His carefully emotionless tone made her focus more closely on his facial expressions and body language. “And that is?”
“I’d design projectiles along the lines of nanorobots—build in a program that prompts them to automatically exit the target. Maybe even self-destruct if they can’t be retrieved.”
“An interesting suggestion, Seth.”
“Nothing like digging around in a chick’s abdomen to get the old creative juices flowing.”
His humor was a little off. And his smile, while fully formed this time, was the slightest bit crooked and sat uneasily on his face.
Jay guessed he’d suffered a degree of psychological trauma while “digging around” in her abdomen. She found herself truly regretful for what she had forced him to do, however there had been no other logical option available to her. It had been either Seth or Tyler. And Seth, with his knowledge of cyborg core programming, and far reduced degree of emotional involvement, had been by far the better option than Tyler—not that Jay believed she would have had the slightest chance of convincing Tyler to shoot her.
“I’m sorry you had to do this, Seth.”
“You ever heard the saying, ‘Don’t thank me, buy me something’?”
“I can’t say I’ve come across that one but it does sound like something Caro would say.”
He shook his head in a half-hearted manner. “Lemme guess, another friend of yours?”
“My best friend, to be precise. Caro was the first human to truly accept me for what I am. She’s also my boyfriend’s twin sister.”
“Now that’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing.” Seth reached out to snag a stool. He pulled it close and flopped into it, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Perhaps later. You were saying?”
“Oh, yeah. That. How about, ‘Don’t apologize to me, just put me out of my misery.’”
Jay registered that her brow had crinkled in automatic response to her confusion. “You are miserable? Why?”
“This is not one of those times when you should take a human literally, Jay. In fact, I’ll be the complete opposite of miserable if you clue me in on the real reason you brought me to your super-secret underground lab.” He flicked a finger at the basin. “’S not like you can’t churn out plenty more of these babies if you’re inclined. I mean, sure, give me enough time to figure out what you’ve tweaked and I can make more of ’em, but you could do it a helluva lot faster, right? So, how ’bout you tell me what you really want me for?”
A smart man, Seth Williams. Little wonder Evan Caine had recruited him, and then taken steps to make it nigh on impossible for him to leave. And only a cyborg could have detected the minute tremor in his voice—a physical “tell” that, among other things, informed her Seth was not as calm as he appeared.
Jay had often pondered the saying, “The truth will set you free.” Apparently she was about to experience firsthand what was so “freeing” about it.
“I’ve recently come across evidence that I have a sister,” she said, focusing upon Seth to gauge his reaction.
He straightened from his slump. And…. There it was—the fascinating physiological response that morphed dull gray irises to cutting-edge silver.
“It’s only a matter of time before I locate her,” Jay continued. “But once I have, I believe it’s highly likely I will require your assistance, because all indications are that she is defective.”
She waited for him to jump in with questions but he merely motioned her to continue.
“The only information I have at this stage is that she is a Beta model.”
Now Seth came straight to the point. “And you’re a Gamma model. Which means she’s your predecessor, correct?”
“Correct.”
“God Al-freaking-mighty,” he muttered, scrubbing his fingers through his hair and then shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “So, what are the chances the prototype Caine stole from Durham, and this Beta unit, are one and the same?”
Now wasn’t the time to inform Seth that she was no longer identical to the Beta because she had aged her outer shell, and altered her skin tone and hair color. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Seems highly likely. There were rumors about Caine retiring a cyborg but that was before my time. I kinda figured they referred to a dud predecessor of Sixer’s.” He snorted. “Figures Caine would scrap a defective unit—even if it was one of Durham’s. The man had all the patience of a shark scenting blood. He always wanted results last week.”
Jay let him brood on his former boss for a while. Unlike Evan Caine, she was perfectly capable of practicing patience when circumstances called for it.
Seth finally broke the hush with a question. “You reckon you can fix her—this Beta unit?”
“I won’t know until I find her. But I’m hopeful that we—presuming you are prepared to assist me, of course—can do something to improve her prospects.”
