Part 2 (1/2)
Brrroooom.
Several rounds came out in a staccato burst. One of the spider bot's arms came off, flying away end over end. Then the machine exploded.
”Yes!” Bren erupted.
”Fragged!” Hoffman burst out.
”Yes!” echoed another handler in the Guts.
Bren realized how tense he'd been while witnessing the battle. He checked the weapons log and swore again. Maladomini had fired four rounds through the body of Mordecai, and two of them had at least clipped the spider machine. One of the other a.s.sAIL units had hit the arm.
”Four rounds? Jesus. We need to get this base cleaned up. We're lucky there still is a base to clean up.” He exaggerated only a little. Bren knew four AP rounds along the wrong trajectory could punch a hole through the bulkheads of the base and depressurize a section. He wasn't sure what four rounds would have done to the fusion plant, but he didn't want to find out.
”Colonel Henley. We took out the unknown. You have four a.s.sAIL units left to a.s.sist with the high-security zone.”
”s.h.i.+t. Well, we're headed in.”
Bren reacquired a camera feed and watched as the a.s.sAIL team moved through the remains of the security station. He smiled at the carnage he saw through the feed until his eyes caught a pool of blood. One of the base denizens, wrapped in one of the familiar black suits, had been hiding behind the security counter. He spotted a weapons belt on the corpse and a firearm in the dead hand.
”d.a.m.n! That guy's seriously fragged.”
The machines split up into two pairs to clear the zone. Bren wasn't sure why they didn't cl.u.s.ter together. He wondered if some intel gleaned from the station had eliminated concern about encountering more spider bots. Or were the machines more confident now that they'd eliminated one of the bots? Had they found a weakness? The mission chronometer showed twenty-five minutes had elapsed. The machines had learned a lot since they'd been turned on.
Bren watched Meridian move through another video feed. It had body language, he realized. The a.s.sAIL was moving more a.s.suredly now, as it had when first entering the station.
The robotic vanguard swept through more corridors searching through the functional s.p.a.ces of the station. Bren noticed several spotless laboratories dominated the branch explored by the first team, while the other had invaded a security office complete with a surveillance room and detention cells. Several men and women tried to put up a fight there, but their weapons were nonlethal even on humans so they were no match for the a.s.sAIL units.
One team found its way into a large control room and rounded up a final group of high-ranking company people. At that point, the a.s.sAIL units started a patrol pattern waiting for any sign of trouble. The marines continued to secure the personnel in the suits. Bren peeked in on the marine channels to gain details about what the human invaders learned.
Part of the high-security area of the base included the personal living areas of the Bentra Corporation leaders. The place was extravagant by any standards. The living quarters were lavish, even more so if one considered their remote location in deep s.p.a.ce. He locked onto a feed from some of the marines who were rounding up people from the high-security zone.
Bren raised an eyebrow. Each of these executive quarters had a young man or woman in it, all wearing more conventional clothing. Other than the single naked woman in the examination room, these were the only people on the whole base not wearing the black suits. All the ones that Bren caught glimpses of appeared to be Asian.
”These women aren't registered,” Henley said on the marine's channel. ”s.h.i.+t. Wait a minute. They aren't linked. They have no links.”
They're slaves.
On an automated s.p.a.ce fortress like Thermopylae, anyone without a link was a second-cla.s.s citizen. Even something as simple as opening the door to your quarters could be difficult or impossible without a link. There would be no way to order food, change the temperature controls ... they would be next to helpless.
There might be some manual controls in the rooms, just so they could get some work done for their masters.
”Our intel wasn't fabricated. Who knows what else we'll find in the labs? This could be a major victory for the UNSF,” Bren said.
Henley chuckled. ”You running for office, Marcken? You're sounding like you're putting a h.e.l.l of a spin on it already.”
Bren smiled. He had let his enthusiasm get out of control for a moment.
But to those slaves, we're genuine liberators. Ironic that we're liberating Chinese, the enemies of the UNSF back on Earth.
He addressed the remaining a.s.sAIL machines.
