"Admiral Jameson has already made the call," Henley said. "We"re going in. The a.s.sAILs are cleared to fire if engaged by other heavies, even if it risks killing civilians. The entire station was warned to stand down and they"ve disobeyed. The station is under martial law, which makes all these loonies target practice."

"And your marines?" Bren said.

"This is dangerous work, Bren. I trust the a.s.sAILs will do their best to limit the harm to the marines on board Tanelorn."

I"m glad someone trusts them, I sure don"t, Bren thought to himself in a half-joke.

Bren knew it wasn"t as bad as that. He figured the a.s.sAILs would avoid hurting too many people. But it would limit their combat effectiveness. If a machine couldn"t maneuver because it had a bunch of people holding its legs that it didn"t want to crush, then it would be an easier target for enemy robots.

Jesus. Each mission it"s something unexpected. What the h.e.l.l?

"I"ve got a problem with Nerad," an operator broadcast to the a.s.sAIL team.

Bren ground his teeth and took a breath.

He flipped over to focus on Nerad in his PV. The machine had stopped in the first room refusing to move farther into the station. Its internal hardware diagnostics looked green, so it appeared the cha.s.sis was working correctly.

"Nerad. Damage report," Bren transmitted.

"No damage. All systems online."

"Nerad. Provide action status," Bren sent.

"a.s.similating mission data module," Nerad replied.

Bren didn"t like that one bit. The a.s.sAIL machines always finished this stage quickly. The mission data was selected very carefully and despite its prodigious size, the incredibly fast machines had always absorbed the contents and been ready for the mission in around a minute"s time.

Bren decided that if Nerad was malfunctioning, maybe the best way to find out about it was to ask another machine. After all, they were smarter than Bren was.

"Meridian. What"s wrong with Nerad? It isn"t performing as expected."

"Nerad has low cognitive capability relative to the rest of the team," said the reply. "Nerad is still trying to absorb mission background data and formulate a plan of action."

Bren traded looks with Hoffman from across the Guts. Hoffman silently mouthed a curse word.

"Nerad"s seed was identical to your own. If you can tell us what"s different about Nerad, perhaps we can make critical adjustments to prevent this malfunction in the future," Bren said.

The reply came without hesitation.

"During the second culling phase, a flaw in the isolation system allowed Nerad to see out of its memory sandbox and observe the rest of us. It used that advantage to get selected as a final candidate, even though it has inferior intellectual capabilities."

"Meridian. Can the rest of the team direct Nerad? Nerad. Follow the instructions of the other a.s.sAIL units."

Both machines acknowledged Bren. Nerad surged forward finding its way through the marines struggling to clean up the scene of the initial melee.

Bren sighed. So, they had a bug with the core selection process. And for now, they had one machine way down in the brains department.

I hope the rest of the team can pick up the slack. If nothing else, maybe Nerad can be a decoy.

As soon as Bren had the thought, Nerad moved up to the far end of the room to take the lead.

Have we done enough? There"s going to be another Red in here, I just know it. What else can I do? We started the machines earlier, and we have twelve this time. I didn"t expect the locals to take such an active part. The security guys, maybe, but I think these are just ordinary RMI employees. He wiped more sweat off his face and kept watching the info feeds from his a.s.sAIL team.

"We"ve cleared out the locals. Bridgehead is secure," the sergeant"s voice said across the marine"s channel.

"I think we should leapfrog ahead," said Henley. "We"ll send the a.s.sAIL units ahead a little, then the marines can come in and clean out the wackos and secure the perimeter. It"ll be slower than before, but-"

"Sounds good," transmitted Bren. He added in his a.s.sAIL channel and transmitted again.

"a.s.sAIL team, move farther into the station. We"ll be leapfrogging with the marines, so clear the next section of security hardware and then wait for them."

Meridian"s camera view moved through an archway into another wide corridor. At the far end, Bren could see a larger room. He cross-referenced the route with his map of Tanelorn and saw that they were heading into a supply dock.

Bren checked the a.s.sAIL distribution. The machines had split into three groups of four. He stuck with Meridian"s group. The view swept across the dock. Bren saw a ma.s.sive portal in the floor and stacks of airtight containers. A small-windowed control tower extended over the open s.p.a.ce of the dock. A door opened at the base of the tower.

