Kevin Anderson - Resurrection, Inc.

Danal waited, feeling the regular beat of his synHeart, but Gregor made no further response.

“You have to admit he’s got a damned good argument, Gregor,” Laina interrupted. Many of the other Wakers murmured in agreement.

Gregor looked at Zia’s chaotic features again as she observed them, moving from lighter to deeper shadow as she swayed on the hammock. Danal watched the expressions on Gregor’s face change, and he knew the other Waker had made up his mind.

Danal found a public Net booth and slipped inside. The timekeeper in his head told him that barely an hour had passed since the meeting of the Wakers, and already things had begun in earnest. He breathed deeply, feeling the tense excitement pounding through him. Soon it would all be over. He only wished it had never begun in the first place.

The air was damp and cold, with gray clouds sopping up the skies. Other pedestrians moved quickly along the sidewalks, heads down, and paying little attention to anything else. A mass-trans skipper churned past, stopping at corners, but no one got on or off. Several jobless blues sat next to each other in silence on the poured-stone lip of a dormant fountain. The cold streaked their cheeks with a pink flush.

Danal looked up between the tall buildings to where the jagged gables of the Van Ryman mansion jutted into the grayness. He had picked the particular booth for a specific purpose, so he could keep an eye on the mansion. It would act like fuel for his anger, his determination.

“Nathans destroyed my life and my love,” he said to Rikki beside him, “but the imposter in there stole my identity, myself. That’s a more personal insult, and I’ll confront him alone. This’ll be our first blow.”

Zia had also suggested they confront the false Van Ryman first. “Yeah, Nathans is the guiding force behind neo-Satanism and all their plans. But the imposter is the High Priest. Even if we get Nathans now, Joey’ll still complete the massacre tonight. Why not take him out first, since he can cause the immediate damage? Besides, that’ll make Nathans sweat a little.”

Danal and the boy crowded into the booth, avoiding the cold and damp. They had gone out together, dressed as father and son, to begin the preparations. Rikki reveled in his role and hung close to Danal, asking questions, pointing out things. Back at the Wakers’ camp, Gregor and Laina worked on other plans. Danal wished he could be in both places at once, but he had chosen to be here, on the streets, where he could actively see the mansion, feed his enthusiasm.

In the Net booth Danal logged on as Vincent Van Ryman and then straightened as the main Net menu showed on the screen. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to massage away the knot of tension there. He gracefully moved aside from the keypad. “All yours,” he said and turned the terminal over to the freckle-faced Waker.

Rikki made a show of cracking his knuckles before his fingers flew over the keypad. Occasionally he paused and scrutinized the screen, then set off in another direction. With the speed and intensity of the boy’s finger strokes, Danal lost track of what he was doing.

“I didn’t know there were so many repair-rats in the whole Metroplex!” Rikki cried as the display formed on the screen. “Look at them all!” Danal peered over the boy’s shoulder. Numbers and coordinates scrolled up and off the screen in an endless stream.

“And those are just the ones in this section, too. They’re self-replicating, remember?” Danal tapped on the images. “But we only need a couple of them.”

Rikki found two repair-rats in the vicinity of the Van Ryman mansion, then erased all the others from the display.

“I’ll take over from here,” Danal said.

Rikki looked at him with a touch of condescension. “You sure you don’t need any more help?”

Danal punched the boy in the shoulder. “I’m not a complete idiot. I used to be pretty good on The Net—I can handle some simple controls now.”

As he talked, he set the blips of the repair-rats to work on the wiring of Van Ryman’s Intruder Defense Systems. Danal lost himself in trying to remember details, blueprints, electronic schematics. He opened another window on the screen, trying to connect with other libraries, but the details of Van Ryman’s Intruder Defense Systems were, understandably, impossible to get. He let out a long breath and went back to work, forced to rely on his memory. He had designed the systems—his intuition would be right.

Rikki watched him in fascination, crowding in, but Danal paid no attention. Outside, a middle-aged man pressed his face against the Net booth for a moment, staring at them, but then he left. Rikki switched on the privacy screens.

“Are you going to disconnect the Intruder Defense Systems?” Rikki asked. “So you can get inside?”

“No. I don’t want to do anything he’ll notice. I’m not worried about getting in—I left an escape hatch for myself when I designed the systems. It’s beating the imposter once I get inside—that’s what I’m concerned about.”

Sitting by the fireplace playing cribbage with Julia… relaxing in the sauna and drinking iced tea… feeling like an idiot as he balanced on the gables with a crowbar to remove the gargoyles… flying the hovercopter, swooping down close to the ocean and watching Julia laugh in terrified delight. Those were his memories, from his life—no one could steal them from him. He remembered her image in the hologram over the mantel, and superimposed on that he saw the Servant Julia, mindless and unthinking. Some things are too sacred to steal. It made him look forward to confronting the imposter.

“The repair-rats will take a couple of hours to finish,” he said to Rikki. “I need to stay here and direct them. Why don’t you make sure Gregor isn’t changing his mind about tonight?”

“I want to stay here and help—”

“You’ll help me the most if you go make sure Gregor hasn’t changed his mind. Besides, I need some time alone to… to set my mind, you know? I have to get ready for this.”

Rikki nodded. “Good luck, then.” Awkwardly he gave Danal a quick handshake before he slid open the Net booth and dashed off into the streets. Danal settled back to wait, running thoughts over and over in his mind until it was time. He watched the coordinates of the repair-rats on the screen as they worked out of sight underground.

A relentless drizzle hung in the air as Danal stalked toward the Van Ryman mansion. By now the sun had set, marking the beginning of Walpurgis Night, but he could tell little difference in the murky skies.

The repair-rats had finished their work. He was about to begin.

Pedestrians had been driven to shelter from the cold and the rain, leaving the streets hushed and empty. A wind stirred the dead fronds of a nearby palm tree, making it sound like a rattling witch’s broom.

Danal wore his old Servant jumpsuit defiantly, making no attempt to hide his identity. Let the imposter be watching, he thought. Maybe he’s got a guilty conscience. He smiled grimly to himself. He never thought he’d be his own avenging angel.

The drizzle clearly outlined the hemispherical screen of the Intruder Defense field as droplets struck it and flashed into steam. As if he were looking through a distorted fishbowl, Danal could see the ornate spires and reptilian shingles of the mansion. The new gargoyles grimaced down at him from the other side of the invisible wall.

The cold drizzle beaded on his smooth skin and soaked into the jumpsuit. His synHeart had begun to pound, but he stepped it down, calming himself, feeling adrenaline lift him into a clear-minded euphoria.

He edged around the house, around the Intruder Defense field. No one would stop him now. He wouldn’t allow it. He had to focus his attention completely.