The Convoy

by Sebastien Acacia

  “Do as I do,” he told Aymeric in a low voice.

  He stood up, carrying the bag full of piles in front of him. Risking of shooting at him might lead to a chain reaction with disastrous consequences for the Church. Let’s just picture a train completely full of atomic piles exploding, leaving a huge hole of several dozen mile diameter that the ocean would fill up, creating an uncontrollable radioactive cloud, which could go either way toward the Sacred lands of South America or of Africa, depending on the unpredictable winds, causing death and destruction for decades. This was the scenario the drone would avoid at all cost. At least, Trancavel was hoping so, and according to the device’s reaction, he had been right. It was swinging from left to right, like a feline, looking for a fire angle. It finally repeated its interjection.

  “In the name of the almighty Inosanto, our Lord, you are under arrest! Immediately stop what you’re doing. Don’t resist or you will be killed.”

  Jourdain was keeping his position, covered, inside the train. He just had a simple gun. So, nothing that could scare a drone away. Also, he couldn’t escape, because if too far from the train, the terrible flying cross would shoot him without any problem, atomic piles or not. But staying wasn’t a good idea. The Legatee would show up, and it would be a completely different matter.

  “What are we doing?” Jourdain asked in a low voice from the doorstep.

  “What do you think we’re doing?”

  “Uhh?”

  “I’m thinking... Jourdain... I’m thinking!”

  A drone wasn’t something to take lightly as Ermy often said to joke. Drone’s measurements were eleven feet high and eight feet wide. It got two damn machine guns shooting 500 big calibre bullets per minutes, sometimes some piercing bullets, sometimes some explosive ones. It could move at half the speed of sound with its two reactors supplied by atomic piles. It could fly to a maximum height of 13,000 feet. It had an autonomy of almost one year. It could resist medium calibre bullets without any problem. It recorded everything and could transmit Inosanto’s voice and image in person, at any time, as a hologram. Nevertheless, Ermy still like to joke, telling a drone couldn’t go under water, couldn’t resist a grenade thrown at the right place, and even less a good rocket in its face.

  Because of the lack of reaction of the three Kathars, the drone insisted again.

  “In the name of the almighty Inosanto, our Lord, you’re under arrest! Immediately stop what you’re doing. Don’t resist or...”

  What was Ermy saying about rockets and drones?

  Trancavel and Aymeric were violently projected backward on several yards. Jourdain ended up plopped to the ground, against the galleries of piles. The drone, or at least what was remaining of it, had collapsed a few yards away. A chaotically twisted machine gun was lying next to the train, the other was still miraculously holding on the huge wreckage of the metallic cross, cut in two by the blast. Its open bowels was letting appeared some incandescent pieces still burning inside.

  “Damn!” Trancavel yelled.

  His bag full of piles had partially protected him from the blast. Nevertheless, because of a dreadful tinnitus, he couldn’t hear anything. It took him some time to fully come around. Aymeric, the closest one to the drone, wasn’t as lucky. The poor bugger was lying unconscious on the other side of the tube, in a mix of muddy salt water and soil. The pile he was carrying was half way from the forest edge next to the ocean, on the opposite side. Jourdain, partially protected by the wagon enclosure, was scrubbing the back of his head, swollen because of the collision with an empty storage gallery. The superficial wound was still impressive under his fingers. When Jourdain appeared at the wagon door, he heard some screams coming from the forest edge. Moving his eyes from the drone remains in front of him, he saw Matilda, jumping of joy, with a rocket launcher on her shoulder. Very excited, she hurried to join them, while Trancavel was slowly straightening, his face a bit slashed by a few shrapnel from the explosion.

  “You’re completely insane!” He railed after finally seeing her.

  “You’re welcome!” She answered him, quite confident and cheerful.

  “Oh my God, I could have died.”

  “So, you believe in God now?” Matilda joked.

