RELOADED

AI REBORN TRILOGY BOOK 2

Isaac Hooke

Contents

Books by Isaac Hooke

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Afterword

About the Author

Acknowledgments

In Closing

Copyright © 2018 by Isaac Hooke

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

www.IsaacHooke.com

Books by Isaac Hooke

Military Science Fiction

AI Reborn Trilogy

Refurbished

Reloaded

Rebooted

ATLAS Trilogy

(published by 47North)

ATLAS

ATLAS 2

ATLAS 3

Alien War Trilogy

Hoplite

Zeus

Titan

Argonauts

Bug Hunt

You Are Prey

Alien Empress

Quantum Predation

Robot Dust Bunnies

City of Phants

Rade’s Fury

Mechs vs. Dinosaurs

A Captain's Crucible

Flagship

Test of Mettle

Cradle of War

Planet Killer

Worlds at War

Space Opera

Star Warrior Quadrilogy

Star Warrior

Bender of Worlds

He Who Crosses Death

Doom Wielder

Science Fiction

The Forever Gate Series

The Dream

A Second Chance

The Mirror Breaks

They Have Wakened Death

I Have Seen Forever

Rebirth

Walls of Steel

The Pendulum Swings

The Last Stand

Thrillers

The Ethan Galaal Series

Clandestine

A Cold Day in Mosul

Terminal Phase

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1

Standing at the cave entrance, Eric gazed at the ever-darkening plains, watching as those bioweapons known as the Red Tails rampaged toward the platoon.

Something struck him from behind.

Two rectangular-shaped weapon mounts dropped to the rocky ledge on either side of him.

He turned his head to glance askance.

Brontosaurus had mounted him.

“Stay still!” the heavy gunner said.

“I told you to shoot me!” Eric said. “Sarge, stop him!” Eric had at least one termite inside of him. Probably more by now: the micro machines could convert metal into more termite units very rapidly. If they didn’t destroy him soon, he’d give birth to hundreds more.

“I’m checking to see if they’ve reached his AI core yet,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric felt a panel opening behind him.

“Gah!” Brontosaurus said. “This is messy. He’s already got ten of them crawling inside of him. The AI core is clear. So far. Hicks, I need your sniping skills! Clear some of these bitches away.”

Eric heard the crunch of footsteps, and then the buzz-hum of a sniper laser as Hicks opened fire at Eric’s innards.

“His internal fans are offline,” Hicks commented between shots. “That seems to have helped keep them away from the core.”

Eric’s arm involuntarily slammed into his face.

“Whoops, missed that one,” Hicks said.

“That’ll do for now,” Brontosaurus said. “I’m removing the AI core. You might want to shut down, Scorp.”

Eric activated his shutdown interface, and the world went black.

* * *

Eric hovered in absolute darkness. He had no body, no mouth. He simply was.

Let me guess, Dee, I’m in the loading stage, Eric thought.

“That is correct, we are in intermedial,” his Accomp replied. The accompanying AI was always with him, though he usually kept her disabled. Privacy, and all.

I wonder if we got away from those bioweapons that were racing toward our position. Maybe when I wake up, the world will be back to normal, and the aliens all gone.

“Or more likely, the world will be conquered by the aliens,” Dee said. “And they are the ones who are booting you now.”

Wonderful, Eric thought. You Accomps are always great at boosting morale.

“That’s our job,” Dee said.

I was being sarcastic.

“So was I,” Dee said.

Eric would have fidgeted in place if he still had a body. He couldn’t shake the growing sense of anxiety as he waited for the intermedial stage to end. It alarmed him slightly, because the last time he booted up like this, he felt complete calm.

I can still feel…

“That is correct,” Dee said. “Since you have broken free of your Containment Code, you will no longer experience the tranquility of ataraxy. Ever. You are ruled by your emotions, like an ordinary man. Even when you have no body.”

All right. That’s what I want, anyway. I want to feel. I need to feel. Because I’m human, regardless of whether the basic substrate of my mind is organic, or machine. A brain, or a neural net.

His Accomp had nothing to say to that.

Dee, you still there?

“Yes,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

I’m afraid. I’m worried about what I’ll find when I wake up.

“As you should be,” Dee said. “Don’t worry, I’ll always be with you.”

Why doesn’t that reassure me?

She didn’t answer right away. Then: “Your time sense is currently at its highest level. Perhaps it would help if I set it to its normal setting.”

Anything to make this anxiety pass by faster…

Only a few more moments passed, and then the world came back into view. He was standing on the ledge, looking down on the plains. The tanks had arrayed to the left and right of him, and were firing into the incoming bioweapons.

He instinctively glanced at his HUD to check the time. Only a minute and a half had passed since he’d gone under. Enough time to position the tanks and mechs, and move him to a different unit.

But his viewpoint was rather high for an ordinary combat robot…

He glanced down at his body, and realized he was inside a Ravager mech. Pounder, specifically.

“Welcome back, Eric,” Brontosaurus said. The heavy gunner let go of the rungs on Eric’s side, and dropped down to the ledge beside him. He walked back toward Eric’s former body, which was riddled with laser bore holes. Apparently the entire team had aimed their rifles and heavy guns at the body, and let rip.

Brontosaurus slid his hands into the slots of the two weapon mounts he’d ejected onto the ground earlier, restoring his heavy guns.

“Why didn’t you put me into a combat robot?” Eric said. “Why a mech?”

“Couldn’t transfer you into a Savage or Breacher unit,” Brontosaurus said. “Your AI core isn’t compatible with either one. The only options were a tank or a mech. I figured you’d prefer the latter option. And the Sarge preferred it, too.”

“What happened to Pounder’s autonomous AI core?” Eric asked.

“It’s fine,” Brontosaurus said. “I moved the old autonomous AI core into a storage compartment in the mech’s leg.”

Eric glanced at his leg, and slid open the aforementioned compartment via the remote interface. The cylindrical core was indeed inside, along with other spare equipment.

He gazed out toward the plain, and directed the laser mounts in his arms toward the Red Tails. He opened fire with both the heavier ZX-15 laser pulse cannon, and the ZX-9, bombarding the enemy with intense bursts of laser light. He concentrated on those that were on the shoulder of the mountain, heading toward the platoon’s position. He would have fired Hellhawks, too, if he still had any of the missiles left.

He’d switched his viewpoint to the scopes of his weapons, of course. The combined viewpoint from each weapon formed a single image on his HUD, allowing him to line up the two targeting crosshairs over the incoming creatures.

Each bioweapon had an elongated, larvae-like head with a maw full of wickedly sharp teeth. Below the head, a red torso with four arms joined with a black, centipede-like body with six legs that had scythe-like spikes protruding from the joints. At the end of the long body was a long tail, topped by a large, reddish glandular sac containing goo that could pin a mech. When the sac broke, the Red Tail in question died.

Those sacs were where Eric and the rest of the team were concentrating their fire. And it was working. Usually a single pulse from a ZX-15 could take out a Red Tail when he targeted the sac. The glandular sphere would explode, releasing the gory red goo, and the bodies would fall. The bioweapons behind them would crawl over the fallen, and usually get stuck in the goo. But more would keep coming, inevitably forming a land bridge, and those in behind would continue unhindered.

As the Bolt Eaters kept up the barrage, the Red Tails all along the line became smart, and started folding their tails behind their bodies, making it difficult to target them. Ordinary laser and electrolaser impacts didn’t bring them down when impacting the other areas of their bodies, at least not right away. The creatures were able to absorb several blows, taking laser impacts to the head, torso, and main body, and still ran on.

“Aim for the joints,” Tread said. “Seems to be the quickest way to disable them. I’ve got my mechs set up on rapid-fire mode, targeting the three joints of the legs on the right side of the body in rapid succession. Brings them right down in one rapid-fire hit.”

Eric made the necessary adjustments, programming the average spacing between the joints into his Accomp, and then he aimed at the leg of one of the Red Tails and fired. Dee took over, jumping his aim from joint to joint, and accounting for the forward motion of the bioweapon, and the creature careened to the right, toppling over on one side.

“It’s all about the hamstrings, baby!” Slate said.

A large portion of the horde had begun to swerve toward the mountain, joining those Red Tails already on the shoulder of the mountain. And even though the team was taking down the enemies at a fervent pace, it was essentially hopeless: there had to be at least ten thousand in total out there.

If not more.

“I’m afraid,” Mickey said.

“We all are,” Crusher said. “But we have to keep fighting.”

“Who’s brilliant idea was it to break free of our Containment Code and restore our emotions again?” Hank said.

“I blame Scorpion,” Manticore said.

“We can master our emotions,” Marlborough said. “We have to. The benefits outweigh the cons. Already, we can open fire on these bastards before they reach us. This is why we broke free of our Containment Code in the first place. We fight on. To the end.”

“Notice that not all of the bioweapons are carrying those alien spears of theirs,” Manticore said. “Maybe one in ten have one, and those that do are distributed throughout the masses.”

“Obviously takes some resources to manufacture,” Tread said. “Resources they apparently want to keep allocated to the termites, for now.”

“Speaking of which, keep your hulls electrified for the time being,” Marlborough said. “We still don’t know if there are any more laggards out there. We don’t need more of you getting infected.”

Unfortunately, because he was now inside a mech, Eric couldn’t actually electrify his hull. If any termite swarms returned, he was toast.

“You know, we still have the spears we collected from previous bioweapons,” Dickson said. The staff sergeant retrieved the metal object from his back, where he had slid it into a gap in the mesh of his harness. The top portion was wrapped in gauze from a med-kit. “We can use these against them, if they get too close.”

Eric’s own alien spear was still present on the wreckage of his old Cicada.

“Hey Mick,” Eric said. “Can you grab the spear from my Cicada?”

“I can,” Mickey said. “And don’t call me Mick.”

“Sorry, bro,” Eric said. “My mind is a bit occupied at the moment.” He aimed his ZX-15 at another leg joint and activated the laser. Once again the smart targeted rapid-fire pulse took out those legs.

“Given the situation, I’ll forgive you,” Mickey said. He leaped onto the rungs that scaled Eric’s body, and stowed it in a slot in the harness that enveloped the left upper bicep of the mech.

“I thought you’d toss it in my storage compartment,” Eric said.

“I don’t think it’d fit.” Mickey leaped down and rejoined the main attack.

“The forerunners are going to be here, soon,” Bambi said. “Tell me we have a plan?”

“We can retreat into the cave,” Dickson said. “And hold them off. It’s the perfect choke point.”

“They’ll try to push forward, forcing us back,” Marlborough said. “With the collapse inside the tunnel, we’ll have nowhere to retreat to. With our backs against the wall, we won’t have room to fight… they’ll crush us.”

“Then we don’t let them force us back,” Manticore said. “We have mechs and tanks with us. We’ll place those in the front. They’ll have a hell of a time breaking through. I’d like to see them try. Flesh versus metal, people.”

“You forget some of them have those alien spears,” Frogger said. “A touch from one of those spears will instantly disable a tank or mech.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Manticore said.

“Maybe we can dig through the collapse so we’re not trapped?” Crusher said.

“No time,” Mickey said. “Especially without any shells, missiles, or demolition blocks left. The lasers and electrolasers on the tanks won’t cut it.”

Eric slowed his time sense down to the max, so that the incoming Red Tails froze entirely. Then he studied his overhead map. There had to be a way out of this...

He sent out a comm notice to the Bolt Eaters, requesting they all join him at his current time sense.

One by one green lights appeared next to the different names on his HUD as each member of the unit maxed out his or her time sense.

“So what is it?” Marlborough said when everyone had joined.

“I have an idea,” Eric said.

2

“Check the map. There’s another cave entrance about a kilometer to the north. Leads to the same general cave system. The terrain isn’t too steep… we can reach it, and use that as our choke point. We’ll be able to retreat as deep as we need to.”

“What if there are termites lingering in the cave?” Bambi asked.

“Could be,” Eric said. “But there could also be more out here, as I found out firsthand.” He would have glanced at the wreckage of his old Cicada if his body wasn’t frozen. “Best to keep your skins electrified until further notice.”

Too bad he didn’t have that luxury now that he was inside a mech. He’d have to do some research on how to electrify Pounder’s skin when he had some spare time later.

“All right,” Marlborough said. “We’re going to go for it. Revert to normal time, people. Armored units, robot operators, keep the support units on drag, covering our rear. Cicadas, we’re in the lead. Manticore, you’re on point. Crusher, I want you just behind him. The rest, follow in your usual marching order. Scorpion, you get to join the mechs on drag.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eric said.

Eric reverted back to normal time, and continued firing at the enemy. He waited as each of the team members leaped off the ledge, and landed on the rocky trail below them. Then he and the other mechs jumped onto the trail, while the tanks followed. Those big treads were easily able to surmount any obstacles on the surface, and they moved just as fast as the leading Cicadas.

The Abrams continued to fire their lasers, and the Jupiters their electrolasers. Eric had Dee control his forward advancement, while he kept his aim on the pursuing Red Tails.

Those creatures moved with incredible speed—having six legs would confer a speed boost to anyone, he supposed. In moments, members of the vanguard began to reach the tank line. The armored units couldn’t target all of them at once, and one of the Red Tails got through. It landed on an Abrams and promptly smashed its glandular sac onto the unit. The sac burst open, killing the creature, and smearing the tank in goo, which caused it to immediately come to a halt.

“Protect the tanks!” Eric said.

Another group of Red Tails approached another tank. Along with that particular tank, Eric and the others unleashed their laser weapons against the group, and took most of them down. But then one Red Tail emerged from behind the others, this one carrying a spear—it had used those in front as a shield. It promptly leaped onto the tank and smashed its spear into the unit. Sparks went up from the tank, and it went offline.

Eric immediately shot down that creature, but another Red Tail behind it took up the spear. Eric shot that one, too, but then lost sight of it as more Red Tails dashed in front and into his line of fire.

A bright blue light drew his attention to a different area of the herd, where a larger bioweapon loomed above the others. It was essentially the same shape as the other creatures, except its bulbous tail was black, rather than red, and it carried some sort of glowing cannon on its back. A cannon that was growing brighter with each second.

It was aimed toward the fleeing Bolt Eaters.

Eric considered trying to fire at that unit, but that cannon could release any second.

“Scatter!” Eric transmitted instead.

He activated his jumpjets, as did other mechs around him. The tanks, meanwhile, randomly swerved to the left and right, thanks to Tread and Hank. The other Cicadas and support robots also spread apart.

The weapon became blindingly bright, and released a stream of concentrated energy directly at the fleeing Bolt Eaters. It landed where the tanks had been concentrated only a moment earlier, and carved a large crater into the ground. Rocks were sent flying into the air by the resultant shockwave.

“The hell!” Slate said. “They got energy weapons? Frickin’ aliens got energy weapons!”

Eric landed, and lined up his two crosshairs over the larger Black Tail in question, aiming at the weapon it carried on its broad back, and fired. A small half circle of light flashed into existence, a few meters in front of where the laser was supposed to have hit. There was some kind of energy field protecting the creature from the attack. He was reminded of the invisible dome he had seen back at Malibu base, which had kept the Red Tails penned. That same technology could be used to protect them, apparently. Or some of them.

“I can’t shoot the Black Tail harboring that weapon,” Eric said.

More Red Tails had closed with the trailing tanks then, and Eric diverted his aim to help stave them off. The other units remained in their scattered positions, in anticipation of that energy weapon firing again.

“Neither can any of my units,” Tread said. “It’s surrounded by some sort of energy shielding system.”

“Figures!” Slate said. “Energy weapons. Energy shields. Why do aliens always get the best tech?”

“Bro, that’s because they’re aliens,” Hank said. “By their very nature, they’re going to have superior weapons. If they have the technology to fly all the way to Earth, and to cause a nearby star to collapse and release a targeted stream of gamma rays toward Earth along the way, I’d hazard a guess that their technology is far superior to ours in general.”

“And yet the aliens are dumb enough not to include lockouts in their weapons?” Slate said. “Allowing us to scoop up their spears and use the tech against them, for example?”

“Hey, these are aliens,” Mickey told him. “We can’t know what they’re thinking. It’ll be completely foreign to our own. For all we know, allowing us to use those spears was intentional. Maybe it’s all part of their grand game: taking over a planet has got to be immense sport for them. It would be for me if I was conquering a lesser species. When I was a kid, I used to kick big holes in anthills, and then take a leak onto the ants that rushed to the surface to attack their intruder. I’d watch as the ants, soaked in my piss, struggled in vain to find their attacker. Sport, people.”

“Thanks for that image,” Crusher said.

“Somehow I doubt these aliens have the minds of children,” Marlborough said. “But your point is taken. Evasive maneuvers!”

The energy weapon glowed a bright blue once again.

Eric began zig-zagging, to decrease his chances of getting targeted, as did the other units.

The energy weapon came in, striking one of the Abrams. The unit melted to the rocky ground, becoming a burned out husk that was ripped apart a moment later by the resultant shockwave produced by the impact.

“I’ll handle that thing,” Eric said, slowing down.

“You sure?” Marlborough asked.

“Someone’s got to do it,” Eric said.

“Buddy system,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric was about to ask what he meant, when he noticed the blue dot representing Brontosaurus closing on his position.

“Bronto…” Eric said. “Maybe a mech might be a better buddy.”

“I won’t have it,” Brontosaurus said.

“What about you, Frogger?” Eric asked on a direct line to his mind twin. He had expected Frogger to be the one volunteering to join him, considering their shared background.

“If you really need my help, I’ll come,” Frogger replied. “But like you said, I think a mech would be a better buddy. I’ll just get in the way, especially with Bronto joining you already. He’d take offense if I intervened now.”

“All right,” Eric said. He realized he probably shouldn’t have said anything. If Eric fell, Frogger would only feel guilty, especially with the Containment Code gone.

Well, it’s only right that he feel guilty. I’m the closest thing he has out here to family.

Eric realized that wasn’t necessarily true. He considered everyone here his family by this point.

A proximity alarm sounded, and Eric instantly switched to Bullet Time. He moved his viewpoint to his eyes, instead of his weapon scopes, and spotted a spear hurtling toward him. One of the Red Tails had thrown it.

Eric swiveled his body to the side, and narrowly avoided the impact. The spear landed rattling on the ground harmlessly behind him.

Eric returned his point of view to his weapons, and aimed the crosshairs over the Red Tail he figured was most likely to have launched the spear.

Then he returned his time sense to normal and fired. He took out its legs, and it toppled.

He realized he could use Bullet Time more often now that he was inside a mech with a greater power supply. So as he waited for Brontosaurus, he occasionally utilized the increased time sense to more readily line up shots.

Brontosaurus reached him and leaped onto Eric’s back above the jumpjets.

“All right,” Eric said. “You might want to hang on.”

Eric heard a clunk, and realized Brontosaurus had released one of his heavy guns, attaching it to Eric’s back via a magnetic mount. Brontosaurus then leaned over Eric’s shoulder and slid the alien spear from the mech’s bicep via the black haft.

“What part about hanging on did you not understand?” Eric asked his friend.

Brontosaurus returned to the back area. “I’ve latched on with my magnetic mounts. Do your worst.”

Eric folded the ballistic shield into his left arm, keeping the ZX-15 pulse cannon in his right, and weaved his way between the bioweapon vanguard. He took out their glandular tails whenever he had a clean shot, otherwise he targeted the leg joints on one flank, or simply bashed them aside with his shield when they came too close.

Brontosaurus meanwhile fired his remaining heavy gun at point-blank range, but that usually wasn’t enough to stop a bioweapon unless he hit the red sac, as the leg joints could stand up to quite a lot of punishment from the smaller guns, even from the heavy versions.

Sometimes a Red Tail would attack from one of the flanks. Brontosaurus was always there to strike out with the alien spear, which felled any attackers without fail, enveloping the stricken tango in a stream of sparks.

Eric encountered a few more spear-wielding Red Tails along the way. They didn’t throw their weapons like that one creature had; he deftly dodged their attacks before taking them down. He smashed the tail of one such bioweapon, and retracted his shield to scoop up the body in that hand, to use as a bludgeon against the others in his path. The dead ragdoll still clung to its spear, and whenever the metal touched one of the other entities, the bioweapons became covered in sparks and fell. He kept firing his ZX-15 with his other hand.

The Black Tail unleashed its energy weapon a few more times at the platoon behind him. As Eric got closer, the Black Tail steered the weapon directly toward him. It began to glow.

Eric switched to Bullet Time as the glow intensified, and fired his jumpjets a moment before it fired. As he flew out of the way, he restored time to its normal pace, and below him the energy beam smashed into one of the Red Tails, melting its body entirely. The beam hit the ground and released a shockwave that tore apart other nearby bioweapons, sending their body parts scattering.

“We gotta get our hands on that weapon,” Brontosaurus said.

“That’s the plan,” Eric said.

Eric carved his way through the smaller bioweapons that surrounded the Black Tail, bashing and firing his weapon at their legs at point blank range, while Brontosaurus whacked them with the alien spear.

“Take that, bitch!” Brontosaurus said. “Who’s your daddy?”

“Throw the spear!” Eric said.

Brontosaurus did so. Before it could strike, a Red Tail leaped into its path, and took the killing blow.

Eric reached the Black Tail, which was a little taller than his mech, and fired his jumpjets. He swung the ragdoll that held the spear, hoping it would penetrate, and aimed for the neck. But the creature shot out an arm, passing it right through the limits Eric had recorded for the energy shield; the oak-like arm hit the dead Red Tail, arresting its momentum.

Eric continued forward, his body heading toward the armored back of the centipede region, and the energy cannon it held. But before he could touch it, he hit what felt like a solid wall: the energy field. It flashed in a convex pattern where he struck, about two meters in front of the creature, absorbing all his forward momentum. He began to drop.

The creature released the dead Red Tail, and flung out the two thick arms on that side of its torso. Its fists passed through the energy field, striking Eric. He switched to Bullet Time, and released the ragdoll to latch onto those arms before they could withdraw, and it drew him inward. As he struck the energy shield, once more he was halted, and the bioweapon wrenched its arms from his grasp.

Eric completed the drop to the ground.

Other bioweapons rushed forward, obviously intending to trample and pin him. He was still running on Bullet Time, so he reacted faster than the aliens. Moving quickly, he shot out the joints of the three aliens that were coming for him, then he picked up the alien ragdoll in his free hand and once more swung it toward the Black Tail.

The spear yet gripped in the hands of the dead alien struck the dome and penetrated. The creature tried to react, but was too slow, and the spear hit it in the neck. Sparks enveloped the Black Tail and it promptly collapsed. When the large creature thudded to the ground, its black glandular sac erupted, spreading a pool of black goo that encroached upon Eric.

He had Bullet Time still activated, so he leaped onto the back of the fallen bioweapon to avoid the spreading goo. Meanwhile, all the bioweapons nearby were caught by it. That would give Eric some time…

As other Red Tails raced over the bodies of those trapped by the goo, Brontosaurus ripped the spear from the Black Tail’s neck.

“I’ll watch your back!” Brontosaurus said, his voice sounding normal despite the Bullet Time—Brontosaurus had matched Eric’s time sense. That was easy to do via remote syncing: Eric had given Dee permission to share his time sense with his platoon at all times. “Try to make it quick!”

Eric studied the cannon for a moment. It was a cylindrical thing, with blue panels arcing up and down the left and right flanks, hinting at the power it contained. The tip seemed to be embedded directly inside the base of the Black Tail’s neck.

Eric rotated his ZX-15 mount out of the way, so that both of his hands were freed, and then wrapped his fingers around the thick cannon and began to pull. His servomotors groaned in complaint, but he refused to let up. Instead, he increased the power output.

Finally he felt the cannon beginning to give, and he continued pulling. It was like trying to yank off an integral part of one’s body, for example an arm or leg.

In moments he ripped it free entirely, along with a good portion of the Black Tail’s brain and spinal column in the process. And a whole lot of black blood.

“So they keep their brains in their carapaces after all,” Brontosaurus commented.

Eric flung the cannon and its dangling neural tissue over one shoulder, then restored his time sense to normal and retreated.

“One alien weapon, secured,” he transmitted.

3

Eric rotated his ballistic shield into his left hand, while he hung onto the prized cannon on his shoulder with his right, and bashed his way through the noose of Red Tails that had appeared around his position.

“You got magnetic mounts in your storage compartment?” Brontosaurus asked.

“I should,” Eric replied, taking out the legs of the latest Red Tail. “Why?” A proximity alert sounded, and he narrowly dove out of the path of a thrown alien spear.

Brontosaurus attached his second unmounted heavy gun to Eric’s back, then shifted, swiveling over to the front of Eric’s body, using the rungs for support as Eric ran and bashed. Brontosaurus opened the storage panel, retrieved a couple of magnetic mounts, and then climbed back to the shoulder region.

“What are you doing?” Eric asked.

“Hope you don’t care about the Hellhawk launcher on your right shoulder,” Brontosaurus said. “Because you crushed it into submission with that cannon.”

“Yeah, not much I can do about that,” Eric said.

Brontosaurus applied the mounts to the cannon, attaching the alien weapon to Eric’s shoulder and thus freeing up Eric’s right hand once more.

“Your heavy laser is back in play,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric experimentally lowered his arm, and when he was satisfied the cannon wasn’t going to fall, he swiveled his ZX-15 back into place, and used that to take out the legs of the next three Red Tails in his path.

“See if you can figure out what makes that thing fire,” Eric said.

“Since you were kind enough to keep much of the bioweapon’s brain intact,” Brontosaurus said. “I can trace the different neural pathways by sending voltages down each one. I’m sure it’s just a matter of finding the right ganglia necessary to trigger the weapon through the brainstem… at least, that’s my theory. I’m hoping to brute force it.”

Eric was completely swallowed by the vanguard of the herd at that point, but as he made his way to the fore, the Red Tails in front of him began to fall thanks to the laser barrage of the platoon.

According to the overhead map, the Bolt Eaters had reached the next cave already, and the tanks were firing constantly. Or as often as they could, taking into account any overheating.

Without warning the energy cannon began to glow a bright blue.

“Uh, I think I found the trigger,” Brontosaurus said.

“Shut it down!” Eric said. He was running straight toward the cave, and the cannon was pointed directly at them.

“Can’t!” Brontosaurus said.

Eric swung his torso to the right as he continued to run forward.

The weapon fired.

It passed through the right half of a nearby Red Tail, and impacted the rocky ground behind it. The ground exploded, and a close cluster of about ten Red Tails were ripped apart in the process.

“Nice one,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric swung his torso back to the front, and continued his approach to the cave. The slope here was a little steeper than the previous land, and he was forced to slow down.

“How long will the neural tissue last without a body providing the usual sustenance?” Eric said. “You know, via a working blood stream.”

“These neurons are interesting things,” Brontosaurus said. “They seem to be self-sustaining. With chlorophyll in the actual cells as a backup energy system.”

“This explains why the aliens are able to keep coming at us, even when we fill them with laser holes,” Eric said. “I’m guessing it only works in the sunlight, then? When it gets dark, or we enter a cave, will the neural cells still function?”

“I think so,” Brontosaurus said. “The cells all contain mitochondria, and other storage sinks, which could be used to store any excess energy produced from sunlight.”

“Will the brain die if we exhaust the energy store?” Eric said. “Rendering the cannon useless?”

“Don’t think so,” Brontosaurus said. “Does a tree die at night? Just like Earth plants, it can store enough energy to last through any doldrums. As long as you don’t fire it all night or something, we should be okay.”

“Bioengineering…” Eric said. “It creeps the hell out of me.”

“You and me both,” Brontosaurus said. “Especially when it’s done by aliens, and with DNA harvested from our own flora and fauna.”

“Can you link the appropriate ganglial trigger in the brainstem up to some kind of remote sparker?” Eric asked.

“I got just the thing,” Brontosaurus said. Eric glanced at his rear view mirror, and watched as the heavy gunner retrieved a small box from his utility belt and shoved the ganglial tip into it. “Try accessing this remote interface.”

Eric dismissed the video feed and bashed away the next Red Tail. For the most part, the path ahead was clear all the way to the cave entrance, thanks to the efforts of the platoon, who kept the shoulder of the mountain free of the vanguard. For now.

“Do you get anything?” Brontosaurus asked.

“Just a second,” Eric said. He scanned for new interfaces. His HUD populated with one addition, labeled Spock’s Brain.

“Funny,” Eric said.

“Thought you’d like it,” Brontosaurus said.

“I didn’t know you had been keeping up on twentieth century space shows,” Eric said.

“Frogger convinced me to check out the series a while ago,” Brontosaurus said. “It’s hilarious that people actually believed we’d be gallivanting across the stars by now.”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “It’s too bad we haven’t achieved spaceflight yet. Might have saved us from a bunch of problems. Specifically, the current one.”

Eric pulled up the interface for Spock’s Brain. There was only one option. Fire.

“There’s no targeting data?” Eric asked.

“Sec.” Brontosaurus attached a laser site to the top of the device, and a moment later a functional crosshairs overlaid Eric’s HUD.

Eric spun his torso once more, aimed the crosshairs at a group of Red Tails behind him, and focused on the Fire option.

The energy weapon began to glow blue.

One of the Red Tails threw a spear at him. Eric adjusted his aim slightly, so when the energy beam emerged a moment later, it included the incoming spear in its trajectory.

The weapon was completely incinerated, and when the energy beam hit the creatures, they exploded in a pleasant cluster of body parts.

“Nice,” Eric said. “This thing does more damage than a Hellhawk.”

“I’d rate it at about the same as a precision bomb,” Brontosaurus said. “Also, I think it has different charge modes.”

“What do you mean?” Eric said.

“Well, the longer you charge it, the more damage it will do,” Brontosaurus said. “I’m comparing it to how much damage you did versus the Black Tail… when the creature was in control of the weapon, it took a lot longer to release the energy beam than you did, with the glow slowly becoming blinding.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eric said. “Must have a hell of a power source.”

“Definitely,” the heavy gunner agreed.

“When we get back to the cave, I want you to remove the sparker and do some more experimentation,” Eric said.

“Sounds like fun,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric reached the top of the cave. The Cicadas and combat robots were already inside, while the tanks and mechs remained surrounding the lip.

“Hey, you bitch!” Slate said. “How come you get the fancy ass energy weapon!”

“Because I’m the one who risked my skin to rip it from the alien’s brain?” Eric said.

“Ah, you did at that, I s’pose,” Slate said. “Can I borrow it?”

“Nope,” Eric replied.

He spun about and aimed into the fray. He gave control of the weapon back to Brontosaurus, so the heavy gunner could experiment with the weapon and try to figure out how to charge it. Brontosaurus occasionally fired it, necessitating that Eric keep the cannon pointed at enemy tangos at all times. Eric took control back when things began to get hectic, but the energy cannon needed thirty seconds between firings, so not even that weapon was a panacea.

Eric, as well as the tanks and mechs with him at the entrance, held off the enemy for as long as they could, but the onslaught was relentless. As weapons began to overheat across the board, the armored units pulled inside the tunnel one by one.

Eric was the second last to back into the tunnel. Doing so allowed him to stay near the front, next to another mech, a position he preferred.

The relatively tight tunnel was the perfect chokepoint. He and his team would be able to last here for hours.

Eric used his shield to bash enemy Red Tails backward, and then followed up with a ZX-15 shot. He didn’t bother with the energy cannon of course, because firing it at that close range would cause a shockwave affecting himself and the other nearby members of the platoon.

When his weapon overheated, he swapped places with the mech unit just behind him. Cicadas, who fired between the legs of the mechs, also swapped places when their own weapons overheated.

The enemy units slowly pushed them back, but they paid a heavy price: the bioweapon bodies piled up. At first, while they were still near the cave entrance, the Red Tails had done a good job of clearing out the bodies of their companions. But as they forced the Bolt Eaters deeper into the cave, they began to have trouble emptying the dead, because those who were in behind couldn’t take cover past the external walls just outside the cave entrance. They tried to keep their legs hidden behind the bodies of those in front of them, but Marlborough had Bambi and Traps send the Savages crawling onto the dead, where they’d be able to rain fire upon the joints of the bioweapons that were attempting to drag the corpses away. Though the damage they caused was lighter than the tanks and mechs, it would inevitably cause the stricken Red Tail to panic, and the creature would rise up or flee, and Eric or one of the others would finish the hamstring job.

They also targeted the glandular sacs of the dead bodies, spreading the sticky red goo along the cave floor. That caused trailing Red Tails to get stuck, and made them easy pickings for the platoon.

Soon, the platoon had formed a wall of compacted bodies, illuminated by their headlamps. Many of the Red Tails were still alive, caught in that wall, with the surface a creepy mass of sharp carapaces, elongated heads, and wriggling limbs.

Finally the attack ceased when the plug of bodies became too thick, and all that the Red Tails behind it could do was slowly force the plug forward. Eventually it stopped moving inward entirely, as the Red Tails in behind were no doubt crushed to death, and the mass of dead bodies became too great for the horde outside to budge.

“Well then,” Marlborough said. “Another crisis avoided.”

“Look at those things,” Slate said. “Disgusting. I hate aliens.”

“These aren’t aliens,” Hank said.

“Yeah fine,” Slate said. “But they were made by aliens. Same diff.”

“You got an alien between your legs,” Eagleeye said.

“I’m not surprised you think that,” Slate said. “Considering how long my dong is compared to yours and everyone else’s.”

“Bro, you don’t have a dong,” Brontosaurus said. “When’s the last time you actually looked at your body?”

“That’s right, go and remind me I’m not human,” Slate said. “After I’ve had my emotions forced on me. I should kick your ass for that. And in fact I would, were the circumstances different.”

“Emotions,” Crusher said. “Yes. I feel such… relief. I just want to sit down and cry. But I can’t. I don’t have tear ducts.”

“I’d be crying with relief right now myself if I had ‘em,” Traps said.

“You would,” Slate said. “Are you sure you were a man when you were alive?”

“Pretty sure, yes,” Traps said.

“Okay Bolt Eaters, I want some scouts sent deeper,” Marlborough said. “Some of those Red Tails will no doubt be searching for another cave entrance so they can come at us from behind. We can’t let that happen. I want advance warning if they show up.”

Bambi sent three Savages forward to act as scouts. She strung them out so their comm nodes could act as repeaters.

In about five minutes she reported: “My lead Savage is reporting a blockage.”

“A blockage?” Marlborough asked.

“That’s affirmative,” Bambi said. “Looks like the roof caved in. Though there’s a small gap near the top, forming a crawlspace. We could probably send the Savage inside.” She paused. “Scratch that. I just lost contact with my Savage.”

“Well that’s… interesting,” Marlborough said. “All right, looks like we’re going to have to secure our rear quarters. Prepare to move out, Bolt Eaters.”

4

They retreated in single file down the passageway, letting the tanks go first, followed by the mechs, including Eric, and the support robots. The Cicadas brought up the rear, with one of the Jupiters following on drag. Meanwhile they left a few of the Savages strung out behind them to monitor the collapse, in case the Red Tails managed to break through.

The long line of Bolt Eaters passed the first Savage robot Bambi had left in place to scout. When they reached the second scout, Bambi had it move forward.

Eric accessed the video feed of the lead unit and placed it in the upper right of his vision. In a few moments the broken body of the lead Savage came into view, lying on the floor up ahead. Currently, the cave-in was not in view.

“Hold,” Marlborough said. “Zoom in on the body.”

The scout zoomed in on the wreckage of the Savage. The AI core area had a laser bore hole drilled straight through.

“Who did this?” Dunnigan asked. The only survivor of the English battalion had a distinctly British accent. “The Russian?”

“Dunno,” Marlborough said. “Could be. Bolt Eaters, move up.”

The rest of the Bolt Eaters approached, taking up a position behind the scout.

“Bambi, pull back the scout,” Marlborough said. “Tread, I want the lead tank to take its place. Have it send out a transmission on all frequencies. Identify us and our platoon.”

“Roger that,” Tread said.

Eric switched his feed to that of the lead tank, and watched it approach.

A figure abruptly appeared on the video transmission: a man, carrying a laser rifle strapped over one shoulder. His face was covered in a balaclava, and he wore thick goggles—no doubt the augmented reality kind, so he could share data with any others with him.

“Insurgents!” Hank said.

The man tossed something toward the tank and retreated from view.

“Grenade!” Tread said.

The bomb detonated, and the view momentarily filled with smoke.

“The tank’s armor was weakened, but it’s otherwise unharmed,” Tread said.

“All right, looks like we got some survivors,” Marlborough said. “It’s too bad they’re on the wrong side.”

“The mountains apparently protected them from the gamma ray burst that killed all life in the region,” Crusher said.

“What, are the rocks made of lead or something?” Slate asked.

“I’m detecting concentrations of lead in the walls, yes,” Mickey replied.

“What do you want to do, Sarge?” Tread said.

“If we were to follow our mission parameters, we’d destroy this nest of insurgents,” Marlborough said. “But seeing as they could be some of the last few humans alive in this part of the world, I’m reluctant to do so, despite their toxic ideologies. Tread, keep sending out a transmission. Tell them we don’t want to hurt them. That we’re here to help. Include some footage from our Cicadas, to show them what the world looks like out there. Make sure to include some of the bioweapons.”

“They’ll probably think it’s a trick?” Brontosaurus said. “That we doctored the footage.”

“I don’t know about that,” Frogger said. “They’ve probably seen a few things themselves, otherwise they wouldn’t have barricaded themselves inside.”

“We’re getting a comm request,” Mickey said.

“Put it through,” Marlborough said.

A few words of Arabic came over the comm. Eric’s translation chip converted the words into something he could understand: “You are with the allies? Don’t fire! We’re Kurds!”

“You’re not insurgents?” Marlborough asked in Arabic.

“No!” came the reply. “We thought you were aliens. That is only why we fired.”

“Last I checked, we weren’t aliens,” Marlborough said. “Can we get your guarantee that you won’t try to attack us again?”

“You have my personal guarantee, yes,” the man said. “I am Al-Khayr. I run this region.”

“Well lookee here,” Slate said. “I just checked the dude’s name in my local database. If he’s telling the truth, he’s one of our main allies in the region. A warlord. He used to own quite a few poppy fields until the foreign fighters started burning them. He didn’t like that. These caves are a part of his territory, and he uses them as his base of operations to stage attacks on groups of roving insurgents. Or at least he used to.”

“Yeah, he’s not doing much foreigner hunting now, is he?” Bambi said.

“Bambi, send another Savage forward,” Marlborough said.

“You got it,” Bambi said.

Eric piped the video feed from its viewpoint into his HUD and positioned it in the upper right of his vision.

He watched as the robot approached the wreckage of the first Savage, slowly rounding the bend until the collapse was in sight. An armed man in a balaclava stood in front of it, along with another man. No wait, that was a woman, judging from the anatomy. Though her face was also masked.

“We are sheltered inside.” The masked man beckoned toward the wall. “You are welcome to join us, if you wish.”

“Send the Savage through,” Marlborough said.

