“But they’re part machine.”
Hawthorne frowned before nodding. “You’re saying that the cybertanks are part machine, but also partly human?”
“Entirely machine,” Manteuffel said, “except for the brain.”
“But not a real brain,” said Hawthorne. “The brain tissue is from various donors and set in programming gel.”
“Don’t be deceived, General. Each cybertank quickly gains its own personality. They begin to think of themselves as human.”
“Oh very well, Colonel. Now get to the point.”
“I think PHC convinced the cybertanks to go along with whatever it is they’re planning.”
“They’re part of the coup?” asked Hawthorne.
“No. Not that far in. The Mark 2042 I spoke with believes that he’s protecting the government.”
“You spoke to him?” said Hawthorne. “Then why didn’t the override codes work?”
“I think we’ll find that a new input plug was inserted.”
“Is that possible?”
“The fact that the override codes don’t work seems to prove it.”
Hawthorne paced. “What if we yanked the new input plug?”
Manteuffel nodded, and then he winced because the head motion made his stomach rip with pain. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Maybe pulling this new plug would allow us to use the CT codes. But how would we get in close enough to pull it?”
“You’re the expert!” shouted Hawthorne. He frowned as bionic men turned toward him. “Sorry, Colonel. But that’s your area of expertise. Don’t you know of a way?”
Manteuffel sipped from the medical bottle. He considered his torn stomach muscles. Then he studied the bionic men. Soon he said, “Yes, I think there is a way.”
19.
The Mark 2042 Cybertank prowled the area of the subterfuge attack. He seethed with rage, but not enough so that he disobeyed orders and left the perimeter given him to guard. In the background rose the monumental Directorate Building. Around it fanned broad streets, plazas, fountains and squat, pentagonal government buildings.
The Mark 2042 exalted in his might and ability to destroy. In all human history, no warrior could do what he did. He was 100 tons of lethality, 20 meters by 12 by 5. Heavy tracks and a Zeitzler 5000 Electromagnetic Engine provided him motive power. He loved the sound of his clanking tracks as he chased the primitive bio-beasts. He had six interchangeable weapons pods, giving him more firepower and flexibility than any warrior ever born or made. To protect him from missiles and cannon shells he had “beehive” flechette launchers, exploding shrapnel that knocked them down before they could strike. The forty beehives also made excellent antipersonnel systems. Earlier this week he’d exploded one of them into a crowd, killing five hundred at a single blow. How the others had fled after that! He’d recorded it, and replayed the video whenever he was bored. That’s how he knew it was 500. Well, precisely 489 dead and wounded. He’d shot the wounded one at a time or smeared them into the pavement with his treads.
On open terrain, his great weight allowed him to fire his magnetic force cannons and heavy lasers even when he moved at top speed. The 100 tons and uncanny shock systems provided the needed stability. And to finish his uniqueness and near invulnerability was his covering of 260mm-thick composite armor.
No one in New Baghdad could take him, and he knew it. The great threat of air attacks and worse, space lasers, ha, they couldn’t touch him down here on the ninth city level. Oh no. If everything worked out right, it was city duty from here on in.
He shot off fifty tracers to punctuate his thought.
His radar and visuals had picked up movement and weaponry. He knew that several bio-beasts with strange mechanical readings prowled his precinct. What the Mark 2042 didn’t know was that he’d fallen prey to one of man’s oldest vices, arrogance.
Suddenly, three of the strange bio-beasts rolled onto the street, heavy rocket launchers aimed at him. Whooshes and rocket ignition sped the missiles on their way.
The Mark 2042 chugged shrapnel from a single beehive. He meant it as a shrug. The missiles blew apart. Then he revved the mighty Zeitzler 5000 and let his treads rip, tearing chunks of pavement as he gave chase.
But these three were different then other bio-beasts. Their legs pumped fast, and they moved. Each time he shot at them, they zipped around another corner.
He swiveled his 100-ton bulk and charged into a building. Masonry exploded. He plowed, his treads churning over desks, chairs and waiting sofas. Glass shattered and walls disappeared. Bricks rained on him.
He burst through the rear wall and onto the next street.
The three bio-beasts had nowhere to hide. He had them dead in his sights. Usually bio-beasts gaped in horror right about now, or they started crying. He got a kick out of that. But these three were different. It’s why he’d gone through the building. They dropped to their bellies and aimed their rocket launchers.
A thousand antipersonnel shells disintegrated them.
As a joke, pretending he was looking for them, he clanked atop their gory shreds and then wheeled, smearing them into the pavement.
Then his sensors pinged with a new attack.
Twenty of them popped up from twenty different locations, firing lasers and rocket launchers. He shrugged off their feeble efforts, but it was nice to see they were trying. Then his probability indicator flashed a warning.
Why were they all ready for him here? Why was this particular spot seemingly point-zero?
Twenty of these tougher, weird-reading bio-beasts dropped from the ceiling. They dropped from the sunlamps way up there. Oh, this was going to be rich. He knew bio-beasts, what their water-sack bodies could take and what they couldn’t. From that high up…
They would go splat, gushing organs and blood everywhere.
The probability indicator flashed another warning.
Radar and visuals showed that the twenty falling bio-beasts lacked weapons or breaching bombs.
Slam, slam, slam, they dropped atop him. But they didn’t go splat.
Warning!—that from the probability indicator.
Servos in the bio-beasts whined. The Mark 2042 could hear them. A few of them had broken limbs or hands, but now they started crawling over him.
All forty beehives exploded shrapnel, lifting and killing fifteen of them.
An electrical grid had been installed onto him twelve days ago. He charged it with power. ZAP!
Two of them actually screamed.
