“Get back!” Tyler shouted. He, Oliver, and Jeffrey scurried away from the car as the metal began to smoke.
Sally had taken the brief interval the cyborg had been distracted to pop open her Miata’s trunk. She came out of it with an AR-15 assault rifle. Sally didn’t like to go anywhere without a small arsenal to keep her company. She leveled the rifle at the cyborg and fired six shots. Six 7.62 millimeter bullets tore through the cyborg’s chest plate. He managed to get one more shot off but missed wildly, then dropped the rifle and collapsed to his knees.
Sally advanced on the cyborg slowly, the AR-15 pointed directly at his skull. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver and Tyler approached as well. Oliver kept his gun lowered at his side. Even if Oliver had been better at shooting things, he doubted the cyborg had the strength left to reach for his weapon.
Sally stopped three feet away from the cyborg, just out of arm’s length, even though it seemed unlikely she was in any danger of him trying to reach for her now. The cyborg took a slow breath and coughed, flecks of blood appearing on his lips. Oliver was amazed the man was still alive at all, but as he watched he could see that the cyborg’s armor was slowly stitching itself back together, bits of metal elongating and joining each other, but the process didn’t appear to be entirely working. Was he too badly damaged, or was it due to the poor condition he’d seemed to be in when he’d gotten out of the van? And if his armor could rebuild itself, did that mean some similar process might have been working on his internal organs? Was that why he was still breathing?
“I failed,” the cyborg said, shaking his head slowly.
“You did,” Sally said. “How many of there are you?”
“I was the last,” the cyborg said. As Oliver watched, the cyborg’s armor slowly stopped repairing itself and he heard a noise like a bank of fluorescent light bulbs being switched off.
“What is your designation?” Sally asked.
“My name is Jonathan,” the cyborg said.
“What is your designation?” Sally repeated, louder this time.
“HK-1987-DT.”
Sally nodded. “You were a hunter. How many families did you run down? How many people did you kill?”
“Too many,” the cyborg said sadly. “I was a hunter, but that was a long time ago. My name is Jonathan.”
“Should we be getting a doctor?” Oliver asked.
“No,” Sally said.
The cyborg looked up at her. “Why did you kill us?” he asked. His illuminated left eye had gone dead, its power source seemingly terminated. A tear ran down his cheek from the other. “It was over. We were cured. We were people again. You didn’t have to kill us.”
Sally opened her mouth but closed it again. Whatever she’d expected the cyborg to say to her, this clearly hadn’t been it. “I couldn’t,” she finally said. “I just couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” the cyborg asked.
“Let you live,” she said. “After what you’d done, I just couldn’t…we were never going to go back to normal after that. I wanted to, but…” she looked away. “I’m sorry.” Then she pulled the trigger on the AR-15, sending a bullet through the cyborg’s skull. Bits of brain and tiny pieces of metal splattered onto the cement behind him.
“Jesus Christ!” Jeffrey cried.
Sally lowered the gun and sighed heavily.
There was a long silence, and then a familiar voice said, “Well, Sally. I suppose this means now you really have killed them all.”
Oliver looked up. Artemis had stepped out of the elevator lobby, her arms crossed in front of her. Seven stood just behind her, rubbing at a developing bruise on his temple.
“So…I guess this means we’re not going to Sausalito?” Tyler asked.
Chapter 4
Roughly half of The Araneae Group’s office on the 41st floor looked much like that of any other office one might visit in the financial district. Glass doors led from the elevator lobby into a finely-appointed reception area where framed portraits of major cities hung on the walls. Four large chairs sat around a circular table next to a water cooler. Nearby a two-foot tall snake plant grew out of a white pot. Two orchids sat together on a long L-shaped reception desk.
