by Isaac Hooke
She reached a T intersection and pied both sides with her blaster. Clear. Thanks to the military data in her Implant, Shaw already had the blueprints available for this particular class of ship, and she overlaid them with her overhead map, filling out the black “fog of war” regions. According to that data, the brig would be to the left.
Assuming that was where Zhidao actually kept Rade...
The klaxon sounded repeatedly in the background, with that annoying computer voice announcing the presence of an intruder every minute or so. The alarm lights were placed at regular intervals along the passageway, and continued to rotate, bathing the corridor in red every complete revolution.
She arrived at another breach seal and made short work of it with her plasma rifle. She ducked to the side as soon as she had formed a hole, and then careful pied the opening. There were no robots waiting beyond.
She enlarged the hole with the plasma rifle, waited for the edges to cool, and then pulled herself through to continue onward.
The deck shuddered for a moment and Shaw wondered if the ship was taking external fire. Maybe the other Hoplites had arrived. She could only hope.
She should be coming in range of Rade’s Implant, soon. Sure enough, as she had the thought, his blue dot appeared on her overhead map, aligned with the brig up ahead.
“Rade, do you read?” she tried. “Rade?”
He didn’t answer. That was troubling.
She lost contact with Nemesis shortly thereafter. The comm node aboard the Hoplite was only moderately more powerful than the node in a jumpsuit, and could only penetrate the thick bulkheads so far.
She shot through another breach seal without encountering resistance, and switched back to her blaster as she approached a T intersection. The brig, and Rade, was located halfway down the passage on the right.
Before she reached the intersection, a Centurion leaped out from the right-hand branch and caught her by surprise. It wielded a pipe of some kind, and batted aside her blaster, sending it spiraling into the bulkhead beside her. And then the combat robot was on her, its limbs a blur as it repeatedly bashed her suit with that metal implement in staccato rapid-fire.
She managed to grab the pipe with her left arm; meanwhile, she unleashed several quick blows into the robot’s neck region with her right glove in an attempt to punch the head off. Didn’t work.
The robot hooked a foot underneath her and she tripped, landing hard on her side. The Centurion landed on top of her, discarded the pipe, and followed up with a flurry of fist blows to her faceplate that were designed to break through the translucent polycarbonate. The pane quickly spidered.
Shaw slammed both arms up across her face and pushed the robot off of her, but it grabbed her wrist and hoisted her into the air, slamming her first into the left bulkhead and then the right. It was about to slam her back against the left when she fired off her jetpack, dragging the robot down the passageway.
The robot dug its feet into the bulkhead beside them, halting the forward motion, and then wrapped a hand around her jetpack intake. Before the robot could crush it, she vented thrust sideways, crashing into the bulkhead, and the Centurion. She cut off the flow and she and the robot crashed to the deck.
She rolled away, hitting the far bulkhead almost immediately thanks to her bulky suit. Still lying down, she slid the plasma rifle from her shoulder and let off a shot as the robot came at her. Another shot. The robot’s right arm and upper chest melted away.
But that didn’t stop it. It grabbed the rifle before she could fire a third shot and wrenched it away. Then it began to beat her with the stock as she lay on the deck. It concentrated on her helmet.
Shaw dodged the first two blows, and raised her hands to shield herself with her gloves for the following impacts. Even through the thick fabric she felt the blows, but the adrenalin dulled any pain she might have otherwise felt.
Shaw slid her leg to the side—she was the one tripping the robot this time. After the Centurion came crashing down, she shoved her last grenade into the robot’s melted arm section. She fired the reverse thrust on her jetpack at the same time, accelerating away. She cut the flow and turned her back on the robot so that the bulky jetpack would hopefully shield her, and then she detonated the grenade remotely.
The explosion rocked the passageway. Shrapnel struck her jetpack, and a notice appeared on her HUD:
Warning. Jetpack intake valves severed. Jetpack is disabled.
