Crawlers

11:38pm

I squirmed in my pit. Twenty-two minutes remained until Steadman's bombs were due to detonate. I confess, I was anxious.

I needed only to keep intruders out of the Barbican for just a little longer. But it was fully armed, fully trained soldiers who were being sent against me now.

I had been careful to choose and retain the strongest of my subjects, keeping them from the attentions of my drones. Even so, my defensive forces were down to half what they had been. The subjects who remained were loyal of course, and touchingly careless of their own safety in their desire to serve me. There were, however, few trained fighters among them, and most were unarmed.

It was fortunate, therefore, that my newest subjects were soldiers themselves.

In the lull after beating back the latest incursion, two of these suited men broke away from the pack. Bringing their guns with them they quickly climbed the stairs and - with no direct prompting from me - posted themselves on the balcony. While my main force returned to their positions once more to prepare for the next wave of attack, I watched through the two soldiers' eyes as they took aim, covering the foyer entrance.

Their positioning was perfect. The gas was clearing: they had a commanding view. Now any armed intruder who proved too troublesome could - to use a vivid term I'd just gleaned from the two soldiers' minds - be 'slotted' from cover.

I had snipers. I adore it when my subjects use their own initiative.

In the pit I settled back as comfortably as I could. The cocoons were protected and soon they would hatch. I had only to wait for my young human protégée to come for me.

Twenty-one minutes, now.