I gather myself as a shadow falls on the street. Then I see the massive shoulder of my enemy.
I attack, accelerating to my max speed in the confined space and unleashing a torrent of cybernetic viral attacks as I lunge out of the building, exploding the glass panels in front of me. I am in the air, my original right arm blazes with the plasma torch. I fire a quick blast of depleted uranium flechettes from my left hand to add to the confusion. One ancient war machine to another, I send it as much destruction as I can.
My enemy staggers and lurches, crashing into the building opposite the one from which I leapt and in which Wrik is hiding. My cyber-attacks are aimed at its mobility and sensors first. But my elation is short-lived. Against a purely computerized system I would have triumphed immediately, but just as the Destroyer’s systems fail under the blows of my cyber-attacks, they reset. The biological brain within the Destroyer is not vulnerable to my cyber-assault. It acts as the final redoubt for the Destroyer. From within Maximillian’s genetically enhanced brain, where I cannot strike, comes the reboot codes. My enemy is degraded in performance, but his systems are rebooting almost as fast as I disrupt them. Worse still, the time interval is closing. The Destroyer is cybernetically ducking and covering, faster every millisecond.
I land on the enemy’s shoulder 1.76545 seconds after plunging out of the shattered window. My armor-piercing flechettes sparkle and bounce off the enemy’s giant face and his beam weapon, but do little damage. The giant head turns toward me with its fearsome mask. I see its huge arms beginning to move. I strike with my plasma torch. Ceramic and alloy begin to melt and part under the torch, but not quickly enough. The arms move slowly, to my senses, but not slowly enough that I can keep the torch in the one spot. I backflip away as a giant hand slams onto its own shoulder with a tremendous clangor. The beam weapon lashes out and the building I leapt from explodes in flame and debris.
I am behind the turning head but it continues in its three hundred sixty-five degree turn, trying to lock onto me. Glass, metal and masonry fly about the street as the deadly beam rips into buildings. The Destroyer throws itself backwards into a building trying to crush me. I evade these clumsy attacks easily, leaping about the Destroyer’s upper body at high speed, jabbing and slashing with my plasma torch. My enemy, I realize with rueful admiration, is well made and designed. He is slow, but I cannot remain in one place long enough to physically penetrate his armor to vital points.
The Destroyer adds chain gun fire from weapons in the giant head and rockets ripple from shoulder packs. The missiles zip past me, one nearly striking my middle as I twist in mid-air to avoid the attack. My plasma torch melts the chain guns as I lengthen it into a sword shape. I leap away as the beam weapon fires back. Fragments and flame wash over us both continuously as we struggle.
A giant fist swings at me. I leap toward it, grab it and use it to swing myself at the enormous face keeping close to its body. My speed would make me a blur to Wrik’s human vision. I make a sudden change of direction as more rockets ripple out.
“Wrik,” I shout into the telepathic link. “Withdraw. The collateral destruction in the area is increasing exponentially.” He does not reply though I sense he is still alive across our link. My enemy has not realized that I am not alone and must not. I can only hope that Wrik remains sensibly hidden.
I reach the head again and physically attack the joins and seams of the beam gun unit. The weapon tube can endure the heat of my plasma but if I can reach the inner mechanism and tear it apart…
A hand reaches for me, again I backflip but my enemy, by chance or design, changes direction and the immense hand grazes me. The blow shocks me, but I invert and strike with my plasma torch, penetrating a joint and shearing off part of the hand. Still I’ve been slowed and a rocket hits me in the mid-section. It is too close to have armed and does not explode. Yet it flings me away from my enemy and I crash into a 3rd floor balcony. Danger. I am too far away from the Destroyer and vulnerable to being targeted.
I scramble to my feet as the beam gun tracks toward me. The great arms sweep up to narrow my options so I cannot escape the beam.
