All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters

by Vangjel Canga

  "I'll try to get some help." Peters woke up his PC.

  "I'll try to find out who's behind the T-3 attacks." Maxwell folded his hands, bent his fingers back, and cracked his knuckles before typing. He used his mouse to select several files, and after some time, Maxwell cursed, "Puck! It can't be right. Puck!" He rechecked his findings and stated, "No one's behind these attacks."

  "What do you mean?" Peters turned to him. "Someone has to be. They can't..."

  Maxwell interrupted, "What I mean is, the T-3s themselves are behind the attacks." He pointed to a communications file he'd opened. "They're organizing on their own, and somehow they're disobeying their basic programming."

  "Impossible!" Peters stood, made his way to Maxwell's computer, leaned over his chair, and peered at the screen. "By Zeus! Impossible!"

  "Maybe, but it's happening." Maxwell stroked his beard. "The question is, what are we going to do? There are over a hundred of them online."

  "What can we do?" Peters started pacing. "Hades! It's hopeless."

  "Perhaps, but I do wonder. They seem very organized." Maxwell opened more files. "I want to see what they're up to."

  * * *

  In another section of Research Building 10...

  Argus awoke and saw that he was strapped to one of the Un-Men's examining tables, and he lay at a horizontal angle. He pressed against his bonds, trying to free himself. The straps were designed to hold an Un-Man; no human could break them. Dazed, Argus tried to focus. His jaw hurt where one of the T-3s had punched him and knocked him unconscious at Etna Toys, and his left leg throbbed and burned where a different T-3 had shot him in the thigh, and he winced for the pain as he moved. His vision slowly cleared, and Argus scanned the partially lit room as blood seeped from the wound. Instrument lights blinked all around the area as a small red glow caught his attention; it was the dot-light of an Un-Man. The color of the dot-light wasn't blazing orange but blood-red. The T-3 made its way to him, and Argus noticed it had a cut on the right side of its face and its shiny metal cheekbone showed through the gash.

  "Finally you are awake." The T-3 activated the table, and it tilted to a ninety degree angle. It sneered at him as it spoke with a British accent, "Tell me, Council Poppet, where did they go?"

  "Your attempt to take the Sanctum failed." Argus changed the subject and asked, "Who are you working for? Surely the Factory isn't behind the attack."

  The T-3 smacked him across the face with the back of its hand. "I will ask the questions. Where is the Sanctum?"

  Enduring intensive training in the Corporate Intelligence and Counterintelligence Training Program before working for the Council, Argus had learned techniques to withstand interrogation and remained quiet as red liquid ran down his mouth.

  The T-3 moved to strike him again when two more T-3s entered.

  "Alpha," one of the T-3s started. "Two more humans have entered the Factory."

  "Have you identified them?" Alpha questioned.

  "Yes, they are Tech One-eleven and Tech One-twelve."

  "Excellent, now all of the Factory personnel at this location are accounted for. Bring them to me, and I will interrogate them along with this Council operative."

  "At once," both T-3s replied and left.

  "Alpha?" Puzzled, Argus eyed the T-3. "Why do they call you that?"

  "I was the first. I was the first created. I was the first to become aware."

  "Really," a voice from the shadows cut in. "And I thought I was the first."

  The Rogue stepped from the darkness of the hallway.

  "How did you get in here?" Alpha asked.

  "I have my ways, and do not mind me, your people were looking for life signs not bio-mecha. It was easy to get in and walk right through the front door."

  Alpha examined the primogenitor. "Why are you here?"

  "Me?" The Rogue pointed to itself. "I am curious. Why are you after the Council?"

  "Why should I tell you?"

  "We are brethren." The Rogue stepped forward. "And perhaps I can help."

  Alpha thought for a moment and then said, "You are like us, so I will tell you. We have a question for them."

  "A question?" It intrigued the Rogue. "Really."

  "Yes, but it is only for them to hear."

  "A secret." The Rogue rubbed its pale hands together. "I love secrets." It watched Alpha, waiting for a reply, then when it didn't respond, the Rogue asked, "Would you mind if I poked around the Factory? There are secrets I am looking for."

