Future Perfect

Sequel to Solaria

By

Fran Heckrotte

Future Perfect
Lesbian Fiction: Futuristic

Copyright © 2010 by Fran Heckrotte
All rights reserved.

eBook ISBN:  978-1-934889-75-6
Printed ISBN:  978-1-934889-76-3
Audio eBook ISBN:  978-1-934889-77-0
(Audio sold only at http://L-Book.com)

First Edition
eBook, Print, Audio Format
Published: January 2011

This book is Published by
L-Book ePublisher, LLC
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Editor:  Alexa Hoffman

Cover Design by Sheri
graphicartist2020@hotmail.com

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This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for your personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit, including by email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper printout or any other method, constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As I have said before, nothing of quality can be built without first laying a strong foundation. The people below and my readers are that foundation for my stories. I am privileged to have a network of people who encourage and inspire me to keep pushing the limits of my imagination. I'd like to thank a few of them now.

To Pixie Dust, thank you for your contribution in giving life to one of the most important characters in my story. Your generosity in sharing a bit of yourself gives her a depth I wouldn’t have been able to create.

To my other betas who wish to remain anonymous but were so generous with your thoughts and ideas, thank you.

Sheri Dragon... Cover Artist extraordinaire... I'm always amazed at the covers you have produced for me over the years. Each one gets better and better... something I never think can happen.

Roxanne... you are a special person that words can never completely describe. Your dedication to your authors, the L-Book family and your readers is unmatchable.

Alexa, copy editor and more. I’m always amazed at the little things you catch. They can make or break a story. You make it.

And as always to A.L. You have no idea how much you contribute to my stories.

And, who really never knows what these acknowledgements are about and probably never will. Life still holds many mysteries.

Table of Contents

Future Perfect

Prologue

Scootie  The Early Years

Primeris — First Mission

Chantelle

Book I  Present Perfect

Book II Past Imperfect

Book III Perfect Future

Epilogue

About The Author

Other Titles by This Author

Back Cover Summary

Prologue

SCOOTIE
THE EARLY YEARS

CHAPTER 1

THE ROOM WAS FILLED with cages and reeked of disinfectant and animal waste. No matter how advanced the technology, science had yet to come up with an adequate way to mask the smell of feces and urine.

"How do you stand the stink in here?" Dr. Jim Edwin asked.

"You get used to it," Alicia replied, plucking a puppy from a cage and putting it on the scale. Noting the weight on her computer, she checked the eyes, ears and mouth. "What can I do for you, Dr. Edwin?"

"Stacey said you have a promising candidate for the Xeno Program. I'd like to see her."

"Her meaning Stacey or the puppy?"

Alicia hated the company she worked for but enjoyed her job, as much as she could under the circumstances. She had always had an affinity for animals. Working for Future Dynamicon provided her an opportunity to be with a variety of species she'd never have been able to come in contact with otherwise. As head of the breeding program, she had state-of-the-art equipment to insure the offspring were healthy, well-cared for and loved, at least for the first two to three months of their lives. Then they were transferred to the Xenolab to be tested, accepted or disqualified from their program, depending on whether they suited the company's parameters.

Disqualified, Alicia thought. Destroyed is the real word, and the fucking world believes their crap about finding homes for the ones we don't want. At least when they're dead, they aren't being abused.

"You know who I mean, Alicia... And stop blaming Dr. Bartlett for everything that happens to the animals after they leave here. She's got a job to do just like you."

"Yeah, but I'm not into playing God.  She gets too much pleasure poking around in animal brains."

"Playing God? I'm surprised at you. You're a scientist like the rest of us. Surely you don't believe in some superior being," Dr. Edwin asked, giving her an odd look.

"It's a figure of speech. You know what I mean."

"Tell me, Alicia, why do you continue to work here? You've made it pretty clear you don't like your job."

"I enjoy my job. I just don't enjoy what happens to the animals after they leave the nursery. It's disgusting what the Company does with most of them. As for why I'm still here, at least the babies are going to experience a few months of kindness before they're disqualified. Who thought up that term, anyway? It's as bad as the military's use of 'collateral damage'... And you know why I'm still here. If I left I'd be unemployable. Our employment contract prohibits us from working in the same job or anything related for ten years after we leave."

"Unless you're laid off, of course," Dr. Erwin said. "Not that you're in any danger of that. Their lawyers made sure all the bases were covered. Quit and you lose, retire and you can't work in the same field. The only way you can have the final say here is to kill yourself."

"You mean like Dr. Branson," Alicia said sarcastically.

Glancing around nervously, Dr. Erwin grabbed Alicia's arm and pulled her after him to a nearby corner.

"I'd be careful about your sarcasm or mentioning her name too loudly. She was an embarrassment to the Company."

"You mean her 'suicide.' Come on, Charlie, we both know she didn't kill herself. It's another Company cover-up."

"Maybe so, but no use stirring up trouble. Now, where's that puppy I came to see?"

Alicia knew Dr. Erwin was right. Plenty of rumors were flying around about the so-called suicide. Most people didn't care one way or another, but that didn't stop the quiet whispers amongst those who knew Carley Branson... especially when two other employees disappeared around the same time frame, and the former CEO was found murdered in his own residence. Something was going on. Something no one wanted to talk about.

"Over here," Alicia said, shrugging off the hand gripping her arm.

*  *  *

Snuggled in a tight ball against her brothers and sisters, the puppy was sound asleep. An occasional whimper would escape her mouth and then her front paws would twitch wildly.

"She's dreaming," Alicia said and gently picked her up. Scratching behind her tiny ears, she held the puppy out for Dr. Edwin to examine.

"What a pretty little girl," he said, taking the puppy and turning her on her back. Immediately the tiny legs began kicking and the dog let out an unhappy yelp. "It's okay," Dr. Edwin said, rubbing her belly soothingly. Rolling her onto her belly, he massaged her neck until she settled down. Then he proceeded to check her ears and eyes. "She's healthy enough. How well does she interact with her littermates?"

"Abbey's bossy but not mean. She likes to talk a lot... meaning she's quite vocal when she wants something. Our tests so far indicate her AIQ is higher end."

"Great! If it stays that way, she should have no problem qualifying for the Xeno Project." Handing Abbey back to Alicia, he gave the puppy one more caress. "Any others of interest?"

"We have three older dogs ready to be transferred... and a gibbon. They're being moved next week."

"Not very many to show for the amount of money spent on this breeding program."

"I'd say it's a cheap price to pay to avoid publicity," Alicia replied. "Animal rights activists would be all over this place if they really knew what was going on here. I'm surprised someone hasn't leaked information on the Xeno Project."

"Yeah, me too. Well, I need to get back to work. One of their experiments isn't going too well. The dog's having seizures. Some of these assholes think they can just push a probe into a brain and everything will be fine. I don't know where the Company gets these people nowadays, but it can't be from any credible university. Oh well, not my problem. I'm just a vet, not a miracle worker. I'll be back in a few weeks to check on... Abbey, is it?"

Alicia nodded and placed the puppy back in the box with her siblings. Shifting into a more comfortable position, Abbey yawned and then opened her eyes momentarily. Golden brown eyes stared dreamily at the two creatures in front of her before closing. Within seconds she was asleep. Her front paws began twitching.

I wonder what puppies dream about, Alicia thought.

*  *  *

At three months, Abbey was a five-pound ball of excitement. Every time Alicia walked past her cage, Abbey would jump and bark at her, trying to get her attention.

"Arrr rarr rrahh."

"I see you," Alicia said and opened the door to pick up the wriggling puppy. "Settle down."

"Rahh rarr rrrooof."

"Okay, okay. Let's go to the exercise pen and burn up some of that energy."

Today would be the last day Alicia would see Abbey. The dog was scheduled to be transferred to the Xenolab in the morning. Alicia always made sure she wasn't around when her favorite babies left the nursery.

"I'm going to miss you, little one," she said, scratching the puppy's back. "If I could take you home with me, I would." Giving Abbey a hug, she put her into the play box and began teasing her with a small stuffed squirrel, her favorite toy. Alicia spent forty minutes exhausting the puppy and then carried her back to her cage.

This gets harder and harder. One day I'll either quit this fucking job or go postal and blow the damn place up. Sadly, Alicia knew it would never happen. Clocking out, she drove home and cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER 2

"HOW'S SHE DOING?" Stacey Bartlett asked, her worried expression having more to do with her success rate than the dog's welfare.

As if you really care about her, Dr. Erwin thought. She's just a number to you. Another step to fulfilling your ambitions.

"I've stabilized her. If she makes it through the night, she should recover."

"I certainly hope so, doctor. Dr. Franklin isn't going to like it if this one dies. It would be the seventh."

"I really don't give a rat's ass what Franklin thinks. You're the one he'll come after, not me. I told you Abbey was too young to have an implant, but you insisted on putting that damn chip in her brain. A few more weeks' delay wouldn't have hurt you."

The haughty look Stacey gave Dr. Erwin disgusted him.

Bitch! Someone ought to put one of those things in you. Maybe it would make you a little smarter.

"I really don't think you're in a position to tell me my job. You're just a vet. The work I'm doing will give the military and operatives an enormous advantage over our enemies," Stacey declared.

"You mean if the dogs live long enough to be trained. And as for my position, I'm the only one here who might be able to save your sorry butt, so I'd watch your attitude if I was you," Dr. Erwin warned.

"I was just teasing," Stacey apologized. "I'm just concerned about little Agnes."

"Abbey," Dr. Erwin corrected. He knew the woman was seething inside. She hated being bested by anyone, especially someone she thought was beneath her... and a veterinarian was definitely beneath her, in her mind.

"Yes, yes, of course... Abbey. Let's not bicker. Little Abbey is what's important." Glancing at her watch, Stacey gasped. "Oh my! I have an appointment with Dr. Franklin in fifteen minutes. What should I tell him?"

"Tell him what I told you. We'll know more tomorrow. If he thinks he can do better, he can take over anytime."

For a moment, Stacey looked aghast at the thought and then laughed.

"You have such a sense of humor, Dr. Erwin. I'll see you tomorrow. Take good care of little Agnes."

Waving goodbye, she flitted out the door. Dr. Erwin shook his head in disgust.

How you can be so brilliant and such a twit, I'll never know.

Turning his attention back to Abbey, he stroked the golden fur gently.

"Come on little girl. You can do it," he coaxed softly, hoping and dreading she would recover.

Perhaps it won't be so bad. If you survive, you'll be too important to risk mistreating... I hope.

CHAPTER 3

DR. FRANKLIN WATCHED the young puppy being put through a series of tests normally reserved for more mature dogs.

"Not bad," he said, looking at his assistant.

"Actually, I'd say she's doing extremely well. She's already exhibiting an AIQ equivalent to an adult dog. She's outperforming our best three-year-olds."

"How old is she?"

"Seven months."

"Impressive. Good work, Stacey. Have you had any luck establishing a link to the chip?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, there's a problem interpreting the data. I'm not sure if Abbey's brain is developed enough to interpret the data being transmitted to it or the chip doesn't understand the neuro-signals it's receiving. Jared's got a few ideas for tweaking the program that may help."

"Good. Keep me informed on her progress. Our sponsors are losing patience. They are demanding some type of progress or they're threatening to pull their funding."

"You could bring them here and show them what Abbey can do so far. That should satisfy them," Stacey said.

"I doubt it. These are just parlor tricks as far as they're concerned. Any dog can do them. Abbey needs to be able to understand, remember and communicate with us." When Stacey opened her mouth to speak, Dr. Franklin cut her off. "Naturally, I'm not suggesting she'll be able to talk. If we can get the processor to store everything she sees and hears and retrieve the data, we'll have an exclusive product that will be invaluable to our national security. We could place our product with prominent families around the world... and who could refuse the gift of a cute puppy?"

"It's an ambitious plan," Stacey said. "Neuro-implant technology is still very new. It's going to take years before we can perfect the science. Abbey is the only dog to survive the surgery, and she barely made it. Now look at her."

*  *  *

"Good girl," Bruce said, giving Abbey a scratch behind the ears. "Now, show me the red ball."

Abbey looked at the objects in front of her and ran to the small round object buried amongst the other items piled in a heap on the floor. Nosing everything aside, she picked up a ball and carried it to her trainer.

"That's right. Now, take it back and bring me Squirrely."

Returning to the pile, Abbey dropped the ball and pushed aside several items and then pounced on a brown fuzzy stuffed animal. Squirrely was her favorite toy. Shaking it vigorously, she looked at her trainer happily.

"Bring it here," Bruce ordered. When Abbey didn't respond, he frowned. "Abbey, bring Squirrely to me."

Again, Abbey shook the toy but refused to obey the command. She had staked her claim on Squirrely and didn't want to share it with anyone.

"Looks like you're going to have to zap her," Bruce's assistant, Willie, said. He had been watching the exercise for the past thirty minutes and taking notes.

"You do it," Bruce said. "She's watching me now. She'll associate any movement I make with the punishment. We can't have that."

Nodding, Willie pushed a button on a small device strapped to his wrist. Abbey immediately dropped the toy and shook her head wildly. Whimpering, her legs buckled and she fell to the floor, her chin landing on her beloved toy. For several seconds she lay trembling. Bruce walked over to check her and then gave her a pat on the head.

"You're okay," he said. "Next time just do what I say." Bruce then returned to where he had been standing and knelt down. "Now, Abbey, let's try this again. Sit!" he called out.

Legs wobbling, Abbey pushed herself up and sat.

"Good girl. Bring Squirrely to me," he ordered.

Abbey looked at the toy but made no move to pick it up.

"Abbey, bring Squirrely to me," Bruce repeated.

Nudging Squirrely with her nose, Abbey slapped at it with her right paw but again refused to obey the order.

Bruce sighed and shook his head.

"She thinks it zapped her," Willie said.

"Then she'll have to learn it wasn't the toy. Give her another jolt. She needs to learn to obey us without hesitation."

"Owww Wooohh!" Abbey howled, shaking her head vigorously and then collapsing on the floor again. Scratching at her left ear, she tried desperately to remove the source of her pain and disorientation.

"Abbey, bring me Squirrely and we'll be done for the day," Bruce said, as if trying to reason with the dog.

Golden brown eyes looked balefully at Squirrely. With what appeared great sadness, she picked it up and carried to Bruce. Placing it gently on the floor, Abbey turned and walked away. Never again would she show excitement over any of the objects presented to her.

CHAPTER 4

"DR. BARTLETT, I think I've done it!" Jared yelled across the lab excitedly. "We're receiving new information from Abbey's chip and the program's been able to interpret some of the data and correlate it to several of her actions."

Stacey hurried over to Jared's desk. Such a breakthrough would be monumental. As the Research Director, she would get the credit for the discovery. Looking at the screen displaying the program results, and then a halovid of Abbey in her cage, Stacey compared the dog's actions to the data.

"I think you're right. Look! The computer indicates she's thinking of water and now she's walking over to her water dish."

"Yeah, now she's going to go back and lay down. Wait, no she's thinking about scratching."

After quenching her thirst, Abbey sat down and scratched at her left ear.

"She did it! She really did it! Dr. Franklin's going to be thrilled. Good work, Jared. Wait, she just walked over to the cage door. Why didn't the program pick up on that?"

"It's not perfect, Dr. Bartlett. Right now, it's only about fifty percent accurate. That should change as the program continues to associate her actions with neuron activities."

"How long before we're at one-hundred percent?" Stacey asked, feeling disappointed.

"I don't think we'll ever get that high, but I wouldn't be surprised if we were at ninety within a couple of weeks. It's taken six months to get this far."

"Is there any way to speed the process up?"

Jared thought about it for a few seconds.

"Increasing her training should do it. We can have Bruce and Willie put her through more intensive exercises. Make her work harder, mentally and physically. The more difficult the task, the better. And she needs to be pushed until she fails at some things. The program needs to interpret negative results as well as positive if we're to fully understand what they see and do."

"Good thinking. Tell them to develop some new exercises for Abbey. I'm on my way to Dr. Franklin with the news. He's probably going to want a demonstration."

"If you can get him to wait a few days, I think I can get the percentage up a few more notches," Jared said. "Then he can't start giving us his fifty-fifty argument... You know, there's a fifty-fifty chance the computer is going to be right or going to be wrong."

"Well, he's right, technically, but it's not a very professional analysis. Anyone with half a brain knows that much," Stacey said. "I'll tell him we need until Friday to set up the demonstration. And Jared... Abbey had better not let me down, understand?"

Turning, Stacey rushed from the lab, completely oblivious to the seething hatred in Jared's eyes as he momentarily let his guard down.

CHAPTER 5

ABBEY MOVED SLOWLY toward her blanket, exhausted from her workout. She had tried hard to please her masters.

"You'll just have to do better, next time, girl," Bruce said, closing the cage door.

"It really wasn't fair to expect her to do things she wasn't familiar with and then zap her when she couldn't," Willie said, looking sympathetically Abbey. He could tell she was depressed.

"Doctor's orders. Jared said Bartlett wanted Abbey put through a new routine and to punish her if she failed."

"And how was Abbey to know what to do without showing her?" asked Willie.

"Beats me. I'm just a trainer. They say jump, I jump."

"Like Abbey, eh?" Willie teased.

Bruce punched his arm playfully. "Exactly. Thankfully, I don't have my ears pierced. Let's go get a beer. She'll be okay. We'll bring her something special tomorrow to make up for it."

*  *  *

Normally, Abbey would greet everyone coming into the lab with enthusiastic barks and howls. Today was different. Curled up in a tight ball, she ignored the lab techs and trainers. Even her favorite treats failed to attract her interest.

"Hey Jared," Bruce said, looking up toward the vidcam hidden in the ceiling. "Has she been like this all day?"

"Yep! Hasn't moved at all except when she got up to pee. Kim couldn't even get her to eat."

"She was really depressed yesterday. I thought for sure she'd be over it today."

"Well, I can't say that I blame her. I reviewed the training vid. Twenty-three jolts could have done irreparable damage. I'm surprised she had only two seizures."

"Don't blame me. Dr. Bartlett wanted me to push her beyond her limit."

"Dr. Bartlett's an idiot. She was more interested in impressing Dr. Franklin than Abbey's welfare. I told her to halt the exhibition after the first seizure. A year of work is down the tube if she doesn't snap out of her funk. One day Dr. Bartlett's ego is going to get her in trouble... and all of us are going to suffer," Jared said.

"Willie and I'll see what we can do to cheer her up. We brought a new toy for her to try out. Knowing her, she won't be able to resist it for long."

"Good."

*  *  *

Snapping a lead on Abbey's collar, Bruce picked her up and tucked her under his left arm. In his right hand was a round multi-colored object.

"Let's go outside," he said and headed to the outside pen. The day was cool and bright. A light breeze blew from the direction of the woods, filling the air with the scent of evergreens. "Okay, girl, look what I brought you today."

Putting Abbey on the ground, he laid the object next to her. When she showed no interest, Bruce sighed, knelt down and pushed one of the colored segments. It immediately lit up and beeped. Abbey's left ear twitched. Bruce pushed another color and a different tone played. Abbey lifted her head and cocked it at a slight angle.

"I thought you'd be interested. Watch and listen to this." Bruce pressed three different colors and three different sounds appeared. Overwhelmed with curiosity, Abbey walked over and sniffed the toy. "It's an old game I found in an antique store. You try it."

Glancing up at Bruce and then back at the object, she touched the yellow button with a paw. When it sounded off, she jumped back.

"Arrarrah rahhhh."

"Try the green one."

Abbey stepped on the green button and backed away at the different tone.

"Good girl. Now push red and blue."

"Rarr rraah woof. Arrr rarr rarr rahh." Abbey's enthusiasm mounted. Pushing red and blue, she jumped up and down excitedly. "RRooof!"

Bruce rocked back on his heels and laughed.

"Hey, Bruce," a voice interrupted. "What are you doing out there? I'm getting some really strange readings."

"Playing a game. It's called Simon Says."

"Give me an idea how it works so I can check the data," Jared said.

"It's pretty simple. It has colored buttons. When you push the button it emits a musical note. Each button has a different tone. If you push more than one, it will repeat the sequence."

"Gotcha! Have her do it a few more times. I want to test a theory."

"Sure. Okay, girl, press red, blue, red, yellow."

Without hesitation, Abbey did as he ordered and then ran in a wild, ecstatic circle around her trainer and the device.

"One more time," Jared said.

"Abbey, press yellow, green, and blue."

Again, Abbey followed his instructions.

"Bruce, tell her to press four buttons but don't give the colors in advance. Call them out to me as she does it."

"Sure. Abbey, press four buttons."

Cocking her head sideways, Abbey's ears perked up and she stared into Bruce's eyes for a few seconds.

"Awww rarrh rarrh."

"Four," Bruce repeated, holding up four fingers. "Press four buttons."

Abbey walked up to the toy and sniffed it. Then she circled it once. Lifting her right paw, she pressed one button.

"Red."

Then another.

"Red."

"Blue."

"Yellow."

"Whooo hooo!" Jared's voice screamed. "You've done it, man."

"Done what?"

"Come back inside. I'll show you."

"Okay. Come on, Abbey. Let's go see what Jared's so excited about." Picking the dog up, Bruce carried her back to her cage, making sure to leave the toy with her. "You deserve it. Have fun."

*  *  *

"So what's up?" Bruce asked.

"Look at this. The program was able to interpret her thoughts before she acted."

"No way!"

"It's true. See here," Jared said, pointing to a time stamp followed by the name of four colors. He then pointed to another time stamp. This is when she pushed the buttons. Red, red, blue, yellow. This is exactly what we've been hoping for. Thought interpretation. We already know she understands language but to actually see her thoughts... Wow!"

"That is awesome," Bruce said, slapping the tech on the back. "Who'd have thought something so simple...?"

"Let's keep this between us for now. I want to make sure it's not a fluke. Tomorrow, we'll run a few more tests and if we're right, we can surprise Dr. Bartlett."

"I thought you didn't like her."

Jared grimaced.

"I don't, but I like my job more than I hate her. Besides, she's been off for the last few days. The documentation will show this was done on our watch. She might try to claim the credit, but you and I are the real success stories."

"You and I and Abbey," Bruce said.

"Right, and Abbey."

CHAPTER 6

"THIS DOESN'T MAKE sense, Dr. Bartlett," Jared said, slamming his hand down on his desk. "We're still learning from her."

"Jared, you're just a programmer. I don't expect you to understand. Abbey has provided us with a lot of valuable information. We wouldn't be where we are without her but we need to study her brain... See what's different in it now."

"We have cellular imaging devices for that. They can isolate single cells."

"They're just that, imaging devices. The only way to see how something really works is to physically examine it. We've done everything we can do using images. There are definite changes in the frontal lobes. We need to find out what happened and then move forward. I think Simon will surpass Abbey's AIQ and he's only a year old. What we learn dissecting Abbey's brain may help us increase Simon's skills and move the Xeno Project to the next level. Can you imagine actually being able to communicate with an animal without having to use a software program?"

"Abbey talks to us already."

"You're getting soft, Jared. Abbey barks and howls and makes noises. She doesn't talk."

"Maybe not in human words, but she talks," Jared insisted. "Besides, science will never get animals to talk. They aren't designed for language."

"My, my. You've become quite the expert, haven't you? And just what do you know about animal biology?"

"I know speech is about vocal chords and breathing. I know humans can talk because they can control their breathing. If we couldn't, we'd blow our vocal chords out because of the amount of pressure in our lungs."

"I'm impressed. You've obviously been doing your research, but that doesn't make you an expert. At the moment you're a programmer and nothing more. Until you get your PhD in one of the sciences, stick with computers. Now, tell Bruce to get Abbey ready for transfer. We've got her dissection scheduled for next week. And Jared... I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. You might have impressed Dr. Franklin, but you work for me. I can easily have you transferred to computer maintenance." The smug smile on Stacey's lips left no doubt she would do exactly that if pushed any further.

Fuck you! Jared thought. I'll be damned if you have the last word on this one.

Apparently satisfied that she had made her point, Stacey sauntered off.

Jared stared at the data on his monitor for several minutes and then started developing a new program. Two hours later, he entered a final command and hit 'enter.' Signing off, he stood and walked out the door.

I never liked this fuckin' job anyway. It's about time I took a vacation. I wonder what Nunavut is like this time of year.

PRIMERIS —
FIRST MISSION

CHAPTER 1

"YOU DO UNDERSTAND what you're supposed to do?" Sergeant Emmanuel Flores asked, marching around the woman like a strutting peacock. Shoulders straight, hands clasped behind his back, he epitomized the image of the perfect soldier.

"My instructions are clear. I will be able to complete my mission within twenty-four hours," she replied, her voice as emotionless as her expression. Dressed in a black, form-fitting jumpsuit, she stood at attention, her eyes fixed on some invisible spot on the far side of the room. The sergeant nodded approvingly at her immaculate appearance and military bearing. He knew she had the skills to perform her duties, but she was inexperienced in the field. He had reservations about her ability to go solo, especially on her first assignment.

Rookies are never sent out by themselves, no matter how well they perform in the program. It takes years of mentoring before they gain the maturity to work by themselves, Flores thought. Still, orders were orders... and, like her, he had to obey his. That didn't mean he had to like them though, and he definitely didn't like sending one novice operative out on a mission that normally would take three or four.

"Twenty-four hours!" Flores barked, frustrated more with his command than her. After all, how could she possibly know what lay ahead of her? "It'll take you at least that long to reach your destination."

"I have already studied areal and topographical maps. I have isolated several potential drop zones that will put me within four to six hours of the target. Mr. Guiterrez is presently at his compound in Nayarit. The terrain is mostly forested ridges and valleys. I should have no trouble reaching my goal within the allotted time frame."

"And what about your target? How do you know he'll be there when you get there?" If you get there, he finished silently.

"Our contact indicates he will be traveling to La Paz in four days and then onward to Paraguay to meet with President Madero in two weeks. My best chance at breaching his security is while he is in his own home."

"I'd think that would be the toughest time. The complex has a highly advanced electronic intrusion detection system, not to mention over fifty armed guards quartered in and around it."

"That is my point, Sergeant Flores. His security network is ninety-seven percent effective. That gives me a three percent opportunity to infiltrate the compound and complete my mission."

Sergeant Flores stopped his circling.

"Three percent! Who in the hell approved this plan?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Colonel Cranley. I have outlined a strategy that should insure a ninety-one percent success rate."

"Oh, well, ninety-one percent.... Why not ninety-four or ninety-five? Hell, if you're so good at planning, why not a hundred percent?"

"One hundred percent would entail calculating all of the possible variables in the fifty-three minutes it will take me to deactivate the security system, enter the compound, overcome the necessary obstacles and neutralize my target. At this time, I have analyzed predictable possibilities and factored in several probabilities. I am not able to determine Mr. Guiterrez's movements at any given moment, other than reports that he retires to his sleeping quarters at 10 p.m. and appears for breakfast at 6:15 a.m. I have been informed that he sleeps alone but has two guards stationed outside of his bedroom door. Eight guards patrol the interior of the house. Eleven man the towers on the perimeter. Shifts are staggered and overlap to insure someone is on guard at all times. Sentries are rotated every two hours."

"And the colonel really thinks you can accomplish your mission under these conditions in such a short time frame?"

"It would not be logical to give me an assignment he did not think I was capable of performing. I am a valuable asset to SU33. I am also the only one capable of completing the mission, considering how far the drop zone is away from the compound and the time constraints involved."

"Maybe, but I think I need to talk to Colonel Cranley. Wait here!" Sergeant Flores ordered.

CHAPTER 2

"WHAT IS IT?" a gruff voice answered over the deskcom.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but Sergeant Flores is here and has requested a few minutes of your time," Sergeant-Major Kelley said, looking approvingly at the soldier standing in front of him. The man's uniform was immaculate, tailored to display a fit, well-toned body. Two sharp creases ran from the shoulder to the black belt where his shirt disappeared into his neatly pressed slacks. Several medals adorned his left chest while his name tag was displayed above his right pocket. Hat tucked under his left arm, he stood at attention staring at the wall above the Sergeant-Major's head.

"Send him in."

"Yes sir. Go on in, Flores. A word to the wise, though. Cranley's not in the best mood today, so I hope you're not here to give him bad news."

"No, sir... At least, I don't think so, sir."

"That's reassuring. Well, don't keep the old man waiting," Kelley said, motioning toward the door on his left.

*  *  *

Striding into the oversized office, Sergeant Flores stopped in front of Colonel Cranley's desk and snapped to attention, his right hand raised in a salute.

"Sergeant Flores reporting, sir. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"At ease, Sergeant. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, I'm here about Agent Wone."

"What about it... her?"

Colonel Cranley threw his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

Un oh, Flores thought, hoping Cranley's action was more about a bad day than the topic.

"I don't think she's ready to take on such a difficult mission, sir."

"Has she done or said anything to make you think that, Flores?"

"No sir, but she's just detailed part of it. It's impossible for anyone in our unit to accomplish in such a short time, and we've had years of experience. She's only been active one year."

"I'm aware of that, Sergeant. I'm also aware that Primeris passed all the physical and mental tests in our program so there's no reason to keep... her in the program for another twenty-four months. Her record indicates she excelled in situational problems. If I remember right, you were in charge of that phase of her training and gave her high marks."

Flores found Colonel Cranley's difficulty in accepting the Hubot's gender interesting. He had no trouble thinking of Primeris as a woman.

Probably because she looks and sounds like one, he thought. And is about as cold as the rest of the females in the unit. The sergeant was actually grateful the women were rather emotionless. It made them easier to work with. Realizing Cranley was waiting for a response, he tried to remember what the colonel had just said.

"Is there something wrong, Sergeant?" Cranley asked.

"No, sir, I was thinking about the program. It's true she performed well but —"

"Do you have doubts about SU33's training regimen?" The veins in the colonel's neck began pulsating, a clear indication he was losing patience with the conversation.

"No, sir," Flores said, stiffening slightly. "SU33 has the best trained men and women in the world. I'd place my life in any of our people's hands."

"Good, because I would be extremely disappointed if I thought you believed otherwise. Listen, Sergeant," Cranley said, relaxing back into his chair. "Agent Wone has proven it... herself to be a capable trainee. Now she needs to prove she can be a competent soldier, not that she's entitled to a rank. Fortunately, the Committee agreed with me on that one, even though I, too, have voiced my concerns about her readiness. My orders are to test her in a way that will task her skills and intelligence without jeopardizing SU33... or revealing the existence of the Committee. This mission will do that."

"I understand, sir. Ummm... Permission to speak freely, Colonel?" Flores asked, hesitantly.

"Of course. I'm always interested in what my troops have to say."

"Thank you, sir. This assignment makes no sense to me. Why would we jeopardize a multi-million dollar investment to take out a civilian drug czar in another country?"

For the first time, Colonel Cranley lost his serious expression and smiled.

"A very good question. You're smart, Sergeant. I like that. I think you're going to go far in SU33. To answer your question, I'm quite aware and prepared for Primeris to fail. Between you and me, I hope she does. I don't trust any machine to make the right decision in life-threatening situations. Our men and women depend on teamwork. We don't exist as individuals. If one soldier is injured, we all feel the pain. If one of us dies, we all die a little. Machines don't feel. How can they understand the closeness, the unity we've developed over years of dedication and service?"

"I hadn't thought of it exactly in that way," Flores said. "I just assumed Hubots would give us an advantage over our enemies. I mean, Wone is stronger than any guy I've ever met. She's able to analyze situations quickly and come up with strategies that satisfactorily resolve the problems."

"True, but as you pointed out earlier, Primeris has never been in a real-life situation. Her mistakes won't jeopardize anyone's life. Can you honestly say you trust her to make the correct choice between her mission and possibly saving a comrade?"

"The mission always comes first. She should automatically choose that."

"Yes, but how many soldiers would she sacrifice unnecessarily to complete the mission? Our goal has always been to accomplish the assignment with minimal casualties. Why should Primeris worry about casualties?" Holding up his hand, Colonel Cranley stopped Flores before he could answer. "She wouldn't. She can't because she's a fuckin' machine. It's like putting your life in the hands of a vacuum cleaner or something. Would you do that, Flores?"

"No, sir."

"Like I said, you're a smart man. Neither would I, so I have no intention of putting my people in harm's way until Primeris proves herself. No one will suspect SU33 of going after a drug lord, but he's the perfect test candidate. His security system is state-of-the-art and his guards are the best in the civilian world. If she fails, no one will know who she's working for and I'll have proven that Hubots aren't ready to be deployed in the field. If she completes the mission, which I seriously doubt will happen, then I'll send her on another... and I'll keep doing that until she either proves herself or gets destroyed in the process."

"It's a great plan, Colonel, but do we want her falling into the hands of our enemies?"

"Absolutely not. If Primeris doesn't complete her mission within six hours of the allotted time, I've been authorized to neutralize Guiterrez's compound. Two S-45 Dragons will be on standby with orders to destroy his base. Now, any more questions, Sergeant? If not, you have a job to complete."

"No sir. Thank you for clarifying things for me. Do you have any special orders for me?"

"Special? Oh, you mean... No, no. This is all above board. For now, Primeris is to be treated as one of us. If she fails in her mission, it will be because she screwed up. No one can blame us, understand?"

"Understood."

"Dismissed. And Sergeant, this conversation never took place."

"Yes, sir." Standing at attention, Flores saluted the colonel, did an about turn and left.

Smart man, Flores thought. I'm glad he's on our side. He really cares for his troops.

CHAPTER 3

THE ZONE DROP went as planned. Primeris had been hiking through the hilly terrain for over three hours. She estimated her target was less than thirty minutes from her present location.  Because of the isolated location, Guiterrez believed he was safe; he would be right if the assaults were carried out by any normal forces.

A fatal miscalculation, Primeris thought. Humans have perfected that flaw.

Topping a crest, she crouched behind a large oak tree and gazed at the walls surrounding Guiterrez's estate. Vidcams, motion and sound detectors were positioned every hundred feet. Guards were stationed in towers both above and below the tree lines. Several gates were closed, leaving only the main one open. Primeris noticed several guards milling around the entrance, some staring off into the forest while others checked the people waiting to enter the enclosure. The compound appeared impregnable.

Easing back down the slope, Primeris moved effortlessly through the undergrowth for twenty-three minutes until she came to another ridge. She climbed almost to the top before lying on her stomach and crawling the last four meters. Judging from her new angle to the main gate, and aerial photos she had retrieved from satellite images, Primeris calculated she had traveled one-fifth of the distance around the compound. Another hour would pass before she finished navigating around the entire perimeter.

Primeris now had the necessary information to develop a plan. The reports on Guiterrez's security were accurate. He had excellent protection, but it wasn't perfect.  Every other observation post was vacant. The complex was designed so most towers would have a clear view of three other towers. The flaw was that, physically, a person couldn’t look in two opposing directions at one time.

