Home Planet: Apocalypse (Part 2)

by T. J. Sedgwick

I needed to string this out. At the same time, care was needed—these guys were edgy as hell.

  The manacles landed at my feet and Number-9 looked on expectantly.

  I checked my watch: 12:05 p.m.—still fifteen minutes to go.

  “Put them on!” barked the young guard.

  I listened, but all I heard was the breeze—no shuttle, no escape.

  18

  The manacles lay just outside of my shallow grave-shaped hole. Number-9—the young lead guard—looked mad, but screw him. If he was going to shoot me, he would’ve done it by now. Clearly, his orders were find and capture not seek and destroy. My main concern was one of them getting jumpy and blowing my head off by mistake.

  “I said put on the manacles.”

  “Why don’t you come and do it?” I said, sending him a defiant grin.

  His pride was on the line now. He couldn’t lose face in front of his men. But he was a good head-height shorter than me and sixty pounds worse off.

  A pregnant pause followed before he motioned with his rifle.

  The wind picked up and something piqued my interest, something faint and ephemeral, high pitched and unnatural. Then it died away with the waning breeze. It had arrived from the south, from the direction the other two sleds had traveled.

  “Last chance, Outlander!” called Number-9.

  “Or what? You’ll ask again?” I taunted.

  “No, we’ll beat you then put them on you anyway. So you may as well—”

  And then the back of his head exploded in a red mist of blood and gore as a distant gunshot rang out from the southeast.

  I dove into my hole and picked up the rifle as Number-9’s already-dead body crumpled to the snow and his men got over their wide-eyed disbelief and started scattering. Peeking up from the recess, a guy approached wrongly thinking I’d give him cover. As he neared, he raised his rifle, but I’d already trained mine and shot him first. He fell with the shot to the chest as I grasped for the spare rounds in my pocket and loaded another. Several more gunshots reported from the distance and by time I looked up, I counted three more guards down. A few had taken shelter behind their rusty steel sleds while others remained in the open. I took aim and got one in the back as another guard stumbled to the deck just before reaching the sled. With my head back down, I reloaded and peeked over the top. Six guards remained, all sheltering on the northwest side of the sleds. They’d heard their hidden enemy’s gunshots, too, but they had no target except for me. The incoming fire forced my head down, but their poor accuracy, my concealment and the angle of attack combined to keep me safe. After the initial attempts, incoming fire became sporadic. The gunfire from the southeast had ceased, but the high-pitched noise had returned until there was no longer any doubt. My watch read 12:10 p.m. as the shuttle’s maneuvering thrusters announced their arrival from inside the clouds. I turned on my side and beamed uncontrollably.

  What a sight for sore eyes, I thought, watching the commanding gray craft descend toward me.

  It hovered thirty feet from the ground to my east, then oriented its nose at the wide-eyed enemy. To them, it must’ve been like an alien encounter or perhaps their religious dogma told them it was a beast sent by the Devil. Then unexpectedly, the four thrusters sent the craft into a one-eighty degree turn while simultaneously easing it down. It slid in reverse, descending just thirty feet to my northeast with its rear section between the cowering enemy and me. The familiar shapes of the cargo door and the stubby delta winglets and low tailfin came into view. Even the thrusters were as loud as an idling turbofan, but the lack of the main engines’ deafening roar spared my eardrums. Four hatches flipped open and out grew telescopic landing stalks before the shuttle touched down. Through the gap below the fuselage, I could see the six guards making no moves, hostile or otherwise. They seemed transfixed, or perhaps petrified. The thrusters powered down and the sound of my breath and the light breeze returned. Moments later, the shrill drone of electrical servos pulled the thrusters into the fuselage, their apertures disappearing with the sliding of an internal cover.

  Barely audible voices arrived from the north. One guard was aiming at the shuttle, while another seemed to be persuading him not to. Then the muzzle flash from his gun announced the shot milliseconds before the sound radiated across the ice field. The bullet ricocheted off the downward sloping cargo door and into the snow. Another pause followed the muffled sounds of something retracting inside the shuttle. The whir of actuators broke the calm and the cargo door slowly hinged down to form a ramp onto the snow.

