Death Machines - Ghost Book II

by Mike Stackpole

  "Precisely, sir."

  And so we did. We ran from it when it charged, and fired at it when we could, and after several decades we finally wore the big bastard down. It was terrifying and exhausting, but not what you'd call exciting. More mind-numbing. Still, it was damn satisfying when it finally tipped over on one side and smoke started leaking from all its joints.

  We edged around the thing and broke into the fourth station. By that time, I was awake enough again to watch Angie turn the key and wait with the others for something to happen. For a long second, nothing did, and I could see the others start to get nervous, then the button finally came on and a female voice spoke from a speaker.

  "Safety Procedure 1342-666 initiated."

  Before we could figure out what that meant, the door to the chamber slid shut, locking us in. It was polished steel. We could see our frightened faces in it.

  "What the fuck?" snarled Hell-Razor.

  We looked around, expectant, but nothing else happened. The button pulsed a soothing green. The air conditioning dried our sweat. That was it.

  "So now what?" asked Ace. "Are we supposed to push the button?"

  "And have the base blow up while we're trapped in here?" asked Hell Razor. "Fuck that."

  "It's fine," I said, aiming the meson cannon at the door. "I'll just melt through the door."

  I held down the trigger and started drawing a door-sized square on the door, but before I got more than a yard, everybody else started screaming and diving for cover. The meson beam was bouncing off the door like a sun ray on a mirror - and shooting right back at us! I ate linoleum and the violet death went over my head to scorch the rock wall behind me.

  When the light faded we all looked up. The door didn't have a mark on it.

  "And a hand grenade won't work either," said Hell Razor. "There's no place to duck and cover. We'll blow ourselves to pieces."

  "So we're dead either way," said Vargas. "Terrific. Well..." He slapped the console's glowing green button. "Might as well get it over with."

  Everybody yelped and shouted at him, but then the female voice filled the room again. "Sequence violated. Procedure aborted."

  Behind us, the door slid open.

  Angie blew out a relieved breath and glared at Vargas. "What the fuck, Snake? Ghost's craziness rubbin' off on you?"

  He gave her a weak shrug. "What else were we gonna do?"

  "And what are we gonna do now?" I asked. "I don't get how this thing works."

  Ace chewed his lip. "I think I've got it. Half of it at least. A base this important, they weren't gonna let some nut job just run around and blow it to pieces, so I'm guessing each of the terminals needs someone to punch a button. They probably have to be hit in the right sequence and in a set amount of time - faster than one guy could run to all four rooms. And if the buttons aren't pushed correctly, nothing happens."

  Angie nodded. "Okay, but what's the right order?"

  Thrasher cleared his throat. "The name of the procedure is 1342-666. I'm guessing we hit 'em that sequence, one, three, four, two."

  "So what does the 666 stand for," I asked.

  Ace raised an eyebrow. "The hell that will be unleashed."

  "Oh, yeah. That." I should have got that, but I wasn't exactly with it just then.

  "Right," said Vargas. "Chances are we all die the second that last button is punched. I need to know you all understand that. We all good?"

  "Where was that speech three minutes ago?" drawled Hell Razor.

  "I'm making up for it," said Vargas. "Are we good?"

  Everybody nodded.

  "Right," said Vargas. "So, who's pushing which button?"

  "Ace and me will stay here at four," said Angie.

  "I'll take one," said Hell Razor.

  "I'll take two," said Thrasher.

  "And I'll take three," I said.

  "As will I, sir," said Vax.

  "Givin' me nothin' to do, huh?" Vargas chuckled. "Alright, I'll watch the door that leads to the ladder, just in case the robots get through it before you're done. Ghost, gimme that meson cannon."

  I handed it over and we scattered to our appointed stations and called in on our walkies.

  "In position room three," I said.

  "In position room two," came Thrasher's voice.

  "I'm on one," said Hell Razor.

  "Room four ready when you are," said Angie.

  "Alright," said Vargas. "Here we go. It was an honor and a privilege and all that. Now let's do this. Hell Razor, fire one."

  "Firing."

  And he must have, because just then my console lit up and the door of the little room slammed shut behind me and Vax.

  Above us, the female voice said, "Safety Procedure 1342-666 initiated. Stage One protocol accepted."

  "Ghost," called Vargas. "Fire three."

  "On it."

  I punched the green button.

  "Safety Procedure 1342-666. Stage Two protocol accepted."

  "Angie?"

  "Firing."

  "Safety Procedure 1342-666. Stage Three protocol accepted."

  "Alright, Thrasher. Take us to hell."

  "Firing."

  "Safety Procedure 1342-666. Stage Four protocol accepted," said the female voice. "Please enter the correct color sequence."

  A row of four buttons lit up on the console, blue, red, yellow, green.

