Jantine rolled back onto her feet, grabbed one of the supply packs that had slid to the back of the cab, and threw it to JonB as he turned toward her. He looked like he was about to say something, but Jantine didn’t wait to find out what it was. Instead, she shouldered several packs of her own and stepped off the engine and down onto the bridge.
There was another hissing sound, this time much closer. Jantine looked for the source, and saw Jason separating the remaining cars from the engine. Another pair of purple lights flashed in the distance, and out of the corner of her eye Jantine thought she saw one of the figures rise into the air on a small column of flame.
Then Jason grabbed the bottom of the car in front of him and lifted. The boxy container they’d been bouncing around in since dawn came up off the tracks, and veins stood out on his arms as he found a better grip on the heavy weight. Jason took two staggering steps forward and then tilted the car to the left until it fell on its side with a loud crash. The car behind it jerked forward and jumped off the tracks as well, and came to rest with its length half on, half off the tracks.
Not content with simply tipping the container over, Jason braced himself against the nearest wheel assembly and pushed. Sparks flew off the steel bars as the container rotated until it was nearly perpendicular to its previous orientation. The trailing car separated with a shrieking, tearing sound, and rolled down the small hill toward the ruined city.
Then the bridge shook again, as O-6913 thundered past to join Jason. The Omegas each took hold of a long metal bar on the underside of the container, and pulled the protesting container back until its bottom surface came up against the metal support beams of the bridge’s superstructure. On its side, the container nearly blocked access to the bridge, leaving only two meters of space and a slight inclined gap between them.
JonB landed beside Jantine with a small cry of pain, and she turned to look at him with incredulous eyes. He was lying on his side, helmet off, and facing away from her. When he rolled over, his face was even paler than usual. But what drew Jantine’s attention was the blood-covered pack he was clutching to his chest with his right arm.
Jantine dropped the two she was carrying and rushed to his side. She lifted the pack away, expecting to see a horrible wound on his chest. Instead she saw a drying smear on the outside of his encounter suit, but no sign that the smart fabric had sealed over a puncture.
"I’m okay. I can’t feel it. We should . . . we should get moving."
Jantine put her left arm under JonB’s shoulders and reached for his face with her right, turning it to the side and trying to spot any head wounds hidden in his dark hair. The starry sky gave off enough light for travel and most operations, but she couldn’t tell if he was bleeding or not.
An explosion shook the bridge, and yellow white light poured over the overturned car and dispelled the shadows for just a moment. Jantine blinked twice, fixing JonB’s image in her mind, though in that brief glance she saw no blood in his hair or on his neck. She was about to ask him what had happened when a broad orange hand scooped her up and carried her away.
"No, wait. Put me down!"
Whichever one of the Omegas had tucked her under his arm ignored her shouted commands, and Jantine had a bouncing view of the river through the bridge’s supports as he ran. She heard JonB grunt behind her, and then saw Katra skip by holding several grenades. The Gamma didn’t slow down as she ran up one of the bridge’s angled support beams, and then the Omega was past her, each step shaking the bridge until Jantine thought it might collapse just from the vibrations.
There was a second explosion across the river as the Omega reached the other side, and Jantine was unceremoniously deposited next to the tracks facing away from the bridge. She spun around, drew her hand pulser, and tried to spot Katra or Mira coming across. Two columns of flame and smoke stretched up to the sky, but she couldn’t see either woman.
Serene was crying just off to her left, but her fear seemed to be back under control for now. The Alpha was clinging to one of Artemus’s legs, and as soon as she recognized Jantine she disengaged and threw her arms around the Beta’s waist.
Jantine was moving back onto the tracks at the time, helmet off and trying to get a better view as to what was happening on the bridge. The unexpected impact was enough to unbalance her, and she sat down hard between the tracks with Serene still clinging to her midsection. The other Omega was charging hard, straight in her direction, and not knowing what else to do, Jantine curled up around Serene and closed her eyes.
When there was no bone crushing impact, Jantine raised her head and saw the back of JonB’s encounter suit just centimeters away. Serene stopped crying long enough to ask a question.
"What happened to your hand?"
Jantine didn’t understand the question. Both her hands were on Serene’s back, the left pressed against the child’s spine and the right holding her pulser. She raised both, twisting her wrists in the starlight and trying to find some defect in her encounter suit.
"I fell down under the train, and it started moving," JonB said. "It’s okay, I can’t feel it. These suits have pain blocking medications."
His voice was flat, and full of the same artificial calm that Doria’s had had at the end. Jantine tried to sit up, but with Serene in her arms she didn’t have enough leverage to do more than raise her back up slightly.
When Jon B twisted around to help her, the stump of his left arm hit her in the face, and he started screaming.
Katra
~ARE THEY CLEAR?~
~Yes. JonB and Jantine are across now. She is fine, but he is . . .~
~Doesn’t matter. Tell me when we’re done.~
Katra nodded, not sure if the gesture would translate over the mental link with Mira. There was nothing either of them could do about the Beta’s injury, and the machines now perched on top of the overturned container car would kill everyone if they were not stopped.
