AI - Alpha Part 30

She pressed her lips against his ear. "Maybe that grin of yours affects me after all."

Thomas turned over, the sheets dragging off his legs. For a moment he looked into her dark, enigmatic

eyes. Then he pulled her into his arms, next to him on the bed. He started to speak, but she touched her finger to his lips.

"You want me to wait," she murmured.

"No." Then he said, "But we should."

Alpha stretched her arm under her head and lay on her side, looking at him, her hand resting on his hip.

"Charon must be dead. He would have contacted me by now otherwise."

"I think so." The last thing he wanted in bed with them was the specter of her megalomaniacal tormenter.

"Go to sleep," she said. "I'll do more calculations."

He smiled wryly. "How s.e.xy."

Her lips curved in a sultry smile that may have been calculated but looked natural. "You need to rest,

remember?"

"You think I'm going to sleep with you lying in bed with me?"

"Don't worry." She pushed his shoulder. "Turn over. I'll take care of it."

Intrigued and aroused, he rolled onto his stomach. She resumed ma.s.saging his back, which was heaven.

Although he did drift off, his dreams of Alpha simmered, and he couldn't truly rest. Or he thought he hadn't. The day pa.s.sed, Alpha left the room, and evening came, so he must have slept. Later, rain pounded on the roof and the temperature plummeted. He felt like he had a fever, not from illness but from craving someone he had no business wanting.

Night came. He dreamed Alpha lay in the bed, her front spooned against his back, her body naked against his, warming him against the cold air. When he turned over, she opened her eyes. Then she kissed him, her lips hungry and full. He pulled her closer, telling himself it wasn't real, only a delirium.

He knew this was no dream, but a different sort of fever, a real one, irrational and unwise, a temptation he could no longer deny.

Alpha slid her hands on his body, experienced, yet with an odd uncertainty, as if she were trying something new and old at the same time. He rolled her onto her back and propped himself up on one elbow while he caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They felt as firm and full as he had imagined. Her lips parted for his kiss, warm and sensuous. As he slid on top of her and settled his hips between her thighs, she adjusted so smoothly to his cast that he barely felt her weight shift. His pulse was speeding up, and he knew he should stop, but he couldn't. He entered her easily, and she hugged him as he moved in a slow, timeless rhythm within her.

"Harder," she whispered, her lips against his ear. "More."

He stopped thinking and thrust as hard as he wanted, full of hunger. Alpha inhaled sharply and went rigid under him, her hips pressed up against his. He let go then, and his mind blurred in the haze of his o.r.g.a.s.m.

Thomas wasn't certain when he became aware again. He lay on top of Alpha as his breathing gradually settled. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, but his weight didn't seem to bother her, which was new to him. Eventually he slid off to her side, and she rolled toward him, her eyes closed. He knew he shouldn't have made love, that it was too soon, but he felt good, sated and content, better than he had in days, with no pains in his chest or leg.

"You're good medicine," he said drowsily.

She pressed her lips against his cheek. "Sleep, s.e.xy man."

"What about you?"

"I'll stay for a while, if it doesn't disturb you." Her voice made him think of dark whiskey.

"Stay," he murmured.

Whatever else she might have said, he didn't hear as he slipped into his first true sleep in days.

Alpha was gone when Thomas awoke. He wasn't even certain he had slept with her last night. It all had the quality of a dream. Whatever had happened, he felt better this morning. Sitting up, he looked around.

Watery light filtered through the window. His clothes were neatly folded on the only chair and his tennis shoe sat on the window sill.

Thomas limped over to the chair. His clothes were fresh and smelled of detergent, and Alpha had left soap and a pitcher of water on the wash table. He couldn't shave the stubble on his face, but he cleaned up and dressed. Then he sat on the bed and took stock of his situation. If Alpha continued this way, he might actually talk her into taking him back. She could apply for political asylum. It would force the government to confront the issue of what defined intelligent life.

They were dealing with landmark cases: Turner Pascal, a man whose mind had been transferred to an EI matrix without his consent, who remembered himself as human, and who claimed citizenship; and Sunrise Alley, a collection of intelligences that had never been human and existed only as electromagnetic pulses within the world mesh. Alpha was in the middle. She had never been a human; her body and mind were designed from scratch. Yet she looked and acted like a person. In that sense, she was more "human" than the Alley.

Thomas doubted the Alley cared how humans perceived them. He was less certain about Alpha, and he knew it mattered to Pascal. The final decision about how to treat such intelligences would probably end up at the Supreme Court and high courts of other countries. As long as the debate continued, Alpha should be safe from anyone dismantling her-for who could say it wasn't murder?

