Chapter Seven
Uncle Gustav
“Don’t call me that! Who the hell do you think you are? How did you know my . . . name.
Gogi sighed. “I’m your nephew, and I’ve been looking for you.”
“That’s not . . . Monika got married and had kids?”
“No . . . the kidnappers raped her. She’s still very . . . unbalanced about it.” Gogi eyed his uncle.
He’s taking everything . . . well . . . so far . . .
“She doesn’t talk about it. I heard all the old gossip . . . can’t swear to its resemblance to what actually happened.
“Apparently it took her several months to escape, and that was to a wilderness, where she . . . she was still seventeen, unchipped . . . well, you know that. With enough Mentalist training to kill predators and hunt.”
“Oh yeah. Monika was awesome. Dad always said she ought to have been a boy.”
“Well. She spied on their Portal site, and finally managed to stow away in a truck and get back through a Portal. She ran around a city trying to figure out how to get home.
“I don’t think she was very . . . sane at that point. When the authorities caught this semi-feral unchipped, by then eighteen-year-old girl, she threatened them with the wrath of her father, and they laughed, but checked . . .
“Her father was horrified by the half-crazed creature he picked up—he had to have her sent to the CC for a wife chip before the judge would release her to his custody . . .
“He got her home and turned her over to the servants to clean up and get appropriately dressed. None of them thought it was necessary to point out to the lord that she might be pregnant . . .”
“Your father went to the Inquisition, they sent the Executioners and Council Guards . . . the ones who weren’t killed resisting arrest didn’t have any details about what had happened to you, just ‘took him to Khrushchev to cyborg and sell.’ They were executed.
Their money was taken. Grandfather put it all into an account and ignored it.
“At least your mother didn’t abort you.”
Gogi sighed. “She was in denial. Then she had these horrible stomach cramps, the family doctor was summoned, and arrived just in time to deliver a premature baby.
“The doctor’s diagnosis: Probably won’t live. To the relief of Mother and Grandfather.”
“So I was handed off to a maid ‘to take care of.’ She took me to a laundry maid who’d had a baby a month before . . . the doctor filled out the birth certificate, biometrics . . . well, I survived, and no one but me and a few of the family servants were glad of it.”
He sighed. “And after I was fiveish, I guess, I found the care ward and the old guys sort of adopted me as a pet, and I was happy to fetch and carry stuff for them.”
He stared into the past and shook his head. “Lord Dietfried always visited the care ward, when he was on Home. So he knew me even before he retired. And when your father, Lord Alwin, was called to the 300, Lord Dietfried took over as my guardian. Trained my Mentalist abilities. And Presented me.”
The Cyborg had sat silently through the whole story. “You learned how to fight.”
“Heh. Got into enough fights at school . . . and, well, did get enough money for a few karate classes. On Netz stuff, training videos . . . With the Mentalist Training to save my ass while getting in enough punches and kicks, blocks . . . I passed.”
He squirmed a bit. “The account the money went into . . . I, umm, tapped it for funds for the Project when I was twelve. And started buying any KHR Cyborg the right age, the right year of conversion, who came up for sale on the Board.”
“Good . . . God . . . And it worked. You now have a Cyborged uncle. And should be realizing that you can’t just . . . erase all the intervening time.” Gustav shook his head. “Eighteen years as a defective, violent . . . I’m glad you fixed that, but . . . how did you fix that?”
“The Orgy Drug. It dissolves the zivvy. There’s enough precursor in the chip to regrow at least twice, so every other day, you’ll get a dose.
It will also attack the plastics and metal of the plate, the power collectors, the arm .
. . jump starts stem cell regrowth . . .
all the way to replacing missing limbs and organs. ”
Uncle Gustav had been leaning back, trying to look—to be—relaxed and calm. Now he leaned forward, and turned his head to stare at the other guys.
They’d all been politely pretending to not be eavesdropping . . . now they all turned and held out their arms. In all lengths.
“It takes about three years to get to adult size.” Gerhard grinned. “I’m two and half years in. Close to unnoticeable.”
Sevastian held his out. “Sixteen months. Fully functional . . . kid’s arm. It looks odd enough that I don’t go out in public much. I figure another year . . . and it’ll be good enough.”
