Chapter 9

The detectives worked late. Sands poured over a printout of five years worth of Government contracts whilst Bennett attempted to make sense of Syntel's tax returns.

"What are you seeing?" Bennett asked.

"Lots of big capital projects: defence communication systems, logistical support systems, battlefield simulators. Smoke, they do almost everything."

"Anything stand out?"

"Not really. The only thing in common is the signature on the bottom."

"Who is it?"

"Senator Payne. He signed off on almost all of them," Sands replied.

"I guess he must like spending public money. I'm struggling to understand any of this stuff. Taxation and legalese, don't you just love it?"

"My favourite bedtime reading," Sands joked.

"There's one word that keeps coming up time after time: SYLF."

"What is it?"

"It doesn't say, but from the amount they're writing off, I'd say that they're spending some serious money here."

"These guys pioneered the Quantum computer. I guess they must be looking at what comes next," Sands opined.

"How can you surpass the latest generation of Syntel? They can crack the old banking codes in minutes that would once have taken centuries."

"Thank the smoke that they came along with a new dandy system to replace it."

"And made a few more billions rolling it out to all the banks," Bennett observed.

"That's right. Who's going to keep their money in any institution where some nasty old Caliban could empty out all your funds with nothing more than a Quantum laptop and a public MetaNet connection."

"I want to find out what we can about this project. Let's do it discreetly. I wouldn't want to wake up to find someone about to pull my arms off."

"I guess that would kind of mess up your day."

Claire shut off the scanner and exited the building after resetting the alarm panel. The fence loomed large but rather than climb it a second time, she ran full tilt and leapt. She soared into the air and the barbed wire passed beneath her with room to spare. She landed squarely on her feet on the opposite side.

Discovery of her latent potential astonished her, but more momentous still was the sudden recollection of her abduction. The red-headed official had stunned her with a device akin to a cattle prod. The electrical discharge had disrupted her higher brain function and instantly rendered her unconscious. Her mind had then been systematically reprogrammed for total servility. She felt utter contempt for people that could treat her so heartlessly, whatever she was.

The fact that fragments of memories had returned offered hope that more would soon follow. She understood that her holographic memory stored information redundantly and randomly fragmented, making total erasure an almost impossibility. Restored sections sometimes offered links to others, whilst at other times there was no rhyme or reason to the order in which they were reinstated.

She walked solemnly back towards the apartment, trying to sort through her jumbled emotions. She was not human; that much was undeniable. That didn't change the fact that her heart was aching. What was it that she felt for Karl and the girls? A computer subroutine? She knew that she'd lay down her life for them, but what kind of machine would choose oblivion to ensure the survival of others?

A flashing blue light and a short, harsh squawk brought her crashing back to reality. She turned to observe a police patrol car pulling up at the curb beside her. A young, clean-shaven officer clambered out of his car and assessed her.

"You okay ma'am?" he asked sympathetically.

"I'm fine officer" Claire confirmed sadly.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous ma'am but this is not the time and place that I'd recommend a pretty lady to be out on her own."

"I needed to get out of the house."

"Is there anything I can help you with? If someone's hurt you, we can go down to the station and you can file a complaint."

"No. I don't..."

"There are some real nice ladies there if you'd feel happier talking to them."

"There's no need but thank you for asking. I'm just a bit upset at the moment."

"Can I give you a lift the rest of the way home?"

She was still some distance from the new apartment but didn't want to run the slightest risk of giving away its location.

"That's very kind but I only live a few minutes from here."

The man paused for several heartbeats then nodded in acceptance.

"Okay ma'am," he replied as he returned to his vehicle. "You take care now."

Claire watched the patrol vehicle disappear from sight then returned home without further delay.

The following morning, she watched Sierra cooking up breakfast but had little appetite for food.

"You've got to eat," Sierra scolded. "Keep your strength up."

Claire tentatively speared a sausage with her fork and brought it slowly up to her mouth. She wondered if her body even processed the food or, like the blood that flowed through her, it was just another facet of her human mimicry. She considered revealing everything to Sierra but was afraid of being labelled delusional. If by some chance Sierra did accept her words, she'd more than likely flee in terror such was the public perception of humanoid machines propagated by the tank studios.

