Sunrise Alley

by Catherine Asaro

  Turner was watching her face. After a pause that went on too long, he said, "Yes, Charon told me." He had the restrained quality she recognized now; he was tweaking the truth. He had probably picked up Charon's opinion from the copy in his matrix. That she could read Turner so well implied he was more human than machine; otherwise, he could have simulated less emotion, so he didn't give himself away.

  Sam rubbed the back of her neck, working on the muscle kinks. "Thomas, I need to talk with Turner alone."

  "I don't think it is wise," Thomas said.

  "Oh, why the hell not?" Sam said. "You're going to listen on monitors anyway."

  The lights flickered.

  "What the blazes?" Thomas spoke to one of the guards. "Lieutenant Dreymore, check that brownout with operations."

  "Right away, sir." The lieutenant turned over his hand, which was sheathed in a black glove, and traced his finger over a panel woven in its mesh.

  As Dreymore worked, Sam discreetly studied Turner. Was he tampering with the power here? If he ran off from this place like he had from everywhere else, she was going to scorch his ears when she caught up with him.

  Turner shook his head slightly, his face puzzled. He didn't seem to know what was happening any more than she did.

  Thomas was watching them. "I'd sure be curious to know what that exchange meant."

  Sam flushed. Busted. Thomas could read her just as well as she could read him. "I wondered if Turner caused that brownout. He said no."

  Thomas glanced at the lieutenant. "Dreymore?"

  The guard looked up from his glove. "Everything appears fine, sir. Just a power glitch."

  "Keep checking," Thomas said.

  "Yes, sir."

  Thomas considered Turner. "My people say they can't even fully analyze all the systems in your body. They think you've been shifting things around, building your own biomech components. Care to tell us what you're doing?"

  "Why?" Turner asked. "You'll keep at me until you figure it out anyway."

  "We don't want to cause you harm," O'Reilly said. "Neither physical nor emotional."

  Turner's gaze became intent. "Then you admit it is possible to cause a forma emotional harm."

  "At this point," O'Reilly said, "I don't know what to think. But yes, I acknowledge it."

  The lights went off.

  Thomas spoke sharply. "Dreymore, what's going on?"

  The glow of Dreymore's glove lit the room. "The situation is under control, sir. The submesh that runs the environment for this building is having problems. Security is on it. They'll have the lights back in a moment."

  Sam slanted a look at Turner. He seemed as baffled as everyone else, but she couldn't be sure. At Hockman, the element of surprise had given him an edge in his escape; in Iowa, the EIs had inadvertently helped when they linked him into their mesh. He no longer had surprise here and the NIA wouldn't willingly give him access to any mesh. This place undoubtedly blocked wireless signals. And Thomas's people would have already incorporated new defenses into their systems to counter what Turner had done at Hockman.

  Thomas studied Turner. "You have anything to do with this?"

  Turner met his gaze. "No. Nothing."

  The lights came back on.

  "Keep on it, Lieutenant," Thomas told Dreymore. "I'll need a full report as soon as possible."

  "Yes, sir. Right away." While Dreymore worked on his glove, the other guard stood ramrod straight by the door, his hand on the staser in a holster at his hip.

  Thomas turned to Sam. "You know I can't leave you alone with him."

  "I would never hurt her," Turner said hotly.

  Sam thought she had better diffuse their confrontation before they both started growling. "The mesh problems here might come from Sunrise Alley. If Bart is the EI that ran the Baltimore Arms Resources Theatre, he could know about this place."

  Thomas's face became neutral. "I wouldn't know."

  I'll bet, Sam thought. He wore that noncommittal look whenever he didn't intend to reveal information. To her, his lack of response gave away almost as much as if he had admitted he knew about Bart.

  Dreymore spoke to Thomas. "Sir, I've a message from General Chang. She's called a meeting, fifteen hundred hours, at the Pentagon."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." Thomas glanced at Sam. "You had better come back with me."

  Turner moved closer to her. "Why? Neither she nor I have done anything wrong."

  "If that's the case," Thomas said, "you won't mind talking with Dr. O'Reilly."

