![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
"TorsoBot Island"
"TorsoBot Island"
6/28-6/29/2014
I.
A dozen men in dark metal armor surrounded the four KDF members. In the muggy afternoon sunlight through the trees, the armored men seemed more bizarre the longer one looked at them. Their legs and one arm were covered with jointed steel plating. A dull olive-green chestplate encased their torsos, but one arm on each of them had been left unarmored, covered with a tough leather sleeve and fingerless glove. Stenciled on the chest plates were white logos with black outlines, RT324 or RT112. Metal helmets covered most of their heads, ending in thick cylindrical goggles which had luminous red lenses.
But those faces below those goggles were exposed, and it was this which held the KDF members' attention in horrified fascination. The skin revealed was dry and withered, dead-looking, with lips shrunken back to reveal the grimace of exposed teeth. It was only after tearing their eyes away from those gruesome faces that the KDF team remembered that they were being covered at gunpoint. Each of the armored men held a huge automatic pistol of an unfamiliar make, connected by a lanyard to the flap holster on their hips, and all the muzzles were aimed right at the intruders.
Staying motionless, three of the team turned their gaze to Jocelyn. The tiny Australian woman nodded reassuringly. Deliberately allowing themselves to be captured had been the plan but it went against all their instincts. Jocelyn slowly raised her open hands, palms out, and her teammates followed the gesture.
From within the helmet of the nearest soldier, a thin voice could be clearly heard, "RT79, disarm the prisoners. RT23, hold the weapons he confiscates."
Immediately, two of the armored men complied. Demrak Jin stiffened as one of the soldiers unfastened the sharkhide scabbard strapped to her back and took her bone-bladed long knife. The Gelydra woman tightened her fists and made a low snarling noise that did not seem completely human.
"Stand down, Jin," Jocelyn said quietly. "You'll get it back before we're done."
"I don't like this," Jin answered. Her eyes had narrowed until they could hardly be seen, but she lowered her shoulders and allowed her weapon to be taken. The armored men removed the anesthetic dart guns which Timothy and Jocelyn were carrying, as well as the combat knives strapped to their shins. This was expected. The guns had been kept unloaded and the darts themselves were concealed in the inner lining of their field jackets to prevent an enemy fromm performing any analysis of the drug used.
So far, Timothy Limbo had been silent. He was wearing a field suit but, like Jocelyn, had left the helmet behind. His mop of bright yellow hair hung limp in the humid tropical heat. For once, the insolence had left his narrow face. Timothy seemed genuinely concerned about being held at gunpoint this way. None of his caspers had materialized.
One of the armored men seemed increasingly agitated. He moved out of position and lowered his gun. The withered face contorted and he suddenly cried, "Where's Mary? I want to talk to Mary."
From his helmet came a loud commanding voice, "RT13, override! Mandatory override! Stay on duty."
"Mary. Where's Mary? I need to know she's all right," insisted the one designated RT13. He reached up and began tugging at his helmet, unsuccessfully trying to unfasten it. "Help me, bro!"
Unexpectedly, a crackling sounded from the soldier's helmet and he twitched violently, then subsided. The command voice repeated, "Mandatory override. RT13, stay on duty."
The armored man straightened up, retrieved his automatic from where it was dangling at the end of the lanyard and pointed it at the KDF members. "Identify yourselves and your purpose," he said more calmly.
Jocelyn made a point to answer clearly and slowly. "We are members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation from New York City. We have been asked by Department 21 Black of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to investigate the unexplained activity on this island."
There was a hiss and a crackle, then the command voice in the helmets said, "All RT units, escort the prisoners to base. Respond to any attempts at escape with lethal force. Over."
"Let's play along with these guys," Jocelyn said. She had the smooth dark skin, huge thoughtful eyes and thick straight black hair of her people, but any accent had been diffused and lost over years of world travel. In the high boots, snug pants and waist-length jacket of the field suit, Jocelyn looked competent and confident despite the dangerous situation.
But then, she knew the Red Spectre coiled unseen within her slight frame, ready to burst out instantly if she allowed it.
Standing next to her, much taller at five feet eight, Haley Lawson bent her head closer and muttered, "Your little pal could tear through these freaks in a second, right?"
"Not the plan," Jocelyn answered. As the armored men moved to have three of them behind the KDF members and three in front, with a few going on ahead, the team leader shook her head at Haley. "Let's find out what the situation is first."
At nineteen, Haley was the youngest member of the new KDF team and the one most inclined to just jump into situations. Unlike Jocelyn and Timothy, she declined to wear one of the field suits unless forced to. Windcatcher had on a white long-sleeved jersey, tight blue shorts and blue sneakers with white trim. Hanging from its clasp around her neck was an ankle-length cloak of royal blue cotton which she sometimes could not resist swirling dramatically. Fastened at the clasp of this cloak was the ancient Air Gem, a pale blue jewel ensorcelled by Malberon himself ages ago and the source of her powers.
Around her narrow waist, the Windcatcher did wear a utility belt with a few pouches holding some tools and equipment, including her communications Link. Sometimes she carried one of the anesthetic dart guns in a clip-on holster on that belt, but not this time.
Sticking close to Jocelyn, Haley muttered, "So, just what ARE these goons anyway?"
Behind them, stomping angrily at being disarmed without a fight, Demrak Jin growled, "They smell dead."
II.
Despite the heat and humidity, the constant ocean breeze made conditions bearable. The four KDF members were marched by the armored men along a discernible path through the forest, up a steep hill and stopped at a point where cameras could be spotted in the trees. Jocelyn Garimara glanced back at her team and saw they were alert and ready. Even Demrak Jin had settled down to a cold anger. Below them was a gorgeous beach of white sand on which two long white concrete buildings had been constructed. An American flag flew on a post nearby, and there was a circular helicopter landing spot.
"All RTs, escort the prisoners to Loading Bay 1," came the voice from the helmet of the soldiers. The one nearest Jocelyn, the one with RT13 on his chestplate, said, "Acknowledged," and led them down toward the buildings.
As they approached the side of one the buildings, they saw a wide metal door slide up to reveal an open warehouse area facing the ocean. A Jeep with its hood raised was parked next to the ramp which led up to the loading bay, and two more of the armored men were working on the engine. They did not look up as the soldiers marched by with their prisoners.
Getting next to Jocelyn, Timothy Limbo whispered, "I've got a few of my caspers searching the area. You were right."
"No talking," barked one of the soldiers.
"These buildings are just the tip of the iceberg," Timothy continued, then hushed up as an armored man swung his automatic around.
Standing on the edge of the loading bay was a stocky, middle-aged man with bristling short white hair and a bulldog expression on a wide face. He was wearing a khaki Army uniform but oddly one with absolutely no insignia or rank on it. The man stood with hands clasped behind his back and glared furiously at the four intruders.
The uniformed man must have had a microphone on his collar because, when he spoke, his voice sounded from the soldiers' helmets. "Separate the prisoners. Detain them in holding cells one through three. But leave the black woman with me. Proceed!"
This time, it was a different armored man who hesitated, lowered his sidearm, and seemed confused. "I need to report to the sergeant," he said in a hollow sepulchral voice, "Where is Sergeant Montez? I don't understand..."
"RT 75, stay on duty!" shouted the man in uniform, bringing his fists around to hang by his sides. "You have your orders. Incarcerate the prisoners at once."
"Acknowledged," replied the soldier after a moment's hesitation. With the others, he led the four KDF members through a green metal door that unlocked itself with a buzz as they approached it. They found themselves in a brightly lit corridor with doors on either side, branching off a few yards down. The soldiers separated the KDF members and took them away in different directions.
Left behind with two of the armored men, Jocelyn Garimara turned calmly to the white-haired man who was glowering at her as if trying to decide where to strike her first. She said, "General Westcott, I believe?"
"By God, now you have made your fate certain," he snapped.
III.
"Because no one is supposed to know about your little project here? You're General Nathan C Westcott of Desert Storm fame. You're officially retired, general. What are you up to here, so near Hawaii with these poor troopers?"
Westcott opened one of the doors in the silent corridor and showed Jocelyn into a small lounge. There were comfortable chairs around a table, a coffee machine with the assortment of styrofoam cups, sugar and cream one might expect. Through a frosted glass window, sunlight poured in an angle. Sitting at that table, reading papers on a clipboard, was the first normal Human she had seen on this island except for Westcott himself. A young man in his late twenties, wearing a white lab coat over a suit, he peered up through black-rimmed glasses at the sudden intrusion.
