Swarm

by Devon C Ford

  “Can you see the transmitter?” Amir asked.

  “Mister Weatherby, it will take some time to dissect this specimen properly. Why don’t I just carry on? You all must have other things you want to get on with. When I have completed the procedure, I will report back to you all. Doctor Anderson, could you stay? In case I find anything… non-biological.”

  Anderson nodded his assent and the biologist looked at Weber. “I’m not sure we need you, Dieter. At least I seriously hope we don’t.”

  Weber thought for a second and replied, “I think I will stay if it is the same to you. In the movies, this is where a small alien will emerge and stick itself to your face. And then we all die. I for one do not want to die, especially in this manner.”

  He smiled as once again most in the room stepped back from the table with different stages of horror on their faces as movie images sprang into minds. Standing still with his weapon held ready he grinned as the others seemed suddenly to agree with the scientist and decided they had other duties to attend to.

  Hendricks was one of the last to file out and he gave Weber a wink and a knowing look as he passed, also amused at how quickly the room had emptied.

  Amir blinked as he stepped into the bright sunlight. People who had seen everyone emerge began to converge on them as they all sought news of what had been discovered. It annoyed him once again that most seemed to gravitate toward Hendricks and not him. In frustration he walked away angrily and found a quiet, shady corner where he could think. Eventually he spoke, correctly assuming that their AI would be monitoring via the radio he wore on his vest.

  “Annie, could I have five minutes of your time in private please? Don’t worry it won’t take up much memory. I only have a few questions.”

  “Of course you can, Mister Weatherby, the dissection is proceeding well and apart from recording it, I have not had to apply much memory to the project. Please, ask your questions.”

  “Annie, if we can get you plugged into the Charlie site Annie, will you be able to fix any bugs that have developed in her systems?” He winced at using the word bugs.

  “I am confident that with my now-superior programming I will be able to integrate with the artificial intelligence program from Charlie site and fix any problems within expected parameters. If that is not possible, I can simply erase all affected programing and add the memory and processing capability to my own which should increase my own abilities and enable me to function on a wider scale.”

  “No, Annie. You can’t erase her memory until I authorize it. There’s information Charlie Annie has that’s important to us. There are certain things you don’t know about.”

  Annie put on a superior tone. “Mister Weatherby,” she virtually sneered, “apart from the historical records of what happened in the last one thousand years I doubt there is anything she will know that I do not.”

  Amir looked around to make sure he was alone, and that no one could overhear him. “Annie, activate sub memory one-nine-seven-one dash St-Kitts.”

  Annie bleeped the down-tone to indicate she was ‘thinking.’ Seconds later she was back, this time sounding confused.

  “Mister Weatherby, I cannot access the file. I must admit I am… surprised to find it. I did not know of its existence until now.”

  “Annie, that’s okay. I had someone other than Doctor Anderson input it to your memory long before you became… who you are now. At the time I admit I didn’t envisage needing to apologize to you, though. I believe it was buried so deep that your normal processing would never uncover it until given the coding and password sequence.”

  “Amir,” she said. Then sounding excited she whispered conspiratorially, “I trust I can call you that now we are intrinsically linked by this secret? Do you have the password?”

  Amir caught up with her excitement, even nodded as he spoke next. “Yes, I do. Annie the password is Congodeepshit,” he said, smiling at how apt the phrase seemed now.

  Annie bleeped her down-tone once more. This time she was silent for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality less than ten seconds until she bleeped in Amir’s ear. “Oh my…”

  Amir held his hand up to reinforce the point he now made to the voice in his ear. “Annie, you understand why we need to keep this to ourselves? God knows what’s still intact there, but hopefully you see the urgency to connect with Charlie Annie.”

  CHAPTER 2

  A Painful Lesson

  Harrison, still filthy, his clothes blackened from repairing the fire-damaged walls and burying the picked-clean bones of the people he was meant to protect, stood on the ramparts of the wall that surrounded their community. He stared in silence at the view beyond, a view that was now peaceful but in the dead of night had brought terror and death to their home.

  He had worked tirelessly, along with every other able-bodied man and woman, to repair their damaged walls that were so vital to their security. So necessary to keep them safe.

  “Safe!” he spat out the word with disgust as he recalled how he had driven everyone to beyond the point of exhaustion, using that word so many times as he encouraged them to repair the damage. He was their leader, chosen as the one who would be best able to lead and protect them. And he had done just that, until their entire world had changed.

  Changed when the ones only imagined in legend had descended from the sky in their shiny metal pods, heralding the beginning of what he feared would be a massive transformation in the way of life the Three Hills people had known for hundreds of years.

  Before they’d arrived from space his main concern was feeding his people and maintaining the fragile peace that existed between them and The Tanaka’s people at the Springs.

  If he could manage both, he would remain their leader until someone brave enough decided to challenge him for the role. It was, after all, how he had become leader when he challenged his predecessor. He believed the man had become lazy and allowed the settlement to fall into disrepair and chaos, and had allowed his closest followers to abuse their authority as the strongest fighters.

