by Isaac Hooke
He did so. Eric could see the individual termites composing each extension.
“They’re still micro machines,” Bambi said.
“Strange how they extend them like that, as if they’re feelers or something,” Traps said.
“Not feelers,” Dunnigan said. “Remember what my lieutenant colonel told you? How the termites protected themselves against ICBMs launched at them? They use these extensions to seek out and trigger any nukes before they reach the main body. It seems to be working quite well for them, given the clouds we saw behind us.”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” Tread said.
“Uh, speaking of nukes,” Slate said. “We might have a wee problem. Take a look at the forward cam.”
“Fuck,” Dickson said.
“Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is?” Marlborough said.
“Yep, it’s what you think it is,” Eagleeye said.
Eric switched to the forward camera, and was shocked by what he saw. The sky was covered with dark dots; each of them left an arcing trail of gray smoke behind them that looped out of view past the horizon. There were hundreds of those dots and their matching arc trails. Maybe thousands. Beyond them, he could see more dots cresting the far horizon, where a second wave was coming in.
“Uh, guess the humans haven’t given up after all,” Eagleeye said.
“They’ve spaced them in waves,” Tread said. “My guess is, they’re trying to compensate for the kamikaze tendrils formed ahead of the main termite swarm. Whether or not they’ll be successful or not is another story.”
“So many nukes,” Bambi said. “They’re going to start a nuclear winter.”
“That’s typical human behavior,” Crusher said. “If humanity can’t have the planet, then no one can.”
“It’s because of the males that run the government,” Bambi said. “They’re all warmongers.”
“That’s right, blame the males,” Slate said. “Need I remind you that you two females are among the meanest killers I’ve ever seen?”
“Why would they do this?” Crusher said, ignoring the comment. “The world is going to freeze from all the fallout.”
“My guess is the government figures they can develop technology to offset a nuclear winter,” Frogger said. “Whereas if they don’t destroy the termite swarm, then no technology will save them.”
The team was currently cutting across the path of the storm; below them, one of the tendrils spiraled outward rapidly, moving well ahead of the front.
“Whoa, where did they get the energy to move that fast?” Eric said.
“Maybe the termites can combine, and form other structures,” Brontosaurus said. “Like a launch cannon.”
“Either that, or they’re already carrying some sort of accelerator in their midst,” Mickey said.
The termite spear struck the closest nuke in front of them.
“Uh,” Slate said as the massive cloud began to form.
The transport was directly in its path.
“Dickson, evasive maneuvers!” Marlborough said. “Get us out of here!”
Dickson banked the craft hard, and Eric slammed into Slaughter this time, while Massacre hit him on the opposite side.
“This is why I never fly coach, people!” Slate quipped.
All of a sudden the entire cabin tilted sideways. A klaxon sounded; Eric experienced weightlessness. There was no feeling of nausea in his stomach, or anything like that: he just floated upward.
“We’ve been enveloped by the blast wave,” Dickson said. “It’s tipped us over. Probably a good thing—the heat shield underneath the body is the only thing protecting us at the moment.”
Eric tried to access an external camera, but saw only darkness. Dickson would be flying by LIDAR at the moment.
Gravity returned a moment later and Eric hit the ceiling. Other Cicadas dropped onto him from behind.
“Ugh!” Slate said. “Damn it, Frogger.”
“That was Tread,” Frogger said.
The alarm continued, sounding louder to Eric.
“Dickson...” Marlborough said.
“Almost got it...” Dickson said.
“If we hit the termite storm, we’re toast...” Brontosaurus said.
“Hitting the water isn’t any better,” Slate said.
“We’re waterproof up to five hundred meters,” Crusher said.
“Yeah, about that, we might be waterproof, but we’re not buoyant!” Slate told her.
“Anyone have any last confessions to make, since it seems we’re about to die?” Hicks said.
“Hey Eagleeye, I was sleeping with Vicky before you dumped her,” Slate said.
