by Isaac Hooke
“Careful,” Shaw told her mom.
“Let go of me, you lout!” Mrs. Chopra said.
Algorithm released her. Mr. Chopra hurried to her side and shielded her from the terrible robot. But then he slipped a moment later, and Brat was there to catch him. Surprisingly he allowed the robot to return him to his feet without saying a word of insult.
Rade reached the peak of the rubble mound and surveyed the terrain ahead. The route wasn’t going to get any easier. A quick check of the overhead map confirmed Tahoe’s location on the beach ahead. According to the HUD, the shortest path to Tahoe was straight across the street ahead, but the problem was that the map didn’t show the devastation that had befallen the city: all the buildings were indicated in the same state they were in when the map was recorded. Given the devastation he saw ahead, Rade decided the best course of action was to divert toward the beach and proceed from there.
He was climbing down the eastern side of the rubble when Tahoe tapped in. His friend was close enough that Rade could use the private adhoc network formed between his Implant and those of the other Argonauts.
“By the way,” Tahoe said. “You might want to take the beach approach.”
“Figured that out,” Rade said.
“A bit late, it looks like, judging from your position,” Tahoe said.
“Better late than sorry,” Rade said.
“I believe,” Harlequin chimed in over the comm. “The correct expression is better late than never.”
“Damn back talking AIs!” Bender said over the line. “What the hell you doing, listening in to Tahoe’s conversations with the boss anyway?”
“Tahoe was speaking on a public channel shared by our Implants,” Harlequin said. “Of course I had no choice but to listen.”
“Yeah, well listen to this then!” Bender said.
Rade heard an audible clank over the line, and he had to smile.
“Bender, are you all right?” Harlequin asked.
“Leave me alone AI!” Bender said.
“Bender just punched Harlequin in the face,” Tahoe said. “It didn’t turn out so well for his hand.”
“Settle down boys,” Shaw said.
“Oh hi, Shaw!” Bender said. “Good to hear you got back safely. How was Marseille?”
“A dream, as always,” Shaw said.
“I’ll bet,” Bender said. “You missed out on all the fun.”
“We had some of our own, don’t you worry,” Shaw said. “We’ve brought the twins.”
“Ah, not the little bitches again!” Bender said.
“I told you to stop calling them that,” Shaw said crossly.
“Err!” Bender said. “I meant the princely little King and Queen.”
“Of course you did,” Manic said. “The day you believe the boss’ kids are Kings and Queens is the day you’re able to punch Harlequin in the face without hurting your hand.”
“That day is coming soon!” Bender said. “I’ve been getting in lots of practice. On your face!”
“Well, at least he didn’t say your ass,” Fret commented. “He’s maturing.”
“Bro, you don’t understand the meaning of mature,” Bender said.
Rade disconnected. He glanced at Shaw, who was smiling widely, like him.
“You know, I’ve missed them,” Shaw said.
“As have I,” Rade said. “But I have to admit, it was good to have a vacation from them. If only for a little while.”
“It was.” Shaw reached across and held his hand for a moment, and then she released it to continue down the debris.
At the bottom they took a narrow sidewalk that was clear of rubble, situated between two of the collapsed hotels, and made their way onto the beach.
“Ah, the sea,” Rade said. “It’s a second home to an ex-MOTH like me.”
“Time for sea immersion and gingerbread men?” Shaw said, making a reference to a torturous routine from his training years.
“Now don’t get carried away,” Rade said. “It wasn’t that much of a home to me.”
Rade led the way to the water and then followed the shoreline. Behind him, Mr. And Mrs. Chopra took off their shoes and walked in the lapping waves.
“Uh,” Rade said. “This isn’t a vacation on the French Riviera you know.”
“It is to us,” Mr. Chopra said.
Shaw shook her head subtly and said, softly: “Let them.”
Rade shrugged, and continued to address Shaw’s dad: “Suit yourself. If we have to run in a hurry, and I mean a no-time-to-put-back-on-your-shoes kind of hurry, your feet are going to get fairly cut up by the debris in town.”
