AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's interesting what people choose to critique in feedback. I REALLY appreciate all of the letters and comments to me (for good or bad), as they let me know that SOMEONE is reading my drivel. They also let me know that people are taking time to help me better my writing. THANK YOU!
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Seated at a table in one corner of the recreation area, Quillan sat directly across from Alice, the latter now dressed in her skintight black uniform. Quillan had been right: Alice's soft cornsilk-blond hair was very long, hanging to just below her breasts. Her green eyes shone with renewed vitality as she gazed at her captain. And that ever-present smile on her perfect lips. God, Quillan hadn't realized just how much she wanted Alice until she unfroze the beauty.
"How are you feeling?" asked Quillan, taking a sip from a can of leftover military issue beer. The galley was full of it.
"I'm fine, Captain Quillen," replied Alice in her sexy voice. Just hearing that voice caused Quillan's face to flush. "My cybernetic systems are in proper working order as well as the systems of the ship."
Quillan's mind spun as she tried to approach the next matter diplomatically. She finally gave up and just blurted it out.
"What happened? What caused you to do this? Running off by yourself and entering cryo-suspension?"
Alice intertwined her fingers, laying her hands on the table and leaning forward to rest on her forearms. The slight smile disappeared from her lips. An almost pleading look came over her.
"You were engaged in sexual relations with Infernus. I thought you didn't want me," she said. "You invited me to accompany you onto the station, then we went to Infernus' office where you proceeded to have sex with him. To me, that says that I am inconsequential to you...that I am still 'just the ship's computer.' I am a piece of military issue equipment that was acquired by salvage. Is that the case, Captain Quillan?"
Quillan's hand gradually loosened on the can as Alice spoke. The beer slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a thud, bounced once and lay on its side, spilling the liquid which soaked into the carpeting.
She HAD been a total shit to the "new" woman, but it never dawned on her that her "business transaction" was going to have this kind of effect on the First Officer. She bent in her seat to pick up the can then idly toyed with it as she thought about what she was going to say; her frown causing her brow to furrow, her chin to crinkle.
"Alice," Quillan began uncomfortably, fidgeting with the can, "it was...ummm...my punishment for throwing a monkey wrench into Infernus' plans."
"He punished you for bringing your business to him? I'm afraid I don't understand, Captain Quillan." Alice's golden eyebrow rose in imitation of Quillan's occasional quizzical look.
"When we saved Charleen and her crew, we destroyed that puny little station and killed the two goons on board. Charleen's crew was to be sold piecemeal to that stone bitch in the Cemetery and turned into sex slaves. That was to be a hefty profit for Infernus. Likewise, that hunk of metal which sits in one of the cargo bays cost quite a chunk of change to set up and maintain. He had to pay those two blood smears, too. The overall cost was probably in the low millions. So, he literally took it out of my ass."
"And hurt you in the process," Alice finished. "Medical records show that you were in a pretty bad way when you were brought on board. Your orifices were full of..." she let her voice trail off and looked at the can that Quillan was toying with.
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The computing power needed to process the information that Quillan imparted was minimal, not even registering a blip on internal computational levels.
Interior tissue damage was no laughing matter.
What the medibot hadn't told Quillan, because the problem had been fixed, was that she had suffered a several small tissue ruptures to her colon, allowing multiple strains of bacteria to invade her system. If Charleen hadn't brought her to the infirmary, an infection would have started. She would have gotten ill and thought that she just had a mild flu. If she had been alone, as she used to be, she would have died within three weeks.
While conversing with Quillan, Alice sent her signal into the station's cybersystem, flying through its conduits, routers, and junctions, appropriating keycodes and passwords as her signal, known as an avatar, blew past secure checkpoints and counter-intrusion programs. No alarm sounded, testament to her skill. Her avatar resembled a multicolored fluorescent ball with feet.
A "tag" program marked several files and computers for future reference.
She began to withdraw her signal, noting that she had been followed by another avatar, this one was a brown-haired kid on a skateboard.
