by B. V. Larson
The day started in that slow, lazy fashion that so many hot days begin in the tropics. But at about ten a. m. that all changed.
It was Saturday, and out over the ocean to the east a battle began. It was so high up and so huge in scope, spanning many miles of land, sea, air and space that it was visible from his tiny island. Although he didn’t know it then, the final conflict for Andros Island between Star Force and the Macros had begun, and it would later come to be called the Saturday Assault.
High atmospheric bursts of fusion weapons were visible for a tremendous distance. In the past, when the militaries of Earth had seen fit to test such things, they’d done so far out at sea or in the depths of uninhabited deserts. Many people had seen the fission bombs go off in the early days of testing, but relatively few had witnessed H-bombs, fusion weapons thousands of times as powerful as the original bombs dropped on Japan to end World War Two.
Now, for a second time in a few days, Bjorn was treated to a display of modern weaponry being released by two combatants with no restrictions. As the day wore on, what had been a few sparks and thunder-like sounds out over the ocean to the east had drifted closer and become more dramatic.
Missiles sailed overhead from land-based locations in the U. S. They roared toward Andros and detonated in airbursts that made Bjorn lift his hands to cover his eyes. The fighting went on for long hours. Before it was over, Bjorn saw what could only be strikes to the north—they had to be hitting the mainland. He stared that way long after the flashes had dimmed from the initial white glare to a glowing, rising, lurid red.
So huge! Like new suns lit upon the surface of the Earth. The strikes must be massive, at least twenty megatons—or maybe a hundred. He couldn’t tell, but they lingered, sending fallout upward in a rising cloud. Up and up, columns of smoke and fire rose into the sky and set the clouds alight. The machines must have wiped out Florida’s greatest urban center, and who knew what else. Miami had to be gone.
Bjorn scrambled to his shelter, which now seemed pitiful. It wasn’t deep enough, and it wasn’t even airtight. Still, he did what he could. He drove new tunnels and shored up spots with sticks of driftwood. All the while he worked, he knew there was little point to it. If a warhead that powerful went off on top of Key West he’d be vaporized in an mercifully short instant, whether he was sitting in his pathetically shallow tunnels or not.
The battle quieted during the night, and he wondered who had won. He supposed if he saw a hundred machines marching up out of the sea around him in the morning he’d figure it out fast enough.
At dawn on the following day, he awakened again. There was a burning smell in the air, like that of a forest fire. He couldn’t see flame, but maybe it was just ash and smoke from the distant destruction. The winds were blowing from the northeast.
“I bet it’s hard to sleep much past dawn,” said someone nearby. There was a southern twang to the man’s voice.
Bjorn vaulted to his feet. He’d been lounging one second, wondering what he was going to eat for breakfast, and the next he was standing in a crouch. His hands both operated properly now, and his pistol was in his right hand as if having appeared there by magic. His fingers still tingled and itched, but they operated well enough.
“When I used to go camping as a kid,” the stranger continued conversationally, “and during patrols in the bush, we never slept after the sun came up.”
A man stood nearby on the beach, on the eastern side of Bjorn’s tiny island. With the dawning sun at his back, Bjorn couldn’t make out the face. He couldn’t see how the man had gotten here, either.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“You’re a hard man to find, did you know that? And even harder to kill, apparently. I’m impressed. Very impressed.”
Bjorn stepped to his right, walking sideways. He never took his eyes off the intruder. Every muscle was tense, every cord stood out on his bare arms and back.
He could see the invader better now as the sun was no longer at his back. He was wearing military fatigues, and there were stars on his collar—a general’s stars.
“My, my,” said the general. “You move like some kind of werewolf, boy. Did you know that? Have you gone feral on us, hiding out here on this lump of dirt?”
“Answer my question or I’ll kill you where you stand,” Bjorn said. “Who are you?”
“I’m known as General Kerr. Maybe you’ve heard of me. I’ve been wrestling with Star Force and these effing aliens since the get-go.”
Bjorn peered at him. As a rule, he made an effort not to keep up with current events. But the name did ring a bell. “You work with Riggs, right?” he asked the stranger. “You’re some kind of government suit in a man’s uniform.”
“Heh,” said Kerr, nodding. “That sounds about right. Now, let’s talk about you, shall we? You’re Bjorn Gaines, a half-black deserter who’s gone into business for himself. A freelance contractor who the spook-patrol up in Washington likes to call up when someone needs to be removed from the landscape. A hitman, in other words. Do I have the right man?”
“I just want to be left alone,” Bjorn said. “Why can’t you people get that through your heads?”
Kerr snorted with amusement. He pointed over his shoulder to the north with a lazy finger. “Did you check out the lightshow yesterday? Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Nuclear strikes. A lot of them. Mostly airbursts, from the look of it.”
“Yeah, mostly. But not all. Miami is gone. Three million people and counting. The machines snuck a few in there when they realized they weren’t going to get to land their warheads on Andros Island, see? They’re smart that way. The missiles, I mean. They’re each flown by an angry robot, and if it’s clear they can’t take out their original target, they look for another one to suicide on. Any fat target of opportunity will do.”
