Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  It wasn’t surprising that disillusioned rioters were there. Their lives devoid of opportunity, as they fight for work, better pay and more freedom. Naturally they end up turning inwards, against the controlling state. She mouthed the paramedic’s insult to herself, turning the word over in her head and staring out at a graffiti covered landscape.

  North of the city, Niagara Air Base was her temporary home. Now part of the 27th Infantry Brigade, she had been seconded from the 38th to assist with civil unrest.

  The SUV parked opposite the small accommodation block she shared with other officers from the 27th. Its grey elevation looking polluted against white snow on the ground and its roof.

  Cold crispy air zipped into the SUV when she opened the door. Her breath misting as she thanked the driver. It had stopped snowing and once the SUV had driven away, all was quiet except for the crunch of her footfall through virgin snow.

  After showering, she changed uniform, made coffee and poached egg on toast. Carrying the plate to her two seat sofa and eating while checking the morning news.

  Last night’s events made the headline, Bricks, Bombs and Blood on the Streets. The article described how heroic soldiers fought a pitched battle against insurgents. Rioter’s hell bent on destroying City Hall. In a coordinated attack, a car bomb had detonated next to the Federal Court building killing a number of civilians and soldiers. The commentary confirmed that Muslim extremists had already claimed responsibility. She scanned the remainder of the story. There was no mention of Ghosts.

  Avery snapped the flexi screen onto her arm. The morning debrief would be long and full of awkward and difficult questions. There would be meetings, one to ones, paperwork and further meetings. It was unlikely she would get any sleep before next duty.

  This posting could be the end of her promising career. She was topping out at Major. It was supposed to allow her time to complete a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. ‘Assessed and reviewed, whilst overseeing peace keeping operations’. Instead, the role had become a constant battle to keep order with a growing army of insurgents and now Ghosts. She’d been passed over once already and after last night, her chances at next month’s board were zip.

  One more year to go then she should be out of this unending nightmare of militia control. Even that was beginning to look doubtful. The 38th were stretched to breaking point. Rumors circulated about the withdrawal of overseas troops, to deal with internal unrest. She figured there would be no escape anytime soon.

  #

  With ten minutes to spare, Avery arrived at headquarters. She navigated a route to their unit admin office. The room was warm and bright with neat workstations set out in two rows. It was filled with gentle tapping, clicking and the low hum of conversation - a world apart from riot mobs and Ghost attacks. She nodded, smiled at faces she knew, and picked her way purposefully towards Human Resource Command Officer, Jerry Moore.

  Moore looked up and his face pinched at the sight of her. “Hey Tess. That was some nasty business last night. You okay?”

  “The worst I’ve seen it. We lost some good people.”

  Avery took a seat opposite his and he poured her a coffee. “Listen, I’ve sent you a full list of the dead and injured. Anything else you need, just give me a call.”

  She gave Moore a nod as she gulped down a mouthful of coffee. “I’ll write to their families, don’t send any of the standard condolence letters.”

  “Sure thing,” Moore said, nodding in agreement.

  “Will we be getting replacements?”

  “We’re fighting with every other base for equipment and boots on the ground.”

  “Let’s hope for a miracle then,” Avery said, standing to leave.

  “The chief wants to see you before debrief.”

  “Before,” she said, hovering over the chair. “What’s the story?”

  “I don’t know. For your ears only,” he said, holding out his hands to show they were empty.

  Avery paused before knocking on the Commanding Officer’s door. She was ordered to put the riot down before a sonic weapon arrived. Did they know there was a car bomb? Move the crowd quickly to avoid further casualties.

  Whatever the intel, a routine demonstration babysit had turned into a shit storm. The real question was how much blame the chain of command was going to deflect her way.

  Colonel Philip Totty sat behind his desk, rising to meet Avery and returning her salute as she entered. Also seated in the room, turning and nodding in her direction was Jason Skillet. Totty smiled, gesturing for Avery to take a seat as he stood stretching in front of the window. He was a small stocky man, with a bald head and one ear sticking out at a horizontal angle.

  “I’ve asked Captain Skillet to sit in. Now what happened last night?”

  Avery fixed a humorless smile and nodded to Skillet. He returned her nod, his wolf mask still in place and giving nothing away. This meeting already had the feeling of a slap in the face.

  “A massed march led from Lafayette to Niagara Square. At least fifteen hundred bods,” she began. Totty was glancing at Skillet as she spoke. “They became aggressive and engaged us, routine clearance detail. Control ordered MRD, which I considered an over escalation. I turned up the heat, launched two starbursts then deployed Delta. We had the situation under control.”

  Totty was nodding along to the report. She glanced at Skillet who sat staring straight ahead, but nodded agreement.

  “Two major explosions changed our position. It was Ghosts sir. We lost contact with Bravo, so I regrouped and called for air support.”

  Totty’s head twitched and he began rubbing his scalp. “Have you formally confirmed the presence of Ghosts?”

  Skillet turned towards her, eyes narrowing by a fraction. Was he trying to give her a signal?

  “They were there, sir.”

