Frontline sf-4

by Randolph Lalonde

  “Sorry lass, you've never been the interrogating kind, not that I've seen.”

  “That's just it, I'm nothing but a wee lass to you, am I? Tough enough behind a rifle, sure, but when I'm face to face with someone you don't think I'm smart or hardened enough to handle you get in my way.”

  “I've no problem givin' you a chance at bringin' info outta someone, just not Burke, got it? He took everythin' I had, betrayed Captain, the crew and he had what he got comin' an' worse!”

  “Give me a chance?” she shouted in furious disbelief. “I don't need a chance, Shamus, I'm running the show! I don't care how badly he pulled one over on you, and it couldn't have been too hard, but you don't get to play police whenever you want to! Trust me to do my job, I'm good at it.”

  “Aye, and with anyone else-”

  “Fine, so you'll let me do my job until someone else steps on Shamus Frost's toes, then you'll get angry and prove once again that you're nothing more than a brainless thug!”

  “I just don't think you should handle my business. It's my business!” Frost shouted.

  “You're just… guhhh! ” she shouted at him in exasperation.

  “This was between Burke and I, he crossed me and I got him in turn, that's the way he and I always ran.”

  “You see where that landed you? Maybe you should try doing things some other way?”

  “What, your way? What would you have done?” Frost asked impatiently.

  There were a dozen responses to that question, but she couldn't seem to pick one so she just stared at him crossly and folded her arms.

  “If the interrogation was anythin' like this, he'd have talked by now, so maybe I should have just handed 'im over!” Frost laughed.

  “That's it. We're done,” Stephanie marched for the door.

  He grabbed her arm. “Done?”

  She freed herself, put her foot behind his and elbowed him in the chest just hard enough to knock him into the nearest chair. He fell perfectly seated. “Don't come calling tonight, don't follow me to the pub, and don't try to force your way back into my good graces. Ash might have put up with it for a year from a distance but I won't deal with your crap at point blank.” Stephanie finished before storming out.

  Oz and Jason Go To Pandem Part III

  They were forced into the open. Servant and maintenance bots wearing frozen expressions, armed with tools that threatened to tear nearly overtook them. The worst was a female android who started wailing and screaming after Jason managed to escape her harsh grasp and shoot her several times in the torso, disabling her legs and splitting her chest open. Her reaction was a surprise and human enough to draw sympathy.

  The stone Jason and Oz hid behind was overtaken quickly, each of them was only able to take a few shots with their rifles before it became a melee. Their vacsuits hardened under the crushing pressure of grasping hands and other appendages while Jason and Oz were forced to switch to their sidearms and fire on their half dozen assailants at point blank range. After a few seconds they had won free from most of them.

  “Run! There are more coming!” Oz shouted over his intermittently functional proximity radio.

  “I'll split right!” Jason replied as he fired several rounds into the main chassis of a short cleaning bot. The operating lights on its body flickered out while its upper arm held fast to Jason's thigh. He took a shot at the elbow, blasting the joint apart as he started running. The limb remained clamped onto the hardened section of his vacsuit for several steps before it finally let go.

  The desperation of their situation became evident as they left cover. Oz counted sixteen various machines who were about to reach their former refuge and they all turned to give chase as quickly as their legs, wheels and tractor treads would allow. They crossed the paved surface and rounded a ruined fountain with the mechanical pursuers gaining before they reached another section of unpaved sand.

  “Those military bots aren't firing.” Jason announced through the crackling proximity radio.

  Oz looked back to see a group of military bots making their way across the sand in the distance. He'd never seen their type before, but judging from their angular, thin, half humanoid shaped builds and the barrels built into their white and black camouflaged torsos he guessed that they were within range despite the hundreds of meters between them. “I'm going to try something!” he replied as he tossed a nearly empty clip into the air.

  The mechanized troops opened fire on it after it was to the left of the various bots chasing them. A trail of light traced the cartridge as it arced through the air and finally landed in the sand. “They're afraid to hit the service bots behind us.”

  “Interesting, if we can keep ahead of them we might survive,” Jason called back.

  As soon as the service and luxury bots chased them from the paved surfaces to the sand most of them slowed down, their artificial feet and wheels sunk into the sand. The maintenance bots, with their rolling treads, were still slowly catching up.

  Oz saw Jason break to his right towards a short service trench in the sand. Fine wire mesh held the sand back from filling the meter and a half deep path that led to the base of a flattened building. What the purpose of that structure was before it was destroyed by some devastating explosion no longer mattered, the short trench would provide just enough of a space to offer a temporary refuge for his best friend. He would be in the open for several meters as he ran towards it however, and the military bots would have a clear shot at him.

  Oz spun around and dropped to one knee, opening fire with his high intensity rifle, sending thirty energy rounds per second at the military bots in the distance with the assistance of the digital sight built into his headpiece. As predicted he only hit his mark a few times, but it was enough. The bots were peppered with rounds as he increased the rifle's intensity and several were mowed down as they tried to reach him.

