Keen saw Punter's trigger finger tighten in sympathy with what he was seeing on screen. Then the video feed went to three seconds of static and died. Replaced with a new title - Recovery of Video File from Drone Carcass.
"Carcass," Punter said, his trigger finger relaxing, "I don't like the sound of that."
"Me neither," Keen said.
Again they were watching through the nose sensors of a drone as it strode through the woods in full autonomous operation mode. It pushed through thick patches of the spiraled, thorny and convoluted branches with its nose. When patches were too thick, it ripped at them with its utility arms, extending from hatches below the fish-like body for the purpose. It ripped at a bunch of thick branches and broke through to an open space beyond. The trees in the clearing, four or five of them, were denuded of branches and all leaning in one direction, towards what was left of a drone. It was standing at the back of the clearing and its fish shape was still recognizable, but it was horribly damaged.
Their drone, the one whose eyes they were watching through, hesitated at the edge of the clearing, scanning the space and as far into the trees as its sensors would go. It then, as if summoning its courage, stepped into the blasted space. It went straight over to the remains of its fellow drone, but, as it passed one of the trees, a picture in picture zoomed in on the damage done to the trunk. The wood looked churned up. A weird mixture of melted and mixed. The damage was strange, like heat damage, but worse and without any scorching.
"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Keen asked Punter.
"No boss," he said, "But that's weapon damage for sure. Look, it's directional and it intensifies round our busted up drone."
The damaged drone was now looming in the view as their host drone neared it. At such close range the damage was frightening. The thick armor had split in several places and bulged outwards, the drone's insides spilling out, twisted deformed and melted. Where the armor hadn't split, where it had maintained its integrity, it was twisted and distorted like the fabric of the tree that they had seen a moment earlier. The two main legs were untouched, strangely, and the drone looked like a twisted mess installed on two mechanical reverse jointed legs. The host drone tried to initiate a handshake to swap data via a laser connection, but the damaged drone was completely inert and unresponsive.
The host drone opened a hatch in its belly and extended a utility arm. The hand on the end folded back to reveal a data jack. The host drone knocked some of the twisted armor aside to find a place to insert the jack. It found a socket, plugged in and the damaged drone's file system appeared in a window. It was a mess, just as twisted as the physical body.
"Data damage too," Keen murmured as they watched.
The host drone downloaded what it could then headed off through the trees.
The video then cut to another caption - The Recovery Drone Finds High Ground and Passes Data to a Scramjet.
The view was now from a circling scramjet. It was centered on a drone on an exposed rocky outcrop. There was a high-speed red flickering as lasers mounted around the drone's eyes beamed up the information retrieved from the blasted drone carcass and its own experiences too.
As the scramjet circled, it noticed movement in the forest around the drone. It beamed down a warning, but the computer operating the drone on the exposed hilltop decided to keep transmitting. It could use its wing blasters and keep its nose trained on the scramjet to ensure the data connection. It couldn't use its main mass driver though because this was nose mounted. The scramjet also started loosing off missiles into the forest at targets, based on observed movement of the canopy, as the drone on the hilltop was firing into the woods with its blasters as best it could.
Trees were torn apart, dirt, rock and foliage was thrown into the air. The view on the ground became chaos, and still the drone kept broadcasting, sending up its precious cargo of data. The drone was then buffeted by impacts, its armor sloughing off and its internal structure rupturing to the surface. The data stream from the ground broke off and the scramjet immediately banked away and the video stopped. It was replaced by another caption across the screen - Base Commander’s Personal Log
This was an audio file only, but Keen could well imagine the concerned look on the base commander's face. She was much closer to whatever this threat was, and it was pretty obvious she wouldn't be getting any reinforcements or evacuation until Skydancer had more information about what they were dealing with. She'd been hung out to dry, thrown down on the surface of the planet as bait, just like Keen, but there wasn't a hint of resentment in her voice, Keen had to give her that.
"The lack of communications is the worst thing," came the base commander's voice from the audio file, "I don't know I've even lost a unit till it fails to come back from patrol. It is just a fluke that I have any idea what I'm dealing with, just a couple of degraded video files of movement in the trees.”
She paused, collecting her thoughts.
“There are a few things I can already say however. One thing is that these creatures are not human and I'm sure we're dealing with multiple hostiles. They appear to be using some kind of organic armor. They are bipedal, judging by the first contact alien, and they have potent weaponry. I'm confused about why they didn't engage the scramjet. I would love to know if that is related to some kind of range limitation of their weaponry. I guess we'll just have to wait for them to show up at the base."
The audio stopped and a caption appeared on the screen - End of Summary.
Keen turned to Punter, her face grim. He met her gaze, his expression hard to read, waiting for her to speak.
"Did that look to you like a fair fight between the drones and the hostiles?" Keen asked.