A blast of concentrated fire strikes the Destroyer’s head. Mini-grenades, AP bullets and particle beams crash into the armored face. Wrik has fired his weapon on cyclic emptying all its firepower in seconds. The Destroyer’s cyber-systems are still battling my viruses and it is relying heavily on Maximillian’s brain, which, with its biological reflexes, causes the giant machine to flinch, raising the left arm to protect its face. Wrik uses the delay to fire the LAW shoulder-launched rocket he carried. The round hits the Destroyer’s face and again it flinches.
I leap back into action, moving to the right and striking with my plasma torch as I race up the right arm. The enemy must choose between returning Wrik’s ineffective fire, or dealing with my direct attack. It chooses me.
“Wrik,” I demand. “Break off and escape. I will rendezvous with you at Rally Point 2 by the bridge.”
“No,” he shouts to me. “Not unless you do. It’s too big. Run!”
I take his advice but not as he wishes it. I spray the face with flechettes to attract its attention, then leap away and dash around the corner. If Wrik will not withdraw from the battle zone, I will move the zone away from him.
“Wrik respond,”
I immediately hear heavy breathing. “Here,” he sends, “running like a gazelle, no indication it’s pursuing me.”
“Maximize your speed and withdraw to Rally Point. Wrik, you promised me you wouldn’t fire!”
“Withdraw my ass. I’m heading across the rooftop to the street you’re in. I’ve still got my triple-auto.”
I realize Wrik is sensing my location from the link. He is above me to the left; the Destroyer is on the other side of the city block—
The building next to me explodes. The Destroyer has used his beam gun, set on a wide aperture to core it out. The beam grazes me, throwing me to the ground. It takes .0465 seconds for me to shake off the blow and begin to climb to my feet. The Destroyer, in that instant, fires all its remaining rockets through the hole it has blown through the building and charges behind them.
None of the missiles strike me directly, but the concussions disorient me and I cannot move. As I shrug them off and rise, an immense blow knocks me sprawling into a large area of muddy ground from a broken water pipe. The Destroyer is standing over me and its giant foot comes down before I can do more than brace my arms and feet against it.
I staggered to my feet, my ears ringing, blood flowing down my dust–covered face. I couldn’t hear anything physically, but I sensed Maauro. She was in trouble. I reached the roof’s edge, the section next to me had totally collapsed and I’d missed falling into it by meters.
Below I saw horror. The Destroyer, torn and smoking, but still moving, stood over Maauro, a foot raised. She lay in the mud and she raised her arms to ward it off. Maauro defeated. Something I’d never imagined. My weapon was gone and useless anyway. I had nothing.
Except my mind.
It came to me in an instant, our last chance. I didn’t even know if she could do it.
“Maauro,” I screamed, “project a hologram of Shasti Rainhell. Say what I tell you!”
“Yes,” she sent back, her mental voice calm as if she wasn’t under the Destroyer’s massive foot.
“Do it now!” I demanded.
I do what Wrik orders without question though I do not understand what he plans. I glare up at the massive machine, trying crushing me. Fortunately I am in mud and he is mostly pushing me deep into the ground. I project my voice in Shasti Rainhell’s voice.
In an instant, Shasti Rainhell was standing in the street next to the monster’s foot. She was as we last saw her. Her black and silver hair shone, and her green eyes blazed in the pale face. “Grandson!” she shouted in an amplified voice. “Maximillian, it’s me. I’ve come for you. I’ve
come to bring you home. Stop this now!”
The Destroyer reels back, its arms in front of the giant face as if to ward off a blow.
I look up at the towering Destroyer, gathering my feet under me and amazed by the success of Wrik’s tactic. I launch all my cybernetic attacks into my enemy. His defenses are scrambled, ineffective, the biological reboot it had before is not working. I am now conscious of Maximillian as a separate entity in the machine, as if the boy has suddenly awakened to his grandmother’s call. I sense pain, bewilderment and an overwhelming grief and loneliness.
I must press my advantage. “Max,” I shout in Shasti’s voice. “Come out Maximillian. Come back with me, Max. Come home!”
