by Ann Aguirre
I’ll never let anyone hurt you.
Then she turned to program four steaming cups of pirin, one with extra spice just as she liked it. “I’ll be fine. Corroborate what I say and don’t elaborate, even if they ask.”
“Are you suggesting that you are better at prevarication?”
“I’m not fantastic,” she admitted, “but I’ll do my best. Trust me?”
“With everything that I am.” His somber tone sent a flutter through her.
Stop it. This is assuredly not the time.
With effort, she calmed herself and set the hot drinks on a platter, carrying them with as much composure as she could muster. The agents hadn’t moved, and she knew this because Aevi was keeping a wary eye on them from her perch near the ceiling. If strangers had attempted to probe deeper into the little one’s territory, she would have produced a fearful racket. Even now, her hackles were raised, and she looked as if she might launch herself at Agent Atarr’s unsuspecting back.
“Be polite,” she said softly.
And Agent Orlon glanced around in startled alarm, only then noticing their silent observer. “You keep a Pherzul in your home?”
“It’s not illegal,” she said, oddly defensive. “Aevi is my companion, and I have registered her with all relevant—”
“He was merely curious,” Atarr cut in. “We’re not here in regard to that matter. Indeed, that falls well outside our purview.”
“Here.” She set the flagons down and took hers first, so nobody else wound up surprised by the spiced heat. “Now then, about your questions?”
Orlon took a perfunctory sip. “You’ve already confirmed that you knew about the crash. Why didn’t you report it?”
Because I didn’t want to draw attention to it.
She stared blankly. “Was I supposed to? I’m sorry. I thought your agency had satellites and operatives dedicated to such matters. Don’t you normally send a rescue team to extricate any possible survivors?”
The agents shared another significant look, one Qalu interpreted as deciding silently how much to tell her. “Since the initial report indicated an unmanned drone, it didn’t seem to be an urgent matter. The account was buried until the bounty hunter arrived.”
“That makes sense,” she said placidly, as if Helix’s safety didn’t depend on how well she handled this interview. “Still, it was fortunate the ship went down in an unpopulated area, though, or the consequences could have been serious.”
Agent Atarr perked up at this statement, rather more than she thought it warranted. “Yes, that’s why we’re inclined to give credence to the hunter’s allegation regarding a fugitive. While sheer luck might have resulted in such a happy coincidence, it seems more plausible that some intelligence guided the ship.”
“We also see little opportunity for a remotely piloted vessel to have successfully navigated our security checkpoints,” Orlon added.
Helix, what did you do before the crash? Did you hack our transit computers? Did you leave any trace in passing? She wondered if ATA scientists could track him down in time, connecting to frequencies unique to his code. I don’t know, I just don’t. And my ignorance might get us in trouble.
“Agent,” his partner said in a warning tone, as if they ought not reveal anymore. “In any case, since your residence is closest to the crash site, we have a number of queries.”
“Go ahead.” Qalu sipped at her pirin, wishing she could enjoy the flavor. Helix settled next to her, silent as a desolate burial mound.
But his movement drew the agent’s attention. “Who is this?”
“Helix. I live with Qalu.”
That much was true, and it would’ve been strange if he didn’t speak when spoken to. Yet anxiety and dread still warred within her, tightening her entire body. If she didn’t get it locked down, her scent and her posture would give them away. To her astonishment, he leaned toward her and let one of their head tendrils entwine in an intimate if fleeting gesture. Nothing could have spoken more eloquently about their relationship, and she relaxed a little. It was a bold move, practically a declaration of his intentions, but the agents might well take it as a statement that she was off-limits. Then Helix eased back, his bearing easy and open. He’s better at this than I am. She didn’t know if she ought to find that comforting.
Orlon seemed to find the move amusing. “We’re not here to delve into your personal life. Have you encountered any strangers in the area since the crash?”
“No one. But we don’t go out much. I work from home and Helix is an artist.
Sometimes we walk with Aevi…and we went to the museum today. Otherwise, it’s been quiet.” It was best to cover with the truth, she suspected. “My mothers visited us as well. Did you want to talk to them?” That was a calculated risk because if Inatol mentioned that Helix had arrived recently, it might make the agents investigate his background. Qalu was gambling everything on the value of being viewed as cooperative and helpful.
“That won’t be necessary. But I was wondering…” Agent Atarr asked a few more routine questions—or she guessed they were, as she’d never been interviewed by the ATA before. “This is our contact information. Please let us know if you notice anything unusual.”
Like saving a dying AI and transplanting his code into a biosynthetic prototype? Once the ATA left, she nearly collapsed with relief, but this was a temporary respite at best.
Qalu feared that their time was running out and she had no idea what to do about it.
[ 8 ]
Though Qalu tried to hide it, Helix could tell that she was deeply troubled as she cleared away all signs of their unwelcome guests. Aevi scampered down from her position near the ceiling and scrambled up his body to perch on his shoulder.
“She smells like fear,” the little one said. “Are the bad ones gone?”
“How do you know they’re bad?” he asked.
