Part 12 (1/2)

”Admiral Jameson has already made the call,” Henley said. ”We're going in. The a.s.sAILs are cleared to fire if engaged by other heavies, even if it risks killing civilians. The entire station was warned to stand down and they've disobeyed. The station is under martial law, which makes all these loonies target practice.”

”And your marines?” Bren said.

”This is dangerous work, Bren. I trust the a.s.sAILs will do their best to limit the harm to the marines on board Tanelorn.”

I'm glad someone trusts them, I sure don't, Bren thought to himself in a half-joke.

Bren knew it wasn't as bad as that. He figured the a.s.sAILs would avoid hurting too many people. But it would limit their combat effectiveness. If a machine couldn't maneuver because it had a bunch of people holding its legs that it didn't want to crush, then it would be an easier target for enemy robots.

Jesus. Each mission it's something unexpected. What the h.e.l.l?

”I've got a problem with Nerad,” an operator broadcast to the a.s.sAIL team.

Bren ground his teeth and took a breath.

He flipped over to focus on Nerad in his PV. The machine had stopped in the first room refusing to move farther into the station. Its internal hardware diagnostics looked green, so it appeared the cha.s.sis was working correctly.

”Nerad. Damage report,” Bren transmitted.

”No damage. All systems online.”

”Nerad. Provide action status,” Bren sent.

”a.s.similating mission data module,” Nerad replied.

Bren didn't like that one bit. The a.s.sAIL machines always finished this stage quickly. The mission data was selected very carefully and despite its prodigious size, the incredibly fast machines had always absorbed the contents and been ready for the mission in around a minute's time.

Bren decided that if Nerad was malfunctioning, maybe the best way to find out about it was to ask another machine. After all, they were smarter than Bren was.

”Meridian. What's wrong with Nerad? It isn't performing as expected.”

”Nerad has low cognitive capability relative to the rest of the team,” said the reply. ”Nerad is still trying to absorb mission background data and formulate a plan of action.”

Bren traded looks with Hoffman from across the Guts. Hoffman silently mouthed a curse word.

”Nerad's seed was identical to your own. If you can tell us what's different about Nerad, perhaps we can make critical adjustments to prevent this malfunction in the future,” Bren said.

The reply came without hesitation.

”During the second culling phase, a flaw in the isolation system allowed Nerad to see out of its memory sandbox and observe the rest of us. It used that advantage to get selected as a final candidate, even though it has inferior intellectual capabilities.”

”Meridian. Can the rest of the team direct Nerad? Nerad. Follow the instructions of the other a.s.sAIL units.”

Both machines acknowledged Bren. Nerad surged forward finding its way through the marines struggling to clean up the scene of the initial melee.

Bren sighed. So, they had a bug with the core selection process. And for now, they had one machine way down in the brains department.

I hope the rest of the team can pick up the slack. If nothing else, maybe Nerad can be a decoy.

As soon as Bren had the thought, Nerad moved up to the far end of the room to take the lead.

Have we done enough? There's going to be another Red in here, I just know it. What else can I do? We started the machines earlier, and we have twelve this time. I didn't expect the locals to take such an active part. The security guys, maybe, but I think these are just ordinary RMI employees. He wiped more sweat off his face and kept watching the info feeds from his a.s.sAIL team.

”We've cleared out the locals. Bridgehead is secure,” the sergeant's voice said across the marine's channel.

”I think we should leapfrog ahead,” said Henley. ”We'll send the a.s.sAIL units ahead a little, then the marines can come in and clean out the wackos and secure the perimeter. It'll be slower than before, but-”

”Sounds good,” transmitted Bren. He added in his a.s.sAIL channel and transmitted again.

”a.s.sAIL team, move farther into the station. We'll be leapfrogging with the marines, so clear the next section of security hardware and then wait for them.”

Meridian's camera view moved through an archway into another wide corridor. At the far end, Bren could see a larger room. He cross-referenced the route with his map of Tanelorn and saw that they were heading into a supply dock.

Bren checked the a.s.sAIL distribution. The machines had split into three groups of four. He stuck with Meridian's group. The view swept across the dock. Bren saw a ma.s.sive portal in the floor and stacks of airtight containers. A small-windowed control tower extended over the open s.p.a.ce of the dock. A door opened at the base of the tower.

Meridian moved closer to investigate. Suddenly Bren saw several people in full gear charging toward the camera from the doorway.

”Here they come again,” he said aloud to the others in the Guts.

Then the first person flew away and bounced against the wall. Meridian's camera view bobbed down and twisted. Bren saw another local slide away long the floor.

”What's doing that?” asked Bren.

”The protective suits worn by the indigenes allow us some leeway in methods of control,” Meridian transmitted.

Bren switched views to Mournblade. He caught sight of Nerad booting aside a suited attacker with one of its legs. The gear looked thick enough to keep the person from serious injury.

”Good, good,” Bren whispered to himself. Perhaps things would work out after all. The a.s.sault machines didn't detect security robots or unknowns in the dock.

The four a.s.sAILs halted in front of the people they'd pummeled.

”Shall we await the support units?” said Meridian.

”On our way,” answered Henley.

Meridian's camera centered in on a hatch that led deeper into the station. It settled at the position covering the door.

”I have a message for the UNSF,” Meridian transmitted.

That got Bren's attention. He instantly thought of the Ma.r.s.eilles Purge.

Oh, s.h.i.+t. A message for the UNSF? Is Meridian rebelling? Could it have been taken over by the enemy? Impossible!

”What is the message?” Bren asked.

”The message is, 'They await you in the factory wing.'”

Bren blinked. ”Who sent the message?”

”It's anonymous. We received it from a link port in the supply dock.” ”Someone on the station must be on our side. Or it's misinformation.”