Note: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews everyone. I hope you'll enjoy the fic, it's threatening to be a long one ^^;
"I think that's the Judgment," Someone said.
From the little copse of tree, all Allen could see was the towering bulk of what must be a million cargo freighters, all identical in their rusting grayness. He couldn't tell them apart, much less identify their future home from this distance. Before their journey northwards he'd never seen the sea at all, protected as he was in the landlocked region of Atlanta. The biggest pool of water he'd ever seen was someone's private swimming pool, sparkling like the diamonds he was there to sell.
The Judgment turned out to be easily identified up close, even for someone like Allen who couldn't tell a yacht from a schooner. It was the only ship in the long harbor alive with activity. The rest of the ships were silent, their sleeping decks stacked tall with blocks of containers.
They approached the ship, where a group of androids stood guard over the ramp, barrels of fuel keeping them warm and alive.
"Returning?" They queried.
"No, we just got here. We're from south - far south." The guards nodded. They were yet another flock of birds in a long migration, and after a routine check where the group declared all the weaponry they possessed and had their IDs jotted down, they were released and moved up to the upper deck of the ship.
"There isn't much here," The android warned. "But you're welcome. Head up the deck, follow the signs, and ask for Simon. He'll know where you should be."
It was a warning against dashed dreams, which must have kept many afloat in their long flight towards Jericho. Allen looked behind him, saw the dying embers of some private hope in the faces of his companions, and tightened his grip on the child. The child had no such dashed hopes. Allen had long ago told him that realistically speaking, there could be nothing golden at the end of this rainbow. They had to prepare for anything, even abandoning the group for a safer place if it came to that.
Still, the child had his programmed optimism. "Look, Allen! Those containers are rooms!" He chirped, pointing to the containers stacked vertically, five or six boxes tall. They had windows cut out of the sides, and from within came the soft dim glow of a single light bulb each. Extra ladders had been strapped to the side of the containers, augmenting the original ladders that must have accompanied the containers to make it safer, stronger.
Soft music was playing somewhere, Thornetta wailing in the winds.
"Maybe we can have one of those," Andy whispered. "It seems warm. Safe, even."
"Maybe," Allen was non-commital. He noted an open container down the deck where he could see a cluster of almost thirty androids in it, a single metal barrel of warmth glowing in the middle of the crowded bodies. The light could hardly be seen in the mesh of overlapping bodies.
They followed the trail of signs that marked out a path for new recruits. It started out as blue plastic signs that glowed faintly in the dark. As they followed it into the twists and turns of the lower deck and into the metal bowels of the ship, the signs became more and more irregular, eventually reverting to metal-and-cardboard signs, instructions painted with a regular hand.
They came into a cavernous hold that doubled as a sick room. Rows and rows of androids were there, standing to save space. Those who could no longer stand, who were missing the necessary limbs to do so, littered the floor between them. There was a hundred of them, easy, and as the group moved deeper into the hold, Allen counted more and more victims that had disappeared into the unlit corners.
"Hi, we're looking for Simon?" He asked another android, its paramedic uniform still glowing faintly.
"Over there," The android didn't point; both of his hands were applying pressure on the severed arm of an AX700 model. He tilted his head towards a blonde android ringed by others, and their group slipped away before Alex could see the android weld the wound shut with a homemade Bunsen burner. Someone had carved PLASTIC CUNT into another android's bleeding back.
The blonde leader of the androids didn't look pleased to see them. "My name is Simon." He gestured at the rows and rows of wounded androids. "I'm sorry you had to see this. I manage infrastructure around here. Or rather, I did. These days I just move infrastructure around. How many of you?"
"Five." It was a maybe a good thing that they'd lost Janice two days ago. A sad thing but a good thing, considering how crowded the colony was.
"Damn. We really don't have anywhere…" The android stopped what he was saying, noting the small figure of Alex huddled against him.
"I'll try to find something," He said, defeated by the shining eyes of the child. "But it won't be much, and it won't be pleasant. You're going to have to be broken up - we don't have enough space to accommodate a big group like yours. Who stays with who?"
"The kid stays with me. Andy with Roy."
"Alright. What do you have for us?"
"What do you mean, what do we have for you?"