On a weekday Bruce Caldwell, the firm’s receptionist, would have been behind the desk. He normally sat with a Bluetooth receiver in his ear and greeted any visitors who might happen by with a cheerful smile. Bruce was nearly seven feet tall, built like an NFL linebacker, and had a small arsenal tucked away in his desk. To the best of Oliver’s knowledge he’d never had the need to use it, or the switch on his phone that would lock the entire place down with steel doors like a bank vault. Oliver found himself wishing Bruce worked weekends; they could have used another pair of strong hands as he and Tyler dragged the dead cyborg’s body inside.
Behind the reception desk was what Oliver thought of as the executive area. Eight private offices were connected by a hallway that ran from one end of the building to the other. Only four were currently occupied. Their staff numbers could fluctuate and were hard to predict from one day to another. It wasn’t as if they could put up a “help wanted” advertisement. Employees at Araneae typically fell into their positions through circumstances outside their control. Tyler had joined after he’d been turned into a werewolf and found himself unwilling to return to his old job as a police officer in Honolulu. Oliver had been offered a job after his incident with the lizard people. Seven had been recruited from the government. Oliver had assumed he’d worked for the NSA at one point, but Seven had laughed uproariously when Oliver had asked and said something about not being in kindergarten. And Sally…Oliver had never gotten the details on that one. Sally didn’t talk much about her past, Artemis didn’t talk much at all, and while Tyler knew the story, he’d told Oliver that it wasn’t his story to tell.
The executive half of the office also had a large conference room with presentation equipment, a small kitchen area, and a space Oliver called the “crash room.” It held two twin beds, a couch, several bookshelves, and an entertainment center. Seven seemed to spend more time staying there than he did at his own home, wherever that was. Oliver had stayed there overnight once or twice when he’d found himself too tired to manage the commute home. He’d brought in a litter box and set of food and water bowls for Jeffrey some time ago, just in case the cat happened to be at the office for some reason. Tonight he was glad he’d done so; it might stave off the cat complaining until they got home.
The other half of the office, accessible only through a set of heavy security doors in case someone managed to get by Bruce, contained Seven’s lab. It was one of his labs, anyway. He had at least two others that Oliver knew of in other cities. This one was filled with computers, stacks of servers taller than Oliver, and a variety of technical equipment. Oliver didn’t know what half of the things in there did, and wasn’t entirely sure that all of them originated on Earth. He’d only been at Araneae for six months, but found very little was capable of surprising him anymore.
A side room contained a small operating theater. It wasn’t used for medical purposes, but rather for examination and occasionally disassembly of interesting things they found on their assignments.
“Get him on the table,” Artemis said, nodding at the cyborg as they stopped for Seven to enter a security code outside the lab. “Seven, take him apart. I want to know everything about how he got here. The rest of you, when you’re done, my office.” With that she turned and headed down the hall.
Oliver had never quite gotten used to taking orders from Artemis. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was female, or that Oliver had any interest in being the boss himself. It was rather that Artemis appeared to be a ten-year-old girl. He knew that she wasn’t, of course, at least not chronologically. Nobody on the team knew exactly how old Artemis was, and the girl had never volunteered the information, but a very old vampire he’d met once had told him that he’d first met Artemis when he was still very young. Oliver had taken that to mean sh
e could be hundreds of years old, but once in a conversation Artemis had made reference to having had difficulty understanding the intricacies of Roman tax law. It had taken Oliver a moment to realize she wasn’t talking about a trip she’d taken to Italy recently.
Oliver and Tyler helped Seven get the cyborg onto the operating table and then walked back to the executive area with Sally.
Artemis was waiting for them behind a large oak desk when they reached her office, fingers steepled in front of her. Four chairs sat in front of the desk. She didn’t need to motion for them to sit down. Oliver felt a sense of dread, as if he were being called into the principal’s office for a scolding. That seemed strange to him, given that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and also that she was wearing a t-shirt with a Mr. Snuffleupagus print on it, but Artemis tended to be stern on a good day, and this was no longer a good day.
A china teapot sat on a silver tray in front of them, with three small cups next to it. Artemis poured the tea silently. Oliver and Tyler each took a cup. Sally didn’t touch hers. She hadn’t said a word since putting a bullet in the cyborg’s head.
