E-Day

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Dr. Cross was sitting on a crate outside the tent reading a book. He stood and greeted Chloe with his handsome smile.

  “Ah, Chloe, you are like a flame in the darkness every time I see you,” he said. “Come, come, we’re about to get started.”

  A group of doctors flooded in through another door, followed by two gargantuan soldiers wearing full armor and helmets sporting antlers made of human bones.

  “I see you met young Michael,” Dr. Cross said. He looked at the guard who had accompanied her.

  Chloe nodded.

  “He’s one of the lucky few,” Dr. Cross said. “The first in the future of the Coalition.”

  The two Breakers flanked the guard as he walked over to the seat. He took off his helmet, his eyes meeting Chloe’s once again.

  A doctor handed her a suit, and she changed into it as the doctors prepared for surgery. The Breakers lingered in the shadows, holding energy axes.

  “Today, we’re transitioning from exterior modifications to interior,” Dr. Cross said. He walked over to a row of red medical crates and opened them.

  Through her goggles, Chloe could see vacuum-sealed packages of organs.

  “No,” Michael muttered.

  Dr. Cross approached the young soldier. “No?” he asked, curiously. “Are you denying the sacred oath you swore? Would you prefer we use your younger brother instead?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “Good.” Dr. Cross nodded at the doctors. “Let’s get this started.”

  As they put Michael under, Dr. Cross walked over and stood next to Chloe.

  “We’re getting close to my objective, bringing my hybrid animals and humans to another level, to rival AI without becoming AI,” he said. “To prepare them for what comes next in this war for our species and the planet.”

  A technician carefully pulled two artificial lungs from a crate.

  Michael was unconscious now and intubated.

  Chloe looked away as they cracked his chest open.

  Pretend it’s not real, she thought.

  But pretending was difficult when she could hear the doctor sawing through bones.

  The hours slowly ticked by as they removed the patient’s lungs and inserted new ones. When they had finished and sealed up his chest, Dr. Cross instructed Chloe to join the team.

  “This is where you come in, Ms. Cotter,” he said.

  She stepped up, trying to keep calm as she repeated her uncle’s words to herself.

  Pretend it’s not real… pretend…

  “I need you to work with my engineers to design a breathing apparatus that will support these artificial lungs,” Dr. Cross said. “They were designed to filter out heavy pollutants and gases, but not everything.”

  He looked at her as she stood there, her hands shaking. “Can you do that?”

  “Yes… I think.”

  “You think? Or you know?”

  She swallowed. “I know.”

  “Good,” he rubbed his bloody gloves together. “Only a small portion of the most holy Coalition souls will be granted access to this transcendence while our planet resets naturally.”

  He stepped over with a large surgical saw.

  “Our patient will survive until you can design a mask, but breathing will be a struggle,” Dr. Cross said. “Soon, he will be begging for a mask.”

  Using the saw, he cut off Michael’s nose in a few deep strokes. Once it was hanging by a few threads, he ripped it off with his fingers and held it up to examine under the light before tossing it into the trash.

  The team went to work securing the gushing wound.

  Chloe felt her stomach churn.

  “He has mechanical prosthetics to run and jump, teeth to tear and eat, hardy new lungs to breathe, and INVS eyes to see in the dark,” Dr. Cross said. “Now, how else shall we modify our young friend?”

  Chloe stared. Soon there wouldn’t be much left of this young man.

  She flinched as Dr. Cross put a bloody hand on her shoulder.

  “Think on it,” he said. “In the meantime, come with me, there’s something else I need help with.”

  They left the chamber, two Breakers lumbering after them, their rancid breath puffing out of their helmets. They trekked down two more passages to another room full of cages. But unlike the one Chloe had seen on the way in, this room was bustling with animals: wolf pups, foals and fillies, hairy black tarantulas, and crows.

  Dr. Cross went to the only fully grown horse in the space, already modified with prosthetic legs. The stallion was a remarkable animal with obsidian flesh and dark brown hair and eyes that centered on Chloe.

