KR Fan Fiction: Loyalties
Another of my patented Therapy-Codas! I thought Bonnie deserved a little closure in 'Chariot of Gold' (season one), so here it is.
Fandom: Classic Knight Rider
Rating: Universal (heh)
Word Count: 3, 795 words (it's an extended coda!)
Summary: “He chose you, Michael,” she said simply. “He overrode my instructions. Kitt is more than just bits of code, now - he’s learning, and finding things out for himself. I wish you could know how far he’s come in the time that I’ve been with him.”
Thanks again to the very wonderful
sara_merry99 for ::flailswooning:: and ::bouncing:: in encouragement, and for picking up any dropped stitches. Also, for supplying a far punchier title than my fatigued brain could come up with!
Loyalties
Coda for ‘Chariot of Gold’ (season one)
Dropping down into the armchair, Michael Knight let himself relax for the first time in two days. The protesting springs in the seat gave beneath his weight, but he fit snugly into the leather upholstery shaped by age and constant use. Sometimes he thought that this chair was the only familiar marker in his life, like a buoy in the ocean - even his face was less than a year old. Michael Long had dragged the old recliner with him from his parent’s garage to his first apartment, and from California to Nevada; for Michael Knight, it was the only personal item he owned from a past now dead and buried.
What happened to those days, he wondered. Days of coming home to his own space, collapsing into the best seat in the house, and falling asleep in front of the box after a cold beer or two. Now ‘home’ was the Foundation mansion, of which he might claim possession of only a small corner, and he rarely got a chance to enjoy even that basic share; if he wasn’t on the road with Kitt, which was enjoyable but fatiguing, then he was usually risking his neck after being dispatched by Devon on some mission for FLAG. Fighting in Vietnam had placed him in mortal danger against an invisible enemy, serving in the force had been tough but rewarding, and both experiences had converged to change his life after nearly ending it. Yet neither a tour of duty with the army or a career with the police could match the pace of his challenging position as Wilton Knight’s lone crusader against injustice.
Michael had been knocked out, shot at, blown up and generally targeted more times that he cared to think about, and all this in the short space of a few months. The only reason he hadn’t lost his life all over again was because of Kitt, the Knight Industries 2000 entrusted to him - or perhaps even left to guard over him - by the old man who had resurrected Michael Long as Michael Knight. That incredible car, and the intelligent computer within, was another constant feature that Michael welcomed in his new life. He trusted Kitt to always be there, a friend to support and protect him without condition; loyalty so firm and powerful was a rare commodity, and Kitt asked little in return for his devoted service. They were an unusual but effective partnership of humanity and technology, and Michael gathered confidence from their unique alliance.
Yet one arrogant genius and his colony of mad scientists had challenged the strength of his bond with Kitt, turning two important members of Michael Knight’s new family against him. Professor Deauville had poisoned Bonnie’s mind and used her to reprogram Kitt, a form of attack that Michael’s limited understanding of computers had not prepared him for, leaving the Foundation team divided and broken. Michael hadn’t been able to reach either of them, and had suddenly felt very vulnerable. He depended on Kitt and cared for Bonnie, but if the two were working together, what was left for him? Programming determined Kitt’s relationship with Michael, but Bonnie wrote the code.
Twitching the curtain, Michael peered through the window at the landscaped grounds to the rear of the mansion. Instinctively, he lifted to his mouth the comlink that rarely left his wrist these days. “Kitt, buddy, you there?” he asked softly.
Normally such a redundant question would have earned him a droll reply from his partner - ‘Where would I go?’ - but recent experience had taught him that Kitt might not always be able to answer when he called, so Michael asked anyway.
He was grateful when the small red indicator on the watch face flashed, and he heard Kitt’s voice greeting him instead of the dead air he had met with earlier that same day.
“I’m in the garage, Michael,” his partner informed him. “How are you?”
“A few bruises, but no worse than usual,” Michael said. “What about you? Any parts left over after Bonnie’s emergency surgery?” he quipped, and then realised that neither car nor technician would likely find any humour in the day’s events.
“I am back to normal, Michael,” Kitt replied in a level tone. He seemed to hesitate - in normal circumstances, the artificial intelligence knew exactly what he was going to say, without pause or correction - and then added: “But Bonnie is finding the readjustment harder.”
“Bonnie?” Michael echoed, sitting straight in the chair. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She has been very quiet since our return from the Helios estate,” Kitt confided. “After calibrating my systems in the mobile unit, a routine task which she insisted on carrying out for herself, I was told to drive back to the garage without her. She is still sitting in the semi, Michael. I’m worried.”
Michael believed him, sharing his concern. “How long has she been there?”
“25 minutes and 14 seconds, to be exact,” Kitt said. “Michael, can I ask you a favour?”
On his feet and halfway to the door, Michael announced to the comlink: “I’m on my way.”
