Goliath, p.37
Goliath, page 37
"Why did you let him make them?"
"I couldn't stop him. He is quite mad. He is not a military AI, Julian. He was not conditioned to watch his crew ...his friends die. It was too much for him."
Enderby reentered the laboratory, stopping short as he caught sight of Sollander hammering on the door. Did he really want to release these people? Did he have a choice?
"What do you want?" Sollander demanded.
"Wait, I am going to open the door." Julian stepped up to the cell, his hand hovering over the mechanism.
"Before you do, tell me the truth. Who are you?"
"We don't have time."
"Tell me!"
He hesitated a moment longer. Did it matter? "Sergeant Julian Enderby of the Second Mountain Devision, Antanari Self Defence Force. I stole a supply ship when the Dyson shield fell. I wanted to save my family but ... I couldn't." Tears stung his eyes.
"You came here? On your own?"
"I found Tin Man. He brought me here."
"The demon we found at your camp?"
He nodded, his throat too thick to speak. Tin Man, his old friend, had saved him. Without the old machine he would have died a long time ago.
"The Seutonius, it wasn't a refugee ship?"
He shook his head. "I ... I don't know where it came from. The Syat found it a long time ago. Most of the passengers were in hibernation. The Syat learned where humanity was from them. You ... Your ancestors led them here. To save themselves."
"So that's why you hate us? Why the demons hate us?"
He nodded. They didn't have time for this.
"What would the Syat have done to us? If we didn't comply?"
"They would have eaten," he said simply. There was nothing else to say.
After long years of darkness light returned to the Goliath. Slowly at first, as long dormant mechanisms powered up, then quicker and quicker, flooding her thousands of kilometres of passages with light. Musty air started moving, becoming fresher as it passed through filters and scrubbers. The deck throbbed with barely perceptible power. Somewhere, deep within her, titanic rivers of pure force flowed once again. The old war machine awoke from her slumber.
Sollander could almost feel the power surging through the ship from her cell in the laboratory. She saw light flicker beyond the entrance, before it steadied into the warm glow of sunlight. Something was happening. "Get me out of here," she said.
Enderby slammed the palm of his hand on the control. The door popped open. He crossed to Adele's cell quickly and did the same.
"Stay away from me," she said, waiting for him to cross back to the entrance before she pushed the door aside.
"We have to move. Quickly," he said.
"Where to?" Sollander joined him and looked over his shoulder. She caught sight of the bodies piled outside. "Oh my"
"There is a weapons locker not far from here. Come." He headed out.
"They won't work." Sollander followed him, her eyes wide as she surveyed the scene. This place was huge. Stranger still was the sky. And it was a sky. Blue, with wispy clouds crossing it slowly. A bright, warm sun high above. She had to blink the after image from her vision when she looked at it too closely. What was this place?
"Jonas has taken care of that. Come." Enderby trotted towards an opening he could see in the distance. It was the only way. There was movement between them and it. Drones. They looked confused, as if the sudden return of power had disoriented them. It wouldn't last.
"A demon? You trust it?"
He said nothing. Of course he trusted it.
"You must stop." A drone lurched towards them. It was mostly a machine, it's human parts long since decayed.
"Out of our way." Enderby dodged around it, a claw just missing his arm.
"You cannot leave. I am not finished." It made to follow and then stopped in indecision. "Why has Jonas started the motors?"
"You only have moments," Jonas urged him on. "It is not far."
"What are you doing?" Enderby demanded of the old machine. It was suicide going up against the Syat. The combined Confederate fleet had tried that, and failed.
"Leaving," was all the AI said.
"Shit."
They stumbled into a passage. It was well lit, allowing them to see blood splashed on the walls. It was fresh, no more than a few days old. Enderby swore again. Opening this door had not been thought through.
"Left," Jonas said. "Twenty metres. It is open."
They discovered a thick armoured door. It was wide open, revealing the racks of weapons within. Thousands of them. Enderby reached for a plasma rifle and indicated the others do the same. He scooped up a couple of recharge packs and slid them into a pocket.
