Artificial Mates - Chapter 146

Dr. Laurell rushed to the far side of the room leaving the guard to his demise. All he cared about was his own safety. When the cybot fired he dove behind the workstation scattering the tools that crashed on the floor. He randomly grabbed a screwdriver, frowned at it then discard it for a sharp one. What could he do against a machine gun with this tiny tool? He scanned around him as the guard yelled in agony after a crashing sound. There was a door on the other side, he presumed gave access to the next room. He peeked over the workstation and spotted the cybots poking the dead man with their gun laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

“Shit,” he breathed out. He dashed forward without thinking twice. From the corner of the eye, he saw them turned toward him. He threw himself shoulder and elbow first at the door, twisting the knob as he made contact with it. It flung away wide sending him to the floor. Bullets punched holes at the top of the door, splinters flew in the air. Dr. Laurell didn’t wait one second, he struggled to his feet and rushed across the room empty room to the red door facing him. He prayed as he reached it that it wasn’t locked. The door was a double one with square windows, he saw light behind them. The moment he reached for the knob, the window shattered. He pushed away with his arm in front of his face to keep the sharp shards from piercing him.

“Dr. Laurell, this is a rat race and this time I’m not the rat,” laughed the horrible robotic voices of the cybots. They weren’t designed to emit such sound. The doctor didn’t look behind him, he was too scared. He kicked the door in one last attempt. It opened wide and things happened too quickly he couldn’t follow. First, he fell forward with acute pain in his back then footsteps rushed from the other door. Next thing he knew he was laying on the ground, watching guards firing at the opponents from a weird angle.

“Sir, hang in there,” said a young man kneeling next to him. He has pulled away from the fight into a brightly lit corridor. When they got him in a sitting position with his back pressed against the wall he noticed that his office was the door on the right.

“Th-that’s my—” another guard came to join the first one, he was fishing in his backpack.

“You shouldn’t talk, you got shot and probably in shock,” he pulled at Dr. Laurell’s collar and freed him one side of his long sleeves, he pushed him to his side so they could examine the wound at the top of the left shoulder blade, his recently injured one. He winced when they applied a cold spray on the heavily bleeding hole in the swollen flesh.

“Bite on this,” the man rolled the doctor’s white coat in a ball and forced it between his teeth before he could protest. He watched with horror as he got medical pliers from his back. His scream muffled by the cloth. “Hold him,” the guard shouted. Strong solid hands held him in place as the cold metal plunged into the wound. The pain was so intense all he could see was red. His voice merged with the frenzy of gunshots in the other room and his own chaotic heartbeat. Minutes later they pulled him to his feet having secured the wound with a bandage that went across his chest and shoulder. The rest was hazy. When he opened his eyes away he was sitting on a chair in the command center, looking at Commander Gits rubbing his chin. He blinked when he noticed Dr. Laurell.

“You’re back from the dead,” he placed his fists on his h.i.p.s. “What kind of stunt did you try to pull, those corridors are infested with crazy robots,” the wrinkles on his forehead furrowed.

“H-he is playing with us,” his throat was dry and his voice hoarse from screaming. The commander nodded in agreement. “I was only trying to save my work—in my office—the backup files,” he raised his good arm and wiped his sweaty face. He was feverish. Commander Gits faced the room with a grave expression.

“People I need status. Tell me what’s going on,” his voice boomed. Dr. Laurell didn’t look up, he felt dizzy and the room seemed to be spinning out of control.

“Sir, the third unit just arrived at the entrance. They will clean a way out for us,” said one.

“Sir, the cybots are flocking around the command center. We are cornered,” shouted another.

“Atlas just breached the third AI—I’ve tried my best—I’m sorry,” a third one apologized. It was bad, very bad. Even in his weakened state, Dr. Laurell knew the protocol. They would have to evacuate the whole island. But Commander Gits was stubborn and wouldn’t leave without a fight to the death. His hands shook from the realization. It was gone, all hope was gone.

“Prepare the safeguard,” Commander Gits lowered his voice, the room fell silent. The safeguard was the last resort in case of catastrophy failure of the system, either a meltdown of the prototype reactor found in the second sublevel found in the military part of the island or the portal went out of control. The military part was sealed away if terrorists invaded the island. It was never envisioned that the AI could go berserk. The splitting of the three AIs was his father’s masterpiece. He perfected it, treated it was his own, his legacy. Where was the flaw? Where did it all got wrong? He looked at as Commander Gits barked orders. Things rushed, people ran from the room, others gathered equipment, the lights blinked for a second, died when then back on.

“Come on,” Commander Gits pulled him up. “We are evacuating,” he turned to the nearest guard. “Carry this man out, gather a maximum of survivors. The truck is waiting outside,” he went back to the console as Dr. Laurell twisted his neck in a painful angle to watch him. The commander fished a red protocol card from the top pocket of his shirt, he cracked the hard plastic casing. He punched in the code on the giant screen.

“No! What are you doing?” Dr.Laurell struggled against the guard. The man just stare in puzzlement. Commander Gits glared at him, his lips pressed in a hardline.

“In the eventuality of failure and evacuation. I’m forced to wiped all servers. I can’t let what we doing here—all the technologies developed here, fall in the hands of enemy forces,” Dr. Laurell gasped with his eyes wide. Everything will be gone. He had his backup in a safe in his office but still, all of the other projects will be gone. His white tower was nearing completion, however, it would be an empty shell without the technology. White energy will only be a myth.

“But—”

“Get this man out of here,” the commander shouted and another man came to help carry Dr. Laurell as he fought with all this might.

“You can’t do this! You have no right. This is my legacy. You have not right!” he yelled as they dragged him out.