Redeemed (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 3) Page 12

  “Well, I assumed given all the shit we went through getting here, that that was enough,” Slate said. “I thought the next battle would all take place in software.”

  “Well, you assumed wrong,” Manticore said.

  “So what can we expect from this Curator of yours?” Marlborough asked.

  “I told you, I don’t know,” Manticore said. “Only that it won’t attack until something enters. Here, let me open the door. And we can decide what to do next.”

  Manticore sent his alien sphere forward.

  “Wait!” Marlborough barked.

  The scout froze.

  “You’re not opening that door until we all get back!” Marlborough said.

  The team quickly retreated, moving to the far intersection and ducking around the bend. Eric and Slate remained near the forefront and peered past the edge. The other platoon members, covering the approaches to that intersection, tapped into their video feeds—Eric noted many “guest” connections on his HUD.

  The scout moved forward once more and reached the entrance. A telescoping arm emerged from it and slid into a small slot in the bulkhead.

  The door spiraled opened.

  Beyond awaited a darkness that not even the LIDAR could penetrate.

  “Why isn’t anything showing up on the LIDAR band?” Frogger asked.

  “Obviously there’s some sort of photon absorbing substance inside,” Dunnigan said.

  The team members remained silent for several moments as Eric and Slate peered into that impenetrable blackness.

  “Eagleeye, how are you doing on those modified drones?” Marlborough asked.

  “Got a camera installed on one unit,” Eagleeye replied. “It’s capable of transmitting LIDAR, and has thermal and night vision.”

  “Send it in,” Marlborough commanded. “One meter. Then I want it to fly out again, and report immediately.”

  The drone flew forward, and passed Manticore’s alien scout to enter the room. It vanished into the darkness.

  But didn’t come out again.

  “I thought I gave you instructions to fly inside only one meter?” Marlborough asked.

  “Yes,” Eagleeye said. “But… it seems its gone offline.”

  “Great,” Slate said. “Just great.”

  Once more silence descended over the platoon.

  “Well, we can’t stay here all day,” Marlborough said. “Those Black Tails will be arriving shortly. So. Who wants to volunteer to go next?”

  14

  Eric glanced at his companions. He was ready to volunteer, but others beat him to it.

  “I’ll go,” Brontosaurus said.

  “As will I,” Dunnigan said.

  Eric hesitated. He wanted to be the one to go with Brontosaurus, but Dunnigan was as good a choice as anyone else. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t join them.

  “I’ll go, too,” Eric said.

  “No,” Marlborough said. “I don’t want to risk more than two mechs this first time out. Dunnigan, stay back, follow Brontosaurus. Retreat as soon as anything goes wrong. We need to know just what the hell this Curator is, and what he can do. And we can’t do that if you both die in there.”

  “If I have the choice between saving Brontosaurus, or my own skin, I’m going to choose him,” Dunnigan warned.

  “Sounds good to me,” Marlborough said. “But whatever you do, please, one of you try to get out alive.”

  Eric and Slate moved out of the way to let the two mechs pass.

  Eric returned to his cover behind the bend and watched the pair approach. He had a thought.

  “Wait,” Eric said.

  Brontosaurus and Dunnigan halted halfway to the dark opening.

  Eric glanced at Marlborough. “Why not send the mechs alone? Let the Accomps guide them in. Why risk their lives?”

  Brontosaurus spoke before Marlborough could get in a word. “I’m not sure I’d trust my Accomp to do the job. I think it’s better if we go ourselves. We’re Mind Refurbs. We can handle anything the enemy throws at us. Our shields are fifty percent charged. And we’re equipped with alien weaponry.”

  Marlborough didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally: “No,” Marlborough said slowly. “Scorpion is right. You don’t need to needlessly risk your lives. I want your mechs to go in alone. The Accomps are capable of facing whatever threat lies inside, and they can report back just as well as you what that threat is.”

  Brontosaurus sighed over the comm. “All right.” He jettisoned from his unit, and climbed down in his Cicada. Dunnigan did the same beside him.

