The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3)

by Mark R. Healy

  Thirty seconds.

  The mech marched on and now Targen stood in its way, the last of the Stoneskins. I heard him shout a challenge as sniper rounds pinged uselessly off the mech’s armour plating, and Targen held his arms wide as if to embrace his foe. The mech swivelled its rocket launcher toward him, but Targen vaulted forward and delivered a brutal kick to its chest, rocking it backward.

  “Yeah, c’mon!” Targen screamed. “C’mon, you–”

  The mech recovered quickly, lurching with deceptive speed at Targen and slamming him sideways. Targen’s challenge was cut abruptly short and he went smashing through the brick wall of a building across the street with a bone-jarring crash.

  Ten seconds.

  Mustering every ounce of courage I possessed, I got up and ran headlong toward the mech. I knew that I was striding toward death itself, a machine with such power that it had dispatched the four Stoneskins almost as an afterthought. I saw Doust’s face inside the cockpit, his eyes firmly on the blockade and The Midway beyond, and then the mech’s turbines roared into life. I realised Doust was powering up for another jump. He turned to glance at me scurrying across the asphalt, but must have viewed me as a harmless pest that was not even worthy of his attention, for he immediately returned his gaze to his controls as he prepared to jump.

  Five seconds.

  The noise was deafening and the air pushed against me like a solid wall as the turbines that were mounted on the mech’s back began to activate, creating a pair of glowing blue circles below it on the dark street. I stumbled over the body of a dead Marauder and almost fell, but as the mech crouched into its jump I launched myself upward, the spitball attaching precariously to its underbelly. I fell back to the ground and covered my ears as the mech took off, the force of the air expelled through the turbines so great that it blew me off the ground and backward along the street, the noise so immense that I felt it might rip my head apart.

  The spitball detonated with the mech in mid-air, and the great machine shrieked like a wounded animal, dropping like a stone from the sky and crashing back down onto the asphalt with a huge rend in its undercarriage. A ragged cheer went up from the direction of the blockade and Malyn shouted for joy nearby, getting to her feet and raising her hands in the air. Gingerly I began to pull myself to my feet, casting a wary eye behind me for more Marauders, but they seemed to have withdrawn.

  The cheers abruptly stopped.

  I turned back to the mech, and to my horror I saw it slowly clambering back to its feet, swivelling jerkily in my direction. Gears jarred within it and it overbalanced, then righted itself unsteadily. It raised its rocket arm in my direction and I stared down that black barrel knowing that there was no way to reach cover in time.

  Something fizzled inside the launching mechanism and smoke began to pour out, and with a loud pop it was engulfed in fire. I realised that it must have been fortuitously damaged in the explosion.

  Doust sent the mech lurching forward, his attention now firmly set on revenge, and I turned and ran. Although damaged and limping, the mech was still far quicker than me. It would bear down on me before I could reach safety. I saw Malyn crouched at the carry case, and while amazed at her courage, I knew that it would take sixty seconds at a minimum for the timer on one of the spitballs to go off, even if she did somehow manage to plant it on the mech. I didn’t have that long to live.

  The crunching footsteps of the mech closed in. I pushed my body to its limit, muscles straining, arms and legs pumping, ignoring the aches and pains of injuries I’d sustained through the battle. I looked behind and saw Doust’s hard expression inside the cockpit, his single-mindedness. I heard the claw mechanism grinding as it reached out for me.

  Suddenly there was movement from the edge of the street and something launched onto the back of the mech, rocking it sideways and causing it to cease its pursuit. It reached up awkwardly with its claw, but some of the hydraulics must have been severed in the explosion, as it could not reach all the way. The figure clambered up further and appeared above the cockpit, its shiny metal exterior glinting against the dull grey of the mech’s chassis.

