Redeemed (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Isaac Hooke

  “Bye bye, Curator,” Bambi said.

  “You’ll never let me live down the fact that you got in the killing blow, will you?” Eric asked her.

  Her avatar smiled so cutely on his HUD. “Nope.”

  17

  Eric helped Bambi, limping, to the far side of the room. Their headlamps illuminated the entrance membrane. When they passed through into the bright corridor outside, they disabled those lamps.

  On the overhead map, the team’s indicators updated. Comms were online.

  “It’s clear,” Eric said. “The Curator is offline.”

  “Good job, Scorp!” Eagleeye said.

  “It was Bambi,” Eric clarified.

  “Oh,” Eagleeye said. “My bad, Bambi. I know you’re a bad-ass.”

  “Yup,” Bambi said. Like Eric, she was too mentally exhausted by what happened to make much small talk. From the slight tremble in her voice, she probably wanted to cry more than anything else, now that it was over. Eric felt that way himself.

  Good thing he was a robot.

  “Get back in your mechs,” Marlborough ordered.

  Eric and Bambi returned to the bend, and approached their respective units. He paused beside her Crab unit, which had lowered itself to the floor to make her entry easier.

  Eric helped her inside, and her body began to fold up into a ball.

  “That’s right, ease her into the mechanical vagina,” Slate said.

  Slate’s voice never sounded so painfully grating to Eric as in that moment.

  “Dude, you have no class,” Eagleeye told Slate. “Have some respect for the two of them. It looks like they just went through hell and back.”

  “Sorry,” Slate said. “I love you guys, you know that, right?”

  Eric’s Devastator knelt before him and its cockpit hatch cracked open.

  He stared at it for long moments.

  For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. Not yet. He just wanted to stay out here, in the light, for a few moments longer.

  “What happened in there, bro?” Brontosaurus asked over the line.

  Eric shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He felt more emotional than he thought he would.

  We survived. Barely.

  He would have died in there if it weren’t for Bambi.

  His knees buckled underneath him and he crumpled to the floor.

  “Scorp!” Frogger rushed to his side and lifted Eric’s Cicada body gently from the deck with the huge hand of his mech.

  “I’m fine,” Eric lied. “My servos got a bit damaged from the fight. That and I’m operating on backup power. Just… just help me into the cockpit.”

  Frogger held him to the hatch, and Eric weakly pulled himself inside and folded himself into a ball.

  The hatch closed and the Cicada began to recharge. Eric switched his consciousness over to that of the Devastator and stood to his full height in the corridor. Though the servomotors of his mech were operating at full power now, he still felt weak.

  “You good?” Frogger asked.

  Eric nodded. He wasn’t, but he would be, given time.

  Mentally exhausted was an understatement.

  “Slate, escort Manticore inside,” Marlborough ordered.

  Slate and Manticore approached the opening. Slate paused at the entrance, and stared at the darkness beyond.

  “You sure it’s clear?” Slate asked suspiciously.

  “Go inside,” Marlborough said.

  Slate hesitated a moment longer, then entered. Manticore followed with his revolving drones.

  A moment later the darkness lifted, and Eric could see the room clearly inside. He spotted the pile of micro machines in the far corner.

  The indicators for Slate and Manticore appeared on the overhead map as Manticore disabled whatever signal damping was emanating from the compartment. Slate was standing next to the deactivated termites.

  “You dudes beat that in mere Cicadas?” Slate asked. “Nice! You’re my idol Bambi.”

  “I want everyone inside,” Marlborough said. “That compartment offers a better defensive position than out here.”

  Eric followed the other Bolt Eaters into the chamber, which was easily big enough to fit them all. Brontosaurus and Crusher loitered just within the entrance, watching both sides of the passageway that led to the compartment. Brontosaurus looked like a kid next to Crusher’s Devastator, considering he had lost his mech and only had his Cicada body.