“What?” Eagleeye said. “You were the one who she was cheating on me with?”
“Uh huh,” Slate said.
“Damn it!” Eagleeye said. “I knew it! I’d kick your ass if we weren’t dead.”
“Who’s Vicky?” Frogger said.
“His virtual girlfriend,” Slate said.
“She’s human,” Eagleeye said. “I met her in VR between the last deployment. We never met in real life.”
“Anyone else?” Hicks said.
“I’m in love with Crusher,” Tread said.
“What?” Crusher said.
“Yeah, sorry,” Tread said.
“Nice,” Slate said. “I’ve always had the hots for Crusher myself, but can’t say I loved her. I’ve never loved any human being, in fact. Despite all the ladies I’ve been with.”
“What about the fembot you froze yourself with?” Eagleeye said.
“I loved her, of course,” Slate said. “But you’ll notice I said I’ve never loved any human being.”
“Hey,” Duncan said. “The G forces are so bad right now, that if we were human, we would have blacked out already.”
“I think we really are going to die,” Eagleeye said. “It was nice knowing you all.”
The external cameras cleared. Eric caught sight of the ocean, fast coming up below.
Eric was jerked back down as the cabin righted.
“Got it,” Dickson said.
The craft righted itself, and the ocean became level underneath them.
The incessant klaxon ended.
They were so low that behind them, tidal waves of water shot into the air in their wake. That meant they were still going extremely fast. Eric could see the expanding shock wave of the nuclear explosion behind them; it seemed to have stopped its advance, actually.
More explosions erupted ahead, and to the right, as more termite tendrils detonated the weapons early. Dickson turned east, gaining altitude once more, moving away from the ocean. He was plotting a course between the incoming missile waves.
Eric glanced at his overhead map. “We’ve overshot the island chain.”
“We have,” Dickson said. “We can’t go back now anyway. The whole chain was hit by one of the nukes. There won’t be anything left of it. I’m headed toward the next chain.”
“Maybe we don’t have to,” Slate said. “Maybe we can use the transport to act as our island, and just hover in place while we deploy the alien tech.”
“We talked about this before,” Dickson said. “The transport won’t be able to withstand the competing forces acting upon it. It’ll be torn apart. We’d need something military grade.”
“Head for the next island chain,” Marlborough said. “We have no choice.”
A new klaxon sounded. This one was slightly deeper in tone.
“What now?” Marlborough said.
“Got some bad news,” Dickson said. “The last nuke sprayed us with termites caught in the blast. We got a whole swarm of micro machines forming just inside the port fuselage. It’ll spread to the cabin in about five minutes, at this rate.”
22
Eric couldn’t help the dread that suffused him. They had five minutes before the micro machines began to consume them. The only other option was to evacuate the transport, but jumping into the ocean was the same as death: they’d sink right to the bottom
.
“Maybe we can electrify our skins and repel them all,” Slate said.
“Good luck with that,” Eagleeye said. “This transport has enough metal to create a swarm capable of draining your battery long before then. Besides, as soon as they eat away the floor, we got nowhere to go. Assuming they don’t digest the engines first.”
“I need some options, people,” Marlborough said.
“Can we return to the island chain?” Eric said. “Even if a nuke hit it, we’ll be able to handle the radiation… there might be some caves or other natural formations we can hide inside until the micro machines lose interest.”
“Even if there’s anything left of it,” Marlborough said. “We’ll have a helluva time finding any caves before the termite storm front arrives."
“This is interesting…” Dickson said.
“What have you got?” Marlborough asked.
“I’m receiving several ID signals,” Dickson replied.
“ID signals?” Marlborough said.
“That’s right. It’s from a human fleet. Forty-five kilometers ahead. Identifying themselves, I’ve got warships, an aircraft carrier, and a couple of nuclear submarines that apparently just surfaced. They’re fleeing the storm, it looks like. Well, and the nuclear strikes.”
