Strange New Worlds

by Kevin McLaughlin

  “Yes, sir,” Harris said. “Small holes, but it cut through.”

  The man was shaken up but didn’t seem to have suffered any significant side effects. Was the bug only chomping down on inorganic matter? Or would the nanites make short work of people too? He clicked his radio over to a private channel with Colonel Foster.

  “What’s up, Colonel?” Charline asked.

  “I got your bug,” Martelle replied. He fired a third round into it, just to make sure it was really dead. It didn’t move, didn’t respond at all. Whatever was keeping it going and directing the action of the nanites must have been damaged by one of his hits. But Foster was right. It was damned hard to kill.

  “Anyone exposed to the nanites?” Charline asked.

  “One man.” Martelle looked over at Harris, who still seemed to be OK. For now, anyway.

  “Send him into the lab. I was exposed, too. Linda and I are working on a solution,” Charline said.

  “You think there’s still a danger?” Martelle asked.

  “You saw what those nanites can do. Do you want to take chances? I sure don’t,” Charline replied.

  “Point taken. I’ll bring him in,” Martelle said. He switched back to his squad radio channel. “Harris, you’re with me. The eggheads inside are going to make sure your face doesn’t melt off. The rest of you, pull security around the lab. Radio if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  Harris followed him in. The man paled a bit when Martelle mentioned his face melting off, but to his credit, he kept it together. They went through the airlock, letting it cycle, but Martelle shut off the disinfectant process. No point to it now. The lab was open to the outside air. Everything inside was contaminated at this point. If there was anything in the air worth worrying about, they already had at least three people exposed.

  He opened the door to the lab and stepped inside. The place was a mess. Glass was scattered all over the floor, and one of the lab tables was tipped over, spilling everything that had been on top of it in a heap. Paris and Foster worked over the other counter, both of them tinkering with some sort of contraption there.

  “That your guy?” Foster asked, looking up as Martelle and Harris entered.

  “That’s him,” Martelle replied. “Corporal Harris.”

  “Corporal, come here to me. Linda, you and the Colonel need to head back out of the room. Just in case,” Charline said.

  Harris took a step toward the machine, then looked back at Martelle, who just nodded and shooed him forward with a hand motion. The soldier seemed to recall Martelle’s comments about his face melting and hurried over to stand next to Colonel Foster.

  “Just a big magnet,” Charline said, patting the corporal on the arm. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “A massive, highly improvised magnet,” Linda said. “I wish you’d let me test first.”

  “No time,” Charline said. She held up her hands. They were both red and raw-looking. “The nanites are already adapting to consume organic material.”

  Linda paled. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “There wasn’t a point. Now go,” Charline said.

  Dr. Paris stepped back to the door with Martelle. Both of them exited the room as quickly as they could and then sealed it up behind them. Martelle had left his helmet on for the entire thing, but Linda Paris was exposed to any pathogens that might exist. “You sure none of those nanites got on you?”

  She shook her head. “I was too far away. Behind Charline.”

  Martelle nodded in reply. “Well, I hope this works.”

  “Me, too,” Linda said.

  A sound like a dull whine came from the other side of the door, something like what you’d hear for an old-fashioned camera flash warming up, only much louder. The noise grew in pitch and intensity. Then there was a sharp crack! After that, no sounds at all came from the lab.

  “Foster, you all right in there?” Martelle asked over his radio. There was no response.

  He rushed to the door. If anything had gone wrong inside, they might need help. But even as his hands fell on the handle, the door opened up. Foster stood there, Harris beside her.

  “You all right?” Martelle repeated.

  “Fine, Colonel. We’re both OK. The magnetics fried most of the circuitry in the lab, along with whatever nanites were still hanging around. It took out our radios in the process,” Charline said.

  Martelle flashed her a grin. “You’re a handy person to have around. Keep your head in a fight, and you can come up with cool gadgets, too. Ever think about becoming a Marine?”

