Sid watched Juice hold an animated discussion with Criss on the best route to the dividing wall and back to the scout. He heard her end of the conversation, but his mind was preoccupied, and he didn’t process the words.
After several minutes of quiet brooding, he started a separate conversation with Criss. “You’ve clearly succeeded in gaining access to some of the Kardish subsystems. What can you do and what can’t you?”
“I can access anything on the vessel. Once I have done so, I am able to control it. I am constrained by a slow connection, so taking on a new task requires that I drop something I am already doing.”
“Can you get that big hatch above the scout open so we can fly out?”
“Yes, but the scout does not have the fuel for a return trip to Earth, or even the moon. We used the bulk of our reserves to get here. And we’ve been moving farther away from both planets since our arrival.”
“The Kardish must have fuel we can use.”
“I believe I can gain control of a Kardish transport to use as an escape vehicle. If I can, I will move it near the scout. The scout should remain your destination.”
* * *
Jack’s eyes opened to slits, though the rest of his body remained still. He said something without moving his lips. Cheryl couldn’t understand him and leaned in close, putting her ear right next to his mouth.
“I told you he would come, chérie.” He wheezed as he fought to take in another breath. His eyes closed. His lungs emptied for the last time.
* * *
Sid heard an anguished cry and glanced back. Cheryl was looking at him with a hand over her mouth. The other rested on Jack’s chest. She shook her head as her eyes reddened.
Sid shifted onto his knees in the front seat and leaned back toward Jack. “What’s Jack’s status?”
“I am sorry,” Criss said to all of them at once. “The Kardish drugs have poisoned him. He has died.”
Sid reached out and put a hand on Jack’s arm. He bowed his head and didn’t move for several seconds. Then, avoiding eye contact with Cheryl, he turned forward and sat down. Professionally, he knew it wasn’t productive, yet he couldn’t stop the fury from welling up inside him. He rubbed the corner of his eye with the back of his hand.
All three of them looked straight ahead, lost in their private thoughts. Proper mourning would have to wait. Sid thought that some serious revenge between now and then would help ease the pain.
The dividing wall loomed ahead. Criss opened a door and they passed through without slowing. Juice turned the cart and they purred along, travelling parallel to the wall. They passed row after row of drones as they made for the open area where the scout was hiding.
“Where are they?” Sid asked Criss. “What kind of time pressure are we under?”
“There are only two dozen living Kardish on the ship at this point. They have taken to fighting among themselves, so that number is dwindling. Our immediate concern is the six soldiers moving into the box city. They are maintaining mission silence, so I can only infer their final destination from their movements. I have enough evidence to conclude that their objective is to kill us.”
“There’re only two dozen of them?” said Sid. His experiences on the vessel were so surreal that he’d thought he was done being surprised. He didn’t wait for an answer. “What do the soldiers have in mind?”
“Their movements have followed evasive tactics. They have split, doubled back, merged, and then split again. I am tracking them, but with thousands of different box units as viable destinations, my matrix of possible outcomes remains too large to draw a useful conclusion.”
Sid stared ahead as the cart cleared the end of the drone garage and angled on a slanting path across the open field. Juice was doing a great job of driving. He knew roughly where the scout was located, presumably still cloaked and secure, and sensed they were right on target.
They were a short way onto the field when Criss spoke to all of them with clear urgency. “Juice, stop the cart. Everyone get out and separate. Run in different directions. This is an emergency. Move now.”
Chapter 32
Sid heard a throaty growl fill the air around them and pivoted his head back and forth, looking for the source of the noise. He saw a glow coming from six cubicles on the top row of the drone garage. The drones shook, paused as if uncertain, then lifted and hovered in place.
“Criss,” said Sid as he stepped out of the cart. “Please tell me this is you.”
“Six Kardish soldiers are each directing a drone. I was able to track them until they entered a box unit. That unit is connected to many others, so I am challenged to pinpoint their position at this moment.” Farther down the row, perhaps twenty more drones roared to life. “This is me,” said Criss.
Sid stood on the deck and pointed as he spoke. “Juice, you go straight. Cheryl, toward the box city. Run!” He clapped his hands like a coach, punctuating his instructions.
He stood next to the cart and watched. Cheryl ran slowly but made good evasive moves, shifting her path left and right and stopping for brief moments at random intervals. He turned to watch Juice and couldn’t help but smile. She was running with the comfortable stride of a seasoned athlete and had already gained a remarkable distance from the cart.
“Nice work, Juice,” he said to her. “Think about evasive, though. You can’t outrun a drone. So zig and zag, especially if you hear something incoming.” He watched her for a moment longer and saw her move left. “Make more abrupt changes. But slow down at each shift or you’ll injure yourself.”
He stopped talking when his world was drowned out by the growl of drones filling the space overhead. He couldn’t count them all, and he couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad. He was confident Criss would win in the end. But luck and happenstance would also play a role in whether they survived.
