Operation: Bug Spray (Argonauts Book 9)

by Isaac Hooke

  “Zhidao has been busy,” Snakeoil said.

  Rade received a video sharing request. He accepted, and the feed overlaid his vision. The camera was zoomed in on the grappling hook.

  “Crabs,” Rade said.

  “Uh huh,” Snakeoil said.

  Rade had recognized the alien monsters swarming about the grappler immediately. He had faced them in the first Alien War, when humanity was originally introduced to the Phants. Each of the creatures was about one meter tall by two meters wide, assuming the scale indicator on the video was accurate. Their black carapaces bristled with sharp spikes. Their eight pairs of legs had hooks on the feet that allowed them to cling to the surface despite the near zero G. Above the legs, pincers and crushing mandibles emerged from the carapace on all sides, as if it had multiple heads. There were no obvious eyes of any kind. The skin was black and semi-translucent, so that Rade could see the three red hearts beating inside all of them.

  Umbilicals protruded from the top of each of them, and trailed away into one of the nearby crevices. Though he couldn’t see inside the crevice from the ship’s current angle, no doubt those umbilicals connected the crabs to one of the massive slugs that handled the digestion of rock into geronium. Considering that the upper-dimensional imprints of dead organic lifeforms were required as a catalyst for the conversion, those slugs wouldn’t actually be creating any geronium at the moment.

  Rade wondered if the creatures would survive the impact with the planet. It was doubtful. More likely Zhidao had grown them more for defense than anything else. The Purple must have had other embryos available that he could use to refresh the slug population after destroying all life on the world.

  The aliens retreated into the crevice as Rade watched, with each crab scrambling along its umbilical until it vanished from view. The exposed umbilicals were the last to disappear; the long cords looped back upon themselves as they were dragged inside.

  The camera feed updated as Snakeoil switched to the viewpoint of another observation drone out there, one that offered a better angle on the crevice, but the crabs had all retreated deep inside by then.

  “Well that confirms why Zhidao wants to destroy the alien planet,” Rade said. “Though I never suspected he actually had any slugs with him. I always thought he was just getting the planet ready for the arrival of the main host, and when the other Phants arrived, they’d seed the planet with slugs to begin converting the crust into geronium.”

  “Yeah,” Snakeoil said. “Looks like he wanted to get started a little earlier.”

  “Maybe he’s hungry,” Bender commented over the comm.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Surus piped in. “I’m essentially on a starvation diet as it is. Not all Phants can endure such meager geronium intake.”

  “Guess we won’t be hearing back from the drone scouts you sent inside after all,” Rade said. “At least not from this particular asteroid.”

  “Suppose not,” Snakeoil agreed. He seemed bummed at the loss. Rade could relate—as a starship owner, he understood how costly things like drones could be.

  “Should we lob a missile inside?” Lui asked.

  “Might be a good idea,” Rade said. “Snakeoil?”

  Snakeoil hesitated. Hellfires were just as expensive as drones, if not more so. But Surus was paying for it all.

  “Gunner, send in a Hellfire,” Snakeoil finally ordered.

  “Missile away,” the appropriate specialist replied.

  Rade saw a flash emanate from the crevice.

  “Impact,” Jimmy said.

  “Send in the observation drone,” Snakeoil said. “Let’s see if we did any damage.”

  “Sending in the drone,” the ops specialist replied.

  “That’s your last drone...” Rade told Snakeoil.

  “I know,” Snakeoil said. “But I still have a couple of shuttles, including yours. We can use those for reconnaissance if we have to.”

  “True enough,” Rade said.

  Rade switched to the viewpoint from the drone feed—Snakeoil had granted him access—and he watched it descend into the depths. The tunnel seemed empty.

  A sudden blur filled the feed and then the display cut out.

  “We just lost the video feed,” Jimmy said.

  “I noticed,” Snakeoil said. “Looks like our Hellfire didn’t harm the crabs.”

  Rade scratched his chin. “A missile like that could easily take out a bunch of crabs. The host slug, on the other hand, well that’s where the missile would have some trouble…”

  “I agree,” Snakeoil said. “But given the somewhat tight confines of the tunnel, it’s more likely the missile crashed into one of the tunnel walls rather than even striking any crabs.”

