Origins (The Wasteland Chronicles, #2)

Home > Other > Origins (The Wasteland Chronicles, #2) > Page 17
Origins (The Wasteland Chronicles, #2) Page 17

by Kyle West


  Why they didn’t come when we were so weak, no one knew. It was one thing to be grateful for. It gave us time to find a solution.

  It was only a matter of time until everything was controlled by the xenovirus, and through the xenovirus, the Voice. Stopping it meant going after the Voice itself. Ashton and Samuel conferred for hour after hour, trying to hash out a plan that would succeed in destroying the Voice while keeping everyone alive. If Bunker One was any indication of what Ragnarok Crater would be like, we were in for the fight of our lives. Even with backup, the Voice wouldn’t go down easily.

  It wasn’t as if Ragnarok Crater was a small thing. It was over a hundred miles wide. The Voice, or whatever controlled the Voice, was located somewhere in that huge area. We had to find a better way of locating its exact point of origin. Ashton said he was working on a solution to that problem.

  The bottom line was: we didn’t know enough yet. Finding those Black Files had opened a Pandora’s Box of questions when we expected answers. We knew the Voice was coming from Ragnarok Crater in a series of low-frequency sound waves, and that the xenofungus transmitted these waves, communicating with all life-forms under its spell. Anything infected with the xenovirus would listen to the Voice’s directives. All xenolife behaved as if of one mind. Something was controlling it. If we killed that something, it could spell the end of the invasion.

  Well, this part of the invasion, anyway. The Black Files stated the Xenos were still coming – I assumed on some sort of ship – or maybe a whole interstellar armada. When they arrived, they were probably expecting to have a planet tailor-made for them, covered with the Blights and all resistance dead. Assuming we did kill off the Voice, we still had to deal with Xenofall. We didn’t know when Xenofall was coming. It could be tomorrow, one year, or ten years or more from now. We might even all be dead by the time Xenofall happened.

  Samuel kept telling me to take it one step at a time, so that was what I was trying to do. The first step was preparing myself as much as possible – not just getting my strength back, but getting stronger besides. I ran along the Outer Ring an hour each day. I was improving my speed. I had sprinted more in the past few months than at any other point in my life. I did pushups, pull-ups, and crunches in addition to my martial training with Samuel and Anna. I wanted to be ready for anything.

  By the end of the day, I was so tired that I usually fell right asleep. There were times, though, when I couldn’t turn off my brain. So much had happened that it was impossible to process. I was constantly stressed. I suffered nightmares. I dreamt of Khloe, buried alive in the dry, red sand. I dreamt of the night when it all went to hell. And the monsters were always there, surrounding me, chasing me over bleak plains and jagged mountains.

  The Blights were growing, festering like open sores on the surface. When I looked down at Earth, I could see the Blights when the blood-red clouds weren’t so thick. They were only in North America, but according to Ashton and Samuel, that would change over the next ten years. The planet looked sick, for lack of a better word. It was as if it were a living thing being poisoned from the inside out.

  Then there was the rest of the world, too. The entire planet was depopulated to the same extent as America – or worse. Ashton called the ten years following Ragnarok the Chaos Years – a time when the world’s population dropped from 8.4 billion to mere millions. In China, city-states and proto-empires fought amongst the ruins of civilization. In Europe, extreme cold had completely hampered population regrowth. In equatorial regions, people were faring little better. War over limited resources still consumed most of the world. Wars would exist as long as there were enough people to fight them.

  None of these people knew about the xenovirus or Xenofall, and trying to communicate that through language barriers seemed impossible. In his first years in Skyhome, Ashton had visited different parts of the world – China, India, Russia, Japan, Africa – but always found one of two things: either no one had survived, or there were so many survivors fighting that making contact was too dangerous. Maybe the Chaos Years ended in 2040 for the United States, but the rest of the world was still living them.

