by Julian North
“The proof must be there, out in the ocean, on that platform,” I pronounced with more certainty than I felt. I wanted it to be true. I needed the answers to be there, so I could do something about this terror.
“There are soldiers on the ground, Uncle,” Rhett said. “The first v-copter had US army markings. The second was Georgia National Guard. They are either working together or there’s going to be a fire fight. Neither is great for us.”
“Atlanta is quite a big place. Sprawling. Hard to get around except by v-copter. We’ll be safe enough here.”
“I’m not just going to sit here,” I told him. “Will you help us?”
Rudolph shrugged, as if my question was of no consequence. “I can tell you where the platform is easy enough. Not sure what else you expect me to do. That place is protected by warships and armed drones.”
“Don’t you have… well, soldiers or something.”
“Soldiers?” Rudolph laughed. “I run a company, miss. We’ve got some internal security men, plus my own personal detail, but they aren’t soldiers. They don’t have assault equipment. We use external contractors for other security needs, and they aren’t going to attack that platform, no matter what I offer them. No one is. The ships protecting it are military grade. But I can lend you Rhett. He’s handy with a pistol. Did his service—and the army taught him a few things.”
“We don’t need him.” It came out harsher than I meant it. His easy grin vanished. “I just need to get close…”
Alexander gave me a sharp look, but it was Rudolph who spoke. “If that place is what you think it is, they won’t let you get close.”
“They’re an extraction platform in the middle of the ocean,” I pointed out. “They must need supplies. Someone must be permitted to land there.”
“Less than you’d think,” Rudolph said. “If they are like most resource platforms, they’ll have fabricators on board. That reduces their need for most supplies.”
“What about water?” I asked.
Rudolph looked at me. “A major rig like that will have filtration and desalinization equipment—enough to produce drinkable water even with all the crap in the ocean these days. Their only real supply needs are complex equipment that cannot be fabricated, and energy, of course. Normally, the platform would burn the methane hydrate they are extracting. But if it really isn’t doing any drilling, then they will have huge energy needs—forgetting the people and equipment, fabricators consume huge amounts of energy.”
“Fuel deliveries? Is that how we get on board?” Nythan asked.
“I’ve gotten no reports of tankers moving to or from the platform,” Rudolph said. “They are getting their energy somewhere else.”
A frustrating silence descended. There had to be a way. And I knew what it was.
“How about a submarine?”
Rudolph rubbed his chin. “Those frigates will have sonar and other power sensors. And while I may have a submersible repair craft or two available, they are horribly slow, and they can’t do deep sea travel.”
“I know where we can get the equipment we need: a deep sea, floor-hugging prototype with the latest equipment. Absolutely revolutionary, I’m assured. The Gaia, it’s called.”
Nythan’s eyes grew wide. “You have a submersible at your disposal? Do Bronx City gangs run underwater smuggling operations now?”
Alexander had guessed what I was thinking. I sensed his disapproval even before I looked over at his frowning face. “Her father would never allow that. It’s not their family’s way. We shouldn’t ask or involve her.”
“She’ll do it if you ask her,” I said, trying to keep any bitterness out of my voice. “She said she wanted to help. Let her prove it.”
“Who are we talking about?” Nythan asked.
“Anise. Their family is in the geological surveying business,” I said. “Her father was bragging about their latest product. It hugs the ocean’s surface, any depth. Fast. Everything we need.”
“Except it isn’t ours.” Alexander’s jaw was set, his eyes troubled. There was something he didn’t want to say to me.
“Anise can tell us where it is. That will be enough.” I stared hard at him. He didn’t want to involve Anise. Why? Was it because he wanted to protect her? Damn him. “Let her decide. She’ll help us.”
“We would be asking… I would be asking her to betray her father, her family,” Alexander said. “Family means something among the highborn.”
I rolled my eyes. “Her father’s a braggart jack-A.”
“She didn’t pick her family.” Alexander’s voice dropped to something close to a whisper. “They could all wind up dead, Daniela.”
