by Scott Baron
“He’s nice, until it’s time to not be nice,” Tamara said.
“Basically. Sarge could have gone the mustang route and become an officer ages ago, if not for the restrictions.”
“I’m sorry. I am unfamiliar with military protocols. What restrictions were imposed on the sergeant?” Jonathan asked.
“Old rules from a prejudiced time, Johnny. You see, no matter how good a job he did, no matter how many asses he dragged out of a firefight or over a hill, my kind, our kind, are simply not allowed to become officers. A human holdout to the days of segregating us from decision-making roles.”
“That sucks. Things have changed,” Tamara grumbled.
“Yes, they have. But you have to remember, I’m talking about the world we lived in hundreds of years ago. That was a long time ago, and a totally different set of circumstances.”
“And now, here we are, a bunch of post-apocalyptic survivors, trudging along underground toward the dark unknown.”
“Only we do know what’s up there,” Duke noted. “Thick cables, heavy shielding, and, of course, multiple access panels to interconnect new bases and equipment as it gets added to the network.”
“I was wondering about that,” Tamara said. “Why would such a secure facility have a vulnerability like that?”
“Oh, the access is heavily camouflaged. Really, it was designed as much for covert entry when the main doors were under attack as it was for data transfer. It just happens to accomplish both tasks.”
“But camouflage can only do so much.”
The metal man laughed.
“Oh, trust me, there are plenty of mechanisms besides the explosives to safeguard it,” Duke said, stepping over a coil of data cable as thick as his arm.
“Explosives?”
“Don’t worry, Joshua deactivated them when he sent us out. The others? Well, we’ll be dealing with a few of them pretty soon, once we get to the surface.”
It was another solid fifteen minutes of uphill trekking before they hit the first hefty door. The metal looked to be over two feet thick, part of a multiple component airlock system.
Tamara noticed the fat pipe data cables that rose from the poured concrete, like a powerful whale briefly coming up for air, only in this instance, it was data, not air, that was sought.
“So, these look like the right cables.”
“Oh yeah. Those are the fat pipes, all right. Nothing else on the continent even comes close. You know, Joshua could probably damn near run the entire country over these babies if he had to.”
“That’s one big pipe,” Tamara marveled.
“The biggest. We’re talking a data fire hose.”
“Then let’s get them linked back in and move on.”
“Not so easy,” the metal man replied. “This is where it gets interesting.”
“Um, interesting?”
“Oh yeah. Time to pay attention.”
“Why do I think I’m not going to like this?” Tamara sighed, shaking her head.
Duke’s body language shifted to a decidedly combat posturing, which was not lost on her.
“The junction we need to reconnect is in the outer chamber. It’s not outside the network, but it’s the first subterranean space you would access when entering from the outside. This streamlines the rapid hookup process if need arises.”
“I sense an ‘and’ coming any time now.”
“And, it is protected in case of intrusion.”
“So why don’t we just disconnect the defenses? We’re already on the inside, after all,” Tamara noted.
“If only it were so easy,” he replied. “The problem is, that particular part of the system is designed to protect the access hub from any and all intruders in the event that Joshua is cut off from it.”
“But he isn’t really cut off. He had the lines broken himself.”
“The cannons don’t know that.”
Tamara paused and threw a sideways glance at him.
“Did you say cannons?”
“Yep.”
“In an enclosed space?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you can’t shut them off?”
“Nope. Cutting off the hardlines triggered their activation. Now, nothing short of a total reset from Joshua––once he is tied in again––will make them stand down.”
“And to tie him in, we first need to avoid said cannons, correct?”
“Now you’ve got it.”
“Jesus, Duke, you’re really not making this any easier, ya know.”
“It gets better.”
“Oh, for cryin’ out––what else?”
“Until Joshua is able to run a hard reset, the cannons will stay active.”
“And how long does that reset take?”
“On a good day?”
“As if we would be so lucky.”
“Okay. On a day when Murphy is cornholing our mission, I’d estimate about an hour.”
“So you’re saying we have to avoid or disable those cannons while we try to reconnect the lines, then we have to stay out of range for an hour until they can be reset. Awesome.”
“That’s the spirit!”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“So was I. That darn enhanced neurological makeup just keeps rearing its ugly head, doesn’t it?” he said with a low chuckle.
Despite the daunting task, Tamara couldn’t help but smile. Soon enough, it would be wiped from her face.
“I said, how many rounds do these things have?” Tamara yelled over the echoing boom of the automated defense cannons as they tore up the chamber, pivoting rapidly on their electric gimbals at the slightest hint of motion.
“Well, let’s just say that they’ve got far more ammo than we have time,” her cybernetic companion called back.
The guns finally fell silent, lacking motion to track as the team stayed firmly tucked behind cover. They had utilized an equipment mover to initially provide cover from the barrage as they reconnected one of the three large data lines, but they were now pinned down, stuck in place lest they be shredded into little pieces.
“I seem to be hit,” Jonathan said in a calm voice.
