***Base…altering configuration to state number one…is this a good idea, Base? These barrier bots are all effectors…they replicate fast. At close quarters, ANAD may not be able to counter in time. More data is needed--***
“No time, ANAD. I know what I’m doing. Sheila, on my mark—“
“Charging now, Skipper.” Reaves and Singh initialized the charging sequence. The HERF guns hummed with barely contained energy.
Winger toggled into pilot mode on his own wristpad and let the nanoscale world of atoms and molecules and Brownian motion wash over him. It was like careening out of control down a waterfall, but the sensation subsided in a few seconds.
No doubt about it, combat at the scale of atoms was a different ball game. Every atomgrabber had his own routine for preparing for the transition from one world to another.
“Now…Sheila! Hit ‘em now! Hit ‘em hard and fast.”
The HERF batteries discharged.
The first image he had was that of plowing through heavy surf on some spray-washed beach in a stiff wind. But after months of grabbing atoms and diving in and out of ANAD’s world, Johnny Winger knew how to adjust quickly.
He tweaked his propulsors and jetted ahead, fighting currents and bumping through the cascade of molecules that sleeted past him.
Let’s get full effectors out, he decided. This latest ANAD had extensible fullerene ‘hooks’ for better grasping plus a stiffer diamondoid base with more reactive bond ends…the better to stick to whatever he wanted to examine. The Lab’s engineers had really been tinkering under the hood and Winger was glad of it.
The ANAD master responded like a champ, deploying grabbers, extractors, hydrogen probes and bond disrupters quickly. Now bristling with his full complement of tools and weapons, he sounded ahead to get his bearings.
Through the heavy ‘rain’ of jostling molecules, still recovering from the HERF blast, Winger sensed unusual structures ahead. A thermal bloom of assembler activity lit up his viewer and he cut propulsors to reconnoiter the target.
Could be more defensive bots, he surmised. There was no telling what tricks Symborg had up its sleeve. It was reasonable to expect a tighter screen around the big device in the center of the room. He shifted his approach heading, trying to hide behind a clump of oxygens, then scooted past a gust of phosphorus molecules as he tacked against the prevailing current. I’ll put the scope on ‘em.
Dead ahead, an array of assembler bots had formed a defense line and was quickly closing the gap. Winger swallowed hard as the first acoustic image of the mechs settled into view.
Each assembler was shaped like a squat barbell, with top and bottom spheres of pulsating molecule groups bristling with effectors of every conceivable shape and type. The connecting columns were themselves multi-stranded chains of peptides, able to extend and contract the whole structure with lightning speed. The barbells rotated in unison, whirling like tiny motors. Whiplike propulsors churned at either end, lending the bot matchless maneuverability.
Fantastic engineering, Winger realized. Quantum Corps had nothing like it. But before he could probe further for more details, the entire defensive line had whipped forward, almost as a single unit, and enveloped ANAD and its replicant swarm without warning.
Before Winger could even react, he got warnings left and right on his coupler circuit:
***Carbene effectors disabled***
***Hydrogen abstractors disabled***