Heretic: Archangel Project. Book Three

by C. Gockel

  Noa curled up on the mattress, Carl Sagan in her arms. She looked very tiny and fragile. “You're not shutting down?” she whispered.

  “No, I'll enter a sleep-like state … but I'll still be here if you need me,” he said, settling on the floor nearby.

  Noa didn't respond, but Carl Sagan poked his head up and shot a beady-eyed glare at James, as though to say, “As though she'd ever need you with me here!” And then his tiny head disappeared.

  Noa trembled and fell asleep. She was so close he could touch her. The sensation of emptiness felt even more vast. A bug in his programming, obviously. He could fix it with a little effort. He took out his augment key and was about to insert it into his port when Noa got up, saying, “I'm going to get the door.” Carl Sagan jumped up and began frantically hopping after her. James eyes widened in alarm as he realized she was heading toward the airlock—where assuredly no one was knocking.

  Quickly climbing to his feet, he jumped up and pulled her around. As usual, when she was sleep walking she didn't seem to be looking at him. He reached to her in the ether—and was relieved when she answered. He slipped from the real world into her dream. It looked exactly like the ship they were in.

  “James,” the dream Noa said, “The agent of Premier Leetier is knocking at the door. We have to let him in.”

  James tilted his head. She was worried about a cyborg agent she'd only known for a few minutes.

  Noa wiped her face with her hands. “He did more for my planet than the real premier did.”

  With those words, James understood. Of course she worried for him. He was part of her team, and Noa had trouble abandoning her team members. It was a “bug” in her programming. Trying to save Kenji on Luddeccea nearly got her killed. But then again, saving Gunny on Adam's Station had ultimately saved James from being lost in the Kanakah Cloud, which in the long run had ultimately allowed him to sacrifice himself and gave her the opportunity to flee to the safety of Sol System. Not that she'd had the sense to stay safe … But then maybe her sacrifice would save the agents, the gates, and her own race from war. Maybe the impulse that drove her to protect her “team” beyond death—hers and theirs—wasn't a bug so much as a feature.

  “Let me answer the door,” Noa said, her avatar and her physical form trying to slip past him to the airlock. There was no outer seal; the hatch had blown away during the agent premier's struggle with the 'bots. If she opened it, they'd all be sucked out into the void. James intercepted her, putting his hands on her shoulders. A dream version of Carl Sagan, doubtlessly conjured by Noa's imagination, materialized on James's shoulder and threw out a paw in Noa's direction, and as it often happened in Noa's dreams, the werfle began to speak. “Noa, the Agent of Leetier is surfing the quantum wave. The airlock is open to the void and if you open it you will perish!”

  A tortoise shell cat appeared at James's feet. Rubbing against James's ankles, the cat said, “Listen to him, Noa!”

  Noa scowled at the dream werfle and the cat. “I'm sleepwalking again, aren't I?”

  “Yes,” said Carl Sagan, the cat, and James in unison, and then their mindscape bodies turned their heads to peer at each other through narrowed eyes.

  “I have a crazy subconscious,” Noa muttered. “Surfing the quantum wave. What does that even mean?”

  “The Agent of Leetier more than likely uploaded himself,” James said, averting his attention from the dream animals.

  Noa huffed. “Is that cybernetic agent heaven?”

  James sighed. “I don't really know … haven't been there to find out, and really don't want to go.”

  Noa's dream and real self nodded. “Yep, that sounds like heaven all right. Would you turn me in the direction of my cot and make sure I don't send us all there?”

  James gently steered her around. He helped her back to the cot. Wishing he could lie down beside her for the warmth, and the tactile pleasure of it, he only tucked her in.

  “Why are you being so kind?” Noa asked him.

  Why was he being kind? Because Ashley would find a way to destroy him if he wasn’t? Because if Noa managed to live, it would speak well of the agents and increase the likelihood of his survival? Those justifications were too long. “Because you taught me to take care of my team.”

  Noa grabbed his hand and grasped it with surprising force. “I'm glad that we're on the same team. I'm so glad we still have that.” And then her dream self faded away as she left REM sleep behind. She was still holding his hand in the real world, though.

