by Gini Koch
“My mother.” Felt cold and enraged, even though we’d realized this was what the Kitty-Bot’s initial job had been way back when during Operation Fugly. Just really didn’t enjoy hearing someone casually discuss killing my parents, call me Sally Sensitive.
“Yes. It didn’t work.”
“It wasn’t really given time to work.”
“No, it wasn’t, but at that time, we had so many options.” He shrugged, at least as much as Siler would allow. “You were on international news. You stopped being no one and became someone. The idea of the test was that it wouldn’t be noticed. You foiled that.”
“Thankfully,” White said.
Trevor shrugged again and winced. “Every war has winners and losers.”
Another song. This one was “Her Diamonds” by Rob Thomas. Sent a thank you to Algar for the memory nudge.
“True enough. Related question. Marion Villanova had robot plans that she shredded and left in her apartment for her co-conspirators to find. We found them first. We put them back together. They, too, are factory worthy and factory ready, but they don’t match up completely to what’s coming out of the Bot Factory, either, other than in one way. Thoughts? As in, tell us what’s going on with those.”
“I’d assume they were modified versions of the first model. You must understand—we all tinkered. Fix a plan here, make a new one there, modify this, change that. Just because the plans you found aren’t a complete match doesn’t mean they weren’t the basis for creation. It just means what you found was an upgraded model.”
“Well, per what we’ve found, there are five levels of Bots, so this actually tracks.”
“Of course it does. What’s the similarity your people found?”
“These robots need diamonds in their brains. The Fem-Bot Factory has lots of diamonds. Well, had. They were confiscated.”
“Really?” For the first time since I’d started this line of questioning he seemed interested.
“Yes. And I’m kind of surprised you seem surprised. Monica, Marion, and Marcia, aka the Three M’s, all seemed to have donated their diamonds to the cause. And these robots were supposedly easy enough to build that literally anyone could make them.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re certain?”
“Per those who verified the plans, I could make one without breaking a sweat. As long as I had enough diamonds.”
“Those thieves!” This was a new one. Even Siler looked shocked.
“Um, come again?”
“They’re using my plans for a revised supersoldier. I discarded it as too expensive to be functional. Diamonds aren’t in endless supply, meaning the number of supersoldiers created would be limited.”
“So, these were next-gen supersoldiers? Because the ones I’ve met were hella big, had an iron shell, and a squishy superbeing center. No diamonds or anything else nice. And I opened many of their cans, so to speak.”
“Yes. Madeleine was all-in on those. I, however, felt that the main issue with them was never resolved in a satisfactory manner.”
“You mean that the moment the superbeing could get out of the shell it tried to kill everything, especially those who’d put it into the shell?”
“Exactly so. My work on the next-generation supersoldiers was, as I said, discarded. Since it had been something Madeleine had approached the government with, the plans were locked away. Monica asked to review the plans for the original robot and these as well, but I refused to allow it. She had plenty to work with without those.”
“Well, they got them without your permission somehow. Possibly by Monica being the Secretary of State and all that. And they destroyed said plans.” In a weird way, too, but that seemed to be Team Shadow’s modus operandi.
“Lunatics,” he muttered. Managed not to say that it totally took one to know one and only succeeded because “Neutron Wireless Crystal” by Swimming came on. Algar was really helping me with the memory banks.
“So, speaking of the Shadow and their team’s playing dirty—”
“Excuse me, who?”
“The Shadow. That’s his or her name now. It’s easier than The Other Mastermind Who Is Not Cliff Goodman, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I do. I’m sorry, I should have caught that. I, ah, believe that Benjamin may have nicked my neck, for the third time, I might add, which is why I’ve lost focus.”
“Be glad that’s all I’ve done,” Siler said in the voice I now felt he should trademark or patent. Trevor went back to pasty white. Yeah, it was a good voice.
“So, back on track here, Trevor. About the Shadow—did you create or do you know of a polymer or similar that can divide and can also shapeshift?”
His eyes widened. “It doesn’t sound familiar,” he said eagerly, “but I’d need more to go on.”
Why not? Either he’d helped create the Christopher-Bot or he might have some insight into what was going on there. Did a fast recap of that situation. “So, it’s the same stuff that was being used at the NSA black site to keep our people contained. But those are the only places I’ve seen it. And it’s definitely destroyed by fire.”
“It’s not Earth-created,” he said firmly. “There are things on Earth that could do one or the other, but not to the level of autonomy that you’ve described and currently not both. And I doubt the technical acumen and expertise of whoever Janelle is working with—this sounds far above a robotics assembly line. This also isn’t something that I had or that LaRue had because, believe me, we’d have both used it, so it’s not from the Alpha Centauri system, nor from the Z’porrah, nor the Ancients.”
“Anciannas,” White said, returning the Teacher Politely Correcting A Student voice with a strong backhanded volley. Managed not to give him a high-five, but it took effort.
“Whatever,” Trevor snapped as the ball bounced in front of him and out of his side of the court. “At any rate, it’s not something that’s been around too long. Beyond that, I have nothing, because you probably know more about the aliens from the other systems than I do.”
