The Convoy

by Sebastien Acacia

  Inosanto

  The biopsy was finally over. Inosanto was still under general anaesthesia, well-guarded. A well-armed militiaman, namely with only his feet and fists, was standing motionless at his bedside. Lying on the dental chair equipped with a structure to firmly maintain the head that Esclarmonde had designed in a few days, he got an injection to wake him up. Doing a grey and white matter biopsy in a brain wasn’t an operation free of risk. Hopefully for Esclarmonde, risking her life in case in failure, everything went well. The most important thing was to maintain the skull completely still so a robotic arm could insert a very thin and resistant syringe. Beforehand, with a scanner and very accurately, Esclarmonde had identified the sampling areas in order to guide the mechanical arm from the beginning to the end of the operation. What she had thought would be a real medical challenge, with so little available technologies in the lab, was a piece of cake. Except for a few difficulties. Whatever, she now had some cells from the cerebral cortex and white matter from the Prophet’s brain, and she would be able to continue her investigation. Two women, belonging to what Esclarmonde had finally called Inosanto’s harem, were in charge of accommodating him when he woke up and of taking care of him. A true relief for the microbiologist who had no intention to be a baby-sitter. She would have liked having a lab assistant, but this simple idea was unthinkable because of the purpose of her research.

  After placing a few picograms of brain matter on a glass slide, she started her analyse with the scanning tunnelling microscope.

  “I hope this quite painful procedure will allow you to find a solution,” Inosanto told her, while delicately stroking the plaster on the back of his head.

  “I mainly hope this will allow me to make enough progress so you will free this poor Paul.”

  “Hmm! I will never stop being surprised by your obstinacy. I’ve to admit this is one of your qualities. What do you think about being able to visit him? But, of course, only if you can prove me your researches are progressing.”

  Esclarmonde didn’t answer. She would rather not. She wouldn’t let her get diminished by accepting, even if she was dying to see Paul and to be able to comfort him. She was sure Inosanto wasn’t telling him anything about her. Did Paul even know she was alive? Of course no, she was thinking. As the balance of power between the Prophet and herself wasn’t favourable for her, she had to fake showing some dignity, and, if she had to refuse seeing Paul, she had convinced herself this would be the price to pay.

  The microscope observation didn’t give any conclusive result. No nano-agent was detected. Neither in the grey matter, nor in the white one, nor in the neurons or synapses. Then, Esclarmonde decided to inject a few of the nano-robots she had discovered in the Prophet’s skin cells to observe the reaction. She did it. Focused, she looked at the nano-scale entities trying to penetrate in the brain cells in any conceivable way, quite frantically. Straightening back to think for a bit, Esclarmonde spoke again to the Prophet.

  “Your brain cells are healthy and the nano-agents are harmless against them.”

  “Which means?” Inosanto, still lying and being taken care by the two women of his harem, asked her.

  “Which means you have to be patient, just a bit more patient,” Esclarmonde simply answered, despite already having some ideas.

  She grabbed a scalped, damped it with alcohol to sterilise it, and delicately took a sample on her own forearm by doing a subtle cut. She put it on another glass slide. After cleaning the bit of blood dripping on her skin and putting a bandage on the cut, she focused again on the microscope. She had to see for herself. What would happen if she injected the nano-agents on her own skin cells. The answer was simple - nothing! Nothing happened. The nano-robots couldn’t enter her cells. After a few attempts, they didn’t even try any more. This was a behaviour opposed to the one she had seen with the cell sample from Inosanto’s skin. They were immediately invaded by the nano-agents which easily entered inside and almost instantly mutated them.

  Inosanto tried to stand back. He could do it only with the help of the women he called his nurses.

  “Do you think I can already walk without risking being dizzy?”

  “I think you’re old enough to do whatever you want,” Esclarmonde answered curtly.

  “Do you know how old I’m exactly?” The old Prophet asked her.

  “According to the legend, 170 years old, aren’t you?”

  “This isn’t a legend,” the old man retorted.

