Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

  I stood in front of the giant screen with my arms folded, doing rough math as I picked out landmarks and compared them to what I remembered form our journey south. “Can you tag each group?”

  “It’s done,” Andi said, as a glowing A, B, and C appeared over three points on the wider map. “Judging by their heat sig, I’d say Rowan’s people number around sixty. Does that sound right by your estimates?”

  “Close enough. I was more concerned with him finding two or three hundred people to throw at us. Sixty isn’t good, but it’s not the worst news. They still have to get here, and they still have to get in. Then, they have to get past us. I don’t like their chances for all three,” I said.

  “I don’t like their chances to arrive without some loss. The storm trashed lines of approach, and there’s no way they have the data we do. Also, I can pick them off with the drones. We should be able to reduce them prior to any entry of the facility, and even then the gun mounts are waiting,” Andi said.

  “If they follow the beaten path. He won’t. His people might, but Rowan won’t. He’s too smart,” Chloe said.

  “You mean paranoid?” I asked.

  “Same thing. He’ll throw a few people into those guns, but as for his own precious skin, he’ll take the hard way. He’s always been like that, at least since he—since he had me,” Chloe said with disgust.

  “What’s our distance, in kilometers?” I asked. The map was rich with detail, but poor in scale.

  “Squads A and C have the hard road. They’re ten klicks out and every inch of it is dangerous, especially if they try to cross this right here.” She flicked her fingers, and a depression lit up. “Unless I miss my mark, that’s either a gorge or a torrent of water. It’ll be a full day before they can clear that. No way you can swim it, and it’s—hold on, let me ping it,” she said, adjusting the most distant drone. “Okay, forty meters deep. No way you go over or around. Gotta climb down and up. I be stunned if they made it intact.”

  “Same here. I don’t like their chances, not given the lizards and whatever else is waiting since the storm got everything stirred up.” I considered our options. We had tasks in descending order of importance, and I was key to the one that could rebuild our future. I made a decision. “Even if they straightline it here, we have a day. If Rowan is as cautious as I think, then we have two. That means I go underwater next, clear the drains, and get the reactors secured. Nothing matters except that. Once it’s done, we rest and refit for our date with Rowan.”

  “What about all the drones?” Silk asked.

  “We use them, but sparingly. I want us to keep the advantages we have for as long as we can, and that means working with the possibility that we’ll never be able to find more ammo. For the guns, the drones, all of it,” I said.

  “Works for me,” Andi said. “I like our chances for rearming, but it’s the smart play to save some darts in reserve. Who gets thinned first?”

  “I leave that up to you. If one of those squads shows too much initiative—which I expect they will—then that’s our prizewinner. They get the Condors first, and then we’ll let the remote gun sites do their work, too. I expect one of the squad leaders to get greedy and break into a sort of charge, if only because of what they think is waiting for them,” I said.

  “Which is?” Silk asked.

  “Loot and women, of course,” I answered, smiling.

  “He’s not wrong,” Chloe said, looking around.

  “I’m counting on it,” I said. “Imbalance means they don’t attack as a cohesive unit, and that buys us response time. We need it. I’m strong, and you’re all strong, and the drones are fucking lethal—but we can’t kill sixty or seventy armed fighters at once. They can get us in a rush if they find a way in, and people who are desperate will find a way in.”

  “Good plan,” Mira said. “We go down to the next levels now?”

  “We don’t do anything of the sort. I’m not risking any of you in what might be a toxic soup. Not before we can start dosing you with ‘bots,” I said.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Chloe admitted.

  “Nobody is, and that’s why I’m going to hold my nose and see what the hell is going on underwater. When we secure this place, you can be the first round of people who get ‘bots, and not a moment sooner. I want a stable medical facility before you get dosed with anything stronger than aspirin,” I said. There was no room for negotiation in my tone. I wasn’t about to risk losing one of my inner circle to a fouled dose of ‘bots because their bodies weren’t used to the tech. I was a different story—I didn’t start at the ground floor. Chloe, Mira, and Silk might well die, and I wasn’t about to watch that happen.

