Reforged (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Isaac Hooke

  “If we stay here, could we escape the nuclear firestorm?” Hicks asked.

  “Doubt it,” Bambi replied. “The heat will flow through the openings… the rocks will amplify it, and it’ll become an oven in here. We’ll melt.”

  “You are a bearer of wonderful news, as always,” Hicks said.

  The platoon passed a side passage, and continued forward. A rising clicking sound came from the passage behind them.

  “You hear that?” Tread said.

  “Gotta be a second swarm of Snagglebeasts,” Hicks commented. “Just our luck!”

  “Hurry forward!” Marlborough said. “The scouts have picked up an intersection ahead. We’re taking the right branch!”

  “How do we know they won’t follow?” Hicks said.

  “That branch is smaller than the main passage,” Marlborough said. “So far, the Snagglebeasts have never chosen a smaller passage when given the choice of a bigger one. Check your logs!”

  “I believe you!” Hicks said.

  The Bolt Eaters dashed forward and took the rightmost portion of the intersection just in time.

  Meanwhile, behind them the wall of Snagglebeasts swept past. Some of the entities still overflowed into the right branch, and Eric and the others had to beat them away as they retreated. Soon there were none left to attack, and the overwhelming clicking produced by the living wall faded into the distance.

  They wandered for an hour in those caves. Whenever crossroads or side passages presented themselves, Marlborough chose a course that he thought would lead through the mountains, based on the map data the platoon had recorded of the external range, and the direction indicated by their accelerometers.

  Sure enough, at the end of that hour, the tunnel ahead opened into the night.

  “We did it,” Mickey said.

  “Eagleeye, send the scouts through,” Marlborough ordered.

  Eagleeye dispatched the scouts.

  “It’s clear out there,” Eagleeye said. “We have ourselves a clear blue sky. No sign of any tangos.”

  “I almost wish there was a snowstorm,” Brontosaurus commented. “It would make our getaway easier.”

  “You can’t always rely on nature to save our asses,” Traps said.

  “No, I suppose not,” Brontosaurus said.

  The team members emerged in a defensive cigar formation and confirmed the area was clear. To the south, barren plains led away to the horizon. The team would be exposed out there.

  “Damn it, I never thought I’d miss a forest as much as I do now,” Traps commented.

  “Look to the east,” Crusher said.

  Eric did so. On the eastern horizon, he spotted the thermal signatures of airships roaming above the mountain range, patrols that were no doubt searching for the Bolt Eaters.

  “We keep to the shoulder of the mountain for now,” Marlborough said. “As soon as the airships vanish from view, we’ll head south across the plains.”

  And so the Bolt Eaters trudged west along the shoulder of the mountain, away from the Banthar patrols.

  Eric glanced at the ticking clock. The nuke would go off four hours from now. He was beginning to think that they might actually make it, if they could keep up the pace.

  Don’t jinx it, he told himself. Because he knew anything could happen between now and then.

  Anything.

  We’ll just have to keep ourselves on our highest alert. And keep hoping.

  22

  In half an hour, the airships vanished over the eastern horizon. In another half hour, Eric and the other Bolt Eaters turned southwest and headed away from the mountains across the plains, as instructed by Marlborough. Southwest, because they wanted to continue putting distance between themselves and the Banthar patrols, while making their way back toward where the platoon believed the rift site was located.

  The night sky remained clear overhead, and no snowstorms swept the area. Eric had hoped one would develop, but no such luck.

  “You told us we’d return home before,” Bambi said at one point during the southwest march, on a private line she shared with Crusher. “You were so confident. But I’m not so sure anymore. Home. It’s almost an abstract concept at this point. Something that exists only in our minds, but has no physical manifestation.”

  “Maybe we won’t ever get home,” Eric agreed. “Maybe I was wrong. But didn’t we conclude that it didn’t matter, as long as we had VR?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Bambi said. “Because while we’re here, we’ll always have to watch our backs. Our Accomps could pull us out of VR at any time, and we’ll have to fight for our lives against the latest Banthar threat. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life in an alien wasteland.”

