The Sentinel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 3)

by Walt Robillard

  Tarot scanned a HUD overlay showing a map of the structure. “Good. Do we have coms with our assets inside the facility?”

  Morpheus, appearing as a college professor with his sleeves rolled up in Tarot's HUD, responded with the air of giving a presentation before a review board. “Negative, Madame. Although we arranged pre-ordained signals for attaining objectives. They will know we are here as soon as I send the first.”

  “Thank you, Morpheus.”

  Lawson-2, also known as the shape shifting infiltrator bot, Romeo, stretched past Tarot into the water, again. Hoisting Marshal Truveau onto the dock seemed easier to the bot, as she was carrying much less gear than his boss. “Up you go, Miss Truveau.”

  “Why, Romeo, I do declare. I haven't been called, 'Miss,' in an age. You will make a girl blush. I'd kiss you for the trouble but I like breathing,” she said, tapping her sealed visor.

  “You're welcome, Miss Truveau,” Romeo replied like a schoolboy who'd been given a compliment by the prettiest teacher in school.

  “You break him, you buy him,” Tarot said, locking her swim fins to the back of her calf armor. She retrieved her M-721-X blaster rifle from its magna-lock, assuming a patrol ready stance.

  Mara mimicked her, pulling her own rifle from its lock. Mara had achieved renown in the Frontier as one of the last of the gunfighter marshals. With Seladriel gone, that left her and Brand to carry on the tradition. While many Marshals Templar these days were content using their plasma swords and the occasional pistol, Mara preferred her finger on the trigger.

  Tarot called to the assembled team, “Romeo, you're in the lead. Everyone give him a hallway's length before you follow. Temperance and Merlin behind. The rest of the Card Arkana, dealer's choice on the move. Marshal, we'll cover the rear.”

  “Not my preferred spot in the stack,” Mara said.

  “Not my problem,” Tarot said, releasing her metallic monsters to prowl through the facility.

  “Good morning Doctor Kot. You seem rather busy for this early in the morning.”

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Haas. Unfortunately, we've been with the project all night. I have yet to find the time to sleep.” Kot adjusted the translator collar around her neck. Furious movements in the holographic interface surrounding her had been knocking the device free of late.

  Haas approached the window, looking down his nose into the pit where his most lucrative and most difficult contract to date had been playing out. Orin Lashra was secure in his chamber, surrounded by ten psychics in similar pods set into the floor. Technicians flitted about like fireflies through a dark forest, their white lab coats striking a contrast against the slate accommodations of the room. Several floors above them was their buffer, a powerful psychic they'd convinced to harness Lashra's power so the human psychics could mold it to their will.

  “He's agitated. We'd gotten another surge last night through what he would call the Crucible. Our buffer filtered a sizable portion of it out, but Lasher's handlers still had a rough time corralling his energies into the project,” Kot said, never once looking to Haas for understanding or approval.

  A digital indicator flashed across Haas' cyber-lenses, bringing his attention back to the lab. “Doctor, did you just activate a security team to make their way to the control chamber?”

  “I did, Mr. Haas. I am detecting a presence in the Second Sight. I don't know exactly what or where it is, but something is displacing the Unseen here in the facility. In addition, I do not believe that technician with the stylus stuck into her pony tail is real.”

  Haas seemed perplexed, “I'm not sure what you mean, Doctor.”

  “The technician, Kara Sanford. Is she an android?”

  Haas stepped back, an expression of distaste written across his features. “My dear doctor, masking an artificial intelligence or robot to appear organic blatantly violates the Hagen Accords. I could lose my corporate charter.”

  Several clicks and chirps preceded their translation through the doctor’s collar. “Then we had better get that security team in the chamber immediately. That woman has no aura in the Second Sight, which means she is either dead and still walking or not what she appears.”

  “Are you sure, Doctor Kot? Doctor Lam, has Sanford been acting strangely?” Haas asked, pointing his fingers to his project manager working on the other side of the room.

