Metal Flesh

by Austin Dragon

  "You do understand how dangerous this trip will be?"

  "I'm not scared. I'm with you. The Anarchists and Nihilists wouldn't be scared of all of you for nothing. I know why the Vampires are scared of you. I'll be okay." Lila watches him. "Oh, one of your people said that if I called someone a Jew-Christian that I might get punched in the face. What do I call you? Isn't Jew-Christian the name of your religion?"

  "Jews and Christians are separate religions."

  "But you all always work together."

  "Yes, but we are separate religions. Similar, but separate, and our faith is very important to us. And...we pray to the same God. Does that make sense to you?"

  "Yes."

  "Use the word Faithers. I don't have time to give you a theology lesson on Jews, Christians, Catholics, and all the rest we call Faithers."

  "Is the word Faither religious?"

  "It's a political term. Think of it as a synonym for the Resistance."

  "I understand now."

  "Once you go aboard and we sail, that's it."

  "I'm ready. I've been ready."

  "Let me see what you're wearing."

  She looks him over.

  "You need a code name," she says.

  "What's your code name?" he asks.

  "I'll tell you when I know you better." She thinks for a moment. "You look like a rube."

  "And that is?"

  She smiles. "Not too sophisticated. Not from the tek-city."

  Sprocket laughs. "That's fine with me if it's something you can easily remember."

  "How are you sleeping?"

  "I'm sleeping good now."

  She sees no reason to correct his grammar. "Have you ever been on a boat or ship?"

  "No, this will be my first time."

  Lila shakes her head. "I hope you're not a wobbly-willie and go throwing up all over the place."

  "Why would I do that?"

  "Seasickness?"

  "They got drugs for that."

  Lila stops and glares at him.

  "I'm just joking, joking. I'm not a seasickness person. I've done a lot of dirt surfing before."

  "That is not the same thing. But it's too late now. We're going."

  He grabs his bags and follows her to the massive ship.

  "How long will it take to get there?"

  "Mr. Sprocket, we have to go to the other side of the world, avoiding government surveillance, pirates—"

  "Pirates? There are real pirates on the ocean? This is going to be a great trip!"

  "I'll remember you said that when they start shooting at us."

  "We'll be gone awhile then."

  "Yes."

  "So what religion are you? And what religions are here?"

  "Interested in religion now, Mr. Sprocket?"

  "I just want to know, as long as there are no Muslims."

  She looks at him. "You do remember where we're going."

  "That's different."

  "The crew is Christian. My people and I are Christian. The rest are Jews, some Catholics, and even another Pagan."

  Sprocket smiles. "Another Godless guy. Great! I got a hangout buddy."

  Lila laughs. "Hangout? Mr. Haggard doesn't hangout, and he's no one's buddy."

  The Ship

  8:31 p.m., 7 February 2093

  The crewman shows Sprocket to his quarters. It's a small room with bedroom, bathroom, study, and kitchenette all in one. Before he can say thanks, the crewman is gone, closing the door behind him.

  He sits down on his bunk and looks around. No vid-screen entertainment here. This is going to be a long trip.

  It's bedtime. Sprocket lies in the bunk, staring up at the ceiling. He hasn't felt any movement in the ship, but it's been hours and they must have already departed. It's too quiet. He had the light off to sleep, but had to turn it back on—he felt he was in a coffin. He sits up. There is no way he can sleep in this room.

  He gets up and puts on his slippers. When he opens the door, the lights are brighter and his goggles adjust. Even before he can walk down the hallway, he sees an armed crewman at the far end of the hall. A man walks to him.

  Lila arrives and walks to a waiting Sprocket with now two crewman guards standing with him. She is not happy.

  "What is it?"

  "I just wanted to take a walk."

  "Sprocket this is not a vacation cruise, this is a military operation."

  "Can't I take a walk?"

