Metal Swarm

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The tense standoff lasted for a long moment. The breedex seemed to be considering every aspect of the problem, every advantage. Finally, grudgingly, the domates lifted their segmented limbs and took two steps backward. “Take them. Remove them from here.” With a gesture of its jointed arm, the domate pointed to the thick-walled stockade, from which humans shouted for help. “This planet remains ours.”

  “This planet is yours,” Zan’nh agreed. He issued orders to his soldiers still waiting inside the cutter. They broke the stockade gates open, and desperate, grateful humans streamed out, some falling to their knees and sobbing, others clutching at the hands and uniforms of the Ildirans.

  He had to move swiftly. “Fill the cutters and take these people back to the warliners. We must do this in a single trip—before the Klikiss reconsider.” Fewer than one hundred human colonists remained alive, and they easily fit aboard the transport vessels.

  Zan’nh backed toward his cutter, staring at the domates, anxious to be gone from Cjeldre. He had fulfilled the Mage-Imperator’s orders to rescue human colonists, but he did not feel overly triumphant.

  Motionless, the Klikiss watched the Solar Navy depart.

  89 SIRIX

  Before the black robots could destroy the main towers on Llaro, a sudden and overwhelming wave of Klikiss warriors poured from the main city, carrying the bell-mouthed energy weapons Sirix had encountered during the first attack on Wollamor. Could this be the same subhive? The Klikiss began to mow down black robots, Soldier compies, and even their own unarmed warriors who stood in the way.

  With this new surge of unexpected reinforcements, the insect warriors began slaughtering Sirix’s troops. He saw the disaster unfolding and knew he could not risk a continued pursuit of DD, nor could he keep fighting the Klikiss. Though the robots killed three insect creatures for every one of their own casualties, Sirix could not afford those losses. He had no choice but to sound a retreat.

  “To the dropships! Back to orbit.” He could expend some of his remaining heavy-caliber weaponry, the large-scale planetary jazers, to obliterate this infestation, or at least clear a path for his surviving comrades to escape. He might still achieve victory here, though it would cost him more than he had anticipated.

  Several of the EDF landers had been damaged in their high-velocity descent, and the robots climbing aboard could not get the engines started. One dropship lifted off, lumbered into the air, and crashed with sufficient force to damage the occupants. Before any survivors could scramble out of the wreckage, the Klikiss fell upon it.

  However, so many of the black robots had been wiped out on the ground that there were more functional dropships than the survivors required. Most of the crafts lifted off into the sky and fled the battleground, intending to return with hellish fire from above.

  But the Llaro breedex had one more unpleasant surprise.

  The Klikiss responded as Sirix’s dropships returned to their battle group in orbit. Even before the landers had docked with the main warships, hundreds of boxlike ships launched from ground bases below in a shower of individual Klikiss fighters.

  Considering the size of the enemy force drawing together with remarkable speed, the breedex must have been preparing to launch a vigorous swarm war. And Sirix had blundered into a subhive that was far more prepared than it should have been. He ordered the Juggernaut’s jazers to open fire, targeting individual Klikiss component ships, but there were too many, and they were too widely separated.

  The flurry of small ships ascended into space, firing at the EDF ships like stinging gnats, then drew together like iron filings pulled toward a magnet. The individual vessels interlocked into a configuration Sirix recognized as a Klikiss swarmship—with enough combined firepower to peel away the armored hull of an EDF battleship.

  His robots had encountered a similar conglomerate vessel at Scholld, but this swarmship had an unexpected capability. The interlocking components shifted like a puzzle, rearranging themselves, until half of the swarmship configured itself into a bizarre cannon with a gaping barrel large enough to swallow a small asteroid. Sparkles of energy jumped among the multiple components, engaging linkages, powering the central weapon.

  The cannon’s mouth glowed orange, then blazed a searing blue-white. A geyser of barely controlled energy vomited out and disintegrated one of Sirix’s Mantas. Within two seconds, the swarmship pivoted in space and acquired another target as it recharged. Before the second Manta could accelerate out of the way, the weapon discharged again, ripping it apart.

