Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  Rich leant back and repeated the procedure on himself. The reading was the same. Zero point zero zero. “Nanos should be operational in almost every human on the planet. There’s no reason for a failure.”

  Logan blew out a breath and leant back in his chair. This was big. The loss of nanos could cripple the world.

  He sipped at his coffee, staring at the display. “If they stopped working, it would be all over the news. The government would never let something like that happen.”

  “Not government,” Caspar said. “Governments, billionaires, royalty, corporations. The whole world is one community now, consolidated at the top by a minority. Nano use means there are too many people at the bottom and it’s only getting worse. The riots and violence are a result of curing disease, how’s that for irony? We’ve solved one problem and created another, now there’s going to be a correction.”

  “We have a plan,” Rich said.

  “And we need you,” Caspar added.

  Logan glanced up at the last comment. Chewing on his bottom lip as his mind spun with questions. “Hold on—”

  Caspar silenced him with a hand. “Since nineteen forty five the US government have been prepping. Yeah laugh at the preppers but your taxes have been paying for the government to do exactly the same thing. It’s COG planning – Continuation of Government. The ones we know of are obsolete or used as storage and archive facilities.” Caspar finally took a sip of water then bit into another cookie. He munched it down in three bites, washing it down with more water. “The real ones are secret.”

  “You remember Himrod salt mine?” Rich asked. His voice like rapid gunfire compared to Caspar’s measured delivery.

  “Vaguely,” Logan said, pausing to think. “Abandoned. I read an article about it once.”

  “We’re going to turn it into an emergency bunker,” Caspar said. “With your help.”

  For a moment Logan was stunned. They couldn’t seriously believe that an abandoned old salt mine could be turned into a survival bunker. It would take a decade to plan and install. He glanced between the two. Caspar sat without emotion waiting for a response. Rich rubbed his face, a half smile giving him an oddly triumphant look. Logan took a final mouthful of coffee, a sudden giddiness overtaking his emotions.

  “Good one, guys,” he laughed. “You got me.”

  “I’m serious. Caspar said. “It’s now or never.”

  “You two should know better,” Logan said. “Retrofitting a salt mine is close to impossible.”

  “Why?” Caspar asked. It was almost a whisper like an escape of breath. His face and body frozen, eyes locked on Logan.

  He stared back, searching for a break in Caspar’s expression. Rich gave a weak cough and moved his cup forwards on the table. For a moment Logan considered throwing them both out and going back to bed.

  “Where would we start?” Logan said. “We’d need lighting, power, airflow, temperature regulation, a shop full of supplies, and manufacturing equipment with capable staff. That’s just to live. Then we’d need food, water, sanitation and accommodation. Desalination is a complex technology. Even if we achieved the basics, salt would corrode machinery. It would poison then kill us. Not to mention living underground would drive everyone insane.”

  “I knew you were the man for this,” Caspar replied. He drained the remaining water in a sudden movement that broke the tension. “In one minute, you’ve summed up the project and outlined strategies to deal with problems.”

  “But what’s the point?” Logan said. “Anything is possible with adequate resource. Surely we haven’t reached the end.”

  “We can’t afford to wait for the end,” Caspar said.

  His words hung in the air around them, eyes burning with an almost religious fever. He chewed on another cookie. Rich nodded sagely in agreement.

  “No democratic government would sacrifice their people,” Logan said.

  “You saw what happened when a man of the people was elected. He lined his own pockets and split the country apart. Politicians would sacrifice their own families for survival,” Caspar replied, waving a cookie in the air. “They have no connection with the real world. They see us as cattle. Fed, clothed, worked, sheltered and entertained. No one with any power cares about you. That might be uncomfortable, but it’s true.”

  Logan shook his head, chewing on his lip. “We elect them to work for us.”

  “Elect them,” Caspar spat. His face more animated with every word. “Do you think we live in democracy?”

  “Caspar-”

  “Forget politicians. You know as well as we do that there are too many unexplained deaths and conspiracy theories. By the time we find out the truth it’ll be too late. We need to act now for the sake of our own families.”

