"Operator, I'm Carolyn Wheeler. Employee 001118956. Confirm?"
The sight of the Operator attacking the Typhon Morgan with electricity had felt like a shock to her as well. Carolyn sprang from the couch, backed away and repeated her identification while holding up her keycard as the Pyramid 580 class Operator drifted her direction. Its arms were still upraised.
What the hell had happened here? Had someone hacked it? She remembered seeing video of Operators corrupted by Technopathic Typhon but this didn't seem nearly as crazed. Or at all. It had floated right up to Morgan's Mimic and attacked before either of them noticed anything was wrong at all.
Carolyn backpedaled around the sofa. The Operator stopped where she'd been, hovered a moment, then unsealed a part of its casing. One manipulation arm reached inside and produced a coffee cup. A cup it tossed on the ground in front of her.
The faint shift of static warned Carolyn to dive for cover just as a Mimic abruptly erupted from where the cup had been. Arms flailed, lashing out to strike the fabrication bench and Morgan's bed. She'd rolled herself over that bed, dropped on the other side and looked frantically for something to defend herself with. A nightstand, not much help. A closet with...shoes? Bags? Ridiculous. A painting on the wall of some kind of...cell?
With a skittering cry, oily shadow rolled around the edge of the bed and she was out of time. It lunged and she snatched up the nearest thing that came to hand; a thick grey comforter spread over the bed. The rumpled sheets buried the creature, enfolding it like a net even as she felt its alien, unnatural strength squirming to tear through. The horror of it was too much; she dropped the bundle and dove over the bed once more, making straight for the door.
Except the Operator now hovered in front of the exit, arms held up with a current running between them.
Instead, she dashed across the room and ran into the bathroom. It wasn't much but it locked and it was a thin, precious barrier between herself and the death coming to claim her. Carolyn cried out as she felt the wood shudder from the first impact. Tears spilled from her eyes at the second impact but she dug in, back against it despite the fear of those tentacles punching through wood into flesh. She had to hold!
A much harder impact nearly knocked the door in. Gasping, Carolyn slid down the length of wood until her forehead pressed against her knees as she sat on the floor. The frame shuddered several more times in rapid succession. Then something outside blew up, with a raw burning sizzle of fried electronics and the myriad of tings from scattering metal fragments.
A minute later, she heard a knock at the door. Three times.
"...Who is it?" she asked, hating the way panic made her voice go all squeaky.
"It's Morgan. You can come out now."
"Blimey! How do I know it's you?"
"How do you know you're you?"
Carolyn blinked, then craned her neck around to look at the door, as if she could somehow look through it. "What?"
"Don't ask existential questions if you aren't ready to be asked." Morgan's voice through broken but still intact frame sounded...amused. Almost cheerful.
Slowly, Carolyn pushed herself back up to her feet and thumbed the lock dial. Or tried to. Stubbornly, it wouldn't budge. She tried again, then twisted with both hands but she couldn't get it to move. The bathroom couldn't be locked from the outside, could it? More probably, the repeated blows to the door had warped the locking mechanism.
"I'm...well, I could use a little help. I'm stuck. Won't open."
"Stand back."
As actually standing back would have put her against the sink and not far enough from the door, Carolyn opted to step to the left out of the path of fire. A second later, fingers pierced the wooden frame, clenched and then the whole door tore off its hinges. Awed despite herself, she gingerly tilted to peer out of the newly exposed bathroom doorway. Morgan leaned the entirely broken door against the kitchen bar counter before brushing her hands off and turning back.
A faint smile creased those full lips. Carolyn suddenly wondered what shade of lipstick Morgan preferred and how she'd look with it on. Nonsense, especially given this wasn't the real Morgan. Maybe that was the reason for the thought. The real Morgan had been far too intimidating and had never smiled like that.
"You seem cheery," Carolyn observed.
"My brother wanted me to be empathetic, able to handle high stress situations while doing the right thing. The simulation that provided the basis for my declarative memory used the Talos I incident, which naturally involved waking up in a simulation within the simulation and trying to survive the outbreak much as Morgan did the first time."
"Like this, you mean?"
Morgan's smile widened slightly. "I've been…"
"Don't say bored."
"Adapting," the Typhon said instead. "Having guests or interruptions that weren't life or death took getting used to. You, actually." She brushed a lock of wavy black hair back off her brow. "You're the first person I've met to ask me questions. To keep asking me questions. I'm used to being told what to do or knowing what to do next. This is familiar at least. Mostly. At this point, my transcribe should be getting a call telling me why that Operator tried to kill me."
