by M. R. Forbes
"Standard sweep pattern, sir," Perseus said. "They'll have trouble spotting us, at least until they get some eyes on the ground."
"We can't stay under cover forever," Tio said. "What then?"
"Then we fight," Mitchell said, glancing over at the Knife before returning his attention to the rebels. "Any more volunteers?"
47
They were on the move twenty minutes later. It was slow-going, with the mechs having to stay right on top of the passenger-laden cars to keep them beneath the umbrella protection of their equipment. They needed it too, as the drones continued to pass overhead, relentless in their automated pursuit. It would only take one slip, one bad step, one small break in the canopy to give away their position and invite an attack.
It left Mitchell wondering if the Tetron even thought they were out here, or if it was simply using the drones because they were available to be used. There was no harm in the sweeps, even if it didn't believe it would find anything. If they really were the last front of resistance within a thousand kilometers of York, there was nothing to lose in sending every available asset into the Preserve to find them.
The doubts ate at him. They edged into his thoughts with every careful step his Zombie made, and pushed harder each time one of the cars had to slow, the rough terrain and the weight of carrying so many threatening to slam it into the ground and leave a quarter of their force stranded. There was no way to cover three hundred kilometers on foot in the time they had before Goliath would return.
The mission had always been extremely high risk to damn near impossible. Finding a single person on an entire planet? Even if they had centered the search on the area around York, it was still a large area to cover.
Somehow, he had found Christine. Or at least he had found where she had been not long before he arrived.
He had found the place where she had been shot.
Was she still alive?
He was surprised to find himself questioning her value. On board the Goliath, everything had seemed so logical and organized. Their need to recover Origin's data above all else had seemed so clear. The Tetron had information, so much information, stored in her configuration. Its entire base of knowledge. Everything it knew about its kind, which Mitchell imagined was quite a lot. The intelligence had named its counterparts "children." It had escaped from them and moved through the recursion of time. It had created Christine in Katherine Asher's image to preserve all that it knew, for the very purpose of hiding that information until Mitchell could collect it.
How much was that information really worth? The Tetron weren't the only ones who could observe and learn. He had seen what the enemy was capable of. He had witnessed their approach to warfare. The psychological attacks as much as the physical. The calculated deception, the disregard for the lives of its slave army, or possibly even mortal life in general. Its ability to manufacture new machines. Did it matter as much why they had come over the fact that they were here?
He felt a draw to Christine. An undeniable attraction that was much more than physical. They had a history. An infinite history that he still didn't quite understand. He hoped she was alive. He hoped he would find her. He wanted to see her again. He wasn't going to sacrifice these people to do it.
"Know your enemy," Origin had said. It thought they needed her to understand the Tetron, and to win the war. That they couldn't win without her. He had accepted that before. Almost blindly. It was stupid to pin the hope of humankind on a single thing. Even if he died here on Liberty, trying to set it free, he expected that Millie would take the Goliath and figure something out. That she would continue where he left off, not capitulate to his failure and self-destruct.
He knew she would have the same fighting spirit that the people below his mech did. They were tired, they were in pain, they had every reason to quit.
They didn't.
Then there was Tio. As each minute passed, and Mitchell's mind continued to churn, he thought more and more about why he was on Liberty, and why he had returned to the planet in futures past. While Christine had been the original goal, he couldn't help but wonder if the Knife was the true prize. Whether his brother was the Creator or not, the man was still a self-proclaimed expert in artificial intelligence who had dedicated his life to lobbying against its use, going so far as to become rich and powerful in his own, illicit right. Tio had more than money. He had his own mercenary army.
An army they would desperately need.
If they managed to get off the planet.
48
Two hours passed.
The sun pierced the horizon and started its climb, sending shafts of light down through the foliage in bright beams that put a spotlight on anything they touched.
Mitchell and his rebel army continued their journey, covering nearly two-thirds of the distance from Angeles to the Lincoln Pass in that time.
The drone sweeps had continued unabated, at times nothing more than a faint whistle in the distance and at other times a heavier whine that crossed directly overhead. The rebels grew accustomed to it, in time losing their fear of being discovered and picking up the overall pace of their march.
The expected ground patrols never materialized.
After what they had already experienced, Mitchell knew that it wasn't because of good fortune.
The Tetron was planning something. But what?
He was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on his p-rat.
"What is it, Firedog?"
"Hey, Colonel. Tio asked me to knock you. He says you need to stop. Like, right now."
Stop? "Did he say why?"
"Says he has an idea. Says he feels kind of dumb he didn't think of it sooner." There was a pause. "Well, he didn't say that part. I did."
Mitchell opened the channel to the rest of his team.
"Perseus, Zed, stay alert. Firedog, call the stop."
"Yes, sir," they replied.
The entire caravan came to a shuddering halt. Mitchell eyed the empty sensor grid one last time before lowering his mech, disconnecting from the CAP-NN, and opening the cockpit. He climbed out, taking a deep breath of air. The smell of smoke and dirt was still heavy in it, following them from the ruins of Angeles.
