But Grey had been emphatic in his warning — the humanistic logic models were still very much experimental. The emotive patterning they inserted could work as hoped and provide independent as well as team-based thinking, or it could retain vestiges of the baser types of human emotions, such as pride, envy, hate, and even love and anger. It would feed off Alex’s psychology patterns — he would be its supercharger.
Hammerson had joked about his pair of Colt 1873 single action handguns at home, and how he loved them and was sure they loved him back. Grey didn’t pick up on the joke and had sounded anxious, bordering on panicked.
Hammerson smiled grimly, as he recalled the scientist’s agitation.
“Jack, the technology is more than just a weapon. It could think for itself. It might simply decide to become overly protective, and stop Hunter doing what he needed to do. It might even turn on him.”
Hammerson could picture the small scientist wringing his hands, as he spoke.
“The risks are enormous,” Grey had said.
“Everything we do has risks. Even not acting has its risks,” Hammerson had responded softly.
“We just aren’t ready to…”
“Stop talking now, Walter. Generate the neural link to Captain Hunter, and lock it in, that’s an order.” Hammerson sighed. “You wanted a field test? So now you’re going to get one. If it works, my team might just be given a lifeline. And if it doesn’t, then it’ll be just another piece of shit to add to the great steaming pile the mission has turned into.” Hammerson’s voice became rock hard. “And my team will all be dead. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do. Good luck, sir,” Grey had said. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”
“Will do.” Hammerson closed out the call.
Now he was focused on the screen, counting down way too fast — there would be a vacuum bomb burn on the crater top, now in t-minus 183 minutes, just over three hours. There’d be nothing left in that crater but ash.
The HAWC data squirt was translated onto his screen. He looked at the time stamp and grunted — it was good the Arcadian had anticipated the drop, but he didn’t know they were already executing it.
The problem was, Alex had wanted an extra hour, that they didn’t have, and what they had left was already counting down. Minutes and seconds counted in this job. Hammerson just prayed his care package wasn’t going to arrive too late to make a difference.
Goddamnit, his HAWCs better be out by then.
CHAPTER 34
“Weapons check,” Alex ordered, and Sam, Casey, and Monroe started to quickly run their eyes and hands over their gear. Morag was mesmerized as it was done almost in unison, their fingers deftly checking triggers, shielding, guards, and ammunition. In another few seconds, they were done.
Morag felt a fluttering in her stomach at the thought of going outside. She eased her head around to gaze out the Orlando’s window. It was now impenetrable out there. Condensation ran down the glass, and from time to time they’d all seen small things flit past, like tiny birds, but with carapace-covered bodies and wings that beat faster than the eye could follow.
Outside against the skin of the space shuttle it sounded like hail hitting a tin roof, as things plinked against the fuselage. As Morag stared, a dot came out of the mist, grew to the size of a fist and then slammed onto the window with a solid thunk, and stuck there.
“What the hell?” She raised an arm to point.
The group followed her gaze. The thing on the window had a long body with dozens of legs. One end had long, red pincers that tried their luck against the hard glass, and at its other end there was a wicked-looking glistening spike. Its wings continued to flutter, and after a moment it turned its head so a single bulbous eye could regard the people inside.
“Holy crap, man. Check this out,” Monroe said.
“That might just be the source of the buzzing we could hear,” Sam said and narrowed his eyes at the thing.
“Jeee-zuz. Bet it’s a stinger.” Monroe leaned toward it and then knocked against the glass with a knuckle.
The thing responded by lifting its tail and jabbing it down where the HAWC’s knuckle had been.
“Told ya.” He yanked his hand back, but the thing kept drilling down with its tail.
“Don’t worry, nothing is getting through that — the fused silica outer panes can withstand micrometeorite strike and reentry temperatures.” Russell Burrows carefully made his way toward the bug on the cockpit window. “If it can keep out the vacuum of space, we can certainly keep out a big, ugly insect.” Russell leaned closer to peer at the thing, and it responded by once again jabbing its barb at him.
“Amazing. Insectoid, but also has some arachnoid features. And I can see what looks like fur on its body.”
Another bug smacked violently onto the glass, and it caused Russell to instinctively jerk his head back. “Whoa.” He turned and chuckled nervously.
Morag heard Alex make a deep sound in his chest and walk toward Sam Reid, where the pair then engaged in a quiet conversation. She turned back to the group and hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold. She didn’t want to go back out there, but also knew that though outside it might mean death, staying inside meant certain death.
Anne sat staring at the bulkhead door, her eyes glazed over, and Morag tried to imagine what the NASA woman was thinking — perhaps she was wondering if the man she loved was somehow still trapped inside the mind of the monstrous thing that lumbered about outside, or whether he was already dead and now fully replaced by the beast.
A third bug thudded against the window, and Russell tilted his head. “Well, well, seems they’re attracted by something.”
“Yeah, us,” Casey snorted. “Hey, Monroe, got any bug spray?”
Monroe held up his RG3. “Yep, my universal fly swatter.”
She bumped knuckles. “I heard that.”
“Stop worrying, they’re not getting in.” Russell turned away from the window.
“That’s true, Russell. But we’re not staying inside here, are we?” Morag gave him a lopsided grin.
“This is not a good idea.” Russell spoke through gritted teeth. “We haven’t got a chance.”
“Focus,” Alex demanded. “Form up.”
On Alex’s command, the HAWCs fell in on either side of the door. There was no fear in their faces, just an eagerness to engage and win against any adversary.
Another bug smacked onto the glass and regarded them hungrily. Then another, until the window was becoming crowded with bristling legs, working mandibles, and jabbing spikes. The sound of them trying to drill their stings into the glass was beginning to sound like the clack of a furious typewriter. The already weak outside light was beginning to be shut out, making it gloomy in the cockpit.
Morag drew in a deep breath to try to calm herself, but now she felt physically ill.
“Priority one, we need to be above this atmosphere line before we run out of breathable air or this place is turned to ash — four hours. Not four hours and five minutes, or even four hours and five seconds, but four hours.” Alex waited until each of them nodded before going on.
He turned to his remaining HAWCs. “Soldiers, we need to be over the rim at time of detonation — not at the rim, or on the edge of the rim, but over it. The crater wall even at the top is about fifty feet of solid granite and will contain the blast and hopefully vent the heat and force upwards. Even the heat discharge will be deadly if we’re too close.”