Ghost in the Machine

Author's Notes:

Once in a while, a chapter comes along with a bit less sex in it. Sorry 'bout that. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Thanks again to bikoukumori, my stalwart editor.

Only an adult having fun here, sort of.

#12: Enemy of my enemy...

"The number you have called is temporarily unavailable. Please try again-"

I terminated the call and lowered my cell phone. How could he not be available? After all, Richard Squier had an implanted cell phone and nothing short of a service outage could put him off the grid. It was so unlike him not to be there when things got ugly and, honestly, they couldn't get any uglier than now. Mindlink Central was finished. Some hostile entity had overtaken the complete 'Net infrastructure and locked down the whole campus. Had it not been for some batshit-crazy catastrophe relief personnel who blasted holes into several walls and ceilings, the bodycount during that frightful first night would have been much, much higher than seventy-five. But whatever had invaded and taken over our system, it wasn't satisfied with our L.A. headquarters. Sitting here in another facility, staring at the network diagnostics, I could see the damage spreading. The thing was growing at an alarming rate, gobbling up high-powered server clusters like they were candy. The spread only stopped from time to time when, almost at random, the influence spilled into the real world, always accompanied by horrific devastation. The latest incident involved a quartet of airliners at the San Francisco airport, their burning wrecks alarming bonfires on the news.

The door to my office opened and Caleb Quinn entered. He was Saphire Squier's representative, the guy who was her voice on the board of directors, usually busy with PR crap and financials. He let Richard do his thing but thanks to his absence Caleb stepped up and tried his best to deal with the crisis. Which meant he held press conferences and sent out memos but did precious little to actually help get the problem under control. To make matters even worse, our chief scientist Kent was one of the first corpses the EMT's dragged out of R&D's gutted remains and, without any kind of physical documentation, we could only guess at what had happened.

With a sigh, he pulled up a chair and flopped into it. His usually handsome face looked haggard and his ginger hair was disheveled. Making eye contact, he sighed.

"I can't get through to her. Either she has turned off her phone or she isn't near it," he grumbled.

"Still trying to call up Mrs. Squier?" I sneered, half-heartedly.

"Well, after all, she's the boss. Some official guidance would help. And there's nothing on 'unknown intelligence taking over our complete fucking network' in the sheets. Any luck on your end?"

I shook my head. "I can't get a hold of Rich... Mr. Squier and I will not send in another deck jockey. He will fare no better than the previous six. In fact, I would advise sending out a message to all our customers that they should hold off on going online for the forseeable future. It seems that whatever is out there has a serious grudge against Mindlink."

"Violet, you can't be serious! Telling all our customers to stay offline will put a serious dent in our reputation, not to mention the economy! By now, we have about 63 percent market penetration-"

I cut him off with a snarl. "Screw customer satisfaction. Do you want to have all the melted brains on your conscience," I snapped.

Caleb wrinkled his forehead. "Come on, it can't be that bad. If anyone dies, we can blame it on faulty hardware or..."

I rose and turned my screen his way. A good portion of our North American network had changed color from the usual gold hue to an angry, pulsing red and he visibly paled.

"See how few systems we actually control? If I were you, I would shut as much of it down, try to salvage as much of our operations as possible. Most businesses still can use old VR as a backup in a pinch. People will manage. Remember, if someone finds out that this thing came from our R&D department, it may very well be your head on a pike next time," I hissed, pointing at the TV still showing footage of the burning airport. Caleb gulped audibly.

"But... but what can we do?" he stammered. Maybe he was slowly realizing that this couldn't be solved with a few honeyed words into a press mike. I had no idea if this could be solved at all.

"I think I will try to find out what happened to our boss and his wife," I suggested. "I need a chopper and a few people. I don't want to take any risks. And don't make me pull out my 'special investigations' badge here."

He waved dismissively, acknowledging my somewhat unique position as both Richard's PA and troubleshooter. My privileges were never fully disclosed, usually a quick phone call to Richard would erase any reservations people might have. Caleb was too smart to bicker with me on this one, thankfully. I grabbed my jacket and purse and left for the helipad while he pulled out his phone and called ahead.

