But only the most courageous wags gave voice to such doubts as the citizens of Esperance turned out to line the cobbled streets, threw flowers at the passing sailors, and cheer them on as the raggedly stalwarts rowed out to their ships.
There were no cheers for Tepho, however, thanks to the fact that he, along with his entire staff, had been loaded onto one of the smaller vessels during the dead of night. They stood in the stern and watched as the surviving members of Arbuk’s personal staff were ferried out to the largest ship, which by virtue of its size and the colorful bunting that Tepho had purchased for it, would serve both as the flagship and the enemy’s primary target. Meanwhile, lesser craft, such as the brig that the technologist had chosen for himself, were likely to be ignored. That was the plan at any rate—and the technologist saw no reason it wouldn’t work.
Sunlight sparkled on the surface of the bay, and a band played atop the seawall as a puff of gray smoke appeared next to the gaily decorated flagship. The dull boom was like an afterthought as it rolled across the bay. That was the signal for the assemblage of fishing boats, coastal luggers, and other craft to get under way, and Tepho watched with considerable amusement as dingy sails were hoisted, boats collided with one another, and a tubby ketch ran aground.
It took more than an hour for the poorly organized fleet to sort itself out and finally leave the bay, with Tepho’s vessel bringing up the rear. Word of the armada’s departure, not to mention its well-publicized destination, arrived in Shimmer minutes later. The war for Buru, if that’s what it could properly be called, was under way.
The island of Buru
The commandant didn’t fly as much as he once had, which explained the small potbelly that hung over his belt and his somewhat labored breathing as his leathery wings beat at the air. But by nosing into one of thermals that rose off Buru, the administrator was able to get some additional lift. His scouts had warned him of an unusual amount of phib activity, and once the commandant reached an altitude of two hundred feet, he saw why. Phib warriors had always been easy to spot once they ventured into the shallows, and dozens of dark shadows could be seen patrolling offshore.
The question was why? Did the sudden interest in Buru have something to do with the combat variant and his emaciated companion? Or, and this seemed more likely, were they waiting for the so-called revenge fleet that was on the way? The whole notion of which made no sense to the wing—since Buru was the last place to go looking for large concentrations of phibs. Or was he wrong about that? Because the inshore waters were suddenly thick with phibs! So maybe the high muckety-mucks knew what they were doing for once.
Tired by then, and happy to glide most of the way to base, the commandant did what any successful bureaucrat would do. He dispatched a message to his superiors, told his subordinates to keep an eye on the situation, and went off to take a nap.
lt was dark by the time the much-battered revenge fleet neared Buru island. Sadly for the citizens of Esperance, the once-proud armada was only half of its former size by the time it made landfall. Consistent with Tepho’s predictions, all of the larger vessels had been sunk by enterprising phibs, who made use of their motorized sleds to get out in front of the oncoming fleet, where they could wait for the ships to pass overhead. Once a vessel obliged, it was a simple matter to attach a mine to the hull and detonate the explosive charge from a safe distance.
Not Tepho’s brig, however, which because of its diminutive size, and position at the tail end of the armada, remained unharmed. That vessel’s luck wasn’t likely to hold however, both because it was increasingly visible as the size of the fleet was diminished, and because word had arrived that a large concentration of phibs was lying in wait just off Buru’s harbor.
But, having been made aware of Sogol and her alliance with the variants, the technologist had anticipated such a move and made preparations to counter it. A dozen wings, all recruited with Hitho Mal’s help, were waiting on the fore-deck as the smudge of land appeared ahead. Each of the skeletal humans carried a bag made of netting as he or she flapped up into the air, and each container held a bomb, which, if the makeshift fuses worked like they were supposed to, would open a pathway through which Tepho’s ship could pass. If that provided the norms with the revenge they sought, then so be it, although the technologist didn’t care. He watched the wings until they were little more than dots, ordered the ship’s master to hoist more sail, and went below to prepare. He was in radio contact with Shaz, and based on the reports received, the journey up to the transfer station was going to be tough.
Rebo and Norr were no more than half a mile away when the first wing let go of his lethal cargo and allowed it to fall. None of the phibs were aware of the comet until the ball of concentrated energy dropped through the ocean’s surface and exploded underwater. The resulting shock wave sent a huge column of water up into the air, killed everything within a quarter-mile radius, and sent four-foot-high waves out in every direction.
Both of the off-worlders felt the force of the underwater concussion, and Norr “heard” a communal scream, as thousands of living organisms passed into the spirit world. Then came the second explosion, and the third, and more after that, until a total of six energy bombs had been detonated, hundreds of phib warriors lay facedown in the water, and what remained of the revenge fleet was free to enter the bay of Buru.
Rebo, Norr, and Sogol had surfaced by then, and were part of the much-diminished phib force that was about to invade the island. “Tepho survived,” Norr said glumly. “At least that’s what Lysander tells me.”
“And so did Logos,” Sogol added, having wrapped herself around the sensitive’s neck. “And he’s communicating with Socket.”
“Can you stop him?” the runner wanted to know.
“I can interfere with his efforts,” the AI replied. “Just as he can interfere with mine.”
