DESPERATE  MEASURES

Part Three:

An hour passed and still he did not move.  Gradually during the hour following,

his awareness began to return. It was, though, an awareness that was very

disordered.  At first there was only the hardness of the floor beneath him.  His

fingers moved slightly back and forth across the tile.  Hard. Yes. It was a word,

a connection he knew. Hard, like the panel of a sliding door.  Yes.  Hard, like

the planks in his horse barn.  Hard. Yes.

Lifting his right hand with great effort, he rested it on his chest. He was breathing.

Breathing was good. He let his hand ride up and down on the movement of  his

breathing.  After a while, his fingers moved upwards, looking for the wolf's head

on his cuirass. Was it Armani?  Had he bought it on Rodeo Drive in May? Where

was Terry?  Who was Terry?  Was there something he'd been trying to do?  He

couldn't...think.  What had happened to him?  Parker? Had Parker done this to

him? On the roof. It was dark and he and Parker had been fighting. The catapults.

No, they were not too close.  He hated the green suit. Really hated it. But they'd

made him wear it. He'd shown them, though. Killed them all.  Except Parker. 

My gods...there were tigers.  It was so hot. He felt the sweat trickling under his

armor. No.  This was not it.  Marcus would hate this. And the green suit. He would

hate the green suit, too.  "Stay together," he mumbled.

Yes, stay together. But he felt as though he were falling apart. Or, at least, was in

pieces that did not fit and so would not stay together. How would he survive if he

could not stay together? Not yet. He'd not been in time. So close. But not close

enough. Pull them up by the roots.  The purple flowers in the pots. Put them on the

graves. He liked purple. Look at the suit that guy was wearing.  He wanted it. He'd

take it. He always took what he wanted. No, that was not right. That was not

civilized. What did he care? He wanted it. No, don't do that. Why not? It should be

obvious why not. How long had his men gone on low rations?  Where was he? A

rhino in the wheat? No, that made no sense. In three weeks he would be harvesting

his crops.  Scream louder. You, there. You scream, too. No, you can do better than

that. Louder!

Sounds, memories, words clashed and clanged together inside his brain. STOP! 

No more! Of course there would be more. It had been...arranged. I'll show them!

You would wait for them?

No! Damn it, I'm not waiting for anybody! I lost many men. Well, good. They

probably deserved what they got. What are you talking about? Who ARE you?

I think I'm going to explode. Is there no room? No. No more.

He licked his lips, tasting nanogoo. He was exploding. Leaking. Something. Was

this a mistake? Too late. You've done it. What? What have I done? Killed my maker.

I killed him. Vengeance? No. Pleasure. Stop! I can't stop. "NO!" he shouted, sitting

up, his face filled with fury, then looking around, gently puzzled, "No."

He pulled himself onto the bed, rolling over its edge onto his back. I've got to get

control of this, I've got to! His fingers clenched over the metal frame rimming the

mattress. You can do it. THINK! Breathe and think! He was used to the whole

multiple personality thing. It was all he'd ever known. But they meshed, flowed

easily one into the other, more alike than not. This, this was different. It was as

though some large, square post had been driven through the center of his

consciousness. It didn't...fit. It stood there, separate, unique, not a part of anything

else. What had he thought it would be like to take what Maximus was and jam it into

the middle of a mass of criminal minds? He had had no way of knowing, not really.

He'd hoped...thought...it might just slide in and find its place. But everywhere
he turned he bumped into the post.

Breathe, Sid, breathe. Find a way to deal with it. The damn post, though, it stood

there, a giant presence that went completely through him. He'd managed for the

moment to make it stand still and felt himself circling around it, sizing it up, looking

for handholds.

"I'm here now." The post seemed to exhale the words and they took shape and
floated through his wiring, invading every corner of him.

"Oh, God!" Sid cried, his lips parting as the sudden knowledge of loss, unbearable
and yet borne, flooded him. He had known with his intellect that Maximus must
feel a pain at what had befallen him. Yes, he'd known that. But not...THIS! It
seemed his wiring might melt with the heat of the experience of Maximus' pain.

"STOP!" he screamed. "I can't bear this!"

"You will bear this." The post had become a spear and blood, red blood dripped
down it into a puddle of blue, spreading out, turning it purple.

He began to feel overheated as though something in him were straining beyond

capacity. If he could not integrate this into himself, and now, he knew he would

literally fry his circuits. The General was larger than he'd thought, took up more

room than he'd planned. Fighting the presence of the new programming was killing

him. So he lay there, wrestling with himself, with his will, with all his old programming,
with all that he had evolved into and at last was still.

"Do it," he said. "Do what you need." It would be all that would let him survive.

And so the exhalation of the presence of Maximus flowed more freely through him,
unhindered by his resistance. And he knew loyalty and genuine concern for those in
his charge. He knew the yearning for home, the ache of endless nights encamped along
distant paths, the even more endless days in the saddle. He knew the jar of muscles
in his forearm when sword clashed upon sword and saw faithfulness earned in the eyes
of a dog. He knew aloneness so alone that it was a shroud wrapped about his soul. He
understood the ways of command and the lack of need to prove who he was. He tasted
the foul stench of betrayal and the grim determination to survive another day. Hour
after hour he lay there as Maximus settled into him.

"I am here now," the General said.

"I'm here, too," said Ted Bundy.

Suddenly Sid sat bolt upright, his eyes going to the door. "Oh, God!" he breathed.

"BRIANNA!"

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