by M. R. Forbes
What was she even doing here, of all places?
“He has something of mine. General Stacker suggested I come to you to retrieve it.”
“Interesting that he would send you on your own,” Isabelle said. “Are you certain you have his blessing?”
Was she in contact with the general? Did she know he wasn’t supposed to be here?
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you look like you can.” She held out her hand. “Come with me, Nathan. I’ll introduce you to Father.”
“What about the woman? Is she safe?”
“Why do you care about that?”
“She’s a friend of mine.”
“She is safe. She is in the holding pen, waiting for shipment to Fort McGuire in the morning.”
“Can I see her?”
“That won’t be possible. If you are with James, you can catch up to her at Fort McGuire.”
Nathan didn’t argue. It would be impossible to get a machine to change its directives so easily. Maybe the man she was calling Father would be more accommodating.
She wiggled her fingers, reaching her hand toward his. “Come now, Nathan. It isn’t smart to linger outside at night.”
He took her hand. She squeezed his. Not to be endearing. The grip was hard, pressing his hand so tightly he had to stop himself from grunting in pain. A warning, then. She might be designed to look like a waif, but she was no innocent girl.
She let go of his hand, their eyes meeting for an instant. Then she lowered her goggles back over her face, and they headed for the terminal.
“You’re going to like Father,” she said. “He’s a great partner to Tinker and the Liberators.”
Nathan didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how great of a partner the Crosston’s leader could be, considering James planned to send the Trust’s forces up against them. He wondered where they were right now? Still combing the city for evidence of Sheriff’s presence? Or had they been through this area and decided it was uninhabited?
Either way, they weren’t here.
But he was.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on Hayden’s face.
Chapter 45
Isabelle brought Nathan into the terminal. They stopped at the inner fence, and the guard pointed to an opening in the mesh on the left, where a heavy man sat at an old wooden table.
“Personal effects go with Opus,” the man said.
Nathan glanced over at the table, and then at the fenced-in storage area behind the stout man. He could see all of the crap piled on the shelves in there. Had Hayden turned over the ring to be put into storage? He doubted it.
“I’ll pass,” he said.
The man had spoken before he got a good look at Nathan. His face started to pale, and his eyes shifted nervously to Isabelle. “Uh.”
“It’s okay, Lane,” Isabelle said. “This is Nathan. I know what you’re thinking, but he is not related to the Iron General.” She turned to Nathan. “Though he is here on official Liberator business. Keep your things.”
“Yes, Mother,” Lane said. He unlocked the gate, pulling it open for them.
Nathan followed the robot through the community. It was quiet right now, most of the populace asleep in their tents and shanties, or exposed on mattresses and makeshift beds on the floor. The lights hanging from the ceiling had all been dimmed, keeping continuity with the world outside.
He followed the perimeter of the structure, taking note of the guards positioned on the walkways above, nearly a dozen of them spread around, walking short paths back and forth behind the railings. It wasn’t immediately clear if they were awake to defend the residents from the trife, or if they were there to dissuade anyone from trying to leave.
It was probably a little bit of both.
Isabelle led him to a more open space near the middle of the terminal, where a long, rectangular vehicle was resting in the center of a patch of rugs. The light inside the vehicle was the only light he had seen besides the ones hanging from the rafters.
“Father, I’ve brought you the visitor,” Isabelle said, going over to the door of the bus and knocking on it.
Another light went on further back, barely showing through the darkly tinted windows. Nathan waited while whoever was inside made their way to the front of the vehicle, and then appeared in the doorway.
He was wearing a lustrous red robe with a dark collar, cinched closed at the waist. He was an older man, handsome and clean shaven. He smiled when he saw Isabelle, reaching out to take her hand. She helped him to the floor, and he leaned in to kiss her in greeting before turning back to Nathan.
His eyes nearly exploded out of his head.
“G-g-g-g-general?” he said, stuttering. “Wha-wha-what are you doing here?”
“Relax, Father,” Isabelle said. “This isn’t James Stacker.”
It seemed to take the man a few seconds to process the statement. He came stiffly forward, tilting his head and examining Nathan.
“It isn’t?” he said. “You aren’t?”
“No.” He looked at Isabelle. “And I’m not here on official Liberator business. My needs are personal.”
The man laughed. “You want to kill him, don’t you?”
“If it comes to that, I will. He has something of mine. A ring.”
“A ring? I looked at his inventory. I didn’t see a ring on it. You, Mother?”
“No, Father,” Isabelle said.
“There you have it,” Father said. “No ring. I can’t help you.”
He turned to go back inside. What the fuck?
“Wait a second,” Nathan said. But Father didn’t turn around. He disappeared into the vehicle. “Isabelle?”
The robot shrugged. “He’ll send for you when he’s ready. Feel free to make yourself at home.” Then she vanished into the bus too, closing the door behind her.
Nathan stood there dumbfounded. That was the strangest exchange he had ever had with anybody.
He watched the lights in the vehicle go off. He waited a few minutes after that, to see if Isabelle could convince the man to come back out.
