The sergeant jumped back, finger reaching for the trigger, screaming, “Drop the weapon! Drop the goddamn weapon!” at the top of his lungs.
Tig beeped and let go immediately, all but throwing his rifle toward the ground. In his hurry, he forgot about the strap, though. A strap that wrapped Tig’s body, making the gun swing around. “Crap,” he said, staring wide-eyed at the sergeant, pulse rifle dangling in mid-air, strap twisted around his neck.
The sergeant opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning darkly. Peeled a hand away from his own rifle and signaled to the troopers behind him, waving them into the hall, pointing them to either side.
The troopers fanned out, forming a semi-circle in the hall. Four shadow-eyed soldiers aiming their weapons at three shiny, obviously scared robots—a comical situation, under other circumstances, but flat-out terrifying right now.
Nothing funny at all about sneaking around an oversized warship piloted by a fragmented, triple-minded AI. Having four heavily armed, heavily twitchy troopers serving said fragmented mind point their bazookas in your face.
“Drop ‘em,” the sergeant repeated, pointing his gun’s muzzle at Tig and Tilli, jerking it toward the decking at his feet.
“Alright. It’s alright.” Serengeti raised Tig’s front legs in a gesture of peace, scanned the nametag on the sergeant’s chest before looking him right in the face. “Smithers,” she said in her calmest, most soothing voice. “That’s your name, right?”
“Smithers,” Oona gigged. “That’s silly.”
“Hush now, Oona. This is serious.” Tilli pushed Oona behind her and swung her rifle onto her back. Raised her front legs to copy Tig.
Oona looked at them, and at the troopers in the hall, leaned around Tilli’s body and raised her front legs, too, waving cheerily at the sergeant and his buddies.
The sergeant blinked, frowning harder, gun twitching from one robot to another.
“Sergeant.” Serengeti moved Tig to one side, shielding Oona as best she could. “We’re not—”
“What faction?” Smithers demanded, poking his rifle in Tig’s face.
“Faction?” Serengeti stared, completely at a loss. “I’m not sure—”
“What faction, goddammit! Soldier or Statesman? Whose side are you on?!” Smithers thundered, spittle spraying from his mouth.
Tig went very still, lights winking out in his face.
Serengeti dug deep, summoning her most pleasant of AI voices to try and keep this whole thing from boiling over. “We’re not—”
“I’m an owl!” Oona cried, scurrying forward, friendly smile pasted across her chromed face. “Who-who-who,” she hooted, tucking her front legs up, flapping them like a chicken. “Who-who-whoo-oo!” she giggled, strutting in place, head bobbing front and back.
Smithers frowned, throwing sidelong looks at the soldiers on either side of him.
“It’s a TIG, Sarge,” one of the troopers said. Female, from the voice. Dark, greasy hair, pale skin showing beneath black-and-olive war paint. “It’s just a TIG.” The trooper lowered her rifle, smile curving her lips. “Cute little thing, too,” she said, giving Oona the once over.
Oona hooted, giggling, flapping her wings for all they were worth as the trooper squatted down and held out a hand, calling to Oona as if she were a kitten.
“Careful, Hatori,” Smithers growled.
“Give it up, Sarge. They’re just TIGs. Roly-Polys would be here by now if they were with the Statesman.”
Smithers still didn’t look happy. He twitched an elbow, sending one of the other troopers back to the intersecting hallway, presumably to keep watch. “So if they’re not with the Statesman, what are they doing here?” he asked, talking around the robots now, rather than to them, in typical human fashion.
“Probably got lost,” Hatori shrugged, tempting Oona close. “Got some war paint of your own, don’t you?” She nodded to the menagerie of animal drawings, pointing to one on Oona’s side. “What’s that?”
Oona twisted, looking. “That’s an elepha-elephalala—that’s a heffallapump.” She turned, pointing her butt toward the trooper so she could get a better look.
“Heffallapump,” Hatori repeated, lips twitching. “Well, that’s the nicest heffallapump I’ve ever seen.”
Oona preened proudly, turning this way and that. Started rattling off names—some real, some invented—as she showed Hatori her entire collection.
