Emergence

by David Haskell

  “For taking better care of me than I deserve, that’s what,” Liam steadied himself, reminding both of them that this wasn’t the first scrape in which J.Z. had saved the day.

  “At your service,” J.Z. said with a sarcastic bow.

  Shooter flitted into sight, just beyond the ridge where the others had retreated. “Hey Shooter,” J.Z. said casually into his controller, “think you can find us a way out of here?”

  The drone signaled acknowledgement. They slowly began moving, following the same zig-zag pattern as their aerial escort, who was able to track enemy positions in realtime. Without him, they likely wouldn’t have made it out alive.

  “Remind me to give that little sucker a commendation when we get back,” Liam quipped. He winced, favoring his left side.

  “Stay quiet,” J.Z. ordered, then he softened his tone and added, “you need to save your strength, boss.” He pointed to a path up the ridge, “Shooter’s almost got us home. Just a few more meters...”

  Liam appreciated the encouragement, and took his friend’s advice to keep quiet. In fact, he realized that he no longer had the breath to speak. He was finding it difficult to breath at all. The pain was really stabbing now. Even though they were nearly in the clear, he felt his energy drain at a worrisome rate. Give ‘em both a commendation, he thought before the ground flew up and smashed his face.

  FLASHES OF MEMORY FADED in and out for the rest of the day; J.Z. watching over him until reinforcements arrived. A fresh-faced EMT giving him a once over and saying, ‘Hang on, Liam, we’ll get you there’. Being carried on a stretcher, receiving an injection. When he came to, it was dark outside, and he was considerably stronger.

  “Look who’s back from the dead,” J.Z. said quietly. He’d been in that same spot in the corner of the room, seemingly every time Liam had opened his eyes.

  “How long have I...”

  “Couple hours. Doc says you shouldn’t be disturbed till morning, but Sam wants to see you if you’re up to it.”

  Liam lay back, a sudden dizziness overcoming him.

  “Or not,” J.Z. said worriedly.

  “No, it’s fine,” Liam sat up a little, forcing himself to alertness, “send him in. I need to debrief him anyway.”

  “No need. I took care of that. But I’ll get him.”

  As J.Z. walked out of the room, Liam marveled at the fact that he felt as well as he did. He had J.Z. to thank for it. J.Z. and his drone, that most unlikely pair of heroes. To think that I didn’t want him around once. The thought that J.Z. was at one point not to be trusted, was difficult to fathom now. They’d been through so much since then. The next few days would be all the more painful for it. That the endgame didn’t include humans — not even J.Z. — filled Liam with a deep and troubling regret. It couldn’t be helped, but J.Z. would be devastated nonetheless.

  SAM ENTERED THE ROOM and went wide-eyed, shocked at his leader’s condition. Liam tried to reassure his soldier with a quick smile and a straight back. This snapped Sam into an awareness at his own shocked expression, and he covered it up with a quick glance out the window.

  “Nothing to see there, I’m afraid,” Liam said, motioning for his friend to take a chair. “Good to see you.”

  Sam sat. “You look good,” he squeaked, clearing his throat and looking away again.

  “Liar.” Liam sat himself up a little more, trying to assume a commanding presence. “I’m sorry to saddle you with this Sam, but I need you to handle the update this time...”

  Sam knew what he was saying. He would come off extremely weak if he appeared in this condition, assuming he could do it at all.

  “No worries, I’ll cover it.”

  “Just the basics, you don’t need to give a full accounting or anything.”

  “It’s fine, Liam. You rest. I’ll handle the briefing.”

  “Thanks Sam. You know, I have faith in you—”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  “I haven’t asked any of you before because—” He stopped to take a long breath. The conversation was taking its toll. “Because I didn’t want to expose the rest of you any more than I had to,” he finished. He reached feebly for the water pitcher. Sam got the hint and grabbed it, pouring a half-cup and handing it to Liam.