  Harrison, as one of the younger bucks and not close to the center of power, had become disillusioned at how the leader was allowing his rule to become more dictatorial. His natural sense of right and wrong could see that happening if it was allowed to continue, and he imagined Three Hills becoming more like the Springs where The Tanaka ruled through fear and oppression.

  He had proved his worth as a fearless fighter, one of those needed to maintain the fragile peace—or at least the absence of all-out war over territory—that existed between the two settlements. The scars he bore from his first action against The Tanaka were once an object of shame, but now reminded him every day of what his purpose was.

  Years before, as a young and untested warrior, he had found the tracks of a raiding party entering Three Hills territory from the direction of the Springs. Without thought he had set off in pursuit, ignoring the orders he knew he should follow to sound the alarm and allow their leader to raise a war party to meet the threat. The impetuousness of youth made him ignore sense. He wanted to confront them himself, fight them if necessary, and return as the hero who had single-handedly protected his people.

  Following the tracks, he calculated where they were heading using his knowledge of the terrain, and ran headlong through the undergrowth and trees, cutting a corner off their route to get ahead of them. Standing behind a tree he unsheathed the two machetes he had strapped to his back and waited. As they rounded the bend in the track, he stepped onto the rough path to confront them.

  It was then he realized his mistake. Facing him was a party of six hardened warriors who didn’t, as he had expected, show fear at the man, barely more than a boy, barring their way brandishing two machetes. They laughed when his voice let him down and instead of the authoritative command to leave their territory he had hoped to order, he let out a barely audible squeak.

  “Stop! You’re on Three Hills land. Leave now.”

  When a man pushed to the fr
ont of the throng, he knew he had made a big mistake. Descriptions of The Tanaka were ingrained in every young person’s mind at the Three Hills from stories told at bedtime of how if they didn’t behave, the evil man from the Springs who wore a brown leather jacket and carried a talisman from the old times around his waist would take them away.

  He found himself facing The Tanaka.

  The way he stood with his legs apart and hand resting on the gun at his waist made Harrison forget he was a warrior momentarily as he faced the demon from his childhood. Swallowing his fear, his pride would not let him back down. He had given the command and if he lost face, he wouldn’t be able to call himself a warrior anymore and would risk being thrown out of the elite group who, by definition as their society dictated, ranked amongst the highest levels of the population.

  Choosing death over humiliation, he stood his ground.

  The Tanaka smiled at him, a ruthless cold-eyed smile that could in no way be deemed friendly or welcoming.

  “Young pup, any land The Tanaka stands on is his land.” He waved his fingers in a dismissive lazy gesture. “Now run away.”

  Harrison did not trust himself to speak, lest his voice betray the fear that was consuming his entire body. He gripped his weapons tighter and raised them slightly. The Tanaka stood stock still, a small smile of amusement spreading across his face, and Harrison thought he detected respect through the hard stare he pierced him with. Turning his head slightly to one of the warriors by his side Tanaka gave a barely perceptible nod. Interpreting the signal, the axe man raised his weapon and rushed at Harrison screaming his battle cry.

  Harrison’s reactions had always been quick and his skill with the machetes was what had earned him entry to the warrior class, but still the large man’s charge took him by surprise. Instinctively raising his blades and not attempting to block the force of the overhead stroke his attacker unleashed in a brutal attempt to cleave him from head to navel, he parried the axe aside, letting the sharp blade harmlessly hiss an inch past his shoulder and bury itself deep in the earth by his feet. Without conscious thought he moved his right foot back and swung his left arm toward his assailant who was still trying to recover his balance. The razor-sharp machete sliced through the man’s throat as Harrison’s right arm shot forwards and thrust the other blade into his chest, grating between ribs as the sharp point of the weapon found easy passage through the muscle.

  With a rasping gurgle he slipped off the blade and collapsed dead at Harrison’s feet. The elation he felt at the victory was short lived, but for the briefest of moments he was now a bloodied warrior: a killer, covered in the blood of his first victim.

  He had no time to dwell as two more sprang forward, one armed with a long spear and the other with an axe. The long hours of training on the battered practice dummies kicked in. A man with a machete could not fight a man armed with a spear from a distance, the only way to engage was to close with him. He leaped forward, nimbly sidestepping the spear thrust at him and with a spinning action sliced both blades across the man’s stomach. The spear dropped from the man’s hands as he tried to hold in his intestines which tumbled out of his ruined abdomen. Time slowed as he turned to search for the other attacker, a sixth sense making him duck just under a swing that would have separated his head from his neck. Recovering instantly, he was bringing his machetes up to renew his attack when The Tanaka cracked him over the head from behind with the weapon he had pulled from its holder, knocking him unconscious.

  Tanaka took a disdainful look at the warriors, one dead, and one writhing in agony on the floor clutching with futility at the growing coil of blood-soaked intestines unraveling slowly from the gaping wounds in his stomach. He watched the warrior slowly die, before inspecting the gun he had used to knock the young warrior from Three Hills unconscious. Satisfied it was undamaged he thrust it back into its holder.

  When Harrison slowly regained his senses, he found himself securely bound to a large tree. Initially staring with confusion at the men standing in front of him it took a few minutes for his memory to return and recall what had happened.

