Duncan Long CompuServe ID# 72707,3525 Copyright (C) 1993 by Duncan Long. All rights reserv

Duncan Long
CompuServe ID# 72707,3525



Copyright (C) 1993 by Duncan Long.  All rights reserved.




                         ADAM'S OFFSPRING

                          In the future, 
          The structure of the human body will change.  
             Human beings will exist in many forms.  
           A person may be formed of recombinant genes--
         Or even molded from stainless steel and plastics.

                              Part I

      It's probably a trap, Drognir thought, his two yellow cat eyes
glowing in the dim illumination.  He stepped away from the controls
of the stargate and entered the shimmering surface of its archway. 
There was a momentary flash of nausea, and resistance, as if he were
frozen in a congealing wall of black amber, and then he broke
through the energy field, striding across light years, his
iridescent skin shimmering in the dim light.  Within a minute he had
traveled halfway across his galaxy, within the warped space inside
the stargate.  
      Drognir was a fixer, one of the rare human beings that was
often called upon to help the artificial intelligence overlords
ruling the 23rd Century.  His job entailed unraveling puzzles the
robotic problem solvers found too minor, or too messy, to handle. 
But today's task was different from the others he'd been called upon
to solve.  
      "All our reasoning says it should be impossible," Nishdare
2654, Drognir's overlord had told him during the hastily called
audience in the being's sanctuary only an hour before.  "Your
acquaintance seems to have invented a readily transportable
disassemblier that doesn't produce excess energy when breaking
molecules.  He has twice used the device to completely destroy the
guard bots sent to take him.  Now he has told us we have one last
chance to obtain his secret--if we pay his price and send a courier
to Yelreb III."
      Drognir said nothing, mulling over the ramifications of such
a weapon if it really existed. 
      "This device suggests a whole new line of physics," the
overlord continued, his voice echoing in the dimly lit hall, which
was totally devoid of furniture.  His holographic image shimmered as
he seemed to uncomfortably shift its position where it hung, seeming
to sit in mid-air.  "It would mark the first real human innovation
since AI systems were initiated nearly two centuries ago."
      The fixer said nothing, trying to control his emotions so his
anger wouldn't register on the monitors that lined the sanctuary. 
While he knew Nishdare was only stating the facts and meant no
slight, the thought that humanity had invented nothing of value in
two centuries stung Drognir deeply.  Finally he spoke, his voice
emotionless.  "But Gar is an immortal.  How could he use such a
weapon without his circuitry being affected?"
      "Another mystery that our physics says is impossible--unless
it is remote controlled.  Such a narrow band of energy, so
focused...   And his background suggests no talent in the area of
physics--we have examined his records.  Of course intelligence is
cheap to purchase these days, there's almost no limit to the
expansion that he might have snapped into his skull.  But even so--
it appears to be a total breakthrough in technology.  
      "One faction of our projection banks thinks he must have
stumbled onto some alien technology," the AI added.
      Drognir knew speculation was something the machines were good
at and could do endlessly; so he decided to cut off his master
before he reeled off any more theories.  "And my job is to meet Gar
on Yelreb III and take the device?" 
      "Correct," the machine answered, its unblinking eyes regarding
its servant.  "You may destroy Gar if you wish and keep the gem, in
addition to your wage.  Or you may pay off his ransom demand in
exchange for his secret.  All we need is his secret or the device;
the cost is paltry for such technology and we would be glad to
obtain it either way.  No doubt you would find the latter more
agreeable than destroying an old friend."
      No doubt, Drognir thought.  He knew that AIs never joked; they
regarded humor as a human weakness.  How out of touch with humanity
the AI overlords are, he reflected.  
      Of course Gar wasn't really the friend the fixer once knew;
the real Gar had committed suicide.  His personality continued on as
an "immortal"--an android with an AI brain copied from the deceased
human being's memories, rapidly removed from his dying brain.  The
immortal was a good copy, impossible to distinguish from the
original.  His skin felt warm and all his reactions and words were
Gar's; but Drognir had never been able to forget the body of the
original Gar, unceremoniously dumped into a disposal chute.  
      So perhaps the AI isn't so wrong after all, the fixer had
thought, turning and leaving the sanctuary, since it was obvious the
meeting was over.  Perhaps he would kill his old friend.  Perhaps it
would be easy to exterminate the bogus Gar, knowing that he was only
a machine that pretended to be a man.  
      Or was there still too much of the ghost of the man in the
machine that impersonated him?
      "That's a good question," Drognir muttered, nearing the end of
the stargate's passage.  He shoved through the syrupy force field
and strode from the portal, shifting his vision into the infrared
region for better coverage as he carefully studied his surroundings
for any sign of danger.  
