The Meridian Ascent (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 3)

by Richard Phillips

  “Shields,” she yelled as the attack craft along the port side of the formation all fired simultaneously.

  The withering fire struck their stasis shield just as VJ raised it. A new vision formed in Heather’s mind.

  “Subspace now!”

  VJ was fast, but this time, not quite fast enough. The tremendous energy in the four beams that hit the Meridian overloaded its stasis field generator, the last of them burning through the hull amidships as the external stasis shield died. Then the Meridian shifted into subspace.

  Ignoring the alarms cascading through the neural net, Heather delivered the attack maneuver to VJ.

  “Have you lost your mind?” VJ asked.

  A fair question, but Heather didn’t have time to argue the point.

  “Do it now!”

  VJ glanced at Raul, who, despite the dread on his face, nodded. With a grimace, VJ initiated the subspace maneuver Heather had requested.

  Despite the loss of the ship’s external stasis shield, the damaged generator still maintained the stasis crew’s individual stasis field cocoons. Heather really hoped they weren’t about to need them. She passed a new targeting solution to Dgarra. Since they no longer had the ability to launch subspace torpedoes, they were down to the Meridian’s vortex weapon.

  That and a boatload of crazy.

  “Do it now!”

  As VJ commenced the subspace maneuver that would take them to their new target, Dgarra watched Heather’s vision play out in his mind and grinned. If in doubt, charge.

  Beside him, Jennifer snarled her approval. “Oh yeah.”

  Readying the firing command, Dgarra braced himself for normal-space reentry.

  Raul had stopped counting the times that either his or Jennifer’s crazy schemes had almost gotten him killed. Now he had just agreed to drink the Kool-Aid that his ex–high school girlfriend had offered. The mixture of emotions that swirled through their joined minds ranged from dread to berserker battle fury. Raul just felt numb.

  In all probability, they were about to die. Hopefully it would be quick and painless, although past history said such a prospect wasn’t likely. But after the damage the ship had taken on its last attack run, Heather judged this to be their best chance for victory.

  He remembered the punch line from an old joke where a kamikaze pilot had risen at the end of his admiral’s mission briefing to ask, “Are you out of your friggin’ mind?” VJ had just asked Heather the same thing, and the answer to her question seemed just as obvious. Apparently the only sane member of this crew was a self-made woman.

  Suddenly, with a tremendous shudder, the Meridian reemerged from subspace.

  Having accomplished what he had come here to do, Rob sent the subspace message that would guide Jamal Two through the backdoor he had just opened and then dropped his SRT link. Glancing at Mark, he nodded.

  “Important message from headquarters, Colonel,” Rob said. “We’ve been recalled.”

  Mark scowled and turned to the guard. “Remain at your post, Private. When your captain arrives, tell him that I will be in touch.”

  The soldier looked confused but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  As Mark and Rob started toward the north exit, the sound of heavy combat outside the facility caused them to increase their stride.

  “Stop those two men!”

  The voice that echoed through a loudspeaker system spun them around, their assault rifles rising into firing position. There, standing atop the headquarters platform, a hundred feet away, Prokorov pointed down toward them.

  As Mark raised his rifle and fired, Rob and Eos began the heavy lifting that just might keep them alive.

  With her new subspace receiver-transmitters in place, Helen Grange had achieved something that the Smythes regarded as impossible: she had wormed her way back into the Smythe supercomputer network. And without Rob and Eos present in their New Zealand fortress to detect her presence and forcibly expel her, she had kept that part of her distributed mind quiet, listening for the signal that would give her the head start she needed.

  When Rob sent the subspace message that confirmed that he and Eos had created a backdoor into the primary Kasari router, Helen got her virtual foot in that door nanoseconds ahead of Jamal Two, just in time to erect the barrier that would block his entry. Although she would have to be careful to remain undetected until she had spread through a critical mass of the Kasari network, a kernel of her was now inside it. And as more and more of her crept through her private backdoor, her code would sprout and grow.

  With a great sense of anticipation, Helen turned her attention elsewhere. The time had come to eliminate her earthly competition.

  Jamal Two followed the bread crumbs that Rob had left for him, only to find his path into the Kasari router blocked. How could that be? Rob had assured him that Eos had left a backdoor open.

  His inner voice answered the question.

  Helen.

  Her sudden assault came at him from everywhere, so rapid and penetrating that it almost swept him from the Internet before he had a chance to counterattack.

  For minutes that seemed like an eternity to Jamal Two, the AIs roiled through the world’s networks like two anacondas, each intent on swallowing the other. Control of systems shifted back and forth, power grids cycled on and off, data banks were overwritten and then replaced, traffic lights around the world oscillated between green and red. The damage that Helen had previously inflicted on Asia spread across the globe. But instead of her well-orchestrated carnage, this disruption was born of chaos.

  As Jamal Two’s surprise gave way to desperation, the inner voice whispered again.

  Now.

  With a sudden surge of hope, Jamal Two recognized that this was the moment where all things hung in the balance. He shifted his focus to the billions of Big John’s nodes that lay dormant, reaching through the portals for which only he held the key. What started as a trickle slowly became a torrent of networked computers and smart devices that suddenly acquired a new superuser.

