by D C Macey
Turning his back on the office, he threw down the empty weapon and ran to catch up with the retreating morani. One was wounded and hobbled along while the other two rushed ahead with Bob; they were almost at the bush line. As Sam caught up with the wounded moran, he forced his arm round and under the man’s shoulder, supporting and pulling him ahead. ‘Come on, man, we’ll make it,’ he said.
The moran grunted a response and both men focused on reaching the bush.
From the corner of his eye, Sam caught a glimpse of the senior moran leading his attack team at the run back from the end of the runway. They each had a bulky tube slung over their shoulder. Sam’s heart sank - that team should already have been safe at the rendezvous point and under cover of the bush. They were taking too long to get back. There was nothing he could do.
Just as Sam and his team reached the bush, gunfire resumed behind them. Dust kicked up around their feet, leaves twitched and flicked, and Sam felt his shirt tugged as a round whizzed past, too close to think about. Then they were in cover and out of sight. The gunfire stopped for a moment, its sound replaced by the shouts of the senior moran urging his men on.
Sam handed the wounded moran on to his colleagues. A little ahead, he could see Helen leaving Bob and moving towards the wounded man, first aid kit in her hand. He turned back towards the runway and, dropping to his hands and knees, quickly crawled back to the bush line. Charles was already there; they nodded at one another just as the patta patta sound of automatic fire resumed.
Sam and Charles watched in horror as, one by one, the senior moran and his team dropped on to the runway. In only seconds, they were all down. Sam gritted his teeth and reached out to restrain Charles from running out into the open as the guns worked up and down the line of wounded men three times. By the third pass, it was clear there would be nobody left to save. All the morani were dead. Sam could feel the rage pulsing through Charles.
‘They must all die,’ said Charles. ‘All of them.’ The restrained balance that normally played through all his spoken English was missing now. This was a chief needing to avenge his fallen warriors. ‘That was murder, no need to shoot them three times.’
Sam understood Charles’ pain and was furious at the loss of such good proud men. But his concern was different. He needed the shoulder missile launchers that were now lying abandoned amongst the dead. Without them, he could not destroy ACE. Now Koreans were darting from the office door and heading for the warehouse. Sam couldn’t make out exactly what they were doing.
There was a rustling behind Sam then Bob Prentice, his untethered legs slowly regaining mobility, was lying between him and Charles.
Bob saw the bodies lying on the runway. ‘Damn, Ro. That’s always the way with him, he’s a butcher.’
‘He will pay,’ said Charles. He turned his head to look at Bob. ‘I hope you were worth it.’
Bob didn’t reply, just rested his hand on the chief’s shoulder.
Sam rolled onto his side and stuck out his hand. Bob took it and they shook warmly. ‘Charles, this is Colonel Bob Prentice, my good friend and one-time commanding officer.’
Charles and Bob shook hands.
‘So, Sam, we can catch up later, I’ll look forward to learning why it’s you leading a rescue mission after your years away. Right now, though, where are the troops? We need to deal with Ro at once.’
‘No troops, just me, Charles and his warriors - the morani.’
‘Hell, no backup at all?’
‘Sorry, it’s down to us.’
‘Look at those,’ said Charles. ‘What are they?’ He pointed across to the warehouse where the backdoor to the oddly shaped British military Land Rover had opened. A little ramp had slid out and, one after the other, four what looked like big shoeboxes on wheels were rolling down. They assembled in an orderly line beside their control vehicle.
‘They’re Rollers and that’s their control vehicle. We need to move now,’ said Bob. ‘We need to be away before they get started.’
‘What are they?’ said Sam.
‘Come on, I’ll tell you as we go. We must fall back now.’
‘What’s the panic Bob?’
‘It’s ACE. Ro’s going to …’ His voice trailed off as a percussive whooshing sound came from the Land Rover, which had been manoeuvred out from beneath the warehouse roof to launch a series of smoke bombs into the sky. More whooshing sounds followed as more smoke bombs flew high overhead.