Hatori smiled through it all, patted Oona on the head when she finished, and pushed to her feet, cradling her rifle to her chest. “Don’t think they’re dangerous, Sarge. Don’t recognize these three in particular, but the last I checked, most of the TIGs were with us and the Soldier.”
“Actually,” Serengeti moved Tig forward, “we’re not. We’re not with any of your factions,” she said hurriedly. “We’re from outside.” She waved at the airlock behind them, indicating the landing bay beyond.
Smithers frowned suspiciously. “Outside? No one’s from outside. Ain’t been anybody on the Citadel but us and the Roly-Polys for the better part of a decade now.”
“Sir.” Hatori caught his eyes, nodded meaningfully at the airlock. “Something did come through not so long ago.”
And brought the troopers here.
Serengeti cursed, realizing they must have tripped a perimeter alarm on the way in.
“That was you out there.” Smithers blinked in surprise, slowly lowered his gun. “Heard the explosions. Hard to miss the noise from all those cannons, even inside.” He tilted his head, nodding toward the end of the hall. “Your ship?”
“Gone,” Serengeti told him. “Dropped us here and left.”
“Why?” Smithers screwed up his face, giving them a look that made it clear he thought they were the biggest bunch of idiots he’d ever met. “Why come here in the first place?”
“Orders.” Serengeti shot a look at Tilli, gave a minute shake of Tig’s head. The soldiers here still thought she was just a robot. She didn’t want them thinking she was anything more than that. “We were sent to find Cerberus.”
The soldiers tensed, instantly wary. Even Hatori didn’t look so sure of them now.
“Well, you found him alright.” Smithers blinked slowly, giving her a flat-eyed stare. “All three of him. Not sure what prick AI dropped you here, little friend, but you’ve found yourselves in the middle of a war.” A glance at the troopers behind him. “Might be we let you stick with us. Or you can take your chances with the Roly-Poly patrols. Probably end up dead.”
Smithers shrugged again, face a complete blank. Stood there in silence with those other three soldiers standing behind him—stiff and unmoving, the atmosphere in the corridor tense and thick, sucking the warmth right out the air.
“Psst!” Oona waved at Hatori, cupped two legs ends around her speaker of a mouth and waved her close. “What’s a Roly-Poly?” she whispered, and just like that, the mood in the hallway changed.
Hatori blinked in surprise, giggled, and then laughed aloud. The troopers with her glanced at each other and started laughing as well—shakily at first, a hint of relief wrapped around it.
“Stand down,” Smithers ordered, waving a hand, pointing his rifle at the floor.
Hatori slung hers over her shoulder, tapped a finger to the nametag on her chest. “Hatori. Torres.” A nod to the trooper watching the corner where the two hallways met. “Katsopoulous is the good-looking guy with the curly hair over there.” She turned her head, winking at a broad-shoulder trooper standing next to her. “And the ugly guy over there with the angry face is Sergeant Smithers.”
Smithers gave her the finger. Hatori blew him a kiss.
“Roly-Polys are RPDs,” she explained.
“RPDs.” Serengeti tilted Tig’s head, thinking. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Didn’t remember ever coming across one.
“Combat droids,” Hatori explained as Serengeti’s perplexed look. “Built like tanks. Limited AI.”
“Huh.” A check
of her database showed an oversized robot generally shaped like a dung beetle. Specs said it came equipped with plasma blasters and a rapid-fire ion grenade launcher. “Nasty bit of business. Didn’t know Cerberus carried anything like that.”
Hatori smiled crookedly. “Cerberus had a few other secrets he didn’t see fit to tell anyone about. Even his own crew,” she added, throwing a meaningful look Smithers’ way. “Had a good three hundred Roly-Polys locked up in a cargo bay. Most of them went over to the Statesman when the shit hit the fan. Scientist managed to hold onto a few, we got a few ourselves.” She waved at the troopers around her. “Mostly we got TSGs, though. Useful little buggers, but delicate. A few blasts from one of those RPDs and they get blown all to hell.”
Tig blipped worriedly, huddling close to Tilli.
Oona looked at him, and the troopers in the hallway, scratching at her rounded head.
