Necrotic Earth

by SW Matthews

  Necrotic Earth

  S.W. Matthews

  Copyright © 2017 S.W. Matthews

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Excerpt from Pol Smallboy’s “Just and Inevitable” speech, Exemplar City, Mars, 2209

  “We can now travel to the Centauri system.” (applause)

  “As we enter this new stage of expansion, it is awe-inspiring to realize that the true manifest destiny of humankind is being revealed.” (applause) “The fact that the discovery that enabled the colonization of our small collection of planets and moons also led to our ability to travel beyond them supports the belief that the only true barrier to our continued advancement is our own imagination and discipline.” (applause)

  “Similarly, we alone have the capacity for our demise, and preventing a repetition of past transgressions is of utmost importance. As we begin to explore this new solar system, it is paramount to recall the tumultuous path we navigated to arrive at this milestone—to remember past failures and circumvent them in order to fully achieve our objective and relish the grandeur of this monumental accomplishment.” (applause)

  “Currently the human population approaches thirty billion, with settlements on three planets, five moons, and several mining outposts. We have succeeded in establishing peaceful, prosperous civilizations based on knowledge, integrity, personal responsibility, and industrial pursuit. But there was a time when the survival of our species was uncertain. Even doubtful. Difficult to believe now, perhaps, but true nonetheless.

  “It was hundreds of years ago. Planet Earth had been subjected to a series of events from which there was little chance of recovery. This was before we had learned how to manipulate planets, or attained the ability to leave.

  “In the mid-2000s, unprecedented seismic activity altered the surface of our original home, killing billions. The weakened and frightened survivors responded the only way they could—and war soon followed. The result was death for billions more, and the transformation of Earth from a verdant globe of abundance to a dead sphere of sand and salt water. The deserts quickly spread for thousands of miles on both sides of the equator. Large-scale agriculture, which had been the foundation of food supply before synthetics, was impossible.

  “But our forebears did not yield!” (cheers)

  “They struggled, but did not surrender!” (cheers)

  “By the beginning of the twenty-second century, atmospheric conditions had become stable and seismic activity was uncommon. Lines on maps had not changed for many years, and the governments of the enduring countries were beginning to expand beyond military functions. The population was growing, and technology was advancing. But then, the Wet Death Virus appeared.” (several moments of silence) “It was lethal within days of contact and spread rapidly around the globe. A vaccine was quickly developed, but in limited supply. Panic erupted; new battles ensued. By the time the virus had been eradicated, the world population had fallen to just 130 million. Humans had never been closer to extinction.

  “That is when my story began. When the approaching twilight of Earthlings generated the prison of my secret existence, and the mercy of humanity ensured the salvation of us all.” (applause)

  Chapter 1

  The Braxton Helijet Amphibious Transport (HAT) is shaped like a loaf of bread. The rounded rectangular hull is forty-five feet long, fifteen feet wide, and twelve feet tall. The landing gear consists of two puncture-resistant twenty-five-foot flotation pontoons positioned directly under the side walls. There are six jet props, three on each side of the hull, positioned near the top. Each is individually adjustable, and when all six are functioning normally, the aircraft is capable of high-speed, high-altitude travel. It can also fly sideways and backwards, and it can hover, with maneuverability similar to that of a bumblebee. This, along with its decidedly bulky and anti-aerodynamic design, earned it the nickname “the Bee.” It is also resilient: even if there is only one fully functional prop on each side, stable, low-level, low-speed flight is still possible.

  “The Bee” was the first major project for the newly formed Braxton Weapons Division. It was generally acknowledged to be a vast improvement over its predecessor, the UGD Corp’s Multi-Utility Quadcopter (MUQ), largely due to the new bladeless jet props. The revolutionary props used new fuel cell technology and contained no moving parts, which made them nearly silent.

