—————
The infrared readout on the two anomalies was negative as the 1123 made its next pass, indicating no contact of interest next to the gatherers. But suddenly the infrared indicated two more anomalies, not moving, next to the manual field station and the power transfer bus. Its computer analyzed the previous targets located visually and compared them to the positions of the new infrared anomalies and each were assigned a pending track number. Then the onboard computer sifted through its database for possible anomalous events which could’ve caused the readings. The result was unexpected even for a computer. While it sifted through the data in search of an explanation of the anomalies, the computer had overlain the warbot’s patrol route on top of the positions of the sets of contacts. Points and times were correlated that coincided with the patrol route and Ming and Farr were upgraded to probable threats.
A modified route was drawn and the warbot was put into heightened alert status. Random turn points were inserted in the patrol pattern and the 1123 continued its never ending patrol. But it was now at an elevated alert posture.
—————
Ming made his final dash for the SCC with a feeling of relief. But, twenty meters from the objective, the Kashi made an abrupt move in his direction and Ming found himself staring at a fully alert 1123 with raised weapon. The robot then attempted to sprint to the spot Ming occupied but its’ sensor gaits were failing and its movements, rather than being a sprint, looked more like a contestant struggling along in a three legged race. Ming remained motionless hoping to appear as a nonthreat. But he couldn’t have known that Anderson had long ago reformatted the bot’s attack programming to engage any human being, other than himself, who entered the dome, so the warbot never wavered in its course.
Farr, having made his last station before the abrupt deviation of the 1123 from its programmed route, watched in horror as the machine approached Ming. He saw the deadly contraption stop ten meters from Ming and then move sideways. But it hadn’t fired yet and Farr was hopeful that it wouldn’t.
Then he realized that the bot was simply adjusting its position so that none of the sensitive systems would be in its’ line of fire. The rounds of the 1123 would travel the length of the dome and the warbot just wanted to ensure that the rounds that went through Ming slammed into the rocky outer wall and did not cause collateral damage.
Farr didn’t panic at the situation but inwardly calmed himself until he was without emotion. When he was ready he set off at a fast clip, not toward the SCC, but in the direction of the 1123. His action stimulated the bot’s defensive system in the exact manner that Farr had hoped. He’d been upgraded to the highest threat level based on speed and direction of movement. He was attacking from the right side of the combatant, the side with the ineffective gun turret. Briefly the gun attempted to elevate and fire but it did no more than twitch. The bot then attempted to spin to engage with the other turret but its’ servomotors jerked and twitched as it reoriented. The unit hadn’t engaged in combat for many years and its program degradation had been considerable. As it was, Farr barely ducked under the upper appendage as the bot tried to initiate manual defense.
Farr had analyzed the combat pattern of 1123’s at the academy and they’d always moved in a standard four-four-three-four-three pattern, utilizing the available appendages for gouges and punches. If he could maintain control over his movements and dodge enough blows so that the gun turret couldn’t come into play, then Ming might have enough time to reach the SCC. If he couldn’t it wouldn’t matter anyhow.
The actual blows came at Farr much faster than he’d expected, especially considering the 1123’s condition. He managed to evade the first four moves and spun expecting the next four in the pattern when the bot abruptly spun on its heels away from him, raised its’ gun turret and fired point blank into Ming’s chest just as he was preparing to leap for the 1123’s back.
Farr cried out in agony and despair and screamed a mournful “No!” as he saw the rotating gun turret. His heart nearly exploded in his chest when he realized the gun turret was slamming home again and again on empty chambers. The warbot, if it was possible, seemed confused that the target still stood. Obviously sections of the onboard computer had degraded significantly.
Farr looked up and saw Ming standing five meters from the warbot, his eyes twin saucers of surprise, his hands in front of him.
“The building!” Farr shouted and he started in that direction as fast as he could. The 1123 lifted its’ turret once again toward Ming and again the empty chambers clicked off. Ming fled, leaping like a rabbit over long distances, reaching the side of the building next to Farr, breathing erratically.
The 1123, finally realizing its’ armaments were useless, sprung after them in a lopsided canter, its’ left leg now twitching as it moved.
“Now I remember,” Farr shouted. “These walls are three feet thick and there’s no way the bot can hurt anything vital if it doesn’t use its’ guns. I think it intends to beat us to a pulp.”
“Do you know how to fight one of these things?” Ming asked as the machine closed on them.
“Theoretically yes,” Farr answered quickly with a withering look. “But it’s twitching so badly it may just kill me by accident, which pretty much gives it the result it’s looking for anyhow. Look, just behind the left servomotor.” Farr said pointing. “The plate over the junction is loose and you can see exposed wires dangling. If I can keep it busy, can you attack those wires? If you can damage it enough maybe it won’t be able to maneuver enough to be a threat.” Ming glanced quickly and nodded as the 1123 loomed over them, its three functioning appendages raised to strike. Farr darted away from the building, kicking out at the left leg of the damaged bot thinking that action should make him threat priority one and take the heat off of Ming. It did and Farr now had all of the attention of one very dedicated warbot. Farr timed the pattern as best as he could, ducking, leaping and rolling just out of reach of the expected blows, kicking and punching at the weakened areas of the machine.
