Insidious (33 page)

Meridian’s camera moved around the stairwell. Bren saw debris that resembled pieces of ultralight concrete and metal from the station.

The machines lined up to enter the stairwell. But they stopped short.

“It’s not here. Somehow we missed the Red,” Henley said. “I don’t think the ASSAILs should go down there. They’d get picked off one by one in the stairwell.”

“The station inhabitants call it Claw. It already left the spaceport through shuttle access five,” Meridian told Bren.

Bren passed the information along to the command channel. “The Red is called Claw. It left the spaceport by moving outside the station.”

“An advantage they have over the ASSAILs,” Henley said. “Our heavies can’t go outside as easily.”

Bren thought it was true enough. The ASSAIL chassis did work in the vacuum of space, but it took a large airlock to accommodate them. Most stations only had three or four locks that they could move through. The
Vigilant
had a couple of locks they could use as well, but if the smaller, more agile Reds could move quickly through any lock, then they’d have many more routes in and out of the station.

“Well, the ASSAILs think it has left the spaceport, so you can get the wounded back here.”

Henley belted out some orders on the marine’s channel. It sounded to Bren like the men would be returning the wounded as well as hardening their positions with more of their supply containers. In previous training exercises, Bren had seen the bathtub-sized containers linked together in short stacks to create makeshift fortifications.

The ASSAILs stayed in the atrium as the marines secured the area. He thought about the Red. Could it be moving back in from another angle right now? Or had it accomplished its purpose and retreated to another ambush site? Bren thought it might even enter the
Vigilant
, given that all the ASSAILs were beyond the breach and unable to intercept. He knew two laser turrets and dozens of marines guarded the breach tunnel, but would that be enough to stop the cyborg if it decided to force its way on board?

The marines unpacked three mine-laying robots and activated them. The machines patrolled the perimeter of the atrium, positioning smart mines in the service corridors and stairwells. The marines could come and go as they pleased, but if a hostile came within several meters of such a device, it could deploy stunning sonics or armor-piercing explosive devices.

The next phase of the board and control operation involved seizing the executive living areas. Bren knew that once the marines felt more secure in the spaceport, Henley would send the ASSAILs onward.

“I wonder if the men who went into the spaceport will stay there or if they’ll remain at the vanguard,” he transmitted.

“The engagement in the spaceport has damaged the survivors’ morale without giving them any useful experience,” Meridian answered. Bren winced. He’d meant to make the comment aloud in the Guts, not transmit it on the channel. “Therefore, it would be better to use a new force to seize the living areas.”

“You no longer believe that the marines should be held back?”

“I believed before that Admiral Jameson held their lives at a higher valuation,” Meridian continued. “His decision to send them in anyway indicates that they are now considered more expendable than was indicated in the pre-mission module.”

Bren didn’t have an answer. He sweated it out for a couple of minutes in silence until Henley transmitted.

“We have the spaceport. The ASSAIL units should proceed to the second objective. I’m dispatching a new marine unit to back them up. They’ll deploy through the breach in the next five minutes.”

Bren picked the camera view from Meridian back up as the machines responded to the orders. The ASSAIL provided a slow, agonizing show for Bren, moving through the station corridors to clear rec areas, pools, and even two night clubs. Bren watched and waited for the alien to reappear.

The column moved through an empty cafeteria. The tables remained, but the food service area was covered in white sheets.

“The cafeterias are practically in mothballs again,” Bren noted. He knew that for some reason, the aliens had made everyone wear the gear and enforced the rules that the helmets stay on everywhere but the personal quarters. As a result, the cafeteria spaces were available for other miscellaneous use.

Boom. Boom.

The sound of 12mm fire broke out in the tight corridors, picked up by the machine’s sensors, and transmitted straight into Bren’s brain through his link.

“New fractures!” Hoffman reported.

Brrroom. Brrrroooom. Boom.

Bren saw Meridian shoot at least four rounds at an angle through the wall on its right.

“Neptune has fractures,” said a handler. The ASSAIL would be advised of the condition of its armor. It was hoped this new information could keep the ASSAIL units alive longer.

“Odin has fractures,” said the voice of another handler. “Damn! Odin out of action.” A loud noise came from beside Bren in the Guts. He assumed the handler had smashed or thrown something, but didn’t bother to look.

A person in gear popped around the corner in front of Meridian. He raised a rifle toward the ASSAIL. Before Bren could even swear aloud, he heard the report of one of Meridian’s 12mm cannons. The black helmet exploded. A bright crimson cascade blossomed on the wall behind.

“Meridian,” Bren searched for words. “Was that necessary?”

“The attacker had to be quickly neutralized to ensure the success of the current board and control operation,” Meridian said.

Bren considered asking more. If Meridian survived there would be a justification of the action in its mission report, but if the ASSAIL was destroyed, they might never know why the ASSAIL had killed the civilian. The mere presence of the rifle shouldn’t be a threat to the heavily armored ASSAIL machine.

Bren traded glances with Hoffman. Bren could tell by the look on Hoffman’s face that he was working on the problem as furiously as Bren himself was.

After a moment, Hoffman said aloud, “Meridian has one of the circular microfractures in his frontal plate. A lucky shot with that rifle could take him out.”

Bren considered it. “And the mission is likely to fail without Meridian? Maybe.”

“At this age, Meridian could even look at the vector of the barrel pointed at it and decide if the round would strike its fracture,” Hoffman said.

