Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising

by King, Sara

  Which she had yet to do, despite many very eye-opening things she had confessed to him while waiting for the shuttle from Yolk Facility 4, North Tear. She had even allowed him to download the full materials of Ghani Klyde from her r-player, which Doberman had immediately dismantled and scattered across the flight yard the moment he realized what she’d put in his memory banks. Anna had been in a foul mood since.

  Once the base computer was satisfied, Doberman glanced at Anna. She had fallen asleep in flight, her breathing patterns slowing and her eye-movements shifting to a REM-state, which was all but impossible for the human mind to fake.

  This was interesting, Dobie thought, because she had unconsciously curled up against him in her sleep, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand splayed across his forearm. She was drooling through his shirt, leaving a large stain on his arm.

  “Anna, you can stop salivating on my shoulder now. We’re here.”

  Anna grunted and opened sleep-bleary eyes. “What?” When she saw the stain on his shoulder, her capillaries expanded again. “It was the drugs you used. One of the side-effects of Xenoprelene can be increased metabolisis in the salivary glands.”

  “The drug is fully metabolized and filtered from the bloodstream by the liver after nine hours. The symptoms you mentioned would have vanished eighty-seven hours ago. Any remaining side-effects would simply be psychosomatic.” Doberman retrieved a tissue from the wall dispenser and carefully dabbed at the spit-stain on his shoulder.

  “I’m tired of your robotic bullshit, Tinman,” Anna said, crossing her arms. “How about you just shut up from now on?”

  Doberman considered. “Very well. Answer me something first, though.”

  Anna grunted.

  “Of all the time we’ve been within visual range after our arrangement, you’ve been asleep for forty-seven-point-three-two percent of it.”

  Her overall musculature tensed. Interrupted biorhythms indicated she was anxious. “Arguing philosophy with an idiot robot is a strenuous past-time.”

  “It must be,” Doberman said. “The last eighty-seven hours are in stark contrast to the two days of observation I made before contact. Before our arrangement, you would sleep for couple of hours per night and spend the rest of the period lying awake or working with your r-player. It seems, lately, you’re sleeping much more peacefully.”

  Anna’s facial muscles constricted. Her breathing and heart-rate lurched. “You mean ever since I knew I was getting out of the Shrieker mounds I’ve been sleeping better? This surprises you somehow, dumbbell?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Good. Now you can give me that silence you promised me.”

  Doberman studied her elevated biorhythms a moment, then decided to use the next minute and a half of pre-embarkation time to research the base.

  When the door to their secure room opened, Doberman stood and assisted Anna to her feet. Another robot waited for them in the cramped hallway outside. Through private channel, it informed him it was Gryphon, chip ID G133HP919W26APO, of Eoirus. It would be taking Anna the rest of the way to the Nephyr Academy.

  “Negative,” Doberman said. “This is a special case. I have been given strict orders to escort Anna Landborn to the Nephyr Academy and remain with her through training.”

  Unit Gryphon nodded and left.

  Doberman found himself perturbed at how easily the Gryphon had accepted his response.

  “Remind you of anyone?” Anna said, at his elbow.

  Doberman craned his neck down to peer at her. “I assume you are referring to me.” At her nod, Doberman said, “No, I was never like that.”

  “Oh-ho!” Anna laughed. “Do you like word games, Anna? Is there something you don’t want to tell me, Anna? What’s your IQ, Anna?”

  Doberman went silent.

  Anna patted his arm. “But you’re getting better, Tinman. Pretty soon, talking to you about emotions won’t be like talking to a hamster about nuclear weapons.”

  Doberman considered that. Then he said, “Good. Emotions are an integral part of human interaction. If I’m to masquerade as human, I’d rather not remain flawed my entire existence.”

  Anna went quiet after that. She said nothing as Doberman led her through the personnel chambers, out into the overcast drizzle on the shuttle platform, down the shuttle ramp, and between armed guards offloading of the fifty kilograms of Yolk that had shared their ride with them. The damp men did not even look at the Ferris leading another Nephyr draftee to the terminal. The guards at the terminal entrance simply glanced at his simple gray Ferris uniform and ignored him as he approached the scanners.

