The Apostates Book Two: Remnants

by Lars Teeney

  “Hey Jaspar, do you notice that?” Greta asked.

  “Notice what?” he asked.

  “Only three passenger liners—there should be four,” she remarked.

  “You’re right,” he acknowledged, “I’ll ping my mother and see what happened.” He was silent for a moment as he sent a hail from his neural implant. It appeared to the others that he got an answer, as he spoke to the air.

  “How are you? I am glad I will see you soon, mother—yes what? You what?” Jaspar’s face went from a glowing smile to a dour look, “That is—I can’t comprehend—I’m sorry!” he said. Greta extrapolated that there was no good news to report. She tugged at Craig’s arm and suggest they take a walk while Jaspar finished talking to his mother, Elsa.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Jaspar had walked to the end of the pier after he had ended the communication with his mother. Greta approached him.

  “What’s going on?” she asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “You should ask my mom,” was all he said, without turning to her.

  “Oh—kay. I will,” she said, receiving the message. She continued on to the pier where the Bilsby Fairy liner had been moored to. She waited as a multitude of teaming masses came streaming out of the vessel. They had been well-provisioned and well-quartered, but they come from squalor with very little in the way of property, so the result was a revolting stench that wafted past as Greta stood by. Soon the refugees had been offloaded and the crew came filing out. Then, she saw Elsa walking down the gangplank, accompanied by her retinue and Meriwether Wynham, her other son. When she approached Elsa, Meriwether took the hint and departed. Elsa flashed Greta a solemn smile.

  “Elsa! Hi! You’re safe—what happened out there?” she asked, embracing Elsa.

  “It is good to see you, Greta...oh, it was horrible,” Elsa said, but paused. choking up.

  “Tell me...” Greta pressed. Elsa wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “I don’t know where to begin—despite all our security—we were caught completely off-guard. Everything was routine until we were several days from West Europa,” she had to recompose herself for a moment.

  “All of a sudden everyone on the fleet was pinged at once. A group broadcasted a message wide. They said that the Reverend Wainwright had appeared to them and told them of the truth of what transpired when New Megiddo City was destroyed. They called the Apostates, ‘butchers of the Virtuous’, and proclaimed the Reverend would return with the True Messiah. Then, they detonated massive quantities of explosives on the Bilsby Princess. It happened so fast that we couldn’t organize a proper rescue effort. The ship went down in minutes! I have no idea how they were able to smuggle so much explosive material on board and how they knew where to plant it to make the ship go down so fast! It was like they had the schematics for the ship—” Elsa began to cry. Greta tried to comfort her.

  “It’s okay! You made the crossing, you brought all these people safely across the ocean—you helped them,” Greta offered.

  “W-we lost four thousand, five hundred in that ship. I promised them a new life in West Europa!” Elsa raised her voice and cried, “My reputation—the Neo Railroad’s reputation is tarnished!” she continued.

  “Look, it is not your fault. We were at war, and it appears that war is not yet over!” Greta tried to console her.

  “I was not—at war, nor was the Neo Railroad! I left Graham because his obsession with bringing down the Regime consumed his entire life! But, I certainly wasn’t going to turn him in! All I ever wanted was to help people—but, MY family caused this catastrophe!” Elsa practically screamed. Greta could offer nothing this time. Elsa spoke the truth. Greta had wrestled with the concept herself that the entire Apostate uprising had not been worth the cost in life, and that now forces were brewing—threatening to increase the cost beyond calculation.

  “Sometimes, it’s best to leave the genie in the bottle,” Greta thought to herself.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Maintenance crews had worked all through the night to clean the Bilsby passenger liners, to refuel and resupply all ships, and to sweep the fleet for any signs of planted explosives. Jaspar Wynham had stayed up to supervise the effort, keeping a wary eye out for infiltrators. In the morning, the fleet was ready to make the journey back to America. Greta had packed and had retrieved her son, Amerigo, and the drone that carried him. She had second thoughts about taking him but decided that she could not live away from him for an unforeseen amount of time.

