by Isaac Hooke
Incredibly, when she was sucked from the airlock, her suit integrity had remained intact, and still had pressure, despite the damage taken in the fight with the impostor.
Other Centurions appeared in the void shortly thereafter, similarly expelled from the airlock, continuing along the same trajectory as the Argonaut like herself.
Shaw ignored the pain in her belly and attempted to jet toward the Argonaut, but quickly realized the futility of it. The tiny propellant from the jetpack wasn’t enough to get her back to the rapidly receding ship, especially when said vessel continued to accelerate. She was merely wasting fuel.
So she gave up.
Shaw, the woman who never gave up, simply yielded.
And so there she lay, motionless in defeat, drifting aimlessly through space.
How much time had passed, she didn’t know. Half an hour. An hour, maybe. She simply stared unblinking at the pitiless universe outside her faceplate.
The throbbing pain in her belly had numbed to a distant ache, which occasionally flared up. The pain had seeped into her spirit instead, where it burned her core relentlessly.
My babies.
All was lost. Her twins were dying. And her oxygen was running out.
The end had come.
Rade had done this.
No. She knew it wasn’t Rade. It was an impostor. And yet, it felt like he had committed this crime, if not directly, than indirectly. He had left her aboard the ship. Abandoned her, and gone to the surface, leaving her to search for an enemy, when the foe was already in their midst.
No, it was my choice to stay.
She couldn’t get that final image from her mind. Of Rade punching her in the belly, and then smirking. Her logical mind told her that it wasn’t him, but her emotional mind reminded her that he never wanted the babies in the first place, and would probably be glad when she had a double miscarriage.
No, it’s not true. He will grieve just as much as me.
She closed her eyes tightly for several long moments, willing this bad dream away. But when she opened them once more, the spinning stars remained. As did the distant ache in her belly.
It truly was the end.
I can’t give up, she told herself. I can’t.
The flipflop wasn’t unexpected. Her emotions had essentially been flung onto a metaphorical rollercoaster since her pregnancy, with bouts of depression coming and going. Still, the stark reality of her situation was hard to deny.
She didn’t want to give up, but what choice did she have? The PASS mechanism she wore at her belt had been damaged in the fight with the impostor. And even if it had not been, the Personal Alert Safety System wasn’t powerful enough to transmit farther than several hundred thousand kilometers. And her weak thermal signature wouldn’t register as anything more than background radiation beyond a few kilometers.
Yes, she was doomed.
She glanced at her overhead map and saw the positions of the other robots that had been ejected into space shortly after her, carried forward along a similar trajectory by their initial momentum when they emerged from the Argonaut. Their AI cores were offline, but her Implant still detected their active PASS mechanisms, which transmitted positional information. Those blue dots on the map were her sole accompaniment in this long flight into oblivion.
As she stared at those blue beacons of light, something triggered in her memories. Something Rade had told her long ago.
A smidgen of a plan began to form in her mind.
She fired her jetpack and went to the robots in turn, collecting them. She activated the magnetic mounts on her jumpsuit to attach them to her, and used the carbon fiber cord in her utility belt to further secure them as necessary. It took all of her jumpjet fuel, but soon she had gathered the closest six robots in range.
She recalled Rade’s words once again. Something he had said in passing during a routine jumpsuit inspection. “Did you know, you can link the power supplies from the Centurions to a single PASS mechanism? It’s a quick way to boost the range in a bind.”
Shaw removed the device from the waist of the robot closest to her, and proceeded to open up the Centurion’s chest panel. She redirected the battery leads to the mechanism, and repeated the latter action with the remaining Centurions until she had joined all of them to the single device.
Then she powered on the mechanism. She was relieved when the green light appeared.
Now all she could do was wait.
It might not be enough.
Probably wasn’t.
But it was all she had.
She was used to facing desolation and hopelessness at various times in her life. And as she stared out into the infinite points of lights composing the void, all she could think was how a day before she had thought the starscape so beautiful.