  “We know, Liam. But it’s time for some of us to start stepping up. We want to do what we can.”

  “I know. And you’ll do fine. Just stick to the basics.”

  “You said that already.”

  Liam coughed. “Did I?” He drained the cup and let his hand drop. “Anyway, you’ll do fine. I’ll be on my feet soon enough, but in the meantime—”

  “I’ll hold down the fort for you. We all will.”

  “I know you will. Thank you, Sam. I know I can count on you.” More coughs came, piercing his insides where he’d been stitched up. He put a hand to his side, coughing more.

  “I’ll let you rest,” Sam said, rising.

  Liam nodded, no longer able to speak. He could barely pick up an arm to wave, a weak effort that Sam appreciated nonetheless. He waved back, then turned and walked out quickly.

  A few minutes later J.Z. had returned to his post, but said nothing. Liam drifted in and out of unconsciousness for the rest of the day.

  66.

  Free Evolution Report

  Broadcast Will Commence Momentarily

  0:13

  Sam stood proud at the podium, clearly savoring the moment. He’d been waiting a long time for the opportunity to represent the freevos. Allowing the clock to run down as Liam always did, he nodded to the camera when the green light flashed and opened his mouth to speak. But his breath seemed to catch in his throat before the words could come out. He looked around as if suddenly disoriented, and the next moment he was plunging forward and down. When his head struck the podium, his body recoiled, folding and flailing like a tossed rag-doll, before crashing hard onto the floor. His face, almost peaceful except for the slight appearance of surprise, stared out with empty eyes. Blood ran from several wounds in spurts, the last vestiges of a nervous system shutting down, but he clearly felt no pain. Dead on his way to the ground, there were no screams, no reaction of any kind that might’ve been expected.

  Surrounding him, the closest half-dozen freevos slackened and looked about to fall as well. Limbs buckling, heads lolling like crazy, as if on strings held by some mad puppetmaster, all tangled and pulled apart.

  There was a second of stunned silence, then a bloodchilling scream from the back, followed by a panic stricken voice; ‘They’re going to kill us!’ That was all it took to cause a mad scramble for the exits — freevos stumbling over one another in their rush to get out, while others, recovered from the shock and surging forward, reached for the stricken ones. The sight of one of their own, lifeless and cold, struck fear in their gut even as their minds told them to stand, be brave, and fight. But Cain didn’t stop there. Sam was just the first target to fall.

  With all the freevos surrounding him, the next target was selected, and Cain gave the order. Nox, who was cradling Sam in his arms and screaming for a medic, went silent as he jerked stiffly upward, then fell. He landed right on top of Sam’s body, the two of them heaped into a gruesome embrace. Five more collateral victims succumbed to the weapon then. With that, the terror took full effect, causing the rest to run for their lives.

  With brutal precision, Cain and his ‘forcers had done what no army could. They ensured that Free Republic would never again stand fearless against them, nor could any sympathizer declare their allegiance with impunity. It wasn’t the act of killing by itself, but the method of delivery that made it so shockingly effective. The collateral effect on so many, merely for standing nearby, unnerved even the bravest of them. Each of them felt as if they, too, had come within an inch of demise.

  ONLY SAM’S BODY WAS recovered out of the crush. The others were left behind in the stampede out of the building. It was only much later that the numerous fallen freevos were identified at all, when they were fina
lly able to regroup and count their numbers. Added to the loss of Nox and Sam, nine more were confirmed dead. Two additional xenos were thought to be dead as well, new recruits both. But sources inside the city indicated that they’d been seen in the custody of the peace force, strongly implying that they’d defected. Capture was a possibility, but the level of fear surging through the group made the notion of surrender a more viable theory.

  And the fear was palpable, from the top down. No one was immune from the shock of this new reality.

  “We should just split up again, there’s no way they get us all!” This was ‘Lucky’, another newbie, who wasn’t the first to bring up escape. The pitch of his voice indicated that he might be ready to join the other two deserters, if he didn’t hear what he wanted to hear. Having proven his loyalty on the streets, and being a dedicated member of the group, if he was feeling this way it was likely that others were, too.

