by Dean M. Cole
Nodding reluctantly, they backed up and placed hands over ears.
Monique looked at him. “Please avoid hitting anything inside the room.”
“You got it, Lieutenant.”
Vaughn raised the muzzle of the shotgun to the area between the lock and the jamb. Aiming downward to comply with Monique’s request, he pulled the trigger.
The weapon discharged. Its loud report in the narrow confines of the hallway set his ears to ringing.
This time, the door opened without the need of an assist from his boot. It swung out of the way, revealing an interior that had several gun-looking devices hanging from its walls and a couple resting on tripods.
Monique walked past him. As the rest of the group followed her, Vaughn reholstered his weapon and stepped into the room.
The naval lieutenant extended an arm. “These are the EMP guns I’ve been telling you about.”
Vaughn scanned the room, studying the weapons. Several of the devices looked like rifles, and one of the larger, tripod-mounted ones even looked like a cannon. However, they all had one thing in common. Each of them had a large block attached by a flexible cable.
Pointing, he looked at Monique. “Batteries?”
She glanced up from the one she was showing Rourke and Rachel and nodded.
Walking over to a particularly cool-looking one, Vaughn pulled it from the wall. The cable that led from that one disappeared into a backpack. He grabbed the bulky battery. The heavy ass thing nearly hit the floor. With a grunt, he slung it over a shoulder and then, stringing his other hand through the opposite strap, placed it on his back. Holding the weapon across his body as he had with the shotgun, he turned to face the group. “What do you think?”
Monique looked up from her conversation and shook her head. “I fear the only thing that will do is anger a Neck.”
Vaughn screwed up his face. “What do you mean?”
“That is a DroneShield. It is designed to disrupt drone controls as well as the GPS signal they receive.” She shrugged. “It will not fry any of its electronics.”
Frowning, Vaughn looked at the weapon and then back at Monique. “Then why did you bring us here?”
Everyone looked at her expectantly.
Monique smiled and pointed toward the central, tripod-mounted weapon. “For this.”
The large black EMP cannon formed the centerpiece of the room. The heavy-duty tripod that supported it sat atop a sturdy, three-foot-tall workbench. All rakish angles and mean lines, the futuristic-looking cannon sported long, cooling fins that ran the length of its inky black barrel.
Lieutenant Gheist moved to stand behind the weapon. “It will stop a truck dead in its tracks from greater than one hundred meters.”
Shrugging off the backpack, Vaughn placed it and the attached DroneShield rifle on the floor and then joined Angela.
They moved to stand behind the group.
Angela slipped her hand into Vaughn’s.
They exchanged a look that spoke volumes.
As he stared into her beautiful smile, a warm joy wrapped itself around his heart.
It was the same joy he’d felt when Angela had thrown her arms around him in the Nebraska wheat field. That singular moment had chased away the last of the doubts and insecurities that had haunted him during their first weeks together.
For a moment, his thoughts ventured back to his lost dream of plying the world’s oceans with her.
Vaughn pushed out the notion. One thing their many journeys had taught him was to live in the here and now, to cherish the moments … like this one. He squeezed her hand and then turned his attention back to Lieutenant Gheist.
Everyone was studying the EMP cannon in silence.
Unlike the other weapons, this one did not have an attached battery pack. The thick cable that ran from the gun ended in a hefty, four-prong plug that sat in a holster on the side of the tripod.
Vaughn squeezed Angela’s hand again and then released it. He worked his way through the group and stepped up to the weapon. He tried to pull it off of the tripod, but the thing wouldn’t budge.
After looking up self-consciously, he adjusted his grip and tried again.
This time Vaughn managed to lift it an inch or two. The veins in his arms pulsed. The healthy diet of the last couple of days had gone a long way toward restoring most of his strength, but he still couldn’t raise the gun all the way off of its mount.
The cannon dropped back onto the heavy-duty tripod with a loud thud.
Vaughn looked at Monique. “This thing weighs a ton. How on earth are we ever going to carry it?”
