and low-gravity refining techniques. It seemed as if the entire complex was on eternal fast forward.
Burns led us through a canyon of sealed machinery, past a river of pulverized rock, and out into a valley of man-made lava. It moved snakelike through the artificial gullies provided for its use and caused the atmosphere to shimmer with radiated heat. Burns spent a lot of time waving at workers who didn’t wave back.
Then the vast bay was behind us, and the deck vibrated in sympathy to the nearest engine room. We entered an alcove. It was empty except for the layer of soil that covered everything and an empty cable spool. “This is as far as I go,” Burns said happily. “The colonel owns sixty thousand shares of company stock. He can live anywhere he wants and chose this. Nobody knows why. Be careful, and watch for snakes.”
“Snakes?” What the hell did that mean? I looked to see if he was kidding, but the visor obstructed his face. Sasha moved towards the stairs and I hurried to get there first. The stairs turned in on themselves and trembled under our weight. Darkness engulfed us.
Then, just as I fumbled with my helmet light, a pair of ruby-red eyes appeared. They blinked and moved closer. I reached for a weapon that wasn’t there and found the switch. A cone of hard, white light located the snake and pinned it in place. The creature had a triangular head, flared hood, and long, sinuous body. It looked like a snake but was actually robotic. Its mouth opened, fangs gleamed, and a man spoke in my helmet.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Maxon…welcome to Mars.” Things happened in my head. Dreams flickered, voices spoke, and pain lanced the center of my brain. The voice spoke again. “Follow Kaa. He’ll bring you to my quarters.”
I looked at Sasha. She shrugged. We followed the snake. Light gleamed off metallic scales as the robo-serpent turned and slithered downwards. It wove in and out of the rail like a shuttle on a loom. I stayed well back, taking my time and feeling my way. A pair of luminescent eyes peered down from a ledge, blinked, and disappeared. Dirt rained down on my helmet.
The stairs ended, and a matrix of crisscrossed laser beams materialized around us. It was part of a security system, and we must have passed the test, because a blastproof door slid open. Kaa reared back, hissed through my helmet speakers, and swayed as we passed. The hatch closed and we found ourselves in a lock. It had been spacious at some point in the past but was now half filled with junk.
A robotic mouse scurried across my boots, squeaked, and scooted under a box of mother boards. The lock cycled open. I looked at Sasha, shrugged, and made my way down the tunnel. There were alcoves to the right and left. All were full.
Whatever else Wamba was, or had been, he was someone with an affinity for junk. Not just any junk, but robotic junk, of every conceivable shape and size. Walking through the passageway was like touring the android equivalent of a meat packing plant. Robotic cadavers were piled every which way, their arms, legs and torsos all akimbo, their long-dead sensors staring blankly from the shadows. One of them sat up, tilted its head to one side, and opened its eyes. The voice grated in my helmet. “Stop. Remove your suits. Leave them here. Have a nice day. Stop. Remove your suits. Leave them here. Have a nice day…”
We did as the cadaver ordered and continued on our way. The tunnel came to an end and opened into a large chamber. It, like the alcoves before it, was nearly filled with robo parts. Only these had been sorted into hundreds of carefully labeled bins and were stored in the racks that lined three of the four walls. An enormous drive gear obscured most of the fourth wall. It moved an inch at a time. The “Lube Here” sign was self-explanatory. Less understandable were the things that hopped, walked, crawled, slid, and flew about the room.
Some, like Kaa, and the mouse I’d had seen earlier, looked like Earth animals. Others, like the foot-high pogo stick that bounced across the deck in front of me, or the gossamer-winged flyer that lit on my shoulder, were entirely fanciful. And there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of them, all moving around the compartment in concert with whatever propulsion system and programing they’d been given.
And at the center of all this movement, on a dais that was part control console and part throne, sat something that made me seem normal by comparison.
It had been human once; evidence of that could be seen in the kinky black hair, the brown, almost black skin, and the eyes that glowed like coals in deeply shadowed sockets.
