“We won’t do it!” She yelled to Matilda.
“Detonate everything,” she retorted.
“You aren’t seriously thinking about it?” Blanche asked surprised.
“We have our oxygen mask and we will be propelled forward to the tube exit by the water pressure which will invade it. It will sink,” she told her, pointing at the dog running after them.
Blanche didn’t answer anything. She was mentally assessing the strategy of her young cadet, with caution.
“What are you waiting for? That we arrived on the explosive bag to deto...”
She didn’t have time to finish her sentence - a distant explosion undermined the entire tube. It seemed like it would break up from everywhere. In fact, Blanche thought the idea was really great, and by default, had unlocked the detonator and took great pleasure blowing up everything. They hadn’t reached yet the oceanic area where the tube was completely under water. All around them, the rocks were damping the vibrations.
“Put your mask on!” Blanche ordered her.
They simply pushed on the side of their helmet and a waterproof visor lowered on their face. They just had a few minutes of oxygen, but, luckily, this should be enough. At least, they were hoping so. They kept rushing down the slope when, very quickly, they saw the salt water wave, filled with all kinds of scraps, surging up toward them and the robot dog. While they worried about it, the dog, without any conscience, didn’t mind it. It was still constantly galloping, almost losing its balance. Because of the surrounding din, the two Kathar cronies couldn’t communicate any more. A few seconds later, when they directly struck the tubular tidal wave, they both were on their own. Once inside the wave quickly going up the tube, Matilda lost her bearings. They had the reflex to dive in two opposite directions to avoid violently colliding together once they would be hustled by the water. Despite this precaution, Blanche took a heel blow from her teammate directly in her head. Without helmet, she would have probably passed out. Then, the dog was taken in the aquatic turmoil. Being too fast, too dense, it completely lost control of its limbs. Without any support, joggled here and there, it inevitably ended up dragged into the flooded tube without being able to turn around and run after the two intruders. They finally managed, little by little, to find a few visual cues. Even if many of the luminous globes had stopped working, as they were passing by, one after another, at the pace of their long boards, Blanche and Matilda were able to understand a bit their situation. They were literally carried by the water toward the exit. Breathing became hard. The helmets hadn’t been designed to be used under water. Blanche and Matilda had to press heavily on their oxygen mask to make sure they wouldn’t let any salt water, with its salty and acrid taste, into their respiratory tract. Despite this slump, Matilda found the experience of salt water interesting. They swam in the direction of the flood, to follow the motion the best they can so they wouldn’t be sucked by potential vortex sometimes developing because of whirlpools more virulent than others. The time seemed to slow down. One again this Time, omnipresent, inevitable, forged in this unfathomable relativity theorised by some known physicists. Just a few minutes went by, maximum four or five, but it seemed to be hours for them. The flood reached its highest point, and the torments stopped. Thanks to the milder slope of the tunnel, Blanche and Matilda managed to get out of the water, without too many difficulties. They had lost all notion of time, and could barely recover the notion of space. Once they were completely out of the water, Matilda was concerned by all the blood flowing out of her fellow’s thighs. After unhooking her military harness, she came closer to her.
“How do you feel? Do you think you can walk?” She asked her, worried.
While Blanche difficulty answered she thought she could to it, Matilda slipped her harness around her leg just above the injury and started to tighten it.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, but if you keep losing blood like this, I would have to carry you all the way to the exit. And, as it seemed you had gained weigh during the last few days, you can understand I would rather avoid it... I will do it my way!” Matilda joked.
“Nicely said,” Blanche also joked.
Matilda helped her to stand up. She glanced at the timer.
“Only five minutes left! We have to go over approximately half a mile to reach the access chamber before the train directly hits us. Come on! Come on! Let’s go!” She said, getting out of control.