  Sirix knew his Juggernaut would be a prime target. “More speed from our engines.” Descending to extremely low orbit, the battleship clawed its way through the fringes of Llaro’s atmosphere, trying to skip over the horizon and dodge the weapon’s line of fire. The moment he reached the planet’s shadow, Sirix altered course and headed out into the system. The hardened robots could withstand the crushing acceleration. PD and QT lost their balance, tumbled, and rolled across the deck until they banged together against a bulkhead.

  Even so, the Juggernaut could not get out of range of the pursuing Klikiss swarmship fast enough. From too far away, the giant weapon spat a gout of destructive energy, which fortunately dissipated too widely to vaporize the Juggernaut outright. Many of the bridge’s control panels sparked and smoked before going dead, but the big ship kept moving.

  One of his fellow robot-controlled ships came back around, looped over the planet’s south pole, and rose up to open fire on the swarmship. Multiple jazer blasts splintered off more than a hundred of the small Klikiss component craft, but the myriad ship recoalesced and formed its exotic weapon again—this time with the gaping barrel pointing toward the annoying Manta. The robot ship was vaporized in a single blast.

  The Juggernaut continued to flee, while back at the planet the swarmship continued to hunt down the scattering EDF Mantas. PD strained against the continuing brutal acceleration to force himself into a sitting position. “That ship sacrificed itself for us. Why would a robot do that?”

  Still pinned to the deck, QT said in a distorted voice, “Unexpected . . . and illogical.”

  Sirix did not acknowledge the sacrifice. Each black robot was unique, theoretically equivalent. It made no sense that some of them would allow themselves to be destroyed to protect him, their de facto leader. The very idea was disturbing, but he could not allow himself to focus on the anomalous behavior. Instead, he calculated the consequences of the attrition. Three Mantas lost, and the Juggernaut’s engines damaged. Hundreds of black robots wiped out.

  Enduring thrust far beyond the ship’s design specifications, they hurtled out of the Llaro system. A failed mission. His dreams of grand conquest were fading into static! Gathering whatever numbers he could salvage, he beat a wild retreat.

  90 ORLI COVITZ

  Leaving the Llaro settlement behind, Orli and the group of exhausted escapees ran pell-mell across the trampled dirt and stripped fields, beyond the smoke and turmoil of the robots’ clash with the Klikiss. With the breedex fighting for its hive, Orli doubted many of the creatures would be abroad. Running again, escaping again, she thought.

  “I remember a place where we can shelter until nightfall,” Mr. Steinman said. “If we push ourselves, we can get to Davlin’s hideout tomorrow night.”

  Some of the anxious people began to groan as they hurried along. There were twenty of them, including seven children and two compies. “Even if we do make it to the cave with all the others, then what?” Crim Tylar asked. “Do we just hide?” He seemed distraught over leaving his wife behind.

  Others had similar concerns. “How long can we survive out there without food and supplies? A few days? We can’t live that way.”

  “We live for another day,” Mayor Ruis said with absolute conviction, “then we take it from there.”

  DD sounded cheerful. “One step at a time. Taking too many steps too quickly could cause you to stumble.” He moved tirelessly beside the Governess compy. UR did her best to keep her w
ards together, nudging them along; occasionally she and DD carried the littler ones. The adults also took turns.

  Each step took them farther from the settlement and out into the open, where Klikiss searchers could easily spot them. “I hope the black robots have caused serious damage to the hive,” DD said. “It would be a good thing if Sirix were destroyed, as well.”

  “I hope they damn well destroy each other,” Crim said. “Now, that would make me happy.” He inspected the projectile rifle that Mr. Steinman carried. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

  “Just point and destroy. Right?”

  “I wish you’d had more practice.”

  After three hours at a fast pace, Steinman led them to a clump of talus boulders and helter-skelter outcroppings as big as houses. By the time they collapsed on the rocks, Orli was totally drained. Utterly weary and terrified, the children dropped to the ground; most were whimpering. Orli squatted next to them, unslung her pack, and pulled out her synthesizer strips, thinking she could play them a lullaby while they all waited for darkness to fall. In her pack, she found a few energy bars, broke them into pieces, and shared them among the children.