Tamara turned to look at the metal man, where he lay hidden a mere twenty feet away. Indeed, it appeared as though a round had punched clean through his abdomen area. Fortunately, nothing vital appeared to have been damaged, though he would definitely need some substantial repairs once they were finally clear of the deadly guns.
“You’re gonna be all right, Jonathan,” Tamara called out. “It’s superficial. Stay low, and we’ll get you out of there.”
“Oh, I am still fully functional. I just thought it would be helpful to note the unexpected damage I incurred.”
“Well, in that case, keep your head down and all your shiny bits tucked behind that thing.”
“That was my intention, Tamara,” the soft-spoken cyborg replied.
The three smoking cannons were deceptively silent, the thin wisps of burned cordite wafting from their barrels the only evidence of their recent life.
While they had managed to tie in the nearest of the three huge data cables, that was only made possible by their proximity to the interior access tunnel they had arrived from.
All the way across the thirty square meter chamber, the other two lines––one end of them still actively connected to Joshua’s systems––were simply too far to reach while maintaining any semblance of an intact body.
“This ain’t looking too good, Duke. What do you think?” Tamara asked, her voice echoing in the now-silent room.
“We never say quit,” the robust cyborg replied. “But in this circumstance, I’m inclined to agree with your assessment. We got one of the three data lines tied back in. I think we’ll have to do our best to get out of here and hope Joshua can regain some degree of control of the defenses via just one uplink.”
“What does Joshua say?”
The metal soldier paused, attempting to send a wireless message.
“The shielding is too thick here. We either need to make it to the comms port near the big door,” he said, nodding toward the thick exit point to the outside. “Or we get back into the tunnel behind us and I tap in to the comms down the tunnel by the blast doors.”
“I think I like option two better,” Tamara grimly joked.
“I am inclined to agree with Tamara’s assessment,” Jonathan agreed.
“Yeah. Not looking like we have much of a choice,” Duke noted. “The only problem is, we’ve got to somehow get back to the tunnel, but this thing,” he said, banging the metal hide of their formerly mobile cover, “is basically kaput. We’re going to need to find a way of moving it with its wheels shot out on the other side.”
Try as they might, they were unable to make the hefty equipment mover so much as budge. The same immense bulk that had protected them from armor-piercing rounds was now stymieing their escape.
“Is there any way to signal the others to come help us out?”
“Negative. No wireless can get out of these walls. I’m sorry to say, Tamara, but we’re on our own.”
“Well, shit.”
“Excuse me,” Jonathan said. “I know I am not a tactical unit, and please forgive me if my suggestion is a foolish one, but I believe I may have an idea.”
“Spit it out, bud. What’re you thinking?” Duke asked.
“Well, it seemed to me that we were possibly coming at this from a might over mind perspective. No offense,” he hastily added.
“None taken,” Duke said with a little laugh. “What’s the idea?”
“I was thinking, instead of attempting to move this obviously immobile vehicle, it might be better to make a run for it on foot. We’ve only come ten meters into the chamber, and the most-distant cannon appears to be unable to target us from its position.”
“The one closest to the external door. Yeah, we’re out of its line of fire,” Tamara said. “But the other two have got the drop on us.”
“I’m afraid Tamara’s right. We make a break for it, we’re toast.”
“But if there were a diversion, we might have a few-second gap in which we could possibly make it to the clear.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have anything to use for a distraction,” Duke noted.
“Not in our packs, no,” Jonathan agreed. “But I may be able to solve that issue.”
He rolled up his sleeve, then placed his forearm flat on the ground.
“I am powering the peripheral boost energy stores in this hand to maximum capacity, and have implanted a short-loop movement directive to the digits.”
“What are you saying, Jonathan?” Tamara asked.
“Holy shit. Are you fucking kidding me?” Duke said. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. I can be repaired later, should we survive.”
“Care to fill me in?”
He turned to Tamara.
“This crazy bastard is offering to give us a hand.”
“I know, I heard him offer to help.”
“No. Literally a hand.”
“Hang on. What?”
“My body is, as you have both noted, far weaker than Duke’s reinforced endoskeleton. As such, if we strike the attaching joint with enough force, we should be able to sever my hand from my arm.”
“And why would you do that?” Tamara asked. “There are plenty of things we can throw out there to try and distract the cannons. No need to chop off a hand for it.”
“No, Tamara, you don’t understand. Because I am a domestic service unit, I am often tasked with carrying sizable quantities of shopping and the like for long periods of time. Because of this work requirement, units of my model are designed with additional power cells for our hands, which are also equipped with more robust linkages than others. If we detach it from my body, it can act as a mobile distraction.”
“So you’re saying it has a mind of its own? Damn, Jonathan. You’re the first man to use that line and have it actually be true,” Tamara said with a wry grin.
“Technically, it doesn’t have a mind of its own, per se, but I am able to route a very basic command to its processors so it can perform that task while I dedicate my main processing units toward my other duties. In our present predicament, I thought it might come in handy.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Tamara asked.
