Armada

by Paul Teague

  Then he looked again at the Mech that floated above the console, held in place by its own trailing guts. It spun gently, until Davies could see its head and the spot where an OctoBot had detached from the skull. Not good.

  And suddenly all he could hear was the light, metallic echo of magnetic OctoBot legs on metal as they scurried around, unseen in the darkened room.

  “We’re not alone in here,” whispered Davies.

  Then, to his side, there was movement on top of one of the units.

  An OctoBot came scrabbling along a surface. Davies scrambled for his rifle, but before he could bring it to bear, the OctoBot had leapt. Clearly these things had no trouble operating in zero-G.

  Davies turned, flailing in mid-air, and the thing missed his face. But it found his arm, and immediately took a firm grip.

  “Help,” squeaked Davies, tearing at the thing with his free hand, banging it hard against the side of a metal casing in an attempt to dislodge it.

  The OctoBot moved one of its legs, and a needle shot out of the end. It reminded Davies of the scorpions he’d seen at one of his cadet briefings. Their academy tutor had warned them to keep away from the creatures. The OctoBot had eight stings, and Davies didn’t fancy his chances.

  He smashed the creature on a wall and spun away as the needle retracted. He needed a knife or something to stab it with, but he’d loaded up with tech, ammunition and power rather than old-fashioned blades.

  For a moment, the OctoBot released all but two of its legs, easing the pressure on Davies’ arm. He flung it away, then bounced gently off the ceiling, steadying himself on a fitting with his free arm.

  The OctoBot banged off a console and disappeared. Davies tried to push himself in the other direction, aiming for the door out into the corridor.

  But he couldn’t get a good purchase on the ceiling, and then the OctoBot hit him in the chest, spinning him around. Davies yelped again as the creature scurried over his armour onto his face. He put one hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop the thing from smothering him. His other hand scrabbled at it as he tried to rip it away.

  “Davies, hold still, let me take the shot.”

  It was Conway. She must have followed them in. She was braced against the doorway, rifle aimed and a finger hovering over the trigger.

  “You’ll take my freaking head off,” he screamed as she steadied the weapon, waiting for a clear shot.

  “Trust me,” she said quietly, trying to calm him. “I’ve got your back.”

  “Like you had Gallagher’s?”

  The OctoBot had two needles ready to plunge deep into Davies’ skull, and its other six legs were edging around his skull, tightening their grip.

  “Hold still, dammit. To the side!”

  “Fuck,” he shouted in a muffled voice as the OctoBot squeezed. He could barely see, but he snatched at a mounting point on the ceiling and slewed to a halt, turning his head to give Conway a decently clear shot.

  There was a shot, then another, and the main weight of the OctoBot fell away, blasted free, leaving the legs clamped around Davies’ head.

  He clawed mindlessly at the legs, with no idea of which way was which or where Conway was. There was more gunfire, then sudden quiet. He opened his eyes and saw Conway still braced against the doorway, a cloud of gun smoke dispersing in front of her.

  Davies looked at her with a weak grin and started breathing once again.

  “If you ever mention Gallagher to me again like that, I’ll take your head off, Bot or no Bot. You hear me, Davies?”

  “Sorry. I’m a dickhead, I didn’t mean it. It was either say that or shit my pants. I should have just shit my pants.”

  “Collect your weapon, put your helmet back on, and get back to work.”

  Conway was pissed, really pissed. It had been a long time since Davies had seen her that way. He’d been out of order, and he knew it.

  Then there was a sudden electrical hum and the lamps came back on, bathing the room in light.

  “Argh!” said Davies as the gravity came on as well and he crashed to the floor. He rolled onto his back just in time to see Ten saunter through the doorway.

  “Gravity’s back,” he announced as Davis groaned. “Did I miss something?”

  Conway just shook her head.

  “We got a visit from our eight-legged friends,” said Davies. “Anyone else, or was it just me?”

  “We’ve seen a couple,” Gray replied. “But they’re going a bit crazy.”

