Burning Eagle

by Navin Weeraratne

Chaudri looked perplexed. “The EMTs cleared him, and we handed him over to his parents.”

  “Do you know why they let him go?”

  “No. We tried questioning him, but he was traumatized.”

  “Why children?”

  All eyes turned to Jahandar.

  “No really. They could have hit the police precincts or the fire service. What was the point in attacking the school? It has no tactical value.”

  “They’ve attacked schools all over the city,” said Chaudri. “And clinics.”

  “They’re sick bastards,” said the policeman with the tea cup. “What more do you need to know?”

  “It’s a good question,” said Chaudri, “But I don’t think this is the time. As soon as they realize they have nothing left to lose, they’re going to shoot the children.”

  “Agreed,” said Koirala. “Let’s do this.”

  “What’s your name?”

  The man lying prone, looked up from his scope. “Vishva, Sir.”

  “Vishva, I need to use your sniper rifle.”

  “Go ahead,” he rolled away.

  Jahandar got down the floor. The room was designed to be a studio apartment. Plastic tarps crumpled in the breeze, water dripped from the unfinished ceiling. A set of builders’ tools lay on a trestle table, and a pair of gloves. Jahandar wondered if the building would ever be finished now.

  “They barricaded the window,” said Vishva. “They know better than to expose themselves.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Jahandar peered through the scope.

  He blinked into infra red. The building turned blue except for a collection of warm red on the second floor – and the roof. Already, the rest of the unit had finished scaling the wall. He made out Koirala’s smaller frame, walk to the roof door and start picking the lock. A minute later, and they were coming down the stairs.

  “The door just opened itself!” asked the police sniper.

  “You know, if this was a more powerful rail rifle, you could shoot through walls and end this.”

  “So give me one, and I’ll end this.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  The team reached the second floor. The eight red blurs in the staff room remained motionless. Two more were in the back room, standing over a huddled mass on the floor.

  “Those walls are plasticore,” said Jahandar. “Do you know the most important thing a sniper should know about plasticore?”

  “It’s self-assembling?”

  The team reached the shut, staff room door. Saleh and Khalid flanked it, PDWs ready, backs to the wall. Koirala’s heat signature pulled out a flash bang. She turned, and waved through the walls, directly at Jahandar.

  “It’s also self-disassembling.”

  He aimed at one of the standing figures in the back room. Inhale. Squeeze. Pop.

  At over twice the speed of sound, the rail round exited the barrel. It streaked across and hit the school wall, perfectly square. The section of wall exploded inwards, jelly struck by a hammer. Then the round hit the gunman’s eye, before punching through his skull.

  Pop.

  The second gunman went down. The warm blurs in the staff room were still getting to their feet, when Koirala kicked the door in and threw the flash bang. Even across buildings, it was loud. The three burst in, firing headshots.

  “Clear,” Jahandar got to his feet, and handed Visha his rifle.

  “What? What just happened?”

  “Plasticore happened. It’s programmable. It has to be for buildings to rebuild or refashion themselves. If you can get past its code wall, you can do whatever you want to it. Same goes for anything else with a code wall.”

  The ponchos cheered in the street. EMTs and police started coming out of the building, carrying weeping children. A crowd of worried parents and hanger-on assholes had formed at the barricade.

  “Thank you,” Chaudri took Koirala’s hand in his, “Thank you so much for saving our children. We are in debt to you.”

  Koirala gently withdrew her hand. “Thank you, but there’s more to do.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Earlier, one of my team asked why the children were targeted. Now is the time to find out. Get the child that the terrorists released earlier. Find out what was different about him, from these children. I want you to get on this as soon as possible.”

  “This I can do. How do I contact you once we find something?”

  “Ask Nunez to send it to Battalion Command, and to address it to both me, and to someone named ‘Jack Diamond.’”

  The old man wrinkled his nose.

  “The famous, travelling, fight organizer? Is he your boss?”

  “The fuck, he is. But that shithead figures things out. This might be something people will want answers to.”

  Havelock XI

  I buzzed the door, but the device wasn’t working. I knocked instead.

  Nothing.

  I knocked again, harder.

  Nothing.

  “Hello? It’s me, Rex!”

  Heavy, metal bolts were slid back – one, two, three. I heard a safety chain clinking, and then both locks turned. The door opened.

  “Rex!”

  I embraced the gaunt, sleepless man my brother had become.

  “It’s so good to see you, Rex.”

  “And you. Where are the kids?”

  “I’ll go get them,” his expression became serious and he looked past me down the hallway. “No one was following you, were they?”

  “No.”

  He pulled me in and locked and bolted the door again. It took over a minute to complete.

  “Is that a gun?” I pointed at the carbine against the wall.

  “Yes,” he shook his head. “It was lying in the street. I took it without thinking.”

  “You can get arrested for possession. Do you even know how to use it?”

  He shrugged. “Not properly. But I learned. I’ll go get the kids, we taught them to hide when people come to door.”

  “Can’t they hear us?”

  “They can, but they wait for the ‘all clear’ first. Now here’s someone who never listens when I ask her to hide.”