  There was silence on the walkies. Finally Vargas spoke.

  "The correct what? What the hell is it talking about?"

  Behind me, Vax did the robot version of clearing his throat. "May I speak, sir?"

  "Sure, Vax," I said. "You got a funny story or something? Something to lighten the mood?"

  "No, sir, but I have the security protocol manual in my memory. I'm afraid it was written by humans, so it is somewhat confusing, but it says that the color sequence is red, yellow, green, blue."

  "But do we each enter the whole sequence into our console? Or does each room only get one color? And if so, which room gets which color?"

  "That is the confusing part sir."

  I raised my voice. "Did you hear that, Vargas?"

  "I heard."

  "So...?"

  Another long pause, then, "Fuck it. Let's start with the obvious first. One color per room, same order as the numbers. Hell Razor, push red."

  "Sure. Pushed it."

  We held our breath, but there was no response from the computer voice. On the other hand, it didn't abort the sequence either.

  "Okay," said Vargas. "Ghost, hit yellow."

  I punched the yellow button. "Done."

  "Angie, hit green."

  "Got it."

  "Thrasher..."

  "Yeah, blue. Got it."

  We waited. Nothing. Vargas grunted over the walkie. "Well, shit. I guess we try agai—"

  "Self destruct countdown begun," said the computer voice. "All personnel evacuate the building immediately."

  The console in front of me began flashing a warning message and countdown clock. "Base destruction imminent," it read. "You have 01:00:00 to leave the facility."

  Laughter came over the walkie.

  "Okay," said Angie. "That's a bit of an anti-climax."

  "What?" said Vargas. "What happened?"

  "We got us an hour to get out of here," said Hell Razor. "So much for goin' out in a blaze of glory."

  "More like a walk in the park," said Angie.

  "Ha!" said Vargas. "All right. Get back here and we'll—"

  A grinding roar interrupted him, followed by gunfire.

  "Oh shit!" Vargas shouted. "Incoming! Incoming!"

  Vax and I sprinted for the central hall. The robots had finally made it through the titanium steel door.

  ***

  There was no getting through them.

  Cochise might have been a day late and a dollar short when it came to stopping us from killing it, but that wasn't going to stop it from trying to take us with it, and it poured everything it had left through that door.

&
nbsp; Then rest of us found Vargas backing around a corner under heavy fire. We ran to him before the robots could get a bead on us, then trained all our guns on the corner and kept up a withering fire as they tried to come around it. There were too many. We barely slowed them down.

  "Vax!" I shouted. "Please tell me there's a secret way out of here and that it's behind us, not on the other side of those death machines!"

  "There is indeed an exit behind us, sir, but the probability of making an escape through it before you were cut down by your enemies is approximately four point five percent."

  "And what is the probability of fighting our way out the way we came in?" asked Angie.

  "Zero percent, madam," said Vax.

  "Then four point five sounds like a winner," said Vargas. "Get us there, Vax!"

  "With pleasure, sir. This way, as quickly as you can."

  We ran after him with the horde of robots surging after us like a metal flood. Lasers burned trenches in the walls around us and left smoking scars in our armor. Bullets staggered us and knocked us sideways, and choppers and pincers and rotating saws clanged and snapped at our heels.

  Vax led us to a room we'd already been in before - the robot maintenance facility - and threw open the door. We charged through single file as energy beams and lead slugs zipped by all around us. Vax fused the door shut behind us, then pointed to the far corner of the room, opposite the little key receptacle room, as the robots began battering the door from the other side.

  "There is an air-conditioning duct in that corner that—"

  He cut off as Thrasher suddenly fell over.

  We all looked down at him. There was blood pooling on the floor under his left knee.

  "Sorry," he said. "Sorry."

  We looked closer. Something had found a crack in his shin armor and blown it open. His knee and lower leg were chopped meat inside a metal shell.

  "Jesus, Beto!" said Vargas. "What happened?"

  "Damn," said Hell Razor.

  "Why didn't you say something?" asked Angie.

  Thrasher swallowed. He was white and sweating with shock. "Just happened," he said. "Coming through the door."

  Vargas cursed. "Alright. Get that greave off. We gotta tie that off. Vax, keep talking."

  "Yes sir," said Vax, as Hell Razor and Vargas started tearing at the armor's releases. "The duct leads to the exterior, but it is very narrow and once you enter it you will be entirely vulnerable to attacks from behind."

  "We're going to get our asses shot to pieces, you mean," I said.

  "Yes sir," said Vax. "And with Mr. Gilbert's injury slowing down the group, I now calculate your chances of escaping at no more than point six percent."

  "I'll stay behind," said Thrasher, as Ace finished tying off his leg just above the knee. "Prop me up and I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

  "Which will be about all of five seconds," I said. "No. I'll be the one. Me and Vax, right Vax?

