Each time Ho or Binh managed to snap off a shot one of the enemy would spin round and drop. They didn’t falter, however. They kept on coming with the same slow measured tread.
A cold feeling began to spread through Jeb Stuart Ho. The only chance he had to hit back at these Stuff Central programmed zombies was when the hail of needles faltered for a moment. The opportunities were too few to stop the entire force before they reached him and Lorenzo Binh.
For the first time he realized that this mission was liable to fail. His only consolation was that he would not survive to live with that failure.
The line of white helmeted figures was only thirty metres away. Needles hammered steadily into the control panel. Jeb Stuart Ho had no chance to move. He was about to prepare for the end, when something inside him revolted. If he was going to die, he might at least die a warrior’s death. He spoke into his communicator.
‘Can you hear me, Lorenzo Binh?’
‘I hear you, Jeb Stuart Ho.’
‘It is all over. I am going to make one final rush. It is not fitting that a warrior should die hiding from the needle guns of the enemy.’
There was a short pause. Then Lorenzo Binh answered in a firm voice.
‘I’m with you, Jeb Stuart Ho.’
As Jeb Stuart Ho tensed himself to jump, the firing ceased. He cautiously stuck his head out. The enemy had turned and were falling back to places of safety among the machinery. Jeb Stuart Ho watched in amazement as they retreated, leaving their dead on the floor.
Jeb Stuart Ho stood up.
‘Lorenzo Binh, something is happening. They’ve moved back.’
Lorenzo Binh also stood up.
‘So I see, Jeb Stuart Ho.’
The two men emerged from cover with guns and swords in their hands. They walked slowly down the huge room until they reached the body of the nearest defender. Not a shot was fired at them. Lorenzo Binh halted and looked at Ho.
‘What do we do now, Jeb Stuart Ho?’
Jeb Stuart Ho pointed with his gun to the far end of the room.
‘We will go on.’
‘What do you hope to find, Jeb Stuart Ho?’
‘If we go far enough we will find the central brain core of the computer.’
‘And when we find it?’
‘I will reason with it. What else can you do with a psychotic computer?’
Lorenzo Binh cast a doubtful glance at the massed defenders positioned among the machinery.
‘Are you sure this is the wisest course?’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him in surprise.
‘Is it not our mission?’
‘It is possible we may not reach the other end of this room.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him gravely.
‘Then we will, at least, have achieved an honourable failure.’
He started to walk slowly forward. Lorenzo Binh hesitated briefly and then followed him.
At first nothing happened. The defenders remained under cover, silently watching. They’d walked about twenty paces when a section of the far wall began to slide upwards with a low rumble. The two men halted and watched. The wall stopped moving, leaving a high wide opening. Inside, it was totally dark. They heard a high pitched hum. Something moved in the darkness. From the opening came a massive humanoid robot.
It was twice the height of Jeb Stuart Ho. Its square black metal body was supported on two trunklike legs. Each ended in a set of caterpillar tracks. It was on these that it glided forward. On the top of the body was a roughly cube shaped head. It narrowed towards the top and heightened the sense of human parody in the design. On either side of the head were protuberant groups of multi-sensors that gave the impression of insect eyes. It had two sets of arms that ended in different, specialized pincers. Lorenzo Binh whispered into his communicator.
‘Can this be the essential brain?’
Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.
‘I fear it is some kind of weapon that has been sent against us.’
As though in confirmation, two doors flipped open in the robot’s chest to reveal a battery of needle guns. The robot swivelled slightly, paused and then let fly a stream of the sharp steel projectiles. Lorenzo Binh screamed as the blast lifted him off his feet. He pitched backwards and hit the floor like a discarded doll. His face and the front of his body had been reduced to a bloody pulp.
Jeb Stuart Ho began firing, at the same time bracing himself for the burst of needles that, he was sure, would kill him next. His bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the robot’s body. Even its sensors seemed protected from damage. He went on firing until the slide of the big .90 magnum jammed open as the clip emptied. The expected hail of needles didn’t come. The robot just stood there.
Jeb Stuart Ho let the gun fall to the floor and gripped his sword with both hands. He waited for whatever would happen next.
The human defenders began to emerge from cover and advance towards him. They too didn’t fire. As they came close he leaped at them and dropped two with a single stroke of his blade. The ones in front dodged and tried to parry his savage sweeps with the butts of their guns. He surrounded himself with a pile of bodies, but even that didn’t compensate for the weight of numbers. He found himself being herded slowly and surely towards the motionless robot. For the first time, Jeb Stuart Ho realized they might be trying to take him alive.
The machine started to roll forward. The green clad ranks divided. The robot came straight towards Jeb Stuart Ho. He made a futile slash at it, but the robot was even faster than his trained muscles. It grabbed the blade with a single pincer, snapped it in half and tossed it on one side.
Jeb Stuart Ho reached quickly for his nunchak. Before his hand could detach it from its straps his arms had been pinned to his sides by two of the robot’s arms. A third arm shattered the armoured plexiglass of his helmet as though it was an egg. He was lifted off his feet. The robot held him so his face was just centimetres from its metal head. A small tube snapped out from between its eyes.
The robot blew a puff of yellowish gas straight into Jeb Stuart Ho’s face. He took a single breath, and the blackness of oblivion engulfed him.
***
When She/They first perceived the sphere hanging in the swirling space it appeared to be held up by thousands of beams of bright pulsing light. She/They knew that they were not actually supporting it, but nevertheless She/They stopped and regarded it for a long time, experiencing the closest emotion to awe that She/They was capable of feeling.
Its symmetry and perfection filled Her/Them with a precise joy. And yet that joy was short lived. Madness spun off the sphere like tiny droplets of a thick black viscous liquid. They hung in bands round it like filthy clouds of corruption. She/They knew that entity was very sick. She/They also perceived something even more sinister than the bands of insanity. A number of disrupters drifted across the surface of the sphere. Despite the amount of energy circulating through the sphere they showed no inclination to attack.
‘Contrary to their normal behaviour the disrupters do not move against the sphere.’
‘This would indicate a special relationship between the sphere and the disrupters.’
‘This would indicate that the sphere is their source.’
‘This hypothesis is reinforced by the evident sickness that can be detected round the sphere.’
‘We must move forward. Only at close quarters can we apply the energy to heal the sphere.’
‘Probability indicates we have only a minimal chance of achieving such an objective.’
‘Emotion indicates fear.’
‘Ensurance of our continued existence indicates we should withdraw.’
‘Forward projection indicates that even if we withdraw, we will still fall victim to a disrupter within a calculable period.’
‘Forward analysis indicates our best chance of long term existence is to nullify the disrupters.’