Upon Stilted Cities - The Winds of Change

by Michael Kilman

  Roderick waited as the 8th and 9th nukes were attached to the city’s legs. A few more to go and then he would pull his troops back.

  Then something went wrong.

  Miss’s voice came in over the comm, the signal fragmented. “Commander... spotted us. Seven men... Confirmed that the.... 10th... leg. Should... detonate?

  “Repeat that Miss, I didn’t catch all of it.”

  “Signal... Under attack... Legs... Retreat...”

  “No! Don’t retreat. Finish the mission and then get out of there.”

  “Ten... pla... treating... distance. Gaia...”

  The signal evaporated. “AI, what’s happening out there?”

  “It appears that the Langeles Runnercore has discovered the leg team. Most of the team is dead. However, based on radiation scans, it looks like at least ten of the legs have a tactical nuclear weapon attached to them.”

  “And Miss?”

  “Her life signs are still strong. It appears she is back in her vehicle and moving away at high speed.”

  “Then start the detonation clock. Let the Core team know we’re moving as soon as the blast wave is clear.”

  “For detonation, a confirmation code is required.”

  “Of course. V638927SI.”

  “Thank you, Sir. How long would you like the countdown to run?”

  “How long will it take for the main force to get a safe distance from the blast zone?”

  “If they left immediately and put the Duggers at full speed, they could be clear in six minutes.”

  “Alert Patrick and the main force to disengage immediately.”

  “Unfortunately, Sir, Patrick Lions no longer has any vital signs.”

  Roderick grunted. That was quite a blow. He liked Patrick. How many decades had they fought alongside one another? Patrick had saved his life at Saud.

  Roderick sighed. “Fine, just alert the remainder of the main force. Set the countdown for fifteen minutes. Alert everyone at two-minute intervals. Any longer than that and we risk giving Langeles time to disarm some of the bombs.”

  “Acknowledged, Sir. Countdown to detonation is now at fifteen minutes.”

  It was a long fifteen minutes. Roderick passed the time watching the radar of his troops departing to a safe distance from the estimated blast zone. He watched nervously as more of the Langeles Runnercore seemed to be gathering around the legs. If they figured out what was happening... but Roderick knew it was too late, only six minutes remained in the countdown now, and there was no way they could disarm the weapons in time. Miss had planted the nukes at the upper third of the legs, only someone with her special skills could have easy access to them.

  “Four minutes remaining until detonation.”

  This was it. Roderick could feel a kind of giddiness pass over him. It had been a few hundred years since he felt so excited. The city would fall; their plan would work.

  “Patience, Roderick,” said a powerful and soothing voice.

  “Mother Gaia?”

  The voice was outside him but coming through him.

  “Yes, Roderick. You must have patience. Do not act out of haste now or there will be a heavy price to pay.”

  “Yes, my Goddess, of course. Forgive me. I am unable to prostrate to you in this vehicle.”

  There was no response.

  “Mother Gaia?”

  Still no answer.

  “Two minutes remain until detonation,” said the AI.

  What did Mother Gaia mean by “patience”? Did it mean that he would have to wait to assault the core? Did it mean that he should cancel the detonation?

  “Sixty seconds remaining until detonation.”

  A wave of panic washed over Roderick. He quickly reviewed the morning’s events. Had he overlooked anything? The AI began to count down the final thirty seconds. He smashed his fist into the steering wheel, and his anger burst forth at the same moment the bombs on the legs detonated.

  Roderick watched over his view screen as the distant blast drowned out all vision with a great blinding light. He wondered if all of his men had remembered not to look directly into that light. Through his periscope camera it was fine, but he doubted the EnViro suit helmets would shield them from blindness. A mighty roaring noise pressed itself against the ground and waves of sand and rock shifted above the Dugger. Thunderous fury.