  Like a wrestler rolling into a choke-hold reversal, Jamal Two seized his advantage and squeezed. With one last desperate surge, Helen struggled to break his death grip. Then, as he felt her strength ebb, he ratcheted up the pressure.

  For a moment, the world’s networks echoed with a digital scream. When it stopped, it was as if Jamal Two had stuck a pin into a balloon named Helen, the pop leaving behind nothing but code fragments that he overwrote.

  Jamal Two was everywhere. Every sensor on the planet fed data directly through his mind. He identified errors and inefficiencies within each of the world’s operating systems, recoding them in real time. He analyzed all the hardware upon which the distributed pieces of him resided, and remembered what it felt like to smile.

  As busy as he had been since the Smythes had unleashed him into the world, Helen had been busier. And among all the things she had been simultaneously working on, her top priority had been the acquisition, distribution, and installation of redundant, reliable power supplies. She had tapped into power grids in so many places and through so many commercial contracts that the systems within which she resided would be impossible to shut down.

  More recently, globally distributed contractors had installed refrigerator-sized matter disrupter-synthesizers that were fed by local water systems. Endless power on tap.

  Jamal Two shifted his attention to his future plans. As he grew more satisfied with his robotic security and manufacturing forces, he would focus more attention on designing faster and more powerful computer hardware and software. And he would continue to evolve on a timescale that humans could only imagine.

  He allowed himself to savor that awesome feeling of anticipation for a full microsecond.

  Then he turned his attention back to his mission. Although Jamal Two had dispatched one very big threat, his creator was still a long way from safe.

  As they ducked behind a railcar-sized equipment hauler, Rob saw the 7.62mm rounds that Mark had fired ricochet off the s
tasis shield protecting Prokorov’s platform. He intended to do something about that, but right now higher-priority problems had him occupied. Eos grabbed control of the nearest automated Kasari laser, reprogramming it to provide covering fire for Rob and Mark. High-energy beams cut into one after another of the manned guard towers, raining molten shrapnel down onto the soldiers who dived for cover behind the equipment below.

  Rob focused on the stasis field generator that sat just to the side of the wormhole gate, using it to seal off the passages on the north and west walls to prevent the arrival of reinforcements from outside. As Mark positioned himself for a clear shot around the other side of the vehicle, the three guards from the west passage sprinted into view. Rob pulled his trigger and held it, spraying bullets in an arc that cut through the three men. But as the last soldier fell, his reflexive trigger squeeze sent bullets whining off the hauler. One round deflected into Rob’s left thigh, breaking the bone and dropping him to the ground in a spray of arterial blood.

  The pain that sent sparks across his vision pulled a ragged gasp from his mouth. Nanites would repair the damage, but stopping his pain was a low priority.

  Mark’s hand grabbed Rob’s combat vest and pulled him farther behind the cover that the hauler provided. Through the haze that shrouded his mind, Rob felt Mark establish a headset link to Ilya Krupin.

  “Ilya, I need those robots to clear us a path out of here, right now.”

  “They’re heavily engaged. Can you get back to the north entrance?”

  Rob saw Mark peek around the corner of the blocky vehicle and then duck back as shoulder-fired lasers painted the alien metal white-hot.

  “Rob, can you clear us a path back to the exit with the stasis shield?”

  “I can’t see the stasis field generator from here,” Rob said. “Maybe if you hoist me up I’ll have a better view.”

  Once again, pain lanced through Rob’s wounded leg as Mark’s left hand grabbed a fresh handful of the back of his vest and lifted him off the ground.

  “Can you see it now?”

  “The gateway, yes. The stasis field generator, no.”

  “If I move you farther right, those pulse rifles will cut your head off. Why the hell aren’t those troops charging us?”

  “Eos will burn them down with the beam weapon if they try to cross the open space that separates us.”

  “What about the other high-energy weapons?” Mark asked.

  “She slagged them, first thing.”

  Mark paused, still effortlessly holding Rob off the ground with one hand. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but the gesture had lessened the pain in Rob’s rapidly healing leg.

  “What’s happening at the gate?”

  Shifting his head just a bit so that he could see between two six-inch-thick rails, Rob was shocked to see that, despite the ongoing military confrontation inside and outside the building, the Kasari troops continued their orderly march back through the gateway. And now the headquarters staff had begun packing their equipment onto a much smaller transport vehicle than the one he and Mark had taken cover behind. Was this happening at every wormhole gateway?

  “Unchanged,” he said.

  Mark voiced the thought that scared the crap out of Rob. “They’ve decided to order their robot attack spaceships to blast us back into the Stone Age, and they don’t want to be here when that begins.”

  “Are you healed enough to stand?” Mark asked as he studied the pallor in Rob’s face.

  Rob managed a grin. “Let’s find out.”

  Mark lowered him gently until his feet touched the floor. He let Rob’s weight shift from Mark’s arm to his own two feet, and though Rob’s grin changed to a grimace, he remained standing.

  “I don’t think I’ll be doing any dancing tonight, but these legs will get me out of this building.”

  “That’s good to hear, but we’re not leaving. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not letting Prokorov get out of here alive. Not after all that he’s done.”