  “I feel so naked somehow without my mech,” Dunnigan said.

  “Oh yeah,” Brontosaurus said. He and Dunnigan returned to the intersection to join Eric and Slate in cover past the bend. “Definitely not a good feeling.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Slate said. “The two of you love being naked together. You do it all the time in the apartment complex.”

  “Hey Slate, wanna take a shower with me when this is done, mate?” Dunnigan asked.

  “Oh yeah, baby,” Slate replied. “I dream of you every night. I can’t wait to see your ass.”

  “I knew it!” Eagleeye said.

  The two Accomp-manned Devastators approached the darkness, and then vanished inside.

  “Just lost signal,” Brontosaurus said.

  “As in, the mechs are destroyed?” Marlborough asked.

  “Not sure,” Brontosaurus replied.

  Eric stared into the darkness of that opening, waiting for something to happen, or for one or more of the mechs to emerge. Several moments passed, but the entrance remained completely quiet.

  Eric was just about to relax slightly, when he heard a loud grinding sound, like hundreds of steel saws cutting into different metals, and his servomotors tensed up all over again.

  “The hell is that?” Slate said.

  From the opening, several fragments of metal and polycarbonate shot outward as if spat out. Embedded among the fragments were some small, intact mech body parts, such as hands and servomotors.

  Most landed in a pile directly in front of the door, but one fragment had sufficient kinetic energy to hurtle straight toward Eric: he had to duck out of the way to avoid having it hit him, and it smashed into the bulkhead directly across the way. It promptly bounced to the floor and rolled to one side. It looked like the partial head of one of the mechs.

  The grinding sound faded, as did the sound of metal parts dropping to the deck.

  Eric tentatively peered around the edge once more. He stared at the large pile that had gathered in front of the open door.

  “Scorpion, how much material is that?” Marlborough asked. “Enough for two mechs?”

  “I believe so,” Eric said. “There’s definitely enough material for more than one. One and a half, maybe.”

  “Well, so much for at least one of the mechs emerging intact,” Frogger said.

  “Is the alien fusion reactor among the debris?” Brontosaurus asked from his Cicada.

  “I think so,” Eric replied. “Looks punctured.”

  “Why didn’t it explode or meltdown or something?” Brontosaurus said.

  “The alien fusion reactors don’t work like that,” Manticore said. “As soon as they lose integrity, say from a puncture, they immediately shut down. Not meltdown, like a human reactor would.”

  “Oh,” Brontosaurus said.

  “So what now?” Mickey said. “I guess there’s nothing we can do. We might as well head to the gravity dispersion room and take out the generator. Then we can launch a bunch of black holes, implode the ship, and go home.”

  “Just like we did during the first invasion?” Slate said. “That sounds like a mighty fine plan. Oh wait, no, there’s just one small thing wrong with it. And that would be the ‘go home’ part. You see, bitch, you’re forgetting that we all died the last time we tried to take out that generator. All except for squeaky clean, lucky ass Scorpion here. So that’s not the best idea, not at all.

  �
��I say we stay here and try again. Come on, you know y’all want to have a Banthar mothership all to yourselves. You thought you had fun piloting trillion dollar mechs? Well wait until the shit we pull in this baby! We’ll have a friggin’ army of termites at our beck and call, my bitches! Not to mention inertialess drives, and faster than light travel. We can fly it around the galaxy and raise hell wherever we go!

  “So. Who’s going to go inside? And this time it has to be an actual Mind Refurb. None of this Accomp bullshit. Accomps are a poor substitute for real men.”

  “And women,” Crusher amended.

  “Sure thing,” Slate said. “So you’re volunteering?”

  “No...” Crusher said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Slate said. “So like I was saying, Accomps are a poor substitute for real men.” He ran his gaze across the other Bolt Eaters, quickly passing over Bambi and Crusher. “Who’s up to the task?” When no one volunteered. Slate added: “Come on, you’re all thrill seekers! Someone’s gotta volunteer.”

