“How does this change anything?”
“You know the legends about the Salty Seas people,” Bender replied. “Even allowing for a lot of exaggeration, they were fierce warriors and tough athletes. Now assume some exaggeration on the part of our agents, partly to excuse their own incompetence, and suddenly you have Quinlans who can fly.”
“How did he throw Popeye across the room?”
“We have a form of fighting where we use the opponent’s weight and momentum against him,” I volunteered. “Popeye was coming at me, I just redirected him toward the wall.” It was not quite a lie, and a pretty plausible description of jujitsu. Especially for someone who hadn't been there.
“So he doesn't know anything, and we've revealed ourselves to him?”
“You haven't revealed anything that isn't already part of rumor or legend in the general populace,” I said. “You aren’t nearly as secret as you think. Neither is the Administrator.” Wow, I was really racking up the lies. I hoped my karma meter wouldn't throw a sprocket.
Natasha came over, grabbed a chair, and sat across from me. Philip screeched his chair over to give her some space. “So, what shall we do with you, Bob?” she asked. “The safest thing would be to dispose of you.”
I nodded. “Hmm. Yep. Assuming you can, without me causing a lot of damage on the way out. And assuming my friends don't get wind of it come after you. And,” I held up a finger in a dramatic gesture, “assuming you really aren't any better than the Administrator and their minions. I mean, this whole thing about ‘fighting for the people’ and so forth, well, it could be just so much fertilizer.”
Natasha gave me a thin smile. “A very transparent attempt at manipulation, Bob.” She turned the radio. “What do you think, Motorola?”
“He’s not our enemy. At worst, he's neutral.”
“He knows who we are, though.”
“I know who you are. Personally.” I interjected. “What am I going to do with that, run to the Administrator? Assuming I can even find them.”
“Nevertheless…” Natasha became thoughtful for a moment, then grimaced in apparent distaste and turned to Philip. “Kill him. Make it quick.”
Philip didn't hesitate. I think maybe I’d hurt his feelings earlier. He grabbed one of his larger implements of destruction and stabbed straight at where my heart should be.
Computer reflexes or not, breaking the manacles slowed me down. I didn't want more damage to my wrists, so I had to avoid yanking on the chains with my full strength. Unfortunately, that meant I wasn't quite able to get out of the way of the knife. I twisted and watched in slow motion as the blade slashed across my chest, opening a long shallow cut in my skin. Fake blood spurted, then slowed as internal systems went into high alert.
I grabbed Philip by the wrist and shoulder and helped him continue his journey in a straight line, ending against the wall. He bounced with the most satisfying thump, and fell to the ground. Quickly, I kicked my feet, breaking the last links holding me. Natasha pulled one of the tranquilizer guns and took aim. I spared a moment to wonder if she was a double agent. But no, more likely they liberated the gun from one of the Administrator’s minions at some point. All very interesting, but she was about to shoot me, which could be bad in so many ways. At minimum, when I didn't drop to the ground and drool on the carpet, my cover would be blown. At worst, the dart might hit a critical system. I wasn't invulnerable by any means.
Everything slowed in my perception, as I frame-jacked as much as possible without losing the connection with my Manny. I watched the barrel of the gun and tried to calculate the trajectory as I moved to the side at maximum speed. Natasha's expression turned to surprise and panic, and she pulled the trigger. I could just make out the flechette as it passed to my left. She attempted to correct her aim and lead me, and I reversed direction. The second shot went past me on the right. I dove to the ground and slid into her legs, and she went down on her face. I jumped up, grabbed the gun grabbed my backpack and stopped, looked at the Motorola - Bender.
Ah, what the hell.
I grabbed the radio, tucked it more or less under my arm, and made for the door. Just as I got there, the door opened to show Jeeves, his face finally registering something other than disdain. I straight-armed him with the backpack and ran over him as he toppled - right into a room full of Quinlans.
The group who’d grabbed me in the first place looked up from their meal. Apparently, Jeeves had followed through on the offer of nourishment. A frozen moment of mutual inspection was broken as they all jumped to their feet, plates and food scattering in all directions. The cleaning staff would have their work cut out for them. But meanwhile, I had a backpack in one hand, a gun in the other, and an antique radio under an arm. This would severely limit my fighting ability. Time to take a cue from all those Jackie Chan movies.
I hooked a footstool with a foot and flung it at one of the hench-critters, then tossed the radio to Frieda. I jumped at the third and knocked him over before he could react, then grabbed the radio back from Freda and bashed it into the face of the first. He fell over backward onto a side table, smashing it. Natasha was not going to be pleased.
Freda took the opportunity to grab a convenient short sword and made to poke me with it. I parried with the radio, being careful to avoid having her stab straight into it. I needed the electronics in one piece. She stepped back and started edging toward the door. I wasn't sure if she was trying to
