by Jay Allan
It expanded its sights, looked out over not only what it could see, but also to the images flashed in from the other landing sites. It calculated quickly, sent out a series of orders to its various subordinates…and then it searched around, and chose a place for its headquarters.
It selected a site not far from its landing zone, and it deployed the defensive units all around. It set up its analysis equipment, and it began tracking the units as they marched off all along the ridgeline. His position was derived from the best readings he could get on the scattered humans. He knew he would have more detailed data shortly, and that he would refine the targeting of his units. But for the moment, the landing slots were as good a place to start as any.
As good a place to start hunting down the surviving humans.
* * *
Til gripped the rifle tightly, moving slowly to the side, as he held his hand up for the others to remain still. He saw one enemy robot, but he suspected there were more. He didn’t want to take any pointless chance of being discovered. Not yet. Not until he had at least gotten a better look at the area.
He eased forward, slowly—so slowly, he was hardly sure he was moving—and he took another look. He knew the enemy could spot him almost any time, but he wanted every second he could get first. He saw another robot, and then a third.
And then the first one saw him.
He caught the action, realized he’d been spotted almost as soon as he had. He jerked hard, pulling himself back from the enemy’s fire. Barely.
He didn’t know how much he’d been missed by, but he would have guessed no more than a few centimeters…if that. He wasn’t even entirely sure he hadn’t been hit, at least not for a few seconds.
“Fire!” he yelled, as he doubled back and pulled his own rifle up, opening up over the berm. He felt a strange combination of terrified and excited as he fired. He had eleven people with him, so if there were only three robots, they had a reasonable chance of winning.
His eyes locked on one of the bots, the closest to him, and he blasted it. He had one of the best weapons, a machine gun, but he fired it wildly at first. He knew he had to be more careful, especially when the ammunition started to run down, but he was still finding his way through everything. And that meant he emptied the thing in a few seconds, and then he reloaded.
The robot he had targeted had been hit, at least a dozen times. Some of them were from him, at least he thought they were, but whatever combination of shots had scored, the robot was in bad shape. It wasn’t destroyed, not yet…but it was barely hanging on. The other two were shot as well, though not as badly, and all three of them had opened fire on his own crew. For whatever reason, and Til figured it was nothing but luck, none of the enemies had fired at him, at least not yet. But now, as he jammed his third cartridge into place, he realized that at least three of his people were down, including the one right next to him.
He caught the image of the man nearest him, lying face up and motionless, and he realized he was dead. The reality gripped him, and for a moment he paused, staring at the body. He was no stranger to dead men, not after the past few days, but this was the first one he’d seen killed under his direct command.
A few seconds later, he turned back, adding anger and rage to the other emotions driving him. He hit again, at least six or seven times. The enemy turned and fired in his direction, but it was in truly bad shape now, its targeting badly off.
Til fired the rest of the third clip, and then he ducked back down, just as a second robot opened fire in his direction. The targeting was much better, and he knew he’d have been dead if he hadn’t jumped down, just in time. He was alive, by a second, or more likely half a second. But he was alive.
He jammed the fourth cartridge into his gun, and after a delay of a few seconds, he lunged to the side, and then turned up, firing at the robot from the side. He shot, on full auto, even as he moved himself over, trying to avoid the now-sporadic incoming fire from the robot. By the time he had exhausted his fourth clip, it was down. He looked, for a second, and he realized it wasn’t completely destroyed. But it didn’t appear to have any operational weapons left. The third one was down, too. He felt a moment of panic, a fear that there were others in the immediate area, but everything was quiet, except for some remaining sporadic fire from his people.
He suddenly lunged forward, changing his cartridge again and moving up to the three robots. Two of them were out, at least apparently, but the third one stared back at him. It was mostly inoperative, and it didn’t have any weapons, but Til could see the hostility in it. He stared back for a few seconds…and then he fired at it, blasting it hard until it was clearly inoperative. Then he went over to the others. One of them was completely out, but the last one was barely alive, moving slowly, trying to escape.
Ty walked up behind it, and he aimed his gun. He stared for a moment, waiting to see if the robot turned around. But it just continued. He watched, for a few seconds. Then he pressed his finger and fired…and blew the back of the robot’s head off.
He looked for a while, perhaps fifteen seconds, perhaps twenty, and he could hear his people coming up behind him. He turned. There had been twelve of them in total when the fight had begun.
There were seven of them now…and two were wounded. That was almost half of them killed…more than half counting the injured. It was cause for concern, for worry…but Til just stood where he was for another few seconds. Then he said only, “Alright…let’s go. We’ve got another three klicks to go.”
Then, he stepped forward, and slipped into a marching pose. His dead were just that now…dead. He would have time to think of them later, when he thought about the thousands of others who were dead, but for now, they were just gone.
* * *
Gosnard stared down at the small display. It wasn’t much, just a wooden table with a tiny map on it. It was primitive, barely usable. It wasn’t terribly helpful, as much because the data it displayed was out of date before it even came in. Its accuracy was poor, and it was barely functional.
