Alienation

by S E Anderson

  "Well, Sonota was the one who seemed to know what he was doing," I said, "though not all that well. But they had guns and I didn't. Ergo, here I am. And then they were taken over by the ICP, which is way smarter than any of us, so you know, you can add that to the equation too."

  "You're barefoot," she said. "Did they take your shoes? Smart ploy to stop you from getting away."

  "No, they forgot to give me any." I lifted my skirts to display my dirty toes. Some had gone purple and would hurt in the morning.

  "Well, I have some good news on that front," Zander said, extracting something red from his large black bag marked “money”.

  "Where did the hostage fund go?" I asked. He winked and pulled out a smaller bag from the one he was holding.

  My duffel bag. My heart leapt. At last, some semblance of normalcy.

  "My Chucks!" I reached for them. They were battered, but they were mine. "You saw Tchilla?"

  "She reached out to me a few hours ago." He smiled as he handed them over. "She told me you'd be here tonight. Blayde and I were surprised to see you on television, though."

  "I thought I told you to keep out of trouble?" said Blayde.

  "Tchilla gave me everything. And by the weight of it, it feels like you have a change of clothes. And I have your dress."

  "Basically, get changed and be quick about it," Blayde snapped. "Much more important things to deal with now. Sally, tell us everything you know about the ICP. How is it controlling people? What's its range?"

  "Um ..." I started, but Blayde glared.

  Okay, time to get this dress off. I felt as if I was disrespecting Tchilla by stripping out of her dress and leaving it here. She had in a way saved my life by getting a message to Zander, but what else could I do? There was a planet to save.

  Zander made himself busy at the computer monitor as I put clean clothing back on. Tchilla had washed them for me. That small, kind action was enough to bring my fragile self to tears again.

  Blayde watched me change with eyes wide. "Do Terrans usually have such unusual markings?" She shook her head as if punishing herself for having said anything.

  "It's a bruise. Don't you get them?"

  "I heal in a heartbeat." She shrugged. "That looks awful."

  I froze. It was the first time she had said anything compassionate toward me. What had happened while I was away? She still looked like the stone-cold warrior she was always had been—no ICP in her mind to change the way she lived.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "Don't mention it. Now put your clothes on and tell us what you know."

  I did what she asked. I pulled on my shirt, wincing as my shoulder cried from being lifted too high. On came my pants—slow and deliberate, much to Blayde's chagrin—and then finally, my shoes, without any socks but who cared at this point. They were so clean, patched, and repaired that it was as if I had purchased them yesterday. I owed Tchilla more than my life.

  All the while, I told them what I knew. "It's a quantum computer. It's been planning this for years and claims to have been using the robots to put nanobots into food across the planet to slowly take over the minds and bodies of everyone here. Sonota grabbed something from the computer and took off. I think the ICP only has a small reach for now, but it’s trying to get a larger following."

  "That would explain why I can't reach this terminal," said Zander, giving up on the computer and turning to me. "We need to stop the ICP from broadcasting."

  "Broadcasting what?"

  "You said it yourself." He jumped up, taking off his security helmet and tossing it to the side. He ripped off his body armor, too. An immortal didn't need it. "The ICP needs more people. A wider reach. It has a way into everyone on the planet. Now it just needs to talk to them, take over. They need to broadcast a signal that can reach everyone."

  I was fully dressed now. It was nice being back in jeans and a t-shirt with my feet firmly set in fresh All Stars. I almost felt normal. Almost.

  I reached into my bag and clutched the trusty little orange bottle. Hello, Prozac, my old friend. I tipped a pill into my palm and threw it down my throat, instantly feeling reassured.

  "Satellites?" I replaced the lid and hid the bottle in the duffel bag.

  "Quite possibly." He took Itzi's gun out of its holster and checked it for ammo before pocketing it. "But with the way this city is set up, the ICP needs an incredibly large antenna to reach its satellites through the noise."

  "Where's the largest antenna around here?" Blayde asked, taking off her costume as well. She was in the same clothes I had seen her in when I left her.