  If we didn’t succeed in stopping the xenovirus, all of humanity was as good as dead – and not just humanity, but every life-form that had managed to evolve in our planet’s tumultuous, 4.6 billion-year history. As unimaginable as that length of time was, I knew Earth had never experienced anything like this. A new form of life had invaded. When I left Bunker 108, I never imagined something like the xenovirus could exist. All I wanted was a community to live in, another Bunker, somewhere to be safe.

  Well, I had found my community; but now, we were the ones trying to keep the world safe.

  ***

  “Hold still.”

  Anna grabbed my hands, giving me a stern expression. She twisted my clenched fists roughly on the hilt of her katana, forcing them vertical.

  “Keep your grip loose, yet firm.”

  I tried to do what she told me. I looked into her hazel eyes, which she promptly rolled.

  “Stop looking at me and focus. Make your mind blank. I imagine a black plane, a void. Have you been practicing that?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “No, you haven’t. I can tell.” She sighed. “That’s the most important part.”

  “Where did you get this void thing, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I made it up, but it works.”

  I smiled, holding the katana as steady as I could. “So when do I get to swing this thing?”

  Anna raised an eyebrow. “Would you quit being perverted and pay attention for once?”

  “I’m trying.”

  She sighed again, but it was forced. The beginnings of a smile played on her lips.

  “Seriously. You need to practice meditating. Once you get the hang of it, you can make your mind completely blank. I always do it before a fight. It helps my concentration.” She looked at me. “Do you understand?”

  “Yeah. Makes sense.”

  “Good. You really need to practice it. I can’t stress that enough.” She looked at my arm, touching my left biceps. “You’re getting stronger. You’ve been working out still?”

  “Yeah, of course. I didn’t realize you were such a fan.”

  “I’m just commenting on your physique,” she said. Despite this comment, her face flushed slightly red. “I can actually see you when you stand sideways. You were so rail-thin before.”

  “Ouch.” I set her katana gently on her bed. “My ‘physique,’ huh?”

  She ignored my comment. “When you go to your hab today, I want you to do the mediation. I mean it.”

  “Alright. I get it.” I turned for the door. “I’m going to grab dinner, if you want to come.”

  She shook her head. “I still need to practice myself. Thanks, though.”

  “You’ve already practiced this morning.”

  “I practice twice a day. If you can wait a couple hours...maybe. We’ll see.”

  My stomach growled in protest. Between my hunger and her playing hard to get, I think my stomach was going to win. “No, I probably can’t wait that long. So you want to meet at the same time tomorrow?”

  Anna took up her blade, staring intently ahead. “Works for me.”

  I left her room and made my way back to my hab. After two months in Skyhome, I finally got the chance to see Anna a little more. Nothing had happened between us. At least, not yet. Even if I thought I was picking up some flirtatious vibes from her, it always looked as if she was doing her best to suppress them. Which made sense; after all, we were all here for the mission. But when you spend a lot of time with someone, you can’t help but think about them.

  So far, Anna had only agreed to help train me to use the katana. I wanted a backup, in case I somehow couldn’t use my gun, but I think we both knew that I was just using training as an excuse to get to know her. I had learned a lot, but I was still a long way from being even semi-competent. All the same, I appreciated everything I was
learning, and it was nice to see her.

  Still, after two months, I was hoping that things could have progressed a little more with Anna. And I wasn’t just crazy. After all, it was my hand she decided to grab down there on Earth, when the crawlers had been coming for us on the runway, and it was me she had snuggled with on the plane. And the way she looked at me sometimes, when she thought I wasn’t looking...well, let’s just say there had to be something there.

  Hopefully, the right opportunity would present itself.

  ***

  Back in my hab, I practiced the meditation Anna taught me. I was failing miserably. No matter how much I tried, my thoughts kept spinning out of control. I’ve always been a sufferer of the disease known as “thinking too much.”

  I was grateful when a knock came at the door. Hoping it was Anna, I went to answer. I pressed the exit button, causing the metal door to slide open. I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed when it was Samuel, standing in his characteristic muscle shirt and camo pants. His head, as usual, was shaved bald, and his facial features were sharp and toned. Even after all the R&R, he had been working out. That was Samuel’s way – everything he did was for the purpose of succeeding in our mission.

