsters! I can’t do this. I won’t.