Reactivated (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 1) Read online

“That’s what I meant,” Eagleeye replied on the same channel.

  “Hold for now,” Marlborough said.

  The thick door slid open.

  Standing outside was a man dressed in a military uniform. His dark hair was cut into a buzz hairstyle. His face was boyish and blemish free, likely perfected by rejuvenetics.

  Eric ran an ID. He got back the public profile of a Lieutenant Gregory Arnold. He was a platoon commander assigned to the army depot just outside town.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Hanley’s replacement,” Marlborough said.

  “I didn’t know Hanley had been replaced,” Traps said.

  Arnold stepped inside. “Lieutenant Hanley retired five years ago,” he said. “I took over his job overseeing the local Mind Refurb platoon.”

  “Why do I have a feeling that having this guy here can’t be good?” Crusher said.

  Arnold smiled patiently. “I’m here to get you out.”

  “Well damn, why didn’t you say so!” Slate said, standing. “You’re my new best friend.” He tried to wrap an arm around Arnold’s neck, but the limb passed right through. “Shit! Holograms.”

  Eric glanced at the entrance beyond the cell, and saw the small two-legged robot responsible for generating the image. That same robot had also sourced the footsteps, of course.

  “He’s an AI?” Mickey said.

  “No, bitch,” Slate said. “The robot is too small to hold an AI core.”

  “I’m human,” Arnold said. “I was simply unable to leave the base at the moment. So I chose a more unconventional means of contacting you, considering that you’re not currently authorized to access VR.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Dunnigan said. “It’s a basic human right that all prisoners must be given access to VR. This is a violation of those rights.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Arnold said. “You’re Mind Refurbs. Not humans. The charter of rights is slightly different for you.”

  “So, you say you’re here to get us out.” Slate told him. “What are these bitches holding us for anyway?”

  “Possession of illegal weapons,” Arnold replied. “And firing those weapons.”

  “But we saved the apartment block!” Tread said. “Taking down enemy combatants!”

  “It doesn’t matter if they were enemy combatants or peaceful civilians,” Arnold said. “The law applies equally.”

  He paused to let that sink in.

  “But since you literally saved the day by blowing up that transport, the police are willing to throw away the charges if you agree to be released into my custody,” Arnold finished.

  “Well, I guess we have no choice,” Marlborough said. “And what do you want from us in exchange?”

  “You’ll join me at the local army depot,” Arnold said. “To listen to a proposition I have to make.”

  “And if we don’t agree to this proposition of yours?” Marlborough pressed.

  “Then I let you go,” Arnold told him. “You have my word. Hanley was an honorable man, as am I. He agreed to let you live out your days as free Mind Refurbs in exchange for saving the Earth from the alien mothership. I won’t violate that agreement if you refuse.”

  “Well, good,” Marlborough said. “Then I think we can go to this base of yours, and listen to what you have to say.”

  “Thank you,” Arnold said.

  “Before we do, I want to know who the hell the bastards that attacked us were,” Dickson said. “They went straight to all of our suites. Ransacked them all. Why?”

  “They were looking for you, obviously,” Arnold said.

  “But why?” Dickson said. “And why ransack everything?”

  “Maybe they thought they might find spare AI cores...” Arnold said.

  “That still doesn’t explain what they wanted from us,” Crusher said.

  “They wanted to kill you,” Arnold said. “They’re an extremist group known as the Tal Shahar.”

  “Sounds like the Tal Shiar from Star Trek,” Frogger said.

  “Uh, yeah,” Arnold said, obviously having no idea what a twenty-first century show like Star Trek even was, let alone the reference to the elite Romulan intelligence agency. But it did make Eric smile, if only momentarily.

  “They hate all Mind Refurbs,” Arnold continued. “Think they’re abominations. They want to hunt them all down and terminate them. We haven’t figured out who their leader is, all we know is they maintain a loose web of sleeper cells throughout North America that are ready to activate at a moment’s notice when former Mind Refurbs such as yourselves are discovered among the civilian population. You would have been quite the kill prize for them, seeing as how you’re the most famous Mind Refurbs out there.”