  “By ourselves? They’ll pick us off as soon as any of us show our faces.” Liam replied, struggling with pain, but working to keep everyone calm. “We’ve got to stick together.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Lucky shot back. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they were capable of! We’re all as good as cannon fodder now!”

  Liam bowed his head, the burning shame of his neglect sinking in. He had watched, horrified, as his friends fell, one after the other. And he should have been the first one to die. But he couldn’t allow his people to know just how damaged he’d been by all of this. He still had to lead. So he let Lucky’s stinging rebuke pass unchallenged.

  “Hang on! Everybody calm down! This isn’t the time to panic, we’ve got to keep it together.”

  It wasn’t Liam speaking, but Jon. Steady Jon. Quiet Jon. Liam had to think back, curious if Jon had ever spoken up before. Liam realized with a start that the ones who normally spoke on his behalf were all dead now.

  “Thank you, Jon. Everyone, please — let’s just calm down and think this through. We’re not done yet, and we’re not giving up. We need to assemble a reconnaissance team, and figure out just how they’re positioning these things against us. I’m going to need someone to lead...”

  CAIN’S SWARM PILOT was a veteran soldier, well accustomed to Loktr protocols, and had been hand-selected for this first, most important show of force. With Cain ripping into him, though, he looked every bit the scared cadet, getting chewed out for some minor infraction.

  “What did I tell you about the intervals?” Cain was near the top of his lungs, and turning red on top of it.

  “Three minutes, sir.”

  “Three minutes?”

  “Yes, sir.” The pilot maintained his stance. Only his gaze wavered slightly under the assault, revealing his genuine fear to everyone.

  Cain lowered his voice, an even more frightening tone emerging. “Then why in hell did you make it five?”

  “Sir, I miscalculated the recovery time.”

  “And you neglected to inform me of that monumental fuckup.”

  It wasn’t a question, and so the soldier remained silent.

  “You miscalculated twice, did you?”

  At this, the other xeno looked confused. He didn’t answer right away, and Cain continued on like he was talking to a child. “You killed two target terrorists. Your recovery error was after the first kill, was it not?”

  “Yes,” replied the pilot, “it was, sir. After the first. Between the first and second, I mean.”

  “Then why, pray tell, did you extend the interval between the second and the third?”

  And there was the reason for Cain’s pique. He wanted another target taken out. By waiting too long, the swarm pilot missed his chance to take out a third high-value target. And it wasn’t likely they’d be grouped in such quarters again, either. This was their chance.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “I didn’t ask for a damned apology, I asked for an explanation.”

  “I have no explanation, sir,” the poor soldier finally said. “I choked.”

  Cain grunted, turned, and left the room, leaving the soldier still standing there at attention. Let him stand there all day, Cain thought. The greater the infraction, the more time Cain preferred to let them think about their fate. This one would be waiting weeks, at least, before getting his reassignment to the biohazard squad.

  Damn it. Though his mind was still stuck in the failed operation, he was starting to think ahead to the next move, integrating the old into the new. Three kills was the plan. Three would’ve made for a more effective demonstration of force, of the shock and awe he was after. Ramp up the second wave, then. That’s all there is to do. He lifted his mobile screen and adjusted the numbers.

  67.

  A swarm of Loktrs hummed along the abandoned thoroughfare of what was once a bustling sector of Tera-Prime. It broke into smaller clouds at each intersection and alleyway, zipping down and back again to rejoin the main cloud. Compliant citizens cowered in their dwellings and workplaces, forbidden to walk the streets past curfew. The swarm ignored them, focusing on faint signals from the ones who neglected to check in. Following ‘locate and identify’, they were authorized to use deadly force in the removal of such threats.