  Esclarmonde just smirked with contempt as an answer, smiling incredulously.

  “We’re in 2180. If you’re telling the truth, it means you were born in 2010. This is pure madness. Nobody can live that old.”

  “And yet!”

  “And yet what? Come on, I’m listening to you... Which childhood memory can you tell me about so I may believe you? Something credible, a context, an event that can easily be checked?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have such a thing for you, simply because I don’t remember my childhood, it’s too far away, too old. The only memories I still have are about those endless months or years, I couldn’t say, when I was lying in some hospitals or medical centres. Even for this, I just remember the suffering and the feelings. Some hazy memories of this bed I could never leave. Everything is too blurry, too far away.”

  Intrigued, Esclarmonde tried to get more information.

  “So you were sick, right?”

  “Probably. You know, memory is frustrating because the longer you live the less you remember about your life - only feelings, sensations, odours, music. Facts and details are replaced by more recent ones. The brain decides what it keeps or replaces, because its capacity is limited.”

  “What’s your oldest memory? I mean a detailed and clear memory.” Esclarmonde asked him, very curious.

  “The moment I woke up on the cold floor of my church after 10 days of coma, my body covered with stigmata.”

  “So nothing before?”

  “Some sensations as I’ve told you before. Some dreams where I’m bedridden, under perfusion. I know those aren’t dreams. Why are you suddenly so interested in my person?”

  “You were sick, probably seriously. This is only what matters to me. The key to solve this mystery. A clue to explain your stigmata.”

  “No need to explain my stigmata, they came from God. Your mission isn’t to understand where they come from, but to relieve them.”

  At this moment, the militiaman keeping watch behind the Prophet interrupted him.

  “My Lord, a call from the Legatee, it’s urgent.”

  “Put him on.”

  Inosanto took the communication device.

  “What’s so urgent, so you’re interrupting my discussion with our dear Professor Lecuyer?”

  “My apologies, my Lord, but the rebels have destroyed the railway tube between the Fessenheim pile factory and the sacred lands of Oceania.”

  Inosanto looked closely at the live images the Legatee was sending him through his intercom.

  “Are you sure this has been committed by the rebels? I just see a rockfall.”

  “Sure, my Lord. We’re chasing one person who just ran away from the premises.”

  “I want him alive, do you hear me, Legatee? Alive!” The old Prophet raged.

  Esclarmonde, who was hearing the whole discussion, was internally rejoicing.

  Happy the one living for science and improving the world... and who will overcome darkness through science. Well done my friends!

  Nevertheless, she pretended she was still working on the microscope, so the old man wouldn’t engage with her. Raging, he stopped the discussion with the Legatee after calling names on him.

  “It seems that your friends are a much more serious threat than what I was thinking. Please excuse me, I’ve to go to deal with this.”

  Without further formality, Inosanto left the premises with the militiaman and the two nurses.

  Esclarmonde mechanically turned back to look at them leaving. Then, she re
alised the door wasn’t closed properly. Carefully, she deserted her work station to glance outside. While getting closer to the door, she understood the militiaman hadn’t stayed to keep watch. She opened the door a bit more to check on the outside. Nobody. There was nobody left. This opportunity was too good to be missed. She slipped outside, and carefully moved until the railing overlooking at the huge laboratory. It was empty. Not a single lab technician was working.

  Maybe the late hour, she told herself to feel reassured.

  From her high position, she closely observed the big bins filled with every kind of seeds occupying all the space. Each of them was equipped of a work station where strange devices were laid, like titled tubes.

  I need some samples of those seeds.

  Glancing quickly, Esclarmonde located the stairs two dozen yards on her left. She chose to keep a nonchalant attitude, almost normal. Like if she was going on her Sunday stroll. If there were some security cameras nearby, and she could trust Inosanto’s paranoia about this, nobody could reproach her to have a suspicious behaviour. She was quickly at the bottom of the stairs. She was just a few steps away from the closest seed container. She just had time to get close enough from it before a young woman wearing a lab coat and coming from nowhere interrupted her.