But it was all he had.
Gosnard knew the enemy had landed, that there had been battles in half a dozen places. He wasn’t surprised, not exactly, but he found himself somewhat put out by the action, anyway. He’d hoped—if not expected—that the enemy would only bombard the planet. He was far from sure any significant number of his people could have survived that, but now it was far worse. There were robots all around, killing his anyone they found.
He had weapons, at least…enough to equip every survivor, and still have some left. He’d been surprised to find so many guns in deep storage, and he couldn’t claim credit for most of it. One of his predecessors had apparently stored most of them…and he was grateful. Whatever his feelings had been before, now he knew, his choice was simple…survive and win. Or die.
He turned and looked behind him. He had sent most of his people out, at least most of those he knew of. He wasn’t a military man, but it seemed clear enough he had to fight…to the end if necessary. He wanted to pull his people farther back, but he needed better intel on how many enemies he faced, and where they were. Assuming the parties all returned, he should at least have a pretty fair idea of where the enemy was…for a short while, at least.
He looked out of the small camp, almost all of it buried in the caves. It wasn’t obvious, not exactly, but he knew the enemy would be able to track it down fairly quickly. That was one reason why he was pulling his people back…as soon as he determined which way made the most sense.
He felt strange, alone. Til and the few others with which he had strong relationships were all out leading teams. He didn’t want to risk his few close friends, but he’d known he had to send them. He was down to his last options, and he couldn’t take any more chances than he had to. He was far from sure his friends were the best leaders he had, but he knew he could trust them…and that was the most important thing right now.
He was looking out, west, when he heard something coming from almost be
hind him. He spun around, looked at the woods located just a few meters in that direction…when Til came out, followed by four of his people.
Gosnard looked, and he couldn’t help but be relieved at the sight of his best friend…but his joy was somewhat battered when he realized how few of the others followed. There were only five of them present. He’d sent a dozen plus one, and while he imagined a plethora of different explanations…he knew the truth almost immediately.
“Til…I’m glad to see you.” He took three or four steps forward, and then he stopped. Two of the five men were injured…and that included Til. He turned and shouted, “Medic!” Then he raced forward.
“Gosnard…” The ‘sir’ stuff was all used up right now. “…I’m okay…but please see to Fenson.” He gestured toward the man who Gosnard suddenly realized was hurt far worse than he’d thought. He was being held up by another man, and as Gosnard watched, his almost exhausted companion set him down.
“Med…” Elliot had turned and started to yell again, but then he saw that the medic was approaching. The colony had possessed three full doctors, but as far as Elliot could tell, none of them had made it out of town. The medic was one of four medical professionals he knew of who remained to his people, though two of those were with other groups.
Gosnard stepped forward and took a look at Til. He was wounded, but it was fairly clear that it wasn’t too bad. But as he moved ahead, he really saw how bad the other individual was. The medic stepped up, and almost immediately confirmed that to him. He set the man down, and he started working almost immediately.
“Gos…” Til watched the doctor for a few seconds, as did Gosnard, but then he turned back. “The enemy is coming this way, Gos. I think we shook them for a while, but we’ve got to get out of here. Fast.”
Gosnard breathed deeply, and he sighed. “I’m not surprised…but I had hoped we might be able to remain here a bit longer.” It was raw fatigue as much as anything, but now he realized he had to get his people moving. Quickly.
Til shook his head. “No, no way. A couple hours…outside. We’ve got to get whatever we can manage ready to move…and get going as soon as we can.”
Gosnard just nodded. Then he looked over at the medic. The man was deeply involved in what he was doing, but an instant later he said, “I think he’ll live…if I can have maybe forty-five minutes.”
Gosnard nodded, and he said, “You’ve got it…but not much more.” Then he turned toward his friend. “We have to get you looked at, too, old friend. Come on, we’ve got one more medic here…I think he is inside.”
“I’m okay, Gos.”
Gosnard heard the words, but his eyes moved along the wounded arm. The injury wasn’t critical…but it wasn’t nothing either. “Come on, Til…let’s get it looked at quickly.” He turned and yelled to a group of people that had gathered around the large cave entrance. “We’re pulling out…in an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Go get ready, and grab everything we can.” Then he turned back to Til, just as the man was about to argue with him. But he spoke first. “C’mon, Til…let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
Office of Max Harmon
Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 12.18.62
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Max.” Achilles had never had anything but total access to Harmon, but he saw no harm in showing appreciation. “I brought one of my…friends…with me. Theseus.” He was silent, for just a moment. Then he said, “I could talk for a long while, but I know we don’t have much time, perhaps not even enough, so I will get right into it.” He paused again, though just for a short while. “Theseus and some of his people have developed something new…a device which can be used both for detection and for hiding. It is still highly experimental, which is why you don’t even know about it…” Not really true, but hard to disprove. “…but I believe it will work and, perhaps most importantly, I do not believe the Regent has it. Its development was along an entirely different route from imperial technology. It may be one area where we have a true advantage, or at least where we will.”