Deuces. I bit my tongue. He was right. Anise had tried to help me. And I was ready to throw her and her family to the wolves. She was a richie, but that was no excuse. I knew better.
To my surprise, Nythan spoke up. “If we don’t stop what is happening, a lot of other people could end up dead. People that Daniela and I care about.”
Alexander fixed cold eyes on him. “You don’t care a whit about Anise.”
Nythan nodded. “I’m no friend of Anise’s. But you could give her the choice. It’s not like she’s a child.”
Rudolph placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “You know, son, down these parts we all remember Stonewall Jackson, a great general in the Civil War. He fought hard; he was a believer. A real man of honor. Until he was shot by his own troops. It was an accident, but oh what a way to go after all the fighting and believin’ he did.”
“What is that story supposed to mean to me?” Alexander asked.
Rudolph smiled his ugly smile. “You decide. Maybe I just like to talk about southern generals. We get too much sun down here. Does things to the mind.”
“There is such a thing as too much honor, Alexander,” Nythan said. ”Let’s do what needs to be done.”
Alexander couldn’t bring himself to say yes, but he nodded, and that was all I needed. Anise said she wanted to be a part of this. Now she was going to get her chance.
“Now all we need to do is find a way to get to New York,” Nythan said.
An angry ripple of an explosion ended the conversation. We all strained to listen in the silence that followed. The noise hadn’t sounded close, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
“Rhett, take a look,” Rudolph said.
Another explosion followed before Rhett had taken a step.
Rudolph grunted without looking up. “There must be fighting in the city.”
“It’s spread here then as well,” Alexander said. “Civil war.”
Rhett reappeared at the kitchen’s threshold. “People are starting to wander out of their homes. With the net down, they are wondering what is going on. Some have guns.”
“Keep the windows drawn and stay sharp. Civil war or not, it won’t take long before the looters come out ’round these parts.”
Rudolph pointed a crinkled finger at me. “If there is fighting between federal and state troops in Atlanta, you can be sure that’s going on elsewhere as well. So, if you’ve got something that can help us stop that, help turn the tide, then you’d best get going.”
“It’s going to be dangerous getting into Manhattan,” Nythan said. “And it’s crazy for Alexander to go. Virginia’s going to have eyes out looking for him.”
“Anise won’t be in Manhattan,” Alexander said.
I arched a brow. “How do you know?”
“The Titan-Winds are survivors. You really think they are going to hole up in a city under siege? They have a place to bolt to, of course. Many of the wealthy do. People remember the Red Riots.”
“And you know where Anise is, of course?” I didn’t want to sound petty, but I did.
“Stone Harbor, New Jersey. There is a house there, built into the side of an artificial hill. It has ocean moorages, a landing pad, fabricators, private communication arrays. It’s close to their family’s research facility in Angelsea, but not too close to draw att
ention. Anise mentioned it was owned by some charity for tax purposes, so it’s hard to trace who owns it, but the family uses it regularly for vacation. It has special safe rooms for emergencies.”
“When were you there?” I asked, even though I shouldn’t have.
Rudolph cleared his throat meaningfully. “Miss, I’m not one to tell a lady her business, but it’s best not to ask questions you don’t really want answers to.”
Alexander looked at me with eyes that asked for patience. I sucked in a deep breath, knowing I was in the wrong here. None of this mattered right now, anyway. If Anise could help, and communications were down, that was where we needed to go.
“You can be sure my estate is being monitored, or it has been completely compromised already. Anyway, flying around in a Rose-Hart registered v-copter isn’t a great idea right now. I’ll lend you one of my razorFish. Faster and smaller than your v-copter. We use them to land on drilling platforms and supply ships.”
“It’s still one of yours,” I pointed out. “Virginia might be looking for you as well.”
“The transponder has been changed. The Titan-Winds aren’t the only people who plan ahead for emergencies. It’ll look like one of those fancy medivacs the life centers use to move rich patients around.”
