Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (good books to read for teens txt) 📗

Wrogul slid back and onto the floor while the little girl’s eyes opened and blinked up at the roof.

“My Nina!”

“Oh, hell,” Rick said as the old cleaning woman swept Sato out of the way and charged into the room, sweeping the girl into her arms like she was a ragdoll. She wiped the tiny amount of blood away and cried, “What have you done to my Nina?”

“I-I’m fine, Nana,” the little girl said quietly. Nina took her grandmother’s face in her hand and turned it toward her. “I see you, Nana. I see you!”

“W-what? You can see? How?”

Nina pointed at the Wrogul, who by then had slithered back up its support tank and was floating on the surface of the water, content colors flashing benignly. The girl waved at the alien, who lifted a tentacle and waved back. She smiled and laughed.

“He cured the girl’s blindness?” Rick asked, looking between the two.

“Apparently,” Sato agreed.

“How?”

“Nobody understands the mechanisms of how a Wrogul does what it does.” Sato stared at the flashing alien. “We don’t even know how they think.”

“I don’t know how, but thank you!” the grandmother said. She looked from Sato to Rick, doing a slight double take at his glowing blue eyes, and fled with the girl in her arms before Rick or Sato could say a word.

“Could you say something before you go performing brain surgery next time?” Rick asked the bud. It looked like the bud was asleep, floating in the tank and only emanating gentle meaningless lights at random. Snoring? “I don’t think this is going to play out well,” he said.

Sato went back to the door and picked up the heavily-laden bags, moving to the room’s old and worn dresser. For the first time, Rick noticed the man’s dress. It was an amazing transformation, to say the least. If the scientist had walked past him on the street outside, Rick doubted he would have recognized him. The only thing incongruous about his dress was the floppy hat pulled low over his face. It hid his Japanese features well, though.

“Good disguise,” Rick said.

“Thanks,” Sato replied as he laid out the food he’d brought. “An old shopkeeper set me up.”

“What? Why?”

“She thought I was here to fight the Mercenary Guild. Her son is a merc, and she doesn’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive. I didn’t tell her she was wrong.”

“Lucky she didn’t call the police,” Rick said.

“I get the feeling there is no love for the invading mercs here.”

“You’re probably correct.” Rick looked through the food, noting the two lobsters waving their antennae at him, then the fruits and vegetables Sato had brought. “No meat?” Sato moved some apples aside to reveal a pack of beef jerky. “Good enough.” The two began eating.

Once Rick was full, he closed his helmet and belched. Mostly fruit and veggies, with a little beef jerky. Apparently Sato wasn’t much for meat himself. He shrugged. To each their own. His hunger was satiated, and his armor said vital materials were being replenished. He even felt rested after his sleep. He felt almost optimistic.

Shortly after they finished eating, the Wrogul stirred and bright blue eyes looked around. Complex flashes of multicolored lights followed. “Hello, Rick and Sato.”

“You were supposed to stay in the room,” Rick snapped immediately.

“I sensed an injured being and wanted to help.”

“You should have woken Rick,” Sato said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re irresponsible,” Rick said. Sato cringed and gave him a sidelong look. “It’s true. You admitted it. Nemo, and if I understand, this is basically Nemo, never, ever showed the slightest inclination to exercise self-control in just about anything.” Rick smacked his chest with a metallic clunk. “I’m a walking, talking example. He couldn’t cure my brain injury after one try, so he fucking grew extra Rick Culpers to experiment with.”

“Your words suggest you are not pleased with this,” Nemo’s bud said.

“I’m pleased I’m alive, of course. I don’t remember dying. I know it was an important mission where I died, mostly because Sato shared the log entries with me. But you mass produced me after my death. You didn’t do it to…what, resurrect me?”

“No, I was experimenting.”

“Oh, so you admit it.”

“Why would I not?” The translator rendered the Wrogul’s words with a deadpan tone, leaving Rick with no doubt the Wrogul had no issue with what it was doing. “Nemo was doing vital research on the Human genome and understanding the somewhat unique operating mechanisms of your intelligence.”

“Making a small army of Rick Culpers was wrong,” Sato said quietly.

“Nemo and you had numerous conversations about these ideas of right and wrong. He even conceded that, in some cases, such a code of morals makes sense. However in this case, Rick Culper was dead. What difference was there if he tinkered with the leftovers?”

“Jesus Christ,” Rick hissed. One of the blue eyes found him, and he shivered inside the armor at the gaze. “We believe we exist from a divine spark,” Rick said. There, I said it, so I guess I believe it.

“Divine spark,” Nemo’s bud repeated. “Are you speaking of a religious belief?” Rick nodded, and a tentacle pointed at him. “You are referring to a mortal soul; is this the correct term?”

“Yes,” Rick replied, struggling with a growing anger.

“I would ask you then, why are you here?”

“Because you grew me,” Rick snapped. “Grew a bunch of mes.”

“Of course, that is obvious. No, I mean you, the soul of Rick Culper. If it exists, how are you here? Shouldn’t this soul have moved on to whatever you believe comes afterwards? Heaven? Nirvana? The Summerland? Valhalla? Yet here you are.”

Rick ground his teeth inside the armor, glad the Wrogul couldn’t see him, because he was sure the look on his face was one of feckless consternation. “That little