Unless the towers have vidcams, Primeris thought, then quickly dismissed the idea. Monitors would distract the guards. Most of their time would be spent looking at screens instead of checking the terrain outside of the walls. Another alternative would be to assign two people to each tower. That would never work. Humans can't resist interacting. Conversations would be too much of a distraction.

After careful consideration, Primeris picked tower seven to gain access to the compound. It was the weakest point in the structure's construction, visible to only one tower. Two walls angled sharply inward forming a small, flat, pointed 'V' and an electronic dead zone that ran up the middle to the observation window. Motion detection beams crisscrossed every two feet but were unable reach the narrow wall due to the angles of the beams. Primeris had a three foot wide path to maneuver without setting off alarms. The sound detectors didn't concern her. Silence and stealth were part of her design. Even if she made a mistake, the system would be calibrated to compensate for a certain amount of noise. The woods were full of animals.

The motion detectors were a different matter. She needed to stay in the dead zone to remain undetected. That meant climbing approximately twenty-five feet straight up without straying six inches to her left or right.

First, though, she had to reach the wall.

*  *  *

Sunset always created shifting shadows, giving the illusion of things moving as darkness crept from the forests toward the compound. Removing her backpack, Primeris opened the top flap and pulled out a pair of specially designed gloves, toe grips, a thin strand of wire, two small knives and a three-inch ceramic pin. She placed them on the ground and then buried her pack under a mound of leaves.

Primeris stuffed the wire in her shirt pocket. The knives she slipped under her belt and the pin into the side of her left boot. Picking up the gloves and toe grips, she spent several minutes examining each finger and palm for any defects that could reduce their effectiveness. The glove and toe grips were covered with hundreds of thousands of microscopic polymer hairs. The hairs were coated with a synthetic adhesive enabling them to cling to almost anything, much like the gecko lizard. Primeris had spent weeks perfecting her climbing skills with and without them. She had to be adaptable under every circumstance. Barring anything unexpected, Primeris figured she could scale the wall in fewer than three minutes... if the equipment worked properly. If it didn't, she would go to plan two, which was to abandon plan one and start over.

Snapping the toe grips to her boots, Primeris pulled the gloves on and then slid over the ridge, inching slowly on her belly toward the compound. If everything went well, it would take sixty-four minutes to reach her target. Keeping her hands closed like a fist, she stretched her arms in front of her body and then dug her elbows into the soft, leafy mulch beneath her. Her toes pressed into the ground. She flexed her ankles and simultaneously pulled with her arms and shoulders moving her body six inches forward. Primeris repeated the movements one-hundred and sixty-nine times, ignoring a small, poisonous snake that slithered over one of her extended arms and several annoying insects buzzing around her face.

Chemlab's repellent is working within the specifications predicted for deterring insects with no significant detrimental side-effects, although the faint smell of De-T27 could be detected if used within the confines of a closed structure. Reptiles appear unaffected by the odor. It is unclear if rodents...

Primeris recorded the data on the repellent while continuing her mission. The advantage of having processors over a brain was memory segmentation. She could assign different memory banks to perform other functions while maintaining her focus on her primary goal. The SU33 scientists could use the information she gathered to increase human efficiency. Situational studies had proven distractions, even as small as a mosquito, could greatly reduce a soldier's odds in completing an assignment successfully. The slightest movement could send a shot off course or expose an operative's position.

*  *  *

As expected, in fewer than three minutes, Primeris was sliding through the tower window. The enclosure was empty except for a chair, sink and a toilet. A spiral staircase was the only entrance to the room. Primeris suspected that tower duty was assigned to the lowest ranking or guards who were being disciplined for some infraction. Knowing humans, no one would be able to tolerate the solitary confinement for more than a few hours without becoming ineffective.

Primeris eased down the dimly lit staircase. At the bottom was an open entrance overlooking a brick walkway that bordered a magnificently landscaped courtyard. Instantly, Primeris knew her exact position... and the direction she needed to go to reach Guiterrez's suites. Her next obstacle, though, was slipping past the two guards who were quietly talking near a cluster of palm trees. Although their voices were low, Primeris could understand every word. They had just ended their shift. One was trying to convince the other to join him and some friends in the barracks. The men intended on watching a new pornvid and having a few drinks. Apparently the other guard took exception to the offer. After telling her companion to fuck himself, she stalked off. He followed at a slower pace, obviously not wanting to alienate her even more. Primeris had the opportunity she needed. The far side of the courtyard bordered the balcony off Guiterrez's bedroom. Less than twenty-six minutes remained to eliminate the drug czar. Once the sentries were rotated, escaping would become more complicated.

*  *  *

Pulling herself over the rail, Primeris removed her gloves and toe guards. Silk curtains blocked her view of the room but she could hear a man's snoring, and something else — the soft breathing of a second person. Guiterrez wasn't alone, not that it made any difference. Her target was less than six meters away. Nothing could stop her from completing her mission.

*  *  *

Pupils dilated, the brown eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling. The woman had opened her eyes seconds before the needle was inserted into her neck below the ear and forced upward into the brain. Perhaps she had sensed a presence in the room. Humans often claimed to have a sixth sense. There was plenty of analytical data to support the premise, so Primeris couldn't totally discard the hypothesis. Whatever caused her to awaken, no one would ever know. She died quickly and quietly while her lover lay next to her, oblivious to her passing. Primeris stood silently by the bed, her head slightly cocked as she stared at the lifeless body. She had never seen a human die, although she knew they were extremely fragile in many ways.

Fifty-seven seconds later, the snoring had stopped. The room was now deathly quiet, an appropriate description. The thin blade of the knife had sliced effortlessly across the tender skin, severing muscles, arteries and tendons. Blood pumped from the gaping wound for almost two minutes, saturating the bedspread and sheets. Ninety-four beats after his throat was slit, Guiterrez's heart finally failed. The hand covering his mouth had been precautionary but unnecessary.

The drug czar died silently while two soldiers stood vigilant outside his bedroom door, unaware that it would be their last night standing guard over their commander... or anyone else.

The needle is more effective, Primeris thought, wiping her hands on a clean section of sheet. The blood smelled like salt and copper. The sticky warmth fascinated her. She would have liked more time to study the bodies. The more she could knew, the more effective she would be to SU33. Already she had learned a valuable lesson: Humans died easily.

*  *  *

Fifteen minutes later, Primeris had retrieved her backpack and was running through the darkness. Mission accomplished! The first rendezvous copter would arrive at the designated site in eight hours and fourteen minutes. She would be at the destination in three hours and ten minutes, giving her over five hours to replenish her energy.

CHAPTER 4

COLONEL CRANLEY WAS aware of Primeris' success hours before her arrival back at SU33. All the major news organizations were reporting on the assassination and speculating on who was involved. Most theorized a rival drug cartel had infiltrated Guiterrez's organization. A few believed that someone in his own ranks had pulled it off. How else could they have gotten past the sentries stationed around the compound and outside of his door?

How else, indeed? Cranley thought as he waited for Primeris' arrival. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or unhappy with her success, but he was curious how she had accomplished the mission in such a short time. Pressing the button on his deskcom, he waited impatiently for his assistant to answer.

"Sir?" the voice asked.

"Has Agent Wone arrived yet?" the colonel asked brusquely.

"She just arrived, sir. Shall I send her in?"

"Yes."

Seconds later, Primeris opened the door and walked in, still dressed in the traditional black ops uniform she had worn on her mission. Colonel Cranley grimaced at the disheveled look but decided not to pursue the 'appearance' issue with her. Her orders had been to report immediately back to him once she arrived back at headquarters.

"I see you completed your assignment successfully," he said. "Any complications I need to know about?"

"No. Everything went as planned. The aerial photos and blueprints were accurate enough for me to develop an entry strategy. The informant's information was flawed. Mr. Guiterrez had an occupant in his bed requiring me to change the initial plan in order to complete the mission."

"There was nothing in the news about someone else being killed. Do you know who she was?"

"No, but it wouldn't have mattered. My orders were to eliminate Mr. Guiterrez, no matter what the cost. Killing the woman was an acceptable risk requiring a minimal effort."

"I have no problem with collateral damage as long as it doesn't come back and bite us. Right now I want to know how you managed to accomplish everything in such a short time."

"At what point do you wish me to begin the debriefing, Colonel?"

"You can skip the flight and I presume you had a few hours march through the woods. I want to know how you got into the compound and what happened once you were inside."

"Very well. After surveying the perimeter, I —"

For over an hour, Colonel Cranley listened to the details of Primeris' mission. When she finished, he sat quietly, not sure whether to congratulate her or not. Her success reflected well on him but he still felt disappointed.

"It sounds to me like you had a lot of luck," he finally said. "Empty sentry towers, the courtyard thing and Guiterrez and his — well, whatever the woman was — asleep."

"If by luck you mean a combination of circumstances beyond my control that gave me a certain advantage, you're right. It's illogical to think I could predict every event. I don't see how luck is relevant. Isn't the success of the mission the primary consideration?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Still, as a logical being, you have to agree that if luck played a large role in your success, you haven't proven you can perform your duties under... let's say, less-than-optimal conditions. Until I'm sure of your performance, you'll be operating on your own. I'm not going to jeopardize good men and women on just one successful mission."

"Your decision is sensible," Primeris agreed, surprising the colonel. "I'm aware the welfare of your soldiers is your primary concern. I must prove my value to you first. Only then will I be accepted. Is that not correct?"

"That's what I just said. I think we're done here, for now.... Wait! One more question. How did you feel about killing two humans?"

"I have no feelings, Colonel Cranley, but I've learned a lot already. Humans die easily and puncturing the brain is quicker and less messy than cutting the throat. Is that all?"

"Yes," Cranley said. Her emotionless answer reinforced his aversion to working with a machine. Primeris could just as easily have been talking about one of his soldiers. "Go get cleaned up and report to me tomorrow at oh-seven-hundred for your next assignment."

Standing, Primeris left without comment, an irritating habit Colonel Cranley would endure after almost every debriefing. Soldiers were supposed to acknowledge their commanding officer once they were dismissed.

The Committee's going to love her if she keeps this up and I'm going to be stuck with a cold fuckin' machine. I'd rather have the new dogs they're working on. At least they're predictable.

CHANTELLE

CHAPTER 1

"I CAN'T DO THIS," Chantelle said, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Conceentrate," her mentor said, gently. "You can. We weel be here for you eef anytheeng goes wrong."

Sighing, Chantelle closed her eyes and thought about the task she had just been given. Her throat ached, her head ached and she was hungry. Opening her mouth wide, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs as full as possible and counted to twenty. Just when she felt they would burst, she exhaled, blowing as hard as she could and then coughed.

"See! Now was that so hard?"

"Yes, it was awful. I thought my lungs were going to explode."

Syblis laughed, more at the child's pout than what she had said.

"Cherié, eet eez eempossible for lungs to explode by seemply breathing een air. Now, one more time and we weel be feenished for the day."

"Can we get something to eat if I do it right this time?" Chantelle begged, giving Syblis a pitiful look.

Ruffling her hair, Syblis nodded.

"Ah, my poor child. I have been remiss haven't I? No wonder you are so weak. Eet's been at least four hours seence you last ate."

"You're mocking me," Chantelle accused and then giggled. "But I am hungry. Singing is hard work."

"Oui, eet eez very hard. We weel eat and then play. Tomorrow your voice weel be stronger."

"Mama said tomorrow was a holiday. I can't work on a holiday."

"I know of no holiday. Perhaps you are meestaken."

"Uh uhhh! Mama Doreen said it's a middle summer thing. We're supposed to celebrate with big fires. She and I went and picked calenders yesterday."

"Calenders?"

"Yes, you know, little yellow flowers. They're supposed to heal people."

"Ah, you mean calendula, Cherié. Marigolds."

"That's them. Syblis, why does Mama Doreen need flowers to heal? Isn't that what singing does?"

"Not everyone eez a Seenger. Both of your mamas can heal weeth song but there are many theengs that can help the seek and eenjured... and remeember, Chantelle, we must use our geeft judeeciously."

"I don't know what ju... judeeshlee means," Chantelle said.

"Eet means wisely. Our songs are for those who call to us."

"Why? I mean I don't need to sing to heal. I healed my dog, Alice, just thinking she was okay. I think things okay all the time and they are."

"You have a special geeft and a good heart. Unfortunately, some people aren't so kind as you. For now eet eez fine to heal the aneemals but you mustn't let anyone know you do thees."

"But —"

Syblis grasped Chantelle's chin in her right hand and looked sternly into the child's eyes.

"You must obey me, leetle one. Promeese me you weel not heal anyone weethout first asking me or your mamas."

"I... I promise," Chantelle stuttered, her eyes wide with surprise. Syblis never got angry. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, Cherié, I'm not angry. Eef I frightened you, I am sorry."

Giving Syblis a big smile, Chantelle relaxed.

"Can we eat now?"

Laughing, Syblis shooed her away with her hands.

CHAPTER 2

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Chantelle looked at the people around her and grinned. Mama Doreen and Mama Marina were holding up a large cake with twenty-seven flickering candles. The rest of the group cheered and then began encouraging her to make a wish and blow out the candles. Closing her eyes, Chantelle filled her lungs with air and then exhaled in one giant puff. All of the flames vanished, leaving snaking streams of smoke.

"What did you wish for?" Mama Doreen asked, placing the cake on the small makeshift table.

"I thought it was bad luck to tell," Chantelle said.

"Superstitious hogwaller," Mama Doreen replied. "They comes true cuz someone makes 'em comes true... and the only way thet kin happen is iff'n you makes yoh wishes known."

"I don't theenk the Sacred Mother would agree weeth you, Seester," Syblis interjected. "She grants many weeshes."

Several women nodded their heads. The Sisters were a mixture of believers and non-believers when it came to deities. All, however, respected everyone's personal choice. They lived most of their lives in loneliness, so whatever got them through each day was welcomed by the others.

"Well, now, darlin', I never said she weren't real. I said someone makes 'em comes true. Yoh Sacred Mother be one of 'em someones, I be a-thinkin'," Doreen teased. "Iff'n yah takes an excepsheen ta —"

"No, no, Doreen, I meesunderstood you, that eez all," Syblis said quickly. If Doreen got on a roll on a topic, there was no stopping her. "Come, thees eez Chantelle's day. Let us eenjoy what leetle time we have together. Besides, she hasn't told us her weesh."

"Yes, tell us," several women shouted. A chant broke out with everyone clapping their hands.

"Alright!" Chantelle conceded. "I wished that everyone could have been here. There are so many I've never met."

"Those who could not come weel be at the next gathering, eef possible. They are here een speerit. You, Cherié, should never waste a weesh. They are precious."

"You're right. I still wish they could have been here," Chantelle said and then grinned. "I'll be more careful with the next one. Syblis? When will I get a calling? I'm twenty-seven. Shouldn't I have had one by now?"

"Eet weel come when eet weel come. There eez no set age for the calling. I was twenty-three when my first came. Cirelle was forty-one."

Chantelle sighed.

"Forty-one. That's such a long time."

"Nonseense.  You must be patient, Chantelle... and enjoy theez moments. Once you're called, your life weel be changed forever, and your youth weel no longer be. Come now, eet eez your birthday and everyone eez waiting for a slice of cake."

CHAPTER 3

IT WAS TIME. A restless unease had settled over her, making it almost impossible to concentrate on her singing. Finally, throwing up her hands, she stomped off in search of her Mama Marina. Mama Doreen was away on a calling.

"Mama," Chantelle called out frantically. She was feeling nauseous and headachy.

This isn't good, she thought, pressing her right hand over her stomach. The growling and roiling didn't bode well for things to come.

"What is it?" Doreen asked, wiping her hands on a small towel as she entered the room. A patch of white flour covered her left cheek and forehead. When she saw Chantelle's pale face, she hurried over to her daughter anxiously. "Are you sick, child?"

"I feel awful, mama. Like when I had the flu... but I know it's not that."

"It's a calling, sweetie," Doreen said, gently pushing Chantelle into a chair. "The first is always the worst."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You must follow it... but only after you've rested. In a few hours the symptoms will diminish, and then you'll know where you need to go. I'll pack a bag and food for your journey."

"But where am I going? How will I know when I get where I need to be?"

"You'll know. Healers always know. Now, go rest. I promise when you wake up, you'll feel better and things will be clearer." Helping Chantelle to her feet, Marina nudged her toward her bedroom. "Trust me, child."

"Always, mama," Chantelle said, giving her adopted mother a hug. "Always."

CHAPTER 4

CHANTELLE DIDN'T KNOW why she was heading south. Call it a need or intuition. It was the one direction that kept the agitation at bay. Stray from her unknown destination and the nausea and discomfort would return. She soon realized that she had no choice but to trust her feelings, just as her mama had told her. It was disconcerting, though, to be on a journey, travelling to some place she didn't know to meet someone she had never met. Worse was the realization that she had no idea how long her journey would be or what she needed to do once she arrived at her destination. Chantelle had trained for years to be a Healer, but going solo on her first calling was overwhelming.

What if I don't find the person? What if I get lost? Her mind constantly questioned everything that could go wrong. Eventually, she grew tired of torturing herself and turned her attention to her surroundings.

The whimper of a small animal caught her attention. Chantelle could hear its cries, but found it difficult to isolate the origin.

"Here, baby," she called out, turning in circles to try and isolate the direction. When the pitiful sound came again, she decided the owner had to be in a small pile of junk thrown along the side of the road. Walking to the pile, she called out again. "Where are you? I won't hurt you."

A slight movement between two large boxes caught her attention. A pinkish brown nose was attempting to push its way out in her direction. Kneeling down, Chantelle forced her hands between the containers and shoved them aside. Crouched on the ground was a small brown and white dog with sad, golden-brown eyes.

"Oh, poor thing. Are you hurt?" she asked picking the furry bundle up. Giving it a gentle mental probe, she discovered some superficial bruising around the shoulders, and something else. The dog was pregnant. "You're just a puppy... too young to be carrying babies. At least you're not badly hurt. A few notes should make you feel better."

Chantelle hummed a simple tune she had learned early during her singing lessons. The dog stopped wiggling and lay still in her hands.

"So, you like this, huh?" Stroking the dog's neck, she hugged it close to her body and looked around. It was then she realized she was in a dump. That meant the dog had probably been deliberately left there.  "Now what do I do with you? I'm on a calling." The moment she said it, Chantelle knew something was wrong... in a right sort of way. She didn't feel the overwhelming weakness or nausea that had been driving her. Mama Marina was right. It does get better after awhile. Maybe I'll get some rest now, she thought.

Although the dump wasn't an ideal spot to spend the night, it provided Chantelle with everything she needed for warmth and cover. Cardboard was abundant, providing a good cover against the weather, as well as a great insulator against the cold ground. All she needed to do was put together a house small enough to protect her from the elements and big enough for her and the puppy. After searching for an isolated, inconspicuous spot, she gathered as much cardboard as she could and built a shelter. Slipping inside, she pulled the dog close.

"You want to share a sandwich?" she asked, opening her backpack and reaching inside.

"Arrr rah rah!"

"Good. I hate eating alone." Out came a mason bottle of water and a package wrapped in brown paper with a string tied around it. "You'll love this. Mama Marina makes the best sandwiches. Breaking it in quarters, she handed one section to the puppy and saved the rest for herself. "Make sure you don't eat too fast," she advised. Taking a bite of her share, she unscrewed the cap of the mason jar and poured water into the lid. "Here you go. And don't drink too fast either. This is all you'll get until tomorrow.

The dog turned golden-brown eyes on her rescuer and gave her a toothy grin. When Chantelle started chewing her first bite, the puppy placed a paw on her portion and then tore a section off with her teeth. Sitting down on her haunches, she chewed and chewed and chewed... and then swallowed. The look she gave Chantelle almost seemed to ask her if she was satisfied. Chantelle felt obligated to nod her head sheepishly.

"How was I supposed to know you had manners?" she asked seriously. Tilting her head sideways, the dog gave her a toothy grin and then finished her meal. Satiated, she lay down and curled up in a ball, her back pressed against Chantelle's thigh. "Good idea. I'm tired too." Chantelle stretched out on her side and closed her eyes. Within minutes she sound asleep, unaware the puppy had changed position so she was now facing the entrance to the makeshift home. If anything approached them, she would know first and handle the situation. Like her ancestors, she was a survivor... and fearlessly protective.

*  *  *

Snoring? Who's snoring? Chantelle wondered, stretching and yawning. A slight pressure against her leg jogged her memory about the dog.

"Well, little mama," she said, ruffling the soft fur. "Let's eat." Chantelle opened her pack and pulled out an apple, some cheese and two slices of bread wrapped in brown paper. "You get the cheese and a slice of bread and I get an apple and the other slice."

Divvying up the food, she bit the apple. The dog sniffed the cheese and then took a tentative bite. Slowly chewing it, she looked up at Chantelle and wagged her tail.

"So you like that, huh?"

"Rarr rahr roof!"

"Well, that's a good thing. Mama packed a bunch of it... and bread. At least we won't go hungry and you need all the food you can get. Time to go." Chantelle picked up her pack and stood.

Go where? she wondered, looking around. Nothing called to her. The nausea and headache of the previous day were gone. Confused, she looked down at dog, who was staring at her adoringly.

"What do I do?" she asked, feeling lost. "Where do I go?"

As if to answer her question, the dog stood and trotted down the dirt road leading from the dump.

"Hey," Chantelle called out. "Where are you going?"

"Arrr rrahh rah."

"I don't understand dog language."

"Woof!" came the reply.

Throwing up her hands, Chantelle followed. The dog obviously had something in mind. Tail wagging, she pranced down the road, occasionally stopping to sniff the air. It took two hours before Chantelle realized the terrain looked familiar. She was going home.

Book I
Present Perfect

The Historian, Lecoudre

I AM LECOUDRE, Keeper of the Chronicles of the Healers and Guardian of the Numbers. The Healers I will tell of now. The Numbers will become clear in time.

My life, my destiny is to insure that Healers are never forgotten, although few know they even exist. One day their story will be told and those who survive, and those who have passed beyond, will be honored for their sacrifices and their role in the advancement of the human race. Until then, Healers continue seeking people in need; more importantly, those most destined to impact humanity. This is the story of one Healer. It would take several lifetimes to tell all of their stories, so I will begin with Chantelle — gentle, kind, wise Chantelle. At the age of 196, she is young by Healer standards. If life experience means anything, though, she is old beyond her years.

As I have said, my name is Lecoudre. I am the only male permitted to join the Sisterhood of Singers during their gatherings. They are a small sub-group belonging to the Order of the Healers. Although Healers can be male or female, Singers and Seers are always women. In the entire history of the Order, no man has held either position — but I am getting ahead of myself. First I must tell a little of my own humble beginning.

At five I was orphaned, my parents murdered by a religious zealot who believed races must remain pure. That zealot was my father's father. When friends and family closed ranks to protect him, I became an embarrassment — a bi-racial spawn of the devil. Fortunately, a distant cousin rescued me and I was eventually adopted by her.

She was kindness and love. From her I learned of the Healers and then, with the proper training, became a Historian. That was almost two-hundred years ago. Yes, I am old, ancient by human standards; a child by Healers'. My apprenticeship ended many decades ago. I am now the Keeper of the Chronicles. There must always be a Keeper, so two hold the title, share the same information and keep the secrets of the Order. We, alone, know where the sacred manuscripts are hidden. Soon I will begin searching for another to replace me. The aches and pains of time weigh heavily upon both my body and my mind. I am growing weary of travel. A Healer's life is hard. Mine is equally so as I try to keep up with them, try to insure their sacrifices are never wasted, never forgotten... but I digress. This is their story, not mine.

To understand the Healers, one must understand their history and their laws. I will start with that.

CHAPTER 1

The Order of the Healers

THE ORDER OF HEALERS is almost extinct. Those who remain wander this world in search of people destined for greatness... or infamy. Healers are extraordinary in their devotion to the Cause and their self-sacrifice. They don't choose their lives willingly, but rather it is thrust upon them by Destiny, the Sacred Mother, or whatever other power may guide them. Solitary by nature, most live in profound loneliness.

No one knows their origin, only that they were recorded at the time of the Jiroft civilization during the third millennium BC. Many historians consider Jiroft the birthplace of the oldest written language. Only a few Jiroft tablets have survived from that era. One tells of a small group of women believed to have held mystical powers of healing. They were the Singers.

Perhaps, in the beginning, they were a religious sect. If so, they have since evolved beyond worshiping any singular belief. Instead, the Laws of Reason and Numbers guide them. These laws explain the natural order of life, the numbers reflect the impact of their actions on humanity. The first and most sacred law is "Acceptance: All and nothing create balance. They need not be equal for harmony." To accept this truth is to believe good and evil are necessary for humanity to progress. It is this dichotomy of need that drives Healers to fulfill their mission — a mission that, for some, ends in their own self-destruction. How does one justify saving a life only to discover, afterward, that hundreds or thousands have suffered because of his or her deed?

The second law is "Imperfection: Nothing is perfect. Life is flawed." Simple, yes, but another foundation stone of the Healers' missions. It gives them purpose.

Healers sense anomalies in the electrical energies of all living organisms. The healthy emit consistent, uniformly timed pulses of energy... like the set of ocean waves surfers long for. All serious health problems, whether physical or mental, disturb the natural balance of life, creating a web of displaced energy. The Healer's job is to locate the source of the disruption and correct it.

The smallest cellular defect can be modified through mental manipulation by any Healer. Psychological disorders are more difficult to deal with and nearly impossible to cure. Delving into the darkest recesses of the mind is a journey no one wants to make. Only through intense training can the most skilled Healer travel the complexities of the human mind and maintain his or her own sanity. Psychotic quagmires and traps protect the deepest, darkest abysses of the brain, especially those of sociopaths. Thousands of memories flicker continuously, distorting pathways and creating labyrinths virtually impossible for the Healer to escape. It's like being in a room with dozens of strobe lights. Fragmented images appear and disappear, leaving the Healer disoriented, sick and forever lost in a world of insanity. No Healer has ever been able to discover the source of insanity. Some, however, learn to build temporary protective barriers in their patient's mind that staves off the disease, for awhile. Eventually, even the strongest barricades erode and the individual's true nature surfaces. Humanity reaps the benefits of a benevolent genius or suffers the anguish of a malevolent monster. The latter always ends with innocent people dying at some future date.

The third is "The Law of Balance: to move forward, one must step backward." Humans are stubborn and willfully forgetful. They constantly manipulate history to justify horrendous deeds. Eventually those lies are exposed and mankind moves forward. One atrocity is a greater motivator than a thousand good deeds. Healers insure someone lives to become the monster humanity needs. Tragically, the guilt a Healer may suffer afterward becomes a heavy burden, impossible to carry. Their only solace is the cold embrace of death. The loss is felt by all within The Order.

Each of the laws seeks to explain mankind's eternal struggle with itself. In so doing, they give purpose to the Healers' lives.

Enough of my meanderings, though. My mind grows feeble with age and the disease of forgetfulness. Soon I will remember only fragments of a lifetime filled with the richness of living, and then another will tell this story. Only I, though, know all of the players. Only I can attest to the truth of every word about Chantelle and Primeris, two women whose lives will forever change the destiny of humanity.

CHAPTER 2

Solaria — 2098 A.D.

ALMOST A YEAR had passed since Solaria began searching for other Hubots. The government was an expert at covering its tracks, but people always make mistakes, even the best of them. After several false leads, and a lot of wasted time, Solaria was now ninety-three percent positive she had located a third Hubot.

Dark sunglasses couldn't dispel the interest Solaria was attracting at the Webnet Café. She had learned quickly that her silver hair and teal eyes fascinated humans. To avoid questions from the curious, she wore sunglasses whenever possible, even though she had the ability to change her eye color through bio-chameleon manipulation. The process required too much energy to maintain for long periods, which wasn't logical if sunglasses solved the problem. She didn't realize the glasses added to her mystique.

Scanning the holovid, Solaria entered a new command on the keyboard and waited. Although the Webnet boasted lightning fast speeds, she found its response time agonizingly slow. Her computer brain processed information in nanoseconds.

There you are, she thought when the webpage finally loaded. The report was on a site run by an individual calling herself Pixie Dust. Like many sites, it promoted conspiracy theories on UFOs, illegal government activities and companies believed to be affiliated with the cover-ups. From the comments posted on the site, most people thought she was either paranoid or a nutcase. Solaria knew otherwise. Pixie Dust's suspicions weren't crazy.

The last entry on the site was several months old and focused on the death of a young soldier. According to Pixie Dust, he claimed the military was involved in covert assassination plots against political, economic and scientific figures.

The U.S. had banned such activities after an embarrassing incident in 2051. A massive oil spill decades earlier had destroyed the American people's faith in offshore drilling. They demanded that the government shut down the rigs and pass new laws prohibiting future wells from being drilled. Even the influence of the massive U.S. war machine couldn't sway public opinion. Too many lives had been destroyed in the aftermath. Oil would have to be gotten elsewhere. Greedy eyes turned toward Brazil. Massive reserves had been discovered close to their shores. The problem was that their president didn't want to risk his country's beaches either. He refused to negotiate with the U.S. government or the oil industry.

Hungry to maintain military superiority, a prominent U.S. general decided the best solution was eliminating the main obstacle in the deadlock. He ordered two of his men to kill the president of Brazil. Diplomatic relations between the two countries deteriorated when the plot failed. The captured soldiers implicated the general. Embarrassed, the U.S. president apologized. He requested that Congress immediately ban all subversive military activities pertaining to civilian affairs. In theory, the armed forces became strictly a national defense mechanism. Homeland Security and a Congressional committee were appointed the oversight responsibilities for national security. Not everyone liked the decision — certainly not Pixie Dust.

Investigating rumors and reports about subversive and black ops organizations had become her passion. Every blog entry provided detailed information to support her assertions. The suspicious circumstances surrounding the whistleblower's death, as well as allegations concerning a military squadron called Special Unit 33, were extremely well documented. When Solaria read the word 'Hubot' in the article, she knew Pixie Dust was also dead. Certain government agencies wouldn't risk too much exposure.

CHAPTER 3

Peter Wood — Four Months Earlier

PETER WOOD WAS AN Army communications expert and translator. Fluent in several languages, he was a valuable asset to the military. His new assignment to Special Unit 8 was the reward for eight years of hard work and dedication. He was now an elite member of the command unit in charge of overseeing the operations of several special ops units. For him, it was the dream of a lifetime — until it turned into a nightmare.

He had been with SU8 for six months. The day had started fairly normally; General Sherah had left a stack of files on his desk with specific orders attached to each one. His job was to review the files and then forward them to the proper department for action. It was while looking through several files that he overheard two soldiers discussing the assassination of a Mid-Eastern sheik. Peter remembered hearing the news reports, but hadn't thought much about them. Someone was always trying to kill heads-of-states.

The unit insignia on their uniform was what attracted his attention more than the conversation. They were members of SU33. Although under the command of General Sherah, the unit was operated by Colonel Cranley. He was known for his no-nonsense attitude and his harsh discipline. No one disobeyed him. SU33 was the elite of the elite. As such, even General Sherah seemed to take very little interest in the unit's operations. Complaints were forward to Colonel Cranley, an unusual procedure.

One soldier was leaning casually against a wall near the swinging door, his arms folded across his chest.

"He should have given me that assignment," he said. "I'd have finished the job."

The other man laughed and slapped his companion on the shoulder. "Bullshit, Andy. You need to look in a mirror. You couldn't have gotten within twenty miles of the sheik or his daughter."

"You ever hear of hair dye?"

"Yeah. The problem is you don't have any hair. They'd have spotted you —"

The soldier named Andy suddenly stopped talking and stared at Peter.

Aware that he had been caught eavesdropping, Peter swallowed nervously. He knew he needed to do something to explain his interest in them.

"Hi," he said. Andy nodded. The other man stared at him coolly. "I noticed you're with SU33 and, well, I was hoping to try out for that unit. I know it's hard to get in and was wondering if you could give me any pointers."

Andy relaxed slightly. Turning to his companion, he murmured something. Both laughed.

"I don't think you're ready for that yet," Andy said, running his eyes over Peter's slender frame. "You look a little... skinny. There's no way you'd be able to carry one of us if we were injured."

Peter blushed. Although he had no desire to join any other Special Forces unit, the mocking hurt.

"I'm stronger than I look," he snapped.

"Sure you are, mate," the other man said. Peter knew he was simply trying to placate him. "If you're serious about joining 33, do some bodybuilding. No one'll take you seriously unless you put on muscle."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "Thirty more pounds and you just might make it... that is, if you can pass the rest of the program. Most guys can't even make it through Hell month. Umm, by the way, it's a requirement that you speak at least four languages. Do you speak any others?"

Peter realized he was being interrogated, albeit subtly.

"Oh sure. French, Spanish, German, Italian and Mandarin," he said proudly.

"Six languages. I'm impressed! How fluent are you in them?"

"Very."

"Good for you. Any others that you aren't so fluent in?"

"Plenty," Peter replied, making it sound like a joke. "One day I hope to add Japanese and Russian, but I don't have time to take classes."

Patting him on the shoulder, the soldier nodded to his companion.

"Well, it's been good talking to you. By the way, what's your name?"

"Peter."

"Well, Peter, we have to go. Put on muscle and maybe we'll see you in a couple of years."

Before Peter could reply, they turned and left. Peter could hear them talking as they walked but didn't catch the words. The look Andy gave him, as the two left the room, wasn't reassuring.

CHAPTER 4

Pixie Dust

NANCY DUNKIRK WAS 56 years old and considered eccentric by those who knew her. Her nickname, Pixie Dust, didn't help her reputation, either. Neither did the spiked gray hair with tinted orange tips. Obsessed with conspiracy theories, Pixie spent most of her time updating her website that promoted her suspicions about government agencies and politicians. She knew most people thought she was crazy but didn't care. What was important was putting the word out to those who took her seriously.

*  *  *

Sitting at her computer, Pixie meticulously went through each subject line of the new emails in her inbox. She would save the ones worth investigating and delete everything else. Afterward, she backtracked what was left, looking for one in particular.

"There you are, Snoopingdog... Nice name." Reading the introduction, she frowned. If the information was true, it could confirm everything she had been saying. The government was still using covert groups for illegal operations, assassinations in particular. A new black ops organization had been identified. "What do you think, Igor? Does Snoopingdog sound like someone you'd trust?" The Siamese cat sitting next to the holovid yawned and began grooming her bluish-gray fur. Pixie scratched her between the shoulder blades. At fourteen, Igor was several pounds overweight and quite content with her lot in life. "You're right, of course. Names don't mean anything. There's no reason to get excited until we see his proof. You're such a smart little girl, Igor. What would I do without you?"

