"You beat him again, didn't you?" Damien asks.
Blice glares at him. "No. I'm never hurting him again. Isn't that right, Niko?"
"Apparently we're equals now." Isidore says.
"Equals? That's not what I hear."
Blice's fists tighten under the table. "Not another word about those rumors."
"Rumors? No. I happen to have a copy of the official charges brought against you."
This is ridiculous. Blice rubs his forehead and reaches for a few more pills. "I didn't come here to be interrogated. I came here for your help. Where's Byron?"
"Out with the Rubble Rebels on assignment. He should be getting back tomorrow."
Great. So now he has to stay here with only this crazy bastard. "Do you mind if we stay here for a few days until things calm down enough in Paradise for me to get in touch with my father and try to work something out?"
"Isidore can stay as long as he wants. You need to leave as soon as possible."
"I stay with Blice." Isidore says as he stretches out on a bed in the corner of the room. "He leaves, I leave."
Blice crosses his arms and grins. "I trained him well, did I not?"
Damien doesn't look amused. "Fine. You can stay, but only because I don't want Isidore roaming out in the wasteland."
"So, can I use your computer?" He moves his chair to face the screen.
"You have one hour."
"Thank you. Where did you get this anyway? It looks like Inquisition technology." Blice turns it on and an Inquisition symbol flashes on the screen. "Nice. So you stole this?"
"More like I salvaged it." Damien says.
"You're not funny."
"You need my password."
Blice smiles and takes off his insignia. "Nope." He places it against the blue hologram that appears. The screen flashes green. Access Granted. Welcome, Mr. Evans.
"Really?" Damien asks.
"Told you. It's Inquisition technology. I guess my father hasn't blocked me from the network yet. Do you not have internet out here?"
"It's Rubble City."
"So?"
Damien shakes his head. "No. There's no internet out here."
Isidore pulls up a chair beside Blice. "I have internet, Blice. Just use mine."
"Oh, that's right. Thank you, Niko. What would I do without you? Now, let's see what is going on in Paradise."
"Do you like having to do this, Isidore?" Damien asks.
"I don't mind. I like feeling useful."
"You like being a slave?"
Blice snaps at him. "Shut up, Montgomery. Isidore and I are friends. We help each other out because we care for one another."
"Whatever."
"Niko, look at what I found. Read that first line."
Isidore leans in closer. "It says: The funeral for Master Director Blice Evans McSage will be held on Tuesday the ninth in Paradise."
"So, they think you're dead." Damien says, unimpressed.
"That's not all." Blice says. "Look at the third paragraph. The news reports state that I was killed when there was an accidental explosion at my house. So even the media doesn't know that my father tried to have me killed. I wonder if President Evans thinks I'm actually dead or if he is doing this to cover up the fact that I got out alive."
"Maybe that's why he didn't bother to remove your security clearance." Isidore says. "He probably does believe you're dead. Everyone thinks I'm dead too."
Blice smiles at Isidore. Smart kid. Every day, Blice becomes more and more proud of him. "Good point, Niko."
Isidore smiles back at him.
He genuinely looks happy. Could things finally be getting back to the way they were always meant to be between them? Blice turns back to the computer and hands Isidore a USB cable. "Please hook this up and transmit my drafted document over here so I can finish it."
Isidore takes the cable. "No problem."
"Damien, I need you to leave the room while I have this open." Blice says. "It is extremely classified information. Only Isidore and I have clearance to view it."
"This is my room."
"Please. Don't be like this. I only need a few minutes."
"Fine." Damien leaves the room and slams the door hard.
"What got into him?" Blice asks as he opens his document.
"Who knows? Damien isn't the most forgiving man."
"You can say that again."
"Blice?"
"What's up?" Blice asks.
"This doesn't look like a peace treaty."