  “Does this proposition of yours involve hunting down these extremists?” Dickson asked.

  “No,” Arnold replied. “We’ve got other hunter killer teams capable of handling them. Yours will be a more… specialized operation.”

  “And you won’t tell us what that is until we reach the army depot,” Marlborough said.

  “That’s right,” Arnold said. “The contents are sensitive, and the AIs that run jails are the prying type, if you know what I mean.”

  Marlborough glanced at the team, and then shrugged. “All right, Bolt Eaters, you heard the man. Our ticket out of here is a quick visit to an army depot, and then a ride home when we say no.”

  “Somehow I suspect you won’t refuse what I offer,” Arnold said with a knowing smile.

  “We’ll see about that,” Marlborough retorted.

  6

  Eric sat at the rear of the autonomous bus with Bambi and Crusher at his side. He watched the skyscrapers of the metropolis pass by through the windows until the vehicle left town, at which point he gazed at the fields of crops and cattle for a short while. Most people lived in the city these days, while robot farmers handled the raising of livestock and the collection of crops. Bees didn’t exist—small, insect-like drones handled pollination of fruit-bearing trees. He could sometimes see them when he zoomed in on the blossoms of the apple farms.

  Occasionally an augmented reality signboard popped up amid the fields, overlaying his vision with ads for fresh honey, apples, or berries. The honey was manufactured as a byproduct of the nectar collected by the pollination drones. Raw nectar was also sold in jars; he’d heard it was very sweet stuff, at least for humans, but unfortunately to his android taste buds it came off as rather bland. Bambi promised to mimic it sometime in VR, but so far she hadn’t been able to reproduce anything remotely palatable. Eric would have given it a shot himself, but he had no idea how it was supposed to taste.

  Finally he grew bored of watching the fields and shifted his attention to the interior of the bus. A pair of military robots stood guard next to each of the bus’s two entrances—Arnold’s idea. Apparently the lieutenant was afraid the team might try to escape before reaching the depot, but he had to have known that if the Bolt Eaters really wanted to get out, four robots wouldn’t have stopped them, even if those Bolt Eaters were unarmed.

  “A ride home,” Traps muttered from the seat ahead of Eric.

  Eric leaned forward “What was that?”

  Traps glanced askance at him. “Sarge mentioned a ride home. ‘A quick visit to an army depot, and then a ride home when we say no.’ But what home was Sarge talking about? There’s no home for us, not anymore. We can’t go back there.”

  “No, bitch,” Slate said. “We’ll rent another place. It’s not that hard.”

  Marlborough nodded. “That’s what I meant.”

  “You know, I kinda agree with Traps here,” Frogger said. “There’s nothing for us here. The humans hate us, that’s obvious. I mean, just look at our daily interactions. Everyone’s friendly, at first, until they find out we’re androids. Then things go downhill. They become so much more guarded. Like we’re going to punch through their heads any second.”

  “Dude, that’s why you don’t tell them you’re an android!” Slate said. “We’v
e all tweaked our public profiles to hide the fact, after all.”

  “Yes,” Frogger said. “But only because we didn’t want anyone finding out we were responsible for saving the world. But I still tell people, when they comment on how youthful I look, or how handsome I am.”

  “Then don’t,” Slate said.

  “But that feels like living a lie,” Frogger said.

  “I can agree with that,” Eric said. “But then again, I don’t interact with the general public very often. And as for girls, I’m already taken.” He wrapped his arms around the shoulders of Bambi and Crusher.

  “Back to your point, Frogger,” Slate said. “Sure, I agree, tell the people you meet that you’re an android eventually. Just hold back the timing of the reveal. For example, I only tell chicks I’m an android after I bed ‘em. Works like a charm. I used to have the biggest problem getting rid of chicks after I climaxed. Now, I just say I’m an android, open up my face to give them proof, and bam! Fastest way to get them out of my bed, and my life.”

