by Jake Bible
“Not at that depth,” Captain McNalley scoffed. “No tech can keep a person alive with that pressure.”
The ensign scanned again and brought up a new image. The entire crew gasped.
“Fire all torpedoes!” Captain McNalley ordered, frantic to get off a shot before they were attacked. “Tell all ships to do the same! Blow those fucking jacks out of the water!”
***
“This pressure sucks!” Charlie Masterson yelled over the com as he accelerated his shock suit up towards the Three’s submarines. “I thought you’d adjusted it, Bretton?”
“Has your head fucking exploded yet?” Melissa replied, rocketing through the water on his right. “Quit your bitching, pussy!”
“Torpedoes!” one of the shock troops announced as fire and bubbles erupted from all submarines. “Intercept, sir?”
“Defense team go!” Charlie ordered. “Get those cigars!”
“Get those cigars?” Melissa laughed. “Please tell me you haven’t been working on that line. That’s just awful.”
“Fuck off, Bretton,” Charlie said. “And shut the fuck up. We are in combat so how about focusing?”
“You think I can’t focus and talk at the same time?” Melissa asked as she shot past Charlie, her suit sending her right at the hull of one of the subs. “Watch this, jackhole!”
“Hey!” Charlie yelled. “Don’t break formation! And don’t call me a jackhole! That’s just not right!”
Melissa ignored him and sped towards the submarine, bringing her hands together in a point. She could have morphed and shaped her suit how she wanted, but she kept it in the exact same design as the others so they could see what the suit could really do.
The impact was jarring, but she’d been prepared for that and the suit absorbed 90% of the impact force. Her body ripped through the double layer hull, ripping the pressure hull apart like paper. She twisted her body as she hit air and began firing. Her body lost momentum slightly as she moved, but she’d attacked with such speed that in a second she was out the other side of the submarine before most of the sub’s crew even registered her.
For a moment she’d caught a glimpse of men’s faces as she’d ripped past, her guns blazing. She was glad she was out the other side before she saw their reactions to the fact they were dead in the water.
Melissa did wince as the shock suit adjusted from water to air to water in less than a second. She made a mental note to work on that part of the design as soon as she could. Overall, as she slowed herself and spun about to see her handy work, she was pleased with what she’d created.
The submarine seemed to tear apart in slow motion. It imploded in a burst of flame and bubbles then exploded, sending shockwaves through the water. Split into three pieces, the sub sank quickly and Melissa tried not to look as bodies, desperate for survival, tried to swim free of the undertow.
The human reality of war was something Melissa wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to, no matter how much death she witnessed.
***
Shock troopers propelled themselves at full speed to intercept the torpedoes targeting the American fleet. Chrome BC bodies dashed this way and that like oversized tunas as they chased down the speeding projectiles.
Still unused to aquatic maneuvers, several shock troops overshot their targets and had to spin about and fire from behind, hoping they wouldn’t end up hitting their comrades close to them. Soon the water was nothing but churning froth and fire as torpedo after torpedo was destroyed.
But even at their best, there were still too many for the Americans to chase down.
***
“Brace for impact!” Blue yelled as the first torpedo hit the Silverthorn.
The bridge crew gripped everything they could as the ship bucked and shook from the explosion below. Before Blue could ask for a report the Silverthorn started to list to starboard.
“Sections eight through nineteen are breached, sir!” a tech yelled over the emergency claxons. “We are taking on water too fast!”
“Dammit!” Blue shouted. “Get all non-essential personnel into lifepods. Every one else man their posts! We aren’t going down without taking some of those bitches with us!”
A couple techs glanced at each other, but the abandon ship order was given and lifepods were readied for non-combat crew.
***
“I thought Charlie said we’d be safe?” Mr. Wilkes shouted as Nancy hurried him along one of the ships’ corridors. “You picked a beauty there, girl.”
“Shut it, da,” Nancy yelled as she shoved her father towards one of the ladders leading up to the lifepods. “Just keep moving.”
“Don’t scold me, young lady,” Mr. Wilkes snarled. “You got us into this mess by fooling around with a damn jack!”
“Da!” Nancy roared. “Not the bleeding time!”
“Well we could be dead in a second, so I thought-.” An explosion ripped through the ship and Mr. Wilkes’s sentence was cut short. As was his life as half a ton of metal sheared through the section, ripping every living thing in half.
Nancy was conscious long enough to grip her father’s dead hand before her life slipped from her body.
***
“Sir! Two more ships hit!” a tech announced. “They are evacuating immediately!”
“Good! Get those people clear! Have the other ships circle about and pick up survivors!” Blue yelled as he activated his com. “Charlie! Report!”
“Busy, dad!” Charlie yelled over the com.
“What progress have you made? Give me numbers!”
But Charlie didn’t respond.
***
“What the fuck are those?” a shock trooper shouted over the com as several small forms shot at the shock troops.
“Drones!” Charlie cried out as he punched through and through a submarine and came face to face with the automated killers. “Focus on those first! They’ll rip us apart!”