  Confusion crossed the miasma of emotions wrestling for control of Doctor Lam's face. “None of us have left the facility, sir, and Sanford has been a trusted member of my staff for years. I can't see her being an android without us knowing about it.”

  “But has she been acting strange, recently?” Haas said, focusing his attention on the doors leading to the control chamber.

  “No more than any of us who've been working the project since Doctor Kot got here. We've been working double shifts for the undertaking, sir. Doesn't leave a lot of time to just hang out after work.”

  “Understood,” Haas said. Tapping his earpiece, he activated his com along with a virtual feed from the security team approaching the doors. “Captain Cadeehan. I'm sending you the profile for a Mrs. Kara Sanford. Detain her and remove her from the facility. I need her transported off the station until we can question her. If she complies, just move her gently. This could be a misunderstanding.”

  One of the holographic blocks, displaying head shots of the team, moved forward, growing larger in his display. Cadeehan was a Medoran, a member of a race of humanoids from the planet Kasimia. They appeared human-like except for tendrils where a human's hair would be. The Medoran were off-putting to some races because they could move these appendages. While it gave them a Medusa-like visage, the strands were actually a sensory organ that worked much like a snake's tongue tasting the air.

  “And if she doesn't comply, sir?”

  “Then do it the hard way.” Haas directed.

  The security team slithered into the room like a python sizing up its prey. Technicians cried out in surprise as the group fanned out. An older man, watching them over the glasses at the end of his nose, waved his hand at the lead trooper.

  Haas could hear him through the external microphones in the room, “Captain Cadeehan, you boys just out for some practice or is there a problem?”

  “Sorry, Doctor Vandry. We just got orders from the top floor. We need to secure Technician Sanford.”

  The occupants of the lab whipped their attention back and forth until everyone was staring at Sanford, her eyes wide above a tablet pulled to her chest. “Me? What did I do?”

  “No idea, ma'am,” Cadeehan said, flipping up the visor in his helmet. “I just got orders to take you out of the room. Mr. Haas needs a word.”

  Sanford set her tablet down at the nearest workstation, “If he needed a word he could have just called me up to the control center.”

  “Dunno, ma'am. All above my pay grade. I just aim where they tell me.”

  Sanford looked just as ragged as many in the room. She seemed short-tempered, most likely the result of sleeplessness her team had been going through as of late. She walked up to Cadeehan, placing her hands out in front so she could be cuffed.

  “That won't be necessary, ma'am” Cadeehan said.

  “Captain, I wonder if you would do me a favor,” Sanford asked as she exited from the room.

  “What's that ma'am?”

  “Can you clear my hyper-net browser history? I don't want them to find my subscription to Fluffy and Cuddly Monthly.”

  The captain whirled about, the expression under his visor all too easy to read.

  “I can't believe that works every time,” Sanford said. She punched him in the face, shattering his visor and knocking him into two other guards. The remaining four were quick to bring their rifles to bear. She took hold of the drag handle at the back of a trooper's armor, easily flinging the one-hundred kilogram soldier into his friends.

  Sanford pounded on the security squad. She had liberated one of their sub-machine blasters, shooting at one while using ano
ther for cover. Within short order, she was clear of the team, dumping the empty weapon on the floor. Recovering a hand blaster, she aimed straight into the feed lens, blowing it out in a single well placed shot. Desperate to see what was happening, Haas waved the hologram, switching it to the hallway surveillance feed. Tapping something on her belt, the technician turned assailant jumped away from the door. A brilliant flash at the top of the entrance bled liquid fire along the seam to the floor, fusing the lab doors together.

  Haas worked the interface of his cell-com. “Major Denorro. I just issued a tier one security alert for the complex. Activate all protection assets. Lock us down so there's no movement between sections. Security teams will hold in place. Anything moving will be hostile.”

  The woman's image floating in his HUD vanished from the display. Whoever she was, it was a safe bet Lasher was her objective. While there were several important projects being run at this lab, most had been moved to other facilities so they could concentrate their efforts on the undertaking. Koda being at the forefront of this meant they would cement their position as the dominant force in military contracts for the next century. They'd already had proof of concept against the lancers when they took Lasher prisoner. Now they were proving the viability of this during a long-term campaign to their customer base. The project couldn't falter now.

