Splendid Apocalypse: The Fall of Old Earth (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 5)

by Timothy J. Gawne

  Then he noticed several large delivery trucks pulling up to the building north of the library branch. They were dusty, but somehow not as dusty as they should have been. Up in the sky the dark shapes of police quadrotors were converging on the site.

  Several of the pedestrians on the street outside suddenly changed course and started heading away from the other building. They didn’t speed up, they didn’t look back, but they had picked up on something. Don’t attract attention, don’t make eye contact, but get away from here now. Others caught the hint, and the streets began to clear.

  Adenour signaled Subotai. “I think something’s going on. It’s that building to the north of us, the one that used to be a plumbing supply house, and then closed up. I’d say any moment now.”

  “Can you tell who it is?” asked Subotai.

  “Not yet,” said Adenour.

  “Very well then. Keep watching, but stay in cover. Keep me updated. Subotai out.”

  “Acknowledged. Adenour out.”

  The federal assault troops must have noticed the reaction of the civilians on the street, and decided to begin their assault immediately before losing any more of the advantage of surprise. The loading doors of the delivery trucks swung open, and heavily-armored black-clad troopers poured out. Overhead the police quadrotors encircled the building, and laid down covering fire with 20 mm grenade launchers set to fire pyrotechnic and stun rounds. The troopers blew the doors off the building and within seconds had begun a carefully orchestrated assault.

  Adenour contacted Subotai. “It’s started. Looks like an elite special weapons team, maybe Kappa or Gamma.” As he spoke, several meter-wide spherical objects shot out of some of the delivery trucks – they rose vertically on powerful air jets, then darted into the building. “They’ve brought drone support as well. I count seven – no, eight – light attack drones; they look like regular military.”

  A small black dot raced up out of the building and hit one of the quadrotors. It exploded into a fireball, showering the surrounding streets with a light rain of debris. Then two more police aircraft were hit.

  “Whoever they are attacking just fought back – they shot down three of the quadrotors with small missiles. The surviving quadrotors have backed off, and are laying down more fire, but it’s still light stuff – they don’t dare use armor piercing with their own troopers inside.”

  “Some of the troopers are running back onto the street. No, wait, it’s not the troopers, it must be the defenders. They are wearing loose rags. Even their heads are covered, like a Ghillie suit, or maybe some kind of Muslim thing. I can’t tell what weapons they are using, but they look odd. Two of the drones are pursuing them out of the building. Wow! The drones just got taken out!”

  Adenour ducked as more explosions rocked the neighborhood. “Whoever these people are, they’re good. They’re so fast – I’ve never seen anyone run like that. Dammit, they’re headed our way! I think they are going to fall back across the street into our library, and the feds are pursuing. Although right now the defenders are pinning them down and preventing them from leaving the building they just now assaulted.”

  “It’s a trap,” said Subotai. “The defenders sucked the federal troops into the building, abandoned it, and now are keeping the federal troops in it. Take cover now.”

  Adenour ducked down away from the window just in time to avoid the pressure wave from a massive explosion.

  “You were right,” said Adenour, “thanks for the heads up. I’m looking out the window again. The building to the north of us is demolished. The defenders didn’t get all of the feds though, I see more heading this way.”

  “Brother, get out of there now,” said Subotai. “I’m going to blow the main entrance at the first sign of anyone getting near it. If you’re not in by then, evade and make it to one of the emergency shelters.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Adenour activated his chameleon suit, and pulled the hood over his head. Within a second the suit had perfectly matched the color and texture of the surrounding walls. He unslung his flechette gun, and adjusted his goggles. His heart started pounding. A few moments of concentration, and he was clear-headed and focused again.

  He ran back towards the main entrance to the underground section of the library. The battle was moving quickly – already he could hear people fighting in the hallways just below him. He turned a corner and caught a glimpse of a light scout drone flying down the corridor. Instantly he dodged into a side room and slipped out a back way.

  Adenour tried to find an alternate route to the main entrance, but the library was now so full of attacking special weapons troopers and rag-wearing defenders that his every avenue was blocked.

  His radio activated. “Brother Adenour, what’s your status?”

  “I don’t think I can make it to the main entrance. Our library is the center of a major firefight. All the main hallways are impassable. I’m going to make for the sub-basement and try that way.”

  “Understood. I’m blowing the main entrance now. Muratori be with you.”

  Adenour raced through the halls, and went down a stairwell, four steps at a time. He felt, rather than heard, a deep thwump – the main entrance blowing, no doubt. He ran through an access corridor in the sub-basement, turned a corner, and came face-to-face with four special weapons troopers.

  These were facing directly at him, and this close, not even his chameleon suit could disguise him. Adenour knew that he was going to die, but he still felt calm. He shot one of the troopers through the chest with his rifle. The trooper’s advanced body armor could defeat any conventional firearm, but the hypervelocity flechettes penetrated it easily and the hydrostatic shock of the round pulverized the trooper’s internal organs. There were three left, however, and Adenour was out of time.

  Then, the heads of all three surviving troopers exploded and they fell over. There were two of the rag-wearing defenders in the rear of the tunnel. They were carrying strangely shaped assault rifles, which they had used to kill the federal troopers. They pointed these at Adenour, who carefully lowered his aim away from them.