  "The roof?" I asked.

  Laughter exploded through the room—mostly from one person. I glared at Blayde, as did Zander.

  "Come on, Sally." She struggled to force her words out through fits of laughter. "Is that something you see a lot of in fiction on your planet? ‘Oh, look, let's use the roof as an antenna—without calculating its spread or making sure it's not going to get interference from the surrounding environment. Yes, quite. Now let's spend our money on changing the climate and pushing the species to extinction. Oh, so fun.’"

  "I meant," I snapped, tired of her bullshit already, "I meant the antenna could be on the roof, not the roof itself. I'm not an idiot."

  "Oh," Blayde replied then moved on. Zander, however, had a nice laugh waiting for her. She glared back at him. Boo yeah.

  "I told you not to underestimate her. You know as well as I do she's probably right. The roof's the first place we should check."

  "Well then." Blayde pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. It was short and looked like a shaving brush, but it wasn't up there for aesthetic reasons. No, this was Blayde when she meant business.

  And just like that, she took off. She rushed out the door and disappeared around the corner. Zander grabbed the duffel bag and reached for my hand. He pulled me after her.

  Relief flowed over me like a wave. Sure, we were running after an AI intent on destroying us all, but somehow this felt right. I had never felt safer.

  We caught up to Blayde, dashing through the dark corridors of the palace. But this time, I wasn't being dragged by two insane mobsters intent on keeping me hostage.

  Blayde flew straight through the wall, as if she knew the secret door would be there. We followed her, and I was back inside the corridor I had been in earlier. There they were: the lovers, out of their embrace, one with her double jaw opening and closing and the other glaring at us with her slobbery face.

  And they were fast approaching.

  "Sorry," Blayde muttered as she socked the double-jawed alien. She toppled backward, crashing into her secret date, and together they fell to the ground, moaning like television ghosts. Blayde leaped over them.

  Zander tightened his grip around my hand, and, without any time passing, we were on the other side of the corridor. He had jumped. I wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the fact that part of the corridor has skipped like a poorly recorded movie.

  I looked back over my shoulder at the two lovers writhing on the floor in confusion. The ICP had a poor hold over them. They couldn't function without commands, it seemed. They were flailing, useless, unable to think for themselves.

  Zander tugged, and I sped up, turning to look where I was going rather than holding him back. Blayde was already at the stairs. And then Zander and I were behind her, my legs shouting in pain as we took the steps two at a time.

  "Why ... are we ... taking ... the stairs?" I panted. As if suddenly remembering I wasn't like them, Zander grabbed me around the waist and effortlessly tossed me over his shoulder. I didn't complain.

  Blayde shoved the door to the roof open with a bang. We rushed onto the flat surface on top of the pyramid portion of the palace. The dome stretched out before us like an anthill that wouldn't quit. Zander put me down.

  "Well, that's definitely some antennas." Blayde pointed to the top of the dome. I had already seen them—a dozen spirals soaring to the heavens. I smiled internally; it was nice t
o be right for once.

  "Admit it, Blayde," said Zander, giving me a playful punch in the shoulder. "Sally has this whole planet-saving thing down."

  "It was a hunch, and it paid off without wasting any of our time. I guess I'll go up there and unplug it. I do like it when there's more to it than just unplugging a wire. Like, when there's someone to fight. Or a whole army. Those are the days I sleep like a baby."

  “You mean waking up every hour to throw a fit?” I asked.

  “Is that how Terran babies sleep?” She sounded aghast. “Shit. No wonder your planet sucks at keeping it together.”

  "Blayde, um," Zander muttered, tapping her shoulder and pointing out the flatness of the roof. "How do I put this? You're going to love this part. Sally, you're probably not."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Time to save the world, again. Now, with Lasers!

  "They look like zombies," I muttered.

