by Isaac Hooke
More such comments came over the comm, telling Rade that most, if not all, of the platoon had been captured. He glanced at his overhead map—true enough, the blue dots of the Titans had relocated to the rooftops. They were stationary like his own, and surrounded by several red dots each.
Nearby hornheads stepped aside, making way for smaller box-shaped robots that carried blowtorches and laser saws.
The robots applied their cutting instruments to his mount points. Rade activated his Lighter, but it had no effect on the robots as they weren’t actually touching him. He struggled frantically, watching in horror as his weapons were systematically severed.
When it was done, the robots moved away, leaving him almost completely and utterly disarmed. He never felt so impotent, so helplessly under the power of someone else. He still had his blaster, attached to the utility belt of his jumpsuit, and a small laser rifle in the storage compartment of his mech, also meant for jumpsuit use, but those were pointless if he couldn’t leave his cockpit. He still had his Lighter, too, and retractable shields. Also useless.
Mercifully they had left his external camera intact, so when the cutting robots departed, he directed his lenses toward the platoon members on the adjacent rooftops; he saw that the other Titans were similarly bound, and had also been stripped of their weapons. The Marines, restrained by single chains to their associated winches, had had their armaments confiscated, too.
The hornheads loaded the large winches onto four-legged pack animal robots that waited on the snowpack below; the mechs were dragged down with them, courtesy of the chains.
About the size of each Titan, those large pack robots reminded Rade of the elephantine ARAT I rescue units employed by the UC. Four pack robots were needed to transport every mech, one for each chain binding their limbs.
When every Titan and Marine was in place, the pack robots advanced toward some unknown destination. The robots coordinated their advance so that they moved in unison: those that held Rade kept to the four corners of his mech, ensuring that he remained prostrate and spread-eagled one meter from the ground.
On his overhead map he saw that the other mechs were arrayed in a single-file line ahead of him, with each Titan similarly surrounded by red dots at its four corners. More red dots followed the advance from the vantage of the adjacent rooftops, while the dots representing the remaining enemy tangos dispersed. Those latter took the confiscated weaponry with them.
Rade saw that only one pack robot was utilized for each Marine, who were ported at the head of the party. As for the Centurions, the UC combat robots had disappeared from the map entirely—either destroyed by the hornheads or gunned down by the second wave, no doubt.
“Um,” Bomb said.
“Yeah,” Bender said. “We’re in trouble.”
fourteen
Rade stared forlornly at the overcast clouds above him as the pack robots ported him across the human-style neighborhood. The escorting robots leaped between the buildings, staying to the roofs; their numbers had diminished to only a few on either side. No hornheads were among them: the bioengineered creatures had moved on, although their howls could be heard occasionally in the night.
“If anyone has any ideas,” Facehopper transmitted over a platoon-wide private channel. “Speak up.”
“These robots are based on human tech, right?” Trace said.
“Mostly,” TJ said. “A mixture of UC and Sino-Korean variants, with some alien designs thrown into the mix.”
“Okay well, take these pack robots,” Trace said. “They look like glorified ARATs to me. Classic UC tech. You and Bender are our best hackers, TJ. If anyone can find a way to override these things, it’s you guys. Or maybe you can hack into the robots providing overwatch on the rooftops.”
“Trust me, I’ve been trying,” TJ said. “All of my remote connection attempts have been refused. I’ve tried a few buffer overflows and other zero days to force the connection, no good. Niente. If I can’t connect, I can’t even begin a privilege escalation attack.”
“Bender?” Trace said.
“No luck here,” Bender replied.
“Any other ideas?” Facehopper said.
Several moments of silence followed.
“We have no useable weapons,” Fret said. “We can’t eject from our cockpits. Our mechs are bound in chains. Just face it, we’re doomed.”
“I refuse to believe that,” Rade said. “At some point they’ll have to open up our cockpits if they want to get access to our bodies. And that’s when we’ll attack. Each of us carries a blaster strapped to our utility belts. We have laser rifles in our storage compartments that we can give to the Marines as well.”
“They use special Weaver-type robots equipped with long needles to inject their nano-machines, right?” Fret asked.
“That’s correct,” Rade responded.
“Well then,” Fret continued. “How do you know those needles of theirs can’t pass through our cockpits and into our helmets while we’re still in the mechs?”
“We’ve never seen it before,” Rade said. “And those would have to be some strong needles. They’ve always had to remove us from our jumpsuits and shave our heads before they could apply them in the past.”
“Sure,” Fret said. “But just because we haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, as Lui likes to say. These aliens innovate just as fast as we do. Hell, they’d have to, given the number of us they’ve assimilated. You know what I would do if I were them? I’d switch out our O2 tanks. They know that when we’re in the cockpits, the external tanks on our mechs automatically take over from the jumpsuit supply. So switch out our O2 with something tainted. Throw in some kind of nerve agent. And after we’re all unconscious, then remove us from the mechs to introduce us to their nano-machine friends.”
“You know, you should probably be careful what you say over the comms,” Manic said. “There’s a good chance they’re listening in. Try not to give them any ideas or anything.”
