by P. R. Adams
Rimes let out a short, self-loathing snort. “Like I said, too trusting. She told me she would never marry until she had her career where she wanted it, and even then, she wasn’t really the marrying type. When I talked about breaking up with her, she told me she might change her mind. Then, when we got into the Q course…” He shook his head. “It was all business with her, always.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Some things never change.”
Meyers straightened slightly. “Marietta exit. Three more after it.”
“Got it.”
Meyers’s brow furrowed. “Did she not come along because you didn’t trust her or because she turned you down?”
“Does it matter?”
The Marietta exit flew past.
We’re going to make it. Even after all that’s happened, they still haven’t figured out how to run security. You’d think they’d be at least a little suspicious by now.
“Well, yeah, Jack. We need every capable body. This is the final deal, isn’t it? We screw this up, there’s no second chance.”
“I told you, it’s about trust.” Another exit flew past, and Rimes decelerated. He shook his head, frustrated. “She knew things. Going a long way back, she knew things, and she didn’t share them. People died because she stayed silent.”
The second exit passed. Meyers shifted in his seat. Kennesaw approached with a crushing inevitability, a staggering imminence that drove the air from the cab. Rimes braked again, and the hauler decelerated enough to pull them forward. Its energy spilled out in its wake. Gears shifted noisily, sending spasms through the cab. Rimes drifted to the right, triggering the turn signal.
“Tell me again about Ladell,” Meyers said.
“What about him?”
“What’s he doing?”
“I told you, Lonny, he’s—” Rimes stopped, sensing the trap.
Meyers tried to suppress a smile, but it sneaked through.
“All right. Operational security be damned. No more keeping secrets. That’s what you want? Everything out in the open?”
“Yeah.”
The hauler began its descent down the ramp, its brakes sending tremors along the vehicle’s length. Rimes watched the road, foot lightly pressed against the accelerator. During the entire trip, the tires had managed the cratered interstate remarkably well. They were approaching smaller roads now, roads that hadn’t seen the slightest maintenance in years. The tires were about to face the real test.
He turned left onto McCollum Parkway and accelerated again. He was cautious, testing, gently pressing the pedal forward. The hauler began to bounce and tremble. Its long-ignored suspension groaned and squealed bitterly. Rimes eased off on the accelerator until he sensed an equilibrium between speed and damage. He looked back to check on his men and the cargo. He opened a channel to the entire team.
“Everyone okay?”
Gwambe laughed. “Reminds me of home, Colonel.”
The others joined in the laughter but did little else to indicate how they were holding up. It had to be a rough ride, but there was no other choice.
A few minutes more. He muted the channel.
Over the grinding and groaning Rimes shouted. It was wordless, emotional, a sound made as much to be heard as to release the anger he felt at his own hypocrisy, necessary or not.
Meyers cocked his head curiously. “You okay?” He was shouting too.
“Ladell’s flooded their network with bots. It’s something he does better than anyone. You’ve seen him work. They’ve got no comms; they’ve probably lost their security systems, and I’m betting they aren’t even aware of it.”
“All right.”
“Whatever’s getting through their systems, he’s letting it through. He’s in control. It’s chaos he’s stirring up to get them away from this area. We need every edge he can manage. I told him that.”
“And the genies? How do you know they’re still alive?”
“Ladell’s with them.”
Rimes braked as a long-abandoned runway came into view on his left. He swung the vehicle right at Barkley Service Road and edged the accelerator forward again until the vibrations returned to familiar levels.
“We don’t have our armor. The BAS you two managed to load up is only as good as the equipment we took off their corpses. You know and I know there’s not enough weaponry in the world to overcome the odds we’re up against.” Rimes looked at Meyers meaningfully. “Not conventional, anyway.”
“What’s that mean, Jack? We’re in the middle of a city of twenty million. Twenty million civilian noncombatants. Even using conventional weapons is a stretch here.”
“It means we’re taking risks. It means things could go terribly wrong. That’s the nature of war. You know that.”
“I thought you said that was behind you. This can’t be about what they did on Plymouth.”
“Really?” Rimes glared at Meyers. “If Kara were here, would she say that? You’ve seen what we’re up against. Probably close to two hundred security, dozens of guard dogs, gunships, who knows what sort of weapons…”
“There are rules of war.”
“You said it yourself, Lonny. This is the real deal.”
“There are kids at that academy, Jack. Kids. Like your boys.”
They were approaching the Barkley Complex, the Future of America, and the Kennesaw Advanced Academy for Learning.
Building Leaders for Tomorrow.
Meyers looked agitated. The agitation worsened as they passed the signs. Meyers twisted around to see the signs again, as if he needed to be sure the signs were real. After a moment, he straightened in his seat.
“One hundred kids, Jack.”
“I know.”
Perspiration beaded on Rimes’s forehead.
Meyers leaned in as close as the seatbelt allowed. “Innocent kids. They’re not part of this war.”
“I know.” Rimes clenched the steering wheel tighter. His arms were steel: unbreakable, unmoving.
“We can’t become the enemy, Jack.” Meyers slid his pistol out of its holster.
