“No,” I said, “they are thinking about me. They love me, you see. They love Colonel Kyle Riggs.”
I took a deep breath, then gave them a little speech: “Macro Command? I know you can hear me. You are all going the wrong damned direction. You are a bunch of clueless, shit-for-brains toasters. Colonel Kyle Riggs is right here, and he is laughing at you.”
“Sir?” asked Gorski, sounding confused.
“What are they doing now?”
“Ah-they seem to have turned around. They are heading forward, to the nose of the ship. They are all converging on your position, Colonel.”
I nodded in my helmet and smiled grimly. “Stupid toasters,” I said. “I suppose I should feel flattered.”
I stopped messing around then and I ran for all I was worth. Every bulkhead door I passed I threw closed behind me and locked-but I didn’t figure that would stop them for more than a few minutes.
I ran to the very forward ports of the ship, where big Macro sensor systems were located. Our compact sensors were up there sitting around with their more powerful arrays. We hadn’t figured out how to operate their systems yet, so they’d never been much use.
I aimed my heavy laser at a spot that was dented in. The hull wasn’t quite as thick or strong there. I switched on the projector and shot the dented spot in the hull. I kept the firing stud down for long seconds until my eyes hurt from the brilliant light and my feet felt the heat of molten metal right through my suit.
I kept on firing, burning my way out of the ship.
31
“Major Sarin?” I called, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t easy, as my plan was so crazy it was all I could do to keep my mind from freezing over. “Jasmine?”
“Colonel?” Sarin finally responded. She sounded a little shook up. “I think we are losing this fight, sir. We can’t stop them.”
“I know,” I said. “Here’s what you are going to do. On my next signal, even if I can’t get out an articulate word, I want you to kill the main engines and fire the braking jets in the nose. Just give one tiny pulse on the jets, enough to brake us by a few hundred klicks per hour.”
“I’m not sure I can control this system that precisely,” she said.
“Try. And whatever you do, don’t change course.”
“Uh, yes sir.”
“Where are they now?” I asked.
“The main Macro force appears to be clustered forward at the nose. They are pausing at each bulkhead, but quickly burning through them.”
I was glad the Macros still believed in simple, lockable gear-based hatches. If they had put in complex combination locks or something, they could have just ordered them to open with a wireless transmission. That wasn’t their style, however. They liked big and basic. They were into primitive functionality wherever they could get away with it. I admired their design. Without all the manual systems, most of this ship would be inoperable after having suffered so much damage. My Jolly Rodger bore the scars of a dozen fights, but she was still flying.
“Colonel Riggs?” Sarin’s voice came into my helmet again.
I was busy kicking at the circular area of cherry-red metal at my feet. It didn’t want to give.
“Colonel?” called Sarin, I could hear the sound of rising panic in her voice. “Kyle?”
“Riggs here,” I responded. As I did I heard a ripping sound-like that of tortured metal nearby.
“They are breaking through, sir. They’ve bypassed your hatches and burned their way through the walls.”
“Got it,” I said. I began burning the spot at my feet again. I figured it only had to be a little bigger around than my shoulders. “Get ready to kill the engines and brake.”
She said something else, but I didn’t catch what it was. I suddenly realized, I wasn’t going to be able to burn through the outer hull. I gave up on drilling, it was just too thick. It wasn’t going to work in time. I ran instead to the nearest airlock.
There was a Macro there, waiting for me. It didn’t know it was waiting for me, of course. It was trying to burn its way into my chamber and burn me down to a charred pile of molecules. It was between me and airlock exit hatch, so I didn’t get fancy. I rushed it, and got in close. I don’t think these Macros were built with that tactic in mind. I supposed they were used to biotics running from them and getting themselves gunned down. Instead, I grappled with it.
Sometimes, something that sounded good at first glance doesn’t turn out the way you planned. This was one of those times. I felt like I’d grappled a backhoe that wanted to go someplace. I was immediately thrown into the air, my legs flying freely. I kept hold of the main gun on its head-section, however.
The side beams went off, stitching air with bolts of energy. One of my feet took a hit. It didn’t really hurt, but my toes felt numb. I suspected some of them were now missing. Nanites rushed to the region, patching my suit and my flesh indiscriminately.
I grabbed onto the big nozzle as it swiveled in my direction. If that thing even grazed me, I knew I was dead. Hanging onto it with both hands, I saw more Macros coming up behind the first one. They looked excited, like ants that smelled dead meat. They weren’t firing yet, perhaps out of some kind of respect for their fellow Macro, but I suspected they would only be able to contain themselves for so long. The moment they lost control they would blast us both.
I was riding the main nozzle now, and it was firing. I thought I must look ridiculous, like a cowboy riding an annoyed elephant by clinging to the trunk. It began to fire off and on, and I got an idea. I twisted, I heaved and I levered, bracing my feet against the Macro’s front head-plate. The nozzle viciously ripped this way and that in my hands, servos whining.
I shook my generator pack off and threw it toward the spot I’d tried to burn through. I aimed the nozzle that way, and the Macro took the bait. It fired at my backpack and the dangling laser projector unit. I wrenched the projector so it missed, but the gouting energy still hit the hull. It took another shot, then another. Suddenly, that section of the hull burned through. The forward section of Jolly Rodger began to depressurize. I felt the tug of escaping gasses, but hung on.
Right about then, the Macros trying to get through behind the first one lost patience. Maybe they thought I was getting away. Maybe it was a group decision, maybe not, but they burned down the one I held onto. A half-dozen beams flared and flashed. The Macro lasted a few seconds, then turned into slag. I crawled away, keeping the twitching machine between me and the others in the corridor behind it. I crept to the hole in the front of the ship and crawled out. I picked up the mine, which was magnetically stuck to the deck plates, on the way out.
This was the tricky part. I didn’t even have a rifle any longer. I only had my suit, a knife, a beam pistol and the star-shaped mine I’d grabbed on the way out. The problem was, now that I was out in open space the Macros following me would be able to nail me instantly. Already, they were burning their way out here, popping the welded-shut airlocks and widening the hole I’d burnt through the hull.
My original plan had been simple, if crazy. I was going to get the swarm to fly after me, then toss the mine into the middle of them. I hadn’t expected to survive the experience, but if I killed enough of them, my marines should be able to finish the rest. I realized the problem with my plan was they wouldn’t all come out and fly after me in a convenient, tight mass. The first one that got outside would find me standing there without cover and blast me. End of story.
“Sarin?” I called.
“You’re still alive, sir?” she asked.
I was a little miffed by her tone. But I reminded myself that on her screen, the blip that was me had probably shared a very close proximity to a whole bunch of pissed machines for a long time.
“Yeah,” I said. I crouched and flipped off my magnetics. I began to float away from the cruiser. “Jasmine, it’s been good serving with you,” I told her.