Encounter

Episode 2 starts a few days after the time of this story.

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"OHHH!" Cybersix groaned as she clutched at her left arm as it crackled with green fire, pain shooting up the inside of her upper arm, and seemingly into her heart, "It's getting worse.  Oh why do I delay hunting until it starts getting bad?"

She knew why.  She thought about that strange, strange Fixed Idea....

She lay sobbing, kneeling beside her mattress, the pain in her heart for the loss of 29 accented by the spasms of agony every time she breathed.  The one responsible for her section had been openly criticized by Von Richter for his carelessness.  He blamed her and had beaten her severely, stopping only when a Fixed Idea standing to the side muttered, "He want kill her."

"It's my fault." she thought, "I should have grabbed his hand.  I shouldn't have said that flower was pretty.  I should have gotten it myself.  I-"

"Please stop crying." the voice said.  Something gently enfolded her left shoulder.

"Oh!" she turned and looked into the face of a Fixed Idea.  He was smiling and his eyes looked so kind.  His huge hand covered her left side, but she hardly felt it.

"I know the beating hurts.  Please stop crying."  His voice was not like the others.  It was deep, resonant, intelligent.  Even while he was trying to whisper, one would think the ground shook slightly.

"It's not the beating.  It's the-" she started, then began to sob.

A huge finger touched her cheek and wiped at a tear, "You are sad for your brother, aren't you?  That he is gone."

"Yes, I am.  I should have-"

The huge finger moved to her lips, "Hush.  He would be sad to see you hurt like this.  For him, do not cry."

She reached up and barely got her fingers all around his huge thumb.


Art by Genesis Seidelman, #1 SID.

"You.  You're not like the other big ones." she said wonderingly, her pain momentarily forgotten as her curiosity was piqued.

"I am special, but I am your brother too.  Please do not tell anyone." he asked, looking a little worried.

"I won't." She assured him, "We'll be friends.  That will be fun."

"I would like that.  I must go, now.  Do not cry, pretty one."

"I won't." she nodded, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He stood up, smiled, and said, "Good.  you stop cry."  Just like the others.  She grinned and nodded.  He left, and she crawled into her cot.

"I have a friend again." she thought, "A special one."
 

But she had to be sure.  To drink the sustenance from the vial of her friend would be....horrid.

The pain was subsiding.  She put her hat on, opened the window, and leaped out onto the roof of the building across the.street.  Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, she started the search for the liquid that gave her life.

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Dr. Anthony Zacharias trudged down the dark street toward his home. It had been a long day of teaching, grading papers, supervising the Physics labs, cleaning up, and preparing for Monday. He had stayed late, as he usually did on Fridays. He preferred having everything neat and tidy so that he would not have anything to dread over the weekend upon returning to work. He was looking forward to a nice, quiet weekend writing his next paper.

The street was nearly deserted. A normal citizen would have avoided this particular street, which suited Dr. Zack’ needs perfectly. A regular pattern was something he knew he needed to avoid.

He heard a loud, crashing noise, like the falling or smashing of crates, coming from an alleyway about 50 yards ahead of him.

"Hmm. Quite a catfight, it sounds like!" He said to himself, grinning. He crossed the street and picked up his pace. He did so, not out of a desire to avoid the fight, but to better see the defeated party bursting out of the alley in a spitting scramble of legs and fur. Cats were such proud animals, and he took a perverse delight in seeing anything proud or pretentious getting put in its place.

He frowned as the noises got louder. If those were cats fighting, they’d have to be the size of tigers.

Then he heard the sounds of a man growling and a woman gasping, accompanied by the sound of more crates breaking violently. He broke into a run and knocked his hat off as he reached behind him. His right hand went down his outer shirt, grabbed the ski-mask tied to his wave suit, and pulled it up and over his head in one swift motion,  pushing the edges through the shirt collar and over the suit collar so that there were no gaps. His left reached into his back pocket and pulled out his gloves.  He pulled the right one on, then the left.  Before pulling the left glove down all the way over the sleeve, his right index finger snaked into the sleeve and hooked the knife in the arm sheath by the handle and pulled it out. It had a 3 inch blade, with a wide handle that had holes for his right hand fingers to slip though and more firmly grip it.  It would be very hard to lose in a fight, and doubled as brass knuckles to boot. The blade was held in "bottom" position, opposite of the thumb.

He had practiced these moves countless times, while running, crouching, standing, sitting, and lying down. He knew he was ready for THEM when he had caught himself doing it when being startled out of his sleep at some strange noise in the night.

