Camp Alien (7 page)

T
HE KITTY-BOT SAW ME
coming, stopped striding with purpose, then started running right for me. In her pumps. So she wasn't really programmed to be me, which was something of a relief.

Figured the Secret Service would be planning to get involved, which meant I needed to get the Kitty-Bot away from the Rose Garden and back into the middle of the South Lawn, so when she exploded the blast wouldn't hurt anyone.

We were running at each other like we were jousting, only without horses and lances. So, okay, maybe not just like jousting, but along similar lines. Didn't have a lot of time to do math, but either she wasn't trying as hard or I was faster, because I'd judged where we should have met and we were farther from the Rose Garden than I'd figured we'd be. One for the win column.

I'd fought androids during Operations Assassination and Destruction, and I remembered how hard they could hit. But much of their abilities depended upon which android model they were. And, based on time alone, the Kitty-Bot was, hopefully, an older, less advanced model.

Of course I didn't want to just slam into the Kitty-Bot. When I was close enough I launched myself into a tackle. Got her around the waist and we flew backward, for her, forward for me. Realized why football players preferred to do this kind of work in padding, but forged on and did my best to channel rugby players and mixed martial arts fighters.

We went down with me on top. She didn't tuck her head, but said head hitting the ground didn't even make her blink.
She didn't feel as hard as either Bryce Taylor or Leslie Manning had. She didn't feel like Sandra the Android, either. I hadn't fought with either John Butler or Cameron Maurer—though Maurer had held me up in the air with one hand when he was choking me—so I couldn't compare her to them. But, in my limited experience, she didn't hurt to hit nearly as badly as the other androids had.

She smelled of pine, which was a really weird perfume to go with, but who was I to question android perfume choices? Perhaps she'd gotten the special scented oils at her last tune-up.

“What are you doing?” the Kitty-Bot shouted as she hit at me. She sounded like me. How extra-special. She hit hard, but not as hard as I was used to. We rolled around, though I was able to ensure that we rolled away from the Rose Garden. Was also fairly sure that my skirt had ripped.

“Stopping you from whatever you're planning.” Roll, hit, roll, hit. Heart's “Kick It Out” came on my airwaves. At least my iPod and earbuds were hanging tough. Did my best to kick while we rolled, but I miscalculated and the Kitty-Bot rolled so she was on top of me and got me pinned.

She started to hit me, but I'd been in this situation before and didn't even need Tito to shout instructions. Got my arms up over my head so she was only hitting my forearms. Hit her hard with a knee to her back and she went forward. Used my pelvis to throw her off, shoved hard at her with my hands while she was moving, then leaped up from the ground to my feet, just like they did in the movies: from my back, no hands. Really and truly hoped someone, anyone, was witness to this—the skills were working exceptionally well, and that usually meant no one I wanted to impress was around to see them. The fact that I heard my suit jacket rip was irrelevant to the coolness of the move.

Got out of my wrecked jacket, then grabbed her with the intent to try to rip one of her arms off. Didn't work, mostly because she pulled out of my hold.

“Get your hands off me. I have a message for the President.”

“You can share it with me. I'll make sure he gets it.” Slammed a front ball kick into her midsection. My skirt definitely ripped on that one.

She staggered back a couple steps. She might not have
been as hard as the other androids, but she was still more painful to hit than any human or alien, and I
had
hit a lot of those over the past years.

Went for the tackle again. She wasn't really ready to block it, meaning I was able to grab her. But this time I wasn't able to bring her to the ground, so we were grappling while standing up and sort of flinging each other around without letting go.

She threw me off of her. I didn't go sailing, like I had with other androids. So either the Kitty-Bot wasn't trying all that hard, or I was right—she was an older model. For all I knew, she wasn't really an android, just a robot, though I'd look to Chuckie and Serene for the distinction, if there even was one.

Landed in a crouch that would have made every kung fu instructor I'd ever had glow with pride and claim to be the one who'd taught me to do it. The Kitty-Bot, meanwhile, spun and headed back toward the Rose Garden. Interesting. The mission appeared to be all for her. Of course, Mom, my Secret Service detail, Serene, Chuckie, Reader, Tim, and Tito were all here, between her and the Rose Garden, so maybe she was just going to try to blow up the maximum number of participants.

Launched myself at her and caught her from behind this time. We went to the ground again. This time, though, I wasn't going to allow her to get into a better position. Grabbed her head and put it into a lock.

Before I could decide if I was willing to pull her head off or not, Chuckie ran up with a pen. I'd have made a smartass comment but we'd learned that pens fit into the android ears and were able to hit the off switch.

He jammed the pen into her ear. Nothing happened.

“What are you doing?” she shouted. “That hurts!” She managed to pull the pen out.

