by Justin Sloan
Its eyes glowed a deep blue, and it moved with deliberate slowness.
This wasn’t a mech, Kalan realized. It was a full-fledged robot.
“Let him have it,” Kalan called.
Wearl and Jilla immediately began firing, peppering the metal enemy with shot after shot. If the robot was damaged by their fire, it didn’t show. It kept walking forward at its steady pace.
When the robot got within thirty feet Kalan and Bob joined in, figuring the thing was close enough now that they weren’t just wasting ammo with their pistols.
Still the robot kept coming.
“Let’s pull a Kalan!” Jilla shouted.
“Wait, what?” Kalan asked.
“She means what you did earlier,” Wearl answered. “Take out its ankles.”
The group adjusted their aim downward.
The robot seemed unharmed.
Then, when it was fifteen feet away, it stopped and raised its enormous weapon.
“Oh, shit,” Kalan cried. “Take cover!”
He ducked into the doorway as the robot began firing.
Looking past the door frame, Kalan watched as the walls of the hallway were torn to shreds by the robot’s cascade of fire.
When the shooting stopped, Kalan called, “Left ankle! Everyone focus on the left ankle.”
They started shooting.
With all their effort focused on that one spot, it didn’t take long until the robot’s ankle was torn to shreds. It toppled under its own massive weight and hit the floor with a crash.
“Nice!” Jilla shouted.
“Yeah, but what now?” Kalan asked.
The robot attempted to stand, setting down its huge gun and using both hands.
“I got this!” Bob called, and without waiting for anyone to respond he dashed into the corridor. With a grunt he hefted the robot’s rifle to waist level, shoved the barrel under the robot’s chin, and squeeze the trigger.
The light faded from the robot’s eyes and it stopped moving.
“Ha!” Bob shouted. “Take that, you metal bastard.”
Kalan scratched his head. “Holy shit, Bob! That was kinda awesome.”
“I know, right? By the way, I’m keeping this gun.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Jilla said. “You can’t even carry it.”
But he was already hefting it over his shoulder. He looked ridiculous with the massive weapon, but Kalan wasn’t going to ruin his moment of glory.
The communicator Jilla had gotten from the guard station chirped, and Talrok’s voice came though. “I repeat, do you read?”
“We read,” Jilla replied.
“Finally! I’ve been shouting into this thing for five minutes.”
“Sorry, we were fighting a giant robot.”
“Ah,” Talrok said. His voice sounded casual, as if fighting a giant robot were the most natural thing in the world. “We're on our ships with the Grandeur and in the… Well, ‘clear’ is too strong a word, but we’re away. Drones are after us now, which means Aranaught is shifting her focus off Outpost Alpha. Valerie says for you to get your asses out of there.”
“Now that’s an order I can handle,” Kalan said. “We’ll see you soon.”
Suddenly something occurred to Kalan, and he looked down at the robot.
“I think we’d better get moving,” he said. “If there are still robots who haven’t left the outpost, they know where we are.”
“How would they know that?” Jilla asked.
He nodded toward the destroyed robot at their feet. “Because this thing knew, which means Aranaught knows.”
“You’ll have to back that up for me,” Bob said.
“Aranaught is a hive-mind AI, right? That means that if one part of her sees something, the rest of her does too. I think she couldn’t see us with the mech suits since they were meant to be driven by someone with eyes, but full-fledged robots? You better believe she can see what they see.”
“Then let’s stop wasting time and get out of here,” Jilla suggested.
That proved to be easier said than done. While they understood the general path from their current location to the dining hall, they had no idea how to get to the airlock where Nim 47 was docked. Additionally, the outpost was still in the grip of post-battle chaos. Panicked Skulla were running in every direction, and no one wanted to stop to give directions to the Wandrei with the big guns.
They’d been wandering the corridors for long enough to be officially considered lost when they rounded a corner to find something unexpected—one of the mechs from the first wave stalking toward a Skulla male who sat on the floor gazing up in fear.
“Help!” the Skulla called.
As Kalan approached, he recognized the Skulla. “Ah, Daschle. Our friend who did his best to keep us away from the head table!”
The poor Skulla looked terrified, and he blinked hard as he recognized them. “I’m sorry about that, but please help me.”
Kalan gauged the distance between the Skulla and the mech, which was moving much more slowly than the others they’d fought. He guessed that when Aranaught withdrew she had rescinded the attack order, so now it was just sort of wandering toward Daschle.
But Daschle didn’t know that—which meant Kalan could have a little fun.
“I don’t know if we should save you, Daschle. You never got us our meeting, after all.”
The Skulla’s eyes widened. “I did! You talked to Talrok.”
“Yes, but it was Valerie who got us to the head table, which means you still owe us. I don’t know if you want to go any further into debt.”
“I do!” Daschle said quickly. “I mean, I can. Which is to say, I have information.” He swallowed hard. “That Grayhewn you were looking for? Willom? He’s not dead. Talrok lied.”
Kalan froze. “What?”
“It’s true! I know where he’s living now.”
