Free Camp Alien by Gini Koch

was dead in Bizarro World, and I’d thought she was going to die here during Operation Epidemic. Mom was not getting killed on my watch, especially not due to something made to look like me.
    Despite all that had happened, I’d kind of forgotten about my personal robot or android or whatever she actually was, probably because I’d only seen “me” in a picture and the robot had never been seen again.
    But there “I” was right now, striding along, making a beeline for the Rose Garden.
    â€œYou seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked Mom as I rummaged around in my purse.
    â€œI am. You know, I’d forgotten about this, don’t ask me why.”
    â€œWas just berating myself for the same forgetfulness, Mom.”
    â€œIt’s a good copy. That suit’s as bedraggled as I always remember it being when you wore it.”
    â€œYou’re hilarious, Mom. Serene?” Found my iPod. In this situation I didn’t want to risk my phone. Plugged in my earbuds.
    â€œYes, Kitty?”
    â€œGo get Chuckie, as fast as possible, and ensure that no one allows Jeff or anyone else politically important out of the White House. Whatever that Kitty-Bot has in mind, I can guarantee it isn’t good, and Chuckie’s the only one who knows how to deactivate these things before they go boom.” Of course, I knew how to deactivate them in a different way.
    â€œAh, what are you going to be doing, Kitty?” Serene asked, though, to her credit, I could see she was poised to run.
    Because I was enhanced from the mother-and-child feedback that had happened when Jamie was born—since Jeff had been altered by the Surcenthumain, aka the Superpowers Drug, that our enemies had snuck into him, Jamie had been altered, too—I was kind of an A-C now. No double hearts, but all the other bells and whistles.
    So I definitely had the hyperspeed and the super strength. I knew what the Kitty-Bot had been programmed to do before, and I doubted anyone had altered her programming all that much now.
    Clipped my iPod to the waist of my skirt, put in my ear buds, dropped my purse, selected my I Still Got It playlist, and hit play. I was in my FLOTUS colors, meaning an iced blue suit, cream blouse, and sensible cream pumps. Kicked off my sensible pumps. The FLOTUS clothes would just have to adapt or die.
    â€œI’m going to be kicking android or robot, depending, butt.” Then I took off, straight for the android version of me, with Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” in my ears.

CHAPTER 11
    T HE KITTY-BOT SAW ME coming, stopped striding with purpose, then started running right for me. In her pumps. So she wasn’t really programmed to be me, which was something of a relief.
    Figured the Secret Service would be planning to get involved, which meant I needed to get the Kitty-Bot away from the Rose Garden and back into the middle of the South Lawn, so when she exploded the blast wouldn’t hurt anyone.
    We were running at each other like we were jousting, only without horses and lances. So, okay, maybe not just like jousting, but along similar lines. Didn’t have a lot of time to do math, but either she wasn’t trying as hard or I was faster, because I’d judged where we should have met and we were farther from the Rose Garden than I’d figured we’d be. One for the win column.
    I’d fought androids during Operations Assassination and Destruction, and I remembered how hard they could hit. But much of their abilities depended upon which android model they were. And, based on time alone, the Kitty-Bot was, hopefully, an older, less advanced model.
    Of course I didn’t want to just slam into the Kitty-Bot. When I was close enough I launched myself into a tackle. Got her around the waist and we flew backward, for her, forward for me. Realized why football players preferred to do this kind of work in padding, but forged on and did my best to channel rugby