"Make yourself scarce, son," Westcott ordered as he gestured for Jocelyn to seat herself. After the man hurried out, the general remained standing, glaring down at her. "RT91, secure the room."
"So, what does RT stand for? Robot torso?" she asked.
"Recovered Troopers." Westcott studied her. "You're not American. I believe you're an Aborigine. Australian. I've seen that facial bone structure before. How did you and your friends get out here anyway?"
"That's not important now," Jocelyn answered. "Yes, I'm an Abo, if that makes you happy to hear. This whole secluded facility with its experimental tech... I'm going to say John Grim Enterprises is involved. I was first wondering if the Mandate was involved as well, but you're US Army to the core. Is the Army making cyborgs out of soldiers now?"
"Officially, the US Army is not involved with the RTs," Westcott said. "I am retired and in theory happily lounging on the beach back in San Diego. This is all work in the shadows and echoes, young lady."
Jocelyn's dark eyes were distant, then she sat up straighter. "I think I see how it all fits together. Oh dear God, these men aren't volunteers. They were already dead when you began hooking them up to machinery."
"Yes? Go on."
"Robot zombies. Or zombie robots, whatever you prefer. I've seen some vile undertakings in my career, but this..." She could not keep anger from her voice.
"TorsoBots. Some of the researchers started referring to them as TorsoBots and the name stuck. We keep the torso with most of its internal organs, the head and brain as intact as feasible, and we keep one organic arm. The prosthetic arms are incredibly powerful and resistant to damage but the robot hands still lack the finer dexterity of flesh and blood." General Westcott had leaned in close to Jocelyn, gloating, his breath smelling of cigars.
The Australian woman did not seem intimidated in the least, but then she had always been good at keeping a poker face. "The robot legs and one arm are faster, stronger, with more endurance than real flesh and blood. Your.. TorsoBots can run all day in the desert sun or a snowstorm without tiring. I can see why the Army might think this is worth desecrating corpses of men who served honorably!"
Westcott snorted. "I've heard a bit about your KDF. The Kenneth Dred Foundation. It used to be run by a guy named Jeremy Bane, the Dire Wolf, and he was responsible for the death of John Grim himself. The son, Alexander, runs the empire now and he's all right but he's not the genius his father was." The general moved back and stared down at his captive with barely restrained glee. "Department 21 Black regards the KDF as expendable freelancers, they always have."
"And your point would be?"
"No one will come looking for your team when you don't report," Westcott told her coldly. ""You'll be written off. Maybe another department of the FBI will send a few agents nosing around, maybe not. But at least you and your team will have contributed to the body of knowledge John Grim Enterprises has amassed."
Now Jocelyn could not bear to sit any longer. She stood up and met Westcott's stare evenly. "General, you don't deserve a warning but I'm going to give you one anyway."
"You're going to warn ME?"
"And you'll live to regret ignoring it," she said as calmly as if she was discussing the weather. "I'm giving you a fair go. My team and I are going to tear this island apart and destroy everyone on it, living or unliving."
"Ha! And I'm telling you now what's really going to happen. All your famous gadgets and devices will be analyzed and back-engineered. We'll find the black helicopter you're rumored to use and it'll be ours. And you'll talk. Simple torture or drugs, whatever works, you'll tell us everything you know. We will break you."
"You can try," she said, and started for the door. The TorsoBot moved into her way, his robotic hand whirring down to close its fingers around his weapon.
Westcott barked out an order which repeated itself from the cyborg's helmet. "RT91, incarcerate her in an empty cell next to the others. Strip her down and bring her belongings to the main lab for Dr Mornay to examine. Proceed."
In the open doorway, with her arm in the unbreakable grip of the armored soldier, Jocelyn Garimara paused to give Westcott a chilly stare. "We'll only meet again once."
IV.
In a concrete cell which held only a sleeping bench protruding from one wall with a single blanket and pillow, a toilet and stainless steel sink, no window but only a rectangular air vent in the ceiling, Jocelyn turned around slowly. She was wearing only the flexible Trom armor which looked like wet silk and which left only her head, hands and feet exposed. The paramagnetic seams which held it closed were beyond the ability to the TorsoBots to comprehend. They had taken all her other clothes, though.
Light came from flourescent tubes in the ceiling, covered with tough plastic housing. She checked the cell and concluded reluctantly that everything was new and secure. There was a thick plexiglass panel at face height in the door, so that the guards could look in on her, and there was a wide panel at the base of the door which could not be opened from the inside. This was presumably to admit food trays.
Jocelyn sighed and went over to drop down on the sleeping bench. She thought it likely that her team would be kept waiting for the next day or so without being questioned or fed in an attempt to stir up anxiety in them. The thought made her smile. These fools hadn't dealt with Tel Shai knights before.
Opening the collar seam on her flexible armor an inch, Jocelyn folded it over to reveal a metal tab with a single round button. These communicators were something new devised by their Trom Girl, and their range was limited but everyone had agreed they were worth including in the suits. She pressed down on the button and spoke in a low voice, "Jocelyn here. I'm good. Let's have a roll call."
"Jin here," came the Ulgoran woman's voice. "Unharmed, captain. But they took my clothing and weapons!"
"How many enemy did it take to do that?" Jocelyn asked.
"Four. Even so, I broke the nose on one."
"Okay. Windcatcher?"
"I'm fine," said Haley's voice from the metal tab. "They got me down to my Trom armor but they have no idea how to unfasten it. They did take my cloak and what they THINK is the Air Gem, ha ha."
"Stand by. Timothy, I expect you have some recon for us?"
"You bet, Jocelyn, my caspers have been busy. The buildings we've seen are just the beginning, there are barracks and training grounds nearby under camoflauge netting. I've seen at least forty of these robot dudes and I bet there are three times as many not out in the open. We're up against superior numbers."
"The tentative name for these enemes is TorsoBots. They're Human bodies with two-third cybernetic replacements. It explains what's going on here. The John Grim organization is experimenting with robotic super-soldiers." Jocelyn made an exasperated sound. "Here's the immediate plan. We make a break for it. I'll use the Red Spectre to smash through our cells. We get outside and head for the CORBY. Then we'll have fresh outfits and weapons and the CORBY itself to work with."
"Sounds good," Haley answered through the collar tab.
"Fine," said Jocelyn, "But, Windcatcher.. once we're out in the open, I need you to provide distraction. The biggest distraction you can whip up, understood?"
"Sure thing, Hurricane Haley coming up."
"Everybody, flatten up against the wall of your cell away from the door. I'm letting the Red Spectre out."
Jocelyn Garimara leaned back against the concrete wall behind her and closed her eyes. Within her slim body, only an inch over five feet tall, was housed one of the most powerful and mysterious phenomena of the Midnight War. It had first manifested when she reached puberty and had almost caused her to be killed by her own family as a witch. Jocelyn relaxed and a crackling dark red blur shot out from her chest to hover in mid-air in front of her. Her Gammon was an outline of energy the same general size and shape as her body, with no visible features. Its head swung inquisitively back at her as asking for approval. Then, without touching down, the Red Spectre flashed at the cell door like channeled lightning, blowing the door off its hinges with a sharp cracking noise.
Jocelyn struggled to get to her feet, then walked stiffly toward the opening where the door had been. So much of her life force was tied up with her Gammon that its appearances left her weak. From out in the hall came three more explosions as the Specre blasted through the cells bordering hers. The Australian woman braced herself with a hand on each edge of the doorway, looking out in the hall. Her teammates were rushing to help her.
Timothy helped prop her up as the dark form hissed through the air and slid smoothly back into her body. That restored some vitality to her. "Hurry," she said, "we have to get outside."
"You all right there?" asked Timothy, reluctantly letting her stand on her own.
"I'm a bit knackered," she said, "But I'll be right in a minute. Haley! Get that door, it leads outside."
Swinging to face a door with a metal bar across it, with the late afternoon sun showing through a small glass panel, Windcatcher grinned. "Sure. Listen, everyone open your mouths and cover your ears!" She pressed her hand to her throat, where the real Air Gem was fastened under the Trom armor. The supposed talisman worn on her costume cape was actually just a blue tourmaline she had bought at a crystal shop but it had served to mislead many an enemy into thinking she had been disarmed.
