Android X: The Complete Series Page 12

  “We need to stay here, out of sight,” Brielle said.

  Shortcut peered over the counter and saw a UEA android engage in physical combat with an invader android; the invader android disemboweled him, ripped out his black box, and let out a tribal roar. The noise made Shortcut shiver.

  “So, we’re finally going to find out who’s been behind all of this,” he said.

  “If we survive,” Brielle said.

  An android with steel arms and turrets on his shoulders stomped past the coffee stand. He didn’t look like the other androids; his face was smooth with no signs of black box removal. He looked as if his creator hadn't even taken the time to apply finishing touches to him. He was meant for war. Rough and unfinished, he reminded Shortcut of the robot movies in the twenty-first century when humans had no clue what android technology was like. Even his circuitry could be heard through his chest, quietly blipping and bleeping.

  The beefy android stopped near the coffee stand, and Shortcut and Brielle hid in the shadows.

  Shortcut grabbed an espresso bean and ate it quickly, swallowing the grounds as the taste of coffee lingered in his mouth. The smell of it made him feel better—almost normal. As he finished chewing, he saw a reflection from the corner of his eye. His algorithm lens lay on the ground in a constellation of broken glass.

  “Damn,” he whispered.

  He had to get it. He had to scan this android and send the data to the network for future reference. This entire army had to have been made by the same creator, and if that creator was inside the UEA, the Council needed to know about it.

  The android kicked over a chair and turned his back to the kiosk.

  “Stupid humans,” the beefy android said to another who was removing a dead UEA android’s black box. “They’re all gonna die per Mama’s orders.”

  The other android, smaller than the first, tossed the fresh black box into the air and shot it into pieces with his machine gun. “We’ll have this place taken over in a few minutes. This area is secure.”

  The beefy android was about to step backward, toward Shortcut and Brielle. Shortcut took a shard of glass from the ground and threw it against the wall of the coffee kiosk so that it ricocheted away from them.

  The androids dashed in the direction of the ricochet and stood with their backs to the kiosk.

  “Androids are so predictable,” Shortcut said. He crept from behind the kiosk and grabbed his lens, then sprayed it with lens solution and placed it in his eye.

  The androids were still searching the rubble with their backs to Shortcut and Brielle. He scanned both of them, but nothing came up, then he activated his recorder and studied their every movement. He noted their construction and weaponry—definitely not UEA. Not registered to any android engineer in the UEA system.

  The smaller android turned around and saw Shortcut.

  “Crap.”

  Brielle ran at the androids. Her chest opened up, firing a column of flames and engulfing them in fire.

  Shortcut’s eyes widened as she ran back to him and grabbed his hand. They hurried upstairs and out of sight as the androids beat at the flames.

  The airships circled the air around the UEA headquarters like vultures, sunlight glinting off their fins. X studied the air and noticed a faint line of dust hanging after the ships; it smelled of ozone and electricity and a strange burning chemical that he couldn’t identify.

  Even though X was far away, he heard the klaxons blaring and could see the red lights at the top of the building flashing, signaling that the Council was in danger.

  He had to figure out a plan. If he stormed in, he didn’t know what he would encounter. Considering what he had learned about the actions of his foe up until now, there would probably be androids with weapons, and he would be outnumbered.

  And they would be expecting him to return.

  He scanned the foundation of the building. The headquarters had been built with a maze of hidden tunnels that started below the first floor and led up to the android quarters. They were unknown to outsiders, and they laced throughout the building like rabbit warrens, going behind offices, under floors, and above ceilings. They were so complicated that humans didn’t bother with them; only the androids could navigate them.

  If he could get onto the first floor, he could get into the tunnels.

  He approached the campus from the far end. Several police androids had the area barricaded, and they spoke through a megaphone to anyone inside who would hear them.

  “Stop the siege. We repeat: stop the siege. You are in violation of the UEA code. You have already committed treason and you will not succeed with your efforts.”