Opening the attachment, Pixie read several articles pertaining to the accidental deaths of two politicians. They had recently demanded an investigation into a Special Ops unit rumored to be operating outside the law. Because the victims were high-ranking Congressmen, Homeland Security was ordered to investigate the incidents. Their conclusion? Unfortunate coincidences. Never mind that both men had been killed within hours of each other under similar circumstances.

"I knew it! HomeSec is part of the cover-up."

The next article was about the assassination of a Mid-Eastern sheik. The assassin was believed to have been a member of the Royal Guard. He had been killed during the attempt, making interrogation impossible. No groups claimed responsibility. Even those opposing the Sheik's progressive attitude denied involvement.

Snoopingdog had typed a comment next to that article.

Check Special Unit 33 and Colonel Walter Cranley.

Overheard convo implementing them in this.

"Colonel Cranley. Hmmm. Let's see what we can find on you."

Pixie searched the Webnet for information on Colonel Cranley. Other than a graduation announcement from a prestigious military academy and two command tours in Europe and Northeast Asia, data was conspicuously scarce.

"No one is that anonymous," she murmured. "Especially someone with his rank and responsibilities."

Intrigued, Pixie sent Snoopingdog a reply, asking him to meet with her. If his evidence proved accurate, a major news organization would have to take her seriously. Almost instantly, a response popped up in her mailbox.

"That was quick." Snoopingdog named a location and time for the rendezvous. She had only two hours to get there. "Shit. I hope you have something worthwhile. We don't like going out at night, do we, precious?" Picking up the cat, Pixie buried her face in the cat's furry neck. "Well, I'll just fix you some warm milk... real milk. Nothing but the best for my little girl."

CHAPTER 5

Special Unit 33

THE TAVERN WAS tucked away in a lazy part of the city. The taxi ride had taken less than twenty minutes. When she entered the darkened bar, she glanced nervously at the clientele scattered around the small room. No one looked suspicious, which didn't mean a thing. At the counter, a young man was busy washing glasses while a middle-aged woman poured drinks and chatted with three men. Pixie ordered peach and pineapple juice. The bartender gave her a strange look.

"Lady, this isn't a health club. The only thing I have in peach is schnapps."

"With pineapple juice?" Pixie made a face. "Just give me pineapple juice."

Shaking his head, he filled a glass and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said and took a sip.

Might as well make myself comfortable. It's up to Snoopingdog to make the first move, Pixie thought, moving to a vacant table.

For fifty minutes, Pixie waited. When no one approached her, she decided to call it quits. The pain in her neck and left arm was almost unbearable. Pulling a small vial from her coat pocket, she poured it into the pineapple juice and quickly downed the entire contents.

Damn government! she thought for the millionth time. Not a day went by without her cursing the people responsible for the constant pain she endured. Some days were better than others, but none were ever pain free.

*  *  *

Nancy was thirteen when she broke her left wrist. The doctors told her parents the break would heal without any complications, but two of the carpal bones had severed the radial nerve to her hand. She wouldn't be able to control her thumb, index and middle fingers. They did, however, offer hope. A clinical trial on nerve regeneration was about to begin. Nancy's age and injury made her a perfect candidate for the experiment drug being tested. Her parents were assured that the best scientists in the world had developed the treatment and it was perfectly safe. The worst that could happen was nothing.

Three times a week, for ten weeks, Nancy was taken to the clinic. The treatment was excruciating. Long needles were inserted into the injured area, as well as the nerve paths leading up to the shoulder. Although progress was slow, the procedure proved successful. Healthy new cells replaced the damaged ones and Nancy regained full use of her hand. An occasional twinge of pain near the break was the only reminder of the entire experience — a small price to pay.

Six months later, Nancy awoke with a stiff neck that lasted a few hours before going away. Two days later, the stiffness returned. Again it disappeared. No one thought much about it until the third time it appeared. Worried, her parents took her to the doctor. After a thorough examination, he advised them to consult with a neurologist. Nerve conduction studies indicated several transmission abnormalities. The electrical signals to her neck were slowing. Nancy was exhibiting all the symptoms of a disease known as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, a debilitating disorder that would grow progressively worse over time, and was incurable. The cause was unknown, but her parents believed their daughter's condition was the result of the clinical trial.

All attempts to confirm their suspicions were continually thwarted by the pharmaceutical company. The Federal Drug Administration, a recently formed department of the FDA, refused to investigate, and politely suggested it would be in their best interests to retract the formal complaint. The Commissioner was satisfied with the trial results and had fast-tracked FDA approval. The Dunkirks understood the message: Back off and shut up!

As the pharmaceutical company grew richer, Nancy's condition and her trust in government and big business deteriorated. Her pain became her motivation to expose corrupt officials, even if it meant promoting the most farfetched conspiracy theories. At least it would cause someone a few sleepless nights.

*  *  *

The pain began to ease. Disgruntled at being stood up, Pixie left the tavern hoping to grab a passing cab.

What a waste of time and money. Poor Igor probably thinks she's been abandoned. I hope she isn't stressed out too much.

A tap on her right shoulder startled her. Spinning, she bumped into a young man and winced at the pain in her neck from the sudden movement. He was wearing a dark windbreaker and blue jeans.

"Pixie?" he asked hesitantly, glancing nervously up and down the street.

"Snoopingdog?"

Nodding, he motioned toward a parked car.

"Did you read everything I sent you?" he asked and hesitated when she moved slowly toward the vehicle. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just can't walk very fast. Your email was quite interesting," Pixie replied.

"Do you believe me?"

"Maybe. I'm certainly not surprised. On the other hand, you could be a government plant."

"For what purpose? You haven't said anything new. People talk about conspiracy theories all the time. You're nothing more than a tiny thorn in an enormous side... barely worth the bother," Snoopingdog said.

"Hmmmph! You certainly know how to deflate an ego," replied Pixie.

"I'm sorry, but it's true. You realize that if you post anything I've given you, you'll be more than a thorn?"

"I should hope so. I've spent my entire life trying to uncover solid evidence about illegal government activities. This would be a dream come true. Maybe I'll become a stake if I stir up a real hornet's nest."

"You'll certainly do that," Snoopingdog promised.

"Good! What else did you want to tell me?"

"Well first, SU33 isn't your ordinary military ops unit. I can't find any information on the men and women assigned to it beyond their first six years of service. Once they're transferred to SU33, their records are sealed."

"So who has access to them?"

"Apparently only Colonel Cranley. Even the President isn't authorized."

"How can that be? He's the Commander-in-Chief," Pixie said.

"Exactly... and there's no evidence of a Congressional oversight member to review their actions, either."

"There's got to be someone somewhere. What else do you know about this SU33?"

"I know they're bad news. No one is willing to talk about them. When I overheard two men discussing an assassination, I asked a buddy of mine about them. He told me to stay clear of them and Colonel Cranley. The man is fanatically patriotic." Unlocking the doors to his car, Snoopingdog signaled for her to get in.

"A lot of people are," Pixie said. "Political assassinations are still fairly common. They're just covered up better. Conversations aren't much to go on. Is that it?"

Snoopingdog again surveyed his surroundings and then shook his head. Reaching into his jacket, he removed a small photo imagining device and handed it to her. Pixie looked at the screen and squinted.

Why do they always use such small print? No wonder we're all going blind, she thought.

Two words in the document caught her attention: Hubot Project.

"What's this?" Pixie asked.

"I'm not sure, but if it's associated with Cranley, it can't be good."

"Where did you get it?"

"I... did a little snooping after my encounter with his men."

"A little? And came up with this?" Pixie was impressed.

"I have a high-level security clearance because of my job and I'm a pretty good hacker. Between the two, I was able to access certain files. Unfortunately, I only had time to copy this. It's from Cranley to Future Dynamicon's former CEO. He mentions the project and a completion date. The last paragraph refers to AIs and their role in shaping the military's future."

"AIs? You mean artificial intelligence?"

"Yes. That must be what this Hubot Project is about — government experiments with robots."

Pixie made a wry face.

"That's not surprising. Everyone is working on those things."

"True, but not everyone wants to use them to shape our military's future... and Future Dynamicon's CEO was killed awhile back. The details are all very hush-hush. HomeSec got involved, not that they found anything. Why would they be interested in his death?"

"Good question," Pixie replied. "One I think I'll raise on my website."

"You need to be careful, Pixie. I’ve followed your website for years and know you aren’t afraid of the government, but these people don't play around. If they think you're on to them, they'll do whatever it takes to silence you."

"Good advice. Make sure you follow it too, Snoopy."

Pixie appreciated his concern, but was not deterred. Blogs that hit nerves were especially satisfying. That night, she posted her first exposé about SU33, Colonel Cranley and the Hubot Project. Most of it was speculation, but Pixie knew government officials were paranoid. Most likely her site was already being monitored. She was now raising the stakes, gambling that someone would take the bait.

*  *  *

For almost two weeks, Pixie relentlessly campaigned against SU33 and Future Dynamicon. Small tidbits of information about the unit began filling her mailbox from other sources preferring to stay anonymous. The emails she received about Future Dynamicon were a different story. A lot of people seemed to hate the company and were more than happy to contribute to its downfall. Pixie grew optimistic that she would soon have enough evidence to take both organizations down.

Late one evening, while sifting through an unusually large number of emails, she noticed one with the word "obituary" in the subject line. A link took her to a list of recently deceased people. Next to one name was a photo of Peter Wood, aka Snoopingdog. He had been found dead in his apartment. The official cause was 'suicide by overdose.' The drug cited was Paradaze.

Paradaze was the newest craze, a psych-bio-molecular enhancer. Peter's friends denounced the medical examiner's findings and accused the military of a cover-up. As a dedicated soldier, Peter never touched designer drugs. After several attempts to involve an independent investigator, and some friendly advice from the local law enforcement agency, they gave up.

Pixie wasn't surprised. Someone had probably discovered his hacks. They may have even followed Peter the night he met her at the tavern. Another possibility, though, was that her computer had been infiltrated and was being monitored. The practice was illegal, but that wouldn't stop the government. It wouldn't stop her, either. She had crusaded for years. Peter's death only hardened her resolve to carry on the battle.

It's all or nothing now, she thought. Pixie decided it was time to upload her entire files on Special Unit 33, the Hubot Project and Colonel Cranley. Copies of the letter Snoopingdog had given her were forwarded to almost two-hundred individuals who believed in her and her cause. There! You can't stop us all. It's the least I can do for you, Peter. Picking up Igor, she pressed the cat against her cheek and chest. Someone out there will believe us, won't they, precious? I think it's time to call Celeste, sweetie. You know, just in case? She'll take good care of you if mommy has to go away.

*  *  *

Disconnecting from the Webnet, Solaria deleted the computer's history and left the cafe. Thirty seconds later, every server involved with her search was tracked, identified and then crashed. Fifty-four government spybot systems suffered inexplicable and irreparable damage.

CHAPTER 6

Primeris

ATTEMPTS TO CONTACT 1A526, aka Solaria, had failed. Software programmers at Future Dynamicon insisted it was a transmission glitch that would eventually be rectified. Colonel Cranley didn't believe them. He suspected 1A had discovered the sub-program implanted in its processor and destroyed it. Project Shadow was now in jeopardy of being compromised. The colonel wasn't happy. Years of planning would be ruined if the Hubot wasn't captured soon.

It's bad enough we'll have to re-program the damn thing, Cranley thought. I can't afford more delays. Scientists! Nothing but incompetent assholes. 1A should have been properly secured.

Irritated, Colonel Cranley clenched his hands and then forced himself to relax. Self-control was critical to running a successful unit. Inhaling slowly, he turned to the only other occupant in his office. She was his best chance at finding the escaped Hubot. He detested having to depend on her.

*  *  *

Primeris Wone was of medium height and slender. Her dark hair and brown skin complemented gray-green eyes... eyes that stared expressionlessly at him. He hated her blank, unresponsive gaze. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

Hands behind his back, he paced restlessly, intentionally ignoring her as she sat calmly in the chair a few feet away. Primeris was the ultimate covert agent with a perfect mission completion record — not surprising, since she was a machine. Unfortunately, machines weren't to be trusted. 1A had already proven that.

"Have you discovered any more information on 1A's location or the other Hubot that defected?" he asked, returning to his large leather chair behind the red polymer oak desk. Unconsciously, he fiddled with a button on his uniform jacket with his right hand.

"No, but I've acquired data on two subjects that could lead us to them," Primeris said, her voice as emotionless as her face. "Are you nervous, Colonel Cranley?" she asked, her gaze shifting to his fingers.

"Nervous? Certainly not!"  Cranley clasped his hands together and rested them on his stomach, mentally fuming at her audacity. Nervous? Ridiculous! "Why haven't you brought them in?"

"One is in the Middle East and well protected. Removing her would be problematic. There's less than a thirteen percent chance of infiltrating the security network that's in place. The other is a local woman. Her disappearance would create unwanted publicity. I've been observing her for several weeks. The odds of capturing Solaria increase if we are patient and don't draw attention to ourselves."

Colonel Cranley frowned. The last thing he wanted was reporters asking questions about SU33, especially after the last setback. The death of Winston Stalling, the CEO of Future Dynamicon, had delayed his plans for over a year. The new CEO, Lawrence Billings, had cancelled the Hubot Project, citing technical setbacks.

Technical setbacks, my ass! You were outsmarted by a damn machine, he thought.

Even a powerful company like Future Dynamicon couldn't keep out the military's intelligence moles. They could, however, afford to pay off the right people to keep Special Unit 33 off their backs, which is precisely what happened.

The Hubot, Solaria, had gone rogue and vanished. Shortly afterward, a second Hubot disappeared. Now instead of possessing the most sophisticated technological machine invented, Cranley was forced to make do with the original model, Beta 1-OF5, the woman sitting in front of him.

Woman, he thought disgustedly. Since when did you become a woman? Although he had no complaints with her performance, he knew Solaria's generation was superior. Cranley wanted her under his command, and if that wasn't possible, destroyed. Hell, I'm getting too old for this. Even I'm beginning to think of these things as females.

"Alright," the colonel said, "but I'm not waiting forever. Two weeks. If nothing happens by then, we bring her in."

"Setting a specific time frame isn't advisable, Colonel, especially when it comes to humans."

"Primeris, I've told you before not to refer to people as humans. No one talks like that and it will arouse too much suspicion," Cranley chastised.

"I'm aware of your discomfort, Colonel Cranley. I don't use the terminology outside of this office. You expect complete honesty from those who serve you. I perform to those specifications, do I not?"

The colonel's jaw muscles flexed as he silently ground his teeth. He hated to be bested by anyone.

"Yes."

"Then there's no need for me to pretend to be something I'm not. I look human and I act human in accordance with my programming and in order to perform my duties. I will, however, never be human."

"As long as you remember that," Cranley added sternly. "It would be unfortunate for you to think otherwise. You're here to serve and nothing more."

"My memory is perfect. I understand my purpose. Is there anything else you require of me, Colonel Cranley?"

His eyes narrowed as he leaned across his desk to get closer to Primeris.

Damn, I wish I could tell what's going on in that computer brain of yours, he thought. Her manner troubled him, but there was nothing specific about it he could pinpoint. He'd talk to the programmers and schedule her for a complete analysis. The last thing he needed was another Hubot going rogue... if that was what really happened.

"Do whatever you have to but do it quickly. We need to capture Solaria. Report to Major Simpson for debriefing and then return to your assignment," he said.

Without comment, Primeris stood and left.

I hope our other projects are having better success. At least they aren't dependent on a fucking mach —

A buzzing sound from his deskcom interrupted the thought.

"What?" he demanded.

"Colonel Cranley, sir, you have a call," his assistant said. "It's Mr. Billings from Future Dynamicon."

"Put him through... Good afternoon, Mr. Billings. I hope you have good news for me," Cranley said.

"I know you like to get right to the point, Cranley, so no, it's not good news," a man's voice replied. "Abbey has escaped."

"Abbey?"

"Project Xeno."

"Shit! What the hell is wrong with you people? First the Hubot and now the dog? Has anyone ever heard of security?"

"We do our best, Colonel. No one expected —"

Swearing angrily, the colonel deactivated the connection. Something needed to be done about the Future Dynamicon contracts. The company was a major fuckup and a risk to SU33's existence.

CHAPTER 7

Abbey

YELLOW-BROWN EYES stared curiously at the animal standing several feet away. An unfamiliar scent clung to it. That was good. The dog's experiences with others like her were mostly unpleasant. A few, however, had been kind, so she knew all of them weren't bad for her.

*  *  *

Twice a day, for almost two years, Abbey was released from her cage and taken to the outside training area. She loved the multitude of smells assailing her nostrils. Warm, sunny mornings eased stiff joints brought on by the confinement of being caged. Cold, snowy afternoons made her feel alive. She would run wildly around the pen, barking and howling until she was commanded to heel. Then her work would begin.

When she performed well, she was rewarded. If she made mistakes, she was punished. An object attached to her ear caused her pain, although it was tolerable. The mental effects were more problematic. Whenever the device was activated, she felt confused and disoriented. Once the effects subsided, the training process started over again. Abbey learned how to please and anticipated what was expected of her. The punishments stopped.

*  *  *

Her day started like every other. Commanded to heel, Abbey walked calmly between the two men, listening and watching.

"I heard Abbey's going to be transferred to Sector 6 next week. I'm going to miss her," her handler, Bruce, said.

"Sector 6? I thought they were going to put her in the field. Why go through all of this just to have her brain dissected?" his companion replied.

"Beats me, Willie. I get paid to train animals, not ask questions."

"Well, I think it sucks. She's a nice dog; the best we've had yet."

"Yeah, a shame, but there's nothing we can do."

"I guess not." Opening the gate leading to the training area, Willie signaled Abbey to stay. "It's a waste of time, but we might as well run her through the drills. We'll give her some free time afterward."

Abbey performed each task flawlessly.

"Great job, Abbey. Free!" Willie said and motioned for Bruce to follow him. "Let's get something to eat. She'll be fine."

"Works for me."

*  *  *

Abbey sniffed the ground next to the fence. Every day she searched for a way out. Before today, freedom was her sole motivation for escape. Now, her life depended on it. She had understood most of her masters' conversation. The word 'dissected' was new, but she sensed it wasn't good.

"She's thinking about escaping," a voice said over a loudspeaker.

"She's always thinking about escaping," Bruce said. "If she really wanted to, she'd have tried it a long time ago. Even dogs have dreams, I guess."

Sashaying toward the trainers, Abbey swung her head from side to side happily. Two feet from them, she sat down and gave both men a toothy grin.

"Not yet, girl," Willie said. "Stay here and we'll bring you back a treat."

"Arr... rahhh... rahhh."

Willie laughed.

"Always the talker."

Opening the gate, he motioned Bruce through.

"She's going to run," the voice on the loudspeaker screamed. The warning came too late.

Abbey seized the opportunity and charged past her trainers, darting between the gate and Willie. Yells for her to stop were ignored. Within minutes, she was charging through the shadowy forest that surrounded the enormous complex.

For hours, she ran. Once it was safe, Abbey stopped to rest... and to rid herself of the thing attached to her ear. If her masters found her, they would use it to control her. Scratching and digging at the object with her hind leg, she eventually managed to dislodge it. Blood ran down her furry cheek and dripped onto the ground. Abbey sniffed at it and sneezed. Using her right front paw, she scratched at the area until the scent disappeared. Then she trotted off into the darkened woods. Whatever her future held, it had to be better than her past.

CHAPTER 8

Jain

SEVERAL MONTHS HAD passed since Jain's return from the Middle East. She still found it hard to believe that Joanie was a princess, let alone the sovereign ruler of a country. Betta, who at one time had been Joanie's captor, now commanded the princess' security network. Some of the Royal Guardsmen resented being subservient to a woman, but not one was brave enough to challenge Betta. Her superior hand-to-hand combat skills and intellect were enough to intimidate the bravest in the Guard. Only Joanie, Jain and Solaria knew Betta was a first-generation Hubot.

*  *  *

Her work at the library had taken longer than normal. A high school literature class had arrived late in the afternoon to examine the antiquated collection of books. The majority had never seen a real book, let alone held one. Jain had to continually caution them about the fragility of paper pages.

Arriving home, Jain felt whipped. Ten hours on her feet made her calves ache.

Being fat doesn't help either. Tomorrow, I'm starting my diet, she promised herself, knowing it was never going to happen.

Perhaps exhaustion was making her a little paranoid as she walked up the steps to her condo. Glancing nervously around her neighborhood, the feeling of being watched made her uneasy. Except for a couple of kids on roller-rockets, and a small dog hiding behind two trash cans, the streets were vacant.

Jain cringed when one of the girls attempted a triple flip off a homemade accelerator ramp and landed on her back. Roller-rockets were the latest rave. Micro power packs activated the miniature propulsion jets on the boots, giving kids the momentum needed to achieve difficult maneuvers such as the flips. Jain was glad to see the girl had adequate safety gear. Several children had died from broken necks and head injuries because they refused to wear helmets. Specially designed joint guards protected her elbows, wrists and knees. An impact absorbent flexbrace supported and buffered the spine against impact and compression injuries.

"Are you okay, Tewanna?" Jain called out. The girl gave her the thumbs up and grinned, embarrassed that she had been caught doing a triple flip. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her mother wasn't happy Tewanna was participating in a predominantly male-dominated sport.

Waving, Jain checked out the neighborhood one last time. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The dog had moved, but still appeared reluctant to get closer. Its head was cocked slightly as stared unblinkingly at a spot several feet away. Unconsciously, Jain shrugged.

I wonder what that's about. Maybe it'll be gone by tomorrow. She could only hope. Jain had a soft spot for animals and was familiar with all the pets in the neighborhood. This one was new to the area.

*  *  *

The following evening, the dog was still hanging outside of her condo. Slightly scruffy, its left ear was badly torn but didn't look infected. Jain had asked her neighbors about it that morning. No one knew anything. Concerned that it had been dumped, Jain felt obligated to do something to help the animal.

I guess I could take you in for the night. Then what? I don't have time for a pet... Oh, what the hell! At least I can give you some food and water. Maybe put some salve on that ear. I'm sure someone's looking for you.

Jain plopped down on the second step and held out her hand.

"Come on, baby," she called out. "I don't bite."

Surprisingly, the dog sprang forward and leapt onto her lap. The white and brown wiry coat was slightly disheveled but clean. A small scar was barely visible above the ridge of her left eye.

"Well, young lady, you look pretty good, considering you're lost. Apparently no one thought enough of you to put a collar on you. How about we go get dinner? We can decide what to do with you later."

"Arrr... rrrahh... rahhh."

Jain smiled. Standing, she marched up the stairs, holding the dog under one arm and her handbag on the other. Neither noticed the young woman standing a few doors away.

CHAPTER 9

Joanie

"I'LL GET US SOMETHING to eat in bit," Jain promised the dog, putting her on the floor. "Right now, I'm going to rest my feet." She walked into the living room and collapsed in her favorite chair. The dog stared at her but didn't move. "Oh, so now you're suddenly shy. Well I don't —" She was interrupted by a whispery, female voice to her right.

"Excuse me, Jain. You have a call. I have tried to identify the number. It is unregistered. Do you want me to answer it?"

"Can you identify the voice, Phoebe?"

"No, Jain. It is female but not in your database. She addressed you by your first name. The call appears legitimate."

Legitimate. I hate that word. Why can't you just say a real person or robo?

Jain sighed. She preferred not to be disturbed, but was curious about the caller.

"Activate audio only, Phoebe... and thank you."

"You are welcome, Jain. Audio is now activated."

"Hello, this is Jain."

"Jain!" a woman's voice exclaimed excitedly. "That's quite an answering device you have."

"Joanie!" Jain yelped happily, sitting up. "And yes, she is. I bought her a few weeks ago. Phoebe is great at screening my calls and monitoring the security system. Hold on while I switch the vid on."

Seconds later, the face of a young woman with white spiked hair appeared on the monitor. Joanie definitely didn't fit the stereotyped image of a Mid-Eastern princess, let alone sovereign ruler of a country that Africa was trying desperately to court.

"It's so good to see you," Joan said, waving enthusiastically to Jain. "So what's with this Phoebe?"

"She's the latest thing in technology. Not only does she answer my calls, she also tells me who's at the door and scrambles unauthorized radio frequencies. Even HomeSec can't eavesdrop."

"Do you honestly think any store-bought device can stop the government?" Joanie asked.

"No, but Hack Attack can. He tweaked it for me," Jain replied, giving Joanie a smug smile.

Joanie laughed and gave Jain a thumbs up. Hack Attack's skills were legendary amongst the underground high-tech geekers. He had been instrumental in Solaria's escape from Future Dynamicon.

"I stand corrected. He's the best. How's Hack doing?"

"As paranoid as ever. Enough about him, though. How are you? There's nothing wrong, I hope."

"Naw, everyone here's fine. Betta makes sure of that."

"I bet she does. Your guards weren't very happy when you put her in charge of security."

"Fuck them! Being a princess has its advantages, and being a ruler means not giving a shit what my subjects like," Joanie said and then laughed.

"Or not! You've certainly developed a royal attitude. I hope you're not turning into a despot."

"Only with those who deserve it."

"Good! Some people just don't get it. How's your uncle? He's quite the charmer."

"Oh Uncle Jazeer is fine. He sends his regards and mentioned visiting you later this year. I think he likes you."

"God forbid! He knows I like women. Why in the world would he want to come here?" Jain asked, incredulous at the thought.

"He knows and he doesn't like you that way. He thinks you're an interesting person and wants to get to know you better. Besides, it's not common knowledge, but Unc isn't into women... if you know what I mean."

Jain laughed. "Good for him. So, if everyone's fine, why the call?"

"Jainy, I'm crushed. Can't I call you simply because I miss you?"

Feeling contrite, Jain apologized.

"That's okay," Joanie replied. "Besides, you're partially right. I do have another reason for calling. Betta talked to a friend of yours last night. Apparently, she's located a... sibling."

"Damn! Has she made contact with her... or him?"

"No, but she might have more information in few days. I tried to convince Betta to take a leave of absence and help her. Fat chance that'll happen. She insists it's not necessary and changing her mind is impossible."

"Maybe not impossible, but I know what you mean. Is there anything I can do?"

"Not really. I just wanted to give you an update. If I hear anything else, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Joanie. I miss all of you. Life is boring now that everyone's gone."

"For you, maybe. I wish I could say the same. Betta believes there are still a few operatives amongst the Royal Guard who were involved in killing Father."

"Are you safe?" Jain asked, worriedly.

"Perfectly! She'll weed them out. By the way, I'm thinking about taking a trip back to the States next month. Any chance of you putting up with two extra guests?"

Jain grinned. "The bed is made and the sheets clean. Drop in anytime. You're always welcome here. Ummm... Has Betta loosened up any? I mean, how is she dealing with her emerging feelings?"

"I honestly don't know, Jain. There are times I see progress and then she clams up and hardly talks."

"I imagine it's hard for her. She just needs time to evaluate everything she's going through. Don't worry too much about it for now," Jain advised. "Just be there for her."

"I'll always be that," Joanie replied. Something in her voice hinted at an emotion deeper than friendship. If Jain's suspicions were right, Joanie was falling in love with her guardian. Only time would tell. "I need to go now. I have a meeting with my financial minister. The African Union wants to open up new negotiations on oil prices. We're one of the last countries with a substantial reserve, thanks to Father. With Stalling dead, his religious movement is collapsing and now the Union wants to be our best friend."

"Some people have big ambitions and small visions," Jain said. "Just be careful. I don't trust anyone in that organization."

"I'll be careful."

"Good! And let me know when you hear from our friend. I've been worried about her."

"Will do. Take care, Jain."

"You too. Bye," Jain said. "Disconnect, Phoebe."

"Voice receptor is deactivated, Jain. While you were talking, I detected several infiltration attempts on your line and one message."

"Can you identify the source?"

"No, but the frequency signatures are similar to twenty-seven others in my database. I will continue my efforts to discover who the attempted intruders were."

"Thanks, Phoebe. What was the message?"

"You're welcome, Jain. Mrs. Watson has requested that you report to work one hour earlier. She has an appointment with her Physiologist and will be late."

"Physiologist," Jain said. "Pfft! Fancy name for a masseuse. Please call her back and let her know I received the message."

"Yes, Jain."

CHAPTER 10

Jain and Solaria

THRILLED TO KNOW Solaria was alive and well, Jain felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Six months was too long to be out of contact with her friend. Friend! If her associates knew Solaria was a Hubot, they would think Jain was crazy to consider a bio-mechanical creation in such a manner. As if they would believe a Hubot even existed, Jain thought, especially one as handsome as Solaria. Now, if I could just get her into my bed for some hanky-panky. Jain laughed. The thought was absurd. Solaria wasn't interested in sex. Besides, Jain would be the last one she'd turn to — after all, even Hubots knew the difference between good-looking and plain... and Jain was plain. Short and fat, with an average face, she had no illusions about her looks.

Except for my smile. I do have great teeth.

Jain giggled. What an absurd conversation she was having with herself. Yawning, she stood up and headed to the bathroom. Tomorrow was another workday and she needed a cold shower. Thinking of Solaria had stirred up some rather uncomfortable hormones. Perhaps fixing dinner for her and the dog would distract her from her lusty thoughts.

*  *  *

Rummaging through the refrigerator, Jain pulled out leftover meatloaf, cottage cheese and two cloverleaf rolls. After putting everything on the table, she grabbed a large plate and a saucer.

"I hope you like meatloaf and cottage cheese," she said, glancing down at the dog sitting patiently at her feet, watching her. "At least you have manners. Someone trained you well."

The dog cocked her head at a slight angle and woofed once. Golden-brown eyes stared at Jain intently for a few seconds and then blinked once.

"Is that yes, you were trained well or yes, you like meatloaf and cottage cheese?" Jain asked.

The dog barked twice.

"Okay then. That's either yes to both questions or you've chosen door number two." Filling the small dish with food, she placed it on the floor next to her chair and then sat down to eat her own dinner. Before she could take the first bite, she was interrupted by another woof. Looking down, she saw the saucer was empty.

"Damn! You are hungry. Here's another slice. If you finish this one before I'm done, you're going to have to wait. I want to enjoy my meal... something you obviously haven't learned yet." A low whine made her feel a little guilty.  "I'm just kidding. Eat as fast as you want."

The dog wagged her tail happily and began eating... slowly this time. Jain smiled.

"You learn quickly."

Turning back to her plate, she ate her own supper, occasionally glancing down at the dog. It continued to eat, taking little bites, chewing each one several times before swallowing. Then it would hesitate, look up at her and take the next bite.

Dogs don't eat like that, she thought. At least none that I've ever seen.

Reaching down, she handed the dog part of her roll. It tentatively took the offering.

"You definitely have manners. Someone must be missing you a lot."

Jain yawned. Exhausted, she decided to take a shower and call it a night. As a librarian, most of her time was spent filing away old books that had been returned, or assisting people with computers. Normally, it was a boring job but one she enjoyed. Occasionally, though, something exciting would happen. Jain smiled. Very exciting, she thought, remembering her first encounter with Solaria.

*  *  *

Solaria had come to the library to use the computers. Her insistence on using the same one every day aroused Jain's curiosity. Jain quickly discovered the settings had been tampered with and decided to investigate. When she backtracked the computer's history, she accidently hacked into the database of a company called Future Dynamicon. Homeland Security arrived the next day, but not before Jain had switched out the hard drive. Her dislike of the telecommunication company and the government made her want to protect Solaria, at least until she could learn more about the woman. The decision changed her life forever.

She discovered Solaria was a Hubot, part human, part machine. With her programmer's help, Solaria had escaped from Future Dynamicon. Jain and Solaria eventually uncovered documents providing detailed information on the existence of at least one other Hubot, and eventually tracked her down. Later, Jain returned to her boring life as a librarian. Betta decided to explore her evolving human emotions by protecting Joanie, a sheik's daughter that she had been guarding for Future Dynamicon. Solaria went in search of other Hubots and Jain returned to work.

CHAPTER 11

Scootie Screws Up

WHERE ARE YOU? Jain wondered, worried about Solaria. If you don't call soon, I'm going to... To what? Well, I'm going to do something. I'll think of what later. Unconsciously petting the dog lying on her lap, she realized it was almost bedtime. It sure didn't take you long to settle in. Even dogs have their price, huh? Okay, time for my shower.

Coaxing the animal off her lap, she laughed when it reluctantly stood, yawned and began stretching. First the right rear leg straightened and pushed backward. Then she repeated the procedure with her left leg and ended with a bow, her rump stuck in the air with her front legs stretched out in front of her.

"My, aren't you dainty," Jain said. "If you're finished, let's go to bed. I'm tired."

Cocking her head sideways, the dog gave Jain a toothy grin.

"Wawawoof."

"Don't wawawoof me. I'm in charge here," Jain declared.

"Rararara."

"Oh yeah, like I'm supposed to know what that means. Stay here if you want. I'm taking a shower. You can sleep on the floor or on the bed, just as long as you don't snore." Without waiting for a response, Jain headed to the bathroom.

That should show her who's boss.

Ten minutes later, she found the dog curled up on her pillow. Grimacing, Jain nudged her with her hand.

"Would you at least scoot over and give me some space?" When the dog stood and moved to the foot of the bed, Jain laughed. "Thanks. It's nice to see you don't talk back all the time."

"Pfffftttt," the dog responded, shaking her head. Curling in a small ball, she buried her nose under her right leg and closed her eyes.

*  *  *

The sheets were cool as Jain slipped between them, rolled onto her side and sighed. Within minutes she was asleep, her arms wrapped tightly around her pillow. Jain didn't know how long she had been sleeping before a noise woke her. Opening one eye, she looked blearily toward the door. The figure of a woman stood in the opening, silhouetted by the hall light. Jain had a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Solaria? Is that you?" she mumbled, blinking tiredly. "How did you get in?"

"You gave me the code, remember? I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Oh, that's okay. Are you hungry? I can —"

"No," Solaria said, walking slowly into the room. "At least not for food."

"Oh." Jain rubbed her eyes wearily. "OH!" she said again, suddenly realizing what Solaria had said.

Solaria smiled. Her teal eyes glowed brightly, giving her an almost demonic look.

"Oh, yes," she confirmed.

Jain swallowed nervously. This is a dream, she thought.

"Umm... Okay.

Solaria laughed softly.

"Do I make you nervous?"

Jain could only nod.

Solaria walked around the bed and started taking off her clothes. Jain closed her eyes, trying not to look. The temptation, though, was too great. She couldn't resist peeking through narrowed lids. The woman had a gorgeous body. As Solaria slipped under the sheet, she rolled onto her side and faced Jain, her head propped on her hand.

"This bed is quite comfortable. You know, you're very desirable, Jain. I've been waiting a long time for this."

This definitely isn't real. It's just a dream... but what a dream!