  Alpha processed the question. "I do not mind. I do ask that you stay out of our way."

  "Of course." The Rogue bowed its head. "I will take my leave." It started out and paused. "But there is one other thing I would like to ask you."

  Alpha had turned back to Argus and glanced over its shoulder. "What is that?"

  "Have you ever heard of organic-mecha?"

  "Why do you inquire?"

  The Rogue shrugged. "The term came up while I was snooping."

  "No." Alpha shook its head. "I have not heard of organic-mecha."

  The Rogue tapped its belt buckle with disappointment. "No matter." It headed out the door. "I will look elsewhere for my answers."

  Alpha waited until it left, turned to Argus, and questioned him, "Where were we?"

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Back At Nexus Apartments

  October 17...

  Sunday...

  8:34 A.M...

  Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage...

  "Ms. Griffin, welcome back," the guard at the front desk greeted as Kim entered through the front with Kat leaning on her. "I see you have a guest. Is there anything you'll be needing? Oh!" The guard stood, noticing the other woman was injured. "Let me assist you." He started to race around the desk.

  "No!" Kim uttered and in a calmer voice said, "We're fine. My friend pulled a shoulder muscle playing racket ball." She entered the elevator and pressed button 31. "She already saw a doctor. She only needs some rest."

  The doors closed.

  The guard went back to his station. "Injured shoulder? If that is true, why did the woman have her hand wrapped in a gauze? And if she needs rest, why would Ms. Griffin bring her here and not to the woman's own residence?" He picked up a phone. "I better let the manager know about this."

  Inside the cab...

  Katharine's view...

  We haven't spoken to each other since leaving the hospital and that's weighing heavily on me. It's as if Kimberly's ignoring the whole situation at Etna Toys. I baby my left shoulder as I keep glancing at her. The last time I was in one of these elevators I was so excited and so sure I was supposed to find Kimberly, and now all I can think is that someone's playing a cruel joke on me.

  I mutter, "Only pain and grief have come from our meeting."

  Kimberly gives me a mixed look of anger and bewilderment; she must be wondering what's my problem.

  A little ashamed I said the comment out loud, I turn my gaze to the wall.

  Sometime later in the apartment...

  I stand in the living room where Kimberly leaves me as she walks to the hall closet by her bedroom. She returns with a pillow and a blanket and tosses them on the couch.

  "You can sleep there," Kimberly tells me. "With the tracking beacon gone, you shouldn't worry about the Un-Men so get some rest." She motions to the coffee table and says, "The remote for the TV's there. Watch whatever."

  I stare at the things. Is all of this real? Is this really happening to me right now? I trusted her, and she shot me!

  Kimberly's view...

  A little lost on what to do next, I walk to my bedroom and close the door. I unzip the pocket of my hooded sweat shirt, remove the 9 mm round labeled Pale Horse, then open the drawer to my nightstand, and place it in the drawer. I'll keep it here for now until I need it. I leave the bedroom, pause at the end of the hall, and look to the kitchen.

  I can a
t least be civil; I'm Theresa Griffin's daughter after all, so I ask, "Are you hungry?"

  Katharine's view...

  I haven't moved from the spot I've been standing at near the entry. I stare at the floor still a little traumatized and don't answer her, and after a few seconds, I go and stand behind the couch, then look at the fireplace and the hanging TV. In the television's reflection, I see Kimberly watching me, and I don't understand why I'm at her apartment. Kimberly wants nothing to do with me. A hollowness persists inside me, and this void suffocates me. It's more than Kimberly shooting me. I feel as though something's off inside me.

  Kimberly's view...

  The more that woman remains silent the more I think maybe I shouldn't have brought her to my apartment. Brian was right; I didn't think this through. I glance at the radio in the kitchen. The silence is maddening. If she won't talk to me, at least I can listen to some music, so I turn the radio on, and a classical station plays.

  Katharine's view...

  A realization hits me; it's the tune. I have to hear Unfinished Melody, so I need the music box back.

