Sunrise Alley

by Catherine Asaro

"Did you find patterns?" she asked.

  "One." He rolled onto his back. In the darkness she knew only because she heard him move and the sleeve of his uniform caught on her hand. As he loosened the cloth, he gave her fingers a quick squeeze, as he had sometimes done when she was young. That one gesture told her how rattled he must have been; Thomas was normally even more restrained than her parents in showing affection to family or friends.

  "Dreymore supposedly received the message from General Chang's assistant," he said. "But it came on a signal modulated with certain anomalies. They match anomalies in signals we believe Charon uses."

  "Turner said something like that once." Then it hit her. "They suspected this ride we took in the helicopter might be a fake, but they let us take it anyway?"

  "It's possible. But we're covered."

  Sam resisted the impulse to say Apparently not enough. If Thomas was bluffing, trying to convince their captors they had backup, she didn't want to weaken the effect.

  "I think Alpha is an android," Sam said.

  "What about the man?"

  "I'm not sure. He's another mercenary." She paused. "I have the oddest feeling I've met him before, but I don't know where."

  "You know mercenaries?"

  "Well, no. I thought maybe it happened when I was working for the Air Force. Could he have been one of your people, gone rogue?"

  Thomas moved again, sitting up, she thought. "It's possible."

  Sam knew what he didn't say. If his team didn't pick them up, Charon's people would later. This hide-out could be well shrouded. "We need to find out more about this place."

  The crinkle of a mesh glove came from the darkness. "This damn thing isn't working at all."

  "I might be able to get it going."

  "It's pretty well fritzed, Sam. I don't think you can do anything."

  "You wouldn't be the first to say that." Smugly she added, "Nor the first to be wrong."

  His voice lightened. "Give it your all." He handed her the glove.

  Sam fooled with the fingers, manipulating the threads in them, trying new configurations. She had played with meshes as a kid just to see what they could do. She might be able to shift the operation of the glove to threads other than those Alpha had fried. It wouldn't be easy; just from touch, she could tell the glove was badly damaged. They wouldn't have let Thomas keep it otherwise. She doubted she could fix the wireless functions, but she might at least bring up the internals.

  As she worked, she said, "We could try climbing out."

  "Yes. I want to reconnoiter here first, though."

  Sam smiled. Thomas would call it "reconnoitering." She shifted the glove to one hand and helped him stand, though she wished he could rest longer. As he leaned on her, she said, "This is the second time I've been underground like this."

  "I'd wondered." He straightened up, holding her arm for support. "You're sure the EIs rather than Charon were running the one in Iowa?"

  "At first." She walked slowly with him, testing the ground with each step. "I can't be certain about later. Or it could be Charon was always an EI."

  "Then why didn't he know where to find the Alley?"

  Good question. "Maybe they kicked him out."

  "It's an odd thought." He sounded more like himself now. "A conglomerate of EIs banishing one of their own. So he finds himself warm bodies and wreaks havoc as a human being." He drew her to a stop. "Here's the wall."

  Sam ran her palms across unfinished stone, a contrast to the machined surfaces in Bart's facility. They walked along the wall, pacing out the room, which turned out to be a square about ten steps long on each wall. They found no doors, but neither did they find any trace of Alpha or Hud, so an exit had to exist. Sam climbed up the ladder, but a solid hatch blocked the top. Unlike Turner, she couldn't break into whatever system controlled it and override its codes. So she came back down, disheartened and quiet.

  Finally they sat together against one wall. And they waited.

  * * *

  "I'm thirsty," Sam said, sitting cross-legged, working on Thomas's glove.

  "Someone should come back eventually." Thomas spoke from across the room. His shoes scraped the floor as he paced back and forth.

  The palm screen on the glove suddenly lit up. "Hah! Got it."

  Thomas turned to her, his figure visible in the dim light from the screen. "Can you get an outside line?"

  "Doesn't look like it." Several holicons had lit up on the screen, seeming to float above it, but those for the wireless were dark and inactive. "Your time and calendar work. We've been down here for three hours."