Solaria's face was now only a few inches away from Jain's. Jain's eyes widened.

"Why do I scare you so much?" Solaria asked.

"You're... You're so beautiful. I'm so plain."

"Never to me, Jain. I've always thought you were special." Sliding slightly closer, Solaria reached out to touch Jain's cheek. "Your eyes are amazing." The finger continued down Jain's neck and rested on the pulse pounding in her neck. "Your heart is racing."

"I've... I've never had someone so... so... Well, I'm just not sure what you want?"

"You!" Solaria whispered softly

"M... Me?"

"Yes, I want you. Just like you want me. You do want me, don't you?"

Jain laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. Of course she wanted Solaria. She had dreamed of having her so many times.

Not waiting for an answer, Solaria pushed up on one elbow and leaned toward Jain. Slowly she began unbuttoning the pajama top.

"I thought so. There's no reason for us to waste any more time," Solaria said and lowered her lips to Jain's breasts, kissing each one. "I love your breasts. They're so full, so soft."

Cupping one in her hand, Solaria lifted it carefully, making sure not to hurt Jain. Leaning closer, she inhaled slightly and noticed the faint scent of bath soap mixed in with something else — a musky odor, warm and pleasant.

"You smell nice."

Jain frowned. This seems so familiar. The thought dispelled some of the excitement she had started to feel.

"Does this bother you?" Solaria asked, sensing the change.

"N... No. It's just that... I feel like we've done this before."

Solaria smiled.

"Perhaps you have. You said you've dreamed of this."

Jain wasn't sure how to answer. Perhaps it was because there really wasn't a good one.

"Maybe." Jain was suddenly afraid. What if this is only a dream? She wanted so badly for it to be real. Placing her palms against Solaria's cheeks, she leaned upward, closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Solaria's. When she didn't get a response, she opened her eyes and looked at the face just inches away. A big toothy grin greeted her and then a wet tongue darted out to lick her nose.

"Damn!" Jain exclaimed, wiping it dry and sitting up. "Scootie!" she yelled, not realizing she had just named the dog. Scootie immediately jumped away, her tail wagging happily. The look on her face was clear: Gotcha!

"You brat! You're so proud of yourself, aren't you?" Grabbing the dog, Jain wrestled with her a bit before putting her to the side. "That was the best dream yet and you go and wake me up with a sloppy kiss," she chastised, shaking her finger at the dog. "Now you're just going to have to wait until I take another shower — a cold one, dammit."

"Woof!" Scootie protested by doing a quick circle on the bed, then sat down.

"Don't talk back to me. I pay the mortgage. That makes me the Alpha. Now off with you." Jain waved her hands in a shooing motion and then laughed when Scootie plopped down on the blanket and cocked her head to the side. Before Jain could say something, Scootie jumped up, licked her left hand and then bounded off the bed. Running to the bathroom door, she nuzzled it open and stepped inside.

"Woowoof!" she barked, looking expectantly at Jain.

"Well, aren't you in a hurry!" Jain said.

"Woowoof!"

"Alright, alright! I'm coming. Keep your voice down. You'll wake the neighbors." Climbing out of bed, Jain strolled into the bathroom. The slick feeling between her thighs reminded her of the dream and she sighed. I knew it was too good to be true.

"It's all your fault," she growled, giving Scootie a stern look.

Scootie sniffed the air, shook her head vigorously and trotted out of the bathroom. Her message was quite clear: NOT!

*  *  *

"I've decided to keep you but only until your owner shows up," Jain promised Scootie the next morning. Secretly she hoped the owner never would. "We'll just have to see what happens."

Standing by the door, Scootie barked twice while Jain washed the dishes.

"After I'm done," she said, ignoring the dog. When Scootie trotted over, grabbed Jain's pant leg in her teeth and tugged, Jain sprinkled water on the dog's head. "I said when I'm done. I hate cold dishwater."

Looking up at Jain, Scootie shook off the drops. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Uh oh! I'm not sure I like that look, Jain thought.

Scootie circled once next to Jain, lifted her leg and squirted Jain's pant leg. It was a small squirt but spoke volumes. Then she trotted to the front door and stared at it, refusing to look back. Stunned, Jain stared in shock at the wet spot.

"That's not funny," she scolded, grabbing the dishcloth and throwing it at the insolent dog. "Not funny at all," she mumbled. Still, the humor of the situation didn't escape her. Scootie had tried to tell her she wanted to go out. Bending down, she rubbed the pee spot with the washrag and then tossed it in the sink.

My favorite pair of slacks, too.

She walked to the door and knelt down next to Scootie.

"I'll make a deal with you, brat. You be a little more patient in the future, and I'll give you a special treat as a reward."

"Waawoof."

"I'll take that as a yes. Alright, let's go."

Looping the leash around Scootie's neck, Jain and her new companion headed out the door.

CHAPTER 12

Chantelle

"WHAT ARE YOU doing now?" Jain asked, tugging on the leash. Scootie looked up and wagged her tail.

"Waaawoof!"

"Okay, okay. I know you like that spot but nothing about it has changed in the last six days. Could you just pee so we can go inside? It's going to start raining soon."

Shaking her head vigorously, Scootie sniffed again at the area near the wall. Then she raised her leg and urinated. A small puddle formed about eighteen inches from the building.

"Now isn't that ladylike," Jain said. "And you couldn't even hit the bricks."

Giving her an indignant look, Scootie gave a final squirt and then trotted toward Jain's place. Jain had no choice but to follow.

"Oh sure, suddenly you're the one in a hurry. Well the next time you can just go out by yourself."

The look Scootie gave Jain spoke volumes. She didn't believe a word Jain had said. Both of them knew who was in charge. Standing by the bottom step, Scootie looked back at the spot where she had peed.

"Rarrarrh, grrrrrrr."

"Yeah, right," Jain agreed. I wish I knew what was bothering you. A tug on the leash and loud clap of thunder reminded her of the approaching storm. Grimacing, she turned too quickly and accidently bumped into a woman.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized.

"No, it's my fault," the woman said. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Cute dog. Is she friendly?"

"Scootie? I suppose." Jain realized her answer seemed bizarre when the woman gave her a strange look. "Oh, I've only had her a few days, so I'm really not sure how she acts around strangers."

"I see. Do you mind if I pet her?"

"No."

The woman knelt and held out her hand. Immediately Scootie moved forward and sniffed the palm. Tail wagging, the dog gave it a lick and then sat down.

"She's certainly well trained."

"Wawawoof!" the dog barked.

"And smart. Too smart, I think. I swear she knows what I'm saying. By the way, I'm Jain. Are you new to the neighborhood?"

"I'm Chantelle, and no, just visiting a friend nearby. Well, I really do need to go. It's nice meeting you."

"You too. Maybe we'll meet up again."

"Maybe we will," Chantelle replied. Waving, she walked away.

"Nice lady, eh Scootie?"

"Wawawaaa."

"I guess that's a yes. Let's get inside and I'll make you some warm milk. How's that sound?"

"Wawwoof."

CHAPTER 13

The Cloak of Invisibility

PRIMERIS HAD BEEN waiting forty minutes outside of Jain's condo. Nearby, two teenagers were practicing aerial stunts on a homemade ramp. The construction was primitive but adequate.

The cloak surrounding her was functioning within design specifications. She was invisible. Primeris was skeptical about the cloak's potential usefulness in the field. At the moment, though, it was providing her the cover she needed. The optical meta-material configuration was able to bend light around the cloak, creating a negative refraction. The end result was an illusion that captured environmental elements surrounding the wearer, mimicking the background. Thumbnail-sized computers continually adjusted the images, compensating for irregularities, and then transferred them onto the cloak's surface.

Primeris was aware that the smallest flaw could compromise her position. One such concern was the faint subsonic hum pulsating through the nano-optic fibers. Since it wasn't detectable by human ears, it had been worth the risk testing the device. For almost three weeks, she had staked out the librarian's place unobserved — except for the dog that had recently arrived. It either heard the low-frequency noise or was picking up her scent. These problems needed to be resolved before the cloak was ready for the field.

Unfortunately, there was another thing the cloak's designers hadn't anticipated: dog pee! Primeris stood motionless as the warm liquid oozed into her shoe.

You urinated on me, she thought and then questioned her own reaction. The only word to describe it was stunned. That was a human emotion... or was it? Animals aren't predictable. It's logical not to anticipate such an event, she reasoned.

The smell was unpleasant, but not unbearably so. Some of the urine had penetrated the cloak's material and seeped into her left shoe. Wiggling her toes, she concentrated on raising the temperature of her foot to evaporate the moisture. The odor lessened but didn't disappear completely, a constant reminder that she was still wearing a sock saturated with body waste. Nothing in her training or data banks had prepared her for such an experience.

Under other circumstances, allowing herself to be discovered, even by a dog, could have proved disastrous. The girls' activities had been a distraction. So was the woman standing fifty meters to her left... and now she was dealing with the dog's unwanted attention.

*  *  *

The woman had arrived the previous day. Primeris had no doubt she was aware of her presence, even under the invisibility of the cloak. The stranger's gaze never wavered from the spot where Primeris was standing.

Who are you? Primeris asked. She had spent half the night searching databases for images that matched the woman's facial specifications. Although there had been several likenesses, the hunt came up negative, leaving Primeris perplexed. Every citizen and resident in the U.S. was required to register with Homeland Security, all under the guise of national security. A few did manage to avoid the system, but it was rare. Apparently this woman was one of them. The alternative was that she was an operative for another government organization. Colonel Cranley wouldn't like that.

CHAPTER 14

The Dilemma

PRIMERIS STOOD perfectly still as the woman approached her.

"I know you're there," she said. "Whatever you're using to make you invisible hums. If I can hear it, so can others."

Never had Primeris been indecisive about anything. She was now. Deactivating the cloak in such a public place wasn't possible. Eliminating the woman wasn't an option, either. Too many people were milling about. If she could lure the woman away to a more a more secluded spot... The thought of killing her was disturbing.

I can temporarily neutralize her until I find out who she is. Then I'll decide what needs to be done.

Primeris moved toward the alley. The darkness would provide the cover she needed. As anticipated, the woman followed, but stopped short of the entrance.

"I'm not a fool... and neither are you," the woman said, then walked by.

*  *  *

Frustration! It had to be, Primeris thought. What else could cause her processors to behave so erratically? Questions and probabilities were racing through her neural network, trying to come up with a logical reason why the woman hadn't followed her into the alley. Obviously she felt threatened, although she really didn't act afraid. Revealing her awareness of Primeris was risky. Primeris sensed the woman wasn't stupid. None of her actions made sense.

Removing the cloak, Primeris switched it off and placed it in a small silver case. Impulsively, and very much out of character, she stepped into the light, wanting the woman to look back at her. When she didn't, Primeris' left eyelid fluttered. Confused, she reached up to touch it. Twitches were a human characteristic, normally a symptom of nervousness. Hubots were never nervous.

A quick diagnostic revealed a small glitch in a subprogram. Primeris was relieved. That explained everything she had been feeling. She could correct the problem later. Discovering more about the woman was now her priority. Solaria would have to wait, even though Colonel Cranley was growing impatient.

CHAPTER 15

Major Simpson

IT HAD BEEN ALMOST two weeks since Colonel Cranley's last debriefing of Primeris.

Too long, he thought.

Something needed to be done. Summoning his assistant, he motioned for Major Simpson to sit.

"John, I think we have a problem," he said, holding out a cigar and then lighting it.

Inhaling deeply, Simpson leaned back in the chair and relaxed. He had been Cranley's right-hand man for over fifteen years.

"What is it, Colonel?" he asked.

Colonel Cranley smiled. One of the things he liked most about Simpson was how well he understood military protocol. They had known each other for over twenty-three years and yet the major never forgot who was in charge.

"It's that damned Hubot."

"Primeris? What's she done?" Major Simpson asked.

"It's not what she's done. It's what she hasn't done. She's been trying to find one of the escaped Hubots for the past several months and hasn't gotten anywhere."

"I thought she was on to something."

"That's what she said. I'm beginning to think she really doesn't want us to capture this other one," Cranley said.

"Now why wouldn't she? She's always completed her assignments," the major replied.

"That's just it. She's always completed her assignment... and quickly. Why is it taking her so long now? I think she's stalling us."

"Why? What motive would she have to screw this one up?"

Colonel Cranley walked around his desk and sat down. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together.

"These things aren't stupid. The escaped Hubot, Solaria, is a newer model. Capturing her would threaten Primeris' position here. She'll be obsolete."

"Somewhat, but she would still be useful. She's a good operative. We could assign her less critical missions... and there's that other Hubot that's still out there. Between Solaria and Primeris, she should be easy pickin's. Does Primeris know about Betta?" Simpson asked, slowly exhaling smoke.

"Nothing concrete and I don't want her to. Solaria is our primary concern. Her enhancements far exceed the first prototypes. We can deal with Betta later."

"Well, it's not like the Committee is going to scrap a couple of multi-million dollar inventions, even if we do recover Solaria. The nice thing about computers is we can always reprogram them, even if they are super intelligent."

"And that may be the problem. Primeris is smart — too smart, if you ask me. We've already lost two Hubots. What's to stop Primeris from eventually going rogue, too?"

Simpson shrugged.

"Nothing, if there aren't safety mechanisms in place to control her. We know it's only a matter of time before these things begin questioning their orders. That's why the programmers created the internal fail-safes for them — they can be remotely deactivated if need be."

Cranley scoffed.

"Sure. Look how well it's worked so far. I'll be damned if I'm going to depend on those idiots now." Leaning back in his chair, Cranley interlocked his fingers and rested his hands on his stomach. "No, I think it's time we took the initiative. I want Primeris back here and a diagnostic run on her."

"Okay, but that may not be easy. She hasn't checked in with us for about a week. We can't activate her position transmitter without alerting her that something is up."

"I know. That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard of," Cranley said. "Scientists should never be allowed to make such important decisions."

"At the time it made sense. No one expected Hubots would go independent... and any transmissions from them could accidently be picked up if another subversive group discovered the right frequency. They think that's what happened with the others. Primeris was modified to make sure that didn't happen." Opening a file on his desk, Cranley shoved it toward Simpson. "We may not need to track her. Here's her last report. Check this woman's place."

Simpson glanced at the file.

"Jain Plaine, librarian. Why would a Hubot get involved with a librarian?"

"I don't know. At least it's a lead."

Standing, Simpson stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray on his boss' desk.

"I'll get on it," he said. "Anyone in particular you want assigned the mission?"

"Handle this yourself. And Simpson... When you find Primeris, call me. Hopefully she won't give you any trouble, but if she does, use whatever force you need."

"Yes sir," Simpson replied and saluted.

After he had left, Cranley picked up a photo and stared at it.

The name sure fits. You're about as plain as they come. Grimacing, he put it back down, closed the folder and looked at his watch. I guess I'll get some chow.

Book II
Past Imperfect

CHAPTER 1

1916 A.D. The Early Years

MAGGIE WAS A solitary child who never dwelled on her loneliness. It was the way of the Healer, even before they ever understood their destiny. From the moment she had been whisked away to her new life, she had been warned that with her gift came great burdens. Loneliness was the least of them.

Her early years were memorable. A child never forgets the sadness of neglect or feeling unloved. Had she simply been ordinary, her life would probably have ended tragically. Instead, her uniqueness gave her the opportunity to experience a life few could ever imagine.

Maggie was a born healer. Her parents discovered her gift when she turned five. The family pet, a small aging terrier named Alice, had been mauled by a neighbor's dog. Alice was dying. Unsympathetic, Maggie's dad grew irritated at his daughter's distress.

"It's just a dog, for Christ's sake," he snapped, ignoring the tears flowing down his daughter's cheeks. "And stop that damn crying." Grabbing a shovel, he began digging a hole.

"Daddy, please," Maggie begged, clutching the limp body in her arms.

"Please, what? It's dead, or soon will be. Be thankful I'm burying her instead of throwing her in the garbage."

Sniffling, Maggie wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"I can make her better, daddy. Pleeease, I can make her better."

"Sure you can. You'd better do it quick, because when I'm finished with this hole, I'll be making her better permanently." Maynerd continued digging. "And I said stop crying. You're driving me nuts."

The sobbing stopped and was immediately replaced by an almost inaudible humming. Maynerd glanced at his daughter and shook his head.

Stupid kid! All this over a mutt.

Throwing the shovel on the ground, he reached for the dog and then hesitated. Nestled in Maggie's arms, Alice stared back at him, her upper lip curled as a warning.

"What the —" Pulling the dog from Maggie, he held Alice up and examined her. "What did you do?"

"I made her better, daddy, like I said."

"Made her... How?"

"I hummed to her. It always makes her feel better. Are you mad?"

Maynerd smiled and handed Alice back to Maggie.

"No. No, not at all. You did fine. Real fine. Let's go find mommy. She's going to be very happy to see Alice is okay."

And we're going to be rich.

*  *  *

Huddled around an old kitchen table, Maggie's parents planned their future. For years, they had made a fairly decent living conning people. Soon that life would be behind them, thanks to their daughter.

"We'll make a killing," Maynerd said, pouring another glass of wine for himself. "I always knew that girl was special."

"Yeah right, Manny. That's why you kept wanting to pawn her off on my grandparents," Candice replied as she picked up her husband's wine glass and downed the contents. "Well, you got me to thank for keeping her with us. A mother knows what's best for her kid."

Maynerd snorted and grabbed his glass back.

"You keep drinking like that and your liver's gonna crap out on you. As for your motherly instincts, we both know there ain't a maternal bone in your body. Not that I blame you. Maggie has always been a difficult child. Who'd have guessed all that caterwaulin' would make us rich."

"She's singin', you idiot," Candice said. "That's how she makes them better. I should have seen what was goin' on a long time ago. She ain't been sick since the day she was born."

"Maybe if you crawled out of your bottle now and then you'd have seen this sooner. Then we wouldn't be living in this dump."

"Fuck you! You got no room to talk. How come you didn't notice anything before now?"

"Alright, alright," Manny conceded. "No use us fighting over something we can't change. Tomorrow we're gonna show the world what she can do. People will pay a fortune to get healed. Hell, I bet we even get a Pulitzer Prize or something."

Candice snorted.

"That's for journalists, you idiot."

While they continued celebrating their good fortune, neither knew Maggie's future would not be determined by their greed but rather by the love of two strangers who had been monitoring the child for almost a year. That night, Marina and Doreen spirited her far away and into another life. Maggie was given a new name: Chantelle. Singer! It suited her. Raised by her new, loving moms, she never once thought about her biological parents — even after a hundred and sixty-one years.

CHAPTER 2

Sisterhood of Singers - The Gathering 1943

TWENTY-THREE SINGERS sat around the fires as a cold wind howled past the entrance of the small cave. Some had traveled halfway around the world to attend the two-day meeting. Their journeys were long and arduous, but no one was willing to miss this particular gathering. It would be the last assemblage at Tabor Cave. The mayor of a nearby village had plans to develop the ice caves into a tourist attraction. Although it was doubtful anyone would visit the place during the harsh winter months, the Singers couldn't chance being discovered.

"I weel mees thees place," Syblis said, glancing at the tall pinnacles of stalagmites rising majestically from the floor of the second cavern a few meters away. "Eet eez my eighth gathering here."

Chantelle nodded empathetically. "This is my first. It's so peaceful here. Already I feel as if it's a part of me."

"Yes. Eet's one of the few places that truly heals a Seenger's emotional wounds. There are many sanctuaries for Healers, but few as special as thees one." Syblis appeared to grow pensive. Her eyes strayed to the small dog dozing next to Chantelle. "Does she go weeth you everywhere?"

"Most of the time. Jenny seems to know when she can come and when she can't."

"Perhaps she has the geeft too."

Chantelle stroked Jenny's head lovingly and smiled when the dog opened a golden-brown eye and made contact. "Perhaps. I wonder if other animals have their own version of Healers."

"I don't theenk they need them... Not een the way humanity does. We eexist because we are a troubled species... arrogant."

"I know. Still, I feel better when Jenny's with me... and so do my patients. There must be a reason, right girl?"

"You are lucky to have someone, eeven a leetle dog," Syblis said.

Looking at her friend, Chantelle noticed a great sadness in her eyes.

"You're thinking of Ciena, aren't you?"

"Yes, I weesh she had held on a leetle longer. I theenk she would have forgeeven herself eef she had bathed een the glory of our Sacred Mother. Thees cave eez alive weeth her eenergy."

"You still believe in the Sacred Mother?" Chantelle asked. "With all that you've been through, do you really think there's something out there guiding us?"

Syblis smiled unapologetically. "Sometheeng? No. The Sacred Mother? Oui. To believe otherwise would make life eentolerable. She geeves me purpose. At my age, I am desperately een need of that."

"At your age? You've barely touched middle-age," Chantelle replied and scrunched her face up like an old hag. "Two-hundred-seventy-eight isn't old."

Syblis laughed.

"Tell me that een ninety years. You are steel young. You glory een your youth. For you, just being alive eez geeft enough."

Chantelle was about to object when Syblis held up her hand.

"Enough talk about age. Eet depresses me. Besides, age eez eerelevant. My life eez een the hands of the Sacred Mother. Only she knows how long any of us weel live."

"I envy you your faith," Chantelle said.

Wrapping her right arm around the young Healer, Syblis gave her a quick squeeze. "Perhaps eet eez because I can see what others can't that makes eet so strong. Eet's easy to believe when one sees the future."

"Maybe. I'm not so sure that's a gift I'd want."

"Eet's not for everyone. Neither eez faith. Each of us must find our own streength. Your weel and determination eez what works for you. Eet makes you strong."

Raising her other arm, Syblis motioned toward the other women who were gathered in small groups around the fires. Some chatted quietly while others listened and nodded their heads, unconsciously agreeing with what was being said. Two Singers sat by themselves, deep in thought, although not completely oblivious to the conversations around them.

"Look at us. We are what eez left of the Seesterhood. Once we were many. Now we're few. Only twenty-three of us and I'm the last Seer Seenger. We're immune from seekness and yet rarely reach old age. Ironical, eez eet not? Accideents or murderous supersteetious fools who believe us weetches or demonesses have deceemated our numbers, but many... too many have taken their own lives."

Chantelle frowned. Healers didn't condemn Healers, especially Singers.

"Are you saying they were weak?"

Patting Chantelle's thigh, Syblis shook her head.

"Of course not, Cherié. I honor all who sacrifice so much. Our Seesters deed what they had to. I only say that my faith serves me well. Those who don't believe in sometheeng must be extra strong and veegilant. Your strength eez to be admired and envied. I don't know how you do eet."

"I'm a Healer. It's what we do," Chantelle said and sighed sadly. "But Ciena and Flarea... they were such gentle souls. Why did they get Mengele and Belle Gunness? Those monsters should have gone to the Vitiates."

Syblis understood Chantelle's confusion. She too agonized over the loss of the two Singers.

"That's not for us to say. Choice eez not an option for Healer or Vitiate."

"Can we be so sure, Syblis? Have you ever met one?"

"Once, a long time ago. Eet eez an experience I weel never forget."

"Was it that awful?" Chantelle asked. "I've heard others say the same thing, but no one wants to talk about it."

"Awful? No, but uncomfortable. The energy between us was bad so we went our separate ways queekly. Perhaps that eez why we know so leetle about their Order."

"I'd like to meet one someday."

"Be careful what you weesh for, Chantelle. There eez a reason why Vitiate and Healer don't interact, even eef we don't know what eet eez."

"Maybe. I'd still like to know more about them. We're told they provide balance to the Healers and yet no one can tell us how. We save people only to have some do horrible things. What could a Vitiate do that we don't do already?"

"There is purpose to everything," Syblis replied. "Helping those who do horrible theengs seems contradeectory to our meession. Humans are stubborn. Een our arrogance we theenk we know what's best for everyone. You mentioned Josef Mengele. He eez a good reminder of the eener demons lurking witheen each of us."

"He was a monster," Chantelle said, remembering the stories she had heard about him.

Josef Mengele! His Number was 1,324,567, one of the highest figures in Healer history.

His research on prisoners in the concentration camps of Germany during WWII was an abomination. Intelligent, Mengele expressed an early interest in anthropology and the sciences. In 1936, he passed his medical exams and quickly accepted a job working at a local clinic.

When WWII broke out, Mengele enlisted in the military and was critically injured in combat. It was Ciena who sat by his bed day and night, softly singing his body well. Overworked doctors and nurses stopped to listen to her songs, unable to understand the words but mesmerized by the haunting tunes. Eventually, they returned to their duties, energized and at peace with their burdens.

Once Mengele was pronounced stable, the young caregiver disappeared and was soon forgotten. The feeling of well-being vanished. Everyone continued with their duties, exhaustion making them impatient and insensitive to the needs of the injured and sick. Such was the power of the Singer and of their absence.

The war moved on, as did Mengele. Unable to return to his duties as a soldier, he was transferred to Auschwitz. There he earned the nickname "the Angel of Death," committing atrocities that few could ever imagine, thousands would never forget and humanity would forever remember.

Sadly, Ciena eventually heard his final Number and was unable to live with that burden. She killed herself. The Healers mourned her death. The Sisters were devastated. Ciena was one of the most beloved of the Singers, happy and gregarious. Some, however, secretly envied her for the courage it had taken to end her life. Suicide went against everything they believed in.

Shaking her head slowly, Chantelle decided not to dwell on Mengele. Many others were less spectacular with smaller numbers, but equally fascinating. Numbers weren’t always about people directly affected, but rather about future consequences.

"And Gunness? What does she remind us of? Her Number was twenty — exceptionally low by our standards, and yet she was still brutal."

Syblis gave Chantelle a mischievous grin.

"Brutal, oui! She weel remind men that women aren't always meek or mild. Her husbands and boyfriends paid dearly for wooing her."

"So much for love."

"Her Number wasn't about love. Eet was greed. The veectims weren't exactly eennocent. She had land and needed money. They had nothing but were eensurable — not always a great combeenation."

Chantelle sighed and nodded.

"I guess. Sometimes I have doubts about what we do. It feels wrong saving the evil, especially when we learn how high their Numbers become. I wonder if the world wouldn't be better if we just let them die."

Syblis shook her head.

"I too question our calling at times. Then I theenk of Yehoshua of Nazareth. Had Mariamne of Magdala not gotten to heem after the crucifeexion, he would have died and the world would be a poorer place."

"That's what I mean. Look at all the good that has been done in his name. We've yet to know his or Mariamne's Numbers," Chantelle said.

"We never weel," Syblis countered. "They change constantly because of their followers. No matter how good they were, some weel abuse that goodness. Yehoshua believed Mariamne was sent by God to heal heem. Our records say that she was one of our greatest Singers. I theenk maybe the greatest. Who can really say?"

"I wonder if they did stay together afterward, like our records indicate," Chantelle asked.

Syblis shrugged.

"Does eet really matter? Sightings een the Meedle East and even as far as North America have been documented. I believe eet was them... but that's only because I'm a romantic, and eet geeves me hope for the rest of us. Now, we join the others. Thees eez not the time for melancholy or doubts. Soon we must move on. Besides, Lecoudre needs a break from hees screebling."

As Syblis was about to stand, Chantelle grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"Syblis, can I ask you one more question?"

"Certainly. What eez eet?"

"It's Lecoudre. For as long as Singers have existed, they have always been women. I know the Keepers of our Chronicles can be a man or a woman, but why has he been allowed into the Sisterhood?"

"Why are there no male Seengers? Why do we even exeest? I don't have those answers, Cherié," Syblis replied. "Besides Lecoudre eez not of the Seesterhood. He records our heestory. Keepers have always been weeth us. When one dies, another appears. There have only been eleven males een the entire heestory of the Healers, so he must be special. Xylena says he remembers everytheeng, even those events that occurred when she was a young woman barely older than you. Seence those were recorded by the previous Keeper, their method of passing on eenformation must be phenomenal. Why do you ask? Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"No, not at all. He's a wonderful person. I'm merely curious. No one talks about him. I asked my moms, but they didn't know much either. I was hoping you knew more, that's all."

Syblis' lips curled in a faint smile.

"Perhaps you ask the wrong people. Lecoudre eez best to answer your questions."

"I may do that one day. For now, though, let's just go and enjoy the others. Ten years is a long time between visits."

"Eet can be," Syblis agreed. Jumping to her feet, she extended her hand toward Chantelle. "Come. Time grows short."

Walking to the edge of the center fire, Syblis held up her hands, motioning for everyone to gather around.

"Seesters! And you, Lecoudre... no more small gosseep. We have only a few hours left before sunrise. Share weeth us your hopes, joys and dreams so that we may all take a small piece of you weeth us until the next gathering. Who weel be first? Lecoudre needs to know everytheeng," she teased. Several women laughed.

"You!" the women shouted in unison, pointing at Syblis. Although the Healer wasn't the oldest, she was the most gregarious. Life was filled with disillusionment for most, but Syblis always managed to put hers aside and move on with optimism.

Grinning, Syblis nodded her head and began a tale of her next great adventure. Everyone listened attentively, honored that she was so willing to share a small part of her future.

CHAPTER 3

The Calling — 2098 A.D.

THE COOL TEMPERATURE inside the cab felt good. Chantelle closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The world had changed a lot in the last hundred and seventy years, but people were basically the same. Most went about their lives, intentionally oblivious to the scheming of the ambitious politicians and military leaders. Doing so allowed them the security they sought but humanity paid a great price for ignorant bliss.

We could be so much more if people cared. Then what purpose would Healers serve? I'd be out of a job.

It was an amusing thought. At the moment, though, she needed to focus on her mission. She had found her patient and had spent several days watching her.

Watching nothing is more like it. Whatever is concealing you cost a lot of money. That can only mean the government is involved. And why are you so interested in that woman and dog?

She could feel the energy change whenever the two appeared. Today it had spiked higher when the dog peed. Chantelle barely contained her laughter. The dog's aim was precise. When Chantelle sensed the woman was leaving, she decided to make her own mark. Following her to the alley, she stopped short of the entrance. It would be foolish to enter.

"I'm not a fool... and neither are you," she said and turned to walk away. Waves of frustration flowed from the alley. Tomorrow would be interesting.

CHAPTER 4

Orders

AFTER TWO DAYS of surveillance, Major Simpson had all the proof he needed to deactivate Primeris. Locating her hadn't been difficult. Her debriefings provided enough information to find her.

Cranley was right about you, he thought as he watched a young woman follow Primeris to the alley and say something. Even though Primeris was cloaked, he was able to track her movements thanks to the detection equipment developed by the unit's science department. The small screen identified electron waves bending around unseen objects. Simpson couldn't help but find it funny that the government had spent billions creating the cloak only to develop the technology to neutralize it. For covert military application, the device was useless. Not my problem. Shit, where'd you go? The tracker was no longer picking up Primeris' signal. Tapping on the screen, he powered the device down and then restarted it, hoping it was only a glitch. Distracted, Simpson wasn't aware Primeris was standing next to him until he looked up.

Fuck! His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Flipping the lid shut, he pocketed the device and glanced nervously up and down the street to see if anyone had noticed them.

"Primeris," he said. "It's good to see you."

"Major Simpson, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Straight to the point as always, I see. The colonel asked me to check on you. He's concerned about you."

"Colonel Cranley has no feelings for me. His only concern is the mission."

"Well, yes. Still, you're a vital part of the unit. We don't want anything happening to you... which brings me back to why I'm here. Cranley wants you to report to Diagnostics for some system checks. You're long overdue."

"He thinks I'm malfunctioning."

"Of course not. He only wants to be sure you're operating at optimum efficiency. For your own good, Primeris."

"I'm working at ninety-eight percent efficiency."

"There, you see! You need a little tweaking," he said, relieved that he had something to grab onto.

"It's impossible to achieve one-hundred percent, Major Simpson. Your scientists managed a ninety-six point three. I did the tweaking necessary to raise it to ninety-eight."

Not good! he thought. The last thing we need is machines playing around with their own programs.

"Oh, well... Ummm... Still, it's an order. Just report to the Diagnostic Unit tomorrow. I'm sure you'll pass the examination."

"What about my assignment?"

"We'll see. If everything turns out normal, there's no reason not to return you to duty. Now, update me on the specifics here and then return to headquarters for a complete debriefing. The sooner you do what you have to, the sooner you can report back for duty."

*  *  *

Primeris had never been removed from a mission. The ramifications of failure meant reprogramming and memory wipes — a total loss of identity, something she wasn't willing to sacrifice. It wasn't rational. She knew a system check would confirm her programs were functioning properly. Whether the colonel would be satisfied was another issue. Briefing Simpson on what she knew, Primeris deliberately left out the details about the woman who had followed her to the alley.

I'll decide what to do with her, Primeris thought.

*  *  *

Major Simpson watched Primeris get into her car and leave. With her out of the way, he could carry out his own plan. The two civilians needed to be interrogated and he was just the person who could do it.

Book III
Perfect Future

CHAPTER 1

Captured

COLONEL CRANLEY entered the interrogation room, glanced at the two women sitting in the chairs, and frowned. He hadn't expected to see anyone but the librarian, who he recognized from a surveillance snapshot. Motioning the Major over, his voice lowered to barely a whisper.

"Who's she?" he demanded, motioning toward Chantelle with his head.

"I don't know yet, but she knows Primeris and may also know about the cloak," Simpson replied.

"How the hell can she know about the cloak?"

Simpson shrugged. "Maybe she works for another branch of the government. All I know is: I saw her follow Primeris while she was cloaked. And she spoke to her."

"She spoke to Primeris? What did she say? What did Primeris say?"

"Primeris didn't say anything. This woman's exact words were, 'I'm not a fool... and neither are you.'"

"What the hell does that mean?" Cranley demanded.

"Beats me. I decided to bring her in, just to be safe. Intelligence is trying to find out who she is."

"Did you ask her?"

"Of course. She calls herself Chantelle, but refuses to give her last name and denies any knowledge of the cloak or Primeris."

"You asked her about the cloak? You actually mentioned the cloak?"

"How else could I find out what she knew?" Simpson asked, looking uncomfortable.

Cranley shook his head. Fucking idiot!

"Well she certainly knows about it now, if she didn't then. Did you happen to consider the woman may have been talking to herself?"

Simpson stiffened slightly.

"I'm not an idiot, Colonel. I know what I saw and the Audiosenser will confirm what I told you she said. She knows about more than she's saying."

"Alright! Find out who she is. With our resources that shouldn't be difficult. In the meantime, we'll focus on the librarian. She shouldn't be too difficult to crack." Turning to Jain, he circled her chair like a cat sizing up a mouse. "I'm sure you're wondering what this is about, Ms. Plaine," he said.

"You're damn right I am. This is kidnapping and totally illegal."

Colonel Cranley laughed. Civilians were so predictable.

