by Geoff Wolak
I sighed loudly. ‘No, we can’t leave them there. Bugger.’
I cancelled the mission to fetch the survivors, and had the larger drone duly loaded with food - which would now be parachute dropped. A day later that first chute was seen to open, and to be grabbed by kids, the first cardboard box containing chocolate, water laced with vitamins, tinned meat, and a few kids’ data-pads, age range 3-6 years. The cow says ‘moo’, and the pig says ‘oink’.
Loads were dropped every other day, the survivors soon seen to be waiting at the right time, more and more of them each day. The soldiers stuffed in clothes for kids, socks and pants, woolly hats, and the supply run kept going.
Then, ten days after starting the supply run, a signal came back to us. ‘Hello?’ croaked a voice.
I grabbed my data-pad, others closing in. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ came a dry voice.
‘Yes, we can hear you. Who are you?’
‘I’m Jacob’s father, Ernest,’ croaked the voice. We got video, soon a shaky image of the man’s feet.
‘Ernest, lie down and talk to the front of the toy plane.’
He did so, the man revealing a grey beard and unkempt grey hair, and not looking like he had taken a bath since he had been born. ‘Can you see me on the camera?’
At the embassy, we exchanged looks. ‘How do you know what a camera is?’
‘I’m not stupid, you know.’
‘The others, they … don’t seem to know much.’
‘No, they don’t get schooling much. I had schooling, but not outside.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Don’t rightly recall, but I figure I’m seventy something.’
‘Did you learn of the war?’ I asked.
‘Oh, yes, we all talked about the great war. During the war we went inside, and stayed for … well, a long time. People that went outside never came back.’
‘Did you get our supplies OK?’
‘Yes, and … and I had chocolate when I was young, for my birthday, then … then it was all gone.’
‘If we send you medicine, do you know how to inject it?’
‘We had injections, yes, and tried some around … oh twenty years ago. But it was bad, and the man died.’
‘Ours is good, if you can inject it in the inside of the elbow, the big blue vein.’
‘I reckon so,’ he said, badly in need of a dentist.
‘We’ll send you some next time; make sure the kids don’t get it. What do you need?’
‘Food, medicine, yes. Where … where are you?’
‘Over in Montana, across the mountains to the east.’
‘Should we go there?’
‘No, we’ll come and get you, if … you want to leave and go to a place with much food, and warm beds, and chocolate.’
‘Be crazy not to, but they all grew up here and … don’t rightly reckon they’d want to go.’
‘How many are there?’
‘I reckon … two hundred and a dozen at last count.’
‘And your son is in charge?’
‘He’s the strongest, so he’s in charge, yes.’
‘Tell him … that if he is injected with our medicine, that he’ll be much stronger.’
‘I’ll tell him at supper, yes.’
I muted the link. ‘Computer, upload any captured images from that drone.’
I opened the link again. ‘Ask the people if they wish to go, and to have good food. But we’ll keep sending you some food.’
‘Right you are.’
I cut the link. Facing Henry, I said, ‘Some might want to leave; be tempted out.’
‘Those drones don’t carry much, not for two hundred starving people.’
I nodded. ‘We’ll order a fuel convoy that way, then send the chopper to meet it and refuel, drop supplies and return. If we can drop a suitable load it’ll keep them going for a while.’
‘We could drug them and take them,’ a guard said.
‘That … is an option, but we have a while. And, I suspect that their little bunker is well guarded, maybe even with bobby-traps.’
The fuel convoy was duly dispatched, and with six soldiers and six Seethan police, two Seethan minders, and plenty of supplies on trucks. They snaked south west, the rural Seethans surprised to see them, and that surprise grew the further away the convoy got from the capital. Climbing up into the Rockies, a few roadblocks were met, Seethan bandits shot dead, the drones overhead giving plenty of warning. Barricades were pushed aside, a few Seethan killed by drones when they pointed guns towards the convoy.
