Dawn of the Courtezan: Phase 01 (The Eighteenth Shadow)

by Grafton, Jon Lee

  Dax, Hugo and William were all in the Solar Mule, rolling far behind on slow, old fashioned wheels. Dorothy locked the aft cam on the Kawasaki’s Ipv7, then returned pad control to the drone’s primary nose lens. She increased magnification. The silver hovcar was now easy to see. Two Douglas County Sheriff’s A7 combat drones had their searchlights fixed on it, one flying in front, one behind, the units obviously being controlled by a human hand. The drone driver was attempting to blind the Mustang’s pilot.

  She quickly typed a citizen ID request into the tangible holokeys. An image of the operator’s face appeared on the lower right monitor accompanied by the following text; Tara A. Dean, WANTED – Federal Bmod Fugitive / Vehicular Arson / Cyber Terrorism. This holograph was paired with a running string of data that Dorothy didn’t have time to examine.

  Her brow furrowed with concern. The Coyote Pack was still invisible.

  Why can’t I see them?

  She magnified the grid where they should be by an additional 50%. Nothing. The clouds parted, moonlight softly illuminating the winter lands. She magnified again, 90%. This time she drew in a breath and held it. There they were, terrifying looking creatures, all but one running with blackened eyes.

  She zoomed out. The Coyotes would intercept the Mustang before their DOGS units arrived. They had not been represented on the wide angle hologram because only the single blue vidorb of Coyote One was eerily illuminated. She led the other seventeen cyborgs behind her in a silent, focused charge. They galloped blind, single file behind their packmaster. The small gray paws of each Coyote unit landed lightly, one after the other in the exact spot where the cyborg before it had stepped. This left a trail that even to an experienced hunter would look like the course of a single animal.

  Dorothy maximized her drone’s holoview of Coyote One. The small cyborg’s jowls were flared with menace. Her BIOSKIN© coat was ripped in spots along her legs and head. Some of the wounds were roughly scabbed. Others bled openly. Dark synthblood stains mottled her heathered fur.

  Why aren’t they healing?

  Joan’s voice filled the com, “Coyote Pack will impact hovcar KS4-137 in five, four, three, two…”

  Dorothy shifted focus, constraining the high resolution holomap to a forty meter perspective over the impending crash.

  All at once, the eyes of each Coyote illuminated. They broke single file formation. The main body of the pack held back while the four lead cyborgs leapt the irrigation ditch at the edge of the hovroad and charged the Mustang. Each impacting animal contorted into a tight ball in the final second before collision.

  In the simultaneous moment, three explosions of light erupted on the far side of the hovcar, doonk! – doonk – doonk!

  “Rear A7 law enforcement drone has fired Faraday projectiles,” said Joan flatly.

  The electrical dampening micro-torpedoes disabled the Mustang’s port stabilization fans, causing it to careen sharply left, minimizing the Coyotes’ impact. Instead of ripping through the aluminum door panel, the animals tumbled across the asphalt, the weakened effect of their momentum pushing the hovering Mustang into a mid-air flip.

  So many different events converged in the 120 second span of time following the crash that Dorothy couldn’t possibly track them all. Many times over the coming days they would replay the holovid, analyzing each moment in high definition.

  The Ford Mustang GT auto-ejected its operator, encasing her body in an emergency collision sphere that launched airborne as the roof supports exploded and the vehicle toppled end over end like a skipping stone across the adjacent corn field. Showers of sparks illuminated the blackness. The primary levfans sucked up basketball sized chunks of plowed earth, flinging them high into the night as the Mustang’s crumpled roof slammed down onto the shoulder, landing on one of the Coyotes, crushing a rear leg. The entire pack howled in alarm.

  The collision sphere itself bounced and bounced and bounced. It rolled erratically down the asphalt into the fields north of the hovway.

  Purple Tree Farms’ property, thought Dorothy.

  The fourteen Coyotes who had not impacted the vehicle intently pursued the sphere. They yipped with excitement as it bounced a dozen more times, tossing clouds of dust and finally coming to a halt hundreds of meters away in a shallow ravine.

  Four spotlights emanating from the A7 sheriff’s drones tracked the sphere and the crushed shape of the Mustang itself. The unmanned aircraft circled to a stable hover. Once stabilized, swarms of botulinum darts whistled from launch ports along the drone bellies, harmlessly sticking in the external skin of the collision sphere.

