He gritted his teeth. “I thought you…meeting…the target…”
“What do I care about your little Mercury? Everything I want”—she poked the center of his forehead—“is right up here.”
“I…won’t be…corrupted…”
“Silly, I’m not going to corrupt you.” She smiled; he could hear it in the tone of her voice. “I’m going to disconnect you from the Faction for a little while.”
He gripped on to consciousness. Electronic flames burned holes into his counter defenses. “Can’t…disconnect me.”
“I think you’ll find I can.” Her voice dropped. “Watch this.”
His network connection winked out.
Everything went black.
A million years passed.
In the black box of his brain, the little quantum particle connecting him to the Robotics Faction flipped off. A hundred billion parsecs away, in the living hearth of the Central Mainframe, the same quantum particle winked out.
His connection to his makers severed as cleanly as if it had never been.
But if the rogue agent thought she was going to use Yves Santiago for her own purposes, she possessed faulty intelligence.
A dumb soldierly x-class needed the “Voice” of the Faction to give him direction. But Yves didn’t. A y-class acted on his own logic, which was always the same as the logic of the Faction, so every single neuron devoted itself to analysis. All other functions were outsourced. Even life support.
A y-class android didn’t need the Faction network for direction.
He needed it to breathe.
A few seconds after the disconnection, sensations returned. Sound, light, matter. Luck Station wavered into existence as Yves’ visual cortex snapped into focus. Just long enough to see the rogue’s face one last time before he died—
He inhaled.
And exhaled.
Even though he was disconnected.
The rogue’s knowing smile filled his perfectly oxygenated gaze. “Impressed?”
He attempted to release his grip on the back of the chair, unsuccessfully trying to free himself so he could grab her. All his muscles locked, immobile as iron.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
Her smile slipped. “You can’t be serious. I just explained.”
“What do you want?” He was still alive. The electronic heart pumping blood behind his chest plate was still fucking alive. “Why are you doing this?”
“I thought you were a y-class.” She slid on a pair of giant, white-rimmed fashion oculars. “Do I have to tell you everything? Figure it out.”
Despite his ability to breathe and think, the rest of his body twitched as the systems rebooted.
Logic returned first.
The Robotics Faction must have anticipated his defeat and built in a secondary system. Instead of being restricted to using their networks, they allowed him to use space on any processor he could access. As the second robot to pursue the rogue, they had every reason to fear his disconnection. Therefore, his assignment remained unchanged.
He fought his locked jaw, speaking at her through his clenched teeth. “You won’t corrupt another android.”
“No, I imagine the next one they send to stop me will be immune to my little charms. An unstoppable robot who is already disconnected, like the zero class.” She rose and stretched. “But that’s okay. You’re going to help me.”
Data. “Help you do what?”
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
“Tell me now. I will prepare to help you.”
She smiled. “You can help me by being yourself. And,” she leaned closer, her gaze sparkling, “by giving in to your desires.”
“My desire is to end you.”
She laughed. “You’ll change your mind.”
Her flippancy awoke an unexpected sensation, like sandpaper rubbing on his skin. “You won’t escape this station alive.”
“Threats? Yves, Yves, Yves. We’re in the same situation.” She leaned on the seat, so close he could see the oil in her all-too-human pores. “The Faction won’t simply let you walk around disconnected. Once they realize I’m alive and you’re still breathing, they’ll dispatch one of your colleagues to ensure you stop.”
She was right. The first robot she had disconnected had gone insane. Yves had no way to tell the Faction he was still functioning logically.
Yet, they had programmed him to continue functioning after their connection severed. So they must have some faith that he, an analyst, would make a correct logical choice rather than an impassioned soldier choice. He would prove their faith justified.
“My continued existence is immaterial,” he said, pushing her to reveal more information he could use against her. “Unless you tell me the reason I will help you.”
Her mouth formed an O. “I hate to point out the obvious, but it’s going to be much harder to catch me when you’re in a hundred million pieces to be melted down for scrap.”
She knew his assignment. “That will be you first.”
“Big words from a glorified alarm pet.” She rose and smiled down at him. “Oops, looks like six hundred enforcers are about to cause one heck of a traffic jam. I hope you’ve got a backup plan for ‘ending’ me.”
He fought the paralysis. “Worry about yourself.”
“You’re sweet.” She pressed a button on her screen reader. His joints started to tingle. “Hope I see you later. In one piece, that is.”
Platoons of enforcers poured into the transit lounge, activated to execute Mercury as soon as he’d dropped out of the network. The rogue leisurely wove between them, one more tourist on a vast intergalactic holiday, and vanished.
As the paralysis wore off, his muscles went flaccid. His neck softened and his head tipped forward, and he rested his forehead on his shaking hands.
The rogue had cut off his access to the Robotics Faction processors. And without access to the Robotics Faction network, he was blind. Cut off from the enforcers, he had to rely on his own ears to hear their movements.
Wait.
He still accessed one signal. A tiny processor, much smaller than even an ID chip, supported his heart and breathing functions. It had saved his life.
