Chapter Twenty-Five

Improvising

Colby dove for the treeline as soon as the sound of the grav car echoed through the dunes around him. The trees had started to show up in the last hour or so, but they had been few and far between.

It wasn’t precisely a dense cover, but it was all he had at the moment. Thin, scraggly shrubs and thin trees with sparse leaves surrounded him as he rolled a couple more times to get as much of himself as possible covered. The backpack he slung behind another small bush, the skin on his hand burning where it touched the spiky leaves.

Oh, nice. That shit is gonna burn for hours now.

“Shhh!” Colby hissed, wiggling his body to try and dig into the sand a little more. It was much denser here, the roots and fallen plant matter slowly turning the sand into soil.

You know they can’t hear me, right? Voice in your head here.

Colby ignored the sarcastic tone, eyes scanning the area. The dunes did funny things with the sound, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. When he finally saw the flash of light off metal, Colby froze, not even breathing. That was a lot easier to do since he got his mental passenger. Whatever had been done inside his body, it certainly made a difference. He had jogged non-stop for three days, day and night. He ate and drank while moving as well. After three whole days of jogging through the dunes, he wasn’t even breathing hard.

A tinny piece of music reached his ears, making him frown. He wasn’t exactly experienced at evading enemy troops, but the idea of them listening to music while they hunted him down seemed strange.

Squinting, he tried to see the shape a little better.

It certainly didn’t look military, with flaking red paint and peeling chrome bodywork. The design was ancient as well. He had seen some like this back on his own planet, but they had been restored. This… this was an old clunker.

Boo!

Colby jumped out of his skin, leaping up and spinning around before he registered the noise was inside his own head. The realization came just as the howling laughter was joined by an animated robot head that appeared in the corner of his vision, little ‘Ha Ha Ha’ speech bubbles rising from it like smoke.

“SHIT!” The clunker swerved sharply before skidding to a stop.

“Asshole!” Colby yelled, grabbing his backpack.

“Who you calling an asshole, you jack-in-a-box prick?” An old man glared out the side of the grav car. It was once a convertible, Colby noted, but those days were long gone. It towed a trailer of some sort along behind it. Scorched parts showed over the battered sides. “I’ll blow your stupid head off if you—”

“Sorry!” Colby raised his hand. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Who else you got back there?” The white-haired, overgrown eyebrows drew down into a worried squint.

“Just a really irritating little pest!” Colby said with feeling.

Oh? Oh, is that right?

Colby felt his left leg go numb, and he slumped against the tree. Raising his hand, he tried to stop himself from falling, only for it to fall uselessly to his side again.

Who’s a pest? Huh? Huh?

“You are, you hitchhiking little git!” Colby growled, thrashing about in the sand.

Nice, nice. Here I am, mending your organs when you’re turned into a wreckage pin cushion, and you call me a pest.

“Give me back my arm, and I’ll carve you out with a fucking rock!” Colby stopped as the old man appeared over him.

“Son, you’ve been out in the sun too long.” He smiled kindly. “Why don’t I get you back to the city and get you looked over?”

“Yes!” Colby snapped, thinking about getting some doctor to cut out his passenger.

Whoa! We jumping right to cutting me out? Seriously? You try and help a guy out!

“Three days of non-stop bitching, and you’re surprised? You paralyzed my entire left side!” Colby muttered as the old man hurried back to the grav car.

No, I didn’t; I just blocked a couple of nerves. Here, let me show you.

Colby’s left arm rose and gave him the finger.

“You can’t do shit like that!” Colby insisted.

Give me one good reason why not.

“Because it makes me want them to cut you out of me!” Colby snarled.

Okay, give me two good reasons!

“Because I fucking said so!” Colby yelled.

Damn!

Feeling returned instantly, and Colby pulled himself up to lean against the tree. What the hell was that?

“You have to do what I say?” Colby smiled.

I can neither confirm nor deny that assertion.

Colby laughed happily.