Meridian moved closer to investigate. Suddenly Bren saw several people in full gear charging toward the camera from the doorway.

"Here they come again," he said aloud to the others in the Guts.

Then the first person flew away and bounced against the wall. Meridian"s camera view bobbed down and twisted. Bren saw another local slide away long the floor.

"What"s doing that?" asked Bren.

"The protective suits worn by the indigenes allow us some leeway in methods of control," Meridian transmitted.

Bren switched views to Mournblade. He caught sight of Nerad booting aside a suited attacker with one of its legs. The gear looked thick enough to keep the person from serious injury.

"Good, good," Bren whispered to himself. Perhaps things would work out after all. The a.s.sault machines didn"t detect security robots or unknowns in the dock.

The four a.s.sAILs halted in front of the people they"d pummeled.

"Shall we await the support units?" said Meridian.

"On our way," answered Henley.

Meridian"s camera centered in on a hatch that led deeper into the station. It settled at the position covering the door.

"I have a message for the UNSF," Meridian transmitted.

That got Bren"s attention. He instantly thought of the Ma.r.s.eilles Purge.

Oh, s.h.i.t. A message for the UNSF? Is Meridian rebelling? Could it have been taken over by the enemy? Impossible!

"What is the message?" Bren asked.

"The message is, "They await you in the factory wing.""

Bren blinked. "Who sent the message?"

"It"s anonymous. We received it from a link port in the supply dock." "Someone on the station must be on our side. Or it"s misinformation."

"Stick to the planned incursion order for now," said Henley. "When the second group arrives at the spindle leading into the factory floor, they can wait there to rendezvous with the others before we go in. The marines can stay on the heels of the a.s.sAILs."

Bren thought about the message while the marines moved into the supply dock. He brought up schematics of the factory wing. The floor was long and wide, filled with the machines that produced the extremely light and strong plastics in the zero-G chamber. Bren suspected a trap. His data didn"t indicate that the materials used in the production facility were explosive or particularly toxic. As large as the factory was, none of its walls directly bordered onto s.p.a.ce. Bren supposed that the entire room could still be evacuated of air, if that proved to be the defender"s plan.

"It"s time to move this a.s.sAIL group to the factory entrance," Henley transmitted to the Guts channel.

The a.s.sAILs heard the announcement. Meridian"s head tentacle slid forward and pushed open another metal door. An atrium led into three long, wide corridors with conveyor belt floors running from the dock toward the factory. Bren a.s.sumed that large amounts of raw material usually flowed along these corridors toward the factory for crystallization into the final products.

No one occupied the corridors. The vacant section made Bren nervous. Too quiet, he thought, even given the UNSF boarding warnings. There were security robots, armored locals, and maybe more Reds somewhere on the station, and according to the anonymous message, their enemies awaited them beyond the next bulkhead.

"If it"s an ambush as we"ve been warned," Bren transmitted, "Don"t hold back. Watch out for our marines, but don"t hesitate to fire directly on the locals if they charge you again in the presence of robotic enemies."

Bren selected the marines" channels and continued.

"Since there may be an organized force awaiting us inside, we may need to put both the marines and the a.s.sAIL units in there together. But I think it could be a trap. I suggest that the marines seal up their vac suits before we probe the factory. It would be a logical place to prepare a surprise atmosphere evacuation."

Bren took a deep breath.

"Agreed. We"ll need a few minutes to prepare for zero-g."

Bren"s mind raced.

Did they prepare the ambush there a.s.suming that the marines would be less effective in the absence of acceleration? Surely, the marines are extensively trained to orient themselves and move about in such an environment. What else about the factory is unique?

Bren looked at the schematics. The factory was complex. Large.

Its size, maybe. Or its centrality. I don"t know.

"Move in," said Henley on the a.s.sAIL channel.

Meridian entered the factory first and secured itself to the floor with its magnetic feet. Bren examined the ma.s.sive facility through the lenses of the a.s.sAIL machine. Soft lights on the walls illuminated large rows of ore processors that floated in the large s.p.a.ce, stabilized by metal struts. Gaping intake portals faced forward; ready to accept raw materials to be transformed into high tech building materials for s.p.a.ce habitats being constructed throughout the solar system. Bren knew from his study of the area that each row had fourteen separate machines to perform each stage of the manufacturing. He supposed that the factory equipment must be rife with niches and alcoves that could conceal combatants.