Helen joined them. ‘What is it Sam? What’s going on?’ She pointed up into the sky where a pattern of smoke bombs hung in the air, each suspended on a miniature parachute, and they all dispersed billowing clouds of light brown smoke. ‘Look at them all.’
The billowing smoke was spreading as the bombs dropped slowly down. Sam reckoned they were dispersing along the whole length of the runway and he couldn’t work out how far back, perhaps all the way back to the vehicles.
‘How far to your vehicles?’ said Bob.
‘Three, maybe four hundred yards.’
‘We won’t make it in time,’ said Bob.
‘What are we running from? Is it a gas attack? Is that what your ACE is, a chemical weapon?’
‘No, not chemicals.’
Bob reached round and pulled Sam’s pistol from his waistband. Sam looked startled, then puzzled.
‘What’s going on Bob?’
Bob thrust the weapon into Sam’s hand. ‘Shoot me, kill me now. It’s your only chance to get away. Shoot me now before ACE becomes fully active.’
Charles stretched across with his spear and pressed it lightly down on to Sam’s forearm. ‘Many morani just died to keep him alive. Nobody is going to kill him now, he must live.’
‘Don’t worry, Charles; I have no intention of shooting him.’
Bob’s face contorted with anxiety, he glanced out across the runway to where the four little vehicles remained motionless on the ground. ‘Look, kill me or you’re all done for. It’s that simple. ACE stands for Autonomous Combat Entity. Those little monsters over there will take you all.’ He waved his hand up into the sky. That’s not a smoke bomb cloud, it’s a mote cloud.’
‘Mote cloud?’ said Helen.
‘Yes. A multitude of tiny manufactured motes. Think of the house dust motes you see drifting down through a shaft of sunlight, only here each one is a tiny sensor that can pick up movements and share the knowledge with the surrounding motes. They only communicate a couple of paces but that’s all that’s needed. By the time that lot settle, they will have blanketed this area, a half mile in every direction. We’ll never make it to the vehicles.’
‘Bob, slow down, you’re not making sense,’ said Sam.
‘Look it’s simple. The motes form a detector grid. They’re far too small for you to see them but very numerous; they all just sit there and register every footstep, every rolling wheel that passes by. They tell their neighbours who tell theirs and so on. That control vehicle unleashes the four Rollers into the mote grid and they just work their way through it, communicating with and through the motes. Hunting any walking man or moving vehicle, always calculating the most efficient intercept routes. Working independently, in pairs, all together, they decide what’ll work best. Believe me, you can’t hide. They’ll know where you are, where you’re going and when you’re changing direction. The motes are already settling now, the network will be forming as we speak. There’s no time. Just shoot me while you can.’
Charles threw Bob a look of disdain. ‘We came to help you. If it’s so bad, stay and help us, why take the coward’s way out?’
Bob sighed in exasperation, put his head in his hands and shook it. ‘No, no, no. Listen, right now everyone in the mote grid, except me, is on borrowed time. I think it’s already too late. Any moment now the motes will complete their network, tell the control vehicle and then it’s a turkey shoot and you are the turkeys. No escape, period.’
‘Not you?’ said Helen.
‘No, I’m a living key, what the monster feeds off.
Listen, ACE is so lethal it’s fitted with the latest bio-security measures. An ACE unit is programmed to its controller. The mote network is constantly scanning for the controller’s biorhythms. The system only works if the motes are aware of the controller’s presence, that’s why Ro has needed me. Fire it up without my presence, and it will auto-fry everything. The kit is useless without the controller. It will simply self-destruct. It’s a failsafe to ensure the system can’t be used against us by an enemy.’
‘Bob Prentice, what the hell have you been doing since I left you?’
‘You don’t want to know, believe me. But believe me, too, your only hope now is to shoot me. Once I’m dead, there are no biorhythms for the motes to detect and the weapon will start a phase down, within two minutes the message will have filtered through the whole mote grid, the control vehicle and the Rollers and then it will simply self-destruct completely, burn itself out. And that will leave Ro with nothing.’
‘We haven’t come this far to lose you now. There must be something we can do,’ said Sam.