  The military bots began firing at him as well, obviously deciding that killing him was a greater priority than preserving the functionality of their lesser cousins. The service bots were fully caught in the crossfire, and while Oz had the military bots distracted Jason reached his refuge, turned around and took aim with his own rifle.

  Bracing himself against the top of the trench, he began firing bursts at the military bots. The few shots that landed did little visible damage but it got their attention.

  Oz rolled to his feet and made a run for the ruins of a small information booth. Its concrete backing was perfect cover and it was the only intact portion of the structure. His visor flashed red and marked several points on his long coat where energy rounds from the mechanized troops had struck. As one shot broke through the armoured surface of his long coat to be stopped by his vacsuit he jumped behind the concrete slab.

  Before Jason ducked under cover he fired a burst into the last servant bot, its limping gait and several scorch marks made it look haggard, half ruined. His torso blasted open and he twitched onto his back, separated from his hips.

  His panicked, painful shrieks filled the air between the sounds of their own breaths as Jason and Oz struggled to catch their breath.

  “What the hell is that?” Oz asked.

  “A serving bot, guess I missed the main systems,” Jason called back, opting for old fashioned yelling instead of using his failing proximity radio.

  Oz poked the end of his rifle out from behind the corner and saw the screeching torso writhing there, trying to claw at the sand with its remaining functional arm. Angling his point of view up he caught sight of the military bots, still marching, slowly, surely closing the few hundred meters between them. A few of the more heavily armed bots were rolling quickly across the sand on wide treads straight towards the Silkstream IV.

  He leaned out just enough to fire a long burst into the screaming bot and silenced it once and for all. Before he managed to get back behind cover several rounds from the mechanical soldiers zipped past and he counted himself lucky none had hit their mark. Each point of light melted small spots of sand. />
  He looked to the rock face and took another moment to catch his breath. They were less that fifty meters from the front of the resort, over sixty from the double doors that, upon a closer look, were scorched and marked by weapon's fire like everything else. “Condition check!” Oz called out.

  “I've got a few minor burns, and I can't risk any more hits on my suit. You?”

  “My coat's taken most of the hits. It's starting to break down.” Oz replied before once again increasing the power level on his rifle. He stood and took several shots at the bots heading towards the Silkstream IV. He managed to blow one in half, showering the other bots in sparks and white hot ruined parts.

  They returned fire, striking the thick concrete block Oz hid behind with white hot energy bursts.

  “I wish they installed an auto destruct system in that ship,” Jason called out.

  “Grenade!” Oz replied as he quickly moved to one side of his concrete slab and fired the secondary barrel of his rifle at the military bots and the Silkstream IV behind them. The first two shots landed at the feet of the machines, sending them flying in all directions. The third and final shot in his secondary magazine sailed through the air on a perfect trajectory to land inside the Silkworm IV but bounced off the top edge of the lip of stone it rested upon. The grenade exploded a second after hitting the sand, adding to the carnage of twisted metal and circuitry but doing no damage to the ship they had arrived in.

  “Damn that was close!” Jason called out.

  “Hard shot,” Oz said as he once again took cover. “The others are coming around to outflank us. We have to move but there's no cover between us and those doors. Are you sure they'll get us somewhere useful?”

  “They look secure, someone's got to be behind them. Theirs some kind of field blocking my scans so I'm guessing there's someone hiding behind it. One sec, taking the shot.” Jason said as he stood up as high as he dared, aimed as quickly as he could and fired his last grenade.

  It sailed high through the air, and at first he was sure he hadn't set his secondary barrel to the right power level then the grenade descended and disappeared. “Crap!” he exclaimed before it exploded.

  The grenade went off and to his surprise debris from the inside of the ship filled the air above. “Nice shot!” Oz called out.

  “Yes! I thought it went past the mark for a sec-” he was interrupted a bolt of blue energy caught him full in the face.

  It was near impossible for Oz to remain under cover as his best friend crumpled into the short service trench just meters away, but there were several military bots on their way and he knew they were watching, hoping that he'd take the risk. “Jason!” he called out. He leaned out from under cover for a split second and shot half blindly at where he was sure the military bots should be. Oz didn't get a chance to check and see if his rounds hit anything, the sounds of the machine's assault on his cover filled the air more loudly than his own weapon and he was forced back behind full cover.

  They'd be on him sooner than expected. “Jason!” He called out as loudly as he could.

  The sight of his friend standing for less than three seconds, opening fire with his rifle on full automatic and striking the approaching bots several times couldn't be more welcome.

  Oz took the opportunity to add to the hail of white hot rounds as he stood up from behind cover and emptied what remained of his primary clip into the dozen marching bots. They didn't move mindlessly, but rolled and drifted to avoid fire without colliding and took a split second bead before firing back.

  The military bots were as well organized as any fully trained infantry unit and and each one of them could take a lot of damage. By Oz's estimation he had shot one of them at least six times and it was still just as agile and deadly as before despite the scorches and holes in its armour.