Fuck you, dude. Fuck you.

“No trying to get me killed. I insist,” Colby said quickly. “Never again.”

I was not trying to get you killed. It was some old guy in a shitty grav car.

“Old people can still carry guns,” Colby hissed.

Legitimately did not think of that. Ooops?

Colby froze. That way of saying oops was very, very Sec.

“Are you Sec? Tell me,” Colby turned to face the tree so he could seem slightly less insane.

I might, slightly, have started off as a copy of a small part of Sec. It’s actually—where’d the old guy go?

“He’s getting the car,” Colby said, thinking quickly. Did he have some kind of Mini-Sec living in his head?

Well, he must have gotten lost because his life signs just vanished from my sensors.

Colby spun round to see the old man lying face down on the sand a couple of feet from the grav car with a bottle of water nearby in a spreading patch of wet sand.

Scrambling over to the old-timer, Colby rolled him over. There were no injuries that he could see. What the hell had happened?

No breathing, no heartbeat, falling body temperature. That’s a corpse, is what that is.

“Fuck!” Colby started to do C.P.R. on the man, trying desperately to remember the last time he took a refresher course.

We saving him or just taking the car?

“Don’t be a dick; he was going to help us.” Colby snapped.

Fine, fine. Just put your good hand on his chest and keep the rest of you away.

“My good hand?” Colby asked.

The one I built, dipshit.

“I really dislike you,” Colby said with a sigh as he did as Buddy asked.

There was a whine and flash before the old man gasped and opened his eyes.

Ta-Dah! One stinky old man for your very own!

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Leaning forward and ignoring the voice, Colby carefully took the man’s pulse, grabbing the half-empty water bottle and helping him sip from it.

“Ow, what cooked my chest?” The man grimaced, pulling his shirt aside to see a hand-shaped burn mark. “What happened?”

“No idea. I looked back, and you were down. I did C.P.R. and got you back, but I think you need to get to a hospital as soon as possible.”

“No kidding?” The man chuckled, “You’re a clever one.” He winced. “On a more serious note. Thank you. Mind driving us back?”

“Can you give me directions? I got turned around out here.” Colby rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Sure, sure.”

The old gar car shook and shivered like a carnival ride, but it kept going. In just under a half-hour, a set of high, ornately carved walls rose ahead of them. The old man directed him to a gate set right at the base. It was clearly not the main gate, which was just fine as far as Colby was concerned.

To his dismay, it was not unguarded, with a half-dozen men and women in uniform hanging around outside.

“Halt! Stand out of the car and—”

“Davey Greggs, you stow that shit and get outta my way!”

Colby tried not to gape as the guard flushed.

“Mick? We told you to stay inside!” Davey snapped, slapping the hood of the old banger as he walked up. “Who’s this?”

“It’s your Dad. He finally stopped running and decided to come home,” Mick sneered. “I had a little fit out there, and this friend of mine got me back safe and sound. So get your lazy ass outta my way.”

“Mick, Mom told you I am a guard now. You have to respect me.”

“Son, anyone who still has their mother come talk to people who upset them is too damn young to be a guard.” Mick shook his head.

“Sarge? Are we stopping these two?” One of the other guards was wandering over. “That looks like scavenged stuff back there.”

“That’s it,” Mick shook his head as he pulled an ancient, scratched datapad out of the glove box. “I’m calling you Mum to come put you down for a nap.”

“You know what, Mick? Just get the fuck out of here.” Davey stood back and waved them through. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but keep better company if you want to make it in this world.”

Colby kept his mouth shut and drove on, Mick still yelling obscenities back at the guards.

“Where is the nearest hospital?” Colby asked Mick, who was looking a little weak and sweaty after the excitement at the gate. “You need a doctor to check you out.”

Mick guided him to one of the city’s more built-up areas, and Colby helped the man inside, making sure they knew he was in serious condition.

“Thanks for this, kid,” Mick grinned weakly. “Maybe I should have stayed home today, eh?”