  Still functioning on automated response. What moron is flying those bots?

  Several darts were also directed at the Coyotes’ unregistered fusion signatures. The glass tubes of neurotoxin shattered on their anvil hard bodies. Some of the diamond tipped injection needles remained, dangling like the tops of broken wine bottles in the cyborgs’ ragged, gray BIOSKIN©. The Coyotes paid the sheriff’s drones no heed. Their intent was focused on the collision sphere.

  The first to arrive at its resting place began clawing at the lightweight, puncture resistant fabric made of microweave plastisilk. As the animal became excited, the others yipped in chorus. Dorothy watched as they ripped chunks of the pliable material with their mouths and tried to spit it out, pawing frenetically at their teeth. The collision sphere was kept semi-rigid by an expanding, elastiframe endoskeleton. Each section of frame contained millions of fibrous strands that had to be systematically ripped apart before the pilot would be exposed.

  The first Coyote had already gotten a quarter of its body embedded in the sphere, but the progress was slow. Regardless, within a few minutes the animals would be through to the last layer of pillowed fabric. The unconscious pilot inside would be torn to shreds.

  Why, why, why?

  Coyote One turned her muzzle to the sky and suddenly sniffed the wind. She yipped a sharp warning, the entire pack dropped prone to the Earth. Dorothy jumped with fright as the holographic map illuminated. Two, three red beams of particle energy ripped through the darkness, phoosh… phoosh, phoosh! The lasers slammed into each of the Douglas County A7 combat drones.

  The Rottweilers…

  SIEGFRIED and FREYA both spat rounds of particle energy from the TOHO cannons in their throats as they tore down the hovroad towards the crash site. The sheriff’s drone closest to the DOGS units exploded in a halo of electric fire and sparks. It looked to Dorothy like a stick of dynamite had been detonated inside a piñata. Bits of armored shrapnel, Kevlar and glass rained down, sprinkling over the asphalt and gravel. Only the heavily armored black box containing the drone’s computer core remained. The metal box bounced on the hovroad with a dense metallic thwack! crack! before skidding to a rest at the shoulder’s edge.

  The second drone, furthest from the Rottweilers’ assault vector, managed to evade a direct hit. It was badly damaged but remained airborne. A deep laser scar sliced through the armor on its starboard flank. The drone wheeled out of control, spinning semi-circles, raining sparks through a trail of turquoise smoke that flowed out behind.

  SIEGFRIED was the first to arrive. His red eyes blazed. Using established momentum, the cyborg leapt six meters into the air and knocked the disabled drone from the sky. He was moving so fast that he nearly missed and was only able to rip out a mouthful of the unit’s chassis as inertia carried him past his target skidding down the hovway. SIEGFRIED tumbled to a stop and was on four paws again in moments. The drone sputtered, then took a crushing nose dive into the nearby field. It’s aft wormdrive peeled and screamed uselessly. Blue electric smoke from its burning motors billowed into the air. The sound made it seem as though the drone was being tortured, crying, aware of its impending demise.

  FREYA arrived next, running too fast, excited, ready for a fight. She dug her claws into the asphalt, leaving five meter gouges in the hovroad as she ground to a halt and reoriented. The silver muzzle of her retractable TOHO cannon gleamed the color o
f pale bone in the moonlight, still protruding between the rows of teeth from her wide open jaws. She centered herself, bracing on all fours, then fired again. Her powerful neck recoiled from the energy discharge. The pillar of concentrated, maroon light tore into the fallow corn field and the second drone disintegrated into a thousand sparky bits of whizzing metal and plastic.

  Coyote One and her three nearest pack mates wasted no time. All four cyborgs, including the animal with the crushed leg, leapt onto FREYA’s back in a whirlwind of gnashing teeth. They sensed the tactical advantage of the Rottweiler’s momentarily unusable jaws. FREYA dropped to the hovroad, attempting to bury her head and vulnerable vidorbs beneath her chest in a defensive crouch. There was no choice but to wait as the still smoldering TOHO cannon retracted down her throat. She squealed with pain as the Coyotes bit fiercely into her shoulders and tore rakes of bleeding BIOSKIN© from her body. The Coyotes yipped with renewed frenzy, excited by the cries of pain, now oblivious to all around but the destruction of vulnerable prey. Strips of FREYA’s synthetic flesh hung from their jaws as they pressed the attack.

