Mind Warp, page 7
Zoids. Tons of them. And they’re using their zombie prisoners as a human shield.
Cronos’s commands fill the air.
‘Scavengers, hold back!’ he’s shouting. ‘Be ready for when the zoids break through.’ He pauses. Then, ‘Attack!’ he roars.
From several points at the edge of the forest, Mid-Deckers emerge. Weapons drawn, the wing-men take to the air, fly over the top of the line of lurching humans and fire down on the zoids behind. Lizard-men join them, kicking off with their powerful legs, and leaping over the heads of the humans before opening fire. Fur-men and gill-men barrel forward, trusting that their thick skin will be enough to repel the zoids’ tracer-fire. Though as I watch, first one, then a second, brave Mid-Decker is brought down.
Not that the zoids are getting it all their own way. Swooping and diving, the wing-men are taking them out. So are the lizard-men. Then, from somewhere to my right I hear the telltale click of a frack-grenade pin being pulled, and I look round to see the muscular arm of a fur-man tossing the primed weapon over the heads of the zombie-like humans and inside the container-pod.
With a loud bang and a blinding flash, the grenade explodes and the air is filled with white-hot scraps of metal as a zoid is blown up.
The Mid-Deckers are trying their best not to harm any of the humans as they launch attack after attack on the zoids. But casualties are inevitable. As the human shield continues to lurch awkwardly forward, I see a woman struck by a chunk of flying debris. Then a man, lasered in the back by a zoid, stumbles and falls. The pair of them slam down to the ground, where they remain, their bodies twitching as the control-collars compel them to keep advancing.
‘We need to get them out of there,’ I tell Belle, as familiar-looking killer zoids start gliding through the gaps in the human shield, firing wildly.
Belle nods, but before either of us can act, the two droids I saw earlier head towards them and start tending to the injured humans. They seem oblivious to the fact that we’re in the middle of a pitched battle.
But then one of the killer zoids stops firing. It turns to the droids and I see it reach out with its extendable arms and seize the pair of them in its grasp. A zigzag bolt of electro-static passes between them, and when it switches off, the droids’ yellow eyes show that they have turned as bad as all the rest.
Before they can move, two shots ring out. Laser fire zaps the droids in their chests, zilching them, and they clatter to the ground.
‘Get all remaining droids back to the Sanctuary to avoid further contamination,’ I hear Cronos bellow.
The next moment he’s beside me. There’s a lens-head droid buzzing at his shoulder.
‘York,’ he says. ‘Just the person I wanted to see.’
‘Is it time to return fire?’ I say. ‘We’ll take good care not to hit any more of the people in the human shield, and . . .’
But Cronos is shaking his head. ‘I’ve just received fresh information,’ he tells me urgently. ‘This assault here is nothing but a diversion. The main attack is about to take place at Inter-Level Transporter number one.’
‘Number one,’ I repeat numbly.
‘It’s on the far side of the ocean zone,’ Belle tells me.
Cronos nods. ‘I want you two, together with your band of scavengers, to be there waiting for them when they arrive,’ he says. ‘Then deal with them.’ He nods back to the killer zoids. ‘We’ll hold this lot off as best we can. Go,’ he says urgently. ‘Go now. Before it’s too late.’
It doesn’t feel right leaving the others while the battle is still raging. But if Cronos’s info is correct, there’s no choice.
I stick two fingers in my mouth and whistle loudly – three short, sharp bursts. It’s something Bronx taught me, years back. The scavengers gather for instructions. And then we’re off, hightailing it to Transporter 1.
The most direct route there is through the polar zone. But with the refrigerator units up and running once more, and the temp an even minus twelve, the place is just too cold. Instead, Belle leads us round the perimeter fence. And then, when we come to the thick visiglass walls of the vast ocean-zone tank, she takes us down a staircase that leads underneath it.
‘A short cut,’ she explains. ‘We’ll make up the time we’ve lost.’