Hatori reached down and chucked her under the chin. “Don’t worry. You’re safe enough here. Blind spot,” she said, nodding to the cameras lining the hall. “TSGs took out all the eyes in this section a few months ago. Statesman hasn’t seemed to notice yet.”
“You mentioned a war,” Serengeti said carefully. “What happened?” She waved at the hallway around them, the scarred and pitted walls, the scorch and warped decking running beneath their feet.
“What happened?” Smithers snorted, arms crossing, hugging his rifle to his chest. “Went bat-shit crazy, that’s what happened.” He quirked an eyebrow nodding to the hallway behind her. “You heard the comms on the way in?”
Serengeti nodded slowly.
“Then you know his brain’s broken. Not quite sure what caused it—some system-wide failure, corruption on his network, god only knows what. All we know for sure is the Scientist just up and turned on the other two AIs one day, and now the Statesman and the Soldier are at it as well. Been that way for what? Couple of years now?” he guessed, looking a question at Hatori.
“Sounds right. Three at the most.” She shrugged. “Crew that’s left threw in with the Soldier when the Statesman turned against him. Robots got caught up in it all.” Another shrug, face apologetic beneath the camouflage grease paint.
Serengeti considered the troopers a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised there are any of you left all.”
Smithers shrugged. “Couple hundred of us skin jobs still kicking around, dodging the Statesman’s droids, taking on the Scientist and his little wacky robot army.” He grimaced, eyes flicking across the soldiers with him. “Lucky for us, the hydroponics lab held and the water filtration system’s still working. Without that…” He lifted his chin, drawing his thumb across his throat. “Been hiding out in the dead zone. Probably noticed that on your way in, too. No cameras there. Not much left for systems either. But the environmentals still work.” He glanced at the ceiling. “Safest place around the ship these days.”
“Speaking of which…” Hatori caught Smithers’ eyes, tapped at her wrist. “We should probably get back.”
“Yeah. Probably right,” Smithers grunted. “C’mon.” He flicked his fingers, sending Torres and Katsopoulous ahead, beckoning for the three robots to fall in behind him as he took off after them. “TSGs’ll be all excited to have new playmates.” He smiled, looking back over his shoulder, slamming to a halt when he realized none of the robots had followed. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”
Serengeti shook Tig’s head. “Orders. We’ve got to find Cerberus.”
Smithers frowned—angry and annoyed. “Cerberus doesn’t exist anymore. Your orders are crap.”
“Maybe.”
Smithers kept frowning and then squinted, giving the robots a good, hard look. “Why are you here?” he asked, and then held up a hand, cutting Serengeti off before she could answer. “Why are you really here? What were you hoping to accomplish by talking to Cerberus?”
Serengeti stared in silence, cobalt lights ticking across Tig’s cheeks.
“Big secret, eh? Fine,” Smithers grunted. “Let’s try this one, then. What’s your name?”
Serengeti turned a bit, pointing at Tig’s designation.
“Yeah. Right,” he snorted. “Like I’m gonna believe you’re just some innocent little robot.” He tilted his head, looking Tig up and down. “I’ve been around AIs long enough to tell the difference between ‘bot AI and ship AI, and you ain’t no ‘bot. I’d bet my life on it.”
Hatori shifted, glancing down the hallway. “Sarge,” she said quietly.
Smithers flapped a hand, focusing on Serengeti riding inside Tig. “Ain’t no ship AI gonna trust no plain Jane ‘bot to talk to a bigwig like Cerberus. So who are you? Really?” he asked, peering into Tig’s eyes.
“Sarge!” Hatori called, voice urgent.
“What?” Smithers snapped, turning, following the line of Hatori’s pointing finger to a camera high up on the wall.
Active camera, panning slowly, red light flashing on and off.
“Shit. Scatter!”
Smithers took off down the hallway, chasing after Torres and Katsopoulous, Hatori following hot on his heels. Serengeti gathered up Tilli and Oona and sent them after the troopers with Tig bringing up the rear.
Passageways passed by, the troopers pounding down one hall, turning right into another and right again before fetching up against a blockade: a handful of those dung beetle-shaped RPDs with their guns primed and ready, dug into the intersection ahead.
“Back!” Smithers yelled. “Back-back-back!”
