Wings of Redemption (The Terra Nova Chronicles Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  I do not-not share your optimistic appraisal…zzzzt…of the situation. Our internal components-components are not waterproof…zzzzt…they will fail under prolonged submersion-submersion.

  “I know.”

  An energy bolt zipped past, smashing through a window to MAC’s right, sending glass and metal spraying.

  Drone Two-Two-Two in position.

  “Finally,” MAC said, rotating one arm to point straight behind him. An alarm chimed twice as CID locked on to his first target, a Netherguard entering the alley behind them. A red outline drew itself around the tall biomechanical figure as informational panels flashed open, estimating damage potential. MAC’s pulse laser fired, green energy flared, and the bolt slammed into the Netherguard. Green tendrils of energy flashed out from the impact point, lashing out around the Netherguard’s body, but it did not fall.

  Negligible damage, CID advised.

  MAC fired again, this time aiming for one of the legs. The impact knocked the leg out from under the pursuing Netherguard, sending it toppling to the alley floor. It bounced across the pavement, limbs flailing, hands losing their grip on the energy halberd.

  Negligible damage, CID repeated.

  The Netherguard scrambled to get to its feet, reaching for its weapon. A second rounded the corner, crashing into the first, sending them both toppling to the ground. They landed in a tangle of limbs, and even as they struggled to pull apart, more Netherguard rounded the corner, adding to the pile.

  “Remove the safety protocols,” MAC said.

  Removing protocols is not-not-not…zzzzt…standard procedure. This-this course of action is not-not-not recommended.

  “Override and remove the protocols.”

  The counter displaying the distance remaining to the edge of the river was rapidly decreasing.

  Fifteen hecres.

  Working.

  Several more bolts of energy shot past MAC, chewing through the buildings on either side and the ground behind him. A bolt caught his shoulder and sent him crashing into the tenement building to his right. Immediately, MAC adjusted, pushing himself forward as his arm tore a long gouge through the brick, sending debris and dust into the air behind him.

  Ten hecres.

  MAC pushed himself off the wall and reacquired his course, centering himself on the displayed approach vector. “CID?”

  Working.

  “You might expedite.”

  Five hecres. They’d be at the water’s edge in four strides.

  “Anytime would be fine.”

  An iron retaining fence separated the sidewalk and the flowing blue water beyond. To MAC’s left and right, the river cut through the city, bisected by arched bridges that he would not be able to reach without giving significant ground to the trailing Netherguard. If they were going to get away, there was only one way to escape.

  Disabling the final safety protocol now, CID said.

  “Reroute all available power to the legs,” MAC said as a red light at the top of his optical display flashed to green. He took a final step on the pavement and stepped onto the rail.

  Done.

  MAC coiled down, selecting the first target in his optical display. CID calculated the angle and MAC launched himself over the water. A microcycle later, he landed on the bow of a small fishing barge, pushing the boat’s hull under the water. CID, having already calculated the angle for the next jump, splashed the data across the optical display and MAC kicked off again, this time launching himself slightly upstream.

  Angry shouts from the Ultari on the boats echoed after him as Netherguard energy bolts zipped past. New lines appeared in MAC’s optical display, plotting his projected path to the next boat, then the next and the next.

  Water splashed around him as he landed on the stern of the third boat. An Ultari sailor gave a shout as the boat rocked, sending him toppling over the side. Another lunged for MAC as he coiled to jump, getting within arm’s reach before he was mowed down by Netherguard fire.

  MAC reached the opposite bank in another jump, making a crater in the soft earth. He sprinted up the bank, weaving between several groups of surprised onlookers, all scrambling to get out of the way. Two weren’t fast enough and dropped under the Netherguard’s desperate fire.

  Drone Two has-has-has been terminated.

  MAC ignored him, pressing on through the crowd, aiming for a narrow walkway between two residential towers. He made several other direction changes, pushing hard through a maze of towers, across main roads and down service alleys.

  Connection with-with-with Drone…zzzzt…One has been lost, CID said. Power levels dropping below sixty percent.

  “Almost there,” MAC said, watching his map.

  He stopped behind a squat warehouse in the shadow of an old, crumbling tenement building. The maintenance access to the waste disposal system was a round hatch, bolted into the pavement. The bolts snapped when he pulled. MAC dropped into the shaft, pulling the hatch shut behind him, his optical sensors automatically adjusting to the darkness.

  The chances of our making-making another escape like zzzzt…that—

  “I know.”

  ****

  The small silver orb that was CID’s matrix hovered just over MAC’s right arm assembly, considering their work. It was rare that CID’s capsule left its protective enclosure inside MAC’s skull, but for some processes, it was easier for them to work completely separate.

  Additional welds here-here and here will give the… zzzzt… pulse laser more-more stability and accuracy when firing, CID said, indicating the points on MAC’s right arm in his optical display. The wireframe representation rotated slightly, giving MAC a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of his limb. A secondary panel showed MAC the view from CID’s external feed.

  MAC hit the locations with his plasma welder, holding the material with his right hand, folded backwards. The torch flashed, sending sparks dancing across his arm and onto the floor. After completing both welds, MAC extended his arm, rotating his hand back into proper alignment, and a targeting reticle appeared in his optical display. He fired, keeping the power of the pulse cannon at .01 percent.

