The legionnaires gathered beneath the opening, instinctively standing just outside the light shaft, and listened. It was quiet above, the sounds of blaster fire still distant.
“Masters, go up top and see if it’s all clear.”
“Sure. I was hoping to get shot in the face today.” Masters climbed the ladder like a moktaar up a tree, but quietly, not letting his hands or feet make a sound on the metal rungs.
When it was evident that the scout had reached the top, Chhun asked, “What do you see?”
“Bodies.” There was no mirth in Masters’s voice. And no jokes to follow. “Lots of bodies.”
“Any of those machines?” asked Bear, voicing the question Chhun had intended to ask next.
“None that look functional.”
“Think you can get out through the opening and into the street?” Chhun asked.
“Yeah. You following me?”
“Right behind you.”
When Chhun reached the top of the ladder, he found himself peering out at street level through a storm drain built into the side of a walkway. Masters was already outside, his legs visible. The scene was breathtaking—in the grimmest way imaginable. Dead legionnaires, marines, militia, and civilians lay heaped together in piles, with destroyed war bots likewise sorted.
It was a vast killing field.
Chhun stared at all that stretched out before him, his hands tightly gripping the topmost rung. It was as if the planet itself had expelled all who had ever died in its history into this one spot, making what was an otherwise glorious and beautiful core world city into an open grave.
“Something wrong?” asked Bear, right below his former team leader.
Chhun wanted to say yes. That there was something wrong. Something very wrong with the entire galaxy for a scene like this to exist. So many dead. Kill teams, civilians, legionnaires… slaughtered like livestock. But instead he answered no, and made his way into the still carnage.
Noise drifted from the far corners of the city. Voices united in terrified screams—or perhaps Chhun imagined that. What he didn’t imagine were the blaster shots and explosions. These machines were not concerned with military targets and personnel alone. They were conducting a wholesale extermination of every person they could find.
A commotion sounded to Chhun’s left. A large bird, its wingspan at least seven feet, flopped around, unable to fly away and escape the crowding dead. A blaster bolt had torn through its wing—and not by accident. More of the creatures were spread throughout the area, necks and wings broken, as though they had been hunted out of the air.
It seemed as though these robotic invaders were intent on killing every biological organism they encountered.
The thought sent a chill up Chhun’s spine. He told himself that he was imagining things. That the machines were likely under the control of some undetermined but lethal force. The Black Fleet.
But it felt like the end of days. Like a hypothetical doomsday survival trainer that those bright Legion minds prepared for live-fire training games. Scenarios like, “What if a legitimate, widespread artificial intelligence uprising attempted to destroy all life in the galaxy?”
What then?
Both Chhun and Masters stood dumbfounded at the destruction.
The storm drain opening was almost too narrow for Bear to squeeze through. But he made it, and joined his brothers, a full head taller than each. “Oba…” he said, looking around.
“So what now?” Masters asked.
Chhun wondered the same thing. The answer was ingrained deep inside of him, set there as a bulwark against the despair and hopelessness that came in dark times like those that came with war. “We’re legionnaires,” he said. “We adapt. We keep fighting for what’s best for the galaxy and the Republic. And right now, what’s best is for us to stay alive long enough to get word out about what’s happened here today. In case more is coming.”
“This is the Savage Wars all over again,” said Masters.
“Worse,” contended Bear. “Did you hear back from Wraith?”
“Not yet, but deep-space transmissions can take time to catch up with a ship if it’s traveling through hyperspace.”
Chhun looked out over the field of the dead. Precious few had woken up this morning knowing the day might be their last. Chhun wondered if the same fate awaited him and his brothers. “We’ve all gone through evasion and survival training. We know what to do in a situation like this. Let’s take a look for survivors and then stock up on equipment. Then we make for the wilds and hold out until help arrives or the situation changes.”
An airborne whine, as if from repulsors, sounded high above them. Chhun looked up to see an odd, alien-looking aircraft. Angular, with sharp lines that seemed to disappear into itself.
“Down!” hissed Bear.
All three men dropped among the dead, becoming like corpses themselves. Playing a macabre game of hide-and-seek with the craft overhead, watching to see if it would slow or carry on past them.
It flew past, making its way deeper into the city, where it unleashed a volley of missiles at the base of a mega-scraper. It wasn’t one of the truly gigantic towers that crowded many of the core’s financial centers, but a modest, by core-world standards, forty-story building that presented an ocean view on a world meticulously crafted to be a place of respite for its rich denizens. A little slice of heaven that still provided all the comforts the galaxy had to offer.
The missiles appeared to be angled at random, rather than being focused in a single concentration of direct firepower, but it was clear that the craft’s pilot—organic or artificial—knew what they were doing. The building shook, then swayed, then came crashing down. All from a payload of four missiles.
“They’re gonna wipe out the whole city,” said Masters, not moving from his corpse-like position.
“Maybe the whole planet,” replied Chhun.
“Well… aren’t you an optimist.”
“I think we’re clear,” Bear said.
