by Isaac Hooke
“Maybe I can hold them off with the energy weapon?” Eric said.
Just as he spoke, four more crystal robots appeared at the far opening to the cavern, and another three broke free of their darkened shells.
7
Eric aimed his weapon at the seven crystal robots in turn, and reapplied the energy weapon.
“Don’t think we have time for you to hold them off,” Marlborough said. “Blocking these creatures is going to be a full time job, at this rate. Al-Khayr, you have any demolition blocks to spare?”
The warlord reached into a crate and produced four.
“We could block up the opening the milk robots are using,” Brontosaurus said.
“We could,” Marlborough agreed. “But then we’d have to move those milk robots inside, first. I’m not sure I want to risk any more robots touching them. And I just don’t think there is time. We have civilians to worry about, too, now, remember. And they don’t have electrified skins to protect them from the termites that might be coming.” Marlborough took the four blocks from the warlord and handed them to Traps. “Have a Breacher plant these in the tunnel separating us from the tanks. We need to seal them off from us. Buy us a little time. And it will protect the tanks from the milk robots when we’re gone, so they won’t have to deal with an attack from two directions.”
Traps handed the blocks to one of the Breachers, and the robot in question hurried toward the tunnel leading to the tanks.
“Bambi, recall your scout,” Marlborough said. “Tread, have the Jupiters target the wall of bioweapon bodies as part of their final orders. When the termites or whatever else appears, they are to unleash their electrolasers at will. The Abrams are to open fire as well. They are not to go down willingly. Instruct them to continue unleashing hell, and if they survive, they are to rendezvous with us on the plains, at these coordinates.”
Eric saw a waypoint appear on his overhead map, situated some distance to the east of the mountains.
“I’ve sent the instructions,” Tread said.
“Scorpion, I want one of your mechs to grab the containment field back there,” Marlborough said. “Confirm that the field is compatible with the Ravager’s power source and plug first. If it won’t work, destroy the termite. But if it will work, take the utmost precautions during the power transference.”
“You got it,” Eric said.
He ordered one of the Ravagers, Massacre, to the containment field that held the termite in place. The power bar the containment field was connected to accepted a universal plug, which told Eric the plug was compatible with the power charging port of the Ravager. Massacre examined the plug, and determined it was indeed compatible with the power the mech could provide. Given the mech’s current energy levels, it would be able to maintain the field for a week if it had to.
Eric sent another Ravager to the containment field, and had it target the termite with its ZX-15 at all times, with instructions to fire at his command.
Then he gave the order for Massacre to transfer the plug from the power bar to its chaining port.
The mech obeyed. The termite momentarily dropped to the ground as the power failed, but then floated into the air between the two metal plates as Massacre plugged the field into its port.
Eric instructed a third Ravager to strap the containment field to the back of Massacre, using carbon fiber cables and magnetic mounts from its storage compartment, and then all the mechs returned to Eric’s position. He examined the termite, and was satisfied the micro machine was properly restrained between the two plates that jutted out like a butterfly’s wings from the back of the mech.
“One containment field and the termite it harbors, secured,” Eric said.
“Thank you,” Marlborough said.
The Breacher and Bambi’s scout emerged from the tunnel a moment later, and a plume of dust erupted from behind them. The Breacher turned around and issued a series of chirps into the dust.
“Looks like the tunnel is completely sealed now,” Traps said. “The passage Scorpion dug with his mechs is gone. The tanks are on their own.”
An explosion rocked the cavern, and Eric’s eyes were drawn to the east, where a glow was coming from a tunnel leading outward there.
“I’ve detonated the heat grenades,” Al-Khayr said. “Come, help me dig up the remnants.”
Eric and the other Cicadas approached the tunnel ahead of the women and children and armed tribesmen.
“Scorpion, stay here with the mechs for now,” Marlborough said. “Al-Khayr, your men will only get in the way.”
“Understood,” Al-Khayr said.
The Cicadas and support robots entered the tunnel, and began digging through the rubble of the tunnel inside. They moved in a blur, their time senses no doubt heightened as they cleared the last of the partially melted blockage. Pieces of slag and other broken rocks were tossed from the entrance as they worked; some of the tribesmen foolishly walked in front to observe the progress and were hit with flying debris that was still hot from the heat grenade. They’d yelp before ducking out of the way to nurse their second or third degree burns.
Eric continued to unleash his energy weapon at the milk robots when they broke free from their darkened shells. More kept appearing from the tunnel, and Eric was going to suggest that they block it up, too, but then Marlborough finally spoke.
“That’ll do!” Marlborough said. “Al-Khayr, your men will follow my unit. The women and children will come behind them, followed by more of your armed men. Scorpion, you and the mechs will bring up the rear.”
“Roger that,” Eric said.
Eric waved for the tribe members to enter in the specified order, and then instructed his mechs to enter before him. Before following on drag, he unleashed an energy shot at each of the encased milk robots, for good measure.
Then he ducked into the tunnel. The headlamps of the robots, and those worn by some of the humans, lit the way.
