by H C Edwards
Walking back to the cockpit Trey peered out of the windshield but could see no defining features. It was like a black hole outside of the transport. Until dawn, which was still a few hours away, the world might as well have ceased to exist.
Trey sat down and yawned, kicking his feet up into the co-pilot’s seat and burrowing down into the cushions. He was tired of thinking, of questioning his existence or that of his fellow citizens. As a soldier he was never prone to such thoughts, but after all these years; his responsibilities regulated to that of a shepherd, he had grown contemplative and brooding.
There was something wrong with him that had never been wrong before…something broken…something changed…or maybe he was just finally ready for it all to be finally over.
It was the rays of dawn that woke him from his brief nap. He sat up rested and with peace of mind, the first time in a long time. Perhaps it was the important task at hand. He was finally doing something that had real meaning; he was once again of real use. Granted, being the head of the ASF had its challenges and was important work in a sense, but Trey knew of at least a dozen men under him who could have done the same job, and maybe even better.
The navigation system beeped and displayed his course heading, approximating his arrival time at about thirty minutes. Trey reached over and flicked a switch to brighten the console and checked the power reserves. He had expended roughly twenty-five percent which gave him plenty enough to make it back if the transport could withstand the radiation.
“One thing at a time,” he muttered to himself, running a quick diagnostics check on the electrical system.
After a minute he found that the filtration system was running hard. Dirt had probably collected in the outside vents and needed to be blown out. That was impossible at the moment and would have to wait until he touched down. If he kept it running he’d no doubt burn out the system and have to de-pressurize the cabin in order to keep breathing, which would expose him to the radiation long before he was prepared to do so. With a couple of switches he closed off the vents and cut the power to the system. The air would get a little thick and stale but would last long enough for him to land and take care of the problem. Trey then disengaged the autopilot and began his descent.
As the transport flew closer to the ground he could start to make out the remnants of civilization, decrepit buildings that leaned to the side, hundreds of rusted metallic lumps that might have once been cars dotting winding rivers of gravel that used to be highways and streets. These bits of the Old World were infrequent, for while this area used to be a bustling commerce and city a few hundred years ago, it had long ago been claimed by the new desert, with dunes as high as small mountains stretching across the landscape as far as the eye could see; another Great Divide, only more bleak and barren.
Strong winds from the coast started to buffet the transport. Trey increased his speed and raised the nose of the transport to cut down on drag. Another minute and he was able to spot the ocean, as well as the walls of the sanctuary.
The city had once been tall and proud; a jewel nestled against what was known as the East Coast. Back then it was just called Charlotte, a city that embraced art and museums, theater and music; even home to several professional sports teams that were popular enough to house some of the finest stadiums in the country.
All of that was gone now, having been scavenged to build the sanctuary so long ago. There were still the remnants of the city, hulking skeletal monoliths of steel and concrete that looked like old dinosaurs picked apart by carrion.
Because it was so close to the ocean, the winds had kept the desolate city free of the sands that had consumed the rest of the country and one could almost picture what the it resembled once upon a time.
The Wall of New Charlottesville was very different from Akropolis. It was built of steel, carbon fiber, and lead-lined, hobbled together using the airport as the structural foundation of the sanctuary and completely covered in a man-made dome that ran a massive amount of current through it to create the electromagnetic field that helped to deflect the radiation. Other means were used to repel the gamma rays that assaulted the city, much like the Wall in Akropolis.
Charlottesville’s power source came from the massive wind turbines that had been set in a line along the coast. They had learned to store the energy generated by the oceanic winds in massive batteries they kept underground. This often created an excess of power during hurricane season, which meant that their production facilities could operate 24/7, and with the materials they were able to scavenge from the once great city, the factories could churn out QUBITs and structural materials at a rate many times faster than Akropolis.
Trey had only seen the Wall of the coast city once, nearly a hundred years ago. It still remained impressive, roughly two thousand feet in height with support pylons on the inside and outside that prevented the collapse of sections when the floodwaters hit. In the hundreds of years since being built, Charlottesville had withstood the ravages of hurricanes of such strength as had never before been seen by man.
What Trey saw now was nothing short of a catastrophe of epic proportions. At the wide end of the Wall facing the ocean the dome had collapsed entirely, leaving a giant hole where the tsunami had hit, a gap of nearly a mile in circumference. In the entirety of the sanctuary it represented a small portion, but it was enough to spell doom for all the citizens within.
He tried to imagine what it would have felt like to look up at the dome and see the sky collapsing, girders and glass and metal like an avalanche screaming down, propelled by a mountain of water. That close to the Wall, the wave would have crushed the life out of humans and QUBITs alike in a matter of seconds. They would have been the lucky ones. The others in the sanctuary would have had time to realize the death that was rushing towards them, stampeding each other in an effort to reach some sort of safe haven, knowing that whatever they found wouldn’t be enough amidst the onslaught.
