Choices
Chapter 4: Code Blue
By Gumnut
27-29 Nov 2005

Electricity powers life.

Be it AI or human, everything living runs on electricity. It runs though the muscles, the neurons, the circuits, and the engine. It provides for decisions, actions and attempts, it beats the heart, breathes the lungs and spins the wheels. It powers life.

And it filled the gel-covered pads held against Michael's bared chest and screamed across his nerves in a surge that arched his back off the driver's seat.

Rain continued to drum on the roof of the Trans Am, its steady beat drowning out the sounds of panicked breathing in its cabin, but did not hide the alarm of the flatline displayed on the vitals monitor.

"Again, doctor." Kitt's voice was firm but strained.

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Again."

The pads whirred as they charged. The dull thud as electricity hit human flesh. Michael's back arched again.

The monitor bleeped for a moment, but returned to its previous droning whine.

No!

"Again."

"I'm sorry, Kitt."

"I said, 'Again'."

"Kitt." This time from Bonnie, standing beside the car holding an umbrella to protect the doctor and his equipment…tears running down her face.

"No! My purpose is to protect his life. Do it again!"

"There is no life to protect!"

"DO IT AGAIN!"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A lone car on the desert highway.

The sun beat down on black paintwork singing with the power of the engine beneath its hood. It was travelling fast, ever so fast, its aim purposeful and true.

And its windows as black as its body.

Kitt now had some feeling as to how Michael felt about the desert. The stark dry plains with little more than half dead scrub for decoration. There was some majesty, some arching spires and spectacular monoliths sculpted by wind and time. But memory etched designs into all of them.

His memory was perfect, unclouded. But he was sentient, burdened with emotion and emotional memory burned. The sound of bones beneath his tyres. The call of his name when he was needed, yet unable to get there. Rain mixing with tears on his paintwork.

Kitt hated the desert.

But that wasn't his focus at the moment.

It hadn't taken him long to find them. It was amazing what could be done with fatalistic determination.

He had license plates, physical descriptions, places and titles of ownership. A short visit to Michael's informant had also proven quite useful…after the man had stopped screaming at the car sitting amongst the remains of his living room.

His laser had also proven to be effective.

So here he was, burning up miles on the desert highway.

Alone.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He had sat in the hospital parking lot for a long time, mind revisiting decisions, assessing his actions. There had to have been something he could have done to prevent this. Something to stop it all from happening. It was his job to protect Michael.

And instead…

Bonnie was the first to visit him; to attempt to convince him it wasn't his fault.

Soft fingers on his shell. "Kitt, you did what you could."

"It wasn't enough."

"It was all you could do."

"It wasn't enough."

"Kitt-"

"I'd like to be alone, please."

Her eyes had shuttered at that, her defences rising. Kitt wasn't the only one in pain and for a moment he regretted his words. He wasn't designed to hurt.

But he did.

And look what he had done.

He'd started his engine and once she had taken a surprised step back, he had driven off. He didn't say where he was going. He didn't really know. They could track him with the homing beacon if they so chose.

He needed to be alone.

Where he couldn't hurt anyone.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

His scanners picked up the semi long before it rose above the horizon and into visual range. Kitt's tyres sung on the asphalt and at a whim, he turned on his stereo - not to the classics station, no, to the rock station, to Michael's station. He could almost fool himself that Michael was with him, harsh beats throbbing within the darkened cabin.

The only thing missing was Michael's off key singing.

Guitars ground out the melody while the singer screamed out injustices again the soul.

Rather appropriate really.

Eventually the dark form appeared on the horizon, melting into existence through the heat haze.

The Trans Am engine didn't miss a beat.

Secondary and primary scanners fixated on it, drawing information from it like blood from a vein. The trailer was full of the e-weaponry he and Michael had been looking for. Packed to the seams, in fact. He even managed to identify the little grenade that had been thrown at them that fateful day.

His engine purred.

Two men in the cabin. Med scan brought up their profiles. The two men responsible. The scan narrowed and Kitt brought his laser online.

He didn't know if they had time to see him approach, he didn't even know if they cared, but his approach was so fast, he doubted they would have been able to do anything even if they did.

