Shadows of Golstar (81 page)

They
stood there, minds momentarily frozen at the Sentinel’s unexpected malfunction.
A voice garbled by static roused them from their mental stupor.  --Don’t
j*st stan*d there, ge* goin*!--

Owens
and Sharné ran for the building and entered a large opening without doors. They
could feel a small electrostatic discharge as they crossed the threshold into a
single room. They saw the slightly raised platform with a pedestal at its
center, just as Hec had described in his instructions. Thankfully, it appeared
unaffected by the collapse of outer wall, the platform was clear of debris.
They rushed onto the platform and Owens pressed the symbols etched on the top
of the pedestal. Instantly, a force-field shimmered into life around them and
the platform began to sink.

Slowly,
at first, it passed through one level, then gradually gained speed. Owens noted
that it seemed to be another manufacturing center, similar to the one the
Controller had shown him. The next level went by faster, and by the time they
had passed through ten more levels, their speed was such that he could no
longer discern each level’s function. As the levels blurred past them, Sharné
asked, “What will happen if we succeed?”

He
looked at her, a frown beginning to form on his brow. Here we go again, he
thought. “Honestly,” he responded, “I have no idea, but I trust Hec to do the
right thing.”

She
looked at him for a moment and then sighed, “I do too.”

Owens
felt a wave of relief at her response. He said, “It looks like we’re slowing
down. We must be nearing the core level.” The lift came to rest in another bare
room with the only exit being a darkened portal. “I’ll take the lead now.” He
stepped down and walked to the opening and Sharné followed. As he approached
the opening, the darkness beyond began to transition into light. He stopped and
looked past the threshold.

It
was a long, wide corridor. On either side, the walls were covered in bundled
conduits, junction boxes, blinking indicators and control panels. It looked
like something out of a mad scientist’s dream, and again, it matched Hec’s
description. He glanced at the ceiling and as expected, saw ventilation ducting
running the length of the corridor. A hanging rail system hung in the center,
just below the ductwork. Along the rails, spaced at uneven intervals, were
complicated-looking maintenance trolleys with numerous retracted manipulator
arms making them look like sleeping metal spiders.
 
He hoped they stayed asleep.

He
turned back to Sharné, “Hec indicated that we should go down this corridor and
take the left branch, right?”

She
nodded, “Yes, then we are to go to the next door and take the transport to the
master control center. It is there where the manual controls reside.”

“Okay,”
he turned back and walked through the portal. Sharné followed him. He
cautiously made his way into the corridor. When they were about a third of the
way down, he stopped.

Sharné
whispered, “What is wrong?”

“That
cop’s sixth sense I told you about? It just went into overdrive.” At his hushed
words, there was a muted click and metallic scraping noises. His voice rose,
“Run back to the lift, hurry!”

She
quickly turned and ran back towards the lift room. As Owens followed, he looked
over his shoulder. Damn, the metal spiders on the ceiling were beginning to
rouse. The arms on the maintenance trolleys began to unfold as the trolleys
themselves began to move along the rail. Owens was relieved to note that
although their movements were mechanically smooth, they were also slow, speed
not being a requirement for maintenance robots. Just as he turned his head
back, the corridor was pitched into darkness. Colored indicator lights could
still be seen on the walls, but they provided no real illumination. “Get down
on the floor and lay flat, hurry.” He followed his own advice and dropped to
the floor, rolling onto his back.

“Owens,
what is happening? I cannot see a thing.”

“The
Controller must have turned on the maintenance robots, those contraptions
hanging from the ceiling.” As he spoke, the whirring of servo-motors grew
louder, accompanied by clicks and an electrical hum in the background.
 
He called to her, “Stay still for a minute,
okay?” He then reached across his stomach and pushed a button on his
wrist-comp. The small holo-projector sprang to life. Since he had selected no
image, it projected a tiny, glowing translucent cube, creating a dim but
effective light.
 
He saw that a trolley
was directly overhead, its manipulator arm fully extended, the manipulator’s
pincers missing his nose by just a few centimeters. He heard a tiny yelp from Sharné
as she saw mechanical arm.

“It’s
okay. I don’t think that they can reach us. None of the control panels or
junction boxes are positioned below waist level and it looks like these repair
bots are constructed specifically to service them.” At these words, the
lighting came back on and the saw that the manipulator arms on all the nearby
trolleys were beginning to retract.

“What
about the access panels,” she asked. She pointed at the lower half of one of
the corridor’s walls. “They extend all way down to the floor level.”

He
sat up and looked below the control panels and saw the recessed panels covered
with symbols and heavy fasteners, obviously designed to be opened by some sort
of tool. He said, “Uh oh.”

“Owens,
look!” Sharné now pointed down the hall.

Owens
looked to where she pointed and saw a miniature version of a Sentinel at the
far end of the corridor, motionlessly floating above the floor. They watched as
apertures opened and glittering objects began to emerge.

**Your
AI can no longer help you. We are now isolating its memory blocks. What few
resources remain to it are being expended in its own defense. You and your AI
have failed. We have relit the corridor so each of you may witness the
instrument of your final fate. **

Owens
quickly got to his feet. “You’re sounding more and more like an old-time
villain, right out of the ancient two-D cinemas. Too bad you don’t have a
mustache to twirl.”

**We
fail to understand your meaningless, archaic reference. If it was an attempt at
humor, it seems misplaced given your present circumstances. In any event, it
will not affect the eventual outcome. We now recognize you, and the woman
cannot be trusted. Therefore, you and she will be terminated.**

 
Owens started to back up as the silvery sphere began
to move. He said, “Never heard of gallows humor, huh? Maybe you’re not as
sentient as you think you are.” The Controller did not respond. 