  “You think that’s gonna stop me, bitch?” Targen shouted triumphantly through the Stoneskin’s loudspeaker. He slammed a fist mightily down into the cockpit, causing the whole mech to shudder under the impact, and the two of them tottered across the street drunkenly. Targen struck the cockpit again and again while the mech lurched from one side to the other, attempting in vain to pull him away. With a final strike from Targen, the cockpit housing buckled and he was able to slip his fingers under its edge. He grunted, pulling upward with all his might, and the metal shrieked in protest as it began to pull apart. The mech flailed at him but was unable to dislodge its attacker, who had burrowed in like a tick and would not let go.

  The cockpit was finally wrenched open and the mech went limp as Doust took his hands from the controls to defend himself. He was no match for the Stoneskin, though, and Targen knocked his blows away as if he were a child, and then he drove his fist into the white-haired Marauder’s face with an audible crunch.

  “Eat that,” Targen said triumphantly.

  Reaching down, Targen gripped his adversary and snatched him from the cockpit as if he were shucking an oyster, then heaved him above his head and threw him down heavily on the street below. Dazed, Doust attempted to rise, but Targen launched himself into the air and came down heavily on top of him, grinding the Marauder’s face into the asphalt with his boot.

  Doust went limp, the last hope of the Marauders defeated.

  Targen thumped his chest and roared. “Still the greatest goddamn soldier on this planet,” he announced.

  21

  Soldiers came streaming over the blockade and began to gather around Targen and the mech, offering their congratulations and taking a chance to inspect the awesome war machine up close. Others searched along the street for any wounded Marauders, and once found they were summarily executed without exception.

  More soldiers were moving in from the south as well, undoubtedly the patrols returning home, and I could hear sporadic gunfire out in the city as the last of the Marauders were confronted and taken down. It seemed that the fighting might continue in patches here and there for a while to come, but the back of the Marauders had well and truly been broken.

  Malyn stood taking it all in over by the side of the road with a spitball in her hand, and as I made my way over to her she lifted it curiously and frowned.

  “So what does it mean if this little timer thingy is counting down from ten?” she said.

  I gave her a smirk. “Nice try.”

  She placed it back carefully into the carry case and brushed a dark lock of hair from her eyes.

  “You’re really something,” she said, and the outright admiration in her eyes made me both pleased and embarrassed at the same time.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said awkwardly, pointing over toward the mech, where Targen was talking animatedly to those around him. “It was all Targen. Just ask him.”

  Malyn snorted. “What an asshole.”

  “Let him have his moment. Maybe if he enjoys it enough he’ll be a bit less prickly for a day or two.”

  “Hmm. Don’t count on it.”

  I took a deep breath, glancing around. “So this might be it. The end of the Marauders. Can you believe that? After all these years?”

  “Not necessarily. They still have reinforcements out there.”

  “I don’t think so. Not if Doust was throwing himself into fray. I have a feeling that this was their last roll of the dice. All or nothing.”

  Malyn digested that for a moment. “Then there might be some hope for this world yet.”

  I spotted Liv making her way over toward the mech and she pointed up at it, dictating something to a subordinate who was tapping away on a flip next to her. She then made a sweeping gesture across the street and pointed south as she gave directions for the next task she wanted carried out.

  Tar
gen saw her nearby and gave a guttural laugh, pushing through the throng that had gathered around him.

  “You finished with your paperwork, Major General Liv?” Targen crowed.

  Liv glared at him. “Major General, I’m attempting–”

  “I hope you were watching what just happened,” Targen drawled. “I hope you learned something. This is how a soldier leads his men.”

  There was muffled laughter from soldiers and one of them clapped Targen on the back in admiration. Liv’s eyes darted across the crowd. It was apparent that she understood what was happening, and that she would find no support from those nearby, and in response she simply bowed her head and walked away stiffly with her subordinate in tow.

  “Yep,” Malyn said sourly, “definitely an asshole.”