"No it most certainly did not, boss," he replied, his voice vehement, "They took the first drone by surprise. How was it supposed to know this was a hostile and not some dumb forest creature? And the second one was surrounded, outnumbered."
"We both saw the state of the first drone, the busted up armor. How long did it last before it lost functionality under the hostile's fire?"
"Not long," Punter admitted, "But long enough to return fire. It got off a few good rounds with the big gun, with a pretty good chance of having hit it. It's a pity it was taken out before it could confirm the kill."
"I didn't see any dead aliens strewn about that clearing," Keen said, pensively.
"No," Punter nodded, "but maybe, with its alien physique, it can have its ass shot off and still mange to crawl away somewhere to die."
Keen started laughing, and Punter smiled.
"Okay, Punter," she said, "Go talk to the drones. I don't want them wandering round on their own any more. I want them patrolling in groups of..."
She paused, half thinking, half inviting suggestions. Punter's guess was as good as hers right now about how many drones should be in each group in order to survive contact with the hostiles.
"Five?" Punter suggested.
"Five it is," Keen said, "And we'll have our next installment from Base North in about an hour. Off you go."
Punter went to organizing the defense of the base. He sent scramjets flying low over the forest, out looking for any sign of the hostiles, out to twenty or thirty miles away. He soon had all the drones out on permanent patrol as well. They patrolled in groups of five around a rigidly predetermined circuit. Some groups starting and stopping, some patrolling continuously, some clockwise, some anticlockwise.
The circuit was one mile out and it took the drones an hour to go round one time. The drones were stamping through this terrain with such regularity that it was turning into a wide muddy track, almost completely denuded of vegetation. Punter also had the engineering drones clear a line of sight track out to the patrol circuit, with drones spread along it as a relay, so he could be alerted by laser communications the moment anything happened.
Chapter 11
––––––––
Shivia and Altia were both in the room where the Buzzer scientist had been d
oing his experiments. Altia was trying to examine the way the Buzzer equipment was interacting with the surface of the wall, and with systems below. But Shivia was pacing the room behind her, distracting her.
"Why here," Shivia said, "That's the big question. Why travel half way across the quadrant to an ice moon, if you already have command of the Drifter System. What advantage does a frigid lump of rock give, compared to an artificial solar system that is capable of intergalactic travel?"
"I think..." Altia said, "I think it's something to do with the ocean beneath the surface. There is a sea below the crust, a huge frozen sea. And that, I think, is the tomb. At least, according to my latest readings of translated texts."
"So," Shivia said, "Instead of squabbling with these damnable tin cans over control of that hilltop fort, we should be looking a little deeper. We should be looking to the core... Of course."
Shivia turned and, without a word, left Altia alone at the wall. Altia watched her go, a pensive expression on her face, and then went back to her experiments, and back to piecing together the least damaged of the Buzzer equipment.
"Definitely no systems I can see that would be able to cut a pattern into stone. The pattern was prompted to form spontaneously," she muttered to herself as she worked.
"Would you like me to catalog that remark?" the site computer asked.
"Yes please," Altia said, "And make a note that this opens up more problems than it solves. What kind of machine is this that we are inhabiting?”
Then she noticed a message winking in a corner of her display. Her slug had arrived and was ready for collection.
***
Knave was still in the landing bay, at the center of the room, roughly where the transport had dropped him, with his bag on the floor, his helmet on top, waiting. After another twenty minutes he went back over to the robot.
"Have you got anything to sit on?"
"Sure," the robot said.
It went over to its pile of stuff and selected a couple of robust looking plastic cases. It brought them back over to Knave and set them down. It patted the top of one case and sat on the other itself.
"I thought you might have been rerouted by now," the robot said.
"I was hoping something might have happened by now too" Knave nodded.
"Hey," the robot said, "There's a food dispenser round the back here. Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Sure. Where is it?"
"No, you're the guest here in Temporary Logistics Forwarding Depot Gk690. I'll get you something."
The robot went to its pile of stuff, pulled out a medium size case and unpacked a food dispenser. It added some consumable cubes in the top and found two containers to insert in the bottom. It punched some buttons and then brought him the results. There was a beaker of yellow liquid and a plate with a bar of red stuff on it.
"Thanks," Knave said, and took a drink.
"You're welcome," the robot nodded, "Nice armor by the way."
Knave looked down at the slim suit he was wearing, then back up at the robot.
"What do you know about armor?"
"Oh," the robot said, "I'm not just some ordinary sub-AI box-stacker like this other guy."
It indicated the other robot in the hanger with a dismissive gesture. Knave raised an eyebrow.
"Oh no?"
"No," the robot continued, "I'm full AI. I know a lot about a lot of subjects, self-educated you see."
"My mother was self educated," Knave said, "The mining cartel didn't provide schooling, but she didn't let that stop her."
"Good for her," the robot said, "I started out as a hobby project, something to fiddle with for one of the logistics officers. She was wasted here, had a magnificent mind, but, you know how it is, she could only get a job as a slug in the benighted infantry. Ended up in logistics."