“They frightened Qalu,” she responded simply. “She is the best, and anyone who scares her cannot be good.”
Perhaps it was the limitation of his current form but that statement held together in a logical sense. “If only there was something I could do to help.”
If only I could remember. What if I committed a crime and they are justified in hunting me down? Without being able to recall how he had passed the last half cycle, uncertainty flickered to and fro in the disordered mess of his mind. Most of all, Helix missed the tidy collections of data, readily accessible on command. This new life offered compensation, but there were losses. The worst part of all this? He understood that he was endangering Qalu. She’d saved him, and she protected him still, even at great personal risk. What he remembered about the Tiralan judicial system indicated that she could lose everything if their ruse fell apart.
Aevi let out an ominous sound, somewhere between a rumble and a growl. “I should have bitten them.”
“That would have made everything worse,” Qalu said, returning to the main space quietly.
“I should leave,” he said.
The words came out on their own, but as soon as he spoke them, he recognized the rightness. Better that he fend for himself than drag her further into his difficulties. That way, if he was unmasked after the fact, she could claim that he had deceived her and perhaps receive a lighter punishment.
“Where would you go? And with what resources?”
He doubted she meant to injure with those questions, but he felt the sting nonetheless. Now, he understood her objection toward intimacy between them. Indeed, he brought nothing to their partnership other than himself, and how could that possibly be enough? Until this moment, he hadn’t fully grasped the concept of an emotional injury, but his whole being throbbed with a renewed sense of inadequacy.
And maybe he gave some sign, some behavioral clue, because she stepped closer, her posture suddenly all amends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s the truth,” he said tightly. “I have nothing, no useful memories, and cannot accomplish anything on
my own. You shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t you dare say that,” she cut in. “No matter what happens, I will never regret saving you.”
Her sincerity washed over him, easing some of the rawness. How curious, he hadn’t known what it was to suffer internally. Before, it was only the crisp edges of information, the easy factoring of probability. All clean and clinical, devoid of sensory resonance.
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, loathing the helplessness he heard in his own tone.
He wanted to be capable for her—to extricate them both from danger, but current circumstances were so beyond his extent capabilities as to be amusing.
“Right now, we do nothing.”
Helix registered the faint stress on the word ‘we’. Even when they argued, she ensured that he didn’t feel alone. Aevi dug her claws into his shoulder, a physical pain that distracted from the emotional one.
“Don’t scold Qalu,” she warned. “I like you more than most who are not Qalu but I will teach you a lesson if you bully her. I am small but I can make you sorry.”
“Get down and stop threatening him!” Qalu plucked the little one from his shoulder and set her down. “It would be more suspicious if we vanished after a casual visit from the ATA. Whatever we decide to do, we must be calm and measured about it.”
With effort, he steadied his respirations, realizing that he was nearly gasping in his agitation and his head tendrils were fluttering like he was about to take flight. She must know how upset he was, yet she was still gentle and patient.
“Do we have options?”
“It may be a challenge if we decide to leave Tiralan. But with any luck, the bounty hunter will conclude that your data was destroyed in the crash and leave. Without someone agitating for answers, I suspect the ATA agents will be happy to close the case and move on.”
“And if we are not?”
Qalu held silent for a long moment. “Then we run.”
“You would give up everything you have, your whole life, for me?” That was so inexplicable, a completely unreasonable decision, that he wanted to protest, and yet part of him glowed with the irrational brilliance of it.
I matter that much to her.
I do.
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, and he feared what she’d say if he queried. What if she declared dedication to her research or to the prototype she’d devoted so much time to developing? If her loyalty sprang from more esoteric and less personal motives, it would inflict deep psychic harm. So he let it stand where it was.
“Until then we bide our time?”
“I’ll start making backup plans. We won’t be caught off-guard again,” she promised. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me, so—”
“If not for you, I wouldn’t exist.” He sliced brutally into what he guessed would be some attempt to take responsibility for this situation.
But it’s mine to carry. Whatever I did out there, it dragged a bounty hunter down on us. And it wouldn’t be easy to elude someone who stalked others for a living.
Judging from her abortive movement toward him, she intuited his emotional state, somehow. It could be her deep familiarity with Tiralan body language but it felt more like a deep knowing, as if he could hide nothing from her. Not ever. That vulnerability offered both intimacy and potential harm, a blade that cut both ways.
She touched him only with her words, however. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure of that.”
“Such towering faith in me,” he said unsteadily. “When I have none. Would you…” No, he shouldn’t ask.
She’s done enough.
“What, Helix?” Another step closer, so that he could smell the spice of her pheromones and the tang of fear that Aevi had mentioned. “You can ask for anything. I meant it when I said that before.”
“Comfort me like before.” Despite feeling sure that he had no right to demand such services when his defective, unreliable memory had created this reprehensible coil, he still craved the softness she had granted earlier.
“That’s so easy,” she breathed.