  “I don’t give a shit about your damn God!” He retorted her, methodically palpating his face to check he wasn’t too injured.

  “Uhh! We should maybe take care of Aymeric, don’t you think so?” Jourdain interrupting pointing at Aymeric who was difficulty moving.

  “Don’t mind me,” he mumbled, while standing up laboriously.

  “Have you seen what you’ve done?” Trancavel grunted, showing the cuts on his face.

  “Are we chitchatting, or are we filling our bags, and then we leave?” Jourdain interrupted them, happy to be much better than his fellows.

  Tsss... Tsss...

  “Geoffroy? Gaston? Do you hear me?” Trancavel tried.

  Matilda sputtered shyly, getting ready to speak. Trancavel insisted.

  “Geoffroy? Gaston? Do you hear me?”

  “Hmm! Hmm!” Matilda insisted even more.

  “What’s happening again?”

  “If that were them I saw in the forest while coming here, they won’t answer any more, and neither the militiaman they have fought. I’m sorry,” Matilda said, moved.

  “Hey! We don’t have time to be sentimental, we’ve to go.”

  “What about Gaucelin?” Matilda asked.

  “No news,” Trancavel answered curtly.

  He stopped for an instant, and finally asked the question he had on his mind.

  “Blanche?”

  “She’s injured, but she’s fine, don’t worry. She’s waiting for us at the MRU. She told me to come as a back-up. With all the explosions we’ve heard, we thought, you might need some help.”

  “You’re alive, this is the most important. Jourdain run quickly to the MRU with a pile and come land here to load the aircraft. We’re filling our bags. Move!”

  “Right now, chief!” He answered.

  While Jourdain, carrying an atomic pile, was going toward the forest edge, holding his assault rifle, Matilda and Trancavel resumed filling the bags methodically, soon joined by Aymeric who was vigorously massaging his ears to get rid of quite a handicapping continuous hiss.

  “Thanks kid,” the alpha male finally said.

  Matilda didn’t notice. She was just thinking about their brave Gaucelin who had saved them from a sure death. Had he survived? She couldn’t imagine such a huge man unable to get rid of one militiaman. On the other hand, what she had seen in the forest, a real slaughter, didn’t reassure her at all about how determined their enemy was. This mission would be forever remembered for what a sacrifice it was. This human sacrifice the Christ Himself had accepted. This holy sacrifice Inosanto didn’t oppose when it was his turn. The ultimate sacrifice. How people without faith in God, despising the simple idea of belief, putting science higher than any other value, could find enough strength to sacrifice their lives. Which purpose noble enough could justify to surrender oneself like this? Matilda didn’t understand this yet, even if this was already shaking her vision of the world and of humankind.

  While Matilda was telling how Blanche and she had managed to escape from the robot dog and to get out of the tube, the MRU landed in front of them. Trancavel got a communication from the HQ, informing him the Legatee would arrive very soon on the fight premises. Despite being injured, Blanche helped them to pull the bag full of piles into the aircraft hold. Helped with his exoskeleton, Trancavel took care of most of the work without much effort. Once in the air, fleeing as fast as possible from the fighting area, Blanche was surprised to notice that from the eight original members of the group, only five boarded to flee.

  “Five!” Blanche complained loudly.

  “Soon, we will be six,” Matilda reassured her.

  Trancavel, sitting in the co-pilot seat, turned back. Aymeric, knowing what he would say, took a deep breath. Blanche started to
feel her legs shaking. Was this her thigh injury, or had she only anticipated the terrible news to come just by looking into Trancavel’s eyes. He also inspired before telling.

  “Unfortunately, we will only be five, kid.”

  Matilda didn’t understand straight away.

  “You’re forgetting Ermy,” she answered him, disconcertingly naive.

  “No, I’m not forgetting anybody, kid,” Trancavel mourned.

  “What, what....?”

  Matilda’s heart got carried away.

