by Isaac Hooke
Eric continued shooting into the floor. “Fire into the floor of the hallway outside… distract the remaining tangos!”
“On it!” Bambi said, vanishing outside.
“I’ll help her,” Brontosaurus transmitted.
As the hole beneath Eric enlarged, plasma bolts began to fly upward in turn from the enemy units and streaked past him to hit the ceiling. Eric pulled back, but didn’t let up his own attack.
He glanced at his map, and saw that the entire team had reached the room next door save for Hicks and Marlborough.
“Sarge, Hicks, where are you?” Eric said.
“On our way,” Marlborough said.
As Eric watched, Hicks’ indicator vaulted through the hole in the neighboring room in a single leap, followed by Marlborough.
Eric backed away from the streaks of plasma fire erupting from the floor in front of him, and retreated to the main entrance. He joined Bambi and the others in the hallway. They gave a wide berth to the holes Bambi and Brontosaurus had carved into the floor; plasma bolts intermittently streaked past from those openings.
So far, the hallway was clear on both sides. But there were stairwell entrances at either end where enemy troops could emerge. The fire escape was visible beyond the glass door next to the stairwell on the far right, labeled: “Emergency exit. Do not open. Alarm will sound.”
“You guys have to get to the fire escape,” Eric said.
“What about Eagleeye?” Slate said. The drone operator wore a shirt with a fire-breathing dragon painted on it; he had more dragons tattooed onto his bulging, dark-skinned arms, though they were difficult to see with the current layer of plaster coating him. His synthetic hair was shaped into a black mohawk, currently grayish from the plaster dust. “We can’t leave him.”
“I’ll check his suite,” Eric said. “The rest of you, get out of here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Frogger said. He had the same features as Eric, except he wore his hair in a buzz cut, and had modded his android’s face to support a goatee.
“No,” Eric told his clone. “One of us has to survive. And you already died a few times, in case you forgot.”
“Can’t forget something like that.” Frogger patted him on the shoulder. There was no clang—the androids were covered in synthetic skin that approximated the softness of real humans.
“Good luck, Scorpion,” Marlborough said, using Eric’s callsign from his Bolt Eater days. Marlborough wore a grizzled beard, and had wrinkles on the skin of his android’s face. He could have fashioned his appearance to be far more youthful, but he preferred the “refinement” that came with aged features.
Wishing Eric luck was the Sarge’s way of approving his request to check Eagleeye’s suite. Well, Eric had spoken the words as more of an order than a request, but Marlborough could have still overruled him if he desired, and the entire team, including Eric, would have listened. While technically Marlborough wasn’t their Sarge anymore, they all still thought of him as such, and respected his leadership.
The team hurried toward the fire escape. Intending to divert into the stairwell next to it, Eric went with them.
Behind them, enemy troops began to pour from the farther stairwell.
Slate opened fire from the rear. He took down every unit that appeared before it could fire at them. But he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long, Eric knew. Especially when they started firing from beyond the edges of the opening.
They reached the fire escape. Dickson crashed right through the door without opening it. Like Marlborough, he preferred an older appearance. The cigar he always kept chomped between his lips broke thanks to the shattering glass.
Eric turned toward the adjacent stairwell door while the rest of the team took the fire escape.
“I want you out of here as soon as possible,” Marlborough told him. “My guess is Eagleeye already evacuated the building a long time ago! So if he isn’t there, leave!”
“Will do,” Eric said. He kicked open the stairwell door and started down the first cement flight.
But then Brontosaurus squeezed in at his side. “Buddy system.” He had modded his chest and biceps to be the biggest among them. He also had a goatee, and a buzz cut.
“Make that double buddy system,” Bambi said from behind him.
“Triple,” Crusher said from behind her.
Eric glanced at his map, and confirmed that the rest of the team was heading onto the fire escape.
As he reached the bottom of the flight and rounded the bend toward the next one, he glanced at Crusher.
She wore her usual pink bandanna with big, yellow, rifle-toting happy faces on it. A similar happy face decorated her tight, pink, short-sleeved shirt.
“Thank you,” he told his other girlfriend.
“No problem,” Crusher said. “But did you actually think I was going to miss out on kicking some robot ass? Now, let’s find Eagleeye.”
3
Eric led the charge down the zig-zagging flights of stairs. He took the steps four at a time, handling them quite nimbly thanks to his android body. Eagleeye was located on the fourth floor.
As he rounded the flight that led down to the fifth level, the stairwell door below burst open and two black combat robots stepped into view.
The robots seemed just as surprised to find Eric as he was to see them; he switched to Bullet Time and raised his rifle as fast as he could. The robots were trying to target him, too, so he leaped to the side.
He lined up the first, but couldn’t get a solid shot on the center of the chest, where the AI core was located; he decided to squeeze the trigger anyway because the opponent’s rifle was fast lining up with him.
The plasma bolt tore a gap through the side of the robot; a return plasma bolt ripped past his shoulder, narrowly missing.
Three more shots released from behind Eric, courtesy of Brontosaurus, Bambi and Crusher. One of those bolts smashed into the first robot’s torso, while the other two hit the second robot, who also managed to get off a shot.