“Swell,” Nythan said. “How do we get to your magic carpet aircraft? Or is it going to come pick us up.”
Rudolph pursed his lips. “That’s tricky. Too many drones around to risk flying into south Atlanta. Safest thing to do is wait here till the fighting dies down, then flee real casual.”
“How do you know the fighting will end anytime soon? Or maybe it will end because we’ve lost. You said yourself that Hoven wasn’t that kind of fighter,” I said.
“The alternative is to drive through south Atlanta in broad daylight while two military forces are duking it out, quite possibly in an effort to find you.”
Deuces.
“What kind of car do you have?” Nythan asked.
Rudolph laughed. “I’m beginning to like you, son.” He scratched his head. “I happen to have a decent relationship with some of the local muscle—the Southies, they are known as. They might be prevailed upon to provide some suitable transport.”
Alexander shook his head. “The Southies are a fallen political faction that have mostly moved into crime. They’re little more than a street gang these days. How can you trust them?”
“How do you know when to trust anyone, son? Why do you trust this pale gentleman beside you? He isn’t highborn. Neither am I, for that matter.”
“Nythan has shown himself to be… loyal. We have done battle beside each other. Your interest aligns with ours. Your reputation—”
“You were doing so well, till you came to that word: reputation,” Rudolph interrupted. “The first part was correct: experience and aligned interests. I’ve been working with the Southies for years. And our interests are very much aligned. Their reputation outside of South-A is that they are a bunch of disgruntled thugs, but in South-A, it’s the Southies who run things. They make sure everyone has gas for their generators to run their climate controls. My gas. Sure, they run illegal activities: gambling, smuggling, things the Orderists don’t approve of. But it’s all things people ’round these parts want. And it has been that way for years, son.”
“Why would you give away gas? And distribute it through a gang like the Southies?”
Rudolph slammed his hand onto the table hard enough to make the cutlery jump. “Because I’m from South-A. My mama’s skin was darker than Miss Machado’s over there. These are my people. The Southies are my people. Can you trust them? Maybe not. But I’m askin’ for a favor, and I think they’ll deliver. You all have got to choose. You’re welcome to stay here, as I said, if you prefer.”
Alexander pursed his lips. His face was as hard to read as ever, but his silence told me that he had been taken off guard by Rudolph’s passion.
“We’ll trust you and the Southies, Mr. Banks. Please get us out of Atlanta,” I said.
Chapter 28
Rhett went out to arrange our transportation. I insisted on going with him. Alexander did as well.
“I can handle myself,” Rhett assured me. I could tell he thought either one of us would’ve been a burden.
“Strangers are going to make it more dangerous for everyone. They know Rhett,” Rudolph said, and that was the end of it. Still, my gut ached. I didn’t want to owe Rhett anything. I didn’t want to get anyone else killed.
During the first hour of waiting, I paced the front of the house, peeking out each window. Rudolph pretended to be nonchalant, but I caught him glancing at the window several times. Outside, the sounds of fighting kept us on edge. Aircraft came and went overhead. The sharp buzzing of force weapons echoed in the air. As I made the thousandth circuit of the house’s tiny living room, a huge explosion rocked one of the gleaming duraglass towers of midtown in the distance.
Rudolph got up and looked outside. “That’s Peachtree Netcasting. It’s state government controlled. The federals must’ve hit it.” Rudolph shook his head. “It’s always about information. Trying to control what people know and think.” He sounded tired, disgusted.
We were still watching the smoke pour from the cylindrical needle of a building when a battered, human-steered ambulance arrived at the house. The markings on the outside said, “South Atlanta Medical Services, LLC.” Rhett was in the front passenger seat.
“The Southies run that company,” Rudolph said. “Serves the neighborhood. Their facilities are nothing fancy, but they can handle routine procedures and such. Locals are used to seeing people driving it, especially around here.”
“Not bad,” Nythan said. “An ambulance has a reason to be out on the streets, especially when there’s fighting. Best we’re going to be able to do.”
