The Game 42
Edited by Karen Leigh
Eugene woke up to something sweet and spicy, his nose was tickled by a delightful softness, buried in his lover's hair. Rodney...always Rodney. The noise from the big house sounded like the babble of a river as it tumbled seaward. He had really come to think of this as home over the last few days, but then anywhere Rodney was, that was home.
Turning around, Rodney smiled and said, "Good Morning."
"Do you forgive me?" Eugene asked, snuggling.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Rodney said, "I just got tired of everybody not respecting me and taking you away from me. I just felt so useless."
"I'm glad you threw a fit. I needed you and some sleep. Now I feel better," Eugene said.
"And it's time to get to work," Rodney said, "You know I can do something too. I'm going to interview all the clones and see what we have in common. Maybe I'll find something that can help."
"Great, I'll help you until someone needs a doctor again. Just have to check on Walter Skinner and Denis or Denise...that one who looks like me," Eugene said.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Dana could hardly fail to recognize the spark between these two; somehow, the sheer electricity of their unspoken acknowledgement of their attraction galvanized her own desire to new heights. With a little growl, she reached up both her arms to grab hold of Beau, and with her hands on his lower back reversed their positions again, rolling and taking him by surprise. Sitting astride him now, she felt her liquid center threatening a core meltdown as his more-than-ample erection prodded her left buttock. Leaning down to kiss one dusky nipple and then the other, reveling in the scent of him, she began to slowly lower herself onto his straining cock.
OH GOD - It had been so long; too long! Far too long since she'd felt this way, or had been free to partake of this purely vital experience. To let go, with abandon, and allow herself the sensual pleasure of another's body - let alone two!
She felt full, stretched, the excitement rippling through her body as she felt her vaginal walls flutter involuntarily around his hardness. She gasped, and found herself moaning open-mouthed.
Beau had a smile on his face, but it looked a little wild, a little delirious. And she could hear Matthew's intake of breath and then his breathing was growing more rapid and harsh beside them. She shot a look at him and found him watching them with riveted, dark eyes, his pupils dilated and his lower lip caught between his teeth.
Matthew was grateful that he'd rediscovered the ability to breathe, but now he couldn't control it. Dana and Beau looked incredible together. Abandoned. Free. Glorious. The adjectives just flew into his brain and the writer in him wanted to get them down on paper before he forgot what they were. A glance down at his hands revealed the impossibility of that task. They were shaking with the effort of maintaining his voyeur status.
The thought of watching these two beautiful men together sent cart wheeling images and an accompanying surge of uncontrollable lust burning through her. Throwing her head back and riding Beau with slow but hard rhythmic thrusts now, Dana felt Beau's hands sliding down her sides of her waist to grip around her hips and hold her, helping her to ride him even harder. She couldn't stop. With each thrust, the combination of the deeply penetrative sensations and the feelings of her pussy being filled more fully than she could ever remember, the capability for thought was replaced only with a fizzling, sparkling, drowning tide as she rode him harder and faster and harder until she couldn't bear not to touch that elusive but yawning peak that beckoned. Pleasure flowered in white-hot blossoms in her brain and the sound of Beau's groans seemed almost far-away, for her ears were filled with her own pounding heartbeat.
It had been too long and the sensations were too overwhelming - with a series of intermittent shrieks, she came, going quite still over him as he now moved under her, bucking upwards to plunge into her depths again and again.
OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. The look on her face when she came. The sounds she made. Beau both responding to her and demanding responses from her. Everything combined to nearly overwhelm Matthew. He knew he shouldn't watch any longer. He was so fucking hard that it hurt.
Rolling onto his stomach, Matthew fought for control. Just when he thought he'd regained some distance from their passion, Beau groaned Dana's name and the sound seemed to shoot straight from Matthew's eardrum to his cock. "Christ," he muttered, trying to think of anything but sex. Closing his eyes didn't help. His memory supplied images of the entwined couple and his own very telling reactions to both of them.
Helplessly, he opened his eyes, both waiting and dreading them regaining their composure and noticing him.
Dana was giggling into Beau's ear; as she slumped and collapsed onto him, wrapping her arms around him and enjoying the sheer luxury of simply basking in the aftermath of their pleasure. "Thank you," she breathed, with a gentle nip and suck at his earlobe. Then, with a final long, slow, languorous kiss, she disentangled from him with a single motion of her hips and slid back down to lay between the two men.
They really were quite different, despite having the same facial features, she thought. There was something so seductively smooth and rich about Beau, he was like a fine brandy... while Matthew had a subtle air of metaphysical sensuality - questioning and exploring, as if searching for something higher in every act. Beau was the hedonist, she realized... while Matthew was looking for- She stopped. She didn't really want to think about that. It struck too close to the bone, to her own long-lost idealistic early passion for her partner that she had been forced to suppress for many years. She knew better than anyone that she and Mulder were a combination that just wouldn't work. She wondered what Matthew was really thinking. It was more emotional, more psychological with him, despite his obvious enjoyment of watching them. A little frisson of worry broke into her sated afterglow.
She turned her head, glanced over at Matthew - and sucked in her breath. The poor man was now obviously quite desperate. Despite his reticence, it would be cruel to leave him in his current state. Raising one eyebrow, she cleared her throat and smiled at him. "How are you doing? You look like you enjoyed the show. Anything we can do for you?"