Jeffrey jumped onto Oliver’s lap. “I don’t see a cup for me,” he noted, looking at the tray.
“Have you begun drinking tea?” Artemis asked.
“No, but it’s nice to be offered.”
“I shall have to remember that.” Artemis took a small sip from her cup. “First things first. Are any of you injured?”
Oliver and Tyler shook their heads. “He didn’t seem to want to hurt us,” Oliver said. “Well, not me and Tyler.”
“Or me,” said Jeffrey.
“Sally?” Artemis asked.
Sally stared off into space, her eyes vacant. Oliver wasn’t sure she’d heard the question. On second thought, he wasn’t entirely sure she even knew where she was.
Tyler put a hand on her arm. “Sally?” he asked gently. “Are you hit?”
Sally looked down at his hand as if confused by the physical contact. “No,” she said. Her voice sounded slightly groggy. If she hadn’t been in his presence the entire time since they’d encountered the cyborg, Oliver might have thought she’d snuck off to a bar for a quick drink or five.
“There is that much, then,” Artemis said. “Someone should tell me what happened now.” She looked at them. “Begin speaking.”
Sally didn’t look to be in any condition to talk, so Oliver took the initiative. “We were just coming back from the airport,” he began. It only took a few minutes to break down the encounter. The whole thing had been over nearly as quickly as it had begun. Oliver paused for a moment when he was finished. “I thought the cyborgs were gone,” he said to Artemis.
“It would appear that one survived,” Artemis noted. “Hopefully he was telling the truth when he said he was alone, but I suppose he had no reason to lie.” She pressed a button on her phone to activate the intercom. “Seven?”
“Here,” Seven’s voice came back.
“Report.”
“I’ve barely started with him!” Seven protested. “Their armor doesn’t come off that easily. Half of it is grafted into the skin.”
“First impressions.”
Seven sighed loudly over the speaker. “He was already badly damaged before Sally shot him. I don’t think he’d have lasted for more than a few more days.”
“How was he damaged?” Artemis asked. “Had he been in combat?”
“Not recently. I’m running some of his blood now, but I’d say most of his nanobots have been down for a while. I think the virus got him but he managed to survive it.”
“How is that possible?”
“No idea. Interference at deployment, maybe. Some kind of corruption. He was running on empty, though. I’m sure of that much.”
“He had nowhere to go for repairs,” Tyler said. “The rest of them were dead.”
“What about Overlord?” Artemis asked.
“Disabled. I doubt it’s been active since the end of the war. I’ll try to confirm it, but as far as I can tell he was a human, at least mentally.”
“Keep working.” Artemis ended the call. “We may wind up calling this lucky,” she told the others. “One of them was dangerous enough. If six cyborgs had survived, I suspect things would have ended quite differently.”
“He said he didn’t want to fight me or Tyler,” Oliver said. “Why not?”
Artemis watched Sally for a moment. “He didn’t come here for a fight, Mr. Jones. He wanted justice, or what he believed to be justice. I imagine it was all he felt he had. There was no place left for him in his world.”
“Which makes me wonder how he got here,” Tyler said. He glanced at Sally. “Our mirror was broken. Could there be another one?”
“Perhaps, but I suspect he arrived through other means. They had been working on teleportation for some time; perhaps that work finally came to fruition.” Artemis ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Seven may be able to tell us more at some point, but I suspect that the electromagnetic storm we picked up in Sausalito and the similar readings in the garage were related to his journey here.”
“It took him over a year,” Tyler said quietly. “All that time, just to get here and…” he put a hand on Sally’s arm. “Well, he didn’t get you. You’re fine.”
Sally was still staring at nothing.
“Sally?” Artemis asked. “Are you all right?”
Sally shook her head. “He…he was a person.”
“Of course he was a person, Sally. They were all people. I did try to tell you that once before, if you remember. At the time you told me to…” Artemis trailed off. “It no longer matters.”