“Then let’s go,” Norr said grimly. “We need to reach Socket before they do.”
The wings put up a fight, but not much of one, as hundreds of phibs marched up out of the light surf. That was partly because the winged warriors were badly outnumbered, partly because they were vulnerable to massed ground fire, and partly because their hearts weren’t in it. Given the absence of other leadership, it was the commandant’s duty to lead a single mostly symbolic sortie, which he did. But having lost a quarter of his total force during the first ten minutes of battle, and with no ground forces to provide support, the old soldier was soon forced to withdraw.
That left the way clear for the phibs to claim Buru as their own—and for the off-worlders to invade the jungle. A trip they would have to undertake alone, since the phibs had captured their objective and were still reeling from all the casualties they had suffered.
Rebo had supplemented his pistols with a phib energy rifle, along with a bag of grenades. And Norr, who had been reunited with her sword, carried the phib equivalent of a sawed-off shotgun plus a power pistol, which was strapped to her thigh.
With only light packs to burden them, the twosome marched up trail. And it wasn’t very long before Rebo, Norr, and Sogol confirmed what they already suspected. Not only had Tepho preceded them, but judging from the deep pod prints, the technologist was behind the controls of his raptor. And, as if that wasn’t disturbing enough, there were plenty of smaller footprints, some of which had been left by metal men.
Truth be told, Rebo might have called it a day right then had the runner been on his own, but Norr wasn’t prepared to give up yet, nor was Sogol. So they continued the march, and thanks to the bushwhacking carried out by those who preceded them, made excellent progress. As if aware of their presence, and holding its breath to see what would happen next, the normally noisy jungle had lapsed into a brooding silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing, the occasional clink of metal, and the intermittent splash of water as they crossed a stream.
It made for a pleasant rhythm. But hours later, as the light began to fade, Sogol became increasingly agitated. Rath
er than wrap herself around Norr’s biceps, as was her normal practice, the AI began to roam from one place to another. That was annoying enough—but the steady diet of intercepted intelligence was even worse. “Logos is communicating with Socket. . . .” “Two of Tepho’s people have arrived at the transit station. . . .” “The main party is almost there. . . .”
Finally, unable to take any more, Norr ordered Sogol to, “Shut the hell up,” and threatened to stuff the computer into her backpack. That served to silence the AI for a while, but eventually, as the vegetation-covered butte loomed ahead, Sogol broke her silence. Her snakelike body was wrapped around one of the sensitive’s pack straps by that time—which put her triangular head only inches from Norr’s ear. “Based on their radio traffic, it’s clear that Tepho, Logos, and the rest of the party are standing directly outside the transfer station,” the AI announced. “The gate appears to be operational—and they are about to make the jump.”
That brought the sensitive to a momentary halt. And when Rebo heard the news, he said, “Damn!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Norr added. “So, assuming the gate works, what will happen next?”
“They’ll arrive on Socket,” the AI predicted dispiritedly, “where they will transport Logos up to level three, where the nexus is located. Once in position, he will begin to reinstall himself.”
“And how long will that take?” Rebo wanted to know.
“There’s no way to know what conditions are like,” Sogol answered. “If they’re good, then the technos could reach nexus within a matter of minutes. But judging from my contacts with Socket, I get the impression that they may encounter problems. As for the second part of the process, well, I can be fairly precise about that. Given the fact that subsystems have to be conditioned while installation takes place, the process will take three hours, twelve minutes, and forty-two seconds. Give or take half a second.”
The sensitive felt the full impact of Rebo’s personality as his eyes made contact with hers. He was there because of her, because she believed in the star gates, and because he was sworn to protect her. Even if that meant dying for her. Something passed between them at that moment, as a promise made before either one of them had been born was kept and their fates forever joined. “Come on,” Rebo said gruffly, as he reached out to take the sensitive’s hand. “We’re almost there.”
The transit station was made of carefully joined blocks of limestone, which had been eroded by the weather and almost entirely hidden by a blanket of green foliage. The raptor, which Tepho had sealed against intruders, crouched off to one side. And right in front of the structure, where a parking lot had existed once, there was a flat area. And that was where the assassin stood as she looked out over the verdant jungle to the sparkling sea beyond. Phan had never been one to spend much time looking at nature, but as the light started to fade, and a golden glow settled over the island, even she had to take notice of the beauty that surrounded her.
Then, just as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. And when darkness fell, it fell quickly, as if eager to claim its full share of the day. And that was when the assassin was forced to confront the fact that while Tepho, Logos, Shaz, and the rest of the party had been transported to Socket, she along with two metal men, had been left to guard what the combat variant called, “the back door.”
It shouldn’t have mattered, not so long as she was being paid, but it was difficult to ignore the power-core-induced nausea, or the feeling of disappointment that resulted from having participated in a long, difficult journey only to be left behind just short of the final goal. But such maunderings were unprofessional, not to mention unproductive, and therefore dangerous. With that in mind, Phan forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
Logos claimed that the runner, the sensitive, and the second AI were not only present on the island of Buru, but determined to reach Socket. Having traveled with the humans, the assassin didn’t doubt it. She knew from personal experience that Rebo and Norr were not only tough but tenacious. So they would come. . . . The question was when? Neither one of them liked to travel at night. She knew that, but what if they did? Phan could survive on very little sleep, but she couldn’t go without any at all, and that suggested that some sort of early-warning system was in order.