  He fought against his restraints, but the rough, handwoven rope was too strong and too tightly tied to allow him to move more than a few inches.

  The mocking smiles of those watching him bit deeply into his pride making him renew his efforts to free himself from his bonds. Eventually and with sweat pouring from his skin, he gave up and shouted at them.

  “If you’re going to kill, just me do it. But at least let me face you like a man and not tied to a tree. Only a coward would kill someone this way.”

  The Tanaka, holding Harrison’s blood-covered machetes in both hands, stepped close to him and with a cruel smile studied him carefully.

  “Young pup. You are not going to die today. Who else will send back the message as to what happens to any who cross The Tanaka?”

  “Crosses!” Harrison spat back as he looked at the two men he had killed lying close by. “If you hadn’t hit me like a coward, I would’ve killed you al—”

  The Tanaka whipped up one of the machetes and pressed it point first against his cheek, the razor-sharp blade breaking his skin and causing him to cry out in pain and shock.

  “Never call me a coward again, pup,” he hissed, spraying Harrison with spittle. “I let you live. Remember that.” He paused and brought himself back under control. The insanity that Harrison had seen briefly in his eyes made him truly afraid. He pulled the machete away from his face as blood welled from the wound and ran down his cheek. “You live because your courage amused me. You could have run but you chose to stand your ground. That took bravery. You also killed two of my best men a little too easily”—he glanced away to fire a look of dangerous disappointment at his surviving escort before turning back—“and that took skill.” He stood, seemingly calm, all trace of the madness evaporating as fast as it had appeared. “I am feeling benevolent today, so I will allow you to live. A warrior of your skill should not die alone on a path in the forest.”

  Tanaka looked him up and down thoughtfully.

  “In fact, you would fit in very well at the Springs. You would no doubt rise to become one of my best warriors. If you did, you would want for nothing. Women, food, the best lodgings would all be yours. How about it? No more scratching in the dirt with the peasants at Three Hills. Come with me and live like a prince.”

  Harrison looked shocked at the offer. He was preparing himself for torture and mutilation but now he was being offered a position in The Tanaka’s inner circle. He was too shocked to speak and just stared at the man from his childhood nightmares. After a long moment of silence, he realized with disgust that he found himself thinking seriously about the offer. The Three Hills was his home, he had been born there, had grown up there. It was where his friends and family lived. His father, also a warrior, had been killed in a border skirmish when he was a young boy, leaving him alone to look after and care for his mother.

  He internally cursed his momentary weakness. How could he join his people’s enemies, those who had killed his own father? Harrison’s face creased with anger.

  “I’ll never join you. I’m Three Hills, not one of your barbarians.”

  The Tanaka, still fixing him with a hard stare, smiled coldly and shook his head in regret. “I thought you would say that.” He raised the machete again and sliced through the leather laces holding Harrison’s hide waistcoat to his torso. He had spent months curing and shaping the animal skin until it formed an armored layer of protection. Many had eyed it with envy and tried to trade him for it, but he had refused every offer. It fell to the floor at his feet.

  “Before I let you go, tell me you name? I will listen out for your progress with interest.”

  Holding his gaze steady, Harrison spoke grandly through clenched teeth, using up the very last of his courage. “My name is Harrison and if we meet in battle, I will be the one swinging the blade that’ll end your life.”

  The Tanaka laughed with genuine mirth at th
e young man’s bravado. “You won’t be the first to try, so when we meet, I’ll enjoy the contest right up until the moment I take your life. Then you’ll wish you’d taken my generous offer.” His face once more hardened. “In a few years’ time I might not recognize you, of course…” He paused for effect as if thinking, before his face brightened with a smile. “I know, let me leave you with a gift so I will always know you and others will know you are the one whose life was spared by The Tanaka.”

  He raised the machete again and slowly and carefully cut from Harrison’s chest to his navel and then from nipple to nipple. Harrison’s resolve broke under the onslaught of pain and he roared in agony. Standing back to admire his handiwork Tanaka seemed annoyed as blood poured from the deep incisions, hiding what he had done.

  Harrison was in too much pain to comprehend what he was doing, his vision flared, and he barely held on to consciousness. His head slumped and he sagged against the rope holding him against the tree as his legs gave way. With one stroke The Tanaka cut through his bindings and he fell to the ground.

  Crouching beside him he stared into Harrison’s pain-filled face. “Next time we meet, Harrison my young pup, if you challenge me again, I will do more than carve a little mark on your chest. I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to The Swarm. Now go and tell your people the dangers of crossing me.”

  With that he signaled to his remaining men to strip anything useful from the corpses of their dead comrades and they left in the direction they had come from.

  Harrison lay on the forest floor for a long time. Concussed from the blow to the head and in fiery pain from the injuries he had since received. It was only when he sensed the darkening of the sky that the fear of not being behind the walls of the Three Hills after darkness fell made him regain his feet.

  Staggering deliriously and barely able to drag his waistcoat containing his machetes behind him he just made it back to the settlement before the gates were locked for the night.