Brain Games (Rich Weed Book 3)

by Alex P. Berg

  Carl joined in the fray, taking his place at my side, peeking around the side of the press, and filling the air with pulse rounds. The steady rat-tat-tat of Kriggler’s rifle and the irregular crackle of Carl’s pistols fought against the buzzing hailstorm of the droid’s shots. A few clanks and thumps sounded from out in the distance, but I couldn’t tell whether they were from droids crumpling to the floor or from factory equipment lurching into motion. I refused to stick my head out to look.

  Kriggler pulled his gun back, his back pressed against the control panel. He waved his hand over his shoulder, gesturing toward an elevated room in the middle of the factory from which lights now blazed. “We need to stop the factory’s machinery, otherwise we’ll be overwhelmed in no time. I think we’ll find the controls in that tower in the center. I’ll go left and work my way up through the interior. You and Carl head right. Draw fire. You should be able to take the elevated walkways. Meet me there.”

  “Stop the factory’s machinery?” I said. “Are you crazy? You can’t possibly think this is an assault droid factory, do you? Kriggler!”

  It was no use. He’d already popped up and darted off to the side, spraying a cloud of fire toward the droids’ position as he did so. Return bolts plinked and sparked as they impacted the floor in his wake.

  Carl kept firing. He spared me a quick glance. “Anytime you want to pitch in and help, feel free.”

  I pressed a hand against my forehead. “This is insane. A battle droid factory? That’s impossible. An inability to bring harm against humans is a core component of android programming.”

  “Well, these particular droids are firing on us,” said Carl, “and I don’t think they’re doing it out of love.”

  I glared at him. “Sarcasm? Really? You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

  Carl leaned around the corner and shot a half-dozen more rounds. “I’m dealing with reality, Rich. The droids are here. They’re shooting at us. That’s a fact. I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out later. Daayan said Sharp was a hacker. He bought arms from Dundu. The pieces are all there. Right now, my focus is on keeping you alive, and to that end, I could really use some help. You’re the one with the rifle and grenades, after all.”

  I blinked. I still couldn’t believe it, but Carl’s point rang true. If I didn’t get my ass into gear, I wouldn’t have time to figure out the details later.

  With my rifle in hand, I stood and spun, unleashing a flurry of combo rounds in the direction of the conveyer belt. The droids had closed on us since I’d last seen them, but that only made it easier to spot them. A few fell under my muzzle’s fury, but I crouched back down once I’d spied their position. Ripping an EMP grenade from my vest, I activated it, counted to two, and chucked it over the stamping press. I heard a clack as it bounded once, then a bright blue flash warped around me, bringing with it an audible whoosh like that of a car passing at high speed. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and the sound of metallic bodies hitting the floor soon followed.

  I glanced at Carl. He stood, his back pressed against the press, his eyes wide and his arms shaking slightly.

  “Please be careful with those,” he said. “And for the love of science, tell me before you throw one.”

  “Sorry. Got it. What’s the plan?”

  “Kriggler’s right,” said Carl. “We need to draw fire away from him. Chances are we’ll find controls in that elevated room. Let’s head to the walkway ladders. I’ll cover you as you go up, then vice versa.”

  I swung my rifle over the edge and fired off a few more shots. “Are you sure? Even assuming we can get up there in once piece, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  Carl shrugged. “The walkways look to be steel. It’s conductive, and you’re wearing boots and a dispersive suit. You should be fine. Besides, we can use those elevated containers for cover. I think I see some boom controls up there.”

  “Boom, as in crane, or boom, as in explosive?”

  “Rich, this is not the time,” said Carl. “Move! I’ll cover you.”

  I spotted the nearest ladder off to my right and took off at a run—or at least as close as I could get in a half-crouch—sprinting from drill press to extrusion press to stack of crates as pulse rounds rained down around me. Somehow I made it to the ladder without being shot, though my heart threatened to tear through my chest from the overabundance of adrenaline flowing through my veins.

