Nero climbed up the corridor, keeping his eyes searching for targets. On a strange impulse he reached around to his back and grabbed a handle there. He yanked on it and found a long weapon with two rails extending out from its stock in his hands.
It’s called a—
Snake Tongue, he finished for Prospero. He remembered the weapon’s nickname as clearly as if it was his own. I think I have to disagree with you. I think I was a ‘Jumper.
Maybe, Prospero said.
They advanced down the corridor. He wondered just how much control over the vessel the Q-virus really had since there wasn’t a welcoming committee of combat drones right at the bay doors. Perhaps it was just the smaller defense bots that were under its control? He hoped so, but hope didn’t last long as he moved up the conduits leading to the next deck and spotted a humanoid form mummified by bands of dark-gray armor. It had a translucent skull that glowed red with the light of the sensor spots beneath it. The drone fired the compact laser rifle in its hands before he had a chance to react. The beam burned through the first few layers of his armor, sending a stream of vaporized compounds into the air.
Aegis field up, Prospero said. The hot-spot marking the beam moved several centimeters off his chest as his shell generated a high-intensity plasma sheet between two layers of a powerful, short-range magnetic field. The plasma absorbed most of the laser’s energy, but enough of it got through to touch the scorched armor beneath.
Nero tagged the drone with his targeting computer and returned fire with the Snake Tongue, feeling it kick against the magnetic grip of his soles. The bullet blew the robot’s head off and ruptured the pipes and cables behind it. Steam blossomed into the corridor and lit up with arcs of electricity from the ruptured cables like a terrestrial storm-cloud. The drone’s decapitated body twitched and leveled its weapon again in his direction. His second shot blew the rest of it to scrap, filling the steam-atmosphere with high-speed shrapnel that bounced off the metal conduits around it.
It seems I do remember how to work this, he thought.
You may want to switch to using only the particle beam, though, Prospero suggested as bits of their opponent vaporized against his aegis field.
He looked at the damage the gaping, pie-sized holes the two shots put in the ship and returned the Snake Tongue to its compartment. Point taken.
He got three more steps up before another group of combat drones appeared. The cover on the rocket launcher in his shoulder flipped open with a thought as they targeted him with their rifles. He sent an EMP warhead up among them, and it detonated with a rather unspectacular flash. The robots vibrated, spat smoke from their joints, and drifted up off the deck. His own suit’s readouts dimmed for a moment but came back up to full strength thanks to the Shell’s hardened circuitry.
He pressed on, moving faster as his legs remembered how to work the shell to their best advantage. Another bulkhead door proved only slightly resistant to the suit’s strength, and he gained access to another corridor that put him within sight of a battle ahead. Six robots with gray-polymer skin were engaged in a firefight with something beyond their line. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were fighting, and it looked as though Athame was giving as good as she got by the four drifting through the space between the walls.
Nero advanced, but paused when his heads up display indicated movement to his left where a side passage came in to meet the main corridor. He rotated his field of view, focusing on the feed from his lateral sensors and saw a group of four more androids coming with energy rifles in their hands. He switched on the rocket launcher, but Prospero cut in.
I’m not sure what kind of effect that will have on Athame. Praetors are supposed to be only minimally affected by EMP’s, but considering she is one-hundred percent machine, I would advise against it.
He tried to snort, failed, then targeted the four androids with his particle cannon. The stream of ions sliced through their bodies and fried their circuits with brilliant flashes of electricity. He turned back towards Athame in time to see two androids break off their attack and charge at him with guns blazing. His aegis flared but held firm as he closed range. The first he swatted to the side with his left hand. The force of the blow deformed both its body and the pipes it struck. The second moved in without hesitation. It was fast, and Nero couldn’t quite get his arm up in time before the android jammed its pistol against his chest—and shorted out as it bridged the gap across the suit’s aegis field and got a high-voltage shock from the plasma flowing through it. Its body, carried by momentum, struck his armor and bounced off with its humanoid features melting like wax as it drifted away.
That must be one of the autosimilacra types Athame spoke of before, Prospero said. Interesting. It seems Qismat is not familiar with CSC-1A capabilities, either.
Nero shrugged. If you say so.
Up ahead Athame blasted the last of her opponents with the directional EMP built into her arm and folded it back into a functioning hand.
“Impressive work. You made it here faster than I calculated you would,” she transmitted as he approached.
I didn’t meet much in the way of significant resistance for this old shell, he sent back with a pat on his armored chest.
“Gloating is unbecoming, even for a cyborg. This way.” She led them down a short length of corridor to where another bulkhead door awaited.
He moved up to the large iris and forced open the aperture with the raw power in the shell’s artificial tendons. Athame, he noted, watched the process with interest, then floated up and through the passage using the magnets in her body.
He cranked the sensors in his shell to maximum and kept his eyes moving as they proceeded. The deeper into the ship they got the more his alertness turned to dread. Empty corridor after empty corridor passed by with nothing but the mind-numbing familiarity of the machinery around them. He was expecting stiff resistance, but there was none.
What do you suppose is going on? he transmitted both to Athame and Sorina. I doubt Qismat has given up.