  Past the disabled termites, on the far side of the room there was a small passageway leading to another compartment, which Manticore had entered. Probably the control room proper. Eric suspected that the passage to that room had been coated in another energy membrane, one that Manticore had deactivated to enter.

  Marlborough ducked his head and advanced through the corridor to the control room, followed by Dickson.

  “Only three mechs can fit in here,” Marlborough said. “The rest of you wait outside.”

  Eric lingered next to the opening along with the other mechs. The mechs of Marlborough and Dickson blocked out much of the control room beyond, but he could still partially see Manticore; Eric watched the two alien scouts with him land on hexagonal-shaped pedestals. The units interfaced with the pedestals via the usual telescoping limbs.

  And then, nothing.

  Slate shifted restlessly after a few minutes. As did Eagleeye.

  “Think I’ll join you.” Slate marched to the entrance, and slid one of his energy weapons past Brontosaurus and Crusher.

  “Feel better now, big guy?” Crusher asked him.

  “No,” Slate said. “But I’d feel better if you sucked my—”

  Eric heard a loud clang, and glancing over his shoulder, he saw Slate was lying flat on his back on the deck. He rubbed his groin section.

  “That was uncalled for,” Slate said, rising.

  Crusher’s avatar flashed a mocking smile on Eric’s HUD. “Actually, it was entirely called for.”

  “What do you think about that?” Slate said, turning toward Eric. “One of your girlfriends flat out attacks me for no damn reason whatsoever.”

  “I actually approve,” Eric said. He was feeling better already. “Saves me the trouble of having to do it myself.”

  The smile on Crusher’s avatar widened, becoming one of adoration.

  “Pussy-whipped little bitch,” Slate muttered. “Remind me to order you some fresh soy.”

  “You do that,” Eric said.

  Slate stalked toward the doorway; Crusher turned completely away from the entrance and stood in his path as if to block him.

  Slate halted in place, seeming indecisive. Eric was ready to intervene if things went south, not that Crusher would really need any help. It just seemed the right thing to do.

  But then Slate shook his head, and retreated, returning to sulk beside Eagleeye.

  “Like a dog with its tail between its legs,” Mickey said.

  Slate spun aggressively toward Mickey. “Shut it!”

  The minutes ticked passed.

  “It’s done,” Manticore finally announced. “The mothership is in our control.”

  “Well, that’s a load off our backs,” Mickey said.

  “What’s that, you’re gonna blow a load on Eagleeye’s back?” Slate said.

  “No, on yours,” Mickey quipped.

  “In your dreams,” Slate said.

  “Every night,” Mickey commented.

  “So wait, you say we have control of the mothership,” Dunnigan said. “Does that include all the airships and troops aboard?”

  “I was able to overwrite the Essential instances of all the airships with custom versions, yes,” Manticore said. “Because they’re wired to the main AI while docked. I also have the termites aboard those machines under control, as well as the micro machines enveloping the mothership. I also have quite a few of the ordinary, larger machines under my control, but not all of them. Those that were roaming free when I took charge still have minds of t
heir own. I’ve instructed the units under my command to seek out those that aren’t… there will still be sporadic fighting aboard for some time.”

  “What about the machines and airships on Earth?” Frogger asked. “And the bioweapons? Do you have them, too?”

  “No, those still have their own Essential instances,” Manticore replied. “I haven’t been able to crack the wireless protocol yet. They fight the humans yet.”

  “And the different termite swarms on Earth?” Frogger pressed.

  “Same situation,” Manticore said.

  “Then how did you get the termites aboard on your side?” Frogger said. “They’re just as ‘wireless’ as the ones on Earth, I would think.”

  “They’re actually in storage bays on the airships,” Manticore said. “So I was able to send instructions on a wired connection. And in regards to the micro machines enclosing the mothership, they’re all in contact with the hull, again allowing me to send wired overrides.”

  “Nicely done, Manticore,” Marlborough said. “When you told us you could take over the mothership, I have to admit, I didn’t really believe you. But now that I’ve seen you do it in the flesh, as it were, I am thoroughly impressed.”

