Garm and Tommy's Story
A lot of people have asked me for the story behind the characters in one of my pictures - [Garm-In the Tank](%5C). Basically, they were role-playing game characters from a GURPS campaign I played in a few years ago. I played Garm, a huge, genetically-engineered dire wolf super soldier, and my friend Wind played Doctor Tommy Banner, a somewhat deranged - though good-hearted - mad scientist who had created him. Anyway... I dug up the origin story I hammered up ages ago for the two of them. People are always asking me about it. I didn't really polish this one too much, and it's an older piece, so it's a bit rough. I added an ending to what I'd already written, and here it is.
"Dr. Banner, I hope I don't have to continue repeating myself."
The voice wasn't particularly loud, but slowly, it filtered through the dreamlike fugue of Dr. Tommy Banner's hyperfocused state. He fumbled around, eyes still glued to the holo-reader that was pouring forth 4-dimensional representations of a complex genetic sequence. His small, brown-furred paw hurriedly flicked at the shutoff for the interlab messenger system.
"Dr. Banner, I am physically present. Shutting off the receiver won't do you any good."
The small ferret turned around, startled. Looking up, he saw a familiar face. Well... vaguely familiar. He was fairly sure it wasn't one of his assistants. And it didn't look like one of the other researchers. The other researchers wouldn't even be in this room without a cleansuit. Dr. Banner noticed that he'd forgotten to put his own cleansuit on, now that he was thinking about it. He wore only the white, rumpled, old-style labcoat he'd been given as a joke by a colleague - over a set of clothing so mismatched that the coat was a sartorial analgesic.
"Dr. Banner. The decanting is behind schedule. Would you care to explain?"
Whoever it was, Banner felt a vague uneasy feeling, prompting him to try harder to focus on the source of the disruption. The holo-reader tugged at his awareness, and it was only with effort that Banner tore his eyes away.
The man addressing him had slicked-down blonde hair, above a tall forehead. A suit so black it showed no detail. Hawklike nose, unpleasantly piercing grey eyes. An expectant and disappointed look. Ah. Yes. The program director. That's who it was. And he was talking. What did the vicious old primate want?
"Dr. Banner. I see I have finally penetrated your little bubble. Now would you care to explain to me why the decanting is behind schedule?"
"Oh. Director... Hunnicutt. Yes, well, schedule needed to be changed. Made adjustments. Subject needed more time."
"Morgrimm," the man responded.
"Excuse me?" said Banner, squinting up at him.
"Director Hunnicutt was my predecessor, Dr. Banner. He died in that little incident. You know the one I'm referring to."
After a while, all the bosses seemed to sort of run together. They even looked alike. Of course this one was different. A little more... Oh.... He'd still been talking.
"Oh. Yes." Banner actually wasn't sure, which incident in particular. After all, there'd been several things that could qualify as 'incidents' in the years since he'd begun working for Gencore. Some of them... if he thought about them too much, it was hard to keep working. So he didn't think about them. The holo-reader glowed tantalizingly at the edge of his vision...
"Oh... oh yes. Well... you see... that was unfortunate, but did warn him that my automated assistant was a prototype. Very delicate. Shouldn't hit delicate equipment like that while the case was open. Mister Coffee is perfectly safe now."
"Not that incident, Doctor Banner. Now that you mention it though, you will keep that contraption inactive or absent from my presence. I was referring to your former project lead's early... retirement, after falling behind schedule. And the terrible incident that occurred thereafter."
"Oh. Yes. I forgot. Director Hunnicutt. Yes... he... he died," Banner said, softly, black fear rising in him, even as the holographic readout tugged at his attention.
Yes. Hunnicutt... he'd died. In the lab. After hours. In the vacuum chamber. Where the safeties had mysteriously failed. Safeties tended to fail a lot right after a project lead received a bad performance review. Sometimes they failed after a group of large men stuffed the screaming man into a vacuum chamber while Tommy Banner hid under a desk, shaking, his eyes clenched shut and... and...
The ferret's focus abruptly shifted, the horrible memory sinking down into the soup of his subconscious with barely a "gloop."
"To clarify," Morgrimm continued jolting the ferret back to attention, "just to be sure we're on the same page, my predecessor suffered from an incident directly related to falling too far behind schedule, requiring that someone with far more importance in this company, much higher in the echelons of power, myself, take over this project. I have a lot more leeway in who is hired, fired, or retired than Hunnicutt did. Do I still have your attention, Doctor Banner?"