Drawing on the Gem's properties, Haley Lawson siphoned away the air on the other side of the door, creating a near vacuum outside. She had to hold the low pressure area intact so that surrounding air did not rush in to replace it. At the same time, Windcatcher drew all the air in the long corridor down into a dense mass against the side of the door facing her. This trick of creating two effects at the same time had been something she had only mastered through long practice and still did not always work.
For a few seconds, her teammates were extremely uncomfortable. If they had not been warned, most likely a few would have suffered ruptured eardrums. Then, with a crash, the door flew outward with its locks snapping and an alarm went off.
"Run for the CORBY!" ordered Jocelyn. "Haley, give us cover."
"You got it," Haley laughed, summoning winds from the edge of a tornado somewhere in Texas. In an instant, she was swept up out of sight. Her three teammates took off at full pelt, across the tarmac and into the bordering forest as dozens of the armored TorsoBots started appearing.
IV.
Rising up like a missile, Haley Lawson leveled off at a thousand feet. She looked down at the island and decided that the air was already hot and humid enough for her purposes. Concentrating, drawing on her full ability to tap the Air Gem, she summoned a mass of frigid Arctic air from somewhere in northern Alaska to slam down on the muggy air already in place. Dark clouds formed instantly, there was flickering lightning, and heavy rains poured down on the island within seconds.
Not enough. Still holding herself up over the new cloud cover, Windcatcher summoned another layer of tropical air from Brazil and then hit it with a mass of subzero air from Antartica. At her best, she had been known to bring just over a cubic mile of air to her location from anywhere in the world. But, at the moment, some of her concentration was diverted to keeping her aloft and she could manage little more than half her limit.
Still, it was more than enough. The downpour was hitting the island with immense force. The winds were increasing. The storm was building by itself now. She couldn't even see through it. There, she thought, that should slow those so-called TorsoBots up a bit. Carefully, Haley swung her body around and propelled herself down at a shallow angle. She was used to flying with the cape, its edges were weighted and the fabric was stiff enough that it was useful to help steer her flight. When she descended down into the thunderstorm itself, she had trouble manuevering and had a few terrifying moments where she almost lost control.
Whipping along to where the CORBY had been concealed six miles from the installation, she hated getting soaked this way. Her hair was in her eyes and water got up her nose, but she had no choice. The life of a Tel Shai knight, she reminded herself, dropping down to treetop level.
The rain pounded down savagely, bending tree branches down and forming huge puddles and rivulets. Twigs and leaves were swirling in all directions from gale force winds tearing them loose. This was the biggest storm she had ever created, and she was a little worried it was already out of control. Swooping down low, only a dozen feet off the ground, Windcatcher caught sight of her three friends running in a tight cluster. She sped up a bit and got ahead of them, touching down in an awkward stumble on the slippery mud.
"Hey, you guys!" she sang out cheerfully with a huge grin.
"My God, Haley, is this YOUR doing?" yelled Timothy Limbo with genuine anger. "Are you trying to kill us? This is one step away from being a full-fledged hurricane!"
"Well, you are so welcome," she replied as she started running alongside them. "I was supposed to provide a distraction and that's just what I did. You notice none of the TorsoBots are chasing you?"
Timothy grunted. "Maybe next time, try to keep it just under Biblical disaster level, sweetie."
"There's the CORBY, right where we left it," Jocelyn shouted. Between a grouping of four palm trees, hidden under a jungle-green tarp fastened down by pegs driven into the ground, stood the familiar shape of the stealth copter. In another instant, they had reached it and the team started to unfasten the tarp but Jocelyn stopped them.
"No, wait!" she ordered, "Leave it covered for protection. Just get one corner up to wiggle under. Everyone get in the rear compartment, we don't want this rain flooding the cockpit." As her friends slid open the hatch on the side of the fuselage and climbed in, Jocelyn did not immediately follow. She opened a rear storage hatch and yanked out four knapsacks. She had to drop them on the muddy ground to close the hatch again but managed to do that and then tossed the knapsacks into the passenger compartment before leaping in herself. When she fastened the hatch behind her, the thunder and rainfall din softened to background noise.
The passenger compartment of the CORBY was separated from the cockpit by a sliding plastic divider, so even though the metal floor they dropped down on was soaking, the cockpit remained secure. There was a metal bench that sat two members comfortably and enough room on the floor for three more people but with the added knapsacks, things were a bit crowded at the moment. The opposite wall did not have a hatch but was taken up by a metal cabinet of equipment drawers.
While the others still had their Trom armor on, Demrak Jin was completely naked. She had been wearing her Ulgor war suit of sharkhide tunic and pants with the abrasive side out, and the soldiers had confiscated that. Jin's pale body showed the sleek, hard muscles from a lifetime of swimming in the ocean and being drenched did not bother her. Nor did she seem embarassed by nudity at all. Many of her Ulgor values didn't line up with the usual Western mores. She would be more ashamed at showing fear than showing her body.
"Hey, you thought to bring in our gear," Timothy suddenly noticed. "Good thinking, Jocelyn."
"You can see why she's the team leader when Sable's not here," agreed Haley. She was wringing out her long auburn hair and adding to the layer of water on the floor. "Listen, I got an idea."
"Not another hurricane," said Timothy.
"No, no, listen. I can bring in warm dry air from, oh... Arizona? The low humidity will dry us off and the moisture can leave through the CORBY's one-way vents."
"Go for it," Jocelyn said. "I don't think we have any towels in our knapsacks. I know I didn't pack any and I sure don't want to go back out and get some from the rear compartment."
In a minute, the air in the compartment had become pleasantly dry and snug. They could see the water evaporate off the floor and their bodies. Even their hair dried quickly. Before they got dressed, though, Jocelyn unsnapped the largest medical kit from its position high up on the wall. All of them had bloody, lacerated feet. Running for miles through the woods without shoes had left them with painfully cut up soles. The Neosporin cream, adhesive bandage pads and white surgical tape were passed around and there was considerable wincing and bad language. With their enhanced healing factor from the Tel Shai tagra diet, their feet would be fine in a few hours but they still were subject to pain and discomfort.
Getting the spare field suits out of their knapsacks and climbing into the clothing was complicated by the cramped quarters and they quickly agreed to do it one at a time. Eventually, they were all wearing fresh duplicates of the outfits they had on when they first had landed on the island. Haley even had a second, shorter cloak with a blue tourmaline at its clasp.
The only item missing was the bone-handled knife which Demrak Jin normally wore. Her pug face was usually sullen but now it looked so forlorn that even Timothy could not bear to tease her. Instead, he gave her the seven-inch combat knife from his field suit, and she gratefully strapped it to her own leg.
"Thank you, Timothy," she said, showing a courtesy so rare for her that everyone smiled at the gesture.
"Now we just wait out the storm," Jocelyn announced, getting up on the bench to take the spot that Jin had just vacated. "Unless you can make it go away, Haley?"
"Welllll, actually that's the part I haven't figured out yet," she admitted.
V.
By ten that night, the storm had eased up to scattered drizzle. Inside the CORBY, the team had dug into a cooler packed with bottled water, film-wrapped sandwiches and high-energy protein bars and then settled down to wait. Timothy and Haley had dug out a battered deck of cards from his knapsack and started a game of 21, while Demrak Jin had curled up in a corner and napped for a few hours.
Climbing through the divider into the pilot seat, Jocelyn Garimara had been listening to the satellite radio through headphones. NOAA and local weather reports from the big island of the Hawaiian chain were in an uproar over an unexpected tropical storm that had begun without warning that afternoon. The reports stated that at least the storm had hit on unoccupied smaller islands far out on the chain and no loss of life was expected.
"Tropical Storm Haley," Jocelyn Garimara said to herself. The more Haley Lawson experimented and improvised with her air-summoning ability, the more Jocelyn realized just how dangerous Windcatcher could be. At some point, the young woman might inadvertently create a major disaster over populated areas if they weren't careful.
Sliding open the divider behind the cockpit, the team leader squeezed back into the rear compartment to find Timothy Limbo sitting with two of his caspers hovering in front of him. Barely visible under the best circumstances, they looked like tiny whirlwinds a few inches long. No one knew if they were independent energy beings who had attached themselves to him or if they were manifestations of gralic force created by his subconscious mind. There seemed to be no way to find out for sure.
