Getting nowhere with this line of reasoning, I decided to appeal to his pride.
“I don’t get it, General. You said you wanted to push forward and increase your understanding of technology, right? Yet you’re still mired in this outdated and non-renewable energy source. That seems pretty short-sighted to me.”
His face hardened. “Don’t lecture me, Brant. You have no understanding of the problems I’m facing.”
“But surely solar power would give you everything you–”
“I’m in the middle of a war here,” he growled. “Do you understand that? This isn’t a holiday camp, and it isn’t some research project where I get to play around with toys and decide which one I like best. I’m using the tools that are at my disposal.”
“But if you put out the fires, the oil will last longer, right?”
“In order to put out the fires, I’d have to redirect the clanks I have stationed out there. I’d have to shut down my entire oil production. Right now, the oil is flowing and our infrastructure is equipped to utilise it, and I’m relying on it to drive forward our manufacturing here in Ascension City.” He gazed out to the south, where the sky was tinged with red. “I admit that burning oil is old technology, and maybe to you these…” He struggled for the right words. “…these fires of yesterday have no place in our new world. But to me, they’re the foundation on which we’ll build our future. They’re a remnant of the old world, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make use of them. Do you understand that?”
I said nothing.
“Well, it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. I can’t stop the flow of oil,” Cabre went on. “Not with the Marauders on the move.”
“And what if the war was over? Would you put them out then?”
“Most likely. Eventually, I may consider another form of energy, but even if I could stop the oil, I can’t manufacture the solar panels you speak of. Sure, there are panels lying around out there in pieces, but I don’t have the time to try to glue them all back together and install them where they’re needed. And I certainly don’t have the men to spare trying to put out those fires.”
“But this war could last years, right?”
“The war will take as long as it takes,” he said enigmatically. “At the end, Ascension will still be here, and the Marauders won’t.” He narrowed his eyes again. “See, the humans had their war and it was their downfall. They destroyed themselves. Now it’s our turn, but we won’t suffer the same fate. Our war will only make us stronger. When the Marauders are gone there’ll be a new beginning.”
I could see that I was getting nowhere with my argument. I opened my mouth to say more, but nothing came out. I suddenly felt further away from my goal than ever.
A radio on Cabre’s belt crackled into life.
“General, come in.”
He lifted the radio to his mouth. “Cabre here.”
“We need you at the perimeter, Block Nine, sir.”
“Are the foundations in?”
“Yessir, they’re in, but we have a serious problem here with the piering. You said you wanted to be informed of any developments.”
“Goddammit. All right, I’m on my way. Cabre out.” He returned the radio to his belt and pushed past me. “I need you to get to work, Brant. Check in with Lu and she’ll assign you a task. Start earning your keep.”
“General, is there any way I can change your mind?” I pleaded.
“Not unless you come up with a damn good reason for me to change it,” he said, and then he disappeared down the ramp and into the building, leaving me surrounded by unsympathetic strangers hurrying about in the white light of the spire.
14
The sledgehammer collided with the wall of blackened bricks, sending a jolt of vibrations up my arm and neck and through my aching muscles. As the edge of the wall crumbled and scattered on the floor I reeled back, dropping the head of the sledgehammer and leaning against it for balance.
I’d already been pounding away at this task for three days straight and there was no end in sight.
“Time for smoko again already?” Ferguson said.
I turned to see his muscular form in the doorway, his own sledgehammer resting comfortably on his shoulder, a friendly grin on his face.
“Hey, I’m not some sort of demolition machine like you are, Fergo,” I said. “I need to rest now and again.”
“Poor little guy,” he said, swinging his sledgehammer nonchalantly with one hand and knocking down half of the wall beside him with a single stroke. He waved his hand absently to shoo away the cloud of dust that was left in its wake. “You’ve been living the good life for too long, Twiggy.”
He’d been calling me that since my first day on the job, a dig at what he considered to be my stick-like physique. I would normally consider myself to be an average build, but in comparison to Ferguson’s massive bulk, perhaps I did resemble a stick.
“The good life?” I said. “Get real. I don’t think anyone gets to live that anymore.”
I looked back out across the ruined building and toward the street, and not for the first time wondered at the absurdity of this situation. Here I was knocking down a condemned apartment block in a city that was completely foreign to me, while back at home the humans that were depending on me for survival sat waiting, their food supply gradually running out.
This wasn’t what I had envisioned when I first left home and strode out into the wasteland. In truth, I hadn’t been sure what fate would befall me, but I certainly had not foreseen the possibility of joining a demolition crew and swinging a sledgehammer for days on end.
Conscious of my time slipping away, I stopped every hour without fail to weigh up my options. What choice did I have from here? My meeting with Cabre had failed to reach the desired outcome, and I was still faced with the same challenge that had confronted me when I first arrived in Ascension City: I needed the General to issue the order to stop the oil production and cap the burning wells. It had become evident that he wasn’t prepared to do that unless I gave him a very good reason to redirect his manpower at this crucial stage of his conflict with the Marauders.
