Lincoln’s buggy torpedo hit its target perfectly but the mountain’s facade closed effortlessly as soon as the convoy was inside, smashing it to bits. As the carriers slammed to a stop inside the large echoing cargo hall, Rhodes leapt forward to retrieve his warclub. Landing on the handle with both hands, the weapon was dislodged, and he went back to dispatch the remaining buggy drivers before they had finished unbelting. Jumping onto the side of the rear carrier, he pulled the release handle and animals flooded out. Then he climbed back onto the roof and started wailing on the windshield with wild overhead swings of his club.
Popping out from the top hatch of the lead carrier, Lincoln shouted over to him with a smile, “This one was open, bro!” His humor faded, however, as he saw the animals leaving the other container. He clambered over to release the rest of the captives, and despite reservations regarding what had happened the last time he pulled a handle like that, he did so without hesitation. Disheveled animals burst out in a panic, only to find themselves trapped inside the enormous cargo bay. “Rhodes!” Lincoln shouted.
The human stopped hacking at the window and noticed the animal congestion building up around him. He jumped back down to the ground, severed another poacher’s hand and went to a terminal on the wall to reopen the mountain door. Red sand and natural light poured in as the animals stampeded out. Some turkeys and a whole caravan of giant stoats had started to wander down into the dark tunnel running through the other end of the cavernous room, and Lincoln went to usher them out. Rhodes had gone through most of the computer menus looking for silent alarms or boobytraps but found none. He did find live security footage but there was no way to tell if anyone else was watching. He found logs that indicated no one had used this entrance in hundreds of years but knew it was a lie.
Abandoning the computer, Rhodes went back to open the smaller cages inside the large carrier. Relieved not to find anymore humans, two long-horned oxen and some tall flightless birds went straight for the wide-open door, then the tribesman went back to the terminal to close the mountain again. With all the captive animals freed and gone, Rhodes gripped his warclub intently, jumped back up to the unopened cab of the rear carrier, and resumed pounding on it.
With six furious swings, the frame cracked and the two terrified men inside screamed. Rhodes pried the roof open, and when the men inside saw Lincoln staring down at them, their cries grew even louder. The gorillion silenced them with a roar, Rhodes quizzed them about security protocols, and once they had learned everything they needed to know about transport procedure, the tribesman smashed both of their heads in with one clean swing of the club.
“Well,” Lincoln said, as if surprised. “That went pretty well...”
Rhodes managed to fake a faint smile. “You wanna eat?”
Both of them were hungry, but looking around at the corpses, neither were interested. They drank plenty of water from a hose on the wall, then Rhodes used a terminal to schedule a pickup. While they waited for a train, they put on as many layers of poacher garb as they could, although there wasn’t much that fit Lincoln. Four hours later, right on time, an enormous, empty train pulled up. Obviously designed to transport containers without the cab from the carriers alone, it was essentially just an open frame, but there was a small compartment in front for personnel. To maintain appearances, they loaded both of the empty containers, then stopped to talk.
“Yeah...” said Lincoln, “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”
“For real,” Rhodes replied, staring up at it. “It’s like a giant cage.”
“How long would it take us to walk?” Lincoln asked.
Rhodes shrugged. “A long time. And we’d probably get run over first...”
“Can we ride on top?” Lincoln asked doubtfully. “Or hang behind or something?”
Shaking his head, Rhodes said, “Nah, on top we’d get smashed. Behind, we’d get flung off.”
“Well, inside seems pretty dangerous too,” Lincoln said.
Rhodes nodded. “Maybe we can get in the ventilation system or something.” He walked back to the terminal and fiddled with it for a while before he said with frustration, “Nope. We either leave the way we came in and come back with reinforcements, or take this train right now...”
“I don’t know, dude...” As wary as he was, Lincoln had not thought about leaving. “By reinforcements, do you mean Starrletts or Dakota? That’ll take forever either way. Plus, there’s no way we’ll get in again this easily.”
“Take tarts while tarts is passin’,” Rhodes said.
“What?” Lincoln asked with a wry smile. “What’s that mean?”
“Tarts are food,” Rhodes explained. “It's kind of like, get ‘em while they’re hot.”
“Ahh, yeah. I get it.” Lincoln said as he walked up to the front of the train car and went inside.
Wordlessly, Rhodes followed the gorillion aboard. Pressing some buttons on the terminal inside, the doors closed and they started to move. After staring out the front windshield for a moment, he said, “Here we go, bro. Into the heart of darkness.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Just Plain Ugly
The train’s onboard computers were far beyond what was allowed under the embargo but it didn’t take long for the deluge of information to fill its memory banks. Morton and Frank had given up on monitoring extraterrestrial communications since it had all been sent millennia ago, and they were still keeping loose tabs on news coming out of the megacities, but most of their attention was now dedicated to establishing connections with other poachers. Needing a break after days of near nonstop reading, Morton wandered over to the liquor cart and poured himself another drink. Casually, he mentioned to Frank, “How about those riots in New York? Pretty crazy, huh?”
