Aliens vs Predator 2 - Hunter's Planet Page 4

  Attila looked a little troubled. "I wouldn't know. I don't have a subconscious. Perhaps I should save my money and buy one some day."

  They were about three kilometers out in the plains of Machiko Noguchi's work world. It was the corporation's bureaucratic equivalent of Saturday, and Machiko used the day in her usual fashion.

  Exercises.

  Fighting exercises with Attila the Hun, her robot, to be precise.

  Keep the body trim. Keep the soul sleek. Keep the old noodle alive. That was the ticket. Even when she'd been assigned out here in Zerosville, she'd realized that she was going to have to have some kind of trainer, some kind of companion, and since she wasn't quite certain of the human availability in these departments out here in the hinter worlds, she'd bought herself a robot.

  Well, "android" was the proper term, really, but as far as she was concerned, Attila was a robot. He'd been a number when she'd bought him, and she'd renamed him. It wasn't often that a private citizen was able to afford the expense, and she'd had to get the Company's approval. However, she'd explained in no uncertain terms what she'd needed the thing for, and since the Company was quite aware of her past and wanted to placate her as much as to get this loose cannon off their main deck, they'd complied. She had the money, and if she wanted to use it on a fabricated companion, well, what difference did it make if she used it to fight with or to fornicate with?

  Attila the Hun was not the normal android used by the corporation. He was not an Artificial Person in the usual semiorganic sense, but rather a more mechanical sort. His strata of models was created to be affordable to the average populace, and used for commercial or private reasons rather than military or space exploration.

  She programmed Attila to her specifications.

  Unfortunately, she didn't know quite what to do with the personality that came along with the whole package.

  "A beautiful day, Miss Noguchi, is it not?" said Attila, casting a smile across the plains.

  Machiko granted.

  "Not feeling particularly articulate today?"

  "I just get really annoyed when you call me `Miss,' dammit."

  "You're not married."

  "Look, we've gone over this a hundred times before. I wasn't aware that I hadn't had your previous programs erased, okay? I didn't realize that you had such a complex background. I realize that I can't erase them now without erasing you in toto. Can't you try to selectively erase habits--like calling me `Miss'?"

  "Certainly."

  "Well, do it."

  "You're not in a very good mood today, are you, Ms. Noguchi?"

  "Machiko. Please, just call me Machiko."

  "Oh, excellent. I enjoy our informal exchanges. It's nice to relate to you when you unleash me from the closet to do your will with me."

  "Right. Like you haven't got a life."

  "My life is to serve."

  "And to watch your tapes and catalog your music."

  "One has to fill the spare moments."

  "I should have had you programmed to clean and cook. That's what I should have done."

  "I do my share."

  "You can boil water and that's about it."

  "You forget that although I have senses, they have to be calibrated to the proper specifications to cook to your taste. Also, I would clean more, if your odd meditation exercises did not call for such Spartan quarters and your regimen did not call for your cleaning it yourself, as part of your kata."

  "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just in a bitchy mood. Maybe defeating holographic opponents isn't quite as satisfying as the thunk of real flesh, the splash of real blood."

  "I'm sorry. I'm not equipped with those sorts of simulations. Again, you attempt to make me feel inferior."

  "Nothing of the sort."

  Attila suddenly smiled, and it was a revelation. Usually when in repose that face was dark and dour. With a dark complexion, dark eyes, a natural frown, and a sharp, perfect nose set in a thin face topped with a perfect short gentleman's haircut, Attila looked more like a mopey Neapolitan young man than a Germanic Hun. However, when he smiled, showing perfectly shaped white teeth, the entire face seemed to light up into a different dimension. Moments like this made Machiko forget entirely that he wasn't a human being.

  Moments like this also made her remember that she was a human being.

  She'd always prided herself on her cool, her control. Her glacial characteristics had caused associates to dub her "Ice Princess" or "Snow Queen." She had had very few friends. Her pride in life was remaining tough, cool, and efficient.

