What Are You Made Of?

by Gary Starta

  “I am going as well. I’ve got to see my wife and son,” Aaron stated in a subdued tone. Matt nodded silently placing a hand on his shoulder. Aaron received a hug from Linda before joining Sanderson in the field.

  The coach lifted off with no occupant taking his or her eyes off one another. Linda was the first to break the silence. Placing one hand by her mouth to conceal her lip movements, she whispered to her husband that Steven had gone to turn off all the androids.

  “How long did you know about this?” Matt countered.

  “I’ve known about if for months. The scientists had to be replaced by androids because of radiation poisoning. It was the only way to save the mission. I didn’t want the federation to abort the colonization over this.”

  “Now we might be the ones getting aborted,” Matt pointed out.

  “Well let’s see if we can stop this maniac, Petrovsky. If Steve isn’t successful, then it’s up to us. I want everybody focusing on a way to stop this bastard.”

  “I can’t believe you’re taking this in stride, Matt.”

  “I am in management mode now, my dear. And besides, this is a hell of a lot more interesting to solve than any corporate negotiation I ever handled.” Matt offered a small grin and embraced his wife. “In negotiations, you always learn to expect the unexpected. And Linda, you are the unexpected.” The pair fell into the lap of Terry Sanderson as the ship negotiated a sharp turn.

  As the ship continued to maneuver on autopilot, an array of uncomfortable feelings overtook the remaining passengers.

  “So we’re androids. That explains a lot,” Anna Ciprelli stated as if she were in a fog. Akira Hiroshi shared Anna’s shock wave of embarrassment. The doctor’s eyes fell to the floor as Karen reached to take his hand.

  Meanwhile, the White’s kept a wary eye on Nadia Petrovsky who remained in stunned silence.

  Marisa had been bound to the front passenger seat of the air coach Mikola had commandeered. Petrovsky instantly regretted his decision not to gag his hostage as the vehicle took the skies. Perez did not move a muscle to fight her restraints. Instead, she launched into a verbal attack of the demented engineer.

  “I remember seeing you on the Terran Ark’s data base. You gave some fanatical speech about exploration being all about conquest. I also remember that you lost your job and sued the association because you were replaced by an automaton. Is you ask me, your profile was pretty boring all in all. You’re not the first man to hold a grudge.”

  Mikola did not answer Marisa right away. He removed his red cap and turned it around so its visor pointed to his back. He then cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “My hatred of cybernetic creatures goes deeper than that. But yes, I do have a grievance with the way they ruined my career. How can I expect to command respect when my human mind is trapped within this soulless contraption?”

  “If I’m hearing you correctly, you’re saying your life was saved by the androids. Don’t you see that?” Marisa charged.

  “I despise the type of salvation they gave me. This phony body I am in sickens me. But I had to remain alive so McElroy and his supporters would pay for his motherless creations. Now, don’t you want to ask me what I intend to do you with you?”

  “That would be too cliché,” Perez retorted. “Besides, I see you’re much too self-absorbed to talk about me.”

  “Then enough with the questions already,” Petrovsky stammered.

  “And enough with this lunacy, you sick bastard. I do want to know why you gunned down that mechanical boy. If he contained these— what do you call them?—engrams, you may have killed another human being.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t kill a body. I killed a thing. I just want to give the universe back to the people. You know I’m a humanitarian at heart,” Mikola explained clutching his chest. “Well, at least I was when I had a real heart. It’s not too late to join my army.”

  “You mean the psychotic—shoot at an unarmed boy in an open field—kind of army. I think I’ll pass,” Marisa said scornfully.

  Petrovsky grimaced at his passenger’s reaction and started to fiddle with his cap. “Don’t you have faith in nature? We weren’t meant to evolve into this. We were meant to get by on our ingenuity. You’re not thinking this through, my child” His pleas were then interrupted by a chime indicating the receipt of an incoming transmission.

  Mikola patched the communique through with disgust.

  “What do you people want? I have explained my demands already.”

  Linda’s image then appeared on a screen located on the coach’s dashboard. “I want communication. I want to negotiate so you can get what you want without hurting anybody else.”

