The wall on their right was transparent. The star fields beyond it stretched into forever.
Trev saw the android in front him turn to gaze at the view. Trev looked too. The opalescent edge of Gideon shone at the foot of the wall, mostly hidden by the deck upon which they walked, but the colors were still startling, vibrant. And all of it seeming so close.
When they reached the end of the corridor, another guard stood at the entryway. He had a device in his hand that looked like a gun. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered the android.
The big man obeyed, and the guard pressed the muzzle of the gun to his wrist. Trev heard a click. “Identchip in place for Khim 18367.”
So that was the android’s name.
Trev stepped up.
“Hold out your hand.”
He obeyed.
“Identchip in place for Trevor Dante Damico.”
Trev’s face instantly heated. So his new identity had already been compromised. He smelled his father’s hand in all of this. Fuming, he said, “There must be some mistake. My last name is Varain.” He began to spell it out.
The guard frowned and checked a digital readout on the gun. “Damico,” he said. “That’s what it says. And that’s who you are. The system’s confirmed it.”
As the guard spoke, Khim turned quite suddenly, and his face had contorted to a strange, almost horrified expression.
Trev backed up a step as the android let out a hiss. Meeting his eyes, he leaned into Trev’s space. It was as if the gaze tried to spear him, the man’s irises paling to the color of blue ice—sharp, accusing, hate-filled.
“Face forward!” the guard ordered, glaring at Khim. Then, “Next.”
Trev tried to take a deep breath. What had just happened? Had he almost been attacked? Did this android named Khim think he knew him? Trev would have remembered if he’d ever met him before. Or even seen him. Khim’s attributes were not forgettable.
He stared worriedly at Khim’s back as they shuffled through yet another door. The man held himself with a power and grace that gave away nothing. That shiver Trev had seen before? No sign of it. Maybe it had all been in his imagination. Khim walked easily, not as if he’d been recently injured or felt any pain. Khim’s long hair left trails of wetness on the back of his gray shirt, the pale ends curling a bit in the dry, recycled air. Whatever fastening he’d had for the ponytail had disappeared.
Trev himself was actually trembling. His own still-damp hair made the skin on his neck crawl.
As soon as he was settled, he needed to find out how to make an appointment with an attorney. And somehow, some way—though it was the last thing he wanted—he needed to contact his father.
As the new inmates entered the main hub of the actual prisoners’ living quarters, Trev saw a large central plaza surrounded by five levels of cells. Metal walkways connected each line of cells, and grid stairs led to each level. Every cell was free of bars, but that was not because the cells held no locks. What kept them enclosed were invisible force fields. From holos he’d watched, Trev knew that if you tried to pass through one, it would give off an electrical shock and toss you into the air. Force fields were highly efficient. Sound could pass through them, and air, but not people.
Already Trev could hear the sounds the prisoners made—shouts and yells, the low hum of conversation. In the plaza area, some prisoners roamed. Two men were running cleaning machines over the already pristine, shining deck. At the end of each stairway stood a robot sentry, human-shaped but with backward-bending, insectoid legs and made entirely of metal. Their faces were smooth silver with glowing red eyes.
Trev had seen robots like that before. He was familiar with how they worked because he’d actually built one as a child. They were fairly simple mechanisms, dependent upon their programming. He’d never thought to be afraid of a robot, but in this environment, the sentries looked sinister.
“This is A Block,” one of the guards explained, loud enough for all to hear. “This is where you’re all assigned. For now.” Then he gave them a quick overview. “Visitor hours are on Fridays. If you have cases pending, your attorneys are allowed to visit you at any time. Mandatory lockdown is from 9:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Random lockdowns occur during the day, and you must report to your cell when you hear the alarms. There are two media rooms on this block, and two exercise rooms. You are to keep your clothing and personal hygiene tidy at all times. Meals are at seven, noon, and six. If you miss a meal, you cannot make it up. All rules are posted in each media room, exercise room, and the cafeteria. Read them. Memorize them. Deviation from any rule results in checks. Get three checks, and you earn solitary confinement for a minimum of two days. You do not want that. Believe me.”
