I need, my friend, is an amateur trying to help me."
David looked around the room helplessly. The devastation was complete. The bed, dresser, and footstool were broken, the door was gone, the walls were busted at irregular intervals, and a big chunk of the back wall was missing. They, especially RJ, were damned lucky to be alive.
RJ didn't feel very lucky. She looked in the mirror. Her nose was set to one side, and the angle was all wrong. She checked to be sure that the door was locked because she would never be able to explain this to David. She grabbed her nose between her thumb and forefingers, and with a twist, re-broke it. Ignoring the fresh gush of blood, she forced it into place and held it several seconds.
The bleeding stopped, and when she removed her hand a moment later, her nose was as good as new. Grimly ignoring the pain, she moved on to her other injuries. She took the two teeth she held clenched in her left fist and forced the roots back into the already-healed gum. When the bleeding stopped and the teeth were firmly rooted, she moved to the cracked ribs—six at least by the feel of it. Fortunately, they seemed to be in place, or close enough, and were already healing, so she left them alone. Her injuries cared for, she started to wash off the blood, but thought better of it. It was going to be tough enough to explain her miraculous recovery. She left most of the blood.
Satisfied, RJ pulled a black wallet out of her hip pocket and opened it. Inside were three tubes, each four inches long and filled with small white pills. On the other side were a small knife and a syringe. She took one of the tubes out and dumped a pill into the palm of her hand, then threw it down her throat. She took meticulous care to return the wallet to her pocket precisely as she had found it.
She hurt more than she would ever admit, and her damn arm felt like it was about to jerk out of its socket. By morning, though, she would be fine; all thanks to that little white pill.
When RJ came out of the bathroom, she flopped straight down onto the broken bed.
David gave her a worried look.
"Ask me if I'm OK again, and I'll split you," she said. She covered her face with her hands, as if still warding off blows.
Silently, David pulled her boots off and covered her with a blanket. It was dark now, and the temperature was dropping. It was going to be a cold night, especially since they were practically sleeping outside.
"RJ, that was . . . was that a GSH?" David asked hesitantly.
RJ started to make a flip remark, but decided it would take too much energy. "Yes, David, that was a Genetically Superior Humanoid—a GSH."
David sat heavily on the end of the fallen bed. "I always thought they were made up. You know, old wives' tales. Like the little people, but you said there are little people, too."
"Take my word for it, they're real enough." She spoke through her hands, the warmth felt good on the new tissue.
"They say that they don't feel heat or cold as we do," David said.
"They don't," RJ agreed.
"They say their bones are as strong as steel, their skin impervious to almost anything."
"Except rockets." Her small attempt at humor fell flat."True."
"They say that they never get sick, that they don't age."
"They don't."
"Why are they after us?" David asked in a frightened whisper.
RJ thought that was a very good question. Why had the GSH come after them? It was a sure bet that it hadn't just happened to single them out for abusive treatment. They didn't have the emotions necessary to carry out free thought. Then she realized her error. The dead Elite. Elites had wrist coms. All Reliance enforcement personnel did. He was in pursuit, so his would have been on—SOP. Naturally, he would have been linked to someone in Alsterase. Of course, that other person would be another Elite. GSHs were classed as Elites, and while they very rarely wasted a
David looked around the room helplessly. The devastation was complete. The bed, dresser, and footstool were broken, the door was gone, the walls were busted at irregular intervals, and a big chunk of the back wall was missing. They, especially RJ, were damned lucky to be alive.
RJ didn't feel very lucky. She looked in the mirror. Her nose was set to one side, and the angle was all wrong. She checked to be sure that the door was locked because she would never be able to explain this to David. She grabbed her nose between her thumb and forefingers, and with a twist, re-broke it. Ignoring the fresh gush of blood, she forced it into place and held it several seconds.
The bleeding stopped, and when she removed her hand a moment later, her nose was as good as new. Grimly ignoring the pain, she moved on to her other injuries. She took the two teeth she held clenched in her left fist and forced the roots back into the already-healed gum. When the bleeding stopped and the teeth were firmly rooted, she moved to the cracked ribs—six at least by the feel of it. Fortunately, they seemed to be in place, or close enough, and were already healing, so she left them alone. Her injuries cared for, she started to wash off the blood, but thought better of it. It was going to be tough enough to explain her miraculous recovery. She left most of the blood.
Satisfied, RJ pulled a black wallet out of her hip pocket and opened it. Inside were three tubes, each four inches long and filled with small white pills. On the other side were a small knife and a syringe. She took one of the tubes out and dumped a pill into the palm of her hand, then threw it down her throat. She took meticulous care to return the wallet to her pocket precisely as she had found it.
She hurt more than she would ever admit, and her damn arm felt like it was about to jerk out of its socket. By morning, though, she would be fine; all thanks to that little white pill.
When RJ came out of the bathroom, she flopped straight down onto the broken bed.
David gave her a worried look.
"Ask me if I'm OK again, and I'll split you," she said. She covered her face with her hands, as if still warding off blows.
Silently, David pulled her boots off and covered her with a blanket. It was dark now, and the temperature was dropping. It was going to be a cold night, especially since they were practically sleeping outside.
"RJ, that was . . . was that a GSH?" David asked hesitantly.
RJ started to make a flip remark, but decided it would take too much energy. "Yes, David, that was a Genetically Superior Humanoid—a GSH."
David sat heavily on the end of the fallen bed. "I always thought they were made up. You know, old wives' tales. Like the little people, but you said there are little people, too."
"Take my word for it, they're real enough." She spoke through her hands, the warmth felt good on the new tissue.
"They say that they don't feel heat or cold as we do," David said.
"They don't," RJ agreed.
"They say their bones are as strong as steel, their skin impervious to almost anything."
"Except rockets." Her small attempt at humor fell flat."True."
"They say that they never get sick, that they don't age."
"They don't."
"Why are they after us?" David asked in a frightened whisper.
RJ thought that was a very good question. Why had the GSH come after them? It was a sure bet that it hadn't just happened to single them out for abusive treatment. They didn't have the emotions necessary to carry out free thought. Then she realized her error. The dead Elite. Elites had wrist coms. All Reliance enforcement personnel did. He was in pursuit, so his would have been on—SOP. Naturally, he would have been linked to someone in Alsterase. Of course, that other person would be another Elite. GSHs were classed as Elites, and while they very rarely wasted a
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