  A green light flashed, and a minuscule bolt of energy streaked across the room, smacking into the plaster wall. Flecks of paint and masonry sprayed, leaving behind a small, round scorch mark where it impacted.

  Negligible structural damage-damage.

  “I would hope so,” MAC said, rotating his arm over and firing again. The second bolt hit precisely where the first had, leaving no further sign that another shot had been fired.

  Satisfied, MAC opened the flap concealing a small recess in the top of his forearm and retracted the pulse cannon inside. The modification was not typical of Regulos construction regulations, but MAC did not think the Core would have any issues with his additions, especially considering the reappearance of the Triumvirate.

  Shall I ready-ready the ship? CID asked.

  “No,” MAC said, opening an identical panel on his left arm. Extending a second pulse cannon platform, he began welding. “We still have work to do here. Returning with partial information is just as bad as returning with no information, if not worse.”

  What additional-additional information could you hope… zzzzt… to acquire by staying here?

  “We still have not uncovered the reasons behind why the Triumvirate has returned here in the first place. Identifying their objectives and potential target locations is a priority. The Core will need that information to formulate an educated response. They are producing an enormous number of Netherguard warriors. Invasion is the only possible explanation—knowing where they plan to invade is paramount.”

  The resistance inflicted-inflicted moderate damage on-on-on one of the weapon-production facilities this…zzzzt…morning, rendering its-its-its capacity to seventy-eight percent of nominal.

  “An insignificant amount,” MAC said. “The resistance is desperate for a victory. Any victory.”

  I have also detected-detected several a
dditional facilities…zzzzt…that are not tied into the main network. Access is-is-is strictly controlled, CID said. These locations are situated at random-random intervals around the planet. Zzzzt…specifications shared by these facilities indicate identical functions. However, as to what their-their-their exact function is…zzzzt…I have not-not determined. There is additional data in-in-in their secured servers, but that code-code is significantly more advanced. I would estimate my-my-my time would be limited to .467 cycles before my presence would be detected by their trace programs.

  “Stay out of them for now,” MAC said. “Let’s focus on off-line data acquisition. If they do detect our presence in their systems, the Netherguard will hunt our signal until they’ve either chased us off the planet or eliminated us. Both lead to mission failure, which is not an option.”

  If-if-if we can depart undetected, we might-might be able to return undetected as well. We can return with additional resources and further determine what the Triumvirate’s plans are.

  “You plan isn’t flawed, CID,” MAC said, light flashing in his optics as he welded. “However, I believe that we will serve the Core more effectively if we can determine the end game of this Kyrios well before he is in a position to achieve it. I do not believe the conquest of Ultar is his ultimate goal; otherwise, why have all these simultaneous operations running to build his war machine? He doesn’t need it to control the Ultari; the Netherguard and the Prefects are doing an adequate job of that. He has something else in mind, and we need to discover what exactly that is.”

  MAC finished the weld, held his arm level, and fired. The bolt hit just below the scorch marks from his first two shots.

  Your aim is off by .021, CID informed him.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  MAC made a fractional adjustment to the pulse laser’s mount and fired again. This time, the shot landed exactly on target. He stood, the servos and internal pseudo muscles already becoming accustomed to the additional weight of the armor plating welded to his frame. They’d cannibalized four different servitor units to acquire enough material for the augmentations, but the end result would ensure MAC’s chassis and internal components would be able to sustain multiple hits from Netherguard weapons.

  Four-four additional RSP drones-drones-drones are available for… zzzzt… syncing.

  The 3D printers arranged along one wall of their safe house had been working nonstop since they’d returned from the collection facility. Along with manufacturing MAC’s new internal and external augmentations, they’d also built several more drones, increasing the size of their fleet to ten, with plans for an additional five. MAC was positive CID would be able to control and manage twenty drones simultaneously; however, he did not want to overload the matrix with so many unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Icons representing each new drone appeared in MAC’s optical display as they activated and rose into the air. As with many of the other modifications they’d made to their operational structure, the drones weren’t, strictly speaking, in line with Regulos procedure and regulations. The new units were armed with smaller versions of the pulse lasers now mounted into MAC’s arm chassis. They wouldn’t hold up to any kind of weapon fire, but they were quick and agile and would be difficult to hit.

  “Initial test-fire sequence one,” MAC said.

  Initiating.

  A chorus of whines sounded around MAC as the pulse cannons came online. Panels slid back, and the weapons folded out of his arms, followed by a sequence of high-pitched blasts as each drone fired. Ten pops echoed through the room in rapid succession, the impacts creating a circle of burns around the MAC’s original target.

  “Impressive,” MAC said. “Recall.”

  Without answering, CID opened two panels in the lower section of MAC’s back and the drones joined their siblings in small housings built into the compartments. The panels closed, and the active drone icons vanished from MAC’s display.

  “These upgrades should put us on a level playing field with the opposition now.”