  She had changed somewhat after her experience with the yautja. True, she had been more comfortable in some ways with creatures who had rules of behavior among them and who generally obeyed those rules. However, they were alien, and she was human. Her experience on Gordian made her realize that she had a deep instinctual love for, and loyalty to, humanity. She respected the yautja. In many ways she had become one of them. But she had discovered that she would have to do so in human terms and so was now trying to explore different dimensions of her humanity. This did not mean that she could deal with other people that well. However, she was trying. One of the best parts of being with Attila was that she felt comfortable with him and could be playful or bitchy, cold or charming, and experiment with emerging aspects of her personality.

  "Oh, good," said Attila. "Then you'll snap out of your funk and agree with me that it's a beautiful day. I mean, all the evidence is here before you."

  Machiko looked around.

  The scent of her own exercise had dissipated somewhat, so she was able to notice the smells around her. Prominent, of course, was the grass. Not Earth-type grass, but on the same principle, short and green and cast over everything like a luxuriant rug. It was this area's version of summer here, pleasantly warm, just as the area's version of winter was pleasantly cold. In between were the long, long autumn and spring, king and queen of this world of the bland and the mild.

  Flowers.

  That was what Attila was talking about, of course.

  The floral addition was truly pleasant and combined with the odd shadings of color combed into the surroundings, poking out of unexpected spots in ochers and magentas and bright slashes of camellia. That, along with the uncommon blue-green of the sky, the way the cumulus clouds navigated the vastly, silent reaches of it, and out beyond the reaches and humps of hills and flats, the faint suggestion of mountain peaks.

  A slight, fragrant breeze ruffled Machiko's still short black hair, cooled the still-hot blooding mark on her forehead, that afterimage of lightning ....

  "Nice."

  "Nice?" The robot's eyebrows rose with surprise. "Merely `nice'? Where are your aesthetics?"

  She shrugged. "It has a kind of unruly, boring attractiveness, I suppose. You forget my background, though."

  A curious cock of the head. A finger lifted in understanding. "Ah, yes. As Japanese, you must prefer the more regulated and disciplined beauty of a garden."

  "I'm not saying I don't enjoy wild beauty. I learned to thrill at the wastes of Ryushi, the violent dawns, the harsh sunsets . . . ."

  "Perhaps your opinion is presently reflected by your state of mind."

  "Oh?"

  "You are not a content individual?"

  "Oh, right . . . and you are?"

  The robot shrugged. "As an android, I am merely content to be an individual."

  "Freedom in bondage, eh?"

  "I do not consider my service with you as bondage, though I suppose legally and technically it might be considered so."

  "Oh, for emancipation! Let my people go."

  Attila's face assumed a rather hurt expression.

  "Perhaps we should continue our exercises."

  Machiko took out a scarf and wiped away a residue of sweat from her exertions. "I think I want to break for lunch. Maybe we can do some war maneuvers later this afternoon."

  Attila shot an arm forward and made a show of scrutinizing his wristwatch. "I believe I
can fit you into my schedule."

  "Well, how thoughtful of you. There's a nice little bistro in town I thought we could go to."

  "Well, since there's only one bistro in town, I believe I know the one of which you speak. It's a shame you didn't bring a picnic lunch. We could have lingered and enjoyed the day . . ." He slapped his chin with exaggerated revelation. "But oh, my. How could I have forgotten?"

  Attila fairly skipped over to the omniterrain vehicle, opened the trunk, and pulled out a basket covered with a red-and-white-checked towel. He whipped this off to reveal sandwiches, apples, and a bottle of red wine.

  Machiko gave a grudging smile. "I didn't realize that you were programmed to be thoughtful."

  "All androids have areas of latitude within which to move."

  "It's the areas of longitude that trouble me."

  Attila sniffed with fake huffiness. "Perhaps you should just partake, enjoy, and then criticize if the fare does not meet your high standards."

