Point Apocalypse

by Alex Bobl

  Kathy slowed down too watching them. "Predators prowl at sunset."

  Was it a book quote or her own sentiment? "And then they dine," I said.

  The air shuddered. Our ears popped from an explosion. Another one thundered through the valley throwing us to the ground. We covered our heads as missiles flashed past us.

  When the shock waves subsided, I rolled onto my back, sat up and raised the gun. The trees in the oasis crackled as fire licked their tops. Smoke billowed over the barn. Two rockets hissed through the smoke: one hit the goats, the other, the settlement.

  Another blow sent me onto my back. I covered my face feeling the ground tremble. Then it rained with stones and chips of wood.

  "The children!" I heard Kathy over the next explosion.

  "Down, you idiot!" I kicked her feet away pushing her to the ground.

  The worst thing for infantry is a rocket launcher. Once the explosions had died away, we heard the approaching roar of sand buggies. Several of them. The clatter of pulse guns was interspersed with the humming of an engine. A behemoth personnel carrier approached the settlement. His roof sported several grenade launchers.

  Here we go. They'd mop us up in no time.

  The launchers shuddered spitting out a dozen grenades. The heavy vehicle rocked on its suspension and rammed the fence. Two of the sand buggies headed straight for us and yet another one rolled out into the valley chasing the three remaining tigers.

  The fur on the animals' heads was singed by the flames. Their saber teeth glistened in the setting sun. Incredibly fast, the tigers were catching up with the buggy.

  The pulse gun flashed blue scorching the first tiger's head and ripping through his spine. Blood everywhere. The tiger tumbled; the two others sped up and raced off together, leaping at the buggy. One collapsed in mid-air but the other thrust at the moving vehicle knocking down the twin-barreled gun on the roof.

  The buggy's wheels swerved under his half-ton weight. For a moment, the tiger disappeared in a cloud of dust. His teeth and claws clashed on the armored steel. The combat vehicle tilted to one side and nearly flipped over. Its brakes screeching, it slid a few more feet forward and came to a halt.

  A hatch opened. A trooper emerged raising his pulse gun shooting at the attacking tiger. Still roaring, the animal reached out for the soldier. His gun went flying as the man disappeared in the hatchway. The tiger collapsed on the armor and slid off, already dead.

  The electric motor whirred as the engineer tried to restart the vehicle. Kathy jumped up and started for the buggy but I stopped her as a personnel carrier appeared from the burning settlement. The two other sand buggies had already arrived. No good trying to resist: all we could do was wait.

  The buggies rolled closer and surrounded us baring their twin-barreled guns. The personnel carrier towered above them, its loader casting a wide sidelong shade over us. A row of hatches opened spewing out soldiers in light gear each equipped with DSS - digital soldier kit which included a universal infrared binocular visor, portable camera sights and a terminal in a breast pocket, all connected to the optoelectronic control system.

  The commander's cupola opened. A squat officer with a raised visor peered out of the personnel carrier.

  A captain, judging by his breast chevron. He raised his high-cheekboned face to me with a crooked grin.

  "What did I say?" I heard.

  A cyber trooper slid out onto the armor of the nearby buggy. I recognized him. He'd shot Famba that day by the river. He stood there, laid back and indifferent, resting his hands on the stock of his rifle, and stared at the fat-faced engineer.

  "It's him!" the cyber trooper said. "Can't you see?"

  "You don't remember us, eh?" the captain grinned. "They've done a good job on you."

  "There were children in the village!" Kathy spat out. "You killed them! You've just killed innocent people!"

  The captain lowered his head and spoke into the hatchway,

  "Operator. What do the scanners read?"

  "All clear," a voice came from the hatchway. "No survivors. All dead."

  "You're right," the officer bared his even teeth and barked, "Drop your weapons. Resistance is futile."

  I nodded to Wong and Wladas, dropped my gun to the ground and raised my hands. Kathy froze with her shotgun barrel down, her eye twitching.

  "Don't-" I started but the girl leaned forward, her lips moving.

