by Scott Baron
“Grab a seat and get comfy,” Daisy said to the group. “It’s well over two hundred miles, and this thing only cruises at ninety. Catch some shut-eye and recharge, if you can.”
She then sat and leaned against the vibrating wall as the monorail car lurched into motion. Ten minutes later she was fast asleep.
Conrad, Montana, population eight thousand, made Bozeman feel like a sprawling metropolis by comparison. Where the latter was a ghost town, the former was barely a ghost rest stop. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky as they ascended the short staircase and stepped out into the fresh air of the town above.
“Four hours till sunset, I estimate,” Daisy said, looking skyward.
“Three hours, fifty-six minutes, to be exact,” Sergeant Franklin corrected.
Daisy shot him a joking glare.
“Sorry,” he said, tapping his metal head. “Computer. Good with numbers.”
Even without a flesh covering, his smile could best be called mischievous.
“Okay, George. Showoff,” Daisy replied as she looked over the scattered vehicles abandoned centuries earlier. “So, which of these do you think we stand a chance of getting running enough for our needs?”
The military cyborg scanned the empty roads. Pickings, like nuclear bomb-riding cowboys, were slim, but the former residents were tough country folk, and their rides were just as hardy.
“I like the capabilities of that eight-wheeler over there, but the tires are the older inflatable kind. No way they’ve survived this long.” He turned to the next-nearest vehicle. “The extended bed industrial pickup, however, might do the trick,” he said, gesturing toward a rust-peppered forestry service vehicle. “Those were meant for backwoods use. Run-flat tires that were solid amalgams, not inflated. If the drivetrain is intact, our power cells should be enough to get us to the silo.”
“And back?” Daisy asked.
“If we’re lucky.”
“Then let’s hope for a visit from Lady Luck. All right, let’s get to it.”
George Franklin’s men made quick work of the repairs, swapping out the original power source in minutes, and quick-fixing the rusty drivetrain in the process.
“Good to go, Sarge,” the cable-toting soldier said a few minutes later. “It’s not gonna make any long treks, but it’ll hold for the trip.”
“Okay, then. Load up, people,” Franklin said.
“Give me just a couple of minutes,” Daisy replied. “I know we’re so remote that we should be hundreds of miles from the nearest Chithiid work team, but I just want to double-check with Sid and make sure that they aren’t seeing any new movement in our area. Don’t want to fire up a vehicle only to catch their attention and have a ship come blazing down on us five minutes later.”
“Of course,” Franklin replied. “You heard the lady. Load up and sit tight. We’ll be moving just as soon as we get confirmation the area is secure for transit.”
Daisy set up her small transmitter and sent the encrypted message on its way. Given the security delay built in, she estimated it would be about seven minutes before they received an answer. Sid surprised her when he replied in six.
“Message received, Daisy. I’ve conferred with Mal, and based on the most recent imagery, as well as Bob’s scans from his latest drift run in orbit, your area appears clear. Nearest alien presence is over five hundred miles away, and from what we could tell, it’s a very minor work party at that. We will stand by for your next transmission. Good luck to you all.”
She quickly packed the unit up and hefted it into the bed of the truck, then jumped in beside it. The cyborg soldier standing guard slung his rifle over his shoulder and tossed his coil of cable in ahead of himself, then quickly scrambled in.
Tamara looked at him, then the cable, then back at him, her eyebrow saying more than words would.
The Faraday-suited metal man just shrugged.
An unsettling metal shriek emitted from the long-silent drivetrain, but within just a few moments, the ancient vehicle lurched to life and began the slow crawl over rough terrain.
Despite being inactive all those years, the truck made surprisingly good time as it lurched and bucked over the uneven ground. That is, until the ground eventually gave way to something far-less passable.
“Shit,” Daisy groaned.
“That’s not on the topographical maps.”
No, it isn’t, Daisy replied. You see any way across?
“Not from here,” Sarah replied. “I hate to say it, but we might be fucked.”
“Tamara, any ideas?” she asked the woman seated beside her.
The metal-armed woman was at a loss.
“Sorry, Daisy. You’ve got me.”
The gentle rumble of the flowing water was deceptive. The new river wasn’t a major tributary, but it was certainly enough to stymie their forward progress.
“How did this not show up on the maps?” Tamara griped, frustration tinging her voice.
“Something shifted in the last few hundred years,” Daisy replied. “Shit happens, and Mr. Murphy apparently stowed away with us on this trip.”
A loud whacking sound startled them both.
They spun around to see the metal-limbed soldiers rapidly felling trees with their salvaged axe. In short order, several decent-sized logs lay on the shore. One man would chop, while the others lashed the logs together.
“Are they making––?”
A raft. Yes, I actually think that’s what they’re doing, Daisy replied.
“Jefferson, get over there,” Sergeant Franklin said with a slight nod to one of his men.
“On it, Sarge,” the cyborg replied, then dropped his rifle and quickly swam the twenty meters to the other side.
Grabbing the coil of cable from the bed of the truck, the tin man retrieving it paused and let out an amused chuckle as he met Tamara’s surprised gaze.