“Why did he call you Salera?” Oliver asked.
“Because that is her name,” Artemis replied.
“It’s not my name anymore,” Sally said. “Don’t say it again.”
“Why not?” Jeffrey asked. He looked at Oliver. “Does this mean we can change our names whenever we want? I want everyone to call me Big Jim Sla…”
“Enough,” Artemis cut him off. “Tyler, take Sally home and keep an eye on her tonight. Oliver, stay a moment.”
Oliver expected Sally to protest that she didn’t need to be taken care of, but she didn’t say a word as Tyler helped her to her feet and led her out of the office. To Oliver she looked frail, as if she’d aged fifty years in the last half hour. She moved like she wouldn’t have been able to walk, or even stand up, without assistance.
Artemis sipped her tea as she watched them go, then turned back to Oliver. “Well, Mr. Jones. You seem to be having a bit of a day.”
“I kicked Dracula’s ass,” Jeffrey said.
“Did you?” Artemis asked, eyebrows raised. “I was almost certain you would come in handy sooner or later.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.”
“Meanie.”
A faint smile crossed Artemis’s lips, and then her neutral expression returned. “Well, then. Where should I begin?”
Chapter 5
Artemis disappeared into the kitchen to make another pot of tea. Oliver sat quietly with Jeffrey for a moment. “I thought things couldn’t get any weirder with you people,” the cat said, stretching out on Oliver’s lap. “Then a robot from the future shows up and tries to kill everyone. I can’t even remember what my life was like before I met you.”
“You were an ordinary cat before you met me.”
“You say ordinary like it’s an insult.”
“It wasn’t. Anyway, cyborgs aren’t technically robots; they’re a combination of human and machine. And I don’t think he was from the future.”
“Where else would he have come from? I saw a movie once where a robot came from the future and tried to kill this lady, and the police shot him a bunch of times but he didn’t care, and in the end he got smashed flat.”
“But that was a movie,” Oliver pointed out. Artemis entered the office with a fresh teapot. “Movies aren’t real life.”
“I saw Dracu
la in a movie and it turned out he was real life, too. He even wore a stupid cape like he did in the movie.”
“Was he still wearing that cape?” Artemis asked, taking her seat. “I told him once it made him look like even more of a buffoon than he already was. I imagine I’ll have occasion to tell him again.”
“Um, we did kill him,” Oliver said. “Sally staked him and he turned into ash.”
“And I scattered him all over the place,” Jeffrey said. “I was going to pee on him just to be sure, but then everyone wanted to leave all of a sudden.” He looked at Oliver. “See? You should have let me pee on him.”
“I assure you that would not have helped,” Artemis said. “That one always comes back. Perhaps in a hundred years. I would not worry, Mr. Jones. I doubt you will still be around next time.”
Oliver imagined that was supposed to sound reassuring, but given the night’s events a reminder of his mortality really wasn’t what he’d needed. “And you will be around?”
Artemis sipped her tea. “That seems very likely, does it not?”
“How old are you, anyway?” Jeffrey asked. “Are you as old as the hills?” Artemis gave him a cold look. “Ah, never mind,” the cat said nervously.
“I didn’t teach him that,” Oliver said. “Your television privileges are revoked,” he told the cat.
“Your sleeping through the night privileges are revoked,” the cat said.
“If you’re both quite done?” Artemis asked. Oliver nodded. “Very good. Why don’t you tell me what you already know? Or what you have surmised?”
“Sally doesn’t talk about it,” Oliver said. “I’d just be guessing, mostly.”
“You are fairly astute, though. Enlighten me.”
Oliver took a breath, considering how to put all of this. “Sally is an alien from another galaxy,” he said. “Her people fought a war with a race of cyborgs and she used some kind of weapon of mass destruction against them that destroyed their planet, and then she came here to live on Earth for some reason.”
Interesting Places (Interesting Times #2) Page 3