  The Governess compy was impressed. “Thank you, Orli Covitz.”

  DD stood like a toy soldier guarding the whole group. The escapees made a lot of noise as they settled down to hide. Steinman leaned his weapon against a rock and cracked his knuckles behind his head. “I could use a nap.”

  “Something is not right,” DD said. “I detect unusual noises.”

  They all heard scratching and scraping from the dark cracks between the piled talus boulders. “It’s a damned bug!” cried Crim, jumping to his feet.

  A Klikiss scout, smaller than an armored warrior but still deadly, emerged from its shadowy hiding place near where the children had gathered. The boys and girls screamed and leaped backward, tripping over the rocks. DD grabbed a nine-year-old and pulled him out of the way.

  The Klikiss clacked its jagged forelimbs. Mr. Steinman lunged for his projectile rifle. The scout insect smashed him aside. It vibrated its wings with a menacing buzz. Mayor Ruis threw a rock at the creature, but the stone bounced off the hard exoskeleton.

  Before the Klikiss could lunge toward the children, though, UR stood directly in front of the creature. “You will not harm them.” The scout batted the Governess compy with a hard forelimb, a blow that would have broken a human in half, but though she rocked with the impact, she did not budge. Instead, UR grabbed its clawed arm with her polymer hands and cracked down, snapping the chitin shell and twisting off the forelimb. The monstrous scout whistled and seized UR’s right arm in two of its claws, pulling, ripping, and completely severing her limb. She reeled, her stump dripping fluids and sparking. The scout rammed her, and she tumbled to the rocks, while DD ran toward her in alarm, trying to assist.

  Orli had a frantic thought and nothing to lose. She fumbled until her fingers instinctively found the Power tab on her synthesizer strips. Without thinking, she began to play one of her well-practiced original melodies. The music suddenly rang out from the implanted speakers, rising unexpectedly into the pandemonium.

  Hearing the strange tune, the Klikiss scout paused, swiveling its head and quivering as it searched for the source. Mr. Steinman pointed his weapon and fired a blast. The projectile shattered the creature’s head into greenish pulp, and the armored body slumped, twitching, to the dirt.

  In the aftermath, the escapees shuddered as they recovered themselves and helped UR back to her feet. DD appeared to be even more upset than the Governess compy, who seemed dazed and disoriented. DD’s voice was thick with forced reassurance, both for the dismayed children and for the other compy. “The damage is reparable. No memories or vital systems were harmed. I can stop these leaks and cap off the damaged circuits. You will be all right, UR.”

  “That was quick thinking, Orli,” Ruis said. He looked ready to vomit. “A most unusual means of defense.”

  She couldn’t believe it herself. “It seemed the right thing to do. Margaret gave me the suggestion.”

  “I’m sorry to say this, all of you,” Steinman said, “but we’ll have to keep going now. Thanks to the scout, the breedex has seen us.”

  “That’s fine. That’s just fine,” said Crim, as he held up the Governess compy’s severed arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  91 CHAIRMAN BASIL WENCESLAS

  Despite Basil’s careful control of information, the people had begun to make up their own stories, and some even rallied against the Hansa. The condemnation from King Peter had spread like wildfire across the breakaway colonies and even among a few pathetic dissident groups that were beginning to appear on Earth.

  After everything the Chairman had done for them! Couldn’t they see what was at stake? Basil felt like a man trying to hold back the tide with his hands. Why did humanity refuse strong leadership and insist on self-destructive behavior? They chased every distraction and believed every ridiculous rumor. It would serve them right if he threw up his hands, abandoned his post, and left these selfish idiots to careen headlong to their own downfall.

  But he couldn’t do that. He cared about humanity too much. Even if no one else could see what needed to be done, even if others refused to follow instructions, he had the vision to pull humanity back from the brink.

  The Terran Hanseatic League was the greatest government ever formed, the strongest and most beneficial organization that humanity had ever known. Yet all that went out the window the moment anybody felt the slightest discomfort. Fickle! They refused to make sacrifices or work hard. If only the people would all put in as much effort as he did! They were weak and easily influenced by liars and charlatans who didn’t know their proper places—like King Peter. At times Basil felt hopeless, not sure how even he could turn this around. But he was the Hansa Chairman, and he intended to fix everything, whether the people wanted it fixed or not. He simply had to work harder.

