Insidious, Page 3

  The ASSAIL units stopped firing. They split up and moved around the pool, three on each side. Bren checked the target queues but he didn’t see any projected kills. The machines believed the spider bot was still out there somewhere.

  “We’ve got four marines unconscious and two more stuck in tangler glue on the other side of the station,” Henley piped into Bren’s channel. “We’re pinned down by Circle Fours over here. If you’ve got any ASSAIL units left, we could sure use one over here.”

  The Circle Fours were round, mid-size security robots manufactured in the United States. A Circle Four moved slowly on treads or four stubby legs, depending on its environment, and typically carried three or four nonlethal systems used to guard facilities or control crowds. Exactly the type of robots that Bren’s robot-killers were designed to neutralize.

  Bren believed the spider bot posed the greatest danger, but the ASSAIL team could hardly ignore the marines’ plea for help. The whole point of the assault robots was to take the most dangerous part of the mission, shielding the humans from harm.

  Nor did Bren want the team to break up. But he trusted the machines to make their own decision.

  “I’m sending you what I’ve got now,” Bren told him. He routed Henley’s location over to Marauder and Mournblade. The entire ASSAIL team accessed the marine’s logistic feed and loped out of the room.

  Bren breathed deeply and pushed down the hopelessness that threatened to seize his mood. More than half his team lay disabled. He knew they weren’t really his team, but he thought of the ASSAIL units that way. If they encountered the red spider bot again, or if there were more than one of them, the entire incursion could fail.

  Bren switched back to Meridian’s camera as it headed out of the pool area. He kept part of his attention on the visual feed and looked through some sensor logs in another part of his virtual workspace.

  He hadn’t found the cues that the ASSAIL units were using to fire on the spider-thing by the time the first ASSAIL units caught up with a major contention zone near the fusion plant at the center of the station. Four giant spokes connected the spherical center of the base with the cylindrical body that spun to simulate gravity for most of the station.

  Bren saw marines huddling behind heavy equipment in the zero-gravity environment. Several of the men writhed against thick strands of glue that held them against bulkheads or the reactor wall. The Circle Fours commonly used glue rounds and other nonlethal weapons in combat.

  The spherical structure held many open spaces, but the lines of fire were complicated by heavy columns and piping leading to the massive fusion reactor at the center. A couple of men floated out in the open, unconscious or worse. The ASSAIL units clawed their way into the main atrium of the fusion plant connected to the walls by magnetic feet.

  Boom. Boom.

  Bren saw Meridian had double-holed a Circle Four, killing it neatly. Thin wisps of smoke from the cannons dissipated from the camera feed in a second or two. Bren hoped the spider bot didn’t show up in this environment. Shooting double or triple shots near the reactor was something he didn’t want to see happen, even from his control seat back on the Vigilant.

  Meridian crawled forward through the tall columns of piping and power equipment. Bren caught sight of another Circle Four, but it wasn’t moving. It looked like the marines had taken it out with a hand-launched missile. Meridian ignored the dead hulk. Its two 12mm weapons moved independently, watching for another Circle Four to come into a fire zone.

  Boom.

  Bren saw Mournblade had killed another security machine from across the bay.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s only one left, if it hasn’t disengaged,” Henley’s voice came across the marine command channel.

  “I have it on IR over here by the number three spoke,” a marine said. “I got an acknowledgment from an ASSAIL unit a sec ago.”

  Boom.

  “It got ’em, Colonel.”

  Bren checked and saw Mordecai had taken out the Circle Four as it approached the spoke the marine had mentioned. It had taken some counter fire, a few projectiles, and some glue, but its self-diagnostic indicated the machine was fully operational. Bren shook his head. Things had happened so fast once the fighting started. He’d have hours of footage to look over later.

  “Thanks, guys,” Henley piped over. “I’m getting my disabled men out of there. You can probe ahead or give us five, if you want us on your flanks.”

