by Isaac Hooke
“Hurry up, Hijak!” I slid the red dot in my scope over the eyepiece of an opposing Centurion’s rifle and pulled the trigger. Half its head blew away, effectively disabling the robot.
I shifted my aim to the right and hit a new arrival in the brain case before the Centurion could take cover.
Hijak yelped; I glanced back to see blood pump in spurts from his forearm.
“Just a flesh wound,” Hijak said, placing the next magnetic disc.
It looked like more than a flesh wound, but I didn’t say anything. I needed him to finish planting those microexplosives.
I aimed through my scope, taking out a Praetor combat unit. Praetors usually led a group of Centurions, but none of the combat robots with it backed down. That meant they hadn’t been linked to the Praetor and were probably individually possessed.
An Equestrian automated tank rumbled into view at the edge of the street. Its turret swiveled toward us.
Shit.
“Uh, Hijak?” I said.
“Fire in the hole!” Hijak yelled.
An explosion erupted behind me—the shockwave was consistent with a microexplosive yield.
I glanced back. Hijak had dropped beside the bay door, which now had an opening blasted through its base.
“Skullcracker, let’s go!” I said.
Hijak dove through the waist-high opening and I followed behind him; Skullcracker piled inside a second after me.
Flames gusted through the gaping hole as another explosion erupted just outside. The heat from the shockwave roared over us. Definitely a higher yield explosive—probably a shell from the Equestrian.
Glancing past the gap, I noticed that the sign Skullcracker had crouched behind only seconds earlier was gone. In its place remained a crater. Damn Equestrian.
I quickly surveyed the five-bay garage we stood within. There were no dividing walls between each bay, so I had a clear line of sight across all sections. The closest two bays proved empty, but bays three to five each contained a dormant ATLAS 5.
The sight made me immensely happy.
Thanks, kid.
“Skullcracker, get those mechs hacked!” I said.
“On it.” Skullcracker ran deeper into the garage.
I leaned past the gap, aiming at the automated tank. I didn’t have a clear shot of the Equestrian—the treads were hidden from view by some rubble. I let off some rounds anyway but my bullets ricocheted from the tank’s thick hull. The Equestrian advanced, apparently seeking a better vantage point. The pile of rubble beside it became more extensive and momentarily shielded the tank from view.
Beside me, Hijak finished suturing the wound in his forearm and then lifted his rifle scope to his eye. He was standing and I was crouched, so that together we could scan for tangos at the same time.
We fired, taking out robots one by one as the gunfire poured in.
Skullcracker rejoined Hijak and me by the opening.
“What’s the news?” I asked him.
“The AIs are running an unpatched version of the OS,” Skullcracker said. “A backdoor let me install the privilege escalation kit in all three. The brute force attacks will take anywhere between five to twenty minutes each.”
“Always a catch, isn’t there?” I let off a shot, taking down a combat robot.
“Nothing’s ever easy,” Skullcracker agreed.
Five to twenty minutes. We just had to hold out for five to twenty minutes.
My scope abruptly filled with blackness: a Centurion had stepped right in front of the door.
Skullcracker unleashed hell with his heavy gun and the metallic body hurtled backward.
The Equestrian emerged from the other side of the debris pile; its main turret was pointed directly at us.
“Incoming!” I yelled, ducking behind one of the thick concrete pillars that bordered the damaged door. I sealed my face mask.
Hijak and Skullcracker joined me, doing the same.
The garage door exploded inward in fragments and broke from its hinges; the Equestrian’s shell detonated on the far side of the bay.
Superheated gas from the explosion roared through all five interconnected bays, but since we had our faceplates down, the suits protected us from most of the heat.
Still, the internal temperature in my jumpsuit spiked rather uncomfortably.
Luckily there was no ATLAS 5 in that particular bay, otherwise the mech would have taken a direct hit and likely been irreparably damaged. A smart tactic on the part of the enemy would have been to fire a shell into all five garage doors, taking out whatever mechs lay inside. That was what I would have done.
Unless of course the enemy wanted to capture the ATLAS 5s intact. The Centurion Skullcracker had just taken down would have seen the mechs and alerted the others.
I peered past the thick pillar we used for cover. Now that the Equestrian had emerged from the shield of rubble, I had a clear line of sight on its treads.
“Grenade time,” I said. “Aim for the base!”
All three of us cooked grenades and leaned out in turn to toss them at the treads of the Equestrian.
The explosions derailed the metal treads, immobilizing the enemy. Its turret was still operational, however. From my cover behind the pillar, I saw the turret shift subtly toward me.
Wishing we had an antitank gun right about then, I ducked. “Incoming—”
Before I got the word completely out, another shell smashed into the pillar. Though the reinforced concrete shook, it didn’t crumble.
The shockwave roared past, and once more the temperature spiked in my suit.
The incoming gunfire became more intense, and didn’t let up, basically pinning us behind the pillar so that we couldn’t return fire. Another shell shook the pillar.
“Skullcracker!” I said. “Any updates on the mechs?”
“The brute force process is still running!” he answered. “All the news I got!”
The incoming gunfire ceased.
We exchanged confused glances.