  Logan looked across to Rich for help but he only gave that annoying half smile in reply. Caspar’s hand dug into the cookie jar and he pulled out three more. Stacking them in front of him.

  “You’re asking too much,” Logan said. He stood and walked back to the kitchen to pour three glasses of bourbon. “It’s an overwhelming project.”

  He set the glasses down a bit too forcefully and slumped back into his chair. This was beginning to feel like an argument with fanatics.

  “There’s more than the three of us,” Caspar said. “I’m gathering a team of professionals. Together we can make it work. Our family’s lives depend on it.”

  “Nano use has weakened our immune systems,” Rich said. “This country doesn’t have the resource to handle what’s coming. An epidemic. A pandemic. Zombies. Superbugs. Take my word for it. I see this shit every day.”

  “I’ve been piecing this together for years.” Caspar said, taking another bite of cookie and chewing slowly. “Nano failure was the final straw.” He walked over to the counter and refilled his glass. He slurped at it then bit into another cookie. “I’m deadly serious. We have to act now.” He brushed crumbs from his shirt. “So, are you in?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Engineering operations- power, filtration and so on.”

  “This is crazy.” Logan sipped at his bourbon and could barely taste it. “I can’t just . . .” He finished the glass and swirled the remnants round in the bottom. “Who else is involved?”

  “All will be revealed,” Caspar said. “You need to commit before we reveal the full plan.”

  “Al Fox,” Rich said. He closed his mouth after a look from Caspar.

  The doorbell chimed again.

  Outside, a soldier glowered at the house then marched back to the SUV.

  “I have a contact in the military,” Caspar said. “That’s how we were able to travel tonight. We haven’t got long though, our escort’s impatient to get back. What do you say?”

  Logan sighed. “I’m as worried as everyone else. So, I’ll check out what you’ve got, okay? But I’m not committing to anything.”

  “Naturally.” Caspar smiled as his fingers danced over his flexi screen. “The plans should be in your documents folder now.” He snapped the screen around his arm and wagged a finger at Logan. “No email or web searches on any topic. Have a look through the documents and we speak tomorrow. At the mine.”

  Logan ignored the invitation. “That’s my private folder. How the hell do you have access?”

  “It’s a red file so if accessed from any device it’ll disappear,” Caspar replied. “The mine tomorrow?”

  “I’ll see if I can get away.”

  “One more thing.” Caspar said, pointing at Logan’s arm. “Don’t wear that when you visit.”

  Logan looked down at his bio bracelet and sub consciously twisted his wrist in his hand.

  Caspar followed Rich out to the SUV and the waiting soldier. Logan shut the front door and leant against it, breathing hard and rubbing his eyes.

  Madness.

  He walked back to the kitchen and found his flexi by the bread bin. A red folder flashed in his private documents, titled ‘Himrod Saltmine'.

  T
he diagrams were fifty years old. No three-dimensional mapping or any substantial technical information. The mine was vast though. Miles and miles of excavated tunnels. Definitely big enough, even for ten thousand. A small town. Just need to keep the rest of the world out.

  They’ve won. Hooked me and got me looking at this crazy shit. He yawned and folded the flexi, sliding it onto the counter.

  Cate lay sleeping in the dark bedroom, her breathing gentle and even. Sliding under the sheets, she stirred and half-turned as he cuddled her.

  The mine plans played in front of his closed eyes. Then failing nanites. The downtown riot, last week’s terrorist attack in New York, the war in Korea, the attack on Australia. Logan shook his head and squeezed closer to Cate’s soft body.

  Chapter 3

  “Take cover,” a shout on the radio.

  The second blast sent a ball of expanding fire bursting from the street and lighting up the whole square. The left hand side of Delta’s line disappeared after fire and clouds of smoke swallowed them.

  Avery lay in a prone position, facing the destroyed court building. Ears ringing and eyes half closed with grit. She made a mental check of her body for injury. Cold slushy water seeped between gaps in her body armor, her throat was dry, but there was no pain.

