Exodus: Machine War: Book 2: Bolthole

by Doug Dandridge

  He actually crippled the third robot after destroying the first two. Only two of his people were still alive by then, the rest falling to the beams and exploding pellets being fired through the opening. The pistol burned into the flesh of Harris’ hands, and he had to fight back to pain to continue holding it as his skin blistered. The beam died, and Harris looked down to see that the proton pack was empty. His hands were in agony, but he wasn’t about to drop his only weapon. He ran to the desk to retrieve another proton pack. But the only protons the man was destined to get were the fast moving variety that plowed into his head and dropped his body, smoking from the stump of a neck, to the floor. The ex-soldier had done all he could, destroying two machines and damaging another, while going out like a lion.

  The Machines continued to tear apart the station, grabbing parts and materials to assemble more of their own kind.

  * * *

  “What’s going on here,” yelled Quan as the fifty-seven Klassekians clustered in the hallway, while one of them worked on the lock on the door to one of the weapons storage arsenals.

  “The station is being overrun by your mortal enemies,” replied Nazzrirat Andonna, his siblings clustered around him where he was trying to open the lock.

  “Do you all know how to use those weapons?” asked the Supervisor, looking over all the Klassekians, who still, for the most part, looked pretty much alike to his eyes.

  “I taught my brothers through our Quantum link,” he told the Supervisor, who had talked with him for some hours about the ability of his people to transmit information from sibling to sibling. “These other workers have as well, and more are on the way. We should have several hundred fighters ready to go by the time the Machines get here.”

  “But, you have no armor,” protested the Supervisor. “You won’t stand a chance.”

  “And none of us stand a chance if we just stand around and don’t defend our new home,” said Nazzrirat, stepping away from the door. “Now, can you open this thing for us, or must we find clubs to fight with?”

  Quan looked them over for a moment, and Nazzrirat was afraid for that moment that the Supervisor was going to deny him. Finally, he shook his head, then went through the process of opening the heavy door to the armory, looking into the visual scan and placing his thumb on a print scanner that also read his DNA. The multiple electronic locks on the armory door clicked open, sliding their heavy bars out of the way as the nanosystems opened what had been solid alloy to make a seam. The door slid back and then into the wall, revealing the room full of boxed weapons.

  Quan moved into the room and started opening the heavy boxes with his thumb, Klassekians following behind and pulling out rifles and handing them to their compatriots. The beings took the weapons and moved to the side of the room where proton packs and batteries were stored in lockers. Each grabbed a half dozen of each of the ammunition supplies and stuffed them in the shoulder bags they had each brought for the purpose.

  “OK,” said Nazzrirat, who had somehow found himself in charge of the whole company. “Every sibling band send out your scout. Let’s find out where these damned things are. Each platoon follow their scouts, and we’ll kick these damned things out of our new home.”

  * * *

  “Where the hell is our support,” yelled Marine Captain Thomas Douglass, watching as his troops fought a defensive battle against the Machines. The robots were not gaining any ground against the cordon he had thrown around their position, but neither were his people pushing forward. Meanwhile, the Machines were constantly sending reinforcements to their front, while he hadn’t gotten a single Marine to replace the forty-one he had lost since contacting the enemy.

  “It’s coming, son,” said the Marine Colonel who was in charge of the regiment Douglass’ company was assigned to. “We’ve got a lot going on here. We’ll get to you.”

  And I’m not your fucking son, asshole, thought the Captain, careful that he didn’t let the thought get past his com filter and onto the Colonel’s implant. I’m losing people here, my people, and I really don’t care what is going on somewhere else.

  “The robots are pushing us hard, sir. If you don’t give us some support, I’m afraid we won’t be able to hold.”

  “And you will hold, until we get you some support. Do you understand me, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the Captain, the only thing he could say to a superior officer. And I guess you’ll court martial me if me and my people are overrun. Well, good luck with that.

  “We have another assault coming our way, sir,” called out the Squad Leader that was now the woman in charge of first platoon.

  Douglass took in the view from the front line of that platoon, manning one third of his perimeter around the Machine strongpoint. He had a two Marine team every fifty meters, not nearly enough to sufficiently man his perimeter, and there were even larger gaps between platoons.

  Here they come, he thought, watching as over thirty the big combat robots, each massing about twenty tons, started toward his men. They had shown that they could fly over the asteroid on magnetic repulsion, but anything that took to the air, man or Machine, was instantly splashed. It made more sense to stay near the ground and fight from cover.

  Particle beams reached out, striking the robots who were made out of nickel/iron. Their armor was between thirty and forty centimeters thick, but it was still only what was considered a soft alloy, and particle beams ate through it with frightening rapidity. The main advantage the robots had were numbers, and a large mass that could take a lot of damage before they went down.

  “Shit,” yelled the acting platoon leader. “What the hell is that?”

  Whatever it was, it was big, at least as large as a main battle tank, and they massed at least a thousand tons. It wasn’t shaped like a tank, which was built to present the heaviest armor with the smallest cross section to the enemy. This thing was twenty meters tall, like some large dinosaur like animal. It reared to its full height, turning the head section that was the sensor and weapons cluster toward the Marines.

