Heart of Steel (14 page)

Alistair had said that he was half-blind without Arthur. Well, maybe if she could pin down Arthur’s location before the two of them hiked all over Shark Reef Isle, that would cut down on the amount of time spent looking.

And in the meantime she might have the chance to have a Come to Jesus meeting with Arthur about the disassembly matter.

She put Alistair’s hand on the bed at his side and stood up.

“Stickman,” she said. The spindly robot turned to face her. “Where is the nearest network access terminal?”

***

Mechanus returned to himself at the sensation of gentle hands massaging his right forearm.

No—not massaging, he realized as he registered the warm soapy water. Julia was washing his arm with a tenderness that he could only have dreamed of. The sensation was so deliciously delightful that he had to bite his lip to suppress a shiver of pleasure. Most of his body was incapable of receiving tactile input of any sort, but he’d never imagined how intensely sensitive his remaining skin could be. It was almost enough to counteract the pain in his injured bicep.

He was very relieved that she was facing away from him right now, as he was certain that if he moved or indicated that his flashback had ended, the attention would cease at once.

Without moving his head, he glanced over at his arm. The sleeve was gone, cut away near the shoulder, and white linen bandages covered his upper arm. Her work, no doubt. He continued taking stock of himself: His damaged eye had been replaced, as had the dented and damaged places in his face—titanium, he noticed. The previous ones had been surgical steel. He allowed himself a small smile at the upgrade, but it faded almost immediately when he noticed the continued absence of Arthur.

She was stroking his fingers now, but presently paused, stiffening slightly.

No—don’t stop, please—

He wondered what was going through her mind just then, wanted to know what suddenly distracted

her from his task. He watched her back quietly, and heard her sniffle. His heart sank. She wiped her eyes, her posture stiffening suddenly, and she set his hand aside and stood up.

“Stickman,” she said, “Where is the nearest network access terminal?”

Ah.

The spindly robot that she had dubbed Stickman pointed. “You will find one through there, third door on your left.”

She nodded. “Watch over him,” she told him quietly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Stickman bowed his head. “By your command.”

She nodded sharply, picked up the Ionizer, and headed out without a backward glance.

After what he judged to be a diplomatic interval, Mechanus sat up.

“How long was I out?” he asked Stickman.

“Six minutes,” the spindly robot replied. “I believe this has been your longest one yet.”

Mechanus grimaced. “I only wish Arthur had been able to record that one,” he sighed. “I think I had a name there.”

“Unknown, sir,” Stickman said, and then glanced after Julia. “She tended to your arm while you were unconscious.”

Mechanus examined the bandage; it was smooth and perfectly applied. “So I see. Stitches?”

“Yes. I did not see how many.”

Mechanus shook his head. “No matter. She was... quite helpful.” He looked at Stickman. “Any word from Scarface?”

“No, sir. The combat was still going on when we retreated in here.”

He bit his lip, but then shook his head again. “I’m certain he’ll be fine,” he said. “He always was rather tough.”

Suddenly he felt a connection being opened on the network. He frowned, investigating this new signal, and followed it to a nearby terminal.

> help

In response to the command, a list of potential options scrolled up the screen.

> find arthur

Mechanus suppressed a smile. She was starting with the basics, but of course if any one file was that easy to locate, he might as well give up on world conquest. He’d come up with the file system himself, along with the network operating system.

Then she typed something that surprised him.

> Arthur, you asshole, I know you’re in there somewhere!

Asshole? Did Julia have a fight with Arthur that he didn’t know about?

After a few seconds with no response, she typed in something else that surprised him even more.

> You cannot just threaten to kill me and then abandon Alistair when he needs you the most!

Mechanus staggered in shock and had to lean on the bed for support. He was certain that if Arthur thought she was a threat he would have told him, but...

Well, he would have to talk with Arthur once he recovered him, in any case.

> request status report

This came from within the system. Was it Arthur? Mechanus hardly dared to hope. He hadn’t even had time to properly search for him himself, not in light of recent developments.

> Jim’s crazy and trying to hunt us down, and Mechanus is half-blind without you, and got hurt fighting off Jim.

> request status of master

Mechanus ran a hand over his mouth, feeling vaguely like he was eavesdropping, but anxious to get Arthur back.

> deep laceration in his arm, 27 stitches, had to get his eye and some plates in his face replaced, was catatonic with a flashback when I left him.

> status??

Arthur managed to make that one word look urgent.

> I think he’ll be okay, but you have to get back to him *right now*. I’m worried he won’t be able to handle this without you. And I’m afraid of what Jim will do to him if he catches up again.

Mechanus chewed his lip, his brow furrowed as he mulled over this statement. He knew that Jim was truly after Julia, and intended for Mechanus to watch horrible things happen to her—but this didn’t even seem to occur to her at all.

She was more worried about him than herself.

Egad!

He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of this. Could this mean she was starting to reciprocate his feelings for her?

> i was only able to preserve my most basic kernel, miss julia

> He can rebuild you. We both need you. Do you want to be responsible for him getting killed by one of his own creations?

> negative. master created me.