This would be the first time he was doing it for real. He was prepared to fight to the death, but he always wondered if he would have the nerve and spunk to do it when the time actually came.  He had never considered the possibility that he might have to defend someone else.

"Wave suit on. Wave suit 80 percent." he whispered, "Wave suit, senses full on". He glanced down. The back of the gloves had turned a dark gray and he could hear his footsteps. He could also feel the knife handle through the insides of his fingers. Good. If it hadn’t activated, he’d be running this fast, but in the opposite direction.

There was a crackle of something in the alley, followed by an agonized cry of pain that sounded feminine. Dr. Zack turned the corner, only to duck when something black flew over his head with the sound of cloth flapping. It hit the street pavement behind him. He shot a glance behind him to see a black form crumpled up. It moved slightly, then collapsed.

A roar in front of him grabbed his attention. He turned and gaped at the sight of a huge, hulking brute of a man full seven or eight feet high, wearing a mask, bearing down on him. His arms were as big as tree trunks.

"uhhh! WAVE SUIT FULL!" he shouted, bracing as the giant lifted an arm to backhand him aside.

The giant swept his arm across, aiming at Dr. Zack’ upper right arm.

But the arm stopped dead in its sweep the moment it touched the professor’s arm. The thug had expected to sweep the intruder aside, so his forward momentum made him run into the doctor, but he stopped as quickly as if he had run into a bank vault door. He fell backwards, thrown off balance.

"Well I’ll be damned. It works!" Dr. Zack was immensely relieved and gratified. Theory was one thing, but application was another! He backed up two steps from the scrambling form on the ground and threw a quick glance behind himself to check on the other combatant. The black form was still there, and wasn't moving..

"RRRAAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHH!"

"Uh oh. Almost forgot about Goliath!" he thought ruefully. He turned just in time to see the look of puzzlement on the brute’s face when his huge right fist stopped dead on the professor’s upper left shoulder. Without thinking, Dr. Zack swung his right hand and brought the knife down across his opponent’s right forearm. It sliced through the skin and muscle, missing the bone.

"AAAUUGGHHH! YOU HURT ME!" ‘Goliath’ howled. He swung with the other arm, which also stopped dead in its swing when it contacted Dr. Zack’s right shoulder.

"WAVE SUIT! GLOVES OFF!" Dr. Zack shouted. Gripping the handle of the knife firmly while putting the palm of his left hand against its heel, he stabbed it into Goliath’s right side. Pulling with all his might, he sliced horizontally through the abdomen, staggering when the knife emerged out the other side.

‘Goliath’ grunted and staggered backwards, a look of puzzled astonishment on his face. A strange, green glow came from the cut. He tipped backwards and collapsed to the ground.

Dr. Zack’s heart was thumping and he was heady with adrenaline. He glanced down at his bloody gloves, surprised that the blood seemed to have a greenish glowing tinge to it.

Suddenly, the gloves began to shine a bright green. So did the body in front of him. He gasped and staggered backwards, "Gloves on!" he commanded.

The light faded quickly. He glanced at his gloves again. They were still white. The command to turn them back on had not taken effect. He gritted his teeth in irritation. He had forgotten to utter "wave suit" first, the command prefix for the speech recognition algorithm.

Suddenly, he realized that his gloves were not covered with that greenish blood anymore! He glanced down at ‘Goliath’, but there was no body, only a pile of clothes lying on the ground. He bent down and poked at the clothes. Nothing!

"Hello! What’s this?" he muttered. He had lifted the shirt and saw a glass tube filled with a brightly glowing green liquid. He slipped his knife into his inner coat pocket and picked it up.

It was a glass tube capped at both ends with thick, screw-on metal caps. He tipped the tube. Whatever was inside, it was rather thin and ran easily from one side to the other.

"ohhhh."

"wave suit off." He said, slipping the tube into his inner coat pocket and pulling off his gloves. The ski mask followed, tucked in behind his coat by the time he got to the woman.

For a woman it was. She was propped up on one arm and shaking her head. Rather pretty, and of average height. Thin boned, though.

"Are you okay, miss?" he asked her, kneeling beside her.

"OH!" She jerked her head in a start and glanced around wildly, "WHERE IS HE?" she demanded.

"Goliath? He’s gone. Are you okay?" he asked her again, " That was quite a tumble you took. Any broken bones?" From the looks of her, he was sure that brute had to have broken something.

"Gone? Why would he go?" the second question was more directed to her self than to him, "He had me. I must have been out for a few seconds."