But it held no beauty now.
She felt the earlier despair creeping up to engulf her once more.
She was going to lose two points of light more valuable to her than any of those stars. Two points that had not yet been born. Even if she survived this, the chances were low that her children would. Too much time had passed since she was hit in the womb.
No. That’s not true. They will survive! They’re strong, like their father and mother.
She winced as a powerful wave of pain passed through her abdomen.
Forgive me, Alex and Sil.
I failed to protect you, as was my duty.
I failed...
seventeen
Finished his talk with Bender, Rade shoved off from the cabin wall toward the cockpit. He didn’t want to attempt sleep, not for quite a while yet. And yet he couldn’t simply idle in his seat, not in his current condition: he needed something to distract his mind from Shaw.
He halted his forward motion by grabbing on to the rear of the seat Surus occupied beside Algorithm.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, a questioning look on her face in the dim light.
Rade nodded toward the swarm robot she had placed on the featureless dashboard. It was roughly the size of his hand, or a big tarantula.
“What do we know so far?” Rade asked.
The robot was lying on its back, its legs spread apart and pinned down, its underside exposed. Like an insect, the oval-shaped body was divided into three segments, a long abdomen, smaller thorax that bore the legs, and a smaller head. Above the mandibles of the head he saw two dark, previously unnoticed smears that could have been eyes. At the end of the abdomen were four small hooks, perhaps stingers.
Surus had peeled back a portion of the metal skin along the underside, probably via the surgical laser in her glove, to reveal the innards, which resembled steel wool.
“Where to begin...” Surus said. “You see the hooks on the abdomen of the micro robot? Those are essentially spinnerets.”
“Spinnerets?” Rade said. “Like a spider?”
“Yes,” Surus said. “Except that instead of spinning a web, it uses the raw materials it ingests to 3D print copies of itself. When utilized in conjunction with its minuscule pulse laser, which can fuse different parts together, it can create these clones at a rapid pace. I reviewed the video logs I took from the tunnel, when the swarm engulfed and disintegrated the exploratory vehicle, and saw evidence of this behavior. The metal skin also appears to be selectively magnetizable, much like the hulls of the Hoplites; that property, in addition to the realtime 3D-printing capabilities provided by the spinnerets and lasers, allowed the swarm to create the massive behemoths we saw, including the particle beam weapons.”
Rade frowned. “Where’s this pulse laser you mentioned?”
“Here.” Surus pointed at the small tube that protruded between the robot’s mandibles.
“Looks like a proboscis,” Rade said.
“Be careful not to confuse biological components common in the human world with mechanical components in the alien,” Surus said. “It is a laser.”
“Why didn’t they ever fire on us with those lasers?” Rade said.
/> “They’re extremely short range. Equivalent to the surgical lasers in the fingertips of your jumpsuit gloves. In addition to helping with the 3D printing process, my guess is the laser aids the mandibles in tearing away raw materials from objects, perhaps using it to help break down metals into raw materials for internal processing before eventual 3D printing via the spinnerets. It is a very good thing we never allowed the swarm to touch our Hoplites.”
“I hear you,” Rade said. “So tell me, how do they communicate?”
“There are four dark spots on the upper carapace,” she said. “As far as I can determine, those are antennae, allowing the robots to link. They don’t communicate via ordinary radio waves, however. I believe they utilize quantum Slipstreams.”
“Quantum Slipstreams again,” Rade said. “Like Phants.”
“Yes,” Surus said. “I picked up the signatures out there. I’m sure some of your Argonauts did as well, or if not, they will when they review the combat logs. I’m not certain if that’s the default communication method these aliens used, or something Alton baked in. I suspect the latter, however these robots are clearly Tech Class IV machinery, and it is possible the alien creators may have discovered quantum Slipstream communications independently, perhaps millions of years before we did.”