They both looked down at the transcribe attached to Morgan's belt. Several seconds went by before they glanced up at each other once more. This time, Carolyn shared Morgan's smile.
"Well, I don't fancy murder attempts. I'd better report this."
She walked to the door and swiped her keycard. It didn't yield. Frowning, Carolyn bent over the keypad and scanned her ID bracelet before at last resorting to her private employee code. Nothing. At which point Morgan stepped in beside her.
With practiced fingers, the Typhon drew her transcribe and remotely accessed the keypad. Complex code flashed across the screen, pulsing like a heartbeat or a countdown. Morgan's face took on an expression of grim concentration as her fingers expertly manipulated the transcribe's virtual controls.
Abruptly, the keypad pulsed again with the familiar 'access granted' tones and the door slid open. Revealing the two soldiers who immediately pivoted, aimed their rifles and fired.
The rapport of automatic fire deafened Carolyn in the enclosed space of Morgan's flat. She dropped instantly, hands pressed over her ears, expecting bullets to find their mark. They didn't. She realized her eyes were clenched tightly shut and, with enormous effort, she opened them. One guard lay prone before her, blood trickling from his nose and a certain laxity in his neck suggesting unconsciousness or possibly death. His rifle lay in pieces, snapped cleanly in half.
Morgan stood in the entryway, holding the other assault rifle. She ejected the magazine, examined it, and snapped it back in. Bending over the incapacitated guard, she swiftly searched his belt and produced several more magazines which she tucked into the waistbelt of her TranStar corporate uniform.
The Typhon's eyes lifted to meet Carolyn's. "Get the pistol and the additional ammunition from the other one."
"What?" Carolyn dropped her hands from her ears and slowly rose to her feet. "Where is-"
"Behind you."
Sure enough, while she'd evidently cowered on the floor, Morgan had somehow thrown the other guard over her. His armored body lay draped over Morgan's fabrication bench, one arm swinging loosely. The other arm had knocked the workstation terminal there right off the desk. No more email for the Typhon.
Feeling oddly giddy, Carolyn approached the guard and relieved him of his pistol before fetching the additional ammunition. Morgan accepted the bullets readily enough but raised an eyebrow when Carolyn tried to pass her the pistol.
"Do you know how to shoot?"
"I-well, Sarah Elazar drilled anyone working on Talos I in the basics but it's been years since-"
"Just remember: There's the safety. Don't put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Don't aim the pistol until you're ready to shoot. Don't aim it at your feet either." Morgan frowned at her and it wasn't...well, it wasn't an unpleasant frown exactly but it was the most critical expression she'd seen on the Typhon. It was very familiar expression for the woman this Typhon had been turned into, though.
Carolyn instantly resolved not to give her rescuer a reason to look at her like that again. "I'll do my best, Morgan," she said.
"I have an idea. We'll see if it's needed." The Typhon's attention shifted from the pistol to Carolyn's face, then down to her belt. "Have you tried your transcribe? Can you call for help?"
Good Lord. It was just as well the monster in this room was on her side because it was obviously much smarter than she'd been. Carolyn felt an uncharacteristic blush heat her cheeks, an experience she hadn't felt in years. Public relations drilled involuntary responses out of a woman in a hurry but evidently life and death situations had a way of overriding training. Who knew?
She drew her transcribe, thumbed open its menu and toggled open her work account. For about twenty seconds, Carolyn had access and had the beginnings of an email drafting when the transcribe abruptly logged her out. She pressed her contacts list next, only to squeak a protest when Morgan snatched the device out of her hand. The Typhon thumbed through menus with practiced speed, arriving in a slew of screens Carolyn had never seen before...just as the whole transcribe went dead.
"Someone killed your access remotely," Morgan said, tossing the transcribe back to Carolyn, who barely caught it with her left hand seeing as her right was still occupied with holding a pistol. "If this were Talos I, I would think Dahl is after us. I don't think Dahl would use an Operator as a delivery mechanism for a Mimic-as-weapon, though. That was...clever," the Typhon admitted, and her face bore a grudging respect. "Technopaths have learned a great deal in the last two years. Though that doesn't-"
"Explain the guards?" Carolyn finished. "Damn you, Alex. What have you gotten me into?"
"This isn't him," Morgan insisted. "My brother wouldn't do this."
"He's not your brother, though."
"I know what kind of man he is," Morgan insisted. "Is he still the CEO of TranStar?"
"Uh, no. The public word is he took over your counterpart's old job as Head Researcher for TranStar R&D to solve the problems TranStar made. Personally, I suspect his parents had him ousted and this is a demotion. Though I don't know why...oh."