  Charline made a face. “Nope. I’ve heard too many war stories.”

  “From who?” Martelle asked, mock-shocked.

  “You,” Charline replied with a smile, poking him in the chest to punctuate the word.

  Then the ground shook under their feet, rattling the entire lab unit and everything inside it. It felt like the land itself was buckling and heaving. They all grabbed onto something to remain on their feet. The shaking subsided, then started again.

  “Now what?” Martelle said. Staggering across the room, he went to the door, so he could get a look at what was happening outside.

  Nineteen

  “Holy shit,” Beth breathed.

  She backed up against the wall as a metal monstrosity crawled through the open hatch. It had to be a robot or drone of some sort. There couldn’t possibly be someone inside it, could there? It wasn’t big enough to contain much. Its four legs stretched to about the size of a small dining room table, but the body in the middle was nowhere near big enough for even a human child. Each leg clamped itself to the hull as the thing walked into the hall, enabling it to walk even in the microgravity just like her own magnetic boots.

  “What is it?” Ayala asked.

  “No idea,” Beth replied. “Nobody make sudden moves. I don’t know if it’s interested in us.”

  The robot didn’t seem to take notice of her at all. It just walked past, then turned and faced the wall section where she’d removed a plate and damaged the wiring. It went right to the hole. Smaller arms descended from the front of the ‘bot. They reached out toward the damage and went to work. Beth saw shimmers and little lights flash. More nanites, from the look of it.

  “This might be our best chance,” Beth said.

  “Chance at what?” Ayala replied.

  “To get in there,” Beth said, pointing at the open hatch. Once the robot was done working, it would probably go back wherever it came from, and the door would likely shut behind it. They’d be cut off from the inner workings of the ship again.

  “You’re joking,” Ayala said. Then he sighed. “No, of course you’re not.”

  Beth chuckled under her breath. “You’re getting to know me so well! There’s a mystery afoot in this place. I intend to learn more about it.”

  She took a tentative step toward the open hatch. The robot continued to ignore her movements, even after she walked right up to the doorway. Steeling herself to run if it reacted, Beth took one step over the threshold then followed with the other leg as well. She was through! The robot continued its work. It was printing a new bulkhead panel right in place. No wonder there were so few seams in this place! The metal was grown right there.

  “Come on,” Beth said. She beckoned the rest of her team in. They followed, Ayala bringing up the rear. He kept a close eye on the robot as the others passed through the doorway. But when it continued to ignore them, he shrugged and followed Beth.

  The space beyond the doorway was another corridor just like the last. This one ran perpendicular to the other. Beth couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one direction led deeper into the hull while the other went toward the outer edge. She eyed the deeper course. That was where she’d find answers.

  Vibrations from behind her alerted her to the robot’s movement. Beth whirled in place, her rifle automatically coming up, but the robot wasn’t attacking. It walked right past them again, all her crew moving carefully out of its way to allow it t
o pass. As she’d expected, the hatch slid closed after the robot was through.

  They were past it, but they were also going to have an interesting time getting back out again.

  “We should call the ship,” Ayala said, clearly thinking the same thing.

  She opened a com channel to the ship. “Satori, come in.”

  “Here, Beth. I was just about to call you,” Majel said.

  “Why? What’s up?” Beth asked. The skin at the back of her neck prickled.

  “Two fighters from the Inde are nearby. They’re under attack by some sort of projectiles fired from the alien planetoid,” Majel said. “Worse, we’re clearly being jammed. I can’t reach the fighters by radio, nor can I contact the Independence.”

  That screamed enemy action. But if that was the case, why had the planetoid allowed the Satori to get so close? Why did the robot ignore her and her crew? The actions seemed unpredictable and inconsistent, two things which machines very rarely were — if they were operating correctly.