“The Q-virus expended a good portion of the defenders on this vessel already. It is fortunate it did not know how to properly use them against us, though I suspect it is learning,” Athame responded. “Perhaps it has learned enough to employ them to greater effect at the next encounter?”
There’s a cheerful thought, he replied.
“If I had the internal sensors under my control I might be able to tell you what is ahead. I am sorry,” Sorina sent.
Don’t sweat it, I’m just thinking aloud. We’ll stay sharp, he responded.
“It is also possible the virus discovered the on-board fabricators and has been replacing its defenses for a final crushing move that will victimize us shortly.”
He stopped and stared at Athame’s passive, purple eyes. She gave a human-like shrug.
“Perhaps I should not think out loud?” she transmitted.
I’m somewhat confused, are you joking? That’s a rather unbecoming trait for a machine to have. Prospero said.
Nero tried to snicker, and was grateful the suit couldn’t. If Athame was joking, it would be a first. To his knowledge AI’s didn’t make jokes or use other social lubricants. Of course, they didn’t hurl insults intentionally, either, and he was unsure if her earlier comment was meant that way. Dismissing the thoughts with a shrug, he started forward again. They came to the next bulkhead door soon after.
The closed iris, roughly twice the size of his armored shell, reflected their dim images back at them as they approached.
Sorina? He transmitted. Can you spare me some heavy lifting here?
“I think so. I still do not have internal scanners under my control, but I can see the door through your sensor feed. Can you find a number indicator?”
“This is door number 16F6,” Athame said.
“Thank you,” Sorina responded. A moment later the door dilated open.
Further conversation was forestalled by the appearance of an adult-sized female figure with zebra-striped skin standing
on two of the pipes just over the doorway’s threshold. Nero’s eyes widened and he targeted the killer android with the particle accelerator on his shoulder. He could feel Prospero’s shock at her appearance matching the intensity of his own. Athame’s hand folded back away from the EMP weapon as she pointed it at Qismat, who held up both hands in a traditional gesture of surrender.
I’m getting a contact request, Prospero said.
Ignore it, Nero thought back and fired.
The second request came as his particle beam blew a hole straight through Qismat’s torso and cut upward, bisecting her. He stepped forward and shoved the lifeless scrap metal aside.
“I wonder what it wanted,” Athame transmitted as she followed him across the threshold. He wasn’t interested in what the Q-virus had to say.
They proceeded deeper into the maze of corridors. The sound of the magnets in his shell’s feet activating and deactivating in time with his steps made a hypnotic thunking sound in his ears. It was the only thing he could hear in the airless environment of the corridors, and despite the encounter with Qismat, it began to take the edge off his alertness as they went through bulkhead after bulkhead. They ascended another corridor, and the pipes beneath his feet began to vibrate. Before he could ask Prospero about it, Athame turned to look behind them and took off, flying down the passage with all the speed her body’s magnetic implants could muster. He took one glance, and followed at a run.
Behind them poured a legion of Qismat clones that, like a cloud of flies, came swarming at them with magnetic hands and feet. The vibration rattled his teeth even as he poured all he could into his legs in an attempt to keep up with Athame.
How far are we from the mainframe? he asked as they ran.
“Seventy-meters, though the path is not direct,” Athame answered.
He nodded, getting an idea as he spotted the next bulkhead door ahead of them.
Sorina, start closing that door.
“Door 1282E,” Athame transmitted without missing a beat.
“Acknowledged. Nero, you sound stressed. Is everything okay?”
Don’t sweat it, just get that door shut, he sent back, trying to show as little strain in his voice as he could.
The door started closing just as the first of the Qismat copies leapt forward and landed on his back. He felt it slam into his shell, and then fall away when Prospero re-activated its aegis field. The appearance of the plasma bubble burned through the Qismat’s body and left its two halves floating in the space behind him.
This trick won’t work forever. Each object our aegis vaporizes or cuts temporarily decreases our power flow. The number of Qismat robots behind us will ensure that—
I know! I know! He screamed into his mind. Ten meters ahead of him Athame sailed through the closing aperture. He could already see it was going to be close. In a second or two the opening would be too small to allow the shell through. Any delay at all, and he’d miss his chance. He could see the scrambling limbs of the seething mass of murderous Qismats reflected in the closing polymer plates of the iris.
Jump! Prospero screamed in his head and cut the magnets in his soles.
He did, seeing the door squeezing shut ahead of him. Athame was on the other side watching his desperate leap with passive eyes. He was a meter away when he felt something slam into him from above. The blow sent his body down into the bundle of pipes and cables below him. He saw the insulation on the power conduits peel back and catch fire as his aegis touched them; then he made contact. There was a flash and then the interior compartment of the shell was pressing in on him. He tried to blink away the retinal burn as the contact gel surrounding every millimeter of his body crawled in and out of his lungs. His shell lurched and he slammed into the compartment’s padding. The blow knocked the viscous breath from his body, and he found himself sucking more in and coughing in fits.
What happened? He thought, trying his best not to start vomiting inside the suit. The oxygenated gel would keep him alive, but his body didn’t know that. It was fighting tooth and nail to breathe.