"Oh?" Morgan looked curious.
"Well, I guess I can imagine why William and Catherine Yu might want a Typhon who looks like their daughter dead."
The Typhon in question grimaced and looked strangely regretful. Then she hoisted the assault rifle and stepped out into the opulent hallway of Sublevel Thirty. Each step was deliberate, unhurried yet strange quiet for all that. Carolyn followed in her wake, acutely conscious that her heels made too much noise. With regrets of her own, she slipped her feet out of them and padded after in her stockings instead.
Once more, Carolyn stood in the relics of Old Earth, saw expensive carpets handmade by dead people, saw displays holding pottery or paintings made by more dead people interspersed with large potted shrubs immaculately groomed to within an inch of perfection. This was the kind of place for impressing the kind of visiting dignitary that didn't visit anymore because they were all dead too. It wasn't the kind of place to have a gun fight. But then, there weren't any soldiers in immediate evidence either.
Until four of them suddenly rounded the corner from the corridor leading to the secured elevator. Two dropped to one knee as they raised their rifles. The other two stopped behind them and drew back their arms to throw grenades.
At which point Morgan exploded into action.
The Typhon brushed against Carolyn and the impact knocked the public relations worker to the ground. With one bent knee, Morgan suddenly sprinted straight down the hallway moving at a speed to rival an Olympic athlete. Bullets erupted in fiery tongues from the ends of those assault rifles yet Morgan didn't shoot back. Instead, the Typhon leaped like she meant to clear a pole vault and sailed down the hall feet first before impacting right in the midst of the group.
Carolyn went momentarily blind as both grenades struck near her. Instead of exploding, they released some kind of nauseating purplish light that left her faintly ill. Blinking, she peered through fading display at the action unfolding.
Two of the soldiers were sprawled from Morgan's impact and the Typhon had fallen heavily on the two shooters who'd been kneeling. As her back hit the floor, she seized each of the guards she'd landed on and slammed their helmeted heads together. Springing to her feet, she thrust her hands at the two in the back that she'd staggered with her feet. Something twisted in space but the pair ignored it, whatever it was, and drew pistols that they fired with incredible speed. This time, the bullets ripped into Morgan and the Typhon flinched before slapping the guns right out of their hands.
They went for another sidearm and Morgan struck like a sledgehammer. One mighty blow smashed the first through the wooden-paneled corridor wall, caving in the drywall beneath. The second went flying backwards when Morgan crouched and delivered a follow up punch straight against the breastplate of his armored stomach. He must have gone a good forty feet before crashing against the end of the hallway, slamming against the cage warding the elevator.
"Jesus Christ!"
For the...what, the fourth time? Fifth time? However many times it'd been, Carolyn picked herself off the floor yet again and staggered over to join her recurring recuser.
"Are you-"
"I'm fine," Morgan said, walking back to retrieve the assault rifle she'd dropped in her mad dash.
Blood trickled down the Typhon's TranStar corporate uniform but she didn't seem especially hampered by her wounds. Carolyn's gaze dropped to some of the spatters of blood ruining that fabulously expensive carpeted hallway floor. The blood was red. It was red? How did that work? Wouldn't the blood go back to being Typhon blood? That black splattery stuff that smelled like ozone and chemicals? Instead, the air was ripe with the heady scent of biting copper.
"You didn't shoot them," Carolyn observed, poking her way between the guards. Definitely unconscious. Probably had a few broken bones a piece but they were alive.
"Of course I didn't shoot them," Morgan said, sounding exactly as exasperated as the original Morgan had been. The Typhon dripped blood as she walked by the downed soldiers and accessed a security terminal next to the elevator. Once more, she drew her transcribe and remoted into the terminal, piercing its protective firewall in a relentlessly methodical fashion.
A moment later, Morgan downloaded a map of Sublevel Thirty. Then, as an afterthought, she forwarded a copy to Carolyn's transcribe as well.
"You could have."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you?"
Morgan didn't answer. Carolyn peered over her shoulder as the Typhon slipped her transcribe away and returned to the security terminal. Tabbing rapidly, both of them scanned the subject lines of emails and other pending orders.
CYRUS BENNETT / EMAIL
From: Dimitri Pipenko
To: Cyrus Bennett
Cc: Sublevel 20+
Subject: ! Urgent Handling
Internal sensors show Mr. Yu's pet project has gone rogue and is to be shut down immediately. Kill on sight. Use Nullwave Grenades. All Yakima Facility staff should be escorted to safety and debriefed for any possible contamination. Elevator lockdown is in effect until confirmation of target elimination is received.
