"I'm looking for some friends of mine."

He squealed. Just like that. No fuss. Fortunate, since I didn't have time to break bones and slap him around. According to my new friend, the Bleakers were being held in this very facility. He could've been lying, but I estimated he was too scared to be that clever. I didn't feel like dragging him along as insurance because he'd slow me down and when the heat came, and it would come soon, I doubted he'd survive.

"Here." He pointed to a room on a map. "They're holding them there."

"Where are we now?" I asked.

He pointed to another room. My brain already started plotting a course, as well as several alternates based on levels of resistance I might encounter.

The doors slid open and in charged five security guards bedecked in body armor and carrying more blaster rifles. They didn't bother telling me to freeze or anything. They just let me have it.

My friend was stupid enough to make a run for it. Directly in the line of fire. They blew several holes through him without hesitation, and the energy discharge began to heat up my cha.s.sis. Might've done something if I'd stood around long enough, but that wasn't my plan. I could've taken these goons out, but that wasn't the plan either. I turned and tore my way through the opposite wall. Took three seconds to punch through, and they kept pouring the heat on my back. It wasn't a problem yet, and if these were the biggest guns these guys had it wouldn't be.

The adjoining room was full of computers, and I tore my way through that one too. And the next. And the next. I was more interested in reaching my destination than recording the experience, but one room caught my attention. It was filled with biologicals, and many matched up with my alien theory. One, in particular, looked like a giant weed. There were no sentient plant mutations among Empire's citizenry.

I wondered how many aliens were in this facility, if there were more facilities like this, and how long these extraterrestrial visitors had been carrying out their sinister doings. This wasn't a makeshift operation. This had been here awhile.

My plotted course was a direct path with random deviations to avoid larger rooms and keep security off-balance. Still, the walls were thick enough to slow me down and as I pushed my way through the complex, I found myself surrounded by an ever-increasing number of security personnel. I continued to ignore them, as taking the time to knock them aside would be counterproductive. Any guards I would've taken out would've been replaced. This wasn't a combat mission anyway. It was a search directive.

The endless barrage of blasters started to heat up my cha.s.sis. My inflammable suit proved fireproof all right. Instead of burning, it started melting. My paint job began to fleck, and I was glowing soft orange. My cooling system coped, and my internals were unaffected. These jokers couldn't stop me. Nothing could once I got going.

I ripped my way through another wall into a large room. The kind I'd been avoiding but didn't this time because that's what they would've expected. The guards didn't follow. That meant either they'd wised up on the futility of their efforts, or dangerous countermeasures were on the way.

My single-minded nature meant it took a lot to surprise me once I set a directive. In this new room though, I skipped a beat. It was a small moment, barely noticeable outside an atomic clock. The new room was for storage. And it was storing robots. Robots that looked exactly like me.

There weren't supposed to be any other robots like me.

But there they were, fourteen shiny gold Mack Megatons, inactively lined up along the walls. These must've been the ravagers the orange jumpsuit had mistaken me for. Something wasn't square, but I didn't have time for a mystery. Like I said, once I set a directive, I stick to it. I filed away any questions about this turn of events and kept on my way.

The robots activated. Every single one of them. One grabbed me by the right arm. Another seized me by the neck. The rest closed in. This was going to be trouble.

With my free arm I laid a right cross into an approaching robot's faceplate. His head snapped back and his neck joint popped. Fractures in his cha.s.sis meant I'd done some damage. These machines were tough, but not as thick-alloyed as me. It pushed my survival odds up from 62 percent to 64. In a situation like this, I'd take every percentage point I could get.

I hammered the same robot again. His head still didn't fall off, though it tilted at an ugly angle. Must've screwed up a sensory connection, too, because he tackled one of his brothers by mistake.

I gave the robot clinging to my arm a hard smack. One, two, three blows were enough to knock off his cranial unit. If he was anything like me though, his brain was in his gut and all I did was knock out his primary sensors. He didn't need to scan or hear me to know he still had a firm grip on me.

d.a.m.n, I'd never realized how much a pain in the a.s.s robots could be.

Then they were all on top of me, a pile of pounding metal. I fell face first, and they hammered my back. My cha.s.sis was a match for the beating, but my servos weren't up to pushing these guys off of me. I was pinned. Nine seconds ticked by with only the sound of metal hitting metal echoing in the room. I didn't have time for this, so I did the only thing I could.

I exceeded recommended operational limits, ordered my servos to 140 percent, and pushed. It was enough strength to throw off my opponents and get me to my feet again. It also drained sixteen minutes' worth of juice from my battery in two seconds and damaged my right shoulder actuator. I never used that shoulder anyway.

I kept pushing. It was the only way to take out these second-rate imitations. It would strain my internals, and the excessive power drain was going to be trouble in the long run. I couldn't afford to let up.