  “What are you doing here? Are you new? I don’t know you!”

  Hmm! She thinks I’ m working here... it must be the coat.

  “Uhh! I've just been allocated to this department, and, indeed, I don’t know anybody.”

  “I see!” The young woman answered, looking more scared than suspicious. “In this case, you shouldn’t stay here alone, the foreman is very strict with this. Punishments are very harsh.”

  Poor kid... you seem to be scared...

  “I was going to ask you a question, uhh...? Esclarmonde answered her, while looking for the name written on the small tag on the young scared girl’s coat.

  “Oh, Maria, my name is Maria.”

  “Madam! My name is Maria, madam!” Esclarmonde retorted her, imperiously.

  “Sorry, madam. Maria, madam.”

  “And to answer your question, I’ve been appointed to the lab technician management. Actually, I was going to ask you, how dare you wandering alone in this high-security zone?”

  The young woman shyly pointed at the closest work station where a small metallic box and some cutlery were standing.

  “I... I’ve... forgotten m... There.... Madam! I start the first shift in 20 minutes, and... and... I came a bit earlier to... t...”

  Esclarmonde looked at her watch. She had also arrived at 5am upon Inosanto’s request for his biopsy. She realised this time hadn’t been chosen innocently. Inosanto didn’t want to be seen by the lab technicians. He wanted to preserve the mystery and being seen too much around could undermine his authority and raise inappropriate questions.

  6am. Poor kid. Sorry but I’ve no other choice than taking advantage of your gullibility.

  Esclarmonde came closer to the working plan. She saw a few scattered seeds. She took the small box and the cutlery.

  “Here you are!” She told her, tyrannically, while giving it to her.

  The young woman looked down. Esclarmonde seized the opportunity to hammer her.

  “I forget it, for this time only. Clean your table. It’s unacceptable to see some seeds scattered around like this.

  “Tha... thank you, madam, I will take care of this right now. Thank you so much.”

  The young girl couldn’t stop apologising and bowing.

  “And don’t even think about denouncing me,” Esclarmonde added. “I’m covering you for this time, but if you report my kindness, I won’t spare you next time. Is that clear?”

  “You can count on me, madam! I’m very grateful you’re so wise. Thank you... Thank you.”

  Esclarmonde moved away to go back to the stairs, leaving the unfortunate girl to her fate. Hands in her pockets, she was proudly palpating the few seeds she had managed to steal from the working plan. Without a trace, she reached back her lab with a single idea in mind - finding everything that could shatter Inosanto’s empire and help her Kathar brothers and sisters.

  The train

  Being quick. This was the main concern of all the soldiers involved with this mission. At this time, nothing was more important than racing against this incompressible variable, which had been defining the human condition since the origin of the world - Time! And, to win this thousand-year-long struggle, even just during one mission, Blanche didn’t try laying the explosives in different places of the railway tube as a normal way to do it. Simplicity would be enough, she thought. Beforehand, she had connected all the explosives together inside her backpack. Twenty pounds of explosives waiting for a single fate - getting stuck with a good old detonator. This was done. During this sensitive operation, Matilda was looking, astonished, at all the colourful fish attracted by the light emanating from the tube, nonchalantly hanging around, completely at peace. She had never seen such a thing, neither in the school books nor in the animal documentaries of the Church’s television channel. Why hiding such a beauty from the rest of the world, she naively wondered. Here and there, some shellfish were clamped on the glass tube surface and on the metallic structures bearing it. An old wreckage of container ship from the Old World was left lying three dozen yards away. Despite the lack of light at this depth, she could easily guess the imposing shapes of a husk probably broken in two by a strong storm. Or maybe, this was the result of a shellfire during one of the great wars which wreaked havoc on Earth during the Godless Decade. Matilda would never know. Time, again, had done his best to hide any trace or clue that would have provided more information.

  “Here we go, it’s ready! Let’s get out of here,” Blanche interrupted her.