It went so fast. Trev locked it all into his mind as quickly as he could. He intended to get through this, for whatever time he would be required to be there, as smoothly as possible.
Keep a low profile. Do not bring attention to yourself.
He was a Damico. He’d been raised to be strong.
At that thought, he had the sudden realization that his actual name, Damico, might help him. The Damico family was known and feared. He wondered at the irony. The very thing he was running from might be the very armor that would protect him now. Name as reputation. With it came a fear of reprisal from a crime family that left no loose ends. Ever. Trev was one of those loose ends now, but the other prisoners in the facility didn’t know that.
The guard who assigned the cells led them down the center of the open plaza. Inmates stared at them filing by. Some made low comments under their breaths. Trev noticed most of them had their eyes on Khim.
But one man with short brown hair and a rumpled jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to show muscular forearms, met Trev’s eyes and said to some hard-looking companions beside him, “Pretty boys always get a special welcome.”
Trev’s face instantly heated, but he’d learned from his brothers and sisters to never avert his gaze in a confrontation. He gritted his teeth and glared back.
The man’s eyebrows rose, and his lips curved into a surly smile.
Trev thought he might be quick enough to take on the bigger, more muscular man because of his acrobatic ability and fighting skills. But he would not be able to win if the man and his companions ambushed him as a pack. With robot sentries at every turn, the chances of that happening were hopefully slim.
Most of the men roaming the area had nothing better to do than watch the new prisoners. None actually approached.
One inmate, who stood closer than the rest, with bangs long enough to cover his eyes, said, “I thought androids who broke the law were put down, not locked up.”
The guard said, “Step back, Connor. Mind your business.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Connor said, moving a pace backward. “It’s a threat to the rest of us, though.”
“You’re all threats or you wouldn’t be here,” the guard replied, toneless.
The truth was that vat-grown humans were physically stronger than natural humans. Perhaps even mentally superior. But in Trev’s mind it wasn’t an issue. There had always been power differences between humans. Life was not fair or just. It was naive to think otherwise.
The group approached a stair. The guard in front stopped. He turned to face them, motioning with his hand for Khim and Trev to move forward. “You two! Follow me.”
Another guard came up from behind and took over with the other five men.
Trev and Khim followed the guard up one flight of stairs. At the top of the second level, the guard led them past a half-dozen cells, some empty, some with inmates quietly reading or napping.
The deck they were walking on was a tarnished silver grid-walk that clanged faintly with their footfalls. The cells were fitted along a tight line, the walls separating them comprised of solid metal about six inches thick. The lighting for the level ran in a single seamless tube along the outside tops of the cells, a soft greenish phosphorescence easy on the eyes but bright enough to keep shadows from
collecting. Inside the cells the lighting seemed to emit from above; the entire ceiling of each cell was a luminous square, white with a faint tinge of chrome.
The three stopped at an empty cell. “Number 482 is your new home, fellas,” the guard said.
The android’s hands formed into sudden fists, and he stepped back, frowning.
Khim said, “I refuse to share a cell with this person.” He did not look at Trev as he said that.
Trev waited, watching expectantly. He had no idea why Khim had immediately despised him, but he’d seen the reaction when his name was revealed.
The guard said, “You don’t have a choice. Live with it.”
“And if I refuse?” Khim stated, voice sharp but level.
“You’ll bunk in solitary until the warden’s schedule clears to meet with you and hear your complaint.”
“Solitary is a private cell, yes?” Khim asked.
“Indeed,” the guard replied. “But it is very uncomfortable. I don’t recommend it. Some inmates leave quite disturbed. You can find out for yourself, or you can stay here and ask your advocate to voice your complaint. The food here is warm, the beds have sheets, you get a shower once a day, and you have clothing on your body. The same cannot be said for solitary.”
