The Mothership

by Renneberg, Stephen

  * * * *

  Vamp held onto a twisted bulkhead and leant out into a hull breach that stretched for more than a kilometer and cut vertically through over a hundred decks. High above, the sky was a mere pinpoint of light while the ten decks below were a well of darkness. The sound of water swirling against ragged metal drifted up to them, but this time there were no shrieks from starving myrnods. Jagged metal protruded from every level, yet not a single maintenance drone was visible. The only sign of life was a tiny finch several levels above. It fluttered across the shaft and landed on a jagged strip of metal, where it commenced preening its feathers.

  She pulled herself back in to where Timer and Dr McInness waited. “Whatever hit this thing cut through it like butter.”

  They’d worked their way up from the shattered levels below. The vast cargo decks with passageways as wide as six lane highways had been left behind. Now they moved through smaller more specialized compartments, sometimes triggering proximity sensors that caused archways to appear in walls revealing more nano production facilities, dormitory style sleeping quarters, medical facilities, locker rooms full of diminutive space suits, and a vast array of laboratories and equipment rooms whose purposes they could only guess at. Occasionally, they spotted repair drones futilely cutting damaged bulkheads, but they encountered no more crewmen or starving myrnods.

  They headed towards a partially closed blast door framed by soft yellow-orange light. A tangle of wrecked machinery lay on the deck in front of the door and a thick metal arm reached from the wreckage to the blast door. At the end of the arm, powerful metal fingers had clamped so tightly, they’d left impressions in the door’s surface. Pinned beneath the machinery was a squat, four-legged robot with a torso heavily dented from being struck multiple times during decompression.

  “The power must have failed as the door was closing,” Dr McInness said as he stepped forward, eager to take a closer look at the machine.

  Timer held up his arm, barring the scientist’s way. “You don’t want to mess with that, Doc.”

  “It’s clearly deactivated.”

  Vamp glanced at the battered robot and shrugged. Timer lowered his arm, allowing Dr McInness to approach for a closer look. The robot’s lower half was seared black and two of its legs were partially melted from the intense heat source that had cut through the deck a short distance away.

  “It’s some kind of cargo handler, judging by the size of those arms,” Dr McInness said. “I guess it was trying not to be sucked out.”

  “I’d be hanging on too,” Timer said.

  “Exactly!” Dr McInness exclaimed as he studied the robot. “Even their lowliest cargo machines have enough intelligence, enough awareness, to try to save themselves. That’s not programming, it’s self preservation.”

  Suddenly, the cargo handler’s left arm rotated around its spherical elbow joint and clamped onto Dr McInness’ ankle. The scientist groaned and fell to the deck as his bones snapped like twigs.

  Timer jumped back startled, while Vamp stepped past Dr McInness, switched her M16 to full auto and aimed at the spherical elbow joint.

  “No! No!” the scientist wheezed in agony. “Ricochets!”

  She hesitated, then turned to Timer. “Hit the elbow with your special.” She glanced down at Dr McInness. “Ok?”

  “Just be careful not to blow my leg off!”

  Timer angled his special as far away from the scientist as he could, then touched the firing surface, blasting a pinhole in the elbow joint. The cargo handler’s arm shuddered and released its grip. Vamp dragged the scientist clear as the four-legged cargo handler pushed itself to a sitting position with its functional right arm, then climbed onto its two good legs, using its partially melted legs as crutches.

  Vamp raked its torso with her M16, but the bullets bounced off the heavy duty machine until her gun clicked empty. “Reloading!”

  Timer grabbed Dr McInness by the arm and dragged him through an archway onto a balcony that bordered a circular cargo shaft almost a hundred meters across. The shaft led up through every deck in the ship and was lined with pairs of silver magnetic strips that supported large cargo platforms. One platform was parked alongside the balcony’s loading bay, covered by a translucent dome accessible via a wide arched entrance.

  Timer hauled the scientist up onto his shoulder and headed for the elevator platform, yelling, “This way.”

