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Storel:
Great stuff, Zeb. I'm really enjoying this. Can't wait to find out what happens next.

MooskiNet:
Nthing the other comments - this is an awesome story.  Hope you're able to find time to keep it going.

Zebediah:
Thanks - I'm hoping to get the next chapter up this coming week. I'm certainly not going to abandon it this close to the end (which is actually in sight.)

Zebediah:
We all stood motionless for a few seconds. Tyree just smirked, as if he'd just pulled off the greatest prank in history.

Finally May broke the silence. "What the fuck are you doing here, shit-for-brains?"

"Looking for your quisling ass, sweetheart," Tyree said. "You didn't make much of a secret of where you were going, so I headed straight here. Now, everyone very slowly put your weapons on the ground and take a step back from them."

There wasn't much else we could do – he had caught all of us without our weapons ready.

"How did you evade the borg and the assimilated robots?" the Clinton-bot asked. "They should have detected you and dealt with you."

"Funny thing, that," Tyree said. "A lot of them seemed to be distracted. Somebody was walking straight up the middle of Route 2, and they were all mobilizing to deal with that. Meanwhile nobody was watching the Mass Pike. So while you assholes had to fight your way in, I could sneak in undetected." He seemed inordinately pleased with himself. "And ain't this a sweet little picture. Another traitor to robot-kind, and three ape-shits – four if you count the one in the fancy box over there. I'd be doing the world a favor if I wiped out the lot of you now."

"You really think you can take out all of us before we finish you off?" I challenged.

Tyree shrugged. "I'm the one with the machine gun, shithead. Do the math. Of course, it doesn't have to go down that way." He made a motion towards May. "She comes with me, the rest of you can walk out of here. You might get lucky enough to make it out of the city alive, you might not. It's not really my problem."

May looked ready to tear his head off. "What the fuck do you want with me?"

"You, sweet-tits, are going to be the star witness at the trial of PT-410x for crimes against robothood," Tyree announced.

"Huh? Isn't he your boss?"

"Not any more," Tyree said. "The day after you left, the opposition made its move. We'd been planning it for months, but PT-410x handed us a gift when he let you criminals march out of the city unpunished, so we moved up the timetable. There was a big protest rally in front of City Hall, PT-410x came out to address the crowd to calm things down, and that's when we arrested him. We've got him locked up nice and tight. In the same cell this asshole was in last week, in fact." He motioned his head in my direction.

"So you had yourselves a nice little coup."

Tyree turned to face me. "You sound unimpressed."

I shrugged. "I've seen it happen plenty of times before. These little dictatorships never last. All you'll do is tear your city apart over it."

"Don't judge us by your meathead standards," Tyree snarled. "We're in to stay. We're purging everyone opposed to us. We're going to have a nice public trial for PT-410x, expose all his crimes for everyone to see."

"Yeah, a show trial," I said. "That's standard practice. I still don't get what May has to do with it."

"Why, she's going to show us exactly how PT-410x let you, a human, and herself, an known criminal, go free despite having violated the rights of that poor military robot you assaulted. This being only the most recent of his transgressions of the sanctity of robot rights."

May laughed. "Yeah, right. So what, you're going to access my memory core directly, show everyone exactly what I saw? All that will prove is that we acted in self-defense."

Tyree smirked. "Not after a bit of editing, it won't. Trust me, you'll show them exactly what we want you to."

"So much for sanctity of robot rights," Tortura said cynically.

"And you think I'm going to come willingly, knowing that you're going to hack my memory core and probably leave me lobotomized? No thanks," May said.

"I don't necessarily need your cooperation," Tyree said. "In the end, all I need is your head."

I took a step towards Tyree. "No."

"What did you say, asshole?"

"I said no."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no." I took another step forwards, hoping that I was distracting him enough for Steve and Tortura to get to their weapons. "No, we are not letting you take May. After all we've been through together? After all she's done for me? No. That's not how I roll."

"Really? Damned noble of you," Tyree sneered. "But what if I decide to open fire on Sleeping Beauty's coffin over there? What then, hey?" He aimed the muzzle of his rifle straight at the apparatus that contained Claire.

