Spare Wheels
Sitting alone in the Foundation's mobile unit, Michael Knight stared at the empty maintenance bay before him. Kitt, his partner and friend of over three years, was undergoing a routine inspection in the garage with Bonnie Barstow and an army of technicians. Working with such advanced technology on a day to day basis, it was easy to forget just how much time, expertise and expense went into maintaining both the Knight 2000 and the onboard computer in control of the car. Although Michael was thankful for the molecular bonded shell that made Kitt virtually indestructible and the programming at the heart of his personality, the science of engineering and electronics meant little to him: all that mattered was the voice which had chided, corrected, cheered and supported Michael throughout their partnership.
"Michael?" Bonnie appeared in the connecting door at the front of the mobile unit, catching him by surprise. "What are you doing in here?" she asked, switching on more of the overhead spotlights.
Squinting against the artificial glare, Michael turned to her. Even in her practical dark blue jumpsuit, masking the accumulated dirt and grease from Kitt's more ordinary systems, and with her hair tied back into a ponytail, Bonnie Barstow was a welcome distraction.
"Trying to think," he confessed. "This was the only place I could find where I could be by myself for a while."
"That bad, is it?" She collected her laptop from the workbench. "Well, I've got to get back to the garage, so I'll see you later."
Her finger poised over the light switches, Bonnie turned to leave.
"Wait, Bonnie." Michael jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, don't go. How's Kitt?"
"Vocal," she said, rolling her eyes. "Why, what's wrong?"
"I'm starting to feel like a parent accused of favouritism," he confessed, shrugging sheepishly. "The two of them are driving me mad."
"Who?" she asked, trying not to laugh.
"Kitt and RC3. I can't win!"
Bonnie sank into one of the spare swivel chairs. "Why, have they fallen out?"
"No," he sighed, taking his seat in front of the console. "Not yet, anyway. You know how RC keeps asking to go out on the road with me?" Bonnie nodded. "Well, I've been trying my best to involve him, and Devon keeps him busy driving the mobile unit, but we can't keep putting him off indefinitely."
"And you don't want him along?"
"It's not RC, it's Kitt," Michael tried to explain, then shook his head. "No, that's not fair, either. It's not Kitt's fault. He doesn't see the need for an extra partner, and I can understand that – it's always been the two of us."
"But you can understand what RC is saying as well," Bonnie finished for him.
He gave a nod. "RC does need more to do than hanging around the office and driving the mobile unit, I know that – he was practically guarding his own neighbourhood single-handed, back in Chicago, and now he's a –"
"Knight Industries technician?"
Michael looked at her. "I didn't mean that, Bonnie. You know how much we depend on you." She lifted her eyebrows. "Hey, come on, Kitt would fall apart without you – probably thanks to me – and Devon runs the show, but what does RC do that any big rig driver or mechanic couldn't step in and take over?"
"So you think RC would be put to better use working with you, in the field?"
He shrugged. "A little manual back-up might be good. I'm getting too old for this."
"But?" she prompted him.
"But it has always been Kitt and me, and I don't want that to change, either. What do I do, Bonnie?"
"Talk to Kitt?" She saw him almost flinch at the suggestion. "Michael, I don't know. If extra back-up would take some of the pressure off for you, then tell Kitt that, he'll understand."
"Are we talking about the same Kitt here?" Michael demanded. "What am I supposed to say to him – 'Thanks for saving my life more times than I can count, and for all the damage and abuse you've taken on my behalf over the years, but how about if RC3 comes along for the ride from now on?' He'd never speak to me again, and I wouldn't blame him."
"Michael, he –" Bonnie swallowed her words. She doubted that Michael was ready, even now, to hear that Kitt loved him, and would do anything for his friend. "He cares about you. Working with you and keeping you safe is the whole reason for Kitt's existence. If he thought you were in danger, or pushing yourself too hard, there's no way he would refuse RC's help."
"I didn't say that," Michael objected. "I can fight my own battles, and Kitt has never put me in danger."
"Of course not," Bonnie agreed. "Well, then it sounds like what you need is a compromise. What if you were to train RC to be another operative? He learns from you and Kitt, and the three of you can work together without upsetting the balance of your partnership with Kitt."