  “Rex!” arms closed around me. They were thinner than I remembered. Crow’s feet had signed the lease for the sides of her eyes.

  I held up my bag, “I brought goodies.”

  She took it from me and looked into the bag.

  “Thank you so much. How did you find these?”

  “We just resettled some agri-techs on the Melon Pan. They felt they owed me a favor. That’s four crates of eggs; two bags of flower; and some butter. I wanted to get more, but they’ve stopped making it.”

  “There’s no more butter?”

  “It’s too resource intensive. The milk feeds more people right now.”

  “Well thanks for this – our ration cards are maxed out. Jeff has had to get food and fuel at Hayden Square.”

  “The black market? What are you bartering?”

  I looked around the living room. It was a lot barer than I remembered it.

  “You want to barter, get him to trade in that damn gun.”

  Jeff came back with Nathan and Carl.

  “Uncle Rex!” They lit up and ran to me.

  “They look just the same.”

  We sat at the kitchen table. The boys played on the floor, killing terrorists and aliens.

  “Children are tougher than we give them credit for,” said Jessica over her shoulder. She kneaded the dough on the counter, it already smelled great.

  Jeff poured me another glass. He beheld the dark bottle. “I can’t believe you managed to find another Chesterfields.”

  “You got your wish. Most of their vineyards are being converted to emergency camp sites. There won’t be any wine for a while.”

  “I don’t understand. How come they’re not sending people back to their own ships?”

  “Yes but who gets sent where? The hostages were mixed, bartered, and swapped around the wh
ole fleet. They’re coming back in overloaded freighters with weak life support. We need them offloaded where we know they can at least breathe and have enough water. Once that’s done we can figure out the rest.”

  “Rolling vineyards and hunting estates must be perfect, all that greenery. Nice of the owners to cooperate.”

  “They didn’t at first, so we threatened them. Want to know a rich person’s buttons? It’s their riches.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad someone’s pushing the Alliance’s buttons as well.”

  “We are,” I nodded. “Hard.”

  “Why?” Jessica finished with the dough and put it in a tray to ferment. “Isn’t this nightmare over now?” Jeff poured her a glass. She downed it, took the bottle, and poured herself another.

  “The nightmare is over, but now we’re making sure it’ll never happen again. We’re pushing for full voting status in the Alliance; no Old Ones; no proctoring. With the consent of the leaders, Human Affairs will start training militias on each ship.”

  “Militias?”

  “Between the insurgents and the black market, a lot of people are armed now,” I patted my brother’s hand. “Getting them to disarm will be easier if we can make them feel safe. And those who won’t will probably join the militias, themselves. Its better they be in organized, trained, militias, than to resort to what you do feel you’ve had to do.”

  “We’ve had to do it,” said Jeff. “No ‘feel’ about it. Don’t lecture me, Rex. You haven’t been where we have.”

  “I won’t lecture you. I’m also not seizing your illegal weapon, either. That’s specifically because I get that I don’t know what you’ve been through. I won’t insult you by preaching. But you need to give up your gun. It’s dangerous.”

  “Not like acquiring a stockpile of antimatter bombs, and then lobbying for full Alliance membership?” said Jessica. “Those weapons are the only reason they’re taking humans seriously, Rex. That’s worked for us too, right here in this neighborhood. My kids stay fed, Rex. People know this. This makes us a target for the hungry.”

  “We tried sharing in the beginning,” said Jeff. Then he looked down and said nothing.

  “I’m not judging you two for keeping your family safe, I would never do that. I’m glad you’ve done it, and I won’t ask any questions. But you need to realize that ultimately, keeping a deadly weapon makes you less safe. What happens when someone else with a weapon, crosses you?”

  “Turn that around,” said Jeff. “Don’t you think it’s pretty risky, nuclear blackmailing the Alliance? We saw how they reacted when the terrorists had bombs. And we’ve just seen they don’t think you and I are any different from the Scum.”

  “But they do see the difference. That’s why we’re getting concessions, and not more hostage raids. We’re legitimate representatives that they’ve worked with, and trust. It feels like we’re mounting a revolution, but it’s not. The elected ship leaders they’re negotiating with, the Human Affairs armed patrols, these aren’t new things. We’re not breaking out of the Alliance; we’re finally becoming part of it.”

  I looked into my drink but it was already empty. Over on the counter, the dough was definitely rising. I couldn’t remember when I’d last had fresh-baked bread.

  “I know academics keep saying true understanding between us and the aliens is impossible. That we’re fundamentally different, that nothing can bridge light years and eons of divergent evolution. I get that most often what happens is just is pantomiming and mimicry.

  “But those academics are wrong. We do have a common ground – even if it’s just the deSire to survive. That’s all we need, and it’s all they have when they deal with each other! The Alliance is not just a group of nations but a group of species. How hard must that be to run? But each member race once had the same problem we do. Each one had to find common ground. And they did it.”

  Their eyes seemed undecided.

  “You wait and see. Our lives are never going to be the same again.”

