by Scott Baron
“I would be glad to be of assistance,” the slender, protective-suit-wearing cybernetic personal assistant accompanying him offered.
“I appreciate it, but I’m the only one who knows what goes boom and what doesn’t, so how about you help the others look for any other useful things that may be tucked away down here.”
“Of course,” the metal man replied.
Omar began opening crates and piling high the most powerful of the explosives. He had been fortunate to be the one team member to possess a spare Faraday suit, and it was going to come in very handy. Since it wasn’t needed by any of his team, this meant he could carry an exceptionally large quantity of explosives wrapped in it, safely shielded from prying scans and eyes.
“Excuse me, Omar?” the cyborg said, looking inside a hastily opened crate.
“What is it?”
“I heard you mention these during the ride here. Might this be of interest to you?” he asked, holding aloft a finely crafted katana.
Omar’s eyes widened at the sight of the ancient sword. Someone had stashed away a souvenir, and it was a beauty.
The sword had been sealed in an airtight crate, and the fine oil coating on the blade had kept it in immaculate condition. He took it in his hand, feeling the weight and balance of it. Looking closely at the blade, he realized it was definitely not a cheap tourist toy.
“Wow. Nice find!”
He gave it a few practice swings, a broad smile blossoming on his face.
His technique was mediocre at best, but for time immemorial, boys had loved swords, and Omar––despite the century of his birth and cybernetic limbs he sported––was no different.
“Definitely taking this with,” he said cheerfully as he wrapped it up with the explosives.
Twenty minutes later, the team, laden with bombs, a few useful supplies, and one deadly katana, headed to the surface to begin the trek back to the undersea loop tube that would bring them to Tokyo.
When they had made the subterranean hop to the hidden arms cache in Parammatta Council on the outskirts of Sydney, Finn found himself posing an unusual question.
“I thought Australia was an ally,” he had mused.
“It was,” Reggie replied.
“Right, but look at this stockpile.”
“And?”
“You’re missing the point, Reg. Why did we have secret bunkers squirreled away on friendly turf?”
Reggie thought a moment.
“There’s an old adage, amigo. ‘Hope for the best, expect the worst, and prepare for both.' Seems that’s exactly what they were doing. Trust your allies, but be prepared, just in case.”
Accessing the nondescript bunker was far easier than they expected it would be, but the facility was completely off-radar, and only a very select few knew it even existed. For that reason, a simple keypad had been the only deterrent once they found the squat building and made their way to its basement.
Once inside, the sheer quantity of weapons took them aback. Crate after crate of firearms, racks of rocket launchers, and, of course, cases of high explosives and their accompanying detonators, lined the rooms.
The question of moving the explosives once out of the protective cover of the lead-walled facility was a simple one to answer. With only the suits worn by the augmented humans being capable of shielding the additional inorganic materials, there was really only one way.
“Oh, hell no!” was Finn’s immediate reaction.
“Come on. Your suit is looser than mine. You can fit more,” Reggie cajoled him.
“Great, so I can blow myself into even smaller pieces than you? No, thank you.”
“Look at it this way,” Reggie said as he strapped more explosives around his torso. “Would you rather be captured during the assault and vivisected alive by Ra’az scientists? Or would you just as soon go out in a blaze of glory.”
“I don’t want either, Reg.”
“Obviously. But given the choice, I think we both know which one you’d take. I know which one I would.”
Grudgingly, Finn opened his suit in the cool air of the secret bunker and began strapping explosives to his torso.
“If I blow up, I am so taking you with me,” he said with a grim chuckle.
Chapter Eighteen
San Francisco was quiet, even without its ubiquitous layer of sound-deadening fog swallowing up ambient noise.
No rumblings of unrest were to be found anywhere in the Ra’az facilities, nor anywhere along the perimeter of the sturdy building. But deep within its service and repair shops, an old Chithiid sat in front of a non-priority––and unmonitored––comms unit.
A very old friend, several hundred miles south in Los Angeles, was on the other end of the line, making an unexpected request.
“We are sympathetic to your plight, Maarl, but what you ask is too much,” the elder Chithiid said quietly over his video comms unit. “We can help your allies enter the facility by leaving an access door unlocked, but beyond that, I am afraid none of my men are willing to risk the loss of our hard-won positions for nothing more than a hypothetical opportunity.”
“But surely you understand the importance of this, to not only our people on this planet, but also our homeworld itself,” Maarl replied. “You are in the position to help prevent the warp ships from departing. Why, you could even be pivotal in overthrowing the facility. After all these years as the senior maintenance technician, you have nearly as much access as the loyalists.”
“Maarl, I am a janitor,” he said with a tired sigh. “Yes, a very senior janitor, but a janitor all the same.”
“Yes, old friend, but that means you have access. Access and the luck of being largely ignored by the Ra’az and their faithful.”
The old Chithiid thought a long moment as he sat deep within the secure walls of the San Francisco research facility.
