Extinction

and landed hard on her face in the dirt. I knew that fall had to hurt, nanites or not. A falling body sped up much more rapidly on Helios. The planet’s gravity had a way of grabbing you and slamming you down when you fell. Tripping and falling on your face felt like you’d jumped off a roof. I helped her up, still laughing.

“Get your hands off me,” she growled.

I thought about letting her fall on her face again, but didn’t want to push things too far. I probably already had.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“You mean, why did I let you kick me in the ass?”

“No, I mean-” she broke off. “I was just so worried, Kyle. I hate the feeling-you know that. You snuck out on me. You should have told me you were going to go fight Worms at the bottom of some hole. For hours, I thought you were dead. Did you know that? For hours.”

“I thought I was dead, too,” I said.

Sandra trudged beside me, brooding. I was relieved when she stopped talking and didn’t give me a longer lecture. That was one thing about her I appreciated. She was a very physical girl. If you pissed her off, she didn’t make a speech-but you might have to duck.

“If you ever flip me again, you’ll wake up without any hair,” she said.

“Better count your fingers first. I bite.”

When we got back to the command brick and to our shared quarters, I stripped down and climbed into the shower cubicle. It was one of the few units in the entire base that wasn’t publicly shared. Rank had its privileges.

About half-way through, when the cubicle was nicely steamed-up, Sandra joined me. She didn’t talk at all. Her body was firm and insistent. The cubicle was really too small for that sort of thing-but we made do.

— 49-

I spent the next two of Helios’ day-night cycles working with the factories. They were fully set up now in the midst of the base. I scripted them to produce new, large-system components. Starting with the base design of a hovertank, I made many alterations. My plan was to mimic the drilling-sled structure of the Worm-machines. These new drilling tanks would be long and cylindrical. They would have their lasers at the nose, with a very short range, high-powered beam unit.

The required systems list was kept to a minimum. They needed grav units and reactors, of course, just to be able to move. Normally, all of my Nano machines had a rigid external shell. These machines would be different. In order to scoot through rock and soft earth freely, they would have a more flesh-like exterior. They would be able squeeze through tight spots of hard rock-much like a native Worm. The body contours and flexibility were provided by balloon-like masses of nanites. I worked with chains of nanites, forming a bubble-like skin that was flexible and gave to the touch. If you pressed too deeply or suddenly, however, the skin would snap taut, becoming rigid. In the case of a cave-in, they would not pop like soap bubbles. They would turn hard like turtle shells, protecting my marines.

Captain Sarin interrupted my scripting and testing as dawn rose on the third ‘day’.

“Sir? The Macros are calling. I think they want to talk to you.”

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. “Patch them through.”

“Can we listen in?” she asked.

“Be my guest.”

“Patching.”

I waited for a dozen seconds. “Identify yourself.”

“This is Kyle Riggs, commander of allied Earth forces,” I said.

“You have exceeded your allotted mission time.”

I raised my eyebrows. This was news to me. “We were not given a specific mission time-constraint.”

“That is irrelevant. You have exceeded your allotted mission time.”

I sighed. Snide comments churned in my head. I pushed them aside. Getting snotty with the Macros never helped anything. “We request aid,” I said, “to help us get on schedule.”

“Specify.”

“Use your ground-bombardment cannons to reduce the enemy stronghold to a crater.”

“Salvo reserves are at minimal levels. Enemy mound-shell is prohibitively resistant. Request denied.”

My mind echoed the words: enemy mound-shell. Interesting. Equally interesting, the Macros must have limits to their firepower and supplies, just like everyone else. The only bad news was they had apparently grown tired of watching us sit in our base and defend against Worm assaults.

“We will attack in sixteen local days,” I said.

“Unacceptable. You have exceeded your allotted mission time.”

“Yeah, I got that. We request a time-extension.”

“Granted. You must attack within two local days.”

I thought about that. Eighteen hours? I tapped at my computer slate. I wasn’t sure I’d have a single drilling machine ready by then. “I’m not sure we can do it so soon. Explain the consequences of a failure to comply.”

“This fleet unit will perform a strategic withdrawal in two local days.”

“Clarification of your statement is required: You will pick us up and retreat from the system in two days.”

“Negative. Failed experimental ground forces will be left in place.”

I felt cold inside. Helios forever? “Tell me when you will return to pick us up.”

“Target worlds are placed upon a priority-queue. When this target returns to the head of the queue, Macro fleet units will return.”

“Specify the time span.”

“Unknown.”

I was breathing faster. I couldn’t help it. ‘Unknown’ sounded like it could be a very long time indeed. “We will attack within two local days.”

“Accepted,” said the sexless Macro voice.

“How will you know we have achieved our objective?”

“Macro Command must be linked to the goal point.”

I frowned, not quite sure what to make of their requirement. “You want us to contact you when we reach the center of the mountain?”

“Macro Command must be linked to the goal point.”

I grunted, somehow I’d missed their point. They wanted to be connected to the goal point. Well, the only way I could think of would be to drag a nanite strand down there with me. Radio wasn’t going to penetrate miles of rock. “We’ll take a nanite strand with us into the mountain. When we reach the goal point, we will make contact.”

“Accepted. Session terminated.”

The channel closed and I was left staring at my computer slate. I tapped at it quickly, pausing to think now and then.

Another incoming channel request beeped. It was Major Robinson-he and the entire command post staff had been listening in. I tapped at a screen and the channel opened.

“Sir,” Robinson said, sounding jittery. “We can’t possibly be ready in eighteen hours.”

“We’ll be ready, Major,” I said.

“How, sir?”

“We’ll use the existing hovertanks. We’ll refocus the existing heavy lasers, turning them into new, nosecone drilling-units. Underneath, these planned drilling-sleds use the same components as the hovertanks.”

“Underground hovertanks, sir?” asked Robinson, sounding incredulous.

“You’re right. It is a weak-sounding name. Let’s call them drill-tanks. I like the way