by Lazlo Ferran
Kris wrapped the cable round his back and abseiled down the expressway wall, with Jonr close behind.
“I’ll go last,” Ishmael told the two wounded men. “I’m not sure it will hold my weight.”
“Here take this!” said one the men, tossing a laser. “Kris has a spare. Turn it to max and lock the safety-catch. It will fuse and blow in thirty seconds … roughly!”
“Thanks.”
As the last man disappeared out of the opening, Ishmael set the laser to explode. A red line appeared around the hatch lock and extended to a red hot slit. Ishmael counted for a few seconds and pressed the safety-catch lock. He ran for the opening and climbed down the cable. Beneath his feet, he could see his waiting friends but the cable jerked so he guessed it would soon break. He quickened his pace and fell the last fifteen feet when the cable snapped. Contracting his legs to form a spring, in a way that must have been programmed into him, he landed heavily and fell over.
“Nothing damaged!” he announced, when the others hauled him to his feet. He followed the others as they broke into a slow jog, heading south. Both Kris and Jonr supported a wounded man each.
“Let me!” Ishmael said to Jonr. He hoisted the most wounded man to his shoulders and found that he could easily carry the man’s weight at a steady jog.
***
Jonr and his surviving squad didn’t have to go far before they met Supercity Army’s rear-guard. Jonr kept the enemy squads at the limit of their visible range. One soldier caught Ishmael’s eye; surrounded by four other grunts wherever he went:
“Look at him Jonr. I think he is some kind of commander, perhaps a general. See how those Bots around him always move to defend him?”
“Yes. You’re right!”
“Wait! Look.” A Bot came running back to the defended Bot from the front ranks. Ishmael zoomed in to the limit of his vision. “That one that just arrived; I think he has a blue flash; a Colonel. He’s spotted us. He is talking with the other one. Look, now he’s running forward and two squads are peeling off into side tunnels.”
“Trouble!”
“Yes, but if one of us can get a good shot at that one; the general … .”
“Better be you. Your vision is best and your hand never shakes!”
“It does actually, recently … .”
“They’re stopping; wonder why. Listen Ish, while we distract them, get up there somewhere. Take a shot. This time, I don’t think we’ll get a chance to regroup. If you survive, get back to the first intersection and we’ll meet you there!” Jonr held out his hand; the human gesture of friendship that even Citizens knew. Ishmael took his hand and shook it. Kris and the others shook his hand too and then he ran into a side tunnel.
Ishmael quickly found a smaller intersection of tunnels but stopped in his tracks; a deafening ‘boom’ shook the foundations of the city and an instant later, the tunnel flashed white around him, followed by red, yellow and purple. Two SA grunts with yellow flashes turned a corner in front of him and he took both the unprepared soldiers with a short burst each. A shockwave surged past Ishmael, rocking him on his feet.
The first shot of that Type 45. More Rebels must have arrived. I have to move faster.
He turned into the second tunnel and ran until he estimated he had gone ahead of the SA general. Another ‘boom’ nearly breaking his grip on a ladder he had begun to climb.
Three levels up, not far under the roof of the expressway, he crawled forward to a good sniper position. His encounter with the two grunts had alerted the enemy and he found hundreds of soldier faces scanning the walls for him. Two pairs spotted him and all eyes turned to pick out the intruder. A fraction of a second later, hundreds of laser barrels pointed at his face.
But Ishmael knew his target before they did and he already had the green flash of a general in his sights. The Bots around their leader closed in. Whether because they did not expect their enemy to have such good long-range vision or because their tactical programming still had some deficiencies, Ishmael still had line-of-sight on the General’s neck for the fraction of a second he needed. He pulled the trigger and ducked. A solid sheet of laser fire scorched the air where his head had been and burned a hole over a meter wide in the wall behind him. Burned-through pipes gushed liquids, some of which ignited instantly, further adding to the conflagration around him. Ishmael dived though a wall of fire and ran back to the ladder.
