“Good catch, Olivia,” I said.
“Yes,” Maauro added.
“You’re not the only one with augmented vision,” Olivia said, tapping the front of her faceplate. “Still I’m surprised that I spotted it before you.”
“My attention was distracted by the aerospace bomber over us.”
Olivia and I jerked as if touched with live wires.
“Do not move,” Maauro cautioned.
We both disobeyed her enough to look up.
Hanging several hundred meters above us, a black and yellow fighter pointed its prow and weapons at us.
“A Daitan,” Olivia said, “four-person, bomber. Old Confed model, they must have bought it surplus. It could scrag us and the Stardust in one salvo of those missiles on the hardpoints. Dammit, it must have been hiding on the other side of the moon and just popped over the horizon.”
“Correct,” Maauro said. “You were under its weapons from that instant. There was no opportunity to escape.”
“Maauro,” I asked. “Can you do anything?” We hadn’t brought any weapons with us. Maauro was deadlier than anything we could carry.
“No, the bomber is too well shielded from cyber-hacks. I might confuse the missiles but not the chain gun in the nose. I have sent a message to Dusko to do nothing. If he warms up the laser or switches on the fire control, they will doubtless destroy our ship.”
“Do not move,” an artificial voice sounded in our ears, breaking in on our frequency. “Resist and we will kill you.”
“What do you want?” I called.
“Male human, raise your arm.”
I looked at Maauro and she nodded. I raised my hand, glaring at the black and yellow bomber.
“Female human, raise your arm.”
“Maauro?” Olivia asked.
“Comply,” Maauro said.
“Step away from the machine being,” the voice ordered.
“Maauro,” I yelled. “Run now. Run.”
For once, she obeyed instantly. Maauro lunged, tumbled and changed directions with blinding speed. The Daitan’s chain gun flared, silently spitting depleted uranium at Maauro. The slugs chewed up the moon’s surface as Olivia and I threw ourselves flat, hoping that none of the rock chips hit our vulnerable suits. But the rounds trailed the racing android as she disappeared, zigzagging over the near horizon of the moonlet.
“Humans,” the translated voice couldn’t convey the fury its owner likely felt. “Move toward your ship or die.” The fighter settled lower in the sky, with Eta IV glaring down behind it like the face of an angry god. Three Solari stepped out of its belly hatch and fell slowly, using jet belts to land near us. I’d entertained the hope that they’d try to pursue Maauro on foot, but unfortunately they showed no sign of it.
I could see inside the big bubble helmets of the Solari, who resembled a mix of Terran ant and beetle. They weren’t insects, but their appearance suggested it. The faces in the helmets were devoid of any expression I could read, their black, beetle eyes stared at us, glinting in the reflected light. They held standard Confed carbines pointed at us.
I watched for Maauro, but with the bomber hovering over us there was no chance. It was one thing to dodge away, where they had no way of telling where she was heading. Coming to the attack, it would be too easy for the fighter lead her and destroy her.
“Dua-Denlenn,” the voice came. “Open the ship or be destroyed.”
Dusko opened the airlock and two Solari went in. The last one kept us covered. Olivia looked at me and I shook my head. Then it was our turn in the airlock. When we came through, it was to find Dusko staring sourly at two Solari who had shed their suits. They wore pants and vests over their dark and spindly-limbed bodies. The third one cycled in behind us and also shed his suit.
One Solari, wearing gold tabs on its vest collar turned to the others. It chittered something at them then headed for the bridge. The two with us gestured with their weapons.
“Cargo hold,” one Solari said in Standard. We walked upward from the lower airlock. The Solari opened the hatch and ushered us in. The hold was crowded with supplies for the voyage, the crab-robots secured to the walls, crates and other gear. “On floor, sit.”
The other Solari left, turning toward the hatch to the drive unit deck. The Solari with us sealed the hatch door.
