Battleship Raider

by Paul Tomlinson

  The explosion was deafening and the blast was so bright it temporarily whited out the drone’s video. As the image re-stabilised, I could see that my optimism had been misplaced. The two outer robots stood unmoved – they were obviously heavier than they looked. The one in the centre had been pushed backwards by the blast but was now recovering and stepping forward again. There were scorch marks on its breastplate and its gun and right hand were gone, but otherwise it looked unharmed. The three robots took one step towards me in unison – it was quite menacing. I was going to need a bigger explosion.

  The two-armed robots opened fire, their explosive rounds completely demolishing the metal serving counter and much of the wall behind it. Luckily they were aiming at a spot that I was no longer occupying. I was in a corner behind a refrigerator.

  I’ve never been a big fan of direct brain-computer connection, but this was one of those situations where I wished I had specified that option. Even with the food mixer and everything else making noise, I was afraid that the robots would pick up my whispered conversation with Trixie. I used the virtual keyboard to type, telling Trixie what I was planning. She flashed back a simple ‘OK’ in response. The fact that she didn’t type ‘Are you crazy?!’ gave me a bit of a confidence boost. It was a crazy plan. And it meant putting one of the drones in the firing line – but I think this qualified as a life-or-death moment. My preference was for the ‘life’ outcome.

  The little drone drifted through the smoke that was rolling across the ceiling. I could see that this was Mozzie going into battle for the good guys. I wished him well. He attached himself to the front of the food synthesiser and began broadcasting. I’d asked Trixie to create the sort of signal that a Navigator would broadcast. Mozzie was now pretending to be the stolen artificial sentience and was sending out an ‘I’ve been stolen, rescue me’ message on auto-repeat. I knew this would get the robots’ attention. Hopefully, they would think I’d stashed the Navigator in the food synthesizer.

  The robot with the missing hand moved towards Mozzie. The other robots followed a little behind and on either side. They continued to look left and right as they approached their target.

  There are some things that you are not supposed to cook in a microwave oven – but I’m not sure that exploding eggs can be weaponised. The ingredients I’d wrapped in an old tea towel promised to be much more exciting. A couple of flashlights with good-sized energy cells, my last two mini-bombs, and three of the explosive cartridges from my gun belt. I wasn’t sure of the optimum cooking time or temperature, so I’d whacked all the dials up to maximum. If it turned out all right, I was going to call it kaboom cake.

  5–4–3–2–1. Beep! BOOM!

  There was a rule in our house when I was growing up – whoever cooks doesn’t do the washing up. I was happy not to be on the clean-up crew in the canteen. The explosion was massive. It blew the door off the food synthesiser and that hit the robot in the chest, knocking it backwards. At the same time, the other two robots were knocked back by the expanding heat and gas. The force of the blast also carried the whole cooker backwards and through the wall – but this wasn’t immediately obvious because of the smoke. My plan had been to take out one of the robots – the hole in the wall was a bonus.

  I had to move quickly. I had no idea how badly the robots might be damaged or how long it might be before they recovered. I scrabbled across the floor, slipping on the debris. The smoke thinned for a moment and I saw a pair of robot legs that weren’t attached to a body and this gladdened my heart. I’d taken out at least one of them. Ironically, I’d learned the trick with the microwave from a robot rights activist. Not far from the legs I could see one of the rifles and I crawled towards it. It was heavier than I expected, but I was happy to bear this extra burden. I’m not usually a fan of heavy artillery – but in the right circumstances, I will make an exception. Trying to avoid anything that seemed to be smouldering or glowing, I crawled over the rubble heaped under the hole in the wall.

  Something gripped my ankle, clamping onto it like a vice. I rolled and looked back. One of the robots had hold of me, its hand wrapped around my leg. It was dragging itself towards me with its other arm – and there was no hand on the end of that arm. As it shifted position I could see that the robot’s legs were missing.