  Bren saw the marines giving the all clear in the large hollows of the fusion plant. Marines launched themselves up to snatch their free-floating friends and get them reeled back in. Several of them were breaking out white plastic canisters of solvent to start working on the glue that had disabled some of their buddies.

  “I’ll leave it up to them,” Bren transmitted. He expected the ASSAIL units to scout forward on their own, and they didn’t disappoint him. With the Circle Fours out of action, the ASSAIL units resumed the lead, spearheading the space force marines into new areas of Thermopylae.

  The space station was large. Meridian’s view showed Bren the luxurious innards of the station. The intelligence the UNSF had gathered indicated the station was divided into three zones of differing levels of security. The common area of the base was composed of reception rooms, a large kitchen, a medical facility, exercise areas, and even a small museum with items important to the company’s history.

  The ASSAIL team had been inserted into the second zone, which held the support infrastructure of the base. They found storage rooms, a fabrication plant, robot shops, a supply dock with a connected shipping office, a water systems room, and an atmospheric control room.

  At one point, Bren saw a space prep room with spacesuits lined along a wall. Meridian seemed to linger. Bren wondered why, but he didn’t want to ask since each interaction revealed more human weakness to the young cores. The machines had been on for twenty minutes. He also didn’t want to cause any delay in case another battle extended the mission total. He figured the red spider bot awaited them somewhere ahead.

  The assault teams prepared to penetrate the inner bastion of the station. There were two major entrances, and the original plan had called for a simultaneous breach of both of them. But after the trouble with the unknown machine, the plan changed. The surviving ASSAIL machines united to force their way through one entrance.

  Mordecai took aim and put holes in the massive armored doors with 12mm AP rounds. Bren saw the machine had loaded softer rounds in its starboard weapons mount. After piercing the doors in several places, it prepared to launch the softer rounds through the holes. The soft rounds could be calibrated to explode after going through the holes, peppering any defenders on the far side with shrapnel.

  Something hit Mordecai and its feed dropped. Bren swore. The five remaining ASSAIL units responded in a flurry of fire, doubling up rounds and peppering the closed doors. Bren lost count as the rounds kept flying, incrementally shattering the high-security checkpoint in a rapid series of mini-explosions.

  Brrroooom. Boom. Brrroooom.

  One of the doors tumbled back revealing a security station. A ceiling mounted laser fired rapidly, destroying several sensor mounts on another ASSAIL unit but leaving it otherwise unharmed.

  Bren glimpsed a spider bot lurking behind the armored counter of the station.

  Boom. Boom.

  ASSAIL fire kept the enemy machine behind cover. Another ASSAIL sent two rounds into the heavily armored laser turret. Both projectiles struck the same spot and penetrated its protection. The turret went silent.

  They got the turret. But that’s only a secondary threat.

  “Colonel, it’s the unknown again. Things are heating up here. If we lose this firefight, I’m going to need your guys to be ready to get the hell out of there.”

  While Bren delivered the message, another ASSAIL unit dropped its feed. Mauler had been destroyed. There were only four left.

  Boom. Boom.

  Bren watched the feed of the rear ASSAIL.
He saw Maladomini burst forward and hide behind the wreckage of Mordecai. The tentacle under Maladomini’s head actually snaked out and lifted the machine in front of it up slightly, providing more protection.

  The spider bot spun out from behind the counter. Bren saw several dents in its body. He still had no idea what it was using to destroy his ASSAILs.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  The ASSAIL units starting firing. The spider machine moved in a blur. Bren lost track of it for a moment, then spotted it behind the body of Mordecai, opposite Maladomini. Maladomini opened fire through the wreckage in front of it.

  Brrroooom.

  Several rounds came out in a staccato burst. One of the spider bot’s arms came off, flying away end over end. Then the machine exploded.

  “Yes!” Bren erupted.

  “Fragged!” Hoffman burst out.

  “Yes!” echoed another handler in the Guts.