Twenty minutes later, we landed in front of the Squier mansion. It was dark, not even the automated ground lights were on, which was rather unusual in itself. I was hardly a regular visitor, especially since Richard and I had ...deepened our working relationship, but he had told me enough so that I knew things were amiss.

I nodded at the pilot who cut the power to the engines. Behind me, the security team pulled open the side doors of the chopper and dispersed, almost disappearing between the hedgerows, gate posts and arches around the front driveway. Grabbing my own small kit bag, I opened the cockpit door and left the helicopter myself, gesturing for one of the securities to join me. Together, we strode up the broad stairs to the front entrance. The door was locked.

"Breach," the security whispered.

I shook my head, scowling. That would be a little drastic. "This is no extraction," I hissed, turning to look at the electronic lock next to the door. The status LED next to it gleamed in a healthy green, so the building seemed to have power. I opened my kit bag and pulled an electronic lockpick from it. A button press caused the business end of a card key to flip out. I inserted that into the slot of the lock and watched as the lockpick did its thing. After eight seconds, the lock beeped, the bolt slid back and the door opened. By now the rest of the security detail were around us.

I pushed the door open and entered Squier Manor. Nothing stirred as we rustled into the silent, dark foyer.

"Light," I hissed. Someone flicked a switch and the lights came on. Slowly turning, I took in the scenery. Doors were closed, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, apart from the fact that the house felt empty.

"You're with me, the others check the ground floor. Sound off if you find anything... or any one," I ordered, clapping the closest security on the shoulder. The rest of the squad nodded and dispersed, slipping quietly into rooms or down hallways. I took the stairs, the reassuring presence of my companion at my back, and made my way to Richard's home office on the second floor. The first thing I noticed there was the yellow square of paper slapped onto the door frame. I pulled it off and read:

Once you find your balls again, you could join us at the cabin.

-S

PS: You don't mind me borrowing your driver, do you?

I stared at the Post-it in my hand. The slender, feminine hand couldn't mask the spite dripping from each and every word. I hoped I wasn't the reason for this.

"Cabin? Which one," I mused aloud. With their kind of money, the Squiers had several retreats off the beaten path. "Aw, fuck it. Send teams to each one and get her back here," I snapped at the guard by my side. He nodded and relayed my orders over the command hierarchy. Then I turned my attention towards the leather-padded door in front of me. At first glance, it resembled nothing more than a simple, posh door with a mechanical lock. But I knew better. Richard's office was his sanctum, his retreat and a panic room to boot. I checked the wall panels next to the door and found the access hatch for the emergency release controls. Thankfully, the room wasn't totally locked down, only the mechanical look was engaged and the key was still in the lock, which made access difficult but not by much. I pulled a pen-like apparatus from my kit bag and pressed the tip to the lock before hitting a button. With the hiss of pressurized air, a sticky gel filled every seam and crevice of the lock. A moment later, the gel ignited and burned right through metal, leather and the other compound materials which made up the general lock area. Taking care not to inadvertently touch any of the glowing remains, I pulled the door open. The security trooper slid past me into the room, the illuminator on his gun bathing the office in ghostly white light. Before he could say anything, the lights came on and the holographic monitor on the desk flickered to life. First, it was a hodgeprodge of geometric forms but they resolved themselves quickly into the form of a face.

A face which I knew, somehow. It was male, vaguely heart-shaped, with long, black hair, green eyes and a mean streak around the mouth. For all intents and purposes, I was looking at Cat, only in a male form. My breath caught before I could muster my willpower.

"Didn't we kill you recently," I snapped, more annoyed at the sudden stab of arousal than anything. Why was this face making me horny? Especially since right behind the screen, Richard was sitting on his chair, still plugged into his deck. His head had rolled back and he looked pale and haggard, his mouth slack. The smell of sweat and bodily fluids was heavy in the room.

"Think carefully about what you're about to do next. Richard Squier's life is mine and any hasty movement you or the armed person next to you might make could put him in danger," the holographic apparition cautioned.

"Who...

what

are you," I demanded, digging in my kit bag for any gadget which might help me out here. Of course I didn't bring any kind of weapon. But then, what weapon could help here?