The troopers retreated as hell opened up, the RPDs pouring out plasma rounds that lit up the hallway, scoring along the deck plates, ripping panels from the walls.
Serengeti ducked Tig into a corridor, grabbed at Tilli and Oona and pulled them in as well, letting the troopers run past. The RPDs kept firing, lobbing rounds after Smithers and his retreating troopers as the corridor started to tremble, loose panels rattling alarmingly as the Roly-Polys stampeded after their human quarry.
Tig flattened himself against the wall, waving frantically at Tilli and Oona until they did the same. The three of them froze there, still as statues, every last light in their faces winking out. Making themselves as inconspicuous as possible in the hopes the RPDs would pass them by.
And it almost worked. Almost.
Three RPDs rumbled past without looking, completely ignoring the intersecting corridor. But the fourth slowed for some reason, pincered head turning, sensors lighting up as it scanned the hallway where Tig and the others huddled.
Red eyes pulsed and throbbed, glowing hellishly in the dim lighting. A flash of communication, rapid-fire patterns flicking across its face, and the RPD charged—head down, plasma rounds filling the air.
Serengeti pulled up the Citadel’s design diagram, locating the closest way out. “Maintenance shaft! Hurry!” she yelled, pushing Tilli and Oona ahead of her, fleeing in a panic as shots scored the walls, peeling the decking from the floor.
Tilli turned a corner, holding tight to Oona, pulling up short when Serengeti called out. Tore a panel from the wall and shoved Oona inside, throwing an anxious look Tig’s way before diving in after her.
A shot hit Tig’s leg, tearing it away. He stumbled and caught himself, continued on using the seven he had left. Clambered into the maintenance shaft a half-second before the RPD slammed bodily into the wall, yelling, “Go-go-go!” at Tilli. Urging her deeper into the Citadel’s bowels, leaving the RPD butting uselessly at the wall.
Nineteen
“Hold up,” Serengeti called some time later, bringing the three robots to a halt. They huddled together, hiding in Cerberus’s maintenance shafts still as Serengeti pulled up the Citadel’s schematic, checking their location against the containment pod at the ship’s center. Cursed when she found they were barely halfway there.
“Dammit. This is taking too long.”
Nearly two hours spent in the maintenance shafts already, according to the chron. Two long hours of windin
g round and round the Citadel’s innards, keeping to the maintenance shafts, eschewing the more direct route the hallways offered because it was safer in here, where the RPDs couldn’t go.
Safer, but also far more confusing. Seems the schematic Serengeti downloaded was a tad out-of-date—didn’t account for changes made to the Citadel’s original design since he was first put into service—forcing them to abandon their original route and, well…wing it, mostly.
That meant a lot of wrong turns and backtracking when promising paths turned into dead-ends, or simply led off in the wrong direction. The good news was they weren’t lost—not yet anyway. The bad news was they should have reached the AI containment pod by now.
“At this rate, it’ll take us a week to get there,” Serengeti muttered.
Slight exaggeration. But the better part of a day at least, based on their current rate of travel. Much longer than Serengeti had planned.
Henricksen will worry.
And she had no way of contacting him. Or even Shriek for that matter. Not with all this metal around her blocking Tig’s comms. Twenty-four hours, he’d said, before he came in after her, but Serengeti knew him. Knew how much Henricksen hated waiting.
Twelve hours tops before he shows up with a rescue party.
Which meant they needed to hoof it, and find that damned containment pod before Henricksen got itchy and did something stupid.
Another check of the diagram, consulting the reality of the maintenance shafts around them against the plan stored inside Tig’s head, and Serengeti adjusted her course for the dozenth time. “Mush, you huskies,” she said, nudging Tig forward, waving to Oona and Tilli behind her.
“Husky! Woof-woof!” Oona started hopping like a bunny for some reason—front legs bent and hugged tight to her chest, hind end wiggling as she bounced.
Not the most efficient means of travel. And a bouncing robot—even a small one like Oona—made quite the racket.
Tilli shushed her and pulled Oona to her side. Shook at her leg and gave her a stern look, warning her to behave.
Oona nodded solemnly and bounced more quietly—small hops, landing gently as she could each time.
Serengati 2: Dark And Stars Page 19