  It may have been a deadly weapon, with the mass to carry heavy beams and projectile weapons. But it was not very well designed for modern combat. One of the rocket gunners was able to lock on within seconds, before the robot could develop the target. The gunner squeezed the trigger of her weapon as soon as the target green lit in the sight, the five kilogram missile, mostly crystal matrix batteries and grabber units with a small fusion warhead, popped out of the tube, then accelerated at twenty thousand gravities. The flux of gravitons actually pulled at the launcher and the suit of the gunner like a small, temporary black hole. The suit was able to easily resist that pull for the few moments it existed, but the missile actually pulled dust from the surface in a swirling trail that evoked images of a nonexistent atmosphere.

  The missile struck the robot in a thousandth of a second after launch, the kinetic energy blasting into the body of the robot just below where the neck joined. That kinetic energy flung molten metal all directions that flared to vapor in the process. The small fusion warhead, about ten kilotons, went off a microsecond before impact, while it was still functional. The Robot was as massive as a main battle tank, though nowhere near as strongly built. Tanks were made of superstrong alloys strengthened with the strongest carbon fiber reinforcement humankind could construct. The robot was made out of base metals, and the missile made to hurt a main battle tank totally destroyed the machine.

  But more were coming, and a couple reared their ugly heads and fired on what targets they could find. One Marine dropped off the company commander’s plot, while suit damage came across for another. A missile gunner got rid of another of the giant machines, but it was clear that there weren’t enough missiles in his company’s inventory to take them all out.

  “This is the James McArthur,” came a voice over the com. “DDX 21403. We are ready to give you orbital fire support.”

  Douglass, who was a regular Fleet Marine, and not one of those assigned to Explorati
on Command, cursed under his breath. He would have preferred a regular Fleet ship, though he understood why any warships in the system would be heading out to attack the Machine force that would soon be heading in.

  “Fire mission,” shouted the Captain over the com, then switched to the company circuit for a moment. “Everyone pulse your location for a sec, then illuminate every machine you can.” He switched back to the ship com. “Targets close. Do you have the positions of my people, and the enemy?”

  “Roger that. Have everyone put their heads down, because this is going to be danger close.”

  Douglass cursed again as he dropped to the ground, even though he was forty meters back from the actual front. The ground rumbled underfoot, the vibrations of kinetic strikes reaching them. There was no streak of fire, only the flash of kinetics striking the surface of the asteroid, five distinct strikes in two seconds. Dust rose from the surface of the asteroid, and illuminated the mass of lasers and particle beams that were coming in from above. The beams played over the enemy area for about two minutes, then more kinetics came down, this time with a small streak near the surface as they penetrated the dust.

  “Hope that helped,” said the voice of the Tactical Officer from McArthur. “We’ve got another call. Will get back to you when we can.”

  “Everyone, prepare to move out,” called Douglass over the company freq, then switched back to the ship. “Thanks, McArthur.”

  Douglass moved forward on his suit, hanging centimeters above the surface, watching his HUD as the icons of his troops started moving forward as well. He checked his batteries, happy to see that he still had a sixty percent charge. That didn’t mean all of his people would have that same reserve, since those on the front would have used more power for their electromag fields than he had. And if they’re low on power, it’s up to them to make it known.

  He kept waiting for the Machines to fire on his people as they moved forward, tightening the circle around what had to be their initial breakout point on the surface. Up here they didn’t know what the status was down below within the asteroid. And at the moment that wasn’t their concern. The company moved forward, flying low over the surface, everyone staying crouched as low as they could, seeking the nearest cover to dive into if the shit hit it again. But all they could see were the smashed forms of the robots, the huge tank sized and the smaller suit sized versions.

  They did a bang up job, thought the Captain as he closed up to the front, wanting to get a look at the nest that was through his own eyes. A few shots were fired at robots that still had some movement in them. It was the movement of a dying animal, no longer functional and trying to crawl for cover so they could self-repair. The Marines made sure that was not going to happen, blasting anything that still had an energy signature to scrap.

  “And here we are,” said Douglass over the com as they got to the large crater that had been the center of this Machine nest. There were very few remains here. The multiple kinetic strikes had vaporized almost everything that had been here, up to thirty meters into the asteroid. “This nest is gone,” reported the Captain over the com to Central Control.

  “Is there still any way down into the asteroid?” came back the question from the Colonel almost immediately.

  “I’m not sure, sir. The whole area is pretty much torn up. But I‘ll have my people look and see.”

  And if we find a way in, we get caught up in tunnel fighting, thought the Captain, not sure whether he liked that idea at all. But the Colonel hadn’t asked him his opinion of it, so he figured he would just have to forge ahead if they found a path in.

  * * *

  “Admiral Nguyen wants to know what he should do about the supermetals production facility,” said the Flag Com Tech. “He says he’s under orders to defend that facility.”

  Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk slapped her forehead with her palm as she sat her chair on the flag bridge of the hyper VII battleship Shogun Kamakura. She had a force of two battleships, including Gonzalez’ Countess Ishuhu Murigowa; four battle cruisers, two heavy cruisers, six light cruisers and eleven destroyers along with her. And the ten kilometer wide asteroid that contained the unfinished battle cruiser that had been labeled The Rock. Since it was only capable of forty gravities acceleration, it slowed down the rest of her force, but it carried a punch she needed.

  “Tell Nguyen that I am ordering him to abandon that station and rendezvous with my force, now,” she said, spitting out the words to the Klassekian who was manning the com station, and who was transmitting them back to one of his siblings, then through another sibling pair to the Rear Admiral’s force. She wished she could be looking at him, and, according to what the experts were telling her, that should be possible through the Klassekian net in the future. But not yet, so the only thing getting to the Rear Admiral’s force were the relayed words.

  Nguyen’s force, three battle cruisers, two heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, and nine destroyers; was over a light hour away. The tactical plot was showing fifty-three Machine ships, all in the two to four million ton range, heading in, due to hit the barrier about twenty-five light minutes to system spinward, or forty-one light minutes absolute.

  And the only chance we really have is to join up into one force, thought the Admiral, glaring at the plot. And why can’t that idiot see that?

  “Admiral Nguyen reports that he will comply, ma’am,” said the Com Tech, glancing nervously back at the small but frightening human.

  “Damn right he will,” grumbled Bednarczyk under her breath. Her next order was going to be to relieve him of his command if he kept refusing to do what she said.

  “Estimated time of enemy to barrier, two minutes, eleven seconds,” called out the Flag Navigation Officer.

  And then they’ll be able to fire on Nguyen, thought the Admiral, considering her possible response to that. The Machine weapons, she still had trouble thinking of something so big as a missile, didn’t accelerate as fast as her missiles.

  “Do you have an estimate of their entry point?” she asked the Flag Tactical Officer.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the officer, highlighting an area on the plot ahead of the enemy vessels. “But we’re not sure how they’re going to change vector after coming through.”

  “Then let’s give them some incentive,” said Bednarczyk with a cold smile. “Do we have missiles warmed up on the end of the wormhole?”

  “Two tubes worth,” replied the Tactical Officer after checking her readout.

  “Tell The Rock to fire off those two tubes worth of missiles at their projected position at meeting,” she told the officer. “Then tell Kamakura’s Captain to let off two volleys of her own missiles.”

  “But, what…”

  “Just do it, Tac. You don’t have to understand. Just follow the order.”

  Three light seconds to port The Rock released a stream of thirty missiles traveling at point nine light through her wormhole weapons port, aimed at the spot where it was calculated the Machine ships would be if they came straight in from their translation point. Moments late another thirty missiles came through, traveling to the same target point on a ballistic profile. They were untrackable until they engaged their grabbers, which they would not do until they needed a close course correction to engage their targets.

  Second later the battleship let off the first of its twenty-four missile volleys, followed by another one. These were accelerating at five thousand gravities, following the other missiles. They were easily trackable, meant to get the attention of the ships they were aimed at. When the Machine ships translated from hyper to normal space they picked up both naval forces, and the missiles heading for them from one of those forces. With their algorithms engaged, they headed for what they deduced was the greater threat, just as Bednarczyk had hoped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.

  Horace Mann

  BOLTHOLE.

  “What’s the holdup?” yelled Ca
ptain Douglass over the com. He and his command team were still on the surface, set up in the crater that had been the Machine nest. They had finally uncovered two shafts leading into the asteroid, buried under the rubble of the kinetic strikes. It had taken little time to clear them out with their suits and some engineering lasers. He had sent a platoon down each. One had been clear after the initial obstruction, while the other had another couple of blockages to burn through. And then it seemed to be clear sailing. Until now.

  “We’re running into heavy resistance,” came the voice of the leader of third platoon, which had gone down the tunnel which had appeared to be the most clear. “As soon as we blast through one robot, we have to deal with the one behind it.”

  “Can’t you go around?” asked Douglass, feeling like an idiot as soon as he asked the question. They could barely fit one suit at a time down the shaft, in places two.

  “No, sir,” said the Lieutenant, exasperation in her voice. “And we’re losing an awful lot of point people, which makes it difficult to get the body out of the way. Isn’t there any way we can abort this cluster, sir?”

  “I wish we could, Devor,” said the Captain. “But it wasn’t my call.”

  “I think it would be a much better idea to just set up a blocking force on the surface, sir, and send the rest of our people into the habitat through the entrances. We’re not meant for this kind of fighting.”

  Douglass agreed with her. Their suits gave them unprecedented mobility for ground troops. While they also gave them unprecedented protection, the two abilities worked together to make them the most effective space born infantry known. Sticking them into a narrow passage was not a good use for them, but he couldn’t agree in front of the other officer.

  “I’ll get on the horn to command and see what I can do,” he told the other officer, then switched freqs.