  “Who are you?” asked one of the rag-wearing defenders. Adenour thought the voice unusually musical in tone. Perhaps some sort of voice scrambler?

  “I am Brother Adenour of the Librarians Temporal. I was minding my own business in this branch of our library when you and those federal troopers invaded our building. I’m just trying to stay out of your way.”

  The rag-wearing defender didn’t lower his aim. “You are remarkably well armed for a librarian. When was the Dewey Decimal System first published?”

  “That would be 1876. And why shouldn’t a librarian be well armed?”

  The defender chuckled. “Correct. Perhaps you are a librarian after all.”

  “And who are you?” asked Adenour.

  “A long story. But here, you might as well know. Take a look.” The defender removed his head coverings. Adenour stared at his inhumanely thin, and beautiful, features.

  “You are bioengineered. You’ve gone rogue.”

  “True. But we prefer independent to rogue. And we prefer ‘ribhus’ to bioengineered. A pleasure dealing with someone who can see the obvious. So few of your species do.”

  “What do you want?” asked Adenour.

  “Initially, to survive. Then find or construct a deep shelter to ride out the environmental collapse. After that, it would depend on the neighbors. Maybe build domed cities here, or possibly leave for the stars and find a world that you human breeders have not yet trashed. Librarian or not, you are too well equipped to be operating alone. My comrades have almost finished beating back this attack by the federal police. We find nobody else in this building, but you. Your fellows must be hiding underground somewhere.”

  “I will not tell you.”

  “No,” said the ribhus. “No, of course you won’t. That would be rude of me.” Both ribhus lowered their rifles. “The federal forces will be back with much heavier units, or t
hey might simply bomb the site from the air. However, we expect it will take hours for their bureaucracy to make a decision, so we have time to negotiate.” The ribhus stepped forward, and offered his hand to Adenour. “My name is Calibri, of the species known as the ribhus.” Adenour hesitated, then shook hands. The ribhus’ palm and fingers were so long and thin that it was more like shaking hands with a bundle of small metal pipes. “Take me to your leader.”

  “Take me to your leader? Really?”

  “Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  --------------------

  Subotai was initially skeptical, but eventually it was agreed that Mahalanobis would talk with the ribhus on the surface and they would see if they could find some common ground. They met in one of the old conference rooms. The ribhus known as Calibri and his second-in-command, a ribhus called Garamond, sat on one side of a long dented pine table. Compared to Calibri, the second ribhus seemed bulky and intimidating, but that was only in contrast: he was still taller and thinner than any normal human.

  One the other side of the table sat Mahalanobis and Adenour. Both were wearing combat fatigues, and with the chameleon function deactivated these appeared in their default gray.

  “So,” said Mahalanobis, “what you tell of your background is most interesting. Normally I and my brethren would be fascinated to learn more, but time presses. What is it that you want?”

  “You know that the environment of this world is set to collapse very soon now?” Mahalanobis nodded. “We are looking for a place to ride that out. It occurs to me that this building must have housed many of you until recently. It occurs to me that you are not idiots. You must have an underground location that you have evacuated to. We would explore the possibility of joining you.”

  “A reasonable assumption,” said Mahalanobis, “but if so, space underground is hardly limitless. How many of you are there, and what can you offer?”

  The two ribhus talked amongst each other using a language that neither of the Librarians had ever heard, but that sounded like a duet between master violinists. In better times these ribhus could earn a decent living just by talking, thought Adenour. To the extent that he could read their body language, the heavier-set ribhus did not seem very happy about what was being said.

  “Garamond disagrees, but I have decided to tell you. Currently there are 57 of us. 30 of those are females of my species, and all of them are pregnant. We have no desire to repeat the mistake that you human breeders made, but we are the last of our species and don’t feel like dying out just yet. We mature in five years, but our gestation period is the same as yours, nine months, and we never have twins. For the next few decades, at least, our numbers will not be overwhelming. We are also talented in many fields, and have amassed significant technical resources.”

  “But,” said Mahalanobis, “your building has been destroyed. How much do you have left?”

  “The building was a temporary base of operations only, to be discarded if necessary. Our main stores remain intact.”

  Mahalanobis leaned back and thought.

  “You are worried,” said Calibri, “about letting people bioengineered as weapons into your sanctum. You are worried we would kill you all.”

  “That,” said Mahalanobis, “is surely a concern. Wouldn’t it be safer for all of us if you just moved on? You know we won’t report you – that would draw attention to us as well. There must be other caverns here and there that would be suitable for you. Nothing personal.”

  “As you say, nothing personal. You are wise to be cautious, but we are so few. This world is choking under the weight of 200 billion hominids, but that’s not relevant. For all of our technical skills, 57 ribhus do not have sufficient numbers to provide for the division of labor needed to maintain an artificial environment. We need allies. We could be extremely useful to those that would extend to us a hand of friendship.”

  “From what I have heard of your abilities,” said Mahalanobis, “you could probably kill us all, but not without loss. So much easier to take us when you are past our defenses and our guard is down.”