  “He doesn’t answer his intercom any more. The last time he has contacted me, I heard a scream and the communication was interrupted. Maybe captured, or even worse, killed by the Legatee. I’m not sure.”

  “We can’t leave him behind like this! Maybe he’s hiding somewhere, waiting for us,” Matilda declared.

  “Sorry, but we’ve lost enough men for one day. I won’t take any risk to fall into a trap set by the militia. I’m really sorry, kid.”

  “Stop calling me kid! At least, we’ve to try to find him,” she raged.

  “We must go back as fast as possible to save Blanche’s leg,” Aymeric interrupted them. “I promise you, we’ll do everything was can with the satellite monitoring to locate him. Ermy is the smartest of us. If he’s alive, he’ll find a way to signal his presence.”

  Matilda burst into tears. In thirty minutes, they would land in Montségur. Then, they would be able to mourn the people they had lost and find some comfort in the stories, friends, parents and others would tell in their honour. First Paul, now Ermengarde. Matilda joined her hands and started to pray in silent.

  Why? Why are you making me go through such hardships? Haven’t I praised you enough, so you make me suffer like this? I don’t understand any more... show me the way, bring me your comfort...

  Being very modest with her relation with God, she discreetly made her sign of the cross, before getting lost again in her thoughts.

  Mum, soon we’ll come for you!

  *

  * *

  The Legatee was fully conscious that yelling from the forest edge wouldn’t change anything. Nevertheless, he let out a howl while he was looking inside the half-empty wagon. He wasn’t a man who easily got carried away by his emotions. He called the Kathars many names and sent the militiamen on a reconnaissance mission toward the different fighting areas. The feedback came very fast. Less than one hour after the investigation, the robot dogs came back with many various elements. Concerning the militiamen, they appeared difficultly carrying a big, inert and bloody body

  “Alive?” The Legatee asked.

  “He’s still breathing, but in a very bad shape, my Lord,” one of the two militiamen answered.

  “Whatever, this guy is very strong, my Lord,” the second one said.

  The Legatee, surprised by such an incongruous remark, immediately answered him, exceptionally disregarding.

  “Nothing close to a Milicia Christi’s soldier.”

  “But, my Lord...”

  “But what?” The Legatee asked, irritated.

  “Everything indicated he strangled one of us with his bare hands, before being shot by a drone, my Lord.”

  “This is what’s happening when you don’t respect your recovery times,” the Legatee retorted, without any empathy. “Act quickly! Act strongly! This is our motto. Never forget it. At least, this one didn’t escape from you.”

  The last militiaman finally joined them.

  “My Lord, I got the drones’ memories, he respectfully bent.

  “Great! Let’s board without further delay. And don’t even dare letting him die on the way. Inosanto will want to question him.”

  So, I would have at least something to give him to compensate for this mess.

  “We’re going to Terra Fecundis.”

  *

  * *

  Clues

  “...Whatever, my dear Legatee, I won’t oppress you. Obviously, the protection and warning systems of our infrastructure aren’t suitable to face this new rebel threat. We must push all our engineers’ communities to improve the security of our whole railway network.”

  Inosanto, lying in his too big bed, rubbed by one of his delectable nurses, was slowly recovering from his brain biopsy. Standing, motionless, facing this sight he was begrudging every second, the Legatee was carefully listening to his Prophet, who was analysing the situation. Also, he was quite surprised he hadn’t been lynched like he had been expecting. After a short pause, relaxing on his back with closed eyes, the immortal creator of Terra Fecundis Church, added even more quietly.

  “But, I guess you haven’t come to me empty-handed?”

  The Legatee’s face brightened up with a huge smile.

  “As you’re letting me spe...”

  “I haven’t finished yet,” Inosanto interrupted him. “Before you tell me about your achievement I can already imagine being worthwhile, I want to speak about a slight problem regarding our dear militiamen.” The Legatee discreetly bit his lips.