Khim said, “It would be quite easy for you to switch me out with another inmate.”
“Easy?” the guard echoed. “For who? I’d have paperwork, and then, well, there’s the sheer annoyance of you, which has already begun. I don’t like to be annoyed. Nor do the other guards. If you annoy us enough, we can make your stay here even more unpleasant.”
Trev held his plastic kit tight to his chest and remained silent. Now the guard turned to look at him. “Besides, how is this little shit gonna give you any trouble? Look at him. He’s nothing.”
Trev noticed that the guard had tattoos for eyebrows and very thick lips, his face chiseled as if he’d had a lot of sculpting done. He looked less real than Khim, who had been custom-made. His voice had a tenor tone that cut.
The guard asked Trev, “What the fuck did you do to piss him off?”
“Nothing,” Trev said.
Khim made an almost-strangled sigh of anger, turned his back on both of them, and stomped into the cell.
Trev felt the guard nudge him on the arm. As he entered the cell, the force field came up.
Both turned to look at the guard, who said, “You’re new. You get locked in the first day. That’s the rule.”
Trev swallowed hard, stepping away from the entry and the faint hum of the shield. He’d been close enough to feel it prickling the air with its static. If he’d been any closer, it could’ve shocked him with a punch that might have propelled him across the room.
He looked around. There was a single metal toilet in the corner, no privacy. Beside it was a small metal sink and an inlaid nonglass mirror above it. A rack for towels, like a seamless extension of the wall, protruded alongside the mirror. Below that was a single shelf. They were intended to share all the space for their toiletries, which wasn’t much. Good thing they didn’t have a lot.
Trev looked at the premade beds with a heavy sigh. Bunk beds. Each had a single pillow and a dark green blanket folded back with a white sheet underneath. The mattress was also sheeted white. Khim had already placed his kit on the lower bed. He did not acknowledge Trev at all.
Trev turned away and went toward the towel rack. He unpacked his kit, careful to take only half the space, placing his towel and cloth on the rack and the rest of his stuff on the shelf. When he was done, he folded the plastic tote and placed it too on the shelf.
Khim was standing by the beds, arms crossed, very still. He might’ve been staring at the back wall. His kit lay on his bunk, unpacked.
Trev said, “My name is Trev.”
Nothing.
Boldly, “Do you think you know me? Because I—”
“No. I don’t think I know you,” Khim interrupted, unmoving.
“Then why did you tell the guard what you did?”
“I don’t like humans. Natural ones, that is.”
Trev tilted his head, thinking carefully about his response. “I don’t like them much myself.”
That got Khim to turn his head slightly. The vivid blue eyes assessed him. “I don’t care what you like or don’t like. You will stay away from me. You will not touch me. Ever.”
The words came to Trev edged with hate. He said, “I’m not even supposed to be here. Hopefully I’ll get out soon anyway.”
Khim looked away.
Trev came over to the bunk, noticing that Khim’s body tensed as he got closer. “I call dibs on the top,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant and keep things light.
But it was already too late.
Khim snarled, “Dibs. Are you twelve?”
Trev decided to play along. “Twenty-three.” He went to the end of the beds and looked at the structure. It was nothing to him. He could climb sheer walls if need be. He put his hand on the upper frame and pushed, drew his body into a curve, and flexed as he jumped, landing on the top bunk in a neatly seated position.
Khim ignored him, picking up his kit and moving to the sink to unpack it.
Trev watched him, taking in every detail of the android—no, the man. They really were not androids in any sense of that term. Their bodies were clones, mixes of whatever DNA their clients might want. He wondered where this one came from.
Quietly he asked, “Are you really vat grown? From a warehouse somewhere?”
“Definitely. One of the lie-down models. Can’t you tell?” Sarcasm twitched his lips.
“No,” Trev said, ignoring the sarcasm. “You’re not pliant enough, nor have the temperament for it.”