Eric rammed into the concrete wall beside him, and bounced off; he positioned his legs so that he landed on his feet, and then reverted to normal time.
The two robots dropped like rag dolls.
“Everyone all right?” Eric asked. He glanced at his HUD, answering his own question when he saw their stats all in the green: he’d modified the health indicators that were designed for the war machines they once inhabited to work with the new android bodies.
“Why would they be on this floor?” Crusher said. “Instead of the fourth?”
“Either Eagleeye shot a hole through the ceiling to move up a level,” Eric said. “Or the robots were trying the same tactic we used on them upstairs.”
He approached the doorway and opened it a crack to peer past. He spotted five black robots camped out in front of the apartment suite that would have been located directly above Eagleeye’s.
Two of those robots broke away and dashed toward his position as he watched. They fired plasmas at the stairwell door, and he ducked back. The bolts slammed into the door, turning two circular sections white hot.
“They realized their two friends here went down,” Eric said.
“Open the door for me,” Brontosaurus said. He squeezed in beside Eric and dropped to the concrete floor.
Eric kicked the long metal access bar, opening the way for Brontosaurus to fire. The heavy gunner did so. He released five shots in rapid succession, obviously operating in Bullet Time.
Brontosaurus rolled aside as a plasma bolt came at him in return.
The door swung closed before more plasma bolts could impact.
“Got four of ’em,” Brontosaurus said. “Missed one.”
Eric heard a thud as the stairwell door on the floor below kicked open.
“We’ll hold them off,” Bambi said, aiming down the stairs. “Get Eagleeye.”
Eric kicked open the door again and switched to Bullet Time.
While Brontosaurus went low,
firing from the floor, Eric went high, aiming his rifle at the door above Eagleeye’s suite, where the wreckages of the four robots Brontosaurus had taken out resided.
He spotted the muzzle of a rifle protruding from the doorframe of the apartment, where the fifth robot had fled. Eric fired, along with Brontosaurus, but the muzzle promptly vanished inside.
A moment later a black robot toppled over, falling into view, its back smoking.
Eagleeye peered from the entrance. “About time,” he shouted. He wore a T-shirt that depicted the head of a mean looking black bird. It matched the ravens tattooed onto his bulging arms.
Eric glanced askance. “Bambi, Crusher, let’s go!”
He entered the hallway with Brontosaurus, and the two girls followed on the rear, firing into the stairwell as the door closed of its own accord behind them.
After it slammed shut, the four of them fled down the hall toward Eagleeye.
The door burst open behind them, and they were forced to dive inside the suite as plasma bolts erupted from the stairwell.
The single bedroom apartment was similar in layout to most of the other suites. There was a gaping hole in the floor to the balcony window. Two smoldering black robots lay in front of it.
“They tried to follow me up,” Eagleeye said. “Didn’t work out so well for them.”
Bambi and Crusher were firing from the front door, and out into the hallway.
“There’s too many of them!” Bambi said. “We’re pinned.”
“Nope,” Eagleeye said. “Already opened up another scuttle for myself.” He gestured toward the ceiling, where a plasma rifle had drilled a small hole big enough to fit an android.
He fired toward the opening in the floor as another robot head appeared, and then he leaped up. His android strength carried him right through the opening.
Eric and the others followed in turn.
Eagleeye had already opened the front door, and was peering outside. “It’s clear. For now.”
“We have to get to the fire escape,” Eric said. “The others are waiting for us.”
“Screw that,” Eagleeye said. “Look what I got.” He lifted up his T-shirt, revealing a waist harness. Protruding from the different pockets were demolition blocks individually wrapped in Mylar film.
“So?” Eric said.
“Whaddaya mean, so?” Eagleeye said. “We’re going to teach these robot dudes they can’t do shit like this without paying a stiff price. No one attacks the Bolt Eaters.”
“Okay, so what’s your plan then, big guy?” Brontosaurus asked in a dubious tone.
“I watched the streaming networks,” Eagleeye replied. “These bastards came in on some sort of transport. We’re going to blow it up, sending a message to our would-be assassins that they can go procreate with themselves.”
“I saw the transport,” Eric said. “I’m telling you, getting close isn’t going to be easy. It’s surrounded by combat robots like the ones we just took down. Then there are the weapon turrets, jutting from the craft on all sides. We’ll be mowed down, reduced to spare parts before we even get close.”
“It’s not our job,” Bambi chimed in. “Leave it to the police.”
“I agree,” Crusher said. “We’ve risked our lives enough for one day. The police can handle this.”
“The police?” Eagleeye said incredulously. “Haven’t you watched the live streams? The police drones are being shot down in droves. SWAT robots on nearby rooftops are reduced to rubble as soon as they attempt to fire. In the streets, the police vehicles are bombarded with so much plasma fire that the combat robots can’t even leave cover to return fire.”
“There you go,” Eric said. “Given all that, what makes you think we’ll do any better?”
“Because we’re Bolt Eaters, goddammit,” Eagleeye said. “That used to mean something...”
“Twenty years ago, maybe,” Brontosaurus said.