At the bottom, he turned right and ran until he thought he had gone ahead of the artillery piece. He stopped at an intersection and breathed deeply. He flexed his new mech leg.
Not too bad after all. Shame I won’t have long to get used to it!
He turned right and ran out into the expressway, into a full-scale war.
***
In front and to his left, Ishmael saw Rebels, as far as the tunnel stretched south. To his right, the laser canon stood still, flanked by line upon line of SA grunts. Ishmael dived to the left, narrowly avoiding a hail of SA laser fire, some from the Rebels who didn’t recognise him. He stumbled through the ranks of the Rebels, calling out:
“Who is in charge?”
A dark-haired woman suddenly emerged in front of him and grabbed his arm:
“Ishmael. Is Jonr okay?”
“Mira! You’re safe. I am glad. Jonr still lived when I last saw him, a few minutes ago. What is going on?”
“The laser wagon seems to be broken. They have some grunts trying to fix it. We are trying to organise an assault on the ‘45’ but we are being cut down like corn.”
Ishmael watched as whole ranks of Rebels were cut down in front of him. A blinding flash of light burst from the red eye of the great laser cannon and took out a narrow line of men, fifty ranks deep. Rebels flowed forward, into the gap, yelling cries of “Death to Supercity!”
“This is no good,” Ishmael told Mira. “If the gun cannot move, you should fall back, out of range.”
“But it’s such an opportunity! We have to take it now!”
“With what?”
“Watch. We are going to try something.”
Mira vanished into the ranks and Ishmael tried to pick off a few SA grunts while he waited.
He had no idea what Mira had planned but when he heard her voice, above all others, ordering, “Part ranks!” and he saw three men run into the slot with grenades, he guessed her intention.
The men ran out from the first rank, into a field of dead bodies; fallen corn stalks. The blood lay thick and body parts tripped them as they tried to cross the gap and get close enough to lob the grenades.
Ishmael found himself whispering “Oh no … .” as the first man fell, followed by the second, before either had launched their grenades. The third man lived long enough to throw his but it fell ten metres short of the Type 45 waggon. A fourth man came and a fifth, both falling before throwing their grenades. The sixth Rebel lobbed his and it flew in its spellbinding arc towards the laser barrel, hypnotising all that saw it. It detonated only a few metres from the barrel but when the white flash and eruption of debris cleared, the barrel appeared unharmed. Only some of the flat waggon’s decking and a few Bots had been destroyed.
The last man had some respite from laser fire while the SA watched the horrific flight of the previous grenade. He reached further than any before his legs were cut from under him and his left arm severed. He retained consciousness just long enough to lob his grenade but missed his target. The grenade exploded near the front right axle of the waggon. All eyes turned to watch as the waggon buckled and the Type 45 slid towards the ground. There it stopped, at a crazy angle but not disabled.
“We are out of grenades!” Mira yelled, running up to Ishmael.
From the opposite side of the expressway, a Rebel cheer went up, but, Ishmael thought, not for the damage they had inflicted on the waggon. A minute later, Jonr and Kris reached Mira and Ishmael. Jonr limped up to Mira, embraced her and yelled:
“Retreat! They cannot move for now.”
Rebels around them echoed the
cry of, “Retreat!” and ranks of men began to back away from the SA.
***
Together, the northern contingent of the Rebel army began steadily moving south in retreat. After only a few minutes, they passed the expressway, which led to the hub of Supercity’s maintenance system. Jonr cast a wistful eye at it and wondered out loud:
“I wonder if we should leave some men here.”
Continuing south, they met isolated squads of Rebels, coming the other way, one of them containing Chance. She ran up to her parents and clutched them:
“I have news! I wanted to come to the front but I ran into this squad and this stupid commander has hung on to me ever since!”
“Remind me to thank him!” her father replied. “What news?”
“Rebels now hold the south and east ramp. Only the west and north are not ours. Some squads are close to the crossroads at the centre of it all. I have been there! Dad. I climbed a wall and saw the SA there. They are very strong!”
