The Convoy

by Sebastien Acacia

The old woman looked at her for a moment, expecting an answer.

  “Hmm! Oh, yes! ...And who will overcome darkness through science,” Matilda answered, intimidated.

  She finally turned toward Trancavel.

  “What’s this?” She asked him, showing the small artefact in the palm of her hand.

  “A pill to take if you end up being caught by the militia.”

  Matilda looked at him, wary. Even if she had understood it was a serious act, she didn’t really understand how it could really be useful. She climbed into the MRU. Trancavel exchanged the age-old Kathar adage in a low voice with the old woman before climbing in the aircraft. The die was cast. The elevator started to rise. The MRU doors hermetically closed up. Each member of the military expedition was firmly fastened on their seat, ready for the 3G acceleration. Ready for a 30 minutes flight toward the Alps, nearby the big Geneva Lake, in this country once called Switzerland.

  Diversion

  Worried, Jourdain was constantly looking at the atomic pile energy gauge. To escape from the attention of the Milicia Christi’s drones, they had to fly at an altitude higher than 40,000 feet. In this way, the radars couldn’t detect them. But the temperature would drop to minus 70 Fahrenheit. The aircraft computer was calculating in real time the energy needed to reach Ermy’s drop point, then to reach the tunnel of the freight train on the Atlantic Coast. A buffer was showing the energy consumption, another one the remaining energy and a third one the repartition of the energy consumption per devices. The engine was taking 86%, followed by the life-support systems such as the cabin heating system, the pressure management system and the gas circulation, representing together 12%. The two remaining percent were dedicated to the operation of the aircraft electronic components. And finally, the chart worrying Jourdain the most, a curve simulating the engine autonomy according to the supply of the specific auxiliary systems.

  “We will have a problem,” he told Trancavel who was with him in the co-pilot seat.

  “I’ve seen,” he stoically answered.

  “In your opinion, what should we do?” Jourdain asked him, pointing at the curve.

  It was showing that if the cabin life support systems kept running, they wouldn’t be able to reach the Atlantic Coast.. In other words, either way they had to go to a lower altitude where the temperature would be appropriate for the crew, risking to reveal their presence to the drones, or they could switch off the heating system, quickly dropping the temperature below zero, but remaining undetectable. Nevertheless, their Kevlar jumpsuit had no thermal protection for such temperature.

  “Can we rely on the reactor residual heat to compensate a bit?” Trancavel asked him.

  “Honestly? I have never tried. But if we keep going like this, we will know very soon.”

  Trancavel turned back toward the crew who seems to be having very pleasant discussions according to their smiling faces.

  “Please, pay attention for a bit!” He yelled.

  All of them immediately listened to him. He added.

  “We don’t have any other choice - if we don’t cut the heating system, we won’t reach our destination. Try to warm up by any possible means. If needed, you can use your survival blanket. Understood?”

  “Yes, chief,” they all answered in unison, except Matilda.

  She wasn’t happy about this news. Her organism was used to the mild weather of the sacred lands of Africa. She was already shivering from the cold in Niaux Cave, despite its temperature being regulated at fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Gaucelin gave her a thin blanket with copper and pink metallic reflections.

  “Here, kid. Cover yourself with this.”

  “How can a simple sheet of aluminium possibly keep me warm?” She answered him, surprised.

  “Try, you’ll see,” Blanche interrupted her.

  Indeed, the temperature suddenly dropped into the cabin. Jourdain seemed to be relieved by the MRU autonomy curve which went back to green. They might even get a good margin once there. Matilda wrapped the cover around her. Apparently, her mission fellows didn’t have such a need. She was already shaking.

  “Ermy! You jump in five minutes,” Trancavel informed him from the cockpit.

  Ermengarde was the only one to have a heatable jumpsuit and to be isolated from the cold. The latest generation of wingsuit. He stood up, equipped his parachute, put on his HUD helmet, his gloves and hooked the bag filled with explosives on his chest. Matilda was staring at him, with admiration. Her new friend, her dear Ermy, was going to jump into the void. Jourdain would go down to 32,000 feet for one or two minutes, so the brave soldier would have enough time to jump, then he would come back to the safe altitude before going to the South of France. Matilda suddenly realised she might never see him again. Forgetting her resent due to the alcohol misuse, she grabbed his hand, stared at him and whispered.

