Tom Black #2: A Date With Death
In which Asil receives unwelcome advice
and Tom receives unwelcome visitors
Asil looked at herself in the mirror and did a little twirl to admire the peasant blouse and long black skirt she was modelling. “What do you think?” she asked the other women in the room.
“I think this is a really, really bad idea,” answered Yuki.
“Not my colour?” Asil asked anxiously.
“Not the outfit. The date.”
“You don’t think it makes me look fat on the… behind?”
“The clothes are fine,” Hallie assured the anxious Lisa-clone. “The neckline could do with being a bit higher, but the safest way of correcting that would be not to go to dinner with Thomas Black.”
“If the neckline was any higher it would be a full-face veil,” Asil argued. “And I already told you, it’s just a meal out and a ride in the park. Nothing else.”
“The clothing will restrict your movement in combat,” warned Miiri. The former Caphan slave-girl generally preferred a traditional metallic bikini for her own social events; nobody had complained yet. “Still, there will be plenty of places to conceal your daggers.”
Yuki agreed. “I think with a little thought we can probably fit a full sensor pack under there and maybe a remote weapons drone,” she considered. “Hallie, could you…”
“I’m not going out strapped up for surveillance and carrying weapons of mass destruction!” Asil objected. “I’m not Kerry.”
“I’d feel better if it was Kerry going on this date,” Hallie admitted. “At least then we’d have an excuse for having an operations team on standby somewhere within fifty yards.”
Asil shook her head. “Look, it’s just dinner. Tom was right when he said we’d all been judging him, reacting to him as if he was his evil great great grandfather. We never gave him a break in his own right. He actually seems kind of sweet when you talk to him.”
Meggan Foxxx winced. “You don’t trust the ones that come across sweet, darlin’”, she warned. “Never give a man the upper hand. You don’t know where he’ll put it.”
“And that brings us to the question of underwear,” noted Tandi, the former sexbot who’d been working with Hallie on robot rights of late. “Your choice of lingerie for the end of the evening.”
Asil blinked. “What? Why would that make any…?” Then she caught on and blushed deeply. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
“You won’t need underwear?” Meggan asked with a sly grin.
“The evening won’t be like that,” Asil assured her. “I’m not that sort of girl. I just look like her.”
Tandi frowned in puzzlement. “Sorry. Im not with you. I thought you said this was a date. You’re going out. With a man. How can you not end the evening like that?” It was a genuine question from a young woman who was just now considering whole new possibilities.
“This is where not having a master is hard for Earth women,” Miiri admitted. “Who is there to tell you whether you should h’vlak or astia urati with your date? Or even r’dok?”
Hallie had an English-Caphan translation programme in her database and she shuddered. “There’s me,” the A.I. answered determinedly.
Asil’s brows furrowed with annoyance. “I thought we’d decided that I was legally an adult,” she reminded them, “able to make my own decisions now I’m, um, eight years old. I was psychologically advanced to adulthood back when I was being clone-bred.”
“Don’t mean we don’t care for you and want to watch out for you,” Meggan told the girl.
Yuki nodded. “And if the best way to do that is via a broad-scale point-specific laser barrage against your date, we don’t mind the effort. Really.”
Asil stamped her foot. “Look, I just wanted an opinion about my outfit. I didn’t want to give the wrong impression.” She glared angrily at the women crowded into the Lair Mansion changing room. “I have people to do that for me.”
“It is a very fetching outfit, Asil,” Tandi admitted.
“But Black doesn’t suit you, honey” noted Meggan.
“Too many buttons and laces,” objected Hallie. “You might want to think about getting stitched into it instead. I’ll send for some glue, shall I?”
“It’s just a dinner!” Asil screeched. “Just dinner. With a man who hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Yet,” qualified Meggan.
“That we know of,” added Yuki.
“A man who came to our attention by legally demanding the effects of his villainous bastard of a great great grandfather so he can carry on his evil traditions,” Hallie concluded.
