Lyssa's Dream - A Hard Science Fiction AI Adventure (The Sentience Wars - Origins Book 1)

by James S. Aaron

 

  Andy said.

  Jickson asked.

  Ngoba looked annoyed for the first time. He raised a gloved hand to quiet the other man.

  Jickson didn’t seem to get the message.

  Ngoba said, tension edging his voice.

  Andy watched the two men as it became obvious that Ngoba Starl didn’t like Dr. Jickson.

  Karcher said from the top of the cargo stack.

  came Tim’s voice over the local Link channel.

  Andy’s heart went through his throat. he barked. The only way they could be listening in was if Cara had hacked the ship’s communication system. He hadn’t specifically told her not to, but he had never shown her how to do it, either. She must have set up a relay. How had she figured out how to do that?

  Dr. Jickson demanded.

  Andy said. He turned his focus on Ngoba, the man in charge.

  Ngoba nodded, brown eyes looking even more interested now. he said, sounding slightly too familiar.

 

  He hoped Starl would do the reasonable thing and leave. Unless there was something else they wanted, there was no reason for them to wait for the transport drones. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that they’d want to erase all evidence of their cargo arriving from Kalyke, which might have been the reason they chanced it on Sunny Skies in the first place. He swallowed, glancing toward Karcher and Stansil, who were now standing on top of the stacked crates. Each had his rifle back in his hands.

  Ngoba’s helmet was nodding as though he agreed with Andy, as if Andy had said something profound that had changed the man’s way of thinking.

  Ngoba said.

  He was interrupted by an alert from the main airlock control. An audible klaxon came to life and the ship sent out an alert on the safety net that the main airlock would be opening in thirty seconds. The Cruithne Port Authority transport drones had arrived.

  Chapter Ten

  STELLAR DATE: 08.24.2981 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Sunny Skies

  REGION: Port Authority, Cruithne Station, Terran Hegemony

  Andy breathed a sigh of relief even as his suit notified him he only had eighty percent atmospheric integrity. Several pinholes he’d missed had joined and split. His suit might be hissing like a tea kettle but the drones arriving early meant he could get these people off the ship that much faster. Ngoba Starl acted like a typical gangster while something about Dr. Jickson put a sick feeling in the bottom of Andy’s stomach, especially when he perked up at the possibility of the kids being on board.

  he told Starl.

 

  Deactivating his mag boots, Andy kicked-off toward the wall control panel next to the main cargo airlock. The wide doors and frames were scarred by years of drones scraping into them during loading procedures.

  Andy’s suit wouldn’t connect to the exterior sensors, so he had pulled up the wall display. Sifting through menus, he found the raw data stream from the exterior lock and scanned through the values. He frowned, the outside signatures were much larger than what he would have expected from a cloud of loading drones ready to grab crates. The sensor data looked more like another ship.

  he asked Starl.

 

 

  From the top of the stack of crates, Karcher and Stansil immediately dropped to a knee and pulled up their rifles.

  Starl let out a low chuckle.

  Jickson didn’t answer immediately. He was too far away for Andy to see his expression through his faceplate. The doctor appeared to be floating, arms loose, and was probably engaged in a Link conversation that Andy couldn’t hear.

  Andy said.

  Jickson answered.

  Andy said to Starl.

  Andy watched the panel count down to the security handshake with the outside entity while trying to think of the best course of action. Regardless of the presence of the other ship, there were Port Authority drones outside communicating with Sunny Skies. The process completed and the panel verified the shipping manifest, the last step that allowed the drones to arrange themselves for best removal of the cargo. From Sunny Skies, they would ferry crates to points all across Cruithne Station.

  If someone wanted to steal cargo, that was the easiest point to grab it; track the drone and pluck it out of space between the cargo ship and the station.

  Andy had served on station patrol duty enough times to know all the various ways pirates and gangs stole cargo. The smoothest he had ever seen had been a hacker who had rerouted cargo at Eris. If he’d only taken one crate at a time, and been better at checking manifests for high-value shipments, no one would have realized what he’d been doing. But the kid had gotten greedy and run a whole line of drones into an unused port.