  Wong beat me to it. He knocked the gun out of her hands, pushed her toward the carrier and threw her gun to the soldiers.

  Chapter Six

  Metropolis

  "You fucking jerks!" Kathy yelled in an already hoarse voice and slammed the vehicle's bulkhead. "Where are you taking us?"

  The soldiers in the cab didn't react. Sand pattered under the personnel carrier's wheels as it whizzed forward. An occasional stone clanked against the hull, then it was all quiet again.

  They'd handcuffed us and crammed us into the reserve battery compartment - a perfect lockup that could only be opened from the outside. A tiny grill in the stanchion let in a thin mixture of air and exhaust fumes. At least they'd left us the water which had proved a lifesaver, especially after we'd dampened pieces of my torn T-shirt and wrapped them around our faces. This way at least we could breathe. From time to time, the vehicles' headlights cut through our pitch-black dungeon as they followed the commander's radio orders and changed formation. Then I clung to the grill trying to work out exactly where in the desert we could be.

  Wladas kept a gloomy silence. For a while, Kathy had tried to convince him to join her screaming fit. Instead, he'd clammed up and paid no heed to her pleas and threats. Finally, she lost her voice trying to get answers from the soldiers and stopped, exhausted.

  The battery compartment was far too tiny for us to stretch our legs. Kathy huddled up next to me. Wong and Wladas doubled up opposite.

  I gave up my attempts to divine our destination. Instead, I thought about what the squad captain had said. He'd recognized me, even if I'd never seen him before. Apparently, the cybers knew me, too. I remembered their argument at the foothill by the river. So it looked like I shouldn't have blamed Georgie and Jim, let alone Wladas, for knowing my identity.

  What the fuck was going on? Where did the cybers know me from? According to FSA analytics, General Varlamov had no more than three cyber troopers. The rest of his men were human. And? It didn't pan out. I had to approach the problem in a different way. There was this idea, something I'd remembered just as I'd arrived at Pangea...

  But I couldn't breathe, let alone think. I wriggled in place trying to find a more comfortable position. The noise of the engine started to drive me nuts.

  Kathy must have read my thoughts because she turned and croaked into my ear,

  "What was it their officer was jabbering on about? I didn't quite get it."

  A bright beam of light reached through the grill illuminating Wong and Wladas' faces. One of the sand buggies turned about and drove past the carrier heading for a body of water glistening far away.

  The river. We were by the river. The carrier turned and continued toward it.

  "Mark," Kathy jogged my shoulder. "You hear me? I said, what did that asshole commander say to you? Looks like you've met before!"

  "I've no idea," I said watching our progress toward the river.

  I recognized the characteristic clang of the wave deflector as it dropped into position on the vehicle's front. The engine revved up as the driver turned the aft waterjets onto blow. We were about to cross the river. The first buggy was already in the water. The carrier's beam hit the deserted opposite bank. Without slowing down, we rolled into the river.

  "No idea," I repeated louder. "First time I saw him."

  "The Chinese," she changed the subject, "he's not a chatty type, is he? Are you?" she turned to Wong.

  "leave him alone," I said, my eyes glued to the grill. "He's only my cover." A wave hit the carrier's armored side splattering water in my face. The vehicle rocked gentl
y.

  "A gunman?" Kathy leaned against my shoulder trying to see what was going on.

  "Sort of. A combat tactician, rather."

  "Some partners you've got," I could see the smirk on her face, "Why did he stand and watch us fight, then? Back at the coast he didn't hesitate to kick our butt. Here, he wasn't so decisive."

  "Why should he be," I shifted again trying to stretch my stiff muscles. "Their combat potential was his own times one hundred."

  "Their what?"

  "Too long to explain."

  The carrier crawled out of the water and started climbing a steep hill. I fell over Kathy and Wong over Wladas. Another headbeam crossed our dungeon revealing heavy clumpy soil around. Not a grain of sand. It looked like we'd crossed the desert along the river's left bank. In that case, we had to be near the swamps. A weird route indeed.