The suit shorted out, which disconnected us from its somatic feed. I think we got hit by one of the Qismats and—
He felt the suit get tugged towards the direction of his feet. Something was holding him though, preventing the tugging from moving him very far. He felt it again, and this time it was accompanied with the sound of metal scraping against metal.
“Nero, can you hear me?” It was Athame.
Yes.
“You bounced off a power conduit and are stuck in the door. The aperture closed on your armor. I believe the autosimilacra are attempting to pull you back.”
He gritted his teeth. Can you help?
“Standby, Nero.”
The tugs at his feet became more frantic, as did the scraping in his ears as his suit was yanked backward by centimeters. He had no idea how far in he was wedged through the door, but he was sure he didn’t want to get pulled through into that mass of robots. To make matters worse, the tickling of the gel in his lungs was becoming more intense, and he coughed hard enough to see sparks. A second later he found himself in a full coughing fit as his body reacted to the feel of the thickness sliding in and out of his nose and mouth. His mind threatened to descend into the realm of raw animal panic, and it was taking all of his willpower to resist. He heard the screeching of polymer-alloys by his head, and the creaking strain of artificial muscle, then a popping sound like that of a cork being released from a bottle.
Light flooded his eyes, and his head filled with a burning sensation. He coughed and coughed, sending gel bubbles flying in all directions as his body convulsed and tried to draw in air, but sucked on the hard vacuum within the ship’s corridor instead. Athame tossed the head of his shell back behind her and grabbed the rim of the suit’s neck right by his ears.
Agent Khepria, please pressurize the ship, Prospero transmitted with some alarm.
“Prospero, the docking bay door is still open and I cannot—”
“Pressurize section HN-42 and seal bulkhead 1D58,” Athame cut in.
“Nero?”
Do it do it do it! he transmitted.
“Pressurizing!” Sorina came back.
Athame’s hand slipped on the oxygel and his body was yanked backwards again. His bulging eyes perceived that the next yank would take the door past the edge of where the shell’s shoulders ended. The image of the door snapping shut on his head as the Qismats pulled him back went through his mind.
Oh fuck, Prospero said for both of them. His ears rang with a piercing tone, his head felt like it was swelling like a balloon, and he was sure if not for Prospero’s intervention the pain alone would have sent him into unconsciousness.
The next yank came and Athame’s hands shot out, grabbing the edge of his suit again. They slid in the gel, and he saw the suit move backward half a centimeter. The edge of the door was visible on its shoulders, but she applied more pressure and her fingers dug into the metal-ceramic of the suit’s rim.
Athame’s right eye changed color, glowing red a moment before a hot spot appeared on the shoulder opposite her hand. Smoke streamed out from the bright dot, forming stringy gray clouds. Her body shuddered with every tug of the Qismats behind him, but she held fast and continued her work. The smoke began to whip around, and his aching lungs convulsed on something other than gel. Two more convulsions later and Nero felt air move in and out of his mouth as she grabbed the top part of the armor and pulled it away.
“I apologize,” she said in the thickening atmosphere.
“For what?” he asked.
She reached in and grabbed him by his collar bone.
“Oh no. Wait—”
She pulled.
He felt the bone strain and the pressure of her fingers digging into the flesh around it, then the pressure broke with a popping sensation and pain blossomed down his arm and into his chest. He looked over to see her holding him by the collar bone like it was a handle as his body came free with a sucking sound.
His shell finished its slide backwards through the door. He saw a glimpse of the Qismat mass beyond sneering in frustration a moment before the bulkhead door snapped shut.
Athame let go of him.
I’ll clean this up, Prospero said when Nero glanced down and saw beads of blood floating out from the gory wound around his collar bone. You’re lucky your bones are reinforced with carbon-fibers or she would have torn the bone out.
“Thank you, I think,” he said to Athame, panting and happy to be breathing again.
“The mainframe is just ahead.” She grabbed his arm and propelled them forward down the corridor.
“Nero?” Sorina transmitted.
I’m fine, we’re almost there, he sent back, relieved he could say it. “I hope that was Qismat’s last line of defense.”
“It was.” Athame guided them around a turn in the passage and stopped before a cul de sac. A female-shaped depression from which multiple conduits emanated took up most of the wall. “My standby crèche is integrated into the mainframe for this annihilator.”
Nero licked his numb lips. The contact gel evaporated as it was designed to do, leaving his body totally exposed to the frigid air swirling around his skin.
I’ll activate the heating function of our nanomachines until you have clothing again, Prospero said.
“We have a decision to make,” Athame continued. “I have been processing, and I conclude that the Q-virus is too dangerous to allow the possibility that it will survive a reboot and purge of the system. The programmer was clever enough to hide it within your SCC before, and it could hide again.”
“What do you propose?” he asked with chattering teeth. Heat was starting to spread from the inside of his body outward, but the air was still damn cold.
“I conclude that we should destroy the core. This will collapse the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and dump us into normal space.”
“But we are between systems. If we destroy the core we won’t be able to go anywhere.” He frowned.
“Correct.” Athame stared at him.
“And we will die slowly while we drift in space, running out of food.”
Eye of the Abyss: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 3 Page 12
