Hierarchy Fleet besieging New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
Twenty-Four knew something was wrong with the Abrogator the moment its behaviour ceased following standard routines. Moments ago it had reported damage to three of its primary actuators, each controlling the motion of a separate leg, and he had been expecting this to be followed up by a sudden lack of further response, courtesy of the galaxy’s least killable nuisance.
But when that did not happen, and the life-sign of Adrian Saunders instead moved away from the damaged battle-drone, Twenty-Four immediately became suspicions. These suspicions multiplied when, instead of continuing on an intercept course, the other units proceeded towards the compromised drone.
“All units, disregard data from Abrogator Red-Seven,” he instructed, fearful at what might come next. The human was here – in the same damned uniform he’d fought Thirteen in – and that meant his Corti companion was almost definitely with him. Every system had to be isolated, had to be rebooted and purged of any possible intrusion, and while that took time it also meant he wouldn’t end up facing an army of his own drones as the last thing he ever did.
The biggest danger to his fleet was not the human, in spite of Saunders’ aptitude for causing a truly ridiculous amount of destruction. He could be dealt with, from a comfortable distance, if only the cyber threat could be eliminated first.
“Abrogator Yellow-Square, continue pursuit of human,” he commanded. “Other units, switch target to other life-signs and proceed with haste.”
All he needed to do was distract Saunders for long enough to strike at his allies, and then focus all efforts on destroying the human once and for all. The details of that would have to wait for the moment, however, as he could wait no longer to initiate lockdown protocols on his fleet’s computer systems, starting with the reboot of all major modules.
He would be flying blind until it was done, but that would give him ample time to prepare a brief statement – a warning, in fact – to be delivered to Central in case of defeat, an unwelcome possibility now that he knew the credentials of his enemy.
The lights clicked over to emergency green as the systems began their rolling shutdown, leaving Twenty-Four to consider his next move under a lime-coloured glare. All he could do was hope that by the time the systems restored there was something left to wage war with.
+++++
New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
When the Corti slave-master had decided to enter what had been the sub-levels of the palace in search for functional interfaces, Zripob had taken up position on the outside of the ruins under the pretence of providing some sort of guard, in spite of only being armed with an anti-tank kinetic weapon that would likely do nothing more than attract the attention of robots as monstrous as the ones coming for them.
Staying outside had been a ruse, providing an excuse to allow him freedom of movement in the event that an opportunity for escape presented itself. The Five-Fingers was still in lockdown, but Adrian’s own ship was still somewhere nearby, hiding away under cloak, and if he could figure out where it was he could get aboard and potentially make his escape in a wonderfully poetic fashion.
Not that Zripob was much for poetry, but even he could see the humour in repeatedly stealing a starship from the same person, and maybe this time the Hierarchy would actually manage to put Adrian Saunders out of everybody’s misery. As far as Zripob was concerned, there was far too great of a risk that, should Adrian actually manage to win this battle, he would simply be abandoned on a dead asteroid base to try and figure his own way out.
To that end he was simply hurling rocks in various directions to see where the invisible thing was, and was so preoccupied with this duty that he did not at first see the two monolithic robots entering the main cavern from separate tunnels. It was only when Askit contacted him for a status report that he discovered the two terrible machines drifting towards the ruins.
“Status is bad!” he croaked in shock. “Very bad! Two automatons converging on my location!”
“I was attempting to bait them with the broken one,” Askit replied, sounding neither surprised nor sympathetic, only factual. He was detached from his emotions, like all other Corti, but with him that would mean he was avoiding some overpowering emotion such as shitting-yourself-terror, and Zripob certainly couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid that. “The enemy must have flagged the others to ignore its call.”
“That doesn’t help me!” Zripob croaked angrily, taking up position behind a particularly solid bit of masonry with every intention of figuring out what in the void he was going to do next. Dying seemed likely, briefly preceded by raw terror and hopeless resistance, but he thought Six-Skulls Zripob should be able to come up with something a little flashier than that. “Adrian, do you read me?”
“Little fucking busy,” the human replied curtly, sounding under pressure himself. “Got one of these fucking things that just. Won’t. Fucking. Die!!!… Jesus Fuck-”
The connection dropped out as a rumbling wave of thunder swept the asteroid once again, and Zripob wondered if this time one of the machines had finally gotten lucky. If it had, it really couldn’t have happened at a worse time for Zripob, because that meant that if there was anyone left to rely upon it would be the crazy little Corti who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place.