Bjorn thought about it. He hadn’t known that. But after what he’d seen firsthand when dealing with the Macro on his island, he knew the machines were smart and very willing to sacrifice themselves to get a job done.
“That’s great,” he told the intruder. “I’m so glad you could come by and give me a personal update, General. But now, I’m afraid this interview is at an end.”
He turned away from Kerr and walked to the water’s edge.
“Think it’s going to be that easy, do you?” Kerr asked from behind him. “You can’t leave this island—not now. See that rock about six hundred yards off to your right? And the smaller one—just a pile of sand and bird crap, really—off to your left? I’ve got sharpshooters out there. They have their weapons trained on your skull, and these boys don’t miss. Trust me on that point.”
“I do,” said Bjorn. His eyes swept to both the small landmasses in the distance. Kerr could be telling the truth. There could very well be snipers out there. That would explain the brass balls he had to come and talk to a killer alone and personally.
Bjorn turned around slowly to face the general. “What do you want?”
“Ah,” chuckled Kerr. “Finally, at long last, the question that I want to hear! I want you to get involved, boy. That’s all! I want you to serve your government for a change, not just the highest bidder.”
“You want me to do a hit?”
“Exactly.”
“Who?”
Kerr’s face darkened with sudden feeling. He pointed out to the north again. “I want you to destroy the cocksucker who did that,” he said.
Bjorn looked confused. “You want me to kill Macros?”
“No, I’m talking about a certain Star Force commander.”
“Kyle Riggs?”
Kerr’s face shifted again, from dark rage to an easy smile. “That’s right.”
Bjorn nodded in sudden understanding. “That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it? Since the interview in D. C. You want Riggs dead.”
“Lots of people do. I took my number a long time ago, and now it’s my turn to take a shot at him. And you’re the weapon I’ve chosen
for the job. You’re the best.”
Bjorn shook his head. “I don’t know about that. There’s always someone better.”
“Nope. There’s no one better,” Kerr ticked off a series of facts on his fingers: “You’re nanotized, Delta-trained, non-Star Force, an accomplished independent assassin, and you have no easily located records… In short, you’re one of a kind on this planet, Gaines. What do you say?”
Bjorn stared at the general for several long seconds. “I think you’re right, General. I think I should get back into the game.”
“Excellent! Let me call in my transport. We’ll have you back in Washington in two hours.”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not going to work with you.”
Kerr looked pissed for a moment, then he sucked in a breath through his nostrils and nodded. “All right. I respect a man who sticks to his principles. But, it is a pity.”
The older man reached for something on his belt, and for once Bjorn didn’t move fast enough. He was too surprised and the general seemed to be moving very nonchalantly. With almost a negligent, lazy motion, he lifted a grenade in his hand.
Before Bjorn could grab Kerr’s wrist, the man had pulled out the pin.
-10-
Bjorn was fast. All nanotized men were, but he’d been fast before he’d been injected with tiny robots. Now, he was a shocking blur when he moved.
He knew he didn’t have much time. He wasn’t sure if Kerr was insane and suicidal, or if the grenade was just a feint, or maybe even a signal for the snipers to begin shooting. He had a plan by this time, however, and he put it into motion.
First, he swatted the grenade from the man’s hand. There was a crackling sound of bones snapping. He ignored this and the howl that came out of the general a split second later.
Gathering himself, he sprang into the water. Gripped in both his hands, held tightly by his fatigues, was General Kerr. He’d leapt while holding onto the man, and now they were both flying toward the water together.
Something snapped nearby, causing a white spot to appear on a tree trunk. Well, thought Bjorn, at least I know the snipers are real.
The two men landed what seemed like an eternity later in the water. Bjorn made no effort to come down feet first. He fell on his right shoulder, which plunged into the water. General Kerr was pulled down after him.
The old man was game, Bjorn had to say that for him. Before they’d splashed into the sea together, he’d managed to get a knife out. Bjorn was forced to squeeze his wrist until he dropped it in the salt water.
They sank together into the water, with Kerr on top and Bjorn below. Bjorn pulled the older man down with his greater weight. Nanotized people were denser than normal humans. They were excellent swimmers, but they didn’t float in water. It had something to do with having several pounds of metal in your body.
A muffled popping sound told Bjorn the grenade had gone off back on the surface. Somewhere on his abused island there was a new scorch mark.
The general’s eyes were wide in shock and bubbles streamed from his mouth. He kneed Bjorn, who had both his wrists clamped, but Bjorn didn’t care. His balls were almost as tough as the rest of him, courtesy of the nanites.
They sank to the sandy bottom. Bjorn knew that if he surfaced, the snipers would pop his head like a melon.
Kerr’s struggles grew weaker. Bjorn knew he was drowning. Kerr hadn’t had a chance to take a deep breath before this unexpected dive.
Bjorn watched him for several more seconds before finally letting him go. In his heart, he wanted to kill this man. But he didn’t feel he had that option. The reason was simple: if he killed Kerr, he’d never be able to work in the U.S. again, and their intel people would put him on every burn list they could. Messing with Kerr was one thing, killing him was another, even if the cocky old bastard richly deserved it.
