Self Destruct

Lightening lit up the sky and thunder exploded as I ran from the men seeking to destroy my life. Their animals howled in the distance, progressing ever closer even as I raced out of breath. Yet, stopping meant death, so I endured each painful breath that threatened to tear my lungs from my body. The trees tore at my hair as I wiped the sweat off my face with hands bloodied by the brambles and bushes.  

Suddenly, the dense trees opened into clearing. Stopping, I gazed across the distance through the torrents of rain, gaging whether time permitted my crossing or if I would be caught mid-field. 

Looking first left and then right at the expansive tree line, I saw no choice but to keep moving forward. 

I ran with every bit of strength left in the small legs provided by the Makers for this mission. 

I much preferred a body capable of responding to the people following me rather than running for my life, a strong body with an arsenal of weapons to annihilate any trace of the absolute failure of the mission from this world’s records.  

But no, they gave me a child’s body. 

As the trackers closed in behind me, I awakened to the choice itching at the back of my mind, whether to hit the self-destruct button or keep running, hoping my team found me before those hunting me. 

Damn these little legs. 

Supposedly, the little girl’s access to high-ranking officials on Terra 3 offered the best route for infiltrating their efforts in undermining the Three Worlds Governance Force (TWGF). Previous spies lost their lives to uncovering this one lead, the daughter of a TWGF cabinet member who, traitorous and consumed with hatred for the loss of his wife, desired to destroy the fragile unity between the three worlds. 

Alistar, believing the death of his wife at the hands of Terra 2 mercenaries a purposeful act meant to hide the atrocities propagated towards the civilians she sought to help, desired to destroy those in power who supported T2’s inclusion in the alliance.   

While at school earlier that day, fellow officers grabbed the girl in the bathroom, and I took her place. 

Almost impossible to distinguish RoBot Life Systems (BoTLs) from Territes, I assumed the role of an eight-year-old child. After months of practice simulating the experience within T1 society, I felt secure in my ability to play the role perfectly. 

It was the girl’s pet that gave me away, a six-legged creature known for inducing love and affection. Someone failed to realize the devotion level between the two and sent me in unprepared. 

BoTL spies relied on the programmed emotions and energy of the BoTL in order to realistically mimic the original Territe. As everything vibrates at a specific energy level, which changes based on circumstances, Makers preprogram possible interaction energy levels for our use.  

Information gathered on the family provided only for a family pet, not a personal support creature with a high emotional energy level exchange with the girl. 

Returning home, the animal at once sensed something wrong. I engaged the highest level of emotional energy provided, said something about the inconsiderate nature of other children at school to the housekeeper, and hurriedly retreated to the girl’s room. The animal attempted to follow, but I closed the door before it entered the room.  

I knew at that moment the mission changed. Rather than a long-term plant, the current situation necessitated immediate attempts to gain information and escape before discovery.  

While a spy's consciousness resided within the BoTL, our bodies lay deep within a secret facility in a life-support sarcophagus on T1. The destruction of the BoTL resulted in the ceasing of brain-function of the body on T1 and death. Removal of the spy’s consciousness from the BoTL required a process within the facility. It could not be disconnected remotely.  

Desiring to live and salvage something from the mission, I devised a new plan. If I tried to contact my support team, any signal would be observed and noted by the house and city security systems. 

I was on my own. 

If I left the animal outside the door for much longer, suspicion would arise. 

If I killed the animal, I may have some time to escape, but killing animals and children was not in my nature. 

I preferred killing people who deserved such treatment. 

A plan formed in my head as I moved. 

Letting the animal into the room, I took the one weapon I possessed, a 3 shot tranq pen. I plunged it into the animal and pressed the button. It quickly sank to the ground, unconscious for at least two hours. 

Not a lot of time. 

I slid the animal into the closet and covered it with clothes. Peeking out the door, I carefully made my way down the stairs, past the kitchen where the housekeeper prepared the evening meal, and to the study door. 

Placing my hand on the door, I felt for any vibrations or sounds. Feeling and hearing nothing, I tried the knob.  

It was locked. 

I pulled out the hook pick and tension wrench from the bottom of the duplicate little girl backpack and carefully picked the lock. Cracking the door and seeing no one inside, I slipped in, shutting the door behind me. 

The dim room, lit only from the light entering through the windows, looked rather bare and uninviting. An old brown desk stood near the window, with rows of books on shelves covering two walls, while the last of the four walls lay bare, only a picture of the girl’s mother painted in an old-fashioned style. 

Gazing around the room, I considered where secret documents or other hints might hide. I checked the desk first. 

Nothing. No locked drawers, hidden panels that I could find, or papers taped to the underside of drawers. 

Searching around the bookshelves, I pushed and pulled various volumes, receiving nothing but dust and spiderwebs for my efforts. 