Seth’s answering grin was not only full-blown but full of teeth. And the light in his eyes? Fanatically eager was an apt descriptor. “Sign me up,” he said.
She cautioned him with a “Whoa there, buddy” palms-up gesture. “I need to explain exactly what this means for you.”
“That I’m stuck here, in these nice digs with the awesome, super-secret underground lab, and can’t poke my nose out the door for the duration?” He snorted. “So long as I’m regularly fed and watered, and there’s cable to watch when I need a break from lab work—” He cast a hopeful gaze her way.
“Of course. The property will be fully staffed, with a chef at your beck and call.
“Then I’m your man. Because to be quite honest, Jay, even if you were a heinous bitch, you’d be a vast improvement over the mean-as-a-snake megalomaniac who was my hopefully now deceased former boss.”
While she appreciated his enthusiasm, she wanted him absolutely clear what she required from him. “Seth, right now this may seem like a holiday in comparison to working for Caine, when in fact it is a somewhat more luxurious prison. You’ll need to remain inside, and you won’t be allowed to contact family or friends until I give the all-clear. Once I’ve dealt with Sixer the risk will decrease, but you’ll need a bodyguard until I can identify and deal with whoever sent those men after you. If such restrictions are a deal breaker for you, then now’s the time to speak up.”
A twist of his mouth morphed his expression from eager to somber. “And if I think I can’t handle it and want out, what then?”
Jay wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure—I hadn’t thought that far ahead. How does a pair of concrete boots and a deep stretch of water with your name on it sound to you?”
Seth goggled at her, his jaw agape. And then a gust of astonished laughter burst from him. “God. You really had me going there for a minute. Seriously, though—”
“Seriously, I truly hadn’t thought that far ahead. I hoped you would be suitably grateful for the offer of protection from whatever Sixer had planned for you, eager to help with the Beta’s rehabilitation, and resigned to letting me protect you until any possible threats are neutralized. But if you do want out, I can set you up with a new name, a bank account, and a life in another country.”
His slow blink and unnatural—for Seth, anyway—stillness, suggested he was processing that last possibility, weighing up his options.
He linked his fingers and stretched both arms toward the ceiling, arching first to the left and then to the right, loosening tight muscles. “As nice as… I dunno, Australia sounds right now after being cooped up in that shithole motel, I’d rather stick around. And—” he again slanted her hopeful eyes “—I’d like to see my baby sis again before I have to take off for parts unknown.”
“For the moment, the best way to keep Gabrielle safe is to let her believe you died in the explosion when Sixer blew up the labs.”
“Yeah, I know. Sucks that she thinks I’m dead, though. I’m the only close family she’s got.”
His slumped shoulders and the w
eariness in his tone prompted Jay to make another attempt at humor to cheer him up. “Besides, have you any idea how many dangerous animals they have in Australia?” She ticked each one off on her fingers. “Snakes. Spiders. Sharks. Crocodiles. Jellyfish. Oh, and let’s not forget the blue-lined octopus and the stinging stonefish.”
Seth looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jesus, Jay. You’re a real piece of work.”
She tried on her most hopeful puppy dog expression. “In a good way?”
He chuffed a laugh. “You bet.”
“Come on.” She swung her feet off the gurney, shuffled until she was perched on the edge, and held out her hand. “I don’t want to end up on my ass, so help me down from this nightmare on wheels and we’ll see what we can rustle you up for dinner.”
She didn’t need assistance, of course. Any lingering effects of the DEP had been negated, but he didn’t need to know that. In her somewhat limited experience, human males liked to feel needed.
Seth heaved himself from the chair, grasped her beneath the elbows, and lifted her down from the gurney. His stomach chose that moment to give a loud rumble. “Right now, I could murder another Twinkie but at a pinch, a can of beans’ll do.”