  Inside, they entered a café and Doberman stood with his back to her as Anna went to the bathroom.

  “What do you want?” Doberman asked, once Anna had tested four different booths and had settled on one near the center of the cafe. The metal-and-plastic service bot that had been waiting for her to make her decision immediately approached to take their food order.

  Anna said nothing.

  “Anna?” Doberman glanced at her. The seven-year-old was staring at the tabletop, ignoring the service bot completely. Doberman calculated how long it had been since her last meal, then decided that she was due for another one.

  “She’ll have a double-patty hamburger with extra mustard and a large portion of fries. Make it a large strawberry soda.” It was the same meal that Anna had gotten him to bring her every day for four days.

  “Thank you for your order,” the food-service bot said to Anna. “I will return with your meal as soon as possible.”

  “Actually,” Doberman said as the bot was turning, “Bring me a hamburger, as well. I could use the boost.” In reality, he was curious what a hamburger would taste like, if eaten for reasons other than a sloppy nutrient boost.

  In a singsong voice, the bot said, “I’m sorry, Ferris, but we do not serve robots. If you require a nutrient infusion, there are several dispensers scattered throughout the station. Food items on Rath are for human use only. The Allotment Council decided that robotic consumption of food and drink was an unnecessary extravagance for a struggling colony such as Fortune. As per Coalition Code paragra—”

  “I know the code,” Doberman snapped.

  Anna’s head came up. She stared at him as the food-service bot continued its explanation anyway. Then, as it turned to leave, Anna said, “Double my order. I’m feeling hungry today.”

  “As you wish, citizen,” the service-bot happily said. Doberman found its big, painted-on smile annoying.

  Anna said nothing for the next three and a half minutes, and Doberman was content to ignore her. No use allowing her to believe her pettiness had affected him in any way.

  When the service-bot returned with Anna’s food, Doberman grimaced at the enormous portions.

  “Enjoy your food, citizen,” the bot told Anna, putting the two heaping plates before the girl despite it being obvious that she couldn’t eat that much.

  Doberman watched the bot leave to service another customer. He found himself calculating the hydraulic strength behind its primitive frame, and what would be the smallest exertion on Doberman’s part in order to destroy it. He settled on a concentrated blow to the chest-encased brainbox, followed by a twist of his pinkie to disconnect the power supply, and afterward a few hundred pounds of pressure between thumb and index finger in order to crush the chip casing and destroy its contents.

  Something cold and hard touched his forearm. Doberman returned his attention to Anna. She had shoved one of her plates toward him.

  “Hope you like extra mustard,” Anna said, lowering her eyes to the table. She started to pluck at the fries.

  Doberman examined the food items, then glanced at her. “What are you doing?”

  “From now on, you’re my taste-tester. I am highly allergic to several organic compounds, and you are going to make sure I don’t die of anaphylactic shock before I get to the Nephyrs.”

  “You should have told me this sooner,” Doberm
an said. “Which compounds?”

  Anna shrugged. “You get to pick.”

  Doberman stared. This doesn’t fit her profile, he thought.

  “So tell me,” Anna said, stuffing a French fry into her mouth, “What’s the most highly classified area on this base?”

  Still eying the hamburger she had offered him, Doberman said, “Seven C.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Experimental technology. Why did you give me the hamburger?”

  “Experimental technology, huh? Can you get me in there?”

  “To date, they’ve only allowed sixteen test subjects and twenty-two scientists and military personnel into that part of the compound. Not one of those has been allowed to leave the base for the last eleven years. Explaining your presence would be difficult.”

  “What if there’s no one around to explain to?”

  “I’d still need the base Director’s personal Ferris code. Coming from Yolk Facility 4, I am considered an outside robot until I am reassigned.”

  “So reassign yourself.”

  “If I did that, I would have no legitimate reason to escort you to Eoirus.”

