by Dan Davis
Ram stood and began dictating his orders. “Get ready, everybody. Stirling, you take Cooper and Flores forward a hundred meters and cover us and I’ll—”
“Sir?” Fury said, looking through her scope at the fortress. “Gate’s opening.”
A man emerged, dressed in dark winter clothing. Dark boots, dark pants, a massive dark coat and thick hat. But in his hand, fluttering wildly in the wind, he carried a white sheet of cloth. The figure wandered toward them as if he had not a care in the world.
“What’s he doing?” Flores muttered.
“Acting casual,” Stirling said.
“But why?”
Ram answered. “In case the Hex are watching.”
“Wait, what?” Flores said. “If that guy thinks the Hex are watching, why’s he coming out at all?”
“Maybe he’s not sure,” Stirling said.
“Maybe it’s a trap,” Flores said.
“Alright, quiet down,” Ram said. “Stay out of sight and cover me.”
Ram stood, moving slowly, and stepped out of cover behind his tree with his rifle held low in one hand so as not to startle the approaching figure.
But Ram need not have bothered, for the man froze in shock the moment he laid eyes on him.
Fully encased in a powered suit of combat armor, Rama Seti was nine feet tall, with his face obscured behind the visor of his helm and he emerged from the shadows of the woodland like some giant ancient demon.
“My name is Rama,” he said, holding up a hand. His helm’s loudspeaker amplified his voice so that it was loud enough to carry in the wind. “I sent the note.”
The man looked around him, hesitating. He was clearly afraid, and understandably so, but he stood his ground. Behind his fur-lined hood and ski mask, his eyes were clear and bright blue.
“They’re looking for you,” the man said in a deep, steady voice.
“I know. We need access to the outpost beneath your fortress, there.”
The man rubbed his face and looked around at his huge stone structure before looking back at Ram.
“My people think this is a trick.”
Ram held a hand up. “We’re not with the Hex, if that’s what you mean.”
“It isn’t.”
“What, then?”
The man looked into the woods and then back at Ram. “Where are you from?”
“We are a unit working for UNOP.”
The man almost laughed, scoffing. “Try again. They were wiped off the face of the earth years ago.”
“We didn’t come from the face of the earth.”
“Underground?”
Ram pointed his finger straight up. “Far from it.”
The man hesitated. “Bullshit.”
“Our dropship was hit on our way in by Hex fire some way to the east of here. Listen, sir. Our mission objective is right there.” Ram pointed over the man’s head at the fortress. “Our intel didn’t say anything about a fortress being here. Or a town, which is what it looked like from the drone. But, listen, we have no interest in you or your people. We’re just passing through.”
He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That’s just what someone trying bypass our defenses would say.”
“Who would do that?”
He scoffed again. “Just about anyone who wants what we have. You could be from one of the towns to the south looking to take us over. Or a raiding band coming up before winter sets in.”
“Do I look like I’m from around here?”
“No, you do not. Neither did that drone we smashed.”
Ram glanced around. All his men were in hiding. When he spoke on the team band, he made sure that his local audio was still being broadcast so the man could hear him. “Red? Come up here. Slowly, please. Just show yourself so our new friend can see we aren’t from around here.”
“Certainly, Lieutenant, I shall do so quite carefully and slowly in what will no doubt be a vain attempt to avoid frightening the human leader you are conversing with.”
When Red rolled up out of the woodlands, the man took three steps backward before he recovered and held his ground.
“That’s a fucking wheeler,” he said. “What is this?”
Ram held up a hand to stop Red where he was. “This is a member of my team and his name is Red. He’s from a faction of wheelhunters who have allied with humanity against the Hex.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, unnamed human representative of your residential fortification.”
“Sure, how you doing?” He dragged his eyes back to Ram. “How many of you?”
“Six. Five humans and our loyal ally here in the fight against the Hex.”
The man nodded as he glanced over his shoulder for a moment. “Alright, yeah. Alright, my name’s Ewan Fraser.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fraser. I’m Lieutenant Rama Seti of the UNOP Marine Corps.”
Fraser raised his eyebrows. “Rama, huh? Alright.” He turned and waved a hand once, twice, three times. “Follow me. We’ll go quick. Stay behind me.”
Ram ordered his team to follow, switching his comms so that only they could hear him as the crossed the open ground. “Be ready for anything.”
The walls of the fortress looked ever more intimidating as they got closer. They were made from great stone blocks, like an ancient castle and Ram had the momentary sensation of being back in Avar, fighting a battle in medieval Europe. But he shook it off when he saw the gate up close. It was some kind of blast door constructed from thick steel plates bolted together and it swung inward on enormous hinges to allow them inside.
On the wall over the open gate, armed men looked down. Above their heads, the sky was turning into a swirling gray mass that seemed to be coming lower with every minute.
“I’ll go in with Cooper and Flores,” Ram said. “Stirling you cover us from out here with Red and Fury until its clear.”
“You can trust me,” the man said, looking back at the three waiting behind. “We’ll not try anything.”
“Good,” Ram said. “Even so, half my team will wait outside until we’re in the clear. Don’t take it personally.”