“That does it! I’m going on a date! That’s my right, as a person. I’m dating. I can date. I’m not taking a HED drone or Fleabot or a Legion operations team shrunk down to fit into my handbag or a recycled Technopolis combat package or anything else except my purse. That has a comm-card and my mobile, okay? I’m going to have a simple dinner with a man who’d like a look around Paradopolis before he goes home tomorrow, okay? I’m a consenting adult and anything else that happens or doesn’t is entirely up to me, okay? Okay?”
There was an awkward silence.
“I’d say white underwear,” suggested Tandi, still working on a problem within her scope. “Push up strapless and a thong.”
***
Tom Black stood in his hotel room with the curtains closed so he was in total darkness. He raised a hand and moved it in front of his face. Little luminous wisps of ectoplasm trailed from his palm.
“Interesting,” he said. He lifted the Dictaphone in his other hand and recorded his observations. “It’s now an hour and ten minutes since I opened the old box I found in the warehouse where Erskine Black’s possessions were stored. The box doesn’t appear on the inventory manifest so either it somehow hid itself from the Lair Legion’s perception of it was placed there after their survey.”
Black considered the former option, stranger though it was, to be more likely. The crate had been crusted in dust before he’d broken it open.
“I seem to instinctively know what happened to me when I opened the casket I found there. I’ve been suffused with kaos energy, an exotic radiation which has known effects on humans such as…”
He paused as his phone rang. Keeping the Dictaphone running he held his mobile to his other ear. “Algy? Thanks for calling back. Is this a secure line?”
“Yes if you’ve activated the scrambler at your end,” reported the earnest young man from Project: Pendragon, a UK-based intelligence group. “I have the info you asked for.”
“Tell me.”
“Count Belasco Medici was ruler of one of the fragmented European nation-states on the parallel world of Technopolis,” Algy replied. “After he somehow became suffused with kaos energies he took the name Count Armageddon. He gained all kinds of superhuman abilities – Yurt-class strength, enhanced speed, flight. After the kaos energies had worked on him for a while he became basically made of the stuff and could reform even if his nigh-invulnerable form was disrupted.”
“He was defeated though,” Tom surmised. “How?”
“On his own world he came across Premiere and the Science Police. When he resurfaced again in the Technopolis War on our Earth he was stopped by Premiere again, but escaped to become ruler of Badripoor. Finally he was taken down by one of the most powerful line-ups of the Lair Legion ever assembled.”
“What did they do?” Tom persisted. “How was he beaten?”
“They just kept coming at him, according to the report,” Algy answered. “It looks like they broke his will to remain alive. He just… let go of his energies.”
“And the kaos itself?”
“According to a report by Dr Harper it vanished back to Technopolis where it had originated.”
“Okay. Thanks Algy. I owe you and Ben a pint. Catch you later.”
Tom Black snapped shut the mobile and turned back to the Dictaphone. “So is this kaos energy the same as Armageddon’s?” he asked, “Or is this stuff native to our Earth? Will it have the same effect on me as it did on him, or something different? I’ve got to find out.”
A few painful experiments later Tom Black had ruled out strength, speed, flight, and invulnerability. “And for the record,” he told the Dictaphone, “ouch.”
He glanced at the clock. He’d need to be getting dressed up in a quarter of an hour to go and meet Asil. He smiled at that though, then realised that he’s just shed off a great luminous glob of pulsing light, roughly the size of a golf ball.
The ghostly translucent sphere hovered in the darkness, emitting a weird green glow as it slowly spun on its axis. Little tendrils of green mist unfolded from it as it gyrated. It was cold.
“Interesting,” Tom noted. He reached out to touch the globe and it melted back into him as soon as his fingers came into contact. A little further experimentation proved that he could make insubstantial light balls pretty much to order. “So, Medici gets all the powers of Superman, and I get to make will-o-th’-wisps,” he complained. “Typical.”
He left a couple of the balls hovering there to light his way to his clothes, to see how long the things would last. He suddenly had a very disconcerting flash of vision where he was looking at his own back.
“That’s new,” he admitted, flicking the recorder on again. “Okay, I’m having some interesting perceptual distortions,” he admitted. “I can see myself from… two different angles. I can see the kaos energies roiling around inside me quite clearly. I’m… I think I’m seeing myself from the perspective of these will-o-th’-wisps I’ve created.”