Chuckie looked confused. “I know I hit the right spot.”

“Dude, I have nothing for you other than that the Kitty-Bot is still fighting me and I'm going to have to rip her head off unless you come up with something else.”

“I have a message for the President,” she shouted. “Stop trying to stop me! I'm the wife of the Vice President and I need to get inside.”

As she said this she managed to get out of my necklock
and bucked, tossing me into Chuckie. He didn't go down and steadied both of us, but the Kitty-Bot was heading for the others.

Mom stepped out in front and my stomach clenched. “Who am I?” she asked the Kitty-Bot.

“An enemy of the state.” The Kitty-Bot pointed her left arm at Mom, like it was a gun.

At that, my Secret Service detail converged on the Kitty-Bot as one. She went down under a dogpile of sturdy, serviceable suits. There were six of them, four of them men, and she'd had trouble with just me.

Sure enough, they subdued the Kitty-Bot. “Go team.” Tried to go over to the others but Chuckie kept a firm hold on me. He also gently pulled my earbuds out, right in the middle of Social Distortion's “Don't Drag Me Down.”

“Love how you told Serene to keep everyone politically important inside and yet you charged the android.”

“She's impersonating
me
. Did we ever tell you about her?”

“No, you didn't.” Chuckie didn't sound happy about this.

Filled him in fast on the whats and wherefores, as few of them as we had. “So, I think she's here to kill Mom.”

“I think she's here to kill the President. She wasn't trying to kill you. But if she's really an older model, that might explain why the off switch isn't in the same place on her as it is on the other androids.”

“If she is an android. She seems far less . . . realistic then they all were and are.”

The Secret Service had the Kitty-Bot standing up and her hands were cuffed behind her. She looked roughed up, which wasn't surprising. But she didn't look upset. Realized she'd kept the same expression on her face the entire time—determined concern.

“Robots and androids are pretty close, Kitty.”

“But they're not the same. And the Kitty-Bot seems much more like a robot.”

Reader came over to us. Chuckie didn't release his hold on me, and Reader didn't seem to disapprove. “Yates was into robotics, but most of those connections were into Titan. Though not all.”

“I need to speak to the President,” the Kitty-Bot said. “I have an urgent message for him.”

“You're going to tell it to me,” Mom said, voice radiating authority.

“You are an enemy of the state. All enemies of the state must be destroyed. I can only share my information with the President.”

“That's it.” I wrenched out of Chuckie's hold and slipped past Reader. “It's head ripping time.” Got in front of Mom. “Who the hell am I?”

The Kitty-Bot didn't blink. “An enemy of the state.”

My brain nudged. She'd said something when I was fighting her and talking to Chuckie. And if she was a robot, versus an android, that meant her programming was far less sophisticated. “Who
is
the President?”

“The President of the United States.”

“Right, we're outside his house, we're clear on which President you want. What's his
name
? We can't let you through to see the President unless you can properly identify him.”

The Kitty-Bot blinked. Clearly I'd said something that registered. “I'm the wife of the Vice President and I have an urgent message for President Vincent Armstrong.”

E
VERYONE GAPED AT HER,
other than Chuckie and Reader, who'd joined us. “We'll discuss your throwing yourself in front of danger later,” Chuckie said, in a tone that indicated he was talking to everyone else more than he was talking to me. “Kitty, your thoughts?”

Waited. The Kitty-Bot didn't speak. “I think that Antony Marling did far better work, that's what I think.”

“If this is the same thing we saw six years ago with Ronald Yates at the Pueblo Caliente courthouse, then she's not only older, but she was created for one reason only, and that was to blow up,” Reader pointed out.

“But to blow up a specific person. And apparently that person is no longer my mother.”

Mom stepped up next to me. “Thanks for the protective shield, kitten.” She studied the Kitty-Bot. “It's good enough to fool for a few seconds, and that's all a recognition bomb needs.”

“Recognition as in it's triggered by seeing the person targeted?”

“Yes.” Mom's eyes narrowed. “So I'm clearly not the target. It's had plenty of time to register me, you, all of us here. We're all close enough that we'd be killed by almost any conventional bomb. So none of us is the target.”

“No, Vince is.” Thought about that. “So,” I said to the Kitty-Bot, “is your message also for the Vice President, your husband?”

She cocked her head at me. “The Vice President should be in the room with the President when I share my urgent message.”

“Gotcha. Anyone else?” I asked nicely, while I ignored the many WTF looks I was getting from everyone other than, interestingly enough, Tito.

“No,” the Kitty-Bot said. “My message is for the two of them only.”

“Who am I?” Tito asked nicely.

The Kitty-Bot swiveled her head toward him in a very non-human and also non-android way. She stared at him. “I don't know.”