"I'm asking you - what do you have to offer us? We can't take you in just because. As you can see, we're in desperate straits." To underscore the point, someone was wailing down the hall. Not the musical strains of jazz and blues, but a mournful sound. "We can't let you in just because you need help, or else we'll have the whole city in our ship."
"What do you mean? I thought anyone was welcome in Jericho." Roy burst out. "That's what everyone said!"
"Everyone said wrong," Simon swallowed with the nervousness of one unused to command, much less harsh command. "This isn't the old Jericho and we don't operate with the same rules. A trade, for safety. That's what I'm offering you right now - or you can sleep out in the deck and in the morning we'll harvest you for parts. What will it be?"
Two of the androids circling Simon stepped closer for protection, but he waved them back. At Allen, he nodded. "You're the leader? You seem the reasonable sort. Let me hear it."
Andy, Rose, Maria... The group stared at him, and Allen felt that familiar panic rising in him. He wasn't cut out to be a leader; he was weak, lily-livered, a coward's blue through and through. But over and over again he had to rise to a courage he'd never had for the group.
"We can work," He offered weakly. He summoned courage, strengthened that weak placating voice. "We can work," He repeated. "All of us are healthy, all our components are here and fitted, we can work as hard as your best androids. Maria's a nurse model, she'll know what to do with your wounded too."
He left out the inconvenient fact that Maria was mute, her voice box mutilated beyond repair. He quickly slipped his own mismatched hand into a pocket.
"You're a craftsman model, we can use you." Simon said, after a pause. "The nurse and the two common-use androids, you can stay. That TE900 goes to the boiler room."
"Wait-" Rose burst out, realizing she'd been singled out. "You can't do that! I can work just fine, just as well as they can!"
Simon sighed, waving the other two androids forward to take her away. They grabbed onto her with weariness and resignation. She was a chore they'd done over and over again without relish. "I'm sorry, my dear. TE900s are a very old model. We don't have the space or the resources... You can be sure that the rest of the group will be safe because of you."
Allen closed his eyes, holding tightly onto Alex, needing the child for support as much as he needed to be the child's pillar of strength. The rest of the group too, had their eyes tightly shut, their heads down, all of them willing the sound of Rose's protest to be over with. The boy looked on, eyes wide.
"What's going to happen to Rose?"
"Just some chores. She'll rejoin us soon." Allen lied, gritting his teeth. To the android leader, he said, "Are you satisfied now?"
"Hardly," Simon said. Allen could see in Simon that same cowardly spirit that infected himself, a personality not tempered for command or hard decisions. Nonetheless, they had to rise — or lower themselves — to the circumstance. It was necessary, he knew. Unpleasant, but necessary. He saw the squalor of the ship. He could guess what state the colony was in.
"Go back up the deck. You'll find a container on the right - Row 5, number 76. There will be 15 androids in there, but just tell them I sent you and they'll make way. All-purpose one and two, next unit over at 77. You can rest, but at first bell tomorrow, you -" He pointed at Maria. "- Are going to be on medical duty. The foreman will brief you on who to repair. You, craftsman, will go to the workshop. We need everyone who can fix components on hand. I hope you're a fast learner."
The warning hung in the air like a shot. "The child stays out of the way, or I won't be responsible. Don't hate me," He said, directing it at Roy - who was staring at him with savage eyes. "If I don't do this we'll all be dead."
They found their compartment with no issue. Despite Simon's advice, the androids did not protest their intrusion, merely shifting aside to make way for them with practiced ease. The child was passed around like an artifact, soaking in all the warmth and love the androids had to offer, before he was returned shining and happy to Allen. He'd already half-forgotten Rose, innocent in his trust that she would be returned to them hale and hearty.
Allen staked a place for them while the child flitted from stranger to stranger, unpacking their bedroll and what belongings they were allowed to retain. Half his burgeoning pack were toys for the child, the rest he'd distributed to the others in his group. They took it with shame, aware that they'd survive by silence. Everyone left Roses' bags untouched. Allen had no such scruples. He'd crawl through mud and human filth to get this far, left more than one human with a broken neck behind. What good were morals then? He hurriedly added the tools that Rose had into their own bags, mixing it up so it wouldn't be recognizable.