“I personally support your cause, Maarl. We have known one another for many, many years, but I will not disable the hangar doors entirely. Too much suspicion would be aroused by such an act. I can, however, see to it that there is at least some maintenance underway that will hinder the Ra’az and slow the doors’ opening sequence. The rest is up to your people.”
“Thank you, old friend.”
“It is all I can do. My men will not interfere with your plans, but, beyond providing entrance, and a clear, unmonitored path to that exterior access door, I am afraid we cannot help you further. It took too long to achieve our positions in this facility. None wish to return to the deconstruction and salvage teams.”
“I understand,” Maarl said. “And I thank you for your assistance. Even a brief delay in the hangar door systems will help our cause.”
The line disconnected, and Maarl slowly rose to his feet to find Craaxit. The conversation hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped, but at least there had been enough support to give them a chance.
He found his friend leisurely eating a nutrient bar, while leaning against the doorframe to their barracks. Craaxit looked relaxed and calm to the casual glance, but closer examination would reveal alert eyes scanning the area for loyalist eavesdroppers.
Craaxit’s target walked into view, and he nonchalantly pushed off from the doorway and walked over to greet him.
“Maarl, it is good to see you. May I offer you a sustenance bar?” he asked, a nutrient bar held out in his extended hand.
“Thank you, Craaxit,” the old Chithiid said, accepting the snack. He kept a casual smile on his face as they spoke, though their topic was anything but relaxing.
“What word?” Craaxit asked quietly, the smile never faltering from his face.
“They will not aid in the assault,” Maarl replied in a hushed tone.
“Then we are done for.”
“Not so fast, my young friend. They will not aid in the assault, but they will create a temporary delay to the hangar door systems.”
“This is excellent. How long will it last?”
“But a few minutes. They are not willi
ng to risk an obvious hostile act within the facility walls. They fear for their security, Craaxit.”
“Do they not realize this is for the survival of our entire race?”
“Perhaps they do, but they feel there are too many possibilities for failure to risk their positions.”
“Cowards,” Craaxit grumbled.
“No. These are good men who have spent many cycles achieving positions of comfort in that facility. While I do not agree with their reluctance, I do, however, understand it.”
His younger counterpart thought on it a moment and had to agree.
“Very well. But we still must gain access. Breaching explosives may––”
“They will also provide a single, unmonitored access point,” Maarl said.
He took a small piece of debris on which he had scratched the rough outline of the building. Should anyone see the drawing, it would mean nothing without context. The door in question was marked with an X.
“This is the accessway. They will foul the locking system to remain open without signaling on the monitors and will feed a loop to a surveillance camera for as long as they are able. It is the narrowest of blind spots, but it should be enough to get them inside. Beyond that bit of help, your friends are on their own.”
Craaxit took the debris and slid it into his pocket.
“Thank you, my friend. I must inform them of this news. You have my gratitude.”
Craaxit walked away, pulling the old communications device from his hip pouch.
Daisy listened attentively to the brief burst of information over the Chithiid communicator.
“Okay, I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she replied, then powered it back to standby and slid it into her pack.
“Sounds like he’s got good news, Daze.”
I’m hoping so. Whatever it is, he has enough to warrant a meeting and not a quick comms discussion.
“It’s also not safe to use them for long.”
True, that.
Daisy walked to tell George and the others she was departing.
“Hey, I’ve heard from my inside guy. He wants to meet to give me details on what his people are able to do to help.”
“I’ll escort you, Daisy,” George offered, already slinging his weapon across his shoulder.
“No, I’ll be fine. He has more than proven himself to be trustworthy.”
“It’s not him I’m concerned about. I can set up a sniper’s nest a few blocks away. Keep an eye out.”
“I appreciate it, George, but I think you need to keep drilling tactics and op sec into these guys. They’re all really green, and this assault is going to be a do-or-die kind of thing. Literally. We need them as ready as we can possibly make them.”
“My men can handle that, Daisy. And I’d feel––”
“But I trust you, George.” Daisy took a deep breath. “Look, I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, but I never really felt comfortable with other AIs.”
“I know.”
“Really?”
“It was pretty obvious, actually.”
“And you were still okay with me?”
“Of course. Given your circumstances, it’s not all that surprising. You’re only human, after all,” he said with a laugh.
Daisy let out a relieved chuckle.
“So we’re cool?”
“Of course. And don’t worry, I’ll get these people ship-shape and ready to go before you get back.”
Daisy shook his hand, not shrinking from the cool metal at all, for a change.
“Thanks, George. I’ll be back before you miss me.”
She slid some hydration pouches into her pack along with a few energy bars, and headed for the door.
“That was surprising,” Sarah said.
Seriously, right?
“Cool guy, George.”
Yeah, I actually like him a lot. Solid dude.
“Well, he is made of metal.”
Ugh, really? Daisy silently chuckled, then picked up her pace.
“Don’t use up too much energy, Daze. We’ll get there soon enough.”