“Send our own ID signals,” Marlborough said. “Make sure they don’t shoot us down!”
“I’ve dispatched the necessary military ID codes,” Mickey said. “Awaiting response…” A moment later: “They’ve confirmed our ID.”
“Good,” Marlborough said. “Dickson, set a course for that fleet, maximum speed. Mickey, Initiate comms.”
“I’ve got an Admiral Terrence James Grass III on the line,” Mickey said.
“This is Sergeant First Class Marlborough of the Bolt Eaters,” the Sarge said. “We’ve come a long way. We don’t have much time. We’ve got some alien tech aboard.”
“Bolt Eaters, did you say?” the admiral returned. “Never heard of you.”
“We’re an elite unit of Mind Refurbs, deployed in the Middle East,” Marlborough said.
“Ah, now I’ve heard of you,” the admiral said. “How the hell did you survive what happened there?”
“It’s a long story,” Marlborough said. “As I was saying, we’re short on time. But we’ve got some alien tech aboard that can stop this storm. We need a stable site where we can use it. We were thinking about your aircraft carrier...”
“I’m not sure I want alien tech aboard my flagship,” the admiral said.
“Well, we need a site with some mass, and the aircraft carrier fits the bill,” Marlborough said. “And unless you have any others in your flotilla, the flagship has to be where we land.”
“Tell me about this so-called alien tech, and what you intend to do,” the admiral said.
“I’m transmitting detailed specs on the tech now,” Marlborough said. “We’ve captured one of the micro machines, and two alien weapons.” He proceeded to explain his plan.
Admiral Grass didn’t answer immediately. Then: “You’re cleared for landing on the flagship.”
“Actually, we can’t land, per se,” Marlborough said. “This transport is infected with micro machines. We got maybe another four minutes until the termites breach the cabin. We’re going to have to transfer to your flagship the old fashioned way: by jumping.”
“Gotta love a good rappel without a rope!” Slate commented.
“You’re infected?” the admiral said. “I can’t let you aboard if you’re infected.”
“None of us personally are infected,” Marlborough said. “Our transport is. We’re going to ditch it after we board the flagship.”
“I don’t want that transport anywhere near my ship,” the admiral said. “I’ll send one of the Poseidons to get you.” A Poseidon was a small, autonomous warship that packed a deadly punch. “Once you’ve ditched the transport, and the AI confirms you’re clean, then you can rendezvous with my ship and board with this alien tech of yours.”
“Roger that,” Marlborough said.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do,” Grass said. “Whether or not it’s more than what we’ve been able to achieve up until this point remains to be seen, however. Admiral out.”
“How long until the termites reach the cabin?” Marlborough asked Dickson.
“Three minutes now,” Dickson replied.
“And how long until we reach the fleet?” Marlborough pressed.
“Also three minutes,” Dickson said.
“We’re going to be cutting it damn close,” Marlborough said.
“We always do, Sarge,” Slate said. “But that’s the way we like it.”
“No we don’t,” Eagleeye said. “Speak for yourself!”
The transport dove; overhead, ICBMs continued to arc through the sky, heading toward the storm in the distance behind them.
The craft leveled out at an altitude of a thousand meters; it moved rapidly, traveling at top speed.
Eric accessed the external nose cam, and watched as the fleet came up.
“I’m receiving telemetry,” Dickson said. “All right, got the Poseidon. I’m highlighting it on the overhead map.”
Eric glanced at his map. The transport was headed for a small green dot that had moved away from the others.
“We don’t need a gentle ride,” Marlborough said. “I want you to get as close as you can before cutting speed. We can’t afford to waste even a few seconds. Understood?”
“You got it,” Dickson said.
“How are we doing on the termite infection?” Marlborough asked.
“They’re multiplying rapidly,” Dickson replied. “They’ve almost reached the cabin.”
“Will we make it?” Marlborough said.
“I don’t know,” Dickson said. “I think so. I hope so.”
