Balance of Power (Battleborn c23), page 24
He turned toward the orbital fortress. By now, the tumbling motion was clearly visible even from the outside. The huge structure rotated leisurely around a diagonal axis. José took aim at his approximate point of impact. He adjusted the satchel and briefly opened the oxygen valve. A short burst escaped into space and pushed him in the desired direction, toward the open hangar door.
He flinched as a blue glow shone in front of him. One of the AI fighters swooped in and opened fire. José's Lancer dissolved in a cloud of dust. Fragments flew off in all directions. One passed José a few yards away. He held his breath. Did not move. Continued to drift toward the station, completely motionless, surrounded by debris of various sizes. The three engines ignited again and brought the bandit on a new course, away from José. He took a deep breath.
Then followed the longest fifty minutes of his life. Drifting helplessly through space, while inhuman enemies made their rounds in the immediate vicinity. Absolutely defenseless against any attack, with no way to accelerate his flight - unless he was willing to further deplete his oxygen supply, but that would have been even more insane. Every second stretched into what felt like an eternity, until suddenly a shadow settled over him. The sun disappeared behind the hull of the orbital fortress. With another burst of oxygen, he turned toward the steel colossus. Then he slammed into it. Frantically, he looked for something to hold on to. His hands slid over the steel. One finger found purchase in a small depression, a fresh impact crater from a piece of debris. For the last time, his trusty Lancer had saved his life. He intercepted its drift and rested his body against the outer hull of the fortress. For a moment he paused, catching his breath. Then he looked around. The hangar door was about forty yards away from him. The path to it had as few options for grappling as his current location. There was still much work ahead of him. He looked to the stars, to Earth. He only barely resisted the urge to laugh out loud. He had been in deep shit many times before. But squatting all alone in a simple pilot suit on the outer hull of a battle-scarred space station captured by enemy AIs was a clear frontrunner for first place on his personal chart. He thought of Lucy, took a deep breath, and started on his way.
06-01-2211, Aurora Station, Earth Orbit
Once again, Blackheart's force returned home to Aurora. Once again, the shuttles and transporters of the war fleet docked at the hub of the space station. Once again, the passenger bridge doors opened, releasing the Omega warriors and their auxiliaries into the terminal. Many times, this spectacle had been repeated. But this time everything was different.
They had been defeated, returning not as resplendent victors but as fugitives. The seriously wounded were the first to be brought in. All of Aurora's hospitals, including those of the resident corporations, had dispatched their ambulance teams to receive the wounded and bring them to treatment by the quickest route. Skip had to force himself not to take his eyes off the burned and mutilated bodies. He didn't like to imagine the carnage in which the Omega-class strike forces, actually the undisputed rulers on the battlefields of the 23rd century, had been so mauled. Skip saw many familiar faces. Some of the warriors had already fought for the Protectorate in Rheinberg. Others were still very young, recruited prematurely from the Orpheus Genetics training cadre to bolster the mutant force.
After the wounded, the dead were unloaded.
There were not many. Only those who had succumbed to their injuries during the escape. The countless who had given their lives on Aigis were still there. There had been no time for their recovery during the wild flight.
The last to disembark were the lightly injured and the uninjured. Whereby 'uninjured' referred exclusively to their physical condition. In the normally impassive faces of the Omegas, the mental wounds that the defeat had inflicted on them were easy to see.
Thunderbolt passed through the airlock. Skip pushed off from the grip he had been holding onto and drifted toward him. The Omega was supporting a comrade who had been badly burned. Only when Skip arrived immediately in front of the two did he recognize Blackheart.
"Get her to an ambulance now!"
"I'm fine" the commander croaked. Half her face was black. Skin hung off her in shreds.
"Will you stop playing the hero!" Skip snapped at her. He waved a paramedic over with a stretcher.
"I can walk myself," Blackheart protested. She was obviously at the end of her rope.