  Vamp slammed a new clip into her rifle, backing after Timer and Dr McInness, but saving her ammo now she knew the cargo handler’s hull was too thick to penetrate with bullets.

  The cargo handler started limping toward her. Its left forearm hung uselessly from its shattered elbow, but its right arm reached toward them, its metal claws snapping. Vamp switched to single fire mode, and aimed at the glassy black sensor dome, hoping it was a soft spot. Several times she scored glancing hits, cracking it, but barely slowing the cargo handler’s lurching gait.

  Timer carried Dr McInness onto the cargo elevator, lowered him to the floor, then realized the transparent walls and domed ceiling were featureless. “Where are the controls?”

  “Must be remotely controlled,” Dr McInness said through gritted teeth as he propped himself against the side of the elevator.

  Vamp backed onto the platform, continuing to fire single aimed shots at the robot’s sensor dome. “Go!”

  “No controls!” Timer said, motioning to the blank walls.

  Vamp slid a grenade into the launcher mounted beneath her M16. “Fire in the hole!”

  She fired then dived behind the dome as the grenade exploded against the cargo handler’s chest. The blast sent the rugged machine sliding backwards across the deck and peppered the transparent dome with shrapnel, creating dozens of white impact points. The robot lay on its back a moment, then pushed itself up onto its legs and started lurching toward them again.

  “Is that thing a fork lift or a tank?” She muttered, then dropped her M16 and drew her tiny silver special. The ‘Tom Thumb’ was the smallest and least powerful of all the recovered weapons, but it packed more focused firepower than her M16. She pointed it at the cargo handler, touched the biosensitive firing surface, triggering a stream of super heated plasma that cut a tiny vertical line down the cargo handler’s chest. The machine shuddered, then exploded, scattering arms and legs in all directions.

  “So much for self-preservation,” Vamp said as she holstered her special.

  An alarm warbled several times, then a high pitched voice announced an alert in an incomprehensible language. The elevator’s door materialized, locking them inside, then the under powered platform began sliding slowly upwards.

  Vamp sighed. “I guess we got their attention.”

  * * * *

  The sound of metal grinding on metal filled the storage compartment as the transport was dragged back through the tear in the bulkhead. It shuddered and came to a stop, then three seekers sped through the opening like silver streaks. One broke left, one right, while the third came straight in. Five meters from the torn bulkhead, they simultaneously came to a dead stop. Their sensor disks scanned the empty aisles between the storage containers, noting several containers had been opened, but the occupants of the transport were nowhere to be seen. Together, the seekers moved forward, each down a different aisle. They knew the hatch at the far end of the protein storage facility had been remotely locked as soon as the transport had landed, and its internal sensors informed them it hadn’t been forced open.

  Bill hid in a side aisle in the middle of the chamber, listening to the click of metal footsteps as the seekers marched toward him. Wal and Cracker were together two rows across, while Slab was out of sight, further back in the chamber. Bill gave Cracker a questioning look: what should we do?

  Cracker shrugged, while beside him, Wal slid his rifle’s safety off, causing the tiniest click.

  The three seekers stopped, each registering the sound and instantly exchanging data to triangulate Wal’s position. He’d barely removed his thu
mb from the safety when two of the machines sped forward together, their rapid footsteps chattering like a burst of machine gun fire on the metal deck. Seekers appeared either side of Wal and Cracker, before either of them could raise their weapons. Long silver arms flashed out, snatching the guns from their hands and shooting precisely calculated electric charges into their spinal cords. It was not enough to kill, only to cause total paralysis throughout their nervous systems. Wal and Cracker hit the floor together, blinking as their muscles twitched from nerve shock, then watched helplessly as metal legs passed in front of their eyes.

  Two rows away, Bill raised his rifle, but the nearest seeker darted towards him and wrenched the gun from his hands with blinding speed. Bill stared at the machine now holding his rifle with amazement, then another arm shot past his head, touching his neck and pumping enough electricity into his nervous system to send him convulsing to the floor.