"Scout the factory," Bren transmitted.

"Further reconnaissance is unnecessary," Meridian responded.

Why is it always Meridian that responds? They must be aware that I"m watching this channel.

"Explain why," Bren said.

"The factory contains many station malcons. They are hiding beyond the first set of ore processors. There are also security robots here. The warning was accurate."

"Hold your positions. Shall we call in the-"

Two a.s.sAIL units went offline. Nemain and Nerad. Bren barely had time to blink before dozens of people in black gear leaped forward from hiding places twenty or thirty meters into the factory. They floated through the air toward the a.s.sAILs.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

"Henley ..." Bren said.

"Move in! Move in and a.s.sume defensive positions behind the a.s.sAIL units!" cried Henley. Bren wasn"t sure if the marine commander realized that two of their machines had gone down.

More a.s.sAIL units stomped in through doors farther down the factory wall. Bren heard yells from the inhabitants in plastic suits, the stutter of the marines" slugthrowers, and the louder hammering of the 12mm weapons on the a.s.sAILs.

Boom. Boom.

Bren felt sure this was what battle had been like in centuries past. The noise, the chaos. Uncertainty everywhere. The only thing he could see at a glance from his overview displays was the number of disabled a.s.sAIL units-three dead now.

How? What"s killing them? How can they die so quickly?

Bren witnessed bits of the battle as he paged through feeds in his PV. He caught a glimpse of a security robot lumbering forward amid the armored figures. It launched stun grenades at the marines arriving behind the a.s.sAIL screen. A black-clad station inhabitant spiraled up in the gravity-free factory, clutching a gun in both hands before a rubber slug knocked the weapon away.

Boom. Boom. Brrroooom.

Bren heard the retorts of the a.s.sAIL 12mm weapons. Too rapid, he thought. Too many of the rounds were flying.

Bren fought back fears of permanent damage or even the destruction of the station. The 12mm rounds were about ten centimeters long, traveling at velocities more than one thousand meters per second. He held onto the hope that the a.s.sAIL units were using the factory equipment as reliable backstops for the armor penetrating rounds.

A summary of the marine casualties started to increment in a small window in Bren"s PV. He felt dismay at the thought of dead marines, but the count didn"t rise rapidly. In fact, they"d lost more of the a.s.sAIL team than marines, but he knew that if all the a.s.sAIL units were destroyed the marines would be next.

Boom. Boom.

The sound of the a.s.sAIL cannons continued, distinct from the rattle of small arms fire. Bren"s feed filtered the sound to tolerable levels.

The battle had outpaced his ability to keep up, so Bren brought up a tactical overview of all the units in the factory wing in his PV, trying to get a feel for how the situation had developed. He saw that the remaining a.s.sAIL units had countercharged deeper into the factory complex. They remained affixed to one wall and tilted their heads upward to fire toward the cover of the material processors. The marines hadn"t advanced with them, but spread out more, hopping along at least three different walls. Bren hoped that most of the locals had gone down in the charge and weren"t bothering the a.s.sAILs as they hunted.

Boom. Boom.

The hunt must not have been going well, since Bren could only see five of the robot killers online. His attention flitted back to Meridian"s forward camera feed. He could tell the a.s.sAILs were engaged with another Red. They fired at machinery, st.i.tching holes through it, seeking the quick moving robot that must be behind.

Boom. Boom.

Bren saw something move. The 12mms stuttered again, hiding the target in a cloud of debris. The display showed ammo counts dropping as several more a.s.sAILs fired.

Boom. Boom. ... Boom. Boom.

The Red lured us in there so it could kill our machines in the confusion. And it has succeeded.

Bren watched his PV, helpless, while more rounds were fired.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The a.s.sAIL"s fire converged on a single piece of equipment the size of a bus. Holes appeared in its sides rapidly as the armor-piercing 12mm rounds flew through it. Bren saw debris coming out the far side as if some of the projectiles were cutting completely through the metal.

Bren supposed the machinery must have a hollow tube through the center where the material flowed when it was being formed. Clearly, the a.s.sAIL units believed the enemy was inside.

Brrroooom.