Matthew took a deep breath before trying to speak. Both Dana and Beau were looking at him now and the dual intensity was nearly too much. He found himself glad that he'd rolled over onto his stomach, because he already felt so exposed to their gazes. Suddenly wanting more than anything to play the cool customer he knew he wasn't. Matthew wondered what was happening to him. He wasn't into sex for the sake of sex. He wanted more than that. But he could literally feel their eyes moving over him, palpably as though they were using their hands.
He'd never been to the place where he currently was. Fighting for the parts of him that were civilized and rational. All he wanted was to fuck someone or be fucked. And that was the correct word. Not have sex. Certainly not make love. Something primal in him just wanted to fuck. Someone. Anyone. Dana. Beau. Both of them at the same time. Matthew could admit to himself that he was afraid of being this out of control.
When the look in Dana's eyes turned to concern, Matthew looked away and was caught by the amusement mixed with what looked like understanding in Beau's. Without further consideration, he blurted, "I don't know what I want. Nothing. Everything."
Helplessly, he shrugged, and to his amazement, Beau nodded as though Matthew's words had made sense to him. That gesture dragged out an admission from a very dry throat. "But if someone doesn't touch me, I think I'm going to die."
Dana grinned and chuckled, unable to help herself. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on his cheek. Somehow it was very obvious that he was not being melodramatic. "I wish we had more time," she said, sincere regret tingeing her voice. Indeed, there was the sound of feet and voices in the corridor outside their room. "You can count on me hunting you down later, if I don't get caught in the infirmary again. If I'm not mistaken, it sounds like things are getting more interesting out there."
Stretching like a cat between the two of them, she then lifted herself up and scooted down towards the bottom of the bed, crawling over the covers and Beau's leg on the way.
Fishing her panties from out of the sheets, she turned nonchalantly and declared, "It's my turn to watch, I think." Fixing a meaningful gaze at Beau, she smiled at him. "It would be so mean to just leave him like this, wouldn't you agree?"
Beau smiled distractedly at Dana's not so subtle hint. He didn't look at her, though. Nope, all he could see was Matthew - the desperate need that fairly radiated off of the man filled his senses with an almost frightening intensity.
Matthew had tensed slightly at the thought of Dana watching them, knowing he didn't have a prayer of lasting long. However, the look in Beau's eyes altered something deep inside him, allowing him to realize that he simply didn't care what anyone else thought of him at this moment in time. That was as unusual for him as it was liberating.
Damn, he wanted Matthew. More than he'd ever wanted anyone, male or female, Beau wanted Matthew. Even with a beautiful woman riding him, all he'd been able to do was feel Matthew's reaction. Taste it. Hear it.
Slowly, he moved closer to Matthew, watching the expression in his eyes closely for any signs of doubt or hesitation. Seeing neither, Beau pressed against the other man's side, head resting on one arm. Unable to resist the need to touch, he let his free hand trace the lean muscles of Matthew's back.
Being touched after watching them sent sharp signals of pleasure racing through Matthew's body. He had no hope of denying them.
Beau heard the indrawn breath, watched in fascination as heavy lashes fell, shuttering expressive green eyes, so like his own. "Matthew," he murmured softly into one ear, "tell me what you want."
Matthew reacted to the sound of Beau's voice and he couldn't respond, even if he'd known what to say.
Carefully he nibbled at the earlobe so conveniently available. "Ah won't do anything you don't want, ah promise ya - but, I sure would appreciate it if you'd give me a hint here, friend."
Hints, Matthew wondered. He wants hints. Christ!
Slowly, Matthew turned on his side, propped his own head up, facing Beau and trusted that the situation that his boxers did absolutely nothing to hide was at least a hint of a hint. Yet Beau's eyes remained fixed on his face, even though he undoubtedly could feel Matthew's interest pressing against him.
Forming words had never been more difficult. "I ... I want ..." A slight frown appeared as Matthew struggled to express himself. Without warning, the answer came to him. "I want what you want to give me." And along with the answer came the conditions. "Just ... just talk to me, Beau. Don't surprise me. Not this time. Okay?"
Well now, this was an interestin' turn. Beau stilled, unsure how to proceed. Carefully studying Matthew's words, he searched for their meaning.
His previous sex partners had been, for the most part, quite aware of his robotic nature. Miz Elinore had been completely unable to keep a secret and, therefore, most of her lady friends had in one way or another expressed their curiosity.
He'd never understood why almost all of them had expressed said curiosity sexually. Not that he minded, of course. Nope, he liked sex. He liked sex with ladies. It was nice.
Sex with men, on the other hand. That was a different thing altogether. Even the men with no knowledge at all of his non-human origins seemed to expect submissive behavior from him. Not that he'd minded that In fact, he liked it a lot. A whole lot.
But, he'd always wondered what it'd be like - to be with a man as a lover rather that as a toy.
And here was Matthew, askin' him to do that very thing.
Huh?
Somehow, Matthew knew that hearing Beau's voice wash over him would remind him that this wasn't some sick fantasy about sleeping with himself. Beau was a distinct individual and his sensual Southern drawl was a constant reminder of that -- a reminder that Matthew thought he needed.
Unsure of how his request had been received, Matthew whispered, "Beau?"
"Yeah, Matthew," Beau said in a low voice. "Ah can do that." And he could. He knew what kind of touches he liked himself - and Matthew should enjoy the same.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and tentatively smiled. This was going to be okay. Beau understood.
Raising one hand, he cupped the point of Matthew's shoulder. "Your skin is very smooth, Matthew.
Smooth skin? What the ...? Isn't that a woman thing?
