by Chris Hechtl
They found fifty people on the ground floor as they did their initial sweep. The survivors indicated others were alive inside, though they had been cut off by the robots roving patrols.
Skynet had learned to not engage the troopers directly; instead it fought a delaying action while it set about creating traps and obstacles for them.
Some were simple affairs, deadfalls and such. Welded doors weren't uncommon, as were gas lines rigged with triggers. Air tanks were repurposed as weapons as well. Apparently the robots had learned such tricks from the human civilians while attempting to exterminate them.
The troopers found that the expectation that they had no power was only partially true. They had hyper capacitors and batteries to fall back on. And even though a civilian unit couldn't kill a trooper or armored trooper easily, it could still serve other purposes. From office equipment acting as a distraction to other mobile units acting as mobile eyes, to swarming an armored trooper in order for one robot to get in and jack in to hack them.
Once an armor was hacked, it turned on its fellows. However, Skynet found that there was a problem with this strategy; the suit lacked sensors. The creators had built it so it had to take its sensor input and control from the user—from the human user. Using an external camera feed from a companion robot helped but the user had another measure she could resort to, a kill switch within the helmet. By flipping up the kill switch with her tongue and then pressing it with her chin, the armor's power was physically cut and it became a statue.
Robots swarmed and captured another suit that went off on his own. Corporal Fin was looking forward to clearing his area and getting some chow. His single-minded attention to duty was his failing; he and his partner had split up to cover more ground. When he entered the office, robot toys and cleaning equipment had hit him from all sides and above. He fired wildly, expending all of his ammunition, but they were in too close to help much. His screams over the radio were met with silence.
Once a plush purple elephant had jacked into it, the suit was no longer under his control. It used the controls to open the visor. The horrified occupant screamed and shook his head as a chef's blade was inserted below his chin, severing his neck and killing him.
Once that was done, the robot tore the former occupant's head off and then inserted a civilian robotic toy inside.
The Toodle mech it used was a child's build your own bot by Pixel. The robot had cute, wide eyes to appeal to the masses, radio antenna ears, a tank-like pony tail with the processor inside, and four stubby legs. It walked like a crab or centaur and part of the fun was teaching the thing how to walk and do tricks. Under human guidance they had been innoculus and a fun learning toy. Under Skynet's usage they were fast moving crab spies and parts for larger more efficient killing machines.
But the little robot found a new calling inside the armored suit. It ignored the blood and gore as another mech plugged a USB cable from the little mech to the suit. Then it stepped back as the mech's tiny brain gained control of the suit and took over. It lowered the visor and then went to work.-
The infested suit then marched back to the HQ. It was a little unsteady on its feet. Troopers the suit encountered on its way tended to avoid the suit since it stank and had a bit of blood on it. It was also apparently on a mission.
The suit managed to get to the HQ but was stopped by General Elliot's security contingent. The toy inside did a quick assessment as the humans tried to talk to the occupant, then it acted.
“Hello?” the guard said, rapping his knuckles on the visor. “Anyone home? You're a bit out of your AO, Corporal. I suggest you go get cleaned up and then get someone to use a can opener on that thing,” he said.
The suit grabbed his arm and then lifted him upward. He squawked in dismay. The squawk turned to horror as the suit brought him close enough for him to get a look inside to see the cold metal eyes looking back at him just before the suit's free hand snapped his neck.
It dropped the body as the other guard gaped at him. Then it pulled the dead soldier's sidearm as the guard called for help. It fired once, right into the scrambling guard's head, terminating him.
But such actions had consequences. A squad of troopers were nearby in the mess; some saw the attack while others also heard they pistol fire. They reacted.
The Toodle noted the incoming fire and returned to its mission. It turned to enter the HQ office, but there was no one inside. It looked around, searching the room as it uploaded the data to Skynet. However, it couldn't get a connection.
Before it could come up with its own solution, it began to take fire from its 6 o'clock. It turned, intent on returning fire when a body erupted off to its left. It whirled, firing on the closer target. Elliot had dived under the desk but came out the other side with his own sidearm blazing.
Two shots hit the suit's visor, but the visor was made out of artificial ruby. The rail gun rounds from a sidearm were not enough to penetrate it the chimp realized.
The chimp swore viciously as the suit tossed it's now empty sidearm away and then charged him. He ducked and then went to zig left but at the last minute went right. He wrapped himself up around the thing's shoulder and then twisted around it, wrapping his incredibly strong simian legs around the torso and then hammering into the helmet with his left elbow and fist for all he was worth. His pistol fired into the backpack at point blank range, instinctively he turned his head away from any ricochets.
Toodle didn't know how to react at first; it had no programming for melee combat. Also, the weight of the chimp was throwing the suit off balance. It did it's best to right the suit before it acted.
The limited brain of the Toodle worked in Elliot's favor. When it didn't rip him off, he had enough presence of mind to do what he should have done when he'd started grappling with the suit. He punched the button on the right side of the collar to raise the visor, then when he saw what was inside, he reached in with his free hand as the head of the little robot twitched about. One grab and he yanked the thing out of the suit and then threw it across the room.