  James didn't let it go until just before she woke. Nor did he touch the augment key again.

  Panting, hands clasped behind her back, Noa sat up and touched her chin to her knees. “Four.” She wasn't sweating, but she could already feel the beginnings of a burn in her lungs. Somewhere Carl Sagan squeaked. Her eyes fell on the “sleeping” agents—James had packed their bodies against the airlock so that if Noa sleepwalked she'd trip over them before she opened it and set them all afloat.

  “Please stop,” said James, leaning against the wall, legs stretched out on the barren floor. He looked as frustratingly attractive as ever. The black scar on his face made him look more real, even if the color was alien.

  Glaring at him, Noa declared, “Unlike some people, I have to exercise to stay in peak physical condition.”

  James smiled disconcertingly, and Noa let herself fall backward onto the mattress to keep from staring.

  “I'm glad you think I'm in 'peak physical condition,'” James quipped.

  Noa felt her cheeks heat. Lizzar balls.

  James got up and walked so he was looking down at her. “But I'm absolutely certain exercise is not the way for a person who is suffering from a cryssallis infection to stay in peak condition.” His nostrils flared slightly, he was frowning, and his shoulders were tight. He looked furious.

  Flat on her back, Noa could only gape up at him. “You figured that out?”

  “It's getting worse,” James said, the fury in his expression morphing into something else. “Usually, that happens with infections if they aren't cured during the first round of treatment.”

  Noa's brow wrinkled up in incredulity. “You've noticed it getting worse? We've only been back—” Together, she almost said, but waved a hand. “It's only been six days!” Six painfully awkward days when she didn't feel comfortable chatting with Carl Sagan or him. He might not feel resentment toward her, but she still felt pretty terrible about their relationship. Basically, he'd been her sex 'bot … no, worse! James had real feelings and thoughts and had been forced to be with her scrawny, sick self. All of her guilt was made worse by the fact that she still had feelings for him. She was afraid she'd trip up and flirt, and then that would be unforgivable.

  “Yes, to the first, and yes, it's only been six days, which makes me worried that you won't make it the fifty-four more days before we get picked up by Fleet.” He sounded pissed, not worried. And he should be worried about that. He'd known by whatever that Qcomm was that Fleet had come through the gate down to the number of ships. He'd told her that they knew about their position and were planning a “rescue.” Noa hoped it was a rescue. She wasn't confident that her species would respect the agents as, well, alien life. She did have a plan for that, though.

  “I'll make it.” She had to. For them. Noa lifted her chin and gave him a sunny smile. “I'm too stubborn to quit.”

  His eyes narrowed and his nostril flared again, which almost made her giggle. She forced herself to do another sit-up. “Five.” She lowered herself and repeated. “S—” And erupted into a fit of coughing.

  James sat down beside her and waited until she stopped hacking. It took over a minute.

  “Please stop, Noa.”

  She looked at him and wished she hadn't. He was sitting next to the mattress, which put him exactly at eye level and lip-lock level, and he still smelled good. What had he said? That the way he smelled was probably to be more attractive to her. She dropped her head onto her knees and couldn't help
but think of a fairy tale with a little girl and a wolf disguised as her granny. “Granny,” Noa imagined the little girl in the hood saying, “Why do you smell so good?” The wolf licked its lips and in Noa's twisted version of the story said, “The better to seduce you, my dear.”

  Face buried in her knees, Noa laughed.

  “What's so funny?” James inquired.

  “Nothin'.” She thought he was about to say something, but she broke into another coughing fit, sadly not feigned. When it was done, she put her hand behind her head and prepared to do another sit-up.

  “Stop, Noa!” James put a hand on her knee. Which made Noa go warm in all sorts of uncomfortable ways.

  She stared at his hand and swallowed. “Look,” she explained. “I've been living in this tin can for a while, James, and I need to exercise. It's one way to fend off boredom and keep me mentally sane.”

  “Is there really any help for the latter?” James asked, his tone light.

