Archangel Down: Archangel Project. Book One (20 page)

6T9 made a sound that sounded like a sigh. “I’m not a good enough player to offer her sufficient stimulation.”

“Shame about those aliens, I may never finish my game,” Eliza said breezily.

“Ma’am,” one of the Patrolmen said, “I hope you’ve turned off your neural net.”

“Turned it off?” said the old woman. “Son, I am one of the original settlers. I never fooled with any of that newfangled gadgetry! I chat with my Earth friends via holo chat.” She harrumphed, and the trooper actually tipped his helmet.

“Sorry, ma’am, just had to say so.”

“There were more troopers,” James said.

The globe flickered, and James was looking at two troopers in what looked to be a laundry room. “That’s just to your left,” said 6T9 cheerfully.

Before James could take a breath, the globe flickered again, and the gardening room came into view. There were two troopers in the room, stunners upraised. “And that,” said 6T9, “is the room to your right.”

“Shhhh … ” said Noa.

In the globe, one of the troopers approached the wall of equipment and reached toward the wall.

“Oh,” said 6T9, “perhaps they know we are here.” James glanced up at the ‘bot. His face was completely serene.

James’s eyes dropped back to the globe just in time to see the trooper’s fingers passing within inches of the spade. James found one of his hands balling into a fist, the other on Noa’s back.

Instead of picking up the spade, the trooper picked up one of the pteranodon houses. Stunner upraised in his opposite hand, he turned to his companion and said, “This is really well done.”

His companion shook his head and swung his flashlight beam around the room. “Don’t take granny’s ptery house.”

“I wasn’t going to,” the first protested.

“Come on,” said his companion. “There are still rooms to check upstairs.”

The globe flickered once more, and James saw four troopers in the kitchen around a table eating bowls of soup. “This is really good!” said one.

“Undisciplined.” Noa shook her head. “Eliza is still an old fox.”

“Oh, yes, she is,” said 6T9. “I call her my silver fox.”

“Please don’t tell me any more,” Noa said, throwing up a hand.

“That comment wasn’t gratuitous at all,” said 6T9.

“But you wander off on gratuitous tangents all the time,” Noa said. “And I’m trying to nip it in the bud.”

6T9 tilted his head. “I like to nip—”

“Shut up,” said Noa.

6T9’s mouth snapped shut, and James found himself unexpectedly feeling pity for the ‘bot. In the twenty-first century, humankind had hoped for so much from robots, androids, and AI—and feared so much, too. But that was before Moore’s Law ran smack into Moore’s Wall—significant improvements in computer processing power hadn’t been made in centuries. Instead, humankind had plugged into perhaps the most sophisticated processor in the universe with nanos and neural nets … their own minds. Augmented with nano storage, and apps for memorization tasks and computations, humans could do all the feats they’d imagined AIs would do. ‘Bots, on the other hand, seemed like simple humans.

A few breathless minutes later, in the hologlobe the Luddeccean patrolmen said goodbye to Eliza.

Her head bobbled, and she grinned and waved as they left—the perfect granny. As soon as she shut the door behind them, her demeanor changed completely. Her eyes went to slits. She looked directly up at one of the cameras and shook her cane.

“That is the sign for us to go up,” 6T9 said. Putting the hologlobe back in the cabinet, 6T9 jumped up, grabbed another handle set into the ceiling, and pulled. A chunk of the ceiling opened up and 6T9 pulled down a ladder. He was about to start up it when Noa said, “I’ll go first. I don’t need the view of your moon and saber.”

Lifting his chin, 6T9 smiled. “I know those metaphors. They have sexual overtones.”

From above came a cackle. “I quite like the view of your moon and saber, 6T9!”

6T9 pointed up. “Eliza quite likes my—”

“Shut up,” Noa grumbled, sliding by him, arms protectively around the still completely-hidden Carl Sagan.

6T9’s mouth snapped shut.

From above, Eliza said, “Noa, are you insulting the love of my life?”

Noa snorted.

6T9’s face went blank. He turned to James, and for just a moment James thought he saw a flicker of something—concern maybe?

But then 6T9 smiled at James. “Would you like a view of my moon and saber?”

“No,” said James.

“After you then,” said 6T9, holding up a hand, a pleasant smile on his face and all trace of concern gone.