Tio was waiting for him at the base of the mech with Cormac at his side.
"Colonel. I've been thinking about our plan to get to York. The Lincoln Pass. You know the Tetron will expect us to come that way."
"Yeah. I was planning for a pretty nasty fight there."
Tio smiled. "I have another idea. I'm sorry I didn't consider it sooner, but the logistics have changed quite drastically in the last sixteen hours."
"What do you mean?"
"For one, the enemy overheard all of our plans. It knows what we were going to do, and what our assets were at the time. Judging by the lack of ground patrols, my guess is that it has calculated the probability of our success in making it over the Pass and on to York to be statistically insignificant."
"We already knew it was a long shot. The real fighting happens out here. Not inside a machine."
"Yes, Colonel. I understand the risk is ours, we need to get to York, and that we have no better options. Except, what if we do have a better option?"
Mitchell was intrigued. They weren't headed for the Lincoln Pass because they wanted to die. "Go on."
"My second point, and perhaps the Private is right that it was shortsighted of me not to consider it earlier."
"I said dumb," Cormac said.
Tio ignored him. "During our meetings with General Cornelius, we were approaching the problem using a headcount in the hundreds, along with vehicle mounted heavy weapons, and, of course, the addition of your force. Small as it may be, three mechs are incredibly valuable in the field. More so than all of our ground troops combined."
"I'm with you on your assessment, but I don't see where you're going with it."
"We were thinking too linearly. Almost like our enemy would. This is the logical approach, based on the assets that
we have. What we should be learning is that we can't fight this enemy by thinking that way. Artificial intelligence is superior to human intellect in terms of pure processing and problem-solving ability. We do have one advantage."
"Which is?"
Tio's smile grew. "We operate at the edge of chaos, Colonel. We are able to break the order of things. To act in a way that is completely illogical, and that offers no obvious benefit. Some would say to self-harm, but you could also look at it as a means to think in a different, unique way."
Mitchell nodded. Origin had given him command of the Goliath for that very reason. To think like a human. He had used the ship as a spear, an aggressive move that could have resulted in his war ending before it ever got started.
Could have, but didn't.
"What do you suggest?"
"You said the enemy is making use of a Sonosome factory to the south?"
"Yes. It's manufacturing machines there. Or at least it was."
"The type of equipment produced at that factory tends to be very heavy, does it not? So heavy that it requires special transport?"
Mitchell nodded again, starting to understand what the warlord was hinting at. The farming machines and mechs the factory produced would be delivered to the rest of the planet or the spaceport via heavy transports with large repulsor sleds. If they could claim one, they could use it to attempt to get up and over the mountains. It wasn't a viable plan for a large force. It was for a much smaller one.
"There's no guarantee the Tetron hasn't broken all of the heavy transports down for parts. It didn't use one to carry its forces to Angeles."
"Our spotters would have seen it coming," Tio said. "No, we don't know that any remain operational. Even so, I would propose that it will be much easier to reach the factory than it will be to get over the Lincoln Pass. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Shit. I do," Cormac said. "Colonel, we should go south. It's a lot closer, too. We can be there inside a day."
Mitchell stared at the two men, considering. If they went south and there was nothing they could salvage, they would lose an entire day, giving the Tetron more time to either catch up to them or reinforce its position. At the same time, he had always known getting over the Pass was going to be near to impossible. If he could avoid that battle and get more of their forces into York?
They were both a massive risk, but Tio was right. To outmaneuver the Tetron, they needed to react in ways it might not predict.
"Tell the others. We're going south."
49
They headed back south, taking a longer route to go wide around the area where the Riggers had defended against the first wave of machines from the factory. There was nothing for them there except twisted metal and the corpses of their fallen, left exposed to the dangerous skies by the damage done to the surrounding trees.
They moved as quickly as they could. It wasn't quickly enough for Mitchell's taste, but there was nothing they could do. The drones continued to sweep the Preserve, and their small army was more civilian than military. Even with the cars, they had to slow for breaks at regular intervals.
The only upside, if he could call it that, was that the Tetron still hadn't sent any ground units out to find them. There had been no sign of mechs, no sign of armored infantry, nothing. His grid was quiet.
"Colonel, we're here," Zed said.
"Call the stop. Firedog, get the cars bunched around the Knight."
"Yes, sir."
He saw Cormac hop out of the lead car, yelling in at the driver and then running back across the line. Perseus was in the middle of the caravan, and the cars all began to maneuver to stay close.
It was late afternoon. The sun had traced the sky and was on its way across to the other side of the planet. The density of the forest had waned somewhat, leaving breaks in the foliage that they were cautious to navigate, and that had stolen time from their journey. Mitchell moved his mech around the rebel vehicles until he was standing next to Zed.
Two hundred meters ahead of them was a break in the forest. Beyond it was the Nile river. It was nowhere near as impressive as its namesake, but it was dangerous in its own right.