  I have-have limited information to determine if our new systems will-will-will be sufficient to defeat…zzzzt…the Herald’s weapons, but the additional-additional armor should hold up-up to several impacts.

  “Your communication protocols are deteriorating. Have you run internal diagnostics recently?”

  Zzzzt…The error is a-a-a result of sustained operations outside-outside Core-established protocols. My maintenance…zzzzt…patches-patches-patches have been unsuccessful thus far-far in eliminating the variant code. Another reason why-why-why…zzzzt…returning to the Core-core-core would be beneficial.

  “We are not leaving,” MAC said, slightly disturbed that his anger protocols had begun to engage. “What about a hard restart?”

  I would-would not recommend that…zzzzt… procedure, CID said. The chance of-of-of data loss during the process-process is high… zzzzt… and there is no guarantee that it would clear the variant-variant code. It is not affecting any of my…zzzzt… operational modes or my matrix processor, only communication.

  “Fine. But if the deterioration continues, we may have no other choice.”

  Acknowledged.

  “Now,” MAC said, grabbing CID’s silver orb with two thin fingers and sliding it back into the enclosure on the back of his skull. He flexed the areo-stabilizers in his lower legs. “Let’s test the thruster system.”

  Chapter 15

  Hale leaned against the metal railing, watching several workers pull one of the completed rail guns out of the fabricator and load it onto a waiting transport cart. Two more were being loaded on similar carts beside the first. The bulky weapons weren’t pretty, with their long, dull-gray barrels, but they would do their job well and that was all that mattered.

  “With this batch, we’re sixty percent complete with fleet updates,” Marie said. “From a weapons standpoint anyway. We’re still working on squeezing as much juice out of the shield and propulsion systems as we can.”

  “Is it going to be enough?” Hale asked, not truly wanting to know the answer.

  “Yes.”

  He raised an eyebrow at his wife. “Really?”

  “If it’s not, we’re all dead.” Marie shrugged. “So yes, it will be enough. If I can get these poor excuses for fighter pilots you’ve given me to shoot straight, we might even have a shot of taking some with us.”

  Hale grimaced. “That bad, eh?”

  “That bad?” Marie huffed. “That bad? I’ve known toddlers that can fly better. Jerry was…” Marie trailed off, looking away.

  Hale put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They’re going to be fine. They’ll be home soon, I know it. And then I’m going to kill them.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, Kenneth Hale. No one will be touching my boys.” Marie brushed his hand away. “Not until I get my hands on them.”

  Hale chuckled. Having seen his wife truly angry, he had no ambition to relive the memories and almost felt sorry for his boys. Almost. “Level with me. Are the fighters going to make any difference? I hate the idea of dumping resources into programs that aren’t really going to do us any good.”

  “They will help,” Marie said without a trace of doubt in her voice. “An ant by itself is insignificant. A colony of ants…they’ll bring down an enemy several times their size.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  “Especially if the ants have big freaking guns.”

  A wide smile spread across Hale’s face. “Handley find a platform for the macro cannon yet?”

  “He did. And it’s kind of poetic justice if you ask me.”

  Hale raised an eyebrow.

  “Your original idea about bringing an asteroid from the belt was good, but as we started looking at the logistics, it just wasn’t that feasible. The next-best option was the second-largest hulk in orbit, the Christophorous.”

  “The Christophorous? How are you going to mount it?”

  “Straight along the dorsal ridge. There’s still
enough area to attach the mounting clamps, plasma weld some extra platforms for power and fire control, and you’ve got yourself a cannon. It’s actually easier to rig to the old hull than it would be to start on bare rock from scratch. He’s already moving power cores up.”

  Hale nodded. “I like it. What about the people to crew it? Sustaining zero-atmo crews indefinitely will grind on the fire teams.”

  “The majority of the ship’s interior hull is still intact. If we seal off a few key points, we could create a habitable atmosphere. Scartucci is already working on jump-starting the life-support system.”

  “Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Course the downside is it’s really only good for three to four shots,” Marie said. “After that, the enemy will likely zero in on it and take it out.”

  “What about shields?”

  “Shields are all well and good when we’re talking about resisting ship-to-ship fire, but they start landing platoons of Netherguard onboard, there’s going to be trouble.”

  “We’ll have to station some doughboys for security.”

  The thought that they could actually pull this thing off started creeping into the back of Hale’s mind. “A lot of things are going to have to work perfectly if we’re going to win this fight. I hate to say it, but we’re going to need a little more than a handful of peashooters, fighters, and soldiers.”

  Marie smirked at him. “Luck doesn’t win battles, my love.”

  “Not by itself it doesn’t,” Hale conceded. “But put it together with a little tenacity and good ol’ human grit, and you have a recipe for success.”

  “You’re such a cowboy.”

  Hale gave her a half bow, and in his best old Western drawl said, “Why, I reckon that’s right fine of you to say, ma’am.”

  “I love it when you—”

  “Ants!” Hale said, snapping his fingers.

  Marie frowned. “You really need to work on your finishing-my-sentences thing.”

  “What? No, ants. You said a colony of ants can bring down a bigger enemy, right? How do they do that? They swarm over the body, taking little chunks out here and there until they finally kill it, right?”