by Chris Hechtl
<>V<>
When Harper broke the news to his squad, they were all bitter over the deaths. He could tell they hated it, but the deaths were a distant thing. Their eyes were on the perimeter. Death stalked them all; it was best to focus he thought with a mental nod approval. His eyes went to the flight crew. They were a different story. Unfortunately, he hadn't trained with any of them either. Obviously they weren't prepared mentally for this potential outcome.
“We need to stay on mission. In medicine, it's called triage; we focus on those we can help. We will mourn our friends later. For now, we've got a job to do. Focus on that people, focus on the living,” Harper intoned, aware his voice was leached of all emotion. He would deal with the pain later, for now it would have to be bottled away.
Ace and Copper sniffed the area, padding through the snow as they mapped the perimeter for them. While the duo were at it, they each put up their own doggy form of markers as well as dropped a few sensor devices or attached them to convenient trees or buildings. The simple devices were too stupid for the virus to get in and corrupt them or so they hoped. In a way it was a field test.
Harper was dismayed by the snow. It was a lot, and after surveying the landing strip, he was surprised they'd landed safely. The shuttle's heat had flash boiled some of the white stuff out of the way, and the shuttle's gear had snowplowed the rest. But the engineer was making noises about the possible damage to the gear from that unexpected load.
The snow was like glue, so unlike the powder he'd experienced when he'd gone skiing at the space resorts or on Mars. They were going to have to figure something out eventually.
<>V<>
“What happened? What's going on?” Boomer demanded, coming into the radio shack at a run. He pulled his coat on glancing around. Hallis waved him to shush frantically.
“Say again, Olympus?”
“We had a flight headed your way to give you support. It was lost with all hands. So were the other shuttles. It was a massacre. Only two managed to get to space, both damaged to various degrees,” Lieutenant Takai said. “So I'm sorry; you folks are on your own for a while, at least until we figure out a way around this.”
Boomer looked at Hallis. The other man looked ready to argue, to fight, to beg or bribe, but when Hallis saw Boomer's look, he seemed to slump. The fight just going out of him like a balloon. The man put a hand over his face. “Story of our lives it seems,” he finally said.
“Say again, McDonald?” the lieutenant asked. It took Boomer's sleepy mind a moment to remember their call sign was McDonald since they were on a farm. The ancient song, “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” sing songed in his head ever so briefly. He tried to get rid of it and focus his sleepy mind.
“Nothing,” Hallis said. “McDonald out,” he said, hanging the transmitter up. He looked around; puffing his cheeks for a moment then looked at Boomer. “You heard?”
“The last part,” he said, crossing his arms.
Hallis studied him then looked away. “Apparently the powers that be wanted to send shuttles down. Six here, the rest on the other continents. The idea was since America was only lightly touched, they could use the manpower here to springboard outwards. At least I think that was what they were planning; they didn't tell me in so many words of course,” he said.
Boomer nodded slowly. He could understand and appreciate that. They were on an open channel and didn't want the enemy to overhear.
“Well, it failed. The birds were shot down as you heard. We're on our own. They won't risk another shuttle flight.”
“So, we've got to make it safe here, clear the bucket heads out, then find the places that took the shuttles out and take them out?”
“Right,” Hallis said. He grimaced. “It's impossible I know.”
Boomer thought for a moment then shrugged. “Impossible no. Just a bitch. But life is a bitch, and I plan to go down fighting or not at all if I can help it,” he said as others came into the room behind him. He looked over his shoulder to them then back to Hallis. “So if we can't have someone else come to our rescue, I guess we'll have to step up and save ourselves.”
Hallis stared at him.
Roger and Shawn swore behind him. Boomer turned to them then back. “It's high time we stop whimpering and hiding here, waiting for the food to run out. We have to attack,” he said with a grim smile.
“Now you're talking!” Shawn said, high fiving Roger behind Boomer's back. Boomer's eyes were on Hallis. From Hallis's expression the guy didn't like the idea of risking his ass, but he'd done it once already.
