Message for the Dead (Galaxy's Edge Book 8)

by Jason Anspach

  Keel shook his head. There was an ancient look to these modern war machines, like something plucked from antiquity and made new. Three red eyes—optical sensors, to be more precise—glowed maliciously from the shadows of their helmets.

  Bombassa fired several blaster bolts, all of which struck the Titans’ shields and deflected skyward, extinguishing overhead lights or burning out along the ceiling. Only miniscule scorch marks were left on the gleaming white shields.

  The bots leveled their tri-barrel guns at the doorway and sent forth another burst of fire. All three men defending were forced to duck back inside.

  “We can’t let those guns get on us inside this room,” Exo said, holding the top of his bucket as blaster bolts streaked past him.

  Bombassa changed out a charge pack. “So we push.”

  “Suicide,” Exo said. “Wish I had an A-P rocket.”

  Keel turned to check on Hutch and Prisma. Prisma was still struggling. For a kid, her energy reserves were really something.

  “Let’s try a flashbang,” Bombassa said, pulling one from his belt. “Those scramble bots’ sensors pretty well. Not as good as an EMP grenade, but I don’t think any of us are carrying those.”

  “Good call,” Keel said. “Most bots’ audio-visual sensors just can’t handle the stress of an ear-popper.”

  “Ear-popper?” Bombassa said.

  “Banger,” Exo clarified. The term varied from company to company. “We always called ’em ear-poppers in Victory.”

  Bombassa nodded, thumbed on the activation, and tossed the grenade into the hall. “Banger out.”

  It clattered to a stop at the feet of the two advancing Titans and exploded an instant later. The ship-shaking blast reverberated through the deck all the way to Keel and the shock troopers, and the brilliant flash of light that accompanied the boom made the well-lit security room feel dim by comparison.

  In spite of the limited time the three had spent together, years of experience resulted in Keel, Exo, and Bombassa cooperating seamlessly as they rolled out and brought their weapons to bear in the corridor. Exo and Bombassa peppered the bots with blaster fire, striking them repeatedly in their helmets as the machines attempted to bring systems back online. Each shot caused a Titan’s head to rock like a boxer who’d let his guard down. Smoke rose from the giant bots’ chests and necks.

  But they didn’t fall.

  Keel set down his blaster rifle and pulled the slug thrower from its holster. The bots were coming around now, raising their shields against the salvo of blaster fire.

  “We need to get closer!” Keel yelled. The distance lessened the impact of the blaster bolts. Unless they were firing with N-18s or their own N-50, which they weren’t, they might have to deploy another ear-popper to finish the job.

  Keel lined up a bot in his sights as he charged down the hallway. He squeezed the trigger, and the big projectile weapon added to the cacophony of noise with an ear-splitting bang. The bullet slammed directly in the middle of the bot’s three red optical eyes and shot out the other side, leaving a gaping hole.

  The bot shuddered and shook. It didn’t fall, but it did freeze up, as though it had turned to stone.

  “That worked,” Keel said to himself. He sprinted back to regain the cover of the room.

  The remaining bot seemed to be adjusting tactics. It raised its shield, hiding its optical sensors behind it, barely allowing one glowing eye to peer out. The big tri-barreled N-50 poked out from behind the shield and began firing again. The bot lumbered closer, and the three defenders were forced to hide themselves from the onslaught.

  “Don’t wanna see what a platoon of these things could accomplish,” Keel said, unholstering his blaster pistol so he held a weapon in each hand.

  “Perhaps there is no platoon available,” answered Bombassa.

  Keel remembered the way the voice had declared a death sentence for each of them. Abandon all hope. It had been playing with them. Mocking them. Keel realized that this AI—CRONUS, whatever—was more human than any AI had ever been before. It was enjoying the spectacle and pageantry of a life-and-death drama of its own orchestration. Killing was a way to make a point: that all resistance, and all the strivings of biological life for that matter, was futile. It wanted to instill fear in the hearts of its prey. And, perhaps… respect?

  And what would it be willing to do to the galaxy to achieve both?