“Never know what you’ll need it for. Just that you’ll need it,” he said with a laugh, then tied off one end before launching the coil across the waters to his waiting teammate.
“Everyone gather ‘round,” Franklin said.
The group did as he asked.
“We are going to push this raft to the shore and halfway into the river. It should support the weight of the vehicle, but as you all well know, shit happens, and Murphy is on our scent, so stay alert, and be ready to bail if need be. Don’t leave anything vital in the truck. Tie off gear to the cable with carabiners for easier retrieval should things go tits up. Is that clear?”
The group nodded their understanding.
“Okay, then. Let’s move this to the water, then load up. Jefferson will anchor the cable around that tree on the far end and help guide us to the other side. If all goes as planned, we should be across and on our way in no time. Now, get moving!”
The assembled cyborgs and humans moved as one, prepping for the risky departure, then, when all was ready, they loaded up, muscles tense and ready to jump ship if need be.
Didn’t expect this one.
“Nope. But you’ve gotta hand it to George and his men. The guys are pros.”
They’re impressive, that’s for sure. Now, let’s see if impressive translates into us not getting drowned less than ten miles from our goal.
“Always the optimist, aren’t you?” Sarah joked.
Hope for the best, expect the worst, and prepare for both, I always say.
She only hoped the former, not the latter, would be the order of the day.
Chapter Six
The river crossing had been a short and successful operation, quickly depositing the team on the opposite bank in relatively short order. Safely on solid ground once more, they quickly loaded into the industrial truck’s rusty bed and continued on their way.
“Nicely done, Sergeant,” Daisy thanked the metal man. “I hope we don’t have any more unexpected obstacles. Really not in the mood to cover the next ten miles on foot.”
Sergeant Franklin let out a little laugh.
; “I don’t think any of us wants to make that trek if we can avoid it, Daisy. Just because my legs are metal doesn’t mean I want to go on foot if it can be helped.”
“You getting lazy, Sarge?” Tamara joked.
“Not at all, LT.” He flashed a little grin. “But after several hundred years waiting around, not having to do forced marches and the like, I suppose you could say I’ve gotten used to the easy life.”
“You call this easy?” Daisy mused. “I’d hate to see your version of difficult.”
“Given what you’ve been up to this past week, I’d wager you could handle that just fine,” he replied with a laugh.
“Funny guy,” Sarah commented. “Dude has quite a sense of humor for a cyborg.”
Probably programmed that way back when he still had a flesh covering, so the humans under his command would feel more comfortable with him.
“Or it’s just who he is. Not everything is programming, you know. The second part of artificial intelligence is the word intelligence. Maybe this is just who he evolved into on his own.”
Perhaps, Daisy admitted. In any case, I’m glad he’s got our back.
The vehicle slowly jolted and bucked over the uneven terrain for the better part of an hour as it crept toward their destination. Daisy had fairly quickly decided the bumping ride would be far more comfortable without her spine-banging sword strapped uncomfortably to her back, opting to tuck the deadly weapon beside her instead as they lurched along.
Once upon a time, there had been a nondescript dirt road leading to the hidden-in-plain-sight military facility. Left unattended and untraveled, nature had quickly reclaimed that strip of clear access as its own, leaving an entirely untamed stretch of land to cross. It wasn’t quite the stuff of Donner Party legend, but everyone’s aching backs and butts would have appreciated a smoother ride.
“I don’t want to seem inappropriate,” a young man in their group said, “but are we there yet?”
“Next thing you know, he’s going to say he needs to pee,” Sarah muttered inside her head.
Daisy stifled a laugh.
“Thomas, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, dear lord, don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”
“Sorry, ma’–– uh, Daisy.”
“You’re somewhere north of a hundred years, Swarthmore. Better get used to being ma’amed,” Tamara said with a laugh, cheerful lines dancing around the corners of her eyes.
“One to talk, Tamara,” she shot back playfully. “Anyway, I believe we’re less than a mile from our target. Does that sound about right, George?”
Sergeant Franklin scanned their path a moment, though she knew it was all for the young man’s benefit. The tin soldier knew full well exactly where they were to within a few dozen meters.
“Your estimate seems about accurate,” he replied. “In fact, if you look to the left of that knoll up ahead on the right, you’ll see the top of the main building poking through the trees.”
Everyone shifted in their seats to get a better look. Indeed, the shape of what appeared to be a grain silo peeked through the tree line.
“Okay, we’re close,” Daisy said. “Sergeant Franklin and his men will lead the approach. There used to be a low-tier AI operating the surface facilities. We don’t know what countermeasures it may control, or if it is still operational, for that matter, so we’ll let the professionals make first contact. Any questions?”
“If there is an artificial intelligence operating, would it not be easier to connect it to the one who sent us on this task directly?” Thomas asked.
“Good question, son,” Sergeant Franklin replied. “And we will be connecting with Joshua to walk us through the ingress sequence, but the thing is, the facility was air-gapped and firewalled to ensure security in the event of an attack. If there is an active AI, and if it didn’t either melt down or go mad in the past few centuries, it may be able to provide us some information, but access was a separate system.”
“But if the men underground were sealed from the surface, wouldn’t they have survived the plague that ravaged the planet?” Thomas asked.