  Totty dropped his hands onto the table and leaned forward. “Unless you have proof, there’s to be no mention of Ghosts in your report. Do I make myself clear?”

  “The insurgents,” Avery said. “Extracted as soon as AS3 arrived in the overhead. They took casualties, judging by the hosing down the Wraith gave them. Bravo team was taken out at about the same time as the explosions. The Insurgents ran a good op.”

  “Left us with a bloody nose, our casualty figures are ugly.” Totty said, smoothing back imaginary hair from his bald forehead.

  “It was under control until the explosion.” Skillet said. “It’s likely they orchestrated the whole riot.”

  “How many did we lose?” Totty asked.

  Avery knew he already had this information. So the question made her verbalize the number, in front of her CO.

  “Twenty four.”

  “A bloody, bloody nose,” Totty said. “We can’t afford to lose that many.”

  Avery didn’t reply. She held his gaze and tried to maintain her blank expression.

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Enough for you Jason?”

  “Yes sir, I’ll head to debrief,” Skillet replied.

  “Sir?” Avery asked, prickling, it was her job to run the out brief.

  “You’re wanted at Divisional. I’ve asked Captain Skillet to step into your shoes while you’re away,” Totty replied.

  Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists. “Sir, I didn’t drop the ball last night.”

  “We’re not replacing you. Go to Fort Drum and we’ll discuss organizational structure when you return.”

  “If you don’t need me anymore?” Skillet said.

  “Off you go Jason,” Totty said.

  “Good luck Boss, for what it’s worth, you did good last night.” Skillet said, shaking her hand firmly and looking into her eyes. His look had that of exchanging a secret.

  Avery was in no mood for subtlety. “They’re a good unit, look after them.”

  “I’ve a good example to follow” he said, saluting Totty and leaving the office.

  Avery took a deep breath to stifle a rising sense of embarrassment. Surely she wasn�
�t to blame for an escalating situation on the ground.

  “So what do Divisional want with me?”

  “I don’t know and that’s the truth. Do you think I want to lose one of my most experienced officers at a time like this?”

  “If it’s about last night then I deserve the chance to write up my report before they debrief me.”

  “It’s not about that.” Totty said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re the fourth officer they’ve asked to interview. Jason was there last week. He was back on base the next day.”

  “What’s your take on last night?”

  “A bloody mess,” Totty replied, holding up a hand. “It’s not all your fault. Control called a bad play and I’ll find out who that was.”

  “Not all my fault?” Avery asked.

  “How long have we known each other?”

  “Give me it straight sir.”

  “I always say you’re a credit to the army. A valued member of my team and you’re adherence to orders is second to none. But Tess, sometimes you need to know when to call your own play. To hell with Control, have some faith in yourself.”

  “Can I be included in debrief? If we all work together, we can avoid this type of clusterfuck.”

  “Leave it for now. You’re like a dog with a bone.”

  “It’s an important bone sir. Not only for me.”

  “A car’s waiting for you outside. When you get back we’ll discuss strategy. I won’t see my command lose that many again.”

  #

  Avery covered her eyes at reflected sunlight from the white landscape. It was still bitterly cold, but the sun gave warmth to the early morning. She pulled on a beret, smoothing down the side while looking for her transport.

  Out of place in the surroundings, a red saloon sat parked on the kerb in front of her. A man in a green jumpsuit lounged behind the wheel, reading a book. He jumped in fright when she knocked on the passenger window. His book falling into the footwell.

  “Are you waiting for Major Avery?”

  “Yes sir,” the man replied. He spoke softly with a mid-west accent.

  Avery climbed in beside the driver. He retrieved the fallen book and placed it into a holding cradle. He was tall, head almost reaching the car’s ceiling. His green jumpsuit appeared too large for his body. Under a mess of short black spiky hair, his expression seemed permanently puzzled.

  The car was manually operated and the driver pressed pedals, shifted gears and turned the wheel. They drove in silence out of the security gates. Turning away from the city and following an easterly route.

  “Do you all drive red cars at Divisional?” Avery asked.

  “Oh, no sir, this is so we can merge into normal traffic. Spend a lot of time on the road. Don’t want to be a moving target.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Corporal Spencer, sir,” He glanced at her as he spoke, beaming a smile that gave him a charming look. Like a young farmer, honest and open.

  “Which route are you taking?”

  “Direct sir, need to get you there for twelve.”

  “Suitably vague Spencer.”

  He laughed, nodding agreement.

  She settled back in her chair, the outside world disconnected from her in the warm, compact vehicle. Her mind drifted towards Divisional and what they wanted.

  Tests?

  In the past, divisional held monthly meetings and debriefs, particularly following problematic operations. In the last few months though, there had been a lack of regular contact with divisional command.

  Spencer pumped the brake without warning as they approached a junction. A small car pulled out across the road in front of them, its brakes squealing as it skidded to a halt across two lanes. Pale sullen youths stared aggressively through the back windows. She watched them with more pity than fear, as they all waited for the traffic lights to change.

  “They look like bank robbers,” Spencer said.

