Digital Exodus Chapter 29 (Patreon)

Gloria, Jason, and Roger all suffered superficial cosmetic plate damage when we took out the remaining four turrets. We had to wait half a minute after they were done before attempting to leave our cover, and I was a little nervous that there might be other cameras in the turret network, but when David bit the bullet and stepped out, he remained perforation-free.

As soon as it was clear we could move freely in the loading area, I hurried over to David and Ed. “Show me your arms.”

I looked at Ed’s first, because the little zaps meant there was still potential for damage. When I glanced inside, I saw two things. First, one of his motors was dented and grinding as it spun, and second, that a power conduit looked like a small animal had taken a bite out of it. Water was now getting in and causing it to short periodically, which explained the spasms and random loss of control.

Reaching into my cargo pants, I pulled out a roll of electrical tape and a small can of compressed air. With his jacket shielding me and the arm from the rain, I sprayed the conduit until it was dry, then wrapped it in electrical tape. That’d do for now. I didn’t have a replacement motor, especially not a sophisticated little one matching what our bodies were using.

So, I decided to say it was good enough and check on David’s arm. “Huh,” I mumbled. “They have standard L-Dat cables transmitting data down the limbs.”

Then, without any further explanation to my friend, I blurted, “Wait here,” and I rushed off.

One of the smaller loading robots that was dutifully waiting near an empty cargo zone was my target, and as I approached I pulled a universal screwdriver out of my pocket. It was actually funny, because I hadn’t had an equivalent to one of these inside Digital Galaxies, a supposedly far-future science fiction game. What it was, in simple terms, was a screwdriver that could adjust its head to suit anything small that you needed to spin. Yes, that included non-screw related items.

“I’m really sorry, buddy,” I whispered to the robot as I crouched beside its stubby little legs. “It’s for a good cause, I promise, and your minders will fix you up after this, I’m sure of it.”

Carefully, I unscrewed a panel from its leg and looked inside. The robot didn’t even budge as I did so, which made me feel worse. It couldn’t even defend itself. Poor bot.

As luck would have it though, there was a nice long L-Dat cable inside the leg, plugged into an internal joint connector and a control board. Carefully, I switched off the control board so the leg didn’t get confused and start moving randomly, then pulled the cable free at both ends. Surgery-theft complete, I screwed the leg-plate back on and moved to leave. Then, I realised that it’d make the repair tech’s lives easier if I actually told them what the problem was, so I knelt back down, pulled out a permanent marker and wrote on the leg plate, Missing L-Dat cable. Control board switched off using the button on the board. Sorry. I needed the cable to fix my friend’s arm.

There, now I felt less shit about stealing the poor robot’s cable. The techs would fix it up in no time.

David and the rest of the crew had moved to lift one, and it looked like Rusti was walking Gloria through how to get them a data connection to the lift controls.

Trotting over to David, I waved the cable, “Got you a new one.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, surprised.

Ed, however, laughed. “Oh no, I saw you with that robot. On a scale of one to ten, how guilty do you feel for stealing the robot’s parts?”

Pouting, I ignored him and dug back into David’s arm. The two severed ends of the old cable came out, and I plugged the new one in. It was longer than the previous one, unfortunately, so it dangled a little out of the shattered cosmetic plates and framing. That, however, was fixed with some more electrical tape. In fact, I bound as much of the arm together as I could with the stuff, making it look like he had a black plastic bandage on his bicep.

My machine medic job was cut short when we heard the telltale bass hum of anti-gravity tech. Shoving my tools back into their pouches, I snatched my LMG up and turned.

Three new dropships were rapidly approaching, flanked by two drone carriers. The Crescent City SWAT logo was clearly visible on the nose of each craft. Our reprieve from their relentless assault had officially ended.

“We have more pigs coming!” Ed called towards our friends in the elevator.

When they replied, Rusti’s voice had the telltale stretched quality that came when someone was communicating from a hyper fast framerate. “Almost done!”