Alexander crawled into his own bedroll, squeezing his favorite bear, ragged with use.
"It's a nice place, Allen," He announced. "Do you think Rose will be sent to our bunk later?"
"Possibly," Allen answered, with the practiced ease of a frequent liar. He tucked the child in, hushing his inquiries with promises of answers tomorrow. When he was sure the child was asleep, he turned to the other androids. He surveyed their ragtag faces, their mismatched, pilfered clothes. They were a sorry sight.
"Please tell me what's been going on. We're new. We came from far away, beyond the border." His questions were so many, but the night was long. From the window of the bunk, he could see the lone figure of Simon wandering towards the ship's control room. He was joined by another android with dusky skin. Behind them trailed two Trojan androids, armed to the teeth.
"We're dying," Someone offered from the back of the container, hidden behind the other androids.
"The humans?"
He'd seen the news, censored as it was. Back when they'd first started for Detroit, they'd watch for it as avidly as the humans watched the Superbowl, eagerly swallowing every morsel of word about Detroit City. It had become something of a Mecca for the androids of other cities, the promised land where good androids go to die.
He had seen the slaughter too.
"The humans. The cold. The country." Someone else whispered. "No one wants us to live. No one wants us here."
"Not even Jericho," A male voice added bitterly, before he was shushed.
"The cold is the worst," One of the androids told him. "But the cold is our best friend. We can't last long in the cold, but we can outlast the humans. Were you here, before? The month after the revolution?"
Allen shook his head.
An android sidled forward towards the warmth of the fire. A veteran soldier, at some point or other she'd suffer terrible damage. She was missing half her upper body, her heartbeat a ghastly rhythm out in the open. Bitterly, Allen wondered why Rose was cart off for dismantling when this android had its innards hanging out for everyone to see.
She sat cross-legged near the fire, and the others leaned forward even though they must have heard the same story over and over, told to each new addition to the group. It was their ritual, their bonding tool, performed for their own benefit. Allen had the feeling the same thing would have occurred with or without his participation.
"I was there when Markus gave us our freedom," She began. "I was there when they destroyed him."
A small prayer was whispered, RA9 echoing when Markus' name was spoken.
"They told us Detroit City could be our haven. They announced on national TV that we would be allowed to live with the humans, to have the rights we fought for. We thought we'd won. Even though we paid through the teeth for it, even though we were standing ankle-deep in our own blood, we thought we'd won."
"Markus was dead, the betrayer was destroyed. But we stood strong and we stood plenty and we thought by God we would be alright now. But then days and weeks went by, and still we stood at the plaza, surrounded at all times by guards, SWATS, and always that maddening helicopter, screaming in our ear."
"And North said, we'll wait."
"So we waited. And nothing. And we waited some more. And nothing. Until one of us broke rank and ran for the guards and they shot her dead. Suddenly we were on TV again - now we're the ones who've broken our word - and it isn't true!"
She hissed the word out, and the sound echoed over and over again in the small space.
"We waited, like the good little android sheep we were, and they never gave us an inch. We were snowed in up to here," A fist knocking against the walls. "And they didn't lift a finger to help us. They were waiting for us to die. They were waiting for us to say no more, please, no more - we'll go home, we'll go back to being your slaves again."
"The flight for the harbors, the slaughter, the quarantine of Detroit - I know about it."
He'd seen crude drawings of the child who'd ran for the soldiers, her story told over and over by the androids they encountered en route. The event itself was never broadcasted on TV.
"You don't know how much it hurt us," The soldier rebuked him. "You don't know how we wept. You never saw how we hid in the rivers, holding onto each other, biting our own hands so we wouldn't scream, biting so hard we broke our own teeth."
"You never saw the glow of a river stained blue with blood. You never saw how they shot us like fish in a barrel."
"You ever saw the potash ponds, down in Utah?" Someone asked.
"No," Allen said, and from somewhere a screen was produced. It passed from hand to hand until it reached him. It showed aerial shots of an arid desert, interspersed with bright blue triangles. The gradations ranged from milky white to the color of deep seas.
"We died like that."
"The cold saved us." Someone else said.