“That’s what Weavers are for,” Mr. Chopra said snidely.
The Weavers will be reserved for the soldiers who actually need them, Rade wanted to say, but he wisely held his tongue.
Rade gave the occasional clone corpse or scorpion wreckage a wide berth. He saw long channels in the sand near them that indicated where the bodies of dead soldiers had been dragged away.
Three police ships were abutted against shore here, including an older style F.P.B.—Fast sea Patrol Boat. The nasty-looking laser turrets the watercraft carried on the fore and aft regions were blackened at the tips, a sign of heavy use. One of the smaller ships was scuttled, with a huge hole in its side. Whether the damage happened before or after reaching shore, Rade hadn’t a clue. Those ships belonged to the Coast Guard equivalent, the Maritime Gendarmerie, and Saint Tropez was lucky they had come to the city’s aid. Most of the other ships in the area would have been recalled to defend Marseille, undoubtedly.
There were a series of open-air tents set up about fifty meters past the boats. Gendarme and Maritime Gendarmerie personnel milled about, the two types readily distinguishable from one another because the former wore jumpsuits that were the same color as the sand, while the later wore the typical blue and gray digital camos common to Navy men. Both carried laser rifles slung over their shoulders, though the Navy men also had smaller blasters attached their utility belts.
A large tent near the middle of the beach had a red cross on it, indicating a field hospital. Its presence meant that any hospitals in the city were most likely destroyed. It was obvious the beach was functioning as a temporary command and control. There were probably other such operating sites situated throughout the ruined city.
As Rade headed toward the tent that harbored Tahoe’s indicator, he still got the occasional double-take or all-out stare as men recognized him, no doubt thanks to his striking resemblance to the invaders. It unnerved him. He was accustomed to existing in complete anonymity. Sure, sometimes people gave him a second look because of his towering build and musculature, not to mention the hardpoints protruding from his joints, but it never happened with as much regularity as this.
Tahoe’s tent was one of the few that were closed on all sides. As Rade neared, the entry flap slid aside and his friend emerged to greet him.
thirteen
Rade gave Tahoe a hearty hug.
“Good to see you, old friend,” Rade said.
“And you as well,” Tahoe said.
Shaw hugged Tahoe next; the big Navajo accidentally bumped Sil, who still resided in the backpack. Sil began to cry, even though she was wearing aReal goggles, and Shaw reached around to take the aReal off, then carefully shrugged the backpack down to console the child.
“Sorry,” Tahoe said.
“She’s fine,” Shaw told him. “It’s just been a tough couple of days.”
Rade didn’t have to ask Tahoe if anyone was hurt, because he had accessed the status feeds of the men on the way here. Everyone was in the green.
Bender emerged from the tent with TJ, followed by Fret and Manic, and finally Harlequin and Lui. Bender’s hand was wrapped in a bandage, no doubt from his little incident with Harlequin earlier. The others had smaller bandages covering different areas of their bodies. They were obviously lower down the priority list for the Weavers, who would be treating the most badly injured at t
he moment.
“Lookie here,” Bender said. “You’ve gone and brought mammy and pappy Shaw! Hello hello!”
“Sister fucker!” Mr. Chopra said, turning away from Bender and the men and crossing his arms.
Bender smiled sarcastically. “I love you, too.”
“All the robots made it intact,” TJ said. “I’m very happy to see.”
Algorithm came up to TJ and they went through a complex series of fist bumps and slaps.
Rade lowered Alex and removed the aReal goggles from his boy. Alex rubbed his eyes and looked up at Bender.
“There’s the little warrior,” Bender said. “What’s up, my main man?”
Alex’s face brightened, and he said in his babyish voice: “Sister fuckah!”
Bender frowned. “Uh.”
Shaw spun on her dad. “Stop using words like that around my kids!”
Mr. Chopra seemed appropriately chastened. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know they would hear.”
