Inquisitor (27 page)

A hand grabbed her hair and wrenched her head up. Angel clutched at it, trying to dislodge the fierce grip, but she couldn’t pry it off. Summer’s grasp was as rigid as steel. She cast about for something—anything—she could use. This close, at Summer’s mercy, without a weapon, there was nothing she could do.

“Look at me, you stupid bitch,” Summer said. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

Angel punched her in the stomach, yelping as pain lanced through her hand. It felt like she’d hit rock. Angel whimpered. Forceful hands pressed her down until her face ground into the platform. She beat at the hands holding her, the arms, Summer’s legs, all to no avail. The pressure on her head increased. Summer was going to crush her skull, and she was unable to stop her.

“You’ve no idea what you’ve unleashed,” Summer said. “You can see the trail of destruction she’s left behind. She has no conscience. That’s why she killed Professor Smith.”

“What are you talking about?” Angel snarled.

“Harry Smith was one of her programmers, but he became concerned about her lack of empathy, her grandiose narcissism. She was faulty. We needed her to protect humanity from the Genus, but the way she is, she’d kill humanity with just as little remorse. When Smith tried to convince us to reboot the project, Charlotte sent out a little program to kill him. Your sweet girl never told you that, did she?”

The knowledge weighed on Angel, an immense pressure that threatened to crush her from the inside, as strong as Summer’s hands on her head. Had she thrown her lot in with an amoral creature? Charlotte had shown she would kill to get what she wanted, and Harry must have been her first. In her way, a thing to be discarded.

Abruptly, Summer yelled in pain and the pressure eased. Angel scrambled to her feet to see the woman wrestling with an automaton. She bled from multiple shallow cuts from its appendages. More came toward her on skittering legs and wheels. Summer brought a gun up and blasted the automaton. It shuddered, then went still.

Angel glanced frantically around for her hand-cannon and spotted it ten meters down the platform. She ran for it, throwing herself into a dive for the last few meters. She grabbed the weapon and twisted to face Summer.

Who wasn’t there.

Angel pointed her hand-cannon at likely cover spots, then realized the automatons were looking upward. She lifted her gaze to see Summer squatting on a girder crossing the vaulted ceiling.

Angel squeezed off a few rounds and grimaced at Summer’s resulting laughter.

Summer’s voice echoed down to her. “You’re on the wrong side, Inquisitor.”

Angel clenched her teeth and switched ammo. One on one, she had no chance, but she couldn’t let Summer reach Charlotte. Without the girl, she had no way of escaping here. And she had to warn humanity about the huge Genevolve facility. That was her mission.

Angel tasked the automatons to unload whatever small ordnance they had at Summer, and ran for the exit. Along the way, she popped off some flea-grenades to delay Summer as best she could. Behind her, weapons spat hot metal and scorching plasma. She didn’t stay to see the result. Just inside the station entry corridor, she closed the doors and blasted the locking mechanism. Every door she came across, she did the same. No doubt Summer anticipated she’d do this and had her own contingency plans, but it was the best Angel could come up with.

She burst through the door of the control room, only to find Charlotte sitting in a corner, eyes shut tight. She was drenched with sweat. Her clothes clung to her body; even her hair was damp.

“What is it?” Angel said. As she spoke, she noticed flashes from explosions and bolts of plasma fire throughout the manufactory area. They’d multiplied since Charlotte had shown her the sensor vision of the battle.

“It’s Summer,” whispered Charlotte. “She has some programs assisting her. They’re—based on me. She’s maintaining pace with me, sometimes surpassing what I can do, even preempting my responses. I’m barely keeping up. I’m pushing myself to my limits, but… we have to get out of here.”

Charlotte’s words chilled Angel to the bone. Even with Charlotte’s intelligence, she was only managing to hold her own.

“I can do it,” Charlotte whispered to herself. “I can.”

Angel couldn’t imagine the enormity of what Charlotte was doing, the sheer volume of data and individual tasks she was manipulating. She squatted down on her haunches next to Charlotte, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I have faith in you.”
Though a fat lot of good that’ll do if she’s overreaching herself.

Charlotte opened her eyes and managed a wan smile.

“You saw what happened in the station?” Angel said.

