Volleys from the Incursion Cannons chewed into the front line of Jim androids. The bullets tore through their tourist garb and their springy white bodies. Eight fell. None returned projectiles.
Orson fired his blaster twice. One shot flew wide. It struck a snowy corner of the valley floor, turning ice to water. The second burst feet away from the cylinder and sizzled against a suddenly visible wall of green light.
“Rad shield raised.” Franklin sank lower along the rock wall. “I’m getting my sustained fire ready.”
“Right.” Royce continued his attack, his cannon still perched at the rock lip.
“Orson,” Franklin unclasped a flap at the side of his cannon’s support vest. Inside was what looked like a long built-in ammo bandolier. He snaked one end into the cannon’s body. “You don’t have any physical projectiles on you, do you?”
“I have some explosives,” Orson said. “A few concussion grenades Pops left for me. I’m guessing my stink set probably won’t be very useful.”
“I’m thinking not.” Franklin laughed. He returned to the edge of rock. He fired again down at the Jims. When he resumed the attack, Royce sank low and began preparing his own ammunition. “If your arm’s good enough, hit them with what you have.”
“I’ll do what I can.” Orson moved his explosives from his belt to his coat. “I actually have five total micro concussion grenades, three shock pulses, and four flash bangs. It’s been a while since I needed to replenish these.”
“The shock pulses.” Royce finished connecting his ammunition. “What manufacturer? If they’re Atlas, they’ll fit my launcher.”
“Uh.” Orson held up one of the plain metal spheres. He saw no writing, no markings, just dull metal and a series of blue switches.
“Dammit,” Franklin said. “Orson, I wish you’d ask Pops when you get these things.”
“Yeah,” Orson shrugged. “Well, my arms are my launchers so brand doesn’t matter so much.”
A burst of energy fire exploded the rock between Orson and Franklin, showering them with dust and shattered stone. Both reeled away from the breaking wall.
Royce rose up. He began another volley, but sustained only seconds of attack. Two bursts of energy from the androids sent the rock wall bulging and breaking back at him.
All three fell away from their position. The Jim attack continued. The androids pulverized their former cover. They chipped into the layer of solid rock, sending pebbles and shards scattering in all directions.
“I’ll cross cover,” Franklin said. “Royce, hit the sleepers. That might knock out their shield and keep them occupied until the Hof’s ready.” He lifted his cannon and sent another blind volley down toward the Jims. “Orson, you can help me keep them occupied.”
“Wait.” Royce waved. “Can I take a couple of the shocks, Orson? I have the start of a plan.”
Orson handed Royce two of the silver orbs before the other man left for the opposite edge of the shelf. By then, Franklin had reached the far end of the ledge. There, a thin strip of land led down to the floor of the ravine. Orson followed after him. The sloped ground was still slick from the ice storms. Orson went slowly. He resisted the temptation to use his repulsor boot for balance.
Behind them, their rock wall cover exploded under the sustained fire. The androids continued to attack, even after the wall vanished. They chipped away at the jut of land and the ravine wall behind.
Orson saw the Jim androids again. He caught just a glimpse past the edge of the incline. At least twenty Jims crouched behind a mound of their fallen brethren. He saw their arms stretched up above the pile of the fallen. They fired their sidearm blasters toward them and the hill. Two Jims with extended necks, turned their heads back and forth, scanning the ravine and the destroyed plate.
“I’m on the far side.” Royce spoke in Orson’s ear. “The Hof is warming the main gun. Firing in seven minutes.”
“Let’s see if we can bust that shield,” Franklin said. “Orson, aim your fire or your concussions at the Periscope Jims. I’ll go on to the valley floor. We’ll divide them until Royce does his thing.”
“Sure,” Orson said. “Hey, do you think we can get me close?” Orson searched his coat pockets. He found the smooth metal of his sword’s field disruptor. “I can get the sword extended to about twenty feet.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Franklin asked. “Or did you perfect it? Uh, let’s just try our thing first.” He continued down the slope.
The Jims’ volley ceased. The Giraffe Jims scanned the walls, silent. Further back, two more Jims were stretching free of the cylinder.
