by David Weber
“Hmm.”
Raibert reached inside, stuck his hand to an unseen surface, and swung himself in.
“Raibert?” Benjamin asked.
“This won’t take long. In fact…aha! Well, well, well! What have we here?”
“You tell me. I can’t see what you’re doing from down here.”
“Be very careful with that!” Philo warned.
“Find something we can use?” Elzbietá asked.
“Maybe. Check this out!”
Raibert popped his upper body through the hatch and held out a device resembling a rocket launcher.
“It’s…smaller than I was expecting,” Benjamin admitted.
“True, but this thing can take out a whole continent with the right tweaks.”
“It can?”
“Yeah. It’d take a while, but sure. This thing could do it.”
“How exactly?”
“Please stop waving it around like that!” Philo pleaded.
“Don’t worry. It probably has built-in safeguards that terminate the growth after a few generations.”
“Until they mutate unexpectedly!” Philo added.
“Yeah, that would be the downside.”
“What are you two talking about?” Elzbietá asked.
Raibert patted the launcher’s barrel, and Philo squeaked out the audible equivalent of a wince.
“This thing fires canisters of weaponized self-replicators. Microbots that will reproduce like mad and eat anything they splash against. Ships, buildings, people, whatever. Doesn’t matter. It’ll turn them all into goo that makes more goo.”
“Without end?” Benjamin asked.
“Looks like the number of generations they’ll spawn can be set, so the operator can adjust the yield.” Raibert shook his head. “Can you believe these Martian idiots gave self-replicators to their infantry? No wonder the Admin fought a war to end this madness.”
“You still want to take some, don’t you?” Philo asked.
“You better believe I do!” Raibert declared. “The Admin’s playing for keeps, and so am I. Think the remotes can haul some of these back to the Kleio?”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Philo replied. “I’ll send a few your way and have them—carefully—transport any launchers back.”
“That’ll do.” Raibert let the rocket launcher float away, planted his feet on the transport’s side, and kicked off. He spun around and landed next to Benjamin.
“Can’t Kleio print out weapons like that already?” he asked, indicating the microbots in his backpack.
“Nope,” Raibert answered. “Too many limiters built into her software and the printers. Weaponized replicators aren’t just dangerous as hell, they’re also illegal in my timeline, which is why I’m not surprised the Admin fought a war to end stupidity like this.” He pointed for them to leave. “Come on. Let’s check out the next bay.”
They returned to the hallway and followed it further away from the Kleio until Raibert opened another entrance to another launch bay.
“And that would be the second troop transport,” Philo reported.
“No good, then,” Benjamin said.
“Well, those are the two closest bays,” Raibert said. “We have two options now. We can head down toward the engines until we hit the next level of bays, or we can head across to the bays on the other side of the ship.”
“It would make sense for them to cluster similar craft together,” Benjamin said. “I say we head to the far side.”
“We’ll check both,” Elzbietá suggested. “I’ll take care of the bays below us. You two scope out the other side.”
“You sure?” Benjamin asked. “What if there are more unpowered doors?”
She made a fist. A prog-steel cutter snapped out of her wrist and oscillated to life.
“I think I can handle that.” She opened her hand, and the cutter morphed back into her armor.
“Maybe I should check the bays below. You can stick with Raibert.” He opened a virtual menu and began scrolling through his suit options. “Just give me a moment to figure out how to do that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You stick with Raibert. The faster we find a gunboat the better.”
“Works for me.” Raibert placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Doc. Let’s get moving.”
“Right…” he replied hesitantly.
Elzbietá knelt down next to a white circle in the floor and began cutting it open. Benjamin grimaced as he turned away and followed Raibert deeper into the ship.
“Tough fiancée you’ve got there.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
A long, narrow corridor opened at the end to reveal the Lion’s central, hollow spine, where a network of heavy conveyors lined the inner walls and branched off to either side of the ship. Most of the conveyor sections were empty, but a few had square containers clamped in place.
“Those conveyor lines look like they connect back to our bay,” Benjamin noted. “We might be able to use them to transport the weapons back to the Kleio.”
“Maybe. We need to find some first.”
They reached an observational balcony at the end of the walkway and gazed down the ship’s spine into a black, bottomless chasm. Benjamin gripped the railing tightly with both hands without thinking.
It’s not bottomless, he corrected. Surely it ends a kilometer or so below us at the engines.
The thought provided little comfort.
“We could go around,” Benjamin suggested.
“Or we could jump across.”
Without another word, Raibert kicked off the walkway and floated across the chasm.
Benjamin stared down at the abyss again, steeled himself with a few deep breaths, then kicked off the ground to follow Raibert. His inner ear told him he was falling as he floated over an endless chasm. His breaths shortened and he tried focusing on the walls instead.
“Is it stupid to be afraid of falling in zero gravity?” Benjamin asked urgently.
“Doc, I’m in a body that makes me almost immortal and I’m afraid of the fall. It’s not stupid.”
“That…” He took a few breaths, slower and deeper this time. “That actually makes me feel a little better.”