Trey pointed the nose of the transport towards the breach in the dome. When he reached the opening he hovered above it, studying the scene below. There was enough hazy daylight to show the peaks of buildings sitting above the floodwaters. After a minute of perusing the building tops he chose one that looked the most structurally sound, sitting at leave five floors above the now calm sea. He descended slowly and when the transport touched down on the roof he winced as a massive groan erupted beneath him. There was a moment where he almost pulled back on the cyclic stick and shot back up to look for another building that didn’t complain as much, but at the last moment he trusted to his instinct and let the transport settle.
Once down, he turned off the engine and left the cockpit, making sure the door was sealed behind him. Opening the bay door in the back would flood the inside with radiation; there was no help for that. He had to unload the housing unit for the quantum processor. When finished he could re-seal the bay and flush out the transport with the interior sprinklers. It wouldn’t get it all. He didn’t have enough water for that, but it’d get him home before his body started to fall apart, that is if the transport held up as well.
The ceiling lights flashed yellow as he hit the bay door. Working quickly he unclamped the straps that held the housing unit in place just as the door touched the roof of the building. He stood behind the housing unit and pressed a lever in the ground that unlocked the floor clamps, then used the remote attached to a thick cable in the ceiling to activate the conveyor belt that sled the housing unit out of the bay and down the ramp. At the very end it slid un-tethered the last few feet and rocked a bit but was stable.
Trey went to the wall of the transport and unlocked a rifle from the gun cage. There was also a EMP gun and a few automatic pistols for close range. He slung the rifle over his back and grabbed a pistol for his empty holster, then locked the cage back up. From a small safe in the floor that activated with his quantum signature, he removed an underwater oxygen filter and a forearm computer with interface tech that could immediately access certain syst
ems to open doors or override lockdowns. He strapped this on and touched the screen, powering it up. Immediately it displayed the rads present in the atmosphere. It wasn’t as bad as he had thought it would be. The sanctuary had not been exposed for that long but the radiation levels should have still been higher than what he was reading. Not that it mattered; less rads gave him a better chance of making it back home.
Trey tapped the screen a few times and activated the homing beacon for New Charlottesville’s quantum processor. He watched as the device scanned for nearly half a minute. He frowned when the screen showed ‘no results’.
Every sanctuary’s quantum cloud processor was housed in an impenetrable vault below ground. A nuclear blast at ground zero wouldn’t have breached it, let alone a tsunami. Either it had somehow been damaged in the accident, which was unlikely, or the signal was being blocked by some outside source. This was more probable. Someone could have transmitted a distress signal at a powerful frequency right as the tsunami was rushing through the city, hoping that a sanctuary somewhere would be able to pick it up and assist.
Trey re-calibrated the settings and scanned again. Sure enough, he picked up a signal from about two clicks into the heart of the city. It was a monster of a signal, clear as a bell, which meant it was probably transmitting from a rooftop or maybe even the dome. He had to shut it off before he could locate the quantum cloud processor.
Trey interfaced with the transport and shut the bay door by remote and locked it down. He could have flown to the signal but he didn’t want to press his luck. Right now the transport and housing unit were in a safe spot. Every minute counted. He needed to shut off that signal quickly and get to the processor. Even blowing out the air filtration system on the transport would have to wait.
Unlike Akropolis, which was spread out over a massive distance, New Charlottesville was compact and almost claustrophobic. Every city block had linked buildings that were only broken up by the cross streets. He could make his way in a straight line from rooftop to rooftop. Once at the end of a block he could swim for the next building. After he shut off the signal, the homing beacon for the processor should show up; then would come the hard part. If Charlottesville’s processor was anywhere near as secure as Akropolis it would be a very tough swim, not to mention all the automatically sealed doors in between. His oxygen filter, a simple open facemask, could operate for hours in dirty water before becoming too clogged but it didn’t protect from pressure. Who knew how far underground he would have to swim?
One problem at a time.
Sage advice.
Trey began to run along the rooftop. The building he had landed the transport on was one of a few with a flat surface area. The majority of the buildings along his sightline had been built for aesthetic purposes, meaning they were domed or slanted, which made the going slower than he liked.
When he came to the end of the building he launched himself into the air without a broken stride. It was an easy fifteen meter gap with a drop of about four meters. The QUBIT model he occupied now had been specifically modified for increased strength and agility befitting his station, as well as a durability that far surpassed any before it. While he’d no cause to use these abilities in many years, he did admire their usefulness and the feeling of ease with which he performed these minor feats of athleticism.
Two more buildings and he came to a cross-street. The gap was at least thirty meters, more than he could possibly jump, but that wasn’t what made him pause. In the calm water below him he finally saw the most devastating result of the tsunami; the citizens of New Charlottesville, floating belly-down, bloated, their gaseous bodies straining against the wet fabric stretched across their frames.
