Choices
Chapter 1: Decision
By Gumnut
12 May – 19 Jun 2004

The desert afternoon settled on the landscape like a blanket, the heat suffocating the life out of everything it touched. There was no wind. Brittle, dry, dead plants decorated the flat, dusty ground as far as the eye could see, their bleached white existence blurred by heat haze.

There was an utter silence broken only by the crack of old wood in the sun and the occasional cry of a distant bird.

He was just as silent, his body as still as the air surrounding it. The heat didn't affect him, though it registered on various sensors, the click of microscopic relays switching, calculating, supplying him with the requisite temperature gradient. His inner eye mesmerised by the tiny digits as they flipped over, Fahrenheit to the nth decimal point.

His scanner tracked back and forth relentlessly spouting readouts of the surrounding area in a variety of colours, one for each wavelength. He could tell the composition of the earth beneath him, the ratio of oxygen to nitrogen in the air, how many animals had tracked through this area during the past week. He could calculate the precise amount of time it would take to reach the nearest road, the exact path he would need to navigate to get there, the amount of dust his spinning wheels would create at his own simple command. He was capable and knew where to go.

Little good that it did him.

A brief movement in the far distance caught his scanner's attention for a moment, but whatever faint spark of hope it ignited was abruptly snuffed out as the lone bird fluttered away.

Safety systems repeatedly ran checks, the familiar network listing off all his operational systems. The one glaring malfunction, ally to his current predicament, stabbed at him each time the program rotated over it, his desperate attempts to force a spark of life into those burnt out, broken wires, vain and painfully frustrating.

But one sensor gave him continual feedback. One sensor pinned on one object that had ninety-nine point nine percent of his attention, and was the sole source of the agony sparking from circuit to circuit in his mind.

His vital signs monitor was working at peak efficiency, irrevocably focussed.

On the body beneath his wheels.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo-

Michael hated the desert, and this desert, in particular.

A part of him had to admit that the distant spires of golden rock, the windswept plain, even the stunted and struggling plant life did exude a certain amount of natural beauty, but every positive thought was almost always tainted with memory.

Pain.

Betrayal.

The dust beneath his fingertips as he was flung to the ground, his world shattered by a bullet.

It had happened not far from here, his death and ultimately, his rebirth. The painful metamorphosis of Michael Long into Michael Knight. Caterpillar to butterfly. Living breathing identity to an echo of a man, no past, only a present, and a future clouded by the determination of fate.

That moment was etched forever into his memory. The darkness of the sky, the soft dry breeze wafting off the plain, the scent of cooling earth and rock as night took hold. The sharp reflections of his car's headlights on the stark grey barrel of the gun pointed at him.

"Do you regret it, Michael?"

Kitt's voice broke the silence, shattering his train of morbid thought.

"What?" He hadn't realised he had drifted so far off into his own head. Through the windshield the road still stretched out, disappearing into a horizon blurred by heat haze. The hood of the black Trans Am swallowed the hypnotic white lines as they flew by.

There was not a soul or vehicle in sight, just desolate landscape and asphalt.

Kitt's voice was tentative. "You've been very quiet since we set out, and considering our current location, I surmised the subject of your brooding."

"Brooding?"

The AI ignored the flippant question. "Michael, do you regret it? We have never spoken of it, and I was wondering…"

"Kitt." How did he explain it? He barely understood it himself. He swallowed. "I would be lying if I said I had no regrets. It was a life, it was mine, and it was taken from me." The AI was silent, waiting. "But if it hadn't happened…"

If it hadn't happened he would be dead.

He stared down at the dash with its assorted lights, buttons, switches, and the unusually quiet voice box, and he smiled. "I would never had met you, and you would never have known the difference between…."

"A blonde and a brunette?"

He frowned at the steering wheel and opened his mouth to protest only to be cut off.

"Soccer and football?"

"Kitt-"

"Poker and blackjack?"

"Kitt!"

"Yes?"

He couldn't help it, he grinned. "As long as you know the important things."

