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59
A battered, collapsing West Dome, on all that remained of the Earth-
There in the shelter, last-minute orders were given, and people gathered for evac. This was where Scott Tracy shone. Working closely with Sheffield and Sharl-Who-waits-no-longer, he got them all organized and ready to leave.
There was only a single casualty. One of the pets, which Sheff had taken to calling "Rat-B", became frightened and got away from its incautious owner. Squeaking and squirming, the hamster bit old Amberlee soundly, then shot for that busted hatch like a furry lightning bolt. Dozens of hands grabbed for the fleeing pet, who dodged them all to reach the open portal and fast-shrinking aisle. Frantic with worry, Amberly lunged for her scurrying tiny companion.
"Leele, no! Leele, come!" she begged, but the pet didn't hear.
It should not have been able to get through the shield, but power was low, and the constant attack of that nanite storm had trebled in fury. John tried to compensate by reprogramming the field to block only inorganic structures below a certain size. The Mechanic, too, was having trouble, for he dared not break concentration. Even so, the rebellious dust was beginning to seep through his grip and inch forward.
All of this meant that Leele, Rat-B, arrowed right out through the weakening field in a shower of glittering sparks. Amberlee shrieked and tried to follow, as poor Rat-B vanished; dissolved of fur, flesh and bones in less than a shrill, tortured heartbeat. John and Kane reacted instinctively, each seizing hold of the keening woman before she could fatally damage their shield.
"Leave it!" Kane snarled. Then, over one muscular shoulder. "Can't hold them back much longer, Horatio."
Added John, as he helped to sling Amberlee over to Sheff,
"Down to about twenty-three percent auxiliary field strength, Scott. He's right. We've got to go."
Once again grimly determined, Scott nodded, then turned; all muscle, tension and steel. To the engineer, he said,
"Brains, what're we looking at?"
Hackenbacker had been working through Max to establish a new set of jump parameters. Also, he'd been standing body-heat close to Moffy. Not quite touching, for that would be improper, until they were married… but close. Looking up from his Max-top keyboard, he said,
"S- Scott, you see one danger, and wish to evade it. I see, ah… see m- many, beginning with an aborted j- jump, and ending with consumption by, ah… by n- nanites. Translation: I am w- working as swiftly and, ah… and s- safely as possible."
Professor Moffat looked up, as well, her glasses flashing reflected gold lamplight like strobes.
"Trust us, Scott," she urged. "This is one calculation that you don't want to rush. There is precisely one survivable solution, here."
Every other output led to disaster in distant and alien timelines.
"Add faster," barked Scott, who felt utterly useless, and therefore impatient. "Get Eos to help, but make it happen."
Virgil, meanwhile, was talking with Major Pope, strategizing ways to create a new, dust-proof seal. They had a few options, none of them perfect. The best? Same as he'd once used on Mars. Cause a collapse, and then spray the rockfall with sealant.
"Problem is, one d*mn crack, one pinhole…" said J.R., doubtfully.
"Yeah. It's a longshot, I know," Virgil admitted. "But better than plan B: bend over, grab your ankles, and kiss your butt goodbye."
Major Pope snorted, graveyard-amused by it all.
"I was thinking of diverting all power to your brother's pocket shield generator, myself. Lights, fans and recycling seem like expendable luxuries, right about now."
The Mechanic had been halfway following their conversation. His own charge was dangerously low, but he turned to face them and growled,
"No time. I'll charge the shield, Crash-Jockey. You collapse the entry-lock, then seal it. Horatio can't focus, we all die."
Virgil hesitated, then nodded, saying,
"Sounds like a plan. Scott, we need to get these folks moved as far back as possible. Brains, take your time. It's handled. John, get away from the hatch, or… h*ll, never mind. Eos! If you can hear me, get him to move. We're making a new door, and sealing it!"
"Not deaf," John muttered, not looking up. Eos had made repeated attempts to contact and deflect those alien nanobots. No joy. Her efforts had only triggered a wave of increasingly vicious attacks.
"They exist to destroy, John," she informed him, speaking through his earpiece. "They are so old that calculation fails me. I believe that they, and their vessel, originate from beyond our universe."