The Destroyer thrashes, smashing the building behind it. The machine fires its weapons randomly, in sputtering bursts, even the beam weapon flashes as if damaged. My cyber-attacks gain ground. The Destroyer is on its own, trying desperately to put Maximillian back into comatose servitude. I cannot be careful but rip through systems tearing apart linkages, severing programs.
“Maximillian,” I implore in Shasti’s voice. “Grandson. Come out. Please. Do it for me.”
A giant hand reaches out but not to strike. It is a gesture of desperation. An anguished howl bursts from the great gray shape. Across the telepathic link from Wrik I feel a flood of sympathy and pain. He recognizes the agony in that cry.
From deep inside the Destroyer, a last cry rips from its speakers. “Grandma,” a young voice screams. “Help me!”
The Destroyer topples backwards into the street as I slam into its CPU, severing its self-destruct and auto-repair circuits. I savage all, save one maintenance program, which I trigger. The massive chest plate of the Destroyer slowly grinds open.
Chapter 27
I stare at the downed machine, its chest plate opening. I couldn’t believe it worked.
“Maauro,” I shouted both mentally and aloud. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Wrik. My damages are minor. Are you?”
“Same, bruises and cuts. Is it dead?”
“It is. Let us hope it has not taken the boy with it. I have called for Olivia and the Sinner.
“Good. I’m coming down.”
By the time I negotiated the staircases of the damaged building and reached the street I could hear Sinner II’s engines. But I only had eyes for Maauro, her exterior was chipped and scratched as I had never seen it before. Fortunately her face looked undamaged, then I realized that she’d probably concentrated on repairing it to lessen my concern. I put my arms around her and hoed her close despite the waves of heat beating from her body.
“God damn it,” I managed, trying to keep my voice level and failing. “I thought he had you. I thought you were going to die.”
She was stroking my back with her original right hand which she used whenever she touched me. “I was. This time it was you who saved me, dearest friend.”
“Not bad for a fragile bag of blood and bone.” I managed.
“You are the very definition of the unexpected, Wrik. A valuable quality that will cause me to overlook your blatant lies to me about staying in cover and not firing.”
I laughed. “Well, if you are going to throw every little thing back in my face ...”
Engines whined and Sinner went into hover above us. The bomb bay opened and Olivia drifted down on a jetbelt, her sniper rifle cradled in her arms. She landed next to Maauro and me, her eyes on the fallen monster. She had a large duffel bag across her shoulders, the aid kit.
Olivia turned to both of us and whistled at Maauro. “Wow, he did a number on you. Are you going to be ok?”
“The damage is largely superficial,” she replied. “All is within my repair parameters when I can spare the energy.”
Olivia tapped her mike. “Dusko, return to the base and let everyone know what’s happening. Come back with the mule and a stretcher.”
“Roger that,” he said. The fighter slewed about and headed for the river.
She turned to me and started unpacking the aid kit.
“I’m ok,” I said in surprise.
“Yeah,” she said. “Not so much.” She made me sit and poured most of her canteen over my face, apparently I was covered in dirt and blood. Antiseptic spray and wound seal finished it up. My body armor was dented and scratched but it seemed nothing had penetrated. I felt too many bruises to bother identifying individual ones.
“Come on,” I said, impatiently after she fixed the worst of it. “Let’s look inside. We’ve come a long way and through a lot to see this young man.”
Maauro led as we approached the fallen Colossus. She leapt up onto its chest and Olivia and I followed more slowly, climbing up the Destroyer. Its body was pitted and scarred, gouged and burnt. A tremendous heat scorched our exposed skin and we had to be careful to avoid the places Maauro struck with her plasma torch on its upper body.
We approached the cavity in the chest. Maauro leaned in and began pulling metal and plastic out. In a few moments we saw a clearplast container with a human form dimly visible in it. Maximillian.
Maauro lifted the heavy plastic cover off the young man. I was almost physically struck by the smell of him.
“Is he dead?” I managed.
“No,” Maauro said, slowly pulling leads and attachments off the emaciated body. The fragments of clothing Maximillian still wore were filthy and I could see pressure sores all over him. I had to fight nausea.