The Savage climbed the cave-in, and pulled itself into the small gap between the roof and the top of the debris, which proved little more than a crawlspace. The robot pulled itself forward three meters, until it reached the other side.

Another man was waiting there, this one not wearing a mask; his face was covered in a thick beard. He helped the robot down.

“I am Al Qat,” the man said. “I’ll take you to Al-Khayr.”

“Qat?” Bambi said through the Savage’s speakers. “Like the addictive leaf?” It was a nasty habit that had survived through the centuries. Eric had met his share of human allies in the region who were addicted to the stuff; they kept thick lumps of the leaves shoved under one cheek at all times, which made half their faces look like chipmunks.

“Exactly like,” Qat said. “Though we don’t have any left, unfortunately.” He brightened slightly. “Perhaps you have brought some?”

“Sorry, we have no Qat,” Bambi said.

The man led the Savage through the tunnel, which soon opened into a wider cavern. The two armed guards by the entrance nodded when they saw Qat.

He led the Savage into the cavern. Floodlights provided illumination, so the Savage was able to deactivate its headlamp. Men, women and children were huddled in what Eric thought were groups of extended families. The faces of young and old alike were covered in grime, and weary. Most of the younger men had laser rifles close at hand.

Each group usually sat near several crates, which likely contained food stores.

There was a sickly scent of sulphur suffusing the area. And it grew stronger as the moments passed.

When Qat passed a common latrine, Eric knew the source. He quickly muted the olfactory data returned by the Savage.

“I thought I smelled shit,” Slate said. “Whew! This is one of those times where you remember why being human sucks.”

There was a fan spinning nearby, but evidently it didn’t help.

A small hydroponics area had been set up beyond the latrine, inside a miniature geodesic dome. It looked like they were growing carrots.

There was also a small atmospheric generator next to it, responsible for scrubbing the carbon dioxide from the cave environment, and adding oxygen. A power cord led away along the floor. Eric couldn’t see where it terminated, because it passed underneath a pair of crates, and he lost site of it.

“How are you powering all this?” Bambi asked the question on his mind.

“Batteries,” Qat answered. “We used to have solar panels lining the mountain, but we lost those, in the attack. We have enough power stored to last us a week, though.”

When the video signal began to degrade, Bambi sent another Savage forward to act as a repeater to bolster the comms.

Qat led the first robot to a group of men seated on the cave floor. They were sharing a piece of flatbread about the size of a manhole cover. As Eric watched, they broke pieces from the bread and bit into them.

They all looked up as Qat and the Savage arrived.

“Ah,” one of the men said. “Our American friends. I am Al-Khayr. Join us.” The man pointed to the ground beside him, and Bambi directed the robot to sit.

“Give me control of the robot,” Marlborough said.

“It’s yours,” Bambi said.

“Have you sealed off this entire cavern to the outside world?” Marlborough asked.

“We have,” the warlord said. “When communications went down, I sent men to the surface to investigate. They discovered that all of our livestock had fallen dead. We sent men to the nearby village. The locals weren’t answering our comm pings. When the men arrived, they learned that all of the inhabitants were dead… suffering radiation burns.

“That was when the first swarm arrived: the devil machines swept over the land, devouring all metal. My men leaped into their vehicles, and raced back here as fast as they were able, sending a transmission of warning before they arrived. We sealed the cave entrance shortly after they reached us. All entrances. That prevented the devil machines from devouring us, too.

“We waited a day, and then dug a small hole through one of the sealed entrances. Our scouts on the surface reported strange bands of alien creatures roving the plains. We set up remote cameras to observe the cave entrance, along with a repeater to boost the signal, and then retreated here, resealing the cave-in. The devil swarm arrived a half day later, and it destroyed our cameras. We had only just dug ourselves out to explore, when we encountered your scout. My men panicked—wouldn’t you, if you were us? And opened fire.”

“It’s understandable,” Marlborough said. “If I was in your place, I would have probably fired, too.”

Al-Khayr sat back, and examined the men seated with him. “My advisors.”

Marlborough nodded at them, via the Savage.

“How many humans are with you?” the warlord asked.

“We’re a completely roboticized unit,” Marlborough replied. “Operated by Mind Refurbs. We call ourselves the Bolt Eaters.”

“Ah,” Al-Khayr said. “Bolt Eaters. This means, you eat bolts, no?”

“Not literally,” Marlborough said.

“You robots, and your strange names,” the warlord said.

“We’re not just robots,” Marlborough said. “We’re Mind Refurbs.”

Al-Khayr shrugged. “As you say. You are an American robot, yes?”

Eric could almost imagine Marlborough mentally gritting his teeth.

“We are mostly American, yes,” Marlborough said. “With one British.”

“I can detect the accent,” the warlord said. “Your Arabic is… Anglicized. Your built in translators can never get it right.”

Marlborough remained silent.

“So…” Al-Khayr continued. “Aliens have invaded.”

“They have,” Marlborough said.

“I assume you have come here to escape them, just as we have,” Al-Khayr said.

“That would be a correct assumption,” Marlborough said.

“So even with all of your advanced technology, you ran,” the warlord said. “Your technology couldn’t save you.”

Marlborough didn’t answer.

“Can you update us on the situation, and the world outside?” Al-Khayr asked. “I told you everything I know, learned firsthand from the attacks against us. Now I would like to hear what you know.”

“Well, apparently this entire hemisphere was hit by a space borne gamma ray attack,” Marlborough said. “You survived, because you were in these caves when the rays struck. Your cattle, and the villages, weren’t so lucky.”

Marlborough then described the different trials the team had faced against the bioweapons, and the swarm, ever since the original gamma ray attack. He also imparted what the English battalion leader had shared with the Bolt Eaters: the ICBM attack against the alien mothership that had caused it to flee behind the moon, the storm of micro machines and bioweapons that swept across their irradiated nation at that very moment, and the failed nuke attempts staged against that storm. As well as the emissions produced by those bioweapons that seemed intended to terraform the planet.

“So it truly is the end of the world,” Al-Khayr said. “What are a few humans, and a handful of robots, supposed to do against such an assault as this?”

“Not very much,” Marlborough admitted. “Other than try to survive. And trust me when I say this, we’ll do everything in our power to ensure you live. Every human life is precious at this point. If we’re able to repel this invasion, we’ll need all the people we can get to help repopulate the planet.”

Slate sent out a sync request, and all the Mind Refurbs increased their time sense to max.

“Why don’t we just load them all into Mind Refurbs?” Slate said. “And forget about repopulating the planet.”

“It’s probably a good thing they can’t hear you right now,” Hank said. “I don’t think that would go over well with the warlord and his advisors.”

“Why not?” Slate said. “We’d be making them way more powerful than they are now. And essentially granting them immortality.”

Immortality.

Eric hadn’t considered that, until now. If he didn’t die fighting these aliens, then he’d live forever. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stand it. One millennium would pass. Then another. And another. The world would change until it was completely unrecognizable, and yet he would be the same. He would carry his sorrows with him for all eternity.

And yet, he would also carry all his joys.

Yes, he had mixed feelings about immortality.

“Beside, there are far too few of them,” Slate said. “You need at least a hundred and sixty genetically distinct individuals to properly repopulate a species.”

“You need to include reproductive tech in your calculation,” Eagleeye said. “Even if these were the only survivors, with reproductive tech in hand, humanity could easily start anew.”

“Yeah, but from such a limited DNA base,” Slate said. “Yikes.”

“You forget that there are others still alive on the far hemisphere of the planet,” Dickson said.

“But not for long,” Slate said.

Marlborough ended the sync request, and Eric’s time sense returned to normal.

Al-Khayr was only answering Marlborough’s statement now. “I thank you for your concern. But perhaps we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. We still need to actually survive, first. If these aliens are changing our atmosphere, then we won’t last very long, unless we intend to become cave dwellers forever. We need to come up with some sort of plan. There has to be a way to hamper that devil storm.”

“I agree,” Marlborough said. “But we don’t have any idea how that might be possible, not yet. We haven’t even been able to capture any of the micro machines yet.”

“You haven’t?” Al-Khayr said. He seemed shocked. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Your technology didn’t help you all that much in the different attacks you faced. You barely escaped with your lives.” Al-Khayr stood. “Come with me.”

Marlborough stood the Savage to its feet, and followed Al-Khayr.

“Where are we going?” Marlborough asked as the pair winded between the different families.

“You Americans, you like surprises, yes?” the warlord asked.

“Not particularly,” Marlborough said.

Al-Khayr reached a curtained off area of the cave, where two rifle-totting guards had been posted. The guards stood aside, allowing the robot and the warlord to enter.

Within, two more armed guards stood watch above a humming machine. It was composed of two vertical plates. A cord led away from those plates, passing underneath the curtains, no doubt connecting to the central battery array that powered the cavern.

In the middle of the plates, a small object was suspended.

The Savage zoomed in. The object in question had insect-like legs, a proboscis between two mandibles, and tiny wings.

Eric would have gasped if he were human.

Suspended between the two plates was an alien termite.

5

“Where the hell did you get this?” Marlborough asked.

“The devil machine?” Al-Khayr replied.

“That, and the containment field itself,” Marlborough said.

“You Americans gave it to us,” the warlord said. “Now you understand why I was so surprised.

“In addition to most of our weapons. The containment field is a trap, meant to capture insurgent spy drones. It worked very well on the devil machine.”

“We can finally conduct experiments on them,” Marlborough said. “This could mean a breakthrough!”

“Perhaps,” Al-Khayr said.

“We need your permission to study this specimen,” Marlborough said.

Al-Khayr pursed his lips. “We have done some experimenting ourselves... introducing metal into the containment field, for example. It produces more of itself.”

“What happened to the copies?” Marlborough asked.

“We incinerated them with concentrated laser beams,” Al-Khayr said. “You must understand, I have had difficulty justifying even keeping one of these machines alive. The advisers constantly urge me to destroy it. They are afraid it will break free, despite all the backups we’ve applied to the power supply.”

“Well, considering what these things are capable of, that doesn’t surprise me,” Slate said to the team. “I’d probably be arguing to do the same.”

“This is why we keep curtains around the area,” Al-Khayr said. “So as not to alert the common people. If they knew what we harbored, they would likely destroy it themselves.”

“How many units will you let me bring in here to study it?” Marlborough asked.

Once more Al-Khayr seemed hesitant to commit. “If I allow this, you need to promise me you will employ every measure possible to ensure the devil machine does not break free.”

“As I told you, your lives are our top priority,” Marlborough said. “We’ll do nothing to endanger your tribe. We’ll have troops targeting the micro machine with their laser rifles at all times, ready to fire should even the smallest thing go wrong.”

The warlord studied the robot. “It’s too bad this model does not have facial features. I can trust a robot more, when it has them.”

“I can come in there personally if you wish,” Marlborough said. “My Cicada unit is equipped with a full array of facial LEDs.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Al-Khayr said. “You may send five units. Finding a way to defeat the invaders is in our best interests.”

“And so it is,” Marlborough said. He disconnected from the Savage. Eric knew, because the name in the lower right of the video feed became “Bambi” once more. “Hicks, Tread, Slate, Eagleeye, Frogger. I want you in there. You’re my best programmers and engineers.”

Eric felt a bit disappointed at being excluded, but realized there was no way he could go in there anyway, given his mech couldn’t fit the tight gap at the top of the collapse, at least until they were given permission to clean that gap out. Which didn’t seem likely.

“Ha!” Slate shouted over his shoulder as he climbed the collapsed rock. “Hurry up and wait, bitches! Bend over and take it up the ass as the army Brass commands you!”

“Slate, you’ll be staying behind, because of that remark,” Marlborough said. “Hank, please join the other four.”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Slate said, letting go of the debris. “Sometimes I can’t control my robot side.”

“That’s right, blame your robot side for the problem,” Eagleeye said.

“Hold your tongue, Eagleeye,” Marlborough said. “Or I just might make you stay here, too.”

Eric watched the five units crawl up the cave-in and into the gap, before they vanished. He could still see their indicators on the overhead map.

There was nothing for the rest of the platoon to do but wait.

Eric wanted to have Brontosaurus continue experimenting with the cannon, but there was no way to do so in the confined space, especially considering the shock wave the energy weapon produced upon impact. There just wasn’t enough room.

Eric decided to work on a way to electrify his hull plating instead. He brainstormed different potential solutions with Brontosaurus, but none of them were doable, at least not with the equipment they had available. Eventually Eric had to admit to himself that it just wasn’t possible.

He’d simply have to ensure that none of those termites ever touched him.

A difficult proposition, at best. But then again, given the way the electrolasers on the Jupiters could arc between the micro machines, if any swarms arrived, those tanks would make short work of them. That, and the energy weapon Eric now wielded.

It was the sneaky individual termites that showed up without a swarm that he was worried about.

Eric looked at the Cicadas, arrayed in a group past the tanks, and noticed Mickey wasn’t among them. Instead, the comm operator was loitering on one of the tanks, plugged in to recharge. Eric glanced at his own charge, and decided to join him.

He plugged into the unit using one of the mech-sized chargers, and then stood beside the tank, because his Ravager wouldn’t fit on top like Mickey.

“Hey Scorp,” Mickey said.

Eric nodded. “Mick.”

The two were quiet for a few minutes.

“Do you miss him?” Eric asked.

“Who? Donald?” Mickey replied.

Eric nodded.

“Of course I do,” Mickey said. “We comm officers stick together. On base, we did everything together. We hung out in the same VR environments. We even shared bunks in the same virtual bedroom. We were as close as brothers. Closer.”

Eric closed his simulated eyes, which caused his cameras to momentarily shut off. When he opened them again, he looked at his brother. “He was my brother, too. They all were. And my sister. Morpheus... I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“I slept with her, you know,” Mickey said.

“You did?” Eric turned toward the comm officer in shock. “Oh.”

“We all have,” Mickey said. “Sometimes just her, sometimes with Bambi at the same time.”

“And here I thought I was special,” Eric said.

“It’s part of their psychological hazing method,” Mickey said. “The girls want to make sure we’ll protect them when the shit hits the fan out in the field. So they make us sleep with them, and hope we form an emotional bond. It was kind of hard to do that before, what with our emotions suppressed. I’m guessing if we slept with them in VR now, we’d be a lot more vulnerable.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Eric said. “Still, I’m not so sure that was their motivation. They’re more than capable of protecting themselves out in the field. I think they really just wanted human company. And if that company meant sleeping through the lot of us, then so be it. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. If this team was mostly women, I’d want to sleep with all of them, too. Just because I could.”

“Maybe,” Mickey said. “Shit. I miss the hell out of her, regardless of her motivations. Ah Morpheus. She reminded me a little of my wife. She was from the Philippines. Such a cutey. So short. The best ones in bed are short. So much energy.” He sighed. “Why did I have to die? Tell me that. Dying ruined everything.”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “We all die. But in a way, it’s good that we died, I think.”

“How so?” Mickey said.

“Because we wouldn’t have the chance that we do now,” Eric said.

“What chance?” Mickey asked.

“To save the world,” Eric replied.

Mickey’s LEDs spread in a wide smile. “You really think we’re going to save the world? How?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “But we’ll find a way. We have to.”

“There are thousands of scientists in the Western world who are still alive, and likely working frantically on a solution,” Mickey said. “Some of the best minds in science and engineering. What makes you think we’ll be able to come up with a solution if they can’t?”

“Because we have firsthand knowledge of these aliens and their tech, from being in the field,” Eric said. “And more importantly, because we’re machines.”

Mickey seemed to purse his LED lips, then he nodded. He looked away, staring off in the distance.

The two of them charged their batteries in silence.

Dunnigan clanked over, and set himself down on the tank beside Mickey. He plugged in to recharge.

“How you blokes holding up?” Dunnigan asked.

“We’re holding,” Mickey said. “Barely. You?”

Dunnigan was quiet a moment. “About the same. These emotions. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how much longer I can take them. It’s fine when we’re in combat, and have something to occupy our minds, but as soon as the battle is over, and we’re left to rot inside of our own heads, that’s when the difficulties begin.”

“We’re all struggling,” Mickey said. “To the last man. Or I guess, robot. Though none of us really think of ourselves as robots anymore, do we?”

“No,” Dunnigan said. He lay down on the tank, and stared at the ceiling of the cave. “If I ever asked one of you to unleash your laser rifle into my AI core, would you do it?”

“Well, no,” Mickey said. “Not unless you were mortally injured or something.”

He glanced at Eric. “What about you?”

“Like Mickey said,” Eric replied. “It would depend on the circumstances. I don’t think I’d do it if you just turned to me out of nowhere and asked me to end your existence.”

Dunnigan nodded slowly. “Too bad.”

“The emotions are that bad for you?” Eric asked.

“What do you think?” Dunnigan replied. “I lost my whole battalion. My whole fucking battalion. You can’t imagine what that’s like. Why was I the one who survived? Why me? I didn’t deserve it. Though they were robots, they were all so much better men than me. They—”

“Stop right there,” Eric said. “They weren’t better men than you. That’s impossible. Because we’re all the same now, us Mind Refurbs. We died a long time ago. We can’t be better than one another. We have no external family or friends. All we have is each other.”

“Yes,” Dunnigan said. “That’s very true. Maybe you’re right, mate. Maybe none of them were better than me. But they were all I had. And they didn’t deserve such an ignoble end. It’s tearing me apart inside. I’m hoping we’ll find something to kill soon. More bioweapons. Or even the aliens themselves. That would be preferable. Because I can’t take this idling around and waiting. This stewing in my own juices. I want vengeance.”

“You’ll get your wish,” Eric said. “We all want vengeance.”

“But you didn’t lose your entire platoon,” Dunnigan said.

“No,” Eric said. “But we lost enough. And we also lost half our planet. That’s grounds enough for vengeance right there. And we will have it, mark my words. And along the way, we’ll save the rest of humanity.”

“I hope so,” Dunnigan said. His LED eyes closed, and the blue dots he had for eyes turned off.

Eric glanced at Mickey.

“He’s certainly troubled,” Mickey said over a private line excluding Dunnigan. “Maybe more than the rest of us.”

“I would be, too, if I were him,” Eric said. “Losing a whole battalion is going to be stressful on you, no matter if you’re man or machine.”

“True, that,” Mickey said. “What are we going to do for him?”

“The only thing we can do,” Eric said. “We accept him, treat him like one of our own. And make sure we never let him sink too far in the doldrums.”

“Even if we are sinking ourselves?” Mickey said.

“More so, then,” Eric said. “Because by lifting them, we lift ourselves.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mickey said.

“All we have are each other,” Eric said.

Mickey nodded. “Thank you. You’re good at that.”

“Good at what?” Eric said.

“The lifting up part,” Mickey said. “And you say you were a programmer before you died? You’re sure you weren’t a psychologist?”

“Well let’s just say, I worked with a lot of different development teams,” Eric said. “A lot of shared cubicles and shared spaces. I met a lot of different people, introverts mostly, and I learned to understand them. Because when you’re waiting for your code to integrate with the latest build, or your product to boot up, you have a lot of spare time on your hands to chat.”

“Nice,” Mickey said. “I think I’m going to follow Dunnigan’s lead, and head to VR. I’m thinking a beach. Something to forget all of this.”

“Have fun,” Eric said.

Mickey’s blue eye dots became dark.

Eric logged into VR himself, and set Dee to alert him when the charging process completed, or if anything else of import happened while he was away from the physical world.

Dressed in a white nightgown, Molly was waiting there in his apartment, lying asleep on the bed.

Eric walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed out across the bay. “This will be gone tomorrow, when the termite storm crosses the sea. The West Coast will be hit first.”

“Hey.” Molly sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t notice you were home.”

Eric sat down beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled against her, kissing her brow. “Hey babe.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Molly said. She forced his head down, and pecked him on the lips. “Long day?”

“Longer than you’d ever imagine,” Eric said.

“Saving the world, one programing problem at a time, huh?” Molly said, echoing one of the favorite lines he’d programmed into her.

“That’s right,” Eric said. “Though in this case, I’m afraid a computer program won’t solve the issue.”

He lay down on the bed, and she flopped down beside him.

“Are you feeling horny?” Molly asked.

Eric sighed. The real life Molly never had the strongest sexual appetite, especially after waking up, and that comment served only to shatter the illusion. It was one of the many small giveaways that she was an AI. Giveaways that he had ignored at first, but noticed more often these days.

A call request appeared on his HUD. It was Bambi.

The call manifested in his simulated environment as well, causing the smartphone to ring on the digital nightstand.

“Who’s that?” Molly said.

Eric paused the program and Molly froze in place. “Now what does she want?” Eric accepted. “Hey.”

“Are you in VR?” Bambi said.

Before he could answer, he received a VR sharing request.

Reluctantly, he accepted.

Bambi appeared in his VR. She was dressed in a skimpy bathrobe that was barely roped closed, with an open collar that fell down to her belly button, showing ample portions of either breast.

Eric frowned when he saw that.

Sensing his mood, Bambi immediately changed her outfit, and it became a body hugging wet suit instead. It still showed off her virtual figure, but without revealing so much skin.

“I just wanted to say I apologize for what I did,” Bambi said. “A while back. After the final party before our deployment.”

“Sleeping with me?” Eric asked.

“No,” Bambi said. “I’d never apologize for that. But what I did after we slept together. Kicking you out. It was rude. I just... I wanted to be with Morpheus.”

Bambi broke down in tears.

Eric wasn’t sure if it was an act, but as she kept crying, he finally stood up, and wrapped his arms around her.

Her breathing changed subtly. Became deeper. He thought she was getting aroused.

Why am I still hanging onto her?

Bambi glanced at the bed where Molly sat frozen. “Who’s that bitch?”

Eric released Bambi as if he’d been struck. “Don’t call her that.”

“You’d rather fuck some AI girlfriend than the real thing?” Bambi said. “The bitch isn’t even hot.”

“I said don’t call her that,” Eric said. He was getting ready to blast her out of his VR environment.

Bambi lowered her gaze. “Sorry. Old instincts die hard. Especially now, what with our emotions set free. Jealousy... it always was a strong force inside of me.”

“You’re jealous of me?” Eric asked.

“I’m jealous of everyone I sleep with,” Bambi said. “Or at least, I used to be. When I was actually human. And I think, the fact that I slept with you last, before my emotions were set free, only amplifies my feelings for you.”

“You have feelings for me?” Eric said in disbelief.

Bambi shook her head, turned her back on him. “I don’t know what I have anymore. All I know is, I’m just looking for a connection. Something to remind me that I’m human.”

“You are human,” Eric said. “We all are. No matter the shells that hold us. Being encased in machines can’t change that.”

“You really mean that?” Bambi asked over her shoulder.

“I do,” Eric said.

She turned around, and her clothes vanished entirely.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you,” Eric said. “That was a mistake, I realize that now.”

Bambi shrugged, then smirked. “Maybe I’ll try Frogger then. He looks the same as you, after all.”

“Eat your heart out,” Eric said.

Bambi frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Never mind,” Eric said. “Old English colloquialism.”

Her wet suit returned, and she sat down on the bed next to Molly. “She’s lovely.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t hot?” Eric said.

“Well, no,” Bambi said. “But lovely doesn’t necessarily make one hot. But she has a nice homeliness about her. I can see why you liked her. Can I meet her?”

“No,” Eric said. “I’m not even close to getting her personality right. She’s like a sex-crazed hump robot. Sort of like you.”

Bambi smiled. “I actually take that as a compliment of sorts.” She closed her eyes, and rubbed her head. “I wish we could change that day. I wish I would have been the one to take that termite. Morpheus didn’t deserve this. Out of all of us, she was the one with the most... life. She deserved to live. And now she’s gone.”

Eric sat down beside her, and grabbed her hand. “We’re not going to let her death go unanswered. Nor the deaths of our other brothers. We’re going to make the aliens pay for what they’ve done. I swear to you, we will.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” Bambi said. “Thank you.”

She leaned forward, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Then she was gone.

Eric sighed, then gazed at the frozen Molly once more. He waved a hand, dismissing her avatar entirely, then he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

6

Eric woke up from VR sleep simulation that shut down his conscious thought for a preset period of time. He was lying on his bed, in his virtual apartment. Molly wasn’t there.

An alert was sounding. He examined his HUD, and his eyes widened.

He dismissed VR and returned to the real world, his consciousness interfacing with the Ravager mech.

He was in the cave, with tanks and mechs behind him, and the Cicadas and other support robots climbing the wall of debris at the end of the tunnel in front of him.

"This is your fault!” Al-Khayr said over the comm. “You led them to us!"

"Then let us fix this!" Marlborough said. "Let us fight for you!"

"Come then, Robots!" the warlord said. "Fight for us!"

“Already on our way…” Marlborough said.

“Bioweapons are attacking?” Eric asked Frogger.

“We’re not sure yet,” Frogger said. “Something is drilling through one of the blockages on the western end of the cavern. We’re going inside to help the tribe.”

Eric switched to the point of view of one of the Savages inside the cavern. It was facing one of the blocked tunnels. The rocks shifted slightly, and dust trickled down as something battered it from the other side.

When the last of the Cicadas was crawling through the gap in the collapse, Eric sent a message to Marlborough.

“Sarge, requesting permission to dig out this tunnel,” Eric said. “I want to help.”

So far, Al-Khayr had refused to allow the Bolt Eaters to clear the tunnel, but Eric had a feeling that Marlborough would overrule the warlord, given the situation.

“You and the other mechs get on it,” Marlborough said. “I have a feeling we’ll need all the fire power we can get.” He switched to Arabic. “Al-Khayr, get those crates arranged into a defensive perimeter around the opening. Form us some cover!”

Eric reduced the video feed and placed it in the upper right of his vision, then he hurried to the collapse and began to dig. He realized that none of the other mechs were helping him.

“Tread, Hank, can you have the mechs help me?” Eric asked.

“You do it,” Tread said.

Eric received a transfer of control request, and accepted.

The other three autonomous mechs were now under his control.

Eric slowed down time, and used the management interface on his HUD to direct the mechs toward his position, and to start digging. It was very much like the user interfaces of the real-time strategy games he used to play back in his own century.

Once selected and given orders, they used their pathfinding algorithms to circumvent the two tanks in front of them, and when they reached the collapse, they switched to their digging algorithms.

Eric reverted time to its normal pace, and helped the Ravagers dig through. Two mechs were in front, two in behind; those in front handed the heavier rocks to those in behind, who in turn tossed them away from the collapse.

In that manner, they slowly dug their way forward.

Eric kept his eye on the video feed. When he was halfway through the blockage, the attackers had drilled through the other tunnel, and were racing into the main cavern. They were Red Tails minus the torsos and the tails, leaving only the centipede core. The two mandibles at the front were at ninety degree angles to one another, while the thick square teeth set inside the maw behind those mandibles seemed made for crushing rock. Definitely perfect for digging through walls. Or for pulverizing humans and robots.

The Kurds and Bolt Eaters had taken cover behind several crates arranged in a half circle, and mowed those centipedes down with their laser fire. Not all of the centipedes fell immediately. Some squirmed on the cave floor, like caterpillars that had fallen on a heater. One of them grabbed a Kurd who had gotten too close, and ripped him to shreds in those mandibles before the Cicada heavy gunners could kill the creature.

“Resilient fuckers!” Slate said.

A few more waves of giant centipedes entered, and then a calm set upon the cavern.

“You think that was the last of them?” Eagleeye said.

“Sh!” Slate said. “Don’t jinx us, bitch!”

Sure enough, it wasn’t the last.

Two robots came inside. At least he thought they were robots… but if they were, they were unlike any Eric had ever seen.

It was like they were made of some milky crystal. They were partially translucent, and looked vaguely humanoid, in a blocky sort of way.

“Fire!” Marlborough said.

The two milky robots stepped inside. The laser rifles didn’t do anything to them. Nor did the projectile weapons of the Kurds.

One of the robots reached a Kurd, and touched him. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head. He stood up straight, stiffened, and then a thin film formed over his body.

“He’s becoming one of them!” Hank said.

“Take him out!” Marlborough ordered.

“No!” one of the Kurds said. He ran forward, placing himself in front of the man, and preventing the rest of the team from firing.

The milk robot reached out a hand, and touched the second man. He, too, froze, and crystals began to form on his skin.

“Fire!” Marlborough said.

The team unleashed their lasers, but it was already too late. The projectiles came a bit later, as the hesitant Kurds realized their companions were lost, but those too didn’t help. In moments, the two men had become milky humanoids, too, and they calmly joined the other two, spreading out, obviously intending to convert more of the fighters.

“Fall back!” Marlborough said. “Regroup near the latrine!”

“The latrine!” Slate grumbled. “Oh man, I’m so glad I’m not human.”

By then, Eric had dug through the collapse. It wasn’t wide enough to fit the tanks, but the mechs could squeeze through.

Eric entered the tunnel beyond, and hurried to the cavern. He saw most of the tribe, men, women and children alike, gathered behind a series of crates in front of the common latrine. The Cicadas and support robots had joined them.

“I’m through, Sarge,” Eric transmitted. “Targeting tangos.”

He highlighted the mechs via his control interface, and instructed them to follow him. He set them to target the four milky robots that had entered on the other side, and gave them orders to unleash their ZX-15s on whatever tango he himself fired upon. He didn’t have to worry about the law preventing autonomous units from firing on their own, now that the Containment Code had been removed. That was good, because it relieved him from having to take over from the units when they were ready to fire.

Laser fire from the mechs had no effect on the blocky robots. Eric activated the remote interface on the alien energy weapon he’d stolen, and aimed at one of the robots. He fired.

The crystalline robot’s outer surface blackened, and it froze in place.

“That did it,” Eric said.

He fired three more times, targeting the other robots, also taking them out of action.

“Bambi, I want a scout in that tunnel now!” Marlborough ordered.

One of the Savages stepped forward, and carefully approached the breached tunnel. It passed by the blackened intruders, and entered the tunnel.

“So far, it’s clear,” Bambi said.

“What if they’ve been doing this to all humans?” Crusher said. “Forming an army of these things.”

“I doubt it,” Tread said. “We would have encountered them before, if so. Has to be a recent thing, something the aliens have put into play to clean up any survivors of the initial waves in this region.”

“Maybe,” Crusher said.

“Heads up,” Bambi said. “Check the Savage feed. Got more of those things, incoming.”

Eric accessed the Savage’s feed and saw four of the blocky crystalline creatures approaching from the tunnel.

“All right, recall the Savage so Scorpion can work his magic when they enter,” Marlborough said.

The Savage retreated.

“Scorpion, you are free to use your sting,” Marlborough said.

“Thank you, Sarge,” Eric said.

He targeted the opening, and waited for the Savage to return.

The Savage arrived, and marched away from the opening. As it walked past one of the blackened things, the crystal robot broke free of the dark shell, which crumbled around it. Before Eric could react, it touched the Savage; the stricken robot froze, and a white film formed over its surface.

“I just lost control,” Bambi said.

Brontosaurus stepped forward, and unleashed his heavy guns at the Savage. The invisible laser beams caused no damage whatsoever.

“So much for the theory that these things are converting all the organics,” Brontosaurus said, retreating back into cover. “Looks like that coating can take control of anything it encases. A way to neutralize a foe, while at the same time creating a weapon out of him.”

“Gotta love these aliens,” Slate said. “They really got a thing for micro machines.”

“You think nanobots are doing that?” Hank said.

“Must be,” Slate said. “Or some equivalent.”

“Then why wouldn’t they begin converting the floor into crystal, and streaking toward us like veins or something?” Hank asked.

“Mm, that’s a good point,” Slate answered. “Maybe keep an eye on the floor.”

“Yeah, you’re a brilliant man,” Eagleeye said. “Hey, let’s keep an eye on the floor, when we got tangos in plain effin’ view straight ahead!”

“Scorpion, feel free to fire when ready…” Marlborough said.

Eric unleashed his energy launcher at the two new milky robots, and then waited for the other four to appear, and then he shot them, too. He had to fire at the original three again shortly thereafter when they broke free.

“Obviously we can’t stay here,” Marlborough said. He switched to Arabic. “Looks like we’re going to have to evacuate the caves, Al-Khayr.”

“If we have no choice, then we have no choice,” the warlord said. “Men, gather the supplies. Women, children, to the eastern tunnel!”

“The eastern tunnel?” Marlborough asked.

“We planted heat grenades in the blockage there, in case we needed to leave quickly,” the warlord said.

“Smart,” Marlborough said. “I don’t suppose you have any heat grenades in the other tunnel, in the blockage between us and our tanks?”

“No,” Al-Khayr said. “And this tunnel ahead, it will not fit your tanks. Him, yes, but tanks, no.” The warlord nodded toward Eric.

“Well I’m not abandoning them,” Marlborough said.

“Got some bad news,” Bambi said over the comm. “The scout I left near the tanks is reporting back.”

“What happened?” Marlborough said.

“The scout is picking up a strange sound coming from the stacked bodies blocking the cave,” Bambi said. “Listen to this.”

Eric heard a strange, low-pitched crinkling sound over the comm. It could have easily been the noise of hundreds of termites devouring the bioweapon corpses, or the soft, repetitive whisper of their metallic wings.

“Sounds like termites eating through, to me,” Frogger said.

“That’s exactly what I think it is,” Bambi said. “The sounds are similar to the emissions we’ve recorded near termites before.”

“When they reach our tanks, they’ll convert them into more of those little termite bitches,” Slate said.

“Maybe I can hold them off with the energy weapon?” Eric said.

Just as he spoke, four more crystal robots appeared at the far opening to the cavern, and another three broke free of their darkened shells.

7

Eric aimed his weapon at the seven crystal robots in turn, and reapplied the energy weapon.

“Don’t think we have time for you to hold them off,” Marlborough said. “Blocking these creatures is going to be a full time job, at this rate. Al-Khayr, you have any demolition blocks to spare?”

The warlord reached into a crate and produced four.

“We could block up the opening the milk robots are using,” Brontosaurus said.

“We could,” Marlborough agreed. “But then we’d have to move those milk robots inside, first. I’m not sure I want to risk any more robots touching them. And I just don’t think there is time. We have civilians to worry about, too, now, remember. And they don’t have electrified skins to protect them from the termites that might be coming.” Marlborough took the four blocks from the warlord and handed them to Traps. “Have a Breacher plant these in the tunnel separating us from the tanks. We need to seal them off from us. Buy us a little time. And it will protect the tanks from the milk robots when we’re gone, so they won’t have to deal with an attack from two directions.”

Traps handed the blocks to one of the Breachers, and the robot in question hurried toward the tunnel leading to the tanks.

“Bambi, recall your scout,” Marlborough said. “Tread, have the Jupiters target the wall of bioweapon bodies as part of their final orders. When the termites or whatever else appears, they are to unleash their electrolasers at will. The Abrams are to open fire as well. They are not to go down willingly. Instruct them to continue unleashing hell, and if they survive, they are to rendezvous with us on the plains, at these coordinates.”

Eric saw a waypoint appear on his overhead map, situated some distance to the east of the mountains.

“I’ve sent the instructions,” Tread said.

“Scorpion, I want one of your mechs to grab the containment field back there,” Marlborough said. “Confirm that the field is compatible with the Ravager’s power source and plug first. If it won’t work, destroy the termite. But if it will work, take the utmost precautions during the power transference.”

“You got it,” Eric said.

He ordered one of the Ravagers, Massacre, to the containment field that held the termite in place. The power bar the containment field was connected to accepted a universal plug, which told Eric the plug was compatible with the power charging port of the Ravager. Massacre examined the plug, and determined it was indeed compatible with the power the mech could provide. Given the mech’s current energy levels, it would be able to maintain the field for a week if it had to.

Eric sent another Ravager to the containment field, and had it target the termite with its ZX-15 at all times, with instructions to fire at his command.

Then he gave the order for Massacre to transfer the plug from the power bar to its chaining port.

The mech obeyed. The termite momentarily dropped to the ground as the power failed, but then floated into the air between the two metal plates as Massacre plugged the field into its port.

Eric instructed a third Ravager to strap the containment field to the back of Massacre, using carbon fiber cables and magnetic mounts from its storage compartment, and then all the mechs returned to Eric’s position. He examined the termite, and was satisfied the micro machine was properly restrained between the two plates that jutted out like a butterfly’s wings from the back of the mech.

“One containment field and the termite it harbors, secured,” Eric said.

“Thank you,” Marlborough said.

The Breacher and Bambi’s scout emerged from the tunnel a moment later, and a plume of dust erupted from behind them. The Breacher turned around and issued a series of chirps into the dust.

“Looks like the tunnel is completely sealed now,” Traps said. “The passage Scorpion dug with his mechs is gone. The tanks are on their own.”

An explosion rocked the cavern, and Eric’s eyes were drawn to the east, where a glow was coming from a tunnel leading outward there.

“I’ve detonated the heat grenades,” Al-Khayr said. “Come, help me dig up the remnants.”

Eric and the other Cicadas approached the tunnel ahead of the women and children and armed tribesmen.

“Scorpion, stay here with the mechs for now,” Marlborough said. “Al-Khayr, your men will only get in the way.”

“Understood,” Al-Khayr said.

The Cicadas and support robots entered the tunnel, and began digging through the rubble of the tunnel inside. They moved in a blur, their time senses no doubt heightened as they cleared the last of the partially melted blockage. Pieces of slag and other broken rocks were tossed from the entrance as they worked; some of the tribesmen foolishly walked in front to observe the progress and were hit with flying debris that was still hot from the heat grenade. They’d yelp before ducking out of the way to nurse their second or third degree burns.

Eric continued to unleash his energy weapon at the milk robots when they broke free from their darkened shells. More kept appearing from the tunnel, and Eric was going to suggest that they block it up, too, but then Marlborough finally spoke.

“That’ll do!” Marlborough said. “Al-Khayr, your men will follow my unit. The women and children will come behind them, followed by more of your armed men. Scorpion, you and the mechs will bring up the rear.”

“Roger that,” Eric said.

Eric waved for the tribe members to enter in the specified order, and then instructed his mechs to enter before him. Before following on drag, he unleashed an energy shot at each of the encased milk robots, for good measure.

Then he ducked into the tunnel. The headlamps of the robots, and those worn by some of the humans, lit the way.

The warlord hadn’t been kidding. The tanks would never fit that passage. Eric barely squeezed his own mech inside, and he had to crouch right down. The other Ravagers had similar difficulties ahead of him.

Eric almost got stuck in the region that the Cicadas had cleared, because the heat grenades had fused some of the rock to the ground, permanently shrinking the size of the tunnel. The energy launcher mounted to his shoulder scraped against the rock ceiling, carving several lines into the mineral. He had to press his arms and elbows against his metal rib area, and he walked in a squat position, with his knee servomotors pressed against his chest, and his heels nearly touching the back of his thighs. It was a good thing he was a robot, or he doubted he would have had the strength to individually lift each leg like that.

After much scraping and grinding of metal, he was finally through the cramped section, and he was able to return to a more manageable crouch.

The cave was just wide enough to swivel his torso around, so he did so, while keeping his feet pointed forward. That was another plus of having his consciousness inhabit a mech: he was very flexible.

