Epilog

Allison Six

by C.M. Hiebert

It was cold in Ramsey’s bunker, forty-two degree Fahrenheit. The low temperature improved the operation of the mainframe computer sitting in the middle of the room and didn’t bother Ramsey in the least. His T-eight flesh couldn’t even feel the cold, especially after his third scotch.

The bunker was located farther inland than his palace and was three hundred feet below ground. Its command center was a perfect circle about a hundred feet in diameter. Plasma screen televisions lined the walls of half the circle, pulsing and flickering with images from Burma. Ramsey always had at least one of his Super Heroes designated to place cameras around any battle or incident. Portable cameras were also installed in some their armor and helmets. Ramsey had stopped fighting after the newer, heavy-duty Ultras started showing up. By then, he was worth more as a leader. But in his heart, he was still a warrior and wanted to see every punch and proton beam. He studied the battles, memorized them, analyzed his errors. Unlike Nelson, Ramsey learned from his mistakes.

Case in point: What had just happened in Burma. Ramsey was pleased – thrilled, actually – with how his troops performed. Allison had taken out four of Nelson’s Ultras by herself before the fight even started. Again, Nelson’s arrogance had cost him. As he did in the 1970s, the Union Ultra leader had sent a small strike team to secure a beachhead and harass any early arriving opponents. He hadn’t known that the new Allison could fly at hypersonic speeds. She’d beaten the team to Rangoon, taken out Nelson’s planted Ultra, and out-muscled the first wave. By the time the Doctor had cajoled and begged enough of his Union members to fill two more Interceptors, Ramsey was in place and waiting.

Peacehammer’s arrival was the cherry on top. Ramsey had half-suspected that the blue Ultra’s Greater Mind, peace-loving routine was a feint to lure him into the open, maybe to find out how the fifth Allison had turned out. Judging by Peacehammer’s arrival, it looked like his suspicion had been correct.

Had Nelson been so stupid to think he didn’t have a contingency plan for Peacehammer? Had he forgotten how Rollo died? Did he think because Peacehammer was a flyer he couldn’t be held down and blasted? Arrogance.

And then there was the problem with Allison. Ramsey didn’t lie to himself -- he knew that Burma had been a test. True, he wanted Aung San on the throne, but when the Burmese Ultra refused his help, he had sent Allison anyway. Not only could he make a statement about his philosophy, he could see what Allison Five was truly made of. Aung San had demanded her withdrawal, but Ramsey had let her stay and have it out with Karen McVee. He wanted see what she had become. And, as he suspected, this version was homicidal. She didn’t care about their philosophy or politics, she just wanted to kill somebody.

He knew she wouldn’t return when he called for retreat. That was part of his plan. That was the test.

When Peacehammer showed up, he had secretly hoped the blue Ultra would take her out. Ironically, it was his own strategy which had kept that from happening. They had lured Peacehammer into the trap easily, and Big Boom’s proton charges were more effective than he'd anticipated. He had expected the execution to take at least a half hour, but by the second shot, Peacehammer was down for the count. If Big Boom survived, they’d have to adjust their tactics to incorporate this new information.

Peacehammer wasn’t as invulnerable as previously believed.

Aung San was the biggest surprise. Ramsey didn’t have a great view of the fight’s final moments, but what he had seen showed him he had underestimated the new ruler of Burma. This man was not a gun. Ramsey didn’t know what he was. That would all have to come out later.

In the short term, Ramsey would recognize Burma’s new government tomorrow at a press conference -- ignoring the fact that Aung San had just killed his strongest Ultra and the woman he loved -- and then work on mending any rifts between himself and Aung San. There could be no hard feelings in business or politics.

He looked at the stopwatch in his left hand. An hour had passed since the fight ended and the silver egg that rested in the center of the circular room still showed no sign of change. The ovoid sat in a crucible lined in black velvet that looked like a giant eggcup, which, technically, it was.