  "What are you wearing on your feet? If the emergency alarms sounded and you had to get to the main deck, how effective would your escape for your life be with your velvet, playboy slippers? Your boots at all times. Why aren't you sleeping anyway?"

  "I can't sleep in there."

  "Why?"

  "It's too quiet. Can't you put me in the crew sleeping quarters? I saw them on the way to my room."

  "It's a cabin, not a room. We thought you'd like your own space."

  "No, I can't sleep like this. Put me with the crew."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yea."

  "You may hear men praying or see them reading Bibles and other atrocities."

  Sprocket laughs to himself. She's always trying to provoke me. "I'll survive."

  Sprocket gets comfortable in his double bunk bed. The bed above is empty. The sleeping quarters is much larger with three rows of double bunks. The men are talking—he doesn't know what language it is, getting their uniforms ready for the next shift, polishing boots with hand—machines can do that, he thinks—and playing solitaire. Some men are sleeping and he sees a few reading physical books with crosses on them. He's never seen a Bible so he assumes that's what the books are.

  He removes his goggles and, while keeping his eyes closed, collapses them and puts them under his pillow. He can feel the sleep coming as he covers his head with his light blanket.

  Third Day

  He has his routine set now. The crews work eight hours on, then sixteen hours off, overlapping shifts. He has no official duties at all, except for his own personal routine of walking down the full length of the ship in the morning when he wakes up. Other than the middle deck with the living quarters, he doesn't know what the top and below decks are. The command deck is obviously above and cargo is kept below, but that leaves a lot of other space. He is always friendly to his cabin mates with a "hi" or "good day." They respond but it's clear that English isn't their first language or that they even speak English.

  The cafeteria always has the best food. Everything is fresh, and he's eaten more variety of seafood in these three days than he's had in his entire life. Usually when he arrives, the cafeteria is empty; he's just missed the previous shift and it will be hours before the next.

  His "care pack" arrived on the second day. An old tablet loaded with thousands of books—no Net connection of course, and an equal number of vid-games. That's what he does all day, read and play vid-games. The digital books are in almost every genre. He likes the mysteries and spy novels. He's surprised by how violent some of the vid-games are—for Faithers, but that's what he prefers.

  Seventh Day

  Sprocket finally learned the crew's schedule so that he wouldn't be eating alone for his meals, and he found the rec-rooms—sitting areas for conversation and drinks, card tables where games of poker and black jack were the norm, chess, pool tables, and multi-player vid-games. People did their reading in their cabins; the rec-room was for socializing. In Tek World direct human socializing isn't a necessity and not even considered the desired form of contact—that's what tek is for. Here, personal social interaction is a daily practice.

  He finds out what Goth Lila meant. He meets Mr. Haggard. In his late seventies, the man is a physically imposing man. Sprocket learns he used to be a boxer and distinguished himself in the boxing world by beating opponents to unconsciousness, never losing a match.

  They sit at the card table, the seven of them. Sprocket, Haggard and one other man are the only ones still in the game.

  "What language do you spea
k besides English?" Sprocket asks.

  "Why?" the dark-skinned man asks.

  "Maybe I can learn a bit while I'm on this trip."

  "I doubt you'll want to do that. I speak Hebrew, Russian, Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, and Farsi."

  "I'll raise you two hundred," Sprocket says.

  The man watches him put the chips into the center of the table and glances up with a smile.

  Sprocket adds, "We can see your 'tell' when you're distracted."

  Haggard chuckles as he throws two hundred worth of chips in the "pot."

  The man smiles too as he shakes his head slowly. "So which language should I curse at you in?" He throws his cards down.

  "Doesn't matter to me. I can't understand any of them."

  "Okay, Mr. Sprocket, let's get this over with," Haggard says. Just the two of them left in the game.

  "I'm quite good, you know. You old-timers always underestimate youth."

  Haggard wins all of Sprocket's chips in the next round.