“Afraid that can’t be helped at the moment,” Facehopper said. “It’s a risk we’re just going to have to take.”
“I doubt they’re listening,” TJ said. “Remember, we’re using a private channel with different encryption keys.”
“There you go,” Facehopper said. “So, any ideas other than waiting until they bring us to their den?”
“Speaking of their den,” Mauler said. “It’s probably going to have a life support environment. Something with an airlock. A radiation-shielded building. Or underground bunker of some kind.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Bomb said.
“I actually don’t either,” Mauler admitted.
“I know what you’re trying to say,” Skullcracker said. “Eventually, we’ll reach a choke point. Be it an airlock, or a tunnel. And they’ll have to load our mechs inside one by one. These pack robots won’t fit. That’s when we strike.”
“I agree it’s certainly something to watch for,” Facehopper said. “But I want a solution for an escape now. This den of theirs is going to be heavily fortified. Probably surrounded by pulse platforms designed to shoot down any escapees. We’ll have the best chances if we can break free before then. Especially with the small number of escorts they’ve assigned. So give me some options, mates.”
The conversation ebbed and flowed in the coming minutes, with various untenable ideas bandied about between the MOTHs and Marines.
“What about we just keep struggling, and hope one of them slips and falls?” Manic said.
Rade pulled on his arm bindings, testing the validity of that idea. He noticed that the pack robots tilted toward him slightly when he did so. They moved inward a few steps before the servomotors in their long legs kicked in, whirring louder as the robots expended more energy to keep themselves in place. Rade noticed that when he ceased his resistance on one side, those robots would overcompensate afterward, altering the overall course a small amount. He realized he could steer them in that manner, at leas
t a short distance. Not enough to make much difference on the wide thoroughfare however.
“Don’t think they’re going to slip and fall,” Lui said. “And even if they do, it’s not going to help us all that much. You forget there are robots on overwatch, waiting to fire their lasers at anyone who decides to misbehave. What we really need to do is find a way to rip away these chains trapping us in the cockpits. At least then we have a chance of fighting back with some real weapons.”
Rade thought about those chains. He activated his external hull display, which showed an outline of his Titan from the front view. The restraints were indicated as dark bands across the arms and legs, and around the torso region, as determined by the hull sensors.
He realized that the chain wrapped around his chest was located near the lower portion of the cockpit hatch. Because of its relatively short length, it only looped once around his body, so in theory if he could apply enough pressure he might be able to slide the chain out of the way.
“Jerry, try again to open the hatch,” Rade told his AI.
He heard a clicking sound but the hatch didn’t move.
“Retract the cocoon,” Rade said. “And engage emergency internal lighting. I’m going to give you a hand.”
The inner actuators retracted and Rade dropped to the bottom of the cockpit. Blue HLEDs provided a gentle background glow. He considered activating his headlamp but if succeeded in opening the hatch, the light would only draw the enemy to him.
“Open it again on my mark. Mark.” He threw himself at the inside of the hatch as it clicked. The door didn’t budge. “Again. Again.”
He repeatedly hurled his shoulder into the hatch but it was no use.
He accessed the profile view of the Titan once more and determined that the chain had indeed remained stationary.
On the display, he rotated the mech around to the back side. He saw the chain was positioned neatly between a pair of dorsal jumpjet nozzles and Trench Coat outlets. If he could shift that chain slightly, moving it up or down over either of them...
“Jerry, one more time, open the hatch on my mark. Mark.” He rammed himself at the hatch. Again. He kept his eye on the display, but the chain never shifted.
Finally, after five attempts, he stopped. Breathing hard, he surveyed the display once more.
“What am I missing...” Then he realized something. “Jerry, highlight the location of the air brakes for me, would you?”
The rear view outline updated with the requested information.
The air brake panels overlapped the chains, with the majority of the retracted wings located just above it.
Promising...
“Deploy aft air brakes,” Rade ordered.
“Deploying aft air brakes,” Jerry replied.
He heard the sound of the brakes activating, but according to the display they didn’t open entirely, and had jammed up against the chain.
“Retract, and deploy again,” Rade instructed.
The brakes closed and opened. Still the chain prevented the full deployment. Its links had actually slid down slightly on the back, according to the display, but had become snagged upon the upper portion of the jetpack nozzle.
“Again. Again.”
He repeatedly had the AI redeploy those brakes, and after three tries the wings finally snapped out; the chain slid down so that a few of its links were located directly over two of the jumpjet nozzles.
Rade asked the AI: “Can you perform a materials analysis on the foreign chain segments located below nozzles 1B and 2B?”
“I can...” Jerry replied.
“Give me the melting point, if possible,” Rade said.
“Estimated melting point: one thousand five hundred Kelvin.”
“If we fire jumpjet 2B on slow burn, fuel conservation mode, how high can we heat the chain links crossing it?” Rade asked.
“One thousand, eight hundred Kelvin.”
Perfect.
“But we will expend approximately eighty percent of remaining fuel,” the AI added.
“Even with the one nozzle?” Rade said.