The warlord hadn’t been kidding. The tanks would never fit that passage. Eric barely squeezed his own mech inside, and he had to crouch right down. The other Ravagers had similar difficulties ahead of him.
Eric almost got stuck in the region that the Cicadas had cleared, because the heat grenades had fused some of the rock to the ground, permanently shrinking the size of the tunnel. The energy launcher mounted to his shoulder scraped against the rock ceiling, carving several lines into the mineral. He had to press his arms and elbows against his metal rib area, and he walked in a squat position, with his knee servomotors pressed against his chest, and his heels nearly touching the back of his thighs. It was a good thing he was a robot, or he doubted he would have had the strength to individually lift each leg like that.
After much scraping and grinding of metal, he was finally through the cramped section, and he was able to return to a more manageable crouch.
The cave was just wide enough to swivel his torso around, so he did so, while keeping his feet pointed forward. That was another plus of having his consciousness inhabit a mech: he was very flexible.
He kept an eye on the rear, watching for any pursuit from those milk robots, or the centipede diggers; he was ready to fire his energy cannon as necessary.
But no pursuers came.
Marlborough had the Kurds plant the last of their demolition bricks onto the ceiling; Eric passed the designated area, and when it was four meters behind him, the sergeant gave the order and the roof caved in.
The tunnel filled with a debris cloud, and the humans ahead of him began to cough.
Eric activated his echolocation chirpers, as did the others, and the cave walls, and the mechs and humans beyond them, became outlined in white.
“Shit, the tribesmen and their families aren’t going to be able to see,” Hank said.
“That’s the problem with having robots lead humans,” Crusher said. “The robots tend to forget the humans are, well, only human.”
“They’ll have to feel their way forward until we leave the dust cloud beh
ind,” Marlborough said. “Keep talking, guide them with your voice. Scorpion, make sure your mechs are careful not to crush any laggards.”
“You got it,” Eric said.
He pulled up his remote interface, and modified his instructions to the Ravagers: they were to maintain a five meter separation from the tribe members at all times.
At one point the party had to pause, when one of the woman collapsed, and refused to go on.
“I can’t do it,” she said in Arabic. “The cave walls are too tight.”
“They’re too tight for all of us,” a bearded man kneeling beside her told her. Her husband, Eric guessed. “We’re all afraid.”
“I’m claustrophobic,” the woman said.
“You’ve lived in a cave for a year, and now you tell me you’re claustrophobic?” the man threw up his arms. “Woman! Get up!”
One of the children ran away crying, toward the mechs.
The Ravagers froze, not wanting to harm the child.
Eric, meanwhile, knelt, blocking the path.
The child stopped short before hitting him. His eyes were large saucers filled with fear.
“Khan!” the woman shouted. “Where is Khan!”
Eric held out a large metal hand that could easily crush the boy’s body.
“My name is Eric,” he said. “You are Khan?”
The boy merely gaped.
“Your mother is looking for you, Khan,” Eric said. “You shouldn’t make her wait.”
He held his two hands together, and formed a butterfly. He made the wings flap, his servomotors buzzing.
“Look,” Eric said. He nodded toward the wall. “A butterfly.”
The child looked at the wall, and upon seeing the butterfly formed by the shadow, suddenly burst into a grin.
The husband of the woman appeared, shoving his way through the legs of the mechs. He grabbed his son and hauled him away, but not before giving Eric a frightened look.
Eric sighed.
They fear me. They always will. This is why none of us can ever return to live among humanity. Frogger was right. Even if the military ever lets us go, there’s no place for us.
The woman eventually mustered the will to go on, now that her son was restored to her, and the party resumed the march.
Eric followed along with the overhead map during the journey, which showed their progress through the cave system. The group spent the next three hours marching without rest, something that was no doubt very hard on the humans. Frogger had reminded the Sarge that humans, especially the fragile children, could only walk so long before exhaustion set in, but whenever Marlborough tried to stop the group to rest, Al-Khayr insisted on driving the tribesmen on.
“You think we Kurds are weak?” Al-Khayr told Marlborough at one point.
“Not weak,” Marlborough said. “Human.”
“Hmph!” the warlord said. “We’re stronger than you robots! We march on!”
At one point Marlborough tried to enforce a rest, but the warlord drove his people past the robots like cattle, so that they were in the lead, with the Cicadas following behind.
“If there’s one thing to be said about this Al-Khayr fellow, he’s certainly stubborn,” Hank said.
“And stupid,” Slate said. “If there are any bioweapons up ahead, bitch is leading his people straight to death.”
But no attacks came, and eventually, to Eric’s relief, the tunnel opened out onto the plains once more. The map had proved accurate.
The warlord actually had some sense at that point, and paused a ways from the entrance so the Bolt Eaters could send scouts outside to explore.
“Scouts report no sign of any enemy units,” Bambi reported a moment later.
“Then let’s get out there,” Marlborough said.
8
Like half of the Cicadas, Eric kept an eye on the shoulder of the mountain; the other half watched the plains on the opposite side. It was completely dead out there.