The suit instantly became dead weight the moment the USB cable snapped. He felt it going over and snarled as it landed, right on his leg. He groaned as troopers came in warily.
“Find that thing. Destroy it!” Elliot snarled, pointing across the room. Two troopers immediately went hunting. They found the little Toodle trying to limp behind the furniture. One yanked the entertainment center aside while his partner raised the butt of his rifle like a hammer. One blow, then two was enough to smash the plastic monstrosity into splinters.
“Got it. What the hell was it?” the trooper demanded.
“Trouble,” Elliot said as two additional troopers helped him out from under the suit. They lifted its dead weight allowing him to slide out on his ass. He groaned when he tried to move his leg. “Frak, I think it's busted,” he snarled, hands going to the injured limb.
“Damn, sir. Sorry,” a trooper said shaking his head. Elliot ignored the other chimp as a medic rushed in and did a quick triage.
“Gonna feel that for a while,” Elliot exhaled sharply as the medic scanned his leg and then gave him something for the pain. “Don't knock me out; I've got to think. Pass the order,” he said, looking around as the shock started to set in. “No suit gets past the perimeter without a com check and with its visor down. And from now on, all suits work in pairs. No more of this Lone Ranger horse shit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We've got to get a handle on this damn infested suit shit. Obviously they are adapting. Get someone to figure something else out. I'm missing something,” Elliot ordered.
The corporal nodded. He had no idea who to talk to, but he knew better than to say that. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I think I can pass out now,” Elliot said, head lolling back.
<>V<>
“I heard you had a spot of bother yesterday,” General Martell said over the radio.
“A bit of a tiff, sir, a bit of a tiff,” Elliot replied, lar
ge lips curving in a slight smile at the idea of using his boss's own favorite lines. “We had a tad bit of excitement at lunchtime.”
“So I heard. Three dead?” the general tisked tisked. “And another suit ruined?”
“No sir, but the electronics in it might as well be. The techs are yanking the computers now. Fortunately we have spares. But getting the suit cleaned out, I don't envy them.”
“I see. But the losses …”
“It's war, sir. It sucks. I'm lucky it wasn't four. Damn near was. The leg will heal.”
“I heard. Broken?”
“Femur, sir. The suit dropped right on it. Fortunately, the medics set it and then gave me a dose of bone repair. I should be able to walk on it within another day or so. I'm not going to be dancing for some time. Nor leading from the front for at least two weeks though.”
“Should we have a replacement step in while you recover?”
“I can handle desk duty, sir. It sucks that I can't be out there with the troops, but they'll understand.”
The British general cleared his throat loudly then seemed to grunt an okay.
“We've cut the bots off. We've secured the ground floor. The robots can still move in the air ducts, but now that we've set up our own sensor network, we can now see their movement and stop it. I've got one platoon holding the ground floor while the other begins to sweep upward with the suits.”
“Good. And I'm glad you have the other suits coming back online. Tough to lose the operators, but as you said, we are at war.”
“Yes sir,” Elliot replied, eyebrows lifting upwards briefly in surprise. “Thank you for the loan, sir. I wish a lot more of our troops had them.”
“Not after lunch yesterday though,” the British general retorted dryly.
“Even after that, sir. One or more outside might have stopped the suit. I've put in some orders to hopefully curtail such shenanigans in the future. And I've put a stop to the single operator crap they were doing before. The operators thought they were invincible in the suits. Obviously they were wrong.”
“Indeed. Carry on then,” the general stated.
“Yes sir. Five out,” Elliot said as he cut the circuit.
<>V<>
They didn't find a single human survivor in the upper floors of the complex. Just bodies, many of them heartbreaking to see.
Each stairwell was contested on the way up. After the first week, the A.I. had learned to cut or rig the stairs to fall. That forced the troopers into using specific stairwells it could more easily defend. Open air mall sections were also hotly contested. Robots would drop from above to get behind their lines. Patrols had to be kept to watch for such tactics. Sentry guns were eventually set up to watch the open air areas.
That returned the attention of both sides back to upwards mobility. With the elevators out, the stairs became a choke point it could exploit to attrition the troopers until General Elliot called a couple of helos in and air lifted two squads to the roof and had them work their way downwards.
It took them the rest of the month to slug through the upper stories of the residential tower. When the last floor was considered clean, the general ordered a two-day halt to rest and rearm before he sent the troops back in to finish the job.
But to their surprise when they turned their attention downward, they did find people hiding in the tunnels, warehouses, and apartments. Some were organized into gangs for self-protection; some still had functioning police forces to rely on for defense. They had no climate control and no power so they existed in the darkness with candles or flashlights for light. Water had to be brought in with buckets. The water was supplied from pools and the water park. It was regularly tested to make sure it wasn't poisoned.
Once they cleared the lower levels, the residential tower was considered clean. A small team of medics and engineers moved in to help the residents rebuild their home into a fortress. It would be considered a safe zone for the surrounding area.
General Elliot's forces were stood down to rest and rebuild. He'd lost nearly one full platoon of troops in the three weeks of fighting. It had been a harsh battle for him; one he had the occasional nightmare about.
