by Isaac Hooke
When he finally reached the agreed-upon storage unit, the entry hatch had proven locked. He just hoped Adara had some way of opening it.
That was when he saw her.
She had stepped from the shadows and into the cone of light cast by an overhead HLED connected to the perimeter wall. She had shaven her head completely, as she had promised she would do. She wore the tight-fitting MARPAT digital camos of a Marine.
That was when it hit him.
She wasn’t wearing a jumpsuit.
He started toward her.
She pulled herself onto a conduit that ran along the inside of the perimeter wall, and began to climb.
Rade hurried to her and, checking that the volume of his external speakers was way down, he said in a hushed voice: “Adara. Adara! What the hell are you doing? Where’s your jumpsuit?”
She continued to climb.
“Damn it.” He glanced along the walkway, looking for signs of sentry robots. It seemed clear. There was no one to stop her. “Shit.”
He started up after her. He didn’t want to fire his jetpack—too noisy. It would draw every robot sentry within a five hundred meter radius.
In theory, he should have been able to climb faster than her because he had the extra strength of the jumpsuit, but she vanished over the upper rim before he was even halfway.
He reached the top and pulled himself onto the walkway. Keeping crouched, he crossed to the outer boundary and spotted her—she was already waiting on the street below.
Rade was about to begin climbing down after her when a voice made him freeze.
“You there! Halt!”
Metal feet clanged along the walkway.
Rade raised his hands.
A Centurion emerged from the shadows, rifle in hand.
“Extend your left forearm immediately!” the robot said.
Rade obeyed.
It scanned his embedded ID, then said: “I’m sorry, Mr. Galaal, you don’t have authorization—”
Rade glanced over the edge. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Stop who?”
He could no longer see her. She must have hidden herself in the shadows.
“A Marine just climbed over your well-guarded perimeter,” Rade said.
“I will alert a retrieval team,” the robot said. “Please return to your housing unit.”
Then he heard her voice. “Rade, help me!” Because of the echo effect, he couldn’t quite make out where it had come from. But she sounded maybe a block away, max.
The aliens have her.
“There isn’t time for a retrieval team.” Rade took a step toward the edge.
The robot grabbed him by the jumpsuit and attempted to shove his arm behind his back to restrain him.
But Rade was expecting that. He yielded, allowing his body to momentarily give before his opponent; then he combined the strength of his exoskeleton with the robot’s own momentum to pull the machine in behind him. He reversed his grip, chopped his hand down to sever its jetpack fuel line, and then shoved: the robot toppled backward over the wall and into the base.
Rade leaped down to the street below, landing just beyond the coils of electrified razor wire that surrounded the outer perimeter of the base. The suit absorbed the impact; performing jumps from such heights a couple of times was fine, but any more than that and one risked permanent damage to the electromechanics.
Behind him, an alarm sounded.
“I’m going to get in so much shit for this.”
“Rade!” came Adara’s voice.
He saw a shadow duck behind an alleyway up ahead.
Rade drew his blaster and raced after her, half-expecting the Centurion to scale the wall and give chase behind him. But when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that while it had returned to the walkway, the robot remained standing there, watching. Waiting for the retrieval team, probably.
Rade sprinted into the alleyway where the shadow had gone. A silhouette was waiting at the far end, and as soon as he entered, it dodged into the next street.
He paused. There had been only one silhouette. She seemed to be alone.
The aliens don’t have her. What the hell kind of game is she playing?
He considered turning back, but it was too late for that now. She had drawn him out, and he was already going to get hell.
Might as well finish this.
Leery that she was leading him into an ambush, he warily pursued her through four alleys and side streets. Each time she waited just out of reach, only to dash around the next bend when he caught sight of her.
Finally, after she vanished into a fifth alleyway like that, he’d had enough.
“I’m done playing your game,” he said via the external speakers on his helmet. By that point, he was positive it was a trap of some kind. “Show yourself and tell me what you want. Or I’m leaving.”
She didn’t comply.
“Fine.” He turned to go.
Something heavy struck him from above and he plowed hard into the ground.
The blaster was torn from his grasp with incredible force.
The weight left his back.
He blinked a few times, clearing the stars that dotted his vision, and then he scrambled to his feet.
A figure stood before him in the darkness of the alley.
He activated his helmet lamp to illuminate the attacker.
It was Adara, still dressed only in her MARPATs. She held the purloined blaster in her hands. It was pointed directly at his head.
“Hello, Rade,” she said warmly.
That was when he realized her eyes were dead.
twenty-two
Rade slowly raised his hands in surrender. The blaster she held was designed for a glove grip, but she could fire it just as easily with those two bare hands wrapped around the stock.
“What do you want?” he said. He knew the external speakers were active because his helmet vibrated slightly when he spoke.
One side of her mouth curved up so that she wore a lopsided smirk. “Why, we want you. We already have your body. Now we want your mind.” She beckoned with the blaster. “Lead the way.”