  "I am yours to command, sir," said Vax.

  The others looked at me, thankful and embarrassed at the same time. I could see it didn't sit well with their consciences to be glad it was me who was volunteering. But they weren't going to contradict me either.

  "You... you sure, Ghost?" asked Angie, which was nice of her.

  "Oh yeah," I said. "For a minute there it looked like I might have a future worth livin' for, but really, ever since I woke up on that slab the world has been tellin' me that I shoulda stayed dead. I'm the echo of an echo. Time to let it fade."

  Vargas gripped my shoulder. "You're doin' his memory proud. A ranger to the end."

  "Beyond the end," said Angie.

  "If he can hold 'em up," said Hell Razor.

  I shrugged. "We'll manage. There's good cover behind all these machines. Leave us all the laser rifles and charge packs and hand grenades you can spare, and they won't get past us."

  "They'll be through the door any moment, sir," said Vax.

  "Right," I said. "You all better move."

  Vargas nodded. "I guess we better."

  Angie gave me a hug. Hell Razor and Ace shook my hand, then helped Thrasher up. He did the same. Vargas saluted. Then they handed me and Vax all the gear they could spare, wished us luck, and crossed the room to the air vent while we found the best cover we could. I checked the door. It was practically bent in half. It wouldn't last thirty seconds.

  I looked back. Angie and Ace were already gone, and Vargas and Hell Razor were stuffing Thrasher into the duct like they were trying to plug it. He was so big he nearly didn't fit.

  For some reason my throat closed up as I watched them. I shouted to clear it. "Get going, assholes!"

  "Yeah, yeah," said Vargas. "We're gone."

  He climbed into the duct, pushing Thrasher ahead of him, then Hell Razor shoved in after him. Vax had been right. If the robots caught them in there they'd die like rats in a drainpipe.

  A deafening clang brought my head around. The door was flying across the room and the robots were streaming in after it. I heaved a hand grenade into the first ones in, then shouldered the meson cannon as it blew them to bits.

  "Get ready, Vax," I shouted. "Here they come!"

  "Just as you say, sir," Vax called back. "Here they do indeed come."

  I laughed. Holding off an onslaught of death machines with a robot who had better manners than any human I'd ever met.

  What a life.

  A joke from start to finish.

  Chapter Eleven

  High on a neighboring hilltop, shielded from the explosion's full fury, the rangers watched as fire and ruin claimed Base Cochise. The blast hadn't just blown up the facility, it had vaporized the entire top of the plateau. The trees on the surrounding hills had been blown flat and burned like matchsticks before they vanished in the billowing cloud of dust that rapidly expanded to cloak the whole area. Soon, all that could be seen of the facility was a boiling brown fog with a white-hot glow at its center.

  "No way Ghost survived that," said Angie as she bandaged Thrasher's leg.

  "No," said Vargas. "I'm sorry."

  Angie shrugged, then wiped her nose. Then her eyes.

  "He was wrong about himself though," said Ace. "He wasn't just an echo of an echo. He was a good man in his own right."

  "And a hell of a ranger," said Hell Razor. "Right to the end."

  "Just not the ranger we knew," said Thrasher.

  "We oughta give him a proper retirement party this time," said Angie. "That last one he had kinda kicked him in the teeth I think."

  "Good idea," said Vargas. He squinted into the still-expanding cloud. "I just hope that malignant motherfucker AI died with him. Fucking thing almost ended all life on earth."

  "Don't worry," said Hell Razor. "Unless it somehow slipped out the back door when we weren't lookin', that mainframe is as dead as week-old road kill. Looks like we saved the world."

  "For now," said Thrasher.

  Vargas laughed. "Always the optimist, ain't you, Beto?"

  He tucked his shoulder under Thrasher's arm to support him. "Fall in, rangers," he said. "Long walk back to Ranger Center."

  "And a shit-ton of paperwork when we get there," said Angie.

  The rangers turned and started south, with the black column of smoke rising from base Cochise like a funeral pyre behind them.

  THE END

  About the Authors

  Michael A. Stackpole is an award-winning game designer, computer game designer and novelist in the science fiction and fantasy field. He is best known for his work in FASA’s BattleTech® universe and for his Star Wars® X-wing comics (from Dark Horse Comics) and bestselling Star Wars® novels from Bantam Books.

  Photo by Heather Hill.

  Nathan Long is a screen and prose writer, with two movies, One Saturday-Morning Adventure series, and a handful of live-action and animated TV episodes to his name, as well as eleven fantasy novels and several award-winning short stories. He hails from Pennsylvania, where he grew up, went to school, and played in var
ious punk and rock-a-billy bands, before following his writing dreams to Hollywood, where he now writes full time - and still occasionally plays in bands.