The ferret nodded, forcing his eyes to focus on the imposing figure before him.
Morgrimm continued, "I do not accept delays, and if this project is delayed, I cannot guarantee your safety... I'm sorry Doctor... I mean the safety of your position within this corporation. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes director Hunni... Morgrimm. I'm terribly sorry, director. What was it you wanted?"
"I want the decanting to happen immediately. Unlike my predecessor, I pay attention to the parameters of the projects under my direction. It has to be tonight. It should have been last night. The neural development..."
The ferret's expression cleared, "Neural development will be fine. Got forced growth down pat. Full adult physical development. Complete, healthy neurological development."
"We don't want full neurological development, Doctor Banner, as you have been repeatedly instructed. We want as close to a blank slate as possible, with a fully-formed hindbrain. We're going with the implants."
"No need for that, director. Used RNA and direct stimulus techniques to craft all the neural paths. There's no need for all that primitive stuff. Stone age. Life runs better than machines. Go with life. Life."
"We're going with the implants. We don't need, or want, a personality in this unit. The implants will take the place of any higher brain functions. This is a project, not a person."
"But there's no need. Already done all the encoding. He'll have a persona, a perfectly developed mind, and have all the capabilities you wanted and more. The implants won't do half the job. This will be proof of concept, too. It'll mean more patents!"
"Then I suggest you take your notes, and perhaps you can proof your concept on another project. I'm ordering you to decant."
"But you can't, it'll destroy..."
"It will destroy something you weren't supposed to create to begin with. Something you've clearly been wasting company resources on, against orders. Again."
"But this is much better work. Put my own time in on it. You know work better on my own time. You don't need..."
"Dr. Banner. Perhaps you miss the subtleties. I'm less interested in whether the concept you are working on privately... with company materials, of course, is better in your estimation. I'm interested in whether you can be an employee who does as he is told. It has been said there is no 'I' in team. If you cannot follow the directives you are given, you will find that there is no 'you' in team either. I trust that you will remember the retirement plan offered to your unique position in this company?"
Doctor Banner wasn't sure how he'd found his way into a blacklab position, one of the secretive, cutting edge labs, that developed mostly for military applications. He really wasn't sure. It was all a blur. All he remembered was that he'd had no choice.
He remembered what retirement meant though. Gencorp didn't retire it's research geniuses. It eliminated them when their usefulness was at an end, so that they didn't find their way into the hands of a competitor. And the manner of their elimination sometimes made it's way into the "orientation holos" shown to the successor of the "retired" employee.
Dr. Tommy Banner realized that he'd lost some time. He must have. He didn't remember laying down on the floor or entering the fetal position.
"I'm guessing by your reaction that your recollections are good enough in this matter, Dr. Banner," said the human... what was his name? Morgrimm?
"Compose yourself. Decanting will occur at 1900 sharp. It would be best that I did not have to instruct one of your assistants to carry out the procedure. You will find yourself there, I trust? If someone else has to do it, I shall assume you have chosen to accept your retirement benefits."
The black-clad director strode from the room and a chill seemed to leave the air. Unlikely, Banner thought. A room should be colder when a living sentient leaves it, not warmer. The output of body heat should...
His mind was wandering again. Even while his fingers trembled in fear, his mind still wandered.
The world became clear for a moment. It did that at times. He knew they'd hurt him when they brought him on board the project. He wondered how much of his mind he'd lost, how much he'd have been able to accomplish if they hadn't... hadn't... what had they done to him? When he tried to think about it, the blackness welled up inside, threatening to drop him to the floor shaking, fainting. He pushed the thoughts aside.
1900, sharp. He didn't have much time. There might be time to save his project.
But he wasn't saving just a project, a proof of concept. In his heart, he knew he was saving a person. An identity. A person he'd created. Cell-by-cell, almost thought by thought. He had to finish the feed, quickly, and hope that his creation wouldn't suffer from elevated brain temperature as neurotransmitters ordered millions of brain cells to form billions of connections a thousand times faster than they should.
Then he'd have to circumvent the implant process, and hide what he had done, at least temporarily. They'd never know until it was too late. They'd have their super soldier, but he would have his... proof of concept. No. He'd have his creation. A person. Someone perfect and strong and...