“Glad to help.”
Raibert landed on the other side, then reached out, grabbed Benjamin’s arm, and pulled him in. Sweet relief filled him once his boots were firmly planted on the opposite walkway.
“You okay?” Raibert patted the side of Benjamin’s helmet.
“Yeah.” He gulped down another breath. “I’m good.”
They proceeded further through the ship, now in corridors that mirrored those they’d come from. They’d almost reached the closest bay when Elzbietá called in.
“Hey, guys.”
“What is it, Ella?” Benjamin asked.
“I’ve checked all three bays on this level. We’re oh for five right now. More troop transports, same as the first two.”
“Great,” Raibert grumbled.
“Should I head down further?”
“Hold position,” Raibert said, extending a cutter. “We’re almost to our first bay. Let’s see what we find first.”
He cut through the malmetal portal, peeled it aside, and peeked in.
“Well, would you look at that?”
Benjamin joined him at the opening. The craft inside possessed an air of dark, sleek deadliness, as if it had been built to contain only what it needed—and what it needed were engines and weapons. Its hull formed a long cylinder that tapered down to a wide hole on the side he could see.
“That’s doesn’t look like a troop transport to me,” Benjamin remarked.
“Me neither.”
“Is that hole for the engine exhaust?”
“Don’t think so,” Raibert said. “Looks like the barrel of a mass driver.”
“That’s the barrel?” Benjamin exclaimed. “Look at the bore on that thing! It might be a snug fit for you or me,
but I bet Ella could crawl right into that thing. What’s a gun that big meant to take out?”
“Warships like the Lion, I’d wager.” Raibert unstrapped his backpack and headed inside. “Come on. Let’s get started.”
“Ella, did you hear that?” Benjamin asked.
“Loud and clear. Even the part about me being slim and sexy.”
“Start making your way toward us. Looks like we found what we came for.”
“On my way.”
Benjamin removed his backpack and mirrored Raibert’s actions by sticking it on one side of the barrel. The backpack dissolved into a white liquid that thinned out over the gunboat and flowed into the barrel before vanishing.
“First step is to build a rough schematic of the gunboat,” Raibert said. “After that, we can direct the swarm to cut the mass driver free without accidentally damaging it.”
“Sounds like it should work.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Raibert shrugged. “When’s the last time you did this?”
“Never.”
“Well, same here, Doc.”
“Everyone,” Philo called in. “We’ve got a problem.”
Raibert let out a tired sigh. “New problem or old problem? You know you have to be specific at this point.”
“I just lost one of the remotes below your position. I don’t know what happened to it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
FPNS Lion of Aurorae Sinus
2777 CE
“What do you mean you lost it?” Raibert pressed urgently.
“The transmission ended without warning. Cause unknown.”
“Indigenous Admin?”
“Could be. In fact, I think that’s fairly likely.”
“Damn,” Raibert hissed, and pulled out his hand cannon. “Time to go.”
“Ella, change of plan.” Benjamin retrieved his burst pistol and switched off the safety. “Get back inside the Kleio as fast as you can.”
“But what about you two?”
“We’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what!” Raibert announced. “Everyone back on board! We’ll phase out and try again!”
“Where’d the remote go silent?” Benjamin asked.
“Two levels below your position.”
“Can you show me?”
A marker pulsed in his interface lenses and faint gridlines of the unseen levels enhanced his spatial awareness. He hurried over to the bay exit, pistol raised in both hands, and was about to glance through the opening when Raibert grabbed his arm and yanked him back. He put a splayed hand against Benjamin’s chest and pressed him against the wall.
“Stay behind me,” the synthoid warned. “If one of us is going to get shot, let it be me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Sure you can. But a headshot won’t kill me.” He eased off and raised his own weapon. “You ready for this?”
“No.” Benjamin licked his lips, and his heart pounded furiously in his chest.
“Same here.” Raibert glanced down the hallway. “Clear. Let’s go!”
They darted into the passage, moving in a fast walk that required them to always keep one foot on a surface. The path ahead branched to either side, leading toward nearby launch bays, and white circles indicated closed shafts leading up and down.
“Hold,” Raibert ordered.
Benjamin hung back and knelt to press a hand against the floor.
“Vibrations,” he whispered. “Hard to tell how close.”
“We’re not alone.” Raibert leaned out and checked both directions.
Gunfire from the left ricocheted off his shoulder, and he staggered back, barely sticking to the floor.
“Wolverines!” he shouted. “Or something close to them!”
Outlines of four-legged robots lit up Benjamin’s lenses. They scuttled across the walls and ceiling, almost insect-like, and Raibert discharged his hand cannon twice. Soundless detonations blasted one of them to scrap, but more poured into view. Gunfire sparked against the walls, casting the environment into brief stark relief, and Raibert fired again.
“That’s two!” he announced.
Benjamin couldn’t shoot past Raibert with the man taking up the whole corner. Or rather, he couldn’t in a normal environment. Floor and ceiling didn’t mean much in this place, and he climbed the wall, planted his boots on the “ceiling” and positioned himself upside down, directly above Raibert.