  In that moment of reflection, Keel made up his mind to do whatever it took to stop these things from wreaking havoc across the galaxy.

  “I’m gonna use another ear-popper,” Exo said, retrieving one of the grenades from his belt.

  “Go ahead, Exo,” said Bombassa.

  “Popper out!”

  The weapon erupted, and the three soldiers re-engaged.

  But the Titan’s tactics changed again. It hid behind its shield. Perhaps the ear-popper disoriented it enough to hold it in place—for now—but it continued to fire its blaster.

  This wasn’t good.

  Keel thought for a split second about what to do next. It occurred to him that the bot wasn’t sweeping or varying its fire; it was holding the weapon in a fixed position, as though its arm was rusted in place. Perhaps the ear-popper had been more effective than it first appeared.

  Taking a deep breath, Keel rolled out beneath the blaster fire. It sizzled and cooked the air just above him. Those endless low-crawl exercises under energy-wire and through blood and mud during Legion Basic Training were what kept Keel alive. He crawled farther into the open, then rolled until he hit the corridor wall. As he sprang up, he fully expected the bot to move its arm ever so slightly to its left, and cut Keel in two.

  But it didn’t. The bot seemed only now to be regaining its senses.

  Slug thrower in hand, Keel sprinted down the hall in an effort to get a clear shot at the bot’s head.

  The Titan was definitely more alert now. It began shifting its bulk to prepare for the charging Keel.

  Keel jumped, hoping to find himself landing behind the death machine. But the bot thrust its shield at Keel, striking him square in his sternum and pinning him against the wall.

  Keel grunted from the pressure the powerful machine was putting him under. If it weren’t for his armor, he would be flattened. For a moment, he could do no more than watch as the Titan brought its ponderous tri-cannon N-50 to bear.

  Then with a mighty heave, he wrenched his arm free of the shield, nearly dislocating it in the process. He leveled the weapon directly against the Titan’s helmet and pulled the trigger.

  Again, the machine didn’t fall. It merely went offline, leaving Keel trapped between the wall and its shield. Keel tried to push himself out of the predicament, but the machine weighed far too much for him to move it without any leverage.

  Blessedly, nothing else was coming for him.

  “Little help, guys,” Keel said through clenched teeth. The pressure of his armor being forced against his body was catching up to him.

  Bombassa and Exo ran forward with care, their rifles up, looking for potential targets. When they were satisfied they were all clear, they took hold of the bot and pulled, while Keel pushed against the shield.

  The Titan rocked backwards far enough for Keel to slip free. He quickly moved away before the big bot rocked back into its frozen place, its shield into the wall with a resounding thud.

  “These machines are well-built,” Bombassa said, panting. “Most war bots I’ve encountered, especially the smaller, new-market models popular with merc outfits, collapse like dead men when you shut them down.”

  “Yeah, this is heavy machinery,” Exo said.

  Keel rubbed at his ribs through his armor. “Tell me about it. Let’s go get the others and move while we’re clear.”

  Back in the guard control room, Prisma was still struggling and frustrated, but some of the fight had left her. Hutch continued to hold her tight, and despite her spirt, her body was still only that of a girl; there wasn’t much she could do against two hu
ndred and fifty pounds of hardened killer.

  Leenah was talking soothingly. “It’s okay, Prisma. If you calm down I’m sure you can walk and Hutch won’t have to carry you so tight.”

  “No! Because Skrizz!” It was the cry of someone who knew enough of the world to hate death, but still had a youthful hope that—this time—things wouldn’t be that way. For as much as this little girl had experienced, she still carried an innocent naïveté.

  Keel felt a protective urge well up within himself. He felt as though, if he could protect Prisma, he, by extension, would be protecting that which was good in and of itself.

  He spoke softly to the girl. “Prisma, you have to go right now. There’s no way of knowing how many more of those machines might be coming. You can’t stay here. You have to go.”

  “Not without Skrizz!”

  It was clear from the Hutch’s expression that he’d reached the end of his patience. “Does anybody got a med pack facilitator? Let’s tranq her and go already.”

