Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

  The drill emerged straight up for three meters, then four, and then it stopped, a hiss building as a panel recessed inward. Bright light spilled out and the hands of a Proc gripped the inside edge of the door, long fingers pale and inhuman, like a spider’s legs.

  Breslin came thundering up behind me, all pretense of stealth abandoned. I saw Neve and Silk aim their rifles at the door per my instructions, and I grabbed the Proc’s hand and pulled hard enough that the bones crunched like pottery in my grip. A keening wail erupted from the doorway as the Proc fell out, arm flopping as his rifle spun away harmlessly.

  Silk’s rifle cracked, followed by Neve’s as two rounds split the air just past my outstretched hand, and I heard a deep grunt inside the drill. I held up a hand and waved Breslin on, then dove inside the drill with my blades out. There were three more Procs inside, but one was spectacularly dead, his skull split in two by a shot that spattered his entire brainpan backward like an impressionist painting gone wrong. The other two lifted weapons, but not fast enough. One got off a shot that went high, striking the interior panel of the drill and sending sparks showering down on me as I dove onto the closer Proc, who was doing his best to fire a wicked looking snub-nosed weapon straight into my gut. I batted the pistol—or whatever it was—away, but the Proc was long and fast. His foot crunched into my knee with savage force, turning me away even as Breslin’s fist connected with the sound of a ham being tenderized by a sledgehammer. The first Proc dropped like a stone, and the second regained some of her senses, stepping back behind a complex seat that had oxygen tubes and other connections running up into what served as the ceiling. I threw my blade with all I had, sending it punching through the seat to skewer her in the longest part of her inhuman thigh.

  Her scream nearly deafened me, but she was made quiet by another of Breslin’s devastating punches. This one caught her in the neck—a terrible place to be hit, and an even worse place to take a punch from a man who can lift a horse. The Proc fell straight to the floor, splitting her chin on the chair with a sickening splat as blood and teeth oozed from the right side of her mouth.

  “I’d say she’s done,” Breslin rasped, his voice still hit with anger.

  I pushed against her slack form with my boot. Her body lolled, either dead or unconscious. “I’d say you’re right.” I leaned back so I could see outside where Silk and Neve stood over the wounded Proc I’d thrown out like a sack of trash. He was still, but watching all of us with a predatory awareness that I didn’t like.

  I looked around the inside of the drill and found it all rather familiar. Signs were in English. Gauges were readable, and the screens flashed language and terminology that were unusual but not exotic. This was technology from my time, and most likely, my society. How it had been built in secret was no concern of mine, as the entire military state of the twenty-first century was made of shadows and half-truths, hidden from the public for the supposed greater good.

  “Name?” I asked the Proc.

  He responded by turning his head and spitting on the ground. I didn’t think it was a gesture of defiance, as his mouth was full of blood from the effects of my little throw. I knew we didn’t have time even though Silk had gone to speak to the farmers, who were understandably alarmed at the sight on their land. It isn’t every day that a giant metal drill appears, spews forth semi-humans with guns, and spawns a firefight.

  I crouched, eager to move things along when it looked like he wasn’t going to speak. “Breslin, knife.”

  He handed me a slim blade, small and as close to a scalpel as I had, but it would work.

  “Hold him?” Breslin asked.

  “Please,” I said, the knife flashing in the sunset.

  Breslin clamped his meaty fists on the wounded Proc, who looked at us in stupefied awe.

  “I told Korac I’m not a torturer, and I’m not,” I said, slicing the Proc’s uniform open. It was a tough fabric with synthetic threads running vertically through it, but they parted easily enough when I leaned into the cut.

  “Korac?” The Proc looked at us all in turn, unsure of what our game was.

  “I’m not lying. I don’t lie, and I don’t even have time to lie, not with the way things are proceeding. I can’t wait any longer, now that I understand just what you are, and what you intend to keep doing so that you can survive,” I said. “However, I can’t risk any of your people coming to look for you.” The knife flickered forward, cutting into the Proc’s skin, and I repeated the same shape that even now was healing on Korac’s chest.

