Steelheart by William C. Dietz Page A

Mothri had been forced to heat their repositories, and Becka enjoyed a constant flow of warm air as she dropped through the tube. A sure sign that unlike the cold, dark caverns they had explored the month before, this farm was "live." Becka remembered the sulfur stench of still-rotting eggs, the slight phosphorescent glow of the half-crushed Mothri, and the already looted egg chambers.
    Becka shivered in spite of the warmth, felt her boots touch ground, and gave three tugs on the line. She received a one-tug response, freed herself from the rope, and ducked out of the shaft.
    The girl knew that there were robots all around, machines so small she couldn't see them, but all calling for help. Killer droids, each larger than she was, and heavily armed.
    Becka had five minutes, maybe less, to locate what she had come for, grab it, and make her escape. A nearly absurd plan, except for the fact that she and her mentor had explored one repository and knew the way it was laid out.
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    The tunnel was dim, very dim, but the ever-provident Annie had thought of that, and equipped Becka with two headband-mounted flashlights. Overlapping circles of light illuminated earthen walls as she turned and jogged down a corridor.
    The first repository had been laid out in a star- or asterisk-shaped configuration with the Mothri's quarters, control rooms, and maintenance facilities located at the center, while arms pointed outward and rooms branched to either side. Looters had pillaged the other storage facility by the time the twosome arrived, leaving little more than equipment racks, ugly graffiti, and smashed eggs.
    So, given the straightforward design, it should be a relatively easy task to enter the first compartment she came to, grab an egg, and retrace her footsteps.
    Egg rooms appeared to the left and right. Becka was right-handed and instinctively turned in that direction.
    The compartments had been dug with machinelike precision—not too surprising, given that robots had done all the work. A central aisle provided access to opposing racks. They had been excavated rather than built, with each egg resting within its own carefully scooped depression.
    Each egg was a work of biological art, its shell covered with a swirl of blue, gray, and green, as unique as a human fingerprint. Like that which they protected, the casings were valuable, and were worth a fortune to anyone who had the means to move them. Still, one was better than none, and would be cut into sections and sold. Not the center of Annie's enterprise—but a profitable sideline.
    Becka inspected the lowest row of eggs, chose what she judged to be the smallest, and gathered it into her arms. Alarms went off. Hundreds of tiny flea-sized nano swarmed over the top of her boots, found their way up into her pants, and clamped mechanical jaws onto her unprotected flesh. Surprised, and reeling from the excruciating pain, Becka screamed.
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    Enore seethed with impatience. Someone, or something, had invaded her domain and was stealing an egg. She wanted to go there, and would have, except for the fact that video of the human research facility had brought Zenth over to her side. More than that, Tortna was wobbling, and Rota was within reach. It seemed that an agreement could be had. If she kept them focused, if she. kept her temper, if theymade an honest attempt to understand. The conference continued— as did the torture it caused.
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    Becka's skin felt as though it was on fire, and blood had soaked the tops of her socks, but she staggered on. The egg was slippery with her sweat and weighed a ton. Screaming helped, as did swearing, so she switched back and forth. Annie knew plenty of swear words, so the child had lots to pick from.
    The corridor ended. She ducked into the shaft, placed the egg on the ground, and clipped the rope to her harness. Becka wanted to stop, rip her clothes off, and deal with the nano. It would be a mistake, however, a possibly fatal mistake, and