"Closer to a half minute. Hey!" he protested as she got up, "Take it easy, miss! You don’t know if you’ve got a concussion or something broken!"

"I’m okay. Did you see where he went?" she continued to look around.

"Miss, he just vanished in a flash of green light. Do you know…"

At that, the woman turned and ran into the alley. He followed, finding her on her knees scrabbling desperately through the clothes ‘Goliath’ had left. He waited quietly as she searched for a few minutes before collapsing on them, "Oh no! Where did it go?" she moaned.

"Where did what go?"

She looked at him for the first time, then gave a start, as if from recognition. She was more beautiful than at first impression, given those large black eyes of hers. He had never liked the hairstyle she wore, where half the hair was long and combed over the front of the face to hide half of it, but it "worked" with her, "Nothing," she murmured, "nothing."

She tried to rise, but clutched at her left arm, cried out, and collapsed back to her knees. Dr. Zack was startled to see and hear sparks erupting from it, followed by a green glow that he would have sworn matched the tint of the liquid in the glass tube and the glow from the cut he gave ‘Goliath’. "Are you hurt?" he asked, kneeling down beside her, "Do you need help?"

She gasped a few times before shaking her head, "No! I’ll be okay!"

Something snapped inside Dr. Zack, "Young lady!" he scolded her as if she was one of his stubborn students, "*I* think you ARE hurt! You ARE in trouble! You WERE looking for something! But-" Her eyes had gone wide at his outburst, snapping from his face to the finger he was wagging in her face, "no matter how bad your situation is, you should appreciate help and kindness when offered, and you certainly shouldn’t lie about your troubles! Maybe to strangers, but I doubt that I am a stranger to you, given your reaction when you took the trouble to even look at me!"

Irritated, he grabbed her hand with one hand and twisted it so her palm faced up. With the other, he reached carelessly into his coat pocket and grabbed the tube, slicing his finger on his knife in the process. "Ow!" He winced, "I think you were looking for this!" he slapped it into her palm, and forced her fingers over it. He sucked at the slice in his ring finger as he rose, "Good night and good bye!" he turned on his heel and strode out of the alley, leaving her staring at him, the tube in her hand.

On top of the ingratitude of the woman he’d rescued, Dr. Zack was irritated at his own shortcomings. He’d have to think of a better way to reconfigure the wave suit in the heat of battle. And he should have been more careful with his knife. He opened his coat and groaned: the knife tip had sliced through the threads holding the coat pocket to the coat itself. It was his favorite coat, and he was a lousy sewer. He’d have to get it mended first thing tomorrow morning. That is, if he could find a tailor open on Saturday.

And his hat! He'd forgotten that he'd pushed it off in the rush to pull his mask on. He doubled back to retrieve his hat. Most men in Meridiana didn't wear hats, but this one was rather important, having a motion detector built in that would warn him of people approaching from behind him. The inner lining was the same material as the wave suit, and would shield his head from blows from behind and above.

At least, he thought with some satisfaction, all that time sharpening his knife and practicing with it had not gone to waste. Went right through that monster’s belly like a hot knife through butter. "And through this too." He said wryly, inspecting his finger and wincing at the slice.

He glanced down the alley where the fight had taken place as he passed it, then stopped.

That woman was still on her knees. She was lifting the glass tube and drinking the contents, for the green glow was dying away. She shook it to get the very last drops. When she lowered it, she saw him.

Their eyes locked for a moment. Then Dr. Zack shook his head and walked on. He had only gone a few steps when he heard the woman angrily say something unintelligible, followed by the sharp tinkle of breaking glass.

Dr. Zack found his hat on the sidewalk and put it back on. He turned around to retrace his steps but hesitated when he looked up and saw somebody standing next to the lamppost up the street. With a start, he recognized the woman, who was now wearing a broad-brimmed hat and had wrapped her cape around her body.  Her face was in shadow, but it did seem that she was watching and waiting for him. Wondering what was going on, Dr. Zack decided to proceed as if nothing had happened.

He approached the light and made as if to pass her, when she stepped out in front of him, reaching into her suit top for something. He stopped, wondering if he had backed the wrong party. And his knife was in his coat pocket.

She pulled out a large band aid and stepped up to him, "You know, sucking on a wound could infect it." She said quietly, tearing the packet open.

He smiled a little, and was more than a little relieved. He held out his cut finger and let her apply the bandage. It was warm from her body heat, and her fingers were gentle as she put it on and made sure it was secure, "You'd better wash it when you get home and apply some antibiotics." She counseled him.

