The Storm (NUMA Files 10)

“I’m so sorry, I just—”

“Save it,” Kurt said, his eyes on the menacing machines.

Marchetti raced for the bulkhead door. He twisted and pulled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Watch out,” Joe shouted.

One of the machines had begun to zero in on Marchetti. It charged forward on its tracks with one appendage reaching for him and a second arm spouting blazing white plasma.

Marchetti ducked and scampered to a new spot. The machine tracked him and began to close in again.

Kurt looked for the gun and spotted it across the room. Before he could move, a fourth machine came alive and stepped in his path.

He backed up, putting the couch between him and the walking machine. Joe and Leilani retreated as well.

“How do they operate?” Kurt shouted as one of the robots reached the table and carved it in two with a circular saw.

“Either autonomously or guided from a remote site,” Marchetti said. “They have pinhole cameras for eyes.”

The machines lumbered toward them like sleepy animals. Each time they reached something solid, their actuators spun and their claws extended. A chair was flung out of the way, a couch set on fire with the welding torches.

Kurt noticed that their movements were odd, only one machine at a time seemed to do anything out of the ordinary. “Could Otero be at that remote site right now?”

Marchetti nodded. Kurt turned to Joe. “Now would be a good time for a suggestion.”

“I’d say, let’s pull the plug,” Joe replied, “but I’m guessing they have batteries.”

With that, he grabbed a chair and hurled it at the closest robot. It caromed off the lumbering machine, rocking it backward a bit, but other than that it seemed to have no effect.

By now Kurt had been forced closer to where Marchetti stood. Joe and Leilani held a different spot. But the machines, or Otero, seemed intent on herding them together.

Kurt made a break to the right, but a blast from a welding torch stopped him. He went the other way, relying on his quickness.

The machine pivoted and released another blinding flash of plasma, but Kurt was already inside the machine’s reach. He felt the heat singe his back but not directly. He grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on and yanked until it broke off. Then he found another protrusion that looked like a camera and bashed it sideways.

The welding torch flared out over his shoulder again, and some other arm began to move.

“Do these things have an off switch?” he shouted.

“No,” Marchetti said. “I couldn’t imagine wanting to shut them off manually.”

“I’m guessing you can imagine it now.”

Kurt reached for what looked like a trio of hydraulic lines only to receive a blow to the chest that sent him flying off the machine. Some type of hammer used to drive rivets had extended and struck him in the ribs.

He landed on his back, only to see a saw blade dropping toward him from a second machine. He rolled out of the way and ended up against the huge circular window, beyond which the turquoise hue of the sea loomed.

Marchetti was there as well, and Joe and Leilani had been successfully herded into the same general vicinity.

“I have an idea,” Kurt said.

He lunged for the same machine he’d just been on, careful to avoid the appendages. The torch flashed again, almost blinding him. The hydraulic hammer came out again, but Kurt twisted his body to avoid it.

The machine lumbered forward with Kurt clinging to it. It pushed him back, banging him against the window like the captain of a football team might bang a geeky freshmen against a locker. The torch flashed again, carving a line in the acrylic window. A second swipe left another scar.

Kurt tried to push the machine back, but it shoved him against the window. He felt like his ribs were cracking from the pressure.

“I hope … these things … aren’t waterproof,” he managed.