The Biomass Revolution ttc-1

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “What do you see?” Creo asked.

  Nathar swung around, annoyed. “Nothing yet. I’m not picking up any heat signatures.” It was the second time Creo had asked him in as many minutes, and Nathar was getting tired of sitting on his ass and keeping watch.

  “Do you want to trade me spots?” Nathar asked.

  Creo stood, putting a hand on Nathar’s shoulder. “No, I’ll check on the new recruits. Let me know if you see anything.”

  “Will do,” Nathar said. He turned to scan the shadows below. The work was part of his job as a scout with Squad 19. Over the years he had spent as much time silently watching as he had sleeping. It simply came with the territory, but tonight he was anxious. The minutes passed by like hours.

  He listened to the sounds of the night and watched the shadows dance through the antique junkyard. Obi and Ajax still hadn’t shown up and Nathar was beginning to worry.

  And he didn’t like to worry. It was unnecessary, getting all worked up over something he couldn’t control. There was no shortage of things to worry about, with the TDU having suffered such extreme losses, but Nathar normally didn’t let these things affect him.

  He reminded himself he was a scout, part of Squad 19—the most revered unit in the TDU, feared by the Royal Knights and known throughout Tisaia. Members of the squad didn’t worry. They did what they had to do to get things done.

  A sudden flash of yellow light broke through the darkness opposite his position and disappeared into the sky. He turned quickly, zooming in with his night vision goggles, but there was only darkness. There were no heat signatures or signs of life.

  A few seconds passed and the same golden light shot out again. It was too quick to be a signaling unit, but then again Obi and Ajax probably didn’t have one to begin with. Whatever it was, someone was trying to get his attention. His instinct was to signal back, but something didn’t feel right.

  For a long moment he sat there scanning the landscape below, jumping as a cold hand grabbed his shoulder. He twisted, startled to see Creo staring down at the junkyard.

  “I saw it.”

  “There,” Nathar whispered, his right hand pointing at a pair of smashed trucks piled against a concrete barrier about 100 yards from their position.

  “Three heat signatures behind the trucks.” Creo whispered again.

  “Should I signal? It has to be them.”

  Creo nodded again. “Send out the signal.”

  Nathar reached into his pocket and grabbed a small device from his pack. He clicked it on and a laser shot into the sky, visible only to those who had goggles designed to pick it up. It was a nifty device, one he had stolen from a patrol of Knights a few years back. The TDU engineers retrofitted it so the laser could only be picked up by Squad 19’s night vision goggles.

  Within seconds three figures emerged, slowly making their way towards Nathar’s location.

  Creo took aim with his sniper rifle, cautious of a potential trap, but lowered it as Nathar smiled. They watched the familiar shape of Ajax emerge from the shadows. Thrilled to see their comrades safe, the two climbed down the ladder and jumped onto the dirt below, a cloud of invisible dust rising into the darkness.

  “Damn good to see you, brother,” Nathar said, embracing the large man with a quick hug.

  “Holy shit, you smell like a damn latrine!” Nathar said, laughing.

  Ajax shrugged, “Not the first time and won’t be the last.”

  “Who is this?” Creo interrupted, motioning towards Spurious. The moonlight broke through a cloud and illuminated his swollen face and clothing, lurid with blood stains.

  “This is Spurious. He works for SGS. His work focuses primarily on the tunnels. And he is the key we’ve been waiting for,” Obi said, cracking a sly smile.

  Spurious turned, a confused look on his bruised face.

  Obi patted him on the back reassuringly. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time to fill you in, Spurious. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Time: 5:55 a.m. February 24, 2071.

  Location: The Wastelands

  Obi went over the plan in his head. It sounded crazy, even to him, but he knew it might be their only chance at taking out the CRK’s headquarters and, if they had the chance, the Capitol building as well. If this happened Obi was sure the commoners, immigrants and other State workers would rise to the cause, toppling the government.

