Android X: The Complete Series

by Michael La Ronn

  He started back toward the hotel, but a sound on the other side of the street caught his attention. In an alley, he saw the hood he had seen at the train station. He and his android were sitting on a dumpster, counting money.

  X locked in on them and slid into the shadows.

  “We made out pretty good,” the hood said. He held up a dollar bill and verified it was real.

  “I need new parts,” the android said. “Now we can buy them. Maybe now I can have a scanning system?”

  “Sure,” the hood said flippantly, “after I buy a round of drinks for the gang.”

  X calculated a thousand probable scenarios. He scanned the walls of the surrounding buildings—no one watching. He liked his odds.

  He activated his guns, selected a silencer, and shot the android several times in the head. The android sparked and fell to the ground, lifeless. His head detached and smoke flowed from the body.

  Before the hood could run away, X grabbed him by the neck.

  CLANG! X slammed the hood against the dumpster, knocking him unconscious. He grabbed a wad from the hood’s back pocket, unfurled it, and threw it into the sky, watching as the wind carried the bills. He took another wad, turned one of his hands into a lighter, and set it on fire.

  “So much for trolling.”

  X turned his gun into a laser and burned a hole into the cement that read STEAL FARES AGAIN AND SEE WHAT ELSE HAPPENS. He grabbed the android’s skull, crumpled his black box with one hand and walked away under the cover of shadow.

  Chapter 4

  Shortcut had a migraine. He sat on his bed in his cube with shades drawn, scanning data on his lens, but he couldn’t concentrate. It felt like someone was driving an ax through the center of his skull.

  He had been experiencing headaches ever since his fight with Jeanette Crenshaw. He didn’t know why, but he thought it had something to do with his nanos. He had kept quiet about them for fear of being removed from the mission, but now the pain was catching up with him.

  He heard a voice. “Shortcut?”

  It was Brielle, talking to him via his audio link.

  “Hey.”

  “You sound terrible,” Brielle said.

  “I’m fine. Just really tired.”

  “Didn’t you sleep on the train?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You shouldn’t have left the hospital so early. You need more rest.”

  “I’m resting now.”

  “No you’re not. You’re on the UEA network.”

  “I’m going to bed soon.”

  “I’m worried about your health, Shortcut.”

  “Seriously, Brielle. I’ll be fine. We have to stop Crenshaw. Whatever my problems are, they’re not important right now.”

  Brielle paused and said, “If that’s what you want. I was just calling to alert you that I’m monitoring Jazzlyn’s signal. She left your immediate vicinity an hour ago. Did you know that?”

  “Yeah. She’s on an errand.”

  Brielle’s voice took an edge. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “Subterfuge. She’s trying to win over one of the local gang leaders. Thinks he can help us catch Crenshaw.”

  “I don’t trust her.”

  “Neither do we. But we don’t have a choice right now.”

  “If she’s not back soon, headquarters will have to respond.”

  “Trust me on this one,” Shortcut said. “Give her a bit more time.”

  Brielle disconnected, and Shortcut sat against the wall with his eyes closed. He didn’t know how he’d managed to get through the conversation without screaming in pain. He tasted needles on his tongue. His eyes felt three times their size, like balloons full of rocks being shaken nonstop, ready to pop at any moment.

  He took in a deep breath. He hadn’t thought about his medical condition for a while. He still couldn’t believe that the nanos swimming around inside his skull would one day kill him, that unless there were incredible advancements in nanotechnology within the next few years, he was in terminal trouble.

  “I need an aspirin,” he said, stumbling out of bed. He didn’t want to think about his mortality—not when the world itself hung in the balance of life and death.

  He swung out his legs, but they didn’t support him. He fell to the floor, stunned by the sudden stab behind his eyes.

  “God!” he cried, clutching his head. “I can’t work with this pain.”

  His vision blurred. He fumbled around for the doorknob and pushed it open, then lost his balance and tumbled out of the cube, hitting his head on the floor.