"It's not." Blice says as he types. "How observant of you. It's our request for asylum in Common Ground. If things get worse in Paradise and my father comes looking for us, we will go up north to the border and try to get in. Their leader, Prime Minister Leblanc, should be open to accepting us on political terms. He has never gotten along well with my father and if we extend a helping hand to Common Ground, we may be able to help them overthrow my father. Guess who gets the power and title of president when he's dead?"
"You."
Blice smiles. "Me. Won't it be great?"
"You want to kill your own father?"
With every fiber of his being. It has gone far beyond wanting revenge. This is for the good of the world. "One day you'll understand why. I may seem heartless about it, but I have a mountain of reasons. Even his life won't make up for what he put me and my mother through. Not to mention the horrific things he did to you."
Isidore sounds cautious as he speaks softly. "If we do this, we can't come back until your father is dead."
"Exactly."
"What about the people who still support you? Are we going to leave them here defenseless?"
"There isn't anyone who still supports me." Blice says.
"What about Clara Lifestone?"
Oh. He knew Isidore would want to still think of her as an ally. "I don't know about her. We have to maintain our distance from any inquisitors. There is no way of knowing who will try to kill us. You're in too deep to back out now, Niko. We are partners and if they want my life, they will kill you too."
"What if I stay here with Byron and Damien?" Isidore asks. "They can protect me."
"You are never leaving my side again, Niko. You stay with me and I stay with you. We don't have any other choice at this point. We are stronger together and only I know how to activate the new programs I installed that will give us an advantage in combat. You need me . . . but I need you more."
17
Isidore makes sure that Damien and Blice are asleep then he gathers his things in his backpack, slips the keys out of Blice's pocket, and sneaks out the door. He can't leave Clara behind. He just can't. Of course he knows that he needs Blice, but Blice will be okay on his own. Clara won't be okay. Isidore has the unexplainable need to protect her and be there for her. He has to make sure she is safe and cared for.
He sneaks past the Rubble Rebels standing watch at the gates to the city and slips out into the dark night. The Jeep is still where Blice left it and Isidore jumps inside then turns the key in the ignition. Is he really doing this? Driving off and leaving Blice behind? Part of him wants to be back by Blice's side and take whatever punishment something like this warrants, but the other part of his mind that has been recently awakened is urging him to drive. Drive far away from this place and make a new life for himself where the past will never be able to find him. If he drives fast enough and far enough, the memories won't catch up with him. He'll continue running from it all until he can't run anymore.
* * *
Apparently thirty minutes of driving is all the running he is able to do. The gas light blinks on the console. Really? He keeps driving, hoping that he can get somewhere, anywhere. But he knows it's futile. He stops the Jeep and punches the steering wheel. Why is this happening? Damn it, Blice. He couldn't even put fuel in the stupid thing. He locks the doors and crawls in the back seat. Pulling the blanket around him, he lies down and looks up at the bright stars behind the thin wispy clouds floating above him in the hazy atmospher
e. He'll have to go find some help tomorrow once the sun rises. Stupid deserts getting so cold at night. Isidore curls up and starts to shiver. This is going to be a long night.
Just as he is drifting to sleep, strong hands grab his shoulders and drag him to the ground. He hits hard and gasps in an attempt to regain his breath. What is going on? He looks up at the four men in all black with masks covering their faces. He stares at the barrel of an AK-47 an inch from his nose. Well, this isn't good. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
"Shut up." The man with the gun strikes Isidore across the face with it. "You speak when spoken to, computer."
Okay. That one hurt. Who are these people?
"On your knees. Put your hands on your head and look at the ground."
Isidore doesn't move. He can't. He is absolutely terrified. Did they follow him out here? Why are they addressing him as a computer? How do they know that? "Please let me ask a few questions." The gun hits his face and he drops down to the ground again.
"You don't get to ask questions. Inquisitor Dark wants you in one piece, but we can break a few bones if we have to."
