by Ben Wolf
The android’s remaining hand slammed into the floor where Samson’s chest had just been, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the concrete. Samson sawed it in half at its waist with another spurt of pulse rounds and a litany of profanity.
“Form up!” Captain Mitchell’s words cut through the fracas. “Protect Mr. Andridge!”
The firing around Justin stopped, and he felt exposed. He rolled away from a custodial android and pumped six pulses into its body as he got up to his feet.
But it kept coming toward him, even though molten metal and melted Plastrex dripped from fresh holes in its torso. Justin’s repeater beeped at him.
The android launched toward him, and he shielded himself with his robot arm.
CLANG.
A pipe hammered the android’s torso, knocking it clean out of the air.
Dirk rushed over to where it landed and smashed the pipe into its chest with one hard blow, sending Plastrex chips flying. Then he jammed the end of it into the android’s chest. Its blue light extinguished, and it stopped moving.
“Behind you!” Justin shouted.
Dirk whirled around and clocked one of the loading dock androids in what would’ve been its jaw. Its head snapped clean off and tumbled away, but the android just staggered back a step and then kept coming at Dirk, its yellow light still glowing from its chest, hands, and ankles.
Justin lined up his shot, fired a pulse at the android’s knee, and hit his mark. It tore into the metal joint, and the android stumbled again.
Dirk slammed his pipe into that same leg, and its knee fractured and buckled. The android went down, but this time Dirk backed away and let it crawl around.
Justin’s repeater beeped again. Five percent charge remained. He swore under his breath.
Justin glanced around. Pinch lay in a pool of blood to Justin’s right, his eyes vacant, his body motionless. A fist-sized hole in his chest oozed red. The sight twisted Justin’s stomach.
The remaining IPMs—nine or ten of them—had pulled back and formed a protective shield around Carl Andridge and Noby, who returned fire along with the IPMs.
Of course they’d stick close to the man with the money. No one else’s lives mattered when Carl owned 8.4 percent of the galaxy.
A shriek sounded to Justin’s left. Etya lay on her back with a custodial android leaning over her. Its blue light illuminated the human side of her face, now full of anger, confusion, and anguish. She reached toward it with her prosthetic hand as it raised its arms.
The android didn’t immediately strike at her, and a blast of pulse rounds annihilated its arms and head. It turned, and Stecker finished it off with a barrage of shots to its chest. It toppled backward and hit the concrete with a heavy clank.
Stecker extended his left arm toward Etya, but she got up on her own instead.
“Run!” someone yelled.
Justin saw the IPMs, Noby, and Carl rushing toward the hatch. They’re just going to leave us here to die?
Like hell, they are.
He started to follow them, but something grabbed the back of his shirt. Justin whirled around and raised his repeater, only to find Harry there.
“Wait!” Harry shouted.
The hiss of an air-compressed engine gouged Justin’s eardrums, and a construction-orange blur barreled past him. One of the forklifts.
Its yellow lights flashing, the forklift shot toward the hatch with abandon. Half of the IPMs had already reached it and were trying to get it open.
Justin gasped as the forklift, which had to weigh half a ton or more, slammed into them at full speed, forks extended.
Metal screeched and crunched as men screamed and died. It had crushed at least three of the IPMs, and Captain Mitchell hurried the remaining few away from the hatch.
The forklift pulled back, revealing its bent, twisted forks and the mangled remains of the three IPMs splattered across its front. It started to follow the IPMs.
“Pull back!” Captain Mitchell shouted. “Retreat!”
“Don’t just stand there!” Harry shoved him. “Run!”
“Where?” Justin genuinely had no idea.
“Back to the grav lift!”
Justin didn’t know what they’d do once they got there, but it was better than staying put.
The other forklift still blocked the opposite end of the thoroughfare, so Justin followed Harry back into the shelves.
Where Shannon and the others had ended up, he didn’t know. At this point, he couldn’t allow himself to care. He just had to escape.
