Everything in Suzy’s dawn-washed parking lot happened in slow-motion, yet faster than anyone could change. Chris hoisted his M16, the others their Fusion rifles, at five faceless, man-shaped silhouettes. The Squires gleamed the sunburst orange of morning. One of them dragged a stout woman in binds made from its own altered arm. She bucked her shoulders, which proved useless, until she was too tired to move. Gendric fired first, from the cover of Suzy’s car. His white plasma bolt blasted a fistful of nanocomputers from a Squire’s shoulder. The thing didn’t bother to turn. Instead, it drew in close to the Squire dragging the woman. Selene and Lee bombarded two rogue Squires on the fringe of the formation with bright beams, but no shots connected. The robots’ nanocomputers opened holes for the shots to pass through with no damage.
“Tim, get inside!” Chris bellowed, when he noticed him shaking by the motel doors. But Tim was frozen. He was stuck between how he could help and how he could escape.
“It’s like they know us already,” said Morgan. She tested her theory with a shot at one of the Squire’s legs. The whole limb absorbed into the machine’s body for Morgan’s ray to singe the ground, then reformed to run.
“They’re learning,” Tim realized, “From us, from each other.”
“Let’s overwhelm them, before they learn too much!” said Chris. He shoved Tim behind a garbage can, though none of the Squires had yet returned fire. Chris leveled the neck of his rifle at the legs of the Squire with the poor woman in its grasp. Her exhausted h
eels dragged out on the pavement behind her now. “Take out the legs on the one with the girl!” said Chris. He tugged back his trigger.
A clip of bullets and four canisters of Fusion plasma emptied at the Squire, but never reached it. Every one of its companions melded into a moving shield behind it, so thick that even the endless drill of Fusion beams couldn’t burn all the way through. The woman’s screams quieted as the Squires neared the glowing blue wall of the FOS jammers. Chris and the others moved after them while they reloaded.
“Wait!” Five barrels turned on the voice. They almost fired on the sandy-haired man, even with his hands up in surrender. What stayed the unit’s triggers was that they’d seen his face before, through a screen.
“Robin Finch?” Chris questioned, keeping the man at the nose of his rifle.
“Yes!” Finch panted. He took a cautious step out from his hiding spot, beside the motel, when he saw the five glancing back at the fleeing Squires. “Don’t follow them. It’s a trap. She’s not the first person I’ve seen them drag off, or the first I’ve seen people get ambushed trying to intervene.” Still, Chris couldn’t help another look back at her. It was something about the weakness in her legs, sliding across the pavement. It could have been Sheba, if this had happened in Beijing.
“How did they get through the FOS jammers?” Chris jabbed his rifle at Finch, not convinced by his airborne hands. His Precinct uniform was torn to scraps in more places than one. Blood streaked his forehead and hands.
“Same way they’re going through them now, which is to say I have no idea.” said Finch. Chris watched the Squires step through the jammer-screens. The light did little more than tinge them blue for a second. The robots vanished into the shadows between the steel towers of Shanghai. The woman’s screams echoed out to nothing.
“Decided sneaking up on us while we were in a firefight was the best way to reach out?” Selene prodded Finch. More disarming than any words were the streaks of hot water that cut the dust on Finch’s cheeks.
“Would you stop pointing those at me? I’ve been running all night...hoping I’d find you guys… I would have waited, but you’d have gone after them and died!” he cried. Chris watched the tremble of Finch’s raised biceps. He could hardly keep them up another second.
“Weapons down, guys. It’s alright, Finch. Lee. Get a drone in the air,” instructed Chris to his friend. Lee had the silver saucer in the air in seconds. An ocular laser similar to TE-Les’ sliced out from the wrap-around screen on the outside of the drone while it hovered off to the city. Chris turned back to Finch. “You’re safe… for now. I’d like to know just how you managed that, though.”
“My partner,” whimpered Finch. He wiped blood and tears on his torn sleeve.
“DA-Vos?” said Tim, stepping forward.
“Yeah.”
“Finch,” Chris called his eyes with a firm, but gentle command, “Can you bring us to him?” The three-week-seasoned cop could do little more than nod.
Chapter Six: The Yellow Squire
“DA-Vos?” Finch warbled, at the front of their group. The sun hadn’t yet crested Beijing’s steel apartment towers. “DA-Vos?” he tried again. His face flashed blue as Finch crossed the threshold of the FOS jammers. “He was just around here… he must have hidden from those other Squires.”
“Mr. Finch?” a digital voice came through an open doorway beside them. A tall, dark form slid out, it’s arm swirling into a Fusion rifle barrel. By the time the inside of it lit, Chris and his unit had their own weapons up, ready to fire.
“DA-Vos, it’s alright! Everyone arms down!” Finch screamed. DA-Vos complied straight away. His cannon smoothed out to a neutral tentacle. When Chris and the others kept their barrels up, a yellow light glowed across the robot’s face. “DA-Vos is the only reason I’m alive! He’s just scared!” Finch yelled at them.
“Scared?” murmured Lee. His rifle tilted down. In DA-Vos’ faceless face, Lee and the others could see Finch was right, little as they could believe it. Only Chris kept his weapon up.
“What are you scared of, DA-Vos?” said Chris.
“Everything,” said DA-Vos. Chris’s eyes narrowed on the machine’s shiny face. His voice came through shaky, scratchy. “This loud city...my function… death… I don’t know how you do this.” Chris grunted and forced his rifle down. Even he couldn’t keep aim at a blubbering, metal child.
“He… wasn’t like this before the massacre at the office,” said Finch. He clasped the Squire’s cold shoulder. DA-Vos’ face-light faded back to its default lavender.
“That… really shook you, huh?” said Tim, making his way through the unit. He stopped inches from DA-Vos. He had to tilt his head up to, meet his own reflection in the robot’s reflective face. A tiny yellow spark blipped in the center of the purple.
“Yes,” said DA-Vos.
“Why is that?” said Tim, head tilted. In that moment he showed compassion for a machine, and in so seemed more human than he had to Chris before. DA-Vos’ head turned at Finch first.