"Seriously, Michael, I want you to know that though I might not fully understand the specifics of the trauma you suffered through, I do know it caused you pain." There was a pause. "And I would understand if you wished it had never happened."

The feel of the steering wheel beneath his hands, the familiar muffled rumble of the engine, the inflection of the voice of the AI.

"Kitt, you are the one thing in my life I could never regret."

The AI didn't offer a reply, but he didn't need one.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Repeated scans did nothing to improve the situation. No matter how hard he tried to search for a solution only one presented itself, and painfully.

The collision had thrown him sideways straight into Michael, forcing him under the car's chassis. Kitt had heard the bones breaking against his shell, felt the fragile human body smashed against his own. He had tried to prevent it, screaming his driver's name, tyres spinning uselessly in the dust, but his momentum had been too great, and when he finally came to a rest, Michael's broken body was sprawled beneath him, unmoving.

He scanned again, panic beginning to rise. Michael's blood pressure was dropping slowly but surely, a pool of blood soaking into the parched ground.

He shattered the silence, vocalising, calling for Michael to wake.

No response.

Nothing.

For the fifty third time he tried to force energy into his fried communication equipment, upping the voltage, praying for a result, but in the end only scorching the inside of his hood as sparks flew in electrical discharge, burning out a nearby perceptor.

The sudden pain shook him, straightened out his mind.

Panic would not help him.

He looked at the problem again. Calmly.

Michael lay at an angle beneath him, his left forearm and head just behind Kitt's passenger side front wheel, his legs sticking out the other side of the car, in front of his driver's side rear wheel. If he had landed any other way, Kitt would have been able to carefully edge off the fallen man. But in his current position, Michael's body prevented Kitt from moving in any direction.

If Kitt moved, he would run over his driver.

But if he didn't move, didn't attempt to go for help, Michael would slowly bleed to death while he watched.

But if he moved, he would run over one or more limbs, and Michael would be injured even further, possibly killed, crushed arteries bleeding his life out onto the desert floor.

But if he didn't move, Michael would bleed to death anyway.

But if he did move he might kill his driver.

But if he didn't move he would kill his driver.

There was only one solution.

But he had been programmed to protect, not to harm, particularly this human.

Track the problem again, there had to be another solution. His mind spun in disordered logic.

Time was a factor.

Solution. Solution. There had to be another solution.

The black Trans Am was still in the heat, but a voice rose in a wail that echoed the parched desolation of the landscape.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo-

Silence had reigned inside the car for several more miles, Michael still quiet, and Kitt respecting his mood. Eventually the monotonously flat road gave birth to the distant, almost tumbledown, shape of a disused building standing alone on the side of the old highway. Once the horizon spat it out, it wasn't long before they were pulling up beside it.

A possible lead was all it was.

An informant, a rather skittish informant at that, had spouted off this location after Michael had stared him down enough. His height, and the fist he had knotted in the man's jacket, seemed to have worked. He still wasn't a hundred percent sure the truth had been told, but he'd followed it up with a glib statement about returning to have a talk with the guy if he found out otherwise. Various guarantees of the man's reliability had tumbled forth after that. Michael had decided to take him at his word.

So here they were. Out in the middle of a desert in the middle of the day, Kitt's air conditioning working overtime, and him reluctant to open the door and let the weather in.

And their week had been going so nicely.

Some petty thief had gotten his hands on a shipload of experimental e-weaponry, some of which had been developed in the Foundation's labs. Devon had freaked, and Michael and Kitt had been called back from a rather nice vacation cruising down the Californian coast.

Too bad really, he had been in the middle of teaching Kitt the fine art of sinking Battleships. The fact that it had been most of Michael's battleships that had been sunk was irrelevant - it was after all simple logic – no, it had been the pleasure of listening to Kitt actually cackle each time one of those said battleships went down.

The AI's glee was infectious.

The game now sat abandoned on the back seat along with a pile of discarded beach clothing.