  And there she stood. Laetitia, in full marine combat armor, carrying two assault rifles. She looked calm and fearless as she turned to me, her face behind the transparent helmet visor. Dark green body armor covered her torso, arms and legs.

  “For you,” she called out and threw me one of the assault rifles with two spare magazines taped to the stock.

  I removed the mags and pocketed them, then checked the gun over.

  Moments later, the enemy opened fire on her, sending her into an expert roll to her right. They’d missed and she’d ended in a crouched firing position, immediately returning a withering volley of fire, hitting one guard in the lower leg.

  He writhed on the ground as his buddies reloaded frantically. Laetitia was already advancing in a wide arc, flanking the men to the northeast, maintaining her steady aim using the medium-range optical sight. Despite her advantages, she wasn’t invincible, and I poured on some covering fire. It caused the Valdus’ men to file around to the north, out of my firing arc. They’d left the guy with the leg injury, though, clearly not subscribing to the no-one-left-behind philosophy. I put him out of his misery as Laetitia came at them from the north, opening up with precise three-round bursts. The ice fields fell silent. Seconds later, Laetitia walked calmly from behind the sled and toward me. I stood, smiling, genuinely happy to see her. She was a fearsome warrior that I hoped I’d never come up against. She sent a smile back and flipped up her visor unveiling her beautiful face.

  “Am I ever glad to see you,” I said, feeling as though a hug was appropriate but being met with a handshake.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Luker. All proximate enemies have been neutralized.”

  I looked her up and down.

  “Look at you. You’ve come ready for World War III!”

  “You informed me that the landing zone may be hot, so I came prepared.”

  I chuckled and said, “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

  Her head turned slightly to look past me, to the south and her smile melted away. She took a few steps and I turned to see what she was looking at.

  “You see that? You hear it?” she said.

  I held my breath and listened, squinting to the extent of my visual acuity. Nothing.

  “More men and dogs are approaching from the south. Do you wish to engage them?”

  “What instructions has Reichs given you?”

  “My mission parameters are to report back with possibilities for repairing the Juno Ark, to look for suitable places for his habitation and to protect you unless it conflicts with the first two objectives.”

  “Great, so I’m the third most important objective?”

  “Yes, Mr. Luker. That is correct.”

  I shook my head smiling. At least she was honest. At least she was on my side.

  “No, Laetitia, we don’t need to engage them. There’s a far worthier target than these soldier-wannabes. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  She gave a curt nod and we disappeared into the shuttle.

  Three minutes later, we were in the air, flying north through thick, white cloud at Mach 0.9. I’d talked her out of engaging the main engines, which could’ve taken us supersonic. The thrusters were quiet and I didn’t want them tracking us, as limited as their mobility was. Besides, there wasn’t far to go—not relative to the shuttle’s range, anyway.

  On the way, I told her about discovering the city in the ice and its despotic ruler, Valdus. After ten
minutes or so the shuttle climbed, then leveled off above the San Antonio range. She just sat impassively, listening with the occasional question of clarification. Her listening skills sure beat most humans I’d met, many of whom needed one more ear and one less mouth. Then came the part about my so-called trial and punishment in the Games. Finally, I told her about the bravery of Alexa, Myleene and Cortez and our escape from the clutches of tyranny. The shuttle slowed and descended to the predetermined coordinates in a glaciated valley amongst the mountains. We hovered below the cloud layer and Laetitia carried out an all-spectrum scan of the environs, finding no life, human or otherwise. To save on fuel, she landed the shuttle and we walked past the passenger section to the cargo hold at the rear.

  “Wow, quite an arsenal. Where’d you get all this stuff?” I said, eyeing the boxes of ammo, grenades, a selection of weapons and another suit of body armor, extra large.

  “Mostly Module 2.”

  That was the military module, the one with no gravity and no life support.

  “Easy, when you don’t need air.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Luker. So what is your proposal?”

  “My proposal is two-fold. First, I’d like to pay our friend Valdus the not-so-great-marshal a visit. There are hundreds if not thousands of people under his rule and ... well, I saw things I hoped I’d never see. He treats them worse than animals; he needs to be removed. Permanently.”

