Endgame

Michael Knight stared hard at the chequered screen on Kitt's monitor. His mind wasn't really on the game, but chess had become a way of speaking without words between the two of them. He would offer to 'let' Kitt win if the sensitive computer was being particularly moody, and Kitt would suggest a game whenever he wanted to spend some off-duty time with Michael. Depending on the subtext, the result was either a relaxing game between friends, with pride and competition put aside for an hour, or a lengthy tournament in which Michael played to win and Kitt became an electronic Karpov who wouldn't let him.

This game was Michael's attempt to make amends. He didn't know what Kitt was playing for.

"Nope," he sighed, slapping his hand against the dash. "I give in."

"The term is 'resign', Michael," Kitt corrected him, "and are you sure?"

"Yeah, pal," he said, scrutinising the white pieces for any obvious moves Kitt might use to challenge his resignation. "I'm through."

"Would you like me to save the game?"

Michael frowned. "Sure, why not?"

"Thank you, Michael."

"But don't spend all night brushing up on theory and running simulations," Michael warned. "You have an unfair advantage as it is."

"I won't, you know that," Kitt protested. "Actually, chess is more about psychology than logic or mathematics, giving the human mind a natural advantage over a computer program."

Michael gave a snort of laughter. "I was kidding! I know you always play fair, Kitt."

He swung his feet out of the car and stamped them on the garage floor, trying to restore some sensation. His backside was numb, and his tired eyes were stinging from staring at Kitt's monitor half the night, but the discomfort was a small price to pay for restoring their friendship.

"Thanks for a good game, partner," he said, levering himself upright against the doorframe.

"Any time, Michael," Kitt gave his usual reply. "Will it be business as usual in the morning?"

Throwing his arms above his head, Michael stretched until various joints popped. "No doubt," he groaned. "You got something planned?"

"Of course not, Michael," Kitt said, "but I like to be prepared."

"And that's exactly where I'm going now," Michael yawned; "to prepare myself with at least eight hours sleep. 'Night, Kitt. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Michael."

He got all the way to the door built into a side wall of the garage, his hand on the latch, before Kitt called out to him.

"Michael?"

Michael turned and looked back at the car, still lit from inside by the dashboard. "Yeah, buddy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Michael," Kitt told him, "but I want to thank you for something you said."

Perplexed, Michael walked back to his partner's side. "Something I said? When?"

"At the Fire Mountain facility," Kitt explained, "after I stopped speaking to you." Michael smiled. "I don't know if you meant it, or what the consequences would have been, but you told me that you would abort entry into the facility if I didn't think I could penetrate the concrete wall. A redundant question of course, but I am grateful for the gesture."

Had he said that? Breaking into the chemical storage facility was all a bit of a blur to him now, but Kitt's memory was faultless and that moment obviously stood out for him. Opening the driver's door, Michael crouched down and faced the dash. "Grateful? Why?"

"For asking my opinion," Kitt told him simply. "You were willing to risk a crucial stage of the mission for me."

"Better late than never, I guess, hey pal?" Michael offered weakly. "Kitt – would you have agreed to the plan, if I'd told you in advance?" he asked, idly twitching the locked steering wheel.

"Of course, Michael," Kitt replied. "The worst part was not knowing if you were safe, or where to locate you. Forewarned, I would still have been concerned, that seems to be my default setting, but not helpless. Perhaps I could even have gone with you to New Orleans, instead of being stolen to order."

"That sounds like a better deal," Michael agreed. "It was hard without you."

When he stepped out of the garage five minutes later, there was someone waiting for him beneath the security light. The sight of the polished Devon Miles standing outside in his tailored suit was so incongruous that Michael was briefly lost for words.

"What's the matter with you?" Devon asked, batting a persistent moth away from his face.

"Ah, nothing," Michael shrugged. "Just didn't expect to find you out here, that's all."

"Yes, I see your point," the older man conceded. "It must be that I've reverted to old habits these past few days, having to arrange clandestine meetings in unusual locations." Devon hastily corrected himself: "That is, old habits from my career in the SOE."

"Right," Michael said. "I could have saved you a walk, though – I was heading for the office."

"Then let's start in that direction, shall we?" Halfway across the forecourt, Devon cleared his throat. "How is Kitt?" he asked.

Michael looked at him, and then glanced over his shoulder at the looming structure of the garage. "He's fine. Why?"

"You've been sitting in there for over two hours," Devon informed him. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, just a long game of chess," he said. "We're still not finished, in fact – Kitt's saved it for another time."

"Chess," Devon echoed, nodding. "That's good."

Michael pulled a face, not sure what to say.

"Was it worth it, Michael?"

"What?" Michael asked, studying his boss' profile.

"Going to such lengths to trap LaSalle."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, but at great risk to yourself," Devon said. "You were never meant to be a lone operative, Michael, but part of a team. Bonnie reminded me of that."

"Kitt was saying much the same thing." Michael smiled. "Told you there'd be trouble."

Devon stopped in the middle of the drive. "You haven't answered my question, Michael."

"Was it worth it?" Michael asked, turning to face him. "Yes. LaSalle is where he belongs, making another little corner of the world a safer place, and Linda got her daughter back. Would I do it again? Not alone."

"Kitt?"

"He's my edge, Devon – without him, you'd have been looking for a replacement a whole lot sooner," Michael said. "Does that answer your question?"

FIN