  “Hmm! “Uhh, right, let’s go,” Matilda answered, dreaming.

  They both came near their long boards and Matilda took the auxiliary engine out of her backpack. It had been greatly improved, and some mechanisms had been added to easily clip it on four small elliptical opening, dug on the side of each skateboard. Located at the rear, there was a single wheel at its centre, larger than the ones initially assembled on the long boards. This would allow to provide enough power to go back twice as fast. Blanche stored the detonator, properly locked, in a space of her military harness, then they both climbed on the remarkable device. Blanche was standing at the front, holding her gun, while Matilda was handling the control throttle. Despite the slight slope, they quickly reached 40 miles per hour, so they could hope reaching the exit in barely a dozen minutes. Everything was going very well. Matilda enjoyed this physical sensation she only felts during her childhood sports events In some way, she was taking all this as a simple game, almost forgetting the dramatic intent of the mission. The youth fieriness was stronger than anything else.

  “Slow down!” Blanche suddenly yelled.

  Matilda didn’t react immediately.

  “Slow down!” Blanche insisted, yelling louder.

  Matilda released the pressure on the throttle, but it was too late. A military robot dog was standing a few yards away from them, blocking their way. Matilda’s response time brought them dangerously close to it. Too dangerously. The scaring metallic creature started shooting at them. Blanche immediately retaliated, jumping on the side.

  “Lie down!” She ordered Matilda at the same time.

  The carefree young girl felt back, toggling their vessel backward, which ended up between the four-legged animal and them. Luckily, this protected her from getting hit by a salve of bullets. Soon, the long boards felt on her. Blanche, lying on the side, shot several times on the gun barrel mounted on the robot dog muzzle. She got the result she was hoping for. The weapon was irremediably damaged. As the dog just got its long tail blade for a weapon, it started a terrifying gallop. Each of its metallic paws hitting the thick glass of the railway tube sounded like the promise of a terrible death for the two Kathars. Matilda flipped the long boards on the side, in the oppos
ite direction of the exit.

  “Blanche, climb up quickly!” She interrupted her.

  She didn’t realise immediately that Blanche’s leg was seriously injured. The robot dog hadn’t missed her. With such a sophisticated device, it couldn’t have been different. Matilda, lying on the long board, rolled on the side to avoid the robot’s charge. She quickly ended up next to Blanche, who was trying her best to get back into position. Concerning the dog, carried away by its impulse, it took some time to start again in the opposite direction for a new attack. Again, this Time, sometimes so long, and sometime terribly short. For this time, not enough so Matilda still had time to take her gun out and shot a salve of armour-piercing bullets toward the implausible attacker. The rage expression on her face really showed how combative the young Kang Kong farmer was. Kathar blood was running through her veins, there was no way she would give ground, even an inch, to the enemy. Unfortunately, the bullets didn’t get the expected effect. Even if some areas of the armour, a bit thinner than the others, were pierced, it wasn’t powerful enough to stop the diabolical beast. It finally took its leap to attack them one more time. The blade edge, flying from the tip of its tail, reflected the bluish light coming from the tube, making it even more threatening. It threw itself on the two lying body, like if they were just a piece of meat. Matilda emptied her mag on the beast. Blanche did the same. Despite the important damages they did on the mechanical part of the astonishing creature, it wasn’t enough to stop it. It dived on Matilda, seeming to think that, as Blanche was injured, she wasn’t a priority any more. Matilda curled herself for protection and when the dog reached her, she did such an accurate and well-timed Japanese hold, that it got projected backward. Right after, and without waiting for her to ask, she pulled Blanche to the long boards, and, once lying on them, pushed the accelerator despite all safety rules. Blanche’s left leg was dragging on the tube cold glass, while Matilda, lying on her back, was struggling to get back to a more comfortable sitting position. The robot dog wasn’t left out. Perfectly adapted and designed to gallop, it engaged in pursuing them frenetically. Blanche couldn’t realise what was happening. While they were already reaching 60 miles per hour, the robot was still tagging along.