She glanced at the robot. Or rather, its wreckage. It definitely wouldn’t be attacking her again.
She wondered why Zhidao had sent it in without a proper weapon. And then she realized the Purple probably wanted to capture her alive. Most likely to taunt and torture her.
Evil bastard.
She doffed her useless jetpack, glad to be free of the extra bulk that came with it. She’d lost her stun rifle in the scuffle, and she spotted it beside the plasma rifle near the wreckage of the robot. She hoped neither weapon had been harmed in the explosion. Her blaster was still near the intersection up ahead, where the Centurion had batted it away.
Before she could do anything further, another robot came dashing around the T intersection and headed directly toward her. This one carried an unfriendly-looking hammer.
twenty-seven
Shaw reacted immediately, and instinctively dashed toward the robot. She leaped to the side at the last moment and activated the super magnets in her boots to take three gravity-defying steps along the bulkhead past the robot. Without the bulk of the jetpack, she was able to clear the Centurion without touching it; she pushed off from the bulkhead, swung her foot around, and booted the Centurion in the back of the head in one of her signature moves. The robot stumbled forward.
She landed at a crouch and momentum slid her backward along the deck a full meter; the blaster was within reach beside her. She dove toward it, scooped the weapon up, and fired into the AI core of the robot as it rushed her.
The Centurion toppled with a big bore hole perforating its chest piece.
Shaw scrambled to her feet, fired one last confirmation shot into the robot’s core, and then stepped past it to retrieve the rifles near the other wreckage. Neither weapon had taken any shrapnel damage as far as she could tell, and according to her HUD, both were still functional.
She stowed the weapons onto her shoulder and approached the T intersection with her blaster, first pieing the right-hand side, since that was where the robots had come from, and then the left. It seemed safe. She moved into the corridor quickly, and once more checked both sides. Still clear.
She hurried to the brig. The door was sealed, and she proceeded to melt it with the plasma rifle. She could see Rade inside, lying on the floor.
On no.
His jumpsuit had been partially ripped away, and the rest of the suit was in tatters. He was unconscious.
She quickly enlarged the hole in the door, making it wide enough to fit Rade as well, in case she had to drag him out of there.
Without waiting for the edges of the hole to cool, she dashed inside and went to him. She knelt beside her love and lifted him into her arms.
“Rade,” Shaw said, using the external speakers. “My life. My love.”
He didn’t answer. His breath came in ragged gasps. She saw cuts, welts and bruises along the skin, and realized he had been beaten to within a centimeter of his life. A hardpoint on one of his shoulders had been yanked out entirely, revealing an ugly red wound in his flesh.
The robots had done this. There was a reason they were equipped with bludgeoning weapons... she was filled with a sudden rage, and was very happy she had reduced them to piles of scrap metal. While she was relieved Rade had no steel bar attached to his back, what had been done to him was inexcusable. Zhidao would pay for this.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, from the deck beside her purple liquid oozed forth. Shaw gasped, and quickly pulled Rade away, not wanting that deadly liquid to incinerate him. It was lucky she had been so close to Rad
e: she had no doubt Zhidao intended to destroy him, but the Phant-repelling properties of her suit had saved him.
She set Rade down on the bunk nearby and swung down her stun rifle, but before she could fire it the liquid bubbled back into the deck.
“That’s right, run, you bastard,” Shaw said.
She hoisted Rade into her arms and fled the compartment.
“We have to get you to sickbay,” she told him.
Still unconscious, Rade didn’t answer.
Even with her suit to augment her strength, he was still heavy, and soon she had to lower him to the deck and drag him along behind her by the arms instead. It was slightly disrespectful to the man she loved, she thought, but it was the only way she could get him to sickbay in any reasonable time. She used the blueprints on her overhead map to guide her.
She had to blast through another breach seal along the way, and then through the sickbay hatch itself. She encountered no further resistance from the robots.