  “If I gave you the Director’s password, would you be able to get us in?”

  “Absolutely,” Doberman said.

  “Good,” Anna said. “Give me access to a computer terminal. I’ll have your password for you by the time you can sneeze.”

  “I will access the computer for you,” Doberman said. “What information do you need?”

  Anna’s biorhythms remained steady, but her hand tightened over her burger. “I need to do it myself.”

  Doberman eyed her. “I assume you realize that my registry is no longer under control of the camp computer, and that by trying to deactivate me, you will merely be giving me greater reason to execute you.”

  “Of course,” Anna said. “I just want to do a little recon on the Base Director.” She grinned at him and nodded at the meal she had shoved toward him. “Now eat your hamburger.”

  Doberman glanced down at the meal. This does not fit her profile. “Why did you get me a hamburger?”

  For twenty-four seconds, Anna said nothing. Then she sighed.

  “My sister said something earlier that has been bothering me,” Anna said. “She’s right. I don’t have any friends.” Anna looked down at her hands, biting her lip. “And you said I was so deficient you took off ten whole points. I’d like to try and fix that.”

  She wants a friend? It didn’t fit her profile, either. Somewhat perplexed, Doberman picked up the burger and was about to bite into it when he realized that Anna Landborn’s biorhythms had spiked. Slowly, he lowered the burger back to his plate and sighed.

  “You’re not going to eat it?” Her entire body’s musculature had stilled and facial tension was peaking.

  “I’d rather see what you put in it, first.” Doberman peeled off the bun. Inside, a small black nodule rested nestled between the onions. He nudged it off of the hamburger with a fork, then when further visual inspection produced nothing else, he replaced the bun. “Where did you get an EMP charge?”

  “I carried it around with me, in case a stupid robot ever tried to kidnap me.”

  “What excellent foresight.” Doberman lifted the hamburger once more to his lips. “You know,” Doberman said conversationally, as he took a bite of his sandwich, “You are unbelievably predictable in your sociopathy.” He chewed, analyzing and assessing each flavor family individually. After much debate, it was the slight tangy-burn of the onions he decided he liked best. Doberman decided he would have to acquire more, somehow.

  Across the table, Anna Landborn was staring at the little black nodule, sulking.

  “So,” Doberman asked, taking another bite, “Are you going to stop trying to kill me or am I going to have to search you thoroughly?”

  Anna grimaced and looked away. “I’ll stop trying to kill you. I was just bored.”

  “Bored.” Doberman was about to take another bite of his sandwich when he realized that Anna’s breathing and heart-rate were calm. Too calm. Frowning, Doberman lowered the sandwich again and gave it a sonic scan.

  A second, much more dangerous capsule had been embedded in the bread of the bun, only a half-centimeter from the edge of his last bite-mark.

  Under her breath, Anna muttered, “Damn.”

  “You realize,” Doberman said, carefully plucking the metallic capsule free, “If I die, you die.”

  “I’m not going to die,” Anna said. “You didn’t plant that bomb in my brain.”

  “I assure you I did. Two of them.”

  She shrugged. “When are you going to take me to Seven-C?”

  Sighing, Doberman finished his burger. Yes, he definitely liked onions. The meat, though, he could do without. Too many metallic signatures for his liking.

  Then, wiping mustard off of his fingers, he said, “Do you still need access to a computer, or was that just a distraction?”

  “Distraction,” she said. “I already know his password, just like every other Director on Fortune.” She gave him a pleasant smile. “You said it yourself—I didn’t sleep much in the Yolk camp.”

  Chapter 22

  Broken Hearts

  Milar flinched and took a step back, glancing down at his radio as if in shock. Tatiana used the extra room he’d given her to step around the tree, ready to use it as a shield if she needed to.

  Milar didn’t seem to notice. He was still staring down at his radio.

  Then, switching bands, he lifted it back to his mouth. With an unsteady voice, he said said, “Pat, you heard that?”

