I wasn’t sure about these in particular, but most arthrodes did not possess ranged weapons. Their preferred mode of attack was close combat.
The arthrodes worked as a pack, forming up in a semi-circle to block my exit.
This was insane. I powered back my comm unit and yelled into it, “Help! I’m pinned down by hostiles in the first depot room east of the four-way intersection. I don’t think I can hold them off!”
My comm unit relayed nothing but a wash of static.
“Ana-Zhi, come in!”
The arthrodes each rose up, lifting the front of their bodies like a snake getting ready to strike. They continued their mechanical chittering and whirring. Maybe they were scanning me, trying to determine the quickest way to take me out.
“Anyone, come in!”
Nothing. It was like my comm unit was being jammed.
My eyes darted frantically around the depot. The maze of machinery stretched out to the east. I didn’t want to go in there. If anything, I needed to lead them away from my father. But where?
South and west were the cargo tunnels. I knew that they dead-ended into the circular galleries. If I tried to escape in that direction, I’d be trapped for sure.
The only way out of here was north through the archway back into the main east/west corridor. But that direction was blocked by the arthrodes, which were now swaying rhythmically.
What the hell were they waiting for?
I glanced back at the maze of machinery and a plan began to form in my mind. But first I tried my comm unit one more time.
“Anyone there? I’m in some serious shit. Come in!”
Nothing. I was on my own.
I powered up my magtouch system and began to inch towards a tall pressurized storage tank on the edge of the machine room. I was interested in three things about it. First, it appeared to be made out of some sort of metallic compound. Second, it towered up a good dozen meters tall, just about to the ceiling. Finally, the sides of the tank were as smooth and rounded as Lirala’s naked bottom, which I probably shouldn’t be thinking about at this particular moment of time. But I couldn’t help it. Lir had a particular talent for lodging graphic sexual images in my mind—usually against my will.
I shook my head to clear it, and took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
I drew my RB and fired at the two arthrodes closest to me. I scored a lucky hit on one, hitting it just below its head and basically blowing the arthrode’s front half clean off. My next shot was a little too high and the bolt glanced off the second arthrode’s chitinous armor in a shower of sparks.
But I didn’t hesitate even for a second. I sprinted toward the storage tank and leapt up onto its side, landing with a resounding clang as my magtouch gloves and boots locked on.
A meter below me, the closest of the arthrodes scrambled towards my legs, clacking its pincer-like appendages angrily.
I kept moving, climbing up the sheer vertical wall of the tank and praying that the bots would be unable to follow.
Oops. I guess my general lack of faith had consequences. It turned out that not only were the arthrodes able to climb the smooth walls of the metal tank, they were able to climb them a lot faster than I could.
The closest arthrode jumped onto my leg while I frantically raced towards the top of the tank. I felt its weight on me and the loud sound of its maniacal whirring and chittering momentarily blanked my audio.
My exosuit kept me from being sliced to ribbons by the scalpel-like pinchers, but the armor wouldn’t hold up forever. I had to get this thing off of me, and I couldn’t risk shooting near a tank that very well could be filled with hydrogen or some other highly-flammable substance.
As the arthrode snapped and tore at me, trying to dislodge me from the side of the tank, I freed one of my hands, reached to my belt for my judder knife, and keyed it on. Then I slashed at the arthrode, severing its metal limbs and tearing into its robotoid carapace like cutting through soft butter. The bot released its grip on me and tumbled to the ground ten meters below.
There was no time to celebrate. Another arthrode skittered around the side of the tank and charged me. But I was ready for it.
I was quickly becoming knowledgeable about what parts of the bots’ bodies were most vulnerable. I plunged my judder knife into an unprotected space between two of its plated segments and then ran it up through the arthrode’s thorax, carving it in two.
Breathing heavily from the effort, I scrambled up to the top of the tank. I had a good view of the remaining three arthrodes as they clattered towards me. But before they could get close, I initiated the magtouch repulsors on my boots, setting them to full thrust. Then I jumped the three meters to the ceiling.
My gloves caught hold and soon I was scampering along the ceiling like I had done a million times during exosuit training.
Finally my luck held. It turned out that the arthrodes were unable to follow me onto the ceiling. But they were smart little buggers. They flew off the storage tank and raced along the ground beneath me, tracking me as I moved.
I didn’t care. I just wanted them away from my dad—and the hydrogen tanks.
My muscles burned as I made my way across the ceiling towards the archway which led to the main corridor. I spied a narrow ledge along the top of the archway and headed for that. Below me, the arthrodes chittered and swarmed, clacking their pincers and waiting for me to fall.
But I didn’t fall. I climbed down to the