What was becoming clear, was that Seethan government control did not reach this far, and neither did television; these mountains were lawless. The convoy halted at the prescribed spot, a valley plateau, and made camp, the helicopter arriving the next day. It took on board fuel, and packed the rear with boxes, setting off west whilst being guided by the overhead drones. Over the survivors site the helicopter descended, the survivors all running away except for the old man. The bird touched down a hundred yards from him, boxes hurriedly pushed out and left. As the bird climbed, the old man waved at the pilots.
A second load was dropped the next day, now with a few nervous observers stood in the doorway, and a third load delivered many tonnes of tinned meat, vacuum packed frozen chicken and fish. Kids’ data-pads were amongst the boxes, one data-pad a comms pad. Later that day, the old man’s face appeared on my pad at the embassy.
‘Hello?’ he croaked.
I activated the link. ‘Hello again.’
‘You look smart,’ he said, staring at the screen, which he held just three inches from his face.
‘Uh … thanks. New suit.’
‘Suit?’
‘Clothes for formal wear.’
‘Right fancy,’ he croaked.
‘Did you … get the food OK?’ I asked.
‘Yes, never had so much. Like when I was young; harvest time.’
‘And the medicine?’
‘I injected Jacob, and now we’ll see how strong he gets.’
‘If anyone is sick, inject them, and then give them plenty of water and tinned meat.’
‘Oh … OK, fella.’
‘Have you seen any Seether?’
‘Seether?’
‘People who look different, big black eyes.’
‘The fish people? Some live with us.’
‘They do?’ I puzzled.
‘Yes, from babies. One older one still alive I reckon.’
‘Do the people want to go where the food is, to come live with us?’
‘Well, they does what Jacob says.’
‘What does Jacob say?’
‘He’ll wait to see how the drugs work, and how strong he gets.’
‘Oh, well … call us if you want, just touch the screen.’ I cut the link. Facing Henry, I said, ‘Seethans have reached that far, at least some families.’
‘There are Seethan mountain people in Canada, so they must have moved south along the Rockies.’
The screen came back to life, an image of the old man’s legs as he walked. At the embassy, I held up a hand. Someone stepped out to the old man.
‘You talk with the food people?’ came a voice, a younger man.
‘Yes,’ croaked the old man. ‘They want us to go live with them, if wees want ta, son.’
‘To go east is fish territory. We have to cross it to get to food people.’
‘Food people mighty clever, son, mighty clever. They can fly!’
‘Gods say we wait for food people, and talk with Gods.’
I was on my feet. ‘Combat stations, all guards! Contact our world! We’ve got company, a temporal incursion!’
I linked in to Jimmy as the guards got ready, drones manned. ‘Jimmy, we’ve got company here, get me some assistance – armed assistance!’
‘What’s happened?’
‘We found some old human survivors in the Rockies, and we just heard them say that the gods told them to await
the food people, and to report in.’
‘Shit.’ He took a moment. ‘OK, help on the way, but standby to evacuate.’
I ran to the room that our guards used to monitor the drones. ‘Scan the area of the survivors, look for a transmitter, anything odd. Block any signals if you see them!’ I pointed at a man. ‘You, open fire on their main door, make some noise somehow. Keep them busy, but not hurt. Where’s our chopper?’
‘With the fuel convoy, boss.’
‘Have soldiers placed aboard, ready to storm that place. Use knock-out gas. Send them back when fuelled.’
‘There’s an aerial of some sort here, boss, but old and rusted.’
I closed in on the man, and his data-pad. ‘Show me.’
‘There, boss,’ the man said, zooming in.
‘That technology looks out of place. Destroy it, any way you can. Some of you try and hit it.’
‘People appearing at the door,’ a man called.
‘That’s the old man,’ I noted. ‘There, next to him, that big guy must be Jacob, their leader. Blind him, now.’ They looked up at me. ‘No, kill him. And the old man. Do it!’
