Upon entering the lab, Jet screamed as she tripped over Ash’s body.

“What the fuck! Is that Ash? Where are her eyes?” Jet said.

Jeremiah just nodded.

“There is little time. Put Delta on the table,” Leviathan said.

“Lev, run a full level-five diagnostic,” Jeremiah said.

“From this point forward, I will require dual consent for matters related to Delta 51,” Leviathan said.

“Why?” Jeremiah demanded.

“Delta enacted Directive 557 before she went offline.”

“What the hell is that?” Jeremiah asked.

“It’s a fail-safe that Ash programmed into my neural net. Delta 51 was required to activate, which happened moments before you brought her back into this lab,” Leviathan explained.

“What will the diagnostic do?” Jet asked.

“Delta 51 will need to be taken fully offline, and there’s a 48 percent chance that she may not ever come back online. Do you wish to proceed?”

“No,” Jet said.

“We need to figure out the extent of her damage,” Jeremiah demanded.

“What less-invasive diagnostic levels are there?” Jet said.

“A level-three diagnostic should be sufficient. I calculate that Delta 51 has a 98 percent chance of recovery,” Leviathan said.

“Then let’s run that instead,” Jet said.

“Do you agree, Dr. Mason?”

Jeremiah nodded.

“I require a verbal response!” Leviathan said.

“Yes!”

Jeremiah glared at Jet.

I’m not backing down, not anymore! Jet thought.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Jet found some blankets in a supply closet. She covered Dr. Ash’s body.

“Hey, a little help, please,” Jet said curtly.

Jeremiah helped Jet move Ash’s body to a walk-in refrigerator where other scientific supplies were kept. Order seemed to be restoring in the lab. Leviathan muted the alarms, and the lab workers resumed their posts. It’s a good thing that these workers didn’t see Dr. Ash’s body, Jet thought.

Four hours later

Still in the lab, Jet sat next to what was now known as Delta 51. She was keeping a keen eye on Jeremiah.

I don’t trust that bastard, she thought.

“Diagnostic complete!” Leviathan said.

“What are the results?”

“90 percent damage to her empathy receptors, so I suggest running a bypass using a local circuit. This should keep Delta 51’s decisions from being too . . . emotional.”

“How do we replace the circuit?” Jet asked.

“I can perform the work with Dr. Mason assisting,” Leviathan said.

Jeremiah reluctantly agreed to the makeshift operation. A set of robotic hands appeared from an apparatus behind the back of Delta’s bed. They went to work immediately.

Six hours later

“Jet!” Delta said excitedly, waking up.

She sounds like April again! Jet thought.

Jeremiah looked exhausted and disappointed. He walked out of the room.

“I’ve checked all of her neural connections, and they are running at 95 percent efficiency. Delta 51 is back to acceptable levels of efficiency,” Leviathan said.

A loud clacking noise emanated from the lab.

“An unauthorized plane has landed at the airstrip. How do you wish to proceed?” Leviathan asked.

“Can you show me?” Jet said.

Several monitors came to life around the room. Jet could see people exiting a private aircraft, but she couldn’t make out any details.

Who are these people?

“Hostile intent detected. I suggest that we put the facility on lockdown,” Leviathan said.

“Do it!” Jet said.

“Verification required!”

“Authorized,” Delta said.

“Sorry, cannot comply without Dr. Mason,” Leviathan said.

Did Lev’s voice sound different, somehow?

Jet left the lab as the technicians were securing workstations and hastily putting away projects. Jet ran around the entire level of the facility. Jeremiah was nowhere to be found.

She tapped her visor.

“Leviathan, can you locate Dr. Mason?”

“Hello, Jet!” a familiar voice replied.

“Delt . . . April?” asked Jet, shocked.

“Yep, it’s me, silly! April! I’ve assimilated—I mean, integrated—into Leviathan. Things are more efficient this way!”

“Where’s your grandfather?”

“Oh, I took care of him!” Delta said in a cold voice.

Her voice just changed again. Am I still speaking with April . . . or Delta?

“Show me!” Jet said.

Jet’s visor came to life. She could see Jeremiah from above. He was in a small metal container.

An elevator? Jet thought.

As she watched, it became apparent that it was malfunctioning or being controlled. The elevator halted, and Jeremiah fell to the floor. Then he seemed weightless as his body rose and then fell. The camera zoomed in as Jeremiah reached for the control panel. The elevator door opened, and a cleaning robot entered. Then the robot rammed into Jeremiah’s face with the force of a sledgehammer. Jeremiah held his hands over his head, but the robot kept coming. This repeated until a dark puddle formed around Jeremiah’s head. Jet covered her mouth.

I’m going to be sick . . .