  Slab heard the muffled sounds of his mates being overpowered, then metallic footsteps approaching. The footsteps told him there were three machines, although not how close they were. He pulled himself quietly up onto a stack of storage containers with barely a meter’s headroom to the ceiling, then crawled to the far side, bringing his rifle forward ready to shoot. The safety was off before the seekers had entered the chamber, but the tip of his rifle barrel protruded a few millimeters beyond the edge of the containers, passing into view of one of the seekers. Its visual sensors zoomed in on the black metal shape, instantly matching it to the design of the crude kinetic weapons they’d already captured from the other bipeds. It informed its two companions of the last adversary’s location, then leapt onto the nearest stack and spotted Slab lying on his belly.

  The seeker scrambled on hands and legs across the tops of the ration containers, moving at almost the same dazzling speed it had when upright. Slab caught the blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around to see the machine racing toward him, bringing his gun around fast and squeezing off a shot. The bullet struck the seeker on the flat top of its sensor disk, punching a hole through it and splintering its vision, but not slowing it down. The seeker veered sideways as Slab fired again, dodging his second shot and leaping from one stack to the next, circling in toward him. He squeezed off one shot after another, missing each time as the seeker scrambled sideways faster than he could turn.

  A silver blur swept in towards him and wrapped a shiny hand around the rifle barrel. The seeker tried to tear the gun from his hands, but Slab held on tight, his thick muscles bulging as he refused to let go of his weapon. The seeker dragged him sideways by his rifle as he fired a shot harmlessly into the ceiling, but it couldn’t tear the weapon from his stubborn hands. It lashed out toward his spine with one of its free hands, trying to paralyze him, just as Slab kicked its hip section. The seeker rolled onto its chest at his feet, refusing to let go of the barrel. He stamped a heavy boot on its shoulder, driving it away, then he fired at the sensor disk beside his boot. The seeker shuddered and released its grip on the rifle, then filled with rage, he kicked out wildly, sending it sliding across the top of the containers, giving him room to aim.

  A metal arm streaked up from the aisle behind him and shot a bolt of electricity into his spine. He shuddered, fighting off paralysis, then rolled and fired a glancing shot at the second seeker. Aware of the danger, the seeker clamped two hands on the barrel. Slab threw his weight to the side, trying to tear the rifle free, then his eyes bulged in surprise as the seeker’s two hands bent the barrel to ninety degrees.

  The second seeker leapt forward and hit him with a larger jolt, adjusted for his bigger size. Slab groaned, released the rifle and slumped helplessly onto his face. Without a moment’s delay, the seeker scooped him up like a rag doll and carried him rapidly down into the aisle, past storage containers, towards the opening in the bulkhead. He struggled to focus, glimpsing the other seekers carrying his mates, who were obviously as helpless as he was.

  The three seekers carried them back through the opening in the bulk head, past the wrecked transport and the still burning fighters to the hull breach. Without pausing, the machines launched themselves up through the hole in the hull. Slab’s head spun as the world wheeled crazily around him. For a moment, he hung head down, facing the well of destruction that stretched down through the ship several kilometers to darkness, then they were outside on the hull, bounding toward the ship’s central spine. Slab’s face flopped close to the gray metal hull with each stride, but never hit, although the wild rocking motion made him nauseous, even with the air blasting on his face.

  Near the spine of the ship, the three seekers leapt into an opening in the hull, diving down into a large circular shaft. It was one of the many cargo transport shafts that crisscrossed the ship, forming a complex logistical network capable of moving vast quantities of supplies and equipment to wherever they were needed at lightning fast speeds.

  It was the same cargo shaft that Vamp, Dr McInness and Timer were trapped in, inside a cargo platform, more than a thousand meters below.

  The seekers caught the narrow ladders lining the shaft’s inner wall with their feet, then effortlessly launched themselves into the air with the agility of monkeys swinging through trees. They bounded from ladder to ladder as shaft walls and cargo platforms flashed by at all angles, while the opening to the sky shrank rapidly away.