Frank continued typing for long enough that Morton thought he hadn’t been heard, so he poured his henchman a drink and carried it over.
As his master approached, Frank turned to him with tired eyes and said with quiet joy, “We just launched.”
“Whoa,” Morton said, impressed. “That was fast.”
“Yup,” Frank replied proudly, accepting the drink from Morton’s outstretched hand. They clinked glasses and drank. “The original crawler found plenty of hosts and it took off like wildfire. Now the whole thing is decentralized. Until the firewall goes back up, we couldn’t stop it if we wanted to...” Only realizing how bad that sounded after he said it, Frank quickly added, “I secured proprietary control over all the software. There’s no way we can get cut out of the loop, and assigning administrator privileges is part of the automated roll-out I’m doing now.”
Expanding their holographic globe to fill the center of the room, Frank got up to watch as it started populating with new color-coded indicators. Corresponding data were also being added to the legend on the train’s main screen, as well as a counter that was already at 10,000 and climbing fast. The henchman tapped a tablet a few times and an information window popped up next to one of many blue dots on the map as he explained, “The yellow ones will turn blue once the people on the other end complete their registration, and the shape indicates the type of units represented. That number might seem kind of small, but each one could represent several teams of poachers, so we’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg. See, this one in Mount Olivet represents three carriers sharing one transmitter, so what we’re actually looking at is thirty-five people armed to the teeth. They didn’t fill out this form properly though, it doesn’t say how many small craft they have. I’ll message them.”
Both of them moved back to their desks and went to work. The default chat rooms that had gone out with Frank’s original package were overcrowded, but volunteer administrators were creating new ones based on geography and preexisting relationships between teams. The new mode of communication did not come naturally to the traditionally solitary poachers, and most of the channels were flooded with immature nonsense. Morton had registered the train under the handle the Silver Bullet, and although he didn’t l
ike the video chat function much, he had found a number of text-only boards that he really enjoyed. Sitting slack-jawed and hunched over his keyboard, the only thing he said out loud for several hours was, “This is amazing.”
By early the next morning, the registry counter was at 35 million, which Frank estimated meant there were at least 400 million poachers affiliated with his network. Neither of them had slept, but he and Morton were both so happy about their online following that they didn’t feel fatigued. Capitalizing on a reputation built through a long and illustrious career, the smuggler king had no trouble becoming popular on every channel he had joined thus far, but as good as their numbers were, Morton knew how tenuous their control over the network was. In order to steal the Matron’s army, he needed to reach everyone, which is why they had scheduled a worldwide announcement that was now just a few minutes away.
Having done a soundcheck and ensured that the train’s lighting was optimal, Frank turned to Mister Morton and smiled. “You ready?”
Sitting in his high-backed leather-upholstered chair, in front of his antique wooden desk adorned with ornate trinkets—Morton took a small sip of his fine aged whiskey, smacked his lips loudly, and replied, “Yes.” Standing up, he superficially straightened his hair and vest, then sat back down.
There was a timer counting down on the monitor but Frank showed the final five seconds on his fingers before nodding to indicate they were live.
Staring straight into the camera, Morton said with a warm, rumbling voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. My name is Mister Morton, and we... have an army...”
Cheers from all around the world erupted through the party-line. Frank let them go on for a moment before lowering their volume.
Over the dulled roar, Morton continued, “As you can see, there are millions of us! And with the airwaves free once again, we are all connected! And believe it or not, that makes us the most powerful fighting force on the planet!” Frank turned the volume back up as the poachers cheered, and Morton waited with a smile on his face. “Now, most of you know me already, by reputation at least, but if you don’t, I’m the one who sold you the tin can that my voice is coming out of right now.” Even though Frank wasn’t sure how many of them had video enabled, Morton chuckled and shot them a wink.
“I want to thank you for joining our little network. We poachers are a solitary type, but you had the good sense to recognize a real opportunity when you saw it. Despite our numbers and this revolutionary technological leap, there will always be more animals than we can count, so we will be out there hunting.” Frank let another massive cheer go out over the channel, then cut them off as if Morton had interrupted. “We’d be fools to think there weren’t government forces still aligned to stop us! By standing together, however, we will be unstoppable!”
The roaring approval that came back from the poachers was deafening; Morton knew he had them. After letting the cheers die down naturally, he continued in a more personable tone, “It’s important to remember that this new tool does not come without cost. Our industry was born in the shadows. We thrived there. And now the government’s prying eyes will be watching more closely. There’s no avoiding it. Nothing we do or say will ever be truly hidden again... Most of our lives have been spent covered in mud and blood. And if you’re anything like me, you like getting your hands dirty!”
Morton’s voice was as loud and fierce as the replies of solidarity that Frank selected to play back over the public channel. “Those offworlders think that by watching us, they can control us! But the net in which they think they have us trapped, we will use to bind ourselves together instead!” Morton stood up from his desk and Frank adjusted the camera angle accordingly. “The government wants to own you! Earth’s stewards have had enough of our freedom! The Matron wants to tell us what animals to catch! And how much money you should make for doing so!”