Gogi nodded. “In three years . . . I haven’t actually ever looked at your records. You must have been cyborged with a forged Cert. And the Vogel Trust Annual meeting . . . they always had a Proxy in for you. I never heard that you were declared dead.
“But Lord Ernst had his second Annual Meeting last January, so he’s got to be thinking about it.”
The Cyborg looked at his right hand. “Every once in a while, well, three times in eighteen years . . . I got to a teller machine and withdrew some money. I thought maybe someone would notice . . . not that they could have rescued me . . . But if they traced me, maybe they could find Monika. Would that action invalidate any . . .”
“Attempt to claim you were dead?” Gogi eyed him. “And maybe you should file a change of address. And take some college classes on Netz? You’ll be able to take the proctored tests in three months.”
“I’ve got . . . well . . . no reason to not try for a second masters. Quite common, really . . .”
Gogi nodded. “So . . . umm . . . Maybe start with the bank? See if they’ve cancelled anything.”
Gustav nodded looking around. “Where are we?”
“T3 Boreal, out of Solzhenitsyn. Umm, maybe we should do this on Solzhenitsyn? So if there are any red flags, we’ll be harder to find. You need to remain unfound for a minimum of three months. Get rid of the cybernetic parts, so there’s no physical evidence that you were ever cyborged.”
“Damn. Yeah . . . I guess I can’t contact my sister?”
“It would be best if you don’t for . . . at least three months.”
He nodded. Stared at his cybernetic arm. “The memories are odd. I was . . . a rage filled monster . . . for so long.” He looked at Gogi. “Eighteen years? You don’t look that old.”
“Yeah. I’ll be seventeen in three weeks. I was maybe four or five weeks premature.”
“Oh, gestation time, but . . .”
“Lord Dietfried Presented me really early. I, umm, didn’t want to wait until I was old enough to be chipped or . . .”
“Cyborged.” He sighed. “Yeah, blame the kid. So . . . three months, then surgery, then just wait until I can pass.” He eyed the others. “What about documentation?”
“Uh, let’s just say I have a lot of money and . . . contacts.” The Record Bureau Main Computer has a glitch and approves stuff from me. If I go there in person . . .
“It would be nice, for a change, if I didn’t need to use them.”
“Yeah. Huh. I’ll bet my original Cert is in the vault in Vogel House’s basement.” He eyed Gogi.
“I got kicked out. Doubt they’d let me back in.” He smiled a little. “But if there’s an opportunity . . . I just might take it . . .”
“The Annual Meeting, perhaps?”
Gogi started grinning. “The place is always a madhouse. The other branch sends lots of people, because we’re a dead end . . .”
“Really? Ernst had three daughters, then divorced his wife. I thought he was engaged . . .”
“Almost. Her father found out he’d dumped his first wife and children without support . . . and said he’d find his little girl a decent man to marry. Lord Dietfried stepped in and got Lady Angelica and the girls a house and allowance, but Ernst . . . hasn’t married again.”
The big Cyborg grinned. “Ass. Serves him right. So . . . well, in January, we’ll think about this again.” He sighed. “Three years. I’m probably going to be insufferable.”
Laughter from the guys. “Gogi sends us out on long hikes when we start getting cabin fever.”
His phone gave a double beep.
“And Sam needs help.” Gogi jumped up and ran.
Souta was at the far end of the patio and was out first. Sprinting.
Much faster than Gogi. Never did figure out how a Japanese boy wound up being cyborged on Khrushchev . . . But he wasn’t too far behind when he got to the door of the clinic . . .
A raised voice from within . . . “. . . why you can’t just . . .”
And Sam’s growl. “We aren’t licensed to kill our patients.”
Shit. One of those sorts . . .
Gogi spotted the man standing in the door of the exam room, Souta uneven arms on his hips behind him, and headed around to the back door.
The patient was a small woman, less than five feet, maybe a hundred pounds, with long wavy brown hair . . . twitching . . . badly.
“It’s clearly a bad grow-in problem. Why did you bring her on vacation?” Sam was clearly pissed.
“I didn’t know it was this bad. I picked her up early because of this meeting . . .”
“And didn’t have them turn off the zivvy?” Disbelief in the growl.
“I was in a hurry. I thought she’d improve as the drugs wore off, not get worse!”
“Didn’t the CC say anything?”
