"We/I," An-Wing replied, "I couldn't really speak to that. Back on Onfiamme, we smashed up all our robots a long lime ago."
"I think I can see why. Oh well, come on, we'll just pretend he's not listening...."
Humans. Damn them and their interference!
Deep below the Cutter of Blood, the Viral intelligence inside Mexit Depot was not happy. LitUe by little, a good plan was going awry, and this latest mishap—the loss of its exterior sensors to a spacer tank, one day earlier—was evidence that the surface dwellers, at last, were aware of the depot's location. A lull assault from the surface, therefore, could not be far behind.
The depot's meson gun, of course, could no longer be aimed without its sensors, but even so it might still have neutralized any attackers—it might have, had The original designers of the depot not shouldered It with a tail-safe burden: Impenetrable meson screens. Blast away as it mighl at attackers on its doorstep—in the Cutter of Blood—those attackers would be shielded by the depot's very defenses and suffer no injury.
The irony of this situation is clear, the depot cogitated. I keep the tact that one of the meson guns is functioning a secret from Kilalt, so that I will have o check on his power, yet now that very weapon is useless to defend me So think—how else may the attockers be defeated?
Extensive computation then followed, lasting nearly one ten-thousandth of a second.
A trap. Yes, they will be lured into their own destruction.
And so it would be, when the depot computer detected the presence of intruders at its southern cargo elevator. Cunningly, It let a crowd of humans march onto the elevator floor, then let them activate the elevator normally, bringing Them into its depths.
Unfortunately, the Oriflammen idiot Zero - frustrated by his inability to solve the simple puzzle that locked the elevator—had shot out both of the hok) cameras in that area, but even so the depot computer could feel the mass of the humans on the elevator—there were no more than 10, with only a handful in battle dress and no vehicles. It set up its trap accordingly.
On the floor of the depot, before the elevator doors. It mustered an overpowering force, appropriate for the slaughter of Infantry. A full platoon of Imperial security robots, sheathed in combat armor and armed with fusion guns, fanned out before the doors, together with a squad of nightjacks and even a contraband Hiver war bot—a 10-tonne behemoth massing more than all the nightjacks put together, In sum, they represented virtually the entire defense force of the depot.
"Your instructions," the depot notified Itsforce, as they waited for the heavy door of the freight elevator to lift, "are to kilt every intruder and lake no prisoners."
However, the robotic legion would not have the opportunity to execute its orders. Instead of a platoon of human targets, they found themselves facing a single Intrepid lank, hovering above the elevator lioor. The humans were also there, of course, but behind and below the tank, so that the first volley of the robots' Tire splattered ineffectively against the bow and turret of the lank.
It was the only volley the robots would get.
Rotating its gun with ruthless precision, the tank began returning Tire, hurling its irresistible lusion lances with withering speed—disgorging one almost every other second. Every shot hit a robot—and sometimes two or three —and every robot that was hiiwas blasted to molten scrap. Within seconds, every semblance of organization among the robots was lost, and those that remained were soon mowed down by the tank's accompanying infantry, dashing out from under the cover of the tank with lusion guns and grenade launchers as the tank itself moved out onto the floor of the depot.
It may be, Me*it Depot then admitted to itself, that I have miscalculated
I wonder if it's too late for diplomacy to be effective?
At the foot of the elevator shall. Drop Kick was a nervous man. Although all immediate opposition in the depot had been suppressed, he was still concerned by the cargo he was obliged to carry on the back of his tank —Coeur's 100-kiloton demolition charge.
"So, Red Sun," Drop Kick said nervously, "you ready to get that bomb off my rear end?"
"We're taking it off now," Coeur said. "Just give us a few more minutes."
"That's what you said five minutes ago."
"I'm sorry. Drop Kick. It's just that ail of us are In vac suits out here, so we're a little slowed down. Ah, there, we've got it."