  The first test of the HAT was by the United North America (UNA) Navy in the mid-2080s, and the first HAT used in active duty was in the late 2090s, during the early part of the Mexican War. An enormous number of the crafts were subsequently built, and the HAT saw heavy use throughout the war. It was instrumental in most of the major victories, functioning most often as a rapid strike team delivery and recovery unit, but it was able to perform other functions as well, such as reconnaissance or night fighting, and could even be fitted with laser-guided armaments if necessary.

  It was designed to carry a team of ten. This included the pilot and copilot, the gunner in the nose turret, which is positioned directly below the cockpit, the gunner in the tail turret at the back of the hull, just above the cargo ramp, a paratrooper sniper with K9 partner, and a strike team of four who could be secured in the passenger area, which consisted of bench seating three steps below and behind the cockpit. The cargo bay, which was the remainder of the aircraft behind the passenger area, was designed to accommodate the Light Infantry Attack Rover, the “dry LIAR”, or the Light Infantry Attack Raft, the “wet LIAR”, depending on the type of mission. The rover or raft could be secured to the floor, walls, and ceiling of the cargo hold using carbon fiber–reinforced, quick-release safety straps. The strike team and LIAR could be released and deposited, or retrieved and secured, practically anywhere, almost noiselessly, and in less than a minute.

  The Bee LT Andrew Jason Matteo was currently piloting was the third of his career. His first one had survived its required twenty missions and had been retired for maintenance and refurbishing. The second had suffered a damaged prop during its fifth mission and had been returned to Saskatoon for repair. This one had left the manufacturer on April 30, 2100, and was transported by train and truck for two weeks before arriving at Bush AFB in the Texas desert, its new brown and tan paint a perfect match for the barren wasteland. After testing and prepping, it waited at the airbase for two more weeks before being called into service. It was then that it was assigned to LT Matteo and Zeta Team Two, an eight-member team consisting of the pilot, copilot, tail gunner, sniper with K9, and three-person strike team.

  Over the next couple of months, the team had completed sixteen missions in the new aircraft. It had performed admirably, suffering only minimal damage.

  That changed on mission seventeen.

  The sniper team and two of the three strike team members were bleeding profusely on the floor where their rover should be. Despite being strapped down, they were sliding back and forth as the aircraft spun and tilted. The cargo ramp had been blown off, exposing the interior to enemy gunfire, which rained in along with smoke and sand. Alarms were sounding, people were yelling, and the world was spinning past LT Matteo—who realized that even though he still had two functioning props, they were both on the same side.

  The impact with the ground occurred on the pilot’s side, the side with no functioning props. The cockpit glass shattered, and an avalanche of sand entered the craft as it scraped across the desert floor. The engine housing screamed in protest as it was torn from the fuselage, and the helijet flipped over due to the continued thrust from the remaining two turbines. When the vehicle finally came to a rest—upside down—the hull was ripped and bent, but luckily it was largely intact, and the rear of the HAT, where the cargo door was missing, was facing away from the enemy.

  LT Matte
o did not lose consciousness, but he couldn’t see anything, and he was severely disoriented. As he began to comprehend what had happened, he realized he was injured and upside down. He could taste blood, and more blood clouded his visor. He tried wiping it off, but he only smeared it and made his vision worse.

  He managed to lift the visor. The emergency lights in the aircraft had activated and were emitting an eerie glow. Matteo saw the broken windshield, approaching headlights, muzzle flashes, and the clear, starry night.

  Suddenly his hearing came alive—static, followed by a calm, monotone voice through his headphones.

  “Do you copy, Zeta Two?” A long pause as LT Matteo struggled to comprehend. “Zeta Two, do you copy?”

  Matteo slowly activated his microphone. “Zeta Two…”

  The voice responded with excitement. “Matteo! What happened? We lost you for a sec!”

  Matteo was coming back now. He knew where he was and he knew what had happened. He knew he had failed.

  “Down… need pickup…”

  “Roger that, Matteo. Gamma One notified and heading toward your location. Hang tight, buddy!”

