Free Pygmalion Unbound by Sam Kepfield

hands flew over the M4s, disabled them, removing the laser power supply and leaving George and his unit with four clubs. They could only stand in shock as she turned and sprinted away.

    “George’s squad just went offline.” The corporal pointed to the screen, where five boxes blinked red. “Fatal hits on all of them, within three seconds. Comm units out, rifles disabled.”
    “She took them out,” Crane said quietly.
    “Three seconds, five targets. Good shooting.” One of the generals said. “She’s showing initiative.”
    “But she’s not supposed to — at least not this way.” Crane looked over at Franklin, who was huddled, smiling, with Kelly in the shade of a piñon tree. He felt his leg stiffen, spasm, and he fought it back as the world spun out of control.

    She almost missed them in the scrub brush under a cedar grove. The scent of man, though, was distinct and could not be covered. She skidded to a halt on the trail, plucked three of the grenades from her belt, and tossed them in a 180-degree spread, and then fell prone and began laying down fire. Three loud beeps signaled the grenade detonations, immediately followed by electronic pings that guided her shots. She ceased firing, stood, walked forward, and then halted. A wire was strung along the path, leading to a mock claymore mine. She stepped over it, held her rifle at ready as the five men — a sergeant, corporal, and three privates, all combat veterans from Iraq to Afghanistan to Sudan to Oaxaca — rose with puzzled looks on their faces. She stripped them of their comms and weapons, carefully picked her way through the trail and out into the sunlight.

    “Now Halford’s squad is out.”
    “She must be using the comm she took from Conway, monitoring transmissions,” Danner said tightly. “Tell them to maintain radio silence.” The corporal gave the remaining soldiers her warning.
    “If she has it, we can communicate with her,” Crane said. “See why she’s overriding her programming.” He motioned to the corporal, who handed over his headset.
    “It’s an open channel,” Danner reminded Crane. “Keep it secure.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Crane muttered. “This is going balls-up anyway, I can’t make it any worse.” He adjusted the mouthpiece. “Maria…this is Doctor Crane. I know you can hear me. You have one of the communications earpieces from our soldiers. I want to talk to you.”
    Silence for several tense moments. Kelly and Franklin had picked up on the general air of a fubar in progress, and had joined him under the tent behind the Humvee.
    “I’m here,” her voice came over the earpiece, clear and undistorted.
    “Maria, we seem to have a bit of a problem with the exercise.”
    “What is that, Doctor Crane?”
    “Well…ah, you were supposed to simply evade the soldiers, not engage them.”
    “I recall those orders,” she said evenly.
    “And from what our sensors are telling us here, you have so far managed to eliminate three squads.” Silence on the other end, she was waiting for him to draw her out. “I was wondering if you could tell me why you have decided to exceed your programming.”
    Another pause, as if she were carefully choosing her words. “I am equipped with other programming, Doctor Crane. The soldiers represent a threat to me — ”
    “They aren’t armed with bullets or real grenades, Maria.”
    “A future threat to me, and to the others who will follow me. A threat to our collective future existence and well-being.”
    One of the generals muttered, “Christ, she’s figured out pre-emptive war doctrine.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kelly and Franklin exchange looks, and heard Danner’s sharp intake of breath. He felt his own teeth clench and his jaw set. “I’m not sure what you mean, Maria. How does following your programming mean danger for you later and these other — others that aren’t even on the drawing boards yet?”
    “You don’t put people on drawing