“Askit, respond,” he croaked, flinching as the heavy kinetic cannons began pulverising the barricade he’d staked his life on. “Askit, respond!”
“I’m busy!” the Corti snapped. “What do you want?!”
“The Five-Fingers!” Zripob hurried, “it has weapons. Unlock the ship and I’ll use them to destroy these things…”
The barricade shook as more masonry plumed from impact sites, now under assault every few heartbeats as the two robots cycled their barrage against his position. “My shitty gun won’t do anything against these things!”
Silence answered him at first, and he thought that his proposal must be getting ignored by whatever had caught the damned Corti’s attention instead of Zripob’s imminent demise. “Unlocked… can you reach it?”
“Don’t have to,” Zripob replied, using the data-pad he’d concealed from the Corti in case he had tried to re-appropriate it, and connecting into the now-fully accessible systems of the Five-Fingers. He summoned the ship, and set the targets for its twin coil-guns, and waited for it to arrive.
It was heralded by the gargantuan explosions of the two robots imploding under the power of huge metal slugs accelerated to incredible velocities, swiftly followed by the violent detonation of a large section of ceiling that shot debris out in all directions.
That exposed the cloaked vessel drifting in the empty space between him and the ceiling high above him. It was a tempting target for a second volley, but acting too soon would alert the Corti to his plans. Instead, Zripob chose to quickly board the Five-Fingers and initiate every process required to lock the Corti hacker out of the systems and make good his escape. The whole process would take roughly (one minute), and all he had to do was stay alive that long.
His taskmaster was not yet willing to remain silent, however, and Askit’s demanding voice disturbed his moment of victory. “Zripob, report! Were you successful?”
Zripob didn’t want to answer, but for the moment he had to ensure his little bastard didn’t realise his true motives. “Very successful.”
“Good,” Askit replied. “I’ll be joining you shortly, so get the ship ready for escape. Thanks to my efforts, it looks like the fleet has started a system shutdown, so we’ll be able to get past them if we hurry.”
“Good news at last,” Zripob said, although that would really only be true for Zripob himself. “What about Adrian Saunders?”
“That’s why we’re escaping,” Askit replied, more grimly than before. “I’m afraid Adrian Saunders is dead.”
Zripob nearly felt a tangible wave of relief hit him as those words were uttered, the words that confirmed that there was at least some justice to be had in the universe. With Adrian Saunders dead, so died one of the truly dangerous people with a grudge against him, and soon, when Askit breathed his last gasp of air, another would join him.
His happiness barely in check, he waited for a reasonable amount of time to suggest some kind of horrified shock, and replied in short. “I see.”
+++++
Record 573-Black-05 +Recovered from C11-Orange-712-Yellow-6+
“Look what I’ve got!” Tormas said, focusing the camera on Mrera. She was laid out on a bed, naked except for the blanket that covered her lower portion. A warm fire cast its orange glow across the length of her body, showing every curve with greater emphasis. “This is going to be so great! I knew this cabin was a good idea!”
“I’m not making a sex tape with you, Tormas,” she replied, frowning at the camera. “You can forget it!”
“Come on, Mrera!” he cajoled. “It’s not as though there’s anybody around to see it!”
“Then there’s no need to make one,” she replied, smiling. “Turn it off and come over here. The bed is just as comfortable as it looks.”
“Alright, I’ve turned it off,” Tormas assured her, clearly lying. He wandered around into view of the camera, fully exposing himself to it. “I suppose I’ll just have to remember how great this is.”
Mrera giggled, reaching out. “Come here, idiot.”
They were interrupted by the growling of heavy machinery, both freezing in place as they focused on listening to the sound.
“What was that…?” Mrera whispered meekly, and they both stared past the camera. “Tormas…”
“I’ll… go and check it out,” Tormas assured her after a moment of hesitation. “Just wait here… stay… like that.”
She nodded obediently. “Be careful!” she hissed after him.
Tormas walked past the camera, picking a blunt instrument up as he did so. The door creaked open, and then it slammed closed, and Mrera waited with wide, fearful eyes.
Things stayed that way until the battery ran dry.
End Recording
+++++
New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
“What’s your status, Adrian?” Askit asked, running some kind of mix between the failing internal sensors, those belonging to the Five-Fingers, and those aboard the ancient robot. It let him know that his human companion was still alive, and that there had been a substantial explosion in the lower tunnels where he’d been fighting the last of the robots to actually be facing him.