  “Delta squad, back to Charlie two one,” she croaked, blinking to regain full vision.

  Delta moved back in a controlled retreat. A line of ragged soldiers shouting and screaming at each other. In front of the slow moving line, six troopers were dragging wounded on upturned riot shields. As if sensing the magnitude of their current situation, the remaining rioters sprinted from the square.

  “Bravo two one, report,” Avery said. “Bravo two two, report. Bravo team, respond.” She needed to act fast to consolidate a defensive perimeter. Get back in control of this shit storm, before the Ghosts took advantage.

  “Foxtrot two one, give Delta covering fire and get some more smoke down.” Avery shouted.

  Head down, she ran back to her position behind the vehicles. Sliding to a halt behind an APV and unfolding her flexi screen for an aerial view.

  Bursts of accurate automatic fire from Foxtrot squad peppered the ground behind Delta. Thick colored smoke swirled around the square, making it difficult for either Ghosts or her soldiers to see their targets.

  “Control, this is Zero, air support requested at Niagara Square. We have heavily armed Ghosts engaging from multiple locations, over“

  Zero, maintain position, AS three is a go, ETA minutes five.” Control replied.

  Delta’s front rank reached the vehicle line and began filtering through the position. A barrage of rounds smacked into their shields as they retreated. One soldier at the rear of their group fell, taking gunshot wounds to his exposed feet and ankles.

  “Foxtrot, covering fire to the rooftops,” Avery ordered. “Alpha, any movement outside the Square, over?”

  “Zero, this is Alpha. All clear.”

  “Maintain your position. Sending casualties your way. Medivac required. Over.”

  “Roger that Zero. Over”

  “Prepare double Starburst engagement to perimeter buildings. Set Lethal Force effect, I’m sending engagement footprint now, fire when ready. Out.”

  A contingent of Delta squad hunched low, shields raised and locked to cover the breach between APVs. The remainder were hauling casualties out towards the secure Alpha site.

  “APV One-five and APV one-six, close the breach.” The two vehicles sealed the break, as the sky lit with a double starburst.

  Snow continued to fall in the now calm square. Avery listened to distant cries and groans from the injured. An unconscious trooper was stretchered into the safety of an APV by a medic, his right leg, missing below the knee, leaving a slick trail of blood up the lowered access ramp. On the floor next to the ramp, a trooper lay unmoving. His body armor punctured by shrapnel from the explosions.

  A shift in the air and throaty growl announced the arrival of a Wraith gunship. It swung out of the black and white sky overhead and settled into a hover. Bristling with sensors and weapons systems, the Wraith was like a dangerous animal ready to attack.

  “Zero, this is AS three. Our sensors show rooftops clear of live targets. We’re on automated weapons free. So make sure all your troops have their personal beacons singing or they’ll get toasted real quick. Over.”

  “Roger AS three, we’re all flagged up.”

  The Wraith would detect a heat signature from anyone stupid or unlucky enough to remain in the area. Unfortunately for them, whoever they were, they wouldn’t live to eat breakfast.

  A twin stream of orange tracer rounds, from the Gatling gun’s ultra high rate of fire, lit up the sky. The double jet of fire turned north away from the square.

  “Zero. We got some leakers trying to exfil, be right back with you” said the Wraith pilot.

  Avery acknowledged then breathed out noisily. “Wraiths chasing Ghosts,” she murmured. As her foggy breath dissipated she shouted for squad commanders to ready for medivac.

  #

  Charlie squad had become a jumble of steaming debris, fluids and jagged metal. All with a glistening oily sheen, under the white glare of APV spotlights. Curling wisps of acrid smoke bled into the snowy night air. Twenty good soldiers gone in an instant. They’d be forgotten in a week by all but their friends and families.

  “Any sign of Charlie, Boss?” Skillet called, as he walked toward her. Helmet off and face displaying a mixture of mental exhaustion and suppressed emotion. The shock of combat.