  “The attack from these Tal Shahar extremists tells us everything we need to know,” Traps said. “It shows us how humanity really feels about us.”

  “The Tal Shahar aren’t representative of the whole of humanity,” Dickson said. “They’re an extremist fringe group.”

  “Still, I think Traps and Frogger are on to something,” Crusher said. “I know I can feel the eyes on me when people find out I’m an android. And those eyes aren’t all that friendly. From the men, I get the sense they think I’m some sort of sex toy, something they can easily dominate. From the women, I get nothing but hate, for the same reason—they consider me competition, someone who steals all the real men away from them.”

  “Well, however you all feel,” Frogger said. “I still think we should accept whatever proposition this Arnold has in mind. And make ourselves useful again. I’m sick of living out my days bored in my room, with the highlight of my day being the battle sessions we stage in VR.”

  “Let’s wait until we hear what Arnold has to say first, shall we?” Dickson said.

  “I got a question,” Hicks said. “What’s to stop these Tal Shahar from hunting us down again, even if we move to a new home? They got our faces ID’d now.”

  “We change our faces,” Crusher said. “And identities, of course.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Mickey said. “Women change their face every day.”

  “No we don’t,” Bambi said.

  “Yes you do,” Mickey said. “In VR, girls are always assuming different avatars. Wearing weird animal props like rabbit ears and crap like that. And in reality, they’re always putting on different makeup, and tweaking their hair color.”

  “That’s not the same as changing one’s face,” Bambi said. “And VR doesn’t count, because it’s not real.”

  “Then this doesn’t count either,” Mickey said, indicating his own face. “Because it’s not real either. We have no real form, not anymore. Everything is fluid.”

  “No, no, no,” Slate said. “You both are wrong.” He tapped his face. “This is real. There’s nothing fake about it. So what if we can change it, if we wanted to? It’s not so different than ordinary humans, who simply make a trip to their local plastic surgeon when they want to tweak something about themselves.”

  “I’m not changing my face,” Brontosaurus said. “If we turn down the mission, and find a new apartment building for ourselves, I’ll just wear a hoodie whenever I leave home.”

  “You’re assuming we’d be living in the same apartment building if we did,” Dunnigan said. “For safety reasons, it might be better to live in different apartments going forward.”

  “Screw that,” Slate said. “Y’all my bros. And I’m sticking with my bros.” He glanced at Bambi and Crusher and winked. “And my hos of course.”

  “Don’t call them your hos,” Eric said warningly.

  Slate raised both palms defensively. “Hey, settle down, bro. I was only speaking metaphorically.”

  Eric glanced at Bambi. “You want me to kick his ass?”

  Slate tensed as Bambi gave him an appraising look. She smirked. “No.”

  Eric looked at Crusher. “What about you?”

  Crusher shrugged. “I don’t see the point of messing up the bus right now. Or his face.”

  Slate relaxed visibly. “As if he could kick my ass.”

  “Barring the ho comment, I agree with Slate: I wouldn’t want to live in a separate apartment building either,” Eric said. “Nor change my face. My face is my identity. Part of what makes me who I am.”

  “I don’t think I could stand it if you did change it,” Bambi said. She pinched his cheek, and he frowned. “I’ve grown rather fond of this face.”

  “As have I,” Crusher said, pinching the other cheek. “I especially love sitting on it.” It almost sounded like she was purring, and Eric couldn’t help but swallow.

  “Ooo, they’re so fun to watch!” Slate said. “This is some classic shit!”

  “You say you’ve grown fond of his face,” Mickey told her. “But you were the one who suggested we could change our faces in the first place!”

  Crusher shrugged. “I was excluding Scorpion from the comment.”

  Slate smirked when he heard that, and then leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and kicking up his feet. “You know, Scorp, I don’t know how you’ve kept it going for twenty years, having two girls like that. And I’m not sure why you’d want to, either. You must be either crazy or gifted. Maybe a little of both. Myself, I’d never tie myself down to any one woman, let alone two. So I’m leaning toward the crazy side.”