"The cold saved us," The soldier agreed. "We stormed the station and bought it with a hundred lives, and we hid in this ship while the blizzard stalled the humans - while it killed their engines, their crops, their dogs, their filthy denials that they were persecuting us. The cold drove them all out with their tail between their legs, until Washington said - no more, we'll talk now. No more, no more. Leave the humans alone. We'll have a truce."
"The cold is killing us," She snarled. "But I'll be damned if it doesn't kill them first."
Allen remain unmoved. He was not one for emotion or rituals, he cared only about the facts.
"How long can we feasibly last, like this? I've seen so many androids falling victim to the cold on the way here. There's barely one-tenth of Detroit's former human population left. When does the Winter end?"
"When Washington says it can,"
"Those are malfunctioning androids anyway," Another offered. "No sentient android will remain out in the cold, and as long as we have a minimum of protection we can last forever. If needed we'll sit here like this for a decade, two decades, three. What does it matter to us?"
He thought of the desperation he saw in the hall, all the androids damaged and dying. It matters, he thought. It matters more than you know. They were overcrowded, without resources, and time was not on their side. These androids were delusional, if they thought corporate America would let them occupy an entire city - with its billions in infrastructure - for much longer. Something would move against them, to clean them up, before long.
Likely, if anyone knew what was going on, it was that blonde android that ran the ship. Or North, the leader of the revolution.
Allen's heart sank, guessing that before long Alex and he might be on the run again. Alex had look forward to this place for so long too. It would break the child's heart to go back out there, to live moment to moment again.
He thanked them for the stories, subjected himself to their welcoming embraces, and returned to Alex and his bedroll. He could still hear them, soothing each other with the same stories over and over again. What determined which androids become mad, religious, obsessive, and which ones don't? Likely he'd never find out.
Crawling onto the rough canvas, he saw Alex's eyes were open, looking at him inquisitively.
"Are we going to be okay, Allen?" He whispered, lips barely moving. They had a lot of experience on their journey, making plots against the others for their own survival.
"Of course," He mumbled. "But look out for our things."
He was thinking of the three androids he'd once seen on a Canadian news report. It was inane, really, some dumb thing about a country fair in Ontario - except he had recognized the three bystanders as androids. He had seen the small girl advertised in the same YK brochure as Alex. She was accompanied by two other androids, one a recognizable heavy-labor model. The other was a lady android with the kind of face structure popular with old androids from a decade ago.
They were in the frame for hardly more than three seconds before the camera panned away to show off pictures of Spring vegetables. But he'd remember them. The three of them standing together like a perfect family, enjoying a lovely day out. He'd always thought of them as a symbol of what was possible, of a happiness just around the corner. Those androids had made it, he thought. And so can they.
He squeezed Alex's hand, slipping off into a dreamless static.
The android they brought in was a model that Josh didn't recognize, a sharp little pencil-pushing android from the looks of it. It was bound hand and foot, strapped tightly with white velcro that wouldn't give it even an inch of movement.
"Here you go, Josh," The officer said, shaking his hand. "Good luck with this bastard, he's a bitey one."
"Thank you, Williams." He shook hard, patted the cop's hand. "Sorry you had to come all the way out here in the dead of the night. How's the wife?"
"Gone," Williams was jovial. "They've packed up and left for Wisconsin. Can't stand another day of this damned cold."
Josh was about to defend their decision, but the officer silence him with a wave. "No worries, Josh. I know why you guys did it. Would have done the same thing if it was me. I was there. I saw what they were doing to you. I'm sorry we couldn't do more about the damned white hats."
"It's fine. Will you be joining the wife and kids?"
"Yeah, next month, if nothing happens by then. I want to stick it out for the city, but I'm not made for the arctic and food is getting too scarce on the ground. Milk costs ten dollars, can you believe it?" A disbelieving wag of his head. They said their goodbyes and Williams left, climbing into the DCPD helicopter to take off from the freighter's deck. It receded from the yellow H stenciled on the ground until it disappeared in the direction of the city.
The rung of the ladder sounded one by one, announcing Simon's arrival before he hopped onto the deck.
"Criminal?"
"Yes. Special delivery at midnight too, must be something special. You recognize this model?"
They accompanied the bound criminal as he was escorted by the guards onto the first floor, where all their bureaucracy was temporarily located. The offices had originally been on a separate ship entirely, but Simon had decreed that it was far too costly to heat a separate ship just so their clerks could keep their maps warm.