"You don't have to punish yourself," Skip coaxed her. "You brought your people back here. You've done your part. Now it's time to rest and let others get on with it. If you don't take it easy now, soon you won't be any help to us at all. So off to the hospital with you! Orders from your Guardian."
She looked him in the face from blood-soaked eyes, defiant at first, but then all power drained from her gaze as she accepted the inevitable. Skip and Thunderbolt helped the medic strap her to the gurney. Before the man took her to the elevator, she grabbed Skip's arm. There was only a fraction of her usual strength left in her charred fingers, but it was enough to press them deep into his flesh.
"Don't let them destroy Aurora, too!" she brought out with difficulty. Then she went limp, closed her eyes, and surrendered to her fate.
Skip and Thunderbolt floated a few feet to the side so as not to impede the continued flow of people from the shuttle.
"What the hell happened out there?" asked Skip. "I can't really figure it out from the reports so far."
"AIs," was all the Omega replied. "They sent AIs after us."
Skip looked at him intently. "Who are 'they'?"
Thunderbolt just shrugged.
"The Feds?" asked Skip.
"I don't know." The Omega was completely exhausted. He took a deep breath and mobilized his last reserves. "Their ships had no transponder codes or visible insignia. Neither did the combat robots."
"Combat robots?" Skip asked incredulously.
"Yes," Thunderbolt confirmed. "As I said, they were AIs. The cruisers, the fighters, the boarding parties: all AI-controlled machines."
Skip swallowed. He had still been in training when the artificial intelligences had spread fear and terror in all the battlegrounds of the solar system. At that time, the Iridium Wars had raged. The collapse of the Chinese colonial empire, the secession of the Shigano Combine from Yamato, and the rise of the European Federation had upset the balance of power in the solar system. The spheres of influence of the old and new players had been redrawn, and neither side had been squeamish in its choice of means. In the decades before, hostile parties had sought to limit the extent of fighting in space. Spaceships and stations were vulnerable, and even minor damage often resulted in total loss. There had been rules of war that were followed by all relevant institutions. But then artificial intelligences had entered the planning staffs and battlefields. To the AIs, the rules of warfare got in the way, so they ignored them. Their use had made the Iridium Wars the bloodiest conflict beyond Earth's surface since nuclear weapons were outlawed. The immense loss of material and human life had ultimately led to the banishment of AIs from the battlefield as well. Since then, it was again humans with feelings and conscience who pulled the trigger. With few exceptions, the AIs had been consigned to the archives and history books, becoming a legend, a scary story, a bogeyman. But this seemed to have changed moments ago. They were back. If Thunderbolt was not mistaken, someone had been keeping them in a dark corner all these years and had now let them off the chain. The horrors of the Iridium Wars had returned.
"Take care of your people first!" ordered Skip. "We'll talk later."
Thunderbolt had something else on his mind. "We brought prisoners with us."
"AIs?"
"No, no," the Omega denied, "all humans. Feds."
Skip was relieved. "Where do you have them?"
"On one of the shuttles. Don't ask me which one! That's where everything got mixed up."
"I'll take care of it."
He called Sybil Mbela. She was on her way to the terminal anyway, and arrived a short time later with a detachment of her security detail.
"Good God!" she exclaimed as she surveyed the beaten homecomers.
Skip looked at her in wonder. Religious expletives were rarely heard beyond the surface of the earth.
"They sure took a beating. I hear rumors about AIs and killer robots everywhere."
Skip nodded. "If that's true, it's going to be pretty nasty."
She looked at him. "Are we safe here?"
"The Donar and the rest of our fleet have taken up a defensive position. Steeler has informed me that there is currently no sign of the attackers leaving Aigis and coming here."
"I hope that remains the case." Mbela looked around. "Where are the prisoners?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out." He gestured to one of the passenger bridges. "That one over there looks like Fed uniforms. Let's try there."
She followed him with her people.
