Chapter 33
“THAT’S A LION, AZURE.”
“I am aware.”
“A really big lion.”
“Technically my really big lion.” I continue to shield my face from the torrential rain, and flash a falsely confident smile up at the miniature drone that allows Atti to see what’s going on.
“Does he know that?”
I watch the massive bio—Richard, Jasa called it?—pad toward us out of the whipping, windswept forest. Not hurried, but not exactly relaxed, either. The drenching deluge lashes at the creature, but its gaze remains very much fixed on me. “I’m about to tell him.”
“Oh. Well. This will go just fine, then.”
I ignore the AI as thunder rolls across the rain-glistening, thrashing forest, which I can see clearly only thanks to my ocular revs. I keep all the rest of them tightly active, and put my hands up and outward in a supplicating pose. “Hey, Richard. Remember me?”
The lion growls, lip curling back to show its very large and very sharp teeth. It meets my eyes. At my eye height. I’d forgotten how damned big it is.
Thunder cracks again.
“I know. Your master’s not here. She’s… um… not here,” I continue, raising my voice slightly to make sure it carries through the downpour. I have no idea how much these things understand. Hesitation? Tone? I have to be careful. “But you do remember you’re not supposed to kill me, right?”
The lion stops, and very slowly, its snarl eases to a cold stare.
“Great. Good. Good lion.” I shield my eyes from the rain again.
The storm’s a Cat 3, according to Atti, but we’re on the very edge: I’ll have to watch out for falling trees, but otherwise, being out here shouldn’t be a problem.
“So there is going to be someone coming out of the house soon. Another bio, but it will look exactly like me. Except… no left hand.” I demonstrate by briefly popping my hand into my sleeve and waggling it around.
“Oh, yes. No formal analysis needed. This is going to work perfectly,” says Atti in my ear.
I ignore her. It does feel stupid, but Jasa spoke to it like a person.
Like a child. There were no codes, no activation phrases.
“Your master—Jasa—is in danger from this bio. I’ve lured it here because it’s stronger than me, much stronger, but I think you and your…
friends… can probably kill it. Can you help me? ”
The enormous lion just sits there in the driving rain, considering, for a long time. I probably look like a drowned rat to it, at this point. A very, very nervous drowned rat.
“Say ‘please,’ Azure. Don’t forget to be polite,” chastises Atti.
“I’ll lead it into the forest,” I press to the bio. “As deep as I can. Just give me a direction.” Suddenly there’s a rumble, the ground beneath us trembling. Behind us, the house quivers, and then dust and debris jettison out the front door. “See?” I add, gesturing. “It’s here.”
The lion gives what I can only interpret as an irritated huff, and turns and heads back into the wildly shifting shadows.
“I think he wants me to go with him,” I whisper after a moment.
“I think he wants to eat you,” whispers Atti.
I shoot the drone an annoyed look.
“But I know Faux-zure wants to kill you, so… be careful, I guess.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes, remove the earpiece, seal it in a Faraday pouch, and glance toward the door of the house. Almost a kilometre away.
It’s less than two minutes of very damp waiting later that I spot it coming out. Missing hand evident even at this distance. I resist the urge to wave again.
The Dupe sees me and sprints without hesitation.
Damn, but it’s fast.
I sigh, and hurry through the torrent after the lion.
The forest is thunderous with wind ripping through branches and rain crashing on leaves as I slip through it all.
I head in the same direction as the lion disappeared, but can’t see any sign of it.
I’ll leave some evidence of my passing, inevitably, thanks to the muddy ground, but the Dupe will have to slow down to make sure it’s not a false trail, or I’m not planning an ambush.
By the time it catches up, I should be deep enough into the EMP ring that it will have a hard time retreating from what I hope will be a somewhat coordinated attack.
There’s no reason it will know about the advanced bios out here—not the number, strength, or intelligence of them. Or that they’ll be able to distinguish between the two of us.
Although to be fair, I’m still not entirely convinced I know that last part, either.
For the first couple of minutes, I’m a little worried Jasa’s pets have decided to just abandon me: I’m moving with careful purpose, and with all my revs active, even through the storm, I should be able to pick up anything nearby.
