Chains of Freedom

by Selina Rosen

  "So, RJ, let's see what you look like." She put the disk in with trembling fingers, then sagged back in her chair and closed her eyes against what she saw.

  She might as well have been looking in a mirror.

  "Senator Jessica Kirk, Elite . . ." before the computer could say more, she ripped the disk from the terminal and crushed it in her fist.

  Several hours later, Jessica woke with a start. The dream she'd been having hadn't been a pleasant one. Sleeping alone had never bothered her before. Perhaps because it had never seemed so permanent. She got out of bed and put on her robe. She took a cigarette off the bedside table, lit it, and took a long drag. Then she started pacing.

  The thought of RJ curled around her lover, safe and snug, ate at Jessica's soul. It wasn't fair. Jessica felt lost and miserably alone.

  "OK, Stewart. You've got some explaining to do." She put out her half-smoked cigarette, and got dressed.

  Poley ran into Stewart's lab. He shut the door heavily.

  "Oh, whatever is it now, Poley?" Stewart asked without looking up from the microscope.

  "It's the random unit, sir," an edge of excitement to his synthetic voice.

  Dr. Stewart abandoned his microscope and started pacing in anticipation. "So, what's she done now?" Stewart asked happily.

  "She's assassinated Governor Bristol . . ."

  Stewart started laughing, and didn't stop until Poley had given him a full report on all the damage. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and a worried look replaced the laughter.

  "Damn," he said in a put out tone.

  "Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Poley asked.

  "She used Pronuses to poison the tip of those spears." Stewart was thoughtful.

  "So," Poley didn't understand the problem.

  "So, tin head, how long can it take them to realize what RJ is, if they haven't already? After that, how long before they realize that I'm the only one with the brains to have created her?"

  "Dr. Preston . . ." Poley started.

  "Oh, don't make me laugh." The professor looked far from laughing. "Preston is a smug fool."

  "His endeavors in both robotics and genetics equal yours." Poley was trying to ease the professor's mind, but Stewart didn't take it that way.

  "Ha! Preston! Equal to me! Never! Has Preston created anything to equal RJ? NO! Oh, no he hasn't. And do you know why, Tim Pants?"

  "Because he wasn't concerned with perpetuating his own genes," Poley answered excitedly. He thought he'd done well, so he didn't understand the doctor's wrath.

  "Because, you great metal fool, I have more brains in my little finger than that idiot Preston has in his whole body!" Stewart screamed.

  "Oh," Poley said. "That was my next guess."

  "Preston could never duplicate one of my creations. Only a complete and utter fool would mistake RJ for one of Preston's abortions," Stewart hollered like a lunatic. "Why, Preston has trouble making a sandwich!"

  "Of course, sir," Poley said, making it obvious by his tone of voice that it was a humbling experience to be allowed to work in the company of an intellect as vast as Dr. Stewart's. "I was simply suggesting that the Reliance may mistake RJ for one of Preston's creations."

  "Are you trying to patronize me, Poley?" Stewart asked suspiciously. "Anyone with a single ounce of sense is going to know that only I have the necessary knowledge and intellect to have created RJ. Anyone with even a spark of intelligence would know that. Preston doesn't have the good sense to dump piss out of his shoe without being told. Preston, make RJ? Ha! I have studied amoebas with more intelligence." He sat down on his stool, folded his arms across his chest, and proceeded to pout. "Only a complete and total idiot would mistake one of my projects for one of Preston's."

  "Of course, sir. But, as you have often told me," he cleared his synthetic throat. "The heads of the Reliance are a bunch of butt-brained buffoons who wouldn't know shit from computer chips without a diagram."

  Stewart began to laugh again. He jumped off his stool, and hugged his metal friend. "Oh, quite right, Poley. Only a complete idiot would mistake my work for Preston's. But that defines the Reliance perfectly! They will probably assume that RJ is Preston's work, and go bother him." He sat back down at his microscope. "I am quite safe."

  Not ten minutes later someone walked into the room. "Tell them to go away, Poley. I don't have time for people today."

  Poley was silent.

  "Go away," Stewart said irritably. He didn't bother to look up. "Next time you ignore an order, Poley . . . I'm going to fire you."

  "Dr. Stewart?" Stewart's head jerked up quickly. He hit his head on a light fixture, and fell off his stool, holding his chest.

  Jessica jerked the old man up off the floor and shook him roughly. "Oh, come on, old man. Who do you think you're kidding?"

  "He's an old man. He has a spastic heart." Poley took Stewart from Jessica's rough grasp and helped him back onto his stool.

  A quick look told Stewart that this was not the random unit. This had to be one of the others. The random unit had a defect, and she would never have treated him disrespectfully.

  "What right do you have to bother me when I'm working?" Stewart asked hotly.

  "I am Senator of Zone 2-A." Jessica informed him haughtily.

  "And I suppose you think that gives you a right to be rude," Stewart said curtly. Then he started to laugh. "Did you hear that, Poley? A Senator."

