Huff had known that there was at least one more of the w wastrels hiding behind the air conditioning unit and took his time. Hunting requires many things, patience being one of them.
There, finally, some movement. Light spilled from above. Not much, but enough. A head, the glint of an eye, and a little bit of nose.Huff applied the pressure gradually, caressed the trigger, and felt the butt kick his shoulder. The bullet left the muzzle at more than eight hundred fifty feet per second, entered through Curtis' eye, and left through the back of his head. The parson would approve.* * *Smoke belched outward, the doors burst open, and a pair of concussion grenades sailed through the opening. They flashed and went bang. Machine gun fire hosed the interior.
Marco and Sparrow charged through the entry, jumped a couple of bodies, saw movement and fired at it.A security officer threw out her arms, crashed into an interior window, and shattered the glaJyro stood naked in front of Pardo's metal shaving mirror, turned, and craved to see his back. There were four pink lines, one for each of the Worgan's claws.The site was hard to reach, and would have been nearly impossible to treat without assistance from the robot, which the prospector had named after the Good Samaritan and called Sam for short.Satisfied with the healing process, the human chose one of his badly soiled jumpsuits, wished he had enough water to wash with, and wondered how he smelled. The answer seemed obvious.Sam, who was oblivious to the prospector's concerns, transformed itself into acrobatic mode, executed a back flip, and sought the praise it was programed to expect. It's linguistic abilities continued to improve. "How about that one, Huwe? Pretty good, huh?""Fabulous", Jyro replied, but bothering to look. Most of the robot's tricks were pretty boring. The machine's real value lay in the company it provided, and the fact
The streams Sam hoped to find were smaller than that, more like threads - thin, almost insubstantial fibers that wound themselves in and around the big stuff, and went along for the ride. That was were the input from millions of "dumb" sensors flowed, where reports from the maintenance robots stuttered along, and where the quarry might be mentioned.The better part of five minutes passed as the robot clung to its electronic perch, Jyro paced back and forth, and the Hoon talked along themselves.Then, just as one of the Hoon's long, wormlike virus hunters flashed past, braked, and rerouted itself back upstream, Sam "heard" what it had been waiting for.Assuming the reports were true, it sounded as if one of the general purpose units had not only assaulted a lesser entity, but confiscated one of its tools.Sam wanted to learn more, and could have learned more, except that the hunter unit had looped through a side circuit, entered the upstream flow, and was on its w
Jyro experienced a sudden inspiration, and allowed the words to flow. "Just as computers have no choice but to conform to parameters established by their basic operating systems, we must follow God's instruction and ensure that others do likewise".The machine gave it some thought. Perhaps there was something it could do. "But why?""Go forth", Jyro said, imagining himself at the head of a million robot army, "and convert your brethren, that they too might know the glory of God".The machine considered the human's words. The concept made sense. If God existed, and sought to have all of its creations function harmoniously, then each and every unit aboard the ship had the right - no, the responsibility - to familiarize itself with the plan and work to further it.Or was that logic fallacious, a product of whatever flaw had caused the malfunction in the first place? What if such beliefs were contrary to its basic programming? A quick check revealed no mention of God
The bedroom was big and ornate. Dimly seen pieces of off-white furniture lurked in the gloom. A single bar of sunlight slipped between the drapes, crossed the carpet, and pointed to the bed.It was a large, well rumpled affair - with plenty of room for three. Governor Sandral Usmos gloried in her nakedness, in the way the two lovers sought to please her, and thought about sex. Or was it power?The male was one of Sandral's aides, he stationed himself between her legs. The girl who was barely out of her early twenties, guided him to the target.Sandral took the man in, selected the rhythm she wanted, and took pleasure from the now.The girl was everywhere, touching, caressing, and fondling.Sandral wasn't sure which she enjoyed the most, the physical pleasure or the knowledge that she had power over them. Somehow the knowledge that the male labored between her thighs because he wanted a promotion added to her pleasure rather than detracting from it.The
But, no matter how emotionally satisfying such a course of action might be, the officer knew he couldn't do it alone. He struggled to keep his voice even."I recommend that we increase our counterinsurgency efforts, put more resources into psychological operations, and attack the Confederacy where it is weak".Sandral raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. "And where, please tell, it's that?""In the Senate", the officer replied bleakly. "Everyone knows that President Rackoon would send a peace keeping force if he had the support. Thanks to our allies, he doesn't. But for how long? What if Marcus Doug Douglas decides to renter politics? He could be more dangerous than a brigade of legionnaires".Governor Sandral felt a sudden surge of interest. "So, what would you suggest?"Luton shrugged uncommittally. "You like politics, go where you can do the most good".Sandral felt her pulse raise. Yes! She loved the senate. A place
