Battleship Raider, Paul Tomlinson [inspirational books for women .TXT] 📗

system. Startled, I almost soiled my underwear. I looked up at the ceiling, guilt obvious on my face. I thought I was being reprimanded for stealing clothes. I’d found a black t-shirt and a nearly-new pair of khakis in someone’s private locker. I was threading my belt, complete with its new pattern of teeth marks, into the loops when the voice echoed around me.

“Remain in your current position and await arrest. A security detail is on its way. Failure to comply will result in a severe penalty.”

I was fairly certain that I’d suffer the same severe penalty if I did comply. Big Red was on his way and I don’t think he intended to take prisoners. I picked up the canvas holdall I’d borrowed from the sergeant’s quarters – and it felt reassuringly heavy. I’d grabbed a couple of big rifles plus ammunition for them and extra bullets for my pistol. I was disappointed that there weren’t any high-calibre weapons in the locker – presumably they kept the fun stuff somewhere else – but I had found a handful of small grenades that I thought I might have a use for.

Using the crutch, I headed back towards the medbay as quickly as I could. It seemed as good a place as any to make my stand. And it had a secret exit that I could crawl back into if needed. Locking myself in the medbay wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t think of a better option. My leg was on the mend, but I wasn’t going to be running sprints or marathons anytime soon.

There was a moment when I wondered if I would even make it back to the medbay. I heard a click-click-click as something metallic walked towards me. Before I could hide, the thing turned the corner ahead and came towards me. It was maybe four feet tall and scurried along on four robotic legs. It looked sort of like a crab but what it really reminded me of was a severed hand walking on its fingers. This was creepy enough, but even more unsettling was the big machinegun on its back. It marched forward and showed no signs of slowing. I pressed myself back against the wall. It walked straight past me and continued on its way, obeying whatever instructions it had been given. My guess was that these armoured crab-bots were being dispatched to guard all of the exits off the ship.

I slammed the medbay door shut behind me, locked it, and jammed the lock again. How many blasts from the big robot’s bazooka would it withstand? I didn’t know. Not many.

Again I found myself wishing I still had Trixie to call on for help. It’s amazing how lost you feel when your tech is gone. I still had the second drone, but the plan that was forming in my head called for Mozzie to be sacrificed. He was going to act as a decoy, drawing the big robot away so I could make my way to another part of the ship without being bashed or blown up.

“Mozzie,” I said, “I need you to do something for me. I want you to go back to the airlock we used to get into the ship, can you do that for me?”

The little drone made a positive whistling sound.

“I want you to trigger some of the ship’s sensors as you go so it knows where you’re heading. Don’t trigger them all – we don’t want to make it too obvious.”

More whistling.

“When you get there, I want you to make it seem like you’re trying to open the hatch to get out of the airlock.”

The drone floated out of the medbay, exiting through the hole that I’d used to get in. It would travel some distance hidden between the skins of the hull and then come out into a corridor where it would be picked up by the movement sensors. Hopefully, that would draw the attention of the big robot. In the meantime, I would be heading in the opposite direction in search of the battleship’s main computer room.

When I crawled into the hole, I had to abandon my crutch. There was a dull ache in my thigh that would probably increase as the painkillers wore off, but other than that my leg was fully functional.

Normally when I’m heavily out-gunned, I try and talk my way out. But how do you reason with a military robot that’s had its ‘kill’ button pressed? You don’t. You have to try and talk with whoever is controlling the robot. As far as I could see, it had to be the ship’s computer that was controlling both the security robots I’d encountered before and the big red monster. I needed to come up with some way to get the computer to call off its dog.

In the medbay I had tried to use the ship’s internal communications network to talk to the computer, but there had been no response. Either there was a problem with the network or a problem with the main computer. I would have to go to the ship’s tech centre and try to access the computer directly. With luck, the little drone would distract the big robot long enough for me to use the computer to shut it down.

I saw two more of the crab-like machine-gunners as I made my way through the ship, but I didn’t let them see me. I was doing all I could to avoid getting picked up by the ship’s sensors, using the space between the hulls and the service ducts wherever possible. I wanted the computer to think that the drone was me.

When I pressed my ID tag to the scanner, the door into the computer room slid open. The area inside was only partially lit by dim red emergency lighting. Maybe the computer had a migraine. I stepped inside and the door closed behind me.

“Computer,” I said, “turn on the lights.”

Nothing happened – but you have to try these things.

“Computer?”

Still nothing. Standing in