Utterly unlike him. Not broken. Not mad. Not working for evil men out of fear of his own extinction. Not working for evil men so that he could take advantage of their toys, their equipment , their resources. Had he chosen to work here, after all? Had he been forced?
They just had to see it was possible though. That what he'd come up with was better, that it worked. The science wasn't just his skill, it was a cruel muse. Deep inside, Dr. Tommy Banner knew that if something he thought of could be done, he had to do it, or the fire in his brain would consume him. If he could solve something, create something, prove something, he had no choice.
But whether the fools with their evil, grasping technocorp saw the worth of his creation, or not, Tommy Banner knew that he had to see for himself. Had to see if, with his fears and his damaged mind and his weakness, if he could create something - something beautiful - that worked.
But they wouldn't see, he realized. He knew it. His creation wouldn't be a robot, a blank biological body controlled by computerized implants that took over for a nonexistent forebrain. It would be a thinking, cognizant, creature - an individual.
They'd destroy it. They'd drop him into an incinerator, make him watch as they killed it, then they'd toss Tommy Banner into a vacuum chamber, or into a maxi-centrifuge, or a trash compactor, and turn it on, and pretend it was an accident. Banner could almost live with that... but when he thought of the thing... the creature... no the person he'd created, defenseless, confused, slain even as it was born...
Banner realized he was on the floor again, hands clutching his head.
He realized he'd lost some time again. Also... his mechanical assistant, "Mr. Coffee" was noticeably absent. It shouldn't have gone off on it's own without his instructions, and if someone had taken it, there'd be visible signs of a struggle. Dammit. He must have blanked again. He must have sent it on some errand. Unless it was another glitch. He'd have to work on that. The glitches were sometimes amusing, before he'd given Mr. Coffee the new power source. He hoped that, wherever it was, nobody asked it for a cappuccino. He seemed to recall having coded "cappuccino" as an attack response. Of course, now that he thought about it, Mr. Coffee had adequate voiceprint recognition. It shouldn't go into attack mode unless he said cappuccino.
His mind was wandering again. And his paws were still shaking. Dammit.
He fumbled in his old, white labcoat, and found the ampoule. Pressing it to the dark fur of his neck, he hit the release. There was a slight hiss as the Moradin passed into his carotid artery, and the trembling in his paws vanished. His mind slowed to something approaching normal. Brilliant, but normal.
Picking himself up to his full height - a full height of barely one meter - Dr. Tommy Banner headed off to the tank room. He really wanted a cup of coffee, but the fool machine was gone on some errand, or following some glitch in its programming. He hoped it didn't create any disturbances. There wasn't time for them. But if it did, he hoped that it did something fatal to someone who deserved it.
The tank room was quiet. It was rare that anyone had any reason to enter it physically. Nearly anything could be accomplished by remote.
Someone had stuck a label on the outside of the tank.
Garm 000
Prototypes generally were assigned a unit number of zero. This was three zeroes. But then, it was the third official "unit zero" on this project. One had been flushed and incinerated when it was just a small bundle of cells, due to a security breach. Tommy himself had arranged a malfunction to destroy the second, so that he could insert his own protocols into the process.
Garm was the name of a mythical wolf-creature. Some sort of terrible beast that primitive humans had dreaded. Now it was the code name for this project.
The Garm project aimed to create a super-soldier. One with an appearance similar enough to an anthroid species to be recognizable, yet based on extinct precursor genes, so that people could pretend they weren't people.
Of course, Garm wouldn't properly even be people were it not for the intervention of an ferret-anthro genius named Dr. Tommy Banner.
Anyone could make a monster, Banner thought. They could make a robotic servant of destruction if they just wanted something scary that killed people. But how many people could create a person? Not just any person, a kind of person that didn't exist before. An anthroid, but one based off of a lost species.
A dire wolf, to be exact.
He dropped the holochip with the necessary data into a port on the side of the tank. It would take a few minutes to start the sequence.
He leaned against the side, looking over what he'd made.