  She laughed. "Come on, Attila. You're just trying to cheer me up." She followed him over to the boulder, where he motioned to a place where they could sit.

  "Yes. I confess. And with good reason. Life is so much more pleasant when you're in a reasonable mood." He began to unpack the basket and place the meal on the table like rock. He lifted a small vase, complete with diamond-petaled flower, and made it the centerpiece for this sumptuous display. "There. To your liking?"

  She nodded. "A pleasant surprise."

  "There is more to existence than the Art of War."

  "That's nice to know. What kind of sandwich is this?" She began to unwrap the cellophane.

  "Taste it. Guess."

  "I hope this isn't some kind of new martial-arts exercise."

  "What? Sandwich karate?"

  "Complete with the Movement of the Lettuce and Mustard?"

  "And the Pickle on the Side Kick? Hardly. May I suggest that you taste it?"

  She did. From one look at the contents between the rye slices she was able to guess that it was some kind of meat pate, and the color was liverish---but surely not . . .

  She bit into it, and her eyes lit up.

  "Foie gras!"

  "The genuine article."

  "But where-"

  "Oh, a little barter with the gentlepeople in Shipping and Handling. I thought it would go well with a picnic, and you seemed so down in the dumps lately"

  She took a bite of the delicious fatty pate and just let it linger meltingly in her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored it.

  "Can you blame me?" she said finally.

  "I had thought that you were happy when you were dating that mining foreman."

  "Who? Edward? That was a laugh. Just a diversion. It's all pretty bland now, Til. It's all anticlimax."

  "Hardly a very positive attitude. Surely those Predator sorts didn't have foie gras sandwiches?"

  "No. They ate their liver raw"

  "Surely they didn't have clever and valuable android assistants?"

  "No, and they didn't have robot slaves, either. They were quite resourceful, those fellows."

  "Hmm. Sounds like they ate honor and valor for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

  "Oh, no. There's a biological reason for their interest in Hunting. They're quite carnivorous. You can pretty much tell by their breath."

  "What a lovely bunch. And you say you actually miss them?"

  "Miss them? I wouldn't go so far as that, Til. They're not exactly the lovable sort. No, they hardly inspire much sentiment." She sighed and thought of a different way of putting her feelings. It pretty much came out exactly the way it came out before. "I felt alive then."

  "You're alive now. You want me to engage my diagnostic functions?" He grabbed her wrist. "Ah, a pulse. A very good sign."

  "Sorry. I felt fully alive. Fully in the now of existence."

  Attila shrugged. "Dangerous sportsters report the same kind of rush. It's all the human body's internal drug system. I'm told that they have some nice rushes on the black market as well."

  "No, no, you just don't understand."

  He nodded. "No. Perhaps I do. Perhaps, with all this proving of your mettle, your own honor and valor in this society of hypermacho creatures, you were able to somehow momentarily blot out the shame and guilt that rest so heavily upon your family's name because of what your father did, and what that means in the culture that you cling so stubbornly to."

  "I hate it when you get like this."

  "Get like what?"

  "What-did I buy a psych-bot for God's sake? What kind of bullshit are you handing me?"

  She got up, red-faced, and threw the half-eaten sandwich at him.

  Attila flinched.

  "Simply pointing out things we've already discussed."

  She was immediately sorry.

  She realized the reason why they didn't call these things robots anymore. Robots didn't have feelings. Androids did. And though perhaps those feelings weren't as screwy and cantankerous as human feelings tended to be, they deserved respect and consideration.

  "I apologize, Attila." She went over and picked up the sandwich, biting into it as though she were eating the words she'd previously spoken. "A delicate area." She brushed some dirt and grass from the sandwich and took a large bite, masticating with emphasis. "Hmmmm. Lovely."

  Attila the Hun folded his arms. "Perhaps I refuse to be tricked in such an obvious way."

  "Oh. You won't forgive me?"

