Johnny Winger and the Europa Quandary

by Philip Bosshardt

  ***…estimating distance at two thousand microns…closing fast, General…recommend disrupters forward, charge enable…and run your propulsors to full…are you going for a speed pass with reversing grapple, General?***

  That was exactly what Winger had in mind. It was a tactic he knew well. He’d tried it first years ago against an enemy called Serengeti and had honed the maneuver to perfection in the decades since.

  “That’s affirmative, Doc…hold on to your hat—“

  When it came, the collision was like being caught in a riptide, trapped between two strong currents, just like riding the Cyclone…that’s how he liked to think of it.

  The swarms slammed into each other. Winger caught a brief glimpse of one of the bots…it was an ANAD clone to be sure: from its spherical processor head to its actuator mast and central casing, to its flagellar screws at the bottom, the thing resembled a misshapen stack of nested cylinders with arms waving around, all its effectors extended just begging to be ripped off.

  Whoever’s driving doesn’t know much about combat down here.

  For many minutes, Winger slashed and jabbed, grappled and danced, and in the end, he knew he had the upper hand when he found himself turning and burning with nothing to attack. He’d already made atom fluff out of every bot he’d encountered, though he wasn’t sure where the master bot was. That was the key. Find the head and cut it off. That’s how you killed a swarm.

  “Doc, I need to find the master…any really high thermals or EMs in the area?” His own experience had taught him that: find the hottest spot, where some big processor was churning out commands to the swarm and you’d found the master.