  "If feels like three days."

  His strained tone made her glance up. It could have just been the bad light, but he looked pallid. "You should sit down. We don't know if the oxygen is replenished. The more you move, the faster you use it up." In truth, she doubted they would have any trouble with oxygen. If she told him she was concerned about his recovery, though, he would insist he was fine.

  Her ploy didn't fool him. "I'm sure the oxygen is sufficient." But he came over and sat next to her.

  She held up her gloved hand, letting the screen give some light. "Your people should have found us by now."

  "They will."

  "Do they know what Turner and I found in Iowa?"

  "Some do, yes."

  "So they should think to look underground."

  "Yes."

  Sam knew him well enough to know he was giving answers with far more confidence than he felt. "We should bang on the hatch again."

  "In a bit." He sounded tired. "I was wondering."

  "Yes?"

  "You didn't refuse to go in the Redbird."

  She bent over the glove again, seeing what else she could do with it. "It was fine." She hadn't had time to panic before they climbed aboard the helicopter. What unsettled her far more was that she had forgotten her fear of heights for three years. Why? She usually hid it well; Thomas and her mother were about the only people who knew. But she knew. Had known. And what about Turner? He just happened to be afraid of them, and he didn't know why? Maybe he didn't need a reason, but it was inconsistent; he had a history to explain his dislike of closed-in spaces.

  Sam remembered all too well now why edges terrified her. When she had been five years old, her best friend had fallen from a balcony and died the instant she hit the ground. From that moment on, Sam had been terrified of edges any more than a few feet above the ground. It wasn't something you just forgot.

  Working on his glove, she spoke in a casual tone. "Why should I refuse to go on a helicopter?"

  "I thought you were afraid of heights."

  "That was Turner. Not me." She studied his glove, playing with its menus. "Do you know what happened with the yacht Turner wrecked?"

  "We retrieved the pieces. He made it almost to your beach before it crashed against the rocks."

  "Ah." She brought up another menu, this one for his mail. "If I could just get an outside line on this thing."

  "Sam, look at me."

  She scanned the messages he had downloaded. "You've a lot of mail here."

  "Fine." He sounded exasperated. "We'll forget the heights."

  "You have mail from Giles Newcombe!"

  "He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"

  "You know he is." She looked up at him. "He's the first person I contacted about Turner."

  Thomas leaned his head against the wall. "You can read it if you want."

  She didn't know if she liked this new development. She opened the letter:

  Dear Thomas,

  It was odd. Sam said she had never heard of him. I was surprised. You would think she would recognize the name Charon.

  "Why are you and Giles talking about me?" she asked. "And why should I recognize that name?"

  "I contacted him after you told me about Turner."

  "You know Giles?" She hadn't expected that.

  "A bit. He's done some work with the NIA."

  "I didn't know that."

 
; "You didn't—"

  "Have a need to know. Yeah, I know. And no, I hadn't heard of Charon."

  His lips quirked. "I thought you knew everything."

  She laughed. "No fair, Thomas. You aren't allowed to turn my grouching back on me."

  "But it's so entertaining." When she glared at him, he chuckled, more himself now, stronger even than a few minutes ago. "Giles felt certain you would recognize the name Charon. In fact, he had expected you to be angry."

  "Did he tell you why angry?"

  "No. But he did say to tell you this: 'He can only take you across once.' "

  "Again?" She wiped her palms on the legs of her jumpsuit. Why did that phrase keep coming up in her life?

  "Do you know what he meant?" Thomas asked.

  "A reference to Charon, I think. He's the ferryman that takes dead people across a river into the underworld. I don't know why Giles would tell me, though."

  Thomas motioned around at their cell. "This Charon seems to have taken you and me into the underworld."

  Sam shuddered. "I hope not."

  * * *

  A hum came out of the dark—and light flooded the room. Sam had been lying down, dozing, but now she sat up, squeezing her eyes closed. She opened them almost immediately, protecting them with her hand so she could peer into the brightness.

  Alpha stood in a doorway across the room.

  "Hello," the android said. "I see you're feeling better, General."