The stereo was still blaring as he crossed the centre line to overtake.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Devon was, of course, the next person to try and make him feel better.

The signal came in, and he could have simply chosen to ignore it, but if he had, no doubt the director would worry and, no doubt, send someone out to look for him….something he wanted to avoid. He valued his privacy at the moment, something he rarely had or rarely needed, but right now….he wanted to be alone.

"Kitt?"

"Yes, Devon?"

"Where are you?"

"Near the hospital." It wasn't a lie, despite its vague definition.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" It was unusual for Kitt to be rude to the director…but this wasn't usual circumstance.

Devon didn't reply immediately, his eyes ducking a moment before coming up a little glassy. "Do you have the mission reports ready?"

"Transmitting data now." Everything that had happened. He watched the information march through his processor and spin itself into the neat packages of outgoing transmission. All the events, Michael, the desert, his decisions, the rain, the tears, everything.

Devon's voice dropped. "Kitt, how are you?"

"I am functioning." Within normal parameters? Highly unlikely. But he was functioning. He was.

For the moment.

Then the inevitable. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was my choice."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"Yes, Devon." What exactly he was agreeing with was unclear and the expression on Devon's face reflected that.

"Very well. I would like you to report back to the Las Vegas branch within the day."

"I would like some time to myself."

Devon blinked, his concern immediately coming to the forefront. "Kitt-"

"I am well. I would simply like…some time."

The director seemed to consider. It was understandable. One doesn't usually let unmanned machinery run around the city simply because it needed some time to itself. Normally it would have been with Michael-

He cut the thought. He wasn't ready to think it yet.

"Within the day."

"You have my word."

Devon eyed him through the video link, but didn't comment. He fell back on what Kitt knew he would fall back on…"It wasn't your fault."

"Everyone is entitled to an opinion." And he cut the connection.

He needed time to think.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The first thing he did was swerve out in front, obstruct, and force them to stop.

The two men in the cabin yelled at him, the truck's horn attempting to drown out the music pouring form his speakers. So he turned the music up until the beat started to shake his processor. There was something magical about riding the music, something like flying, and Kitt soared.

Once the truck had come to a complete halt, Kitt drove ahead a hundred metres or so before performing a one-eighty and facing his foe. If the Trans Am could have physically snarled, it would have.

One of the men hung out the window of the semi-trailer, now stopped dead in the middle of the road in the middle of the desert, and yelled, "What the hell do you think you are doing!"

"You have stolen goods. The authorities are on their way." Or they would be as soon as Kitt contacted them.

The men didn't seem to appreciate this, their response, to put the semi in motion once again. Kitt noted with some satisfaction that the truck still bore remnants of their previous encounter, the front grill mangled rather badly. There had obviously been some hasty repairs done on the vehicle.

Kitt smiled to himself.

This was no Goliath encounter. These men had no idea what they were dealing with.

The semi was gaining speed and bearing down on the comparatively small Trans Am, but Kitt didn't hesitate. He slammed on the accelerator and smoke roared up over his suddenly spinning wheels. The black car shot forward and within moments had collided with the semi's right front wheel.

Rubber, steel and breaking axle crumpled under the onslaught of MBS and the truck swerved off the road, catching a rock outcropping and tipping onto its side.

Michael's plan to attack Goliath would have worked after all.

If it hadn't been Goliath.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After his conversation with Devon, Kitt lost himself in his thoughts. What could he have done that would have changed events? How could he have prevented it all?

What would Michael have wanted him to do?

The answer to that question was obvious. The few times Michael had been in his place there was one thing he had always done.

Kept going.

Chased down those responsible and brought them to justice.

Kitt was well aware of the anger his driver harboured. Michael was well known for going off the deep end and charging off to right what was wrong. It was one of the personality traits that enabled him to survive and continue to fight despite everything that had happened to him in his relatively short life.

And there was a case pending. Out there somewhere were the people responsible for all this. The people who had left Michael to die in the desert.

Again.

From somewhere deep inside something welled up in the AI. Something buried and unacknowledged.

An anger.

At the injustice. At the cruelty. At the simple unfairness.

At the people who had put him in the position to make such a choice and cause such pain.

Usually it was Michael who got angry.