The building looked deserted. An old faded sign pointed a weathered arrow at the ruin declaring 'Joe's Last Stand' to be the only gas for a missing number of miles, and the only source on the planet for 'Joe's Super Steakburgers'. One look at the painted in and smashed windows told him it had been a long time since this place had seen anything but tumbleweed.

"Kitt, any sign of the guy we're looking for?"

The AI didn't reply for a moment, and Michael could almost hear Kitt's scanners interrogating the area. "There is one person in the furthest structure and a great deal of electrical interference." The frown in Kitt's voice was palpable. "I'm afraid I'm not getting a particularly clear reading. I would advise caution."

"Caution is my middle name, buddy."

The resultant snort from the voice box at that statement earned it a glare.

He was half out of the car when he was abruptly halted by a yell from Kitt.

"Michael!"

And the world suddenly dissolved into a painfully screeching sea of white.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The decision had to be made.

Time was running out and Kitt had to make a move before his choices bled away into the sand.

Only there was no choice.

It had to be done.

Michael forgive me.

He ignited his engine and with the greatest of care and speed, edged over the prone legs of his driver.

His own scream of denial did little to mask the snap of bones beneath his wheel.

And then it was done. He was free to move.

And move he did.

Frantically scanning Michael's life signs, he crept away from his injured driver.

Both legs were now broken, blood vessels crushed. Kitt's circuits shuddered as he read the damage he had caused, dusty tyre prints staining the denim of Michael's jeans. The hot sun now beat down on his partner, the red stains in the dirt drying as he watched. Time was at even more of a premium.

Turning away from the slowly dying man, Kitt steeled himself with determination, and without looking back, floored the accelerator.

He had to find help, and find it fast.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo-

"Michael!"

"Michael!"

Huh?

"MICHAEL!"

Kitt?

He opened his mouth to answer, but only managed to breathe in a lungful of dust, sprouting a hacking cough, which in turn shook his painfully pounding head.

Oh, god.

"Michael?"

"Kitt?" He opened his eyes and came face to face with tyre rubber. Well, whatever fancy substance Kitt's tyres were made of. What the hell had happened?

Only one way to find out.

He suppressed a groan as he pushed himself to his knees, grabbing his head when his vision swam again. "Status, Pal?"

"We were attacked, Michael, with what I suspect is one of the e-weapons Devon was so concerned about. An EMP pulse laced with both audio and visual harmonic disruption. Obviously designed to take out both electronic systems and the humans operating them."

"EMP?" Michael finally made it to his feet, only swaying a little, his equilibrium slowly coming back online. "Kitt, you okay?"

No answer.

"Kitt?" He leaned in closer to the car, peering into the shadows attempting to focus on the lights of the dash. Suddenly he wanted to see the dance of the red light in Kitt's voice box more than anything in the world. "Kitt!"

"I am fine, Michael." Pause. "However, I'm afraid to admit that my outgoing communications transmitter has been disabled. It appears my shielding was insufficient in that area."

Michael let out a sigh of relief. "As long as you are okay." And under his breath, "Thank god."

"'Thank Bonnie' would be more appropriate I think."

He cocked an eyebrow at the car. You and me both, pal.

"Okay, where are the bad guys?"

"Guy, singular. Once he had determined that we were neutralised, he proceeded to load a van on the other side of the property. Assuming he was attempting to escape us before you recovered, I took the opportunity to microjam his vehicle. He is currently fighting with the van's ignition system, and I must say his vocabulary of expletives even out does yours."

He didn't deign that comment with a reply. "Thanks, Kitt, you're the best. Stay here, back me up." He patted the roof of the car as he shut the driver's side door.

"Michael, please be careful. The functions that allow me to communicate with you via the comlink were on the damaged circuit board. I can receive you, but I can't transmit. And I am still receiving a great deal of electronic interference from what ever it is they have stored there."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He approached the building as quietly as possible and edged around the back. Sweat ran down his spine, the heat having gotten to him while he was eating dust. Fortunately, he had fallen into Kitt's shadow, otherwise he might be sporting a nice case of sunburn.