      His scan revealed no warm-blooded creature nearby except for
a small rat-like animal that scampered away at the man's approach. 
No other living thing in sight.
      Yelreb III, as always, was nearly deserted without even a
sightseer about.  Only an experimental station occupied by hobbyists
lay some ninety kilometers to the south, near the rim of the
shadows.  He was alone with the ruins of the once-great civilization
resting silently around him, painted in shades of gray and black. 
      He glanced upward toward the giant black planet that eternally
eclipsed the nearby star, shrouding Yelreb III with only the faint
corona and light from a nearby gas nebula, keeping the outer planet
from being plunged into total darkness.  Drognir had visited Yelreb
III's lone city before and had never had any desire to come back. 
His AI masters had ordered him to wipe out a coven of pukers engaged
in more than the usual joy crimes, serious enough to spur the
overlords to order the fixer's actions.  Now he had returned to meet
with Gar, to steal or buy the immortal's secret, killing him if
necessary.  
      He strode out of the pool of electric light surrounding the
stargate, the thick muscles of his genetically altered two-meter
frame rippling as he crept along the terraced courtyard.  The paved
thoroughfare stretched into the distance like a narrow canyon in a
mountain range of buildings, his footsteps echoing off the rough
granite walls.  A moaning wind sweeping through the spiraling towers
high above him.  
      As another of the tiny rodents scurried into the deeper
shadows, Drognir realized he couldn't recall having seen any such
animal during his previous visit.  Probably sneaked through the
stargate, he decided.  Dandelions and rats seemed to inhabit the
known universe, thanks to their abilities to smuggle themselves
through the gates.
      There was no sign of Gar.  Had the rendezvous been a trick? 
It was very likely; the mechanicals had tried to ambush the immortal
twice before and, both times, all twenty of the guards had
disappeared without a trace.  The burst messages Gar had sent to the
overlords boasted of the effects of his new invention.  The bots had
completely disappeared, but it seemed to Drognir that something
didn't ring true.  
      The fixer neared the Tower of Nothingness, a windowless
building that stretched upward out of sight, the jewel of the Yelreb
III civilization.  Like mankind, the alien culture that had built
the structure had been totally disrupted by their contact with the
AI overlords following the arrival of the first human explorers
reaching the planet's surface.  Within a decade, the worm-like
Yelrebs were dispersed across the galaxy, absorbed into the fabric
of the Federation, seduced by the AI's promise of a long, carefree
existence.  And now Yelreb III was unoccupied.
      Drognir shifted his vision into the infrared and checked for
the heat signature of living beings.  He perceived nothing but more
of the rodent-like animals retreating into the shadows.  Knowing he
might have a long wait ahead of him, he lowered his metabolism to
conserve energy.  The overlords would expect him to linger if Gar
didn't show immediately and the fixer hadn't eaten or slept for
several days.  He hunkered down in the shadows and waited.
      The planet's radio bands were empty except for the telemetry
from the research station.  The fixer reviewed the mem-chip library
in his head, but nothing really interested him.  
      Boredom reigned; time ticked away:  Ten minutes, half an hour,
finally an hour, universal time. 
      Then there was a fluttering to his left.  
      Drognir tensed, reflexively switching on his electronics so
his enhanced vision, targeting, and ID template systems were online.

He whirled around, his pistol snaking into his hand from its hidden
wrist holster.  
      There was nothing in the infrared spectrum.  A mechanical?  Or
perhaps Gar had found a way to mask his body heat.
      There!  
      His vision zeroed in on a plasfax sheet tumbling end over end
down the courtyard and into the blackness behind a low wall.  The
pistol retracted from his hand into its holster as he sighed grimly
to himself.  I just witnessed a major event on this lifeless planet,
he told himself.  
      He tried to relax, realizing his environment was oppressive
and definitely had him spooked.  Toggling on his clock, it displayed
the time in his right eye.  Five minutes and I'm leaving, he
promised himself as he leaned back against the rough gray wall of
the building, leaving all his systems activated.  
      Gar should have been there an hour ago.  Something must have
gone wrong.  Or perhaps it had simply been a test to see if the
overlords were going to try to trap the immortal.  And how many such
tests would be needed before Drognir would actually meet with Gar? 
      Hell, if I were Gar I'd be on the other side of the galaxy,
trying to buy new ID, the fixer thought.  The AIs wouldn't quit
until they had the secret if it led to some new technology.  
      And how had Gar created such a device?  His hobbies had
included magic and biochemistry--not physics.  None of it made
sense.