Blanche put her arm around her neck. Despite the pain, they started to run the best they could, limping along, but quite resolved to get out of the tunnel alive. Two or three minutes later, they could feel the attractive force of the locomotive suction mechanism. The void created would also cause the water to go up, and would also destabilise them a little. They weren’t speaking. They were running. They could clearly see the lights at the end of the tube. Those lights symbolising life more than ever, and also the access chamber location. Then, all the way over, a little dark dot, very tiny almost unnoticeable, appeared. Matilda couldn’t take it any more. She knew it was the train and she also knew that, as it was going at 370 miles per hours, if she could already see it, that was meaning this damn Time hadn’t provided any respite. They started to feel a slight imbalance toward the front. They also heard the sucked water rising up behind them. Matilda was suffocating. Blanche couldn’t take it any more. Their oxygen masks were almost empty while the air was starting to get scarcer. Everything happened very fast. Unexpectedly, the suction helped them to go faster, and, while the front of the locomotive was becoming more and more real, Matilda and Blanche reached the access chamber, while their feet weren’t touching the ground any more, almost floating in a tilted position. They managed to grab the access chamber door they had left open when coming in, and, just a few seconds before the train crashed them, they managed to dive in the anteroom leading outside. She pushed back the door, which instantly got stuck under the combined effect of the void and of the train speed. Matilda grabbed Blanche’s waist, and, together, they jumped out of the danger zone. A few rolls after, she straightened back and grabbed Blanche to help her standing.
“Let’s go back to the MRU, we don’t stop under any circumstance,” she told her.
Blanche had only one idea in mind, stopping for a few minutes to catch her breath. They got rid of their too stained helmets to properly see around and went deeper into the forest without turning back. The blast they heard didn’t leave any doubt about the violence of the shock happening in the railway tube.
*
* *
In extremis
Within a few yards, the team lead by Trancavel had properly positioned themselves. The train last wagon stopped just one minute away from their hideout. A blessing. Indeed, they perfectly heard the nice blast informing them Blanche and Matilda’s mission was a success. They even got out of their hiding place for a moment to look at the spray of water caused by the explosion. The water went so high that they felt some sea sprays despite the distance. In the HQ, the satellite monitoring unit, who was looking alternatively at the Milicia Christi’s patrol on Ermy’s side and at the enemy troops near the ocean, informed them of the Legatee’s imminent departure toward them. From this moment, they knew they had barely three dozen minutes. Trancavel worried. He couldn’t reach neither Blanche, nor Matilda. Nevertheless, he couldn’t forget the main purpose of the mission. They quickly placed the explosives to blow up the tube behind the last wagon. Jourdain had the honour to press the detonator. Aymeric was happy to see the tube shattering into a billion pieces. A huge breach was opened and an important amount of salt water, sucked in by the train mechanism, flew out. The gaping hole allowed them to enter right next to the train keelson. It had a circular door intended to the loading of the goods, covering almost the whole diameter. Around, the reactors propelling the air coming from the front of the train were completely destroyed by the salt water filled with all kinds of organic matters, shards of glass, shellfish and a huge quantity of mud. Trancavel and Jourdain wer
e taking care of opening the hatch with a blue flame burner, while Aymeric was providing technical support, and Geoffroy and Gaston were keeping watch. Jourdain cut one of the two hinges when Geoffroy and Gaston warned them a Milicia’s fighting drone was approaching.
“Guys, we have some company!” Geoffroy yelled.
The hiss of a drone nuclear engine was too typical, thus they instantly identified it, even without seeing it. In order to attract the terrifying device as far as possible from the pile extraction area, Geoffroy moved toward the forest edge, Gaston right behind him. The first trees were at least a good dozen steps away from the tube. They covered this distance exposed. The drone immediately spotted them and started the chase. Its machine guns already out, it started shooting on the two fugitives who managed to find shelter behind the first trees. Bullets were flying everywhere. A shrub smaller than the other was literally cut in two by a piercing bullet. Gaston was the first to spot the militiaman who was coming toward them, jumping between the trees.
“Militiaman at 2 o’clock!” He yelled to warn Geoffroy, hoping Trancavel and Jourdain would also hear him.
