by Morgan Cole
Baseline humans were delicate creatures. It was far too easy to accidentally kill with a "non-lethal" weapon. Some years ago Earth weapon manufacturers had even started calling them "less than lethal" in some obvious CYA lawyer bullshit.
I had Metra working on a solution, but I suspected she wasn't giving it her full attention. She was still pretty fixated on getting her ship working so she could clear out the satellite stations and reclaim them. I couldn't blame her. If I were in her shoes I'd probably feel the same way.
"Hey Jake," Marty said.
"Yeah, man, what's up?"
"I feel like I haven't thanked you enough."
"For what?"
"For all of this. You saved my life. You basically made me immortal and jacked. Hell, I'm flying a fricking spaceship right now. Thank you, man."
"Don't thank me yet. I've also basically enlisted you into a war."
"Pfft. I told you, man, I'm basically a god of war. I've just never had the chance before. I won't let you down."
To be fair, Marty was looking a lot more the part than when I first met him. Both of us were wearing combat clothing that I had designed. When activated it would soak up light, allowing us to hide in deep shadow. It was the best I could do for personal stealth, since anything else required way too much energy and equipment for one person to practically carry around. Since the uniforms were made of Union fabrics they were fairly bulletproof and self-repairing as well. Both of us were wearing 9mm pistols at our sides.
In the back of Redemption I had parked my Krigar Assault Armor and placed the GN-75 and two Gazers on a wall-mounted rack. If we needed to use any of that, things would have gone completely pear shaped, and I hoped it would all remain unused.
"Don't worry, Kratos, you'll get your chance to fight. We all will, I think."
The green country below us became more and more brown as we got into southern Idaho and then into Nevada.
"We're getting close," Marty said. "I'll orbit a mile out."
Marty dropped lower, closing in on the blue dot. I studied what we could see. It was exactly as the satellite photos had shown us. A small airstrip, a group of administration buildings, and a lot of nothing. All of it surrounded by tall fences and guarded by lots of men with guns.
I gave an order and three of the infiltration drones popped off the rack and flew out the front hatch. Without some kind of specialized deployment system for the drones we'd just decided to crack the hatch as little as we needed to and hope for the best. The lights were off in the cockpit and the hatch was open for less than a second, so I wasn't too worried. If anyone saw anything, they'd probably just write it off as their imagination or a camera glitch.
The drones spread out and flew silently toward the base as we slowly orbited. Threat markers began appearing as they flew over the base. Back on the station, Brick was analyzing the data as it came in.
Labels with summarized data began to appear on my Interface, overlaying the base in the distance. Each label was a patrol, or a guard checkpoint, or a building. It didn't look good.
There were ten patrols, and most of them were four men each. Two of the patrols had dogs. Those patrols covered the area between the fences. All of the men were armed with automatic rifles, and every soldier was outfitted with an earpiece radio.
There were towers near the access road and they were manned as well, but I wasn't too worried about those. Towers didn't wander around and show up when it was least convenient like patrols. The soldiers up in the towers had their automatic rifles, but there was also one guy in each tower with a scoped rifle.
Cameras were everywhere. The drones picked up other sensors in the dirt all around the base's perimeter, although it wasn't clear what they were for.
Two three-story buildings were living quarters. Simple one- and two-bedroom apartments without kitchens. It wasn't much but was still more luxurious than I'd expected. I had envisioned bunk beds and drill sergeants.
What we didn't see at all was the hangar the two men had talked about. There was a hangar near the airstrip that would fit a few small planes, but it was completely open to the outside, and completely empty.
"Maybe you're right, Marty. Maybe it's all underground," I mused.
"With your permission, Jake, I will direct a drone to infiltrate an administration building."
"Go for it," I replied. I lost one of my three drones as Brick assumed control.
The drone flitted down to the building labeled as Administration. It was a single-story building, long and rectangular. There were a few entrances, but the one near the parking lot was the one that was used the most. The scout hovered directly above the door, waiting, invisible.
Ten minutes later our patience was rewarded. The door opened and a yawning major in a rumpled uniform walked out, letting the door close behind him. The drone darted through the gap, unnoticed.
The inside of the building was rundown, if clean. I watched the drone explore corridors with drop ceilings and fluorescent lights. Every door was closed, except for one. That had a fridge, a well-used coffee machine, and a few tables with chairs. The break room. This early in the morning, that officer might have been the last one in the building.
"What are you looking for, Brick?" Marty asked. I realized he was tuned into the drone feed as well.
"Physical access to the base network. The corridors don't have any network ports and the drone is unable to open doors."
I laughed. "Brick, you've obviously never worked in a cube farm. Just go up into the ceiling. The tiles are made of foam or something, just push one out of the way."
The drone rose and pushed on the corner of one of the ceiling tiles. It parted and admitted the drone into the maze of crossbeams, ducting, insulation, and cabling. The ceiling tile fell back into the groove afterward.
"Thank you, Jake, this is very promising."
Marty and I watched as Brick explored the space above the offices. As expected, network guys were the same everywhere. All the office's cabling was in the drop ceiling. It didn't take long for Brick to find a thick bundle. The drone delicately touched each one, using the sensors I had built into it, to determine what kind of cable it was.