As the warbot turned away and attacked Farr, Ming lunged out, his hands prying at the loose plate, gripping the wires and yanking for all he was worth. They stubbornly refused to yield and Ming found himself rolling out of the way of the bot’s legs as it tried to dispatch Farr, ignoring him completely. Finally as Farr’s efforts became more desperate Ming latched onto the bot’s leg and attacked the wires viciously and was rewarded when two come loose, giving him a nice electrical burn to go along with his other bumps and bruises.
Now the warbot did consider Ming a threat. Ming was attached to the back of its leg and none of the appendages could reach him as he bloodied his fingers in his efforts to loosen more wires. The warbot swayed around the area and Ming clung tightly to the leg as the metal juggernaut moved back and forth, trying to dislodge him and to counter Farr’s ever increasing attacks on its malfunctioning lower left appendage.
More wires came loose as Ming continued to pry at the opening. Farr struck again and again at the damaged leg, so that the bot was forced to see him as the primary threat and ignore Ming. But the bot’s onboard computer was starting to fail in its control over the servomotors and this proved to be Farr’s undoing. He had the pattern of the attack timed and predicted, but the fluctuation in the power source of the bot caused it to “hiccup” in its movements. Farr had planted himself where the blow from the lower left appendage wasn’t supposed to be, at least at that time. The slight delay in movement destroyed Farr’s well timed efforts and the lower appendage connected soundly with his ribs tossing him five meters in the air and dropping him in a crumpled heap at the base of the SCC.
The 1123 moved in for the kill, dragging Ming along, still stubbornly clinging to its leg, across the distance to where Farr lay dazed. Farr looked up as it arrived and reached down for the last bit of energy he had, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough, but not ready to lay down and die yet. The bot looked down fully at him and hesitated, the briefest fraction of a
second, possibly saving Farr’s life.
—————
In his last days of life Stephen had made many preparations, hoping against hope, that it would be enough to save at least some of the colonists of this pitiful world. But as the cancer induced dreams came more and more often, he found himself altering the programming of the warbots. But he could never remember later just what subroutine he’d added to their matrix.
A brief emergency subroutine began running in the warbot’s matrix when the full visual of Farr’s face was mapped, putting a halt to the bot’s survival program for a fraction of a second.
“Stranger… blue eyes… blue eyes… cease combat actions…” But the file was too corrupted and the survival mode overrode the fragmented programming and the warbot continued on with its primary mission of destroying Farr and Ming.
—————
The 1123 loomed over Farr, its’ upper right appendage poised to strike and as the blow descended the unit suddenly lurched forward. The appendage missed Farr by the slimmest of margins, embedding itself four inches into the building and knocking chunks of the gray material off, as Farr dove away to safety.
Farr looked back and Ming was furiously yanking at wires, his hands bloody and burned. The 1123 was tilted against the building, its legs useless but its’ appendages were still trying to right the machine so it could attack. Farr scrambled desperately over to join Ming. Together they plucked and pulled every wire they could find and then attacked the back access panel. They tore it off eventually, and, burned their hands again and again as they attacked the exposed wiring there.
Life slowly faded from the Death Bringer, its appendages no longer moving, except for occasional twitches, and the two men fell back exhausted on the ground. Ming sat up and looked at the barely twitching pile of metal and yelled. “You’re terminated mother - whoa!” Ming yelped in a high pitched voice, scrambling back as the bot twitched one final time and almost righted itself before collapsing.
“I’m too tired to even ask what the hell that meant,” Farr said breathlessly, closing his eyes.
“Well that was one well-executed combat mission,” Ming breathed sarcastically.
“I don’t know,” Farr said briefly opening his eyes. “It seemed like every other combat mission I’ve ever been on - fouled up beyond all recognition.”
CHAPTER 16
How long they lay there neither man could later say. They may’ve fallen asleep for all Farr knew, but finally the mission drew him back to conscious awareness.
“Are you okay?” he asked Ming.
“Compared to what?” Ming mumbled incredulously.
“I suppose compared to being dead.”
“If that’s the benchmark, then yeah, I’m okay. My hands are burned, my fingers are a bloody pulp and my head hurts. I’m not sure, but I think I’ve got a concussion. I’m covered in filth and I think I may’ve actually soiled myself when the warbot tried to shoot me. But we already stink to high heaven so no one will notice. Otherwise I’m aces, how about you?” Ming finished in a light, airy voice that belied his condition.
“Ditto, but throw in a couple of broken ribs. Do you have Quincy’s master key?”
Ming didn’t say anything, he just lay there with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. After a few moments he held up the small computer pad and Farr took it and struggled to his feet.
“Coming?” he asked.
“I’ve already paid the admission, I might as well.” Ming pulled himself up slowly with Farr’s aid and the two of them approached the entrance. He connected the pad into the outside terminal and it suddenly flashed through a series of numbers and there was an audible click.
“I would’ve bet anything that he would’ve changed it,” Farr said shaking his head.
“With those monsters walking around and in their prime?” Ming replied, indicating the unit lying near them, still twitching and convulsing. “Why bother?”