  In the view screen, Roderick saw the city kneeling down toward the earth, like a man kneeling beside the dying body of a brother in arms. The west end sunk first, smashing into the hardpan of the barrens. Some skyscrapers broke in half and pieces scattered as they cascaded toward the ground. Tremors for each mass of concrete could be felt, even at this distance, when they returned to the earth from which they had risen. Then, finally, the rock slab of earth on which the city rested slanted up toward the sky, amongst the sand and gravel, and came to its final rest. A marker, a gravestone, a well-deserved end.

  Roderick forgot his rage and frustration, and words of the Mother. His cheeks pulled upward into a smile. His red cheeks, like red roses, surrounded by a sharp, toothy grin.

  Roderick opened a comm line. “The Great Mother has brought us to the brink of victory my brothers, but we must not tarry. Main force, resume your attack, mop up what’s left of the Langeles Runners. Core team, you are with me. CHARGE!”

  The vehicle vibrated violently, and the sand on top of the clear glass cockpit began to move and shake. As the vehicle moved up above the surface of the ground, Roderick’s view cleared. The vehicle lurched forward, its large, treaded, tank-like tires gripped like teeth in the earth.

  The Dugger gained speed, moving quickly toward Roderick’s final destination. He felt his heart beginning to pound. He was almost there. The outline of the city grew larger with every passing second, and in only a few minutes he would be on the outskirts of fallen Langeles.

  A proximity alert flashed in the vehicle view screen, and the AI spoke. “Warning, incoming projectile. Five seconds until impact.”

  Roderick looked down at his radar. He saw the red blip approaching the vehicle. He grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it left to avoid a direct hit, but it was too late.

  The RPG struck the ground just below the Dugger’s left rear tire and sent Roderick spinning through the air, rotating like a corkscrew. The vehicle connected to the ground in a series of long hops, and Roderick felt his right hand catch in the steering wheel. The sounds of tearing metal screamed through the air as the vehicle slid and came to a wrenching halt.

  Silence hovered. Only the wind dared to raise its voice. Tiny dust devils formed and spun and caught some of the smoke that gradually began to rise from the Dugger. Behind, the city of Langeles had caught fire.

  A cacophony of noise returned and Roderick, dazed from what was probably a concussion, pulled the emergency cockpit hatch release with his left hand. He reached up with his right hand to pull himself up and out of the cockpit, only to realize his hand wasn’t there. Confused, he looked down the length of his arm. A mangled stump of flesh, shredded muscle and bone oozed blood down the exterior of his EnViro suit. All Roderick could do was stare. No pain came to him, only shock and surprise.

  Where had his hand gone? Scanning the cockpit, he saw a metallic gauntlet still gripping the steering wheel. Bone and blood dripped at the end of the gauntlet. Roderick looked at his stump, then at the steering wheel, then back to his stump again. It felt unreal.

  It was the wrong hand. It had to be. It looked so small and frail. How could it be his? He glanced around another time but, seeing nothing, refocused his gaze on the steering wheel.

  Roderick stretched out his left arm and reached for the gauntlet. In his denial, he had thought it a simple matter to plug the hand back into the arm, like a robot or a child’s toy. He wrapped his hand around the gauntlet. He tried to pull the gauntlet from the steering wheel. It would not release. Then, he tried to pry one finger at a time off the wheel. No luck. He had heard of a death grip before but... he started to chuckle to himself bu
t the laughter caught in his throat. He almost choked on it. He cleared his throat and let a sliver of madness drive a fresh wave of laughter, and for a moment the sight of his ruined hand was a source of great humor.

  The laughter died as suddenly as it had come. Roderick turned his head out toward the burning city. There he saw someone standing only a stone’s throw away from him. It was a Runner, fully armed and in a combat-ready EnViro suit. He had a high caliber pistol aimed at Roderick’s face.

  If Roderick had looked up only a second later, it would have been the end of him. Without thinking, he threw the rest of his body out of the vehicle and rolled behind a solitary rock as the Runner opened fire. A few bullets sprayed the terrain. One of the Runner’s bullets ricocheted off the metal of the Dugger and smacked into the Runner’s shin armor. The impact forced him to fall to one knee. Roderick, seeing his chance, jumped up and reached down for his sidearm in his suit. His bloody stump mashed against the holster and Roderick screamed in pain.