He moved in the direction she indicated.
“Keep close to the buildings,” she said.
He obeyed.
“And turn off your helmet lamp,” she ordered.
He deactivated the lamp. “What do you mean, you have my body?”
She didn’t answer.
“Just what the hell are you?” he said.
“You’ll learn everything soon enough, dear,” she told him.
Shouting abruptly came from behind, though it was far in the distance.
“Pick up the pace,” she said.
He did so.
She made him penetrate deeper into the city, through those portions the UC had claimed, toward the fires that raged in the north. They were headed toward the latest front lines, he guessed. The UC presence should have begun to manifest as they grew near, even at that time of night, but she seemed to know where the patrols were because the streets and byways she chose were always empty. He suspected she was relying on robot scouts secreted in the rubble throughout the city, either that or micro-cameras that had so far evaded UC notice.
He remembered the flies he had seen buzzing around the bodies the day he had first arrived. Originally believed to be indigenous insects, someone had determined those were actually tiny solar-powered camera drones; they transmitted their data by means of the adhoc mesh network the drones formed throughout the city. The UC was familiar with the tech—it seemed stolen from their own designs—and the Marines had launched exterminator units, basically micro-robots that attached themselves to the camera drones and pulled them to the ground. Despite the countermeasures, Rade had no doubt the enemy still had many such micro scouts hidden throughout the city.
He thought of what awaited him, and shuddered. He wasn’t going to let them stab those needles into his head. He had to try to get away.
“I s
hould have abandoned you that first day,” Rade said. “Everything you told me... the stories about your deployments, the Marine you met while in Russia, it was all a lie, wasn’t it? Meant to lower my defenses.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said simply.
“You replaced her brain with nano-machines,” Rade said. “Those machines copy over the memories, the personality of the host, don’t they? If so, don’t you feel any sense of debt toward me? For the help I gave you?”
“Not really,” she said.
“And we made love,” Rade said. “Bonded. That’s got to mean something.”
“Again, not really,” she said. “There are many ways to satisfy the sensual delights of this body. Do you truly believe a random sexual encounter means anything in the greater scheme of things?”
Rade shut his eyes for a moment. Talking wasn’t going to get him out of this. He was going to have to watch for a chance to get that blaster away from her.
“I have to piss,” Rade said.
“Then go in your suit,” she replied.
“My suit’s clogged up,” Rade lied.
“Then let it run down your leg.”
He pretended to step on a nail, something that wasn’t really possible with his thick boots, of course. “Ah!” He leaned one hand against the building wall beside him.
“Stop that,” she said.
“I’m injured,” he said, feigning a gasp of pain.
“How?” She sounded skeptical.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I was just walking along, and then, bam... I think I stepped on a nail or something.” He lifted up the underside of his boot and pretended to examine it.
She maneuvered to the right slightly, perhaps to get a better look under the orange glow of the night sky, though she kept her distance.
“Can you help me take my boot off?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “Continue walking.”
“All right,” Rade said. “I’ll try.”
He acted like he could put very little weight on the foot, and moved with an exaggerated limp. He stopped after about ten steps, putting on a show of breathing hard. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It hurts too much.”
“Take off your boot then,” she said.
“I don’t think I can do it myself.” He panted loudly.
She sat down on a travertine beam protruding from some nearby rubble and kept the blaster pointed at him. “Go ahead. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Damn.
He didn’t really want to take the boot off, as he would likely injure his foot for real, then, given all the sharp fragments of debris around. He remembered what Adara’s feet had looked like when she had moved barefoot through the streets, after all. He wondered vaguely where she had acquired those boots, and that camouflage outfit. Probably found some clothing store with an intact 3D textile printer, and then programmed it to produce Marine gear.
“You know, I think it’s getting better.” He pretended to test his weight on the foot. “Yes. I think I can walk.”
She smiled derisively. “I thought so. Continue, then.”
She stood up, flicking the blaster to the right, indicating he should proceed.
A dark form leaped down from the top of the debris behind her, caught her in the back, and toppled her.
The attacker wrestled with her, and the two rolled around in the debris. Because of the orange glow of the sky, he knew the attacker was human. Tahoe?
He activated his helmet lamp and was stunned by who he saw.
Adara was fighting her mirror image. The two were identical, their facial features indistinguishable. Adding to the confusion, they wore the same clothes, and had the same fully shaven heads.
Adara tried to bring her blaster toward the opponent, but the attacker slammed her hand into a debris fragment and the weapon dropped away. The opponent tried to grab the blaster, but the pinned Adara rolled her body, flinging the intertwined pair several paces from the weapon. They continued to wrestle about like that, so that Rade soon lost track of who was who.
He crept toward them, and when he judged the fighting twins far enough away from the blaster, he dashed forward and picked it up. Then he retreated, keeping the weapon trained on the two of them.