A dark-furred shape was suspended in the nutritive gel, muscular features limned by greenish tank light. He... for Garm Triple Zero was definitely a he, hung upside-down in the tank, the better to force blood to the rapidly-developing brain. Thick, serpentine magsnake cables held the powerful-looking figure in place, supporting his spine, anchoring his wrists and ankles. A heavy collar around his neck provided semipermanent ports for nanomachines, computer-neural inputs to his spine. A broad mask covered most of the long muzzle, a heavy feeding tube snaking through the front, to pass unseen down the figure's throat. Small tubes and injectors, injector ports, sensor leads, and numerous other devices punctured the fur-covered skin all over.
A heavy tube protruded from the anus. The digestive tract was force-fed a high-protein paste, since the body had reached physical adolescence, and wastes had to be removed. From the bulging, fur-covered sheath at his groin, a tube protruded as well. Banner's eyes drifted up to the heavy orbs hanging in the furry scrotum, across the powerful musculature of the legs, belly, and chest.
Banner wished he could see the face behind the mask, but he knew what those features looked like. Knew them by heart. He'd crafted them himself from the genetic background up, with an artistry that would have surprised even his closest assistants.
Oh yes... his creation would be everything Tommy Banner was not. He was huge, nearly seven feet tall, broadly muscular, heavy-boned. His mind had been built to include the subtle, barely-understood patterns that would result in courage, confidence, the hindbrain wired so that natural caution would not come at the cost of paralyzing fears. Sculpted muscles, under their thick coat of fur were laced with bioweaves that would leave them stronger, faster, and more efficient than even the most primitive reptile, while the advanced, carefully-wrought tracery of genengineered nerves would give The ferret genius' creation grace and reflexes in complete contrast to Banner's own shaking hands.
Behind closed lids, shut as if in sleep, eyes that would be able to see in dim starlight, or via patterns of heat shifted rapidly, as if dreaming. And in a sense, Garm was dreaming. The inputs under the collar and the base of his spine, in combination with a powerful soup of genengineered RNA, were teaching his brain to weave the complex patterns related to skill, memory, language, intuition, knowledge.
Garm's body was barely three weeks old. But when he awoke, he'd be able to speak, to understand. He'd know how to fight, drive a vehicle, pilot a ship. He'd know three languages and the concepts that made language meaningful. He'd have more education than most trained soldiers could expect to have after twenty-five years of growing to adulthood.
He'd also have a well-developed personality, crafted not to Gencorp's desires, but to Banner's.
The ferret's tiny hands danced through a holocontrol, snipping, almost as if by instinct, long chromasets of RNA code and nanofab instructor. When he was done, Garm would know a few things not planned by Genecorp.
He'd know to recognize and trust a small, brilliant ferret named Doctor Tommy Banner.
And he wouldn't be wired to follow orders. He'd be born knowing he was in danger. Grimacing, Banner cursed himself for bringing a new life into the world knowing, in the instant it was born, that it was surrounded by enemies.
He also would know the layout of the complex they were in, the entire architectural plan, he'd have an internal map of the city, flight tables for air and space transports.
And a lot of stolen access codes for doors and seals all through Genecorp's research fortress.
Banner felt his mind beginning to lose focus, tiny details of his work seeming to pull in his attention, demanding that he perfect each little bit. The Moradin was wearing off, but he had so much to do, and so little time. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was much later than he'd planned. He must have lost time somewhere.
This was terrible. The amount of new information that had to be forced through, in so little time. This was well beyond the bounds of safety, especially this late in development. There was a danger of seratonin shock, brain fever, neurotoxicity. The little ferret tried desperately, on the fly, to adjust the machine's instructions as best he could, to minimize any damage.
It was so close to time, 1857. There wasn't enough time. Would this rushing destroy what he tried to save?
- Banner watched, helpless, as instructions he set in motion caused machines, bioware, RNA enscribers, to pour into his naked, helpless, unborn creation. Ready or not, decanting would occur at 1900. Banner didn't have time to break the security on that order and still make his last-minute changes.
A glint appeared at the corner of his vision. Turning his head, startled, the little ferret breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar, gleaming sphere that was Mr. Coffee's outer casing. The device hovered soundlessly on it's gravitics, a golden globe, two feet in diameter, marked only by the two dots and curved line of a smiley face. Where had the thing been? He must have told it to do something, unless it was malfunctioning again.
It floated near, bobbing up and down as if excited. A tinny, metallic voice emanated from it.
"Doctor Tommy! I have completed instructions, and served hot refreshments to indicated guests, recipe omega-cappuccino. Would you like a cup of coffee? You look like you could use a pick-me-up!"
