The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2) (3 page)

The Fly had excellent night vision and zoom functions. Even in the rain, it did a superb job locating a deserted barn. Manually controlling the arms on the spider, Rand dropped the damaged legs and let them drag while she opened the doors, drove in, turned around and closed the door behind her.

Rand opened her driver’s side door, and with the rifle in hand, dropped easily to the straw covered floor of the barn.

On her cuff control, she put the Fly in night patrol mode, so it would monitor the perimeter all night, alerting her to anything unusual. Fortunately, infrared showed only deer moving through the forest and fields. Then, she activated both the flashlights on the cuff and on the helmet to begin inspecting the Emergency Module. She was surprised to find some gouges in the black outer skin.

“Bob, I’m going to remove the number two and number four body rotator locks and central pins. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you to detach them. Please, acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.”

After setting down her rifle, she produced a multi-tool from a thigh pocket and removed the rotator locks from the joints of the damaged leg.

“Bob, slowly rotate leg number four at joint one.” The leg turned very slowly, and when the large, heavy pin fell out, Rand caught it, but she almost dropped it because it was so heavy.

“Bob, raise your body a bit and shake leg number six.”

The leg rattled loose and fell with a dull thud.

The procedure was repeated on number two.

“Bob, can you reach both hands to number five?”

“Yes, Rand.” Its two utility arms that hung below the main body to the front, reached forward from the underside of the spider.

“Bob, I’m going to repeat this procedure on number five. But, when I’m done, do not let the leg drop.”

She took out the rotator lock and the leg rotated and coaxed out of the joint.

“Now, Bob, I want you to move this leg to the number five position. I plan on reconfiguring it so you have six functional legs set up symmetrically. Three on each side.”

“Yes, Rand.”

A moment later, the leg was in. “Now, please rotate the joint slowly until it aligns.” Bob went by the pinhole, twice. He didn’t see it.

“I’ll tell you when to stop. Bob...now.”

“Rotate seven more millimeters, Bob.”

The pin slid in. The EM turned the rotator lock tight.

“Bob, rotate 360° where you stand.”

Excellent.

“Okay, Bob. Settle all the way down.”

Bob bellied down, folding its arms in. Rand saw the huge gouges in the black surfaces of Bob’s body. One of them, torn and twisted, caused a gap along the center hinge seam, right where the leak was.

She lifted the door and slammed it, hard, in an attempt to force it closed, and out of sheer frustration.

It closed and it latched.

“Bob, is the passenger’s door sealed? Is hull integrity restored?”

“Negative. Positive pressure tests failed,” AI~Bob replied.

“Shit,” she said, through clenched teeth.

She stood up and thought for a minute.

“Bob, I want you to shut down and restart in system diagnostic-repair mode. How long will it take?”

“Duration is dependent on the types of issues encountered. Two hours and twelve minutes, if no errors are detected.”

“Do it.” Nothing happened.

Dammit
.

“Bob, shut down and restart in system diagnostic-repair mode. Keep a status window open in my personal HUD, please.”

The spider settled down even further in preparation for a full shutdown. Rand picked up her rifle and activated the tactical light, setting it to a wide angle. She swept the light around the empty barn to see if she could find anything useful. She found a shovel and five pitchforks. The structure was a pole-style barn, common on every colony she had ever visited. The roof was sound and had no leaks.

She manually opened Bob's trunk. The shovel was too long and would not fit. Maybe the pack would. Rand decided to leave her pack in the passenger’s seat, in case she needed something while on the move in the EM.

Rand explored the area. Hanging in an attached lean-to shed, she found a large, dusty, dark brown hide. It had obviously been there a very long time; it was very stiff. She had an idea. She took down the hide and dragged it back to the Emergency Module. Dropping the skin, she positioned the light on the rifle to illuminate the work area, after making sure the breach was open. She reached in, pulled out her pack and closed the driver’s door. In one smooth motion, she spread the hide over the top of the vehicle. After a little positioning, she was satisfied. Going to a predesignated pocket, Rand withdrew a spool of black paracord. It was a very strong, thick string. She could never really call it a rope, but it did have 2,000 kilo test strength.