  Coyote One, always hyper-observant, leapt away at the last second just as SIEGFRIED’S jaws snapped shut on the lame back leg of her nearest pack mate. With a swift twist of his head, the damaged robotic limb was bitten clean from the animal’s chassis and flung into a ditch. SIEGFRIED pinned the broken, crying Coyote beneath two paws and with one savage bite engulfed its shrieking head in his mouth. He crushed the titanalum skull as if it was made of foam. The Coyote unit’s blue vidorbs blinked twice unceremoniously, then died. SIEGFRIED flung the trashed body of the cyborg over his shoulder with a single whip of his neck and stood protectively over FREYA’s crouching form, growling with barbaric fury at Coyote One.

  FREYA stood shakily. Synthetic, tangerine-red blood oozed over the wounded sections of her BIOSKIN© coat. Silver areas of exposed titanalum infrastructure gleamed in the near morning light. Unlike her brother, FREYA’S slightly less advanced design lacked the ability to instantaneously deploy her throat mounted TOHO cannon, fire accurately, then retract the telescoping weapon back into her chassis. For FREYA, the process of firing a TOHO round and returning her jaws to normal function took approximately 22 seconds.

  The DOGS unit seemed almost cognizant of this personal deficiency as she lunged at Coyote One and angrily pinned the pack leader to the ground. The two Coyotes remaining on the hovroad yelped in panic. They charged to help their alpha and were immediately intercepted by SIEGFRIED, who tossed one aside like a rag doll, his jaws partially severing its robotic throat plates. The second Coyote froze, then backed off. It whimpered and tucked its ragged gray tail between its legs, cowering in submission beside its deactivated pack mate. FREYA’S growl was deep and steady as she hovered above Coyote One, baring her knife-like canines at the helpless cyborg’s neck.

  Dorothy felt a pang of guilt. Like a moth to flame, so occupied had she been by the firing of the particle weapons that she had all but forgotten the Coyotes attacking the Mustang’s emergency collision sphere. There was a human life at stake.

  SNOTRA and LOFN were three design versions removed from SIEGFRIED. Two from FREYA. Both cyborgs were ten centimeters shorter in length and five centimeters shorter in height. Their top gallop speed was 15 – 20 kph slower, and with proportionally smaller fusion cores, their overall chassis strength was weaker by a CSF of 15%. Neither DOGS unit contained integrated particle weapons.

  They had arrived twenty seconds behind as their big sister and brother engaged the Douglas County A7 Sheriff’s drones and fended off Coyote One’s initial assault. The Coyotes attacking the Mustang’s collision sphere were now physically inside its collapsed exterior walls, ripping through the heavier wands of elastiframe. Fortunately for the unconscious pilot within, the fully expanded white balloon was six meters in diameter. Undaunted, the Coyotes were furiously biting and clawing at the final reinforced layer of protective balloon fabric. Once inside, a single flick of a claw would dispatch life from the Mustang’s pilot.

  Two black smears of light flew across the wide irrigation ditch at the hovway’s edge and landed in the winter marijuana field.

  Outnumbered fourteen to two, SNOTRA and LOFN engaged.

  This time, surprise was with the Rottweilers.

  Only two of the feral cyborgs were physically inside the walls of collision sphere, chewing their way deeper towards its core with murderous intent. Their excitedly wagging tails protruded from the deflated edge of the sphere like those of forest raccoons rummaging through a camper’s tent. The remaining twelve cyborgs sat in a tight, circular grouping five meters back, watching intently from a wall of glowing blue eyes.

  The main group didn’t have time to react before LOFN’s charging jaws clamped down on the hind legs of the Coyote unit deepest inside the sphere, ripping it free. SNOTRA dragged the second Coyote out of the collision sphere, also screaming. Both DOGS units held their prey viciously, pulling the bodies of the raving Coyotes into the open field in a cloud of scrabbled dust.

  The instant they had the smaller cyborgs clear of the sphere, SNOTRA and LOFN reestablished their bite positions. Each crushed the legs trapped between their jaws then released the damaged, mewling Coyotes. The creatures limped free, tails tucked as their dozen pack mates descended.

  Dorothy would never re-watch this portion of the holovid recording.

