Hoon number two sent a message to number one, ran into an electronic wall, and became immediately suspicious. Pathways were verified, systems were checked, and a second attempt failed just as the first had. The AI jumped to the logical conclusion: The other half of itself had severed their relationship and declared the electronic equivalent of war!
A biological might have waffled, might have questioned its own judgement, or been hesitant to take action. Not number two. The second Hoon went to the highest state of alert, directed fifty robots to intercept the intruders, and locked itself in. Monsters roamed the corridors ... and the computer was scared.
Servos whined as Alpha moved down the passageway.
Jepp’s shoes squeaked when they came into contact with the deck, and Sam nattered in the exprospector’s ear. Insofar as Jepp could tell, this vessel was the twin of the one in which he had spent most of his captivity. That being the case, he was familiar with the basic layout and could have navigated on his own, right up till the moment when Alpha approached a heavily armored hatch. The human was familiar with the door, or its analog, but had never been able to open it. One of Alpha’s armlike extensions whirred as it telescoped outwards, made a clicking sound as it mated with some sort of receptacle, and was immediately withdrawn.
Air hissed as the barrier disappeared overhead, a whiff of ozone found its way into the human’s nostrils, and they were in. “I didn’t know you could do that,” the human said, as he followed Alpha down the brightly lit hall.
“It can’t,” Hoon number one replied, “but I can. Now listen carefully because there are limits to how far I can go. Robots wilt be sent against us, I will neutralize most if not all of them, while you proceed to the goal.”
Jepp felt a rising sense of panic. Whatever he had landed in the middle of was more than a routine maintenance chore. That much was clear. Questions begged to be asked. “Robots? Goal? What goal?”
Hatches opened up ahead, a swarm of silvery robots flooded the corridor, and the Hoon hurried to answer. “After you pass through the last door you will find yourself in a circular space. Go to the bright blue module located at the very center of the compartment, take hold of the red handle, and give it one full turn to the right.
“Once that’s accomplished, you must pull the handle, and the component to which the handle is attached, clear of the console. Then, assuming that you survive, you can return to my ship. Questions?”
Questions? Jepp had dozens, but the robots attacked right about then, and the conversation came to an abrupt end. Metal clanged as the oncoming wave smashed into Alpha. None of the units had weapons or were programmed for grasper-to-hand combat. That being the case, they fought like Sumo wrestlers, pushing, shoving, and bumping with their torsos. Alpha staggered under the onslaught, Sam danced the width of Jepp’s shoulders, and the human was forced to retreat.
There were lots of attackers, but the width of the passageway acted to concentrate them, thereby limiting the number that could make contact at any given moment. Still, the phalanx had force, and the intruders gave ground.
The whole thing was strange ... If the Hoon had taken over Alpha’s body, and the robots worked for the Hoon, why would they attack?
Jepp was still pondering that question, stilt trying to figure it out, when the Hoon-Alpha extended an arm. Bright blue electricity arced between it and one of the oncoming Sheen. A black spot appeared between the robot’s sensors, a wisp of smoke drifted away, and the construct collapsed on the deck. Another machine took the first robot’s place, another spark jumped the gap, and another unit fell. Jepp backpedaled, ducked a clumsy roundhouse right, and backpedaled again. That’s when something unexpected took place. Sam morphed into a configuration the prospector had never seen before, threw itself at one of the oncoming robots, and drilled a hole through the top of its shiny metal skull. The bit screamed, bright metal shavings curled toward the deck, and sparks jetted upwards. The machine jerked spasmodically, its joints locked, and it toppled forwards.
Sam rode the robot down, popped loose, and rolled away. The next victim didn’t even know it had even been selected until the diminutive machine swarmed up one of its legs, scampered onto its head. and started the drill.
Emboldened by the inroads achieved by his electromechanical allies. Jepp uttered a primal war cry, charged the machine in front of him, and pushed it over. Metal screeched on metal as the defender hit the deck. The human stepped on the robot’s abdomen and tackled the next unit in line. The battle raged hot and heavy for the next few minutes, started to wane as the causalities increased, and came to a sudden halt. The drill bit screamed as Sam left its most recent victim twitching on the deck. Eyes wild, adrenaline pumping, Jepp turned and charged for the opposite end of the corridor. Never mind the fact that he didn’t know who he was fighting, or why, the human wanted to win. “Come on!
This is our chance!”
Sam scrambled onto the prospector’s shoulder as Alpha charged forward and hit a force field of some sort. The robot staggered and started to convulse. The Hoon spoke but the words arrived one at a time.
“The force fields were designed for robots. Continue to the objective.”
Of course! Jepp thought to himself. That’s why the tricky pile of nuts and bolts recruited me—the security systems are designed to stop machines! Sheen machines since Sam remains unaffected. That’s when the thinking ended, lost in the rasp of his own breathing and the pounding of his pulse. The hatch! At the far end of the corridor—how would he get the damned thing open? That’s when Jepp remembered the pack, still pounding the lower part of his back, and the tools it contained. Maybe . . . just maybe ...
Hoon number two monitored the biological’s approach with a growing sense of dread. Hoon number one had not only conceived the assault but had actually participated in it. Why? A software problem?
No, not unless number two wanted to consider the possibility that it was vulnerable as well. The Thraki then ... a virus of some sort... or ...
The greenish blob knelt in front of the hatch, removed a colder object from its pack, and triggered a green-white flame. A torch! The soft body planned to bum its way in!
Hoon number two gathered the most critical aspects of itself into one digitized file, sent it down a fiber optic path bay, and hit some sort of blockage. The escape route had been severed!
There were others, backups, and backups for the backups. The computer intelligence tried each and every one of them. None were open. The trap had closed.
Metal glowed cherry red, turned liquid, and trickled toward the deck. The heat, reflected off the hatch, waned Jepp’s skin and drew sweat from his pores. Now, with a little time in which to think, ice cold fear trickled into the pit of his stomach. What lay in wait on the other side of the hatch?
The question went unanswered as metal surrendered to heat and a locking rod was severed. The door sagged, Jepp hit the “Off” switch, and the torch made a popping sound. He placed the tool on the deck. The recesses had been engineered for use by hands smaller than his but still managed to accommodate his fingers. Jepp lifted and felt the hatch roll reluctantly upwards. Success!
The human retriggered the torch, held it like a handgun, and crept forward. Woe be to the machine that got in his way!
The interior looked the way the Hoon said it would look. The compartment was circular. A blue console stood at its center. The exprospector pulled a 360 to ensure he was alone, released the trigger, and heard the torch pop.
The handle was red all right... and easy to spot. Jepp placed the torch on the deck, felt Sam leap off his shoulder, and wiped the palms of his hands. Here it was, what he’d been sent for, ready for the taking. The voice made him jump. It spoke highly stilted standard and came from all around. “Why are you doing this?” It sounded like the Hoon—only different somehow,