CHAPTER 48
“You sure Jael and Hit can pull
this off?” Dina mutters.
She has some reason
to worry. We laid out a three-prong plan, and if anything goes
wrong, we’ll be in the soup for sure. Timing is crucial. It’s a
good thing we learned to rely on each other in the tunnels;
otherwise, we wouldn’t have dared risk something on this
scale.
We’re down in the
basement, not somewhere we should be wandering. I doubt we could
convince anyone we’re sightseeing. This will work, though. It has
to.
I cock a brow at her.
“Do you think we’re better qualified to
take out targets quickly and quietly?”
Dina responds with a
withering look. “Don’t be an idiot. You have the
schematics?”
After a few
uninterrupted days of exercise and EMP stimulation, she’s walking
so much better that it takes me a minute to understand why she’s so
touchy. I’d never know she had a transplant such a short time ago.
Her limp isn’t even debilitating now; it just throws off her gait
some. Doc did a good job picking the replacement limb. Wisely, I
decide not to mention any of those thoughts.
“Right here.” I loft
245, who doesn’t say anything. But she’s powered up, ready to play
her role.
I don’t know if this
is genius or desperation, but if I had to guess, I’d call it a
reckless marriage of the two. The tricky part arises from not being
able to check the others’ status, because our comms can’t connect
to the wireless system. Or rather, aren’t being permitted to do so.
We’re welcome to use their terminals for room-to-room calls, of
course.
Yeah, right.
“If Vel does his part
on time, we’ll get in and out in less than two minutes.”
The alternative goes
unspoken. If he doesn’t, alarms sound, Keller’s goons come running,
and—well, I’m not sure what comes next, but I’d guess it’s not
good. I imagine there’s a limit to what they’re willing to put up
with. They could transfer me to an altogether-less-agreeable
prison, or if they lose patience with the babysitting job entirely,
they might off me. As Jael pointed out, these guys don’t make money
off valuing human life.
As we pause outside
the door, I scan the hallway, take a deep breath, and then activate
245. “Johann Keller, requesting access.”
She can reproduce a
voice with a 98.5 percent accuracy. Let’s see if that gets us in
the door. Vel should’ve patched into the cameras by now, so if
anyone’s watching, it looks like we’re not here.
“Granted,” the bot
tells us politely.
We hasten into the
room before something can go wrong, and the door slides closed
behind us. I draw up short, causing Dina to slam into my back. Her
weight makes me oof, and I nearly drop
245, who responds with a cautionary, “Be careful, Sirantha Jax. In
your current financial state, you cannot afford to replace
me.”
“I couldn’t replace
you even if I had a trillion credits,” I tell her.
Dina ignores us as
she scowls at where we’ve ended up. Droid parts litter the filthy
counters, and a half dozen broken units lean up against the
wall—chassis, arms, legs, even heads. Something stands in the far
corner, covered by a tarp. No terminals, not even the decommed one
Vel’s schematics reflected.
Shit.
“I don’t think we’ll
find anything useful in here.”
The mechanic looks
like she wants to slap me. “No shit. They must’ve made some changes
since those plans were uploaded.”
“Or they planted the
wrong ones on purpose.” I wouldn’t put it past them.
Nothing like running us around for entertainment.
It saves them worrying that we might actually accomplish something.
Keeps us busy until the elusive Mr. Jewel sees fit to turn up and
deal with us.
Well, I’ll be damned
if I’ll wait. There has to be something we
can use. I start to rummage quickly, not knowing whether there are
cameras in here. I can’t spot any of the usual tells, but the room
is dark and grimy with months of accumulated dust. Whoever used to
tinker down here doesn’t anymore.
“What’re you doing?”
Dina wants to know. “This is a complete waste of time.”
“Is it?” I yank the
cover off the thing in the corner and only just manage not to
stagger back in shock.
Her eyes widen, just
as mine do. “Well, maybe not.”
“What is it?”
She comes over to
examine what I’ve found. At first I thought it was a dead body, but
the flesh feels smooth and supple when I poke it. For all intents,
we’ve found a woman down in storage, eyes closed as if in repose.
She has brown hair and an aesthetically perfect face that comes
from a composite of many beautiful people.