  All Andy had had to do was follow the train to their destination. It would have been enough to recover the cargo, but the teenage pirate had been ready and waiting in an EVA suit when Andy had arrived. The kid had soiled his suit.

  So, attacking a ship didn’t make much sense. It could mean whoever was outside didn’t have the shipping manifest and wanted to search through the cargo before it left, or they wanted the crew, too. Or they wanted Starl and Jickson.

  Once the security verification finished, the cargo doors would open and he’d have two sets of gangsters on the ship. The kids were listening in and knew to hide, but what good was that going to do in the long run?

  Andy pulled up the override instructions and manually entered his security codes. he said.

  Starl said with more calm than Andy would have expected.

  Andy said.

  Jickson answered.

  The two security heavies had moved to the deck, positioning themselves on either edge of the stack, mostly hidden behind crates. Any rudimentary scan of the bay would find them but at least they weren’t in the open anymore. They were all vulnerable once the main door opened.

  The panel squawked an alarm and Andy directed his attention back to the security display. His token had been overridden. He pushed his face closer to the numbers, trying to understand what was happening.

  Andy said in a low voice.

  St
arl chuckled again.

  Jickson said, an irritating whine snaking through his voice.

  Andy yelled. His voice still sounded small over the Link.

  The main cargo bay door screeched and there was a rush of hissing atmosphere as a gap appeared at its base. Andy watched the gap widen, black appearing on the other side. He glanced toward the door leading back into the ship. Both Jickson and Starl were between him and the inner corridor.

  Whatever was going to happen, he didn’t need to be part of it. Andy released his mag boots and kicked toward the inner door.

  Starl asked.

 

  Jickson said.

 

  Jickson said.

 

  Starl said, controlled urgency entering his voice. He had turned to face the half-open door, holding his pistol in a ready position.

  The first cargo drone, a jumble of black squares and blinking lights, ducked through the opening and zipped into the bay. Others followed like bees finding a flower bush. The overhead reflected their flashing lights in hundreds of different colors, which probably corresponded with their destination ports.

  Drones that would have to wait for cargo at the bottom of the stack floated up to the overhead and stopped moving, while others positioned themselves above crates, engaged magnetic locks, and lifted straight up. Drones and crates began leaving the bay for the wall of black outside.

  Several drones had just left when Andy saw Stansil poke his helmet around his remaining stack of crates. The man quickly aimed his rifle and fired, lighting the bay with a pulse beam.

  The shot was answered by three crackling beams in a tight formation that splashed off the crate beside Stansil, narrowly missing the drones working near the bay door. Stansil had already rolled to another position.

  More pulse fire followed, lighting the gaps between the drones. Whoever was firing apparently didn’t want to harm the cargo. The drones seemed simultaneously oblivious to the incoming fire and appeared to dance around it like the whole thing was choreographed somehow.

  Starl was barking orders over the link for Stansil and Karcher to lay down covering fire. Jickson had moved closer to Andy.

  the doctor said, pointing at the weapon in Andy’s hand.

  Andy looked down at it, not remembering that he had drawn it. Old habits died hard, he supposed. He checked the action and charge levels quickly. It would work for taking out a drone but wouldn’t do much against anyone wearing armor.

  Jickson demanded.

  Andy ignored him and crouched beside the panel. The incoming fire was growing brighter, meaning whoever was closing on their position was nearly inside.

  came a gravelly voice over the Link.

  Starl’s chuckle answered.

  The plasma fire intensified, an odd counterpoint to the banter over the Link, which sounded cold and friendly at the same time. A charge caught one of the drones rising toward the open door and it spun in a slow circle before dropping its crate and crashing into the nearby wall.

  Andy looked from Starl and Jickson to the two security guards. They were all focused on the incoming fire. He shot a glance at the interior door and then kicked off along the wall. He was moving into the open but all the fire was concentrated on Karcher and Stansil at the stack of crates. Another drone fell and Andy groaned inwardly, not wanting to think about how he was going to navigate the insurance payouts.