Both men dropped.
‘There may be someone else who could operate a communicator, boss.’
‘If there is, then we’re a long way from home,’ I said. Looks were exchanged. ‘Have that scanner, and those missiles, brought from the portal. Have more missiles brought over to us.’
‘US Marines pouring through the portal, boss. It’s the Rapid Reaction Unit.’
‘Have them disperse, in groups of ten, no more. Keep them spread out.’
I paced up and down, the drones scanning the air above us, reports coming in from the portal. And football practise was cancelled. By midnight, we figured that no signal had been sent – more of a hope that a fact, our helicopter landing a mile away from the survivors complex, behind a hill. Four marines ran forwards, a few canisters of knock-out gas carried by each.
They reached the main entrance to the underground complex in the dark and found it all deathly quiet, the bodies of Jacob and his father having been removed. The main door was solid, but a bolt was visible, sliced through by laser. With the door open an inch, a pen-camera was pushed through, revealing a trap, a grid of sharp steel rigged up to fall. They reached in and locked it in place.
Inside the pitch black corridor they found no signs of life, and stepped cautiously along bare concrete surfaces. At the first bend they could hear distant voices echoing; kids playing. A quick scan revealed several trip wires, easily avoided, warmer air coming from a tunnel on the right, that tunnel now selected. After fifty yards the Marines stepped past a rusted metal grill in the floor, warm air rising, clearly seen in their thermal sights. And there were drag marks here, and blood.
Turning left, and following the drag marks, they found a large vertical pipe, an ear against it relaying sounds, laughter and shouting. Masks and eye-protectors on, they cut a hole in the pipe, the sounds from below now distinct, something of a party going on. Seems that Jacob had not been that popular. Two canisters of gas were dropped down, clanking loudly as they fell. The happy sounds diminished. After a minute, a third canister was released.
Moving on through the dark, now breathing through their masks, the Marines took a spiral metal staircase down, each boot placed down slowly, carefully, and quietly. No thermal signatures were showing up, but warm air was rising, coming from a lower level. That level took ten minutes to reach, all corners and angles checked, few sounds now emanating from the complex. Inside the first rusted metal door they found a large room, twenty feet high and sixty feet wide, and now host to around fifty sleeping inhabitants. And there, on a table, lay Jacob and his father, already sliced up ready for supper. A fire raged in a corner, flickering orange lights dancing around the dark room.
Edging through the room, and stepping over the sleepy inhabitants, the Marines noticed a wide corridor leading on. Two Marines went forwards whilst one held position on the stairwell, one remaining at the top of the stairwell. Sleeping members of the commune were stepped over. At the next junction the two Marines had three choices, and turned left, many people having tried to flee this way before collapsing. Fifty yards in they passed lit torches burning brightly, the complex eerily quiet. Poking heads into rooms, they noted bunk beds with stinking sheets, often twenty or thirty beds to a room. They pressed on.
At the end of the corridor they found a smaller room, inside it just four beds, and an inner wooden door. That door led through to just one bed, bottles of old liquor stacked up. Jacob’s room, they figured. They made a thorough search, but found nothing of interest, a detailed EM scan revealing nothing.
‘Guys,’ came a radio call, distorted. ‘Back up to the human meat feast.’
They turned and ran, soon back at the bodies of Jacob and the old man.
‘I have an isotope reading on that guy,’ a Marine said through his face mask.
The first two Marines scanned Jacob, finding a faint reading from the base of his skull.
‘Fucker has an implant of some sort.’
‘Do we remove it?’
‘Might set it off. No, we take the head; they’ll have to skip dessert.’
A laser rifle was utilised, the head severed and bagged, the Marines retreating up the stairs, but still quietly. Outside, they ran as a group back to the helicopter, masks now off, and were soon heading back.
‘A severed head?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, with some sort of transmitter in it; base of the skull,’ a guard reported.
‘A … transmitter, in the base of his skull?’