‘But if you’re the controller, how is it working now without your instructions?’ said Helen.
‘Anyone with the operator’s handbook can activate the system from the control vehicle; the system just needs to be aware of my living presence in the theatre. Oh, and of course, the Rollers know not to shoot their controller.’
‘Look, your little Rollers are moving. They’re fast,’ she said.
‘Yes, electric, and they have solar power capacity, like the motes, so once deployed they look after themselves.’ Bob shouted into the surrounding bush areas. ‘Everyone listen - nobody move, do not walk under any circumstances, and just stay still.’
Charles realised his morani would not understand and translated the message, shouting it into the bush. He couldn’t be sure his message was heard by his warriors who he had already directed back to the vehicles with their wounded comrade.
Helen, Sam, Charles and Bob stood in motionless silence for a few moments. Angel hovered immediately behind Helen. From their position, just inside the bush line, they were concealed but still had a clear view out across the runway; a direct line of sight over the bodies of the dead morani to the office block on the far side. More bodies lay there, dead, Ro’s men. The rear door to the oddly shaped Land Rover was still open; a man appeared at the doorway, a bullhorn in his hand.
‘Ro,’ said Bob.
‘Hmm, he hasn’t changed,’ said Sam. ‘I wonder if he knows it’s me here to rescue you.’
Bob looked at him. ‘If he does, then guaranteed he will have something nasty lined up for you. Last time we crossed paths you messed up his little scheme in Brunei, remember? And I don’t have Ro marked down as the forgiving type. Oh, and how exactly is this a rescue?’ He gave a dry laugh, Sam joined in.
‘Come on guys,’ said Helen. ‘This is not the time for laughing. And Sam, this is the time for you to come up with some great plan to get us off the hook. Let’s focus guys.’ Helen put her arm round a very nervous looking Angel. ‘Don’t worry, Sam will come up with something, he always does.’
Angel gave her a smile that lacked conviction.
Sam was eyeing up the shoulder-launched rocket tubes lying scattered amongst the dead morani. ‘If I could get one of those and take out the control vehicle, that might do the trick.’
The Rollers were buzzing to and fro across the runway, weaving crazy patterns, sometimes independently, and sometimes in concert.
‘No, once the system is activated and up and running, the Rollers have all the computing power necessary to interact independently with the mote network. If you take out the control vehicle, all you do is destroy the off switch not switch it off. It’s only a few moments before they are ready, that little dance they’re doing is a calibration procedure.’
‘I could try to take the Rollers out.’
‘Yes, you might get one, two if you are very lucky before they get you.’
‘Well if that’s all we’ve got, let’s hope I’m lucky,’ said Sam, preparing to make a dash for the rocket launch tubes.
The bullhorn cracked and whistled as Ro raised it to his mouth. ‘Colonel Prentice. I know you can hear me. I can see where you are on the control vehicle’s display panel. There is no hiding place. I want you to step out into the open now. If you do, I will spare your friends. On that you have my word.’
Just as Ro stopped speaking, the four Rollers stopped their dance, coming again to a halt in a neat line in front of their control vehicle.
Four heavily armed men, each dressed in camouflage fatigues, had emerged from the office building and lined up beside the Rollers. Ro shouted an order at them and pointed to the 4 x 4 parked beside his control vehicle. Two men got into the vehicle; the other two stepped out onto the runway, beside the Rollers.
‘Why aren’t they worried about being shot by the Rollers?’ said Sam.
‘They’ll have ID recognition tabs on. That’s how the Rollers can distinguish between friend and foe while moving through the grid.’
One of the Koreans stooped to place something on a Roller. Ro raised the bullhorn again. ‘Colonel Prentice I’m sending you a package.’
Suddenly, the Roller started to move. It pulled away from the pack, moved directly out to the middle of the runway and then paused momentarily before running twenty yards up the centreline, turning and retracing its route.
‘What’s it doing?’ said Sam.
‘Deciding where it wants to go. It must have a mission.’
‘I thought they were autonomous.’
‘Yes, but they can be instructed from the control vehicle too. Look it’s on the move.’