  Diamond VII

  “We’re forgetting all the big questions.”

  Vidya leaned her head against the window. She watched the desert streaking past below. Boulders and hardy scrub plants were their distance markers.

  Little Amit, I hope you are safe.

  “The tornado swarm event – did it achieve its desperate processing objective? And if so, what was it? How are we going to respond to it?”

  Madam Clare promised me. I hope you’re safe too, Clare.

  “And then there are the deeper questions everyone has forgotten about. The overnight rise of the Church of the Bug. Crazies speaking in tongues and channeling assault weapon designs. We need to know these things.”

  I’ll leave when we get back to Kashi. I’ll join the refugees leaving the city, I’ll come back home, Amit. Don’t worry, Big Sister is coming very soon.

  “Are you even listening?”

  “I’m listening,” said Elise in her pink tracksuit.

  “No I meant – yes, thank you Elise, I’m glad you were,” said Diamond. “Vidya? Vidya?”

  “I’m alright,” she said to the glass. “Why are we even out here?”

  “We’re available,” Diamond checked their altitude. “And we can land and take a good look. Washington can’t spare the Crossbows with the mountain search going on.”

  “It’s a stupid mission.”

  “Well we’ll know that for sure pretty soon and then we can leave.”

  “We’re coming up on our drone’s last known location,” said Elise, looking over her screen. “And the village of Amli should be coming into view now.”

  “We’ll check out Amli later,” said Diamond. “First let’s see what happened to my drone.”

  The black freighter slowed and descended, landing before a field of red boulders. The rear hatch opened and a ramp hissed down.

  “Elise, stay on the scanners and keep an eye out.”

  “Yes! Captain!” she sat up straight and saluted.

  “Come on Broody,” he tossed a water bottle to Vidya. “Let’s go do some work.”

  They stepped out of the ship.

  “This way,” Diamond studied his wrist-pad scanner. “Must have got stuck amongst these rocks and crashed.”

  “Aren’t they smarter than that?” she adjusted the glare filter on her sunglasses.

  “They are.”

  They made their way through the ancient monoliths. The sun poked through the gaps but did not warm. Cool air bit at their lips and chapped them.

  “Where is this damn thing?” Diamond stopped and adjusted his settings.

  “Use your eyes, man.”

  “I am using my eyes,” he kept on fiddling, immersed.

  Vidya walked over to a tall boulder and climbed it. The wind was stronger up top and made her long hair willful. She could see across the boulder field, beyond them was a huddle of adobe buildings.

  “This is what I meant,” she called down.

  “Do you see it?” he shielded his eyes.

  “Oh yes.”

  The wreckage was strewn about, but the hull proper and most of a wing was intact.

  “Doesn’t look like it hit a rock,” Diamond was on one knee, poking through shattered avionics. “At least not at first.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Its wrecked, but nothing looks crushed. Hitting a rock would have crushed the metal, like when cars collide.”

  “This looks odd,” she stooped and held up a chunk of plating. “Careful, the edges are sharp.”

  Diamond held up the chunk, peering at the hole in its center.

  “Oh this is odd.”

  “So it got shot down?”

  “More than that – the hole is perfectly round. It looks cored. Rail weapons do that.”

  “Only the UEF uses rail weapons.”

  “That’s what the UEF thinks, too,” he drew a machine pistol. “Let’s go see what a mothership, escape pod, brain backup, wants with a tiny village.”
<
br />   They traversed the rocks, one covering with their weapon as the other ran.

  “It’s quiet,” she whispered into her mike. “Where is everyone?”

  Diamond ran for the nearest adobe hut. Back to the wall, he peered round the edge. The dusty street was empty, not even a sleeping dog or a scurrying lizard. The huddled buildings stared like skulls, their black orbits were open windows with swinging shutters.

  He waved to Vidya. She ran up next to him, submachine gun in both hands. Slowly, he crept around, and into the street. He crouched, back to the wall, Vidya covered him with her submachine gun. He slid to the open doorway.

  “On three,” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “One, two, three!”

  They burst into the hut.

  It was a simple one-room home, not much unlike her own she thought. She could see where the table had been, and probably some stools. The fire place was in a corner, but while there was ash there was no soot. Clay jars were shattered on the floor, as if they had all fallen from a shelf at the same time. All around the room were little piles of glittering, white, dust.

  “What’s this stuff?” she bent down to touch some.

  Diamond’s giant hand suddenly manacled her wrist.

  “Don’t touch it!”

  “Ow! Why not?” she drew back and rubbed her sore arm.

  “These dusts – they’re all salts and oxidized metals. Do you smell that? That bitterness in the air? Uncommon minerals. It’s like we’re in a chemistry lab and all the bottles were left open. I’ve never actually seen this before.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nano attack. Everything organic – wooden furniture, paint pigment from the walls, soot from the fire place – they’ve all been stripped.”

  “But we have nano-machines in us.”

  “Military grade nanomedical - that’s very different. That’s also why we’re still alive, they’re designed just for this. These people were unprotected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He winced. “Darling, those big salt piles were probably the people who lived here.”