Sidekick by Carl Stubblefield (10 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

Plus what changes would come with fusing with hybrid-Nth? Could be great or horrible.

“Why has no one done this already then? Couldn’t the Nth have just made the change and helped humankind from the beginning?”

“We can’t do it of our own volition, but it can be accomplished if we are directed to do it. Our job is not to make the choices, but to facilitate them. We should be, at best, amoral. It is sometimes difficult with our construct’s influence on our personalities weighed against the lifetimes of experience we have seen, with decisions made on countless other planets before yours. But the caveat for you is that you must give away a portion of your own Nth supply to do this. Most supers don’t want to lose even a fraction of their powers.”

“Can you just make more, like at the Foundry?”

“There are limits. Not to mention that fewer and fewer supers know about the Nth to begin with, so there’s that as well. I think you also are unaware that there are very few locations that can synthesize Nth, among other concessions…”

“What’s the catch?” Gus asked flatly, knowing from Nick’s tone there would be a tradeoff.

“Two things. First, the hybrid-Nth can make the swap with your other fused Nth, but you will decrease your available Nth armor capabilities. Second, this upgrade will negate your next Nth evolution you would normally get at level twenty.”

Gus’ heart dropped, remembering all the amazing things that were on that list. It was, on the other hand, probably the best way to make this a win-win situation for all involved. And if he really wanted to walk his talk, it was exactly in line with where he thought he wanted to go as a super.

Gus tried to think about the future. Maybe this would be a way he could really help when he finally got to the mainland. He could stay here and level at his leisure, and get some perks when he hit levels 30 and beyond. There was no rush; he could go when he was ready.

“Make it so,” Gus muttered, accepting the consequences. A stinging sensation prickled throughout his body, followed by a soreness that passed over him, then soon faded.

“Okay, touch them on the cheek.”

Gus noticed his fingertip glimmered in the sunlight like he had swiped it through a broken Etch-a-Sketch. Leaving a smear on each man’s cheek, the mark quickly paled as the Nth worked their way into the skin and began to do their job. Gus felt a pang of loss when they transferred from his consciousness to the men. They were not awake yet, but some were starting to stir when Gus began the transfer. Once the Nth hit their systems, they relaxed as if in deep, but comfortable, sleep.

“Now they just need time. The assimilation process will take one to two days.”

Gus felt sudden fatigue go through him.

“You will be weaker for about the same amount of time. Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that, boss.”

Gus just rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to go easy on the training a bit then, no big deal.”

Gus went and spoke to the father, explained the situation, and gave him the keys.

The man listened and rubbed his sore, bruised wrists. Gus could tell he just wanted to get home and get on with his life. He did feel indebted to Gus and begged that he be allowed to do something to repay him. Gus asked him simply to not tell anyone about the island and that he had protected the men.

He explained that he had made a big sacrifice to get the men to change and promised that they would confess on their own if the family would just trust Gus. Internally, Gus was not certain of that at all, but he had hopes that would be the eventual result, or would at least give them a chance.

The man nodded silently but looked at his wife, and Gus was uncertain how everything would turn out. He hoped this was a man of honor. He hoped even more that he was one as well.

In no time, they were ready and Gus loaded the men on the ship. He traded their ether ties for real ropes and gags, uncertain how soon they would encounter someone who knew how to use ether in this manner. A half-hour later they were gone.

Gus sat down and watched them sail out of sight. He stared at that spot on the horizon for a long time afterward.

Tension he hadn’t realized he was holding slowly dripped away. He could have killed those men so easily. He had that power, and he had not taken the easy choice. Or did I? Promises he had made on how he would be different if he got powers. Deserving.

So why do I feel so empty?

“Alan, or Cyclone as he insisted he be called after getting his powers, did change. He would barely even talk to me, like I wasn’t even his brother anymore, since I was still just a reg.”

“And you didn’t like that.”

“Who would? But it wasn’t just me. He looked at everyone who wasn’t a super differently. He had this air of superiority, even the way he looked at people. I told myself I wouldn’t act like that when it was my turn. Over time, it just got worse; he didn’t even try to hide his feelings, and he became more and more rude. Later in life, I saw that this wasn’t just something that happened to my brother; a lot of supers treat regs that way. The way the Faction has free reign in the district, it’s not like supers ever get punished for anything they do. That immunity from consequences changes what a lot of people are willing to do.”

Gus stared at the surf for a moment before continuing. “It happened the first week I started work as a henchman, after constant prodding from my father.”

Another window opened in the corner of the display.

“Is it