We race down the stairs and along the corridor, passing droids that are busy repairing the lighting system. The floor is paved with touch-sensitive light panels that come on, one after the other, as we tread on them. And Belle’s right. We should make up the time – and definitely would do, if it wasn’t for my fellow scavengers.
Born and raised in the Outer Hull, they’ve never seen anything like the display of weird sea critters through the visiglass ceiling above our heads. Scarcely able to believe their eyes, they keep stopping for a closer look. At the darting shoals of tiny silver fish. At the prowling sharks and ink-squirting squid. At the eels and sea horses, anemones and crabs, and the ordered battalions of stripy cuttlefish . . .
Fact is, everything seems to fascinate them.
‘Is that an octopus?’ I hear Tex ask Lina, and turn to see that they’ve fallen back yet again.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ I shout at them. ‘Keep up.’
Finally we all make it to the other side. Belle climbs the staircase two steps at a time, and we race after her. We emerge in the open air next to a box-shaped power unit and an info post.
Zone 7: Mediterranean.
And to the right of that is Inter-Level Transporter 1.
The light panel above the huge double doors is still red – but I can hear the deep hum of the approaching container-pod from inside the shaft. The zoids will be here at any moment. So far I’ve only seen familiar types of killer zoids. But if this is the main attack, I’m guessing they’ll have saved the most-dangerous zoids for now.
‘You said they’d upgraded,’ I say to Lina and Dek. ‘What can we expect?’
‘All sorts,’ says Lina.
‘Your worst nightmare,’ Dek adds.
We should prepare for their arrival, I realize. And if they’re as bad as Dek and Lina are saying, then we’re going to need more than gunkballs and cutters.
Question is, what?
Then I remember something I witnessed in the memory banks. How Dirk Miller and the group of scientists zilched that zoid, way back when the Rebellion started . . .
I hurry across to the power unit and pull the front cover off. Inside is a tangled mess of wires and cables. I locate the induction-flux hub and switch the energy off. Throughout the Mediterranean zone, lights go off, pumped water stops flowing and the buzzing air falls silent.
‘These need to be spread out in front of the transporter doors,’ I say, as I pull out the bundle of black cables and multicoloured wires from the power unit, unravel them and start to feed them out to my fellow scavengers.
Working together, Lina, Dek, Tex and the others lay them out. Soon, the wires are spread in a large rectangle in front of the doors and every centimetre of the ground is covered in a criss-cross grid.
‘It looks like some kind of doormat,’ Dek comments.
‘A welcome mat,’ I say, drawing my cutter. ‘We’re going to give them a welcome they won’t ever forget.’
Dropping to my knees, I start stripping the safety casing away, exposing the metal wires inside. The others join in. The colourful mat turns to silver.
Above the double doors of the transporter, the light panel starts flashing red.
‘Pull back!’ I yell. ‘Take cover!’
As the others retreat, I race to the power unit and crouch down. A single cable connects all the wires we’ve laid out to the induction-flux hub. I only hope it holds.
The light turns green.
I crouch down. Look round. I can’t see Belle, and it occurs to me that I haven’t seen her since we first arrived at the transporter. I’d call out for her, but it’s too late now. The doors are sliding open . . .
Just like before, light comes pouring out of the transporter unit. But this time, instead of zombie-like humans appearing at the entrance, it’s zoids. Upgrades. Monstrous upgrades, standing in a long line . . .
‘Hot swarf,’ I murmur.
One has six long pneumatic legs that hiss as they flex. Mounted on them is a huge disc-shaped body, with lights and antennae dotted over the shiny urilium surface, and three retractable arms that are armed with lasers and rocket launchers.
The next zoid is different. It’s at least twice as tall as the first, and supported on what look like hundreds of stubby metal digits. It has a broad angular midsection, with four flexible arms sticking out on all sides. Each arm is round and jointed and tipped with different devices: pincers, probes and the gleaming barrels of heavy laser weaponry.
The third is different again. Made up of two parts, it looks like some kind of articulated vehicle. The front half has piston-like legs; the back half, hinged units that look as if they’re designed to jump . . .