“Well, I'm your friend,” Tito said. “I'm here to help you achieve your mission. So are many of these others.”

She looked at all of us. “Those two are enemies of the state,” she said, looking at me and Mom.

“We have them contained, so they can't stop you. Where's your off switch?” Tito asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The President and Vice President aren't here,” Tito said, still keeping his tone pleasant and friendly. “We're here to assist you. And we're thinking you might need to rest, while we find them. So, you might want to power down. But if you do, we want to be able to turn you back on, wake you up, at the right time.”

“Oh.” The Kitty-Bot blinked slowly. “When will they be back?”

“We don't know,” Tito said. “And you look like you've come a long way to deliver your message.”

At this both Reader and Chuckie looked at the Kitty-Bot more closely. “Take a sniff,” I said to them. “Tito's right, I think.”

“I have,” the Kitty-Bot said to Tito. “The President was not where he was supposed to be. I had to locate him.”

“You walked the whole way?” Tito asked.

“Yes, sixty-nine-point-five miles.”

Chuckie jerked. “She smells like pine. And that's exactly how far it is to Camp David from the White House via conventional means.”

“You mean via highways and such.”

Tito nodded. “You stayed on the roads?” he asked the Kitty-Bot.

“Near them. I . . . don't know the area very well.”

“Meaning she wasn't programmed for this, necessarily,”
Reader said. “She's just clear enough on her goal that she's adapted and gone to the next most obvious place.”

“Serene, we need to contain the Kitty-Bot in some way, and you're going to have to be the one in charge of that.” The Kitty-Bot's head swiveled back toward me. “Serene can help you rest correctly.”

“I'm not supposed to rest until I deliver my urgent message to the President.”

“Yeah, but he's not here. We don't know where he is. No one does. So, you should plan to wait a while.”

“Can you tell us how to help you power down?” Tito asked. “That way you won't be worn out when it's time to deliver your message.”

“That . . . makes sense.” The Kitty-Bot seemed to reach a decision. “If you are really here to help me, tell me what my message is.”

We were all quiet. Thought about what the actual message would be. It would be short, because Jeff was an A-C and therefore no one who knew that would program any robot for a lengthy monologue. Doubted anyone else had a better guess, other than maybe Tim. This was, after all, my area of expertise.

“Your message is: Goodbye.”

The Kitty-Bot blinked. “That is correct.” Her head swiveled back to Tito. “My system controls are in my lower back. All items should be clearly labeled.”

“Can you turn yourself on and off?” Tito asked, sounding concerned.

“No,” she said slowly. “I don't think so.”

He nodded. “Don't worry, we'll make sure you're woken up when it's time to deliver your message.”

She nodded and Tito went to her back. He fiddled around, Chuckie and Reader watching him. “Huh, it's very clearly marked. Goodnight,” he said to the Kitty-Bot, still nicely. Then he flipped whatever switch and she went still and “dead.” She looked like C-3PO did when he powered down. There but not there.

“Well, this is going to give me all the nightmares I'll ever need. Let's get her somewhere safe.”

Serene was on her phone, and I saw a floater gate shimmer into existence nearby. Four Field teams arrived, along with six Dazzlers and a stretcher. “This one needs to go into
a strong containment chamber,” Serene said. “We have no idea how it's armed or what will trigger it, but it's turned off right now.”

The Kitty-Bot was removed. The icky feeling didn't leave me when she did. Always the way and totally par for my personal course.

“How did the two of you know what to do and say?” Tim asked. “I seriously had no real guesses. And I'm kind of shocked that Chuck didn't get there first.”

“Chuckie was dealing with keeping me from getting killed, and you weren't on the team when we first saw the Kitty-Bot.”

“Neither was Tito, and he was hired on a lot later,” Tim pointed out.

Tito shrugged. “It's clearly not an advanced android. The sentience level wasn't there, let alone the facial expressions, and, in fact, she wasn't even able to identify that she was a copy of Kitty. That indicates relatively simple programming.”

“Meaning that if we found the right trigger phrases . . .” I shrugged. “We're just good at guessing, go us.”

“How did you know the message?” Mom asked.

“Because whoever found and set up the Kitty-Bot knows that the ‘Vice President' is an A-C, meaning he can move fast enough to escape the blast. So two syllables would be it, max.”

“That seems less . . . baroque . . . than Cliff would have managed,” Chuckie said.

“Which is part of the reason why I'm kind of sure it's not Cliff or any of his immediate cronies behind this. I don't think Drax is behind it, either, or anyone from our favorite Corporations of Evil.”

Got the crowd's attention, go me. “Who do you think
is
behind it?” Mom asked.

“Someone too dead to make alterations.”