That left me with a very real dilemma. If I were to trade my most valuable commodity – my knowledge of the Grid – to gain his favour, I’d be endangering the children. That was something I didn’t want to do unless I absolutely had to.
I knew I couldn’t stand here stewing over my choices for much longer. Counting back the days, I calculated that I had left home about a week ago. I figured I could allow myself a few more days in which to change Cabre’s mind or to come up with another plan. After that, time would begin to run short. I would have to return home to pursue other options.
There are no other options, I thought grimly.
“You off in fairyland again?” Ferguson said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Man, if you spent half as much time swinging that hammer as you do daydreaming, we’d have knocked down half this city by now.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Fergo, I’ve done nothing but swing this damn thing for the last three days.”
“As if, Twiggy.” He grunted as he heaved again and more bricks went flying.
“Hey, what are we doing this for, anyway? Why do they want this knocked down?”
“Out with the old, in with the new,” he said simply.
“Yeah, but what are they going to build here?”
“A luxury spa and sauna.” He shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I’m a peasant, just like you are. I don’t ask questions. I just do what they tell me.”
I sighed. “I just wish we were doing something more useful.”
“What are you, the Emperor of Ascension City?” he jibed good-naturedly. “Bashing bricks is about as useful as you can expect to be around here, unless you’ve got some hidden talents.”
“Well, I can’t stand here forever doing this,” I said. “How long have you been doing this kind of work, anyway?”
&nbs
p; “Few years now. Watch out, huh?” He tossed a clump of mortar past me and it clattered down the side of the building.
“What else have you done in Ascension City?”
He shrugged. “Not much, really.”
“So is this really better than what you were doing before you came here? This slave labour?”
“I don’t mind a bit of hard work. It beats running from Marauders.” He paused and a thoughtful look crossed his face. “Come to think of it, I was always better at lifting things than running. This suits me just fine.”
“Well, I’m happy for you.”
“What’s your problem with it, anyway?” he said. “You got something more important to do?”
I thought of Atlas’ weight on my lap, the warmth of his skin and his little fingers wrapping around my hand. I wondered what he was doing right now. Maybe he was reading his ‘Crocogon’ book again.
“Yeah,” I said. “I definitely have better things to do.”
“No one’s keeping you here, are they?”
“Not as such, no, but–”
“Holy shit,” Ferguson said suddenly. “Have a look at this!” He rummaged through a pile of debris at his feet, brushing away bricks as if they were made of foam, and extracted something from within. “Wow. This guy is ancient.”
I moved over to his side and Ferguson held the thing up so that the glow of the floodlights out on the street could fall across it. It was a clank, that much was obvious, but it wasn’t quite like any clank I’d seen before. Although gouged and broken, it was evident that this synthetic more resembled a machine than a human. Its body was made up of metal plating, hydraulics and servo motors instead of synthetic skin and muscle. Its face was a rounded, plasticky mask, and its eyes were comprised of metal rings and transparent plastic. This must have been some sort of precursor to modern synthetics.
“What do you think?” Ferguson said enthusiastically. “This guy must be… what? Gen Four? Gen Three, even?”
“I have no idea.”
“He should be in a museum.” Ferguson turned the synthetic in his hands as he examined him. “I thought they’d pretty much junked anything of this vintage. You know how it worked. Every time there was a new generation released, the old ones got rounded up and replaced.”
I walked away, staring out into the street. “Yeah,” I said, disinterested.
“Hey, show some respect. This guy could be your grandpappy.”
I smiled wearily. “Fergo, I don’t think it works like that.”
“Twiggy, my little one,” Ferguson said in his best impression of an old man as he wiggled the clank’s jaw, “come and give old Paps a kiss.”
“Hey,” I said. “Stop. Someone’s coming.”
Footsteps on the street grew louder, echoing hollowly amongst the empty buildings, and then three figures appeared out of the gloom. I recognised Liv immediately from her height and massive frame. She was flanked by a soldier on either side. They came to a halt in front of our building and stood there for a few moments consulting on something before moving on their way again.
“Wait!” I called out, scrambling down the rubble and out toward the street. “Major General, I need to talk to you!”
Liv stopped and turned, her brow furrowed. “The new guy, right? Brant?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
I wound through rubble, almost tripping over in my haste. “I need just a minute or two of your time,” I said. “Please listen to me.”
“Hurry up with it,” she said, returning her attention to the flip in her hand. “I have a lot of sites to visit today.”
“All right, I’ll cut to the chase. I need to find a way to stop the fires in the oil fields to the south.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”
“All of Ascension’s oil reserves are going up in smoke. Don’t you think we should do something about that?”