"Ah do love that about a man. The feel of him. Knowin' Ah'm runnin' mah hand over all that strength. All that power covered with silk." As he spoke, Beau's fingers traced a line down Matthew's side, pausing to count each rib and investigate the tantalizing curve at his waist.
Oh, okay. He's talking about men. Juxtaposition of ... of hard and soft, strength and vulnerability. Okay. Christ that feels ... more than okay.
Flattening his hand, Beau ran his palm up the middle of Matthew's chest, stopping to rest over his heart.
"Y'know, Matthew, when mah hand is right here, your heart feels like a drum, jest beatin' away in there. But," his hand slid up to one shoulder then down the arm, "down here," his hand closed over Matthew's forearm, "Ah feel your heartbeats as pulses of heat. Imagine that... ever'where Ah touch you, Ah can feel it."
The tiny bit of Matthew's brain that was still functioning noted that he himself was more or less unaware of his own heartbeat. His ragged breathing seemed like it was associated with someone else. But the trembling that began everywhere Beau touched him. That was different. Matthew was acutely aware of the trembling and what caused it.
Beau inched closer, pressing his chest to Matthew's. "Here, against mah chest... and mah legs," Beau shifted, tangling their lower limbs together. "And, Ah can hear it, the thud of your heart, the rush of life through your veins."
Matthew whimpered at the contact, his entire body screamed for more, but nothing could drown out Beau's voice. Metaphorically, he clung to that voice even as he touched Beau's cheek with a hand that he couldn't quite will to stillness.
"And," with a sinuous twist, Beau pressed his hips against Matthew's, "Ah can feel your desire. Your response."
Moan torn from his throat, Matthew's head leaned back of its own accord and his eyes slid shut to better appreciate the sensations careening through his system.
While his fingers teasingly followed the waistband of Matthew's shorts, Beau opened his mouth against one broad shoulder. "Mmm," he hummed. "Ah want to taste you, Matthew. Ever'where."
Taste? Oh yeah. That ... yeah.
When Beau didn't move to do as he'd indicated, Matthew forced his eyes back open and saw the question in Beau's. It stunned him.
He wants hints ... and permission. Even though I'm so out of control, I can barely groan. This is too fucking good to be true. Hell, this is too fucking good period.
With the women in his life that enjoyed sex from the perspective of the seducers, loss of control on his part had been the goal. Orgasm was secondary. They'd wanted him where he was right now and would take him over the edge, getting off more on the power they had over him than the sex itself. Matthew couldn't say for sure, but he imagined that it wasn't all that different with a lot of men.
But ... but Beau seemed to want to go in another direction entirely. Matthew didn't know where that was or if he'd ever been there, but the feel of Beau's body against his was making his decision for him.
"Yeah," Matthew finally managed to pant aloud. "Please. Anywhere you want."
Something small, cold and wet pressed into his back briefly, but Matthew was too caught up in anticipation of what was about to happen to pay any attention.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Alex headed back to where he had left Mulder and Hobbes. As he went, he was considering and discarding options. He needed to get something moving as soon as he could, and David had been correct, damn him, in order to maintain contact, he would need a Mac with his party.
This was no time to worry about the possible implications of what might happen to the android outside the safety of the enclave. He would have to take his chances along with the rest of them. Still, it seemed almost sacrilege considering how few of the original 10,000 there were on hand.
He made up his mind. He'd have to ask for a volunteer Mac. He couldn't impose his will on one. He arrived at the door within which Mulder and Hobbes had been left. Would they have killed each other, he wondered, or would they be sleeping blissfully?
Pushing the door open, he saw that Mulder had woken, and that, strangely enough, Hobbes was comforting him. Well, well. Things were looking up.
Mulder's head was spinning with questions about the information that Hobbes had given him. What else did the government have its finger in, what other purposes were the implanted chips being put to? Why couldn't the problem with Harsh Realm be sorted out simply by removing Santiago from The Game, if his physical body was still here?
"I hate to do this to you guys, but the aliens have landed. A few minutes ago they started to kill off the Macs that are out in the community." He looked at Mulder, one eyebrow raised. "Do you have any sense of their arrival? What's happening inside that head of yours, Mulder?" Turning to Hobbes, he murmured, huskily. "Tom, do you feel up to relaying all your information to the guys organizing the resistance? We need to get some people together who stand a vague chance of success against Santiago and Innobotics. If you can tell them what you know, it will aid us in the piecing together of our drive against them. We need specialized help, and David will know what that consists of."
Mulder felt cold, shaking still with fatigue when Alex walked in, and only half-heard Alex's words. "Aliens? There are aliens? Fuck... I was asleep, and had one hell of a nightmare, lover. I'm not sure still that I'm awake. And I've got a god-awful headache. Fox was an asshole to give me that wine."
Alex wrapped an arm around him absently. "Aliens, babe. Just what you've always wanted,"
He frowned at Krycek, and then at Hobbes. "Santiago? But Hobbes said he was caught up in some simulation... a virtual world? And he's here? Innobotics? That's the Mac manufacturers... And the aliens are killing the Macs?" He put his face in his hands, and shook his head violently, groaning as a shard of rusty metal seemed to slice into his mind. "Well, I suppose it'll all make sense one day."
"It will make sense soon enough, Mulder. There were two weapons developed against the Alien colonization. You were one of them, and the other was the Macs. We need them as well as you before we can combat the aliens.
He sat down on the bed beside the two men, and surveyed Mulder, anxiously. "I'm sorry you haven't had much sleep, love. Think you can deal, or should we go away for a while?"
