“Doc, are they friend or foe?” Beckman’s voice sounded hollowly from the radio stuck to the center of the door.
Dr McInness stared at the six shapes, unable to decide, then the radio sparked and crumpled as it was crushed under its own weight.
Virus gave Dr McInness an angry look. “He needed an answer! That’s what you’re here for. You should have guessed!”
“Hey,” Vamp snapped at Virus. “He didn’t know!”
“I’m sorry,” Dr McInness said miserably.
Virus turned back to the screen, drawn irresistibly back to the symbols floating beside the six ships, their meaning almost within reach, while the magnetic field pulsed again, more strongly. The door squealed and folded out like rubber, creating a vertical tear down the right side. Through the fractures, they saw armored seekers outside, waiting for the door to collapse.
The fog hiding the meaning of the symbol floating beside the ships finally cleared from Virus’ mind. Too late, he said, “It means . . . Unknown.”
* * * *
Cracker fired down at the maintenance drones working to free the battloid at the bottom of the Nexus Chamber, then his pistol clicked empty. “I’m out.”
Slab slammed a clip into his weapon. “This is my last one.”
They heard metal footsteps rapidly approaching and turned to see a weaponized seeker burst out of a nearby corridor. They opened up on it together, but the seeker’s shields deflected their attacks as it rotated its twin cannons toward them about to fire.
Wal stepped back, eyes wide, “Oh shit!”
The seeker was struck by a brilliant orange blob that angled past its shields drove its shattered torso into the wall. It wobbled momentarily on shaky legs before falling onto the walkway. They stared in confusion at the smoking wreckage, then Slab glanced across at the sphere. Tucker stood in the entry to the inner sphere with Conan still aimed at the crippled seeker. He gave Slab a nod, then looked for a new target.
“Not bad,” Slab admitted with grudging approval.
The echo of more metallic footsteps charging toward the Nexus Chamber sounded from the corridor, then a second weaponized seeker appeared beside the smoking ruin of the first. Cracker fired rapidly at its legs, which buckled underneath it.
Bill glanced over at the containment sphere, seeing Beckman’s team were now inside. “They’re in.”
“Good, now let’s get the hell out of here,” Cracker said.
“No, let’s stay and have tea and bickies with the psycho killer robots,” Wal said, then he made a face that showed how ludicrous the idea was, and immediately sprinted for the nearest corridor adjoining the walkway. He was halfway to the exit, before the others started after him.
“The big bastard’s almost free,” Slab said, stealing a look over the edge at the battloid below.
“Nothing we can do about it with skinny out there and no ammo,” Bill said as he reached the exit.
Behind them, the crippled seeker pushed itself against the chamber wall and fired as they darted into the corridor, peppering the entrance with cannon fire. Slab stopped inside the entryway and stole a look back around the corner at the walkway. The seeker was dragging itself after them, its crippled legs trailing uselessly behind. A maintenance drone swooped in, lifted it off the walkway and glided after them. Slab emptied his M16’s last clip into the drone, which crashed onto the walkway with the seeker. The crippled seeker pushed the drone’s wreckage away, then it started crawling after them again. With unnerving synchronization, another drone dived toward the walkway and scooped up the seeker. Slab turned and keeping his empty gun for a club, ran into the dark corridor after the others.
In the central sphere, Tucker saw the second drone lift the crippled seeker into the air and sweep over the walkway after them. He thumbed Conan’s firing surface, but the weapon was still recharging. “Come on, damn you,” he snarled as the drone and the crippled seeker vanished into the corridor.
A few meters further in, Beckman thumbed his radio. “Doc, call it!” He let valuable seconds pass, but the radio remained silent. Six more ships! Beckman thought desperately, then receiving no reply, he turned to Markus and Tucker. “Cover the entrance. Nuke, you’re with me!”
“You can’t go through with it,” Markus said as he and Tucker fell back from the entrance, firing whenever a machine flew into their field. “You heard what McInness said, there are more ships in orbit!”
