Villiers announced.
Alters creeped Everett M. They were the many yous that Prime Minister Portillo had carefully avoided talking about. Sometimes they were the same sex, sometimes, like Charles and Charlotte, they were not. Everett M knew the urban legends about alters—that they could share thoughts across universes, that many famous people had been replaced by evil alters without anyone ever knowing, that they should never meet because if they did they would annihilate eachother in a colossal explosion that would destroy everything inside ten kilometers.
Charlotte Villiers extended a gloved hand. With a flicker of thought Everett M retracted his weaponry. The hatches in his arms closed without a seam. He took the offered hand. Charlotte Villiers's grip was strong, but with the Thryn enhancements, he could crush it like an origami bird. He could crush any hand. He hardly needed to think about the weapons Madam Moon had put inside his hands and forearms, the grip she had put in his fingers and the agility in his shoulders, the speed in his legs, the sight in his eyes that went way beyond normal vision, the super-sharp hearing, the new sense that was not quite sight and not quite hearing, more like a radar in his head. They were as much a part of him now as the lungs and heart and brain he had been born with. But could he even trust those? Just because he couldn't see them didn't mean they had not been touched by Madam Moon. There might be no part of him that had not been rebuilt by Thryn technology.
“Impressive, Mr. Singh,” Charlotte Villiers said. “It's almost second nature to you. Thought and action one seamless whole. I think you'll soon be ready for what we need you to do. Soon.”
“I don't quite understand what you mean ma'am.” Everett M had learned that Plenipotentiaries expected to be addressed respectfully. Shake their hands. Bow to them. Call them ma'am and sir. He did so, even though he mistrusted Charles Villiers and mistrusted his cool, arrogant alter even more.
“Paintballs, Mr. Singh. Really, what are they? A small sting and a stain that quickly washes out. The real world does not fire paint, Mr. Singh. The real world fires lead. Dare you face a live-fire run, Mr. Singh? Safeties off. No paint. Lead. Hot lead. That's a test worthy of what we've had done to you.”
“That's a big ask, Ms. Villiers.” Despite the veil, Charlotte Villiers could look Everett M clear and straight in the eye in a way that her alter, Charles, could not. Everett M could look straight back.
“Yes it is, but I couldn't ask it if I were not prepared to do it myself. A race, Mr. Singh. First out of the gate wins. Live fire. Are you up to it, Mr. Singh?”
“Ms. Villiers, I don't mean to be rude, but I've been fitted with Thryn technology.”
Charlotte Villiers snapped open her bag. She took out a small gun. It was as pretty as jewellery, with an ivory handle, a barrel engraved with twining flower patterns.
“St. Xavious's School Shooting Champion 1996; Cambridge Ladies Sporting Pistol and Revolver 1997, 1998, 1999; All-England Women's Small Arms 2000, Empire Games Gold Medal 2001. Charles, be a darling, set up a doubles course.”
“Ms. Villiers, I don't think…” her alter said.
“Charles, my mind is set.”
Charles Villiers went to the control panel, a black oval on the top of a white cylinder that was the only feature in the white antechamber. White on white was the colorless color of the Thryn, but Everett M knew by the tug of gravity that this training facility was not on the Moon. Where it might be, he had no idea. He had walked through a doorway, and in one step he'd felt the weight on his bones grow six times. Charles Villiers's finger hesitated over the touch panels. His alter snapped him a freezing look. Charles's fingers danced over the glowing lights. Everett M heard subtle machinery whir beyond the big, white wall with the glowing exit portal. The floor trembled. He was learning this about Thryn
Alters creeped Everett M. They were the many yous that Prime Minister Portillo had carefully avoided talking about. Sometimes they were the same sex, sometimes, like Charles and Charlotte, they were not. Everett M knew the urban legends about alters—that they could share thoughts across universes, that many famous people had been replaced by evil alters without anyone ever knowing, that they should never meet because if they did they would annihilate eachother in a colossal explosion that would destroy everything inside ten kilometers.
Charlotte Villiers extended a gloved hand. With a flicker of thought Everett M retracted his weaponry. The hatches in his arms closed without a seam. He took the offered hand. Charlotte Villiers's grip was strong, but with the Thryn enhancements, he could crush it like an origami bird. He could crush any hand. He hardly needed to think about the weapons Madam Moon had put inside his hands and forearms, the grip she had put in his fingers and the agility in his shoulders, the speed in his legs, the sight in his eyes that went way beyond normal vision, the super-sharp hearing, the new sense that was not quite sight and not quite hearing, more like a radar in his head. They were as much a part of him now as the lungs and heart and brain he had been born with. But could he even trust those? Just because he couldn't see them didn't mean they had not been touched by Madam Moon. There might be no part of him that had not been rebuilt by Thryn technology.
“Impressive, Mr. Singh,” Charlotte Villiers said. “It's almost second nature to you. Thought and action one seamless whole. I think you'll soon be ready for what we need you to do. Soon.”
“I don't quite understand what you mean ma'am.” Everett M had learned that Plenipotentiaries expected to be addressed respectfully. Shake their hands. Bow to them. Call them ma'am and sir. He did so, even though he mistrusted Charles Villiers and mistrusted his cool, arrogant alter even more.
“Paintballs, Mr. Singh. Really, what are they? A small sting and a stain that quickly washes out. The real world does not fire paint, Mr. Singh. The real world fires lead. Dare you face a live-fire run, Mr. Singh? Safeties off. No paint. Lead. Hot lead. That's a test worthy of what we've had done to you.”
“That's a big ask, Ms. Villiers.” Despite the veil, Charlotte Villiers could look Everett M clear and straight in the eye in a way that her alter, Charles, could not. Everett M could look straight back.
“Yes it is, but I couldn't ask it if I were not prepared to do it myself. A race, Mr. Singh. First out of the gate wins. Live fire. Are you up to it, Mr. Singh?”
“Ms. Villiers, I don't mean to be rude, but I've been fitted with Thryn technology.”
Charlotte Villiers snapped open her bag. She took out a small gun. It was as pretty as jewellery, with an ivory handle, a barrel engraved with twining flower patterns.
“St. Xavious's School Shooting Champion 1996; Cambridge Ladies Sporting Pistol and Revolver 1997, 1998, 1999; All-England Women's Small Arms 2000, Empire Games Gold Medal 2001. Charles, be a darling, set up a doubles course.”
“Ms. Villiers, I don't think…” her alter said.
“Charles, my mind is set.”
Charles Villiers went to the control panel, a black oval on the top of a white cylinder that was the only feature in the white antechamber. White on white was the colorless color of the Thryn, but Everett M knew by the tug of gravity that this training facility was not on the Moon. Where it might be, he had no idea. He had walked through a doorway, and in one step he'd felt the weight on his bones grow six times. Charles Villiers's finger hesitated over the touch panels. His alter snapped him a freezing look. Charles's fingers danced over the glowing lights. Everett M heard subtle machinery whir beyond the big, white wall with the glowing exit portal. The floor trembled. He was learning this about Thryn
Similar Books