Even though all reply channels were muted, Morton could tell his anti-establishment rhetoric was resonating with the poachers “By taking down the firewall that blotted out our skies, she thinks she’s already slipped the bridle around our necks... Many of you have taken contracts from Wolfchan–”
As soon as he uttered that name, the train wobbled as its levitation field thirsted for power. The map flickered for a moment, and the Silver Bullet dropped from the network. Frank panicked at his terminal for a moment while Morton stared at him with horrified confusion, but things quickly stabilized. After reading diagnostics on his screen, the henchman looked back and whispered to his master, “The firewall is still down. Everyone was disconnected briefly but they’re logging back on. It says we’re still live.”
Morton looked back into the camera, but before he could say anything, a young woman’s face appeared on the train’s main screen, and she spoke with a bubbly voice and a delightful southern twang, “Ladies and Gentlemen, three cheers for Mister Morton! Please, let’s give him a big round of applause!”
According to the registry, there were already twice as many poachers connected to the network than there had been when Morton was speaking, but few of them knew how to respond to Wolfchan’s exuberant energy. With a thick accent and clear sense of superiority, she sounded like a true Southern belle, and for most of them, it was either love or hate at first sight.
“Where is the signal coming from, Frank?” Mister Morton whispered urgently.
After tapping at his terminal briefly, Frank turned back to his master with a look of dark and brooding anger, silently confirming that it was the Matron.
“Can you cut her off?” Morton asked, nearly frantic. “Kick her out? Anything?”
Frank just shook his head.
The bubbly voice resumed with fiery confidence, “And now, let me introduce myself! I’m Wolfchan! Hahaha! I’m sorry, thank you... Thank you...” There were a lot of confused noises coming back through the radio. Morton didn’t want to admit it, but her laugh was adorable. “Tee hee! Okay, next up is Mister Morton’s man, Frank!” The henchman blushed with embarrassed anger but Morton’s eyes were fixed on the screen. “He’s the one who designed the network we’re talkin’ through right now. And even though Morton is the one who sold that equipment to me, which I then sold to Kravinov at a whopping discount, so’s that he could give it to you... without Frank’s brilliant programming, we wouldn’t be having this conversation for at least another week. So please, let’s give them both our thanks!”
The clapping that came back was louder this time but still far from enthusiastic.
Laughing daintily, the Matron disguised as Wolfchan continued, “Now, normally I’m not one to quibble over words, but Morton said ‘we’ have an army and I need to be perfectly clear. I have an army. You work for me. I think what he said about my giving you some money was a bit of an understatement, because I have given you all a butt-ton of money. Okay? And I make good on my promises. You’re gonna get everything that’s comin’ to you, but that goes both ways. Mark my words, if at any point you think about reneging on our deal, I will make your life short and unpleasant.”
Wolfchan let silence come back over the radio for a while before continuing as cheerfully as ever, “That being said! We are on an accelerated timetable. Frank launched his amazing world-wide-web before I was ready, but that’s no big deal! It seems like enough of us are here now, so we might as well get started! I’m going to send you a whole bunch of data here shortly, so if you haven’t unpacked Frank’s mapping utility, I recommend doing that asap. It does a beautiful job of displaying everything I’m going to be showing you, and you’ll be at a major disadvantage without it. Again, fantastic work, Frank. Thank you.”
Both Morton and Frank’s blood boiled with resentment every time she said his name. Finally, the henchman gave up trying to unlock his terminal and moved to stand closer to the giant floating globe. Morton muttered to him scornfully, “Proprietary control my ass.”
“For anyone that can’t get this information visually,” Wolfchan continued conciliatorily, “I’m sorry. Based o
n the way Kravinov explained how he was going to prioritize equipment distribution, it probably means you were late on your union dues. And unfortunately, that is going to put you at a major disadvantage. For anyone using independent software, that’s fine, just be aware that my instructions will be based on Frank’s default color coding.”
As a number of complex indicators suddenly added themselves to their map and legend, Wolfchan explained, “As you can imagine, things are going to get pretty intense over the next couple of days. You see that cute little box that popped up next to your map just now? We’re going to call that your Key. If at any point you feel lost or confused, just look at your Key! It will tell you exactly what to do.” The train’s Key started flashing through some dramatic changes before stopping on what looked like two red arrows facing northeast. “See? You just received your first orders. It will say something like attack here or hold there. Go ahead, try it out. Right now, the goal is to meet the people you’ll be working with, so try and make some new friends, alright? I'm going to give y’all an hour to go out’n do that. Have fun!”
As soon as Wolfchan’s face disappeared, Frank went to his terminal to find that they had only regained partial control of their comms. He tried desperately to get another message out to the whole network but was limited to talking with those who had the same Key. As millions of poachers began following orders, Morton knew he wanted nothing to do with it, but found himself mesmerized by the colored markers dancing all over the globe. The patterns emerging from the large-scale troop movements proved how many people there really were in the field, but by participating, he would be helping the Matron win. Sounding defeated, he said, “Frank. Disconnect from the network. We’re going back to Mechanicsburg.”
Under the Shadow of the Plateau: Frontier Forever Page 27
