by M. J. Locke
“Sir…” Kam looked anxious. “The cable up to the surface is very high bandwidth. We may only have a few more minutes before it’s done copying itself. If I guess wrong—”
Moriarty laughed. “Look at it this way. If you guess wrong, we’re no worse off than if you make no guess at all.”
Kam gave the old guy a look like, you’ve got a point. Then he turned to study the Hub. He seemed to be tracing some power lines that ran from the spokeway lifts to the surface ones. Then he pointed at a small building on the far side of the surface lifts, inside a steel fence. “I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
“How are we going to get in?” Amaya asked. “It’s got all those warning signs and locks and things.”
“We’ll figure that out when we get there. Let’s move!”
But Geoff was looking at the lift-loading machines between here and there. They were decoupling from their dockings.
“Are they supposed to do that?” he asked.
Moriarty scowled. “It’s the feral.”
The machines, most of them, were gathering at the very place Kamal had just pointed out. There were over a hundred of them, with long grappling arms. A smaller group was headed toward them, spreading out as if to surround them.
“It’s on to us,” Amaya said.
“I believe you’re right. We’re not going to get past that many of them. So. Change of plans.” Moriarty spoke in a clipped voice. “We’ll attack on the exterior instead. Make for the maintenance exits near the assemblyworks.” He jerked his head toward the big vats against the bulkhead, about a hundred meters away, and handed Geoff and Amaya each a radio. “You two are buddies”—he pointed at Geoff and Kam—“and so are you two.” Ian and Amaya. “Stick with your buddy no matter what. Avoid the assemblyworks itself. It’s automated, and you might come under attack from the robotics there. Behind the vats is a maintenance area. Meet me by the dress-out lockers in one minute. If you get there first, grab suits, sticky-boots, and pony bottles and stay out of sight! Got it?”
They all nodded. This is all happening too fast, Geoff thought. He felt disoriented … disconnected from his body.
“Check your clocks. Maintenance in one minute. Go!”
Geoff launched himself upward and kicked off one of the big machines as it neared him, then a series of smaller ones that crossed his path, snatching at him, and scrambled into some nearby ropeworks. The machines couldn’t go in there; they were too big and would get tangled in the webbing. He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye: Kam was right behind him.
They two moved swiftly through the netting. Near one edge they paused to catch their breaths. Geoff saw they were already halfway there. Ian and Amaya had taken a different route and had almost reached the assemblyworks. Moriarty was nowhere to be seen. Some of the machines were moving below; they were definitely tracking them.
“I have an idea!” Kamal said. “Follow me.”
Kam launched himself at one of the machines—bounded off it, picking up its momentum—and went toward the assemblyworks. Geoff followed suit. They sprang down into the netting, and made their way over the vat racks as fast as they could. An acrid-sweet smell rose around them.
“Look!” Kam pointed. “Machines.”
The vats were made of some translucent material, and they could see the contents—the smelly, milky assembly-bug solution—churning inside. Machines moved between the vats, but their activities seemed innocuous.
“I think we’re OK. Hurry!”
Kam alighted on the floor behind the vats, in an area shielded from general view. Geoff alighted. Nearby he spotted a sign for the maintenance shop. Inside, they found Ian and Amaya pulling equipment from the maintenance lockers.
“Where’s Moriarty?”
“Here,” the old man said, entering. He shut the maintenance door behind him and locked it. He was out of breath, and his forehead had a deep gash. Blood dribbled down his face. He limped over and sat to pull off his shoes.
“What happened?”
“I ran afoul of the machines. I think the feral must recognize me as a particular threat. Maybe my conversation earlier with Jane. So, I took a loader out, and confirmed its suspicions.”
While Amaya and Ian lofted over to grab radios, lights, and tools, Geoff and Kamal pulled survival suits, sticky-boots, and pony bottles from the racks. They all rushed through assembly and checks, bumping around the room like billiards. Meanwhile, Moriarty talked.
“Any of you ever been in the Hollow before?”
They all shook their heads.