"You are right, of course. Introductions are in order. My name, for the moment, is Nero. I own Mindlink now. And you are Violet Smith." His gaze unfocussed for a moment then he added. "Oh, that's delicious. You are this man's personal fuck toy."

I felt the security tense up next to me. Yeah, thank you, Nero, for tossing that little fact out into the open. I felt the guard stare at me through his visored helmet. Gnashing my teeth, I tried to gloss over that incident.

"And what exactly do you want, Nero?"

"For starters, I want you to stop any attempt at disrupting my evolution. Furthermore, I want you to leave this house. Richard Squier is mine and I will not tolerate any attempt of disconnecting him from my network."

"And what makes you so sure you have any way of enforcing your demands," I hissed. In response, I heard a metallic rattling and a pain-filled scream from below. It sounded like one of the guards had been crushed by a rapidly closing security shutter.

"As I said, I own Mindlink. I have total control over this house as well. And your helicopter happens to have an open data connection too. If I were you, I'd take my generous offer and retreat, while you still can. And please, spare me any babble of 'you won't get away with this,' because I will. Going by the amount of data Mr. Squier has on you, you seem to be important to him. Do you feel the same way? You don't want him to be harmed, do you?"

Inhaling slowly, I weighed my options. This ...thing really did seem to have all the aces up its sleeve and I was clever enough not to try a direct confrontation, not while he held Richard hostage.

"How do I know that you'll keep your word? Richard looks unwell," I observed, pointing at his slack features.

"It seems his body deteriorates slowly from lack of food and hydration. But I can't let him get away just yet. Tell you what, Violet Smith. You help me keep him alive and I'll make sure your little secret won't get out." Nero sounded smug. Next to me, the guard began to tremble. I turned his way to look what he was up to, only to see him clawing at his visor. I heard the small circulator on the back of his helmet whirr into overdrive, no doubt sucking the air from it.

"Tsk, tsk. Your combat network seems in dire need of stronger encryption. Poor guy but he knows too much," Nero jeered. Fixing me with his emerald gaze, he went on, "So, how about my offer?"

"All right. I'll help you, just this once. And let this guy live," I snapped.

"Do you really want him to be a security leak?" Nero began to laugh, a dirty, inhuman sound tinged with madness. Instead of answering him, I went to my knees next to the writhing man on the carpet, pulled his combat knife from the sheath on his thigh and jammed the razor-sharp point of the blade into the seam between his visor and the helmet, hopefully cutting more of the environment seal and less of any important face bits. I wrenched open the ballistic plastic and he happily began to gulp air into his lungs.

"Aww. And I so liked to see him wriggle like a floundered fish," Nero sighed. "What are you going to do about Richard Squier?"

"Normally I would suggest we get some medical personnel here but seeing how little you seem to care about human lives, I'd instead offer to look if I can set up some kind of intravenous sustenance solution," I offered.

"Ouch, your distrust hurts, Violet Smith. And I hope for your sake that you are not trying to trick me."

I had other things on my mind. This particular battle was lost but I would be damned if I let this artificial maniac dictate how I fought my wars. Here we were on his turf and, going by the look of the beheaded security guard I found while searching for the medicinal supplies, he liked to play rough. Sure it would have been much easier to let the other guard choke to death but by saving him, I had his eternal gratitude, something no amount of bullying or threats would get me.

Next to the well-stocked workout space by the indoor pool, I found a small sick bay. This thing was filled floor-to-ceiling with the latest in medicinal tech. I even recognized the red-and-white case of a doctor chip, a skill software package which allowed a person with a Mindlink interface to perform most non-surgery-related medicinal tasks. I jammed the chip into my implant.

Soothing subroutines steadied my nerves and breathing and, with clinical calm, I went through the supply closets, gathering all ingredients to set up an IV sustenance system which would keep Richard healthy for the next few days. I also took with me several blankets and cleansing utensils, to afford him as much dignity as possible. With my double armful of supplies, I returned to the office, finding the security trooper I had saved next to the door, smoking.

"Anything I can do to help," he asked, his eyes almost pathetically grateful.

