by Jaxon Reed
“Is that what you want? To rule over the planets for millennia?”
He smiled again, smugness creeping back into his face and his voice.
“There are so many planets. And so many people. It’s far too much for one man. I’d like to create a team. A small group to rule the State across every planet in the string.”
He moved a few steps closer. I positioned myself next to the fallen bot.
“Is that right,” I said with a neutral tone. “Is that why you killed your companions the morning of the assault?”
His eyes grew big again. I had surprised him. He hadn’t counted on satellite surveillance.
Then his usual confidence returned, and he gained control of his expression again.
“Those men were traitors to the State. They had other ideas about our goals here. I simply eliminated threats to the State’s best interest.”
The man could sure spin a story, I thought.
“And the State’s best interest is to be taken over by you.”
He smiled slightly.
“You do have a way of reaching the crux of the matter.”
He took a deep breath and looked at me as if trying to make a decision.
Finally, he exhaled.
“Yes, the State is corrupt. Centuries of plaque have built up and clogged our government arteries. Nothing is decided outside of committees. There is no more efficiency, if there ever was before.”
I expected him to start pacing as he lectured, and perhaps he would have if it weren’t for the fact I still posed a threat.
“It’s time for real leaders to take action. Make decisions. Assume roles of strong responsibility . . .”
“And kill everybody who gets in their way.”
He smiled again, and seemed to be once more weighing some internal decision.
“Surely you’ve killed before. We’re not so different, I think. We both kill when necessary. What is human life compared to the greater good?”
I shook my head.
“No, we’re different. I believe in the sanctity of human life. I’m an individualist while you’re a collectivist.”
He creased his brows. I could tell he was trying to process my political statement. Looking back, I suspect it’s likely that he had never heard much dissent spoken in his presence before. At least, not so directly.
In one swift motion, I reached down and grabbed the gun attached to the bot’s arm.
In an instant, I figured out two things. One, as I had suspected, the gun could be detached from the arm. Two, as I had fervently hoped, the gun had a trigger mechanism that could be operated manually.
I pulled it level with my eyes to aim just as Phang lifted his gun arm.
Thoop!
My bolt caught him square in the chest, knocking him backward and off his feet.
Thoop! Thoop!
Shooting the gun accurately by hand proved harder than I thought it would. Beginner’s luck must have helped me with the first shot. My other shots went wild. Maybe I was over-thinking it. I decided the bots probably had some sort of electronic aiming mechanism built in.
Phang scrambled toward cover while shooting back. I dodged several of his bolts. Another thought crossed my mind that his armor must provide some sort of protection. The hole in the shoulder area of my safety suit proved it was clearly inferior to his armor. The fact he still lived proved his armor could withstand the shots. Or at least one of them.
I ran back behind the bush and squeezed off a few more rounds by blindly firing over the top.
I risked a peek, and saw him running toward Connie while clutching his chest. Maybe the force of the bolt cracked some of his ribs, I thought.
He grabbed Connie roughly by the arm and pulled her deeper into the park.
I aimed, then decided not to risk it at that distance out of fear of hitting her instead of him. I stood and watched as they disappeared in the foliage.
Several people came running up behind me. I turned and looked, and found the Rangers leading a contingent of about twenty people. Most of them carried nine millimeter rifles.
Dee Dee rushed over and gave me a hug.
Jones looked down at my new gun and raised his eyebrows.
“So, it didn’t self destruct this time, huh?”
“No. And you can use these things apart from the suits.”
I angled it so he could see the trigger mechanism.
I said, “I wonder if it’s worth trying to drill into the heads of the remaining bots and stealing their guns, too.”
By the looks on their faces, few in the crowd seemed to think that was a good idea.
Jason said, “Looks like Phang left behind his makeshift com unit.”
We all turned the direction he pointed, and sure enough. There it sat in the grass, abandoned.
Jason walked over and picked it up. After examining it for a minute, he flipped some switches and spoke into the mic.
“Professor, are you there?”
The little speaker on the unit crackled to life.
“I’m here, Jason. I’ve been watching.”
“So you’re aware of our status, correct?”
“Yes. I know Phang is the only one left, and that he has Connie in the middle of the park. I’m coming down there.”
Chapter Eleven
Two older Technicians and an injured Servant stayed behind in the suite on Level 43 while Professor Cruz made his way down to us via the maintenance shaft.
Jason discussed the city’s controls with the Technicians over the com link, and they quickly familiarized themselves with the system he had hacked. He had them close all entrances on Level 25 to Park 7 except the one closest to the elevator shaft.
Now we effectively had Phang trapped unless he climbed up to one of the terraces on Level 26. That seemed unlikely, though, especially in his injured state. I knew from recent experience how painful bruised and broken ribs could be.
We were worried about Phang’s flying abilities. After all, the suit allowed him to survive space and reenter the atmosphere, then fly through the giant forest and all the way to Redwood City. But as the night progressed, we never did see him fly. Sergeant Sledge speculated my chest shot might have taken out the suit’s flight controls.