And so it goes on. There are twelve, so far as I can make out. Each zoid is different from the one next to it, unique in design and purpose. The only thing they all have in common is that, unlike old-style robots, none of these upgrades looks anything like a human being. These are machines, made by machines, for machines.
Invincible, Dek said they were, and now I can see why.
Just then there’s a whirring, buzzing, droning noise. It’s coming from the line of zoids, and I see their weapons flash and vibrate as they power up. Then there are more noises. Bleeps and trills, along with other sounds so deep I can barely hear them – though I can feel them. One zoid jerks into motion. Another shuffles forward, the lights on its outer casing pulsing. A third, further along the line, raises an arm.
They’re communicating with one another, I realize. Assessing the situation here in the Mid Deck. Making plans . . .
Suddenly all the zoid lights start to flash in unison. The noises cease. The zoids march forward.
My shaking hand hovers above the induction-flux hub. Split-second timing is crucial if this is going to work. I have to keep my nerve.
I watch the first zoid step out of the container-pod and down onto the silvery blanket of exposed wires. Then the second. Then the third. I wait until the first zoid is in the middle of the booby trap we’ve laid – then slam my hand down hard on the flux-hub unit.
The energy comes back on and . . .
There’s a colossal BOOM! and a blinding flash of blue-white light as the power shorts and arcs. The six long pneumatic legs of the zoid at the front of the line kick out wildly, sparks streaming from the articulated joints. The curved body rocks and sways, and the weapons start to fire at random, shooting lasers and frack-rockets.
I stand stock-still, mesmerized, as they scythe down branches and explode in the air.
There’s loud crackling and hissing, and a dazzling jagged halo of light suddenly surrounds the zoid. Its light units flash, then explode. Steaming gunk-juice spurts from cracks that appear in its white-hot outer casing. It swivels, jerks. It lurches backwards, then forwards, then backwards again, attempting to maintain balance. Then, giving up the struggle, the whole lot keels backwards . . .
And slams into the second zoid.
Which topples back against the third . . .
They tumble like dominoes – one after the other – completing the circuit and causing the electro-pulse to course through their systems. The booby trap is working. Motherboards short out. Weapons explode. Soon all twelve zoids have been zilched.
Of course, I tell myself, there are bound to be masses more deadly upgrade zoids back in the Outer Hull. We humans might still not win the war. But this is one battle that we have won, and I feel proud to have been a part of it . . .
But I’ve spoken too soon. My stomach churns as I stare into the container-pod.
‘Uh-oh,’ I groan.
The thirteenth killer zoid is bigger and meaner-looking than all the rest. While the others lie in a long unbroken chain where they’ve fallen, their smoking bodies inactive, this thirteenth zoid glides silently forward.
It’s immense, standing at least five metres tall. A small domed head unit with a single light set into the front is mounted on a broad barrel-shaped torso. It’s got arms, six of them. And they’re fitted with a fearsome array of weapons. Stack lasers. Alpha-ray diffusers. Taser-spikes. UV missiles. Frack-grenade repeater units . . .
I’ve never seen a zoid so well armed.
The one thing it doesn’t have is legs. Instead three pipes are fixed to the bottom of the torso unit, each one shooting down a vertical jet of hot air that allows it to hover above the ground – unaffected by the electro-pulse.
‘Scavengers at the ready!’ I shout as the zoid glides out of the container-pod.
It moves slowly over the metal floor of the container pod and the sparking blanket of wires. Pausing for a moment above the burned-out zoids, it inspects the damage. Its headpiece swivels. Bleeps. Then it moves on, towards the trees.
I wonder where my fellow scavengers have got to. In this kind of situation, we have two choices. One, to remain hidden. Two, to attack. But with a zoid this well tooled-up, that would be desperately risky . . .
The air seems to throb with tension.
Suddenly I catch a flash of movement. And I might have known. It’s Belle. She’s leaping down from the top of one of the pine trees and lands on the zoid’s back. Then, legs wrapped tightly round its upper section, she clamps one hand over the light on its head and raises her other arm high in the air. The cutter she’s holding glints in the single arc-light.
