Gridlinked

'Nothing is more important than runcibles to her,' Thorn observed, as he pulled up a chair.

'Very shortsighted of her,' replied Cormac. Then he said, 'Hubris, prepare for a major breach. Get everyone out of the areas on the route of Dragon's previous attack, then close all blast and security doors. Stand by with seals and foam.'

'Initiated.'

Cormac looked at Blegg and Thorn. 'Patience,' he said.

'Oh, I've always had that,' said Blegg. Thorn just appeared uncomfortable.

'Attempts to open a communication channel have ceased,' said Hubris. 'Dragon accelerating.'

'Pull away in close orbit. That should slow it,' said Cormac.

'Secure for impact. Secure for impact. All personnel to emergency modules.'

Cormac closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply and evenly, his brow beaded with sweat. The three of them could feel the vibration through Hubris as it accelerated away, and the slight pull to one side as the ship's gravity did not quite compensate for the vector of its course.

'Impact in three minutes twenty seconds. Mark… Impact in three minutes ten seconds. Mark.'

At that moment Mika entered Downlink Com. Cormac watched her frantically trying to read the situation, and lick her lips as she prepared herself for a question. He glanced past her to the door which had a flashing yellow-and-black-striped light above it.

'I see you got through just before the main doors closed,' he observed.

She nodded, staring at him.

'We'd best get ready then,' he said.

They locked down all the chairs in Com and any instruments that were loose. Then they went through to the emergency module; a circular room with twenty acceleration couches secured all round. This module, like many others scattered throughout the ship, contained its own separate life-support, and theoretically could withstand the break-up of the entire ship. The four of them lay down on couches and strapped themselves in.

'Impact in one minute ten seconds. Mark… Impact in one minute. Mark.'

It was not particularly reassuring to see the piped-in image of Dragon's all-too-rapid approach. It grew on the screen until they could see the pseudopods breaking from its surface.

'Impact imminent! Impact imminent!'

It was not as bad as the first time. The ship boomed, but did not seem to be breaking. Cormac still wondered how many people he might have killed. As the shuddering stilled, he unstrapped himself and exited the emergency module.

'Unauthorised information access at external port. I am isolating all systems… Shuttle-bay doors opening.'

'It knows the ship better this time,' said Mika.

Cormac glanced at her, then turned back to watch the pseudopods flooding into the shuttle bay, and squirming across the floor to the drop-shaft.

'Intruder-defence systems online.'

'Take them offline until my order,' said Cormac.

'Unauthorized access… all consoles and ports closed down in shutde-bay area. Stress readings at drop-shaft doors.'

They watched, as for the second time, the safety doors buckled and crashed into the drop-shaft, and the pseudopods flooded down it.

'Vocal communication from Dragon.'

'No reply, but let's hear it,' said Cormac.

'Cormac! Cormac!' screamed the speaker. Only then did Cormac see the pterosaur head amongst the pseudopods. It rose out of them and came up against the camera.

'Cormac!' it screamed again, spraying the lens with milky saliva.

'Sounds pissed off,' said Thorn.

'Yes, and scared,' said Cormac.

Mika looked at him sharply, then returned her attention to the screen.

'Give me what is mine!' shrieked Dragon.

'Wants the dracoman,' said Mika.

'Do you wish Isolation unsealed?' asked Hubris.

'No, keep it sealed. If it wants its dracoman, then it'll have to take the whole chamber.'

'There will be extreme damage to the interior of the ship.'

The Dragon head appeared next in Isolation. 'Open! Open!' it shrieked.

Cormac began to rattle his fingers on the console. He was humming a tune and chewing his lip at the same time. After a moment he said, 'Then prepare for extreme damage to the interior of the ship… Tell me, what could the intruder-defence systems do now?'

'Specific nerve gases, low-intensity lasers, EM pulse-guns, evacuation of sealed areas—'

'Use low-intensity lasers and the EM guns.'

'Beton-twelve nerve gas—'

'Just!… as I said.'

Over the intercom they heard the high-speed crackling of the pulse-guns. Pseudopods began to fly apart and become charcoaled with black lines; but where one pseudopod was destroyed, another took its place. The ship convulsed.

'Charge up proton guns.'

'Charging. Stress readings all round Isolation Chamber One. Stress reading along all corridors to drop-shaft. Stress readings in drop-shaft.'

The screen showed walls and struts being torn away in Isolation, wads of insulation falling, pipes bursting and snaking through the air on jets of vapour, then it showed walls buckling and being pushed back into the corridors. One scene flickered out as a camera was destroyed. The screen then showed the whole of Isolation Chamber One peeled down to its armour, and being shifted by the pseudopods.

'Cormac! Cormac!' screamed the Dragon head.

'Target that head.'

The head was suddenly latticed with black lines, and then EM pulses began to blow pieces of it away. It shrieked and drew back out of Isolation. The chamber was dragged along after it, tearing walls, folding out ceilings. Sparks rained down, and cameras went out one after another.

'Isolation chamber in drop-shaft. Stress readings at drop-shaft doors. Ventilation seals breached, closing secondary seals.'

Just then there came into the room a smell of burning flesh and metal, and another smell - so strong it was almost a taste - of cloves.

'How long until proton guns enable?'

'Forty seconds. Mark.'

Suddenly the scene revealed was of the shuttle bay. The mutilated Dragon came on-camera. Its jaws opened and slammed forwards. The camera went out.

'Not too happy, I would say,' said Thorn.

'General idea,' muttered Blegg.

'Dragon has isolation chamber. Detaching. Flooding drop-shaft with crash-foam. Massive air loss. Crash-foam not holding. Closing shuttle-bay doors.'

The screen showed the shuttle bay from another angle. The bay doors were labouring to close against a hailstorm of crash-foam and wreckage. The debris was hurtling out into the vacuum.

'Pull away, maximum acceleration. Fire proton guns when ready.'

Dragon receded from the doors. A purple flash ignited space and a charred hole fifty metres across appeared in its scaled hide. Cormac watched for a moment, then removed a black cylinder-section from his pocket, with a miniconsole on it. He poised his finger over a flashing touch-plate.

'That's a—' began Thorn.

'Remote detonator, yes,' said Cormac impatiently, then asked, 'Distance, Hubris}'

'One kilometre. Mark. One and one half kilometres…'

The proton guns fired again, but this time the purple flare was not on Dragon's surface. It ignited over an invisible membrane and did no damage.

'Dragon preparing to return fire.'

They could all see the ripples crossing its surface.

'Distance?'

'Three kilometres. Mark. Four and a half. Mark. Six kilo—Fire imminent! Fire imminent!'

Cormac pressed his finger down. Everything under that membrane turned to light. The membrane broke and the screens whited out. Hubris bucked and they were flung to the floor.

Epilogue

The bleak sun inched above the horizon and a new day fell across the ruination that surrounded the complex. Above the corroded-bronze sky Samarkand was gaining yet another feature; a spreading orbital cloud of frozen gobbets of flesh, pieces of bone and metal… Dragon remains. Hubris, poised geostationary above the complex, watched this cloud spread with an aesthetic appreciation only available to AIs having the full spectrum of senses it possessed. With another fraction of its sensorium it listened in through the computer of the departing mini-shuttle. In a completely disconnected way it knew that it too was being used in this way, by a mind as many orders of magnitude greater than it, than it was of the computer.