  A ping brought Haas' attention back to the room. “I was wondering when you'd call.”

  Agent Norris, Triton Expeditionary senior agent turned entrepreneur, was wiping himself off with a towel. He waved at someone away from the holo-projector before leveling a disappointed expression into the feed. “I get a little time each day for the gym to clear my head. I usually try to schedule it for when my special friend and his special projects should be secure. What's going on there?”

  “They're making a play for the mongrel,” Haas said.

  “Of course they are. We knew this would happen and planned accordingly. Where are we?”

  “Looks like they had someone impersonate one of my staff. They escorted her out, but somehow she managed to seal the blast doors to the lab. She never tried to free him, just locked down the room.”

  Norris nodded toward the camera. “Which means they want him in there for now. Think tactically, Kam. What's the benefit of sealing him in?”

  “Keep him protected from whatever they're planning to do next?”

  “That's one plan,” Norris surmised. “I'll cast to you within the next thirty minutes. Have my usual set up for me.”

  “Already on it. We'll hold things until then,” Haas said as the feed cut out. “I'm the head of a Platinum Ring company. Does he think I haven't faced industrial espionage before?”

  “To be fair, sir, this is more like an industrial assault,” Doctor Kot chirped through her translator.

  “Do you have anything constructive to add, Doctor?”

  Kot took stock of a reading Doctor Lam tossed into her holographic interface, rebounding the information into some of her working calculations. The flurry of light and symbols shifted, changing to the new algorithms, allowing the doctor to form theory into strategy. “Based on the readings from Doctor Lam, I would posit that the intruders will attempt to seal Mr. Lashra in, while taking out our buffer and then sabotaging the stasis fields for our psychic handlers.”

  “To what end?”

  “Those enormous transmissions in the Crucible. He'll have access to all of it with no buffer and no handlers,” Kot said, pointing to a display reading psychic pheonmenon in the area.

  “He can push it any way he likes,” Haas realized, turning to face her.

  “Major Denorro has all areas of the facility locked down. I've advised Doctor Vandry of the situation. He will monitor the handlers to safeguard them and their control. The major is enhancing the security on the buffer as we speak. We are in good hands, Mr. Haas.”

  “Doctor, ever thought about a position in management?”

  Sheaves of light filled screens circled the frantic motions of the doctor's four arms as she tabbed through various controls. “Not in this life, Mr. Haas. I prefer to get my hands dirty.”

  Eighteen

  The android Sanford pulled herself along the hall with her remaining arm. A security team reinforced with Generation Three, Robotic Infantry Modules, had blown off her other one. Losing her arm had thrown her off balance for when the RIM-IIIs had charged in. She avoided the first few attacks before one managed to latch on. They pulled her apart while she wore a passive face, indifferent to the damage she was taking. She slapped the side of a head, blowing it into a collection of useless parts missing its CPU. The guards had backed off, recalling the dog mechs so they could use the corners of the hall for cover against the sub-dermal plasma caster in her palm.

  “How much do you think that'll cost to fix?” a guard remarked.

  “Not our mechs, not our problem. When she clears the corner, we'll move forward to use it as cover to blow off the other arm so we can take her,” the team captain said. “Doctor Kot wants the CPU. Probably going to find out where she came from. Hazek, send a sneaker forward to see what she's doing. We don't want her to get too far so we can't get a clean shot.”

  The trooper dropped metal marbles, which sprouted spider legs as soon as they hit the floor. They crawled up the wall, tapping their way across the surface no differently than would an insect. They stopped just shy of the corner, flopping to the ground.

  “What happened?” the team captain asked.

  Hazek was shaking his head from side to side. “Dunno. They just died. All my gear is fine though so it can't be an EMP or ion strike. It would've affected all of us.”