She didn’t.
He sighed, suddenly frustrated. This place was too big for him to find Hayden on his own very easily. Was that what the Crosston’s leader was suggesting he should do?
He was about to walk away, to wander off and explore the terminal when the door to the vehicle opened again. Isabelle came down the steps. She had changed from the ninja outfit to a floral-printed off the shoulder dress, giving him a better look at her synthetic flesh, complete with hints of veins below the porcelain surface. It was impressive work.
She turned her palm over, motioning for him with her index finger. He approached the vehicle, and she moved aside so he could enter.
He climbed the three steps up into the vehicle. There was a cockpit directly in front of him. A plush seat with a control wheel and pedals, along with information displays. He turned to the left, looking down a long corridor into the rest of the bus. It was all appointed in glossy dark wood and a white material that reminded him of synthetic leather.
“Walk,” Isabelle said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He started down the corridor until the space opened up to living quarters. Father was sitting on a thickly cushioned seat, leaned back with his feet up on a second cushion. He had a glass in his hand with a clear liquid in it.
He smiled at the sight of Nathan.
“My apologies, Nathan,” he said without moving to stand. “I was caught off-guard by your arrival. It is two in the morning, after all. Mother convinced me it would be better to speak with you now.” He waved to a long sofa on the other side of the aisle. “Please, have a seat. Do you drink?”
“Alcohol?” Nathan asked.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you drink water,” the man replied. “So yes, alcohol. Vodka, in this case. My people found a case of it hidden beneath a partially collapsed ceiling.”
He took a sip of it, his face tight. H
e breathed out audibly. “Ahhh.”
“No thank you,” Nathan said, sitting. He rested his rifle between his legs.
“I haven’t seen a weapon like that before,” Father said. “What does it shoot?”
“Plasma,” Nathan said. “Superheated gas.”
“Delicious,” Father replied.
“Sure,” Nathan said. He didn’t like the leader of Crosston. Did James feel the same way? “About Sheriff and the ring.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Mother may or may not have explained to you what happened with our friend Hayden earlier today?”
“I didn’t, Father,” Isabelle said.
“We had a little… disagreement. Hayden attacked me.” He pushed the collar of his robe out of the way and leaned his head over, showing a fresh bruise. “I didn’t appreciate it.”
Nathan clenched his teeth to suppress a laugh. “He’s a dangerous man.”
“He’s a fucking son of a bitch,” Father snapped, his face flushing. “He embarrassed me in front of my wife. He embarrassed me in front of my citizens. He won’t get away with that.”
“That’s fine with me,” Nathan said. “I just want the ring.”
“Yes, I’m getting to that. What will you trade me for it?”
“Nothing. It’s mine. It belongs to me.”
Father wagged his finger at him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sir. You said Hayden has the ring?”
“Yes.”
“And Hayden is under my roof?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“And Hayden attacked me, which as far as I’m concerned makes him my property.”
“If you say so,” Nathan said, getting impatient.
“And so anything in his possession has become my property.”
“You can have anything he didn’t steal from me.”
Father laughed. Mother laughed with him. Nathan wasn’t laughing.
“I can talk to General Stacker if you’d rather do it that way,” he said.
“Which brings us back to where we started. What will you trade me for the ring?”
Nathan decided not to do the logic circle again. “What do you want?”
“That gun, to start. What else do you have?”
Nathan smiled. “Nothing.”
Father waved his drink toward him. “Well, that’s a problem then, isn’t it? The rifle isn’t enough for something that’s clearly so valuable. Mother, why don’t we have the ring?”
“It must be on his body,” Isabelle replied.
“We didn’t strip search him?”
“No, Father. You had him brought directly to the botter for repair.”
“Oh yes. That’s right.” He raised a finger on his free hand. “That gives me an excellent idea.” He smiled at Nathan. “You want the ring? I’m going to give you a chance to get it. Just a chance, though. No guarantees.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nathan asked.
“Nathan, how would you like to play a game?”
Chapter 46
The next time Hayden woke up, the pain in his arm was gone.
He turned his head to the side, looking at the arm Pyro had attached to his modified control ring. It was bigger than the Centurion model. Armored plates ran down the side of it, overlapping one another. A mechanical ball joint served for his elbow, another for his wrist. Thick metal fingers attached to the hand, and they clicked slightly as he opened and closed them.
He lifted the arm and manipulated it, turning it over and swinging it across.
“Take it easy, Sheriff,” Pyro said, coming into view at his feet. “Gus’ arm is a lot heavier than your old one.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Hayden asked.
She shook her head. “Nope. I decided I like you, and I didn’t want you to lose today. So I stayed up to modify your ring a little bit. Twenty percent more tensile strength. How does that sound, Sheriff?”
“It sounds like every little bit helps.”
She smiled. “Can you sit up?”
He put the hand on the side of the table, intending to use it to push himself up. He heard groaning as the hand crushed the metal sides, bending it out of shape.
“Be careful!” Pyro snapped.