Fraser nodded. “It’d be better if you all got inside before the Hex see you.”
Ram looked around at the sky. “The Hex watch you?”
“We don’t know,” Fraser replied. “Don’t think so but they could if they wanted to, right?”
“Let’s hurry up, then,” Ram said, gesturing at the open gate.
The man turned and strode in while Ram, Cooper, and Flores followed. Towering over the rest, Ram felt as conspicuous as a human could get. Almost inhuman, in fact. Inside the gate, there was an enclosed, square courtyard with walls all around. A second gate on the right-hand wall led out of the square. Atop the walls, men and women stood with rifles aimed down at them. On the ground before them stood a group of four men, all wrapped in winter clothing and all holding their rifles ready in their hands.
“What is this?” Ram asked Fraser.
“Just a precaution,” Fraser replied, spreading his hands. “We have to be careful about who we open our gates to. We mean no harm, Lieutenant, I swear.”
“Sir?” Flores said on the team band. “This is no good. We can’t be here. We have to get out of here.”
Cooper spoke quickly. “Mostly ancient firearms but there’s some modern gear, too. Two grenade launchers, eleven o’clock and on our six, over the outer gate.”
“Alright, let’s all stay relaxed,” Ram said on the loudspeaker so that the people all around him could hear. Moving his hands slowly, Ram slung his weapon and reached for his helm.
“What are you doing, sir?” Flores asked.
“Wouldn’t do that, sir,” Cooper added.
Ram pulled open the lever at his neck, while his suit sounded warnings and flashed alerts on his AugHud. With a hiss of escaping air, Ram lifted off his helmet. Cold hit him like a slap in the face and his first breath of the icy air burned his throat and made his lungs ache. Never in his li
fe had he felt cold like it.
He looked around again, tilting his head up so they could all get a good look at him, before staring at the welcome committee of four right in front of him.
“My name is Rama Seti,” he said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him upon the walls. “I am an officer in the UNOP Marine Corps and this is my team. We came here to get access to what’s beneath your town. We have no interest in you. We had no idea you were even here. Our intel was out of date. All we want is access, in and out, and then we’ll be gone and you’ll never hear from us again.”
The figures stared down at him in silence until one of the men in front of him stepped forward, pulled back his hood and pulled the scarf down from his face. He was smiling.
“Rama Seti? The Rama Seti, the orb station guy?” The man laughed. “Are you serious? It’s you, isn’t it!”
Ram grinned. “That’s right. You’ve heard of me?”
One of the others in the group scoffed loudly. “Bullshit!”
“Oh, come on, Miller,” the first guy said, glancing over his shoulder. “Look at him, for God’s sake. Look at the size of him. It’s him, it’s really him. It’s the first Orb guy.”
“The guy died,” someone else said in a gravelly voice before spitting onto the ground.
“I did die,” Ram replied, nodding. “But they brought me back.”
The smiling man stepped closer and held out his hand. “I’m Albert Locklear, nice to meet you.”
Ram took the man’s hand in his own, dwarfing it and swallowing it up in his suit’s armored gauntlet. Albert didn’t seem to mind, though, shaking Ram’s hand and grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you want access to?” another voice called out from the small group.
He looked for the person who had spoken and raised his voice so that all could hear. “It’s an access hatch, leading to an outpost. Underground.”
“Ain’t nothing like that here,” one man said, and others nodded in agreement. There were a lot of confused faces.
But Ram noticed that Fraser and Locklear exchanged a look and shuffled their boots a little.
“Alright,” Ewan Fraser said. “Let’s get these guys inside, shall we? I think we need to call a town meeting.”
Someone shouted across the crowd. “I think we need to discuss it further right now, Mayor Fraser.”
“No,” Fraser said. “We do not. Open the inner gate.” He turned and looked up at Ram. “You want to bring the rest of your team in here, now? If you’ll join us, I need to assemble everyone in the town square and tell them what’s going on. Then you can get on with your mission. Does that sound alright to you, Lieutenant Seti?”
“Sounds great, Mayor Fraser,” Ram said, grinning. “Lead the way.”
6.
“You sure about this, sir?” Stirling said, his eyes darting around.
Ram was far from certain. “Everything is going to be fine,” Ram replied. “We’ll just get through this and they’ll take us to the entrance.”
The town square was in the opposite corner to the gate and it was like something from a bygone age. On four sides were neat little timber-framed buildings, most of them set back a little on the ground floor with a covered walkway all around, like a cloister. They stood by a small wooden platform like a stage from which a crowd could be addressed. Above them, the sky was low and swirling gray. Ram’s head was cold.
“They’re workshops,” Mayor Fraser said to Ram as they stood waiting for the hundreds of townsfolk to assemble in the square. “And the fronts of most of them are stores where the folks sell their produce. That one there’s Yazzie’s place, and he and his wife make fur-lined boots for just about the whole town. Next to it, that’s where Harris sells his game but most of the time him and his boys are out hunting. On the corner, see the one built in stone and brick? Nez is the smith and he sells and repairs iron tools, mostly. He’s got a forge out back. Nice place to work in winter. The Walkers have a surgery there, you see? Both doctors, like their folks, and all four of their children working with them. We’d all be dead a dozen times over if it weren’t for the Walkers fixing us up. And so on. Storefronts in front, workshops in back, and the families live above. And on market days, everyone else sets out their stores here in the square and trades for what they want.”
