by S D Tanner
Joker shrugged. “I’m an army tech specialist not a scientist.”
Reaching his hand out to Jessica, Judge asked, “Jess, do you know?”
“Don’t push her, dude,” Joker said sharply. “If she gets confused then she shuts down, and it’s taking longer to get her back.”
“Why?”
He knew why they were losing their connection to Jessica and he didn’t want to hear Joker’s reply. Although she was becoming weaker by the day, he wouldn’t attempt to rescue Jessica until he had improved their odds of winning. Swiveling his chair until it faced the screen, he said loudly, “Jessica, show me the floating cities closest to where the three arks were.”
Judge rose to his feet and stood by his command chair. Looking up at the main screen, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
The screen shimmered and the image of two cities filled it. Both were roughly the same size and a similar shape. Pointing to the screen, he replied, “The arks had to be supplied, but I never saw any ships in the region, so I’m guessing they park the arks close to their supply lines.”
“Got a preference between those two?”
He shrugged. “No. You?”
“Nope.” Judge turned away and, as he headed toward the exit on the Bridge, he said abruptly, “I’ll sort the squad.”
Once Judge had left, Joker asked, “How many cities do you want?”
“Five in total, including the one with Jessica.”
“Why five?”
“The one with Jessica is the main game. We’ll take the four surrounding hers. If necessary, we’ll sacrifice those to secure hers while we get her out.”
“How are we going to hold them?”
“Load ‘em with the Dead Force and use air support.”
“But we don’t know what other weapons the aliens have.”
“It’ll be a steep learning curve.”
Walking across the Bridge until he was standing next to him, Joker said, “That’s risky, Tag.”
“Have you got a better plan?”
Joker shook his head. “No, but I don’t think yours is going to work. There are too many variables. We don’t know how many aliens there are, or what weapons they can bring into play. Our troops aren’t fully armed and we have no supply lines. Although we can steal beacons, they’re not the same as having air support. We shouldn’t start a war if we don’t have weapons, arty, air support, or any idea what we’re fighting.”
It was a succinct description of their situation, and even he had to admit it didn’t sound doable, but if Jessica died then they would lose the little they did have. Unable to argue with Joker, he shrugged and turned away. “Embrace the suck.”
Screwing up his face in disbelief, Joker replied, “There’s the suck and then there’s stupid, Tag. I think we’re crossing the line.”
Spinning his chair until he was looking up at Joker again, he narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you have something better to do with your time, soldier?”
“Hey, I get that being a dead soldier isn’t much of a way to live, but it’s still a life. We could just get Jess and go.”
“No!” Jessica said sharply. When they turned to face her, she’d risen from the chair, her smooth features twisted in anger. “What makes us human?”
He shook his head. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
Joker snorted softly. “No one wants to die, Tag, not even the dead.”
Did he want to die? Once he’d learned Daisy was gone there hadn’t been much reason to stick around and had the aliens killed him inside the chamber then he wouldn’t have cared. Waking again inside a pod had left him rocking from rage to despair and back again. He was at his best when he had a mission, it gave his life purpose. His directionless nature was one of the reasons he’d spent so little time with his wife, Lisa, but if he were honest, it was mostly only Daisy that had ever brought him home. Finding Jessica being held prisoner inside the floating city at least offered him a way forward. Looking up at Jessica, her face was again smooth and impassive. She needed him the way Daisy had, and maybe this was his chance to right a wrong he hadn’t meant to do.
He rose to his feet, walking over to Jessica until they faced one another. “We’ll fight for your life.”
CHAPTER EIGHT: Send in the Clones
Jack had told Joker he thought the beacons were manufactured in one of the floating cities closest to the arks, but his memory was flaky and he wasn’t sure. Once Judge had pulled together a squad of five additional men to board it, Joker had teleported them into the floating city. Standing on the edge of an open cavity, he looked down at where the arks had been parked on the sand. Multiple wide circles of deep indents cut into the ground, each one at least twelve feet across and a foot deep.
In the distance, venator and quaesitor hunters were moving aimlessly across the sand, clearly looking for human flesh, but the people had fled the desert. There weren’t even any bodies left on the sand, so either they’d taken the dead with them, or they’d already been eaten by the hunters. He hoped the survivors had at least taken the injured, but in the harsh world created by the aliens, he wasn’t sure about mankind anymore. Joker had been right to say no one wanted to die, but when life got tough, often only the worst people survived.
“Tag!” The sharp tone brought him back to the floating city and its dangers. Judge was standing by the exit leading into the city. “What’s the plan?”
Striding toward Judge, he replied abruptly, “We can’t plan for what we don’t know.”
Snow white and with thin gold strands forming a pattern across the walls, the city looked the same as the one with Jessica. Long, smooth tendrils hung from the ceiling and white lumps emerged from the floor. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Joker had teleported them to the wrong city, and they were inside the one where Jessica was being held prisoner.