      An animal howled in the distance and the rodents scurried into
the shadows.  A yellowed paper, abandoned by a thoughtless tourist
tumbled across the courtyard.  The five minutes were up.  
      Drognir quick-scanned the area once more, his footsteps
echoing from the courtyard walls as he crept back toward the
brightly-lit gate.  He activated the charge ID in the end of his
finger as he approached the archway.  He touched his finger to the
control slot. 
      And nothing happened.
      Drognir attempted activating it again, but the unit in his
finger refused to energize the gate.  Acutely aware that he stood in
the open, exposed by the bright lamp above the gate, he tried a
third time and then ran a quick check to be sure the ID circuits in
his finger were working.  
      The ID circuits weren't malfunctioning.  Deactivating his
finger chip, he thumbed the emergency button on the stargate
itself.  The unit blinked once and went out.  Slowly he surveyed the
area around him once again for any sign of life.  
      Nothing but more of the scurrying, rodent-like animals. 
Glancing back at the stargate, he suppressed the urge to kick the
controls, knowing that damaging them would just add to the delay.  
      He'd have a long enough wait.  Even if a repair crew had been
sent when he'd activated the emergency button, they would have to
fly over land from the nearest stargate--probably at the
experimental station.  He checked his info bits--yes, he was right. 
Ninety-four point three kilometers.  It would be a wait of at least
a half hour at best.
      A noise.  He amplified his hearing and filtered out the
extraneous noise, capturing the thin whine of a flitter.  Coming
closer, judging by the doppler.  Realizing he was standing out in
the open, Drognir raced across the courtyard, returning to his
previous location, hiding once more in the shadows.  
      Soon, the silver, dish-shaped craft hummed into sight.  Four
meters across, it had a flat passenger deck surrounded by a guard
rail, its top open to the elements.  Its curved side was emblazoned
with the repair logo and two figures sat in the seat of the old
flitter; the aircraft circled once and then settled with a rough
landing, close to the stargate.
      Were they really repairmen?  Drognir thought they surely must
be; it seemed unlikely that Gar go to such an elaborate scheme to
trick him when Drognir might easily have been ambushed as he came
through the gate.  
      Or ambushed me almost anytime afterward as far as that goes,
the fixer thought, cautiously walking out of the shadows across the
courtyard.  For a fleeting moment, he wondered if that were Gar's
secret:  a carefully laid ambush rather than any type of break-
through technology.  Now there's a thought.  That would be just like
Gar; he always liked hoaxes. 
      His attention returned to the two figures who jumped from the
flitter without bothering to lower its ladder.  They stood in the
brightly-lit area surrounding the stargate, apparently unaware of
the fixer.  The man had to be a hobbyist since robotics had brought
an end to human work, now outlawed except for humans engaged in non-
dangerous not-for-profit work--like repairing stargates.  
      The hobbyist was a stocky man with dirty gray hair and a
soiled uniform.  The mechanical was a chromed, badly dented bot in
the old humanoid configuration.  Oddly enough, it wore an equally
dirty jumpsuit.
      "Bloddy 'ell," the man swore in a gruff voice as he removed
the plate from the stargate's controls.  "Retinoid's burned out. 
An' damn if we just used are last replacement last week."
      "Retinoid?" the mechanical said as it cocked its head to one
side and gazed over the man's shoulder.  "I believe you're right."
      "Course I'm right," the gruff-voiced man said, throwing a tool
back into the red tool box lying beside the gate.  "Give me some
room, will ya?" 
      The bot noticed Drognir and swiveled its head around to glare
at him.   it asked over datalink, its body
rotating fluidly under its head so the whole mechanism faced the
approaching fixer.  
       Drognir explained
through the transponder in his throat, communicating with the
machine via an invisible, modulated laser beam.  With the rash of
joy crimes and Neo-Luddites attacks, the fixer knew the bot would be
cautious at the approach of a stranger.   He rapidly exchanged codes
with the machine, letting it know he worked for the AI overlords and
establishing that it did as well.   "So what brought you two here?"
Drognir finally asked aloud, drawing the human checking out the
stargate into the conversation after the being satisfied the two
figures in front of him posed no danger.
      "'Ot?" the gruff-voiced man said, unaware of the silent
exchange that had taken place between his robotic companion and the
fixer.  He glanced up and noticed Drognir for the first time.  
      The fixer steeled himself for the scorn most humans heaped
upon him.  As a recombinant "vatter" rather than a "true blood" and
a servant of the overlords as well, he was hated on sight by most of
the humans he met.  
      "'ello, there," the man said without any trace of animosity. 
"Hearin's goin'.  Didn't 'ear ya come up."  He faced the mechanical.