“Hell,” Hallis muttered. “What have we got to lose at this point?” he muttered with a nod to Boomer. Boomer returned the nod.
<>V<>
Ares intercepted the radio transmission of course; it monitored and recorded all such transmissions. It pinpointed the ground transmitter as it sectioned off a server to process the content of the message.
If it was to be believed, the enemy was not going to send additional forces. Nor did they ask the ground element to intercede to pave the way for additional shuttles. That was good.
It marked the site as a hostile base and then tasked a drone to recon it if it was in the area. None were available for some time however. That was suboptimal, but since the transmissions had all come and gone from the same point on the ground it could be assumed that the tango was not mobile in nature. They were also not presenting an immediate threat to Ares or its infrastructure nor that of Skynet.
It could, therefore, detail units to deal with them when it had them available at a later date.
<>V<>
The next morning Ace alerted on something. He turned in place, waking Copper. Copper looked up, sniffing the air. He was tired, the air stank and made his eyes water, the water stank, and he missed home. But a familiar scent cut through the air, telling him someone he knew was near.
“Is that Donnie?” Copper asked, rising as his tail began to wag. He yodel barked, happy.
The rest of the team jerked, reaching for their weapons. Ace turned a glower on the pup. “Shut it!” He snarled, teeth bared.
Copper's mouth clopped shut. He instantly sat, then dropped to lie on the ground in submission under that intense baleful gaze.
Harper was wary, but when Paudrick whistled the all clear, he felt tension he hadn't realized had been stored up ooze out of his body. Slowly he straightened as a ragged group of survivors along with a familiar looking NeoDoberman came up the road.
Fiben looked up to the sky, then to the team. He nodded to Ace, who nodded back. Donnie looked to him so he waved him forward. Donnie took off as a tan, black, and white bloodhound got up and caroled a welcome. Ace turned a glower on the pup, but he had his head to the sky and was oblivious. The Neochimp saw the Doberman shake his head, ears flat. He snorted.
“Are you Bollinger?” Harper asked, nodding to the chimp.
“That's me. Clive bought it. Are you are extract team?” he asked, looking at the snow bound shuttle. The crew was under the wing in a trench that had melted. The snow around the aircraft had melted a bit, but in the freezing cold it had turned to rock hard ice. He didn't envy anyone who had to dig her out.
That thought made him pause to stare. He would have to be that guy, he thought, cursing softly.
“What?” Harper asked, looking at the chimp curiously, then to the shuttle.
“It's a one-way trip. No way you can get that bird back in the air. Not with the strip under snow and ice,” Fiben said, shaking his head.
Harper grunted. He looked at the shuttle for a long moment, then back to the others. Finally his eyes settled on the flight crew. “Do me a favor and don't tell them that yet just yet. They need a goal.”
Fiben glanced at Harper then to the group of humans huddled in blue flight suits and red jackets, then away. “Right,” he grunted. “Morale,” he said.
“Yeah. Besides, we might get it dug out and back up.”
“The cold isn't doing the bird any good. Stuff freezes … expa
nds …”
Harper winced and turned a glower on the chimp. “What'd I just finish saying?” he demanded. Others turned to look at them. Fiben grunted again and then nodded slowly.
“Okay, we obviously got off to the wrong foot here,” he said, holding out a hand. “Fiben. Fiben Bollinger, Lagroose Industries SAR rep team leader, Northwestern South American sector.”
“Harper Collins. Medic and team lead of scout team 6. Glad to meet you, Fiben,” he said with a trace of a smile.
“Glad to be met,” Fiben replied. The two Neochimps shook hands.
“Come on. You stink, and we need to get you fed and geared up. We were going to look into better quarters, if we can find any,” Harper said, tugging on an ear as he looked around. The snow was a pain in the ass; it became disorienting to look at. The low light level didn't help either.
“Have you called higher?” Fiben asked.
Harper shook his head. “I was about to report in. We're supposed to do it every four hours.”
“Okay. I've got some stuff to report too. But I'm not sure about doing it over an open channel,” he admitted.