“Good thing you made Maauro take that suit,” Olivia said. “They couldn’t tell which one of us was her. If she’d been out without one, they’d have sieved her on the first pass.”
“Silence,” the Solari said.
The vibration of the drive reached us through the deck plates and I realized what was happening. They were taking off, stranding Maauro on this moon.
“No,” I said, standing, distantly surprised, as if I was watching myself from some safe place. “You’re not stranding her on an airless rock. Not again.”
The Solari stepped forward and made an abrupt gesture with the weapon. “Sit!”
“Wrik,” Olivia said, alarmed. “Follow your own advice. Wait.”
“No,” I said, a frantic feeling welling in my chest. “She’s not a machine. Not now. You can’t leave her here, alone.”
“Trigardt,” Dusko snapped. “Don’t be a fool.”
“I won’t let her be marooned.”
The Solari struck me with a backhanded blow. I’d underestimated the distance between us— the long arm, with its horn-hard hand dazed me. I felt the hand with its pincer-like fingers cut it into my shoulder as it grabbed me and pitched me into Olivia, who’d gathered her feet under her. We tumbled to the deck.
Olivia grabbed my good arm and twisted it behind me. “Wrik, if I have to break your arm to keep you from getting killed, I will.”
“I won’t let her be left,” I snarled.
“Trust Maauro,” Dusko demanded. “Trust her and stop being a fool.”
Dusko telling me to trust Maauro was like having a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. The insanity that drove me seconds ago, abated. I relaxed in Olivia’s hold and she let go of my arm.
“You can’t come back for her if you’re dead,” Olivia said. “Listen to Dusko.”
I looked over at the Dua-Denlenn and nodded. “Thanks,” I muttered, my breath slowing.
“Bah,” he replied. “If we let you get killed she’d probably incinerate us, anyway.”
“Let me look at that shoulder,” Olivia said. “You’re bleeding heavily.”
I looked up at the Solari. I’ll kill you, I thought. I swear to God I’ll kill all of you.
Chapter 11
The Solari take off in Stardust, their Daitan bomber trailing. I must make my move. I tear off the spacesuit I am wearing, which will not survive my actions and might impede me. I generate studs on the bottom of my feet as I start running. In seconds I am accelerating through 450kph, literally tearing up the ground as I bound over the surface of this moonlet. Quickly I achieve the maximum ground speed I can, then angle toward the largest rise in sight.
At the apex of the rise, I fling myself spaceward then invert until the plasma torch in my right hand is pointed at the moon. I fire it at full power. My only chance is now. There is no point in holding back.
I turn my head through 180 degrees so I can optically focus on Stardust and the bomber. I am relieved. The Solari are planning to land on Eta IV, as I suspected. They have not increased speed, having, like me, escaped the gravitational pull of the moonlet. With the close orbit of this moon, there is little reason for a power burn. It would just complicate the approach landing window for their home base.
I calculate angles and trajectories. If the Stardust does not alter course I can land on it in twenty minutes. I cease my plasma burn and reorient my body to face the fighter. I will use a small quick burn as I close in. I cannot interfere with the Daitan’s instruments, but my own ECM is sufficient that the
fighter’s crude, passive search sensors do not detect me. Its active sensors would, but it has not occurred to them that I might be able to chase them this way.
As I speed toward the fighter, I reach out through the ship’s internal sensors and locate Wrik, Dusko and Olivia. All are present in the cargo hold, guarded by a Solari with a carbine. Wrik appears to be injured, bleeding from the shoulder. Anger lights within me.
The minutes crawl by. I find it difficult to be patient in these circumstances, but I prepare my counterattack. The Daitan grows larger and finally I fire my plasma torch, bringing me to a gentle stop between its two vertical tails. With a powerful pull, I launch myself to the back of the bubble canopy under which the pilot sits. The Solari looks up at me, too startled to react, as I slam my bunched fingers down through the canopy and into its brain. Circulatory fluids spray out and bubble. I pull the canopy open, grab the body and pitch it into space. I check the fighter’s autopilot: a standard Confed model. It is undisturbed.