He spotted the suspect, and the van he was swearing at, just outside a rear rollerdoor. His head was buried under the hood of the vehicle, and he had to agree with Kitt's assessment of his language capability – colourful was the least description.

Michael smiled.

Time for a little felon football. He moved out from cover and approached from behind the van.

Unfortunately, said felon possessed a sixth sense and chose that exact moment to look up from his work.

His eyes caught Michael's, and Michael's caught his.

Those eyes widened.

And he bolted.

Michael didn't hesitate, and took off after him across the desert plain, his pounding feet throwing up dust.

The guy was fast.

And Michael's head kept thrumming a steady beat to the sound of his heels hitting the dirt. He was hot, sweaty, and not a little hurting.

God, he hated the desert.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

As Michael disappeared around the corner of the building, Kitt rechecked every system again. The diagnostic came back clean with the exception of his transmitter circuit. Annoyance tending towards frustration. He hated being compromised in any way.

He repeatedly scanned the area, tracking both Michael and the suspect as always, but suddenly his attention was drawn to the road. A semi-trailer abruptly appeared on the horizon, and, by Kitt's calculations, the speed limit was just a memory for its driver.

Must be a relative of Michael's.

Kitt sighed, briefly reflecting on the recklessness of his partner. He hated to say it, and probably never would, but he wouldn't have Michael any other way. His brashness, his vitality, his lack of regard for logic….the man was incorrigible.

And he certainly made life interesting.

When he wasn't on the verge of getting himself killed.

The semi was approaching his position fast. Michael had made it around to the rear of the building. A brief check on his vitals showed him to be hot and bothered by what was probably a headache, but other than that he was fine. The suspect….

The suspect suddenly took off into the desert.

Kitt activated his engine as he tracked Michael tearing off after him, but was distracted by the semi, which had abruptly breached the curb of the road and was now churning up dust across the desert plain, aiming for the two running men.

Emitting a series of binary numbers that equated to an electronic expletive, Kitt slammed the Trans Am into drive and took off, leaving a cloud of dust and falling gravel in his wake.

"Kitt, come get me."

Already on my way, Michael, hold on.

He dodged around the building, his tyres slamming into the dusty floor of the desert as his suspension bounced over plant and rock alike. The semi had a head start on him, its mass and speed ploughing across the landscape on a beeline for one or both of the men. Kitt swerved, avoiding larger obstructions like bushes and boulders that could potentially impede his progress, but the semi had no such concern.

The suspect was still running away from Michael like a proverbial jackrabbit, Kitt's driver hard on his heels.

The semi was going to reach Michael before he could.

Unacceptable.

Michael suddenly seemed to realise what exactly was on his tail, and increased his speed, glancing almost desperately over at Kitt whose engine roared in denial.

He activated the turbo boost in an attempt to gain ground. Michael! The semi was going to run him down.

Unable to collect his driver in time, Kitt did the only thing he could.

He threw himself, and the Trans Am, between the vulnerable figure of his driver and the oncoming rush of the semi's engine.

He had no hope of stopping the semi, his mass just wasn't great enough. But if he could deflect it….

The bull bar of the truck caught him on his left side, the MBS groaning under the strain, but miraculously holding. Kitt fired his right side boosters to keep himself stable, his tyres spinning in the dust desperately searching for traction.

His entire chassis trembled, the sound of screeching metal on metal abrading his audio sensors.

And the two vehicles fought for supremacy.

The semi was slowing, but it wasn't slowing fast enough. Kitt fired his boosters repeatedly, digging his virtual heels into the desert floor, his wheels spinning a cloud of aggravated dust as he was pushed sideways. Michael was so close, he had no chance of evading injury.

Michael!

A body broke against his passenger side door.

The semi suddenly stopped.

Kitt rocked towards the left, killing his boosters to stop himself from moving, and desperately scanned for the location of his driver. Michael!

The semi backed up, and Kitt was barely aware of the object of Michael's chase running back past him and climbing into the cabin of the truck. The semi backed off, churning up dust, and tore off in the direction of the road.

And Kitt was left staring at the body beneath his wheels.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
FIN.