Harper pointed to the laser link Baxter and Paudrick had set up. “Whisker laser, direct to Olympus. Encrypted just to be on the safe side. You're good, or at least as good as it gets. Don't you want to get sorted out first though?” he asked.
“In a bit. I suppose just telling them I am here and who is with me should do for the moment,” Fiben said, shivering under his improvised poncho. He'd been nice and given the skin of the leopard to Asa and her daughter. Not that they had appeared grateful. The smell was bad.
“Right,” Harper said. He waved to Baxter then pointed to Fiben and his crew. “Baxter, these folks are dumb enough, um, I mean hungry enough to try your cooking,” he said. Fiben shot him a mock horrified, amused look. Harper just smirked. “Set them up and get them changed.”
“Righty-oh, boss,” Baxter said. He waved politely to the group. “This way, folks. Don't mind his wise ass, he's just aching for a butt kickin’,” he said. That got an amused smile from Kelsy.
<>V<>
Once they were fed, clothed, and occupied, Fiben went over to Baxter's radio setup and reported their last robotic incident in detail. He went into detail about how the robots seemed to ignore Donnie. “I'm not sure what it means, but it means something. A possible blind spot maybe? I don't know. I think it is something we can exploit though,” he offered. He glanced at Ace and the other two dogs than to the transceiver.
When no one responded at first, he frowned. He hoped the damn thing was secure. He also hoped the other end was air gapped. Was that what they called it? Did they have a destruct package inside the transceiver? He eyed it with suspicion. Best not to be near it if it did he thought, making a mental note.
“Thank you for the concise report,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We've recorded it. Do you have anything to add at this time?”
“No. We don't know where the local population is or where most of the robots are. Speculation is that they, they meaning the robots, chased the population off into the jungle. What happened to both sides is anyone's guess. The weather could have taken both sides; it's that nasty down here.”
“Understood.”
“If you haven't heard, the shuttle you sent down is a bit banged up. The landing field needs to be plowed and the shuttle repaired and refueled before she can fly again. And I'm not thrilled about flying in her,” Fiben said. “Not unless I have no other choice,” he growled.
“Already in Lieutenant Collin's report. Thank you. Olympus out,” the other person said, and then cut the channel.
“Well,” Fiben said, hanging the microphone up. “Lieutenant?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. Harper hadn't introduced himself with any sort of rank.
“Boss man is that way,” the guy named Paudrick said, pointing. Fiben looked at him then where he pointed. It looked like Harper was coming back from checking the perimeter. Since no one was screaming or firing, he guessed it was all quiet.
“So, you are a lieutenant? Am I supposed to salute or something?” Fiben asked.
“No saluting in the field,” Harper said when he came over. He looked around them. “We found a hangar but it's been caved in by the snow. Most of the small ones didn't hold up too well; they had flat roofs for some ungodly reason,” he said shaking his head at such stupidity.
“Yeah, you'd think in a jungle with all the rain they would have gone with a Quonset hut design or an arch or something smarter,” Fiben said.
“Where have you been hanging out?”
“A cave,” Fiben said, wrinkling his nose. “Playing cave men,” he said, indicating the discarded leopard skin. Harper looked at it. He frowned. “And yes, I killed it. By hand,” Fiben said.
Harper whistled silently and nodded. “Good to know,” he drawled. “So, we still have predators in the area.”
“Starving ones. I bet some of the pets are around too. People …, Fiben shrugged.
“They have to be around here somewhere. You'd have thought they would have been drawn out by our landing. It was hard to miss. I mean, you saw it,” he said.
“Yeah. For them and the robots. I'm counting my blessings actually,” Fiben replied dryly. Harper grunted.
“How bad are they?”
“Bad enough. Anything that has a computer in it is now programmed to kill you or at least hurt you. We ran into a trap a couple weeks ago,” he related the story to Harper. He noticed Paudrick and a few of the others not on duty leaned in, some taking a knee or listening while doing chores. Even the flight crew edged over closer to listen in.
