Reloaded (AI Reborn Trilogy Book 2)

by Isaac Hooke

  “Stand down,” Brontosaurus said. “Drop the mounts.”

  “No,” Manticore said.

  “What do you mean, you killed your wife?” Crusher said.

  “Marge,” Manticore said. “I was driving the boat. I took control from the AI to show off. I’m the one who crashed. It’s my fault.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Marlborough said. “Another life. She’s been dead over a hundred years. As have you.”

  “Yes,” Manticore said. “I’m dead. So put me back in the ground. I want to go. I can’t stand this pain. I told you to leave me behind, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “That’s because we don’t leave Bolt Eaters behind, Soldier!” Marlborough said. “Now suck it up and drop those weapon mounts!”

  Manticore struggled against Brontosaurus for a few moments, but when he couldn’t break free, he relaxed.

  “The cryo company was supposed to freeze her,” Manticore said. “But they never recovered the body. I canceled my own freeze, before the end, but for some reason the request didn’t go through. I was never supposed to be revived. Never supposed to go under. And yet, here I am.”

  Manticore’s head lolled to the side. He seemed to realize that his left arm was still pointed at the transport, along with his weapon mount, because he suddenly opened fire again.

  He released several salvos against the transport until Brontosaurus finally shoved his own heavy gun into the mount and unleashed several blasts at close range, disabling the weapon.

  Manticore looked up at Brontosaurus again. “Kill me.”

  “You know if you die here, there’s no coming back, right?” Brontosaurus said. “No mind backups.”

  “Yes,” Manticore said. “I want that. Do it. Do it!”

  He struggled; Eric had the impression he was trying to lift his remaining mount.

  Marlborough stepped forward. He examined the damage Manticore had caused to the transport. “How much has he set back our schedule?”

  “He hasn’t, I think,” Dickson said. “He’s fired at a non-critical cargo bay. We can leave it as is. It won’t need any repairs.”

  Marlborough nodded. “I think he knew that. And he was trying to provoke us into taking him down. Manticore, what are you doing?”

  Manticore didn’t answer.

  The Sarge nodded at Brontosaurs. “Let him stand.”

  Brontosaurus hesitated.

  Marlborough had a rifle mount attached to his forearm, and he pointed it at Manticore. “Let him stand.”

  Brontosaurus released Manticore, and the heavy gunner promptly climbed to his feet. Manticore walked right up to the Sarge and positioned himself so that the muzzle of Marlborough’s rifle was directed at his AI region.

  “Do it,” Manticore said.

  “We’re going to find a way to re-enable your Containment Code,” Marlborough said. “We’re going to suppress your emotions. You’re going to get through this.”

  Manticore sagged. Then he abruptly lifted his head, and aimed his still intact mount at Marlborough.

  The heavy gunner squeezed the trigger before anyone could react.

  But he hadn’t fired at Marlborough.

  But something past him.

  Eric looked past the Sarge, toward the others, trying to see who Manticore had shot down.

  And then a Red Tail dropped into the pool of light emitted by a smelter.

  “Attack!” Mickey said.

  Eric switched to LIDAR, illuminating their surroundings completely.

  The outlines of hundreds of Red Tails filled the valley and the mountain slopes bordering it.

  “We need the transport air-worthy now!” Marlborough said.

  “I’m putting in the final touches!” Dickson said. “Give me fifteen minutes!”

  “You have five!” Marlborough said. “Bolt Eaters, fire at will! Protect the transport, and everything else!”

  Eric began firing his energy cannon at the clumps of them. He maneuvered in front of the closest smelter, and protected the carriers as they came in to unload their latest batch of ore inside.

  “The hell!” Slate said, who was opening fire beside Eric. “How did these fuck sores evade our thermal bands?”

  “Evidently they’re not producing any heat,” Hicks said, unleashing his sniper rifle in rapid succession, and hamstringing a nearby bioweapon.

  “That’s impossible!” Slate said.

  “Maybe they’re just really good at keeping that heat stored inside for stealth purposes, until they need to release it!” Eagleeye said, firing.

