by Lazlo Ferran
The SA grunt toppled to the ground and sparks flew from another head poking above the generator before that grunt too slumped over. Ishmael looked in the direction, from which the fire had come and saw a human head pop up from a ledge, twenty feet up.
“Hey!” the head yelled. “We have been waiting to take those two snipers out. You acted as a bait, you idiot! Thanks!”
Jonr got to his feet, wiped himself down and broke into a deep, rumbling laugh. “Ha Jonr, your leader at your service Rebel!”
“Oh shit!”
The men on the ledge climbed down and walked towards Ishmael and Jonr.
“Sorry sir! I didn’t know it was you!” the man explained.
“No problem! You just saved my life! Where is the ’45?”
“Sir!” the Rebel said, saluting. “Squad 82 reporting. Our commander is dead. I am Telmur. The Type 45 turned down the spoke. They are moving towards the centre of the wheel. What are your orders?”
Jonr slapped the man’s shoulders. “At least your morale hasn’t waned Telmur. I remember you from one of the briefings. East, you say. That is strange. If they had continued south, they could have driven us back into the cavern. Or at least that is what I thought they intended! Hm. This could be a blunder on their part. Well Ish, this means our task is pointless, for now. Hm … . No point heading south either. But I am wondering why they went to the hub. There must be something worth protecting there. Mind you, if they had both Type 45s there, they could use them both more efficiently; defend the whole system.”
“They must have taken there for a reason other than the tactical,” Ishmael suggested. “As you said, the hub is as strong position but only in defence. It could become a trap!”
“Unless whoever is calling the shots is either an idiot or scared of something … . Hm … I think we should go there. How many men do you have Telmur?”
“The remnants of six squads; twelve men sir.”
“Okay. Put somebody in charge of four and leave them here. The youngest will have to be a runner. I want to know about anything that moves though here. The rest, come with me.”
***
At the second intersection, Kris found that the Rebel army had its back against the wall. He finally ordered them into the sewer system, and from there, they spread out towards the great sewer tunnels under the centre of Supercity.
In the President’s office, panic began to set in. Frank had been leading all operations while the president toured Supercity, ostensibly to glad-hand Citizens in the run-up to another election. But in reality he felt terrified. Armande One, as had most politicians by the time they reached a senior rank, had arranged for his telepath circuits to be removed; excess traffic overwhelmed their senses but, more importantly, the security risks were too great. It also looked cool to be holding a com disk in one’s hand when visiting constituents; the common touch. Frank had to call him to tell him that one of the two Type 45s sent into the maintenance system had been ‘slightly damaged.’
“Are you kidding me? That thing is supposed to be invisible! The Army is supposed to be invincible. I am coming back to HQ. Prepare all our defensive systems and deploy the third Type 45 to defend our offices!”
“But sir! That will create confusion and … the wrong impression!”
“Put out a rumour that there is Rebellion! Understand? That will work in our favour! Is Infinity nearly ready?”
“Yes sir!”
“Good. You know what to do.”
***
Jonr and his men found themselves approaching the hub after four hours of fast marching. They were all weary so Jonr pulled them over for a rest.
“Do we go back to the main spoke tunnel?” Telmur half-suggested. “This tunnel twists and turns like crazy! We must have walked twice the distance.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Jonr replied. “We haven’t heard much from the SA. I think they are concentrating all their forces in one place. Perhaps they don’t want us to know they’re here!”
Jonr led them back to the main spoke tunnel and the squad leapfrogged towards the hub of the great wheel. The point man suddenly stopped and held up his hand. The whole squad stopped and shifted to some cover while the man explained:
“Ahead. I can see them. They are arranged in ranks. Somebody needs to take a better look.”
“Up there!” Ishmael suggested, pointing to a high pipe-ledge.
“Let’s go!” Jonr agreed. Both men doubled back until they could find a way up to the ledge. Ishmael’s superior vision picked out the details of the SA deployment:
“Ranks, maybe 100 deep, going back to an inner circle. You are probably right. Only the northern Type 45 is there now but I can see they have made provision for a second; the one from the west. They are gathered around three central towers of pipes and crawl ways. There is a clear space of perhaps two hundred metres around the tower. Wait. I can see at least two of the Generals walking into the space. They are looking up at something; something in the pipe-tower.”
“Is there a way we could reach it; this tower?”
“No. I cannot see a possible route. But if we could get to the tower, we might be able to climb it. There is plenty of cover in that complexity of pipes.”
“You are beginning to sound like a sixth grade poet!”
“Oh, thank you Jonr. I have what might be called an idea.”
“Well, go on, while the going’s good … .”
“When I downloaded the schematics for the maintenance system, I also took the liberty of downloading the schedules of vehicles in the system. Perhaps this could be of help? They still have to maintain the City.”
“Okay Ish. Let me do the creative thinking! Let me know what you know. Do any vehicles pass through here periodically?”
“Searching … . Yes! One of those silver cars normally passes through here at 11 am, every day. It stops and a Bot checks the pipe tower for any signs of damage. But I am guessing it won’t run today.”
“No, but they might not know that!” Jonr pointed to the glut of SA grunts in the hub. “Let’s go down.”
