The Convoy

by Sebastien Acacia

  Oh! Oh! This isn’t good!

  Ermengarde knew his weapon was quite efficient against the extracting robot, this kind of dog working in the nuclear plants. Three to four good shots, and the matter was settled. But against this armoured creature armed to the teeth, he probably had no chance during a direct fight. Without turning back, he mentally tried to calculate how far he was from the cavity edge to deduce, as accurate as possible, how long he would need to run, jump into the void and unfold the retractable wings of his jumpsuit.

  Ten yards? Nine? If I go too far, I will be out of reach of the detonators and the mission will fail. I must dive and blow everything before being too far. The ascending wind should help me slowing down my fall. It must.

  He didn’t need a lot of time to think before fleeing toward the cliff. Indeed, the fighting dog charged him before he knew it! He had never run that fast in his whole life. He didn’t have time to put back his weapon in his holster and he was still vigorously holding it in his hand. Nearing the edge, he shot a few bullets behind him, but the robot dodged them by climbing on the rock tunnel, still galloping. Why wasn’t it shooting? Did its gun barrel have a problem? Whatever why or how, Ermy dropped his weapon, gained momentum, evaluated carefully where to step to jump into the void, then setted of with an angle to avoid crashing on the pillar. The dog suddenly stopped, almost falling into the ravine. If it had been fully operational, Ermengarde could have never even thought about escaping like this. Ermy unfold his wingsuit wings, and, as he dove to gain some lift, he felt the ascending wind providing him with enough potency to gain some altitude. After a staggering fall of approximately a hundred yards, the wings expanded, and, following such a parabolic trajectory as only nature could provide, he started to rise. It was exactly what he needed to take a steep turn and come back in the cave axis where the explosives had been placed so he could activate the detonators. At the same time, he saw the robot dog, motionless, but still here, which seem to aim at him without being able to shoot. Everything wasn’t over yet. He had to grab the transmitter, so he would lose some lift and therefore fall. He kept gaining altitude, then, in a very skill move, brought back his arm to his harness, brilliantly rolled over, and, dropping fast toward the river, activated the C-4. The explosion was very violent. Millions of tons of rocks collapsed. A complete section of the cliff, from the cave to the top, slid diagonally toward the pillar, sweeping away the railway tube. A few pieces of rocks were propelled toward the river. The robot dog was literally blown away against the pylon where it broke into several pieces. Ermengarde did his best to reach a better position, facing the wind, but he couldn’t because of the blast. He spiralled downward into the rapids. Luckily, he didn’t hit any rock and the rapids were deep enough to save him from a certain death. Nevertheless, the current immediately took him away toward the lake. Swirling around, half-conscious, Ermengarde avoided a few big rocks propelled by the explosion, which slowly fell on the river shores.

  Despite being joggled by the stream, unable to find his way around, an instant of lucidity allowed him to come around. In a more quiet area, he somehow managed to get out from a tidal wave which had taken him underwater for too long. He crept up a tree trunk lying on the shore and already decaying. Panting, desperate and lost, he found enough energy to get out of the water. He was shocked when he finally looked at the viaduct, upstream. The exposition had literally reshaped the landscape. The first pillar, buried under a mountain of rocks, was just an old memory, and the second one had also collapsed. Concerning the railway tube, only the second half was still standing. Ermengarde was proud of himself. Maybe proud, but still worried. He had to warn Trancavel as fast as possible. He needed to find his satellite communication device, his detector was lost in the tumultuous streams of the rapids. The retractable wings of his jumpsuit were torn apart and he wouldn’t be able to fly even if he had to. His harness was quite broken but his combat knife was still in its holster as in normal time. He inspected his communication equipment, making sure it was still working. He activated it one first time. Nothing happened. A second time. Still nothing.

  Don’t do that to me!

  Angry, he shook the device, hit it once or twice on the side.

  “Come on!” He flustered.

  The third try was the good one.

  Tssss... Tssss...

  “Ermengarde to Trancavel,” he said in a deep voice.

  Tssss... Tssss...

  “Trancavel, I'm listening, what happens again?

  “You aren’t going to like this, chief!”

  *

  * *

  Temptation

  Phoebus got used to stay alone in his lab during the expeditions, in particular for the most risky ones. He believed that by joining the team monitoring the operation by satellite, by providing technical support and a rational approach, any dramatic event which could jeopardise the mission and even lead to the death of the belligerents would be his fault. Letting some superstitious thoughts leading his act was a wager for such a scientist. It wasn’t for lack of discussing the scientific method during his class at the Kathar University.

  *

  * *

  Phoebus was speaking to the dozen new students who had recently joined, quite by chance, the Kathar guild. Each of them had their own story, their own community of origin, their specific skills, but they all had one thing in common - a world vision completely mould by the Church’s doctrine. An approach based on intuition and faith. Like all the other new recruits, they would have to undertake a series of classes to develop their critical thinking. Phoebus perfectly knew how hard this could be.

  “Much more than collecting knowledge, first of all, science is a way of thinking. Let’s make a small experiment to see how efficient science is.” He told his students.