  “I can wait,” Mira said with a hesitant note in her voice. She was uncertain about being given anything from the past, especially in her blood. She was a true child of the desert. She trusted her gun, her sword, and her hands. I could respect and understand that belief.

  “Then you will, and we’ll do this the right way when it’s completely safe.” I turned to Andi. “Get me to the door I need, and then everyone back off. I don’t know what’s down there, but it does no one any good to get in the water with me.”

  “I’m going to—” Andi began, but I put a firm hand on her arm.

  “No, you’re not. We can’t operate this facility without you, and I’m augmented for combat. If you thought the water was safe, you would have volunteered to go in it yourself to clear the drains, but based on what we’ve seen so far, that isn’t likely, is it?” I asked her. My eyes were kind despite the firm tone I took. I knew she was worried. Everyone was on edge, including me.

  “Not gonna lie. I don’t know what’s in the water, and I’m not sure I want to find out. After that fucking spider, I wouldn’t be surprised if Godzilla was waiting down under,” Andi admitted.

  “Which is why I go alone. Take me to the door, and Silk will guard the approach from a dry position. If anything goes sideways, she closes the door until you can use the guns to discourage Rowan. If you can. If I don’t come back, your priorities are two—stay safe and get some kind of power system back to the Oasis. That’s it,” I said.

  “You’ll come back. It’s just a flooded floor in a two-thousand-year-old weapons facility stocked with apocalyptic monsters and shit. Piece of cake,” Andi said breezily. She was an excellent liar.

  “My thoughts exactly. What could be worse than a giant spider?” I said.

  Nobody laughed, including me.

  19

  “How many doors?” I asked, checking my weapons for the fifth time. I stood before level four, the stairwell filled with water so it looked like a square fish pond. The surface was scummy, the water murky, and the smell was somewhere between moss and corruption. I didn’t relish going in, but there was little option.

  Andi looked over my shoulder with hesitation, her eyes bright and alert. The only light was cast by amber emergency tubes that ran along the ceiling at each side of the hall; the effect was like a sick sunset over an oil slick. Somehow, the light made the flooded hallway even less appealing, if such a thing was possible.

  “Can you feel it? Andi asked, poking at her jaw with a knuckle.

  The harmonic was even worse down here, given that the facility reactors—there were two—hummed away at the end of the hall in a safe room. I’d have to clear the drains, activate the emergency pumps with Andi’s help, and hope the door’s seals held in a room that had been submerged for an unknown amount of time. Andi assured me the seal did hold, because it wasn’t any normal door. It was a retrofitted submarine hatch intended to withstand water and anything short of a small nuke.

  If everything went to plan, Andi would enter the reactor room, switch the power system to a backup reactor, and secure the future for the Oasis.

  It was a big if, and we both knew it.

  She put a hand on my shoulder as I stood, staring into the still water. “How strong are your hands?”

  “My hands? What?” Her que
stion surprised me, and my reaction included looking at my hands with an accusing stare. “I don’t know. I’m sure the ‘bots have given me a grip that’s more than just human, Why?”

  She turned me gently to face the submerged floor. “Along the left side—you can’t see it, but it’s there—there’s a conduit that can hold your weight. It’s at the very top, where the ceiling and wall meet. One inch, carbon line.”

  “What’s inside it?” I asked. The idea of holding onto a power line for dear life was no solution at all if I got in trouble. It was a way to cook myself in the soup, and death by electrocution was far down my list of preferred activities.

  “Low voltage data lines. No chance of being shocked, so you’re safe there. But the conduit is strong, and the cable inside is even stronger. It might be useful, if you have to go all Tarzan,” Andi said.

  “If I have to swing from anything, it means shit has gone wrong.” I rolled my shoulders and looked at the water again. “Will clearing the first drain begin the process, or do I have to open all three?”