  "I was never upset. What's to forgive?"

  "Oh, now who's dissembling?"

  "I find our course of conversation extremely unproductive and will now resume my role as your trustworthy, faithful, and silent robot servant."

  "In other words, you're going to sulk."

  "Precisely."

  "Well, before you do that, maybe I can have your input on what I'm presently looking at over there."

  She directed her finger skyward.

  Attila swiveled his head, responding immediately to the seriousness of her tone.

  The spaceport lay to the west of the makeshift town. They had driven immediately south. Coming down on incandescent impellers was a starship, flashing in its own exhaust and in the exultant sun at its zenith.

  "A moment."

  There was a click and hum as Attila's oculars focused on the object and made the appropriate telescopic adjustment Attila had shown her some of the mechanical aspects of his composition. All truly impressive. Hidden compartments. Perhaps even hidden weapons? He even claimed that portions of his body could operate independently of one another-by remote control. At. his more exasperating moments, Machiko sometimes felt like testing this out with her sword.

  "Well?"

  "Impatience is not a virtue of a warrior."

  "My humanity is leaking. So . . . spill."

  "Your metaphors are mixed."

  "Come on."

  "It's a most curious spaceship, Machiko Noguchi. Some kind of KX model."

  "KX models..." She whistled. "Those are exclusive yachts."

  "Indeed."

  "Why would anyone who owns a KX want to come to this godforsaken planet?" wondered Machiko Noguchi.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  It didn't take - long for her to find out.

  "Well," said Livermore Evanston, hoisting his own glass of fine wine to his guest, "here's to health, happiness, and a mutually beneficial business arrangement."

  Machiko looked at him suspiciously. She sniffed the brimming crystal glass of startling red he'd just poured. Superb. This, coupled with the foie gras, would just about make her gourmet quotient for the year. Nonetheless, she managed a noncommittal expression.

  "I only know your name and that you zoom around in a big private starship. As for business arrangements, that remains to be seen."

  He smiled, his red cheeks glowing like cheery Christmas bulbs. His merry eyes were wide and open and seemingly wanted to hide absolutely no secrets.

  "Oh, I think what I've got for you,
my dear, will be of emphatic interest."

  She sipped the wine. Truth in advertising on this. It was the best burgundy that had ever crossed her lips, a glow of grapey warmth with a dry yet clever finish.

  She took another sip, though, just for the alcoholic content.

  "May I sit?"

  "Certainly."

  He gestured to the streamlined though well appointed seat before her. Everything on this ship was sleek and streamlined, but with touches of quality and class that could come only from wealth.

  She sat, and the cushioned chair was very comfortable indeed, ergonomically accommodating her body.

  "More wine?"

  "Why not?"

  She put her glass out and had it topped off.

  "Excellent stuff, no?"

  "I see nothing on this ship that's not excellent."

  "I'm so happy you could take the time to come here and visit me."

  She shrugged. "I miss out on a frozen dinner, my vid, and my robot. You owe me a lot."

  "An attractive woman like you, not being wined and dined on the evening of a weekend. Somehow the very notion appalls me. I am happy that coincidence brought me here today."

  She took another sip and leaned over, all politeness wiped from her face now, replaced by a pure business expression.

  "So. Let's cut to the chase."

  "Gladly." He sipped at his glass. "I have an offer for you, a business proposition, that I think you will find most interesting."

  She leaned back to listen.

  When she and Attila had returned to her apartment, there was a message waiting on her communications module. It was a man's voice, requesting her to return the call to a certain number.

  She did not return the call.

  She had a bath. Time was a luxury, and always after a strenuous workout she took the chance to have a languid bath, filled with scented oils and topped with delicious bubbles. She'd never taken time for them as a corporate ramrod in those frenetic pre-Ryushi days. Just quick showers. Her baths on Ryushi had been generally cold water. And with the Hunters . . . well, they seldom took baths, and so she'd just learned to live with her own true grit.