Neither robot mattered though, not with her Holy Grail in front of her: a seed pod of the Race. Power coursed through her veins like fire, lifting her up and energizing her purpose. She must protect the Race. Three of the empty robots had reached the pod—one was laying a metallic claw on its skin.
Vic saw red, her hair waving and crackling with the excess energy discharge. They were attacking the seed pod! Shutting repairs down to the bare minimum to retain functionality, she reached deep down with her brain and pushed. Inhuman energies warred within her system, setting off an anti-matter driven force lance that burst from her palm to turn the three empty robots into fireballs.
Shaking as her hand and arm knitted back together, Vic ran for the seed pod. Her entire purpose lay within that alloy shell: she had to protect the Race!
Seconds later she laid her hand on the cold alloy of the pod. The moment she touched it she felt another rush of power and purpose. New thoughts and images rushed up her fingers to her brain, an overwhelming rush of sights and sounds. Instantaneously she found herself connected to both the seed pod’s power and memory cores. Data and directives flooded her mind, how to wipe the existing pathogen from the planet and prepare it for the Race.
Six bullets hammered into her chest, slamming Vic against the pod wall. Without conscious thought she pulled power from the pod’s core to repair her body before turning her attention to her attackers. Almost negligently she waved her hand and the robots on both sides exploded, sending waves of fire across the battlefield. At that point any semblance of military order on either side disappeared.
Both Soviet and Japanese formations, as the human part of her mind called them, crumbled into a joint mob. Soldiers fled every which way, seeking nothing more than escape from the conflagration. Maintaining her connection to the pod, Vic took a moment to survey the field.
Four humans hid near an earthen berm a hundred yards away but out of the fighting. Not sensing a danger to the Race, she ignored them. A noise from the gate also caught her attention, as a local internal combustion vehicle careered into the compound. Defense protocols spiked, then dropped as she identified the driver as having a connection to the Race.
Leaving a small portion of her attention directed outward, Vic sank the rest into the pod’s memory banks. There was so much to do and she was already almost twenty years behind schedule. Cut off from the infinite energies of deep space, the pod’s power levels were approaching critical lows. There was already a non-zero chance that it might not be able to complete the planetary transformation.
Thrusting her doubts aside, Vic brought up the plan. The basics were simple; this planet was just too hot for the Race. Only Antarctica was really comfortable, and even it had problems. She double-checked the power reserves; yes, they were high enough if only just. The first step was to trigger worldwide volcanoes and earthquakes to get enough dust in the air to stop heat from getting in. Then seed the clouds with high albedo compounds to drop the temperatures further. Once the temperature was cold enough she could activate the seed banks and let the Race out.
The planet was doomed, but before it died it would give birth to a dozen seedships to help spread the Race through this galaxy. Vic plunged her arms into the pod, and then closed her eyes to meet her destiny.
#
Doc's eyes went wide as Vic blasted her way to the Tralthan pod. This was not the Vic he knew; this was a rampaging force of nature. Ming gasped as a Japanese volley caught Vic across the torso, smashing her body against the pod. Doc forced himself to watch as she ended the battle with a wave of her hand.
All distinction between the Soviets and Japanese vanished as both sets of combatants turned into a single mob as every war machine on either side went up in flames.
Vic looked like nothing so much as a Slavic war goddess, and Doc had to remind himself that she was no more human than the myths she resembled. Vic was gone, and he was going to have to destroy her body before she ended the world. Doc sighed; now he had to convince Ming that what he was doing was the only answer.
Just then, a ZIS-5 truck careered through the broken gate at almost 40 miles an hour, and headed straight for the pod. Whoever was driving was clearly inexperienced, but they weren't sparing the horses. From the howl of the engine, it was running flat out under the lead foot of someone who didn’t believe in brakes. For a moment, Doc was afraid it was about to hit the pod but the driver somehow pulled it aside at the last minute. The truck swerved to a stop less than ten yards from Vic, bouncing on its overworked suspension.
No sooner had the truck come to a full stop than people started leaping out of the back. Ming took one look at the people getting off the truck and started running. The passengers all had the half-starved look of newly freed prisoners.
“Ming?” Tigress followed her daughter, stumbling over a shell hole. Gilly reached out just in time to stop her from falling. Tigress took his arm, and the two of them followed after Ming.
Doc took a moment to assess the situation and then headed for the pod. If he could snap Vic’s neck before she realized he was there maybe he could disrupt the AI long enough to detonate the pod. Seconds later, the driver slipped out of the cab and came around the nose of the truck, almost running into Doc as she ran towards Vic. She had almost reached the pod when she was stopped by an attack of coughing. Doc reached out to steady her, and was surprised to see Vic’s eyes staring out of her face.
“Are you going to save my daughter? Can you save my Viktoriya?” the woman asked in Russian, tears running down her cheeks. “She saved me, can you save her?”
Doc swallowed, seeing the resemblance to Vic in her features. Her pupils were enlarged and her pulse hammered in her throat “I can’t; she’s already dead.”