"Maybe," he sighed, thinking about what he was going to say. "I don't want to hurt him, Bonnie."
She stared at him, surprised by the honesty and depth of his compassion.
"Then talk to him." Bonnie got to her feet. "In fact, why don't you come to the garage with me now? Tell him you'll treat him to a car wash after his 'ordeal' is over, like you used to do." He looked up at her. "Trust me on this."
xxxXXxxx
In maintenance bay three of the Knight Industries research and development complex, Kitt was spinning his wheels, literally. He was being put through yet another embarrassing process, which involved being strapped down with his hood up and an exhaust extractor fixed to his tailpipe. Kitt raced until his engine screamed, his rear wheels a furious blur behind wire guards, but the chassis dynamometer held him firmly in place. System purges were inelegant, gas analysers were intrusive, but driving without moving was the ultimate torment.
Richard Wheeler, his primary automotive technician, was standing next to an industrial fan directed at Kitt's nose. RC3 was with him, checking the reams of printed graphs and numbers issuing from the computer. The new member of the team had been there all morning, adding to Kitt's humiliation, but nobody had thought to seek consent from the 'test subject'. Richard and Bonnie always worked with a team of technicians and mechanics, so why should one more eager assistant make a difference? RC3 had proved his worth in Chicago, helping to rebuild the Knight 2000, and the Foundation owed him a promotion. There was no reason for Kitt to object, apart from his pride, but he still blamed RC3 for intruding.
And then Bonnie returned, bringing Michael with her, and his mortification was complete.
"How's everything going, guys?" she called over the din.
"I've had better mornings, Bonnie," Kitt grumbled under cover of his own engine, "thank you for asking."
Technician and driver joined the viewing gallery by the fan, and RC3 greeted Michael with his partner's familiar hand gesture, raising one thumb in approval.
"Oh, stop that," the AI snapped. "Who do you think you are – Michael Knight?"
Right on time, Richard held up his palm in front of the scanner grille. That was Kitt's signal to release the throttle, letting his wheels coast to a stop on the rolling drums while the dyno calculated the car's vital statistics of torque and horsepower. Anxious to escape the torture track, Kitt all but stalled his engine. When the tachometer hit a leisurely revolution speed, he applied his brakes and brought the infernal machine to a dead stop.
"Excellent, Kitt," Richard reported. "Ignition off."
Michael came forward, peering under Kitt's hood at the leads connected to various points on his heated engine. Kitt was waiting for his partner to ask how 'the patient' was doing, relying on Michael to treat him more like a friend than a science experiment.
"Hey, RC," he heard instead, "how about testing that machine of yours next?"
"I don't need no fancy treadmill to tell me what my wheels can do, Michael," RC shot back.
"Richard, if you have the data you need, could you disconnect Kitt, please?" Bonnie asked, handing him the laptop fetched from the mobile unit. "I want to put him through his paces at the test track."
"The test track, Bonnie?" Kitt echoed, confused. The track run ordinarily came at the end of his inspection, but he knew there was still a whole battery of tedious and inconvenient tests to perform in the garage.
"Oh – kay," said Richard, sounding equally unsure.
"I know how you hate the dyno, Kitt," Bonnie told him, busying herself under the hood. "So I thought you'd like to go for a real spin next. Richard can check your brakes and suspension later."
"An excellent idea, Bonnie," Kitt readily agreed. "Thank you."
"That's OK, Kitt," she said with a smile. "Michael, why don't you take Kitt to the track?"
Leaving Richard to unclip the rest of the alligator clamps around Kitt's engine, Bonnie turned to speak to Michael. "I said, why don't you go with Kitt to the track? Pretend you're Rick Mears in the Indy 500, or something."
"Rick Mears?" Michael laughed, looking at RC3. "You're a year out, Bon."
"Michael," Bonnie snapped. "Are you going or not? I thought you could keep Kitt company."
"Hey, I'll go, Bonnie," RC3 volunteered.
"No!" Bonnie shot him down, a little too forcefully. "Sorry, RC. Thanks, but I'd like you to stay here and help Richard set up for the checks this afternoon, if that's OK?"
