Trail of Evil - eARC (9 page)

Rondi could see him backpedalling and falling backwards as a swimming toothy bot with a flailing tentaclelike appendage snapped at him. The thing looked like a cross between an octopus and a radial arm circular saw with shark teeth. Each of the shark teeth were more like saw blades from a reciprocating saw cutting back and forth rapidly with each snap of the mandibles. She fired a couple rounds in its general direction.

From the motion just behind and to the left of the lieutenant, Rondi could tell that Corporal Simms seemed to be handling himself a little better. The kid had a bot by the tail and was whirling it creating a stir of river muck around him which gave him cover and disoriented the bot. The bot ruptured at a joint where the tail connected to the torso and spun off from the centrifugal force.

“Sir,” Rondi started, “we can’t get anywhere here and our time is past being up. I suggest we either snap back to the shuttle or go forward and try to help DeathRay on the other side of this wall or whatever it is.”

“Agreed First Sergeant!” The lieutenant rolled over onto his hands and knees and pushed himself up to just miss another tentacle swipe by the octosaw bot. “Everyone, snap back to the shuttle . . . now, now, now!”

Rondi tapped the control on her wrist panel and with a flash of lightning and the sound of frying bacon she was floating in space in what appeared to be the middle of a debris field. It was a debris field that suddenly came to life and seemed to be really pissed off. The pieces of the field that didn’t come to life were clearly what was left of the shuttle.

“Holy shit!” she screamed as small bots like the ones they had encountered on the planetoid where the shuttle had been liberated buzzed all around. “They’re everywhere!”

“Shit, sir,” Corporal Simms shouted. “We’re surrounded and no place to stand. We were better off underwater.”

Rondi fired her HVAR at an incoming bot. The recoil of the rifle acted like a rocket thruster spinning her wildly in the opposite direction.

Full sensor suite targeting,
she thought to her AIC.

DTM targeting on.
The AIC replied in her mind. Targeting reticles popped up all around her in every direction. The yellow Xs flashed and most of them turned red, meaning that they were a threat, they were in range, and they ought to be killed.

Great, now, take over suit controls and shoot these goddamned things! Puking deathblossom like the pilots do!
she thought.

Understood.

Armored E-suit Marines were badasses in or out of their suits and they were awesome violent works of art when in control of the situation. Seldom did a Marine ever give over control of their suit’s functions. That typically only occurred when the Marine was badly wounded, unconscious, or being overridden by some command protocol—and even then the suit control was usually involving life support or communications functions. While an AIC could drive a suit it was just never done. But this was an extreme circumstance and Marines adapt and improvise to overcome. And Rondi and the others were in one hell of a situation.

The HVAR fired rapidly releasing vast amounts of kinetic energy with each round. The rounds came out spinning also, which only added to the reaction forces acting on the suit and the Marine within. Rondi could do nothing but hang on for the ride and do her best not to fight against the suit actions. The weapon whipped left, right, up, and down, firing several rounds with each movement. Her full battlescape view in the direct-to-mind view was a ball with three blue dots besides herself and a shitload of red dots covered with targeting Xs. The dots whirled and whipped around in the view as she spun madly in every direction. The angular motion and the centrifugal force of her spinning forced the blood to her head and feet and made her stomach lurch.

Spitap, spitap, spitap, continued ringing through her suit with each round. Several times a bot came very close to her position but her suit would flex, spread her limbs akimbo, or tuck her into a ball to avoid contact. The speed of the AIC-controlled motions stretched and forced her muscles and joints through motions at the very limit of the Marine’s physical abilities. Rondi thought to herself that if she survived the fight she would be sore for days. She’d definitely need some immunoboost and pain meds—a shitload of pain meds.