“You don’t know me. Don’t act ignorant. They make models for all needs. You should know.”
“I don’t know. Why should I know? I’ve never owned an android.”
Khim didn’t answer. He finished putting his things on the shelf and approached the bed. Trev watched him sit on the edge of the lower bunk.
Trev leaned back against the cold wall. “I don’t understand what I did to make you hate me. Other than being human, that is.”
“I was made to be a soldier. I hate everyone equally. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“So I was right. You aren’t a lie-down model. Were you in the star wars? The military?”
“I know how to efficiently kill in 152 ways, with or without a weapon. So you best be careful around me.”
Trev’s eyes widened, but he almost laughed. If the android really were dangerous to others, he would not be here, would he? He would’ve been put down immediately. Wouldn’t he? Trev’s skin prickled. “I’ll remember that.”
He took a deep breath and thought about the doctor running the scanner, talking about intimate internal injuries. Pictured the incongruous metal hand. The hand might’ve been the result of military combat, but the other? “Is that how you got injured?”
“You can shut up now.”
Changing the subject, Trev said, “I shouldn’t be here. I stole something. It was completely nonviolent. I was to go to the sister facility, North Star. They call it ‘the resort.’ But instead I got sent here. I don’t know what happened. A mix-up.”
“I don’t care.”
Trev saw Khim pull his legs up from the floor. He figured he was either sitting back now or lying down. Trev said, “I need to find out what happened. Then you’ll be rid of me when they realize their mistake.”
“Yes. You said that. Now shut up.”
“We’re stuck in this tiny cell together. We should at least try to get along.”
“I don’t require that or want it. Nor do I wish to speak further with you.”
Trev was mystified. His charm and unthreatening demeanor always pulled people in when he wanted it to. “I’m not really a bad guy, okay?”
“Shut up.”
“I am not your enemy.”
“Yes, you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
>
“What does that mean?” Trev asked lightly.
Suddenly he felt movement, saw Khim come up like a dark shadow over the top bunk as if he’d teleported there, his bent knees holding him balanced on the edge, his fist coming forward.
Trev reacted instinctively and caught the fist—the flesh one, not the metal—which impacted with a smack against his lifted palm only inches from his face.
“I said shut up. I’ll knock you out if I have to.”
“I can fight,” Trev said, still leaning against the wall, legs crossed, knees up. He knew the moves, of course, and he was fast, but right now his body was trembling. He hoped Khim couldn’t feel it. In any hand-to-hand, Trev was good, but not against the superiority of a soldier-programmed android.
Khim poised on the edge of Trev’s bunk, so close to him now, almost fevered with fury. His skin had a glowing sheen and was so smooth and perfect it looked like gold satin.
Trev leaned back. Their hands were still connected. One push from Trev and he might be able to unbalance the bigger man. After a few long seconds, they dropped their arms at the same time. Their eyes held each other in another kind of combat. Trev did not want to be the first to look away, but the day had been long. The worst day of his life. He’d always been alone, but now he felt that more than ever. And this unfriendly and dangerous android, an anomaly in any prison, was his cellmate. His eyes stung. He glanced down, lashes shadowing sudden unshed tears.
Khim’s full, beautiful mouth twisted, became ugly. He bounced back and jumped to the floor. Trev heard the impact like a shot.
Khim disappeared into his bunk again.
Trev moved until he lay supine, head on his pillow. He looked steadily at the glowing ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to slow, the shaking to stop.
This time, he shut up.
Chapter Eight
KHIM’S HEIGHTENED sense of smell detected the acrid edge of fear and the scent of cold salt as the eyes trained on him went into an overproduction of moisture. His other senses detected a faint muscle tremble. Yet the man named Trev sat calm on the top bunk, holding his gaze with irises the color of the dark plains of Umbria. Umbria had been Khim’s last planetfall before Doom in Shadow exploded, before arriving at Gideon’s cloud cities that harbored deep, secret dungeons.
The Android and the Thief Page 7