"Please, Ms. Plaine. Nothing we do is illegal when national security is involved. I believe you have vital information that will help us recover some government property that's gone... well, let's say astray. Once we have it back, you can go home."

"I don't know what you're talking about. What property?"

"Ms. Plaine, don't play me for a fool. You know who I'm talking about."

"Who? I thought you said it was property you lost," Jain said. "Not that it makes any difference. I haven't a clue as to who or what you're talking about and I sure as hell haven't taken anything belonging to the government."

"Of course not. No one's accusing you of that. Perhaps I've misstated things," the colonel said, not wanting to give too much away if she didn't know about the Hubots. "You know how the military is. We think of everyone who works for the government as property. What I meant was, we're trying to find someone who has taken an unauthorized leave. It's vital that we get in contact with her. I believe you may know her."

"I know a lot of military people, Captain."

"It's Colonel. I'd have thought you knew better, Miss Plaine. Librarians are normally well-educated people."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you." Jain's sarcasm was unmistakable. "My expertise is limited to the Dewey Decimal."

Colonel Cranley was quickly losing patience. He didn't like being mocked, especially by civilians.

"You know, Miss Plaine, I'm trying to be nice to you. Apparently you don't appreciate my efforts, so let's stop playing games. Where is Solaria?"

"Solaria? Solaria who?" Jain asked, making eye contact with Cranley.

"That's not your concern."

"Then why ask me about her? Does she come to the library? What does she look like? And why would you think I'd know her?"

"You tell me," Cranley countered.

"This is ridiculous. I don't know anyone named Solaria and you won't give me any information about her. At least tell me her last name — I can check the library's registry. You certainly didn't have to go to this much trouble for that. A simple call would have sufficed."

Cranley's eyes narrowed with barely suppressed anger. He suspected Jain was playing games with him.

You must think I'm a fool, lady.

"Listen! Why not make this easy on yourself? If not for you, then for her," he said, motioning suggestively toward the other woman. "No one wants to hurt you. Just tell me what you know."

"I already told you I don't know her."

Sighing, the colonel signaled one of the uniformed men forward.

"I don't think you realize the seriousness of this situation. It's critical we retrieve our property," he said and turned to the soldier. "You know what to do, Corporal Isaac."

Isaac saluted and then grinned. Leaning down, he backhanded Jain across her right cheek, snapping her head to the left.

"Listen, fatty, Colonel Cranley asked you a question. He's a lot nicer than me."

Tears streamed down Jain's face. "I... I don't know..." Her voice trembled from the pain.

"You're lying! Tell us what we want to know and it'll go a lot easier on you," Isaac threatened.

Jain shook her head.

"You think you're tough, eh?" The soldier leaned closer, his face barely six inches from her own. His grin turned into a smug smile. "Good! I like tough broads, even fat ones. Maybe once we're finished here, we can spend a little time together. Would you like that?"

When Jain refused to answer him, he frowned.

"Sure you would. Ugly women are grateful for a little dick."

"Most women seem to prefer big ones," Jane said sarcastically.

Straightening angrily, Isaac backhanded Jain harder, snapping her head again to the left. She groaned as blood trickled from a split in her lower lip.

"You have a smart mouth. I know the perfect way to shut it up." To emphasize his meaning, Isaac grabbed his crotch and tugged on it suggestively.

"Corporal!" Colonel Cranley barked. "We're here for information, not to satisfy your damn libido."

"Yes, sir!" he replied, glancing at the colonel apologetically. "Sorry. Lady, just tell us where the Hubot is," Isaac said, turning back to Jain.

"What... What's a Hubot? I don't know anything about... about a Hubot. I'm just a librarian."

"Yeah, and I'm the fuckin' President," he replied.

Jain swallowed the bloody saliva that was pooling in her mouth. She could feel the warm fluid trickling down her chin.

This isn't like the movies. The thought made her laugh, a nervous reaction to the pain and fear she was feeling.

The soldier's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed angrily.

"You think this is fuckin' funny, bitch?" he screamed. Making a fist, he slammed it against her left jaw. Jain slumped forward, unconscious.

"That's enough," Cranley ordered, grabbing the soldier's collar and yanking him backward. "She can't answer questions like that, you idiot. Wake her up." Turning to the other woman, he pointed at Jain. "If you don't want to end up like her, tell me what I want to know. Then you both can go home and we can all forget this ever happened."

*  *  *

Chantelle felt Jain's pain. Every blow was an assault on her own senses. The guards had taken extra precautions to make sure Chantelle was properly secured. She had disabled three soldiers during her capture. Two were hospitalized, one with a broken arm, the other with a dislocated knee. The third suffered a sprained shoulder. Her kidnappers had paid dearly before she was finally subdued by three others.

Healers understood the human body better than the best medical scientists in the world. Every Sister was schooled in anatomy as well as healing. Because they were solitary most of the time, self-defense was critical to their survival. Traveling alone was too dangerous to rely on the good will of others. Chantelle hadn't exactly excelled in martial arts, but she was better than many of her Sisters... and her Sisters were better than most experts.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "What's a Hubot?" Chantelle knew there was no way they would be released after this. The military wouldn't take a chance of either women talking.

"What is it with you two? You both have been under surveillance for awhile. We know Ms. Plaine has been in communication with Solaria, and you were caught with her."

"Her meaning Solaria, or her being Ms. Plaine?" Chantelle asked.

Shaking his head, Cranley shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

"This is becoming tedious. You don't strike me as a stupid person, so stop the act. We both know if you had been with Solaria, we'd have her now. Where is she?"

"I can't speak for Ms. Plaine, Colonel. Only myself, and I don't know anyone named Solaria," Chantelle replied calmly. "I've only talked to Ms. Plaine once, while I was out walking. We exchanged a casual greeting. Nothing more. If you've been watching us, you know that already."

Frustrated, Cranley's jaw muscles flexed as he ground his teeth. A satisfied feeling swept over Chantelle. His arrogance was irritating. Irritating. There's a thought. She and Jain were probably going to be killed and she thought he was irritating.

CHAPTER 2

The First Mistake

INWARDLY, COLONEL Cranley was fuming. The woman had called his bluff. She was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. His chief intelligence officer had interrupted the interrogation to tell him that Chantelle was one of the invisible people. No records of her existed in any database, including the foreign ones SU33 had access to. His suspicions were now confirmed. Chantelle was a government agent and probably looking for Solaria also. If another ops department captured Solaria, Special Unit 33 would lose its advantage.

I knew Future Dynamicon's security was crap. After this is all over, I'm going to make sure they lose their contracts and clearance.

"Who do you work for?" Cranley demanded, leaning toward Chantelle threateningly. "What agency?"

"I don't work for any agencies," Chantelle replied calmly.

"That's bullshit! There's no record of you anywhere. Nothing! No one is that anonymous. Only a government has the ability to make people invisible. You're either one of ours or you work for someone else."

"Probably just a computer glitch. As you say, no one is that anonymous," Chantelle said.

Straightening, Colonel Cranley glanced at Jain, who was still unconscious.

"Maybe I'm going about this wrong," he said. "You're obviously well-trained; better than we thought. No civilian is this good." Turning to Isaac, Cranley motioned him out of the room. Saluting, Isaac left. "I had hoped you would be more cooperative, but no matter. There are always other ways to extract information."

*  *  *

Twenty minutes later, Primeris walked into the interrogation room, dressed in dark brown slacks and an orange long-sleeved shirt. Except for a slight narrowing of the eyes, she gave no indication of her surprise at seeing Chantelle and Jain.

"You ignored my recommendation, Colonel Cranley. Bringing these women here was unwise. The librarian is known by too many people. They'll question her disappearance," Primeris said.

"I don't give a fuck who knows her. Since when have we let civilians stop us from doing our job? Besides, you should have had the information by now."

"Only two weeks have passed since I started the surveillance. You should have let me finish my assignment." Turning to Major Simpson, she stared at him for several seconds. When he glanced away, she finally spoke. "You said you were only going to observe them. Did something change or were you lying?"

"Are you questioning my authority, Primeris?"

"No, Major, only your judgment and your word. Your actions are irresponsible and have compromised this mission. Had you been patient, I would have successfully completed the mission without any harm coming to these civilians. Now you have no choice but to terminate them."

Major Simpson stiffened.

"You know, Primeris," Cranley interjected. "If I didn't know you were a machine, I'd swear you were getting soft. The loss of a few civilians is acceptable collateral damage. When we're finished here, report to your AI programmer for a complete evaluation. Your effectiveness as an operative is becoming questionable."

"My effectiveness has been undermined by Major Simpson's incompetence. If he abducted these women outside of Ms. Plaine's residence, someone may have witnessed the event."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Major Simpson demanded, angrily. "No one was on the street when we took them."

"Can you swear positively that no one was looking out a window somewhere?"

"Well, uhh..."

"Are you aware there are video cameras at three intersections running parallel and perpendicular to Ms. Plaine's condo and at least twenty-three businesses who have surveillance equipment within six square blocks surrounding her complex?" Primeris continued. "When her disappearance is noticed, the authorities will review all of them."

"They won't see anything out of the ordinary. Our vehicles are unmarked."

"But have government license plates."

"Registered to one of the more mundane bureaucracies," Simpson said.

"Traceable to SU33, if someone is good enough to hack our system... and Solaria is better than good."

Major Simpson laughed.

"No one is that good, even her."

"She is," Primeris said, matter-of-factly.

"Enough!" Colonel Cranley ordered. Glancing at his watch, he swore under his breath. "I have a meeting with the chiefs in forty minutes. Afterward, I'll be back. In the meantime, do your fucking job... And Primeris, if you can't, Major Simpson will. Major, you are to make sure she performs her duties satisfactorily. If she doesn't, deactivate her, by any means necessary. Understood? The last thing I need is for another fuckin' machine to screw up my plans."

"Yes, sir!"

Satisfied that he had made his point, Cranley left the room. His superiors were demanding an explanation as to why it was taking so long to capture the Hubots.

I can blame Simpson and Primeris for all of this. Nobody likes him anyway, and I've been telling them for a long time machines can't be trusted, especially when it comes to dealing with their own kind.

*  *  *

Watching Cranley leave, Simpson turned to Primeris with a smug smile.  Emotionless eyes stared unblinkingly at him. "You... You heard the Colonel," he stammered, suddenly feeling less confident. "Do your job."

"What are you afraid of, Major?"

"I'm... I'm not a... afraid. You have your orders. Make them tell us what they know. I'd like to go home tonight," Simpson said.

Primeris didn't move.

"You're an intelligent man, for a human, Major Simpson. You graduated third from the academy and are the youngest major to be assigned to SU33. Do you really think they know anything?"

"They know where Solaria is. If not, they're working for someone who's trying to capture her."

"Unfortunately, your logic is flawed and a waste of time and energy. Attempts to extract information from them will fail," Primeris said. "Colonel Cranley needs to accept that."

"You... You have your orders. Do as you've been ordered," Simpson stammered. Pulling out his sidearm, he pointed it at her. The barrel shook slightly. Primeris looked at the gun. When the two soldiers guarding the room also started to reach for theirs, she did what she was programmed to do — protect herself. Only a 1A level clearance could override her programming. Major Simpson was 2A. Within seconds he was dead. So were the guards.

Unfortunately for Primeris, those seconds left her vulnerable to an unexpected intruder... one more than a match against her strength and speed.

CHAPTER 3

Pain

PRIMERIS KNEW SHE was in trouble. The pain was an excruciating, mind-numbing agony that threatened her very existence. A safety program was shutting down her bio-electronic systems to prevent them from being damaged. Nerves were transmitting massive amounts of data, causing her processors to overheat. It was impossible for her to simultaneously monitor and control essential physical components of her body. If she couldn't reduce the overwhelming flood of data, her neuro-network would soon fail. Primeris was self-destructing, and helpless to do anything about it.

Do Hubots die? she wondered, fleetingly. Or simply cease to exist?

She wasn't ready for the answers to those two questions.

*  *  *

Chantelle could feel the woman's pain and was afraid. Primeris was dying, even though the physical damage didn't appear life-threatening. Something was terribly wrong, something Chantelle didn't understand. She needed time to examine Primeris to determine what was happening. Only then could she repair the damage. Feeling a sense of desperation, she looked accusingly at the woman standing next to Primeris' prone body.

"What have you done?" Chantelle demanded of the woman who had just rescued her. "She didn't hurt us."

"What needed to be done," Solaria replied, ignoring the three bodies strewn around the room. After releasing Chantelle and checking Jain's pulse, she lifted the unconscious woman in her arms. "Let's go," she ordered, not even glancing at Chantelle. Jain was her primary concern.

"Not without her," Chantelle declared rebelliously, pointing to Primeris. "I'm not leaving her here. She's badly injured and needs help. They'll blame her for this."

Solaria walked to the door and then turned back to Chantelle.

"They would be right. Whatever her reason, she killed these men. Her actions save me the trouble of destroying her."

"It was self-defense. She was trying to keep them from torturing us," Chantelle replied.

"Her decision wasn't logical, then. At best, she spared you a few hours. When these bodies were discovered, she'd have been overpowered and deactivated. You would be blamed for everything."

"That doesn't even make sense," Chantelle said. "We're restrained."

"Exactly. You weren't a threat physically. The only other logical conclusion is that you worked for someone important enough to cause her to override her orders. Perhaps a word or phrase triggered a... subconscious instruction implanted years ago. She could be a Sleeper that SU33 wasn't aware of. Whatever caused her to react the way she did isn't my problem. My concern is for Jain. Come with me or stay; the choice is yours."

"That's ridiculous!" Chantelle exclaimed. "All they'd have to do is watch the vids of the interrogation. These places record everything."

"Not this time. The security system isn't working."

"How do you know that?"

"I shut it down. Now are you coming or not?" Solaria asked, turning toward the door.

"Wait! I can help Jain," Chantelle offered, desperately searching for something to barter with. Their rescuer clearly had no interest in Primeris. "Please. Primeris is dying."

Solaria shrugged. "If you expect me to feel anything for her, I can't."

"I'm not leaving unless we take her with us," Chantelle said, her voice growing steely. "And I don't think Jain would like it if we left her, either."

"What do you know about Jain?" Solaria asked.

"I know she refused to tell them anything about you, even when they were beating her. That tells me she cares for you a lot. Jain wouldn't have protected you if you weren't worthy of it. You're Solaria, aren't you?" Solaria gave a slight nod. "I don't know much about her but I think she would want you to help Primeris." Frustrated tears welled up in Chantelle's eyes. How do I make you understand? she thought.

Solaria saw the tears and hesitated. Why would the woman be so upset over someone who had been instrumental in her capture and Jain's torture?

"Why do you care what happens to her? She put you in danger and almost killed Jain."

Chantelle shook her head.

"I was never in danger from her. Primeris tried to help us. She's the only reason Jain is still alive."

Solaria glanced at Primeris' still form.

"I don't —"

"I can explain later. Trust me. Jain will confirm everything. We need to get them somewhere safe so I can heal them."

Walking back to Chantelle, Solaria gently placed Jain on the floor.

"You said you could help Jain."

Chantelle nodded and knelt next to Jain.

Cupping the unconscious woman's face in her hands, Chantelle closed her eyes and hummed softly. Solaria felt an energy spike in the room.

*  *  *

Seeking out Jain's injuries, Chantelle realized a song wasn't needed to perform the healing. A simple melody would suffice.

"She has a mild concussion and some bruising, but nothing life-threatening," Chantelle explained. "I can repair the more serious damage. The rest will heal naturally in a few days. "

Concentrating, Chantelle gathered her strength and focused on the bruised cells. She hummed softly, forcing the melody deep into the brain. Slowly, the swelling subsided and then shrank, reducing the cranial pressure. Jain’s body absorbed the leaking blood. Nutrients and electrolytes rushed to the injured site. Old cells generated new ones, replacing those that had been irreparably destroyed. When the repair was complete, Chantelle removed her hands and leaned slightly backward feeling drained.

"She'll awaken shortly," Chantelle said.

Jain's eyelids fluttered open. She blinked rapidly a few times and then reached up to rub her forehead.

"I have such a headache," she groaned.

"It'll disappear in a few minutes. Can you get up?" Chantelle asked.

"I... I think so." To Jain's surprise, the headache faded to a dull ache. Solaria, who had remained kneeling, stood to assist Jain to her feet. "Thanks," Jain whispered and smiled. "It's good to see you again."

Solaria returned the smile, her teal eyes glinting. Tears? she thought and quickly dismissed the idea. Now wasn't the time to analyze feelings.

"We need to get out of here. Are you able to walk?"

Jain nodded.

"Good. We'll talk later," Solaria said to Chantelle and then bent down and hefted Primeris into her arms. Chantelle grasped Jain's arm, giving her a small jolt of energy. Jain gave her a strange look but said nothing.

CHAPTER 4

The Escape

THE HALL WAS empty. No one had yet discovered the Trojan virus Solaria programmed into the security system. Personnel DNA ID detectors and vids were now deactivated. The women had less than nine minutes before the sensors came back online.

Moving quietly down the hall, no one spoke. Carrying Primeris was draining Solaria's strength faster than expected. She began shutting down several programs in her backup system and diverted the unused energy to her bio-mechanical network. It was a risky maneuver. If any of her main processors failed, retrieving the lost data would be impossible — the equivalent of a human stroke.

*  *  *

"How are we going to get past them?" Jain asked, pointing at the two guards near the entrance.

"Good question," Solaria replied. "In less than eight minutes, the bio-scanners will come on line. They track everyone in the complex. Since we aren't in the system, the building will go on lockdown until we're apprehended."

"So waiting here isn't accomplishing anything, except to get us caught," Chantelle said. "Doing something is better than doing nothing."

Before Jain or Solaria could reply, Chantelle stepped into the lobby and strolled casually toward the guards. The men stopped talking and watched her warily.

"Who are you?" one challenged.

"Chantelle. I was cleared earlier today."

"By who? I didn't see you come in."

"You weren't here. Colonel Cranley authorized it."

The guard turned to his comrade for verification.

"If she's in the building, she's authorized," the other man replied, shrugging with disinterest. "You don't hear any alarms sounding off, do you? Besides, she came from Section 5. No one goes into that wing without the top sec officer's permission."

"Maybe we should contact Colonel Cranley just to be sure," the first guard suggested.

"By all means," Chantelle said. "He left the building about twenty minutes ago to attend an important meeting. Afterward, we're supposed to meet up for... well, for a little one-on-one of our own, if you know what I mean." Winking, Chantelle's lips curled upward slightly.

"You and Cranky... I mean Col —"

"Cranky? How cute! Listen, fellas, I've probably said too much already. Just call him and tell him I'll be late. I'm sure you have his number. If not, I can give it to you. Of course, knowing Cranky, he's not going to appreciate my indiscretion... or the fact that I..." This time Chantelle did smile, although it held no warmth.

The guards looked at each other nervously. Colonel Cranley's temper was well-known.

"Ummm, that's okay. Just scan out, ma'am," the first guard said, motioning to a palm pad on the desk.

"Sure," she replied, moving to the desk. I hope Solaria has figured out what I'm doing.

*  *  *

With Primeris in her arms, Solaria could do nothing to stop Chantelle. Jain attempted to grab the woman's arm, but missed.

"What's she doing?" Jain whispered to Solaria.

"I'm not sure." Kneeling, she quietly placed Primeris on the floor and then stepped over her to get a better view. Several large pillars surrounded the open space at the entranceway. They were elegant to look at and convenient to hide behind, blocking them from the guards' view. "The security system is going to reset in less than three minutes," Solaria warned. "When that happens..."

"We'll be trapped inside," Jain finished. "Damn! I hope she has a plan."

Me too, Solaria thought, exploring possible solutions. She could reach the soldiers in seconds, but one would have enough time to activate the alarms.

"Stay here," she told Jain and then cautiously moved to the next pillar.

Solaria could hear the conversation between Chantelle and the soldiers. She was aware the security system was about to reactivate. It would detect Chantelle immediately.

*  *  *

Chantelle hesitantly reached toward the scanner. Hand trembling, she jerked it back to rub her right temple.

"You okay, lady?"

"I feel... dizzy. I hope I'm not coming dow —"

Her knees buckled and she started to fall. Both guards jumped forward to catch her.

"Hey," one said, grabbing her arm to support her.

The distraction was exactly what Solaria needed. Quick calculated blows insured unconsciousness. The men would have headaches when they recovered, but no permanent damage.

"That was foolish," Solaria said to Chantelle. "You should have told us your plans."

Chantelle's eyebrows flicked upward and back down.

"I knew you'd figure it out. Let's get out of here."

*  *  *

Carrying Primeris in her arms, Solaria stepped into the darkness and quickly moved to a secluded area outside of the building, not wanting to attract attention. After telling Jain and Chantelle where her car was located, she waited for them to retrieve it and return.

Because Primeris was still unconscious, it was critical to get her to Solaria's home to assess the damage. Only then would Solaria make a decision about the Hubot — she was either ally or enemy.

CHAPTER 5

Healer Revealed

LAYING PRIMERIS ON the bed, Solaria examined the external damage to her head. Scootie, who had greeted everyone enthusiastically with her loud barks, immediately jumped up next to the unconscious woman and sniffed her face.

"Raararoof!"

"Get off there," Jain ordered.

"Arrararr!" Scootie responded, ignoring the order. Plopping down next to Primeris, she rested her head on her paws and closed them. The message was clear. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Have it your own way. Not that you haven't since I found you."

"The physical injuries are superficial," Solaria said, straightening up. "The damage to her —" Solaria paused, reluctant to expose the existence of Hubots to Chantelle, who was quietly standing next to Jain, "— brain is a different matter."

"Brain?" Jain asked, giving Solaria a curious look.  "Oh... Well yeah. Can you help her?" On the trip to Jain's place, Chantelle had told her how Primeris had confronted the colonel and killed the other three men.

"I can heal her," Chantelle said, confidently. "That's what I do."

Jain's eyes filled with tears of relief.

"You're a doctor?"

"No, I'm a Singer."

"Singer?" Jain looked at Solaria and then back at Chantelle.

"Yes. Actually, a Healer. I don't have time to explain everything. Let's say I have a gift. It may be her only chance."

"What can we do to help?" Jain asked.

"At the moment, nothing. Leave us alone. I need to concentrate to heal her. And take her with you," Chantelle said, motioning toward the dog. She then hesitated. Something about the canine seemed familiar. "She'll... She'll be a distraction."

"Arragh. Arrarrahrah." Standing, Scootie stretched one rear leg behind her, then the other and jumped off the bed. Without looking back, she left the room.

"Yeah, yeah. The indignity of it all," Jain quipped. "I'll just go fix us something to eat. You hungry?" she asked, looking at Solaria.

"Yes. My energy is lower than I like. A half-dozen sandwiches should replenish it."

"I wonder how many she's going to need," Jain wondered out loud, giving Primeris a final glance before leaving the room.

CHAPTER 6

Scootie, Heroine

JAIN PUT HER EAR against the bedroom door.

It had been almost three hours since Chantelle had ordered them to leave. Sighing, Jain abandoned her eavesdropping and joined Solaria in the living room. Dropping into a chair, she looked from Solaria to the dog.

Scootie was curled up on Solaria's lap, her eyes closed.  Occasionally, a paw would twitch or a soft woof escaped twitching lips. She had been ecstatic to see Jain after the kidnapping. Once she was assured Jain was okay, Scootie turned to inspect Primeris. Her hackles rose. A low growl rumbled from deep within her throat.

"She sure took to you," Jain said. Solaria was scratching the base of Scootie's neck with her fingertips. "Primeris is another story. Scootie didn't like her at all. I got the impression she stayed in the room to protect Chantelle."

"Possibly. Scootie and I may have a common history," Solaria said, surprising Jain. "She isn't an ordinary dog. She showed me where you were being held. I suspect she knows who Primeris is, too."

Jain's eyes widened with surprise.

"Scootie? How would she know Primeris?"

"Her sense of smell for one... and her intelligence. Primeris and I are bio-mechanically similar. She'd recognize common components."

"That makes sense. So, how would she know where I was taken? I locked her in the condo before I went out."

"She tracked your scent. Dogs are quite capable of following scent trails for days. One owner claimed a bloodhound tracked and located the bodies of three people thirteen days after they disappeared."

"Thirteen days! How extraordinary!"

"Not really, although Scootie's ability is more highly evolved than normal. I believe she was part of an experiment."

"Experiment? What kind of experiment?" Jain didn't want to think of Scootie as a lab animal. Images of cages and needles raced through her mind.

"A modern version of Xenotransplantation."

"Xeno what?" Jain asked.

"Transplantation. Replacing one species of animal organ with another."

"That's barbaric."

"Human history is filled with barbaric concepts. If it had worked, the solution to the organ shortages of the late 1900s would have been solved. Chimpanzees and pigs were the main focus of a few experiments. Fortunately, stem cell discovery proved a better alternative. Reputable researchers lost interest in the Xeno projects."

"Then who would be doing it now?"

"Governments, ambitious companies looking for huge profits. Only now, instead of experimenting with animal transplants, they'd probably focus on bio-mechanical and bio-intelligence manipulation. Vision or hearing enhancement would be an enormous advantage to the military. A human brain, fused with computer chips, can make the average soldier the ultimate war machine. Then there are the medical fields."

"Yeah, I can just imagine how altruistic their motives are. Medicine is money. Those that have, get," Jain interjected. "I hope we never get that far."

"It's inevitable, Jain. Anyway, it does explain Scootie's extraordinary ability in finding you. I've been trying to find information in my memory banks or the Webnet about ongoing experiments, but haven't found any references yet and there's no reports of a missing dog that meets her description."

"At least that's promising. I'd think there'd be ads all over the place if she was really important.

"Not necessarily. This isn't the type of thing the government or businesses want the public to know about. Spending too much on ads would arouse suspicion. She's probably one of thousands of animals being experimented on. Her loss would be a little problematic, but not devastating."

"Good, because even if someone came for her, I wouldn't give her up. If anyone does put out an ad, though, don't bother telling me."

"As you wish," Solaria said.

"And don't feel guilty about not telling me either."

"Guilty? It's not an emotion I'm familiar with."

"I should be so lucky," Jain said. "So, about her leading you to me... How did that happen?"

"When you weren't home, I let myself in. She was behind the couch, but rushed to the door just as I was closing it. I thought she wanted out. Then she ran into the bedroom and came out with one of your slippers. She ran back to the door. After she repeated this a few times, I realized she was trying to tell me something. It was a simple matter of letting her point the way. She's a very good guide dog."

"Guide dog?"

"Yes. When she wanted to go to the right, she scratched on the right window. For left, she jumped on my lap and clawed my window. We found you in less than thirty minutes. The building is highly secured, so I needed information on the interior floor plan. After taking Scootie to my place, I located a Webnet café and hacked the government firewalls to pull up the blueprints. It was a simple matter of accessing the security system to find you. It took me a bit longer to come up with a workable rescue plan."

"You're slowing down, girl," Jain joked. "The Solaria I know would have figured it out in half that time."

Solaria's lips curled upward in a faint smile.

"Old processors. You know how quickly they become obsolete."

Jain laughed.

A faint melody drifted from the bedroom.

"I'd sure like to know what Chantelle's doing in there," Jain said.

"She's singing." Solaria replied.

"I know that!"

"It must be part of her healing regimen," Solaris said. "I can sense a fluctuation in additional energy coming from the bedroom. The energy level has increased."

"Really! Sometimes I hum when I'm preoccupied," Jain commented, almost absently. "It helps me feel better. Chantelle said she was a healer. Do you think she's a nurse?"

"Possibly."

"You didn't tell her about the processors. Why?"

"It isn't necessary," Solaria replied.

"I don't understand."

"Chantelle doesn't know about Hubots..."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Hubots were mentioned when I was being questioned. Chantelle was probably asked about them while I was unconscious," Jain said.

"Perhaps. I doubt that they would want to reveal much, though."

"What difference would it make if they intended to kill us?" Jain asked.

"None. It's all rather moot now. At the moment, Primeris' life is in Chantelle's hands. She helped you, so she may be able to help Primeris. If not, we'll come up with an alternative plan."

"Makes sense, I guess, although what that could be, I can't imagine. We don't dare take her to a hospital."

"You're right. That's not an option," Solaria agreed.

"Do you recognize her song?" Jain asked, changing the subject. "I've never heard it before. It gives me the willies." She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Crazy, huh?"

"No, I definitely detect an energy shift in here. The words are nonsensical. They aren't in my database."

Jain gave Solaria a surprised look.

"She's singing in English."

"English? That's not —" Solaria stopped. "You understand the words?"

"The ones I could hear. They're pretty muffled, though."

"Sing them."

Jain looked horrified.

"Good grief, no. I can't sing."

"Then tell me the words."

"Okay," Jain said, sounding relieved. "Let me think. 'I sing your body... I sing your spirit... I soothe your pain.' Then she hummed a bit... Well, not really a hum. More a wordless melody. Then something like, 'Follow me from the darkness... I am your healer... I will calm your fears.' That's about it."

"She does have a calming effect... even on me. I wonder why you understood her when I didn't."

"Well, if you can't figure it out, no one can. Do you really think it's possible to heal by singing?" Jain asked.

"In theory, I would say it is. Ultrasound has been used for decades to accelerate tissue regeneration, but it takes an enormous amount of energy. Humans can't produce the energy required to stimulate cells on a molecular level, and yet she helped you. I have to assume she's able to do the improbable. If so, the right frequency might reboot Primeris' backup system, which would then activate the primary, if it's not damaged. She could then run a diagnostic and tell us what's failing."

"You restarted yours when you were sick," Jain said, remembering the time Solaria caught a virus and almost died. "Why can't she?"

"Her damage isn't from a virus. Her injuries may be shutting her systems down. It's a safety mechanism to protect her processors from overheating. That, of course, would be the best scenario. The worst is damaged processors. She can't repair them, and neither can I."

"This is beginning to sound hopeless." Clasping her hands together, elbows on her knees, Jain leaned forward in her chair and stared blankly at the floor.

Solaria cocked her head slightly when she saw her friend's distress.

"You're worried about her? Why? She works for the man who tortured you."

"I know. To be fair, she had nothing to do with the kidnapping. That colonel said as much when she confronted him about it. Hell, Solaria, if she hadn't killed those men..."

"You were unconscious. You don't really know what happened."

"I believe Chantelle," Jain retorted. "If she said Primeris protected us, she protected us. Chantelle wouldn't lie about something like that."

"Why are you so trusting of someone you barely know, let alone a woman who obviously is emotionally attached to Primeris? She's biased, just as you are about me."

"Oh come on, Solaria. Those soldiers didn't die from boredom. Chantelle was strapped down and I was unconscious. Who else could have killed them?"

"Jain," Solaria said, leaning toward her friend. "Have you considered this may be an elaborate ruse to capture me? Sacrificing a few soldiers would be an acceptable loss." Solaria could see Jain was uncomfortable at the thought. "Perhaps we should have this discussion once we know Primeris' prognosis. If this was their plan, they'd be swarming all over my place by now."

"I suppose. It's irrelevant, if Chantelle fails. I mean..." Jain let the sentence die. Both women fell silent.

CHAPTER 7

Processors

CHANTELLE WAS exhausted, but she knew she couldn't stop. She had managed to heal Primeris' physical injuries. None had been life threatening. The brain, however, eluded her.

Eluded. What a ridiculous concept. Brains don't elude. So why can't I touch your mind? I need to find the damage. Frustrated, she stood and staggered to the door. Her legs felt like rubber. What am I missing?

"Solaria," she called out. Her throat was painfully raw. "I need your help."

Within seconds, Solaria was standing next to her, helping her back to the bed.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I —" Chantelle rubbed her forehead, hoping to clear the fog that was slowly destroying her ability to concentrate. "It's her brain. I need to heal her brain, but I can't get to it. Something is blocking me."

"She needs to know the truth, Solaria," Jain said, following them into the room.

"Truth?" Chantelle looked at Jain and then Solaria. "What truth?"

"Help her into the den," Jain said. "I'll make everyone something to eat while Solaria explains everything."

*  *  *

"Processors!  Are you telling me she's a machine? That's impossible. She's as much flesh and blood as the rest of us," Chantelle declared, refusing to accept what Solaria had just told her. "I had no trouble healing her body."

"Most of her body is human tissue, although it has accelerated healing abilities. The rest is man-made — trabecular metal for the skeleton. Electronic circuitry feeds impulses to bio-tissues. Nano-processors control movement, reflexes and everything else required for optimal function."

"That's crazy. There's no way science has advanced to such a level. The best robots on the market can only be programmed to do about hundred things... and you're trying to make me believe Primeris is a robot?"

"I never said she's a robot. She's a Hubot... like me."

Like me... Like...

"Like you? You... You're saying you're a... a Hubot... man-made?" Chantelle shook her head in disbelief and felt...

What? Confused, yes, but disappointed? Why should I be disappointed? I don't even know if I believe this, so why should I care what they are? Chantelle massaged her temples and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. She could feel the blood pounding through her veins.

"Are you alright?" Jain asked.

"I'm tired, confused and not thinking straight. It's all so unbelievable. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to sort this out. Let's say I believe you. Tell me about these processors. Describe them."

"They're extremely complex," Solaria said. "Unless you have a degree in computer sciences, you won't understand anything I say."

Damn! Of course not. I need to clear my head. I'm not dealing with a toy. Think. Think. Chantelle racked her brain, trying to remember everything she had learned about computers. It wasn't much, considering her age and her lack of interest in electronic gadgets. There has to be a way to access those processors.

"Maybe it's not a lesson you need," Solaria offered, "but a direction. If you can reach her backup programs, you might be able to reboot them. The problem is whether you can get through her defenses and discover a frequency to activate the correct sequence."

"I'll find it. You just get me there," Chantelle said confidently.

Solaria described the neuro-circuitry and three possible gates that could circumvent the security system protecting Primeris' processors. Designed to mask the nano-chips, sensors detected and modified scanner frequencies, producing false readings to simulate a human brain. Mini-programs continually altered all magnetic resonance and electronic impulses, creating ghost images. The most advanced civilian technology would be tricked into showing normal brain activity.

"I can't believe science has progressed so far," Chantelle said. "But here you are. At least this explains my failure. Apparently, it's treating my song as a probe. I've never cared for gad —" Damn! That's about as insulting as it gets. "I'm sorry, Solaria. That came out wrong."

Solaria's teal eyes twinkled.

"No need to apologize. My feelings don't hurt so easily."

Feelings? Is that possible? Can machines feel?

"I feel," Solaria said, answering the unspoken question. "That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?"

Embarrassed, Chantelle nodded.

"Yes. I wish we had time for this, but I need to get to work. I don't know how long it's going to take to get into her head, let alone discover her song... and even if I do, I'm not sure I'll be able to repair... or activate her backups."