“Let’s get him out of the cold,” Olivia said.
I realized she was right, the wind was kicking up again. The only heat came from the scorched Destroyer. Above us clouds were piling up, probably another damn rainstorm on the way.
“I will need hot water and clean clothes,” Maauro said. “I’ll manufacture bandages in my body. Bring the aid kit. Doubtless I will need to make more but it will be a start.”
She reached down and severed some belts holding him in. Tubing covered his penis and rectum and I simply didn’t want to think about any of that.
I was grateful to run and get the aid kit. Olivia and Maauro moved the emaciated boy into a building. Maauro used her plasma torch to heat some metal so it emitted a comforting warmth. She bent some more metal into two cauldrons, one which she filled with water from a pool. She stuck a hand in it and in seconds had purified the water by running it through her into the second cauldron.
“Please go outside,” Maauro said, taking the aid kit from me. “I will do the wound cleaning. This process will be unpleasant.”
“I can handle it,” I said.
“There is no need,” she replied. “Leave it to me. Ignore any cries, there will be some pain as he is too weak to anesthetize.”
Olivia, her face strained and as grim, nodded. “Yeah, all yours, I wasn’t cut out for nursing.”
We walked out but Olivia kept going and I followed until we were about a hundred meters away. We could hear sounds, but the distance was too great for them to be intelligible.
Olivia shivered.
I started to take off my coat, but she stopped me with a gesture and a wan smile. “Wasn’t from the cold. I was just thinking of that poor bastard sealed in there month after month, rotting.”
“Try not to,” I said.
Olivia reached into her backpack and came up with a small flask. “Don’t usually condone drinking on duty. Today’s an exception. Denlenn brandy.” She took a long sip and shuddered after, then handed it to me.
I also took a long draw of the fiery liquid. Somehow it seemed to hold the smell of death further away and I was grateful. I handed it back to her and she replaced it. We stood watching the weak sun drift toward afternoon over the ruined city, each of us lost in our thoughts.
“Wrik, Olivia.” Maauro called. “You may return now.”
We walked back, reluctant to face the wreck of Maximillian, but Maauro had worked some wo
nders. His clothes were gone, destroyed or recycled in her. He now wore a light, tan, one-piece covering, with what looked like fleece booties. Bottles hung over him from stands she’d made from bits of metal, dripping fluids and nutrients into the depleted body. Maauro had used everything in the aid kit it seemed, then consumed some of the material around her for her internal factories. The litter he lay on kept him off the ground. While a smell of disinfectant and illness still clung to the area, it was not the appalling stench of decay.
“I have used the most powerful antibiotics I dared,” she said. “I have wound seal and synth flesh on all the decubitus ulcers. Had he not been young and strong, he wouldn’t have survived. I amputated some toes and fingers that could not be saved.”
“Is he aware?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“He seemed conscious, but not aware, when I extracted him. Like a weak animal. He passed out quickly when I tended his wounds. I would like to move him back to the ship as soon as we can. Additional surgery might be necessary and the cleaner and more sterile the environment the better.
“First however I am going to hook up to the Destroyer and drain its power supply. I have been using power at a prodigious rate.”
“Glad somebody’s got an appetite,” Olivia muttered as Maauro ducked out. I moved to follow her then stopped looking at Olivia and Maximillian.
She gazed at me. “Go. I’ll watch the boy.”
“You sure?”
“Wrik I don’t think you could stop yourself from following her if you wanted to and you know what? You don’t want to.”
I decided not to answer her. For one thing, she was right.
Chapter 28
After several weeks of celebration and recovery, we lifted off for Confed space. Stardust was crowded: Elgee the Morok had recovered enough to travel, she and Fitaz, the Frokossi survivor of Bexlaw returned with us. The human, Tomas, remained with a girl he’d met on Seddon. We also carried Parisha, now an accredited Seddonese diplomat. Our last passenger was the wounded and silent Maximillian.
The Lost (The Maauro Chronicles Book 3) Page 26