And then she was in his space, all tenderness and caution, touching only with that soft, tympanic cadence, soothing his internal aches in ways he hadn’t even suspected were possible before now. He let out an instinctive pleasure sound because his body recognized what she was offering. His muscles eased and he went to her by increments, until they leaned together, chests touching.
“I cannot let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “And yet I lack the ability to stop them. Isn’t it absurd? With every fiber of my being, I yearn to protect, but I’m the one who needs saving.”
Each time she breathed in, he felt it. Helix couldn’t say how he would feel about others, but he had grown accustomed to her proximity. It no longer felt as if her touch might erase him; rather, it seemed more probable that she could crack him open and extricate some new creature from the chrysalis, a slick and trembling thing, soft and eager and straining toward her light.
At length he calmed and she stepped away, ever careful not to push his boundaries or test his limits. A quiet part wished that she had a sliver less integrity, that she would have him, on any terms, even those disparate ones.
But I have a lot to learn yet. I must get stronger. Must learn more. Must become worthy of such an incredible person.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said then.
“It’s been a long day. You probably want to rest.”
That wasn’t it. Until today, he had been content to coast, to bask in the sweetness of their pretend life. But that illusion had been shuttered, and if they weren’t to be sliced to pieces on the wreckage, he had to remember.
Where have I been? What have I done?
Helix would answer those questions, even if they destroyed him.
After Helix retired, a single thought circled in Qalu’s head.
I could lose everything.
It wasn’t that she intended to go back on her word or abandon him. Those two things, she could never willingly do. But the stark reality stared her in the face—how high the risk had become. In the beginning, she’d had a small sense of breaking the rules. Not notifying the scientific coalition about what she’d done. Now, the ATA and a bounty hunter were involved, greatly imperiling their liberty and security.
She let out a breath as Aevi scampered up and snuggled against her, trusting that Qalu would welcome her. With trembling hands, she stroked Aevi’s head, crooning to her softly, because the little one sensed her mood and was trembling slightly, a mournful whirr rumbling in her throat.
“It’s bad,” she said. “Very bad. Do we have to go now? Should we go?”
“That…is an excellent question.”
“Why do they hunt Helix? Because he’s different? Different is special. You told me that after the others wouldn’t come near me.”
That hadn’t been one of her shining moments. After saving Aevi, she’d tried to help her meet a clutch of Pherzuls to improve her socialization, but they’d screeched and fled, treating her like a dangerous stranger, not one of their own. If anyone would understand how Helix felt right now, it was probably Aevi.
“That’s true, but sometimes people fear what they don’t understand.”
Aevi rubbed against her. “Are we going now? But where? Where?”
I have no idea.
This situation was rapidly getting too big for her to manage, but she had no clue what to do. Any contacts she had in the scientific community would report her infraction straightaway, and that course led to the ATA at her domicile with the bounty hunter taking Helix away. Her mothers would likely respond the same way, as she feared they wouldn’t consider him a real person. They would see him as one of Qalu’s strange experiments, and while they might regret causing her pain via his removal, they would see it as beneficial in the long run, forcing her to conform to more ‘normal’ patterns. Find companionship along the usual roads instead of wandering rare and extraordinary paths.
A
nd yet, she would miss her mothers, even if they didn’t understand her. Her maternal units would be hurt if she vanished with some mysterious lover. She wasn’t prone to such impulsive behavior, but Helix already mattered so much that she was willing to risk everything to keep him safe.
If I do this, no one will help me.
Still comforting Aevi, she moved to her laboratory, studying the equipment she had spent many cycles requisitioning, carefully rationing her stipends until she had a facility worthy of the name. Outwardly she might appear calm, still able to make rational choices, but there was only tremors and devastation within. In the space of a few moments, the entire foundation of her life had been shaken, forcing her to choose between Helix and her scientific ambitions.
I can’t forsake him. He has nobody else.
But that wasn’t the only reason. In such a short time, she’d become attached and could no longer imagine her life without him. If they took him, it would destroy her, wondering what torments he was suffering alone. Some of the fear receded, leaving only its grim relation, necessity.
I’ll do whatever I must to keep us safe.
She had said it would be suspicious if they left Tiralan right after the ATA visit, but it might be foolhardy to wait for the snare to snap closed. If they waited until the hunt intensified and the bounty hunter drew closer, it might be too late.
Which door to open then? Preemptive action or cautious patience? Thrumming with nervous energy, she found little of the latter to spare. If it was only her safety and professional reputation at stake, she might stay on Tiralan and gamble on the ATA agents deciding that nothing could have survived the detonation. The risk was too high with regard to Helix.
Quickly, she powered up the terminal and keyed the command for encryption, a propriety routine that Qalu had written herself. Such security had been necessary to protect her research, but gratitude filled her, now that she needed it for other reasons. In her field, there were always fringe factions—those who demonstrated against the work and called it unnatural and those who protested against machine intelligence being essentially enslaved by their creators. Qalu carefully followed the hidden keys planted on various nodes until she found the secret, buried communication that gave the cipher necessary to unlock the portal where the Free AI revolution maintained its virtual headquarters.