Ram nodded slowly while the mayor spoke. “No offense, Mayor, but it sounds like an old frontier town.”
Fraser frowned but in a good-natured fashion. “Well, why on earth would I be offended? That’s exactly what we are. Not much to the north except small towns on the coast that survive on whales and seals and the like. Too cold to farm much up here.”
“But you grow food. I saw all the gardens on the way in and on the drone that we flew over. Looked to me like maybe half of the land inside your walls is gardens.”
He smiled. “Everywhere up here is too cold to support a community our size other than within our walls. We’ve got our own microclimate on this spot. Sixty-four percent of the area is under cultivation and we have plenty under glasshouses or in hydroponics indoors. Each year, we agree who’s going to grow what and we trade so that everyone gets what they need. Enough to keep us in good health, assuming everything works as it’s supposed to. When the hunters are fortunate, we eat like kings. And our kids are growing up big and strong and that’s what we need if we’re going to continue the human race.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Seven years, now.”
“What brought you to this spot?”
Fraser hesitated. One of the others caught his eye and he nodded. “Everyone’s here, Lieutenant. Please excuse me for a moment.” He climbed the steps to the top of the platform and looked out. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s cold and I won’t keep you a moment longer than I have to. But I called you here to let you know what’s happening. As you will have seen, we have some guests. These people are a team from the UNOP Marine Corps. Yes, one of the team is the alien wheelhunter you see here. He is on our side and we will all treat him accordingly, just as we would any other honored guest. You know the wheelhunters have been enemies with the Hex far longer than we have, so please do not be concerned. A few hours ago, the Hex and their Wayfinder came looking for these men. I sent them away, saying I had never seen them, which was true at the time. We don’t know if the Wayfinder will come back. If he does while our guests are still here, it puts us all in danger.”
Fraser allowed the muttering to die down before continuing.
“The UNOP Marines have come to get access to something.” Fraser cleared his throat and looking meaningfully at a couple of men standing near to him. “Let me tell you a brief story that you haven’t heard before. It’s about when me and Albert Locklear and Dale and Walker Harris came up here, looking for a place to build Newhaven. As you may know, we never should have been this far north but Albert’s drones were showing the higher ground temperature of the area. We found the site, we tested the stone, surveyed for the layout, for the quarry. We thought we could make it work.”
Fraser cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, looking out over the townspeople in the square. They were waiting in silent expectation.
“We’d been on site, building, for about nine weeks when we found it. Understand, we’d already quarried and shaped countless tons of stone. We’d built most of the walls. We were committed, we’d already invested too much to move somewhere else, we didn’t have the fuel or the time.” Fraser ran a hand over his beard. “We were digging the foundations for the northeast tower when we found it. It was a steel hatch, ten feet square. Buried under about four tons of rubble, maybe two or three feet below the surface. Didn’t know what to make of it. No markings on it, no way to open it. We hammered on it a while. Thing must have been eight inches thick, I don’t know. Well, we discussed, those of us on site. Didn’t seem like reason enough to move somewhere else and anyway, like I said, there wasn’t time. We made a decision to cover it up and to keep it to oursel
ves until the day came when we had to tell you. Turns out, that day’s today.”
He let them mutter amongst themselves for a while.
Someone called out a question. “What’s inside?”
Fraser looked at Ram. “Do you want to come up, Lieutenant?”
Ram sighed and stepped up to the platform, which creaked and groaned under his weight. Hundreds of faces stared back at him from beneath their hoods and hats. “Hello, everybody. I think it’s best for you and for all of us if I don’t tell you much. But inside that hatch, there’s nothing that will hurt you.” Ram didn’t exactly know that was true. “And it’s important for the war against the Hex that we get inside, take something, and get out. Then we’re gone.”
“What war?” someone shouted. There was a chorus of mumbled agreement.
“Yeah,” another cried out. “You already lost.”
Ram’s instinct was to argue, or to say something inspiring about never giving up, but he bit it back. “We just want to take it and go.”
“But there’s nothing under here except the geothermal spring,” someone said. “How can there be anything down there?”
Ram turned to Fraser. “Geothermal spring?”
The mayor shrugged. “This entire rock outcrop stays at an average temperature of fifty-five degrees year-round which means a longer growing season and comfort in winter. We think it’s a geothermal hotspot beneath the rock, which heats it and also warms the aquifer and keeps the spring flowing so again we get freshwater year round.”
Ram’s comms sounded in his ear as Cooper muttered into it. “Actually, that’s probably the outpost’s nuclear power station. It taps into the local water source and also uses the rock as a radiator for dissipating excess heat.”
Stirling hissed a reply that echoed Ram’s thoughts. “For God’s sake, Cooper, don’t say that to any of these people.”
“Course not, Sarge. But it’ll be safe, not contaminated at all. Probably.”
“All I know,” Ram was saying while his team spoke in his ear, “is that we need access, now. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re gone.”