c. 2026 Rod Ice
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(5-26)
Serge Tarka’s plan to eliminate the threat posed by invading, Seagull bots seemed simple enough as a concept. And the implementation would be easy to accomplish. Yet when he started the repurposed transmitter from his downed craft, they were presented with an unexpected reaction from the airborne surveyors. The semi-autonomous devices began to swarm around their prey, once again taking flight. In an aerial ballet of chaotic interdependence, the units soared upward, dived precipitously, and rolled as if gravity and gyroscopic orientation had no bearing on their work. Then, there was a glimmering glow of energy pulses, between the mechanized birds.
Kelly Strafe had to shield her eyes from the white-hot glare.
“What are those blasted things doing? It looks like they are about to explode!”
Her partner from the university reacted with a defensive twist of his upper body, and a sideways jerk that took both of them to the ground. There was no time to explain this impulsive maneuver. But a moment of finality appeared to be at hand.
“Brace yourself, that’s exactly what they are about to do! Get down and stay down!”
A ring of electric fire sparked around the shuttle, leaving its hull scarred and buckled. The resonant boom that resulted echoed all across Evergreen Estates, and off the hillside slope above their position. Some unexplained variance in the Seagull design had added a terminal feature, in the event of an assault. Perhaps a measure taken by engineers from Toqua Platte, as a safety feature while operating so far from home. Or, a byproduct of the virtual learning curve employed by the surveyors themselves, as a feature of artificial intelligence.
All of the wandering devices had committed suicide, in unison. Tarka was stunned.
“Believe me, I beg of you... this defies any sense of logic. Someone must have altered their onboard programming. These machines were never intended to kill!”
Strafe and her companion had both been scalded in the blast. They were closer to the shuttle transport, while the Frigoris-Farragut commander stood with his radio controller, atop a set of fiberglass steps outside one of the singlewide trailers.
Ashes had scattered around the street and nearby yards, after this explosive conclusion to their experiment. But the Digger appeared to have remained intact.
Baines struggled to stand, while scratching residue out of his red beard.
“That was really dramatic! It’s hard to think that your team in Calimex would do such a thing, because it puts them at a great disadvantage, now. But we’ll never be sure, I suppose. Whatever the case, our shuttle is free once again. The next question is more of a quandary though, what should we do now?”
His female cohort had skinned her knees in taking a tumble. She spat out bits of gravel and weeds.
“That’s a damn good question, Juddy! Will they give up on hunting down our little ship, or keep searching for a way to steal it for good?”
Tarka put aside his remote device, and sat on the steps, while thinking.
“They’ve got our location, that can be assured. I would guess that they think the lander-capsule crew are all dead, including myself. So, the only remaining goal would be to commandeer your vessel, and study its propulsion system. But the problem of traveling so far over land still remains. My coastal republic doesn’t have a sophisticated network for moving people and cargo by air. Our lift capabilities are inhibited by fuel shortages, and a manufacturing deficiency. We’ve basically been piecing together old hardware from a century ago. Lotharian Gardino can’t be underestimated, however, he’s an innovator by nature. And he has the thought patterns of a gambler. Taking risks is never a challenge for him, never an obstacle. I can’t be certain of how honest he has been with engineers at my facility, or with the other members of his ruling council...”
Strafe pondered their plight for a moment, before offering strategic direction.
“Okay boys, here’s what we know. They have this abandoned village pinned on their map boards. That’s already been confirmed by the Seagull bots, right? It gives them a starting point to keep hunting. So, our best plan of action is pretty obvious, we’ve got to bug out! Change the parameters, and it’ll upend their little game of hide-and-seek. Confuse them and watch it mess with their heads!”
The professional scholar winced a bit while listening. His friend from the Space Force was still slightly off-balance after her cranial injury. She had a bold edge to her personality that was exaggerated from its original character. But what she said was undeniably correct.
“Kells, our only way out of here is in the Digger. But we won’t know if it has suffered any serious damage without a test run of the drive unit. That could be tricky if something fails with us in the sky and moving at speed!”
Serge Tarka offered a wise note of dissent. He remembered that the signature whistle of Cloitanium cells in operation had first given them a clue that the technology existed in their region of the solar system.
“If you want to fly that thing, it has to be done judiciously. Your drive tubes will call out to the people on duty at my western, technical center. It will indicate what we are doing, in real time. There has to be another way, we can’t just hand them an advantage by acting too hastily...”
The former lieutenant stomped her feet and swore, in defiance.
“Okay, if that’s a damn problem, then keep the shuttle in first gear! Use the Gibidan Impeller, it’ll conserve energy as a bonus. If we travel like a snail, it won’t matter too much. Any amount of distance will throw them off track. Once we’ve found a new spot to land, the craft can be camouflaged so it won’t be seen by aerial surveillance. That’s all we need to worry about. I’m tired of this old dump, anyway!”
Professor Baines stroked his temples while considering this shift in tactics. He remembered listening to the primitive broadcasts from Grafton Depot, a reference point not far away, if traveling in the shuttle. Some sort of communal structure must exist there, to produce the radio outreach he had heard. It was reasonable to assume they might be welcomed, if entering the tiny enclave on foot, after hiding the Digger.
“Okay, I guess we’ve got no other choice. You can bet that more of those Seagull bots will be on the horizon, very soon. Let’s load up the transport, and get moving!”
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