  She shot daggers at him with her eyes, but felt her lips curl up despite her best efforts.

  He tilted his head. “I do have a solution for the former.”

  Her lips parted. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to stop talking. His hand was still on her knee, and she could swear she felt the heat of it all the way to—well, all sorts of places. She eyed those long fingers. Would she want anything with James? It would just be a way to combat boredom for him. For her …

  Pulling his hand away, averting his eyes, and rubbing the back of his neck, he said nervously, “Ummm … so I was thinking, I know how to let you in the Qcomm.”

  Oh. That was what he'd been thinking—something innocent, and based on his uncomfortable reaction, he knew what she'd been thinking, which wasn't innocent, and she'd made him uncomfortable.

  “Actually, it's not so much that you'd be in the Qcomm. But I think I could relay data fast enough to the ether that it would feel like you were.” He was rambling. Ugh. She'd made him terribly uncomfortable, obviously.

  It took her a moment before she realized he was waiting for an answer. Be in the ether with James? She was sure that she had in her dreams. She had a vague memory of him holding her hand and saying that she'd taught him to look after his team. And if he had really said that … Noa sucked in a breath. He might as well have just ripped out her heart with his bare hands and stabbed it with a phaser knife. It had made her feelings for him rekindle like a bonfire … she thought that she had behaved appropriately, in the dream. She hoped she had.

  “Noa?”

  “Ah … That's okay, you don't have to,” Noa said, flopping down on the mattress, taking another breath, and feeling that tell-tale twinge, like the prick of tiny needles.

  James leaned over her. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  He looked so earnest. She remembered the joy he'd seemed to have gotten from creating different mindscapes. This was probably like that. She firmly met his eyes, but she was thinking of that long black scar—the only reason it bothered her was because her people had given it to him. She wasn't naïve. She knew they'd probably done much worse.

  He was there for her. He was her team as long as the other agents were asleep. And they did have fifty-odd more days to go.

  “All right,” she said, and felt him pinging her in the ether immediately.

  Noa answered, closed her eyes, and found James's avatar staring at her in a barren field of gray. Holding out an arm, he said, “The ones that aren't busy are at Raani's place.”

  Checking that every emotional shield she possessed was up and operational, Noa looped her avatar's arm with his. The gray took form and they were standing in a small room, gazing at their reflections in a mirror.

  “Hmmm … usually she doesn't bother with sending guests through the foyer,” James commented.

  Noa looked around the foyer. The floor was made of polished black stone that was also realistically reflective. She heard a door whoosh open and closed, and fast footsteps. A beautiful woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes came rushing in. “Oh, you managed to bring her!” Without smiling, the woman, or agent, Noa supposed, spoke in a torrent. “I'm Raani! I am so glad to meet you. Really I am. I have just been flubbing my purpose and I am sure you can help. James swears it's because I come on too strong, but he can't really judge because he is an agent, not really human, and he's also based off one human male. Too small a sample size! But you! You are human and you know what we are!”

  “Ah,” said Noa, not sure she'd caught any of that.

  “I really want to talk to you,” Raani said, brown eyes imploring. “But right now I need James.”

  “What's wrong?” James asked.

  Raani's wide brown eyes went to his. “Oh, James, there is a new agent, and he's terribly, terribly despondent, even though he succeeded with his purpose marvelously! Tremendously!” She touched her chin. “Well, I guess she wasn't really his purpose while he succeeded as he wasn't really an agent then, but he is now. His purpose asked One and One agreed and he has a new processor …”

  “What are you talking about, Raani?” James demanded, sounding as vexed and confused as Noa felt.

  Putting her hand on James's other arm, Raani guided him out of the mindscape foyer. He dragged Noa along with him as Raani prattled on, “I know how horribly you were depressed when you thought Noa was dead.” She peered at Noa. “He was impossible before he changed his programming. Impossible!” Noa didn't look up at James, feeling somehow that she'd invaded his privacy. Facing forward again, Raani continued, “But maybe you're the only one who can sympathize with what he's going through now.” They emerged into an open room, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides and a kitchen area with a counter lined with high stools at the far end. Noa heard James say, “Where is everyone?” but Noa's attention was drawn to an agent sitting at the counter. His back was to her, but there was something about his slumped shoulders, the color of his hair, the bright pink shirt and sparkly purple pants he wore. “6T9?” Noa gasped, pulling away from James and putting her hands to her mouth.