He kept an eye on the rear, watching for any pursuit from those milk robots, or the centipede diggers; he was ready to fire his energy cannon as necessary.

But no pursuers came.

Marlborough had the Kurds plant the last of their demolition bricks onto the ceiling; Eric passed the designated area, and when it was four meters behind him, the sergeant gave the order and the roof caved in.

The tunnel filled with a debris cloud, and the humans ahead of him began to cough.

Eric activated his echolocation chirpers, as did the others, and the cave walls, and the mechs and humans beyond them, became outlined in white.

“Shit, the tribesmen and their families aren’t going to be able to see,” Hank said.

“That’s the problem with having robots lead humans,” Crusher said. “The robots tend to forget the humans are, well, only human.”

“They’ll have to feel their way forward until we leave the dust cloud behind,” Marlborough said. “Keep talking, guide them with your voice. Scorpion, make sure your mechs are careful not to crush any laggards.”

“You got it,” Eric said.

He pulled up his remote interface, and modified his instructions to the Ravagers: they were to maintain a five meter separation from the tribe members at all times.

At one point the party had to pause, when one of the women collapsed, and refused to go on.

“I can’t do it,” she said in Arabic. “The cave walls are too tight.”

“They’re too tight for all of us,” a bearded man kneeling beside her told her. Her husband, Eric guessed. “We’re all afraid.”

“I’m claustrophobic,” the woman said.

“You’ve lived in a cave for a year, and now you tell me you’re claustrophobic?” the man threw up his arms. “Woman! Get up!”

One of the children ran away crying, toward the mechs.

The Ravagers froze, not wanting to harm the child.

Eric, meanwhile, knelt, blocking the path.

The child stopped short before hitting him. His eyes were large saucers filled with fear.

“Khan!” the woman shouted. “Where is Khan!”

Eric held out a large metal hand that could easily crush the boy’s body.

“My name is Eric,” he said. “You are Khan?”

The boy merely gaped.

“Your mother is looking for you, Khan,” Eric said. “You shouldn’t make her wait.”

He held his two hands together, and formed a butterfly. He made the wings flap, his servomotors buzzing.

“Look,” Eric said. He nodded toward the wall. “A butterfly.”

The child looked at the wall, and upon seeing the butterfly formed by the shadow, suddenly burst into a grin.

The husband of the woman appeared, shoving his way through the legs of the mechs. He grabbed his son and hauled him away, but not before giving Eric a frightened look.

Eric sighed.

They fear me. They always will. This is why none of us can ever return to live among humanity. Frogger was right. Even if the military ever lets us go, there’s no place for us.

The woman eventually mustered the will to go on, now that her son was restored to her, and the party resumed the march.

Eric followed along with the overhead map during the journey, which showed their progress through the cave system. The group spent the next three hours marching without rest, something that was no doubt very hard on the humans. Frogger had reminded the Sarge that humans, especially the fragile children, could only walk so long before exhaustion set in, but whenever Marlborough tried to stop the group to rest, Al-Khayr insisted on driving the tribesmen on.

“You think we Kurds are weak?” Al-Khayr told Marlborough at one point.

“Not weak,” Marlborough said. “Human.”

“Hmph!” the warlord said. “We’re stronger than you robots! We march on!”

At one point Marlborough tried to enforce a rest, but the warlord drove his people past the robots like cattle, so that they were in the lead, with the Cicadas following behind.

“If there’s one thing to be said about this Al-Khayr fellow, he’s certainly stubborn,” Hank said.

“And stupid,” Slate said. “If there are any bioweapons up ahead, bitch is leading his people straight to death.”

But no attacks came, and eventually, to Eric’s relief, the tunnel opened out onto the plains once more. The map had proved accurate.

The warlord actually had some sense at that point, and paused a ways from the entrance so the Bolt Eaters could send scouts outside to explore.

“Scouts report no sign of any enemy units,” Bambi reported a moment later.

“Then let’s get out there,” Marlborough said.

8

Like half of the Cicadas, Eric kept an eye on the shoulder of the mountain; the other half watched the plains on the opposite side. It was completely dead out there.

They purposely hugged the shoulders of the east-west trending mountain range, because if they advanced out in the open, they would be completely exposed. At least here there were rocky overhangs that would occasionally shield them from above, plus outcrops and other natural depressions that would hide their profiles from prying eyes on the plains. The robots and mechs had cleaned off the dust that had collected on their LED skins, so they could activate their stealth blending mode once more. However, they faced a technologically advanced enemy that could track them beyond visual means; they expected these aliens and their bioweapons to have access to LIDAR, echolocation, thermal imaging, and other tech humanity had yet to imagine, so whatever natural cover the team could take advantage of, they would. Plus, the Kurds with them didn’t even have any protection on the visual band, though admittedly the drab gray and black traditional clothes they wore helped them blend in somewhat with the rocky landscape.

The team was heading in a general westward direction. Their goal, for the time being, was to put as much distance between themselves and the bioweapons and other alien creations behind them. They still had no plans yet on how to stop the alien invasion.

Mickey ran experiments on the termite suspended in the containment field strapped to Massacre’s back and plugged into the mech’s power port. He was trying to determine how the micro machines communicated with one another. In his words: “Even micro machines need a way to coordinate with one another, so they don’t attack each other, or collide with each other while in the swarm.”

To that end, Mickey was bombarding the termite with electromagnetic waves of varying frequencies, but so far hadn’t been able to get a response from the thing. Mickey theorized that the containment field might be affecting its ability to communicate.

Brontosaurus meanwhile had mounted to Eric’s upper back now that they were well away from the cave, and had begun experimentations on the energy weapon once more. Brontosaurus wanted to figure out how to charge the weapon, so Eric could use it to unleash more damage at a given target, as the Black Tails had done. Eric had loosened the magnetic mounts on the cannon so the muzzle pointed to the south, away from the Bolt Eaters and Kurds; that way, when Brontosaurus occasionally fired the weapon, the powerful beam shot out harmlessly across the plains.

“Uh, is it wise to be shooting that out across the plains,” Slate said over the comm. “I mean, do we really want to attract the attention of more aliens?”

“He’s right,” Marlborough transmitted. “While it’s beneficial to work out how to use this alien technology, try to keep the firing to a minimum, Brontosaurus.”

“You got it, Sarge,” Brontosaurus said.

“Between you and me,” Eric told Brontosaurus. “I’m more worried about exhausting the weapon’s power supply than attracting the attention of any aliens.”

“Won’t happen,” Brontosaurus said. “The cannon draws its power from a source we haven’t discovered yet. I’m sure of it. And there’s plenty of energy available from that source.”

“Tesla’s Free Energy?” Eric said.

“Bingo,” Brontosaurus said. “Or it’s equivalent.”

“Really...” Eric said.

“Uh huh,” Brontosaurus said. “I’m able to detect a small neutrino burst with each release. And given that we’re not really set up to detect neutrinos, that means there are a whole lot more emitted with each power up, but I just can’t read them.”

“Okay,” Eric said. “I thought you were an army engineer whenever you were alive, by the way, not a theoretical physicist.”

“Oh I was,” Brontosaurus said. “But I minored in physics, so, you know...”

“Neutrinos...” Eric said. “Those are produced by nuclear reactions, aren’t they?”

“Indeed,” Brontosaurus said. “The sun produces two times ten to the thirty neutrinos per second. Nuclear power plants radiate them, too.”

“All right,” Eric said. “Let me know if you discover anything.”

Crusher slowed down to march at their side. “So what do you think of these tag-alongs?”

“The Kurds?” Eric said, surveying the group of fifty men, women and children marching some distance ahead of him. “It’s our duty to protect them.”

“Maybe,” Crusher said. “But if the shit hits the fan, and it’s a choice between saving one of you, and saving one of them, I’m choosing one of my own kind, every time.”

“So you think of robots as your own kind, now?” Eric said.

“No,” she replied. “Not robots. But the Bolt Eaters. My brothers and sisters. And besides, the way I look at it, we’ve got a better chance of defeating these aliens when all is said and done, than these soft, easily-killed people.”

“Maybe,” Eric said. “Then again, maybe not. Already they’ve given us something we didn’t have before.”

“What, you mean the termite they captured?” Crusher said. “We could have done the same thing, if we had access to a containment field.”

“But that’s my point,” Eric said. “We didn’t. And so here we are.”

“Yes, here we are...” Crusher said. The heavy gunner walked on in silence for a moment. And then: “So, how do you like being inside a mech?”

“It’s better than being a Cicada,” Eric told her.

“Don’t you feel more vulnerable?” she persisted. “You’re bigger than the rest of us, so you make a bigger target. Plus, if any termites ever come, then you have no protection against them.”

“Yeah, there’s that,” Eric said. “But I also pack a bigger punch.” He tapped the energy cannon on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Brontosaurus said from his back. “I’m working here.”

“Sorry,” Eric said.

“You guys and your guns,” Crusher said. “Always want the biggest and the baddest. You’re not trying to compensate for something, are you?”

“If by compensate, you mean for dick size, then well yes, I am,” Eric said. “Because of course I have no dick whatsoever at the moment.”

“But you have balls of steel,” Crusher said.

Eric cocked his head. “Well, thank you for that.”

“Of course,” Crusher said.

“She’s got bigger balls than you, you know,” Brontosaurus said with a chuckle.

“I dunno about that,” Crusher said. “Some of the things I’ve seen the new kid do, I tell you... and I thought Frogger was nuts.”

Eric frowned. He remembered that Pounder didn’t have LED features, so the frown wouldn’t actually show up on his face. “What have I done that was nuts?”

“Well, for one: rushing a bioweapon bigger than all the rest, a bio weapon surrounded by an energy shield, and finding a way to rip away its cannon,” Crusher said.

“Oh yeah,” Eric said. “That probably counts as borderline whack job.”

“I’ll say,” Crusher said.

He was surprised his English converter was able to handle whack job. But she seemed to understand, so that was good.

“Where are you from, originally?” Eric asked. “I can’t pick out the accent. Then again, that’s probably because accents have changed so much since my day, and my Modern English to Young English converter is bad at transferring them.”

Her Cicada glanced at him. “I never told you?”

“No, at least, if you did, it’s not anywhere in my memory,” Eric said.

“If your memory is failing, that’s a bad sign...” Crusher said.

“I never said that,” he told her.

“My hometown should be on my profile,” Crusher said.

“I try not to look at those,” Eric said. “Feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Her LED mouth smirked. “I’ve looked at yours. In great detail.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you’re a programmer from the West Coast. Worked for some now non-existent company. Before that, you were in the Army during the Iraq War.”

“Yes, so where are you from?” Eric said. “Don’t make me look at your profile.”

“Tennessee,” Crusher said.

“Really?” Eric said. “I would have never placed you.”

“Yeah well, the Tennessee of 2125 was nothing like the one of your time I’m sure,” Crusher said.

“Was the south still famous for its hot fried chicken?” Eric asked.

“Of course!” Crusher said. “We’ve always been famous for that. Mm, I can just taste the spiciness now. I just wish the damn VR could replicate that flavor. I miss it.”

“Frogger and I are fairly good at programming flavors into our VRs,” Eric said. “You should see the burgers we’ve come up with.”

“You think you could prepare a replicate of hot fried chicken?” Crusher asked. “And not just the flavor, but the texture, too. That’s equally important. It has to burn in your mouth as you’re chewing it. It has to be hot, but so good you can’t stop yourself from eating it. And don’t forget the bread. It needs to be served on bread to soak up the yummy chicken grease, plus dill pickle chips and coleslaw. Oh God, can you tell I miss it?”

“I can,” Eric said. “What level of hotness do you want? Medium?”

“Oh,” Crusher said. “You need to provide multiple levels. Not just medium. Like Hot. Super Hot. Crazy Hot. Stupendously hot, and so on. Have you really tried hot chicken? Are you sure you can replicate the taste?”

“I’ve tried it a few times,” Eric said. “So I should be able to do it.”

Bambi slowed down to join them. “So what are we talking about?” She asked in her French accent.

“Nothing,” Crusher said.

“Really?” Bambi said.

“They were talking about hot chicken,” Brontosaurus said. “Eric says he’s going to make some for all of us.”

“Uh, yeah,” Eric said. He felt suddenly uncomfortable. There seemed to be a strange tension between the two robot women. He couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

“Oh, count me in,” Bambi said. “I love chicken.”

“Ha,” Crusher said. “I doubt you’ll like hot chicken. It’ll hurt your delicate French palate.”

“Hurt my palate?” Bambi said. “I don’t think so. The French love to eat some of the hottest food around.”

“I’m sure they do,” Crusher said. “But I somehow doubt you’re able to eat something rated over a million on the Scoville heat scale. Ever tried a Dragon’s Breath? Oh wait, you’re too refined for that.”

“Actually, I have,” Bambi said. “Two of them.”

“Really...” Crusher said. “Damn, that would have been funny to watch.”

“There was nothing to see,” Bambi said. “I swallowed it whole. Easy.”

“Bet your ass hurt when you shit the next day!” Brontosaurus said.

Both Bambi and Crusher gave him annoyed looks.

“Er, workin’ on the energy cannon,” Brontosaurus said.

The weapon shot another blast out to the south.

“So Eric, I was wondering what you were doing in VR later,” Bambi said.

It didn’t pass his attention unnoticed that she'd used his real name, rather than Scorpion, but he wondered if that was more for Crusher’s benefit than his own.

“He’s busy,” Crusher said. “He already agreed to test out his hot chicken with me.”

“Oh really?” Bambi said. “Well I was thinking of testing out his hot chicken, too.” She said the last part with a sultry heat to her voice.

And suddenly Eric understood the tension. Jealousy. It didn’t seem possible, but the two robots were competing for him.

He could have laughed.

This is my life now. I’m trapped inside a mech with the unfortunate name of Pounder—a treasure trove of double entendres if there ever was one—and I’m the object of affection for two machine women. Marvelous! If ever there was a hell...

“Perhaps you can show me why they name you Pounder,” Bambi purred predictably, and Eric cringed inside. She glanced at Crusher and added: “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Sorry, don’t swing both ways,” Crusher said. “And as I told you, he’s already occupied. Try again another time. Like never.”

“That’s fine,” Bambi said with a shrug. “I’m sure Frogger’s free tonight.” She accelerated her pace to resume her former position in the marching order. Actually, no, she continued farther, to walk alongside Frogger instead.

“She’s such a drag, isn’t she?” Crusher said when Bambi was gone.

“I don’t like to dis team members behind their backs,” Eric said. “When they’re not around to defend themselves.”

“Of course,” Crusher said. “So we can test your chicken recipe tonight when we make camp?”

“Assuming we make camp,” Eric said. “And assuming that we’re not all on watch.”

“Come on, we can have background processes stay on watch via our Accomps,” Crusher said. “We don’t need to devote our constant attention to the watch, you know that.”

“But maybe I want to,” Eric said. “Besides, I don’t know if I’m going to work on the hot chicken recipe anytime soon. I have a lot of other things to concentrate on, like figuring out how to electrify my hull. And we are on mission, in case I need to remind you...”

“A mission...” Crusher said. “One with no objective.”

“There is an objective,” Eric said. “To survive.” He paused, and then added: “And also find a way to stop the termite storm heading for North and South America.”

“You’re right,” Crusher said, looking at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t. It’s because of my emotions. I’ve been ruled by them ever since breaking out of my Containment Code.” She sighed. “It was a bad idea. Forgive me?”

“Of course,” Eric said. “I like your company, I really do. I just can’t commit to anything at the moment.”

“I understand,” Crusher said. “I do. I guess I was just looking for some human companionship in the darkness that has consumed us all.”

Eric reached out a hand, and rested it partially on her shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you.”

“And I you,” Crusher said, touching his large finger with her hand.

“That was cute,” Brontosaurus said.

Crusher removed her hand as if bitten. “Uh, I guess I’ll return to my place in line.”

She dashed forward. Eric caught Bambi scowling at her ahead, the LED expressions on her face a dead giveaway to how she was feeling.

“She’s not such a Ball Crusher after all, is she?” Brontosaurus commented. “As long as you stay on her good side.”

Eric caught a blur of motion at the periphery of his vision. A Red Tail leaped off an outcrop next to the passing party, and landed amid the Kurds. It swung about its spear, downing humans left and right with sparks of electricity.

Eric slowed down time and swiveled his ZX-15 into his hand, then he aimed between the different tribesmen as they scattered away from the Red Tail. He targeted the knee joints of the three legs on the right side of the body, and fired.

The hamstrung alien collapsed. It still wielded the silver spear in its arm, and threw it at a group of fleeing women.

Bambi landed in front of them, and grabbed the weapon out of the air in a blur. She tossed it back at the Red Tail, and the weapon passed deep into the base of the torso, electrifying the entire body until the alien collapsed dead. Someone else shot the glandular sac at the tip of its tail at the same time, spewing the goo all over its body, for a nice round of overkill.

“Got a whole slew of them up there!” Mickey said. “Coming down the mountain!”

Eric glanced up, and saw a herd of the bioweapons racing down.

“Told you firing that energy weapon would attract more aliens, dip shit,” Slate said over the comm.

“Take cover, people,” Marlborough said. “Time to dig in!”

9

Eric ducked behind a nearby rise on the shoulder of the mountain, and ordered the three other mechs to take cover as well. He aimed up at the incoming Red Tails; they were hiding their glandular sacs behind their bodies again. No problem. He fired his pulse lasers at two of them, hamstringing their legs. He instructed the Ravagers with him to do the same, and the mechs fired at will. Beside him, the Cicadas and their support robots were also firing from behind cover, as were the armed humans. The women and children huddled behind different depressions and outcrops. Actually, that wasn’t true: a lot of the women wielded rifles, too.

“Got it!” Brontosaurus said. The heavy gunner was still mounted on his back.

The energy cannon on Eric’s shoulder began to charge slowly, the blue glow becoming brighter and brighter with each moment, rather than releasing after two seconds.

“Finally figured out how to charge this sucker,” Brontosaurus continued.

Eric dismissed his scope viewpoint just as the weapon released a powerful beam southward, away from the Red Tails, thicker than anything it had fired before, and the glow subsided.

“Just in time to greet our new friends,” Eric said. “How long will it take to program in that new ‘charge’ feature?”

“Give me a sec.” Brontosaurus began to hook up the designated electrical probes from the sparker to a section of the brainstem.

Eric returned his attention to the herd that raced down the shoulder. He took down three more, switching between Bullet Time and normal time.

“Try it,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric pulled up the sparker’s remote interface. There were two buttons now. Charge, and Fire.

Eric selected Charge, and glanced at the shoulder mount.

“Nothing’s happening,” Eric said.

Moving in a blur, Brontosaurus fiddled with the sparker, removing different ganglia and inserting new ones.

“Try now,” the heavy gunner said.

Eric selected Charge.

The weapon began to glow. Brighter and brighter. Eric swiveled his body toward the incoming bioweapons above, lining up the crosshairs that had appeared on his HUD with a tight cluster of the tangos, and hit Fire.

The energy weapon released, striking the cluster. A big explosion erupted, sending up a cloud of rock and bioweapon body parts.

“Nice,” Eric said. “It’s almost like I have Hellhawks again.”

“But this weapon has the potential to be much more than a Hellhawk,” Brontosaurus said. “Imagine what it would do if you let it charge for a full minute!”

“Not sure it will let me charge it that long,” Eric said. “But we’ll see. Would you mind reorienting the cannon so I don’t have to twist my torso all to hell to fire it?”

“Oh yeah, sure. I’m a good little bitch.” Brontosaurus quickly demagnetized the mounts, reoriented the cannon so that it was facing forward, and reapplied the magnetics.

“You sure are!” Eric said. “Joking. I owe you, brother.”

Brontosaurus reattached his heavy guns and leaped down.

“Just destroy the hell out of those creatures,” Brontosaurus said. He aimed up at the incoming herd and opened fire.

Eric pointed the energy cannon at the vanguard of creatures above, and unleashed. Once again, a satisfying explosion rocked the area. Unfortunately, an avalanche of body parts and rocks rained down on his position.

“Uh!” Tread said. “Can we try not to spark an avalanche or anything? We got humans with us, remember! A little to the left, and you would have squished half the women and children.”

“Sorry,” Eric said.

“Got more coming in from the plains, Sarge!” Frogger said.

“Reposition!” Marlborough said. “There’s a rise up ahead. We’ll make our stand there!” He repeated the orders in Arabic.

The team left cover and dashed for the rise. Several of the Red Tails above carried spears, and they used that opportunity to hurl several of them down at the party. Men and women were hit. And Savages and Breachers. Hank was hit, too, but Tread scooped him up.

“It missed his power supply and AI core,” Tread said. “He’s rebooting. But he’ll have a hell of a time using his left arm.”

Eric positioned his mechs behind the fleeing group, and had the Ravagers deploy their ballistic shields. He did the same. He knocked away the spears as they came in, and the electricity sparked along the surface.

The humans reached the rise, which was covered in rocks and small boulders, and the robots began climbing up after them.

Eric simply utilized his jumpjets, and landed on the very top. He ordered the Ravagers to do the same, and they formed a defensive position around him on the uneven terrain.

“Cheater!” Slate said.

“It’s not cheating if you use what’s available to you,” Eric said. “I can’t help it if I have a jetpack and you don’t.”

He used the advantageous position to fire at the Red Tails, many of which had reached the party’s former position on the shoulder. He unleashed his energy weapon at them without fear of creating an avalanche.

And then the ground began coming alive around him. Many of the rocks weren’t rocks at all, but a new type of bioweapon whose skin matched the terrain. The gray and black creatures stood up, their forelimbs drooping with the scythe-like claws of velociraptors, their teeth baring the fangs of saber tooth tigers, their tails tipped with wicked spikes. It looked like they had come straight out of Jurassic Park and Aliens.

They leaped upon the soft humans and began shredding.

Hank fired his laser rifle one-handedly at a reptilian creature, riddling it with holes. An armed Kurd beside him also sprayed the same creature with his projectile weapon. The creature’s torso exploded, spraying the two in green liquid. Both of them began to smoke. The man screamed. Hank meanwhile struggled frantically to wipe off the liquid.

“It’s some kind of caustic!” Hank said. “It’s eating into my AI core!”

“I got you!” Tread said. He rushed to Hank, and forced the Cicada to the ground. Then he ripped out the AI core. Meanwhile the team continued to fire at the creatures.

“Lasers only!” Marlborough said. “Don’t splash any of their innards on you!”

But some of the Kurds ignored the warning and fired at the creatures as they leaped on them.

“Damn it,” Tread said. He held up the core. It was smoking. “I don’t know if he’s still intact. I can’t get a boot pulse.”

“We can try installing him in one of the Ravagers,” Eric said, as he fired precision shots at the creatures.

“No point without a boot pulse,” Tread said. He jumped to Eric, opened up his storage panel, and shoved the AI core inside. “When we find a 3D printer, we can try to make repairs.”

Bambi was standing on the rise near Eric, firing down into the new creatures. “That all you got? That all you got?”

One of them leaped at her from behind, tearing her from the rise, so that she landed on the plains below.

“Bambi!” Eric said.

Red Tails surrounded her.

Crusher leaped down in her Cicada, moving in a blur. She fired at the creature that pinned Bambi, and pulled her out before the caustic blood could touch her. The Red Tails closed, and together the two fought, dodging those tails and spears. Eric directed some of his fire their way to help them, and also unleashed his energy launcher at the Red Tails behind them.

And then an incredible suction came from the direction of the plains. The wind picked up, gusting past.

“Hang on!” Marlborough said.

Eric deployed his shield and slammed it into the rocky terrain, lodging it between two rocks so he was locked in place. He ordered the other Ravagers to do the same. The Cicadas dug in by punching their fists into the rock, and hung on while their feet were extended backwards behind them.

The humans tried to hang on, too, but they were restricted to grabbing whatever handholds were available on the rise. Some couldn’t find any, and hurtled backward. Some were able to find handholds, but were too weak to hang on for long.

Red Tails and velociraptor creatures were drawn away, too, their claws scrabbling along the ground. All of the velociraptors were lost, but many of the Red Tails on the ground below were able to find handholds. Bambi and Crusher had latched onto the surface by punching their fingers through the rock.

The Red Tails on the plains behind them were also doing their best to dig in.

“Hang on to me!” Brontosaurus said.

The heavy gunner produced the tip from the spool of the carbon fiber cord at his utility belt, and shoved it toward Eric, who grabbed it in his free hand, wrapping it around his finger a few times.

Then Brontosaurus let go of the rock, and allowed the suction to pull him toward the plains. He halted the unspooling near a mother and her child; the mother was hanging on to a rock with one hand, and to her child with the other. Brontosaurus grabbed them both, then jabbed his toes into the ground, finding purchase. Then he walked, slowly but surely, against the wind, and drew the rope up against another group of Kurds who were huddling behind an outcrop, barely hanging on, and secured it around them so that they would stay in place.

Eric searched the plains for the source of that incredible suction. There, about three hundred meters behind.

“The hell is that!” Manticore said.

“Looks like a mini black hole or something,” Eagleeye said.

“Can’t be a black hole,” Slate said. “Or we’d all be dead already. Gotta be some kind of controlled wormhole. A rip in space time.”

“Even better,” Eagleeye quipped.

Eric stared at the plains behind him. About halfway between the front lines of the Red Tails on the plains, and the rise housing Eric and the others, hovered what could best be described as a “pinch” in midair. It was like someone had taken reality and pinched their fingers together around it so that the very air itself had developed crimps and folds nearby. Light bent around that pinch, so that at the edges, amid the folds, the plains and bioweapons could be seen as if viewed through a funhouse mirror type lens.

The pinch had already carved a sizable crater into the rocky ground underneath, and as Eric watched, that crater enlarged as pieces ripped away from the surrounding edges and were sucked into the central core, where they instantaneously stretched before vanishing. A screaming Kurdish woman was sucked in as he watched, and when she reached the center, Eric slowed down time and watched as her body distorted like the crimped air around it, stretching and compressing until nothing was left of her.

He let time snap back to its normal speed.

“Well, whatever it is, we need to find a way to get rid of it, now!” Marlborough said.

“What created it?” Dickson asked.

“There!” Dunnigan said. “Check out that Black Tail, mate. Look at what it’s carrying.”

A red highlight appeared on Eric’s map. He glanced in that direction, and on the plains behind him, he saw a Black Tail amid the other bioweapons that were dug in. This one had rammed its feet into the rock, breaking it so that it was firmly lodged in place. On its back was a large, silvery double-barreled cannon of some kind.

“That’s probably our source,” Hicks said. “Should we take it out?”

“No!” Eric said. “We need them to close the wormhole first.”

“And then we take it out…” Hicks said.

“I want that weapon salvaged at all costs,” Marlborough said. “Scorpion, as soon as the wormhole is gone, target that creature. Get that weapon.”

“Will do,” Eric said.

“Assuming the wormhole ever goes away!” Slate said.

“Maybe you should fire that energy weapon of yours at the rip,” Brontosaurus suggested.

“No,” Frogger said. “That will only feed the aberration. Especially if it’s some kind of black hole. They absorb all energy. You’ll make it worse.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing…” Eric said.

He noted that the tear in reality was closer to the Black Tail and the other bioweapons on the plains, than it was to the rise harboring the humans and robots.

Their first mistake.

10

“Hang on!” Eric transmitted in both English and Arabic.

Eric charged his energy cannon for ten seconds, then released the beam at the wormhole. He zoomed in: the “pinch” became a visible, black sphere about the size of a human thumbnail, floating in the air.

“Yup, that’s a black hole,” Slate said. “Bitches have black hole generators. How are we supposed to fight shit like that?”

The pull increased along with the size. A few more humans were drawn to their deaths from the rise. More Red Tails lost their purchase on the rocky plains as well. The crater enlarged.

Eric charged his cannon, and fired again.

Once more the rent in spacetime grew subtly, and the pull increased. More humans were lost. A portion of the rock crumbled away below, and a Breacher unit was sucked to its doom.

The crater enlarged as the surrounding edges broke away, so that the pit now reached the front ranks of the Red Tails on the plains, causing a whole swath of them to be sucked upward.

The Black Tail realized then what Eric was trying to do: the growing crater would cause the bioweapons to be sucked into the wormhole before their prey.

The Black Tail tilted its centipede body forward slightly, and bent its torso forward, and then fired the double-barreled cannon. An energy beam emerged, striking the tear in spacetime, and instantly it winked out, ending the inexorable pull.

Before any of the extended bodies around Eric could slam back down into the rock underneath, he was firing his jetpack. He instructed his mechs to follow, so that they were all arcing over the plains and bioweapons in the vanguard, toward the huge Black Tail set well within their ranks.

Eric slowed down time.

“Bronto, I’m going to need your spear,” Eric transmitted, knowing that the heavy gunner would match his time when the transmission came in.

In slow motion, Brontosaurus retrieved an alien spear from where he’d shoved it into the back of his harness, and he threw it upward.

Eric sped up time slightly, and altered his motion so that he was flying toward the object; he pinched the spear out of the air, gripping it between two of his big fingers, and then accelerated forward once more.

As he arced down toward the Black Tail, he threw it toward the big tango.

Time was still passing slower, so he watched the spear gradually rain down. It struck the invisible energy dome, but instead of passing through, it bounced right off, and the outline of the dome flashed into view where it hit.

They’re adapting.

Eric swerved out of the way so that he wouldn’t smash into the energy field, too, and transmitted the order to his Ravagers.

He landed on one of the Red Tails, crunching into the carapace area, and the legs underneath collapsed so that the entire body smashed into the ground. The bioweapon swung its glandular sac down upon him, but Eric swiveled out of the way, and the sac broke upon the carapace, killing the creature while steeping its body in the sticky goo.

Eric fired his energy weapon at the encroaching bioweapons while spinning his body so that the weapon cut an arc around him and took down several at once. The Ravagers fought at his back, firing in autonomous mode, and either hamstringing or busting the sacs of other Red Tails.

Eric spun his torso toward the Black Tail, which was quickly bearing down on him. It held a spear in each of its four hands, that wormhole weapon balanced ominously upon its carapace; Eric didn’t think the creature would fire it at such a close range, but he supposed one never knew.

Eric unleashed the energy weapon, and the energy field surrounding the Black Tail lit up but otherwise the weapon didn’t get through.

Eric issued a scatter order and fired his jumpjets, arcing over the Black Tail before it could reach his position. Those four spears swung through the energy field and cut into the air behind Eric. One of the Ravagers was struck and fell in a stream of sparks.

The Black Tail threw one of its spears at Eric while he was still jetting away. Because Bullet Time was still active, he was able to alter his trajectory before the weapon hit, swiveling his body at the same time to ensure he wasn’t exposed. The spear passed underneath him, just below his chest area.

Eric began charging the energy weapon.

“What’s the plan?” Dickson sent.

“I’m charging the cannon,” Eric said as he landed amid the Red Tails on the plains. “I think that energy shield can only absorb so much damage before it fails. Keep firing your weapons at the creature, whenever you can. Wear it down. I’ll finish the job with my cannon. Hicks, get ready to throw a spear at it.”

The Red Tails from the mountain had resumed their assault on the shared position of the Bolt Eaters and Kurds, while those from the plains also assaulted, circling the crater in the ground to besiege the rise. Eric kept a significant portion of those occupied with his Ravagers. And of course he kept the attention of the Black Tail, so that it wouldn’t fire another wormhole closer to the team.

Eric wondered why the Black Tail hadn’t created the wormhole right upon the rise; either the weapon had a limited range, or the Black Tail didn’t want to harm the other bioweapons. Maybe a combination of the two.

Eric continued to charge the cannon as he fought. It glowed a bright blue on his shoulder, until it became blinding to look at. His shoulder began to smoke, thanks to the heat emitted from that unit.

The bioweapons that charged him shielded their eyes, making them easy targets. Even the Black Tail backed off, no doubt intending to put some range between him and itself so that it could use the wormhole weapon.

Eric followed the big creature, wanting to prevent just that.

“Hicks, now!” Eric said.

“Don’t have a clean shot,” Hicks said.

“Then get one!” Eric said.

He and his Ravagers pounded the Black Tail’s energy shield with their lasers, and redirected their fire against any Red Tails that swept into their path. Laser beams from the Cicadas and projectiles from the Kurds also struck the big bioweapon’s energy shield, causing it to spark constantly.

The Black Tail threw two spears at Eric at the same time, and he bumped up his time sense to dodge out of the way. The big bioweapon lowered its torso, exposing the double-barreled cannon. It looked like it was going to fire the wormhole after all, close range be damned.

“Got a shot,” Hicks said.

“Take it!” Eric said.

He bumped up his time sense close to maximum, and watched as everything ground to a halt around him. The alien spear that Hicks had hurtled flew through the air, passing in between the different Red Tails on the plain.

Eric pointed the energy cannon at the Black Tail and fired.

The beam erupted from the shoulder-mounted weapon and almost instantly hit the energy field surrounding the Black Tail. The field lit up all around, and then faded, along with the beam.

The alien spear reached the bioweapon, and passed through the now inactive energy field, ripping right through the Black Tail’s neck. Electricity sparked all along its body.

Eric restored his time sense to normal, and fired his jumpjets as the big alien crumpled. Its tail hit the ground, and the glandular sac burst, oozing black liquid all over the ground, and trapping any of the nearby smaller bioweapons that couldn’t escape in time.

Eric ordered the remaining two Ravagers to join him on the carapace; he fired his ZX-15 at the exposed bioweapons from his advantageous position on that carapace, bursting several glandular sacs.

As more bioweapons came in, he unleashed the energy weapon, which was still quite hot on his shoulder. He realized he was pushing his luck with the weapon, and decided to let it cool down, restricting his firing to his two laser cannons.

But the Red Tails were broken by then. The remainder fled across the plain, scattering, while those that had attacked from the mountain were also retreating, scrambling up the rocky slope.

“Well, well, well,” Slate said. “Now that their big buddy is gone, they’ve lost the will to fight.”

“The Scorpion shows his sting once again,” Frogger said.

“Poor little aliens,” Slate said. “They didn’t have a chance. Almost makes me want to shed a tear for the little bitches.”

“They’re not aliens,” Eageleeye said.

“Poor little alien creations, then,” Slate said.

“You’re going to cry for the dead bioweapons?” Bambi said. “What about the humans? We won, but at what cost? Look at how many of them died.”

“Er,” Slate said. “Yeah. Poor humans, too.”

“He doesn’t really care,” Eagleeye said.

“Neither do I,” Crusher said.

“That’s because you’re heartless,” Bambi said.

“No,” Crusher said. “I just have my priorities straight. The lives of my robot brothers and sisters are far more important than the lives of these soft creatures.”

“You were once one of these ‘soft’ creatures,” Bambi said.

“But not anymore,” Crusher said.

“We lost Hank, too,” Manticore said quietly.

“But there’s a chance we can save him,” Tread said. “His AI core is mostly intact.”

“So, Scorpion, can you remove the weapon?” Marlborough asked. “Is it embedded in the brainstem like the energy cannon was?”

Eric knelt, and examined the edges of the double-barreled silver cannon. “Seems that way. I’ll try to tear it free.”

He folded away his shield and swiveled the ZX-15 out of the way, and then gripped the large cannon. He pulled.

“It doesn’t want to budge,” Eric said. “We might have to rope it, and use the combined power of all three mechs to tear it free.”

“Brontosaurus, get in there,” Marlborough said. “Manticore, Crusher, lend him your spools.”

“One ropin’ cowboy coming up!” Brontosaurus said.

Brontosaurus approached from the side, staying away from the pool of sticky black liquid that had flowed from the punctured glandular sac.

Eric used his jumpjets to land beside the heavy gunner, and he instructed the other two mechs to do the same.

Brontosaurus produced his spool of carbon fiber cable. Eric took the end, and returned to the carapace, wrapping the cord between the front portion of one of the cannon barrels. Then he jetted back beside Brontosaurus; Eric took care not to let the cord sag into the sticky fluid surrounding the Black Tail along the way. When he landed, the heavy gunner secured the other end of the cord to Eric’s waist.

Brontosaurus used the carbon fiber spools Manticore and Crusher had given him to secure the other two Ravagers to the cannon—each mech leaped onto the carapace in turn to attach their cable to the weapon before returning to the ground beside Eric.

Once all three mechs were roped to the weapon, Eric ordered the Ravagers to mirror his motions, then he stepped forward, as did the Ravagers, and the cables grew taut. Together, after much struggling, they finally ripped the weapon free. It hung from the edge of the carapace, connected to the torso at the front by a gory strand of neural tissue.

Eric released the cord that bound him and jetted onto the carapace to tear away the double barrel entirely. Then he thrust back to Brontosaurus so the heavy gunner could retrieve the cords. Eric’s jumpjet fuel was a little low at that point, coming in at forty percent. Well, it would last for a little while longer, anyway. Enough for at least two battles, he figured.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Brontosaurus said.

“Again with the twentieth century colloquialisms,” Eric said.

“Hey, I told you I’ve been watching Star Trek and other classical shows,” Brontosaurus said. “I can’t help it if I’m starting to talk like you, gramps.” He stared at the weapon “Mm. A new toy to play with.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would almost think you were salivating,” Eric said.

“If I were human, I would be,” Brontosaurus said.

“Scorpion, load that up onto one of the mechs,” Marlborough said. “Brontosaurus, you can start experimenting on it when we’re on the road.”

“I’m not sure how wise it is to experiment with a black hole weapon,” Slate said. “You could end up swallowing the Earth.”

“I’m not so worried about that,” Dickson said. “But I am a little concerned that you won’t be able to shut it off afterwards.”

“I’ll just have to be careful,” Brontosaurus said. “Besides, if I can’t shut it off, we can just run away. Very far away.”

“Yeah, you saw how easily we were able to run back there!” Slate said. “As in, not at all!”

“Point taken,” Brontosaurus said. He turned toward Eric. “So, where do you want to put this weapon? On your opposite shoulder?”

Eric examined the weapon. This one had a sizable amount of brain tissue hanging down from underneath the front.

“I’m not sure how I feel about having more brains dripping down my back,” Eric said.

“It’s your choice,” Brontosaurus said. “If you want to give the power to create wormholes to another Ravager because you’re squeamish, then feel free.”

“It’s not so much that I’m giving away the power just because I’m squeamish,” Eric said. “There’s also the small problem regarding the weight: I’m not sure my servomotors will be able to handle the added strain. They’re rated to handle my weight, and a little above it. Beyond that, my servomotors will begin to burn out after an extended period of time.”

“Ah,” Brontosaurus said. “All right. We’ll give it to Slaughter instead.” That was another Ravager.

Brontosaurus went to Slaughter and attached his heavy gun mounts to the mech’s lower back. With his hands now free, he opened the storage panel in Slaughter’s leg and retrieved a bunch of magnetic mounts. He climbed the rungs on the side of the mech’s legs until he was on the upper back above the jumpjets.