The reason why everyone outside was wearing vac suits, or in the case of the three Marines, battledress, was apparent wherever one looked inside the depot. Predictably, the side effect of the earlier firefight with the robots had been energy volleys that sailed
wide of their marks, and many of these In turn struck the various munitions and explosives stored in nearby areas of the depot. Soon thereafter, many of these areas began not only to burn but to explode, starting a chain reaction of destruction that spread outward from the spacers' perimeter at the freight elevator and filled the entire chamber with a toxic haze of combustion byproducts. Coeur, Physic, Tom and Tom's shipmates wore vac suits primarily to avoid breathing that mess.
"So, Captain," Widget said, using her enhanced strength to help lower the bomb to the floor, "do you still want us to set the timer to go off in an hour, even if you don't come back before then?"
"Widget, if we're not back In an hour, you can assume we're dead. All right, Physic, Tom, Bonzo, you ready to go topside?"
"Affirmative," all three responded, standing by the three broomsticks that Drop Kick had also brought down on the back of his tank.
"Good, then let's go get our people. Drop Kick, you're in command if we don't come back."
"Thanks," the tanker said. "But I've got a question for you, sir. Now that we've set the depot on fire, I don't see how we're going to talk any of the slaves into evacuating with us. Are we still going to try to talk them into leaving before we set off the bomb?"
"Absolutely," Coeur answered. "Ifwe don't come back, you're going to have to find someway to drive the slaves out there to the surface. Under no circumstance will you detonate the bomb while slaves are still trapped inside."
"Very good, sir."
"All right, sir," Bonzo said, checking his fusion rifle and tac missile launcher as he hovered on his broomstick beside Coeufs and Tom's. "We ready to go?"
"Almost, "Coeursaid, reaching Into a leg pocket of her vac suit to get something. "There's just one more thing we need...."
'That some kind of secret weapon?" Tom asked.
"Well, after a fashion," Coeur said, bringing a small glass vial Into view, "You're kidding. Holy water?"
"Actually, It's a good idea," Physic said, from her seat behind Bonzo. "Newton and I analyzed it yesterday, and we think It contains a special dye activated by an ultraviolet spotlight on the nightjacks. That's probably how the nightjacks keep from grabbing priests by mistake "
"Right," Coeur said.
"Well, heil," Bonzo conceded, "then splash some on me."
"Yeah, I'll take some of that, too," Tom said.
"You never know," Coeur said, splashing an equal portion on herself and her mates. She then handed the rest to Carina Becker—sufficiently recovered from her prison Injuries to join Tom's troops—and led her Utile broomstick squadron Into the air.
Having a good sense for navigation from memory, Coeur maneuvered directly through clouds of fire-suppressant spray— attempting to extinguish the spreading fires on the floor—and on toward the portal in the ceiling that she knew led to the control room and hospital. The vast scale of the depot made this a long trip of several seconds, however, and Coeur had time to behold a vivid spectacle of human suffering In the deeper parts of the depot. Many of the human staves, terrified by fires and explosions marching toward the far end of the depot floor, were scurrying for elevators presumably leading up to the surface, but others, like frightened animals afraid to move without their master's permission, were clustered in knots dangerously close to being surrounded and cut off by the advancing flames.
77x>s
esfam, Coeurthought. Cod, it'sajob getting them out of here.
But even if it came to pushing the slaves along at bayonet point, that was what the spacers would do. While It was true that stray nightjacks still might haunt some areas of the depot, there was no particular need to rush the demolition of the depot, and therefore as many Innocent lives as possible would have to be saved. The alternative for Coeur was to abandon both her personal values and whatever values separated the RC from every petty dictatorship in the Wilds.
"All right, people, put down," Coeur said, after the broomsticks emerged into the upper level of the depot, which they found seemingly deserted.
"What's up, skipper?" Bonzo asked.
"Achange of plan. Tom, you hop on my stick. Bonzo, you take Tom’s."
"All right" Physic said, taking over her broomstick's controls, "I give up. What's going on?"
"Tom and I are going to the control center," Coeur said. "That Is, of course, if you're game, Tom."
