Doctor Karl Salum had given himself the appearance of a forty-year old, was about five feet tall, and weighed no more than seven stone. He knew he had very bad personal hygiene, but he was unparalleled amongst Terrans in the field of genetics and mutation, and that was all he cared about.
In the corner of his laboratory sat a large tray of soil, in which corn stalks yielded cobs of corn over a metre long. They had taken less than a week to grow. Next to it, a roulcon, a small mammal indigenous to Horizon -3, continued to probe and test and gauge his own cage for any weakness, any promise of freedom. Salum had impregnated the walrus-like creature with a human foetus, and as the weeks passed the creature seemed to become more and more aware of the violation that had occurred.
On a table next to the roulcon was a small computer with cables connected to a large cylinder of 'smart blood' - the plasmid fluid he'd computer programmed to be able to locate and destroy certain cell structures in blood. Salum’s solution to the problems of H.I.V. had been RNA based, but in trying to create an Immuno Proficiency System he had thus far tried and failed to electronically manipulate cells at the molecular level. But he would keep experimenting....
On the other side of the table was an electrified cage containing his first attempt at breeding a chameloid. It had failed, but the experiment had given him a deeper insight into the memory of DNA. Every few minutes the organism would transform into an animal or parts of an animal that he had never seen before on Earth or on Horizon -3 . At the start of the experiment he had been careful to surgically remove the creature's ability to vocalise its anguish, but occasionally the organism would develop a larynx, or some other way of making its agony known, which he found fascinating. For now, the three-foot slug looked desperately with almost human eyes at a large, soundproofed transparisteel door set into the wall. Perhaps the chameloid somehow knew that on the other side of the door lay its only end; the dungeon, where he discarded all his failed experiments, dead or alive. Occasionally, when the noise emanating from the dungeon became too disturbing, he would have to pump the dungeon full of hydrochloric acid, flush it out, and then start dumping again.
Next to the door was a barrow full of all manner of seedless fruit - melons, cherries, mangoes, nectarines, oranges. Salum picked up a seedless apple the size of his outstretched palm and offered it to his latest customer/subject. Boris gladly accepted and continued his story.
“You see, Mr Salum-”
“Doctor Salum. That's the whole point of studying medicine, Boris. To allow one’s superior intellect to be formally recognised.” Salum eyed Boris' eight-foot, four-hundred-pound frame. “Clearly, my augmentation process has not worn off. Did you require further enhancement?”
“No Sir,” Boris replied. “Well, I don't know. See, I've got a fight coming up-”
“The World Circuit?” Salum enquired.
“Yeah, the World Circuit. Only I managed to find out who I was fighting next, and I'm way out of her league. She's beaten guys twice as strong and twice as fast as me.”
“And twice as dumb?”
“Uh?”
“Never mind. Give me names of people she's beaten.” Salum scuttled over to his computer and opened a search engine. Boris paused. “Super SAM , The Rhino, Cobra, Taurus, Cyclone, Gluemaster, Doctor Dude.........and I think a couple of cyborgs too. I don't think she's been beaten yet..............Mr Salum?”
Salum smiled to himself. The majority of fighters on the World Circuit had received some kind of enhancement from him or his peers, so there was much interest from the scientific community in the outcome of these fights. Salum had the fights recorded, and sent to him for later analysis.
The screen flashed into action, splitting to show recordings of six World Circuit fights. Each fight showed a Japanese woman in her early twenties severely beating the mutant, cyborg or augment in question.
“That's the girl?” Salum scratched the dandruff out of his beard.
“Yeah, that's her. Calls herself Black Knight. I sure hope you've got something that can take her out.”
“I sure hope you can afford -- did you say ‘Black Knight’?”
“Yeah. That's what she calls herself.”
Salum froze. “Display World Circuit fights, chronological order,” he said to his computer. Long minutes passed as they absorbed the glow of the computer screen in silence. Finally, a wry smile crossed Salum's lips and the silence was broken.
“Contrary to my initial sentiments, Boris, it would appear that you are not as stupid as you look. Actually, you couldn't be, could you?”
“Huh?”
“Look at these fights, Boris. The fifth fight was less than a week ago. In it she sustained a contusion under her right eye, a deep gash under her left, and what appears to be a dislocated knee.”
“How does that help me beat her?”
“It doesn't. See on the floor over there, next to the cage?”
“What cage?”
“Over there, with the chameloid in it.”
“All I see is a cat...........sort of......”
“Trust me, it's a chameloid. Anyway, don't touch the cage, pass the broom on the floor next to it, and pass me a scalp- a knife.”
Boris was obviously confused, but managed to return with a long oak broom, and a scalpel, and handed them both to Salum, who promptly removed the broom head, and began carving notches into the broomstick.
“Look at the last fight, Boris,” said Salum as he sculpted. “It was yesterday. At the start of the fight she taunts the Rhino by fighting him blindfolded, but when she is later made to pay for her impudence, and the Rhino tries to hang her with her own neck scarf we see........” He paused the picture.
“..........................That she's got........ no bruises on her face?” Boris said incredulously.
“Exactly” said Salum triumphantly. “She obviously has some sort of accelerated healing mechanism.”
“I don't understand-”
“Surprise surprise.” muttered Salum. “Listen, just go over there and pass me - oh, forget it, I'll do it myself.”
Salum typed into his terminal. In the corner of the room, a squat, cylindrical droid beeped into action, wheeling itself around Salum's laboratory in search of components to construct whatever Salum was designing on his computer. Salum left the droid to its work, and continued carving into the broomstick. “Boris, how would you like to make a million Merits on your next fight on the World Circuit, and help solve the problem of Super Haemo Immuno Proficiency?” He looked at Boris sardonically.
“Heemo....Ameeno....What?”
Salum had finished sculpting and attached a contact microphone to each end of the broomstick even as the droid added the finishing touches to an amplifier and a restraining collar. “Look Boris, I'm not asking you to do anything difficult, just win the fight and bring the girl to me. Here, I'll even give you the stake money.” He rummaged around in his overalls and produced a 20,000 Merit Card.
Boris’ eyes brightened as he reached for the Merit Card. But then his brow creased again. “Mr Salum, I still don't know how to beat her.”
Salum threw the broomstick. “Use this. And that's Doctor Salum.”
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