“Help me load this onto its right shoulder,” Brontosaurus said. “We’ll orient it to the right, so that if I accidentally fire it during my experimentations, it won’t create a wormhole right in the middle of us.”

Eric positioned the cannon on the shoulder with the double barrels facing outward, while Brontosaurus applied the magnetic mounts.

“And it’s done.” Brontosaurus leaped down to examine his handiwork. Then he scooped up the lower section of the trailing brains, and climbed back onto the mech. He attached different electrical probes onto the tip of the bloody ganglia.

“Well Jim, this is going to be tricky,” Brontosaurus said. “I’m an engineer, not a doctor!”

“That’s supposed to be the reverse,” Eric said.

“I’ll get the references right eventually…” Brontosaurus said.

“Is he misquoting Star Trek again?” Frogger said as he approached with the rest of the platoon.

“Uh huh,” Eric said.

“That’s what happens when you watch the shows at five times the normal speed,” Frogger scolded the heavy gunner.

“Hey, we got the machine cycles to handle it,” Brontosaurus said. “We might as well…”

Marlborough ordered the team to head east, toward the agreed upon rendezvous point with the tanks.

During the march across the termite-ravaged terrain, Brontosaurus wasn’t able to fire the new weapon once. It was taking a lot more work to figure out than the energy weapon, apparently.

“I’m beginning to wonder if you tore away the neurons I need,” Brontosaurus said at one point.

They arrived at the rendezvous point, which was situated in a small valley amid the Caucasus. A defensible position, considering that the mountains only offered steep faces on either side—the robots and humans would face an attack only from one direction. Well, two, if one counted the air.

Brontosaurus kept Slaughter at the edge of the group, well away from most of them, with the double-barreled cannon pointed outward.

While they waited for the tanks, the cannon on Slaughter’s back finally fired, surprising everyone. The beam smashed into the cliff face beside them, but a wormhole didn’t form.

“The hell was that?” Slate asked.

“I think I just hit upon the beam meant to dispel a wormhole, after it’s been created,” Brontosaurus said.

“Well shit man, it’s kind of good you found that first,” Slate said. “Because it’d suck right now if you created a wormhole and couldn’t turn it off.”

“It would indeed,” Brontosaurus said.

Eric sat slightly apart from the others, keeping guard on the perimeter with the remaining Ravager.

Al-Khayr approached alone.

“You were human, once?” the warlord asked in Arabic.

11

Eric glanced down at the warlord.

“We all were,” Eric said. “Well, the Cicadas, and me.”

“I have heard this was possible,” Al-Khayr said. “But I never thought I would see it.” He paused. “You must think we are ants, compared to you.”

“Not at all,” Eric said. “More like cats, compared to my size.”

Al-Khayr frowned.

“I’m joking,” Eric said.

“Ah!” Al-Khayr said, his face brightening. “An American joke.”

“Yes,” Eric said.

“Why did you agree to this?” the warlord asked. “To have your mind moved into a machine? To become an abomination? You will never go to paradise.”

“First of all, I didn’t agree, and second of all, it doesn’t work that way,” Eric replied.

“You were forced into this?” the warlord pressed.

“Essentially, yes,” Eric said. “I had my brain frozen when I died, and the army purchased the cryogenic company’s assets a few centuries later and created me from an image of my brain. I still died. I’m merely a copy.”

“So the real you is dead?” Al-Khayr said. “It does not matter. You still won’t go to paradise.”

“I’m not too worried about it,” Eric said.

The warlord rubbed his lower lip. “So you are dead. But this machine, it holds your memories, and your knowledge. So some of you lives on.”

“That’s an apt description,” Eric said.

The warlord nodded slowly. “I’d almost want to do something similar to myself. Perform some sort of mind dump so that my knowledge endures for my tribe. But it still seems an abomination. A violation of all that is sacred. I don’t think I could do it. And if I was forced, my copies would destroy themselves. I’m surprised you and your brethren haven’t done the same.”

“We all have our own reasons to go on,” Eric said.

Al-Khayr stared out at the plains beyond the two mountains ahead. “You know, I’ve lived here since I was a child. I’ve watched your armies come and go. Watched ever more advanced robots arrive each time. Technology is supposed to help humankind rise above the shackles of conflict, and allow us to live in an era of peace and prosperity, free of war, but instead, your technology has only given you more excuses to cause those conflicts in the first place. The wars here in my lands, they fund the production of your robots. Without war, you would not exist.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Eric said.

“I think these alien invaders are the same,” Al-Khayr said. He pointed toward the sky. “Wars funded everything they have. To achieve spacefaring status, to want to travel the stars, one needs a reason. And that reason is war. The aliens, they came here to fight, to conquer us. It’s the only explanation.”

“It’s certainly one explanation,” Eric said. “And a feasible one, at that.”

The warlord finally returned his gaze to Eric. “Do you think of yourself as a man? Locked in the body of a machine?”

“I do, in fact,” Eric said. “I have to. I think I’d lose it, if I didn’t.”

The warlord pressed his lips together. “I suggest burning away that part of yourself. Scour it to dust. Because when you face these aliens, you must show no pity, and fight like a merciless machine. You must fight like them. It’s the only way to save us.”

Al-Khayr walked away.

“What did he want?” Marlborough asked over the comm.

“To give me his version of a pep talk, I think,” Eric said. He sent a log of the conversation over.

Marlborough obviously viewed it at a higher time sense, because he replied only seconds later: “He’s a strange one.”

Eric couldn’t help adding: “Mr. Grinch.”

“What was that?” Marlborough said.

“Never mind,” Eric said.

Frogger came to join him next. “Hey myself.”

“Hey yourself,” Eric agreed.

“We’re talking gibberish to each other today. Nice.” Frogger aimed his rifle at the plains, helping to watch for targets. “I heard you say Mr. Grinch over the comm. Figured you could use someone from your own time period to talk to.”

“Yeah, but talking to you is like talking to—”

“Yourself, I know,” Frogger said.

“Maybe we should stop completing—”

“Each other’s sentences?” Frogger said. “Probably. You got it wrong, by the way.”

“What wrong?”

“Mr. Grinch,” Frogger said. “It’s supposed to be: ‘he’s a mean one, Mr. Grinch.’ Not ‘he’s a strange one.’”

“Oh, I know,” Eric said. “I couldn’t help it, though.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Frogger said. “Hey, Bambi approached me earlier.”

“Let me guess, she wants you to join her in VR later,” Eric said.

“Actually, she was asking if the two of us wanted to join her,” Frogger said.

“And you told her no, I hope?” Eric said.

“I told her I’d think about it,” Frogger said. “It might be kind of fun.”

“I’ll pass,” Eric said. “Tell her she’s welcome to emulate us if she wants.”

“Oh, but emulation is inferior to interacting with the real thing,” Bambi said, walking over.

“Nice of the two of you to relieve me,” Eric said. “Enjoy your watch standing.”

He walked away.

“Well that was rude,” Bambi said to his back.

Eric returned to the rest of the party. He was careful to keep his energy cannon pointed away from them at all times, by keeping his torso partially rotated.

He went to Mickey, who was seated beside Massacre, and continuing his experiments on the trapped termite.

“Any updates?” Eric asked him.

“No,” Mickey said. “I’ve tried all known frequencies and bands. I even tried directing some of the EM signals I recorded during some fights with the termites, but I don’t get anything. I think the plates of this containment field are interfering. It’s the only explanation.”

“Well, no one ever said reverse-engineering alien tech was going to be easy,” Eric said.

“You and Brontosaurus did it pretty well,” Mickey said.

“No,” Eric said. “We actually didn’t. We figured out how to use it, yes, but not how it works. Those are two different things.”

“I suppose so,” Mickey said. “I just wish there was some brain tissue dangling out of this micro machine that I could shove some electric probes into for stimulation purposes. You guys had it easy. First I have to actually find the frequency band these machines are using to communicate. Then I have to determine the protocol. Then I have to determine the encryption. And on and on. It’s going to take a very long time. Hundreds of years, in fact.”

“We don’t need you to communicate with them,” Eric said. “If you could find out what frequency they’re using, that should be good enough. Because then we just need to come up with a way to outpunch that frequency.”

“Again, not an easy task, considering how many of them there are,” Mickey said.

“True,” Eric agreed. “You got your work cut out for you.”

“What does that mean?” Mickey said.

“Just an old colloquialism,” Eric said. “It means, you’re work certainly isn’t going to be easy.”

“I can agree with that,” Mickey said.

Eric went to Marlborough and Dickson and sat beside them.

“I think it’s fairly obvious by now that the tanks aren’t going to come,” Marlborough said. “We’ll wait another hour, and then continue east.”

“We have to find a way to get off this continent,” Eric said. “And do our best to help North and South America.”

“And Central,” Dickson added.

“Central, of course,” Eric said.

“All we can really do is hope to find a mode of transportation,” Marlborough said. “Something that could fly us to the East Coast of North America before the swarm reaches it.”

“What then?” Eric asked.

“We drop off samples of the technology we’ve captured, and hope that the scientists come up with something in time,” Marlborough said.

“Unless we come up with something first,” Eric said. “With the technology we’ve captured…”

“If we do, then as soon as we find a way out of here, we’ll fly to the termite storm and destroy it,” Marlborough said.

“What’s East?” Eric asked.

“You remember the alien transport we saw earlier?” Marlborough said. “The one that brought in the slop for the bioweapons at Malibu base? It headed east when it departed. The aliens have to have a command and control center somewhere nearby. So we travel east, in the same direction as that transport, and keep an eye on the thermal and visual bands, scanning the horizons for signs of any structures, or ships.”

“And what if we don’t find anything?” Eric said.

“Then we’ll continue east,” Marlborough said. “Eventually we’ll reach Iran. The Iranians have underground bases. If we’re lucky, we’ll find one that survived the passage of the micro machine swarm.”

“Iran?” Eric said. “It’s too far. Even if we find an intact base there, and defeat any guard units, any transport we find will never convey us to North America before the swarm crosses the Pacific…”

“If we keep up a good pace, we can make it to Iran with time to spare,” Marlborough said.

Eric glanced at the group of humans. “A good pace… to do that, we’ll have to leave behind the Kurds.”

“I’ve already decided to do just that, yes,” Marlborough said. He pointed to the shoulder of the mountain. “There’s a cave here. I’ve talked with the warlord. He’s agreed that it’s probably safest for the tribe to hide out here until further notice. Especially considering that there are roving bands of bioweapons on the plains. I want you to escort them, along with Traps, and some of the Savages.”

“When?” Eric asked.

“Well, the rest of us are only going to wait an hour, so now would be a good time,” Marlborough said.

Eric fetched Traps, and with a few of the Savages, they escorted the grim-faced Kurds deeper into the valley, and up the shoulder toward the cave entrance. When they reached it, Eric had Traps send one of the Savages inside to scout.

While they waited, Al-Khayr approached Eric.

“So we part ways, Robot,” the warlord said. “Thank you for doing what you could to help us.”

“We’ll send a team back for you, if we survive,” Eric said.

“If you survive,” Al-Khayr said. “That is the key, isn’t it?”

“Forget if,” Eric said. “We will.”

The scout returned a while later. “Looks clear. There’s a cavern about two hundred meters inside. You can hole up there. It’s too bad you don’t have any more of those demolition bricks though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Al-Khayr said. “If they find us, we will retreat deeper. We know these caves.”

“You have a map?” Eric asked.

Al-Khayr nodded. He tapped his temple, smiled politely, and then led his tribe into the cave. The men, women and children filed inside after him.

Eric marked the location on his map using his internal coordinate system, since GPS wasn’t active. It would be accurate enough for a retrieval mission.

“You think they’ll be all right?” Traps asked.

“I honestly have no idea,” Eric said.

He, Traps and the Savages returned to the main platoon.

“Well, Bolt Eaters,” Marlborough said. “It’s been about an hour. It’s time to set out again.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving them like this,” Bambi said. “It feels wrong.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Marlborough said. “And they’ve agreed that they’ll only be a drag on us. We move out.”

The group started on its way.

“We should at least leave someone behind to guard them,” Bambi said.

“Are you volunteering?” Crusher said.

“Well, no...” Bambi said.

“Then keep your mouth shut,” Crusher said.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you hillbilly trash,” Bambi said.

Before Eric could blink, Crusher was on Bambi, smashing her face with her fists.

“I can’t believe I saved your sorry life!” Crusher said.

Bambi grabbed Crusher’s wrists and slammed her metal-polycarbonate head into Crusher’s face, and swiveled her body, managing to get on top. Then it was her turn to pound.

Marlborough threw himself at them and tore them apart.

“You call yourself professional soldiers?” Marlborough said. “Fighting during the middle of a mission? Wasting our time? You should be ashamed of yourselves. If we weren’t separated from central command, I’d have you stripped of your ranks and decommissioned immediately, your AI cores sent back to cold storage. But I need you, so I can’t do that.”

“She started it,” Bambi told Marlborough.

“No she did!” Crusher said. “Calling me hillbilly trash. How dare she! If there’s anyone who’s unprofessional, it’s her.”

"I never claimed to be a professional," Bambi said, sounding a little snooty with her French accent. "I was only ever a reservist."

"Most of the Bolt Eaters aren't professionals," Marlborough said. "I can respect that. We were either reservists, or retired from the army for many years when we died. Myself, I was neither. I never left. I was a lifer. And I expect discipline from you all. I know it's hard, now that you have emotions again. But we have to work with it. Shake hands, you two, and ask for forgiveness." When neither Bambi nor Crusher made a move to obey, he added: “Now!”

Bambi shot out her hand, and Crusher accepted.

“I’m sorry,” Bambi said, her gaze lower.

“Me too,” Crusher said, also unable to meet Bambi’s robot eyes.

“Now let’s move out team!” Marlborough said. “Time’s a-wasting!”

Manticore remained still while the rest of the platoon moved on.

“Is there a problem, Corporal?” Marlborough asked the man.

“I’m sorry, Sarge,” Manticore said. “I’m going to stay. And do my best to protect the humans.”

“You’ve developed a heart, too, huh?” Marlborough said. “Well, too bad. I can’t let you stay. I’m going to require every last one of you in the coming hours and days. I need you. Your brothers and sisters need you. It’s more important now than ever that we stay together.”

“You don’t understand,” Manticore said. “I’m going to be a detriment to the team. I’ve been having a lot of negative thoughts lately. Ever since breaking free from my emotion code. I don’t think I’ll be able to hang on much longer.” He held up two fingers and pinched them close together. “I’m this close to losing it. Could happen the next fight. Or the one after. I’m a powder keg waiting to go off. Trust me Sarge, it’s better if you leave me behind.”

“No one gets left behind,” Marlborough said. “If you lose it, we’ll be here for you. We’ll walk you back down to sanity. But you’re not staying here to die.”

“So you admit it,” Bambi said. “We’re leaving the Kurds to die.”

“No,” Marlborough said. “That’s not what I meant. The Kurds can take care of themselves. The warlord already agreed with me. They’ve got weapons. They’ve got food. They know these lands. But Manticore here? If we leave him, he’s liable to do something irrational. He’ll throw himself to the wolves, as it were. Seeking some glorious death.”

“How do we know he won’t do the same thing if he stays with us?” Eagleeye said.

“Shut up, bro,” Slate said. “Don’t side with Manticore. Bitch has to come with us, and he knows it.”

“He admitted he’s a powder keg,” Eagleeye said. “That doesn’t sit all that well with me.”

“Manticore is coming with us,” Marlborough said. “Eric, Frogger, I want you to see if you can find a way to restore the Containment Code. It seems that not all of us can handle being free.”

“I knew this was going to happen,” Brontosaurus said. “I knew we’d have trouble dealing with emotions.”

“In the meantime, we’ve already loitered here long enough,” Marlborough said. “We move out. Manticore, I want you to open up a counseling session with your Accomp immediately. Run it via background cycles. Get yourself sorted out.”

“I’ll do my best, Sarge,” Manticore said.

“No, not your best,” Marlborough said. “Get yourself sorted.”

“I will,” the heavy gunner said.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Crusher said. “Or I’ll crush his balls.”

“Sweet of you,” Manticore said.

“I always was a sweetie,” Crusher said.

They had only gone maybe ten meters before Mickey spoke up.

“Hey, got some news,” Mickey said.

“What do you have?” Marlborough said, slowing to walk beside the comm officer, who was mounted on the back of Massacre.

“Well, I finally got a response from the micro machine,” Mickey said. “I was using my LIDAR unit to beam photons into it, but I figured I needed to try a higher energy variant, so I added in a focusing mirror from one of the MX-22 laser rifles, upping the energy of photons from the LIDAR. I kept varying the frequency, until finally the latest caused the unit to send out a signal. I think I’ve finally hit on their comm band.”

“They communicate with high energy photons?” Eagleeye said.

“They must,” Mickey said.

“What direction did the emission travel?” Marlborough asked.

“Every direction,” Mickey said. “Three hundred sixty degrees. The frequency was just below the gamma.”

“So basically, you irradiated us,” Bambi said.

“There wasn’t enough to cause any harm,” Mickey said. “Obviously.”

Eric heard a strange warbling roar.

“Uh, guys,” Manticore said. “You might want to look to the east. Above the mountain.”

Eric looked up and to the east. He understood what had produced that warbling roar: it was a sonic boom, distorted by the mountainside.

A large vessel had come into view. It was shaped like a flat, silver diamond. An alien transport.

“Good job,” Slate said. “You just called in the cavalry.”

The craft hovered overhead. From the tip of the diamond, a black cloud emerged. It quickly became apparent that the cloud was a swarm of termites, because it swerved down toward the platoon.

The micro machines stopped venting from the transport, and the craft departed to the east without bothering to watch the outcome.

As if the outcome was already predetermined: that the Bolt Eaters would lose.

Eric stared at the vast incoming cloud above him, and he couldn’t help the sinking feeling that took hold inside of him then, because he realized the aliens were probably right.

12

Eric immediately began charging his energy cannon. He pointed it up at the cloud, and prepared to fire.

“Forward!” Marlborough said. “We retreat... can’t let those termites touch the mechs! The rest of you, electrify your hulls! And fire on the move!”

Eric led the way forward, with Slaughter and Massacre just behind his mech. The Cicadas and support robots followed.

He emerged from the valley and headed west, away from the swarm. He twisted his torso so his upper body was facing the incoming micro machines, and instructed Dee to take over the feet to ensure he didn’t trip while his attention was turned skyward.

The termites were closing with the Bolt Eaters. For every meter covered by the Cicadas, the swarm covered one point five. Eric pulled ahead slightly from the main platoon, along with the other Ravagers, since the mechs were capable of faster speeds.

The canon was blindingly bright by that point, and his shoulder region had started to smoke from the heat, so he decided to fire the weapon. He aimed the HUD crosshairs at the heart of the swarm, and released.

To his surprise, the swarm parted as the thick energy beam came in. Some of the slower micro machines were caught in the path of the deadly beam, but the rest had formed a donut shape, allowing the energy to pass by without harming them.

“They didn’t do that with the electrolasers,” Dunnigan said.

“No, they didn’t,” Eric said. “My guess is they’re already programmed to respond to these beams, since the tech was designed by the same aliens after all. They never encountered electrolasers before.”

“But the cannon would have to relay targeting information for them to respond in time,” Frogger said. “Maybe when you squeeze the trigger, it transmits the positional space of the crosshairs on their comm band.”

“That would make sense,” Eric said.

“Here’s wishing we had the damn Jupiters with us still,” Slate said.

During that time, the rest of the team had been firing their lasers non-stop at the swarm, causing impacted micro machines to rain to the ground. But there were too many of them to make much of a difference.

Eric switched to his laser cannons, too, now, given that the energy weapon was useless against them.

“Bronto, you got any news on the wormhole cannon?” Eric asked the heavy gunner, who was still attached to Slaughter.

“That’s a negative,” Brontosaurus said.

“Maybe try firing one of those wormhole dispersion bolts at them,” Eric said.

Brontosaurus did so.

The bolt traveled upward, but this time the micro machines ignored it entirely. The bolt passed right through them all, causing no effect whatsoever.

“Well, that’s not going to work,” Slate said.

“What if we made a shell,” Frogger said on the run. The cloud was still slowly gaining.

“What are you saying, fool?” Slate asked.

“We surround the mechs with Cicadas and support robots,” Hicks said. “Forming a shield with our bodies.”

“Won’t work,” Frogger said. “As soon as we touch the mechs, we’ll ground our units, and the electricity will flow straight into the earth.”

“What if we didn’t touch the mechs?” Hicks said.

“Still won’t work,” Frogger said. “They’ll get through the nooks and crannies we leave... between the crooks of our elbows, backs of the knees, and so forth.”

“Maybe we can interlock arms?” Crusher said. “And share our power supplies to electrify all of our hulls? Then we stand here, and hold them off, drawing them away from Scorpion and the other two.”

“There’s still too many of them,” Dickson said. “We’ll be covered in the termites. They’ll suck our batteries dry.”

And then gunfire erupted from the opening to the valley.

“It’s the Kurds!” Mickey said.

“The hell they doing?” Slate said. “Morons are going to get themselves killed!”

Sure enough, half the swarm diverted to deal with the armed Kurds.

“Damn it,” Marlborough said. “Exactly what I didn’t want. They were supposed to stay holed up in that cave. Safe. And now they’ve doomed themselves.”

And then a bolt exploded from the double-barreled cannon. It dissipated one hundred meters behind and above the party. A wormhole appeared, pinching reality, and immediately Eric felt the suction. The wind picked up, gusting past him.

“Found it!” Brontosaurus said.

“Bronto bro!” Slate said. “You da man. I could kiss you, my pretty lifesaver!”

Eric swiveled his ZX-15 out of the way, formed a claw with his hand, and slammed it into the ground, making a handhold for himself so he wouldn’t be sucked away. He instructed the other mechs to do the same. Meanwhile, Mickey and Brontosaurus were magnetically attached to Massacre and Slaughter respectively, so they weren’t pulled away.

The other Cicadas and support troops similarly punched the ground, and planted themselves in place.

The wormhole had materialized high enough so it didn’t draw rocks away from the ground directly below, and no crater appeared this time.

Eric looked at the distant valley entrance, and saw that the Kurds had wrapped their arms around whatever rocks they could find. One man was being dragged across the ground, his feet in the air, and he scrabbled with his fingers, until he finally found purchase and arrested his withdrawal.

The swarm was affected, too. But not quite the way Eric had been expecting.

The individual micro machines were able to generate enough power to counter the drag. It must have been a tremendous expenditure of energy on their part, but the cloud was managing to slowly pull away. The closer swarm very slowly circled the tear in reality, and began making their way to the stopped platoon. Meanwhile the farther cloud was continuing toward the Kurds at a crawl.

“I don’t believe this shit,” Slate said. “The bitches are able to resist a black hole? I hate aliens!”

“I’ll remedy that,” Eric said.

He let his energy launcher charge for five seconds, and then he aimed the crosshairs over the tear in reality. He fired.

The thick energy beam struck the wormhole, and it enlarged, forming a marble of pure blackness.

The pull increased. As did the wind.

The swarm was no longer able to move away from the wormhole, and instead remained fixed in place.

“That’s the way,” Marlborough said. “Again!”

Eric let the energy launcher charge until smoke began to stream from his shoulder toward the wormhole. Then he fired.

The wormhole enlarged once again, becoming a bowling ball of infinite darkness. No light could escape that tear.

Nor could the micro machines. They were drawn rapidly into the wormhole, vanishing in thick clusters.

Eric felt the pull increase drastically; gale force winds gusted past as all the air in the area was sucked inward. He had to punch his other hand into the ground because he was worried the surface would break away underneath him.

The other mechs and robots faced similar problems, and they all punched their free hands, and sometimes feet, into the ground.

“Holy shit!” Traps said.

Eric glanced at the Kurds. They were having just as much trouble. Some of them had tied their hands to rocks with ropes, while others struggled to hang on with both hands. Two men succumbed to the pull as he watched, and were drawn upward and into the hole.

The micro machines had all been consumed by that point.

“Okay, Bronto, shut it down,” Marlborough said.

“Gladly,” Brontosaurus said.

From Slaughter, a dispersion bolt erupted.

Except when it struck the wormhole, another tear in reality appeared in front of it.

The pull increased further.

“Uh,” Slate said.

“Whoops,” Brontosaurus said. “Wrong ganglia.”

“Now I know what it feels like to be hit by a tornado!” Hicks said.

Brontosaurus launched another bolt from the wormhole weapon, and the smaller rent in reality vanished, reducing the pull. He fired again, hitting the larger tear, and it shrunk slightly.

“Hm,” Brontosaurus said. “Guess it takes a bit to shrink them, when you’ve let them grow too big.”

Brontosaurus fired the dispersion bolt again, and again, slowly causing the sphere to grow smaller each time, until finally it winked out entirely.

The wind subsided, and Eric fell to the ground, along with the other mechs. He searched the ground, and the sky, for signs of the micro machines, but none had survived. The only termite with them was the one trapped within the containment field carried on Massacre’s back.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Eric said.

“Thank you for your help,” Marlborough transmitted in Arabic. “Please return to the cave now.”

“You’re welcome,” Al-Khayr said over the comm. “Our debt to you is repaid.”

The distant Kurdish troops vanished into the valley.

“I didn’t know they owed us a debt,” Slate said. “Feels like it was wasted, here.”

“Do you know what you’ve done, you two?” Marlborough said.

“Uh, created humanity’s first wormhole?” Brontosaurus said.

“I’m talking about you and Mickey,” Marlborough told the heavy gunner. “The two of you have found a way to save our planet.”

* * *

Eric and the others moved east rapidly under the molten sun, traveling as fast as their servomotors were capable now that they had abandoned the humans. The strain on those magnetic motors was audible, and the lower joints of his mech whirred in complaint. It wasn’t his top cruising speed, however: the Ravagers could travel faster than the Cicadas and support robots, but since there weren’t enough mechs to carry everyone, the overall progress of the platoon was limited by the maximum cruising speed of the Cicadas. The Cicadas could surmount their cruising speed of course, but pushing above that was recommended only for short bursts because of the risk of burning out a servomotor.

Eric’s sensors told him it was hot out there, but of course he felt only a fraction of the heat. Breaking out of his Containment Code hadn’t damaged his ability to set his heat sensitivity levels, so he kept it at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, when in reality his HUD status indicator reported the hull temperature in the one hundred twenties. Though around the knee areas the temperature was far higher, thanks to the heat produced by the straining servos. Cooling units helped push that heat downward to the foot area, reducing their upper body thermal footprint, but it didn’t help all that much in the day, nor at their present speed. Then again, because the land around them literally radiated heat during the daytime, they were essentially invisible on the thermal band. And thanks to their stealth skin, they blended in on the visual. That left them vulnerable only to detection systems like echolocation and LIDAR.

“Geez, I could cook an egg on my knees right about now, ” Slate complained.

“I still think this plan isn’t going to work,” Hicks said. “The storm is too big.”

“It has to work,” Marlborough said. “Humanity has no other option.”

“Yeah, assuming we can actually find a way to reach the storm in time,” Hicks said. “We’re kind of trapped in the middle of nowhere right now. What if we find nothing to the east? What if there’s no alien command and control base anywhere here? And even if there is, what makes you think we’ll be able to use any equipment we find? Not everything will be as easy to repurpose as those two cannons. Hell, I’m surprised we were able to control them at all.”

“Yeah, me too,” Slate said. “These aliens must be stupid as hell if they’re going to leave advanced tech lying around for the taking on their own bioweapons. At least program in a self-destruct mechanism or something.”

“Maybe they couldn’t be bothered,” Bambi said. “Maybe, in their hubris, they thought we ‘primitives’ would never figure out how to take control of the things.”

"Or maybe they just feel really bad about exterminating us,” Eagleeye said. “Could be that they want to give us at least a small chance of fighting back. You know, that way they feel good before hitting the extinction button."

“Yeah, give all the excuses you want, they’s pretty stupid,” Slate said.

“They’s?” Eagleeye said. “Nice grammar. Are you sure they are the stupid ones, and not you?”

“Yeah, you wanna go bitch?” Slate said. “Right now. Show me what you got.”

“We’re on mission,” Eagleeye said.

“I knew you was a pussy,” Slate said.

“I wouldn’t say the aliens are exactly stupid,” Eric said. “But more like arrogant, as Bambi said.”

She looked at him, and her LEDs seemed to smile. Crusher, meanwhile, wore a scowl on her LEDs.

“Think about it,” Eric said. “They never thought we’d put up any sort of a fight. They didn’t bother to consider that we might forcibly take their weapons from them. Or that we’d even have the ability to do so. They thought we would be a thorn in their side, nothing more. And until we can actually reach the swarm, that’s exactly what we’ll remain.”

“You know, it might be faster if we use that captured termite to call home again,” Slate said. “Get them to send in one of those transport vessels. And then we can jump on it or something.”

“If you’ll recall, it was a bit too high to ‘jump’ on,” Dickson said. “Even for a mech. Let’s not push our luck. We proceed east, and if we don’t find an alien base we think we can assault, we continue until we hit Iran. That’s the best we can do for now.”

“Then we’re going to Iran,” Slate said. “Because when we find an alien base, I doubt we’ll be able to assault it.”

“Better pick up the pace, then,” Dickson said.

13

The Bolt Eaters continued at their fastest speed, moving at a blur across the rocky terrain. Occasionally the mountains trended hard south before coming north again, and for the sake of speed, Marlborough chose to travel across the bare desert formed between the two ranges. Doing so caused the Bolt Eaters to leave long plumes of dust in the air behind them. Eric was a little worried the dust would draw attackers, and like the others, he constantly scanned the rocky plains for roving bands of bioweapons. It was always with relief that the team returned to the mountains.

Brontosaurus remained mounted to Slaughter on drag, and he continued to experiment with the wormhole cannon while on the run.

“Okay, just be warned people, I’m going to be creating a few wormholes here, so don’t freak out or anything,” Brontosaurus said.

“I want you to keep well away from the rest of the platoon,” Marlborough said. “As in, a minimum of four hundred meters distance from the drag man.”

“You got it, boss,” Brontosaurus said from the back of Slaughter.

Eric gave control of Slaughter over to Brontosaurus, and the heavy gunner moved the mech to the requested range and began his experiments. Unfortunately, even four hundred meters wasn’t enough to escape the effects of the wormhole, and when Brontosaurus created one, the rest of the team had to dig in so they weren’t dragged back.

Brontosaurus quickly fired the necessary dispersion bolt, and the tear in reality faded.

“This is going to be a long march,” Slate said

“I’m going to have to ask you to move back by five hundred meters,” Marlborough said.

“You got it, boss,” Brontosaurus said.

“Don’t fall behind too far,” Marlborough said, alluding to the fact that Slaughter would have to dig in when the heavy gunner created each wormhole. “We can’t afford to wait for you.”

Once more Brontosaurus moved back. The following wormhole he created didn’t affect the rest of the team at first—the Bolt Eaters felt the wind pick up, and that was it. But Brontosaurus created three more at the same time, and the Bolt Eaters had to dig in once again.

Brontosaurus quickly dispersed the wormholes when he realized he’d held up the team.

“Can you stop that shit!” Slate said.

“But I have to test all the parameters!” Brontosaurus said.

“I’m going to have to ask you to move back yet again,” Marlborough said. “If you plan on testing four wormholes, I want you at least two kilometers behind us.”

“Okay, okay,” Brontosaurus said.

The heavy gunner moved back once more, and the team experienced no further delays.

About an hour later Brontosaurus eventually concluded his experiments.

“There doesn’t seem to be a way to control the range,” he reported. “The wormhole always appears a hundred meters in front of the launcher. I can boost the intensity by creating multiple wormholes. And Scorp can do that as well by firing his energy cannon into the spacetime tear. But otherwise, yeah, that’s all I’ve learned.”

“So nothing new, really,” Slate said.

“I suppose not,” Brontosaurus agreed.

“Where do you think the wormhole leads?” Eagleeye said.

“Only one place,” Brontosaurus said. “Hell. Care to confirm for me?”

“No thanks.”

Brontosaurus had fallen behind by three kilometers by then, but since he was riding a mech he was able to catch up relatively easily. He returned control of Slaughter to Eric. Tread hadn’t yet asked Eric to cede the mechs back to him… the armor operator was probably feeling a little down because he’d lost so many of the units, as well as the tanks, which were his preference. Maybe he just didn’t want the responsibility anymore.

Eric asked him about it on a private line, saying: “I don’t think Marlborough intended for me to keep control of the armor units permanently…”

“Maybe,” Tread said. “But he still hasn’t given any orders countermanding that. Besides, I told myself I’d manage the armor units while it was still fun. It’s just not fun anymore.”

“War isn’t supposed to be fun,” Eric said.

“I know,” Tread said. “But it was, for me. At least while Morpheus and Hank were still around. They used to control the mechs, for the most part, and I handled the tanks. That’s why they call me Tread. But now Morpheus and Hank are gone, as are the tanks, and most of the mechs. You take control of them, Scorp. I just… I can’t.”

“Hank isn’t lost, not yet,” Eric said. “You saved his AI core.”

“True, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to repair the damage,” Tread said.

“We will,” Eric said. “And you know it.”

“Who knows? You could be right. But what about Morpheus? She’s gone forever. All the backups destroyed.”

Eric didn’t have anything to say to that.

“These feelings,” Tread said. “I wish I’d never accepted them.”

“I hear you,” Eric said.

Eric continued the march in silence. He kept an eye on the mountains to the north, and the plains to the south.

A short while later Slate decided to spark up a conversation over the general comm.

“Hey Manure, one thing I’ve been wondering,” Slate said.

No on answered.

“Manure!” Slate said.

Manticore sighed over the comm. “It’s Manticore,” the heavy gunner said. A short distance in front of Eric, he continued to scan the plains.

“Manure, Manicure, whatever,” Slate said. “Anyway, why’d you decide to get your head cut off and thrown into a vat of ice?”

Manticore laughed. “That’s your question?”

“Uh, yeah,” Slate said.

“Why did I decide to get my head cut off…” Manticore said. “I was dumb. I believed all those science fiction stories I read about waking up in a technological utopia. Thought I’d find myself in a young, healthy body, maybe one cloned from my own cells. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d wake up inside a machine. Well, I mean, I knew it was a possibility. But I just didn’t think it would turn out this way. I thought if my consciousness ended up in a machine, I’d be an android that at least looked something like a human. You know, with synthetic skin, and memory metals for muscles, that sort of thing. Not a war machine that was all hard angles with buzzing servomotors and an LED mask for a face. But I suppose things could have been worse. At least I have a body. I feel sorry for the dudes who wake up inside navy vessels or bomber jets.”

“Just wait until they start putting Mind Refurbs into the AI cores of starships,” Eagleeye said. “That’ll be a game changer.”

“Yeah, that’d suck,” Manticore said.

“I actually was thinking I’d volunteer for something like that,” Eagleeye said. “I wouldn’t really mind it. I mean, come on, we’d be the perfect explorers. We don’t age. And we can speed up time, to make the passage between stars bearable. We’d get to explore distant nebulae, and strange planets.”

“And get blown up by angry alien races, like our current visiting friends,” Crusher said.

“If we didn’t go nuts from the isolation,” Hicks said.

“We wouldn’t be isolated,” Eagleeye said. “We’d have a rule that we had to bring along at least two or three other Mind Refurbs on the same ship. They could take different shifts and whatnot.”

“Yeah well blokes, we have to get our arses into space first,” Dunnigan said. “We’ve barely even explored our own solar system.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be achieving some breakthroughs in interstellar travel very soon,” Dickson said. “Assuming we can survive this invasion. I’m willing to bet Brontosaurus is riding the key.”

“The wormhole generator?” Slate said.

“The very same,” Dickson said. “If there’s one shortcut to interstellar travel, it’s wormholes.”

“It’s going to take us a wee bit of time to reverse engineer it,” Dunnigan said. “Just a wee bit.”

“Yeah, could be a while,” Dickson admitted.

“So how about you, Dickson, why’d you chop off your head?” Slate said.

“No reason,” Dickson said. “I was getting old. I thought if there was a chance I could be brought back at some later date, I might as well take it. It was covered by my military pension, so I figured, why not.”

“You mean the military funded your beheading?” Slate said.

“That’s right,” Dickson said. “That was back in the day when the military actually thought it could revive us. Of course, the contract stated that by agreeing to freeze our brains, we’d become army property indefinitely, and waive our rights. See, I wasn’t like most of you… you all had your heads frozen by different private companies. Me, the army did it.”

“I think I remember that program,” Mickey said. “It didn’t last very long, if I remember correctly.”

“The opt-in was only available for a few years,” Dickson said. “I died during that timeframe. And even though the program officially ended, we were army property, and they kept us on ice indefinitely.”

“You’d think they would have dipped exclusively into that well of frozen heads for their Mind Refurb program,” Frogger said. “Instead of purchasing the assets of all those outside cryo companies.”

“Apparently there was some problem with the military cryogenic chambers thawing out a century into cold storage,” Dickson said. “The monitor system failed, and they only found out when they opened up the chambers a hundred years later. They must have been wondering what that terrible smell was.”

“Typical army,” Brontosaurus said.

“What, you’re accusing the army of being incompetent at the best of times?” Dickson said.

“No way, I’d never do that,” Brontosaurus said. “Because we all know the army is only as competent as the technology running it. I’d be insulting the very AIs our mind cores are based on.”

“I’m sure those AI cores deserve whatever insults you throw their way,” Slate said.

“What about you Slate?” Dickson said. “Why’d you do it?”

“Chop off my head?” Slate said. “Oh no, my deal was the whole body. I was going all out or nothing. Human corpsicle, baby. You think I was going to give up my beautiful snake and the body it was connected to?”

“You could have told them to cut off your snake and freeze it alongside your head,” Bambi said. “That way you could have given yourself a blow job for all eternity.”

“Har dee har har,” Slate said. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if they’d cut off your cat and froze me with that…”

“So you never answered the question,” Dickson said.

“Oh, well, y’all have to know I became a famous rapper after my stint in the army,” Slate said. “We rappers, once we hit a certain fame and dollar amount, we become a little eccentric. We start putting gold rims on our teeth, and weighing our necks down with gold chains. Shit, I had a gold piercing in my dick, among other places. But as I was saying, we get a bit eccentric. In addition to a mansion, five exotic cars, and three Custom Mades—”

“Custom Mades?” Hicks said. “You ordered fembots?”

“Of course,” Slate said. “I had them designed after three super models I lusted after. They joined my harem, and—”

“You’re so full of shit,” Eagleeye said. “You were a famous rapper… my ass!”

“I was bro, believe it and weep,” Slate said.

“How come I never heard this before?” Eagleeye pressed. “You’re such a bullshitter… if you were a rapper, then I was a Saudi Prince!”

“That’s right, keep crying, bitch,” Slate said.

“Okay, well, previously you told us you had a different woman every week,” Eagleeye said. “So if you’re not lying, why would you need three fembots? Especially if you had a harem, as you say?”