  “So missiles are useless, you’re saying,” Rade told him.

  “At the moment.”

  “Carbon fiber cord number one just snapped,” Jimmy said.

  “Get me a bead on Cord One,” Snakeoil said.

  Rade had access to the feed, and saw the crabs swarming around the grappler site. Just as with the previous grappler, there was a nearby crevice where all of the umbilicals led to, but no slug in view.

  “Target those crabs with the Vipers before they can run away,” Rade said. “Pick off as many of them while you can.”

  “Gunner, do it,” Snakeoil ordered.

  “Firing Vipers,” the gunnery specialist said.

  On the display, stricken crabs began to float lifelessly from the surface. As black blood crystallized from their bodies, the other crabs realized what was happening and retreated in a frenzy. In moments there were none alive left on the surface.

  The dead crabs continued to float upward, but then were suddenly dragged down toward the crevice as the unseen host slug retreated deeper. Some of those alien bodies slammed into the lip of the crevice before vanishing from view.

  “Got seven of them with the Vipers,” the gunnery specialist said. “The rest were too quick.”

  “We saw,” Snakeoil said. “Ops, point the cameras at the remaining two grappler sites.”

  The video window that floated in front of Rade split into two, so that he was looking at the two remaining sites.

  “There are no crevices nearby,” Rade said.

  “I see that,” Snakeoil said. “But slugs can tunnel…”

  “Sure, but in this case it might not be worth the effort,” Rade said. “Depending on how far away the slugs are from those sites.”

  “I think it would be a safe bet to assume they’re sticking to the crevices for now,” Snakeoil said.

  “I’d agree with that,” Rade said.

  “Ops, how far is the closest crevice from site number three?” Snakeoil asked.

  “Fifty kilometers,” Jimmy answered.

  “And from site number four?” Snakeoil said.

  “Thirty-five,” the ops specialist said.

  Snakeoil glanced at Rade. “That is a bit far. If the crabs and slugs are being controlled by Zhidao, which seems likely, I doubt he’ll bother to send them to the remaining two grappling sites, especially considering he’s already achieved his goal of stopping us from veering the asteroid off course.”

  “But would he know that?” Rade said.

  “I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Snakeoil said. “He understands physics just as well as we do. And my guess is he’s installed hidden cameras on the asteroids, or out here in space somewhere. Keeping tabs on us.”

  Rade nodded. “He’d rather keep his crabs and slugs lurking in reserve, waiting for us to replace the existing grapplers. Can we move the two compromised sites further north, near the other two?”

  “No,” Snakeoil said. “Not without causing the asteroid undue stress. Given how weak the surface is already, we could end up splitting it into two asteroids, instead of one.”

  “How much leeway do we have?” Rade asked.

  “Maggot?” Snakeoil said.

  “The farthest we can move the existing sites is one kilometer in any direction,
” Maggot said.

  “Which means the crevice will still be a little over a kilometer away...” Rade said. “What about if we relocated all four to a different side entirely? To the top, bottom, or opposite side?”

  “If the goal is to place a grappler site away from the crevices, it won’t help,” Maggot said. “On the other side, for example, two of the grapplers will have less than three kilometers clearance from nearby crevices.”

  “That’s still too close, considering that the slugs are tunnelers,” Snakeoil said. “And that the grapplers have to stay in place for at least six hours. Or longer if we relocate to the other side, considering we’ll have to compensate for the hour-long of propulsion we’ve already applied.”

  “Actually,” Maggot said. “Because of the trajectory of the asteroid, it will take an extra day to move it if we attach on that side.”

  “So that settles it then,” Rade said. “We’re going to have to go down there in our Hoplites, reattach the carbon fiber cords, and then protect the grappling hooks from the crabs until we move the asteroid out of the way. We’ll probably have to do the same thing for the last asteroid.”

  “Looks like we’ll have to,” Snakeoil agreed. “Wish I could come with you, but I have a ship to run.”

