Rising Storm

machine that can do that and know it's doing it. You know what I mean?'

Colvin and Warren exchanged nervous glances.

'A machine like that could control thousands of planes, thousands of miles apart.

And not just planes, either, but tanks and gun emplacements and even battle

robots.' Clea sat back, having noticed long since the subtly appalled expressions on their faces. 'Not detailed control—it would be a distributed system—but a strategic artificial intelligence… Is something wrong?'

'No, no. It sounds fascinating,' Warren reassured her. 'But… well, perhaps at some future date we could look into something like that. But right now you've put so much into developing Intellimetal that we'd like to help you with that project.'

She was silent for a moment, her glance roving from one to the other. 'Really?'

Clea tapped her fingertips on the arms of her chair. 'Because I've always thought of Cyberdyne as one of the foremost robotics specialists in the field. I had the impression that artificial intelligence was sort of your bailiwick.'

'You have to understand, Ms. Bennet'—Colvin spread his hands helplessly

—'that in some instances our hands are tied.'

Her eyes widened. 'Oh!' she said, looking from one to the other. 'I see.' Then she shrugged, and allowed another blush. 'And here I thought I was being original.'

'I'm sure that anything that comes out of that brain of yours is original, Ms.

Bennet,' Colvin said.

'Absolutely,' Warren agreed eagerly.

Clea smiled at them. 'Well then,' she said, rising. 'I'm sure you gentlemen have a great deal to do and I've already taken up an amazing amount of your time.'

'Not at all.' Colvin rose with her and extended his hand.

She shook it, smiling, and turned to Warren, who had offered his hand as well.

'I'll look forward to hearing from you, then.'

With a nod the I-950 preceded them out of the room and without another word or backward glance marched down the corridor toward the elevator.

Warren looked askance at the CEO and gestured toward the young woman. 'Is she annoyed, or something?' he asked.

Colvin shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. She may be a little socially backward. Apparently she was raised by an eccentric uncle in the wilds of Montana and they didn't get out much. Home schooling, the whole nine yards.

She's never even been to a university.'

'You're kidding!' Warren said, appalled.

Colvin held up his hand. 'I know what you're going to say.'

'Yeah, and I'm going to say it, too. Why would we want to hire some kid who's never even graduated from college, especially at the price and on the terms she's demanding? That's crazy.'

'We're trying to hire her so that we can exploit this metal she's invented. You have to see this statue to believe it, Paul. It's the most amazing thing I've ever laid eyes on.'

'Why don't I just hop on a plane to New York, then, and go take a peek?'

Warren asked.

'Why don't you just trust me, buddy?' Colvin said, putting an arm around the president's shoulders. 'I know what I'm doing here. Believe me, if we don't snap her up now somebody else will. Look, we're going to put in an escape clause, right? So we can both walk away if it doesn't work out and nobody's a loser.

Right?'

'If she walks she'll take that Intellimetal with her,' the president warned.

'You've gotta trust our lawyers to write a better contract than that,' Colvin said with a smile.

Clea was pleased. They'd accepted her without question. For the first time in ages she felt that she'd performed well. The only downside was that they hadn't risen to the bait she'd dangled in the way she'd expected. Could it be that they really weren't involved in the Skynet project any longer?

Cyberdyne had provided a limo and driver for her and the car was waiting out front when she exited the building. She didn't even acknowledge the driver when he opened the door for her, but stepped in and settled herself for the ride back to the hotel, lost in her own thoughts.

Clea woke up lying on a sofa, its firm cushions upholstered in blue-green tweed.

The room she was in appeared to be a cheaply paneled conference room, with, unusually, a large mirror in the wall opposite the couch. No. That is one-way glass. The room is institutional; government, not corporate.

Her eyes searched the mirror for hints of movement from a possible hidden room

as she sharpened her hearing and listened.

'… took enough hypno to knock out an elephant! I thought she'd never go down,' a male voice was saying.

'Maybe there's a flaw in the delivery system,' another man answered, 'because she just woke up. If she'd absorbed as much of the drug as you say you gave her, she'd sleep until tomorrow night.'

Clea detected movement in the mirror, as though one of the speakers had leaned forward for a better look.

Well, well. I've been kidnapped! One of Cyberdyne's more aggressive competitors, perhaps? Or Cyberdyne itself? She considered the idea. It would be strange if it was them. For one thing, nothing in their dossier indicated that they played such games. For another, it seemed a criminal waste of their president and CEO's time if they had intended to negotiate by force all along.

Now who else might have an interest in my little inventions? And who else could or would employ such an extreme technique as drugging and kidnapping her?

Organized crime came briefly to mind, but she dismissed the idea. They were hardly into research and development.

It's much more likely to be Tricker or one of his friends, she thought. Excellent.

She'd been wondering where the agent had got himself to; it looked like she might be about to find out.

Clea sat up, faking a wobbliness that she in no way felt, one hand to her brow as

though her head ached. Which it should, but for the computer and nanites that had worked so hard to cleanse her blood. She blinked, and narrowed her eyes as though the fluorescent light bothered her.

'Hello?' she said, sounding shaky.

'That's my cue,' said one of the men.

She heard a door open and close and there was a flash of light in the mirror.

Then the door to the room she was in opened and she got up from the couch quickly. The I-950 immediately sat down again, resting her head against the back of the couch, her hand over her eyes as though dizzy.

'Take it easy, miss,' the man said soothingly. 'Are you okay?'

'Dizzy,' she murmured.

She dropped her hand as though exhausted, keeping her eyes closed for effect.

But her nose and ears told her where he was, even what he'd last eaten—

hamburger with some sort of hot sauce. The glimpse she'd had of him when he walked in confirmed her suspicion. He worked for the government. His clothing and appearance were so artfully average that in a crowd he would be effectively invisible. It wasn't Tricker, but he might have been a close relative.

'That will pass,' the man said gently.

She heard water pouring and then felt the touch of his hand. Opening her eyes, she saw that he was offering her a glass of water; when she took it he held out two aspirin.

'For the headache I'm sure you have,' he said with a sympathetic smile.

Clea accepted the pills and took them with a sip of water, studying him over the rim of the glass. He was tall