If they were going to get to the Sonosome factory, they had to cross it, and crossing it meant being exposed across the half-kilometer width.
"You've been capturing the patrol data?" Mitchell asked.
"Yes, sir," Zed replied.
"How does it look?"
"This isn't my specialty."
"I know. I wish we could pass the data on to Tio, but without an implant..."
Zed passed the data to him. They had been marking the drone patrols whenever they had heard them pass over, trying to trace the pattern as closely as they could. Mitchell brought it up on his p-rat, superimposed over the mapping of the planet the CAP-NN was making while they walked it.
"It doesn't look like they're ever more than ten minutes out," he said.
"More like eight. It knew we had to go in one of two directions from Angeles, and we can only travel so fast."
"It knew too damn much. The question is, can we get the others across in eight minutes?"
"And keep them grouped together? I doubt it. The river's current is going to mess with the repulsors some, and the added weight is going to multiply the effect. Those vehicles weren't designed to carry so much."
"Some of them can swim across. The water will hide them."
"Colonel, these people are exhausted, and they aren't military. I don't think they're going to be making a half-kilometer swim in cold water."
"You're right. Let's call a break. Three hours to rest while we wait for nightfall. At least we can try to limit the contact."
"Yes, sir. I could stand to get a breath of fresh air and get off my ass for a few minutes."
"Firedog, tell the ground crew we're breaking. Three hours. Tell them to grab a bite and do their best to get some sleep. Perseus, you're on the ground. I'll take watch."
"I'll handle watch, Colonel," Perseus said.
"No. You've been in the saddle since last night."
"I'm juiced and good to go, sir. You were stabbed."
Mitchell had almost forgotten in his eagerness to get them to the factory. Now that he was reminded, he felt the twinge in his gut and the throbbing in his head. "Perseus, you've got watch."
"Yes, sir."
He moved the Zombie closer to the group and then lowered it, opening the cockpit. His legs shook beneath him as he climbed down. He'd barely slept since Goliath had dropped them off, and even with the biochem it was taking its toll.
The rebels shifted around him, unloading themselves from the car, grabbing rations and passing them along. When they looked at him, their eyes were fierce and proud, and they bowed slightly to show their respect. He remembered the way General Cornelius had engaged them in the mess back in Angeles, and he did his best to copy it.
"ReadyMeal, sir?"
The girl, the youngest of their army, was holding a box out to him. He smiled when he took it. "Thank you-"
"Kathy," she said, filling in her name.
Mitchell held the ReadyMeal and stared down at her. She was filthy like the others, but there was a pretty face and big brown eyes beneath the dirt and grime. Kathy? Her name made him shiver on the inside. Katherine. He couldn't help but react to the thought of her. Their lives were entwined in a way he couldn't understand.
"Are you okay, sir?" she asked, beginning to grow uncomfortable with his stare.
He pulled himself from the vague memory. "Yeah. You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone I cared about. You're brave to be here."
"They didn't want me to come. They said I was too young, but what the frig is too young when you live on Liberty? First the Federation, and now this? Let the other girls hide. My father's a Navy captain. He always told me the strong need to take care of the weak. He didn't raise a weak daughter." She smiled in defiance, but it turned to sadness in a hurry. "He's out there, somewhere. He was assigned to Alpha quadrant. I don't kno
w if they reached him yet. If he's a slave. I know if he isn't he's fighting."
He didn't tell her that there was no fighting the Tetron, not if you had an implant. "I know he is, too."
The defiance returned. "We're going to get that thing off of Liberty, aren't we, sir?"
"We are."
"I know what they said about you is a lie. About not taking the Shot."
He felt the pain from his wound more acutely at the statement. He wanted to tell her it wasn't. He wanted to explain. He couldn't. She was looking for hope, for leadership, for someone larger than life to believe in. That had been Ella. He was a poor substitute, but he would have to do.
"Thanks for believing in me," he said.
The words tasted as dirty as he felt.
50
Mitchell ate the ReadyMeal, and then spent the next hour walking the makeshift camp, checking in on every one of the people in their group. He spent a few minutes talking to the ones who were receptive, and gave a few brief words of encouragement to those who weren't. After that, he went up into the cockpit of the Zombie to retrieve a combat knife. Then he climbed on top of the foot of his mech.
He stared down at Ilanka's name.
The paint hadn't dried completely before the drop and had left it spread out as though it were bleeding. He knelt and put his hand to it before taking the knife and scraping it along the mech's armored surface. It left a light mark that would only be visible up close, but it would do.
He started writing.
Ten minutes later, he stood up and looked down on the three new names he had scratched into the foot. Cornelius, Shank, and Holly. He felt he owed it to her after what the Tetron had done to her mind. He put the knife down and settled himself against the ankle of the machine, finally closing his eyes.
"Care for some company, Mitch?"
Mitchell's eyes opened again. He glanced over. Zed was standing there.
"There's plenty of room," he said.