  The hoard on the pyramid’s roof had a deep, dead look in their eyes, like they were there but not really. Their skin lacked that certain tinge of pink that reminded you they were living and breathing. Well, except for the man on the far right, who was stumbling on seven deep-blue legs, though I was pretty sure you could find something a little undead about him too. They took their steps at the same time, giving them more of a methodical march than their real undead counterparts, making it painfully obvious that something bigger than them was now in control.

  The woman in the lead, who repeatedly ran into one of the brain-dead security guards, wore a lavish silk dress covered in lime green juice. The thing—minus the juice—would probably have cost me my life savings, yet she didn't seem to notice or mind that was she was ruining it or that she was soaking wet.

  "You know, you don't have to whisper," Zander said. "They probably can't actually hear you. Blayde?"

  "Hey, I'm going, I'm going." Blayde glowered at him, making a move toward the dome. "How come you always get to do the fun stuff?"

  "Because. You want to trade or something?"

  "Um, guys? I think they've seen us.

  A pack of mayoral security guards shuffled toward us, their feet in sync—left right, left right. They extended their guns at the same time, a line of metal glinting in the light. The woman in the expensive dress marched with them, her hand out but empty. What she was doing up here in the first place, I didn't know and probably would never find out.

  I shivered. "Why don't I climb up there? Both of you can fight, if that settles the argument?"

  "You really think you can climb that dome?" Blayde shook her head. "No. One of us has to go. We can jump right up. You can't."

  "Go," Zander ordered, but she didn't run. They pulled out their fists and slapped their palms together. Before I could see the verdict, Blayde was gone, having either lost or won, I couldn't tell which.

  Zander took a solid stance at my side, pulling out Itzi's stolen weapon and cocking it. It was strange, despite everything I knew about him, to see him holding such a dangerous thing. It looked foreign in his hands, alien. Yet he held it like he was born with it clutched between his fingers.

  "What do I do?" The security force edged closer toward us from their stations. The woman squeezed her brandished fist, as if to pull a trigger, but didn't seem aware that she wasn't producing anything. "I don't exactly, well, fight. Not like—"

  "Blayde?" He called up the dome. She was making good progress, jumping a few meters at a time then stopping to lean against the dome to keep her balance on the rounded slope. "Sally needs a weapon."

  "Catch." Something flew at my face so fast I barely saw it move. I caught it mid-air, the cool metal of her laser pointer resting in the heat of my sweaty palm. It was about the size of a small lipstick tube, or a large bullet, with two dials on the side, tiny gears worn on the edges from years upon years of use.

  Relief washed over me. Now this I could use. I knew her laser; it had helped me fight off my alien boss two years earlier when this whole mess began. It was comforting to have in my hand, and to know neither of them expected me to actually shoot anyone.

  "And take good care of it!" she ordered, now completely out of view. Her voice drifted on the wind like a command from heaven itself.

  "What do I do?" I whispered, running my thumb over the dials.

  "Point and disarm," Zander said calmly. "Stop them from going for Blayde."

  As powerful as the device could be, I felt ridiculous with such a tiny weapon. The hoard advanced. March. March. They shuffled toward us at a slow rate, but it was awfully ominous. The weaponless woman on the end continued to squeeze her fake gun.

  "Disable their gun hand. Then I can finish them off."

  "Finish them off?"

  "Knock them out."

  "Violent."

  "Beats dead." Zander shrugged. "Besides, you can't really talk to them, now can you?" Stepping forward, he put both hands in the air, an image of surrender. "Hey, you there, don't shoot! Don't come any closer."

  But they advanced onwards, oblivious to his words. Zander leveled his gun, holding them in his sights.

  "They're cogs in a machine, Sally. They won't remember any of this once we put it right."

  He aimed at one man and shot him. The gun must have been set to stun since no bullets whizzed through the air, but it barely had any effect. The man stumbled but kept moving forward. Already unconscious under the ICP's control, stunning him would be a useless endeavor.

  Zander took a shot, one loud, resonating shot, and the man in the middle of the horde dropped his gun. The man’s hand turned red, yet he still squeezed the air, like the weaponless woman on the end.