In theory, the recon should be easier than the last, but although he believed the bulk of the Dead Force were with him, he couldn’t be sure. How many soldiers had the aliens reanimated? For all he knew, they had a million troopers sleeping at the bottom of the ocean, and his twenty thousand were a tiny fragment of the army they were facing. If they had to fight their own troops, only Jessica could break their protocols. Without her, the war would be over before he had a chance to start it.
Judge had two gunners with KLAWs; one on point and the other on their six. Between them were five more soldiers including himself, giving them a total of seven in the squad. They were moving through each large room just as they had during their recon of the first city, only this time there were no blue-suited aliens or Defensors in their way. The lead gunner reached an opening with two paths, one disappeared into a glowing brightness above them, and the other sloped downward.
“Which way?” The gunner asked.
The city floated a mile above the ground, and he thought the manufacturing plant would be at the bottom. Although there was no logical reason for him to believe that, he was no tourist needing to see a spectacular view, and the path leading upward didn’t interest him.
Using the barrel on his gun, he pointed downward. “Head south.”
Unlike the graceful winding walkway leading to the top of the city, the downward path was like a mineshaft, starting as a gentle slope and gradually becoming sharper. Loaded with a KLAW, their gunner was heavy, and he began sliding down the slope.
“Shiiit!”
With the KLAW strapped to him by a harness and reticulated arm, the front loading was too heavy for the gunner to cope with the increasing angle. Losing his footing, he tried to compensate by leaning back against the weight on his front, but that just made him fall. Landing on his butt, the gunner scrabbled for traction on the smooth floor. It was too little too late and the gunner slid forward, gaining momentum until he tumbled around a corner.
“Benson!” Judge shouted.
The gunner didn’t reply, but he continued to swear. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Running forward, he realized too late why the gunner had slipped. The floor beneath his feet was smooth and hard like ice. His feet went out from under him and he landed on his left side, still holding his gun. Like the gunner, he scrambled to find traction on a surface that felt like it was drenched in WD40. No part of him offered any resistance on the slick floor and he rolled onto his back, sliding uncontrollably down the slope.
“Judge, pull back!”
“You’re not the fun police Tag.”
Despite trying to stay on his back, his body had slid until he was on his side. Unable to hold his head upright, his helmet was now skidding along the floor, and the harsh scraping noise made it hard to hear through his earpiece.
“Say again, Judge.”
“Goddamn it, what is this stuff?”
He’d heard Judge right the first time and, as usual, he was doing whatever he wanted. Although he was annoyed Judge hadn’t followed his order, there was no time to worry about him. Now surfing on his stomach, his arms were splayed on either side of him. Gripping his gun firmly, his empty stomach was beginning to churn uncomfortably. The downward ride wasn’t a straight one and he was spiraling in wide circles, making his stomach twist with every turn.
“Woo hooooo! Woo! Woo!”
“Who the hell is shouting?”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Name?”
“Prince.”
“Shut the fuck up, Prince.” When Prince did exactly as he was told, he shouted, “Benson! Sitrep!” His reply came in the form of the heavy hammering of a KLAW on rapid fire. “Benson!”
“Clones and drones!”
Benson’s reply didn’t make sense, but he didn’t have long to wait. His slippery ride came to end when he slammed head first into a white wall. The impact was enough to make him bounce backward and fall down a ten-foot shaft, landing hard onto a solid floor. Using his left hand to steady himself, he leveraged from his right leg and stood upright. Benson was to his left and shooting at something he couldn’t see. A dozen hundred-foot long benches, each with metal frames over them, were whirring and clattering. At the far end of the room were piles of metallic equipment.
“Benson, cease fire!”
“But…”
Judge landed next to him, knocking him forward. “Follow your orders!”
The KLAW fell silent and the rest of the squad dumped through the hole in the ceiling, skidding gracelessly into the room. The machinery under the hoods over the benches didn’t stop whirring. In the gaps between the curved hoods, chunks of molded metal moved smoothly from one station to the next. Once underneath a hood, a light or robotic arm did something to the molded metal before releasing it to the next station.
“Factory?” Judge asked, sounding puzzled.
With a dozen production lines, each covered with hoods, he supposed it was a factory, but he had no idea what it was making. A bullet whizzed past his helmet, catching him by surprise. Tracing the trajectory, a man identical to the clone they’d found on the beacon was firing at him. Compared to the KLAW it was a low caliber weapon, and the man might as well have been using a pea shooter against his armor.
He raised his hand indicating his squad wasn’t to return fire and walked toward the production line the man was hiding behind. His confidence was greeted by a wall of low caliber bullets. If he stood still long enough, then the low caliber bullets might eventually damage his armor, but that was never going to happen.
“Cut that out!”
Reaching the first long production line, he sat on it while he swung his legs to the other side. The chunk of molded metal on the rolling belt collided into his side and he swiped at it, only to learn it was heavier than it looked. Behind the line was a column of clones, each one crouched behind the other and firing directly at him. He grabbed the clone nearest to him by the collar and hauled him onto his feet.
“Cut it out!”