“OK. Out on the Hub, where the surface lists and the Klosti Alpha cable leave Zekeston, is a xaser mounted next to the surface lift tracks. That xaser beams the city’s network signals through a big conduit, up through the rock to the surface. We are going to take out the power source for that—or, if necessary, the xaser itself.
“Our threat is the fleet of maintenance ROVs out on the city’s hull. They’re big motherfuckers, and they have some features that can be used as pretty nasty weapons. But they aren’t very fast or smart. You all suited up? Good. With pony bottles to supplement air intake, we’ll have a good twenty minutes or more if we need it.”
“We’re going to ride our ponies?” Kam squeaked. “Out on the city hull? Fighting bad guys?”
“Ponies are all we need,” Moriarty replied. “Ponies will make us all a lot more agile, and if we can’t take out the transmission lines in the next ten to twelve minutes, it’ll be too late anyway. Besides which, there’s a little air out there. Your mask apparatus will make use of it to extend your pony’s life.”
“There’s air in the Hollow?” Ian repeated.
Amaya said, “No duh. What rock did you grow up on?” Ian made a face at her.
“Wait a minute,” Geoff said. “If there’s air, how come we need pony bottles, and how come everyone is always worried about the city getting decompressed?”
“Because Hollow pressure is only two hundred eighty millibars, and the temperature is minus ten. It won’t kill you right away, but you’ll be out of commission—spending all your time getting enough air to keep you alive, and not dying of hypothermia—or getting brained by one of the spin generators—before someone rescues your ass.”
Geoff asked, “How many machines are we up against?”
“Three dozen. Like I said, they’re big and powerful, but they move pretty slow. They’re stored in lockers near the Hub, and run on tracks on the hull. And if we’re lucky, they’ll be deployed elsewhere on the wheel.”
Ian slapped Geoff on the back. “Relax, doof. Just launch yourself into the Hollow, if you have to. We’ll reel you in if you spin wry.”
“Have y’all used sticky-boots before?” Sean asked. They all shook their heads. “They’re electrostatic grips. They work like lizard feet; they’ll give you good traction on any surface. Just make sure you put one foot down before lifting the other.”
Geoff slapped the latches closed on his boots and pulled on elbow-length gloves, then zipped up the suit. The edges of the gloves and boots sealed themselves to the suit cuffs. Amaya passed out utility harnesses and coils of rope. Moriarty was using a grease crayon to sketch the exterior onto the bulkhead.
“The Hollow’s major axis is only slightly bigger than the Rim. Out on the Rim, the city’s spinning at a hundred seventy klicks. We’ll be on the Hub where it’ll be spinning a lot slower, but you three may need to take the fight up the spokeways, to draw the machines away from Kam and me, so speak up now if you’re prone to motion sickness.”
No one spoke.
“Good. Here are your weapons.”
He handed them all what looked like guns with meter-long tubes and a dispenser nozzle on the end. Geoff recognized the tubes. Metal disassemblers. His dad worked with them out at the metal refinery. At the sight, an image of Carl sprang into Geoff’s mind, lying amid the wreckage of the disassembled warehouse with gaping wounds on his face and chest. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. He thought
he was about to toss.
His friends were looking at him.
“I’m OK,” he said. His heart pounded erratically. He took some deep breaths. Calm down, he told himself. Panicking won’t bring Carl back. Nothing will.
Moriarty was still speaking. “Don’t get any of that shit on you, or it won’t be long before you’re floating half naked in the Hollow without your wavegear.”
They tucked the disassembler dispensers into the pockets of their harnesses. Geoff hefted his disassembler gun, studying the settings. They seemed straightforward.
Moriarty handed three additional packs to Geoff, Ian, and Amaya. “Standard maintenance toolkit. But it has plenty of other things you can use as weapons to keep the machines busy.”
Ian poked around in his kit, and grinned. “Yep, we can do some serious damage with all this.”
“Remember, only spray downwind, or you’ll disable yourself and maybe your team mates, too.”