  Obi smiled coyly in the darkness. He had led his men to and from Tisaia many times, but never did he imagine he would be in a situation like this. Their headquarters had been destroyed, their commanders killed, and as far as he knew, he was the highest ranking TDU soldier left. This meant his life expectancy just dropped dramatically.

  No one lives forever.

  He laughed at the cliché, stopping to look over at what was, as far as he knew, all that was left of the TDU. He took a moment to scan the four new recruits: all young men, no older than 30, dressed in raggedy clothing and equipped with antique assault rifles.

  Obi shook his head. He tried to suppress the anger he felt, but after seeing so much death it was difficult. Nonetheless he continued on, weaving around the charred skeletons of old cars and trucks. In the distance a few structures jutted out of broken landscape. He stopped, motioning for the squad to do the same.

  Not two hundred yards away sat two structures, their roofs long gone from the torturous wind. He watched an old sign creaking eerily in the wind, the lettering barely visible in the moonlight. 7Eleven, the sign read. Obi instantly recognized it, recalling the chain of gas stations from his youth. He could still remember hanging out in the parking lot after classes as a boy. Years before the bombs dropped.

  “Watch my six,” Obi whispered to Ajax, taking off in a sprint towards the structures. He knew it was unlikely there would be any stragglers or raiders this close to the Tisaian walls, but he hadn’t lived this long by taking unnecessary risks.

  Silently he propped himself up against the outside of the building and peered in one of the broken windows. “Empty,” he whispered under his breath.

  He flashed a quick hand signal and the squad joined him. “Everyone take five,” he whispered.

  They only had about three more miles to go before they reached the rendezvous, but with only an hour of darkness left, he knew time was running out. He wanted to avoid getting caught in the light, even though he knew the chance of crossing paths with any raiders at this hour was slim.

  The squad trudged on cautiously down the old highway. Suddenly, Obi halted, balling his hands into a fist. He could vaguely make out the skeletons of what was once a lush forest of trees. He had been here before, years ago on a scavenging mission. From his recollection of the area he knew the silo was not far.

  Obi massaged the whiskers growing on his face, trying to fight off the drowsiness. He squinted again and caught sight of the barbed wired fence surrounding the old silo. His night vision wasn’t picking up any heat signatures. He craned his neck to get a better look at a mound of dirt in the center of the compound. With the naked eye it looked like nothing more than a burial site. But he knew underneath was a door—and under that door was a ladder extending hundreds of feet into the bunker of a silo. He knew because he had been the scout to cover it with dirt years before.

  “What do you think, boss?” Ajax whispered from behind.

  “Follow me, we are here,” he said, heading towards the silhouette of the building.

  Time: 12:05 p.m. February 24, 2071.

  Location: Silo. The Wastelands

  Spurious awoke from a terrible dream. It took a while for his eyes to adjust and for reality to set in. As soon as he saw the other soldiers he remembered. He remembered it all; Lana, the firefight, the march through the Wastelands, meeting the other TDU members and John. It didn’t take long before the horror slowly began to rise within him, a knot forming deep in his stomach. He lurched forward.

  “Boss, he’s awake,” Ajax yelled from the corner of the small room.

  Sp
urious sat up, his hand rubbing the lump on his face.

  “I hope you slept well, because we have a lot of work to do. Take a few minutes to get your wits and then follow me to the table,” Obi said.

  Spurious tried to listen, but his thoughts turned to Lana. He shook his head, hoping the act would stop the thoughts from penetrating his mind. But all it did was make his head throb more. He was hungry for air, needing it like a starving animal.

  Obi and Ajax veered out of his way as he made his way for the door. He glanced at John and the other TDU members, who sat around a large table in the adjacent room. The door swung open and a brief flare of sunlight hit him in the eyes, bringing him to his knees. “Lana,” he whimpered, his hands shielding his eyes from the rare sunlight.

  The world began to spin, pulling him into a trance. He choked and vomit exploded from his mouth before he collapsed to the dusty ground.

  * * *

  An hour had passed and Obi began to worry. He watched Juliana apply a warm rag to Spurious’ forehead as he lay staring at the ceiling blankly.