“We don’t know what side they’re on,” Beckman said as he led Nuke down the passageway.
Their skin prickled as they approached the protective field holding the enormous crystal sphere in place. When they reached the end of the passageway, they discovered the spherical chamber was almost ten meters across with barely a meter separating the spinning crystal from the containment vessel’s inner wall. The interior of the chamber was lined with millions of tiny diamond-like points that collectively created a smooth, scintillating surface, while the crystal sphere itself was covered in tiny facets that emitted streams of electric blue light. As the sphere turned, flecks of glowing white light flashed deep inside its core, blending with the blue beams. Light reflected back and forth between the diamantine sphere and the wall’s inner lining, creating trillions of connections a second. Each momentary connection passed a flood of information to and from every part of the ship and every sentient machine at the speed of light.
“If Tiffany’s could only get their hands on this baby,” Nuke exclaimed.
“Every woman’s dream,” Beckman agreed. “Now blow it to hell. One minute.”
Nuke swallowed apprehensively, then set the torpedo housing and the power pack down. He fixed his eyes on his watch, hovering his finger over the live detonator button. “In sixty seconds, mark.”
Beckman keyed his mike for anyone who could still hear him. “Listen up, people. If you need to make your peace, now’s the time. We go in one minute.” He swallowed, then added in a less formal tone, “See you on the other side.”
At the entrance, the battloid floated up into view, finally free of the blast door. Markus backed away, as if distancing himself from the battloid, intent on closing the distance to Nuke. Tucker fired, but Conan’s massive blasts evaporated harmlessly against the battloid’s upgraded shields.
Tucker glanced at the antimatter warhead, then turned with a crooked grin. “Too late, mother fucker.” He straightened defiantly, resigned to his fate.
The battloid’s weapon arms aimed at them, but incredibly, did not fire. Like all the machines, it obeyed the orders of the Command Nexus without question, but it was self aware and capable of making its own tactical judgments. It knew at that range, it’s cannons would punch through the field enveloping the glittering crystalline sphere behind them. If it fired, it would destroy the Command Nexus spinning slowly behind them.
That was something it could not do.
CHAPTER 23
The striker’s winged shadow slid slowly across the crevice floor. Laura and Mapuruma pressed against the rock wall beneath an overhang that hid them from the deadly hunter prowling above. Off to their left lay the dark cave mouth they’d emerged from only moments before. It had been a cramped climb, at times treacherous, with cave walls polished smooth by wet season deluges and spaces so narrow that Laura could only squeeze through with Mapuruma’s help. Holding hands in silence, they watched the winged shadow glide to the end of the crevice, stop and rotate slowly.
At the end of the crevice, the striker’s thermal sensors struggled vainly to separate the intense heat radiating off sun drenched rocks from Laura and Mapuruma’s weaker heat signatures. If they moved, the seeker’s motion sensor would detect them, even through a dozen meters of solid rock. On the bleached rock below the striker, a marbled velvet gecko watched the black winged shape drifting toward it with instinctual fear. Sensing it had been seen, the gecko darted away across the rock face seeking the safety of a crevice. The striker’s motion detectors immediately spotted the tiny lizard’s movement. Both wingtip c
annons swiveled toward the gecko and fired, vaporizing it and several meters of rock. Moments later, a trickle of lava flowed down the cliff face and dripped onto the rocky ground below.
Laura and Mapuruma tensed as they heard the striker’s cannon fire followed by the hiss of boiling rock. Laura shifted her weight, wanting to creep further along under the overhang toward deeper shadow, but Mapuruma tightened her grip. Wide-eyed with fear, Mapuruma shook her head, pleading for Laura to remain still. Laura hesitated, then deciding to trust Mapuruma’s instincts, forced herself to relax.