Eagleeye shook his head. “What happened to the brothers and sisters I knew?”
Eric and the others didn’t have anything to say to that.
“You’ve grown soft over the years,” Eagleeye said. “Too comfortable in these android shells of ours. Don’t you want to make a difference again? Don’t you want to fight?”
Still, Eric and the others remained silent.
“Fine, I’ll do it myself.” Eagleeye opened the door entirely and dashed into the hall.
“Shit,” Eric said. “This is a bad idea.”
Eric started out the door, but Crusher grabbed him by the elbow. “You’re not actually going to help him, are you?”
“I have to,” Eric said. “He’s my brother. And protecting him overrides any sense of self-preservation I might have left.”
He jerked free of Crusher’s grasp and headed out. He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t come with me.”
“Too late,” Bambi said. Crusher was at her side, and Brontosaurus bringing up the rear behind them.
“Great,” Eric said. “Well at least we get to die together.”
“Like I’ve always dreamed,” Bambi said sarcastically.
“Till death do us part,” Crusher added slyly.
“Hey, I’m not married to any of you,” Brontosaurus said.
“We’re not married either,” Crusher said. “Polygamy is still illegal. Even among androids. But it sounded funny at the time.”
Eric reached Eagleeye. The drone operator met his eye and nodded in appreciation.
“I won’t forget this.”
“You probably will,” Eric said. “Considering...”
Eagleeye flashed his teeth. “I have no intention of dying.”
Rifle in hand, Eagleeye reached the stairwell, opened it, and led the way inside.
The group made their way upstairs very quickly, and very quietly. That was one positive of android bodies over pure robotics—since the androids more closely mimicked human bodies, they were usually far stealthier. Especially with the padded boots that Eric and the others wore. Then again, combat robots could affix similar pads underneath their feet, and apply active noise canceling units to their servomotors.
Eric heard the muted thumping of metal feet on a rug, and then the door leading to the flight just upstairs slammed open. He and the others tensed: Eagleeye visibly stiffening in front of him. They all kept their weapons aimed at the bottom portion of the flight above them, waiting for the robots to appear.
But no robots came... in fact, the footsteps receded.
The robots were climbing higher.
Eric exhaled in relief—it was an action induced by his autonomous nervous system subroutines, since he didn’t breathe actual air.
Eagleeye continued the ascent, and Eric followed.
“Remember that movie I watched with you guys one time?” Eric said over the comm system, so that no actual words sounded in the stairwell. “Aliens?”
“Yeah, that was one of many you forced us to watch,” Bambi said over the same comm band.
“Well, I feel like we’re climbing into the Xenomorph’s lair or something,” Eric said.
“But these are robots, not aliens,” Bambi said.
“True,” Eric said. “But we’re surrounded by them on all sides, so the feeling is similar. At least for me.”
“Xeno-what?” Eagleeye said.
“Never mind,” Crusher said. “You should have joined us on movie nights.”
“No thanks,” Eagleeye said. “Me and classic movies, we make bad bed mates.”
They reached the top floor without issue. Eagleeye continued the ascent, turning the bend to take the final two flights to the rooftop.
“Careful,” Brontosaurus transmitted. “They’ll be guarding the stairwells, wary of police attacks.”
“I’m sure they will be,” Eagleeye said.
“You’d think the police would have penetrated by now,” Crusher said.
“Not with the black drones the attackers have in place at the bottom of the building,” Eagleeye said. “Those thing
s are small but nasty. Zig-zagging in random patterns, firing their plasma turrets. Check out the live streams.”
“You and your live streams,” Bambi said.
“Hey, best way to get news,” Eagleeye said.
As Eagleeye neared the bend of the first flight, Eric had an idea. “Stop.”
Eagleeye paused to glance over his shoulder. He transmitted: “Don’t tell me you’re having a change of heart.”
“Not a change of heart,” Eric replied. “A change of plan. We don’t need to access the rooftop terrace.”
And he explained his idea.
“That will probably work, actually,” Eagleeye said. He directed his hand down the stairs. “Lead the way.”
4
Eric hurried down the steps and went to the door. He opened it slightly and peered into the hallway. The area seemed completely deserted.
“It’s empty,” Eric transmitted.
“A mistake on their part,” Brontosaurus said. “And a gift on ours.”
Eric had recorded the position of the transport from the outside of the building, and he made his way to the apartment suite that sat directly underneath it, by his calculations.
Brontosaurus and the others watched both sides while Eric hacked the remote locking mechanism. He’d cracked the locking code within weeks of originally moving into the apartment building twenty years ago. At first he’d used it to play tricks on the other team members, for example locking out Slate on Friday nights when the buff android returned home with girls from his clubbing sessions, or preventing Eagleeye from receiving a shipment of spare parts for his latest sniper rifle project, but eventually the novelty wore thin, and he stashed the code away, rarely accessing it again.
Until now.
When the mechanism unlocked, he silently opened the door a crack. He shoved his rifle into the opening, and switched his viewpoint to the scope. He panned from left to right.
“Clear,” he transmitted. “And the blinds are closed on the balcony window.”