  Sure enough, the LIDAR outlines filled out with red a moment later as heat flooded the exteriors of the creatures.

  “See, told you they were holding it in!” Eagleeye said.

  “Sorta like what you do with your shits when you want to impress on a first date?” Slate said, releasing several pulses at the creatures. Then he alternated between a male and female voice. “‘Look at this, baby, come here for a second!’ ‘My my, what big dumps you take. I can see why they call you Eagleeye!’ ‘That’s right! Never met a toilet I couldn’t fill from a mile away!’”

  “You and your scatological humor,” Eagleeye said.

  “So Manticore, are you good now?” Crusher asked as she fought.

  In answer, Manticore issued a yell, and ran straight into the bioweapons.

  “Stop him!” Marlborough said.

  Eric released his energy cannon at a dense clump of bioweapons near Manticore, hoping that their body parts would impede the heavy gunner.

  But Manticore must have switched to Bullet Time, because he dodged the debris in a blur, and ran straight into the midst of the remaining Red Tails. He fired at them like a madman. He burst the tail of a bioweapon, taking it down. Then he hamstrung two more. He fought like he had nothing to lose.

  When he had everything to lose.

  “He’s drawing them away from the transport!” Bambi said.

  “Dickson, how are we doing on time?” Marlborough said.

  “Five minutes,” Dickson said. “I’m printing up an interface for the five batteries we salvaged from the Russian tanks.”

  Eric continued firing his energy cannon, taking out large swathes of the creatures, concentrating on those that were approaching Manticore. “Sarge, do we risk the wormhole weapon?”

  “Negative,” Marlborough said. “They’re too close to the transport.”

  “Maybe I can draw them away?” Eric said.

  “Again, negative,” Marlborough said. “This could be the first wave of a bigger attack. There could be more coming from multiple directions. In fact, there probably are. And there’s a good chance some of them are Black Tails, maybe with a wormhole weapon of their own, or some other weapon we’ve never seen before. We stay here, we protect the transport, and we go.”

  They fought for the next five minutes. The Red Tails continued to flow down the mountain, and the team fought them relentlessly, forming a big pile of the creatures. Some of them had spears, and they often tried to throw them at Eric; he kept his LIDAR active, and had Dee switch to Bullet Time automatically whenever the proximity sensor tripped, allowing him to avoid the spears that he didn’t at first see.

  “Ready to go!” Dickson announced at the five minute, thirty second mark. “Batteries are interfaced, and the transport has powered up. She’s about as air worthy as I can make her. If she crashes ten seconds after landing, don’t blame me!”

  “Doesn’t sound too reassuring,” Marlborough said.

  “Got a Black Tail!” Mickey said.

  A wormhole formed two hundred meters away from the transport, in front of the mine, and diggers and carriers were sucked away.

  Eric and the others ran toward the open ramp of the transport. Eric instructed Slaughter to fire a dispersion bolt at the wormhole, and the rip in reality winked out. Eric aimed his energy cannon at the sighted Black Tail, which Mickey had marked with a red rectangle on the HUD, and he fired. The creature rained body parts down on the surr
ounding Red Tails.

  Slaughter dashed inside, joining the others packed into the central cargo bay.

  Manticore was still out there, fighting.

  “Manticore, let’s go!” Marlborough said.

  Manticore didn’t obey.

  Instead, he raced toward the next group of bioweapons that were cresting the rise. Two more Black Tails were at their lead, carrying the double-barreled wormhole weapons on their backs.

  Crusher started to leave the bay, and set foot on the ramp.

  Marlborough shot out a hand. “Let him go. He’ll provide a distraction while we take off. Dickson, launch.”

  The hull began to shake. As the ramp closed, the last sight Eric had of Manticore was of the Cicada, surrounded by several Red Tails; Manticore had ejected his damaged weapon mount, and instead wielded an alien spear in that hand. In the other hand he fired his heavy gun. He was cutting his way toward the two Black Tails.

  And then the ramp closed, sealing the Bolt Eaters into the cargo bay, and locking out Manticore.

  Forever.

  Godspeed, Manticore.