The immense structure housing Kitt’s garage and maintenance bays was located on the perimeter of the estate, masked as far as possible from sight by a tall border of fir trees. Wilton Knight had wanted to preserve the beautiful landscaping of his grounds and keep prying eyes away from his industrial secrets, so the long, compact structure erected on low ground was both aesthetically and practically discreet. Any visitors to the Foundation saw only the public facade of the mansion and its ornamental grounds - the patio facing the reflective pond, curving gravel paths through lawns and gardens, a tennis court and swimming pool - while remaining blissfully unaware of the futuristic technology being developed and maintained on the same site.
Michael cut through the solarium at the back of the house, and set off across the grass with a determined stride. Security lights with motion sensors flashed on in his wake, but aside from the helpful illumination they gave out, he ignored them and the cameras he knew were now trained on him. All he could think about was undoing the damage that Deauville had caused, and keeping the team together.
When the paved driveway intersected his cross-country route, Michael looked ahead towards the garage. The two metal doors, one tall enough to admit the semi’s tractor, were closed, but he had glimpsed the top of the trailer on his way down the hill. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner onto the concrete forecourt, the black mass of the Foundation’s mobile unit loomed out of the darkness ahead. There were no lights visible, so Bonnie must have raised the ramp, if she were still inside. Was she planning on spending the night out here as punishment, Michael wondered?
“Kitt, I’m outside the garage now,” Michael announced into the comlink. His voice triggered the activation of several high-powered floodlights mounted on fence posts and above the garage doors, briefly dazzling Michael with artificial daylight. “Is Bonnie still here?” he asked.
“Yes, Michael,” Kitt confirmed, “I can see her via the video-phone cameras. She’s sitting at the computer but the screen is blank and she hasn’t moved since I left. Shall I let her know that you’re here?”
“No, buddy,” Michael told him. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Thank you, Michael.”
“You really look out for her, don’t you?” he asked, looking up into the surveillance camera on the garage.
“Of course,” Kitt answered plainly. “Bonnie is very important to me.”
Michael nodded slowly, aware of the depth and the emotion - a human condition that Kitt constantly maintained he did not possess - in that simple statement. “She means a lot to me too, partner,” he said.
The massive trailer was sealed tight, and the only lights to be seen were reflections bouncing off the stylised black and gold finish. Michael paced back and forth along the length of the rig, debating how best to approach his mission without alarming Bonnie or further antagonising her, until he remembered that Kitt was watching and waiting from the garage. With a sigh, he walked up to the side access door and rapped quickly and lightly on the polished metal. It might make her jump, but he wanted her permission to enter the mobile unit, which he considered to be Bonnie’s domain.
Michael took a step back when he heard the latch slide free inside. The door swung wide until it hit the outside of the trailer, revealing Bonnie framed in the opening. She raised a hand to shield her eyes against the fierce glare from the security lamps. “Michael, what are you doing here?”
“I came to ask you the same question,” he smiled, looking up at her for a change.
“How did you know I was out here?” she asked, not giving an inch in space or expression. Her head rose slightly, and he caught her glancing at the garage. “Kitt told you.”
“He cares about you, Bonnie,” Michael said, hedging. “We all do.”
“Well, thanks,” she mumbled, “but I’m fine. I just have to finish up some tasks here, and then I’ll turn in. You should head back, Michael, and get some rest. Kitt, if you’re listening over the link, you’re supposed to be running an overnight systems diagnostic, not monitoring me.”
The comlink stayed silent. Michael stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for her to stop issuing half-hearted commands. “It wasn’t your fault, Bonnie,” he offered gently.
She passed a hand over her eyes. “What do you know about it, Michael?” she snapped, and then turned to seek the refuge of her mobile base.
Taking advantage of Bonnie’s retreat, Michael hauled himself into the trailer after her. She didn’t look back, but disappeared into the kitchen compartment at the front of the unit, out of sight. He heard her clattering around in the cupboards and drawers, sloshing water into the kettle and tinkering around with various utensils.
“If that’s coffee you’re constructing, I’d love some,” Michael called out over the racket.
The kitchen fell silent for a second, and then Bonnie quietly resumed her preparations. “Sure,” she answered him.
Thinking it wise not to crowd her, Michael waited in the carpeted office area of the semi. He turned around slowly, thumbs slung in the front pockets of his jeans, taking in the familiar setting. Filling most of the space was Kitt’s bay, now empty of course, but still smelling faintly of oily engine and exhaust fumes. The wall-mounted directional lights in that section had been dimmed, with only the two spots closest to the work station providing any illumination at all. Beneath one of the beams, to Michael’s right, the computer terminal that linked Bonnie to FLAG and Kitt to Bonnie waited on standby, blinking a red LED at him.
“White with a cinnamon stick, right?”
