Steelheart (11 page)

Egg rooms appeared to the left and right. Becka was right-handed and instinctively turned in that direction.

The compartments had been dug with machinelike precision—not too surprising, given that robots had done all the work. A central aisle provided access to opposing racks. They had been excavated rather than built, with each egg resting within its own carefully scooped depression.

Each egg was a work of biological art, its shell covered with a swirl of blue, gray, and green, as unique as a human fingerprint. Like that which they protected, the casings were valuable, and were worth a fortune to anyone who had the means to move them. Still, one was better than none, and would be cut into sections and sold. Not the center of Annie's enterprise—but a profitable sideline.

Becka inspected the lowest row of eggs, chose what she judged to be the smallest, and gathered it into her arms. Alarms went off. Hundreds of tiny flea-sized nano swarmed over the top of her boots, found their way up into her pants, and clamped mechanical jaws onto her unprotected flesh. Surprised, and reeling from the excruciating pain, Becka screamed.

 

Enore seethed with impatience. Someone, or something, had invaded her domain and was stealing an egg. She wanted to go there, and would have, except for the fact that video of the human research facility had brought Zenth over to her side. More than that, Tortna was wobbling, and Rota was within reach. It seemed that an agreement could be had.
If
she kept them focused,
if she.
kept her temper,
if
they
made an honest attempt to understand. The conference continued— as did the torture it caused.

 

Becka's skin felt as though it was on fire, and blood had soaked the tops of her socks, but she staggered on. The egg was slippery with her sweat and weighed a ton. Screaming helped, as did swearing, so she switched back and forth. Annie knew plenty of swear words, so the child had lots to pick from.

The corridor ended. She ducked into the shaft, placed the egg on the ground, and clipped the rope to her harness. Becka wanted to stop, rip her clothes off, and deal with the nano. It would be a mistake, however, a possibly fatal mistake, and she refused to make it.

Becka lifted the egg, cradled it in her arms, and tugged on the rope. The slack disappeared, the line grew taut, and the girl rose six inches into the air. The nano continued to attack. Becka's head started to swim, and she bit through her lip.

Annie swore, heaved on the rope, and swore again. Becka, plus the egg, totaled a hundred pounds or more—a problem that would grow worse as the preteen grew older. Logic dictated that she dump the girl for someone younger, a biddable little boy would be nice, but Annie continued to procrastinate.

Becka heard a scrabbling sound, knew what it meant, and screamed Annie's name. She was six feet off the ground by then—with ten to go.

The attack robot bore a striking resemblance to its creators, right down to the ovoid shell, six legs, and willowy tool-arms. The machine thrust the front end of its body into the shaft, clacked its anodized mandibles, and scratched for traction. The robot pushed, earth crumbled, and the machine entered the shaft.

Like the bodies upon which it was modeled, the machine could pull itself up into a vertical stance. Servos whined as the robot moved, grabbed for one of Becka's boots, and missed.

Frustrated, and concerned lest the thief escape, the machine activated its offensive weaponry. It had two highly flexible laser projectors in place of antennae, and would have no difficulty burning a hole through the intruder's spine.

But what of the egg? The human would almost certainly drop and destroy it. No, it was better to send a message to the surface, and hope for a rescue.

The robot watched the human twirl at the end of the rope. She used her boots to push herself away from the wall—and clung to the egg. Three drops of blood fell, splattered across the machine's video receptors, and started to dry.

 

Enore terminated the conference call, spent little more than a couple of seconds savoring her victory, and rushed to rescue her egg. A quick review of nano-supplied video revealed that the robbery was almost complete—a robbery engineered and carried out by members of the very species with whom she had recommended that the Mothri align themselves. The irony of it stung.

Enore even considered going up to the surface, tracking the miscreants down, and punishing them herself. The only problem was that it would take too long to open one of the carefully sealed entrances. No; justice, if such was to be found, would come via the machines who served her.