  “Good luck! We’re coming to get you back.”

  “I hope so,” he answered her, heavy hearted.

  Aymeric who was full of affection for the young fiery man, manly told him, “we’re all with you!” But still showing some emotions. The looks of his other fellows were enough to make him understand.

  “Door opening in four... Three... Two... One..., now!” Trancavel yelled.

  Ermy looked one last time at Matilda, lowered his helmet visor and disappeared into the clouds.

  *

  * *

  At such a speed, the cold definitely froze every muscle, every inch of the body. It wasn’t Ermengarde’s first jump, but it was his highest. The displaying inside his HUD helmet wasn’t working properly. The information he was reading took time to appear and to refresh. A red target was showing him where he was supposed to land. A blue gauge, his altitude. Finally, a speedometer was indicating just 120 miles per hours, which would be his cruising speed until the moment he would open his parachute. The information from the satellite wasn’t indicating any drone in the surroundings, so he was deeply relieved. The temperature was slowly rising, bringing back a few muscular sensations into his body. The cloud density was such he couldn’t see the ground getting nearer and had to fully trust his altimeter. He had planned to open his parachute once he would be 3,200 feet high. When he got out of the clouds, it appeared his HUD was providing him with wrong information. The probe covered with ice, was displaying 7,500 feet but he was just 2,900 feet over the ground. He firmly pushed a button located right under his navel and widely opened his arms and his legs to unfold the wingsuit and gain some precious time to analyse the situation. The target showing the landing area was also telling him crap. Ermengarde looked around, looking for the viaduct. Then, he noticed an imposing structure, several miles long, connecting two cliffs over a lake.

  Oh, no! I’m too far!

  At 2,000 feet high, there is no time to weigh the pro and cons, it’s only time for decision. He did so.

  Screw the parachute!

  Carried by his wingsuit, Ermengarde moved toward the viaduct, crossing a few clouds and facing several minor atmospheric disturbances. He had to steady his fall a few times to avoid spinning. He rushed on the side of the mountain toward the tubular bridge, at 75 miles per hour, almost skimming the top of a few majestic thorny trees. Skilfully rolling on the side, he avoided a rocky peak dangerously standing on his trajectory. Even if he ordinarily executed this kind of move very easily, with an overfilled bag on the chest, it was so dangerous that he dropped down two dozen yards at once, almost crashing on some deciduous trees. In a movement of despair, he pulled on the opening cable of the parachute to avoid the worse. When the parachute sail finally got opened, his body was violently pulled backward, saving him from a painful impact on the top of a tree strong enough so it wouldn’t be shaken by the collision. Downstream, the lake seemed deep enough to absorb an almost controlled fall. The fabric of the huge sail got caught on some branches bigger than the other, but the brave Kathar had the reflex to instantly unleash his parachute. He finally felt on his back, 30 feet below, in a water as cold as a Gentian cockt
ail. Slightly groggy, Ermengarde didn’t react immediately. His wingsuit was restricting his moves and dragged him toward the bottom. He removed his helmet, already filled with water, and, pressing on an emergency button, retracted the wings located on the arms and also between his legs. After a few strokes, he reached the lake surface and took a deep breath. It didn’t take him long to reach the shore. Sitting on a bed of pebbles, blackened by years of intense radioactivity, he caught his breath, laid his bag filled with explosives next to him, and, straightening back, peacefully admired the huge concrete structure through which the tube was crossing the whole lake.

  Wouah! Such a pity to have to destroy such an architectural masterpiece.

  He opened his bag to get a motion detector, a satellite communication equipment and a semi-automatic pistol with two mags he quickly put in his holder.

  “Blue falcon to fierce fox, do you hear me? I repeat, blue falcon to fierce fox, do you hear me?”

  “Trancavel here! What’s this nonsense?”

  “Sorry, chief, it was a reference to faster than lightning the movie of...”