  “You do indeed,” Rade said. He disconnected from VR, but kept the Argonauts on the line. “Well, you heard the man, team. We have some grappling hooks to restore and protect. I want each and every one of you down there. We’ll form two parties, five per grappler. Everyone, to the mech hangar bay, now.”

  “Whoosh!” Bender said.

  “Whoosh?” Manic said. “Don’t you mean wooyah or something?”

  “Nope!” Bender said. “Gonna kick some alien ass! Whoosh whoosh!”

  Rade had to smile. It felt good to be useful again. Though the mission would be difficult, he was glad to have something to do.

  As were the men, no doubt.

  seventeen

  Rade geared up with one of the jumpsuits provided in the rather spacious hangar bay armory; the suit was a little small, but he was able to mount it to the appropriate hardpoints on his joints. He sealed the helmet and the suit injected the accelerant into his hand, allowing his body to rapidly adapt to the pressurized environment.

  When that was done, he boarded his refurbished Hoplite for the first time. The hatch sealed behind him and the inner actuators pressed into his body as the feed from the mech’s stereo cameras piped into his vision. He viewed the world from the Hoplite’s head, and tentatively moved an arm and a leg, testing the responsiveness. Seemed good.

  “Welcome back, Boss,” Electron said.

  “Hey Electron,” Rade told the AI. “You know we had to restore you from a backup, right?”

  “Yes, I realized that,” Electron said. “At the urging of one of the technicians, I underwent therapy. I’m much more comfortable with the prospect, now.”

  “How do you feel at the moment?” Rade asked.

  Electron paused. “Honestly? Still a little unusual. You never did discover the fate of the original me?”

  “No,” Rade admitted.

  “So there could be another version of me out there with a matching personality?”

  “I wouldn’t say it had a matching personality,” Rade said. “Zhidao likely corrupted the neural core responsible for decision-making and personality by now. It’s been almost two months.”

  “And what if we recover the other Electron intact?” the AI said.

  “Then I guess you’ll have a friend who understands your every innermost thoughts and desires,” Rade said.

  “Now I feel even more unusual,” Electron said.

  Rade surveyed the other Hoplites and noted that all of the Argonauts had loaded into their respective units. There were no combat robots present in the passenger seats—Rade had decided not to bring the Centurions along for the mission. He wanted the team to concentrate on their main goal of protecting the grappling hooks, and to avoid the distraction of having to watch out for any robots nestled in their back seats.

  “I want two fire teams,” Rade said. “Shaw, Surus, Harlequin, Bender, you’re with me. We’re T1. Tahoe, you’re in charge of T2. Lui, TJ, Fret, and Manic, you’ll join him. T1 gets grappler site one, T2 takes number two. Because of the open space, communications shouldn’t be a problem.” The comm nodes in the mechs were about half as powerful as those aboard a Dragonfly shuttle, but because the teams would remain relatively close to the Motley Brown, the vessel would provide an additional signal boost, at least while the Hoplites remained on the surface of the asteroid. “Tahoe, choose one of your men to handle carbon fiber cable retrieval. Bender, I choose you for my team.”

  “Thank you boss!” Bender said. “Notice how he always picks me for the hard stuff?”

  “That’s the easy part,” Manic said. “Now, defending the grappling hook on the surface? That’s hard.”

  “Manic,” Tahoe said. “You’ll be handling our cable retrieval.”

  “Ha ha!” Bender said. “Spoke to soon huh Man Lick? Icky Man Lick. Hey, I just got myself a new nickname for you! Icky Man, the icky little man licking bitch! Wait! Even better… forget Icky Man, and go with: Man-Bitch!”

  “Yeah, all right Blender,” Manic said.

  “Blender?” Bender said. “That the best you can come up with? ‘Whoa ho! I’ve insulted him real bad. I’ve called him Blender! I’m a frickin’ evil genius!’ More like a moron.”

  “That’s idiot savant to you,” Manic said.

  “You would want me to call you an idiot…” Bender said.

  “Deploy!” Rade said.

  The bay doors opened. The mechs walked to the edge, and one by one leaped out. Save for Bender and Manic, who simply swiveled onto the hull.

  Rade felt the zero gravity immediately when he leaped from the opening, and his stomach tossed and turned.