“Daschle, if you’re lying—”
“I’m not, I promise. I can even take you there. It’s on this moon. He has a hidden place. I’ll show you.”
Kalan felt the hope rising within him once again. If this was true—if there really was another Grayhewn on this very moon—it meant his first success might be mere hours away.
“Wearl,” Kalan said, “would you mind doing the honors?”
“My pleasure.”
It took her less than thirty seconds to take down the mech. Now that she’d had practice, she had become quite efficient at it.
When the mech had been destroyed, Kalan walked over to Daschle and pulled him to his feet.
Jilla frowned at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the Skulla in charge here?”
“Yes,” he said, brushing himself off. “I’m supposed to be, but everything went sort of haywire during the battle. One of those damn robots came into the dining hall and we all scattered.”
“Cool leadership skills,” Jilla said.
Daschle looked ashamed. “You’re right. And now I’ve done it again. The outpost needs me, but I’ve promised to take you to Willom—assuming he’ll even see us.”
Anger flashed in Kalan’s eyes. “Hold on, are you backing out on another promise to us? Because if you are, I think we can find more of those mechs wandering around here.”
“Or you could give him to me,” Wearl said. “I’m much more creative than a mech.”
Daschle was unable to hear the Shimmer, but responded to Kalan. “I’m just saying we’ll have our work cut out for us, but we’ll get it done. No worries there.”
“There’d better not be.” Kalan looked to the left, then to the right. “First things first. Which way is the damn airlock?”
Daschle led them through the maze of corridors toward their ship, although the whole place confused Kalan. Sometimes he’d think he saw something familiar, only to see something unfamiliar a moment later. This outpost seemed to have been designed to confound Wandrei like him.
It didn’t matter, because soon they’d be on their way to see this Willom
. It was the first step in a much longer journey, Kalan knew, but it was a success nonetheless.
As they walked they passed many Skulla, some of whom had minor injuries and others who looked lost and confused. Daschle spent a moment or two with each of them, offering either a word of comfort or instructions on what they should do to help with the cleanup effort.
Kalan was impressed. Maybe Daschle had leadership skills after all.
“Here we are,” Daschle said as he led them through an unmarked door. “Airlock Four.”
Kalan smiled as he saw the Nim, but then he glanced at Bob and the smile faded. “You’re not seriously bringing that thing along, are you?”
Bob shifted the massive rifle on his shoulder, trying and failing to hide the strain it had put on him to carry it. “I killed the robot, didn’t I? This is my trophy.”
“Your trophy might not even fit on the ship,” Jilla pointed out.
“Oh, it’ll fit,” Bob insisted. “I’ll make it fit, one way or the other.
Kalan shook his head, wondering how it had come to pass that he was saddled with this strange band of misfits—and wondering why he wouldn’t have it any other way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Space Station
The feeling of unease hadn’t left even after exploring the passages and chambers of this space station for what felt like an eternity. Each step echoed and the ship’s walls gleamed as if alive, accentuated by distant machine noises that sounded almost like deep breaths.
“Stay alert,” Arlay said, as if she were leading her people here.
They turned into a room full of toppled machinery with robot parts scattered here and there. It seemed to be nothing, until one of the robots’ eyes went red and an alarm sounded.
Valerie slammed it into the nearby wall, shattering it, but it was too late. There was clattering from ahead of and behind them, and then the robots and cyborgs started appearing, metal gleaming and shots flying.
Arlay rolled to cover behind one of the toppled machines, and the others followed suit. One of the commander’s people took a few hits and collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood, but by then the group had their weapons out and were pushing back the enemy.
“Where they hell were they before?” Robin shouted, but Valerie continued firing. How the hell should she know?
When she saw an opening, she decided that letting them come to her wasn’t fair—she was going to bring the fight to them. She grabbed a slab of metal and was up and charging. Shots pinged off the metal, but within a second she was at the far door, leaping through the now-broken glass windows at its side. She landed next to a relatively small mech, one that stood only slightly taller than she was. As it spun to aim at her she ducked under it and took out its legs, slamming it into the floor before using it like a baseball bat against the others nearby.
Shots rang out, but from her side and aiming her way.
“Get the others,” Valerie shouted at them. “I’ll take these out.”
She hefted the mech down a side hallway and caught some newcomers off-guard, then darted through them, disconnecting robot limbs and anything else she could hit along the way.
She heard a loud whirring and then, just as she hit the floor, a fresh barrage of bullets tore into the wall next to where she had been standing. She rolled across the floor toward the source and was able to make out three drones, one about to shoot in her direction again.
With a push off the floor, she grabbed its wings and brought her feet up to kick at the body. The wings came free with a pop and she fell with the body to the floor, then chucked the wings at one of the other two drones, causing both to hit the far wall with a small explosion.
Shots came from the hallway and connected with the last drone, taking it down. Valerie was up again, and fired at a new wave of small robots while the rest of her group caught up. Robin led the way, with Arlay and the others close behind.
When they had cleared out this room, she spotted a group of cyborg-looking soldiers ducking through a large metal door. Using vampire speed she darted for it, but wasn’t fast enough.