“Glad you approve, young man. Since you’ll be riding in it.” Rudolph slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s better if I don’t go outside. Too many drones watching. The rest of you, keep your heads down and move quickly into the vehicle. If you succeed in your mission, I’ll have a support ship waiting for you at the rendezvous point we discussed. Assuming we’re all still alive by then.”
He said the words lightly, but his scenario was ominously possible. If the entirety of the federal military went over to Virginia, President Hoven wouldn’t last long. There wouldn’t be anything to expose, no tangible resistance to organize.
“Thank you, Mr. Banks,” I said. “You’re a brave man.”
He waved a hand as if batting away my nonsense. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman, the way my momma taught me.”
I smiled. “She’d be proud of you, I think.”
His face darkened. “Maybe. I backed some wrong horses in my life. And I’m not just talking about my ex-wives. But I’m trying to do right with the days I have left. Soon it will be your fight, young lady.”
I shook my head. “I’m just trying to survive and keep my family and my people safe.”
“That’s how the best leaders get started.”
“Let’s go,” Alexander told me. He and Nythan were already at the door. I stopped at the threshold and looked over my shoulder at Rudolph. He gave me a weak smile. I wondered if this would be the last time I would see him.
A gruff mountain of dark muscle topped by a perfectly smooth oval-shaped head was driving the ambulance. His introduction and instructions were succinct: “I’m Mel. I’m driving. Don’t talk unless I tell you, otherwise you’ll end up dead.”
Rhett rode beside him, a short-barreled force rifle in his lap. I’d opened my mouth to protest his coming along with us, but Mel’s glare stopped my words cold. I settled back uneasily behind Mel’s seat, peeking around his massive form just enough to see where we were headed through the dirty front windshield. The way was grim.
The streets of South Atlanta were cluttered with trash. Businesses were hidden behind metal gates or barbed wire fences. Stacked cargo containers with crude windows cut in t
heir rusted bellies lined the smaller streets, sometimes crowding the roads down to a single lane. Dogs barked and curtains parted ever so slightly as suspicious locals gazed out from inside their dwellings. It reminded me of home. The skies were ruled by dozens of drones—mostly smaller surveillance models. No civilian dared to brave the streets.
We had driven for less than three minutes before we encountered soldiers. There were two men standing on opposite sides of an otherwise deserted intersection, each outfitted in an olive and beige military uniform with a United States flag emblazoned on one shoulder and a minuteman emblem on the other. Their heads were covered by soft-top helmets without vision goggles or net interfaces. Both were young, dark-skinned, and nervously fingering their long, bulky projectile rifles as they alternated watching the roads, the drones buzzing above, and the smoke rising from midtown. Georgia National Guard soldiers, I guessed. Federal troops would have more equipment.
Our ambulance attracted their attention—and suspicion. Four eyes and two rifles aimed at us. Mel slowed the vehicle, but only a bit. He kept looking forward, locking in on the closer soldier. Both rifles had a bead on us. The soldiers had their fingers on their triggers. Mel slowed the ambulance to a jogging speed, but he didn’t stop. He kept looking forward, kept staring into the nearest soldier’s eyes. I sank back, keeping myself below the window. Nythan and Alexander did the same.
“I got wounded in here,” Mel called out. “Bleedin’ bad, brother. She’s bleedin’ bad.” The ambulance wasn’t moving much faster than I walked, but Mel didn’t quite stop. I reached out with my mind for the nearest soldier. The cold power refreshed me, dulled my anxious thoughts, focused my mind. I realized that I had missed that strength. I was ready to strike if needed.
An explosion echoed at the edge of my senses. It was closer than the others had been. No more than a hundred yards away. The ground shook; the ambulance rattled.
“Get out of here,” the soldier said.
Mel poured on the gas. We sped through the intersection. A military transport rumbled past us as we neared the highway entrance—I couldn’t tell which side they were on, only that they were moving fast. Whatever their mission, it didn’t include bothering with us.