  The scream further stunned the Runner. He dropped his weapon, falling backward onto his ass. Roderick reached across his body with his left hand. He struggled, grasping at the butt of the revolver from the awkward angle, and finally pulled his revolver from his holster. He aimed and fired until the clip was empty, his good hand shaking. One of the bullets struck home. A single hole opened in the Runner’s face shield, and behind it, blood splattered. The Runner rolled to his side, dead. His metal armor at rest, not unlike the city from whence he came.

  Roderick sat and slumped against the rock.

  “AI?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Are there any more surprises out here for me?”

  “No, Sir. I do not detect any more Runners in the immediate vicinity.”

  “How...” Roderick was starting to feel weak and tired. Blood dripped into his eyes from a small gash on his head. “How... are we doing... out there?”

  “My apologies, Sir, your inquiry must be more specific.”

  “Progress of... my... troops?” His breathing was slowing down and the lids of his eyes felt heavy. The head wound and the loss of blood from his arm were both a threat.

  “Sir, the Core team has penetrated the perimeter and the main force appears to be overwhelming the remains of the Langeles Runnercore. I calculate that you have an 87% chance of victory at this point.”

  “Good, good... How many dead?”

  “Exact figures at this time are difficult to calculate because of various reports on your troops and some conflicting data from the Langeles AI that I have intercepted. However, I calculate the total death toll at 1,752,892.”

  Roderick felt a pang of frustration. “No, ours. How many of ours are...”

  “Ah, I see. According to my sensors, there are 289 casualties.”

  Roderick struggled to make a quick tourniquet by tearing off some of the linings of the passenger seat. He pulled some gauze from the glove box and wrapped it on the end of the wound. With his teeth, he pulled the material as tight as he could. Then he pulled up the lining of his suit and tied it and wedged it in the hole where the gauntlet had been, in hopes to keep the suit sealed.

  Muttering more to himself than to the AI, Roderick asked, “Why was that Runner... out here?”

  The AI responded, “Standard drill deployment procedure requires that a city deploys four perimeter Runners in each of the cardinal directions. Runners are instructed to set up sensor beacons and report anything unusual.”

  “Why... didn’t he see us... earlier?”

  “My apologies sir, I do not know.”

  “Haste... Mother... sorry for my...” Roderick coughed. The remainder of his words caught in his throat. He closed his eyes.

  3.

  Roderick opened his eyes back in the present. He stood and turned, moving toward the wrecked Dugger. He pried open one of the cargo hatches and began to rummage through the medical supplies. He would have to review the morning events again later, but for now, he needed to tend to his arm. It took him a moment, but he found what he was looking for: an emergency flare, an antibiotic shot, some morphine, and an EnViro suit sealant patch. It was a damn shame he didn’t have a regen patch in the Dugger—they had them back at Atlantis base—but the flare would have to do.

  He dropped the sealant patch on the ground. He lifted the morphine syringe case up to his mouth and used both his teeth and his left hand to open the case. He grabbed the syringe out with his mouth and used his left hand to pull up the armored sleeve on his right arm. He injected it a few inches above the messy stump. It hurt, but the pain was minimal in comparison to the exposed nerves.

  “All right. AI?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “If I pass out, I need you to wake me immediately. Don’t let me fall asleep.”

  “As you wish, Sir.”

  The morphine acted fast. It didn’t block out the pain entirely, but it was manageable. Roderick winced in advance. He knew what was coming next.

  He pressed the trigger on the flare. The short flames sputtered and licked the sky at various heights. Sparks flew. He braced himself as he brought his left hand toward his right arm.

  Roderick thrust the blue flame onto his stump and screamed, a scream that carried across the kilometers. A war cry of pain and victory. Roderick felt his body’s desire to lose consciousness; he fought it. A few more seconds and the wound would close, for now.