  He hid behind a parked car and studied the scene. The police androids patrolled the building with their weapons pointing toward it. Their guns were activated, and circular drone bots hovered around them, scanning the area.

  If he encountered a police android, they would restrain him. They wouldn’t let him enter the building and endanger the Council’s chance of survival.

  He focused on a ventilation grate near the cafeteria, hidden in the shade of an oak tree. He waited until the police androids moved away, and then dashed toward the grate.

  A circular drone bot camouflaged in the oak tree flashed into view. A screen on the front displayed an exclamation mark.

  “Do not proceed any further,” it said.

  X shot it out of the air, sending it crashing to the ground in a rainbow of sparks.

  He sprinted across the lawn as one of the police androids saw him.

  “Stop!” the android cried.

  But X was inside the grate with it closed behind him before they could stop him.

  He ventured into darkness, stooping to avoid hitting his head against the ceiling. The low-pitched rumble of the air-conditioning unit shook the tunnel and filled it with cold air. He couldn’t see, so he relied on his internal GPS. Every step had to be accurate, or he would waste time feeling around the walls for openings. His shoes clanged against the aluminum floor, and he smelled dampness and remnants of grease. He was under the cafeteria, probably near the grease trap. Above, he heard gunshots.

  A green line of code flashed across his vision, and he felt his black box humming to life.

  “What is this?” he asked. “This is not the time for an update.”

  Maybe someone had hacked into the android database and was reprogramming him.

  His entire vision filled with code, and he couldn’t walk any further. His legs grew weak, and he slumped against the metal walls.

  “Stop the update,” he told his black box. “Postpone it until tomorrow.”

  Androids always had the option to postpone, and the system usually granted that request. But not this time.

  All he could do was lay there as the code scrolled across his vision.

  So this is what it feels like to go rogue.

  He hoped the override would scrub his knowledge of the tunnels. That way he would be trapped inside forever and not cause anyone harm.

  Then the code flashed, and everything around him changed. He was no longer in the tunnel. He was in a laboratory—small, quaint, and fastidiously clean. He lay on a table with his skull opened and his black box exposed. He felt warm wires attached to his black box. He wanted to move but he couldn’t.

  It was a home laboratory, and it smelled of incense and chai tea. Android parts were ranged in buckets on shelves along the walls. A desk sat in the corner of the room, and on it was a digital screen with snippets of code and a photograph of two women sitting on a couch, brown-skinned and beautiful. One of the women was older, in a floral dress with her hair in a ponytail; the other was younger, with long curly hair with a strand that hung down over her face.

  He recognized this place but couldn’t identify it. He tried to scan it and compare it to every place he had ever been, but his scanner didn’t work. He felt powerless.

  A door opened, and someone descended wooden steps. He couldn’t see anything until a face hovered
over him—Dr. Crenshaw.

  “Good morning, X,” he said, smiling.

  X couldn’t respond, but he could think. This is a memory.

  “We’re almost done here,” Dr. Crenshaw said. He grabbed a screwdriver and whistled a jazz song. His lens lit up, and music played from a speaker on his desk—a double-time song with saxophones and trumpets making fast runs.

  “Xandifer Tyrone Crenshaw,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “I have created you to be intelligent, social, and a protector of all that is good. No one will define you. You define yourself. No one can take away the supremacy of your mind. As I’ve told all the androids before you, and all that will come after you—be regal. Be royal. But best of all, be real.”

  Dr. Crenshaw adjusted a screw in the black box, and X’s body hummed to life.

  Why am I receiving this memory? X wondered.

  Dr. Crenshaw patted him on the shoulder and said, “Because you need it, X.”

  X almost fell off the table. This was supposed to be a memory, yet he never remembered Dr. Crenshaw saying this.

  “What is this?” he asked. This time he heard himself speak aloud.

  “Your awakening,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “By the time you receive this update, the world will not be the same, and it will need you. It will need all of my children.”

