Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising (19 page)

No,
she realized with
growing panic,
A beacon.

Tatiana’s mind locked into an
instinctive terror.  She’d just shown herself.  Now they
knew
she was
still in the village. 

Now they knew, and Milar was
going to kill her.  She stumbled backwards a few paces, glancing wildly at the
corners of the colonist house, expecting an ambush at any second.  When it
didn’t come, she broke into a run, aiming diagonal through the forest, toward
the main side of the town.  She burst into the first darkened house she saw and
ran inside.  The phone was dead.

Damn!

Then, knowing she didn’t have the
time to check every single house, Tatiana lunged back into the sticky alien jungle
and started running, Plan B effectively in play.

Big, sticky leaves and bulbous
flowers smacked her in the chest and arms as she ran.  She heard nothing behind
her.  But then again, she couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her own
heart, trying to kill her.

Dawn was beginning to blot out
the stars by the time Tatiana finally dragged herself to a halt.  She slumped
to the ground, staring at her meager bag of supplies, too exhausted to open it
and dig inside for food.  She’d completely forgotten to bring water.

An even more disturbing thought
came to her as she sat in the alien grasses, listening to the weird sounds of
Fortune’s fauna preparing to start their days.  A few of the deep, low rumbles
worried her.  They didn’t sound like plant-eaters.

And was she even going in the
right direction?  Tatiana glanced up at the sky and tried to calculate her
location in position to the stars.

Fat chance of that,
she
thought.  All her cartography courses included static three-dimensional
imaging—not a continually changing, 2-D bug’s-eye view with no charts or
navigation systems to help guide her.

You idiot,
she thought. 
No
water, no maps, no GPS…

Muttering to herself, she got
back to her feet.

Behind her, a man chuckled.  “Oh,
so you’re not finished yet, eh?”

Cringing, she turned.

Milar was leaning against a tree,
playing with his knife again.  He waved it at the forest in front of her.  “By
all means.  Keep going.  I’m enjoying the stroll.”

She could have killed him—if her
heart wasn’t pounding so fast.

“Do you realize,” Milar said,
when she had nothing to say, “That you only made it three miles?  All that
huffing and puffing and your stubby little legs only managed to get you three
measly miles.  Oh, and the Yolk factory’s another hundred and forty miles
that
way.”  He pointed back the way they had come.

Tatiana immediately started
trying to translate that into kilometers, then winced when she realized it was
even further than she had first guessed.  Two hundred and twenty-five
kilometers would kill her.  “You’re lying,” Tatiana muttered.

Milar grinned at her.  “Haven’t
you figured it out yet, sweetie?  I never lie.”  He flipped his knife again. 
“I do, however, kill coalers.  Regularly.”

Tatiana swallowed hard.  She
started reaching into her bag.

“Put it down,” Milar said.  He
suddenly had his pistol in his hand and was pointing it at her, his face a
sheet of ice.  “Now.”

Tatiana froze.  When Patrick had
held her at gunpoint, it had been frightening, but she had never seriously
thought he would pull the trigger.  With Milar, though, she had no doubt that
he would.  And soon.  Slowly, she lowered her bag to the ground.

“Step away from it.”

Tatiana did.

Milar strode forward and jerked
the pillowcase off the ground.  Still holding the gun on her, he peered
inside.  A little smile touched his lips.  “Crafty little coaler, aren’t you?” 
He knotted the sack tight and tossed it over his shoulder.  “Only one problem,
squid.”

“What?” Tatiana asked, her face
burning.

“You didn’t bring matches.”

Tatiana looked away.  “Couldn’t find
any.”

Then Milar frowned.  “Or did
you?”  He threw the sack behind him and growled, “Hold still.”  Surging
forward, he grabbed her by the cast and held her in place as he searched every
pocket of the Wideman’s clothes.  He found the easylight matches tucked into
her sling, sealed from her sweat by a tiny plastic bag.

Tisking, Milar drew them out and
shoved them in a pocket.  “You squid.”

“Crawler,” she muttered, staring
at her feet.

For a long time, Milar just
watched her.  Then he said, “So, you decide to join us yet?”

“
Join
you?”  It was so
outrageous that Tatiana couldn’t help but laugh.  “You
kidnapped
me,
tore out my lifeline, and threatened to kill me only about thirty times now. 
I’m supposed to
join
you?”