“Yes. Summer is close by. She brought some automatons with her. But I don’t think she can get to us.”

“We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

“I know. There’s a problem with the manufactory’s design records. They’re open to both of us. Whenever I make a change to our constructs to counter her design, she retaliates with her own change, and vice versa. Half the battle is inside the manufactory’s systems. I’m… holding on.”

Charlotte sounded determined to Angel.
Good
. “Do what you can, but don’t give up.”

A smile flitted across Charlotte’s face again. “I won’t. I’m learning. If I can hold her off for a while longer…”

Angel had the impression Charlotte was gritting her mental teeth and hunkering down to her task. She was advancing, evolving. But they needed to do more than finish with a stalemate.

Angel stood. Her legs and stomach pained her. She was tired. “I’ll scout around and make sure we’re safe.”

•

Angel poked her head over an empty elevator shaft at the same time as an automaton poked its square head out from an opening a few floors down. She heard the whine of a weapon charging and jerked back. There was a crack, and plasma fire roared up the shaft, scorching a black path across the metal walls. One of Summer’s, then. More wouldn’t be far behind. Once they communicated her position, they’d come for her. She wasn’t going to stick her neck out again.

She cursed as she selected one of her remaining flea-grenades and squeezed it off into the shaft. For a few seconds, it leapt from wall to wall with metallic pings, then exploded. Angel looked over the edge to make sure no automatons were climbing the shaft—but there was one. She glanced behind her at the corridor: a long unbroken stretch. If she ran, it would have an easy shot to make. She switched ammo and waited.

A shiny metal claw gripped the edge. It was rough and unfinished, still bearing multicolored heat marks from its manufacture. Both sections of the manufactory the Genevolve and Charlotte controlled were disgorging deadly automatons as fast as they could.

When it appeared over the edge, she shot it. Fire blew out the back of its head, and it warbled and quivered. She screamed and kicked it with all her might. It disappeared, falling back down. Angel lunged forward and looked over the edge.

Sparks flashed as the falling machine scraped against the sides of the shaft, flailing down into the dark.

Angel rushed back the way she’d come. “Charlotte, close and lock that elevator door!”

[It’s done. Angel, I… there’s not much more I can do. Summer is matching our production numbers. Though I’m slowly edging ahead.]

“So, we’re winning?”

[No. There’s ebb and flow. I’m pushing myself, but she’s agile and clever. It’s exhausting.]

Angel cursed again. There weren’t many ways back to the
Endurance
, and the Genevolve had managed to block the ones they’d tried so far. She stopped at the first intersection and consulted the map Charlotte had squirted to her implants. A few options left. Too narrow, too dangerous. There was an immense warehouse area close to the
Endurance
, but early on it had become a torrid battleground between their constructs, two metal waves of opposing tides. But the corridors had become too risky.

“How are you directing them? Is she using the same method? Can you disrupt that?”

[No. We’re both programming them and letting them go. There are too many to direct individually. But… you’ve given me an idea. If I can just get on top of her for a few moments.]

“Charlotte, can you see what’s happening in area 34-GX?”—the warehouse.

[It’s still a mess. We’re holding our own. You’re not thinking… There’s too much crossfire. It’s not pretty.]

Summer was a Genevolve, and she controlled superior AIs. Angel had Charlotte and her own innovation and human randomness. It would have to be enough. “I don’t think we have any choice. Whip us up a tank to get through, will you?” Angel tried to keep her tone light, but her voice trembled. “They don’t have any displacement cannons, do they?”

[I don’t think so. This is a war of attrition. Refinements like that take too much time and resources. Weapons are restricted to projectiles and crude plasma guns—whatever is easiest to throw together.]

“How long until you have a vehicle ready?”

There was a pause. [Ten minutes.]

It would have to do. “Make sure it’s fast.”

[Fast and armored don’t go well together.]

“Do what you can. I’ll meet you there.” Angel jogged toward the warehouse. It was a couple of kilometers away, and the facility’s rapid transportation cars were off-limits as well—their conduits were seething with automatons.

She was almost there, sweating and puffing, when a number of corridors and maintenance conduits on her map turned from green to red.
Damn it
. That meant the Genevolve’s automatons had defeated theirs, and the areas were lost. They were now no-go zones.