  “All right, keep your reference for yourself. Are you in position and operational?”

  “Hmm!” Of course, chief!”

  “So, that’s all I care about. You have 45 minutes to place the explosives. I wait for your green light. Trancavel, over.”

  The firery-haired man swallowed his pride.

  “It was fun blue falcon to fierce fox,” he mumbled to himself, disappointed his small joke didn’t catch a better audience.

  He put the explosive bag on his back and started to move on the long beach of black pebbles, being careful to stick to the tree line to hide his moves. Holding the radar, he regularly turned back to look for any suspicious move.

  If they had seen me, they would have stopped me already!

  A dozen minutes later, the first of the four viaduct pillars was standing in front him, majestic and invincible. The cliff was overhanging over the canyon at an altitude of approximately 1,000 feet. Between the pillars, just a few steps away, the river feeding the lake was heckling some huge rocks polished by the combined action of time and water. Ermy carefully analysed the huge structure, trying to find the best position to place the explosives. With his high definition binocular, he glanced at the tube itself.

  Oh! That’s not possible!

  It was strengthened with some long metallic bearing bars, quite sturdy. Nothing was certifying that bringing down one of the viaduct pillars would have a direct impact on the tube. It was lying on imposing iron beams from one pylon to the other and probably all the way to the cliff.

  This was well designed.

  Tssss... Tssss...

  “Ermy to Trancavel, do you hear me?”

  Tssss... Tssss...

  “Already?” Trancavel asked surprised.

  “Not really. We have a problem. The pillars aren’t bearing pillars and I don’t have enough explosives to bring them all down...”

  “Find a solution, blue falcon, and faster than lightning! Trancavel, over,” he suddenly cut him.

  Ermy remained dumbstruck, his finger still on the intercom.

  “Haha! So funny! Find a solution, find a solution, he is funny!” He complained, alone, by himself.

  He looked toward the top of the pillar, mumbling a few words of annoyance.

  “Faster than lightning, he is funny... faster than lightning... Pfff!”

  He stepped back a little more and focused his attention on the cliff.

  “But! Right that’s it! Faster than lightning! Why I haven’t thought about it earlier! Hahaha!”

  Ermengarde was a fan of old movies. He was fascinated by movies made before the Godless Decade. Mainly by the new outbreak of spaghetti westerns with its completely virtual actors. Some were playing during more than a century, others were put aside to give way to even more realistic and embodied idols. In fact, many people didn’t understand they didn’t really exist, that they weren’t flesh and bone actors. The last real actors, the Flesh and bones as they were called in the cinema industry, were outdated. Faster than lightning was one of his favourite movies, in particular the scene where the heroes, Tom and Jack, two cowboys who always quickly got into fights, were running to stop a steam train filled with explosives and going at high speed toward a friendly military fort. While the train was getting in the canyon, the two fellows got the idea to put some dynamites along the cliff to cause a rock slide strong enough to stop the train.

  Ermy had the solution. Blowing up the cliff over the viaduct to reach the tube directly, hoping to sweep away the bearing metallic structures.

  “You have 30 minutes to go up, place your explosives, run away and blow up everything, my dear Ermy! You can do it! You can do it! Believe it! He loudly motivated himself.

  He quickly looked around and directly understood he would never have enough time to find a bypassing pathway toward the top of the cliff in such a short time.

  “Find a solution as he told you!” He motivated himself again, getting closer to the rock wall.

  So, let’s do this!

  He tightened his backpack, secured his instruments on his fighting harness, grabbed a small rock in his right hand and put his left foot inside a horizontal crack at knee level. It was time for a crazy climbing without any rope or safety net. Thanks to his skid resistant gloves and shoes, he didn’t need to use any magnesia. Ermengarde didn’t like being in such a vulnerable situation. In comparison with the light grey calcite of the cliff, his black jumpsuit was making him feel as vulnerable as a black fly lying on a whipped cream pie. If a drone was coming by, he would have no chance to survive. Approximately a hundred yards over the ground, he paused on a rocky ledge to glance at his motion detector.

  Until now, everything is all right!