"Thanks, you guys," Timothy said. "Good work." The caspers blinked out of existence like soap bubbles popping and he turned to find everyone staring at him. "It's ugly out there. Half the island is flooded neck high. There are dead TorsoBots lying in water all over. You can't expect guys with two-third of their bodies replaced with solid metal to swim very well. Trees are down. The installation is dark, I guess the generators gave out during the storm and I don't see anybody moving on the grounds. It's a disaster."
Haley Lawson said, "Why is everybody giving me that look? We were unarmed and being chased by an army of killer robot zombies or don't you remember?"
From the cockpit, Jocelyn leaned closer. "It's for the best. Nobody was on the island except the TorsoBots and the criminal scientists creating them. Maybe the John Grim organization will take a hint and discontinue the project." She took a deep breath, then added, "Now we have to see for ourselves. In particular, General Westcott has to be accounted for."
Timothy Limbo got up and slid open the hatch behind him. Hot humid air flooded in, making them all frown at the change. The four KDF members removed the tarp from the CORBY, folded it and stowed it carefully in the rear storage area. They spent half an hour inspecting the copter for any damage and were relieved to find none. A palm tree had crashed down twenty feet away during the storm but luckily the CORBY was untouched. Another half hour went into warming the craft up, checking the systems and making sure they had a clear access to rise. Finally, everyone was strapped in place, with Jocelyn behind the control sticks. Timothy Limbo sat in the co-pilot seat and sent a casper ahead to scout out the area for any signs of surviving TorsoBots.
The main rotors turned, speeding up gradually. The CORBY did not have tail rotors but instead two vertical vanes on the tail that helped correct by high pressure air. As the craft rose smoothly upward, it showed no external lights or any insignia or markings. The KDF broke a dozen laws and regulations every time one of their stealth copters left the ground.
Jocelyn flew slowly, just above treetop level, surveying the storm damage. It was heavily overcast and the island was dark but the Trom sensors converted feedback from microwave projectors into a visual image on the windscreen. Much of the island was underwater now. Bodies of the armored men showed where the new ponds and rivers had lowered enough to reveal them, since the TorsoBots were too heavy to float.
"Looks like a war zone," Timothy observed.
"Yes. And the TorsoBots were meant to be weapons of war," Jocelyn replied. "You could say their deaths are appropriate in an ironic way."
"There's the facility!" Haley said from the back compartment, leaning forward past Jocelyn's shoulder. "Not a light on."
"My boys don't spot any active TorsoBots," Timothy said. "That's odd. You'd think some of them would be kept inside as security during the storm."
"There could still be an ambush ready." Jocelyn swung the CORBY around to circle the installation. The American flag was tattered from the high winds and debris littered the grounds but nothing moved. "Everyone keep watch. I'm going to touch down on the helipad."
As the CORBY lowered its landing gear and silently set down, rotors slowing, Timothy said, "My caspers found one TorsoBot still alive. He's sort of just sitting on the steps in the back, maybe he's hurt."
"As long as he can answer questions," Jocelyn said, powering down the Trom impulse engines.
"I guarantee he will talk," Demrak Jin offered, fingering the hilt of the long knife strapped to her thigh.
"I don't have to tell everyone to be alert," the Australian woman said as she unstrapped herself from the restraints. She popped open the hatch to her right and hopped out. The tarmac was covered with water half an inch deep and there were wide puddles all around. Broken tree branches and stray pieces of the building were scattered about.
Forming a loose circle with Demrak Jin in the rear watching behind them, they strode around the building and found one of the TorsoBots hunched over at the top of the steps leading up to wide double doors. As they approached, the soldier slowly raised his head. He still wore his helmet but he had managed to wrench the goggles off. Through deepset cloudy eyes surrounded by black circles, the TorsoBot watched them approach and made no move for his weapon.
"I remember everything," he said in a normal voice, not the hollow tones they had heard from TorsoBots so far. "Sergeant First Class Henry Walter Strubel. What's the date today?"
"June 28, 2014," answered Jocelyn.
"Cripes. The last I remember was just before Christmas 2009. That filthy bastard Westcott brought me here illegally, claimed it was special orders from the top. I found out I was listed as AWOL. My wife Mary was seven months pregnant. Oh God help me. Our son would be five years old today." His voice broke and he got hold of himself. "Not that it matters, I'll never see either of them."
Jocelyn stepped closer. "Henry. Henry, where is General Westcott now?"
The TorsoBot gestured behind him. In the open doorway, a pair of boots could be seen on the floor, toes down. "I emptied a clip into his stinking face. He's not a pretty sight, lady."
"Are there any other of the RTs still active?"
"Not that I know of. Most of them went out into the storm and didn't come back. Some went haywire and started shooting up themselves and each other. I think the goddam orders were scrambled by the storm. I stopped getting instructions in my helmet and eventually my own thoughts come back." He rose to his feet, staring down at the KDF members below him. "I don't know you people. Goverment investigators?"
"We're civilian consultants," Jocelyn answered. "The Recovery Troops, what was that all about? Was it authorized by the Pentagon?"
"No, it was completely a rogue operation. Westcott began it before his retirement and later he started working with these John Grim lunatics. First, they were using bodies of soldiers killed in action. They froze the poor losers and brought them here to be rebuilt. It turned out they got better results the fresher the bodies were. Which makes sense."
The KDF team had drawn closer, not completely lowering their guard but fascinated by the story the TorsoBot was telling. "Wait," Haley blurted out, "You were brought here alive. You don't mean...?"
"Yep. The bastards strapped me to an operating table and killed me. Lethal injection. Westcott said he deliberately waited eight minutes before starting revival procedures. I gradually came to consciousness, if you can call it that, in this stupid mechanical body. We were supposed to be the next generation of super-soldiers but nothing ever worked right. We kept disobeying orders and wandering off as our memories insisted on returning." The armored man lowered his head again. "I don't know what you people plan on doing here. It doesn't matter to me. I don't have much time."
"What do you mean?"
"I set my battery pack to discharge," said the former Henry Strubel. "It'll run down over the next eighteen hours. Then I'll be dead again. Hopefully for good."
"Is that what you want?" asked Jocelyn.
"It's all I want! Don't you understand? I come from a military family in Alabama. I was proud to serve my country. And look what they did to me. Not alive, not dead, not a man, not a machine..."
A yellow and green bird flew overhead, squawking. The TorsoBot watched it go by. "Life goes on. For others, I guess."
"Henry, we are going to go through this facility and destroy all its records," Jocelyn said, quietly holstering her gun. "All the computers and their back-ups and their detachable hard drives. All the journals and notes and memos. Maybe this will prevent this sort of thing from happening again."
"I'll help with that," the soldier said. "I know the layout here. Come on, there will be a lot to uncover."
That night and the next morning were spent searching the facility and thoroughly destroying every bit of the records they could find. They discovered their outfits, the field suits and weapons and gadgets, in a lab and Timothy hauled the bundle back to the CORBY for storage. Demrak Jin was delighted to find her long blade and she strapped it gleefully across her back before returning to survival knife to Tim. The fire the team built outside from broken furniture and bits of wood consumed thousands of pages containing the secrets of the Recovered Troops project.
By that afternoon, Henry Strubel had begun moving slower and slower. He went off by himself without explanation and Jocelyn told her teammates to let him go. By that time, the stench of the decaying TorsoBots rotting in the hot sun was getting intolerable. Even fresh air summoned in by Haley only helped for a short time. They were nearly done with their task when the sole surviving TorsoBot haltingly returned, using a shovel as a walking stick.
"Come with me," he said simply and led them a few dozen yards into the woods. He had dug a hole six feet long, three feet wide and six feet deep. The moist soil was piled up to one side. "My readout tells me I have four minutes left. Can I count on you to do the right thing?"
"Absolutely," Jocelyn said in a choked voice. "You deserve what respect we can show you."
Without another word, the TorsoBot fell rather than jumped down into the grave he had dug for himself. He managed to straighten out on his back, arms down at his sides, and took a few more unsteady struggling breaths. The helmeted head fell to one side and the jaw sagged open.
"Rest in peace," said Jocelyn as she picked up the shovel. They took turns filling in the grave.