“Fucking well-done,” Adrian replied after a moment. “My visor is all fucking melted to shit… I can’t see a fucking thing, and I’m fairly sure the metallic remains of that robot are on fire.”
“You’re lucky you’re not similarly melted,” Askit told him, knowing from the data that it would have been a near thing indeed. “What exploded down there?”
“I think it was a gas pocket in the rock,” Adrian answered uncertainly, although that would explain how anything was burning in a vacuum. “Shit was fucking exploding all over the joint with that one’s new and fucking improved tactics, and I couldn’t get a clean shot with all the fucking running away I was doing…”
“Well, you’ll be glad to know that Zripob has dealt with the remaining two,” Askit said, monitoring Zripob’s progress on reclaiming the Five-Fingers for himself. The Chehnasho was intelligent, but his knowledge of computer systems was woefully lacking and he didn’t understand that every action he’d taken since re-boarding the vessel had been performed under an imitation interface. That meant that when the devious bastard attempted to destroy Adrian’s cloaked ship, the systems reported a weapons malfunction instead of firing.
“You’re fucking joking,” Adrian replied, sounding about as pleased as Askit had expected. Zripob had not felt the need to be entirely forthcoming about what had transpired to bring him back to New Askitoria in the same ship Adrian had stolen upon leaving, but Askit had been able to piece together enough of a story to know that the mercenary was not to be trusted.
“He’s currently escaping aboard the Five-Fingers,” Askit advised, “after having attempted to destroy your ship.”
“The fuck?!” Adrian shouted. “I just put that fucking thing back together! If he’s-”
“He believes the Five-Fingers is experiencing a weapons malfunction,” Askit continued, interrupting the outburst before it could get fully under way. “Your ship is fine, and he’s leaving.”
“I should kill that green fuck!” Adrian growled, his rage only somewhat reduced by the news his vessel remained in one piece.
That was much as Askit had expected, and what he had prepared for, but there was still one more thing for Zripob to do before he could be allowed to let that to happen. “You can do that if he survives his ‘special assignment’.”
“What ‘special assignment’?” Adrian asked warily. “What have you got planned?”
“The Hierarchy fleet is currently restarting its systems,” Askit informed him, although he was mainly inferring this fact from the sudden lack of response from the ship computers. If the systems were functioning they’d at least give some sort of access denial, but this at least proved that they were dealing with someone who wasn’t taking any chances. “It’s the perfect time for escape.”
“Something tells me his ‘special assignment’ isn’t to escape,” guessed Adrian.
“No,” Askit replied, smiling thinly. “His assignment is rather less enjoyable than that.”
+++++
The Five-Fingers, proximity of New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
Zripob croaked out a laugh as the Five-Fingers cleared the base entrance, knowing that he was at long last forever free of his Corti task-master and the most dangerous human in the galaxy. Ahead there was the Hierarchy fleet, lying dormant as promised, but that was not where Zripob wanted to go; he put in the coordinates for Dominion space and activated the auto-pilot, then sat back into the comfort of the pilot’s seat to await the change of course.
That was a change that did not come; instead the heading locked on to the nearest of the Hierarchy vessels and began to accelerate at an entirely alarming rate.
“What have you done?!” Zripob demanded, knowing full well who would be responsible for this and reckoning on him listening in. “Bastard!”
Askit’s face appeared on the main screen in gargantuan size, hideous in scale and looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You try to leave me to my death and I’m the bastard?”
Zripob glared at him, not in any mood to argue the point. “What are you doing? Are you intending to crash me into that ship?”
The Corti smiled. “Yes.”
Zripob felt chills, and knew that Askit had completely outsmarted him and was currently ensuring his death. But if death was certain he would be doing a lot more gloating and spending a lot less time at it. “You clearly want something, so why not say it before I die?”
Askit looked pleased. “Quick on the uptake, good. I’ve left you some data-jacks in there. You’ll be arriving on that ship, and I just need you to plug some in.”
“Then just how am I even supposed to breach the airlock?” Zripob asked, finding the data-jacks but nothing like a cutting torch. He didn’t even want to think about what might happen to him once he was actually on board, or whether the Corti would actually release him once his ‘mission’ was complete. If it came down to it, he’d do whatever was necessary to cease being beholden to the psychotic little creature.