  Immediately, I answered my own question. Judging by what I remembered of the Information's map in my head, the convoy had crossed the plain to bypass the oil riggers' base and was now heading for... let me think... we were going north toward... toward the farmers' settlements and the City of Forecomers. But where exactly were they taking us?

  "And this Wladas," Kathy spoke again, "what's he got to do with you two?"

  "Wladas is a neurotech," I answered mechanically as I tried to guess where we were going. "He specializes in cyber troopers."

  Varlamov had given the farmers plenty of notice to relocate. He was after something, and that something was near the old city.

  "You mean," the girl insisted, "he knows how to kill these tube-headed monsters? Is that what he does?"

  "It is," I nodded. "He knows how to kill them."

  "So why was he too fucking slow to catch a cold back at the river?" she snapped.

  I couldn't take it any longer. "Because you need custom weapons to take them out! Do I look as if we have them? So do shut up and help me think. Have you ever been in the swamps? You think one could camp there? And if you can, what would General Varlamov need there?

  She sat silent for a moment. Then she said,

  "By the swamps, there're some alien ruins. We went there a few times. Just some rock fragments and a few tunnels, all collapsed. Nothing interesting. We didn't find any artifacts there. Just a hole in the wall.

  "Good to make camp?"

  "A temporary camp, yeah. Vehicles easy to camouflage. Actually, if you dug yourself in by those ruins, a hundred guns couldn't touch you."

  "I see," I said but the truth was, I didn't see anything. The swamps covered a lot of ground. Farms, famous for their fertile soil, ran all along the swamps' edge. It had been Neumann who'd brought his biologists to Pangea to study its various regions. I rubbed my wrists under the cuffs. "Enough now. We need some rest. Go and sleep."

  I sat back and closed my eyes. Kathy next to me shifted trying to get comfortable.

  I didn't know how long we'd sat side by side. I'd lost count of time and drifted into a restless slumber. When I opened my eyes, the darkness outside had started to dissipate. The carrier's engine groaned a couple of times and, amid the hiss of the air pumps, we jerked to a stop. Wong and Wladas awoke with the impact.

  "There we are," I said looking through the grill.

  The buggies and the personnel carrier were parked on a flat stone platform - or rather, a granite slab half the size of a soccer pitch. Beyond it I could see a grassy plain and... just some mist - so thick that the sunrays couldn't penetrate the murky fog.

  Now I finally got my bearings. We were in the old city. The fog swirled around over the swamps. I turned to Kathy: the farms should lie behind the carrier.

  A hatch creaked open, then another, followed by talking and the stomping of feet. Guns clattered. I looked through the grill at the cyber troopers hurrying away from their buggies with a stretcher. The small angle of vision didn't allow me to see where they were taking the wounded soldier.

  Metal-plated combat boots stomped overhead. Locks clicked and the lockup hatch moved aside. I had to shut my eyes from the unbearably bright morning light.

  "Get out," a voice ordered. Kathy rose first but groaned and collapsed on top of me. Wong managed to spread his numb legs. Soldiers grabbed his shoulders and yanked him out, then pushed him down to the ground. They repeated the same with each of us.

  A couple of minutes later we had warmed our muscles up a little. At least we could stand up under the indifferent stares of the squad captain and two more guards. I, in the meantime, made my first observations of the area.

  The first thing that really jumped out at me were some huge structures I decided to call gasometers. Two enormous octagonal buildings loomed in front of us eclipsing the sky. I was sure their rough moss-grown stone walls guarded one or two of the old planet's secrets. On the roof of the one closest to us stood what looked like a crane jig complete with a gear hoist and some cables. Apparently, they'd been very recently used to lift something heavy to the top and left there. Along the roof's edge I noticed the ends of a camouflage net stretched over it.