  Carl raced only a step behind me. “They’re looping around behind us, and I spotted more ahead. Looks like they’re coming right off a line. No time to waste. Go! I’ve got you.”

  Carl kept firing. I jumped onto the metal ladder before my nerves got the best of me. I flew up the rungs, my Cetie-strengthened arms and legs giving me an off-planet boost.

  It wasn’t enough. A pulse round slammed into my chest. It sparked and crackled, raising goosebumps over every square centimeter of my body. Luckily the dispersive vest did its job. My grip never loosened, and other than the split-second shock of impact, it barely slowed me.

  I grunted as I pulled myself onto the walkway. I immediately pressed myself against the railing, poked my gun through a gap, and fired a few score combo rounds toward the factory floor. Droid faces poked haphazardly through the machinery. I might’ve even struck a few, but I didn’t put too much stock in accuracy. I had enough ammunition strapped to me for an hour’s worth of target practice, and I didn’t care how many of the attackers I brought down. If Kriggler was right, no amount would be enough.

  The ladder rungs clanged, and Carl hopped over the edge onto the walkway next to me. He punched his finger into a touchpad at the edge of the railing, and a large shipping container suspended by a crane in mid-air lurched forward, tracking the edge of the walkway.

  “They’re coming in hot,” said Carl. “You take point. I’ll bring up the rear. Use the container for cover while we can.”

  I banished fear from my mind. Action gave us a chance at success. Hesitation didn’t. I rushed forward, firing more shots off the side of the walkway where the shipping container didn’t shield us. Pulse bolts shot up at me like a bizarro world rainfall, hissing and buzzing as they dissipated against the mesh walkway or impacted the factory’s ceiling.

  My rifle cracked. My feet pounded. The walkway crackled. Carl shouted.

  “Rich! Look out!”

  I lifted my head to find another crane-suspended shipping container swinging in from the side, meters from the walkway.

  I swore. The container collided with the walkway. Metal screeched and tore, twisted chunks of it raining down. I jumped, but not before the side of the container slammed into my body armor.

  I wheezed as the air left my lungs. My rifle spun from my hands, flying out into the factory. I desperately grasped for purchase as the impact sent me soaring. By some miracle, I wrapped a few fingers around the edge of one of the cables suspending the container.

  I gripped it tight, but the container swung wildly from its collision with the walkway. Its momentum carried through me, wrenching on my arm. My shoulder screamed. My chest burned. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Rich!”

  I felt a shudder. My fingers loosened. I couldn’t hold on. My grip slipped.

  Carl appeared over the edge of the container, grabbing my arm as my fingers gave out. He pulled, and I flew over the edge onto the top of the metal box. Carl lay on top, his legs wrapped around one of the support cables.

  I tried to thank him. It came out as a wheezy groan.

  “Watch out,” said Carl. “We’re coming back around.”

  The container had completed its arc and begun to swing back toward the far side of the walkway. The part we’d jogged along had collapsed, but the rest still stood, providing access to the control room. If we could jump to the walkway on the return swing, we’d have a clear path. The question was, did Kriggler send the container our way, or had it been the attack droids?

  Tough to say, said Paige. On the one hand, the conta
iner could’ve killed you. On the other, it’s made it virtually impossible for the droids to follow you along the walkway.

  Paige, I said. You’re alive. I’d almost forgotten about you.

  I tend to stay quiet when my host body is in mortal peril.

  Carl grabbed me. “Jump!”

  We swung over the walkway, barely missing a second collision. Carl pushed me over the edge of the container. We slammed into the mesh with enough force to smash the breath from my lungs, but I still hadn’t filled them with air from the last collision. As more shots plinked and sparked around us, Carl helped me to my feet and dragged me forward.

  “Come on, Rich!”

  Regular me would’ve complained, but air starved, psychologically and electrically shocked, didn’t-have-a-death wish me could only nod and run and hope not to be turned into a public service announcement about the dangers of high voltages.