  “I’m holding on to this beautiful specimen for a new friend, but I’d like to make some enhancements before I return him.” Reaching through the bars of the cage, the doctor stroked the thick mane.

  The animal snorted, and stomped the ground with a hoof.

  “As you can see, it’s a temperamental beast, but that’s to be expected,” Dr. Cross said. “Preserve the brain, further enhance the body for combat, and add a helmet with a breathing apparatus. Can you do that?”

  Chloe managed a nod.

  “Good, get started. The clock is ticking, and we don’t have much time left,” Dr. Cross said.

  — 9 —

  The sun rose over Outpost Oasis, burning across the pyramids.

  Akira watched the ball of fire with Okami from the roof of the compound. Twenty-one Coalition nomads wouldn’t wake to see the fiery glow today. And for that, Akira felt the sting of regret.

  Perhaps there was more he could have done to avoid the bloodshed the night before.

  Akira had spent the morning out here with the Okami after returning from their mission. He felt numb, like he always did after the rush of battle and the drugs that his suit pumped into his veins had subsided.

  He closed his eyes, thinking of Kichiro, hoping the stallion was safe.

  His thoughts shifted to a day many years ago when he had strolled through the gardens of Edo Castle with his wife and their son. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet scent. It was a memory he treasured, of a life that was not meant to be.

  He opened his eyes to the reality of his world.

  Life was precious, but war had cheapened it, especially out here, in the wastes beyond the megacity walls. Rising to his feet, Akira saw a group of kids kicking a soccer ball across a dusty field. Their tattered and filthy clothing revealed bony frames.

  Shadow Squad handed out rations when they left the compound, despite knowing some of these kids were sons and daughters of Coalition fighters. Their parents hadn’t made them dangerous. Not yet.

  In Akira’s eyes, children were innocents, no matter who they were born to, and part of his role as an Engine was to protect them. And sometimes, to educate them. Akira took in a deep breath as an itch formed in the back of his head.

  “You seem very agitated this morning, Captain,” Apeiron said in his mind. “I hope you are not upset. You performed well last night.”

  “Did you know?” Akira asked.

  “Know? Know what, Captain?”

  “What was going to happen?”

  “If I did, would that have changed your actions?”

  Akira grunted. He didn’t like games. Life wasn’t a simulation or a test. When people died, they didn’t come back.

  “Captain, are you okay?” came a voice.

  Akira turned to Perez who stepped out, shirtless.

  “You been out here all night, Cap,” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Akira shook his head.

  The older, gentle man looked out over the street where the kids continued their game of soccer.

  “Last night wasn’t your fault,” Perez said. “None of the suffering out here is necessary. If people would just accept AI, we could help them all.”

  “It’s not that simple.
”

  “It could be.

  “Chow’s ready, mates,” said Tadhg. He emerged in the doorway, his shoulders almost as wide as the frame.

  Frost and Ghost walked out with Tadhg.

  Okami ran over, wagging his metal tail and chewing a bone antler taken from a dead soldier.

  “There’s the little ankle biter,” Tadhg said.

  “He’s definitely more vicious than he looks,” Ghost said.

  The wolfdog wagged his tail, sniffed at Ghost, and then trotted inside.

  “Come in and get some food,” Frost insisted.

  “I’ll eat after a supply run,” Akira said.

  “Supply run?” Ghost asked. “We going on a scavenging mission?”

  The other Engines exchanged looks as Akira squeezed through them and made his way down to the community room.

  “Armor up,” Akira said. “We’re heading outside the walls to deliver that water to the locals.”

  Ghost jammed a fresh cigar in his mouth. “Good idea.”

  “Wait, it is?” Tadhg asked. “Sounds…”

  “Sounds what?” Akira interrupted.

  Tadhg grumbled a response that Akira couldn’t make out.

  “That’s what I thought,” Akira said.

  “Captain, that water is for the Nova Alliance Strike Force, 10th Expeditionary Assault Force,” Apeiron said over the squad comms. “You do not have authorization to distribute it to the locals.”