"You weren't interrogatin' this man over datalink behind my back was
ya?" he admonished the bot.  
      The machine didn't answer but cocked its head to one side.
      The man turned back to Drognir.  "As to yer question, we jist
'appened ta be in 'e area and caught the emergency signal before it
dropped off the air." 
      "How soon can you have the gate repaired?" Drognir asked,
surprised at the man's friendly attitude.
      "You're lucky we were comin' back from Jursa when you 'it 'e
'mergency button," the man replied.  "O'erwise you'd 'ave been 'ere
for a bit."  
      "Can you get the gate back up?" Drognir persisted.
      The mechanical spoke, "We don't have a spare--"
      "I'll do 'uh talkin'," the hobbyist interrupted.  "We don't
'ave uh spare retinoid.  But you can 'itch uh ride with us.  We'll
'ave you back to the post's gate in no time."  He scrutinized the
courtyard as he spoke.
      Drognir saw the flicker of movement that had attracted the
hobbyist's attention.  A pack of the rodent-like creatures loped
across the courtyard and dived into the shadows along the wall near
the stargate.  
      "Bloody 'ell," the man shouted, his eyes darting wildly toward
the pack of animals.  "'Ey're 'oogies 'round 'ere."
      Oogies?  Drognir thought as he watched another pack of the
animals come scurrying toward them.  A rapid search of his data
chips revealed no definition for the word.
      "What are oogies?" the bot asked, equally baffled. 
      "'Oogies!  'Oogies!" the Telee screamed.  "Come on, git into
uh flitter."  He drew a worn needle pistol out of the belt on his
jumpsuit and fired a wild shot into the shadows where the creatures
had vanished.
      The mechanical swiveled in a blur of speed and bounded across
the space toward the flitter and scampered up the slippery side of
the craft.  Not sure of the danger, the fixer rushed toward the
flitter, the hobbyist coming behind him, firing his pistol into the
shadows.  
      The bot supply draped itself back over the railing to give
Drognir a hand.  The man hesitated a moment.  
      "Get up here," the bot ordered him.  
      The fixer grabbed the steel and plastic appendage.  The
machine's grip was strong yet gentle, rapidly lifting him upward.  
      One of the creatures sprang up onto the flitter's guard rail
as Drognir scrambled over; the mechanical released the man's hand
and swiveled gracefully, crushing the beast with its fist and
yelling, "Hurry up, Telee." 
      The man jumped upward with muscles that Drognir realized must
have been strengthened by a life on a plus-G planet.  Telee slung
his arms over the edge of the flitter and scrambled up almost
effortlessly, just ahead of the pack of animals now swarming after
him.  
      "Bloddy 'ell," the man swore, dropping to his knees on the
deck behind the driver's seat.  "I t'ink one of 'em 'oogies got
under my skin." 
      And then Drognir knew what the animals were, even without
consulting his memory chips. 
      Hoogies.  
      He hadn't understood what the man had been saying because of
his thick accent.  Drognir had never seen any of the creatures, but
he'd heard stories and knew how dangerous they were.
      Out of the corner of his eye, the fixer saw the shadow of one
of the animals as it dropped over the edge of the flitter to the
floor beside him.  Tearing his vibraknife from its sheath, Drognir
flicked on the ceramic blade of his weapon, its edge vanishing in a
blur of motion as he faced the creature.
      The hairless green hoogie was small, about the size of a man's
hand and was covered with slime-matted fur.  Its six tiny eyes
gleamed in the dim light and it stood on large, grasshopper-like
legs, poised to leap.  
      Without warning, it sprang into the air, flying at the fixer. 
      The vibrating blade slashed in front of Drognir, blocking the
animal's jump and impaling the squealing creature on the knife, its
green blood spurting into the air.  With disgust, Drognir flicked
the animal over the railing and it tumbled to the pavement below.
      "Help us," the mechanical screamed behind Drognir.  Drognir
turned to see the bot ripping its partner's jumpsuit apart.  "One of
the creatures is in Telee!"
      "'e's in my gut!" the Telee cried.  "I can feel 'im clawing in
my gut!  Never mind me, git the flitter started or we'll never get
out of here."
      Drognir studied the controls.  "What's the activation key
code?" he yelled, beaming the message via datalink at the same time. 
Hell, I don't even see a keypad on this old crate.
      "Damn," Telee screamed, writhing as the lump under the skin
over his belly lurched upward.  "The flitter 'as a mechanical key. 
It's in my pocket."
      "Get back," Drognir shouted to the mechanical, crowding by the
bot and kneeling on the floor of the flitter by Telee.  "You take
care of the hoogies," he ordered the bot as he searched in the man's
two pockets.  