  "Why the hell should I talk to your shrink?"

  "Well, for one," Thomas said, "he's an expert in EIs. He might be able to tell you about yourself."

  Sam would have laughed if she hadn't felt so on edge right now. Thomas had hit on one of the few things that might convince Turner to cooperate—his curiosity about his own development.

  Turner wasn't fooled, though. "Or I might tell him about myself, eh? I've no interest in discussing my childhood traumas with your doctor."

  Sam laid her hand on his arm. "Turner, suppose Bart or the others break in here. They meant to kill me."

  He motioned at Thomas. "You think if I cooperate with these people it will help protect you?"

  "Yes. And you, too."

  "I need to talk to you alone."

  "You must realize we can't do that," Thomas said.

  Turner copied his tone exactly. "And you must realize I can't cooperate with you."

  Thomas lifted his hands, palms up, then dropped them again. "Why not? We're on your side."

  "I told you my condition." Turner put his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Get the justice of the peace and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

  Sam knew Thomas would refuse. If they let Turner marry, it would be a tacit acknowledgment of his humanity and citizenship. They were setting precedents and Thomas disliked haste. Acknowledging Turner's humanity would also make it that much harder to control him. Thomas was a man of principle, but she didn't doubt he had also thought what it would mean to have an army of Turners at his disposal.

  To her surprise, Thomas didn't immediately say no. Instead, he spoke to her. "Do you really want this?"

  Sam's throat tingled the way it did when she was nervous. "Yes."

  "It's crazy." He motioned at Turner. "Your father would be dismayed. You deserve someone who can be a true husband to you. A father to your children. A partner."

  "I appreciate your concern," Sam said. "But Thomas, I have to make those decisions for myself."

  "You must realize we can't do this," he said.

  "Sure you can," Turner told him. An edge came into his voice. "You won't because it makes it harder for you to use me."

  "That isn't true," O'Reilly said. "What you're asking has no precedent. We must consider the ramifications. The legalities. We can't rush into it."

  Had the bride been most anyone else, Sam wondered if they might have pretended to go along so they could gain Turner's cooperation. But that would never work with her involved.

  Thomas spoke to Sam. "We have to leave. I'm sorry."

  Turner started to respond, his face flushed, his body tensed. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he turned away from Thomas and drew Sam into his arms, she hugged him, wishing she had a solution to this mess.

  "We have to talk to them," she murmured.

  He didn't answer, he only kissed her, his lips warm, his arms ridged against her back. Her inclination to privacy would have made her pull away, but this might be her last chance to see him for a long time. So instead she molded against him, deepening the kiss.

  Someone cleared his throat. With reluctance, Sam let Turner go. "I'll see you soon."

  He looked down into her face. "Don't be long, okay?"

  "Okay." She intended to keep that promise.

  Then she left with Thomas.

  XVIII

  Country Jaunt

  Instead of returning to the lot, Thomas took Sam to an elevator.

  "Whe
re are we going?" she asked.

  "Roof. They sent a chopper." He watched her with concern. "Will you be all right with that?"

  She didn't see why he asked. "Of course."

  He seemed surprised. "Good."

  "Does General Chang want me in the meeting?"

  "I'm not sure yet."

  Sam hoped not; the more they asked about Turner, the more she struggled with her conflicted responses. She didn't want to betray his trust, but too much was at stake to hold back.

  The elevator whisked open. As they entered the car, Thomas said, "I wish I could convince you that we don't want to hurt Turner." He pressed the panel for the roof. "We want to understand him."

  Sam wasn't buying it. "You want to use him."

  He frowned. "You have a problem with our wanting knowledge that could help the country?"

  "No. You know me better than that. But if it comes at the price of denying his humanity, it's wrong." His question about the helicopter still bothered her. Why wouldn't she want to go in one? She couldn't stop thinking about it.

  "We aren't trying to deny his humanity, Sam. If he is human." Thomas raked his hand over his hair. "Too many questions are unanswered. We can't jump into this."

  "He's human."

  "We need more than your conviction."