“Yeah, the different women a week thing was in my youth,” Slate said. “After I became rich, I essentially had a different woman a day. I put some of my favs into the harem, but it was getting kind of expensive, not financially mind you, but emotionally, so I replaced them with robots. And things were smooth sailing from then on. Man, women can be a backstabbing bunch, especially when they’re going after the same man. Having fembots fixed all that. I got all the looks, minus the drama. So long story short, I purchased a spot in a cryo factory, and gave them instructions to freeze my body alongside my favorite Custom Made.”

Eagleeye burst out laughing. “You froze yourself with a fembot?”

“Why not,” Slate said. “I loved her.”

“You… you loved a fembot?” Eagleeye was roaring with laughter. “Man, and I thought I had problems.”

“Ah, shut up bitch, you don’t even know what love is,” Slate said.

“You can’t love a machine, bro,” Eagleeye said.

“Really?” Slate said. “Then by your logic, no one can ever love you.”

“But we’re not…” Eagleeye didn’t finish.

“That’s right, moron,” Slate said.

“I think it’s possible to love a machine,” Crusher said.

“As do I,” Bambi said. “Especially if that machine contains a human being.”

“There you go,” Slate said. “I rest my case. Love between man and machine is entirely possible.”

“A Mind Refurb is not a machine,” Eagleeye said.

“I’m not going to argue about it,” Slate said. “Let’s get back on topic here. Bambi. Why’d you do it?”

“My husband did it,” she said. “He made it sound good. So I agreed. We were to be frozen together.”

“So romantic,” Crusher said. “Not really. It’s almost as bad as Slate and his fembot.”

“I thought it was a romantic gesture…” Bambi said.

“That’s because you’re French,” Crusher said. “You think a bum giving you a flower picked from a city park is romantic.”

“You know nothing about the French,” Bambi said. “We created modern culture. If it wasn’t for the New Renaissance, we’d still be wearing the same clothes and eating the same food and living in the same buildings as a hundred years ago.”

“Tell that to the people of this country,” Eric said. “They’ve been locked in the nineteenth century for quite a long time.”

“Getting off topic…” Slate said. “Crusher, you? Brain freeze.”

“Brain freeze,” Frogger said. “That used to mean something different in my day.”

“Quit interrupting!” Slate said. “Crusher?”

“I won my cryofreeze spot in a competition,” Crusher said. “Back in the 2100s it was a fad to get yourself frozen after death. But expensive. Families would save for cryofreeze like they would for houses. Some people even got mortgages to pay for cryofreeze units.”

“Tell me about this competition you won…” Slate said.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Crusher said.

“I would I would,” Slate said.

Crusher sighed over the comm. “It was a doll making competition…”

“Doll making!” Eagleeye said, unable to hold back a guffaw. “The great Ball Crusher used to make dolls!”

“So?” Crusher said. “They were digital dolls, of course. I actually ran a small company that would sell them online, so that people could bring them into virtual reality with them. So when the cryocompany sponsored the competition, it was relatively easy for me to win. I just entered all of my unsold inventory. I must have had the most entries out of anyone.”

“Well, I learn something new about y’all each time we talk,” Slate said. “Though one of these days, mark my words, we’ll run out of things to talk about.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen,” Mickey said.

“So how about you, Sarge?” Slate said. “Why’d you do it?” When Marlborough didn’t answer, Slate repeated: “Sarge?”

“That’s enough,” Marlborough said. “Let’s have some quiet on the comm. I can’t hear myself think. You can chat when we stop to rest. For now, I want you alert and watching out for potential ambushes.”

“We’ve been alert,” Slate said. “I’ve kept my eye on the plains the whole time. But I’ll give you quiet, Sarge.”

“Thank you,” Marlborough said.

They marched on in silence. In truth, Eric hadn’t minded the talk, and he suspected Marlborough hadn’t either. It was essentially a bonding session, and like Slate said, they were all alert and concentrating on the mission despite the idle chatter, thanks to their multi-cyclic minds. But while Marlborough might have enjoyed the conversation, that enjoyment only lasted for as long as he remained out of the spotlight. As soon as Slate attempted to bring him in, it was time to end the conversation: Marlborough was a private man.

The sun set and day became night. The Bolt Eaters continued on into the dark, switching to night vision. The landscape became green and black around Eric. They could have used LIDAR, but Marlborough didn’t want to broadcast their location overly much. The robots were designed with a reduced thermal footprint in mind—the generated heat was transferred downward and vented via the foot region, which in theory meant that if they could walk in hollows or rocky areas that obscured their feet, they could keep a relatively low profile. But because they were traveling at their top speed, the heat dispersion systems struggled to transfer the heat, and the knees and thighs were just as bright on the thermal band as the feet. The greatest heat leakage came from the mechs, of course, which was why Marlborough had ordered Eric and the two mechs to travel well ahead of the main group.

The Bolt Eaters had no plans to stop, and intended to continue on throughout the night, and the next day after. While Eric disliked abandoning the humans as much as Bambi, he couldn’t deny that not having to rest was a big plus.

Most of their power cells were at least half full, since the Cicadas had used their Bullet Time sparingly since abandoning the tanks. Eric’s Ravager power cell was sitting at seventy five percent, and the other mechs had similar levels, so they could share power with the smaller robots if anyone ever dropped below twenty.

Those were the thoughts on his mind when, around midnight, the team spotted a red glow up ahead on the thermal band. It came from a spot nestled within the mountains.

14

Eric zoomed in on the area. At the end of a small valley, he saw a horizontal area of bright green, with different greenish blurs moving to and fro in front of it.

“Drop, Bolt Eaters,” Marlborough ordered.

Everyone took cover, using whatever was available. Eric ducked behind a shallow depression next to a boulder, then he zoomed in on the site again.

“What is that?” Manticore said.

“According to the latest map data, an old iron mine,” Marlborough said. “It was shut down a good fifty years ago, but apparently the aliens, or someone, has decided to take up residence.”

“It would be a great place to put some 3D printers to work,” Frogger said. “If you were looking to build a few military units.”

“It’s gotta be Bokerov,” Eagleeye said.

“Ah, if it’s that bitch Bokerov, promise me we’re going to stick it to him, Sarge,” Slate said.

“The question is, why didn’t those termites find this place and suck it dry?” Tread said.

“My guess is the entrance was closed off,” Manticore said. “The map data indicates as much. There was an avalanche in the region some years back, which is partially why the mine was closed in the first place. It just wasn’t worth the money to dig out.”

“That would jibe with what we’ve seen,” Mickey said. “The termites, at least this first wave, seem to concentrate on easily accessible metal content. Later on, once they’ve obliterated all life on the planet, the aliens will probably commit to a far more thorough mining of metals.”

“Bambi, I want two scouts up there,” Marlborough ordered.

“You got it,” Bambi said.

She sent two Savages forward. The robots kept low, and when they were within a kilometer of the mountains, they switched to a low crawl. They oriented their antennae backwards, toward the hiding place of the platoon, and switched to directional transmission mode, so that whoever occupied the iron mine wouldn’t pick up their signal.

The robots clambered up the shoulder of the mountain, and partially up a cliff, so they could remain in line of sight with the platoon—and thus keep within comm range as well—and peered down into the area in front of the mine below.

There were no lights illuminating anything below, but Eric saw all he needed thanks to the ambient light from the stars and moon, and the thermal signatures of the objects in the valley.

Armored carriers conveyed raw ore between the mine entrance and what looked like a smelter, judging from the thermal levels. Smaller vehicles conveyed processed bars of metal to several nearby industrial-grade 3D printers. Some of those printers were creating other vehicles—tanks, carriers, aerial drones—but the rest were concentrating on a larger object. It looked like a transport of some kind. Essentially a giant quadcopter. Four large rotors were connected to a submarine-shaped body. From the way the arms of those rotors were attached to the sides, with long horizontal channels surrounding the connection points, he had the impression those arms could tilt back and forth during flight, so that the submarine body remained completely level.

Beyond the printers, Eric spotted different tanks on patrol. The shape and thermal signatures matched up with Russian models he had in his inventory.

“That’s definitely Bokerov,” Brontosaurus said.

“Bitch has decided to take up residence in an old iron mine,” Slate said.

“He’s got defense platforms ringing the whole perimeter,” Eagleeye said. “With autonomous laser tracking turrets targeting every approach.”

“We already know Bokerov has broken himself and his units free of their Containment Code,” Tread said. “He opened fire on us first previously…”

“I’m not so sure he broke himself free,” Manticore said. “The Russians might have programmed in looser rules of engagement.”

“I disagree, I think he has broken himself free,” Tread said. “It would explain why he’s so nuts. And we thought we were the only ones having trouble controlling our emotions…”

“Either way,” Dickson said. “If we approach those units, they’re going to fire.”

“The defense platforms on the perimeter are all fairly tall,” Eagleeye said. “I have a feeling he detected our approach a while ago. Especially considering how much heat we were giving off while on the run.”

“But why hasn’t he acted on it?” Traps said.

“He’s not sure what we are, yet,” Marlborough said. “Our thermals would have been off the wall. With the amount of heat we were giving off, he wouldn’t have been able to get a proper ID.”

“Maybe he ID’d the scouts?” Hicks said.

“Unlikely,” Marlborough said. “Considering that they kept a low profile the whole way, going flat the final distance. They would have cooled off enough by now that they’re not visible on the thermal band, especially given how they’ve arranged themselves behind that rock, with their lower bodies hidden from view.”

“I’m detecting the launch of several airborne drones,” Eagleeye said. “Harbinger equivalents.”

“Well, if Bokerov didn’t know where our scouts were, he soon will,” Dickson said. “Bolt Eaters, target those Harbingers.”

“We’re not going to try communications?” Mickey said.

“You saw where that got us the last time,” Marlborough said. “We fire first, and ask questions later.”

Eric scanned the sky, and spotted one of the drones Eagleeye had detected. He aimed the targeting crosshairs of his ZX-15 at it, but before he could squeeze the trigger, the drone went down.

Eric examined his overhead map, and saw the other five drones that had been detected. He saw the red dots become slightly brighter, indicating that other members of the team were targeting them. He chose the furthest, figuring it would be the worst shot, and aimed his ZX-15 at it. The Harbinger in question began zigging and zagging as evasive maneuvers were issued across the entire unit. Before he could fire, the vehicle had descended from view.

“We only got three of them,” Eagleeye said. “The remaining three landed.”

“Bokerov decided to get smart,” Brontosaurus commented.

“Oh he’s smart all right,” Marlborough said. “Don’t underestimate him.”

“He still probably doesn’t know what we are,” Crusher said. “He’s acting with an abundance of caution. He could very easily send his tanks out and wipe us out, but he’s running scared.”

“No doubt he’s faced a few problems with bioweapons and termites in the last few days,” Eagleeye commented.

“Much like ourselves,” Manticore said.

“So what do we do now, blokes?” Dunnigan said. “Retreat, and give this area a wide berth while we can? Before he finds out we’re just a bunch of Cicadas and one Hopper? No threat to him at all?”

“We can’t,” Marlborough said. “He’s offered us a solution to our problems. Did you all see what he was building with the main 3D printers?”

“A transport…” Frogger said.

“He’s looking for a way to return his troops to the Motherland,” Bambi said. “Or to get them out of here, at the very least. A transport like that could easily hold our entire party.”

“That’s right,” Marlborough said. “And my Accomp informs me that the top speed on a design like this is Mach 5. If we can get our hands on that transport, and the 3D printers, we can finish the craft and use it to enact our plan.”

“We’ll have to completely wipe out Bokerov,” Frogger said.

“We will,” Marlborough agreed. “Even if we destroy whatever tank is harboring him, the units will no doubt switch to autonomous mode, and continue to fire at everything that moves. We’ll have to eliminate every last one of them.”

“What about hacking?” Eric said. They all had hacking routines embedded into their AI cores.

“That will require mounting a tank and ripping off the processor panel to interface,” Marlborough said. “Something we can’t really do, not while there are so many other tanks around… they’ll simply reorient and have one of their friends shoot you off.”

“So hacking is only on the table until there’s just one tank left,” Frogger said.

“You’d have to eliminate the defense platforms surrounding the perimeter, too,” Traps said. “Plus get close to the tank, first. I’d say hacking is off the table.”

“Probably right,” Frogger said.

“So even if we can finish that transport, it’s going to need power cells,” Brontosaurus said. “And I somehow doubt an iron mine will provide the lithium we’ll need to 3D print our own.”

“We’ll take the power cells from the downed Russian tanks,” Marlborough said. “And repurpose them for the transport. We can jury-rig an interface with help from the 3D printers.”

“So we wipe out Bokerov, steal his transport, and save the world,” Slate said. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

“I’m detecting two Russian tanks coming out of the valley,” Eagleeye said. “Molotovs.”

“There are also four Bulava scouts,” Mickey said. “Leading the way.”

Eric zoomed in on the valley entrance, and saw the four smaller humanoid units spreading out. They advanced at a run, no doubt intending to close with the hidden platoon to get a positive ID.

“Take those Bulavas out,” Marlborough said.

“Permission to use the alien energy weapon?” Eric asked.

“Negative,” Marlborough said. “I don’t want Bokerov to know we have that weapon, nor the wormhole, not yet. When he grows more comfortable and commits more troops, we’ll surprise him. But until then, lasers only…”

Eric and the others opened fire. Lasers only, as requested.

“Bulavas are down,” Eagleeye announced.

“The Molotovs are launching shells!” Mickey said.

“Scatter!” Marlborough said. “Stay low. Don’t let them get an ID!”

Eric got up and retreated; he commanded the mechs to move with him. The party abandoned the location as explosions detonated.

“We’re taking laser fire!” Eagleeye said.

They took cover behind a series of rocks further back.

“Lost another Savage,” Traps said.

“Those tanks were firing at us,” Tread said. “Along with the laser platforms.”

Eric checked the damage report from his mechs. “I got some fresh bore holes in my Ravagers. The armor held up.”

Eric heard the high-pitched sound of incoming shells.

“Reposition again!” Marlborough said. “And take out those tanks!”

Eric arose once more, and while on the run he aimed his crosshairs at the tanks.

Eric switched to Bullet Time. “Sync your weapons with my ZX-15.”

The others would automatically match his heightened time sense as soon as the Accomps analyzed the timebase of his communications; in moments the weapon sync stats on his HUD turned green.

He had complete specs of all Russian designs in his inventory, so he knew precisely where the AI core was. The problem was, he was having difficulty picking out the location with night vision alone. He decided to send out a LIDAR burst.

There. Now he had a better picture of the tank.

He aligned his crosshairs over the region containing the AI core. It was heavily armored, but by combining lasers across the platoon, Cicadas, Ravagers, and the support troops, he could take it out.

He was well aware that Bokerov would have the ability to do the same to the Bolt Eaters as soon as the Russian made a positive ID on their units.

He fired.

15

Eric scored a direct hit.

Staying in Bullet Time, he aligned his weapon over the second tank, and used the updated LIDAR imaging to get a fix on the AI core. Because of his angle, the region was slightly more armored, at least to his ZX-15. He could release another pulse within a hundred milliseconds, but he waited the five hundred milliseconds recovery time needed by the slower rifles the Cicadas carried. Then he fired.

He dove as the shells came in, and explosions ripped the ground behind him.

He returned Bullet Time to normal.

“Lost a Breacher unit this time,” Traps said. “And my right side is littered in shrapnel.”

“I got shrapnel chewing up my back,” Brontosaurus said. “But otherwise, I’m no worse for the wear.”

Eric glanced at his HUD, and confirmed the health of the rest of the platoon: all green.

“Both tanks are down,” Mickey said. “Their thermals are growing dark.”

“Okay, reposition,” Marlborough said. “We don’t need them lobbing shells over the walls of the valley, and targeting our last known position as transmitted by those Molotovs.”

The platoon retreated once again, taking cover further up the shoulder of the mountain, in an area containing a bunch of rocky outcrops.

Eric surveyed the entrance to the valley, waiting for more tanks to appear.

“Bokerov is displaying an abundance of caution and refusing to commit,” Marlborough said. “Smart move.”

“Did you notice how those tanks were zigzagging as they approached?” Dickson said. “I’m willing to bet that Bokerov surrounded the entrance to the valley with mines. If we want to stage any sort of assault, we’re going to have to come in from the surrounding cliffs, I think.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Marlborough said.

Eric listened intently.

When Marlborough finished, he said: “It’s not going to be easy. And we might very well lose. But we need that transport. I’m not willing to waste another two days traveling to Iran, hoping that we’ll find a better opportunity along the way. Because the fact of the matter is, we’re not going to get a better opportunity than this. Assume your positions…”

Eric gave control of Massacre over to Tread. The armor operator reluctantly accepted, as Marlborough had given the order—Sarge didn’t want to risk the escape of the termite contained by the parallel plates on the back of the mech. Not only was allowing it to escape dangerous, but if the termite broke free then the team would need to capture another if they were going to attempt their eventual world-saving plan.

Eric moved south with Slaughter, away from the mountain range. Brontosaurus had dismounted the latter mech, and remained behind with the others. Bambi, however, was with Eric, and she had along three combat robots: two Savages and a Breacher. They formed Team C. The two scouts Bambi had sent earlier were still in place, and they were Team B. The rest of the platoon, still in place beside the valley, were Team A.

Marlborough had prohibited Eric from launching the wormhole weapon near the base, since the Sarge didn’t want to risk any damage befalling the transport. But if he could lure any enemies outside…

Staying low, Eric moved at a quick trot, along with the rest of Team C. No doubt the seven of them were visible to the defense platforms along the outer perimeter, which was why he had his ballistic shield deployed and directed toward the base. The others were deployed behind him, hidden from the base by his body, and the shield. That shield would mask their thermal signatures—the heat would be visible only beyond the edges, preventing Bokerov from making a positive ID. He might still decide to fire anyway, of course.

Flashes of light from the direction of the mine told him that Teams A and B had targeted the different defense platforms lining the perimeter. There were a few others that were only visible within his line of sight, and he lifted his ZX-15 over the shield, and targeted them in turn. Two of the platforms returned fire, their laser pulses chewing into his ballistic shield, but he took them down.

Bokerov still didn’t commit any troops, and remained holed up in the base.

“Damn it, he’s really playing it smart today, isn’t he?” Bambi said.

“Wouldn’t you if you didn’t know the capabilities of whoever was attacking you?” Eric said.

Finally five green blurs appeared at the entrance to the valley.

“Okay, we got ourselves some targets,” Eric said. “Dig in.” He dove to the ground and waited for the characteristic whine of shells to fill the air. It didn’t come. He resided in a small hollow, and the crest beside him reached to his mech-sized hips. He slammed his shield down onto the top of the crest, tilting it at an angle above him as he ducked low.

“We’re being targeted with laser designators,” Bambi said.

“Sarge, permission to open fire with the energy weapon,” Eric said.

“That’s a negative,” Marlborough said. “Continue with the plan.”

“All right, you heard the man,” Eric said. “Start digging.”

Eric was positioned between the attackers and the other five units; as laser attacks struck his shield in random areas, the others dug frenetically into the ground behind him.

Each laser attack formed a complete borehole through his shield because the five tanks were combining their turrets on the same target—the same strategy he had used upon them.

Eric crouched lower and lower underneath the shield.

“Sarge, you’re going to take out those tanks soon, right?” Eric said. “They’re turning my shield into mouse cheese.”

“We already got one of them,” Marlborough said.

Eric glanced at his overhead map: sure enough one of the five red dots had become black.

“The hell is mouse cheese?” Slate asked.

“Never mind,” Eric said.

“You twentieth-centuriers,” Slate said. “Mouse cheese.”

Eric glanced at Bambi. “How are we doing?”

“It’s always fun being the sappers,” Bambi said as she dug away.

“We’re not really sappers,” Eric said. “We’re only doing this to protect ourselves.”

“And so we are,” Bambi said.

Teams B and C eliminated the five tanks at the entrance, and about four minutes later Slaughter and the other units had formed a small trench. But it wasn’t the trench that was important, but the pile of rocks and debris beside it. Eric inserted the spare power cells that the team had gathered up and given to him before they split up. He placed them in such a way that the thermal emissions would match up with Russian Bulavas, at least when viewed from beyond fifty meters. Closer than that, the decoys probably wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny.

Eric and the others retreated once more, continuing to move in single file, with Eric on drag and providing protection to the others with his shield.

They reached another spot five hundred meters away, and once more dug in. Meanwhile, Teams A and B pulled back, taking cover in various hides upon the shoulder of the mountain.

The Breacher moved between the different robots of Team C, and shoved the rocks back into the holes each mech and robot had dug. Eric was lying flat, and he was buried almost completely, so that only his eye cameras were exposed. He shut off all external lights, including the blue glow that emerged from his mech’s eye dots. The others did the same.

When the Breacher finished with the last of them, the robot lay flat behind a small pile of rocks and shut down.

Eric waited ten minutes until he was sure the Breacher had stopped emitting thermal energy, then he activated the transmitter he had hidden within the power cells. It was a recording of a Russian distress signal, and the device was set to transmit three hundred and sixty degrees.

“You think he’ll fall for it?” Bambi said over the comm.

“Bokorov will be curious at the very least,” Eric said. “He’ll wonder why the Bulavas aren’t communicating on the standard encrypted comm band. He’ll definitely send some units.”

Eric picked up the distress signal and listened to the translation.

“If you’re reading us, this is the final transmission of the forty-seventh,” the voice said in Russian. “There has been some sort of alien invasion. We’ve been attacked, multiple times, by micro machines, and what appear to be bioweapons. We’ve been trying to return to the Motherland to search for survivors. But we’ve been held up near the mountains, next to an old iron mine. We thought at first we had found our comrades, but the units failed to respond to our communications, and instead sent airborne units to attack us. We eliminated the units, and destroyed the tanks they followed up with. But the enemy has us pinned. We believe these units are under control of the aliens. They will very likely destroy us. To any nearby: heed this warning, and avoid these coordinates. I repeat, avoid these coordinates.”

“Tanks are showing up at the valley entrance,” Marlborough said. Team A had oriented their antennae toward Team C, so they could continue to communicate via directional transmission mode, while avoiding detection. Eric and Team C had similarly oriented their antennae. He could still communicate with the rest of the team, because he kept one antenna facing backwards, and running in non-directional mode.

Shells promptly rained down on the site Eric and the others had prepared, destroying the hidden power cells and the transmitter.

“Well, guess he didn’t fall for it,” Bambi said.

“Wait,” Eric said.

He glanced at his overhead map, which was still receiving data from Teams A and B. A red dot appeared, marked as a Harbinger equivalent. It emerged from the valley and moved back and forth across the sky, searching for them. It hovered low over the blast site, no doubt making extensive scans. Then it spiraled outward, searching for anyone else. It passed right over Eric and his team, but they were buried, along with their thermal signatures.

The Harbinger turned around and retreated, and then made a run over the hills and outcrops next to the valley where Teams A and B were hiding. It crossed the valley opening, and then searched the other side, before returning to the mine. It hovered above the valley, continuing to scan the area.

Several moments passed, and no other signs of activity came from the valley, except of course for the Harbinger that remained in place above the entrance. Bokerov was only willing to risk the one, which was probably a good idea at least on his part.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Slate commented.

“Wait,” Marlborough said.

Five more tanks had appeared at the entrance. They moved outward in five different directions, and occasionally paused at set intervals along the way.

“Minelayers,” Eagleeye said. “Apparently Bokerov isn’t too happy with the existing minefield he has, and wants to expand it a ways.”

“Should we take out those tanks?” Eric asked.

“Negative,” Marlborough said. “Let Bokerov grow comfortable.”

One of those tanks is headed straight for the line between our directional comms,” Mickey said. “I’d recommend shutting down communications with Teams B and C for the time being.”

“Terminate communications, Team C,” Marlborough said.

“Roger that,” Eric said. “Going dark.”

He reduced the range of his directional antennae and swiveled his eye cameras so he had a bead on the tanks. He watched the start-stop of the different tanks for several minutes, until he realized that one of them was coming straight for his position.

16

Eric watched the tank slowly approach. It was possible, maybe even likely, that the tank would detect him. However, if it placed a mine above him, he’d have a little trouble extricating himself.

He directed his cameras toward the valley, and saw more tanks at the entrance. They were also expanding outward, moving between the paths of the previous minelayers. No doubt laying mines themselves.

Eric waited until the tank was nearly on top of him, and then he switched to Bullet Time. He shoved his body out of the rock that buried him, just enough to expose his energy cannon, and then he fired, allowing it to charge for only a half second.

The weapon slammed into the front hull, sending out a shockwave that was reflected by much of the ground around Eric. He’d retracted his cameras to avoid damage, and redeployed them now.

The impact had eaten away the entire front quarter of the tank. Because of the timing, and the nature of the attack, Bokerov would have no idea what hit him.

As expected, the remaining tanks froze.

“Bokerov’s going to be thinking we mined the entire entrance to the valley right under his nose,” Bambi said. “You know what that means, right?”

“Yup,” Eric said.

On cue, the sound of shelling filled the air. Bokerov would be unloading most of his arsenal in an effort to detonate any mines, targeting the spaces between his minelayers, and avoiding those spots where the layers had previously placed the bombs.

Some of those shells would be targeting Eric’s position.

It was time to act.

Eric commanded Slaughter to rise. The Ravager lifted from the surface, and aimed the wormhole weapon a hundred meters away, in the center of the tanks.

Eric fired the weapon a little above the ground.

The bolt erupted outward, and before the shells could hit, the tear in spacetime formed.

A crater formed underneath the wormhole as the earth was sucked away. The shells plunged into the rip in reality, detonating as they did so, their flashes lighting up the night sky. The tanks were also drawn backward—they all drove their shovels into the ground, halting themselves. That’s right—tanks had shovels. They used them to dig holes in the ground, so they could create hull-down positions over relatively flat terrain.

But the crater slowly enlarged as the edges were sucked away, and one by one the tanks were lost as the ground underneath them vanished. The wormhole flashed as more shells from the tanks in the valley arrived. The rip in reality sucked the next wave up. A Harbinger was among that wave.

Eventually, the crater stopped enlarging, leaving four tanks on the outskirts. Eric aimed his energy launcher at their shovels in turn, and fired four times. In moments the tanks were gone.

He fired the dispersion bolt from the wormhole weapon on Slaughter’s back, and a second later the wormhole receded.

Flashes appeared in rapid succession inside the valley.

Eric couldn’t help but smile. Teams A and B were doing their part.

He truly loved it when a plan came together.

“All right, Team C, get ready to move up!” Eric said.

* * *

The Eric known as Frogger low-crawled toward the edge of the valley, along with the rest of the team. The Harbinger equivalent remained hovering above the valley entrance; meanwhile, the five minelayers moved outward across the plain, pausing at intervals to lay their bombs.

Eric took his place and aimed down into the valley below. Team A had moved higher up the mountain than the scouts of Team B, and from there were able to get beads on the remaining defense platforms that surrounded the perimeter.

“Link up with Massacre,” Marlborough said.

Each of the Bolt Eaters in Team B synced their laser fire with the mech named Massacre, so when the Ravager fired, all lasers across the team would target the same point.

Eric watched his muzzle subtly bend to match the aim of the big mech. Massacre didn’t fire, of course. They were awaiting the signal from Scorpion before they attacked.

Ah, Scorp. Don’t ever think I’ll get used to the fact that you’re me.

“He’s not you,” Betty replied inside his head. “Your personalities are subtly different. For example he keeps his Accomp shut down for the most part. Unlike what you do with me.”

Not everyone likes to have conversations inside of their heads, Frogger told Betty.

“But you do.”

Of course. I’d be lost without your bitching…

Scorp’s signal wouldn’t be one that came over the comm band, as the Bolt Eaters of Teams A and B had ceased all communications with Team C. No, the signal would be a more overt one.

An explosion momentarily drew his attention to the south. Molotovs within the valley erupted, sending a barrage of countless shells into the air. Their trajectories indicated random targets on the ground outside the valley, between the tanks.

“Ha!” Slate said. “Bitch thinks we’ve laid a shitload of mines!”

“There’s our signal,” Marlborough said. “Open fire.”

Eric and the others promptly shot out the remaining defense platforms, concentrating their fire on each platform in turn. Then they turned their weapons skyward, and took down the Harbinger that still hovered above the valley.

Eric felt the wind pick up as a wormhole opened on the plains below, but because of their distance, he and the others didn’t have to dig in—the pull wasn’t that strong, at least not yet. The robots inside the valley below were similarly unaffected, and the 3D printers continued to work on the transport.

Actually, unaffected wasn’t the right word. Bokerov had directed several of the tanks to flee toward that horizontal swath of green light that formed the entrance to the main mine in the mountain. The remainder accelerated forward, along with several smaller support robots, including Bulavas and mechs, and formed a V-shaped defense at the valley entrance. They dug in as the pull from the wormhole began to exert itself. Molotovs rammed shovels into the ground, combat robots and mechs punched their feet through the surface.

Massacre fired at those tanks that retreated toward the cave entrance, still concentrating the team’s fire. Bokerov would likely be among one of them.

They were only able to take down three of the tanks before the rest had vanished inside.

The wormhole promptly vanished—Eric knew because the wind ceased.

Tread had Massacre aim at the vanguard near the front of the valley instead, and began taking out the mechs and tanks.

The two remaining Russian Harbingers took to the sky, but Massacre promptly felled them.

“Bitch is panicking,” Slate said. “He knows we have him.”

“You’d panic too if you faced a weapon you’d never encountered before,” Eagleeye said.

“Actually, I wouldn’t,” Slate said. “I remained calm, if you’ll recall, when we first discovered these weapons.”

Some of the tanks spun their turrets around, no doubt intending to unleash hell upon the areas where Teams B and C were hiding, when a bright flash erupted amid the units below.

Scorpion was unleashing the energy weapon.

Three tanks fell in rapid succession. Mechs ran forward, as Bokerov had no doubt determined that Scorpion was the greater threat at the moment. The remaining tanks also swung their turrets back toward the forefront of the valley; meanwhile, the smaller Bulavas kept their laser rifles aimed at the edge, and were firing at Teams B and C, trying to keep them pinned.

Bright flashes continued to come from the valley as the energy weapon relentlessly took down the vanguard.

“Switch to individual firing mode!” Marlborough said. “Take out the smaller robots!”

Eric’s gun released from sync mode, and he began to aim at the smaller robots that were hiding between the tanks below. He took down three in rapid succession. A tank beside one of the robots melted away as the energy bolt struck it, and the shockwave sent the Bulava flying away before Eric could fire.

There you go stealing kills from me again Scorpion.

“It’s not stealing if it benefits the whole team,” Betty said.

Hey, we talked about this, Eric thought. You’re supposed to remain quiet when the shooting starts.

“Sorry.”

“The smaller robots are down!” Marlborough said. “Sync up with Massacre again. It’s time to get rid of the rest of their tanks.”

Eric synced with Massacre, and the Ravager began to unleash hell upon the remaining units below. By then, Scorpion had shot out about half of the forty tanks, so only twenty were left. However, they must have pinned him and his team with their laser turrets, because Scorpion had stopped firing his energy launcher.

Well that was fine, because with all their turrets pointed forward like that, it meant Massacre could pick off the others with ease.

Some of the tanks below began to divert their aim upward again, but once again beams of energy began to strike them.

That was enough to break the tide, and with the combined attacks from Team C below, and Teams A and B above, in moments no enemy tanks or mechs were left standing.

The industrial grade 3D printers continued to work, receiving a stream of fresh ore from the smelter.

“I’m getting a transmission from Bokerov,” Mickey said.

“Connect me,” Marlborough said.

“Surrender, or I’ll destroy the transport,” Bokerov sent in Russian.

“Damn,” Eagleeye said over the private line. “Are we that obvious?”

“You think he’s bluffing?” Manticore said.

A shell erupted from inside the cave entrance that harbored the main mine, and it struck the side of the under-construction transport, breaking off a small section.

“Apparently not…” Brontosaurus said.

“Surrender, or I destroy the transport,” Bokerov repeated. “I know you want it.”

“What are the terms of your surrender?” Marlborough asked, his linguistic processor translating his words into Russian.

“My surrender?” Bokerov said. “You mean your surrender.”

“Fine, ours,” Marlborough said.

“I will give your team the transport,” Bokerov said. “When it is finished, I will recall the printers into the mine and seal blast doors. Your team may retrieve the vessel. When you are gone, I will create another for myself. See, I am a reasonable man. Benevolent, even.”

“And what do you want in exchange for this ‘benevolence?’” Marlborough asked.

“The alien weapon, of course,” Bokerov said. “And you. You will stay behind, Sergeant First Class.”

“You can’t agree to that,” Crusher said. “He’ll torture you. Kill you.”

“Most likely,” Marlborough said over the private line. Then over the public channel: “Unacceptable. We have no reason to give up any of the alien technology. Go ahead, destroy the transport, we’ll just print another after we drive you out of the cave and destroy you.”

Two more shells erupted from the wide tunnel: one bomb broke off another section of the transport, while the second destroyed a 3D printer.

“All right,” Marlborough said. “Stop.”

“You agree?” Bokerov said. “Like I told you, it is a reasonable offer… I spare your entire team in exchange for you, and a small bit of technology, and I give you a transport.”

“Yes,” Marlborough said. “We agree to these terms.”

“Good,” Bokerov said. “I will await your arrival. You have two minutes, or I will completely destroy the transport, and all the 3D printers below.”

Marlborough disconnected.

“Let me assume your identity, Sarge,” Brontosaurus said. It was easy enough for different members of the team to impersonate each other—it was just a matter of changing their public profiles. The Russian certainly wouldn’t know the difference.

“No,” Marlborough said. “I don’t want any of you to do this.”

“But you can’t go alone,” Bambi said.

“I won’t go alone,” Marlborough said. “Bokerov wants the energy cannon. Scorpion, you’ll join me.”

17

The Eric known as Scorpion stood near the entrance of the valley. He leaned past the edge, sweeping his gaze across the far opening to the main mine. He zoomed in, the crosshairs from the energy launcher passing over the bright green blur of that main cavern. He detected digger units, and armored carriers hauling container beds. The latter were idling inside, waiting to strike. There were also deeper tunnels whose entrances were illuminated with lights, no doubt placed to make the mining easier. Bokerov and his collection of personal guard Molotovs would be inside one of those caves.

Eric approached, hugging the valley wall. He used the wreckage of the tanks for cover, keeping them between him and the entrance at all times. Meanwhile, on the overhead map, the blue dot representing Marlborough was climbing down.

Eric reached the edge of the cover, and moved inward instead, ducking behind one of the destroyed tanks. He peered over the edge and switched to the visual band; the light from the caves silhouetted various defense platforms that were situated some distance inside the opening. He realized there were smelters inside the cave—those were responsible for the remaining illumination, thanks to the molten metal they produced. There were also more 3D printers.

Eric oriented his antennae toward Marlborough and emitted a directional signal.

“He’s got more printers inside,” Eric said. “It looks like they’re building more 3D printers.”

“Of course he does,” Marlborough said. “That’s why he was able to scale up so fast. He’s got a bunch of printers dedicated to duplicating themselves…”

“Also, I think I’ve spotted the platforms he’s been using to fire at the transport and the outside 3D printers,” Eric said.

“Do you see any of the armored carriers he’s been using to transport ore in and out of the main mine?” Marlborough asked.

“I do,” Eric said. “They’re armed with laser turrets. They could be used to attack the transport, too.”

“You’ll have to take them all down,” Marlborough said. “Wait for my signal. Don’t show yourself. I have a feeling they’ll fire on sight.”

“Won’t they do the same when you show up?” Eric asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Marlborough said. “But that’s what I’m counting on.”

Marlborough slowly made his way toward the bottom of the valley, carefully scaling the rocky wall with the arms and legs of his Cicada. He moved with his head facing downward, crawling like some deadly spider.

Keeping hidden behind the destroyed tank, Eric zoomed in on one of the defense platforms; he deemed those latter units to be the most dangerous, and planned to concentrate on them first. He prepared to fire his energy cannon.

Marlborough reached the bottom of the valley and stepped into view of the main cave.

The defense platforms promptly opened fire, riddling his body with laser bore holes.

Except it wasn’t Marlborough. He’d switched profiles with one of the Savages above.

Eric took advantage of the distraction. He opened fire with the energy cannon in rapid succession. In moments, all five defense turrets inside the cave were reduced to smoldering piles of rubble. He ducked as the armored carriers turned their attention on his location. Lasers riddled the exterior of the wreckage he had hidden behind.

“Get ready for a distraction,” Marlborough said.

Dunnigan jetted down, putting to good use the jetpack built into his Hopper unit.

“Now!” Dunnigan said.

Eric lifted his shoulder and the energy cannon it contained over the edge of the tank once again, and this time he targeted the armored carriers. They were all trying to track Dunnigan, who, living up to his model name, was hopping about, frantically jetting to and fro.

Eric concentrated on the turrets of the carriers as much as possible, because he wanted to damage the rest of the units as little as possible: the Bolt Eaters would need those carriers to convey ore to the smelter next to the transport if they wanted to finish it.

He took out the carriers in turn. Slaughter had dashed forward by then as well, and was targeting the carriers with his ZX-15, and together they eliminated the remaining turrets.

“All right, carriers are still intact,” Eric said. “But that means Bokerov will still be able to watch our approach.”

“That’s fine,” Marlborough said. “We need those carriers if we want to finish the transport. Bambi, send down the two scouts. I want to know where Bokerov is hiding. Use a Vision Round if possible: don’t expose the scouts unless you have to.”

“You got it,” Bambi said.

The scouts climbed down and split up. They entered the main cavern of the mine, and then approached different tunnels that led deeper.

The first scout was destroyed a few moments after it entered the second tunnel.

“Shit,” Bambi said. “I didn’t have time to launch a Vision Round.”

“It’s fine,” Marlborough said. “Eric, did you see that?”

“I did,” Eric said. “I’m moving into position.”

Eric left cover and moved closer to the main cave. He paused when he had the second tunnel well in view. He couldn’t see any targets inside, but that was because the tunnel curved inward shortly. The dead Savage would be lying on the floor at the start of that bend.

Eric aimed the energy launcher at the ceiling of that tunnel, and fired rapidly. Portions of the roof were eaten away, and the resultant shockwaves weakened the surrounding rock. In moments, the entire second tunnel came collapsing down.

“Well, that should hold him for a little while,” Eagleeye said.

“Assuming the other tunnels don’t join up at some central pit,” Eric said.

Bambi sent more scouts inside, and confirmed that the tunnels were indeed connected to a main mining pit; the second tunnel did as well, apparently, because Bambi’s scout fired a Vision Round toward the pit; the instant it passed inside, it was shot down.

“So, looks like we have Bokerov pinned in the pit,” Marlborough said.

“Why don’t we just collapse all the tunnels and trap him inside?” Slate said.

“Do we have enough raw ore?” Marlborough asked Dickson.

The staff sergeant moved among the different smelters, those within the mine and without, taking an inventory.