  “When you’ve digested the memories of as many Essential instances as I have, hacking their AIs becomes second nature,” Manticore said.

  “I think you need to teach the rest of us these hacking skills,” Slate said.

  “Why, so that you don’t need me anymore?” Manticore said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah well, that’s the thing, we need you,” Slate said. “And yet you’re planning to betray us at some point. You haven’t yet, and I’m not sure why, but you will.”

  To that, Manticore simply nodded his mechanical head.

  Dunnigan sat his mech cross-legged on the deck. “So. We’ve saved Earth then. Sort of. Discounting the pockets of alien fighters still engaged on the surface below.”

  “Yes, but we’ve stopped the aliens from dispatching any reinforcements from this ship,” Marlborough said. “So yes, we have effectively saved Earth. At least for the moment. But I believe it’s time we made that saving permanent.”

  “How so?” Frogger asked.

  “We go back down, help free the cities one by one?” Brontosaurus asked.

  “That’s one way,” Marlborough replied. “But it’s also the hard way. We have another option.”

  “We use the airships aboard against the enemy units below?” Dunnigan asked.

  “Again, another way, but not quite what I had in mind,” Marlborough said. He glanced at Manticore, who nodded as if he knew precisely what the Sarge wanted.

  “We take the mothership to the homeworld,” Manticore said. “And use it against the Banthar, like Scorpion already suggested.”

  “Can we actually do that?” Dickson asked.

  “I know how to pilot every part of this ship,” Manticore replied. “From the inertialess drives, to the rift generators. We can definitely do that.”

  “But what I mean is, will this ship last against the Banthar defenses?” Dickson pressed. “Or will we be shot out of orbit an hour after we arrive.”

  “The element of surprise will be on our side,” Manticore said. “The Essential in charge of the homeworld doesn’t know that we’ve taken over the mothership. How can it? We’re hundreds of light years away.”

  “How can you be certain?” Frogger said. “Isn’t it possible the Essential created a wormhole like the one the mothership used to get here? And dispatched some sort of communications satellite through it back to the homeworld?”

  “I checked the rift formation logs,” Manticore said. “And yes, a communiqué was dispatched to the homeworld soon after we boarded, via a comm probe. It stated that the mothership was under attack by a boarding party. I plan to dispatch a follow-up probe, informing the main AI that the boarding party has been repelled, so that when we do arrive, we’ll catch the main Essential by surprise. We’ll take out the defense platforms as soon as we appear in orbit, along with any rift creation rings, cutting off communications with the rest of the galaxy. By the time any reinforcements arrive to check on them, the planet will be ours, the Banthar our slaves.”

  “Teehee!” Slate said. “Gonna squash me some snails! Gonna dine me on some escargot!”

  “Stop with the snail references already,” Eagleeye said. “You can’t even eat. Have you taken a look at yourself lately?’

  “Bitch, I’ll ship one of our humanoid androids to the planet,” Slate said. “You know, the sort that can eat? The anatomically correct kind.”

  “Anatomically correct?” Mickey said. “What, you’re planning on using your sex organs down there?”

  “You got it,” Slate said. “Every snail in sight is going to become my bitch. Mark my words.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know about you, Slate,” Dunnigan said. “Either you’re a genius or a madman. I’m leaning toward the latter.”

  “Oh, but what a madman I am!” Slate giggled. “When I’m done with the snails, you’re next on my list!”

  “So this explains why Manticore hasn’t turned on us yet,” Frogger said. “He feels that we’re not yet done here.”

  Manticore didn’t reply to that.

  Dunnigan glanced through the passageway at Manticore, and switched to a private line that excluded the former Bolt Eater. “How much can we really trust him, mates? Because I for one can’t really understand why he still needs us. He’s in charge of the whole ship at this point. And half the robot crew, if he’s to be believed. He could have them attack us at any time, and blame it on rogue units. Once we’re out of the way, he can do what he wants.”