“You say that like you believe the aliens are extinct,” Rade said.
“They must be,” Surus said. “For their ship to be encased in rock like that, hundreds of thousands, if not millions of years, would have had to have passed. Those that were in suspended animation aboard were likely the last of their kind. And Alton slew them all.”
“Not all of them,” Rade said, nodding toward the robot.
Surus nodded. “Their AI legacy lives on. It appears that each of these robots have a small neural network. The miniaturizing tech is ahead of anything humans have. They’ve essentially packed the equivalent of a cat’s brain into the space of a tarantula.”
“So each of them is individually sentient?” Rade asked
“In the same way a cat is sentient. With that respective level of intelligence.”
“So not very,” Rade said.
“Animals such as cats can be very smart, but yes, taken individually, the micro robots lack the higher functions of something like a human being. However, when they form part of the swarm, linking via the adhoc quantum Slipstream network, or when combining to create the bigger behemoths, joining their individual neural nets into a single coherent unit, I have no doubt they become a being of massive intellect. Definitely incredibly self-aware, and cunning.”
“We need a way to neutralize or disrupt their communications,” Rade said. “The equivalent of Repellent, as Bender said earlier.”
“Quantum Slipstreams are not very susceptible to directional interference,” Surus said. “Though it’s possible I might be able to disrupt their communications by means of a spoofing attack. I’d have to create a quantum Slipstream antenna of my own.”
“What do you need for that?” Rade asked.
She shook her head. “If I was aboard the Argonaut, with access to the industrial-grade 3D printers aboard, I could come up with something in relatively short order. But as of right now, I can do nothing.”
“Can’t you repurpose the antennae in the samples you captured?” Rade asked, nodding toward the micro robot.
“Since they are damaged, and I don’t quite understand how these robots are powered,” Surus said, “that will prove difficult.”
“All right,” Rade said. “Keep working.”
He turned away, and was about to shove off from the seats when Algorithm spoke.
“Got a signal!” Algorithm said.
Rade swung back around to face the Centurion. “Shaw. Where is she?”
“It’s not Shaw,” Algorithm said.
Rade’s hopes fell.
“At least,” Algorithm continued, “not according to these readings. The signal ID matches the PASS device assigned to Unit U. Though the signal intensity is far higher than I’d expect.”
“It’s her,” Rade said. “It has to be. She must have linked the power supplies from multiple robots to the PASS.” Something I told her about once. I think. “How far away is it?”
“Not far,” Algorithm said. “The signal is on the same trajectory as the Argonaut, with a velocity vector of about a quarter the speed. We’ll reach it in thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?” Rade said. “A quarter the speed? So she’s not aboard the Argonaut...”
“No,” Algorithm said. “If it is Shaw, she’s definitely not aboard. The signal is far behind the Argonaut. She must have jettisoned before the Marauder class ship achieved its full speed. Would you like me to adjust course for a pickup?”
Rade didn’t answer.
She had to be with that robot. She had to have a jumpsuit.
“Boss?” Algorithm said.
“Yes,” Rade said distractedly. “Set a course.”
Some of the Argonauts must have heard, because in a few minutes time they were all awake, anxiously awaiting news on Shaw.
When they were fifteen minutes out, Algorithm reported: “I’m able to get a relatively good picture on maximum zoom. It’s definitely Shaw. She’s wearing a jumpsuit. It appears she’s attached several other jettisoned robots to her spacesuit.”
Rade switched to the external forward camera. It was already set to maximum magnification. Six combat robots were huddled around a figure in a jumpsuit. That figure slowly rotated. He could see the connections leading from open panels in the chests of the Centurions to a PASS device clutched in the figure’s hand.
The faceplate came into view and Rade’s heart leaped.
It was Shaw.
But her eyes were closed.
He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.
He told himself that she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t.
But then why was her face so pale? Almost bluish...
“We should be within hailing range,” Rade said.
