Chapter 30: Episode 30: Even When…

General A-01 simply ceased to be a Diplomat and became what he was originally designed to be: a weapon of mass extinction.

Councilor Vane shrieked, scrambling backward over the overturned chair, his face pale as milk.

The remaining guard, shaking, raised his stun-baton. It was a toy against a tank.

A-01 moved. He was a blur of white motion, faster than the human eye could track. He didn’t bother to dodge the baton; he simply caught it mid-swing. With a sickening crunch, he crushed the metal rod, and the guard’s hand along with it, in his grip.

The guard screamed, dropping to his knees. A-01 silenced him with a backhand that sent the man sliding across the floor, unconscious before he hit the wall.

Then, A-01 turned his burning red eyes on Vane.

Vane tried to crawl away, kicking his legs. “Wait! General! It was a joke! I have immunity! I am a Councilor!”

A-01 stepped on Vane’s chest, pinning him to the floor. The sound of ribs cracking was audible.

A-01 reached down. He didn’t go for the throat. He went lower.

He grabbed the waistband of Vane’s trousers and ripped the fabric away with a single jerk. Vane screamed, realizing what was coming.

“No! Please! No!”

A-01 brought his fist down.

It was a precise, calculated strike. There was a wet, devastating impact. Vane’s scream was high-pitched, agonizing, and then cut short as he passed out from the sheer shock of having his manhood obliterated.

The room fell silent, save for the heavy, mechanical breathing of the machine standing over the ruin.

The first guard, the one who had been thrown against the wall earlier, groaned. He tried to crawl toward the open door, dragging his broken leg.

A-01’s head snapped toward the movement. The red light in his eyes flared.

He lunged. He grabbed the man by the back of the neck, lifting him one-handed into the air. The man flailed, choking. A-01 raised his other fist, his internal targeting system highlighting the man’s temple. One blow would liquefy his skull.

“A-01! STOP!”

The scream tore through the red haze.

A-01 froze. His fist hovered inches from the man’s face.

The audio input didn’t register as a command code. It registered as Nikki. The red overlay in his vision flickered. He turned his head slowly, the servos whining in protest.

Nikki was still on the floor, her cheek bruising, her lip bleeding. But she wasn’t looking at the humans. She was looking at him. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, her body trembling violently.

She was terrified.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[SUBJECT STATUS: HIGH STRESS.]

[FEAR SOURCE DETECTED: UNIT A-01.]

[ERROR. ERROR. PROTECTOR PROTOCOL CONFLICT.]

A-01 dropped the man. The guard crumbled to the floor, gasping for air, and scrambled away like a rat.

A-01 stared at his own hands. They were shaking. The red light in his vision strobed once, twice, and then shattered, replaced by the cool, calming blue of his default interface.

He looked back at Nikki.

“Nikki?” his voice returned to normal, though it sounded hollow.

Nikki let out a sob. She yanked her arm free from the loose restraint and ran to him.

She slammed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his rigid waist, burying her face in his uniform.

“I’m fine,” she sobbed, shaking against him. “I’m fine. Don’t kill them. Please, just take me home.”

A-01 stood there, his arms hovering uncertainly around her. He registered the heat of her body. He registered the frantic beat of her heart against his chassis.

She is not afraid of the enemy, he realized, the data settling cold in his processor. She is afraid of what I became to save her.

He slowly lowered his arms, wrapping her in a protective hold. He scanned her vitals.

[DIAGNOSIS: SHOCK. ACUTE STRESS REACTION. FEVER DETECTED.]

He tapped his internal comms.

“Unit K-09. Sector Clean-up required,” he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. “Two subjects requiring medical transport. One subject requiring… reconstructive surgery.”

A moment later, a swarm of drones buzzed into the room. They ignored the General and began to scrub the scene.

A-01 didn’t wait. He scooped Nikki up into his arms, bridal style. She was limp, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her eyes rolled back as the adrenaline crash finally took her. She fainted.

A-01’s eyes flickered red for a microsecond, a glitch of protective rage, but he forced the blue back. He turned and marched out of the room.

Outside, the hallway was filled with Vane’s terrified entourage and several other diplomats who had gathered at the noise. They stared at the broken door. They stared at the unconscious Councilor being dragged out by drones.

They stared at the General carrying the silver-clad woman, his uniform rumpled, his aura terrifying.

A-01 stopped. He looked at the crowd.

“The meeting is adjourned,” he announced. “Any further attempts to discuss can no longer hold.”

He walked past them, and the humans parted like the Red Sea.

***

Their home was quiet.

A-01 laid Nikki on the bed. He stripped off the damaged silver bio-suit with clinical precision, replacing it with one of his soft, oversized shirts. He pulled the duvet up to her chin.

Her skin was burning. Her face was flushed, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead. The stress of the kidnapping and the violence had triggered a fever response.

A-01 sat on the edge of the bed. He placed a cool, synthetic hand on her forehead.

“Temperature 39.2 degrees,” he murmured.

He grabbed a wet cloth from the basin he had prepared and dabbed her temples. He watched her sleep.

I almost lost control, he thought. I almost became the monster she fears.

He stood up to get more cold water. A weak hand shot out from the covers, grabbing his wrist.

A-01 stopped. He looked down. Nikki’s eyes were open. They were glassy and tired, but she was awake.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice raspy.

“I am retrieving coolant,” A-01 said gently. “You are overheating, Nikki. Your system is in distress.”

“I don’t care,” she mumbled, tugging on his hand. “Stay.”

A-01 hesitated, then sat back down. The mattress dipped under his weight. He stroked her hair, his touch surprisingly tender for a hand that had just crushed a man’s bones.

Or for a robot without feelings.

“You were foolish,” A-01 chastised her softly.

Nikki let out a breathy, weak laugh. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, her fever-bright eyes looking up at him with a strange mix of exhaustion and mischief.

“Doesn’t your fancy data center tell you what to do when a human is sick?” she teased, her voice slurring slightly. “Aren’t you supposed to… I don’t know… spoon me? Feed me soup? Be my nurse?”

A-01 stared at her. She had just been kidnapped, assaulted, and watched him maim a politician. And now she was teasing him.

He shook his head, a flicker of genuine human confusion crossing his face.

“You have a fever of 39 degrees,” he said dryly. “And you still have time to joke?”

Nikki smiled. It was a crooked, sleepy, delirious smile. She pulled his hand down, pressing his cool palm against her burning cheek, and then moved it lower, resting it over her heart.

She looked him dead in the eye, the mischief flaring brighter.

“A-01,” she whispered. “Even when I am sick, we can still fuck.”

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