She checked her scanner. The robot had stopped. She waited patiently. It began moving again, back towards the hangar. Irritated, she began yell in the hope of attracting its attention. Again, it paused, then moved towards her once more.
Its speed suddenly increased by a tremendous factor. It closed the distance in a few seconds. Klane backed away hurriedly, but it was useless.
The robot appeared along the corridor, floating a few inches off the floor, weapons ready.
Klane shot quickly, before it could unload on her. The tremendous crack of the hypersonic projectile was deafening in the confines of the corridor.
The machine’s defence field rippled like a pond that had had a stone thrown into it as the steel slug hit it. The robot stopped abruptly, as if running into a brick wall. From out of the shimmering field a flat disc fell, ringing metallically, to the floor. The machine regarded it as a man might look at a mosquito he’s caught in the act. It lowered itself to the floor and stood on its legs once more.
Klane fired twice more, eliciting the same result. The second shot, however, was ignored by the robot. Its weapons came to bear on Klane and it opened up, as before, but this time with all four arms.
Klane was thrown back along the corridor, bouncing twice before coming to rest. The front of her armour was scarred and melted, but still surviving. Another barrage the likes of that though, she thought, and it won’t be.
She struggled upright. The machine was in exactly the same spot. Its weapons flicked down to cover her again. In a motion she thought she couldn’t perform so quickly, Klane grabbed a grenade from her tattered harness, armed and threw it. The machine fired again, ignoring the grenade, blasting her along the floor, limbs flailing wildly. She didn’t mind. The further away the better.
The grenade exploded with a blinding flash and a volcanic roar. Klane wasted no time witnessing its effects. The pressure wave blew her a dozen more feet along the corridor, almost to the accommodation area and she scrambled to her feet and staggered in.
She was glad she had freed the lifts now, she didn’t think she could move much farther before her armour seized up. Or her limbs, for that matter. She hopped into the lift and quickly punched the up button. With gratifying speed the doors closed and the lift began to ascend.
At the top she paused and consulted her tracker. Farther along the upper corridor she could detect the others entering the hangar. She tuned them out of selection, not wishing to pick them up on the tracker. From below, there was nothing. She began to stagger towards the hangar.
Halfway along her tracker beeped warningly. She stopped and consulted it.
Below, something was moving. From far away came the sound of something tearing metal. Klane began to run.
At the hangar entrance she was met by Jones and Carl.
“Shit!” Jones exclaimed, seeing her condition. “Are you alright?”
“That’s a dumb question!” she replied. “What does it look like to you?”
Jones was speechless.
“Where’s the robot?” Carl inquired.
“Lower level,” She gasped. “I buried it with a grenade, but it seems to be getting free. Time to leave.”
The pair nodded.
“We couldn’t find another shuttle, so we’ll have to make do with a launch. It’ll be a little crowded with five of us.” Carl said.
“Anything’s better than staying here. That thing’s unstoppable.” she stated.
Her tracker ceased its warning cacophony. She looked at it suspiciously. There was no sign of the robot. “Let’s get going.”
The trio hurried across to the launch. Jackson, the engineer, was just finishing his inspection of the launch’s drive.
Jones and Carl hurried up the boarding ramp. Jackson accosted Klane at the bottom.
“Everything’s fine!” he stated, confidently. “Of course, I’d prefer it if I..”
“Shut up and get in!” Klane ordered. She still clutched the MF pistol which she waved menacingly.
The engineer swallowed and nodded enthusiastically. “Right! Sure! Time to go!” He turned and began to climb in.
Across the bay another hidden door opened. The robot stepped forth and opened fire at once.
Its attack was split between the two visible targets. Both were blown into the shuttle. Neither made it in one piece.
Jackson would never again examine an engine fervently. He was pulped immediately.
Klane might have survived intact if her armour hadn’t been so badly damaged. As it was, it was barely enough to save her life. Her prosthetic arm was blown off just below the elbow and one leg was all but severed by the barrage. Resinous impact blocks and circuitry flew around the interior. Carl doubled up as a piece of her leg imbedded itself in his side.
“Go!” she yelled forward. There was, fortunately, no transmitted sensation of pain for her to worry about.
Carl straightened from his bent posture to slam his hand down on the hatch release. The door slid shut with agonising slowness.
“The bay’s not evacuated yet!” Veltin yelled back.
“Go anyway!” she screamed.
A smile broke on Veltin’s face. This was the kind of order he dreamed of receiving.
A few deft taps of the controls had the outer doors opening despite the pressure difference. Veltin lifted the launch from the pad and sent it hurtling toward the slowly opening doors.
Behind them, the robot struggled to avoid being sent out into space. Its feet clamped magnetically to the deck.
Veltin saw at once that the launch was too wide to fit through the gap in the doors. He shrugged and flipped it on its side. He wondered, briefly and with not too much concern, how high the little craft was. Perhaps he should have paid more attention when he boarded?
The launch shot out of the ship, leaving only its comms antennae behind. Veltin congratulated himself. He did that quite often. Other people seldom did.
In the bay, the last of the air finally escaped, leaving everything silent and calm in its wake. The robot unclamped itself and rushed to the still opening outer doors.