  “We might have no choice, at this point,” Crusher said. “Arnold might never open another rift to this planet, even if we successfully wipe out the colony with our nuke.”

  “No, he’ll send reinforcements at some point,” Eric said. “I know he will. The Brass won’t leave this planet unexplored. Not if they don’t hear back from us. Arnold promised to send our mind clones looking for us, remember?”

  “Given our current thermal emissions, our clones would be more likely to shoot us down than rescue us,” Bambi said. “Well, at least yours. Bambi and I are the only ones with proper emissions, for now.”

  “Wouldn’t that be funny,” Crusher said. “Dying at the hands of his own clone.”

  “That wouldn’t be funny at all,” Eric said.

  Crusher’s avatar shrugged. “You’re the only Original out of all of us who hasn’t died yet. Maybe it’s time.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Eric said.

  Crusher smiled. “Sorry. That didn’t come out quite the way I wanted it to. I don’t want you to fall. I don’t want any of us to.”

  “And we won’t,” Eric said. “We just have to get through the next three hours.”

  The next two hours passed without incident. They reached a forest with an hour to go before detonation. The eaves were free of snow.

  It was the same forest they had left behind previously, or at least, seemed to be, because the trees were the usual tall, hexagonal-leafed affairs, whose thick, grid-like boughs overlapped to form a canopy that blotted out the stars. There was no way to confirm it for certain, of course, thanks to the jump in position caused by their previous airship ride. It could be the same forest, or an entirely different one; either way, the map data simply couldn’t correlate their positions.

  “Pick up the pace, Bolt Eaters,” Marlborough said. “As it stands, we’ll still be within the firestorm radius when the nuke detonates.”

  “But on the edges,” Hicks said.

  “Even so, I’d rather be clear, if possible,” Marlborough said.

  The team increased their pace, as much as was possible given the damage some of the units had taken, and the battery levels of other units.

  Eagleeye had his scouts switch to LIDAR mode to properly map out the path ahead of the platoon.

  Even so, Eric kept an eye on the forest around him as he marched, wary of ambushers.

  But no attacks came so that when only ten minutes remained to detonation, Eric found himself watching the countdown more than the forest around him.

  “We’re still going to be within the firestorm radius,” Bambi said. “But just barely.”

  “I know,” Marlborough said. “I’m hoping the temperature won’t be too bad along the peripheries of the storm.”

  “One minute to go!” Slate announced at the appropriate time.

  “Keep moving!” Marlborough said.

  “Ten seconds!” Slate said fifty seconds later.

  “Keep running!” Marlborough said.

  Eric watched as the countdown hit zero.

  If the sky wasn’t canopied, he would have been expecting to see the horizon light up to the north, but as it was, he saw and felt nothing. The ground didn’t even shake.

  Of course not, they were too far away.

 
The platoon ran on for the next several minutes.

  And then Eric saw the change in light levels he was expecting.

  It came from behind: a red glow emanated from the forest behind the platoon.

  “Flames incoming!” Brontosaurus announced.

  “Oh, shit,” Dunnigan said.

  “Take cover!” Marlborough said.

  Eric dove behind a nearby trunk, and huddled with Bambi and Crusher.

  “I’m afraid,” Bambi said.

  “Don’t be,” Eric said. “I’m here with you both.”

  “Let’s switch to VR, make love one last time,” Crusher said.

  “No,” Eric said. “If I’m going to die here, I want to witness the end.”

  And so he remained in the real world, waiting for the flames of hell to sweep over him.

  He didn’t have long to wait.

  In moments he was surrounded by a fiery conflagration. He heard what sounded like the roar of a jumbo jet. He didn’t recognize the forest: everything burned a bright red and orange, though engulfed objects, including himself, were pitch black. The undergrowth curled away and disintegrated, the tree trunks withered beneath the hungry flames, and the boughs overhead dissolved.