Orson saw then how so few carriers had spawned the entire Jim battalion outside Teddy’s house. Dozens seemed packed inside each one.
The androids were deploying more warily now. The cylinder’s door was half-closed, leaving the androids to disgorge only one or two at a time.
Orson’s HUD detected motion above. He gave it a moment’s glance, enough to see the main gun emerge from the Hof’s belly. Did Franklin keep it loaded or trust it to load itself?
Franklin had reached cover at a sloped wall near the ravine floor. He raised his Incursion Cannon to the lip of the wall and opened fire. One of the two Giraffe Jims was decapitated in the sweeping line of Incursion fire.
The Jims reacted with one mind. The other periscope head retreated. It ducked out of sight, behind the wall of discarded androids. The remaining androids raised their arms.
Orson fired his blaster before the Jims focused their renewed attack on Franklin. The energy shield absorbed his blaster shots, but not before Orson threw one of his concussion grenades. It landed feet from the pile of android pieces.
The bomb exploded. Dismembered android parts flew skyward. Orson’s HUD couldn’t track them all. Had he busted their defensive wall? Had he reached the attacking Jims beyond? He couldn’t be sure.
The Jims concentrated on Orson. They began their slow disintegration of rock. Orson fell back against the ravine wall, as pebbles started shaking free on him. He crouched below the line of rock and returned up the slope. Behind him, Franklin attacked again.
Then Royce fired his grenade launcher. Orson heard its thunk. His HUD followed the dull metal of the shock blast as it flew high over the Jims, straight on toward the cylinder.
It burst in a ball of light, smashed useless against the energy shield.
At the same time, Franklin’s Incursion fire began to scatter wide. The bullets ricocheted away from the Jim heap. Some rained down to the ravine floor. Others bounced back along the cliff walls.
“Particle shield now?” Franklin said. “Tell me we only took out those other ones because we surprised them.” Franklin moved further toward the valley, groaning and cursing in unintelligible disgust.
Orson caught another glimpse of the gathered androids. He’d made a gap in their defensive wall with the concussion grenade. Through it, he saw two Jims grabbing burned pieces of their brethren, grabbing arms and legs with feet still in shoes, heads, and many pieces Orson couldn’t recognize.
The Jims built their wall again, packed it tight, braced it firm, all made of bodies identical to their own.
“I’ll rush them,” Orson said. “You both cover me and I’ll get in close. At least these aren’t the invisible ones.”
“That’s crazy,” Royce said.
“No.” Orson adjusted his sword’s strap. “My armor’s really good.” He rose back to his feet.
“How about a sane alternative?” Royce said. “I don’t think they triangulated my position. Franklin, why don’t we go for a delayed reaction? That carrier’s extending its shield unusually far. Orson’s other shock might disable the Jims if it detonates by surprise and doesn’t trigger their shield’s velocity guard.”
“Those charges don’t have any kind of timed detonation,” Orson said.
“We’ll do the Burning Blast,” Royce said. “But I only have enough fuel for one long distance shot on my flamethrower.”
“Burning blast?” Orson said. “Like Sirona’s Burning Blast?”
“Yeah,” Royce said. “She knew that technique five years ago?”
“Yes.” Orson remembered another encounter with IHSA androids, running on foot, sword in hand, red fire burning alongside the sword’s blue. “I named it. We were training…”
“I’m on board, Royce,” Franklin interrupted. “You sure you’ve got the reach?”
“I’m sure,” Royce said. “Distract them now.” Franklin fired in response. More bullets ricocheted from the shield. Orson added blaster strikes to the energy wall. The Jims divided their attention. Another Giraffe Jim joined the first in peering over the wreckage.
Blaster fire struck at Orson and at Franklin. Both men were peppered in pebbles and dust.
The second shock charge blasted from far to the left. It flew high over the Jims. Before it fell, a gout of fire struck it in midair. The explosive burst in the heat, sending arcs of visible electricity and light dancing down on the gathered Jims and their cylinder.
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The energy shield faded away. The Jims’ blaster fire ceased. The two Giraffe Jims shook, eyes wide, mouths lolled open. They shrank away, spastically jiggling like deflating balloons. Both fell out of sight. Franklin’s attack began again unimpeded. He shredded the android wall. Nothing moved but the squirming licorice.