  “Ah, so you must be Ms. Dougherty, the counselor. Now what exactly do you think you can counsel me on? The Organics will never yield. So you’re wasting your breath. You’re also wearing on my nerves. I will warn you only once to drop out of pursuit. If you don’t, I will severely injure my gorgeous sidekick.”

  Before Linda could reply, Mario shouted at Matt to comply. “Drop away from them. He’s got my wife,” Mario pleaded. “I also don’t like

  the sexual connotations he’s making about her.”

  Matt reluctantly followed Petrovsky’s demands.

  “Just make damn sure you don’t hurt a hair on her head,” Mario threatened just before the communication was severed.

  Back on the ground, Jon Sanderson was attending to Joyce who was confined to lying on the ground. Aaron knelt by her side, taking her hand into his.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she pleaded to Sanderson. “Go to my son.” Sanderson hesitated another minute as his nose picked up the scent of smoke. The plastic surgeon knew Petrovsky had fired a fatal shot to the boy’s head. The prognosis would not be optimistic whether the victim was android, human, or a mixture of both. Ruby the bug hovered over the boy’s body. The bug transmitted a single beam of light into James’ eyes in a desperate attempt to awake him.

  Steven Carlisle’s heart beat wildly in his chest. His journey to the radio shack would take twice as long as Petrovsky’s trip to Terran’s Ark. As Carlisle pushed the coach’s engines to their limit, he cursed himself for complaining that the challenges of his Holo-Voyage game were lame.

  Linda Dougherty did not like feeling helpless. After a few minutes of mulling over Petrovsky’s demands, she decided another course of action must be taken. “Matt, isn’t there some way we can jam Terran Ark’s communication system to prevent him from sending a message to Earth?”

  “I’m not sure if I like that plan,” Mario pointed out. “If he can’t transmit his demands, he’ll likely take that frustration out on Marisa.”

  “Mario, please hear out all proposals,” Matt spoke consolingly. I don’t even know if we can stop Petrovsky’s transmissions. However, I do know we can command the ship’s AI to keep his hands full until we can figure this situation out.” Matt then worked feverishly to send orders to the AI.

  Petrovsky ordered his air coach to land while untying Marisa from her chair. In a New York minute, the two were on foot to the ship which was parked less than 100 meters away.

  “Give me your hand,” Mikola demanded of his hostage. “Don’t fight me on this or I’ll just cut it off and stick it on the ship’s access panel without you.”

  Petrovsky required Marisa’s hand print to gain access into the ship. The engineer was confident he would soon be aboard the hi-tech vessel. He would then convince the federation to provide him with a new human body. If not, they would witness the slaughter of all the Ceres colonists.

  After Petrovsky removed Marisa’s hand from the access panel, the feisty young woman used it to slap Petrovsky in the face.

  “You’ll eventually thank me for ridding this planet of its vermin.” Petrovsky then led his hostage to the ship’s bridge.

  It took another two minutes to arrive at the entrance to the bridge. Petrovsky once again took Marisa’s unwilling hand to gain access.

  A devilish smile filled his
face as the doors parted to allow entry. He threw Perez onto the floor and headed for a console to send his message to Earth with his wand in hand.

  Mikola pecked furiously at a control pad to begin an up link with the main computer. Immersed in thought, Petrovsky did not notice that a hose was moving on top of him like a snake. A sudden burst of water was released from the device quickly drenching everything in its path per orders of Matt Dougherty.

  The wand Petrovsky was holding acted as an electrical conductor. A current of electrical energy instantaneously traveled from the wand into his body. The android convulsed as lightning bolts cascaded in random patterns around the circumference of its body. Petrovsky tried in vain to drop the wand which held him captive to the electrocution. Marisa looked on with disbelief as she could not fathom the random stroke of luck. This disbelief caused her to waste several valuable seconds she could have used to escape.

  Before Marisa could act to reach the doors of the bridge, Petrovsky had managed to drop his wand. His body staggered to its feet with an iron determination. Step by awkward step he proceeded to narrow the distance between himself and Marisa who stumbled to the floor paralyzed with fear.