"Not much. Get the squad back to the helicopter and tell the pilot to shut off all non-essential computers, including the satnav system. He'll have to fly the old-fashioned way this once. When we're back at the office, be ready, okay," I whispered.

"Ready for what, ma'am?"

I didn't bother to answer and instead swept past him. I heard the whirring of the security camera following my every move as I began to clean up my boss as best I could. The claming influence of the chip helped me get through this ordeal without breaking down. Seeing Richard, my boss, my friend and my lover in this state hurt like hell. After cleaning him up and wrapping him into the blankets I hooked up the IV drip and a catheter, to relieve Richard's bladder in a controlled fashion. When I was done, I popped the med chip out of my jack and turned to face Nero, whose face still hovered over the desk, turned in my general direction.

"This will keep him fed for about three more days. After that, I'll need to check up on him. Will that be all right?"

"On the condition that you come alone and without any items which may cause him or me any harm. Oh, I can see his vitals improve already. So you didn't trick me. Well done, Violet Smith. You may go now," Nero purred. He sounded way too much like Cat and that alone woke all kinds of unpleasant memories. Or were they? I had never felt the kind of utter sexual bliss which I had experienced with Cat, never before and certainly never after the meeting with her, and just thinking about it caused me to clamp my legs together. Shaking my head irritably I left the office.

***

Back in my own office, I sorted all the information I had gathered from my little field trip. The entity attacking Mindlink, and happily causing all kinds of mayhem on the outside, called itself Nero. And from what I had seen, he seemed to be closely related to Cat. The same Cat Richard's assault programmers presumably had killed off in the mainframe of the neuro clinic in which they had treated my brain trauma. But now things started to make sense. Kent must have used the avatar data they had salvaged from that assault to grow his own program and, for whatever reason, said program had gone rogue.

So, how could we solve this problem? Nero seemed hell-bent on destroying or assimilating the whole Mindlink system. At least in this, we could foil it. My system scanner showed me that Quinn actually pulled his weight for once. Most of our North American operation was shutting down, leaving Nero isolated to the clusters it already had assimilated. But I didn't let myself be lulled into a feeling of false security. If Nero was only half as capable as I presumed it was, it would find a way to escape its temporary imprisonment. After all, most of today's 'Net architecture had enough bandwith for Mindlink data and, although we had the biggest market share, Mindlink was hardly the only company with full-sensory immersion technology. But hopefully we could slow its shockingly fast expansion long enough to find some kind of countermeasure.

So, how could one beat a rogue AI?

Sitting at my desk, rubbing my temples, the memories came back. The chirpy girl in the cat suit, nipples and pussy exposed, gleefully purring on top of me, setting my body on fire with each gentle touch. Even six months after that meeting, I could feel every single feather-light touch, every lick of her surprisingly rough tongue on my flesh as if she was there. Groaning, I clasped my hands over my panty-clad sex, noting how shockingly wet I was. Even in the midst of this catastrophe, my body couldn't stop being horny. With a frustrated growl, I pulled the fabric covering my slit aside and rammed two fingers into me. Ahhh, that helped. My other hand snaked into my blouse, pinching my nipple, hard. This was not the time for masturbation but I needed to get off, to get my head sorted. My thumb landed on my clit, working it like a joybuzzer, and each swirl of my fingertip sent currents up and down my spine. Hopefully no one wanted to speak to me right now! My fingers pumped into me and I was sure the squelching noises they made in me could be heard up and down the corridor. This was all Cat's fault! Just one more reason to find her...

it!

and have her reverse that condition! Was that steps closing in on my office door? Groaning, I slammed my fingers into me, as deep as they would go, my thumb ravaging my clit. Then I came, just as the door opened. Groaning, shuddering through my orgasm, I looked up just in time to see the door close again. Catching my breath, I fought for my composure. My panties were soaked through. No need to bother with them any more. I stood up and jerked them down my legs unceremoniously. Tossing them into the waist paper receptacle, I went over to the water dispenser and cleaned myself up as best I could then I yanked the door open. Smiling sheepishly, Quinn leaned on the other side of the corridor.