“Careful, Doc!”
“Careful isn’t going to get us out of this!” he spat, and swung out of cover. Drones scurried into view, and he cracked off three quick shots. The first armor-piercing round punched through the head of a Wolverine. Once past the outer armor, software detonated its payload and released a spray of shrapnel that gutted the robot’s sensitive internals.
His second shot pierced through a Wolverine’s belly and blew its head off. A third shot nearly grazed the shoulder of his last target. The shell’s onboard software determined this was as close as it was going to get and exploded, showering the robot with shrapnel and crippling its neck joint and a leg.
Benjamin ducked back into cover.
“Damn, Doc!” Raibert swung out and finished off the wounded drone. “You said it’s been twenty years since you fired a gun!”
“In this universe!”
“Aha!”
Two more Wolverines scurried into view, and Benjamin and Raibert swung out. They fired in almost perfect unison, and the drones flew back from direct hits, then crashed against the back wall. Their limbs twitched erratically, then fell inert.
“Is that all of them?” Benjamin asked. Broken pieces of robotic dogs floated about the now cluttered hallway.
“I’ve spotted another group moving toward your position,” Philo reported. “Mix of drones and Peacekeepers.”
“You need to get back to the ship!” Elzbietá urged.
“We’re working on it!” Raibert replied. “Come on, Doc! Let’s go!”
“Right behind you!”
*
Hinnerkopf frowned at the datafeed from the indigenous shipyard.
“I was expecting better from our predecessors.”
“They had to find the professor first,” Okunnu stated. “We’re fairly certain the TTV is somewhere near the shipyard and it looks like we were right that he was on the Lion, but that still leaves a huge amount of ground to cover. Now that the local Admin has him spotted, their next attack should prove more effective.”
“If you want something done right…” she muttered.
“Director?” Okunnu turned to her.
“Or we could just finish him off ourselves now that we know where he is.” She adjusted the collar of the pressure suit Okunnu had insisted she put on and looked up at him. “Missiles?”
“He’s in the belly of a warship. Even with its defenses offline and bay doors opened, it can still absorb an incredible amount of punishment. Our missiles will be ineffective unless he’s near the surface, and the last sighting had him moving deeper into the interior.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Direct engagement of the enemy inside the ship.” Okunnu gave her a confident nod. “Agent Cantrell is standing by in her combat frame, and all special operators and drones are onboard the Cutlass. I’d like to send both Switchblades out as well, to provide fire support and, if the professor gets too close to the ship’s surface, to try and snipe him with a railgun shot.”
“Do it.”
*
“Why don’t we take off and help them?” Elzbietá demanded as she hurried onto the bridge. The ship’s gravity was on again, and she stopped herself next to Philo’s avatar at the command table. “The guns on this thing could tear any of those drones to shreds. Why don’t we swing to the other side and pick them up at the bay they’re closest to?”
“Because we’ve got another problem,” the AC stated calmly. “Look here.”
He indicated a cluster of icons seventy
kilometers from the shipyard and closing.
“What are those?” she asked.
“It’s hard to tell, but I think they’re Admin attack drones. Two or three of them. They might even be Switchblades or something similar. Those are fairly ubiquitous Admin drones armed with 115mm railguns.”
“Are they a threat to the Kleio?”
“In numbers, yes.” Philo highlighted the path the drones were taking. “They’re trying to make a stealthy approach, but the Kleio has a direct line-of-sight to them out the launch bay, so we’re sporadically picking them up.”
“Then let’s get out there. We’ll take them out, then go pick up our boys.”
“It’s not the drones I’m worried about, but the ship they came from. Look at the direction they’re coming from.”
Elzbietá did so. “There’s nothing out there.”
“Exactly.”
“So? That just means their carrier’s hidden.”
“But we’re in a post-war time period,” Philo emphasized. “Why is a stealthed vessel hiding this close to the heart of the Admin’s power? And why would they send their drones in so timidly?”
“Could they have spotted the Kleio?” Elzbietá suggested uncertainly.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know how they found Raibert and Benjamin so fast. It’s almost as if they started searching the Lion as soon as we got here, which doesn’t make sense unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Oh, no,” Philo breathed, then opened the channel. “Raibert, come in!”
“Little busy right now!” A few seconds passed and then he added, “What is it?”
“I think there’s a chronoport somewhere outside the Lion.”
“Well, that’s just great!”
“It might even be the one that hit us in 2018,” Philo added.
“How’d it track us this far?”
“No idea.”
“Well, stay put! We’re making our way toward you! We can’t risk the TTV in combat until we’re ready!”
“Understood.”
Philo muted the channel.
“So you’re just going to sit here?” Elzbietá asked.
“You heard him.”
“We need to get out there and help them!” She swiped a hand through his avatar and was surprised when he flinched back from her simulated touch. For a moment there, she actually felt the texture of his tunic and mail armor against her palm.