  “Bank robbers don’t need to leave their houses, they use logic bombs.” Avery murmured in reply.

  As their car wheel spun away, the youths craned their necks to hold eye contact.

  Spencer increased their speed as they joined the interstate. They were almost alone on the morning road. Rising fuel costs and rationing had removed most non-essential travel. Unless you were a millionaire, gas was a luxury.

  “I don’t suppose you know what divisional want?”

  “No sir, they wouldn’t tell a driver.”

  “We’re a collective Spencer. Driver, cook, medic, administrator and soldier. We function together as a unit.”

  “Thanks sir.”

  It was a practiced line and one that she’d used on a regular basis. Spencer was smiling and seemed pleased by it. He passed her a bottle of water and two bananas.

  As they approached the Rochester exit, Avery stared out of the passenger window. Splashed across advertising boards parallel to the road, were the promises of a perfect life.

  Models posed in designer clothes with perfume bottles, more intricate in design than the contents would smell, sleek cars gleaming with magnetic desire, far away beaches with obligatory models larking in the sand. The succession of images gradually became more disfigured by black graffiti. On the last board, a cartoon family sat around a table. Each figure dressed in combat uniform. Their silver colored faces grinning with demonic smiles. Eyes bright red spots. At the head of the table, a Major was carving up a human form while the others held up plates.

  “It’s getting pretty damn bad out there at the moment,” Spencer said, breaking her concentration. “It’s no wonder everyone logs into Braintree for an escape.”

  “Too many people waste their lives in VR.”

  “There isn’t much else to do in the real world. When I was a kid, we were free. Now my family are prisoners in their own homes.”

  “We need strong leadership then it will all go back to normal.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?”

  “It will. We need to spread the wealth, create jobs and build houses. Once the Russia-China-Iran Alliance backs down we can get back on with life.”

  “What about Ghosts?”

  Avery considered last night’s events. They were aptly named as she’d never even seen one.

  “Ghosts are a symptom not the cause,” she said, half turning to eye him. He would have to be a well-informed driver to know about the Ghost attack last night.

  “Have you ever heard of Kadigan?”

  This driver could be a spy or he could be recording her. Kadigan was the shadowy leader of the Ghost movement but as far as she knew there was no intelligence other than his name.

  “The Ghosts claim to be ghosts of our former lives. Nano free religious nuts who want to take us back fifty years and have us all working fields.”

  “Do they have more advanced technology than us?”

  He asked a lot of questions, much more than her regular driver. She dismissed the idea of a spy remembering him fumbling his book. He could still be recording her. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  Spencer looked even more puzzled. “Only what I heard.”

  “They’re terrorists. They want us to watch and react because they can’t fight us in the open. We’re never going to slow down technology advancements and fall behind the rest of the world.”

  “So why do they keep fighting?”

  “They won’t for much longer. We’ll catch them and when we do, I’ll be there to watch.”

  “Progress is inevitable, eh Sir?”

  Avery nodded agreement but let the conversation peter out, leaning back and pushing thoughts from her mind. The car was warm and comfortable. Occasional light bumps and dips gently rocking her.

  “Sir, we’re almost there.”

  Avery jolted herself back to reality, unsure whether or not she had dozed off. The area was recognizable, even covered with snow. Fort Drum was close. She stretched her sluggish muscles, sipping water to combat a metallic taste in her mouth.

&nb
sp; At the first entrance, Spencer placed his hand on a biometric scanner. A welcome rush of cool air flooded through the open window, prickling her neck and arms. Two guards surveyed the car with thermal and x-ray cameras. One spoke into a radio and the large steel sheeted gate opened. They drove through. Turning right away from the main drag and towards the training and medical buildings.

  “I hope I’m ready,” Avery said.

  “You’ll be perfect,” Spencer replied. He slowed to a stop outside a gated inner compound.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re the only one so far to ask my name.”

  There was a sudden change in the man’s demeanor. He no longer called her Sir and seemed to have aged. He opened the driver’s door and rolled out of the car in a smooth movement. Avery followed his lead, staring at his profile against the bright sun.

  “This way,” he said, over his shoulder.

  The compound guards saluted and stood aside as Spencer walked towards the entrance. They nodded to her as she followed. Uneasy, she glanced back at the guards, to reaffirm what had happened.

  Spencer entered the building and held open a door.

  “Sorry about that, your first test,” he said, dropping the mid-west twang and speaking in a general American accent.

  “Are you playing games?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, that was cruel. But I need to get you ready for testing.”

  Boots squeaking, they walked along a grey concrete floor. Double red doors dotted along whitewash brick walls. Passing through an unmarked swing door, they entered another similar corridor. Spencer stopped and pressed an intercom at the first entrance. The doors swung mechanically inwards revealing a large room, sectioned by glazed panels into three areas.

  Avery tried to hide her surprise. They were in an ante chamber, bare except for a black haptic suit, hung on a mannequin. To the right, a waving man sat in front of an instrument panel in a control room. The area in front contained a single black reclining chair, held aloft by a steel circular column.