“They soak up words like a sponge,” Shaw said.
“Sponge!” Sil said, her earlier discomfort forgotten. “Sponge sponge!”
“Cora, Dora, you’re in charge of the kids,” Rade said. “Babysit Mr. and Mrs. Chopra as well.” Shaw’s dad glared at him, but Rade continued. “See that they are given some food. Feed the kids, and check if they need to use the toilet.”
The robot nursemaids had worked hard to wean his kids off the self-cleaning diapers before they were between two and three months old using a technique known as elimination communication. Alex took a bit longer, but in the end the robots had him trained. Rade was happy to give up the self-cleaning diapers, as changing the collectors could get fairly nasty at times. Somehow he found himself getting that duty often in the days when the twins still wore the things.
“Psss psss,” Sil said, using her word for pee time.
Cora brought Sil toward the ocean. Dora lifted up Alex, and brought him toward the ocean as well, in case he had a similar urge. Mr. and Mrs. Chopra reluctantly followed. Lui joined them, making faces at Alex, who was giggling away. Of all the men, Mr. and Mrs. Chopra seemed to like Lui best. At least, they tolerated his presence anyway. Perhaps even more than they tolerated Rade.
“That was hilarious man,” Manic told Bender when the kids were gone. “Even Alex recognizes you for what you are.”
“No,” Bender said. “The kid made a mistake. He was actually referring to you.”
“Ah, he probably was at that,” Manic said. “Referring to me and your sister...”
Rade raised his hand quickly. “Guys, please. I’m not in the mood for your bickering today.”
“Sorry boss,” Manic said.
Bender shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on bickering. Dude’s words stopped hurting me years ago.” He suddenly turned on Manic. “What was that about my sister, punk ass?”
“There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” Tahoe said quickly. He drew Rade away from the others and led him through the makeshift camp. “This outpost was actually raised by the officers aboard the landed ships, shortly after the fighting ended. It started as a field hospital, and they built outward from there. Closer to the center of town, there’s another combat outpost started by the Gendarme, in a reinforced school that survived the attack.”
“For a Navy base, there are sure a lot of Gendarme here,” Rade said.
“The army is sharing men with them, of course,” Tahoe said. “The officer I’m going to introduce you to is in charge of coordinating operations between the two outposts.”
Tahoe took him toward what looked like the central command tent. It was open-air, like the rest, the canopy held aloft by steel poles. Underneath, men in Navy camos sat in the sand, some gesturing in midair, others moving their mouths silently, their voices shielded by noise cancelers in their helmets. No doubt they were inside their Implants, communicating with their counterparts in the city or other municipalities in the region.
Some of the men glanced at Rade uncomfortably as he walked by, perhaps recognizing his features and unsure whether he was acting for the enemy as an undercover agent.
Tahoe brought him to one of the men speaking soundlessly into the air. The individual was dressed in a strength-enhancing jumpsuit. When Tahoe approached, the man waved a hand in acknowledgment and then continued his silent conversation.
The officer finished a moment later and stood.
“Lieutenant Bastille,” Tahoe said. “Meet Rade Galaal. The ex-MOTH I told you about.”
“Ah, Monsieur Galaal!” the lieutenant said. “I have heard very much about you and your exploits. And your resemblance to the enemy is indeed uncanny. More than uncanny... it’s downright disturbing. Is it true that they based their clones on your DNA?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Rade said.
“I would not wish such a fate on anyone,” the lieutenant said. “To feel responsible for the deaths of so many, even though what happened was not in your hands.”
“Uh, yeah,” Rade said. “I don’t really feel responsible, but let me just say, I’m royally pissed off at these intruders.”
“And I do not blame you,” the lieutenant said.
“You’ve been in contact with other cities in France and Italy?” Rade said. “How goes the defense?”
Rade could finally get the behind-the-scenes lowdown direct from the horse’s mouth, rather than the doom and gloom opinions of Internet newscasters who had limited access to the actual battle space.