I unleashed a jackhammer jab into the nearest robot, right where I hoped his most important and vulnerable systems might be, if my own specs were any indication. It crushed his gut and must've done something because he staggered and fell over. Twitching and squirming, he struggled to right himself, but couldn't get the job done.

My arm diagnostic reported several microscopic stress fractures and advised returning to compliant function levels. I ignored it. It didn't like that and started pinging in my audios and flashing a warning across the bottom of my optical readout.

Another two robots tried immobilizing my arms. I threw my limbs together and smashed their craniums into each other hard enough to knock them loose. I finished the job and bashed in their heads with a hammer strike. Without sensors and more likely to hurt their fellows than me, they did the smart thing and shut down. Had to love cold machine logic.

My remaining opponents circled around again. They weren't intimidated. They were stupid, relentless autos. Relentless, I could respect. Stupid, I could envy. But my battle a.n.a.lyzer told me that this fight was a foregone conclusion. Because I was willing to do whatever it took to win, including risking my own continued functioning.

My a.n.a.lyzer estimated that my inevitable victory should take fifty-six seconds with a 13 percent overall functionality loss. I don't mean to brag, but I disa.s.sembled my opponents with seven whole seconds to spare. I could describe every punch and kick, every metal-crushing deployment of blunt force. But like I said, it was a foregone conclusion. Of course, I also had a list of minor internal damage. Nothing serious individually, but it added up to a 14 percent impairment.

The most annoying thing was that I was surrounded by mounds of spare parts and I didn't have time to collect them.

I didn't take time to enjoy my win. I pushed on, slowed down by a blown right ankle actuator and a sticking shoulder that threw off my balance. I wasn't a particularly fast bot to begin with, but I was determined. And if I'd lost a leg, I would've hopped the rest of the way.

The alarms kept blaring, but there was no further resistance. I punched my way through five more walls and didn't see another biological. Only a few flying observation drones, and all of them kept a healthy distance. They'd evacuated this section. Might've moved Julie and the kids, too. But there was nothing to do but press on. I tore open one last door with my difference engine reporting zero expectations.

Julie and April huddled together in the corner. Jules looked terrified. For seven minutes now, all she must've been hearing were shrieking alarms, panicked running, blaster fire, and smashing. Lots of smashing.

But April was smiling.

"See, Mom," she said. "I told you he'd find us."

A swarm of spherical security drones shot into the room. They circled all around, buzzing and humming dangerously. There were more in the hall. Too many to count.

A voice came over the loudspeaker. Vaguely British, but not quite.

"Mr. Megaton, now that you have found what you were looking for, I a.s.sume you'll stop destroying our facility. However, if you need further persuasion, I would like to point out that each of these drones is armed with a self-destruct device. The charge isn't strong enough to inflict significant damage to you, but I a.s.sure you the woman and the child would not be so fortunate. I needn't point out the futility of attempting to shield them from the blast, but I guess I have done that just now, haven't I?"

"And what do you offer me if I stand down?" I asked.

"Nothing other than the continued existence of these two souls you've worked so hard to find. It's a very generous offer, Mr. Megaton, as there's no reason to concern myself with their existence save certain inconveniences of squeamish morality imposed upon me by my superiors."

There was something about the way he said "morality" that made it sound like a dirty word. He wasn't bluffing.

April was at my side. My cha.s.sis was still a little on the warm side, and she was smart enough not to touch me.

"So now that I found you, kid," I asked, "what do I do now?"

"That's easy, silly," she replied.

Her eyes were clairvoyant purple again.

"You give up."

14.

Surrender was counter to my core programming, and the very idea sent a nervous twitch through my servos. I did the only logical thing, because I was here to rescue the Bleakers, not get them blown to h.e.l.l.

Things might've been different had I been designed properly, but I was a weapon. Search-and-rescue was not my intent. I was made for blasting and stomping my way across a battlefield. The avoidance of casualties wasn't part of the plan. If I'd been true to my original programming, I'd have crushed Julie and April without even making a file of it. But if I'd been true to my original programming, I wouldn't have been here in the first place.

Most of the security drones withdrew. Four remained hovering around Julie and April. They hummed at five extra decibels to remind me they were there. A complement of six security personnel surrounded us, mostly for show since it was the orbs that held me in check.

A thin biological in a suit and silver cape stood in the doorway since there wasn't room for all of us. He spoke, and his voice was that vaguely British-but-not-quite that'd come out of that loudspeaker.

"Ah, Mister Megaton."

"You're human," I said.

"Am I?"

Grinning, his skin shifted from a pale pink to a bright purple. His blond hair became a shade of red that threatened to burn out my opticals. His eyes filled with black and when he blinked, his lids closed vertically.

"Some of us are better at blending in than others." He shifted back to his human pigmentation. "They call me Warner. Not my original name, of course, but we've all taken terrestrial labels to ease our a.s.similation."

"So you are aliens then," I said.

"I guess that would be obvious, even to a simple machine such as yourself. Yes, circ.u.mstances have forced us to make this our home. We only do what we must to ensure our continued survival."