I look across to our ship only fifty meters away. It is time to retake my home and my network. I leap across and order the ship’s AI to open the airlock for me.
I launch a remote attack. In the hold, the Solari guard has but a second of surprise before the crab-robot, latched to the wall next to him, reaches over with two pincers and snips his head from his neck and his weapon hand from his arm. I lock all compartments that lead to the main hold. No additional Solari will reach my friends.
One is outside the airlock when I enter. The expression on his face is probably surprise as the inner airlock door opens and I plunge out, driving my stiffened hands through his body and slashing it into two pieces as I extract. Another Solari is on the bridge, he is squawking an alarm. I move quickly to the bridge area. Using the ship’s cameras I see he is inside with a heavy powergun aimed at the door.
I return to the Solari I killed earlier. I remove its head and race back to the bridge. There is a view panel in the bridge door. I place the head against the panel and shriek in Solari. “Help! The android is onboard. Let me in.”
The Solari inside unlatches the door, but leaps back, suspicious. The small opening is all I need. I spray in a biological agent based on one I used on the Infesters. There is an agonized screech as the agent freezes the Solari’s body in one giant spasm. The nerve toxin causes instant paralysis, though apparently not of the vocal cords, as the screams continue for a few seconds. I would have preferred interrogation, but cannot risk heavy weapon fire inside the ship. I open the door and secure the enemy’s weapon as the Solari expires on the deck.
I order the AI to suck the air in the room out, venting the poison into space. It should not affect my network, but I will not chance it. I toss the two bodies out the airlock as well.
I speed down to the hold and open the doors. Olivia is on the other side with the Solari power rifle leveled at the door. The dead Solari lies in a puddle of its circulatory fluids by the crab-robot. They shout with joy as I open the door, even Dusko. All race over to me.
“The ship is secure,” I say.
“I told you to trust her,” Dusko says, with what for him is an effusive smile. “I knew our Princess of Death wouldn’t let us down.” He pats me on the shoulder. He must have been very afraid. He has never touched me before.
Olivia slaps me on the back. “Hell of a job, Maauro.” I am bemused by this and assume it is akin to Jaelle’s mock attacks on me and a sign of being networked.
Wrik has hung back waiting for the others to move aside. He comes up to me and enfolds me in an embrace. This feels wonderful, though I am distracted by the crude bandaging done on his shoulder, I assume by Olivia, as the torn fabric is from the midriff of her shirt.
“Thank God, you are ok.” he says his voice husky.
“Let us get to the dispensary and make sure we can say the same for you. I will clean up the Solari later. The ship is on autopilot. The fighter is secured as well. Come with me.”
I look around at the bits of Solari scattered about. “I should probably consider making a small maintenance robot for these sorts of tasks.”
Dusko nods, “A good investment of time.”
I take Wrik to the dispensary. I have absorbed all the medical data on the Lost Planet members I might be called on to treat. Wrik’s wounds are simple and I am able to close them with minimal scarring that I can eventually remove.
“How did you come by your wounds?” I ask. “Was the enemy interrogating you?”
He gives a rueful smile. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being marooned on another miserable airless rock. I got a little stupid with the guard.”
I finish cleaning the wounds. “I survived alone for 50,000 years.”
“You weren’t Maauro then, you were M-7. You didn’t need people.”
I realize that his statement is more emotional than empirical and merely smile back. But the longer I consider it, the more I wonder if he might be correct. As M-7, a sentient weapon, I had little emotional life beyond a distant appreciation of the beauty of the stars. Now, having been exposed to wider universe— could I survive an extended period as I had before?
I touch his face with my right hand. “Thank you for thinking of me in this way. You must promise to be more careful in the future.”
“I will,” he said.