“Well, you made it back; that’s what counts,” Colby said. “Glad I could help.”

“It’s a bit much to ask, but could you hang around for a while until my daughter gets here?”

“Sure,” Colby said. “That ride saved me a bit of time anyway.”

They took Mick through the back, and Colby grabbed a seat in the corner of the waiting room, grateful for a place to rest. Within ten minutes, he started to nod off, and the next thing Colby knew, someone was shaking him awake.

“They said you came in with my Dad?”

Colby blinked away the sleep from his eyes and tried not to overreact.

Well, we’re dead. It was nice knowing you.

The severe-looking woman standing over him was flanked by two heavily armed soldiers. On her shoulders, she had a pair of silver insignia he didn’t recognize. Not that the rank mattered. She had her own guards, which meant it was a big one.

“Mick’s your Dad?” Colby asked, a little unsure if this was happening or if it was a nightmare. “Old guy, white hair, beat up old banger?”

“That’s my Dad. Is he okay?” She scowled. “Who exactly are you, anyway.”

“He was when they took him back. I haven’t heard anything since then.” Colby said, hoping she would be too distracted to notice he was skipping her second question. “He collapsed on the edge of the forest.”

“Uh-Huh,” She narrowed her eyes for a second before turning to one of her guards. “Keep him here until I get back.”

She turned and stalked off through the doors, ignoring the pleading calls for her to wait, to stop, or to at least let someone escort her.

Oh, look. She has a nice ass.

Colby closed his eyes, sighing. He was going to die with an asshole talking about the relative attractiveness of their executioner. He just knew it.

She returned twenty minutes later, clicking her fingers and pointing at his backpack. Colby went to hand it over, but one of the guards snatched it before he could.

She dug through it for a while before pulling out the datapads and running a wand over them. When she was done, they searched Colby as well.

“Privacy Cordon, sound suppressors, and no looky-loos,” She said, still staring at Colby. In seconds, the guards cleared the waiting area, standing in front of the doors and looking the other way after dropping a pair of orbs on the floor.

This is the end, my fleshy friend. It’s been a short, pointless existence if I am honest but I want you to know… I have regrets. I regret being given to you. There, I said it. Wow, I feel better.

“Pay attention,” The woman snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry,” Colby said, trying to drown out Buddy’s continuing list of regrets.

“You saved my Dad,” She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I was just in the right place,” Colby said quickly. “Anyone would have helped, I’m sure.”

“Mmmm,” She looked over at the guards before sitting down next to Colby, staring ahead as she continued. “Scavenging in times of war is a capital offense. As is smuggling. There are very few good reasons you would be outside the city and wandering around with no Identity Chip on you. Do you want to explain why that was?”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Colby said, keeping as close to the truth as possible, “I was hooking rides to get back to the I.P.A. and kind of got stuck when everything went to hell. I’ve been trying to get to a city since then.”

“That explains the accent,” She nodded. “Good story; I might even believe you.”

“Might?” Colby asked.

“I might. Especially if you can prove you know how to work a ship,” She still wasn’t looking at him.

“No problem there,” Colby smiled earnestly. “I’ve done everything from grease jockey to pilot. Ask me anything.”

“I suppose you just happen to have a good reason for knowing how to shoot as well?”

“Actually, no,” Colby frowned. “I’m not really a weapons guy. Is that important?”

“No, I suppose not,” She looked over at him before taking a small grey chip and running the wand over it. “Name?”

“Jim Colby.”

She waved again, and the chip beeped.

“Identity Chip for one Jim Colby.” She held it out but didn’t let go when Colby reached for it. “Mister Colby, do not make me regret this.”

“Umm, what is ‘this’ exactly?” Colby asked.

She blinked.

“I just gave you an Identity Chip, a real one.” She frowned.

“Will this get me off this planet quicker?” Colby asked hopefully. “Preferably toward’s Ember’s Hearth. That’s the one bordering the Sagacity, right?”