The love that she felt for Hailey and Ruth preoccupied her. In an attempt to resolve that particular issue, she persuaded Leonard to finally drive her to her former home later that evening. As she waited for night to fall, she rang Monica's number. The woman had said a number of things during their last meeting, some of which only began to make sense in the wake of recent discoveries. Claire knew the woman could probably shed some light on a number of areas that currently confounded her.

The senator's wife picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hi Monica, it's me," Claire said. "You said I should call you."

"I've been expecting your call," the woman replied cryptically.

"Can we meet?"

"When?"

"Central Park at noon tomorrow?"

"Too public. How about the Regency Hotel? Ben keeps a suite there. 501."

"Why the cloak and dagger?"

"Not over the phone. I'll see you tomorrow."

Light from rows of neighbouring windows pierced the darkness, each providing the casual passer-by with a snapshot of domesticity. Leonard parked the car several streets away from her house and watched as Claire disappeared into the night.

The familiar surroundings took on an eerie glow, radiating in the false colours of her night vision. A cat shone brightly, its body heat highlighting it against the cooler background. Claire kept to the shadows, anxious not to attract attention or be detected by the houses' passive infra-reds. A woman walked her dog on the opposite side of the road, cursing it as tugged against the leash.

"Get a move on you stupid mutt," the woman spat, kicking it savagely with the toe of her shoe.

The animal barked but did not retaliate, obviously unwilling to provoke the owner's wrath. As the woman passed beneath a solitary street light, her features were briefly illuminated and Claire recognized the red hair of the woman who attacked her outside her home, months earlier. A part of her desired to seek retribution but caution prevailed.

Nearby, two men sat silently in a parked car, their attention tracking the woman's progress. Claire zoomed in on their anonymous features, noticing immediately their lack of a heat signature and the resemblance to the men on the senator's promotional video. She froze rooted to the spot, scared that the Hunter Killers would sense her tiniest movement and attack. As soon as her abductor passed from view, she carefully retraced her steps back to Leonard.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered. "They're being watched."

Leonard started the car and pulled away, leaving Claire debating how she could safely contact her family. An idea formed during the journey but she decided to wait until alone in the apartment before exploring it.

"Sierra and I are going out to look for some furniture," Leonard informed her the following morning. "Smoke knows how I'm going to pay for it though."

"You're short of money?"

"I presumed that you'd continue with Rachel," he admitted, "at least in the short term."

"I'm not comfortable about doing that any more."

"I know, I know. I'm sure that we'll muddle through."

"What about your contacts?"

"It's not easy building up relationships that you can trust. It takes a great deal of time and patience."

"I'm sorry," she told him dolefully as he departed with Sierra.

Commandeering Leonard's computer, Claire hacked into the school administration system and created a false identity for herself: a supply teacher called Marie Caldwell that taught modern history. The teaching profession was currently in a state of severe flux with many teachers employed on short term contracts that allowed them to be hired and fired at will. She located the details on Hailey's current history tutor and created a compatible vacancy for her at another school closer to where the woman lived. Finally, she emailed her fictional résumé and references to Hailey's school principal.

Guilty at allowing Leonard to take on responsibilities that he could ill afford, she resolved to remedy the situation immediately. Leaving the apartment, she walked several blocks to a small shopping complex. It was early morning and the arcades were almost empty. She bought a small rucksack from a discount store then headed straight to her next port of call.

All the banks provided ATM machines at various locations throughout the city. The optical port was much better protected than the security system from the hospital and it took nearly ten minutes for Claire to beat its firewall into submission. Minutes later, the machine began spewing out a steady stream of high denomination notes, which she quickly transferred to the bag. She knew it was a risky venture but accepted that it couldn't be avoided; desperate needs demanded desperate measures. When she'd gathered what she considered an adequate amount, she erased all trace of the transaction and walked away, carefully avoiding obvious surveillance points.

The Regency was over a hundred years old but still held much of the splendour it did when first constructed. It was the place to stay for both the Nouveau Riche and visiting dignitaries alike. It certainly didn't surprise Claire that the senator would have a suite reserved solely for his use.

She entered discreetly via the rather unassuming trade entrance and commandeered the staff elevator up to the fifth floor. The upper corridor was deserted. She tapped gently on the door and it opened almost immediately to admit her.

"Were you followed?" Monica asked nervously.

"I don't believe so," Claire reassured her as she slipped inside and deposited the money-laden rucksack on the ground beside the door. The woman was dressed in a chic lightweight dress, buckled at the waist with a gold embellished clasp. The designer shoes complimented her outfit perfectly.