  Both Oz and Jason ducked back behind cover. “We've got two minutes if they keep moving in.” Oz shouted.

  “Less. Ideas?” Jason asked.

  Oz loaded his last reserve clip and took a deep breath as he listened to the internal systems draw a charge. He set the focus and round strength as high as they could go, knowing he'd get twenty one shots out of a clip that could normally fire for days. “Give me a distraction!”

  There was a moment's pause before Jason held his rifle above his head and fired wildly, sending hundreds of blue white streaks through the air roughly in the direction of the approaching mechanized troops.

  Oz stepped partially out from his cover and took aim at one of the automations in the lead and squeezed a burst out at him. The first two shots missed as the bot rolled to the side but the third hit the thin android squarely in the chest blowing it open and sending debris through the air behind it for several meters.

  He was just stepping back behind cover when the soldiers returned fire, hitting his left hand, his arm and his rifle. Oz fell behind cover and checked the damage. His rifle had been destroyed, his hand had been burned bone deep and his suit was already dispensing localized anaesthetics to his entire left arm. “I'm alive, but I'm done!” he called out angrily.

  “Do you think they take prisoners?” Jason shouted out a moment later.

  Oz drew his sidearm, set it to the highest power level and sat back against the concrete slab. The pain from his left arm was fading and he already couldn't feel his hand. His attention was drawn to the sky just then, where the setting sun behind them was sending rosy red, gold and yellow colours against the cliff side. “Wish I could get a better look at that sunset,” he found himself saying as he listened to the steady, persistent footsteps behind drawing closer, closer.

  He was startled out of his lulled state as streaks of light and the explosions of heavy weapons fire started coming from the resort front in force. Someone else was firing at the military androids who threatened to overtake them and judging from the explosions and the creaking and cracking sounds of the melting sand behind them they had a great deal more firepower.

  The Freeground Judiciary Council

  None of it was happening as she would have chosen. Ayan couldn't stop thinking about her unique position as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. It was a space reserved for Petitioners to make themselves ready before addressing Freeground's highest court. The dim lighting and dark wood textured walls were made to maintain calm, to quiet the nervousness that rose in most petitioners and it wasn't working. All the events of the last two weeks and the many realizations she'd made since waking filled Ayan's mind, overshadowed by her irrational fear of what the Council would have to tell her.

  She was seen as an oddity, a scientific first that was an unwelcome shock to the scientific and medical community. Science fiction had speculated on someone just like her coming along but it was seen as an indirect route to an unnecessary goal. Thoughts of a genetically pure human had been abandoned long ago, when the genome had been mapped and advanced materializers became capable of producing living tissue from a purely digital pattern. No credible scientist or medical professional known in the community thought there was a need for a living, breathing template for a genetically pure human. That was until Doctor Anderson refused to let her go and it was partially that unwillingness that drove him to bring her back to life in a way that he was sure she would have chosen herself.

  He was right. If she were given the choice to come back with genetic enhancements or with none at all she would choose the latter. Her life had been plagued by complications and considerations that were the direct results of genetic meddling. The struggle to just feel normal was a constant and as she aged her genetic flaws became more and more apparent until it was evident that she wouldn't live much longer. That was my old life. She reminded herself.

  All my pain is gone, I have a long life ahead of me and I can even have children if I like, something that was just impossible before. There are so many possibilities now, I only hope the Council doesn't cut them away. If I could just tell them to put their judgement on hold until I've done everything I'd like then come back
when I'm ready… she shook her head at the ridiculousness of the notion. “Pardon me, I know you've been talking about this for two weeks, but could you just stop for a few decades while I go take a tour of the galaxy, maybe find out if I fancy Jake as much as I did Jonas, have a couple children then settle in on a long range exploration vessel before you pass final judgement?” She asked her reflection. Now that's the speech I should be giving today, pity they wouldn't consider it. Funny thing is, aside from the dimpled face in the mirror, blonde hair and a few new curves I feel just like my old self. Healthier, sure, but really if I could convince them there was so little difference. “How do you express that?” she asked herself aloud as she stared into the blue eyes reflected in the mirror.

  Less and less she reminded herself that she was the second incarnation of Ayan Rice as her body felt more and more her own. The memories she inherited were filled with medical treatments, collapses and problems she'd never have to worry about again and that was a realization that was still sinking in and she couldn't help but feel new. When Doctor Anderson gave her the digital files containing the time lapsed footage of her in the artificial womb things started to come into focus. The playback was set to some of the ancient Earth music he had played over the thirty years he stood vigil as she developed from just a few cells to a foetus and into a full grown woman.

  She couldn't help but watch it on a daily basis for the first week. Doctor Anderson and his colleagues thought it would help with her own mental image, and it did. They were certain that watching that footage would give her the sense that she had been given a second chance, and again, they were right. What they didn't predict were the questions. There were the normal ones; “How did you do it?” The detailed answers to that one were in the medical file, and with the help of a scientific encyclopaedia she was able to figure it out.