But then, a little disconcertingly, there’s a flash of dissonant movement through the trees parallel to me.
Shadow on shadow. Comfortably keeping pace without ever fully showing itself.
Then there’s another, on the opposite side. Then something big in the trees above, managing to flit along from branch to branch despite the way the gale lashes them around. And finally, barely audible in the rare lulls of the wind, a really unsettling slithering in the wet grass nearby.
Five minutes in and, through the pelting rain, I’m accompanied by a near-invisible cloud of half-imagined movement and whispered sound.
“Well this… isn’t… creepy,” I pant to myself, straining to determine both how many bios are with me, and what types.
The damned snakes, obviously. Maybe one or two of those panthers.
I can’t tell if any of the massive owl-things, the Heds, are above; the high winds tonight might well have grounded them, but I hope not.
Those claws were no joke. And revs or no revs, my Dupe’s not going to have a lot of answers to being dropped from three hundred metres up.
After ten more very unpleasantly soggy minutes of slogging through the dark and the pounding rain, I make it to the top of a particularly deep ravine.
Carefully position myself so that I’ll be reasonably obvious, but also far enough from any cover that the Dupe won’t be able to circle around and take me by surprise, if it spots me first. Around me, the non-storm-related movement of the forest vanishes, the bios apparently guessing what I’m doing and taking up positions of their own.
Or they’ve just failed to realise I’ve stopped, and kept on going without me. Again, no way to tell.
I expect a few minutes of waiting, once I’m in position. I have less than one.
Alert as I am, the Dupe is loping into sight almost before I realise it’s coming.
No audible warning above the storm; suddenly it’s just there, darting along below, moving lithely around bushes and over dead foliage in smooth, silent motion.
Ceramic clutched in its only hand. Its blue eyes scan constantly from side to side.
They slide up to me, standing motionless on the ridge thirty metres away.
“Hi,” I call down, holding up a hand.
Its Ceramic grazes my shoulder, only my active revs allowing me to dodge even that much.
I glare down, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Really? Can we at least try talking?”
Below, the Dupe hesitates. “What would I talk with you about, abomination?” it yells up over the howling wind. I shiver a little at how familiar the voice is. How familiar all of it is, actually. This must be what it feels like to have a psychotic break.
“I mean, I’d like to think we could find some common ground,” I yell back.
It bares its teeth, apparently not appreciating the joke, and starts walking closer.
“I’m just a little confused,” I continue with the awkward shout-conversation. “Why do you think I’m the abomination?”
“You know why!”
“Okay, sure. I think I know why you think it. I also just think you’ve got it the wrong way around.”
Its expression, if possible, darkens further. “I think I’ll just kill you!”
“You can try.” I smile cheerfully down. “Need a hand up?”
The Dupe bends its legs, and jumps.
It happens in a moment and even with my revs active, I’m so startled, so disbelieving, that I don’t react for a full second. It’s a ten metre cliff and the Dupe takes it in a single smooth leap. Lands no more than a few metres away on the ridge before turning to face me.
“Oh,” I say.
It runs at me.
I backpedal. Revs screaming as it flies in for a strike that I barely knock aside, and when I do, sends a shivering ricochet down my arm. Less like deflecting a punch and more like deflecting a train, only my pain dampening allowing me to not overreact to the impact.
The next several seconds pass in something approaching alarm as I dodge and dodge and block and then, realising how painful blocking is against the Dupe’s revs, dodge again.
Barely. The thing is so fast and so strong and for the first time in a very, very long time, even with all my revs active, I feel distinctly disadvantaged.
Finally the Dupe breaks off its attacks and I back away. We’re both breathing hard. At least I’m not making it easy, even if I am, unfortunately, definitely losing.
Is this what it’s like for normal people to fight me? Damn. It’s awful.
On the other hand, at least I’m not alone.
“Everyone: NOW!” I yell it urgently it above the howling wind, stabbing a finger toward the Dupe. It freezes, tenses, swivels warily. A second passes. Two, as I continue to stand there and point emphatically in the driving rain.
Five.
I slowly lower my hand again. “Any moment,” I assure the Dupe wearily. Damn it. Its attention slowly returns to me, and it shakes its head in disgust. “You truly are a second-rate copy of—”