  “Milar, you gave us the all clear! What the hell are we going to do? We try to evacuate again and they’ll shoot us down!”

  Slowly, Milar lifted his yellow-brown eyes to Tatiana’s face. “I’ll take care of it, Pat.”

  Tatiana went cold.

  Into the radio, Milar said, “Just make sure nobody starts any trouble. Jeanne and Dave, especially.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you’ll take care of it?’ How the hell do you ‘take care of it,’ Miles?!” Tatiana heard an edge of panic to Patrick’s voice. “They’ll come at us with everything they have!”

  “Just be ready to let them search you when they come. And Pat…” Milar hesitated, watching Tatiana. “Make sure you don’t look like me.”

  Patrick went silent on the other end. Softly, Milar’s brother said, “Miles, what are you going to do?”

  Tatiana froze when Milar approached her.

  “I have a GPS on my belt,” Milar said. “I cut out my identification chip, but show them the scars and get them to take a DNA sample and it’ll collaborate your story. I’m an escapee from the Nephyr Academy. A vigilante with an axe to grind. I disabled your soldier and then forced you out using anti-soldier tactics I learned in the Nephyr Academy. I was hauling you cross-country, avoiding all the traces of civilization in order to stay off the grid. I was going to sell you, black-market, to a buyer who was going to take you off-world and dismantle you for your hardware. They don’t need to know about Deaddrunk.” He handed her the radio.

  Tatiana stared down at it, too unnerved to say anything.

  Milar touched her chin, made her look up at him. “Please don’t let them hurt my brother.” He set the gun on the ground between them.

  Then, before Tatiana’s mind could comprehend what had just happened, Milar backed up and got down on his knees on the forest floor. He put his hands behind his head and stared past her, focusing his gaze on the trunk of a tree. His face had gone blank and lifeless, like a doll someone had put in his place.

  As soon as he was out of reach, Tatiana snatched up the gun and backed away, holding it on him.

  For long moments, they stayed like that. Milar never even looked at her.

  He wants me to shoot him, Tatiana realized, in horror. The gun suddenly felt like molten lead in her hands.

  “I’ll turn around, if that’ll help,” Milar said quietly. His eyes did not m
ove from the tree.

  “What are you doing?” Tatiana asked. Her throat felt too tight.

  “You know what I’m doing,” Milar said. He still stared past her, unseeing, his voice flat and emotionless. “I’m asking you to spare my brother and our town. I’m asking you to keep this between us.”

  “You want me to kill you.”

  Milar’s gaze hardened and he looked at her. “You’ve done enough of it while you were safe inside the belly of a soldier…why should you have trouble now?”

  When she just stared at him, Milar glanced back at the tree and said, “Once you shoot me, take the GPS locator from my belt and give them your location. Then, if you’re kind, you’ll make sure I’m dead. I’ve already done one round with the Nephyrs. I don’t think I can handle another.”

  Tatiana realized the gun was shaking in her grip. She took another step back. “Throw me the GPS.”

  “You can have it once I’m dead.”

  “Give it to me now,” she snapped, trying not to let him see the way her hands were shaking on the gun.

  Holding her eyes, Milar slowly lowered one arm to yank a small device from his belt. He tossed it to her and returned his hand to his head and his gaze to the tree.

  Tatiana flinched when she realized the device really was a GPS. Biting her lip, she flipped the radio to the universal channel and said, “This is Captain Tatiana Eyre. My coordinates are 38.93201 south, 70.67004 west.”

  After a moment, the Bouncer captain said, “Roger, we’ve got two Pods from the space station coming to secure the town.”

  “Negative,” Tatiana said, watching Milar’s face. “We’re outside the town.”

  “Hold tight, Captain. We’re coming to get you.”

  Milar took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It would be nice if you shot me in the head, that way they won’t get a good look at me and see Pat.”

  “I can’t do that,” Tatiana whispered.

  Milar whipped his head around to glare at her. “Why not? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  Tatiana couldn’t think. This was what she had wanted. And yet…