8/28/2016
6/28-6/29/2014
I.
A dozen men in dark metal armor surrounded the four KDF members. In the muggy afternoon sunlight through the trees, the armored men seemed more bizarre the longer one looked at them. Their legs and one arm were covered with jointed steel plating. A dull olive-green chestplate encased their torsos, but one arm on each of them had been left unarmored, covered with a tough leather sleeve and fingerless glove. Stenciled on the chest plates were white logos with black outlines, RT324 or RT112. Metal helmets covered most of their heads, ending in thick cylindrical goggles which had luminous red lenses.
But those faces below those goggles were exposed, and it was this which held the KDF members' attention in horrified fascination. The skin revealed was dry and withered, dead-looking, with lips shrunken back to reveal the grimace of exposed teeth. It was only after tearing their eyes away from those gruesome faces that the KDF team remembered that they were being covered at gunpoint. Each of the armored men held a huge automatic pistol of an unfamiliar make, connected by a lanyard to the flap holster on their hips, and all the muzzles were aimed right at the intruders.
Staying motionless, three of the team turned their gaze to Jocelyn. The tiny Australian woman nodded reassuringly. Deliberately allowing themselves to be captured had been the plan but it went against all their instincts. Jocelyn slowly raised her open hands, palms out, and her teammates followed the gesture.
From within the helmet of the nearest soldier, a thin voice could be clearly heard, "RT79, disarm the prisoners. RT23, hold the weapons he confiscates."
Immediately, two of the armored men complied. Demrak Jin stiffened as one of the soldiers unfastened the sharkhide scabbard strapped to her back and took her bone-bladed long knife. The Gelydra woman tightened her fists and made a low snarling noise that did not seem completely human.
"Stand down, Jin," Jocelyn said quietly. "You'll get it back before we're done."
"I don't like this," Jin answered. Her eyes had narrowed until they could hardly be seen, but she lowered her shoulders and allowed her weapon to be taken. The armored men removed the anesthetic dart guns which Timothy and Jocelyn were carrying, as well as the combat knives strapped to their shins. This was expected. The guns had been kept unloaded and the darts themselves were concealed in the inner lining of their field jackets to prevent an enemy fromm performing any analysis of the drug used.
So far, Timothy Limbo had been silent. He was wearing a field suit but, like Jocelyn, had left the helmet behind. His mop of bright yellow hair hung limp in the humid tropical heat. For once, the insolence had left his narrow face. Timothy seemed genuinely concerned about being held at gunpoint this way. None of his caspers had materialized.
One of the armored men seemed increasingly agitated. He moved out of position and lowered his gun. The withered face contorted and he suddenly cried, "Where's Mary? I want to talk to Mary."
From his helmet came a loud commanding voice, "RT13, override! Mandatory override! Stay on duty."
"Mary. Where's Mary? I need to know she's all right," insisted the one designated RT13. He reached up and began tugging at his helmet, unsuccessfully trying to unfasten it. "Help me, bro!"
Unexpectedly, a crackling sounded from the soldier's helmet and he twitched violently, then subsided. The command voice repeated, "Mandatory override. RT13, stay on duty."
The armored man straightened up, retrieved his automatic from where it was dangling at the end of the lanyard and pointed it at the KDF members. "Identify yourselves and your purpose," he said more calmly.
Jocelyn made a point to answer clearly and slowly. "We are members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation from New York City. We have been asked by Department 21 Black of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to investigate the unexplained activity on this island."
There was a hiss and a crackle, then the command voice in the helmets said, "All RT units, escort the prisoners to base. Respond to any attempts at escape with lethal force. Over."
"Let's play along with these guys," Jocelyn said. She had the smooth dark skin, huge thoughtful eyes and thick straight black hair of her people, but any accent had been diffused and lost over years of world travel. In the high boots, snug pants and waist-length jacket of the field suit, Jocelyn looked competent and confident despite the dangerous situation.
But then, she knew the Red Spectre coiled unseen within her slight frame, ready to burst out instantly if she allowed it.
Standing next to her, much taller at five feet eight, Haley Lawson bent her head closer and muttered, "Your little pal could tear through these freaks in a second, right?"
"Not the plan," Jocelyn answered. As the armored men moved to have three of them behind the KDF members and three in front, with a few going on ahead, the team leader shook her head at Haley. "Let's find out what the situation is first."
At nineteen, Haley was the youngest member of the new KDF team and the one most inclined to just jump into situations. Unlike Jocelyn and Timothy, she declined to wear one of the field suits unless forced to. Windcatcher had on a white long-sleeved jersey, tight blue shorts and blue sneakers with white trim. Hanging from its clasp around her neck was an ankle-length cloak of royal blue cotton which she sometimes could not resist swirling dramatically. Fastened at the clasp of this cloak was the ancient Air Gem, a pale blue jewel ensorcelled by Malberon himself ages ago and the source of her powers.
Around her narrow waist, the Windcatcher did wear a utility belt with a few pouches holding some tools and equipment, including her communications Link. Sometimes she carried one of the anesthetic dart guns in a clip-on holster on that belt, but not this time.
Sticking close to Jocelyn, Haley muttered, "So, just what ARE these goons anyway?"
Behind them, stomping angrily at being disarmed without a fight, Demrak Jin growled, "They smell dead."
II.
Despite the heat and humidity, the constant ocean breeze made conditions bearable. The four KDF members were marched by the armored men along a discernible path through the forest, up a steep hill and stopped at a point where cameras could be spotted in the trees. Jocelyn Garimara glanced back at her team and saw they were alert and ready. Even Demrak Jin had settled down to a cold anger. Below them was a gorgeous beach of white sand on which two long white concrete buildings had been constructed. An American flag flew on a post nearby, and there was a circular helicopter landing spot.
"All RTs, escort the prisoners to Loading Bay 1," came the voice from the helmet of the soldiers. The one nearest Jocelyn, the one with RT13 on his chestplate, said, "Acknowledged," and led them down toward the buildings.
As they approached the side of one the buildings, they saw a wide metal door slide up to reveal an open warehouse area facing the ocean. A Jeep with its hood raised was parked next to the ramp which led up to the loading bay, and two more of the armored men were working on the engine. They did not look up as the soldiers marched by with their prisoners.
Getting next to Jocelyn, Timothy Limbo whispered, "I've got a few of my caspers searching the area. You were right."
"No talking," barked one of the soldiers.
"These buildings are just the tip of the iceberg," Timothy continued, then hushed up as an armored man swung his automatic around.
Standing on the edge of the loading bay was a stocky, middle-aged man with bristling short white hair and a bulldog expression on a wide face. He was wearing a khaki Army uniform but oddly one with absolutely no insignia or rank on it. The man stood with hands clasped behind his back and glared furiously at the four intruders.
The uniformed man must have had a microphone on his collar because, when he spoke, his voice sounded from the soldiers' helmets. "Separate the prisoners. Detain them in holding cells one through three. But leave the black woman with me. Proceed!"
This time, it was a different armored man who hesitated, lowered his sidearm, and seemed confused. "I need to report to the sergeant," he said in a hollow sepulchral voice, "Where is Sergeant Montez? I don't understand..."
"RT 75, stay on duty!" shouted the man in uniform, bringing his fists around to hang by his sides. "You have your orders. Incarcerate the prisoners at once."
"Acknowledged," replied the soldier after a moment's hesitation. With the others, he led the four KDF members through a green metal door that unlocked itself with a buzz as they approached it. They found themselves in a brightly lit corridor with doors on either side, branching off a few yards down. The soldiers separated the KDF members and took them away in different directions.
Left behind with two of the armored men, Jocelyn Garimara turned calmly to the white-haired man who was glowering at her as if trying to decide where to strike her first. She said, "General Westcott, I believe?"
"By God, now you have made your fate certain," he snapped.
III.
"Because no one is supposed to know about your little project here? You're General Nathan C Westcott of Desert Storm fame. You're officially retired, general. What are you up to here, so near Hawaii with these poor troopers?"
Westcott opened one of the doors in the silent corridor and showed Jocelyn into a small lounge. There were comfortable chairs around a table, a coffee machine with the assortment of styrofoam cups, sugar and cream one might expect. Through a frosted glass window, sunlight poured in an angle. Sitting at that table, reading papers on a clipboard, was the first normal Human she had seen on this island except for Westcott himself. A young man in his late twenties, wearing a white lab coat over a suit, he peered up through black-rimmed glasses at the sudden intrusion.