  Keel saw Prisma’s eyes go wide in panic at the suggestion. He watched the dawning realization across her face that if this happened, they would leave without Skrizz.

  “No!” Prisma shouted, struggling. And then she stopped. “No,” she said again, softly this time. She closed her eyes.

  Then…

  “No!”

  Her voice carried with it all the power of a concussive bomb. Hutch flew backward, his ener-chains broken. Leenah was also sent flying, crashing shoulder-first into the side of a duty station. Keel had to take several steps back to keep from tumbling end over end.

  Prisma dropped straight down from where Hutch had released her and landed on her feet. She looked around, saw Leenah clutching her shoulder, and ran over to her. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  Leenah groaned and struggled to get to her feet. Keel rushed to her side and lifted her up.

  “It’s okay,” Leenah said, her voice pained. “I’ll be all right. How did you…?”

  “I don’t know,” Prisma said. There was real fear evident in her voice. “I think… I think this is what Ravi was teaching me.”

  “Damn,” Exo said. “If you can do that, we don’t gotta worry about running out of ear-poppers.”

  Evidently the shock trooper was more adjusted to seeing something like that than Keel was. Maybe the space wizard stuff wasn’t exaggeration.

  Keel put a gentle hand on Prisma’s shoulder. “Do you think you can do that again? If you have to?”

  Prisma held her arm at the elbow and looked down, her hair flopping in front of her face. “I… I don’t know.”

  Keel dropped to his knees and pulled off his helmet. “Listen, Prisma. What matters to me right now—more than anything else—is getting Leenah safely off this ship along with you and everybody else. These are your friends, and these are my friends. I won’t let anything bad happen to them. And that includes Skrizz.”

  Prisma blinked away tears.

  “Prisma. If you promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to get Leenah safely to the ship, and that you’ll listen to Leenah, Exo, and Bombassa—if you promise me that—I will go and find Skrizz.”

  A look of fear crossed Leenah’s face. She slumped back down, still appearing woozy. “Aeson… no.”

  Keel continued undeterred. “I promise I’ll look everywhere.”

  Prisma stared at Keel, and then gave a weak smile. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

  “Probably not.” Keel laid his blaster rifle in Leenah’s lap. “Leenah, take this and give it to Hutch only if you don’t think there are any other options. But don’t let yourself trust him. Nether Ops is bad news.”

  Hutch, who up until now had lain sprawled across the floor, seemingly blacked out, now sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

  Leenah shook her head. “Aeson… don’t.”

  “Wraith!” Exo said. “This is a bad idea, man. You shouldn’t go off on your own.”

  Bombassa had moved beside Hutch and was now replacing the broken ener-chains with a fresh pair. “I agree.”

  “Thanks a lot, pal,” Hutch grumbled.

  Bombassa ignored the comment. “We need to stay together, Wraith. We need to get to your ship and leave this place.”

  “Sorry.” Keel winked at Prisma. “Already promised.” He bent down and kissed Leenah, then donned his helmet. He left the room before further protests could be made, but spoke with the shock troopers over the comm. “Listen, guys. You need to get to the ship, and you need to be ready to go, even if it means going without me.”

  “For a stupid wobanki?” Exo said.

  “Not for Skrizz. For everybody. This Cybar AI needs to be stopped. I don’t know if I’ll find Skrizz or not, but I’m blowing this ship up.”

  “And how will you do that?” Bombassa asked.

  “Same as back on Tarrago,” Keel answered.

  “What’s that mean?” Exo asked.

  Keel sighed. “Seeing as how this is probably the last time we’ll see each other alive, I’m gonna come clean. Exo, I never stopped working for Dark Ops. I’ve just been out in the cold. I’m sorry I lied to you. My job ended up being to find your boss, the space wizard. And when I did, Owens called me back in—to help Chhun blow up the shipyards. And then… well then they wanted me to do more. And I wanted to be done. And when Nether Ops kidnapped my crew, that’s when I broke off for good. I found you. You know the rest.”

  When they didn’t reply, Keel asked, “Anyone trying to follow me?”

  “Nah,” said Exo. “They’re looking at us.”

