by Isaac Hooke
“Ain’t no better way to get to know someone than by fighting at his side!” Slate chimed in.
“Yeah, that’s right, throw out the overused platitudes like they mean something,” Eagleeye said.
“Hey bitch, it’s true,” Slate said.
“I just can’t help but think, there were so many things we could have done together,” Traps said. “While the world was still free. Before… this happened.”
“The world will be free again, mate,” Dunnigan said. “We’re not going to let the Banthar win.”
“Maybe,” Traps said.
“We hung out plenty,” Slate said. “What are you talking about? We lived in the same apartment complex for the past twenty years. I saw your ugly face almost daily.”
“Sure, you saw my face, but we never really hung out all that often,” Traps said.
“Like hell we didn’t,” Slate said. “I remember cruising for bitches with you along Bright Avenue. And then there was the trip to Miami Beach. Surfboards in hand, hitting up bitches all along the beachfront. You, me, Eagleeye. Fun times.”
“Yeah, but my point still stands: we didn’t do it often enough,” Traps said.
“No, you’re wrong,” Eric said. “We did hang out a lot, at first. But there are only so many stories that we could tell. Only so many reminiscences we could exchange, and patterns of behavior we could endure, before everything started to get old. We have AI memories. We don’t forget. How many times have you heard the same dick jokes from Slate?”
“Hey!” Slate said. “I never tell dick jokes.”
“You do,” Eagleeye said.
“Or heard Mickey whining about how we all cheated during a VR battle,” Eric said. “My point is, we know each other too well. Or at least, we did. And that’s why we stopped hanging out.”
“Well, it was a mistake,” Traps said. “We should have continued to visit one another as often as we could. We didn’t have to keep telling our stories. We could have just enjoyed each other’s presence.” His avatar shook his head. “So many lost opportunities. So much lost time. We lived our lives separately, like I did when I was human.”
“Uh-oh, here it comes,” Brontosaurus said. “Emotional breakdown time.”
“When I was human, I was never really alive,” Traps continued. “I was… well, essentially a walking zombie. After I did my term in the army, I essentially holed up with my family. But it was like I wasn’t even there. I spent most of my days in VR, reliving old battles with my buddies. Every day. Even when the goggles were off, I relived those battles. My wife stayed with me, I don’t know why. Maybe for the sake of the kids. I finally clocked out when I was hit by a falling delivery drone. At least, that’s what my death records stated. Good thing I paid for a cryofreeze.”
“Dude, you were killed by a falling delivery drone?” Slate said. He burst out in laughter. “Who dies that way?”
“Drones have had built in failsafes for a long time,” Bambi said. “As soon as a motor begins to fail, power to the other motors increases so that the drone can change course to avoid hitting any people below. Plus, they have parachutes and inflatable cushions in case those systems fail.”
“Yeah, well, a catastrophic systems failure occurred,” Traps said. “Because you see, two delivery drones collided in midair, and then dropped like rocks. I happened to walking by underneath.”
Slate chuckled. “What a way to go. But hey, if they smashed into you from above, there couldn’t have been much left of your head to freeze.”
“There was enough, apparently,” Traps said. “I managed to find some footage of the incident after I woke up as an AI. Wasn’t pretty, but definitely workable.”
“When this is over, maybe we should make some kind of pact,” Mickey said. “A promise to hang out more in the days to come. We don’t have to talk, and listen to stories that we’ve exchanged a hundred times, but just do things with each other. Like brothers and sisters who’ve been through hell and back are supposed to do.”
“I think we should make that pact right now,” Traps said. “A blood oath. In fact, I’ll start it. I swear to you, my brothers and sisters, that when this is through, I won’t abandon you again. I’ll be there for you, through thick and thin. We’ll have dinner every night, and—”
“Shit man, I ain’t having dinner every night with you,” Slate said. “I hate opening up the belly of my android to dump out the unnecessary food afterward.”
“Dinner every other night,” Traps corrected.
Eric interpreted Slate’s silence as acquiesce.
As did Traps, apparently, because he continued: “And during dinner, we’ll talk about our day. We’ll talk about our hopes for the future. We’ll talk about what keeps us awake at night. What scares us. We’ll… be there.”
“Deal,” Brontosaurus said.
“Everyone else who’s in, say aye,” Traps said.
A chorus of ayes filled the comm line. Only Manticore remained silent.
“You won’t join us, Manticore?” Traps asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Manticore replied. “I’ve sworn to hunt you down, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I guess I hoped you’d change your mind,” Traps said. “Everyone else, thank you. I look forward to renewing our friendship when this is over.”
“As do I,” Slate said. “And I also look forward to slapping Manticore’s ass down Bright Avenue. We’ll knock some sense into you bro.”
“You won’t,” Manticore said.
“Well that’s fine,” Slate said. “Real fine. If we don’t, then we’ll just end you.”
“You can certainly try,” Manticore said.
“Just as you can try to end us,” Slate told him.
“Can we not talk about killing each other for the time being?” Dickson said. “We’re allies, at least for now. Let’s act like it.”
“Sorry, boss,” Slate said.
Manticore offered no such apology.