  The door to the control center stood firm before us. We raced forward and smashed through it, collapsing to the floor of a space filled with windows, displays, digital and manual controls, and an array of servenets. Kriggler crouched inside the room’s other door, firing rounds from his rifle into the opposing stairwell.

  “You made it,” he said. “Quick, take over here at the stairs. Hold them off.”

  Carl nodded and took his place as Kriggler crossed to the servenets and produced his skimmer. I peeled myself off the floor, checked to make sure I hadn’t lost any limbs, and took position across from Carl. I’d lost my rifle, but a pair of pistols still hung from my belt.

  I managed to draw one as the first wave of droids appeared in the stairwell. I fired a few rounds, but Carl’s superior aim took care of most of them first.

  “Tell me something good, Kriggler,” I said.

  “I’m in,” he said. “Just looking for the factory master controls. Wait…here they are. Give me a sec…”

  Usually such a statement was hyperbole, but a bare second later, the clanks and whirrs of the factory began to slow, fading to the building’s original pervasive hum except overlaid with the sounds of angry droids and intermittent gunfire.

  Another few droids mounted the stairs. Carl and I downed them with precision shots.

  “Kriggler, what else have you got?” I said. “Is this the place or isn’t it?”

  “It’s the place,” he said. “The bank accounts from Cetie are being routed through these servenets. But I’ve got bad news. I don’t think Sharp’s here. I found another relay transmitter, a short distance one with a smaller reception radius. It’s a weaker signal than I’m used to, intentionally weak I’d guess, and it’s encrypted, but I might be able to track it to its origin. At least close, anyway—assuming I can decrypt it.”

  The droids had stopped running up the stairwell, so I glanced at the displays over the windows. Several featured security vids from the premises, including one of the loading docks. A swarm of droids gathered there.

  “You might not have to do any of that,” I said.

  Kriggler looked up from his skimmer. “How’s that?”

  I nodded toward the display. The droids had split into six groups and were heading toward the vans. “Looks like our attackers are making a break for it. Call it a hunch, but I’d guess they’re retreating to a safe house.”

  “Well then, what are we waiting for?” said Kriggler, stuffing the skimmer back into his vest pocket. “I’ve got what I need. Let’s move before they get away.”

  Kriggler took off down the stairs, and I didn’t hesitate, heading right after him. Adrenaline surged through my veins, infusing me with unbridled power and confidence, and my guns sang out, ready to continue the fight.

  25

  I miscalculated. I assumed there would be enough vans to go around, but the last of them pulled away as we raced through the loading bay doors and into the cool night rain.

  “Paige, quick,” I said. “Call the car from the other side.”

  “No time,” said Kriggler. “We’ll take one of the heavy transports.”

  Dirk darted toward one of the big rigs, vehicles designed for hauling goods, not people. Still, they could move, and though they lacked creature comforts, they’d contain an access panel and display in the front storage compartment for user access.

  Dirk threw open the nearest rig’s side door and climbed in. Carl and I jumped in after him. In no time flat, Kriggler had rushed to the front panel, whipped out his skimmer, and started the motor. A pair of rotors in the chassis whirred to life, and we lurched into motion.

  The acceleration almost toppled me. It clanged shut the truck’s side door, sending us into near darkness, held back only by the shine of Dirk’s skimmer.

  “Kriggler?” I said. “Lights?”

  “On it.”

  LED strips lit up along the edges of the transport’s interior, bringing to life the bland metal walls and streamlined ceiling. Another push of acceleration sent me scrambling for purchase.

  “I’m going to need some sort of feedback on directional changes,” I said. “This whole no windows, no displays rig interior isn’t exactly helping my balance.”

  “Just a sec,” said Kriggler. “Giving you Brain access to the transport’s feeds.”

  Got it, said Paige. Let me see what I can do. How about I apply a fifty percent translucency filter to the images cobbled together from the transport’s external cameras and superimpose it over your visual feed? That should help.

