Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’ve dug through Thorn’s past matches like you asked,” Cephalie said from Isaac’s shoulder as he and Susan entered their v-wing bin. The crate containing the combat frame had been delivered by SysPol corvette and was now stowed in the v-wing’s elongated main body.
“What did you find?” Isaac asked.
“About the only thing you can expect is the unexpected. He’s famous for switching between different synthoids for each match, with little in the way of consistency in combat style or weaponry.”
“Improv it is, then,” Susan said with a shrug. “Should be fun.”
Isaac palmed the release on the side of the v-wing, and prog-steel split open to reveal the storage crate. Susan entered her access code, and the crate’s malmetal plating shifted to either side.
The combat frame stood tall inside the cramped space, a lithe war machine ready for battle.
“How does this work, exactly?” Isaac asked.
“I’ll need you to remove my connectome case from my spine and install it in the combat frame.” She tapped an open slot halfway down the combat frame’s back. “It fits in right here. The frame will activate automatically after that, and I’ll have complete control.”
“And if it doesn’t switch on?”
“It will.”
“But if it doesn’t?”
“Then pull the case out and put me back in my general purpose synthoid. Easy as that.”
“Okay. Got it.”
She removed a knife from the crate’s back wall and handed it to him, grip first.
“What’s this for?” Isaac asked, taking hold the knife.
“You’ll need to cut through the epidermis to reach my case.”
“The Admin makes people knife you in the back to transfer your connectome?” Isaac asked. “Who designed this system and what were they thinking?”
“It is what it is,” Susan said with indifference.
“I can handle the transfer with the LENS, if you like,” Cephalie offered.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Susan said. “No offense, but I’d prefer it if Isaac do this.”
“Suit yourself.” Cephalie vanished from Isaac’s shoulder.
“I’m ready. Let’s do this.” Susan turned around and pulled up the top of her business suit, revealing her naked back and a small U-shaped indentation halfway up it. Abstract art materialized over her whole back in the form of a woman in flowing white robes with a skull wearing a silver circlet for a head. Isaac wondered if the image was supposed to represent death. The figure held a scroll of parchment in her hands, and it took a moment for his senses to translate the Admin version of English.
“Uh, Susan?”
“What?”
“There’s a message on your back.”
“So?”
“It says ‘If you can see this, you’re in big trouble.’”
“Oh. Whoops. Must have left it on default.”
The scroll text changed to graphic instructions for removing her case.
“You can start cutting whenever.”
“Right.” Isaac lined up the tip of the knife with the top of the U-shape indentation and pushed in.
Slowly.
“What’s taking so long?” Susan asked.
“I’m being careful.”
“Why? You think you’re going to hurt me with that little toothpick?”
“Hey. Do you want to do this yourself?”
“I can’t do this myself. Otherwise I would.”
“Then let me work in peace. This is my first time carving into someone’s back.”
“All right,” she sighed. “Sorry.”
“Almost got it.” He curved the knife around, then drew it up through the U’s remainder. He lifted the flap of flesh. “Okay, I see a slot in your spine.”
“That’s it. Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Sending the release code.”
The slot opened, and Susan’s synthoid twitched, then locked in place.
Isaac reached into the slot, gripped a slender cartridge, and pulled it out. The cartridge was a square about the size and thickness of his palm with arrows on either side indicating the correct direction. He held it with both hands and walked—slowly and with great care—over to the back of the combat frame. He lined up the case with the slot and pushed in until he felt the first hint of resistance.
The combat frame shuddered, and he backed out of the v-wing.
Malmetal plates closed across the combat frame’s back in three layers, and the head swiveled toward him.
“Susan?” he asked. “Everything okay?”
“Good work.” The combat frame gave him a thumbs-up. “All systems green. I’m ready for action.” The audio came over his virtual senses.
Susan-the-combat-frame pulled the shirt down over her general purpose synthoid’s naked back. She picked up the empty husk, cradling its back and the crook of its knees with both arms, and placed it gently on the floor in the storage crate. Then she detached her rail-rifle and shoulder-mounted grenade launcher, stashed them next to her body, and sealed the container.
“Showtime!” she said with glee.
* * *
Susan waited at her assigned position by an archway just outside the gladiatorial arena. A virtual window provided her with a view of the new landscape, now featuring a rolling, windswept desert with red craggy rocks dotting it like oblong stone pillars. It was a good combination of solid cover and open sight lines well-suited to her combat frame’s maneuverability.
She switched on the vibro-axe in her right hand. Its leading edge blurred with deadly, rapid oscillations, and she swung it experimentally through the air. The arena weapon was solidly built with good heft and balance. She raised the incinerator in her left arm and fired a small test belch. A hot blue puff exhaled from the nozzle.