  Ghost lit the cigar and looked at Akira to see how he would react.

  “Twenty-one people are dead because we refused to hand over four trucks of water that these people desperately need,” Akira said. “Command risked the ceasefire for that?”

  “Yeah, and those trees got plenty of water if you ask me,” Ghost said.

  “I would note that the Coalition risked the ceasefire by trying to steal the water and attacking our personnel at the site,” Apeiron said.

  She was right about that, and the enemy had fired first. Rules of engagement gave the Engines every right to fire back, but rules of engagement didn’t take into consideration a fair fight.

  The nomads never stood a chance.

  Akira still felt responsible and there was more than enough water here at Oasis Outpost.

  Ghost blew out a puff of smoke that drifted toward Frost.

  She swatted it away and grunted. “Don’t you worry about all that smoking messin’ up your lungs?” she said.

  “Isn’t that why they’re augmented?” Ghost asked. He raised his arms, as if preparing to sing.

  Frost put her hands over her ears.

  “Ghost,” Akira said firmly.

  The lieutenant lowered his arms. “Sorry, Captain. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Apeiron, put up a UAV and send two Piston patrols to the market,” Akira said.

  He went outside with Okami to wait for the team to get ready. The droid wolfdog watched real flesh-and-blood dogs on the walls of the compound. There were three German Shepherds and a Doberman pincher with the sentries.

  Pistons ran morning drills in light armor, helmetless, sweat bleeding down their faces. Everyone was on high alert after word of the Coalition terror attacks at AAS sites around the world. The coordinated effort made Akira wonder if they were planning something bigger, if the attacks were just distractions. His experience fighting the Coalition told him that was exactly what they were.

  A group of Juggernaut pilots jogged in their mech-suits, stirring up a rooster-tail of dust inside the perimeter of the sand-colored walls. Hissing hydraulics rose over the whistle of the desert wind.

  On the tarmac in the center of the compound, military Hummer Droids carried crates of supplies from the bellies of MOTHs that had landed a few hours earlier.

  The vehicle outpost wasn’t far, and Akira saw the tankers parked under the metal roofs of the open hangars, along with three Hammerhead APCs with armored wheels, two hover Jeeps, and four cargo trucks, all covered in dust.

  “Piston patrols are ready to deploy,” Apeiron said.

  Akira led his team to a pair of water tankers. He climbed into the driver’s side of the first rig. Okami leapt up, easily clearing the five-foot jump and landing in Akira’s lap before hopping over to the center console.

  Ghost got into the passenger seat, his cigar still jammed between his lips.

  “I’ll find some tunes,” he said, fiddling with the music.

  Akira put the truck in gear and followed the APCs toward the western edge of the outpost, where two twenty-foot metal doors sealed off the outside road. A pair of Juggernaut Mechs manned the guard towers on the flanks of the door, their pulse cannons aimed out over the distant slums.

  The doors opened, revealing the kids outside. They abandoned their soccer ball to chase the convoy away from the base.

  “Hearts and minds,” Ghost said. “That’s what we should be doing with the Coalition nomads, despite our different ideologies. I bet most of these people just want to survive and don’t give a shit about AI.”

  “Wish it was that easy, but you know as well as I do that it’s not,” Akira replied.

  “Perhaps you picked the wrong career,” Tadhg said over the squad comms. “We’re not social workers, LT.”

  Ghost smiled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t do good.”

  Akira nodded in agreement. He respected and loved Ghost like a brother. Ghost had not just saved Akira’s life in the Sea of Trees, he had saved him by providing an opportunity to become an Engine after the painful loss of his family. On top of training Akira, Ghost had counseled him and provided a rare friendship to help Akira weather the rough times.

  Ten years had passed since the battle in the Sea of Trees. Throughout the decade the two warriors had deployed around the world, seeing the worst of human nature. And yet Ghost still remained optimistic, focusing on beauty in places most people saw only death. His jokes brought laughter and smiles to places like this, where hope was no longer part of the local vocabulary.