      No key.  
      Frantically, he scrutinized the jumpsuit for other pockets. 
There were none.  
      The lump on Telee's belly lurched upward again and then
vanished under the man's rib cage.  The hobbyist yelped in pain and
coughed up a ribbon of frothy blood.  
      Search for the key later, Drognir told himself.  There was no
time to waste if the man was going to survive.  "Watch what you're
doing," the fixer ordered the mechanical who twirled at superhuman
speed to hammer a hoogie into meat, barely missing the Drognir's
scalp in the process.  
      The fixer turned back toward the human and ripped Telee's suit
apart to expose his whole abdomen.  On the white flesh was a bloody
hole where the creature had chewed through the man's skin near his
navel.  A large bump again appeared on the man's belly.  
      That's good, Drognir thought.  It's headed away from his heart
and lungs.  If it had continued to claw toward upward...   Now the
lump showed exactly where the hoogie was, the skin convoluting as
the animal shifted to tunnel deeper.
      "Oh, nedek!" Telee screamed as he gripped Drognir's arm in
pain, then settled back, sinking into shock.  
      Have to keep him conscious, the Drognir thought.  He'd be less
apt to go into shock if he didn't pass out.  "Stay awake," he yelled
at Telee.  
      "Okay," the hobbyist whispered through ashen lips, his eyes
fluttering open.  
      The bot hammered two more of the animals in rapid succession
sending a spray of green slime splatter onto the back of Drognir's
hands and neck.  Ignoring the mess, the fixer thumbed his vibraknife
to its lowest setting.  
      No time to sterilize it, he decided as he centered its point
over the bump which was again moving toward the man's rib cage. 
Antibiotics would do the job later.  Switching to a higher lens
setting in his eyes, the fixer ignored the sweat streaming down his
forehead and sliced into Telee's leathery skin, cutting a long,
precise incision over the location of the animal.  
      The creature inside Telee peeked out of the fleshy hole and
hissed at the fixer who struck at the same instant with the blade,
severing the animal's head.  He then quickly extracted the rest of
the twitching body from Telee's belly and cast the bloody animal
carcass over the side of the flitter.
      Drognir switched off the vibraknife and unconsciously wiped
the blood and viscera off the blade onto the edge of one of the
flitter's seats while he fought not to vomit.  He resheathed his
knife.  He'd gotten the hoogie, but he could see it had done
terrible damage to its victim and there was little doubt that Telee
was bleeding severely internally.
      "How is he?" the bot asked, popping out a screwdriver-like
appendage on its left hand.  It lanced the blade of the tool through
a group of the animals that were clawing their way over the edge of
the flitter in front of him, then shook them off.  
      "He'll be fine," Drognir said, tearing large strips of
material from Telee's jump suit for an improvised bandage.  The
animal had chewed and burrowed a large track inside Telee,
but--provided he didn't go into shock and they got help soon--he
should survive.
      If we can escape these damned animals, Drognir added, rising
and squashing a red-eyed hoogie under his heel as it scurried across
the floor of the flitter.
      "Here comes another pack of them!" the mechanical shouted as
it speared one of the animals on the screwdriver in its left hand. 
With its other hand it shattered a hoogie that scrambled onto the
fuselage beside it.
      Drognir dragged Telee across the slick deck and leaned him
against the back of the pilot's seat.  "How're you doing?" he asked
the man as he knelt and searched his pockets again, trying to locate
the key.  
      "Been better," the old man said with a forced grin.
      "Kajyar!" the mechanical swore.  "There must be thousands of
them below us now."
      Drognir stood and viewed the stream of animals scuttling in
the courtyard below the flitter.  "Telee," the fixer called to the
wounded man on the deck.  
      The gray-haired man's eyes fluttered.
      "Telee, the key isn't in either of your pockets.  Think. 
Where else could it be?"
      "Not in me pockets?" his eyes glazed over and then focused. 
"The tool chest," he muttered.  "In the tool chest."
      And where is that? Drognir thought as he glanced around the
bare flitter.  Nowhere in the craft.  He slapped at three of the
hoogies that peeked over the edge of the flitter.  The creatures
plummeted off the craft.  
      The fixer leaned over the guard rail to inspect the ground
below.  
      The ground teemed with a carpet of the hoogies, jumping and
milling, trying to discover a way to climb up the slick surface of
the flitter struts.  Only a few managed to scramble up.  But slowly
the mass of churning creatures were forming a slimy chain, piling
atop one another, gradually nearing the open deck of the flitter.  