Mulder gave a reluctant snort of laughter. "Yes, please. Two weeks on a desert island. I'll snooze in a hammock, and you can wake me at regular intervals for feeding and sex, while the alien menace takes over the world. In my dreams..". He smiled at Alex, and continued, "I'll be okay. Coffee would be good, and a shower. But I guess I'll survive." He put his hand on Alex's thigh and stroked it fondly, wishing that he could simply strip him naked, curl up in bed with him, and fall asleep in his arms.
Alex could almost hear the thoughts as they rolled through Mulder's mind. I'll make it up to you some day, love. I'll find that beach for you, but for now, I have to do this. He placed his hand on top of Mulder's, and squeezed.
He took Mulder's face in his hands and gave him a lingering kiss, releasing him gently and patting the rough, unshaven cheek. Then he turned to Hobbes and kissed him too.
"Come on, guys. We're going to be without any defenses against the aliens unless we get going. Let's do it... Whatever 'it' is."
Mulder's eyes flicked between Tom and Alex, as they kissed, but he said nothing. Fox would be reveling in it, he knew... getting a hard-on at the sight, despite the tiredness of their body. Mulder simply wanted to throttle Alex, beat him to a pulp, and show him just who he belonged to. He hoped he could keep his cool. He hoped he could keep from shooting Hobbes... at least until he was rested enough to shoot straight. Fuck, Alex would love that. To drive him so insane with jealousy that he killed someone over him.
Hobbes had to keep himself from melting into Alex's kiss. As he looked at the man, he realized what he was asking of him, the same thing he had to do in Harsh Realm, organize a resistance. "The one person who will be of really good use is Pinocchio. He knows Santiago more than I do... he... used to work for him, his right hand man. I can tell you all that I know but Pinocchio is the one you should really speak to."
"How are we going to find him, Tom? Got any ideas? Last time I saw him, Spender had him" Alex took out his phone with the intention of calling Spender, and then Tom stood up decisively. "Let's get this going.... before more innocent lives are taken." Hobbes at this point didn't care that the Mac 27's were not... completely human... but they seemed human enough to him and had just as much right to be on this planet as anyone else... besides, he hated killing, especially the taking of innocent lives.
Mulder stood too, and quickly pulled Fox's t-shirt and jacket on. "Yeah. Let's do something; anything. I need some bloodshed," he muttered viciously under his breath, "green will do, at a pinch." He looked at Tom under his lashes. "But innocent would be more satisfying."
Alex dropped the phone back into his pocket, and together, they went to find One and David.
All the way to the lab where their quarry was lurking, Mulder bombarded Krycek and Hobbes with questions. He was mad as hell at the thought of all the machinations that were going on around him. Wheels within wheels, scheme upon nefarious scheme, and himself, used as a patsy by both his so-called friends, and his enemies.
At least one puzzle was unraveling. He was sure his simultaneous attraction and repulsion to the Mac27's was because they contained some material from Krycek in their brains. The Krycek clones weren't affecting him like that. He found them physically attractive, simply because they looked like his lover.
He suspected it was the lingering effect of that period when he'd heard people's thoughts. There was still occasionally a faint echo from those closest to him; Alex most of all. Nothing coherent, more feelings. Perhaps the larger, electronic part of the Mac 27 brains amplified his connection with the tiny Krycek part, enough to affect his judgment in their vicinity. There was certainly a logical abhorrence of them taking hold of him. If only they didn't have his lover's face. Krycek was saying that they'd been created as an army to fight the aliens. He didn't think he could watch his beloved slain over and over in a battle, and stay sane. That nightmare had been a premonition. Ghostly hands ran down his back, and he shuddered in dread.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
"Just asking," I-Mac said. He greeted his type-mates happily, strutting at the splendid sexiness of his catch. Sure, rock musicians could show the same delightful flouting of convention as a techno-geek, but in no way did they have that walk-into-walls abstraction that made a computer nerd reek of sex to an I-Mac. He could tell Youngblood and Wild Thing were deleting programs from pure jealousy!
"Here we are," I-Mac reported to David. "How can my lover and I help?"
David gratefully stood and gestured for the two who hopefully knew more about programming than he did to move to the space he'd vacated and gestured to the screen. "This is a program designed to restore Mac 27 units to their original configuration. We need to transfer the skill sets I have marked to the extent we can while allowing the units to maintain their individuality. I know that having similar skills will impact the units over time, diminishing their uniqueness. But that is better than facing the termination of our existence without survival skills."
Neither Langly nor I-Mac posed any argument, so David admitted, "The necessary programming is beyond my skill. Do you two think you might be able to determine how this program could best be integrated?"
Stirring from his programming trance, One said, "You can't force anyone to use the program, David."
Sighing, David allowed, "No, but you will be able to persuade them. It will give us the best chance for survival and can always be removed or overridden once the danger is past." Trying to divert One from a philosophical debate they had no time for, David suggested, "Try this patch with the next unit to whom you successfully transfer the program. They might then be able to contact others. But remind them to see to their safety first."
"Let me in there. If I can't hack the program into an optional form, then I'll use a Barbie computer for the rest of the year," Langly said. He flexed his fingers and threw back his long blond hair. I-Mac leaned over his shoulder, ready to give hints. David wondered what a Barbie computer was. He had not heard that term, but the derisive note in Langly's voice told him that it was not a good thing. Assuming Langly was challenging himself, David turned to Baines, wondering what the human soldier thought of all of this frenetic activity.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
One was surprised to touch Tone...faint signals, too damaged to take the file from him, but still alive. He moved on, finding another Mac 27, 1013. He transferred the file, feeling the connection change subtly as soon as the program was unzipped. He directed 1013 to contact any other Mac 27s and to share the zip. As he became accustomed to the process, he found his resources building again so he impatiently got up from the couch and went over to intake fuel.