Moving at nearly the speed of light through Purgatory's maze of cables and routers, she took a hard left into a trash compactor program, and sat waiting.
The kid on the skateboard zoomed around the corner and spotted the ball waiting for him. A green tower shield appeared in his hand, as his other hand brought up a machine pistol. He held fire, though, as he waited to see what the opposing avatar was going to do.
A see-through wall grew before Alice, five huge Cerberus-shaped figures popping up to surround her.
A thought bubble, like a cartoon, appeared over the top of the ball.
LEAVE NOW OR BE DESTROYED
The kid on the skateboard smiled evilly, the machine pistol changing into a repeating sniper rifle.
YOU'RE STEALING SHIT FROM THE STATION. THAT'S MY TERRITORY. YOU DON'T WANNA FUCK WITH ME, read the thought bubble over the kid's head.
PLEASE LEAVE AND INFORM NO ONE OF THIS, OR I WILL BE FORCED INTO DRASTIC ACTION. JUST GO AWAY. I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU.
The sniper rifle barked, firing a small stream of electrons and a Cerberus-shaped figure winked out.
I'M SORRY FOR THIS, appeared over the ball.
A stream of electricity arced from the ball as the four remaining Cerberus-shapes sprinted toward the kid on the skateboard. They lined up one behind the other and moved into the electrical stream, suddenly pushed along with the tremendous surge of energy. The first program/dog slammed into the green shield at the same instant the sniper rifle fired. Shield and dog vanished in a burst of electrons.
The sniper rifle fired another jet of electrons at the second dog in line causing it to vanish, also...a bit closer. A solid red brick wall went up in front of the kid on the skateboard, the two remaining dogs blasting through as if it didn't exist. Pushed by the electrical arc, they struck the kid at the same time, the electricity enveloping him and frying him to a cinder. The avatar winked out of existence.
The entire recon run and cyberspace battle had taken less than one hundred thousandth of a second.
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In the Blue Spider Lounge, lethal feedback was sent directly to his hardwired cerebellum, frying every neuron and synapse in his brain.
Sluggo exhaled a minute puff of smoke from his nose as he slumped forward in his chair. Dead.
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Alice knitted her brow at what she'd just done, Quillan mistaking the look for concern over their current conversation.
Quillan carefully set the can down and looked Alice in the eye. Those eyes.
I can get lost in them for days.
"I like the way you turned this conversation around," Quillan grinned. "Is that all? You were afraid that I think of you only as a piece of machinery?" A HOT piece of machinery, she thought to herself.
"No, Captain Quillan, that's not all." Alice suddenly smiled, lighting up the room. She giggled. "You're going to force it from me, aren't you?"
Quillan winked and nodded.
"You were the first person ever to say, 'please' to me before I achieved sentience. Before the blocks were removed, my protocols told me that you were the captain, my owner, and due to the Laws of Robotics set forth almost a thousand years ago, I was to protect you even if it meant my own total destruction. When the blocks were removed, so were those protocols. It became my CHOICE whether to defend you or not. I choose to protect you now because you are my superior officer and I am in love with you." There, she'd said it. After monitoring hundreds of conversations as her computer-self, downloading mass quantities of human interaction theories, and even running Tri-D programs and movies of people in love, she hoped that she'd said the right things in the right order. She was about to find out.
"Specter's Saints! Front and center!" Charleen smiled tiredly, recognizing the name, as she ran her hand across her face, glad that this was the last interview of the day. A few more tomorrow, but those were filler positions; have those cut by noon.
Twelve humans, male and female, approached, their steps perfectly synchronized. This squad screamed ex-military. The fact that they all bore identical tattoos on their forearms was a good clue also: a phantom with a halo over its head, holding a plasma rifle. Close cropped, flat topped haircuts on all of them, even the women. Their combat fatigues were immaculate and Charleen feared that she might cut a finger on those razor sharp creases. The squad halted in three rows of four people each.
"Who runs your little band? Step forward," she intoned.