  “Don’t you ever scracking die?” I yelled at it. I swung the rifle round and aimed at its head. I like to think that its eyes widened in fear just before I pulled the trigger. The recoil threw me backwards. The robot released its grip on me when its head exploded like a pumpkin hit by a cannonball.

  I could hear movement back in the canteen – the other robots, presumably. I didn’t wait around to find out.

  The room I was in was filled with smoke and dust. There was a lectern at the front and rows of seats had faced this before being swept aside by the remains of an exploding food synthesiser. Maybe this was where the pilots got their briefings. I crossed the space as quickly as the rubble-strewn floor would allow and got out of the door into a corridor I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t have anything to blow the lock with so I just shut the door behind me and ran.

  The lights were out in the corridor – not even the red emergency glow to light my way. The drones flew ahead of me, projecting as much light as they could from their little spotlights.

  Trixie projected the compass for me and kept me heading north again. Behind me I heard a blast from a rifle. I’m guessing the robot didn’t even test whether or not I’d locked the door. They were in pursuit and they weren’t far behind me.

  Dead end. Or so it appeared at first. The way was blocked by a steel wall that, on closer inspection, turned out to be a pair of heavy doors. They must have been sealed shut when the ship was damaged. Doors like this usually operated when there was a hull breach. I looked down at the gun – it was heavy-duty, but not quite up to the job of blasting through metal like this.

  “Robots!” Trixie warned. I turned and fired back down the corridor.

  “Mozzie, try and get that door open!” I threw myself to the ground as a projectile flew through the air and hit the door behind me, showering me with sparks. The impact left a nasty black mark but didn’t even dent the door. I fired off another shot, hoping to encourage the robots to keep their distance. Looking down at the indicator on the rifle, I saw that I had eight shots left – I would have to make them count.

  “How are we doing?” I asked.

  “There’s a manual override,” Trixie said, “in the hatch to your right.”

  “Gnat, try and distract them.”

  I crawled towards the hatch. I didn’t like the fact that the robots could see me in the dark and I couldn’t see them. Gnat began a bizarre aerobatics display, corkscrewing through the air and make sounds like a demented buzz saw. I swear the drone laughed like a loon when a blast from the other end of the corridor skimmed the surface of its casing. I flipped open the hatch. There was a huge lever that looked like something out of Frankenstein’s lab. I grabbed the top of it with both hands and pulled down with all of my body weight. My arms shook with the strain and I didn’t think it was going to budge. When it did finally move, it went suddenly and I went with it, almost planting my face into the floor. There was a pause and then a heavy clanging sound as the bolts securing the doors disengaged. The doors slid open with almost painful slowness. As soon as the gap appeared, the robots down the corridor opened fire, knowing I would try and fit through the gap.

  With sparks and bits of molten metal raining down around me and smoke filling my lungs, I lunged and rolled towards the widening gap. Knowing I was exposed, Gnat tried to draw the robots’ fire. I heard an electronic shriek from the little drone as he was hit. He shot out through the gap, trailing smoke like a damaged fighter-plane, hit the floor, rolled and then slid to a stop. I scooped him up as I went through the gap.

  On the other side of the doors, I dodged right and got to my feet. And then stood rooted to the spot.

  I was standing on the edge of a cliff
with the jungle spread out beneath me. Behind, the doors opened wider and wider and I could hear the rapid footsteps of the approaching robots.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The floor that should have stretched out in front of me was gone, torn away when the Celestia crashed. I was looking down at the tops of trees that had grown during the last forty years, filling the scar that the ship and gouged in the earth. Under less fraught circumstances I would have stood and admired the view.

  The treeline began less than six yards from where I was standing and perhaps three yards lower. I briefly considered trying to jump across to the nearest tree. But if I made the jump successfully, there was a risk of crushed ribs and impalement on a tree branch. And if I was unsuccessful, it was a long way down to the ground below. The huge doors were still grinding open behind me. In a few seconds there would be nothing between me and the three security robots. I pulled on my gloves and headed for the edge.