One of the bots burst into a ball of orange and white sparks inches from her faceplate and the barrel of the rifle zipped through the debris cloud to the next target. Shrapnel pinged her suit all over making it ring inside like a bell. Rondi’s ears felt as if they would explode with each ping and with each heartbeat that forced more blood into her already full brain bucket. The red targets in her mindview were down from over a hundred to only a handful and after nearly thirty seconds or more of the spinning it was all her body could take. Rondi’s stomach convulsed and her head spun so badly that closing her eyes only made it worse. With her eyes closed she saw stars and it made her more dizzy. With her eyes open she saw stars and it made her dizzy. The view from the faceplate visor was wild. The planet below would roll by then the star then the lieutenant, or was it Simms, then an exploding bot, then the planet, then the QMT gate orbital facility, then the tech, then . . . then vomit.

The fluid from her stomach filled her nose and mouth and had little place to go inside the suit’s helmet. Rondi was certain she was going to drown in her own vomit. And, the retching didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Override control!” she gurgled. “Goddamnit, give me back suit function!” Rondi panicked and screamed and did her best to spit and blow the fluids and solid matter from her face and air passages. The smell filled the helmet to a point that led her to heave again.

First Sergeant Rondi Piaya Howser, you are okay. Do your best to calm down and breath as best you can. Take control of yourself First Sergeant! Howser! Settle down Marine! The suit will absorb the matter in the helmet soon. In the meantime I have administered anxiety medication to calm you. Once you are in control of your faculties I will return suit control.
Her AIC said sternly but calmly into her mindvoice. AIC’s programming had evolved to create a strong emotional attachment to their counterparts and in all cases they would do what they had to in order to maintain their host’s safety. Many times when a host was killed it would take years for an AIC to take another host.

Whether it was the voice of reason in her mind or the drugs the suit was pumping into her system, Rondi began to calm down and feel more in control. The stench was still so bad that she was on the edge of throwing up again, but she could manage. She choked back what bile was left in her stomach. She was a Marine after all.

Rondi focused on her DTM view of the battlescape as she became more aware of herself and less panicked. She could see that the lieutenant, the corporal, and the ET1 were finishing off the remaining couple of bots. Her suit fired a few rounds off in various directions to slow her spin and bring her to a comfortable orientation.

“First Sergeant, I sure would like to know what the hell you just did,” the lieutenant asked over the com channel.

“Learned it from watching DeathRay sir. Called a puking deathblossom. I don’t recommend it at all.” Rondi choked back the taste of bile in her throat as the feeling of microgravity kicked in. She was, after all, floating in space. Had there been anything left in her stomach she would have lost it.

“That’s all of them for now, as far as my sensors can tell, sir.” ET1 Amari said.

“Great, now what?” Simms asked.

“We snap back to the
Madira
and hope that DeathRay and Penzington did the same,” The lieutenant ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Rondi liked that plan. The fluids and matter from her stomach were quickly being dissolved from her visor by the suit’s housekeeping functions. She could see out of the faceplate now without the use of DTM and sensors. She watched as her team members each reached for their wrist panels and then she followed suit. She depressed the QMT snap-back codes and waited for the flashing light and frying bacon. Nothing happened. She tried it again thinking she had fat fingered the panel. Again, nothing happened. Then again and again. Rondi looked at the planet below and at the star off in the distance. She did her best not to think of the smell in her suit. “Fuck.”

Chapter 13

November 7, 2406 AD

27 Light-years from the Sol System

Monday, 4:57 PM, Expeditionary Mission Standard Time

Alexander Moore sat upright against the headboard of the bed, enjoying the view. He had been working for what seemed like days without a break. So, when he had a few hours he could take for himself, he found Sehera and the two of them hid themselves away in their quarters.

His wife lay fast asleep against his chest, her long dark flowing hair tickling him slightly each time she breathed out. Her naked breasts heaved gently against him with each exhale. He gently pulled the cover up over her.

The viewport window on the wall opposite the headboard was over two meters in height and at least twice that in length. In the distance was the star, a good twenty-five or more astronomical units away and beneath them was the little planetoid they’d taken the shuttle from.