  It had to be my imagination, but for a second I thought that the sky over the structures gleamed with a whitish blue shimmer. Ancient foundations lay behind the buildings, arranged checkerwise for whatever good it did them. Behind the foundations was another granite platform with a mobile solar power system installed: five squat panels on wheels glistening with photo cells faced west. They reflected the rays of the rising sun making me squint with their light. Fat cables ran from the panels to a power converter and then further to the nearest gasometer disappearing in an opening guarded by some troopers.

  Apart from soldiers, I noticed several civilians. At first I thought they were captured farmers. Then I saw guns in their hands and remembered Lars Swenson's stories. Clones. Oh well.

  The clones had their own camp by the power station with three tents and a rusty truck tractor hooked to a ten-ton trailer. That was about it. Some of the humans guarded the outside perimeter: I could see several figures spread out along the border with the plain.

  Someone shoved me in the shoulder. "Forward march," the captain motioned us. The soldiers took us to the opening in the nearest gasometer's wall, the one with the cables. I glanced in the direction of the swamps and noticed mountain peaks rising over the toxic mist.

  A patrol carrier drove past with a soldier sitting on its armored turret. Now there were only three vehicles left at the platform: the personnel carrier and the two buggies one of which had been damaged by the tiger. Mechanics were already busy laying their tools out by its front wheels.

  As we walked to the gasometer I tried to estimate their battery inverter's capacity. If I wasn't wrong, it could power half of New Pang. They could bring electricity to half the city's homes plus light the streets with their battery reserves!

  So what was it that General Varlamov - or Neumann with his backing - had discovered in the City of the Forecomers? What had the general been up to all this time as he'd lain low off Pangean's authorities' radar? And why had the said authorities done nothing about it?

  My head swam with questions, each more important than the last. Watchful and alert, I walked down a dimly-lit passage trying to remember every ledge and turn, every apparently useless detail like a dented bucket in a niche by the wall, or an air vent twenty paces to the right from the gasometer's entrance, or the number of the steps leading underground.

  The staircase seemed to last forever. I noted some three hundred-something steps until I finally lost count. Wladas walked in front of me. The passage narrowed as it descended so that the captain and the guard behind my back kept catching their weapons and gear on the stone ledge. The fat cables snaked along the wall to my right. Good. If the lights went out, it would be easy to feel our way back.

  "What a place," Wladas whispered. "Sheer Metropolis."

  "Sheer what?"

  "Metropolis. The city caught between heaven and hell."

  "No talking!" the captain ordered.

  A gun barrel dug into my spine. I crin
ged but didn't talk back. There'd be plenty of time. I followed Wladas through a doorway and found myself in a large hall crammed full of machinery. Humming transformer cabinets touched the low ceiling. Thick cable bundles snaked and looped over the floor and the walls so you would have a hard time sorting them out. In a far corner, in a cubicle staked out with console tables, an operator in officer's uniform watched several monitors, his strained face illuminated by the screens' glare.

  The captain walked past us, intent like an animal chasing his prey. Not the gait of a typical man: his body had to be cram full of implants. We walked past the cabinets and the cubicle and found ourselves between what they call "clean rooms": two glass cubes stuffed with expensive lab equipment.

  Wladas glanced back at me, and I nodded. He knew what these machines were for; I'd never had a chance to see anything like them. Apparently, Varlamov had orchestrated his Pangean exile scenario well in advance and arranged the delivery of all this special-purpose apparatus and their staff sworn to secrecy. Our analytics had misjudged him badly. They didn't have the slightest idea about all this shit.

  I remembered the hoist machine on top of the gasometer. That's how they must have brought the machines inside. The hallway was just about wide enough to get the cables in.

  Disinfecting lamps burned in one of the two glass cubes. There, two neurotechs in white "clean suits" stood over a cyber trooper sprawled in a hospital chair.

  His chest was pried open. Ridged tubes and catheters disappeared under his ribs. A drainage machine reverberated on a stand by the chair pumping lymph through the body. Blood dripped onto the floor under the chair. The neurotechs paid no attention to it. One spoke to the patient in the chair who answered calmly, his face relaxed. But of course - the cybers' complex nervous architecture allowed them to shut off certain body areas and stay insensitive to pain.