Brynn fastened the holster round her waist, double checking the pistol for ammunition. Behind her, the doctor was giving the medbay a long winded explanation of their situation but Brynn tuned him out, reserving every ounce of her focus on preparation. The vampires had caught her by surprise before. Never again. SD-22, fully charged and freshly washed of blood, stood to her side, his sensor-packages softly whirring as he loomed over her like a steel-plated statue. Is he a he? Brynn wondered, looking the robot up and down. SD-22 didn’t exactly have genitals, and the doctor did refer to the robot as a them. Well, Onyeka’s a dick she reasoned, shrugging as the doctor wrapped up his speech. A dull wave of pain shot from her injury and she winced, clutching her bandaged shoulder reflexively. Onyeka turned to face them and she quickly dropped her hand from it.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his angular face as hard as stone as he approached with his hands placed casually in the pockets of his bloodstained lab coat.
“Affirmative,” SD-22 answered. “I will not fail.” An exclamation mark appeared on his face and he looked down at her sheepishly. “We will not fail.”
“Damn straight,” she replied, and SD-22’s hands slid into his forearms, the brutal blocks of steel popping out to protect them as the exclamation mark morphed into a thumbs up.
While they had recovered in the medbay, dozens of feral vampires had gathered around the main doors, most likely alerted to the last safe haven of the living by Ballari and Alicja. She could hear them scratching against the hardened steel as they howled with impotent rage, unable to reach the veritable feast of blood on the other side of the impenetrable blast doors. If the doors opened for even a moment, they would pour in and slaughter the patients like wolves in a henhouse.
Brynn glanced over her shoulder at the black robed and heavy-set priest behind her who smirked impishly, his hand hovering over the fire alarm. Historically she hadn’t gotten along with men of god, but Father Harris, as he had introduced himself, had turned out to be pretty cool about the whole “suffering the witch to live” thing. Besides, she couldn’t help but respect the man’s ingenuity when it came to the application of holy water. Coursing through the sprinkler pipes above them was hundreds of pounds of freshly blessed water waiting to be sprayed onto the unsuspecting horde.
“Alright then,” said Onyeka as he placed a hand over the control panel embedded in the wall by the door, the grimy touchscreen’s soft blue glow drowned in the medbay’s harsh fluorescent light. He looked back at SD-22, hesitating for a moment with his mouth half open, before slamming his hand down on the panel with a grimace. “Now.”
“In the name of Christ above,” Father Harris prayed in his lilting accent as the doors began to grind open and a writhing mass of bloodstained flesh became visible through the steadily widening crack. “Boil the bastards.” He pulled the fire alarm and the station filled with unholy screams. Worse than the screams was the sizzling, the crackling and popping of burning flesh reminding her of the sound her deep fryer made when she dropped a basket of fries into it. She crinkled her nose, the stench of burnt pork assaulting her nostrils. A vampire wearing a maintenance uniform squeezed through the crack in the doors, a snarl on its-half melted lips, only to be pulped by a casual swipe of SD-22’s fist. The doors widened enough for him to fit through, and SD-22 charged, shaking the station floor with his footsteps as the robot plowed into the mass of vampires like a freight train, bulldozing through them in a spray of gore. These feral vampires were freshly turned and blood starved, compared to a true bloodsucker, they were barely more than fodder. Each swing of his massive arms sent chunks of limbs cartwheeling through the air and each step crushed them under his massive feet. Still, through sheer numbers they began to overtake him, smothering the robot under a wave of hissing undead clawing and biting at every opening, even tearing at each other to reach him. He was about to be overwhelmed, dragged down to be ripped apart piece by piece by a sea of monsters. Brynn bit her lip. She could let loose with another fireball, but using her own inner energy to simply create fire out of nothing was tiring and inefficient. Spellcrafting worked best when you were manipulating something that was already there, the more abstract the better. Magic defied rationality like oil detested water. It was a thing of feeling rather than fact, stories made so real the world would be forced to change to accommodate them. Opening her third eye as she began to chant in the witch-tongue, Brynn gathered the stagnant fear and desperation that had settled in the medbay, hanging over the survivors like a dark cloud. It bucked and writhed in her grip, but she gathered the cloud of despair between her hands into a ball of hissing smoke and thrust it forward. Dark tendrils of pure fear sprang from her hands and pierced into the minds of the vampires, primal terror overcoming their berserker rage. Vampires scrambled away from the door, clawing at each other in their desperation to escape. SD-22 seized the opportunity, emerging from the quickly evaporating pile of vampires and eviscerating the ones too slow or injured to get away in time with precise, piston-like blows as the medbay door behind them slammed shut. The entire battle had taken place in less than a minute of shocking violence.