  Craig a Briuis was also prepared to board the ships of the fleet, and so the crews performed the last checks and prepped for shove-off. Elsa reluctantly boarded the Bilsby Fairy once more, war-weary as ever. She hoped that this voyage would be smooth sailing. Greta knew that across the sea awaited a brewing storm, that threatened to destroy all they held dear and presented the possibility of swallowing all, friend and foe, in its wake. She took her place on the bridge of the North Carolina, finding it strange to be back on a former United States Navy battleship after so much time on land. She wondered if she still had it in her to captain such a vessel again or was it like riding a bike: once you learn you never forget? Greta noticed that the North Carolina’s targeting and navigation systems had been upgraded by Neo Railroad engineers, on the specifications that Marco Havenscent had devised for the Iowa battleship before it was sunk. To Greta’s surprise, she settled back into the role quite well, once her biometric data was added to the list of authorized users of the North Carolina’s network. Her retinal H.U.D. integrated seamlessly with the systems of the battleship. Soon, she was helping to guide the helmsman out to sea via the ship’s visual sensors.

  After much waiting and maneuvering, the battleships of the Apostate fleet formed a protective picket line around the passenger liners and support craft. The fleet was now underway, sailing out into the vast waters of the English Channel.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  It had not taken long for word to travel back to Chinese Command that an entire regiment of their soldiers had been wiped out. Despite the lead that the ‘L.O.V.E.: S.O.R.E.’ team had, and the advanced weaponry they wielded, they were still traveling by foot through hostile, winter weather. Sergeant a Briuis had done his utmost to mask his team’s movement and keep their pace constant, but it had not been enough. They had been caught in a valley, some twenty miles from the massacre site. Sergeant a Briuis’s team was down two men. An entire Chinese division pursued the ‘L.O.V.E:. S.O.R.E.’ team and the advanced guard had caught up with them, intent on revenge for the slaughter of their comrades. The ‘L.O.V.E.: S.O.R.E.’ team took refuge in a thick grove of trees and set up a defensive perimeter.

  “Herpes Three! get the remainder of your mines deployed on the left flank now! You are going to have to hold it! Godspeed!” Sergeant a Briuis barked.

  “Sir! I’ll do what I can!” Private Jones replied.

  “No, you’ll hold it, damn you! We’ll get through this!” Sergeant a Briuis tried to reassure them, “Herpes Two! You and I hold the center, Herpes Five and Six, the right flank is yours! Make all your shots count!” With that, the team members took their positions amid the large tree trunks, boulders and snow banks. Sergeant a Briuis was certain that they were being tracked via satellite because even though they were hidden from view the occasional bullet and mortar round hit near their position, digging up the snow around them. Chinese half-tracks were inbound across an open meadow and behind them were columns of soldiers struggling through the deep snow. Sergeant a Briuis had collected Corporal O’Leary’s M82 anti-material rifle, after Sergeant a Briuis had killed him, and now he was going to put it to use.

  Sergeant a Briuis supported the rifle’s tripod atop a large boulder and took aim, using the thermal scope. Many of the soldiers were formed up in lines behind the advancing half-tracks for cover, but ever now and then a straggler would stumble in the snow or would break formation. He took aim and squeezed the trigger, sending the round down range, which cored out a poor Chinese soldier�
��s cranial cavity, leaving a spread of red snow behind him. The Chinese soldiers yelled warnings of sniper fire and they fell prone into the snow. Another of their number was claimed by Sergeant a Briuis’s weapon. The confusion spread among the ranks of the Chinese lines. A commander opened the hatch to encourage his men forward. A split-second later, the Chinese commander was slumped over the side of the half-track, several inches shorter. Several more soldiers fell to Sergeant a Briuis deadly accurate fire. The half-tracks began to fan out in order to complete a double flanking maneuver, and the infantry advanced slowly while prone, every now and then an exposed limb or head would be reduced to a fine, red mist by Sergeant a Briuis’s hand.

  “Herpes Five, do you have you mortar ready?” Sergeant a Griuis prodded.

  “Affirmative, enemy in range, fire in the hole!” Herpes Five yelled. He had previously set the range, and he dropped the shell into the hollow, rifled tube of the Wynham Industries model, ‘Templar’ mortar, the propellant was ignited and the shell was sent screaming into the sky, following a parabolic trajectory. The shell landed within the Chinese lines, dredging up, snow, soil, and severed limbs to distribute them liberally. Screams and cries dying echoes through the valley.