  On the other hand, this planetoid, ship, or whatever it was had been heavily damaged. Catastrophically damaged; any smaller or less well-build vessel would have been obliterated from the impact this one had survived. But while the ship had survived, they hadn’t found any living crew, just robots. Automated systems might still be kicking out the best responses their damaged computers could manage, long after the beings who programmed those machines were gone. Was this a ghost ship, the only activity machines lingering on after the living had died?

  The thought was exciting. Think of what they might learn from this level of technology! But they had to survive it if they were going to take advantage of it.

  “Understood. Can you assist the fighters?” Beth asked.

  “I’ve already directed them to change their flight path so that we can help,” Majel replied smoothly.

  Beth was confused. “I thought they were jamming radar?”

  “One of the pilots was intelligent enough to think of using his targeting laser to signal at me in Morse code,” Majel said. “I’ve responded in kind, and they are changing course. I should be able to fire railguns on their pursuers in just under two minutes. But I need your permission to fire.”

  Sure, she did. Beth privately suspected Majel could co-opt all the Satori’s systems any time she wanted. That the AI was willing to follow the chain of command so well was a relief, but it would be a mistake to consider her helpless. Unlike the machines of this planet-ship, she was fully capable of thinking through her own solutions.

  If she fired on the projectiles, the alien ship might register the Satori as hostile. That was the only fly in this ointment. “Is the ship ready to jump away if needed?” Beth asked.

  “Affirmative. We have a full charge on the wormhole drive, but I don’t want to leave you behind if I can avoid it. Can you return to the ship?” Majel asked.

  Beth eyed the closed doorway. “Not at this time, no.”

  “Are you in danger? I can send more crew…”

  “No, we’re OK. Just temporarily cut off,” Beth said. She figured if worst came to worst, she could get a robot out here to make repairs again. Trick it into opening the hatch, and they’d be home free. “You’re clear to take offensive action as needed, Majel. Just be careful!”

  “Always. You too,” Majel replied. “Satori out.”

  Ayala shot her a questioning look. “Are we staying?”

  “For the moment, we’re probably safer here than trying to make it back to the ship,” Beth said. “If she has to jump out, we don’t want to get caught in the wormhole.”

  The destructive power of the wormhole drive was absolute. It would rip through deck plates, tearing apart the atoms of anything in its way. You didn’t want to be in the line of fire if the Satori happened to be facing the wrong way when she fired up the drive!

  “Deeper, then?” Ayala asked.

  “I think that sounds best. Let’s try to figure this puzzle out. Maybe we can find some sort of control center and take the heat off the Satori,” Beth said.

  “Bravo team, with me. We’ll take point,” Ayala said.

  Beth decided not to protest his overprotective nature just then. They were in a dangerous place, and these soldiers had almost as much experience as she did dealing with the unknown, plus a lot more experience fighting. With luck, they wouldn’t need to do battle in this place. The nanites flowing through the walls would make that a deadly game. But if they did, she had good people backing her up.

  Twenty

  Rodriguez sucked in breaths of air through his mask. Each inhalation hurt; the acceleration made it difficult to breathe. But the pain was a reminder that he was still alive. For the moment, at least. That was something.

  The fighter was feeding him breaths of pure oxygen; otherwise, he figured he would’ve passed out long ago. The heading Majel directed them to take had required both pilots to dump most of their existing velocity, come around to a new heading, and then take off again at high speed. All of this meant they had to spend extended time under a lot more gravities of force than was comfortable.

  The rapid course changes hadn’t thrown off the objects tracking them. Quite the contrary. They had taken advantage of the situation and were moving to cut the fighters off.

  But Rodriguez and Perkins reached the heading and speed Majel had directed them to follow. They cut their engines cut off, letting the fighters coast. Rodriguez took a deep breath, the first he’d managed without struggle in too long. Thank god that was over. Long high-G maneuvers were the suck. He eyeballed the blips on his radar, still moving toward them.