Sharné
called to him, “Owens, look. The opening has been sealed. We cannot now escape
to the lift.”

He
craned his neck and looked at the opening into the lift room. The shimmering
telltale of a force-field over the portal was easy to discern. It looked like
the roller-coaster ride was finally nearing its end. He turned his head back
and saw the mini-guardian was halfway to their position, and now that it was
closer he could see what was protruding from its apertures. One articulated arm
ended in what could only be a plasma cutter, another was equipped with
vice-like pincers and the third terminated a sharp-looking probe. Though they
were not designed as weapons, he imagined that they would be just as deadly at
close range.

“Sharné,
I want you to back away from me… now.”

“Owens,
what can you do?” She protested, “You cannot fight that thing.”

“Yes
I can. Now do as I ask. Please, Sharné.”

She
shook her head angrily, “No. I want to be with you if this is to be our end.”

“Damn
it Sharné, don’t be stubborn. I need the room to maneuver. It may be the last
thing I ever ask you, but I’m asking. Do it, please? ” She started to back
away, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

As it
neared, he carefully watched the sphere’s movements. The arms constantly
repositioned themselves as it advanced. He supposed the Controller thought such
movements were menacing. He hoped the measured speed it was exhibiting in the
movement of its mechanical arms, was indicative of its normal reaction time.
Like the maintenance trolleys, it was designed to perform repairs. Blinding
speed wasn’t necessarily a required attribute. If it was no faster than it
seemed, then he should have a real chance of stopping it.

He
took a few deep breaths and then ran towards it with as much speed as he could
muster in the short distance. He gauged an imaginary marker on the floor and on
reaching it, launched into a flying kick, aiming his one intact boot at the arm
equipped with the plasma cutter. He just missed his target, hitting it instead
at an angle, glancing off the arm and striking its metal skin. Surprisingly,
his mass was at least a match for the metal orb and with a solid thump of his
boot heel, it spun away and struck one of its tool-bearing arms on a protruding
junction box. The sound of the crunching impact rang in his ears as he fell to
the floor.

He
regained his footing and watched as it quickly righted itself. He grinned in
satisfaction as he surveyed the damage. Though he had missed his intended
target, the result was still gratifying. He saw a large dent in its metal skin
where his boot had struck. It confirmed what he had already surmised, that a
maintenance-bot had no need for armor. He was also happy to find its
deceptively small mass had been disguised by its thin spherical housing.
However, that wasn’t the only damage he had caused. The metal arm that had
struck the junction box was bent. A guide rod dangled loosely from its center
joint, and the sharp probe now hung uselessly, pointing impotently at the
floor.

As
the maintenance-bot was realigning on his position, he again ran toward it, but
this time, he grabbed for the plasma cutter equipped arm. Before it finished
its rotation, he already latched on to it and was twisting with every ounce of
his strength. In response, it immediately began to fire its deadly beam. As it
fought with Owens’ strength, the cutter fired erratically. Its short bursts
caused bright sparks as nearby metal surfaces yielded to the burning energy and
left ragged smoking gouges where the beam struck. Owens ignored the danger as
he continued to strain against the jerking arm. Further complicating matters,
the maintenance-bot was attempting to spin him off. He heard a rising whine as
its repulser strained under the load of his added weight.

Fortunately,
the arm was designed to position and hold the cutter steady. Its construction
was highly articulated and had less mass than the other arms. He felt the metal
begin to give, and he redoubled his efforts to apply as much pressure as he
could. Those efforts were finally rewarded with a loud snap. A piece of metal
gave way and the arm began to bend in earnest. The cutter’s beam sputtered and
winked out. Small cables broke loose and the smell of ozone and the spitting
sound of arcing electricity told him he had succeeded in disabling its
functions.

His
self-congratulations were cut short when he felt a sharp blow to his head,
causing him to fall heavily to the floor. He had momentarily forgotten about
the arm with the heavy-duty pincers. He scooted backwards, away from the
unbalanced maintenance-bot and awkwardly got to his feet, his head already
beginning to clear. He felt a warm wetness spreading in his scalp. As he backed
up, he probed the top of his head. He felt a small gash centered on a
developing lump and felt a little relieved. The speed and restricted angle of
the mechanical arm had limited the damage. Thankfully, the maintenance-bot just
wasn’t designed for combat and without its other two limbs, its ability to
inflict damage was severely reduced. However, the remaining arm was the
heaviest of the three, so it might not be as easy to disable.

Just
as he was getting ready to charge it once more, two additional spherical
maintenance-bots entered the far end of the corridor. As he hesitated, he felt
a solid blow from behind and again fell heavily to the floor.
 
Now on his hands and knees, Owens felt
another, sharper blow on his shoulder. He fell to his stomach and rolled over.
Through watering eyes, he saw that the Controller had reengaged the overhead
repair trolleys. It had just been toying with him. He knew that the damaged
repair bot was near and started to squirm away from its position. He froze when
heard the Controller’s voice. 

**We
confess our sentience continues to evolve, that our growing sense of curiosity
facilitated this small deception. The tenacity for survival you have exhibited
since arriving into this system piqued our interest and we wanted to witness
your skills in conditions of our own devising. Your aggressive actions in
dealing with the repair unit were quite effective and you have provided some
additional insight into the nature of your species. However, we do not desire
to be unnecessarily cruel and so the deception now is at an end. You may rejoin
your companion and derive what comfort you may in the remaining time you have.
We will allow you five minutes, human reckoning.**

Owens
watched as the trolleys once again retracted their manipulator arms and the damaged
repair-bot wobbly retreated, joining its brothers at the far end of the
corridor.