That was close.
I had been lucky that there had only been six of them.
“Hello?” I said into my comm unit. What had happened to the rest of the team? “Anyone there?” I called again. But there was no response—just a wash of white noise. I was still being jammed. But by what?
I got my answer a second later. The clang of feet pounding echoed throughout the hallway. I peeked around the corner and saw a squad of bots advancing from the east. They were bipedal and larger than the guardian bots we had run into back in the gallery. Not quite as tall as me, but at least up to my chest.
I searched my memory to try to identify them. As part of my briefing, Piettow had implanted knowledge of all the technology I might expect to encounter on the other side of the Fountain—including bots. I finally was able to place them. These looked like some variation of a prowler bot.
Prowlers were probably considered a state-of-the-art security bot 700 years ago, but they were hopelessly primitive by today’s standards. Still, with their quad radiant blasters, heavy-duty plating, motion targeting capability, and the ability to coordinate their efforts, they were plenty deadly. And now eight of them were marching down the corridor towards me.
I knew I needed to lure them away from the depot. As long as my dad was in hibernation and closed in that coupler closet, the bots wouldn’t bother him, but I didn’t want to risk a firefight in there.
Thankfully, the prowlers hadn’t locked on to me yet. I pressed up against the wall and made my way west towards the big intersection, moving as quickly as I could. I needed to find some cover.
I ducked around the corner south and paused to check the topo on my Aura.
About 300 meters to the north was Bandala’s central core. I had no idea what might be there, but it was too far away. West was back towards where I had left the rest of the team. If I could get to the access hatch to the lower level, I might be okay. I didn’t think prowlers could climb. But then again, if they could get the hatch open, they’d be able to plug away at me while I was climbing down. No thanks.
According to the topo, the south corridor led back to the main entrance with the murals. Unfortunately it was over a thousand meters away. I doubted that I’d be able to outrun the prowlers over that distance.
What was I going to do?
My eyes settled on the row of hover-carts against the wall. Their propulsion systems were dead, of course, and I had no idea how to power them up. I might be able to figure it out if I had more than fifteen seconds, but for now the hover-carts were just several metric tons of solidly-built metal objects. Perfect for cover against blaster bolts.
A plan formed in my mind. And it involved one of my micro drones.
As the prowlers rounded the corner into the intersection, I launched the drone.
I watched as the prowlers swiveled and tracked the drone as it buzzed right in front of them. My gut tightened in fear. Would they just blast it out of the air and ruin my plan before it started?
Then suddenly they let loose—eight prowlers firing at least one of their quad RBs. The bolts thickened the air—but luckily the drone was too quick and too maneuverable. None of the bolts found their tiny target. This forced the prowlers to pursue—north up the corridor towards the core.
They were moving quickly, marching on their hydraulic-powered legs, and in a few seconds they would be out of range.
This was my chance.
I braced my RB on top of the hover-cart I was hiding behind, took aim on the leftmost prowler, inhaled deeply, then fired.
Whoosh!
Direct hit.
And because I hit it from behind, I struck the vulnerable part between its leg housings. Essentially, I shot it in the ass.
The prowler didn’t explode in a spectacular shower of debris. That might have been asking for too much. But I did stop the bot in its tracks by blowing apart the connection between its legs and its top combat module.
I kept shooting, adjusting my aim a few meters to the east. Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three shots, spaced perfectly.
The only variable was my targets’ reaction.
The next two went down without a hitch.
But these prowlers must have been networked together, because they quickly realized what was happening.
Prowler number four broke formation just as I fired and jumped to its right. My bolt missed it by a meter or so.
Now their algos had to make sense of both a fleeing target in front of them and an attacker behind them.
I guess survival won out.
The remaining five prowlers turned on their robotic heels and charged south down the corridor back towards me.
Now I was kind of screwed.
I got off a few more shots, but my attacks were fruitless. The prowlers were too heavily armored up front. I’d need much heavier weapons to even make a dent. The best I could do was take pot shots at their feet, hoping to damage their balancing mechanisms.
Yeah, bad plan.
The prowlers came at me fast. Much faster than I expected.
But I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Pumped up with adrenalin, I gave myself a running start and dove beneath the closest hover-cart. I slid across the floor, kicking up dust as I blasted at the legs of the prowlers. They tried to fire back, but the angle was off for them. And by the time they realized where I had been, I was moving again— scrambling up and racing along the beds of the hover-carts.
But the prowlers reacted quickly, blasting in my direction. One shot pounded me in the chest, knocking me