The terrifying Christ’s soldier was jumping from one tree to another with a disconcerting agility.
How can we fight such warriors? Gaston was wondering, looking at him getting closer.
He spotted a big rock on their left.
“Take cover! The rock on the left! Take cover!”
A few steps were enough to reach the huge natural fortress, which, on top of all, was half standing on a shallow excavation created by tree roots which had found a way to the surface. The two Kathars were therefore isolated, trapped, but alive. They were waiting, side by side, holding their machine guns. Gaston, whose chaotic breathing was betraying how panicked he was, was still pushing back with his legs, like if he wanted to sink even deeper in the cold and wet humus of the roots protecting them. The drone hiss was back. The device was probably scanning the area, looking for any thermal signature. Nevertheless, there wasn’t a single noise from the militiaman.
Where is he? What is he doing?
Geoffroy wasn’t doing better. While his teammate was constantly mourning in a low voice about the situation, he interrupted him.
“How many grenades do you have?”
“Uhh! I don’t know,” Gaston answered, baffled.
“Count!” Geoffroy simply answered him.
Gaston started to count when a hail of explosive bullets coming from behind the rock wiped out the trees in front of the fugitives in just a few seconds. Gaston panicked and closed his eyes while starting to cry.
“So! How many?” Geoffroy yelled.
“Four, uhh... five.”
“As soon as the drone appears in front of us, you throw all of them on it. I’ll take care of the militiaman. He must be behind us. OK?”
Gaston had peed his pants. Petrified and his jaw shaking, he couldn’t answer his fellow.
“OK?” Geoffroy yelled at him, apprehensively looking at the dirty trousers of his partner.
“I haven’t committed for this... Damn it! I haven’t committed for this,” the poor trouble man was constantly repeating.
Seizing the opportunity of this mental trouble, the drone appeared in front of them. Seeing this huge cross armed to the teeth and flying so gracefully, and also showing the bloody body of the crucified Christ on its keelson, just petrified them even more. Geoffroy, partially lying in the hole, his back against the rock, pulled his machine gun trigger as strong as he could. The drone started an unexpected dance, swinging from right to left very easily. Without trying to avoid the heavy fire coming toward it, it activated its machine guns, which were making an infernal noise. With 500 bullets per minutes, the result was quite fast. Gaston literally got shred from his solar plexus to his head. The poor little bugger didn’t even have time to throw one of his damn four or five grenades he had with him. Geoffroy anticipated it and lied under cover, pressed again what was left of his friend’s body. He didn’t even feel the sharp pain in his right arm that a bullet had finally superficially wounded. Without waiting, he grabbed a grenade from Gaston’s belt, pulled the pin, counted to five, and, in a smooth motion, threw it toward the drone. Three seconds later, he heard the blast. The machine guns immediately stopped. The engine hiss too. The next second, the metallic din didn’t leave him any doubt about the success of his manoeuvre. The drone collapsed on the ground, definitely out of order.
The militiaman...
He was shaken by simply thinking about the Christ’s soldier. Why hadn’t he shown up yet? From his lying position, Geoffroy could only partially look at the situation. Nevertheless, he could clearly feel his presence, his energy. When he finally decided to get out of his hideout to look at the area where the drone had crashed, the militiaman was standing there, over the metallic wreckage, threatening. His stretching black and red jumpsuit was showing muscles like only the strongest heroes of the Greek mythology had. A dark and semi-transparent helmet was fully protecting his head. In his right hand, he was holding a weapon, which shape was only a simple rectangle. In the other, he had an oval shield protecting his side from his shoulder to his knee. He took a fighting position typical of the militiamen. Feline, with bent legs, almost fully crouched, on the tip of his toes, his arm carrying his weapon hidden behind his body, his shield in front, protecting him almost completely. Only his head was still exposed by a half-circle opening at the top of the shield. On it, Geoffroy clearly identified, in white over a black background, the boa constrictor pierced by the cross shaped sword, the symbol of Terra Fecundis Church.