  “Me too,” said Ten. “They’re like bats in a cave. I had a couple try to jump me, but the rest of them don’t seem to know I’m here. They’re all crawling up the inside of this thing and making their way to the ceiling area. They’re clustering there, completely still, just stuck on the ceiling.”

  “Seen that as well,” said Gray. “I had to kill a few that were on the walkways, but the others are just scuttling off.”

  “Probably waiting to ambush us,” said Jackson, “like drop-bears in Australia.”

  “Pretty sure that’s an urban myth,” said Conway, frowning.

  “Download’s complete,” said Davies quietly as he retrieved the dongle and refitted his helmet. “That’ll give us everything Hunter didn’t manage to snatch.”

  “What’s your plan, Ten?” Gray asked.

  “Backtrack to our position. We’ll stick together from here.”

  “We’ll cover less ground,” said Jackson. “Might not be able to find everything we need.”

  “Maybe,” agreed Ten, “but less chance of being ambushed.” He looked at Conway, who was glaring at him from within her helmet. “That okay with you, Corporal?”

  She snorted. “They’re as far outside my command chain as yours, Ten. Let’s just get the job done.”

  Ten nodded. “Roger.” He flicked open another channel. “You getting everything, Vengeance?”

  “Much clearer with the lights on,” said Yau. “Following your every move and tapping away at my console.”

  Ten led the team out of the tech room as soon as Gray and Jackson arrived. They could hear the Mechs moving in the corridors, but they saw nothing.

  “It’s as if they’re keeping away from us,” said Gray after they’d gone a hundred metres.

  “Gathering at a pinch point to launch a devastating attack,” was Jackson’s unsurprising assessment.

  “We’re almost at the edge of the sphere,” said Ten a few moments later. “It’s the first time I’ve got a close look at this thing. It looks like it’s made out of scrap. Seriously, it looks like they welded a load of old spaceships together to build this.”

  “Keep it coming, Marine X, we love a good story,” said Fernandez.

  “Heading out into the open,” reported Ten as the team left the central structure and moved out onto a gantry that connected to the inner surface of the sphere, fifty metres away. It was darker out here, away from the overhead lights, but the AI-enhanced night-vision in their HUDs picked out the details.

  “This thing is vast. I can see the OctoBots; they’re all following the same path to the top of the Sphere. They’re like ants making their way back to a nest.”

  “What the hell are they doing up there?” asked Gray, sighting along her rifle at the distant bots.

  “Is that writing?” asked Conway. She was looking at something on the wall above them, twisting her head to try to make it out.

  “Yes,” said Ten, his voice cold. “It’s writing, definitely writing.”

  And then Stansfield was in the channel. “Is it human, Marine X? Can you tell?”

  “I said this thing looked like it was made from old battleships. I’m sending you a visual via my HUD now. Do you see that, Vengeance?”

  “It’s too dark,” said Yau. “I can’t make it out.”

  “It’s an old Sol ship,” said Ten, his tone flat with horror. “Those words come from its hull. A ship’s name, stamped into the steel.”

  “What ship?” barked Stansfield. “Marine X! What’s the ship�
�s name?”

  “It’s Centurion, sir,” whispered Ten. “We’ve found Centurion.”

  4

  Ten made certain that Vengeance had received a decent image of the large, painted name plate from Centurion; then he continued his survey of the Sphere’s inner wall.

  “Should have brought some drones,” muttered Ten as he played his HUD cameras across the inside of the Sphere, working steadily towards the top. “Looks like there are a hundred, maybe a hundred and thirty, OctoBots up there. They’re just clustering, though, I don’t understand it.”

  “Are you okay, Ten?” asked Gray, edging closer.

  “Take a look up there,” said Ten, nodding at the top of the Sphere. “Zoom your HUD, night-vision your view. Do you see it?”

  “Do I see–” said Gray. “Whoa, yes, I see it. That’s weird.”

  “Are you getting this, Vengeance? Right at the top of the Sphere, there’s a huge circular dish. Just looks like the top of the Sphere is in shadow when you’re looking from down below, but it’s like a comms dish. It keeps tilting slightly, like it’s fixing on a signal. And the OctoBots are all connecting with it, it’s surrounded by plug-in slots.”