He concentrated a moment, and one of the light balls shifted as he willed it. “Also, I appear to have a remote-cam function,” he summarised. “I can make glowing golf balls and see what they see, hear what they hear. Could be useful for a man in my line of work, I suppose. I’d have settled for being invulnerable, but what the heck?”
He dismissed the will-o-th’-wisps and reached for his shirt. He just wished he didn’t feel so chilled inside.
He didn’t notice that all the plants in the room were dead.
***
Asil met Tom at the gate on the city side of the causeway bridge that linked the Lair Mansion to Paradopolis. She felt it would cause less trouble that way. She’d ruthlessly removed the tracker tags that Yuki had stapled to her clothing, deactivated the two silent hovering Holographic Display Emitters that Hallie had just happened to have quartering the area around her, and flushed the concealed Fleabot down the toilet.
Tom pulled up in a taxi and opened the door for her. “I wasn’t sure whether I was going to have to siege the Mansion,” he admitted as she got inside. “Although I want you to know I’d already planned my approach.”
“I decided it was too nice a day to have to do the paperwork after another stunulator accident,” Asil answered. “It’s nice to get away from work once in a while.”
Tom settled back and smiled at the Lisa-clone. “So, ready to show this strange visitor the sights of the New World?” he asked. “I’ve got reservations at the Twin Parody Tower for nine, so there’s time for a quick drive round the main spots.”
“The Twin Parody Tower?” Asil blinked. “The revolving restaurant at the top? But that’s booked weeks in advance!”
“I’m good at getting what I want. Which is to say, I’m rich.” He pointed out of his window. “Is that Mimble’s department store?”
Asil allowed herself to play tour guide for a few minutes. The ritual calmed her down and got the two of them talking.
“This place is amazing,” Tom admitted. “What are those strange transparent taxis, for example? The ones that wouldn’t stop for me?”
Asil looked at her companion. “The Ghost Taxis? You can see them?”
“Well, I spotted a couple when I came out of my hotel tonight. Why?”
“They’re a bit of a mystery,” the girl explained. “Some people can hail them and catch them like normal cabs – except they can drive through other traffic like its not there. Great for rush hour travel. Most folks can’t see them at all, or only glimpse them in a moment of crisis. Nobody knows how they got here or what they actually are.”
“What a marvellous city!” admired Tom. “Later on I’ve got to catch one of those.”
Little luminous balls of light trailed off behind the cab and vanished into the Big Banana.
***
“The best thing about America?” considered Tom Black as they worked their way through the entré in Paradopolis’ most exclusive restaurant. “The ice-cream. All those flavours beyond Vanilla, Chocolate, and Strawberry.”
“That’s it?” complained Asil, feigning shock. “Of all the art, science, human philosophy of our continent and you pick Ben and Jerry’s?”
“Well,” Tom shrugged, “there’s the Declaration of Independence, there’s the Grand Canyon, there’s Bob Dylan, but then there’s Cherry Garcia. You have to keep these things in perspective.”
Asil giggled. She had anticipated all kinds of possibilities for her reluctant evening with the Englishman but she’d never really considered that it might be fun. “How can you pick ice-cream,” she argued, “when you could have picked the A-Team?”
“The who?” Tom puzzled.
“The A-Team?” Asil prompted. “Hannibal Smith, Howling Mad Murdock, B.A, Baracus, the Face…”
“Were they on the Republican or Democrat ticket?”
“You’re joking. You don’t know the A-Team? What about Night Rider? Starsky and Hutch? The Dukes of Hazzard?” The Lisa-clone blushed. “I, um, used to do a lot of monitor duty for the Great Man – Visionary - when he had important matters to consider. Usually on days when there was a ball game.”
Tom laughed. “I pity the fool,” he said with a little grin.
Asil was about to threaten her date with a breadroll for teasing her when her expression changed. Tom turned around and saw a well-dressed couple approaching his table.