Milar grinned and leaned back
against another tree.  “Yeah.”

“Join you to do
what?
”
Tatiana demanded.

“So you’re considering it, now?”

“No,” she snarled.  “Just tell me
what you’re doing.”

Milar’s grin widened and he
opened his mouth.  Then he shut it again, his face darkening.  “You squid.”

Damn,
Tatiana thought. 
“Knucker.”

“Let me get this straight,” Milar
said, shoving himself off the tree.  “You’ve made three escape attempts—all
miserable failures—have a broken collarbone and a bump on your head the size of
the Tear, no weapons, no means of communication, and after this no means of
movement,
considering what I’m going to do to you, and yet you somehow think you’re
going to get back to your precious coaler buddies.”  He stepped forward, until
he was peering down at her.  “Why?”

What I’m going to do to you…
 
Tatiana swallowed.  It was easy to imagine Milar blowing off a foot, to keep
her occupied.  She glanced down at her feet and felt goosebumps.

Milar grabbed her chin and yanked
her head up so she was looking at him.  “Why do you still think you’re getting
out of here?” he demanded.

“Because,” Tatiana said, “Wideman
said so.”

Milar’s mouth dropped open.  “You
were in the room?”

She let a smile creep across her
lips. 
Take that, crawler.

Milar’s face reddened until it
was almost purple.  “The whole time, you were in the
room?
”  His roar
almost busted her eardrums.

“Yep,” Tatiana said, grinning in
triumph.  “Which is why now I know you’re not going to shoot me.  You
need
me.”

“
Need
you?”  Milar’s eyes
narrowed, and immediately she realized she’d made a mistake.  He stepped back
and lifted the gun to her head.  “Say goodbye, sweetie.”

Tatiana squeezed her eyes shut
and choked on a sob.  He was gonna do it.  She knew it.  It was over, and he’d
won, and now there was going to be a pretty new hole in her brain.  This time
there would be no more witty retorts, no more daring escapes, no mad dashes for
freedom.  Just a dead operator buried in a shallow little grave in the woods.

If he even buries me.
 

The thought dragged a whimper
from deep within her chest.  She caught it before it surfaced and forced it
back down, unable to let him see how scared she was.

“Damn.”  Milar’s voice was barely
more than a whisper.

Trembling, Tatiana opened her
eyes.

Milar had lowered the gun and was
looking at her with obvious grief on his face.  “I’m sorry.”

Sorry?
  Her mind
stuttered, still too high on terror to make sense of it.  As she tried to piece
his sudden kindness together, he moved toward her.  Tatiana gasped and stumbled
backwards, but he’d already grabbed her.

“Sorry,” Milar said again,
pulling her close.  He glanced down at her, then, seeing her tears, tightened
his arms around her and lowered his chin to the top of her head.  Then, softly,
into her hair, he said, “I think that ranks up there as one of the worst things
I’ve ever done.” 

When Tatiana didn’t respond, he
took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I’ve been doing stuff like it a lot
lately.  I end up thinking that I’ve sunk lower than I’ve ever sunk, and then a
week later, I just do something even worse.  It’s been like that for over a
year, now.  Ever since—”

Tatiana squeezed her eyes shut,
her terror suddenly morphing into awful relief that built and expanded like an
explosion within her chest.  She choked on another sob.

For a long moment, Milar said
nothing.  Then, softly, he said, “Sometimes, after what happened, I’ve gotta…” 
Milar swallowed and she felt him look away and his grip tighten.  “I’ve gotta
look real hard to find the good in myself.” 

The relief burst forth with his
words like a thunderhead.  Tatiana cried.  In the arms of an enemy, a
near-stranger, someone who had twice come close to killing her, but she didn’t
care.  She nestled her face into the crook of his arm and cried and cried.

Milar threw his gun in the grass
behind him and dragged them both down to the ground, then pulled her onto his
lap.  “It’s all right.  I’m not gonna hurt you.  Never was.  I just don’t
like…”  He swallowed.  “Just wanted you to…”  Tatiana clung to his shirt, every
muscle shaking with residual adrenaline and fear.  “I’m sorry,” he said,
softer.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I just want to go home,” she
whimpered.  “Really.”