I was about to lean past the pillar to check things out when a crab abruptly tore into the bay. It was one of the smaller ones, roughly human-sized.
So the rest of the horde was beginning to arrive.
We took out the creature almost immediately, but then another crab came in, piling in atop the corpse and forcing us away from the opening. We got that crab, too, severing its cord. The two bodies blocked the entrance.
The other four bay doors began to shudder, as if taking physical blows from more crabs outside.
The two carcasses were abruptly dragged outward from the first bay, ostensibly by other crabs wanting to clear the way for their attack.
Crouching, I stepped forward, momentarily increasing my angle of exposure to get a glimpse of the outside.
I saw an ATLAS 5 lurking out there amid the combat robots. It had stepped in front of the immobile Equestrian.
“ATLAS!”
I ducked back just in time: Threads of Gatling fire tore into the bay. The long streams of superheated bullets carved deep holes into the far wall, ripping into workbenches, disintegrating tool shelves.
The deadly fire abruptly let up, allowing another crab to come in.
We took it down, but then two Centurions dived inside.
I got one of them in the brain case. Hijak eliminated the other.
Another crab dove inside, forcing the dead alien into the far wall. Those swordlike claws swung toward Hijak—
Skullcracker severed the cord just as Hijak rolled to the side—
The crab died, its lifeless claw slamming into the vacated pillar.
A serpent missile struck the far side of the bay, sending another wave of heat over us.
The garage doors continued to shudder beside us, while more crabs crowded the entrance, mandibles and pinc
ers clattering through the opening. We shot away those cords we could see, and when the crabs fell, others among their brethren dragged the corpses away.
Liquid Phants poured from the fallen Centurions in the bay. They were of the blue, slower variety, and ignored us completely, flowing toward the ATLAS mechs instead. They knew they couldn’t reach us, not while the EM emitters were active. But the mechs were entirely fair game.
I got up, intending to herd the Phants away from the mechs, but another rocket struck, sending me and my brothers hurtling into the second bay.
“Skullcracker, get me those mechs!” I said, running in front of the Phants and forcing them away.
“Just a few more minutes.”
“We don’t have a few more minutes!”
Two Centurions jumpjetted into the bay past the latest crab assault.
I couldn’t fire—I was caught in the middle of a reload.
Hijak got one of the robots, but he had to dodge a crab’s incoming claw before he could fire again. Skullcracker was busy shooting that same crab, leaving the second Centurion free to engage me.
The combat robot calmly aimed its armor-piercing rifle at my face mask.
I had no time to raise my weapon and fire back, or to even jet away.
I was done.
The Centurion abruptly spiraled forward and landed lifelessly at my feet. A sparking crater had been gouged into its backside. Had another robot shot it in the back by mistake?
I glanced across the bay.
Giger stood on the far side of the stall, where he’d emerged via a service door set atop three steps. He held his sawed-off proudly in hand, and nodded at me. The kid, blotting out the world with his child-sized aReal, clung to the man’s shoulders piggyback-style.
Skullcracker managed to force the wave of crabs back, which had the unfortunate side effect of increasing the incoming gunfire from outside, effectively cutting off Giger and Tung from the rest of us.
Giger took the steps to the floor with purpose. He ducked behind a nearby four-sided metal trolley and wheeled it forward, using it to shield himself and Tung as they crossed toward us. Bullets slammed into the trolley’s thick side but the metal held. The rest of us laid down covering fire as best as we could.
Giger reached us and abandoned the trolley.
“Nice of you to join us,” I told him.
All five of us moved into the second bay, away from the opening.
The liquid Phants tried to circumvent us but Hijak and I hurried in front of them, repelling the entities. Eventually they would find a way around. Especially if the remaining units kept us occupied.
Gatling fire abruptly raked the garage door of the second bay, punching holes in the metal, forcing us to the floor.
More Centurions piled in through the opening in bay one, along with a crab.
From the floor, Giger fired at them alongside the rest of us. Threads of Gatling fire continued to slice the air just above, carving up the door and the far wall.
“Mech one is good to go!” Skullcracker announced. Moving away from the Gatling fire, he was already low-crawling across the floor toward the third bay and the indicated mech.
I searched the floor for the liquid Phants we’d intercepted. Where the hell had they gone? Then I spotted them behind me: the Phants had flowed around us and were making their way toward the same mech as Skullcracker.
Another round of Centurions invaded bay one, firing at Skullcracker; the rest of us laid down suppressive fire, taking out the robots. A crab tried to pounce but I severed its cord and it ended up falling dead beside our group.
Skullcracker was beyond the line of fire of the Gatling that was punching holes in bay two’s door; he got up and covered the rest of the distance to the mech at a sprint, leaving the liquid Phants behind.
The Gatling fire from outside cut out.
I knew what was coming next.
“Away from the doors!” I hauled Hijak to his feet.
Giger was already up, carrying Tung with him.
The four of us only just cleared the weakened bay door when it abruptly caved.
Two crabs charged inside.
I tripped on debris from the door. Lying flat, I spun to fire at the intruders, aiming above my boots. I severed the cord of one but a Centurion jumpjetted onto its body and sprayed gunfire back at me.