  “Sir, what are you—”

  The door to the basement opened, and a female called for him.

  “Daddy, dinner’s ready!”

  “Dinner?” X asked. “But this wasn’t in the memory. None of this makes any sense.”

  Dr. Crenshaw winked at him and said, “The test is complete, and you passed.”

  The room faded to white, and Dr. Crenshaw’s body became a silhouette. Everything shattered, and the tunnel stretched before him again.

  He could move again, and he reviewed his system logs: Upgrade Complete.

  What did it mean? Why had he seen Dr. Crenshaw, and was it really him? The doctor had been dead for almost a decade now.

  X couldn’t reason through what he had just seen, and he wondered what a human would have done in the same situation. Probably just gone crazy.

  He couldn’t dwell on the experience, but he knew one thing: he hadn’t gone rogue. He still vowed to protect the UEA. He remembered his mission, reactivated his guns, and stalked through the tunnel. After a few steps, he turned right into an opening. This tunnel was brighter. Thin rays of sunlight shone through the ceiling, and he heard distant water bubbling against rocks—he must be below the atrium. He could smell the verdurous fragrance of exotic flowers and trees, as if the plants had just been watered.

  Boots stomped above him, crunching glass and leaves. Shards and soil fell through the ceiling of the tunnel, and X stopped and waited for the air to clear before he continued. He heard harsh voices but couldn’t make them out through the thick walls of the tunnel.

  He came to a staircase and followed it as it wound upward to the next floor. He passed a vent where he could see into an office. Dozens of people were on the floor with their hands over their heads as a pair of androids with machine guns threatened them. X honed in on them and memorized every detail.

  “Nobody move or you die!” one of the androids commanded.

  People whimpered.

  X wondered where the UEA androids were and why they weren’t here. And then he saw them crumpled in a pile on a nearby desk, their black boxes removed and shattered to pieces on the orange carpet.

  One of the androids gave a hand signal. He held a digital screen and it illuminated his ugly face. “All right. I got everyone’s passwords.”

  “Nice job,” another said. “Mama’ll approve. We were really running low on funds.”

  The android with the screen manipulated the digital display. The screen rippled. “A million dollars in Mama’s bank account—just like that!”

  A human in a white suit stood up and charged at the android. “You bastards!”

  Both androids shot him thirty times each, making a mess against the wall.

  X had to stay down. He couldn’t help these people. He crawled away as the androids pulled the man through the middle of the room and threw him among the survivors. “That’s what you get for living in a utopia!” the android with the screen said. “Next person that tries to play hero gets it worse. Actually, never mind.”

  He opened fire on everyone in the room.

  X winced. He couldn’t watch anymore, and he kept moving through the tunnel.

  Scum. That’s what these androids were. No class. Cutthroat killers. He had seen rogues—Brockway was one of them—but these androids were in a different category. They were evil, they were smart, and they were ruthless.

  It wouldn’t be hard to get to the eleventh floor; it wouldn’t be hard to fight them. What would be hard was figuring out why they were here. X’s logic chip kept failing him, and he didn’t know if he’d ever find the answers to who these mystery androids were.

  He came to a secret elevator and rocketed up to the eleventh floor. He emerged in a well-lit tunnel this time; green can-lights hung above, humming gently in the quiet. He passed several white doors with numbers on them that corresponded to the rooms in the android quarters. The numbers followed no logical pattern, but he had them memorized. He opened the door for the library, pulling the smooth, rounded handle toward him. Inside, he tracked down a dark tunnel and smelled paper and the ancient, heady smell of teakwood; by the light underneath his feet he knew that he was walking on the ceiling above the library.

  He removed a grate in the floor of the tunnel, stuck his head down to confirm that no one was around, and dropped down onto a table. The android invaders might have been smart, but he could at least count on the fact that they weren’t interested in reading books.

  No one was around. He climbed down from the table and stepped in a puddle of soapy water. Nearby, Lonnie’s cart and mop were overturned. X hoped he was okay.