Charlie had dealt with ground drones and even some light hover drones, so he was familiar with their abilities. They were keyed to kill anything that was not on their programmed list of allies. It made them last resort tech because they did not adapt well to change. They did not disable, they destroyed. He didn’t plan on giving them a chance to get the upper hand.
His arms up, guns firing, he pulled back, braked hard and swerved back towards the submarine he’d just ripped apart. He ducked between the wreckage, ignoring the bubbling screams of drowning men, and used the debris field for cover. Three drones tore after him, blasting pieces of submarine instead of dodging them. Charlie dove deep, letting the drones chase him as he followed the falling sub.
Bright blasts shot past him and he tucked tight then rolled to his left, spinning in the water and shooting back towards the drones. His arms against his sides he picked up speed until he was nearly head to head with the drones. In one fast sweep he swerved his body right and emptied his guns against the metal predators.
One explosion, two explosions...no third.
Charlie had spent his ammo in one try and he’d failed.
The third explosion was a surprise.
“Can I talk now or would I be too much of a distraction?” Melissa asked as she zipped by.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, breathless.
“Don’t mention it,” Melissa replied. “How about getting back into the game and wiping out some subs?”
“On it, Bretton, don’t you worry.”
“Wasn’t.”
***
“How many ships lost?” Blue yelled.
“Five, sir!” a tech responded. “And three limping along!”
“Including us,” Blue muttered, pretty sure they were more than just limping; they were sinking fast. “Abandon ship, people! Get your asses to safety! Rendezvous on the coast!”
Blue wasn’t sure where on the coast they’d all end up; the lifepods were for safety, not navigation. If the current was too strong half the Americans could end up hitting the Mexican Empire. And the mine field tha
t protected that part of the ocean.
No one had heard from the Mexican Empire in over a century and Blue didn’t want to be the first to show up knocking on their door.
“Charlie!” Blue called over the com.
“Yeah?”
“Do what you can then meet us on the coast,” Blue ordered. “Got that?”
“Can we even hit the coast? What about the shield?”
“We’ll have the shallows,” Blue said. “But the tide will decide how comfortable we are.”
“Great.”
“Just wipe out as many of those fucks as possible and get your ass out of there!”
“Got it.”
***
The severed torso of a shock troop floated past Melissa, they heaviness of the BC taking the half-body into the deep. Melissa didn’t give it a second glance as she continued her attacks. Submarine after submarine after submarine was punctured beyond repair as she dove through hulls and fired at anything that moved.
She quickly figured out where the engine rooms were and made those her first points of attack. If she didn’t have a straight shot at that region then she’d punch through the hull and turn towards the stern or aft, whichever was furthest away, and shred the length of the submarine; ripping the guts out, and the crew, with her ever changing suit.
She had been more than lucky a couple times when she was forcibly ejected and hadn’t fully re-pressurized her shock suit. The feeling of being crushed had nearly sent her into a panic, but her Ghost training always kicked in and she made the adjustments needed to keep her body from imploding.
But the others weren’t so lucky and the screams over the com told her that their surprise advantage had quickly turned into a brute force competition. And the Three’s forces were winning.
“Charlie!” she yelled over the com.
“I know, I know!” he replied. “My dad already gave the order! Time to get the fuck out of here, folks! Hit the coast and hide! Find rocks, find caves, bury yourself in the surf! Go!”
None of the shock troops had to be told twice.
Thirty
The Three watched as much as they could on the holos in their conference room. The sea battle was intriguing and, for more than a few minutes, alarming, but they knew their forces would take the day. They just had too much firepower. And firepower was what had gotten them as far as they were.
“You almost feel sorry for them,” Mr. Plain said.
“Do we?” Mr. Continental laughed. “I’m not sure I agree.”
“Oh, have a heart, man,” Mr. Brown Eyes said. “They fight so hard and die so well. I have to agree it is kind of sad.”
They Three looked at each other and laughed to themselves; nothing too overt, as that would have been crass.
“Where are we with the Canadian mechs?” Mr. Plain asked.
“On schedule,” Mr. Brown Eyes stated. “They can be in Monterey if we need them to be. Norton can give them instructions on how to bring down the shield if Capreze doesn’t send someone. He will though. He always has to be the guy to save the day. Then we land.”
“Do we have to?” Mr. Plain asked. “I mean, must we step onto the wasteland?”
“Of course,” Mr. Brown Eyes said. “We didn’t come all this way to just sit on the command ship. We’ll make Mr. Gein put on the boots and get all dusty dirty, though.”
“And how is Mr. Gein?” Mr. Continental asked. “Has the man sobered up yet?”
“He has,” Mr. Brown Eyes said. “Although I have to say he showed his brilliance while acting the drunken fool. We may have to keep him on a bender just to get more productivity out of him.”
“Ms. Isely would disagree,” Mr. Plain said. “She insists he almost ruined the entire project.”
“But he didn’t ruin it, did he?” Mr. Brown Eyes said. “He made it work.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Mr. Continental warned. “We don’t know if it worked until the subject shows his ability to follow orders. This project has been a great risk from the start.”
“Ms. Isely has assured us that all programming is in place to make sure the subject complies with all demands placed on him,” Mr. Brown Eyes responded. “Not that I trust everything Ms. Isely says. Her attachment to Mr. Gein is always a risk.”