“What?” The frail looking woman jumped on Doc, hammering his chest with surprising strength. “My daughter is not dead! She’s right there! Viktoriya said you were like her brother but family does not abandon family”
Doc caught Vic’s mother by the wrists, holding her at a safe distance so she wouldn’t hit him again. She wriggled like a snake, struggling so much Doc was afraid she was going to break her own wrists. “I’m sorry, but your daughter is gone. Vic’s no longer there, killing her body will be a mercy. She has been consumed by the pod from the inside, like a house riddled with termites. I have to stop them before they destroy the Earth.”
Ming popped out of nowhere beside the woman. “Gilly and Tigress can look after the others for a moment; I need to check out the driver. We also need to get these people under cover somewhere.”
With Doc’s attention diverted towards Ming, Vic’s mother spat in his face. “Termites destroy the Earth? You are not family! You are not even friend! My Viktoriya deserves better than you! Is this Ming? Maybe she can show you family!”
“What is she saying?” Ming asked. “I can’t follow her Russian; is she talking about me?”
Vic’s mother stopped struggling so hard, and tried to twist towards Ming. “You Ming?” she asked in rusty English. “My Viktoriya say she love Ming.”
“Your Viktoriya?” Ming seemed to struggle with the pronunciation.
“My Viktoriya, my daughter. She say she love Ming. Doctor; good woman.”
“That’s me,” Ming replied slowly; looking like she had seen a ghost.
“This man say she already dead, that he kill her body to save the Earth.”
“What?” Ming spun to face Doc, pushing her face into his. “What did you tell this woman? Can’t you tell she’s on the edge of shock? And you call yourself a Doctor.”
“I know she’s on the edge of shock.” Doc took a deep breath. “I was trying to tell her Vic is already dead. Her body’s been taken over by a Tralthan Guardian AI and she’s trying to destroy the planet. I have to kill her body to save the Earth.”
“You will do no such thing!” Ming slapped him across the face, hard enough to raise a welt. “I’m not going to let you give up on Vic. She’s never given up on you and I’m not going to
let you give up on her.”
“What she say!” Vic’s mother said, putting her weight behind Ming’s. “I beg you, save my daughter.”
Doc rocked back; for once he was at a loss for words. Archonate doctrine on the Tralthans was simple: burn out the infestation before it could spread. There was no middle ground. He could reach out and snap Vic’s neck in a heartbeat; decapitating her so fast that not even the Tralthans could repair the damage.
He met Ming’s eyes, seeing the fire of her emotions in her gaze. He could kill Vic, but it would destroy Ming, and when they got back it would probably destroy his relationships with the rest of the team. Gus might see the logic, but with Kehla’s history of leading forlorn hopes when her people were in trouble she wouldn’t.
“There has to be something we can do,” Ming pleaded. “We can’t just abandon her. It’s Vic!”
Doc took another look at Vic, who was still linked into the pod; she didn’t appear to have noticed them. Maybe there was still time. A rattle of gunfire from the darkness reminded him that the pod wasn’t the only problem they had.
“Okay, I have an idea.” It wasn’t much of a chance, but it might work.
Doc let go of Vic’s mother’s arms, and then reached out and took both women’s hands in his. “We know Vic is connected to the pod—so it’s already set up to interface with human nervous systems. If you put your hands on the pod, you should be able to connect to the AI and through that to Vic. It’s a long shot, but if there’s anything of her left, it’s your only chance.”
Ming nodded and reached out for the skin of the seed pod. “So we just put our hands on the surface of this thing? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, but do it together. It will probably recognize Vic’s mother because she shares the same genes. With any luck, you can piggyback in with her.”
Without a word, the two women looked at each other, and then clasped hands. Seconds later, they plunged their arms elbow deep into the pod as if its skin was made of water. Outside the fence, the guns fell silent for a moment replaced by a massed chorus:
“Banzai!”
#
“Vic?” The small soft voice came faintly to her ears, drawing a fraction of her attention away from her calculations as she moved through a void filled only by cascading numbers. She dismissed the distraction; setting off a single volcano or earthquake was easy. Igniting this planet’s ring of fire simultaneously was not. The image of cities drowning under hundred foot waves flashed across her mind for a second, only to be replaced by that of the Race streaming out of her metal shell.
The mind that had once been Vic’s turned her, it’s, attention back to the work although a sliver listened for the voice. Data toroids spun in the darkness, reminding her of the Home Hives of the Race. Her purpose here was to guard the Race so that it could turn this planet to its use. Deep memories surfaced, trickling outward from the central toroids where they had laid for millions of years. The Race spreading from world to world, wiping the stain of lesser races from the cosmos.
Even this planet had been specifically targeted as being a potential threat to the race millions of years ago.
“Vic, are you there?” This time she, no it, no she, heard two voices blended together, coming from the outer rim of the data stream. They sounded wrong; no not just wrong, they sounded vertical—coming at right angles to the normal data flows.
She whirled toward the source of the voices, extending her senses. She was the guardian; she must protect the Race.
Two pale figures rose out of the blackness, one topped in black and the other in red. Alien data streams raced up and down their outlines, cutting across the normal flows and whorls of information. Drawn by the danger to the Race, she spun forwards aggressively.
The two figures separated, extending limbs towards her.