  A gentle hum filled the air, and Eric felt motion.

  “We’re airborne,” Dickson said. “We haven’t crashed yet. That’s a good sign.”

  “It always is,” Marlborough agreed.

  “Okay, we’re well away from the mountains,” Dickson said. “I’m taking us to high altitude, and slowly increasing speed to Mach 5. Hopefully our velocity won’t attract the attention of any alien bases.”

  “It probably will,” Marlborough said. “But I’m counting on them to ignore us. They still consider us hardly worth their attention. Mosquitoes buzzing past. They’ll soon learn the error of their ways.”

  “I’m detecting what looks like a small, localized swarm up ahead,” Dickson said. “Changing course and traveling higher to avoid.” He paused. “The swarm tried to pursue, but quickly turned around when they realized they couldn’t catch us.”

  Eric stared at his overhead map. Manticore’s indicator remained at the mine in the mountains, where it had frozen when they passed out of range.

  He realized that Marlborough was running his gaze across the Bolt Eaters. “We lost a good man today. For no reason other than the fact he couldn’t handle his own emotions. Let that be a reminder to you. Don’t let yourself fall into a dark pit that you can’t get out of. Call for help. Talk to us.”

  “Manticore already warned us he was close to losing it,” Brontosaurus said. “You see the good that did. You promised him we’d be able to talk him out of it. Didn’t quite work, did it?”

  Marlborough didn’t answer.

  “Manticore didn’t die for nothing,” Eric said. “He helped stall the bioweapons. If he hadn’t gone out there, those Black Tails would have closed the distance with the transport, and destroyed us with their wormhole weapons. Manticore saved us all.”

  “You’re rewriting history,” Slate said. “The Black Tails would have never reached us in time.”

  “No,” Crusher said. “I prefer to remember events the way Scorpion described them.”

  “As do I,” Brontosaurus said.

  Marlborough sighed, and sat back. “I bear full responsibility for what happened to him out there. The burden is mine. The next time one of you wants to leave the platoon, I’ll let you go no questions asked. I’m sorry for letting you all down.”

  “You didn’t let us down,” Eric said. “The fault was mine just as much as yours. I won’t let you share the burden alone.”

  “Neither will I,” Crusher said.

  Marlborough nodded. “Thank you.” His blue eyes faded away, turning dark as he drifted into VR.

  Eric didn’t blame him. He needed to rest his mind from all the crazy things that had happened in the last few hours himself.

  He waited about fifteen minutes, then logged off of real life.

  19

  Eric spent the first few hours of the flight in VR, in a Ravager test rig environment. He researched a bunch of different ideas on how to electrify the hull to protect against the termites, but there didn’t seem a way. Frogger and Brontosaurus had joined him at a certain point, but even when they put all of their heads together, they couldn’t come up with a solution, at least one that didn’t require completely replacing the hull. The exteriors of these particular mechs just weren’t as conductive as the Cicadas. There was nothing for it: he’d have to face the termites without any hull protection.

  He thanked Frogger and Brontosaurus, and then dismissed them from his environment. He changed the setting to a beach instead, and placed a big grill under a large umbrella. He then summoned a few virtual beach-goers, controlled by Dee, to add some background atmosphere, and got to work on creating something that was actually within his grasp, unlike the electrified hull. It was his final gift to the team. Or at least, a certain member.

  He slowed down his time sense, because he wanted to get this done while they were still far away from the storm front.

  When he was done, he restored time to its normal pace, and momentarily switched his viewpoint out of his body to check out his avatar. He made some tweaks—tucked in his belly, enlarged certain muscles, styled his hair—and then he issued the invitation to the team.

  One by one members of the Bolt Eaters popped into VR, using the human avatars they used when they weren’t in the real world. Slate, Dickson, Dunnigan, Brontosaurus… eventually all the surviving Mind Refurbs arrived, save for Marlborough.

  “Slate, the hell you doing here?” Eagleeye said when he appeared. He gave Slate a bro handshake.