  “First one gets the ball rolling. It won’t do much, but it will start. I think you should clear one, come back here until an air space opens, and then go for the next two. Your ‘bots will help you hold your breath for three minutes or more, but even that might not be enough, depending on how fouled the screens are. They’re just above the floor level, as I showed you on the tablet. The key is getting them open and keeping them open. That’s why you’re going to need this,” Andi said. She handed me a trash bag.

  “A trash bag?”

  “Yes. A good old plastic yard bag, taken from the mess. Fill it with whatever you grab, bring it up here, and we’ll dump it. Lather, rinse, repeat until the level is clear,” she said. Andi was confident, if nothing else.

  “I’d expected something a bit more high-tech, but, sure.” I took the bag, tucked it in the front pocket of my pants, and inhaled. The water smelled ominous, if such a thing was possible. “No sense fucking around.”

  “Remember the cable, okay?” Andi said.

  “I will.” I turned, waded into the water, and dove under.

  The water was warmer than I expected; like an unpleasant bath with amber shadows and streaks of light through the murk. My target was on the left, some ten meters out and along the junction where the wall and floor met. I ran a hand along the wall as I kicked, expecting a six-jawed shark to bite me in half, or at the very minimum a spider that could hold its breath and attack underwater.

  Neither happened.

  If anything, the water was still but not stagnant, meaning it was in some degree of flux. I figured the drains were working, just not up to full capacity. Whatever was happening down here was a slow backup, like a sink that got clogged but will clear itself overnight. This difference between my surroundings and a sink was the location—the water around me was spooky as hell—and the low, irritating hum grew in my back teeth. The closer I got to the malfunctioning reactor, the more pronounced it was. I wondered if the water around me made it worse, but in the middle of my thought, my hand bumped against the distinct shape of a drain, right where Andi said it would be.

  I surfaced, not out of desperation but convenience. I’d been under for about a minute, and there was a silvery layer of air above me, shifting in the amber emergency lights. I pushed up to the ceiling, lifted my nose, and took an experimental sniff. The air was stale, moldy, and warm, but breathable. I’d smelled worse in a gym. I filled my lungs and dove again, reaching the drain immediately. With my left hand, I grabbed the mat of waste covering the drain, slowly easing as much of it into the plastic bag as I could without shaking it around. The less I moved the thick layer of debris, the more I could remove. Since vision was limited, I went by feel. There were leaves, and sticks, and shredded bags and other trash that would have swept down from the upper levels, most likely the stairwells during a torrential rain that managed to break into the facility somewhere.

  When the bag was full, the drain was open. I put my hand over it and felt a gentle pressure, pulling my palm down to the grate. Water was flowing out faster than before, and I knew, for the moment, I could return to Andi and plan our next move. One down, three to go.

  Out of curiosity, I swam forward first, toward the looming darkness of the tunnel. My fingers jammed hard against an unmovable wall, the metal surface slick with algae. I rapped my knuckles on it, hearing the metallic warble through the water, then turned and kicked hard for the stairwell. I’d ask Andi why there was a wall, because it wasn’t on any of the maps I’d seen, nor had she described it.

  I broke surface, sucking in the fresh air of the stairwell as I dragged the bag behind me, pulling it free of the water in a sodden mess. “Clear. One down, and it’s draining. I can feel it working.”

  Andi’s relief was palpable as she smiled at me in the brighter light of the landing. “You’re—I’m glad you’re back. That was fast.”

  “It was right where you said. I cleared it, filled the bag, and managed to avoid being eaten. So far, I’d say we’re winning,” I told her, hauling myself up the steps to sit on a stair, dripping.

  “Anything in the water?” she asked me, her face a mask of concern.

  “Not that I saw. It’s just a flooded hall. I wouldn’t recommend it for a casual swim, but there’s actually a bit of air up top. The place isn’t completely flooded because the reactor is still throwing power. When you get down there, the hum is a lot worse. I don’t know if the reactor is less stable, but it’s way more pronounced. Makes my teeth hurt,” I said.