Jonr explained his plan to Telmur:
“We need a diversion and a maintenance car. I want you to send a runner down the west tunnel to find any squads able to make a token attack on this lot here. Send two other men to find a car we abandoned in the expressway yesterday. If it still runs, bring it back to about half mile from here and report back. Oh, and get me two silver suits if you can. Got it?”
“And put two dead Rebels in the car,” Ishmael suggested.
Jonr stared at Ishmael, who added:
“I will explain later.”
“Do it!” Jonr ordered.
“Dead bodies? Alright sir. On my way!”
***
Jonr and Ishmael huddled together in an alcove to plan their next move.
“We’ll go in; you will drive and I will be under the car. When the diversion starts, you and I will climb up that tower. But what the hell is up there that’s so important? That’s what I want to know. Tell me again about what the Bots have to check on the tower?”
“It says the Bot checks the ladder for any sign of damage. That’s all it says!”
“The ladder? You didn’t say that before! Chrissakes Ish. You are getting too human. That sort of details is crucial! Are you sure it says ‘ladder?’”
“Yes. Sorry. I was paraphrasing to save time.”
Jonr stared at Ishmael for a moment before sitting down again and exhaling:
“Okay, so it’s something about the ladder. That means somebody or something must have to go up or down it. Maybe it leads somewhere important. We have to go up that ladder and see where it goes Ish.”
“Yes Jonr. I will go with you.”
“Sorry, I didn’t even ask you; I am just so determined that my people will get … freedom, for the first time. The bodies?”
“The SA will detect a human by your telepathic noise and your bio signals. The bodies will cover this.”
“E
ven dead ones?”
“Yes. The body is not fully dead in clo-… humans for some time. There is always some traffic.”
“Hm. You were going to tell me something earlier … to change my mind.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something about the C-class.”
“No, tell me. We have nothing to do but wait now.”
“Well, it’s something we never talk about. It’s something very personal; like the sex that clones avoid talking about … .”
“Go on … .”
“Well, we have… oh I am embarrassed to say it … we have, inside us, what we call am M-tag; a Maker’s Tag. It’s … very precious and personal to us. There are only 200,000 and will never be another and they are passed on from one Citizen to another. So my parents’ tags are out there somewhere, in other Citizens.”
“I have heard about these tags; very valuable, aren’t they?”
“Yes. They are made from 5 ounces of pure Platinum 190. Even in the Third Millennium, that isotope was valued at more than a trillion and a half dollars per ounce and there was nowhere near enough left in the Earth’s crust to make another 10 tags … .”
“How much is a trillion and a half dollars? I am not familiar with money!”
“Each tag, even then, would have been worth more than Supercity. Some believe there never could have been enough Platinum 190 in the Earth’s crust to make 200,000 tags; there is none on Marsone, Marstoo or Earthtoo. The Ischians and Timpoids valued Platinum 190 above all other metals in trade so you can imagine how rare it is in this Universe. That is one reason why some speculate that Citizens came from Universe B. The central museum in Supercity holds an M-tag in its archives that dates back to 900 AD; yet more proof, they say, that we created man.”
Ishmael looked sad at the telling of his own story and Jonr pondered it for a moment before replying:
“Where is this M-tag embedded?”
“Near the heart. That is, if we have a heart. I no longer believe it. But that tag will be there.”
“But don’t you see that this would not be a natural act of evolution. It has to prove that something or somebody made Citizens?”
“Yes, I am beginning to see that. But if we win and get through to Supercity, I will take you to the Museum and show you the tag.”
“It’s a deal. Now, let’s some rest. You haven’t slept for days Ish.”
“I don’t think I need it until this is all over.”
Telmur found them asleep an hour later. He let them sleep for another hour while he waited for the approach of the Rebel Army.
“Jonr, wake up!” he whispered. “Time to go.”
“Um. I was dreaming of walking in green fields on Earthtoo with Mira and Chance. Oh well, another day at the office … . What’s the score?”
“The car is parked as you ordered. It’s a little worse for wear. It only runs up to about five mph, there are a few holes but we patched it as best we could. We couldn’t contact the main Rebel force but we found about ten squads of men; all told, eighty men. They will attack in three waves, in one hour and five minutes.”
“The suits?”
“The best we could do was these; found them in the wreck of another car.”
Telmur held up two suits, both ripped by laser fire.
“They’ll have to do. We’ll keep the ripped sides away from view. Let’s go Ish. Good luck Telmur. See you in Supercity. Oh, and try to cover us if we reach the ladder!”
“Yessir!”
Ishmael and Jonr took a steady stroll to find the car, parked down the tracks some way. The holes had been patched with biomet and sprayed silver.
“Best get into the suits now,” Jonr suggested. When they had dressed, he laughed at Ishmael’s appearance:
“All you need is a flashing light on your head and you could be a Janitor Bot!”
“Janitor Bots don’t have flashing red lights; I know one!”
“Sorry. You drive. Let’s go.”
Jonr wedged himself onto a rack, underneath the car and close to the door.
