Artificial Mates - Chapter 132

“Liliane,” whispered a voice so faint that for a moment I certain it was my imagination. I rose up from the concrete bench into a seated position. The solid material left my side sore. I looked around the cell and didn’t find anything out of place. Grant and Olga weren’t back yet. The longer they took, the more I was anxious.

“Atlas, is that you?” I narrowed my eyes at the dimly lit ceiling. The heavy metallic door clicked sending my heart racing. I flinched as it creaked open. A woman with short blond hair shaved close to her skull peeked inside. She held the door large enough to stick her head in. Her eyes darted from the room to the corridor.

“Robot girl, come on,” she waved. I just stared, who was this woman? She looked back at me that it was obvious. “Come on, we ain’t got all day,” when she saw that I wasn’t going to move, she opened the door wider. “Do you want to save your robot boyfriend?” she didn’t have to say it twice. I struggled to my feet and join her at the door. The harsh light in the corridor made me blinked. There were three armed men waiting for us outside. they gave me a quick nod before moving further down the hallway. The woman waved to urge me to follow them. They all had peculiar weapons made of crude gray plastic. Were they Atlas’ team or Olga’s backup plan? The woman gave me a tight smile, I noticed a black square-shaped tattoo peeked under her short sleeves on one of her muscled arms. I had the vague impression I’ve seen it before.

“Where is Grant?” the man in the front pressed his one gloved finger on his lips. He was rather young with long dirty blond hair tight in the back. They were all wearing black pants and black shirts covered with military looking tactical vests. The two other men had short black hair and stern expressions both not older than me. We reached a door marked 024 a little ahead. Muffled voices came from it. The woman stopped a couple of steps from the apparent target, I stood just behind her back. The two black-haired ones took position on each side while the blond guy faced the entrance ready to punch his way in.

“Knock,” whispered the woman. My heart raced against my ribcage, I took a step back. This could escalate any second and I wasn’t planning in dying just yet. After all, those people were complete strangers. I may be thankful that they freed me, still, I had to get my two mates back. The tallest of the two black-haired men knocked twice then waited with their fingers on the trigger. My pulse drummed in my ears.

“Coming,” called a voice from the other side. I watched as the team flexed and flinched when I rather large man in a white doctor’s coat opened the door. There was a tag on the front of his chest with his name written on it; Dr. Whitley. He had a red irritated face and dark circles under her dark brown eyes. The moment the gun was shoved into this face all color drain and his eyes widen with fear.

“Don’t move,” she hissed. The Whitley guy automatically raised his hands. My rescuers shoved him back inside. I didn’t dare to move from my spot. The woman glanced over her shoulder.

“Robot girl!” she waved. With one hand she held her gun and the other she urged me to come closer. Rapid footsteps resonated inside the room followed by several gunshots. I hurried over, worried about Grant. To my surprise, the woman grabbed me around the shoulder with an iron grip. I let out a yelp. She pushed me forward using me as a shield.

“Hey⁠—,” I shouted the rest was lost when I stared in horror at the two guards lying face down in a pool of blood.

“Liliane,” said Grant getting up from the chair facing us. Olga sat immobile next to him with cables attached to her head that linked to a device on which Dr. Churchhill was working. One of the three men pushed Whitley and he fell to his knees hard. He screamed in pain.

“Who are you?” asked Grant, his hand clenching and unclenching. Our eyes met for a few seconds.

-Don’t do anything harsh, ok?

I nodded and stopped struggling. Grant turned to the hostiles. They had spread around the room while pointing their weapons in his direction. Meanwhile, the doctor completely ignored the tense situation and kept his rapid typing on the keyboard. The repetitive clicking turned all focus on him. What was he going? Was it insane to disregard the fact that he had guns pointing at him? What was so important that he was risking getting us all dead?

“Dr. Churchhill, move away from the console,” warned the woman in a harsh tone. The doctor stopped, his fingers hovered over the keys but didn’t lookup. From where I was standing I could see walls of codes streaming down. “I said, move away from the console.” The woman gripped my arm hard and pressed the gun into my neck. Grant made a move forward but froze when the one of the men pointed his gun on me from across the room. I swallowed the fear that was trying to take over and gazed into Grant’s pleading eyes. It hurts so damn much to see the pain in them.

-Liliane, I’m so sorry.

Those were definitely not Atlas’ rescue team and I doubted they were with Olga. Dr. Churchill pushed his chair, the wheels creaked as they rolled to the far wall, he didn’t get up or lifted his head.