The pair of killer machines seemed impervious to the flames and smoke surrounding them. Whatever Mira had used to detonate the cars was still burning hot enough that Katra’s visor optics couldn’t make out many details. One thing she was certain of, though, was that the machines’ heads were swiveling back and forth in an attempt to locate her, in motions eerily similar to those the Omegas had used aboard the Valiant. Beyond them, the remains of a third machine were indistinguishable from the wreckage of the first container.
The one that had our supplies.
Katra didn’t think Mira made the wrong decision in destroying the container; it had bought enough time for the rest of the mods to cross the bridge and for herself to climb inside the engine compartment. And although it had only eliminated one of the machines, it was an effective enough demonstration to make the other two pause before continuing their assault.
From where Katra was lying on one of the bridge’s middle support frame, she had a good view of the entire span, including the packs Jantine had discarded when tending to JonB. If they were the ones from the engine compartment, among other things they contained the only replacement energizers in a thousand light years.
Katra wasted only a moment formulating a retrieval plan; it was clear to her that any such attempt would betray Mira’s position in the engine to the enemy. Her rifle was of no use without a charge, but she definitely wouldn’t be firing it if Mira wasn’t around to perform another of her miraculous reversals.
Katra was not a strategist; in a society that produced Betas to plan and execute battle plans, few Gammas were. But she recognized this failing in herself at an early age, and hoping to unlock the intricacies of war, she’d studied it obsessively for many years. Her knowledge of military tactics and history was extensive, but it wasn’t until very recently that she’d had an opportunity to apply it practically.
Now she faced machines that did what she could not; adapt to changing situations and conquer. Moltke the Elder, a classic Earth strategist, maintained that no battle plan survived contact with the enemy. On the ot
her side of the equation, the robots epitomized the "utmost use of force" Moltke’s mentor Clausewitz warned against.
The humans invented them to kill us, but they only succeeded in killing themselves.
~Get ready to move. Sixty seconds.~
Katra tightened her grip on the incendiary grenades in her hand. She wished there was more she could do to help Mira than offer a distraction, but the Earther’s bewildering plans had kept both of them alive so far, and there was no reason to question them now.
Without Mira’s relentless optimism and the "fool’s luck" common in so many of the military leaders of Earth’s past, Katra would probably have been killed several times over by now. Her continued survival was proof enough that trusting Mira was the best strategy, and if there was a way to survive this latest encounter, Katra was sure the woman would find it.
One of the machines extended a metal leg to the edge of the support frame, and another into the gap leading down to the edge of the bridge. Unlike the solid ground the burning container sat on, the bridge’s surface level was a rusting nightmare of empty spaces and good intentions.
Mira’s latest theory was that the demolition charges built into the bridge and the tracks in front of it were meant to contain the machines, and the structure’s current condition spoke to at least one previous attempt by the robots at a crossing. It would have been far easier to clear out any potential blockages in the tunnel than to disarm the charges, even assuming they’d found them all. JonB was supposed to have temporarily disabled the otherwise effective defense against them, at least over part of the span.
If the fifty meters separating the train engine from the robots was any indication, he must have been at least partially successful. But that distance was only a tenth of the bridge’s total length, and the machines could run much faster than people. As the fires died down, the time was running out for whatever contingency plan Mira was enacting inside the engine.
~Almost done. Any change?~
~Fire’s almost out. They’re testing the bridge.~
~Good. That’s what we want them to do.~
Katra trusted that Mira either knew what she was doing or was lying to keep her calm. It was a very different style of command than she was used to, and despite her impending violent death, Katra had to admit that she liked it.
~I’m clear. Do it.~
Katra armed the first grenade and let it drop to the bridge’s surface. She set the second to detonate after a five-second delay and set it down on the support beam she was using as a perch. She took two skipping, antigravity hops away from the grenade, and set up to observe the results on the next section of superstructure.
She didn’t have long to wait. With the flames nearly extinguished, one of the machines was wedging itself between the overturned train car and the bridge’s rusted frame. Metal shrieked as it extended two pairs of legs on either side of its body, shoving the container far enough back for the second machine to step cautiously down onto the tracks.
The grenades detonated on schedule, and as Mira had planned the machines charged forward to attack the twin heat sources but found themselves blocked from advancing by the engine. Mira grabbed the packs and dove off the side of the bridge, body heat masked by both the fires and her hardsuit.
Not for long, though. The machines started pushing the engine forward but found it much harder to move than the overturned container. The engine’s wheels screamed in protest, and sparks flew as metal ground against metal. Meter by meter, the three technological relics advanced across the bridge.
Even filtered through her helmet, the sound was painful, and Mira’s voice in her head was a welcome distraction.
~Five seconds. See you on the other side.~
Katra turned her back on the machines and selected a route down the superstructure to where the other mods were gathering around JonB. Jantine was holding his back to her chest, rocking back and forth while Carlton knelt in front of them.
Seeing the three Betas together was a painful reminder of the closeness she would never have now that Jarl was dead, and Katra tried to imagine herself in Jantine’s place. She lingered a heartbeat too long on the fantasy of raising children with a compatible mate, and was caught unprepared when the bridge exploded.
