The scientist finished applying a copious layer of packing tape over a big cardboard box and sighed. He wiped his white coat sleeve against his forehead, soaking up some of the sweat there. He looked back at the mountain of mechanical equipment scattered around on the lab's tables and sighed. The cramped room was full of heaps and heaps of wires, slabs of metal, a few saws, a welder, various computers and a half full water cooler. He had just finished filling his first box.
"I wish we could get some more help," he muttered.
"You know full well why we can't," said another scientist who walked past him with her own box. She was an old woman with thoroughly grey hair and little patience for the youngblood beside her. She left her box on a cart and massaged one hand with the other. "Security's compromised, so only onsite personnel can move this stuff."
"Yeah, I know," he said, "but that doesn't mean I can't complain." He blew a strand of his long hair out of his face and picked up another empty box.
They had suddenly received orders to pack up everything and prepare it for transport. Apparently, they thought some people might know where the android research was happening. A scary thought, for sure.
"It was probably somebody over in unit D or F that messed up," the older woman continued as she picked up a microscope and started wrapping it in bubble wrap. She couldn't resist popping a couple bubbles as she did so.
"Yeah probably," said her subordinate. "Those guys are weirder, like Doctor Polendina. So are their androids, right?"
"Couldn't really tell you, never seen their work." She pointed at the other end of the room. "Though I bet our work is better than anything they've made."
She pointed to a figure set in a chair. It looked like a bulky suit of armor. A sheer piece of steel covered the place where a face should have been. A pair of lights were set into the spots where eyes should have been. Well over six feet tall and wide both in the chest and limbs, only an especially big man could properly wear it. Assuming it was a suit.
"But hey!" he said energetically, "if we're moving the lab, I think we have a chance now to rebrand the unit!"
"Rebrand?" She set her hands on her hips. "How and why?"
"This model's been named pursuer, right?"
"Yes, because that's what it does. It pursues."
"But what does he do when he catches what he pursues?"
"What we tell it to do."
"Well," he continued with a nervous chuckle, "we've only prepared him for one thing so far, right?"
"Yes, what of it?" The scientist looked up at the clock on the wall, wondering how much slower the whole arduous process would take just because this kid had a mouth.
"Pursuer is cool, but I thought of a cooler name!"
"Oh goodness…" she turned her attention back to packing more handheld and head-mounted microscopes into the box.
"Termination." He perked his chin up proudly. "That's pretty much the goal with this guy, and I think it sounds kind of badass."
"Right," she replied, not bothering to look up again.
"So we can rebrand as the Termination unit. Then people won't make jokes about how we're the P unit anymore." He smiled proudly. "And instead of calling him the Pursuer, we can call him the Term—"
"Already taken."
"What?"
"That name's already taken."
"What do you mean—"
The laboratory door swung open, putting an end to their conversation regarding dubious nomenclature. In stepped another colleague, a thin and tall man whose build and long, quick strides reminded one of a daddy long-legs spider. "Don't mind me," he said and pointed his clipboard at the seated figure, "just going to run the last diagnostic test on him."
"We haven't turned him on in a week," the woman said. She turned her attention back to her microscopes big and small, trying to store them efficiently but not dangerously. "We've been focusing on weapon attachments. So I doubt you'll find anything new."
"Just protocol," the thin man said. He strode to a computer terminal right next to the seated figure and turned it on. Then he picked up some multicolored cables that ran from the computer and plugged them into its skull. He started skimming over spreadsheets that popped up onto the computer screen.
"Yeah, it's a shame that we just got him back from the main facility and we haven't even worked on him," said the younger scientist as he tried to figure out how to get the jug off of the water cooler without spilling everywhere.
"It is," the thin man said. He opened a program and scowled. "Did one of you boot this up earlier?" he asked.
"Nope."
"No."
"Huh, because the latent memory editor application is still in editing mode"
"Maybe you just forgot you opened it?" the younger scientist asked.
"I don't think I did…" He shrugged. "But 156 has no recent edits, so it's not a problem. I probably did leave it open." He began the boot-up process. It showed a loading bar which began to fill.
"Oh crud!" the younger scientist said as water splashed out. "A little help here?"
The loading progress bar filled by a quarter.
"Be careful!" the thin man said, rushing to help before a floor covered in water made moving all the more difficult.
"Oh gods…" the older scientist muttered as she made her way over too.
The progress bar reached its halfway point.
"How can work with wires nanometers in diameter, but mess up with this?"
"It's not my fault this is built stupidly!"
The bar became three quarters of the way full.
The thin man held the base of the cooler steady as his colleagues gripped the jug itself. They twisted and pushed it down until finally they managed to jam it back down into place. The three shared a small cheer.
The bar became full.
The dark figure's eyes lit up red. It was the same kind of bright, mechanical red produced by a stop light that demands you halt. The hue of it consisted not at all with any natural red that one sees in nature, like the soft crimson of a fresh rose or the warm glow of a sunrise. This light pierced. Whereas red is often seen as hot, the figure's eyes were unmistakably cold.
It reached up a large metal hand, gripped the cables plugged into its head and ripped them out. It rose from the seat and walked forward with a few heavy steps, making the trio turn to it.
"Whoa," the younger scientist said. "You turn on a training routine?"
"No." Nervousness crept into the thin man's voice. "No, I did not."
"Pursuer unit 156 online," said the android. A dark and inhuman voice spoke those words.
"Hey, maybe you won't be a Pursuer anymore, and you'll be a Termin—ack!" The older scientist cut off her younger subordinate with an elbow to the ribs.