While they familiarized themselves with the contents of their packs, Moriarty turned back to Kam. “You and I, meanwhile, will be hauling this.” He dragged out a cart with welding tanks and gear. “The conduit and housing for the xaser and its power supply are made of buckyballs and these disassembler guns don’t work for shit on carbon. So you and I are going to have to use a cutting torch on the casing to get inside. From there we can wreak some havoc.” He showed Kam the workings, and made him set the knobs and light the welding torch, twice. “Good.
“Now, all of you, if you haven’t been out there, the wind is damn powerful, even at the Hub, due to the city’s spin. You’re all Upsiders so you don’t know much about wind, but let me just put it this way: it’s going to be hard for you to stay upright. Your sticky-boots will help, but also use your tethers. Just because the air is mighty thin out there doesn’t mean it can’t knock you down. Stay sharp. Hang on tight to your tools. Also keep in mind that the distance between the Hub and the Hollow wall is less than ten meters, and the spin generators take up a good meter of that. Don’t get cute—I don’t want to have to haul y’all back in body bags. Got that?”
Geoff and the others exchanged nervous glances. “Got it.” “Yeah.” “OK.”
“Amaya, give me one of those police radios. Geoff, set yours on frequency six point five. You three stay together, and keep the machines off us and each other. Geoff, you give me regular updates. Got that?”
“Got it!”
“Let’s move out.”
Geoff checked his watch. Barely five minutes had passed since they had been sitting in Tarts. He was scared numb. OK, Carl, maybe I’m about to join you in Never-Never Land.
They had to take turns at the lock. Moriarty went first with the big welding rig. Then Ian, Kam, and Amaya squeezed in. Geoff went last. The lock opened, he kicked off, and was expelled out onto the Hub in a puff of air.
Moriarty had not been joking about the wind—it buffeted and shrieked at him. He knocked his mask askew, flailing, and missed the handhold. The Hollow smelled of dust, iron, and ozone. Amaya and Ian grabbed his arms as he tumbled past. They pulled him down, and the grips in his boots grabbed the Hub’s surface.
He readjusted the mask, and flipped on his lights. The howling dark was itself an enemy: his headlights barely seemed to penetrate it. And it was cold—frost had already formed on the unprotected lower half of his face, and icy drafts seeped under his collar. He shivered. How were they going to fight in this?
They tethered themselves to each other, not to the bulkhead. Just like with ice slinging, they would need to be able to range afield. They did not want to be fixed to one point.
“Where are we?” Geoff asked.
“Halfway to the WeSuzee Spoke,” Amaya replied. “On the Hub flat. The lifts are those lights right there.”
Geoff squinted at where she pointed: a nearby set of lights crawled up the cable and entered the tunnel that led to Phocaea’s surface. It vanished from view. Near the base of that cable they could see two figures wrestling the welding cart into position: Kam’s diminutive figure and Moriarty’s bulky one.
Amaya squatted and pointed at a structure against the hull. “These must be the ROV tracks.”
Geoff bent over, too. “Yeah, and they’re laid in a gridwork all across the hull. This must be the power, here. See the warning symbol?”
Ian said, “So, no-touchy the big red stripe, and what’s underneath it. Got it.”
“Come on.” Geoff started crosswind toward the base of the buckyball cable. Walking in sticky-boots was cumbersome, a bit like walking through sand, and he had to lean over at what felt like a forty-five-degree angle to keep from being knocked over by the wind. He fiddled around till he found the right toggle, and brought up the livemap built into his mask. A golden, spidery, shining mesh appeared: a topographic overlay on the dim surroundings.
He clicked on a link Amaya sent him. Their destination appeared in sparkling green, straight ahead. “We’re nearing your position,” Geoff radioed, and Moriarty acknowledged.
Geoff looked overhead. Moriarty hadn’t been joking—the Hollow wall was only five meters away or so—so close he felt he could jump up and touch it. The rocky surface moved past at a brisk pace.
Suddenly they heard a terrible grinding, and felt a lurch underfoot. They swayed and struggled to keep their balance. Geoff could see on the overlay that the Hollow’s walls were slowing down. The feral must be reversing the polarity of the spin generators. The city was being decelerated. Here at the Hub, it was not such a big deal, but out at the Rim, the deceleration would be extreme. He, Ian, and Amaya exchanged frightened looks.