Ishmael put the car into ‘Forward’ and gritted his teeth while the screeching sound of abrading biomet surfaces increased. It stopped, once the car reached its maximum speed of 5 mph and whispered along the rails, towards the hub. Ishmael stopped the car until two minutes before the Rebel attack. They continued on and had almost reached the hub when Ishmael shouted to Jonr:
“Have you ever wondered why Citizens put Conservation first Jonr? It’s not as if they keep to it very strictly … .”
“Not now Ish. I am trying to cut my telepath transmissions completely. Don’t make me think!”
Two SA grunts stopped the car and a Bot with a blue flash, a colonel, strode up to the car’s door, motioning for Ishmael to get out. He opened the battered door and climbed down to face the colonel, who began:
“Identify yourself. Where have you come from?”
“Maintenance Bot 3245.” Ishmael had read the number on the breast of the maintenance suit. “I was despatched from North ramp, sector 2, to carry out routine, daily maintenance checks on the Central Flue Cluster assembly. There!” Ishmael pointed but the colonel looked past him and replied:
“You have a clone on board.”
“I have several bodies. They are terminated. We were involved in an attack but Supercity Army soldiers defended us.”
“Search the car,” the colonel ordered two grunts.
“There are two dead bodies sir,” one of the Bots answered in a mechanical voice.
“How long ago were you attacked?” the colonel asked Ishmael.
“Four minutes and thirty-two seconds ago!” Ishmael lied.
“It is useful information. I didn’t know the Rebels still had forces in the area. But there should not be any Supercity Army force in that area. What squad did the soldiers come fro-… ?”
An incoming telepath message interrupted the colonel and he swung away, just as the sound of laser fire erupted from the west spoke tunnel. His grunts followed him, leaving an opening in the defensive circle of soldiers.
Ishmael sidled towards the door and climbed on board the silver car. He set it in forward motion and tried to stare ahead while hundreds of soldier bots watched his progress. But by the time he parked the car at the base of the flue assembly, the SA fully had engaged with the attacking Rebels and half the force had been sent to reinforce their frontline.
“I thought we would never get through!” Jonr whispered, climbing out behind the car. Let’s go. Using the car to cover their movements, they found a gate in a locked metal cage at the bottom of the tower. Ishmael forced the lock. They reached a set of biomet steps and began to climb.
The steps turned round a central cluster of pipes until it had reached half way to the roof of the vast cavern. From there, only three pipes continued up but were joined by several pipes that came in, at an oblique angle, from the roof, some way out from the cluster. Here, the steps stopped but a ladder led at crazy angles towards where one of those incoming pipes passed through the rock roof. Sometimes the ladder turned on its side as it went up and Jonr felt a less fit man would have fallen off.
By now, the battle raged below them, flashes of laser light and the first explosions from the two Type 45’s making the cavern rock glow like crystal. At last, Ishmael reached the opening and scrambled through it. Jonr climbed through after him and found themselves standing on a crudely constructed platform at the base of another ladder; one which ascended vertically.
“After you Ishmael,” Jonr suggested.
“But this could take me back into Supercity. I don’t know … .”
“I’ll go first then. No time to wait … .”
Jonr flexed his arms to return blood to their screaming muscles and started up the ladder.
After only about thirty feet, the ladder ended in a trap door. Ishmael swung it up to open it and stepped into a small room, lined with computer monitors. An astonished operator Citizen stood up and stared at Jonr. Jonr swung his laser f
rom his shoulder and took out the operator with one shot. A second later, a door to the room swung open and an even more astonished Armande One, followed by a man in a black suit, entered the room.
***
Armande, dressed in the traditional grey suit of the President, froze in his tracks. Nobody moved. Both parties weighed each other up. Finally, Armande smiled disarmingly and said:
“You’re Jonr, the Rebel leader.”
“How do you know?” Jonr replied “And who are you?”
“This is the President,” Ishmael felt compelled to explain.
“Ah, Armande One,” Jonr exclaimed “And where are you going with that briefcase Armande?”
“Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. I just need to climb down that ladder, there, for an … important engagement. Frank needs to come with me. This case contains a lot of valuable information about Supercity; everything a President needs to run it. We could do a swap?”
“Swap?”
“You let me pass and you can have the case.”
“I see. So you are running away. And we haven’t even entered Supercity yet.”
Armande seemed to consider something for a few moments while Frank started to scratch his chest. Armande’s henchman seemed completely bored with the situation and then sat on the edge of a desk.
“Any second now, soldiers are going to come pouring through that door,” Armande said, pointing behind him. “You will die instantly. Let me show you what I have here. By the way, see this button; I press it and the case blows up. We all go with it but no more vital information on Supercity and there are no copies.” He placed the case on a desk and put his thumbs to sensor pads to unlock it. Opening the case, he swung it towards Jonr.
Ishmael saw the glint of something metallic come out of Frank’s jacket and then Jonr screamed in pain. Armande leaped for the ladder, followed by Frank. Ishmael had instantly brought his laser to bear on the President but some last piece of respect, programmed into him, stopped him from pulling the trigger. He had no such qualms with Frank and made a mess of the black suit in a fraction of a second. Frank’s body slid into the wall on the other side of the ladder hatch, just as Armande’s head disappeared from view.