The prisoners seemed at least as perplexed as the mutants. About twenty men and women floated around in a heap. Two Betas with railguns half-heartedly guarded them, but none of the Feds gave the impression of having escape plans. Skip recognized a familiar face.
"Colonel Marault!" he greeted the former commander of the Federation forces on Aurora. "I would say it's good to see you again, but the circumstances are anything but pleasant."
The Federation officer saluted. "Guardian Avenger. I'm afraid I have to agree with you. First of all, let me assure you that I haven't the slightest idea who attacked Aigis. If it's really true that it was Artificial Intelligences, then I can't imagine that the Federation had anything to do with it. General Novak here is of the same opinion."
Marault's companion also saluted. "Guardian Avenger. The Colonel has assured me that you are an honorable man. I therefore place my fate and that of my soldiers in your hands. I too can confirm that Federation forces do not use artificial intelligences. This attack did not come from us."
Skip was inclined to believe the two officers. "We'll take care of that. But for now, we need to establish a little order. This here is Commander Mbela, our chief of security. She will be taking you into custody for the time being. Please be cooperative! That way we can address the most pressing issues as soon as possible."
The two Feds saluted in sync. Mbela's squad took care of the prisoners in a professional but reasonably friendly manner, and led them away.
Skip looked around. Slowly, the chaos died down. Most of the returning personnel had left the terminal through the elevators to the habitat. Soldiers and medics gave way to service technicians tending to the ships. Skip made a complete circuit, taking in all the docking locks. Then, finally, he spotted the target of his search. He pushed off a little too briskly and landed a little clumsily next to the Beta-class mutant in the pilot's jumpsuit. Raven startled. Deep exhaustion was written all over her face. Skip wrestled a pained smile from himself. Wordlessly, she came to him, put her arms around him and her head against his chest. He returned the embrace and gently stroked her hairless skull. She gave a soft sob.
"I'm here," Skip tried to comfort her, "and I won't let you leave again."
06-01-2211, Aigis Orbital Fortress, Earth Orbit
The oxygen level indicator hung low in the red zone. Every breath was agony. The lapses in José's perception increased rapidly. He had already completely lost his sense of time. The simple steps to manually open the airlock required all his concentration. Millimeter by millimeter, the gap between the two gate wings opened. One more time he tried to squeeze through. The helmet finally fit, and the rest of his suit followed smoothly. Only the supply satchel jammed. Several times he pulled violently on the bulky piece of luggage before he got the idea to turn it ninety degrees. This way there was more than enough room. José shook his head as if he could get rid of the fogging in his mind that way. What was he going to do next, again? Oh yes, close the airlock. With tunnel vision, he searched the chamber for the valve wheel, found it after an unidentifiable period of time, and turned it. The door continued to open. Other direction! Now the gap was closing. That was better. After the work was done, he staggered to the inner airlock door and repeated the same. After the first turn of the valve, a gust of wind whistled through the resulting opening. Air! José continued to turn. More and more of the life-giving gas filled the chamber. He fingered the cap on his helmet and, after several attempts, managed to open it. Since full atmospheric pressure had not yet been established around him, the helmet popped off the collar. The stale air of the spacesuit gave way to the fresh atmosphere of the habitat. Greedily, José sucked the oxygen into his lungs. A few breaths later, his brain slowly began to work properly again. He lowered himself to the floor, leaning back against the wall. Finally, a moment to catch his breath.