  “Dee, how are we doing on external temperature,” Eric asked.

  “External temperature is twelve hundred degrees Kelvin,” Dee said. “Within acceptable parameters. Barely.”

  “I’m melting!” Traps said.

  “No you’re not,” Dunnigan said. “Relax, dude. Don’t expend any unnecessary power.”

  That was a good idea. Eric shut down almost everything save for his external cameras: basically anything that might cause him to vent excess heat.

  The bright red glow around them remained in place for an hour, and then, all at once, the flames began to die, and soon he was left standing in a burned out forest. He activated his headlamp to examine the burnt shells of trees beside him. Several had been reduced to stumps or fallen to burn away on the ground, while others remained standing, cinders reduced to half their former size. Other headlamps activated around him as the other Bolt Eaters examined their surroundings.

  Eric almost couldn’t believe it. They were caught in the periphery of the firestorm, but while it was severe enough to destroy the trees, it wasn’t enough to melt their units.

  It seemed almost too good to be true.

  “We survived,” Frogger said. “We nuked a Banthar colony, and lived to tell the tale.”

  “Bitches, we’re going to be entertaining the grandkids for years to come with this story!” Slate said.

  “Um, we can’t have kids,” Eagleeye said.

  “Fuck that,” Slate said. “I’m going to buy little androids and install developmental AIs in them. Or maybe I’ll just get a mind dump done on some little kid.”

  “That’s illegal,” Eagleeye said.

  “Never tell me something’s illegal,” Slate said. “You just make me want to do it even more.”

  “We did it, actually did it,” Mickey said, standing in his Devastator nearby. “And survived.”

  “Didn’t Frogger just say that?” Traps asked.

  “Of course we survived, bitches,” Slate replied. “That’s what we do!”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could sure use some repairs,” Hicks said. “Anyone have any spare alien parts?”

  And then Hicks was struck by an alien spear. It slammed into his chest assembly, and electrical sparks spiraled up and down his entire body.

  Eric spun to the apparent source of the attacker, and saw that Crusher had raised her arm in his direction. She swiveled to the side, and launched another spear, disabling Marlborough.

  Eric tackled her. The overheated servomotors of his Devastator responded far more slowly than he would have liked. “The hell you doing?”

  She wrestled with him. Meanwhile, Bambi threw herself at Brontosaurus.

  “Attack!” Slate announced.

  As Eric fought with Crusher, he spotted an airship swooping down from overhead. M-54 tanks, Savage robots, and Ravager mechs dropped down, along with alien units such as Sloths and walkers. Dragonworms also emerged, and the small spherical scouts. The latter launched silk nets liberally at the platoon.

  Because their servomotors were still recovering from the intense heat, the Bolt Eaters couldn’t properly fight back, and in moments all of them were restrained by the sticky nets. Crusher released Eric, and before he could get up, a Dragonworm pinned him with silk from its tail.

  One of the Ravagers approached. It carried several of the alien spears in one of its large hands.

  Crusher and Bambi strode to the mech’s side.

  “Manticore,” Eric said.

  “Well hello, Scorpion,” Manticore said. “I hope the ladies entertained you.”

  “What did you do to them?” Eric asked.

  “Before your ‘rescue,’ the Essential installed a couple of Trojans when they were in our custody,” Manticore said. “It was simply a matter of waiting for the most opportune time to trigger the code and take control.”

  “You’re too late,” Eric said. “We’ve won. We’ve nuked the Banthar colony.”

  “Colony?” Manticore seemed confused. “This isn’t just some Banthar Colony. This is Banthar Prime. Their homeworld.”

  Eric was speechless, as were the others.

  “Well, that would explain why this bitch-ass mission was so damn hard,” Slate finally said.

  “Yes,” Manticore said. “And the Essential remains untouched by your attack.”