  “Doctor Kot, this is team six-one-seven, we're stacked against twenty-oh-three-three, can you see around that corner?”

  “Negative, Captain. We are in a feed black out from twenty-oh-one to oh-five. Stay where you are, utilize one of the RIM-III's to work the corner.”

  The captain tried not to let his disdain for her tactics color his speech. “We just had our sneakers dead lined while trying to negotiate the hook. Same thing could happen to the bots.”

  Kot came back immediately, “Then withdraw to the previous intersection while we push additional support to you.”

  “You heard the lady. Move it back, kids.” the captain said, wagging his finger to the aforementioned position.

  One of the RIM-IIIs trotted to the front. “Captain, would it not be prudent to send us forward? We are hardened against many attacks that would threaten other bots. Better to capture the intruder now before she gains access to reinforcements or some objective we hadn't thought of.”

  Talking to the shapeshifting robots was always a creepy exercise for the team captain. If they were in their jackal form, he was talking to a robot dog. If they were in their hybrid form, he was talking to a man-jackal, which was something out of a nightmare. Either way, it was unnerving. It didn't help that the things spoke like Mylosi nobles stepping on broken glass.

  The captain huffed in a way that said he was done with the entire affair, “That android slapped off your robot buddy's head like she was playing murderball. You want to take the corner, be my guest.”

  “Seems we don't have a choice. New threat detected” The mech strode forward, its remaining counterpart moving in parallel. Both raised their M-715s, one gliding through the center of the hall, the other hugging the side of the corridor nearest the turn. They moved with a deadly grace that belied their frames weighing hundreds of kilograms.

  Just as they trotted down the hall, a woman clad in ornate plate body armor walked around the corner. She held her hands at her hips, her palms open to show she wasn't holding any weapons, even if there were still a few magna-locked to her armor. Back lit eye slits glowed from under a T-shaped visor, giving the mask an ethereal flair. “Lay down your weapons and surrender.”

  The first mech was quick to counter. There was no discussion prior to the trigger pull, just the flash of a stun bolt soaring from the barrel. The bot
s didn’t need to know who she was or why she was here. It was a simple matter that she was violating security and they would have more than enough time for questions once she was in cuffs. The bolt sailed in, striking the armor mid chest. She took another step, defying the bolt demanding she give up muscular control along with her consciousness. The second bot pounded her with another shot, forcing the strength from her legs as she crumpled against the wall.

  The captain came forward, refusing to lower the aim of his sub-machine blaster. “Rarely do I get trumped by a bot, but credit where credit is due. Nice one, GL-4706.”

  “Thank you, sir. It is my pleasure to serve.” Forty-Seven-oh-Six reached down to the intruder, prepping a heavy set of omni-cuffs in the event she was either enhanced or wearing endoskeletal armor.

  The machine jerked to the side, slamming into the wall to obstruct any hope of a sight picture from the forces behind it. A black blade surrounded by a brilliant red corona pushed its way through its chest on the way to the back of its cranial housing. Metal sloughed off of its frame, dripping to the floor in burning gobs as the mech’s death cry of warbles and gears winding down sounded through the hall.

  To its credit, the second mech dropped into a seated position to get a shot through its counterpart’s legs. It assaulted the swordswoman with waves of stun bolts. After the third one passed by harmlessly, the bot switched to lethal rounds. Full powered bolts from its M-715 slid around their target like condensation down the side of a wineglass.

  “Get out of the way, Ninety-nine!” the captain shouted. He juked to the side, trying to get a bead on the reinvigorated threat. Every time he thought he could get a shot, GL-4706’s carcass floated in the way, absorbing whatever fire they could direct at her.

  Ninety-nine rolled backwards, changing shape to the jackal-headed war dog known for dominating battlefields across a multitude of conflicts. A minute turret sprung from behind its shoulder, pulsing to life in the form of a savage directed laser. The emerald beam flashed across GL’s corpse, finding its way through the myriad holes being punched through the bot. Several pinpoints of light raked their adversary, tracing burning lines threatening to punch through her armor.