I rolled to the side and incredibly wasn’t struck.
I recovered and aimed at the robot, but the second crab surged forward and blocked my shot.
Before I could fire, Gatling fire from behind me bit into the crab.
Skullcracker’s mech.
The enemy Centurion dashed around the flailing crab body—
Skullcracker’s Gatling tore the robot apart.
“Mech two is ready!” Skullcracker sent over the comm.
“It’s yours, Hijak!” I said.
Giger and I covered Hijak as he crossed bay three to the next mech. I positioned myself in front of the liquid Phants, blocking them.
Skullcracker continued firing. He had activated the ballistic shield in one hand and was careful to hold it between his ATLAS and the two open bays.
The second mech came to life. Piloted by Hijak, it took one step forward. Because of the angle, although Hijak wouldn’t be able to view the street, he was in the perfect position to cover the openings to bay one and two, and together with Skullcracker he prevented any more of the horde from coming inside.
Giger, Tung, and I retreated to bay five, which held the last mech. Standing beside the inactive ATLAS 5, I waited for the SACKER privilege escalation kit to do its work. My intention was to stand guard and prevent any of the Phants from coming near.
The glowing entities spread out, some of them approaching the mechs of Skullcracker and Hijak, while the remainder flowed toward the ATLAS 5 I guarded. The mech hulls seemed to boost the range of the suit EM emitters—the Phants stayed the same distance away from the steel feet of the occupied ATLAS 5s as they did from my own jumpsuit: one meter out.
I had Giger carry the kid up the rungs of the third mech, and I told him to secure himself and Tung to the passenger seat. Giger obeyed, squeezing the boy in beside him and buckling the seatbelt around the two of them.
Somewhere along the line the kid had lifted his aReal visor; he was staring down at me with wide eyes.
“Are you okay, kid?” I shouted at him in Korean-Chinese, above the gunfire.
Tung didn’t answer. What did I expect? At this point he was probably shell-shocked and traumatized for life.
Giger mercifully lowered the aReal visor over the boy’s face. I hoped there were lots of episodes of that children’s show installed in the thing.
“By the way, the mech pulls to the left!” Giger shouted, nodding toward the unit.
“That’s the least of my worries.”
Bullets drew my attention to the broken doors.
“Well, let’s go!” Giger yelled.
“Can’t.” I said. “The mech isn’t cracked yet!”
Hijak and Skullcracker were still keeping the attackers at bay, but that wouldn’t last long as more of the enemy arrived.
We were running out of time. The third mech might unlock ten seconds from now, or ten minutes.
We couldn’t wait.
I was about to order Giger and Tung to secure themselves to the passenger seat of Hijak’s mech instead, so that I could become Skullcracker’s passenger and the five of us could get the hell out of there.
But before I could issue those orders Skullcracker transmitted the magic words:
“Mech three is good to go!”
I opened the storage compartment in the back of the mech’s leg and shoved my rifle inside. I left my pistol in my belt—it wouldn’t interfere with the mech’s internal cocoon.
“ATLAS 5 open!” I trans
mitted to the hacked mech.
The hatch fell open; impatient to start moving, I used the last of my jumpjet fuel to make the leap into the cockpit.
The hatch sealed and inner actuators pressed into me like a cocoon, enveloping my jumpsuit. I saw darkness for a moment and then the mech’s vision feed tapped directly into my helmet, overlaying my face mask with its twelve-meter-tall view of the outside world.
“Command language: English,” I said.
The Korean-Chinese characters of the HUD switched to English.
“ATLAS, identify,” I said.
“ATLAS Generation 5.” SKs liked to use female voices in their mechs. “Serial number 5845189. Mac address 74:88:16:93:ea:b5. Callsign Black Widow.”
I swiveled the ballistic shield into my left hand, loaded a Gatling into my right, and then took a tentative step forward. The mechs of Skullcracker and Hijak automatically transmitted the positions of the enemy units in their line of fire to Black Widow. Unfortunately, while the attacking crabs were indicated in red, every possessed combat robot was green—as they were SK models, my hacked ATLAS 5 considered them “friendlies” by default.
“Black Widow,” I told the onboard AI. “Initiate war game mode.”
“War game mode initiated.”
Every target turned red on my Heads-Up Display as the mode usually reserved for training came up.
I tagged the mechs of Hijak and Skullcracker as friendlies, and they immediately reverted to green on my HUD. Everything else—crabs, slugs, Centurions, enemy ATLAS mechs—remained red.
I returned my attention to the garage bays.
The crabs swarmed the two openings, preventing any exit. No matter how many of the creatures Hijak and Skullcracker felled with bursts of Gatling fire, their brethren always dragged the corpses away so that fresh aliens could replace them.
Our opponents either wanted us to exhaust our ammunition, or they were waiting for the host slug to reach the garage. My bet was on the former, as the slug probably would have slammed into the garage by now if that was the enemy’s strategy.
“We have to get outside,” I sent.
“You think?” Hijak transmitted.
The three intact doors repeatedly sagged inward, suggesting that other crabs remained out there, blocking the way.