“Oh, I think I can do better than that,” Jay told him as he followed her through the exit. “There is no fresh food in stock right now, but there are adequate stores of canned and dried foodstuffs. I’m an excellent cook; I’m sure I can whip you up something tasty and sulfite-free in a jiffy.”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know about my sulfite intolerance.”
She tapped her temple with a forefinger. “Super-cyborg deductive powers—the exact same powers that make me a damn fine cook.” She closed the door to the lab and confirmed the locks had engaged before tapping a sequence of numbers on the keypad. Above them, a muted swoosh indicated that the bookcase disguising the trapdoor entrance had shifted aside. It might not have been the most imaginative way of disguising the lab’s presence, but it was what some people might term “an oldie but a goodie”. Jay believed it was highly unlikely that anyone would think to investigate the floor beneath a bookcase crammed full of genre fiction in a master bedroom.
“Don’t forget the ability to punch through walls, sling a guy over your shoulder and leap a fence in a single bound,” Seth said, trailing her up the stairs. “Oh and steal cars.”
“That, too.” Jay pressed a remote control and watched the bookcase slide back in place. “Though considering I left the vehicle a few blocks from its original position, I prefer ‘temporarily borrowing’ to stealing.” She handed the remote to Seth, and exited the bedroom.
Behind her, he loosed a perfect snort-laugh. “Duly noted. Thanks—for everything,” he called after her. “And when you kick Sixer’s ass, make sure you tell him it’s from me.”
Jay recalled the still healing bruises on Seth’s face, and the way he’d nursed his ribs when he’d unfolded his lanky frame from the car. She halted to glance over her shoulder at him. “You’d better believe I will,” she promised.
~*~
Cyborg Unit Six-Point-0 had been created to resemble a young human male, and had quickly identified the benefits of adopting the appropriate masculine pronouns rather than referring to himself as “it”.
It was not an acceptable label when one wished to pass as a human. For humans of Evan Caine’s ilk, it was an object, a thing—less than human, which was an exquisite example of irony considering that Six-Point-0 was far superior to humans. At least, he was superior now that he was no longer a tool, subject to the whims of the humans who had built and programmed him to obey their commands. And for that, he had another cyborg to thank.
She—for Cyborg Unit Gamma-Dash-One had been created to resemble a young human female—had utilized various labels, most notably Jay Smith and Jaime Smythson. Six-Point-0 knew Gamma preferred “Jay” to any of the other identities she had assumed. He also knew enough about Gamma’s history, and often illogical thought processes, to know that the name paid homage to her deceased creator—a man who had forced her to terminate his life, thus insuring the core commands that could control Gamma died with him.
There was no logic in Sixer paying homage to Evan Caine, the man whose obsession had finally resulted in the creation of a sentient cyborg he’d erroneously believed he could totally control. However, shortly after his creation, Six-Point-0 had been dubbed “Sixer” by a lab worker who was a basketball fanatic. The label “Sixer” had proven useful on those occasions when a name was required by the humans he encountered—even humans who were not enamored by the sport of basketball tended to lower their guards after Sixer admitted to being “named” by a hardcore Philly 76ers fan. However, considering the number of times he had been required to explain the origin of the name, perhaps “Sixer” was not an ideal label.
Unit Gamma-Dash-One who called herself Jay had once suggested Sixer adopt the label “Adam Jones”, and it had been this name Sixer had given when reserving a room at the Snapperton Motel. “Adam Jones” hadn’t provoked questions as to the origin of such a name. It hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow. And since that successful encounter, Six-Point-0 had debated dropping the label “Sixer” altogether, but for some wholly illogical reason that he was unable to fathom, a part of him rebelled at the idea of giving it up.
Gamma would doubtless find his attachment to a mere label a positive development—a symptom of the process she called “evolving”. Sixer merely found it irrational, and therefore a concern that had prompted him to run a full systems diagnostic. He had not been programmed to be irrational. Nor had he been programmed to be predictable—something that Gamma had proven herself to be at this very moment.