Liv shook her head uncertainly. “This is a matter for Cabre, you–”
“I’ve already spoken to him,” I said. “He doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do.”
“Do you know of anyone here who can help me? Surely there must be someone who knows how it can be done.”
“Well, I have a pretty good idea of how to do it myself,” Liv said. “I was involved in plenty of industrial projects back in the old days. That’s not the problem, though. The problem is allocating the resources.”
“How would you do it?”
“What?”
“How would you put out the fires?” I demanded.
She glared at me, seemingly weighing up whether she should waste her breath. “There’s a couple of possibilities,” she said testily. “Either by pouring cement inside the wells or by pumping seawater inside to extinguish the flames. One of the projects I’m overseeing right now involves a pipeline that’s being run from the ocean east of here into the city. We’re going to hook it up to a desalination plant and distribute–”
“What would I have to do to make that happen? To have it diverted to the wells?”
She shrugged. “Only Cabre could give that order. But right now, I don’t see it happening. Not with the conflict escalating the way it is.”
“So technically it’s within your means to do it?”
“It’s possible.” She waved impatiently. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the time for this. I appreciate you bringing the matter to my attention, but you can rest assured, we are not going to run out of oil any time soon. We still have plenty of wells that were protected from the Marauders and are still providing oil, so putting out those fires is a very distant concern right now.”
“What if I–”
The sound of tyres screeching on asphalt further down the street interrupted my question, and as I turned I saw the dazzling headlights of a Humvee bearing down on us. It pulled up abruptly not far away, and out climbed Major General Targen and several other soldiers.
“Major General Liv,” he barked, striding toward us. “What are you doing here?”
“Major General,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m checking on the progress of some of my projects. Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem. You were assigned to other duties, if I recall. Securing resources north of here. Do you remember that?”
“Those orders came from you, Major General. I take my orders from General Cabre.”
Targen’s mouth twisted sourly. “Your job is to lift a gun and point it at bad things that move, not to make your own decisions. Got it?”
The soldiers standing around seemed amused by Targen’s belittling attitude, and Liv herself shrank away, intimidated.
Her voice became softer, more uncertain. “My projects hold great importance–”
“Not to me,” Targen said. “I don’t give a damn about your little building sites. We’re fighting a war here. We need to get our priorities straight. Assign a foreman and get yourself back out in the field like I told you.”
“Yes. All right,” she said.
Satisfied, Targen turned and strode back to the Humvee. Pausing at the door, he glared back at us.
“One other thing,” he said loudly over the noise of the engine. “You make me come looking for you again, and I’ll personally sit you on your ass and find someone else to do your job. I’m sick of trying to get the message through your thick skull.”
He slammed the door and the Humvee spun away, bumping and thudding through potholes and disappearing around the corner at the end of the street.
Liv stood looking at the ground disconsolately and an uncomfortable silence descended upon us. Eventually one of her companions spoke up.
“Major General?” he prompted.
Liv seemed to suddenly remember that she wasn’t alone. “Uh, you’re dismissed. Both of you. Head back to The Midway.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As their footsteps receded down the street, Liv looked over at me a
lmost apologetically.
“I never wanted this job,” she said quietly.
“Last time I saw you, a few years back, you seemed to really believe in your cause,” I said.
“Oh, I still believe in Ascension,” she said. “With all my heart. That hasn’t changed. I just never saw myself at this rank. I’m not cut out for it.”
“Why did you agree to do it, then?”
“Cabre convinced me. He really wanted me in the job. Said I’d won so many battles out there that I’d command respect, that the troops would look up to me.” She smiled bitterly. “But they don’t.”
“Cabre’s not an idiot. If he saw something in you, I wouldn’t doubt it’s there.”
“He just put me through the ranks so fast,” she said. “My head was spinning. Before I knew it I was joint second in command.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Targen didn’t like that.”
“Nope. He did not. I know that he calls me a rank skank behind my back. And he’s not the only one.”
In the distance I could still hear the Humvee thundering through the streets.
“Why did he have to drive out here and do that to you? Couldn’t he just have called you back on the radio and discussed it in private?”
“Targen likes to use his physicality when he’s trying to make a point.” She shrugged. “He’s an asshole, but he commands respect and he gets results. He’s a much better choice than me to command these troops.”
“That’s not true, Liv. He’s just loud and abrasive. That doesn’t mean he’s a better leader than you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. She gathered herself up. “I should leave. Thank you for your kind words, Brant. Now you should get back to work, too.”
“Liv,” I said, reaching out and placing a hand on her colossal arm. “Those fires. I need to put them out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Can I ask why you are so adamant about this?”
“I came from a small community in the south,” I said. “We rely on sunlight to power some of our essential functions. The smoke is inhibiting those functions.”
“Solar power?” she said.
Not wanting to reveal the presence of the humans, I kept my response purposefully vague.
The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3) Page 12