  Silence again filled Matteo’s ears. He looked over at his copilot. His friend, LT JG Jesse Li, was dead. Most of his head was gone. Blood was pooling below him on the ceiling.

  Matteo released his safety harness and toppled to the ceiling as well. He staggered to his feet, now covered in his friend’s blood as well as his own, and removed his helmet. He was immediately pummeled by the sounds of enemy gunfire pounding the skin of the aircraft. His reflexes kicked in, and he ducked as he made his way toward the back of the craft to check on his team.

  He found PO Shepard Rogers right away. The LIAR gunner was still strapped into the bench seat, his body hanging upside down, the seat belt refusing to release him. He was riddled with bullet holes. His blank eyes stared at nothing.

  Matteo maneuvered some wreckage so he could climb up and feel for the pulse he knew wasn’t there. He removed a glove and placed his bare fingers on the motionless man’s neck. When his slim hope was extinguished, he climbed down and moved on.

  PO Ray Tanner, the artillery specialist for the LIAR, was mostly buried in sand and tangled in the straps he had used to secure himself during their abrupt takeoff. He was lying face down, and when Matteo tried to roll him over, only his torso moved. He had been torn in two by the straps during the crash.

  A look of terror was frozen in place on the young man’s face. A cigar still dangled from his mouth. Tanner was the newest member of their team. A replacement for an injured teammate. This was his fourth mission with Zeta Team Two. He was only twenty years old.

  Matteo looked at the destruction around him, and his eyes began to well with tears. His team was dead. His Bee destroyed. He was the ranking officer and team leader. He had made the decision.

  The wrong decision.

  “I did this,” he whispered.

  Bullets were still rattling outside, and Matteo heard the engines of approaching trucks, but he couldn’t move. He fell to his knees and wept. The tears streamed down his face, leaving clean trails through the blood and sand. The defeat was total. The blame was his.

  At first, he didn’t hear the faint voice. “Ssskipper… Ssskipper…”

  He thought he was imagining the sound, but eventually he looked up. Hanging halfway out of the open cargo bay, clutching a cargo strap with one hand and the harness of his motionless dog with the other, was the team sniper, CPO Tucker “Tuck” Zann.

  “Hold on, Skipper,” Tuck whispered. “I’m coming to help you.” But he couldn’t. He tried to squirm up fully into the helijet, but he could barely move.

  Matteo wiped his eyes and stood. He made his way over to the wounded man, placed his hands under Tuck’s arms, and pulled the injured sniper and his lifeless animal into the cargo bay.

  Tuck lay flat on his back, exhausted and unable to move. Matteo collapsed next to him.

  “Thanks, Skipper,” Tuck managed. Then, after a moment, “What happened?”

  “Not sure, Tuck. We lost four props. I didn’t get a warning on the comm.”

  “Must’ve been close.”

  “Yep.”

  “Was Bash still in the turret?”

  Matteo was silent. The tail gunner turret was below them, smashed into the desert.

  Tuck understood. They sat in silence for a few moments, thinking of their friend.

  The gunfire stopped. The trucks had pulled up nearby, and men’s voices were coming closer. Both Matteo and Tuck were trained in Spanish, but the voices were still too far away for them to make out all the words.

  “Did they just say ‘make sure’?” Tuck asked.

  “Assy goo rassy?” mimicked Matteo.

  The pile of debris next to them began to move. They both stared in disbelief as the LIAR driver, PO Melissa Greenfeather, sat up. She had been anchored with the cargo straps, like Tuck and Ray, and had been completely buried during the crash.

  “Jesus, AJ, what the hell kind of landing was that?” she asked. She tried to clean herself off, then stopped and winced in pain. “Shit, I think my arm is broke!”

  “Mel!” Matteo cried. Another survivor.

  Their reunion was cut short by the two Mexican soldiers who appeared in the gaping doorway. Their dark complexions and dark uniforms made them almost invisible in the night, but the reflection of the emergency lighting off of the barrels of their rifles announced their presence. The two men stepped forward and started yelling in Spanish. One grabbed Matteo and the other grabbed Melissa, and they pulled them from the wreckage.