Major Lee pointed at the plug on the end of the cable. “And where is the battery pack?”
“It does not have one. This weapon gets its power from the vehicle to which it is mounted.”
Vaughn looked at her and shook his head. “We can’t take a vehicle where we’re going, not all the way, anyway. Remember that part about tunnels and narrow alleyways?”
An odd smile suddenly blossomed on the woman’s face. She stepped over to a nearby desk and picked up a thin, black device. It looked like a small remote. She spoke into it. “Bob, please join me in room Eighteen Bravo.”
Vaughn exchanged confused glances with the other members of the group.
Had the woman lost it?
Nobody was around to answer radio calls. He opened his mouth to say as much, but then it clicked shut as the sound of footsteps echoed down the outside hallway.
Vaughn’s blood ran cold as he heard the heavy report of all-too-familiar footfalls. The sound of them engendered a vision of Necks spilling into the corridor in CERN.
The room’s partially closed door suddenly swung open.
Everyone but Monique took an involuntary backward step.
Then Vaughn glimpsed the narrow waist and bulbous hips of a Neck.
Angela placed hands over her mouth. A stifled scream escaped her.
The robot stepped through the opening.
Vaughn pulled the shotgun from its scabbard.
Monique yelled something.
Jamming a finger into the trigger guard, Vaughn raised the weapon and readied to send the bot to its maker, but then he yanked his finger back.
It wasn’t a Neck, wasn’t even the right color or shape.
The robot’s knees bent the correct way, not like the backward-bending ones on the Necks. Its upper body was completely different, more humanoid, and it only had two arms. Also, unlike a Neck, this robot did have an actual neck. The gray head that sat atop it turned and stared down the muzzle of Vaughn’s shotgun.
Finally, Monique’s words pierced his frantic thoughts. “Don’t shoot! It’s one of ours.”
Staring back at the machine, Vaughn lowered his weapon. Careful not to point the shotgun’s muzzle at anybody, he turned and glared at Monique. “Jesus Christ, Lieutenant! Next time warn us before you do something like that.”
Monique flinched at the sharpness of his words. She pressed her lips into a thin line and then nodded. “Sorry. I should have considered your potential reaction.”
“Ya think?!” Vaughn blinked several times. His adrenaline level lowered, and his anger ebbed. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry I yelled. It’s not your fault. You-You couldn’t have known.” He pointed at the now motionless robot. “It was the legs and its hips.” He glanced at Angela and then back at the naval lieutenant. “Beyond the fact that they didn’t have necks, we didn’t tell you what they looked like. But from the waist down, they looked a lot like that but with backward-bending knees.
Tilting her head, Angela stared at the robot’s upper torso.
Vaughn followed her gaze. As he studied the robot’s chest plate, he saw a rectangular tag occupying the space where a name tag would sit on a military uniform. It was a small plaque with BOb engraved into its surface with an uppercase B and O followed by a lowercase b.
Angela looked back at Monique. She pointed at the name tag. “BOb? Is that an acronym?”
Vaughn blinked in surprise as the thing spoke with an inflected, reedy voice that sounded almost human.
“Yes. I am a T-Eight-Fifty, Model One-Oh-One Battle Operations bot.” The machine paused and then canted his head. “Or BOb, for short.”
Vaughn hoisted an eyebrow. A T-850 Model 101? He chuckled. “They should’ve called you Arnold.”
BOb nodded. “Only an enemy combatant would see me as a Terminator.”
It looked as if the thing had smiled, although, considering the rigid construction of its face, Vaughn thought it unlikely.
“Bloody Yanks!” Bingham shook his head. “I just hope this thing doesn’t decide one of us is the enemy someday.”
The Russian cosmonaut smiled and waved at the robot. “No enemy here, BOb. I’m Teddy, your friendly Russky ginger.”
“Hello, Teddy.”
Vaughn’s smile faltered as he spotted a symbol that he recognized. He took a backward step and then glanced at Monique. “Does that mean what I think it does?”