"Squeezed in through a rift?" he grunted, working like fury to maintain their shield. Felt bad about the hamster. Hadn't seen the thing, till too late.
"Yes, John. There is a seventy-six-point-two-five-four percent likelihood of precisely that," Eos responded, adding, "John, they… frighten me. Most constructs may be reasoned with. These have but one directive. They recall an ancient conflict, and exist to eliminate organic life wherever encountered. They are strong, John."
"uh-huh," he replied, moving away from the shattered hatch in response to her guidance and motor-cortex stimulation. "One-track minds are easily derailed, Sweetie. Give me thirty seconds and a decent virus program."
Then the Mechanic stepped into his path, looming like a cyborg mountain. Deeply drained, Kane stank of ozone, sweat and cortisol. The last time they'd squared off, John had been trying to save Little-Bit, Jaeger and Eos. The last time, he'd nearly been killed.
The bio-circuitry in his suit and body alerted, now, sensing the Mechanic's near presence. Eos sort of literally crept behind him, seeming to collect in a bundle of static between John's shoulder blades. There was no internet, here, no place but Max in which to seek refuge from a Lord of machines, and John was all the protection she had. But,
"Keep coding, Tracy" rumbled Kane, reaching forward with a massive, robotic hand to seize hold of the shield generator. "I'll provide the power."
Right. Not sure what to say to that, John simply nodded and resumed walking. A few yards away, surrounded by friendly, curious natives, he got back to work.
Virgil only just didn't give him a hurry-up shove, turning sideways to let John and the hulking cyborg get past. Together, he and Pope next began setting explosives, trying to give Brains the time he needed to plot a safe route through the hazards of spacetime. Scott came over to supervise, watching as Virgil and J.R. placed their charges.
"You sure this'll work?" he fretted.
"Honestly?" said the major, taking a break from shaping plastic explosive. "Thirty-seventy."
"Oh, h*ll no," Virgil objected. "Forty-five, fifty-five, at least."
Scott shook his head.
"Never mind the odds," he decided. "Just buy us a little more workspace."
"That's the plan, glorious leader. So, uh…"
"…maybe don't stand in the blast zone," J.R. completed his new friend's thought, reaching past Scott to shove an explosive charge in a cracked bolt hole. Five minutes later, Virgil Tracy brought down the house. Part of it, anyway.
"Fire in the hole!" he called out, diving into the shelter of Scott's hastily-constructed barricade.
Ten well-placed, expertly shaped charges collapsed the double-hatch airlock. The blast had been planned to project outward, once John contracted their faltering shields another few feet. Sounded like firecrackers under a line of tin cans, followed by a creaking, groaning rockslide. Bits of concrete, stone and shorn metal fell with an almighty rumble. Virgil would have expected some screaming and gasps, but these tall, friendly people seemed to believe that he and his brothers were rolled up in miracles. All they did was hold hands and back up a few paces.
The debris was still settling when Virgil strode forward, sealant hose out and primed to spray hard.
"Fifteen percent auxiliary shield power," John remarked conversationally. Caleb had brought a chair for the Mechanic, whose charge had dropped to .07 percent. The vampirized cyborg glared, at first. Then, jerking the wheeled seat out of Caleb's hands, he thumped himself down. Didn't let go of the shield generator, though. Give him that.
Taking a slight risk, John looked up from his coding and said,
"Something needs to happen in the next three minutes, Scott. Preferably, something good."
Yeah. No pressure, at all. As Virgil began jetting powerful, expanding white foam at the rockslide, filling their shelter with a sharp, chemical reek, Scott turned back to Brains. Was about to say something; oath, order, encouragement, prayer… could never afterward remember quite what. Then, Hackenbacker looked up triumphantly.
"I h- have it!" he exulted. "Everyone, draw in as, ah… as closely as p- possible! Anything projecting beyond the c- crystal's effective reach gets, ah… gets l- left behind, including b- body parts."
It was a tightly-knit group that saw the blue glow and vanished, just fifteen seconds ahead of that first plume of dust.