  A group of escapees huddled in the shadows, utilizing makeshift jamming technology to mask their individual signals. Acting on information smuggled in through freevo backchannels, they had spent days planning their escape, putting together the tools necessary to stay one step ahead of the swarms. But it wouldn’t be effective for long.

  “Is it safe?” one of the children asked, her frightened whisper carrying much too far along the deserted street.

  “Not yet,” the leader shushed, peering into his mobile, which had been specially configured to key in on the ‘bots. “Give the stragglers a few more seconds to catch up.”

  “There’s no time!” another said, an edge of panic in his whisper-shout. “We’ve got to go!”

  “No!” The leader gave him a sharp-eyed glare. “We have to wait. The swarm might double back.”

  They waited, but whatever stragglers they were fearing never appeared. As soon as the swarm was safely beyond range, the group headed out into the open street. From there they broke for an underground access hole before anyone spotted them and sounded the alarm. The citizen informants were almost as dangerous as the swarms, since the penalty for silence was just as grave as non-compliance. Besides, most non-loyals had moved out of the city long ago. The remaining fugitives were few in number, and dwindling fast. If they couldn’t get safely outside of Loktr range, most of them would be dead or captured within days.

  In preparation for the fugitives, the Mind had re-purposed a legion of service drones. They would meet the escaping xenos below ground, and lead them to processing centers deep in the bowels of the city. There they could wait out the coming days in relative safety. But they had to make it down below first. The Mind could deal with any swarms that violated restricted areas. After the first few swarms had been vaporized, they adapted their patterns, hovering near the entrances and taking out as many xenos as they could from the outside.

  Close to the surface, more groups broke for the underground, following the urgent warnings of those who came before them. And the swarms were only half the danger. Scores of escaping xenos were now running just steps ahead of the killing wave, while those left just behind them dropped and died.

  As the lucky ones looked back to their lost friends, powerless to help, a few remained clearheaded enough to record what was going on. The videos marked no screams, no writhing, not even a last breath. Just life to lifelessness in the blink of an eye, and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground. These images went out into the world, before Cain could lift a finger to stop them. But he wasn’t much concerned about that.

  DESPITE PROTESTS AROUND national security, Tera-Prime footage found its way into worldwide news programs within hours, prompting riots in three major metropolitan areas in an angry backlash. In New York, images of the carnage flashe
d on giant screens, high above the crowds. A mob of mostly human protesters broke through a police line and stormed the Tera-Prime consulate, which thankfully had been evacuated hours earlier, but the political implications were significant nonetheless. Xeno officials were no longer safe abroad, and within a day, field offices were closed, and political appointees back in the safety of Tera-Prime.

  Ordinary xenos weren’t so lucky. Caught in the middle of what had become a hot conflict, the sentiment on the street was against them. There were the sympathizers, of course, and they lended protection and support in the thick of the protest zones. But at the same time, xenos going about their business elsewhere were marked for derision, or worse.

  A xeno couple were charging up their vehicle in the outskirts of Kansas City when a redneck bunch rolled up and began catcalling the female. Her companion, reacting in the heat of the moment, called for them to screw off. The assault turned ugly as he was dragged two miles tied to the back of their pickup. Critically injured, he became a symbol for the common xeno, caught up in the middle, more and more forced to choose sides.

  For the first time, ordinary xeno citizens took to disguising themselves, freevo style. This likely saved many from harm, but in two instances led to further bloodshed. Unaccustomed to posing as a person, a xeno high schooler revealed herself in a general store while on vacation with her elders. The owner, armed and dangerous, accused her of being a freevo terrorist and shot her in the back as she ran.

  The other one, an elderly female, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time — a group of freevo’s had been spotted recently, and she was assumed to be an accomplice. Severely beaten by vigilantes before the authorities arrived, she managed to identify the assailants to the police, who promptly sabotaged the case on a dropped-evidence technicality. This led to citizen groups of xenos forming a protective counter-protest, shielding each other against both roving gangs and the police.