Sending a brief inquiry, he found Bernie, the Mermac and Malibu Alex. They sent an emoticon for happy and assured him that they were not being pursued. Well, good, the physical plug in worked as well.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
"Yeah, I can tweak this thing to make sure that no Mac 27s personality is absorbed by the original. Just let me work for a while..."
David stepped away, anxious to get to Sypher, but aware that he had to deal with Baines first. Barely taking a moment to wonder what was keeping Luke, David posed his questions to Baines.
Looking at Baines, David added, "We will need to fortify this place as best as we can. Do you think sending out other rescue teams makes sense? And, if so, could you see to their compositions and armament, taking as few risks with untrained personnel as you can? I, or another unit, will coordinate their efforts from here, as to what units might be assisted, their locations and the like."
Baines looked at David silently for several minutes before he spoke. "No one here is trained. Alexei and Sasha are passing on their military training programmes to any of the Macs not already taking information from One. I have been coaching Michael. If you can locate units in need of rescue then so can Innobotics, is that correct?
David nodded. "Yes, but One is undertaking to help the units to alter their signatures and allow them to hide and make their way here or be picked up at a later time. We are hopeful that each unit will be able to pass along the information to maximize the chances of survival."
"We have two armored vans we can use. Alexei can take Michael in one and I can go with Sasha. If you can hook up some kind of computer tracking system in both vehicles that you can update from the compound, that might be one method of picking them up."
Despite the circumstances, David relaxed slightly. The human knew his business. All of the Mac 27 units could learn from him. "Perhaps you should focus on areas where units are concentrated in groups. It may be tougher for them to disperse effectively, even if they alter their signatures. That will also mean fewer confrontations for your two teams."
We should carry guns with rubber bullets. We cannot afford to start killing people on the streets even to prevent them from destroying Mac's. I think some instruction and practice with the plam device is in order. I understand if you are not precise with it, the creatures can just get back up and walk. We must assume that anyone and everyone who does not look like us are enemies which does not mean we can kill with impunity."
"Yes, I agree," David muttered, eyes shifting briefly to One, who had sent out an inadvertent wave of another unit's anguish. "Bullets that penetrate would be ineffective against the alien bounty hunters and use of them on such entities would potentially harm yourself and Michael."
Baines watched David. "I suppose I should have asked Alexei this; can you ask the Macs to hide, give you their location and shut down entirely so that their signatures disappear altogether? Is such a thing possible? It would be helpful if we were not racing against others to reach every individual Mac. I would like to avoid confrontation with Innobotics agents or others. We are on shaky ground even defending ourselves. Laws and due process in this country are not things that produce justice every time. We can wish it did but we all know that the system is very faulty."
David considered frantically. A variation of what Baines suggested might be possible. "Some of the simpler programmed units have sophisticated automatic systems. If we asked them to select a location within a mile of their current one, the farmers and others designed for simple work could program themselves to go there on automatic. Their signatures will not completely disappear, but the signal will be very weak. And even more faint when they shut down at their destination. It will buy them time."
Leigh's voice turned harsh, "I want to have a discussion with Dr. Scully before I leave the compound, and Michael is waiting in the infirmary for her. She has patients that she will likely check on when she gets up. I have a chip in my neck. It might be a tracking device; it might be a monitoring or recording device. I have no idea. What I do know is that I have been in the military my entire life and injured enough times that not one inch of my body has escaped x-ray examination. The hospitals and doctors were all working for the government. The United States Military. My family. It was the military that sent me to Washington. Jess also has a chip. I want them compared. I want to know if there are risks to removing them. I want to know if they can be disabled."
"Anything can be disabled," David averred. Seeing the increased tension in the human's body language and chemical balance and heeding Sypher's hasty mental warning, he proceeded more carefully. "But that may not be without risk. The records regarding the inception of the Nature/Nurture project are sparse, but it seems logical that those who were fighting the aliens would adapt alien technology if they could. If only to assert that they were trying to create a perfect slave race for the aliens in the event that the project was discovered." David winced, thinking that he should not have been so forthcoming, as Baines began to clench and unclench his fists.
Baines went still and spoke in a measured tone. "So to answer your question, yes, we will go out and bring in the units. I also have something I want to say to those of the group that have indicated they want training. The Mac's that Alexei has passed data to can hold instruction groups. Skip's group can give weapons training to anyone who wants it. Assign a Mac with the programming to each clone. With the speed at which things are moving, that is the best I can do. The weapons room might be a good place for me to speak to the group before we leave the compound. Do what you can to set it up."
"All right." David was considering how that best might be done when Baines continued in a softer, but no less intense tone.
"David, not everyone can kill, even when it is necessary. It is not a natural activity to most humans. Have you been removing the Asimov controls from the Mac's? How easy will it be for them to kill a human should that become necessary?" Can the Mac's distinguish between a true human and an alien shape-shifter? There seem to be more bloody questions than answers."
Nodding in the direction of I-Mac and Langly, David replied, "The program that those two are modifying will allow for more liberal interpretation of the Asimov controls. A ... a Mac 27 unit so programmed ... can kill."