Considering it was now one of my jobs, had to admit that I probably did, albeit unwillingly. “So, the Shadow has an alien benefactor from outside of the systems we’d expect.”
“I’d have said to look to the Anciannas if I didn’t know that there was no way LaRue would have or could have hidden a material with these properties,” Trevor said. “Natural shapeshifters would have the edge, I’d think, on this creation.”
“Beta Twelve?” White asked me.
“No way would anyone there be working with our enemies. Well, let me rephrase—it’s not Renata, Rahmi, or Rhee. And here ends the number of Free Women who’ve been allowed to legally leave their planet. The last time any took off illegally, Renata was right behind them. And she’d have told us about this kind of scientific breakthrough and she has not. Meaning this isn’t coming from Beta Twelve.”
“I agree,” Trevor said. “Without examining it, the substance doesn’t sound like something we have in our systems, so it would require someone from elsewhere bringing in the materials. I strongly suggest you verify which of the new alien races that are here on Earth are able to shapeshift or similar, because I’d be willing to bet that they’re the ones who’ve helped the Shadow to use this substance.”
“You think it is or isn’t a polymer?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not from this planet. Call it whatever you like, but assume you don’t know the extent of what it can do, including if it’s sentient or not.”
“Ick. But, good point.” Had no idea what to do with the Christopher-Bot the Second.
“Keep the one you have under lock, key, and observation,” Trevor said, apparently reading my mind. “Something like that shouldn’t be allowed autonomy.”
“This from the man making cyborgs?”
“Yes. Weapons should not have autonomy, and
that thing is a weapon.”
“Can’t argue with you there.”
“In terms of cyborg technology, I firmly believe in the idea that the merging of organic and inorganic is the wave of the future. Autonomy is, therefore, a requirement. Clifford and LaRue’s cloning methods were impressive. However, once the data for how to build the brain storage and cloning chambers was lost, all else was lost. With the cyborgs we have the method working smoothly, and if you destroy one base, we can rebuild in another, because we haven’t written the data down by hand and kept it in binders in an underground bunker.” Trevor definitely had a sarcasm knob and his went well past eleven.
“Aren’t you worried we’ll hack into your system and steal it?”
“You could. But since I’ve patented it, you’ll be hard-pressed to win the lawsuit.”
Stared at him. “You’ve patented this?”
“I have. Stephanie is on the patent, too.” He smiled at me. “The beginning of her journey has truly begun. Don’t sell us short—very soon now you’ll be signing our contracts, whether for yourselves or others.”
“Such as the military,” White said. Trevor nodded. Carefully.
“I feel all tingly. So, in that vein, you mentioned that others currently are selling me short. Which others? As in, name names.”
“Everyone you were speaking with this evening, the ones who are friends with Janelle and her cronies.”
“Death Dealers” by Discharge came on. Could hear Algar saying “duh.” Loudly. Trevor’s expression said “duh” as well, also loudly. Chose to forge on and refuse to be embarrassed about verifying suppositions. That was my story and I was sticking with it.
“The Dealers of Death? Yeah, okay, I was thinking that they seemed remarkably unwilling to try to use me as the weak link.”
“They are. They don’t feel that they need to curry your favor to succeed.”
“They seem to be succeeding without us, yeah.”
“It won’t last. They should do what I’m doing, which is broker a truce. Otherwise, you’ll beat them as you have everyone else. I expect you’ll beat Myron and his noxious friends, too.”
“You’re not one with the whole purity of the race thing? I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t care about it in the way that Ronald did. I understand why he felt as he did, but I believe that the possibilities are greater the more different options are available to us. That includes races and such. I may feel, correctly, that we from Alpha Four are far smarter than most other races, but you all still provide something into the mix. And that something is worthwhile.”
“Gosh, you’re like the King Of The Backhanded Compliments, aren’t you? So, to circle back on things you expect us to simply take at face value, why would Stephanie wire Ansom and Talia? And, seriously, don’t lie.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please let me kill him,” Siler begged.
“Benjamin, if I die, the information about yourself, all the things you don’t know, dies with me.”
“Wolverine found the will to go on, Ben, so don’t let that stop you. However, I still have questions. And statements. Such as: Trevor—pull the other one. I don’t believe that Stephanie’s acting alone and is the only shooter. I’m just betting there are things going on up on that grassy knoll that you know about. So spill it or Ben spills your blood, oil, and wires.”
“What have you found inside them?” Trevor asked.
“Nothing. Other than the wires. Nothing we can identify, at least.”
“Hence, as I said, I don’t know.” But his eyes weren’t meeting mine.
Prince growled low. Now Trevor smelled like lies. “Good boy. Extra biscuits for that dog. You’re lying, Trevor. Truth, now. Or death now. You pick.”
Heard a step behind me. “Oh, that’s not something you need to worry about.”
CHAPTER 79
SPUN AROUND TO SEE JEFF, followed by Chuckie, Christopher, Buchanan, Evalyne, Phoebe, Joseph, and Rob. Clearly the cavalry was here.
“Why not?”
“Because we know he’s lying, baby.” Jeff gave me a kiss on the cheek. “But knowing who did the work gives us plenty to go on.”