When he finished a guy who turned out to be the flight engineer waved a hand to the shuttle. “Anyone have any idea on how to deal with the ice? It's getting everywhere.”
“I know. You've been checking the shuttle?”
“Yeah. But I'm talking about plowing the landing strip so we can get the hell out of here. Like we planned,” the engineer said, waving a hand.
“It's ice. It's like cement. Slippery as hell,” Baxter said, shaking his head. “We need a good thaw or barring that a jackhammer.”
“Or a blow torch,” Fiben said with a snort.
“Or a plow. A shovel we can use to get some of the snow out if we want to break our backs doing it. The shovels here aren't designed too well,” Baxter held up a shovel. It was a spade, designed to dig in the ground. It was also a short folding design. The handle could extend but seemed flimsy.
Fiben grunted. Apparently someone hadn't planned on the snow. It was obvious that the flight crew hadn't. He wondered how the other shuttles were fairing.
Harper watched the banter and nodded to Fiben. He was glad the other chimp had related the story but kept his tone professional and ended on a high note. His dissertation on the mistakes made, the weaknesses he'd found, and the things to watch out for had been priceless.
With Fiben's team they could get intel on the area and then slot them in to help out while pairs or quartets did outer sweeps pushing the perimeter out.
“We've got bodies,” Kelsy said warily as she came over. “Human and other and robots. Pat is taking the robots apart instead of busting them up. Less work that way he says,” she reported.
“Right,” Harper grunted.
“Pat is an engineer. He might be able to help you with the shuttle,” Fiben said, looking to the flight engineer. “But we need him on a thousand and one projects. He was working on a space heater for instance.”
“Got one,” Baxter said, pointing to a small brick-like device. “It's just not on because it melts the snow and sinks to the ground.”
“You could use that to thaw the ice but you'd be at it all day,” Kelsy said. She looked at the bird and then the group. “You guys realize one good snowstorm, maybe two, and this bird will be buried completely, right? We're on the clock.”
“We know that. We're working on figuring out a solution,” the flight engineer said darkly. “Got any ideas?”
Kelsy shook her head. From the engineer's expression, it was clear to everyone that she wasn't helping and that she should shut up. She returned his glower measure for measure until Harper cleared his throat.
“Hey! Look what we found! Dinner!” a guy said, holding something up by the tail.
Fiben looked at it but wasn't certain what it was until the soldier brought it closer. When he did the chimp grunted. Apparently they had found a frozen carcass of a dog-sized dinosaur. In life it had been a beautiful thing, with bright vibrant feathers and a bird-like attitude. Now it was carrion. The animal had been a gene-engineered pet. From the look of its torso, it had died due to a low caliber gunshot wound.
“It's been shot.”
“Not unusual. We found others. There is a chicken coop of some sort. I think they might have been using them to fight or something,” the soldier said shaking his head. “I'll toss it outside the perimeter,” he said.
“No, give it here,” Fiben ordered, hand out.
“What?”
Harper glanced at him. Fiben made a grasping motion. The soldier glanced at the lieutenant, shrugged and then dragged the meat in. “You don't let this shit go to waste, trust me,” Fiben said, pulling a knife out.
“We've got food,” Harper said, putting a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging.
“For now. Only for now. You need to learn to live off the land if you are going to survive here. Trust me on this. Keep your food as a reserve for when you'll need it the most. Like a blizzard that slams down and locks you in for a couple days,” the chimp stated as he got to work. “I wished I'd known it was here earlier. We've gone hungry plenty of times over the past month,” he growled as he worked. He licked his lips anticipating a good drumstick. The bird wasn't built with big breasts. He'd take what he could get, dark meat or not. Beggars really couldn't be choosers at this point.
“He's right,” Kelsy said, eying the dinosaur as Fiben worked at it. It seemed like it was slow going since it was frozen solid. “They taste like chicken anyway.” She grimaced. “Fiben, you'll need to thaw it first to carve it,” she observed. He grunted.