She set Rade down on an operating table, removed his tattered jumpsuit, and then wheeled one of the Weavers into place beside him.
She was worried the Weavers would refuse to treat him, but thankfully the machine soon whirred into action, its telescoping limbs blurring across him, scanning him as part of the initial diagnosis. That was good, because it meant their Machine Constitutions hadn’t been disabled, and they would treat him, even if he was an intruder.
“Do you have a diagnosis?” Shaw asked.
“He has several broken bones, and bruising to the dermis,” the Weaver answered. “He also has a concussion, with swelling to the brain. I am injecting a solution to reduce the capillary seepage. I will also manually drain some of the fluid to relieve brain compression.”
One metal limb applied a sonic injector to his arm, while another telescoped forward, each segment smaller than the last, until it pierced the back of Rade’s neck. A small, flexible tube was connected to the underside of that limb. She knew an even smaller version of that tube would be passing underneath his skull at that very moment, heading toward the affected area.
A thick red fluid soon seeped upward through the tube as the Weaver drained the injury.
Shaw kept watch with her stun rifle as the robot worked. She was more than ready to fire at Zhidao if he appeared again.
Finally the tube became clear and the limb extracted.
“When is he going to be conscious?” Shaw said.
“Soon,” the Weaver replied.
She waited for him to wake up. After about thirty seconds, with Rade still lying there in a coma, Shaw said: “How soon are we talking?”
“Hey babe.” Rade opened his eyes and looked at her. “Ah, now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Literally.”
Shaw was speechless. She’d never felt so happy in her life. She leaned over and tried to kiss him, but succeeded only in bouncing her faceplate off his lips.
“Whoops,” she said.
“Hey there, slow down sailor,” Rade said, rubbing his mashed lips.
“My big warrior,” she finally managed. She blinked away the tears that had come to her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to get emotional. Rade needed her. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“And I’m glad you are, too,” Rade said.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“Like I’ve been run over by a grav tram.” Rade glanced at the telescoping limbs of the robot. “Hey Weaver, can you inject me with a pick-me-up? I really need to get on my feet.”
One of the Weaver’s limbs telescoped to apply a sonic injector to his bicep. “Stimulant has been supplied.”
“Thank you.” Rade attempted to sit up... his lips curled into a rictus of pain, and he ground his jaw.
“You have broken bones!” Shaw said.
When Rade continued trying to rise, she held out an arm to help him. With her support he was finally able to sit up.
“Looks like it’s not just my eyes that are sore.” He touched his side and flinched. He looked at Shaw. “Broken bones, you say? Ribs definitely have some issues. We’re still aboard the Volare I take it?”
She nodded. “We are. Can you walk?”
Rade pursed his lips. “Think so.” He slid off the bed with her help and attempted to stand on both feet. He inhaled with a hiss and immediately shifted his weight to the right leg. “Can’t put much weight on my left foot, though.”
“Weaver?” Shaw asked.
“His left leg is fractured at the tibia,” the Weaver said.
“Through the jumpsuit?” she asked in disbelief. “Can you heal the bone?”
“Yes,” the Weaver said. “But I will need half an hour.”
“A quick splint will do,” Shaw said.
“I will have to set the bone first,” the Weaver said.
“Fine, but no sedatives,” Rade said.
Shaw lowered Rade onto the operating table again and then the Weaver set to work. She stood guard once more with the stun rifle.
Zhidao’s voice came over the sickbay’s intercom. “You humans are so predictable, so malleable.” It wasn’t the old Ms. Bounty speaking, but rather the voice Zhidao had used the last time he had held her hostage: male, Sino-Korean accented, with a tinny, mechanical undertone. Most likely the Purple had taken control of the Volare’s AI.
“I’ve already flown this vessel out of the asteroid,” Zhidao continued. “Right in front of your friends. Their ship could have easily shot me down, but guess what? They chose to target our engines only. They know you two are aboard. Or they know Shaw is, anyway. You functioned as my human shields. Ah humanity. Like I said, predictable. They’re still dragging the asteroid away, of course, so they can’t intervene. Did I mention they took out the engines?”