No androids rose to rebuild their position. No more Jims emerged from the cylinder.
But more unmoving, spooned bodies could be seen inside. The carrier still floated above the ravine floor, but its camouflage was gone, its gray hull visible.
“Alright.” Franklin stood from his cover. “Good one, Royce. It looks like that damaged their carrier, after all. Let’s keep our eyes on this thing until the Hof’s ready to take it out. Maybe we can grab a couple of these Jims to take...”
A sustained beam of red light left the cylinder, aimed right for Franklin. It took him in the shoulder. One of the Incursion Cannon’s straps cut. Steam hissed from his vest. He yelled and fell back behind the rock wall.
“Franklin!” Orson and Royce yelled together, both opening fire on the cylinder. It ignored their attack and flew across the ravine floor, aimed at the wall where Franklin was hiding.
Orson did not know the strength of the cylinder or the strength of the wall or how prepared Franklin was to run. So he flew. Orson activated his repulsor and blasted away from the rock wall and up above the cylinder.
He fired his blaster down at the cylinder, shots wide or crackling uselessly against the cylinder’s still-active rad shield. The cylinder ignored him.
“I killed your Jims!” Orson screamed. “I did it. My bomb. My kill.” He fired more on the cylinder. Multiple blasts hit in the same place. The cylinder halted.
“Orson!” Royce yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Come at me,” Orson said. “I want to fight you. I’m gonna destroy all your Jims!”
The cylinder angled up at him, pointed one of its narrow ends at him. Its own repulsor shifted and shot up at Orson. It fired its red beam as it flew.
Orson’s HUD came alive with warnings and data.
CHEST SHOT – 100%
LOCATION OF WEAPONRY ON CRAFT - UNKNOWN
BREASTPLATE ABSORPTION - LIKELY
Orson let the armor take the strike. He ignored the coat smoldering around the concentrated beam, until the cylinder shut off its projectile, still bearing up at him. Orson drew his sword and his field disruptor and brought the two together.
“It’ll crush you!” Royce yelled in his ear. “Get down!”
The sword’s heat shield expanded, warped outward. The blade grew, doubled and tripled. As the cylinder rocketed straight at him, Orson fired his own repulsor to meet it head on. He angled the extended sword, fire at its full length, as his HUD lit with warnings.
COLLISION IMMINENT!
Orson wrenched upward, above the speeding cylinder, sword still pointing down.
Blue fire met the speeding craft, slicing clean through from hull to hull. The halved cylinder fell to the ravine floor. It crashed with a blast of dirt and a shockwave that knocked more rocks loose from the cliff wall. The Jims jumped up in their ports, lifeless arms raised like cartoon skeletons on a roller coaster, and then went still.
Orson landed beside the wreckage. He listened for another attack and let his HUD take its own observations. Still no movement. He removed the field disruptor from the sword. The fire returned to its normal length.
“Franklin!” Orson said. “Are you okay?” His friend stood and stretched on the opposite side of the ravine. The left shoulder of his vest looked melted, material smeared together like candle wax. Franklin favored that side. He didn’t raise the arm. He guided his cannon only with his right, but he was standing.
“Yep,” Franklin groaned. “Yep. I’ll feel that tomorrow, but I’ve had worse.” He walked in slow, stiff steps to the bottom of the slope and around into the open. He winced. “Thanks, Orson. That thing might’ve pancaked me.”
“I didn’t see any sign of a weapon on that craft,” Royce said. Orson heard his approaching steps through the gravel-littered road. “No warning at all.”
“Nope.” Franklin approached the bisected cylinder and aimed a kick at the inert metal. “Boy, Orson, you even cut through some of the androids on the inside. What got into you? Something put you in a mood to show off?”
“That was incredible,” Royce said. “I thought you were dead. It was like you had a death wish, but I was really wrong. You have my apology, Orson. I know now what I didn’t before. I understand.”
“What’s that?” Orson slipped the field disruptor into its pouch and sheathed the sword.
“I think you’re certifiable,” Royce said. “Maybe you can really do the impossible if you’re insane.” He shook his head, but offered a weak laugh.