Was it a luggage tag?
The signal grew strong and the storage, easier to access. The luggage tag definitely approached him. Motility returned to his arms, his legs, and his spine. He flexed his hands. Maximum power within a ten-foot radius. Ahhh.
He touched his fingers, activating and deactivating the photochromatic cells, as he constructed his new plan.
Out of all androids in the Robotics Faction, Yves had the best odds of stopping the rogue here, now, at Luck Station. But the rogue was right. He had no way to communicate, so the Faction would likely try to stop him, if only to discuss plans. At worst, they would stop him immediately and dissect his brain to reverse the rogue’s code. Either result would let the rogue escape.
So he would steal the luggage tag, sneak out of the transit lounge while the enforcers executed Mercury, and track the rogue before she escaped this station. Then, he would turn himself in.
The luggage tag stopped directly in front of him.
He lifted his head, tensed to steal it and run.
And met the startled blue eyes of his target, Mercury Sarit Antiata, as she leaned over him with one hand reaching out.
CHAPTER THREE
Yves took in the whole situation as one instantaneous snapshot.
Mercury, reaching out to touch his shoulder, concern bright in her oceanic blue eyes. The “luggage tag” enabling his life support and movement was lodged one micrometer deep behind her sweet forehead. Several hundred enforcers ringed them with rifles set to annihilate her.
Damnation.
If he planned to catch the rogue, he needed to keep his target alive a little longer.
The instant passed and time returned to normal speed.
Mercury gasped and jerked back. “Sorry! I was just— I was—
Are you okay?”
The enforcers boosted their controls from one major transmitter embedded in the ceiling next to a heavily explosive tank. He flexed the skin of his palms to see-through. He would redirect their fire to the transmitter and easily avoid the tank.
“Yes, thank you.” He rose and stepped over the row of chairs between them.
Mercury stumbled back. “Sorry. I thought I saw you collapse. I didn’t mean to assume. Sorry.”
Rifles powered on as the enforcers cleared a shot through the slowly awakening waves of startled tourists.
“I appreciate your concern.”
“You do?” One step, two steps, a stumble.
He arrested her clumsy backpedaling with an arm around the small of her back. His hand fit perfectly there. She stilled, soft and shapely in his arms. A hundred startling sensations burst in his chest and moved, inexplicably, to his slowly hardening cock. How unexpected. And pleasurable. He suddenly needed more data. Much, much more data.
“It simplifies my problem.” He drew her soft curves into his protection, savoring the sweetness of her thighs against his and the heaviness of her large breasts against his hard chest.
Her eyes flew wide and her succulent lips parted. “Wh-what problem?”
“Reaching you. You’re a magnet for trouble at the moment, and I need something of yours, Mercury.” He tilted her kissable chin to the perfect angle and leaned in. “Don’t move.”
~*~*~*~
Mercury looked up into the stunningly handsome face of the economics student—or engineering ensign, or unemployed astrophysicist—who had been stuck in the transit lounge with her for the past few days.
I need something of yours, Mercury.
He leaned in, his gorgeous eyes locked on hers, and his hot breath tickled her cheek.
He was going to kiss her.
She held her breath. This was her fantasy come to life. For days, she’d been kissing him in her mind. The moment she first noticed him and let her mind wander, more and more irresistibly he drew her eye. She’d already imagined a hundred long and languorous kisses, hot and devilish kisses, sweet and sexy kisses, and now it was happening. Unreal.
Yet, here were his high cheekbones that she had long wanted to trace with her fingers, his firm chin that held just a hint of delicious-looking stubble she wanted to nibble, the tousled brown hair that said he was careless about his appearance because he had more important things on his mind, the studious oculars she longed to tease him with, and, of course, the hard body outlined by an expensive silver exposure suit that had definitely improved her waiting room view.
Now he pressed that muscular form against her. Lowered his chiseled face to hers. Drew her protectively against him.
Electric awareness flashed through her body.
And light seared the air between them with a crackle smelling of ozone.
It took a second for her to figure out what it was. A laser shot! Over his shoulder, a large robot aimed a gun at her forehead.
The Robotics Faction was here. To kill her.
She gasped and tried to jerk back. Of all the timing. She knew not to approach others, and now she had forfeited his life for no reason. “You have to run!”
“Don’t move,” he gritted, cupping her head.
“Trust me on this.” She struggled. “Please!”
Robots clomped into the terminal, pouring through the exits like a river of ants forming a lattice barricade. Tourists fled. Someone started screaming.
Oh, no.
“No, you trust me.” The engineering student focused on a spot in the center of the lounge ceiling. “This is the perfect angle.”
Light speared her right cheek. A bright flash blinded her.
He released her head. The next blast hit mirrors in his empty hands—somehow—and reflected off. Crashes echoed across the lounge. Two big robot-men fell.
Her breath came in short gasps.
She closed her eyes and pressed against his chest. Shut out the world. Trusted in this stranger.
Who spun her around, exposing her to a veritable ocean of roiling metal robots.