The gunfire stopped abruptly, and he looked over the clone’s shoulder at his identical brothers. It appeared, where the clones were happy enough to shoot at him, they wouldn’t fire at one of their own. He wasn’t surprised, the aliens only ever used sentient creatures as slaves. Letting his gun swing by his side, he spun the clone around so the others could see the back of his neck.
Tapping the clone’s neck, he made a motion to pull something out of it. “Pull out your hitchhiker.” Repeating the action, exaggerating every movement for effect, he added, “Kill it.”
Twisting under his grip, the clone looked back at him, his eyes wide with surprise. Once he loosened the grip on his collar, the clone pushed at his chest plate as if to free himself. Tightening his grip on the clone, it didn’t take long for him to realize his error. The clones hiding behind the production line had pulled against the wall, and the one in his hand jerked rapidly as bullets tore through his chest and gut. The impact threw the clone into his body and he stumbled backward. The corridor between the production lines had filled with robot gunners that had materialized out of nowhere.
Benson shouted, “I’m hit!”
“I’m hit!”
“I’m hit!”
Three different voices meant three of his squad were down. Seven men were no challenge for heavily armed robot gunners, and having only four left made it even more impossible to win. With no way up the slippery slide, they couldn’t even retreat. If he tried to fight his way forward, then not only would his squad be wiped out, but so would the clones.
Pointing at one of the clones staring up at him from behind the production line, he mimicked pulling something from his neck. “Do it!”
Judge had called Joker for an emergency evac and the room dissolved into the nothingness of teleportation.
CHAPTER NINE: DEFCON 5
“That,” he said, pointing at the main screen on the Bridge.
Judge had his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth turned downward. “Five cities, including the one we just barely escaped from.”
“It has a manufacturing plant.”
“But you don’t know what it makes.”
They hadn’t made it to the back of the large room to see what the twelve production lines made. Maybe they produced weapons or ammunition or even robot gunners. All he knew was they made something inside the city, and he needed anything he could get his hands on.
“It doesn’t matter. We might be able to adapt it to make what we need.”
Judge’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Like guns, ammo, missiles, frags, AVs and jets?”
“Don’t be a pain in my ass, Judge.” Narrowing his eyes at him, he added, “You could ask.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” When Judge didn’t uncross his arms, and continued staring at him blankly, he added, “You said so yourself, we don’t know which cities are worth taking.”
“How am I supposed to talk to Lolo?” Flicking his chin at Jessica, Judge asked, “Why can’t she talk to her?”
In theory, Jessica could talk to Lolo without Judge, but he was relying on her relationship with him. He was confident Lolo would do more for Judge than she would for him or Jessica. “You know why.”
When Judge didn’t reply, he looked at Jessica questioningly. Although her expression didn’t change, she answered his unspoken question. “Lolo is present.”
The change in Judge was immediate and he smiled at Jessica as if she were Lolo. “Is she ok?”
“I am well,” Jessica replied, but her accent lilted in the way Lolo’s had.
“Ask her what the aliens know about us,” he said.
Waving his hand at him, making clear he wasn’t listening, Judge continued staring at Jessica. “Are you still…whole?”
Lolo nodded. “I have form.”
“Is it the same as before?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“In a city.”
“What are you doing?”
“I exist.”
“What’s your role?”
“I belong.”
“Who owns you?”
“We are one.”
“Can they hear us now?”
“Yes.”
Judge shot him a worried look. “We can’t talk to her without them knowing. They’ll kill her.”
Touching Judge’s arm, Lolo gave him a sad smile which looked odd on Jessica’s usually calm features. “No, they will not.”
“Why not?”
“They…we do not fear you.”
“Arrogant assholes,” Joker muttered, and he had to agree.
The aliens didn’t think he could do anything meaningful. He could steal arks, break robot gunners, even rescue Jessica and take a city or two, but what would that mean to them? Although he now had an army of twenty thousand Dead Force soldiers, how many more were there in the world? The core of his problem was he didn’t know how large or capable his enemy was. Even with everything he’d done to date, they still saw him as nothing more than a chicken in a worthless flock that was incapable of doing them any harm. In military terms, they would have called him DEFCON 5, meaning he was no threat to anyone.
“We?” Judge asked, but he sounded worried. “Are you with the enemy now?”
Lolo hesitated, seeming flustered at being caught out. “I…I mean them…they…”
Taking Jessica’s hand as if she really were Lolo, Judge said, “Don’t leave us. Don’t leave me.”
Her eyes became focused and she nodded, clearly miserable. “I don’t want to, but…” The words drifted away, but her message was clear. She wasn’t strong enough to stand against the aliens, not in the same way Jessica was.
Covering the distance between them, he pushed past Judge until he was looking down at Jessica’s face. Grabbing her by the jaw, he glowered at her. “Keep it together, Lolo. You need to disrupt the enemy, not cave into them.”
Lolo pulled back and glared at him. “How am I supposed to do that?”
From behind him, Judge said in a low and warning tone, “Tag…”
“Shut up, Judge,” he replied without turning. Still staring down at Lolo, he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t screw up, Lolo, or I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”