“Does it? Good to know, I guess. How long have you guys been lurking back there?”
“Long enough. You can put the guns away. Siler can and will kill Trevor there faster than you can shoot.” Jeff didn’t sound like he disapproved of this at all.
“So, did you hear about the Van Dyke stuff?” I asked as White and I put our guns back and Prince demanded petting from Jeff.
“We did,” Jeff confirmed as he squatted down and vigorous pets were given while Prince shared his love of all things Jeff.
“I sent the information to Stryker,” Chuckie said. “We should know soon if there’s a money trail.” His phone beeped. He looked at it and grunted. “I love A-C systems. The money trail is hidden but clear enough. Trevor here is telling the truth. About that.”
“Wow, I’m amazed. So, are we letting him go, then?”
“Not just no, but hell no,” Jeff said pleasantly as he stood up. “We’ll deal with whatever it is Stephanie thinks she’s going to throw at us.”
“Trevor did deal with us, and shared information with the idea that we’d call a truce.” Felt compelled to point this out. He’d given us some good intel.
Saw Siler’s eyebrow raise, just a bit. Moved my head casually to see who he was signaling. Buchanan. Who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“No, baby,” Jeff said patiently. “He dealt with you and Uncle Richard. Who are not in positions to grant clemency to terrorists. I am, Chuck is, and your mother is. We’re agreed—it’s not happening.”
“Benjamin, if they lock me up, I won’t tell you what you know you want to know,” Trevor said urgently. “I won’t help Kitty ever again, either. If I’m out, I can be an asset. You know this. She knows this. Richard even knows this.”
“Stop insulting my uncle’s intelligence,” Jeff said. “It’s not helping your cause.”
“Benjamin . . . answers you seek, help you know you’ll need. Or a war I don’t want and, if you’re honest, you don’t want, either.”
Siler looked directly at me. “He’s right.” Then they both disappeared from view.
“I can’t see him!” Jeff shouted.
“Grab him!” Chuckie shouted. “That’s an order!”
Buchanan lunged and was knocked into Joseph and Rob, who knocked into Phoebe and Evalyne.
Once everyone was on their feet, the room remained devoid of Siler or Trevor. “Um . . .”
Chuckie put up his hand. Closed my mouth and no one spoke. Instead, DJ Algar spun the Rolling Stones again, this time “Waiting On a Friend.”
The song finished and “Everlasting Friend” by Blue October started before Siler returned. He still had his big knife. He nodded to everyone as Buchanan handed him a sheath that appeared to be made out of metal, not leather. “It’s handled.”
“Why the big show?” I asked as Siler put the big knife away. The sheath blinked red, then blue, then white. How patriotic. Confusing, but patriotic.
“What do you mean?” Chuckie asked.
“The whole Nightcrawler saves Trevor at the last minute crap. I don’t get it. I mean, I’m sure I speak for Richard, too, when I say that the whole shtick was obvious. To us. Presumably not to Trevor. But Christopher didn’t even move, so we’re clear that it was all theater. I just don’t know why anyone felt the need to do it.”
“What Missus Martini said.”
“Ah. The President can’t make a deal like Trevor wanted. Not with a terrorist. The CIA can, but not the President.”
“Um, Chuckie? Did you not realize we’ve made exactly that deal with Gadhavi?”
“But we haven’t,” Buchanan said. “Gadhavi came to us openly, taking the deal you offered of goin
g straight, giving us information, and working with our government.”
“Trevor offered pretty much the same thing. And, um, just in case you guys are mad at me for giving up any of what might be our proprietary intel, I wanted to get what I could from him while we had him, because who knows when we’ll get another chance.”
“It’s okay,” Chuckie said. “I agree that you got more than you gave.”
Christopher shot Patented Glare #2 at the room. “Seriously, why are you not just telling her? Kitty, we figure we’ll get more out of Trevor this way, and that’s the excuse that you, my dad, and Siler can use whenever you’re dealing with him—that you’re not in positions to grant clemency of any kind.”
“Um, huh? Sorry to seem dense, but Richard, Nightcrawler, and I were getting plenty.”
Buchanan nodded. “Yes, you were. But the moment that man thinks he’s got the upper hand, all the information will stop.”
“We needed to be sure that he respected you and is terrified of me,” Siler said.
“Dude, mission accomplished in terms of his terror. My respect I’m not so sure about.”
“Oh, I am.” Siler grinned. “We had a little chat. Trevor now believes that I care about whatever information he thinks he’s holding back from me, and he’s also clear that you’re now the one and only person who can stop the rest of us from going after him and Stephanie. Therefore, he’s going to want to give you what you want, when you want it, or we’ll just capture them both.”
And kill them both, but chose not to say that aloud, in part because I wasn’t sure if Jeff had agreed to that portion of the overall plan. Knew without asking that Buchanan and Chuckie had. Mom probably had, too.
“Can we really find them if and when they move?”
“Well, we can now,” Buchanan said. “Because Ben got the targeting parasite into him. So your worry about giving away too much is moot. If they try to take action on anything you told them, we’ll know.”
“Excuse me? Did you say parasite?”