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They were going to fight. Of course they were going to fight. When
the Progenitors distributed DNA on Qo'noS, they had neglected to
encode the First Law of Robotics.
Kevla and Lorca had taken Joy's place at the mouth of the cave. Joy
went head down in the second rank, waiting for either to fall, to
move up and take their place. The Hawking was coming in? Fifteen
minutes? Joy started scanning the structure of the stone above the
cave mouth, found more or less what she wanted.
"Lt. Kevla? If we retreat down the cave, and seal the mouth, they
haven't got the equipment to clear the entrance before the Hawk gets
here. We don't have to fight them!"
Kevla quickly glanced back at Joy. The expression on her face read as
though the thought of not fighting had never really occurred to her.
She turned back to the front of the cave and resumed firing. "Lt, I
misspoke earlier. The Hawking is not on its way here. It is holding
position just within the quarantine zone, approximately ten minutes
ETA. They will come if we require their assistance. However, I do not
wish to expose any more crew to that parasite if at all possible, and
we were unable to pick up these attackers when we landed. Who's to
say they don't have equipment available?"
Joy sat down, and thought some more. We hadn't picked up power
sources. The enemy had shown up as life forms, but not as energy
sources. Shielded. Their equipment must be designed not to be
detected, which is why they were short on power, and why they were
having trouble penetrating the AXE suits. Also, the enemy was very
close when the shuttle came down. They showed up quickly, without
transport signature, in armor. That implied we landed right on top of
their base, or at least a camp. Joy made a mental note note in the
future to choose not the best place to secretly land a shuttle on a
given planet, but the fifth or sixth best.
If it was a full scale base, escalating the conflict might not be
wise, but given the tactical situation and Kevla's determination to
fight... Joy's necklace started to blink as her network port accessed
the shuttle's computers and asked for diagnostic summary. Main
Impulse drive crippled. Shields projectors on the starboard side
needed replacement. Thrusters operational, but not powerful enough to
lift the ship in the current gravity. Phasers operational, but the
main array was underneath the bow of the shuttle, not in a position
to aid this fight. Transporters operational! Sensors were damaged but
still fairly good shape, especially if external scanning sources
could be tied in.
Joy quickly pulled a cable out of her purse, slipped one end into her
suit's data jack, the other into the tricorder. Her necklace
continued to blink. She sent a command to the shuttle, whose sensor
array became supplemented by Joy's suit sensors and her external
tricorder. Joy quickly used the shuttle's sensors to survey the
shuttle's weapons locker, found what she wanted, and sent another
command to the shuttle.
A crate of grenades shimmered into existence next to her.
Joy opened it. "Kevla? Please confirm this unit has authority to use
lethal force against those attacking this cave?"
Turning at the sound of the transport and Joys question, Kevla's eye
locked on the crate. Kevla started to say something, then stopped,
looking at Joy. "Confirmed. You may use lethal force against those
attacking this cave." Kevla continued, softly speaking in the Klingon
tongue, but Joy couldn't quite make out what she said. Something
unfavorable about software engineers?
Joy read the serial number on the grenade, accessed the shuttle's
computer again, and received the information that this batch's fuses
tend to run 4.183 milliseconds on the slow side. Joy adjusted the
materialization altitude accordingly, pulled the pin, and placed the
grenade on the floor in front of her.
There was a chorus of "Joy!", but it fell silent as the grenade
shimmered and vanished. There was an explosion outside the cave
mouth. On the tricorder beside her, there were two less life form
readings.
Another grenade. Another pin. More death.
This was not how Black Seven would have done it. Black Seven liked to
transport her enemies a few thousand feet in the air. She had enjoyed
hearing them scream until they hit the ground. Joy Eleven was not
Black Seven anymore. The programmers Kevla had just cursed had seen
to that. No, Joy's victims did not scream. It was the killer who
wanted to scream, she who was forced to cause the death of a sentient
being.
Perversely, in misery, Joy thought that was how it should be.