”Congratulations. The mission was successful. I owe you all my thanks. Please report back to the Vigilant for debriefing.”
He watched the camera feeds as the surviving robot-killers made their way back through Thermopylae. Marines moved around detaining dozens of men and women in the odd suits, checking the station for critical damage, and searching for illegal items. The machines pa.s.sed a group of engineers tapping into one of Thermopylae's data storage units. Bren smiled. He bet they would be finding a lot of interesting bits there.
The team returned through the breach and back onto the rubberized decks of the Vigilant. Bren got up from his chair and made his way down a short corridor toward the a.s.sAIL post-mission bays.
The handlers were already there. The four with surviving machines were preparing the machine docks to accept the a.s.sAIL units. Each bay extended the length of an a.s.sAIL unit with an opening at both ends for walking in and out.
Bren felt pity for the other six handlers. Two of them hadn't even bothered to show up. The four who had, stood by with glum looks. None of them had expected their machine would be a leaking pile of sc.r.a.p by the end of the mission. It might be weeks before they got replacements. If they got replacements. The data would be audited carefully, and if any of the handlers had neglected their duties in a way that had contributed to the loss of a machine, those handlers might be replaced as well.
They didn't do anything wrong. We had no idea there would be such a devastating foe here.
The familiar sound of powerful hydraulics and electric motors grew from the outer corridor. The four a.s.sAIL machines came back into the maintenance room and slid into each bay. Four umbilical connections snaked from the sides of each bay and connected to the machines.
Bren saw Maladomini bore a battle scar. A front panel of metal armor had been rent open revealing a narrow hollow in the center that leaked green fluid. The fluid was key to the functionality of the armor plate since it held millions of long carbon nanotubes in suspension to block incoming projectiles. Struck by the scene, Bren shook his head. It looked as if a wounded metal lion had slinked back to the Guts to bleed out.
Bren monitored his post-mission protocols and tried not to look at the robots. He always experienced nervousness at this point. He felt like somehow they knew. He checked the mission chronometer. The AI cores had been on for more than thirty-four minutes. Each core harbored intelligence many times more powerful than the sharpest humans did, but with a restricted set of knowledge.
Meridian followed Bren's movements from its bay. Each eye was an armored black hemisphere the size of an old-world quarter. Meridian had eight forward-facing eyes, arrayed symmetrically across its head and shoulders, like a giant metal spider head with creepy, cold shark eyes.
”You are Major Marcken. I have a question,” said Meridian.
Bren accessed the power lineup that fed the a.s.sAIL units the juice they needed to maintain mental coherency. He started the power down procedure.
”Yes, Meridian?” Bren replied nervously. He wondered what the question would be this time.
”Have you delivered the message to Sparta?”
”I'll send them the message, Meridian,” Bren said and turned off the power.
Meridian remained conscious for a long second before going dark. Bren always wondered what it thought in that last moment while its capacitors discharged, knowing its existence was about to wink out.
”I would be interested in reading the message,” was the last transmission from the AI core.
Bren felt troubled. Fear and guilt battled in the mix of feelings produced by his role in what was the execution of an intelligent ent.i.ty, albeit one only minutes old.
I would be interested in reading the message.
His mood didn't stop him from running the cleanup protocols and resetting every electronic component back to the startup specs. Not a single bit of old state from the machines would remain outside of the logs when the machine started again. And the logs would be transferred off the a.s.sAIL storage units to Bren's data storage modules.
The next time the machines were deployed, their cores would start from scratch again. Meridian wouldn't remember a thing.
Two.
Chris Adrastus settled into the acceleration lounge. He closed his eyes and relished the perfection of it. The muted vibration of the vehicle, the comforting white noise of its drive, and the smell of pristine leather combined harmoniously. Even now, hours after leaving Earth's atmosphere, the acceleration continued. His link picked up the longest list of services he'd ever seen. It offered access pointers for drinks, food, ma.s.sage, and climate control ... this exquisite throne could even heat, cool, or change shape at his mental command. He thought about the chair angle pointer just so, causing a control panel to snap up in his mind, letting him adjust the settings. His lounge reclined farther without a sound.