  "Do you find that amusing, old man? I could have you arrested for what you've done."

  "And just what have I done, dear?" Stewart asked innocently.

  "I think you know, old man," Jessica spat. "One of your creations is running amok. Destroying anything that gets in her way . . ."

  "And one of my creations is a Senator. I'm so proud."

  "Listen to me, you crazy old fool . . ."

  "Is that any way to talk to your father?" Stewart asked, aghast.

  "If you don't cooperate with me . . ."

  That sounded like the start of a threat. Stewart didn't like threats. "You'll do what? Tell them that I made RJ? That I also made you? Do you really want all your hoity-toity friends to know what you are?" Obviously, from the expression on her face, she did not. "So, let us dispense with the threats, shall we, J-6?"

  "Jessica," she grated out. "My name is Jessica Kirk."

  "So, without any unpleasantness. What has brought you back to the fold?"

  Jessica cringed. She had never in her wildest dreams ever thought that she would have to deal with Stewart at any level. "How many?" she asked at length.

  "How many what?" Stewart asked cagily.

  "How many like myself did you make?"

  "Oh, that." He played with something on his work bench. "Twelve."

  "Twelve!" Jessica held a hand to her head.

  "If it makes you feel any better, there are only two of you left."

  "How can you be so sure?" Jessica asked.

  "I placed a transmitter at the base of each of your skulls that emits only as long as the unit is viable. Of course, RJ's is dysfunctional." He scratched his head as if wondering how he could have made such an error.

  "What do you mean?" Jessica asked.

  "Well, till most recently, I thought you were the only one left. But when RJ started her little reign of terror . . ." He shrugged extravagantly. "I knew that had to be one of my girls. Of course, I already knew where you were, and what you were doing, so it couldn't be you. I suppose RJ's unit must have broken."

  He gave Poley—who had a very confused look on his face—a warning look. "It must have been one that you assembled."

  "Are we . . . are we all the same?"

  "Of course," Stewart answered.

  Poley looked about ready to speak, and Stewart fingered the shut off box in his pocket. Poley stood silently.

  "So, for all practical purposes, I am fighting myself." She seemed to ponder this.

  "It should make for an interesting addition to my experiment," Stewart said, rubbing his chin. "Imagine, if
you will, two great minds attached to two superior bodies. Together, you might well conquer the Reliance. Why fight her, J-6? Why not join her instead?"

  "Join her against the Reliance! Have you gone mad? You talk treason, old man!" Jessica was enraged at the mere suggestion that she would join RJ.

  "Well, it's a sure bet that she won't join you." Stewart answered her rage with careful calm. "Pitted against each other, neither can win."

  "I shall win. I will track her down and utterly destroy her." Jessica's eyes burned with all the hate and rage she possessed.

  Stewart clicked his tongue. "My, my. Why such malice?"

  "Because she chose to kill and mutilate my lover as a sign to the Reliance," Jessica spat out.

  Stewart looked shocked, then pleased. "Did you hear that, Poley? J-6 had a lover. And you argued that they could never lead normal lives." Stewart laughed heartily.

  Jessica had enough. He was laughing at her. He was laughing at her heartache. She grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip, and he stopped laughing.

  "J-6, you're hurting my arm," Stewart said, angrily. "Let me go at once!"

  Jessica surprised herself; she let him go. "My name is Jessica . . . Senator Jessica Kirk!"

  "Stalemate, Senator. Tell them that I made RJ, and you also have to tell them that I made you. Tell them what RJ is, and if they catch her, don't you think they are going to notice the uncanny resemblance? Don't you think they are going to start to ask questions about you? A few simple tests, and any fool would know . . ."

  "I don't need you alive." Jessica informed him in her most menacing tone.

  Stewart just smiled. "You gain nothing by killing me."

  "Satisfaction." Jessica hissed.

  Stewart laughed. "Satisfaction? In killing me? Why? What sort of challenge would I be? I'm an old man whose days are numbered. The brain is still strong, but the body is tired. You could kill me with the poke of a single finger. I am old and tired of fighting death. So, if it would give you satisfaction to take what little life is left to me . . ." He stopped speaking and opened his arms as if inviting her blow.

  Jessica gave him a black look, then turned and stomped off towards the door. She turned just as her hand touched the knob."This isn't the end of it, old man. Not by a long shot."

  "I didn't think it would be." Stewart watched her as she made her exit.

  Stewart reached in his pocket and hit the activation button as he addressed Poley. "That girl is a little high-strung."

  "Why did you lie to her?" Poley asked in confusion.

  "Shush, tin fool." Stewart hissed. He waited till he was sure she was out of hearing. "Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed them to keep their emotions."

  "Why did you lie to her?" Poley persisted.