Omega-cappuccino? What the hell was it talking about?
Oh. Oh my. Banner remembered. He remembered what "omega-cappuccino" meant. He'd told the thing to deploy its weapons. On who? Or what? He saw now, there was a smear of carbon marring the gleaming surface, a scorch.
"Mr. Coffee... please tell me what my instructions were, that you have just finished carrying out."
It told him. As it finished, alarms began to go off elsewhere in the complex.
It was 1886. There was a lot of noise nearby. Doctor Banner's head began to swim. He'd told it to do what? Why had he done that? They'd kill him!
"Mr. Caw... caw... coffee. Please... e... e... enter autodefense, and protective mode, full safety override. No courtesy cups, omega-cappuccino for any rude patrons. Now, please."
"Certainly, Doctor. Your safety shall be my primary concern," the thing said. It's surface seemed to ripple slightly as dozens of feathery gravitic emitters slid from nearly invisible seams in its surface.
"Mr. Coffee. Amend. Also protective mode for the... being in that tank, even after it leaves the tank, fluid priority."
"Certainly Doctor. I shall see to your guest's safety as well."
The door slid open, and the sounds in the hallway were suddenly loud and blaring. Then they weren't in the hall. There were people in the room with him, shouting, waving things around.
"Doctor Banner!" shouted a familiar voice over a loudspeaker. Who was that? Morgrimm? Hunnicutt? No... Morgrimm.
"Yes. Umm... decanting proceeding as ordered," said Banner, his voice quivering.
- The tubes and probes had been withdrawing from the subject, silently and rapidly. The fluid in the tank was draining, the huge figure inside sinking to the floor of the cylinder as the magsnakes relaxed their grip.
"You will immediately deactivate that floating abomination, or security will destroy it," came the voice over the loudspeaker.
Banner looked around. Oh. So that's who all these people were. They seemed to be holding guns. They looked like soldiers.
"Mr. Coffee. Dormant," said Banner.
"Acknowledged," said Mr. Coffee in its tinny, cheerful voice.
The security detail visibly relaxed as the shining sphere settled to the floor, humming quietly to itself.
"MacBiers. Hold Doctor Banner for interrogation. Doctor Banner, I see you've made a lot of sudden and cloaked accesses to the computer. It doesn't look like you were doing what you were asked to. I'll be down shortly to find out exactly why."
There was a sharp pain under Banner's armpit, as a massive gloved hand grabbed him under the arm, hoisting the little ferret half off his feet. A white-coated human, youngish, but with thinning hair, entered the chamber, stepping around the soldiers. Banner didn't recognize him.
"Mr. Sullworth. Check that thing in the tank. If you register any forebrain activity, I want you to terminate with potassium cyanide immediately. Do not, I repeat, do not allow it to decant!"
The white-coated figure in it's slick, modern vinyl labwear hustled past Banner, without even glancing in his direction.
In a high, frightened, quavering voice, Doctor Tommy Banner said, clearly and distinctly, "I think that harming the person in the tank with cyanide would be rude. Very rude thing for any patron to do."
Nothing happened. The soldiers glanced at the little ferret, but soon lost interest. Sullworth didn't even look up - he was busy accessing the holocontrols on the tank. Decanting procedure was still continuing. Garm lay on the bottom of the tank, fur matted and glistening with the remnants of the nutritive gel.
"We have massive forebrain activity," said Sullworth.
"Kill it," said Morgrimm's voice over the intercom.
"Commencing administration of cyanide," said Sullworth.
And then, suddenly, Sullworth's hand dropped neatly off at the wrist. He looked at it, startled, and then began to scream as blood began to pour from the stump. The security team began looking around, confused.
"Yanking up my arm like that is v.. vv... very ru... rude t... too," stammered Doctor Banner, with increasing conviction in his voice.
And then, with a strange snapping sound, MacBiers' left arm twisted gruesomely, nearly severed through the bicep, blood gushing almost instantly from the terrible wound.
Mr. Coffee rose from the ground, smoothly, it's gravitics in full projection once more.
"Kill it! Shoot it!" shouted MacBiers in pure panic, even as Banner scooted away from him, his white lab coat spattered with gore.