  It was just as Obi had feared. The death of Lana had taken over his mind, and his grief was too much to handle.

  “Damn, boss, what are we going to do? He looks like a zombie.” Ajax asked.

  Obi didn’t respond. He sat in the corner of the room watching Spurious. He knew if he didn’t snap out of it soon they were going to have to leave him. The silo wouldn’t be safe for more than a few days. And in this state, he was going to be a travel liability.

  “Screw it, we don’t have time for this,” Obi said under his breath. He dragged his chair across the room and positioned it next to Spurious’ bed.

  “Spurious…” Obi paused, glancing over at Juliana and motioning for her to take a break. She smiled before retreating to the table with the others.

  He leaned over Spurious and continued. “What I’m about to tell you, I have never told anyone.”

  Obi shot a quick look over his shoulder to make sure none of his men were listening.

  “The other night, when I saw you holding Lana, I had a flashback. It was a memory I haven’t had for years. Something I blocked because it hurt too much. When I was a child, my mother was shot by raiders. She died in my father’s arms, just like I watched Lana die in yours.”

  Obi coughed and massaged his whiskers again, thinking of what to say next. “When I saw your anguish, your grief, I remembered why I joined the TDU. I did it, I think, for the same reasons your parents helped form it—for all of those people who can’t fight themselves; for the immigrants, the Rohanian’s, and the survivors dwelling beyond the walls.”

  Silence filled the room and Obi watched Spurious for a reaction, any reaction, but the young man continued to stare at the ceiling.

  “Spurious, we need you. We need you to help free Tisaia and restore the dream it was formed on, the dream of freedom. I know we’re asking a lot. But last night you asked me something. Do you remember what it was?”

  Obi didn’t realize it, but Spurious was listening to him—listening to his voice; the soft, almost fragile tone caressing his eardrums, helping relieve some of his fear.

  Spurious stirred, his eyes darting over to Obi and catching his gaze. “I remember,” he said, abruptly.

  Obi stiffened, shocked at the spontaneous reaction.

  “What do you need me to do?” Spurious asked quietly.

  Obi scratched his whiskers again, silence washing over the room. He didn’t dare turn to the others now that Spurious was acknowledging him.

  “We need your expertise on the tunnels. Specifically, we need you to help us review some maps. And…” Obi paused. “We need you to get us access to the tunnels beneath the CRK headquarters.”

  “How am I supposed to give you access?” Spurious asked. Anya would have already reported him to the CRK and a team of Knights would be tearing his flat apart.

  Spurious forgot about his AI and apartment as a hand tugged on his shoulder. “We know you have had extensive access to maps of the tunnels under Tisaia. Obviously, we’re interested in these maps, especially those of the tunnels connecting to the catacombs under the CRK headquarters. Your SGS clearance should give you admission to these tunnels. Even if it has been revoked we can reprogram the card, plant our explosives and escape.”

  Spurious closed his eyes.

  So this is what Leo meant.

  “Once the CRK headquarters has been destroyed, the Governor will not be able to prevent an uprising. Tisaia will rise to our cause. I can assure you, Rohania is full of TDU supporters and there are hundreds of them in Lunia as well. We’ll then focus our attack on the guards at the immigrant camps. Behind those barbed wire fences lays an army waiting for this opportunity, and has been for a while,” Obi said, pausing to catch his breath.

  Spurious gazed up at Obi’s face. Scars lined the man’s aged skin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. He looked broken, signs of a soldier fighting for far too long, but something in his face was also trustworthy. Maybe it was his kind eyes, or perhaps his convincing voice. There was also the silver cross he wore around his neck. It was the same shape of the cross Spurious had bought from the antique store in the East Village a few years back. Which meant Obi was a religious man, in a world where it had all but been forgotten. This intrigued Spurious. Whatever it was about the man, he trusted him and knew his parents would want him to help the plan succeed.

  This was the life chosen for me.

  Chapter 13: The Biomass Revolution

  “Revolutions are the locomotives of history.”