Eric knew that things weren’t going to be very pretty when the time came for them to turn on Manticore.
7
Eric and the others snuck by two companies of human troops on the way to Bambi’s position—the first a series of tanks that were moving into position, the second mechs that waited in a staging area in front of a courthouse. Eric had attempted to make contact with human units a few times, but so far the only response he ever got was plasma fire—they thought his comm attempt was a deception. He planned to make a more serious effort to approach the humans when the rest of the Bolt Eaters were rescued. He still wasn’t sure how he would make them believe his intentions were good, however. He’d probably have to intervene somewhere on the front lines, rescuing a company from certain doom. But that was for another time.
Along the way to Bambi and Marlborough, he and the Bolt Eaters also avoided human gunships, alien airships, and patrolling clouds of termites.
Finally, after an hour, the two teams had reached the buildings overlooking Bambi’s latest position. She was on a rooftop with other Crab units and Devastators, fighting against human drones that were equipped with plasma cannons. A few termites dotted the area, slowly converting the drones; Bambi was distracting the aircraft to give the termites time to finish the process. On an adjacent rooftop, Marlborough was similarly distracting another platoon of human drones.
Eric and the others spread out into even smaller teams.
Frogger and Traps were part of Eric’s group, and joined him as he closed the gap with Bambi. The three of them were on a rooftop next to hers, and kept low, out of her line of sight. Other teams of Bolt Eaters lined the adjacent rooftops, ready to intercept Bambi and keep her occupied while Manticore’s scouts closed to ensnare her. Brontosaurus was in charge of two other teams that would similarly occupy Marlborough.
Eric approached the edge of the rooftop at a low crawl, and lifted the energy cannon the Essential had conveniently installed in his right arm, above the alien blades. He held the cannon over the wall that b
ordered the perimeter of the building. He switched to the point of view of the weapon’s scope and aligned the crosshairs with Bambi’s center of mass. He didn’t actually intend to fire an energy bolt—her force field would protect her. But, he was using the crosshairs to line up his forearm for a spear launch, since there was no scope installed for the blades. Because the scope was designed for the energy cannon, not the blades embedded in his forearm, he had Dee offset the crosshairs to compensate, using data collected earlier when he had practiced firing on a wall to get the alignment just right.
It was expected that Bambi would notice the shots and attempt to dodge, which was why Frogger and Traps would also release their spears on either side. The other team would launch spears above her, in case she decided to jumpjet away, so that no matter the direction Bambi attempted to flee, she would run into a spear.
The impact from the alien weapon would penetrate both her energy shield and the underlying armor of her mech, causing a voltage surge that would burn out her power coupler. The latter was something Manticore could repair in about half an hour after deleting the Essential from her AI core. There was a small chance the spear would strike her AI core as she attempted to avoid the projectile, but Eric doubted it would come to that—Bambi was far too nimble to allow such an impact. At least, he hoped she was. He was sure that given the choice between a rescue attempt with a small risk of death and lifelong slavery, she would have chosen the rescue attempt.
Eric switched to Bullet Time.
“Prepare to fire,” Dickson said. Everyone on the comm line would receive his current timebase as part of the communications packet, and their own systems would instantaneously adjust their time senses to match.
“Fire,” Dickson said.
Eric launched the spear.
Beside him, Frogger and Traps also released the alien blades. Other spears came in from the sides of the building that harbored Bambi.
As expected, Bambi noticed the incoming bolts on her rear view camera feed, because she reacted almost immediately after Eric released the spear.
She didn’t leap away like he had expected, however. Instead, she deftly turned her body to the side and, like a ballerina, danced between the spears, squeezing her body between the deadly paths of the weapons. One of the blades struck her energy shield, and disabled it; but she managed to swing her body out of the way so that the tip didn’t touch her.
“Damn, she’s good,” Traps said.
“That’s my girl…” Eric amped up his time sense slightly and retreated from the edge of the building; then he sprinted toward the wall, and took a running leap off the rooftop. He could have easily crossed to the adjacent building with that jump, but that would have put him directly in the path of incoming spears launched by the remaining Crabs and Devastators on the rooftop, not to mention from Bambi herself.
Instead, as he vaulted over the wall, he arced downward and out of view; he landed on the building three stories from the top, and began to climb. Frogger and Traps landed beside him. Meanwhile, the other team offered covering fire.
He scrambled upward as fast as he was able, alternately smashing through windows for purchase, and activating his magnetic mounts to attach to the beams situated between the glass.
He reached the wall at the top of the rooftop and thrust an arm over to survey the area; Bambi was fleeing toward the far side, surrounded by the Crabs and Devastators with her. He glanced toward Marlborough’s rooftop, but couldn’t see him from his current location—he’d have to trust that Brontosaurus and the other Bolt Eater teams would handle him.
Eric pulled himself over the rooftop and swiveled his ballistic shield into place as he landed—he hoped to use it to deflect any alien spears that the enemy might throw his way. A glancing blow could be deflected, but a head-on hit would penetrate the shield, and he’d have to discard it before the electricity spread to his main unit.
Eric rushed toward the fleeing mechs. Frogger and Traps were at his side.