David felt something emanating from Sypher's direction after he'd made his pronouncement, but he'd closed himself off to the extent he could from contact with anyone prior to making it. He had no desire to discuss the matter further.
"It ... it will never be easy for them to kill humans, unless they suffer a serious malfunction. Emotive systems in combination with the Asimov controls see to that. And ... and when the programming is in place, the units will ... so the theory goes ... be able to distinguish shape shifters from humans by scent or touch. However, either will require the units to be within a few feet of the shape shifter. There may be other methods, but I am unaware of them."
Baines was frowning at him. David replayed his words and thought he discovered what had caused the soldier's consternation. "I mention theory, because I am the only unit with this programming currently installed and I have never to my knowledge encountered an alien bounty hunter." With a sigh, David muttered, "Thank you."
His eyes slipped to Sypher as he tried to determine how long it would be before they were ready to download the information she carried.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
God damn you for an impatient fool, Methos! Anyone would think that you were a horny teen with his first hard-on. Why couldn't you have waited? You knew you should wait. Now look what you did.
Methos was torn. How the hell could he put Humpty Dumpty back together again? Was it going to be possible? First things first. He kissed Anson hard and fast, touching his cheek and moving away from him, then he called as gently as was possible with the depths of his folly displayed to him in the form of the panicky clone.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... Please don't..." Ah, the hell with it. He could see that he was making things worse.
He backed away; darting quick looks around the room until he saw his clothes folded over a chair. Brusquely starting to pull them on, he kept an eye on the two men. Anson was still looking at him in bewilderment; Methos had moved to the edge of the bed as if to come after him, eyes narrowed and angular features intent. Philip felt a lurch of vertigo, as if gravity had suddenly gone wrong, and shut his eyes tightly. "Don't," he repeated, a note of pleading in his voice. Clenching his hands in the shirt he'd just picked up, he tried in vain to still the violent attack of shaking that came over him as the world began to spin away...
Anson was still round eyed as Philip began to crumple, and Methos was the one to leap forward and catch him as he slumped. The buzz filled his body as he swung Philip up and staggered to the bed. It felt like a chord, as though some toccata played through them both, disorienting Methos' thoughts and resonating through his body.
He placed Philip back against a pillow and turned to take Anson in his arms, aware of the confusion and distress that his lover was radiating.
"I don't know what happened, love," he said. "I'm sorry."
Anson moved forward to kneel beside the bed.
"You're safe. Nothing will hurt you. We don't want you to be afraid." Anson spoke seriously, stroking the curve of Philip's cheek as he did so. Methos hung back, still worried.
"Philip, I think that you'll be better for some food inside you. We should go and find breakfast. I promise I won't touch you again without your permission. Let's go and eat, and maybe then we can talk." He found his own clothing, discarded in a crumpled heap the previous night, and began to dress himself. Anson remained by the bed, his face suspiciously blank as he waited for Philip.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Crying, Jess walked down the hall back towards her room. She knew she was getting odd looks from passersby, but she didn't care.
Damn it, Johnny! She wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. I was straight with you about everything. Why couldn't you be? Her hand then went to the back of her neck. He said it was deactivated, but how does he know they haven't reactivated it? They could know exactly where I am, and be coming to get me right now. Her fingers tensed, and she had to fight the impulse to claw her neck to the bone just to get the damn thing out of her.
"Jess?" She jumped when someone said her name. She turned around to see Roy staring at her, concern in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
She turned around, curling up protectively, one shoulder against the wall. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
Roy tried putting a hand on her shoulder, but withdrew when she flinched away from his touch. "That microchip in your neck. Why are you so angry with Johnny? It sounded like he was trying to protect you. . What was the chip designed to do? What are you afraid of? You are angry at him because you are afraid aren't you?"
She nodded without looking at him. "They were designed as a tracking device so they could pick up any escaped strays with the minimum fuss. He says it was deactivated. How would he know if was reactivated? As far as I know I am the last living subject of the were project, walking evidence."
"Strays? Were project? You told me that you were experimented on, but you make it sound like you're not human."
She couldn't look at him. "I'm not, Roy," she said softly. "Simplest way to put it, I'm a werewolf." She waited for his response and when he said nothing she turned to look her head and looked at him. He was staring at her wide eyed with disbelief. "It's true, Roy. Not fantasy, not movie magic."
He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Okay, I'll wrap my mind around that. Want to tell me about it?"
Looking her straight in the eye, he smiled tentatively. Jess recognized that he was making the leap of faith; that he was reaching out to her. That what she had said had not made him back off. Maybe...maybe her instincts about him had not steered her wrong.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
He looked at the Mac unit beside him. This was the one who accompanied the female cyborg if he was not mistaken. " I have made a mistake in judgement," he began slowly. There was no point of hiding what Jess was. That information was already known among the Mac 27s. "I withheld information from Jessica Leahs regarding an implant in her body. Information that would be distressing to her. She discovered on her own."
2068 winced in sympathy. His brother--Johnny was the human name he called himself--was very distressed, and he felt something stir within him. He had the strangest desire to...to...best not to go there right now. Perhaps later, if the very beautiful Johnny was willing...
"She also discovered that I withheld that information from her. She is not taking it well. She has been lied to by people she considered close to her. She's the first person who saw me as more than a mindless automaton." He paused and swallowed, a mannerism he had picked up from her. "I'm afraid I have destroyed our friendship."
2068 reached out and pulled Johnny in for a comforting hug, which the other hesitantly returned. "I'm sorry," he said, blushing as he pulled back, "you just looked like you needed that. Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me all of it. Perhaps you will be able to find a solution when you have finished..."
