by Tara Basi
After a few minutes Nurse Trinity returned. “Oh my god, someone’s stolen the naughty step. Now there’s a surprise.”
Mina looked as angry as Jugger. “Shut up Trinity, we get it. How’d you come up with those monsters? The mosquitoes are adapted from what we saw in the Yard. That makes sense. Those things don’t.”
Trinity wasn’t backing down. “Tippese told us they were making weapons in the Iowa Block.”
Neither was Mina. “Yeah, but maybe they’re nothing like those hideous contraptions.”
“They could be worse.”
“Jesus Trinity, how could they be worse?”
“That’s the good news.”
Mina looked like she might explode. Battery Boy decided to intervene. “Trinity, tell us everything.”
“There’s nothing worse. Look. Me and my buddy Reference, we talk. We’re kind of amigos. Well, I think so. Reference is the silent type so it’s hard to tell sometimes.”
Jugger lost patience, “Skip the jokes, they’re not funny. Spit it out.”
“The designs from Reference. It’s what they were making in the Iowa Block. It’s the mosquitoes that are fake, the spiders are real.”
Tress bit her knuckles to stifle a scream. Mina didn’t say anything. The two women left.
Stuff just stared straight ahead, “They’re real?”
Battery Boy felt sick to his stomach. He thought the Blocks couldn’t be doing anything worse than the Yard, slapping Bands on kids. He was wrong.
Jugger wasn’t convinced. “Why should we trust Reference? Why’s it even talking to you?”
“The line to Block Seven is always open. Tippese is never there. Reference is always there. I’ve found it will only respond to certain questions. Mainly about… product.”
Battery Boy wondered if the machine had gone a little crazy. “Why would it tell you anything?”
“With some analysis and a little trial and error, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m accessing a simple sales interface. A small part of Reference is designed to market… product.”
Even Jugger was unsettled by Trinity’s revelation. He left. Battery Boy realised he didn’t want to know any more. He’d had enough horror for one day. Battery Boy and Stuff followed Jugger out of the room.
The simulations never got any easier to stomach. Gradually, Battery Boy’s revulsion at what had been done to the people in the Iowa Block faded and his old desire to smash the Blocks resurfaced, stronger than ever. The training was working. They were surviving for longer against ever larger numbers of foes and getting progressively better at handling their Crushers under fire. Stuff had just about stopped shooting himself or one of the others. No one had any real idea what the Iowa Block might actually throw at them during the attack. Trinity’s simulation was their best guess; given everything they knew.
The training in the military battle robots had gone on for weeks, both out in the Park, and in the virtual trainers. Even so, not once had anyone managed to get underneath the Block. Partly because Trinity just kept making it more difficult. It had stopped allowing them to coordinate their attack via radio a while back. Their protests were only half-hearted. They knew radios wouldn’t work within a hundred kilometres of the Block.
At one of their regular gatherings Battery Boy decided to say what had been on his mind for a few days. “Enough simulation and Park runs. We’ve got to go and test the Iowa Block defences for real.”
“He’s right, we’re not going to get any better with the Crushers, and some of us are only getting worse,” Jugger said, looking pointedly at Stuff.
“I shot you once. Okay, twice. It was only a simulation,” Stuff replied, looking indignant.
“I’ll go. Alone, at night, and scout it out first,” Mina said, sounding nervous.
“No, It’s me or Jugger. We’ve always been the fastest. I’m going, no arguments,” Battery Boy said.
“He’s right, let him go,” Jugger added.
“Good luck Battery Boy,” Nurse Trinity said, surprising him. There was no joke, no insult and no crazy dance. Things must be getting serious.
The Iowa Block appeared over the horizon, biting into the late afternoon spring sun. Battery Boy landed his ship and set off atop his Crusher. Waves of tall prairie grass stretched far ahead, glistening with flashes of a softer brighter green as shallow sunbeams reflected off seed-heads, directly into his eyes. Battery Boy lowered his darkened visor, picked up the pace and powered on towards the Block.