  Never get used to that.

  He thrust downward and the G forces from the acceleration provided some relief.

  He fired the aerospike thrusters in his feet to slow his descent, and landed twenty meters from the first grappler site. Rade could see the metal harpoon protruding from the surface, and the severed carbon fiber cord hanging from it. The cord curled upward slightly on one side, as the gravity wasn’t strong enough to pull it completely downward against the crosswise acceleration.

  “Deploy, defensive formation Compass, centered at the harpoon,” Rade ordered. “Use the magnetic mounts.”

  There was a high degree of metal in the rocks, so when Rade activated the magnets in his feet he readily stuck to the surface. Those magnetic mounts had the ability to alter their intensity all along their emission planes, based on the mineral composition underneath, for example making the magnetic field less intense near the rear of the foot versus the front to compensate for the varying densities of ferromagnetic elements directly below. This prevented pieces of the asteroid from sticking to the mechs, for example.

  The remaining members of T1—Surus, Shaw, and Harlequin—joined Rade, forming a diamond shape around the broken harpoon, each member assuming one of the four points of the compass, fifteen meters from the site. Rade swiveled a cobra laser into each arm.

  “Electron, you have control of the left cobra,” Rade said.

  “Roger that,” the mech’s AI replied.

  Rade aimed the targeting reticle of the right-hand cobra toward the crevice that was two hundred meters in front of him and then scanned for tangos. The two HS3s scouts Snakeoil had lent the team hovered over the crevice, sending LIDAR into it. The empty, winding tunnels beyond proved empty, for now.

  On his overhead map, Rade watched the indicators of T2 move into a similar formation around the second site. T2 had the final two HS3 scouts in Snakeoil’s inventory, and the scouts watched the crevices near that team, respectively.

  According to the map, Bender and Manic continue to crawl along the hull of the Motley Brown, making their way toward the grappling hook launchers.


  “Just reached grappling launcher numero uno,” Bender said. “That’s a nod to you, TJ, you Italian Stallion.”

  “Nods are always appreciated,” TJ said.

  “And I just reached launcher número dos,” Manic said. “A little Spanish for the Boss.”

  “Suck up!” Bender said.

  “Watch when the Boss increases my pay a month from now and leaves yours the same,” Manic said.

  “Slide down the carbon fiber cords,” Rade ordered. “Bring them in.”

  Rade waited as Bender descended toward their current position, while Manic jetted toward T2. Rade watched the mech come into view, slinging along the carbon fiber cord that Rade couldn’t see. When Bender neared the tip of that cord, he’d tighten his grip to prevent it from slipping away.

  Bender floated downward, coming closer, and abruptly fired reverse thrust to bring himself to a stop ten meters up.

  “Uh,” Bender said.

  “That’s it?” Rade asked.

  “That’s it,” Bender replied. “Only got a half meter more slack.”

  “Snakeoil, you’re going to have to bring the Motley Brown a little closer,” Rade said. “You’ve drifted off course.”

  “Try again,” Snakeoil said a moment later.

  Bender’s mech moved downward under his thrust. “Lookin’ good.”

  Bender touched down, and activated the magnets in the feet of his mech, Juggernaut, to secure himself to the surface.

  “Let’s get this joined up,” Rade said. “Harlequin, help Bender with the attachment.”

  Harlequin left his place in the formation and directed his Hoplite towered Bender.

  “You think you can handle this, Harley Boy?” Bender asked.

  “I am fully equipped to complete the joining of—” Harlequin began.

  “I was joking, AI,” Bender said. “You’re never going to get human sarcasm, are you? Just come here and let’s get this done.”

  The rear camera feed was active in the upper area of Rade’s HUD, acting as a rear view mirror of sorts. With it, he was able to watch as Harlequin’s mech reached the site and picked up the severed portion of the cord that was still connected to the harpoon in the rock. Harlequin had retracted both of his mech’s weapons mounts, but in that moment he swiveled the cobra back into place on the right arm, holding the laser up against the tip of the carbon fiber cord. Meanwhile, Bender positioned the end of his own carbon fiber cord against Juggernaut’s cobra.