“You don’t have to do that,” whispered María Isabel.
“I don’t get tired.”
Nina jogged the last half mile to the solar facility, pushing the bike. Deep shadows on the side of the BTRs opposite the tower offered good cover. The tower employees would have to move right up to the window to be able to see the ground that close anyway, and neither looked motivated to move. Nina let go of the bike and rushed around to the dark side of the closer transport. María Isabel followed, walking the bike.
The BTR-99 resembled a brick the size of a PubTran bus propped up on eight thick wheels, each seven feet tall. Hollows with traction coating allowed troops to climb to a door at the midway point along each side. Another door up front by the driver’s station had a small ladder that required scaling a tire to reach.
Nina climbed to the side door. In its center, a bar-type handle sat recessed in a circular well. She grabbed the bar, twisted it a quarter turn clockwise, and pulled the door open.
“Wow… no code?” whispered María Isabel.
“It’s a military vehicle.” Nina dropped back to the ground and picked up the bike like a toy. “When troops need to move now, they don’t want to forget the password.”
María Isabel scampered up into the BTR. Nina hoisted the motorbike overhead and pushed it into the doorway while climbing after it. María Isabel grabbed the handlebars and guided the bike into the troop carrier. Nina paused with one foot in the door, gazing out at the field of solar panels. The two men on guard duty sat on the steps of one of the scaffoldings holding panels, heads back and mouths agape. She chuckled and pulled the door closed.
At least I don’t have to kill anyone tonight.
Cheap canvas-and-metal seats lined the walls of the main hold, enough to seat twenty, ten forward of the side doors and ten aft. Empty weapon racks flanked the doors. Muddy footprints covered the back wall of the BTR, which could open downward like a ramp. A thin partition bearing two old medical kits separated the troop area from the front end.
Nina set the bike on the floor and headed to the driver’s seat. This particular truck had a dual-barreled machinegun mounted to a ring turret over the passenger seat, which operated via a periscope-style rig. A Slimpanel mounted to the blank metal wall in front of her would hopefully act as a windshield once she turned on the power. The pre-holographic display looked in working order, a clear plastic slab thirty-six inches wide, twenty tall, and about three millimeters thick. No cracks, but a few fingerprints.
“Oooh. That’s a big ass gun.” María Isabel bounced on her toes for a second before leaping into the chair and putting her face up to the device. “Darn. I can’t see anything.”
“I doubt it works with the main power off.” Nina sat behind the controls, a pair of sticks with no sign of a jack. “Shit. This thing’s gotta be eighty years old. It doesn’t even have a M3 port.”
“Is that bad?” asked María Isabel.
Nina raised both eyebrows at the physical ‘on’ switch, a one-inch wide red plastic bar in a sunken well. “Not necessarily. Just means I need to use my hands. If that thing works, let me know if anyone comes running after us.”
She pushed the power switch up to the ‘on’ position. Three status lights winked to life on the dashboard, and her ears picked up a low electronic hum. A raccoon-mask band of green lit up María Isabel’s face, and a split second later, the Slimpanel displayed the ass end of the other BTR-99, simulating a window.
“It’s on. What does twenty-three emm emm times a thousand three hundred seventy mean?”
Holy shit. It’s got ammo? “That means you’ve got 1370 rounds of 23mm ammunition.”
“Is the truck on? It’s quiet.”
Nina grasped the control sticks. Instinct said each stick controlled the wheels on that side, both forward for forward, both back for reverse, and different directions to turn. They made this for barely-trained troops. It’s going to be as simple as humanly possible. Complexity requires training, which costs more. “Yeah. Electric. It won’t make a sound until we start moving, and even then… hopefully not enough to wake anyone up.”
“The people in the tower might see us.”
“I’m hoping they work for Verde Mundial Solar, and won’t care that we’re stealing DMS property.”
María Isabel shrugged. “Or they’ll think the soldiers are driving it around.”
“Let’s hope.”