But Michael wasn't here…

And Kitt's homing beacon was suddenly denied power.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Kitt stared at the wreck of the semi-trailer.

He was still a fair distance off having slowed down after the collision and turned around, but not approached.

He was simply staring.

The two men were alive. Not particularly healthy, but alive. One was unconscious in the passenger seat; the other was attempting to climb out of the cabin.

Kitt continued to watch as the man slipped and broke his leg on the way down. The desert floor was remarkably unforgiving.

When the man finally saw him and called out for help, Kitt did quietly approach, his engine idling in silent mode and no longer playing the music, his windows still as black as his paintwork.

"Do you need assistance?" Was that sarcasm?

The man swore at him…or the non-existent driver he assumed was hidden by those black windows.

"Courtesy never goes astray, you know."

More profanity.

An idle thought of what he could do to this man…of what he had done to Michael…flitted through his processor. He had the capability. Thoughts of KARR quickly followed. No, he wasn't KARR. He was Kitt.

And Michael was his survival.

"I could kill you." His voice was quiet, calm, his scanner tracking idly back and forth. "I could do to you what you did to my partner."

That prompted a great deal of pleading, some denial, lots of whimpering and a pile of pathetic excuses.

Kitt slipped out of silent mode and revved the engine just to shut him up.

The man froze.

And Kitt stared at him.

The man stared back.

And just for a moment, the AI felt the power of the position he was in. Never before had he considered exactly what he was capable of quite this way.

A faint and somewhat tremulous transmission, "Kitt?"

The AI jumped. "Michael?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"DO IT AGAIN!"

The doctor complied and this time…this blessed time…the flatline wrinkled. And again. And again.

A missed beat.

Please, Michael.

Another wrinkle.

It wrinkled again.

And again.

And again.

"He's stabilising."

Kitt's scans told him of how thin the thread his driver was holding onto. Bonnie was still crying, tears of what, he guessed, she no longer knew. The doctor busied himself with IVs of fluid and plasma, desperate to replace what Michael had lost and was still losing.

The Trans Am's upholstery was damp, but not with rain.

They hadn't been able to move until Doctor Palmer had Michael sufficiently stabilised and the bleeding controlled. But once they were able to, the AI drove for his life.

Kitt's medical scanners didn't pause, cycling continuously, his eyes on his driver.

But Michael didn't regain consciousness the entire trip back to the hospital.

Nor the next day.

Or the day after that.

Doubts started circulating. The words 'brain damage' and 'lack of oxygen' were bandied about and Kitt's terror returned. He sat in the hospital parking lot, tapped into the building's systems until he could stand it no longer.

And left.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Hey, buddy. Where are ya?" The voice was weak, but the emotion was there.

"Michael?" For some reason belief was difficult.

"Kitt? You okay?" Michael's voice suddenly became a little stronger as concern rose in his tone.

"I…am fine, Michael. H-how are you?"

There was a pause. "Been better. I hear they want to keep me here for a while. I'm considering escape plans."

"You will do no such thing!" The alarm in Kitt's voice even surprised the AI.

"Kitt? You sure you're okay?"

"I am well, Michael. Please do not attempt to leave the hospital." He dragged medical information from the comlink signal. Michael was barely conscious. "You should rest."

"Don't wanna. Been sleeping far too much. And Bonnie was worried. Where are you, Kitt?" He could hear the frown in Michael's voice over the slurred syllables and could imagine Bonnie standing beside his bed handing over the comlink the moment his driver awoke, knowing Michael's voice would be the only one he would respond to.

"I'm-" What could he say? Could he lie? Could he tell the truth? "I will be there shortly."

Michael didn't answer for a while and for a moment, Kitt thought he might have drifted off to sleep, but then followed the familiar but mumbled words, "I need you, Kitt."

"I am coming, Michael. Please rest."

This time there was no answer, and a brief interrogation of the comlink confirmed the advent of slumber.

And Kitt turned his attention back to the man lying in front of him.

"I'm afraid I have to leave." And without saying anything further, he backed up, spun a wheel and climbed back onto the highway. Ignoring the man's pleas, he accelerated and headed back to his driver.

He assigned a secondary system to contact emergency services.

For some reason he cared little for the man's fate.

Or perhaps, too much.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
FIN.