If he made it home, he would have to brief General Chang and probably testify in hearings for Alpha. It would mean revealing what had happened here. He dreaded it. The shrinks would say he was psychologically affected by being a hostage. Stockholm syndrome. Prisoners became emotionally dependent on their captors, sought to please them, lost their moorings. He didn't think he had lost anything, but he knew how it looked. He could claim he "seduced" her to make her go back with him, but if they didn't believe she was human, they weren't likely to believe she could be seduced. It would also be a betrayal of last night. Not that he was exactly sure what had happened last night, but if he convinced Alpha to give herself up, he owed it to her to testify on her behalf with the truth.

He had a more immediate problem, though. One of his people must have aided her escape. She might have overcome the security at his house on her own; it was conceivable his guards underestimated her, especially if they believed she was Daniel Enberg. But to get out of a "safe house" that was a security fortress? Not a chance. It sounded like those urban legends of the mythical genius Hughes who haunted the meshes and intervened in unexpected places. Alpha had no ghost in her pocket: she had needed real, solid, human aid.

Unfortunately, that implied someone he knew had set him up. Who? Major Edwards could visit Alpha only with Thomas. Sam had been out to the safe house, but he could never imagine her doing it. Pascal and Alpha were adversaries. Bartley and the other senators had no access to the safe house. C.J. did, but Thomas couldn't see Matheson betraying him. None of the pieces fit.

The door across the room creaked open. Alpha stood framed in the entrance, staring at him.

Thomas smiled. "Good morning."

Silence. Her face showed no trace of expression.

d.a.m.n. He must have crossed some line last night she couldn't go past. Either that, or he had dreamed the

whole thing.

Alpha stepped into the room. She gave no sign of the humanity she had shown the past few days.

Something was wrong. He stood slowly, his weight on his good leg, his hands by his side, his body tensed. She stepped aside-and another person came forward.

"Ah, h.e.l.l," Thomas said.

"Good morning, General Wharington," Charon said.

X: Gemini Nightmare

Charon stood at Thomas's height, with a huskier build. His facial features and brown hair were ordinary enough that he would disappear into a crowd if he dressed in an inconspicuous manner. His fatigues and buzz-cut hair gave him a military appearance, though, and he carried the EL-38 with easy familiarity. No name, rank, or other ID showed on his clothes, but Thomas didn't need it to recognize him. This Charon looked exactly like the one he had met-and seen die.

He entered the room, and Thomas retreated, putting the wall at his back. Alpha stood by the door, also

dressed in fatigues, her booted feet planted wide, her stance a study in combat readiness.

Thomas felt ill. He had no way to judge how much this Charon knew about the last, but the previous had surely updated his copies on a regular basis. Thomas had watched Turner Pascal kill that Charon. This version couldn't have experienced those final hours, but he likely knew what led up to it, including how Alpha had taken Thomas and Sam prisoner.

"So you like my android," Charon said.

Thomas glanced at Alpha, and she returned his gaze with no trace of emotion. He didn't want to believe she had told Charon about last night. But why not? She had used a time-tested method to gain his trust

and convince him to lower his guard, and he had fallen for it. He had deluded himself about her evolution because he didn't want to believe she would sleep with him and betray him in the morning.

He had been a fool.

"No comment?" Charon asked.

"What do you want with me?" Thomas asked.

"Alpha thinks you have information that could prove useful." Charon paced restlessly, far enough away

that he could evade any attempts Thomas made to grab his weapon. "You and your Air Force interfered with my plans." He stopped by the door, and the manic glint in his gaze chilled Thomas. "But you failed to stop me."

"You're only a copy." Thomas said it more to see what he could goad Charon into revealing than

because he thought the android cared.

"A replica of magnificence is still magnificence. Those of you who are more limited quail before visionaries."

"What vision?" Thomas asked. "Destabilizing governments hardly qualifies in my book."

"But your book will never be finished." Charon smiled with an edge. "Alpha tells me that she revealed nothing about my operations. Pascal, the fool, deleted me from his brain, so he can't reveal anything.

And none of my people know I was dead. So you see, General, you failed to stop me. I will create my army."

"For what?" Thomas asked. "To sell? Being rich is your great goal?"

"I'm already rich. Though I have no objection to more wealth." Then Charon said, "Power. Eventually

I'll have an army and technology even your world powers will be hard-pressed to match. I could start my own country, don't you think?"