  Bren realized how tense he’d been while witnessing the battle. He checked the weapons log and swore again. Maladomini had fired four rounds through the body of Mordecai, and two of them had at least clipped the spider machine. One of the other ASSAIL units had hit the arm.

  “Four rounds? Jesus. We need to get this base cleaned up. We’re lucky there still is a base to clean up.” He exaggerated only a little. Bren knew four AP rounds along the wrong trajectory could punch a hole through the bulkheads of the base and depressurize a section. He wasn’t sure what four rounds would have done to the fusion plant, but he didn’t want to find out.

  “Colonel Henley. We took out the unknown. You have four ASSAIL units left to assist with the high-security zone.”

  “Shit. Well, we’re headed in.”

  Bren reacquired a camera feed and watched as the ASSAIL team moved through the remains of the security station. He smiled at the carnage he saw through the feed until his eyes caught a pool of blood. One of the base denizens, wrapped in one of the familiar black suits, had been hiding behind the security counter. He spotted a weapons belt on the corpse and a firearm in the dead hand.

  “Damn! That guy’s seriously fragged.”

  The machines split up into two pairs to clear the zone. Bren wasn’t sure why they didn’t cluster together. He wondered if some intel gleaned from the station had eliminated concern about encountering more spider bots. Or were the machines more confident now that they’d eliminated one of the bots? Had they found a weakness? The mission chronometer showed twenty-five minutes had elapsed. The machines had learned a lot since they’d been turned on.

  Bren watched Meridian move through another video feed. It had body language, he realized. The ASSAIL was moving more assuredly now, as it had when first entering the station.

  The robotic vanguard swept through more corridors searching through the functional spaces of the station. Bren noticed several spotless laboratories dominated the branch explored by the first team, while the other had invaded a security office complete with a surveillance room and detention cells. Several men and women tried to put up a fight there, but their weapons were nonlethal even on humans so they were no match for the ASSAIL units.

  One team found its way into a large control room and rounded up a final group of high-ranking company people. At that point, the ASSAIL units started a patrol pattern waiting for any sign of trouble. The marines continued to secure the personnel in the suits. Bren peeked in on the marine channels to gain details about what the human invaders learned.

  Part of the high-security area of the base included the personal living areas of the Bentra Corporation leaders. The place was extravagant by any standards. The living quarters were lavish, even more so if one considered their remote location in deep space. He locked onto a feed from some of the marines who were rounding up people from the high-security zone.

  Bren raised an eyebrow. Each of these executive quarters had a young man or woman in it, all wearing more conventional clothing. Other than the single naked woman in the examination room, these were the only people on the whole base not wearing the black suits. All the ones that Bren caught glimpses of appeared to be Asian.

  “These women aren’t registered,” Henley said on the marine’s channel. “Shit. Wait a minute. They aren’t linked. They have no links.”

  They’re slaves.

  On an automated space fortress like Thermopylae, anyone without a link was a second-class citizen. Even something as simple as opening the door to your quarters could be difficult or impossible without a link. There would be no way to order food, change the temperature controls … they would be next to helpless.

  There might be some manual controls in the rooms, just so they could get some work done for their masters.

  “Our intel wasn’t fabricated. Who knows what else we’ll find in the labs? This could be a major victory for the UNSF,” Bren said.

  Henley chuckled. “You running for office, Marcken? You’re sounding like you’re putting a hell of a spin on it already.”

  Bren smiled. He had let his enthusiasm get out of control for a moment.

  But to those slaves, we’re genuine liberators. Ironic that we’re liberating Chinese, the enemies of the UNSF back on Earth.

  He addressed the remaining ASSAIL machines.

  “Congratulations. The mission was successful. I owe you all my thanks. Please report back to the Vigilant for debriefing.”