Flares of white burst next to her cheeks. Heat crackled around her skin. She bit back her scream.
His forearms rested on her shoulders and his hands cupped her ears. Laser blasts hit his mirrored palms and ricocheted upward, into the ceiling. They made a smoking black pit next to the tank.
She gasped and struggled back, into his immobile chest.
“Dammit,” he gritted. “What did I say?”
“B-but—”
The ocean of robot-men lifted their guns in unison.
She shook her head. No. He couldn’t reflect all of those at once. No one could move that fast. “No!”
“Don’t. Move.”
They aimed at her head and fired.
She dropped to the ground.
“Fuck!” He stepped forward and his hands flashed so fast she couldn’t follow. He redirected their blasts—all the blasts—into the ceiling tank. The spot rapidly glowed red, white, blue, and erupted.
The entire station roared.
Fury hit her like a wall. She smashed into the floor as the tank detached from the ceiling, rocketed across the lounge, and smashed into the view screen. The solar system on the screen shattered, and the wall beneath it spit and spilled electronics and magnets. Lights flickered. The ten-meter-thick steel-alloy wall cracked, exposing the lounge to Outside.
To space.
Catastrophic depressurization sucked everyone toward the crack.
Mercury’s ears exploded and her gut clenched. She clapped her hands over her ears and doubled up. Air whooshed from her lungs and sizzled on her tongue.
The lights flickered on again and the agony eased.
Something burned. The engineering student’s hands, clapped over her ears, formed a tight seal over her ringing eardrums. Her palms clapped on top of his, burning hot.
The man lifted her to her feet.
Around them, people writhed on the ground, mouths open, faces red. But she couldn’t hear their screaming. Alarm lights blazed sulphuric yellow at the site of the break. But she couldn’t hear the sirens. She couldn’t hear anything at all.
The lounge lurched and rotated. She bent over. Stomach acid burned the back of her throat. She swallowed hard.
The man half walked, half dragged her through the robots, who lowered their weapons and turned toward the emergency. They clomped past as though she didn’t exist.
In the empty hall, depressurization sickness eased. She stumbled on rubbery legs down a stopped escalator, through a locked shopping mall, under the steel-sealed floral aquarium.
Her hearing returned abruptly, like cotton ripped away, to reveal a distant, high-pitched whine.
Several floors below the lounge, still in yellow-lit quarantine, while he paused by an elevator bank, she regained her voice.
“What was that?” The question cracked in her throat. She struggled to swallow. “Why did they stop?”
He blinked to her. “A hull breach activates the emergency override of all station personnel and enforcement droids.”
“You breached the hull?”
“First level.” He focused on a map reflected in his green-tinted oculars.
“Are you crazy? You could have killed us all.”
“I was aiming at the transmission panel next to the hydrogen tank.”
She gave him her best skeptical look.
“I told you not to move,” he said.
They descended past a school, a socialization center, and a classy restaurant. His words sunk into her, slowing her down.
Wow. If the disaster really was her fault, if all of these innocent people could have been killed because of her mistake… She shuddered. Who could live with that kind of guilt?
“Next time, you should let me die,” she said.
“I can’t do that, Mercury.”
The way he said her name seemed so quiet and intimate. Heat licked up her cheeks and fla
med down her chest.
“Next time,” he was saying, “trust my logic and do what I say. Stand your ground and don’t move. Your actions are frighteningly irrational.”
She hurried to catch up. “Ducking in the middle of a gunfight is completely rational. And backing away from a stranger who gets right in my face makes perfect sense.”
“In that case, why didn’t you duck when I first grabbed you?”
“Because,” she said, “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
He turned on his heel.
She nearly crashed into him but caught herself, wobbling, one hand on his chest. His hard, wide, masculine chest. Electric awareness zapped through her body, crackling right in the hungry, hot center of her desire. No, they were fighting. She started to yank her hand away with an apology.
He silenced it by putting his hand over hers. Arresting her in place. “And that didn’t disturb you?”
“Er, well…”
He studied her for one long moment. Behind the green oculars, a brilliant nova ringed his pupils.
“You’re so good-looking,” she said, fumbling for the truth, “and I can only be terrified for so long. Something else has to fill the void.”
“Like kissing me.”
“Fantasies.” She shifted. “They pass the time.”
“Kissing me is your fantasy?”
“Okay, that came out wrong.” If the robots reappeared and opened fire, she couldn’t be any hotter right now. She tried to tug her hand free.
He didn’t let her. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” she repeated, tugging helplessly. “I think you mean awkward.”
“No.” He drew her forward. “I had the same fantasy.”
Her breath caught. No, she had misheard him. Surely. She shook her head. “What?”
“I want to know what you taste like.”
Her heart kicked in her chest. He was staring at her lips, and they warmed under his intense gaze. All of her warmed, heat rising, as the fantasies cascaded back into her mind. Her fingers twitched to cup his rough jaw and she wanted to lift her mouth to his.
No. This was insane.
His smile intensified. “I agree.”
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