For a moment, James froze. ‘Bots of all sorts could “feel” concern for matters within their primary function—James’s dig ‘bots “fretted” often enough about the proper force to use when clearing dust from artifacts—although “voiced concerns” was perhaps a better description than “fretted.” But what about the last statement could concern a sex ‘bot, James couldn’t imagine. Shaking his head, he hastily climbed up the ladder.

N
oa ducked
her head and crawled out of a narrow doorway into Eliza’s kitchen. She blinked back over her shoulder. The doorway was cleverly disguised as a kitchen cabinet. Scrambling to her feet, wobbling only a little in exhaustion, she smiled at Eliza, a snappy comment on 6T9’s nudity on her tongue. The comment died as she looked at Eliza for the first time in proper lighting. It had been only a few years since she’d last visited Eliza—but the woman seemed to have aged decades in that time. She was shorter, more stooped. Her hair, once steel gray, was now completely white, thin and wispy, and didn’t completely conceal her scalp—although Noa noted that the fine wisps were strategically collected with a colorful rose bloom pin right above the spot her data port would be. Her face seemed to have collapsed in on itself in wrinkles. Inwardly, Noa’s heart sank, but with some effort she was able to keep the smile on her face. Carl Sagan poked his nose out of the cocoon of her jacket. She stroked her fingers between his ears.

“So you’ve got a young man at last,” Eliza cackled, leaning on her cane. “About time.”

Noa scowled as the werfle ran up behind her shoulder. “I do not have a young man,” she hissed in irritation. Eliza had never remarried, and the implication that Noa was better off with a significant other was downright hypocritical.

“Really?” said Eliza, her voice wheezy, high, and chiding, an impish smile on her thin lips.

Before Noa could retort, James poked his head out and nodded politely up at Eliza.

The old woman’s eyes went wide, the chiding smile vanished. “He looks like––”

Tim. It wasn’t just Noa who saw the resemblance, and Noa wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She shook her head, to say,
no, we’re not a couple
, or
no, don’t talk about Tim, please.

“Like who?” James asked, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off.

“Like he’s hungry!” Eliza said brightly, in true Luddeccean grandmotherly fashion. Noa nodded her head at Eliza in acknowledgment of the small mercy.

Thumping her cane, Eliza commanded, “6T9, get these people” ––Carl Sagan chirped from Noa’s shoulder–– “and their werfle some soup!”

Poking his head out of the cabinet door, 6T9 stared up at Carl Sagan. “That’s not a rat?”

Noa barely heard Eliza’s response. On shaky legs, she sank gratefully into a chair. Following her, Eliza said, “And while he’s doing that, I expect you to tell me all about how you came to be on the Luddeccean Most Wanted list.” Her voice lowered and her eyes narrowed sharply. “And then you can tell me why you need
my help
.” There was accusation in that voice, and oddly it made Noa smile with relief. As much as Eliza’s body had aged, her mind was still sharp.

A
t Eliza’s table
, Noa sat with a half-eaten bowl of soup before her. 6T9’s cooking app was very good, but Noa couldn’t finish. Carl Sagan was lapping from a bowl of broth in the corner. Next to her, James was on his third bowl of the stuff. 6T9 had left the room to prepare rooms for James and Noa to sleep in.

Eliza was sitting in front of her, nervously playing with some beads around her neck. Her eyes were still bright and sharp—Noa’s relief at that was tempered by the fact that the more of her story she told, the deeper Eliza’s frown lines became.

“So,” Noa said, “I think at this point the best option is to bring in outside assistance.”

“The fastest any deep space vessel can reach the next time gate is 9.633 years,” Eliza said. She exhaled shakily.

Noa leaned back in her seat. She wasn’t sure how many details of the hidden time gate to reveal—she trusted Eliza, but good intentions weren’t enough to hide the truth if someone were to pry loose your neural net. And Eliza still had her neural net in place, that was for certain. Although Noa couldn’t see the port, the old woman’s observations were too precise to be anything but net enhancement. One of Eliza’s eyebrows rose. “And frankly my dear, I don’t think I’ll live that long.”

Before Noa’s brain and net had a chance to process that reply, 6T9 walked into the kitchen and interjected, “The doctor said you’re perfectly healthy. The cancer you had was completely eradicated by the immunotherapy and the plaques in your heart and brain were removed by nanos.”

“It isn’t my health I’m worried about, dear,” Eliza said.

6T9 came over to the table; it put his derriere closer than was comfortable to Noa’s nose. He’d thankfully put on a pair of boxer briefs beneath his apron—hot pink boxer briefs—but it was still disquieting. She found herself leaning away from him. Where he sat between Eliza and Noa, one of James’s eyebrows rose.