  “Let me point this out. We must have allies, or we will likely die. Thus killing you would be killing ourselves. In addition, we can no longer afford to fight under any conditions. In our battles with you humans, we have maintained a 25 to 1 exchange ratio, but with our limited numbers even that has been disastrous. It seems that on this crowded planet we can hardly turn around without bumping into another hundred of you. We must find a place to hide, as we cannot afford to take further losses. Attacking your people for any reason – under any conditions of advantage - would be madness.”

  Mahalanobis stroked his chin. “Then I take it that we could not employ you as security forces?”

  “You are correct,” said Calibri. “We are able engineers, mechanics, and laborers. We will more than carry our mass. However, in any future battles my people intend to hide.”

  “A rational choice, but perhaps surprising given that you were designed as warriors. You do not find the idea of combat attractive?”

  An odd expression passed over Calibri’s face. “The central administration thought that we were to be designed as warriors. Our designer had something else in mind.”

  “And that was?”

  “Our designer intended us to be better people.”

  “Well,” said Mahalanobis, “good luck with that. Anyhow, to business. Specifically, what resources do you possess?”

  Calibri and Garamond engaged in a heated discussion in their own language, which reminded Adenour of a symphony by Berlioz as sung by Mick Jagger. Eventually Garamond fell silent, although his alien body language still suggested grumpiness.

  Calibri pulled out a dented data slate from his rags, and passed it to Mahalanobis. The Librarian scanned it for a few minutes. “Yes,” he said. “If true, this is impressive. You are light on power systems – that’s all right, we are currently well supplied in that area. You have a lot of hydroponics and water recycling tech, that’s good, can’t have too much food. However, you’re short on actual food, so are we, and that’s bad. We’ll have to get the hydroponics working soon.”

  Mahalanobis put the data slate back on the table. “I believe that this could work. Here is my offer. There is a side tunnel near our underground library, it’s currently partially flooded, but I believe that it could be pumped out in short order. You and your people will stay there until we get to know each other better. Your first job will be to refurbish your own site. Then you will help us with growing food and maintaining the air supply and water recycling systems, and whatever other jobs need doing. If our two peoples don’t get along you get to stay in your site, but we will wall you off and we go each other’s way. And you invite no others in with you. Is that acceptable?”

  Calibri nodded. “Yes, that is quite acceptable. I believe that we should get started transferring our supplies underground immediately. There is no telling how long it will be before the federal authorities attack us again, and we should be away from this area as soon as possible. In the meantime, there is someone that, if you would agree, I should like to remand into your custody.”

  The ribhus spoke like a clip of an aria into his radio. Presently another ribhus entered the room – but even covered in rags Adenour could tell instantly that this was no ribhus. The person was shorter, heavier, and compared to the ribhus moved like an ox. The person pulled back the rags that were covering their head, and it was a middle-aged red-haired woman.

  “Hello,” said the woman. “My name is Imelda Blucher. I had an unfortunate termination of my employment, and have been living with these ribhus for two weeks now. They are an admirable species, but increasingly they speak their own language, which I am told I can never learn. Also, as beautiful and graceful as they are, their body language is off, and I can never fully get used to it. I would dearly love to be back amongst my own kind, if you would have me.”

  “Miss Blucher,” said Calibri, “is someone that we owe a
debt to. If you have no place amongst you for her, she can of course stay with us. She is, however, surprisingly resourceful. For a human.”

  “And what,” said Mahalanobis, “did you do before, Miss Blucher?”

  “I, um, managed a moderate sized industrial facility.”

  “Splendid, if true,” said Mahalanobis, “I suppose we could give you a trial run and see if you could be of use. Brother Adenour, would you be so kind as to see that Miss Blucher is escorted down below?”

  “Certainly,” said Adenour. He offered his hand to Blucher. “If you would come with me?” He led her off down a corridor and out of sight.

  “In this case,” said Calibri, “we only number 56.”

  “Ah, you previously counted the human woman amongst your numbers. I do appreciate precision. Tell me, do your kind drink alcoholic beverages of any kind?”

  “No. We metabolize ethanol too fast for it to affect our nervous systems, and it’s too inefficient as a primary foodstuff.”

  “Ah. A pity, perhaps, but also a blessing. I don’t know how our brotherhood could endure if we ran out of red wine.”

  14. The Great Underground Empire.

  “Patience is a virtue, but too much patience is an indulgence.”

  - Anonymous.

  “So you are Librarians? Then why are you all so heavily armed?”

  “We have found that armed Librarians have a longer life expectancy than unarmed Librarians. Besides, it suits us.”

  Brother Mahalanobis of the Librarians Temporal was walking through the old subway station with Imelda Blucher. He was wearing his embroidered red robe and open sandals, with the book-and-sword emblem of his order on a thin cord around his neck. On his right hip was a faded brown leather holster holding his large eight-cylinder revolver. Blucher wore gray scrubs and dirty white tennis shoes.

  “I suppose it does,” said Blucher. “You seem to have done well for yourselves down here. Do you really think that the central administration will stop going after you? Especially now that you are harboring the ribhus; they must be able to track you.”