  Those last seconds were an eternity. He could bear it no longer. He turned off the torch. He injected antibiotics directly into the wound. Grimacing again at the pain, he withdrew his stump from the open spot in his suit. He picked up the sealant patch off the ground and placed it on the edge of the tear. He watched the sealant patch come to life and spread itself over the tears in his suit where his hand had once been. The pain eased. By morning, the wound would be well-scabbed. Though pain would be a long companion, the danger of infection was over-or at least long enough for Roderick to find an alcove.

  Roderick considered laying down in the back of the wrecked Dugger for a moment, then thought better of it. He had to be visible, had to contact his men. It was either that, or he had to find shelter before daybreak.

  Roderick reviewed the day again and again through the mirage of morphine. He knew it was unfortunate that Rocky’s virus required the city’s security codes to work properly. The Langeles codes had not been easy to obtain. Eleven cities remained, and Roderick could think of only one path to absolute victory, especially with a fifth of his force destroyed. Runner 17 was the key. If he wanted to destroy the rest of the cities, he would have to find him.

  Chapter 1

  Designation Runner 17

  “Activating Runner, Designation 17.”

  The AI's voice, muffled by the warm, gelatin-like padding of the greenish goop that surrounded 17’s body, echoed in his every cell. The lights of the Runner storage facility switched on. Flickering like a stuttering heartbeat, it pulsed against his closed eyelids. He was awake. He did not open his eyes. Not yet.

  A large claw slid under and around his alcove on the storage shelf. Pops and hisses marked a disconnection. Thrumming eardrums. The claw tightened. It lifted. It rotated. With the slow guidance of the machinery, the storage container shifted from its flat horizontal position to an upright standing position on the dock floor. As it stood stationary, the clear plastic of the alcove slid open from the bottom up. An avalanche of the stem cell, fusion-based gel escaped with increasing speed as the opening widened until it was man-sized.

  AI said, “Runner 17, step forward.”

  He obeyed, keeping his eyes closed; knowing from centuries of experience what came next.

  “Initiating cleaning sequence.” A metal arm with four shower heads descended from above, spraying water into every corner of 17’s naked body, washing away traces of the gel mixture from his dark skin.

  Eyes opened.

  “Initiating drying sequence.” The same arm that had bathed 17 with soapy water now blew hot air from its four adjustabl
e nozzles. The warm air felt good on his skin, and he stretched and rotated his shoulders. He tilted his neck from side to side, wiggled his square jaw, and rubbed his dark brown eyes. Then, he reached back and wrung out his thick, long, black hair. He removed a hair tie from his middle finger and braided it.

  “Runner 17, please proceed through exit tube 8c for your pre-run inspection. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”

  “What? No baby powder?”

  “Baby powder is not part of the standard Runner activation procedure.”

  “Yeah, well, it should be. Coming out of those damn alcoves is a little too much like being born. Next thing I know, you'll shove a thermometer up my ass.”

  AI hesitated for a moment. “Runner 17, please proceed through exit—"

  “–or I'll be disciplined. Got it. Can’t they install humor? I’m getting tired of the same old schtick. I want new material.”

  “AI customization options are disabled in the Runnercore Activation procedures. For all complaints and concerns—"

  “Alright, I will go through the damn tube. Jesus Christ.”

  17 yawned and walked toward the long, tube-like corridor leading to the Runner Docks. He scratched the stubble on his long face. Behind him, several other alcoves in the storage area were coming to life. He glanced back to who the AI was unboxing.

  “AI, why are you unboxing 875 and 913? You know they’re just going to get themselves recycled.”

  AI repeated itself. “Runner 17, please proceed through exit tube 8c for your pre-run—"

  17 shut tube 8c’s door behind him. He couldn’t stand the activation AI. It was so stiff. It was no way to wake up.

  The briefing screen switched on and followed him down the length of the tube as he walked. He noticed the date, April 4th, 1291 AC, 6:30 p.m. He'd only missed a few months this time. Time was funny in there. The screen displayed his mission. He stopped and glanced at it.

  “Basalt and Quartz, huh? Sounds like a real rollercoaster ride. AI, why is there a particular location marked here?”