  Right where his identifier had been.

  With a gasp of raw pain, the Proc arched his back against the powerful hold of Breslin, whose arms strained slightly at the violent response to my impromptu surgery. With two fingers, I tore the tracker free, dripping blood and something clear, like an insulation to keep it separate from his tissue. In seconds, the tracker was bagged and in the hands of one of the farmers—a young woman built like a long-distance runner. Silk gave her some quiet instructions, turning back to me with a satisfied smile on her full lips.

  “There’s a creek to the east. She’ll put it on a float and send it downstream,” Silk said.

  “Perfect. We’ll leave the others here,” I said.

  The Proc had recovered enough to care about what was going to happen to him. “What about me?” he growled, his voice tight with pain.

  “Oh, that’s the easy part. You’re going to pilot us back to the Oasis, and if you don’t, I’ll cut you until your vocal cords burst from screaming. You can pilot the drill, can’t you?” I asked in a pleasant tone.

  He thought about it, then Breslin leaned down and whispered something in his ear, and all the remaining blood drained from the Proc’s face in one horrid second.

  “I can,” said the Proc.

  “Welcome aboard! So glad you’ve joined the team. See? I told you I wasn’t a torturer,” I said cheerfully, and we lifted the Proc into the drill, all our weapons pointed directly at him.

  Including Breslin.

  We arrived at the outskirts of the Oasis, having called ahead with our surprising news. The drill rode like an oxcart, but hotter, and I was thankful to emerge from it into the starry night, sweat streaming down my face as I stepped onto the familiar sands of the Empty.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Mira said, her mouth falling open in awe.

  “I know, right? You should ride in it. The underground radar is a tech that we need to have, even if it’s only adapted to other applications,” I said, wiping sweat from my face as I stepped away from the heat bloom of the drill. Breslin had the Proc in his grip, and I looked around for Beba. “Get him to medical and have his hand set. Feed him, clean him up, and have him placed under guard near the center of town. I’m going home to shower and eat, and then we’ll rally at the central fire in an hour. I want everyone in the planning circle there—I want sitreps on our rally point, combat readiness, weapons, and even how many Konnodar are going in with us. I’ve got to consider how we’re going to use this drill to our advantage, but—hey how many drills are there?” I asked the Proc.

  “Answer him,” Breslin said, and it was anything but a question.

  “I think that’s obvious,” the Proc said.

  He refused to give us his name, which was fine for the time being. I could wait. I followed his finger to a massive outline on the center panel of the drill. A three. “Before you ask, there were five. One was lost in a seismic event to the east, long ago. One is inoperable due to a systems issue with the reactor, but we’ll have it running once we find another source.”

  “I have that covered. When we take them, we’ll have it powered in less than a day. I’m sure there are uses that will come to me when I’ve got something in my stomach,” I said.

  “I know what it’s for,” came a voice from the darkness. It was Lasser, striding up with a look of wonder on his face. “Irrigation.”

  “Ah,” I said, as the possibilities unfolded in my mind like a puzzle that ha
d been solved.

  “We’ll never have to waste massive efforts on canals, channels—even wells. We can find water and send it anywhere we want. Think of what those people can do, rather than work in the sun like ogres? This is a massive leap forward for us, Jack!” Lasser’s eyes were fever bright in the glow from the streetlights. I felt the same way, now that the idea was catching hold within me.

  “That’s your next project,” I said to Lasser, “after we capture Kassos and the other drills. For now, make notes. We’re off home. See you all in an hour,” I said in dismissal.

  Silk took my arm and we walked briskly through the night, her face cast into shadows by the pools of light from the lamps hung every ten meters. We arrived home and went inside, shedding our clothes and gear as we went, unerringly, to the shower. She stepped in and turned on the water, but I sat down outside the clay tiled stall, cross-legged and thinking.

  “Is it the Proc?” she asked, washing herself with a vigor she saved for returning home from the desert.