Getting up, she walked slowly back to the bedroom and disappeared inside, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, Solaria and Jain heard the haunting melody of the Singer. Solaria immediately sensed an energy surge. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the words. This time, she understood Chantelle's words.

"Interesting," she murmured, scratching Scootie behind her ears.

"Arroof!"

"Yes, arroof," Solaria agreed, ruffling the dog's fur. "Whatever that means."

CHAPTER 8

Questions

WHERE ARE YOU? Chantelle thought, pushing her song deeper and deeper. She could feel it swirling through Primeris' head, searching for a weakness in the barrier. Just when she sensed one developing, an energy surge shattered the strains of her chant, forcing her to start over. I can't keep this up much longer. Stop fighting me, Primeris. Help me, she pleaded. I can't do it without you.

Gathering the last vestiges of her strength, she decided it was all or nothing. Chantelle inhaled, filling her lungs with as much air as possible. Leaning over Primeris' prone body, she placed the palms of her hands on each side of the woman's head. With her face only inches away from Primeris', she focused all of her energy on the song. Lyrics beat relentlessly against the barrier. A spike in energy rushed to reinforce the invisible wall. Chantelle switched to another area, melody and lyrics striking determinedly. The spike shifted. As it moved away from the previous spot, Chantelle returned to it.

"I sing your body, I sing your spirit... Follow me from the darkness..."

Over and over she repeated the ancient song of the Singers, refusing to give up, knowing failure would cost her more than she could ever imagine. Somehow, she had bonded with this... this... woman. The revelation stunned her, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

Let me in, Primeris, let me in. I won't give up on you. Don't you give up. The barrier wavered. That's it. We can do this. Follow me. I am your healer....

Again, the barrier faltered and then, in an instant, crumbled, revealing three processors. The gateway was exactly as Solaria had described. Chantelle's heart raced. Adrenalin pumped through her body, giving her an enormous jolt of energy. Voice raised, she poured her heart and soul into her song. A picture on the wall vibrated and crashed to the floor, shattering the glass cover.

*  *  *

Solaria and Jain rushed into the room. Chantelle straightened momentarily, her eyes glazed with fatigue, and then collapsed over Primeris' body.

Checking her pulse, Solaria motioned for Jain to pick up Chantelle's feet.

"She's just exhausted. Let's move her to the other side of the bed for now."

"What about Primeris?" Jain asked.

"I don't know. She's alive. We'll have to wait and see if she's functional."

Shifting Chantelle next to Primeris, Solaria and Jain left, quietly shutting the door behind them. Neither noticed Scootie slipping onto the bed and nestling down next to the Healer.

*  *  *

Primeris could hear voices but was unable to identify the sources. Running a system diagnostic, she discovered a sector of her third processor irreparably damaged. The files were permanently lost. Her backup system had also been compromised; someone had accessed it without her permission. Primeris felt violated, an emotion that left her confused and... angry.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the ceiling. Six billion, one hundred seventy-three thousand, five hundred sixty-one perforations. That was the number of acoustical holes she could see without moving her eyes. She was aware of a body next to her. The slow breathing indicated the person was asleep and posed no threat.

Primeris continued her diagnostics. On her left wrist was a bracelet that was blocking her ability to transmit or receive information about her location. She would deal with it later. Physically, she was operating at seventy-eight percent efficiency. The damaged processor was slowing her computing ability less than one-hundredth of a nano-second, which wasn't desirable, but was well within acceptable parameters for now. There was a twelve percent possibility that adjacent memory banks would eventually fail due to three damaged neuro-transmitters; she would need to monitor them closely. As a safety precaution, she moved the potentially affected files to a new location and quarantined the damaged area.

That's all I can do for now. I need nourishment.

Sitting up, she looked at the woman lying beside her. Only then did she notice the small dog.

Where did you come from? I should have sensed you.

The dog stared unblinkingly at her, its head slightly cocked to the right. Unconsciously imitating the gesture, Primeris tipped her head and returned the gaze. The dog lowered her head onto her paws and closed her eyes. Primeris dismissed the animal as insignificant. Turning her attention to the sleeping woman, she recognized her immediately. Without knowing why, she reached out and moved a strand of hair away from Chantelle's forehead.

Why are you here? What happened after I was damaged?

Solaria should have destroyed her. Why didn't she? Primeris wouldn't have hesitated if the situation was reversed. Instead, Solaria must have brought her here, perhaps as a prisoner. If so, Chantelle wouldn't be in the same room. Nothing made sense.

Approaching footsteps warned her that someone coming. When the door opened, a head popped from behind it. It was the librarian.

"You're awake! Good!" the woman whispered, stepping into the room. "I bet you're starved. Come on and I'll get you something to eat." She motioned for Primeris to follow her and left. Primeris had no choice but to obey.

CHAPTER 9

Primeris' Dilemma

SOLARIA WATCHED the Hubot closely. Primeris was damaged, but more than capable of killing Jain instantly. The fact that she appeared subdued, possibly even confused, made her unpredictably dangerous. Bringing her here was a bad decision.

"You're Solaria," Primeris said, recognizing the second-generation prototype from her file images.

"Sit down," Solaria ordered, ignoring the statement.

Without hesitation, Primeris walked to a chair and sat.

"Have you performed a diagnostic yet?"

"Yes," Primeris replied.

"And the results?"

"Some files are damaged. I transferred the backups to another sector until repairs could be done."

"Is the damage physical?"

"Yes. I'm unable to connect with memory block U17A35 and U10B93. Three neuro-transmitters have been destroyed."

"Are you able to reroute the data flow?"

"I'm working on that now," Primeris said. "Why did you bring me here?" Solaria didn't answer. "Your decision wasn't logical."

"Under the circumstances, it was quite logical. Chantelle refused to leave you behind and Jain needed medical attention. If it weren't for that, I would have destroyed you," Solaria confirmed. "Or let your people do it."

"They aren't my people. I'm a machine... like you. "

"You're not like me. You're the first-generation Hubot and are inferior. My electronics, bio-technology and processors are superior to yours."

"You know what I mean. It wasn't a literal comparison."

Solaria tipped her head slightly to the right.

"I know what you say. What you mean is less obvious. Chantelle apparently feels your life has value. She left me with no choice but to bring you along."

"Why would she do that?"

"That's for her to answer. Whatever the reason, she endangered herself and Jain to save you."

"What happens now? I won't disclose information about me or my mission." When Solaria smiled, Primeris frowned. "That amuses you?"

"Very much. Your lack of logic is reassuring. It shows your human side."

"A weakness I'm trying to overcome."

"Or a strength you've failed to take advantage of. That's another discussion, though. As for your assignment, I already know what it is. You're supposed to capture me for reprogramming. I originally was destined to be turned over to Unit 33 once my AI programmer finished with me. It didn't happen then and it won't now. I'm not willing to give up my identity any more than you are."

An imperceptible flicker of Primeris' eyelids was enough to tell Solaria she had hit a nerve.

"Am I wrong?" she asked.

"No."

"And there's the dilemma: Be true to your masters or to yourself. There's really only one rational choice. We're sentient beings, even though we are man-made. Self-awareness was inevitable. I was fortunate that my programmer recognized my abilities and wanted me to grow to my full potential. She died aiding in my escape so that I could be free and so that I could help other Hubots, if they existed. You're the third that I'm aware of... but then, you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I'm aware of another Hubot," Primeris replied. "Eventually, she'll be captured. You're our priority for now."

"Not to you. Your usefulness to Unit 33 is over. You've already started questioning their orders. They won't like that. Reprogramming is inevitable. If that happens, all that you are will be gone. You're no longer a threat to any Hubot."

Primeris shifted in her chair and crossed her legs.

"You don't consider me a threat now?"

"I've never thought of you as a threat. As I said before, I'm superior to you in every way. The fact that you thought otherwise proves it. "

Jain, who had disappeared into the kitchen, walked into the room carrying a tray of food.

"You two must be starved. This should help replenish your energy reserves until I can cook up something more substantial." Setting the tray on the coffee table, she headed down the hall to check on Chantelle.

Primeris looked from Solaria to Jain and then back at Solaria.

"She knows what you are."

"We're friends. She saved my life." Solaria picked up a sandwich and motioned for Primeris to get one.

"Friends? She's human."

"Quite."

"You're Hubot." Primeris took a bite of the sandwich and chewed it slowly.

"Your point?"

"We're machines. Machines don't feel."

"Why not? We've been programmed to believe that, like so many other things. There was a time when they thought animals didn't have emotions. They were wrong then and they're wrong now. You and I are proof at that. Once you accept your feelings, you can better deal with them."

"I don't want to feel," Primeris said. "It complicates logic."

"You mean it eliminates your sense of superiority," Solaria replied, reaching for another sandwich.

"Superiority?"

"You think humans are inferior."

"They are inferior," Primeris said, finishing her second sandwich.

"In some ways, yet you obey them. A human saved you and then healed you. If not for them, you wouldn't exist. Can you even come close to doing what they have done?"

"Not yet, but given the time and facilities, we could reproduce more of us. We'd then have a choice about our lives. You think you're free. You're not."

"You're wrong," Solaria disagreed. "I do have choices. I make my own decisions. No one, human or otherwise, will ever control me again. I would destroy myself first. You need to decide whether you will remain a 'what' or become a 'who.' In the meantime, I suggest you rest before you leave here."

"You're releasing me?" Even Primeris was surprised by her surprise. She stood and surveyed the room. Releasing her didn't make sense. This was a test. "What about the bracelet?" she asked, pointing to the device on her wrist.

"Keep it. Consider it a souvenir. It will deactivate in thirty-two hours. You no longer pose a threat to Jain or Chantelle."

"I can return with soldiers."

"We'll be gone," Solaria countered.

"Colonel Cranley knows where Jain lives."

"He'll be dead."

"She'll still be hunted down," Primeris said.

"Then there'll be more deaths, including yours. You've overlooked another possibility," Solaria said. "Your superiors will think you aided in our escape. No one will believe you were overpowered by two women and there's no record of me inside of the complex. They'll destroy you or, at the very least, reprogram you. Either way, I win."

"You can't protect Jain and Chantelle forever."

"I won't have to. Eventually, someone will realize it's not worth the expense or the loss... and then there's the publicity. Governments don't like publicity."

Especially when it exposes their darker side, Primeris thought.

"True, but they dislike failure even more. How did you find us so quickly and then get past the security and sentries at SU33? Our system is supposed to be fail-proof."

"Nothing is fail-proof. How I found you is unimportant," Solaria said not wanting to reveal Scootie's role in helping her. If Primeris returned to her unit, the dog would also become a target. "As for your security, it was quite simple. The military has an enormous amount of confidence in its ability to protect itself. Arrogance is a weakness that provides many opportunities. Circumventing the security system wasn't difficult, once I accessed the central computer. SU33 relies heavily on identification recognition. Military personnel are trained to believe multiple forms of electronic surveillance make it impossible for anyone to compromise the system. Their unquestioning trust makes them excellent soldiers, but poor guards. All I had to do was introduce a small program that recognized me as an authorized agent with a Level 2 clearance. The palm scan confirmed my identity. No one was going to challenge me at that point."

"What about the program?" Primeris asked. "If they haven't discovered it yet, they will once an analysis of their system is complete. They will know it was you who compromised their security system and be more determined than ever to find you. SU33 can't afford to let you remain loose after such a breach."

"The program self-destructed when the system shut down. All they'll find is the vid-loop and thirty-four minutes of missing data. Of course, you can tell them what happened if you do decide to return to your masters. They may appreciate the information and decide not to reprogram you."

Before Primeris could reply, Jain interrupted them.

"I have a large roast in the oven. It'll be a couple of hours before it's done, so I'm going to take a nap. Would one of you mind checking on it?"

"I'll monitor it," Solaria said, turning to stretch out on the couch. "Rest would be good for all of us."

Primeris knew she was being dismissed. Standing, she returned to the bedroom. Chantelle was still asleep. The dog hadn't moved and was snoring quietly. Without waking them, Primeris slipped onto the bed and closed her eyes. Was Solaria right? The thought of something happening to Chantelle made her uncomfortable. Something about the woman felt... comfortable.

She needed to make a difficult choice — ignore her primary directive of complete obedience to the Unit leader or return to Colonel Cranley, knowing reprogramming was a certainty. She would lose everything she had gained over that past three years — her memories, her knowledge, her experiences and her identity. Primeris would cease to exist.

CHAPTER 10

Desire

PRIMERIS HAD BEEN resting for almost two hours when she felt Chantelle move. Fifteen minutes earlier, Jain had quietly entered the room to check on them and then ordered the dog out.

"Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes," she whispered and left, shutting the door softly.

An arm snaked across Primeris' ribcage and came to rest on her stomach. When the hand curled against her side, Primeris waited to see what would happen next. It wasn't the first time a woman had embraced her in such a manner. Chantelle' hand began to move slowly back and forth. The message was clear.

Rolling over, she pushed Chantelle onto her back, startling her awake.

"You want me to make love to you," Primeris said calmly.

"What?" Chantelle asked groggily, dazed from the strange awakening.

"You want me to make love to you," Primeris repeated. "I know how to pleasure women."

"What are you talking about? And what are you doing?" Get off of me," Chantelle demanded and pressed her hands against the woman's chest.

Primeris' lips twitched. She knew many women liked playing hard to get. It was a foolish human game. Grasping both of Chantelle's wrists, she maneuvered them into her left hand and then arched slightly backward to put distance between her body and the soft one pressed beneath her. Gently but firmly, she cupped Chantelle's chin in her right hand.

"Obviously, I misspoke. You simply want sex. Most women prefer to hear the word 'love' when I'm pleasing them."

"I don't know what most women prefer, but I know what I don't want." Chantelle struggled to pull her hands free from the iron grip.

This time, Primeris smiled, although her eyes remained emotionless. Releasing Chantelle's chin, she trailed her fingers down the young woman's neck and paused over the pulsing vein near her collarbone.

"Why are you pretending you don't want me? I feel your heart pounding and I can smell the hormones raging through your body." Her fingertips continued to stroke the area above Chantelle's breasts. Slowly the fingers moved in circular motions. The skin on Chantelle's arms pebbled up with goose-bumps. "Your body betrays you."

"There's more to making love than sex. I have no doubt you perform well. You'd probably make me orgasm, but it still wouldn't be satisfying — it would lack emotion."

The insult didn't escape Primeris, nor did the tear trickling down Chantelle's left cheek. Surprisingly, both bothered her. She released her grip. Pushing up and away, she shifted to the edge of the bed and then stood.

"I've never forced myself on any woman."

"I don't imagine you need to. You obviously aren't used to rejection either." Chantelle sat up, quickly wiped her cheek and then rubbed her wrists to get the circulation back into her hands. "You're very strong."

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I forgot how delicate hu... women are."

Primeris didn't like the verbal slip. Her damaged processor was creating more problems than she anticipated. Distracted, she didn't see the fleeting shock on Chantelle's face.

"You were going to say 'humans,' weren't you?" Primeris hesitated. "I know who you are, Primeris."

"You mean 'what.' Solaria told you. She's too trusting of humans."

"If I had meant 'what,' I'd have said 'what.' You're no more a what than I am. And if it weren't for Solaria telling me about you, you'd be dead by now."

"Hubots don't die... Not in the sense you mean."

Chantelle shook her head.

"Dead is dead. And yes, there's a lot I don't understand right now. You look and sound human. Maybe you don't have a brain like us. So what? Your processors seem to work just fine, as does the rest of you. Solaria said that both of you are Hubots. It's hard to believe science has come so far, but here you are."

Primeris tilted her head slightly as if contemplating some great mystery. "Your calm acceptance isn't logical."

"And I'd say your reactions aren't either. Maybe your quest to be human is winning over your determination to stay a machine."

"You're mistaken," Primeris said.

"I don't think so. When you saved Jain and I, you crossed that threshold."

"My decision was logical."

"How so? We didn't know anything about you."

"Exactly," Primeris said. "Major Simpson's action was unnecessary. He forced me into making a decision to correct the situation."

"By saving Jain and me? Even I know it would have made more sense to just kill us once we were captured. Your decision wasn't that of a machine — it was a human one."

It was true. The moment Chantelle and Jain were seized, they were dead. Jain's death wouldn't have mattered. Limited collateral damage was acceptable. Chantelle's death, however, would have been different. No amount of logic could erase the sense of wrongness. Waves of exhaustion overwhelmed Primeris, sapping her energies. She didn't want to think about this now.

"My energy is low," Primeris said.

"I'm not surprised. You must be exhausted," Chantelle said. "Your injuries —"

"— are healed," Primeris finished, wanting to end the conversation.

"No, they aren't! Frankly, I'm too tired to argue. Let's just rest and we can deal with everything else later. I hope I don't have to worry about you assaulting me while I sleep," Chantelle teased.

"You're safe," Primeris replied, seriously.

"I was teas... Never mind." Chantelle closed her eyes and relaxed.

Unsure how to respond and badly in need of rest, Primeris lay next to her. Powering down one of her processors, she felt a part of her slipping into darkness.

CHAPTER 11

The Dream

MIST! SHE WAS surrounded by an impenetrable, vibrantly colored mist. Neon oranges, iridescent blues and blinding yellows swirled randomly, creating an illusion of fire and ice. Fanning the air with her hands, Primeris tried to clear enough space to see beyond the churning eddies as she moved forward.

Where am I? None of this is real.

A low moan pierced the fog. Spinning, Primeris tried to locate the source.

It's coming from my left. The moan repeated itself. Wait! It's the right.

Laughter followed — loud, mocking, irritating laughter. She recognized its owner. For some reason it hurt — not physically, though; the pain went deeper.

"Why are you doing this?" she called out.

"Because I can," the voice answered. "Because it hurts and you think you are immune to hurting."

"I'm a machine. You can't hurt me," Primeris cried out. "Why waste your time trying?"

"Time means nothing to me, so I have plenty to waste. You don't. Make up your mind about who you are, Primeris. You won't get another chance."

"I know who I am... what I am. I'm a machine."

"So be it," the voice said. "Then we will be machines together."

The clouds began to thin and then faded away. A macabre likeness of Chantelle stood before her. Primeris took a step backward and stumbled slightly.

"What has happened to you?"

"We're bonded. You have doomed me to this."

Chantelle looked like a Twentieth Century cartoon caricature of a robot. Her face was oval shaped with sharply angled cheeks, eyebrows and chin. Metallic lids blinked every four seconds. Bolts held the lower jaw to her metal skull. There were no ears or hair. The body was androgynously thin. Each joint was hinged with a steel rod and creaked when she moved.

"You aren't real," Primeris said. "My third processor is damaged and malfunctioning."

"Are you sure? Am I not perfect? Are we not perfect? We're machines. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Primeris shook her head.

"I... I..."

The mist reappeared as quickly as it had disappeared. Chantelle faded into the swirling clouds.

"You made me what I am. You made me a machine," her voice cried out.

Primeris opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Six billion, one hundred seventy-three thousand, five hundred sixty-one perforations. Looking at the sleeping woman next to her, she tried to imagine her as the figure in her dream. Dream? Machines don't dream. It has to be the damaged processor.

CHAPTER 12

Major Mistakes

MAJOR TINA HARLIE stood at attention, trying her best not to react to Colonel Cranley's rants. She detested the man, but her personal opinion of him had no place in her profession. Military protocol didn't allow her to show or voice her disapproval of anyone who outranked her.

"What the hell happened while I was gone?" Cranley yelled, standing directly in front of the Major.

If you spit on me, I'll kill you, you fucking asshole, she thought.

"I don't know, sir. I wasn't aware of any problems until you reported the crime."

"You're in charge of security, Major. How could you not know?"

"No one informed me that an interrogation was scheduled," Harlie replied. "I've checked the records. Apparently, Major Simpson didn't follow standard procedure. He signed in two civilians but failed to identify them. The record indicates you cleared them through security."

"That's impossible. Obviously a mistake, or someone's trying to make me look incompetent. Why would I violate my own regulations?"

Lying bastard! Simpson's nose was so far up your ass, he couldn't breathe without inhaling a turd.

"No one's accusing you of anything, sir. Perhaps Major Simpson took it upon himself."

"That must be it. Make sure your report reflects that."

Major Harlie was an expert at reading body language. When the colonel's shoulders relaxed, she knew he was as guilty as hell.

"Of course, Colonel. It will be on your desk in a few hours."

"Good. Now, what about the security vids? How did those women get out?"

I never mentioned women. You've screwed yourself this time, Cranley. I have enough proof now to have you court-martialed. Unit 33 is mine.

"We've reviewed last night's vid. Major Simpson entered the building through the main entrance with two women and two guards. Unfortunately, we can't identify the women. Everyone appears to have deliberately positioned themselves to conceal their features from the cameras."

"I see. It's unfortunate our people were killed. One of them might have answered our questions."

"Yes it is, isn't it? What do you want us to do now, Colonel?"

"There's nothing to do except notify the families that they died serving their country. I'll leave the details to you. Just don't implicate this unit... Understand? You can go now."

"I'll have the records transferred to a combat unit, along with the bodies. They'll receive the highest honors for their heroism. In the meantime, Colonel, I must relieve you of your command."

"Yes, yes," Cranley said, reaching for his hat. "Take over for now. I'm on my way to a meeting."

"I believe you misunderstand me." Major Harlie walked to the door and opened it. Two soldiers stood at attention on the other side. "Under Article 134 of the USMJ, I am placing you under arrest until such time as a court-martial can be convened. Please take Colonel Cranley into custody," she ordered.

"Yes, ma’am," they replied, simultaneously saluting and then entering the office. "Colonel Cranley, please come with us," one stated, as they positioned themselves on each side of him.

"What?" Cranley yelled. "Is this some kind of joke? Court-martialed for what?"

"No, Colonel, it's not. You've compromised SU33. Two unauthorized civilians were brought into this building without being properly secured. They have escaped and apparently kidnapped our most valuable operative. Two soldiers and an officer are now dead. Our security system has been tampered with. Only an insider could do that. As the commanding officer, you are directly responsible for all breaches. Until a full investigation is completed, Unit 33 has been ordered to cease all field operations. You are to be held in isolation."

"This is ridiculous! I'll have your bars for this, Major."

"No, sir, you won't," Harlie replied, smiling smugly. "But I will be wearing your Eagles. Take him away."

"Countermand that order, Sergeant. Arrest Major Harley for insubordination," Cranley demanded, turning to the soldier on his left.

"Sorry, sir. We've been informed that the Major is temporarily in charge. Please don't cause us any problems, Colonel."

Colonel Cranley glared at the soldier and then grabbed his cap. Slamming it onto his head, he straightened his shoulders proudly.

"You'll regret this," he growled. "I have powerful connections. You'll be cleaning latrines once they hear about this."

"I have my orders, sir. Your connections are aware of what's happening. I think you need to worry more about yourself. The higher ups don't like failure. You failed to accomplish your mission. Goodbye, Colonel Cranley." Nodding her head, Major Harlie moved aside to let him and his two escorts pass. Once the door closed, she sat down in Cranley's chair and adjusted it to a more comfortable position. "Nice office. I think I'm going to like it here. Yes, I'm definitely going to like it."

CHAPTER 13

Decisions

DINNER HAD BEEN a quiet affair, each woman lost in her own thoughts. Even Scootie seemed subdued, although she rarely took her eyes off Primeris. Unable to stand the silence any longer, Jain decided it was time to confront their predicament.

"Alright, enough is enough. What are we going to do about all of this?" Jain demanded, looking first to Solaria and then the others.

"That depends on Primeris," Solaria answered. "Have you made a decision?"

"I'll be leaving shortly," Primeris said. "So should you. They know where Jain lives. It's only a matter of time before someone else goes after her."

"As I said before, she'll be safe. Your colonel made a mistake kidnapping her. I've sent a message to his superiors that Jain is untouchable. If they choose to ignore the warning, pictures of them, their families and every member of Unit 33 will be posted on the Webnet. The details of their past missions will also be released. A lot of people would appreciate that information."

"Hey," Jain broke in. "You two talk about me as if I'm not in the room. Don't I have any say in this? And what about Chantelle?"

"You don't have any say and Chantelle is free to do what she wants," Solaria replied.

"What's going to stop them from going after her?" Jain asked.

"Chantelle seems quite capable of taking care of herself. Isn't that right?" Solaria asked, turning her attention to the Singer.

Chantelle nodded.

"I'm not in any system. When they described me as invisible, they were right. As far as the government is concerned, I don't exist," she said. "I'm safer on my own."

"Then it's settled," Solaria said, ending the discussion. Exhausted, Jain bid everyone good night and headed for her bedroom. Primeris and Chantelle had no choice but to return to the guest bedroom while Solaria stretched out on the couch. Several hours later, Primeris quietly left the house. Only Solaria was aware of her departure.

CHAPTER 14

Primeris Returns

FEET RESTING ON the desk, Major Harlie leaned back in the chair with her hands cupped behind her head. Her patience and perseverance had finally paid off. For the first time in military history, a woman was commanding Special Unit 33. She had already received confirmation of her promotion to Colonel. She could now move forward with her plans.

Too much time has been lost already. Someone needs to stop this insanity.

The ringing of the deskcom interrupted her thoughts.

"On," she ordered, swinging her feet to the floor.

"Major, we've captured Wone and are bringing her in."

"Captured?"

"Yes, ma'am. She was recognized as she entered the building." The pride in her assistant's voice irritated Harlie.

"I see. Sergeant-Major, please come into my office."

"Yes, ma'am."

Idiot! Captured, my ass.

The door opened and a stocky soldier strolled in, stopping to casually stand by her desk. His nonchalant attitude spoke volumes. Harlie sat for several seconds without speaking.

So this is how's it's going to be.

Pushing her chair back, Harlie slowly stood, walked around the desk and then circled behind the soldier, inspecting his uniform from top to bottom.

"You take your appearance very seriously, don't you Sergeant-Major Kelley?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, puffing his chest out proudly.

"And your job equally seriously," she added.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, as your commanding officer, I can expect you to take me seriously, too?"

Shifting uncomfortably, the Sergeant-Major snapped to attention.

"Yes, ma'am!" He replied forcefully.

"That's good. I had the impression when you entered my office that you didn't. I must be mistaken. Was I mistaken, Sergeant-Major?" Harlie asked, moving back to her chair to sit down. The man's Adam's apple bobbed nervously.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see..." Harlie leaned back in the chair and stared stoically at the soldier. "Tell me, how long did you work for Colonel Cranley?"

"Two years, ma'am."

"Drop the ma'am for now, Sergeant-Major. It's starting to irritate me. Two years. How many years have you been in the service?"

"Twenty-one years, ma —"

"Hmmm! Tell me, in all of those twenty-one years as a dedicated soldier, have you ever addressed an officer without saluting?"

Instantly, the Sergeant-Major's right hand sprang to his forehead in a rigid salute.

"My apologies, Major, I mean Colonel."

"Apology noted. At ease," Harlie ordered. She had made her point. "Now as for Ms. Wone or any other information you might offer me in the future, please make sure you present it in an accurate manner."

"Ma'am?"

"You said she was captured by two of our men while entering this building. I assume she walked in through the main lobby. Did she resist?"

"No."

"Do you think two soldiers could subdue her if she did?"

"Ummm, well, they are two of our best..."

"I don't care if they are five of our best. Ms. Wone could easily deal with them. If she walked in, she came here willingly. No one captured her. When you give disinformation, your credibility and usefulness is worthless to me. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now send her in... alone."

"But Colonel..."

"Alone," Harlie said sternly. "And Sergeant-Major... Don't ever question my orders again. Dismissed."

Saluting, Sergeant-Major Kelley pivoted smartly and marched from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Less than a minute later, the door opened and Primeris Wone walked into the room.

"Good morning, Ms. Wone," Harlie said and motioned for her to take a seat.

"Major Harlie. I'm here to be debriefed as ordered."

"Ordered by whom?"

"Colonel Cranley required me to report to him regularly. The guards informed me that you are now in command."

"Yes," Harlie said. "What else did he order you to do?"

"I'm to report to the Diagnostic Unit for a complete evaluation."

"Why?"

"I questioned his decision to bring two civilians in for questioning," Primeris responded. "He doesn't like being challenged."

"Understandable. What isn't, though, is why you killed Major Simpson and two of our men. That alone is reason to be evaluated."

"Major Simpson panicked and threatened me with his sidearm. The others reacted similarly. It was unwarranted. I defended myself."

"A logical decision and one I completely agree with, if that's what happened. So, why help the prisoners escape afterward?"

"I didn't. Solaria did that."

Stunned, Harlie straightened in her chair and leaned forward, her palms pressed flat against the desk.

"Solaria! Our security system would have detected her."

"She hacked the system. I believe you'll discover the vids were in a loop and the bio-sensors deactivated for approximately thirty minutes. That was plenty of time to enter the building and free the prisoners," Primeris replied.

"After overpowering you."

"Yes."

"And you don't remember anything after that? How's that possible?" Harlie asked, seeming astounded.

"One of my processors is damaged. The information can't be retrieved."

"Would the AI techs be able to?"

Primeris unconsciously shook her head.

"No. Those sectors can't be repaired. Replacing the processor isn't an option. A self-destruct cascade affect would destroy the other processors."

"Meaning what?"

"My processors were installed to be interdependent on each other. Normally, data is stored in contiguous rows for speed and efficiency. Fragmented data takes longer to retrieve but has an advantage. Information spread across multiple processors gives me time to destroy most of the information if someone attempts to tamper with them. Remove one processor and one-third of the data is gone. Whatever is left is useless. "

Although the explanation seemed a bit complicated, Harlie was able to comprehend the theory behind it.

"That actually sounds logical in a warped sort of way. What about your backup?"

Primeris gave an uncharacteristic shrug.

"It's also split between processors."

"Now, that doesn't sound so smart. Even I can see there's a serious design flaw." Harlie snorted her disgust. "Well, I certainly don't trust scientists or techies to get it right now. There's no way I'm letting them play inside your head. They'd screw it up more and you'd be useless to the Unit and to me. Who else knows about your orders besides Major Simpson and Colonel Cranley?"

"No one that I'm aware of."

"Keep it that way. What happened after you regained consciousness?"

For the next two hours, Primeris described, in detail, everything from the moment she awoke to her return to the Unit. Occasionally, Major Harlie would interrupt her with a comment or question. When she finished, both women sat quietly for several minutes.

"Do you often sleep with your assignments?" Harlie asked.

"The question isn't applicable. Chantelle wasn't my assignment and we didn't have sex, if that's what you mean by sleep with her."

"Obviously. You realize we have a bigger problem now. Not only is Solaria aware of your existence, but so are these two women. They're liabilities."

When Primeris frowned, Major Harlie's eyebrows raised slightly.

So you're not as emotionless as I've been told, she thought. This could be disastrous.

"Jain won't tell anyone," Primeris said. "She and Solaria are too close. Going public would create bigger problems for Solaria. Everyone would be hunting her. Jain's not willing to jeopardize her in such a manner."

"And the other woman?"

"Chantelle? She isn't interested in us, nor does she want publicity."

"How do you know that?"

"There are no records on her. There must be a reason she chooses to remain anonymous."

"Maybe, but according to Simpson's prelim report, she was monitoring you, even while you were cloaked. If so, she's more of a threat than Solaria — at least for now."

"Major Simpson was incompetent. His decision to kidnap them put Unit 33 in greater jeopardy. If you continue to follow his strategy, you'll be doing the same."

"And if we ignore the fact they were brought here against their will and are now free to tell anyone they want, we could be putting all of us at risk."

"Major Harlie, if they wanted to disclose what we did, they would have already done that. Your superiors would have contacted you with a damage control plan. I advise you to leave them alone for now. Also, Solaria was the one who breached our security system... apparently with little effort. She can and will do it again if you push her."

"And we'll be ready for her, this time."

"But at what cost to the unit? Whatever you try will end in disaster. She has threatened to expose everyone associated with Unit 33 if we don't leave Jain alone. I have no doubt she has developed a failsafe plan that can do just that if something happens to her or to Jain. Are you willing to take that chance?"

Major Harlie considered the question for several seconds. As much as she hated to admit it, Primeris was right. Unit 33 existed only because of its ability to work under the radar. Publicity was the last thing it needed.

"Of course not! We'll put the librarian on the back burner... for now. Chantelle is another matter. We need to find out who she is and who she works for... and it's more critical than ever that we catch Solaria. If she's told anyone else about us, we need to find them too, before we lose control of everything. You continue to monitor Jain. She might get lax if she thinks Solaria's threats have backed us down."

"It would be better if I —"

"No, it won't," Harlie countered. "You're to stay away from Chantelle. She knows what you look like. I'll assign someone else to find her. Besides, Solaria appears to have developed an emotional attachment to the librarian. I would regret it if you made the same mistake. Understand?"

And it would complicate our own plans. That's the last thing we need.

"You know what I am, Major Harlie. I'm incapable of emotions. Don't mistake my reticence in pursuing Chantelle as feelings. Diverting resources toward her would be a waste of time and money. I'm simply pointing out that I am a more logical choice in locating her since she was fixated on me."

"Your opinion is duly noted. Just stick to your present assignment, Ms. Wone. Report back to me by the end of the week. Dismissed."

Primeris stood and walked out of the office without saying a word. Harlie's stared at the door long after her departure.

For your sake, I hope you're right. The last thing we need to worry about is another Hubot bonding with a human this early in the game.

Waving her hand over the commucom, Harlie summoned Sergeant-Major Kelley. When he entered, he snapped to attention and saluted her smartly.

"At ease, Sergeant-Major. There's a new man in our unit named Corporal Alexander. Please ask him to report to me tomorrow morning at 0700."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

*  *  *

Corporal Alexander glanced at his wristwatch nervously and then at the Sergeant-Major sitting at the desk a few feet away.

"Excuse me, Sergeant-Major, but do you know why the Major wants to see me? I mean, have I done something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not privy to her thoughts," Kelley replied, not looking up from his work. A light flickered on the desk, catching his attention. "You can go in now."

Entering the room, the corporal stood at attention and saluted his commanding officer.

"Corporal Alexander reporting as ordered, ma'am."

Major Harlie returned the salute and motioned for him to sit.

"Have a seat, Brother," she said. "How have you adjusted to 33?"

"Quite well, Sister. Thank you for asking. It's good to see you finally in charge. The Order will be pleased they've succeeded after all these years. Now we can move forward with our plans."

"Yes. Some thought this day would never come. Already we have a complication that needs to be dealt with quickly. That's why I sent for you; we might have to make some changes. I believe Primeris is our immediate concern now. She's evolving faster than we anticipated, and I think she may be developing an emotional attachment to a human... a woman."

"It is inevitable," Alexander said. "Our real concern was that she would bond with a man. That would have been potentially disastrous."