“You did,” Rade said, obviously annoyed.
“Yes,” Zhidao said. “Well, they only destroyed one of them. That, and the Vipers.” Shaw remembered when the deck had shuttered earlier. “I managed to fire off the rest of my Hellfires, causing them some damage, too. And of course in the process I severed one of the carbon fiber cords they’re using to tow the asteroid.”
“They’ll get it repaired,” Rade said. “They won’t let you Phants lead another species to extinction.”
“Maybe,” Zhidao said. “Either way, by taking out one of my engines, they obviously intended to slow the Volare.”
“That’s right.” Rade gritted his teeth as the Weaver set his bone. “They’ll run you down and board the ship as soon as they’ve redirected the last asteroid.”
“Or so they believe,” Zhidao said. His voice sounded mocking. “Because you see, Rade Galaal”—he said those words with such spite—”I have no intention of letting your friends do that. They won’t run me down. I’m flying, limping perhaps, but still flying, toward the planet. By slowing me your friends have only killed you and your woman. The Volare will burn up upon reentry. Meanwhile, I will take the ship’s only shuttle away from here and survive.”
“They’ll hunt down your shuttle,” Rade said. “You’re wasting your time. A starship is way faster.”
“But a shuttle is also very much smaller,” Zhidao said. “I’ve installed several stealth additions to this shuttle of mine. I plan to shut off the engines as soon as I’ve achieved my desired speed and trajectory. Without life support to maintain, and the thermal seepage that goes along with it, your friends will never detect me. I’ll coast right past them.”
“I didn’t see a shuttle in the hangar bay when I arrived,” Shaw said.
“That’s the ancillary hangar bay,” Zhidao said. “Check your blueprints. There is also a main hangar bay.”
She checked. Zhidao was right.
“Good-bye,” the alien said.
“To hell with you as well,” Rade said.
Zhidao didn’t answer.
The Weaver finished wrapping Rade’s lower leg in a polycarbonate brace, and Shaw helped him stand. He still couldn’t put very much weight on the foot, so Shaw gave him her shoulder to act as
a crutch. With her help, he was able to walk, limping, into the passageway outside. Shaw gave Rade the plasma rifle to carry with his free hand. She kept the stun rifle for herself, hanging from her opposite shoulder.
Even without his boots Rade was taller than her, so he had to hunch down against her shoulder. It certainly put a lot of pressure on that joint.
“We have to get to the hangar bay,” Shaw said. “My Hoplite is there.”
“Oh, by the way,” Zhidao’s voice came again over the intercom. “Nemesis is no longer aboard.”
“What are you talking about?” Shaw said. “And I thought you left already!”
“Still here,” Zhidao taunted. “And regarding the mech: I opened up the hangar bay doors, fired a grappling hook from the shuttle, and hauled your Hoplite outside, well beyond the return range of its jumpjets. You’re trapped aboard a sinking ship. Ta-ta!”
“I don’t believe you,” Shaw said.
But Zhidao didn’t answer.
She glanced at Rade. “It can’t be true.”
“Let’s try the evac station first, just in case,” Rade said. “It looks close.”
“All right,” Shaw said. “But it’s unnerving, not knowing how much time we have until the Volare begins atmospheric entry.”
“All the more reason to do this quickly,” Rade said.
Using the blueprints, Shaw led him toward the only evac station aboard. It was fairly close, admittedly. Still, that didn’t mean they would be leaving the ship: it was possible the Volare’s AI would deny them access to the lifepods there. Or maybe Zhidao had sabotaged the pods outright, or launched them all.
She and Rade moved as fast as they could. Together, their combined body width almost filled the entire breadth of the passageway: he was almost as wide without a jumpsuit as she was with one.