  Sixteenth Day

  It may be a military mission, but Sprocket enjoys his casual, vacation-like existence. Haggard doesn't have any formal duties either, but he's some kind of VIP (very important person), whether it has to do with the cargo, the ship, or the purpose of the mission, Sprocket doesn't know. Then there are the Jews who are always below, except to come up for meals. They interact with the crew, but avoid him. There's Rachel Glick, about his age, petite, with very fair skin and shoulder length brown hair. The rest of her "team" are the same age or younger, both male and female. They know he watches them.

  "What's down below?" he asks when he's back in his bunk reading from his tablet.

  One of his cabin mates in the double bunk next to him asks, "Why?"

  "Is it a secret?"

  "It is," the man answers with his accent. "You are a passenger, not part of the crew. You don't need to know anything about the ship or crew for us to take you to your destination."

  No answers from him.

  Twenty-First Day

  The alarms jolt him from his bunk. He only got to sleep moments ago, and he thinks he was having a normal dream. It takes him seconds to put on his goggles. Lila told him he didn't need them while onboard and inside, but he likes them. If he's going to be a secret agent with a code name, he needs an accessory.

  It is the first time he can feel that he's on a ship at sea by the slight roll. All the men in the sleeping quarters are dressed and run out to their stations. Sprocket gets his boots and jacket on; he always sleeps with most of his clothes already on, like the rest of his shipmates.

  He runs out into the hallway, but unlike every other time, there are no guards. The hall lights are flashing red and he thinks he hears a loud noise above. He knows where it is. Down the hall to the door to the stairwell, through the door, and up the steps he goes. One level, the next, and he then stops at the final door to the main deck. He was on board a full two weeks when he first learned the ship wasn't just a ship but a submersible. They haven't been sailing the seas, they've been sailing underwater. The indicator shows green; red would mean they were submerged.

  "Green light," he says to himself and pushes the door open.

  The rush of fresh air is both freezing and exhilarating. He hasn't been outside in all this time. His face is hit by the sting of water. At first, he thinks it is water washing across the deck, but now realizes they are in a raging storm. The sky is dark. He hears an explosion, and sees a flash of light to his left.

  He leaves the cover of the exit door and moves further onto the deck. Without the ship's hand-holds, he would have fallen on his backside and been tossed across the deck—maybe even overboard. He is so glad he has his goggles, as the rain is fierce. He makes his way, hand-hold to hand-hold, towards the center of the ship to see what the explosions are.

  As he nears the main railing to look overboard, he sees them. Several smaller ships are a few hundred feet away; three of them are totally engulfed in flames. One near the center explodes and sinks into the ocean. He is completely caught off guard and shakes as seemingly every gun turret on the ship fires at the remaining ships. They return fire.

  Something is buzzing around up in the air. Is it drones? Photo-flares explode and the buzzing is revealed to be dozens of people flying in the air with rocket-packs. There is no uniform or dress common to all of them, other than they are all armed, wearing body-armor and combat helmets. One of them sees him and dives.

  "Oh—" Sprocket knows he can't get away. He drops to the hard, cold deck.

  The intruder lands and starts to aim his tek-rifle at him. Bam! The sound startles Sprocket. The intruder's head jerked back from a bullet through the center of his helmet. The intruder falls back and disappears, swept across the deck by the rolling of the ship in these rough waters.

  Sprocket turns his head. Haggard stands there holding his old-style hand gun. It looks like a .44 Magnum, but he can't be sure. Old tek demolishes new tek. Haggard is angry, grabs him, and lifts him up as if he weighs nothing. Sprocket is thrown and flies through the door to land on the ground inside the ship. Haggard steps back in slams the door.

  "How did you get on the deck?!"

  "I walked out the door."

  Sprocket now finds himself surrounded by armed crewmen.

  "I didn't know I couldn't go on the deck. I only wanted to see what was happening."

  Haggard stands over him and seems to be debating with himself. He pulls him up.