I know. I just want to get things moving, already. The waiting is killing me.
“Well, it’s only us waiting, really. The others are spread out and should already be almost at their targets,” Sarah noted. “I just hope Craaxit’s people come through and can get them inside.”
Agreed. I don’t want Finn coming all the way back with a “My friends went to blow up Sydney, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt” souvenir.
Australia.
The carnage was extensive.
Finn signaled the rest of the team to stay back while he and Reggie scouted the area, but he doubted there was any pressing need. It was the minimal level of stench of decaying flesh keyed them in that whatever had happened there had occurred quite some time ago.
“Holy shit, dude,” Reggie said in awe. “What the hell happened here?”
Finn surveyed the burned-out warehouse, his gorge threatening to rise despite the fact that the corpses were all Chithiid.
“I don’t know, man. This looks all kinds of wrong.”
The team had to detour en route to Sydney after collecting as many explosives as they could carry in Parammatta Council, having encountered a powered-down segment in the loop tube network. That little hiccup had forced them to cross to the next access point via a surface route.
Once they stepped out into the open air, they saw more than the usual deconstruction and accompanying remnants of a former city. While that was certainly part of the ragged landscape, what stood out were the several huge warehouses left standing.
They were intact, but their walls and windows showed traces of smoke that had climbed their walls from an internal blaze trying to break out.
“There have to be hundreds of them,” Finn said, surveying the bodies. “Thousands, maybe.”
He took out his portable recorder and captured still images and video footage as they walked through the building.
“There are three other structures like this,” Reggie said, stepping over a charred Chithiid body. “If they’re all the same––”
“It was a mass execution,” Finn finished his thought. “Look at the bodies. The rib cages were blasted in from the back.”
“Not conventional old Earth weaponry, either. This looks like alien tech.”
They looked more carefully at the bodies and saw that, indeed, the remains all bore the same signs. Killed by a pulse blast through the back before being burned.
“Look at the hands,” Reggie noted. “All four arms. Some of them were bound.”
“Humans couldn’t have done something on this scale. Even if they attacked in significant numbers.”
“No, they couldn’t. This was the Ra’az.”
The duo quickly surveyed the other buildings, only to find similar scenes of mass slaughter inside each of them. Finn shook off the horror and rounded up the rest of their team.
“We need to find a landline terminal to send this to Daisy and the others. They need to know.” He gauged the sun’s arc and plotted their course. “Let’s get across this hellhole and get underground, ASA-fucking-P.”
They hustled, double-time, and it took them only twenty minutes to find a functional regional tube. The comms line contained therein, while slow––as the regional AI was long-dead––still functioned, so they loaded the images and videos and sent them back to Cal with a brief message, then continued on their way.
The smaller loop net quickly connected them to the main line running the rest of the way to their destination. A few minutes later they climbed to the surface near the peninsula of Sydney Harbor.
Reggie was crestfallen.
“I always wanted to see the Sydney Opera House," he said with a sigh as he looked across the rippling water.
The once-magnificent structure lay in ruins, stripped to the bones. Adding insult to injury, the scavenging forces then decided to take the bones too. Aside from a few beams and columns, all that remaine
d was its concrete footprint on the waterfront.
“Destruction of art makes me hate the Ra’az even more,” Finn growled. “Look at this. They scrapped it for materials. Not even cultural appropriation of art, like other conquering empires have done over the ages. These assholes just tore it all down for parts.”
He shifted the uncomfortable bulge underneath his Faraday suit. It was a hot and sunny day, and the bulk of the explosives he carried shielded inside his finely woven metal mesh was making him quite miserable.
“How much longer before we get to plant these bombs? I need to get out of this stuff. It’s creeping me out, man.”
“Soon, dude. Soon.”
Craaxit was already waiting when Daisy arrived at their agreed upon meeting spot.
“Good to see you, my friend. Do you have news for me?” she asked expectantly.
“Greetings to you, Daisy. My network has been busy, and I have some positive news to relay.”
“They’re going to join the rebellion?”
Craaxit hesitated, a slightly uncomfortable look in his eyes.
“Not exactly. But they are willing to help.”
“What does that mean? Either they are or they aren’t.”
“In this case, it means exactly as it sounds. The Chithiid working in the communications hubs are awaiting my signal to open the service accessways and help guide your teams to the power systems to plant the explosive devices.”
“That sounds like they’re with us,” Daisy noted.
“But––”
“There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”
You know it.
“Just our luck, eh, Sis?”
“But what?” Daisy asked.
“But the men of the San Francisco facility feel it is too risky to participate in an open rebellion when the outcome is questionable.”
“They won’t help?” Daisy said, dejected.
“Oh, they will,” Craaxit corrected her. “But their help will be limited to a temporary, and non-sabotage-appearing delay to the hangar doors. They will also provide a narrow surveillance-free accessway to the one door they shall leave unlocked for your team.”
He pulled the piece of debris from his pocket.