"Sure," he shrugged. "Looks like you get to be Rick Mears, Mike."
"Yeah, great, RC," Michael joked, staring at Bonnie. "Can I meet up with you and Kitt later, Bonnie? I need to talk to Devon first."
"Well –"
The hesitation in his partner's voice, and that sidelong glance at RC3, told Kitt exactly how the situation stood between them. Michael no longer wanted to spend his limited free time sitting in the same cramped driver's seat that had also been his transport, office and second home for three long years, and Kitt could hardly blame him. He appreciated Bonnie's considerate suggestion for a mid-inspection break, but would not force Michael to go through the motions along with him.
"There's really no need for you to be there, Michael," Kitt announced, excusing him. "I am supposed to run the course by myself anyway."
Michael looked over Bonnie's shoulder at his empty seat in the car. "Kitt, I would love to be there, pal," he promised, watching Richard move around to release the rear wheels. "I just need to check with Devon about – something – and then I'll join you at the starting line."
"OK, Kitt, you're good to go," Richard announced. "Don't forget to come back."
Kitt decided what he would do. In the driverless cabin, the engine activation sequence above the steering column flashed through the four stages from 'Power' to 'Ignitors', and the car fired into life. Bonnie moved away from Kitt's front wheels at the same time that the high whine of his turbines pierced the air.
Richard, RC3, Michael and Bonnie stood back to watch the sleek machine roll backwards down the rear ramps of the dynamometer, the swirling scanner track tilting up with the nose until all four wheels were back on the concrete floor.
"Don't take too long, Michael," Bonnie warned, moving towards the car.
Kitt backed away, reversing towards the open door. "I'm sorry, Bonnie," he said.
Constantly alert to the safety of others, Kitt scanned in every direction before powering backwards out of the garage and onto the forecourt, where he executed a J-turn he knew his partner would probably envy. He needed to drive away from Michael before Michael walked away from him.
Racing away, in the opposite direction to the test track, Kitt listened to them calling his name until he reached the limits of his external audio sensors. Then he knew he was alone.
xxxXXxxx
"He's not there?" Michael demanded.
Shaking his head, Richard jogged back over to the small group clustered around the empty maintenance bay. "Nothing on the cameras," he panted. "Anyway, he was heading the wrong way for the track."
"Bonnie?"
"Wait a second," the chief technician said, tapping furiously into her laptop.
"Try the comlink again," RC suggested.
"He's receiving, he's just not answering," Michael told him, turning his wrist to check the flashing LED signal on his customised watch.
"Man, what made him flip out like that?" RC wondered aloud. "I know Bonnie said he hates being poked and prodded, but to just race off by himself?"
"He's been moody all morning," Richard shrugged dismissively.
"Got him!" Bonnie sang out. "The signal's really strong, he must still be on the grounds –"She started laughing. "Oh, Michael, you're going to love this!"
"What? Where is he?"
"Where I found you brooding about half an hour ago," she grinned. "Like driver, like car, I guess."
"He's in the mobile unit?" Michael filled in, disbelieving.
"Hiding in plain sight," RC said, nodding in approval. "I dig his style."
With a sigh, Michael headed for the door, following Kitt's tyre marks on the concrete. "This has gone far enough," he called over his shoulder.
The FLAG mobile unit was parked up near the gates of the rear drive, to allow Kitt extra space for manoeuvring on the forecourt outside the garage. A good five minute walk in the high midday sun, Michael grudgingly started back in that direction. He reached for the transmit button on his comlink, automatically bringing his wrist up to speak, but thought better of announcing his arrival. Warning Kitt would probably send him speeding off to find a new hidey-hole further away.
Was RC3 really the problem, Michael thought to himself, or had Kitt always been so possessive of the man he was programmed to protect? They were all sadly aware that Kitt was no longer the eager and generally compliant personality that Devon had first introduced to Michael; Bonnie's AI had learned, no doubt from 'the nut behind the wheel', to be wary and increasingly defiant over the years. Though proud of Kitt's development in one way, Michael sometimes wished he could go back and try to preserve that initial innocence by treating his partner better and having a greater appreciation of his own role in Kitt's evolution. Perhaps if he had spent less time during that first year telling the computer to 'shut up', not understanding that Kitt's synthesised voice was the only way he could express the feelings he always insisted he didn't have, then Kitt might not be quite so sensitive now.