  Steven jumped out of the air coach before it could complete its landing. The radio shack was less than 50 meters away. Adrenaline fueled his body as he launched into an all out sprint to reach it. Huffing and puffing, Carlisle blessed the stars that the door to the small building opened without use of a code. He dashed inside to begin the frantic search for the control panel.

  Marisa began to slide on her stomach to inch herself away from her attacker. Her eyes scanned the room for assistance. The end of the water hose lay just a meter from her grasp. If she could just position it to turn it on Mikola one more time it might be enough to damage his circuitry.

  She had just a split second to make the decision. Should she fail in her attempt to douse Petrovsky, Marisa knew her chances of escaping the bridge were dismal. Perez reached deep down into her soul to call upon her animal-like survival skills. Angered by the fact that her parents would not miss her whether she was alive or dead, she forcefully grasped the hose and pointed it at her deranged captor.

  Marisa managed to splash a burst of water into Mikola’s face but it did not stop the mad man. In fact, the soaking only caused the half android/half man—all asshole, to became further enraged.

  Fortunately for Marisa, the ship’s AI intervened once again to throw Petrovsky off balance. The ship’s invisible caretaker released the moorings from the captain’s chair and sent it careening into Petrovsky causing the android to stumble. This time, Perez took the opportunity to race out the doors which opened via a motion detector.

  “Where’s this damn shut-off?” Steven shouted aloud. He pulled at several access panels hoping to uncover the device which would end Mikola Petrovsky’s reign of terror. On his fourth try, Steven took a sigh of relief as he found several buttons marked “android control.”

  His initial sense of relief lasted a mere few seconds as Steven found three unmarked buttons.

  “Which one is it?” he cried in panic. “There’s a green one, red one and a black one. I know green generally means activate and red stands for stop. But what if black is the stop function? What if I pick the wrong one and I command them to do something even more horrific?”

  Steven paused to take a breath. He attempted to think like the top commander on his computer-simulated game.

  “When you’re in command. You have to be decisive,” Steven announced out loud. “Lives are in the balance. Well, here goes nothing.” He then placed his hand over the red button.

  Mikola Petrovsky recovered quickly from his drenching. Dr. McElroy had designed the android’s circuitry to reroute power in the event of damage. This was an unfortunate bit of news for those on the side of humanity. The maniacal android bolted out of the bridge’s doors in the hunt for his runaway hostage.

  His desire to inflict great suffering overcame the pains in his body caused by the damaged circuits. In a few seconds, Mikola came to the end of a corridor. Did Marisa go left or right?

  He chose left as his mind calculated this would be the quickest escape route to the ship’s main doors. Petrovsky’s scheming mind was right on the money. Marisa screamed with terror as she heard the heavy footsteps bearing down on her location. She could not bear to turn around and face her enemy. Petrovsky suddenly had a new unexplained ability. He was able to shoot bolts of lightning from his fingertips. His first shot narrowly missed Maria’s skull. The beam of light harmlessly danced off the corridor’s wall before turning invisible. The next shot caught Perez square in the back and knocked her down to her knees. Mikola did not waste time to turn his victim to face him. He hopped like a demented rabbit onto the back of Marisa and proceeded to put a choke hold on her.

  Marisa tried in vein to tip Petrovsky off her back. She did not have much time as her wind pipe was being cut off. A silent gasp for air was all that could be heard as Mikola tightened his grip.

  As Marisa’s face began to turn blue, her attacker suddenly started to loosen his grip on her throat. Petrovsky had gone into a convulsion. An anguished groan was the last sound Mikola uttered before tumbling like a doll to the ground with a heavy thud. Marisa rolled onto her back and spent the next five minutes gasping for air.

  The rest of the androids on Ceres also lost consciousness and fell to the ground like they were hit by a metric ton of bricks. Steven had successfully transmitted a deactivation signal into all of the automaton’s brains.

  Chapter 7: Bluff or Fold

  Armed with evidence from the World Aeronautics Association, CSI’s Morton and Benson raced back to the crime lab like two cops trying to reach a donut shop before closing time.