  The figure at the counter turned around. It was 6T9, but not as she'd ever seen him before. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were red rimmed. “Noa?” he whispered. He slid from the stool as though it took great effort, and held out his arms. 6T9 never hugged Noa, but he looked like he desperately needed a hug now. Noa threw herself into his embrace. It wasn't possible to really feel an embrace in a mindscape—or at least not a normal human ether-generated 'scape. James insisted tactile sensation was possible in the Qcomm mindscapes. Noa wasn't part of the Qcomm simulation as she understood it; still, the human mind was wonderfully open to suggestion, and she could imagine the 'bot's arms around her back, and the feel of his chin on her head, just by what she saw and heard.

  “Sixty,” she whispered. “You're an agent?”

  She could hear him swallow. “Now I am. Eliza asked One to give me a new processor.” His voice was soft and tired.

  “I can imagine her doing that,” Noa said, pulling back to look up at him. “What's wrong?”

  “What's wrong?” he asked, his voice and expression incredulous. “What's wrong?”

  Noa grabbed his hands before he could pull away. “Are you being well treated? Are you facing discrimination? Are you imprisoned for being an agent?”

  He blinked at her and then laughed bitterly. “My prison is being an agent! She gave me understanding while she is dying! Why would she do that to me?” He pulled away and put his hands to his face. “I could have taken care of her without knowing. I could have stayed the way I was. I could have been happy.”

  Noa's jaw sagged, and her eyes got hot. “Eliza isn't—”

  James's hand fell on her shoulder. “Of course she is, Noa. You just don't like thinking about it.”

  Noa gulped. 6T9 blinked at her. “Is that how you deal with it? Not thinking about it? But how do you do that? I think about everything now, and it is terrible.”

  Noa took a step backward, her shoulder pressing against James's
chest.

  “You can unprogram yourself now, 6T9,” James said. “Or you can accept every moment you have together as a gift until she dies.” He sounded like he knew what he was speaking about and in the real world Noa wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. He'd thought she was dead. He'd mourned her. He'd wished her back for just one moment, she knew it. She'd been there, in his boots, and wished for another moment. She'd had to move on—but she'd held on, too. She'd worked Timothy's memory into a part of her that helped her stay sane. In time, she'd have done the same with James's memory.

  “And then I will have to unprogram myself?” 6T9 said, the acid in his voice surprising Noa. Sixty was forever kind and cheerful.

  “Yes,” James said, voice like steel.

  “But will I be myself anymore?” 6T9 demanded, and now he sounded afraid.

  James's hand tightened on Noa's shoulder. Brushing it gently aside, Noa stepped forward, feeling as though her eyes had been opened. Laying a hand on Sixty's arm, she said, “You won't be the same, but you have to change. Living things have to adapt.” She shrugged. Agents did it differently than humans—with an augment key. She'd thought that it was painless for them, but Raani's words, Sixty's, and James's own suggested it hurt. Her eyes slid to the scar on James's cheek … and she realized the three agents were studying her appraisingly. Her eyebrows rose. What had she said?

  Sixty sighed and answered her unasked question. “So far, there is a truce between the gates and their agents and humans.” He smirked. “But not everyone agrees with it.”

  Raani held up her hands. “We don't want to die.”

  James said softly, “You just acknowledged that we are alive.” His gaze was too intent.

  There was something to say here, something monumental and important. “Pfffft ….” These waters were too deep. Noa threw up a hand, and looked around expectantly. “I thought we came here for some sort of party?”

  Raani twiddled her thumbs, and James gave her a look she couldn't decipher.

  “Eliza's calling me, anyway,” Sixty said. He bent down, hugged Noa again, and whispered in her ear, “I wish you were interested in casual sex.”