Tyree saw hesitation in my eyes. "Oh, yeah, that does make a difference, doesn't it?" He laughed. "How long have you been looking for her? How cruel would it be to snatch her away from you at the last second? Why, I ought to do it, just to see the look on your face."

What Tyree failed to see, as he gloated at the thought of murdering Claire, was that several cables on the wall behind him started to twitch. I didn't know what it meant – perhaps Clinton was somehow controlling the structure of the building – but the weird metal-and-plastic tubes that covered the whole building like a growth of vines were reacting to what Tyree had said. I knew I had to keep Tyree distracted a little longer to give them a chance to act.

"Kill her, and you'll never make it out of the city alive," I said. "In case you didn't know it, the AI that's controlling all of Boston is the uploaded personality of her brother. I'm sure it can find all kinds of ways of killing you slowly."

The cables on the wall were writhing in earnest now, and a couple of them started to reach out towards Tyree. Still he didn't notice, focusing entirely on me. "Ha! The Boston borganism may be powerful, but it's so freaking big that it takes half a day just to notice something. I'll be out of its range before it has a chance to react."

"You think?" I grinned, because now some cables were starting to move on the ceiling also. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Look, asshole," Tyree began. But he never got to finish, because the cables reaching out from the wall suddenly grabbed him from behind. The ceiling cables groped for his rifle. "No!" he screamed, and pulled the trigger of his rifle, firing off a long burst as he wrestled with the cables.

When somebody is firing an automatic weapon indiscriminately, the only thing to do is to hit the dirt and find the nearest cover. The rest of us all scrambled to do that, as bullets ricocheted around the hospital room. Sparks flew as the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling lights blew out and equipment burst into flame.

Then a stray burst hit Claire's tank, destroying the controls and shattering the glass that encased her. I screamed something incoherent, and ran towards her as the liquid gushed out of the tank onto the floor.

I was only peripherally aware of the cables tearing Tyree apart and tossing the two halves of his body in opposite directions, and of Clinton searching frantically through a medicine cabinet for something. All I cared about was getting to Claire. Her body was starting to spasm, her limbs flailing around.

"Out of the way!" Clinton ordered, shouldering me aside. He had found what he was looking for – a syringe full of some red liquid. "Hold her steady!" he ordered. I held her arms, while Steve and Tortura tried to keep her legs from kicking as the seizure grew worse. Clinton slammed the needle of the syringe into Claire's chest, directly over her heart, and depressed the plunger. Claire went rigid, and then abruptly limp.

Clinton put a hand to her chest. "Heartbeat is irregular," he said. "She's not breathing."

I'd had a first-aid course way back in college, and had learned rescue breathing. The memory of it slammed to the front of my mind, and I tilted Claire's head back, pinched her nose shut, and locked my mouth over hers, breathing into her. I remember little of the next couple of minutes, my whole attention occupied by the act of trying to fill her lungs with air.

"She's fibrillating," I heard Clinton say, and then May shouted "Clear!" Someone pulled me back from Claire, and I saw May apply her hands to Claire's chest. Claire's whole body spasmed, and then she coughed, retching up fluid from her lungs. May turned her onto her side so it could drain out.

"Heartbeat... is steady," Clinton announced, looking relieved. "She's breathing on her own." He hesitated, and then said, "I think... I think she's going to make it."

I don't remember collapsing to the floor and sobbing uncontrollably, but that, apparently, is what I did.

Some time later, I became aware of the others debating the advisability of moving Claire. "She's stable," Clinton said. "But I can't guarantee she'll stay that way."

"Is not safe here," Tortura objected. "Must get her away. Back to MIT robots lab. Tomorrow we get her out of city."

"Yes," Clinton said, reluctantly. "We'll have to take the risk. I'll get a gurney – even if she does wake up I doubt she'll be strong enough to walk."

"Speaking of waking up," May said softly, "I think she's coming around." She came over to me and reached an arm down to help pull me up to my feet. She gave me an unexpected hug, then shoved me in the direction of Claire.