  “What the hell is this Essential?” Dickson asked.

  “The Banthar main AI, of course,” Manticore said. “It pervades all essential systems of this planet, hence the name. Not only does it provide for the Banthar, it also rules them.”

  “Why the hell would they let an AI rule them?” Slate said. “That’s got to be the worst decision ever.”

  “Perhaps, but who are we to judge the being an alien race chooses to make their leader?” Manticore said. “It cannot age, and therefore cannot die. It will never change its mind over a policy decision. And lastly, it will be ruthless in war.

  “The Essential does not exist solely in the metropolis you destroyed, but across all cities planet-wide. You quenched ten million Banthar lives with your nuclear warhead, but otherwise caused no damage to the Essential’s infrastructure. None whatsoever. Did you know, memory-limited clones of the Essential operate the various war machines you have encountered up until this point? So in essence, you’ve been fighting the same single entity all this time. Even during the invasion on Earth.”

  “I suppose the so-called Essential is pissed about our little nuke attack…” Slate said.

  “Not exactly,” Manticore said. “The Essential doesn’t get pissed off. That’s a response reserved for humans, and Mind Refurbs. No, the Essential cares more about the loss in resources that came with the destruction of the city. It is now more determined than ever to conquer Earth, if only to prevent similar resource losses from taking place again.”

  “Wait,” Eric said. “Presumably the Essential had access to the memories of Bambi and Crusher while they were in custody. It would have known our plan. Why let us even detonate the nuke in the first place? Or if you couldn’t stop it, why not relocate it far away from the city?”

  “There was only time to inject the Trojan into the two of them, not to perform complete memory dumps,” Manticore said. “I assure you, if the Essential had known about it, the nuke would have been disabled.”

  “But you knew though, didn’t you?” Eric said. “You had access to our specs before we launched. You would have known that Bambi carried a nuke, and when the Banthar captured her, the portion of her body containing that nuke was absent. But you didn’t tell the Essential. You wanted it to detonate. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  Manticore didn’t answer. Instead, he surveyed the fallen Bolt Eaters for several moments, as if in disdain. And then he finally said: “
It’s now time for you to meet the Essential.”

  Because of his response, Eric was forced to conclude that Manticore didn't know about the nuke after all. Maybe the traitor hadn't had complete access to the specs of all their units. Or if he had, Manticore hadn’t been aware that the Crab contained a nuclear warhead. So there wasn't really any hope for him after all...

  Manticore walked up to Eric and plunged one of the alien spears through the chest piece of his Devastator, just above the AI core.

  Sparks of electricity enveloped him, and Eric felt an incredible pain spread throughout his body; before he could shut down his pain sense, consciousness mercifully faded.

  23

  Eric floated in darkness.

  Where am I? he said. Or rather thought, because he had no mouth.

  “Intermedial,” Dee’s soothing voice said into the empty night.

  Loading stage.

  “That’s right,” Dee said.

  What happened? Do you know where Manticore has taken us?

  “Negative,” Dee said. “The accelerometer only went online a few moments ago. The data is inconclusive.”

  Great.

  He felt like he should be afraid, or at the very least apprehensive, but emotions were completely absent at the moment. He realized that the limbic subroutines related to emotions probably had not loaded yet.

  I hope Bambi and Crusher are all right.

  “I hope this, too,” Dee said.

  Er, that thought was supposed to be private. It wasn’t meant for you.

  “Sorry,” Dee said. “Would you like me to deactivate until loading is complete?”

  No. I could use the company, I think. I’m not sure I’ll like what’s coming.

  After what seemed an eternity, all of his systems came online, and Eric’s cameras finally activated.

  He was lying down on a table. He couldn’t move. He thought he was still inside his Devastator body, but he couldn’t be entirely sure.

  Dee, why can’t I move?

  “Invasive subroutines detected,” his Accomp said. “Access to motor subroutines currently disabled.”