  ”Herpes Five! An armored spearhead is trying to flank you! Target them with your mortar!” Sergeant a Briuis ordered in a growling voice.

  “Yes—sir! Okay—redeploying the mortar—setting range!” Herpes Five replied nervously. The redeployment of his mortar took precious seconds of firing time away. He sent shells flying toward the advancing half-track. One near miss sent melted snow and mud careening everywhere. Another round hit to the rear of the lead vehicle, sending shrapnel into the windscreen of the half-track behind it, cracking the glass but not doing much damage. The third, shell scored a hit on the lead vehicle’s hood and cab. The explosion bit into the front seat of the half-track, killing the driver and causing the vehicle to stall. The stalled vehicle halted the flanking force, dead in the snow. Herpes Six joined in the counterattack by using his ‘Zealot’ assault rife’s grenade launcher to lob deadly projectiles toward the stalled-out enemy. Several enemy infantry who took refuge among the half-track become casualties, falling to Herpes Six’s grenade assault.

  The rear half-tracks in the right flank attack force swerved around the stalled lead vehicle and continued advancing. Now the hastily prepared ‘L.O.V.E.: S.O.R.E.’ right flank was within range of the half-track’s fifty caliber machine guns, which opened up, chewing up the ground and snow around Herpes Five and Six. Herpes Five had to halt firing on his mortar and take cover. The Chinese infantry used the suppressive fire to advance at a rapid pace, as much as the deep snow would allow. Seeing this, Herpes Six stood up, letting out a hail of fire loose from his ‘Zealot’ rifle, picking off one, then two, then three advancing enemy soldiers. The fifty caliber guns on a half-track trailed his movement with bullets that didn’t quite find their mark. Herpes Six rushed toward the half-track, took aim with his grenade launcher and landed a projectile into the face of the gun operator, blowing the man and weapon to pieces. Herpes Six pushed forward. Upon seeing this, and realizing the enemy’s suppressive fire had let up, Herpes Five raised his ‘Zealot’ rifle to assist the one man assault of Herpes Six. He picked off three Chinese who had nearly flanked Herpes Six. Herpes Six had closed the gap to the wounded half-track when suddenly his armor was raked with automatic fire from a soldier who had crawled out of the top hatch of the half-track. Herpes Six’s armor had absorbed the damage, and he jumped onto the hood of the half-track, and at point-blank range, dispatched the Chinese soldier with a controlled burst of fire. The dead soldier’s body sank back down into the hatch from which he had emerged, and Herpes Six pulled the pin from a plasma grenade and then lobbed it down into the half-track. Men screamed in Mandarin, desperately, in an attempt to flee the vehicle, but the detonation ensured that the half-track would become their steel tomb.

  Herpes Five noticed the brave and reckless one man assault that Herpes Six was executing like some ancient Germanic Berserker reincarnated for the modern battlefield. He started his mortar barrage once more, sending arcing shells to explode in the infantry line which was attempting to put an end to Herpes Six’s rampage. Herpes Six rushed another half-track, and caught a fifty caliber round in the joint of his armor at the shoulder, which spun him around and dropped him to the snow, but he wasted no time climbing to his feet and closing the gap. He ignited the plasma bayonet attached to his ‘Zealot’ rifle. With hefty strokes made with the bayonet, he opened up the side armor of the half-track like a sardine tin, then, he lunged inside, to carve through the meaty contents with only the sound of small-arms fire, battle-cries, and death-rattles to clue in any observers on what was transpiring within the half-track. Herpes Five scanned the half-track through his scope, waiting for a sign from his comrade to emerge.

  “Herpes Six, do you copy? Herpes Six?” Herpes Five frantically tried to raise him, with no response, “Herpes One—this is Herpes Five! Herpes Six is not responding—scratch that! There he goes again!” Herpes Five revised his report when he saw Herpes Six emerge from the other side of the half-track after he had carved his way through the armor. He watched as the man shook off two Chinese soldiers who tried desperately to stop the killing machine, clinging to his armor, he dispatched them with his plasma-bayonet.