Moore needed the rest but he couldn’t sleep. DeathRay, Nancy, and some of his crew were off God only knew where, out of contact, and he always was concerned about his people when they were on a mission. At least Dee was off duty for a few days and he didn’t need to worry about her.

Moore took the moment to take in the view and enjoy the serenity of their quarters. When he had taken the
Madira
he let Sehera choose where they would quarter. His wife had taken one look at the captain’s lounge and conference area and decided they would renovate it for their living quarters. They knocked out a wall of the storage unit next door and created the “Presidential Suite,” as he thought of it. It was four, maybe five times the space that a ship’s captain usually had, but he also had his wife in there with him. Besides, this was a decommissioned ship. It was his ship. He didn’t have to follow the Navy fleet standards. He’d given the crew a similar
carte blanche
. The ship was big and they were at a fraction of capacity. His orders had been that space was mission priority first and then it was first come first serve if nobody was claiming it. Any arguments over a particular bit of real estate was delegated to the COB to solve. The crew knew better than to get the COB involved because the one time he did had the area in question commandeered for storage. So, the crew always managed to figure things out for themselves. Moore had picked a smart crew.

A glint moving across the bottom of the viewport downward toward the planetoid caught his eye. Several more were behind it making a vee formation.

Mecha?
he thought to Abigail.

Yes. That is the Maniacs FM-12 squadron.

Jawbone?

Yes sir, Lt. Col. Delilah “Jawbone” Strong.

He had kept an eye on the Marine fighter pilot since she had almost single-handedly saved his family at the attack on Disney World back when Dee was only twelve or so. Moore had made certain that when it came time for promotions that Strong had always been “promotable.” And when the time came for the deep-space expedition he had DeathRay offer her a squadron.

Moore brought up the duty roster in his DTM mindview and saw that the Maniacs were conducting routine security flights over the planetoid. Since the tankheads and the AEMs had mopped up the facility it was secure. Moore was considering using it as an outpost at some point, but they had to find Copernicus first and figure what the hell that batshit crazy AIC was up to.

“Dee!” Sehera jumped up immediately from her sleep nearly making Alexander jump out of his skin. Her breathing was erratic and her eyes wide with fear. “Where’s Dee!? Alexander! Where is Dee?”

“Baby? You’re having a bad dream. Calm down. Dee is here on the ship safe and sound for once.” Moore patted his wife on the back and then squeezed her shoulder. He adjusted his position so he could look at her without twisting his neck in too harsh a direction. “Everything is fine.”

“No. Where is Dee? Something isn’t right.” Sehera rose and Moore watched as the distant starlight and light from the planetoid facility below washed over her naked body as she raised from the covers. Sehera grabbed her AIC wrist watch. Moore still couldn’t get over how she wouldn’t have an implanted AIC, but after what Sehera had seen happen to her mother he understood.

“Pamela,” she said out loud to her AIC assistant. “Find Dee.”

“Sweetheart, calm down. You were having a nightmare.” She was always the overprotective one, he thought. Dee was a badass Marine fighter pilot and their daughter. She could take care of herself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot detect Deanna Moore’s present location.” The AIC responded.

“Alexander?”

“Hold on. That can’t be right. Abby, vocal. Where’s Dee?” He said raising up only slightly more concerned. Dee could take care of herself and he had never thought Pamela was all that smart of an AIC but his wife like her so he kept his mouth shut.

“Sir, I cannot see Dee’s locator beacon,” Abigail replied over the room speakers.

“What? Can’t be. She was ordered to stay on this ship. Did she snap back somewhere?” Moore stood up from the bed now and started pulling on his underwear.

“No, sir. No QMTs have taken place other than the shuttle earlier.” Abigail sounded perplexed. Alexander didn’t like that. Dee could take care of herself, but in the end she was still his princess.

“Then how did she get off the ship and out of locator range?” he asked.