  "She was supposed to be dead." Stewart was thoughtful. Her calling unit must have failed. "So, I have two left. A rebel and a Senator." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Pitted against each other, there is a good chance they may both wind up dead. I will have to intervene, or the entire experiment will be jeopardized. If Jessica goes after RJ in grief-stricken vengeance . . . well, neither can win." Stewart got up and started to pace his laboratory. "I must decide which one has the best chance of survival, and then work to help that one."

  "I have always been partial to RJ, myself," Poley said.

  "You know, my metal-bodied friend, I sometimes wonder if I didn't make you too human!" He sat down and put a finger to his mouth."So, J-6 had a lover." He moved his finger from his mouth. "And RJ killed him to make a political statement. Allowing them irrational thought; that was my first mistake. I could have altered their minds, but at the time it just seemed like too much bother. Now, I'm beginning to think it would have been well worth the effort. RJ running around in her suicidal revolution. J-6 going after RJ. It's all madness. Madness, I tell you. I don't have the strength, the determination, or the bloody time to run up another batch. I'm an old man, Poley. An old and very tired man. One of them must live. Unfortunately, that means—I hate to say it—that the other must die. Poley, I want you to find out everything you can about both RJ and J-6. I want to know which has the greater chance of survival."

  Stewart knew his decision must be based on facts. He had never been political, and now was not the time to start.

  Jessica looked over graphs and charts on her computer screen. General Right stood attentively at her shoulder, although she clicked through them too fast for him to actually see anything.

  "There is no apparent method to her madness." He grabbed her hand, gently stalling her rapid progress on a map of the zone. He pointed to the red marks on the map to further explain his meaning. "She steals a load of supplies . . . tents, K-rations, clothing, etc. . . . here. Three weeks later, she steals a shipment of projectile weapons here—clear across the zone. A week later she steals a load of medical supplies just an hour's drive away. A month later, they're back across the country, stealing a load of our new laser sidearms. Two weeks later, and halfway across the country, they steal yet another load of supplies. Two days after that, they're two hundred miles away, stealing a load of plasma blasters. Then yesterday they steal—are you ready for this?—boots! That makes no sense at all. Obviously, these raids are made at random, and without any prior study of the contents. Yet they have not stumbled upon a single one of the convoys harboring a GSH. They must just have the most incredible luck."

  "It has very little to do with luck," Jessica said shortly. She had done everything in her power to make RJ's life difficult. She'd doubled the number of GSHs accompanying the convoys. She'd set up random roadblocks. She'd scrambled the shipments and changed shipping routes.

  Nothing.

  RJ was outwitting her. She didn't know how, but it was obvious that RJ had an edge. Jessica was not as blind to the obvious as Right seemed to be.

  "There is most definitely a method to her 'madness' as you call it. An army doesn't just need weapons. It needs food, clothing and shelter. And yes, even boots. She's collecting the provisions for an army." She looked carefully at the map. "These raids are anything but random. How can we prepare any real defense if we don't know when or where she will strike next? RJ is preparing her army to march, and so far our attempts to stop her have been ludicrous."

  "There is no reason to believe that she is doing anymore than stealing the supplies. There is no sign of any sort of a rebellion, much less one on that scale. In fact except for RJ, there is no sign of an organized rabble anywhere."

  "What about Alsterase?"

  "What about it? The entire population of Alsterase couldn't use one sixteenth of the pilfered supplies. Besides, there is nothing to suggest that there has been any kind of uprising in Alsterase," Right explained.

  Jessica was silent for a moment. Then she spoke her thoughts aloud."RJ's got an army. Somewhere. At least, she knows where to get one. I've got to believe that, or nothing she has done makes any sense." She contemplated the ceiling for a moment. "And I believe that she never does anything that doesn't make perfect sense. What I don't understand is how she's missing the GSHs."

  "Well, she must just have the most incredible luck," Right suggested a second time.

  "There is no such thing as luck in matters of war," Jessica snapped back. "Somehow she knows."

  "Impossible. She would have to have a box." Right assured her.

  Jessica's head snapped up. Her eyes had a carnivorous shine to them. "What did you say?" Her quiet voice made Right's skin crawl.

  "I said she would have to have a box." Right's voice was a little more choked than he would have liked, but at least he had been able to fight the impulse to cringe.

  "Of course!" Jessica slammed her fist into her palm. "That's it! That's the answer. She's been sitting with a box, carefully picking and choosing which cargoes she wants and which ones are safe."

  Right looked at her and shook his head sadly. The whole thing had finally gotten to her. Her cable had snapped. "She couldn't have a box. All of the boxes are accounted for," he sai
d carefully.

  "Not Jack's." She got up and started pacing, picturing the whole event as it must have happened. "She got it from Jack." No longer a hunch, she now knew her statement was true.

  "But they found Jack's box with him," Right reminded her.

  "No! They found a box with him." Jessica sat down on the edge of her desk and looked at Right. "You can bet that no one checked to make sure that it was his box—a real box. RJ threw a plasma bomb into the armor-plated limo and closed the door. Everything inside would have been covered with a thick, bloody, pulpy coat of what had once been men."