Charlotte’s voice buzzed in her ears. [I had to divert resources to make our transport, which left us struggling in some areas. We’ve lost ground. There’s no finesse here; whoever has the greatest numbers will win through.]

“No matter. We’ll be out of here soon.”

[She might guess what we’re doing. In fact, it’s a high probability.]

Angel turned a corner and spied Charlotte ahead. She’d moved from the control room to meet her. The girl was sitting cross-legged next to gigantic doors, behind which was the warehouse. All they had to do was navigate through a few kilometers of raging automatons and they’d be safe.

Charlotte stood when she saw Angel and walked toward her. She was carrying a gun, so small it looked like a toy.

“Where’s our transport?” Angel said, all business. She just wanted to be done with this place.

“It’s too big for these corridors. It’s being delivered with another batch of constructs for the warehouse battle. They’re piling up. The manufactory can put it in a supply lift close by, but it’s inside the warehouse.”

“How close?”

“A hundred meters.”

Damn it
. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

“Just open the door.”

Inside, the floor seethed like a mound of metal cockroaches. Spreading out from their viewpoint, the automatons moved to their left, while far on the other side they moved to the right—the Genevolve’s constructs. In the middle, where the two sides met, was a lifted concentration of tortured metal, like tectonic plates grinding together. Gouts of flame erupted along the line, and yellow and orange sparks shot upward and outward. Projectile shrapnel and construct parts filled the air like a swarm of flies. There was a smell of burning and oil and chemicals, and the constant screech of metal scraping against metal. A ghastly red light lit the scene, as if it were straight from hell. The ceiling was pocked with craters and scorched scars. It was a battlefield any human would do best to avoid, and Angel planned to.

“Come on, Angel!”

A path opened between the automatons before them, and Charlotte stepped into it. She held a hand out for Angel to take.

They ran through the press of metal, oil and barely breathable smoke-laden air. Behind them, the constructs quickly filled the gap. Any weakness in the line would be instantly exploited. Jagged and mismatched machines flashed past in a blur. Before Angel knew it, they were at another wall, and an aperture opened. Inside was a supply cradle, holding the ugliest vehicle Angel had ever seen. It resembled a hulking beast assembled with hastily welded-together metal plates; a cast-iron behemoth with a wedge-plow nose. It sat on giant solid rubber tires. Atop the monstrosity was a triple-barreled cannon mounted on a turret.

It’ll do. It’ll have to.

The beast rolled out with the sound of groaning metal, steam pouring from underneath. A door opened, and Charlotte ducked inside. Angel followed.

A dull red glow illuminated the interior, which consisted of a space two meters to a side. Netting covered the walls; there were no seats. Angel found she could access the vehicle’s systems and linked to the external sensors and cameras. Images flooded her implants. The battle was still raging, projectiles filling the air, humming like swarms of bees. The front line was rising from the floor as the automatons climbed over the bodies of the fallen, torn and shredded metal, and lifeless hulls.

Charlotte threaded an arm through the webbing and held on tight. “I’m sorry,” she said. “There wasn’t time for anything else.”

Angel nodded and secured herself to the straps, hooking her feet through the bottom layer. If they were targeted, and it was probable they would be, then they were in for a rough ride. Her body shook as the vehicle jolted and lurched, moving forward.

“Angel!”

At Charlotte’s frantic cry, Angel scanned the warehouse. A huge side door had opened, and through it rolled a juggernaut, of a similar design to theirs, except at least twice as large. It didn’t have their turret, but plasma cannons jutted from its exterior.

“Ha!” shouted Charlotte. “It worked!”

“What?”

“I designed three hundred and twenty-seven of these; only one had any major differences.”

“She’s taken one of your designs and upscaled it, but we’ve an edge on her?”

Charlotte grinned fiercely. “Yes. Maybe. I’ve—”

Without warning, they lurched to one side. Angel strained against the netting. Rends and screeches of tortured and twisted metal filled the air. Constructs flew to either flank, launched away by their wedge snowplow-shaped front end. The path their machines were opening up for them was happening too slowly; they were plowing through their own constructs.