Sooner than expected the deepening darkness of the Block’s shadow and the light drizzle running down his visor made it awkward to pick out obstacles. Powering ahead at thirty kilometres an hour gave him little time to react to anything the Crusher’s powerful twin headlights might suddenly illuminate. Battery Boy was encased in a metal papoose high on the back of the machine, allowing him to see ahead over the massive robot’s right shoulder. Thick padding inside the cocoon protected his body from the constant buffeting generated by its thunderous footfalls. A sturdy helmet and neck brace gave him some additional protection. At any velocity he needed all the cushioning he could get. Crushers were never meant to be ridden.
The Crusher system modifications seemed to be working. The dumb, deaf and blind machine ploughed on unaffected by the Block’s invisible defences. To get the complex machine anywhere near a Block and still functional, most of what made it smart had been ripped out and the lobotomised leftovers heavily shielded.
The Block ahead was uncomfortably familiar. The blasted earth surrounding it, the light drizzle and the mass of dark thunderous clouds encircling its summit were horribly reminiscent even though this structure was thousands of kilometres from his own Block Seven memories.
He pressed on across the dead earth until both jockey and machine passed out of the shadow and into the thicker darkness under the Block. He kept up the pace heading deeper, encountering nothing, not even cockroaches. And so far there were no pits to fall into either.
Somewhere up ahead, somewhere closer to the centre, a single green light flashed for a second. Battery Boy slowed the Crusher and moved forward cautiously, searching the ground ahead for a telltale pit lip.
Just when he thought this Block didn’t have pits, a lip jumped into view. He slowed the Crusher to a crawl and lumbered towards the black line picked out in his headlights. The lip of the pit ran right and left as far as he could see. The other side of the pit wasn’t visible: it was one huge hole.
Battery Boy shut down the Crushers’ engine, extinguished the headlights and in the darkness and silence settled down to wait and watch. Less than an hour later, a perfect square of sickly green light appeared on the underbelly of the Block. It released a thin mist of luminous fluid to fall into the inky black, thousand metre square pit lying directly ahead of him. In the green glow Battery Boy could clearly see it was the only pit. Everywhere else was only hard packed sterile earth.
He waited and timed three more of the green showers. They were as regular as clockwork.
The sound from the Crusher’s engine firing back up ripped through the quiet darkness. With headlights blazing again, Battery Boy spun the machine around, floored the accelerator and headed back towards his waiting transport.
“There’s no defence. It’s perfect, we can set the bombs off when the Block opens up,” Battery Boy concluded as he finished debriefing the others on his scouting trip.
“And you’re sure there’s no one living underneath?” Mina asked again.
Battery Boy shook his head. “There’s nobody underneath, no one living outside, and from what Tippese said, no one left inside. We’ve talked about this,”
“I just don’t want to kill any more innocents,” Mina whispered.
“We won’t. We’ll set the bombs and they’ll be triggered by the green light. There’ll be plenty of time to get out of there. The Owners are going to find out we’re not so easy to push around,” Battery Boy said, convinced they had a real chance.
“They’ll negotiat
e. Just as you planned Mina,” Tress said.
Mina nodded in agreement but without much conviction.
“Trinity, how long before the full force is ready?” Battery Boy asked.
“A month, maybe a little less. You’ll all need the time to get the hang of managing a whole troop of Crushers.”
“So, who’s going?” Jugger asked.
Battery Boy knew that question was coming. It was the one thing they hadn’t yet decided. There were to be three sets of missiles. Three of them would be going. They hoped at least one of the three would make it to the underneath and maybe come back.
Mina asked the obvious next question, “Trinity, who’s got the best scores on the simulation?”
“Jugger, Battery Boy and Pinkie.”
Jugger’s face darkened, “That’s not funny. She’s never even been in the simulation.”
“I have. I liked it. I did loads of runs when you lot weren’t practising. Pretended all those spider things were Worry’s gang. I’ve had great fun blasting them to bits.”
“She’s not going,” Jugger said and glared, daring anyone to challenge his statement.
Mina answered for everyone, “Of course not Jugger. I don’t think she’d even fit inside a real operator’s cage.”
Battery Boy knew what Mina meant. Pinkie was hugely pregnant and glowing like a light bulb.