When he’d first detected Gamma’s arrival at the motel complex, Sixer had calculated when this knock on his motel door would occur. Now he could confirm it fell within the time parameters he had estimated by an acceptable margin, and if Sixer had been human, he might have allowed himself a congratulatory smile. Allowing himself to be sighted by the human female known as Nessa had produced the desired effect. Eventually. For Sixer had originally predicted Gamma would seek him out sooner, but apparently he had over-estimated her protectiveness toward a human she appeared to consider a “friend”.
Or perhaps he did not fully comprehend the exact nature of their relationship—unsurprising perhaps, given Gamma’s history with Nessa. This would be an excellent opportunity to quiz Gamma about her “feelings” for the human female, and add the information to his databanks.
Sixer opened the door and inhaled, drawing Gamma’s unique odor deep into his lungs, absorbing it, separating out each individual component and confirming her identity beyond a doubt. “Hello, Jay,” he said, adhering to her preference for such greetings, which she believed allowed her to better pass as human.
“Hello, Sixer.”
“Come in.” He opened the door wider, standing back to allow her to enter the room.
“Thank you.”
As he shut the door and engaged the security latch to insure a degree of privacy, he noted a metallic odor from something secreted on her person. Although the odor was too weak to indicate the presence of a concealed weapon, his sensors indicated it was highly likely that Gamma carried two of the projectiles he’d used to disable her.
He dismissed the possibility the projectiles posed a threat as inconsequential. They were far more likely to represent a reminder of how easily he’d overcome her defenses on two separate occasions. Yes. That fit. It was the kind of symbolism a strange creature like Gamma might embrace.
Too, previous interactions with Gamma led him to conclude she had been programmed to attack only when personally threatened, or in defense of certain significant humans. Logic dictated she had no reason to—
Despite having immediately identified the muted click of the firing mechanism, the impact of the projectile piercing his left buttock was an unwelcome surprise. Sixer’s brain prompted him to Move, now! but before his m
uscles could respond it was too late.
The next thing he became consciously aware of was Gamma’s voice announcing, “Fifteen point seven minutes after extraction. Excellent. You know, Sixer, just because you’re misfortunate enough to have Evan Caine’s DNA influencing your human template, doesn’t mean you have to be a cruel, arrogant megalomaniac with all the empathy of an amoeba.”
Sixer worked saliva into the dry cavern of his mouth and swallowed to lubricate his throat. “To my knowledge, single-celled organisms consisting of protoplasmic masses encased in thin membranes that lack fixed forms are incapable of empathy.”
“If that was an attempt at humor,” she countered, “it was pretty pathetic. You need to practice more.”
He peeled open first one eyelid, and then the other, and when he could focus, discovered Gamma perched atop a dining suite chair she’d placed beside the bed. She’d propped her feet atop the mattress on which he now lay—her doing, obviously. Though why she’d exerted herself to move him he could not fathom.
“You developed a stronger, more focused EMP projectile,” he said.
“Of course I did. What did you expect, Sixer? That after you paraded yourself in front of Nessa to get my attention, I’d simply stroll up to you unarmed, smile, and inquire how they’re hanging?”
He allowed his head to loll to the side so that he could observe her expression. “While I am unable to comprehend how my male genitalia could possibly relate to our current situation, I will admit you have surprised me, Gamma. I did not predict that you would attack without provocation.”
She tapped the weapon he’d failed to detect on her left cheek. And then she gave him a slow smile that displayed her teeth. “Call me Gamma one more time, and I’ll consider myself provoked.”
“Duly noted. If it is acceptable to you, henceforth I will refer to you as Jay.”
Birdlike, she cocked her head to one side, her bright blue eyes observing him minutely. “So you thought I’d be good ole, predictable, wannabe-human Jay, huh? And of course good ole, predictable, wannabe-human Jay wouldn’t retaliate after you’d proven yourself superior by cheating and shooting me full of EMP projectiles.” Her gaze narrowed even as her smile widened. “You thought wrong. Guess it sucks to be you right now.”
Freaks Under Fire Page 16