"Point and shoot. Don't bother aiming. You'll get the hang of it quickly. Hey!" He ducked as Adele swung on him, her fingers white on the pistol grip.
"Asshole."
"Shoot him later," Sollander said.
"He's a murderer. He deserves what he gets."
"Agreed. But we need him now. Shoot him later," she urged the other woman.
"We can't trust him. He'll betray us. If he doesn't just try to kill us himself."
"If he wanted that he would have left us where we were. We don't have time for this."
"You don't," Jonas said. "I detect a sizeable force moving in your direction. Leander plans to storm the bridge and take control."
"Shit!" Adele fired, her weapon shrieking as it ejected a torrent of coherent plasma.
Enderby whimpered, dropping to the deck. Something exploded behind him, metal clattered as it was ripped apart by the blast. He hadn't been the target.
"Asshole," Adele said. "You and I will have a reckoning once this is over."
"There's more." Sollander turned and fired in the same direction Adele had. "Shit. Let's get out of here. Get up." She kicked Enderby roughly.
"She is right, you need to move, Julian," Jonas said. "Before you go, there is something else you need."
Cursing Enderby regained his feet. Mad, they were all mad. "What?"
"Grenades may be useful." A bin popped open, revealing bandoliers of chunky metal grenades.
He scooped a couple up and yanked one free. He knew about grenades, he'd used them before. He quickly pulled the pin and tossed it down the passage. He could hear the sounds of movement down it. Something was coming their way.
"Run." He left the two behind, heading away from the noise.
With a loud bang the grenade detonated, blasting a wave of hot air after them. The sound of pursuit faded.
"Shit, you could have warned us," Sollander followed quickly. Rubbing an ear.
"I am walking you into another party I have coming towards you. Don't be alarmed and don't shoot them," Jonas said.
"I don't think I can handle more of these people."
"I need you to get them off the ship, and quickly. We're headed out of this system, and they don't need to be aboard."
He cursed. Perhaps he could bear it one more time, if it meant he got rid of them.
There were more drones. They came shambling out of side passages, moving quicker than his eye could follow. A feat for decrepit and ramshackle contraptions of bone and bits of steel. He kept them at bay with grenades, using the rifles on what survived. Jonas guided them ever deeper, away from the shuttle bays. It made no sense.
"Almost there. Now, don't shoot. Hold your fire when you get around this corner," Jonas instructed.
They almost ran into two figures coming the other way. Weapons at the ready they almost shot them down before they recognised them. Not drones, not this time. Enderby didn't know who they were.
"You bastard." Sollander stepped forward and swung her rifle hard.
"Hey!" With a grunt Davido dropped to the deck, the butt of the weapon driving all the air from his lungs. "Stop. Stop." He held up his hands in defeat.
"I should shoot you right here." She aimed at him, her finger on the trigger.
"I'm sorry, OK? I shouldn't have left you." He noticed who her companions were. "How the hell did you get down here?"
"Well hello to you too, Davido." Adele noticed his android companion. "What the fuck is that?"
"Wait. Don't shoot it. I have some explaining to do." His face twisted in a grimace he regained his feet.
"Yes," Sollander agreed. "I think you do."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Payce was miserable. They'd been sitting in this dark, cold, spooky place for hours. None of the others had returned and the radios remained determinedly dead. To make matters worse, there seemed no way off this damned ship. A few hours earlier he'd ventured into the landing bay to see if he could find trace of the shuttle and their way home. There was nothing. Nothing but darkness and long abandoned landers. He'd tried fiddling about with one, to see if it could be pressed into service. It was beyond him. The vessel remained stubbornly unresponsive.
The airlock ran out of power as he returned to his companions. Duncan had to force the door open the last few centimetres to release him from the suddenly darkened chamber. It barely mattered. There was nothing worthwhile on the other side anyway. This side wasn't much better.
