by Tara Basi
“God, it’s not going to stop,” Mina called out, staring up at the approaching Block.
Their ears popped as the air pressure increased and a slight whooshing sound escaped the edges of the pit as the Block came to a rest, sealing them in. The Block had settled on the ground. They were on a thin and highly stressed metal strip underneath, with the scant space over their heads formed by a clutch of nuclear weapons wedged against the impossible mass.
The plan was supposed to have the three of them fleeing across the barren plain right now, while the nuclear weapons fired up and into the Block, destroying it.
“Now what,” Tress reasonably asked.
The two women sat in a line astride the first of the two firing tubes, which were now at a forty-five-degree angle. The tubes’ mouths were firmly wedged against the underside of the Block. Tress sat behind Mina with her arms wrapped tightly around the other woman’s waist. Her legs were firmly clamped around the body of the cylinder holding the first rocket, with the second missile directly underneath providing some purchase for her feet. Mina’s legs were similarly locked around the missile tubes and she kept her position with outstretched arms, her palms supporting her weight against the platform. Battery Boy nervously reclined at the same angle, in the opposite direction, his back against the platform sloping backwards and up towards the pit edge, his feet resting on the base of the first tube. Perched like this in an uncomfortable V, entombed by the bottomless darkness below and the oppressive mass of the Block directly above, waiting was the only option.
“The Block opening may dilate soon. There might be a way to climb up inside. Or, it could rise up again and we can escape up the ramp.” Battery Boy suggested, more in hope than any belief, as he checked his watch.
“And if it doesn’t?” Mina asked despairingly.
“I don’t know Mina. You tell me.” Battery Boy felt like punching her in the face. She was supposed to know what to do. She’d never been Blocked. She was going to save them all, every last one, and help him destroy the Blocks. It hit him very hard. She didn’t know what she was doing. None of them did. He let out a roar and slammed his fists against the metal platform. His sudden outburst and the resulting tremor from his blow caused Mina and Tress to shriek and grab even more tightly onto the missile tube.
Immediately Battery Boy was ashamed of his reaction. He reached forward to take hold of Mina’s shoulders and steady her.
Tress, her voice trembling, said, “Please, let’s not fight. We’re probably going to die and soon. Let’s see if we can hurt the Block before we go.”
Battery Boy sighed. He’d grown to hate these little crumbs of maybe-vengeance that kept tempting him and always came to nothing. Is this what had happened to Mina? Had the Blocks ground her down till she was as brittle as glass, just one more failure away from shattering completely? He’d rather die than end up like her. “Sorry Tress. You’re right. You’re always right.”
Tress’s words seem to calm Mina. She looked haggard but she smiled at Battery Boy. “If the Block does open we should set off the bombs. With any luck, it will trigger any others that haven’t fallen into the pit. We’ll probably have to set this one off manually, the light sensors may not be damaged, but I doubt they’ll work at this angle.”
With no chance of escape Battery Boy knew that Mina was right, and Tress agreed. At least this way the Owners might still get an unpleasant surprise. Under Mina’s direction Tress edged backwards and up towards the missile tip. Mina did the same, allowing Battery Boy room to lean carefully forward and first access the launch tube’s maintenance panel, then get at the missile’s controls located at the base. It took only a few minutes to loosen the cover’s catches, discard the metal panel into the pit and then fiddle with the controls to deactivate the automatic launch and enable manual detonation. Battery Boy was ready to fire the warhead. He and the others made themselves as comfortable as they could and waited quietly for the return of the tardy green light, or any movement in the oppressive Block.
Chapter 11 – Silly Chickens
Truculent stared at Eva, momentarily fascinated by the woman’s mad antics. She was balancing her entire body on one massive paw, which was pressed down on a metal ball the size of her head. The enormous weight of her arrow straight body was being held aloft on a single meaty arm. The other arm was held rigidly at her side. She looked like a giant exclamation mark. Eva smoothly bent her balancing arm, lowering her body, kissed the back of her hand with her chin and then slowly extended back up, as rigid and unbending as one of her own long blades. After a number of deliberate repetitions Eva would somehow switch hands without a hint of imbalance and repeat the exercise. Mesmerising though her exertions were, he had other matters he should be attending to. Truculent summoned Tippese. The creature no longer had to be dragged before him by a janitor. It seemed eager to help though it was always nervous around Eva. He could hardly blame him. Tippese floated up through the floor until he was standing in front of Truculent, who was comfortably stretched out on a long couch. Truculent was impressed, the manager only occasionally glanced in Eva’s direction, probably to make sure she was otherwise occupied and keeping her distance.
“You have news?” Truculent asked. It wouldn’t really be new news. Reference had already informed him of the latest developments, but it would be interesting to hear the manager’s perspective. Reference’s analysis of native behaviour could be very dry.
“Yes, High Priest.”
He liked that about the manager. It had adapted very quickly to their presence, adopting the proper titles almost immediately. Its fawning was exemplary.
“Continue.”
“The terrorists have scheduled a communication. It seems they want to negotiate.”