Nina eased back on the sticks, and a small rear-view screen appeared at the top center of the Slimpanel. With nothing but open desert behind her, she didn’t pay much attention to it, instead focusing on the forward view. The BTR-99 creaked as it glided backward at a walking pace. The groans and protests of its heavy suspension echoed in the boxy space, louder than the whirr of e-motors. The tower employees didn’t get up; she doubted they’d be able to hear the squeaking five stories up behind sealed windows.
When she got a little farther away from the facility, she pulled back on the sticks more, easing the behemoth up to fifteen mph. No sense of alarm showed within the compound. This is too easy. Oh, stop. I’m overthinking. They don’t believe anyone would bother. Or they know they can find it.
“Does anyone at the ranch have tools? This thing probably has a transponder I need to disable.”
“I don’t know. If anyone does, it’d be Patricia. She’s our tech. Bet she could disable that thing for you.”
Nina pulled more on the left stick, causing the lumbering vehicle to back into a turn. Once the rear end faced the VMS plant, she pushed both sticks forward. The BTR lurched to a stop, shuddered, and emitted a low gear-grinding noise for a few seconds while trundling forward. Before long, she had it up to sixty-five mph.
María Isabel kept her face pressed to the periscope as her chair spun around to face backward. “Nothing’s following us.”
“We shouldn’t stop. Even those two idiots will notice this thing missing. Radio back to Pedro and have him get everyone ready.”
“You got it.” María Isabel let go of the gun controls, and the seat auto-reset to forward.
The sky remained dark by the time the ranch house came into view on the Slimpanel. A spot of light winked on and off inside the barn, likely someone with a flashlight. Nina grabbed a black knob on the left, intending to respond with headlights, but one click clockwise activated a row of floodlights across the top of the roof as well as the headlights, which illuminated the entire resistance cell like they’d been caught in the flare of a nuclear detonation.
From the smallest to the eldest, they covered their eyes; she almost expected to see skin melt and clothing catch fire.
“Shit.” She clicked it off.
“Gah! Mother of God! I’m blind!” Pedro’s voice crackled from María Isabel’s walkie-talkie.
“Sorry,” muttered Nina. She stopped the BTR close to the barn and slapped a wide green button labeled ‘ramp door’ in Cyrillic. The hydraulic pumps whined louder than the main drive wheels had been.
Bits of rubber gasket flaked away as the whole rear end-cap opened downward, stopped, and unfolded again to create a ramp to the ground. Gabriella panicked at the sight of the military vehicle, and tried to run. One of the women grabbed her and held on; the child started screaming.
Nina pushed open the driver’s hatch and leaned out far enough to wave. “We’re back. Don’t be afraid. Get in quick.”
The girl quieted. Ramon stared at her in disbelief; animosity receded from his expression, leaving him somber. Pedro and Roberto helped José walk. Francisco, Josefina, Patricia, four men Nina hadn’t seen before, and some of the children carried boxes and plastic crates. Adrianna walked on her own, though had a noticeable limp. The middle-aged woman from the house also joined them, holding a pair of cats.
It took about six minutes for everyone to get on.
Someone in back hit a button, which activated the ramp. As soon as the secondary flap folded closed, Nina reversed away from the barn, turned, and accelerated north. The endcap sealed with a
resounding thud two seconds later.
The soft din of mumbled conversation filled the troop section. Most sounded guardedly hopeful that they might survive the trip to the UCF. One of the unfamiliar men questioned the wisdom of going into the Badlands, fearing superstition
“Patricia,” yelled María Isabel. “Can you check this beast for a transponder? Nina said you might gotta disable it.”
“On it,” called Patricia.
Nina stared into the rolling green-on-black of a night vision view. She got the BTR rolling at seventy-two before the shaking and shuddering worried her enough to stop accelerating. The massive tires laughed at bushes, small boulders, and cacti alike, though she made some effort to avoid hitting obstacles. When she did run something over, the only indication came as a soft thump, without perceptible shock.
Patricia opened the side door on the right.
“What are you doing?” yelled Nina.
“That thing you want me to fry is on the roof. I gotta go up there.”
“Let me slow down.”
“Nah.” Patricia waved her off. “I got it. There’s plenty of handholds.”