“I prefer unpredictable,” Orson said. “If they don’t know what the rules are, only you can win.”
“See, that’s crazy.” Royce shook his head again.
“Don’t worry about him, Orson.” Franklin stooped down at the cut edge of the fallen cylinder. “Either of you ever see a carrier like this before? Because I sure haven’t.” He ran his right hand along the side of the hull. “Totally smooth. I still don’t know where that thing hid its laser.”
“I think this probably works like those egg probes Eloise and Sirona fought,” Orson said.
“Hmm.” Franklin kicked the metal again. “Right. What do you say, Royce? Should we take one of these carriers back with us? We might be able to smoosh one of the halves in our main hold.”
* * *
Kol’s headache continued in the warmth of the roof spire atrium. The sudden adjustment from cold to the tower’s interior actually intensified the sensation, like the pain had been focused behind his eyes, but the heat allowed it to expand. The entire top of his head ached, and motion made the tingling dance all along his spine.
Max watched him openly. Kol closed his eyes and stopped massaging his temples. He didn’t need to burden Max with worry. He didn’t need to give the lab tech team more data.
Because they watched too, if only half-heartedly, while they fiddled with their datapads or spoke to Sir Geber’s guards. If only they would step away, just far enough for a few scattered words with Max.
But they did not, and soon Sir Geber returned with the other Shapers. The trio who followed the knight wore modified officer armor of a kind Kol had not seen before. They wore reinforced forearm guards and gauntlets that left them almost twice as wide at the wrist as at the shoulder. And small metal rods stood out along these gauntlets, their vambraces, their pauldrons, and all the way up to the backs of their helmets, like pins in an anatomy-class skeleton.
“Now that you’ve had a chance to regain your resolve,” Sir Geber said. “Meet the men who could have been your colleagues and your brothers.”
Kol forced his feet beneath him. He inclined his head toward the Shapers. He’d planned to speak, to offer some greeting as he stood. He expected Geber to demand as much from him, but the tingling and shocks of pain followed his spine all the way to his tailbone, and he kept his mouth clamped shut.
“School of the Third Mystery,” Geber said. “Here is the traitor, Kolben Maros.” One of the three raised his right gauntlet. A steaming orb of green light left the gauntlet and flew straight at Kol’s chest.
Kol reacted. As soon as he saw the gauntlet rise, he’d felt another sensation, the hair-on-neck eerieness of sensing another Shaper in action.
The green orb exploded where it met Kol’s suddenly renewed shield, filling the air with smoke. Max and the lab techs all yelled. The explosion alone was enough to hurt Kol’s ears. He staggered back against the spire’s far wall, shoulders sagged against the metal. His shield faded with his vision and the pain in his face crescendoed to a numbing intensity, beyond his ability to fully process, pain of a kind he’d felt only twice before.
“What discipline they have, Geber,” Max said. “I am always astounded by what you teach your chimps.”
The air filled with a smoke like burned plastic and ozone. The ceiling fire alarm began to chirp. One of the lab techs ran to a wall console, where he shut off the alarm and turned on a fan or air filtration. It started to whir, far above them.
“Enough,” Sir Geber chuckled. “Enough, Zudof. Your enthusiasm is very powerful, but we don’t want to trip the sprinklers. Besides, I think we’ve finally found Mr. Maros’s true limits. You may lower your shield, Mr. Maros.”
Kol watched the other Shaper, Zudof. The palm of his gauntlet still glowed a pale green. When that light finally faded, Kol allowed his shield to vanish with it.
Sir Geber approached him. He walked without caution or hesitation. Kol stood straight again and watched the helmeted knight.
Geber came so close the antennae almost pressed to Kol’s forehead. The Knight didn’t touch him, only regarded him. Kol felt no sensation from Geber’s iron Shaping.
“Good.” The Knight stepped away. “Rest well tonight, Mr. Maros. Tomorrow, we begin.”
* * *
Orson was still rummaging through the cylinder’s destroyed wreckage when his HUD caught the shapes of approaching vehicles. Cathy’s skimmer raced above the road toward them, the Aesir just behind it.
“I hope no one fines us for dropping this into the road,” Royce said.