  She tried to interrupt, but took the hint when I held up my hand.

  “Before I take him down, there’s something I need from him,” I continued.

  “And what is that?” she asked.

  “Information in preparation for part two.”

  “Explain.”

  “The second place we’re going is Hawaii. Ever been there?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it used to be nice according to Juliet. Anyway, Hawaii is apparently home to an advanced city—I heard it from Valdus and I heard it from Cortez. Rumor has it that survivors from the Juno made it there. If anyone knows about Hawaii, it’s Valdus. He told me a story about some visitors from there that arrived in a light aircraft. A damn light aircraft in this place!”

  No response, so I continued.

  “So anyway, he and his father met with them, found out all about them and then murdered them for flying in a plane.”

  “Why did they kill them for that?”

  “Valdus has some strange beliefs, one of which is that flying is sinful and ungodly. Apparently, it carries the death penalty.”

  “Then, by his measure, we are criminals.”

  “According to Valdus we are. Yet another reason why he needs to go.”

  “So what do you hope to find in Hawaii, Mr. Luker?”

  “Answers, help, a place to settle perhaps.”

  “Going to Hawaii is consistent with Arnie’s instructions. Interrogating and toppling Valdus is not.”

  “Explain.”

  “Certainly. My mission parameters are—”

  “Yeah, you said: repair the ship, find a nice place for Reichs and you to play happy families and protect yours truly.”

  “Correct. Going to Hawaii fulfills the first of them. If it is the most advanced place on Earth, they may have the expertise and resources we need to fix the ship.”

  I somehow doubted it, given the lack of space presence, but who was I to dissuade her?

  She continued. “From what you have told me, it also sounds like the most habitable place, too. It is unnecessary to engage Valdus to go to Hawaii. We can go there directly.”

  I scoffed at her clear-cut logic, shaking my head in disagreement.

  “Laetitia, if you’d seen the living hell of Valdus’s world, you’d feel differently. I can’t leave those people under his rule. I just can’t.”

  Would she feel the same way had she seen it? I thought, cognizant of how easily one could forget she’s an android.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Luker, but I cannot deviate from my mission.”

  I had to think of another approach.

  “So I’ll go alone and you’ll need to protect me. Remember the third mission parameter?”

  “I would protect you by stopping you from going,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  My last try and if this failed I was all out of ideas.

  “So you’re good with investigating Hawaii?”

  “Yes, as I already confirmed.”

  “So what if we turn up there and it’s ruled by a despot like Valdus, except one with advanced technology like surface to air missiles? This is a civilian shuttle, not an armored gunship. And what if we land and they have a hostile well-equipped army? We may be good, Laetitia, but we can’t take on an entire army.”

  She stood impassively, as though detached from reality while processing the challenge to her logic. Eye contact returned and the beginnings of a smiled turned up her perfectly formed lips.

  “Your logic is robust, Mr. Luker. Intelligence from Valdus could be useful in determining whether a greater threat exists on Hawaii. Militarily, the soldiers we have encountered so far have been weak. They carry primitive weapons unable even to penetrate the cargo doors,” she said, looking over to where the round had struck. There was no sign of internal damage.

  “So do we have ourselves a deal?” I said, holding out my hand.

  She took my hand and pumped it firmly, smiling. “Yes, Mr. Luker, we have ourselves a deal.”

  19

  That night, we set down the shuttle at a location several miles from the Cube building—the trading center and scene of my escape. Our reconnaissance of the stark entrance lobby had shown a stepped-up security presence—more guards and another machine gun nest behind a third floor window overlooking the entrance. It would’ve been hard to see without the night vision and IR functions of the helmet visor. Laetitia used her built-in sensors for the same purpose. On returning to the shuttle, we’d flown back to a secluded location deep in the San Antonio range. There, I’d sketched out our insertion route from memory. We agreed to the plan and prepared the load-out before a final security sweep around the shuttle and some well-deserved rest. For me, that meant sleep. For Laetitia—apart from wireless charging via the shuttle’s power grid—I don’t know what she did. Reported back to Reichs, I expected.