"Make yourself scarce, son," Westcott ordered as he gestured for Jocelyn to seat herself. After the man hurried out, the general remained standing, glaring down at her. "RT91, secure the room."
"So, what does RT stand for? Robot torso?" she asked.
"Recovered Troopers." Westcott studied her. "You're not American. I believe you're an Aborigine. Australian. I've seen that facial bone structure before. How did you and your friends get out here anyway?"
"That's not important now," Jocelyn answered. "Yes, I'm an Abo, if that makes you happy to hear. This whole secluded facility with its experimental tech... I'm going to say John Grim Enterprises is involved. I was first wondering if the Mandate was involved as well, but you're US Army to the core. Is the Army making cyborgs out of soldiers now?"
"Officially, the US Army is not involved with the RTs," Westcott said. "I am retired and in theory happily lounging on the beach back in San Diego. This is all work in the shadows and echoes, young lady."
Jocelyn's dark eyes were distant, then she sat up straighter. "I think I see how it all fits together. Oh dear God, these men aren't volunteers. They were already dead when you began hooking them up to machinery."
"Yes? Go on."
"Robot zombies. Or zombie robots, whatever you prefer. I've seen some vile undertakings in my career, but this..." She could not keep anger from her voice.
"TorsoBots. Some of the researchers started referring to them as TorsoBots and the name stuck. We keep the torso with most of its internal organs, the head and brain as intact as feasible, and we keep one organic arm. The prosthetic arms are incredibly powerful and resistant to damage but the robot hands still lack the finer dexterity of flesh and blood." General Westcott had leaned in close to Jocelyn, gloating, his breath smelling of cigars.
The Australian woman did not seem intimidated in the least, but then she had always been good at keeping a poker face. "The robot legs and one arm are faster, stronger, with more endurance than real flesh and blood. Your.. TorsoBots can run all day in the desert sun or a snowstorm without tiring. I can see why the Army might think this is worth desecrating corpses of men who served honorably!"
Westcott snorted. "I've heard a bit about your KDF. The Kenneth Dred Foundation. It used to be run by a guy named Jeremy Bane, the Dire Wolf, and he was responsible for the death of John Grim himself. The son, Alexander, runs the empire now and he's all right but he's not the genius his father was." The general moved back and stared down at his captive with barely restrained glee. "Department 21 Black regards the KDF as expendable freelancers, they always have."
"And your point would be?"
"No one will come looking for your team when you don't report," Westcott told her coldly. ""You'll be written off. Maybe another department of the FBI will send a few agents nosing around, maybe not. But at least you and your team will have contributed to the body of knowledge John Grim Enterprises has amassed."
Now Jocelyn could not bear to sit any longer. She stood up and met Westcott's stare evenly. "General, you don't deserve a warning but I'm going to give you one anyway."
"You're going to warn ME?"
"And you'll live to regret ignoring it," she said as calmly as if she was discussing the weather. "I'm giving you a fair go. My team and I are going to tear this island apart and destroy everyone on it, living or unliving."
"Ha! And I'm telling you now what's really going to happen. All your famous gadgets and devices will be analyzed and back-engineered. We'll find the black helicopter you're rumored to use and it'll be ours. And you'll talk. Simple torture or drugs, whatever works, you'll tell us everything you know. We will break you."
"You can try," she said, and started for the door. The TorsoBot moved into her way, his robotic hand whirring down to close its fingers around his weapon.
Westcott barked out an order which repeated itself from the cyborg's helmet. "RT91, incarcerate her in an empty cell next to the others. Strip her down and bring her belongings to the main lab for Dr Mornay to examine. Proceed."
In the open doorway, with her arm in the unbreakable grip of the armored soldier, Jocelyn Garimara paused to give Westcott a chilly stare. "We'll only meet again once."
IV.
In a concrete cell which held only a sleeping bench protruding from one wall with a single blanket and pillow, a toilet and stainless steel sink, no window but only a rectangular air vent in the ceiling, Jocelyn turned around slowly. She was wearing only the flexible Trom armor which looked like wet silk and which left only her head, hands and feet exposed. The paramagnetic seams which held it closed were beyond the ability to the TorsoBots to comprehend. They had taken all her other clothes, though.
Light came from flourescent tubes in the ceiling, covered with tough plastic housing. She checked the cell and concluded reluctantly that everything was new and secure. There was a thick plexiglass panel at face height in the door, so that the guards could look in on her, and there was a wide panel at the base of the door which could not be opened from the inside. This was presumably to admit food trays.
Jocelyn sighed and went over to drop down on the sleeping bench. She thought it likely that her team would be kept waiting for the next day or so without being questioned or fed in an attempt to stir up anxiety in them. The thought made her smile. These fools hadn't dealt with Tel Shai knights before.
Opening the collar seam on her flexible armor an inch, Jocelyn folded it over to reveal a metal tab with a single round button. These communicators were something new devised by their Trom Girl, and their range was limited but everyone had agreed they were worth including in the suits. She pressed down on the button and spoke in a low voice, "Jocelyn here. I'm good. Let's have a roll call."
"Jin here," came the Ulgoran woman's voice. "Unharmed, captain. But they took my clothing and weapons!"
"How many enemy did it take to do that?" Jocelyn asked.
"Four. Even so, I broke the nose on one."
"Okay. Windcatcher?"
"I'm fine," said Haley's voice from the metal tab. "They got me down to my Trom armor but they have no idea how to unfasten it. They did take my cloak and what they THINK is the Air Gem, ha ha."
"Stand by. Timothy, I expect you have some recon for us?"
"You bet, Jocelyn, my caspers have been busy. The buildings we've seen are just the beginning, there are barracks and training grounds nearby under camoflauge netting. I've seen at least forty of these robot dudes and I bet there are three times as many not out in the open. We're up against superior numbers."
"The tentative name for these enemes is TorsoBots. They're Human bodies with two-third cybernetic replacements. It explains what's going on here. The John Grim organization is experimenting with robotic super-soldiers." Jocelyn made an exasperated sound. "Here's the immediate plan. We make a break for it. I'll use the Red Spectre to smash through our cells. We get outside and head for the CORBY. Then we'll have fresh outfits and weapons and the CORBY itself to work with."
"Sounds good," Haley answered through the collar tab.
"Fine," said Jocelyn, "But, Windcatcher.. once we're out in the open, I need you to provide distraction. The biggest distraction you can whip up, understood?"
"Sure thing, Hurricane Haley coming up."
"Everybody, flatten up against the wall of your cell away from the door. I'm letting the Red Spectre out."
Jocelyn Garimara leaned back against the concrete wall behind her and closed her eyes. Within her slim body, only an inch over five feet tall, was housed one of the most powerful and mysterious phenomena of the Midnight War. It had first manifested when she reached puberty and had almost caused her to be killed by her own family as a witch. Jocelyn relaxed and a crackling dark red blur shot out from her chest to hover in mid-air in front of her. Her Gammon was an outline of energy the same general size and shape as her body, with no visible features. Its head swung inquisitively back at her as asking for approval. Then, without touching down, the Red Spectre flashed at the cell door like channeled lightning, blowing the door off its hinges with a sharp cracking noise.
Jocelyn struggled to get to her feet, then walked stiffly toward the opening where the door had been. So much of her life force was tied up with her Gammon that its appearances left her weak. From out in the hall came three more explosions as the Specre blasted through the cells bordering hers. The Australian woman braced herself with a hand on each edge of the doorway, looking out in the hall. Her teammates were rushing to help her.
Timothy helped prop her up as the dark form hissed through the air and slid smoothly back into her body. That restored some vitality to her. "Hurry," she said, "we have to get outside."
"You all right there?" asked Timothy, reluctantly letting her stand on her own.
"I'm a bit knackered," she said, "But I'll be right in a minute. Haley! Get that door, it leads outside."
Swinging to face a door with a metal bar across it, with the late afternoon sun showing through a small glass panel, Windcatcher grinned. "Sure. Listen, everyone open your mouths and cover your ears!" She pressed her hand to her throat, where the real Air Gem was fastened under the Trom armor. The supposed talisman worn on her costume cape was actually just a blue tourmaline she had bought at a crystal shop but it had served to mislead many an enemy into thinking she had been disarmed.