  Andi looked thoughtful. “That’s just a proximity issue. This was all you took from the drain?” She poked at the bag with suspicion, as if it might begin spilling monsters. Or snakes. Or both.

  “That’s all that was on it. Heavy, not moving. I cleared it in one piece, and the water started to pick up speed through the drain. I don’t know how long it will take, but there’s a problem. I found a wall that wasn’t on the map you showed me,” I said.

  “Metal?” she asked, not missing a beat. “Floor to ceiling?”

  “Yep. You know what it is?”

  “Security hatch. Naval design, sort of, but it’s totally mechanical. We don’t need to worry about power to move it for access to the next chamber,” Andi said. I was glad of her confidence, because in the gloomy water, I didn’t see things in such a rosy light.

  “How? It was a wall. Don’t moveable walls rust in place?” I asked.

  “Sure, but there’s a hatch in the middle of the room, and that is something you can handle, especially with the water gone. It’s secured with a single bar, rotates down and locks. No computer, no secret code, nothing. Just your muscles versus a bar that has to lift an inch. We designed it that way because of water pressure and the FUBAR principle, but even if that goes wrong, I have another trick up my sleeve. Or on this tablet, I should say,” she said, brandishing the computer.

  “Please tell me it isn’t explosive charges that have been submerged for twenty centuries. That might be a problem,” I told her.

  She laughed, her teeth white in the light of the landing. I could see her tension draining like the water, which was now visibly lower in the stairwell. “We’re okay. When we designed the hatch system, we figured flooding might be an issue. There’s a bolt at the ceiling. Pull it down, and it rotates an internal series of six more that hold the hatch wall upright. There wall lowers on hydraulics, like a ramp.”

  “Which direction?” I asked. If it went away form us, then it would allow the first chamber to flood again, if only halfway.

  “Depends on the water pressure. The hinges are capable of going either way. Just to be safe, You’ll want to pull the bolt—if you even have to—and get the hell out of the way, okay?” Andi said, opening the trash bag to look inside. “Gross. The future is disgusting.”

  “What’s in it?” I asked, looking at the debris. The smell began to drift up, and it was a lot less pleasant than the stagnant water. “Huh. Rat hair, I assume. Yo
u’re right, that is disgusting.”

  “And . . . baby scorpions?” Andi asked, nudging something dark with her finger. “Is that a shell? I mean, carapace?”

  I pulled the object from the trash, turning it over in my hands. It was longer than my hand, black, and curved. Like a shell, but not a scorpion. It was flexible, and came to a point on one end, like a teardrop. There were ridges inside as if something had been attached. “I’m no entomologist, but I would say with high confidence that this is definitely some kind of bug.” I nodded for emphasis as Andi burst out laughing.

  “Brilliant. You’ve got a future in bug science. Clearly.”

  A noise came down the stairs, and Chloe appeared, then Silk and Mira. They wore expressions of concern.

  “How’s it going?” Silk asked, taking in my dripping appearance.

  “One drain clear. Any idea what this might be?” I held up the odd shell, handing it to Chloe who was the only person willing to take it from me.

  “Looks familiar. It’s not a scorp. Different legs and shape. Hm.” Chloe held the shell out to Mira, who bent the shell in her hands, feeling the flexibility. “What do you think?”

  “I’ve seen it too,” Mira said. “Can’t recall where.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Silk said, holding her hands up in defense. “I’ve lived my life trying to avoid things like that, not get close enough to make friends.”

  I took the shell back, dropping it on the floor as I began to empty to trash bag. “Can’t say I blame you. There aren’t many things in this world that would make good pets.”

  “Least of all you,” Andi said.

  I gave her a dignified nod, because I’m a refined individual, and then I stood, crammed the bag in my pocket, and began descending the stairs to the water. “That hum is getting old.” I pushed at my temple where the whine of the reactor was drilling away like an unwelcome dentist.

  “Jack, one bolt and then step back, okay?” Andi said.