The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [197]
And now they had come to Earth.
He opened a channel, knowing that Peter was probably laughing at this turn of events. “General Brindle, prepare to stand in defense of Earth.”
The older commander appeared as grim as a statue. “Fleet Admiral Willis has offered her assistance, and I intend to take her up on it.” Basil noted this wasn’t phrased as a request. Without waiting for his acknowledgment, the Goliath and the EDF ships formed a defensive line in space, their jazer banks powered up, their explosive projectiles loaded.
A transmission came across all the common EDF bands, all private frequencies used by Hansa diplomats, all commercial channels — a buzzing voice filled with eerie, scraping tones.
And it spoke in Trade Standard, needing no translation.
“The breedex demands to see the Chairman of the Terran Hanseatic League. Basil Wenceslas must come aboard our swarmship. In person. Immediately.”
* * *
136
Sirix
In the network of reconstruction frames orbiting above the Earth, Sirix was satisfied with the progress of the robot-specific ships, forty-two vessels of unorthodox design that had been assembled from the leftover components and raw materials the robots had scrounged. While Sirix’s ships looked like no more than unpressurized frameworks, they were essentially complete and could depart, or attack, at any time.
In addition, his workers had nearly finished rebuilding fourteen more EDF ships. Once these vessels passed the ponderous human inspections, the Hansa would release thousands more new black robots . . . another major step forward for his plan. Chairman Wenceslas was so arrogant that he believed the robots could not deceive him again.
Now, on the bridge of a newly repaired EDF Manta, Sirix waited for a human engineer to complete his tedious sign-off process. The inspector was a somewhat chubby man with a good-natured disposition, and he did his work at a maddeningly slow pace. He kept muttering to himself. “Gotta be careful. No sense in rushing. Can’t make mistakes.”
And yet he did make mistakes, missing the extremely subtle modifications the robots had made in every one of the vessels.
While he waited for the man to finish, Sirix fixed his crimson optical sensors on the shocking readings that were suddenly projected across the Manta’s long-range watchdog screens. Ships. Large ships.
Klikiss swarmships.
The clumsy human inspector took several moments to notice them. “What are those?” He jabbed a stubby finger toward the blips on the screen, as if Sirix wouldn’t know what he was talking about.
The robot leader scanned through possibilities, assessing and rejecting options. He settled on the only possible alternative. “Those are swarmships,” Sirix said. “The Klikiss have come for us.”
During his time aboard, the man had tried to be friendly to Sirix, chatting with him as if they were old comrades. “For you? What does that mean?”
“It means my robots will require these battleships after all.” Sirix extended one of the long, articulated arms from his body core. This one had a serrated edge.
“What — ”
With a single sweep, Sirix severed the man’s head. It landed on the deck plates with a wet plop, rolled, then came to a stop.
One other human worker stood close to the lift doors on the Manta’s bridge. He stared with wide eyes and turned to run. Two other black robots intercepted him and made quick work of tearing the man apart. At any other time Sirix would have relished the feeling of his hard pincers cutting through soft flesh. Now, his only concern was with the oncoming swarmships. Eleven of them, a larger Klikiss force than anything Sirix had ever encountered.
The breedex sent a blaring signal across all channels, asking for Chairman Wenceslas by name, and suddenly, Sirix realized that he was the one who had been betrayed. While pretending to form a naïve partnership with the black robots, the Chairman had somehow been in contact with the insect race. He must have summoned the breedex here to exterminate them.
Sirix transmitted an immediate