***
The gin bottle flew across the room and shattered against the wall.
“Water?” Mr. Gein snarled. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I hoped you would,” Ms. Isely said as she stood before Mr. Gein, her arms across her chest. “It was meant as an overt hint that you are a drunken idiot.”
“But not a whore,” Mr. Gein shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Ms. Isely asked as she took in the mess that was Mr. Gein’s quarters. “That I am?”
Mr. Gein shrugged.
“Brilliant,” Ms. Isely sneered. “Your plan is to be an overt asshole and get us both killed, is that it?”
Mr. Gein shrugged again. They stared at each other in silence for several minutes.
“Ms. Isely?” a tech asked over the com. “He’s awake.”
“Does he know who he is?” Ms. Isely asked. Mr. Gein’s eyebrows raised with curiosity at the conversation he wasn’t privy to.
“I...I don’t know, mum,” the tech answered. “He won’t speak.”
“His form is holding?”
“It is, mum.”
“Good,” Ms. Iselysmiled. “Then he doesn’t knowwhat he is, at least.”
***
The room was cold, Mr. Stone could tell that, but it didn’t bother him. Not the cold or the stark white of the walls or the crinkling of the plastic sheet underneath him. The plain grey jumpsuit he was dressed in didn’t even bother him.
What bothered him was he was fucking dead and he fucking well knew it.
“Mr. Stone?” a voice asked over the speaker set into the wall above the barely discernible door. “Can you hear me, Mr. Stone?”
That was a voice he knew and that voice bothered him also.
“Yes, Ms. Isely,” Mr. Stone replied, surprised by how smooth his voice was. He’d expected gravel, he’d expected weakness, a hoarseness perhaps. That’s what dead sounded like, right? “Please explain my situation. I’m not in the mood for your mind games.”
“It’s good to know you have a mood at all,” Ms. Isely said. “We weren’t sure if you were going to make it or not.”
“I didn’t,” Stone replied flatly.
The brief silence told him all he needed.
“Nonsense, Stone,” Ms. Isely replied, trying to laugh it off. “Of course you made it. How else could you be here?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you body fucked me,” Stone said as he got up and started to inspect the room more closely. The last time he’d been under Ms. Isely’s ‘care’ he had been hyper-genetically altered. What had taken the Americans months to do in vitro she had done to him in just days. And shoved his LOMSD partner’s consciousness in his head to boot. She said it was to keep the efficiency of the partnership together. He thought it was for shits and giggles. “Assuming I am me.” He stopped and cocked his head, listening hard. “Where’s Reginald? I can’t hear him. Did you take him out of my head.”
“Yes, well you suffered some serious brain damage and have been in a coma for months,” Ms. Isely said. “We weren’t sure if Reginald’s personality would survive your recovery.”
Mr. Stone looked at his hands, flipping them back and forth. He unzipped his jumpsuit and inspected his legs, his belly, the parts of his back he could turn and see.
“A little more modesty, please, Mr. Stone,” Ms. Isely said. “You are being watched.”
“Modesty? But I’ve been in a coma for months. Surely you’ve had people wiping the shit from between my ass all that time. I highly doubt anyone is getting their panties bunched because I dropped my trousers.” He looked back at the speaker. “Unless, once again, I’m not me and this coma story is just more of your
cock and bull.”
Mr. Stone walked to the outline of the door. He felt along the seam, searching for leverage to get it open.
“It’s sealed, Stone,” Ms. Isely said. “For your medical protection. Your immune system isn’t fully recovered. There could be microbes present that might make you ill.”
“Huh,” Mr. Stone said as he reared back and punched the door, putting a nice dent in the BC it was made from.
“Mr. Stone!” Ms. Isely cried and Stone could hear the fear in her voice.
“I’m thinking this door is for your protection, not mine,” Mr. Stone said. “Let me speak to Gein.”
“What makes you think Mr. Gein is here?” Ms. Isely asked. “Or even alive?”
“Because the fucker is a survivor,” Mr. Stone said. “And the only asshole to outsmart me. I’m willing to wager my life he’s somewhere around. I can do that, right?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, can you do what?”
“Wager my life. It is my life, right?” The quick silence again. “That’s what I thought.”
***
Counting the seconds, the minutes, then the hours, Mr. Stone figured he’d been in the room for half a day before they opened the door and Ms. Isely met him face to face.
“Come, Mr. Stone,” Ms. Isely smiled her viper smile as she was flanked by two guards on each side of her. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“I don’t eat,” Stone replied without even thinking. He didn’t doubt the truth of his statement one bit. “But you know that.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ms. Isely scowled. “Of course you eat. Everyone has to eat.”
“Not me,” Stone said. He calculated the distance between himself, the guards, Isely, and the way out. They didn’t stand a chance. “I’m not hungry.”
But he restrained himself. He needed more intel before he bolted. He had no idea where he was. Hell, he didn’t know what part of the fucking world he was in. He decided he’d play Isely’s game. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. And when that want was gone then he’d show them what he was really hungry for.