  When he first heard the outrageous accusations and the recorded confession from Patrick Fitzpatrick, Basil sent a summons directly to former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick’s Rocky Mountain mansion, along with a handful of guards to make sure his invitation was accepted. Hansa priorities outweighed any prior commitments or meetings the old Battleaxe might have.

  When the former Chairman arrived, she looked impeccable wearing a dove-gray dress and a necklace of tasteful reef-pearls. Her skin was tight, her hair carrying a mature touch of gray, though nothing to suggest her true age. Maureen Fitzpatrick no doubt underwent the most expensive anti-aging and rejuvenation treatments using rare kelp extracts from Rhejak—as Basil himself did. Before long, if Admiral Willis did her job properly, shipments from Rhejak would become much less expensive. . . .

  Entering the penthouse offices, Maureen walked directly to the windows and took in the view. “Ah, it’s been a long time since I was up here. Thank you for inviting me.” She turned to him. “You’ve got quite a lot on your plate. Need some advice?”

  Basil frowned. “I have my own advisers.”

  “Not as many as you once had, from what I hear.” Maureen went to the drink dispenser and got herself a glass of wine without being asked. She sat back in a chair, took a sip, and held the glass up to the sunlight to study the garnet color. “Interesting vintage. From Relleker? I can recommend some better ones, if you’d like.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I rarely drink, especially while I’m working—and I’m always working.”

  “I remember those days.” Maureen took another sip. “Still, it’s not bad.”

  Basil felt a flash of anger to see her act altogether too familiar with these offices. “Recent developments forced me to summon you here, Madame Chairman. This is about your grandson.”

  She set the glass down. “What has Patrick done now? His captivity under the Roamers affected him more than we suspected. He needed a great deal more intensive counseling.”

  “He needed to be arrested.”

  Finally,
Maureen seemed rattled. “Arrested? Is General Lanyan on his kick to find a scapegoat for AWOL soldiers again?”

  “In a time of war, it’s called desertion,” Basil corrected her. He felt a brief craving for a cup of cardamom coffee, but pushed it aside. “This is something far more serious than desertion, Madame Chairman.”

  “Now you’ve got my interest.”

  “He’s plotting the overthrow of the Hansa government.”

  Maureen let out an explosive laugh. “Patrick? My Patrick?”

  He called up an image on his desk and played King Peter’s speech, to which was appended her grandson’s full confession.

  Maureen listened sternly. “Yes, Patrick told me about blowing up that Roamer ship. I tried to explain political realities to him.” She shook her head. “I apologize, Mr. Chairman. I never expected him to abandon his EDF duties, but I knew the guilt was eating at him. I should have watched him more closely. I haven’t seen him in some time, you understand. He stole my space yacht and disappeared before the hydrogues came to Earth. I wish I knew where he was.”

  Basil fumed. “He is with the Roamers on one of their skymines! It’s bad enough that he publicly admitted such an act. I thought we had succeeded in quelling the uproar, getting the Roamers under control—and now he’s fanned the flames again. That in itself is bad enough. Then he tops it all off by turning the blame not only on himself, but on his commanding officer and his commander in chief? That’s absolutely unforgivable. Accusing General Lanyan of issuing the murderous orders and me of covering up the incident! Even if his statement were true—and I’m not saying it is—it’s a cowardly act to blame his superiors. I want you to do something about it. Talk to him, make him retract his statement. At the very least, get him back here.”

  “I haven’t a clue how to do that. He won’t listen to me.” Basil was ready to dismiss the old woman when Maureen leaned forward, her wine forgotten. She glanced around the room as if to reassure herself that the doors were sealed and no one was eavesdropping. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Mr. Chairman. You know as well as I do that Lanyan did give that order. It was a bad command decision with repercussions neither the General, nor you yourself, imagined. When the Roamers caught you, it backfired in your face.”