  “What’s the matter, can’t handle your pussy?” Eagleeye said.

  “Dude, I can handle pussy just fine, don’t you worry,” Slate said. “You on the other hand, well that’s a different story. You probably don’t even know what pussy is.” His voice became higher pitched as he gave a mock Eagleeye impression. “‘Hey guys! What’s pussy? Where can I get some? The pet store? Oh, I wish I knew! I’ve always wondered what a real girl looks like naked. I’ve tried VR porn, but I don’t understand it. All those floppy, juicy body parts moving all around, just waiting for my touch. Where oh where do I put my tiny little dong? Maybe one of those cracks underneath the nose? Oh wait, no, no. That’s the nostrils! But my dong is so small it fits, so I’m confused!’”

  “Great impression of your younger self,” Eagleeye said. “So what is it then? Why wouldn’t you get with two women?”

  “I never said I wouldn’t get with them,” Slate told him. “I said I’d never tie myself down to them. And that’s the difference: I like variety.”

  “Well, do the same girls in virtual reality then,” Eagleeye said. “Or get a pair of android girls, like Scorpion. Then you can change their faces up every day if you want.”

  “I think I’ll stick with normal girls, bro,” Slate said. “I guess I’m just traditional like that.”

  The bus eventually reached the fenced off army depot. It passed through the security gate—it didn’t even have to stop, as the autonomous AI signaled its identity a mile out, and cameras and other scanners along the route confirmed the contents of the vehicle.

  The bus maneuvered between the various outbuildings, most of which seemed to be large hangars. One of them was open, and Eric spotted several offline mechs standing in long rows within.

  “Looks like we gots ourselves a depot specializing in the production and repair of mechs,” Hick said.

  “Or maybe just robot storage,” Brontosaurus said.

  The bus continued through the depot, and there were further hints of what the location specialized in: inactive mechs and robots stood next to some of the outbuildings, like jets that had been taxied into parking stalls.

  Eventually the bus pulled to a stop next to a two-story building, and the doors opened.

  Eric followed Marlborough and Dickson down the steps to the asphalt, where two more robot guards waited.

  When ev
eryone had emerged, the four robots from the vehicle also climbed down, so that all six robots escorted them inside.

  “They really want to keep their security tight, don’t they?” Hicks commented.

  “Six won’t be enough for them,” Slate said over a private line.

  “These android bodies are state of the art,” Mickey said. “But they’re not that state of the art.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Slate transmitted. “I could take down all six singlehandedly if I wanted to.”

  “Now, that I’d like to see,” Eagleeye sent. “Sarge, permission to piss off Slate enough to attack the guards?”

  “Permission denied,” Marlborough told him.

  The robots led them through the pristine, empty halls.

  “Looks like they cleaned the place out for us,” Frogger said. “Nice touch.”

  The robots led them inside a large conference room, and the Bolt Eaters took seats, leaving ample space between one another. Bambi and Crusher didn’t sit beside Eric this time but instead perched directly on either side of Slate. Most likely to torment the drone operator: something they had done often during the past twenty years. No matter how much they led him on only to disappoint him in the end, Slate still seemed to believe he had a chance with them.

  “Tonight, you and me,” Slate told Bambi.

  She merely grinned at him, and winked.

  Slate glanced at Eric. “Did you see that? A wink! Progress!”

  “She winked at you once before,” Tread said. “Five years ago.”

  “Hey, I’ll take what I can get from these two!” Slate said.

  Eric merely shook his head. He surveyed the room and noticed all six combat robots had entered and taken up positions along the interior, as if standing guard.

  “Well, that’s kinda rude,” Brontosaurus commented, nodding toward the robots.

  The minutes ticked past; Arnold still hadn’t shown up.

  “Hurry up and wait!” Slate folded his arms over his chest. “Classic army shit right here.”

  Another ten minutes came and went, and then finally Arnold appeared. He looked the same as his earlier hologram.