Drawing on the Gem's properties, Haley Lawson siphoned away the air on the other side of the door, creating a near vacuum outside. She had to hold the low pressure area intact so that surrounding air did not rush in to replace it. At the same time, Windcatcher drew all the air in the long corridor down into a dense mass against the side of the door facing her. This trick of creating two effects at the same time had been something she had only mastered through long practice and still did not always work.
For a few seconds, her teammates were extremely uncomfortable. If they had not been warned, most likely a few would have suffered ruptured eardrums. Then, with a crash, the door flew outward with its locks snapping and an alarm went off.
"Run for the CORBY!" ordered Jocelyn. "Haley, give us cover."
"You got it," Haley laughed, summoning winds from the edge of a tornado somewhere in Texas. In an instant, she was swept up out of sight. Her three teammates took off at full pelt, across the tarmac and into the bordering forest as dozens of the armored TorsoBots started appearing.
IV.
Rising up like a missile, Haley Lawson leveled off at a thousand feet. She looked down at the island and decided that the air was already hot and humid enough for her purposes. Concentrating, drawing on her full ability to tap the Air Gem, she summoned a mass of frigid Arctic air from somewhere in northern Alaska to slam down on the muggy air already in place. Dark clouds formed instantly, there was flickering lightning, and heavy rains poured down on the island within seconds.
Not enough. Still holding herself up over the new cloud cover, Windcatcher summoned another layer of tropical air from Brazil and then hit it with a mass of subzero air from Antartica. At her best, she had been known to bring just over a cubic mile of air to her location from anywhere in the world. But, at the moment, some of her concentration was diverted to keeping her aloft and she could manage little more than half her limit.
Still, it was more than enough. The downpour was hitting the island with immense force. The winds were increasing. The storm was building by itself now. She couldn't even see through it. There, she thought, that should slow those so-called TorsoBots up a bit. Carefully, Haley swung her body around and propelled herself down at a shallow angle. She was used to flying with the cape, its edges were weighted and the fabric was stiff enough that it was useful to help steer her flight. When she descended down into the thunderstorm itself, she had trouble manuevering and had a few terrifying moments where she almost lost control.
Whipping along to where the CORBY had been concealed six miles from the installation, she hated getting soaked this way. Her hair was in her eyes and water got up her nose, but she had no choice. The life of a Tel Shai knight, she reminded herself, dropping down to treetop level.
The rain pounded down savagely, bending tree branches down and forming huge puddles and rivulets. Twigs and leaves were swirling in all directions from gale force winds tearing them loose. This was the biggest storm she had ever created, and she was a little worried it was already out of control. Swooping down low, only a dozen feet off the ground, Windcatcher caught sight of her three friends running in a tight cluster. She sped up a bit and got ahead of them, touching down in an awkward stumble on the slippery mud.
"Hey, you guys!" she sang out cheerfully with a huge grin.
"My God, Haley, is this YOUR doing?" yelled Timothy Limbo with genuine anger. "Are you trying to kill us? This is one step away from being a full-fledged hurricane!"
"Well, you are so welcome," she replied as she started running alongside them. "I was supposed to provide a distraction and that's just what I did. You notice none of the TorsoBots are chasing you?"
Timothy grunted. "Maybe next time, try to keep it just under Biblical disaster level, sweetie."
"There's the CORBY, right where we left it," Jocelyn shouted. Between a grouping of four palm trees, hidden under a jungle-green tarp fastened down by pegs driven into the ground, stood the familiar shape of the stealth copter. In another instant, they had reached it and the team started to unfasten the tarp but Jocelyn stopped them.
"No, wait!" she ordered, "Leave it covered for protection. Just get one corner up to wiggle under. Everyone get in the rear compartment, we don't want this rain flooding the cockpit." As her friends slid open the hatch on the side of the fuselage and climbed in, Jocelyn did not immediately follow. She opened a rear storage hatch and yanked out four knapsacks. She had to drop them on the muddy ground to close the hatch again but managed to do that and then tossed the knapsacks into the passenger compartment before leaping in herself. When she fastened the hatch behind her, the thunder and rainfall din softened to background noise.
The passenger compartment of the CORBY was separated from the cockpit by a sliding plastic divider, so even though the metal floor they dropped down on was soaking, the cockpit remained secure. There was a metal bench that sat two members comfortably and enough room on the floor for three more people but with the added knapsacks, things were a bit crowded at the moment. The opposite wall did not have a hatch but was taken up by a metal cabinet of equipment drawers.
While the others still had their Trom armor on, Demrak Jin was completely naked. She had been wearing her Ulgor war suit of sharkhide tunic and pants with the abrasive side out, and the soldiers had confiscated that. Jin's pale body showed the sleek, hard muscles from a lifetime of swimming in the ocean and being drenched did not bother her. Nor did she seem embarassed by nudity at all. Many of her Ulgor values didn't line up with the usual Western mores. She would be more ashamed at showing fear than showing her body.
"Hey, you thought to bring in our gear," Timothy suddenly noticed. "Good thinking, Jocelyn."
"You can see why she's the team leader when Sable's not here," agreed Haley. She was wringing out her long auburn hair and adding to the layer of water on the floor. "Listen, I got an idea."
"Not another hurricane," said Timothy.
"No, no, listen. I can bring in warm dry air from, oh... Arizona? The low humidity will dry us off and the moisture can leave through the CORBY's one-way vents."
"Go for it," Jocelyn said. "I don't think we have any towels in our knapsacks. I know I didn't pack any and I sure don't want to go back out and get some from the rear compartment."
In a minute, the air in the compartment had become pleasantly dry and snug. They could see the water evaporate off the floor and their bodies. Even their hair dried quickly. Before they got dressed, though, Jocelyn unsnapped the largest medical kit from its position high up on the wall. All of them had bloody, lacerated feet. Running for miles through the woods without shoes had left them with painfully cut up soles. The Neosporin cream, adhesive bandage pads and white surgical tape were passed around and there was considerable wincing and bad language. With their enhanced healing factor from the Tel Shai tagra diet, their feet would be fine in a few hours but they still were subject to pain and discomfort.
Getting the spare field suits out of their knapsacks and climbing into the clothing was complicated by the cramped quarters and they quickly agreed to do it one at a time. Eventually, they were all wearing fresh duplicates of the outfits they had on when they first had landed on the island. Haley even had a second, shorter cloak with a blue tourmaline at its clasp.
The only item missing was the bone-handled knife which Demrak Jin normally wore. Her pug face was usually sullen but now it looked so forlorn that even Timothy could not bear to tease her. Instead, he gave her the seven-inch combat knife from his field suit, and she gratefully strapped it to her own leg.
"Thank you, Timothy," she said, showing a courtesy so rare for her that everyone smiled at the gesture.
"Now we just wait out the storm," Jocelyn announced, getting up on the bench to take the spot that Jin had just vacated. "Unless you can make it go away, Haley?"
"Welllll, actually that's the part I haven't figured out yet," she admitted.
V.
By ten that night, the storm had eased up to scattered drizzle. Inside the CORBY, the team had dug into a cooler packed with bottled water, film-wrapped sandwiches and high-energy protein bars and then settled down to wait. Timothy and Haley had dug out a battered deck of cards from his knapsack and started a game of 21, while Demrak Jin had curled up in a corner and napped for a few hours.
Climbing through the divider into the pilot seat, Jocelyn Garimara had been listening to the satellite radio through headphones. NOAA and local weather reports from the big island of the Hawaiian chain were in an uproar over an unexpected tropical storm that had begun without warning that afternoon. The reports stated that at least the storm had hit on unoccupied smaller islands far out on the chain and no loss of life was expected.
"Tropical Storm Haley," Jocelyn Garimara said to herself. The more Haley Lawson experimented and improvised with her air-summoning ability, the more Jocelyn realized just how dangerous Windcatcher could be. At some point, the young woman might inadvertently create a major disaster over populated areas if they weren't careful.
Sliding open the divider behind the cockpit, the team leader squeezed back into the rear compartment to find Timothy Limbo sitting with two of his caspers hovering in front of him. Barely visible under the best circumstances, they looked like tiny whirlwinds a few inches long. No one knew if they were independent energy beings who had attached themselves to him or if they were manifestations of gralic force created by his subconscious mind. There seemed to be no way to find out for sure.
