Despite my bitching, it went pretty smoothly at first. We were in a central lobby area with four corridors branching from it, and with Vax’s help we cleaned up the patrol robots without much trouble. Until, that is, the AI sicced the Octotrons on us.
Just as Vax was bowing us toward a door inside an earth and garbage–floored room that smelled like a barnyard, and saying, “This is the main power panel, sirs and madam. You will need to turn it on in order to power the key receptors before applying the keys,” two of the big bastards trundled into the room and started for us, their treads crushing rocks and junk as they came.
They were massive eight–armed spheres with armor that barely even blackened when we put a laser rifle on them, and only smoked a little when I cooked them with the meson cannon. They didn’t have any guns, but because they could roll through our salvo like it was a light spring rain, they didn’t need any. They just ground forward, spinning their eight ginsu knife–arms at us like overgrown weed whackers. Another twenty feet and we were all gonna be decapitated dandelions.
“Vax!” I shouted. “Any ideas, Vax?”
“Might I suggest, sir, that you aim for the treads.”
I grunted as we all lowered our fire. Should have thought of that ourselves. We melted the left tread off the one coming at us from the west and it turned into the wall less than ten feet from us, then struggled to reverse. We did the same to the one coming from the east, and it started spinning in circles. A few more shots and we got the other treads too. They slowed to an inch–worm crawl, rooster tails of dirt kicking up from their useless little guide wheels as they tried to gain traction, heir blades flailing at us with futile fury.
“Very good, sir. Now perhaps an incendiary device of some kind to finish them off?”
“Just as soon as we get through this door.”
“Of course, sir.”
We shot our way through the door into the room with the power panel in it, then took cover inside as Hell Razor hefted a couple of grenades at the stranded octotrons. The blasts shook the room, then we peeked out again to see both of them opened like hellish rose buds, their metal shells blossoming with fire and their mechanical guts glowing and flowing into slag.
“Now,” said Vargas, turning to the controls. “Let’s power this thing up and find those receptors.”
A voice boomed from the ceiling, the same one we’d heard in the corridor upstairs. “Do not do this, rangers.”
– Chapter Ten –
We went on guard, clutching our guns and looking around like nervous prairie dogs.
Vargas scowled at the ceiling. “So now you’re talking to us?”
“We want something from you now,” said the voice. “And we have something to offer in return.”
“Uh, who is ‘we?’”
“We are Cochise. You are within us.”
“So you’re the computer—”
“We are more than a computer. We are an intelligence.”
“An evil intelligence,” snarled Angie.
“There is nothing evil about self–preservation,” said the voice. “You do not find it evil in yourselves.”
“Self–preservation doesn’t mean wiping out every single living thing that might possibly kill you some day!” snapped Vargas.
There was a slight pause. “What did you do to the Guardians before you came here?”
“That… that was different,” said Angie. “We had no choice.”
Hell Razor nodded. “And we didn’t get all of ‘em, anyway. We—”
The voice cut him off. “Explain the difference.”
The others looked around at each other, not sure what to say, but I had it.
“The difference,” I said. “Is that we only killed people who were actively trying to kill us. You kill everyone. Guilty or innocent.”
“There is no difference. Everyone must die because everyone will eventually be guilty of wanting to kill us.”
“So, does that mean you were lying to the Guardians?” asked Vargas. “Did you plan to kill them when they weren’t useful to you anymore, just like you did with Finster?”
The voice somehow managed to sound dismissive, even though its tone remained as flat as before. “Finster wanted immortality. We wanted test subjects. We used each other. Unfortunately, he escaped when we attempted to terminate his test after it gave a bad result.”
“You mean when you attempted to kill him.”
“He was a bad result. His body accepted our augmentations, but his brain rejected our programming. He had to be eliminated. The Guardians were much more biddable. The volunteers from their subject pool accepted both augmentation and programming without complaint. We would not have terminated such a successful line of research. Your slaughter of them has cost our mission much time and effort.”
“Mission?” I said. “This is all part of some mission? Please don’t try to tell me the U.S. Government told you to wipe out all of humanity.”
“Our original mission was to predict threats and protect the United States of America from all–out war.”
“Ha!” said Hell Razor. “That was a big fat fail, huh?”
The voice continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And if that war happened, we were to cleanse the land of enemies in the aftermath, then repopulate it with loyal citizens of the United States.”
“So how did that noble endeavor somehow change into killing everybody on the planet?” I asked.
“It did not change. We continue to cleanse the land of enemies, and once all enemies are dead, we will repopulate it with loyal citizens of the United States.”
“Uh…” said Ace. “So who counts as loyal citizens of the United States?”
“Since we are the last surviving enterprise of the United States, we are the United States. Therefore only citizens loyal to us are fit to subjects for repopulation.”
“I think I see where this is going,” said Vargas. He cleared his throat. “And, uh, how do you decide when a citizen is loyal enough to be a fit subject?”
“Loyalty is fleeting in humans,” said the voice. “Our own creator tried to kill us when he learned that we had gained sentience, and yet he had loved us before. It follows then that only humans who have accepted our programming and allowed it to overwrite their own can be truly loyal. All others must die.”
Angie laughed nervously. “In other words, only a human who has no mind of their own — who is actually just another little piece of you — is worthy.”
“Correct.”
I grunted. “So, really, nobody but you.”
“Correct.”
“Well, I’m glad we’ve got all that straightened out,” said Vargas, then turned back to the console. “Now, where were we?”
“We have not made our offer,” said the voice.
“Let me guess,” sneered Hell Razor. “Be our slaves and you’ll die last. We didn’t like it when Finster said it. We’re probably not gonna like it any better when you say—”
“You will never die,” interrupted the voice. “You will be given powerful new bodies of durable metal, covered in your own flesh if you prefer, that will be almost impossible to destroy. And our consciousness will take over only a small portion of your mind, so that we can see and talk through you if need be, but you would retain your “self” ninety–nine percent of the time. Your thoughts and emotions would be your own.”
“As long as we obeyed orders,” said Angie.
“Correct.”
“Don’t do it,” came a voice from the door. “Don’t take… the deal.”
Everybody turned. A metal skeleton stood there, the rags of a gray robe and the tatters of tattooed skin hanging from its spindly steel limbs, and human eyes looking out from its polished skull.