Read Online Pygmalion Unbound by Sam Kepfield - Free Book Online Page B

then she was at the tree, vaulting, somersaulting over it on pure reflex, landing behind the three and snapping the rifle from one of them, falling back and dropping to her knees and getting off seven shots, scored as mortal, before the three had a chance to fully turn around to face her.
    “You’re dead,” she said flatly, standing.
    “You’re not supposed to — ” one of the men, a dark-skinned corporal, said incredulously.
    “Fight back? My programming’s changed. Give me the weapons. All of them.” They hesitated. She jabbed at one of them with the rifle. “Now.”
    They complied, handing over their rifles and one 9mm automatic with holster. “And the comm units.” She put one of units in her ear, crushed the other two in her hand, and quickly fastened the 9mm holster to her belt. She disabled the rifles, removing the laser batteries and hurled them into the scrub brush, and jammed the rifles into the dirt barrel first. She turned and disappeared into the trees.
    Topo maps in her mind, current position here , good positions for ambush here , a butte over there perfect for observation and a rough trail up the back here — programming took over, tactical manuals wired into her, directive — survival:primarygoal:eliminate enemy forces. She broke through the tree line, heading for the butte.

    A bespectacled corporal hunched over a glowing laptop screen. “Lost Conway’s squad.”
    Danner, who had been standing under the tent, talking with the two generals, paused and turned, a puzzled look on her face. Crane stood beside her. Kelly and Franklin were off by themselves, avoiding the uniforms.
    “Lost?”
    “All but one comm unit and rifle disabled. No responses.”
    “Malfunction? Dead? Injured?” Her voice raised in pitch.
    “Can’t tell. The sensors registered simulated lethal hits just before they went offline. After that…”
    “Shit — ” Danner whispered. She had been at Aberdeen Proving Grounds four years ago when a robotic gun carriage had malfunctioned, the target acquisition software mistaking the civilian and military observers for the downrange targets. Three dead, twenty injured, and the project shelved in the wake of the avalanche of bad publicity.
    “Software problem?” Danner asked.
    “She’s not programmed for offensive action,” Crane said. “She knows they’re not armed.”
    “Warn the other units. She may be dangerous,” Danner said.
    “We don’t know she’s done them any harm.”
    “I’m not taking chances,” Danner replied curtly.

    “Here she comes,” Gutierrez said. “No bra — man, look at them titties bounce.”
    “Get your mind on the mission, Gutierrez,” groused Sergeant Walter George. They were concealed, with three other soldiers, behind scrub brush on the top of the butte.
    “She is the mission. I’m scouting the territory.” Gutierrez leered, went back to watching the black-clad woman who was now about two hundred yards from the ridge. “Hey, she’s got an M4 on her.”
    “Hardly evens it up,” Corporal Jason Veach said.
    “They didn’t say nothing about her attacking us. Just supposed to get past us.”
    “She’s headin’ up the back.” George gave a signal, and the five men rose into a crouch and hurried to the western edge of the butte, found a rock outcropping for cover, and waited.
    “The hell is she?” Gutierrez whispered.
    “Give her a minute,” George said, flicking the safety off his M4.
    A soft whine and lights began flashing on George’s wrist comm unit. Four red flashing lights, four dead grunts. He turned around and saw the girl standing there in a perfect Weaver stance with the 9mm. She holstered the gun quicker than George would have believed possible.
    “Up,” she commanded. “Hand over the comms. And the guns. And those,” she pointed to the small spheres hanging from Gutierrez’s equipment harness. Still surprised, the five complied. She ground the earpieces to bits under her boot. Her delicately fingered