At least half of the androids still remained, and they all continued to pursue their human prey. Harry cut to the right, into the rows of shelves, but he’d turned too abruptly, and Justin couldn’t follow him in time.
So Justin took the next row, shot out the legs of a medbay android that stood in his way, watched it fall chest-first to the floor, and jumped over it.
Halfway down the row, a grouping of red lights dropped into Justin’s path. A kitchen android.
As it approached, Justin saw a kitchen knife in its right hand. It had a familiar gash over his left eye.
It was Groucho.
Amid the rattling of gunfire, the shouts, and the shouts reverberating throughout the loading dock, Groucho started toward Justin.
Justin glanced behind him. The legless medbay android was crawling toward him from that end of the row.
When he faced forward again, Groucho had closed half the distance between them, but it still wasn’t moving fast. Was it stalking him?
“You wanna carve out a piece of me? Well, I’ve got something for you, Groucho.” Justin raised his repeater and fired.
It just beeped at him. The small readout displayed a red zero, and its flashlight function switched off, casting him into darkness. Only the red light from Groucho glowed ahead of him and the white light from the medbay android glowed behind him.
He swore and hurled the repeater at Groucho.
It just clanked off of Groucho’s chest.
Then the knife in Groucho’s hand whirled in a circle as it had back in the kitchen, when it came at Justin before. And, like last time, Justin didn’t have anything to defend himself with.
His eyes widened. His arm. The energy blade.
Justin balled the fingers of his prosthetic hand into a fist at his side and squeezed.
Groucho drew his arm back to strike.
An orange blade materialized from Justin’s wrist and beyond his hand, sizzling in the air.
Groucho lunged toward him, his knife whirring like a rotor.
Justin ducked under it, slashed the energy blade at any part of Groucho he could hit, and rolled.
He found himself on the other side of Groucho. He whirled back and saw Groucho’s right forearm hanging from his elbow by a couple of wires.
The knife had stopped spinning, but Groucho still held it in his hand as he turned toward Justin again.
Justin’s right cheek stung. He dabbed at it with his left hand, and he found blood on his fingers. Groucho must’ve cut him.
Groucho sprung forward again, and Justin sidestepped and sliced at him again. The energy blade seared through Groucho’s torso, and he hit the floor in two pieces. Now detached from his legs and with only one functioning arm, Groucho could only crawl toward Justin.
He latched on to Justin’s pant leg and looked up at him with those same hellfire red eyes as he had in the kitchen.
“How’s this for knifework?” Justin drove the energy blade through Groucho’s back.
Groucho convulsed once, went rigid, and slumped flat on the floor. His fingers opened, and Justin stepped free of his grasp.
The medbay android had gotten closer. Justin glanced back at it, opened his fist to retract the energy blade, and then ran down the row of shelves toward the grav lift instead of fighting it. He stopped and collected the Nebrandt plant and the copper wire from the top of his spent repeater and tucked it all into the back pocket of his pants.
The battle still r
aged around him, but he wove through the shelves back to the grav lift. Something—probably one of the forklift androids, had positioned a massive shipping container in front of the maintenance access door. They wouldn’t be getting out that way.
Worse still, the grav lift doors had closed.
Somehow Shannon, Garth, Harry, Connie, Candy, Dirk, and Reggie had all made it back. Then Stecker, Etya, Carl, and Noby rounded a row of shelves ahead of Captain Mitchell and six remaining IPMs.
The androids continued to pursue them, jumping atop shelves and shipping containers, leaping down, and chasing them on foot. The IPMs fired at them, but it barely slowed their approach.
As Stecker and Etya reached the grav lift, the nearest shelf began tipping over, right toward Carl, Noby, Captain Mitchell, and the IPMs.
“Watch out!” someone yelled from behind Justin.
They all cleared the shelf except for the two IPMs at the back of the group. It smashed down on them, and they screamed. Then they went silent.
The IPMs kept shooting, occasionally firing their grenade rounds at them as well. When those hit, they proved the most effective, but Justin had to wonder how many more grenade rounds the IPMs had.