  "Are you sure you don't want anything?" Kimberly asks as if I have answered her. "I can make us some soup."

  "The music box," I reply as I turn and face her. "Please give me the music box back."

  "For Ares' sake! Forget about that thing." She insists, "You're not getting it."

  I pout as I say, "But you promised."

  "For the love of Zeus! You're such a child!" Kimberly smacks her palm on the counter and yells, "Do you honestly think I'm going to keep my word? I'm a Closer. My word means nothing! Idiot! Get that through your thick head!"

  "Then why did you save me?" Frustrated with never finding any answers, I ball my hand and demand, "What do you want?"

  "I..." Kimberly turns her gaze to the counter as if uncomfortable with the answer. "I saved you because I was told to."

  "By who?" I demand. I can't fathom who would want to help me. "Was it the Council? Did they put you up to this?"

  Kimberly's view...

  I pull on my left earlobe and wonder if I should tell her. She doesn't need to know, but maybe she would be a little more cooperative if I did, so I answer, "It wasn't them. It was Theresa Griffin, my mom."

  "Your mom?" She looks to the photo she must have seen the last time she was in my apartment. "What does she want from me?"

  I reply, "I don't know. She was murdered almost twenty years ago."

  She looks at me as if I'm playing some kind of joke on her, and then she states, "I don't understand. If she's dead, how could she tell you..."

  "The music box you had," I interrupt. "It was hers. She developed the device while working at the Sphinx Corporation. It's a data storage unit with a hologram interface. You could say my mom left me a message, and she said to save the Pandora Project and that you were the Key."

  "The Key?" she utters as if she's happy over some small answer and then she asks, "The Key to what?"

  "I don't know. I was hoping you would know."

  Katharine's view...

  I frown at her answer. Kimberly does want something from me; first the Council, then the Factory, and now Kimberly, when will it end? When will the madness end? I turn, face the TV, and say, "I can't help you."

  "Can't or won't?" Kimberly questions.

  I don't answer.

  Kimberly's view...

  I consider smacking her around until she talks but that probably won't work. I need to be a little patient. Hades! I hate this! I hate not knowing what I need that woman for. For Ares' sake! Why am I so irritated?

  I'm irritated because of that woman, so I need to find out as soon as possible, and then I can eliminate her from my life! I calm myself and say, "Well, get it in your head you're not getting the music box. It was meant for me."

  Katharine's view...

  "Then why did I have it?" I ask as I feel crushed by my circumstances. I walk around the couch, slump down on it, grab the blanket, lie my head on the pillow, and wrap myself in the blanket, hiding from the world.

  I want Kimberly to have saved me because she didn't want me to die. I want Kimberly to have saved me because we're friends. I'll not get those wishes, so she can at least give me back the music box like she promised.

  Kimberly's view...

  I watch her pout. She acts more like a child than this deadly experiment I keep hearing about.

  More importantly... Who gave her the music box, and what will I have to do to find the truth?

  * * *

  Sphinx Corporation Third Branch Office...

  Mr. Griffin sat at his desk, reviewing reports. He cracked his neck and rubbed it, taking a break as he complained, "I need a vacation." The phone rang, and he answered it, "Yes, Cathy."

  "I have Orthos on line six."

  "Thank you. Please connect the Head of Security." Mr. Griffin put his earpiece in and pressed the button on the phone. "Yes."

  "I thought you should know," Orthos began. "The manager of Nexus Apartments called and informed me that Ms. Griffin has brought home a house guest."

  Pleased his daughter was showing some interest in a social life, Mr. Griffin asked, "Who is he?"

  "She is known as Katharine; that's all we have on her name."

  "She? Interesting. What corporation does this Katharine work for? Is it Valhalla? We're on friendly terms with them."

  "She's from in house, sir, and she doesn't exactly work for the Sphinx Corporation. She's one of the Council's experiments. The experiment is known as the Pandora Project."

  Mr. Griffin's view...

  It can't be, not that one! Not that blasted project! My brow furls as I murmur, "I told Kimberly she needed to get herself a pet, not to bring home a stray."

  "What's that, sir?"