  “Get ’em out of there,” Keel said. “And Exo… it was good to fight alongside you again. I’m glad I had the chance.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  10

  Bombassa led the team past the frozen, hulking Titans without incident. But they’d traveled the corridor for all of thirty seconds more before the next wave of trouble came for them.

  The ceiling opened up twenty meters in front of them, and out poured spider-like bots, each the size of closed fist. They swarmed down the walls and onto the deck, scurrying toward the crew in a great mass of legs and glowing yellow eyes. Each tiny machine had six optical sensors.

  Bombassa and Exo opened fire, sending hot blaster bolts into the clustered mob. Even Leenah, using Wraith’s blaster rifle, joined in. The bots flew easily apart, with each shot ripping through several machines before burning out on the deck. But there were so many of them. The surviving bots swarmed over their fallen comrades like circuit-chewing bullet ants.

  “Unless the kid wants to pull another trick like she did in the guard room,” Hutch shouted over the noise, “you’re going to need another gun in this fight. Leenah, give me a weapon!”

  Leenah’s face flinched with annoyance as she sent another blaster bolt into the group. Clearly she was uncomfortable using the high-powered rifle. But she might have been even less comfortable handing it over to Hutch. She looked down at Prisma, who was standing slightly behind her. “Prisma, can you?”

  Prisma planted her feet and squeezed her eyes shut in concentration. She bit her lip before slouching her shoulders and letting out a long exhalation. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m trying, but I can’t.”

  “A weapon!” Hutch shouted.

  Bombassa pulled a flashbang from his belt and primed it. He hesitated, knowing the harm it could cause to those not wearing sensory-protecting buckets. He and Exo could carry Leenah and Prisma if it came to that, but he didn’t think they could also get Hutch. And Bombassa didn’t want to leave the former legionnaire to the mercies of the Cybar.

  Leenah pulled the blaster pistol from her belt and handed it to Hutch. “This is a loan.”

  The Nether Ops legionnaire managed a two-handed grip even with his hands bound. But he didn’t immediately shoot. Instead he fiddled with the weapon’s power settings. When he did shoot, his blaster bolts appeared faded and less intense. The bots fell all the same.

  “Changing packs!” Exo called ou
t. He deftly removed the charge pack from his blaster rifle and slammed another one home as the others continued to fire.

  “Lower the intensity!” Hutch shouted at the shock troopers from behind. “You can still kill these things on the lowest setting. Dial it down and hit ’em with full auto!”

  Exo and Bombassa exchanged a look and then did as suggested, lowering the output of their weapons to the minimal setting, a level that would just barely stun a humanoid. They fired single shots into the bot swarm, and sure enough, the fragile machines fell.

  With their weapons on this low of a setting, they could keep up the barrage for a long time without the need for a pack change. But that didn’t help with the main problem: the sheer overwhelming numbers of the spider things. And still more were pouring from the ceiling.

  “They keep coming, and they ain’t shootin’!” Exo shouted. “Means they need to get in close to do their damage.”

  The disabled bots’ bodies were tumbled every which way, with some revealing their underbellies. Beneath each spider was a needle and a container of green liquid. Like venom. “They probably seek to inject some sort of neurotoxin,” Bombassa said. “I think we can go through them if we act quickly!”

  “Dude, what?” Exo said.

  Bombassa offered no further explanation. “Leenah! Prisma! Come behind us right now and jump on our shoulders.” The big shock trooper lowered himself until Prisma could put her arms around his neck. Then he stood up, holding her on his back. “I’ll go first.”

  “We’re actually going to try and run through them?” an incredulous Exo shouted.

  “Yes! Now grab Leenah and go!” Bombassa took off, charging toward the swarm.

  “Who’s carrying me?” Hutch called out after him.

  Still firing, Exo looked at the man. Hutch’s legs were armored, though much of the upper equipment was long gone. “You’re good to go from the waist down, man. Just run fast and hope the critters can’t high jump.”

  Exo swept Leenah into his arms and took off.

  Hutch slid his feet on the deck like a bullitar preparing to charge. “Yeah, comforting.”