Orders were issued, additional machines were dispatched, and Enore thought about her egg. Special egg, lovely egg, person that could have been.

 

Becka welcomed the feel of sleet on her face. Sleet and cold, cold air. The shaft opened to the sky, the rim came near, and the rope continued to hold the girl's weight as Annie tied it off. The stake that she had driven for that exact purpose moved slightly, held, and took the strain.

Becka's screams had been reduced to little more than whimpers by the time Annie appeared against the cold gray sky, took the egg, and disappeared.

There was a moment during which Becka thought she'd been deserted, left for the robots to find, but Annie returned, took the girl's arms, and pulled her out. The child felt a sense of relief. "They're all over my legs, Annie .. .biting and chewing!"

Annie looked down, saw the blood on Becka's boots, and swore a terrible oath. "Hang in there, scrap. I'll pick them off you, but not till we reach the cave. Okay?"

Becka tested her legs, felt them respond, and nodded her head. "Okay, but let's hurry. The pain makes me dizzy."

Annie regretted leaving the rope, but knew there was no time to retrieve it. She clutched the egg to her ample bosom, shuffled toward the escape route, and prayed there was time.

The robot, one of many permanently assigned to the surface, had been three standard units away from the point of incursion when the call came in. Moving as quickly as it could, the machine made its way through an icy arroyo, over a flood-ravaged gravel bar, and up an embankment.

The hunter-killer unit saw the intruders the moment it came over the rise. They appeared as objects, sources of heat and, in one case, minimal electromagnetic activity. The machine could have neutralized the fugitives right then ... but an egg was at risk, and eggs had priority.

Becka looked back over her shoulder, saw the insectoid robot, and urged her mentor to greater speed. "Hurry, Annie ... I see a robot. A big one!"

The older woman was in excellent shape for someone of her age, but saw no reason to expend energy looking backwards. "Don't worry, scrap. I can handle up to three of the blasted things. Get ready to take the egg. We'll switch on the far side of the big rock.''

The girl gritted her teeth against the pain in her legs, rounded the boulder, and took the egg. The top surface was covered with sleet. Becka put her head down and shuffled forward. Mucus ran over her mouth, tears trickled across her cheeks, and her socks were squishy with blood.

Annie watched the girl depart and marveled at her courage. She had heart, Becka did... and that meant a lot. So much that there could be no trading her in. Maybe they'd locate another orphan and add her to the team.

The robot hurried forward, rounded the side of an enormous rock, and was greeted by an unusual sight. The human stood there, a mop of gray, almost white, hair blowing in the wind, her body indistinguishable under layers of ragged clothing. The alien held something in her hand—something shiny. A weapon? The machine's CPU confirmed the possibility, brought the droid's weapons systems on-line, and removed the safeties.

The machine and the human fired at virtually the same moment, except that Annie was a fraction of a second faster, and the bolt from the carefully calibrated stunner scrambled the robot's CPU. Robbed of its centrally controlled systems and processes, the droid collapsed.

The human hurried over, ran a hand along the machine's flank, found what she'd been searching for, and inserted the specially shaped tool. A compartment popped open, and a control panel was revealed.

Annie selected what she knew to be the correct slot-switches, double-checked to make sure that she was correct, and applied the tool to several places in quick succession. The goal was to kill the machine's emergency locater beacon and place the robot's CPU on standby until she could modify it. A self-taught skill that made all the difference.

Once that was accomplished, it was a relatively simple matter to drag the robot to one of three pre-dug holes, shove the device in, and cover it up. The sleet, which was quickly turning to snow, would camouflage the cache and prevent its discovery. Or so she hoped.

One machine was all she needed—but how many would the local bug send? Just the one, or a whole bunch? Annie readied the stun gun and peeked around the boulder.

It was a straight shot back to the flat area where three of the hunter-killer units had gathered around the air shaft. None showed any signs of venturing forth, which answered her question. Rather than send more assets into what might amount to a trap, the resident bug had decided to limit her losses. Smart, very smart, and on plan. Annie turned, located Becka's tracks, and covered them with her own.