“Holy shit Esdee,” Brynn breathed, a grin creeping across her face. In all her years of underworld warfare she had never seen slaughter on such a scale. It was almost beautiful.
“That was...unpleasant,” said the security droid as he turned to face her, rivers of blood streaming down his chassis with every movement. A spiderweb of cracks stretched across the screen from a blow that had struck the upper right hand corner. Lengths of severed synthmuscle hung off his arms like frayed ends of a worn rope. His arms pulsed, layers of grey cords rippling as he ejected the damaged fibers which hit the bloodstained station floor in a sharp clatter that reminded Brynn of hail hitting her metal roof at home. The damaged synthmuscle cables wriggled like dying worms, convulsing wildly and kicking up splashes of blood as they burned through their last seconds of power. He knelt to the ground, beside a scalded corpse wearing a ruined station uniform that he had decapitated moments ago.
“Esdee, you alright?” Brynn asked tentatively as she walked towards him, carefully stepping over the piles of gore littering the hallway. “Did...Did you know him?” she asked, and there was no response. “If you did,” she ventured, placing a hand on his massive shoulder as she struggled for words. The synthmuscle, though slick with blood, was warm to the touch and surprisingly springy. SD-22 turned his head back to her, his blank television-like face returning her stare with her reflection broken apart by the cracks spreading across it. She gulped. “That wasn’t the person you knew,” she said and SD-22 stood with a jolt. Startled, Brynn stumbled backwards.
“We need to go,” he responded flatly, walking down the corridor and away from the scene of carnage. “The Atmosphere center is far, and we don’t have much time.”
Great job, Brynn thought, rolling her eyes as she hurried to catch up with the robot’s long strides. Was there even any point to trying to comfort him or was she just projecting? She mulled it over, filing the thought away for later as they ran through the station, ducking into service closets or spare rooms to avoid roaming packs of vampires. Some were rabid monsters like the ones they slaughtered outside of the medbay, howling as they skittered down the station corridors in feral gangs. They were the easiest to hide from, their beastial sense of smell blocked by the hawthorne and garlic charm under her jumpsuit from a thread tied with selkie mane. Vampires had noses like bloodhounds, but they were easy to trick with a little bit of magical elbow grease. The true vampires, ones like the monstrous Ballari and Alicja they had only just escaped from were a different story altogether. They encountered their first pack about twenty minutes after they left the medbay as they left the science and medical wing and headed into a dim cafeteria filled with abandoned fast food outposts. They had nearly crossed it when SD-22 threw a hand out in front of her, the rubber soles on his feet squealing as he slid to a stop. Brynn winced at the noise. “What is it?” she whispered. The room was lit only by dim packs of emergency LEDs dotting the walls and the frankly offensive Taco Town™ logo, a sombrero-wearing Mario lookalike that blinked in and out as the batteries lighting it faded.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“There are four figures down the hall,” he replied, backing slowly towards the garishly decorated Taco Town stall beside them. “But-” Before he could finish, Brynn vaulted over the Taco Town’s™ register. “Come on!” She hissed, ducking under the counter. The robot followed, flattening his immense bulk against the ground beside her to hide. She scanned the cramped taco kitchen, gagging as her eyes crossed a corpse slumped over a bloodstained sink, his neck flayed open and wrists shackled to the faucet. Scattered around him were large soda cups, that she could see were half full of blood in their reflection on the mirror-like metal ceiling of the kitchen. He looked barely older than her brother who had just started his first semester at college back down on earth, and they had used him like a keg. She winced at sharp pain blossoming through her hand and looked down, surprised to see it curled into white knuckled fist, She opened her hand slowly, the red marks from her nails digging into her palm fading as the laughter grew closer. She could make out a few distinct voices now, though they were too far away for her to actually understand what they were saying. Still, they didn’t sound like they were on the hunt which meant the two of them hadn’t been noticed. They had an opening. She bumped SD-22 with the side of her foot, and he turned to face her, a question mark displayed on his screen. She gestured towards the increasingly loud laughter and made a stabbing motion with her other hand. SD-22 shook his head, the words “BAD IDEA” written on it with stark black lettering. She pointed to the corpse over the sink accusatorily.