  Luckily, no one saw him. The other sleeping cubes were quiet, shades drawn over their windows.

  He stood up, trying as hard as he could to keep from swaying. His body felt the urge to curl up, and he overcorrected and stood straighter than normal.

  He looked at himself in the window of his cube’s door; his eyes were blood-red and his skin was pale.

  The migraine had killed his sense of direction, and the hotel swirled around him like water. He was halfway across the building before he realized that he had taken the long way toward the lobby.

  Crap. Too late to turn around.

  He passed by other sleeping quarters where people conversed inside their cubes, and through a lounge with plastic chairs, free coffee, a microwave, a vending machine, and a condom machine. The smell of old food hung in the air. After a long trudge down the dark hallway, he finally emerged into the lobby, where twilight lit up the windows.

  The innkeeper watched him strangely. “You okay, little buddy?”

  “I’m not little,” Shortcut said.

  “Well, you look a little like crap.”

  “I need to buy some aspirin.”

  “What for?”

  Shortcut’s temples throbbed and he pushed on them with his fingertips. “So I can tell you how much it’s none of your freaking business.”

  The innkeeper laughed. He reached below the counter, touched a panel on the bottom of the desk that slid open at his fingerprint, and pulled out a white bottle with no label. Little pills rattled inside like beans.

  “What is that?” Shortcut asked.

  “Painkiller.”

  “How do I know it’s not rat poison?”

  “It’s the only thing I carry under the front desk, unless you count laxatives. But those come in strips.”

  “Comforting.”

  The innkeeper held up the bottle and showed Shortcut the cap, which was fastened tight with a seal. “Premium product. Guaranteed, my friend.”

  Shortcut seized up in a bout of pain. He felt like his head was in a vice, and someone was making it tighter and tighter. Hell, he didn’t care if the bottle was rat poison. He needed to take something, anything to dull the pain and be able to do his job. Otherwise, Fahrens would relieve him from duty.

  “How much?” Shortcut asked.

  “Fifty-two.”

  “Fifty-two cents?”

  “Dollars.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Why do you think my nightly rates are so cheap, little buddy?”

  “I told you, I’m not little!”

  “Okay then, big boy. What will it be? Throbbing head or easy head?”

  “What the hell is easy head?”

  The innkeeper grinned and made a swimming motion with his hand. “When you feel so good, life is easy.”

  Shortcut blinked to activate his lens, and sent money to the hotel account. He swiped the bottle off the counter and stumbled back toward his room.

  “Feel better!” the innkeeper said. “Anything I can do to improve your stay, you just let me know.”

  “Try shutting up.”

  After what felt like an eternity, Shortcut made it back to the cube and climbed inside. He opened the pill bottle, but then realized he didn’t have anything to drink in his room.

  He remembered the sink in the lounge and headed back down the hall. By the time he got there, he couldn’t see straight. The pain had doubled.
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  He rested on the counter next to the sink, so exhausted he couldn’t summon the strength to run the faucet.

  What’s causing this? It can’t be cancer again. Not so soon.

  With all his strength, he slapped the faucet handle and water poured into the rusty basin. He tried to cup his hand to catch the water, but it leaked through his fingers and he fell to his knees. The water smelled like chlorine, and Shortcut twisted his mouth.

  No way am I drinking that.

  He saw the vending machine and crawled to it on all fours. He blinked as hard as he could, sending money to it. He reached up and slapped a pink button. A can of strawberry soda fell out.

  He cracked open the tab and soda spilled on the floor. He took the pill and chased it with soda, smacking his lips at the explosion of sugar in his mouth.

  Nothing happened.

  Need more time.

  He was out of his body now, watching himself as he swam toward the cube again. He heard footsteps. Behind him, a shadowed figure stood at the end of the hallway, staring at him. The figure didn’t move, and Shortcut didn’t know if it was real or an artifact of pain. He had a bad feeling about it, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the throbbing in his head.