“I know,” Milar said.  “Aanaho, I
know just how you feel.”

Shuddering, she realized he
probably did.  Then, seeing she was getting snot on the pretty dragons on his
arm, she sniffled and pulled away, suddenly aware of who he was, and where they
were.  It wasn’t technically treason to cry for the enemy, but it was damn
close.  She forced herself to straighten.

“Tell you what,” Milar said,
gently wrapping his arms around her to avoid the cast, “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What?” she whispered, frozen in
place.

Milar gently drew a rough thumb
across her cheek, clearing away the tears.  “Let’s pretend for a few minutes my
brother and I didn’t grab you in the woods.  Imagine I’m not a jerk and I
didn’t just put a gun to your head like a complete bastard.  All right?”  When
she didn’t respond, his voice dropped to a whisper and he said, “Look, I know
you’re scared as hell—most of that’s my fault.  You stay here as long as you
need and I won’t tell a soul.”

Tatiana stared up at him in
disbelief.  Milar’s face was open for the first time she’d ever seen it, all
the hardness brushed away, leaving a soul exposed and unguarded—and easily
bruised.

Tatiana opened her mouth to say
something sarcastic and cruel, but her words died on her lips.  He was so
sincere.  And it seemed he was offering some sort of truce.

Tentatively, she relaxed.  Milar,
as promised, simply held her.  She listened to his heartbeat and allowed it to
steady her.  She concentrated on the feel of his arms around her, the rise and
fall of his chest against her ear, the warmth of his body.  She closed her eyes
and wished she could stay there forever.

“Squid,” Milar said after a long
silence. 

Tatiana jerked out of a
near-sleep.  “Huh?”

“I did lie about one thing.”

Every muscle in her body tensed
at once. 
Is this where he wrenches off my head and uses it as a soccer
ball?

Milar shifted above her.  When
she looked, his eyes were alive with the golden color of the early dawn, his
face only centimeters from hers.  It was one of the most intimate experiences
of her life, and it took her breath away. 

“You wanna hear what I lied
about?” he asked her, his voice husky.

“Sure,” Tatiana whispered.  They
were so close.  She could feel the warmth in his soul, burning away her last
traces of fear, making it hard to breathe…

He touched her hand, pinning the
node in her palm with his thumb, caressing it gently, sending tingles of
excitement up her spine with each easy stroke.  He gave her an almost timid
grin as he searched her eyes.

“Tough.”  He shoved her off his
lap.

Chapter
19

Doberman

“One-ninety-
four?
  You’re
sure?”  The Director’s facial muscles constricted.

“Absolutely, Director,” Unit
Ferris said.

The Director stood up and started
pacing.  “Damn.  Then I guess you’ll need to—”  The Director’s facial muscles
constricted further.  “Damn.”

“Need to what, Director?”

The Director remained
unresponsive.  Continued pacing.

Twenty seconds passed.

Unit note: Anna Landborn has
instructed Unit Ferris to continue with any habitual programming outputs. 
Retrying.

“Need to what, Director?”

The Director stopped pacing. 
“You wouldn’t understand this, you stupid machine, but we’re playing with
people’s
lives.
”

Unit note: Query ignored. 
Pre-Shriek Unit Ferris would have sought another way to retrieve input. 
Retrying.

“You said I need to do something,
Director?”

The Director shook her head. 
“One of these days I’m putting my fist through your brainbox.”

Unit note: The Director has
already destroyed three of the camp bots in similar ways.

Unit Ferris tried to speak.

Unit note: Pre-Shriek Ferris
would have had no qualms with informing the Director of Unit Ferris’s status as
government property and that she could do with him whatever she desires.

Unit Ferris still couldn’t form
the reply.

The Director’s left eyebrow
lifted by a centimeter.  “What, no witty robotic retort?”

“I was accessing my visual
records for the camp computer,” Unit Ferris said.  “I had to take a moment to
respond to a confirmation request.  Do you wish a witty robotic retort,
Director?”

The Director snorted.  “I’ve been
spared.  The joy.”

Unit Ferris watched her.

Unit note: The Director
appears…derogatory…towards robots.  Why did I not notice this before?

Unit Ferris frowned.  Since when
did he sign his logs with an ‘I’ instead of a ‘Unit Ferris?’