But the machinery that had been built around it came close to obscuring the thing’s human origins, and it was only through an act of will that I was able to think of it as a “he.” It was, I decided, only right and proper that the one person in the universe who considered himself to be my friend qualified as a freak as well.
He regarded me silently, as if aware of my emotions and waiting for me to deal with them. His head, or what was left of it, was surrounded by a metal cowling. A variety of lenses had been mounted on the sides of the cowling and could be moved by means of servo-controlled arms. His neck, shoulders, and arms were his own, but surgical steel had replaced most of his chest. A metal housing stood in for his hips, and tracks replaced his legs. They whirred and threw up roostertails of reddish soil as he came down the ramp to meet me.
Dozens of small robots hopped, scurried, and jumped out of the way. Something the size and shape of a centipede squeaked and was crushed under Wamba’s tracks. The colonel’s eyes locked onto mine like laser beams, and his grip was strong. His voice was identical to the one that spoke through Kaa. “Damn, you look good. I missed you.”
Suddenly, and much to my surprise, I was overcome by emotion. It was as if something deep inside me recognized the cyborg and felt a kinship for him. I stepped between his tracks, put my arms around his shoulders, and gave him a hug. He hugged me back, and it felt good. Good to be valued, good to be welcome, good to be missed. Even if I couldn’t remember who the hell he was. I released him and took three steps backwards.
Machinery whined as Wamba turned towards Sasha. “Hello, Ms. Casad, and welcome to my humble abode.”
I had never seen the kid look shy, but she did now. “Thank you. It’s nice to be here.”
Wamba smiled. “I doubt that, but it’s nice of you to say so. Now, tell me about the ambush, who staged it, and why.”
I looked at Sasha. She managed to avoid my eyes. It was as if something kept her from talking about what we’d been through. Something she knew and I didn’t. It made me angry, so I started at the beginning and spilled my guts. Wamba listened without comment. Finally, when all the words had been said, he nodded.
“You are, as my daddy liked to say, standing in deep weeds. And, while I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do, I might be able to offer some clues.”
The cyborg paused for a moment and looked me in the eye. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I hung my head in shame. “No, I don’t.”
Machinery whined as his head nodded up and down. “I thought not. You were one of the craziest and most insubordinate officers I ever had the pleasure to command. And you’re, well, different somehow. Changed in ways I can’t quite put a finger on. What do you remember?”
I looked to Sasha for help, but her one good eye was focused on a spot three feet over Wamba’s head. She made no attempt to help or interfere. “Nothing. Nothing prior to my discharge, anyway.”
Wamba nodded as though he had expected as much. “Let me tell you a story. A story about the last time I saw you. We drew a mission, one with lots of hair on it, and were headed for a research station known as T-12. It was right in the middle of the asteroid belt and very well defended. There were three boats in all. We drew straws. You pulled the first, Captain Daw drew the second, and I came last. You led us in…”
My head began to throb, a door creaked open, and the dreams returned. Wamba’s voice droned on, but I was somewhere in the past, living it, feeling it, being it.
The ejection tube worked the way it was supposed to and blasted us away from the ship. Stars whirled, then stabilized as I brought the battle suit under control and oriented myself to the target. It looked like a mountain that had been plucked from the Himalayas and set free in space. Sunlight rippled across the planetoid’s surface as it tumbled end over end. I saw light glint off metal and felt something heavy fall into my stomach. Even the best suits leak heat, and I could damned near feel their missile launchers swivel in my direction. I triggered the command freq and gave the command.
“Go!”
The team arrowed in like sharks in search of fresh meat. I was vaguely aware that Daw and Wamba had cleared their ships and were headed in the same direction. It made damned little difference, though, since we were committed. The Loot would extract us if she lived long enough to do so, or we’d wait for relief. Not a pleasant thought.
A fire requires oxygen, and a battle suit contains damned little thanks to the endless vacuum around it. So the
