AI - Alpha Part 28

"No one. Nothing. The best I found was a shack. Abandoned."

"h.e.l.l," Thomas muttered.

"You can lie down in the shack." She looked him over where he sagged in his seat. "Can you get out of

the Banshee?"

"I'll manage." Slowly, measuring every movement, he dragged himself out of his seat. "How far do we have to go?"

"I got there in hardly a minute. But I run fast."

Thomas tried not to think of the walk. He knew he couldn't make it that far. Better not to think at all.

With Alpha's a.s.sistance, he climbed down from the Banshee. As he slumped against the jet, she

surveyed the area. She looked like a cross between a thug and a rock singer in her black clothes, with the EL-38 over her shoulder and its ammunition across her chest. Pieces of equipment hung from her belt and she had the defibrillator carrier over her other shoulder, with his cane stuck through the loop on one strap.

The early morning sky had clouded, leaving a grey overcast that dampened the day. The beach stretched about half a kilometer to both the north and south, and ended in either direction at rocky tongues of land that curved into the ocean. Waves rolled onto the beach in monotonous green swells and petered out among tide pools. Inland about a hundred meters, a ridge hunched up, crowned by trees. No sign of civilization showed anywhere. Thomas wondered dully how Alpha planned to refuel the Banshee.

She handed him his cane. "Shall we go?"

Thomas just stared at the broomhandle. He didn't feel as if he could go anywhere, but he desired someplace warm and dry to lie down even more than he desired to stay put. So he limped onto the rocky

sand. He managed to plod along for about thirty seconds, leaning on his cane; then he stopped and gracelessly let himself down to sit on the beach. His breathing came in labored gulps.

Alpha crouched next to him. "I can carry you."

He squinted at her. "That would be humiliating."

"If I were a transportation cart instead of a biomech forma, you wouldn't be embarra.s.sed."

"I don't care what you call yourself, you're a woman, not a machine, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to

let a woman carry me."

She sat down with one knee up and her elbow resting on it. "We could just stay here."

Thomas was starting to feel foolish. "Yes, I know, I'm being a pain."

"Come on." She stood up in one smooth motion. "It's the logical solution."

He levered himself to his feet with the cane. "I don't know-"

She didn't wait for him to make up his mind, she just hefted him up, cast, cane, and all, with one of her

arms under his knees and the other around his back. She didn't seem the least bit taxed. Then she set off

across the beach.

Fl.u.s.tered, Thomas put one arm around her neck to hold on. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll deny it happened."

Her lips twitched upward. "I will constrain my verbal functions in regards to this occurrence."

He glared at her. "Changing your speech style to sound more like a machine doesn't fool me. You're still a woman."

Her lips curved more, but she spared him any more wit. An AI, teasing him. What a future the human

race had made for itself.

They reached the "shack" in ten minutes. It looked a lot better than he expected. It stood back from the beach, near the ridge, and was anything but rundown. Alpha had broken the lock and left the door ajar.

She stalked inside and set him on his feet, then held him with her arm around his waist as he leaned against her. The room inside contained several tables with consoles. Shelves lined three walls, filled with books and holovid spheres. The fourth wall bore posters of giant storms. The place looked like a weather station supported by a university or research inst.i.tute. The plastic coverings over the equipment

and the layer of dust everywhere suggested its owners had temporarily vacated. It wouldn't surprise him if someone's graduate students worked here in the summer.

Alpha helped him limp to a bedroom at the back with pale yellow walls and white curtains bordered by

blue flowers. The bed across the narrow room was covered with a yellow bedspread and had two fat pillows in white cases. When they reached the bed, Thomas eased down to lie on his back. He was so relieved to rest, he felt dizzy.

Alpha sat on the edge of the mattress. "Can you repair yourself?"

Repair indeed. "Don't know."

"Your face is pale."

"Not . . . surprised." Nausea ebbed and flowed over him.

"Do you need more pills?"

"Not yet." Bile rose in his throat. He pushed up on his elbow with a jerk, leaned over the edge of the bed

about a foot from Alpha-and lost his last night's dinner.

"Oh," she said.

Thomas groaned and fell onto his back again. He couldn't move anymore. His body felt like lead. He

closed his eyes and thought how merciful it would be to sink into oblivion, some place with no

Banshees, MiGs, or androids.

Alpha brushed back his bangs, which were too blasted long since he had missed his hair cut. "I'll help,"

she said.

Thomas was losing his grip on consciousness. The pain in his chest filled his universe. He heard Alpha moving around, cleaning the floor. He was too sick even to feel embarra.s.sed when she took off his clothes and bathed him with a sponge and soapy water. If he hadn't been so ill, he would have marveled

at her solicitous touch, but as it was he could barely think at all.

She put him under the covers, and he fell into darkness.

Thomas floated. He hurt. It kept him from a deep sleep, but it wasn't enough to drag him awake. He

drifted away . . .

The next time he awoke, the room had become dark, except for moonlight shining through a window with the curtains drawn back.

He slept again.

Alpha woke him up the next day to give him medicine and water.

Then he slept.

Night came a second time.

The next time Thomas surfaced, sunlight was slanting through the window facing west, which meant it

was probably late afternoon. The room was light and airy. s.p.a.cious, too, though only because it had almost no furniture. A chair was pushed into the corner, and a washstand with a large glazed pitcher and basin stood by the window.

Thomas levered up on his elbows, and the bedspread fell away from his torso. Greying hair covered his chest and flat stomach and almost hid the faint scar. They had cleaned out his arteries during his heart operation, and he had taken care with his lifestyle since then, working to stay fit. Maybe it had helped.

This second attack hadn't killed him, despite the lack of medical care. The nanos in his body and the medicine from Alpha had probably saved his life.

He thought about getting up, but it seemed too great an exertion. So he propped up his pillows and half lay, half sat in bed. His chest no longer ached. His leg hurt, but less than before. He was exhausted despite having done nothing but sleep for more than two days. He wasn't uncomfortable, though. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

He dozed for a while. Eventually the door creaked, and he opened his eyes to see Alpha standing by the bed. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought her expression was tender.

"You're awake," she said.

"Apparently so."

"Hungry?"

He was, he realized, famished. His last solid meal had been over two days ago. "Starving."

"I'll see what I can find." She left him alone, but she soon came back with a bowl, crackers, and water.

"There's nothing fresh," she said, sitting on the bed. "But I found some packaged stuff."

"Thanks." Thomas pushed himself up higher and winced when his sore muscles protested. "Ouch."