They entered the SCC, the first men in almost a century to do so. According to schematics, Farr knew the lower level to be a duty bunkroom, while the upper area controlled the dome functions. A ladder on the other side of the door went straight up and they took this to the control room.
The first thing they saw as they entered was a desiccated corpse seated in front of the control console. All of the systems were dark and Farr quickly checked the power panel in the far corner.
“Looks like he shut it down before he died,” he said. “There might be enough power left in the back up to get it started.” Farr initiated the power up sequence and was rewarded by the low hum of the equipment coming online.
“Give me a hand will you?” Ming said and went to the corpse. Farr came over and they gently moved the husk that used to be Stephen Anderson away from the controls.
“This was a lonely way to die,” Ming commented.
“Yes, it was. I wonder how long he waited and hoped that people from Earth would come for them.”
“If I can get this system online, maybe I’ll be able to tell you,” Ming said as he manipulated the dome’s computer system. The system sputtered and flickered, then stabilized and he accessed the domes logs and he and Farr spent the next hour learning the story of Lunar Base Five.
Alekos Antonopoulos had arrived three days before the Calamity struck the Earth with an entourage that included security teams and weapons. He had immediately taken charge of the facilities and pressed all of the scientists into his service. The workers were forced to continue their labors for the ever diminishing amounts of food allocated to them under his orders. Many of the Workers had been pressed into his personal retinue to serve his day to day needs.
The whole system had gone awry when the ceiling in Six was struck by small meteorites and the atmosphere was breached. According to Anderson’s logs this had occurred about six months after Antonopoulos’ arrival. Fortunately, depending on how one viewed the aftermath, the Dome had been sealed for certain maintenance checks. The only people who were there were the necessary maintenance workers. Over seventy of the Workers had managed to evacuate the dome before the cracks had enlarged and the Foreman had made the tough call to seal off the dome.
It was easy for Farr and Ming to sympathize with the Foreman who’d sealed the dome in Six. It was a recurring nightmare for those who lived and worked off Earth and each man was thankful they’d never had to make such a decision. The Foreman had made the impossible decision, stranding the four whose bodies they’d discovered in order to save the group. Both men knew such a decision came at a price and according to the logs the Foreman paid that price. Anderson’s logs indicated that the man had taken his own life a week later.
Antonopoulos’ response to this sudden loss of half of the colony’s food source and air production capacity only confirmed what the Foreman had said. Antonopoulos was indeed mad. Stephen Anderson, chief scientist of Lunar Base Five and Six illustrated the choice he’d faced in his own recorded words.
Today Antonopoulos had his security team march away two hundred of the workers into an isolated section of the mine, ostensibly to gather necessary minerals to keep the dome functioning, he’d said.
I was working with my fellows on the project the CEO had given us; namely various survivor scenarios given fixed numbers of people and the resources we had on hand. Most of them, I must admit, were very bleak. None of the scenarios could forecast the colony surviving more than two decades with the available resources. But we deluded ourselves with assurances that the company on Earth would come for us long before that time. We’d all dutifully reported our findings to the CEO along with our meaningless recommendations.
I saw the security team return without the workers several hours later and I, now being curious, slipped away from my duties to retrace their route. A half of an hour later I entered the section of the mine where the workers were supposedly busily mining. I heard nothing in the way of noise and the lights which normally glowed along the corridors were dark. Using a penlight I stumbled along t
he corridor for another kilometer before I reached the end. I tripped and my light fell from my hand and disappeared and I fell hard but I landed on something that gave way beneath me and I was unhurt with the exception of my dignity.
My hands recoiled however as I searched the ground for the lost penlight. I was horrified at what I thought I felt and I tried to convince myself it was the dark of the tunnels preying on my imagination.
I saw the dim glow of the light and retrieved it from where it had fallen, between two corpses. As I played the feeble light around the cavernous dark of the mine I beheld a scene from the horrible days of twentieth century Earth. The two hundred workers would never return. Their bodies lay where they’d fallen, torn and bloody from the bullets of Antonopoulos’ security team.
I’m ashamed to say I retreated back to the dome and remained silent about what I’d seen. I feared for my life and that kept me from doing what was right from the beginning. It was obvious to me then that Antonopoulos had read our reports and had come to his own solution. And because I saw the solution he’d come to, I realized why he’d come to it, and I knew that no one from Earth would be coming for us for a very long time, if ever.
I fretted the entire day, accomplishing nothing but the castigation of my own conscience at the death of the workers. And then, unbidden, a thought had occurred to me. Where it came from I don’t know because I’m no geneticist. I don’t even care for the discipline. But seeking out Dr. Hoshi Yabu, a very eminent geneticist on Strategic Solutions’ payroll, I broached the subject with him.
Yabu became intrigued with the challenge and was working away on the criteria I’d given him within a few minutes. For three days he and I went over the procedures and ran the survival numbers again and again. We were convinced that we could extend the colonies’ life by decades if we resorted to genetic engineering of the populace. These procedures had been outlawed on Earth, but what did we care of that now?
Children of the Dark World Page 21