The launch was dwindling rapidly. The robot wasted no time. It set its weapons on full automatic and unloaded on the craft.
Veltin scowled as the launch rocked under the assault. Red lights appeared on his console. He improvised an evasive course and pushed the throttle wide open. He was mildly surprised to find that it was already as far open as it could go.
The launch pulled out of range of the robot’s weaponry. It stood at the edge of the bay and checked its program for instructions as to what to do about the escapees. Its orders were quite explicit; Dispose of ship’s occupants, destroy any other invaders. The robot considered the occupants disposed of. The launch was damaged, perhaps fatally. It had done its job.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hamilton successfully piloted the shuttle out of the bay without mishap and set it on course for the Hope’s Breath. The minute he was clear he tried to raise the ship.
Static greeted him. Either they were unable or unwilling to respond. He bet on the former. He used the shuttle’s limited scanning equipment to look for any other vessels nearby. Nothing would have surprised him as possible at this
point.
He ran the shuttle up to full speed and closed the distance on the Hope’s Breath. It appeared that the ship had been pulled up closer to the station. Probably in response to loss of communications, he reasoned. As the ship drew closer he reminded himself of its fearsome armament. Any one of its batteries could disable or destroy the shuttle.
He tried the radio again now that he was nearer. To his surprise, there was a reply. But not the one he expected. The answer came from the station.
“Ah! Hamilton? Is that you?”
He recognised it immediately as Walsh’s voice. But what was he doing on the station? In addition, the voice was filled with confidence. Walsh knew exactly who he was talking to.
“Walsh?” Hamilton replied in a similar manner. �
��What are you doing on the station?”
“Ohhh, this and that.”
Hamilton frowned. It appeared Vogerian did have an accomplice; Walsh. “What does that mean?”
“Why don’t you come back and find out?” Walsh suggested, in a friendly manner.
“I don’t think so, do you?” Hamilton replied.
“No, I suppose not. But you’ll never know what I’m up to.”
“That’s a real shame.” Hamilton sneered. “I’ll just have to live with it.”
“Ah! Hamilton!” Walsh continued. “I must say I’m rather disappointed with you. I had thought you might have figured out my little game but, alas, you weren’t up to the challenge. Too bad!”
Walsh’s little game? Hamilton frowned. “Why don’t you enlighten me now it’s all over?”
“All over! Oh my dear Hamilton! It has hardly begun! This is just the end of the beginning! I can assure there is much, much more in store for you yet.”
“I take it you don’t mean to kill me, then?”
“Of course not! That would be so, so ..” Walsh hunted for an appropriate word. “So… unproductive! You see, you have a terrible time ahead of you.”
“I do?” Hamilton scowled. “Why don’t you tell me the rules, if you want me to play your game?”
Walsh sighed. “It’s precisely because you don’t play by the rules that you are the most interesting. As for the game, why! You’ve been playing it all along!”
“And what purpose does the game serve? Amusement?” Hamilton fished.
“Oh dear! Don’t tell me you’re trying to trick answers out of me!” Walsh’s smug tone was irritating.
“I thought the bad guy always told his victims of his nefarious plans.” Hamilton said.
Walsh chuckled. “I like you Hamilton! You’re funny! Of course I won’t tell you anything at all! It’s so much more frustrating for you that way!”
Hamilton was beginning to grind his teeth. “How about I give up and commit suicide?” He suggested.
“I don’t think you’re the type.” Walsh stated confidently.
He was right. “What’s happened aboard the ship?”
“A change of tack? Very good!” Walsh smirked. “Aboard the ship? Oh dear, that’s a real tragedy! I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
“You’re not.”
“Thankfully. I know what’s in store for you.”
“I’ll make my own judgements.”
“An unfortunate trait.”
Hamilton turned the radio off. He’d had enough of the supercilious idiot. Walsh sounded mad.
Abruptly, the radio returned to life.
“Can’t get rid of me that easily!” Walsh crowed.
“What the hell do you want, Walsh?” Hamilton growled.
“Me? I want nothing but information. The more the better. Everything you do provides me with it. As to what I came here to do, well! I’m about to go and do it! I’m sure you eaten up with curiosity, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to guess.”
“Walsh,” Hamilton’s voice was quiet. “When we meet again I’ll kill you. I should have done it on the station.”
Walsh sighed again, tolerantly. “Poor child! Did you think I didn’t know you were behind me? Give me some credit, please! As to killing me. Hmmm, you might have done it, if you were lucky. As to meeting me again? I don’t think so. At least, not under circumstances to your advantage.” The shuttle did a barrel roll. “You see, Hamilton, you go where I want you to go.”
Hamilton experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “If you control the shuttle, why don’t you just kill me?”
Walsh was indignant. “Oh no! That’s not in the plan! Killing you would accomplish nothing at this stage. But you’re right as to my controlling the shuttle. Now! Where would you like to go? Ship? Planet? Or maybe back here to have a face-to-face? You choose.”
Hamilton scowled at the comms gear. “What difference does it make? I’ll end up where you want anyway.”
“On the contrary, the choice is entirely yours.”
