The Live Soldier Trilogy Box Set

by Liam Clay

  “Fucking hell. Why wasn’t your family affected?”

  “Because we’re social outcasts. A few years ago we tried to cultivate some land beyond the enclave’s borders, and the council slapped us down for it, hard. I’m sure you noticed the scorched earth vibe going on outside the gates? Well it’s like that because of us. But it saved our family in the end. No one wanted to connect with us, and so we were never infected by the virus. And now we’re pretty much all that’s left.”

  My beer buzz is rapidly devolving into a splitting headache. I want to go warn the others - or better yet, crawl into a ditch and cry. But Tikal has more questions.

  “That’s rough. So what are you doing about it?”

  Den looks blank. “Doing about it? Nothing. We’re too busy protecting our land from all the crazies trying to get in. Some of the victims went catatonic and died within weeks. But a lot more survived, and a few turned... mean. Those bastards think that if they kill everyone they were ever connected with, the voices in their head will go away. We call them Splitters. Most of them know better than to cross our turf, but some of their prey are still lucid enough to seek shelter here.”

  “And you turn them away?”

  “What other choice do we have? This is a survival game now.”

  Peace shoots me a meaningful look. “Makes sense to me. I just have one more question. How do you think your family will react when they meet us?”

  “Not sure. No one thought you guys would ever come down off your cloud. But you’ve drunk with us now, so according to our guest right, technically we’re not allowed to kill you. With heavy emphasis on the word technically.” She smirks. “Welcome to the Mezareen family freehold.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The sky clouds over an hour later, and the Threshers decide to nix the party. I hitch a ride to the Mezareen ranch on the back of Minus’s ATV. He shows no interest in talking, and fingers crossed it stays that way, because if he knew we were infected with the pooled link virus I’m sure he’d have lots to say. Actually, it’s only dumb luck they haven’t found out already. My retcom doesn’t record our linked conversations, which means the public never hears them, and so whoever edited my feed’s highlight package decided to omit our use of the technology entirely. But if even one Thresher bothers to watch the unedited version, we’re sunk. Let’s just hope they all have modern day attention spans.

  I spend most of the two-hour journey logged into my retcom. I never got around to reinstalling my old bamboo forest interface, and so the white space and blue lines of the software’s default package greet me upon entry. After twenty minutes of frantic searching, I’m forced to conclude that the pooled link installation folder is gone. I can’t find an icon for the actual program either. But I can still feel the link in my head, and I know that a moment’s thought would bring me back to that warm nothingness, surrounded by the minds of my squad. It’s as though the application has migrated from my retcom to my brain: trading circuitry for synapses, silicon for gray matter. I didn’t think that was possible, but this is foreign tech we’re talking about. So maybe that’s exactly what it did.

  Shit.

  We need to tell the squad; but the only way to do that right now is through the link, which strikes me as a spectacularly bad idea. Thank god Ethan badgered us into saving the technology for missions. But this is still royally fucked up. And sitting behind it all is the knowledge that I was the one who forced us to download it. Just like all those poor Thresher kids did to their own parents.

  Try to imagine a software glitch destroying an entire society. Can you do it? If not then give it another go, because that is the reality we live in. I kept my feed live because I wanted our citizens to rediscover the world, and it them. But what if insularity is the only thing keeping disasters - both technological and biological - from decimating my twin hometowns? And even scarier: what if my life is a virus itself, waiting to burn down everything I touch? Damn it, this shit is starting to feel heavy.

  Such is the mood I’m in when Sophie calls me. I don’t even know it’s her at first; she’s just a tiny voice bouncing off the walls of my inner ear.

  “Hello? Dad, are you there?”

  “Who’s that?” I whisper back. “Oh, Sophie... hi! How are you?”

  “Not great, Dad. Not great. It sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “How do - hey, have you been riding in on my feed? After your mother and I expressly forbade it?”

  “No! But everyone at school does, and my friend Tom told me something bad happened to you.” A sullen pause. “He wouldn’t tell me what, though. Said it was complicated and I wouldn’t understand. Tom’s older.” She adds.

  “I see. Uh, how much older?”

  “Seven months.”

  “Oh. I guess that’s alright then.”

  “Forget about Tom, Dad. He’s not my boyfriend or anything. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

  “Ugh, I just said he wasn’t my boyfriend. Why don’t adults ever listen?”

  “I am listening! And because I was listening so hard, I noticed that you seemed open to the idea of him being your boyfriend.”

  A sigh from her end. “And?”

  “And aren’t you too young to be interested in boys or girls like that?”

  “Get with the times, Dad. Lots of kids my age have partners.”

  “Partners? And what happened to you being really polite all the time?”

  “That was last year. I’m eight now. But if it will help you... pretty please, can you stop changing the subject and tell me what’s happening?”