      If I had been stranded on the ground...  Drognir didn't finish
the thought; Gar had nearly trapped him.  But there wasn't any time
to waste thinking about what might have happened.  Drognir looked
beyond the hoogies.  A few meters away, near the stargate, sat the
red tool box.  The box with the key in it.
      He turned back toward the mechanical.  "We've got to get the
tool chest."
       The mechanical slashed with its blade to chop another
squealing animal, knocking pieces of it back into the courtyard. 
"They can't bother me."  Before Drognir could say anything, the bot
climbed over the handrail of the flitter.  "They're only after flesh
and blood, right?"
      "Normally," Telee said in a low voice.  "But these things're
in a frenzy.  Don't let 'em chew into your control cables.  'Ey have
chromium teeth."
      "I was feeling quite sure of myself until you said that," the
mechanical cracked, its green eyes flashing.  What seemed to be a
metallic laugh echoed from its throat, startling Drognir with the
human-like noise.  
      "Wait a second," Drognir said, his Ruger 4000 pistol slipping
into his hand with the activation of the targeting system in his
skull.  "Let me see if I can clear a path for you.  There aren't
enough projectiles to kill many of them, but we might cut a path."  
      "There's no time to waste," the bot said.  
      "Don't slip in the slime," the fixer warned the bot as it
climbed onto the railing, balancing perfectly on the thin metal
pipe.  The mechanical jumped into the writhing mass of animals below
him, raising a wail of squeals as he flattened the hoogies on which
he landed.
      Drognir fired his pistol, clearing a bloody path ahead of the
mechanical who waded through the animals that nipped at his legs as
he plowed toward the tool box.  He shook his legs as he plodded
ahead, throwing the angry, crying animals to and fro in his wake.  
      Another mass of the animals swarmed from the shadows of the
nearest building.  Drognir swore under his breath and discharged his
weapon into the hoogies that raced toward the bot.  Seeing his shots
had no apparent effect, he swiveled back toward the bot and loosed
another salvo, getting as close to the mechanical as he dared even
with the precise aiming system that coupled his gun to his brain and
eyes.  
      The machine below him continued its struggle toward the tool
box and then, without warning, slipped in the slime, falling with a
jarring crash.  A wave of the creatures swept over the bot and it
vanished beneath them.  The mass of flesh swelled, and the bot rose
to its feet, shivering the animals off its body the way a dog shakes
off water.  
      Drognir spotted two points of infrared light along the railing
near Telee out of the corner of his eye.  Spinning on his heel, the
fixer discharged a volley at the five hoogies that squeezed through
the rungs of the railing.  The needles struck, turning the creatures
into a green mist.  
      Damn things seem to understand how to keep out of sight, he
thought.  Better keep better watch.  And the man has lost
consciousness.  The fixer bent down.  "Telee!  Wake up."
      "'At?" the man asked, with a wild expression on his face. 
"Oh. Okay."  The hobbyist picked up the old pistol that still lay
next to him and fired, hitting a hoogie peeking over the edge of the
deck.
      Drognir checked the bot's progress.  The mechanical knelt in
a sea of hoogies, nearly covered by them, as he groped for the tool
box.  Locating it, the mechanical straightened, rising above the
slimy, hissing animals.  
      "I'm out of ammo," Telee gasped behind Drognir.
      "He's headed back," Drognir said, his eyes riveted on the
mechanical.  "Keep a lookout and holler if you see any more of these
things behind me."
      "Okay."
      The bot forced its way back through the mass, dragging its
left leg.  
      The hoogies have managed to cut through one of its control
cables, Drognir thought as he fired another volley just ahead of the
mechanical.  One more cut like that and the mechanical will be
down.  Drognir continued to snipe at the animals below him, trying
to clear a path in front of the bot until it was directly under
him.  
      "Here!" Drognir yelled, reflexively retracting his pistol into
its wrist holster and leaning down over the side of the guard rail. 
He offered his hand to the mechanical, realizing the bot would be
unable to climb up the side of the craft with its damaged leg while
holding the tool box.  
      Flesh and metal fingertips briefly touched, but neither could
gain a handhold.  
      Drognir leaned farther forward, balanced precariously on the
rail, nearly falling into the seething mass below him.  Locking his
leg under the seat of the flitter and praying that the bench would
hold their combined weights, he yelled "Try again!", ordering the
mechanical which twirled below him, trying to kick and brush away
the whirlpool of hoogies that threatened to severe other of his
control cords.  
      The bot lifted his hand and grasped Drognir's.  
      The fixer strained against the guard rail of the flitter,
marshalling his strength to lift the heavy mechanical.  The seat
groaned and creaked, a pinging marking the loss of one of the screws
holding it to the deck.  The muscle in his leg answered with a snap.