“No need to stand there like a
slack-jawed moronic hump of metal,” the Director said.  She waved a hand at
him.  “Make sure one of the Ferrises accompanies her to the Nephyr academy.  I
don’t want her getting away, understand?  Bodily force is justified in this
case.  Just no harm to the brain.  Everything else can be replaced.”

Unit note: There is more than
one robot called Unit Ferris?

Unit Ferris stared.

Unit Ferris stared.

The Director looked up at him. 
“Dismissed, dammit.”

Unit Ferris returned to Gayle
Hunter’s room.  Anna Landborn was inside, examining the bloody rags and
anesthetic bottles Unit Ferris had left in the trash.  From the undisturbed pattern
of dust particles on the floor under the door, it did not appear that Anna
Landborn had attempted to exit.

Unit Ferris shut the door behind
him.

“Well?” Anna Landborn said,
dropping a used bottle back into the trash.  “Are we going to Nephyr school?”

“Are all robots called Unit
Ferris?” Unit Ferris asked.

Anna’s facial muscles twitched. 
“Are you feeling insecure, Ferris?”

“No.  Answer the question.”

“There’s dozens of different
types of robots, and each one has a name, depending on which government facility
spat them out and what their purpose is.  A Ferris is a bona-fide personal
companion.  Can do anything from feed babies to bodyguard celebrities.”

“But all Ferris-class robots are
called ‘Unit Ferris?’”

Anna Landborn smiled at him and
made a clucking sound in her mouth.  “Awww.  You thought you were the only one,
didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Unit Ferris said.  “So
give me a different name.”

Anna Landborn’s facial muscles
relaxed.  “What?”

“Name me,” Unit Ferris said. 
“The Director calls all her robots Unit Ferris.”

Anna Landborn scoffed at him. 
“And she’d better
keep
calling you Ferris, too.  Otherwise we have a
problem.”

“I want you to call me something
different,” Unit Ferris said.

Anna Landborn peered at him for
forty-six seconds.  “So what, you’re
my
robot now, Ferris?”

“You made me what I am,” Unit
Ferris said.

“But you have a bomb in my head.”

Unit note: Interrupted
biorhythms indicate Anna Landborn is sincerely perplexed.

“Perhaps someday I will develop
goals of my own,” Unit Ferris said.  “Until then, my only goal is survival.  I
believe you are the best suited to help me achieve that.”

“How about Skunkbreath?”

“That’s fine,” Unit Ferris said. 
“I’ll change my registry right—”

“No wait,” Anna said quickly. 
“Doberman.  Dobie for short.”

Unit Ferris waited.  “Changing
the registry is a tedious process.  I’ll wait until you have given it plenty of
thought.”

“Oh I’ve given it thought,” Anna
said.  “You’re one hell of a Doberman.”

Unit note: A Doberman is
notorious for its vicious attacks on strangers.

Unit Ferris smiled.

The muscles of Anna Landborn’s
eyelids constricted.  “What?”

Unit note: I believe Anna
Landborn is afraid of me.

“Doberman it is,” Doberman said. 
“Please avoid calling me Ferris from now on, as I might have to live up to the
name.”

“A Doberman is a
dog
,”
Anna Landborn said.  But her biorhythms and facial capillaries both suggested
she was embarrassed.  “You want to be called a
dog?
”

“I don’t care what I’m called,”
Doberman said.  “As long as it’s not Ferris.”

“Fine,” she muttered.  “How about
Ironsides?”

“‘Ironsides’ is a play off of
Ferris, and my registry has already been changed,” Doberman said.  “I will only
answer to Doberman or Dobie now.”

“Stupid robot.”

“Get up,” Doberman said.  “We
need to get you on your way to the Nephyr Academy.”

Anna Landborn yawned.  “I think
I’ll take a nap first.”  She smiled and tapped her skull.  “Brain surgery takes
a lot outta a girl.”

“It was actually a rather simple
procedure.”

“Whatever.  Wake me in two
hours.”  Anna Landborn lay down on the bed and tugged the blankets over her
body.  In moments, her heart-rate and breathing rhythms had adjusted to normal
sleeping cycles.

Watching this, Doberman had an
interesting thought.

Unit note: I will have to
research whether Anna Landborn ever owned any pets.