  “You think I’m going to miss anything involving babes and chicken?” Slate said. “Uh, I don’t think so!” He glanced at Crusher’s bikini. “I like the threads, Sexy.”

  Crusher went up to Slate and ran a hand down his washboard abs. “Thanks. Maybe you and I should talk about it later.” She glanced at Eric as she said the latter, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

  Eric merely shrugged, looking away.

  “Why later?” Slate said. “How about we go in back and— hey!”

  Eric glanced back at them, and saw that Crusher had thrown Eric to the sand and stalked away.

  “So, you invited us to a barbecue before the mission, huh?” Mickey said. “A final gathering of the team before we save the world, or die trying.”

  “That’s right,” Eric said. “But we’re here to forget all that, at least for a few hours. We’re here to enjoy one another’s company. To bond with our brothers and sisters. It’s one of the luxuries of being machines. We can enjoy a good barbecue whenever we want. Even when we’re locked aboard a transport vessel thousands of miles above the surface of the Earth.”

  “Yeah, it’s like the shared dreams we used to do back when we were human,” Hicks said.

  “Shared dreams?” Frogger said. “I’ve never had a shared dream.”

  “Oh yeah, well, the tech for that arrived a little after you old guys died,” Hicks said.

  “I hear you’ve created a special hot chicken recipe for us,” Crusher said. Or more like purred.

  “I did, in fact,” Eric said.

  “I can’t wait to try your hot chicken,” Bambi said, stepping right inside Eric’s personal space.

  “Uh, yeah, it should be good.” Eric stepped back. Brontosaurus was gazing at him, wearing a knowing grin.

  They lined up in front of the barbecue. For each of the Bolt Eaters, Eric put a slice of bread into a paper plate, then retrieved a piece of chicken from the grill with his tongs and put it onto the bread. Each team member then walked to the condiments area, and usually grabbed another piece of bread, along with some coleslaw.

  When Mickey reached the condiments area, however, he squeezed a bunch of ketchup over his chicken.

  “Dude!” Eagleeye said. “You’re going to ruin the flavor.”

  “Nah,” Mickey said. “Everything tastes better with ketchup. Assuming Scorpion here has his flavor settings up to par. Usually umami is missing in
virtual ketchup.” Mickey dipped a finger into the sauce. “Actually, it’s not bad.” He dipped again. “It’s really good.”

  “Thank you,” Eric said. Slate was next in line, and Eric served him a piece of chicken.

  “Uh, can I get a few more pieces?” Slate said.

  “Sure,” Eric put another piece on his paper plate, above the bread.

  “How about a few more?” Slate said.

  “There’s not enough room on the bread,” Eric said.

  Slate reached over and grabbed another slice of bread from the condiment area, and smacked it down on his plate beside the other piece. Then he grinned at Eric, bearing the gold caps on his teeth.

  Eric put another piece onto the plate, on the new piece of bread.

  “What about those three you got sitting there all alone on the grill?” Slate said. “I think they deserve someone who loves them.”

  “But you haven’t even tried the chicken yet,” Eric said. “You don’t know if it’s good.”

  “Oh, I know I’ll like it,” Slate said. “I never met a chicken I didn’t like. Here.” He grabbed one of the pieces on his plate and took a bite. “Oh yeah. That’s good.” His eyes bulged slightly. “A bit hot, but hey. Now give me some more.”

  Eric grabbed another piece and tossed it onto Slate’s plate. “That’s it!”

  “Okay, okay,” Slate said. “Sheesh. Making me beg for chicken here.” He joined the others at the beach-side picnic table, which was situated underneath another umbrella.

  Eric filled the rest of the plates, and then grabbed some chicken for himself, along with bread and coleslaw. Then Eric materialized a beer, and sat down at the far end of the picnic table, closest to the shore. He took a bite of the chicken—it was hot, pleasantly so—and then downed a sip of beer.

  “This is great,” Hicks said. “You really out did yourself this time.”

  “Thank you,” Eric said.

  “Yeah,” Eagleeye said. “I don’t know how you got the flavor just right like this. I only ever had hot chicken once in my life, but it was exactly like this. Not as hot, mind you.”