  If he could reach the door and get through it before they noticed he was moving, he could activate a security lock that would at least slow them down. Port Authority override codes might work on the exterior doors but he could set interior doors to whatever he wanted. If they chose to bother with cutting through the door, it would at least slow them down long enough to give him time to get the heavier weapons and tell the kids what to do.

  A plasma bolt caught Stansil in the leg and his suit released a spray of gases. His scream filled the Link.

  the voice Starl had called Zanda said.

  Starl growled. He was crouched behind a dropped crate.

 

  Starl echoed. His helmet was turned toward where Stansil was struggling to get a patch on his leg. The vacuum around him was full of floating orbs of blood. Another bolt caught Stansil directly in the chest. He jerked, the force of the blast throwing him backward but when he hit the wall behind him he was still.

  Starl growled.

  As Andy approached the interior hatch, he could now look back through the open bay door and outside the ship. A shuttle was visible about a hundred meters out, a black rectangle with smoothed edges. Lights flashing off faceplates and the lines of plasma bolts showed him the people moving in EVA suits between the shuttle and the open door. A loose line of drones carried crates out into the dark between the lines of fire.

  It looked like the attackers had formed a ragged line and were moving forward in teams, one firing as the other advanced. He took another look at the interior door—calculating how long it would take him to get to the weapons crate near the habitat—then glanced at Stansil’s body floating against the far wall, his rifle still dangling from one hand. It would take Andy too long to get through the ship to the TSF crate and back. He was going to have to use what was available.

  Chapter Eleven

  STELLAR DATE: 08.24.2981 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Sunny Skies

  REGION: Port Authority, Cruithne Station, Terran Hegemony

  The pulse bolts were coming in a predictable pattern from left to right. Whoever the attackers were, they had good firing discipline. Andy waited a minute to make sure he was right about their pattern, then kicked off across the room until he had cover behind the closest crate. Without waiting, he moved again until he reached Stansil’s body. Several of the floating orbs of blood splashed against his chest.

  Andy activated his mag boots and crouched, pulling Stansil down next to him. He untangled the rifle and grabbed three grenades off the man’s outer harness, as well as three extra magazines. He jammed everything into the pouch on the front of his suit with his pistol.

  The rifle was a variant of models he’d used in the space force. He checked the active sights and cursed when his suit couldn’t connect with the targeting system. He pulled the stock into his shoulder and lowered the muzzle to rescan the line of attackers.

  They were less than a hundred meters out now. He raised the rifle and fired at the first faceplate he spotted in the dark.

  A spray of gas told him he’d hit his target. Andy immediately kicked off to take another firing position. A drone blocked his view for a second, and then he took two shots, following the bright muzzle flashes.

  Zanda demanded.

  Starl answered. />
  Andy had lost sight of Starl behind a crate. Jickson was still huddled in the corner near the control panel, out of the lines of fire altogether. He wouldn’t be able to see what was going on unless the four of them had been using a battle net.

  Continuing to use the dwindling stack of crates as cover, Andy tracked the incoming suits and picked them off one by one. He moved and reloaded, then nearly found himself exposed when a drone lifted away the crate he was hiding behind.

  He kicked off the floor and took two shots as he moved. The rifle was a joy to use. Little recoil and a minimal cool-down period. Its active sights grabbed movement and highlighted targets, redirecting fire when Andy’s aim was off. All he had to do was pull the trigger, and if his suit had been able to talk to the weapon, he doubted he’d even have needed to do that. It felt too good to have this kind of rifle back in his hands, working like it was supposed to.

  Starl was laughing across the link, his voice deep and oddly comforting. As Andy moved, calculated, fired and repositioned, the background laughter made his calm seem not quite so robotic.

  He burned a hole through another suit that was trying to use an outgoing drone as cover and Zanda cursed over the link.

 

  the gangster said, still laughing.

  Zanda said.

 

  Andy glanced at Stansil’s floating body at the back of the bay. Of course, gangsters didn’t care about their own.

  There was a flare of thruster fire as the shuttle lit its engine and turned, then disappeared into the black. The drones floating out the bay doors didn’t stop moving. The bay would be empty soon.

  Starl asked.

 

  Starl said, ignoring the question.