"Whatever you say. Red," Tom replied, climbing onto the back seat of Coeur's broomstick. "You're the general ."
"But Coeur," Physic cautioned, using Coeur's real name for force, "I don't think that's prudent. It's bound to be guarded."
"That's why we brought these," Tom said, Indicating the Integral grenade launcher of her rifle.
"Don't worry, doctor," Coeur said, "we'll be careful. But there's a lot of people on the floordown there who look afraid to run, and I aim to persuade them."
"Persuade them? How?"
"Hopefully, by getting on the station intercom and telling them to move if they know what's good for them. Now go on. if you find our men in the hospital, get'em out, IT you don't just get out to the others. We'll link up with you later."
"Understood," Bonzo and Physic said, rising back Into the air and moving off down a side corridor toward the hospital.
"You ready?" Coeur asked Tom.
"Roger."
"Good. We're moving out."
Some minutes later, still unopposed, Coeur flew through familiar tunnels and corridors to the very control room where first she'd met St. Kilalt. There they finally met opposition: a lone nightjack.
Fortunately, Brother Anthony's holy water seemed to work as advertised. Seemingly confused by something odd about the women, the nightjack paused long enough questioning the dismounted Coeur to let Tom sneak around to one side and cave In its torso with an armor-piercing grenade.
"Pretty stupid robot," Tom said, as she and Coeur walked into the circular main control room.
"Yeah, well, good help Is hard to find," the voice of Mexit Depot said, vocalizing from a console speaker. That being the first time Coeur had heard the voice, she was as startled as Tom—but only for a moment.
"Well, hello. Depot" Coeur said, making straight-awayforthe communications panel she remembered. "I guess you know we've come here to blow you up."
"I was hoping to talk to you about that" the computer said, as Tom wandered oH to another portion of the control room.
"Sort of bargain for your life, huh?"
"Something like that Being the Shrewd commander you are, surely you must realize that my Inventory is worth a great deal. I could make a wealthy person out of you."
"Like SL Kilalt?" Coeur asked.
"Forget KilaH. He was so nanow-minded he didn't even realize I'm self-aware. But you're a woman I can work with."
"Hmm," Coeur said, trying fruitlessly to activate the Station Intercom. "Co on, you said you were going to make a wealthy woman out of me."
"Oh, yes. But forget wealth—a woman with your courage and audacity deserves a position to match, so think of it—'empress of the subsector.' HoWs that grab you?"
"Why think so small?" Coeur said, still uying to coax a response from the panel, "Why not 'empress of the Restored Imperium?'"
"Please forgive me," Mexil Depot said fawnlngly. "I had no Idea how superior a being I was dealing with,"
"You don't know the half of It," Coeur said. "But before we talk about that, why don't we talk about restoring power to this comm panel?"
"I'd be more than happy to restore power to that panel," the computer said, "as soon as I have some assurance that you're willing to entertain my proposal."
Damn, Coeur thought. How did I know he'd say that?
Before Coeur could answer, however, Tom made an abrupt announcement "Say, Red, I've been looking at this diagram on the wall over here, and it looks like the computer's main memory Is In the next room over there "
"Really. Why don't you take a look, then?"
"Hey, now wait a minute—" Mexit Depot protested.
The protest fell unheeded, however, as Tom crossed the control room to a side door marked CAUTION—HIGH VOLTAGE and shot its lock off.
"Well, what do you know about that," Tom said, gazing through the door at a room roughly the size of a starship double stateroom, filled floor to ceiling with racks of TL14 parallel processor boards. "I'd bet a few grenades could blow up the whole works."
Tom then beg an emptying armor piercing grenades out from her rllle's launcher and replacing them with high-explosive rounds, better suited to the obliteration of fragile circuitry.
"All right, all right," the computer said. "You win. You can have power back to the comm panel."
"Good," Coeur said, "but I'd like a little more than an activated comm panel if I'm going to spare your life."
"Name it."
"How about this. In your own voice, tell the slaves, on the depot floor and in their quarters, to evacuate the station,"
"I don't know if I want to do that. Captain,..."