Ramsey had never witnessed Allison’s rebirth before. He had always been on the battlefield or at his palace when the event took place. As soon as Peacehammer showed up he had moved to the bunker, just in case.

He finished off the tumbler of single malt and tried to push back his fear. There was a good chance he’d done the wrong thing. What if this Allison was even worse than the last? What if each version became progressively more insane? What if she became so powerful she couldn’t be stopped? All of these questions had haunted him, conjuring various scenarios of his own demise. Yet he had rolled the dice anyway.

The second hand of the stopwatch swept beyond the 12 to log one hour and seven minutes. Ramsey had become distracted in his worry and jumped when the sound of crackling energy filled the room. A halo of white sparks appeared from nowhere and danced around the shiny metal oval, snapping and chattering with power. A shot of adrenalin made his heart skip a beat.

As he watched, the egg floated from its soft nest to hover about six feet in the air. He knew that Allison did not hatch from the egg, but grew from it. And now, it began to tremble and change shape, lengthening into an elongated ellipse, taking on a liquid consistency, like a large glob of floating mercury.

Arcs of electricity crawled from the egg to various locations around the room, shorting out the television screens and various control panels. Ramsey realized that his mainframe was probably wiped.

The elongated egg bubbled and bulged, losing its symmetry. Unformed appendages reached out from the glob, slowly gaining detail, taking the shape of arms and legs, hands and feet. A knob rose from the top of the object and the image of a face boiled at its center. The definite shape of a woman now stood in the room with him.

The form began to solidifying and gain detail. The face took on its familiar lines. Allison’s eyes opened and found him.

The jagged discharges of energy subsided, leaving the room smelling of melted plastic and ozone.

As always, this Allison looked different than the last: Her shoulder plates were rounded rather than sharp. Her hair was longer. The rivet-like nodules around her neck and shoulders were arranged differently with a sense of decoration.

“Allison?” Ramsey said, stepping toward the new woman. She looked up and smiled.

Opening her mouth as if to speak, her face twisted into a mask of pain and she screamed, shredding the air with primal agony. Trapped within the buried room, the horrific sound made Ramsey hold his breath. It’s shrill cutting note made his ears hurt and his spine crawl.

Allison fell to her back on the floor and began to convulse. The single inhuman scream did not stop. Ramsey wanted to run to help her, but his fear turned him into a statue.

Still on her back, the metal woman lifted herself up on her hands and feet in crab-fashion, her faced clenched in suffering. As he watched, Ramsey saw her stomach grow, swelling like a balloon. For a second, he thought she was going to explode.

When the new egg shot from between her legs, it bounced around the room like a ping-pong ball, smashing consoles, shattering plasma screens. The scream ceased abruptly and the bulge in her abdomen deflated. The egg stopped ricocheting and spun on the floor, slowing to a halt. Allison collapsed.

With his heart pounding against his rib cage, his conscious mind regained control and he went to her.

“Stu,” she said between gasps. Tears streaked her metal cheeks. “Oh, my God, Stu.”

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he said at a loss for other words. He knelt beside her and cradled her in his arms.

“What have I done? That girl…” Allison hugged him hard. “What was wrong with me?”

Her voice sounded different and its timbre tugged at an almost forgotten memory. He pulled away so he could better see her face. It only took him an instant to notice the change; the softer mouth; the smooth brow; her eyes, gentle and aware. She almost looked like she did the first time he met her.

“You were sick,” he said, as a new emotion spread warmth through his chest and stomach. He had gambled and won more than he dreamed possible. “I had to know how bad.”

“The rage…The hunger to kill. You don’t know,” she looked up and touched his face. “I hid so much from you. It was like…a drug. I craved the feeling. Even you, Stu. I even thought about eventually killing...Oh, Stu…”

Sitting on the floor, he held her closely again, feeling her warm solid body in his arms, rocking her back and forth.

“It’s over now, Allison. Everything’s all right.”

THE END