She had no idea what to expect from Thorn’s combat synthoid, but flame and blade would see her through this.
“Ladies and gentlemen and abstracts!” the announcer began. “Welcome to our main event! Tonight, the Atomic Resort is proud to present a surprise exhibition match, held exclusively for your entertainment! In the bow corner, with an unprecedented fifty-seven match winning streak, your reigning champion! Please give an atomic welcome to Thorn the Destroyer!”
The archway on the far side opened, and Thorn stepped out in a black chassis wrapped with the silhouettes of green, thorny vines. He stood atop two flexible limbs, and another two limbs of equal length held dual vibro-swords. Heavy pauldrons sat atop his shoulders with graviton thruster assemblies arranged behind and above them like skeletal wings. He crossed his swords in an X before him, then swished them out to either side.
Susan couldn’t hear the crowd, but Fat Man had told her the stadium seating was packed and half the resort had prepaid to watch remotely.
“And in the aft corner, his challenger. The soldier from another universe! The Thug from the Admin!”
If Susan had possessed a mouth and lungs, she would have sighed.
“Put your hands together for the Unbreakable Shield!”
The archway split apart, and Susan strode into the open. She changed the variskin over her left forearm to silver, expanded the malmetal to a door shield, and slammed its lower edge into the sands. Her shoulder and leg boosters heated up, and sand blasted out to either side.
She glanced up at Fat Man’s balcony and saw Isaac wave at her from the railing. Both archways closed, and a giant number three rotated in the center of the area. It changed to a two, then a one, then finally spelled out FIGHT!
Thorn swiveled his thrusters and energized them, darting to Susan’s left, and she engaged her own propulsion and flew to the right. They circled the arena, each wary of the other, the distance between them contracting as they both closed with the center.
Thorn cut in toward her, and she fired a burst from her incinerator, more as area denial than a full-on attack, and Thorn pulled back. They continued circling each other, now dangerously close. A single burst of speed inward from either combatant could bring them into direct conflict.
Her onboard infosystem analyzed Thorn’s synthoid, and estimated performance data scrolled in her virtual vision.
“A little slower than me, it would seem,” she murmured to herself. “Well then!”
She fired her boosters at full power and streaked toward the champion. He steadied himself with retro-thrust and held his ground with a rocky pillar at his back. He raised his swords as if ready to strike, but then both his pauldrons detached from the main body and flew at her.
“What?!”
She swung at the first pauldron, but the drone or whatever it was darted around her swipe and flew past. She caught a glimpse of chittering insect-like legs hidden within the pauldron’s armored shell.
The second pauldron charged at her, and she bashed it away with her shield. The drone spun out of control, flared its thruster wings, and regrouped with the other pauldron behind her.
Thorn energized his back thrusters and shot in, faster than her projections without the pauldron weight. He brandished both swords and swung at her. She deflected one attack with her shield, but the other scraped against her thigh armor and hewed through the outer layer of microplates before she pulled away.
She landed on the side of a tall reddish rock and tracked Thorn’s movements. All three segments of his synthoid docked, and he hovered in the air on a column of excited gravitons.
“Well, that was a neat trick.” Susan spun her axe in a taunting flourish. “Seems I should be taking you a little more seriously!”
She kicked off the rock and lit her boosters, flying toward her opponent. Thorn detached one of his pauldrons and sent it arching around her. She ignored it and closed the distance. Thorn tried to dash to the side, but she tracked him and crashed into him shield-first. His vibro-sword sparked against her shield, and she raised her axe for a heavy cleave.
The pauldron zipped in from behind, and the twittering insect legs inside its shell latched onto her forearm.
“Not good!”
The pauldron’s thrusters fired, and she found herself whipped to the side. She tried to correct her course, but the pauldron drove her into the ground. Sand blasted high as she cut a juddering groove through the dunes. She turned her back to the ground and fired her shoulder thrusters in an attempt to gain some altitude, but the pauldron twisted her arm and shoved her back down.
“Oh no you don’t!”
Susan jammed her incinerator into the pauldron’s shell and let loose. Blue flame enveloped the drone, and its mechanical insect legs began to glow. She smashed her free fist into it and yanked her forearm out of its grip, but she wasn’t done yet.
The pauldron tried to flit away, but she grabbed hold of it. It struggled to flee, thrusters firing in frantic, random bursts, and she accelerated toward the arena’s outer wall, her own propulsion overpowering it.