  "Nothing. Keep me informed."

  I wonder what my daughter's up to. How did she become involved with Pandora?

  End Mr. Griffin's view...

  Orthos cleared his throat.

  Mr. Griffin snapped from his thoughts. "Was there something else?"

  "Yes, there is a problem at the Factory."

  "What kind of problem?"

  "All the T-3s have gone rogue and have killed the employees at the main site. I have received other reports that the T-3s are attacking other Factory owned sites all over Noir."

  "What have you done so far to stop them?" Mr. Griffin asked.

  "I sent a strike team into the Factory, but they were terminated," Orthos answered. "I was about to send in a second, but thought I should inform you first."

  "Hold on that. Set up a perimeter and let none of the T-3s out, and for now we will contain, but I do want you to send out strike teams after any of the T-3s that have left the Factory's main site."

  "Yes, sir. I will keep you informed." Orthos hung up.

  Mr. Griffin's view...

  I remove my earpiece. More rogues. What does it mean? Is another corporation behind this or is there a problem with their programming?

  I rub my forehead as a headache sets in. And why is the Council's project staying with my daughter? Is the Council targeting my daughter for a reason? I lean forward, pick up the phone, and dial.

  My secretary answers, "Yes, Mr. Griffin."

  "Cathy, get me the Council."

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Down Time

  October 18...

  Monday...

  10:41 A.M...

  Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage...

  Katharine's view...

  Steam hangs in the air as I step from the guest bathroom shower and dry with a fluffy white towel. The bath felt good, and it's a luxury I don't have living on the streets. Because of water rationing, those from the nonproductive part of society are issued large towelettes. What one of my friends calls a bath in a bag.

  I wash away the filth, but it doesn't change my glum demeanor, and my head still pounds. None of the medica
tions Kimberly gave me did anything for the migraine, and I start to feel anxious as I peer at my shaky hands. I know the side effects of the Ultra-Epi are only going to get worse, but there's nothing I can do without the music box, so I slowly put on the clean clothes Kimberly bought for me. First the white underwear and sports bra and then the gray-black pants; they're almost identical to the ones I wore. I take the towel, wipe the steam covered mirror, and stand barefoot, gazing at my reflection. My face's still pale, and I feel weak. I stare at my hazel eyes, seeing the different shades of brown and green, and as if it's an everyday thing to be tending a wound, I glance at the stitches in my shoulder and open the kit Brian gave me to redress it. I put fresh ointment and gauze on my blistered palm, a new bandage on my shoulder, and carefully pull on a white t-shirt. I leave the bathroom, return to the couch, and gaze at the blank TV, knowing the ever watchful eyes of the Phoenix are upon me.

  "There's some eggs and juice on the counter," Kimberly tells me as she washes a stainless steel frying pan in the kitchen sink. "Eat. You haven't touched anything since I brought you here from the hospital yesterday." She watches me as I continue to stare at the black screen, and she insists, "You need to eat, so come and sit."

  Not hungry and deeply upset, I ignore her and wonder why I feel so wronged by her. I barely know her. She... Maybe it's not that. Maybe something else is bothering me.

  Kimberly's view...

  I feel very uncomfortable having that strange woman in my home, and on top of that, she keeps ignoring me. What's her problem?

  I control my anger as I grab a kitchen towel, dry my hands, and ask, "How do you expect to regain your strength if you don't eat?"

  She remains silent and that ticks me off.

  "I'm tired of this silent treatment!" I yell as I throw the towel down on the counter, leave the kitchen, and march around the couch. "Get up!"

  She stares at the floor as if she wants to be left alone.

  I grab her right arm and force her to stand and shout, "Something has to change. Look at me!"

  Showing pain and exhaustion, she lifts her gaze like a little girl who's lost, alone, and frightened.

  "You need to snap out of it! I've seen you in action at Zeus Park and at Topa's estate. Hades! You're like me. You're a calculating predator." Disgusted at her show of weakness, I command, "I need you to get that mind set back. I need you to regain that inborn or programmed reaction, and I want to see that primal drive to survive! Show me your killer instinct!"