  “Take a look,” she replied, nodding toward the debris. “All that’s left of them.”

  “Clearance teams reached the roof tops. Bravo team all down, no other bodies.”

  Avery cursed and kicked out at the slushy ground. She knew this pattern. There would be no evidence of Ghost casualties. If compromised a Ghost would self- destruct. She hoped they had all gone up in fireballs at the hands of the Wraith.

  “Why now? Here? Intelligence reports said they were targeting nano labs and corporates?” Skillet said.

  “The district court was a legitimate target.”

  “Legitimate, yes, but why here?”

  Avery ignored the question. She stared across at the glazed facade of the ruined building, exposing its structural frame like an indecent secret.

  “What happened last time?”

  She offered Skillet a frown.

  “When you engaged Ghosts?”

  “They led us through the city for an hour. A decoy to take out our sonic weapon,” Avery replied. “But that was over a year ago.”

  Her unit was responsible for civil defense in upstate New York during curfew hours. Two years on and she still considered it the worst command of her career, chasing demonstrators and protecting towns and cities from their own people. Now this. What happened to soldiering?

  Flashing red lights appeared at the north entrance. Fire trucks and ambulances rolled into the square, followed by a police escort. The Paramedics wasted no time with preamble. They immediately set about assessing casualties.

  “Get the recovery team out here.” Avery said, walking away towards the emergency vehicles.

  Most of the rioters still in the square would only need a bed for the night. The starburst was designed to temporarily knock them out. The second more powerful MRD charge could kill but it was unlikely.

  The dead and injured were spread randomly across the square. She stepped over a man whose porcelain white face contrasted sharply with his blood splattered chest. A group of ten or twenty lay in a twisted heap. Likely they were caught up in the firefight between soldiers and Ghosts. She had little sympathy for them and averted her eyes towards the ambulances. Collateral damage was a fact of life, or more aptly, death.

  “Keeping us busy as usual,” a paramedic said.

  “Majority are Starburst wounded. Gunshots to approximately thirty,” Avery replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “It’s a disgrace. What did th
ey do to deserve this?”

  “We’re still dealing with our casualties. I’m Major Avery, if you need help, ask one of my men to fetch me.”

  “Major Puppet,” he muttered.

  Avery froze. The paramedic was clearly upset and red faced despite the cold. He seemed agitated by the scene across the square. He must either be new or reassigned to the city.

  “Hey, Officer,” Avery shouted, towards the nearest police officer. “Get control of this one or he’s coming back with us.”

  It would only take one word, to have him arrested, charged and imprisoned. One word and he would have plenty of time to think about who deserved what. Most people could sail along in their lives, happy they were being supported in the right direction. Turn into the wind slightly, and you might find out you have no control.

  By the time Avery’s command unit was relieved at zero six hundred, the square was buzzing with activity. She stayed with the mechanics and medics extracting the remains of Charlie Squad from the wreckage. Unable to remain an observer, she pulled at glass shards and threw down chunks of debris, the pain in her hands welcomed like a shot of whiskey.

  Ambulances journeyed back and forth to take away bodies of the dead and injured. Contractors were already working in the falling snow to erect a hoarding around the court building and barriers across the surrounding roads. Cleaner’s jet washed the main square, multicolored slush flushed away down storm drains.

  After a brief handover to the local police, Avery climbed into a warm SUV. She needed a hot shower and breakfast before debrief. No doubt she would be explaining the night’s events in detail to her commanding officer.

  They’d been surprised by Ghosts once before on a routine control situation. Sniping from the shadows and attacking a lone vehicle. At the time she wasn’t sure if they really were Ghosts. The pattern didn’t fit their profile. Ghosts attacked all over the world. Research facilities, server warehouses, government equipment, nano labs. This type of attack was new, perhaps an escalation of their strategy. As far as she knew, HQ hadn’t managed to identify any strategy to their attacks. In fact they knew very little about Ghosts.