“Yes, but she was still glowing a bit, so I thought a little more growth would be good. I wanted her to come on this trip!”
Gogi got a better look at the patient. Young . . . too young . . . figure barely developed . . . “How old is she?”
“Thirteen! She started sparking, so I needed her chipped, immediately, but I need to get to this meeting, so just shoot her with tranqs or something. She’s disgusting!”
“As. I. Explained!” Sam was white faced with fury. “You need to take her to a Cybernetic’s Center and get the zivvy growth stopped. Then with anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, the symptoms might resolve enough that she’ll be a useful servant.”
“I wanted a sex toy! This is intolerable!” He lifted his glare past Sam. “And what business is it of yours, Boy?”
“I’m sorry we can’t help the girl, sir. But you must have known that chipping a thirteen-year-old was risky, and taking her early without having the zivvy turned off? Doc, did you give her the anti-inflammatories and anti-biotics?”
“Yes.”
Gogi shook his head. “That is the limit of what we can do. Now take her away, she’s your problem.”
“Why can’t you just euthanize her?”
“Not licensed. You’ll have to take her back to the city, fill out all the forms, there are licensed companies that will humanely euthanize her, and cremate her, dispose of the ashes properly . . .”
Sam turned to glare at him.
“Look, I’ll pay you . . .”
“I hope you have her Cert, you will need it. Only the legal owner can . . .”
“Yes, I have the damned Cert! I’ll give her to you, and pay you to take her to wherever the hell . . .”
Gogi pinched the bridge of his nose. Pulled out his phone to look for one of those places. Placed the call. “I need a price for euthanasia and disposal.” He poked the speaker mode.
“Weight of the unit?”
“Eh, maybe a hundred pounds.”
“Two thousand six hundred rubles. In advance.”
“Thank you.” Gogi clicked off and looked at the steaming lord.
“All right. Two thousand eight hundred!”
“The Cert?” He prodded. C’mon, do it, you nasty piece of . . .
He snarled and stomped out to his fancy sports car.
Gogi grabbed Sam’s computer and brought up a standard sales form, walked out to meet the asshole.
“I need the ID number . . . right. Sign and hand print.” Fished a cash card out of his pocket and checked the balance.
“Do you accept one hundred twenty-four point oh five rubles as total payment for SZN/9736473625243?”
“Yes!”
Gogi sent the contract. Green light.
The man snatched the card and turned away.
“Hey! Wait a minute!”
A nasty laugh. “You bought her, you deal with her!”
“You miserable . . .” Gogi added some descriptive phrases, as the car started, backed around then peeled out.
He closed the computer and walked back in. Souta was open-mouthed in dismay. “Gogi?”
Gogi grinned and walked back to the exam room. Glanced at the Cert. “Diana?”
The girl had beautiful blue eyes, even shedding tears.
“The only way to fix your issues is illegal. Very illegal. If we treat you, you will never be able to go home. Never see or even talk to your mother. Never tell anyone”
Blinking. “Mum deah. Nev tell.”
“Right. Let’s head up the hill.”
He locked her in with a glass of the Orgy drug.
And collapsed in a chair.
“Damn. And she’s only thirteen so all you horney old men behave.”
“No problem, boss.” Gerhard looked innocent. “But since you’ve broken the glass, how about a couple dozen grown women with moderate grow-in problems?”
“I will not run a whorehouse. If I rescue some women, I will expect you to . . . you know . . . I think it’s time for me to start fixing everyone’s documentation.
As soon as everyone is back, we’ll have some discussions about long term stuff.
I’ll do a documentation run to Home. And we’ll branch out for some long-term homes, jobs, businesses . . . whatever.”
The, umm, “Away Team” returned with pictures and plans . . .
“All right. Let me place a claim and see if the government will accept it. Then you guys can make plans and get to work on what we can do ourselves.”
He pulled up his lists. “All right. I have to go Home to do the document work . . . So it’s time for all of you to pick your final unchangeable names. And some relatives. I’ll run searches, and may need to change some of them, depending on if they’re still alive to refute Presenting you.”
Uncle Gustav stared. “Wait, you’re actually . . .”
“No point in the DeCyborging just to leave you as illegally unchipped. So, whatever the real situation, you’ll all have a Presentation on your records.”