by Wesley Chu
The old man’s skin was rigid, and he had a look of panic frozen on his face. It was then James realized that he had fallen unconscious and that the atmos was off. Quickly, he willed it back on and enveloped both of them, raising the temperatures and pumping air into their protective bubble.
“For space’s sake, James, answer me, damn it!”
“I’m here, Grace,” he thought back.
“You goddamned flat-lined when you jumped back,” she said.
“How long was I out?”
“Just a few seconds. Hang on. We’re picking you up.”
James checked Titus’s pulse; at least the old man was still breathing, though his pulse was weak. He was lucky. The Grand Juror probably would not have survived much longer. James took a deep breath and promptly threw up. A splitting pain erupted in his head, pounding him like a hammer on a melon, threatening to splatter the contents of his brain next to the contents of his stomach. He hunched over and watched as the bile floated away and congealed on the wall of the perfect sphere surrounding him and Elise’s newest recruit.
He could really use a drink. He remembered he had snuck a small flask of whiskey from the Drink Anomaly on board while packing the ship. It wasn’t much, but it was something, especially since that last jump seemed to have twisted his insides something fierce.
In the distance, he saw a small two-color spark approach. Then he looked down at his wet shirt and the contents of his lunch floating inside his atmos shield. How embarrassing. At least the wait for his ride wouldn’t be too long. He was fortunate that Grace had taken precautions and had outfitted him with an emergency life support band on the chance that this might occurr, which of course it did. Otherwise, both he and Titus would be dead right now. She would never have let him live it down.
The pink was coming back to Titus’s old crackly face, and he seemed to be breathing normally again. He was curled up in a fetal position, as if encapsulated in a womb and rotating like a planet without a care in the world. He was even starting to snore in the otherwise dead of space. It was almost cute.
The past hour had been traumatic for the old man, and he had complained and corrected James every step of the way until nap time. James already knew he was going to be a handful. That was the problem with gathering some of the greatest minds in one place. You also ended up with the biggest egos, and every one of them was used to being in charge. Well, Titus was Elise and Grace’s headache now. They wanted a master inventor and fabricator, they got one. As long as he was a good enough doctor for Sasha, James couldn’t care less about the rest.
“How’s the old geezer doing?” Grace asked as the bulky transport came to a stop alongside him.
“Still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, maneuvering to the rear hatch and floating inside.
“Take him to the bunk,” Grace told Levin. Then she walked up to James and checked his vitals. “That’s it, James. Never again. Next time you jump, you will die,” she snapped. “You were already playing against the house on this one. You will not make it back, and then you’ll be useless to all of us. Promise me on Elise’s and Sasha’s life.”
He nodded. “This is it.”
“Get some rest. I want to observe your life signs for a few hours.”
“I need to pilot the ship back to Earth.”
“That wasn’t a request. Levin can take care of that.”
James nodded and stumbled into the crew quarters. He was met by Smitt’s ghost, who whistled as he looked at the unconscious Titus. “What the heck, right? Once you break the one Time Law no one dares breaks, who cares if you break it a few more times, right?”
James tried to ignore him. At least he was only being haunted by someone who was actually dead now, unlike Sasha and Grace.
“Come on, my friend.” Smitt grinned. “The past is already dead. A person cannot simply un-die.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he grumbled.
“You’d think so,” Smitt replied.
“Your brain patterns are spiking, James. I told you to get some rest,” Grace spoke inside his head through his comm band. “Are you talking to your phantoms again?”
“Just one.” James hadn’t told her about Smitt yet. He wasn’t sure he should. This one felt different. He went into the back room and lay down on one of the lower bunks. His body hurt all over. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he remembered the flask of whiskey hidden in the storage locker. It called to him. For a second, passing out felt like the better plan. Instead, James dragged his exhausted body out of bed and snuck next door.
TWENTY-TWO
ADMINISTRATIVE TASKS
The Co-op completed the takeover of another building, a large 133-story high-rise with twenty-three bridges connecting to adjacent buildings along 125th Street. The building served as a central hub to many of the other blocks in the Harlem region of the island. By the hounds’ estimations, there were nearly four thousand inhabitants in just that building alone. The density of savages was increasing, but Kuo’s forces had become more efficient, more adept at capturing and subjugating. Already, they had conquered a quarter of the island, encountering hardly any resistance as they steadily moved down its length.
Kuo, standing on the 114th floor on the south end of the building, looked down at a large jungle clearing a few blocks to the south. The haze was light this morning, allowing several hundred meters of visibility. The EMP fog had proven more problematic than she had anticipated. With limited numbers and no modern means of communication, her forces initially had problems maintaining their control over many of the blocks they had taken over. Sometimes, as little as two days after her troopers had cleared an entire building, another savage tribe would wander in, forcing her people to reclear it. There was simply too much area, horizontally and vertically, for the resources she had at hand.
Kuo found the solution to this problem in leveraging the thousands of savages they had captured. Uprooted from their homes with no place to stay, these doe-eyed primitives seemed to have lost all hope and direction. She was doing them a service by offering employment as indentured servants. In her eyes, she was elevating these wallowing primitives to civilized standards.
