ARMS For Eternity: (Book 8)

by Stephen Arseneault

  "If they’re still alive."

  Harris returned to the Bangor, pausing as he boarded to look down into the mass of frozen red that surrounded his partner. "We'll bring you back. You'll just have to wait for a while."

  The comms came in from the others; each was waiting with their close family members. Gandy, Sharvie, and Sharvie's parents and brother were first.

  Gandy stood over the pod with a look of concern. "She wasn't deserving of this."

  "None of us are. War has its price. Maybe we're due for paying ours."

  A second run picked up Trish and Garvis along with their remaining family members. The offer was made to Bannis Morgan, but he was determined to be on the last ship out. If Humans remained on Domicile when the Frizoid arrived, he would be among them, offering what organizational assistance he could. With most of the populace likely to be stranded, they would need leadership if there was to be a chance for survival. Most of the key infrastructure personnel were leaving or had already gone.

  Harris walked into Alex's lab, plopping hard into a chair as the waves of adrenaline that had been powering his body began to subside. "Missiles were almost useless, Doc. The bugs just rolled right through them."

  "We thought as much might happen. That weapon has been seen too many times for a defense not to be developed for it."

  Trish sat beside Harris. "You did good, Mr. Gruberg. You've given her a chance where she had none. You were five hours from any medical team. From what we just watched on the recorder logs, there was no way she would have made that trip. So don't give up hope, as hope is not yet lost."

  "All those people down there and we can't do anything for them."

  "You have to look at the mass of our population that we did do something for. None would be free today if it weren't for the efforts of you and Miss Freely. You're both heroes in my eyes. And in the eyes of all Domers."

  "I don't feel like a hero. Heroes keep fighting until the end."

  "The end is not here and you're still fighting."

  Harris patted Trish on the back, which turned into a hug.

  Alex came into the room. "We're pulling out as soon as a freighter drops a load of bots off with us. All have to be gone from Domicile before they arrive. They were going to destroy them when I mentioned the station was perfect for transporting them. It’ll take close to an hour to unload. Close to two hundred thousand.

  "After that, we go to Midelon to pick up the ones who remain there, along with the processor benches. We can't use them, but we can't risk leaving them either. Since you're with us, the Banshee fleet will be meeting us there. How many are left?"

  Trish said, "We got that comm on the way up. Just over fifteen thousand. They cut out from the fight after losing nearly three thousand just to take out a handful of warships. Better to save for later than to waste them."

  The freighter unloaded the last of the Domicile bots before returning to the surface. It was an older ship and would remain at home in the service of those who were left behind. The ship's captain and crew had volunteered to do so.

  Three hours later, Chicago Port Station pulled into orbit around Midelon. The final evacuation of what had once been the hub of the resistance was undertaken. Supplies were brought up first, followed by the twelve thousand processor benches that had been pressed into service. When the last of the benches arrived, the pair of smaller freight shuttles that were servicing the planet began to ferry the last of the bots.

  Gandy sat looking at a monitor whose camera feed was aimed down at the surface. "Goodbye, bogler. That island is all yours now. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts."

  As the last shuttle docked, Alex gave the command to head for Earth. The Frizoid remained a day and a half away yet, but their mission in the space that had been the home for Humans for two thousand years had come to an end. The display monitors showed their progress as the behemoth headed out toward free space.

  Alex stood in front of the others with a forlorn expression. "Course is set. We should be arriving in Earth space in about twenty-three days, four hours. It will be a long ride for us all."

  A rumble passed through the station as they reached free space and the first wormhole generation was attempted.

  Alex opened a comm to Idiot. "What was that? What happened?"

  "We have a fire on deck three. It would appear one of the fusion reactors for the generators went critical and exploded before the safeties could shut it down."

  "Damage?"

  "Damage is being assessed. A team of bots are on their way there now. Fires are still raging."

  Harris said, "Can the affected decks be sealed off?"

  "They can."

  "Do it. Then vent all the air from them. Take away the fuel and those fires will snuff themselves out."

  "Decks two, three, and four are sealed. Ventilation in process. Total evacuation in forty-eight seconds."

  Harris turned to Alex. "We have about thirty-four hours to get this fixed."

  "I don't yet know if that's possible."

  "Do the standard drives still work?"

  "Idiot? Are the standard drives still online?"

  "They are, sir."

  Harris said, "Take us back into orbit. Have the bots and shuttles run to the surface to strip anything they can that we might need for repairs."

  "Idiot, when you have a damage report, work up a detailed schedule of how we might effect repairs using the items on this ship and those on the surface. Let me know when you have the report and when you have the estimate. Good thinking, Mr. Gruberg. There's a lot of construction material still down on that surface, and we do have more than two hundred thousand bots at the ready to manage any repairs."

  Harris leaned back in his chair. "Let's just hope it can be done."

  — Chapter 25 —

  * * *

  The first report came back that the fires were extinguished. All power that could potentially reignite the flames was rerouted or shut down. The decks were unsealed and the air flooded back into them. Within minutes, teams of bots were looking over every centimeter of the damaged area.