The enemy units launched plasma and energy bolts his way, and his force field absorbed the blows. When the tangos began to throw alien spears, Eric disabled his energy shield, not wanting it to be drained. He dodged those airborne blades, knocking a few of them aside with his ballistic shield as planned—glancing blows, of course.
Four of the Devastators and two Crab units remained behind to cover Bambi’s escape, while the remaining units leaped over the far side of the building. Meanwhile, overhead, the surviving human drones rained plasma bolts down on both parties. The termites that were up there didn’t bother to attack Eric or the others—they utilized some cloud learning algorithm, and by now they knew the emitters aboard the Bolt Eaters would repel them. The aliens would probably make some modifications to their micro machines at some point to circumvent that, but for now the technology kept the termites at bay.
Eric spotted the other team of Bolt Eaters leaving their cover upon the adjacent buildings to intercept Bambi and her escort. But he didn’t have too much time to consider them, as in seconds he ran into the opposing mechs.
He only had a single alien blade embedded in his forearm at the moment, and he swung it downward like a sword, biting into the ballistic shield of the Devastator in front of him.
He received a transmission.
“Please don’t kill me,” Brontosaurus voice came over the comm. There was no avatar, since he wasn’t communicating on the private encrypted comm line.
Eric faltered. The mech contained a duplicate of Brontosaurus’ AI core.
That hesitation on Eric’s part nearly cost him his life.
The Devastator discarded the shield and twisted Eric’s arm in the process, as his blade was still embedded in the metal. The mech in turn stabbed its own blades toward Eric’s chest assembly.
Eric swiveled to the side, and narrowly avoiding those blades; he bashed upward with his ballistic shield, knocking the arm upward and out of the way, and then turned his torso to plunge his blade deep into the mech’s armor.
Electricity sparked up and down the impact site, and the mech froze, dropping like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Eric turned toward one of the Crab units next, and narrowly dove to the side as that barbed tail came crashing down on him. It struck the wreckage of the Devastator, and lifted it in the air, flinging it at him.
Eric was hit by the lifeless body and hurled to the far side of the rooftop, striking the bordering wall.
The Crab leaped, firing its jumpjets, and arced down toward him. Eric held up his spear arm, intending to impale the unit, but the Crab swerved sideways, courtesy of its lateral jets. It landed beside him, flinging its tail down toward him once more, forcing Eric to dodge.
Holding his spear before him, he slid underneath those legs, and the weapon drained the unit’s energy shield. Eric stabbed upward, and the spear tip contacted; the unit collapsed around him as the electricity crawled over its exterior.
Eric waited the few seconds for the current to run its course, pulled his blade free, and then dragged himself from under the heavy body. At the far side of the roof, Frogger and Traps were still engaged with the remaining four mechs—three Devastators and one Crab.
Frogger took down a Devastator as Eric watched, while Traps seemed on the verge of eliminating the Crab. Traps had landed on the carapace and was about to stab his spear into the torso region, when that tail swung at his body.
“Traps, look out!” Eric said.
But it was too late, and the tail struck Traps. His body convulsed as the three alien prongs in the tail caused electricity to spark up and down his hull. The Crab casually flung Traps away, and another Devastator stabbed its spear down into his chest assembly.
Where the AI core was located.
“No!” Eric rushed the Devastator.
He fired his energy cannon at the same time, and the Devastator’s alien force field kicked in. Eric hurled himself at the mech, stabbing his spear into the energy shield, and then the ballistic shield underne
ath. The mech discarded the shield, but Eric was already sliding his spear free, and swiped it at the Devastator. The mech dodged to the side.
“It’s me!” Traps’ voice came over the comm.
“No,” Eric said. “You’re just a duplicate.” He stabbed his spear forward, but again the Devastator sidestepped. This time it swung down with its own arm, forcing Eric’s hand downward. Then it followed up by stabbing its own alien blades toward Eric, forcing him to swivel out of the way.
The Crab launched a spear at Eric from its tail, and he amped up his Bullet Time to dance out of the way. He grabbed the Devastator from behind as the tail swung downward, and held the body in front of him as the remaining two spears in the tail struck. The mech convulsed as electrical bolts shot up and down its body. Eric released the Devastator before the current could jump onto him and sidestepped away, slamming his blade down into the tail before the Crab could remove it from the wreckage. The Crab spasmed in turn before collapsing.
Eric turned toward the remaining Devastator, but Frogger was just putting it out of its misery.
Eric rushed to Traps and held his crumpled form in his arms.
Frogger knelt beside him and opened up the cockpit. He examined the Cicada that was curled into a ball within, and then looked up. When Frogger’s avatar appeared on Eric’s HUD, his expression was grim.
“The AI core is destroyed,” Frogger said.
“We got her,” Dickson announced. “Manticore has her wrapped up tight, and we’re conveying her away from the front lines. Got some random Devastators pursuing, but we should be able to lose them in the streets.”
“We got Marlborough as well,” Brontosaurus said. “A few pursuers are also tailing, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“You guys all right?” Tread asked.
“No,” Eric said. “Traps is… gone.”
8
Eric carried the body of Traps back to the fallback site, an alleyway four blocks from the front line.
