Page 3 of Protector

There are others like him? He blinks, shock throbbing through his blood. She has never spoken to him aboutothersbefore, nor blatantly shown annoyance at the flaws she finds in him.

It’s the most human she has ever allowed herself to be in his presence.

She huffs out a breath and rubs a hand over her forehead, gaze flicking to his for a short moment. “Ensure you are at optimal functionality by tomorrow morning. We will be honored by a visit from the general at nine hundred hours, and he is bringing guests. He will expect nothing but perfection. Which meansIexpect nothing but perfection.”

She gives him one final, hard look before she turns to leave the stasis chamber.

Through the thick glass to the lab, he sees her switching off the fluorescent fixtures, leaving only a faint glow from various bits of electronics to illuminate the room beyond. Seconds later, the sound of the door locking behind her lets AX2 know that he is alone.

Slowly he allows his muscles to soften, his stance becoming imperceptibly less rigid even as her words echo in his mind. Something stirs in his gut—something nearly as base, nearly as human, as the yearnings her scent ignited.

Others. There areothers.

He is not alone.

TWO

ADDIE

“Thisis where you train them?”

The incredulity in General Thompson’s voice makes me hide a grimace behind my tight smile. “Yes. All our data supports the need for as little stimulation during training and downtime as possible. It has proven the best way to manage any, ah,temperamentissues.”

He snorts and moves closer to the protective glass separating us from the white-painted, sparsely equipped training room where my oldest remaining cyborg stands, eyes locked on some point behind us.

“By boring the man out of his skull? Please. Forty-six years I’ve served, and never have I heard of a soldier who sharpened up by being locked in a sterile room twenty-four-seven.”

“With respect, General, he is not a man; he is a lethal weapon. They all are.” I touch my fingertips to the data pad I’m clutching and flick the button activating AX2’s chip. A shiver travels down the large soldier’s body, imperceptible to the uninformed observer. “A simple scan of your biometrics and you can control him as perfectly as any missile. Would you care to demonstrate for our guests, sir?”

General Thompson exhales, an impatient sound, but the three CIA agents he has brought in to see AX2 shift closer. While their faces reveal nothing, it’s not hard to decipher their interest. After all, what self-respecting intelligence agency wouldn’t want to learn more about a lethal asset who can be controlled via a data pad?

The general takes the pad from me, his silent reprimand wiping the twitch of satisfaction off my lips. Right. He doesn’t find my work worthy of pride, even if I’m one of the main scientists responsible for the strongest soldiers at the Pentagon’s disposal.

I clasp my wrist in front of me and step back, schooling my expression as General Thompson scans his biometrics into my data pad.

“And now?”

“If you push the button for the microphone, you can give him whichever command you please,” I instruct. “His chip is set to limited autonomy, so you don’t have to be exact. He is trained to employ his best judgement in how to fulfil your orders, but he will be compelled to execute them.”

“Compelled how, exactly?” one of the CIA agents asks while the general instructs AX2 to do some warm-up stretches.

“AX2 is fitted with a chip capable of overriding whatever impulses his brain would generate on its own. If given a direct order, he will obey. It is no different than programming a computer to launch missiles, or steering a tank.

“The chip has three settings: complete autonomy, limited autonomy, or full remote control. Currently, the AX class operates in limited autonomy mode during missions, but we have found that after about half a year, their training allows for safe activation of complete autonomy during most of their downtime hours.”

I nod toward AX2 as the general commands him to begin the training course. He looks like a normal soldier in his fatigues and combat boots—or as normal as an alpha so hugely muscular can look. But when he grabs the rope dangling from the ceiling and leaps into the air to begin the course, it becomes evident he is anything but.

“How does he move so fast?” one of the visitors asks. Even her CIA training is unable to mask her incredulity. “That is… That should not be possible.”

I follow AX2 with my gaze as he scales a twenty-foot barrier in two leaps, then scrambles underneath the barbed wire in the blink of an eye. “It would be impossible, were he human. But he is not. He may look like a man, and if you were inclined to have a conversation with him, he may respond like one, but he is more a product of engineering than biology.”

“What manner of missions has he completed thus far?” the leader of the little group asks. “Is he calibrated for more… delicate matters?”

I glance at the general. “Discussion of classified missions is above my paygrade, I’m afraid. But the AX class is highly trainable. I see no reason why any necessary skills should be unattainable.”

“I will brief the deputy director on any details, should your agency decide to move forward with this… collaboration,” General Thompson says. “For now, I believe Dr. Green is waiting to show you some of our newer AX recruits. They should provide a demonstration of how quickly they can be trained.” He turns to the microphone again. “At ease, soldier.”

AX2 comes to an immediate standstill, his eyes flicking over the windowpane separating him from us before he looks straight ahead.

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