He considered telling them to stop, but decided to hang back for the moment. He wanted to see what they were capable of. He would intervene if one of them was obviously about to kill the other.
In a sudden incredible show of strength, Adara 1 picked up Adara 2 by one leg and swung the twin into a nearby wall. Upon impact, cracks spidered across the travertine, and when Adara 2 fell, a large crater was left in the strike zone.
Rade decided it was time to intervene. Because that was definitely a mortal blow Adara 2 had received. She had struck that wall without a jumpsuit: if she wasn’t dead, then most of her bones were broken.
But before he could say anything, Adara 2 abruptly stood, apparently unharmed.
Stunned, Rade decided to keep his mouth shut for a moment longer.
Adara 2 plowed into Adara 1, slamming her into the rubble. A piece of rebar from the debris burst through her belly. Adara 2 grabbed the rebar, and it seemed like she intended to bend it and trap Adara 1, when the latter thrust forward, sliding off the rebar and wrapping her hand around Adara 2’s throat, lifting her from the ground.
As Adara 2 struggled, Adara 1 stepped toward a nearby wall and proceeded to slam her head repeatedly against it. A large blood stain reddened Adara 1’s camos in the region where the rebar had penetrated. It was difficult to tell in the dim orange light, but he thought the stain wasn’t growing: it was as if the wound had already clotted.
Adara 2 wrapped her arms around Adara 1’s grip, then kicked her in the torso, at last breaking free. Despite all the bashing her head had taken, only a trickle of blood descended from her temple, and she seemed otherwise unharmed.
Rade was beginning to wonder if these were Artificials. Or strength-enhanced clones of some sort. Or perhaps a combination of the two: clones with nano-machines that had spread to the muscles and bones of the body, replacing all of the bodily tissues.
Is that the alien end game? To turn us all into Artificials?
While he watched, Adara 1 managed to impale Adara 2 on the very same rebar that had stabbed her. And this time she succeeded in bending the bar afterward, pinning her opponent.
Adara 2 struggled to straighten the rebar, but she was obviously gravely injured—the bar had penetrated close to her heart region. It didn’t help that her hands were slippery with blood, and she seemed unable to find a grip.
Adara 1 lifted a large broken piece of travertine over her head. She obviously intended to bring the sharpened tip down upon the skull of her opponent.
“All right that’s enough,” Rade said.
Adara 1 paused, glanced askance slightly, but then raised the fragment higher, preparing to drop it.
“I said that’s enough!” Rade commanded. “I will shoot you.”
She hesitated once more, then at last tossed the fragment aside. “It doesn’t matter. She’s done anyway.”
“Move away from her,” Rade said.
When she had done so, Rade approached the injured twin.
The Adara pinned to the rubble was panting, as if in severe pain. She yet struggled with the rebar, but still couldn’t get a grip. She glanced up when Rade approached, and he involuntarily retreated when he saw the dead look to those eyes.
“Rade, it’s me,” the standing Adara said from beside him, drawing his attention away from the other.
Her eyes were dead, too.
“I came back for you,” the standing Adara continued. “I couldn’t let her take you to them.”
“How do I know it’s you?” he said, training the blaster on her.
She approached, palms up. “We talked about being on Tau Ceti together, remember? About how we fought against the invaders in separate companies.”
“Stay back,” Rade said.
She cont
inued to advance. “I’ve been thinking of you every day since we made love. I told you to say the name of your ex, but I really wanted you to say my name. I told you that it was only lust, that there was no meaning behind what we did, but I did so only because I wanted to protect you. I’ve been wanting to hold you in my arms ever since.”
“Lying...” the Adara on the ground said.
The standing Adara glanced over her shoulder, down the darkened street. “We don’t have much time. They’re coming. Put away the blaster and follow me, PO1. Put it away!”
“You never called me PO1 before,” Rade said.
She tilted her head slightly. “I know. I was hoping it would remind you of who you were.”
“All it did was remind me of who you aren’t,” Rade said.
“Rade—” the pinned Adara said from the ground.
Rade turned his head toward her. That was a mistake.
Before he could react, the standing Adara was on him. She squeezed her arms around the torso of his jumpsuit and pulled him to the debris. He tried to reorient his arm and point the blaster at her back, but she rolled to the side, crushing the arm.
She reached down, wrapped her hands around the weapon, and wrenched it free.
Rade shoved her off of him with his other arm, kneed her in the face as he clambered to his feet, and kicked the blaster from her hands.
She responded by dishing out a solid punch to the solar plexus area. The suit absorbed the blow, but he was sent flying backwards and slammed into a nearby pillar. He slid to the ground, but was still on his feet as she came at him again.
She punched, but he deflected the blow. She jabbed at his body with her other hand, and he parried with his opposite hand. She twirled her hands outward, grabbed him by the wrists, then spun, lifting him from the ground. He moved in an arc through the air—she released him halfway through the swing, and he was flung backward toward the debris.