The Shem ships dropped out of hyper and swam through the darkness of space. There were planets, six of them, all worthy of investigation. Scouts were dispatched, probes were launched, and samples were taken.The Hoon was busy, very busy, but nowhere near capacity. The Artificial Intelligence had time to make backup copies of itself, plunder the newly discovered star system, and run the fleet, all without missing a beat.The AI also reserved some of it's processing capacity for small, unexpected anomalies, especially those that were interesting and potentially dangerous.This one took the form of a request for information from a unit that didn't need it - a highly unusual occurrence that set off alarms.Curious as to why a machine would do something like that, the Hoon assigned a tiny fraction of itself to the investigation and waited to see what would happen. The first question the robot wanted an answer to was rather basic. "Who created t
By rigging a pack for Alpha, and carrying one on his back as well, the human brought thirty days of rations. The outward bound leg of the trip took four.Once there, Jyro ignored the planet itself, which amounted to little more than a giant slush ball, and ordered the shuttle to keep on going.There was a moment of excitement when the ship headed out into the darkness of space, but his hopes were dashed when the shuttle circled and headed back.The human yelled, pleaded, and argued, all to no avail. While the Hoon didn't care about Jyro, it did value the spaceship, and saw no reason to part with it.The prospector was on a leash, a rather long leash, but a leash nevertheless. * * * Because Herbert was self aware, it lacked the means to shut itself down, and had no choice but to endure the long, non-productive wait. The situation was made more frustrating by the fact that humans had programmed the Artificial Intelligence to be
The Terminator's wardroom was empty for the moment, which allowed Sophie to slip inside and admire the breathtaking view. The planet Byron hung huge against the blackness of space. With the exception of the poles, most of its surface was brown. It had very little water, and what there was flowed deep below the surface through veins in the volcanic rock.And it was there, protected from the sun's wicked rays, that the great worms spun their gossamer cocoons, "sang" their epic love songs, and manufactured their optically switched computers for which they were so justifiably famous.Among the businesses that went together to comprise Doug Douglas Enterprises was a well known "glass house", as chip based computer companies were known.That being the case, Sophie had gone to some lengths to educate herself where related technologies were concerned. Rather than create conventional computers, in which electrons follow pathways etched into tiny silicon chips
Doug Douglas, already stunned by the magnitude of what was almost certainly coming their way, felt a terrible sense of hopelessness as the Thraki politician described how her race planned to sacrifice the Confederacy forces to the Shem and then, if convenient, turn and destroy them.But only if they fell for it. It was the Sector's hope that once the Confederacy knew about the Shem, they would force the Armada to resume its nomadic ways - something that would make Sector 14 and the rest of her party very happy.Doug Douglas listened, nodded, and asked the obvious question. "It's my understanding that you have approximately five thousand ships, all under Facer control. In addition to that, your race fortified one of our planets. How would we force the Armada to leave?"The Thraki hoped there would be a way, but wasn't sure what it would be.The human looked at the Dodvalian. Understanding jumped the gap. Nothing was safe. Everything was at risk. Death roamed the stars, an
Marcus Doug Douglas stepped out of his cabin, paused to ensure that the hatch was locked, and stepped into traffic. It was brisk and carried him along.Earth, and the restoration of a legal government, were yesterday's news aboard the Unioncity, where most sentients were focused on both the problem and opportunities posed by the newly arrived Thraki.Many of the passersby recognized Doug Douglas and said hello. His elevation from historical curiosity cum lobbyist to planetary governor had raised his status from the C list to the B list, which he shared with other notable but nonvoting politicos.There was a stir ahead, and traffic parted to allow someone through. Doug Douglas spotted a Midvalian war drone and knew who would follow.Senator Vaano, along with Ambassador Ishimoto-Seven and Sensor Ishimoto-Six, had spent less than an hour in custody prior to being released on their own recognizance.Then, in the wake of vaguely worded apologies from their respec
Usmos bit his lip. Luton had no reason to help, but who could tell? The asshole was an idealist and capable of damned near anything. A positive approach seemed best. "Luton! Thank God. Where are we headed?""To Los Angeles", Luton replied calmly, gazing out the window. "To turn ourselves in"."Turn ourselves in?" Usmos asked incredulously. "Why would we do that? I own a ship. She's small but fast. We can break out, make a run for the galaxy, and live like kings. I have friends out there, lots of them, and we can start over. What do you say?""I say no", Luton answered laconically. "There are rules. We broke them. We have to pay. It's as simple as that"."No!" Usmos shouted. "I won't go!""Really?" Luton inquired. "I think you will. Now shut up. I'm tired".The following minutes seemed to last an eternity, from Usmos' perspective anyway, as the fly form flew toward the sun. Plans stuttered through his brain, dozens of