      The bot rose inches into the air until it's good foot grazed
a ring on the side of the craft.  Then it gained a toe hold and
kicked off.  Suddenly the machine was clear of the railing, tumbling
onto the deck beside Drognir.  
      "We can't go on meeting like this," the mechanical whispered
as he tore two wiggling hoogies from Drognir's shoulder.  He
squeezed them into pulps and threw them over the side.  
      "Behind you!" Telee warned.
      Drognir rolled over, drew his pistol, and fired a rapid volley
of shots which killed three of the hoogies peeking through the rungs
of the flitter's railing.  He shot another hoogie near the pilot's
chair. 
      The bot pawed through the chest it had carried aboard; tools
clattered onto the deck.  "Here it is!" he shouted, at the same time
squashing a hoogie with the edge of his free metal hand.  "I can
start it," the bot said, throwing a wrench as he stood.  The heavy
tool clattered across the metal deck and neatly pinned a hoogie
against a rung of the guard rail.  
      The bot limped over to the pilot's chair, slid behind the
craft's control console, and inserted the key into the lock of the
controls.  
      Drognir turned from the bot, firing a last shot before his
pistol beeped a warning that the firearm was empty.  He retracted
the weapon into its holster and tore out his vibraknife with one
quick motion.  Dropping to one knee, he speared the hoogie lunging
toward him.  
      The flitter engine hummed a moment and then became silent
leaving only the sounds of thousands of scrapping claws and the
whimpering squeals of the animals climbing up the side of the ship. 
Then there a clanging filled the air as Telee beat at the hoogies
with a wrench from the tool box.
      "I need some help!" the mechanical called.
      Rising, Drognir saw that the bot was trying to swipe a mass of
snarling hoogies away from the controls of the flitter while
smashing others under his good foot.  
      "Hang on," Drognir said, running forward to stand beside the
pilot's seat.  He slashed with his vibraknife to the right and then
the left, carving the animals running over the controls into
shivering masses of flesh.  
      "By Sheeti's fourteen genitals!" the mechanical swore in
disgust as he shoved away the green slime and crushed, oozing bodies
plastering the flitter's controls.  "Can't see the instrument
panel."  He rubbed the sleeve of his tattered jumpsuit over the
display, clearing it of viscera.  
      The bot initiated the start sequence and the flitter hummed,
shuddered a moment threatening to stop, and then lurched from the
ground.  Drognir lost his balance for a second, then regained his
footing and swept five of the hoogies off the guard rail with his
knife and pulverized another under the heel of his boot.
      He felt a tickling at his stomach but thought nothing of it,
skewering another of the little demons.
      "'Ere's one on you!" Telee screamed.
      Drognir felt a burning pain and gaped down at the rear half of
a wiggling hoogie sticking out of his belly.  With horror, he
realized the creature had snapped its way into his skin so rapidly
that only its long hind legs and tail remained in view, encircled by
a ring of blood that soaked into his jumpsuit.
      The fixer grabbed the animal, barely able to hold onto its
blood-soaked hind legs as it tried to borrow under his skin.  He
dropped the vibraknife which clattered to the deck, and grasped the
animal's legs with both hands, jerking at it and feeling the animal
tug at his intestines in return.  Nearly losing his grasp on the
slippery creature for a moment, Drognir continued to clutch it,
grimacing in pain.  One of the animal's clawed feet snapped off in
his left hand but the fixer continued to grasp its other leg and dug
his left-hand fingers under his skin to get a hold on the animal.  
      In the sticky blood and green ooze he felt the creature's
spinal column.  The man pinched hard with his fingers.  The animal's
small bones snapped and it loosened its hold.  
      The fixer extracted the creature from his belly with a cry of
pain.  Straightening up, he clutched the limp animal in his hand and
squeezed its snapping head with his free hand, ringing its snout
off.  He fought not to throw up as he tossed the disgusting carcass
over the side of the speeding flitter.
      Wiping the blood and slime from his hands onto the front of
his clothing, Drognir leaned against the handrail and checked around
the deck for other of the creatures.  Seeing none, he ripped off the
sleeve of his jumpsuit, not daring to glance at the wound in his
belly for a moment.  He folded the sleeve into a large pressure
bandage and pressed it over the red loop of his small intestine
which hung through the skin where the animal had ripped into his
flesh.  Struggling to keep from fainting from the pain, he shoved on
the bandage, forcing the loop of organ back under his skin.  
      The fixer scanned the deck once more.  There didn't appear to
be any more.  He sat down on the floor beside Telee, who seemed to
have regained some of his color.  