“Even with the one,” Jerry replied.
“How long until we melt through?” Rade said.
“Given the current materials analysis, approximately one minute, twenty three seconds,” the AI replied.
“Okay,” Rade said. “Finally, what are the radiation levels like out there? How long can I survive in my jumpsuit?”
“It isn’t a question of how long you can survive,” the AI replied. “But how long before you receive a fatal dose.”
“Fine, how long before I receive a fatal dose?”
“At the current levels, you have forty-five seconds,” Jerry said. “The anti-rads embedded in your skin will protect you until then. But anything beyond that and the subdermals will oversaturate, causing you to die within the next few hours.”
“Forty-five seconds,” Rade said. “Got it. Begin slow burn, fuel conservation mode. Nozzle 2B.”
“Beginning slow burn,” the AI replied.
On the mech diagram overlaying his vision, Nozzle 2B glowed red.
“I agree with you, Chief, it was a mistake for the aliens to thin out the ranks of their escorts,” Rade said over the comm. “But they made another, even worse mistake.”
“And what’s that?” Facehopper asked.
“They left our jumpjets completely intact.” He instructed the platoon members to repeatedly deploy their air brakes until the rear chain segments slid over the jumpjet nozzles. Most of them couldn’t do it—the chains had been wrapped slightly differently around the torsos of each Titan—but Bender, Manic and TJ succeeded, and similarly engaged their jumpjets on slow burn.
As he waited for the chain to melt, he thought about the robots that followed them on overwatch from the rooftops. While it was indeed a mistake for the enemy to thin out their ranks, there were still enough of those robots to easily mow down Rade and the others once the MOTHs emerged. Unless he could find a way to distract them...
“If I melt the top layer of snowpack with my other dorsal nozzles,” Rade told the AI. “How long will it take for the snow to refreeze into ice?”
“A two hundred microsecond burst applied at full power will cause the top layer to refreeze in three seconds,” Jerry replied.
“More than enough time.”
As the chain neared melting temperature, Rade quickly relayed his plan to Alpha and the Storming Amazons.
“It’s not going to work,” Luxe said when Rade was done. “Too many moving parts.”
“It will work,” Rade told her. “And there aren’t too many parts. Not at all. It’s a simple plan.”
“If you’re not back inside your mechs in forty-five seconds,” Luxe said. “The four of you are giving yourselves death sentences.”
“We’ll make it.”
In that moment his display flashed.
“The slow burn emission from Nozzle 2B has melted through the chain,” Jerry announced.
“Cease slow burn,” Rade said. Over the comm: “Charlie is cut.”
He waited tensely. He was worried one of the pack robots, or the tangos escorting from the rooftops, would notice. The ends of the severed chain were likely dragging along the snowpack at that very moment. The sound would be soft, but still audible—whether or not the robots would hear it above the crunch of the many metallic feet was another question. But if they did, he would just have to set the plan in motion early, and wait for Bender, TJ and Manic to join him later.
But as the apprehensive seconds passed, and none of the robots gave any indication they had perceived the break in the chain, he began to relax slightly. The red dots remained in their respective positions around the mechs, slowly advancing.
“Charlie is cut,” Bender announced.
“Mine too,” TJ said.
“And mine,” Manic added a moment later.
Rade glanced at the overhead map. The convoy was passing through an area where the human-style houses had
collapsed into rubble on either side, and the escorting robots had to pick their way across the debris while the pack robots faced little resistance in the street below. He and the others would be too exposed if they vacated at the moment. He needed intact human-style buildings. And not the crystalline, geometrical structures that were quickly coming up after the current neighborhood.
“Hold,” Rade sent.
He waited several anxious seconds until the rubble was replaced with relatively stable housing once more. The escort robots promptly returned to the rooftops.
“Now, Cyclone,” Rade sent.
“Initiating burst,” Tahoe said.
On his overhead map a green section appeared, indicating where Tahoe had fired his jumpjets to temporarily melt the top layer of the snowpack, turning it to black ice for the following mech, containing Skullcracker.
Skullcracker’s dot, and the red dots of the pack robots that carried his Titan, swerved sideways as he obviously pulled on the chains binding him. He steered them so that one of the pack robots was headed directly toward the black ice.
“Jerry, prepare to proceed with the plan,” Rade said.
“Ready,” the AI replied.
The pack robot passed over the icy section. Skullcracker must have pulled again, because Rade heard a thud.
“Robot down,” Skullcracker transmitted.
Metallic clanks drifted through the air to Rade. Skullcracker had pulled the helpless pack robot to him along the ice, and was pounding it.
Distraction in play.
Rade set a timer on his HUD to forty-five seconds. “Proceed, Jerry.”
He heard a soft click as the hatch opened a crack in front of him.
fifteen
Rade drew the blaster from his utility belt and initiated the HUD countdown. He kicked the hatch open completely against the unresisting chain, leaped out, and jetted toward the closest house, aiming for a window.
He spun around in mid-flight, and with targeting help from his local AI, took out the two robots in his immediate line of fire on the opposite rooftop.