- Dimitri
"Bloody hell." Carolyn grimaced, realized she'd started waving her pistol around in frustration and promptly pointed it down. And shifted her aim a moment later, after realizing she'd aimed at her foot.
With sure touches on the touchscreen, the Typhon accessed some kind of camera utility and turned it off before locking it behind a codewall. "We need to leave this facility," Morgan muttered.
Raising an eyebrow, Carolyn asked "And how do you imagine we'll manage that?"
Morgan lowered her transcribe and tucked it away. She bent to retrieve her purloined assault rifle and briefly inspected, probably to make sure nothing broke when she'd dropped it. The Typhon seemed reluctant to answer, much as she'd been seemingly reluctant to admit her motives behind her use of non-lethal force.
At last, Morgan said, "I'm used to getting a transcribe call or an email or something to point me to what I'm supposed to do next."
"This isn't a simulation," Carolyn said, repressing a smile if only because she knew how poorly it would be received.
"The Talos I simulation is the only experience I have to draw upon."
"What do you remember from before the simulation?"
Morgan's lips twitched. It might have been a smirk but it was more likely a grimace. The tension around her eyes, in the lines of her face, suggested some kind of unpleasant association. "Some things," she admitted. "That we don't have time to talk about now. This Dimitri Pipenko must know by now his soldiers have failed to contain me. He'll be sending more. I took out the cameras but that won't stop him. And according to this floorplan, this elevator is the only point of access. I need to gain entry to the elevator, pass through Sublevel Ten's security checkpoint and then get to the main elevator up to the Yakima Facility. It's too many checkpoints."
"TranStar's Security all have psychoscopes and there are scanners that check for exotic materials. There's a reason the Typhon haven't taken this place, Morgan. Well, that and we're out in the middle of nowhere."
"There has to be another way." Morgan's brow creased with thought. "How sensitive are the scanners?"
"Meaning what exactly?"
"They can detect Mimics?"
"Oh yes." Carolyn pondered. "I believe they have a chipset of some kind that lets them see both the ordinary kind and the greater variety."
"What about other kinds of exotic material?"
"Beg pardon?"
Morgan's grimace straightened slightly into an unmistakable smirk. "How do they react to humans who've used Neuromods?"
"Oh, they're trained to pass right over those but that doesn't do you much good, does it?"
"What about a Neuromod itself?"
"I-" Carolyn paused and thought about it. "Naturally, I'm not an expert on Neuromod security and handling, you understand. But I believe they're carried in a special case. I've seen a researcher go through security one one, anyway. You think a Typhon might slip through while mimicking something with Typhon material in it?"
"If they had someone to carry them."
Morgan's gaze was intent. Carolyn shifted uncomfortably as she realized what this meant. And what it would mean.
Right now, she was an innocent in all of this. She'd come down under orders from Alex Yu, left his office with clear confirmation from his admin, and was seen by cameras going into Morgan's flat. Depending on how camera security was regulated, perhaps Security didn't have access to what exactly happened inside that room and perhaps they did.
If they didn't, they'd know Carolyn had come out with some kind of advanced Mimic that looked like Morgan Yu who then assaulted all those guards and locked out the cameras. It might look like they were working together.
If they did? Oi. They'd know the Typhon had saved her life, repeatedly, as well as the contents of all their conversations to now.
The problem was she couldn't think of a cover story that had room for both outcomes. If they saw inside the room, the smart thing would be to submit to Security and explain there'd been an assassination attempt of sorts on the experiment. Unless of course it wasn't assassination because it was authorized in which case...she'd be signing Morgan's death warrant right there.
If they couldn't see into the room…
"I'm thinking," Carolyn said, noticing Morgan shuffling her feet. For good reason. Any second now-
And then she was out of seconds. The elevator shaft hummed as a car descended. And Carolyn still hadn't even decided if or why she should risk her career or her life for a Typhon.
"Just tell me if the Captain and Flight Engineer of the Advent survived," Morgan said, almost too quietly to hear over the rising volume of the incoming elevator car.
A look of peace crossed the Typhon's perfectly mimicked face. Morgan wanted to know because she didn't expect to survive this encounter. In what she thought were her last moments, the Typhon's thoughts were on the people she saved. Whatever she was, this Morgan deserved more than a bullet.
Carolyn smiled sadly and said "I don't know. But we all made it to Earth." Then she held out her hand before turning her palm upwards. Morgan glanced down at it for a moment, peered back at her.
And then the elevator doors opened, and a pack of twelve TranStar Security Guards surrounded a public relations worker holding a Neuromod in her hand.