"Including kidnapping children."

"Oh, please, Megaton. We've hurt no one unless absolutely necessary."

"Gavin Bleaker," I said. "Was it necessary to cave in his skull?"

Julie gasped.

d.a.m.n. Julie shouldn't have found out that way. Couldn't take it back now. Sometimes even my vocalizer could get ahead of my sophisticated electronic brain. "I'm sorry, Jules."

She stifled a sob. Gavin had been a louse, and she would be better off without him. It didn't change the fact that it was a hard thing to absorb, made worse by the situation. She didn't need any more troubles.

"Mr. Bleaker's disposal was deemed a necessity." Warner frowned, but he didn't look like he meant it. "I can a.s.sure you, we do only what is best for our continued survival and a.s.similation."

I didn't like the sound of that.

Warner and his cronies escorted us down a series of hallways. Julie and April were kept in tow to convince me to behave myself.

"Mack, what's wrong with your leg?" asked Julie.

"It's nothing, Jules."

I'd blown my left ankle actuator stomping one of my more stubborn duplicates to sc.r.a.p, and it had left me with a limp. Of course, there were plenty of other minor system failures going on, most of which weren't visible from the outside. All together, it was nothing function-threatening, but it was bad news for any possible escape attempts.

Warner led us to a lab. It was a big operation, full of scurrying scientists. There were several robots at work, too. Six a.s.sistant drones, another of my auto duplicate models, and one robot with eight legs and a thin humanoid torso. His head was a basketball with four red opticals and a pair of long crackling antennae atop it.

Holt was here, too.

"Oh my G.o.d," Julie gasped tearfully. "What did you do to him?"

The poor kid was suspended in a countergravity field. He didn't appear to be conscious, thankfully, because there were tubes running in and out of his body as various chemicals were being pumped into him and others drawn out.

"You sons of-"

I took a step toward Warner.

"Temper, temper, Mack."

The orbs around Julie and April squealed, and the security guards all leveled their rifles. Not at me, of course.

I could've killed Warner easy. One punch could've taken his head right off. I didn't for two reasons. One was Julie and April. The other: Warner didn't deserve a quick kill. No, when his time came, I'd wipe that smug grin off his face one tooth at a time.

I stood down, but I was getting awfully sick of it.

"Your concern is understandable, Mrs. Bleaker, but quite unwarranted. Any damage your son has sustained is not life threatening."

"Damage?" She struggled with rage and fear, wiping the tears from her cheeks and snarling. "What kind of people are you?"

"You might call us visitors," he said. "But that would be mistaken. We're not just popping in for a holiday. No, we're here to stay. Instead, we've taken to calling ourselves Pilgrims, and this is our new home. And your son is instrumental to our plans. So you see, as much as you care for him, you can understand how infinitely more valuable he is to us."

The spider robot clomped its way over to us. "What is the meaning of this, Warner? You should not have brought them here."

"Oh, let them see, Doctor Zarg. They've the right, seeing as how this is the boy's family and Megaton has gone to such trouble to be here."

"You're getting careless."

"And you worry too much. Every step of our a.s.similation has gone exactly as planned."

Zarg emitted a harsh screech. "Enough, Warner. Your casual blathering is inadvisable. I will take this up with the Alpha Congress."

Warner's ever-present smirk faded, replaced by a cold stare. "Do what you feel is right, Doctor. Soon none of this will matter."

I didn't like the sound of that. Words like "a.s.similation" and "necessary disposal" put me on edge. I should've smashed this place to bits, torn it down bolt by bolt even if I was sc.r.a.pped in the process. I would've, too. Except I wasn't sure how much it would accomplish. If I successfully brought the roof crashing down, there was no possibility Julie, April, and Holt would survive. They were only one family. Their welfare weighed against the well-being of the rest of humanity was a mathematical no-contest. Every logic dictate told me to eliminate the Bleakers from calculated variables. They didn't matter.

I told my dictates to shut the h.e.l.l up, and let me deal with this situation. They complied. They weren't happy about it, and the words INADVISABLE ACTION flashed across my optical readout.

"It'll be all right," I told Julie and April, but I couldn't counter my logic lattice enough to believe it. And I was a terrible liar.

Julie was doing her best to stifle her sobs, but she nodded.

April was holding up better than her mom. Knowing the future, even if only little bits of it, must've been enough to comfort her. I kept hoping she'd smile at me, letting me know she'd seen how we got out of this. Honestly, she looked a little worried. I optimistically attributed that to a glitch in my expression a.n.a.lyzer.

Warner gestured toward a countergrav plate beside Holt. "Please step this way."

In zero gravity, all my impressive artificial muscle would be useless.

Warner cleared his throat. One of his guards handed him a raygun. Warner seized April by the hair and put the gun to her head. She didn't cry, didn't utter a peep.

I pushed killing Warner up to third on my directives list. Right after getting myself free and getting the Bleakers out of here alive.