"It sounds as if you have lots of experience in this, Miss. , ah?"

"Cybersix. Just call me Cybersix." She replied. She squeezed his fingers ever so slightly, "So, how did you kill that Fixed Idea?"

"Fixed Idea? You mean Goliath?"

"Yes."

"With this." He opened his coat and gingerly pulled his knife out of the pocket.

"It seems to have gotten you too. I wondered how you could have cut yourself on that vial." She watched, eyebrows going up when Dr. Zack slipped it back into its arm sheath where it belonged.

"It got my coat too." He said regretfully. "You don't happen to have a sewing kit on you, do you?" he looked at her speculatively.

She smiled, "I have hardly enough room in this suit for myself."

"I should have expected that." He said, shooting a quick, appreciative glance up and down her lithe, trim form. "Ah, I'm forgetting my manners! I'm Dr. Anthony Zacharias, physics professor at Meridiana High School, Miss Cybersix."

She chuckled, appreciating the unspoken compliment, "Just Cybersix is fine. I'm sorry I forgot my manners too. Thanks for rescuing me. I normally could have handled the Fixed Idea, but I was having other problems."

"I see. And am I correct in assuming that whatever that green glowing stuff was, it helps you handle those seizures?" he asked.

She just inclined her head.

"So, it is not an addiction, but some sort of physical shortcoming you have that it serves to relieve?" he hazarded.

"Yes."

"So you need it like a diabetic needs insulin." He mused out loud, not noticing Cybersix looking slightly startled at that statement, "Well then, if I am forced to dispatch another hostile Fixed Idea, I shall be sure to keep his vial for you." He finished gallantly. She was rather charming after all. It was good to know she wasn't addicted to some obscure drug, with all the negative connotations that implied.  A diabetic late for an insulin shot would be as desperate.

"I would appreciate that." She said with obvious gratitude, mixed with some relief, "But I wouldn't do that if I were you. They are extremely strong, and you were lucky this time. Do not risk yourself on my account."

"I believe there is more to each of us than the other thinks, Cybersix."

She just smiled, "Please take care of that finger, Dr. Zacharias, and have a good night."

Before he could reply, she leaped up.  Dr. Zack jerked his head up and barely caught sight of her against the white clouds before she flipped over the edge of the building and out of sight. "Goodness!" he gasped, wondering how much force was required to perform that feat. It didn't seem possible, based on the size of her limbs. She was as dainty as…

He swerved away from that line of thought by working out the required forces in his head as he continued on his way home. He did not notice Cybersix on the roof watching him walk down the street and follow him to his home, a large townhouse located just off Meridiana's main park.
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"Well, mystery upon mystery."  Cybersix sighed as she pulled her hat off and put it in the closet, "How can a high school professor afford such a large townhouse next to the park?  And how on earth did he defeat that Fixed Idea?"

She shook her head as she undid her cape.  Here she was asking questions about her fellow faculty member, when her own behavior puzzled her.

She had thought long and hard about the obvious parallels between the drug addicts on the street mugging people to support her habit, and her killing of Fixed ideas to support her dependency on sustenance.   She couldn't blame Dr. Zack for thinking she was an addict when he caught her drinking from the vial.

Normally, she wouldn't have cared.  She'd have leaped away and not looked back.  Instead, something made her fling the vial down in an unusual fit of anger, then offer to bandage his finger.  What on earth made her do that?

She winced. Her left arm was still sore from shorting out.  Not to mention the beating the Fixed Idea had given it.  A good hot bath would help that, she decided with a smile.  And since it was a Friday night, she'd be able to add the bath oils she normally skipped during the week.  It wouldn't do to go to class and have Adrian literally smelling like a rose.   She started the hot water running.

"So, you need it like a diabetic needs insulin."

She sat on the edge of the bathtub, rubbing her upper left arm while watching the water splash into it.  She thought about what Dr. Zack had said.  She remembered a schoolmate who had fainted in Advanced Literature class because he had been so rushed that he had delayed taking his insulin shot.  He was just an acquaintance,  but the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed her as she watched and waited while the teacher had left to get help was still vivid in her mind.   "I guess I'm not that much different from a diabetic." she thought, "Maybe Dr. Zack is right."

That thought made her feel a little better.  She had a dependency, but not an addiction in the normal sense of the word.  She still didn't know why she talked with him.  Perhaps it was curiosity.  Perhaps it was the need to apologize for her behavior.  Whatever the reason, she was glad she did.
 

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