Now that the hacker was theoretically in control of the access point, it meant she could connect to the Net without alerting the central AI.
But if DragonHunter’s dongle software had failed…
She decided not to risk it.
Then again, if the dongle had failed, then the security camera would have already triggered an “unidentified device” alarm.
As she made her way back the way she had come, she decided she might as well connect. DragonHunter might need her to go back and apply the dongle again or something.
Rhea activated her comm node and signed into the Net via the compromised access point. She pulled up DragonHunter’s name in her contact list and initiated a call.
“Did you get the ID?” she asked when he picked up.
“I did,” DragonHunter replied. “The camera is loaded and good to go. By the way, there was no match in the public profile database.”
“Figures,” Rhea said.
“Do you need the ID?” DragonHunter asked. “In case you want to perform any local lookups?”
“I don’t—” she began, but then received the share request a moment later. She reluctantly accepted. She didn’t really intend to search for the owner of that ID while she was here—at the moment all she wanted to do was get out.
“I’m going incognito again,” she said.
“Wait, watch yourself,” he sent. “There are two robots around the bend ahead. You might want to backtrack.”
“How close are they?” she asked.
“Seven meters,” he replied. “Looks like they’ve stopped to examine something.”
She approached the bend that led back to the stairwell, and carefully peered past.
Two robots were examining the broken closet handle.
She ducked immediately.
A sudden clanging came from around the bend, as of metal feet on the hard floor. Growing in volume.
The robots were approaching her.
Had they seen her?
Well, either way, there wasn’t time to retreat. Based on the pace of those footfalls, the robots would be here in seconds.
She disabled her comm node. There was nothing DragonHunter could do for her now and hearing his voice in her head during the coming fight would only distract her.
She retrieved two CommNixers from her sack.
When she thought the robots were steps away from the bend, she vaulted around it. She tossed the two CommNixers in rapid succession, and the magnetic mounts attached to the heads of each robot, cutting off their communications.
They raised the rifles built into their forearms, but Rhea was already lifting her leg in a spin kick. Her foot struck the closest robot in the chest—she targeted the region above the power cell. The machine went flying into the wall, leaving a big dent.
But Rhea hardly noticed; she was already threading toward the next machine. She twisted her body as it opened fire: the shots missed, slamming into the wall instead. She wrapped her hands around the rifle barrels and turned the ends upward before her opponent could fire again, effectively disabling the weapons.
Muscle memory guided her through a series of deadly martial art moves, but the robot countered them all perfectly. She tried the same spin kick, but it grabbed her by the leg and used her momentum to swing her around, ramming her into the wall. She left a big hole as she dropped to the floor.
Before she could get up, the robot was on her. It slammed its fists into her torso, targeting the lower right of her torso—where cyborgs, like robots, usually carried their power cells. But what the machine didn’t know was that hers was in a nonstandard location.
She pounded its head with her elbows and raised her knees, trying to shuck off her foe. The robot realized punching her torso was futile, so it shifted its body upward. She tried to slide out from underneath it, but the robot was quick and matched her movements. It pinned her chest with its knees, then wrapped its hands around her neck and squeezed.
Smiling grimly, she slid her fists between its wrists and shoved outward. Didn’t work: the robot was too strong.
Beside her, the second robot was starting to stir—while her kick had left a nice dent in its chest, the armor had apparently saved its power cell. She had caused a temporary spike of some kind, though, as evidenced by its sluggish recovery.
She grabbed the second robot’s forearm and lifted the intact rifle barrel to her current opponent’s head. She threaded her other hand around the arms of the robot that choked her and wrapped her fingers around the barrel, holding it in place. Then, with the arm closest to the second machine freed up again, she slammed her fist down, smashing it into the power cell area of the still-recovering robot.
The armor was already damaged from her kick, so she expected it to cave readily, but the area proved surprisingly resilient.
An alert sounded on her HUD.
Warning. Brain hypoxia imminent. Warning.
She lifted her hand and brought her fist down again. Again. Still nothing.
Warning.
She felt dizzy, and knew she only had a few more moments of consciousness left.
She released another three blows in rapid succession, and finally managed to collapse the area above the power cell. Sparks erupted from the second robot, and it spasmed.
Come on, fire your weapon. Fire!
She tugged on the rifle with her other hand, trying to spur a response.
There—finally the convulsing robot fired. Plasma ripped into the first robot’s head, and it released her.
She rolled away before the first robot realized it was merely blinded; she kept her grip on the second robot’s forearm the whole time. She landed on top of the second machine and slammed her fist into the power cell