Three drones flying as a team screamed straight out over him, banked as one, and came tearing back. Together they targeted a drone that was headed right at Juice. The three simultaneously launched a volley of energy bolts that splintered the machine. It fell to the deck, and a large, burning chunk bounded past Juice, just missing her. Luck and happenstance, thought Sid. One down and five to go.
Sid looked at Jack and contemplated his options. Intellectually, he knew there was no choice to make. Jack was already dead. Yet emotionally, he believed that if he ran, he was somehow abandoning his friend and partner. He touched Jack’s shoulder in a brief farewell ceremony, then turned and jogged in a rambling route that moved him in the general direction of the dividing wall.
He heard a snarl behind him and changed direction so he could see. A drone looped through an aerobatic curve and lined up on a course headed straight for him. Still some distance away, it slowed and hovered.
Sid stopped in his tracks. The tiny ship was standing off at a distance, yet Sid could see the bright light of a weapon surging for discharge. He faked left and jumped right, and it tracked him. His evasive actions were not fooling anyone. He stopped and squared his body to face it.
And then his defiant stand was interrupted by a deafening pressure wave that shook his body. Three drones zipped by in a tight formation right in front of him. The roar shook his chest and shocked his eardrums. In a remarkable exhibition of precision flying, Criss timed the group to intercept and block the deadly energy bolts bound for his body.
The bolts slammed into one of the crafts Criss had deployed as a shield, protecting Sid. He watched the sacrificial drone crash onto the deck and tumble in flames down the field.
A second group of drones teamed with the first. Rather than acting to shield and protect, Criss used these to seek and destroy. They swerved toward the hovering Kardish-controlled craft and poured a stream of energy bolts into it. Shattered by the onslaught, it showered a cascade of sparks, burst into flames, and fell to the deck with a thump.
“Thanks for the save, Criss. What’s the situation?” As Sid said this, he watched two more drones launch from the cubic
les. And then, at the far end of the row, a group of ten drones shot out of their cubicles together. Moving as a unit, these ten flew side by side toward the box city. A rumbling thunder washed over him as the lineup of drones powered into the distance.
“I am able to protect you three,” said Criss. “But this will not end until I stop the Kardish soldiers. They can each command one drone at a time. Every time I down one, it is replaced by another. As long as there are six soldiers, there will be six drones in the air and on the attack.”
* * *
Criss was both frustrated and concerned—frustrated because he had the processing power to control a hundred thousand drones by himself and should be able to end this attack in a decisive fashion. Yet his connection to the Kardish subsystems was slow. Like trying to drink the ocean through a straw, the patchwork of links couldn’t handle the information flow he needed. If he tried to put more than forty drones into the air at once, the connection overloaded.
And he was concerned because his connection was fragile. The cobble of communication went from him, to the scout, to the Alliance, through a serpentine signal path, to a relay in the operations bay, into the Kardish subsystems, and out to the functions that controlled the drones. There were many points of failure. A disruption of any link in the chain would be disastrous for the team.
When he realized that every drone he downed was being replaced by another, he transitioned his methods over the open field from offense to defense. He had three people to protect. He found it straightforward to anticipate the movements of the Kardish-controlled drones and respond accordingly. But this method had limits. At some point, one of his drones would miss its assignment, which would mean death for a team member. An unforeseeable event, such as an unlucky bounce of a fragment after a crash, could have dire consequences as well.
Each drone had a three-gen crystal, making it capable of taking complex, independent actions. Yet the Kardish command-and-control system required that each drone be given a specific assignment by the gatekeeper. Until such an assignment was forthcoming, the drone would sit idle and wait for instructions. It was yet another level of authority imposed by the Kardish over their crystal workforce.
In this battle, the Kardish soldiers were doing their best to perform a gatekeeper’s function. They fed assignments to their drone, and their active link prevented Criss from overriding their instructions. Since he could not intervene directly, he expanded his strategy. He would eliminate the Kardish soldiers.
He launched ten drones and dispatched them into the box city, positioning them in a simple ten-across formation. He powered them out on their maximum thrust. He knew the specific box unit the soldiers had entered but thought it likely that once inside, they had moved to a different location. So he was going to raze the box city, beginning with their point of entry and working outward.
He directed the drones to fly a sortie that was a block wide and six blocks long. The formation swooped across the block-wide strip like crop dusters of old. Except, unlike crop dusters, the drones delivered a spray of destruction. They started the bombardment three blocks before the point where the soldiers had disappeared and continued for three blocks past it.
After a first pass that reduced the swath below to charred wreckage, they banked and flew in for a second pass that edged the first. Criss directed them outward, strip by strip, adding a swath on alternating sides, and reducing an ever widening patch of the box city to ruins.
On the fourth pass, the battle of the drones in the field stopped. Criss wasn’t certain if he’d killed the soldiers or just broken their connection to the vessel’s subsystems. He chose to reduce the chances of a future surprise by having the drones make several more passes. He then sent them back to the open field to act as protection sentries. It was time for the team to make good their escape.
