Free The Diamond Deep by Brenda Cooper Page A

Whatever it was that came out, it had emerged from the invading ship’s belly. It grasped the ship’s landing legs.
    â€œHow many are there?” Joel asked.
    â€œAt least two,” Ix said. “I cannot tell yet.”
    The smallest of the ships bent down—that was the only way Ruby could describe it—and clutched the feet of its mother ship. The center of the cluster of legs moved down and attached itself to the outside of the Fire , just above one of the locks.
    No one spoke until Ix said, “It looks like it will be able to get in without hurting us. Like they have the right codes. This should not be possible.”
    KJ spoke the worst conclusion. “If they know how to open the locks on our ship, then they could have found a way to talk to us.”

The light that shone from the hatch illuminated nothing. It had been designed for people in the airlock. All that Onor and Marcelle and the others clinging to the insides of the cargo bay could see was the light surrounding the door, limning it, making the door itself look even blacker than the surrounding metal.
    It seemed to take forever for the lock to cycle. Onor’s breath rattled inside of his helmet, full of fear and stomach acid.
    He braced for the people coming through the door, for unfamiliar weapons.
    The inner door of the lock opened, pushed out by . . . he squinted, drew in a breath: Pushed out my metal claws. Behind the claws, metal arms. Behind the metal arms, small metal bodies with thick legs attached. Four? No, six legs plus the two front ones with the claws. The thighs were thicker than a man, maybe much thicker.
    Strength and flexibility. He quickly saw that he should add speed to the words that the robots brought to his mind. That’s what they had to be. Bots. There didn’t seem to be room anywhere for a human unless there were humans in each leg, and that made no sense. They were all leg and claw. All machine.
    The first one jumped , moving impossibly to latch itself to the wall at least twenty meters from the airlock door.
    Onor pressed closer to the wall.
    Ix spoke into his helmet. “Don’t move. Yet. They don’t know you are there.”
    Onor tried not to move his lips much as he asked Ix, “What are they?”
    â€œThey are not in my library. The claws are sharp. They appear to be strong.”
    â€œUnderstatement.” Onor hissed.
    The first of the robots scuttled along the wall, using the hand-holds and the traverse lines to move quickly down to the cargo pods. It seemed to know exactly where it was, to belong in the deep holds of the Fire . This alone—the familiarity—was enough to give Onor shivers.
    Three more came through. One waited by the hatch. Two of them followed the first robot and fanned out. All four moved in different directions.
    The first one that had come through snapped the straps on a cargo pod and lifted the entire structure of the bin away from the wall.
    â€œWhat should we do?” Onor whispered.
    Ix didn’t answer.
    The fourth clawed robot started moving along the wall toward them.
    â€œWhat do we do?” Onor repeated. In just two jumps it had come a quarter of the distance.
    When Ix remained silent, Onor bit his lip to make himself think. Pain drove his fear deeper inside, opening up his airway and giving him more ability to talk.
    They were attacking his home.
    â€œIx. How do I hurt it? That one’s almost here. How do I hurt it?”
    â€œDon’t move yet.”
    â€œIt’s coming.”
    â€œYou have no weapon.”
    It took one more hop toward them, stopped. With no visible eye, he couldn’t tell how it saw. Yet he felt sure it watched them, knew they were there.
    â€œCan you jam the airlock closed? Block them in?”
    No answer.
    They were all linked to Ix and not to each other. By design. So there would be one set of orders, and so Ix could control the conversation. It was a price they often paid for talking