  When the elevator opens, Sprocket finds himself on what must be the main bridge. There are a couple of dozen men of different nationalities at stations, most look to be African. There is a complete view of the battle happening around the ship. Sprocket doesn't ask and runs to one side of the observation windows.

  The ship's gun-turrets are firing in all directions at the swarm of flying rocket-pack wearing invaders. All he sees are tiny explosions in the air as one intruder after another is hit. He hears a different sound from the other side of the bridge and runs to that side to barely catch sight of the missile being launched. It lands in the middle of two ships and the explosion is so large that the vessels are lifted into the air as they explode.

  The bridge crew is amused as they watch Sprocket enjoy the "show." But they keep their focus on their station displays.

  The elevator opens and Rachel and her team exit. She immediately notices Sprocket and is surprised. She looks at Haggard, who gives her a smirk.

  Sprocket's head is rubber-necking in every direction as he tries to follow every shot and explosion. The sky lights up and lightning strikes an aircraft that, up until that moment, was invisible to him. The aircraft shorts out, catches flames, and crashes into the ocean.

  "Did you see that?" Sprocket yells. "The lightning took out that plane!"

  The battle is over and Sprocket now takes notice of the crew. Haggard is amused, the crew is apathetic, and Rachel and her team are annoyed. Then he sees Goth Lila. Sprocket straightens up.

  "You're fighting pirates now," she says.

  "Those were pirates?" He tries to remove the smile from his face.

  "How did you get on the deck?"

  "I walked out the door."

  "You would have had to go up two levels to walk out the door. What if we were submerged?"

  "The door wouldn't have opened and there would be a red light."

  Lila looks at the Captain. "Weren't all the doors locked down?"

  "Miss, he got out before internal access was disabled. He probably opened it one second before."

  Lila looks at Sprocket again, annoyed.

  "No one told me," Sprocket says.

  "You hear explosions and you run to them?"

  "Well...yeah."

  She points to the three men behind her. "These are your new buddies. They will make sure you don't get yourself into anymore trouble."

  "This was just one time. I'm not causing trouble. Just tell me what to do."

  "Don't leave your level. Don't go on the deck unless you ask me.
Run away from, not to, explosions. Don't fight armed pirates."

  "I didn't know we were fighting pirates." He covers his mouth to hide his laughing.

  "I always seem to get the comedians whenever I take civilians on missions." She looks at the men behind her. "Take Mr. Sprocket back to his quarters."

  He grudgingly follows them.

  "Are we close?' he stops to ask her.

  "We're close, and that means more danger."

  Sprocket follows the men into the elevator and it closes.

  "What is that person doing on this ship?" Rachel asks.

  "He's been cleared," Lila says.

  "Cleared? He's not part of the mission. He shouldn't even be here. Do you know the kind of cargo we have onboard? Why couldn't you have taken a dedicated vessel for your mission?"

  "There wasn't time."

  "The League has significant cargo aboard not only for the Jewish Orders, but the Christian Orders, as well."

  "I know that. It won't be much longer. He'll depart and he'll be gone. This ship doesn't have just one mission. We all have our own missions to accomplish."

  "We're in the Indian Ocean now, and there will be more pirate attacks and who knows what issues we'll have to deal with in terms of the regional governments. The League's mission takes precedence."

  The League of Artifacts, Curios, Curiosities, Mementos, Relics, and Antiquities; the secret society of Faithers formed within Washington DC's Smithsonian, and founded by a Pagan—Mr. John Haggard. The League had one specific mission: To protect all artifacts, documents, and antiquities of a religious nature.

  Mr. Haggard looks at the Captain. "Any damage to my boat?"

  "Minimal, sir."

  "Get the maintenance bots on it. I always keep my things in perfect order." As the Captain has his crew task the robots, he turns to Lila. "What's so important about this kid? Why did the Continuum approve your mission with him?"

  "We have a specific purpose for him. We have an open case file and we want to bring it to resolution."

  "And he has to go all the way to Islamic Caliphate territory to do it?"