“But no Type 45s?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You did well. Did you find out where that manhole cover led?”
“Yes!”
Ishmael had forgotten the covers and felt impressed with Chance’s work.
“Great! Well?” Jonr asked.
“There are loads of them; they go straight down, a long way. Many small tunnels lead off them, some towards Scaffold City. I think it’s an old sewerage system.”
“Hm. Sound right to you Ish?”
“I don’t know. I will ask Number Fourteen.” But however hard he tried, Ishmael could not contact Number Fourteen anymore.
They reached the second intersection, where they had first emerged into the maintenance system. Alarms could still be faintly heard blaring in the distance. A commander ran up to Jonr and told him:
“All of our army is in the system now sir!”
“Good.” Jonr turned to his army and announced, “We camp here for tonight! I want defensive walls, sentries, lookouts and snipers; anything to protect our base. I want the routes to the east and west ramps strengthened and runners to be stationed north and west of here. Tomorrow, we will take the whole system and Supercity!” A cheer went up from his men. He turned to Kris and said:
“I want you to get some men down those shafts; see if they go under Scaffold City and if there is a way out, either into this main system of Scaffold City. We may need an escape route.”
Jonr turned back to Ishmael, Chance and Mira and said:
“Come with me! Mara, do you have lipstick?”
“Of course! Doesn’t every woman when you don’t have hologloss lips?”
He led them back to the first intersection, at the end of the tunnel that led to the fan duct. Three alarms still blared and red light flashed on and off in the tunnel. Jonr raised his laser and shot out the alarms. The last one made a wheezing sound before finally falling silent.
“I have been dying to do that!” Jonr declared. “Lipstick!”
Mira handed him the small tube. He strode to one of the signs which read, ‘Warning. Danger of clone attacks!’ and crossed out the words. Underneath, he wrote, “This way to Scaffold City, home of humans.”
“Clones, my ass!” he added. “Let’s go.”
“We need to look at that leg,” Mira said, kissing Jonr.
***
A tight bandage on Jonr’s leg had become sodden with blood. Mira gently unwound it and looked at the wound. “Didn’t hit bone. You’ll live but it needs cauterizing; cut one of the arteries.” She wound a laser up to full charge and aimed it at the severed artery. Jonr gasped as waves of pain crashed over him.
“Feel so tired,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
“It’s good that he sleeps. I am hardly purple myself!”
“Mum! It’s not good to try and sound cool!” Chance said, lying down between her mother and father. “You’re too old!” While Chance clasped her father for comfort, Mira put her arm around both and they fell asleep.
A few Rebels were still eating and talking but many were grabbing some well-earned sleep.
Ishmael stood guard over them, not able to rest. The network traffic in his head hummed like a giant, angry wasp; an insect he had only seen in history recordings. He had been listening to it for some time, trying to pick out anything useful when he found himself becoming sleepy. Suddenly a female voice blared in his head; “Revolution! We’re all going to suffer!” Ishmael jerked awake.
Sounds like a Citizen. But a malfunctioning one!
He homed in on the epicentre of the confusion and heard more voices, all whispering “Clone revolution!” or “Uprising!”
Later, the panic seemed to die down somewhat, only for the words of panic to be replaced by whispers of a, “Secret Weapon.”
Kris and his men returned after four hours. Kris talked with some of the sentries, strode over and woke Jonr:
“The ’45 must be fixed. They are coming south and not more than an hour away. We found out where the tunnels go. Yes, they are old sewers, dating back to when everyone lived in Supercity and the cavern only held animals and crops. Some of the system goes right under the cavern and some of it leads in, towards two great, parallel channels, sloping north to south, under the centre of Supercity. I didn’t hang around but there must be exits into the maintenance system.”
“Great work! So we now have an escape route. And are there exits into the cavern?”
“Ah, that we couldn’t find out. I would need more time.”