It hadn’t taken much to convert them. Kill a few to instill fear among the rabble. Find someone with a semblance of authority who could keep them in line. Relay your commands and make sure they were followed. If any of the savages acted up, kill a few more. Then you fed them. Within a few days, all of the defeated tribes had fallen in step with the new order.
In the case of the Northwoods, Ewa had had to kill over a dozen of their leaders before she found someone who agreed to follow orders and keep the rest of them in line. In the weeks since, the Co-op had steadily increased its presence, taking over building after building. It had now indentured over a hundred savage tribes. Some were as small as twenty while others numbered nearly a thousand. With these additions, the Co-op was able to stabilize its holdings and make steady gains as Kuo’s forces gobbled up block after block of the Mist Isle.
The original plan was to assign the stronger of the savages to menial labor, use the children as couriers, and to put the weak and old on watch. The last group was strategically placed at every building entrance and intersections dividing the blocks already conquered and the ones the Co-op hadn’t cleared yet. If there was any disturbance, those on watch would tell the children, who would run and report it to a nearby monitor outpost. This setup was primitive, but it should have worked if everyone had done their job.
The first week of managing this system, however, had been a disaster. Her operations suffered from these savages’ poor work ethic. They had no sense of responsibility or employment. Many times, her people caught them shirking their duties, sleeping on the job, or even wandering off from their posts. Usually, Kuo wouldn’t have tolerated such insubordination, but as much as she hated to admit it, she needed them. She needed twice the number she had now to hold the line across the entire island as they con
tinued south. Her reinforcements weren’t enough.
Kuo blamed herself for this oversight. The savages didn’t know better. They had descended from generations of takers and leeches and wanted the welfare—shelter and food—but didn’t want to work for it. All this required the monitors and troopers to vigilantly manage the savages, which defeated the purpose of having indentured servants to begin with.
It took her a few days to come up with a solution. She found it in the past, after studying the economic models of the Neptune Divinities and even further back in a tiny totalitarian regime known as North Korea. It was a sound short-term strategy that would pay dividends.
Kuo walked to an open courtyard where the survivors of three tribes were being corralled and divided into laborers, watchers, and couriers. It was a large group, numbering nearly two thousand. She found Ewa consorting with a group of troopers and pulled her aside. “How many troopers and Valta personnel do we need to administer this many new savages?”
“Nearly seventy percent of our active hours, Senior,” Ewa said. “At least for two days until they get under control and organized, then it’ll require almost fifty percent to keep all the indentured in line and doing their job.”
“This is inefficient and unacceptable. It will completely stall our offensive.”
Ewa nodded. “The blocks we control grow by the day. It is difficult enough maintaining an offensive line with only two thousand combat personnel. We’re acquiring buildings too quickly, and do not have enough ground personnel to cover them. Furthermore, we’ve received scattered reports of activity to the north, so we’re utilizing even more resources patrolling blocks we’ve already conquered.”
Kuo fumed. Maintaining momentum was important. She could see her entire offensive flounder under its own weight, otherwise. “The further south we move, the denser these buildings become. The only way we can sustain this pace is to change requirements. Lower squad readiness strength from eighty percent to fifty. These savages are nothing. Half-strength is all we need. Otherwise, we risk getting bogged down as an occupying force. I want the shocker pods moving at all times.”
“That doesn’t address the problems with the indentured or maintaining the integrity of the watch line,” Ewa said. “Fifty percent are needed just to force the savages to do their job. We don’t have enough resources to do both.”
“Perhaps we are approaching it from the wrong angle, then,” Kuo said. “I have a new idea. This group of freshly acquired savages will be our test case. We put the healthy ones to work performing menial labor and maintaining the watch line. We hold the weak and the elderly in holding pens. If the healthy ones do not properly perform their duties, we punish their loved ones.”
“Hostages, Senior?” said Ewa.
“Motivation,” Kuo replied. “For good service. In return, we clothe, feed, and house their people. This would solve two problems at once, since it requires less personnel to guard the old and weak.” She pointed at the sullen group of prisoners huddled in the middle of the room, broken and bloodied from the day’s fighting. “Here are your new orders, Securitate. Group all the savages by their family units: fathers, mothers, children, and then split them. The able on the left and the weak on the right. Set them to their duties with the understanding that their evaluation is performance-based and that the health of their families rests upon their fulfillment of their responsibilities.”
“Yes, Senior.”
Kuo stepped to the side while Ewa carried out her orders. The room became filled with sobs and cries and screams as the monitors pulled children from parents, wives from husbands. A few of them tried to resist, only to be beaten into submission. This process continued for nearly thirty minutes as the thousands were divided into two groups. It became apparent early on, though, that a third group had to be formed.
A large percentage, nearly half of the savages here, had no significant links to be accountable for. After the recent battles, many of the healthy and able savages had died. Many others had fled, leaving behind those who couldn’t follow. Ewa ended up dividing those without personal connections into this third group, and it was the largest one by far. She approached Kuo when it was done. “What should we do with these, Senior?”