He fed the time signal into his visual center. His odyssey had lasted more than eleven hours. First, sneaking into the hangar unseen, hiding there again and again so as not to be discovered by the AI ships constantly flying in and out. Then working through the service tunnel to the rotation section. And finally, finding one of the airlocks into the interior of the ring. There were only a handful of these. Except for maintenance technicians, the hall, which was almost half a mile in diameter, was usually not accessible. It was better that way, since there was not much space between the walls and the habitat ring rotating inside. If the bearing damage had not slowed the rotation and finally brought it to a halt, José's already adventurous journey would most likely have ended fatally. In the meantime, however, the angular momentum had transferred to the entire fortress, sending it into a tumbling motion with a period of about ten minutes. The centrifugal force thus generated was about one-tenth of a g here in the ring and was at an angle of more than twenty degrees to the ground due to the diagonal axis of rotation. Moving in this environment was a game of skill that had put José's mind, befuddled by the lack of oxygen, to a severe test. But he had managed it. Not that he expected it to get any easier from here on out. In the maintenance tunnels and other sections of the station not intended for human habitation, he had been able to hide well from the invaders. Here in the habitat, the danger of running into the mysterious conquerors lurked around every corner. He fervently hoped that not too many of them were here.
As much as he would have liked to just stay seated, he had to keep going. Groaning, he rose to his feet, first held on to the wall and tested in which direction the centrifugal force was pointing. Still a little dizzy, he shimmied along the wall. Moving at a tenth of a g was more difficult for many people than complete weightlessness, especially when one was also trying to make as little noise as possible. The secret was the right mix of bouncing and shuffling. It took some practice to get it right so that you did not hit the ceiling every other step. José's long-standing partnership with a spacer and the associated stay in a minigravity apartment on the hub of the Xuesong space station now served him well.
He continued to turn the handwheel for the airlock and opened the door until he could just poke his head through. A cautious glance revealed an engineering room. José slipped out of the airlock and looked around. Lockers, spacesuits, and tools illuminated by the pale glow of emergency lighting, just like the rest of the station. He found no weapons. Not that they would have done him much good if he ran into the killer robots, but he would have felt a little better with a gun in his hand. At least he hung a tool bag around his neck. It contained a couple of heavy wrenches and other items that could serve him as a makeshift weapon in a pinch and might prove useful elsewhere.
He unhitched the clunky utility knapsack from his suit and deposited it in a locker. He added the helmet. It did not seem advisable to leave too obvious a clue to his presence. He then closed the airlock door again.
He went to the door, the only access to the room apart from the airlock through which he had entered. Going out there into the corridors was a gamble. But he could not stay here. The fresh water supply in the supply tank was nearly exhausted, and his stomach was growling so loudly by now that he feared that alone would give him away. He would try to get into one of the station's two canteens. The AI robots probably had no need for food and would hopefully leave him alone there. First, though, he had to figure out where he actually was. The station's internal navigation aids were down, as was the entire com system, and he had no map stored in his internal memory.
He unlocked the automatic opening mechanism and pulled the door aside manually. Cautiously, he peered out. A deserted corridor, even darker than the engineering room. As quietly as possible, he squeezed through the door and crept along the wall against which the centrifugal force pressed him. Again and again, he paused and listened. Diffuse pounding sounds could be heard in the distance. José could not determine whether they came from the invaders or from some station systems that were still in operation. He passed through more doors and side corridors and finally reached the esplanade. Seeing the otherwise constantly busy central corridor completely deserted and bathed in twilight was eerie. The sounds grew louder. Definitely footsteps. José had a hard time estimating the distance. But at least they were not in close proximity.
He slipped out of his cover and took his bearings from the section numbers on the side corridors. Bummer. He was right next to the operations center. From here, the nearest canteen was a quarter ring circumference away, nearly a mile and a half. Not to mention, of course, being so close to the command post meant there was the greatest risk of running into the conquerors. But after all he had already been through, he would be able to make it. If he did not get caught by the AIs.
Keeping to the wall, he worked his way forward. He made good progress until the noises suddenly became louder. Footsteps! Right in front of him! José hurried into the next side corridor and hid in the shadows. He had just scurried around the corner when several figures on the esplanade came his way. He had already seen the spider-like robots in action during the attack. He remembered well that even the Omega strike force had struggled against them. His chance of standing against these monsters was exactly zero.