Michael turned to find Bonnie stepping carefully over the raised threshold with two steaming mugs in her hands. He laughed. “Yeah, that’s how I like it.”
“Shame, because we’ve run out of cream and I used the last cinnamon stick to test Kitt’s oil,” she volleyed back with a smile. “It will have to be black, with two sugars.”
“Even better,” he said, taking his drink from her. “Thanks.”
They stood awkwardly, sipping at hot coffee, until Bonnie glanced behind her for the nearest place to sit. When she lowered herself into one of the plush swivel chairs, Michael took up her vacated seat by the computer terminal. He didn’t know her well enough to intuit what she might be feeling, but if getting her to talk was the only way to find out, this was a good start.
“You look tired, Bonnie,” Michael ventured, taking in the dark smudges under her eyes and the weary frown of her mouth. “Didn’t Doctor Alpert say you needed to rest?”
Bonnie shrugged. “I’m OK,” she told him. Then, without looking up, added: “I messed up.”
He stared at her, not sure he’d heard right. “Bonnie - what did I just say? None of what happened was your fault,” Michael protested. “Deauville used you! He drugged you, for God’s sake -”
She shook her head, still refusing to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand, Michael,” she said, her low voice trembling. “I helped Professor Deauville! I took him on a tour of the labs, boasted about my work - I told him about Kitt!”
Michael remembered the video tape he’d found in the Helios lounge, labelled with his partner’s name. Could those images have come from the Foundation’s own surveillance recordings - from Kitt’s memory? Finding footage of his partner’s capabilities in the hands of strangers had spooked him last night, but this new twist appalled him. FLAG were supposed to be protecting Kitt, not exposing him to attack!
Controlling his breathing, Michael had to remind himself that Bonnie was the last person to ever intentionally put Kitt at risk. “That’s crap, Bonnie,” he snapped, frustrated by her guilt. “You didn’t know what he was planning when he made you a Helios member. None of us did!”
She smiled wryly into her coffee. “I failed the entrance exam, didn’t I?”
Michael thought of the folded test results now sat on the shelf in his room. “Does it matter?” he asked. “It’s over now. You’re OK, we got Kitt back, nobody was hurt -”
“You could have been killed, Michael!” she blurted, finally facing him. Her green eyes were sore but dry, too tired for tears. “I reprogrammed Kitt - I had to rip out his memory because he kept asking about you! If he hadn’t broken through his programming ...” Her voice failed, and she gulped at her coffee. “I betrayed you both,” she whispered.
Michael was frowning. “’Broken through his programming’?” he echoed. “Bonnie, it was Kitt’s dominant program that saved me, remember? I knew he could never take a human life, especially mine - that’s why I stood my ground and confronted him.”
He could still hear the angry growl of Kitt revving his engine, the prow of the car lunging ever closer to its driver, and then the scream of tires against the wet blacktop when he threw on the brakes at the last second. Deauville had been urging him on while Michael tried to call him off, and the stress of being caught in the middle had come close to overloading Kitt’s systems. But Michael had been certain that Kitt wouldn’t hurt him, that he still knew his own mind - and his partner.
“No, Michael,” Bonnie said, her lips still curved in that sad half-smile. “When Kitt turned on you, his dominant program was to obey Professor Deauville. That code was incompatible with his old programming - the preservation of human life - but should have taken priority in any algorithm.”
“Then what happened?”
“He chose you, Michael,” she said simply. “He overrode my instructions. Kitt is more than just bits of code, now - he’s learning, and finding things out for himself. I wish you could know how far he’s come in the time that I’ve been with him.”
Michael tried to take in what Bonnie was telling him, but discovered that he had already come to think the same way, if not in so many words - Kitt was more than just self-aware, he was forging personal attachments with those around him. There was nothing artificial in his affection for Bonnie, the respect he showed Devon, or his devotion to Michael. This was Kitt’s family, only he had learned to trust and love them sooner than the human half of the partnership.
He met Bonnie’s eyes. “You sound sad that he’s growing.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I’m sad that I was the first one to hurt him.”
“Oh, Bonnie, don’t say that!” Michael sighed.
He got to his feet, dumping the mug of cold coffee on the desk behind him, and closed the polite distance between them with half a stride. Crouching beside her, he put an arm around her shoulder and held her in an awkward embrace. “There’s nothing wrong with Kitt, except that he’s worried about you.”
“I told him he could trust me,” she said, her words coming out muffled against his shoulder. “And then I broke into his programming without asking, and lied to him. How can I ever get him to believe in me again?”
Michael let her go. “He knows that wasn’t really you, Bonnie. I do, too.”
“Thank you for that,” she said, no longer afraid to meet his gaze. “I’ve been sat out here trying to think, not wanting to sleep until I could make sense of ... what I did. Pointless, I know - my dad would say, ‘like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted’. I needed to put it all into perspective, and you’ve helped me do that.”