As the door closed she hit it with her shoulder, but it had already clicked shut. She banged on the door twice in frustration, then noticed something.
Silence.
Her friends were quietly walking up behind her, but that was it. No gunshots. Nothing.
The silence continued, and for the longest time Valerie started to wonder if the enemy had pulled back to find a way around and attack from the rear. She glanced over her shoulder, ready.
What she wasn’t ready for, though, was the crackling of the space station’s comm, followed by an announcement.
“We’ve got it!” Talrok’s voice boomed across the space station. “Everyone, Aranaught is ours!”
Valerie and the others cheered as they stepped out of their hiding places. They had done it! They had actually put this Aranaught out of commission. While Talrok and the others worked to put the finishing touches on their destruction of the virtual monster, Valerie went to the upper deck and turned on her comm to flag down Flynn.
When she did, however, he sounded hysterical.
“For the love of God, Val!” he shouted through her helmet. “I’ve been trying to get you! The Bandian, he kept going on and on, so I had to see what he was saying. He knew Talrok, he says. He says that thing you’re with is an impostor. He’s not Talrok.”
Valerie didn’t know how to respond to that. She stood there for several loud heartbeats trying to process the information, then finally said, “Are you sure? He could be lying.”
“Honestly, as much as I’d like to say that’s probably the case here, I don’t think so.”
Valerie cursed as Robin joined her, then froze. “Flynn, if they didn’t shut down the AI at all but simply took it over, what are the chances they’re hearing all of this right now?”
“Pretty damn high,” a new voice said over the channel. This wasn’t Talrok at all, but the cadence of his voice was the same. There was no doubt in Valerie’s mind that this was the pretender—the fake Talrok.
“What’s your real name?” she demanded, spinning to see if she could spot him. “Where are the hostages? How much of this was really the evil AI?”
His laughter filled the channel, and out of the corner of her eye Valerie saw the Grandeur slowly making its way around, cautious not to draw attention.
“Hostages?” fake-Talrok replied. “You silly human, there never were any hostages. The Skulla I brought up were loyalists. Friends, family, and servants to me and my companions in all this, along with your buddy Palnik.”
Dammit, she’d known that little bastard was planning something, but this was more than she could have imagined.
“We gotta go,” Robin hissed, careful to use her helmet speaker instead of the channel that might get intercepted.
Valerie nodded, facing the Grandeur again. It was approaching, but was not yet close enough.
“To fill you in,” fake-Talrok continued, “the real Talrok is dead. He has been for some time. It was only recently that I got Palnik involved in my little plan, and he’ll be greatly rewarded—not that you’ll be around to see any of this, you and—”
Shots rang out from the other side, blaring in the comm, and then Talrok swore and more firing followed.
“Garcia!” Valerie said. “He’s still down there?”
Robin glanced back at the ship, then the way they had come, and cursed. “Let’s get him.”
They ran back, readying their guns as they tore past the stairs and turned down the corridors into the control room. Garcia had his back to them and was laying down fire.
“We gotta move!” Valerie shouted when she reached him, pulling him out of the way of a shot.
“And let this traitorous bastard get away with this?” Garcia shouted. “No fucking way!”
“This isn’t going to end here!” Valerie countered.
“No, it’ll end back on the moon,” another voice said, and they al
l turned. Commander Arlay was there, crouched beside the entrance to the next corridor back. “Palnik’s there, and your friends. We can work together, and—”
More shots rang out, and they all took cover.
“She’s with him!” Robin protested when nobody said anything. “Please tell me you’re not considering this.”
Valerie took a breath, mind spinning, and then said, “No, he’s too damn cocky right now to try anything more. He wants us dead at this point. Commander, how many of your forces back home would join us?”
“They all thought that was Talrok,” Arlay replied. “If they believe he isn’t when I tell them, then all of them.”
“Well then,” Valerie replied, pausing to fire back, “there you go. Garcia?”
He grumbled something to himself, then gestured backward as he stood to provide covering fire. They all ran to where Arlay crouched, joining her to provide cover-fire while Garcia leapfrogged past them.
They continued like this, Talrok mocking them all the while, until Valerie shouted, “Cutting comm. Flynn, go!”
And then they all sprinted for the edge of the deck, but there was a click nearby as whirring massive-ass turrets turned and prepared to blow the Grandeur out of existence.
“I got this,” Arlay shouted as she went for the first one. Apparently she knew what she was doing, because a few seconds of meddling and she jumped free, circuitry in hand, and stomped on it before leaping over to the next one.
“Cover her!” Robin shouted, already shooting back the way they had come. Valerie watched in horror as more of the turrets readied themselves and rounds were fired, several hitting the Grandeur’s shields.
The ship could take a few of those hits, but many more and she’d be in real trouble. Arlay wasn’t moving fast enough, meaning Valerie had to do something.
She leaped for the next turret and scanned the machinery, wondering if there was any way she—a warrior from post-apocalyptic Earth without access to much machinery—would be able to figure it out. It didn’t take long for the answer, which was “Hell, no,” to hit her.