  "What do you want?" Thomas asked, also using his hand to protect his eyes. He was standing a few feet from Sam.

  "We have a problem," Alpha said. "Your friends won't leave."

  He lowered his arm. "Good."

  Sam rose to her feet. "You can't keep us here forever."

  Alpha looked amused. "Why not?"

  "What good would it do?" Thomas asked. "Your employer had a reason for all this. He wants something from us."

  Alpha indicated Sam. "Her. And the android she stole."

  Sam lowered her arm. "Turner isn't an android. And I didn't steal him. He came of his own free will."

  "Free will," Alpha mused. "An odd concept."

  "To you maybe." Sam limped over to her on legs gone stiff from sleeping on a concrete floor. "Especially if Charon assumes you don't have it."

  "I don't." Alpha spoke as if she were commenting on the weather. "Nor do I want it."

  "He programmed your android matrix that way?"

  "Apparently." Alpha didn't bother to deny she was an android. "And for problem solving."

  "So you can act without commands from him."

  "That's right." Alpha looked bored. "Are you done with the questions?"

  "Hardly," Sam said.

  "Too bad. Because I am." Alpha strolled over to Thomas. "You and I need to talk."

  "Why should I talk to you?" Thomas asked.

  Alpha waved at Sam. "Because you don't want me to hurt her."

  Sam spoke fast, before Alpha came up with ideas that involved her experiencing pain. "You said it yourself—I'm the one Charon wants. Injure me and he'll be angry."

  "I didn't say I would injure you." Alpha looked her over. "You really are puny. It wouldn't be hard to make you scream without damaging you." She laughed. "You're a nerd, Doctor. A pretty one, but a weakling just the same."

  Sam gritted her teeth. "Go to hell."

  "How?" Alpha inquired. "I have no soul."

  Sam had no answer for that. She wanted Alpha to be responsible for her behavior, yet the android had no free will. Perhaps responsibility went to whoever created her. But what of those like Turner who no longer had a human brain, yet who operated with free will? Sam needed to believe in a God who held all self-aware beings responsible for their actions, human or construct.

  Thomas spoke to Alpha. "What is it you want from me?"

  She answered immediately. "Turner."

  He didn't look surprised. "You can't get him out of our custody, hmm?"

  "Sure we can," Alpha said. "You'll do it for us."

  "Threatening Sam won't make me do anything."

  "How about we see?"

  Sam swallowed. "How about we don't."

  Alpha stalked over to her. "Turner likes that pretty face of yours. How do you think he would feel if it had a few scars?"

  "Leave her alone," Thomas said.

  Alpha turned to him. "Get me Turner."

  "I can't order his release. You ought to know that."

  "You're a powerful man, General." Alpha studied him as if he were a prize she had won. "I'm sure you can get him out."

  "Why does Charon want him so badly?" Sam asked.

  Alpha smirked. "Let's say he loves Turner so much, he feels like he lost a part of himself."

  Sam shrugged. "Surely he stored copies of his mind in other places besides Turner."

  A muscle twitched in Alpha's cheek. It made Sam wonder. For Alpha, no advantage existed in showing unease. That she did anyway suggested the android had less control over her actions than Sam had assumed. Either that, or Sam's question had been unexpected enough to cause some glitch. Whatever the reason, Alpha didn't like their knowing Charon had stashed a copy of himself in Turner.

  "Charon exists anywhere he wishes," Alpha said.

  "Yeah, he parks and goes." Sam had other ideas. "I know why he's desperate. Turner is reshaping his copy of Charon's mind. He's changing it and the real Charon can't stand that loss of control. He didn't think Turner had it in him, did he? He never thought the unassuming bellboy could resist when someone as strong as Linden Polk couldn't fight him."

  Alpha's face tightened. "Shut up."

  "That certainly glitched your code," Sam said.

  Alpha considered her with a feral stare. "Great argument exists as to whether or not an android feels pleasure. I have a bulletin for you, Bryton. We do. It will cause me great pleasure to hear you scream."