With plenty of food, water and power for their lights stored in the crates up against the bulkhead, they settled down to wait. The explorers would return sooner or later.
"Should never have come," Payce groused.
"What?" Duncan said from where he was prowling near the makeshift bridge. The contraption creaked from time to time, and it was unsettling the man.
"Nothing."
A light flashed down a side passage where Sparky was rooting around, trying to find anything of interest. He didn't seem interested in spending time with the other two, even though the exertion caused him obvious pain. He'd stopped bleeding at least, the bandaged Payce wrapped around his waist doing a passable job.
"How long you reckon they're going to be?" Payce asked.
Duncan grunted. "Dunno."
Payce shook his head. He found himself staring at the congealed mass of blood on the deck. He shuddered. Terrible things had happened on this ship. They shouldn't be here.
He threw aside the wrapper from a chocolate bar and heaved himself to his feet, his joints creaking. Grumbling he stalked into a storage compartment to relieve himself. It was their designated latrine and already reeked. It looked like a munitions locker, rows of missiles and crates of cannon shells lined against the bulkheads. For the landers in the bay, he reckoned. Useless now. Grinning he aimed a stream of urine onto the glassy nose of a missile, muttering as it splashed back on his leg.
"Shit." He zipped up and stalked out. He wanted to go home. His apartment was a lot more comfortable than this. Besides, he had a job to get back to. It wasn't much. After Sistine and he drifted apart her contacts with the engineers went with her. The best he could do was a council job, dolling out benefits to the work shy. It didn't pay much but he managed to keep his self-respect.
"How long you reckon they're going to be?" Payce asked.
Duncan grunted. "Dunno."
"Shit."
The shriek of metal on metal made him jump. He dropped behind one of the crates, wishing—for the tenth time—that he had a gun.
Sparky appeared, pulling a flatbed trolley behind him. Decades since it was last greased the cart's wheels complained bitterly. One wheel wobbled like it was about to come off. The man didn't look like he cared.
An odd contraption was piled onto the trolley. It looked like a number of steel tubes bolted together, one end embedded in a complicated assemblage of motors and cables. One of the cables ran from it over the deck, disappearing into the compartment he had just emerged from.
"What you got there, big fella?" Payce came out from behind the crate and sat on it. Sparky ignored him.
"That's a big fucking gun," Duncan said, ambling over.
"What?"
"It's from them there ships." He pointed towards the defunct airlock.
Sparky gave him a complicated set of hand signs, none of which he understood. The mute grinned widely, settling himself onto a crate and setting to work with a screwdriver.
"She-it," Duncan said.
Sparky finished what he was doing and, with a grin, sat on a crate with the contraption in front of him. Firmly grasping the trolley's handlebars he depressed a trigger. The machine made a straining noise but nothing happened. His grin faded and he went to work with his screwdriver again. After a few more moments of that he sat back and tried again.
The machine roared, the barrels spinning so fast they were nothing but a blur. The trolley danced over the deck, a laughing Sparky hanging onto it. He let go of the trigger and the motors whined into silence. He gave a thumbs up.
"That it?" Payce asked, unimpressed.
Sparky stood and stalked back into a side passage. Their make-do rest room. He emerged a moment later dragging a metal case. An ammunition canister.
"What's he going to shoot with that?" Payce asked.
There was no answer for him. Sparky set about loading the minigun. Once he was satisfied he sat on his crate once again, and manhandled the contraption so that it aimed squarely at their one entrance and its makeshift bridge. Anyone trying to cross it was in for a nasty surprise.
"Who you gonna shoot with that?" Payce asked again. There's no one here to shoot. As he said it he remembered Andrea warning him about another group of people aboard the ship. At least he thought that was what she was warning him about. A woman who had since disappeared.
"Did you see something out there, Sparky? Did you see someone else?" Of course the deaf mute said nothing. He didn't seem to realise he was being questioned.
"There ain't no one out there," Duncan said.
"Are you sure about that?"
