Chapter 31

He crouched behind the dead truck, rubbing a tiny amount of fine ash between his fingers. His khaki trench coat hung draped over one arm, up out of the dust. It was a very human gesture. Many things about him were so. Even in his own mind he spoke to himself as if he were a man, with ifs and whens and pictures and suppositions; and if there was in his thinking a bit more precision, a bit more singlemindedness, and certainly a more accurate memory than most, well, that was only to be expected.

He had no particular way to distinguish human ashes from any animal's. He did have sufficiently advanced vision to recognize human blood when he saw it, however, and it was certainly human blood that was spattered all over the site.

More importantly, he was quite able to recognize the sonic restraint collar in his other hand. It was broken in two, which to him seemed crude and unnecessary. But then, that was the B series for you. Crude. Simple. It was why B2-09 had been easy to track and also why the mercenaries had easily trapped her.

But someone else had pried off the back panel and pulled out the power source. No android could function to that level with the collar on, as he had very good reason to know. He assumed the collar had come off after whoever-it-was had killed all three Talon Company mercenaries, and before they made off with several million dollars in Institute property. B units, so brilliantly suited to dealing with accidents or dangerous animals, usually reacted very poorly to human violence. He wondered if she would even be salvageable by the techs.

But that was not his problem. Traces in the dust said he was likely have much more of a problem with the wielder of the combat shotgun which had blown the mercenaries to doll rags before they were atomized with a weapons-grade laser of uncertain manufacture. The one in the child-sized moccasins, who had foolishly tracked through an ash pile a few inches from him, could by no means have carried such a thing. B2-09 would have been in no condition to do anything to human bodies. That meant there was probably a robot involved as well.

He got up and looked inside the truck again. Spectral traces there told him what the mercenaries had been doing that had made them so easy for their killer to take them by surprise. He felt a moment's cold anger himself, something that would indeed have startled his makers (symptomatic as it was of emotional states that he was supposed to simulate, not experience). He clenched one fist without knowing that he had done it. There was always the possibility that a CAU would be resurfaced and reprogrammed for outplacement on a lease when its laboratory days were over, very expensively whored out to make money for the Institute. Had the B units not been built with that in mind, it might well have been technically impossible for the mercenaries to do what they had done.

That B2-09 had voluntarily followed the newcomers, one of whom was certainly male, was nothing short of a miracle. They must be extraordinary people.

It was really too bad that he would have to kill both of them.

---

After an hour's shooting from the roof, Charon had killed every deathclaw in sight except one. That one was out of sight from the roof, because it was under the awning in front of the front door. Xen listened to the sound of enraged snarling from below.

"It must be smaller than the others," she said. "Otherwise it would have to know it doesn't fit through doorways by now. Bell said they're smart."

"Then we have another problem," said Changeling flatly. "If it is small enough to fit through the doorway it is probably also small enough to fit through the window."

"It's stopped working on the door," said Bell.

"Please move away from t'stairwell," said Charon. Xen scooted with alacrity to kneel beside him. Bell followed her and squatted on his other side. Changeling hovered off to the left, equidistant between the stairwell and the parapet. Charon set down the rifle, drew his shotgun, and turned to train it on the closed stairwell door.

Changeling was proven right a very long minute later, when the sound of splayed feet scrambling up the stairs became clearly audible. A moment after that the doorknob began to rattle.

"Xen, cover your ears," said Changeling. Xen obeyed, just in time as the door flung open and a deathclaw bounded out onto the roof. Charon fired three times in rapid succession, and so close to her ears the sound was deafening, even through her covering hands. The deathclaw fell in midleap, crashing to the roof in a jumble of skinny, leathery limbs and a spray of dark blood. In the ringing silence that followed, Xen realized that it was indeed smaller than the others she had seen, though whether starving or just not fully grown she could not tell. She realized, after a moment's thought, why Charon had not shot through the stairwell door the instant the knob rattled.

It may be smaller, but it's still not small – and then we'd have a dead or wounded deathclaw in the stairwell, across our only way out. Particularly since we don't have a fire escape any more.

Charon calmly put up the shotgun, picked up the rifle, and returned to scanning their surroundings over the parapet. No doubt he was checking to see if the noise had attracted anything else, Xen thought.

"Xen," he said. "Clear."

"Do you see any manhole covers?" she asked.

"No," said Charon. "But I cannot see very much at ground level."

"Charon's night vision is only slightly better than a human's," said Changeling. "It should be safe for you to approach the parapet now, if you wish." If there was an overtone of disapproval in her normally toneless voice, Xen chose not to hear it.

Xen needed no second invitation. She stood up and leaned over the parapet, looking wide-eyed at Old Olney. It was only the second real city she had ever seen, after Washington, D.C. The buildings were shorter, and a little further apart. A lot of them had alleys in between them. Down at street level, the pitted concrete and the dead cars were all too familiar. Even the litter was the same, miscellaneous papers and tin cans and empty liquor bottles.

But then, culture was pretty homogeneous in the USA by the time the bombs fell, she remembered from her reading.

She counted five dead deathclaws, mounded up in the intersections or slumped against buildings. One lay sprawled out like a broken toy in the middle of a street. This building was on the edge of town, next to the parking lot and the Wasteland, and he had chosen a firing position near the corner of the roof, where he could see out in both directions.

"All the ones I see are really big," Xen said after a couple of minutes. "It looks like you've cleared all the territories near us."

"Didn't miss a single time," said Bell. She smiled at Charon. He looked back without apparent expression, but once again Xen received the impression he was amused. Maybe the exposed circle of tendon around his lips had twitched.