“I never said she was off the ship, sir. I said I can’t detect her. In fact, I can’t detect anybody in the forward starboard third of the ship.”

“What does that mean, Abby?”

“We’re being jammed, sir.” Abigail paused briefly. “And Dee must be in that section of the ship.”

“Alexander!” Sehera snapped. “They’re onboard the ship!”

“I agree. Fucking bots.” Moore toggled the closet open and took a deep breath. “Abby, fire up my suit and sound the alarms. Get Uncle Timmy running the drill.”

“Pamela, get my suit online,” Sehera said. Moore turned and saw her standing naked by her closet, rolling her neck from side to side and doing pre-suit-up stretches. He started to tell her he could handle this until he thought better of it.

“Moore to XO!”

“XO here. What’s up sir?”

“Firestorm, we’ve got bots on the ship in the front starboard third. Get me a battle plan and get me troops down there. I also want a list of crew unaccounted for. They are likely in there.” Moore stepped into the back of his suit. The organogel layer made a schlurrping sound as he wiggled into it. He could hear Sehera making it into her suit as well.

“Aye sir! Thirty seconds,” USMC Brigadier General Sally “Firestorm” Rheims responded.

The bosun’s pipe sounded throughout the ship and several klaxons went off. Then the familiar voice of Uncle Timmy, the ships AIC commander, came over the 1MC Intercom.

“All hands, all hands, battlestations and to arms. Hostile forces are onboard the ship. Repeat, hostile forces are onboard the ship.”

Abby, we ready?

Yes sir. You want a chill pill or some stims?

Negative. Just ammo. Lots of ammo.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Tommy Suez had hoped for some fun working out in his suit in the abandoned decks of the ship. He finally had some me time for once, which was something that the sergeant never had. He was spending it in complete communications silence, surrounded by attacking menacing artificial intelligence controlled killer robots. And the motherfuckers just kept coming.

Fortunately for him, the largest of the bots were the small buzzsaw bots that were about the size of a bulldog. While they weren’t necessarily easy to kill, they weren’t hard to kill either, at least not for a kickass Marine.

Jackie, can you get any messages out?

Negative.

Keep posting our egress route. See if you can get the ship’s lights on.
He thought to his AIC. Tommy hated being all by himself and being overwhelmed by bots. He was most concerned about how much ammo he had. He hadn’t been planning on actually shooting at anything when he’d left his quarters.

Tommy dove headfirst through a hatch leading into an outer corridor that ran close to the exterior hull of the ship. There were energy conduits, large energy conduits, running from fore to aft of the ship. He suspected they were the DEG power tubes.

He turned as fast as he could get to his feet and dogged the hatch down tight onto two bots that were right behind him. He slammed the hatch so fast that one of the bots was torn in two. Sparks and shrapnel flew but the damned thing still chomped and buzzed at him with its front legs dragging it along. The other one had made it through and was wrapped up on his leg digging into his suit. Tommy could suddenly feel searing hot metal tearing into his leg.

“Shit! Get off me!” he screamed and kicked the thing loose. He reached down grabbing the broken bot by the front right leg and did a backflip over the other bot. Using the broken bot as a war club he smashed the other one across the back, snapping metal structure. He jumped and came down onto the thing with both feet and all the massive weight of the armored suit. Tommy twisted his heels into the bot until its lights went out. Then he battered the broken one against the bulkhead until it was dead as well.

“I hope that door holds them a while,” he said to nobody in particular and then bounced aftward as fast as he could.

Dee rolled over atop Davy, still in the throes of lovemaking. Dee had never really been in love, and she had been sexually active for more than a decade, but with Davy it was always different, better, in a good way.

“Oh God Davy, yes . . .” she whispered and leaned back putting her hands on his shins and letting go.

Bang, clank, bang, clank.

“What the hell—” Davy leaned over as light came around the corner and a fully armored Marine slid to a halt just before he crashed into them. The floods from the suit turned and illuminated the two of them.

