Chapter 35 “What would you do to get out?”

John strode across the open floor. He glanced up at the ceiling, a cold shiver hitting him at the thought of falling all that way. He found the residence Grant had been told to wait in. “Grant, it's John.” He knocked on the open door frame as he entered. “Oh hello Janey.” She sat at a worktable, hands fidgeting and leg shaking.

“My designation is also Janey.” The faux feminine robot almost sounded excited. “Are you a real bitch too?” The human Janey gawped back in shock.

“Ignore her, damn bot’s got a screw loose.” John started to usher Janey out.

“All of my six hundred and twenty eight screws are secure.” Janey turned and stepped out, somewhat indignant.

“Listen Janey, I know why you’re upset.” John pulled a chair over. “I’m sorry, it just isn’t the right time for Grant to leave.”

“Yeah, we thought as much when we saw you.” She dismissed the life changing proposal. “This is about…”

“Janey, whatever it is, tell me so I can help you. All three of you.” John put his hand on her knee to stop it shaking.

“When I got pregnant, they switched me to admin duties. There was this guy there, Connor. He seemed friendly, not like the rest of them stuck up pricks. We worked together for months until I changed shifts because of the morning sickness. After that he started swapping his shifts to work with me. When Grant and I registered to leave I started getting these anonymous vmails. Awful things about how we were going to die out there. I complained but with everything else going on, and there wasn’t any proof.”

“John I need to see those vmails.” Rosie growled in his ear, her rage spurring on his own.

“Where’s your pipboy?” John asked, trying to sound calm.

“It’s at home on the family deck. I haven’t worn it in weeks because of my swollen wrists. But it’s Grant, he was acting really strange. He went out about half an hour ago and he’s not come back.” Janey broke and began to sob.

“John, it’s Mike. He’s developed an obsession. He could be after Grant, he could be trying to kill Janey. I’ve seen these go bad ten different ways.” Mike sounded worried.

“Solid copy. I need a location on Grant and Connor.” John asked, press checking his sidearm.

“Connor hasn’t moved.” Rosie replied. “Grant isn’t on the...he’s hidden his location John. He could be going after Connor.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” John marched from the residence, a clear goal in mind. “Janey, secure Janey.” He stepped past the robot and into the open space.

Instantly something felt off. John willed himself into the dreamlike state. In front of him the light seemed to shift, almost flickering on and off. A terrifying thought made him look up. From the fourth floor high above, someone had tipped a pallet of wall panels over. Now the thin metal plates fell like giant blades towards him. John took two bounding strides, slamming into Janey’s metal body, sending them both back into the residence.

Time snapped back as John got to his feet. He helped Janey up as the panels hit with a cacophony of clanging thuds. John stepped out, pistol drawn, to find himself surrounded by sharp metal sticking up from the floor. He kicked them aside as quickly as he dared, getting out far enough to see the fourth floor. No sign of anyone, just the broken railing swinging back and forth.

“John, I need you to hear me on this.” Rosie spoke softly in his ear. “Connor hasn’t moved. I think Grant is targeting you.”

“That’s crazy.” John couldn’t see it.

“What would you do to get out John? What would I do? What would we do to the person who took that from us. That place makes people crazy.” Rosie had a point, he saw that.

“I need you to patch me in t—” John stopped talking as a metallic snap echoed, immediately followed by booming gunfire.

John darted through the sharp metal edges and bullets in the dreamlike state. Notifications showing him the cuts on his legs he didn’t feel. He made it to the support pillar nearest Janey, and let time snap back. In one fluid motion he drew the folding holdout pistol from his back and slid it along the ground.

“Rosie, get her out of here!” John yelled, returning fire with his submachine gun. The ten mil rounds sounded like hail compared to the thundering assault rifle.

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“Janey, secure precious cargo, priority one.” Rosie wasn’t going to risk back seat piloting, not when Janey could handle it. “Lift will be there in ten seconds.”

“Confirmed.” Janey’s triple pronged claw reconfigured, taking the pistol. The other clamped around her namesake’s wrist. “Please come with me if you want to live.”

“Move!” John waited for the shooter to reload and started to advance. Janey laid down alarmingly accurate bursts of fire, using her own body as walking cover. The lift doors opened just in time for both Janey’s to step in.

John returned clacking bursts of suppressed gunfire. Outmatched by one of the assault rifles he’d had them build. He glanced at scrapes and tears left by the bullets. “Whoever it is, they can’t shoot for shit.” John half joked to Rosie over the comm.

“Well what are you complaining for.” Rosie joked back.

“They might get lucky.” He replied, keeping the banter going.

“Least you know the rifles work.” They laughed together, breaking the surreal tension. “Now move.”