* * *
Sid recognized that the drones were fast and agile. His random-pattern style of running contributed nothing to his safety. At irregular intervals, a Kardish-controlled drone would attack, and Criss would send a mini-armada to protect him and down the drone. With each attack, the Kardish soldiers varied their technique. So far, Criss had been able to anticipate and adapt to maintain his edge.
Driven by reflex, Sid kept moving. His heart pounded and his throat was dry. His ears hurt from the shriek of battle. His nostrils burned from the acrid fumes. But he was a battle-hardened warrior and a legend in the DSA for surviving, even thriving, in crazy situations.
His instincts suggested that the three of them get to the scout and make a run for it. Criss could use the drones to protect them in a rear-guard action as they flew out through the overhead hangar doors. He didn’t know what the Kardish might send in pursuit, but the scout’s cloak should give them reasonable cover. And while there wasn’t enough fuel to make it home, perhaps a supply ship could be sent from the lunar base to meet up with them.
“Criss,” called Sid over the din, “can you protect us if we all move to the scout?”
And then it stopped. The swarm of drones, all of them, slowed and hovered. The echo of explosions quieted. No weapons were firing. The ringing in Sid’s ears was the loudest noise he heard.
The drones drifted slowly into a large semicircle, creating a ring above and around the scout and the three runners. Each drone faced outward. Together they formed a zone of protection. Criss had won.
Sid peered into the haze, trying to find Cheryl and Juice. The smoke was too thick to see any distance. “Cheryl. Juice. Are you okay?”
“Here,” said Cheryl. Sid could hear her labored breathing. “Thank God. I am seriously tired.”
“I’m good too,” said Juice. “I’m pretty sure I’m near the scout, but I can’t see it.”
“Criss,” said Sid. “We’ll gather at the scout. Please help us find it.”
He walked across the field, staying near the front of the drone garage. The sheer volume of debris strewn across the deck surprised him. He tried to retrace his steps and find Jack and realized he would need help. He toggled for a private conversation. “Criss, help me find the cart.”
“Angle slightly to your right,” said Criss. “There. Now walk for six minutes.”
Sid walked for a while and saw nothing but chunks of machines and the occasional burning hulk. “I’m not seeing it.”
“Keep going. Twenty more steps. Stop.”
Sid looked around. He was standing among smoking wreckage. And then he saw the cart, or at least a portion of it. The back of the cart, the part where he had last seen Jack, was buried under the smoldering shell of a downed drone, its nose exposed. It was charred black.
He stood and looked at it for a full minute. He wanted to feel anger and frustration, but he was too drained. He turned and started for the scout. As he walked, he understood that Criss had devoted his resources to protecting the living. Sid would have made the same choice. He kicked a small piece of scrap to bookend the moment. It bounced across the deck as he refocused his brainstorming toward escaping and then destroying the Kardish vessel.
Chapter 33
Sid continued toward the scout, scanning his surroundings for danger. The Kardish ventilation system was efficient at clearing the smoke, and with each turn of his head, he could see further into the haze. The smoke was largely cleared when he perceived movement in the distance. He stopped to look and instinctively brought his hand up to shield his eyes. The hangar doors on the far dividing wall were opening. He looked up and confirmed that the overhead doors were not moving.
“Criss?”
“This is me. I am delivering our ride home.”
Sid resumed walking while keeping an eye on the hangar doors in the distant wall. They finished opening, and moments later the gap darkened. A craft poked its nose out, edged through, and floated quietly above the box city as it moved in his direction.
He marveled at the approaching craft. Then he heard a purr behind him, pulling his attention to his immediate surroundings. He ducked behind a drone fragme
nt, searching for the cart and the danger it signaled, and located the cause for his concern. An empty cart was picking its way through the obstacles on the deck.
“I did not mean to alarm you,” said Criss. “I thought you might appreciate a ride.”
The cart pulled up next to him. Sid didn’t need convincing. He climbed in the front and slumped into the seat. It resumed driving, moving in the direction he knew the scout to be.
Feeling guilty, he called to the others. “Cheryl, how’re you doing?”
“I’m standing next to the scout watching Criss’s ship.”
“Juice, you okay?”
“Yup. I’m in the scout, getting me some nice, cool water.”
Minutes later, his cart stopped, and Sid saw Cheryl standing on the deck, watching him. He could tell from the odd shadow she cast that she was standing under the edge of the cloaked scout.
He hopped out and walked to her. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back.”
Standing in front of her, he turned in a full circle and scanned the area for danger. Seeing nothing of concern, he stopped his twirl when he was again facing her, then reached out, enveloped her in his arms, and held her tight. They kissed.
Juice ducked out of the scout’s bottom hatch and walked over to them carrying water packs. “Geez, you two. Get a room.”
Sid raised his head, lifted an arm from Cheryl, and reached out for Juice. He waved her close. She approached tentatively, then dove in with them. The three shared a long group hug. They’d all ridden a rollercoaster that had touched the extremes of human emotion, and this quiet moment of sharing and physical contact helped them acknowledge and process what had happened. Together they replenished their emotional stores in preparation for what they hoped would be their final push home.
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