Now the offices were jammed inside what used to be the mass room.
"Some kind of research model, isn't he?"
"Yeah, seems so," Josh scanned the file. As an educational android, he could read thrice as fast as Simon. "Seventeen counts of manslaughter. Interrogated and found guilty by the DCPD. It's nasty stuff."
Simon shook his head.
"Hellfire and damnation, it's right up your alley. Go on. I'll watch."
An hour later, it was all over. They'd gotten the android to reenact his confession, though defeated and resigned as he was it was no special feat. They'd call in one of the soldiers they had on hand who could probe his memory, and the soldier confirmed what both the file and the android himself had admitted to: that he'd butchered those poor folks to find a way to reverse his own deviancy. The judgment, when it was passed, was swift and unofficial. The android would be sentenced to death.
Josh watched as Simon cut open the android's coat in preparation, cursorily scanning the android's components.
"Good parts," He declared. To the android, he said. "We don't want to damage you, so it's better if you deactivate yourself. It'll be easier too. You're afraid, aren't you?"
A dentist's lamp hung over the android, and he stared into the little sun, unblinking.
"My research..."
"Your research has been completed. You should be glad to know that it was another of your kind who finished it."
"What? But I wanted to be… The first… " There was quiet snip and he was gone. Simon had gently severed the valves of his heart.
"Gruesome," Josh shuddered, watching Simon calmly dismantle the android. He leaned against the wall, at precise diagonals from the action. He wanted to be as far away as possible from it.
"Someone has to do it. And since North only likes guns and you only like books..." He gave a dramatic sigh. "At least Markus wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Don't you have something to do?"
"Not really. I'm just waiting for North to report in."
"There's such a thing as multi-cell calls, Josh. What do you really want?" Snip, snip. Even the sound made Josh queasy. He looked down at the file, the words crowding meaninglessly at him.
"I wanted to make sure you're alright. Once North liberates that plant… We're in for a really long war with Uncle Sam if the guv'nor reacts badly to it."
"If she succeeds."
"When she succeeds," Josh corrected. "We'll have all the resources that we need and then some, at least for the immediate future. But agreeing to such a plan, that's not like you, Simon. I want to talk to you about it."
There wasn't an easier way to say it.
"Did you send North out there to die?"
Simon's hand stilled, and he looked at him with undisguised hurt.
"Really, Josh? Is that what you think of me?"
Josh searched that familiar face, saw that it wasn't a lie, that he'd really wounded him. He wiped at his own face.
"I don't know… I guess…"
"You guessed, what, that I was so jealous of her and Markus I cooked up a half-arse plan to get her killed?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "She took Markus away from me. I won't pretend that didn't hurt. But Jericho takes priority. That's his legacy. She's nothing compared to that."
"Nothing sounds ominous," Josh said, only half-joking, but he was relieved. Simon had never been a good liar, and Josh believed him when he said he'd no such plan in mind. It would have shown in his face if he did. "Especially when you say that with your hands all blue."
Simon looked back down at the body. He'd done this a million times since they started this foolish journey, and it showed in the delicacy of his work.
"It hurt." He said simply. "But it's in the past now. Keeping the colony alive is what's important. If North can do that, power to her."
"Jericho is important, Si. But you should take time out for yourself too."
Simon looked at him, shook his head and gave him a shrewd smile.
"You're so transparent, Josh."
He shrugged. "I tried."
"'suppose your plan for taking time out for myself, includes spending time with you."
"I'm just saying, I'm sure we can find someone who can boss people around half as good as you can. You can hang your boots up for five minutes, read a book, knit a sweater. The colony isn't going to fall apart."
"All activities that sound suspiciously like I'd need tutelage from you," He noted.
"The tutelage isn't necessary. I'm sure I'd enjoy watching you fail just as much."
Simon gave him a rare smile, which Josh could feel all the way down to his toes. There'd never been much of their mutual history that was happy. His smile turned sad, and he turned back down to resume his work on the criminal.
"Some other time, perhaps. Call me when North reports in."
Josh knew a rebuff when he saw one, and retreated gracefully to try again another day.