Some of them did, but many of the shots were going wild. Something struck the side of the huge tank, and glass collapsed like a waterfall around Tommy, who had ducked behind it. Sparks shot off Mr. Coffee's metallic surface, as shots knocked it around through the air, but a moment later, one of the security team dropped screaming, as both arms dropped neatly off below the elbow, severed by a focused gravitic blast.
Three of them were left standing, and one had the presence of mind to fire a percussion round. The rippling pulse blasted through the air, sending Mr. Coffee sailing through the side of a large, cabinet sized magnetic resonance imager. There were blinding sparks of plasma as the power supply shorted into Mr. Coffee's spherical body.
Over the groaning and crying of the fallen guards, Morgrimm's voice shouted, furious through the room speakers, "Kill that little furry son of a bitch right now! Do you hear me? Right this second!"
Banner looked up as three uniformed guards checked their weapons and swiveled their guns toward his small, unprotected body. Mr. Coffee bounced and jittered in the bowels of the imaging machine, singing "Daiiiisyyy... daiiisyyy..." Banner had coded that sequence as an indicator of massive system failure. It didn't seem as funny now.
Something moved at the corner of Banner's vision, even as he waited for death to shred its way through his body, his brain. The guards were looking up now, not at banner, but at something large that cast a shadow over the cringing ferret.
Tommy lost time again. He always knew when he'd lost time, because something would be different in his surroundings, and he wouldn't know why. He might find himself in a different room, or on the floor, or wondering why there was a cup of coffee spilled into the lap of a screaming co-worker.
This time, the thing that was different was that the room didn't have any guards standing up in it any more. Just some crumpled heaps in uniforms. And instead of being upside-down, sleeping, inside a tank, there was Garm triple-zero standing, swaying, looking confused... right-side up, glistening with drying nutrigel, spattered with blood.
Alarms were blaring. The comm-screen and speaker were smoking.
Mr. Coffee was floating around in a small circle, fire suppressant foam dripping from it's smooth surface. It was saying "I am waking up from a reboot. What a lovely new day. Perhaps today, I shall see a squirrel. I do hope so. Doctor Banner likes squirrels. But first, I must check my supplies..."
It rambled on, drifting in a circle, cycling through it's reboot process.
Banner felt a pain in his neck, and realized that he'd injected himself with another ampoule of Moradin. His head cleared.
The massive lupine figure raised it's hands before it's face and whined. Garm looked about, confused, swiping at the slime all over his body. Green-gold eyes finally lit on Banner, bewilderment writ large on his features.
The voice croaked, unfamiliar to its owner, saying "I woke up. I woke up, and they were here, and I had to fight. What's happening?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Tommy said, voice breaking. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way. Do you know who I am?"
"I... I think so. You're Doctor Tommy Banner. I don't know why I know you, but that's your name, right?"
Garm's voice was deep and slow. It was a little raspy, but full of rich undertones.
"Yes. I'm Doctor Banner. I'm... a... friend," said Tommy.
"I... I don't know how I got here. I don't know what's going on," said Garm, "I woke up, and there were these men, and I had to fight them."
"I know. I know. We have to get out of here, do you understand? There's lots more of them, and there's security systems all over, and we have to leave, now. They'll kill both of us."
Garm looked around, grabbed a firearm from one of the fallen guards. Tommy noticed that most of them were still breathing. Garm ripped the belt off the man, taking with it a comm-unit, a smaller sidearm, and a few other devices Tommy didn't recognize.
"Do you know... how to get out of here?" asked Tommy.
"Yeah. 'Course. I'll carry you," said Garm. He picked up the little ferret and slung him over his shoulder. Banner winced as the goop covering Garm's body soaked and squelched into his labcoat, his fur. But almost immediately, he was comforted by the feel of powerful muscles flowing like continents under the mobile skin, as the big genengineered creature began loping down corridors.
"Doc? There's a funny thing following us. I don't know what it is," said the huge wolf.
Mr. Coffee was following along behind them, slightly erratically. It's shining surface was scored and scorched, but it seemed at least partly functional. The black line of the smiley face had turned into a slightly wavy line, and the black eye dots seemed to be changing in size, but it was moving.
"Maybe today is not a good day for looking at squirrels," it said, "I think maybe I don't feel good. Maybe Doctor Banner will give me a checkup! Then I will be right as rain!"
"It's... it's... Mr. Coffee."
"Is he your friend?" asked Garm, firing suddenly down a corridor. Shouts of alarm and panic came from the other end.