  An imaginary ‘standard parenting’ manual in my head is telling me to say that everything is fine. But if there is one thing I’ve learned about my daughter, it’s that she doesn’t put up with bullshit. And as difficult as that trait makes her at times, it’s one I never want her to lose. So I suppose I should reward her precocious behavior with the truth.

  “Sophie, Tom’s right. We are in some trouble.”

  “How much?”

  “I’m not sure yet. We’ve been using a software program that turned out to be dangerous.”

  “The pooled link?”

  I don’t bother to ask how she knows this.

  “That’s right. The farmers here have been using it too, and it’s done bad things to them. But the more people you link with, the more dangerous it seems to be, and we’ve only connected with our platoon. So it might take longer for us to be affected.”

  “So what are you going to do? Uninstall the software?”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible. But we came here to find out what happened to the Thresh. And now that we know, the next step is to help these people if we can. And ourselves in the process.”

  “Okay, good. When can we talk again?”

  “Anytime you want. Oh, and Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “That’s nice. But I’m still mad at you for leaving.” She signs off.

  .

  As soon as the Mezareen ranch comes into view, I know we’re screwed. There are over 200 people in front of the sprawling mansion, and although the setting is different, I know a lynch mob when I see one. (Underworlders have a long history of letting group-think turn into group-punch and group-stab.) An array of mechanical enhancements are on display, many of which are strictly of the violence-perpetrating variety.

  I’m considering our next move when I notice that Minus looks nervous too. From Den, we know that his mother is the Mezareen headwoman. His strike against the train was actually well orchestrated (he managed to derail us without damaging the cargo) but maybe he expects to get in shit anyway. Assembling a lynch mob just to chew out your son seems like overkill, though, so I still think we’re in trouble.

  “Are these people all Mezareens?” Tikal asks Den as we climb off the ATVs.

  She nods. “The term family is used pretty loosely
here. Fourth cousins thrice removed and that sort of thing. But it’s unusual for Tesla - that’s Minus’s mom - to bring us all together like this. I wonder what’s going on.”

  Our group approaches the mob, which parts to make way for us. We find ourselves standing before a tall, rangy woman of about fifty. She’s all tendons and lean muscle, with a narrow face and a thick blonde braid pulled forward over one shoulder.

  “Where have you been?” She asks her son. Minus swallows.

  “We were down by the tracks in field 22, waiting to see if the stolen train would show up again. And it did! We retook it and got all the Anpel family produce back.”

  “Does this mean the Anpels survived the virus? Because if so, we should be apologizing for harvesting their crops and solidifying ties through marriage. Not starting a blood feud.”

  “It wasn’t them at all.” Minus points to us. “It was these guys.”

  “Then who are they, and why are they walking free and unchained?”

  “They’re Opacians, Mom.” A murmur from the crowd. “And they didn’t steal the train from us. Someone else did, and they stole it from them.”

  “Then who did steal the train?”

  Minus scratches his head. “Uh...”

  “You didn’t think to ask, did you?” She sighs in a motherly way, and then turns to me. “Out with it, stranger. What are you doing here, and who did you take the train from?”

  It’s all I can do to keep the relief off my face. She doesn’t know we’re infected.

  “We were sent by Opacity’s new government to find out why you dropped off the map. And the woman we took the train from was a Splitter, I think. She was using it to chase down one of her victims.”

  “So it had nothing to do with the Anpel produce.” Tesla muses. “And where were you going when my son waylaid you?”

  “To be honest? We didn’t really know. Somewhere with answers, hopefully.”

  “And now that you’ve found them, what do you intend to do?”

  “Um, help you?”

  The headwoman surveys us with a critical eye. “Seven people aren't going to do much good against what we’re facing.”

  “It won’t be just us.” Lucy cuts in smoothly. Ignoring my surprise, she launches into what sounds like a prewritten speech. “In light of the Thresh’s longstanding relationship with Opacity, our new government would like to offer its full support in this time of need. We can provide food, shelter and clothing for all displaced peoples, researchers to tackle the pooled link problem, and counselors to treat its victims. We ask for nothing in return, and promise never to lord it over you down the track.” She smiles. “How’s that sound?”

  Tesla still looks skeptical. “It would sound amazing if I thought it was possible. But where does Opacity intend to get all this food from?”

  Lucy smacks her head. “How silly of me. I forgot to mention that we recently took the Hive back from the Designer. The island’s new leader sends her greetings, and pledges to work together with Opacity on the relief effort. And as for the seven of us, we have personal reasons for wanting to help.”

  “And they are?”

  “The salesman who sold you the pooled link visited Opacity as well. Our old government bought it from him, and they forced us to download the software. So we’ve been infected too.”

  Clearly, Lucy has gone nuts and doomed us all. But the crowd is making sympathetic noises, so maybe some shred of hope remains. Then the headwoman raises her fist, and silence descends like a guillotine.

  “If what you say is true, then I imagine you would be interested in speaking with that salesman.”

  “I’d rather kick his head in than speak with him. But yes, we'd be very interested.”

