Unknown - The_Growing_589064

Too easy, Jackson thinks as he grabs his weapon. Exiting the truck, he places himself between his President and the android, taking no chances. Kirsten notices the move, but says nothing, satisfied for the moment that at least he’s not trying to ventilate their temporary ally.

They make their way up the rocky, vine-covered ridge until their heads are just below the lip. Max stops them there. “If you take care to keep hidden, you will be able to see the units just ahead.”

Jackson takes the lead, and peers over the very edge of the ravine. When his eyes clear the lip, he can see the westering sun glinting off of the plastic and metal casings of the androids. Kirsten quickly scrambles up beside him and likewise looks over the top. “Any idea what they’re doing?” she asks Max who hunkers down beside her—if, in fact, an android can ‘hunker’.

“I am not programmed to read their transmissions. However, from what I can interpret, they appear to be awaiting reinforcements.”

“And they haven’t spotted us.”

“Not that I can detect.”

“Ok then. You know what to do.”

“Affirmative.”

Kirsten finds herself not quite knowing what to say. The android isn’t human, and members of his kind have killed millions, if not billions, and enslaved millions more, subjecting them to rape and god knew what other tortures. And yet…and yet…she can’t help, if not liking, at least appreciating the polite, soft spoken being that looks so human even she herself can’t tell the difference easily.

Having no need for such pleasantries, he gives them both an android’s approximation (a very good approximation, if the truth be known) of a smile, and without further words, hops easily to the top of the ridge and strides off in the direction of his kindred.

Jackson sidles over closer, looking her and not quite able to hide the ‘I think you might have a screw loose somewhere’ expression on his face. Kirsten doesn’t really blame him, since his knowledge of this plan encompasses the words “trust me”, and nothing else. She sighs quietly. “Ask away, Lieutenant.”

“Why are we letting an enemy, who knows where we are, go off to a whole group of other enemies so he can bring them back here and kill our asses? Ma’am?”

“Darius, I know you’ve been very patient with me, and I appreciate it, believe me.”

Jackson nods.

“But…in some cases, seeing something is much better than hearing about it. So I’ll ask you one last time to trust me, if you can.”

Taking his eyes off of the retreating android, he gazes at her for a very long moment, jaw working silently. “Alright,” he says finally. “We’ll do it your way, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.” A beat. “And Darius?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“If they do start heading back this way….”

“Yes?”

“Run.”

His hands go white knuckled on his weapon as he once again peers in the direction of the android group, very shortly to be increased by one.

As both watch, Max is scanned, and then accepted into the group, much to Kirsten’s silent relief. It is only now that she wishes she’d thought far ahead enough to have attached a transceiver onto the droid so they could get back some information before his task was completed. No use crying over fried circuits, she thinks as she begins a silent countdown in her head.

At ‘one’, she ducks down, grabbing Jackson by the shoulder and pulling him with her.

A loud, sharp cough-like sound rockets through the cool, still air, followed by the great whoosh of an explosion. Heedless of the possible danger, Jackson shakes loose from Kirsten’s grip and pops his head up to see a giant plume of fire rush up from where the droid group used to stand.

“Holy FUCK!” he shouts. “What just happened?!?”

“Max,” Kirsten retorts, quite unable to keep the smug expression from stealing over her face.

“Max? Your android…did that?!? But how?”

“He’s what we’re calling a ‘suicide bomber droid’. Big government secret. One of those guys hit a convoy and did a good bit of damage to it, but we were able to gather up some of the remaining parts, and viola! I simply changed the code from killing humans to killing androids, and there you have it. One good guy and a bunch of dead bad guys.”

Jackson slowly turns to look at her, a whole ocean’s worth of new respect shining in his light-colored eyes. “Jesus Christ, Ma’am! That was…amazing! Shit! How many more of those bad boys do you have wandering around?”

“As of now, twenty five, plus any more that they manage to make back at the plant. I changed the code for all of them.”

“So, why don’t we go back and get ‘em all now? Man, this kicks ass!”

“First off, Lieutenant, where would we put twenty five androids in this truck?”

“Hell, Ma’am! We’ll send out a damn convoy for these suckers!”

“Secondly,” Kirsten interrupts, holding up a hand as she watches the flames continue to burn, “we can’t let the regular androids who are making these new units in on the secret. If we do, obviously, no more androids for us. So, we wait as long as we can, then we send that convoy of yours back down here, and take it from there.”

Jackson looks back over at the killing field, the grin on his face a mile wide. “Whatever you say, Ma’am. Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

“WHAT?” TACOMA’S VOICE hisses with alarm. “Oh, no. Don’t you even—”

“Cover me,” Dakota says, getting to her feet and starting toward the house below. Her own rifle slants across her back; she carries the weapon captured from the sentry in full view, its curved magazine marking it as an AK. One of theirs. They will assume she has killed their man for it. Behind her, Tacoma is swearing, violently and very softly. He cannot cover her, and they both know it.

If her plan works, he will not need to.

She is ten yards from the sentry before he sees her. “Hey!” he yells, dropping the stub of his cigarette as he fumbles to being his rifle to bear. “Who’s out there? Identify yourself!”

“Dakota Rivers,” she says, moving from the shadow of one vehicle to the next, keeping their metal bulk between her and the guard. “I want to talk to your commander.”

“Yeah?” A snort. “You got an appointment? Step out here into the light, or I’ll shoot.”

He raises his rifle.

“Put that down, soldier. Go tell your captain there’s somebody to see him.”

What he does is of no consequence. His shouting will bring the others out into the open in a moment or two, and that is what she wants. His shouting, or a gunshot.

“Fuck!” he yells, and fires. The shot goes wide, clanging off the armored hide of a Humvee behind her.

Koda brings her own gun to her shoulder and squeezes the trigger gently. The guard drops onto the boards of the porch, screaming. And finally the doors of the house and barn slam open, and men pour out into the night, surrounding her. Just what she wants.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she says, and grins at them.

They are young and grubby and unshaven, most of them half-dressed in camouflage pants or shorts, most of them carrying rifles or pistols pointed at the ground rather than the intruder. Most of them green as the prairie grass that grows in a sea around their camp. One of them sidesteps his way through the parked vehicles to the side of the man doubled over on the porch. “Jem? Jem! You fuckin’ bitch, what’d you do to my brother?”

“Quiet!” The roar comes from the porch, somewhere behind the hapless Jem. An older man steps into the light, his grizzled hair buzz-cut, the planes of his face smooth and sharp in the hard light. “What’s going on here?” Gold maple leaves glint on his squre shoulders, and he holds a nine-millimeter pistol loosely in his hand, not aimed. It does not need to be.