  “We’re all meeting in Ashton’s office to go over the final phase of the mission at 19:30.”

  “Alright. I need to eat still.”

  “Make it quick. You have fifteen. Anna and Makara are already waiting.”

  “What are we going over?”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I asked. “I thought we still had a couple weeks.”

  “It’s go time, kid,” he said. “My arm’s healed, and if we stay up here any longer, we’ll go soft. Besides, the xenovirus isn’t taking any breaks.”

  I guessed that much was true. “Alright. I’ll head over.”

  As Samuel walked away, a surge of energy rushed through me. Tomorrow, we’d be back on the planet, doing something that mattered. I was already starting to feel more alive. Makara had been training to pilot the Odin. Ashton himself had been teaching her, in the mornings, and they had run some test atmosphere re-entries, and even some landings. Basically, anything she’d have to do during the mission, Ashton had taught her. He had told me that she was a natural. That made sense, because she drove the Recon like a pro on our way to Bunker One. It didn’t surprise me that she also had an affinity for piloting the Odin.

  I left my hab, entering the main corridor of the Mid Ring. It was time to head to the commons for a bite.

  The Mid Ring’s main corridor was hard to get used to. It curved slightly upward along its entire length. The whole thing made a circle, and was always spinning to supply Skyhome with artificial gravity. The Mid Ring was divided into four Quadrants – Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. Charlie Quadrant contained the commons, the clinic, and an archive, where there were computers. In Charlie was a rec room with a large screen used for movies. The rest of the Quadrants were dedicated to habs, mostly. My hab, along with Anna’s, was in Delta Quadrant. Makara’s and Samuel’s were each in Alpha.

  Then there were the two other Rings – the Outer Ring and the Inner Ring. The Outer was where all food was grown hydroponically. The Outer also contained recycling tanks and water reclamation units, or WRUs. Most of the water was dedicated to watering crops in the Outer Ring, but every molecule of it was saved and recycled with near 100 percent efficiency. Any time there was a shortfall, which only happened once every few years, Gilgamesh returned to Earth, filled up, and made up the difference.

  For power, solar collectors were attached to the outside of the Outer Ring. Altogether, they took in more energy than the station would ever need. There was also a backup fusion generator, the same kind that ran the spaceships, in Skyhome’s central nexus. In the event of a massive solar flare, the solar collectors would probably be blown out, rendering them useless until they could be replaced.

  The crops of the Outer Ring provided oxygen, and Skyhome’s citizens provided carbon dioxide. State-of-the-art filtration and monitoring technology made sure the air composition maintained a proper balance. In addition to the food grown in the Ring, chickens were also raised. They provided eggs and the occasional meat. Most Skyhome citizens had a full-time job growing crops and raising chickens. There were also specialized technicians and engineers who kept the orbiting city maintained and made repairs when needed. Dr. Ashton doubled as the station’s medical practitioner, even if biological research was his main field of expertise.

  Of the three Rings, the Inner was the smallest. It contained administrative offices, including Ashton’s, and the inner workings of Skyhome, called the Central Nexus. The Nexus turned all three rings of the station, and consumed the most energy. It was where the backup fusion generator was located, complete with supply of deuterium and tritium to create the Helium-4 necessary to power the station for two months, if solar panels needed to be replaced.

  Connecting all of the Rings were the four tunnels (also named Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta, depending on what Quadrant they were located in). The tunnels were arranged like the spokes of a wheel. Along Alpha Tunnel, between the Mid and Inner Rings, was the hangar, where both Gilgamesh and Odin were docked.

  Skyhome’s construction in the 2020s had pushed experts and engineers to the limits. It was no wonder they had only constructed one Skyhome when the original plan had called for six. All the same, Skyhome’s operations were fascinating. It amazed me that the United States pulled off its construction; it was also amazing that Ashton and others had been able to utilize it following the fall of both Bunker One and Bunker Six.