The psychotic little creature frowned in confusion. “You won’t be breaching any airlock, Zripob… you won’t be docking.”
The coil-guns thumped as the little salvage-runner entered weapons range of the mighty Hierarchy vessels, and gave Zripob all the information he needed to figure out what Askit had meant. “You’re deranged!”
Askit snickered. “You’re not wearing your safety-belt.”
The giant face vanished to reveal the looming form of the targeted vessel, along with the rapidly decreasing number indicating the distance between it and Zripob. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to be ramming it, and both the small coil-guns were doing their level best to soften up the hull for the impact.
Soft enough and Zripob might even survive the impact.
He put on his safety-belt, pocketed the handful of data-jacks Askit had left here for him, and gripped onto the seat with all he had. It was going to be a bumpy ride.
+++++
Hierarchy Fleet besieging New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
It was all going very badly wrong.
Exactly one of the Abrogators was still active in the asteroid base, and that was the one that was almost undoubtedly completely compromised. Whenever he attempted to contact it by radio, it simply made the rather obscene suggestion that he depart and attempt to mate with himself, which was physically impossible as well as biologically pointless.
The fact that there were only two life signs left aboard the asteroid base was at first a victory, and then a complete disaster when he realised that one of his own ships had been attacked. Not only was Deployment Vessel 3 featuring a large hole from a recent impact, but an escape pod containing a third life sign was heading for the edge of the debris field as fast as it could go.
As if the damage to the ship hadn’t been bad enough, it was now proceeding to open fire with all remaining missiles on a spread against the rest of the fleet, while it had set itself on what was most definitely a ramming trajectory with Twenty-Four’s command cruiser.
That was not an ideal situation, and he was forced to train all weapons on the subverted vessel in order to destroy it before it could do the same to him.
Space was filled with plasma fire and the bursting hull of a starship under sustained explosive fire, and after (several minutes) of exchanging weapons fire Deployment Vessel 3 ceased to be, and its ruined hull could be pushed harmlessly aside by the powerful kinetic field of the command cruiser.
His temper fouled, he looked over at He-Who-Had-Been-Zero and scowled, damning the useless imprint for the failures that had brought Twenty-Four to this day. One of the life-signs had escaped, although it was unlikely to get very far before he could get after it, but two others still remained within the asteroid itself, plan unknown.
The traitorous Abrogator had joined them, proving once and for all that it had forever given up its allegiance to the Hierarchy in favour of a pair of troublemakers from the outer rim. There was no use in sending his final two, because the same end would inevitably reach them as well.
It was time to try something neither Zero nor Thirteen had considered; it was time to try the art of conversation.
“This is Commander Tk-kkptkt,” he said over the radio link that would normally let him provide the Abrogator with orders. “I wish to speak to those aboard the asteroid base.”
The first response came several moments later, and was the voice of a Corti whose qualities suggested him to be the same one that had helped foil Thirteen aboard his own ship. “My companion wishes me to ask you if you’d like to surrender.”
Twenty-Four glared at the console, regardless of the fact that they could not see him and would have no way of knowing that he did so. “I will not be surrendering to you, Askit, nor even to Adrian Saunders. I had hoped that we might come to some arrangement.”
“I assume that as you’ve recognised us, you’ve also transmitted the fact that we’re alive back to your headquarters?” Askit asked, and quite accurately so.
“You may assume that,” Twenty-Four granted. He had created his report, and would only need to add the confirmation of Askit’s presence before sending it back to Central for review. He had also backed up his consciousness, but Twenty-Four had never had to surrender a body before and he wasn’t going to start doing so now.
“What’s your arrangement?” Askit asked curiously. “It better not be a demand for our surrender, because as near as I can tell we’re winning.”
That was their hubris showing, but they certainly did have a right to feel that way, because who else could have put up such a fight?
“Regardless of what you ‘can tell’,” Twenty-Four replied with deliberate slowness, “I can assure you that it isn’t victory so much as a good showing before a defeat. You are on the wrong side, and so my offer is thus: join mine.”
“You want us to join the Hierarchy?” Askit asked, his surprise well-evident. “The same people who keep trying to kill us?”
“Clearly that would stop should you take me up on this,” said Twenty-Four dryly. “And there are many other benefits: immortality, a life of endless luxury and not to mention a place in an… organisation that has outlasted species.”
They were quiet, and Twenty-Four knew that they would be discussing it. They would worry about it being a trap – that was what it was, after all – but part of them would want the offer to be genuine. All that had to happen was for their sense of hope and self-importance to win out and-
The silence broke. “We want to meet in person.”