What is he waiting for? What is he going to do?
Geoffroy’s entire body was shivering of terror. Then, he grabbed a second grenade on his friend’s body and threw it at the militiaman. This time, without counting until five. As he was expecting, the Christ’s soldier, firmly standing on his feet, projected himself into the air. Geoffroy was terrified. How was it possible to jump that high and that fast? Ten, maybe 12 yards. The militiaman followed a parabolic trajectory that would land directly in the hole, where the Kathar soldier was. Geoffroy thought there was no need to fire. The militiaman’s shield was providing him with an impenetrable protection. Then, he dropped his automatic rifle, took the last two grenades still hanging from Gaston’s belt. With tears in his eyes, he methodically pulled both pins. He lied on the back, facing the militiaman, who, attracted by the gravity, was irremediably diving toward him.
Happy the one living for science and improving the world... and who will overcome darkness through science.
The militiaman understood too late what was going on under the rock. Nearing his target, three to six feet away, he still tried to push on the rock with his shield to get out of the blast radius. In vain. Geoffroy let out a battle cry to motivate himself and also to attract every militiaman in the area so his brothers in arms could have a few more minutes. The explosion was so violent that everything was crushed, the huge rock included, which hadn’t asked for anything. Only a crater the size of an MRU would testify for the coming generation, about the brave sacrifice a Kathar warrior had made.
*
* *
The door finally broke. This only took them a few minutes, but it seemed to take an eternity. Trancavel, Aymeric and Jourdain shivered with every detonation coming from the forest. Even if they feared for the lives of their Kathar brothers fighting with the militia, they focused on the mission, concentrating in silence. Jourdain was the first to enter the wagon. As planned, atomic piles of every size were arranged on galleries filling the entire space. In the centre, some type M pile, specially designed for the MRU. Then, the piles were ordered around by decreasing sizes. From type H to type A.
“Jackpot!” Jourdain said proudly.
“Right, but let’s not hang around for too long. Don’t forget, those damn drones are still roaming around,” Trancavel retorted.
He came down the wagon to take a big backpack. Aymeric did the same. He kept mumbling, let’s hurr
y up, let’s hurry up.
“Come on! Throw me everything you can,” Trancavel hurried him.
One, then three, then six type M piles later, the backpack was full. This work was exhausting. With his exoskeleton, Trancavel was the one suffering the least. It still didn’t make him a super warrior, but it was much easier to carry and manipulate some loads. Nevertheless, he couldn’t manipulate the piles lightly. Some basic precautions were needed in order to avoid unpleasant surprises. Even if they were quite resistant, the piles were containing molten atomic matter, which had very little to do with the former third-generation lithium piles, which had been so difficult to recycle.
“Give me some F models now, so I can fill the empty space.”
“And some A and B for me,” Aymeric added, quite busy.
They started to fill the third bag.
“More type M?” Jourdain asked.
“Right, let’s focus on M!” Trancavel answered to his two brothers in arms.
Jourdain plunged a bit in the wagon to reach the so coveted piles. When he got out, a drone was holding Trancavel and Aymeric at gun point. It announced with its metallic voice.
“In the name of the almighty Inosanto, our Lord, you’re under arrest! Immediately stop what you’re doing. Don’t resist or you will be killed.”
Crouched, Trancavel didn’t even dare moving a single finger. With or without exoskeleton, he would never be faster than a drone already aiming at him. Aymeric, holding a MRU pile in his two hands, looked for him, without moving. Obviously, none of them would have enough time to draw their gun and shoot, before being sprayed by bullets in the next second. Trancavel quickly analysed the situation. If it could, the drone would have already killed them. He was sure of this. Inosanto had only one wish - get it over with them, once and for all. Logically, if the drone hadn’t killed him yet, it was meaning, something was preventing it from doing so. He finally got an idea.
The Convoy Page 12