  Paige performed her magic, and suddenly, everything around me appeared to be made of a clear plastic, not just the cabin but the truck’s wheels, engines, battery packs, and sensors, too. The road blurred under my feet, dangerously close. The hairs on my arms rose in trepidation, but at least I could see the turns coming.

  I steadied myself against a wall as we pulled onto a main thoroughfare and surged forward. Rain smeared against the cabin exterior as we accelerated, and the flashy roadside strip joint and pawn shop holosigns turned into colorful streaks. Because of the late hour, we had the road to ourselves—except for the pair of delivery vans I spotted out in front, perhaps thirty to forty-five seconds ahead of us.

  “How’s it looking, Kriggler?” I asked.

  He looked up from his skimmer. “How’s what looking?”

  “The signal,” I said. “I’m assuming we’re following those vans, so how’s the signal faring? Was I right?”

  “Too early to tell,” he said. “We look to be headed the right way, but it all depends where those vans go. I’m still trying to decrypt the data I skimmed from the factory servenet, so I’ll keep an eye on the signal strength and keep you posted.”

  “Good. I’ve had enough of being yanked around. It’s time to find this Sharp guy and end this once and for all.”

  Our truck continued to accelerate, closing on the vans. Streetlights blurred as we streaked past. Rain pattered against empty sidewalks, having driven even the purveyors of drugs and sex inside. I counted the seconds by which we trailed the vans. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten.

  “How close do we want to get?” asked Carl.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “As close as possible. We can’t lose them.”

  “We also don’t want them to know we’re tailing them,” said Carl.

  “We let that cat out of the bag around the time you shot the first droid,” I said. “There’s no way they don’t know what we’re up to.”

  “Then perhaps we should ask ourselves where we’re going,” said Carl. “If they know, they won’t be taking us to Sharp’s hideout.”

  “Kriggler?” I said.

  “Still tracking toward the source,” he said.

  Carl frowned, and while Kriggler’s assertion justified my position, I couldn’t help but wonder if Carl had a point. By my count, six vans had departed the factory ahead of us. So where were the other four?

  Rich?

  Yes, Paige?

  I might have an answer for that.

  I turned. Two of the
vans had materialized behind us. Despite our own impressive speed, they seemed to be closing on us.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Carl? Maybe we should prepare for—”

  Wheels screeched as a van exploded from a side street and rammed our truck in the side. Metal bent and groaned. I flew through the cabin, impacting the truck’s far side and once again having the air knocked from my lungs. The truck wheels swerved underneath me as the back of the rig fishtailed. It swung perilously sideways, the wheels spinning over the rain-slicked street. The cab began to tip, and I held what little breath I had left.

  Two wheels lifted and hung in the air before the truck fell back down, skidding and screeching and wobbling as it reoriented itself.

  I groaned and tried to stand. “Kriggler! Get this thing under control, will you?”

  “You think I’m driving?” he said, half sprawled on the floor. “I’m just telling it where to go.”

  “Well, keep her steady! Do something!”

  I turned to find one of the vans behind us had closed to within a few meters. It shifted lanes, heading left to our undamaged side, accelerated, and pulled up alongside us. The side door opened and rolled back on sliders, revealing a jumbled mass of droids within. Most of them still clutched pulse pistols, but one in front held something much larger—a cross between a fire hose and a grenade launcher.

  My brow furrowed. “What the…?”

  The droid pulled back on the weapon’s handle, and a cloud of droplets shot against the side of the truck, obscuring my vision. A moment later, it blazed to life, and I felt a searing heat radiate towards me.

  Carl grabbed me and threw me toward the front of the cabin. “It’s a thermite sprayer! Get back!”

  The wall started to dissolve, filling the air with caustic smoke and a thundering hiss. Somewhere over the ruckus I heard Kriggler shout out. “I’ve got it! I cracked the encryption! We’re headed the wrong way.”