by Scott Baron
“Well said,” Tamara commented. “Now let’s stop playing with the neighborhood kitties and get moving. We’ve still got a mission to complete.”
Daisy gave a low chuckle as she adjusted the straps of her pack, then started walking. The others quickly followed suit.
“You’re a surprising woman, Daisy,” Sergeant Franklin said. “You know, I reviewed the footage of your assault on the infected outside of NORAD’s main doors. Efficient, brutal, and very, very deadly. And yet, here you are, showing a softer side.”
“We all have one, George. And that poor thing probably just picked up our scent and thought it would score an easy meal.”
“Well, technically, I don’t have one,” he said with a little laugh as he rapped a metal knuckle on his chest plate. “Scent, that is. Though without my flesh, I suppose I don’t have a soft side anymore either, if you want to be literal about it.”
“You know, George, you’re the one person who can answer a question I’ve had running through my head for a while,” Daisy said, raising a hopeful eyebrow. “If a cyborg no longer has a living flesh covering, is it still a cyborg? I mean, by definition, wouldn’t that change to android?”
“Funny question, Daisy, but I see where it could be confusing to an organic,” he replied. “The thing to keep in mind is that we are created as a combination of flesh and metal from the first moment of our consciousness. Sure, the majority of our bodies are metal, but the flesh is as much a part of us as anything.”
“But you don’t need it to function. It’s just, I don’t know… decorative, I guess.”
“More than decorative, Daisy. It also helps us interact with humans on an even playing field without our appearance disturbing them. You’re in something of a minority, you know. While you’re at ease with our appearance, most fully organics tended to find our endoskeletons more than a little off-putting.”
“Well, you are a bit intimidating, I suppose.”
“Understandable, but we didn’t make ourselves that way. Though we were technically created, you could still say we were born to blend in. Only when the plague hit were we reduced to lesser versions of ourselves.”
“You’re not lesser, George.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Daisy, but what you see now is not how I, or any of my men, see ourselves. We had faces unique to each of us. We had hair and skin, all of which, to us, was as much a part of us as our mechanical bits. I mean, think of it like this: What if ,out of the blue, you had to watch your friends die around you, while you were immune?”
“Pretty horrible, I’d imagine.”
“It was. Now imagine not only that, but also what it would be like to have to survive that horror while also watching your own mortal flesh disintegrate from your body and not be able to do a single damn thing about it.”
Daisy was silent a long moment as she digested his words.
“That’s…” She struggled to find the appropriate words. “I don’t know if I could have taken that, actually,” she finally said.
“And I’m glad you’ll never have to find out,” he replied. “I’m a soldier, Daisy. I’ve seen plenty of horrible things over my many years of service. Comrades killed in terrible ways, the brutal things man can do to man, but nothing prepared me for that experience. If not for the support of my men, well, I don’t know that any of us would have emerged from that one hundred percent sane.”
The two fell silent as they walked on. The metal man deep in memory, the human deep in thought. And both a bit closer than they’d been when the mission began.
Chapter Five
Bozeman, Montana, wasn’t much of a town to begin with, even before the population had been reduced to dust by the alien super plague. As such, there had never been justification or need to have a full-fledged AI of any significant class installed to oversee what the smaller units could easily handle.
“Looks like a ghost town, Daze,” Sarah said as they exited the monorail car and stepped into the relatively small arrival and transfer terminus.
Interesting choice of words, coming from you, Daisy joked back. But I see what you mean. There isn’t that feeling of destruction we’ve seen in the other cities.
“Maybe the surface is worse.”
Or maybe this place is so small and insignificant in the big picture that the Ra’az didn’t even bother coming here. Middle of nowhere, Sis. High-tech-wise, what’s there to scavenge?
The team quietly moved through the terminus, heading quickly toward the monorail line that would take them the final leg to the tiny town of Conrad. Every so often they would come across a pile of clothes, the former occupant reduced to dust centuries earlier. Aside from that, however, there were none of the telltale signs of conflict seen in other cities.
Cybernetic helpers had been a rarity in the area, aside from the few service units that helped the forestry service deal with fire suppression and control. In fact, in the entirety of their time in Bozeman so far, they hadn’t come upon a single unit, infected or otherwise.
“Daisy,” Tamara said in a hush, “this place looks unaffected. Beyond the dead people, I mean. Maybe a quick pop up top would be warranted, just to get the lay of the land.”
Daisy thought a moment, weighing their time constraints against the information they could glean prior to reaching their final destination two hundred forty miles away.
“Yeah, okay,” she replied. “Conrad’s an even smaller town, so whatever we see here, it’ll probably be even less affected there. Plus, we might even score some useful supplies. It’s survivalist country up here––who knows what we might find.”
She turned to Sergeant Franklin.
“You okay with that, George?”
His metal arms smoothly cinched the straps of his pack tighter in one fluid motion.
“Affirmative. Sounds like a reasonable course of action, so long as we don’t delay too much.”
“All right, then, let’s make a quick survey up top. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled for weaponry, fishing or trapping gear, and any parts I might use to help our dinged-up friend here fix that hitch in his giddy-up.”
Thirty minutes was all it took to determine the sleepy berg of Bozeman held little if any use for the team, though one of Franklin’s men did shoulder a bulky coil of high-tensile cable he found in the passenger cabin of a ruined equipment hauler.
“You really going to take that?” Tamara asked, incredulously.
“Cable comes in handy,” he replied, hefting the coil.
“You’ve lost it, haven’t you?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“That’s stupid. Name one thing you’d need a cable for.”
“You don’t know what you’re gonna need it for,” he said with a shrug. “You just always need it.”
“Seriously? You’re going to lug that with you for the next two hundred miles.”
“Yeah.”
“All right, get your stupid fucking cable, then,” she said with a chuckle. “Ridiculous.”
The rest of the team only managed to scrounge up some fish hooks, but no line, and a small axe with a composite handle that had withstood the many years since it had been abandoned. Other than that, their scavenging run was a bust.
Circling back to the terminus, they quietly descended back beneath the city to continue their trip to their final stop. Once there, if they were unable to get a suitable vehicle to take them overland to the long-abandoned silo, it had the potential of being a long, and most arduous trek.
“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 be
ginning 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?”