  The doors slid open and wind blasted them, along with the growl of rotating blades. They ran to the waiting Redbird. She doubted she would ever grow used to traveling this way; the noise was bad enough, but it also bothered her to have so little separating her from the chasm of air outside the air craft. Heights disturbed her even more when she felt wind on her face.

  Heights disturbed her?

  It hit Sam like a gale rushing in, so strong it could sweep her over the building. Heights terrified her. Why hadn't she remembered? This was the first time in years she had thought about it. How the blazes could she forget?

  She had no chance to analyze. They had reached the Redbird and were climbing on board. Within seconds they were roaring into the sky. She held the front of her seat, her grip so tight, her knuckles turned white. Land spread out below, thick with cities, interstates, and traffic.

  As they flew on, the landscape became increasingly rural, until they were passing over farmland. It made no sense. They were supposed to be returning to the Pentagon near Washington, D.C. She felt too tense to speak, but Thomas was already fiddling with his glove anyway.

  He tapped through several menus, then spoke into the comm. "Who's up front?"

  No one answered.

  * * *

  "This is ridiculous." Thomas surveyed the woods that enclosed the clearing where the Redbird had set them down. "Someone must wonder by now what happened to us."

  Sam didn't answer; she was too busy breathing slowly, trying to calm her pulse, which had gone wild during the ride. How could she have forgotten how much she dreaded heights? It had come back with a vengeance.

  What else had she forgotten?

  Sweat broke out on her forehead. She couldn't do this. She had to turn her thoughts to another place. She had to escape. She concentrated on the Redbird. An AI must have landed the helicopter; as far as they could tell, it had no pilot. If Bart or Charon were involved, now they had Thomas, a hostage worth far more than most anyone else, including her. But taking a lieutenant general in broad daylight was far riskier than kidnapping Turner from an isolated field in the middle of the night. Maybe the EIs no longer cared about secrecy. They had become so intertwined with the world mesh, nothing could eradicate them now.

  Pah. A week ago she had been minding her own business, puttering around her beach, grouching at the world and otherwise enjoying her retirement. Her life since then had been over the top; she wanted this roller coaster to slow down, level out, and let her off.

  "That message from General Chang was fake," Sam said darkly. "We weren't expected anywhere."

  Thomas was scanning the area. "How do you know?"

  "I'm being realistic." Right now, she felt full of dire prophecies. "Our machines have figured out how much we depend on them. They're going to have a field day with us now."

  The breeze ruffled his silvered hair. "You think someone broke into the Pentagon mesh, sent a false message to Lieutenant Dreymore, took over this Redbird, downloaded a rogue AI into its brain, and dumped us here, all without my people twigging to it? Come on, Sam. It's impossible."

  "Yeah, well, you should have spent the last week with me. Impossible is my middle name now."

  Thomas scowled at her. "If this biomechanical lover of yours would unlock his systems and let us download his memories, we would have verification of last week."

  "He doesn't want you in his brain. It's called the right to privacy." Sam crossed her arms. "Acknowledge his rights as a human and he'll cooperate. Simple as that."

  "Nothing is simple about this." Thomas walked toward the woods, but after a few steps he swung around to her. "No matter what we call him, he's a security nightmare."

  "I know." She spoke slowly. "And I know you'll do whatever you think is necessary to defend this country. Which you should. It's your job. That's why you wear those stars on your shoulders. But I'm trying to do mine, too. No, it's more than that. Turner's not a job. He's a friend. More than a friend."

  "How do I convince you our intentions are benign?"

  "Let me and Turner marry."

  "You can't marry a forma." When she glared at him, he said, "No matter how high you arch those perfect eyebrows at me, it won't change the fact that he is a biomechanical creation."

  "He is my fiancé."

  Thomas made an exasperated noise. "Only you would argue your personal life into something like this."

  "It's more than my personal life. And you know it."

  He came back to her. "Yes, it is. That's why no one is going to marry you two right now."

  She paced away from him, going alongside the Redbird. "Who flew this helicopter? We can argue all day about new steps in human-machine evolution, but we can't even say what brought us out here."