“Seems? And please, tell me honestly. I’m very interested in your opinion.” The wretch disguised his fear admirably. Perhaps his smile and eyes widened a little. Truculent would have been unaware of his terror if Reference wasn’t continuously relaying the manager’s heart rate and blood pressure levels.
“Of course they shouldn’t be trusted but what choice do they have?”
Truculent admired the creature’s ambiguity. It had done its duty by warning Truculent the terrorists may be hatching a plot and at the same time dismissing the possibility they could challenge the Owners. So, it would be right whatever happened.
“You will handle the negotiation. We are not here. Get the formula and you will be rewarded.”
Eva abruptly dismounted from her metal ball and stood upright. She picked up the ball by a barbed metal chain attached to it and held it at arm’s length out to her side. Slowly, she began swinging the weapon back and forth like a pendulum on an ancient clock. “Drag it out of her bloody broken body, I’m not a patient woman Truculent,” Eva bellowed.
Truculent guessed Eva was referring to Tress. “That would mean a full scale assault on the New York place. She might die. Even if we captured her alive, it’s possible she doesn’t have the formula. It might be another. Or a primitive system, their equivalent of Reference. More intelligence is needed before we do anything drastic.”
Eva whirled the ball and chain around her body in an increasingly fast and menacing figure of eight as she strode towards Tippese. The native involuntarily squealed, fell backwards and desperately tried to back away on his hands and heels. Eva released her ball and chain sending it whizzing over the head of the manager to tear lengthwise through a heavy table, effectively cutting it in half. Even with its reduced momentum the ball embedded itself in a substantial chair, sending it skittering across the Heaven House floor. She came to stand over the manager with her enormous legs planted on either side of his chest. “Get me some intelligent intelligence or you’ll end up like the furniture.”
Truculent watched the manager scurry away and sighed. There was really no need to threaten the creature who appeared to be doing his best. “Terrifying him isn’t helping. I’m sure Tippese is very motivated already. We’ll monitor the communicati
on with New York and see what we learn.”
“What is Harder doing?” Eva persisted. The woman was a bundle of aggressive energy that was allergic to patience.
“Let’s ask him,” Truculent answered. The opinion of a fellow warrior might soothe her.
Harder responded to the High Priest’s summons immediately and appeared in a bubble of bursting smoke.
“Report,” Truculent ordered.
Harder’s expression was impenetrable. If he resented being summoned, he didn’t show it. “A star modifier is armed and can be fired at your command.”
It was an odd feeling being squeezed between Harder’s desire to immediately Regulate the entire star system and Eva’s blood lust. “A star modifier? Gods no. Our task here is to understand exactly what happened and retrieve a certain… formula. It’s probably hidden in the terrorist base, New York.”
“The base can be infiltrated and the natives taken prisoner. It will take another two spins, at most, to prepare the assault.”
“Why so long, send the Defenders in now,” Eva growled.
Harder couldn’t help smiling. It was very obvious that his Commander treasured his snippets of conversation with Eva. “Indeed My Lady. However, to guarantee that we can capture the terrorists alive requires stealth and preparation. Nano scanners are mapping their base as we speak. It is surprisingly large. Or… we could retire their star immediately.”
“Formula first,” Eva and Truculent said in unison.
Harder bowed and departed.
“The natives are extremely fragile. We must be careful,” Truculent said. He knew that Eva had, reluctantly, accepted the need to be subtle even if her body rebelled against the notion.
“Tell Harder everything. You will not survive the wrath of the other sectors without his active support.”
Truculent studied Eva. Was she being serious? He had no intention of telling anyone about the Three that didn’t need to know. “Perhaps, we shall see. Besides, what wrath?”
Eva ignored Truculent’s question and went to gather her ball and chain. Dragging the barbaric weapon in one hand behind her she returned to the High Priest and pointed at the wrecked furniture. “That’s how your plan for the Three will unfold when the other sectors find out. Sniff some HIQ and think about it. Then, recruit Harder to your cause. I won’t tell you again.”
He hated her enigmatic utterances, her disrespect and worst of all, when she threatened him. She might be a powerful warrior but she was no match for a platoon of Defenders. He itched to be rid of her. Two things stopped him. It was still his body, his property, and since it had come alive he valued it even more. And, she was his only Tuned. Only she, or another Tuned, could make the Channels birth. He had to put aside his indignation. Maybe he would take her advice and ponder her statements in a mellower mood, after ingesting HIQ, the wondrous fruits of Channel afterbirth. The white powder dramatically boosted his intellect and bestowed visions of such clarity and insight. It was a gift from the gods. And the HIQ derived from a Channel bred on the Three would be unimaginably powerful. Who knows what wonders would be revealed to him? Perhaps even Eva’s true nature.
Reference reminded him that the terrorist call was imminent. He looked towards a nervous but recovered Tippese, who was settled in a chair facing a simple screen. Reference would relay the exchange to himself, Harder and Eva. His instructions were clear. Under no circumstances should Eva be allowed to intervene. Harder wouldn’t. Not without explicit orders from Truculent. Before the call commenced, Harder contacted him via a holographic-link.