“Yes,” Algorithm said. “I’ve been trying to reach her, but she’s not responding.”
“What about the robots?” Rade said.
“They appear to be offline,” Algorithm said.
Rade felt a rising feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach as the twin shuttles continued to approach.
Five minutes away he went to the rear of the cabin and sealed his faceplate. “Argonauts, helmets on and faceplates sealed. Algorithm, prepare to depressurize and open the cabin.”
One minute out, Rade gave the order for Algorithm to begin slowing down to match speed.
He attached a lifeline to the cabin wall.
“Tahoe?” Rade glanced at his friend.
Tahoe nodded, and attached a lifeline to the opposite wall.
“Depressurize,” Rade ordered. “And open the rear ramp.”
The atmosphere flushed from the cabin and the ramp opened.
“Tahoe, with me,” Rade said.
Rade floated out. The cluster of combat robots with Shaw in their midst drifted past below.
“We’re coming for you, Shaw,” Rade transmitted.
She didn’t answer.
He activated a burst of thrust and accelerated into the void. The long line of Hoplites towed along behind the shuttles drifted past above him.
He was halfway to Shaw and the Centurions when he reached the extents of his lifeline. He fired countering thrust to stabilize.
“Wait here, Tahoe,” Rade said to his friend, who had also reached the limit of his line beside him.
Rade disconnected the line and launched another burst. He floated the remaining distance to Shaw and reached through the twisted bodies of the robots to wrap his glove around the handle in her torso. Then he engaged reverse thrust.
The pair floated toward the twin shuttles. Rade exhausted his jumpjet fuel, but a moment later Tahoe latched on, and then fired his own jets to increase their return rate. In seconds they piled inside.
“Seal the ramp
and pressurize,” Rade said.
The clump of robots floated in the middle of the cabin. Rade accessed the remote interface of Shaw’s jumpsuit and entered his password to demagnetize the surface. The robots drifted away. The limbs of a few of them were still secured to her jumpsuit via the carbon fiber cord, likely sourced from her utility belt. He unwrapped the cord and freed the last of the Centurions. Then he and the other Argonauts moved the robots away.
“Strap the Centurions into the spare seats,” Rade ordered, focusing his attention on Shaw.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Manic said.
“I’ve accessed the remote interface of her suit,” Algorithm said. “Her heart has stopped. It appears her oxygen supply ran out shortly before we arrived. Her suit has taken blunt force damage in many places. Her oxygen tank was struck, and had a slow leak. Before we arrived, her suit likely injected a decelerant to slow her metabolic rate and reduce her oxygen requirements, in the hopes of prolonging her life until we could find her. By my calculations, she would have been alive up to one minute ago.”
“If we had arrived only sixty seconds earlier...” Manic said.
“I’m sorry, boss,” Algorithm said.
Tahoe was openly weeping. As was Bender.
Rade hardly noticed. His mind shifted into battle mode, and a sense of collectedness and control came over him. This would be the most important battle he had ever fought.
When Rade spoke, his voice was dead calm. “Manic, help me remove the torso assembly.”
Rade and Manic moved swiftly, opening the latches on her arm assemblies, and removing the pieces to focus on the helmet and chest areas. Together, they removed that torso faster than they had ever done for a wounded companion before. Leaving the lower assemblies of the jumpsuit in place, Rade grabbed the knife from his utility belt and used it to rip open the top portion of her cooling and ventilation undergarment, exposing her chest.
“Tahoe, the Weaver.” Rade fired his jumpjets and gently brought Shaw to one of the seats. He carefully secured her, allowing the clamps to telescope against her sides.
Rade removed his helmet and let it float away. His head felt frigid, thanks to the perspiration matting his hair. He smelled sweat, and the fetor of voided bowels, thanks to Shaw’s open suit. He vaguely wondered why the latter stench reached his nostrils, but apparently the waste disposal apparatus of the suit was malfunctioning.