Pinkie walked over to Jugger and put her arm through his. “Then he doesn’t go. Baby needs its dad and I need my man.”
Jugger looked proud and torn, “I’ve got to go. They won’t make it without me.”
Pinkie wasn’t giving up, “We both go or neither of us. That’s final.”
Battery Boy knew he had to break the impasse. “Trinity, after me, Jugger and Pinkie, who’s got the best scores.”
“Mina, Tress and, a long way behind, Stuff.”
Battery Boy didn’t like the obvious conclusion, but it wouldn’t be right to take Jugger away from Pinkie. At least he and Tress would be together.
Tress was obviously thinking the same way, “That’s settled then I guess.”
It wasn’t settled. Stuff grabbed Tress’s arm. “No, no. You can’t go Tress. You’ve done enough. I’ll go. It’ll be okay.”
Battery Boy was tempted. Tress could be safe, at least for a while longer. She had other ideas.
“You’re just a kid Stuff, you’ll get your chance to fight. It’s not your time yet.”
Jugger never had been sentimental. “In Block years he’s more than old enough to fight and die. He’s not a kid any more.”
“Jugger’s right, I’m not a kid. I want to do something to help. I beat the bear.” Stuff looked around the room at the sceptical faces of everyone except Battery Boy. “I did. I didn’t make it up. I’m not a kid any more.”
“What’s a bear,” Jugger asked.
Surprisingly it was Pinkie who answered Jugger. “I told you, it’s this giant animal. Huge teeth and claws. No way Stuff could have killed one.”
“Pinkie’s right and it’s twice as big and twice as mean as you Jugger. It charged us and Stuff stopped it dead in its tracks. Saved us both.” Battery Boy said.
Jugger looked sceptical. “Yeah, so how did this little squirt beat something like that?”
Battery Boy looked directly at Jugger. “He outsmarted it.”
“Is this true Stuff, you really did stop a charging bear?” Mina asked.
“Yeah Mina. I was scared but I did it. I can fight.”
Pinkie put her arm around Stuff’s shoulder. Even though she was only a few years older she towered over the small boy. “That’s amazing Stuff. I’m really sorry I made fun of your bear adventure. But, it’s not our time Stuff. We’ll get our chance. This is not going to be over any time soon.”
Mina had the last word on the subject. “We’re fighting so we don’t have to live under Block rules. Before the Blocks, he’d be a kid enjoying his childhood. Stuff stays and you’d better look after him,” she said, looking pointedly at Jugger.
“Then it’s decided.” Battery Boy wasn’t happy that Tress was going to be risking her life again, but Mina and Pinkie were right about Stuff. He was happy they were going to strike back, just as the crew of the Small Business had done. Maybe they wouldn’t survive either. Maybe they’d scare the Owners away for good. Either way, Battery Boy was determined, he’d never stop fighting back.
Chapter 9 – Relieving the Tension
A dreadnought class Regulator, the Cruel-to-Be-Cruel, dropped into normal space on the far side of the Earth’s Moon and came to a stop. A myriad of clever machines assessed threat levels. Inquisitor Harder, Sector Seventy-Six Commander, sighed mournfully: nothing, absolutely no threats at all, not the slightest excuse to ignore Truculent’s instructions and strike immediately. Deflated, he turned to the bridge officer and curtly ordered the signal be sent that would bring the Regulator Annihilator out of dark space.
The sister Regulator burst into reality. Its sudden appearance was a rousing sight, a slate-coloured, vertically aligned scimitar of wonderfully destructive power, and a mirror image of the Cruel-to-Be-Cruel. Unadorned by any markings or surface features, it could have been a solid sculpture of bluish-grey lifeless stone, a mysterious cosmic artwork long abandoned by some forgotten culture.
The Cruel-to-Be-Cruel and the Annihilator moved as one, past the Moon and on towards the Earth. Inquisitor Harder disliked missions requiring the direct involvement of a Priest. Unaccompanied, the Inquisitor's objectives were always coldly simple: to gratuitously demonstrate the awesome power of the Empire while utterly erasing enemies and their habitats. Those missions had a wonderful, satisfying simplicity and, occasionally, those to be erased would have the courage and the technology to fight back. Such rare occasions justified the use of the harshest weapons and allowed little-used defensive measures to be practised.