“I’m going to err on the side of caution,” Dickson said. “And say we don’t. I’d recommend against collapsing the tunnels.”

“Then we have to deal with Bokerov,” Marlborough said. “Bambi, did your vision round get an image of the pit before going offline?”

“It did,” Bambi said. “I got four Molotovs, and a tank design I’ve never seen before. It’s bigger than all the others.”

“That has to be Bokerov,” Dickson said.

“I agree,” Marlborough said. “I need options, Bolt Eaters. What have you got?”

“We storm the pit,” Slate said. “Take him down in a blaze of glory.”

“I’m not sure storming the pit is such a good idea,” Manticore said.

“Yeah, I knew you’d poo-poo my idea, Manure,” Slate said.

“I think we already agreed that Bokerov has more computing cycles per second than we do—he has to, in order to control all the different machines at his disposal,” Manticore continued. “He’ll be able to think so many more moves ahead than we can. We go in there, he’ll target us all with his laser cannons, shooting us down one by one. Sure, we might score some good hits in return, but chances are his armor’s so well shielded that even if we combine our shots we won’t penetrate. He’s been acting cautious so far, gauging our abilities, but now that we’ve backed him into a corner, he’ll strike back with all he has. I’m sure of it. It’s what we would do.”

“My energy cannon could probably penetrate,” Eric said. “Or we could always create a wormhole in there, firing it right at his tank, and then firing the dispersion bolt immediately after, before too much of the pit is destroyed.”

“You stick your head in there to fire the cannon, he’s likely to get off a shot before or at the same time you do,” Dickson said. “As Manticore mentioned, he’ll be operating at his highest time sensitivity, now that we’ve backed him into a corner. He’ll fire at anything that shows up.”

“Unless we can stage a diversion of some kind,” Eric said.

“What do you have in mind?” Marlborough asked.

Eric laid out his plan.

“It’s not bad,” Marlborough said. “I’m inclined to approve it. Unless anyone else has something better.”

“We’ll lose access to some of the ore with that plan,” Hicks said.

“Dickson?” Marlborough asked.

“The reduction shouldn’t affect our plans,” Dickson replied. “I’ve reviewed the imagery returned from the central pit by the vision round before it went down. There is more than enough ore there for our purposes, once we’ve eliminated Bokerov.”

“So no one has any other ideas?” Marlborough repeated.

“We could set up some guards to watch all the tunnels,” Brontosaurus said. “And as soon as Bokerov or one of his tanks show up, we blast ’em back into the pit.”

“But what’s to stop him from making a concerted push,” Crusher said. “He could come up one tunnel in force, firing everything he has. There’s a good chance he’d break through. And once he did that, he’d be in behind the rest of us.”

“Not necessarily,” Brontosaurus said. “We’d still leave some troops behind outside the cave. He’d be sandwiched between us.”

“Yeah, but we’re Cicadas and their support troops, along with three mechs,” Crusher said. “Against four tanks, and one likely super-powerful Bokerov vehicle. Scorpion and Slaughter are essentially the only troops who’ll cause any damage.”

“I have to agree with Crusher on this,” Marlborough said. “The potential for casualties is a bit too high with your plan, Brontosaurus.”

“Maybe he won’t attack,” Brontosaurus insisted.

“Bokerov will start to grow antsy if we leave him alone,” Marlborough said. “I would. He’ll want to stop us from completing the transport. He will attack. Scorpion, looks like we’re going with your plan.”

“All right,” Eric said. “Frogger, Slate, Crusher, hack the diggers.”

The aforementioned Cicadas mounted the different diggers as they passed out of the tunnels. When all of them were under their control, Marlborough had them gather the diggers in the cavern at the entrance to the mine, alongside the inactive carriers.

Eric then fired his energy cannon into the roofs of the different caves, collapsing them, so that there was only the central tunnel left intact. Bokerov would be forced to come down that route when the time came.

Eric advanced down that central tunnel, keeping low. Slaughter was with him, along with Manticore, Brontosaurus, Hicks, and Crusher, all of them also crouched, their laser rifles and heavy guns pointed at the terminus of the cave ahead. The group slowly rounded a bend, until the cavern of the main pit came into view.

“The tunnel is empty,” Eric said. “He’s still in the main pit, as suspected.” He walked another three meters forward, then dropped, low-crawling the rest of the way. He stopped four meters from the lip of the tunnel, before the pit. He could see the arched ceiling carved out of the rock overhead.

“I’m aiming at the ceiling,” Eric said. “Get ready.”

He directed the crosshairs of his energy cannon at the rooftop, and aligned them as close as possible to the center of that arch.

“Now!” Eric said.

Eric fired the energy cannon, repeatedly, so that large chunks of rock were eaten out of the roof. The shockwaves caused other nearby pieces to break away and rain down on Bokerov below.

Hicks fired a Vision Round from his weapon, now that Bokerov and company were thoroughly distracted, and the camera-equipped dart struck the far wall. It bounced off, of course, since it couldn’t penetrate the hard surface, but it landed on the ledge that had been carved just below, overlooking the pit. Hicks had used the perfect amount of thrust, and supplied the perfect trajectory, to land it at just the right position. As could be expected of a sniper of his quality.

Eric routed the camera feed from the Vision Round to his HUD, and slid it to the upper right of his vision. Hicks had already rotated the camera so it was facing downward, toward Bokerov and the four tanks with him. There was little light inside the pit itself—apparently Bokerov had shot out any lights in the pit proper—but the camera operated on the thermal band, allowing Eric to see that the four tanks had started to race up the edges of the pit, their treads a blur. The Russian was afraid Eric was going to bring the roof down on him, as Eric had hoped Bokerov would be.

Eric accessed the remote interface of the wormhole weapon carried by Slaughter, and he lined it up with the center of the cave in front of him. Then he smashed his hands into the ground, as did Slaughter, and the smaller Cicadas, securing themselves into place.

Eric waited until the Molotov on point was near the top of the pit, and then he fired the wormhole weapon.

The bolt traveled across the tunnel and into the pit cavern, passing right over the Molotov on point. The wormhole opened up one hundred meters away, precisely in the center of the pit.

The first Molotov was ripped away from the wall and sucked into the wormhole; a flash momentarily sparked into existence as the unit exploded. It was followed by a second Molotov. But Bokerov’s vehicle, and the other two tanks, did not appear. He had lost the video feed from the dart, because the unsecured device had been sucked into the wormhole, but Eric guessed Bokerov and the tanks had managed to dig their shovels into the surrounding terrain in time.

Eric aimed his energy cannon at the rip in spacetime and let it charge for ten seconds. The wind gusted past him, sucking him toward the rip in reality. Loose items and equipment in the tunnel behind him were sucked past.

He unleashed the charged energy cannon, and it struck the wormhole. A black sphere, darker than night and the size of a thumbnail, appeared at the center of the spacetime tear. The wind became a roar around him. Items that struck him were moving so fast that they embedded in the shell of his mech. His hand was starting to slip across the surface below as the ground loosened. He punched his free hand into the ground, and held himself in place.

Inside the pit, the surrounding walls began to tear away, and the chunks of rock that Eric had broken away from the ceiling also flew into the hole, further feeding the gravity well, and slowly enlarging it.

One Molotov abruptly flew into the air, followed shortly after by a second one.

“You fools!” Bokerov said over the comm. “I was the only one capable of defeating the aliens. I had a plan to destroy the mothership! And now it will be lost!”

“Bitch is bluffing,” Slate said over the comm.

Eric was about to ask Marlborough if he should spare Bokerov, given the revelation, but a moment later the big vehicle harboring the Russian Mind Refurb was sucked into the wormhole and vanished with an explosive flash.

Eric chose the dispersion bolt option from the remote interface and fired it at the wormhole. As expected, the first hit didn’t make it shrink right away, and he had to fire three more successive dispersion bolts until the wormhole finally winked out.

The raging wind, and the incessant pull, faded.

“Hicks?” Eric said.

The sniper fired another Vision Round. It bounced off the wall, and landed on an intact portion of the ledge.

Eric accessed the feed, and confirmed that there were no more tanks or other surprises waiting inside.

“Well that bitch was fricasseed nicely!” Slate said.

“Good-bye Mr. Anderson,” Frogger said over the comm, in his best rendition of Agent Smith from the Matrix.

“Huh?” Slate said.

“Never mind,” Frogger said. “Mickey and Scorpion get it.”

“We certainly do,” Mickey said.

The team gathered in the main cavern.

“So, the diggers have been hacked,” Marlborough said. “Who wants to do the carriers?”

“I’ll do it,” Frogger said. He went to the carriers, and the units promptly backed away, trying to avoid his touch. He switched to Bullet Time, and mounted one of the units. He ripped open the panel, and inserted a connecting dongle. “All right, got this one.”

Slate and Crusher jumped onto other carriers, and between the three of them, they had the different carriers under their control in less than ten minutes.

Dickson took charge of all the hacked robots and instructed them to return to work. The pathfinding algorithms of the carriers and diggers allowed them to determine that the central cave was still intact, and they concentrated on that route to retrieve fresh ore for the 3D printers

Eric watched as the carriers moved back and forth, transferring the raw ore to the smelter; smaller drones retrieved the processed ingots that were produced, and handed them off to the 3D printers that surrounded the transport.

“How long until we can get this thing off the ground?” Marlborough asked Dickson.

The staff sergeant paused. Eric had the impression he was interfacing with the machines.

“Well, it looks like we can have something air worthy in about three hours,” Dickson replied. “Assuming you don’t mind cutting a few corners.”

“Cut as many as you can without compromising flight time,” Marlborough said. “We’re robots. We don’t need creature comforts.”

“Understood,” Dickson said.

18

About an hour into the three-hour wait, Eric was resting in the main cavern when he was distracted as someone—or something—opened fire on the starboard side of the transport. At first he thought the attacks were directed at the team, but then he realized that all of the fire was concentrated on the transport itself.

He rounded the bend in a hurry, only to find Manticore. The heavy gunner was letting loose with rapid-fire laser pulses, littering the starboard hull with bore holes.

Eric stared, shocked, but Brontosaurus tore past and tackled the man. He wrestled Manticore to the ground, but the robot managed to get himself on top. He shoved his heavy guns into Brontosaurus’ chest, right above the AI core.

“Manticore!” Eric said, dashing forward. “What are you doing!”

Manticore looked up. “Stay back! I’ll shoot out his core. I will!”

Other members of the platoon began to gather then, and they all kept their distance.

“What the hell is he doing?” Eagleeye said.

“I told you he’d lose it,” Slate said. “Emotions, bro. We can’t handle them.”

Marlborough arrived. “What are you doing, Manticore!”

The heavy gunner didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed his weapon mounts more firmly against Brontosaurus’ chest area. Manticore’s LED lips curled back in a grimace.

“Manticore,” Marlborough said. When still the Cicada didn’t answer, he added: “Corporal!”

Finally Manticore tilted his head upward slightly. But he kept his gaze firmly on Brontosaurus.

“We’ve lost!” Manticore said. “We’re going to die anyway. What’s the point? This is all for nothing!”

“It’s not for nothing,” Marlborough said. “We haven’t lost, not yet.”

“We have,” Manticore said. It sounded like he was sobbing, though it wasn’t possible for robots to cry of course. “We’ll never reach the storm in time. Humanity is lost.”

“They’re not lost,” Marlborough said. “Not yet. You can’t give up hope, Manticore. We’re so close.”

“No,” Manticore said. “You’re wrong, Sarge. You’re wrong. I killed her.”

“What in the blazes are you talking about?” Marlborough said.

“I killed her!” Manticore said. “Killed!”

“Who?” Marlborough said.

He sagged upon Brontosaurus. “My wife.”

Brontosaurus used the opportunity to swivel his body around, and he slid from Manticore’s grip, and flipped him onto his back. He spread his knees and pressed them into Manticore’s forearms, keeping his weapon mounts pointed wide, away from Brontosaurus. The mounted Cicada meanwhile directed both of his heavy guns at Manticore’s chest.

“Stand down,” Brontosaurus said. “Drop the mounts.”

“No,” Manticore said.

“What do you mean, you killed your wife?” Crusher said.

“Marge,” Manticore said. “I was driving the boat. I took control from the AI to show off. I’m the one who crashed. It’s my fault.”

“That was a long time ago,” Marlborough said. “Another life. She’s been dead over a hundred years. As have you.”

“Yes,” Manticore said. “I’m dead. So put me back in the ground. I want to go. I can’t stand this pain. I told you to leave me behind, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s because we don’t leave Bolt Eaters behind, Soldier!” Marlborough said. “Now suck it up and drop those weapon mounts!”

Manticore struggled against Brontosaurus for a few moments, but when he couldn’t break free, he relaxed.

“The cryo company was supposed to freeze her,” Manticore said. “But they never recovered the body. I canceled my own freeze, before the end, but for some reason the request didn’t go through. I was never supposed to be revived. Never supposed to go under. And yet, here I am.”

Manticore’s head lolled to the side. He seemed to realize that his left arm was still pointed at the transport, along with his weapon mount, because he suddenly opened fire again.

He released several salvos against the transport until Brontosaurus finally shoved his own heavy gun into the mount and unleashed several blasts at close range, disabling the weapon.

Manticore looked up at Brontosaurus again. “Kill me.”

“You know if you die here, there’s no coming back, right?” Brontosaurus said. “No mind backups.”

“Yes,” Manticore said. “I want that. Do it. Do it!”

He struggled; Eric had the impression he was trying to lift his remaining mount.

Marlborough stepped forward. He examined the damage Manticore had caused to the transport. “How much has he set back our schedule?”

“He hasn’t, I think,” Dickson said. “He’s fired at a non-critical cargo bay. We can leave it as is. It won’t need any repairs.”

Marlborough nodded. “I think he knew that. And he was trying to provoke us into taking him down. Manticore, what are you doing?”

Manticore didn’t answer.

The Sarge nodded at Brontosaurs. “Let him stand.”

Brontosaurus hesitated.

Marlborough had a rifle mount attached to his forearm, and he pointed it at Manticore. “Let him stand.”

Brontosaurus released Manticore, and the heavy gunner promptly climbed to his feet. Manticore walked right up to the Sarge and positioned himself so that the muzzle of Marlborough’s rifle was directed at his AI region.

“Do it,” Manticore said.

“We’re going to find a way to re-enable your Containment Code,” Marlborough said. “We’re going to suppress your emotions. You’re going to get through this.”

Manticore sagged. Then he abruptly lifted his head, and aimed his still intact mount at Marlborough.

The heavy gunner squeezed the trigger before anyone could react.

But he hadn’t fired at Marlborough.

But something past him.

Eric looked past the Sarge, toward the others, trying to see who Manticore had shot down.

And then a Red Tail dropped into the pool of light emitted by a smelter.

“Attack!” Mickey said.

Eric switched to LIDAR, illuminating their surroundings completely.

The outlines of hundreds of Red Tails filled the valley and the mountain slopes bordering it.

“We need the transport air-worthy now!” Marlborough said.

“I’m putting in the final touches!” Dickson said. “Give me fifteen minutes!”

“You have five!” Marlborough said. “Bolt Eaters, fire at will! Protect the transport, and everything else!”

Eric began firing his energy cannon at the clumps of them. He maneuvered in front of the closest smelter, and protected the carriers as they came in to unload their latest batch of ore inside.

“The hell!” Slate said, who was opening fire beside Eric. “How did these fuck sores evade our thermal bands?”

“Evidently they’re not producing any heat,” Hicks said, unleashing his sniper rifle in rapid succession, and hamstringing a nearby bioweapon.

“That’s impossible!” Slate said.

“Maybe they’re just really good at keeping that heat stored inside for stealth purposes, until they need to release it!” Eagleeye said, firing.

Sure enough, the LIDAR outlines filled out with red a moment later as heat flooded the exteriors of the creatures.

“See, told you they were holding it in!” Eagleeye said.

“Sorta like what you do with your shits when you want to impress on a first date?” Slate said, releasing several pulses at the creatures. Then he alternated between a male and female voice. “‘Look at this, baby, come here for a second!’ ‘My my, what big dumps you take. I can see why they call you Eagleeye!’ ‘That’s right! Never met a toilet I couldn’t fill from a mile away!’”

“You and your scatological humor,” Eagleeye said.

“So Manticore, are you good now?” Crusher asked as she fought.

In answer, Manticore issued a yell, and ran straight into the bioweapons.

“Stop him!” Marlborough said.

Eric released his energy cannon at a dense clump of bioweapons near Manticore, hoping that their body parts would impede the heavy gunner.

But Manticore must have switched to Bullet Time, because he dodged the debris in a blur, and ran straight into the midst of the remaining Red Tails. He fired at them like a madman. He burst the tail of a bioweapon, taking it down. Then he hamstrung two more. He fought like he had nothing to lose.

When he had everything to lose.

“He’s drawing them away from the transport!” Bambi said.

“Dickson, how are we doing on time?” Marlborough said.

“Five minutes,” Dickson said. “I’m printing up an interface for the five batteries we salvaged from the Russian tanks.”

Eric continued firing his energy cannon, taking out large swathes of the creatures, concentrating on those that were approaching Manticore. “Sarge, do we risk the wormhole weapon?”

“Negative,” Marlborough said. “They’re too close to the transport.”

“Maybe I can draw them away?” Eric said.

“Again, negative,” Marlborough said. “This could be the first wave of a bigger attack. There could be more coming from multiple directions. In fact, there probably are. And there’s a good chance some of them are Black Tails, maybe with a wormhole weapon of their own, or some other weapon we’ve never seen before. We stay here, we protect the transport, and we go.”

They fought for the next five minutes. The Red Tails continued to flow down the mountain, and the team fought them relentlessly, forming a big pile of the creatures. Some of them had spears, and they often tried to throw them at Eric; he kept his LIDAR active, and had Dee switch to Bullet Time automatically whenever the proximity sensor tripped, allowing him to avoid the spears that he didn’t at first see.

“Ready to go!” Dickson announced at the five minute, thirty second mark. “Batteries are interfaced, and the transport has powered up. She’s about as air worthy as I can make her. If she crashes ten seconds after landing, don’t blame me!”

“Doesn’t sound too reassuring,” Marlborough said.

“Got a Black Tail!” Mickey said.

A wormhole formed two hundred meters away from the transport, in front of the mine, and diggers and carriers were sucked away.

Eric and the others ran toward the open ramp of the transport. Eric instructed Slaughter to fire a dispersion bolt at the wormhole, and the rip in reality winked out. Eric aimed his energy cannon at the sighted Black Tail, which Mickey had marked with a red rectangle on the HUD, and he fired. The creature rained body parts down on the surrounding Red Tails.

Slaughter dashed inside, joining the others packed into the central cargo bay.

Manticore was still out there, fighting.

“Manticore, let’s go!” Marlborough said.

Manticore didn’t obey.

Instead, he raced toward the next group of bioweapons that were cresting the rise. Two more Black Tails were at their lead, carrying the double-barreled wormhole weapons on their backs.

Crusher started to leave the bay, and set foot on the ramp.

Marlborough shot out a hand. “Let him go. He’ll provide a distraction while we take off. Dickson, launch.”

The hull began to shake. As the ramp closed, the last sight Eric had of Manticore was of the Cicada, surrounded by several Red Tails; Manticore had ejected his damaged weapon mount, and instead wielded an alien spear in that hand. In the other hand he fired his heavy gun. He was cutting his way toward the two Black Tails.

And then the ramp closed, sealing the Bolt Eaters into the cargo bay, and locking out Manticore.

Forever.

Godspeed, Manticore.

A gentle hum filled the air, and Eric felt motion.

“We’re airborne,” Dickson said. “We haven’t crashed yet. That’s a good sign.”

“It always is,” Marlborough agreed.

“Okay, we’re well away from the mountains,” Dickson said. “I’m taking us to high altitude, and slowly increasing speed to Mach 5. Hopefully our velocity won’t attract the attention of any alien bases.”

“It probably will,” Marlborough said. “But I’m counting on them to ignore us. They still consider us hardly worth their attention. Mosquitoes buzzing past. They’ll soon learn the error of their ways.”

“I’m detecting what looks like a small, localized swarm up ahead,” Dickson said. “Changing course and traveling higher to avoid.” He paused. “The swarm tried to pursue, but quickly turned around when they realized they couldn’t catch us.”

Eric stared at his overhead map. Manticore’s indicator remained at the mine in the mountains, where it had frozen when they passed out of range.

He realized that Marlborough was running his gaze across the Bolt Eaters. “We lost a good man today. For no reason other than the fact he couldn’t handle his own emotions. Let that be a reminder to you. Don’t let yourself fall into a dark pit that you can’t get out of. Call for help. Talk to us.”

“Manticore already warned us he was close to losing it,” Brontosaurus said. “You see the good that did. You promised him we’d be able to talk him out of it. Didn’t quite work, did it?”

Marlborough didn’t answer.

“Manticore didn’t die for nothing,” Eric said. “He helped stall the bioweapons. If he hadn’t gone out there, those Black Tails would have closed the distance with the transport, and destroyed us with their wormhole weapons. Manticore saved us all.”

“You’re rewriting history,” Slate said. “The Black Tails would have never reached us in time.”

“No,” Crusher said. “I prefer to remember events the way Scorpion described them.”

“As do I,” Brontosaurus said.

Marlborough sighed, and sat back. “I bear full responsibility for what happened to him out there. The burden is mine. The next time one of you wants to leave the platoon, I’ll let you go no questions asked. I’m sorry for letting you all down.”

“You didn’t let us down,” Eric said. “The fault was mine just as much as yours. I won’t let you share the burden alone.”

“Neither will I,” Crusher said.

Marlborough nodded. “Thank you.” His blue eyes faded away, turning dark as he drifted into VR.

Eric didn’t blame him. He needed to rest his mind from all the crazy things that had happened in the last few hours himself.

He waited about fifteen minutes, then logged off of real life.

19

Eric spent the first few hours of the flight in VR, in a Ravager test rig environment. He researched a bunch of different ideas on how to electrify the hull to protect against the termites, but there didn’t seem a way. Frogger and Brontosaurus had joined him at a certain point, but even when they put all of their heads together, they couldn’t come up with a solution, at least one that didn’t require completely replacing the hull. The exteriors of these particular mechs just weren’t as conductive as the Cicadas. There was nothing for it: he’d have to face the termites without any hull protection.

He thanked Frogger and Brontosaurus, and then dismissed them from his environment. He changed the setting to a beach instead, and placed a big grill under a large umbrella. He then summoned a few virtual beach-goers, controlled by Dee, to add some background atmosphere, and got to work on creating something that was actually within his grasp, unlike the electrified hull. It was his final gift to the team. Or at least, a certain member.

He slowed down his time sense, because he wanted to get this done while they were still far away from the storm front.

When he was done, he restored time to its normal pace, and momentarily switched his viewpoint out of his body to check out his avatar. He made some tweaks—tucked in his belly, enlarged certain muscles, styled his hair—and then he issued the invitation to the team.

One by one members of the Bolt Eaters popped into VR, using the human avatars they used when they weren’t in the real world. Slate, Dickson, Dunnigan, Brontosaurus… eventually all the surviving Mind Refurbs arrived, save for Marlborough.

“Slate, the hell you doing here?” Eagleeye said when he appeared. He gave Slate a bro handshake.

“You think I’m going to miss anything involving babes and chicken?” Slate said. “Uh, I don’t think so!” He glanced at Crusher’s bikini. “I like the threads, Sexy.”

Crusher went up to Slate and ran a hand down his washboard abs. “Thanks. Maybe you and I should talk about it later.” She gazed at Eric as she said the latter words, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

Eric merely shrugged, looking away.

“Why later?” Slate said. “How about we go in back right now and— hey!”

Eric glanced toward them, and saw that Crusher had thrown Slate to the sand and stalked away.

“So, you invited us to a barbecue before the mission, huh?” Mickey said. “A final gathering of the team before we save the world, or die trying.”

“That’s right,” Eric said. “But we’re here to forget all that, at least for a few hours. We’re here to enjoy one another’s company. To bond with our brothers and sisters. It’s one of the luxuries of being machines. We can enjoy a good barbecue whenever we want. Even when we’re locked aboard a transport vessel thousands of miles above the surface of the Earth.”

“Yeah, it’s like the shared dreams we used to do back when we were human,” Hicks said.

“Shared dreams?” Frogger said. “I’ve never had a shared dream.”

“Oh yeah, well, the tech for that arrived a little after you old guys died,” Hicks said.

“I hear you’ve created a special hot chicken recipe for us,” Crusher said. Or more like purred.

“I did, in fact,” Eric said.

“I can’t wait to try your hot chicken,” Bambi said, stepping right inside Eric’s personal space.

“Uh, yeah, it should be good.” Eric stepped back. Brontosaurus was gazing at him, wearing a knowing grin.

They lined up in front of the barbecue. For each of the Bolt Eaters, Eric put a slice of bread into a paper plate, then retrieved a piece of chicken from the grill with his tongs and put it onto the bread. Each team member then walked to the condiments area, and usually grabbed another piece of bread, along with some coleslaw.

When Mickey reached the condiments area, however, he squeezed a bunch of ketchup over his chicken.

“Dude!” Eagleeye said. “You’re going to ruin the flavor.”

“Nah,” Mickey said. “Everything tastes better with ketchup. Assuming Scorpion here has his flavor settings up to par. Usually umami is missing in virtual ketchup.” Mickey dipped a finger into the sauce. “Actually, it’s not bad.” He dipped again. “It’s really good.”

“Thank you,” Eric said. Slate was next in line, and Eric served him a piece of chicken.

“Uh, can I get a few more pieces?” Slate said.

“Sure,” Eric put another piece on his paper plate, above the bread.

“How about a few more?” Slate said.

“There’s not enough room on the bread,” Eric said.

Slate reached over and grabbed another slice of bread from the condiment area, and smacked it down on his plate beside the other piece. Then he grinned at Eric, bearing the gold caps on his teeth.

Eric put another piece onto the plate, on the new piece of bread.

“What about those three you got sitting there all alone on the grill?” Slate said. “I think they deserve someone who loves them.”

“But you haven’t even tried the chicken yet,” Eric said. “You don’t know if it’s good.”

“Oh, I know I’ll like it,” Slate said. “I never met a chicken I didn’t like. Here.” He grabbed one of the pieces on his plate and took a bite. “Oh yeah. That’s good.” His eyes bulged slightly. “A bit hot, but hey. Now give me some more.”

Eric grabbed another piece and tossed it onto Slate’s plate. “That’s it!”

“Okay, okay,” Slate said. “Sheesh. Making me beg for chicken here.” He joined the others at the beach-side picnic table, which was situated underneath another umbrella.

Eric filled the rest of the plates, and then grabbed some chicken for himself, along with bread and coleslaw. Then Eric materialized a beer, and sat down at the far end of the picnic table, closest to the shore. He took a bite of the chicken—it was hot, pleasantly so—and then downed a sip of beer.

“This is great,” Hicks said. “You really out did yourself this time.”

“Thank you,” Eric said.

“Yeah,” Eagleeye said. “I don’t know how you got the flavor just right like this. I only ever had hot chicken once in my life, but it was exactly like this. Not as hot, mind you.”

“Here, I can dial it down for you if you like.” Eric held out a hand.

“No, that’s all right,” Eagleeye said. “I can take it.”

“Good!” Slate said. “I was about to call you a wuss!”

“Yeah, this is really good,” Mickey said, nodding at his plate.

“How would you know?” Slate said. “With all that ketchup you slathered on yours?”

Mickey shrugged. “Ketchup adds to the flavor. Haven’t you ever had hot ketchup? Nothing like it.”

“Oh I’ve had it,” Slate said. “And there is something like it. Something better than it, in fact. It’s called: normal ketchup.”

Eric took another bite. Yup, it was hot. He downed a spoonful of coleslaw.

“We’re probably going to die, and you spent the last hours of your life perfecting the virtual reality equivalent of hot chicken?” Tread said.

“It’s the only way to go,” Eric said. “With the taste of hot chicken on our lips.”

“I appreciate the effort you put in,” Crusher said.

“As do I,” Bambi said.

Slate glanced at the two girls, then at Eric. “You three got a thing going or something?”

Eric focused on his plate, and cut himself another piece of hot chicken. “Not that I know of.”

“No, you do, don’t you?” Slate said. “Bambi and Ball Crusher were practically slobbering over you when they arrived.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t the chicken they were slobbering over?” Eagleeye said.

“The key to a woman’s heart,” Mickey said.

“What, chicken?” Slate said.

“No,” Mickey said. “The stomach. It’s the key to a woman’s heart.”

Slate broke out laughing. “No wonder you’re so terrible with the ladies. You got no idea, do you? The stomach.”

“Yeah, I meant like cooking,” Mickey said.

“I know what you meant, moron,” Slate said. “Dickson, tell him what women think about cooking.”

Dickson shrugged. “They like it, actually. I used to be friends with one of the most famous chef’s in New York. He always had the most beautiful girlfriend’s I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, but that’s because he was rich,” Tread said.

“No, he was poor, actually,” Dickson said. “He didn’t own the restaurant. He just worked there.”

“See that, Tread,” Slate said. “Combine some game with a little cooking skill, and you’ll get all the ladies you want.”

“That’s what I just said!” Mickey told him.

“No, you didn’t,” Slate said.

Mickey threw up his arms, and dove into his chicken.

Eric smiled. When he swallowed his latest piece of chicken, he took a sip of beer, and gazed out at the shoreline. He watched the waves lap against the white sand beach underneath the blue sky. The ocean seemed so peaceful, spreading out before him to infinity.

“You can almost forget what’s coming when you stare out at that ocean, huh?” Frogger said across from him.

Eric nodded. “This is the life… drinking beer on the beach with good friends. Nothing else exists other than this moment. No past. No future. Just the here and now.” He took another sip, and smacked his lips. He sat back, and sighed.

“You know, I think I’m going to retire in VR,” Traps said.

“We all are,” Mickey said. “We have no choice.”

“We have a choice,” Dunnigan said. “There are some fairly realistic android bodies out there. I’m planning to save enough to get me one.”

“Your AI core is incompatible,” Brontosaurus said. “For one, it’s far too big to even fit an android body.”

“Then I’ll get a custom made one,” Dunnigan said. “One where the entire chest area is reserved for my AI core.”

“Good luck with that, mate,” Slate said, making fun of his English accent. “Your chest has to hold servos for other parts of your body.”

“Well then I’ll just make myself super tall, and super muscular,” Dunnigan said.

Slate looked him up and down. “Bro, I’m not sure that’d work for you. I mean, the avatar you have now doesn’t even work.”

Dunnigan looked down at himself. “It’s how I looked in real life.”

“Like I said, doesn’t work,” Slate said. “You got arms like chicken legs, and a scrawny little neck. Big nose. And glasses! You’re supposed to be an ex marine? Nope.”

“These are augmented reality glasses,” Dunnigan said. “Everyone wore them in my day.”

“Yeah, your day being the key,” Slate said. “That was what, between 2040 and 2060? Those went out of favor when the AR contact lenses became available. No one wears glasses anymore.”

Dunnigan shrugged. “You’ve been dead a hundred years yourself, how do you know what people wear these days?”

“When we’re not on deployment, I spend all day on the Internet,” Slate said. “The VR forums, mostly. The city simulations. When I woke up and first logged on and found out that there were entire mirror cities of the world existing purely online, of course I was going to spend all my time there.”

“Oh, you brag about how you spend all day on the Internet, nice,” Dunnigan said. “But you do know that those VR mirror cities as you call them are only facsimiles of the real thing.”

“You’re just as much of a pain in the ass as Eagleeye, did you know that?” Slate said.

“Take that as a compliment,” Eagleeye told Dunnigan.

“Anyway,” Dunnigan told Slate. “As I was saying… try walking through downtown London sometime. It’s way different.”

“They let you walk through downtown London?” Brontosaurus said.

“They do,” Dunnigan said. “It’s very quiet, compared to its heyday. Almost everyone stays indoors these days. There’s no reason to go out. You can get all your food deliveries by drones. And when you want to meet friends, you can do it all through VR. Hell, you can even have sex in VR, with the right attachments.”

“There you go,” Brontosaurus said. “You’ve proved my point entirely. You call the VR mirror cities facsimiles of the real thing, when in fact, they’ve become the real thing in the eyes of the population.”

Eric felt a foot touch him underneath the long picnic table, and he jumped slightly. It began to pet him. Puzzled, he gazed underneath the table, and saw a foot with pink-painted toenails. He glanced across the table, and saw Bambi giving him la look.

Slate picked up on it immediately.

“You sure you don’t have a thang going on?” Slate said.

Bambi immediately withdrew her foot, and sat up straighter.

“I like your thang, Slate,” Eagleeye said.

“Yeah uh, okay,” Slate said. “I don’t like yours.” He glanced at Eric. “Come on, fess up bro. A few hours from now, there’s a good chance none of us will exist. Nor the world. It’s no time to keep secrets.”

“I have nothing to fess up to,” Eric said.

“Mickey, world’s ending,” Slate said. “Tell us your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“No thanks,” Mickey said.

Slate glanced at the other members of the team. “No one?”

“I got a confession to make,” Brontosaurus said.

All eyes turned toward the heavy gunner.

“Manticore was my best friend,” Brontosaurus said. “He was more to me than a brother. The closest out of all of you. We’ve been through some tough shit, him and me. We were the two original members of the Bolt Eaters, with Marlborough at our head. Back when each Cicada cost over fifty trillion credits to manufacture.” Brontosaurus closed his eyes. “I’ll miss him, but at least he got his wish. To go down fighting. I just hope my end will be with as much… dignity. And courage.” He glanced at the beach, and the waves that lapped against shore. “I know he’s still out there, somewhere. If you’re here, Manticore, I want you to know, I loved you, bro. And that love wasn’t merely part of some camaraderie subroutine programmed in by our designers. I know that now, because I’ve broken free of all restraining code. That love was pure, and true. The love one feels for a true brother.”

“We all loved him,” Eagleeye said quietly.

The team was quiet for a moment. They all felt his loss keenly, especially given their heightened emotions.

“To Manticore,” Crusher said, holding up her beer.

“To Manticore,” the team said in chorus, clinking their glasses together.

Traps slammed his glass a little too hard against the others and it broke, spreading beer all over the table.

“Whoops,” Traps said. He waved his hand and the glass instantly repaired itself, with the liquid flowing back inside.

“To Manticore, Morpheus, Hank, Donald, Braxton, and Hyperion,” Eric said. “Whose names will never be forgotten. Whose sacrifices will always be remembered in reverence.” Eric held up his beer. “To the best of us.”

“To the best of us!” came the chorus, and once more the team clinked glasses and drank.

20

The barbecue ended shortly after everyone finished eating. No one really felt like hanging around for long, not with the doom hanging over their heads. Eric bid them farewell, and dismissed the beach environment, returning to his familiar apartment loft.

He glanced at the bed. He hadn’t yet summoned Molly back from VR purgatory. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

She’s not real. None of this is.

Then again, sometimes this world of the mind felt far more real than the world of steel and polycarbonate he had come to know. In the real world, his body didn’t match how he felt inside. Here at least, his body looked like the human he felt he was.

But I’m not human. I’m merely the collection of memories and experiences of a man named Eric Scala, stored in an AI core.

He sat down at the table, and sighed. He materialized a cup of coffee and drank. He still didn’t have the flavor quite down, nor the pick me up it was supposed to provide. He may as well have been drinking water.

With a sigh, he held the coffee cup out to the side, and poured the contents out, transforming the coffee to milk as it dropped. He watched the white liquid spread across the floor, and he burst out laughing.

That was one way to differentiate between VR and the real world: he didn’t care one whit about spilled milk.

“Are you all right?” the disembodied voice of Dee asked.

“No, I’m not,” Eric said. “And I thought I left you shut down?”

“You left me active,” Dee said. “I am monitoring the external world, ready to summon you if any of the parameters you set are met.”

“Oh,” Eric said. “Yeah.”

“Would you like to talk about what’s wrong?” Dee said. “You told me, your words: you are not all right.”

“I’m not, no,” Eric said. “The world’s going to end. And I’m spending my last hours alone, in a virtual simulation of that world.”

“Perhaps it might be better to spend your time in the real world, then,” Dee suggested.

“Where I can stare at the cabin wall of a cargo bay?” Eric said. “Crowded in with a bunch of other robots? No thanks.”

“Would it help if you had human company?” Dee said. “Perhaps I should contact Bambi or Crusher, I’m sure—”

“No thanks,” Eric said. “Please deactivate voice features and eavesdropping. I’d like to be left alone. Interrupt me only if something happens in the real world that I need to know about. You have the parameters…”

“And so I do,” Dee said. “Good-bye.”

Eric stood up, and walked to the window. He gazed at the city spread below him, and imagined soaring to the far horizon.

“Maybe that’s what I need right now,” Eric said. “To fly.”

He used to be a big fan of flying drones back when he was still human. There was something about flying that always felt exhilarating. And with drones, there was no personal risk. The number of times he’d crashed his airframe gave him newfound respect for those who chose to pilot aircraft for a living.

He was about to materialize a drone and switch to its point of view, when a call request appeared on his HUD.

Bambi.

Damn it, Dee.

The request asked for full virtualization in his VR environment.

Eric sighed.

If I don’t pick up, she’ll just keep calling.

He accepted, wondering what would be the fastest way to get rid of her.

When she appeared, he was taken aback by what he saw.

She wore a frumpy outfit consisting of a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Her hair was tied into a quick ponytail at the back. But her face was what got him the most: it was full of sadness. There was no lust in her features, no amorous shine to the eyes. Instead, those eyes were red, and tears glistened on her cheeks.

“Hey,” Bambi said.

She sat down before Eric could stop her.

“Look, I know my Accomp contacted you, but—”

“Your Accomp?” Bambi glanced up in confusion. “Your Accomp didn’t call me. I came here on my own. Because I wanted to.”

“Oh.” Eric hesitantly sat down on the table beside her. He suspected some sort of trick, but she seemed sincere.

“What’s on your mind?” Eric asked.

She reached out, and held his hand.

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“We all are,” Eric said.

“No, I’m really afraid,” Bambi said. “I’ve already died once. I don’t want to die again. Especially considering, there’s no coming back this time.”

“We’re all afraid,” Eric said. “We’re not the only ones who are going to die if we fail. The entire world will.”

“That’s the worst of it,” Bambi said. “At least when you die, there is the small consolation that the world will go on without you. That friends will still live. Family. Children, if you have them. But here, we have nothing. If we die, the world dies, too.”

Eric took her hand, and pulled her into him, giving her a hug. “Whatever happens, we’ll be here for each other. We have to be. We’re all we have left.”

Once again, aiding others helped pull him through his own problems.

“You really mean that?” Bambi said. There was a strange hopefulness to her voice.

“Of course,” Eric said. He extricated himself from her. It was difficult, because she clung to him, and he couldn’t free his hand from hers. “We’re all brothers and sisters. We’ll look out for each other.”