Bracing herself on
the wall, Dina bends and lifts its bare foot. “She’s a Lila, one of
Pretty Robotics’s older models. See the logo stamped on her insole?
They changed the line about five years ago and shifted away from
classical beauty, went more for the lush, showy designs.”
“Bigger boobs?” I
guess.
“Among other
assets.”
“Is she broken?” Why
else would she have been dumped down here?
“Lemme take a
look.”
She pops a panel on
the droid’s forearm, taps a few buttons, but nothing happens.
“Looks like her chip is fried. Expensive repair.”
“Unless . . .” I look
at 245, hold her up beside the Lila. “What do you think? She’s been
asking for a way to join the action. Could you manage a brain
transplant?”
“It’s not my forte,
but maybe. I have a knack with most machines.”
“I can help,” 245
volunteers. “Once you begin the process, I can tell you what
connections remain to be made and what systems I am able to
control.”
“Let’s try it,” Dina
decides. “This unit may have security clearances that 245 can
exploit. That alone makes it worth tackling. Plus I like a
challenge. Jax, find me some tools.”
“Right.” I barely
manage not to salute and call her “Your Highness” just to rag on
her. After what happened earlier, I’d rather not test Dina’s mood,
particularly not when my very helpful, damn-near-indispensable
personal assistant depends on her good offices.
“This isn’t going to
be a quick in and out,” she warns me. “In the original plan, Vel
only gives us ten minutes to bounce a message out, telling Tarn
where we are.”
“Then let’s hope the
third prong works without a hitch. If Jael and Hit take care of the
goons for us, maybe nobody will come looking.”
She shrugs. “And
maybe this room isn’t on camera. We can’t worry about it now. The
die is cast. Hand me the silver one. No, smaller than
that.”
I feel like a
particularly inept medical assistant, but I pass her the implement
as she begins the procedure. Dina actually unscrews the top of the
droid’s skull, lifting it off, hair and all. Disembodied, the mass
of shimmering chestnut hair looks macabre on the dirty
table.
I look away in time
to find Dina another tool, this one with a curved end. The model’s
head is empty; they’ve already scrapped the ruined bits apparently.
To my untrained eye, it looks as if she could just set 245 in
there. The space inside the droid’s skull seems perfectly sized to
accommodate my PA.
She confirms that
with an astonished murmur. “I had no idea the pleasure models could
be adapted for business so easily.”
“I believe you will
need to remove my external casing,” 245 tells us. “If you were not
present, Sirantha Jax, and your correct security codes active, such
a procedure would destroy me, along with everything in my data
banks.”
“But it’s safe now?
Because I’m here, and I’ve . . . authorized the installation?” I’m
not sure what else to call it.
“It should be.” But
she sounds unsure. “There are risks associated with exposing my
inner workings, but they should be minimized if I am swiftly housed
in my new casing.”
Heh. Only 245 would call this slim, perfect body a
casing . I wonder how she’ll deal with men
hitting on her. And they certainly will.
“Well, let’s get it
done before we’re interrupted.” Dina takes 245 from my hands, and
damn if I don’t feel like an anxious parent. “How do I get you
open? I don’t see any seams.”
That strikes me
weird, too, akin to asking a patient to consult on her own surgery.
However, 245 responds with aplomb. “I will raise the temperature of
the two spots on either side where you must apply
pressure.”
Dina closes her eyes,
running her fingertips along the sides of the sphere. “Got it. Here
and here.”
And 245 pops into
segments with tiny silver screws showing. “That is correct. Be sure
to ground yourself before touching any of my sensitive
components.”
I feel myself start
to sweat. It trickles down my neck to the small of my back. “You
sure you know what you’re doing?”
The mechanic glares.
“Will you shut up? You’re making me
nervous. And I need a steady hand.”
“Do not worry,” the
PA reassures me. “All will be well, Sirantha Jax. But perhaps you
should permit us some room to work.”
And stop watching, I add silently.
“Fine.” I take a deep
breath. “I’ll be over here if you need me. Guarding the door. Or
something.”
“Thanks.” Dina’s
already lost interest in my angst, getting straight to
work.
I turn my back,
hoping for the best.