  “Mr Davies, any theories?” Stansfield asked.

  “Yeah, sounds to me like they’re getting updates from the mother ship.”

  “I’ve gotta tell you, sir,” Gray chipped in, “it certainly looks that way. There’s some sort of mechanical operation going on as well. They’re plugging themselves in around the dish, and something is changing their bodies, adding components. Then they just scuttle off and wait.”

  “I think Davies might be right,” said Ten. “Take a closer look at Bots that have disconnected.”

  “Are those ... wings?” whispered Gray, unable to keep a trace of fear from her voice.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Jackson as he stared up at the distant roof of the Sphere. “The fuckers fly now?”

  “I think they’ve seen us,” said Ten as upgraded OctoBots dropped off the ceiling and snapped open their wings. They flapped around like large, inelegant bats searching for prey, swooping ever lower. “Are you any good with a fly swat, Gray?”

  “No,” said Gray. “I’m not. Will a shotgun do?”

  “I certainly hope so. Get under cover,” Ten said, backing along the walkway and firing at the swooping bots.

  Gray and Jackson opened fire, but as the bots began to dive, it became difficult to select a target. One by one, slowly at first but ever more quickly, the bots completed their upgrades and dropped from the ceiling, like bats leaving a cave in search of food.

  They formed squadrons as they fell, flying in clusters of ten to swoop quickly towards the Marines as they edged along the walkway.

  “A flamethrower would be really fucking useful right now,” said Ten as the team shuffled back, firing as they went. “Or a shotgun.”

  “At least they’re not shitting on us,” said Jackson. “Couldn’t cope with that.”

  “Does that look like a bombing run?” asked Conway as she fired at a cluster of Bots that were diving towards the team.

  Ten stared for a moment, mouth open. “Run,” he yelled, ignoring his own advice to fire at the rapidly advancing bots. The rest of the team turned and ran as Ten emptied his magazine into the approaching cluster. Then he was after them, sprinting along the walkway toward the doors that led back into the super-structure.

  Davies pushed open the doors and turned to fire over Ten’s head, one foot wedged against the floor to hold the way open for the other Marines. Gray, Jackson and Conway dived past him as Ten sprinted along.

  But the bots were fast, much faster than a Marine in power armour, and they flashed over Ten’s head, releasing dozens of little bomblets as they went, then soared up to avoid crashing into the buildings.

  For a moment it looked like nothing would happen. The bomblets bounced across the steel plates of the walkway or pinged harmlessly off Ten’s armour.

  Then they exploded, all at once, swallowing Ten in a cloud of flame and smoke. There was a terrible crash as the plating of the walkway was torn away, and the team were peppered with shrapnel and debris.

  “Ten!” yelled Davies, appalled at the sight. He thrashed his arm uselessly at the smoke, switching his HUD to infrared so that he could peer through the murk.

  “Ten?” said Conway, checking Ten’s medical information in her HUD. “He’s not showing up dead,” she said, faintly surprised.

  “There, look,” said Davies, pointing into the smoke. The team stared at an armoured glove that clutched at the blackened metal of the walkway.

  “Help,” squeaked Ten. “Need some help.”

  Conway and Jackson surged forward, charging into the smoke. Ten was hanging from a twisted beam, swinging gently.

  “Give me your hand,” said Conway, throwing herself down onto the walkway so that she could reach down for Ten’s free hand.

  Jackson slung his weapon and crouched down, clamping his hand around Ten’s wrist as Conway took his other hand.

  “Had something lined up for just this situation,” wheezed Ten as he was hauled back to safety.

  “Heard it,” snapped Conway as she helped Ten to his feet. “And this is no time for jokes.”

  “Thanks,” said Ten, looking around for his rifle. “Must have bloody dropped it in the excitement,” he murmured, pulling out a pistol.

  “Time’s up,” yelled Davies suddenly. “You need to move, now!”