 

The cave was roomy, but not
too
roomy, meaning difficult to heat. Their gear was laid out along one wall, a camp stove stood on a rock, and a pan warmed on top. The egg, its top carefully removed, sat within a circle of stones, waiting to be emptied. Becka, naked except for a T-shirt and panties, lay on her sleeping bag.

The girl winced as Annie pushed the forceps into the flesh at the back of her calf, located the heretofore elusive micro-machine, and pulled it out. The nano pinged as it hit the bottom of the metal cup, struggled to climb the impossibly sheer sides, and fell among five or six of its brethren. "That's the last of 'em, scrap—all I could find, anyways. Tell me if you feel more."

Android Annie removed the magnifying goggles, dropped the miniature robots into a nanoproof metal case, and secured the catch. There were more, of course, nano so tiny it would take an electron microscope to see them, but they were harmless. So far anyway.

Becka looked down at her bony, snow-white legs. Hundreds of little pocks showed where nano had chewed their way into her flesh. Most were below the knees, but a few had made their way upward to the anterior surfaces of her thighs.

The bleeding had stopped, and Annie had treated each hole with broad-spectrum antibiotics, but there would be scars— a
lot
of scars that would be there for the rest of her life. However long that turned out to be.

Annie saw the look, read the thoughts behind it, and poured egg batter into a pregreased pan. It sizzled for a moment, filled the cave with a mouth-watering odor, and started to thicken. Becka let her tongue roam over her lips, tightened the grip on her fork, and forced herself to be patient. A full stomach, a warm cave, and a good night's sleep. Life didn't get any better than that.

 

Enore sang the death song. It was a long, melancholy affair, passed from generation to generation, and rooted in a thousand years of grief. An egg had been lost—along with all that it could have been.

 

 

 

10

 

life
/ n / that property of plants, animals, and some machines 
that makes it possible for them to take in food or raw materials, 
grow, adapt themselves to their surroundings, and reproduce their kind

 

 

Though far from sentient, the Mothri machine was capable of independent action so long as such activities were consistent with its programming.

Not the
original
programming, which called for the satellite to track surface conditions, but the
subsequent
programming that included additional responsibilities.

First and foremost of those responsibilities was the destruction of enemy satellites, "enemy" being defined as any machine other than itself. This was an assignment it had completed on three different occasions—and failed to carry out ever since. The last episode had been especially disastrous, resulting as it had in an opponent that was stronger than before.

A sentient being might have been discouraged, might have wallowed in self-doubt, but the Eye of God had no such foibles. It simply learned from its mistakes, made a new plan, and put it to use. The most recent scheme met the necessary parameters rather well—and stood a 76.8% chance of success.

 

Clouds covered Zuul like a blanket of dirty fleece, hiding what Michael sought to see, forcing him to watch and wait. What he needed were cloud breaks that would allow him to see, and report what he saw, for that was his function: to float above those he served, only momentarily privy to the lives they led, and provide them with guidance.

No, the satellite told himself, you musn't whine. There
is
an order to the universe and a divine purpose for all the component parts. Machines included. Or was that little more than wishful thinking? Convenient theology that stemmed more from need rather than truth? He feared that this was so, and railed against his creators.

Why had they abused him so? For what was the ability to think if not a curse? A nonsentient machine could fill his function. There was no need to think—to ponder the meaning of it all. No, his creators cared nothing for him, only for their convenience.

Hope, if such a thing were possible, lay with
their
creator, the nature of whom remained a mystery, even to them.

The meteor, propelled along its orbital course by small, nano-engineered rocket engines, was traveling so fast by the time it entered detector range that the alarm had just started to register on Michael's CPU when the object bit.

The impact was horrendous and sent the satellite tumbling out of control. Systems crashed, backups came on-line, and Michael fought for his life.