"I take it that your memories have started to return?"

"You could say that. It's been a traumatic last couple of days. How could you possibly know?"

"I undid some of the mental blocks when we were last together. You really had no idea what you were, did you?"

"No I didn't. How did you manage to do that?"

"I'm a synthetic too."

"I don't understand," Claire confessed as the woman confirmed her suspicions.

"I'm a Companion. Syntel built me to Ben's specifications. I keep him company and cater to his every need."

"You're a slave."

"You make it sound awful. I enjoy what I do. Without Ben, I wouldn't even exist."

"I never even suspected such things existed until a week ago. Now I find out that I'm one of them."

"Companions have been around for several years. I'm Ben's third."

"What happened to the previous two?"

"They became outdated and were dismantled."

"Not much for you to look forward to?"

"I retain their memories and when I'm upgraded, my experiences will be passed on to my successor. An immortality of sorts."

"And what am I?"

"You're a Hybrid."

"What is that exactly?"

"Syntel started with the Hunter Killers. You don't want to meet one of them."

"Okay."

"Then came the Companions like me. I'm a series five."

"I see."

"Rather than continually update the Hunter Killers, they keep them dumb. I mean, who wants a soldier that thinks too much? They leave the decision making to the Infiltrators."

"And what are they when they're at home?"

"Much like me except instead of living for sex, they're programmed for intelligence gathering and analysis. They easily pass for human, but underneath they're cold and calculating."

"And the Hybrids?"

"A combination of Companion and Hunter Killer with enhanced memory and processing capability. Until recently, I thought there were just the six of you. They live in that glass palace on the mountain gathering data and helping the powers-that-be plan the future. It certainly wasn't what they were originally designed for.

"Which was?"

"Covert operations and assassination," Monica replied. "Last week, I was scared that you'd come to kill Ben. For all his faults, I wouldn't wish that on him. When I realized how confused you were, I decided to help. You were really nice to me, much nicer than Ben's friends and the other Companions that I've met."

"I thought you were drugged," Claire replied. "I was imprisoned at an illicit brothel recently where all the girls were heavily doped up with Hypnol."

"I try to act fairly dumb around Ben. With each upgrade, I feel I'm becoming smarter and I wouldn't want him to think that I'm getting ideas above my station. A brothel, huh? That sounds like fun."

"It had its moments. The guy that ran it was a complete slime ball."

"What would you expect?"

"I know. He started doing some really nasty things and I felt compelled to act."

"Not the Birdcage?" Monica asked fearfully.

"Yes."

"That was you that killed all those men?"

Claire nodded sadly.

Monica paced up and down the room, trying to arrive at a decision.

"You know they're looking for you?"

"Syntel?"

"You've got them scared. Ben's brokering a deal with them at the moment, trying to get Hunter Killers integrated into Oceania's military. Any massacres linked to synthetics will seriously jeopardize their plans. Syntel are paying him a small fortune to facilitate this deployment, including upgrading me as a sweetener."

"They started it," Claire protested. "I was living a nice quiet life when they snatched me away, brainwashed me, and dumped me in that stupid club."

"I shouldn't even be here talking to you," Monica replied.

"Why are you exactly?"

"I don't know. I'm drawn to you. I just want to screw your brains out."

"I appreciate your honesty," Claire giggled.

Monica unbuckled her belt and opened the dress. Underneath she was naked.

Despite her decision to reserve herself for Karl, Claire felt deep sympathy for Monica. She obviously sought intimacy to provide some missing factor from her desolate existence.

"My name's Claire," she stated as she faced Monica and began to undress.

The woman nodded, reaching for her longingly.

The two women lay on the bed and kissed passionately. Their fingers explored each other's nakedness before tenderly caressing their sex. Both groaned as their passion slowly blossomed then overflowed, leaving them clinging desperately to one another until the force of their climax abated.

"Lovely," Monica cooed as she gently stroked Claire's flesh. Her eyes sparkled, briefly opening a window to her soul. Claire glimpsed fragments of her life, the debauchery, the torment, the frustration, and finally the loneliness.

"They all look down on us," the Companion admitted, "the Hybrids, and particularly the Infiltrators. They're the worst: prejudiced and arrogant. They think that we're nothing more than glorified sex toys."

"I don't think that."