“Sorry.”
He tried again, gripping the table more gently. He levered himself into a sitting position that left him able to see the rest of the room.
It was more of a workshop. Bins filled with nuts and bolts and screws and all kinds of other small metal parts lined one full wall. Another wall had pegs drilled into it, where various arms, legs, hands, and feet were mounted for display. He found his Centurion hand among them, closest to the workbench in front of the replacement appendages.
A big, old computer sat on the desk, attached to a cracked monitor. Wires were spilling out of the machine, one of them connected to what looked like a much more modern piece of equipment. It was a small black box with a tiny slot in the front.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing at it.
“Of all the equipment in this room, that’s what you’re interested in?”
“Right now it is.”
“It’s a data card reader. Some of the replacements, they have cards that go into the control ring. You can make on the fly adjustments to things like tension, torque, and sensitivity. Gus’ hand doesn’t have it. Neither does yours.” She pointed to one of the legs on the wall. “That one does. Why so curious about it?”
Hayden reached into his pocket, looking for the ring.
It wasn’t there.
He took his hand out of the pocket, pressing against it. He didn’t feel anything. He moved his hand to another pocket, feeling for it.
“Oh, are you looking for this?” Pyro asked, picking it up off the desk, from between a pair of wires. “Sorry, it fell out of your pocket last night when you started convulsing.”
“I was convulsing?”
“Yeah. It happens sometimes. We don’t have the best pain management resources.” She tossed it at him, and he was careful to catch it in the Centurion hand. “A wedding band. But you already have one on your finger. Was it your wife’s?”
“Not exactly. Do you have a screwdriver?”
“That’s a stupid question.” She opened a drawer in the desk and picked out half a dozen. “Which one do you want?”
He pointed to the smallest flat-head. He took it from her, and carefully pried the stone out of the ring. Then he turned it over and dropped the tiny data chip into his hand.
“A surprise inside,” Pyro said, smiling. “Cool. What’s on it?”
“I don’t know. If you can read it, maybe you can tell me.”
She walked over to him and reached out. “May I?”
He handed it to her. She returned to her computer, looking at the chip and then at her reader.
“Not compatible, Sheriff,” she decided. “Sorry.” She brought it back to him. “Don’t let Loki see you have that. He’ll take it from you.”
“I figured that. Will you tell on me?”
“Not a chance. You remind me of my dad.”
“How?”
“You both hate Loki, for one. Hell, that’s good enough for me.”
“Is that why he isn’t here?”
She nodded. “He was slow to lock down the terminal one night. A trife got in. It killed a man before he killed it. Loki made him play as punishment. Then he had the chains holding the platform released and sent him falling to his death.”
Hayden’s heart began to pulse in anger and empathy. He had to remind himself not to close his hand and crush the ring. “I’m sorry, Pyro.”
“Not your fault, but thanks. Loki wants to protect us. I believe that. But he wants to satisfy his desires more. He gave up half the women in the terminal for that bitch of his. A straight trade with Tinker for a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, little whore of a wife.”
“Isabelle came from Tinker?” Hayden said.
“Yup.”
“You know she
isn’t real, right?”
“What?”
“She’s a robot. A machine.”
“How is that even possible?”
“The military had robots before the war. Tinker’s is just a little more advanced. I’m surprised he traded it to Loki. I was under the impression he takes what he wants.”
“Not from Loki. He would have executed every woman in this place before he would turn them over to Tinker for free.”
“Even if the Liberators killed everyone here in retaliation?”
She nodded.
Hayden put the ring back together and tucked it back into his pocket. He couldn’t imagine Tinker would be all that happy with Loki for making things difficult, but he didn’t know what kind of man Tinker was. What was he doing with all of those women, anyway?
“Here,” Pyro said, opening another drawer and pulling out some fresh clothes. “Loki wants you cleaned up and ready to go. Your underwear is in here too. Sorry, I had to cut off the sleeve to fit the new arm. What’s that stuff made out of anyway? I had to run it through my saw to get it apart, and it dulled the blade.”
Hayden hadn’t realized she’d taken off his Centurion bodysuit. He could feel his face heating up at the thought that she had seen him naked.
“I’m not a doctor, but I’m the next closest thing,” she said, smiling at his sudden discomfort. “You look like every other male human to me. Maybe a little more muscled than some of the folks here. Definitely a lot more scarred. You had some kind of patches over some pretty fresh wounds. I took them off, but it looks like they had mostly healed. You’re a real mongrel, Sheriff. A throwback to the marines who tried to save this planet. That’s the other reason I like you so much.”
“But you didn’t want to fix my other arm?”
“Me liking you won’t save you if Loki has his way. Besides, I have a feeling Gus’ arm will do you better in a brawl. It was made to be functional, not subtle.”
Hayden looked over at the arm again. There was nothing subtle about it.
He hopped off the table, taking the offered clothes. “Which way to the shower?”
She pointed behind him. “Through that door, turn left, second door on your right. If anyone out there gives you shit, punch them.” She laughed.