  Ten looked around and saw that more clusters of OctoBots had formed. The first had already begun another bombing run.

  This time, nobody stopped to return fire or contemplate the ineffable; they just ran into the Sphere’s super-structure and slammed the doors behind them. They clattered down the corridor as bomblets bounced off the doors. Moments later, there was another explosion, and the doors were pummelled into the corridor. The air filled with shrapnel, and the team slid as one around a corner.

  “Tough stuff, this armour,” said Ten as they paused to take stock.

  “It’s not going to be enough to get us out of here,” said Jackson as he reloaded his rifle.

  “We can’t go that way,” said Gray, nodding at the corner, “so where now?”

  “Didn’t you find an armoury when you were first here?” said Conway. “Maybe they have flamethrowers, or something else we can use against these flying fuckers.”

  Ten shrugged. “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but a bit optimistic. Anything useful on Vengeance?”

  Davies snorted. “We already have everything they had on Vengeance. Bloody ship’s an antiquated junkshop. No, we’re on our own.”

  “Armoury it is, then,” said Ten, “but I’m not hopeful. And it’s that way,” he said, pointing back down the corridor.

  “Past the flying OctoBots of doom,” said Jackson with a sigh, “because there’s no better way to round off a shitty day.”

  “Quit whining,” snapped Conway, checking her weapon. “We’ve had sixty seconds of downtime, now get back to work. You and me to the junction, clear the corridor, then across with the others.”

  “Corp,” acknowledged Jackson. “Let’s do this!”

  Jackson and Conway moved to the edge of the junction and then flowed around the corner, rifles up and spitting fire into the smoke-filled corridor before the OctoBots knew what was happening. Ten, Gray and Davies crossed the corridor and scanned the way ahead; then Conway and Jackson rolled into cover and everything was suddenly quiet.

  “Got a couple,” said Conway as she reloaded her rifle, “but they’re clustering again. It’ll be no more than minutes before they attack.”

  “And we’re still getting movement pings,” said Davies, “so I reckon there are other Mechs active up ahead.”

  “Better get going, then,” said Ten, leading the way along the corridor. Davies and Jackson followed, with Gray and Conway making up the rear-guard.

  “The armoury should be down this way, then left,” said Ten as t
hey moved through the corridor.

  “This is too easy,” said Jackson. “Where are they all?”

  “Movement,” said Davies, “movement up ahead, coming this way.”

  Then they all heard it: the distinctive sound of OctoBots running across the floors or along the walls.

  “Steady,” said Ten, taking another step forward, pistol raised. “Stay sharp.”

  Then there was a flurry of scuttling noises and the corridor was suddenly full of OctoBots, all scurrying along.

  “Contact,” yelped Ten as he fired at the targets his HUD was struggling to count. Lots of noise from behind as the rest of the team opened fire; then Ten had time only to yell in shock as an OctoBot came for him at head height, legs outstretched and reaching for him.

  5

  The OctoBot smacked into the visor of Ten’s helmet and grabbed at his head. Two of the thing’s legs were armed with diamond-tipped drills, and the bits skittered and screeched across Ten’s armour as the OctoBot searched for a way in.

  He staggered back, thick armoured fingers groping at the OctoBot and sliding across its shell as he struggled to get a grip. He shook his head as the drill bits danced across the toughened surface of the armour, but it was only a matter of time before they caught a rim or cut into the metal.

  “Get it off,” yelled Ten, battering at his head with his fists, trying to crush the OctoBot before it could do any damage.

  “Stop jumping around, you daft bugger,” said Conway, rifle ready but unable to shoot.

  Ten’s fingers ripped at the OctoBot, pulling away a pair of legs, but not moving the creature’s body at all.

  “Argh!” he said, pounding at the OctoBot’s hull and trying to crush it. He stumbled across the floor and bounced off a wall.

  Then he had an idea. He turned quickly, charged across the corridor, and rammed his helmet into the wall, relying on the armour’s structural integrity to protect his neck and head from harm. There was a crack, and the OctoBot’s drills paused their hunt.