  He came around in front of her, halting her progress. "What do you think they want? I mean ultimately."

  "Do you mean Sunrise Alley? Or Charon?"

  "Either. Both. Maybe they're the same now."

  "I wish I knew." She leaned against the Redbird. "My guess? Charon wants power. The EIs want the self-determination. Except they already have it." She thought back to Sunrise Alley. "Bart was a cipher. One moment he's a fascinating host, strange but hospitable; the next moment his android is shackling me to a mech-table as a precursor to murder. I'm surprised Turner and I got out of there."

  "Maybe they let you go."

  "I've wondered." She thought about it. "Maybe Bart wanted a line into the Pentagon. He probably guessed you would be our last resort when it didn't work out with them. He could have rigged something while they repaired Turner."

  "How would Turner get them into the Pentagon? We've had him in a separate facility." Thomas started to pace again. "No meshes connect that building to anywhere else. You can't even get wireless in there without authorization. We know how to secure a building."

  "So does Bart. He used to secure a country."

  Thomas stopped and regarded her. "The Baltimore Arms Resources Theatre failed."

  "Yeah, well, tell Bart."

  "Why strand us here?"

  "In Iowa, someone met us." Sam half expected Fourteen to show up. "Can you scan the area with your glove?"

  "Already done. Nothing but rabbits and bees."

  "Then we should go find someone."

  "I don't like leaving the Redbird."

  "People keep trying to kill me," she said dourly. "I'd like to be gone before any of them show up."

  "They could be anywhere around here."

  He had a point. "It scares me."

  "You and me both." Thomas came back over to her. "From your report, it sounds like Charon is building slaves and stealing minds. Damn frightening."

  "He wants Sunrise A
lley, too."

  "So he lets Turner go and hopes the Alley offers him sanctuary. Okay. It works. Then suddenly the EIs want to kill you." Thomas looked ready to take on an army. "Why? If he really is obsessed with you, he wouldn't want you dead."

  "I never said he was obsessed." It unsettled her that he used the same word as Turner.

  "You said he told Turner you were 'as brittle as jagged glass, with sharp edges to hide the vulnerability.' Normal people don't talk about strangers that way."

  "He had Linden's memories." It hurt to think about.

  "Did Linden see you that way?"

  "Actually, no, I don't think so."

  "But Charon does. And he had sex with you, Sam."

  She froze, mortified. "What?"

  "He's part of Turner."

  Sam held up her hands. "It isn't the same."

  "Why not?" Thomas demanded. "Maybe he picked Turner because he had spied on you enough to figure out what sort of man you found appealing. For all you know, he let Turner escape in Oregon, too."

  Sam folded her arms and rubbed them, trying to ward off the chill she felt. "That's absurd."

  "You think so?" He spoke as if he were outlining a battle plan. "Charon infiltrates Sunrise Alley. He gets control. Then they shackle you to a table, threaten your life, torment you by changing their minds, tie you to a bed, refuse to let Turner untie you, then let him untie you, then take you on some bizarre, tortuous trek through their facility. If that isn't crazy, I don't know what is. This Charon sounds like a sadist."

  "Thomas, stop." He would go nuts if she told him Turner had a copy of Charon in his matrix. But Thomas and his people needed to know. And if Charon was obsessed with her, she might not be safe with Turner.

  He was watching her closely. "If you hold back from us, it could hurt a lot more people than Turner."

  Sam spoke carefully. "All right. Let's suppose Charon fixated on me for some reason. If that were true, why would he let me leave Sunrise Alley?"

  "Maybe Charon didn't infiltrate the Alley. Maybe Bart sent you to us for your own safety."

  She thought of the cruelty in Bart's final words to her. "I doubt it. He wanted to hurt us."

  "You might be reading human responses where they don't exist." Thomas motioned with his hand, its mesh glove glittering black in the sunlight. "This feels no emotion. Why should Sunrise Alley have hostile intent toward us? Bart might be carrying out his purpose, to protect this country. It sure as hell isn't in our best interests to have Charon playing God with people like you and Turner."