  He quickened his pace and made it back to the cube. As he climbed inside, he looked back at the hallway—the figure was gone. He sighed with relief and threw himself on the bed, falling asleep instantly.

  Chapter 5

  Jazzlyn sat on a dumpster in an alley, staring at her ankle. Smoochums chirruped on her shoulder as she ran her hands across the ankle monitor.

  “I hate this thing,” she said. “Smoochy, wouldn’t it be so nice to just rip it off?”

  Smoochums cooed.

  “I can’t shoot it,” Jazzlyn said, aiming a gun at it. “I can’t cut it. I can’t slip out of it. I feel like cattle. On some stupid mission that doesn’t even involve me. Stupid UEA! Why did I have to get caught?”

  Smoochums crawled into her hand and scurried around her palm frantically.

  “I know you’re commiserating with me, honey,” she said. “But it’s not helping.” She tucked him away inside her dress and sighed. “I hate being forced to do anything. Even things I like.”

  She climbed up a fire escape onto a roof. “Lax’s hideout shouldn’t be too far away from here,” she said. “Unless he moved camp.”

  She took off into a run, crossing the gravel roof, and jumped onto another roof that held scattered patio furniture and an empty swimming pool. At the edge of this roof, she came to a wooden bridge suspended on ropes between two buildings. Barbed wire and bloody knives stuck up from the top of the roof below the bridge, thinly disguised by a layer of grass.

  “Definitely getting closer,” she said, crossing the bridge with care. She made it safely onto the next building and climbed up a water tower. She looked out at the horizon toward the setting sun, spying a tall office building with broken windows. A flock of crows flew up in front of her, circling the roof before climbing into the sky and fanning over the city.

  She blinked, and her lens brought up a thermal scanner of the office building in front of her.

  Seventh floor. The scanner picked up a strong heat signature there. Likely several men.

  “Found him.”

  Jazzlyn snapped her fingers and Smoochums ran out onto her palm. The rest of her cockroaches joined him. They connected with each other like links on a chain until they formed a grappling hook.

  She pulled on the cockroaches to make sure they were strong, then attached the hook to a rope from her knapsack and hurled it at the building, latching onto a window frame. She swung across an alley where several gang members stood smoking, landed on the side of the building, and took off into a horizontal run, following the tension of the rope. She cut around a corner, flipped into the air and landed on a roof terrace. She snapped her fingers and the cockroaches flew back to her, bringing the rope with them. She opened her knapsack and they flew inside, dragging the rope behind.

  She crouched beneath an electrical box where a gang member was watching a cartoon on his lens. She waited until just before the ending, then reached up and held a knife to his throat.

  “What the—”

  “Grown men shouldn’t watch cartoons when they’re on duty,” she said in a sultry voice.

  “What do you want?”

  “Take me to your boss.”

  She pointed toward a nearby metal door. They went through the door and down a staircase into a loft apartment with brick walls and exposed pipes. Inside the apartment were several gang members, androids, and dozens of tables full of android scraps. The scraps overflowed from the tables onto the floor, and the place smelled like weed and silicon.

  Jazzlyn forced the gang member through the apartment and the rest of the gang shouted, aiming their guns at her.

  In the middle of the room, a tall Asian man sat examining an android circuit board. He had short black hair and a circular scab across his cheek. When he saw Jazzlyn, he shook his head and laughed.

  “No one do anything stupid, or your guy here dies,” Jazzlyn said.

  The Asian man rose from the table and gestured to Jazzlyn with open palms. “So, what brings you back here, traitor?”

  “Funny, I don’t remember it that way.”

  “You’re the one who made an agreement with me and then made off with two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of android parts. Half of that fortune was mine.”

  “I had to pay a debt. Let it go, Lax.”

  Lax held up his hand and signaled his men to hang back. “I heard you were back. Wondered how long it would take you to show up here. Go ahead, you can let my man go.”