  “Among other things. If they have other drills, then I’m wondering what else we don’t know?”

  “Quite a lot. It’s a big world, and this is proof that a lot more survived than you thought. Your world didn’t die, Jack. It was wounded, sure, but it didn’t die,” she said. Her black hair was dripping, dark against the pale expanse of her breasts. She lifted a brow of invitation, and I stood because I’d have to be dead or stupid to say no to her, and I don’t think I qualify as either, yet.

  I let the gentle spray rinse me, then Silk leaned against my chest, her bum pressed up against me as she looked over her shoulder, waiting for a kiss. I obliged. I trusted her in ways I couldn’t imagine, and as the Oasis grew more complex, I knew these simple moments with her would become even more valuable. My arms were around her and she crossed hers over mine, and we just stood, letting the water wash the desert away, lost in our thoughts and the presence of each other for a stolen moment.

  She started, then looked up and back at me. “Why aren’t you feeling me up?”

  “What?”

  “Your hands. They’re not really on my breasts, and I don’t feel your breath in my ear, and”—she reached back and cupped my balls in her hand, then stroked my shaft—“I’m just saying, I feel like we’re missing an opportunity here.”

  “You are so perfectly bad that I forget myself sometimes,” I said, laughing. “But that’s my fault, not yours. I wonder if we should have scheduled dates, so we can . . .” I trailed off, knowing that was impossible. World building came between us, and Silk was a critical component of everything happening. We would have to steal time, and we both knew it.

  She looked forward then, putting her hands back on the muscles of my forearms, her fingers running lightly along them. “There will be a fight like no other,” she said.

  “There has to be.”

  “I know,” she said, and that was all we could say. I wanted her, and she wanted me, but the fight would come between us, so we stood there in the warm water, feeling the seconds drain away like water through my hands.

  Silk turned back again, kissed me hard, then soft, and then our tongues touched like friends who had been apart for too long. I slipped my hands up to cup her full breasts, the skin slick and warm, nipples rising to meet my touch. I kissed her neck, and the top of her ear, and then I slid my right hand down the flat muscles of her stomach and gently worked my thumb inside in, earning a gasp of agreement at my choice. She adjusted her hips in a subtle motion of welcome, and I began to move my fingers, exploring her gently, then using pressure in a lazy figure eight, resting for a moment on either side of the center. With soft strokes, I moved my fingers up and down in a vee, and Silk’s eyes began to flutter.

  “Too many men go right for the prize, but I happen . . . to know . . . that there are two points—long points, actually—on either side, and they simply don’t get enough attention,” I said, continuing to kiss as I discussed the finer points of the clitoris and its surrounding territory. “If it were a map, it would resemble little legs, and I, for one, appreciate legs.”

  “I didn’t know you—were—shit that’s good—a biologist.” Silk’s breath was coming short and fast now, and I continued my steady pace, touching her as if we had all the time in the world.

  “I am when it comes to you,” I said, turning her mouth to meet mine as her legs went to jelly. She came in waves, sagging against me with a contented sigh when she was done. There was a red flush across her breasts, and she reached back to drape an arm across the back of my neck.

  The first cool hint of water told me our shower had ended, and it was time to go back to the world and everything that meant. With a reluctant hand, Silk turned off the water and we stood dripping, looking at each other as the implications of what might happen rolled over us in an unwelcome, suffocating second of reality.

  She kissed me again, then took my face in her hands. “Let’s go to the fire so you can tell everyone what you have planned.”

  “What makes you think I have a plan?”

  Silk’s grin was accompanied by a shake of her head as she handed me a towel. “The only time you don’t have a plan is when you’re naked. Other than that, you know exactly what direction you’re headed, and where we’re headed as a people.”

  “That sounds about right,” I admitted, wiping at my chest as I considered the next few moments. I did have a plan, but as to whether or not we could use it—that depended on a kind of fighter I had no control over. “Let’s go see what the cavalry can do.”