Using the cord and her small multi-tool, she tied the hide to the surface of the module using the recessed loops utilized on the assembly line for the EM. After tying three points on each side, she tried the driver's door to see if it would open and close easily. It did. The hide rose with the door.

When Bob came back up, she would ask if any of its sensors were obscured. She tied off several more points and stood back to see her work. It suddenly occurred to her that the EM looked like an actual animal now.

Grabbing her rifle, she continued her search, finding nothing of use or of note. The Fly saw nothing and kept vigil.

***

Bob booted back up in four hours and twenty-seven minutes. Most of the prior glitches cleared. The basic AI came online, but there was a problem with the advanced templates. Rand put her pack and her rifle back inside the EM, already designing a ready-rack for the rifle in her mind. She closed the door and the barn fell in darkness.

“Bob, are you feeling okay?” It was the standard question asked an advanced AI.

“Nominal.”

It was the basic answer. No personality overlays or specialized programming was integrated. No red message in the error log. She might have to work on that. She remembered that AI development was her friend Chen's favorite hobby.

Chen is dead. They are all dead...
Anger rose, again.

“Tactical map.” She was surprised when the map displayed instantly.

“Full status.”

Windows popped open everywhere. She scanned them, one at a time. One even included the feed and system status from the High Ground Fly drone. The status window had a blank field labeled, “Name: <_>”.

Hmmmm, I will have to think on that.

“Rand, may I ask a question?”

It was the simulated voice of HAL9000 that spoke, the default AI voice. Stupid tech humor.

“Sure. Ask away.”

“Why do you call me Bob?”

She laughed out loud.

“It's an acronym, Bob. Bug Out Boat. Bug Out Boy. Bug Out Bob. Take your pick. Do you want a different name?”

“People usually call me Hal. I have no idea why. I think it is a joke of some kind, but humor still eludes me.”

“Bob doesn't feel right, either. The Bob I knew was an idiot,” Rand said. “I think I’ll call you...Poole. Dr. Frank Poole. Is that okay?”

“I think I like it. Thank you, Rand.”

“You’re welcome, Poole.”

“Dr. Frank Poole is at your service. How may I help you survive this day?”

“Was that a joke, Poole?” Rand smiled.

“That remains to be seen, ma'am.”

“If you ever call me ma'am again, I swear to Christ I’ll delete you.”

“Duly noted...Nancy.”

“Call me Rand, or it's Bob, again, for you!”

“I’m sorry, Rand. Another attempt at humor.”

“Better,” Rand said.

“May I ask one more question?”

“Yes. As long as you stop asking if you may ask a damn question. Just ask the question.” She smiled.

“Why is there a rug on me?”

CHAPTER THREE

Crater

“Barcus was the guy who knew the capabilities of maintenance suits and how they worked best. We never knew exactly how durable they were before that. Jack Miller, the poor bastard, fell all the way to the planet inside his. We didn't know that his body had been rotting in there the whole time, half-cooked and pounded to jelly by the impact. The suit’s antennas were all destroyed. We didn’t know it was there, until we got really close. Close enough to smell it.”

--
Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

<<<>>>

The group of trackers reached the crater before the fires stopped.

The great scar that the falling object left in the forest was indicative of the speed that it possessed on impact. The trench it left behind felled trees that were hundreds of years old. The final resting place was a bowl about thirty yards wide and ten deep.

The group lined the rim, looking down at the man-shaped thing at its center. Man-shaped and yet not a man.

It had two legs, two arms and seemed to be resting on its back. That was where the similarities ended. It was blacker than anything the High Keeper's trackers had ever seen, and not just black from the char of sky fall. No light seemed to escape from it. It had no head—just a swollen torso.

High Tracker Tolwood was the first to descend into the crater for a closer look. He felt the heat of it. He took his water flask from his belt and filled his mouth. He spit the water onto the thing and the water turned to steam, instantly.

It felt like he was in front of the forge in a blacksmith shop. He was as close as he was going to get, for now. At this distance, he saw that the forearms seemed to bristle with faintly glowing tools or weapons or fingers with claws.