“Alright, we have no time. Only use those in an emergency. As much as possible, when the time comes, lead survivors into the system under Supercity. Supercity; got that!”
“Yes, but what are you talking about? We are going in and I am coming with you!”
“Trust me. You are my deputy … .”
Kris shook his head but remained silent.
“Now!” Jonr continued. “While there is time, I have an idea we can try! Did either of you notice those grills in the roof?” Ishmael and Kris shook their heads. “There is one just over there!” He pointed to a dark shape that only Ishmael could see in the very apex of the vaulted ceiling above the expressway. Kris walked in its direction until he could make it out clearly.
“Hadn’t noticed it!” Kris said.
“Well, I noticed one yesterday; they are about every half mile. Ideal for dropping a grenade right on top of that ’45. Ishmael and I are going to take about a dozen grenades and take it out for once and for all. Kris, I am leaving you in charge here. Defend the tunnel as far north as you can but retreat rather than lose more than 10% of your force; we have lost too many already. When it is clear there is no other way, get everyone into the sewer system and go for the centre. Whoever takes the centre needs less forces to defend it but you cannot fail. There will be no retreat so it could become a trap … .”
A teenage runner came in from the south, interrupting Jonr by shouting, “We have lost the western tunnel. The big laser has wiped out our forces! Where is Jonr?”
“I feared it!” Jonr said, standing. “Time to go.”
Ishmael and Jonr equipped themselves with some armour, three lasers each and several bags containing grenades. Saying goodbye to their comrades, they headed north.
***
As they moved along the expressway, Ishmael and Jonr passes squads of bedraggled and wounded Rebels, heading south. Jonr pepped the men up with talk of victory and defiance but Ishmael could now tell the difference between bravado and honesty. He saw a weary look in the leader’s eyes.
Fearing it might take a long time to find the way to one of the grills, Jonr turned into a side tunnel at an early opportunity. It didn’t take Ishmael long to locate a promising tunnel on the top level. They followed it, eventually crawling on hands and knees until they reached one of the grills. Jonr peered down:
“Woo. I always did get a bit of vertigo but that is sickening! Don’t look!”
Ishmael looked straight down.
“I feel not
hing!” he replied.
They took out the grenades and waited.
Below them, squads of weary Rebels streamed south. Few of them spoke and many were wounded. Jonr felt tempted to shout encouragement to them but had to keep quiet. After an hour, the squads thinned out, until there were none. Not long after that, the front line of SA grunts appeared. Ishmael and Jonr remained completely silent.
One hour passed and then two. Jonr fidgeted and eventually could bear it no more:
“Something’s wrong Ish. We haven’t seen any SA for nearly thirty minutes. Do you think the Type 45 is coming?”
“I don’t know. Let’s give it another thirty minutes and then go down.”
“Alright.”
When the time had elapsed and they had rode the elevator back to the ground floor, they found themselves in a silent tunnel.
“You could hear a bat fart!” Jonr joked.
“You think so? Oh, a joke.”
“You don’t have jokes?” Jonr asked, heading north.
“No.”
“Oh.”
They crept from cover to cover, moving steadily north, until they reached the north spoke.
“Careful Jonr,” Ishmael warned, as the leader strode confidently into the vast intersection. Jonr ignored him. A slit of white light suddenly came from behind a generator, sending both diving for their lives. Ishmael had been close to a huge junction box and crawled behind it. He peered round it and saw Jonr lying in the middle of the tunnel, with only two carcasses of dead SA grunts to protect him.
One of the enemy poked his head above the generator and fired a short burst, taking out Jonr’s laser and only just missing the bag of grenades. The leader had two lasers strapped to his back but he wouldn’t be able to reach them before the grunt could shoot him. Knowing this, the grunt strode confidently towards his prey and stood over him.
“I have orders to take any senior Rebels as prisoners. You are one,” the grunt said.
Ishmael didn’t have time to wonder how the grunt knew this but took aim with his laser instead. Another sliver of white light stopped him.