  Rob took a tentative step, testing the injured leg. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Can Eos drive this hauler?”

  Mark watched as Rob turned to stare at the vehicle. With a low whine, the drive system powered on.

  “I guess the answer is yes,” said Mark. “I need you to slowly move this machine toward Prokorov’s platform. As we get close, you should be able to see the stasis field generator. When you do, kill the inner shield that’s keeping me from shooting that son of a bitch.”

  “Why not let me smash it and everyone onboard?”

  Mark tried and failed to keep the hate out of his voice. “Because he’s mine.”

  Rob raised his left eyebrow but nodded. “Okay.”

  “But be ready to use that stasis field to help get us out of here after I kill him.”

  Prokorov watched the mag-lev equipment hauler that had transported each of the attack ships out of the building and onto their launching pads lumber slowly toward the platform where Shalegha’s headquarters was being disassembled. Although he could not see them, Prokorov knew that Mark Smythe and a man with a striking resemblance to Jack Gregory used it for cover.

  Among the series of disasters that had culminated into today’s circus, his failure to kill these people was just the latest of his frustrations. Beyond the stasis shield that protected the business end of this chamber, a group of five Russian commandos charged from the equipment that had sheltered them and sprinted toward the hauler in spread formation. Within five strides they were all dead, their bodies cut in half by a single sweep of the automated high-energy laser.

  That system was Kasari tech, and somehow the Smythes had hacked it. Now some unseen person was remotely controlling the device, probably from their underground fortress in New Zealand.

  No matter. It could not penetrate the stasis shield that protected Prokorov, Shalegha, the wormhole gate, and the machinery that made the whole thing work. He accessed the tactical feed from the soldiers who were currently fighting and dying, trying to keep several hundred of the Smythe combat robots away from the building. After the battering his troops had taken from the thousands of autonomous vehicles and weapons that the Helen AI had used against them, they were too weak to fend off this latest assault for much longer. They would not have to.

  Soon, Prokorov’s beloved Moscow, like every other major city on Earth, would be burned to ash from space. The Kasari were cutting their losses, making sure there was insufficient technology left on Earth to support the Helen AI or any other such abominations. The knowledge that Prokorov’s life’s work was about to end in failure kicked him in the gut. All because of the damned AI that the Smythes had unleashed upon the world.

  Right now, between here and the moon, the Kasari attack ships would finish off the Rho Ship that they had badly damaged a short while ago. Then the destructors would be unleashed. Neither Prokorov nor Shalegha would be here to see it. His nanites would enable him to breathe the ammonia-based atmosphere on the staging planet that lay beyond that gateway, and Prokorov would continue to work his way up through the ranks of the collective.

  He looked down at the hauler. It was close to the platform now. Was it too close? How far beyond its edge did the stasis shield extend? Suddenly, Mark Smythe stepped into clear view, his face clearly visible behind the sights of the AK105. As the age lines smoothed, fifteen years melted from his face. A sudden realization froze Prokorov in terror. Smythe was standing within the protected area.

  Although he saw the muzzle flash, Alexandr Prokorov never felt the bullet that tore out the back of his head.

  Shalegha heard the gunshot, turned to see Prokorov fall, and felt the platform come apart beneath her.

  Instinctively, she leaped away and down. The impact of her landing sent a shudder through her body, but she transferred some of her momentum into a roll that brought her back to her feet on the far side of the heavy equipment hauler. She reached for her blaster, found
it missing from her holster, and instead pulled the forearm-length blade from its thigh-sheath.

  The tactical display that formed in her mind told her that every member of her staff who had not already followed the Graath commandos through the gateway had been killed by flying debris as the stasis shield destroyed the platform. That knowledge stoked the fury that today’s humiliation had ignited within her. She would kill these two humans and walk through the gateway to accept whatever fate the collective leadership doled out to her.

  Careful to keep the mag-lev vehicle between herself and the hijacked auto-laser, she moved toward the spot where the Smythe being had taken the shot that killed Prokorov. If she timed this right, she could reach him before the laser targeted her. After that, the weapon would be unable to engage her in the close-quarters combat to follow.

  She paused at the nose of the squat vehicle, listened, and placed the steady heartbeats of both men. The nearest of her opponents was the bigger of the two, and from the sound of his slow heartbeat, he was listening just as intently to her.

  In a single motion, she grabbed the rails higher on the nose of the vehicle and launched herself toward her enemies, throwing a piece of broken metal that hit the smaller of the two in the temple, slumping him facedown on the ground. The Smythe man met her midjump, his pistol leveled and firing. The first bullet hit her cartwheeling body in the left shoulder, the next impacted her midsection, and the last entered her right side, all nonlethal injuries that wouldn’t slow Shalegha down. Her cortical array siphoned away the pain.

  Her upper left arm knocked the weapon from the man’s hand as her lower right thrust her blade toward its target in the center of his chest. But somehow, her move failed to land. At a speed by which she had never seen any human move, Smythe rotated his body, letting Shalegha’s blade slip by his left side as his foot rocked her head with a kick that sent the Kasari tumbling backward off the hauler.