“Yes sir.” John reloaded, took a deep breath and returned fire.

He ditched the now empty smg at the bottom of the sharply angled ladder and heaved himself up it. Again and again he pulled himself up, rose carved pistol in hand. By the time he reached the top his heart pounded in his ears.

John ducked into the nearest open door frame and caught his breath. He peeled out, weapon drawn, just in time to see a shiny vault-suit duck into a residence. John followed at a steady pace. His training screaming at him to slow down.

Spent casings gave away the shooter's position. John swept inside, finding Grant stood in the corner, holding a rifle.

“Put it down Grant.” John barked, weapon aimed. Grant didn’t look angry, he looked desperately sad. A beaten, broken man without hope. A complete contrast to the man who was ready to leave a few hours ago. “Whatever it is, we can talk about this.” John holstered his weapon, stepping closer. Grant raised the assault rifle, within John’s reach. He grabbed the barrel, pushing it away and spinning an elbow into Grant’s face. Just like Grimm taught him.

Grant recoiled, dazed and nose bloodied. To John’s surprise he slashed at him. The scalpel glinted in the light as Grant walked John back. “You want to leave right? Let’s get Janey and go, right now.” John played for time. “You can tell her go on.” Rosie read the play and opened Grant’s comm.

“Janey, talk to Grant.” Rosie ignored the stunned look from the terrified woman. “Tell him It’s alright.”

“Grant?” The human Janey called out from the descending lift. “I’m scared.”

“Promise me you’ll get her out.” Grant pleaded with him, still desperate despite having the advantage.

“I’ll get you both out, I promise. We can…” John looked Grant right in the eye as he plunged the scalpel into his own neck.

Arterial blood sprayed over John as he grabbed Grant’s neck. “Rosie I need a med team and matched blood up here right fucking now!”

“We’re the closest lift, I’ll have a med team meet us, eta four minutes.” Rosie dispatched orders through the Vault system when suddenly the lift stopped moving. “Fuck not now.” She scrambled a repair team with an emergency code, while rerouting an extra med team.

“Janey, make a hole, I’m not waiting.” Rosie said to her robotic companion.

“Inadvisable.” Janey responded. “The fumes could harm the infant. Also med scans indicat—”

“My water just broke!” Janey yelled, the stress bringing on labour.

“Med scans indicate the infant is in a suboptimal breech position.” Janey’s calm tone sent her pregnant companion into a panic. “Admin Rosie, I have a protocol that I calculate will be effective, but the patient must be calm.”

“Janey!” Rosie shouted through the robotic speakers. “It’s Rosie, you remember me right?” Judging by her two silver teeth Rosie guessed she did.

“Rosie?” Even in her panicked state she seemed baffled. “What happened to,” She screamed and fell to her knees as a contraction hit her.

“This is my friend Janey, I’m controlling her remotely.” Rosie saw that didn’t exactly help. “You want to know why I named her after you? Because you were the toughest bitch I ever met. Now suck it up, this is going to be weird.”

Rosie watched through Janey’s eye as she applied precise pressure to the woman’s belly. The green outline of a baby would shift, Janey would recalculate at start over. “External cephalic version, or ecv, has existed in some form since three eighty four b.c. the time of Aristotle.” The historical facts didn’t help Janey’s panic.

“Perhaps a joke.” The robotic Janey continued. “A woman visits the doctor to ask if she should have a baby after thirty five. The doctor replies no, thirty five is enough.” No one said anything. “Perhaps I did not deliver it correctly. Let’s hope the next delivery goes better.” The pregnant Janey actually let out a laugh that became a scream. To everyone’s relief the lift shunted back into life.

The doors slid open to a waiting med team of three stunned onlookers. “You!” Rosie thrust Janey’s mechanical arm out at one of them. “Get this woman to the infirmary, stat! You two with me, move!” They got the pregnant woman into a wheelchair and off down the corridor. The other two med tech’s edged in past Janey. “A policeman and a robot walk into a bar.” The doors slid shut as Janey tried to ease the tension.

“Alright Janey, just like we practised.” Rosie triggered a protocol she’d been working on.

“Please step forward and turn around.” Janey picked the taller of the two med techs. He stepped closer, shaking with fear.

“Please remain calm.” She put one arm over his shoulder, bringing the other round to meet it. The triple pronged claws clasped together and a whirring buzz sounded from Janey’s hips. “Please step forward.” The med tech did, bringing Janey’s torso with him. “I’m pleased backpack mode is a success. In fact I am beside myself.” The robot’s joke fell flat.

The lift doors opened and the half terrified med tech bolted. Eager to be rid of the robot clinging to him like a backpack.