  When I reached the commons, I grabbed a bowl of vegetable stew from one of the kitchen staff and sat down to eat. Once done, I headed over to Ashton’s office in the Inner Ring. I stood before the metal blast door before pressing the entrance button. The door hissed open, allowing me to walk in.

  I had only been in Ashton’s office a few times. Rather large, the office contained his built-in metal desk, lines of file cabinets along one wall, and a large workbench on the opposite wall. The workbench was filled with tools and objects of Ashton’s mechanical tinkering. The office was rectangular in shape, and at the end of it, three large ports looked out onto the surface of Earth, a vibrant green and violet and red.

  Ashton sat behind his desk, regarding me with sharp blue eyes as I walked forward. The others were already here. I went to stand between Anna and Makara, as Samuel stood to the right of Ashton’s desk, arms folded. On Ashton’s desk rested a thin monitor, and on a corner several binders were neatly stacked. The surface of the planet spun slowly beyond the port, due to the Inner Ring’s rotation.

  “Let’s get started,” Ashton said brusquely.

  Ashton’s accent was hard to pin down. He had been born before Ragnarok; his voice carried a hint of southeastern regionalism that was most likely all but gone from the world. My only way of determining his accent was from movies I had seen back in Bunker 108 – which, admittedly, wasn’t a perfect measure.

  “The purpose of this meeting is to give you an update on the situation, and what we’re going to do about it. As it stands, you all will be heading down to Earth tomorrow to resume the next phase of your mission. You will be heading to the Nova Roma Empire to speak with Augustus – make him agree to lay down arms and join us in the fight against Ragnarok. Meanwhile, my job is to monitor your mission from afar while trying to pin down the exact location of the Voice.”

  “Have you figured anything out on that front?” Anna asked.

  “Some,” Ashton said. “Makara and I have taken Odin on a few flybys of Ragnarok Crater, in hopes of securing more accurate measurements. It has helped, and we have pinpointed the origin of the Voice within twenty miles. I need to get a more accurate measure, however. When our assault on the Crater begins, you must be able to find the Voice quickly, and destroy it, before you are overwhelmed. I still need more information, and if I do two more flybys of the Crater, I will be ab
le to triangulate the point of origin of the Voice. That’s what I’ll be doing while you are on the surface. I’m confident that with another few months, I’ll know the exact location of the Voice.”

  “Alright,” I said. “What’s our job until then?”

  “There are four major powers in North America. There is the Nova Roman Empire, by far the strongest, and the one who should be approached first. There are also the Los Angeles gangs and Vegas gangs, both of which are quite sizeable. Last of all are Bunkers 76 and 88. Neither have responded to my radio calls, but that doesn’t mean they are not there. Both have weapons and supplies that would be invaluable in the attack.”

  “Why Nova Roma first?” I asked.

  “They are the most powerful. If Emperor Augustus can be convinced to help us, it will make the other Wasteland leaders fall into line. There is also the matter of the war between the Empire and Raider Bluff. That must be stopped before it can even begin. That involves speaking to Augustus in person.”

  “It just seems like a very difficult thing to do,” I said.

  Ashton looked at me sternly. “Nonetheless, it must be done. Do you think I would send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable of it? If not you, who else?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, so I didn’t say anything.

  “It will be difficult,” Samuel said. “But it is absolutely necessary. The Wasteland cannot be caught up in a war at a time like this. We need to lay down the facts for Augustus before he does anything stupid.”

  “So,” Anna said, “do we just walk into his house or something? That sounds like a risky maneuver.”

  “Yes, that is the plan,” Ashton said. “Soon you will know everything. But before I get to the how, it’s useful to give you all a little bit of background.” Ashton looked at me. “The story I have to tell relates to your father, Alex.”

  I was really surprised. What could my father and Cornelius Ashton have in common?

  “You knew my father?”

  Ashton smiled. “I met him, long ago. He was still a boy. Eight, nine years old perhaps.”

 

‹ Prev