“We need to get out of here. We’ll be overrun,” Stecker said.
Harry said, “We need to get back to the mine. We can get out through the ventilation system.”
“Then why are we just standing here?” Captain Mitchell snapped.
“I’m trying to get the doors open!” Garth continued working the access terminal next to the lift’s doors. “I just need a bit more time.”
Carl gawked at him. “How the hell did you, of all people, make it this far?”
Yet within ten seconds, Garth got the doors open.
Justin rushed forward but stopped short, right on the edge of the grav lift shaft. The grav lift wasn’t at the top anymore. His knees buckled, and he started tilting into the chasm below.
Stecker grabbed his shirt and hauled him backward, then he turned and fired his rifle at the androids again.
“The lift isn’t there!” Shannon yelled.
“The grav lift reset,” Garth shouted back. “It’s down on the first floor again!”
“Then bring it back up!” Captain Mitchell hollered.
“No time for that,” Harry shouted. “They’re right on top of us!”
“Move to the maintenance shaft. Use the ladders again,” Stecker hollered.
Justin peered into the shaft. “We can’t. Without the grav lift platform, there’s no way over there. It’s too far to jump.”
“Secure cables,” Captain Mitchell ordered between shots. “We’ll rappel down.”
“It’s two miles to the bottom!” Harry said. “Your cables won’t reach that far.”
“We’re gonna find out one way or another,” Captain Mitchell replied.
Two of the IPMs set out to fulfill Captain Mitchell’s mandate.
Gunfire filled the air, and bullets rattled the shipping container next to them.
Justin dropped low, trying to find cover, but they were exposed. The other two guard bots. It had to be them, but Justin couldn’t see them.
“Get down!” a female voice yelled.
Candy shoved Connie to the ground, out of harm’s way.
Then dozens of rounds dug into Candy’s body. Blood erupted from her torso and thighs.
Connie screamed as Candy hit the floor. Amid the gunfire, she reached out and cradled Candy’s bloody body in her lap, wailing and crying.
Justin couldn’t believe it. He stared at Candy with his mouth open.
Connie’s red eyebrows arched down. She snarled, and she reached into what remained of Candy’s hooded sweatshirt. She extracted the chrome egg-thing, now streaked with blood.
It was a grenade.
When Connie stood up, Justin knew exactly what she was going to do.
“No, Connie!” he yelled.
Connie pressed the mechanism at the top of the grenade with her thumb, and she flicked the striker off. It clinked on the cement floor, and she ran full speed toward the gunfire.
Justin called after her again, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t stop.
She made it halfway before the first bullets hit her. They tore into her—through her—and cut her down within a few feet of them.
The grenade rolled out of her extended hand, toward the guard bots, and exploded. The blast reduced the guard bots and Connie’s body to nothing.
Justin cupped his head with his hands. My God. What is happening? What am I seeing?
“Everyone into the shaft!” Captain Mitchell bellowed.
Dirk yanked Justin to his feet and shoved him toward the shaft. The instant Justin looked down into it, the familiar sensation of vertigo overwhelmed his malaise over Connie and Candy.
The shaft yawned open, the dark mouth of a beast eager to devour him. His vision started to spin.
“Grab the damned cable, or we’re leaving you behind!” someone shouted in his ear.
Justin blinked, and his vision focused on a black cable accented with reflective green stripes that hung before him. He looked up. Somehow, the IPMs had managed to secure two cables to the ceiling.
He looked down. Etya, Stecker, Garth, Carl, and Noby were climbing down the cable in front of him, and Reggie, Dirk, Harry, Shannon, and two of the IPMs climbed down the other one.
“Move, then!” Captain Mitchell shoved Justin aside and took hold of some sort of clamping device attached to the cable. Corporal Samson, bruised and haggard, grabbed the other one, as did Private Landry.
As Captain Mitchell slid down, Justin grabbed the next clamp as well. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, remembered the priest’s call for courage, and stepped off the edge of the shaft.