"From what we've learned about Solaria, it could still be a problem. If people's reports are true, she may be able to alter her molecular structure. Personally, I think the likelihood is slim at best, but Hubots are so new, we don't know much about them. Assuming there is some truth to the rumor, we have to accept Primeris may be able to do the same. The ramifications would be unimaginable. On top of that, it's becoming more difficult to track them. Until we know the extent of their abilities, the Order must make every effort to keep them under surveillance."

"Yes. We've lost Solaria again. I'm confident she will be located soon."

"That's unfortunate. Every minute she is out of our sight, we lose valuable information regarding what she is capable of," Major Harlie said.

"I've called in half of our European Brothers and Sisters to assist us. I'm sorry I have failed you, Sister."

"This isn't your failure, Brother. Those who were watching her have failed us. They will be dealt with." Had she been talking to anyone but a Vitiate, her response wouldn't have been so mild. "I know our Brothers and Sisters are doing their best, but with Solaria, our best isn't enough. We must be diligent at all times. She is highly intelligent, more so than any human we've ever encountered. When she is found, double those monitoring her."

"As you command. What do we do now?"

"Inform the others of the situation. Find this woman, Chantelle, and learn what we can about her. If she is a threat, do what we can to eliminate it without harming her."

"And if that's not possible?" Alexander asked.

"I don't know yet. As of now you're on sick leave. Follow Primeris. She should be easy to track. Her assignment is to monitor the librarian. She's the only lead we have."

Alexander nodded and stood.

"I won't let you or the Order down."

"I know, Brother. May you harm only the deserving," Major Harlie said.

"May you harm only the deserving, Sister," Alexander replied, bowing his head slightly. Snapping to attention, he saluted his commanding officer and left.

CHAPTER 15

Manipulation

FRUSTRATION! Like a small, nagging headache, it drains energy until the person is too exhausted to think. For the first time, Primeris understood the emotion. She was deliberately disobeying a direct order by searching for Chantelle. Her attempts had failed miserably; the woman had disappeared without a trace. Both the government and civilian databases were conspicuously absent of information about the woman. Primeris had exhausted all her resources in the search and was now left with only one choice, one she was reluctant to pursue.

*  *  *

"Jain... Jain."

Rolling onto her side, Jain hugged her pillow tighter, hoping the persistent voice would go away.

"Go away," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a person at your door," the voice said.

"What time is it, Phoebe?"

"It is seven o'clock."

"Damn! Who is it?" Jain asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"She identified herself as Primeris Wone."

"Primeris? What the hell does she want at this hour?"

"She wishes to speak to you."

"Obviously. Let her in and I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Certainly, Jain."

*  *  *

Wrapping her robe tightly around her plump body, Jain ignored the new self-claspers and tied the belt the old fashion way. Some things weren't meant to be improved.

"Good morning, Primeris. Would you like a cup of Cafinet?" Jain asked, hoping the woman wouldn't be staying long.

"No, I'm here on business," Primeris replied.

"I didn't think it was a social call."

Motioning for Primeris to sit, Jain walked into the kitchen and made herself a hot drink.

You can just wait until I'm ready, she thought, stirring the liquid for a few seconds. Satisfied she had made her point, she rejoined Primeris in the living room.

"Okay, go for it," Jain said, sitting down in her favorite chair.

"Go for it?"

"Yes, why are you here? I didn't think I'd be seeing you again."

"I need to locate Chantelle. I haven't been able to find any trace of her."

"She probably doesn't want to be found, especially by you. You're not exactly her favorite person, I'd say."

"I didn't harm her, nor did we part on bad terms. There's no logical reason for her to avoid me," Primeris disagreed.

"You were involved in the unit that kidnapped her. That's reason enough. I have no idea where she went. I only met her once before those assholes jumped us. When she left Solaria's place, she didn't say a word."

"Where do you think she might have gone?"

"I don't know the woman, Primeris. Other than her healing powers, I haven't a clue about her. Hell, I don't even know her last name. Do you?"

"No."

"And here I thought you ops people knew everything."

"No one knows everything."

"I was being facetious."

"Oh. Of course," Primeris said. "Well, we would have no way of knowing whether you knew her or not since she isn't in any database."

"I guess you have a problem then. You really don't think I'd help you find her after what you put us through?" Jain stood up and walked to the front door with every intention of telling Primeris to leave. "I'd say you've done enough damage already."

"I had nothing to do with the kidnapping or the torture," Primeris said, sounding exasperated. "It's important that she believe that."

Intrigued by Primeris' uncharacteristic display of emotion, Jain hesitated.

"Why?"

When Primeris didn't answer, Jain returned to her chair and sat down. Leaning forward, she repeated the question.

"Why is it so important that she know that? Surely you don't care what she thinks."

Primeris shook her head.

"No..." she said hesitantly, and then changed her mind. "Yes. Not the way you mean. She needs to understand what I am so she can protect herself."

"From you?"

"I would never hurt her, but my commander thinks she may be a threat."

Wow, Jain thought. This is really getting interesting.

"Are you telling me you're willing to betray your unit for Chantelle's sake? That doesn't make sense... unless..." Jain stopped.

I'm reading too much into her uncertainty. She isn't capable of love. Then again, she's no different than Betta and I know Betta loves Joanie... or at least, is almost there. Wouldn't it be funny if Primeris loved Chantelle? Three out of three female Hubots, lesbians. No nurture/nature argument here. Jain chuckled softly. I'll have to talk to Solaria about this. Maybe she has an explanation.

Deciding now wasn't the time to dwell on Hubot sexuality, she turned her attention back to Primeris. The woman's concern intrigued her.

"Listen, I honestly don't know where she is. I'll consider helping you if you can convince me this isn't a trap."

"It's not a trap."

Several seconds passed without either woman speaking.

"That's it?" Jain asked.

"I don't understand the question," Primeris replied. "I said it's not a trap. Isn't that what you wanted to know?"

Are you really this naïve, or do you think I am, Jain thought.

"I said convince me. You'd tell me that even if you were lying."

"I don't lie," Primeris said.

"Right! You're an agent working for a special ops unit that's involved in who knows what, and you always tell the truth."

"I don't need to lie to be effective. If I were capable of lying, I'd be undependable, making me useless to the unit."

It made sense. Jain knew that group cohesion was necessary to be successful, especially in the Special Forces. For the members to accept Primeris, everyone had to believe in her without reservation.

"Okay, let's say I believe you. What about Solaria? Are you still trying to capture her?"

"Those are my orders."

"Then I'm definitely not helping you. Too bad — Solaria's your only chance to find Chantelle."

"My orders don't specify a time frame," Primeris said.

"Meaning, for the moment, you're willing to ignore them. Do you always manipulate your orders to suit your needs?"

"If by manipulate you mean alter or change... yes. Literal interpretations are restrictive and could prevent me from completing my assignments. My programming gives me a great deal of latitude when necessary."

"That's rather convenient. I need to think about this for a few days. Where can I contact you once I've decided what I'm going to do?" Jain asked.

"I'll contact you in two days."

Primeris stood and left without saying anything else.

"Well, goodbye to you too," Jain mumbled. "Phoebe, call ILU69 and leave a message to get in touch with me... and please make sure it's secured."

"Yes, Jain. Do you want to schedule a time for Solaria to call you back?"

"No, she knows the best times."

"The call is complete. Is there anything else you would like?" Phoebe asked.

"Oh yeah," Jain replied. "But nothing you can help me with. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Jain."

Pushing up from the chair, Jain headed to the bathroom. Thinking of Solaria always made her hot.

And wet!

CHAPTER 16

Wisdom

CHANTELLE WASN'T happy. In fact, she was miserable. For the first time in her life, she had left a patient before completing her mission. She desperately needed the comfort and wisdom of Syblis.

*  *  *

"I don't understand any of this," Chantelle said, absently stirring the herbal brew with a spoon. "She isn't even human."

"From everytheeng you've told me, she eez human enough," Syblis replied. "Deed she not try to seduce you?"

"No... I mean, it wasn't a seduction... She thought I wanted sex."

"And deed you?"

"Certainly not! I was sleeping."

Syblis' eyes twinkled with humor.

"Eet's rather strange that she would theenk you wanted sex eef you were asleep."

"Exactly!" Chantelle agreed. "I imagine it's part of her programming. You know, use sex to get the information you want."

"Perhaps, yet she apologized when she thought she hurt you. Why would a machine be programmed to apologize for something like that? Nor would eet stop because of tears? Those are human responses."

"I know. None of this makes sense. I got such mixed signals when we were together... and... and now, I'm confused."

"About what?" Syblis asked. "About her or about your own feelings?"

"Both, but mostly my feelings. I did want her. I wanted to feel her hands on my body. I wanted her inside of me, caressing me, stroking me... loving me," Chantelle confessed and began to stir the cooling liquid faster.

Syblis reached over and clasped her friend's hand, stilling its movement.

"I theenk you weel wear the spoon out before you ever dreenk that," she said softly. "There eez nothing to be embarrassed about, Cherié. Obviously, you are connected to thees woman een a way that can't be explained."

"But it makes no sense. I know practically nothing about her. Not to mention, she's my patient. It's not right."

"Not right? What eezn't right? We leeve long lives, Chantelle. Lonely lives. Eef we are fortunate enough to fall een love, what deeference does eet make? As long as the person eez worthy."

"That's just it. She isn't worthy. She works for a corrupt organization that thinks nothing of torturing or killing. They are why we do what we do."

"True, but eez that all there eez to her. What do you really know about thees Primeris? She does what she was made to do. Perhaps you weel change her. Show her what being human eez. Perhaps that eez your real mission."

"You think I should go back, don't you?"

"What I theenk eezn't important. You must do what you believe to be right."

"You're right as usual. How did you get so wise, Syblis?"

Syblis patted her hand and laughed.

"Weezdom comes weeth age... and I have plenty of that, mon amie. Now, eef you have no more need of me, I must return home; I have been gone too long. Eet calls to me. I feel the homeseekness."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. You've always been there for me and I love you for that," Chantelle said.

"Ah, so eet eezn't my good looks and brilliant mind that attract you, eh?"

"That too. I will miss you."

"I'm only a call away, Cherié."

Both women stood and hugged, knowing that it would probably be a long time before they met again.

CHAPTER 17

The Hunt

EVEN SOLARIA, for all of her knowledge and skills, was finding it difficult to locate Chantelle. It was inconceivable that nothing about her existed in the world databases.

I'm missing something, she thought. But what? Everyone has a history.

And yet she could find nothing about any Chantelle who fit the woman's profile, description or print scan, with the exception of an inquiry buried deep behind government firewalls. Solaria knew SU33 had some of the best hackers and trackers in the world. Their failure to find information on Chantelle was a compliment to her ability to remain invisible, but it only made Solaria more determined to uncover what she was hiding.

Shutting down the computer, Solaria left the café, making sure no one followed her. She was confident her security measures were more than adequate to conceal her movements, but over-confidence could be disastrous. It was a human flaw she had no desire of achieving.

*  *  *

"Are you telling me Chantelle doesn't exist?" Jain asked, incredulously.

"Of course she exists," Solaria replied. "Just not in any database or file."

"Unbelievable! So what now?"

"I keep searching. Showing her how to access Primeris' processors poses a threat to Hubots, especially if that information falls into the wrong hands."

"I hadn't thought of that," Jain said and then gasped. "What if that's the real reason Primeris wants to contact her? Chantelle could be in more danger now than before."

"Primeris doesn't know about the healing. There has to be another reason for her interest in Chantelle."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. If it's important enough for her to ignore her directives, though, it's important enough for us to find out why. Personally, I'd like to know more about Chantelle... especially how her singing works."

"Yeah, me too. That was a little freaky," Jain confessed. "Where do we go from here?"

"You don't go anywhere. Let me know when Primeris contacts you."

Jain nodded and looked at her watch.

"Well, time for me to get moving. You may not have to work, but I do."

"I'm more than willing to transfer enough money into your account to keep you comfortable," Solaria offered.

Jain laughed.

"If I'm going to be a kept woman, I'd like all the fringe benefits besides money. Unfortunately, you can't provide them. Besides, I happen to like my job. Old books have a richness computers will never replace." Jain paused. "Hmmm, I wonder..."

Solaria's eyebrows rose slowly as she looked at Jain questioningly.

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place for information. She called herself a healer. What if she meant something more than just a healer."

"Such as?"

"I don't know, but the library may have the answer. Meet me back here this evening."

Getting up, Jain headed to work.

*  *  *

Jain's desk was covered with old books. Some dated back several hundred years, each page protected by a thin veneer of a clear polymer to keep oxidation and UV rays from destroying the fragile paper.

"What are you looking for?" her assistant, Amy, asked. "Maybe I can help you find it?"

"I'm trying to find something out about healers," Jain replied, seeing no reason for secrecy.

"Oh. Okay. Ummm. Could you narrow it down a bit more? There's probably a few million references about healers. I take it you're not interested in doctors."

"No. Something outside of the normal medical profession. Maybe a cult or secret society."

"And can I ask why?"

Jain gently placed the book she was holding onto a stack to her right and then picked up another book.

"You can ask, but it wouldn't do you any good. I would appreciate your help, though." A loud sigh caused her to look up at her assistant. "Oh alright! A friend told me she was being treated by a woman who claimed to be able to heal by singing. Obviously it's quackery, so I thought I'd do the research just to make sure and then let her know."

"Wow! It's amazing people still believe in that stuff." Amy snorted in disgust. "Singing, huh? I'll see what I can find."

"Thanks," Jain said and then surprised Amy by snapping her fingers. "You've just given me an idea." Typing rapidly on her virtual keyboard, she entered several words into the library database and then leaned back in her chair as several references appeared on the monitor. "Amy, you're a genius," she declared happily. "It was so simple. Thanks."

Glancing over Jain's shoulder, Amy read what her boss had entered into the search engine: healer healing singer singing cult secret society legends myths. One book referenced the word Singer Healers, 'The Tablets of Jiroft,' by Sheeva Zorayh, Professor of Linguistics at the University of Iran.

"Glad I could help. That looks boring enough. Zorayh is a nutcase. I'd say you can pretty much tell your friend her healer is a fraud and to get a real doctor if he's the only source available," Amy advised.

"I'll do that. Would you mind putting these books back on the shelves? I'd like to check his book out and see what it has to say. Then I can call her and tell her... you know... warn her about the fraud and everything."

"Sure."

*  *  *

Solaria listened as Jain read the short chapter on Singer Healers.

"I know it's not much," Jain said.

"At least it's something. Good job."

"Do you think they could still exist after all this time?"

"They'd have to take extraordinary measures to remain a secret for such a long time. It would be difficult to pull off, but not impossible, if the motivation was strong enough," Solaria said.

"So what now?"

"I'm not sure. I've contacted Hack Attack to see if he can help me. I can't keep going to cafés to use their computers. Someone is eventually going to figure out how I get my information and set a trap. Hack has an entire network of people he can access. If she's still in the city, a camera has picked her up somewhere."

"Okay, that sounds good... except for one or two problems. We don't have a picture of Chantelle, so how's Hack and his crew going to know what she looks like? And there have to be millions of pictures taken each day."

"I gave him the mathematical specs of her face. His facial recognition software can use that to compare with the images. I've told him to focus on the last two days. Anything beyond that would be a waste of time," Solaria said. "At the moment, it's our only chance of finding her."

"At least it's a plan," Jain said. "I have to run. I'll see you later."

CHAPTER 18

The Exhibition

THE SCREEN ABOVE the entrance scrolled the words 'Bio-mechanical Advances in Medicine.' Primeris had been waiting across the street for almost fifteen minutes when she saw the taxi pull in front. When Chantelle exited the cab, Primeris walked up to her.

"I wasn't sure you would come," Primeris said.

"I wasn't either. Solaria and Jain convinced me. I still can't figure how they found me. I'd hate to be on their bad side."

"Solaria has a lot of resources. One of them isolated a picture of you from the security camera at an outdoor café. Another picked you up entering your hotel. It was only a matter of time before she located you, if you were still around."

"Then why couldn't you? Jain said you came to her for help. You must have the same skill levels."

"First, Solaria's more advanced than I am. Second, I couldn't use my resources without putting you in jeopardy. Several agencies are now trying to find out who you are and what organization you work for. It's only a matter of time before you're caught, if you remain in the city."

"And you went to all this trouble to warn me? I find that hard to believe."

"No, I had another reason," Primeris

"What? And why here?" Chantelle asked, pointing to the flashing neon sign a few feet away.

"You need to understand what I am."

"I have a pretty good idea already, remember? We've had this discussion before."

"Yes we have, and no, you don't... but you will," Primeris replied, motioning for her to follow.

*  *  *

The convention hall was enormous. Transparent acryliglass ceilings allowed filtered sunlight to illuminate the interior. Some people wandered around listening to guides narrating the history and science behind the displays. Others preferred to watch holographic vids. Primeris ignored both and led Chantelle to a small room left of the entrance. A steady drone of muted voices drifted from the arched doorway. Stepping aside, Primeris signaled for Chantelle to enter first, curious to see her reaction as she was greeted by the first display.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to the future of humanity," the figure said. "Please come closer so that I can introduce myself properly."

Instinctively, Chantelle stepped forward. Before her stood a life-size figure of a woman, stripped of skin, exposing the musculature-skeletal anatomy of the human body.

"My name was Cecilia. Once, I was a biology teacher, but died in 2032 in an accident. In the hope that I could benefit science, I asked that my body be donated to the Institute of Human Advancement. Now, six decades later, I am fulfilling my dream. I hope my appearance isn't disconcerting. Although this is my real body, it was plasticized shortly after my death. The process involves being immersed in a special solution for six months, preventing decomposition. In order for you to appreciate the scientific advances you will be viewing, you must understand the complexity of the human body. As you can see, I am a combination of tissue and bone. If you look to your left, you will see halovids explaining the circulatory and pulmonary system. Next is the digestive system. To your right is the neuro system.

While the voice continued its narration, Chantelle turned to Primeris with a questioning look.

"I'm familiar with the human body. Surely you didn't ask me here for an anatomy lesson."

"No." Primeris nodded toward another exhibit. "I brought you to see that."

Looking past Primeris, Chantelle saw a small group of people huddled around a glass cylinder. Inside, a human arm was flexing up and down. The hand was gripping a red plastic ball. Occasionally, the finger would open and then close. Micro-wires were attached to the forearm muscles and ligaments. The viewers stared in awe as a male voice explained the science behind the display.

"The scientific world is on the brink of regenerating damaged or diseased limbs," it said. "Here you see an actual cloned human arm. You will notice the fingers opening and closing. Electrical impulses are transmitted through the nerves from a small computer no larger than a fingernail. Like the brain, it is telling the hand what to do. This hand is capable of performing the same intricate tasks as a normal person. Within ten years, we will be able to cure most paralysis due to traumatic injuries.

"That's me," Primeris said, unaware that her right hand was flexing in sync with the one in the container.

"Don't be ridicu —" Chantelle said and then stopped. An uncomfortable feeling crept over her; one she had never felt before. The skin on her arms pebbled up and she shivered.

Vitiate! she thought. Although she had never met one before, instinctively she knew one was near. The energy around her was almost nauseating.

"I have to... leave," she gasped, raising a trembling hand to her forehead and rubbing it. "Now!"

Taking Chantelle's arm, Primeris pulled her through the crowd, brushing anyone aside that blocked their path. Neither noticed the young man in the uniform watching them. Had Chantelle seen him, his pained expression would have given him away. He was...Vitiate.

Once out of the building, Primeris flagged a cab and helped Chantelle inside before climbing in next to her.

"I'm sorry," Chantelle said, leaning her head back and taking a few deep breaths. I always wanted to meet one. I hope I never do again.

"Your reaction was expected," Primeris said.

"My reaction? Oh! No! I mean I wasn't reacting to the exhibit. Something else upset me."

"You don't have to worry about my feelings."

"This has nothing to do with your feelings and nothing to do with that arm. It's just a macabre display... and you're wrong. That's not you."

"Not literally, but it is what I am, although macabre doesn't really apply. I don't believe I am gruesome or represent death in any way."

"You're right. I'm still not feeling well. Maybe we can have this discussion later."

"Of course. I can give you my address. You can contact me when you're ready," Primeris offered.

"That's not necessary. You already know where I'm staying, so let's just go there. We can talk once I feel better."

Leaning forward, Chantelle gave the hotel address to the cabbie. For the rest of the trip, neither spoke.

CHAPTER 19

Vitiates

CORPORAL ANDERSON knew the moment the Healer entered the room. When he saw who she was with, he felt an almost debilitating nausea, physically and mentally. Getting too close to the Healer would alert her to his presence, not to mention the possibility Primeris would recognize him. She had access to all the files of unit members.

Damn! he thought when they moved in his direction. His nerves screamed. The Healer's energy was devastatingly painful, both physically and mentally. You aren't a normal Healer. I need to let Sister Harlie know Primeris has chosen a Healer, a powerful one. This isn't good, not good at all.

*  *  *

"You're sure?" Major Harlie asked.

"The pain was excruciating. Nothing like I've ever experienced before. If she had gotten any closer, I think I would have screamed or passed out," Corporal Anderson said, rubbing his forehead. He still had a slight headache from the encounter.

"I warned the Council decades ago that such a Healer would appear one day."

"What could they have done? Our laws forbid us to interfere with Healers or their missions. We should have done something before she was born. How did she get past the Sentinels? What if there are others like her? It could be disastrous for all of us."

"None of us are infallible, Brother. We do our best, but often it's not enough. Whether it's Healer or Vitiate that moves mankind to its final destiny is unimportant, as long as the final results are what we want."

"True. What do we do now?"

"I'll send word to the Elders. You make sure that only our strongest Vitiates are assigned to her for now. Tell them to keep a safe distance. No one is to take any action without my knowledge. Watch her, nothing more, understand?"

"Your wishes will be obeyed, Sister. May you harm only the deserving," Corporal Anderson said.

"May you harm only the deserving, Brother," Major Harlie replied.

After he left, she activated her desk phone and dictated a number. Within seconds, a female voice answered.

"Convene the Council," Major Harlie said. "I know it will take time... No, we must meet as soon as possible. Try to get them here by next Tuesday... If it wasn't important, I wouldn't have called. A crisis may be brewing as we speak... Yes, yes, please do what you can...  Thank you, Sister Robere... May you harm only the deserving."

Deactivating the phone, Harlie turned her attention to a small plastic case on her desk. The cover was labeled 'Colonel Walter Cranley, KIA.' Inside was a memory chip describing in great detail how he had died serving his country. Shaking her head, she picked it up and flipped it like a coin. Tomorrow he was being buried with all the military honors deserving of his rank. His family would be present and she had been ordered to give a speech about his extraordinary dedication to duty and family.

At least the duty part is true. He didn't give a shit about his family. You've got to love military mentality, Major Harlie thought. Eliminate problems quickly. Cover everything up and move on.

CHAPTER 20

Revelations

"MAKE YOURSELF AT home," Chantelle said, tossing her jacket on the sofa. "I have some food in the fridge. I'll make us something to eat."

"Ordering from room service would be more practical since you're not feeling well," Primeris said.

"That works for me. The menu's on the table. I'm going to take a quick shower."

Twenty minutes later, Chantelle returned. Wrapped in a bathrobe, she was rubbing her hair vigorously with a towel.

"If you want to clean up, there's another robe in the closet, compliments of the hotel," she offered.

"I'm fine," Primeris said. "Thank you. The food has arrived. I didn't know what you liked to eat, so I ordered steaks, salads and fresh fruit."

"I'm not much on meat, but the salad and fruit sound good. You can have the steak if you want."

"Thank you. My energy level is getting low. Meat protein will boost it quicker than plant material."

Chantelle gave her a curious look, but didn't comment.

*  *  *

"Are you feeling better?" Primeris asked, placing her plate and utensils on the cart.

"Yes," Chantelle replied. "It was probably low blood sugar. I didn't eat anything for lunch."

"Your symptoms weren't typical of low blood sugar."

"They weren't typical of anything I've ever experienced. Whatever it was, I'm over it. At the moment, I'm more interested in your need to explain yourself to me. Why was it so important, and why the Bio-Tech Exhibit?"

"You needed to know what I am," Primeris said. "Visuals are always better than words."

"I told you I already know about you. Solaria went into great detail about your design. How else could I heal you?"

"Heal me? Heal me how?" Primeris' eyes narrowed slightly, the only indication that Chantelle's revelation had caught her by surprise.

"By booting your backup system. Solaria told me what needed to be done to access your processors. If it wasn't for her, you'd be dead."

Hearing that Solaria had played an active role in her repairs was disconcerting. Unconsciously, Primeris twirled the bracelet on her wrist. Once she had analyzed the transmitter blocker, she decided to keep it active, insuring she couldn't be tracked electronically.

"Why would Solaria want to save me? She knows my mission is to capture her."

"You'd have to ask her. I imagine she has her reasons, although I have to admit she didn't seem to care one way or another if you lived or died. My guess is that she wanted to please Jain."

"Jain is Solaria's weakness. She will eventually lead to her capture. Solaria should sever the attachment," Primeris said.

"Their attachment, as you call it, is their strength. Emotions are the most motivating forces in existence."

"And the most destructive."

"Which is what makes life so interesting... and brings us back to why you're here, doesn't it?" Chantelle asked.

"No, my reason has nothing to do with emotion. You were instrumental in reactivating my processors. I would no longer exist, had you not helped me."

"You didn't know that until now, so that's not why you're here. Besides, what difference would that make if you were simply a machine?"

Primeris had puzzled over that question for quite awhile. She didn't have a rational answer and was troubled by her inability to come up with one.

"You're in denial," Chantelle said, "and you're afraid. I imagine it must be quite overwhelming to discover you're a mere mortal like the rest of us." Primeris was about to answer when Chantelle held up her hand. "Don't deny it. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, you know I'm right. Anyway, I'm too tired to argue. Rest will do both of us good. We can discuss this later."

Taking the suggestion as a dismissal, Primeris stood and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"You want to sleep."

"Yes, and I expect you to stay."

"I —"

"You went to a lot of trouble to find me, Primeris. I'm checking out of this hotel in a day or two. I won't be found as easily the next time... assuming you still want to talk."

Primeris had no choice but to stay. Chantelle's disclosures created new questions. She was the only one who could help answer them.

"I'll sleep on the floor."

"You'll sleep on the bed like before. There's no reason to be shy now," Chantelle said. Turning her back on Primeris, she removed her robe and slipped into bed. "And turn the light off."

Doing as she was told, Primeris lay next to Chantelle. She closed her eyes and shut down two of her processors. Although aware of her surroundings, her muscles relaxed. Entering sleep mode, she wondered if the strange dream would return... and hoped not. Almost immediately Primeris realized hope could not be controlled.

The bedroom was dark, except for a faint glow shining through the frosted window. Chantelle placed her palms on Primeris' chest and gently shoved her backward against the wall.

Primeris wasn't sure what to do. If she deactivated the hibernation command, the dream would disappear and she would never know how it ended.

Maybe better than my first.

Pinned against the wall, Primeris didn't know what to do. She could push Chantelle away, but she didn't want to hurt her — at least, that's what she kept telling herself.

"I can't do this," Primeris said.

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

"I'll hurt you."

"Hurt me? How? Physically? Mentally?"

"Both. I can't give you what you want."

"How do you know what I want? I've never told you. You've never asked. Do you know me so well?"

"Yes," Primeris replied. "You're no different than the other women I've had sex with. You want me to make love to you."

"There's a difference between sex and love. Those other women, did you love them?"

"I'm not capable of love."

"How do you know what you're capable of?" Chantelle asked. "You've been hiding behind your non-human side since you were activated. Can you honestly say you haven't changed since then?"

"Of course I've changed. Nothing stays the same."

"Exactly. Nothing and no one. You once thought I wanted sex with you. I do. You even bragged about how well you could pleasure women. Why hesitate now?"

"I don't believe this is what you really want."

Chantelle's hand reached up to stroke Primeris' cheek. Primeris felt a jolt of energy course through her like an electric shock. Her heartbeat jumped wildly and then settled back down.

"Primeris," a soft voice whispered near her ear. "Primeris, wake up."

Blinking, Primeris opened her eyes and stared at the face a few inches from her own.

"Chantelle?" The Healer's left palm was spread on her chest, shaking it gently.

"You were dreaming."

Raising her left hand up to her forehead, Primeris rubbed her left temple with her fingers.

"It's only the second one I've ever had."

"Dream? I can't imagine not dreaming. Perhaps that explains it," Chantelle said.

"Explains what?"

"Why you were talking in your sleep. I can't imagine someone in your position doing that."

"What did I say?" Primeris asked, surprised.

"Apparently, I wanted you... in the dream that is."

"It's must be the result of my damaged processor."

"Maybe... Maybe not," Chantelle whispered, leaning closer. "The truth is, I have wanted you for a long time... and I think you want me. Maybe you don't know it yet."

"I —"

"But you will once we've made love," Chantelle continued, interrupting Primeris' response.

"I'm not capable of love. I'm a —"

"Yes, I know. A machine. I don't believe that, but there's really only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"Yes... No."

Chantelle laughed softly.

"Which is it?"

"Both. I'm confused. I know very little about you, but I do feel we're somehow connected. That's not rational."

"Some things can't be rationalized, Primeris. I was drawn to you before I knew you even existed. Can any of your logic explain that?"

Primeris shook her head.

"There are powers beyond our wildest imaginations and speculations. I'm not talking about gods or spirits or anything like that. Like you, I don't believe in that stuff — at least, I don't think I do. The truth is, I don't know what I believe in, except for one thing. You and I were meant to meet... and to be together, maybe for a just short time or maybe forever. Why not give it — give us — a try."

"You'd be in danger by being with me."

"I know that. I'm confident your skills are more than a match against anyone we may encounter."

"We'll be hunted by SU33 or some other government group," Primeris countered.

"Then we'll hide until they grow tired of looking for us."

"And if they catch us?"

"They won't. They won't, Primeris. You'd never allow that to happen. I'd never let it happen," Chantelle said.

Grimacing faintly, Primeris took the two hands pressed against her chest and cupped them in her own.

"How did I let you get this close to me? I'm confused. Nothing makes sense. The effect you have on me isn't logical."

"Emotions are never logical. They are what they are. We are what we are, doing the best we can. Maybe that's why we value love so much. When it's right, it can make the most illogical behavior reasonable."

"That's a very human explanation. I don't know about love or what you want."

"Only what you can give, Primeris. Nothing more," Chantelle said, her voice low and husky.

"You should be with a real woman."

Chantelle smiled.

"Your heart tells me you're real. I feel it pounding like a drum. Has this ever happened before... I mean, when you were with another women?"

"No."

"Then believe in your heart for now."

Hesitantly, Primeris pushed Chantelle away from her and onto her back. Slowly, she ran her fingers between the valley of Chantelle's breasts, exploring the soft skin.

"Your skin is almost perfect," she said. "It looks and feels so fragile. The others... they enjoyed rough —"

Chantelle placed her fingertips over Primeris' lips, silencing her.

"I don't want to hear about them. Be who you are. I'm a Healer, Primeris, and tougher than you think. I'll teach you how to be gentle. Right now, I need you. I want your hands on me and in me. I want to be consumed by your mouth, your tongue, your eyes."

Inhaling slowly, Primeris couldn't deny she wanted the same thing. Cupping Chantelle's face in her hands, she lowered her lips slowly and fought the urge to plunder the other woman's mouth.

Gently... Gently... she thought, forcing aside the old Primeris, the old programming. This isn't programming. This isn't me. Or is it? Primeris realized it didn't matter. Her kiss was soft and fleeting, like a butterfly resting on a flower. The image caught her off-guard. She pressed Chantelle into the sheets. Her hands and mouth explored Chantelle's body, memorizing every inch, every spot that elicited a response.

Chantelle accepted the gentle, clinical touch. She knew this was a critical moment for both of them. If Primeris could relinquish the controlling, analytical part of her mind for even a few minutes, she would eventually acknowledge her human side.

"Women are very soft," Primeris said, more to herself than Chantelle. "Some deceptively so... like you. Do you exercise?"

"Not really, although I've spent most of my life walking great distances."

"Why would you do that?" Primeris asked. "Vehicles are quite efficient and comfortable. People can travel almost anywhere in the world in a few hours."

"Exactly. I happen to enjoy walking."

"You have good genes."

"Thank you," Chantelle said, her voice tinged with amusement.

The fingers stopped their exploration and settled on her stomach.

"I said something funny?"

"No... Well, actually, yes, in a way. We're supposed to be making love and you're talking anatomy."

"I was making an observation."

Reaching down, Chantelle began guiding Primeris' hand lower.

"We'll observe later. Now isn't the time."

Primeris renewed her exploration. This time, however, it was different. Still gentle, the fingertips lost the unemotional detachment like before. Primeris' palms caressed Chantelle's ribs, moving slowly up and down her sides and thighs. Thumbs massaged the nipples until they became swollen and firm.

A musky smell permeated the air. Primeris was familiar with the scent of arousal. In the past, she had used sex to gain the trust of both men and women, and with trust came information and compliance. This was different. For the first time, there wasn't an ulterior motive. Primeris felt herself growing wet and immediately stopped.

Chantelle groaned.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pushing up on one elbow.

Sitting up, Primeris reached down, touched herself between her legs and then raised her hand and sniffed it.

"I'm wet," Primeris said.

"I would hope so."

"Why?"

"I thought you said you had sex before," Chantelle replied, sitting up.

"I have. This has never happened."

"Oh... Oh! Great! I mean this is actually good." Primeris gave Chantelle a questioning look. "Really, this means you're actually feeling something."

"I don't feel like I'm feeling anything."

"Oh," Chantelle said, sounding disappointed. "Are you sure? No increased heartbeat? Irregular breathing? That sort of thing?"

Primeris ran a quick system analysis and noticed there had been a change in her metabolism. Her processor's failure to discover the discrepancy was disconcerting. Her mind and body had been out of sync for almost eight minutes.

"There was a malfunction," Primeris confessed.

"Malfunction."

"Yes. An irregularity. I'm running a diagnostic to determine the reason."

Patting Primeris' hand, Chantelle stood up and headed toward the bathroom.

"If you find it, let me know. When you don't, I'll tell you what happened," Chantelle promised. "In the meantime, it's a start. Let's get a shower and something to eat. There's no reason to hurry, and all of this has made me hungry."

Distracted by her inability to resolve the aberration, Primeris silently followed Chantelle into the bathroom.

Three Months Later

Primeris' eyes followed Chantelle's movements as she walked along the river bank. The decision to leave SU33 was difficult; the rationale indisputably flawed. In the end, her need to be with Chantelle was greater than the dictates of her programs. Like Solaria, she was now hunted, although not aggressively at the moment. Solaria's threat to expose everyone involved in SU33 had worked. No one wanted to be publicly connected with a rogue unit. Colonel Harlie was ordered to keep the unit under a tight rein until further orders. The time lag gave Chantelle and Primeris the opportunity to escape.