Josefina, a slender girl of about nineteen, jogged up behind her. “I will watch you.”
Nina started to question, but remembered someone referring to her as a telekinetic. She shifted her attention back to the viewscreen and focused on keeping the ride as steady as possible. Eventually, the system auto-shifted to standard view when the sun rose in the east. Vibrant color replaced bland monochromatic green.
A few minutes after full daylight spread over the desert, Patricia let out a yelp of surprise, and floated in the door. “Found it. Was a self-contained unit with an internal power supply. I unbolted it and tossed it over the side.”
“Let’s hope they’re superstitious and won’t come looking.”
She kept the BTR going in a more or less straight line for a few hours. The Resistance people sat in silence save for the frightened mewling of two cats.
“Why are you worried?” asked Veronica.
Nina glanced at the waifish girl hovering in the opening between the driver’s compartment and the back. Her too-large shirt and fatigue pants obscured most of her shape; large eyes and a pixie haircut made her seem younger than fourteen. “We’re in a BTR-99 driving into the Badlands on the way to the UCF. Any rational person would be nervous.”
“You’re afraid they’ll mistake us for bad guys and blow us up.” Veronica leaned in at an angle that would put her on the floor if her hand slipped off the doorway. “Aren’t ’cha?”
“It’s a possibility. They are expecting us, but… I don’t think they’re expecting this vehicle.”
“Where are we going?” Veronica swooped forward, standing against Nina’s seat, half in her lap, eyes locked on the display screen. “That’s pretty cool.”
Nina wondered if she’d remember any English by the time she got back home, and grinned. “We selected an abandoned town in the Badlands… Topowa, in what used to be called Arizona. Once we get there, I’m going to call for a ride.”
Veronica kept staring at the screen. “Cool. If we don’t get killed, I want to work for your psionic police. I want to be a therapist or something, helping psionics who’ve been abused.”
Nina smiled. “You’ll make a great therapist. And getting into Division 0 is easier than you think.”
“You don’t really know me, so you’re just saying I’ll be a great therapist to be nice.” Veronica looked at her and smiled. “It’s okay. Thanks for making me feel better. I’m kinda scared too.”
The girl returned to the troop area.
Nina drove toward the Navcon grid reference for Topawa. The BTR’s navigation system had no maps for the Badlands aside from a ‘do not go here’ warning, though it did show real-time coordinates.
At 12:17 p.m., the dust-covered remnants of a small town appeared in the distance. Most of the buildings had collapsed or been shot full of holes. Carcasses of ancient war machines littered the area, blackened and surrounded by mounds of windblown sand. She spotted a dingy white wall with a stubby steeple over a round-topped gate. To the right, the structure had a porch of arches by a small grove of trees. A vast breach in one of the old mission’s walls looked big enough to let the BTR into the courtyard. Nina figured a bomb or missile had hit it during the war, as no one out and about in the Badlands had anything capable of inflicting that sort of damage.
She slowed to a crawl and lined the enormous vehicle up with the hole. Gentle taps of the sticks eased the BTR over the ruins. It climbed the three-foot high rubble mound with ease and bounced to a stop in the courtyard. She shut down the power and exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Okay. Try to remain inside this building so no one sees you. Best plan is to stay hidden until my friends show up.” Nina grabbed the micro satellite unit out of her backpack. “I’ll be right back.”
The resistance people climbed down from the side doors, and dispersed around the courtyard in search of an outhouse after such a long ride. Nina jogged over to the front gate and climbed a rickety set of wooden stairs to the room within the steeple. If there had ever been a bell here, it had been scavenged ages ago.