The big man chuckled. "If there is Marco will sort them out. They ain't got no chance." He giggled again.
"Yeah, sure."
The makeshift bridge creaked suddenly, as if something heavy was walking along it. Duncan hefted his pistol and aimed it into the darkness. "Who's there?"
Payce sidled over and scooped up the shotgun Sparky had left leaning against a crate. He didn't think the man would miss it. He inspected the weapon quickly. It couldn't be that hard.
Light flickered in the distance. Payce blinked as he tried to make out what it was. "What the hell is that?"
It grew in stages, as if a string of lights were clicking on, one after the other. A sound accompanied it. A humming. It grew in strength too. Sparky readied himself. The minigun whirred as he engaged the motor. Whoever it was, their reception was ready.
Absorbed by this no one noticed the holographic controls set into the airlock light up. Symbols danced quickly as the airlock cycled. Moments later the heavy door wheezed open. Two heavily armed soldiers stepped through.
"What the hell is this?" Someone said.
Payce let out an involuntary scream. Clutching the shotgun he dropped behind the crate. Holding a little too tightly his finger pulled the trigger. It went off with a loud bang, the recoil yanking it from his grasp. His scream turned to a howl, his finger snapped where it was caught by the trigger guard.
He heard a curse, assault rifles trained his way and opened fire. Heavy rounds slammed into the crate he was sheltering behind. It twitched, the metal ripped apart by the barrage.
Duncan swung on their attackers, his pistol hammering from the darkness. Its flashes lit up his grinning face. He laughed, his fire dropping one of the invaders to his knees. Another sought shelter behind the airlock door and fired wildly around it.
Sparky wrestled with his contraption, turning it around to face towards the airlock. Grimacing he depressed the trigger and fired into it. The minigun roared, a flame reaching from the spinning barrels, almost touching the airlock. The heavy barrage of cannon fire caught the soldier sheltering within. His suit, armoured as it was, didn't last more than a moment. He screamed for an instant as his legs vanished below him. Blood sprayed over the rear of the lock. Miraculously intact his helmet thumped into the rear panel, gore and shredded bloody tissue dripping down the outer door.
Smoke billowing around him Sparky let go of the trigger. He peered into the airlock, astonished by the amount of destruction he had caused.
"Shit. Shit." Payce pulled himself to his feet, the shotgun forgotten, his shattered hand clutched to his belly. "What the fuck. Who was that? Shit."
Duncan giggled. "He dead."
"Shit. I didn't sign up for this." Payce headed for the bridge. More lights had come on, revealing the rickety contraption. The Goliath was coming back to life. "I'm out of here." He didn't know where he was going but he knew he didn't want to be here anymore.
As he stepped onto the bridge the deck twitched, long dormant motors coming to life, the landing bay module attempting to re-seat itself. The cables used to tie the tables together snapped as the bridge suddenly became too long for the available space.
Payce howled, the bridge collapsing beneath him. He reached out with his injured hand, trying to steady himself. Broken bones grinding together his howl turned to a shriek of agony. He pulled his hand away, and for the second time that day, pitched into darkness.
The deck shuddered and ceased movement. Un-serviced for decades the drawing mechanism struggled, motors wining, smoke lifting from their housings.
Uttering every curse he had ever heard Payce plummeted into the gap between the Goliath and the module. He slid down the long, curved slope, his lamp bouncing away from him, shattering as it hit something unforgiving.
He grunted, sliding into one of the drawing gears at the bottom.
"Shit. Damn." Payce pulled himself up, his head banging into the ceiling. The space was smaller than it had been the last time he was here. He slipped in foul smelling grease, sliding face first into a gear. Pain exploded in his face as his nose snapped. Grease filled his mouth, burning his eyes.
Writhing he spat out the thick substance, wiping his eyes with his healthy hand.
"Fuck." He started crawling away from the gear. It was twitching, as if trying to continue its movement. The ladder would be here somewhere. He couldn't see a thing, even if his eyes hadn't been blinded by the stinking grease.