"Others will replace them," said Changeling.

"How soon?" Xen asked.

"Insufficient data," said Changeling. "My observational files on their behavior are still too limited."

"Hm." Xen walked slowly around the edge of the roof, looking down over the parapet. It made sense to check this alley first, after all. But there was nothing resembling a manhole cover down among the remains of the fire escape, nor yet between the two buildings. She went back to the corner of the roof and stood frowning down at Old Olney. This building wasn't much taller than its neighbors, so she didn't have a good angle on very many of the alleys. "I could see better if I stood on this," she said, tapping the parapet with a long finger.

"I cannot recommend that," said Changeling immediately.

"Charon will make sure I don't fall," said Xen. "Help me up, Charon."

She was prepared this time, so it came as less of a shock when the Ghoul put both hands around her waist and picked her up and set her on top of the parapet. It was about waist-high for her normally, so it was no particular stretch for a person as tall as Charon. It was a little distracting that he left his hands in place – large, warm hands - but not so much that she couldn't do what was needed.

"There's one two buildings down, across the street," Xen said. "It's not far into the alley mouth. Changeling can probably see it from here. Put me down, Charon."

The packbot glided over to the edge as Charon set Xen carefully back down on the roof. She had no trouble regaining her balance. She was beginning to feel heavy and tired.

The epi is wearing off. And this night is a long way from over.

"Do you see it?" Xen asked the robot.

"Affirmative," said Changeling.

"Let me check it first," said Charon.

"If you run into a deathclaw down there where it's enclosed, is that likely to be a problem?" she asked.

"It will not be a problem," said Charon with finality.

Xen looked at the sky. No rim of pale color showed above the East yet, but there was the faintest suggestion of a lighter blue to the dark sky.

"All right," she said. "Try to be back in an hour. I don't know how long we'll be safe up here."

"If dat is your order," said Charon, and turned and stepped around the dead deathclaw and vanished silently down the stairwell. Xen watched over the parapet until she saw him cross the street. He made no attempt to hide his progress. Presumably, there was nothing to hide it from. She watched him pull up the round manhole cover, peer down into the dark, and then vanish down what seemed to be a ladder.

Xen stared around at the town as she waited. A slight breeze disturbed the litter below, and the brushy sound of shifting paper drifted up. The dead thing behind her stank abominably, of reptile and blood and excrement, but her personal vocabulary of bad smells was now large enough that she was able to mostly ignore it. Old Olney showed no signs of being inhabited, and in fact it was hard to believe it ever had been. These same buildings and these same streets might have been rotting in silence for a thousand years while the monsters stalked among them.

Charon emerged from the sewer in less than an hour, but it seemed much longer. Xen heard the scrape of the manhole cover even from where she was, and almost jumped. The Ghoul climbed up out of the hole and jogged back across the street, seemingly unchanged and unharmed. Xen listened, but he made very little sound coming up the stairs. She watched him step out onto the roof.

"Well?" said Xen.

"Clear," said Charon. "I killed one deathclaw. Dere will be ot'ers. T'sewer very likely spans the town."

"How far down would you say it is?" Xen asked. Charon told her.

"Changeling, can you pick up an energy source over our heads from down there?" Xen asked.

"Conditional affirmative. It will depend on the density of surface structures above us," said Changeling. "I might be able to read through a street. Certainly not through a building with a reinforced foundation."

"I'm afraid it's the best we can do," Xen said. "Charon, lead the way."

They followed the Ghoul back down the stairs and out the unblocked front door. Xen supposed Charon had done it himself. The footsteps of Xen and Bell were the only sounds as they crossed the street under the chill and distant stars, and then they followed Charon down into the reeking dark.

There followed another of those nightmarish treks through dull and unchanging terrain that Xen was beginning to consider ordinary in her recent experience. The sewers were not claustrophobic, which surprised her a little. The ceilings were quite high, the round tunnel nearly big enough to admit a subway train. But then, a deathclaw would hardly find them livable otherwise. The lighting was more consistent than that of the subway, and the tunnels were less traveled and thus less damaged, but this only added to the grinding sameness as they walked on and on. The smell was not as bad as she'd expected. These had not been much used for their intended purpose in a very long time.

Charon killed two more deathclaws. This hardly added much interest. In both cases he simply drew the shotgun and vanished around a bend, and then they would hear the gunshots. Xen was unable to find that he ever missed, even in what must be a much darker environment to him than it was to her, and he seemed uninjured both times. She actually found herself yawning after the second one. Bell was quiet, looking and listening with hardly any comment. Xen supposed she was taking the opportunity for further internal repairs.

"Changeling," she said eventually. "What's the time?"

"Five a.m.," said Changeling. "No xenoorganic energy signature detected. We are still traveling ten degrees North of West."

"Everyone keep an eye out for a maintenance area or something where we can stop," Xen said. "Preferably with a small door."

"Amen to that," said Bell. "Even one of the big ones can't break through a concrete wall. We're probably safer down here than up there." She jerked a thumb toward the ceiling and, by extension, the surface. "Although you'll probably have to sleep on concrete. It's harder than dirt."

"I've actually slept on concrete more," said Xen. "We've done a lot of subway travel." She shrugged. "Sometimes there were mattresses, but mostly the concrete was cleaner."

They found a small room, hardly more than a repair closet, a few minutes later. Xen could not afterwards say that she slept well, but she did feel very safe with Charon and Bell between her and the door and Changeling standing guard outside.