“What the—” Dee covered her breasts and scrambled off of Rackman.

“Uh, sorry maam. Sir. Had no idea anybody else was here.” The Marine’s voice was familiar. It was the top sergeant.

“Gunny, please kill the light.” Dee scrambled for her clothes and started to talk but was interrupted.

“No time for pleasantries, ma’am, sir. This whole area is filled with bots and they are right on my ass! Do you have armor or weapons?” Top asked. He turned and shined the light back up the corridor looking for bots.

“Bots!” Rackman jumped up instantly grabbing his clothes and knife. Dee could see him in the mix of red light from the grill and the reflected white floods from the armored suit scrounging through their packs.

“Why haven’t we been warned?” Dee asked sliding her tank top over her head and pulling it down. She then pulled up her shorts and put on her running shoes.

“Sensors are jammed and I’ve got no com to anywhere,” Suez replied.

The bosun’s pipe sounded throughout the ship and several klaxons went off. Then the familiar voice of Uncle Timmy, the ships AIC commander, came over the 1MC Intercom.

“All hands, all hands, battle stations and to arms. Hostile forces are onboard the ship. Repeat, hostile forces are onboard the ship.”

“Son of a bitch, we’re sitting ducks.” Dee thought for a second on plans of action. Davy pulled her to him and handed her an M-blaster that he’d had in his pack. He had another one in his right hand at the ready.

“Put this on,” Rackman said to her as he handed her an armored ammo vest.

“That’s my SEAL.” She said and pulled the vest over her tank top. The weight of the armor felt good against her breasts but she knew it was a false sense of security. The bots could tear into an e-suit. The light armor flakjacket wouldn’t slow them down very long.

“We need to move. Fast,” Gunny Suez told them. “I locked them out fifty meters or more down the corridor but they’ll find a way in.”

“Let’s go then.” Davy sealed the auto fastener on his flakjacket and held the M-blaster at the ready. “For now on, I’m carrying an HVAR everywhere I go.”

“Not so sure about that lieutenant,” The sergeant replied. “I’m running out of ammo, but those handguns will run for years on one powercell.”

“We should just snap-back to a safe location on the ship, like the ops medbay aft of the ship,” Dee suggested.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Suez replied. “Won’t work. I’ve already tried the emergency snap-back when I was overrun a bit ago. It’s being jammed.”

“No shit?” Davy tapped a command into his wrist band but nothing happened. “Damnit!”

“If it don’t work, it don’t work. Just like on every other bot base we’ve been to. They’ve got QMT jammers. I’ll take point,” Dee said. She snapped a flashlight onto her vest and started to run.

Bree, get Daddy,
she thought to her AIC.

I’m doing what I can to contact Abigail, Dee, but I’m having no luck.
Her AIC responded.

Keep trying.

Damnit, Abigail! Get Dee on the line!

No luck yet, sir
. Abigail said into Alexander’s mind.
That part of the ship is being jammed from coms and any QMT tech.

Alexander Moore bounced and boomed down the hallway like a bowling ball tied to the tail of an elephant with rockets attached to its feet. The booming of his jumpboots slamming into the deckplating with each armored step was nearly deafening. It was all Sehera could do to keep up but he had told her that he was getting to Dee as fast as he could. Sehera had told him to go faster.

Sir, I have an idea,
Abigail said in his mindvoice.

What?

I think the intercom is working throughout the ship. The bots can’t jam soundwaves and hardwires. I’m going to take over them and turn all the mics on to see if I can talk to Dee.

That’s my girl. Do it.

Alexander held his rifle at the ready and had the visor on full visual. The floodlights of the suit were on full and he had earlier given Abigail the order to turn every light on she could find.

“Hang in there, princess. Daddy’s coming!”

“We’re a kilometer from the next hatch and the bots are going to be faster than us on foot,” Dee said. “They’ll beat us there.”