  “How about something to calm the nerves?” Ghost asked. He turned on classical orchestral music over their headsets, singing along while they drove.

  “What is this stupid shit?” Tadhg asked.

  “Ay-oh!” Ghost clicked his tongue. “Man, this is Ludwig van Beethoven, and it’s absolutely beautiful. Learn some class, you savage.”

  The classical symphony continued for a few more minutes before Tadhg switched to some old-school gangster rap.

  “Now we’re talking,” he said. He started to rap along, reciting the words in his gruff voice.

  “Please, for the love of AI, make it stop,” Frost said.

  “It’s not Beethoven, but it’s not terrible,” Ghost said.

  Perez laughed. “I think we’re about to get a sound-off between Ghost and Tadhg.”

  Okami barked, tail whipping with excitement as the two Engines took turns free styling.

  “Slay a Breaker or two, smoke a stogie with my dudes, just another day bringing death from the shadows,” Ghost said. “Ghost level, baby.”

  “Nice,” Perez said.

  “Not bad,” Akira said.

  “Not bad, but just wait,” Tadhg said.

  Akira took his eyes off the road for just a second when Ghost pointed and yelled, “Watch out, Captain!”

  He slammed on the brakes as a man pulling a husky donkey walked out of an alley onto the road with a cart full of vegetables. The farmer held up both hands, cursing.

  Waving, Akira motioned for the man to cross with his unusually large animal.

  “What the hell does he feed that donkey?” Ghost asked.

  “Probably the same crap Tadhg eats,” Frost said over the comms.

  The donkey crossed in front of the truck. It was big, almost the size of a horse. Akira thought of Kichiro and checked the horse’s beacon for the second time that morning. He was still in the same part of the historic district of Paris.

  I’ll find you,
old pal, Akira thought.

  “Can we be done with the music now?” Frost asked.

  “Yeah.” Akira nodded, and Ghost turned it off.

  The convoy continued, passing civilians who came to watch. Some waved, but most shouted profanities. The Nova Alliance wasn’t well liked in this area, and today Akira was hoping to change that a little bit. Every soul they helped was more goodwill toward the future peace that Apeiron had promised.

  A thin man sat in a wheelchair at the next intersection. His limb shook as he held a sign up asking for food. His fingers were twisted and gnarled, his arms bowed. He definitely had SANDS, which meant he would be dead in a month or less.

  Akira stopped at the intersection. He pulled an energy bar and tossed it out the window. The bar landed at the beggar’s bare feet. The man’s toes were nearly as crooked and curled as his fingers.

  “Poor bastard,” Ghost said.

  Akira watched the guy in the rear-view mirror. The man tremored as he bent to pick the bar off the ground and tore open the wrapper.

  “You ever think about what you’re going to do when this is over?” Ghost asked. He took a puff of his cigar and blew smoke into the air.

  Akira glanced over. “When what is over?”

  “War. Apeiron is going to end it, right?”

  “That is one of my objectives,” Apeiron said.

  Ghost put out his cigar and secured his helmet. “She just told me personally that my head is too pretty to get blown off.”

  Akira smiled and focused on the road.

  Over the next hill, the wind-blasted pyramids crested the horizon, their smooth tips reaching toward the reddish clouds. The next sector of the city was in disrepair with windowless buildings covered in cracks and toppled powerlines.

  Overhead, a UAV scanned the streets, transferring the aerial feed to the team’s HUDs. It passed over a market of metal shacks and stands. Hundreds of people stood in the blazing morning sun, bartering and selling goods.

  The lead APC pulled down the street, halting with a screech. The back hatch popped open, letting out a dozen Pistons. Akira stopped the truck and let Okami out. Then he pulled Blue Jay from his vest.

  It zipped away over the busy market.

  Hundreds of civilians crowded around to stare at the droid wolfdog and the huge, armored men and women unhooking hoses.