Rimes stared straight ahead, unblinking. “I know.” His voice was barely a whisper as he braked and turned into the academy’s entry lane.
“Jack—”
Rimes swerved to avoid a bus as it entered the lane from the parking circle centered at the building front. Children sleepily climbed aboard a second bus as the hauler came to a stop and idled. Moments later the second bus pulled past. Little children pressed their faces against the windows, watching, wondering.
Rimes watched them go by. “An evacuation. Barlowe’s doing.”
“You should have told me.” Meyers lowered his pistol.
“It’s about trust, Lonny.”
Rimes looked skyward. Jared. Calvin. Soon, babies. Soon.
44
16 June, 2174. Kennesaw, Georgia.
* * *
Rimes crouched low against the lip of the academy roof. Thick clouds had scudded in during their drive, blocking out most of the moonlight and bringing with them more wind and humidity. The wind had died off, leaving the air deathly still, but he could feel the coming storm—the hairs on the back of his hands rose, a strange, metallic sensation in his mouth.
The storm had settled over Kennesaw.
After taking a moment to calm himself, he peeked over the cover of the wall at the SunCorps complex, focusing first on the tower at the center, then on the eight buildings that made a cross. The four southern and western buildings were completely visible—concrete, the inner buildings windowless. Although the northern and eastern buildings were only partially visible, what he could see mirrored the western and southern buildings. Looming ominously above them all, Tower One stretched toward the sky.
“Colonel?”
Rimes looked back to where Gwambe and Trang were assembling the mortars, their efforts producing soft scrapes and clanking.
Gwambe held up three fingers. “Just a few more minutes.”
/> Rimes nodded. “Banh, Dunne, status?”
“Two rooms to go,” Dunne said.
A moment later Banh said, “The academy is unoccupied, Colonel. We are clear.”
Rimes’s BAS display showed a video feed coming in from Dunne.
“Video should be to you in a second.” Dunne made a clicking noise when the upload was complete. “There you go!”
Rimes combined their recordings with the existing imagery and data to construct a usable wireframe for the BAS, shared it amongst the team, and then looked to the door that opened onto the roof. Dangler signaled he had the basic triage station ready. The limited medical supplies he’d stolen from Sutton District Hospital the night Rimes collected him were laid out in an orderly fashion. It wouldn’t amount to much in a serious firefight, and he warned the others as much. No one seemed the least concerned.
Rimes checked the video feed from Meyers, who was focused on the primitive tools he’d set out on the hauler bed next to the UAV crates, then opened a private channel. “Lonny, how’s it going?”
“After all the combat field work I’ve done, I’m pretty used to crude tools, but fuck if this isn’t a new low. Two of these birds aren’t going to make it.” He pointed at two UAVs with circuit cards exposed. “They were fragile to start with. But now…”
“Do what you can.”
“I did.” He patted the third UAV. “This old Horus is all we’ve got. Those other two were newer models, but they weren’t much better. The Horus is way past its prime, but it can do the job. What about you?”
Rimes chuckled. “Way past my prime. That’s all I’ll say.”
Meyers activated the Horus’ controls and watched it lift from the hauler bed. “It’s gonna give off a good bit more heat than those newer models would have, and it’s significantly louder, but its optics are more varied and capable. Since most advancements have focused on longer flight times and noise reduction, there are only a couple of the highest end systems out there that can match the video we’ll get back.”
“Good. Video’s going to be more important.”
“Look, Jack, about that thing on the drive down, I—”
“You did the right thing.”
“I just can’t…” Meyers cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have testified against you if they’d, y’know…”
“I know.”
“But it’s different here. We’re on Earth. We’re surrounded by innocent people.”
“I don’t know if anyone can really say they’re innocent. What’s going on right now wouldn’t be possible if people weren’t so complacent.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not saying it justifies anything, Lonny. I’m just saying that innocence is…” Rimes shrugged and sighed. “Just the kids, okay? The rest of us have to take responsibility for all of this.”
Instead of responding, Meyers sent the Horus out from the academy and the SunCorps complex. “I’ll let the team know we’ve got an eye in the sky.”
“Thanks.”
Meyers pulled on the full environment mask that completed his uniform and almost immediately began cursing about its smothering, claustrophobic fit. After a few moments, he joined the open channel and let everyone know the Horus was ready for action.
“Wait for my signal, Captain,” Rimes said. “Once it’s overhead, join us on the roof.”
Rimes glanced over the wall again. He had two rangefinders, one an extremely accurate laser, the other a glorified UV sniper scope. He swept the complex grounds with the sniper scope, slowly counting not just the number of guards but the distance each one had from the outlying buildings and from each other. The closest was over one hundred meters out from the buildings. No two groups were closer than a half-klick. The buildings were fifty meters apart edge-to-edge.
A signal sounded in Rimes’s headset. He listened until it sounded again.
“Meyers, get that Horus in position. Be quick about it. Let’s use the advanced optics. Two klicks up, five klicks out. Work him in slow once you get up here.”
Rimes felt his entire body clenching as Horus took to the air. The engines—already noisy—seemed amplified by the humidity and stillness. He monitored the closest pack of sentries, but only the dogs seemed to notice the noise, and their reactions were vague and unreadable. The sentries watched the heavens in response, and a continuous stream of distant lightning answered their curious gazes.