  "This will have to do. Hands. Kneecaps. Legs. They'll hurt like hell when they wake up, but they'll be looked after and put right."

  I clutched the pointer, trying to pick a target. I had nothing against these people. I didn't want to hurt them.

  But then they shot at us, and everything changed.

  I ducked, screaming in terror. The sound of their weapons firing all at once was deafening. Zander swore as a bullet ripped through his right shoulder. He tossed his gun into his other hand and kept firing. Blood seeped through his shirt as I watched in horror.

  "We have to cover Blayde. If they find her, and she falls, we'll lose any advantage we had. Come on, Sally!"

  They had hurt my friend. They had shot at me. I aimed the laser and shouted as I fired, but all that happened was that a red light showed up on the man’s chest—not where I was aiming—and bounced as he moved.

  "Zander, I'm fighting with a penlight!" I said, feeling hot tears of frustration on my face.

  Holy shit, what was I doing here? Why was I on this roof, on this stupid fucking planet? I wanted to run, get away, but my trembling knees wouldn't budge. I would fight or die here tonight.

  "The lower dial controls the intensity." How he kept his mind level at a time like this when all I wanted to do was scream was beyond me. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. His arm had stopped bleeding, but the red spot on his shirt wasn't going anywhere. "Turn it up but not too far, like an eighth of a turn or something. Keep your cool. This will be over soon."

  I nodded, taking a deep breath as I turned the dial. The group shot again, and this time Zander and I dodged their bullets. They shot in a straight line, so all we had to do was duck.

  I hit a man square on the hand and watched the smoke rise as his skin sizzled. He dropped the gun, his face expressionless, and kept marching forward. Disarmed.

  "Did I get them?" Blayde’s voice was faint, like she was shouting in the breeze.

  "They're still marching," Zander replied.

  And now they had heard her.

  Instantly, half of the group turned to the dome and started to climb. They pushed themselves up, making good time as they took after Blayde.

  "Shit," Zander muttered. "Blayde! They're coming!"

  "What about now?"

  Nothing. Zander sent out three shots, trying to dislodge the men on the dome, but it was no u
se. They slipped down then picked themselves back up and kept going.

  "Um, Zander?" I risked a glance over the edge of the palace. The pyramid was crawling with people now. The party-goers were somehow climbing the smooth façade to come up and meet us. In the pack, I saw Sekai, her large eyes now lifeless, one hand over the other as she scrambled to come up and kill us.

  Oh, Sekai. We said we'd meet again under better circumstances.

  "Focus on these men for now," Zander insisted. "We'll get there when we get there."

  This is all a dream, I told myself. It had to be. A vivid one. I had been waiting back in my apartment for Zander to show up; drank too strong a tea, or maybe something else entirely; and fallen asleep on the couch. This was my brain's way of purging him from my memories. Giving me a goodbye, closure, as I had wanted for these past two painful years.

  Odd way for it to happen, though, making me see him as a ruthless soldier.

  "Now?" Blayde was annoyed now, furious.

  "Still nada."

  Zander furrowed his brow and shot again. Bam, bam, bam. He dropped three men faster than before, the shots so close together they sounded like one. He wasn't aiming for hands anymore. Three men fell from the ranks, their legs busted. Only they kept walking, which made them spin on the ground like confused flies. I would have laughed if it wasn't so unsettling.

  Bam bam bam.

  Laser laser laser? Pew pew pew? The little pointer made no noise when I pressed the button, but it was effective. Silent but deadly, only minus the deadly when I was in charge of it.

  "How 'bout now?"

  "Still coming strong!" Zander shouted, equally frustrated. The woman in the fancy dress tripped over one of the spinning men, taking one of the soldiers down with her as she fell. Now they were rolling on the floor too, their legs still marching in the air before them, going nowhere.

  There was the crackle of electricity, a harsh snap as connections were ripped out all at once.

  "That's all of them,” Blayde called. “They down?"

  "Still marching! You sure you got everything?"

  "Positive." Out came a swear that couldn't be translated. "Wrong antennas!"