Network Effect

Target One, flailing on the couch, reached for something that was clearly a weapon, clipped to the suit plate on its thigh. I lunged forward and had its wrist before it could close around the weapon. This turned out to be a trick, because it slapped its free hand on my shoulder and I felt a stab of pain from an energy weapon.

Target One grinned at me with its whole face.

Projectiles hurt but energy weapons just piss me off. I crushed the wrist I was holding and twisted, caught the arm with the energy weapon and snapped it. (The arm. The weapon, a clunky tube-shaped device about ten centimeters long, clattered to the deck.)

Target One shrieked in a combination of rage and disbelief that did not make me any less mad. Target Two, with what I have to say was an entirely misplaced confidence, stepped in and shoved another energy weapon at my chest.

I was moving so fast that later I had to run my video back to analyze my performance. I shoved Target One away and smashed an elbow into Target Two’s face. I tore the energy weapon out of Target Two’s hand along with a few fingers, stabbed the weapon into its chest (it didn’t have a sharp end but I made do) and ripped a large hole. Then I used the weapon, and the large hole, to lift Target Two up and slam it into the upper bulkhead. Three times. Fluid and pieces went everywhere.

That was satisfying. I think I’ll do it again.

But I’d taken too long and it gave Target One time to scramble up and bolt for the hatch.

I started to follow but then registered that Amena was bellowing “SecUnit, look!” at me.

I looked. On the deck, the two remaining targetDrones were flashing awkwardly placed lights; they were powering up. I sent a power down order but the key wasn’t working anymore. I stomped the first one with a boot and then caught the second as it lifted off. I smashed it on a chair, accidentally taking out a display surface in the process. The two casualties were yelling agitatedly at Amena and I had to run back my audio to understand.

Casualty One grabbed Amena’s arm and said, “You have to come with us! We have to get away, try to hide!” This close, though ART’s primary feed still wasn’t working, I could pick up some info from her interface. (Feedname: Eletra, gender: female, and an employee ID from a corporation called Barish-Estranza.)

Casualty Two (Feedname: Ras, gender: male, and another Barish-Estranza employee ID.) “Quick, before they send more drones!” He threw a look at me. I knew that look. “With your SecUnit, we have a chance.”

Amena turned to me. “We should go with them.”

I’d already sent a restart command to my dormant drones. Target One wasn’t hard for them to track since it was wounded, leaking fluid, and shrieking. (You know, if you don’t want to be manually eviscerated with your own energy weapon then maybe you shouldn’t go around killing research transports and antagonizing rogue SecUnits.)

I told Amena, “I have something I need to finish off.”

“There are too many drones,” Eletra insisted. Her gaze went from Amena to me and back again. She wasn’t sure who she had to convince. “You have to come with us!”

Amena took a step toward me, wincing as she put weight on her damaged leg. “Are they right? Can you tell if the drones are coming for us?”

Target One ran through the hatch into the crew meeting area below the bridge.

The crew meeting area where I’d spent most of my time with ART, where we watched World Hoppers. My drones caught video of another hostile already in there (designated Target Three) standing on the steps that led up to the control deck. The hatch into the meeting area started to slide down. Eight of my drones reached the hatch in time to dart under just before it closed.

The humans weren’t wrong about the targetDrones, which weren’t responding to my key commands anymore. (Which meant there was a highly motivated controlling system somewhere that had pushed through a quick security update.) I still had access to the Targets’ feed, and from the encrypted traffic, somebody was telling the targetDrones to do something. Which most likely involved converging on our position to kill us.

I said, “Probably.”

Amena waved her hands impatiently. “Then let’s go!”

I tried cutting off the targetDrones’ control feed. It confused some but others still seemed to be receiving orders. There were obviously parts of this system I couldn’t access. Working within it was like trying to operate a projectile weapon when someone had shot half my fingers off. All the data needed to be converted to other formats, nothing was right, it was a pain in the ass. To take full control of it I was going to have to start at the beginning, with penetration testing.

Exasperated, Ras said, “Just give it an order!”

Amena snapped, “It doesn’t take orders.”