  “I’m listening to you,” Inosanto’s armed wing simply answered.

  “I was very surprised, when I saw the video recorded by the drones, to see that a man, even a huge one of six feet high and 280 pounds of muscles if I’m right, could have killed one of our militiamen with his bare hands. His bare hands, do you realise?”

  “I was precisely going to tell you about this...”

  “You will have time to share your opinion with me about this matter, but, right now, listen to me,” he interrupted him again.

  He paused for a few seconds, while one of his naiads was massaging his neck a bit stronger.

  “If I recall, I have recommended you several times to reassess the nano-booster dosage so they could operate at full power during enough time to avoid this kind of inconvenience.”

  “My Lord, would you let me?”

  “I’m listening to you.”

  “Only our strongest soldiers are able to survive such a dosage. As you know, this is the case with your personal guard and mine, which is made of type A soldiers only. The risk of sudden death or dementia is too high for the other categories with a higher dosage.”

  “I hear your point. But, you’ve to understand, we can’t take the risk that, one day, in one community of our sacred lands, a man a bit stronger and more reckless than the other, might slaughter a militiaman in public, questioning the Church’s divine authority, threatening my empire entire cohesion. You’ve one week to come up with an acceptable solution so this kind of accident never happens again. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear, my Lord,” the Legatee resigned himself.

  “Now, I’m listening to you.”

  Without making any effort to hide how proud he was, the Church’s strong man started his report.

  “First of all, I want to inform you, the huge man we’ve captured is out of the woods. He has undergone several surgeries and should be back on his feet in two days, three maximum. Also, I have discovered something that should lead us to the rebels.”

  Inosanto asked his masseurs to immediately stop their task, and, negligently gesturing, signalled them to get out. The Legatee waited to be alone with him then added.

  “I’m listening to you,” Inosanto told him.

  “We’ve gathered the chips on two dead rebels on the battlefield, or at least on what was left of them. We have also removed the one of the giant man. With the one gathered during the assault on the pile factory, we now have six of them. They were all deactivated. We are thinking, the rebels can deactivate and reactivate them whenever they want. The analyse of the main system of each chip shows they can reprogram them, at least partially. We have to admit, the process is inventive, but they are never erasing the native part of the data where there is an immutable backup of the initial bearer.”

  “Go straight to the fact, Legatee,” Inosanto grew bored.

  “Hmm! We were able to locate every community of the six persons whose chips had been stolen. Six persons reported missing
in the community registers.”

  “Let me guess,” Inosanto interrupted him, “they’re all coming from the same community?”

  “Not really, but from the same territory. The sacred lands of Oceania. And as you know, we only have one decease facility in each sacred land.”

  “So, the rebels’ identification chip supply is in this centre,” Inosanto immediately added.

  “So, they’ve probably established their base there,” the Prophet’s right wing proudly concluded.

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “Arrest all the undertakers in this incineration centre and make them speak under pressure. I don’t think it will take long before I get hold of their accomplice...”

  “I can definitely say this is just like you, Legatee. But tell me... has the forceful method already succeeded with the rebels?”

  “I’ve to admit that...” the Legatee mumbled, before being interrupted again by the Prophet.

  “This honours you to admit it. So I suggest you a softer and more pernicious way.”

  “I’m listening to you, my Lord.”

  “What do you think of infiltrating a spy there?”

  Why I haven’t thought about it earlier! The Legatee mourned.

  “Oh my almighty Prophet! Great idea!” he answered, slightly bending.

  “Is that all you’ve to tell me?” Inosanto disdainfully asked him.

  “Inde...”

  “So you can leave,” he interrupted him.

  The Legatee bowed as a sign of respect and stepped back a little to get closer to the door.

  “Oh! And tell them, they can come back to take care of me.”

  Just this once, the Legatee looked at the exquisite hips of the four young women through their delicate transparent white linen clothes. Once more, he would leave without being able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.