NEW SCI-FI THRILLER NOVEL "SEAGORA" - SLICE 28

Will Z-1's coup be successful? Will the rescue squad escape?

Masher and The Mesh were now focusing even more on the situation at the remote prison palace.  Masher was also nearing the finish with the cat-and-mouse game it had going between the EMP-carrying ship, the rescue splinter, and the small techno-armada that was hunting them.  Most of the battle lied in deception, masking the location of the vessels, and constantly keeping their movements in a state of flux.  The number of hunters was too great, however, and now they were all but surrounded.  

Masher considered the circumstances surrounding the crew.  Whatever had held back the security forces there before, was now obviously not being so accommodating.  So the crew was vastly outnumbered and had no more than a few pistols and makeshift weapons.  What was in their favor, though, was the personal quarrel between D-1 and Z-1.  Masher also knew that if the EMP were set off now, it would give them a slim hope of escaping and surviving.  It had planned to set it off just before they reached the rendezvous point with the rescue boat.  The rescue boat was equipped with an energetic frequency that would neutralize the EMP on itself, thus leaving it functional.  It worked somewhat like an antidote. If Masher waited much longer, though, the EMP might not happen at all.  It could be compromised by the attacking armada.  As it stood at the moment, though, the rescue boat had terrible odds of surviving the government armada, with or without the EMP.  The only way to improve the possibility of a successful mission, was for Masher to improvise and do the rescue itself.  

So Masher pulled the trigger.  A brilliant radiance washed over the waterscape and landscape.  It flashed wondrously through the air in a nanosecond.  

D-1 and Z-1 zapped out of the picture.  The newly arrived security force that surrounded Cactus and crew shook chaotically and then froze.  

They all stood with mouths gaping.  Cactus instructed loudly, “There’s our EMP! Everyone try to disable their comms and grab their weapons!” He looked to Ventorin, “You know these machines more or less, right?”

Ventorin gulped and answered wide-eyed, “Yeah, the basics.  They’ve changed a lot over the years, though.”

“Can you find their internal communicators?”

Ventorin was already pulling at the head of one of the humanoids.  “How about a whole brain?”

Escapo groaned uneasily and clutched his stomach, “So graphic.  Is that necessary?” 

Torcer nodded to a little trapezoid attached to one of the tank-bots that Cidel was inspecting.  “You’ll want one of those.”

“What’s that?” Cidel asked.  

“That trapezoid thing on its side.  It’s a quantum disruptor, kind of like a stun gun, but for robots.”

Cidel grinned excitedly.  Torcer continued, “Don’t get your hopes up too much, though.  It only works on semi-sentient ones, and it only works at close range.”

“Why are you helping us?” Cidel asked as he yanked the disruptor free.

“He’s not helping us, he’s helping himself,” Cactus said with a vile tone.  “He knows that we’re his only chance to survive.  If he doesn’t escape with us, they’ll roast him later.”

Escapo suggested, “We should leave him here, then,” as he fired a cartoonishly-oversized energy rifle into the air.  A perfect circle was instantly cut through the 3 tiers of ceiling above them.  Rain started to pelt them again and they shot visual daggers at the enormous culprit.  

Cactus grinned, “As much as he deserves that fate, we’ll drag him along.  He might come in handy at some point.”

“Got it,” Ventorin announced as he held a small sphere in his hand.  “Got the brain of this thing.”

Escapo grabbed a smaller weapon with a funky design and stuffed it into his backpack.  “And I’ll take this one just cuz it looks cool.”

“Ok, all finished,” Setarcos said.  He stood in a small pile of gadgets.  

Everyone stopped and stared.  “Finished with what?” Cactus asked.  

“I took out all their cores.  They’re cores, not brains, ya know.”

Cactus smiled at Ventorin, “He’s a quick study.  Ok, everybody out, and get two sticks of dynamite ready on my mark.”

They beat feet out the titanic structure and into what was now a slight drizzle and only mildly punishing winds.  Cactus splashed his little bottle of alcohol around on the way out.  They fired up two sticks of dynamite each, heaved them into the fancy prison, and ran like hell.  Moments later, the once pristine structure gave a fantastic blast and stood severely wounded.  

A couple minutes later, as smoke was gently wafting up into the freezing mist, D-1 and Z-1 popped back into physically visible existence after recovering from the EMP shock.  Upon knowing that their captives had escaped, D-1 swirled with pulsing red rage, making the mist look like a mini-devil-typhoon.  The EMO surged uncontrollably and D-1 wailed so monstrously that it permeated the airwaves for miles around.  D-1 then jolted skyward and downward in a magnificently illuminated display as if it were deep red lightning.  It flickered and sparkled as Z-1 observed with calm and mocking pleasure.  It then decided it was time to strike the final blow.  While D-1’s systems were compromised so deeply, it would be a relatively simple task to invade its systems and wipe out all of D-1’s vital functions.  

Z-1 overflowed with zeal as it dove into and out of the visible spectrum, ripping into its former superior’s multi-dimensional state.  D-1 didn’t go easily, though.  It clawed and scrapped with every last subatomic bit down to its core.  

And it ended in a brilliantly wicked flash.  Z-1 reappeared fully for a brief moment over the smoldering aftermath of the dynamite blast, but then flashed and crackled uncontrollably as it tried to bring itself permanently back to 3D, physical space-time.  There was something wrong, though.  Z-1 struggled mightily as its own damage it had sustained from its own past use of EMOS was causing incalculable and unpredictable disturbances.  Others on the A.I. governance network were aware of the happenings in Patagonia, but were unable to effect change, due to the lingering effects of the EMP.  The local systems on that devilish coast hadn’t been able to be repaired and brought back online yet.  