  According to the interested faces of his audience and to several nods he could see here and there, he logically deduced they were ready. Phoebus switched on a big screen, on which four cards of a very old Tarot deck were displayed. The Jack of Clubs, the Queen of Heart, the King of Spade and the Ace of Diamond.

  “I would like each of you to mentally choose one of these four cards. Then, don’t tell anybody which one you have chosen. Repeat mentally three times the name of this card so you don’t forget it.”

  Phoebus waited two dozen seconds, then spoke again.

  “Is it OK? Can I go on?”

  They all acquiesced with a nod.

  “Thanks to science, the software will guess which card you have chosen by making it disappear.”

  Phoebus pressed a keyboard key on the old computer he was using for the class. All the cards disappeared, then three cards almost immediately reappeared. The Jack of Spade, the Queen of Diamond and the King of Clubs. The whole class started to whisper, surprised. The ten students couldn’t believe it.

  “So?” Phoebus asked, proud of the reaction he had just got.

  “Indeed, the card I have chosen has disappeared,” one student declared.

  “Me too!” Another one said.

  “Me too!” A third one added, soon followed by the seven others.

  “Do you realise you have all chosen the same card,” Phoebus added, smiling.

  “What card did you choose, Olivia?” The youngest of the group asked.

  “The King of Spade!” The young woman answered.

  “Uhh! No, I have chosen the Jack of Clubs,” the student who had asked the question said surprised.

  “For me, it was the Queen of Heart,” another student interrupted.

  Soon, they all discovered the trick, but they still couldn’t understand its mechanism. Phoebus pressed again a key on the keyboard.

  “Look!” He interrupted them. “Here are the four cards from the beginning, and right below the three cards I have displayed once you’ve memorised your choice. None of these three cards was part of the initial choice.”

  “This is cheating, sir,” Olivia stood.

  “Hmm! You can accuse me of cheating. But you can also ack
nowledge your inability to fully analyse the problem data before answering,” Phoebus provoked them. “You all focused only on the card you have chosen. Then, you didn’t pay any attention to the others. Therefore, it was very easy to make you believe the software had indeed read your mind. You have just learnt that the human mind is naturally more interested by what it must confirm and not by what it should deny.”

  One student raised their hand. Nodding, Phoebus signalled them to speak.

  “So are you saying that, for science, we must first and foremost do everything we can to prove ourselves wrong rather than trying to prove we’re right?”

  “You’ve understood it all! The basis of the scientific method dictates us to act in such a way. In science, scepticism is a duty!”

  “Sceptic... what?” The young Olivia asked.

  *

  * *

  For Phoebus, isolating himself wasn’t a complete innocent activity. He knew Ermessende wouldn’t come to bother his meditation. Indeed, he could lose his son and some close friends. Even worst, he could lose everything and completely forget the Kathar project of overthrowing Inosanto and establishing a rationalist political regime, based on scientific thinking. No, nobody would come to bother him, and that was exactly what he was hoping for. His decision was taken. He would test the nano-substance. But not on himself. His dear pet would bear the risk of the dangerous experiment.

  Phoebus was trying to reassure himself as he could. In science, the failed experiments, the inconsistent results, were most of the time forgotten - nobody spoke about the stories and fuss happening. Nevertheless, the consistent parts were only representing a tiny share of all the experiments which had been designed and executed. He was completely unable to predict what might happen after the injection. Would his dog die in atrocious pain? Would she be subject to favourable or unfavourable mutations? Would the nature of her own being be changed? Phoebus opened the refrigerated container and took out the vial containing the black-blue nano-substance. He stuck a syringe inside and sucked in a good tenth of its content. As usual, Laïka was lying in her huge basket made of many repaired cushions. Confident, she was looking at her old master getting closer to her, holding a syringe.

  “My dear granny, how are you doing?” He told her, while stroking her with his free hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve no other choice. You may die any day now. You have given me so much during all those years, faithfully by my side, standing by. You can still help me, my dear Laïka. Don’t blame me. I’m doing this for science.”

  Happy the one living for science and improving the world... and who will overcome darkness through science.

  The needle slowly entered the animal’s hip. Phoebus injected the whole content of the syringe then stroke the muzzle of the good animal. What would happen? Nothing! Nothing happened. Laïka seemed to be still napping, quietly. She didn’t even have enough energy to lick the injection area, as she would have done without any hesitation a few years ago.

  Something must happen. Was the shot not enough? Maybe, this would take more time. Maybe the substance wasn’t compatible with dog blood groups. How to know?

  Phoebus’s mind was tormented from all those questions with no answer. What if he had used a lot of nano-substance for nothing? Didn’t science move forward thanks to misjudgements. He stood up, twisting his beard around, then went to sit in his old armchair. He took a notebook from a drawer and wrote:

  04th May 2180, 7.03am, injection of 2ml of nano-substance in Laïka’s right hip, dog of unknown breed, around fifteen years old.

  He looked at his watch and added:

  7.05am, no visible reaction.

  He rotated in his seat to glance at the nano-container lying in the fridge behind him.