"Thanks, you guys," Timothy said. "Good work." The caspers blinked out of existence like soap bubbles popping and he turned to find everyone staring at him. "It's ugly out there. Half the island is flooded neck high. There are dead TorsoBots lying in water all over. You can't expect guys with two-third of their bodies replaced with solid metal to swim very well. Trees are down. The installation is dark, I guess the generators gave out during the storm and I don't see anybody moving on the grounds. It's a disaster."
Haley Lawson said, "Why is everybody giving me that look? We were unarmed and being chased by an army of killer robot zombies or don't you remember?"
From the cockpit, Jocelyn leaned closer. "It's for the best. Nobody was on the island except the TorsoBots and the criminal scientists creating them. Maybe the John Grim organization will take a hint and discontinue the project." She took a deep breath, then added, "Now we have to see for ourselves. In particular, General Westcott has to be accounted for."
Timothy Limbo got up and slid open the hatch behind him. Hot humid air flooded in, making them all frown at the change. The four KDF members removed the tarp from the CORBY, folded it and stowed it carefully in the rear storage area. They spent half an hour inspecting the copter for any damage and were relieved to find none. A palm tree had crashed down twenty feet away during the storm but luckily the CORBY was untouched. Another half hour went into warming the craft up, checking the systems and making sure they had a clear access to rise. Finally, everyone was strapped in place, with Jocelyn behind the control sticks. Timothy Limbo sat in the co-pilot seat and sent a casper ahead to scout out the area for any signs of surviving TorsoBots.
The main rotors turned, speeding up gradually. The CORBY did not have tail rotors but instead two vertical vanes on the tail that helped correct by high pressure air. As the craft rose smoothly upward, it showed no external lights or any insignia or markings. The KDF broke a dozen laws and regulations every time one of their stealth copters left the ground.
Jocelyn flew slowly, just above treetop level, surveying the storm damage. It was heavily overcast and the island was dark but the Trom sensors converted feedback from microwave projectors into a visual image on the windscreen. Much of the island was underwater now. Bodies of the armored men showed where the new ponds and rivers had lowered enough to reveal them, since the TorsoBots were too heavy to float.
"Looks like a war zone," Timothy observed.
"Yes. And the TorsoBots were meant to be weapons of war," Jocelyn replied. "You could say their deaths are appropriate in an ironic way."
"There's the facility!" Haley said from the back compartment, leaning forward past Jocelyn's shoulder. "Not a light on."
"My boys don't spot any active TorsoBots," Timothy said. "That's odd. You'd think some of them would be kept inside as security during the storm."
"There could still be an ambush ready." Jocelyn swung the CORBY around to circle the installation. The American flag was tattered from the high winds and debris littered the grounds but nothing moved. "Everyone keep watch. I'm going to touch down on the helipad."
As the CORBY lowered its landing gear and silently set down, rotors slowing, Timothy said, "My caspers found one TorsoBot still alive. He's sort of just sitting on the steps in the back, maybe he's hurt."
"As long as he can answer questions," Jocelyn said, powering down the Trom impulse engines.
"I guarantee he will talk," Demrak Jin offered, fingering the hilt of the long knife strapped to her thigh.
"I don't have to tell everyone to be alert," the Australian woman said as she unstrapped herself from the restraints. She popped open the hatch to her right and hopped out. The tarmac was covered with water half an inch deep and there were wide puddles all around. Broken tree branches and stray pieces of the building were scattered about.
Forming a loose circle with Demrak Jin in the rear watching behind them, they strode around the building and found one of the TorsoBots hunched over at the top of the steps leading up to wide double doors. As they approached, the soldier slowly raised his head. He still wore his helmet but he had managed to wrench the goggles off. Through deepset cloudy eyes surrounded by black circles, the TorsoBot watched them approach and made no move for his weapon.
"I remember everything," he said in a normal voice, not the hollow tones they had heard from TorsoBots so far. "Sergeant First Class Henry Walter Strubel. What's the date today?"
"June 28, 2014," answered Jocelyn.
"Cripes. The last I remember was just before Christmas 2009. That filthy bastard Westcott brought me here illegally, claimed it was special orders from the top. I found out I was listed as AWOL. My wife Mary was seven months pregnant. Oh God help me. Our son would be five years old today." His voice broke and he got hold of himself. "Not that it matters, I'll never see either of them."
Jocelyn stepped closer. "Henry. Henry, where is General Westcott now?"
The TorsoBot gestured behind him. In the open doorway, a pair of boots could be seen on the floor, toes down. "I emptied a clip into his stinking face. He's not a pretty sight, lady."
"Are there any other of the RTs still active?"
"Not that I know of. Most of them went out into the storm and didn't come back. Some went haywire and started shooting up themselves and each other. I think the goddam orders were scrambled by the storm. I stopped getting instructions in my helmet and eventually my own thoughts come back." He rose to his feet, staring down at the KDF members below him. "I don't know you people. Goverment investigators?"
"We're civilian consultants," Jocelyn answered. "The Recovery Troops, what was that all about? Was it authorized by the Pentagon?"
"No, it was completely a rogue operation. Westcott began it before his retirement and later he started working with these John Grim lunatics. First, they were using bodies of soldiers killed in action. They froze the poor losers and brought them here to be rebuilt. It turned out they got better results the fresher the bodies were. Which makes sense."
The KDF team had drawn closer, not completely lowering their guard but fascinated by the story the TorsoBot was telling. "Wait," Haley blurted out, "You were brought here alive. You don't mean...?"
"Yep. The bastards strapped me to an operating table and killed me. Lethal injection. Westcott said he deliberately waited eight minutes before starting revival procedures. I gradually came to consciousness, if you can call it that, in this stupid mechanical body. We were supposed to be the next generation of super-soldiers but nothing ever worked right. We kept disobeying orders and wandering off as our memories insisted on returning." The armored man lowered his head again. "I don't know what you people plan on doing here. It doesn't matter to me. I don't have much time."
"What do you mean?"
"I set my battery pack to discharge," said the former Henry Strubel. "It'll run down over the next eighteen hours. Then I'll be dead again. Hopefully for good."
"Is that what you want?" asked Jocelyn.
"It's all I want! Don't you understand? I come from a military family in Alabama. I was proud to serve my country. And look what they did to me. Not alive, not dead, not a man, not a machine..."
A yellow and green bird flew overhead, squawking. The TorsoBot watched it go by. "Life goes on. For others, I guess."
"Henry, we are going to go through this facility and destroy all its records," Jocelyn said, quietly holstering her gun. "All the computers and their back-ups and their detachable hard drives. All the journals and notes and memos. Maybe this will prevent this sort of thing from happening again."
"I'll help with that," the soldier said. "I know the layout here. Come on, there will be a lot to uncover."
That night and the next morning were spent searching the facility and thoroughly destroying every bit of the records they could find. They discovered their outfits, the field suits and weapons and gadgets, in a lab and Timothy hauled the bundle back to the CORBY for storage. Demrak Jin was delighted to find her long blade and she strapped it gleefully across her back before returning to survival knife to Tim. The fire the team built outside from broken furniture and bits of wood consumed thousands of pages containing the secrets of the Recovered Troops project.
By that afternoon, Henry Strubel had begun moving slower and slower. He went off by himself without explanation and Jocelyn told her teammates to let him go. By that time, the stench of the decaying TorsoBots rotting in the hot sun was getting intolerable. Even fresh air summoned in by Haley only helped for a short time. They were nearly done with their task when the sole surviving TorsoBot haltingly returned, using a shovel as a walking stick.
"Come with me," he said simply and led them a few dozen yards into the woods. He had dug a hole six feet long, three feet wide and six feet deep. The moist soil was piled up to one side. "My readout tells me I have four minutes left. Can I count on you to do the right thing?"
"Absolutely," Jocelyn said in a choked voice. "You deserve what respect we can show you."
Without another word, the TorsoBot fell rather than jumped down into the grave he had dug for himself. He managed to straighten out on his back, arms down at his sides, and took a few more unsteady struggling breaths. The helmeted head fell to one side and the jaw sagged open.
"Rest in peace," said Jocelyn as she picked up the shovel. They took turns filling in the grave.
8/28/2016