Max Harmon had been listening, as he always did with Achilles…but the last few sentences really got his attention. “Hello Theseus…welcome to my office.” The words were almost forgotten by the time they were uttered, but Harmon, whatever else he may be, was always polite. “Now, tell me, please, all the details of what you have?” Harmon had maybe a dozen people to whom he looked for decisive results, but Achilles was number one. Even though he didn’t completely trust the Mule.
“It is a new device, and while I can say it has not been sufficiently tested yet, indications are that it will work very well…even that it will detect vessels under the most stringent cloaking protocols, as well as hiding a ship from any other known detection system. In regular circumstances, I wouldn’t recommend it for usage yet, of course, not until it has been stringently tested, but then, these aren’t regular circumstances, are they?”
“No, they aren’t.” A short pause. “Let me clarify something. You mean we can track all the enemy ships, even their scouts? And hide from them as well?”
“Yes…I believe we can. Of course, there is no guarantee…and we have only a single experimental version. Even creating ten or fifteen of them will take some time, perhaps more than we have.”
“Which is why you’re here, I assume?” Harmon didn’t mention that he should have known about the project since its earliest days, and neither did Achilles, though both certainly knew.
“Yes…I am hopeful that you will advance the project at the maximum possible rate.” A pause. “Without the usual delays.” Another useless point. It would be all Mules working on it anyway, and he had already decided to advance it at the maximum speed. What he needed Harmon for was integrating it into the ships of the fleet.
“You mean taking your word alone for it’s effectiveness. For just assuming it will work, without having any research at all done?”
Achilles looked at Theseus, and then back at Max. “I really don’t…”
But Harmon spoke up again, barely after Achilles had started, and he said, simply, “Done.”
Achilles wasn’t often surprised, but he was just then. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“I mean ‘done.’ Achilles, we both know that we are going to have…difficult times…even if the Regent is destroyed, but if it isn’t taken out, we won’t even be here.” Harmon looked up at Achilles and held his hand up. “Please, old friend…don’t lie to me now. Let’s just ignore what we can and worry about the Regent for now. That is more of a concern than whatever comes later. We both know we will have to fight them off…but even if we are able to do that, we will only buy a certain amount of time. Our only hope is finding the enemy’s location…soon.”
Achilles stared back at Harmon. He was impressed. He was aware Harmon had foreseen problems between the Mules and the others, of course, but now he realized just how much the president knew. Or at least how much he had assumed.
But he was right about one thing. The Regent was both of their problems—all of their problems until it was defeated—and it had to be faced first.
He nodded to Harmon, and he followed it up with, “I agree, Max.” Then he turned toward Theseus and exchanged a quick glance. He was sure the younger Mule was as surprised as he was, both at Harmon’s lack of any reaction to the existence of the device, and to the rapidity of his agreement, but he could see that Theseus agreed with the decision.
“We will supply the team to work on the project, if that is okay with you, Max. I am sorry, but everyone who has worked on it so far has been a Mule, and we just don’t have the time for anyone new to get up to speed.” He ignored whether anyone but a Mule could quickly develop an understanding for it, at least quickly enough. He suspected that was true, but he also imagined Harmon might have a different view.
Harmon nodded, and then he said, “Of course, Achilles…but I would still like to circulate the diagrams. After all, the systems will be in
stalled in our ships, and we are all on one side in this.”
Achilles wanted to argue, to keep the device a total Mule secret, but he recognized that Harmon was coming more than halfway. He glanced again at Theseus, getting the idea that he faced a bit of a battle with him, but he agreed, nevertheless. “Very well, Max, but please, assemble your team carefully…and keep it small. We don’t have a lot of time. In fact, we’ll be lucky if we can finish any of the new devices before the enemy arrives.”
Harmon paused for a moment, but then he nodded. “Very well, Achilles…I will send half a dozen engineers over to your compound, just to watch, and I will leave it at that for now.”
Achilles didn’t really believe that’s all Max would do for the long term, but at the moment, he was willing to play for a short duration. “That’s fine, Max.” He could feel a bit of tension from Theseus, but he was fairly confident he could handle it. “Send your people to me as soon as you can, and I will see that they are briefed up to date.”
“Thank you, Achilles. I will have them out at your facility in a couple hours.”
“Very well, Max. Thank you…for all of your support.” Achilles looked over at Theseus, realizing that he had an argument ahead of him, at least with regard to the half dozen engineers. But he was confident he could convince the other Mule, at least enough. He knew Theseus well enough to be fairly sure if he couldn’t be convinced, he would have spoken up in front of Max Harmon…and he hadn’t.
And he was absolutely certain that whatever chance the people—all of the people—had at survival rested on cooperation. At least until the Regent was destroyed.