It had been a hundred years since he’d seen such death. That had been that singular battle at the Wall of Akropolis, an attack upon their sanctuary by warring nomads intent upon claiming their resources; horrific loss of life but necessary in the preservation of their sanctuary. What he witnessed now was sad and despondent, the result of which could have been averted had they even half a day of forewarning. In that time all of New Charlottesville might have been evacuated through the underground trade routes.
The loss of life was staggering. What he was seeing was a mere fraction. There were probably a couple hundred bodies floating within his eyesight; a far cry from the hundreds of thousands that had perished. He couldn’t imagine how many had drowned or been crushed within their own dwellings and workplaces.
It brought back the worst of memories for Trey. He had seen this before, not in this magnitude or setting, but it was familiar nonetheless.
For a moment he was back in that bunker in the heart of Manhattan. His eyes searched the floating bodies for something familiar, a small frame, a twist of curly hair, a patch of ebony skin amidst the backdrop of the blue-green waters.
Hannah…
Trey had to force his eyes away from the sight and focus on the building in front of him. He was still a click and a half away from the source of the signal and didn’t have the luxury of wasting time on memories. Harnessing his resolute sense of duty for the task at hand, he was able to block out the encroaching past and center on the present.
Without another thought he dove into the water and swam beneath the floating bodies, giving them as wide a berth as he could. Thankfully the water was murky and dirty, sparing him the specific expressions on their faces. He only caught peripheral glances, which he was able to ignore.
When he emerged on the opposite side of the street he grasped the lip of the building roof with an outstretched hand and pulled himself up. He looked back only once, spying what looked like a teddy bear bobbing slightly in the wake of his swim, and turned away abruptly.
Taking a steady breath, Trey began to trot across the building. The next time he came to a cross street he neither paused nor hesitated before diving in. He did notice, however, that on the other side there was nothing but the smooth surface of glass windows to greet him and at least three more floors to reach the roof. When he was only two thirds of the way across, he pulled out his pistol and put a few bullets into the panes while still underwater. The glass cracked and then caved in.
Trey let the sudden surge of water carry him forward and into the building. His momentum slowed almost immediately, as he surmised it would. The building, as probably all other buildings in the city, had been flooded to a certain degree. No structure could have stood stalwart against the tsunami.
Reaching up to his left shoulder, Trey flicked the flashlights strapped there. Immediately, two bright beams pierced the darkness and lit up the murky water with a brilliance that even surprised him. He made a straight beeline for the opposite end, avoiding cubicles and office rooms, pushing aside the occasional body. After a minute he found what he was looking for; the emergency staircase exit. He pushed open the door and swam up a level until he found the crest, using the handrail to haul himself out of the water.
Two more floors and he reached the roof exit. It was locked down with a screen key and no power. He withdrew a small circular device from his breast pocket and attached it to the screen, which powered up when he pushed a button. He then unlocked the door with a few quick taps on his forearm computer then retrieved the device from the screen. It was a handy gadget that would eventually get him into the bowels of the city to retrieve the quantum processor.
Once on the roof Trey pinged the signal again. It was emanating at the end of the block and probably one building to his right. He took his rifle from his back and powered it up, checking the ammo display and battery. Even though it had been decades since he’d had occasion to fire one, the memory was ingrained, and it had nothing to do with his synthetic body’s ability to store information.
Trouble was not something he expected, but if there were any survivors it would be near the source of the signal. People who had been through what happened here would be scared, on edge. In that state of mind they tended to lash out first. He had seen it many times during the last war, starving
families banding together to attack bases and encampments, not realizing that the same situation plagued the soldiers as it did them.
Trey doubted that there were any survivors left in New Charlottesville. What the tsunami didn’t kill, the radiation surely did. There were no safe bunkers in the city, just as there weren’t in Akropolis. The sanctuary was the safe bunker. Without it there was no safety. Even if some had been able to make it to a containment area they would have run out of air by now or worse yet, drowned when the filtration systems were flooded, as his own family had.
He took it slow, scanning the rooftops as he crossed. When he arrived at the end of the block to the next canal he turned right and put his back to the water. There were very few places to hide. The buildings, like his own city, were built with an eye for the aesthetics. The only outcroppings on the roofs that could hide a person were the entrances to the stairwells and the exhaust vents. It was obvious that there was no one up here.
Trey’s arm device was set to sound off when he arrived at the general vicinity of the signal. As soon as he crossed over to the next building there came a pinging sound from his forearm screen pad, and sure enough, about halfway across the roof there was something that looked like an uplink tower.
As he approached he saw that attached to the base of the antenna was a little black box with a couple of different cable wires wrapped around the antenna and descending down through the floor. It had a simple clasp holding it closed.
It was a curious thing. The tech that could send a signal like this one did not need to be shielded. Underwater or not it would work just as well.
Setting his rifle to the side Trey reached down to flip open the lid. Even as his hand reached for the clasp he realized that it seemed a little too obvious, but it had been so long since deception had been a part of life for him, long enough that he only felt a twinge of unease. When his hand touched the metal, he realized his mistake.