  We picked our way across to the mech, joining the others and inspecting it in much the same way as one might look upon a slaughtered lion – a majestic and awe-inspiring thing that still drew respect even as it lay in ruin. Through the gaping tear in its underbelly I could see its inner workings, the gears and pistons that drove it, and some of these were still rotating languidly. A part of me expected it to straighten its back and raise its weapons, ready for one final murderous fling, but there was no chance of that happening without a pilot.

  “This will make a good story one day,” Malyn remarked. “The day you took down a mech all by yourself.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to remember much about this day,” I said as a soldier jostled past me for a closer look at the mech. “The whole thing has been like a blur.”

  “Well, I’m going to remember it,” she said. “You need a refresher, just come ask me.”

  “All right, quit gawking,” a major said, striding into the pack of soldiers. “This fight isn’t done yet. Get back to your squads, pronto.” He saw Malyn and I amidst the crowd and pointed back toward the blockade. “Civilians, report to Major Kent for your assignments.”

  We were both roped into helping with the clean-up when we reached the blockade, heading our separate ways . Despite the abundance of clanks in the area, I felt a certain loneliness watching Malyn leave, as if she were my only true companion here in the city. The city seemed a little more cold and disconnected as she disappeared from view, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on it further, as Major Kent and then other Ascension officers directed me to a seemingly endless list of tasks. There was a great deal of body removal to be done. Time after time I found myself gripping some unfortunate soul by the arms or legs and lugging them over to a transport to be shipped off to parts unknown. Many of the dead were in pieces and it was grisly and unpleasant work, but I understood the necessity of it and did my job without complaint.

  At one point I hauled a dead Marauder into a transport, his chest torn open to reveal the wires and mechanism of his innards, and dumped his remains onto the pile of bodies with the others. I was forced to reach up and readjust his body position to stop him sliding back outward again, and as I did I let out an inadvertent gasp. Shifting bodies aside I saw Top knot lying there half buried, her eyes unseeing and bulletholes scattered across her face. A sense of outrage came over me, that Ascension would be so disrespectful as to treat their dead this way, but what choice was there? Right now there were too many deceased to offer a formal funeral to each in turn. Maybe they would be sorted into groups at whatever place this transport was headed, placed aside to be treated with more dignity later. In any case, there was nothing I could do about it, so I took a moment to pay my silent respects to her before getting back to work.

  Time became a blur. It might have been forty-eight hours or more that I was at it, and my muscles ached with the exertion. I felt exhausted, but beneath it all was a simmering sense of elation that kept me going. The Marauders were finished. The war was over, and the world had a bright future ahead.

  From my own perspective, I knew that now there would be time to work with Ascension, to concentrate on fixing the oil wells and clear the smoke from the sky, thereby saving Atlas, the other children, and all the plants and animals we had raised back home. The path forward had been cleared. For the first time there was reason to hope that I might succeed in my mission after all.

  The sight of the Grid spire flickering into life brought me back to reality. Those working with me all stopped what they were doing and turned as one to look upon it, towering above the rooftops and stretching up into the clouds with dazzling intensity. I was reminded that time was short for the children, and I couldn’t stay here cleaning up the streets for much longer. I had no doubt that Cabre still wanted the information I had to give him. Now, more than ever, he would be able to pursue his vision of restoring the Grid and rediscovering the technology of old. I had to find a way to gain another audience with him and get things moving so that we could both achieve our desired outcomes.

  Oddly, it was he who came looking for me. A Humvee approached shortly thereafter, and as it drew to a halt a soldier disembarked and began talking to others nearby.

  Voices were muffled but I could hear a fragment of the conversation.

  “…cleanskin with a scar down one side of his face?”

  Someone pointed in my direction and the soldier jogged over to me.

  “You there,” he said, looking me over. “What’s your name?”

  “Brant.”

  He nodded. “Come with me.”