“I AM SORRY BUT IT IS NOT THE MISSION,” SD-22 responded, the text scrolling across the white background of his cracked screen like the end credits of a movie.
Maybe not YOUR mission, Brynn thought to herself, but the robot was right. She was being rash, a ‘trait unbecoming of a ranking witch,’ according to Elder Myka. By the gods, horned and moon, she thought with a wry smile. 22,000 miles above earth and I STILL can’t escape her nagging.
SD-22’s screen whirred as more words scrolled across it, and she snapped her attention back to the robot. “IT IS ALSO UNWISE TO TAKE SUCH AN ACTION WHEN THERE ARE UNKNOWN VARIABLES. I BELIEVE MY SENSORS HAVE MALFUNCTIONED. AUDITORY SCANNERS SHOWED 4 FIGURES APPROACHING, BUT THE BIOSCANS ONLY REVEALED 3.” She blinked, a horrifying realization striking her, and cocked her head, straining her ears to pick apart the faint conversation of the approaching vampires. She could only hear bits and pieces of their bickering, but one was clearly female, though she seldom spoke and even then only in short, terse snippets. The one who dominated the conversation had an overwhelmingly german accent, so thick it sounded like it was straight out of a bad World War two film. The final voice was thin and nasally, prone to fits of excitement as the three discussed the station’s casino. Yet behind their conversation, she could just barely make out a rhythmic clanking. Shit I was right, she realized. Metal Footsteps. She whipped around to face SD-22. “They’ve got a robot with them!”
“IMPOSSIBLE,” SD-22 replied. “AND COULD YOU PLEASE BE QUIET?”
Brynn rolled her eyes, returning her attention back to the approaching voices.
“-allari’s been burned to a crisp now haven’t you heard?” said the nasally speaker, as the whine of squeaky hinges filled the cafeteria. “With a witch skulking about it never hurts to be safe.” Brynn could see a Model-4 security droid, cradling a sleek white assault rifle in it’s dextrous synthmuscle arms standing behind the ajar cafeteria door in the mirrored ceiling. She turned to SD-22 but saw only her reflection, he had turned his screen off to avoid giving away their position with any stray light. Whatever the robot was thinking, she had no way to know. Beside the Model-4 was a noticeable emptiness where its three companions should have stood. True Vampires. She held in a curse. Ferals and even young Trues were still visible in mirrors, but once a vampire had matured enough to lose their reflection they became exponentially more dangerous. On a good day she’d have difficulty with a single vampire of that power, but SD-22 and her were outnumbered and she was still woozy from blood loss.
“So true,” replied the German with a layer of sarcasm thick enough to smother a small child. “Except, I also recall hearing that the bitch who burned our esteemed sister was aided by a machine just like that one!”
Shit! Cursed Brynn as she sank a little lower behind the counter. The bloodsuckers knew she was onboard with them. Not only that, this wasn’t a simple infestation. They were coordinating and working together, solid proof a vampire cabal was involved. According to the original terms of her mission, all she had to do was bring that intel back to her coven and her part of this was done. She restrained a disdainful snort. As if she’d hand this off for someone else to fuck up.