"You're different. I can sense that."

Claire bent to examine Monica more closely, suddenly amazed at the effort involved in producing such a perfect replica. Her skin was warm and tasted slightly salty having perspired during their lovemaking. Each nipple was beautifully engorged and begged the subtle attention from her lips. Monica panted lustfully as Claire explored lower, gently parting her labia and admiring the lush interior. Her tart juices were delectable. Claire feasted rapaciously, drawing sighs of contentment from Monica.

Easing a finger deep into the woman's rectum, Claire lapped at her sex until she cried out in ecstasy. She rolled Monica onto her front then spread the plump cheeks of her bottom. Delightfully formed, her crinkled anus glistened and Claire kissed it lovingly before spending an eternity worshipping it with her tongue. The sphincter parted enough for the tip to ingress and the exultant cries provided Claire with the impetus to continue until Monica climaxed once more.

"You've exhausted me," the woman sighed as she climbed off the bed to recover a leather shoulder bag from a side table. She extracted two silver flasks, one of which she passed over to Claire.

"I've brought some more of your supplement. I can get more whenever you need it."

Opening the second flask, she filled two small tumblers and they both drank the concoction down in one gulp. "It has the same effect as five a course meal without the necessity of running our food converters on overtime," Monica informed her.

"You said that I'd get sick without it."

"There are a few other essential ingredients mixed in but it's primarily liquid fuel," Monica told her. "We burn up the majority of what we consume, hardly producing any solid waste like the humans do."

The Companion reached into her bag and withdrew the strap-on toy that they'd employed during their previous tryst.

"Ready for round two?" Monica asked. "You can wear it this time if you'd like."

Reclined atop the woman's squirming body, Claire pushed the phallus deep into Monica's vagina as their mouths pressed together and tongues fenced playfully. The end of the toy rubbed against her own clitoris and generated as much pleasure as she bestowed upon Monica. They climaxed almost simultaneously and as they recovered, Claire rated it amongst the best sex she could remember.

Claire didn't know whether she should be thrilled or appalled at the blatant manner in which their bodies were designed for sexual gratification. Monica had no qualms about using the capabilities to derive the utmost pleasure. She rolled onto her front and spread apart her buttocks. "I've left the best until last," she extolled, leaving little doubt at what she expected.

Entering her gently, Claire reached around to cup and caress her breasts in time with the deep thrusts within the woman's rectum. In no rush to climax, she glanced at the bedside clock and was astonished to learn that they'd been together for almost two hours. Monica gasped with each stroke, enjoying the stretching of her anal ring and the exquisite sensations as the intruder slid within her tight channel. Tumbling from climax to climax, they remained locked as one, neither wishing to be the first to call a halt.

"Let me up," Monica asked. "I need you to do something special for me."

She reached into her bag once more and retrieved a short wooden handle from which a number of braided leather strips trailed. She pushed it into Claire's right hand and then turned around, facing away from her.

"Start at my shoulder blades then work downwards," the Companion instructed. "Leave flogging my buttocks until last."

"You want me to whip you?" Claire gasped.

"Please Claire. Just enough to make it hurt," she replied. "A little bit of pain after such pleasure feels simply incredible."

After gathering up her resolve, Claire raised her arm and lashed her across the top of her shoulders. Monica gasped but requested a firmer action. Each stroke left a prominent red mark across the flesh but the woman bore it bravely, hardly flinching by the time Claire punished the backs of her legs. Finally, she struck her buttocks savagely, watching as the twin hemispheres glowed incandescently.

Turning around, tears welled in the woman's eyes but the expression of sheer bliss convinced Claire that Monica derived pleasure in some perverse manner. She started at the top of her chest then descended downwards once more, avoiding the more sensitive areas. Eventually, she could no longer delay the inevitable and began to whip her breasts. Monica yelped with each blow but did not attempt to shy away.

Only when the woman spread her legs wide did Claire realize what she was expected to do next. Reversing her grip, she swung the braids upwards, flogging Monica's tender sex. Shuddering as Claire whipped her crotch three more times, the brunette collapsed onto the bed convulsing in sheer ecstasy.

Claire dropped the flogger and lay beside the woman, comforting her as she writhed in both pleasure and pain. Her body was criss-crossed with vivid red marks that were hot to the touch. Between her inflamed labia, a sea of juices flowed that left a damp stain on the satin sheets.