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“Connor!” Hank lengthened his stride to catch up with his partner. “You don't have to do this.”
“No one else is getting through to him, Hank,” Connor shot back. The SWAT officer was waiting for them at the edge of the building, a spare vest in hand. It wasn't exactly necessary for Connor's protection—as an android he could absorb more damage than the vest before a critical failure—but it was appreciated as a gesture of solidarity.
“He's fired into the surrounding buildings a couple of times,” the SWAT officer explained as he helped Connor strap into the vest. “They're supposed to be abandoned, but my people are sweeping them anyway.”
“Did anyone get his name?” Connor asked. He held his arms out patiently as Hank double-checked the vest's fasteners and focused his own attention on the SWAT officer. “Or at least his designation?”
The officer shook his head. “We didn't even know he was an android until one of my guys spotted the blue blood. Thought you might be able to talk him down better than a human negotiator.”
Connor considered this information for a moment, waving off the lieutenant's offer of his sidearm. He was still technically nothing more than a consultant for the police department, despite almost a year of service, so he wasn't authorized to carry either a badge or a weapon.
Most of the deviants he'd encountered since the revolution only turned to violence as a last resort, or when their emotions were too overwhelming. If this was a deviant, he'd be able to talk them down without a weapon...and if it wasn't his preconstruction would be fast enough to avoid damage.
“I don't like this,” Hank muttered. For the fifth time.
Connor ignored his partner's statement and ran a hand down the front of his vest. In response to his touch the standard SWAT labels shifted to include the familiar blue triangle and white text to signify that Connor was an android. Wearing such identifiers had become unnecessary after the revolution, but he hoped it would help him gain the other android's trust.
“Ready?” the SWAT officer had pressed his back to the wall next to the entrance to the abandoned courtyard beyond. Hank took up position behind him and gave Connor a nod.
If he had been human he might have taken a deep breath. Instead, Connor simply walked through the doorway and began scanning the courtyard for a sign of his target.
A shot pierced the stifling silence of the afternoon, sending Connor staggering back a half-step. He stared down at his left shoulder where a bullet had torn through the fabric of his sleeve to leave a splatter of blue blood on the wall behind him.
“I'm all right,” he called over his shoulder before Hank could barrel in after him. “I'm not here to hurt you,” he added, raising both his hands up and away from his sides. The courtyard seemed empty, but there was a shadow of movement behind a heap of rubble from the abandoned hotel to one side.
He took a cautious step forward, hands still held out, scanning for any sign of the android's identity. “My name is Connor. I'm an android here on behalf of the Detroit Police Department. I just want to talk.”
There was another flicker of movement, and this time he thought he caught sight of blond hair and pale skin. “I just want to talk,” he repeated, taking another step forward. “Can you tell me your name?”
A strange, high-pitched sound echoed through the air around them. Either a laugh or a sob, made by someone pushed to their absolute limit. “I don't remember.”
The voice was masculine. Familiar. “That's all right,” Connor said. He kept moving forward, trying to circle around to see the other android without getting close enough to seem like a threat. “Is there anything you like to be called?”
Not all androids had been given names. Not all androids chose to keep those names. “Can you tell me your serial number? Or your model?”
More movement, then a figure stepped out of the shadows, gun raised in an unsteady hand. For a moment Connor felt a strange lurch in his processor, as though he was seeing two images laid over each other.
The rooftop. The wind from the helicopters pushing debris into his path. The body floating face-down in the pool. The little girl, crying, blood on one knee.
Daniel.
“You're a PL600,” Connor stated, trying to keep his voice steady. “Do you remember that?”
The blond android flinched, gun wavering for a moment. “There's just too much!” he gasped, free hand going to his head. “It's all...I can't do this.”
“Everything is going to be all right.” Connor kept his hands held up and slowly advanced. “We're going to figure this out, and then get you some help.”
“No!” the android whipped his head back up, gun raised in shaking hands. “No, no, I don't need...I want to go back!”
Connor stood still, not wanting to agitate the other android any further. “Go back? Back to your owners?” There had been some humans that had taken their androids back after the revolution, though they were few and far between.
“Not there, no, not there.” The gun moved again, pointing toward Connor's left as the blond android's face screwed up in anguish. “They never did...they wouldn't...I can't take this anymore!”
The gun snapped up again and Connor froze. Those words echoed back to that dark night, to the first deviant he'd faced (the first one he couldn't save). “Take what?”
“All of this!” the blond android wailed. His free hand clutched at his head as he gestured around with the gun. “I can hear them...under my skin, all the time. Whispering and laughing. Taunting me.”
The skin on the other android's chin was damaged, like he'd scraped off his own serial number. It wouldn't be impossible to identify him without it, but they'd need something more complicated than a scan of his registry. “It's going to be all right,” Connor repeated.
“No!” the blond android snapped. He backed away, colliding with the broken wall behind him. “No, no, I can't go back...I didn't want this...it all feels and I never...I want to go back!”
If Hank were here, he would have said something obscene. There had been some concerns that some older models wouldn't have a neural network complex enough to handle deviancy. That was being solved in Jericho by external servers that could take some of the processing load off an individual android's system. As Josh had explained it, instead of depending on one internal network the older or less advanced models could depend on a larger external network, the way that humans used to link computers together for advanced processes a few decades ago.
“I can help you,” Connor said. “We can take you to Jericho...they've helped a lot of people like you.”
The other android was still shaking his head, but the rest of his body was suddenly stiff and alarmingly still. “There's no hope for me,” he whispered.
To Connor's horror, the blond android lifted the gun to rest the muzzle under his own chin. “Wait!” he pleaded, arm outstretched, not caring if the other android saw him as a danger now. “You don't have to do this. Put the gun down and we can talk this through.”
For a split-second, the other android hesitated. Connor struck in that moment. He sprinted toward the other android, knowing even as he did that the other would turn the gun on Connor. The first shot caught him in the chest, lodging harmlessly in the bullet-proof vest, but the second struck him low in the hip and sent him crashing to the ground.
But it had been enough. His last, lunging stagger sent him colliding with the other android. They wrestled for the gun, the other android crying out in pain and fury. Connor managed to put him on the ground, but a clumsy blow to his injured hip had the detective crumpling, losing his grip on the weapon, and then the blond android was standing over him.
Tears were streaming down the blond android's face, his hands were shaking, though at this range he didn't need to be precise. “I just want it to stop,” he whispered.
At this range, at this trajectory, a bullet wound would be fatal. Connor stared up at the other android, forcing himself to stay calm. “I know. We can help you,” he promised. He couldn't save everyone, couldn't save Daniel or the others he'd hurt during his time as deviant hunter...but maybe he could save this one.
Suddenly, the other android's body went lax. The gun dropped from his hands and he collapsed to his knees, letting out a wail as he covered his face. Connor let himself relax against the ground as he heard the SWAT team move in, almost smiling at the sound of Hank's gruff voice issuing orders to be careful around the blond android.
He tilted his head back enough to see the SWAT officer escorting a social worker to help contain the distraught android in front of him. That was a new thing in the last few months—special humans trained to help androids adapt to deviant life. Maybe someday they'd be able to handle situations like this on their own, but Connor was glad he'd been able to answer the call this time.
“What the hell? Connor?”
Hank was standing over him now, both hands on his hips. “I'm okay.”
Hank snorted. “Right. You're so 'okay' you're gonna lie there and let the techs look you over, got it?”
Connor folded his hands on his chest and stared up at his partner, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”