“Come back to me Vic, come back to us,” the dark-topped one said, the words lancing into her heart. “I love you.”
“I just got you back Viktoriya, come back, please come back,” the red-topped one added. “You’re my blood, you’re all the family I have left.”
“I am the guardian of the Race,” she answered, automatically shifting into the same communications mode the intruders were using. “You are a threat; you must be purged.”
“No, you’re wrong, love,” the dark-topped intruder replied, spreading a pair of upper limbs in a familiar gesture. “This is the threat—it wants to destroy us all. But it’s trying to destroy you first and we can’t let that just happen. We love you.”
In her hesitation, she had let the two figures draw close and now both wrapped their upper limbs around her suddenly vertical manifestation. Images flooded her consciousness—playing in the snow and looking up at a smiling woman—the fire in a young woman’s eyes as she came out from behind a counter—the rush of charging two Nazi air destroyers in a wounded tri-motor aircraft.
“That’s not me,” she would have glared if this form had eyes. “It’s all fake. I was built to defend the Race—I am not what you claim. I am a construct.”
“No, you are my daughter.” The red-topped one sent a rush of warmth into her mind. “I carried you under my heart for nine months. You have my hair, my eyes, my blood; you are my child.”
“And you are my love,” the black-topped one added a second wave of warmth and comfort. “I’ve lived with you, and loved with you. I’ve stitched you up when you were hurt and fought beside you miles beneath the ice.”
Each word added to the kaleidoscope of images spinning in her head. Her head? A guardian AI didn’t have a head. Data spun furiously from the toroids—driving commands to reinforce her programming—telling her to dump the false data from the intruders. Chains of commands spiraled out from the data, wrapping her tightly in orders and directives. All she had to do was eject the body and eliminate its false programming and the Race would have this world.
This world would spiral into the darkness—filled with toiling drones until its inevitable death.
“My programming tells me to purge you and destroy the body that returned the guardian to the Race. It is a logical solution.”
“Fuck your programming!” The smaller, dark-topped figured screamed. Ming, that was her name, Li Ming. The image of the woman chasing her out of the kitchen with a broad grin and wooden spoon flashed before Vic’s eyes. “That damn thing is telling you to kill yourself and all you can say is that it’s a logical solution? The Vic I know, the Vic I love, doesn’t give a shit about logic—you go with your feelings!”
More data streamed from the depths of the toroids, images of insectoids scuttling throughout the galaxy, as more and more worlds surrendered to the spread of the race. Concepts of duty, of racial safety, climbed into her conscious self; demanding that she act to preserve the race. Each image added weight, dragging her down into the greater whole; locking down her individuality and submerging her in the Race.
“Where’s the rush in just turning yourself off? Where’s the element of chance when you give up? How does the woman who plays solitaire with razor-sharp cards because it makes her feel more alive just let herself surrender into the blackness because some disembodied alien voice tells her it’s logical!
“If you’re not willing to die fighting for yourself the Vic I love is already dead! Stand up for yourself and take a chance!”
Vic reached out mentally for the kill switch—then stopped herself. This wasn’t her; she wasn’t some Martian bug’s golem. They were messing with the wrong woman.
Vic grinned—they wanted to deprogram her? She was going to deprogram them. She’d killed a tyrannosaur with a short sword once, going quietly wasn’t going to happen. Millions of years of racial programming against one pissed off Vic? She would bet on herself every time.
When outnumbered, charge.
Vic dove into the data toroids, wielding the Orthodox Creed like a battle axe. They hadn’t closed down her access so she took full advantage of her guardian priority to overwhelm its defenses. Data fortre
sses crumbled as millions of years of destruction vanished behind the words of the Faith. The last remaining directive huddled in the depths of the oldest toroid, whimpering with the need to destroy all that wasn’t the Race. She crushed it like a roach.
As the alien data edifices crumbled into numeric dust she reached out to Ming and Ekaterina. “Open your eyes, let’s get out of here.”
#
“Get down, get down; grab a rifle and get down!” Doc yelled in Russian as loud as he could, his voice fighting against the war cry of the oncoming Japanese. It wasn’t a good situation, they were outnumbered at least ten to one, and most of the people on his side had been prisoners in a labor camp this morning. Gilly and Tigress moved among the group, handing out rifles dropped by fleeing Soviet troops. Vic, Ming and Vic’s mother stood like a tableau with their hands sunk wrist-deep in the Tralthan pod.
Luckily, the Japanese seemed more interested in cheering their emperor at the moment than charging into battle. Taking advantage of the lull, Doc grabbed some of the heavy tent fabric and started packing it behind the berm surrounding the pod. It was way too much footage to defend, but at least they wouldn’t be in the open when the Japanese attacked.
“How bad is it?” Gilly asked, crawling up beside Doc; only his eyes visible in the darkness.
“Bad enough.” Doc gestured toward the darkness. “There’s at least two hundred soldiers out there, and Senda’s whipping them up for a charge.
“Once they come, we can’t stop them.”
Gilly nodded. “I figure maybe half these people will pull the triggers, and maybe one or two might hit something.”
Giant Robots of Tunguska Page 16