  “I can explain why he won’t do that,” Eric said. “If Marlborough will give me permission.”

  “Go ahead,” Marlborough said.

  “I wrapped a small explosive sheath around Manticore’s AI core before installing it into the Cicada we loaned him,” Eric said. “That sheath can’t be removed without the proper codes, so even though Manticore knew about it as soon as he opened his eyes, there was nothing he could do but grudgingly board the Devastator we provided him with. Besides myself, Dickson and Marlborough have the codes to the sheath. Any of us can detonate it at any time. And end Manticore.”

  “Well, how’s that for leverage,” Slate said. “It explains a lot of things.”

  “It certainly does,” Frogger said.

  “Switch back to the main band,” Marlborough ordered.

  “Are we really going to do this, Sarge?” Brontosaurus asked over the requested band, so that Manticore was included again.

  “I plan to, yes,” Marlborough said.

  “You mentioned that returning to Earth and fighting the aliens one city at a time was the hard way,” Brontosaurus continued. “But traveling to their homeworld and performing a reverse invasion is supposed to be the easy way? Seems like the harder path to me.”

  “Perhaps, but the more fruitful in the end,” Marlborough insisted.

  “What about the Earth?” Mickey asked. “We’re just going to abandon the humans to their fate?”

  “They’re well-equipped to handle the invasion force on their own, using the technique we shared to deal with the termites,” Marlborough responded. “That said, I’m willing to lend an airship to those of you who want to stay and help. Take it back to Earth, and do whatever you want when you arrive.”

  “I’m going with you,” Eric said.

  “As am I,” Bambi chimed in.

  “Well if you two are going, of course I am,” Crusher said.

  The rest of the team similarly volunteered.

  All except Dunnigan.

  Marlborough looked at the English mech. “So?”

  Dunnigan sighed. “I wanted to go back to Earth. Wanted to kick some alien ass. But how can I refuse the chance to travel to the source? We have a chance to dam the headwaters.”

  “Dam the headwaters,” Slate said. “I like that. I think I can make a rap so
ng out of it. Dam the headwaters. Fight the power. Dam the headwaters. Kick some ass.”

  “Yeah, okay, stop with the ridiculous rapping,” Eagleeye said.

  “Shut up, leaf-wiper,” Slate said. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “What’s a leaf-wiper?” Mickey asked.

  “He wipes his ass with leaves,” Slate explained.

  “Hey, at least I’m environmentally friendly,” Eagleeye quipped.

  “Mickey, work with Manticore to send a message to Earth,” Marlborough instructed. “Let Arnold know the mothership is the property of the Bolt Eaters now.”

  “I don’t think Arnold is going to be very happy when he hears that,” Frogger said.

  “Probably not,” Marlborough said. “But what did he really expect would happen once we took over the ship? That we’d just give it to the army to do with as they pleased? Especially after he created a whole company of clones based off my mind backup, without my friggin’ permission?”

  “Oh Sarge, I love it when you swear!” Slate said.

  “You ain’t heard me swear yet,” Marlborough stated.

  18

  Eric and the others decided to pass their free time in VR while Manticore prepared the ship for the passage through the jump rift. Apparently, for the traversal, all of the external space termites had to be withdrawn into the ship, which could take up to an hour. If humanity decided to launch some nukes at the mothership while there weren’t enough termites available to detonate the warheads early, Manticore would simply employ the wormhole generators that lined the hull to teleport the weapons to a preprogrammed junk planet.

  So, VR. It was a chance to celebrate their first victory over the aliens, and to relax a little before the second phase of the plan.

  Eric lounged shirtless on a reclining beach chair underneath an umbrella. On the table beside him was a mojito with a long yellow straw and a miniature umbrella protruding. Waves lapped against the shoreline of the white sand beach. Scantily clad men and women occasionally walked past, all perfect specimens of humanity. Some of the women were topless—a prerequisite of a beach program designed by Slate. It was certainly a great VR environment for people watching.