“I helped?” Michael scoffed. “You must have been in a bad way! How are you feeling now?”
“My head aches,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes closed. “It feels like a block of wood.”
“That’ll be all the brains you’ve got crammed in there,” he joked.
“The side effects of ‘advanced intelligence’, I guess,” she said, quoting the pompous speech of Professor Deauville.
“Come on,” he told her, taking her hand. “I’ll walk back with you. I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with an earth mover, and you look like it’s been a long day.”
Bonnie laughed. “Gee, thanks!” She moved away, stepping over to the work station to gather up Michael’s abandoned mug with her own. “Michael?”
“Yeah?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m glad you fought for Kitt today.”
“I was fighting for all of us,” he told her.
He saw her back to the house, leaving her to climb slowly up the stairs to her room. His own bed was calling him, but there was somebody else he had to talk to before he could sleep. This friend had no features to betray concealed feelings, no shoulders or hands that he could hold, and didn’t even drink coffee, but Michael wanted to be with him all the same.
When he returned to the garage, noting the dark shell of the mobile unit he had only just left, Kitt was not expecting him. Michael suspected that he had been listening in over the comlink, or ‘monitoring’ him, and was now satisfied that everything was sorted out. Michael usually felt a twinge of paranoia when he thought of his every move and conversation being observed by his computerised partner, but tonight he found only comfort in Kitt’s presence.
It made no sense to suspect his motives in eavesdropping, anyway - who would Kitt be likely to blab any overheard secrets or personal information to? Once, not so very long ago, Michael suspected that the Knight 2000 was reporting back to Devon, or that he told tales to Bonnie about how his driver mistreated and disrespected him. But today Kitt had broken through his programming to protect Michael, showing that his first loyalty was to his partner, his friend, and not to whoever ‘controlled’ his CPU. Kitt had chosen him over Bonnie’s command to obey Deauville, and Michael was touched by the gesture.
He had got it badly wrong in the stand-off against Deauville: Kitt was more than just ‘his car’. No registration paper or computer program could prove to him that Kitt belonged, and wanted to belong, to him more than his partner saving his life when he could so easily have killed him.
Michael pressed the palm of his hand to the print identification pad. The light turned green, releasing the door, and he stepped into the garage. Kitt was parked in his bay, emergency lighting defining the the sleek form of his body like moonlight on the still surface of a lake.
The only distinct feature that Michael could make out was the ruby red beam of the scanner, slowly tracking back and forth against the garage door. He smiled.
“I came to let you know how Bonnie’s doing,” Michael announced, leaning against the door frame, “but I guess you’re already aware, hey, pal?”
“Michael!” Kitt responded brightly. Fluorescent lighting flickered to life around the garage, detaching work surfaces and machines from the surrounding shadows. “I thought you returned to the house?”
“Yeah, I did, partner,” Michael said, pushing away from the wall. “I had to make sure Bonnie wasn’t going to sit in the semi all night.”
“Did she talk to you?”
Michael paused in front of Kitt’s prow, struck by an unsettling flash of déjà vu with the light of the scanner against his legs, and gave the windshield a look.
“You weren’t listening?” he asked.
“Of course not!” Kitt objected, sounding appalled with the question. “You told me you would ‘take it from here’, which was why I asked for your help in the first place, so I left it to you.”
Shamefaced, Michael hurriedly backed down. “Sorry, partner,” he said, stooping to touch his fingers to the low sweep of Kitt’s hood. “I appreciate that. Bonnie’s OK, by the way - she’s tired, but not so down on herself like she was.”
She hadn’t told him not to discuss their conversation with Kitt, but Michael thought it would only add to Bonnie’s feelings of guilt and embarrassment if he shared. And he knew he wouldn’t like to find out that Bonnie and Kitt had been talking about him behind his back, although he suspected that they did.
“Bonnie is very proud and independent,” Kitt observed. “I know that she hates to lose control.”
“Don’t we all, Kitt,” Michael sighed.
The door popped open for him, and Michael dropped into his seat. The dash was on half-power, with LEDs showing on those gauges measuring energy output and sensor range but not navigation or fuel intake.
“What do you out here at night?” Michael asked abstractly, and waited for the red panel of the voice modulator to dance into life.
“The same as you do when you sleep, Michael - I recharge my systems,” Kitt replied seriously. “Bonnie also has me run routine diagnostics overnight, but those are low-level operations which don’t require a lot of power.”
“Like dreaming, hey?”
“Not really, Michael,” the computer said. “In fact, not at all. From the information I have in my databanks, dreaming -”
“Never mind!” Michael laughed. “Never mind. It was just a thought.”
He settled back against the plush upholstery, with Kitt all around him, and let his eyelids drift closed. More than she would ever realise, Bonnie had also helped him to put everything into perspective: this was home, with friends he cared for and who cared for him.
FIN