“Captain Singleton, my doctorate affords me many abilities. However, mind-reading is not amongst them.”
Vaughn frowned and pointed at the symbol. “Is that an RTG?”
“No.”
He chuckled self-consciously. “Whew.”
The woman gestured at the labeled part. “That is an SRG.”
The smile fell from Vaughn’s face when he saw Angela do a double-take and then take a backward step.
Major Lee tilted her head. “SRG?”
“BOb is powered by a Stirling radioisotope generator.”
The group members stared at her with blank looks.
“It’s nuclear-powered.”
Everyone but Monique backed away from the robot.
Rolling her eyes, the lieutenant held up her hands. “It is perfectly safe. The SRG is combat-rated. Its radioactive core is encased in a hardened shell. Even a direct mortar strike would not split the case.”
Vaughn looked from the robot to Monique. “What is the difference between an RTG and an SRG?”
“Hear that faint, purring sound?”
Vaughn had. He’d thought it must be coming from a hydraulic pump. He nodded.
“That is a Stirling motor. The heat of the nuclear core is driving it. It is about four times more efficient than the thermoelectric couplings of an RTG.”
As he nodded, Vaughn saw Angela staring at him. “What?”
Her nostrils flared, and she pursed her lips. “Do you have to know how everything works?”
He shrugged. “I’m a pilot. It’s what I do.” Looking left and right, he received confirming nods from Mark, Rachel, and Chance.
Angela looked at them and then shook her head. “God help me, I’m surrounded.”
Commander Bingham stepped forward and addressed Monique. “How is this thing going to help us, Leftenant? I doubt it can do anything worthwhile for our mission.”
The robot looked at Bingham and said, “Don’t you hate it when someone answers their own questions? I do.”
Chance did a double-take and scowled at the bot.
Ignoring the exchange, Monique pointed at the large, tripod-mounted EMP cannon. “BOb, please pick up the BFG.”
Vaughn guffawed. “BFG?!”
The lieutenant looked perplexed by his outburst. “Yes, it is the weapon’s technical designation. I am not sure for what it stands.”
He cast a second glance at the naval lieutenant. “Really?”
The robot looked from Vaughn to the lieutenant. “The acronym stands for Big Fu—”
Angela’s hands shot out. “That’s okay, BOb.”
Monique’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed an O. Then she covered it with a hand. “Oh my word.”
After a moment, she recovered from her embarrassment and pointed at the EMP cannon. “BOb, please pick up the … the weapon.”
The robot nodded. “Yes, Lieutenant Gheist.” It stepped between them and walked toward the tripod. Each step the thing took sent a tremor through the floor.
BOb was taller than an average-sized man. Of all the members of the group, only Mark Hennessy stood higher than did the robot.
It stopped in front of the tripod and grabbed the EMP cannon as if it weighed less than ten pounds. Lifting it free, BOb turned and looked at Monique. “Would you like me to connect the power, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, BOb.”
Bingham rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Now we’re saying please and thank you to a robot?”
Major Lee grinned at the wing commander. “Care to find out what it’s like to be on its enemy list?”
Unfazed, Monique nodded toward Rachel and then addressed the group. “This is no ordinary robot. Just a couple of years ago, we would have considered its brain to be a supercomputer.”
As the Lieutenant spoke, BOb opened a port on the side of his narrow waist and plugged in the power cable.
Rourke looked nervously from the gun to Lieutenant Gheist. “Are you sure that is safe? What if he shoots someone?”
“First of all, he is of no threat to any of us. We have not been designated as an enemy combatant. However, even if he accidentally shot one of us—a highly unlikely event—you would feel nothing and would suffer no lingering effects.”
She turned from Rourke and addressed the entire group. “Anyway, as I was saying, BOb has a level of artificial intelligence that is like nothing you may have previously encountered. While he does not have emotions, we have noticed that he responds more readily and eagerly when we use a modicum of tact and politeness.”
Bingham rolled his eyes again. “Wonderful.”