“Tom,” Simonides Slaughter greeted him, reaching out to shake his hand. “And the delightful Ms Ashling. This is a surprise.”
Asil remembered too late that Tom had mentioned his occasional attendance at the Heck-Fire Club. Slaughter was the Black Emperor of the historic gentleman’s association. His dinner companion was Anna Salem, the Club’s White Empress.
“Simon,” Tom replied, less than pleased at the interruption. “How surprised would you say you are? On a scale of one to ten?”
“We knew you were wining and dining some pretty young ingénue,” Anna noted, “but we had no idea you were sleeping with Sir Mumphrey Wilton’s little protégé.”
“This is out first date,” Asil answered coldly. “For some people that doesn’t always equate to sex. Of course, you wouldn’t know that.”
“Was there a reason for you interrupting our meal, Simon?” demanded Tom. “Because frankly I don’t appreciate Anna’s rudeness to my guest.”
Slaughter laid a cautioning hand on the White Empress’ shoulder. “We apologise,” he said. “But there are some urgent things we have to discuss. I’m sure if you reflect on the events of the day you’ll be able to think of some developments we need to consider.”
Tom noted that the rose on the table was wilting.
“I’ll try and make some time in my schedule tomorrow before in fly to Heathrow,” he said. “At the moment I’d prefer to spend my last evening in Paradopolis with Miss Ashling.”
“Don’t bother,” Anna Salem advised him. “We can always boil you up a better clone in the lab if you’re that interested.”
“Tom, things are accelerating faster than you might realise,” Slaughter warned the young man. “We know you opened the Judas Box. We know what was in there. Whatever you might be planning, I can assure you your scheme will only be enhanced as an Inner Circle Member of the Heck-Fire Club.”
“Judas Box?” puzzled Asil. “What are you talking about.” Her hand crept down to her purse where she kept her Legion comm-card.
“The Inner Circle?” noted Tom Black. “That’s quite an honour, and so sudden as well. I’m intrigued and flattered.”
“So you should be,” Anna told him. She glanced at Asil and used her telepathic abilities to force the Lisa-clone to drop the card she’d been reaching for.
“Tom, these are bad people,” Asil blurted. “You said I should give you a chance based on what you did, not who your ancestor was. But you’re hanging around people like these…”
“Actually I’m not,” Tom replied. He’d been undecided on the offer until he’d seen the hurt look in Asil’s eyes. “Thanks for the offer, Simon, but I’m not interested in joining your group just now. I’d really appreciate it if you and Anna would just leave us to enjoy the rest of our evening.”
“You’re turning us down?” objected the White Empress. “Us?”
“Leave him alone,” Asil warned her. “He’s with me.”
“Isn’t that my line?” Tom asked. “Really I should…”
Then he fell onto the table as Anna Salem shut his mind down. Asil joined him a moment later. The Empress winced.
“Problem?” asked Slaughter.
“Just a headache. Keeping everybody in this restaurant from noticing what was happening was hard enough, but the girl has been trained against psionic attack and the kaos energy in Black was fighting against me. We’d better get them out of here before they wake up.”
The first rain began to wash upon the high windows of the Twin Parody Tower. “We’d better get back to the Club,” agreed Simonides Slaughter. “I think the first portent is starting.”
The rain was of blood.
***
Yuki sheltered during the brief curious shower then watched as figures perfectly resembling Black and Asil left the restaurant and took a horse-drawn carriage through Off-Central Park. She followed at a discreet distance until they’d completed their circuit and Black handed Asil off into a taxi. The cyborg P.I.’s enhanced hearing was able to pick her up giving Mumphrey’s Pierce heights address, so Yuki let Asil go home. She was more interested in following Black anyway.
Black had vanished. A hurried scan of the area failed to turn him up.
Like the Hero Feeder impersonating Asil, the one playing Black simply shifted form and left the area in the guise of a normal human.
***
Continued in Tom Black #3: Bedroom Regrets
***
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Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Them. Plus a couple of new Caphan terms... (no text) - Manga Shoggoth - Tue Oct 16, 2007 at 10:21:54 am EDT