"All right," Coeur told Tom, "blow him away "
"Walt! Wait, hold on! I'll do it."
"Good. Now make it snappy."
True to hisword, a moment later theentire depot echoed with the sound of its master's godlike, booming voice, urging all "servants" to evacuate to the surface "temporarily" during the present "minor" crisis.
"Good work," Coeur said, confirming the success of the evacuation order with a look at another panel the computer had obligingly reactivated, displaying the view from various security cameras on the depot floor and In the slave quarters. Colnclden-tally, these caught a glimpse of Bonzo and Physic as well, flying back toward the spacer perimeter with a pair of human forms slumped over their broomsticks' passenger seats.
Thank Cod, Coeur thought I just hope Fubarond Cremlin are alive.
"So," Mexit Depot said, "Now that that's all over with, I assume you'll want some favorable terms for access to the surviving depot hardware,"
"No," Coeursaid, "I just want you dead. Pull his plug, Tom."
"With pleasure," Tom said, pumping no less than three grenades Into the computer's brain before the machine could raise any last, compelling objection. Detonating with shattering, concussive force, they not only obliterated the heart of Mexit Depot's Intelligence, but also shattered several holographic display panels In the adjacent control room as well, showering Coeur and Tom with debris as they dove for cover on the floor.
A single thought, however, flickered In the consciousness of Mexit depot before St faded out entirely.
It serves me right, It thought, for trusting a human. * * *
After the room exploded, Coeur and Tom lay a long moment below the debris, waiting In the sudden darkness to see If the room Itself would collapse on them. The command room appeared to be solidly built, though, and Tom finally ventured to whisper a question.
"Think I got him?"
"Yeah," Coeur said, pulling herself up onto her knees and drawing a lights tick from a leg pouch, "Ithinkyougothlm. Now let's see If any of the systems are stlli on line."
"I don't see how they could be," Tom said, drawing her own lightstlck and rising to her feet along with Coeur. "According to the circuit diagrams In here, the main computer was linked into everything."
"Yeah, maybe," Coeur said, checking bank after bank of instruments, now dead. "But there's just one thing that bothers me. Why would this s
tation only have one computer?"
"What do you mean?" Tom asked. "It's not a spaceship. Ifs not like ifs going to crash if it doesn't have a computer,"
"Well, okay, I'll tell you why. If the people who built this facility went to all the Lrouble to Install a meson screen—which these schematics say they did—then they should have Installed a backup computer as well, just to make sure the screen never went down."
"An oversight, maybe?"
"Maybe. Or maybe there is another computer that doesn't have its wiring displayed in this room."
"Possible. What say I go check back with Drop Kick and see if power's out throughout the depot?"
"Right, but I'll go with you. I don't want people moving around alone in here."
A few minutes later, the women returned to the main hatch leading back to the depot floor, after passing through myriad corridors gone completely dark.
"Well, I'll be damned," Tom said from the rear seat of the broomstick, when they flew through the hatch and found themselves hovering high above the main depot floor, illuminated only by the flames of burning ordnance. "We must have shut down all the station's power when we shut off the computer,"
"Well, good," Coeur said, activating her suits integral radio with a forearm switch. "Drop Kick, do you read me?"
"Loud and clear, skipper, But boy, you had us worried when all the lights went out."
"Sorry about that. Are the people still evacuating?"
"Roger that. They were leaving by elevators before the power went out but now it looks like they've switched to leaving by hidden maintenance shafts. Whiz Sang and Widget noticed that when I sent them to scout around."
"Good job. They have any idea how long it'll take for the slaves to reach the surface?"
Widget herself hopped on the line to answer that.
"Hard to say, sir, but based on the distance to the surface, I'd have to guess a couple of hours."
"Outstanding," Coeur said, "Stick close to Whiz Sang corporal. Some Of these people may still be unfriendly."
"Idon't know about that, sir—mostly they seemconfused. But I'll stick close to Whiz Bang, like you say."
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