  Moments later, I stood next to the firepit, the flames low and casting dancing shadows over the faces of everyone gathered. They looked tense, with the exception of Mira, who looked excited. She had a personal interest in seeing Kassos fall, as her family history had been made far worse by the presence of slavers, Wetterick, and his brutal crew. Wetterick and his men were long since dead, put back into the earth by me or my people, and Kassos was the remaining thorn in Mira’s side

  “I’ve gathered information that changes my decision about Kassos,” I said, earning a series of groans and hisses, but no one actually spoke outright. I patted the air with my hands to reassure everyone I hadn’t lost the narrative. “Don’t misunderstand me. We take Kassos, but it’s not exactly what we thought. You know we have two Procs in our custody, and more are dead. Make no mistake—the Procs are calling the tune in Kassos, and they have been since the city was built.”

  “What do they use for control?” Lasser asked, his long face shadowed in the firelight.

  “The promise of heaven, of course. They offer ‘bots, long life, and all manner of things to the ruling class, and in return, they harvest the people when and where they can without causing a stampede among the cattle, you might say. When they run out potential victims, they venture to the farms and outposts, and then return to Kassos and other places in order to do their grim work,” I said.

  Silence fell on the group, then Beba raised her hand. “What do they harvest from these people, Jack?”

  “Central nervous systems, glands, and from what I understand, stem cells, when they can. Aristine’s people are working on the problem right now, and with the begrudging help of our Proc guests, I mean to understand exactly why these creatures act like some kind of parasites. That isn’t as important as stopping them, though, so that’s why we’re here. Give me numbers of combat ready troops, weapons, and anything else I need to put us in motion. Tegan, what of your people?”

  “I have sixteen hippos in full armor, along with sixty Konnodar. All carry the gun mounts and, if not the newest weapons, then an automatic big bore at minimum. All animals are healthy, but untested in battle with guns—with swords, yes, they’ve fought that way, but this will be new to them, as well as their riders. They stand ready at the rally point just north of here, in good order,” Tegan said. Her report was crisp and professional, and I gave her a thankful smile.

  “So we’ve got the heavies going in. What about foot? Armor?”
I asked.

  Yulin spoke up from the shadows. “Ten trucks with gun mounts, and ten smaller vehicles. We can’t spare the buses, and they wouldn’t get far anyway. We also have eighty Daymares in that column alone; my sister can tell you the strength of her platoons better than I.”

  “General?” I asked Aristine.

  “I have forty hardened Daymares and fifty more ready to fight with goggles. They’re not fully acclimatized to full sun, so if the fight goes past noon, their effectiveness will drop like a stone, but as to their quality, there is none better,” Aristine said.

  “Andi? What about air?” I asked. Andi was swiping a tablet, nodding to herself. When she looked up, I could tell she was nervous. She was a hardass, but she was also an engineer, and numbers meant something to her.

  “I’ll have both Vampires in the air, three Condors, and one fire-and-forget model I cobbled together in case you want to perform a hit,” Andi said.

  “A hit?” I asked.

  “A fatal attack by the unmanned drone. I’ve got a nose cone with three pounds of explosives, and the drone can reach speeds of two hundred knots. You give me a location—even below ground—and I can rattle it hard, if not blow it to pieces. All I need are coordinates. Or a tightbeam. Either one,” Andi said.

  I let that sink in for a good long while, then smiled. “That might come in handy, now that you mention it. With our people here, we have three hundred combat ready and all the tech support we can hope for. What about Valor?”

  In answer, a wolf cut loose with a blood-curdling howl, just outside the city.

  “She told you she would wait outside. Didn’t think her pretties would play well in a big group at night,” Yulin said, smiling with dark glee.

  “I’ll be sure to thank her, then. Okay, commanders with me. I’ll show you the plan up close, and then we march out two hours before dawn. We’ll arrive at Kassos in the night, and we attack without hesitation thirty minutes before sunup. I want them shitting in their beds when the first spray of darts hits from the Condors. Dismissed,” I said, and the group began to filter away in small groups, talking in low, urgent tones.