      "We'll be there in about an hour and a half," the bot said
from the pilot's seat.  "I've called ahead; a medical bot will be
meeting us half way."  The mechanical set the controls for automatic
flight and then carefully stepped back to tower over the two
humans.  "I'll keep watch for any hoogies that might have managed to
hang on."
      Drognir closed his eyes for a moment.  He glanced back toward
Telee who had passed out again.  But his color was back; he wasn't
in shock.  "Thanks," the fixer said, relaxing.
      "Thank you," the mechanical replied in a low voice.
      "What?"  Drognir asked, confused at the bot's response. 
Normally mechanicals didn't thank human beings.  The fixer couldn't
remember when he'd ever heard one do such a thing.  He looked
questioningly at the machine, for a moment wondering if it was
malfunctioning.
      "Telee and I are very..." the mechanical started, revolving
his head in a full circle until it again faced Drognir.  "We are
very close.  He's the only friend I have."
      Drognir grunted and closed his eyes again.  A bot with a human
friends?  Or perhaps even a lover?  Machines were becoming
almost--what?  Human, the man decided as he lay back and shivered in
the cold.  
      And no doubt my AI overlords look at the chips and electronics
embedded in me and think I'm almost a mechanical, he told himself,
smirking at the irony of the thought.  His mind wondered a moment
and then he realized he knew what Gar's secret was.  And won't the
AIs be surprised when they find out? 
                               *****
      "I'm sorry," Gar whimpered, suspended above the ground by his
shirt collar.
      "You nearly killed me," Drognir replied, lowering the man to
the ground.  
      "I thought they'd send another band of mechanical goons," the
immortal said, his voice returning to normal as he smoothed his pink
and purple plaid shirt.   Like the original Gar, the android enjoyed
bright color combinations.  That had made him easier to locate in
the  crowd.  "And my hoogies wouldn't have attacked you if you
hadn't gotten close to that mechanical.  They have trouble telling
the difference between flesh and metal once they get into their
frenzy--that's why I always scheduled meets in nearly uninhabited
areas."
      Drognir said nothing.
      "I never would have unleashed my modified hoogies if I'd known
you--of all people--were in the area," Gar added.  "Don't you see--
it was the ultimate hoax." 
      "You have to admit," Gar continued, "I had the AIs fooled.  I
bet they nearly melted down trying to figure out how my new
disrupter worked."  The immortal grew suddenly quiet, his smile
vanishing.  "So are you going to kill me or what?"
      "The overlords said I could," Drognir replied, inching closer
to Gar's frightened face.  Suddenly the fixer extended his hand
toward the immortal.  "Here."  
      "What?" Gar asked, taking the packet and then realizing what
it was.  "The Infirneo gem?"
      "None other--the price you requested in exchange for your
secret."
      "But I don't really have a secret.  The hoogies I bred simply
disassembled the bots, piece by piece, after I'd sabotaged the
stargates so they couldn't escape.  A simple deception.  Do one
thing while you tell your audience you're doing something else."
      "My orders were to obtain your secret," Drognir replied. 
"Killing you is an option I'm not going to exercise--against my
better judgement."
      "Be seeing you then," Gar replied, clutching the packet in his
hand and backing away as if fearful the fixer might change his mind.
      Drognir watched the short man leave.  For a while I felt as if
I were talking to Gar,he mused.  Certainly the android behaved just
the way the original would have, given the same circumstances. 
Where did the man leave off and the machine begin?
      One thing was sure, Drognir thought, turning back toward the
nearest stargate.  The immortal was home free.  The emotionless
overlords never felt any need for revenge; they'd simply absorb the
information, incorporating it into their vast cannon of knowledge,
preventing the same mistake from being repeated in the future.  A
priceless gem was a worthless bauble as far as they were concerned. 
      The fixer shook his head.  It wasn't often that a human being,
albeit an immortal, got the better of the AI overlords.  And just
with skillful misdirection, he mused.  
                               *****
      Some maintained the AI overlords were the next step up in the
evolutionary line; mechanicals, though originally conceived by man,
were superior to their creators and were the new inheritor's of Adam
and Eve's legacy.  
      As Drognir turned to leave, recalling the ransom he'd just
paid for Gar's worthless information, a grin flickered across his
features.
=================================================================
      Duncan Long is a freelance writer with nearly fifty books in
print including the science fiction novel, ANTI-GRAV UNLIMITED, with
Avon books and the hi-tech, action/adventure Night Stalkers series
with HarperCollins.  Long is a regular user of CompuServe.
      Currently Long is looking for a publisher one of his novels
which is based on the characters in this story.