I wasn't sure that ‘almost done’ would be fast enough, so I lifted my machine gun and held the trigger on one of the drone carriers. The rattling cacophony of the gun was startling against the gentle sound of the rain, and I instantly smelled burnt gunpowder.

My bullets clattered harmlessly off the forward armour of my target, and it responded by launching a whole hundred-strong host of smaller gun drones. At the estimated range of 600 metres, they weren't hitting much, but the bullets still showered the concrete around us. As one, the three of us still outside the lift turned and broke for the lift.

We arrived moments later to the sound of Rusti exclaiming over comms, “Got it! Starting an emergency ascent! Hold on to your britches, folks!”

Their proclamation was followed by a loud groan from the lift's heavy doors. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, they began to close.

“Drones are five hundred metres away!” I said, informing everyone of the new estimated range.

“Oh, fuck,” Ed said, and lifted his rifle.

Oh fuck indeed. The small drone swarm was closing with the closing door at an alarming rate. They were bloody fast.

I followed Ed's lead, and along with David we began to gun down as many cheap, shitty little quadcopters as we could manage. Of course, that's when the little buggers began to dodge our bullets.

I couldn't help but continue with my range updates. “Four hundred metres!”

“Close the door faster!” David practically shrieked as he dumped a spent mag to the floor.

“This is as fast as it goes!” Rusti replied, defensively.

More bullets began to ping through the doorway as the drones allowed themselves another volley. Jason already had his humans behind the cover of a cargo crate, but his mother still shrieked in fear as small calibre slugs of lead began bouncing around the enclosed space. I didn't blame her for her fear, honestly.

“Two hundred metres!” I called, reaching what I'd probably consider my maximum capacity for alarm before it dipped into fear.

With the now sixty-strong swarm, I took a burst of bullets to my side, down near my exposed midriff. It blew chunks out of my cosmetic plates down there and I felt myself lose some range of motion as something broke.

Forced to crouch, I looked down and saw that I'd just run out of ammo… and I forgot to bring my reload from the dropship!

Dropping the now useless weapon, I looked up into the closing door. Through the still far too wide gap, I saw them.

“Fifty metres,” I said conversationally.

What followed as the doors finally slammed shut, was what I could only describe as utter drone-induced carnage. Six of the roughly fifty remaining drones made it through, which the boys dispatched using extreme prejudice and speed.

The rest of the drones… the gap in the door became just slightly too small, and so their wildly quick rotor blades shredded themselves, their host drones, and their compatriots behind them in a glorious display of violence that sprayed chunks of drone into the lift. Some of the drones still had functioning chassis, complete with weapons, and they began to fire wildly as they spun like tops on the floor.

That was when Jason's stepdad screamed.

Unlike when his mother did, this sound was real and visceral. It was the kind of sound that only a person in dire pain could make.

Ed let his gun hang by its strap, and he rushed to their position. Jason's mother was babbling with worry while Henry held his hand over the other man's gut. Blood was spilling out of him in gruesome rushes, and it was too much for me. I could fix machines, not people. I turned away and switched off my ears.

The gentle vibration of the lift's ascent began to calm me quickly, but I dared not turn my ears back on. Too much screaming—I couldn't handle it.

A hand suddenly came down gently on my shoulder, and I looked to my right. Roger was there, smiling with a calm that I don't think I'd ever achieved.

His fingers moved in a series of quick movements, and I tilted my head quizzically. A half second later, I had a file transfer request from him—Oh! A United Nations Standard Sign Language translation package. I installed it, and suddenly little floating speech bubbles popped out from his fingers.

“Don’t worry. Vaughan is in good hands,” His fingers flashed. “Ed had the forethought to bring a small medkit. It'll stabilise the guy until we're on the shuttle.”

Smiling gratefully up at our leader, I nodded my thanks. He gave me another pat on the arm, then turned and left me to my good lift vibes.