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than the ASKALON-9. One was
clearly built on an old Koyuki base, but instead of the tires that
the pre-war Japanese manufacturer had favored, it had small
rubberized feet that moved in a rapid four-cycle march. It carried
two heavy pincher arms of an unfamiliar design.
    The other was a bizarre
blend of a Misca sentry bot and a Cobalt Arachnyd X4; a small
cylindrical torso from which sprouted eight jointed legs ending in
four-pronged claws. It strongly resembled a spider and moved in
much the same way , but was not quite as
tall as a man . Both bots were armored and
neither had any external apparatus, making them much more difficult
to disable. Only a direct hit to a sensor socket would blind these
ones.
    The bots walked briskly
across the road and entered the trees on the far side. John saw movement in the
jungle, a flash of sun on a reflective surface that quickly disappeared , and he waited a moment longer .
    As long as I stay out of
sight, those bots are my best shot at finding a person or a
computer that can tell me where on earth I am .
    He sprinted across the road
feeling horribly exposed, and breathed a sigh of relief when he
made the trees. He could hear the bots marching up ahead. He had no
idea how sensitive their auditory feeds were, so he’d have to hang
back and walk slowly. He slowed his breathing and strolled forward,
listening intently.
    A few minutes passed. The
road was slowly rising in elevation, and he hoped that meant it led
to the top where the antenna stood. It was likely the two bots were
going there for routine maintenance. Maybe there was a vehicle
shed, or at least a terminal with a human interface that he could
access without undue difficulty. Maybe –
    John threw himself to the ground just as a flechette canister
whirred by overhead. Three square meters of jungle thrashed as
hundreds of razored metal scraps shredded it into a haze of
chlorophyll. He rolled hard off the road to his right, downhill
into the trees. A rapid clanking above warned him of the bot’s
approach.
    Stupid, stupid,
stupid!
    They’d planned a perfect
ambush, one bot continuing ahead and making noise while the other
secreted itself at the edge of the road and waited for him. If he
hadn’t heard the slight clunk as the flechette canister loaded into
the launcher, he’d have been instantly shredded. Luckily, the sound
was unmistakable once you’d heard it a few dozen times. Once
y ou’d seen what it could
do …
    He kept rolling until he
was behind a thick banyan and he gripped its roots, mind racing.
The bot, probably the Arachnyd, would be scanning the jungle for
movement and infrared signatures simultaneously. When it saw
nothing it would descend, looking for him, another flechette
canister ready. He had maybe twenty seconds before it flushed him
out.
    Up , screamed Sergeant Wiley . Up!
    Up.
    John stood and jumped for the nearest branch. Banyans trailed so
many creepers, vines, and branches that getting up was easy. He pulled
himself higher ,
keeping the trunk between himself and the road. The bark was slimy
and smelled foul as he slithered upward , breath rasping in his throat .
Settling into a fork in the main
trunk , a curtain
of vines hid the road from
sight , but he could hear the Arachnyd
finish its scan and descend the slope toward the banyan. He waited,
listening to the sounds.
    The Arachnyd moved slowly
for several meters, then stopped. He almost poked his head through
the vine curtain to see, but controlled the urge and waited. After
a moment, the bot continued much more quickly, circling wide to
gain the best trajectory. When it reached the point where it should
have been able to see him, it stopped again.
    He drew in a deep
breath. Any second now.
    The Arachnyd would be calculating all
possible angles of escape, and the tree offered the best chance of
concealment. Therefore it’s going to shred
the tree.
    On cue, the machine
approached, flechette port aimed at the lowest probable hiding
place, a curtain of