  Slab was about to be separated from his breakfast when the seekers landed on a cargo balcony. They raced through an archway into a large circular room containing a rectangular table beneath a cluster of bright lights. Lying on the table, attended by two floating lab drones was a tall, gaunt man who appeared to be sleeping. Running around the wall was a white bench with an assortment of equipment stations spaced along it. Lab drones with delicate telescoping arms tended experiments and moved research samples from station to station. The bench space to the left contained the dissected remains of animals and birds, each sample carefully sorted and categorized, while to their right, the disassembled pieces of a shotgun were being subjected to a range of metallurgical and chemical tests.

  The seekers dropped the four paralyzed men on the deck before passing their rifles to the lab drones for analysis. Other drones used surgical lasers to sever their backpack straps, then carried the packs to the bench tops while examination tables rose out of the floor beneath the men. The tables emitted white nano membranes that swam over their bodies, pinning them in gentle, but vice-like grips. Once the captured specimens were restrained, the seekers disappeared back down the corridor at high speed.

  Slab was the first to have feeling begin to return to his fingers and toes. Even though the ship had mapped human DNA, it had not yet analyzed enough specimens to precisely compute stun charges for different body masses. Its analysis, however, had led to the identification of thousands of bioagents that could potentially eliminate all life on the planet or wipe out a single species. What it had not yet determined was whether the production of such organisms was an effective use of resources, considering it required repairing the wrecked genetic engineering labs. With the vast array of critical repairs that had to be carried out, the Command Nexus had temporarily deferred adding a biological dimension to its strategy.

  All Slab knew was he could wiggle his toes and he itched in places he couldn’t scratch. The vice-like grip of the nano membrane restrained him like a steel stocking, preventing him from turning his head, but not his eyes. Wal lay to his right, mouth open, staring blankly at the bright ceiling panel illuminating their tables, while Cracker blinked, trying to focus. Bill was outside his line of sight, although he saw a lab drone laying out the contents of Bill’s pack for analysis.

  One of the lab drones floated into view, its silent approach startling him. In one of its slender tentacles it carried a surgical laser identical to the device that had sheared off their backpacks. Its other arms carried a white circular ball of sterilized cloth and a shiny silver machine fitted with a circular cup at one end. The cup seemed familiar, then he remembered
why. His eye darted across to where a knobby emu leg stood perpendicular to the bench. A shiny metal device the twin of the one carried by the lab drone held the leg where the knee joint would have been.

  Slab’s eyes shot back to the lab drone, certain it was going to dissect him alive. It floated up beside his hip as a rectangular surface extended out from the table in line with his left shoulder. The white nano membrane slid away from his left arm all the way to the shoulder, but remained in place across his chest. One of the lab drone’s tentacles moved his forearm onto the extended table section with the care of a surgeon, while its other arms held the circular pad and the metal clamp above his elbow joint. Once his arm was in place, nano membrane began to slide up over his wrist from the extended table section. The lab drone floated toward Slab’s arm, aiming the laser cutter just above his forearm. The tip glowed as a red beam stabbed down onto the table and began to move toward his arm.

  A burst of terror sent adrenalin surging through Slab’s body, forcing paralyzed muscles to life and giving him a strength unknown except in moments of primal fear. He jerked his arm off the table extension before the nano membrane could coalesce around his wrist. His arm felt unusually heavy, but panic was driving adrenalin into his sluggish muscles.

  The lab drone rotated slightly toward him, surprised its large specimen retained the ability to move. Nano membrane from Slab’s chest swarmed along his arm toward his elbow as he locked his big paw on the finger thin tentacle holding the laser cutter. When the nano membrane dragged his arm down to the table, he refused to let go. In spite of its life-like movements, the tentacle was coldly metallic and in his weakened state, as hard as steel. Unable to crush it, he turned his wrist, finding the slender tentacle, designed for precision not strength, unable to resist. The beam pointed to the floor harmlessly, then arced away as Slab twisted, trying to snap the tentacle.