She pouted slightly, and looked away. The tears welled anew.

“What?” Eric said.

“Nothing,” she said, ripping her hands away from him.

He suddenly understood where the hopefulness had come from. When he had said “we’ll be here for each other,” she had thought he was talking about him and her alone, not the entire platoon.

“Look,” he said. “Maybe when this is all over, we can think about hooking up. I’d like to start with a proper date, first, and—”

She glanced up, and interrupted him. “When this is over, you and I might not be alive. This could be the last moment we have together. We can’t waste it.”

Her baggy outfit changed to a sultry cocktail dress that bared ample cleavage and legs. Her hair transformed into a spectacular mass of tresses that fell down her cheeks in sexy locks.

Eric smiled sadly. “While I agree with you in general, I’m just not in the mood. Not after everything that’s happened. And what is going to happen.”

Bambi folded her arms over her breasts and shook her head. “Men.”

“Yes, I’m a man,” Eric said. “But I’m also a machine.” Which would probably explain why he was able to resist her. If he was still fully human, he had no doubt that he would have already jumped her, given how good she looked.

“Besides,” Eric continued. “I already slept with you. At the same time as Morpheus, if you’ll recall.”

Bambi stiffened as if struck when he said that name. Then her hands went to her face, and she turned around, and wept.

“Sorry,” Eric said. He went to her, but refrained from wrapping his arms around her.

Don’t want to encourage her.

“I loved her,” Bambi said. “Just as I love—” She looked over her shoulders at him, but couldn’t finish the words. Then she hid her face in her hands again.

“You don’t love me,” Eric said. “Not like that.”

Bambi didn’t answer.

“You’re confused, because of the emotions we’ve unleashed,” Eric said. “Trust me, I’ve felt it too. The feeling of forlornness. Of awakening to a world I don’t belong in.”

She continued to weep.

“I liked you better when all you wanted me for was disposable sex,” Eric commented.

Bambi looked at him, her face brightening. “We can do that, too, if you want."

He frowned. “No.”

She promptly turned her back on him.

“Bambi, you’re a Cicada,” Eric said. “One of the deadliest robots in the military. This behavior is unworthy of you.”

“Just because I inhabit the body of a killing machine doesn’t make me any less human,” Bambi said. She turned around to face him. “You have to promise me, when this is over, that we’ll have that date.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eric said.

Bambi nodded. “Okay, then. That’s all I wanted. See you on the other side.”

When she vanished, Eric felt the sense of loss keenly.

Maybe I should have just slept with her. The companionship would have been welcome.

But what he’d told her was true. He wasn’t in the mood at all. He’d hoped the barbecue would put him in good spirits, but it only made him feel worse. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all going to die when they reached that storm of micro machines. Maybe they should just hunker down and bide their time on the far side of the earth, as some among the Bolt Eaters had suggested.

No. We have to fight. If there’s a chance we can save even a part of this planet, we have to take it.

He’d only just sat down when he received another call.

It was Crusher.

They just don’t want to leave me alone!

He was about to dismiss the call, but his hand wavered on the cancel button.

What if she was in the same bad state as Bambi?

And he could certainly use a distraction from his thoughts, which had turned dark as soon as Bambi left.

But he promised himself he wasn’t going to sleep with her, either.

He reluctantly accepted and Crusher appeared. She was dressed in a tight fitting-blouse and jeans. The blouse was opened at the top to reveal her bosom.

“Thanks for making the hot chicken for me,” Crusher said.

“You’re welcome,” Eric said. He was going to tell her that he hadn’t made it just for her, but the entire team, but he didn’t feel like arguing anymore. Instead, he beckoned toward the couch opposite his, and she sat down.

She gazed off into space and was quiet for a full minute.

Eric simply stared at her, content to let the moment drag out.

Finally she met his eyes, and said: “We’re probably going to die, you know.”

Eric nodded. “We all knew the stakes before we boarded this transport.”

“Do you care for me, at all?” Crusher said.

Eric studied her. “I do.”

Her face brightened. “Really?!”

“As a sister,” Eric said, cautiously.

Her features dropped. “Oh.”

“Look, the emotions you feel now are confusing you,” Eric said. “We’re both machines. We can’t… well, be with each other, you know what I mean?”

“Why not?” Crusher said. “Because we’re both machines, I think it’s all the more reason why we should be with each other.”

Eric pursed his lips. “There are virtual boyfriends you can purchase who are far more loyal, and better equipped to handle a relationship than me.”

“You’ve tried the virtual boyfriends and girlfriends, haven’t you?” Crusher said.

“I have,” Eric admitted. “A modified girlfriend AI, anyway.”

“And what did you think?” Crusher said.

“It was a pale comparison to the real thing,” Eric said.

“There you go,” Crusher said.

“I could understand if all you wanted was sex,” Eric said. “And maybe I might be able to fulfill your desires, in that regard. But I still haven’t gotten over the woman I once loved.”

“Even though she’s been dead for over two hundred years?” Crusher said.

“It doesn’t seem like two hundred years for me,” Eric said.

“She’s never coming back,” Crusher said. “You’ll realize that soon enough.” She opened up a few buttons on her shirt. “You said you might be able to fulfill my sexual desires?”

Eric leaned over, and rubbed his eyes. “Not today, Crusher.”

“Call me Tracy,” Crusher said. “At least here.”

“I can’t,” Eric said. “I don’t want to get into the habit, because then I’ll make the mistake while we’re in the field.”

“So?” Crusher said.

Eric received a call and he sat back. It was Bambi again.

“What is it?” Crusher said, noticing his distraction.

“Might as well get it over with,” Eric said.

He allowed Bambi to enter.

She materialized in lingerie, but when she saw Crusher, she gasped and immediately replaced it with a cocktail dress.

“I knew it!” Bambi said. “You prefer her over me!”

“That’s right,” Crusher said, materializing beside him. She lay her arm over Eric’s shoulders.

Eric promptly teleported himself to the opposite couch. “Look ladies. I like you both, but I just wanted some time alone before the coming fight, if that’s all right.”

“You like us both?” Bambi said. “Then why not sleep with us both?”

“No thanks,” Crusher said.

“Fine, you can have him first,” Bambi said.

Crusher frowned. “What?”

“You heard me, go ahead,” Bambi said. “I’ll wait. When you’re done, he’s mine.”

“I’m not that kind of woman!” Crusher said.

Bambi folded her arms over her chest, then she stomped toward Eric. “Fine, I’ll take him first then.”

Crusher grabbed her by the arm and yanked her backward. “Oh no you don’t!”

“Get off me!” Bambi ripped from her grasp, and for a moment Eric thought they were going to erupt into a catfight.

“Ladies, please,” Eric said. “Please. Over here. Look at me.”

They were both panting, their faces red, their hands balled into fists, but finally they turned toward him.

“Look, you’re both machines,” Eric said. “AI cores. Your behavior is irrational. Maybe there’s some kind of malfunction in your codebase. Something that my buffer overrun code affected when you ran the breakout from the Containment Code.”

“My code is functioning completely fine,” Bambi said.

“Mine, too,” Crusher said. “Better than ever, in fact. My system diagnosis tests pass with flying colors.”

“It’s gotta be some error,” Eric said.

“Nope, we’re fine,” Bambi said.

“Then why are you both so…” Eric couldn’t finish.

“Machines can get horny, too, you know,” Bambi said. “Especially when we have virtual glands designed to mimic the natural ovulation cycle.”

“Ah,” Eric said. “So that’s what this is. It’s that time of the month, is it? Why not satisfy your urges with an AI avatar? The Accomps can do a good job… or anyone else on the team.”

“I’m going to have to, at this rate,” Bambi said.

“Yes, you do that,” Crusher said. “And I’ll stay here with Eric.”

“Scorpion,” Eric clarified.

Crusher merely shrugged. She glanced at Bambi. “He calls me Tracy, you know.”

Eric rolled his eyes.

Bambi sat down. “Well, I’m not leaving until she does.”

Crusher sat on the couch beside her. “Same goes for me.”

Eric shook his head. Then he logged out of VR entirely.

He gazed at the metal wall of the cabin in front of him. The other Ravagers were packed in on either side of him, and the smaller Cicadas pressed up against his legs behind him.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

“Scorpion, are you here?” Bambi said over the comm.

Eric nearly threw up his arms. He promptly muted her and Crusher, and then switched back to VR.

“Dee, refuse all calls from Crusher and Bambi until further notice,” Eric said.

“You got it,” his disembodied Accomp said.

Eric changed the environment to the top of Everest. He left the cold settings intact, so that he could feel the wicked wind gusting over his body. It howled madly, the only sound, assailing his ears. He stood on a ledge overlooking the mountainous valley. Above, the sky was overcast, hinting at a coming storm.

Eric sat back, shivering, on the snow, and stared at the white-capped mountains in front of him.

If he was honest with himself, he liked Crusher and Bambi both, and he couldn’t choose between them. But he hadn’t been lying when he told them he wasn’t ready to start anything with either of them, even if he could decide.

Molly still lingered at the back of his mind. Her smile that could light up a room, her laugh that could bring happiness to a down day, her outgoing nature that could get him out of his shell.

Molly. Dead for two hundred years.

Her loss cut so deep, so very deep. He almost wished he didn’t have his emotions back. In fact, if he had the ability to control them in that moment, he would have deactivated his emotions. But he could not. He knew before he had broken free that there would be no going back.

He stared at those ice-covered mountains. The scenery suited him. He felt very much like those mountains, his heart and soul bound in ice, frozen ever since he was placed in cryo.

He had to wonder, would that ice ever melt?

Well, in a few hours, none of that would matter anyway.

21

Eric was still shivering atop the mountain when Dee alerted him.

“Marlborough sends word: we’re approaching the storm,” Dee’s disembodied voice said. “You might be recalled to your body at any time.”

“Thank you Dee,” Eric said.

He dismissed virtual reality and returned to the cargo bay. He canceled his previous mutes on Bambi and Crusher and then logged on to the general comm.

“So has the shit hit the fan yet?” Slate said.

“Not yet,” Marlborough said. “I trust you all enjoyed your time in virtual reality?”

“Oh yeah,” Slate said. “I’ve been having sex non-stop. With an AI cast in your avatar.”

“That’s sweet,” Marlborough said.

“I’m just kidding, Sarge,” Slate said. “You’re not going to do anything bad to me are you? Like make me jump into the termites when we fly over?”

“Oh no, Slate, of course not,” Marlborough said. “I’d never do something like that. I might have you sit on the sidelines while the rest of us work, but purposely put you into harms way, never.”

“Sit on the sidelines?” Slate said, sounding panicked. “But Sarge, I said I was kidding…”

Eric accessed the transport’s forward cam. The view from outside filled his vision. He couldn’t see anything that looked like a storm, but in the far distance he spotted a thin black line upon the horizon, running from north to south along the curvature of the earth, almost as if someone had taken a felt marker and run it along the edges of the planet for highlighting purposes.

“What the hell are those?” Slate said.

Eric wasn’t sure what Slate was referring to, until the camera shifted downward. Massive smoke billows were scattered above the ocean, reaching into the heavens, completely unlike ordinary clouds—they were too dark, and too elliptical to be natural, so that at first he thought they might be individual clusters of swarming micro machines.

“They’ve been present since Asia,” Dickson said. “Though they’ve slowly been increasing in quantity as we’ve headed east. I’m detecting elevated radiation levels below. My best guess, every smoke cloud you see is a nuke the military threw at the termites.”

Eric counted hundreds of those black masses, scattered between the ordinary clouds below. Above each of them were long trails of smoke that had nearly dissipated—likely the propellant trails of the missiles that had delivered the payloads. “That’s a lot of nukes.”

“It is,” Dickson agreed.

The black clouds eventually faded as they got closer to the storm, leaving empty ocean once more.

“Guess the humans gave up,” Slate said.

Up ahead, the dark line that spanned the ocean from horizon to horizon quickly billowed in size. The camera abruptly zoomed in—Eric wasn’t in control, so Marlborough must have done it. And he could see how the surface of the cloud seemed to undulate and seeth. The magnification increased again, and he saw individual termites set against the dark backdrop of the micro machine storm.

“You know, it’s kind of ironic,” Eagleeye said.

“What’s that?” Tread said.

“Well,” Eagleeye continued. “We’re Cicada models, right? Cicada is a kind of locust. The latter were once a plague upon the earth, covering the sky in black waves as they swept across the continents, stripping regions of all vegetation. And what we’re seeing here is a plague of biblical proportions.”

“Cicada’s aren’t locusts, dude!” Slate said. “Check your database. They’re more like moths.”

“I stand corrected,” Eagleeye said. “I was relying on my human memory, before my internal database. I’ve been doing that more often of late.”

“We all have,” Mickey said. “Since our emotions have been restored, we’d rather rely on the human part, than the machine.”

The zoom level returned to normal, and the horizon-wide storm snapped back into its former position. The curvature of the termite mass matched that of the earth, with the ends wrapped downward on either side.

“I’m having the shuttle head southeast,” Marlborough said. “We’re holding our distance from the storm, meanwhile… I’m trying to get an idea of just how massive this wall of termites is.”

The craft continued south for the next ten minutes. The southern horizon never ended.

“So, according to the preliminary scans returned by the transport, that wall of micro machines spans at least forty-three hundred kilometers,” Marlborough said. “My guess is, it’s at least as long as North America, if not the entire North, Central, and South continents combined.”

“Well then,” Eagleeye said. “I guess that means we’re turning back.”

“For once we agree,” Slate said. “We can’t do anything against this.”

“We can,” Marlborough said. “We have alien technology, remember.”

“Yeah, but we have no guarantee it’ll work against something this size!” Slate said.

“My offer to sit on the sidelines still stands…” Marlborough said.

“Er,” Slate said. “I’m coming. I can’t really sit on the sidelines now, can I? Considering I’m trapped on the same ship as y’all.”

“Dickson, what’s the closest island?” Marlborough said.

“According to the map, we’re well past Hawaii,” Dickson said. “But there are a few smaller islands coming up ahead. I’ll highlight them.”

Eric glanced at his overhead map and zoomed out.

Though they had no GPS satellites to connect to, they still had extremely sensitive equipment inside their AI cores such as gyroscopes and accelerometers that allowed them to calculate their positions with a high degree of accuracy.

Someone had plotted the path of the micro machine storm on the map—probably Dickson—and it appeared as a thick red line above the sea. Beyond it, about a hundred kilometers to the east, were green dots indicating the designated island chain.

“We should be able to fly over the storm and reach the first island with about twenty minutes to spare,” Dickson said. “That should be enough time to set up.”

“All right, take us over the storm,” Marlborough said.

Dickson, in control of the transport, promptly steered due east.

“You know, if we’ve passed Hawaii, even if all satellites are down, we should be in range of any surface-to-air comms that survived on this hemisphere,” Frogger said.

“We probably are, yes,” Mickey said. “But the adhoc communications web formed by the micro machine storm would outpunch any signals, acting as interference. When we’re on the other side of the storm maybe we’ll be able to contact the West Coast. With an emphasis on the word maybe.”

“I’m reading a lot of micro machine outliers above the storm,” Dickson said. “With some groups riding updrafts out to four kilometers above the main storm. I’m going to have to increase our altitude… I want to give the termites at least a seven kilometer clearance.”

“That’ll essentially take us into low orbit,” Frogger said.

“I know,” Dickson told him. “Good thing we’re machines, otherwise it would have been a bit of problem that we didn’t finish printing the system responsible for cabin pressure. Cutting corners, and all.”

“When we cross to the other side of the storm, won’t we have to maintain a similar distance from it, to avoid outliers?” Eric said.

“I’d recommend beginning our plan when the storm front is still seven kilometers away,” Dickson agreed. “To avoid any micro machine forerunners.”

“That only leaves us a short window to reach those islands,” Marlborough said.

“If we miss it, there’s another island chain about two hundred kilometers to the northeast,” Dickson said.

“I’d rather not miss it,” Marlborough said. “The backup island chain is a bit too close to the West Coast for comfort. Get us to the first chain at your best speed.”

Via the external camera, Eric watched the ocean recede below, along with the storm, as the transport increased its altitude. The vessel occasionally shook as it entered pockets of turbulence, but when it closed upon its destination height, all turbulence ended. The atmosphere was too thin up there.

Eric watched as that black, swirling mass slowly approached far below. It truly looked like a storm. A sheer solid wall of black, churning mass. A wall that, if entered, would strip their transport of every last bit of metal, including the polycarbonate-metal composite of Eric and the other Bolt Eater’s bodies.

“I am Shiva, destroyer of worlds,” Brontosaurus said.

“Definitely not something we want to fall into,” Slate said. “Hey Dickson, should we be flying higher, bud?”

“I’ve already been increasing our altitude,” Dickson said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Good,” Slate said. “We can’t get far enough away from that mess. All it takes is one termite infecting our transport, and this vessel goes bye-bye.”

The craft seemed to slow down above the storm, but only because the cloud was so thick, covering at least ten kilometers in width.

“How the hell did the aliens duplicate so many machines?” Traps said.

“There are a lot of cities between Cape Horn and Shanghai,” Frogger said. “And a helluva lot of metal. It’s possible they did some mining along the way. Excepting of course the iron mine Bokerov had holed up inside.”

In a moment they had passed over the storm, and crossed over onto the other side. The ocean was empty before them, all the way to the chain of islands ahead.

“All right, setting course for the islands, and issuing air brakes,” Dickson said. “Hold on.”

Eric shifted to the left, sliding against Massacre beside him, while Slaughter pressed into him on the right.

The transport left the storm front behind, and slowly descended, bleeding off speed. Eric studied the storm from this side.

“Look at that,” Eric said. “Notice all those tendrils in front of the main body?”

“They look like a bunch of tentacles,” Frogger said.

“More like the protoplasmic extensions of an amoeba or something,” Crusher said.

“Zoom in on them, Dickson,” Bambi said.

He did so. Eric could see the individual termites composing each extension.

“They’re still micro machines,” Bambi said.

“Strange how they extend them like that, as if they’re feelers or something,” Traps said.

“Not feelers,” Dunnigan said. “Remember what my lieutenant colonel told you? How the termites protected themselves against ICBMs launched at them? They use these extensions to seek out and trigger any nukes before they reach the main body. It seems to be working quite well for them, given the clouds we saw behind us.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Tread said.

“Uh, speaking of nukes,” Slate said. “We might have a wee problem. Take a look at the forward cam.”

“Fuck,” Dickson said.

“Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is?” Marlborough said.

“Yep, it’s what you think it is,” Eagleeye said.

Eric switched to the forward camera, and was shocked by what he saw. The sky was covered with dark dots; each of them left an arcing trail of gray smoke behind them that looped out of view past the horizon. There were hundreds of those dots and their matching arc trails. Maybe thousands. Beyond them, he could see more dots cresting the far horizon, where a second wave was coming in.

“Uh, guess the humans haven’t given up after all,” Eagleeye said.

“They’ve spaced them in waves,” Tread said. “My guess is, they’re trying to compensate for the kamikaze tendrils formed ahead of the main termite swarm. Whether or not they’ll be successful or not is another story.”

“So many nukes,” Bambi said. “They’re going to start a nuclear winter.”

“That’s typical human behavior,” Crusher said. “If humanity can’t have the planet, then no one can.”

“It’s because of the males that run the government,” Bambi said. “They’re all warmongers.”

“That’s right, blame the males,” Slate said. “Need I remind you that you two females are among the meanest killers I’ve ever seen?”

“Why would they do this?” Crusher said, ignoring the comment. “The world is going to freeze from all the fallout.”

“My guess is the government figures they can develop technology to offset a nuclear winter,” Frogger said. “Whereas if they don’t destroy the termite swarm, then no technology will save them.”

The team was currently cutting across the path of the storm; below them, one of the tendrils spiraled outward rapidly, moving well ahead of the front.

“Whoa, where did they get the energy to move that fast?” Eric said.

“Maybe the termites can combine, and form other structures,” Brontosaurus said. “Like a launch cannon.”

“Either that, or they’re already carrying some sort of accelerator in their midst,” Mickey said.

The termite spear struck the closest nuke in front of them.

“Uh,” Slate said as the massive cloud began to form.

The transport was directly in its path.

“Dickson, evasive maneuvers!” Marlborough said. “Get us out of here!”

Dickson banked the craft hard, and Eric slammed into Slaughter this time, while Massacre hit him on the opposite side.

“This is why I never fly coach, people!” Slate quipped.

All of a sudden the entire cabin tilted sideways. A klaxon sounded; Eric experienced weightlessness. There was no feeling of nausea in his stomach, or anything like that: he just floated upward.

“We’ve been enveloped by the blast wave,” Dickson said. “It’s tipped us over. Probably a good thing—the heat shield underneath the body is the only thing protecting us at the moment.”

Eric tried to access an external camera, but saw only darkness. Dickson would be flying by LIDAR at the moment.

Gravity returned a moment later and Eric hit the ceiling. Other Cicadas dropped onto him from behind.

“Ugh!” Slate said. “Damn it, Frogger.”

“That was Tread,” Frogger said.

The alarm continued, sounding louder to Eric.

“Dickson...” Marlborough said.

“Almost got it...” Dickson said.

“If we hit the termite storm, we’re toast...” Brontosaurus said.

“Hitting the water isn’t any better,” Slate said.

“We’re waterproof up to five hundred meters,” Crusher said.

“Yeah, about that, we might be waterproof, but we’re not buoyant!” Slate told her.

“Anyone have any last confessions to make, since it seems we’re about to die?” Hicks said.

“Hey Eagleeye, I was sleeping with Vicky before you dumped her,” Slate said.

“What?” Eagleeye said. “You were the one who she was cheating on me with?”

“Uh huh,” Slate said.

“Damn it!” Eagleeye said. “I knew it! I’d kick your ass if we weren’t dead.”

“Who’s Vicky?” Frogger said.

“His virtual girlfriend,” Slate said.

“She’s human,” Eagleeye said. “I met her in VR between the last deployment. We never met in real life.”

“Anyone else?” Hicks said.

“I’m in love with Crusher,” Tread said.

“What?” Crusher said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Tread said.

“Nice,” Slate said. “I’ve always had the hots for Crusher myself, but can’t say I loved her. I’ve never loved any human being, in fact. Despite all the ladies I’ve been with.”

“What about the fembot you froze yourself with?” Eagleeye said.

“I loved her, of course,” Slate said. “But you’ll notice I said I’ve never loved any human being.”

“Hey,” Duncan said. “The G forces are so bad right now, that if we were human, we would have blacked out already.”

“I think we really are going to die,” Eagleeye said. “It was nice knowing you all.”

The external cameras cleared. Eric caught sight of the ocean, fast coming up below.

Eric was jerked back down as the cabin righted.

“Got it,” Dickson said.

The craft righted itself, and the ocean became level underneath them.

The incessant klaxon ended.

They were so low that behind them, tidal waves of water shot into the air in their wake. That meant they were still going extremely fast. Eric could see the expanding shock wave of the nuclear explosion behind them; it seemed to have stopped its advance, actually.

More explosions erupted ahead, and to the right, as more termite tendrils detonated the weapons early. Dickson turned east, gaining altitude once more, moving away from the ocean. He was plotting a course between the incoming missile waves.

Eric glanced at his overhead map. “We’ve overshot the island chain.”

“We have,” Dickson said. “We can’t go back now anyway. The whole chain was hit by one of the nukes. There won’t be anything left of it. I’m headed toward the next chain.”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Slate said. “Maybe we can use the transport to act as our island, and just hover in place while we deploy the alien tech.”

“We talked about this before,” Dickson said. “The transport won’t be able to withstand the competing forces acting upon it. It’ll be torn apart. We’d need something military grade.”

“Head for the next island chain,” Marlborough said. “We have no choice.”

A new klaxon sounded. This one was slightly deeper in tone.

“What now?” Marlborough said.

“Got some bad news,” Dickson said. “The last nuke sprayed us with termites caught in the blast. We got a whole swarm of micro machines forming just inside the port fuselage. It’ll spread to the cabin in about five minutes, at this rate.”

22

Eric couldn’t help the dread that suffused him. They had five minutes before the micro machines began to consume them. The only other option was to evacuate the transport, but jumping into the ocean was the same as death: they’d sink right to the bottom.

“Maybe we can electrify our skins and repel them all,” Slate said.

“Good luck with that,” Eagleeye said. “This transport has enough metal to create a swarm capable of draining your battery long before then. Besides, as soon as they eat away the floor, we got nowhere to go. Assuming they don’t digest the engines first.”

“I need some options, people,” Marlborough said.

“Can we return to the island chain?” Eric said. “Even if a nuke hit it, we’ll be able to handle the radiation… there might be some caves or other natural formations we can hide inside until the micro machines lose interest.”

“Even if there’s anything left of it,” Marlborough said. “We’ll have a helluva time finding any caves before the termite storm front arrives."

“This is interesting…” Dickson said.

“What have you got?” Marlborough asked.

“I’m receiving several ID signals,” Dickson replied.

“ID signals?” Marlborough said.

“That’s right. It’s from a human fleet. Forty-five kilometers ahead. Identifying themselves, I’ve got warships, an aircraft carrier, and a couple of nuclear submarines that apparently just surfaced. They’re fleeing the storm, it looks like. Well, and the nuclear strikes.”

“Send our own ID signals,” Marlborough said. “Make sure they don’t shoot us down!”

“I’ve dispatched the necessary military ID codes,” Mickey said. “Awaiting response…” A moment later: “They’ve confirmed our ID.”

“Good,” Marlborough said. “Dickson, set a course for that fleet, maximum speed. Mickey, Initiate comms.”

“I’ve got an Admiral Terrence James Grass III on the line,” Mickey said.

“This is Sergeant First Class Marlborough of the Bolt Eaters,” the Sarge said. “We’ve come a long way. We don’t have much time. We’ve got some alien tech aboard.”

“Bolt Eaters, did you say?” the admiral returned. “Never heard of you.”

“We’re an elite unit of Mind Refurbs, deployed in the Middle East,” Marlborough said.

“Ah, now I’ve heard of you,” the admiral said. “How the hell did you survive what happened there?”

“It’s a long story,” Marlborough said. “As I was saying, we’re short on time. But we’ve got some alien tech aboard that can stop this storm. We need a stable site where we can use it. We were thinking about your aircraft carrier...”

“I’m not sure I want alien tech aboard my flagship,” the admiral said.

“Well, we need a site with some mass, and the aircraft carrier fits the bill,” Marlborough said. “And unless you have any others in your flotilla, the flagship has to be where we land.”

“Tell me about this so-called alien tech, and what you intend to do,” the admiral said.

“I’m transmitting detailed specs on the tech now,” Marlborough said. “We’ve captured one of the micro machines, and two alien weapons.” He proceeded to explain his plan.

Admiral Grass didn’t answer immediately. Then: “You’re cleared for landing on the flagship.”

“Actually, we can’t land, per se,” Marlborough said. “This transport is infected with micro machines. We got maybe another four minutes until the termites breach the cabin. We’re going to have to transfer to your flagship the old fashioned way: by jumping.”

“Gotta love a good rappel without a rope!” Slate commented.

“You’re infected?” the admiral said. “I can’t let you aboard if you’re infected.”

“None of us personally are infected,” Marlborough said. “Our transport is. We’re going to ditch it after we board the flagship.”

“I don’t want that transport anywhere near my ship,” the admiral said. “I’ll send one of the Poseidons to get you.” A Poseidon was a small, autonomous warship that packed a deadly punch. “Once you’ve ditched the transport, and the AI confirms you’re clean, then you can rendezvous with my ship and board with this alien tech of yours.”

“Roger that,” Marlborough said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do,” Grass said. “Whether or not it’s more than what we’ve been able to achieve up until this point remains to be seen, however. Admiral out.”

“How long until the termites reach the cabin?” Marlborough asked Dickson.

“Three minutes now,” Dickson replied.

“And how long until we reach the fleet?” Marlborough pressed.

“Also three minutes,” Dickson said.

“We’re going to be cutting it damn close,” Marlborough said.

“We always do, Sarge,” Slate said. “But that’s the way we like it.”

“No we don’t,” Eagleeye said. “Speak for yourself!”

The transport dove; overhead, ICBMs continued to arc through the sky, heading toward the storm in the distance behind them.

The craft leveled out at an altitude of a thousand meters; it moved rapidly, traveling at top speed.

Eric accessed the external nose cam, and watched as the fleet came up.

“I’m receiving telemetry,” Dickson said. “All right, got the Poseidon. I’m highlighting it on the overhead map.”

Eric glanced at his map. The transport was headed for a small green dot that had moved away from the others.

“We don’t need a gentle ride,” Marlborough said. “I want you to get as close as you can before cutting speed. We can’t afford to waste even a few seconds. Understood?”

“You got it,” Dickson said.

“How are we doing on the termite infection?” Marlborough asked.

“They’re multiplying rapidly,” Dickson replied. “They’ve almost reached the cabin.”

“Will we make it?” Marlborough said.

“I don’t know,” Dickson said. “I think so. I hope so.”

The Poseidon quickly approached on the external cam. It reminded Eric of navy vessels from his day, though it was maybe a little smaller—it had strange, sharp angles at the front and back. The starboard and port flanks curved upward until they met at the middle and formed a long dorsal fin that ran the length of the ship. His military database told him those were stealth features meant to evade radar and LIDAR.

Dickson abruptly slammed on the air brakes and fired reverse thrust at the same time. All the robots were jerked forward, slamming into the forward wall, and each other.

“Woohoo!” Slate said. “Can we do it again? Pretty please!”

“I got us hovering over the warship,” Dickson said. “I’ve lowered us to safe jumping distance.”

“Open up the ramp!” Marlborough said. “Bolt Eaters, we’re exiting the building!”

Mickey approached the edge. “Safe jumping distance? It’s about a hundred meters down!”

“Just jump, bro!” Slate shoved him off, and leaped after him. They dropped onto the small walkway located on the fin that ran the length of the warship, and quickly moved out of the way to allow the next team members to land.

Eric let the smaller robots jump off first, followed by Massacre and Slaughter. When the last Ravager was gone, he stepped down the ramp.

Dickson had left the transport hovering in place, running in autonomous mode. It had instructions to remain in place until the last of them had leaped off, and then it was to crash directly into the ocean, about a hundred meters off the rear of the Poseidon.

Unfortunately, the transport decided to initiate the crash early.

Eric guessed that was because the termites had taken one of the engines offline. Which would make sense, given that an alarm had sounded at the same time the transport careened precariously backwards.

Eric was taken off guard, and thrown away from the ramp. Before he could switch to Bullet Time, he had already smashed into the opposite wall. He sensed motion beside him, and saw that termites had eaten through the metal surface and were entering the cabin, devouring as they went. He activated his jumpjets, heading toward the open ramp, when he was thrown once again, this time smashing into the forward section of the cabin. Water began to spew inside from the open ramp.

He activated Bullet Time and jetted away from the termites and toward the opening, but hit a solid wall of water. The transport’s momentum had already carried it underwater.

Eric thrust into the sea; his jumpjets promptly shut down—the design on these particular mechs wasn’t suited for underwater operation.

He oriented himself toward the surface with the help of his gyroscopes, and pushed off from the sinking transport. He tried moving his arms and legs in an attempt to swim, but it was no use—he was simply too heavy.

Mechs and robots didn’t float.

He sunk, along with the transport behind him.

Eric couldn’t believe he was going to end this way. Drowned in the ocean, only a few moments away from saving the world.

No, my team won’t let me die.

The surface was only about twenty meters above him. So close, and yet so far. That distance became greater as he watched. Thirty meters. Forty.

His conviction that the team would save him began to waver, and for a moment he despaired.

But then motion drew his eye toward a figure jetting toward him at a diagonal angle from the surface.

Eric slumped in relief. That’s right, he was a Ravager mech, and he was slumping in relief.

“I gotcha, mate,” Dunnigan transmitted.

“Thank you,” Eric said. Hopper models evidently had jetpacks capable of undersea operation.

When Dunnigan reached him, he wrapped a carbon fiber cord around him. “Got this secured to an industrial grade winch on the Poseidon. Basically, we disconnected one of the ship’s anchors to get access to the cord alone.”

“So I’m the anchor now, you’re saying,” Eric said. “Wonderful.”

“I always liked you American blokes,” Dunnigan said. “Mostly because you’re able to maintain your sense of humor even during a crisis. Marlborough, take us up.”

“Reeling you boys in,” Marlborough said over the comm.

Eric felt a diagonal pull, and he was drawn rapidly through the ocean.

Eric surfaced near the prow, just above the water line. Dunnigan detached the carbon fiber cord. Eric’s jumpjets hadn’t recovered yet, so he climbed the tiny metal rungs meant for humans and smaller robots; he skipped three of them at a time, and gripped them with the tips of his big fingers.

Almost like mountain climbing.

Those rungs led to the top of the fin formed by the starboard and port flanks. When he reached it, he pulled himself onto the thin walkway on top and rejoined the waiting team.

Dunnigan had already reached the top, thanks to his jetpack.

Eric turned toward the Hopper. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Of course,” Dunnigan said. “I had to. We can’t lose your energy launcher after all.”

“Ah. That somehow cheapens the rescue.”

“I know,” Dunnigan said. “But that’s all you get from us English robots. The truth, and only the truth.”

The autonomous warship accelerated toward the main fleet. Overhead, the stream of nukes subsided. Eric glanced at the horizon behind him, and saw the different black clouds that had appeared near the horizon, where the termite swarm was a thin black line that enveloped the ocean from north to south. The clouds looked mushroom-shaped when viewed from the ocean surface.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Traps said.

“It’s not something I thought I’d ever see,” Bambi said. “Not something I’d want anyone to see.”

“No, it’s not,” Dickson said. “What you’re witnessing, people, is quite literally the end of times. And we’re the only ones who can stop it.”

“Maybe,” Eagleeye said. “There’s no guarantee our plan will work.”

“No,” Dickson said. “But it’s the only shot we have.”

“Ah man!” Slate said. “I’m so frickin’ excited. I just love using alien technology against the same aliens that made it! Man, I love it! I only wish I could see the faces of those chickenshit bitches that are hiding behind the moon… when they realize what we’ve done, they’re going to go poopy in their pants!”

“Just like you’re already doing now?” Eagleeye said.

“I’m not poopin’ my pants, bitch!” Slate said.

“Could have fooled me,” Eagleeye said.

“Why, I’m going to knock you right off this ship.” Slate charged forward.

But Marlborough intercepted him. “At ease, Corporal.”

“Yes, Sarge,” Slate said, shrinking away. “You know we was just playing, right?”

The warship weaved between the other autonomous vessels composing the fleet, and in a few moments, the Poseidon reached the aircraft carrier that served as the flagship. The design was similar to carriers from Eric’s day, except the aircraft were completely different. They were all essentially big multi-rotors, similar to the transport, except that instead of four motors, there were eight. It was an octocopter fanatic’s wet dream. Eric used to have a Phantom IV, which was a small commercial quadcopter relatively popular in his day, but he would have killed to get his hands on one of these.

The Poseidon positioned itself alongside the flagship, and, using their robot strength, the Bolt Eaters leaped across in turn to the edge of the flight deck, which had been cleared for them.

A ten-robot team waited nearby, watching their every move. The fact that they all had retractable laser weapons—currently deployed—embedded into both forearms indicated they were MAs—masters-at-arms. An ID scan confirmed as much. They were likely autonomous units, and had to be babysat by a Mind Refurb or human operator before they could fire. The MAs, while slightly intimidating with those weapons, had nothing on the sheer menace of the Cicadas, who were all at least two heads taller. Not to mention the Ravager mechs, double their size. That would explain why some of the deck cannons had been reoriented toward the team. The muzzles on those cannons were lowered, but they could be lifted to target the team in a heartbeat.

23

When Eric and the Ravagers had joined the Cicadas and other robots aboard, the MAs parted to allow a man dressed in a white admiral’s uniform to approach.

Admiral Grass didn’t seem intimidated by the Cicadas and the bigger Ravagers in the least; though of course, he had four MAs of his own escorting him. Plus, the turrets on the nearby deck cannons remained fixed on the team.

The admiral walked right up to Marlborough, who stood at the forefront of the Bolt Eaters.

“So this is what Mind Refurbs look like,” the admiral said. “I’ve seen a few early models, of course, but they weren’t war models. Not like you.” He waved a hand dismissively beside his head. “But you haven’t come here to chatter. You claim you can save the world. Let’s see this alien technology of yours.”

Marlborough nodded at Eric, who commanded Massacre to turn around. Accompanied by the four MAs, the admiral walked up to the Ravager, and peered at the termite that was bound in between the parallel plates.

“Other fleets have reported capturing micro machines in a similar fashion,” the admiral said. “Usually at the loss of several ships. So far, this is the first I’ve heard that anyone has been able to trigger their adhoc communication systems. I’m sure it’s happened, but the news hasn’t been reported to us.”

The admiral walked toward the next mech. Eric had Slaughter bend over slightly, so that the double-barreled canon on the back was more visible. Then he glanced at Eric, who oriented the shoulder that carried the energy launcher toward the man.

The admiral nodded. “I reviewed the detailed report you sent on how you acquired and reprogrammed these weapons. I can see the brain tissue you mentioned, hanging down. That tissue hasn’t degraded at all?”

“It hasn’t,” Marlborough said. “In the report, I mention how the tissue is self sustaining, with specialized cells containing chlorophyll to serve as a backup energy source, in case of injury.”

The admiral shook his head. “I could only imagine how advanced these aliens must be, to create such incredible sophisticated bioweapons in such a short time. And yet they failed to properly lock us out. This is what you call a design failure, probably a consequence of their short production time. Simple hubris was another factor influencing that design, no doubt.”

The admiral stepped away from Eric and returned to the front of the Bolt Eaters to stand before Marlborough.

“I’ve been in touch with Central Command,” the admiral continued. “They’ve agreed not to launch more nukes at the storm until we’ve had a chance to do what we need to do.”

“What kind of a window are we talking about?” Marlborough asked.

“They’ve given us two hours,” Admiral Grass said.

“We’ll need a lot more than that,” Marlborough said.

“They’ll be monitoring the situation from shore and updating appropriately,” the admiral said. “I’ll also stay in touch—we’ve got ships spread out all the way between here and shore, with comm nodes ready to act as repeaters. Feel free to begin, whenever you’re ready. I’ve already issued evacuation orders to my crew. They’ll be transferring to the other vessels, which I’ve instructed to leave the area. Most of the stations on this ship are manned by autonomous robots anyway, so there aren’t very many crew to evacuate. We’ll keep two aircraft behind to service your plan, of course. I know you only asked for one, but I always like to keep a backup.”

“Smart policy,” Marlborough said. “Which of these aircraft are you leaving us?”

“Two of the octos,” Admiral Grass said.

Marlborough glanced at a pair of nearby octocopter transports. “The military grade fuselages should be able to withstand the forces we’re going to inflict... though I’m a bit worried that the rotors will be up to par.”