The next moment, with unbelievable speed and immense power, she brings her arm down. The blade of the cutter slams down into the narrow gap between the zoid’s domed head unit and its barrel-shaped torso. Thick grey-green zoid-juice spurts back into her face . . .
And she loses her grip.
The zoid lurches from side to side, the hover-jets hissing intermittently as one, then the other, shuts off and on. It’s malfunctioning. But it hasn’t given up. And as I watch, the arm with the taser-spike bends upwards.
The weapon hums as it charges up to max power. It begins to glow. The tip of the spike sparks as it closes in on Belle’s back . . .
‘Stop!’ a voice cries out, and I turn to see someone racing out of the trees.
‘Lina!’ I shout.
Then Dek and Tex appear behind her. It all happens so fast. Before I can so much as move, the zoid swivels around, buzzing, bleeping, scans Dek and Tex, then gets Lina in its sights.
And fires . . .
But not before Lina has thrown herself to the ground and rolled over. As I watch, she pulls herself up to a low crouch, aims her pulser and fires back. The zoid lurches to one side. Lina fires again. And again. And Belle, wiping the gunk from her eyes, scrambles up the zoid’s massive shoulder unit and slams down with the cutter a second time.
This time, the blade penetrates the zoid’s central control-mode. The lights go out and, with one last sputter, the hover-jets shut off. Belle jumps free as it topples to one side. The next moment, the zoid hits the ground with a loud crash.
Belle picks herself up. She’s undamaged. She looks around and, seeing Lina still lying on the floor, her pulser drawn, she crosses towards her.
‘You risked your life for me,’ she says.
Lina looks up at her. ‘You risked your life for us,’ she says.
‘That was different,’ Belle tells her. ‘That was my robot protocol at work.’
And I see Lina smile. ‘That was my human protocol at work,’ she says.
Belle smiles back.
Then she reaches down to Lina. Lina returns her pulser to her belt and takes Belle’s hand, and Belle pulls her to her feet. The two of them are looking into one another’s eyes. Then, at exactly the same moment, they both utter a single word.
‘Thanks.’
The atmosphere is triumphant.
‘Bring it on!’ Tex is shouting. ‘We’re scavengers! We won’t be defeated!’
And the others whoop and cheer.
I know just how they’re feeling. We’ve done it! With a mixture of cunning and bravery, we zilched the invading zoids. Every single one of them. And, for our pains, we’ve got a mass of gleaming zoid wreckage that’ll keep us in parts for a long time to come.
The thing is though, it isn’t over yet. Not by a long way. According to Belle, internal alarms in the zilched zoids have already alerted others back in the Outer Hull, and it won’t be long before a second attack is launched.
‘We need to clear away those zoids,’ I tell the others. ‘Get the transporter doors locked and sealed . . .’
‘They need to do that,’ Belle tells me, nodding to Lina, Dek and the others. ‘We need to get back to Zone 8. Dextra should have repaired the life-pods by now.’
Lina’s overheard us. I see her frown and expect her to object to us setting off on our own again. But something in her seems to have changed. She still might not like Belle, but she has a new respect for her. More importantly, she seems to trust her.
‘We have to return to the memory banks of the Core and finish this thing once and for all,’ I explain to her.
And Lina nods and smiles and takes both my hands in hers. ‘I know,’ she says. She squeezes my hands warmly. ‘I’ll be waiting for you when you’ve succeeded.’
I smile back. Lina sounds a lot more sure about me than I do about myself.
‘Take care, York,’ she says, and lets me go. ‘Take care, both of you.’
Belle and I head back through the Mediterranean zone towards Zone 8 as quickly as we can. With the power still out, the walkways are not moving. But we make good progress over the scrubby terrain, passing between wild olives, cork oaks and shaggy pine trees. Birds perch in their branches. Goats graze in their shade. And the warm air is filled with the smell of orange blossom and thyme . . .