Inquisitor Dark? Not him again. Why didn't he die on that space station? That doesn't matter right now. He gets on his knees and puts his hands on his head. The men surround him and secure his wrists with handcuffs then pull him to his feet and lead him over to a black armored transport. How did he not hear them drive up? Perhaps they were already waiting on him. That would explain why all the gas was gone. They probably siphoned enough to make sure Isidore could get away from Rubble City and end up close to their ambush. The men open the back and toss him into the darkness.
Isidore sits in the back of the transport and can't see a thing. He can hear the muffled conversation from the front where the men are. The air is thick and stale. He should have stayed in Rubble City with Blice. The cold metal burns against his skin and penetrates through his tan trench coat. He laughs and lays his head back against the wall. Even exiled, he still looks like an inquisitor. Someone had once told him that once someone is an inquisitor, they can never stop being one. It's all a state of mind, a state of mind that he wishes he could erase. No one needs to be so arrogant. Well, except for Blice. Blice needs all the help he can get.
So now the man who tried to kill him on that space station is waiting for him. Isidore says a quick prayer to calm his nerves. If God still cares about the life of an android, then there's a chance he could help and lend some divine guidance. Is this his final few minutes of life? What will Blice do if he finds out that Isidore is dead? Isidore already knows the answer and he doesn't want to think about it. Even knowing some of the torture that Blice put him though, he doesn't want Blice to commit suicide. Isidore has watched enough of those memories of holding an unconscious Blice on the floor as he trembled and his heart slowed to the point of nearly stopping. It was the worst experience of Isidore's clouded life.
The transport abruptly stops and Isidore knows that he could be nearing death. The door opens and before Isidore can react, a blindfold is tied around his eyes and he is dragged out of the transport. The men continue to half carry him until they pass through what sounds to be automatic doors then a blast of warm air is a welcome sensation on Isidore's shivering body. The floor is smooth here and all around is the sound of machines. He listens to all of their calls, their breathing, and their feelings. The computers in here don't seem to be in pain, so maybe this place isn't as bad as Isidore originally thought. Well . . . that is if the computers are actually speaking to him. A harsh antiseptic smell mixed with something baking confuses him even more. The men around him begin speaking in a different language that Isidore can't immediately place. It's never good when you're abducted, blindfolded, handcuffed, and men in black masks are speaking in a different language. Isidore has read enough to know that much. Hands remove the handcuffs just long enough for his coat to be stripped from him then they are secured again and someone sits him in a chair and a door shuts.
The blindfold is abruptly removed and a large man with a thick but short black beard sits directly in front of him. "Hello, Created One."
Isidore squints in the bright light in the room around him that looks all too much like a laboratory for him to be comfortable. "Who are you?"
"My name is Kazimir Dark." The man says in a deep and commanding voice with a slight accent.
"You're Inquisitor Dark?"
"Not actually an inquisitor, but yes."
"Okay. . . what about your insignia?" Isidore asks.
"I only hide behind this disguise in order to get things done and to further confuse the Inquisition. As for my insignia, it's real. I killed an inquisitor."
Isidore starts to feel sicker than he was already. "Really?"
"Surely that's not a problem for you."
Should he tell him? Well, if this Kazimir guy is going to kill him anyway, he might as well know the truth. "I . . . um, I'm an inquisitor."
"I know, but you're not like them." Kazimir takes Isidore's face in his large hands. "You're a superior being, Isidore. Why do you let that human man order you around?"
"Who? Blice?"
"Yes. If he knew your true potential, he would be the one groveling at your feet. Don't let those weak humans demean you. I've seen what they've been doing to you."
"You've been watching me?" Isidore asks.
"Of course. I have to monitor my greatest invention."
"I'm an invention?"
"You really don't understand what androids are, do you?"
This is getting more and more complicated the longer he is here. "I guess not. Blice wants the best for me. He only does that stuff to teach me lessons. I need to be punished when I go against orders."
"You've been brainwashed."
