AI - Alpha Part 31

"No," Thomas said, not because he didn't think it was possible, but because he didn't want to believe it

could happen.

"Well, so you say." Charon considered him the way a fumigator might look at a bug. "However, I have one small problem. You."

Thomas tensed, ready to fight as his adrenaline ramped up.

Charon glanced at Alpha. "Quiet, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir." Alpha had perfected her lack of affect so well, she sounded more mechanical than an

automated robot. She met Thomas's gaze without a hint of sympathy.

Charon turned back to him. "I'm afraid you present too much danger to my plans. As long as you live, I run the risk of your escaping and carrying all that you know back to your military."

Sweat was running down Thomas's neck. "I could be useful."

"It's true," Charon said mildly, as if they were discussing the weather. "I could interrogate you." His face

suddenly twisted and lost its veneer of rationality. "Or I could kill you for f.u.c.king my android."

The change caught Thomas by surprise, and he would have jumped back if he hadn't already been against the wall. So Alpha had told Charon. Despite everything, it felt like a kick in the gut.

Charon moved so fast, Thomas had no time to dodge. The android struck Thomas's shoulder and

slammed him into the wall. Thomas tried to lunge away, but he stumbled on his broken leg. Even as he snapped up his fists to defend himself, he knew it was useless; Charon had the body of a man in his thirties with augmented strength and speed. Not to mention the EL-38. Thomas went for the gun, and Charon knocked him away as easily as if Thomas were moving through mola.s.ses.

Charon didn't kill him, though. Instead he stepped back and considered Thomas as if he were a mildly

interesting gnat. "A demonstration, just in case you had ideas of attacking."

Thomas stood breathing heavily, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had known Charon was insane, but it didn't prepare him for the reality. Although the chemical imbalances in the original Charon's brain wouldn't be replicated in an android, the copy would have bizarre neural patterns established by Charon's delusions and vindictive nature. Lord only knew what would happen if he achieved his goals with the forma mercenaries.

At least the Pentagon knew about Charon now. Even if Thomas died here, their investigations would continue. Except they believed Charon was dead. All Charon had to do was lie low, maybe hide here on the island until the furor over Thomas's disappearance subsided. Then he could resume where his previous copy had left off. What world were they creating, when people could die and then resume their lives as if nothing had happened? Maybe he was too old to accept it, but Thomas didn't want to live in such a world.

"You didn't think I was coming back," Charon said.

Thomas took a deep breath. "No, I didn't."

"It took a while to download my neural patterns."

He could guess why Charon hadn't answered Alpha's messages. "The forma body was at a different

location than your patterns. And it had to go to you because you didn't want to connect to the world mesh." Thomas might have taken similar security precautions to hide. "When you were finally operational, you followed Alpha's directions here." Of course she had set up a trail.

"I've many ways to monitor my Q-3 beauty," Charon murmured.

Thomas was tiring in a way that had nothing to do with illness. He couldn't outfight or outmaneuver

both Charon and Alpha. He knew it and they knew it. He had to warn the President and the Pentagon and the NIA, but he didn't see how he could even leave this room.

"I should kill you," Charon said. "But maybe you have value."

Hope flickered in Thomas. Perhaps he could bargain his way into a better situation. "I know a lot that could help you."

Charon walked around him, pacing out a semicircle with Thomas at the center. "I build formas, General, beautiful constructs like nothing else. I want a world where we can live as we please."We. Not them. He included himself. "Humans and formas can live together.""I don't want to live together. I want control."A chill went up Thomas's back. "Of what?""Anything. Everything.""Every forma?"

"Maybe. And maybe I'm tired of talking." Charon stepped closer, and Thomas raised his fists.

"Oh, stop," Charon said. "I'm not going to beat you up. That would be too easy." He waved at the doorway. "You can go."

Thomas wasn't certain he had heard right. "What?"

Charon's laugh had a manic edge. "Go outside. Explore the island." He raised his hand as if offering a dinner invitation. "You're free to leave."

Thomas didn't believe him. He glanced at Alpha. She remained by the door, her face impa.s.sive, her

fatigues a jarring contrast to the pale walls. He limped carefully past Charon, toward the door, and she watched, but she neither moved nor reacted. Although he was aware of Charon behind him, he didn't hear the android following.

As Thomas reached the door, Charon said, "By the way, the controls of the Q-3 and my jet are locked.

You can't do anything with them."

Thomas turned to him. "But I can just walk out of here?"

"Of course," Charon said mildly. "Tell me, General, how much have you eaten these past two days? That has stayed down."

As he thought about it, Thomas felt the edge of his hunger. "Enough." It was a lie, and they all knew it.

"I do have one constraint for you," Charon said. "You can go anywhere on the island, but you can't take

supplies." He looked Thomas over as if he were measuring him for a coffin. "When I catch you, I get to kill you any way I choose. Nice and slow, quick and dirty, whatever I like."

When. Not if. Thomas's chill was turning into nausea. He looked at Alpha. "You don't have to do this."

She said nothing. Expressed nothing.

Charon aimed the EL-38 at Thomas. "If you aren't out of here in thirty seconds, I shoot."

Thomas didn't doubt it. He limped out of the bedroom, trying to ignore Alpha.

"You have twenty-four seconds left," she said.

Thomas jerked at the flat sound of her voice. He tried not to let it affect him, but he could smell her

scent, musk and soap, an inescapable reminder of last night. It was tearing him up, and it killed him that he felt that way. He went through the console room as fast as he could manage, but he had to grab tables to keep from falling, and he stumbled on his plastiflexed foot. He heard someone following, and his

back itched as he waited for the bullets. Just one from that gun would set shock waves rippling through

his insides-and the EL-38 never shot only one bullet.

It seemed longer than thirty seconds before he got outside. His sense of time had slowed the way it did in a dogfight. Limping from the porch onto the beach, he could see the fighter in the distance and another aircraft beyond.

The machine gun suddenly hammered and tore up rocky sand on either side of Thomas. He froze, staring at the jets while his pulse skyrocketed. Grit and pebbles pelted his lower body and sand swirled in the air from the onslaught.

It stopped as abruptly as it had started. Thomas waited a few moments more and then slowly turned, his hands out from his side. Alpha and Charon were standing about ten yards away, side by side on the slab of concrete that fronted the weather station. Charon was holding the gun in one hand and Alpha had the defibrillator.

"Stay away from the jets," Charon told him. To Alpha he said, "Do it."

Alpha kept her gaze on Thomas as she tossed the defibrillator on the ground. They all stood that way in

a tableau. Sweat soaked Thomas's s.h.i.+rt. Above them, a bird squawked, maybe a seagull; Thomas didn't know. Then it flew on.

Charon fired.

Bullets slammed into the defibrillator and tore it apart with such fury, it disintegrated. After barely two

seconds, Charon stopped and raised the machine gun so it was aimed at Thomas.

Charon smiled with undisguised cruelty. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the nitroglycerine bottle. "Hey, Romeo, recognize this?"

Thomas felt as if he were suffocating. "Yes."

"Good." He opened the bottle and poured the pills onto the concrete. Then he ground the heel of his

combat boot into them until only dust remained.

"Go on, old man." Charon motioned with his gun. "Run. Run fast before I do to you what I did to those pills." Malice burned in his gaze. "Or better yet, I'll have Alpha do it. Seems fitting, don't you think?"

Thomas told himself it didn't matter, and he would be dead anyway. Except it did matter. It was another