“Not in this case, sadly,” Sergeant Franklin replied. “In a simple alert situation that was not a condition-one attack scenario, the silos still had rotating shifts. In the absence of a pending physical attack, the crews rotated every week. Unfortunately, the seeming defeat of the invaders was, as we now know, a decoy. The plague they unleashed silently took hold, and when shifts changed, those who took up their posts inside were already long-infected as well.”
“Hadn’t thought about it till now, but what about submarines, Daze?”
I’m pretty sure their comms would have reported the situation up top, but even a self-contained sub needed to surface eventually. And even if their air could be purified and recirculated indefinitely, their food would eventually run out.
“So they would have surfaced knowing to do so was likely fatal.”
Probably did a torpedo tube lockout, swam up, gathered supplies, then swam back down. At least as long as they could do so in sealed dry suits with hard hat rigs, they’d be safe. Not a great way to spend the last years of your life. Daisy suppressed a small shudder at the thought.
“What are we likely looking at, George?” Daisy asked. “Electric fences? Automated defenses? Um… other things rhyming with ‘ences’?”
“There would likely be some basic deterrents, but the whole point was to keep the facility off-radar and as innocuous as possible. Electric fences and auto-cannons kind of scream, ‘Top-secret military base,” don’t you think?”
“So nothing to look out for?”
“I’m sure there are a few subtle countermeasures in effect, like sonic repellant and olfactory decoys.”
“Wait, olfactory what, now?” Tamara asked, sniffing the air.
“It was a classified deterrent system, but given our mission, and the fact the people we were protecting our systems from have been dead for centuries, I’m not too worried about spilling the beans,” Sergeant Franklin replied. “Most facilities had a two, or even three-tier system to simply make it uncomfortable for people snooping around.”
“But not fatal?” Tamara said.
“No, not fatal. Couldn’t go killing hikers and the like willy-nilly, now, could we?”
“Good to hear. We’re getting pretty close, now, and I wanted to make absolutely sure of that before it was too late. Go on. You mentioned sonic as well?”
“Well, the sonic element was much akin to what has been used for pest control for centuries, only in this case, the frequency is one designed to be inaudible, yet cause an unsettling sense of unease.”
“Like the infamous ‘Brown Note,’ eh?” Daisy quipped.
“Brown Note? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that one,” Sergeant Franklin replied.
“Oh. I figured you’d have heard of it.”
“Why brown, Daisy?” Tamara joined in. “Sound waves don’t have colors.”
“Heh, yeah, about that,” she began. “You see, in the beginning there was an unsettling note used in old horror films to add to the experience. The Exorcist was the first, so far as I know of. Apparently, theater workers even became ill from being subjected to it for multiple screenings.”
“When was this?” Tamara asked.
“Late twentieth century.”
“And you know all of this, why?”
“Vince and I watched a lot of old films, is all,” she replied.
A shadow fell across her spirits. Vince may have been a not-entirely organic man, but no matter how uncomfortable that made her, she had still loved him. Now, with his onboard AI wiped after being infected with the AI virus, it was all he could do to cling to life back in Los Angeles. Unconscious, unresponsive, and quite possibly gone forever.
Daisy shook herself free from the thought.
Not now, Daisy. Stay on task. We’ll worry about that when there’s time.
“For once, I agree,
” Sarah chimed in.
“Anyway,” she continued, forcing the frown from her face, “the Brown Note was a low bass note, ninety-two octaves below the lowest E-flat. It was a sound that allegedly caused instant diarrhea.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Well, you would be shitting you, technically,” Daisy said, a slight flush of amusement creeping past her flash of sadness. “I’ve never tried it myself, of course. I only hope the silo doesn’t employ it.”
Sergeant Franklin stared at the two women silently a moment longer.
“I have no idea where you dig this stuff up, Daisy, but I assure you, the sonic defenses are not of that variety.”
“And the olfactory ones?”
“A simple misdirection. Enter any prohibited space, and a fine aerosol replicating the foulest decaying corpse stench imaginable is emitted into the area. Testing showed that for all but the most hardened operators, it was enough to make most intruders immediately leave the area.”
“Hopefully you can interface with the system before we get too close and help us avoid that bit of unpleasantness,” Daisy said.
“That’s the plan,” he replied. “And speaking of which, it looks like we’re here,” he said as they slowed to a halt.
The fence had long ago fallen, the sprawling wild reclaiming the soil until no sign remained. The trio of buildings, however, were intact. Weathered, and looking worse for wear, but intact.
The vehicle rumbled slowly forward and pulled to a stop fifty meters from the structures. The grain silo, which actually had been designed to hold grain––though merely to complete the deception––was in decent condition. The farmhouse and barn, on the other hand, looked far rougher.
“Everyone, stay here,” Franklin said. “My men and I will do a quick scout of the area and deploy the AI virus scanner before we attempt to connect with the surface facility AI. If it is still active, and not infected, hopefully we’ll be able to gain intel that might make our ingress somewhat easier.”
The trio of cyborgs quickly fanned out, the makeshift detectors in their hands scanning every time they neared a local communications junction. Ten minutes later, they returned to the waiting team.
