“At least, we won’t have to dive this time,” Michael said.
Les looked out the windows toward the ocean below but couldn’t see anything through the darkness. The thought of returning to the place where both Erin and Ramon had lost their lives made him nervous. And his nerves were already taut from other worries.
For the first time in decades, he was away from every member of his family. Katherine had hardly kissed him goodbye when he left, and even Phyl’s hug had felt lighter than normal.
You’re just being paranoid, Les. They love you, and they know you love them.
Soon, they would be reunited, as long as Commander Everhart’s crazy plan worked. For a moment, he tried to picture what life would be like if all the stars aligned and they managed to take the Metal Islands.
Would the losses required to get there be worth it?
Would he sacrifice himself so his family could live out its days on the surface?
Living in the sunshine, on the crystal-clear water, breathing fresh air. It seemed like a dream. And to get there, he would have to fight his way through a nightmare.
You can’t think that way. Failure starts with doubt. Trey and you will survive. You have to survive, for the fate of humanity.
“Lieutenant, come take a look at this one last time,” Michael said.
Les crossed the bridge, glad for the interruption. He hovered behind a station where Layla and Michael studied the blueprints of the defectors that Timothy had downloaded. Michael believed that the three of them could reprogram the machines after shutting them down, but Les wasn’t so sure. He had a background in electrical engineering, not artificial intelligence.
That’s what Timothy is here for, I guess.
“This is their central nervous system,” Layla said, looking at the display.
Les took a seat and examined the layout. The humanoid machines had hard, flexible spines, just like humans, and a network of wires analogous to human veins.
“We built them to look like us,” he said.
“But they aren’t anything like us,” Layla said. “They are programmed for one thing only: killing.”
“Right, which is why we need them.” Michael clicked on the screen to pull up an inside view of the metal-encased brain. “The question is, how do we program them to kill only Cazador soldiers.”
“That’s where Timothy comes in,” Layla said.
“I will program them to destroy only those humans who pose a threat and are carrying weapons.”
“And if some kid picks up a gun?” Michael asked.
“I can stipulate that they don’t target anyone below a certain age group,” Timothy replied, “but there is no guarantee.”
No one spoke until Michael broke the silence by tapping the screen. “The defectors have a supercomputer the size of a fingernail, encased in a titanium-alloy skull. The rest of the endoskeleton is a lab-created hyperalloy metal.”
“That explains why our bullets didn’t do shit at Red Sphere,” Layla said. “Good thing we have the laser rifle.”
“With luck, we won’t need it,” Michael said. He closed his eyes, no doubt feeling another wave of pain in an arm that wasn’t there.
Layla had been by his side the entire time. “You sure you’re up for this?” she asked.
Michael nodded with a slight grimace. “The arm is almost fully healed thanks to the nanotechnology. It’s just these damn phantom pains.” He looked down at the stump, then back to Les and Layla. “You guys ready?”
Layla nodded.
“Ready as I’m going to be,” Les replied. “But I do have a question for Timothy about that EMP bomb. I’m an electrician by trade, so please explain how we’ll be able to bring the machines back online after we fry them.”
“Good question, Lieutenant,” Timothy said. “The exoskeleton protects their interior parts from EMP weapons, but their batteries are vulnerable. Theoretically, the EMP bomb should shut them down, and before restarting them, we will reprogram them.”
“It’s a good plan,” Michael said.
Les wasn’t sure whether Michael was seeking agreement or trying to convince himself. And while Les didn’t like a mission with such a theoretical outcome, he couldn’t see any better options. If the defectors could save human soldiers from going into battle, then so be it.
“Timothy, prepare to drop the EMP bomb on my order,” Michael said. “We’re headed out.”
“Roger, sir. And good luck.”
Michael moved over to the comms station. “All hands, this is Commander Everhart. We are preparing to descend over the target. Please get to your designated stations.”
The three divers left Timothy standing in the center of the bridge. Their first stop was the armory, where they prepared their gear and suited up.
Unlike on other dives, they weren’t sending down any supply crates. Everything they needed was going down attached to them. Most of it was electrical equipment and weapons, although Les doubted that bullets would have any more effect on the defectors than last time, should they encounter any that withstood the EMP blast.
Suiting up took longer than normal, with Layla helping Michael get into his armor. She finished by giving him two painkillers. He swallowed them with a gulp of water.
“I’m good,” Michael said confidently when he saw Les scrutinizing him.
The commander tucked his ponytail into the back of his armor, grabbed his bag, and led them back into the passageway to the cargo bay. Timothy’s white glow illuminated the dim space.
“The most recent weather scan has revealed only a slight electrical disturbance in the drop zone,” he said. “In other words, we should be fine to descend.”
Famous last words, Les thought. He walked through the hatch of the cargo bay, recalling the time Timothy had malfunctioned here upon seeing his dead family.
The memory only added to Les’ anxiety, and he hesitated as he approached the launch bay doors. Michael and Layla were already there, waiting with their gear bags on the platform.
Les slung his carbine over his shoulder and carried his packs out.
You dive so your family survives, he reminded himself.
“System checks,” Michael said.
“Raptor Two online,” Layla replied.
Les checked his HUD and systems one last time. “Raptor Four online.”
Timothy joined the divers by the door and looked down at the lift gate they were standing on. His shape flickered, and for a second Les tensed up, worried that Timothy might have another episode.
The AI’s form solidified, and he pulled at the cuffs of his suit jacket. “The EMP bomb is prepped and ready to drop, Commander.”
“Execute,” Michael replied.
A distant clank sounded, but no explosion or blast followed—only the dull vibration of the ship’s engines under their boots.
“How long until we know if it worked?” Layla asked.
“Only a few minutes for my infrared sensors to scan,” Timothy said.
“Weren’t these models designed with stealth technology aimed at reducing infrared signatures?” Michael asked.
“Good question, Commander. And yes, they were, but I’ve reprogrammed the sensors on Deliverance to look for the faint exhaust plume that the battery on the DEF-Nine units produces. It’s one of their only flaws.”
It didn’t sound foolproof to Les, but it did make him feel a little better.
They waited in silence, listening to the hum of mechanical systems and the distant roll of thunder. As Les stood there, a memory from his last trip to Red Sphere surfaced, but he pushed it aside.
“I’m detecting a complete blackout on and below the surface of Red Sphere,” Timothy said. “The EMP bomb successfully fried the grid and shut down the defectors. There is no trace of an exhaust plume from any of my scans, which means the machines still down there are, as you say, toast.”