Mechanus was indeed prepared to rebuild Arthur as much as possible, but what was this guilt trip she was laying on the A.I.? He’d nearly been destroyed, after all. Of course he’d be afraid.

> Then you need to get back to him. Please. I don’t want to see him

get hurt more over this. I want him to be able to face Jim without getting the crap beaten out of him again. I don’t wanmt hom to ge t killled.

Mechanus frowned again at the slight deterioration of her typing. He tapped into one of the security cameras and saw that her eyes were brimming with tears, but her jaw was set. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this.

Just then, Mechanus saw Scarface limping heavily towards him, the Jovian Stormcaller clenched carefully in his jaws. He turned his attention from the terminal’s feed, and saw the hulking shark-man bore a handful of fresh, bleeding gashes across the right side of his head and torso. Mechanus stood up and met him halfway just as Scarface stumbled.

“Master,” the shark-man rumbled as he fell into Mechanus, who staggered back several steps by the sudden weight. He took the Stormcaller from Scarface and handed it to the spindly utility robot.

“I’m here,” Mechanus said quietly, stroking Scarface’s nose in that familiar way.

“Fought off bad cyborg,” Scarface said. “Threw him down garbage chute. He won’t be back for a while.”

Mechanus smiled fondly. “Good boy,” he said. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Not bad,” Scarface judged, even in the face of all evidence to the contrary. “Scarface is tough.”

Mechanus uttered a small, fond chuckle and rubbed Scarface’s nose. “Indeed you are.”

Scarface beamed, an expression which even Mechanus had to admit was rather unnerving on a shark’s face.

Mechanus eased Scarface over to the bed and sat him down, and then pulled off his remaining glove and pressed the palm of his metal hand to the center of the shark-man’s chest. He closed his eyes and ran a rudimentary internal scan on the shark-man. To his relief, Scarface did not suffer any serious internal injuries in the fight. Even so, his other wounds required treatment.

Mechanus turned to the small surgical team of robots and appendages that had originally gathered, he presumed, to assist Julia. “Get him cleaned up and patched,” he said. He flexed his right arm experimentally and winced as the stitched gash throbbed in fresh pain. “And I’ll need some painkillers myself, it seems.”

This last was a strange notion to him, and clearly raised some questions in his robots, as several of them turned to look at him for a beat longer than necessary before going about their assigned tasks.

Presently, Julia returned, toting the Ionizer. She met Mechanus’s eye and slowed to a halt, conflicting emotions warring for dominance on her face. Fear, anger, worry, determination—all of these made brief appearances before she set her expression in something close to clinical neutrality.

“How’s your arm?” she asked, sounding a bit hoarse.

He glanced down at his bare arm with its wide section of bandages. “It hurts like thunder,” he admitted, “But I think I can manage.”

She nodded slowly. “I think I may have located Arthur’s kernel. You said you needed that to start rebuilding him, right?”

“I did,” he ventured, but before he could inquire further her gaze sharpened.

“When were you planning on telling me that Jim was still mentally intact?” she demanded.

“I—
what
?” he choked out, too shocked by the lack of segue for a more coherent response.

“You heard me.” Her face was set in a steely expression that he had never seen before.

For a few frantic seconds, words utterly failed him. How could she possibly have found out? He hadn’t told her, and Jim certainly didn’t seem communicative on that account, so—

Of
course
. She was smart enough to have worked it out on her own, given enough evidence.

“I likely would have told you at about the same time you planned to tell me that Arthur had threatened to kill you,” he returned.

The color drained from her face. “How did you—?” she started to ask, but broke off, glancing away from him.

“I saw part of your conversation with Arthur over the network,” he said.

She flushed, but scowled at him. “How long have you been awake, then?” she asked.

“Since about ten minutes before you left to find Arthur,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened as she worked this out. “But... I thought you were—why didn’t you say anything?”

He took a deep breath. “Because I thought if I did you would stop washing my arm.” It sounded strange, even through his own ears, but there it was.

Her face went from pink to bright red. “Oh God. I... you... dammit, Alistair!”

The process of watching her barrel headlong through at least three emotions in six words was really quite a sight to behold, though he wished she hadn’t decided to settle  on anger. He opened his

mouth to reply, but she barreled on in a torrent of what must have been very long-restrained emotions.

“You scared me half to death with that stunt out in the hallway!” she shouted, advancing on him. “You could have been killed! And I had no idea how to fix the damage to your face, and—what were you
thinking
? With Arthur gone, and you disoriented, and Jim on the rampage, and...” She stopped short, shaking her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. By now she was close enough to him that she rested her head and hands against his chest, leaning against him slightly. “Dammit, I don’t know whether to hit you or hug you right now.”

Mechanus rocked back on his heels slightly under the onslaught and, out of reflex, rested his hands on her shoulders as she leaned against him. He wasn’t sure how or if he ought to comfort her. “I...” he started, but couldn’t immediately think of a coherent way to finish his sentence. He cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth,” he tried again, “I would prefer the latter.”

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

He took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “By the time it became relevant,” he said carefully, “It was already too late.”

She stepped back and out of his grasp, staring at him hard for several very long moments. “...
relevant?
” she echoed incredulously.