She flew up to the outer wall, following it in a long curving course, and she smashed the drone against it and kept flying. Sparks showered from the contact point as friction ate through the pauldron, one layer at a time. She sped on, grinding it down until its thrusters died out, and its twitching mechanisms fell still.
Then and only then did she pull back toward the arena center, where Thorn waited, holding the distance open. She tossed the pauldron toward him, and it landed at his “feet” in a glowing, smoking ruin.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” she taunted.
* * *
Thorn regarded the ruined drone with concern.
Her combat frame was faster and tougher than he’d expected. He’d chosen and equipped his gladiatorial frame based on the Type-92’s specifications, but her Type-99 far exceeded the older model’s thrust-to-mass ratio.
She may have never battled as a gladiator, but this was not the first time she’d fought in a synthetic body, that much was certain! She couldn’t have predicted the nature of his attack, and yet she’d adapted to it with remarkable ease.
He had to admit, he found that level of talent…admirable. In another life, she would have made an excellent gladiator.
But admiration would not win him this match. He was down one drone and he’d barely scratched her armor. He’d employed a tricky, overly complicated opener, and perhaps that had not been the best choice. It would have been a crowd pleaser, to be sure, but she’d overpowered the attack with brute force, and he feared she would do the same to his follow-ups.
His frame was too light to go toe to toe with her for long.
He needed an edge.
The Type-92’s schematic glowed in his virtual vision, and he raised his twin swords.
He knew what he had to do.
* * *
Thorn sped in, and Susan flew out to meet him. She fired her incinerator, but Thorn climbed over the flames, then dove at her. They collided in a flash of weapons and armor, broke, then slammed into each other again. Shield and axe clashed with twin swords, and Susan sprayed bursts of flame that charred Thorn’s armored skin.
She struck his remaining pauldron with her axe and split the armor, but Thorn swung with a rising sword, and deflected her second attack. He swatted her shield with a “leg” once, twice, and she found her guard forced upward, moments before he thrust straight at her chest with one of his blades.
The tip pierced into her chest plating, and the oscillating weapon ate through malmetal layers. Warning lights flashed in her virtual vision as her onboard infosystem projected the attack would cut through her case.
“Shit!”
She punched the flat of his blade and shattered it, then reversed her boosters and pulled back. Thorn dove after her and thrust with his remaining sword, again toward her chest. She brought her shield around, and the attack glanced off. He dashed to the left, thrust again, and his blade cut into her side, again angled toward the same internal systems. She bashed his attack aside with her shield and pulled away.
Susan yanked the broken sword tip out of her chest and tossed it away. Malmetal microplates sealed the wound and reinforced the path to her connectome case.
That was three attacks in a row aligned with a specific point within her torso. Was he deliberately going after her case? Or was he simply targeting the combat frame’s primary systems in the torso?
Either way, she needed to be careful! One false move, and that was it!
Thorn pointed the tip of his sword at her and hovered on his graviton thrust, and she switched to a more guarded posture, shield forward, axe at the ready as she levitated on her exhaust plume. They circled each other, neither willing to make the first move. Thorn darted in, and Susan pulled back, but he reversed course just as quickly as they felt each other out, both searching for an opening.
Thorn charged first, and Susan raised her guard. His sword bit into the top of her shield, and then one of his tentacles wrapped around the barrier and jerked it to the side. Thorn aimed his sword with deadly intent and thrust.
In desperation, Susan swung her axe to deflect the attack, but Thorn pulled back at the last moment.
“A feint!” she hissed.
His blade struck her axe arm’s shoulder, then sawed through armor layers to reach her internal systems. He pushed the blade in, cutting through the fuel line, and one of her shoulder boosters burped and sputtered.
She compensated with added thrust elsewhere and pulled back, trying to break free, but the blade in her shoulder and the tentacle around her shield delayed her long enough for Thorn to cut upward through her shoulder. He pulled his blade free, and her right arm spasmed and fell limp.
She kicked him in the center mass, and his grip on her shield loosened. She kicked once more, and they finally broke apart. She put some distance between them and regarded the slack arm hanging by a few malmetal microplates and cables.
“Well, this isn’t good.”
Thorn pressed the attack, and Susan lit him up with her incinerator. Hot, blue flame engulfed him, scalding his armor, but he pushed through and swatted her shield aside. He thrust, and his blade tore a deep gash through her incinerator. The output faltered, and he grappled with her, tentacles wrapping around her limbs.
His sword glinted in the light as he raised it, then brought it down in a slivery sweep that cleaved through her left shoulder. Her shield arm and ruined incinerator dropped to the sands.
She pulled back and landed, weaponless, unsure what to do next.