  SNOTRA and LOFN stood back to back. Their razor sharpened jaws flashed in wild circles, slashing the muzzle or chest of one Coyote as five more ripped shreds of black, shining fur from their bodies. The Coyotes’ teeth and claws were dulled by time and the digging of countless dens. Their advances tore the synthetic flesh more than sliced it. Their bite strength was not sufficient to break the smaller Rottweilers’ legs, but their numbers ensured that, given enough time, they would be able to keep them pinned down. With enough determination they would be able to tear and bend their way into the DOGS units’ armored chassis and expose vital system components.

  The Coyotes did not lack determination. The DOGS units thrashed left and right in a frothing fury as the Coyotes continued their assault. Each would cry and briefly retreat as one of the Rottweilers managed to capture a leg, neck or paw in their jaws.

  I want fast, precise assaults…

  William would later estimate that SNOTRA and LOFN would have made it another 120 seconds before the Coyotes shredded all the BIOSKIN© from their bodies. At that point they would begin gnawing, digging at any exposed internal graphene circuitry. William would also estimate that not one of the twelve attacking cyborgs would have walked away without a partially crushed rib cage, broken leg or shattered vidorb.

  Dorothy was grateful his hypotheses was never given the opportunity to play out.

  400 meters off, SNOTRA and LOFN cried out desperately. Their panicked howls seemed to echo off the moon, mingled with the raging, terrible yips of the Coyote pack. SIEGFRIED and FREYA waited only seconds before abandoning Coyote One with a final warning snarl. They charged into the marijuana field on the north slope of the hovroad.

  Coyote One snapped to all fours the instant she was released. Despite the fact that the warning had already been distributed across their intrastream, she raised her nacreous muzzle to the sky and gave a long, high pitched howl to the stars.

  Both warnings arrived too late.

  Badly damaged units limped to and fro on the sidelines, angrily yipping and gnashing their teeth. SIEGFRIED and FREYA charged through the remaining group still attacking SNOTRA and LOFN. The bodies of the larger DOGS units were four times the size of the outdated, though similarly structured, Coyote chassis. They snarled as they raked through the gray, seething mass, knocking the feral cyborgs aside like bowling pins. The Rottweilers’ carbide tipped incisors scoured their ranks, cutting deep into the Coyotes’ already wounded bodies.

  Coyote One’s chilling howl ricocheted off the leafless trunks of nearby trees, commanding retreat. It repeated, filling the night air with a pealing squall.
SIEGFRIED and FREYA had already come about. They charged once more into the scattering pack, barking and snapping at their heels before at last circling back to SNOTRA and LOFN. FREYA nuzzled her wounded sisters tentatively with her own bloody, tattered nose. The smaller Rottweilers remained huddled against the frozen soil, shredded, traumatized. SIEGFRIED stood over them. His sable BIOSKIN© jowls quivered, flashing his enormous teeth at the fleeing Coyotes. Behind the DOGS units lay the deflated, white mass of the Ford Mustang’s emergency collision sphere.

  The fourteen Coyotes who had attacked the sphere regrouped with those still on the hovroad. Only Coyote One remained completely undamaged. Her glowing vidorb reflected a halo of resentful, azure light onto the asphalt of the hovway. Each of the mingling Coyotes sniffed tenderly at the body of their terminated pack mate. Then the silent message was transmitted and they flowed back into a single file line behind Coyote One.

  She lead them north, slinking into the darkness of the countryside towards the river from whence they had come. The pack moved slowly. A couple of the Coyotes ran on only three legs, or dragged a shattered forepaw. The heads of a few swung awkwardly, broken, too low to the ground, their titanalum vertebrae partly smashed and no longer able to provide proper anatomical support. As the last of their number limped into the jane field, their eyes blinked to darkness, blindly following Coyote One into the chilly, shadowed den of a most unfortunate evening.

  Dorothy let out a long sigh. She realized that her cheeks were wet with tears. She swallowed the lump in her throat and watched with sad interest as Dax, Hugo and her husband, William, at last rolled up in the Solar Mule.

  This is why the wheel is antique tech.

  As soon as they stopped, Dax and Hugo jumped out and skidded down the gravel embankment to inspect the collision sphere. They had to determine the quickest, safest way to extract the operator and vanish before the real danger arrived – Sheriff Dale Proudstar.