That was something Kuo hadn’t considered. The wastelanders here had already proven themselves unreliable without proper motivation. Giving them positions of responsibility was out of the question. Keeping them out of charity even more so. Kuo walked to the bridge to the adjacent building and looked across at the darkened entrance.
A hundred meters down, where the bridge connected, a wall of bricks and garbage was being piled up, a barricade of sorts. The primitives actually thought it would make a difference. Most of the savage tribes had tried to do something of this nature every time the Co-op invaded a new building. It must be the way they were used to fighting each other. It usually took her forces less than five minutes to punch through, though it was often the most dangerous part of the attack. Nearly half of their casualties so far had come from insertion points. It gave her another idea.
Kuo pointed at the building adjacent to them, the next on their list to attack. “The hounds estimate there are at least the same number of savages in the next building as there were here. When we took this building, they were entrenched, waiting for us. The next building will be even more difficult, and the one after that still more so. Instead of fighting them for every inch, let’s soften them up a bit before we send our own forces in.”
“I don’t understand.”
Kuo pointed at the third group. “We will not waste anything or anyone. Drive all these unattached prisoners into the adjacent buildings and have them spread word of our arrival. Sow terror among those who think they can stand up to us. Who knows, perhaps those savages will just surrender without us even firing a shot. In the worst case, the primitives will have to deal with a refugee crisis, either by killing them or housing them. It will sap their resources and their resolve. In any case, it will be out of our hands.”
Ewa nodded. “I will tell the troopers to drive them out.”
Kuo watched as the orders were relayed across the room. The prisoners looked dazed as they were brought to their feet and corralled toward the bridge.
Kuo rolled her eyes. “Ewa, when I say drive them out, I meant like this.” She activated her exo and created a large white trunk. She trotted to the near end of the group and smashed it into them, sending bodies flying into the other bodies.
The savages in the group milled around at first, confused and unsure if they were supposed to stay still or run. They had been guaranteed safety and food as long as they surrendered. Now, wavering between fighting back and obeying, their natural instincts won out.
Kuo pressed on, pushing them forward with her trunk and attacking anyone who got too close. To her left, Ewa did the same. To her right, the monitors followed her lead, though with decidedly less enthusiasm and effectiveness. In a few seconds, it became a stampede as that third group of savages fled across the bridge, scurrying like rodents away from a flood, out toward the entrance of the next building over.
“Hold,” Kuo said at the base of the bridge. “Don’t let them back.”
Already, chaos was unfolding as the defenders of the barricade in the other building met the fleeing prisoners with weapons drawn. The few who tried to turn back were met with wrist beams and exo trunks. The bridge became a death trap as the panicked savages were unable to move forward or back. Inevitably, most were trampled under the weight of the mob.
“Urge them forward,” Kuo instructed, and watched as the monitors advanced.
The pressure built as the prisoners surged forward, finally overrunning the defensive barricade in the next building. Like a pressure valve bursting open, the fleeing and panicked prisoners spilled over and a full-blown riot broke out.
Satisfied, Kuo signaled for the monitors to stop their advance. “Maintain position here until nightfall.” She signaled to Ewa. “Let them stir up chaos for two
hours. As soon as the tired defenders think they have everything under control, we roll in. This will be our tactic going forward. From this point on, we will use these prisoners as our vanguard.”
As Kuo left the room, her second hurriedly followed and called after her. “Excuse me, Senior?”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to speak out of turn…”
“You are my second and have earned your worth several times over. Out with it.”
Ewa gestured at the crowd huddled in one corner. “You’re asking that we corral them like fodder. These savages might not be earners, but they are still human.”
“And you propose we care for them simply because they are? What value do they provide us, or to humanity as a whole?”
Her second stopped. “I’m just saying there are thousands of these savages here on the island. We can’t just treat them all like expendable animals.”
Kuo scanned the room at the large group of corralled savages. “Do you know,” she said softly, “where I was born, Ewa?”
Ewa frowned. “Your surname says you’re from Europa, doesn’t it?”
“That was changed when I was young. I was actually born on Rhea.”
Kuo’s second looked surprised. “The failed socialist state?”
“My family fled to Europa and bribed the refugee administrators in order to avoid the stigma attached to our colony. But yes, I grew up there right as it was falling apart. I had a front-row seat to one of humanity’s worst social experiments.” She looked at Ewa. “You look surprised.”
“I apologize for asking, Senior.” Her second in command bowed. “You are just one of the last people I would ever consider having a socialist upbringing.”
Kuo looked as if she had just eaten something distasteful. “My father, a noted habitat architect, was recruited by the government to design module additions for Rhea. The colony had attracted many skilled minds as potential colonists with promises of equality and easy living. For a while, it worked. The provisional government provided for all our needs. Eventually. though, there were too many nonproductive people to support, and too few of worth doing work. I still remember the inevitable food riots and module gangs taking over and hoarding oxygen shipments. The colony fell under its own dead weight, and like most, it was the takers who continued to take.”