The striker glided over the crater marking the gecko’s last moment of life, then floated up the weathered cliff face and moved off over the ridge. Laura and Mapuruma remained motionless a long time, listening for cannon fire and watching for winged shadows. When Laura was sure the striker had gone, she drew Timer’s radio detonator from her pocket. Releasing her grip on Mapuruma, she crept out from beneath the overhang. She looked up past the shriveled trees clinging to the cliff tops, finding the sky was clear except for the distortion pattern of the shield dome high above.
She glanced at Mapuruma hiding in the shadows. “Wait there.”
Laura crept along the crevice floor, which gradually widened to reveal the Walker River snaking through red sandstone gorges bordered by lush green forest. Solitary birds of prey circled above the valley, quartering back and forth just as the striker had done. Far across the valley, the vast shield dome rose out of the trees like a shimmering, translucent curtain which rolled skyward toward its apex high above the mothership. She realized she had no idea where along the base of the shield wall the explosives were placed. The perimeter towers were obscured by trees and by the inside of the shield itself, leaving her to wonder if she was even facing the right part of the dome. She pulled the telescoping aerial out to its full length and pressed the ‘arm’ button, then her finger hovered over the ‘detonate’ button. Her mind was filled with memories of her husband, of happy times and shared love. She knew if she pressed that button, their future together would be no more.
While Laura stared at the detonator, Mapuruma emerged from the shelter of the overhang and stood beside her. The little girl looked up with wide eyes, watching Laura uncertainly. “What’s the matter?”
Laura looked down, trapped by Mapuruma’s innocent brown eyes. Laura realized if she didn’t do it, she was putting every child at risk. Dan, I’m sorry!
She held the timer out at arm’s length, aiming the aerial to the east and pressed the red ‘fire’ button. At that distance, she couldn’t hear the sound of Timer’s demolition charges exploding, shattering the emitter array at the top of the perimeter tower. The trees hid the explosion, south of where she was looking. For a few moments she stared at the shield dome, thinking nothing had happened. She pressed the ‘fire’ button again, several times, then sighed disappointed.
“Is it broken?” Mapuruma asked.
Before she could answer, a vertical tear appeared to the south east, above the shattered emitter array. It ripped up the side of the curtain, forming a narrow slit that revealed blue sky beyond. When the fissure reached the apex, a flash filled the sky as the instability triggered a cascade failure. A tiny hole appeared at the apex, expanding slowly at first, then rapidly rolling down the sides, dropping the shield with perfect symmetry.
“It is now,” Laura said solemnly.
Mapuruma pulled on her sleeve. The little girl was staring back up the crevice, terror on her face. Laura turned to see the black striker gliding toward them above the crevice, its menacing black hull stark against the clear blue sky above. It slowed to a hover then nosed down toward them, angling its weapon at them.
Laura glanced over her shoulder, searching for an escape, but their backs were to the cliff face. Mapuruma put her arm around Laura’s waist, hugging her tight, while Laura cradled the girl’s head, pulling her face toward her, knowing they were both about to die. Laura eyes locked irresistibly on the machine, waiting to see the final moment of her life.
Before it could fire, a brilliant white streak of light flashed down out of the sky and slamming the striker into the crevice floor like a pile driver. There was no explosion, only the thud of impact and a vapor cloud. Slowly, the cloud cleared, revealing a steaming black pool of molten metal. For a moment Laura couldn’t believe her eyes, then she looked up astonished.
There was nothing above but an empty blue sky.
* * * *
Beckman watched the hands on Nuke’s watch count down through the last seconds to detonation, while the battloid floated helplessly at the end of the corridor awaiting instructions from its master. The Command Nexus, still partially blind from the loss of so many internal sensors, struggled to analyze the object sitting at the threshold of its inner sanctum. It knew from the radically unstable elements it had detected that it was an antimatter weapon, although how these primitives came to possess such a device was a mystery. Their civilization would be incapable of producing such technology for thousands of years, which meant they must have been armed by its enemies. The deception plan it had suspected all along had succeeded and now it faced annihilation. The battloid could destroy the warhead with a single shot, but the residual blast and the release of raw antimatter would destroy the Command Nexus as surely as if the warhead had detonated. The Command Nexus noted its failure simply and clearly, without recrimination or regret, for such emotive responses were unknown to it. What it experienced was puzzlement, that it had been defeated by such an inferior adversary.