"No!" Isidore almost screams. "I need Blice. He knows how to keep me safe and protected."
He lets go of Isidore and crosses his arms. "Have you watched all of your memories?"
Isidore glances down at the floor and feels those cold eyes bearing down on him. "Well . . . not all of them."
"I want you to trust me." Kazimir says. "Let me do what I need to do."
"What are you going to do?"
"What I should have done twenty-one years ago."
"What happened then?" Isidore asks.
"You came into existence as the first successful android . . . my android."
Oh, this isn't good. "Your android?"
"I was the one who changed the DNA composition that produced you instead of some horrific mutation like the others. Don't let the Inquisition find out that little bit of information. They still think they were the ones to create you. They are dead wrong. You wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for me hacking into their programs and altering the data there. I messed with their experiments so you would live. You're welcome."
"There are others?" Isidore asks.
"There were others until they ate each other."
Now he really is feeling physically sick. "What?"
"Yep. They were in so much pain that they killed each other to end their suffering. After you were a success, they continued trying to duplicate you, but it always failed. They went back to making their M.A.G.E.s and passed you off as being a mistake and a slave for that arrogant rich kid in Paradise."
Isidore manages to push past the growing nausea and tries to focus on something else. "I was made for Blice."
"No. You were made by me for the Unified State. I'm a T.I.M.E. and I needed you to be able to live in Paradise and transmit information back to us up there in the space station. Well, that didn't work out so well after Blice destroyed the original programming I had done. He deleted everything I had worked on for so long."
"You're a T.I.M.E.? Then why did you kill all of the others? I saw them. My grandmother was one of them."
"She wasn't really your grandmother." Kazimir says. "You have some aspects of DNA from her son. Hardly anything to be sentimental about. Besides, you have a grander purpose so I needed all of their microchips to compi
le the necessary upgrades for your operating system."
"I don't think you should mess with my brain." Isidore protests. "Blice is in the middle of reprogramming some things."
"That is precisely why I am going to fix you, Created One. I need you to be a honed and infallible computer of precision. Don't get too attached to this world. I made you to be the coup de grace that will finally end all of this suffering."
"You want me to destroy the world?"
"Yes. However, it's not that bad, is it?" Kazimir asks as he strokes his beard and examines Isidore's body. "Your friend Damien will have W.A.N.D. finished soon and the chosen humans will be saved. You are to destroy Common Ground, Grand Victoria, and The Red Republic before they decide to push this little disagreement with the Unified State beyond repair."
None of this is making any sense. "You want me to save the world by destroying the world?"
"Precisely."
"I refuse to kill innocent people." Isidore says with conviction.
"Is anyone truly innocent?" Kazimir asks. He stands and walks slowly around Isidore, examining him more closely. He pulls up Isidore's shirt to look at his chest and back then messes with his ears.
"I'm not doing it."
"You don't have a choice." Kazimir says as he smoothes Isidore's hair.
Isidore feels so uncomfortable being looked at like some kind of animal that he could scream. However, that doesn't seem like the most intelligent thing to do right now. He tries to ignore the man's wandering hands that are beginning to wander to places Isidore never wants a man's hands to be. "I'm starting to learn that I never have had a choice about anything in life."
"You're a computer android. You're basically a slave. Slaves don't get to live their lives. Your owners live it for you."
Isidore jumps when Kazimir's hand grabs at his groin. He bites his lip and closes his eyes and the man feels him through his pants. This is the worst thing ever.
Kazimir lets go and scribbles something on a notebook. "And yes, I'm your owner too."
He doesn't want to hear that word again. Is he not alive? Can he not think on his own without them? Even Blice acknowledged that. But no. He is forever destined to be a slave for his owner, whoever that is at the time. His hands tighten into fists. "I don't give a damn if I'm a human, a computer, an android, or something else entirely. I am alive and I don't need an owner. I am my owner. No one is going to control me any longer."
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 40