“We have a winner!” the announcer said. “Victory by disarmament! The winner is Thorn! Let’s hear it for our champion!”
Thorn landed across from her, swept the sword-wielding tentacle in front of him, and bowed.
“Well, shit,” Susan pouted.
* * *
Isaac regarded the combat frame, now back in its crate. The right arm hung from a few tentative cables, and the left arm sat on the floor.
“You did great,” he said, turning back to Susan, once again in her regular synthoid.
“But I wanted to win,” she said, sounding frustrated with her performance. “I almost had him, too.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. As long as Fat Man provides the information we need, I consider this a win.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She pushed the hanging arm and it rocked back and forth. “What are we going to do about repairs?”
“Kronos Station can take care of it, assuming you have the necessary patterns.”
“I do.”
“Then let’s plan to drop it off whenever we turn in the v-wing. If the case drags out, we can call dispatch and arrange transport, but I’d rather not bug them over this. Repairing your combat frame isn’t a priority.”
“It’s a priority for me,” Susan insisted.
“It’ll be fine.” Isaac smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the station will take good care of it.”
The entrance to their v-wing bin split open, and Thorn walked over on four tentacles, back in his original squidform synthoid.
“Detective. Agent.” He dipped his mechanical head to them. “My benefactor sent me here to personally provide you with the data you seek.” He held up a tentacle, and a file transfer request appeared.
“Cephalie?” Isaac said.
The LENS floated over, and the transfer request vanished.
“Got them. Looks like everything we’re after.”
“Start digging through the data.”
“On it!”
“Thorn,” Isaac said. “Please express our thanks to Fat Man.”
“I will, though there’s another matter I wish to bring to your attention.” Thorn’s head swiveled, and a camera lens focused on Susan. “Agent Cantrell, I feel I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“I assure you I would never have struck your connectome case intentionally. Accidents do happen in the arena, but such an attack is considered dishonorable amongst us gladiators.”
“Then why use it?” she pressed.
“You were, quite frankly, more of a challenge than I had expected. And so, I used the threat of harm to your case to force you into a defensive posture and gain the upper hand. That’s all.”
“Damn.” Susan crossed her arms and shook her head. “You certainly had me fooled.”
“And I’m sorry for that.” He bowed his head. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “We have what we came here for. I’m more concerned about how you knew where to strike.”
“Yes, about that.” His eyes focused on the damaged combat frame. “A third party contacted me before the match”—he offered her a file—“and gave me this.”
She took the file and opened it.
“Uh oh. Isaac.”
“What?”
“We’ve got another problem.” She transferred the file to him. “Someone gave Thorn classified intel from the Gordian Division. That’s their analysis of the Type-92 combat frame, which is the model their agents faced while unraveling the Gordian Knot. The contents of this report are old news to me, but I’d assume Gordian doesn’t want it circulating outside their division.”
“You’re right.” Isaac perused the file before closing it. “Kaminski’s not going to like this one bit.”
“Who gave you the report and why?” Susan asked.
“I wish I knew. The individual avoided answering those same questions when I posed them, though he or she used the name Ōdachi.”
“Ōdachi?” Susan turned to Isaac and they exchanged a knowing look.
“It’s possible Ōdachi saw an opportunity to slow us down,” Isaac suggested. “Susan, if you’d been killed…”
“Yeah. Someone’s playing for keeps here.”
“I think it best if you two exercise caution,” Thorn said. “Someone is watching your progress.”
“You could be right.” Susan glanced over the classified file once more, then closed it. “Thanks for the help, Thorn.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped closer to her combat frame and made a throat clearing sound, despite his lack of a throat or mouth. “You know, Agent Cantrell.”
“Yes?”
“Your combat frame is quite impressive.”
“Thanks. I think so, too.”
“It’s a shame to see it in such a state.” He poked the broken arm and let it wobble. “I would be happy to offer you the services of my pit crew. They’ll have it fixed up in no time, I’m sure.”
“I doubt we’ll be sticking around much longer,” Isaac interjected as he climbed into the v-wing. “Cephalie?”
“Most likely, but I’m still waiting on a response from the Ministry of Transportation.”
“I see.” Thorn sighed, which was odd given his lack of lungs. “I understand, of course. Though, Agent Cantrell, I hope you’ll contact me when your combat frame is repaired. It would be nice to duel you again under less…strenuous circumstances.” He dipped his head to Susan. “Farewell for now.”
Thorn departed the v-wing bin, and the doors sealed shut behind him.
“I think he likes you,” Isaac said.
She shuddered and boarded the v-wing.