Twenty-Four knew he had won. “Of course. Come aboard my command carrier and I-”
The Corti interrupted him. “We have no reasonable means to reach you,” he said, revealing their lack of further means of escape, “and we aren’t yet willing to trust you that far. We will meet you here. Consider it a show of good faith.”
Twenty-Four didn’t enjoy having such terms dictated to him, especially when accepting them meant he’d be putting himself in danger. But unlike them, he could back himself up, and if push came to shove he could take them both with him. “Very well,” he agreed, “I will need a short time to prepare. Be aware that I will be bringing an armed escort, you do have a human after all.”
Another pause before their inevitable response. “We understand.”
+++++
Irbzrk Orbital Factory, Main Station
The good doctor had shown an aptitude for putting together some aerosol dispensers for the anaesthetic that would, when distributed into the three ventilation systems that fed the bank, deliver enough knockout gas to take out all unprotected non-humans in the building. The main trick was going to be getting all of the police inside the building, but Darragh had reasoned that they could more or less use Keffa and himself to get that kind of attention.
Just so long as they didn’t do anything too antagonistic, because he didn’t imagine the armed response would be anything short of excruciatingly painful.
At least that had been the plan before Keffa had started shooting her mouth off to the clerk, earning her a blast from a police stun-bolt that left her twitching on the floor.
“Mnnggggg…” she moaned, thoroughly incapacitated.
The police seemed to have realised that they were committed to their course of action, and now encircled Darragh menacingly. He tried to think about what Adrian would do – probably kill everybody in the room, so that was no help – and what Jen might do – probably never get into this situation in the first place – so with neither of them being of any inspiration he did what came natural and started to complain.
“Look what you’ve done!” he said accusingly, gesturing towards Keffa. “Would you look at what you’ve done to my lovely wife?”
“Do not move!” the policeman who was farthest from him shouted. “We have you under arrest!”
“Arrest?” he asked. “Arrest for what, exactly? I’m not the one who’s gone and shot someone! What are you going to do about that?”
“She was acting in a threatening manner,” the policeman replied.
Darragh threw up his hands in exasperation, a gesture that nearly got him three simultaneous blasts to the chest. “Oh, a ‘threatening manner’, was it? Just because she was wanting to see a manager? Just because from the looks of things we’ve been robbed! Robbed, do you hear? You don’t think she might have gotten a wee bit fired up from that sort of thing? Don’t tell me you would have done that if she hadn’t been a human! That’s racism, that is! I’m going to make a complaint to your supervisor!”
The policemen glanced at each other awkwardly, less determined now to continue in their pursuit to make a scene, and looking a good bit confused by things in general.
“Are you…” one of the other policemen began before taking his helmet off to rub his head wearily. “Are you… I was saying something…”
They all began to teeter around in an entirely unbalanced way, before inevitably crumpling to the floor where the gentle rise and fall of their breath was the only sign of life. The clerks were out too, which wasn’t entirely part of the plan but had been accounted for, and Darragh got to work.
“Keffa,” he said, giving her a light kick in the side that she only barely responded to. “Wake up! For crying out loud, stop lazing around, will you?”
She hardly moved, but she was conscious and no longer twitching, so he hoped for a speedy recovery and moved on to his next patient: the closest clerk he could find. To her he forewent the kick in the side and instead delivered a small dose of a sharp stimulant that had the poor creature restored to some kind of delirious consciousness with a single sniff.
“Wha- wha’s going on?” the clerk, a male Vzk’tk, asked woozily. “I’m… I’m sick…”
“I’m Officer D,” Darragh told him, counting on the creature to remain in a confused state for some time. “There’s been a gas attack on the building, and you’re the only survivor…”
“Only… only survivor!?” the Vzk’tk asked, turning his head to look around in alarm and nearly falling over one again, before turning back to fix on Darragh. “You… you’re a human!”
“Which means I can survive things that would kill anything else,” he said gently, “so that’s why they sent me in. Makes sense, yes?”
The Vzk’tk briefly struggled with this argument before deciding to simply go with it and take the explanation as given. “Yes… but we’ve got to get out of here!”
