A.I. Destroyer (The A.I. Series Book 1) by Vaughn Heppner

Author:Vaughn Heppner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Published: 2017-03-02T11:00:00+00:00

-3-

Jon climbed into his battlesuit.

He wore slick-suit overalls, as there wasn’t enough room inside the battlesuit to wear bulky clothing. It was a tight fit even so, but if he got an itch while wearing the armor, he should be able to squeeze an arm from an exoskeleton sleeve and scratch himself.

The suit had outer BPC armor—an articulated biphase specially treated carbon sheathing. It had battery power, electric motors and exoskeleton strength that would amplify his normal muscles.

The helmet had an HUD, a plastic nipple for water and another for nutrient paste. He had a medikit attached to him and loaded with stims and other drugs. The suit also had a complicated disposal system and short-range communication. If the enemy jammed them, they had hookup phone lines.

It took him four minutes and thirty-two seconds to don and close the battlesuit.

He hadn’t allowed Gloria to bring her SLN battlesuit. She and Da Vinci would stay in a mobile resupply vehicle. In essence, the small tracked vehicle was a mini-tank designed to ride along within an insertion boat. It carried supplies for the men and their suits, a generator for extra suit power, and it boasted an autocannon.

Jon activated his battlesuit, using minimal power. With motors purring, he climbed through the insertion-boat’s hatch, shuffled along a narrow pathway and backed into his rack. It clacked around him, pinning him into place.

It was claustrophobically tight inside the boat. Over one hundred and eighty suited-marines, the Centurion and his men, attached themselves to the racks.

Gloria and Da Vinci had already sealed themselves in the supply vehicle that rode in this boat.

Soon, the boat’s outer hatch sealed as the weird ice slid into place.

Jon checked his chronometer. They had less than ten minutes until the Brezhnev made its final maneuver.

Despite his fierce desire to beat the aliens, or maybe because of it, his heart rate accelerated. Butterflies made his gut flip. The sensation could have weakened his resolve. Instead, Jon felt intensely alive. He was worried about what the next few minutes would bring, but he would not trade this moment.

Normally, an officer would be monitoring a med board attached to all the men. Said officer might also have suggested Jon take a mild trank.

On Jon’s orders, they forwent such scrutiny. There would be no radio transmissions while they were outside the alien vessel. They dared not risk it, not against a cybernetic foe with such advanced technology.

Jon’s mouth was dry again. With his chin, he activated the suit’s HUD. At the same time, he brought up an external control unit. He gripped it with his power-gloved hands.

His fingers trembled with anticipation.

On the HUD, he observed the Old Man’s insertion boat. It already rested in the launch holder. The other two boats were on the conveyer system.

Everyone would have to remain strong on his or her own. Everyone except for a handful in the supply vehicles was cocooned in his battlesuit, alone with his thoughts.

Da Vinci had set up a simple automated sequence in the Brezhnev’s auxiliary station using a tablet in lieu of the regular computer.

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