  ~ Karl Marx

  Time: 5:01 p.m. February 24, 2071.

  Location: Silo. The Wastelands

  Obi stared at several maps spread out over a large wooden table in the basement of the Silo. The bunker was just like he remembered it; cramped, dark and rancid.

  “I don’t believe it, for God’s sake. These are all old maps?” he asked, bringing his hand down on the table.

  The room was filled with what was left of the TDU. They watched intensely from metal chairs behind the table, hope flickering in some eyes and doubt in others.

  Obi paced back and forth while Spurious reviewed the maps. He tried to concentrate, but the ancient wall lights flickered, a result of the dust storm hammering the roof far above.

  “That wasn’t a rhetorical question Spurious. Are you really telling me all of these maps are old, and finding a route into the CRK tunnels is going to be next to impossible?” Obi asked.

  Spurious studied the maps, trying to fight the drowsiness. “Yeah, these maps are all old as dirt. I mean, some of these tunnels are still there, but some have caved in, been blown up, or filled with storm water,” Spurious said, pausing.

  “The tunnels you need access to aren’t on any maps you would ever be able to obtain. The CRK will have made sure of that. Luckily, they’re up here,” Spurious said, pointing at his head.

  Obi gritted his teeth. “I was hoping we weren’t going to have to rely on your memory of blueprints, but if that’s all we have, then that’s all we have.”

  “Where is the rest of the TDU?” Spurious asked suddenly.

  Ajax jumped up and grabbed the back of his chair, swinging him around. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ajax roared, a large vein in his forehead bulging out.

  “Back off Ajax!” Obi yelled. “Yes, Spurious. The men in this room and a few upstairs are the all that remains of the TDU. And that…” Obi hesitated. He pulled himself from the maps and looked Spurious straight in his eyes. “That is why we need you so badly.”

  Spurious took an audible breath, still shaking from being lifted into the air by Ajax.

  “Right now, there are probably a dozen Justice Committee agents waiting to storm my flat. Lana is dead. My life is over,” Spurious said.

  Slowly he raised his head, studying the fear and desperation present in the faces of every soldier. Finally he nodded. “If you promise this plan has a chance of working, I’ll be your guide.”

  Obi
clapped his hands together. “Yes!” he yelled. “We’re in business again, men!”

  Time: 6:05 a.m. February 25, 2071.

  Location: Silo. The Wastelands

  Spurious had never been a religious man. He was more of a humanist, believing the good in people was more important than anything supernatural. But on the morning of his departure back to Tisaia, he found himself kneeling on the cement floor of the silo.

  Spurious had become sick of faith. He had lost patience with it. He had seen too many of his friends die and watched them laid to rest, only to decompose in the ground from which they had come.

  Now he had the opportunity to be part of something bigger than himself and to avenge the deaths of Paulo, Lana and his parents. He was going to fight. He would fight to the end. He would create his own destiny.

  As the morning sun struggled to peek out from behind the clouds, Squad 19 began gathering their belongings, preparing for the journey across the Wastelands.

  Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, John emerged from the other room. “Well, it sure was nice having guests. Good luck to you all,” he said, yawning.

  Obi wasn’t sure if the old man knew the dire situation they were in. He wasn’t sure the man was even sane, living out in The Wastelands by himself, but he appreciated his hospitality nonetheless.

  “Thank you for the food and shelter,” Obi said, shaking the rough man’s hand before running to catch up with Spurious.

  “Wait up for a second, will you?” Obi asked, following him out of the door.

  “I want you to know we’re not the people you have heard about in the paper or at work. In fact, whether you want to believe it or not, we follow the same principles and philosophies your very own parents preached years ago in the infant stages of the TDU,” Obi said, placing his hand on Spurious’ shoulder. “The innocent people who died in attacks during the past decade were never meant to be killed. Our goal has always been to take out the CRK and form a new democratic government. With your help we can finally accomplish this, but I have to ask,” Obi said, stopping to look Spurious in his eyes. “You do realize that this may be a one way trip, right?”