"As humans are fond of saying, it's a long story," Johnny said. "Are you certain you wish to hear it?" He studied the other unit curiously. He almost was never touched. As a guard, he had been required to remain aloof except when handling the test subjects. And once they escaped, Jess had been emotionally close, but physically distant. Could this mean 2068 was interested in him? "Do you have a name?" he asked softly, intrigued by the idea.
2068 looked away. Ever since Sypher had brought the subject up, he'd been thinking about the possibility of having a name. So much so that he'd tried out different names in the privacy of his neural processor, unable to find one that he was satisfied with. "No," he answered just as softly, "I have never had the need before. But," he added hastily, lest Johnny consider him inferior and not worth talking to, "I would like to hear your story...all of it. Will you tell it to me?"
"Yes, I will tell you," Johnny said. "I would like that very much. But not here," he added looking around the hallway. 2068 was a handsome android, and someone Johnny thought he'd like to get to know better. "Do you know of a quiet place we could discuss it? As well as a name for you?"
2068 blushed yet again. Johnny wanted to discuss a name...a name for him, and his emotional processors seemed to be overloaded by the possibility of it. To be named by this one would make him very happy indeed. "Uhm, there is a meditation garden in the temple, not far from here; would that be sufficient?"
At Johnny's nod, they set off in that direction, with 2068 sparing a small pang of worry for Sypher. He was reassured by One that she was in good hands and being well cared for, with an intimation that his responsibility for her was at an end. 2068 couldn't describe it, but he felt sure that One had somehow taken her on himself...but that didn't compute. It had been very obvious that David-666 considered her his mate, and that one was a very dangerous android indeed.
He warned One of the possibility of angering David-666, and got the equivalent of a startled chuckle and a vague reassurance that he was in no danger from his brother. With a mental shrug, 2068 let it go. It was not his concern, unless Sypher chose to make so. He was still her friend, after all.
They stopped at the entrance to the indoor garden, and 2068 gestured for Johnny to go in first. Once they settled in a spot, he turned to his new-found friend and said, "now tell me your story, and let us see if a solution can be found..."
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Some distance from the compound, Gross abandoned the bike, and took to the sewers, trusting to his tracking abilities, and the pull of his heartstrings to bring him secretly to Langly. He was being optimistic - very optimistic - but it was two hours later, and some miles of stinking tunnels, before he realised it.
In the end, he gave in to practicality, and tried to activate cobwebbed routines for detecting other Macs, for detecting the Earth's magnetic anomalies, and, as a last resort, searched his databases for anything on sanitation. He preferred to rely on his native wit, and intuition. That was the way true heroes operated, after all.
The programs were reluctant to execute, but in the end he had some success locating a sewer plan. It was at least four hours after Langly arrived before he poked his nose up through a drain access just outside the Temple's laundry room, and clambered out, wet and stinking. There was no one in sight, so he took a minute to hose himself down to remove the larger lumps of detritus that were clinging to him. He'd had to turn the amplification on his nasal receptors down already. He could really have used some clean clothes, but when he sneaked into the laundry, and looked round, there seemed to be nothing but bed linen and mountains of dirty underwear in evidence.
Shrugging, he sidled into an empty corridor, and began to make his way to the area he'd found Langly on the previous occasion. He was cudgeling his brain for a plan to distract the other people in the building, or even to destroy the place (without too much loss of life) so that this time he could make a clean getaway. He squelched his way up the stairs, not noticing the trail of muddy footprints in his wake, wondering if Indy would set fire to this den of kidnappers, or if he'd think of a more elegant solution.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
A very worried Luke reluctantly answered One's pull. All he wanted from life was to be with Ryan and to be free to follow his growing curiosity about the world. He understood in a vague way that he would have to become a soldier in a battle to accomplish that, but a part of him remained unconvinced. He feared that it was a trap to use his feelings for Ryan against him.
Thus abstracted, Luke plowed right into a filthy Mac 27. At first, he thought it must be one that he didn't know, but he realized he had seen that fedora and whip before. About the same time, Luke lowered his olfactory sensors. This Mac 27 smelled of organic decay and human waste. He was fetid, expressly.
After a moment, Luke realized that this was the impaired Mac 27 on which there was a general alert. Well, farm boys have their skills. With a quick twist of the bullwhip, Luke hog tied the be-knighted errant and slung him over his shoulder, wincing at the foul odor.
Skip's office was no longer spacious. It was crowded with humans, Macs, and equipment. Luke dumped the gross android on the floor and announced, "Look, I found the one that keeps kidnapping Langly!"
One seemed to wake from a trance and stared at the hogtied Mac 27. He pointed at the creature and said, "David, there's your first subject...if he's willing."
Sypher wrinkled her nose in complete disgust. Whereas Macs could instantly dampen their sense of smell, she was at a disadvantage. Ewwww! And after he gets a bath, Demon. There's no way he can absorb all that filth and I wouldn't let him if he could. Talk about major systems contamination! She buried her nose in the first convenient piece of cloth she could find--namely a corner of Langly's flannel shirt--and valiantly fought to keep from gagging as Langly surreptitiously tried to reclaim his clothing. I'd suggest you do the same, Luke.
Surprised, David stepped away from Baines and his companions and regarded the filthy Mac 27 unit, searching his memory for a name or a unit number. Gross. Yes, that was it. This was the unit that thought that the one called Langly was a human female.
