Steph Bennion - Paw-Prints of the Gods

“Missi,” growled Kedesh. “Open this door now!”

“I regret that is not possible,” the disembodied voice of the AI replied.

“Let us out of here!” demanded Ravana. “What have done with Artorius?”

“The boy is quite safe,” Missi intoned. “He is a most fortunate find, for once analysed he will complete important gaps in my research.”

“What?” cried Ravana, confused. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him!”

“Your own fate is more prosaic,” the AI continued. “The robots carry food to my subjects but the synthetic proteins produced by the molecularisor are a poor substitute for the living flesh they need to thrive. I have therefore taken the liberty of extracting the air from the hangar, which will be restored before you reach the point of death, though not before you suffer irreversible brain damage. You destroyed many research specimens, but rest assured that your contribution to the welfare of the remainder will be largely pain-free.”

“Thraak thraak!”

“We are not going to be spider food!” retorted Kedesh. “Open this blasted door!”

“This is crazy!” shrieked Ravana. “Let us out!”

To her alarm, she was already finding it harder to draw breath. Kedesh succumbed quickly and fell to her knees, though Nana seemed singularly unaffected. Ravana grabbed the woman’s arm and in desperation dragged her towards the transport to take refuge inside. A large robot, aggressively brandishing its six multi-tooled limbs, blocked their way. Feeling faint, Ravana left Kedesh and returned to claw at the door but to no avail. It was then that her gaze fell upon the plasma cannon, still lying upon the nearby bench.

“Having problems?” purred a voice from behind.

Ravana, Kedesh and Nana turned to stare at the dark-haired woman lounging coolly against the front of the derelict transport parked next to their own. The woman gave the prone Kedesh a sympathetic smile, greeted Ravana and Nana with an apologetic shrug, then went back to idly contemplating her manicured fingernails.

“You!” gasped Kedesh. “This is not how it is supposed to be!”

“The boy is in no danger,” the woman retorted. “There is no paradox.”

“The AI is pumping out the air!” Ravana cried weakly. “Help us!”

“Mad Missi killed them all,” the woman said casually. “Military personnel, support staff, the lot. They were still breathing when the robots dragged them into the valley, but only just. The AI’s creators did not see the need for moral reasoning in a system intended solely for science. This is what happens when you remove ethics from the pursuit of knowledge. I’ve never seen a machine so dedicated to research!”

“You evil moggy,” murmured Kedesh. “Do something!”

“Does ‘science’ include rearing giant spiders?” the woman asked conversationally.

Ravana stared at the woman in disbelief. Her lungs felt ready to burst, her mind was in turmoil, yet the watcher sat chatting politely as if she had just dropped by for a cup of tea. Kedesh lay unmoving upon the floor. Ravana frantically looked around the hangar and in desperation staggered to the workbench and picked up the plasma cannon.

“What are you doing, Ravana?” asked Missi. “This is no time for violence.”

“I disagree,” she muttered. “It is the perfect time.”

The weapon was heavier than expected but felt good in her hands. Ravana pressed her thumb against the power switch and blinked in surprise. Targeting cross-hairs had appeared in space before her and she realised the cannon’s guidance systems had linked with the mind’s-eye display of her implant. As she hesitantly prepared to blast the door, she heard a clatter of steel limbs and saw a maintenance robot coming in for the attack.

“You have very little air left,” said the AI. “Why make this difficult?”

In a panic, Ravana turned the cannon towards the robot and pulled the trigger. A spear of white lightning leapt from the barrel and hit the mechanical dervish, which spun away in a flurry of disintegrating components and crashed against the airlock in a shower of sparks. Fighting for breath, Ravana fell dizzily to her knees and defiantly swung the cannon towards the door to the corridor. Mustering all her remaining strength, she fired again.

The blast tore the door from its frame, sending it flying down the passage at the head of a searing tide of plasma. Ravana was promptly knocked to the ground as a gust of air blew through the shattered doorway, filling the hangar with life-giving oxygen. Her chest ached, she had spots before her eyes and it felt as if her throbbing brain had turned to candyfloss, but she was alive. She climbed to her feet with the plasma cannon still in her hands. Nana scuttled towards Kedesh, who during all the excitement had fainted.

“Your actions are jeopardising my research,” the AI said calmly. “I can no longer tolerate your presence. I have no option but to remove life support in all areas.”

“I have all the support I need,” retorted Ravana. Having recovered her breath, she patted the barrel of the cannon. “If I find you’ve done anything to harm Artorius, I will ram this thing into your databanks and blow very big holes in your research.”

“Bravo,” said the woman, still sat on her perch. “Your heroic quips need work, but the gratuitous use of a big gun shows real promise. Well done, girl.”

Ravana looked at her with contempt. In the corridor beyond the ragged remains of the doorway, red lights flashed and warning sirens wailed. She realised Nana was no longer at Kedesh’s side, then saw the grey clambering out of the transport’s hatch with a bundle of emergency oxygen masks clutched tight in its spindly fingers.

“Thraak thraak!”

“Brilliant!” said Ravana. The grey handed her a couple of masks. “Get Kedesh into the transport. I’ll go and fetch Artorius and Stripy.”

She caught a brief blur of silver out of the corner of her eye and saw that Kedesh’s watcher had disappeared once more. It was a mystery that could wait. Ravana slipped a mask over her face and hurried into the shrapnel-strewn corridor.

The door to the common room slid shut at her approach. Her headache had cleared a little and after examining the implant readings of the plasma cannon, she reduced its power to minimum, called out a suitable warning to Artorius, then stood back and blasted away the door. As the detritus settled, she was not in the least bit surprised to find the monochrome hologram of Missi waiting for her on the other side, looking more ethereal than ever at the end of its dust-streaked projector beams.

“I cannot let you take the young human,” the hologram said. “It is vital that I have time to conduct important analysis, otherwise my records will remain incomplete.”

“He’s just a little boy,” protested Ravana, her voice muffled by her mask. “He is not a scientific specimen for you to play with!”

“You are wrong,” the AI replied. “Artorius is unique and must be studied. The logical explanation for his presence is so the different experiments can be compared.”

“Artorius is not an experiment!”

The hologram hovered menacingly at the shattered door. Ravana muttered something obscene under her breath, stepped through the projection and entered the common room. Artorius and Stripy were slumped at the table, but Ravana’s immediate panic was tempered when she heard them both snoring loudly. She ran over and quickly shook the boy’s shoulder, then when that had no effect she dumped the cannon onto the table, filled a glass with water from the sink and tipped it over his head. Artorius spluttered, lifted his head and glared at her with a look of annoyed bewilderment.

“What was that for?” he complained, putting a hand to his dripping hair.