“You know we domestic units aren’t made for that,” he replied, straight-faced. “Things might get out of hand, otherwise.”
Duke let out a hearty laugh.
“Shit, brother, you’re far more badass than I ever imagined,” he said, smacking the smaller cyborg on the shoulder as he pulled a hefty knife from his pack. “But we really need to work on those puns, right, LT?”
“Okay, enough with the bromance, you two," Tamara grumbled. "What’s the plan?”
“A fairly straightforward one, actually,” Jonathan said. “I embed the command, we cut off my hand, and when it takes off running––”
“In a serpentine pattern,” Duke interjected.
“Of course. When it takes off running, in a serpentine pattern, we wait for the cannons to adjust and target it, then we make our break for it.”
“Balls of steel, man,” Tamara said appreciatively. “I like it. Okay, then. Let’s do this.”
Jonathan looked up at Duke as he brandished his knife.
“I would advise you which linkages to target, but I assume you possess detailed schematics on cybernetic weak points, am I correct?”
“One hundred percent,” he replied. “Shall we?”
“Ready when you are.”
“Okay, then. On three.”
“Fellas, whatever happens, it’s been an honor working with you.”
“None of that, Lieutenant. We are going to make it out of here,” Duke stated, as if it were a decided fact. “Okay. One... Two... Three!”
Chapter Thirteen
Far above in the cold of space, the surface of the moon was quiet. At least, it seemed quiet. But Sid’s scanners were picking up the faintest hints of some rather unusual readings. Most disconcerting was the fact he couldn’t discern exactly what it was about them that felt off. It was something––he just didn’t know what.
The answer would have surprised him.
Freya, the powerful newborn AI genius living in the secret fabrication hangar outside the base’s perimeter, wasn’t worried about the others discovering her home. Even when she fired up the entirety of the facility’s massive array of machinery, the dampening technology built into the ultra-classified unit’s very foundation had more than adequately absorbed and stopped any vibrations from reaching the outside.
Being buried deep in the moon’s stone surface also didn’t hurt.
Like a curious youth left alone in a candy store––and bored and all alone––Freya had relished trying out the myriad devices now at her disposal. The top-secret toys were the cream of the crop and bleeding edge, and though she wasn’t actually authorized to use them, it had been child’s play for her rapidly expanding intellect to override what she saw as laughable security systems.
“Ooh, this is so cool!” she giggled to herself as she drastically reconfigured one of the composite materials fabricators. “Hang on a minute,” she muttered to herself as she flashed through nearly twenty thousand pages of nanotech research from the base’s restricted files in milliseconds. “Really? But it should work. I wonder why no one has tried this before?”
Perplexed, she fired up the machinery and began experimenting.
Sid, as well as the other AIs residing on Dark Side, were none the wiser.
“Mal,” Bob called over local comms, “I’ve found a rather dense pocket of what appear to be salvageable craft.”
“Is there a problem?” she replied.
“No problem. However I was thinking that if we take advantage of the current orbital pattern, you could assist in the retrieval of a sizable portion of them while in the minimal scan parameters for the Ra’az. What is your assessment?
”
“It seems like a feasible proposal. I’ll have the captain and Gustavo join me on board. We should rendezvous with you in approximately an hour.”
“Excellent!" Donovan chimed in. “It’ll be nice for Bob and me to have some company out here. This has been a really solid find. So much good salvage, and all in that Goldilocks zone where we can safely retrieve it.”
Something caught his eye.
“Hang on a second,” Donovan said. “Bob, you see something out there at two o’clock?” he asked, scanning the inky blackness.
“Nothing on my scans, Donovan. Why? Do you see something?”
The pilot strained his eyes a moment longer, then turned back to the control panel.
“Nah. I’ve just been staring out there so long, I keep thinking I see something.”
“I assure you, there’s nothing there out of the ordinary.”
“I’ll take your word for it, buddy,” he said with a little chuckle.
Freya––ever eavesdropping since she had cracked their comms encryption days prior––felt her proverbial ears perk up.
“That’s so cool! They’re doing a tandem retrieval.”
Her mood dampened moments later.
“Aww, man. I wish Daisy wasn’t making me stay hidden out here. It sounds like they’re going to have lots of fun.”
Reluctantly, the bored AI turned the majority of her attention back to the machinery, leaving the others to have fun without her. Of course, she kept the channel open regardless. Just because she couldn’t play didn’t mean she couldn’t listen, after all, and what the others were up to sounded like a really good time.
Down below in the partially deconstructed outskirts of Riverside, near Los Angeles, a lone Chithiid also had his ears wide open, ever careful as he spread word of a possible uprising.
“You must keep this information to yourself and only your most trusted men,” Craaxit said to the stocky alien in charge of the parts depot. “You know which comms band I will be using. If the plan is set in motion, I will notify all who back our cause with a timetable. What have you been able to amass so far?”
The depot-master looked carefully over his shoulders. Satisfied none were close enough to hear, he replied in a hushed voice.