  “Why not you?” Eagleeye said. “You’re so eager to die, then go ahead. You or Mickey.”

  “I’ll pass,” Mickey said.

  Slate examined the pile of rubble sitting outside the opening. “Hm, no thanks. I’m not as brave as Scorpion. You’ll do it, right, bro?”

  “Of course I will,” Eric said, stepping past the edge of the intersection.

  “No,” Bambi said.

  Slate’s avatar suddenly grinned. “There see, I knew there was someone braver than me in this sorry bunch.” He lowered his voice. “And stupider.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Bambi pressed.

  “It’s my turn,” Eric said. “I’ve sat back and watched the rest of you die long enough. I’m not going to do that again. I’ll go.”

  “I was kind of joking.” Slate paused. “And kind of not.”

  “It’s not worth it,” Brontosaurus said. “We don’t need to take the ship. Let’s just destroy it.”

  “No,” Eric said. “We have a chance here to turn the tide in this war. If we turn back now, and fight our way to the generator room, and then simply destroy this ship, we’ll be paving the way for another invasion twenty years down the line. Or even sooner. The Essential will come back with two motherships next time. Four. We have to end this threat now. If we capture this ship, we’ll be able to use it to defend against future attacks. Or we can turn around and take it to the Banthar homeworld, and give them a taste of their own weapons firsthand.”

  “Ooh, now that’s what I’m talking about!” Slate said.

  Eric took a step forward, and then stopped. He ejected from his cockpit and landed on the deck in his Cicada.

  “Decided to let your mech go in alone after all?” Mickey asked.

  “No,” Eric replied. “I’m going in with my Cicada.”

  “What?” Crusher said. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said. “A hunch.”

  “A hunch...” Crusher said.

  “That’s right,” Eric said. “The scout Eagleeye sent in was never spit out. Whereas the mechs were. I have a feeling that smaller objects have a better chance of survival. So I’m going in with my Cicada.”

  “You could be completely wrong,” Brontosaurus said.

  “But I could also be completely right,” Eric told his friend.

  “You’re sure about this, Scorpion?” Marlborough asked.

  “Surer than I’ve ever been about anything,” Eric replied, more confidently than he felt.

  He returned to his Devastator mech, and opened up the storage compartment. He removed a sack containing a score of demolition bricks, then he walked toward the dark opening ahead. Alone.

  “Dee, instruct my mech to take cover behind the intersection,” Eric ordered.

  His mech promptly retreated from view.

  Eric continued forward, the trepidation rising. He had no idea what awaited beyond that opening. Probably his own death.

  Strangely, he was at peace with that fact. But he still felt the fear.

  “Hey Scorp,” Frogger said. “Are you a penitent man?”

  Eric paused. “Huh?”

  “Don’t you remember Indiana Jones 3?” Frogger said. “When you sense anything going wrong in there, kneel!”

  “That’s right,” Mickey said. “Because only the penitent men can proceed. Or something.”

  “Um, yeah,” Eric said. “Your little attempts at pop culture humor aren’t really helping. I’m not in an Indiana Jones movie here.”

  “But you could be!” Mickey said excitedly. He quickly mellowed his tone. “Sorry. You’re right. You could die in there.”

  “Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Eric said. Though in truth, the jibes of Frogger and Mickey did lift his spirits, if only a little.

  If only life were a movie. Then we would have repelled the aliens long before they ever destroyed half the Earth. And we wouldn’t have our minds trapped in machines like this. In fact, we would have never died in the first place. I’d still have Molly, and—

  No.

  He refused to allow his thoughts down that route, because there was no coming back if he did. He was happy now. Or at least, he had been happy, when he had been living on Earth, before the current mission. So happy. Bambi and Crusher had been so good to him. He was doing this for them. And for his other platoon mates.

  Because he didn’t want anyone else to die.

  I’m the only Original left. It’s my turn to go.

  Filled with dread, he stepped into the doorway.

  15

  Darkness surrounded Eric.