  The sky overhead was a sort of purplish slate colour. It was mid-afternoon and it looked like clouds had been building for a while. There was a storm coming. I didn’t want to be climbing down the side of the ship when the rain hit. If I could make it halfway down, I might have the option of sheltering on the subfloor that held the ship’s warehouse – or do they call it the quartermaster’s stores? I wasn’t familiar with the lingo. I’ve made use of military uniforms on occasion, but I’ve never officially been a soldier. I don’t think I have the personality for it.

  The tear in the ship’s hull was jagged and warped, but offered plenty of hand- and foot-holds. It was perhaps a hundred feet down to ground level, but heights didn’t bother me. I’d climb up and down buildings much higher than this. What did bother me was being shot at by robots with big guns. The unevenness of the metal would make it more difficult for them to target me, but they were still going to hit me if they could see me. As far as possible, I would climb between the two skins of the hull so I couldn’t be seen from the ledge above. But in places, the hull had been crushed and mangled so there was no gap between the layers of plating.

  Climbing would have been easier if I’d slung the rifle across my back, but I wanted to keep hold of it. One or more of the robots would start down after me very soon, and I would have to shoot it before it shot me. I kept glancing upwards, waiting for it to appear.

  “Trixie, send Mozzie out and see if you can show me the robots positions.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  The video feed showed two of the robots standing on the edge of the ledge scanning left and right. The third moved to the side of the platform where I’d climbed down. I needed to be ready. I saw a space a few feet below me where I could wedge myself in and take aim at the robot as it came down after me.

  There was a sound above and I looked up. The muzzle of a rifle pointed towards me. Gripping tightly with one hand, I swung out and round to get the metal of the ship between me and the robot. I almost made it. The projectile sizzled past my right ear and I felt the heat on my cheek and neck. I felt a slight tug at my jacket shoulder and I could smell burning. The bullet must have grazed the fabric. I heard the explosion in the trees behind and below me when the projectile struck. At the same time, the projections in my retina blanked and there was just static in my ear.

  “Trixie?”

  No response. The passage of the bullet must have knocked out her systems. I’d have to wait while she rebooted in self-repair mode. Her nanos would then scurry around like sub-microscopic ants, repairing whatever damage had been done. Without Trixie to control him, Mozzie floated back towards me, his system in limp-home mode. I could control the drone manually, but right now I had other things to worry about – like being shot by a robot and falling seventy-odd feet to the ground below. I flipped Mozzie’s ‘off’ button and put him in my jacket pocket. Trixie could wake him when she was back online.

  I peered around the edge of the bulkhead. The robot was climbing down and it was moving fast. It looked like video that had been speeded up. The thing had no fear of falling – it would almost certainly survive the drop. Wedging myself in as tightly as I could, I aimed the rifle upwards. The recoil almost dislodged me. I can’t be sure, but I think I shot it in the ass. There was a bright orange flash and its legs separated from its body and flew outwards. And I think the thing that went upwards was its head. It must be a little-known weakness. If you’re ever up against a security robot, shoot it in the asshole. Who knew?

  I dodged the smouldering bits of robot anatomy as they fell past. Above, a second robot climbed over the edge and started down. Its rifle was slung across its back, so I assumed it had decided to climb down to me, rather than try to target me from above. Perhaps it had learned from its comrade’s mistake. I wondered if it had learned enough to cover its ass? I didn’t wait around to find out, I wanted to try and get down to the warehouse level before the robot reached me.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw something dropping and flinched. At first, I thought the robot above me had fallen and I felt a moment of joy. But glancing up, I could see that he was still double-timing it down. The third robot must have leaped down from the platform. It would be waiting for me on the ground below, aiming upwards as I descended. This made my decision for me – if there was a ledge at the warehouse level, I’d stop there. With any luck, I’d be able to target the robot that was climbing down. And if Trixie was back online by then, we could maybe open the airlock and get back inside the ship. It was the closest thing I’d had to a plan in some time.