  ***

  I awoke late, and after getting some calories, we spent most of the day going through the plan and contingencies in fine detail. Waiting until the second night was a deliberate move to let the heat die down a little, take the edge off a shaken enemy. In the late afternoon, I had a nap ready for the nighttime insertion.

  ***

  At 2 a.m. local time, the shuttle quietly eased onto the ice field two miles north of the Cube.

  Laetitia powered down the shuttle, plunging the cargo hold into absolute darkness. After an equipment and weapons check, I activated my visor’s nightvision.

  “Ready?” I said through the helmet’s headset.

  “Yes,” came her reply.

  The cargo door whirred to life and descended to the snow as a ramp.

  “Let’s go, Laetitia.”

  And we stepped into the starlit night, the glow from the three ancient skyscrapers off to the south like beacons across the icy wasteland. I scanned the featureless area around the shuttle. The whole scene looked eerie in shades of night vision green. I regarded Laetitia doing her sweep, dressed in full marine combat gear complete with assault rifle, .45 cal sidearm and a selection of grenades—the same gear as I wore myself. She was fearsome enough without body armor. With it, she could take on an army—an army with no heavy weapons, at least. Switching to infrared, I repeated the recce and reconfirmed no threat. She closed the cargo door and we set off south toward the Cube. A snow dune hid its bottom few floors as well as those of the Sigma Tower in the center. To the left, only a single dim light remained at the largely unused Hertford Building. After a mile and a half, we reached the ridge of the snow dune and the bright, amplified light of the Cube’s lobby came into full view. Lyin
g prone, I studied the Trade Control lobby through binoculars, searching for anything that had changed since I escaped with Cortez, Alexa and Myleene. None of the fourteen customs officer tables were manned, but conversely, the number of guards had doubled to a dozen. All had rifles. All wore the blue coveralls of inside guards, not the dirty white of outside guards. Most of them looked bored as they hung around talking and leaning against walls. One guard had his head down on a customs table, apparently asleep. Two more men manned the machine gun nest to the left of the gaping entrance. One looked attentive, the other looked asleep. I directed the binoculars at the third floor, where the newly emplaced machine gun sat. Only the top of the gunner’s head was visible behind the sandbags. There was one last thing I had to check as I redirected my scrutiny back to the Trade Control lobby. My eyes scanned over the cinder block rear wall, which sectioned off the lobby from the sled parking lot behind. And there it was, the missing block. I still couldn’t work out what it was for. Perhaps so they could keep an eye on traders’ sleds or so that traders could identify them for guard inspection.

  “Confirm no change from yesterday night,” I said.

  “Yes, I concur,” said Laetitia, her voice loud and clear in my helmet headset.

  “Right, let’s move.”

  We crossed the ice field without incident, making our way toward the Cube. Scanning the way ahead for threats, we rounded the Cube and entered the dark, deserted sled park backing onto the lobby. A shaft of light cut through the freezing air via the missing cinder block in the center of the rear wall. Along with the starlight outside, it was enough for us to clearly navigate the nine sleds, some empty, some containing lignite, others still covered with tarps. Somewhere to the right, dogs howled as if sensing our ingress.

  “Damn dogs,” I heard one of the guards grumble.

  “Yeah, blame the traders. Them southern boys don’t feed their huskies enough. Makes ‘em grouchy.”

  “Makes me grouchy,” replied the first guy.

  The barking and howling died down and we neared the cinder block wall. Standing back from the missing block, I crouched down and caught sight of my target. Now came the critical moment as I checked the silencer on my assault rifle, selected single shot and raised the stock to my shoulder. The assault rifle would detect the noise suppressor and automatically reduce the muzzle velocity. Combined, it would deaden the sound to a few decibels. Above the wide entrance were the ragged remnants of a concrete wall decorated with a covering of lichen and rusted rebar stumps. An electrical cable ran to a junction box from the right to halfway along this strip of concrete between the ceiling and the entrance. Cables snaked their way across the ceiling from the junction box to half a dozen lights hanging from the ceiling. Electrical standards had really gone downhill.