She sat at the edge and opened the sat-comm unit. A telescoping rod expanded into a receiving antenna as six-inch tapered black wafers infused with glimmering silver wires opened. She positioned it facing the general direction of West City. The unit had a built in M3 wire, which she plugged in. A virtual holo-panel opened, with the words ‹Searching for Signal› on it. Come on, come on… The small dish pivoted left a few degrees, raised a bit, and edged right two clicks. ‹Satellite Acquired. Handshaking.›
A twentyish man in a green camo uniform appeared in another window. 「Unidentified female, you have accessed a restricted communication channel. Please provide identification.」
「Oh, wow. It would’ve been nice if they’d mentioned this would go straight to you guys. Lieutenant Nina Duchenne, Division 9.」
His annoyed expression evaporated and he rendered a salute. 「Lieutenant. Good to see you. Yes, we’re aware of your mission. Are you in position?」
Nina’s avatar returned the salute. 「Yes. We are in position and awaiting extraction. Twenty individuals plus myself.」
「Copy that, lieutenant. Sit tight. We’re on the way.」
「Great. Much appreciated.」
She shut down the unit and collapsed the dish. When she stood, she caught sight of a dust trail in the south. Oh, shit… Nina moved to the edge and braced a hand on the hot white stucco. Her vision zoomed in on the disturbance.
Three vehicles approached. Two resembled the BTR-99, but half the size with only six wheels. They reminded her of a Corporate version of an A3V, only more brick-shaped. The smaller BTRs flanked a similar truck, but instead of a troop-transport body, it carried a dual-pod missile battery. Two boxy launchers on either side of an array of targeting electronics each held twenty square hatches.
Missile artillery? Seriously? Oh, they know exactly what I just blew up… someone got fired and someone else wants heads.
“Fuck.”
She set the dish up again and stared at it, trying to command it to link up faster through sheer force of will. When the same man appeared, she mentally yelled, 「We’ve got incoming. Two troop carriers and a missile truck. They’re going to be on us in less than ten minutes.」
The man grimaced and held up a hand in a ‘wait’ gesture. He stared into nowhere for a few seconds before his gaze again focused on her. 「You’ll need to hold out for ten to fifteen minutes. I’ve let the extraction team know you’re in a bad way. They’re flying hard, lieutenant.」
She exhaled. 「Thanks.」
Nina unplugged the wire and ran while collapsing the sat-comm back into its case. She leapt out the tower window to the courtyard, taking the thirty-foot fall in stride. “Pedro!”
Pedro Del Olmo looked up from where he stood among a circle of men. Almost everyone else, including children, froz
e and stared at her.
Nina jogged up to him. “We’ve got a big problem. ACC is coming. I don’t think they saw me drive in here, but they’ve got an anti-tank missile unit. They at least know we’ve got that BTR.”
“Damn.” Pedro rubbed his chin, eyes shifting among the resistance people. “Ramon, take the kids and find a basement. Bring Mrs. Rojo… and her cats. If there’s no basement, hide in the truck.”
“Bad idea,” said Nina. “The BTR will be the first thing they shoot. Being anywhere near it is a death trap. If there’s no basement, go into the town, find a ruined house and look for a basement there.”
Ramon nodded, and ran off to gather the children plus one cranky middle-aged woman and a pair of yowling, terrified cats.
“What about that gun?” asked María Isabel.
Nina shook her head. “It might be able to take out the missile carrier, but in order to do that, we’d have to expose the BTR to direct fire. That gun’s got a range of about two miles, the missiles, probably forty or fifty. Even if you got a clear shot, I don’t think you’d hit it hard enough, fast enough, to stop it from launching a missile… or twenty. One of those hitting the front end would kill you.”
“So… not worth it.” María Isabel frowned.
Nina pointed at the remains of four huge buildings across a dirt lot from the mission. “We need to get away from the BTR and out of this courtyard. It’s a kill zone. Spread out among the ruins over there. Stay down.”
“What if they fire those missiles at us?” asked one of the men from the house.
“That type of vehicle usually carries anti-tank missiles. I don’t think the ACC would waste them on individual people since they cost so much… but even if they did, it’s a shaped charge warhead designed to punch holes in heavy armor. If you’re spread out far enough, they’ll only get one. Our best chance right now is to stay out of sight and hope they drive right on by.”
“We’re screwed,” muttered Silvia. She faced north, watching the children follow Ramon through a small hole in the wall. Nicolás paused long enough to wave goodbye, and she bowed her head to wipe tears.
The Harmony Paradox (Virtual Immortality Book 2) Page 70