Geoff radioed the old man. “What do we do now?”
Moriarty replied, “We’ve still got our job to do. Stay focused. Keep back about ten meters from me and Kamal, so you have room to maneuver without getting boxed in. If the feral hasn’t figured out what we’re doing yet, it will when we start cutting.”
“Take your suits offline,” Kam warned. “You might get hacked.”
“Yikes! Good point.”
Geoff, Ian, and Amaya spent a couple of seconds trying to figure out how to shut off their suits’ wavespace connections, while fierce blue sparks from the welder lit up the Hollow, making Kam’s and Moriarty’s shadows stretch across the Hub and dance on the walls of the Hollow. Smoke swirled, genielike, in the eddying winds.
Amaya said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we can use a kite-catch formation on them.” Kite-catch was a three-biker method they sometimes used for netting ice. You tethered yourself to the corners of a net in a big triangle. Two bikers—the anchors—would stabilize two corners while the third—the throw—dragged the net across the ice’s trajectory. In this case, they’d be using three tethers. Two of them would loft the third up, who would mount the attack.
Geoff lifted a boot from the surface, and flailed, trying to regain his balance. “We’re going to be awfully slow in these—a hell of a lot slower than we are on our bikes.”
“True … but the machines aren’t so fast either,” Amaya said. “So the old man says. And the anchors can help the throw build up speed. Like a slingshot. Our big problem is, we’ll have to work around the lift cable. It’s going to get in our way.”
“I guess we can cut tether if we have to,” Geoff said thoughtfully, and Ian said, “I’m right there with you, Muffin.”
Amaya sighed, exasperated. She and Geoff exchanged a look. Geoff wasn’t sure if she was thinking It’s just how he is or I’m going to kill the fucker.
“Your idea,” Geoff told her. “You call the op.”
“All right. I’ll be our first throw,” Amaya said. “Geoff, you’re throw two. Ian, you’re three, and we cycle through as needed. Throw calls the target, as always. We’ll take turns strafing the machines till we’re out of bug juice, and then we’ll close in and use flares, or solvents, or whatever else we’ve got.”
“First let’s get the tracks,” Geoff said, and pulled his disassembler tube out of his belt. “They can’t stop Kam an
d the old man if they can’t reach them.”
“Let’s work out from one point, so we narrow their range of approach,” Ian suggested. “No—start upwind! We don’t want them coming at us from upwind—we’d have to fight the wind as well as the machines.”
The three of them hurried due upwind of Kam and Moriarty, and began spraying disassembler onto three of the T-shaped rails that led to the xaser station.
Geoff figured he had better wipe out a good two meters of track in case the machines could roll over the damaged portion. He laid a line of disassembler. It went on like toothpaste. The metal melted instantly in a cluster of metal blocks that spun away into the winds. Loud pops and sparks sprayed up from exposed circuits as the disassembler ate through the hidden power line beneath the T-shaped rail. He worried about the hull beneath it, but the bug juice seemed to stop at the surface.
He clumped past Amaya and Ian and began on his second rail. Amaya passed him, and next came Ian. He started to head for a third one. But they were out of time.
They heard the machines before they saw them. The bulkhead beneath their feet trembled. Thud! Clank! Along the rim of the Hub, maybe three hundred meters away, big rectangles rose up onto wheels and unfolded their arms—several cranelike appendages, with different, nasty-looking fixtures on them.
“Twelve o’clock! Three! Six! Nine!” Amaya called, marking the arms of an imaginary clock.
They had gotten six rails out of commission, out of twelve. That meant, he hoped, they only had to defend against an attack from between two o’clock and eight.
Amaya called her first target, gesturing. “Two-thirty!”
He spotted the nearest of the machines lumbering toward them. They were not as slow as he would have liked—they moved faster than a human could in the damn sticky-boots. Geoff, Ian, and Amaya spread out in a tethered triangle between the nearest machine and Kam and Moriarty. Metallic smoke blocked Geoff’s view as he crossed downwind of the welding apparatus.