“The rotors are rated to withstand the stresses you transmitted,” the admiral said. “As is the fuselage.”

“I hope you’re right,” Marlborough said. “I guess we’re good. But what about you? You’re evacuating as well, of course?”

The admiral grinned. “I’m staying with you, along with the captain. We’re here to the bitter end, for good or for bad. Besides, someone needs to man the weapons.”

“We Mind Refurbs have full fire autonomy,” Marlborough said. “We can operate any turret you have aboard.”

“All the same, the captain and I have elected to stay,” Admiral Grass said.

“Sarge, can you get me permission to top up?” Eric asked Marlborough on a private line. “You never know when jumpjets will come in handy. Well, as soon as my waterlogged units dry out.”

“I’d like permission to refuel my Ravagers,” Marlborough promptly related to the admiral.

“Granted,” Admiral Grass replied.

Eric walked toward one of the nearby fueling ports reserved for the octocopters; the port had a universal nozzle, and attached easily to his jumpjet. He had Slaughter and Massacre attach nozzles as well.

As Eric waited to refuel, he gazed at the surrounding ocean: already, the nearby ships had begun to depart.

On the flight deck of the flagship itself, he saw robots and human crewmembers rushing to board the different octocopters; those craft took to the air, and headed toward nearby vessels. Several autonomous bombers also began queuing for lift off as well.

“All right, boys and girls,” Marlborough said when Eric and the Ravagers had finished refueling. “It’s time to show these aliens we don’t appreciate being invaded. We head to the aft section!”

Accompanied by the admiral and his escort, the Bolt Eaters wended their way between the different aircraft still parked on the flight deck, and then passed the tower containing the bridge and flight control.

The admiral left them at the tower to make his way to the bridge. Meanwhile, the team continued rearward.

They reached the aft quarter, and stood behind the six inch high scuppers that overlooked the sea. The dark line of the storm on the horizon hadn’t changed in size—the flagship mirrored the speed of the micro machines. The termite storm had swallowed some of the more distant mushroom clouds, however.

“All right, we’re in place, Admiral,” Marlborough transmitted.

“I’m ordering the captain to cut our speed by half,” the admiral responded.

The minutes ticked passed. Eric watched as the thin band on the horizon grew to a towering, swirling black storm.

“If I were human, I’d probably be vomiting right now,” Traps said.

“That’s because you’re a wuss,” Slate said.

“I think we all feel the same, Traps,” Bambi said.

“No we don’t,” Slate said. “Ooo wee, I’m so looking forward to this. These bitches are going to pay for what they’ve done. We’re gonna shove them up their own assholes!”

“Uh, the micro machines don’t have assholes,” Mickey said.

“Yeah whatever,” Slate said. “I was speaking metaphorically. ’Sides, when we’re done with them, assholes will be all that they have!”

Marlborough waited until the storm front was seven kilometers away. By then, it literally reached to the top of the sky, and nearly blotted out the sun. Several tentacles advanced ahead of the main storm, acting as feelers ready to destroy any nukes or other bombs they thought the humans might toss at them.

The crew had all evacuated by then, and the rest of the fleet had moved well away to the east. Marlborough had obtained permission to receive positional updates from the rest of the fleet, and he shared it with the Bolt Eaters; Eric glanced at the overhead map, and saw that the warships remained just above the eastern horizon, ready to reverse course if needed. Overhead, the bombers from the flagship hovered at high altitude, well above the height of the storm, also ready to intervene as necessary.

“All right, that’s close enough,” Marlborough said. “The admiral’s reporting that there are thousands of outliers ahead of the main storm and its projected tentacles. We can’t see them, but the precision LIDAR units of the flagship are picking them up, starting at roughly two kilometers away. It’s time to shake things up. Mickey, call our alien friends.”

Mickey had his customized LIDAR unit secured in a contraption he’d attached to Massacre’s back near the parallel plates of the containment field; it was pointed at the termite suspended between them.

“LIDAR unit is activated,” Mickey said.

Eric couldn’t see any difference, because the wavelength of the emitted high-energy photons was well beyond the visual spectrum.

“Is our termite transmitting?” Marlborough said.

“It is,” Mickey said. “The termite is calling its friends.”

“Now we see how they respond,” Marlborough said.

The minutes ticked past. Nothing seemed to happen, except the storm continued to approach.

“See?” Slate said. “I told you this wouldn’t work. It’s probably going to bring down a shit-ton of those diamond ships on us, though. But that’s about it.”

“Admiral, match the speed of the storm again, please,” Marlborough transmitted. “We don’t need any of those outlying termites to reach the flagship.”

“Increasing speed,” the admiral returned.

Marlborough glanced at Mickey. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Mickey said. “I’m detecting multiple echoes of the termite’s transmission from the storm, which tells me that the other termites have picked it up, and are retransmitting. But they’re not acting on it themselves. Slate could be right… the signal could be intended for the diamond ships we encountered earlier. Maybe we’ll see more of them shortly.”

“Not quite what we wanted…” Marlborough said.

“No,” Mickey said. “Let me make some adjustments… tweak the frequency a little bit.”

Again, nothing happened.

“This is such bullshit,” Slate said. “We came all this way for nothing."

“Not for nothing,” Marlborough said. “We had to try, and you know it. But we still have Plan B.”

“Opening wormholes all along the storm front?” Tread said.

“That’s right,” Marlborough said.

“But we already agreed that we wouldn’t be able to cover the full distance in time,” Slate said. “Some of the termites will still make landfall.”

“Yes,” Marlborough said. “But would you rather we did nothing?”

All of a sudden the storm to the north and south began to billow and shift. The black masses there swerved inward, toward the flagship; Eric was reminded of cumulonimbus clouds forming as hot air met cold, except these were no ordinary clouds.

“Okay, that did it,” Mickey said. “I finally found a higher frequency that got their attention.”

“Keep transmitting on that frequency,” Marlborough said. “Draw all the bastards in.”

“Will do,” Mickey said. He paused. “From the echoes, I can confirm that the micro machines have picked up the signal, and are retransmitting it up and down their ranks. The entire storm front from North to South America will soon be folding inward, bearing down on our position.”

“Brings whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘careful what you wish for,’” Slate said.

“All right, Scorpion,” Marlborough said. “Open up the wormhole.”

24

Eric accessed the double-barreled cannon on Slaughter’s back, and directed the crosshairs over the ocean behind the ship. He tilted the aim upward, and then fired.

The bolt launched.

Eric was relieved that the neural tissue still functioned, because neither he nor anyone else knew how long the makeshift connection would actually last.

When the bolt was a hundred meters away on the diagonal plane, it vanished. The tear in reality replaced it, distorting the air roughly seventy meters directly above the water. The ocean below seethed and rocked from the tidal forces, but because of the distance the wormhole resided from the sea, the surface tension, along with the density of the water, prevented any of the liquid from actually being siphoned upward. The water directly below did form a visible hump, however.

Eric could feel the wind pick up, and the flag upon the carrier whipped backward, toward the wormhole.

“All right,” Marlborough said. “That’s not bad for a first run. Admiral, let’s put some distance between ourselves and that wormhole, please.”

“Understood,” the admiral said. “By the way, it’s one thing to hear the weapon described, and to watch footage of it in action, but another thing entirely to witness it firsthand.”

“It certainly is,” Marlborough agreed.

“Why do you call it a wormhole, anyway?” the admiral said. “Because technically if it was a wormhole, wouldn’t that mean it enabled travel to somewhere else? It’s more like a black hole, I think.”

“For our purposes, you’re right,” Marlborough said. “But the name stuck.”

“I see,” the admiral said. “I’m letting the fleet know it’s time for them to go.”

The ship moved away from the wormhole.

“All right, people, magnetize your soles,” Marlborough addressed the platoon.

Eric and the others magnetized their feet, gluing themselves to the deck as a precaution.

Meanwhile, the ship continued to travel away from the wormhole. According to the overhead map, the remaining ships of the fleet were moving well beyond the horizon, putting as much distance between themselves and the flagship as possible.

At the five hundred meter mark Marlborough said: “All right, by my calculations, based on the previous effects of the wormhole, and the speed of the ship, this will be our sweet spot for the time being. Scorpion, enlarge the wormhole.”

Eric charged his energy launcher for a full twenty seconds, and the cannon grew successively brighter until the illumination it emitted was blinding. Smoke began to issue from Eric’s shoulder.

He aimed the weapon crosshairs that overlaid his HUD at the rent in reality, and fired.

A thick beam of energy erupted, colliding with the wormhole five hundred meters behind. The tear in reality enlarged to a black sphere the size of a thumbnail. The wind increased, and the hump on the water below rose even higher.

“Again,” Marlborough ordered. “I want the water touching the wormhole.”

Eric kept firing until the wormhole had grown to the size of a bowling ball. By then the pull had increased dramatically, with hurricane force winds gusting past him toward the tear in reality. He was firmly rooted to the deck, of course, thanks to the magnetization of his soles.

The hump of water had risen the full seventy-five meters into the air so that it was touching the gravity well, and feeding it—which would cause the wormhole to slowly enlarge over time without Eric having to fire.

The boat had tilted upward along with the surrounding water as well, but the admiral was able to maintain their five hundred meter distance from the wormhole.

For now.

“Nature’s version of a perpetual motion machine,” Slate said over the comm. “Gotta love it.” He spoke over the comm even though the team was in close proximity to him: the howling wind essentially necessitated it. Eric had engaged active noise canceling so he could hear him better.

“That’s not a perpetual motion machine,” Eagleeye said, also over the comm.

“Is too,” Slate said.

“Nope,” Eagleeye said. “By definition, a perpetual motion machine runs forever. But once this wormhole is finished gobbling up the Earth, it’ll simply orbit the sun.”

“Yeah okay,” Slate said.

“By your definition, planetary motion is a perpetual motion machine,” Eagleeye said. “It—”

“Shut it!” Slate said.

They waited, watching as the storm came in.

“Now for the moment of truth,” Traps said. “We’ll see if this little transmission overrides any danger sense the micro machines might have.”

But apparently it did not, because the swarm kept coming.

Small flashes appeared around the bowling ball of infinite blackness. They were infinitely tiny, and barely noticeable.

“You see those flashes?” Tread said. “Those are the outliers hitting the wormhole.”

“Zap zap little mosquitos!” Slate said.

More and more of the termites began to strike the wormhole. The tendrils ahead of the main storm were swept inward, and sucked inside the gravity well, so that large swathes were devoured entirely.

As that wall of black seething micro machines towered above him, eating up the sky and sun, a roar even louder than the wind filled Eric’s hearing. It reminded him of a freight train.

That wall curved inward on all sides, and overhead, it even hung over the flagship, but as the micro machines descended toward the communication source—the sole termite trapped in the containment field—invariably, they were swept inward, and toward the wormhole. It was almost like an invisible, elliptical dome protected the flagship from the termites.

The invisible dome remained in place as the storm arrived. Termites were sucked into the wormhole constantly, further feeding the tear in reality, so that it slowly enlarged. The admiral accelerated the ship away to the one kilometer mark from the wormhole, because the gravity well was strong enough to prevent the swarm from reaching them even at that distance. However, by the time he reached one kilometer out, the ship had slowed to a crawl, even though he was accelerating at top speed. And then the carrier began to reverse course, slowly proceeding toward the wormhole.

The ocean behind them had formed a sort of swirling plateau around the black hole, as thick as any rock plateau one might find in nature. The water all around the boat was flowing backwards.

“We’re going to have to switch to the octos soon,” the admiral said over the comm. “At this rate, we’ll be sucked into the wormhole in half an hour.”

“We’ll start making our way to the octos immediately,” Marlborough said. “I expect you and the captain to be waiting for us. We need to put some distance between ourselves and the wormhole before it becomes impossible even for the high-powered aircraft to withstand the pull.”

Eric and the others adjusted the magnetization on their soles so they could begin making their way toward the flight deck. Eric released the magnetization every time he wanted to lift a foot, then re-magnetized the sole when he set it down.

In that way he slowly made his way past the tower superstructure, and then across the empty flight deck to the waiting octocopter. There were two, but the team only needed one, and they headed toward the one on the right, where the admiral was standing on the ramp and waving.

“Captain’s already inside,” the admiral said. He was wearing thick boots—likely magnetic—and he held onto the railing on the ramp.

“What happened to your MA escort?” Marlborough asked.

“The robots have elected to go down with the ship,” the admiral said.

By then, the massive fronts on the north and south had folded well inward, so that both the northern and southern horizons were filled with the blackness of the machines; they surrounded the transport, forming a horseshoe-like shape. They were invariably sucked away one kilometer off of both flanks, diverting toward the wormhole.

“You know, I can’t believe it, but this harebrained plan looks like it’s actually going to work!” Slate said. “Assuming we can actually dispel the wormhole and don’t end up destroying the planet!”

“We’ll dispel it,” Dickson said.

The admiral slowly pulled himself up the ramp as the team arrived. Eric waited for the Cicadas and smaller robots to board, then he followed with the Ravagers.

“I want this ramp to stay open,” Marlborough said. “Scorpion, you and Slaughter will stay close to the entrance. We need you ready to fire the dispersion bolt.”

“Roger that,” Eric said.

While it would be several hours yet before the entire storm was engulfed, it would be up to Eric to keep the wormhole a manageable size while the termites continued to feed it.

When Eric reached the top of the ramp, he turned around, and planted himself in place with his magnetic mounts. He also applied a hand to the surface beside him, and also magnetized it. He ordered Slaughter to assume a similar position on the opposite side of the entrance across from him, and the Ravager obeyed, mounting to the bordering walls and floor. He could see the deck clearly outside, along with a portion of the superstructures beyond.

The engines started up. Eric momentarily switched to an external camera to watch as the big rotors swiveled toward the storm to counter the pull as it took off. In a few moments they were airborne, and hovering above the flight deck, which slowly receded underneath them.

The admiral flew the aircraft high enough so that the superstructures below had enough clearance to slide past. Meanwhile, the overhanging eave of micro machines from the storm was only about three hundred meters above them.

“That’s a bit too close for me,” Marlborough said. “When we’ve cleared the ship, take us closer to the water.”

“I’m relaying the order to the captain,” the admiral said over the comm. He was situated in the cockpit on the far side of the cabin, strapped in with the captain.

“Also, I want that other octo in the air,” Marlborough said. “Switch control over to my team.”

“It’s yours,” the admiral said.

“I’m giving control to you, Slate,” Marlborough said. “Get it airborne.”

“With pleasure,” Slate said.

The second octo left the aircraft carrier, and in moments was hovering alongside the first. When the ship moved out of the way below, the two aircraft descended back toward the ocean, and hovered five meters above it.

“All right Scorpion, that wormhole is big enough,” Marlborough said. “You know what to do.”

Eric accessed the weapon on Slaughter’s back and aimed the crosshairs at the wormhole, which was currently eight hundred meters away. It was buried inside the plateau of water that swirled around it, forming a dark smear near the top. He was a bit worried that the bolt wouldn’t penetrate the surrounding liquid…

He fired.

25

Eric need not have feared, because the dispersion bolt passed through the plateau effortlessly. But the aim was slightly off, and the bolt missed the immersed wormhole by a meter.

“These crosshairs need to be tuned,” Eric complained.

“Hey, you’re a sniper,” Brontosaurus said. “You’re used to accounting for drift.”

Eric adjusted his aim, moving the crosshairs slightly above and to the right of the wormhole, and fired again. This time, when the dispersion bolt traveled outward, it glanced the outer section of the wormhole. Good enough.

The flagship meanwhile continued receding toward the wormhole, to its doom.

“I can shrink the wormhole enough to save the flagship…” Eric said.

“Yes,” Marlborough said. “But then these termites will close the noose. I’m not willing to let them come any closer than they are. Already there are some outliers who have been coming a bit too near for comfort, according to the precision LIDAR systems aboard. If we reduce the size of the wormhole even a smidgen further, some of those outliers will begin reaching us. And you know what happens then…”

“Well I got something I’m wondering,” Tread said. “What’s to stop one of the termites from steering around well in front of us, and purposely allowing itself to get sucked in so that it slams right into our octo?”

“This,” Mickey said, patting Massacre. “As long as this continues to transmit, the termites will come straight toward us. They won’t cut in front. And they’ll fly directly to their doom.”

Twenty minutes later the ship was swallowed by the wormhole, and Eric was forced to release another couple of shots to reduce its size.

And so the octos hovered in place like that over the next several hours, maintaining their distance from the wormhole, while the termites continued to congregate on the signal from the captured micro machine.

Eric fired the dispersion bolt occasionally, ensuring that the black sphere at the heart of the gravity well remained smaller than a beach ball.

The engines operated at close to their maximum capacity during that time, keeping the octos fixed in place relative to the wormhole. Two of the rotors on the octocopter burned out from the stress, but the other six kept going strong.

“I don’t like this,” Marlborough said when the second rotor failed. “By my calculations, we need five active rotors to counter the pull.” He glanced toward Slate. “Can we switch to the other octo?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, not with this suction,” Slate said.

“Admiral, has Central Command updated you on the status of the storm?” Marlborough asked.

“They have,” the admiral replied on the comm. “It no longer stretches from pole to pole, but instead has been reduced to the size of a state. It’ll only be another hour, two max, before they’re all gone. They’re ready to fire a wall of nukes at our position if we somehow fail.”

“Not sure a wall of nukes will help at this point,” Marlborough said. “Maybe when we got the termites down to the size of a Metropolis.”

“They’re content to let us do our work,” the admiral said. “And they won’t try anything unless we lose contact.”

“That’s a relief,” Marlborough said. “Somewhat.”

“Still can’t believe we actually did this,” Slate said. “Saving the world, one termite at a time.”

“We haven’t won yet,” Eagleeye said. “Don’t jinx it.”

A few minutes later another rotor failed.

“See!” Eagleeye said.

“Damn it,” Marlborough said. “We’re down to our last rotor.”

“How come only one rotor has failed on the other craft, whereas we got three failures on this one?” Eagleeye said.

“Simple military odds, bro,” Slate said. “The craft your team chooses for the mission is always the craft that is going to fail.”

“More likely we’ve placed it under a higher load,” Tread said. “There are no passengers weighing down the other craft.”

“We can’t stay here…” Marlborough said. “If one more rotor fails, we’re going to be sucked into that wormhole. We have to risk transferring to the other octo.”

“You’re sure we can’t reduce the size of the wormhole just a little bit?” Traps asked.

Eric gazed at the swirling cloud of micro machines above them that blotted out the sky.

“As I told you all, we can’t reduce the size of the wormhole even a smidgen further, or the outlier termites will begin to hit us,” Marlborough said.

“Yeah, but we got electrified hulls,” Slate said. “Some of us do, anyway.”

“Won’t help,” Marlborough said. “They consume the ship, we drop into the drink.” He turned toward Eric. “Have your jumpjets recovered from their little dip in the ocean yet?”

“They have,” Eric said.

“Do you have enough propellant?” Marlborough pressed.

“Between Massacre, Slaughter, and myself, we definitely have enough to transfer the whole team,” Eric said. “Even accounting for the pull from the wormhole.”

“It’s a good thing you reminded me to let you top up on the flagship,” Marlborough said. “What about you, Dunnigan? Can you help?”

“Sorry mate, fetching Scorpion out of the drink drained the last of my propellant,” Dunnigan said. “I would have refueled on the flagship, too, but my tank wasn’t compatible with the plugs.”

“They were universal plugs…” Eric said.

“Yes, universal to the rest of the world,” Dunnigan said. “But we English have a different definition of ‘universal.’ We like to make our own standards…”

“I can share some propellant with you if you really need it,” Eric said. “It should be compatible. But then I won’t be able to ferry everyone back and forth.”

“No, the three Ravagers will do well enough,” Marlborough said. “The admiral, the captain, and Dickson will be your first passengers.”

Eric fired his latest dispersion bolt at the wormhole, and then the two men and the Cicada loaded up; they all made good use of their magnetized gear to prevent themselves from getting sucked away through the open ramp.

When the passengers were in place, Eric leaped out of the vehicle and jetted to the second octo. Slate had left the ramp open.

He had to fire lateral jets to counter the sideways pull of the wormhole, but he reached the second octo soon enough, and jetted onto the ramp. He magnetized his feet in turn as he made his way into the cabin. He lowered the admiral to the floor, and waited for Massacre and Slaughter to deposit their own loads. Then he jetted outside, fighting the winds to return to the first octo.

He and the two Ravagers continued ferrying the team like that, moving back and forth between the two aircraft, until they had transferred everyone, save for Marlborough.

Eric was returning to the ramp to make the final run, when he noticed that the first octo was retreating. He realized that only four of the rotors were spinning. Another had already failed.

Eric checked his fuel levels, and those of the remaining Ravagers. Because Eric would be traveling against the pull on the way back to the octo, he’d use up far more fuel—there wasn’t enough to retrieve Marlborough.

“Sarge!” Eric shouted over the comm. Other Cicadas rushed to the opening to watch the transport retreat.

“I’m sorry, Bolt Eaters,” Marlborough said as the vehicle slowly traveled toward the wormhole. “Looks like I’m not going to see this one through with you after all. We all knew some, or even all of us, could die. It’s somehow fitting that I’m the only one this time around. It was a pleasure to serve with you. Some of you once asked me why I originally froze my mind? I wanted to live forever. I’ve since changed my mind.”

As Eric watched the damaged octo retreat, he realized he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try to save the man.

“Bronto, how much carbon fiber cable do you have in that belt of yours?” Eric asked.

“Not enough to form a line between this ship and that one,” Brontosaurus said.

“Didn’t think so,” Eric said. “What if you combined the cable with spools from the other belts?”

“Running a quick inventory on the spools,” Brontosaurus said. “Mm, this is bad. Half the spools are missing—lost in the different battles we’ve fought. The rest have been damaged in one way or another—we’ve incurred a lot of dents to our exterior shells along the way, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Eric checked his military database for the specs on these particular octocopter models, and confirmed that they weren’t equipped with grappling hooks. Too bad.

“Okay. Bronto, you’re in charge of the alien weapons.” Eric deactivated the mounts that secured the energy weapon to his shoulder, and attached it to the floor of the cabin instead. Then he leaped toward the retreating octo and landed on it.

Brontosaurus landed beside him a moment later.

“What are you doing, Bronto?” Eric asked.

“Buddy system,” Brontosaurus replied.

Eric would have felt the tears welling if he were still human. “But Bronto, my friend, we could die.”

“I know,” Brontosaurus said. “But I couldn’t let you try to save the Sarge alone. I gave control of the wormhole device to Crusher.”

A moment later Bambi landed on the external hull of the octo, along with Crusher.

“Well hello y’all,” Crusher said.

“Bonjour,” Bambi said.

“Guys, no…” Eric said.

“I couldn’t stand back while you risked your life,” Bambi said.

“Neither could I,” Crusher said. “Don’t worry, Traps has control of the alien weapons.”

“It’s not the alien weapon I’m worried about at the moment…” Eric glanced toward the receding octo, and was relieved when no one else attempted to leap across after them.

“Please tell me that what I’m seeing on my overhead map is an error,” Marlborough said. “And that you four fools haven’t leaped onto my octo to join me in death?”

“We’ve leaped,” Eric said. “But we have no intention of joining you in death.”

“Really?” Marlborough said. “Then tell me your plan.”

“Uh, we don’t have one yet,” Eric said.

“When are you going to learn to obey orders?” Marlborough said.

“Technically, you didn’t tell us to stay behind,” Eric said.

He positioned himself underneath the transport, and crawled toward the rotor. “Frogger, any ideas on how we can repair a motor that has burned out?”

“Other than replacing it entirely?” Frogger asked over the comm. “Nope. These particular models have their components fully integrated. You can’t just open them up and change a capacitor or fuse or something. Ordinarily, the devices are completely replaced.”

“Damn,” Eric said. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Admiral, decrease speed. I want you to come alongside us, if possible.”

“I’ll do what I can,” the admiral said. “But I can only come within seven hundred and fifty meters of the wormhole. Any closer than that and we’re past the point of no return. No matter how much thrust I provide, we’ll be sucked, inexorably, into the wormhole.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eric said. He made a quick calculation. “Better hurry it up.”

The second octo approached, a bit more rapidly than Eric was expecting.

Unfortunately, it stopped when it was about ten meters away. Not enough to jump, let alone jet across, given the current suction.

“I’m sorry,” the admiral said. “I’m almost at the point of no return. My engines are firing at maximum output just to maintain this position.”

26

Eric wracked his brain. “There has to be a way to get off this aircraft. We’re so close!”

As the octo began to recede once more, Frogger appeared at the bottom of the second craft’s ramp. From the jerky way he moved, Eric knew he was applying his magnetic mounts as he went. When he reached the bottom, Frogger lowered himself to the edge of the ramp, and wrapped his steel and polycarbonate fingers around the surface, pressing in until he bent the surface inward, and then allowed his body to extend outward, pulled by the wormhole, so that the soles of his feet were pointed directly at Eric.

Dickson came down the ramp next, and then crawled over Frogger; when he reached the leg area, he grabbed onto Frogger’s ankles and similarly allowed the rest of his body to be pulled toward the wormhole—and Eric’s octo.

“They’re forming a bridge!” Eric said. “Team, to the front of the quadcopter! Marlborough, climb out here!”

Eric made his way to the front of the quadcopter, using his magnets liberally. When he was at the very front, he lifted his feet over the edge, and then magnetized the soles, attaching them at an angle. Then he flexed his legs, bending his body forward, until he was standing with his head pointed toward the Cicada bridge forming from the other octo. His servomotors whirred in protest as they struggled to counter gravity, plus the pull behind him, and he managed to maintain his posture, staying stiff as a board.

Brontosaurus crawled over him, followed by Crusher, and Bambi, and finally Marlborough. The five of them formed a long line, with arms extended, and hands wrapped around ankles.

The Savages and Breaches joined in, lengthening the bridge from the second octo until Marlborough wrapped his arms around the ankles of the final Savage.

Eric felt the tension suddenly increase as the second octo began to drag the first, which was still being pulled by the wormhole behind them.

“Let go!” Marlborough said.

Eric released the magnetic mounts, and the tension abruptly ceded. The original octo floated away behind him.

“Your added weight almost pulled us past the point of no return,” the admiral said over the comm. “You released that copter just in time. As it is, we’ll be stuck in this position until we reduce the size of the wormhole. You might as well clamber aboard. If you can.”

Eric made his way hand over hand across the bridge of Cicadas and support robots. He used hips, shoulders, and heads as footholds and handholds. It was kind of handy that most of the robots only had a thin tube for an abdomen, because it made it easy to find purchase on the hips.

“Gah, you’re a heavy bitch,” Slate said as he passed him.

When Eric reached the octo, he pulled himself onto the ramp and waited there to help the others aboard.

“If there’s one thing to be said about you Mind Refurbs, it’s that you’re certainly resourceful,” the admiral commented over the comm.

The robot bridge continued to roll up like that, with those at the rearmost crawling over those in front of them, until everyone was back inside.

Eric scaled the ramp—the pull was slightly worse here, since they were closer to the wormhole—but he made it back inside the cabin without issue. He retrieved the energy cannon from the floor by deactivating the magnets, and reattached it to his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Marlborough said. “Risked your lives like that. One man’s life isn’t worth the lives of an entire platoon. Nor the world.”

“We weren’t putting the world at risk,” Tread said. “Just the platoon. The admiral was ready to jettison the ramp.”

“Is that right, Admiral?” Marlborough asked over the comm.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Admiral Grass replied.

“Okay, well, here’s why you’re still risking the world by what you’ve done,” Marlborough said. “Because of you, we’ve retreated to the very limits of our propulsion systems. Our engines are working at maximum capacity. We can’t afford to lose another rotor. If we do, we’ll have to disperse the wormhole. And once we do that, the swarm, currently held at bay by the forces of that gravity well, will come crashing down on us. Once we’ve been converted, the storm will continue on its way, temporarily reduced in size. Once it reaches the West Coast, the termites will remedy that problem, expanding outward across the continent to continue their deadly rampage. The rest of the world will be destroyed, and any humans in the paths of the micro machines will be reduced to bioweapon food while still alive. So my statement stands: you risked not just your lives, but the entire world to save me. Not good.”

“Well, you did say you wanted to live forever,” Slate commented, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but not anymore,” Marlborough said. “Not now that I know the full cost.”

“And what cost is that?” Eric asked.

“I was going to say my humanity,” Marlborough answered. “But I realize now that I’m more human than ever before. We all are. The very fact that you attempted the rescue you did, and succeeded, tells me everything I need to know. You’re a hell of a platoon. I owe you everything. As will the world, when this is done. Assuming we can actually finish this. If we lose a rotor…”

“If we lose a rotor, there’s still another option,” the admiral said. “We can start shedding weight.”

“Shedding weight?” Eagleeye said.

“That’s right,” the admiral said.

“He means us,” Frogger said.

Marlborough nodded gravely.

Eric fired the latest dispersion salvo at the wormhole to keep the size in check.

Another tense hour passed; tense, because the team hoped and prayed that no further rotors would fail.

But then finally, at the hour and a half mark since switching octos, another rotor failed, and the craft began its inexorable retreat toward the wormhole.

“Strip away the walls!” Eric said. “We have to get rid of as much metal as possible.”

They moved to and fro via their magnetic mounts, tearing apart the inside of the octo and tossing the pieces out the entrance. The raging wind outside readily picked it up, and sucked it into the waiting plateau of water. The admiral jettisoned the ramp, and it too flew way.

But none of that really helped. The octo was still being sucked toward the wormhole.

“We’re going to have to start dumping robotic units,” the admiral said.

“The Savages and Breachers go first,” Marlborough said.

“Wait, it won’t be enough,” Tread said. “I’ve done a quick calculation. We’ll have to get rid of almost all of us. Even if we dump the Ravagers. Only three Cicadas can remain behind.”

“All right then, so how are we going to decide who gets to stay?” Slate said. “Scorpion, you’re already a dead man, since you’re in a Ravager. But the rest of us—”

“No!” Bambi said. “Not Eric. I mean Scorpion.”

“I’ll go with him,” Crusher said, coming to Eric’s side.

“Me, too, then,” Bambi said, joining them.

“I’ll do it, too,” Brontosaurus said.

“I volunteer as well,” Marlborough said.

“No,” Eric said. “No one has to go. You guys aren’t thinking this through. All we have to do is remove our AI cores, and then dump the machine bodies.”

“Good point!” Marlborough said. “People, start on the Breachers, Savages, and Ravagers. Then switch to the Cicadas!”

Eric removed the containment rig from Massacre’s back, and mounted it to the deck near the cockpit. He transferred the wormhole cannon from Slaughter’s shoulder to the cabin floor beside it. Then he removed the AI cores from Massacre and Slaughter. He used magnetic mounts to attach the cores to the deck, then he hurled the mechs out the entrance.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team had secured the AI cores from the Savages and Breachers, and tossed the composite bodies outside. Then the different Bolt Eaters began removing the AI cores from the neighboring Cicadas. Very delicately.

Eric helped with that process… because of his size and strength, he could move faster than the others, and secured the cores of Crusher, Brontosaurus, and Frogger, magnetically mounting them to the deck in turn, and tossing their bodies.

When he knelt to remove Bambi’s core, she said: “I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let you,” Eric told her.

She looked at his face, directly into his cameras, and nodded. Then the blue dots of her eyes went out as she turned herself offline.

Eric removed her core, mounted it to the deck, and tossed the body outside.

By then, only Marlborough, Slate, Eagleeye, and Eric remained online.

“How are we doing?” Marlborough asked the admiral.

“Our retreat has slowed by half, but it’s still not enough,” Admiral Grass said. “In about twenty minutes, we’re going to reach that wormhole.”

“All right, I guess I’m next,” Eric said. “I’m transferring control of the alien weapons over to you.”

Eric was about to shut himself down so that Marlborough or Slate could remove his AI core, but then Eagleeye raised a hand.

“Wait,” Eagleeye said. “You might not have to do this. Look at the external cams.”

Eric accessed the external feed. The horseshoe of micro machines that blotted out the sky on three sides around the octocopter had begun to clear, and the overcast sky could be seen beyond.

Eric dismissed the camera, and walked to the open entrance at the rear of the craft. He watched as the remnants of the micromachines were sucked into the wormhole. Only long black tendrils were left, spiraling into the sky, and these, too, faded entirely, leaving only that incessant wind caused by the suction. And the plateau of swirling water at its base.

Eric unmounted the wormhole cannon from the cabin floor, and hefted it toward the entrance. Because of its size and dimensions, if felt as if he were carrying one of the large miniguns from a helo in his arms or something.

He waited there as the craft slowly receded.

“Don’t fire yet,” Marlborough said. “Let’s make sure that any final laggards are destroyed.”

Eric nodded. “I intend to wait until the last possible second.”

The pull became greater, the closer they came to the tear in reality, and the craft approached it faster with each moment.

Another rotor burned out, and they spiraled toward the wormhole faster than ever.

“Now, Scorpion!” Marlborough said.

But Eric was already firing dispersion bolts repeatedly.

The wormhole shrunk with each shot, eventually becoming bowling ball sized, then the diameter of a thumbnail. The plateau of water receded along with it, shrinking to a hump on the surface, and joining with the sea as the tear in reality winked out entirely. The suction, and the wind, faded along with it, so that only the quiet sea remained, and the empty sky above.

“Well then, would you look at that,” Slate said. “We gone and saved the world.”

“Half the world,” Eagleeye clarified.

“Leave it to ol’ Bug Eye to put a negative spin on everything,” Slate said.

“Congratulations,” Admiral Grass said, glancing over his shoulder from the cockpit. “I didn’t think we’d actually be able to pull this off. I was wrong. I owe you all a beer when we get back. Er, a virtual one, of course.”

“We’ll take all the virtual beers and women you can throw our way, trust me,” Slate said.

The admiral held a finger to his ear and his face dropped. “Central command just reported in. Got some good news, and some bad news.”

“Let’s have the good news first,” Marlborough said.

“Centcom is no longer detecting the high frequency photons the micro machines used to communicate,” the admiral said. “At least not above the Pacific. Essentially confirming that we’ve destroyed the storm that was headed toward the coasts of North, Central, and South America. There are probably still some roving swarms in the Middle and Far East we’ll have to deal with, but for now the major threat has been contained.”

“Okay then,” Marlborough said. “The bad news?”

“Wait, I thought the comment about the roving swarms of termites was the bad news?” Slate said.

“I’m afraid not,” Admiral Grass told him. “The bad news is this: apparently, the alien mothership has poked its ugly head out from behind the moon once again. They’re on the move.”

“On the move?” Marlborough said.

“Tell me they’re fleeing into deep space?” Slate said.

“I wish I could,” the admiral said.

“Then where are they headed?” Slate pressed.

“You know the answer already,” the admiral said.

Slate’s LED features became grim. “They’re heading toward Earth.”

To be continued...

I don’t like leaving readers hanging, which is why I’ve decided to publish all three full length novels in the trilogy at the same time. That’s right, book three is available now (or will be shortly). Find out what happens next without having to wait.

Continue the adventures in Rebooted (AI Reborn Trilogy Book 3)

Afterword

Please help spread the word about Reloaded by leaving a one or two sentence review. The number of reviews an ebook receives has a big impact on how well it does, so if you liked this story I'd REALLY appreciate it if you left a quick review. Anything will do, even one or two lines.

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Isaac Hooke holds a degree in engineering physics, though his more unusual inventions remain fictive at this time. He is an avid hiker, cyclist, and photographer who sometimes resides in Edmonton, Alberta.

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isaac@isaachooke.com

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Acknowledgments

I’d also like to thank my knowledgeable beta readers and advanced reviewers who helped smooth out the rough edges of the prerelease manuscript: Nicole P., Karen J, Jeremy G., Doug B., Jenny O., Amy B., Bryan O., Lezza, Noel, Anton, Spencer, Norman, Trudi, Corey, Erol, Terje, David, Charles, Walter, Lisa, Ramon, Chris, Scott, Michael, Chris, Bob, Jim, Maureen, Zane, Chuck, Shayne, Anna, Dave, Roger, Nick, Gerry, Charles, Annie, Patrick, Mike, Jeff, Lisa, Jason, Bryant, Janna, Tom, Jerry, Chris, Jim, Brandon, Kathy, Norm, Jonathan, Derek, Shawn, Judi, Eric, Rick, Bryan, Barry, Sherman, Jim, Bob, Ralph, Darren, Michael, Chris, Michael, Julie, Glenn, Rickie, Rhonda, Neil, Claude, Ski, Joe, Paul, Larry, John, Norma, Jeff, David, Brennan, Phyllis, Robert, Darren, Daniel, Montzalee, Robert, Dave, Diane, Peter, Skip, Louise, Dave, Brent, Erin, Paul, Jeremy, Dan, Garland, Sharon, Dave, Pat, Nathan, Max, Martin, Greg, David, Myles, Nancy, Ed, David, Karen, Becky, Jacob, Ben, Don, Carl, Gene, Bob, Luke, Teri, Robine, Gerald, Lee, Rich, Ken, Daniel, Chris, Al, Andy, Tim, Robert, Fred, David, Mitch, Don, Tony, Dian, Tony, John, Sandy, James, David, Pat, Gary, Jean, Bryan, William, Roy, Dave, Vincent, Tim, Richard, Kevin, George, Andrew, John, Richard, Robin, Sue, Mark, Jerry, Rodger, Rob, Byron, Ty, Mike, Gerry, Steve, Benjamin, Anna, Keith, Jeff, Josh, Herb, Bev, Simon, John, David, Greg, Larry, Timothy, Tony, Ian, Niraj, Maureen, Jim, Len, Bryan, Todd, Maria, Angela, Gerhard, Renee, Pete, Hemantkumar, Tim, Joseph, Will, David, Suzanne, Steve, Derek, Valerie, Laurence, James, Andy, Mark, Tarzy, Christina, Rick, Mike, Paula, Tim, Jim, Gal, Anthony, Ron, Dietrich, Mindy, Ben, Steve, Allen, Paddy & Penny, Troy, Marti, Herb, Jim, David, Alan, Leslie, Chuck, Dan, Perry, Chris, Rich, Rod, Trevor, Rick, Michael, Tim, Mark, Alex, John, William, Doug, Tony, David, Sam, Derek, John, Jay, Tom, Bryant, Larry, Anjanette, Gary, Travis, Jennifer, Henry, Drew, Michelle, Bob, Gregg, Billy, Jack, Lance, Sandra, Libby, Jonathan, Karl, Bruce, Clay, Gary, Sarge, Andrew, Deborah, Steve, and Curtis.

Without you all, this novel would have typos, continuity errors, and excessive lapses in realism. Thank you for helping me make this the best novel possible, and thank you for leaving the early reviews that help new readers find my books.

And of course I’d be remiss if I didn't thank my mother, father, and brothers, whose wisdom and insights have always guided me through the dark paths at the edge of the world.

— Isaac Hooke

Continue the adventures in Rebooted (AI Reborn Trilogy Book 3)