We stopped by his quarters for him to freshen up and get a new shirt. Then up to the bridge. Though in a real sense, I was never off the bridge, my AI in Stardust assures me that there are no vessels or weapons targeted on us. We are in deep space and there is no moon for an enemy to hide behind. The Daitan still trails us. I haven’t decided what to do with it.
Olivia and Dusko await us. Both looked tired, but otherwise none-the-worse for wear.
“What now?” Olivia asks. “Do we protest this attack to the authorities?”
“I do not know,” I respond. “It is most likely that the local authorities are involved. This wasn’t a pirate jacking. It’s asking too much of coincidence that a raider showed up here just when we did.”
“Better to leave the area,” Wrik says. “They could tie us down with an investigation for months.”
“It was not practical to take prisoners and in an operation like this, it is unlikely the agents sent to confront us have any useful tactical knowledge. I will examine the fighter to see if there is any information in it.” I add.
“You know it might be a good idea to attach that fighter to us with the ship’s external grapples,” Wrik said. “It could be useful where we are going next.”
“Very well,” I say. “I will jump over to the fighter and bring it in while examining the records and contents.”
Chapter 12
As Stardust drove away from Eta IV and our deadly encounter with the Solari, we spent many hours in the mess, debating what to do next. Maauro had found nothing of interest in the bomber that now rode in Stardust’s grapples. She repaired the canopy. We could jump with the fighter attached, though we would have to detach it to land in any atmosphere. I spent a fair amount of time aboard it and Maauro rigged up a simulator program. It was not that different than my old ship, the Sinner, though shorter-ranged. We stripped out some changes that the Solari had made. It took longer to get the smell of them out of the ship. I made up my mind to take her on some test flights. Sims could only do so much and I needed to get to know the tubby bomber’s idiosyncrasies. I was startled to find that, one morning watch, Maauro was outside, painting the black and yellow bomber to match the Stardust’s green and gold, with a magnetic sprayer.
“It’s ours now,” she replied to my radioed question. “The color scheme indicated otherwise and most biologicals view that color combination as a warning. I wanted something that looked less menacing. Besides, it clashed badly.”
I barked out a laugh. “Jaelle’s been influencing you,” I said. A stab of something troubled my heart at the mention of her,
but I shrugged it off.
“Yes,” Maauro said. “Ever since I came to work in that green and white jumpsuit, she worked rather intensively on my color-sense. She said she would not hang out with someone who dressed like a stick of holiday candy.”
I laughed again and turned back to my morning coffee, then broke out starcharts and again pondered what direction to go. Space was mind-numbingly vast. Jumping without a clue wasn’t like looking for a needle in a haystack; it was like looking for a needle in a continent. We were coming up on the trio of hyperspace entry points. One was the former roundabout way to Eta IV, abandoned after the direct route reopened. I thought it unlikely New Hope or Bexlaw’s Isadora used that one, unless they simply came to grief in deep space and never planeted again. Otherwise some sign would have been found in the well-settled planets on that route. That left the second and third warp points. The one on the other side of the system led to multiple locations in Morok and Denlenn space. Again possible, but less likely they went that way. For lack of any real plan we headed for the third entry point.
I walked into the rec room and stopped short. Olivia was there, her feet wedged under a bar doing pull-ups. She wore a black sports bra and black tights on her legs. As she pulled up the muscles of her belly and thighs tightened, which was quite a sight. I watched in admiration as she knocked off twenty-five reps without much strain.
The outfit didn’t leave a lot to the imagination and Olivia was as hard-bodied as I’d ever seen. Physically perfect except for the artificial eye that replaced the one lost in…it occurred to me that I didn’t know if it was an accident or combat.
She spotted me, put her hands down and came off the wall in a smooth move.
“Hello Wrik,” she said reaching for towel. “Came for a workout?”
“Yes. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No worries. I was just about done.” Her skin glowed with health and sheen of fine perspiration. I found it hard to take my eyes off her body. The small smile on her face told me she knew it.
The Lost (The Maauro Chronicles Book 3) Page 10