The bot looked up. “Uh, I am still in the room, folks. I said I was a robot, not deaf.”
Everyone exchanged shocked glances. Then they burst into laughter.
BOb looked from the wing commander to Lieutenant Gheist. “It has been some time since I was last summoned. Where is everyone else?”
The laughs faded, and an uncomfortable silence fell across the lab. After a moment, Monique coughed and looked up from the floor. “There is no one else, BOb. Everyone is gone. We are the only remaining humans.”
The robot nodded. “Okay.” Then it fell silent, apparently having no further questions on the matter.
It occurred to Vaughn that being an emotionless robot may not be so bad after all.
When the uncomfortable silence became unbearable, Vaughn coughed and then gestured to the robot. “So, BOb, if that’s not a hydraulic pump I hear, what’s driving your actuators?”
“I don’t have actuators, as you say. They’re synthetic muscles, made of a flexible polymer that contracts when an electrical current runs through it.”
Hearing the robot use contractions, Vaughn had to stifle a grin. Apparently, BOb was more comfortable with the use of words like don’t and they’re than was Lieutenant Gheist.
Angela looked from the robot to Monique. “Is there anything else we can get? Do you have other surprises for us?”
The naval lieutenant shook her head. “Nothing better than the munitions we already procured from the armory.”
They had amassed an impressive collection of weapons, including grenades and machine-guns of varying sizes and capabilities. They’d also loaded up on shoulder- and tripod-fired rockets and missiles.
Vaughn hoped they wouldn’t need any of it.
He looked pointedly at Major Lee and Lieutenant Gheist and then gestured toward the exit. “It’s time you show us the ride to Europe that you promised.”
Rachel and Monique shared a knowing look and then nodded. The two of them had obviously discussed the matter, but whatever idea they’d cooked up, they hadn’t yet shared the details with the rest of the group.
Gesturing toward the door, Rachel indicated for Monique to lead the way. “I’ll take over once we get there.”
Vaughn held up a hand and looked at the robot. “BOb, how about you take point? … Please.” He left out the par
t about not being comfortable with having an armed combat bot walking behind them, regardless of the type of weapon.
The robot nodded and stepped eagerly toward the door. “I’m on it, Captain. Where would you like to go?”
Vaughn turned raised eyebrows to the conspirators. “Care to enlighten us?”
Monique looked past him and addressed BOb directly. “Take us to Building Eight-Two-Eight.”
The robot nodded his mouthless head and then walked out of the room, each of its footfalls again sending a silent tremor through the floor.
Vaughn looked at Angela and shrugged. Then they and the rest of the group followed BOb.
A short time later, they stopped in front of the expansive doors of a large hangar.
Lieutenant Gheist held up a finger. “Wait here. I will be right back.” Then she jogged toward one end of the building and disappeared around its corner.
Looking at the size of the hangar, Vaughn knew it likely contained a large cargo jet. He turned toward Monique. “What’s in there, a C-17?” Not waiting for her reply, he shook his head. “I told you an airplane won’t work. We can’t count on having a place to land. You’ve seen the airports here.” He pointed in the direction of the Air Force Base’s runways. “Even this tarmac is littered with wreckage.”
Major Lee didn’t answer. She simply gave him an indiscernible smile.
A loud beeping noise rang out from the hangar. It sounded like the bleating alarm of a large truck’s back-up warning horn. Then the massive hangar doors began to part.
Moving to stand side-by-side in a rough semicircle, the eight of them stared into the dark interior as the doors continued to roll open.
Vaughn glanced at BOb. He was pleased to see the combat bot had taken up a defensive stance. It had the BFG trained in a direction that covered the most obvious avenue of attack. Not that Vaughn anticipated one, but it was good to see the bot taking its duties seriously.
Turning to look in the building, Vaughn saw something large sitting in the center of the expansive hangar.
Standing under a bright sky, he blinked several times, trying to resolve the apparent aircraft in the building’s comparatively dark interior. Then his eyes widened with recognition. “An Osprey?”