  Ten minutes passed before an initial assessment came in from Idiot. "Sir, the damage appears to be both critical and substantial. Two of the three wormhole generators took damage. The spare generator was completely destroyed. The power reactors for the generators are also down. One has the possibility of being repaired. I will know more shortly."

  Alex said, "Could the power be rerouted from other decks? Do we have enough if we shut down life support on all decks but this one?"

  "One moment... that would appear to be possible. I have an instructional order ready for the bots should that be our choice."

  "Let us know when you have the full assessment on the generators."

  Harris stood. "We should plan for those not being salvageable. What are our options?"

  Gandy said, "We can't leave all this tech and these bots here."

  Trish stood. "What about the shuttles? Are they capable of taking us to Earth? I'd like to at least put our parents on one with the necessary food and send them on their way."

  Alex shook his head. "The shuttles are old. They were never converted to the hop-drive tech. Without the boson field up and running, they’re stuck here."

  "Well, we can't all fit on the Bangor. Took us two loads just to get up here from the surface of Domicile. Those pods are taking up half the room in the cabin. And no, I'm not suggesting we get rid of the pods. Maybe just the one empty one."

  Harris rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "No… moving the pods over here might be our only option. If needed, Tawn and I will stay here. The rest of you will go."

  "I'll stay," said Alex.

  Harris smirked. "Not a chance. Your brain is too important to all our people."

  Gandy volunteered as he looked longingly at Sharvie. "I can stay. I will stay."

  Harris sighed as he shook his head. "No, you people are young and you have families that will need you. Idiot, give us an analysis
of the Bangor making the run to Earth with the pods removed and minus me. Make room for enough food for the journey. What's it look like?"

  "I am sorry, Harris. The Bangor is not adequate in size. You have twenty-six persons to transport. The maximum that could make that journey is eighteen. Might I make a suggestion?"

  "Please do."

  "Perhaps they should all be taken back to Domicile. I'm certain they would be allowed passage on a ship given their background and contribution to our being here."

  "Can we fit that many for a flight back there?"

  "All living beings would fit, although for some the ride may be extremely uncomfortable."

  "Maybe we just make two trips."

  "I would advise against that, sir. With each transport that leaves, the chance of a plea for passage being rejected climbs substantially. We will remove the unused pod to make room. I would advise putting Miss Freely on the first available transport as she will not require food or housing, only storage."

  "I'll take that into consideration. Let's get everyone to the ship. Idiot, have a team of bots remove the unused pod."

  The group jogged through the promenade and then the halls that led to the docking bay. The bots had the empty pod out and on the deck of the bay. Trish camped in the copilot's seat, Gandy standing just to her side and Garvis behind her. Sharvie and Alex came in behind Harris, and the others crowded the small cabin and crew quarters.

  Harris asked, "All in?"

  Trish nodded. "All in… barely."

  The hatch closed and the Bangor lifted out of the bay.

  Harris opened a comm. "Idiot, I'll be back for you and Farker. How much of your archive will fit on this ship?"

  "Less than a quarter, sir. It would require a minimum of four trips."

  "Prioritize what sections you deem most valuable. Make up a plan of action to get that and yourself onto this ship when I return. We'll make several trips if we have too. You need to be part of the cargo on those transports going out."

  Gandy asked, "And the bots?"

  "They'll have to stay here and fight it out for as long as they can. The shield of this beast should hold out for a while. The lasers might just do enough damage to slow down that fleet when it arrives. They'll be coming right past here on their way to Domicile. This will be too fat of a target to pass up. Maybe we get lucky and get an extra transport on the way because of it."

  The Bangor ran to free space and began its hops back to Domicile. Resistance was given by those boarding the transports but was soon overridden by order of the new acting President. Goodbyes were hastily said as the group was hustled off to the ship that was next to leave. As a team came to collect the pod containing Tawn, Harris held up his hand and declined its taking.

  The run was made back to Midelon, where the first set of archive storage units were collected.

  "Sir," Idiot said, "I was expecting Miss Freely to have been taken."

  "I decided she stays with me. I wouldn't want her to miss out on all the fun."

  "This presents a spatial problem, sir. The archives will now require seven trips."

  "Then we take seven trips."

  "Seven trips will place us perilously close to the arrival of the Frizoid, sir."

  Harris counted in his head. "Still gives us a two hour window. Pack us up and I'll make the runs."

  "Very well, sir."

  The runs back and forth passed quickly, with the final trip to Midelon placing the Frizoid in Human space and only an hour away.

  Harris sat in the cockpit of the Bangor as the last of the archives was being loaded. "Idiot, no chance of finalizing the repair of the wormhole generator before their arrival?"

  "My current estimate is for another five hours."

  "OK, then. You and Farker come aboard. I don't have faith these shields will hold out for that long. Any of the bots can take on running the automated weapons and calling for repairs. We'll get you on a transport so you can be reunited with that archive back on Earth. We need you."

  Harris pointed at several bots in the docking bay. "You bots, get that extra pod back in here. I might want it if this all goes south."

  Idiot said, "I am sorry, sir, but I would respectfully request you allow me to remain here."

  "What?"