Kerr kicked away from him and staggered out of sea back onto the beach. Bjorn watched his legs churn in the water. The general wasn’t fleeing in fear. There seemed not to be any urgency in his movements, just pain.
After a few steps, Kerr stopped and turned around. He stood there in about a foot of seawater, with his dark bootlaces floating in the waves. Bjorn stayed underwater to avoid the snipers. He watched, but the general just stood there on the shoreline, waiting.
Bjorn became curious. He found a spot between several rocks and stuck his head up between them. He made sure the snipers didn’t have a shot.
“Why don’t you just fuck off?” he shouted at Kerr. “I think you must realize by now there’s no way I’m going to do what you want.”
Kerr was holding his wrist. Some of his fingers didn’t look right. His face was full of pain, but there was plenty of determination there, too.
“Just tell me why you won’t do it? Riggs has screwed up again and again. He’s a tinplated dictator with delusions of grandeur. Millions just died yesterday due to his decisions. Why won’t you help out your planet—your species?”
Bjorn saw a plume of green smoke rising from the island behind Kerr. He realized what the grenade was that Kerr had deployed. It was a smoker.
“That was the signal to take me out, wasn’t it?” Bjorn asked. “If I won’t serve you, I have to die, is that it?”
“That’s about the size of it, chief. We’ve been watching you since you killed that Macro with your bare hands. I could have ordered you shot at any time.”
“You think that kind of argument is going to get me to serve you?”
“You can still come in,” Kerr said. “I’ll call all this off right now. All you have to do is say yes. There’s no other way off this island for you, not in a scenario where you’re still breathing. And there’s not going to be anywhere else for you to run on this world, either. Your days of disappearing on us are over, because even if you do manage it, we’ll be waiting when you show your nose again. My boys are everywhere. One of them will be waiting while you buy a glace in Italy, or bask on the beach in Manila.”
Bjorn swallowed. One of his favorite spots on Earth was indeed the beaches of the Philippines. He hesitated a second, then nodded.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that. Your powers of persuasion are admirable.”
Kerr chuckled and whooped. “Boy, you did give me a scare!” he shouted, shaking his head and laughing aloud. “I thought you’d gone right over the cliff. They warned me about you, Gaines.”
“Who did?”
“The pysch boys. They said you were unstable.”
“Did they?”
“Yeah, but I told them that crazy came with the territory. There’s never been a pro hitman with a head full of normal brains in the history of man. Anyway, I’m glad you came to your senses.”
“How are we going to do this?” Bjorn asked.
“What? Oh, you mean the snipers. Hold on.”
Kerr produced a second smoker, and this one poured out red vapor moments later.
“Green for kill, red for stand down?”
“More like green for go, red for stop.”
“Got it.”
Bjorn carefully crawled up onto the land again. No more bullets came. He eyed the sea and the neighboring islands critically.
“My bird is on the way,” Kerr told him. “We’ve got less than five minutes.”
“I don’t hear it.”
“Of course not. How do you think I got to your island without you knowing I was coming?”
Bjorn had been close enough to stealth helicopters in the past to know what they sounded like. They weren’t really silent. He knew Star Force had control over gravity somehow and had vehicles that could fly silently. It was alien technology that he was all too familiar with. When the Nano ships had come from the stars on that fateful night and picked him up out of bed, they hadn’t made a sound. Now he knew that the pentagon had similar tech.
“Mind if I get my things?” he asked.
�
��You’ve got things?”
“Just one bag.”
“All right. But don’t pull any more bullshit. There are guns on you. Even if you go to the far side of this dirtball and jump in, they’re waiting for you on the mainland too.”
“No bullshit.”
Bjorn walked to his shelter. It was really more of a ditch than anything else. He didn’t pick up any luggage, or weapons. Instead, he slithered down into the hole he’d dug and disappeared.
-11-
When the Macro had trapped the corporal down here, Bjorn had seen his makeshift bunker had a critical flaw: there was only one way in or out. He’d decided then to add a new exit. He’d dug it at night, in the depths of this muddy little hole.
As a kid he’d learned that foxes always dug two exits from their holes. The animals knew that a hole with only one way out was as much of a trap as it was a safe haven. Understanding the wisdom of this instinct, Bjorn had scratched twenty feet of earth and sand out of the way until he met with seawater.
Since he didn’t have any timber to keep the hole from filling back in, he was having a hard time making use of the escape tunnel now. He scratched at the wet sand, swimming in it like a mole. It was only his hard, claw-like hands, great strength, and the ability to hold his breath for prolonged periods that allowed him to slip away into the sea.
When he did reach open water, his lungs had already begun to burn. Far above him, he could see a shadow moving over the water. That had to be the ghostly airship, hunting for him. It was just as silent as Kerr said it was. When it passed directly overhead, he could see it press at the water, dishing it away. But it wasn’t causing much turbulence. It reminded him of the Nano ship that had once caught him and kept him trapped inside. Those ships used gravity repellors, alien systems that pushed away gravitational forces the way the opposite poles of two magnets repelled one another. To him, this technology seemed similar.