The clamp and the cable wobbled in his grip, but he stayed put. He opened his eyes and looked down. The vertigo returned, hard. He closed his eyes again and shook the feeling away. When he opened his eyes, he was facing the loading docks.
A half-dozen androids were running straight at him.
Eyes wide, Justin loosened his grip on the clamp and began to slide down the cable.
The more he squeezed the clamp, the slower he descended. But he didn’t want to go slowly—not with androids chasing them. He kept holding it with his prosthetic hand, but he loosened it to go faster, and he slid down until his feet hit something below.
Captain Mitchell slung curses up at him and snapped, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Justin looked down at him, and his vision swirled again. “They’re following us!”
Captain Mitchell opened his mouth as if to respond, but then he shut it. His eyes fixed on something above Justin, and he pointed his rifle upward.
Justin’s eyes widened, and he tried to lean out of Captain Mitchell’s line of fire.
Captain Mitchell’s pulse rifle blasted a myriad of shots around Justin, and a kitchen android slammed into the shaft wall beyond him. Its body riddled with holes, it tried to grip something, anything it could along the shaft wall, but it found no purchase.
It grabbed ahold of Corporal Samson’s armor on the way down and latched onto his waist.
“Get it off me!” he hollered, all while trying to shake the android free.
The android’s fingers reached up and found Samson’s collar, and its other hand reached for Samson’s face.
Private Landry slid lower on the cable and tried kicking at the android, but it didn’t have any effect. Why he didn’t just grab his rifle and use it, Justin didn’t know.
The android’s fingers dug into Samson’s face, and he released his grip on the cable clamp. His rifle fired off a burst of pulse rounds as he fell, taking the android with him. The pulses whizzed past Justin’s head, and one struck Private Landry’s hip.
Private Landry cried out and pressed his hand against his hip, but he managed to maintain his grip.
Samson’s desperate shouts echoed down the shaft.
They’d advanced a
bout a quarter of the way down the shaft before the next androids came. Rather than grabbing the cables or trying to cut them, the androids leaped into the shaft and dove at them like harpoons.
A custodial android managed to grab Reggie’s leg on the way down. Reggie kicked and flailed, but the android held on. Above him, Dirk reached for his pipe.
Justin didn’t know how it happened, but the android twisted Reggie’s leg the wrong way. Reggie wailed, and he lost his grip on the cable clamp and slid down, farther away from Dirk.
“Reggie!” Dirk shouted. He started sliding down after him, but he didn’t progress fast enough.
Reggie clung to the cable clamp, but the android climbed up his body and straddled him like a backpack. Its arms hooked under Reggie’s armpits, and its hands crept behind his head. He yelled, but the pressure on his neck broke his hold on the cable clamp, and he dropped into the shaft with the android still clinging to his back.
Dirk yelled and reached down for him, but it was far too late.
Yellow light flashed in Justin’s periphery. He turned in time to see a big maintenance android careening toward him.
He switched his grip to his left hand, balled his prosthetic fist, and extended his energy blade. Justin swung it at the android’s head as it torpedoed at him, and at the same time, he kicked off the shaft wall.
The blade severed part of the android’s head and its left shoulder from its torso, but it grabbed the cable near Justin with its other hand.
Careful not to hit the cable itself, Justin shifted his hips and brought the blade down on the android’s right wrist, separating it from its hand. It waved its useless, sparking arm as it fell, its yellow lights tracing its descent into the void.
Private Landry and Captain Mitchell shot down the second android with lots of difficulty, and it, too, plummeted into android hell.
Above them, more androids entered. As they bounced down the walls, Justin tried to hack at some of them, but none came near enough.
One grabbed Captain Mitchell’s armor just as the kitchen android had done to Corporal Samson. Justin tried to descend faster so he could help.
But Captain Mitchell jerked the android to the side, pinned its head to the shaft wall with his left boot, and unloaded five blasts into its chest. Its grip slackened, and it tumbled down the shaft like a rag doll.