The German continued its rant. “Besides, it's barely more than just a tin toy! How is it supposed to protect us?” The Model-4’s reflection jerked into the air, which Brynn assumed was the german vampire making a point. “In fact why-”
“-Sirs” interrupted the Model 4, and the invisible force holding it aloft slammed it into the ground with a thunderous CLANG. “How dare you!” the German hissed, and the nasally vampire let out a frustrated sigh.
“Witches can hide their smell, you fat idiot. We brought it along to be our coal-mine canary in case she tries to ambush us. Speaking of which,” The vampire paused, as something lifted the Model-4 back onto its feet. “SD-28, what were you about to say?” SD-22’s screen twitched nigh-imperceptibly.
“Sirs,” repeated the robot, its modulated voice controlled and expressionless. “I am reading a life signature nearby.”
Oh. SHIT. Brynn slid even further down, tucking into a corner as the moisture fled from her mouth and her heart beat fast enough to tear its way out of her chest. She glanced around the kitchen frantically, looking for a way out.
“Where?” questioned the German impatiently.
“There is heavy interference,” SD-28 admitted. “I am unsure. It may be a false positive, or-”
“You damaged it,” remarked the female voice flatly.
“Oh shut it,” spat the German. “I barely hit the thing, it was probably faulty to begin with.” Brynn bit back a curse. There were no back doors or vents to escape through, and she doubted hiding in the fridge would do anything more than make it so she died chilly, Even then, SD-22 wouldn’t be able to fit in there with her. They were trapped.
“There’s another possibility, my simpleminded friend,” countered the nasally vampire. “Her magic is causing the interference. We should search the cafeteria, to be safe.” Brynn opened her third eye, drawing in the scant few dregs of magic around her as she carefully slid the pistol from the holster. It was an antique taken from Onyeka’s stash, dating all the way back to the twentieth century. She rubbed her thumb along the carbon fibre grip, praying it still worked. “We’re already late for the party,” he continued. “What’s a few more minutes? Worst case scenario we find a pre-banquet snack. Best case, we’re the ones who present the heads of the witch and the rogue security droid to Farhad...”
“Yes, yes, I get it,” growled the German. “Scan the room machine, but make it quick.”
“Yes sir,” SD-28 replied with a nod. It turned and walked over to the other side of the room, checking each FOOD STALL THING as it methodically worked its way across the cafeteria.
With painstaking care as to not make a sound, SD-22 had rolled over into a crouch, his fists hidden behind the blocky steel bludgeons that slid from his forearms. Brynn shook her head. SD-22 was formidable, but if they fought these three they’d attract dozens of vampires to their location, even if they won. The wide open space of the cafeteria would make it easy for even SD-22 to be overwhelmed and a corporate dining hall had little in the way of magic or wonder for her to use. If a fight started they’d be as dead as the cook slumped over the sink. Wait, Brynn realized, a grin spreading across her face. That’s it!
The Model-4 was scanning for signs of life, to hide from it all she needed to do was trick it into thinking she was dead. She whispered an incantation in enochian, drawing a masque of death around herself. The color fled from her skin as she slumped to the ground, utterly still. SD-22 twitched again, his blocky head whipping around to examine her. If she could still move, Brynn would have winced. She probably should have let SD-22 know something was going to happen before she keeled over dead. Somewhere far from her, the vampires were arguing over the Model-4, though her senses were dulled under the blanket of false death she had wrapped herself in so much so she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Sounds and images blurred as if she was awakening from a deep sleep, still crossing the border from unconsciousness to solid reality. Maybe I took too much, whispered a faint thought that swam to her forefront of her consciousness before being quickly swallowed by a wave of fatigue. SD-22's blank face grew darker and darker, the black screen swallowing her vision as she drifted into oblivion.