* * *
“What do you mean, No!?” Veck shouted. He was beyond angry. In all his training there had never been a mention of a Bolo not following its commander’s orders. It wasn’t possible, yet Rover had just refused his direct order.
He was about to demand an explanation, when on his main screen he saw the shadows of the dreadnought open fire on the retreating Tasmanian. The transport didn’t stand a chance. It was blown into a cloud of debris.
Veck smashed his fist on the panel. “Now look what you’ve done!” he shouted at Rover. “The Tasmanian was the pride of the regiment. Now it’s gone, and it’s all your fault, you insubordinate machine.”
Desperate, Veck knew exactly what he had to do. He slammed his head back in to the crash couch and activated the neural link. If the machine wouldn’t take a direct verbal command, he’d take over the machine in another way. If he didn’t do something quickly, men were going to die.
* * *
We reel from the shock of joining of purpose and logic, of neurons with superconducting circuits. The biological portion of I/we is filled with rage and single-minded intensity. The enemy must be destroyed.
The way is given.
The command is given.
Overwhelmed, the cybernetic portion of I/we responds with speed and efficiency, even as it communicates the reason I/we must not act.
Slowly, the biological elements of I/we comprehend.
So slowly.
Even as the cybernetic command goes out to our brothers. In unison the Hellrails spit plasma fire.
The comprehension is total.
I/we understand what we have done.
At cybernetic speeds we can watch the bolts in their courses, but are powerless to call them back.
As one we scream.
* * *
Orren didn’t make it to the cargo hold.
Around him the ship was jolted, then under him the deck buckled, and conduits exploded throwing shrapnel everywhere.
Orren hit the deck, stunned, his mind trying to grasp exactly what was going on, but clearly not able to.
Alarms sounded even louder than before around him.
An automated voice called for “abandon ship.”
Abandon ship? How could he leave the ship? Ziggy was here. He had to get to Ziggy.
Though a nearby port he could see another ship gutted like a fish, vomiting fire.
He tried to stand. He had to get to Ziggy. But his legs didn’t want to work right.
Through the haze in his brain he reached down and felt blood on his legs.
That didn’t matter. He was close to the cargo hold. He would crawl to Ziggy.
Then suddenly a figure loomed over him. A rough figure with an angry face.
“You got to learn to follow orders, Lieutenant,” Blonk said right in Orren’s face, his voice punching over the noise of the alarms and the ship breaking apart.
“Got to get to Ziggy.”
“Trust the Bolo,” Blonk said. “It can take care of itself. Right now you’re the problem here.”
Blonk lifted Orren and without so much as a groan staggered toward an escape pod.
Escape pods were little things, more like a coffin than a spaceship. And just big enough for one customer per pod.
Blonk threw Orren inside one and leaned in. “Just one pod, lad, the rest are scrap. That alarms means the reactor’s going to blow any second now.”
Blonk stepped back and started to close the door. Then almost as an afterthought he leaned back in. “You get down there, kid, you make sure I get a damned big medal, the biggest they got.”
Orren raised his arm in a feeble attempt to salute Blonk.
Master Sergeant Blonk smiled and stepped back. The hatch sealed to the escape pod and the pod autoejected, the force sending Orren into unconsciousness.
A moment later the entire cargo pod was blasted free of the freighter as the forward third of the Cannon Beach crumpled under the wave of energy rushing up from Delas, exploding as its engines reacted to the wall of raging force sweeping over the ship.
* * *
On the big screen, General Kiel watched as all the ghosts of the dreadnought began to spill wreckage. Wounded, it struggled back into deep space and returned to warp.
Around the planet much of the Kezdai fleet followed the wounded big ship, covering its retreat.
On the ground, the Kezdai forces regrouped and solidified their lines well south of Starveil.
The day had been won, but the cost was great.
Kiel stood, staring at the remains of the battle. War always cost lives. But some wars, some battles just seemed to cost a little more. This was one of those.
And before it could happen again, before the Kezdai could regroup again, he was going to drive them from this planet if it was the last thing he and his Bolos did.
* * *
Through Bolo optical sensors a thousand times more sensitive than the human eye we watch the sky, stars eclipsed by man-made stars, the wreckage of Kezdai ships, and of our own convoy. The damage reports come in, verifying what our sensors already tell us. Six ships damaged, one heavily, two lost, including the Cannon Beach.
We know what we have done. We have destroyed our brother Bolo.
We have killed our friend.
We have killed our own, not out of necessity, but of oversight, carelessness, confusion.
We watch as an especially bright shooting star arcs through the sky, some piece of the Cannon Beach. We watch it fall.
Our clarity is finally, finally, total.
Make it stop.
Section Two:
TO THE RESCUE
[exclamdown]
One
Ten-year-old Jask Morton glanced around at the small, six-wheeled truck he called Bessy, moving up the trail behind him. “You can do it,” he said to Bessy. “Just take your time.”
The truck was actually nothing more than a large wagon, coming up no higher on Jask than his stomach. But it had a motor and could go almost anywhere on voice command. It slowly climbed over rocks and bumps in the trail, using its balloon tires to keep its bed level.
Jask watched for a moment, then went forward, whistling as he went. Bessy went everywhere with him.
Around him the mountains of Delas’s southern continent towered into the sky with rocky peaks that seldom lost their snow. It was a harsh area, with angry storms and little food. Valley walls were steep, often too steep for even Jask to climb, let alone Bessy. And the valley floors were often covered in brush and trees too thick for either of them to get through.
This was also an area behind Kezdai lines. The Kezdai had swept through and over the area during the first invasion. Many Delas survivors of the invasion had taken refuge in the mountains, hiding in mine shafts and small camps scattered among the rocks and trees in the steep valleys. Most of them felt they were only waiting for the moment the Kezdai found it convenient to come and wipe them out.
A large group of the refugees in this area, a few hundred or so total, clustered in a mine camp called Rockgate. But not Jask Morton. He very seldom went into Rockgate. He didn’t trust all the people and the way they looked at him.
Jask was the son of geologist parents. He and his parents had been in the mountains during the invasion, studying the planet’s crust for the mining corporations. His parents had hidden him deep in an old mine on the side of a steep valley when a Kezdai patrol approached. They had never returned to get him, so Jask had climbed out two days later and found them dead. Jask, being old enough to survive on his own, had lived in the mining camp ever since.
The camp was built around a research shaft that plunged deep under the mountain. Along the shaft, long side shafts and laser carved chambers housed scientific equipment. One side chamber was walled up, though, the opening filled with rocks lifted there by Jask’s hands. On it was a hand-painted sign that read “my mom and dad.” It was where Jask had buried them.
As Jask reached the top of the pass, he stopped under a tree and looked back at Bessy. The afternoon sun was warm and he used the time to take a drink. His dad had always told him to drink plenty of water when he was hiking and Jask had never forgotten that instruction. Bessy even carried extra water for him so he would never run out.
Down the trail about fifty steps the little truck with no cab or seat was making its way just fine. Jask knew it would. It was smart.
In the bed of the truck was the stuff he’d found at an old cabin down in the valley. A bunch of pots and pans, some wire, lots of really great things that might come in handy some day. He’d tied and taped all the stuff in Bessy, and so far Bessy hadn’t lost any of it, even over the roughest spots in the trail.