  "You won't hurt me." Sam prayed she was right. She had years of experience with formas, but she could still make mistakes. "If you cause me pain, the memory will be in my brain, strong and recent. When Charon downloads my neural map, he gets that vividly unpleasant memory." She shrugged. "Besides, you would just simulate pleasure because you think it will provoke Thomas into doing what you want."

  "Maybe." Alpha glanced at Thomas, her gaze traveling up his body. Then she spoke to Sam. "He's an attractive piece, I'll grant you that. But he has little value to Charon. Maybe I should just go to work on him, hmmm?"

  "It wouldn't do any good," Thomas said. "I've nothing to tell you." He was composed and calm, but his jaw had tightened. "Sam has no authority to release Turner. No matter what you do to me, that won't change."

  Alpha went completely still. Her flawless skin didn't move. Then she said, "I will return." With that, she turned and strode away. Lights glittered on her jumpsuit. Sam lunged after her, but the door snapped closed in front of her, leaving a blank, featureless wall.

  "Damn." Sam hit the wall with her palm. She had no doubt Charon was trying to rattle them, isolating them, sending in Alpha, leaving them alone again. Unfortunately, recognizing his methods didn't stop them from working.

  Thomas came over. "Don't let it get to you."

  She spun around. "Don't you dare give them Turner. I don't care what they do to me. Promise me you won't give in to them."

  "Sam." He paused, then said, "All right. I promise."

  She knew he was lying. His posture, voice, and eyes revealed the truth. He promised for one reason: he assumed they were being monitored. He didn't want their captors to know they could gain his compliance by torturing Sam. Nor could she challenge his word, for the same reason. So she glared instead, hoping he knew her expressions as well as she knew his.

  Thomas smiled. "You could incinerate with that look."

  "Hmmph." She started pacing the room. Thomas watched her for a few moments, then sat against one wall and stretched out his legs. When she reached the opposite wall, she paced the other way. So she went, back and forth. It didn't help.

&n
bsp; Sam was a puzzle solver; she believed every problem had a solution. But if one existed here, she couldn't see the light.

  XX

  Parked and Gone

  The opening door woke Sam. She had been sitting next to it, intending to lunge for freedom the next time anyone entered. Groggy and half asleep, she jumped to her feet, but then someone shoved her against the wall. Hud. Behind him, she saw Alpha across the room, holding back Thomas, helped by Raze, the mercenary who had acted as copilot on the Rex. They each had one of Thomas's arms and they were wrestling with him as he struggled to come toward Sam.

  In the moments it took for Sam to finish waking up, Hud pressed an air syringe against her neck. The sibilant hiss made her frantic. She tried to wrench free, but he pinned her to the wall. The harder she fought, the more he pressed against her, covering her body with his, smothering her. She felt as if she were suffocating. Her mind clouded and she sagged in his hold. She didn't pass out, but she lost control of her muscles. Her last clear sight was Hud watching her with a possessive satisfaction that scared the hell out of her. Then her vision blurred into vague shapes and colors. Sounds became muffled, as if she were underwater. Her limbs felt numb.

  Hud picked her up, one arm under her legs, the other behind her back. She didn't want him to touch her, but her limbs no longer responded. As he carried her through the doorway, two blurs moved with them, Alpha and Thomas. She heard anger in Thomas's voice. Then her mind wandered into a haze.

  For a while Sam didn't think. She was aware of being carried, of her head hanging back. Then they were in a room with bright lights. Hud put her on a table, on her back, and strapped her down at the wrists, legs, waist, and neck. Thomas was arguing with someone, but she couldn't decipher words.

  Gradually her mind cleared. The ceiling came into focus. Glow-tiles. She tried to move her head, but her neck hurt. A strap held it to the table. On the second try, she managed to turn her head, though the leather scraped her skin. Her field of vision shifted to a console, a mech-chair, and other biomech equipment. She was in a lab.

  A person came into view. No, a monster. Alpha. Bile rose in Sam's throat. She tried to speak, but only a gurgle came out.

  Alpha stopped by the table. "Good evening."