Going over to the picture, I carefully pulled the bottom frame outward, peeking behind to ensure no alarm or trap announced my presence. Seeing nothing, I gently removed the picture from the wall. 

There, taped to the back of the frame lay a single piece of paper with a series of numbers and letters. I quickly wrote them down in a notebook from the backpack, shoved it back inside, and replaced the picture.  

As I turned, the door opened and Alistar walked in, turning on the light and rapidly searching the room with his eyes. 

“Astral,” he said, surprised to see me. “What are you doing in here?” 

“I’m looking for Tramps. I can’t find him anywhere,” I lied, presenting the appropriate energy emission and facial expressions.  

“This door is always locked, and you know you’re not supposed to be in here.” 

“But the door was open,” I exclaimed with tears in my eyes, “and I was worried. Then I saw Mother’s picture, and I miss her so much.” 

Tears almost always produced the desired effect. The man turned his attention to the picture, his shoulders slumped, and sorrow entered his voice. 

“I know, dear.”  

Taking the few short steps to where I stood, he knelt and looked into my eyes. “Why don’t we look outside and see if she’s gotten into Mrs. Plasiter’s garden again.” 

I nodded, thanked my luck for the opportunity, took his hand, and proceeded together out of the room. 

“Melnyce, we’re going outside to look for Trents. Back in a bit,” he yelled towards the kitchen and the housekeeper. 

“Yes, Mr. Relench. I didn’t know she was missing!” 

Gently removing my hand from Alistar’s grasp, I skipped ahead. Looking back, I noticed a questioning look on his face.  

“Wait, what happened to your hair?” Uh, what? “You begged for the pink shine for weeks. Did you already wash it out?” 

Another mistake. Damn the Makers for not getting things right. 

“The girls at school made fun of me.” At least this lie aligned with my previous comment about mean kids at school. 

The man shook his head, wondering at the changing emotions of little girls. 

Apparently arriving at Mrs. Plasiter’s home, we walked up to the door and Alistar knocked. No one answered. 

“Looks like she’s not here and the garden looks fine. Let’s go back home and check again.” 

I nodded, then asked innocently, “Is it okay if I just check around the block? I’ll come right back.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, but the sun is going down soon, and there’s a storm coming. I want you home before then.” 

I nodded, and as he turned back towards their home, I casually moved down the street away from him, calling out the animal’s name. 

Rounding the corner, I took out my electronic device and looked at the map. I knew sending a message within the city boundaries still meant instant awareness of my existence and location, so I needed to wait until I was further away. 

The closest boundary lay to the east, about a 20-minute run.  

5 minutes later, still well within city boundaries, I heard sirens in the distance back towards the house. Alistar apparently found Trents in the closet and called the authorities.  

Not a stupid man, he likely put all the questions together and realized not only was I not his daughter, but she was missing and I the only connection to getting her back. 

Thus, began the flight for my life. 

Now, here I was, in the middle of this wet, muddy field, waiting for help to arrive. Having sent a message with the numbers on the paper and the desperate need to extract me immediately, I could only run until my team found me. The Makers refused to leave a BoTL behind, more valuable than the replaceable spy for its technology, and because it could be traced back to T1 and our espionage efforts. 

If they didn’t find me soon, my oath to the Organization meant hitting the self-destruct button, destroying the BoTL and myself in the process. 

I didn’t want to die, but all my training and everything of value in my life rested on my oath. Getting caught exacted the same result as any traitorous action, my death by remote destruction and the relocation of all those dear to me to a T1 resource camp in the asteroid fields of Canar.  

I know this since I exacted similar rewards on others who failed to ensure their BoTL remained out of the hands of those that desired to replicate its technology and use it towards more destructive efforts. Participating in the removal of the BoTL and the sentencing of hard labor for their family ensured that spies understood the ramifications of the failure to live up to their oath.  

Damn these little legs. 

My only hope rested in my extraction. 

As I neared the edge of the clearing, out of breath, mud covered, and rain soaked, shots rang out behind me. Water and grass bits flew up inches from my feet. 

Suddenly, I felt the hot sting of a bullet piercing the skin of this little girl's BoTL body. Blood seeped into the dress high up on the shoulder. Not a mortal wound, but damn it hurt, and I had no more running left in me. 

I dove into the trees, rolled, and took cover behind a large trunk. Peering back, I saw five men and their track animals crossing the expanse, led by Alistar yelling at them to stop firing. He wanted me alive. 

Turning onto my back and looking up towards the lightning crossing the sky, I willed my retrieval team to arrive. 

Nothing came. 

Reaching into my mouth, I pulled out a back molar revealing the self-destruct button, a small pin-like device protruding from the gum. I knew the Organization took care of those left behind when spies died with honor. Their care ensured, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Yet, I wished one last gaze upon their faces. 

As I heard the men nearing the tree where I hid, I gazed up into the falling raindrops and bit down. 

Damn these little legs.