  “Well you’re in luck, because we’ve received word that he’s back in the Thresh. In fact, we were just on our way to pay him a visit. Care to join us?”

  CHAPTER 7

  “What the hell just happened?” Delez asks me through the link.

  We are racing across burnt fields on our very own ATVs (lent to us by the Mezareens). Our weapons have been returned as well, and on paper things are starting to look up. But I’m even more worried than Delez.

  “I have no idea. Do you think this is a good time to be using the link, though?”

  “No, but we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Does Lucy have some extra clearance level I’m not aware of? Because I don’t remember Shion or Kalana promising to send that kind of aid to the Thresh.”

  “She doesn’t, and they didn’t. That was all made up.”

  “Fuck me. She goes weeks without speaking, and then this is the first thing to come out of her mouth? Why do you think she did it?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Five seconds later we’ve corralled Lucy into the ether with us.

  “Hey guys.” She says mildly. “Are you sure using the link is a good idea?”

  “Yes, we’re sure.” Delez replies impatiently. “Now could you please fill us in on the plan we’re very much hoping you have?”

  “Certainly. I wanted to guarantee that the Threshers get the assistance they need, so I took action.”

  “By making promises we have no way of keeping?”

  “I think you’re misjudging the situation. Most of Opacity and the Hive just heard us promise to help these people, yes? And as far as they know, we are simply messengers for Shion and Kalana. Which puts them in an interesting position. They can either call us liars and risk alienating our fans, or they can pretend this was their decision. Which do you think they’ll choose?”

  “And telling Tesla that we’re infected with the pooled link?”

  “How long do you think we could have kept that a secret? The Threshers were always going to find out eventually, and then they would have torn us apart in a fit of righteous rage. But the way I presented it provoked pity, especially after I promised to bring help. It’s all about the optics, see?”

  “Lucy?” Delez says slowly.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re a fucking genius.”

  After some debate, we decide to pull the others into the link as well. Once Lucy has explained herself, the conversation turns to next steps. It seems unlikely that the salesman would return here (unless he’s feeling suicidal). But if he has, then it’s imperative that we keep the Threshers from killing him. He may be the only person who can uninstall the link for us.

  “But won’t Tesla want him alive, too?” Francis asks. “He can’t help the affected Threshers if he’s a corpse.”

  “That’s assuming the Mezareens want to save the other families.” Tikal points out. “They weren’t exactly on the best of terms, and as things stand the enclave is theirs for the taking.”

  “True.” Peace agrees. “So we’d better find him first.”

  .

  The Hub is the closest thing to a city the Threshers have got. Each family has a compound within its boundaries, but the place really belongs to the council. Its members are elected for life, renounce all familial ties when they join, and reside in a slender tower called the Spoke that sits at the city’s exact geographical center. If Den is to be believed (she strikes me as the kind of person who might make shit up for a laugh) then the current Spoke is the fourth iteration - the previous three having been destroyed during various family feuds, coups, insurrections, etc.

  The Threshers may be known for their mechanical enhancements, but you can’t carve Eden out of the Eraser Valley without some serious horticultural game. And they’ve used this knowledge to create a perimeter around the Hub that is part security system and part art installation. If I had to describe it in three words, they would be: radioactive hedge maze. Tesla parks her ATV in the hedge’s shadow. The lynch mob does the same, and she climbs onto her seat to address them.

  “Alright people, listen up! Our scout saw the salesman with her own eyes, but that was 24 hours ago and from a distance. She doesn’t know where he is now.”

  “How did Yelona lose him?” A wease
l-faced guy calls out.

  “She says there are a lot of afflicted Threshers still alive in there, and some of them seem to be helping the salesman. He could be using a backdoor in the software to control them, but we don’t really know. Yelona got as close as she could without attracting notice.”

  “Can she at least point us in the right direction?”

  “No.”

  “Then how are we supposed to find him?”

  “How do you think, Rook? We split up and hunt him down like a dog. And I swear to god if you weren’t my nephew, I would do the same to you.” She raises her voice. “Anyone else have any stupid questions they want to ask?”

  No one does, and a few minutes later we’re driving slowly around the edge of the maze. We tried to go off by ourselves at first. But Tesla must have had words with her son, because his crew has draped itself over us like a pet snake. Reaching an entrance that looks slightly less forbidding than the others, we drive into the hulking plant life. The corridor is just wide enough to accommodate two ATVs, and I find myself at the front of the pack next to Minus. He is already displaying some of that famous teenage capacity for boredom, which means this might be a good time to ask him some questions.

  “Hey Minus, does the name Arella Calendo mean anything to you?”

  “Nope. Who’s that?”

  “Just a woman I’ve been looking for.”

  He grins. “I thought you were dating the red haired chick.”

  “I am. Calendo is her friend.”

  He nods sagely. “And you’re hoping for some three way action - I get it. It’s always hotter when they know each other.”

  I decide to let that one lie. “What about mercenary bands, then. Does the Thresh have any of those?”