Chhun pushed himself up off the ground. He realized that he had been lying on the severed leg of a legionnaire, bent at the knee as if in midstride. “Let’s grab what we can and get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Quick as possible would be right now.” Masters was already removing rations from the pack of a Republic marine. He paused to look at Chhun. “Just sayin’.”
He was right, but Chhun was unwilling to leave while there was a chance—however slim—that a fellow legionnaire might still be alive. Even though, by all evidence, that seemed impossible. “We need charge packs and anything else that might be useful. Not to mention rations, especially if these things do to the rest of this planet’s game what they did to the birds.”
“You think they killed the birds on purpose?” Masters asked.
Bear grunted as if to say he wasn’t so sure. “If whoever is controlling the bots wanted to kill everything, why not do it with a planetary bombardment? Any ship that could get a destroyer to run has to have the capability.”
Chhun had thought about the same thing. He gave the only answer his mind could muster, the one that also caused him to believe that no one was behind the war bot assault except the machines themselves. “I don’t think anyone is controlling this army. I think it’s an aware AI, or multiple AIs. And I think they want to fight on our terms, like any invading army would.”
Masters sounded incredulous. “Like they want… whoever, us, to see that they can fight our way, but better?”
“That’s not good,” Bear mumbled.
The ominous prospect of an actual AI uprising spurred the legionnaires to move quickly. They grabbed charge packs, spare medical kits, rations, as much as they could fit on their persons. Chhun would have liked to to have grabbed some SABs and aero-precision missile launchers—they would probably need them before the end—but they would be too much to carry.
As for survivors, not even the faintest glimmer of hope remained. The war bots had not only killed everyt
hing in sight, they had done so with a ruthless thoroughness.
Chhun was pulling fraggers and ear-poppers from the belt of the dead Legion commando when he heard the hum of another repulsor. This one sounded different from the previous intruder, but Bear’s warning shout was the same.
“Down!”
The legionnaires again dropped. A craft shaped like an inverted wedge with a large white dome beneath its fuselage stopped and hovered over the battlefield. It was obvious to Chhun that this ship was some sort of scanner or intelligence craft. Maybe the ship that had flown overhead earlier had seen them after all.
This craft hovered a hundred meters up for several seconds. It emitted a bright strobe-like flash, then continued on its way.
Masters was the first to lift his head when the sound of the ship’s repulsors faded away. “Whaddaya think that was?”
Bear had a pair of field macros and was scanning the horizon while prone. “Looking for us, is what it was.”
Chhun wasn’t usually one to jump to paranoid conclusions, but he couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, I think so too. You guys got everything you need to get out of here?”
“Probably not,” replied Masters, “but I’ve got as much as I can carry. I hope you don’t mind, but mostly I took empty charge packs, since they’re so much lighter.”
“You’re an idiot,” growled Bear.
“I’m callow,” said Masters.
“Word of the day?”
Masters nodded.
“You’re using it wrong.”
“Or am I?”
Bear paused. “Hmm. Maybe not.”
Chhun climbed down from a pile of dead bodies. “Okay, let’s head back the way we came. Get back into the water, see if we can drift along the current or swim to a more deserted section of the coastline. The north looked pretty undeveloped on the maps. We can land on the beach up there and hike inland until we’re someplace good and remote.”
Still peering through his macros, Bear said, “Don’t think we’ll be doing that any time soon, boss. There’s some kind of bot hovering our way from the southeast… no, make that three bots. Coming in fast.”
He put down his macros and brought up his blaster rifle.
Masters did the same.
There was little doubt in Chhun’s mind that the three of them would be able to dispose of what were probably reconnaissance bots without much difficulty. But this was a situation where removing the scouts would provide a positive confirmation of their location. It would be reconnaissance by fire.
“No,” Chhun said, slinging his blaster rifle over his shoulder. “We can’t fight right now. We have to hide. These bodies are stacked thick enough. Dig yourselves a hole to hide in.”
“Dude,” Masters said, watching Chhun pull out corpses in an attempt to make himself a foxhole. “That’s hardcore.”
“Just do it!”
The men frantically began to move bodies aside, digging out graves from the dead. Chhun pushed, pulled, and piled until he’d made for himself a burrow that was about five bodies deep. He slid himself into the opening legs first, still wanting to see outward.
“You guys in?” he called over L-comm.
Bear’s voice sounded grim. “Yeah.”
“This is going to give me nightmares,” Masters complained.
“Okay, I want total comm silence until—” Chhun paused. He heard what sounded like digital transmissions across his comm.
“What is it?”
“I want total comm silence,” Chhun ordered. “They might be listening right now. Power down completely.”
“For how long?” asked Masters.
“Until I say. Power down, now!”
Chhun didn’t wait for further replies. He powered his system down.
Immediately he felt as though the world had lost its luster. His visor began to fog his breath. His body warmed from the insulation he had dug himself into. Worst of all, his hearing was muffled to the point where the only sounds he could distinguish were those of his breathing and his beating heart.
He imagined the machines would soon be flying overhead, if they weren’t already there. But how long would they stay and scan? Chhun decided to count the seconds.