  He immediately lost communications with the rest of the team, their indicators frozen on the overhead map.

  A Faraday cage of some kind.

  His Cicada body appeared as a blue outline to his own eyes in the darkness, something that was visible only to him.

  He activated LIDAR, and echolocation, but neither helped penetrate the darkness. He tried his mini headlamp, and could see the deck below and slightly in front of him thanks to the resultant pool of light, but nothing more. He stood on an island in the dark. The surface below seemed to be made of a smooth, seamless metal.

  He turned that lamp around until he was facing the entrance he had just stepped through. The light illuminated a dim film in place of the doorway, blocking the view of the passageway beyond: some kind of energy membrane covered the opening. He had seen similar tech aboard the mothership of twenty years before: then, it had served as an airlock of sorts to keep different atmospheres from mixing or leaking into the void. But as far as he could tell the atmosphere in the current compartment was the same as outside.

  “Dee, what do you think the purpose of this membrane is?” Eric asked.

  “Likely to keep out all light and other EM waves, including those used in communication,” his Accomp replied.

  “Lines up with what I’m thinking.” Eric turned away from the membrane and took a step forward.

  Movement drew his attention to his side, where another blue outline appeared. A Cicada, visible thanks to positional sharing.

  He turned his headlamp toward the newcomer.

  Bambi.

  “Buddy system,” she commented over a private channel. Her smiling avatar appeared in the lower right of his HUD.

  “No,” Eric transmitted. “Go back.”

  The expression of her avatar set in caricature of defiance. “Too late. I’m here.”

  Eric stiffened. “You don’t understand. I’m doing this for you.”

  “Then don’t do it,” Bambi said. “Because the only way I’m leaving is with you.”

  Eric attempted to shove her but she readily sidestepped.

  “Don’t you think you should be conserving your energy, and attention, for whatever lies inside?” Bambi asked.

  Eric sighed. Then turned around. “Fine, you have a death wish, then come.”

  “Only as much of a death wish as you do,” Bambi quipped. She activated her own headlamp
. “Gotta be some kind of light dampener in here. Our headlamps should be penetrating much farther. They’re not this weak.”

  “Yeah well, we have to work with it.” Eric retrieved a charge from the sack he carried, and knelt to plant it on the floor now. The explosive brick appeared as a red outline thanks to his HUD. “Did you bring any demolition blocks?”

  He glanced at her Cicada, aiming his headlamp lower down, and spotted a similar sack to his own.

  “I certainly did,” Bambi said.

  “Lay them as you go,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Boss,” Bambi said.

  He glanced at the membrane behind him. “By the way, don’t tell me Crusher is coming, too.”

  Bambi sounded sad. “No. I convinced her to stay behind. I told her that one of us has to live.”

  “Sort of like what I used to tell Frogger,” Eric said.

  Her avatar smiled weakly. “Yes. Except her and I are not clones of one another. So if we die, all we have are our backups. Whereas at least you have Frogger. Your mind clone.”

  “What are you saying?” Eric said. “You and Crusher are going to get jiggy with Frogger if I die here?”

  Bambi laughed. “I don’t think so. He’s too infatuated with that virtual girlfriend of his he’s programmed. What’s her name? Molly.”

  Eric didn’t answer. Instead, he kept a wary eye on the darkness around him, knowing that death awaited somewhere beyond the edge of the light.

  Bambi kept quiet at least: she realized the time for fun and games had passed. If she wanted to survive, she had to remain alert, like him.

  He continued to place charges two meters apart on the floor as he advanced. Bambi did the same. He wasn’t sure if those charges would help, but they did make him feel better: if he died, at least he’d cause some damage.

  Assuming he detonated the charges in time.

  The illuminated island followed him, and because the deck surface was featureless metal, there were no imperfections to give him a gauge on his progress, and it almost seemed to remain stationary so that it was like he wasn’t moving at all. The only time he had some sense of progression was when he placed a charge: the sensation lasted only the short while the brick remained in view.