That was the moment when Shola managed to reestablish contact, ceased partial control of Quinn's mind, and squeezed with all her might.The executive screamed, grabbed his head, and staggered backward. Shola felt the connection snap, sent a warning to Sophie, and tried to recover.Sophie "heard" Shola's voice, rammed her hand into the briefcase, and felt for the hand gun.Quinn threw himself onto her back, felt Sophie collapse, and experienced a sense of triumph. She was his! The bitch was his!The 9mm spilled out onto the floor. Sophie grabbed it and tried to turn. Quinn straddled her, tried for the weapon, and felt the alien counter his efforts.It was then, as Quinn fought for control, that Sophie rolled onto her back. She remembered how he had leered from the bottom of the tanklike cell, the way the water had risen around her shoulders, and squeezed the trigger.The gunshot was loud, louder than Sophie had expecte
Goya gritted teeth he no longer had, demanded full military power from the remaining engine, and chose the only possible crash site - smack dab in the center of the enemy complex. A tower whipped by, tracers up past his nose camera, and the ground rushed to meet him. Goya barely had time to yell "Five to dirt!" before his skids hit, absorbed some of the impact, and failed.The quad took the punishment after that, skidding fifty yards on her armored belly before the fly form hit the side of a building and finally came to a rest.The quad, a cyborg named Oluchi, knew things were bad. Rather than land where they were supposed to, a mile short of the complex, Goya had dumped them right in the middle of the damned thing! It was time to move, and move fast.Oluchi triggered the two way clamps, or tried to, but found they were stuck. No problem - explosive charges had been provided to deal with that very possibility. She "felt" the fly form shudder as 20mm cannon shells pounded th
Never mind the fact that Marco planned to drop in on Luton unannounced - and probably get himself killed. She was supposed to wait till the danger had passed. Why? Because business was a secondary concern - a perception that showed how little he knew. It was money that made the world go round, and, assuming the counter revolution was successful, the economy would be critical. Without commerce there would be no jobs, and without jobs there would be no taxes, and without taxes there would be no government services. Serious issues that couldn't be handled while sitting on her can.A tone sounded, the elevator doors slid open, and a pair of security guards appeared. They wore burgundy jackets, gray slacks, and thick soled shoes. The Zuon logo was embroidered on their pockets. The larger of the two stopped in front of the receptionist, listened to what it said, and turned to stare.Damn! Why couldn't they have been just a little bit slower? The executive opened her briefcase, p
Staff Sergeant Vista shouted, "Ten-hut!" Thousands of legionnaires crashed to attention, and Marco did likewise.Luton's voice boomed through the cavern's PA system. "At ease. We are gathered here to welcome a new commanding officer. Colonel Dooley Marco".An audible gasp was heard, servos whined, and Staff Sergeant Ward bellowed into the mike. "You are at ease! No talking. Corporal, take that soldier's name!"Nobody could tell who the sergeant had yelled at, and it didn't matter. What mattered was discipline, and it was intact.Luton continued, and as he spoke, Marco realized the comments were prerecorded. "Some of you are angry. You were betrayed by society, by the Independent Government, and now by me."Not because I doubt our ability to win, or the quality of our cause, but because we were wrong. If the a Legion is to be our country, it must be a just country, based on the rule of law and dedicated to more than its own survival".Luton paused, his v
Kenny sent a swarm of fly cameras to cover the event and ran it live. Citizens not only saw the video, but made their way to the express way, and lined both sides. Frantic parents responded as well. Many walked beside the road, or tried to, since abutments, on-ramps, and other obstacles made it difficult to do so.Others climbed the fences and ran out onto the express way itself. The militia had been waiting for that. An aircar swept in from the east, braked, and hovered above. Machine guns rattled, the civilians fell like wheat before a scythe, and blood stained the road.Children screamed, batons crackled, and the march continued.* * *Leshi Quinn stood at the center of the pit. The spotlights pinned him in place. The meeting had been called by old man Zuon. "... And so", the industrialist continued, "not only have we failed to see much return from this arrangement, our expenses continue to soar. Please explain".Quinn was standing there, wondering wh
Something, Huvy wasn't sure what, was definitely wrong. But before he could turn the car around, a heavily visored military police man waved the educator over and motioned him out of the car. That was when the nightmare began.The militiaman, a human in this case, examined Huvy's ID, checked his name off a list, and led him onto the school's grounds. A group of smooth faced robots stepped out of the way, and that's when the principal saw the fifty foot lengths of chain, the small ankle bracelets, and realized who they had been made for. The military policeman gestured to the shackles. The tone was casual, as if a matter of routine curiosity. "How many children can we actually expect? About five hundred or so?"Huvy started to answer, thought better of it, and closed his mouth.That's when the military policeman stepped in close, grabbed the front of the educator's shirt, and jerked the smaller man up onto his toes. "Listen, you little shit... which would you prefer? To answ