Page 106 of The Gathering
“Korbeu Krow,” Handy said, smiling. “That’s a bad-a-double-s name.”
Beth’s laugh gushed then Bishop’s followed. He lifted up and pulled Handy’s head to his shoulder. “Thank you for this brother. Thank you.”
****
“There he is!” Sister Beatrice said, turning to Sinrik excitedly. “Look! He’s tending the garden!” she praised. “And he absolutely loves it!”
Sinrik studied his soldier from a distance, searching for tampering signs. He was his first creation and there was none greater after him. He eyed the black robe tied at the waist, his hairless, tattooed head making him look like a Samuri.
Tending a garden wasn’t automatically a red flag if he’d defaulted to captivity mode. The protocol allowed him a degree of submission to his captors while securing his escape.
But for now, Sinrik needed to set all his protocols to non-lethal, so he didn’t kill a nun with a cucumber.
“Come on,” his birdie tweeted, all pride and joy as she hurried to her other charity work. “Idothink he loves husbandry,” she bragged. “Morgue!” she called. “You have a visitor!”
Morgue straightened and stared at her then Sinrik, his eyes and face as lethal as they should be.
He watched him with the nun who handled her charity case with her bare hands, showering him with near royalty-status praise. “What a great work you’ve done here, Morgue,” she gasped, inspecting the groomed plants. “I have never seen more happier plants!” she assured, smashing her tiny fists on her waist.
Sinrik pulled his gaze off the flitting bird and ran into Morgue’s lethal stare while Beatrice prattled on. Sinrik approached him. “I need to access your Directive Stack. It’s on the base of the brain stem.”
The look in Morgue’s stare was definitely more than what Sinrik had put.
“I know where it is,” Morgue said. “And you no longer have permission to access it.”
Sinrik watched him return to his husbandry work. He took in a deep breath and looked around. “Do you know who altered your Directives and how?”
“I do,” he said, proving the override with a direct withholding of data.
“Have you spoken to the Belle Eveque? Beth?” Sinrik asked, hoping it was her work and not her husband’s.
“I have not,” he said as Beatrice came to stand next to Sinrik with a look.
“What?” he demanded quietly.
“I alreadytoldyou who did it,” she said, barely letting her mouth move.
He regarded Morgue. “Did Bishop touch your Directive Stack?”
“He did,” Morgue said without looking up from his bare hand pruning.
“Are you no longer under my command?” Sinrik pressed, needing to hear it with his own words.
Morgue straightened and looked right at him while Beatrice suddenly looked panicked. “He removed the failsafe. And replaced it with a conscience gate.”
“Yes!” Beatrice said happily, grabbing Sinrik’s arm, tugging him. “Let’s see about the business at the bayou just over there.”
“And how are you going to use a conscience if you don’t’ possess one?”
Morgue moved his gaze around him. “I’ll gain one.”
“How?”
“What do you meanhow,” his birdie fussed, suddenly right between them. “He’ll learn, that’s how. He’s got a brilliant mind and body—he’ll use it as it was intended. To nurture and care for all living things.” She eyeballed Sinrik with wide eyes. “You could stand some rewiring yourself if that isn’t commonsenseto you!” she said sharply, bossy gaze closer before whispering, “You should be ashamed of yourself for removing a man’s conscience—”
“Nothis,” he assured, cutting her off.
She dug her stare into his, then looked back at Morgue, then back at him, aiming her little index finger at him. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Mr. Creator of Mayhem and… Director of Chaos.”