“We need to cool this down before we can bring it back to the Citadel,” he called over his shoulder in the direction of his men. “And, we need lots of ropes and chains.”

***

It took two more days before they could drag it out of the crater. It was also far heavier than they thought it would be. It broke the axle of the first cart they brought in. Once they believed it was apparently made of stone, they obtained a cart of the appropriate size and strength.

It took another week to wrestle it back to the nearest clearing where they could safely land a shuttle. They loaded it, cart and all, into the large cargo bay, with the help of an ox they found at a nearby farm.

As cold and as inert as it was, they found if placed upright, it stood on its own wide feet. It looked like a dark statue carved from midnight.

Tolwood supervised the entire process. Once it was brought to the  Citadel, he realized why it unnerved him. No matter how many times he had the thing scrubbed, it still had a faint smell of death about it. All the scrubbing in the world could not defeat the scent. Chief Tech Mason studied it for months. But, the smell remained, faint and haunting.

***

Wes Hagan lived. Everyone else in the engineering section of the
Memphis
died.

When the ship was hit, so many things
could
have killed him. The wreckage that tore through the main engines cut Granger in half. The massive hull breach sucked Holcomb and McHale out into space. The rest died in the vacuum of space strapped into their seats.

“How did Captain Everett know?” Wes said out loud, to himself, as he unbuckled his five-point harness and hammered his fist on the emergency lifeboat’s access button.

As soon as he was through the hatch, it slammed shut, and he felt the explosive bolts blast the lifeboat away from the
Memphis
. Lights came on, full brightness.

The prerecorded voice spoke directly to the HUD in his mind.

“This is an emergency. Please sit and strap yourself in.”

Wes was in his light pressure suit and helmet. It was all that had saved him from the vacuum of space. Hagen felt bulky as he floated toward the pilot’s seat. A sudden impact to the hull drove him toward the front, ramming his ribs into the headrest of the pilot’s seat. He heard, more than felt, his ribs break.

Alarms sounded. Proximity alarms he recognized.
Shit
.

“Activate emergency AI. Navigation display. Do not crash my boat, you stupid computer!” On the edge of panic, Wes screamed as he strapped in. He felt the lifeboat tumble.

The display dome activated, showing the exterior view. The lifeboat was in a backward tumble. A display window showed the status of the AI, initiating slowly. The lifeboat had been thrown clear of the heavily damaged
Memphis
.

“Goddammit.” He hit the manual override, grabbed the grav-foil controls and slowed the roll, as he watched the moon’s surface grow closer on every rotation.

The roll was controlled by the time the AI’s initialization completed. Hagan hit the decelerators, hard, and leveled off.

He saw chunks of various sizes impacting the moon all around him.

“Emergency Module this is Chief Engineer Wes Hagan. We’re in deep shit. Plot a direct vector to a safe landing site. If we’re hit by a big piece of the
Ventura
, we are finished.”

As if to punctuate the statement, a giant piece of the outer ring impacted the moon’s surface directly in front of them, forcing them to fly directly through the resulting cloud of dust and stones.

“Chief Hagan, allow me.” The AI took control of the lifeboat.

Hagan released the controls and hugged his ribs. He found it difficult to breathe. He scanned the display windows as the moon's surface rolled by, all too close.

His eyes landed on the AI status display.
ECHO systems active. Emergency mode. Survival situation.

“ECHO, status? What the hell happened,” Wes demanded.

“The
Ventura
was destroyed by multiple nuclear missiles. The planet has an automated defense grid that activated when the ship entered orbit. The
Memphis
was destroyed by multiple, severe impacts from large pieces of the
Ventura
. This lifeboat was the only one activated.”

Wes strained to turn and look at the lifeboat. It had been heavily modified. Besides the pilot and copilot seats, it had only twelve other seats. Three rows of four seats with an aisle down the middle, like a commercial shuttle but less comfortable. Then, there was a wall with a center door.

“Is the compartment depressurized?” The computer’s AI didn’t reply, but an additional display showed cabin pressure. It said,
Nominal
.

An enormous impact on the hull drove Hagan forward onto his harness. Then, there was pain, followed by darkness.