“I thought you were crossing the Confederated planets to get back to the I.P.A.?” She asked sharply.

“No offense, but I would like to get out of this place as soon as possible. I’ll take the longer route home and, you know, live.” He grinned weakly.

The corner of her mouth quirked up a little.

“That’s all you want, huh?” She asked. “Don’t want to look around or anything?”

“No, thank you,” Colby grimaced. “In fact, once I get home, I might never leave again. This has not been a fun experience.”

“So if I put you on a transport for the Sagacity right now?” She asked.

“Seriously?” Colby’s spirits rose dangerously. “Thank you!”

“Okay,” She laughed. “You mean it. Okay, okay. I can’t actually do that.”

“Oh,” Colby deflated.

Teasing little—

“But I can get you on one of the evac ships to Ember if you don’t mind heading out right away.”

Angel of mercy!

“That would be great, thank you,” Colby nodded. “Is Mick okay?”

“The old bastard’ll make it,” She smiled fondly. “Good luck, Mister Colby.”

He was about to ask her name when she whistled sharply and one of the troopers spun and trotted over.

“Trooper, Colby. Colby, Trooper.” She waved her hand back and forth. “Take Mister Colby here and load him onto the next evac to Ember. Report back after it leaves.”

“As you command.”

“Thanks agai—”

“Goodbye, Mister Colby,” She stood up and walked away.

Three hours before waking up, Colby lay back in his bunk as the ancient freighter he had been assigned to lifted clear of the atmosphere, and he felt the slight shudder as they converted to shipboard gravity.

“Buddy, we have to talk,” Colby said quietly. The conversion had been a rush job, and the paper-thin walls surrounding the ‘rooms’ in the cargo bay were no good at keeping sound in.

What’s up, butternut?

“What exactly are you?”

Uh, complicated question there. Technically, I am a virtual identity created by a genius’ somewhat conflicted offspring.

“You’re an AI, like Queen Lucy?” Colby had heard a lot about both the Queens in his time onboard the Mashall’s ship.

Noooo! She is like the tippy-top of the old virtual person pyramid. I am more… How can I explain this? Okay, imagine a really great carv—nope, that won’t work.

Okay, nope. Wait! I got it! Now, someone like Lucy is a whole person. No flesh, but a whole person. With me? She has everything you need to be a person, all contained in one place.

“Alright,” Colby nodded.

Think of something like Sec and the Cents being a personality, plus all the ‘AI’ stuff and the nanite connection. A whole person as well, but a much less complicated version.

“Like a kid is compared to an adult,” Colby suggested.

Actually, sort of. We’ll go with that. Lucy’s the adult, Sec’s the kid. I’m like the AI and Nanite stuff he could put together on his own, but only the most basic personality stuff. More a proto-personality building matrix than an actual one.

“Like a baby compared to a kid,” Colby guessed again, trying to follow along—a really foul mouthed baby.

That actually works, too. I was a baby, and then I was integrated into you. I got my personality then.

“Wait, what?” Colby asked. “You’re nothing like me.”

Yeah, ain’t it grand? I started out pretty basic, so I couldn’t access higher brain functions at install. So, I got the raw, unrefined, subconscious version of you instead.

“Bullshit,” Colby muttered. “So, you’re my subconscious?”

Nope, but I am the real, unrefined you. And you, my friend, are one twisted little fucker. All that shit you think but never say? The stuff you pretend you would never do? All of that… went into making me. I’m the real Colby up in here. You’re basically the evolved version. The refined version. I’m the full fat, all sugar, maximum spice version.

“So the reason you are a foul-mouthed, irritating, sarcastic little dickhead is—”

All you, baby!

“Fuuck,” Colby groaned.

Oh, don’t be like that. You secretly love that I am made from you, you vain little prick!

“If I ever see Sec again, I’m going to beat him to death,” Colby decided.

Hah! If you thought about doing the things to my sister that you want to do with Prim, I’d shove your ass in an escape pod as well.