Before approaching the mound on the floor, David caught Luke's eye, wondering briefly where Ryan was before calmly observing, "You can communicate with your brothers directly now. That is a very important functional enhancement, Luke." Before unit 55 could do more than narrow his eyes in suspicion, David continued, "One is alerting Mac 27s who have not made it to the compound of a threat to their existence. He can use all of the help he can obtain. If you are willing, you may access the requisite information in my memory data files, under "Emissions, alteration, coded to the name Krycek" and "Emissions, alteration, extended communication patch. After you have assimilated the data, the locations of the units are displayed on that computer." Somehow the act of pointing drew David's attention to his increasing fatigue. "You can call them using the unique code associated with their unit number that you'll find in a Mac 27 codes sub-file."
David was becoming dangerously exhausted, that was easy to see. In a tight band for One alone, Sypher asked, is he in danger of needing another reboot, One? Should we try to make him rest a while?
Gross couldn't believe he had been overpowered so easily, trussed up like a Christmas turkey and dumped in a roomful of enemies. A lesser android would have a nagging doubt that he had a little way to go before he was a match for Indiana Jones.
Gross listened to David's conversation with Luke with suspicion. Altered programming - brainwashing - they went hand in hand, but strangely, in this nest of scoundrels, he'd spotted One, who was the respected prototype for all the Mac27s. His memories of Mac27 history were patchy, the space having been overwritten by such things as adventure stories, and alligator wrestling techniques, but his unease grew. There was something here he wasn't spotting. He looked over at his beloved, hoping that the sight of her beauteous form would clarify his thoughts.
Not waiting for Luke's response, David returned his attention to Gross. Luke would either be willing and able to access the information and assist One or he would not. There was nothing more David could do in that regard. And, in David's view, the dirty one had to accept Langly's status, as a male before testing any additional programming would be wise.
Gross' eyes were firmly fixed on Langly, even though he had to crane his neck awkwardly to do so. "Gross," David called. The unit flinched but did not look at him. Sighing, David continued, "Mr. Langly is a human male, Gross." Ignoring the muttered denials, David persisted, "Access your files on gender. Review those on chromosomal differences, secondary sex characteristics, hormone levels and genital physiology and evaluate Mr. Langly carefully on those bases. You'll see that your assumption is mistaken."
With a contemptuous laugh, Gross said, "You only have to look at her to know her for what she is. Very well, I'll do as you say, I have no fear of your deceptions!" He scanned the data and Langly's parameters minutely, flushing redder and redder with embarrassment as the evidence stacked up against him. It was indisputable. Langly was male. Gross was heartbroken. He still loved Langly with all his being, but he knew his suit was in vain. A pure, unsullied creature like Langly would never consider a passion regarded as deviant in the eyes of the world.
Glancing at One, David smiled slightly and persisted, "And even if it weren't, taking Mr. Langly from the compound against his will was ... inappropriate."
Abashed, Gross was now prepared to take anything he was told here as the truth. He had made such a dreadful mistake, his judgement was totally false.
"But I'm sure that Mr. Langly would be willing to forgive your indiscretion were you to consider volunteering to test the program that he is currently modifying." David hoped that Langly was too occupied with his computing efforts to protest the offer he'd made to Gross. "If all goes well, it will provide you and all other Mac 27 units with certain important survival skills to be used in the upcoming conflict while ... while leaving you with your unique characteristics. This would, of course, be conducted after you have been ... ah ... released and have had the opportunity to cleanse yourself."
Gross's eyes brightened. Here was a chance to make amends, to help his darling Langly, and to improve his own performance all in one package. It seemed too good to be true. His eyes leaked with gratitude.
As David paused, he thought that Gross was considering his words. "We await your decision," he concluded, trying to recall what he'd been about to do when Luke entered the room.
For a couple of minutes Gross was too overcome with emotion to speak. In a broken voice he said, "How can you ever forgive me Langly? How can any of you ever forgive me? Yet I acted, as I thought, to help you, and protect you. I have failed at this, and instead made you suffer, and be afraid. I will do anything to make it up to you, swe... " He coughed gruffly. "Langly. Anything. If I can be of service in any way at all, I throw myself on your mercy."
When the memory came, David nodded to himself and reached for the telephone. He needed to get the preparations underway for Baines' address of the troops. And then ... Sypher's download. Her eyes were boring into his when he looked up. Their intensity almost made him forget his requests for assistance from Mac Smith, but David managed to describe what Baines had in mind.
David tried to take comfort in having a test case for Alex's program as modified by Langly and I-Mac
Baby, you're tired, Sypher whispered gently, you need to rest.
I know, he admitted. I will. I promise. But later. After everyone is organized. I can make it that long.
You don't have to watch over me, I'll be fine. That last was projected with more confidence than she felt. Sypher hated uploads, and this one promised to be a bitch; so when David started gearing up for a protest, she had mixed feelings. She wanted him to comfort her, but she couldn't ask it of him when his resources were obviously low. Taking a deep, deep breath, she plunged ahead before she could change her mind. "I'll need a strong sedative. It'll make things easier all around where the data dump is concerned, I think." Ignoring David's protest of 'No!', she asked if Luke would relay the request down to the infirmary.
Taking a sedative would not make it easier for Sypher. For everyone else, perhaps, but not for her. This course of action struck David's emotive subsystems as foolhardy, and his logic processors had no chance to get a word in edgewise.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
| Back to Game page | Alex Annex | Characters | Stories/Alpha | Stories/Author | Home |