Beckman glanced at the Command Nexus, unaware that its massive intelligence was completely focused upon him and the warhead now poised to annihilate it. The glittering sphere appeared to be devoid of life, yet it was more aware of its surroundings than any man could ever be. He resigned himself to his fate, tormented only by the knowledge that his father would never know the truth. He’d be told his son had died innocuously, in a car accident or a ‘training accident’, anything but in the line of duty.
Tucker thought of Steamer. This was payback for him. He wished Steamer could have been there at the end, so they could have gone out together.
Nuke tensed, surprised he was going to die this way. He wanted to take one last look around, but knew his duty was to keep his eyes on his watch. The second hand reached twelve.
“That’s it,” he said in a low voice, glancing up at Beckman and receiving a final confirming nod. He reached forward to press the detonator when three heavy blows struck him between his shoulders. He fell forward, never having heard the burst from Markus’ submachine gun. Nuke’s movement toward the detonator caused Markus’ shots to miss his spine, but the blood seeping into his lungs would eventually drown him.
Beckman watched Nuke’s crumpled form coughing blood on the deck in disbelief, then he looked back up the passageway. Markus held his MP-5 hard against his shoulder, sighting on Beckman.
“Get away from the bomb!” Markus ordered.
Beckman froze, confused. “What’re you doing?”
“I won’t let you destroy this ship. Now back away.”
Tucker turned toward Markus. Before he could raise Conan, Markus yelled, “Drop it, Tucker. One false move, and Beckman’s dead.”
Tucker hesitated, then let Conan clatter onto the deck. Satisfied Tucker was disarmed, Markus started cautiously toward the torpedo.
“You can’t get out of here alive,” Beckman said. “That thing out there will stop you.”
“I’m not going anywhere. None of us are, but this ship’s staying right where it is, in one piece, for those who’ll come after us.”
At the entrance to the passageway, the battloid identified the kinetic weapon in the hot blood’s hands, and computed that its projectiles could not penetrate the protective field. It assumed the primitive creature had shot its companion by mistake, but was puzzled why one of the hot bloods had dropped its plasma weapon. Whatever the reason, the battloid instantly recognized the tactical opportunity. Knowing it couldn’t fire its energy
weapon without damaging the Command Nexus, it drew back one of its cannon arms and hurled it forward, releasing it from its mount when its arm was fully extended. The pyramidal weapon shot through the air like an oversized dart, spearing Markus through the back. The impact threw him against the torpedo and its power pack. Together, they skidded along the corridor, stopping just short of Beckman, exactly where the battloid had calculated.
Markus looked down in confusion at the triangular black metal point protruding from his chest, then slumped forward over the torpedo’s activation surface as he died. There was a flash of light, but before the shock wave had moved a single micron from the warhead’s antimatter containment field, a dead black sphere engulfed the blast. The sphere floated above the floor, instantly sucking Markus’ corpse into it, leaving only a bloody smear on the deck.
Beckman stared incredulously at the black sphere. “What the hell?”
There was no texture to it, no sense of depth or dimension. It was nothing but a circular emptiness. He knew by now, every cell in his body should have been converted to pure energy and a vast crater should have formed where he stood.
Tucker furrowed his brow. “I thought it’d be bigger!”
Beckman drew his pistol and fired into the black void, hoping to puncture it. There was no sound of his bullet striking the warhead’s metal casing, no ricochet, no sign of the bullet exiting the blackness on the far side. The void just swallowed the bullet as if it had never existed.
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