A double-barreled shot gun blasted the ceiling turret. Then Gonzales went prone on his back behind the overturned tool bench. His second in command had dropped their weapon on the open floor outside of cover, and in attempting to retrieve it had discovered an exploit. To conserve ammo, the machine did not strafe as it circled to the next target. It always targeted the nearest person it could detect. And while it moved quickly, it could only shoot from one direction at a time.
When Gonzales went prone the machine went back to target seeking mode. It sprayed the work bench surface with bullets, but the cover held. That’s when the second in command popped up from cover. Timing was crucial, he was behind thin metal shelving that wouldn’t withstand gunfire. So, before the turret began to rotate, the man slid back down behind his cover. By the time the gun could be aimed the target remained lost. The machine didn’t have the sense to shoot through cover.
With the gun aimed at the other side of the hanger, Gonzales pushed his back up at an took a shot at the turret. Lead peppered the work bench as he returned prone on his back. His head struck the leg of the overturned bench. He winced and more tightly clutched the shot gun.
“Horst, any progress?”
There was a bullet hole through one of the circuit boards. It wasn’t damage to a critical spot but he needed to reconnect the circuitry pathing.
“Where’s my spot welder!? We keep a bunch of them in the tool chests. There’s probably some on the floor!”
Horst wasn’t about to go out after one with the auto-turret circling, even he had no idea how much ammo was stored in these things. It shouldn’t be unlimited, but from some improvised construction plans he knew that belts in the structure fed these guns ammo when they ran out. Waiting out the ammo supply wasn’t a great idea; they might all be dead by the time the guns had no bullets.
A spot welder flew over the gap. Horst put his head down as the turret motion sensors activated but the turret conserved its ammunition. The target wasn’t big enough and the activating heat sensors didn’t pick up a reading. The turret AI was advanced enough that simple exploits wouldn’t work, but it had no idea that shooting the spot welder away from Horst would be beneficial.
The tool slid next to Horst’s hip and he grabbed it. He had scrap metal for circuit board repair, as it was a hobby of his. Oh right, it was on the closet case. He’d have to stand up to get it and he wasn’t in the mood to break cover. A hand swept the dust of the console internals yet found nothing. Horst looked up to confirm where the bag sat. Then her yelled across the hanger.
“I need a diversion. I have to grab some repair supplies!”
“How long do you need to break cover and where do you need to go?”
“I need to bounce up above me- you know what, never mind. Even if I fix it, I’m not going to be able to work unless that thing stops. You’re going to have to take it out the old-fashioned way.”
Gonzales spit before yelling while laying on his back. The floor hurt his spine and covered his uniform in dusty grease.
“Well, you still have to fix it, so if you want to grab supplies while we keep it entertained you can. Just be aware that the machine gun on the floor hasn’t run dry yet. And don’t expect miracles, it’s hard to get a shot in edgewise on these things.”
A deep breath entered the lungs through the mouth and exited through the nose as he pressed his clinker special to his chest. A shot gun would be easier because the machines weren’t giving him time to aim. He bolted upwards and sprayed a few bullets before dropping right back down. He used a mirror to check the turret behavior.
The turrets were conserving ammo now. That was a good sign, he guessed. The floor machine gun was an improvised turret. It had a good deal of ammo in the box, but it wasn’t connected to the main supply. The AI had interfaced with the big gun’s internal computer so that it no longer reacted automatically. Instead of firing with the ceiling gun, the machine gun on the floor now covered the blind spot.
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“Don’t break cover, it learned!”
The radio continued to squelch with calls for relief. No outside help would arrive and they were pinned down. These guns would either shoot them or starve them. Gonzales put his head down on the table leg and took another deep breath.
“Get comfy! We’re going to be here for a while!”
-----
The heat of the room became nearly insufferable. Lauren sweat into her overalls, slowly soaking them. The coolant flowing through the pipes started to bake her hiding spot. She had nothing but her wrench, not even a bottle of water that she could retrieve safely. Hair mopped the dirt and half evaporated coolant spills as she pushed herself on her back. Perhaps she’d be able to find a blind spot or some cover where she could shimmy out from under the pipes without being shot.
There was no safe exit along the entire corridor. A move of the hand, a tap of the wrist, and the gun whirred to aim at the location of the disturbance. The only thing she learned was that it was on ammo conservation mode. Minutes passed that seemed like hours, as she found herself baking in a low heat oven. Even the air laid heavily, full of carbon dioxide from the poor ventilation.
The hatch slid open and the turret trained on the exit. Air from outside the hall refreshed the underside of the pipes. The arm of the nearest body twitched as if something like a dart hit it. Lauren watched as a black vein formed and grew up the dead woman’s arm to her shoulder. Then the inky vein wrapped around her neck before pushing over her face and down her shirt as it branched. The corpse popped as an inky black substance gushed from the waste line. Then the zombie stood on steady legs as a thin black liquid ran down the pants. Bullets fired, mashing the head open as if it was a melon full of tar. Liquid sprayed the pipes and began to drip down into Lauren’s hiding spot. The ceiling auto turret fired at the standing body that melted with each strike into a hot lump of tar and aggregate. A malformed arm stretched to the ceiling. It punched the turret. A splat followed a series of frantic beeps as the gun malfunctioned with a spit of bubbling smoke and dull smacks.
The corpse melted into a failed silhouette with a barely human shape and a gaping toothless maw. It slowed, deactivated, then hardened into a lump of simmering coal as the putrid odor of burning flesh and hot paving tar pushed under the pipes. Lauren controlled her breathes in an effort not to gag.
Footsteps. She watched in stillness, barely breathing as loafers tapped on the dirty floor. A plain dress swayed about black stockings on thin legs. From the other side a woman with short curly hair in more colorful dress entered and stared. Lauren was in no mood to come out and say high.
“I thought you were above murder. Tell the truth, are you killing them?” Io said.
“Relax, it was already dead,” Helen said as she pushed up her fake glasses, “The real question is who let you out of your cage.”
“I go where I please.”
“Oh really, do you want to go then? Do you want to go through me? I’d like to see you try.”
Io adjusted her stance and made a fist. They walked towards one another, slowly, as Lauren watched silently from under the pipes.
-----
“Not one for small talk?”
The muscular man put his arms around his chest as he stood by the radio and stared at a wall. Larox sighed as waited for Lavinia to show some signs of energy. When the turrets activated, they were lucky enough to be in a room without a mounted gun. Screams echoed through the corridor along with the sound of machine gun fire, beeps, and clicks.
Larox jumped to his feet and ran towards the door. He felt a firm hand push down on his shoulder and pull him back from the door as gunshots rang against the metal before perforating it. The muscular man shook his head. But Larox knew his intentions were good, he had been saved from a possibly bad injury. The radio squawked with desperate pleas for help. Rebel forces across Mandaree base were finding themselves pinned down by the automated systems.
“Do you even realize how many guns are in the hangar? Your leader is there. Horst is there. Can we really just stay here?”
The musclebound man shrugged.
“Aren’t you going to say anything!?”
The man pointed to his mouth with a blank expression. Then made a slicing motion with his pointer finger. Larox blinked. It should have been obvious. He looked like he came straight from scrubbing. Who knew how many years he survived down there.
“I’m sorry.”
Slowly, Lavinia arose and sat up on her bed. She shifted to let her legs dangle from the side but still sat listlessly. She forced herself to stand and stared sideways toward the floor.
“I don’t know where Lauren is. But I can get us to the hangar. However, it won’t be pretty. And you may hate me afterwards.”