Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [91]
The interceptor was over the landing point. As it hovered there, sensor beams flooded the snowswept landscape, looking for traps. Was the freighter rendezvousing with another vehicle here? Not by the look of it.
Satisfied, the pilot reconfigured his craft for land operations. Safe in his globepit, he didn’t hear the fuselage slide back around him or the tail retract. The interceptor began dropping, Its hoverchute ablating slightly in the atmosphere.
The wings folded out, elbow joints appearing halfway along their length. The engine cowlings twisted out of sight as the exoskeleton withdrew from its housing and locked into place. The nosecone rotated, the sensor arrays morphing to adjust to their new surroundings. Landing claws extended into feet and toes. The wing-mounted laser cannons rotated and extended forward until they resembled club-like hands.
In ‘Walk’ mode the interceptor was bipedal, the globe pit mounted in the torso four metres above the ground.
The head was packed with sensors, each arm was a powerful battery of weapons.
If anyone had been outside, they would have seen a squat humanoid shape, roughly eight metres high apparently straining to look up into the sky.
The computer flashed up a warning which the Adjudicator-Pilot didn’t believe.
His ear filled with static as he opened up a coded comm-channel. ‘Ah... Grey One to Battle Platform. I’m registering fusion charges ahead. Twenty-two of them. It must be a computer glitch.’
Nyssa had changed into a spacesuit. Cwej had already turned the thermostat up to maximum before she had put it on, and inside the freighter the heat was almost enough to scald her skin. Outside she suspected she would be grateful for every erg of energy. They were slotting the last two fusion charges into place as the ship landed.
‘You carry the box,’ Chris said. Nyssa closed the container locked it shut with a tiny magnetic clamp and lifted it, not wanting to think what was inside. Cwej had drawn the pistol he had taken from the failed pilot. He was still unsteady on his twisted ankle, and this was made worse when the ship lurched.
Chris looked up, wincing. ‘What was that?’
The ground reverberated again. And again.
‘Footsteps?’ Nyssa asked.
‘The Adjudicators are here already,’ Chris said.
‘It could be the Doctor.’
‘Not unless he’s put on a lot of weight. Come on!’
They left the hold, Nyssa clutching the box containing the bombs to her chest.
Just outside there was an external bulkhead. A square porthole gave them an excellent view of the snowblown landscape outside.
A giant was striding towards them through the blizzard: a robot ogre. Its hands, feet and head were crude, boxlike.
Its skin was black and pale blue armour-plating.
Searchlights swung around in all directions from mountings on the machine’s hips, shoulders and head.
Chris studied it, calmly cataloguing its weapons and abilities. We are a sitting duck in here, we’ll have to leave.’
‘It s too big!’ Nyssa said. ‘We can’t...’
‘Hey, don’t worry. We’ll find a way. It can’t risk shooting at us, remember?’
There was a cold blast of air as Chris popped open an access chute.
‘I’ll go first,’ he said, easing himself through the hatch.
The icy ground was only a metre or so below them. Chris lifted Nyssa down by’ the waist. They had the freighter between themselves and the robot, so had at least temporary cover.
Nyssa looked back. A massive hand grabbed on to the top of the freighter for support. The robot loomed over the starship, which was standing slightly askew. The robot peered down at them. Behind it, the clouds were black, and boiling.
‘The sky...’ she said.
‘The weather is not the most pressing problem,’ Chris said. He levelled his laser pistol and fired. A scarlet bolt sliced through the air, hitting the robot square in the chest.
The armour absorbed the energy.
‘Run!’ shouted Chris.
Beneath the interceptor, the young man had stumbled over a knee-high clump of snow. The girl on his arm pulled him upright. Messawi took another step forward, enhancing the magnification on the viewer. He was gaining