The ASSAIL units had stopped firing, but they still moved in careful circles like hunting sharks as if they believed enemies lurked nearby. Finally, Hoffman passed along to Henley that they believed the cafeterias were clear for marines to move in. Lines of men ran into the room. The first couple of squads rushed in and sought cover behind overturned tables and unused food dispensaries. Then more men came in with equipment. Bren saw weapon tripods and more boxes of the smart mines.

“The machines are clustering closer to that wall,” Hoffman noted. Bren looked at the disposition of all the machines in his PV. At first, he’d thought the ASSAIL machines were stepping out of the way of the marine’s equipment, but now he saw Hoffman was right. The ASSAIL units were edging in one direction.

He checked the incursion plan. A pane came up in his PV and displayed a map of the route ahead.

“There’s a security hardpoint in the very next corridor,” Bren said aloud. “The main security office is directly beyond.”

Suddenly the ASSAILs began to fire. The marine channel filled up with transmissions. Bren switched back to the camera view.

What he saw confused him. A section of the wall more than ten meters wide had opened up, although Bren couldn’t tell which side had done it or how. People in gear on the far side fired at the marines and the space force was firing back. Grenades rolled across the floor toward the marines. Many of them were hit, sending glue spraying across the white covers of the serving area.

Several handlers in the Guts reported fractures simultaneously. Bren used his PV to see for himself. The cutting molecules were hitting Nergal, Nemesis, Orion, and Oblivion.

“Orion is hot,” called a handler. “We’re taking laser fire!”

Bren knew that meant that the security hardpoint had been exposed by the sundered section of wall. It had a laser emplacement that must be under the control of Claw or its allies. He suspected the wall had been cleared by the locals to allow the laser to fire all the way into the cafeteria.

Bren’s view had filled with smoke. Shots and explosions still rang out, although the frequency had dropped from the first ten seconds of combat.

“Frick. Orion is crippled. Nearly useless,” commented the machine’s handler.

That’s only five left
, Bren thought.

Bren watched a map display to follow the movement of his machines. They had moved forward on the security hardpoint. The machines weren’t firing much now. Only Orion remained behind, presumably out of action.

As Bren watched, Nergal’s status went red in his PV. Bren checked for details. His information pane on the machine indicated the machine had been destroyed.

“Nergal’s down,” came the dismal announcement. “Unknown cause, but it had fractures on three sides, so …”

So Claw probably did it.

Smoke cleared from Meridian’s camera view. Bren saw marines in the wrecked area of the security hardpoint. The walls were heavily damaged throughout the area. The best walls had gaping holes the size of a man; the worst were reduced to a few smashed panels in the corners with only the support struts left to indicate any barrier had ever existed. Boulders of glue littered the area around the ASSAIL, with gear-clad arms and legs sticking out here and there.

Meridian didn’t move much. It didn’t fire at anything. Bren saw what he assumed must be a smart mine crawling down a strut. The thing reminded him of a big lumbering bug. A bug that could explode if it so wished, killing selected targets within seven meters.

“We have the security office,” Henley announced. “This unit’s taken more than fifty percent casualties. I’m setting them up to garrison the hardpoint. We’ll send in another unit from the Vigilant to accompany the remaining ASSAIL machines to take the factories. The laser emplacement is toast. Looks like it’s got a pretty twelve millimeter hole in it.”

“Is there any good news?” Bren asked.

“Uhm … yes, actually. I’m told that we recovered our operative,” Henley transmitted. “Wounded but still kicking.”

I wonder what happened before we got here. She didn’t get Claw, I guess. That was a long shot.

“Bren, I’ve got a local here, says he wants to help out,” Devin said.

“What can he do for us?”

Bren didn’t get an answer. He took the voice connection pointer she had left his link.

“I’m glad you guys are here,” said a voice. Bren’s PV said it was the Bentra security head of Avalon. “We’ve had enough of these fuckers. Let me onto our systems again, and I’ll help you trap him.”

“We can use your help. Send me an authorized command channel and I’ll pass it along.”

“I’ll do that. But you should let us drive it. We know the station better than your people do.”

“You don’t know my people,” Bren said. The man didn’t know Bren would be giving the channel to an AI core.

“Okay. Here it is. Let me know if you need our help on anything else. Oh, yeah. One other thing. Some of the systems are experiencing oddities. I think Claw has some kind of control over them, at least we know he did when he first came here, and I have no reason to believe that he ever relinquished that access.”

Bren took the channel pointer and passed it along to Meridian. If the ASSAILs hadn’t already broken into the system, having a straightforward authorization for use of the station’s internal sensors and security equipment could be critical. The UNSF could use it to track the spinner, lock hatches, or even deploy security checkpoint weapons. Unless Claw had an iron grip over everything.

“This authorization is no longer valid,” Meridian told Bren. “Claw curtailed the command powers of the human security forces as soon as I destroyed the laser emplacement.”

“Can you track the spinner? Claw, I mean,” Bren asked.

“Claw is a capable opponent with a high degree of sophistication. Its movements are obscured. We have only obtained control of approximately fifteen percent of the station’s computing power and twenty percent of data storage—”

“Okay, no need to continue the report. Concentrate on the mission at hand.”

“We have adequate resources to perform the report as well as conduct the incursion. Of course, this data is accessible through your personal view.”

Bren knew he wasn’t able to find or use most of the information available in his PV as fast as it happened, but he didn’t mention that to Meridian. To do so would highlight his inferiority to the AI core.

“Perhaps more regular reports would be helpful … of course, without compromising the chances of mission success.”

“I am warning the marine commander of an imminent attack at the spaceport,” Meridian said.

Chatter rose on the marine command channel again.

“Mines are going off in the spaceport,” Henley explained.