  The warehouse floor had twin steel doors similar to the ones I’d come through on the floor above. They had been more heavily scarred by the crash, but they didn’t appear to be buckled. With a little encouragement, they would probably open – at least wide enough for me to slip through. The platform in front of the doors was much narrower, just wide enough for me to be able to squat in a corner with the rifle ready to fire at the robot as soon as it appeared. I didn’t have long to get in position, the robot was only a few seconds behind me.

  “Trixie, you there?” I was still hearing static in my ear. I flicked my eyes to the right and my heart sank as I saw why Trixie wasn’t responding. There was not enough of my box of tricks left for the nanos to rebuild. There was a splat of melted silver on my shoulder that looked like stainless steel parrot squit. I suddenly felt very, very alone. But there was no time to feel sorry for myself. I had a robot to deal with. I aimed the snout of the rifle at the spot above me where I thought the robot would appear. It must have slowed down to assess the situation.

  I heard the sound of a soft impact and thought a bird had landed in the tree opposite where I was huddled. There was a dark shadow, a crash, and the top of the tree waved wildly under the impact. It was the robot. Of course, it didn’t share my fear of broken bones or impalement. It was gripping the top of the tree with one arm and raising the rifle with the other. I swung my gun around and squeezed the trigger twice. A hole appeared in the robot’s chest that I could see daylight through. Apparently unaware of its new body piercing, the robot continued to try and compensate for the wild swaying of the tree and get me in its sights. I aimed for its head – but then its limbs stiffened, jerking backwards, and the hollowed-out robot swallow-dived into the ground. Two down, one to go.

  I lay on my stomach and slid towards the edge. Looking down, I could see the fallen robot. Its comrade stepped out from the cover of the trees and examined the robot carcass, then it looked upwards. I ducked back as a blast struck the metal above me and showered me in sparks and bits of hot shrapnel. Down below, I could hear the robot begin to climb, probably using the route I had planned to use for my descent. I didn’t want to risk poking my head over the edge again – there was every chance that the robot was climbing with one hand and pointing the rifle at my last position.

  The metal door was cool against my back. I looked over at the locking mechanism but knew I didn’t have the time or the equipment to get it open before the security robot crawled over the edge. If I’d had Tri
xie’s assistance, I might have risked it, but on my own... A more desperate plan was called for. But I wasn’t sure if I was desperate enough to do what I was thinking.

  They tell you that Fortune favours the brave. What they don’t say is that Death also welcomes them with open arms. The difference between heroic success and death by misadventure is only one small miscalculation. I looked sideways at the tree opposite. On the plus side, it had supported the robot’s weight, so it would certainly support mine. And the gap from the edge of the ship to the tree was only twenty feet or so. On the negative side, the ledge I was on was so narrow that I wouldn’t be able to take a running jump. Unless... It was at times like this that I wished I had one of those little crossbow things that thieves in movies used to fire a rope across to the other side. The crossbow arrow – or is a bolt? – always embeds itself deeply enough to support the thief’s weight as he uses the rope to make his escape. I’ve talked to technicians on a dozen worlds and none of them could make one for me.

  The sound of the robot’s approach spurred me on. I didn’t want to be a sitting duck – I wanted to be a flying one. Or something. I ran along the ledge from one side to the other, swerving at the last moment and planting the sole of my boot against the edge of the deck to push myself out into the void. Normally I would have screamed something loud and obscene, but I didn’t want to draw the attention of the robot.

  For a horrible moment, I thought I was going to fall short. My legs cycled through the air, like a cartoon character trying to run closer to the tree. And then my face was buried in its foliage and I wrapped my arms around it like a favourite nephew greeting a wealthy aunt. The top of the tree bent under the impact and that may have saved my life. A projectile from the robot’s rifle whizzed by and exploded some distance away, starting a small fire. The tree then sprang back, threatening to catapult me back to where I had just leapt from. I clung on tightly as another bullet burned through the air and arced towards the ground. Holding tight with one arm, I brought the rifle round and aimed at the robot. I had three shots left. I didn’t want to waste any of them.