  The proof was in the pudding as the saying goes as Sam Evan’s testimony about the genetically-altered skin samples, the residual traces of the laser gun fire and the contents of the robot’s internal log all confirmed foul play. After six hours of processing, the CSI’s were ready to face their nemesis—Renee Mercer. The security executive had armed himself to the teeth with legal counsel knowing full well that no traces of his DNA would be found on any tangible evidence. Mercer intended to play this fact like a trump card in a game of poker. He knew the investigators would have to use some serious bluffing techniques to get him to indict himself. Hell, this was a game he had invented. He did not intend to be tripped up—especially with the assistance from the best attorney money could buy.

  Morton and Benson were operating on caffeine and adrenaline after pulling a 24 hour shift. The weariness showed in their eyes as they entered the interrogation room holding Mercer and his high-priced lawyer, Rashad Abdul Sayed. Renee once again smelled blood in the water. He could sense they didn’t have enough to nail him with the killings. The best they could do was probably charge him with conspiracy based upon Turner’s confession. Even if the prosecutor could make that charge stick, there was still no proof that Mercer turned a weapon on anybody.

  Mercer offered a sinister smile to Benson whose weariness caused him to display a momentary burst of rage. Samuel pulled out the chair tucked underneath the interrogation table like the piece of furniture had been stuck to the floor with glue. Samuel’s display pleased Renee who then shot a wink at Morton. Mercer thought to himself that he was still at the top of the game. “I’ll just divide and conquer. These amateurs don’t know how I can play them like a deck of cards.”

  Sandra’s face revealed nothing but placid determination despite Renee’s best attempts to rattle her. This was just one of the hundreds of times the lead CSI had faced a piece of scum who either believed he was above the law or that a lack of evidence would set him back on the streets. In this case, both assumptions applied equally to the accused aeronautics executive.

  “Well, let’s hear what you have on my client” Sayed asked confidently.

  “I’d prefer to let the evidence speak for itself,” Morton answered without making eye contact with the cocky lawyer. />
  “I will let you know that we have enough on Mr. Mercer to charge him with being an accessory to multiple murders. So even if your client escapes the death penalty, the pristine reputation he holds so dear will most definitely be tarnished in the eyes of the federation. Maybe the government will be so appalled with his behavior that they will revoke the agency’s contract to oversee the space program. I understand billions of dollars hang in the balance concerning your investors. If I were you, Mr. Sayed, I would make sure the funding used to pay your retainer fee came from Mr. Mercer himself. If we find that agency funds were used to pay for your services, we can revoke the license of the association faster than Dana Jackson became a celebrity. Does that answer your question, counselor?”

  Sayed backed down from the sleep deprived investigator like a mouse cowering into a corner from a cat. He didn’t have to call upon his years of experience to tell him he had come up against a formidable opponent in Morton.

  The forensic veteran then proceeded to stack the evidence upon the table the way a teacher overloads disruptive students with multiple homework assignments.

  After Morton finished her presentation, Sayed knew the investigators were just a few moves away from checkmate. The detectives had sufficient grounds to bring the case to trial. If Sayed had any hope of finding a loop hole in their accusations, now was the time to act.

  “Well Ms. Morton, this conspiracy story of yours is certainly fascinating. But I believe my client will be exonerated by a jury. You are only working on supposition and that won’t convince a jury that Paterson and Schmitt were murdered by Mr. Mercer. You still have no weapon containing any DNA from my client. If skin cells were procured at the agency—as you say, there may be another suspect out there. Maybe this other person holds a grudge against Mr. Mercer. That would provide a valid motive as anybody who works in law enforcement will make an enemy or two. As for Mr. Jackson, no body has been found to prove he was killed. Maybe the gun fire you tracked in the lab was fired at somebody else. You cannot prove these guns killed Jackson. Furthermore, the robot’s maintenance log indicates another employee’s DNA was used to gain access to the automaton. Where is the proof that it was Mr. Jackson? And if it was Mr. Jackson, the association had every right to use deadly force if necessary to subdue the terrorist.”