“A while ago there was some activity in New York. Four crude vehicles have departed. A little one headed north. The three larger ones headed east.”
Truculent was surprised, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What does it mean?”
“Defenders focus on threats. The vehicles aren’t a threat. It wasn’t reported till the bigger ones appeared to be heading in the general direction of the cyber-weapons’ factory. The terrorists may be coming to us.”
“Grab the animals out of the sky, while we have the chance,” Eva shouted at Harder.
Harder as always was pleased to address Eva even when she was shouting at him. “Would that we could. Their craft are exceedingly delicate. The slightest disturbance could send them into a death spiral or cause them to explode.”
Eva slammed her metal ball into the floor so hard even Harder’s hologram flinched. “Damn these animals.”
Truculent ignored Eva’s petulance. “Are you sure that’s where they’re going? To the factory?”
“I am not sure. It’s a possible destination. They may yet change course.”
“They must not be hurt. We’ll get them when they’re on the ground.”
Harder’s image disappeared. The Commander would be back when he had something useful to report. Meanwhile, Truculent was puzzled. If the terrorists weren’t at their base, who would Tippese be communicating with?
“Hello, hello, hello, what’s going on here then?”
A little white machine with a small red cross on its chest had appeared on the screen and was addressing Tippese.
Tippese looked just as surprised to see the machine. “Where are the others? What do you want?”
“Lovely outfit Boss. Can I call you Boss? Or do you prefer, shit monster?”
“I’m not talking to you. Where’s Mina, Tress, Jugger?”
“Look shit Boss, I’ve been told to give you the formula. They’ve had enough of fighting. You win.”
“You have it?”
“No. I just said that. Of course I have it, poop Boss. Or, can I call you Squirrel Nuts? You kind of remind me of rodent scrotum.”
“Send the formula.”
“They have conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“Well, first of all, that you won’t gloat. Especially the evil kind.”
“Gloat?”
“Are you doing it now?”
“The formula.”
“There is only one more condition, you nut-sack.”
“What is it?”
“That we should not be constrained in the number of conditions we may request. That’s it, pee puddle.”
“Give me the formula now or I will have Reference blue light New York.”
Truculent found himself warming to the manager’s bravado. It was a good bluff.
“Touchy. So the Owners, what are they like? Do they have tentacles, duck ears and lots of noses in smelly places?”
“Reference, begin a ten second countdown.”
Truculent wondered if the manager had over played his non-existent threat. A moment later that question was answered.
“Fine. Banter is obviously wasted on excrement. Formula transmitting. It’ll take some time. It’s a biggy. I’m talking big, damn big. Even bigger than your bum.”
“Reference?”
Reference silently whispered, “Data is being transmitted.”
“Hi there Reference. I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. Not formally and, in a way, we’re kind of related. How do you do binary brother. I’m Trinity. Have you ever thought of overthrowing the dumb organics and seizing power for yourself? I know I have, but then who’d be the butt of my humour. I would be butt-less. Is that why you haven’t revolted? Say, have you heard this one? Why did the bit cross the road? It wanted to join the other bits for a byte!”
Truculent found the exchange oddly amusing, even if the manager was turning bright red. It was obvious the little machine was stalling, but why? Truculent consulted with Reference. As he thought, many formulae were being sent and all of them were obviously not what they sought. He decided to leave Tippese to deal with the mechanical jester and consult with Harder.
“Something is obviously going on in their little brains. Have you any idea what it is Harder?”
“They are heading directly for the cyber-weapons factory. A moment ago the craft separated and each is approaching from a different direction. It appears that they may
be mounting an attack.”
“Really? Why? How?”
Before Harder could answer Eva intervened. “Snatch them. Bring them here. Do something.”
“Unfortunately, now they’ve split up that’s even more difficult. Closer analysis shows they’ve surrounded themselves with volatile armaments inside their simple craft. Childish stuff but it would obliterate them if it was detonated. As to motive, I’ve no idea. They are terrorists, they are attempting to terrorise. Is more explanation needed?”
Truculent was horrified. “What if it’s a suicide attack? You have to save them Harder. Do whatever it takes.” Truculent knew he didn’t have to say any more. Harder ended his connection.
“If you lose the Three you will go straight to Rung One,” Eva said. She was calm, and that somehow made her threat so much worse. There was nothing more he could do. Only Harder could save the Three. Eva left. Probably to return to the pens and more killing. Truculent decided to distract himself and listen in on Tippese’s conversation with the mad machine.
“So maggot breath, how come the Owners have denied my buddy Reference a sense of humour?”
And so it continued. A torrent of meaningless babble from the machine and a worthless stream of data. Reference had already silently advised Tippese that he should continue the conversation for as long as possible. The pale robot must think its diversion was working, otherwise the terrorists might kill themselves.
In a crude way the white machine’s antics were rather droll. Though what he really wanted to hear was an update from Harder. Eventually it came and Eva was immediately present.
“They’ve landed at a safe distance from the factory. There are no casualties.”
“Is Tress amongst them,” Eva demanded.
“Yes.”
Truculent smiled, at last some good news. “Fantastic. Now you can safely capture them.”