"Benighted?" Knave smiled.
"I'm full AI," the robot deadpanned, "I can use big words if I like."
Knave took a bite of the red thing.
"Delicious," he said, suddenly realizing how hungry he had been, “thanks.”
"Calm down," the robot said, "It's not like I cooked it or anything."
"Right."
Knave munched on the food and the robot watched him.
"So, what were you saying about the armor."
"Ah," the robot said, "That's interesting. It's a very cutting edge design. There are only a few examples in the battle group's inventory system."
"Battle group?"
"Yeah we just got promoted to battle group when those last few squadrons joined us. And your armor's serial number indicates it's from a recent generation."
"Serial number," Knave said, confused.
He looked down at the armor, but it looked pretty featureless to him.
"Yeah, serial number," the robot nodded, "You have the armor set to broadcast its manufacturer details in the handshake. You should probably change that. It's not secure and it makes you look like a noob."
"I was issued this thing less than an hour ago," Knave said, "I have no idea how I would change a setting like that."
"I can take a look," the robot offered, "If you like."
Knave shrugged, and the robot held out its hand.
"Give me the helmet."
Knave was hesitant a second. He'd only just been issued the suit and was pretty sure the navy would frown on him showing it to random droids who probably weren't even military issue.
"Come on," the robot said, "Don't be bashful. Hand it over."
Knave placed the rim of the helmet in the robot's hand. The robot took it gently and peered inside. Then it reached inside with its free hand. Knave noticed that the robot's index finger had an interface jack on it. After a few seconds, the helmet started projecting a hologram. The hologram swam in and out of focus.
"It's a bit tricky," the robot said, "Still has the factory settings, and there's so much spyware it's slowing the processor down. This thing has a good, modern processor too, so that's a shit load of spyware."
"Military police like to know what we're up to. And if you saw what we got up to, you'd understand."
The robot let out a metallic little chuckle and the hologram projection coalesced into something recognizable. It was a shimmering flat blue sheet with the words, Customer Settings, at the top.
"Customer?"
"The navy is the customer," the robot said, "You're usually not supposed to see this menu, but you call it up like this."
The robot showed him how to manipulate the menu. The menu screens and option selections moved so quickly that Knave had difficulty following them, but he was confident he could replicate the droid's actions.
"Removing the spyware now," the droid said.
Knave saw the screen flash and go to black, which was worrying, then writing scrolled vertically up it and then the original screen came back, seemingly unaltered. Then the robot got him to move his arms, to better calibrate the force feedback settings. The slim suit seemed to move more naturally after the robot had made the adjustments. The robot stopped playing with the settings and handed the helmet back to him.
"Thanks," Knave said, "Whats your name?"
"Jay," the robot said, “That was the name of the original robot kit my creator started with. I'm far removed from a standard Jay kit robot now of course. You can call me Jay.”
"I'm Knave. Is Jay a gendered name? Do you identify with male or female?"
"Male, I guess. I've been told my voice is more masculine than feminine."
"Great food dispenser programming," Knave said, holding up what was left of his bar of red stuff, "This really is good."
"It'll put hairs on your chest."
It was quite some time later that one of the interior doors to the bay opened. Knave and Jay were deep in conversation about local weather conditions and the likely effects they would have on the battle group's equipment. They both turned their heads at the sound of the opening door, to see a tall woman enter. She had black skin and nappy hair
and her features had a neat trick of being delicate and powerful at the same time. She was wearing the first non-military clothes Knave had seen on-planet.
"So this is where you've been hiding," she said, "We were expecting you down in the dig coordination center."
"Were you?" Knave said, unable at that moment to come up with anything better.
"Yes. We were," the woman said, "You are Knave?"
"That's me," Knave confirmed, "And who might you be?"
"I'm Altia," she said, "I'm the one who requested you be transferred to our staff."
"Oh," Knave said.
This was all very different to any duty he had been assigned before, but one thing was the same as usual, he was obviously considered too insignificant to be told what was going on, what he was expected to do, or where he was supposed to go. It looked like this woman might be his superior though, even if it was still very unclear what his role was.
"Is this robot part of your team?" she asked.
Knave looked at Jay and shrugged. The robot looked at its pile of boxes for a moment, then back to Knave and Altia. He nodded his metal head.
"Yes," Knave said, "He's called Jay and he's part of my team."
"Bring him along then," Altia said, and headed for the same door she came in through.
Knave slung his bag of belongings over his back, gathered up his helmet and followed, with Jay just behind him.
Altia was walking quickly, and didn't bother to try and make small talk. She led the way down through two levels of the building and went into a large room with a conference table, surrounded by comfortable chairs, and a lot of readouts around the walls. The conference table had a large hologram pit in the center, which was switched off at that moment. Knave and Jay followed her into the room.
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