“Colonel, that storm will be on us soon,” Gwambe said. “We’ll lose visibility.”
The air reached a new level of stillness. Nothing moved. Even the bugs seemed to settle into the grass in anticipation.
“It’ll hold.” Rimes scanned the skies and blinked in amazement at the electrical display. “It’ll hold.” He sounded less confident.
“Horus in position.” Meyers was grunting, climbing the ladder to the roof. “Optics…online.”
Horus’ optics flooded their crude BAS system, initially overloading them, then filtering down the data stream to the essentials. The complex was a green glow with pockets of lighter and darker greens and pools of black. A thermographic overlay enhanced the image, bringing clarity to it.
“Something’s off with that thermographic feed.” Rimes could hear the anxiety in his voice.
Meyers edged to the roof, settling beside Rimes. Meyers examined the image curiously, then brought up Horus’ diagnostic interface. Everything checked out.
“Batteries are a little lower than I’d like this early on, but it’s working.” Meyers looked down at the pocket of sentries Rimes was focused on. “There’s something wrong with those dogs. Armor?”
“Androids. Why buy and take care of the real thing when you can use cheap knock-offs? Steven, Huy, work your fire from that group at three hundred meters in. Assume they’ll make for the inner southern building rather than the closest building.”
“Why would they do that, Colonel?” Trang asked. “Every second out in the open increases the odds of injury.”
“You saw Barlowe’s findings. This complex was built for biological research. The outer buildings aren’t airtight—the inner buildings and the tower are.”
Meyers tightened the seal on his helmet. “When you said unconventional warfare earlier what did you mean?”
“It’s already underway.”
Lightning flashed, bathing everything in an unearthly light.
Rimes adjusted his own mask, then fell back to one of the mortars. “Now, gentlemen.”
He pulled his mortar upright and locked it into place. From the nearby ammunition stack he pulled a fragmentation round and dropped it in the mortar tube. He ducked as the round triggered and launched. Gwambe and Trang followed suit. While Rimes focused on the sentries patrolling the western grounds, Gwambe and Trang fired on those in the nearer southern area.
Rimes brought up the laser rangefinder and spotted on the impact of his first shell. The mortar read the rangefinder input and adjusted. He reset the rangefinder and passed it to Gwambe to synchronize with his mortar.
With the mortar corrected, Rimes fired again. This time he lobbed a white phosphorous shell dead-center of the stunned sentries. The results were spectacular. Sentries dropped as bits of burning metal became embedded in their armor, threatening to melt through and into their skin.
“They’re releasing the dogs,” Meyers said.
“Corporal Dengler, have grenades ready for that stairwell, please. These dogs may or may not be capable of climbing. Let’s not wait to find out.”
The mortar fire continued unabated, pinning the southern and western teams down. At the northern and eastern perimeter the sentries began running toward complex center. Rimes adjusted, sighting ahead of the northern sentries.
“Switching to northern units.”
Another fragmentation shell launched, and he tracked its impact with the rangefinder. To his right, first Gwambe, then Trang shifted targets to the eastern sentries. In the distance, smoke plumes rose and hung in the choking air. As with t
he other two sentry groups, the northern and eastern teams released their dogs and dropped to the ground. When the incendiary rounds hit, Rimes imagined he could hear the sentries’ panicked screams. Lightning flashed again, even more intensely than before.
“Dogs,” Dengler said. “I can hear them coming up the stairwell.”
Rimes scanned the fences separating the Barkley Complex from the academy. There were no obvious breaches, so the dogs had leapt the barriers. The taller fence was easily three meters.
“Let them cluster a bit before you drop a grenade,” Rimes said. “Don’t wait too long, though. They cleared that fence. They might be able to leap up.”
The fusillade continued for another minute, with Rimes, Gwambe, and Trang switching back to their original targets, then again to the secondary targets. Eventually, the sentries were forced to crawl. Rimes saw a pair make for the southernmost building. He scanned the skies. He felt and then saw another flash of lightning, and closed his eyes to the outside world’s stimuli.
Immediately, Ji’s shuttle dropped from the cloud cover, tracing a course northeast to southwest across the complex. As it approached the buildings it decelerated. Canisters fell from its airlock, dropping in the general area of the outer buildings and the inner courtyard, bouncing around but not exploding.
Apparently encouraged after the botched attack, some of the sentries began firing on the shuttle. Their rounds bounced ineffectively off the hull.
As quickly as the firing had started, it stopped. Anywhere a canister had bounced or come to rest, nearby sentries fell, convulsing, backs arching.
“What the hell is that?” Meyers shouted.
“X-17. The last of it we know of after losing the Carolina.”
The sentries changed course, now running for the inner buildings and the tower. Ji’s shuttle passed overhead again, dropping more canisters in the center courtyard. Sentries suddenly pitched forward as they approached the tower’s doors. The rest turned back, running for the inner buildings. More sentries poured from the outer buildings, some teetering and collapsing into convulsions, others sprinting, holding their gas masks tight to their heads.