  Jazzlyn hesitated, then let the man go, watching as he ran toward the members of his gang. Then she turned and aimed at Lax.

  Lax held up his hands. “I’m not going to kill you. Put the damn gun away.”

  She tucked her gun on her belt and folded her arms. Looking around, she puffed. “You’re the leader of a gang and can’t afford a better apartment, huh?”

  Lax smirked. “Being a leader comes with other perks.”

  “Like a bunch of cronies to do your bidding?”

  “What are you here for, Jazzlyn?”

  “How did you know I was back?”

  “I’m not stupid. I have eyes everywhere. I also know you’re traveling with two UEA agents, one of them being an android. He’s pretty high-tech.”

  “Long story.”

  “So you’re a defector, then. Are you here to arrest me?”

  “I need help.”

  “Go ask the UEA for a handout if you’re looking for money.”

  Jazzlyn held up her ankle and tapped the ankle monitor with her fist; the thump reverberated through the loft. “I tried to hack into a UEA black box. They’re tracking my every move, now. I’m supposed to help them capture some mad scientist, but it’s all bullshit. I need to get out of this thing.”

  “You should have thought about that before you hacked into a UEA black box.”

  “Seriously, I need your help.”

  “I don’t get involved with the UEA. I like being a gang leader, if you haven’t noticed. I’m not going to jail for you.”

  “You owe me!”

  “No, you owe me!” Lax cried. “Besides, I’ve got my own problems.”

  “What could you possibly be worried about? You own this entire district.”

  “Your mad scientist is my problem.”

  “What?”

  “Someone named Crenshaw’s been here, and her crazy androids keep hanging around. They’re trying to get my androids to defect and join them. God knows for what.”

  Jazzlyn’s eyes widened. “Where is Crenshaw now?”

  “Hell if I know. Only saw her once. Hopefully she never comes back. Talk about a real bitch. I’m in the middle of a turf war right now, and I can’t stomach losing any more members. I’m low on cash and I can’t buy many androids these days.”

  “If you’re
looking for cash, I’ve got the mother lode for you.” She held up her ankle again. “Help me get this monitor off and I’ll take you to the UEA agents that brought me here. You can have the android. He’s worth at least ten million. He’s a Crenshaw.”

  Lax’s eyes widened, and he tried to mask his surprise with a frown. “And how am I supposed to believe you when you crossed me before?”

  “Because the UEA marked me. If I even think about salvaging UEA androids after this, I’m going to jail for the rest of my life. You, however, can launder them. Therefore, you can have all of the money. I just want my freedom.”

  Lax laughed.

  Jazzlyn projected a digital screen with her lens and showed X in action, fighting Xadrian in the android fraternity.

  Lax watched in amazement. “He is a true Crenshaw,” he said. He looked down at Jazzlyn’s ankle.

  “So we have a deal, then,” Jazzlyn said, extending her hand.

  Lax stared at her, thinking hard, then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and strode toward her, smiling.

  Chapter 6

  As night fell over the city, X slipped unseen into the hotel via the back door. The smell of cigarettes, noticeable before, was even stronger now. His footsteps thudded against the carpet, and even though he didn’t need to feel his way, he ran his fingers along the raised wallpaper as he walked through the darkness.

  He crept quietly down the hallways, the memory of justice against the hood fresh on his mind. It was a strange kind of justice, one he had never pursued before, but it felt right. Even though X was outside the UEA, outside the jurisdiction of its laws, and even though he had hurt a human, it felt very right.

  The man had hurt countless people. With several broken bones, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone for a while. He wondered if vigilante justice wasn’t the right way after all.

  He didn’t know. What he did know was that he had punished the man for a single action, not for his entire life. Maybe he’d change, maybe he wouldn’t. There needed to be someone, something here in this place to balance good and evil. But that was beyond the scope of his programming.