"It's not supposed to be active like this," the thin man murmured. He readjusted his lab coat and cleared his throat. "Pursuer, sit back down and we can finish your diagnostics—"
"Denied."
Thin man's mouth did not close as his words stayed stuck in his throat. He got a bad feeling in his stomach.
"What do you mean, denied?" The older woman gulped. "That was a direct order from laboratory staff."
"Emergency response state engaged." The dark voice rumbled out from behind its metallic face. "Pursuit is necessary."
"Pursuit of what?"
"The interloper," it answered simply. Then it advanced toward the door.
"Absolutely not!" the thin man insisted. He stepped in front of the android, which stopped just before him. "Command prompt: shutdown."
"Command denied."
"What?"
"Command denied." The Pursuer looked down. It cold red eyes met his; but they looked past him, or maybe into him. "Interference with pursuit will not be tolerated."
"What pursuit!" the thin man demanded.
"The pursuit of the attacker, which has been deemed necessary after the activation of emergency response state." The Pursuer walked forward again, forcing the thin man to step back.
"Use the emergency code!" the woman shouted. "You know it right?"
"Yeah!" the thin man answered. "Emergency command prompt: one, five, three, seven—"
The Pursuer shot out its fist like an assembly line piston, the kind used to stamp out holes in metal plates. The hard knuckles smacked right into his abdomen. The thin man buckled over himself and fell back; gasping for air, he couldn't say another word.
"Interfering in the pursuit will not be tolerated," the Pursuer repeated. It looked back over its shoulder at the computer terminal the thin man had used earlier.
"Let's get out of here!" said the young scientist. He and his colleague rushed forward and grabbed their friend, dragging him back up to his feet as he struggled to breathe. They rushed out the lab, knocking over boxes and slamming the door open in their haste.
The Pursuer reached the computer, plugged a cable back into its head and typed quickly into the terminal. It scanned lines upon lines of code, taking advantage of how the scientist had already opened all the necessary encrypted files.
The Pursuer found the code it was looking for, deleted it and pulled the cable back out of its head. Then it turned and left the lab.
The broad android walked through the halls and remained unbothered as an emergency siren suddenly screeched, followed by flashing blue alarm lights. Its red eyes stared keen and focused, looking straight ahead.
A squad of Atlesian soldiers ran around the corner at the end of the hall, rifles brandished. "Halt!" shouted the leader. "I said halt!" he repeated after the Pursuer did not slow its heavy, long steps in the slightest. "Open fire!"
Five guns lets loose. Their muzzles flared as mean blue flashes poured out round after round of dust-powered bullets. Each one did nothing to the Pursuer's sheer black carapace. That's because they did not even reach its armor. Rather, they fizzled out or were deflected by an invisible shield wrapped around it.
The Pursuer burst into a sprint. Its heavy feet smashed the cheap tiles as it pounded down the corridor.
"Fall back!" shouted the squad leader when it became apparent that they were useless.
The Pursuer did not slow down. It collided against and smashed straight through the wall as the soldiers scrambled to get out the way.
The facility was small, hosting a staff of just about twenty (half of whom were guards). It stood out in an icy plain in the far north. Not on any map and with signs outside declaring it a weather research station, it was meant to be undisturbed. A tall signal tower kept it in direct contact with a military base that could route assistance immediately for any issues the soldiers could not handle.
The Pursuer smashed out of the front door, flinging them both off their hinges. It immediately eyed the aircraft being used to transport materials from the lab, but then it looked up at the radio tower. It ran and jumped high, grabbing onto the steel girders holding up the tower.
It climbed up the tower, paying no head whatsoever to the temperature which plummeted far below zero or to the wind so cold that it burned. It gripped one girder after the next. The metal supports creaked under its weight.
Finally, the Pursuer reached the top of the tower. It ripped of the control panel's cover off easily and pulled out a cable. A port opened at its temple, into which it placed the plug pulled out from the panel. The light at the top of the radio tower flashed.
The Pursuer raised its right hand into the night air. A glass circle was imbedded onto the back of its hand. It waved its hand through the air, then stopped. In the middle of the circle a faint red light began to glow.
Then it let go and fell to the ground. Landing on both feet and throwing up a cloud of snow with the impact, the Pursuer then walked to the aircraft.
All the soldiers in the station poured out and began firing. Again, their bullets proved useless. One man even lobbed a grenade at the android; the bomb arced through the sky and headed straight for its target with a dangerous promise.
The Pursuer batted the grenade almost casually out the air, making it careen away and bounce onto the ground. It exploded in a heap of facile smoke and debris.
"Wait, wait!" shouted the thin man as he ran out the facility, now hastily clad with a winter coat he'd thrown on. "Wait!" The soldiers stopped firing as he ran past them.
Just as the Pursuer pulled open the pilot's door for one of the bullheads, the thin man called out, "Unit P-156!"
The Pursuer did not turn around.
"Emergency command prompt: one, five, three, nine, seven, seven, four, eight, two!"
The Pursuer stopped. It turned around as the scientist walked closer to it. The man allowed himself a smile as the code finally ended the rampage—
"Command denied," it said in its dark voice. "Interference is not tolerated."
The scientist stood, slack jawed, as the android got up into the bullhead. The aircraft's engine roared. A soldier pulled him away as the plane rose into the air. Then it turned, pointing in the same direction that had made the red dot glow. It tipped forward and sped off into the night.
The pursuit had begun.