We set up a careful perimeter around the entryway leading to the elevators, including several people with rifles. I left the ray gun with Ranger Jenkins, who took charge of everybody at the entrance. He had people stationed on the terraces throughout the atrium to help keep an eye on things. They could shout out an alarm if needed. He also kept Phang’s com unit so the guys upstairs monitoring cams in the park could alert him to any movement.
The rest of us retreated back into the interior, away from the park entrance. I got to see the havoc my booby trap wrought. A gaping hole stared out at us where the elevator shaft had been. The floor of the lobby had also been blown away, and we could look down into Level 24.
It looked like it would take a lot of work to repair the floor and the elevator shaft. The Engineers decided just we almost certainly would have to import a new elevator car from Asiana someday, if travel to all the planets were ever restored. I felt certain the remaining units were probably undamaged since they were supposed to be far enough away from the blast. But all their shafts were ripped apart.
I asked Jason about the lines to elevators below Level 25 getting snapped in the blast.
“We thought about that,” he said with a smile. “I sent them all up to the top to keep their lines safe.”
-+-
We found an empty set of apartment suites nearby and took it over. I sat down to rest. Somebody brought in a portable blood bank and Charlie gave me a fresh baggie. I sipped from it, gratefully, while holding hands with Dee Dee.
The Professor showed up. Nobody complained this time. There seemed little justification in keeping him away at this point.
We tossed around different ideas of flushing Phang out from the interior of the park. Somebody floated the notion of s
ucking all the air out through the ventilation system. A Technician firmly asserted the city’s life support systems wouldn’t allow it. Jason felt confident he could override the system, though.
They went back and forth for a while. It was finally batted down when somebody else pointed out we’d have to remove the air from five different levels, including ours, because of the open nature of the atrium with balconies from hallways on all those levels opening out to it.
Even then, I pointed out, Phang could simply close his visor and use the air supply built into the suit. It was designed to keep him alive in any environment, including space.
Nobody could think of a better idea, so we moved on to discussing other things.
Sergeant Sledge expressed a strong desire to get hold of the remaining ray guns from bots that had not yet self-destructed. That led to a long discussion on how to go about doing it safely.
Andrea suggested using the load bots.
She said, “If they get blown up, it’s not as big a loss.”
“We can’t get them up here from the loading dock without the elevators,” Jacob pointed out. “They’re on skid steers. Not designed to climb ladders.”
After discussing amongst themselves several minutes, a group of Engineers suggested they could rig something up, and left to go work on the project.
We found out later they set up a system of ropes and pulleys connected to a heavy electric motor. They set it up in the maintenance shaft on Level 26, making a crude but effective elevator. They fashioned a harness and were able to bring up a couple load bots to Level 5.
Then the team used the bots to help them quickly construct a makeshift bridge out of scrap metal to cover the first gap in the floor on that level. The bots, and everybody else, could easily cross over the giant hole in the floor after that.
Next they gave one of the bots the industrial drill, and pointed out exactly where to put a hole in one of the two downed bots Andrea’s planter bomb had taken out.
The bots had no problem manipulating tools, with their human-like hands and arms. I recalled Professor Kalinowski, and how he reprogrammed the agricultural bots at AES 3 to roll tobacco into cigars. Handling a drill was no problem.
As soon as the bot positioned the bit, everybody scattered to get out of the way, just in case the self-destruct mechanism went off.
It didn’t. The drill cut through and scrambled the GP synthetic’s circuitry just before. The load bot then disconnected the arm gun, rolled over and handed it to Leesa Jones. She directed the load bot to the other downed units where it repeated the procedure. That’s how we ended up with the remaining ray guns.
By this time it was evening. Somebody scrounged around and found enough food to feed us. The suites on Level 25 became our headquarters, and people moved in and out on their way to report in and go perform assigned duties.
The Engineers and Technicians worked nonstop in teams, some pausing to rest while others took their place at whatever task was at hand. First they dealt with repairing the elevator shafts. They moved the two repurposed load bots up to Level 25 and located metal needed for repairs.
Redwood City’s underlying structure, its skeleton so to speak, did not really require spare parts. Nothing had broken like this before, and the original designers obviously did not expect things like the elevator shafts to get blown apart. Consequently, not a lot of spare metal for the damaged shafts could be scrounged up.
The Engineers took to removing several plates from the maintenance shafts in areas they were not likely to be missed. These were brought over to the blast area on Level 25 to be positioned and reshaped, accordingly.
Work continued through the night. I stepped out around ten and found myself in awe at the swiftness of the repairs. These guys had never done anything like this before, yet their level of improvisation proved remarkably effective.
One of the cadets standing nearby wondered out loud if the shafts really needed repairing for the elevators to work. An Engineer informed him that complete shafts were needed to keep the cars on track.
“Imagine it’s going down at full speed and all of a sudden hits this open area. If it moves by just a few centimeters it’ll crash and likely kill all the occupants.”