  Meanwhile, on the left flank, Herpes Three—Private Jones waited patiently for the Chinese infantry to reach the kill zone. She thought of her family’s rich military heritage. Mostly of all, her direct ancestors had been war heroes of some sort, going right all the way back to Private Bart Jones, who was killed serving on the Iowa battleship, in the Pacific theater of World War Two. She figured that this would be her finest hour, fighting against impossible odds in service to her country. However, she was forced out of her nostalgic vision with a few bullet impacts close to her position. It was a reminder that the enemy was bearing down on her. Soon, the enemy infantry reached her network of concealed Claymore Mark Six mines. She willed them to detonate with her neural implant. The resulting surge of ball-bearings spread out with devastating speed, snuffing out life where they had impacted into human figures. She confirmed that an entire platoon of men had been put out of action by her mines. Herpes Three did not waste time on celebration as she brought her ‘Zealot’ to bear and dropped targets, one after another. But, the human wave tactics of the Chinese seemed unstoppable, as many as she dispatched, three more came forward. At this point, growing desperate, Herpes Three began lobbing grenades out rapidly using the launcher attached to her rifle, within dangerous range to herself. Chinese soldiers fell left and right being peppered with white-hot plasma grenade fragments. She ran out of grenades for her launcher, and fell back to thrown grenades, then frantically fired off controlled bursts to put down the enemy soldiers that were right on top of her.

  “Herpes One! Herpes One, I need immediate assistance—close contact fighting—going to be overrun!” she shouted, as she plunged her plasma-bayonet through the torso of a soldier who attempted to tackle her. A soldier isolated Herpes Three in his sights and fired off a volley with his antiquated bolt-action rifle. She was struck in the back and knocked off balance into the snow. Herpes Three struggled to bring herself back to her feet. The Chinse soldier who had shot her, lunged at her with his bayonet, but was soon missing his face as he was struck by a round from Sergeant a Briuis’s anti-material rifle, but that was all the support he could offer as the center itself was being overrun. Herpes Three regained her bearings, and then leveled her rifle to acquire new targets, but then was set upon from three different directions at once. Chinese soldiers thrust their bayonets at her, but her armor held. She returned a thrust with her plasma-bayonet which melted the core of one man and severed the arm of another. She grappled with a third man, and still a fourth and fifth soldier fired their rifles at her, but still her armor absorbed the damade. Herpes Three managed to throw the soldier she fought to the ground and then jumped atop him an
d drove her bayonet through his eye socket. But, her victory was short lived when the Chinese half-track caught air off of a deep, monolithic snowbank, that looked to be moving in slow motion as she looked up to see the underside of the chassis, filling the sky and blocking out the clouds. Then everything went dark as the half-track moved forward smashing her armor and body like it was roadkill under a car tire.

  “Herpes Three! Herpes Three? Shit! She’s gone! Herpes Two, you have the center, I’m taking the right! Good luck!” With that Craig a Briuis moved off to meet the advance on the left flank. As he moved he took shots with the M82 anti-material rifle, putting down more foes. Finally, he was out of rounds for the anti-material rifle so he cast it aside, and brandished his ‘Zealot’ rifle, firing off controlled burst and moving rapidly toward the half-track that dispatched Herpes Three. He ignited his plasma-bayonet, jumped up onto the side of the half-track, and thrust it through the driver’s port window, skewering the driver. The half-track ground to a halt. Craig a Briuis bounded up the half-track, but the operator of the fifty-caliber machine gun turret was able to fire off shots which struck his ‘Zealot’ rifle, smashing it. Craig dodged, then pulled his Claymore sword from its sheath, and lunged, thrusting the tip through the man’s throat. he pushed the dead body off away from the turret. Looking behind the half-track he gazed upon numerous infantry and another armored half-track advancing upon him, so he swiveled the machinegun turret around and opened up on the Chinese forces.

  On the right flank, Herpes Six was still wreaking havoc among the Chinese lines. Herpes Five moved up, following the trail of bodies he had left in his wake, leading back into the sea of white. Soon, he heard the sounds of battle, grunts, gunshots, screams, and bloodletting. Herpes Five laid eyes upon Herpes Six, who was dispatching Chinese soldiers by hand with the plasma-bayonet, when, out of the white haze, a half-track materialized behind him.