This current assignment smelt of irritating complexity, and concealed Priestly objectives, wrapped up in hideously opaque politics. The compensation of any kind of combat seemed unlikely. After a tedious cycle of slow travel, the best Harder could hope for was a rapid conclusion and then quickly being assigned something more challenging. Like every Inquisitor before him and all that would follow, he was born and bred to protect the Empire, led by the Priesthood. He could not disobey, even if it involved his worst nightmare, compromise and negotiation.
Harder parked in geo-stationary orbit directly above the target factory Truculent had indicated. He completed one final, disappointingly fruitless, threat check. It was all so dull, and even worse, Harder had no reason to keep the High Priest away.
Truculent’s silver barge blinked into existence between the two dreadnoughts. Compared to the Regulators Truculent’s ship was tiny and slightly whimsical. It was shaped like a Priest’s brimless stovepipe hat. Harder knew it was equipped with powerful defences and potent weaponry of its own, but he couldn't help wishing it looked a little more martial and less like a silver parade float. That was another reason he preferred not to have Priests tag along: their ships rather spoilt the menacing symmetry of a Regulator fleet.
During his one and only visit aboard the Priest’s barge to receive his briefing, Harder had been pleased to note that the ship’s Tuned was safely stowed in armoured stasis. As he knelt to pray in front of the living embodiment of a High Angel, enjoying a moment of simple meditation, he had contemplated his instructions. They were to travel to a far distant corner of the Empire and investigate certain anomalies. Not encouraging instructions, no indication of who or what was to be punished and only a vague indication of what was being sought. Harder was well aware that an unprovoked and cowardly attack on the Empire’s property had emanated from their destination, but Truculent seemed strangely unconcerned about justice for the vandals responsible. Looking up at the frozen Tuned in its transparent cube, he thought at least one objective would always be clear: the Tuned’s safety was to be guaranteed at all costs. Even Truculent’s survival was a secondary consideration.
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br /> Having a Priest in charge had been Harder’s first indication this was no ordinary punishment expedition, and the presence of the Tuned greatly added to his unease. He had never heard of a Tuned leaving a shrine. And to add to the unusual conditions, there was the woman. She was quite magnificent, unexpectedly so, and completely unlike anyone he could imagine Truculent associating with. She also seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn’t say why. Her role on the mission was unclear. She was obviously with Truculent so that meant she was to be treated with the same respect and, unfortunately, was completely out-of-bounds.
Having finalised all the preliminaries, it was time to find out a little more about the operation. Harder assembled an honour guard of Defenders and transferred across to Truculent’s barge for a second visit.
Truculent and the woman were waiting for the Commander and his Defenders in the same lounge Harder had first visited. He cynically guessed it was the one Truculent used especially for meeting Inquisitors. It was a simple oval room coloured in a uniform Channel white. An unnecessarily low ceiling adding to the sense of severity. At the back of the oval, the Priest and the vision were sitting on a stone bench that looked appropriately uncomfortable. The only other objects were a scattering of plain stone cubes, used for sitting or tables. The dreary tediousness of the room was only relieved by the woman and the brightly coloured iconic frescoes that adorned the walls. He approached the two figures, ignoring the opportunity to sit, and stood stiffly in front of the bench. Harder’s small phalanx of Defenders were standing to attention just inside the entrance to the oval room. He was finding it difficult not to stare at her while he briefed the Priest. His squad were more fortunate; their heads were encased in mirrored combat helmets. He had no doubt his Defenders were using their facial concealment to stare gratuitously.
“Threat levels from the planet and the surrounding space are negligible,” said Harder. “All factories have been switched to central command mode, local management is locked out. A factory in the southern hemisphere has been temporarily upgraded with the latest Travel-Way manufacturing technology and production has commenced. A planetary containment shield is being established. Both will be completed within three spins.” Harder stood stiffly at attention awaiting Truculent’s response.