Fortunately, the metal men were perfect for that role, because while the cudgel-toting robots had limited combat capabilities, they could literally see in the dark thanks to their sophisticated sensors. With that in mind, the human led the machines out to positions in front of the transfer station, where their sensors would overlap, thereby establishing an invisible wall between the jungle and herself.
Once the machines were properly positioned, Phan withdrew to the point where a flight of stone steps led up into the building and settled in for the night. Somewhere out in the jungle an animal made a strange, gibbering noise, Socket topped the eastern horizon, and ghosts roamed the land.
The transfer station was no more than a hundred feet ahead—and Sogol wanted to enter it with every atom of her electromechanical body. And, had she been equipped with a vehicle that could push buttons located approximately four feet off the floor, might have rushed to do so, even if that meant leaving the humans behind. The need to reach Socket and fulfill her purpose was that strong.
But, just as Emperor Hios and his engineers had been careful to craft Logos 1.1 so that he couldn’t leave Socket without human assistance, the same limitation had been placed on her. Still, Sogol took satisfaction from the fact that she could assist the humans by snaking her way forward to discover what sort of defenses lay between them and the transfer station. Dead leaves rustled as the AI slipped between thickly growing plants, slithered over an enormous tree root, and “sensed” electromechanical activity ahead. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, since Sogol knew that the Techno Society often made use of robots, but it was because the AI had been on the lookout for human sentries. There was barely enough time to electronically cloak herself before the android’s sensors began to ping the area around her. But the metal man had been too slow, and after thirty seconds of intensive probing, reverted to standby.
Farther back, located about halfway between the androids, the AI “saw” a blob of heat and knew it to be of human origin. Sogol’s first impulse was to return to the others, report what she had discovered, and wait for them to handle the problem. But then a more daring option occurred to the construct. One that, if successful, would not only be more efficient but save a significant amount of time as well.
Still protected from prying sensors, the snakelike AI slipped noiselessly along the ground, circled around behind one of the two androids, and coiled herself into the shape of a spring. Then, having launched herself into the air, Sogol managed to fall across a crooked arm. The reaction was almost instantaneous as the robot sought to shake off whatever it was. But the AI was already up on the machine’s shoulder by then, searching for what she felt sure would be there. And the receptacle was there—right at the base of the metal man’s alloy skull.
Sogol’s head morphed to fit the hole, darted inside, and locked itself in place. For one brief moment the computer thought she might be able to take control of the robot and thereby secure a larger body for herself, but quickly discovered that the other machine’s systems were too primitive for her architecture. That left the AI with no choice but to lock the robot’s joints, erase most of its CPU, and withdraw.
There was only the faintest thump as Sogol hit the ground and wriggled her way over to the point where the second metal man stood gazing out into the darkness. Sixty seconds later that machine was off-line, too, and the AI was back on the ground, snaking her way back to the point where the humans were waiting.
Both Rebo and Norr listened intently as the construct delivered her report—and the runner was already in the process of rechecking his weapons when Norr touched his arm. “No, Jak. I can ‘see’ in the dark . . . Remember? And, given the fact that there’s only one guard, I should be ab
le to handle this one alone.”
Rebo didn’t like the proposal but, knowing what the sensitive said about being able to see the guard’s aura was true, reluctantly agreed. “Okay, but be careful, and don’t hesitate to call for help.”
“I won’t,” Norr assured him, and proceeded to dump her pack along with the stubby shotgun. Then, having checked to ensure that none of her equipment would creak, rattle, or otherwise betray her, the sensitive planted a kiss on Rebo’s whiskered cheek and vanished into the night.
Foliage slid past Norr’s shoulder, a small animal scuttled away, and the light reflected off Socket seemed to glaze the area ahead. The robots were invisible, or would have been if the variant hadn’t known where to look. But, thanks to Sogol’s report, she could see a faint glint off to the right, and a place where the darkness seemed even darker over on the left.
Now, with her senses focused on the area between the machines, the sensitive crept forward. She perceived nothing at first, other than the multiple pinpoints of life force that represented a host of flying insects, but it wasn’t long before a dim glow became visible. Based on the aura’s size and shape Norr knew she was looking at a human. And not just any human—but one she knew quite well. It was Phan! Left to guard the star gate.
Norr felt a momentary surge of fear, because she knew what the female warrior was capable of and felt certain that Phan could best her. But, not at night, the variant told herself, not when the assassin couldn’t see.
Phan was leaning against her pack, which was supported by the transfer station’s door, when she awoke from a light sleep. A night sound perhaps? Or a surreptitious bug bite? It must have been something of that sort the assassin reasoned—or the metal men would have warned her. It was tempting to illuminate the machines with her cell-powered torch, but that would be childish, not to mention potentially fatal. Because if Rebo and Norr were lurking in the darkness, trying to spot her position, a single flash of light would provide them with everything they needed.
Logos Run Page 31