"I have found what I need. Stand by while I interface with it."
The drone touched down in the nest of cables and stuck to the one Brick had found. It extended microscopic tentacles into the cable. They would let the drone connect to the cable without noticeably damaging it.
Marty and I were out of things to do on this mission, so it was lucky for us that internal security on this particular base sucked. It was minutes later when Brick reported back.
"I have found the hangar and the materials."
A label popped up on the map, pointing to an empty patch of desert just off the airstrip. It said "hangar."
"There's nothing there, Brick," I protested.
"As Marty suspected, it is underground. The door is hidden under a thin layer of sand. The controls to open the door are not accessible via the base network."
"How do you know it's there?" Marty asked.
"Through the internal surveillance network. The quality is low, but the information is useful nonetheless."
Grainy video began to appear in a window on my Interface. I was looking at the inside of an office. Brick highlighted something just barely visible on the desk, a black plastic thing that looked like a hockey puck.
"This is the music streaming device that led us to this base."
The next video he showed us was of a massive, shadowy space. Lights hung overhead, illuminating long rows of shelves filled with boxes.
"This is the hangar. There are five cameras here. I will switch to the camera with the best view of the materials described in our recording."
The camera switched again as he said that, showing a dim corner. Stacked there somewhat haphazardly was a collection of scrap metal. Ragged-edged plates were piled up next to several blue plastic crates full of shards of metal. A few of the pieces were more complex—on
e of them a simple box the size of a radiator, the other a sealed tube. None of it looked remarkable in any way.
"That looks like a bunch of junk," Marty said.
"It does," I said. "But Union materials look pretty normal too. It's not like they glow or something. We won't know until we get close enough to let the Interface label it for us."
"Can we just send the drones to look?" Marty asked.
"Good idea. Can you get a drone in there, Brick?"
"Unknown. Without a map of the base underground there is no way to know where to start. This hangar may not even connect to the rest of the base."
"Alright. We don't have time to screw around with this anyway. Worst case we can go in hot and try not to hurt anybody."
"I don't know about that, Jake," Marty said. "There are a lot of soldiers here, and you know they're going to shoot to kill. We'll be totally exposed in the middle of that field. Even the towers will have line of sight on us."
"Yeah, I agree that will suck. It's not a big deal though. In the Assault Armor there's nothing they've got that could hurt me."
Marty turned in his chair to face me. "You're going to load all that crap by yourself while they shoot at you?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Listen, man, I'm not a big fan of the soldiers that man bases like these. They're traitors hiding the truth from the people, and that pisses me off. That doesn't mean they're incompetent, though. When they figure out that you're basically invincible, they're not going to just give up and watch you rob them. They're going to do something else to screw you up and capture you unless you start shooting back. And if you do, you're going to kill a lot of them, aren't you?"
Marty was a smart guy, and he was right. I hadn't been thinking things through. This wasn't a video game where the guards would be dumb AI. I wouldn't be able to load the giant pile of scrap very fast by myself. They'd have plenty of time to close in and ruin my day.
"Point taken, Marty. We'll have to come up with another plan."
"Actually, I think I've got an idea that will work," Marty said, a smile covering his face. "We need a distraction."
"Tell me."
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Distraction
"THAT'S CRAZY. THERE's no way that will work."
Marty was flying us back toward the outpost. I'd left the infiltration drone in place. Next time we went within range, Brick would be able to use it again. That would come in handy, no matter the plan we decided on.
"No way, man. It's genius. There's nothing that can compare to the power of the people."
"You're sounding crazy right now, Marty."
"No, seriously, let me try again. There was a really big movement, Storm Area 51. The idea was if a big enough group of people got together, they could just force their way into the base and see the aliens the government has there."
"Marty, my information shows that there are no aliens in Area 51. There is nothing of interest to us at all," Brick said.
"Sure, we know that now, but nobody else does."
"Wasn't Storm Area 51 a joke? It was a meme about using the Naruto run to move faster than their bullets," I said.
"Yeah, it was, but a lot of the True Believers took it up as a real cause. It would work, I think. Can you imagine the shitstorm if the soldiers in Area 51 mowed down hundreds of American citizens with machine guns?"
"It's still a huge gamble for anyone dumb enough to actually try storming the base. You've seen the firepower they have, Marty. You really want to put your friends on the receiving end of that?"
"Not just my friends. All of the tens of thousands of people that wanted to storm Area 51. The people that want the truth about aliens. They're all still out there. If we get them to storm the base, it will be all the distraction we need. We'll be able to come in, steal that junk, and fly off."
The Earth rolled by underneath us, the stunning view forgotten as we debated the idea. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten as the sunrise wasn't far off.
"Alright, even if we put aside the risk of the soldiers killing hundreds of people, we have no way to get people there. I don't think a meme will work again, especially when it's not actually Area 51 this time."
"That's the best part," Marty enthused. "I know exactly how to fix that. Give me some time and I'll prove it to you. Maybe you could try to figure out a way to make sure the soldiers don't kill everybody?"