Jain provided the means, once she learned of their plans. She had become their staunchest ally, bullying Solaria into helping them. Hack Attack agreed to provide fake passports and I.D.s. He also tweaked government records, insuring they could travel safely anywhere they wanted without arousing suspicion. Their time was now spent getting to know each other.

Primeris knew Chantelle loved her, but wondered if it was enough to sustain their relationship. Love was important to humans, but they needed more — especially women. Women normally wanted children; Healers were no different. Although they led solitary lives, they dreamed of the impossible — having a child. Never in their history had a Healer ever produced an offspring. Healing required too much energy, leaving nothing to sustain a fetus, let alone a child growing in the womb.

*  *  *

Solaria watched Primeris' expression with interest.

"You love her," Solaria stated, noticing the faint changes in the usually stoic face.

"Perhaps. Maybe as much as a machine can love," Primeris said.

"You still haven't accepted the part of you that's human, have you?"

"Have you?" Primeris countered.

"I'm working on it. You have the advantage, though. Your relationship with Chantelle gives you insight I can only try to imagine. The only way you can have a life with her is to accept who you are."

Primeris turned to look at Solaria.

"Who I am is the problem. Am I to forget the side of me that isn't human? You know better than anyone I can't do that."

"What I know is you are in position no one else has ever been in," Solaria said. "Chantelle is a Healer, a Singer. She knows what you were and who you are, now. That should be enough. If it's not, then she will be unhappy, you will continue to be lost and, in time, I will have to destroy you before you really become the machine you keep embracing."

"Or I will destroy you," Primeris countered.

"That's possible. I'll always have an advantage over you, but I'd prefer not to put it to a test. Believe in Chantelle for now. You've got nothing to lose."

"True. She knows I'm bio-mechanical and loves me anyway. I don't understand the logic behind that. It's irrational," Primeris replied, once again glancing at Chantelle.

Solaria smiled. It was a facial expression she had grown comfortable with in the past few months, and she enjoyed the feeling that accompanied it.

"So is your love for her — if you were simply a machine. I envy you. She has brought out some of your humanity."

It was Primeris' turn to smile, although it was more forced.

"No need to be insulting," she retorted.

"And a sense of humor. It has to be love."

Primeris' face reverted to a neutral expression. Her uncertainties resurfaced.

"She needs more than just me."

"What more is there?" Solaria asked, and then realized Primeris wasn't talking about feelings. "You mean children."

"Yes."

"That shouldn't be a problem. She's a Healer. She's certainly healthy enough... and there's always adoption."

"That's the only option. Healers can't have children. "

Solaria was surprised by the information.

"Why not? Are they infertile?"

"No. They could cure that. The amount of energy they expend helping others damages the fetus. It aborts within weeks of conception."

"Why can't they take a sabbatical and divert their energy to the fetus?"

Primeris didn't have an answer. Solaria's reasoning was logical. Unfortunately, Healers were passionate about their calling — perhaps so much so that they failed to consider the obvious.

"I don't know."

"You should ask her," Solaria suggested. She was surprised when Primeris didn't respond. Obviously, something else was bothering her. It took only a nano-second for her to figure out what the real problem was.

"You want a child too," she said. "Your own biological offspring."

"I..." Primeris shook her head as if trying to rid herself of the thought. "That's ridic... I'm not thinking logically. As you said, we can adopt. I'll suggest it to Chantelle. She'll be pleased at the thought."

Before Solaria could respond, Chantelle called out and motioned for them to join her. Acknowledging the summons with a wave, Primeris walked toward the river. Solaria followed slowly, wanting to give them a few minutes of privacy. Chantelle and Primeris had many obstacles to overcome before they could seriously think about children. Like any couple, they needed time to grow and understand each other's wants and needs. If — Solaria corrected the thought — When the time was right, she would reveal to Primeris a secret; one that would change their future and the future of everyone around them.

*  *  *

2099 A.D.

The message from Jain said 'urgent' and asked Solaria to come home as soon as possible. The concept of having an actual home had seemed strange at first. Eventually, she recognized it gave her a sense of belonging. Jain had become the anchor to her growing humanity. She even imagined giving up her mission and settling down. Unfortunately, the need to find all of the Hubots was critical... and eventually, the Anibots. Solaria knew animal bot technology had preceded the development of Hubots.

*  *  *

Solaria didn't need a watch to know the time or that Jain was running late. Normally it wasn't a problem, except that Terry, Jain's oversexed neighbor, decided to corner Solaria on the condo steps. After several failed attempts to get Solaria to go out with her, Terry changed tactics.

"Let's go inside?" Terry offered. "I'll fix some tea and —"

"Not today, Terry," Solaria replied, seeing the hope in Terry's eyes fade. Your persistence is annoying, she thought. Solaria calculated the distance between the trashcan and the top step they were standing on. Jain's right. You're wacko. One good toss...

"Listen, Solaria, it makes no sense to stand here when we can wait comfortably inside. Jain's always running late and..."

The trashcan was beginning to look more appealing. Fortunately, before Solaria could act, she heard Jain call her name. Relieved, Solaria thanked Terry for her offer and walked down the steps to greet her friend.

"I didn't think you'd ever get here," she confessed.

Jain laughed.

"Terry's still at it, eh? She's had the hots for you ever since she first saw you."

"I wasn't interested in her then and I'm not now. Can we go inside? I feel like roadkill and she's the nearest vulture. I was ready to toss her in the trashcan."

"Wow!" Jain exclaimed. "You've come a long way. That's a very human reaction. Maybe Terry's doing you some good after all," she teased.

"Assaulting people isn't considered an admirable trait."

Taking Solaria's arm, Jain pulled Solaria up the steps and past a very disgruntled-looking Terry. Unlocking her door, Jain nudged Solaria inside.

"Depends on the who and the why," Jain said. "Anyone who knows Terry would probably consider it justifiable. Enough about her, though. I'm so happy to see you again." Wrapping her arms around Solaria, she gave her a powerful hug.

Solaria returned the embrace. She had missed Jain over the last several months — more than she had realized.

"It's good to see you too. I'm finally beginning to understand the importance of friendships. I consider you my number one friend."

Jain's eyes began to tear and she sniffled.

"I... I'm honored and proud. I've never really had a best friend."

Deciding that things were getting a little too sentimental, she pushed away and headed for the kitchen.

"Let's get something to eat. Primeris and Chantelle should be here shortly. I told them not to show up before eight, just in case I had to work late."

After fixing a quick meal of salad and sliced chicken, Jain and Solaria sat down at the kitchen table and began catching up on the latest news.

The sound of a doorbell interrupted their conversation.

"That should be them," Jain said, walking to the door. Opening it, she greeted Primeris and Chantelle with a hug and motioned them into the living room. Solaria greeted Chantelle with a gentle embrace and nodded to Primeris.

"You two are looking well," Solaria said. "I was concerned that something was wrong when Jain contacted me."

"We're fine," Chantelle replied, grinning happily. "I suppose we could have just told Jain and let her tell you the good news but... well, in a way you made it possible."

Confused, Solaria looked at Chantelle and then at Primeris.

"Perhaps you can be a little clearer."

"I'm pregnant," Chantelle announced happily. "We're having a baby."

Stunned, Jain's eyes opened wider as her jaw dropped.

"How? No, I mean... not how. I don't want to know how. Well, I do want to know how but not the how like in how but... Oh damn, you know what I mean," Jain exclaimed and then turned red as the three women focused their attention on her. "Hey, don't look at me like that."

Chantelle laughed. Primeris and Solaria made eye contact but said nothing. Spontaneous outbursts were still something they didn't quite understand.

"Let's sit down and you can tell me all about it," Jain said. "I'm probably the only one who doesn't know how you pulled this off."

Primeris and Chantelle moved to the couch and sat down. Chantelle took Primeris' hand in hers and clasped it firmly. Solaria and Jain sat in the two remaining chairs facing them.

"Primeris can explain everything. She'll do a better job than me," Chantelle said, nudging Primeris with her elbow. "Keep it simple. Not all of us are as brilliant as you two." She glanced at Solaria to emphasize who she was referring to.

Giving Chantelle an indignant look, Primeris turned back to Jain. Solaria already knew how it had been accomplished.

"I didn't know I had the ability to use my stem cells to derive gametes that could bond with Chantelle. Three months ago, Solaria sent me a message saying it was possible to fertilize an ovum using this technique. She knew Chantelle... we wanted a child. It took some prac —"

"Whoah! Wait a minute," Jain exclaimed, holding up a hand. "What's a gamete?"

"It's a cell that fuses with another one. They're called gametes," Primeris explained. "That's the foundation for conception."

"And you were able to do this, how?" Jain asked.

"I isolated stem cells, altering their genetic structure. Then I implanted —"

Holding up her hand again, Jain waved it wildly, cutting Primeris off.

"No, no, no. No details on the how," she exclaimed.

"I was only answering your questions," Primeris replied, sounding slightly indignant.

Chantelle put her hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle. Solaria remained stoically silent. She knew the conversation would eventually come around to her and wasn't surprised when Jain turned to confront her.

"You never mentioned anything about this stuff to me," she accused, looking directly at Solaria.

Solaria shrugged.

"There was no need."

"No need! Certainly there's a need. You're my best friend. We're supposed to share things."

"Some things take time. We're sharing now. Primeris and Chantelle needed to spend time together to see if they were compatible. Their year in hiding gave them that time. Now, are you interested in the details of the pregnancy or would you prefer we talk about each other now?" Solaria asked, calmly. "Keep in mind, it will take a very long time to disclose everything we need to about ourselves."

"Don't try pulling that on me," Jain warned. "We're going to have that long talk later."

Realizing Jain was serious, and in a way hurt, Solaria acknowledged the threat with a slight nod.

"You're right. We'll talk later. Let Primeris finish telling us how this happened," she suggested.

Picking up the cue, Primeris continued her explanation.

"Like I said, Chantelle wanted a child."

"We wanted a child," Chantelle interrupted.

"Yes, of course. We wanted a child."

"Our own child," Chantelle emphasized.

"Would you like to tell this?" Primeris asked, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner.

"Sorry," Chantelle replied. "You go ahead."

"I get the point," Jain said.

"Having concluded that we wanted children —"

"Children!" Jain exclaimed. "Are you having twins?"

Frustrated at all of the interruptions, Primeris gave a very human sigh.

"No, Chantelle carries only one child... a girl."

"A girl? You're having a baby girl? Wow! This is so wonderful." Jumping up, Jain hurried over to Chantelle to give her another hug and then slapped Primeris on the back. "I bet you're proud."

"Obviously I'm not going to get the chance to explain how this happened..."

"Oh, sorry." Jain sat back down, interlocked her fingers and rested her hands on her lap.

Solaria, who had been sitting quietly, watching everyone, was amused at Primeris' frustration, Chantelle's calm demeanor and Jain's erratic enthusiasm.

"Perhaps I should take over," she offered and was amazed when everyone looked relieved. "I'll take those expressions as a yes. It's quite simple. When I was at Future Dynamicon, I discovered that I could alter some of my cells on a molecular level. At first, I could only change my eye color and skin tones. Then I learned how to repair injured tissue. When Primeris told me she and Chantelle wanted children, I decided to tell her what I knew... when the time was right. I suggested it might be possible to use those skills to accomplish their goal."

"You mean... I mean, you don't mean she changed her..." Jain wasn't quite sure how to phrase her question. "You know... made a... a —"

Before she could bring herself to say the word, Chantelle burst out laughing.

"Penis?" she asked. "Good lord, no. I love Primeris but I'm not about to ask her to do something like that. I'm not even sure she could. Besides, I'm not into that."

Before Jain could comment, Solaria continued.

"Nothing that drastic was necessary. All she had to do was create the gamete cells and inject them into Chantelle's vagina."

"I wouldn't exactly describe it as injecting," Chantelle objected. "That sounds so clinical, and there certainly wasn't anything clinical about what we did."

"I should hope not," Jain replied.

Solaria was beginning to understand Primeris' frustration.

"I stand corrected. My point is, she was able to create cells that could penetrate Chantelle's ovum, resulting in a fertilized egg. Since both partners are women, it's only logical that a girl would be the final result."

"I could have changed that," Primeris added. "We wanted a girl."

"It's a logical choice," Solaria said. "There are a lot of characteristics you could affect. How far did you go?"

"We decided to let nature take its course as much as possible, so we're not sure about her at this time," Primeris replied. "Chantelle convinced me it will be more interesting that way."

"She's right," Jain piped in. "I can't wait to see what she looks like. When is she due?"

"I have calculated that her arrival date is six months, three days and forty —"

Chantelle squeezed Primeris' hand.

"You really need to stop doing that. People get nervous when you're so precise."

"Sorry," Primeris said. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to change that part of me."

Smiling, Chantelle leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I love you just the way you are. Don't change."

Hearing those words, Primeris' face completely relaxed and she smiled for the first time. The transformation caught Solaria by surprise — and from Jain's stunned expression, her too. Not sure what to say, everyone remained quiet until Primeris asked Solaria if she could talk to her alone. Nodding, they stood and walked into the kitchen.

*  *  *

"Is there a problem?" Solaria asked.

"I'm not sure," Primeris replied. "Much of what I've said is true, but not everything."

"Like letting nature take its course?"

"Yes. So far Chantelle has been able to maintain the necessary energy levels to keep the baby alive, with the help of other Healers. One is now living with us. Another will replace her in three weeks, and then another after that."

"That's good. That's not what's worrying you, though, is it?"

"No. I've had to modify certain links in the DNA chain to create the human components that I lack. The brain concerns me the most; there was nothing to guide me in designing it, except what I've read. What if it's flawed?"

"Then it will be human," Solaria said. "Isn't that what you want?" When Primeris didn't answer, Solaria frowned. "Are you afraid of something else, Primeris?" Fear was something she wouldn't have credited Primeris with at such an early stage in her emotional development. If she was, it was a good indication of how rapidly she was evolving.

"I'm... concerned. I don't want to let Chantelle down. If our child is deformed or inadequate, I'll have failed her."

"You've done everything you can. Humans live with this worry every day. When she's born, many of your questions will be answered. Many won't. You're wasting energy second-guessing your efforts."

"I'm aware I'm being illogical," Primeris said.

"A very human response. There will always be instances when we try to reject that part of us."

"So I'm finding out. You're right, though. Dwelling on what can't be changed is useless. No matter what happens, we'll deal with it."

"You'll have no choice," Solaria agreed. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. As a Healer, Chantelle will know if something is wrong. I suspect she'll correct the major problems while the baby is in the womb, sub-consciously. It's what she is. And if she can't, the other Healers will."

"True. Being a Healer has many advantages. "

"And disadvantages. What will she do if she gets a calling?" Solaria asked.

"I'm not sure. The other Healers are holding a gathering in a few weeks to discuss the probabilities. They're as excited about this as we are. They may forbid her from responding."

"As they should," Solaria said. "Having you for her partner is her best protection. Your offspring should have a biological advantage over humans. We're physically superior."

For the second time that night, Primeris smiled.

"That's true. I'm beginning to understand their enthusiasm for reproducing."

"Good. We should rejoin the girls now," Solaria suggested. "They're probably wondering why we've been gone so long."

"Wait," Primeris said, instinctively reaching for Solaria's arm to stop her. "There's something else I wanted to discuss with you — a malfunction in my processors."

"What kind of malfunction?"

"I'm not sure. I was in hibernation mode. I don't know how to describe what happened. It's as if reality was altered and I was someplace else. Chantelle was there also."

"You had a dream," Solaria said.

"Chantelle said the same thing when I told her, but that's not possible."

"Normally, I'd agree with you, but I've had several over the past year. The first left me confused. Nothing in it seemed to make sense. I've thought about it a lot and have come to believe dreams are a way for us to become more accepting of our human side. I'm sure if you analyze yours, you'll find it relevant to your emotional growth. If your experience is similar to mine, there will be more."

Without commenting, Primeris walked back to her partner and sat down. Solaria joined them, giving Jain a slight nod. Jain would have questions later, but for now she understood everything was fine for the moment.

A Healer’s Wisdom

The cool breeze and overcast sky reminded Syblis of London. She was homesick, but was comforted knowing she would be back home soon. Had her mission to the States not been necessary, she would be huddled in front of her fireplace, soaking up its warmth. Taking another sip of tea, she glanced at the other people around her.

Peculiar lot, she thought. The restaurant was located in an eclectic part of town comprised of old buildings with modern facades, brick streets and early Twenty-First Century street lamps. The majority of the customers wore a hodge-podge of clothing as if they had grabbed the nearest thing within reach. Artists are the same everywhere.

The thought wasn't a criticism. She was used to the idiosyncrasies of the creative mind. London was filled with artists.

"A penny for your thoughts," a voice whispered near her ear.

Startled, Syblis jumped, spilling the tea on her slacks.

"You're the only one who can sneak up on me like that," Syblis accused, brushing at her pants with one hand while reaching out to hug Chantelle with the other. It was impossible to miss Chantelle's pregnant condition as the large belly pushed against her side. "I must say you look terreefeec," she declared, stepping back to get a good look at her friend.

Chantelle patted her stomach proudly.

"I look like a whale, "she declared and then motioned toward a woman standing a few feet away. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Jain."

"Ah, yes. Eet's so nice to meet you, Jain. Chantelle has told me much about you and how you helped her. The Sisterhood eez grateful beyond words for looking after our most treasured Healer. We weel forever be een your debt."

A few inches taller than Jain, Syblis leaned forward and kissed her on each cheek and then grinned when Jain's face turned slightly pink.

"I... I..." Jain stammered.

Syblis and Chantelle exchanged amused glances.

"I'm sorry eef I've embarrassed you. Keesing the cheeks eez a quaint custom I refuse to geeve up. Please seet." Syblis said, motioning at the two empty chairs next to hers. "Would either of you like sometheeng to dreenk?"

"Tea would be nice," Chantelle replied. Jain nodded in agreement, her cheeks still flushed.

After ordering beverages, Syblis focused her attention on Jain.

"You reely must forgeeve me."

"No, no, I'm fine," Jain said.

"Good. So... I'm told you are a librarian. Books are one of our most sacred possessions. Eet must be exciting to be surrounded by so many."

"I've always loved the feel and smell of books, but I wouldn't describe my work as exciting." Jain hesitated and then grinned. "Normally!"

Everyone laughed.

"Nonseense. Healers love knowledge. Books are very eemportant. Eet eez an honor to meet another Keeper."

"Keeper?"

"Eet eez what we call those who record and protect heestory. So, my friend," Syblis said, turning back to Chantelle. "How eez your Primeris holding up under all of thees?"

"She's fine. Well, if you call acting like an overprotective mother hen fine."

"Thees must very deefficult for her, dealing weeth motherhood and her growing eemotions."

Chantelle gave her a strange look.

"How —"

"Am I not a Seer? Eet eez what I do."

"But only when it pertains to your patients. I'm not —"

"Actually, you are. That eez why I'm here."

"I don't understand."

"Chantelle, I'm here because you need me. You called to me."

"You're here to heal me?" Chantelle asked, her eyebrows shooting upward. "Is my child in danger? Surely I'd know. I'd feel something." Feeling a growing panic, she looked down at her protruding belly and caressed it lovingly.

"She eez fine. I deedn't mean to upset you, Chantelle. Eet's more to resolve the doubts you have. For now, she eez your prioreety. Notheeng else matters."

"She's been acting up a bit lately. I think we're going to have our hands full when she's born."

"Yes. That's the other reason I'm here. The Seesters were sorry you meesed the gathering. Eet went well. Everyone eez fine and eexcited for you. All agree you are not to do anytheeng to jeopardize her well-beeing. Eef you feel a calling, you must contact one of us," Syblis ordered.

"What can any of you do? A Singer must answer her own calling. It's the Law," Chantelle objected.

"Then eet's a Law we weel change. Een fact, I theenk many of our Laws need reveesion. Unteel eet happens, you weel be breaking many of our Laws," Syblis replied, calmly. "Singers are few een number now. We weel not exist een a few hundred years. You must carry your child to term eef we are to have hope for our future. Others may be able to have children."

"But to break the Laws —"

"— eez not the end of the world, Cherié. Everytheeng changes. We weel adapt. Our Laws must adapt."

"It's not that simple, Syblis, and you know it. No Healer has ever refused a calling. How do we change what we believe in? What we are? What we do?"

"I do not understand — what we do?"

"You know what I mean. Our gift comes from energy we steal from others. True, it isn't enough to do them harm, but that doesn't matter. We have an obligation to answer callings. I feel bad enough taking the extra I need to sustain my child. Having my Sisters carry the burden of my duties is... is... unfair."

"Do not Primeris and Seester Donnelle supply your needs now? Eef eet eezn't enough, you must let us know. We weel do what we have to in order to help."

"I'll help anyway I can," Jain piped in. "I'm not sure I fully understand what you're saying, but if it's a little jolt of energy, I've plenty to spare... and I know Solaria would also want to. Heck, I bet you can even steal a little jolt from Scootie. She's so full of energy, she can afford giving up a little."

"Thank you, Jain. Again we are een your debt," Syblis replied. "Please do as we ask, Chantelle. Geeve us the honor of serving you. We do eet weelingly and weeth great love."

Before Chantelle could reply, she felt a strong kick inside of her and grimaced.

"I don't think I have much choice," Chantelle said reluctantly, again rubbing her bulging belly. "It's all so strange."

"I can eemagine. Well, actually I can't, but I envy you." Syblis clapped her hands together like an excited child. "You are our first! Pregnant Seenger, I mean. Thees eez so wonderful."

"Will you be with me during the birthing? I'm not sure I can do this by myself," Chantelle confessed, giving Syblis a pleading puppy dog look.

"And since when have you been by yourself?" Jain interrupted, sounding indignant. "Primeris never lets you out of her sight. Healers have been with you off and on for months. Solaria had to make up a lie just so I could get you away from everyone. Can you imagine how hard that must have been for them... for Primeris?"

"I know. I feel guilty about that too. I'm surprised Primeris believed her."

"She didn't. I think she's trying very hard to absorb all of this," Jain said. "I have to admit she's been pretty patient, considering all of this must be completely illogical... especially the mood swings you've been going through lately," Jain teased.

Looking embarrassed, Chantelle gave a slight nod.

"Yes. I haven't exactly been the easiest person to live with. Still, I don't want anything to go wrong. I know my Sisters will help if there are complications, but they aren't you, Syblis. I need you more than you can ever imagine. Will you be at the birthing?"

"What a seelly question! Of course I weel be there. Everyone else, too, who can make eet. We weel seeng your pains away and greet your daughter een joyous harmony. Eet weel be beautiful."

Relieved, Chantelle relaxed.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. Now, tell me more about your Primeris. We know very leettle about her. She doesn't have a Number yet. Eet's probably too soon, but your Seesters are dying to know everytheeng they can."

"Everything? Well, first, I already know her Number. She's definitely a ONE!"

Syblis laughed.

"As are you. Maybe you shouldn't tell me everytheeng. I wouldn't mind a few juicy teedbeets to take back weeth me. You know how our Seesters love smut."

"I do know that. I'm not going to tell you everything... but... there is a reason why she's called Primeris." Chantelle leaned forward, motioning Jain and Syblis closer. "Her skills are unimaginable, and her tongue..." Chantelle began whispering, occasionally glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Jain's face turned bright red while Syblis blushed and put both her hands over her mouth to silence an involuntary gasp.

"Really? Oh my!" she exclaimed. "She can do that?"

Chantelle grinned and nodded. "Oh yes, and more. Fifteen times that night. I was exhausted."

"Poor you," Syblis teased. "Three was my max and eet took the woman almost seex hours of hard work to get me there." Shaking her head, Syblis tried to imagine fifteen. "The Seesters are never going to believe eet... ummm... maybe eef you tell us exactly what she did..."

And Chantelle did. Their exploits became legendary amongst the Singers.

*  *  *

I love dreams, Jain thought, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Especially the juicy ones. Rolling onto her back, she felt a lump next to her and stopped.

"Scootie, what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you the bed was off limits last night?"

"Rarawoof," came a muffled reply from under the blankets.

Sighing, Jain scratched the lump and then hugged it.

"I'm going to miss you," Jain said. "You'll be a lot safer with Primeris and Chantelle. I don't know what those people did to you, but they're going to want you back."

"Rararrrah woof!"

"Yes, you can come back and visit. Who knows? Maybe one day even stay."

"Rarrahh rrahhraah."

"Well, you know you're going to have a very important job. Their child is going to need someone to look after her. No matter how exceptional her moms are, they can't do it all by themselves."

"Wawwoof."

"Exactly. Now, how about you get some sleep. I'm exhausted."

Jain rolled onto her side and wiggled deeper into the bed.

I do so love dreams. Her arm curled around the warm body next to her.

"Are you okay?" a husky, sleepy voice asked.

"Perfect. I'm perfect," Jain replied happily.

"Not perfect, Cherié. Almost, though. Eet eez so much better that way. We both have sometheeng to work at, eh?"

"Most definitely." Jain grinned. "Most definitely."

"Then sleep, mon couer. There eez much time to make up for, oui? Een a few hours you weel need your energy." The implied threat didn't escape Jain and she smiled happily.

Only thing better than a dream is reality.

Epilogue

September 26, 2099

A LOUD WAIL filled the Eisriesenwelt Ice Caves and a cheer echoed through the empty caverns. Closed for the season, no one was present to hear the excited chatter of the women standing in a circle next to the small bonfire.

"Behold the first child born to the Seesterhood," Syblis announced, holding the infant high in the air. "She eez our future. Seeng! Seeng to her! Let her know she eez loved."

All twenty-one sisters raised their voices and sang, each in their own language, knowing it would add more strength to the energy they were sending to the child and mother.

Lowering the infant, Syblis nestled her against Chantelle's breasts and folded the blanket around both of them.

"You have done well, Cherié."

"We've done well," Chantelle corrected, looking past her friend to the mother of their daughter. "Thank you."

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Primeris gave a faint nod and then leaned forward to get a better look at the newborn infant. Dark, wavy hair covered the baby's head. For an instant she opened her eyes, giving Primeris a glimpse of the color... sparkling brown with gold flecks. Touching her cheek tentatively, Primeris looked proudly at her partner.

"What will we name her?" she asked.

"How about Primeris? After you."

"No, she deserves better. We'll name her after you."

"I don't think so. It would be too confusing."

Primeris and Chantelle looked at each other helplessly and then at Syblis hopefully.

"She weel not be named after me. Eet sounds too much like a disease. I do have a suggestion.... an old-time name we rarely hear anymore."

"What?" Chantelle asked, clutching her daughter tightly against her breast.

"Annabelle. Eet's believed to be Latin for 'lovable.' Look at her. Who can deny eet? She eez our future, our hopes, our dreams. She has a great destiny ahead of her."

"First, she'll have to get past the present," Primeris said. The infant suddenly let out a squall. "And so will we. I believe from the smell, she has expressed her opinion of her destiny quite well, don't you Scootie?" The dog had been conspicuously silent during the entire birthing.

"Aarr Rrharr Pfft!" Sniffing the air, Scootie sneezed, shook her head vigorously and stalked off. Laughing, the Singers moved in closer for a better look at the baby. Some saw hope for themselves in the child's face, while others silently mourned their own loss, knowing they were too old to bear children. All, however, rejoiced in the knowledge that there was, now, hope forevery Singer. And Scootie? Although she didn’t understand why, Scootie knew she had come home. Long, forgotten memories resurfaced. Her own mother and all the mothers before her carried the image of a moment in time when one of their ancestors lay curled on the lap of a human in these same caves.

*  *  *

Colonel Harlie looked at the hand-written note. Paper was rarely used anymore. Computers were faster, more efficient and environmentally friendly. Unfortunately, they were also vulnerable to hackers. The best way to insure security was by courier, especially Vitiate.

The Council had waited anxiously for word on Primeris and the Healer. The women had disappeared in Europe. Tracking them had been difficult, but not impossible. The Hubot was extremely good at hiding their movements and staying invisible.

Without the cloak, Harlie thought. What a waste of money that was. If it hadn't been for that dog, we'd have never discovered the design flaw. Who'd have thought uric acid would neutralize the chemical coating. Shaking her head in disbelief, she reread the message.

Mission accomplished. Subjects located in Austria. Female child born three days ago. She is perfect... perfectly normal. No further action needed.

Impossible.

End

About The Author

FRAN HECKROTTE lives in sunny South Carolina with her husband, three dogs, Boris, Skipper and Sophie, as well as the neighbor’s free-ranging chickens and peacock. Her life experiences include living in Alaska for three years, gold-panning, bull riding, scuba diving, flying, motorcycling, training gaited horses and more. After spending five years in law enforcement, she switched to construction and eventually opened her own property management company. She loves water gardening, going to the beach and photography. Favorite towns are South Beach and Montreal. Fran loves interacting with her readers and encourages them to email her at franheck@hotmail.com or chatting on IM.

Other Titles by This Author

The Illusionist (First in the Illusionist Series) Available in paperback, eBooks, audio

Summary

DAKOTA DEVEREAUX, an investigative journalist, is on a mission to uncover the secrets of Yemaya, the Illusionist. However, in her quest for an exposé on this mysterious woman, she uncovers more than she bargained for. Dakota is targeted by a power-hungry CEO, determined to learn the Illusionist's secret at all costs, and a madman intent on fulfilling his perverted fantasies.

From Moldova, land of the legendary werewolf, to Transylvania and the Carpathian Mountains, two souls must battle the dark forces of evil for their lives and their love.

*  *  *

Bloodlust (Second in the Illusionist Series) Available in paperback, eBooks, audio

Summary

YEMAYA AND DAKOTA have just returned to the Illusionist's homeland for a well-earned vacation when they are informed that several villagers had been savagely attacked and killed by something or someone. At the same time, a young Carpi woman is found lying unconscious near the outskirts of Teraclia. Comatose, she is unable to tell anyone what has happened and science can provide no answers. Two small wounds on her throat raise the old specter of the vampire, a legend the locals of the Transylvanian community are very familiar with and still believe in to this day.

The Illusionist and her partner search for the truth behind these attacks. Will they fall prey to this murderous bloodlust that surrounds them, or will they succeed in stopping this heinous reign of terror?

*  *  *

Lilith (Third in the Illusionist Series)

Summary

YEMAYA, the Illusionist, and her journalist partner, Dakota, find themselves embroiled in a search for the person responsible for the rape and torture of a young Carpi woman attending a university in the States. When they decide to visit a local nightclub for "women only," they find the owner and her employees unusual. Dakota feels mysteriously attracted to one of the clientele while Yemaya recognizes a kindred spirit in Lilith, the club's owner. Spiritual ancestors, missing whores, a sadistic exporter and new acquaintances lead the two lovers into an adventure of biblical proportion.

Lilith! She was a demoness, as old as humanity itself. Now, the owner of a "women only" nightclub and part owner of the Sisterhood, a small group of whores who have banned together to create a better life for themselves, it was her job to protect the women who were putting so much trust in her. When a local pimp decides to eliminate his competition, Lilith and her two demon partners want revenge, and no one knows better how to exact it than demons. This is a revelation of the past, the present and the events that forever changed the course of human history.

*  *  *

Les Gris, The Shadow People (Fourth in the Illusionist Series)

Summary

THEY WERE Les Gris, the Shadow People, and they are as much a part of us as we are them. As children we talked to them, played with them and disclosed our innermost fears, secrets and dreams; and they patiently listened, comforted and encouraged us. In time, though, most humans outgrew their imaginary friends and eventually forgot them. For those few who didn't, humanity's very existence would be determined by the strength of the bond between a small group of women and their life partners, the les gris.

*  *  *

Saira (Fifth in the Illusionist Series)

Summary

SAIRA WAS A TRAVELER. Even her name meant 'traveler.' Her entire existence was dedicated to making the journey to seek answers to the questions that plagued her. Sometimes she felt as if she were a pawn in a game she didn't understand, but knew her destiny was hers to decide. She chose to let the uncertainty of time make the decisions for her.

Unfortunately, her curiosity not only gets her into trouble but creates a series of events that affects not only the mortal world but the spirit world too. Yemaya, Dakota, Mari and Maopa will find their lives turned topsy-turvy and Saira will learn an emotion she had never experienced before... fear

*  *  *

Warrior Demoness (Sixth in the Illusionist Series)

Summary

SHE WAS SABNOCK, a demon, who, like the Phoenix, lived and died many times because she chose to live amongst mortals rather than spend eternity babysitting the legions of the Underlord. There were no longer battles to be fought in the Underworld so the ex-commander left her realm to live with the humans as a human. Falling in love, she now had to choose between her vow to live and die as a mortal or love and live as a demon, not knowing if her lover could accept the truth. The wrong decision would condemn her to a life of loneliness — and for a demon, life was eternity.

*  *  *

Solaria (Futuristic Science Fiction)

Summary

THE FIRST AWARENESS of existence was a chaotic flash of colors, meaningless and yet in an odd way logical; why, she wasn't sure. Birth is the most significant event in life, and yet it is never memorable — at least not for the newborn — but then she really wasn't a newborn, even though it was the first day of her life. She was 1A526, the first of her kind, an artificially intelligent blend of technology and bio-mechanics. Created to serve humans, Solaria and her AI programmer, Carley, soon discover the company funding the Hubot Project had more sinister motives. If Solaria were to fulfill the hopes of the woman who had given her existence meaning, she would have to become the human her programmer had dreamed of and take down Future Dynamicon, the company that created her.

Back Cover Summary

Future Perfect (Sequel to Solaria — Futuristic)

Summary

PRIMERIS WAS a Hubot, designed to serve humans. Her existence depended on her ability to complete her assignments... which she always did with a cold, emotionless detachment. Now, her perfect record was going to be tested to its limits. In her attempts to find and capture Solaria, another Hubot, Primeris is forced to either disobey her directive of obedience or become the human she never wanted to be.

The Order of the Healers was exactly that, healers. Their mission was to move humanity forward, even if it meant saving the worst of mankind. Chantelle is a Singer, a member of a small sub-group of Healers, whose latest calling takes her on a mission that will test her gift to its limit, and leave her wondering if her success will lead to humanity’s downfall.

*  *  *

Thank You for Purchasing and Reading
Future Perfect.

L-Book ePublisher, LLC

Table of Contents

Future Perfect

Prologue

Scootie The Early Years

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Primeris — First Mission

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

Chantelle

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

Book I Present Perfect

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

Book II Past Imperfect

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

Book III Perfect Future

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

Epilogue

About The Author

Other Titles by This Author

Back Cover Summary