Hamilton thought about it. Not much point in going planetside yet. He didn’t know what was down there. Back to the station would surely mean his demise. The ship seemed the best offer. But why would Walsh allow him back there? The answer was simple. There was nothing he could accomplish there that would affect Walsh. He only hoped the reverse was true.
“Alright Walsh! I’ll go back to the ship.” he answered.
“Ah! A poor choice! Still, your wish is my command! For now!”
The shuttle lurched and made a bee-line for the Hope’s Breath.
“Farewell Hamilton!” Walsh voice was full of sadness. “It was nice knowing you! But I suppose it’s possible that you could survive. I’ll tell you what! If you escape from your doom aboard the ship, I’ll give you some more information. How’s that?”
“I won’t hold my breath.” Hamilton muttered.
“It’ll be worth your while.”
“You’ll probably lie in any case.”
“I give you my word!”
“Big deal.”
“Ah! Hamilton! Pessimistic, to the last.”
Hamilton said nothing further. The radio remained silent.
The shuttle closed on the Hope’s Breath and approached the portside hangar. The outer doors opened automatically and the shuttle drifted in without Hamilton having to raise a finger. It settled down on the pad and the instruments showed the bay pressurising.
Hamilton moved to the exit but kept his suit on. Walsh seemed to control everything. There was no point in taking the chance that the ship would stay pressurised during his visit. He wondered what had happened to the others.
The green light came on over the hatch and Hamilton thumbed the release mechanism.
The bay was silent, empty of all but other craft. Hamilton climbed down and made his way to the inner doors. They opened to his touch.
The corridor was empty. He tried to raise Jones or Klane on his headset radio. They did not reply. Warily, laser drawn, he made his way forward. He kept his eyes on his tracker. It was silent.
The whole ship seemed empty. He considered calling out over his suit’s external speaker but decided against it. He was pretty certain that Smith’s assassin was on the loose someplace. There was no point in calling attention to himself. He checked the two upper labs and the accommodation areas without finding any trace of the others. He then descended using the ramp. There was no sense in getting trapped in an elevator, and made his way towards the security room.
Halfway along the corridor he found a scene of devastation.
Pipes and wiring ducts had been blown open and the corridor was filled with sparking wires and hissing pipes. Protective grillwork and flooring lay strewn around and the lighting had been destroyed. He suspected a grenade at once. Only Klane had grenades, to his knowledge. That she had used one shipboard indicated that she felt incredibly threatened by whatever she had used it on. There was no sign of any corpses or remains.
He picked his way through the rubble and continued on along the corridor, paying more attention to his tracker now.
Reaching the security area he paused to look in. One of the lockers had been opened and the weapons strewn about. Many were missing. He checked the status board. All the cameras were working and all systems were free.
Suddenly, the systems were locked. Red lights appeared over all of them except one. He fiddled with the controls but was unable to override the lockout. The only system working was the elevators.
He considered his options. He could attempt to get to the bridge but risked being trapped there, or in the elevator if Walsh, who must surely be controlling everything, decided to lock them down. On the other hand, it was the most likely place to find any answers.
He left the security room and went across to the medical area. All was as it had been, save for the absence of any life. Smith’s corpse lay in storage, as before.
He moved to the rec area. It wa
s one of two places where people had been left.
The rec room, he decided as he entered it, was an apt name. It was a mess. Blood and gore was splattered all over the place. It was impossible even to guess how many had been killed here, let alone who. He stayed around only long enough to examine his battered assault system which was lying on the deck. It was ruined. He satisfied himself that there was nobody left alive and then returned to the security/medical area. The bridge elevator beckoned.
Muttering to himself, he entered it and punched the down button.
The lift descended smoothly and the doors opened on the bridge. Assuring himself of the lack of immediate danger Hamilton stepped out. He pulled out one of his remaining air-bottles and wedged it in the elevator door. Then he turned to the bridge.
Philbin and Tong lay dead on the floor. So, too, did Vogerian. Hamilton moved over to the old man and checked him out. His face was badly bruised, obviously the result of physical punishment. In addition, there were the faint scorching marks on his body indicative of stunner hits. Stunners on full power, too, he thought. Otherwise, the old man was uninjured. His heart had probably given out, Hamilton decided. Stunners on full power, particularly as many hits as he had taken, tended to do unpleasant things to the target’s nervous systems.
As he was crouched over the old man something caught his eye under Vogerian’s seat. He took a closer look. It appeared to be a gun. He snatched it up hastily and examined it.
It was a pistol of some kind, clearly an energy weapon of some sort. Careful investigation revealed the end of the barrel to possess some kind of iris valve. Hamilton pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was undoubtedly some kind of regulatory device. The weapon was unmarred by any manufacturers stamp. There was no indication of power level, but a lever set conveniently where a thumb would rest hinted at power adjustment. The trigger underneath was of conventional design. An experimental play with the power adjuster had the iris valve opening and closing in total silence. There seemed to be no safety catch. A light pressure on the trigger seemed to indicate it would require very strong fingers to fire. Satisfied it wouldn’t go off accidentally, he stowed it in his air-bottle bag.
Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 26