The Roller suddenly darted forward, faster than a man could run. It moved silently over the runway and disappeared into the bush around thirty paces to Sam and Helen’s left.
‘I get that the motes form a detector matrix on the ground, so the Rollers know where people are relative to their own positions, but how are they able to manoeuvre round things? How do they know where rocks or trees and bushes are?’ said Sam.
‘That sounds hard, but it was actually one of the easier design issues to resolve. In fact, it fixed itself. As the dust motes settle, they land on everything, not just the ground. Rocks bushes, old tree stumps. If it’s out there, it will get covered. The motes are constantly fixing their positions relative to the grid. Not just left and right, behind and ahead, it’s up and down too. So, it’s forming a three-dimensional map. It doesn’t know if the bump ahead is a rock or a tree stump; just knows it’s an obstacle and drives round …’ Bob stopped talking. The colour had drained from his face and he directed a meaningful stare beyond Sam.
Cautiously, Sam turned - his heart sank. The Roller, that only moments before had entered into the bush further along the runway, had plotted a course through the wild undergrowth, around rocks, trees and bushes and was now moving directly towards them. In size, the squat little construct was similar in proportions to a big shoebox fitted with four disproportionately large wheels that kept the box well clear of the ground. On the top was mounted a little device that looked for all the world as though it had been modelled on a frigate’s automatic gun turret.
‘Nobody move,’ said Bob.
The Roller stopped directly in front of Bob. The walkie-talkie resting behind the gun turret squawked and then Ro’s voice came through. ‘Colonel Prentice. Pick up the radio.’
‘Hello, Ro. Prentice here.’
‘Good, Colonel Prentice. Now let’s not waste any time, I’ve got a tight schedule to keep. I want you to walk out of the bush and onto the runway right now.’
‘And I’ll do that because?’
‘Because if you don’t, I will shoot all the pathetic little rescue party around you, and then my men will still be able to bring you in. Now, please, come out onto the runway.’
‘What’s the big hurry, Ro? We’re all out here in the middle of nowhere, isn’t there some other way to handle this?’
‘No.’
The Roller suddenly kicked into action; executing a smart turn, it rolled silently off, deeper into the bush, and vanished from sight.
‘Colonel Prentice, can Captain Cameron hear me?’
‘He can hear you.’
‘Good. It’s been a long time Captain Cameron. I’ve often thought how nice it would be for our paths to cross again.’
‘It’s just Cameron now, Ro. I’m a civilian.’
‘And yet, here you are. Once again, intruding into my world. It has to stop, and I think today is the day for stopping.’
‘Get on with it Ro. I won’t give you any ground.’
Helen was listening intently. She knew that Sam’s time in the military had involved some tricky moments, but he had never talked too much about it. Being in the Intelligence Corps covered a lot of ground. Anything from interpreting aerial photographs and deciphering codes all the way up the scale to, well, clearly to this.
‘No, I know you won’t give ground. But my spotters in Nairobi picked up that you don’t travel alone any more. It seems you have come on an accompanied posting to a combat zone. I think that was a mistake. Out here, you’re in my domain, I will call the shots, quite literally, Mr Cameron. And she’s very pretty, if you like redheads. Which I do.’
‘Leave her out of this, Ro. She’s nothing to do with you and me.’
‘Oh, but she is. Any special friend of yours merits special treatment from me. And she will have it.’
Charles let out a shout. Pointing onto the runway. ‘I think one of the morani is still alive, I saw a movement.’ He didn’t hesitate and sprinted out from the bush onto the runway where he hurried to his surviving warrior.
‘No! Stay still!’ said Bob,’ but Charles was already gone. Ignoring Bob’s instruction, Helen immediately followed with the first aid kit. Angel was torn between the illusory comfort afforded by the bush and his bishop’s instruction to find and protect Helen. He hesitated, but after a moment the bishop won, and he too hurried into the open to join Helen. She was kneeling beside the surviving moran, already assessing his wounds and applying dressings. Charles knelt by the man’s head, cradling it.