Generally, though, they shared a strong, if complicated, friendship, which had survived romance (Michael), reprogramming (Kitt), memory loss (Michael and Kitt), overwork, injury and even destruction. Surely one new team member wasn't enough to upset the balance?
The trailer was locked up tight, but Michael knew that Kitt could activate the doors and ramp on his own. Moving along the shaded side of the semi, Michael clambered up the rig to unlatch the side door and then pulled himself into the kitchenette area.
"There you are," he told the distant outline of the Knight 2000, before flicking on the overhead lighting.
Kitt's scanner pulsed from left to right in a perfunctory sweep of the mobile unit.
"Hello, Michael," he greeted his friend flatly.
"Bonnie sent me to bring you back," Michael said, leaning against the door frame. "She says you're grounded for a month."
"I suspect that Devon would likely object to such deliberate inefficiency, but RC3 might loan you his 'wheels' if you ask nicely," Kitt retorted.
"Kitt, I was joking!" Michael gave an exasperated sigh. "What's gotten into you lately?"
"Michael, are we still partners?"
The frank question staggered Michael slightly, but then Kitt was never one for mincing words. "Last time I checked, buddy," he answered casually. "Why, have you had a better offer?"
"No. Have you?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "Look, I know this is about RC, Kitt," he said, stepping down into the carpeted office area.
Despite the swirling red beam of the scanner, Michael kept his eyes fixed on the windshield, where he knew Kitt would be watching him from one of the various cameras in the cabin. Rather than registering on a sensor array, he wanted Kitt to 'see' him and read his body language while they talked.
"I'm sorry if you feel he's been getting in the way recently, but Devon wants me – us – to train RC as a second operative for FLAG," Michael explained, hoping that Devon would also be receptive to the idea when he found out. "Nobody is being replaced, Kitt – not me, and certainly not you."
"You're training RC3?"
Michael perched on the highest point of Kitt's hood. "Yeah, that's why I've been involving him in more cases, so he can get a better idea of what we do."
"Of what you do," Kitt corrected him. "Or is Bonnie going to install a computer in that ramshackle motorcycle of his next?"
"Now there's an idea!" Michael laughed. "OK, so RC won't be able to Turbo boost or reach 300 miles an hour, but he's young and bright and he can take care of himself. Let's give him a chance, Kitt."
The computer was relatively slow to respond, which could mean anything. Michael waited, resting one hand on the hood scoop.
"Does this mean RC will be spending less time in the garage?"
"What, now you don't want him to be a mechanic?" Michael groaned. "Kitt, he helped put you back together in Chicago!"
"I remember," Kitt conceded the point. "Michael, I have nothing against RC personally, but I hate the idea that – well, that I'm no longer up to the job of protecting you."
"Kitt, are you jealous?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Michael," Kitt scoffed. "I am a highly advanced, state of the art microprocessor programmed with artificial intelligence, installed within a virtually indestructible –"
"In other words," Michael cut in with a smile, "you're jealous."
"I am not," Kitt insisted. "But taking on another partner is not easy for me, Michael. I was programmed to work with you, if you recall."
Knowing that Kitt was there for him, and him alone, had held Michael together in both body and mind for three years. His trust and affection for his partner had long since surpassed the bond of man and machine envisioned by Wilton Knight. Kitt was far more to Michael than just a state of the art computer inside a bulletproof shell; the intelligence might be artificial, but the heart of the machine was not.
"I recall," he said. "Kitt, we're partners, but we're also part of a team – you, me, Devon, Bonnie and now RC. That can only make us stronger, right?"
"I suppose so."
Michael slowly shook his head; that was close enough, coming from Kitt.
"Are we back on track?" he asked.
"We are," Kitt confirmed. "Thank you, Michael."
"Good. Now knock yourself out of paranoia mode and let's get out to the track."
Hearing the musical tones that heralded the ignition of the car's engine, Michael scooted round to the driver's side and dropped into his seat before his partner could put the transmission in 'Drive'. There was no way he was going to let Kitt leave without him this time.
FIN