"As long as you don't take too long, that's fine. I'll try to figure out a non-lethal way to deal with the soldiers."
"Thanks, Jake, it's going to be awesome, trust me."
I was a bit surprised to find that I did trust him.
An hour later we dropped down into the hangar. The camouflage was amazing—one moment it was a snowy clearing underneath us, the next it was an open hangar. The cabin nearby was as we had left it, although fresh snow had completely eliminated the tracks I'd made when we arrived.
The Redemption set down gently and the roof closed over us, concealing us from the satellites above I was sure were peering down.
Marty went through the gate to hang out with Metra and do whatever it was he had planned while I sat down in the control room, bringing up the design tools. I put the new Gazer design aside. We'd need it—and lots of other types of weapons—in the future, but we didn't need them today. Instead I began to comb through the Union component catalogs and racked my brain for some way to make a non-lethal weapon that wasn't just a high-tech taser.
A few hours of frustration later, Brick interrupted me.
"Excuse me, Jake, there is a gate connection request from Hephaseta."
"Really? Accept it then. I'll get down there."
I got up, grateful for the interruption. I'd been making nearly zero progress on non-lethal weaponry. Without normal humans to test it on, we stood basically no chance of getting something working. At least not like I wanted it to. We weren't going to start abducting people and doing experiments on them any time soon.
The gate room wasn't far, as the outpost wasn't large. I snatched up the GN-75 as I left the room and stuck it to my right side. Better to have a gun and not need it, etc.
Regar and Kiril stood on the other side of the gate, politely waiting for me to arrive. This was something I was only peripherally aware of—gate etiquette in the Union. It was a thing. Regar wasn't wearing his red armor, but some lighter, off-white set that looked like casual wear on his bulky frame. He had a small pistol at his hip. In Infested world terms it might be like he was in his pajamas.
I hadn't actually met Kiril, yet. Brick had shown me what Faella looked like, which made me very suspicious about Earth's past. Faella were exactly like our legends of elves, little people, fairies. The Fae. The name wasn't a coincidence, I was sure. I meant to question Kiril about it, since Brick had no information about Earth's distant past.
Kiril looked like one of those Fae from legends that would kill you and eat your liver. Not the happy, hippy-dippy kind of fairy. He was muscular, dressed in light blue armor. On his hips were a pair of sheathed daggers. He had a serious expression, long black hair framing a ruggedly handsome face with sparkling blue eyes. Sticking out from his back I could just barely see the tips of gossamer wings.
He looked me in the eyes, taking my measure as I took his. I had to look down, as he barely came up to my knees.
"Hey, guys," I said. "Come on through."
The two Seekers stepped through, Regar taking the lead. He grasped my forearm. "Well met, Jake. I felt it far past time to impose on you and introduce my friend and fellow Seeker, Kiril."
I had never had a serious, manly handshake with someone the size of a child. I didn't know the etiquette, so just winged it and took a knee. I did my best to treat it seriously, although it was tough doing a serious bro-shake with someone the size of an eight-year-old. We clasped forearms.
"I am pleased to finally meet you, Jake. Regar told me what you did for us. Unlike Regar, I am not one to offer a life debt. You have my deepest gratitude," Kiril said. His voic
e was disconcertingly deep and steady.
"Yeah, no worries. Metra would have killed me if I hadn't rescued you guys."
"Were we interrupting you, Jake?" Regar asked.
"No, not really. I was just banging my head against a problem. I'm trying to design an effective non-lethal weapon for use against baseline humans."
"Non-lethal?" Regar asked, his thick right eyebrow shooting up. "I have studied your world's culture since we met, Jake. Brick was kind enough to provide a media library. It seems on your world a lethal response is normal."
"Brick gave you the movie library? That's just the movies, and they are violent. We're not really like that. I mean sure, we do go to war against each other, and there are murders, but," I said, my voice trailing off as I realized what I was saying.
Regar and Kiril said nothing, standing politely and waiting for me to finish my thought.
"Okay, fine, yeah, we do murder each other too much. That seems like a really dumb thing, now, though. I don't want to murder any humans. The Ferals will happily kill us all, no need for us to help them. To be fair though, most of Earth still thinks we're totally alone in the universe."
"I am glad to hear you say this, Jake. What you have expressed is the first tenet of the Seekers. We work to preserve sentient life," Regar said. Kiril nodded in agreement.
"I thought you guys were all about seeking out knowledge of the apocalypse, the AIs, that sort of thing?"
"Yes. The question you must ask is, why do we seek that knowledge? To preserve sentient life."
"Yeah, that makes sense," I replied.
"You may be a natural Seeker, Jake," Kiril said.
"Thanks, I guess. I'm not looking to join any new clubs right at the moment, though."
Regar and Kiril both burst into laughter.
Regar stepped up and gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Fair enough, my friend. A Seeker in spirit is good enough for me."
"I consider myself an accomplished tinker. Perhaps I could help you with your problem? I know nothing about non-lethal weapons, but with another set of eyes we may find another way," Kiril said.