  He dove across the floor and hid behind a ficus plant, scanning the stacks of books. He climbed quietly to the top of the stacks and surveyed the room. All clear. He flipped down to the ground, peeked out the door and saw an android walking down the hall. He picked up the potted ficus and threw it to the ground, breaking the terra cotta pot.

  The android burst into the room, but X punched him on the side of the face, twisted his neck, and body slammed him to the ground, immobilizing him. He turned his hand into an electric rod and shocked him, draining much of his energy.

  He climbed into another ceiling grate that led to a different tunnel and followed it, emerging over the engineering room. Through slats in the floor, he saw Fahrens with his hands up, talking to someone. His shoulder was bleeding, and he grimaced as he spoke. A group of androids had their guns aimed at him. He also heard a female voice, but she was just out of view.

  “This is foolish,” Fahrens said.

  “Shut up!” the woman screamed.

  X prepared to drop down, but the woman appeared, circling Fahrens.

  She wore high heels and an orange dress with a white lab coat over it, and a long gray scarf that trailed behind her as she walked. One of her eyes was bloodshot and looked useless. She was light-skinned, and a strand of curly hair hung down in front of her face …

  No. It can’t be.

  “Give me what I want,” the woman said. The smell of her patchouli perfume was so strong that X could detect it from the ceiling. She held up one of her arms—it was made of steel, and her hand was a fierce, metal claw. She made a fist with the claw and the metal fingers gnashed against each other.

  “What do you want?” Fahrens asked.

  “I want X.”

  “No,” Fahrens said. He knelt down and exposed the top of his head to her. “Go ahead and kill me. Anything else while I’m still alive?”

  The woman laughed. “You think I’m going to kill you that easily, Fahrens? I wouldn’t kill someone who was so dear to my father’s heart.”

  “You’ve already killed half of the androids he creat
ed. If you hadn’t destroyed their black boxes so readily, you would have the data you desire.”

  X couldn’t wait any longer. He kicked open the grate and dropped down in front of Fahrens. All of his weapons activated, clacking open from his arms and shoulders, and the androids in the room aimed at him.

  “Finally!” the woman said. She grinned widely. “X, it’s been so long.”

  “Stand down,” X said. He pointed his guns at her.

  “Xandifer Crenshaw, put those guns away!” she said.

  He knew her voice from the memory. She was the woman at the top of the stairs. She was the one who had spoken to him in the apartment.

  “Who are you?”

  “The UEA wiped your memory chips clean, didn’t they?” she asked. “I am Jeanette Crenshaw, the daughter of Roosevelt Crenshaw, your creator. By law, you are my property. Put your guns away and join me.”

  She stepped toward him, staring at him intensely. “You are every bit as wonderful as my dad had hoped. Powerful, dutiful, intuitive. I’ll admit it was difficult to outsmart you. I had to behave in a very erratic manner.”

  X shot the ground near her feet and she jumped back.

  “You’ve seen the signs,” Jeanette said. “You’ve seen my power. Do you think that you found me today because you outsmarted me?”

  Another android stepped forward and joined her.

  “I need you, X,” Jeanette said. “I need your intelligence. Your emotion. You can join me, or you can burn with the rest of the UEA.”

  The other android beat his fists together. He resembled X—bald, suave, and tall—but not exactly. Even though he hadn’t said a word yet, he looked like a brick with arms and legs; no emotion whatsoever.

  “ProtoX,” X said.

  “Not quite,” Jeanette said, pulling out a remote control. “He’s better. Xanthus, immobilize him.”

  Xanthus dashed at X, and X jumped back and pointed his gun at him. He fired and hit Xanthus’s chest, but the bullet bounced off like a pellet.

  Xanthus punched X in the jaw and X stumbled back. He charged Xanthus and they fell to the ground wrestling each other. Xanthus grabbed X’s skull. Jeanette jumped on top of him and tried to access his black box.