"Uh... yes. He's... I built him. He's... it's okay."
"I didn't shoot those people just now. I just shot near them. I wanted to make them go another way, but I didn't want to kill them," said Garm.
There was something odd about his speech. Slow, somehow. Tommy hoped nothing was wrong with him. This wasn't the way he was supposed to wake up. Heaven knew whether something had gone wrong with all the last-second changes to what he was supposed to know.
"Tommy, I feel like... like... I should know how to get out of here, but I keep getting confused. Do, you know where West Elevator Shaft Sublevel Access Only is?"
"It's... ri... no left! Left here," Tommy said.
"Okay. I know where I'm going, now," said Garm.
They reached a T-Junction, with an elevator on the far wall. Garm looked upward, quizzically for a moment, then settled Tommy down on the floor.
"Stand over there for a minute. There's people in the elevator. They've got guns. I think they might want to fight."
Tommy scrambled away on his butt, as the elevator door opened. Garm immediately leaped inside, and there were a few seconds of shouting, and a single air-burning screech from a plasma blaster, and a lot of thumping, growling and banging. A moment later, three men were tossed out of the elevator, to slump groaning on the ground.
Garm came staggering out, smelling of burnt fur, picked up Tommy, and dived into the elevator. The doors closed as Mr. Coffee breezed in. Garm rapidly punched something into the keypad next to the door, and they began accelerating upwards. Tommy saw that the smell of burning fur was coming from a raw, scorched patch on the huge wolf anthroid's flank.
"Garm, you're hurt," said Banner.
"Shh. I'm counting," said Garm. With that, he banged the control panel. The elevator lurched to a stop. Garm ripped out the whole panel, causing the lights in the chamber to flicker, and the emergency braking system activated, locking the elevator in place. Garm drew back a fist and smashed it into the side of the wall hard enough to buckle up a panel. Grabbing the edges, he yanked, and the whole panel tore loose. Tossing it aside, he bashed out the outer panel. There, in the shaft, was a small maintenance tunnel opening. Garm pushed Tommy in, and crawled in after him.
Tommy lost time again. He wasn't sure how much, because his watch was broken.
But he was looking at the sky. It was grey, and kind of cold out. But it was actually sky. Banner wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd seen the sky. He was surrounded by large broken chunks of plascrete, at the edge of a small urban cave. A couple of miles in front of him, he could see the edge of Gen City, beyond a wasteland of scrub brush and broken plascrete, and demolished former sprawl.
He turned around, and lying on his side, a bit dusty and rumpled, with a plasma burn marring his flank, but otherwise glorious, lay Garm. The big wolf was propped up on one arm, looking concerned at Tommy. The ferret thought he looked, despite everything, something like a young god.
Mr. Coffee was floating a few inches above the ground, humming quietly in sleep mode.
"Are you all right Doc?"
"I... I think so," the ferret found himself saying.
"You stopped moving. You weren't looking at anything for a while. I carried you until you woke up, but you still didn't say anything. Is it because you were scared?"
"Yes... Yes... I was very scared."
"I found a place to hide. There's a place with lots of clean water back under all these big blocks. I washed off that stuff that was on me. I also got some food from that place we were in."
"Oh... Garm... we'll have to go. We have to get far from here, off this planet. Do you understand?"
"Garm?" The big creature said, drawing himself smoothly to his haunches.
"That's... that's you. I'm Tommy, and you're Garm," said Banner. There was something wrong with Garm's speech patterns, and he ought to know his own name. Unless... well... really... now that he thought about it, with all the things they'd dumped into his brain, had they given him a name?"
"I know you're Tommy. Doctor Tommy Banner. I remember that you're a friend. But I don't know who I am. I don't know why I know you, or how I got back in that place. I just... I just..."
The big creature's shoulders were slumped. His ears were back. His broad brows were crinkled up in a look so lost and confused that Tommy almost flinched away from him. The big dire wolf sat there in front of Tommy Banner and whined.
"I don't understand. I felt like I was asleep. I felt like I was having a dream, but I don't know what it was. Then I was awake, and I had to fight, and people were trying to hurt us. I don't know what's going on."
"Don't worry, Garm. I'll... you got us somewhere safe. And now after it get dark, I'll get us somewhere safer. We'll look out for each other. Okay?"
The big wolf let out a long sigh.