  “Do you think those are missiles or drones?” Rodriguez asked over the radio. “Can’t be fighters. Any pilot would’ve been splattered all over the inside of the cockpit by the maneuvers they’ve made.”

  “Any human pilot, maybe,” Perkins replied. “Out here, who knows what we’re dealing with? Alien physiology isn’t necessarily the same as ours.”

  “I don’t want to meet the critter they can make 25G turns without breaking a sweat,” Rodriguez said.

  Perkins laughed. “For sure. I would guess they’re drones, though. They seem way too smart to be missiles. But like I said, who knows? I imagine we will find out in about a minute or two.”

  “Why a minute or two?” Rodriguez asked.

  “Because right around then, I’m guessing they should be in firing range,” Perkins replied. “If they’re drones, they’ll shoot. If they don’t shoot, they are missiles.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you have a fatalistic outlook on life?” Rodriguez asked. But he was chuckling, as well.

  “My ex-husband,” Perkins replied blithely.

  “You, with an ex? Given your bedside manner, I cannot imagine how that would be possible,” Rodriguez said.

  “Yeah, me neither,” Perkins said. “Quiet a sec. Majel is signaling to us again.”

  Rodriguez shut up. He didn’t want to do anything to distract Perkins from translating the Morse code coming his way. Their lives might hang on whether or not they could communicate with the Satori. He didn’t know what sort of plan the AI had come up with, but both pilots knew they were putting their lives in her hands.

  “All right. She wants us to maintain this course and speed. We’re not to waver even the smallest bit,” Perkins said.

  A flashing red light began glowing on Rodriguez’s console. Of any alert he could’ve received, that was the one he dreaded most. “Ah, Perkins…”

  “I see it, too. I guess that answers the question. They’re not missiles,” Perkins said.

  The alarm light told Rodriguez that a hostile ship was targeting his fighter with some sort of weapons system. It was incredibly vague and nonspecific. Just, ‘someone is about to light you up,’ with no more explanation than that. The idea behind it was simple. If you were being targeted, you were about to be shot. The pilot’s best move at that point was to dodge like hell.

  The problem was, the Satori had just ordered them to st
ay on course.

  “We need to break off,” Rodriguez said. He grabbed his control stick, preparing to make radical course changes. Anything that might keep him alive through whatever those alien ships were about to send his way.

  “Trust Majel,” Perkins said. “She’s not steering us wrong.”

  “She’s not here,” Rodriguez replied. But he hesitated. What if he veered off course and it screwed up whatever stunt she was planning? He might blow any chance either of them had.

  Rodriguez sat there, staring at his radar for several agonizing seconds. Perkins continued to fly along the same course. Was he right? Would the Satori somehow come to the rescue? They were both sitting ducks, flying like they were. Dodging, at least they would have some chance. Rodriguez took a deep breath… Then he took his hands off the controls, taking a leap of faith.

  “You’d better be right about this,” Rodriguez said.

  “Why? What are you going to do if I’m wrong?” Perkins replied. “We’ll both be dead at that point, so I think I’m safe.”

  Rodriguez couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was still laughing when, a moment later, five brilliant points of light lit up space ahead of him. The explosions were still a long way away, but bright enough to be seen even at that distance. He glanced on his radar, trying to figure out what had just happened. The enemy contacts were gone. Just vanished. Rodriguez felt a surge of hope.

  “And that is why I always bet on the AI,” Perkins drawled.

  “What did she do?” Rodriguez asked, still astonished.

  “Railgun rounds, I would guess. She must’ve fired them a while ago,” Perkins said. “Probably shot about the same time she gave us our marching orders. She fired the rounds into the space she predicted those drones would be.”

  That explains why she’d been so adamant that they stay on course. Rodriguez sucked in a deep breath. If he’d maneuvered, some of the enemy ships almost certainly would have changed their own paths to match his. Which would have made the railgun rounds miss. He’d come that close to screwing the whole thing up.