One-one-thousand…
Two-one-thousand…
Three-one-thousand…
***
Chhun counted until he was confident that twenty-five minutes had elapsed. During that entire time, he had remained utterly still, and his body now ached. It made him think of the qualified snipers in the Legion, made him think of Twenties. Men like that, men with the ability to endure such grueling discomfort just for the chance to take their shot, had always amazed Chhun. Even more amazing was how much those guys seemed to love it.
It was difficult to hear anything through his helmet, but surely the bots were gone now. He was about to boot his armor back up, just to get the cooling fans running in his bucket, but decided it would be wiser to first visually confirm that no threats were present.
Craning his neck forward, like a turtle venturing out of its shell, he tried to get a better vantage point as to what was outside of his foxhole. Out among the bodies.
A massive, robotic leg slammed down inches from his face. It was one of the big war bots with the riot shields.
While the machine stood there, apparently oblivious to the legionnaire hiding at his feet, Chhun’s heart pounded. He dared not risk moving a muscle. All the bot had to do was look down, and it would probably see him. Chhun was sure it would somehow know that he was alive.
But the feeling of dread bled away and turned into relief when the big war bot moved on, literally trampling its vanquished foes underfoot.
Chhun counted thousands again. This time he waited until he was sure that forty-five more minutes had passed. He didn’t dare crawl from his hole without knowing what was out there. He decided that hearing would serve him better than coming out of his hole and looking around.
Okay, he thought to himself. Power up your bucket and listen. Worst case, one of the bots finds you. In that case, maybe you can draw it away and help Bear and Masters avoid your fate.
The helmet booted up, fast as ever. The cooling fans immediately vented the suit and chilled the thermal gels that sat between armor and synthprene. It felt wonderful.
Chhun set his audio receptors to their maximum level. That should be enough to hear any ambient noises outside of his den. The only sound was the drifting breeze blowing in from the ocean.
Slowly, so slowly, Chhun edged his head out of the opening of his ghoulish foxhole. He was like an animal poking its nose out of a burrow to sniff the air. He counted to three, then came back inside. After waiting a minute, he repeated the process.
Convinced that the threat was truly gone, Chhun activated his external audio. He called from his foxhole, “I think we’re good.”
He hoped his voice would be able to carry far enough for Bear and Masters to hear him through their dead buckets.
No one answered. He would have to venture outside alone.
Chhun wriggled free of the corpses. There was no sign of the bots. He scrambled over to Bear’s hole first, approaching it from an indirect angle. The last thing he wanted was to get shot by coming straight for the legionnaire.
But Bear must have seen him. He popped his head out of his foxhole and shouted, his voice muffled by his bucket, “We clear?”
Chhun lowered himself so he could speak into Bear’s foxhole. “Yeah, I think so. You can boot back up.”
The sound of Bear sighing in relief came over Chhun’s comm. “That was uncomfortable, Captain. Guys my size aren’t supposed to stay crunched into such small positions for that long.”
Chhun smiled. “In that case, I’m sorry to have to tell you to stay put for now. I’m gonna try to get Masters.”
“Don’t let him shoot you.”
Chhun decided to get the Dark Ops legionnaire’s attention in a way that hopefully wouldn’t be mistaken for an attack. He picked up severa
l spent charge packs scattered on the battlefield, then tossed them gently, one by one, into Masters’s foxhole while keeping himself out of a line of fire.
“Hey! Knock it off!” The muffled voice was distinctly Masters’s.
“Can you hear me?” Chhun asked through his external speaker.
“Yeah. Can we go live comms?”
“Yes, but stay in your foxhole while we figure out what to do next.”
Masters’s next words were over L-comm. “Okay, I’m on. Bear?”
“I’m here.”
Chhun scanned the area. “No idea if that search party was it, or if this area is marked for regular patrols. But we have to make a decision either to move now or hunker down and wait until night falls again.”
“I bet those war bots see as well as we do in the dark,” mused Bear.
“The fighting sounds farther off now,” said Masters.
He was right. The sounds of battle were distant. It was as if the war bot forced had radiated outward from this spot, likely killing everything in their path.
“If you wanna call it fighting. Slaughter is more like it.”
Chhun thought about what sort of chaos must have taken place in the city while he and his two-man team were beneath the sea and then covered by the dead. Were the citizens of the planet running, fleeing in a desperate attempt to escape? Had some of them evaded the attackers, hiding like Chhun and his men had? Was it possible that anyone on this planet had managed to put up a stiff enough resistance to actually halt the war bots’ progress?
Chhun didn’t think so. Not when so many legionnaires had died attempting the same. The Gallobren citizens’ only hope was escaping by starship. But what chance did they have of that, when whatever delivered these monsters was able to make even the Intrepid cut and run?
Chhun felt his hopes fade.
And then an incoming text chime sounded with an accompanying message.
It was Wraith.
***
“Hey,” Masters called out over comm. “It’s got to have been three hours since that transmission, right?”
After hearing from Wraith, Chhun had burrowed back into his fetid hiding spot, and the three Dark Ops legionnaires had remained right where they were. Enduring the passage of time, the same as the dead that covered them.
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