"Semper fi, marine!" Sergeant Flick Aldridge grabbed the downed pilot by the arm and dragged him over the pile of junk they were using for cover. "You injured, sir?"
"No. I'm good." HoundDog rested with his back against the wall of the foxhole, holding on to his rifle with a deathgrip.
"Samuels. Welcome to our little hellhole." Second Lieutenant James offered the pilot his right hand while firing his rifle over the edge of the redoubt with his left. Several other AEMs lined up along the edge of the refuse materials and nodded at HoundDog, but none of the marines took their eyes off the advancing line of enemy troops or their fingers off their triggers.
An RPG hammered against the rim of the foxhole about twenty- five meters down the line, sending two AEMs flying backward across the planetoid's surface in a white and orange ball of expanding vapor. The explosion spread out in a sphere of hot gas but was mostly dissipated by the time it reached HoundDog.
"We can't hold this position for long if we don't get backup," the sergeant shouted. Another wave of enemy troops bounced into the open toward them.
"I'm not armored up like you guys, but I'm an extra gun," HoundDog offered. He rose up over the edge and fired several rounds. The targeting system in his rifle transmitted a yellow X in his DTM mindview that overlaid his vision. The X crossed the armored enemy troop several times, and each time, HoundDog let a burst of automatic railgun fire loose at him. After a few tries, the rounds tore through the armor of the soldier's chest plate, ripping out through his back. "Seein's how my mecha was blown all to hell, I've got nothing else to do, Sarge."
"Oorah, sir," Aldridge replied.
Chapter 21
October 31, 2388 A.D.
Orlando, Florida
Saturday, 7:39 AM, Earth Eastern Standard Time
The Starhawk pulled over the Hall of Presidents and hovered about twenty meters above the ground. Alexander picked Calvin Dean up in his arms and then jumped out. His jumpboots kicked the ground with a thud. He promptly set the cameraman beside him and drew his railgun. The Starhawk pulled quickly away from the amusement park's airspace.
"You okay, Dean?" Moore asked through his open visor. Old AEM habits died hard.
"Yes. Shit, that was a thrill!"
"Well, start broadcasting and stay alert. If I tell you to take cover, you do it." Moore had not asked the reporter to come along with him. In fact, he had contacted ENN to get a live-feed hookup to his suit. But the crazy action reporter begged Moore to let him come along. Alexander had emphasized the danger, but that didn't seem to matter. And Dean and Gail Fehrer had been really good to Moore, so when the reporter had asked him to consider this "calling in his last favor," Moore had to accept. Well, he didn't have to, but he did anyway.
Several AI presidents met them and led them to the interior of the Disney World exhibit. They were led down the hallway through the theater and into an employees only area behind the White House interior façade. By Abigail's estimate, the body count should be at over thirty by now, but at least now it would stop. Of course, Alexander wasn't really sure that the damned bots were going to let the civilians go once he had surrendered. He had an ace up his sleeve for that, he hoped.
"Okay, Calvin. Stay back and out of the way and keep safe. And put this in your pocket and hold on to it." He handed the cameraman a small device about the size of a wristwatch without the band and then pushed him back away gently with his armored left hand. Presidents Garfield and Truman led them to a backroom past a line of dead bodies, all with what seemed to be head wounds from a railpistol. "Murdering . . ." He bit his tongue, realizing that what he was saying was going out across the country.
"Alexander Moore." The AI Sienna Madira rose from a workbench when they turned into a shop room. The AI looked as much like the former great president as she did herself. The likeness startled Alexander at first.
"Let the civilians go."
"Not just yet." The AI held up a medical diagnostic tool and waved it in front of his face. "Very well. You are indeed Alexander Moore. Your persistence, perseverance, and tenacity are quite impressive."
"I'm not here to impress you. Let the people go."
Abigail, are you ready yet?
Almost have it, sir. Keep her talking.
Hurry the fuck up.
Yes, sir.
"I said, let them go." Moore held the muzzle of the HVAR against the bot's forehead. "Now!"
"Of course. That was our bargain." The AI turned from Moore, paying no attention to the railgun in its face. "The prisoners are free to leave if they wish."
Robot presidents released their grasp on several people who were next in line to be executed. Frightened beyond coherent thought, a handful of them weren't sure what to do. Moore was.
"Run. Go now!" he shouted at them and amplified his voice with the suit's external speakers. That was enough to snap them out of their fear—at least enough for them to run. "Go to the exit on Main Street U.S.A."
"Now you come with me," the AI president said.
"Wait. Not until I know that every last human is clear of the parks."
"There is no need for that, or time."
"What do you mean, no time? I'm not budging until I know you have freed all of the hostages. I have all day." Calvin Dean remained quiet but kept his camera pointed at the two presidents, one an AI likeness and the other an inactive one in a marine armored e-suit.
Abigail reported to Moore, I have the QM hopping frequencies that the AIs are using to control the bots. I can jam them whenever you are ready. Be advised that the AI will probably send the detonate signal as the jamming goes into place. As soon as they overcome the jamming, the bomb will go. Abigail had realized from the start that Ahmi must be using similar code as she did on Mars with the AI kitties. The AI used wireless QM-spread spectrum broadcasts to control the robots' control algorithms. There was no hardwire between them. This was a wireless hack, and Abigail had figured out how to jam it by finding the frequencies that the hack was using.
The Tyler?
It's ready when we are, sir.
Good girl.
"Follow me. We have to go."
Now Abigail!
Yes, sir.
Abigail toggled the QM broad-spectrum transmitter in Moore's suit on. The spectrum had been tailored to the spectrum-hopping sequence that the AIs were using, and when it kicked on, the noise floor of the band went through the roof nonlinearly. The signal-to- noise level increased so much that the AIs lost wireless connectivity with the robots. Moore reached into his carry pack and dropped one of the transceivers on the ground, leaving a second one in his pack with him. He grabbed the Sienna Madira bot around the torso and opened a channel to the U.S.S. John Tyler, in hover orbit above them.
"Mobile One to CO Tyler. Beam us up!"
"CO Tyler. Copy that, Mobile One."
"What the . . ." Calvin said as a bright white light snapped and crackled around them, sounding like frying bacon. A split second later, the three of them were standing inside a chamber that looked like the inside of a spaceship. There were AEMs standing with their weapons drawn, and a Navy captain was there just in front of them.
"Welcome to the U.S.S. John Tyler, Mr. President." Captain Ronald Westerfield held out his hand. Moore shook it. Dean captured all of it on live feed to ENN.