  Guilhabert, if only you could have been here, you old thief! What would you tell me?

  While this frustrating thought was going through his mind, he jerked on his seat. Laïka had just licked his hand lying on the armrest. She was next to him, even if she didn’t seem to have changed at all. Suddenly, she reared to lay her front paws on the armrest and lick her master’s face. Phoebus couldn’t realise what was happening. Laïka, who was barely walking for months, how was this possible?

  “My dear Laïka! Calm down, calm down! I don’t believe it, how...?”

  It can only be the nano-substance.

  Phoebus look more carefully at his dog. The fur wasn’t looking more vivid. Nevertheless, the cataract she was afflicted in both eyes seemed to be healed. Her muzzle, usually so dry, was covered with a thin layer of moist and didn’t have this whitish aspect any more making the old animal much older. Phoebus was stunned.

  So that’s it, Guilhabert... You’ve risked your life to bring me the eternity Holy Grail.

  Driven by his survival instinct coming from his guts, the old founder of the Kathars, knowing he was dying, opened the fridge, took out the vial filled with this substance which held saving, even divine powers. Then, without following any hygiene standard, he grabbed the syringe he had just used for Laïka, quickly cleaned the tip and stuck it in the vial in order to suck a dose he thought would be enough for his size. His hand shaking, he brought the needle close to his forearm. Phoebus was hearing himself breathing so hard, he had to mentally focus for a few seconds on what he was doing. Captive of the moment excitation, a quiet inner voice difficultly managed to reach his conscious.

  Wait! Wait a little more! Remember... time for observation is essential.... Reason must always prevail over madness...

  Injecting this substance was pure madness. Phoebus knew it. The scientific method was dictating him to repeat the experiment on another animal, to indulge an observation period long enough to make sure no negative side-effect appeared, which might be worse than all the positive effects already seen. Ideally, he should take a sample of his own cellular tissue and observe with a microscope the reaction when in contact with the nano-substance. But with which equipment? Their laboratory equipment wasn’t powerful enough for such a procedure. His hand was shaking. Finally, he removed the needle which was grazing his skin and injected its content back in the vial, where it was coming from. He would wait. Reason had prevailed over alienation. Science over beliefs. Patience over passion. After taking a deep breath, Phoebus peacefully looked at his long-time companion, weirdly rejuvenated, who was still seeking caresses and benevolence. Was she thanking him in her own way? Whatever. He just had one idea in mind - hiding her. Today, Laïka would stay in his lab. Nobody could see her running around, being completely healthy, in the cave tunnels.

  “Go lie down in your basket,” he told her.

  She did it without arguing, after barking a little - barking he hadn’t heard for a very long time.

  Waiting and observing!

  This time, Phoebus would make an exception. This time, he would go to the command post to follow the ongoing mission.

  *

  * *

  The tube

  Normally, Trancavel would have hesitated. He would have delayed the mission, asked Jourdain to hasten to make up for the lost time. Whatever! He would have done something, damn it! Except for one detail, to abort a mission or to speed up, a very full pile was needed. He was raging silently. Everything was clear in his mind - the brave Ermy didn’t have any other choice than improvising and he hadn’t given up on the task he was supposed to achieve. But! Still! Ten minutes! This could be enough to ruin the entire mission. Of course, the whole team was informed of this little drawback. Indeed, they had defeated faces, the whispers were irreverent, but they were still compassionate. Ermy had valiantly defeated the robot dog. Maybe a robot dog too old to fully fight, but still! Even more, it was a new kind of robot dog, militarised and aggressive.

  “Have you ever heard about it?” Matilda naively asked.

  “What are you speaking about, kid?” Gaucelin nicely answered her.

  “Well, this kind of robot, dummy!” She joked.

  “Dummy! Hehe!” Aymeric smiled, while slightly pushing him with his elbow, p
rovocatively.

  Usually good public, the Viking, as his fellows liked to call him, didn’t find those few mockeries funny at all.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” he simply answered for Matilda.

  “Until now, we were just aware of the extractors.”

  “Yes, and it wasn’t an easy task,” Blanche added, rubbing her forearm.

  “If what Ermengarde told us is true, if we bump into one at the tunnel, we will really have to worry about it,” Trancavel indicated from the cockpit.

  Tsss... Tsss...

  “HQ to Trancavel! HQ to Trancavel!”

  “Trancavel, I’m listening to you, Raymond!

  “Response unit of the Milicia Christi located. It’s going straight toward Ermengarde. Arrival estimated in.... oh my god! I don’t know what they have done to their MRU but the computer is showing 20 minutes. Over.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why you’re surprise. Over,” Trancavel said, irritated.

  “This means their cruising speed is 20% higher than ours, son!”

  “What a surprise! Since when are you looking after the mission, my dear father? Over.”

  “Since the life of several of our noble warriors are at stake,” Phoebus answered, calmly.

  From his cockpit, Jourdain interrupted Trancavel.

  “This isn’t a good news for us, chief.”

  “With communities of thousands engineers working on improving their arsenal, we were to expect this,” he stoically answered.