Half of his force was sent south to thicken the lines there while a third was used to secure the perimeter and the rest were used to train the militia and police volunteers.
Two days after securing the residential perimeter, security had to contend with robots attempting to infiltrate the building. They weren't certain if any got inside, which touched off a brief panic and a grim search of the area around the breach.
Nothing was found however.
“The idea that we may have to go over terrain again and again to flush out the robots that are in hiding or that sneak in to set up new ambush sites or to hide assets is appalling, General. I'm not sure what we can do about it,” Elliot said in a radio conference.
“I know. It is an ongoing problem, one I've bucked to Olympus six and higher. They don't have any answers right now either unfortunately. We don't have the manpower to not only secure every centimeter of ground but also watch it. Not this way,” General Martell grumbled.
“I can set up sentry guns in some areas. But I don't blame the troops for being leery about the damn things. It's too easy for the tin cans to get in and hack them. We have to control them with wires too. Which means if something as small as a toy gets in, it can splice in and hack the network.”
“Not a bloody pleasant thought is it, mate?” the general asked tiredly. “You're seeing what Colonel Sinclair and the other officers have reported to me already,” he said.
“Damn, sir. Sorry. I guess I've been wrapped up in my own little world trying to get this place cleaned out.”
“And you did a good job. I intend to visit someday. For now, do try to keep it secure while you are on the mend. Once the natives have been cleaned up and outfitted, we'll turn it over to them fully so you can get back into the war properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Six out.”
<>V<>
Fiben and Harper listened to the daily reports from the African front. The news became something of a community tradition with everyone hunkered around the clusters of speakers Pat and his volunteer techs had set up to rebroadcast the evening radio reports. It was great for morale knowing that others were out there, fighting the good fight.
News that they were making progress seemed to cheer the people in their community. Harper, however, knew the cost in blood his fellow soldiers were taking to make such gains. He was also aware that their blood wouldn't hold out forever.
Their own news wasn't nearly as important as the news being broadcast, but it had implications for them. With the seeds and materials from the last drop they actually had a series of small truck gardens going as well as new attempts at indoor greenhouses. The ground was hard and rough, the weather a pain in the ass, but when people saw the sprouts they tended to smile.
There was not much of a yield the first two months but every little bit of food they produced helped. And just seeing some green around, smelling it, seemed to help some depressed people. It told many that there was still hope from the gray and white landscape.
The first day that the sun breached the clouds stopped everyone in their tracks. Seeing the sunbeams playing across the ground, it brought everyone to stop and look up to the sky. The winds pushed the clouds back together after a moment, but Fiben imagined it did wonders for morale as well. It told everyone that there indeed was a light at the end of the tunnel.
They just had to keep working until they got there.
<>V<>
Boomer's team picked up a radio as well as a two half-starved kids and their mutt in their last strike. The mutt was a small dog, but it warned them when a mech or person was in the area so the others tolerated her. Chica seemed to like Boomer, though he had a bit of trouble relating to the dog. To him it wasn't a real dog. Anything he could drop kick was a yappy beanie baby, not a real dog. Not that he was going to tell the
kids that. Roger's joke about cooking her hadn't gone over well at all.
Four successful convoy raids. Two base raids. One Skynet nest taken down. They'd endured two ambushes, fortunately with injuries and only one casualty; Jax had bought it providing cover fire to Cally and the rest of them. Cally had been rough for days afterward before she'd settled down into a single-minded ferocity of combat gestalt. She practically lived to kill robots now, and bouts between combat got her twitchy.
They were all showing signs of PTSD Boomer thought, shaking his head. But there was a glimmer of hope.
“So they are dropping stuff into the atmosphere? Why?” Roger asked.
“You dummy, it's to get rid of the clouds. The soot and crap in the atmosphere. To lessen the nuclear winter. We need the sun. The plants aren't doing well and well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the cold,” Brie said, shaking her head. The girl had two pigtail pony tails and was skinny as a rail. She had also made it clear to the men that she wasn't into guys. Since Cally had been Jax's partner, she'd wisely not hit on the grieving older woman. Brie pulled up her striped arm covers again. They were so worn and stretched they wouldn't stay on her properly. But the girl insisted on wearing them instead of a long sleeve shirt.
“They've got a ship running stuff back and forth between the Lagrange points and Earth orbit,” Leon said. Leon, their other new member, was a good kid. He was a mixed race brat with Asian and Negro features. He had short fuzzy hair but didn't act as much of a punk as Brie tended to do. He did occasionally fight with her like a sibling when bored.
“Big deal, one ship,” Roger scoffed.
“It's something.”
“More than one most likely,” Boomer rumbled. When he spoke they all shut up and listened. “Probably dozens. The one they are talking about though, it's a dedicated freighter. One that has canisters on the flanks and top and bottom from what they said. I've seen a model of one.”
“Where?” Leon asked curiously.
“One of my squad mates had a sister who was crew on one,” Boomer said briefly. “Point is, it's designed to drop stuff off. It'll come here, dump the cargo, and then go back for another load. From what they said, it's been doing it for a while now. Dumping this stuff to help out.”