  As Matteo was dragged through the sand toward waiting headlights and excited voices, he felt tape being forcefully applied to his mouth. He heard Mel scream and was able to turn and see her fighting her captors. Several men were around her, fondling her and slapping her as they pulled her toward the waiting vehicles.

  Then an order was given from behind the lights. Matteo didn’t understand it, but it was loud and urgent. The soldiers instantly became serious. One of them stepped up and smashed Mel in the face with the butt of his rifle. She went limp.

  Matteo and Mel were thrown into the back of a pickup. Without waiting for Tuck, it sped off into the night. Matteo lay on his back, looking up at the stars as they rushed across the desert.

  An explosion sounded behind them, and he lifted his head to look. There was no tailgate, and he could see a battle raging back at the ravaged HAT. Gamma One had arrived.

  Matteo watched the scene shrink as they accelerated away. The remaining Mexican trucks were destroyed as Gamma One landed next to Zeta Two. Then it was too far away, and the wind and stars became his entire world. He tried to see Mel, but it was too dark. He realized what sad irony it would be if Tuck had survived, but he hoped that he had.

  Matteo knew his life was over, and he was glad. He deserved to die. Nothing they could do to him would be sufficient. No torture could be punishment enough. He wanted to suffer. He knew that his misery was warranted. His misery, and then his death.

  But Mel didn’t deserve this. She should live. She must live, and he was obligated to save her. She was the sole purpose of his existence now. He would do everything humanly possible to set her free. She was here because of him, and he would happily sacrifice himself if it would give her a chance to survive. He was injured and weak, but his will grew with each passing minute. A chance for redemption! To do one good thing—to make amends for the tragedy he had created. He wanted to help her more than he had ever wanted anything. He needed it.

  At last the truck stopped, and soldiers pulled them both from the truck. They were hauled down many steps into a bunker. Matteo tried to fight, but chains from the wall were tightened around his neck and limbs. Mel was thrown to the floor. Her face was bloody, her eyes blackened and swollen.

  She opened them a slit and looked up at Matteo.

  “Andy,” she said.

  A soldier stepped forward and kicked her in the stomach. She moaned and c
urled up.

  The soldier laughed. He turned to Matteo. “Gusta ver, gringo?”

  Matteo just stared. He was confused; Mel had always called him “AJ,” never “Andy.” He didn’t even think she knew his real first name.

  The man turned to a group of soldiers who had gathered in the doorway. He nodded to them, and they approached Mel with smiles. They began to rip her clothes off. Every time she protested, she was kicked or punched.

  Matteo struggled against his bonds, but he couldn’t move. He tried to scream, but the tape was still in place. The soldiers laughed, and soon Mel was lying naked on the floor. Her body was bruised and bloody, but still feminine, which was all the soldiers cared about.

  Matteo could only stand by helplessly as the raping began. He squeezed his eyes shut, wished for them to fall from his skull, but he could still hear the assault. He fought the restraints. He silently screamed through the tape. He kicked his feet. But it was hopeless. Hopeless for her, he knew. He prayed it was hopeless for him as well.

  He tried to force himself to die. He held his breath. He tried to knock himself unconscious by hitting his head against the wall. Nothing worked. The merciless sounds continued.

  When at last there was a pause, he opened his eyes. She was still on the floor. Her naked body had new wounds, and she was covered in blood, dirt, sand, and semen. Sadly, she had remained conscious.

  She turned her now-misshapen face toward him. “Andy, are you there?” she asked through broken teeth. Blood drained from her mouth.

  Matteo knew he had to answer her. He knew it was his last chance. His final opportunity to try to make up for the disaster he’d created. He had to let her know that she was not alone. He had to let her know that he was sorry. Sorry for his defiance, sorry for his arrogance, sorry for his very life.

  His tongue and lips worked feverishly at the tape. He felt a slight give at the corner, and he focused his attention there.