As she tumbled headlong towards surface of the rushing river, Katra had just enough time to wonder how the encounter suit’s impact systems would handle a fall from such a great height, and whether or not she’d remain conscious as she died.
BOOK THREE
Mordecai
MORDECAI HARRISON WOKE UP TO AN URGENT knocking at his bedroom door. He gave what he felt was the only proper response: burying his face in his pillow and pretending he didn’t hear anything. When the knock repeated, even that pleasure was denied him.
"Doctor Harrison. Doctor Harrison. There’s something you need to see. Doctor, are you in there?"
"G’way. M’sleeping. Leave an old man alone, why don’t you?"
When a third round of knocking started, Mordecai gave serious consideration to hiding under his bed. Paul Czegeny was an able assistant, but as the husband of Mordecai’s grandniece he enjoyed a few privileges most students did not.
Like the key sequence to my private quarters. Go away, Paul. I’m tired. Damned if I know what Chrissia sees in you anyway.
Tired was perhaps too mild a term from how worn out he felt. Four straight days of hearings, posturing, and screaming fits by the senior captains of the fleet was enough to wear down a man half his age, and that was without the daily trips up the elevator to the habitats. Floating back down on whatever shuttle was flying near Old Chicago was the best part of his day now, if you took out the increasingly rare hours when he could sleep in his own bed.
"Mordecai, are you going to get out of bed or not? You’re not going to want to miss this."
Surrendering to the inevitable, Mordecai rolled over and opened his eyes. When he swung his real leg off the bed and reached for his prosthetic, the room sensed his motions and brought up the lights just enough to aid his search but not enough to dazzle his remaining eye.
I should just let them replace the rest of me next time. It’s getting harder and harder to get though the day without squinting. I hear the new model eyes can read signs on the moon, if the comsats are in the right locations.
"Mordecai?"
"I’m awake, Paul. What time is it in your universe?"
The artificial leg warmed at his touch, a feature he’d come to appreciate over the last year. He fitted it in place and waited for the pseudo-nerves to reacquaint themselves with those in his stump.
The leg they’d fitted him with during his rehabilitation was a cold and lifeless half-measure, little more than a jointed crutch. Once he’d learned to walk again, a "real" prosthetic was manufactured and calibrated to his gait, and there were almost five minutes every day when he didn’t hate everything about it.
Almost everything. At least it’s warm.
"Enter."
The door slid back into the wall, and light from the other side framed Paul waiting with a data cube in his hand.
"That couldn’t wait? I’ve got a full day ahead of me chairing oversight committees and babysitting idiots with guns."
Paul took a step back while Mordecai stood up and shrugged into an old sweater he picked up from his chair. It hung low enough to hide the top of his prosthetic, but more importantly, it had a packet of stims in one of the pockets. The older man popped one in his mouth and chewed it as he shuffled out of his sleep chamber. When he entered his main living area, the smart room obediently dimmed the lights and began disinfecting the bed.
Yawning, Mordecai looked at Paul’s tired face. His assistant was usually impeccably dressed and composed—a virtual spokesmodel for the Reclamation government. But something in the man’s blue eyes told him that this was definitely not a social call.
He looks serious, for once.
"Fine, fine. Queue it up while I get some coffee. They do have coffee in yo
ur universe, don’t they?"
"You’ll sit and watch this, then we’ll grab something on the go. And you should think about pants today; makes you look more professorial."
A harrumphing grunt marked Mordecai’s full emergence from sleep. Paul’s jokes were never funny unless he was awake enough to dislike them.
Paul slotted the cube into Mordecai’s desk terminal then entered the sleep chamber to find him some clothes. As the sigil of the Harrison Institute for Applied Sciences coalesced above the desk, Mordecai called over his shoulder:
"Don’t mess around with my system. All the clothes are stored according to precise axioms, and a novice like you will just make a mess of things. Take whatever’s on top and come tell me what I’m supposed to be looking at."
Mordecai reached a shaking and spotted hand out to the image. The sigil dissolved in a shower of particles, only to reform into an image taken from what looked like one of the topside securecams.
The angle looks right, but I don’t recognize the ruins. Little wonder, I suppose, as I haven’t been up there in years.
"Keep watching. And I know you own socks, so don’t think you’re getting away with wearing one of these outfits. You can’t just wear robes all the time, even in your own universe."
Paul’s use of a Russellism made him chuckle. Mordecai knew he wasn’t a devotee, but Paul did try to "keep the old man happy" over and above what was required of his position. Unfortunately, Paul lived in the same universe as almost everyone else and was decades away from being able to embrace his own continuum.
Now then, what’s all this fuss about an empty courtyard?
Mordecai kept watching, pointedly ignoring Paul’s failed efforts to divine where the real clothes were kept. Sooner or later he would ask for help, and his universe would align with Mordecai’s. But the holo existed in another continuum altogether, neither concealing nor revealing anything of interest.
Mordecai turned his hand over and pushed his palm into the image to collapse it. With only one eye, a holo never looked right, and he wanted to understand what was important enough that someone had convinced Paul to interrupt his sleep. Nothing seemed to be happening, so he expanded the image to make sure the timestamp was accurate.
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