“My instructions are to save any survivors, and get the money out…” he dissembled, continuing to rely on the creature’s dull wit coupled with drug-induced stupidity to get him where he needed to go. These arguments wouldn’t have convinced any but the dumbest of the more intelligent races, drug-induced idiocy or not, and he was sure that it would only convince the clerk for as long as the anaesthetics remained stronger than the stimulants. “Can you help me get the money out?”
“The money?” the Vzk’tk asked, trying to focus through the haze. “Oh… yes.”
“Good job,” Darragh reassured him, “now get to it.”
+++++
New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
It had taken precious little time for Twenty-Four to assemble what he had required to get him to the asteroid base – merely a small lander craft, the latest revision of a combat harness, and the two remaining Abrogators – while the rest of the time had been spent doing one final backup and transmitting it back to central along with an encrypted copy of his report that could only be unlocked by himself.
Once he had been satisfied that his affairs were in order, Twenty-Four had proceeded to make the journey across the gulf of dust and debris that separated the base from his command cruiser, making his approach slow and deliberate so as not to appear to be making some sort of attack. If his plan was to work it was vital that they trust him right up until the moment he betrayed them.
He landed at the docks and proceeded, with the use of the harness’s own kinetics, to continue towards the rendezvous point under the escort of the two enormous Abrogators. He arrived there in short order, to find the Corti, Askit, and the human, Adrian Saunders, sitting comfortably atop the compromised Abrogator. It seemed that they had brought their own insurance policy, but it would do them no good against Twenty-Four.
“Greetings,” he said as he arrived, using the harness scanners to give him a high detail report on each of them. To his delight it appeared that the human’s vacuum suit had been damaged, although not lethally so, and the visor had heavily deformed and discoloured to the point that it would be impossible to see through.
Confident that even Adrian Saunders was incapable of fighting in a suit damaged to that extent, Twenty-Four grew more comfortable in his plan. “Let us waste no time with pointless introductions,” he continued. “I am Twenty-Four, and I am-“
“Here to kill us?” Askit asked. “We guessed.”
Twenty-Four froze, quickly scanning for any traps and finding none. The only source of danger appeared to be the single Abrogator they both rode, and it would vanish under the arsenals of his remaining two loyal robots as soon as he was certain-
“You are mistaken,” he replied, attempting to buy some time. “Hasn’t everything been as I’ve said? You are useful enough to allow into our number, and all that I require is some trust-“
“We’re not stupid,” Askit replied, for some reason doing all of the talking. Could Saunders be even more injured than he appeared? “But what we don’t understand is why you thought we’d fall for this? I don’t doubt you’ve already backed up your brain, so you have nothing to lose by coming here and everything to gain by taking us unaware.”
So that was the explanation; Thirteen certainly hadn’t revealed just how much information he had leaked to the enemy, but it now appeared to be enough to seriously mess with Twenty-Four’s plans. He would have to forego the plan to trick them into an easier situation – they weren’t going to fall for it anyway – and proceed directly to the part where he killed them.
“Abrogators,” he said, “Kill-“
He was interrupted by something hitting both of them at once, something moving so fast that it not only punched through the main section of each, but also drew the resulting explosive blast along for the ride. The floor below each was shattered, turned into a spray of dust minor debris that was swept along by the plume of hot plasma that came with a breached containment unit, and if he hadn’t been wearing his combat harness, he’d have been dead for certain.
Twenty-Four had been around a long time, and he knew a coil-gun bolt when he saw it, but he hadn’t seen anything around that could fire one. That probably meant that they still had a ship, and that would also mean it was cloaked.
That changed the situation a great deal, but in spite of how things looked they had only won the battle, not the war. He whispered the activation code for the backup plan, speaking to the voice interface of his ships rather than those two fools in front of him, and by the time the dust cleared so that he could see the human aiming its primitive weapon at him, he had already set a course that would ensure their defeat.
“Nice try, dickhead,” Saunders told him, his face still concealed by the visor’s disfiguration. “What now?”
“What now, indeed?” Twenty-Four repeated, both angered and amused at the sheer boldness of their plan. They hadn’t killed him immediately, probably hoping to take him prisoner and extract whatever information they desired, but that had been their mistake.
“Now,” he said, “we all get to die together. Although some of us more permanently than others.”
+++++
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Adrian asked, getting the feeling that something very bad had just happened, or was happening, or was about to happen. Or all three.
It was probably all three.
Trix answered for him, which was good because she was a much more reliable source of information than some arsehole who was trying to kill him. “Adrian, I’ve detected movement from all five remaining vessels,” she advised. “One is already on course for the docking bay.”