  He watched the camera feeds as the surviving robot-killers made their way back through Thermopylae. Marines moved around detaining dozens of men and women in the odd suits, checking the station for critical damage, and searching for illegal items. The machines passed a group of engineers tapping into one of Thermopylae’s data storage units. Bren smiled. He bet they would be finding a lot of interesting bits there.

  The team returned through the breach and back onto the rubberized decks of the Vigilant. Bren got up from his chair and made his way down a short corridor toward the ASSAIL post-mission bays.

  The handlers were already there. The four with surviving machines were preparing the machine docks to accept the ASSAIL units. Each bay extended the length of an ASSAIL unit with an opening at both ends for walking in and out.

  Bren felt pity for the other six handlers. Two of them hadn’t even bothered to show up. The four who had, stood by with glum looks. None of them had expected their machine would be a leaking pile of scrap by the end of the mission. It might be weeks before they got replacements. If they got replacements. The data would be audited carefully, and if any of the handlers had neglected their duties in a way that had contributed to the loss of a machine, those handlers might be replaced as well.

  They didn’t do anything wrong. We had no idea there would be such a devastating foe here.

  The familiar sound of powerful hydraulics and electric motors grew from the outer corridor. The four ASSAIL machines came back into the maintenance room and slid into each bay. Four umbilical connections snaked from the sides of each bay and connected to the machines.

  Bren saw Maladomini bore a battle scar. A front panel of metal armor had been rent open revealing a narrow hollow in the center that leaked green fluid. The fluid was key to the functionality of the armor plate since it held millions of long carbon nanotubes in suspension to block incoming projectiles. Struck by the scene, Bren shook his head. It looked as if a wounded metal lion had slinked back to the Guts to bleed out.

  Bren monitored his post-mission protocols and tried not to look at the robots. He always experienced nervousness at this point. He felt like somehow they knew. He checked the mission chronometer. The AI cores had been on for more than thirty-four minutes. Each core harbored intelligence many times more powerful than the sharpest humans did, but with a restricted set of knowledge.

  Meridian followed Bren’s movements from its bay. Each eye was an armored black hemisphere the size of an old-world quarter. Meridian had eight forward-facing eyes, arrayed symmetrically across its head and shoulders, like a giant metal spider head with creepy, cold shark eyes.

  “Yo
u are Major Marcken. I have a question,” said Meridian.

  Bren accessed the power lineup that fed the ASSAIL units the juice they needed to maintain mental coherency. He started the power down procedure.

  “Yes, Meridian?” Bren replied nervously. He wondered what the question would be this time.

  “Have you delivered the message to Sparta?”

  “I’ll send them the message, Meridian,” Bren said and turned off the power.

  Meridian remained conscious for a long second before going dark. Bren always wondered what it thought in that last moment while its capacitors discharged, knowing its existence was about to wink out.

  “I would be interested in reading the message,” was the last transmission from the AI core.

  Bren felt troubled. Fear and guilt battled in the mix of feelings produced by his role in what was the execution of an intelligent entity, albeit one only minutes old.

  I would be interested in reading the message.

  His mood didn’t stop him from running the cleanup protocols and resetting every electronic component back to the startup specs. Not a single bit of old state from the machines would remain outside of the logs when the machine started again. And the logs would be transferred off the ASSAIL storage units to Bren’s data storage modules.

  The next time the machines were deployed, their cores would start from scratch again. Meridian wouldn’t remember a thing.

  Two

  Chris Adrastus settled into the acceleration lounge. He closed his eyes and relished the perfection of it. The muted vibration of the vehicle, the comforting white noise of its drive, and the smell of pristine leather combined harmoniously. Even now, hours after leaving Earth’s atmosphere, the acceleration continued. His link picked up the longest list of services he’d ever seen. It offered access pointers for drinks, food, massage, and climate control … this exquisite throne could even heat, cool, or change shape at his mental command. He thought about the chair angle pointer just so, causing a control panel to snap up in his mind, letting him adjust the settings. His lounge reclined farther without a sound.