  The noise of the rapids was now just an insignificant background noise. The wall wasn’t completely vertical any more. One or two degrees didn’t seem very impressible, but for a climber, it was a huge relief. Not to the point to lose focus, but enough to give a break to the finger and forearm muscles. Ermy was able to climb the next hundred yards much easier. So far, despite a few holds which couldn’t withstand the pressure and despite a few risky steps fast forgotten, the climb was going as planned. He was still glancing sometimes below or behind him. The monolithic and enormous viaduct pillar was reminding him how bold his destruction mission was. Pure craziness, he was mentally repeating. Going forward, he saw a cavity, a kind of cave with too consistent edges to let one think it was a natural formation. It was approximately three dozen yards below the tube exit.

  Probably a tunnel used during the construction.

  While he was just a few yards from the cavity entrance, his motion detector started beeping. Ermy instantly froze. His position was partially covered by the huge pylon. He glanced at the cave entrance. The edge was within his range. As his muscles were too tired to remain immobile and to wait for the beep to stop, he undertook a quick and powerful move to lift himself on the edge and crawl inside, safe. He overly exhaled, finally enjoying not feeling any muscular tensions in his legs, calves, fingers, shoulders and neck. He removed his detector which beep was echoing in the cave. He muted it. Strangely, everything stopped. There wasn’t any visual information any more.

  Probably a bird...

  He looked at his watch.

  10 minutes! No time to waste.

  Curious, he looked a bit at the weird cavity in which he was. It was the size of a big man. He could stand and walk inside, but jumping would just give him a bump on the top of his head. The most troubling was he couldn’t see the bottom. Some half-buried rails in the ground were testifying of the artificial nature of the excavation. It was probably a conduit for materials and drilling equipment needed for the viaduct construction.

  The perfect place to put my bombs.

  And for sure. The explosives he carried, were very powerful. By focusing the explosion energy a bit deeper in the cavity, he could even blow up a whole
part of the cliff below, sweeping away the pillar and a good part of the railway tube. The perfect place to make the most damages. He got on with his task. In only a few minutes, the plastic explosives were all placed. Twenty pounds of C-4 inserted in the rock wall fissures in the artificial cavity. Ten detonators, all radio controlled. Ermengarde moved closer to the edge to make sure the radio signal was good. The wind was starting to blow on the cliff side. Staring at the pillar, like it was a person sentence to death, he started the communication.

  “Ermengarde here! The explosives are placed, I repeat, the explosives are placed. Confirm you receive me. Over.”

  A few seconds later, Trancavel, apparently happy, answered him.

  “You see, when you want! We’re arriving in 15 minutes. Wait for our signal to blow up everything. Trancavel, over.”

  When Ermy interrupted the communication, his motion detector started beeping again. This time, without waiting a second, he grabbed the device to find the problem origin. A red dot was showing the presence of an unidentified entity moving toward him much faster than usual. Whatever this creature was, it was closing on him from the inside of the cavity.

  “Damn!” This isn’t a bird!

  First, he thought about a bear seeking refuge in the cavity. But which bear could reach a speed of 50 miles per hour? Nevertheless, it was indeed the speed displayed by the detector. He took his gun instead of the device and took a few steps inside to avoid an unfortunate fall. Then, he heard a light repetitive metallic noise such as a gallop. Ermy raised his weapon in front of him, ready for any possibility. The mechanical rattle suddenly stopped while the thing was just a few dozen yards away from the young Kathar warrior. Too dark to see properly, Ermy switched on the flash light embedded in his weapon and move closer, redoubling of prudence. A light hiss barely noticeable was signalling the undeniable presence of a mechanic entity lying in the darkness, motionless. Suddenly all his muscles froze. In the light beam, barely 20 steps in front of him, a black and grey robot dog was ready to jump. The numerous bullets holes on its shell were a proof of the numerous fights it might have taken part in since its activation. This robotic creature must have been around for a very long time. Its front legs spread, its chest at ground level, its bottom straightened, it had a gun barrel instead of a muzzle. Right above, two small eyes were chaotically sparkling. A long tail ending up with a blade the size of an arm was slowly swinging, threatening.