“If not your health, then what, darling?” 6T9 said, leaning over the table, putting a hand on Eliza’s shoulder. His expression was such a facsimile of human concern that Noa nearly shivered. She didn’t mind ‘bots that looked like ‘bots, but the ones that looked human and talked like humans made her uneasy. It was, as her military psyche training taught her, too easy to bond with a human-like ‘bot—a faulty glitch in the emotional centers of the human brain. For that reason, military ‘bots never looked human, so no commander ever felt guilty sending a drone on a self-destruct mission.

Eliza was silent. Noa’s eyebrows rose. 6T9 hadn’t heard her conversations, and Eliza hadn’t told 6T9 that possessing a ‘bot was illegal … If she had, 6T9 might have wiped his memory and turned himself in. Eliza was risking her life for a ‘bot … Noa rubbed her temples. If she didn’t need Eliza’s money, she might call her on it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught James’s gaze on her, inscrutable, emotionless, and probably judgmental. She got the feeling he didn’t approve of 6T9. She wished she could reach him through the ethernet to reassure him that she didn’t approve of 6T9 either.

“You contributed to the premier’s campaign fund,” said 6T9, snapping Noa back to the present.

“What?” said Noa, eyes going wide in alarm. Apparently, Eliza had been discussing some politics with her ‘bot. James sat up straighter in his chair.

Waving a hand at Noa and James, Eliza said, “Don’t worry, I never supported his policies.”

“Then why did you fund him?” James said.

“Because he was going to win,” Eliza snapped.

“You said contributing to his campaign fund would protect you against vicious gossip and wagging tongues,” said 6T9. “That’s what you’re afraid of, right?” He shook his head and tsked. “You shouldn’t be. Gossip won’t kill.”

Noa sighed. Gossip was all the danger 6T9 could conceive of, she supposed. It was probably beyond his processing power to understand that they were in the midst of a genocide.

Turning to 6T9, voice soft, Eliza said, “My money won’t protect me anymore, dear.”

6T9’s head tilted to the side. “Why not?”

Eliza gave a wry smile. “Because I don’t think there will be any more elections.”

“But that is part of the charter, elections every six years,” 6T9 protested.

“They will change it,” said Eliza.

Next to her, James sighed and put down his spoon. “If history is any indication they’ll find a way.”

Noa took a deep breath. “Yep.”

Eyes glued to Eliza, 6T9 said, “I do not understand.”

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” said Eliza.

6T9’s expression softened immediately. “Okay.” He smiled a smile of utter peace and contentment—because an end to worry was simple as an order when you were a ‘bot.

Stroking her beads, Eliza said, “Why don’t you go upstairs, prepare some towels and clothes for Noa and James, too. You gave them separate rooms, right?”

6T9 nodded, and Eliza smiled brightly. “I’ll join you shortly.”

6T9’s smile dropped. Dipping his chin, he raised an eyebrow and then winked at Eliza, giving a look that Noa supposed would be “smoldering” … if you didn’t know it came from a ‘bot. She glanced between James’s light features, and 6T9’s more conventional tan skin and brown eyes. Both of them were two of the most beautiful examples of masculinity she’d been around in a while. And she wasn’t attracted to either of them, for very different reasons. She smiled bitterly to herself. It was unfair, but sadly convenient.

“I will be expecting you,” 6T9 said in a low voice.

Putting a hand to her chest, Eliza giggled like a schoolgirl. “Yes, sir.”

Noa rolled her eyes as 6T9 prowled out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Noa turned back to Eliza. “You see why this is so important, then.”

Looking at the table, Eliza fidgeted with her place mat. “Yes … but I must consider my options. 9.633 years … ”

“There is a faster way,” said Noa.

Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “You said you need money to help finance a mission … I know you have no ship, so you must be stealing one, and I don’t know how you can get by the grid … ”

“I have a plan. But the less you know the better.”

“So you say,” said Eliza, looking away. “To get past the blockade you’d need either a very big ship or a very small one, but a very small one wouldn’t last in deep space … a big ship … ” she rocked in her chair.

Eliza’s eyes slipped to James. He was dipping a roll in a plate of rinseed oil. It struck Noa that he looked too big for the tiny table, and just the simple act of dipping the bread seemed a feat of difficult maneuvering for his large frame.