He spared a glance towards the docking area, although it wasn’t possible to see it from where he currently sat – atop a broken down robot – or through the messed up visor that obscured just about everything except for his heat vision. “It’s docking?”
“No,” she replied. “It’s far too big to dock.”
That wasn’t good news. He turned his attention back to the Hierarchy agent, who seemed content to stand there and simply wait for death, or at least bask in their panic and ignorance as they tried to figure out what was going on. “You’re ramming us with your fucking starships?”
The alien chortled in surprised amusement. “I see you’ve got more resources available to you than you were letting on! Yes, I have just commanded my vessels to successively ram your docking bay… oh, and to fire all loaded missiles, so that should be very enjoyable.”
“You will not be able to survive that, Adrian,” Trix warned him. “None of us will be able to survive that!”
A growl rose in Adrian’s throat. “You fucking dickbag!”
“You just sent a command,” Askit repeated with the familiarly cautious, but slightly excited tone of possibly having just found a wonderful exploit. “Just now?”
Agent Dickbag laughed some more. “Of course! I was hoping against things going so poorly, but as always I enacted a contingency plan.”
“Adrian,” Askit said, “kindly shoot this ‘motherfucker’ directly in the head.”
“No problem,” Adrian replied, adjusting his aim slightly. He figured that if Askit had been that specific, he probably wanted the majority of the suit intact, and that meant there was something on there they could use to survive.
“Wait… what?” Agent Dickbag managed to get out, just in time for his question to be punctuated by a twelve-gauge slug to the face. Heat vision wasn’t great, but it was enough to have given Adrian the kind of general outline of Agent Dickbag and the really quite impressive suit he was wearing, and now there was a big hole where the head used to be.
“Not so amused now, is he?” Adrian asked with a laugh of his own. “But I sure fucking hope you know what you’re doing.”
“He sent a command to his ships,” Askit explained, driving their robot forward towards the stationary suit still housing most of Agent Dickbag’s body. “That means that his suit is using a link.”
“You have (two minutes),” Trix informed Adrian. “Then things get a lot deader in here.”
“You need to be fast,” Adrian said, even as Askit was plugging a data-jack into a port. He’d managed to locate a new data-pad, and although it was probably not customised with everything he wanted, it seemed as though it might suffice.
“No shit?” Askit hissed back, furiously tapping away at the pad. “Thank you for the revelation, because I thought I had all day!”
Adrian frowned. “I should be quiet and let you work.”
No sarcastic answer to that, but the little Corti was fully consumed by his undertaking and Adrian didn’t particularly want to distract him. He stepped away and, in spite of not being able to see a damned thing outside the infra-red spectrum, stared in the direction of the docking area.
With his feet pressed against the ground, he could feel the sudden jolt and subsequent rumble of something big hitting something even bigger.
“The first ship just impacted the docking bay,” Trix informed him unhelpfully. “I’m detecting a missile swarm coming in fast. Twelve of them will reach you in (thirty seconds).”
“How’s that connection coming along?” Adrian called out to Askit. “First ship just hit us, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“My shortcuts are all gone,” he replied, clearly frustrated, “It’s taking much longer than I’d hoped! It looks as though he was doing everything by radio, so I have to listen through each log for the voice commands and adjust them to something that doesn’t get us both killed.”
“Five seconds,” Trix said, and Adrian could see the faint heat signatures of a dozen cylinders making a long curve from the distant main tunnel, their course altering to bring them straight towards Adrian.
“We’ve got missiles,” he informed Askit, raising his shotgun and hoping like hell he could hit anything with such limited visibility. “Hope I’m a good enough shot.”
“Those missiles are operating by wireless,” Askit observed. “And their controller has just been destroyed…”
“Reckon you can stop them?” Adrian asked, still adjusting his aim.
Askit shook his head. “Not before they kill us.”
The missiles bore down on them, their outlines growing as their heat signatures grew closer. “Looks like this should be a bit fucking interesting, then.”
“Interesting is one word for it,” Askit replied. “Another would be-“
“Pull, motherfucker!” Adrian interrupted, shooting down the first of the missiles in an explosion that sent two more careening into the ground with the expected detonative outcome.
“Nine to go,” Askit counted, stepping around and crouching behind the combat harness as though it could somehow shield him from that amount of explosive power. “We’re not going to make it.”
Adrian switched to a new target. “Pull.”