“It’s not like that thing didn’t need destroying anyway,” Franklin said. “This feels as close to an ‘all’s well that ends well’ moment as we’re gonna get.” He pulled a bisected Jim from the scattered pieces in the roadway, dragged it free with his right hand. “I do feel like I forgot something.” He angled the android toward Orson. “What do you think, could I make this thing into a HUD like you wear?”
“Hello!” The Jim’s bald head swiveled toward Franklin, it’s eyes only half open. “Could you help me find a phone booth? My brother crashed our tour bus.”
“Ew!” Franklin dropped the Jim back on the ground. “Orson, that move of yours didn’t finish the job.”
“It did some damage,” Royce said. “I think all of the IHSA era Jim androids still included most of their corporate defaults. This Jim sounded like he was back in the mid 1980s, trying to come up with a coverup.”
“Maybe we can see what the Council votes to do with them,” Orson said.
The skimmer and Aesir arrived then, and both crews ran out into the road. David and Violet flanked Cathy. Enoa held her full staff, Jaleel his new bow.
“We heard some of your battle,” Cathy said. “I see we’re too late to help. But than you.” She bowed her head.
“My pleasure,” Franklin said. “I mostly just got shot at.”
“Boss, did you cut this whole thing in half?” Jaleel said. “Ugh, I can’t believe I missed everything again!”
“Yeah, that was me,” Orson said. “Watch out. Those Jims are drunk but some are still alive. You might get more than you bargained for.”
“We plan to collect them.” Violet prodded an unmoving Jim with a long stylus. “Both here and at Theodore’s.”
“Franklin, do you need to bring any of them back to the Alliance?” Cathy asked.
“We probably should take half of that carrier,” Franklin said. “We’ll be in trouble if we don’t. Not that I like the idea of them all plugged together in our hold. Our luck, they’ll decide to start singing together halfway back. I’m assuming there was nothing else lurking about in town?”
“You assume right,” Cathy said. She and her crew both stepped between the halved cylinder pieces. As they walked, one of the Jims raised its right hand in a wave.
“Well, Royce,” Franklin said. “I guess we get our Jim carrier wrapped up. We still have our chauffer gig to do. Even if we fly, it’ll be all day ‘till we’re done.”
“Does that mean we’re leaving too?” Enoa asked Orson.
“Probably,” Orson said. “I don’t know where we can stay with the Baron’s bullseye on us. We still have to figure out where we’re hiding.”
“We’ll find somewhere for you to lay low,” Cathy said. “You would be more than safe with Theodore and April if it weren’t for the Tech Liberation Front’s betrayal.”
“Thanks, Cathy,” Orson said. “But we can’t accept. Once we’re gone, I think Helmont will leave you alone. He’s after my crew and what we’re searching for. He’s not ready to go conquering.”
“I wish I could’ve actually seen the Shoshone community.” Enoa sighed.
“You’ll have to come back,” Cathy said. “You will always be welcome, Enoa, and if the gathering we plan is successful, there will be more.”
“Thank you,” Enoa said. “It was wonderful to meet you all.”
“But you we can’t all go our separate ways now!” Teddy stood in the Aesir’s doorway, still wearing full chainmail. “If we won and you’re cleaning up my place anyway, I need to cook a big farewell meal. It’s not a good conclusion to this adventure otherwise. That’s ritual stuff, man.”
“If he’s cooking for them, we have to stay!” Jaleel said. “Teddy’s right. It’s like the end of a Manga or comic book story arc. We have to stay for the victory meal!”
“With Helmont after us,” Orson said. “I’m not sure we earned a victory meal, but I’m always on board for Ted’s cooking. It’s not up to me, though. We’re operating on other crews’ schedules right now. Once they’re all as safe as can be, we’re just back to finding someplace to hide.”
“I could use a break.” Franklin nodded. “As long as we don’t think that Helmont will turn right around and send another hundred of those damn things.” He pressed his right hand to the opposite shoulder. “Actually… I just remembered. Orson, you wanted help with that mission you’ve been planning. Why don’t we stick around, have Teddy’s comic book feast, and we can get that figured out for you.”
“Is this about the Tech Liberation Front information?” Cathy asked.
“Yes,” Orson said. “We’re going to put that to good use.”