"Okay, Tommy," he said, grinning a canine grin.
"Let's rest. I'll let Mr. Coffee watch out for... I'll tell him to watch," said the ferret. His head felt remarkably clear, but he knew that could end at any moment.
"And after we rest, we'll have to get you some clothes, some fake ID, and we'll have to get off this planet," he continued, still looking at the sky.
"Okay, Tommy," Said Garm, "Meantime, you should come in under the big plascrete rubble pieces. They'll make it hard for anyone to see us. You shouldn't stand out there like that."
He pulled the ferret closer, under the overhang, into the shadows. The little Doctor sagged against the big, deep, furred chest.
"Tommy, you said you made Mr. Coffee," the big wolf asked, after a moment.
"Yes," said Banner, "I get... confused sometimes. And I wanted something to help me remember things, and protect me, and help me work."
"Did you make me?"
Tommy thought about it for a moment, frozen. Now that he was sure Garm shouldn't know. What should he tell him?
After a moment, he said, very carefully, "Yes Garm. I made you. Those people you had to fight, that we ran away from, they made me create you. But I didn't like the way they wanted to do it, they wanted to make it so that you couldn't think, or feel or be a person. They wanted your brain... empty... so that machines would make your body move, instead of a mind, instead of you. So... I made you different than they wanted, and they found out, and they were going to kill you, so I had to do something."
"That's why, as soon as I woke up, I had to fight," said Garm. It wasn't framed as a question.
"Yes. I'm sorry," said Tommy quietly.
"It's okay. I wouldn't have woke up at all, if you hadn't done that, right?"
"No. You wouldn't have."
Tommy was surprised to find the huge head pressed against his tiny, narrow chest, nuzzling him. He reached up with one arm, and stroked his fingers through the mane of charcoal-grey fur on the back of Garm's neck. He looked down over his creation, at the near black of his back and flanks, fading to a dark ashy color on his belly, groin, and inner thighs.
"Are you okay, Garm? You're burnt. Did you get shot?" he asked.
"It hurts a little," said Garm, rolling into his back, his large lupine head in Banner's diminutive lap, "One of those human guys shot a plasma pistol in the elevator. It burned me when it went by. I also have all these other funny little spots that hurt, in my skin. There were little blood spots when I washed in the underground river."
The big wolf pointed at a few spots across his body.
"Those are from where the machines were hooked up to you. The ones that we used to... grow you in. They should... they should heal very soon. We made you so that you'd heal very quickly."
"Okay Doc. Thanks," said Garm, shutting his eyes, and settling his head down in Tommy's lap. Just like that, he was asleep.
Tommy realized a couple of things at that moment. He'd been talking to Garm almost like the big lupine was a child, or retarded. He'd also been using words like "I" and "me" a lot... something he usually avoided doing, since working at Genecorp. His head felt strangely clear.
He hoped it lasted. Garm wasn't even, strictly speaking, a day old. And there was no telling what kind of damage or idiosyncrasies might have resulted from the tampered-with learning and encoding. He might not be able to fit in with society well enough, or understand how things worked well enough to get them off planet - especially if he was suffering from temporary or permanent brain-damage.
Hell, Tommy realized... he wasn't even sure, now that he thought about it, what he'd put into Garm's brain in the first place. Not everything.
Please Gods, he thought, please let me hold it together enough, just enough, to get us off planet.
He would. He had to. Not for his own sake. He was broken and crazed, and half the time didn't know where he was. And he was so tired of being frightened. But he'd made Garm, and he had to make sure that the big wolf could survive. He owed it to him. He was responsible for him.
They would make it. Tomorrow, Tommy would use whatever of the Moradin he had left, as much as he had to, even if he had to purchase more. He'd arrange clothes, disguises. They'd lie low. Tommy would buy or make forged ID's and identities to go with them. They'd find a crappy cheap ship, and get off this planet. He already had some secret bank accounts that he was short Genecorps didn't know about. So there was a little money. It would work. It had to.
Next to him, head laid in his lap, a naked, seven foot tall, genetically-engineered, physically enhanced, physically beautiful super-soldier slept like a baby.
Yeah. Tommy knew he could hold it together. Maybe he couldn't hold it together for more than a few seconds before was because he didn't have anything to live for, or care about, except his work.
But now he did.
Besides. That job sucked anyway.