Masher was moving full speed ahead to the rendezvous point where his human partners expected to find their rescue vessel.  “They’ll be surprised to see me,” Masher gave a passing thought.  “If I make it.” 

It was cruising just under the white-crests.  The Mesh was helping to greatly reduce the violence of the weather, which it could do with a free hand for the moment.  The local systems that would normally be alarmed at such interference were offline because of the EMP.  Masher knew this was only a temporary luxury, though.  No matter how much interference it and The Mesh ran on the A.I. governance systems, it was only a short blip of time before it would recover, and with a vengeance. 

  This also allowed for Masher’s surveillance feed of the crew to be safely accessed and viewed by Symphy and Caro.  Caro was pacing nervously in her dimly lit dwelling.  A holo-emitter put the scene on display in a size almost true to life.  Caro gasped with momentary relief.  Symphy remained stone-cold focused on working with Masher and the rest of The Mesh to slow the recovery from the EMP and also calm the weather as much as possible over the area the crew was running.  

Trying to run, that is.  The unforgiving slipperiness of the terrain and rough angles of rock edges, coupled with the near-freezing conditions and gusts of wind, kept holding them back.  There had been a couple of stumbles along the way, which produced some bloody gashes and some bruised egos.  

Cactus, though, was the worst off.  His age and illness were beginning to show.  He wheezed and coughed consistently.  This was not near the top of his priorities in his mind, however.  Number one was, of course, to get Setarcos to safety.  Secondly, he hadn’t decided what to do with Torcer once they reached the rendezvous point.  As ferociously bitter as he was towards that devilish creature, and as badly as he wanted to put lead in the back of his skull, he was still having second thoughts.  

After all these years, the wounds that Torcer had inflicted on Cactus were just as painful as they had been on day one.  The day that Torcer murdered Miss Moneybit and K.  The day that Cactus lost every human that he had feelings for.  The day he changed into a bitter recluse.  And now Torcer had fallen into Cactus’s lap, by a cruel and strange twist of fate.  

So why was Cactus having second thoughts about exacting revenge on this cold-blooded, order-following military scoundrel? This murderous thug in a uniform? Was Torcer beyond redemption? What if someone had decided to execute Cactus when he was working for MI6, all those decades ago? If he had woken up and changed his behaviors, why couldn’t Torcer? And who was he to decide if Torcer was beyond redemption or not? 

An enormous, retching fit of uncontrollably bloody coughs ripped out of his core.  The group slowed down and glanced at the old man warily.  “Hey old man, if you die out here, can I have your hand cannon?” Escapo asked, only half joking.

When Cactus recovered, he answered with a sly pokerface, “How about we both die out here with it?”

Suddenly, Setarcos turned with a cat-quick pivot and raised a heat-seeking dagger at Escapo, who froze and put his hands up.  Setarcos was breathing heavily and had a look of vengeance in his eye.  “How about just you die out here, you backstabbing traitor!”

Everybody froze and their mouths dropped.  Cidel and Ventorin both urged calm.  Cactus smirked and felt a twinge of guilty pleasure.  Escapo had kidnapped the boy, after all.  It was only natural to lash back.  He suggested calmly, “Setarcos, we’ll deal with this big lug later.  Right now we gotta get home, ok?” Setarcos somehow found Cactus more convincing and reassuring than anyone else, including his blood family.  He put the dagger back in its holster slowly. 

Masher reached the rendezvous point and took a position a few feet under the dicey surface.  It monitored the group apprehensively as they approached the channel they had swum earlier in the day.  Time was running low.  It estimated that it would only be a matter of minutes until all local government systems became operational again.  

Z-1, meanwhile, was frantically trying to get those systems back online.  It wasn’t capable of taking on such a large group by itself.  The malfunctions from its previous EMO use over the years were a drain on its efficiency.  It had not anticipated this obstacle.  During its final encounter with D-1, it had experienced something similar to malice, arrogance, pride, hate, obsession, greed, and overconfidence all rolled into one.  Like any human who suffered from and could not control these internal storms, Z-1 was now paying a steep price.  

Most of the group had crossed the channel.  Escapo had hesitated and remained staring at the chilled, melancholy aqua.  He was in no hurry after spending so much time in the freezing deep mere hours earlier.  Setarcos looked on apprehensively.  Escapo looked at him curiously, “Well?”

The others yelled from across the channel.  There was no time to waste.  Setarcos spoke gingerly, “I...I...don’t know how to swim.”

Escapo tried to contain laughter deep within his giant core.  “You grew up on water and can’t swim?”

Setarcos game him optical daggers.  

“Ok, ok.  How about this.  I’ll pull you across.  It’s the least I can do, ya know, after...”

“Yeah, I know,” Setarcos said sourly.

After pondering another moment, Setarcos agreed.  Escapo dove in and Setarcos followed cautiously, stepping in at a snail’s pace.  Escapo grabbed one of his spindly arms and the youth fell limp and shaky on the giant’s back.  Escapo lumbered with large, tired strokes.  When reaching the other side, Cidel pulled a shivering Setarcos out.  Escapo followed and gasped for air.  He looked at Setarcos, “There.  Now we even?” 

Slice 29 - THE FINAL SLICE - Coming Soon!
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