Henry said, ‘Maybe, when he … chanted the right phrase, it activated.’
I made a face and shrugged. ‘This guy is … what, forty years old. So, someone implanted him when he was … a young adult, so that makes it twenty years ago.’
‘And when the food people arrived, whoever created the implant must have been warned,’ Henry suggested.
‘Why not leave an active micro-portal or something? If they know we’re coming, then they must know when.’
‘Maybe they just wanted an … alarm call for when we did finally arrive.’
‘Assuming that we … are the food people,’ I pointed out.
‘You think that they were waiting for advanced Seethans to pop back?’ Henry puzzled.
‘They waited for that Seethan stealth ship and fired on it, so it’s possible.’
‘I’d say probable, given that they attacked the Seether before,’ Henry added. ‘And, they may be … quite surprised to find us here.’
Head without a body
I linked in to Jimmy, to see how the battle plans were coming along.
‘A head?’ he queried.
‘We killed the guys who I figured could send a signal, and the Marines snuck in, knock-out gas used. They found the previous un-elected leader being cut-up for the pot, and detected an isotope at the base of his spine, or top of his spine I guess, base of his skull. A scan of the complex showed nothing, the leader’s room searched.’
‘Then he has an implant with an isotope powering it, and must know how to call up the gods. Unfortunately, as soon as that implant detects his death a call will be made anyway.’
‘That call just says he’s dead, not who killed him.’
‘True, but they’ll want to implant the next leader, so may have had a signal by now. Still, they’ll just send someone to implant the next leader. Have the head kept there, I’ll send a team, but send Marines back to stake out that complex. Company … is coming, and ahead of time. We’ve sent you missiles and scanners, but … but I don’t want to fight a battle there, and not now. This is … out of kilter. Still, I have an idea.’
‘An idea?’
‘I’ll let you know. Go stake out that complex. And, Susan is pissed at you.’
‘What have I done?’
‘You put yourself in danger. I suggest you return till the crisis is … less of a crisis. That way you’ll still ha
ve a marriage. Oh, and I’ve locked out my old world a week or two early, just in case. Fingers crossed.’
I decided to head back, and to save my marriage, leaving Henry to explain to the Seether why they were being invaded in the north. As I travelled to Manson by helicopter, Henry was about to start a ball rolling and, once started, this would have a profound effect on our relationship with the Seether.
The President himself went to see Henry, reports of hundreds of ‘very large soldiers’ arriving in the north. Henry settled the President and issued hot chocolate and tuna, then seated himself. Unfortunately, Pleb was translating today.
‘Mister President, we have … discovered a new enemy in the … far west, and this enemy is very strong, strong like us ancestors.’
The President was horrified.
Henry continued, ‘We have sent for more soldiers, and strong guns, and we shall fight if we have to … to protect our Seethan children.’
‘You are not many. We have army, we fight,’ the President offered.
‘We shall not wish to see you hurt, so we will fight … and we shall do all we can to protect you.’
Pleb told the President: ‘The ancestors will fight, and all sacrifice themselves to protect us, and fight bravely to the last.’
The President, being a politician, saw an opportunity for tightening his grip. He went on national TV, his image black and white and a little grainy, and explained this new threat from the west, scaring his electorate. He then made a mistake. He told that same electorate that the ancestors were here, but in small numbers, but that they would die fighting to save the Seether, shoulder to shoulder, and in solidarity.
I got a translation of that as I arrived in Manson. I called Henry. ‘Henry, just what the fuck did you tell him?’
‘Not what he heard, that’s for sure. Pleb … did the translating.’
‘Good old Pleb.’
‘What?’
‘The President just cut away a third of his power and authority and gave it to us, and did it on national TV.’
‘We should be popular, yes - if we survive this.’
‘I’m going to meet Jimmy and make some battle plans. If you feel it necessary you can evacuate the embassy.’
‘Given what the President just announced, evacuation would seem … unwise.’