The Poseidon quickly approached on the external cam. It reminded Eric of navy vessels from his day, though it was maybe a little smaller—it had strange, sharp angles at the front and back. The starboard and port flanks curved upward until they met at the middle and formed a long dorsal fin that ran the length of the ship. His military database told him those were stealth features meant to evade radar and LIDAR.
Dickson abruptly slammed on the air brakes and fired reverse thrust at the same time. All the robots were jerked forward, slamming into the forward wall, and each other.
“Woohoo!” Slate said. “Can we do it again? Pretty please!”
“I got us hovering over the warship,” Dickson said. “I’ve lowered us to safe jumping distance.”
“Open up the ramp!” Marlborough said. “Bolt Eaters, we’re exiting the building!”
Mickey approached the edge. “Safe jumping distance? It’s about a hundred meters down!”
“Just jump, bro!” Slate shoved him off, and leaped after him. They dropped onto the small walkway located on the fin that ran the length of the warship, and quickly moved out of the way to allow the next team members to land.
Eric let the smaller robots jump off first, followed by Massacre and Slaughter. When the last Ravager was gone, he stepped down the ramp.
Dickson had left the transport hovering in place, running in autonomous mode. It had instructions to remain in place until the last of them had leaped off, and then it was to crash directly into the ocean, about a hundred meters off the rear of the Poseidon.
Unfortunately, the transport decided to initiate the crash early.
Eric guessed that was because the termites had taken one of the engines offline. Which would make sense, given that an alarm had sounded at the same time the transport careened precariously backwards.
Eric was taken off guard, and thrown away from the ramp. Before he could switch to Bullet Time, he had already smashed into the opposite wall. He sensed motion beside him, and saw that termites had eaten through the metal surface and were entering the cabin, devouring as they went. He activated his jumpjets, heading toward the open ramp, when he was thrown once ag
ain, this time smashing into the forward section of the cabin. Water began to spew inside from the open ramp.
He activated Bullet Time and jetted away from the termites and toward the opening, but hit a solid wall of water. The transport’s momentum had already carried it underwater.
Eric thrust into the sea; his jumpjets promptly shut down—the design on these particular mechs wasn’t suited for underwater operation.
He oriented himself toward the surface with the help of his gyroscopes, and pushed off from the sinking transport. He tried moving his arms and legs in an attempt to swim, but it was no use—he was simply too heavy.
Mechs and robots didn’t float.
He sunk, along with the transport behind him.
Eric couldn’t believe he was going to end this way. Drowned in the ocean, only a few moments away from saving the world.
No, my team won’t let me die.
The surface was only about twenty meters above him. So close, and yet so far. That distance became greater as he watched. Thirty meters. Forty.
His conviction that the team would save him began to waver, and for a moment he despaired.
But then motion drew his eye toward a figure jetting toward him at a diagonal angle from the surface.
Eric slumped in relief. That’s right, he was a Ravager mech, and he was slumping in relief.
“I gotcha, mate,” Dunnigan transmitted.
“Thank you,” Eric said. Hopper models evidently had jetpacks capable of undersea operation.
When Dunnigan reached him, he wrapped a carbon fiber cord around him. “Got this secured to an industrial grade winch on the Poseidon. Basically, we disconnected one of the ship’s anchors to get access to the cord alone.”
“So I’m the anchor now, you’re saying,” Eric said. “Wonderful.”
“I always liked you American blokes,” Dunnigan said. “Mostly because you’re able to maintain your sense of humor even during a crisis. Marlborough, take us up.”
“Reeling you boys in,” Marlborough said over the comm.
Eric felt a diagonal pull, and he was drawn rapidly through the ocean.
Eric surfaced near the prow, just above the water line. Dunnigan detached the carbon fiber cord. Eric’s jumpjets hadn’t recovered yet, so he climbed the tiny metal rungs meant for humans and smaller robots; he skipped three of them at a time, and gripped them with the tips of his big fingers.