Meanwhile, the guys on Level 43 restored service to the remaining elevators so they could travel between the levels above us.
Several Servants carefully made their way back to the park’s periphery and carted off the bodies of our dead. These were hefted up to Level 26 by the pulley system, then carried by elevator to the top. One of the garden sheds was turned into a makeshift morgue. Somebody used a tractor with a backhoe and started digging graves in the cemetery off one of the gardens.
I knew the Ngs and Professor Kalinowski were buried up there. They were killed in the Battle of Redwood. Previously, the rare person who died in Redwood City was shipped off to New Texas for burial or cremation. But as members of the clandestine research team from New Texas A&M, who had given their lives to researching Redwood, and then fighting the State to free Redwood City, nobody had the heart to disinter their bodies and send them off planet.
So they had stayed in place up on the top level the entire time we were away at college. Now, their little corner dedicated as a cemetery was about to get a lot more crowded.
-+-
Most of the rest of us took turns keeping an eye on the park. The Professor felt waiting Phang out would be the best course of action. There were no fruit trees or other sources of food to speak of in there, and he felt perhaps Phang’s reasoning abilities and reflexes might diminish on an empty stomach.
I thought it might tick him off, too, but the Professor was in charge so I kept my opinion to myself. And in all reality, so long as Phang stayed holed up in the middle of the park, he couldn’t do anything.
Well, not much. But he could still hurt Connie.
That proved to be the Great Unspoken as we went about our business. Nobody said anything, but Connie’s fate weighed heavily on our hearts.
Andrea and Charlie made it a point to give Mrs. Cruz a hug each time their paths crossed. Dee Dee cried with her, and they spent lots of time together throughout the evening. The rest of us said nothing, but we shared sympathetic glances with them and each other.
I’ll never be a parent, at least not a biological one, so I’ll never completely understand that kind of emotion. But I could see the love the Cruzes had for their daughter that night. It was etched on every inch of their faces. The haunted look from knowing their daughter remained in peril stayed with them the entire time.
Professor Cruz had Jason set up Phang’s portable com unit to hook into the city’s interplanetary communications system. Fifteen minutes later, President Montoya came on the line. Those of us in the room gathered around the unit to listen in.
“How’s it going over there, Curt?”
“All things considered, Tony, not too bad. We have one GP left, someone named Sebastian Phang. No other GPs are alive, either in orbit or on the surface. We’ve also taken out a dozen and a half synthetics and obtained some of their advanced weaponry.
“Phang holds one hostage but is effectively neutralized. We’ll see what develops by the morning.”
We all looked at each other, noting the Professor did not mention the hostage was his daughter.
“That sounds good. Curt, I’ve got Colonel Thurber Greenberg on the line with us. He’s leading the New Texas Expeditionary Force in orbit around Redwood. Colonel Greenberg, did you catch all that?”
A new voice came over the speaker.
“Yes, Mr. President. Say the word, and we can land at Redwood City within an hour or less. I have three spacecraft full of soldiers ready to kick some GP ass. One man isn’t going to put up much of a fight against us, I don’t care what kind of weaponry he has.”
“What do you say, Curt? You want me to send in the cavalry?”
Professor Cruz glanced at his wife before clicking the mic again.
“We’ve got a hostag
e situation right now that is kind of tricky. If things go south, and Phang ends up with his objective, sending in spaceships full of marines could become disastrous.
“Let us handle this, Tony. We’ve taken out all but one, and that’s a pretty good track record so far. Let’s not jump the gun and snatch victory away at the last minute.”
The colonel immediately began protesting, trying to convince President Montoya to let his troops land over the Professor’s objections.
Major Moore walked up and held out her hand for the mic. The Professor gave it to her.
“Colonel Greenberg, this is Major Rhoda Moore, ranking officer on the surface. I can confirm everything Professor Cruz is telling you, and I agree with his assessment of the situation. We have it handled, sir. But if something unexpected happens, the introduction of your ships and troops could change things dramatically for the worse.”
Reluctantly, Colonel Greenberg backed off. He signed off with a warning.
“If the situation changes, Major, let me know immediately. We’re useless floating around in these tin cans up here. The minute our presence will make a difference, you are to let me know. That is an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Later, when Dee Dee and I found some alone time in one of the back rooms, she said, “It does seem kind of odd to keep all those troops in orbit when we’re only dealing with one man.”
I shrugged.
“The guy’s still dangerous. If he gets us to turn him hematophagous, he’ll become practically indestructible. At that point, I’m not sure an entire army could stop him.”
We talked some more, then found a couple spare couches. I crashed on one and fell asleep instantly.
-+-
The next morning, the Servants set up a breakfast buffet featuring milk and cereal, orange juice, and bagels. We ate it cold and milled around the suite as the Engineer’s night shift came in to swap out with guys who had rested.
About the time most of us finished eating, the voice of one of the Technicians on Level 43 came over the com unit.