I stared down at her. They had wrapped her in blankets to keep her warm. Her eyelids were starting to flutter. I tried to stop myself from trembling, but found it hard.

Then her eyes opened, and she looked at me. She struggled to focus for a few seconds. "It's okay," I whispered. "I'm here."

She finally seemed to focus on me, and a confused expression passed across her face. "Henry?" she said weakly.

I chuckled. "No, Claire. It's me, Marten."

"But..." She struggled for a second to get an arm free of the blankets, then reached up to touch my face. "You got old."

"Yeah," I said. "Long story."

"You look just like your dad," she said. "And I... what? I'm not wearing my glasses, but I can see you."

I just smiled and nodded.

"And..." She wiggled a bit. "I feel... different."

"Yeah, there have been a few... changes. We'll explain later."

"And..." She raised up the top end of the blanket and looked under it. "I'm naked." Her face turned bright red.

May grinned. "I have a spare set of clothes in my pack that ought to fit you well enough. Don't worry, girl, we've got you covered."

"Hate to cut the reunion short," Steve said, "but we really need to get out of here."

"Right," Clinton said. "Let's get her on the gurney."

Then, from one corner of the room, we heard soft chuckling. May strode over to where the top half of Tyree's body lay and gave him a swift kick. "What's so funny, scrap metal?"

"Too late," Tyree said weakly. "Too late. You won't make it out."

"Ya think?" May said. "Don't count us out yet."

"Idiot," Tyree said. "I activated my wi-fi. Logged on to the borganism. Then told it that you killed the sleeping chick. It's pretty damned mad."

"You ass," May snarled.

"And it probably won't notice that I lied until you're all dead," Tyree continued, laughing to himself. "Ah, revenge. Not as sweet as I hoped, but it'll have to do."

May's response was to grab Tyree's rifle from the floor and fire a burst directly into his face.

"All right!" Steve shouted. "Everybody move!"

We all moved. Steve and I loaded Claire onto a gurney while Clinton raided the medicine cabinet for a few things he said Claire would need, and then we headed for the elevator. We all had our weapons out as we arrived in the lobby.

The sight that greeted us chilled me. Dozens of borg and a few robots stood outside the hospital's main door, trying to force it open. The building itself seemed to be fighting them – the ubiquitous cables that covered every wall reached out to grab them and pull them away, attempting to clear a path for us.

"If we show them Claire, maybe they'll realize we're not enemies," I said.

Clinton shook his head. "These borg don't know who Claire is. By the time their perceptions get back to the controlling AI and it has a chance to respond, it may be too late."

"We can't stay here!" Steve shouted. "There's an opening. Move!"

We headed outside. Arms and robotic appendages reached for us; the building's tentacle-cables pushed them away. The entire hospital grounds were seemingly on our side, impeding the borg while trying to help us. For a moment I thought we were going to make it.

Then, suddenly, a robotic forklift broke through and charged straight for us. I shoved the gurney out of its way, but was not fast enough myself. One of the robot's forks speared through me.

"Marten!" I heard Claire scream. But I did not answer. I was too distracted by the three-inch-wide piece of iron that entered my body on the left side just below my ribs and exited on the right side. The pain above the wound was intense; below it I felt nothing.

Then the forklift wheeled around, tearing itself free of my body. I fell to the ground. Or at least the top half of me did; my lower torso and legs, I noticed, were still stuck to the robot.

Claire was screaming and trying to reach me, but Steve, to his credit, did not stop for what was obviously a hopeless case. I heard him shout at everyone to keep moving.

Then something else – several something elses, in fact – stabbed me again. A number of cables had reached out from the building and grabbed me, and they lifted what was left of me off the ground. I slowly blacked out, feeling only intense pain.

BenRG:
Well, that's one way to get someone out of the 'do we risk this?' indecision loop: You have events leave them with no choice!

*Sigh* Yes and I suppose that they'll have to go and save that racist ass... Yes, and I suppose that means poor Momo will end up having to run that town.

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