They purposely hugged the shoulders of the east-west trending mountain range, because if they advanced out in the open, they would be completely exposed. At least here there were rocky overhangs that would occasionally shield them from above, plus outcrops and other natural depressions that would hide their profiles from prying eyes on the plains. The robots and mechs had cleaned off the dust that had collected on their LED skins, so they could activate their stealth blending mode once more. However, they faced a technologically advanced enemy that could track them beyond visual means; they expected these aliens and their bioweapons to have access to LIDAR, echolocation, thermal imaging, and other tech humanity had yet to imagine, so whatever natural cover the team could take advantage of, they would. Plus, the Kurds with them didn’t even have any protection on the visual band, though admittedly the drab gray and black traditional clothes they wore helped them blend in somewhat with the rocky landscape.
The team was heading in a general westward direction. Their goal, for the time being, was to put as much distance between themselves and the bioweapons and other alien creations behind them. They still had no plans yet on how to stop the alien invasion.
Mickey ran experiments on the termite suspended in the containment field strapped to Massacre’s back and plugged into the mech’s power port. He was trying to determine how the micro machines communicated with one another. In his words: “Even micro machines need a way to coordinate with one another, so they don’t attack each other, or collide with each other while in the swarm.”
To that end, Mickey was bombarding the termite with electromagnetic waves of varying frequencies, but so far hadn’t been able to get a response from the thing. Mickey theorized that the containment field might be affecting its ability to communicate.
Brontosaurus meanwhile had mounted to Eric’s upper back now that they were well away from the cave, and had begun experimentations on the energy weapon once more. Brontosaurus wanted to figure out how to charge the weapon, so Eric could use it to unleash more damage at a given target, as the Black Tails had done. Eric had loosened the magnetic mounts on the cannon so the muzzle pointed to the south, away from the Bolt Eaters and Kurds, that way, when Brontosaurs occasionally fired the weapon, the powerful beam shot out harmlessly across the plains.
“Uh, is it wise to be shooting that out across the plains,” Slate said over the comm. “I mean, do we really want to attract the attention of more aliens?”
“He’s right,” Marlborough transmitted. “While it’s beneficial to work out how to use this alien technology, try to keep the firing to a minimum, Brontosaurus.”
“You got it, Sarge,” Brontosaurus said.
“Between you and me,” Eric told Brontosaurus. “I’m more worried about exhausting the weapon’s power supply than attracting the attention of any aliens.”
“Won’t happen,” Brontosaurus said. “The cannon draws its power from a source we haven’t discovered yet. I’m sure of it. And there’s plenty of energy available from that source.”
“Tesla’s Free Energy?” Eric said.
“Bingo,” Brontosaurus said. “Or it’s equivalent.”
“Really...” Eric said.
“Uh huh,” Brontosaurus said. “I’m able to detect a small neutrino burst with each release. And given that we’re not really set up to detect neutrinos, that means there are a whole lot more emitted with each power up, but I just can’t read them.”
“Okay,” Eric said. “I thought you were an army engineer whenever you were alive, by the way, not a theoretical physicist.”
“Oh I was,” Brontosaurus said. “But I minored in physics, so, you know...”
“Neutrinos...” Eric said. “Those are produced by nuclear reactions, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” Brontosaurus said. “The sun produces two times ten to the thirty neutrinos per second. Nuclear power plants radiate them, too.”
“All right,” Eric said. “Let me know if you discover anything.”
Crusher slowed down to march at their si
de. “So what do you think of these tag-alongs?”
“The Kurds?” Eric said, surveying the group of fifty men, women and children marching some distance ahead of him. “It’s our duty to protect them.”
“Maybe,” Crusher said. “But if the shit hits the fan, and it’s a choice between saving one of you, and saving one of them, I’m choosing one of my own kind, every time.”
“So you think of robots as your own kind, now?” Eric said.
“No,” she replied. “Not robots. But the Bolt Eaters. My brothers and sisters. And besides, the way I look at it, we’ve got a better chance of defeating these aliens when all is said and done, than these soft, easily-killed people.”
“Maybe,” Eric said. “Then again, maybe not. Already they’ve given us something we didn’t have before.”
“What, you mean the termite they captured?” Crusher said. “We could have done the same thing, if we had access to a containment field.”
“But that’s my point,” Eric said. “We didn’t. And so here we are.”
“Yes, here we are...” Crusher said. The heavy gunner walked on in silence for a moment. And then: “So, how do you like being inside a mech?”
“It’s better than being a Cicada,” Eric told her.
“Don’t you feel more vulnerable?” she persisted. “You’re bigger than the rest of us, so you make a bigger target. Plus, if any termites ever come, then you have no protection against them.”
“Yeah, there’s that,” Eric said. “But I also pack a bigger punch.” He tapped the energy cannon on his shoulder.
“Hey!” Brontosaurus said from his back. “I’m working here.”
“Sorry,” Eric said.
“You guys and your guns,” Crusher said. “Always want the biggest and the baddest. You’re not trying to compensate for something, are you?”
“If by compensate, you mean for dick size, then well yes, I am,” Eric said. “Because of course I have no dick whatsoever at the moment.”
“But you have balls of steel,” Crusher said.