  The blockades were being disassembled by teams of large industrial clanks who were Liv’s height or taller, their massive hands gripping the concrete blocks that had comprised the blockade walls and lugging them to the side of the road to allow vehicles access through to The Midway. Soldiers parted and the Humvee made good time along the thoroughfare.

  In sharp contrast to my previous attempts to reach The Midway, on this occasion I felt like a celebrity as I was drawn through the throng. There were no pat-downs, no questions, just a free and easy ride up to the doorstep of the Ascension headquarters. I even had one of the soldiers approach and open the door for me as the Humvee came to a stop.

  “Cabre’s waiting on level two,” the soldier said. “I’ll take you to him.”

  I was escorted through the front doors, where another soldier stood guard. From there we went along a corridor and up a flight of stairs to the war room I’d seen previously. Cabre was inside with Targen, discussing something quietly on the far side of the table.

  “Ah, you’re still with us, Brant,” Cabre said with a relieved smile. “I had visions of you being ripped apart out there before you could make it back to The Midway.”

  “Well, you did leave me in the lurch, General,” I said, trying to inject some humour into my voice despite the fact that I wasn’t happy about being discarded at the city gates.

  “Yes. That was unfortunate,” Cabre said, embarrassed.

  “This is war,” Targen said through slitted eyes. “There’s no room for babysitting around here. Stand on your own two feet, or fall.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “It’s done. I made it. No hard feelings. I just want to get to work.”

  “Of course,” Cabre said. “To say I want to find out what you know is… an understatement.”

  “And after I tell you, you’ll keep your end of the bargain, right?”

  “What’s this?” Targen said, perplexed.

  “He’s trying to put out the fires,” Cabre explained. “At the oil wells.”

  “What in hell for?” Targen said.

  “He has his reasons.” Cabre nodded reassuringly to me. “Now if we–”

  “Excuse me, General?” a soldier said, entering the room behind me.

  “What is it?”

  “We have the radios back up, sir. You asked to be notified immediately.”

  “Good. Is there any word from Lima?”

  “Not yet, General.”

  Cabre began to move, headed toward the door. “Targen, can you look after Brant while I attend to this?”

  A pl
astic smile spread across Targen’s face as he stared at me. “Certainly, General.”

  Cabre and the other soldier departed and I watched them go. Turning back to the Major General, I shifted uneasily. Targen just continued to look upon me with an unwavering stare.

  “Uh, some good moves out there, Major General,” I said in an attempt to break the ice. “Those Stoneskins are really something.”

  “The man with the secrets, huh?” Targen said, ignoring my attempts at congeniality.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “I don’t like secrets. Not unless I’m the one keeping them.”

  I glanced hesitantly at the doorway. Targen remained unmoving, unreadable.

  “Major General, is there a problem?” I said.

  “Yeah. I ain’t got no more Marauders left to kill,” he said enigmatically.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  Targen laughed heartily, loosening his stance and shedding his air of hostility. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, kid. Don’t mind me. C’mon, let’s go see Gunner while we wait for the boss to finish playing with his toys.”

  He guided me by the shoulder and led me from the room, a broad grin on his face. Descending again to the first floor, he led me through a series of passageways until we came out into a corridor where there was only one light bulb providing illumination. It flickered as we walked toward the doorway at the far end.

  “Y’know what I liked about the Dusters?” Targen said conversationally, his hand still on my shoulder.

  “Uh, nothing?”

  “They understood the way the world works,” Targen said, as if reminiscing about an old friend. “For all their faults, that was the one thing they got right. They knew that if you want something, you have to take it. You don’t ask or beg. You don’t bargain. You take. And they never compromised on that, not even at the bitter end. Maybe when Ascension grew in power the Dusters could have relocated, moved away from us. Hell, they could have shipped off, right to the other side of the continent where they thought we wouldn’t come looking. But they didn’t. They knew this war was all or nothing. There was no...” He searched for the right phrase. “There was no mutually beneficial arrangement. You know what I’m saying?”