“The defense goes well, in some cities,” the lieutenant answered. “Not so well in others. Marseille has held its own against the enemy so far, with no clear wins or losses on either side. Other coastal towns have either been wiped out, or repelled the enemy entirely, as we have.”
Rade glanced at Tahoe. “So much for the enemy limiting its attacks to the major cities only.”
“Lyon seems to have fallen,” the lieutenant continued. “Paris is close to falling, though the country has thrown its considerable military might behind the capital city. For good reason—the enemy is concentrating its forces upon that city above all others. Enemy troop pods fall from the Parisian sky every few hours, and if it’s not pods, it’s tornadoes, as the invaders still control the weather grid. In Roma, the military still holds and defends key parts of the city, but the outlying areas are gone. Firenze fares about the same as Marseille. Milano is the bright spot, as they’ve beaten the enemy back to the city boundaries.”
“Any news on other countries around the world?” Rade said.
“According to my counterparts, other nations fare similar to France and Italy,” the lieutenant said. “There are small victories set amid a general backdrop of loss. While we have won here in Saint Tropez, for now, and won some small victories in other cities, overall humanity is losing. In some nations, the losses have become so bad, so overwhelming, that all hope has been lost. Take the Persians. They’ve dropped a nuke on one of their most populous cities, which they lost early on to the enemy. These are humanity’s darkest, most trying hours.”
“I’m surprised the United Systems wasn’t the first to nuke one of its own cities,” Rade commented.
Lieutenant Bastille raised an eyebrow, but otherwise had nothing to say to that.
“You mentioned the invaders still control the weather grid,” Rade said. “How come they haven’t sent another storm at Saint Tropez or Marseilles yet?”
“They probably don’t consider the locations of these cities to be all that strategic,” the lieutenant said. “Then again, we do expect a storm of some kind to strike Saint Tropez soon, likely preceding the third wave.”
“Third wave?” Rade asked.
“Yes,” the lieutenant said. “We’ve already repelled two waves of the enemy. It’s only a matter of time until a third arrives. This pattern is prevalent among all cities that have been attacked: three waves come. The time between attacks varies, based on the unknown resource allocation requirements of the enemy. But a third wave will come. And likely
a fourth, and a fifth, until all of humanity’s cities have fallen. This is why I append all of my answers regarding the status of Saint Tropez with the two words: for now.”
“Guess I was a bit premature in saying we won, earlier,” Tahoe said.
Rade hastily bid the lieutenant farewell, and he and Tahoe made their way back to the open tent on the beach where Shaw was catching up with the men over a quick meal.
“Damn it, Tahoe, I’ve carried my kids into a war zone because of you,” Rade said.
“I’m sorry,” Tahoe said. “I was convinced we’d repelled the invaders for good from the city. I had no idea the lieutenant was expecting a third wave.”
“After we’re finished eating,” Rade said, “we’re leaving Saint Tropez. If there is another attack coming, I don’t want the kids here. Nor the men. We’re getting out.”
“What makes you think the countryside will be much safer?” Tahoe said. “You told me you spotted troop pods traveling above farms and vineyards in the region. Plus you already suffered an attack at the vineyard.”
“Sure, there may be pods searching the rural areas for inhabitants,” Rade said. “But like the lieutenant told us, the majority of the enemy are concentrated in the cities. And I’m still convinced that what we saw near Shaw’s vineyard wasn’t representative of the countryside as a whole. The enemy was looking for me.”
“Because you can access their tech?” Tahoe asked.
“That’s my working assumption,” Rade said.
“The countryside...” Tahoe shook his head. “At least let the men make their own choices. If they want to stay and fight, they should be allowed.”
Rade studied Tahoe curiously. “I noticed that Tepin and your kids aren’t here. Where are they?”
“I sent them to an estate thirty kilometers outside of town,” Tahoe said. “With two combat robots.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Rade said. “It’s too dangerous here.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Tahoe told him. “Some of the men will want to stay. I want to stay.”