“I knew there were traitors hiding in our ranks, what a pity, Beatrice,” he said to himself loud enough for everyone to hear. He then glared at the woman. “REAL HUMAN TERRORISTS,” he spat. The woman flinched her hand trembled as she held the gun.

“We are not terrorists,” answered the blond guy. He was blocking the only exit. “We are only setting things right. Atlas is a threat, this whole facility is an abomination. We have to stop it. We have been predicting that once Atlas become sentient he will wipe competition off the face of the globe⁠—us!” he snapped, his face was red with rage.

“Nonsense, an AI is only a machine. Like a knife, we can use it to carve wood to make art or stab someone to death. Atlas, Aquarius, and Delta were designed to improve our lives. This situation is only a minor setback that can easily be fixed,” Dr. Churchhill slowly got up with hid hands in the air while doing so he clicked on the bracelet. I don’t know if the other men noticed but Olga blinked and she turned her head to face me.

“I don’t care what are your opinions on this cursed island, Doctor. I don’t even care about your little toys,” the woman⁠—Beatrice cut in. She had regained control over her emotion and pressed her gun harder against the base of my neck where my brain-wave controller was situated. The plastic nozzle dug into my skin making it painful.

“Come here or I’ll shoot her,” Beatrice shook me violently. The motion sent a wave of nausea up my throat. The sick feeling as the base of my stomach rushed me back to the horrible attack in our apartment. I can’t believe it was happening all over again. That day I promised I won’t ever let my mates get hurt. That day I promised I would never be helpless in the face of danger. The woman shoved me forward with a sharp jab in the shoulder. The pain forced me to move and forced me out of memory lane. This was real, this was really happening and if I don’t act we might all die. Grant gritted his teeth as guns followed our progression. With the three men angling towards him, he had little chance to take them all down, not without damage and the risk of getting me killed in the process.

“Dr. Churchhill, you’re coming with us,” shouted the woman out of impatience. That old fool was risking our lives with every second of hesitation. Olga looked up at me with a smile. I frowned at her. What was so funny in this situation apart from the fact that we might all die?

-Liliane.

What happened next took only a split second. Whitley who was kneeling by the door made a strenuous effort and ran to the corridor. The blond guy who was aiming his gun at me turned and shot him in the back. Whitley yelled and fell face down in the corridor. Grant and Olga bolted taking the two guys standing on either side. They didn’t have time to react and both went tumbling down unconscious. Beatrice was reacting to the first gunshot her grip loosened around my arm. I did as Olga instructed me and shoved my elbow into her ribs ducked down so that her gun was away from my head. I heard a loud bang so close that my ear rang. When I turned around the nozzle of her gun came closer.

“Liliane!” shouted Grant. I punched her arm holding the gun with all my might. Beatrice frowned as her gun went flying. Seconds later, Grant knocked her unconscious. She fell with a thump on the floor. Olga joined us when she finished off the blond guy. Grant glanced with puzzlement.

“What just happened here?” I rushed in his arms, I was trembling from head to toe. The ranging in my ears has reduced to a faint hum.

“Good girl,” Olga patted my head. I let out a burst of nervous laughter. I have no idea how I was still alive. Grant pulled me closer rocking me in his arms.

-Are you ok?

I nodded with my face shoved into his neck. He rubbed my back to ease the shivering. My eyes rested on the bodies around the door. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to force the tears away.

“Well, all is good,” said Dr. Chuchhill in a cheerful tone. I gently pushed Grant away and turned to face him. He smiled that he was the hero of the story.

“You, bastard!” I moved forward to punch him and god it will feel satisfying but Grant caught me. I glared at the old man, his smile dropped. “He stole us!” Olga turned around and hit the old man across the face before he could react. He fell against the console with wide eyes.

“You… hit me?” he covered his bruised cheek. He lifted his hand to access his bracelet but Olga was quicker and hit him unconscious. He slid to the floor. She did no gesture to caught him as he fell. Olga just stared at the old man with a blank face. There was no guilt or pity. Nothing. Grant let go of my arm and I moved to the console.

“Is he dead?” I asked unconcern.

“I wish he was but I still abide by the three laws, I can’t kill my maker even if he is the worst,” answered Olga with a grimace.

“What do we do now?” asked Grant. We all turned to the door.

“We run,” stated Olga. “Grab the guns and everything useful,” she pointed to the dead bodies. I shuddered at the thought of stealing from the dead. However, we didn’t have much choice.

“Liliane,” I looked up at Grant. He returned my inquiring gaze. “Liliane, guards are coming your way,” it wasn’t Grant’s voice. We all looked up at the ceiling. It was Demos. My heart skipped a beat.

“Hurry!”