  "I believe I'm the best suited bot to run the defense and repair of this station. Any time I can buy you and the other Humans is valuable time, is it not?"

  "It is, but no can grant that request. As I said, we need you."

  "Sir, any one of the half million bots on their way to Earth can easily connect to and operate the archive. My personal experiences only offer the tiniest fraction of a percent of difference when it comes to the use of that information. Here, those experiences can make a significant difference. Please, sir, allow me the honor of staying and fighting to protect you and the others. I have your leaderships skills patterned into my memories. Those will be invaluable to this station's defense."

  "All the bots have my patterns, remember? They're all based on you and you're based on me."

  "Yes, sir. But since that time, my prime directive has been to continue my study of your actions. I can assure you my patterns have changed significantly since that point of cloning."

  "So copy your patterns into another bot and let them have at it."

  "You would dishonor me so? I'll offer the words I believe you would utter should the roles be reversed. I would rather die here fighting for what I believe in than to bestow that honor on another. Please, sir, I beg you, allow this."

  Harris thought for nearly a minute, changing head positions several times as he argued with himself. "OK. You win. I guess you get your stubbornness from me too. You stay, you fight in my honor. But before I go, I want to say this... for an AI, you aren't half bad."

  "I am patterned after you, sir."

  Harris grinned. "And that's the bad half I'm talking about. Goodbye, Idiot. It's been real."

  Harris closed the hatch and then stopped, sliding it back open. "Wait, I have an idea. When the Frizoid arrive, tell them you wish to negotiate a peaceful surrender. Tell them there's been enough bloodshed and it's time to live as civilized people, as subjects of the Frizoid. Tell them I'm coming right back with the minimum terms we request. That buys us three hours, and maybe my talking can buy us a few more."

  "I believe that to be a sound plan, sir, although I would ask that you not come close enough to be made a victim of what's coming."

  "I'll keep my distance. If you didn't pick up on what I was also going for with the delay, it's that it will possibly give you time to get that generator operational and make a run for it. With a single jump, you could have them outpaced. So move yourself out to free space."

  "Interesting idea, sir. However, I believe it to be flawed. The Frizoid fleet may be too close for a wormhole to be opened."

  Harris smiled. "Then fire off a few warning shots when they first arrive. Something to make them keep their distance during the negotiation."

  "I will attempt just that, sir. And brilliant. You continue to shine, sir."

  Harris chuckled. "That, that right there. That's what I'll miss if you get yourself killed. The sarcasm. Take care, Idiot. I'll be back in four hours."

  The run back to Domicile seemed to take forever. A dozen transports were expected back within the time it would take Harris to return to Midelon. If his delay tactic worked, those transports would be filled with people and on their way before any Frizoid ship showed in Domicile space.

  The final drop on Domicile was made. After another two hour ride, the Bangor slowed as it approached Midelon. A grin covered Harris' face as the blips from seventy-eight thousand Frizoid warships showed on the nav display. Halfway between them and the planet sat Chicago Port Station. Still intact.

  A comm was opened. "Idiot, that is a spectacular sight."

  "They are growing extremely impatient, sir. I would advise you get the negotiations moving."

  "How's the generator repair coming?"


  "Ninety-eight minutes to expected completion."

  "Ninety-eight minutes... I'll see what I can do."

  A general comm was opened to the Frizoid fleet. "This is Harris Gruberg of the... uh... Human Empire. I've been authorized to negotiate our peaceful surrender. We are prepared to become willing citizens of the Frizoid Communion if these minimal conditions can be met."

  The fleet commander replied, "And if they can't be met?"

  "We have thirty thousand recently captured Crissen warships, fully intact and crewed by our people. And as you can see from your sensors, our station here is not only heavily armed, but heavily shielded with the Crissen technology. Please just hear me out. If you choose to deny my request after hearing it, what has it cost you? An hour or two?"

  "Proceed."

  "What if we could take our combined forces and perform a raid on the Burrell? A raid going deep into their territory? Certainly they have no single fleet capable of defending against what we have as allies…" Harris held up a finger and slightly bowed his head. "Wait, not allies. We would be your subjects. We just ask to be treated as your seconds and not some throwaway species. Does that sound intriguing?"

  "We're listening."

  Harris continued to spin his delay, talking for just over an hour before the commander lost his patience. A dozen cruisers advanced on the station and were quickly met with pulses from the hundreds of laser cannons that had been installed. With the initial melee going in favor of the great station, the commander ordered his fleet in for a full assault.

  "What's our time, Idiot?"

  "We've managed to bring in our schedule, sir, but we still require eight minutes for completion of the repairs."

  "Initial results from your shields?"

  "Holding. But not for long. It will be close, sir. We will do our best."

  "Would my interference emitter help?"

  "I'm afraid not, sir. We are too large a visual presence. Standard sensors are not required to target us."

  Harris watched the countdown timer on his display as the minutes ticked down to the repair. Eight minutes dropped to five, and then to three, before the station began to move under its standard drives. With the movement came a flurry of strikes from the Frizoid cannons, weakening and then collapsing a section of the shield. Explosions rocked the higher decks as the lasers began cutting through the hull and into the superstructure.