“Listen up! A mission where you come back with the same
number of rounds, limbs and members as you went out with,
that's the most successful kind you can have.”
- Arms Master Benjamin Goldsmith
“We've got someone living in the house two down from the demolished surgery,” said Emily on the commlink, “I can see a light inside.”
“Roger that. Emily, hold your position, I'm coming over. Everyone keep on your toes. Otto, come with me. We'll have a little look-see,” said Simon.
Ottavio and Simon crept to Emily's position and watched the window. As she had said, an oil light was flickering about inside.
“Lucas, can you see anything?” asked Simon.
Lucas, stationed in the watch tower, had been following their progress from afar. He examined the area.
“No sir,” he said at last, “I've got too much obstruction. I don't have a clear line of site to anything between the supermarket and the objective area, sir, it's far too crowded.”
“Damn. Alright, alright, Otto, get under that window and tell me what's in there,” whispered Simon.
Ottavio scuttled quietly, observing his visibility on his optical display closely. He stuck to the shadows, ducking along the building line until he crouched like a fly underneath the window.
Listening carefully, he could hear faint murmurings from within, “... ain't got nothing. It's not like we're the only ones here, you know. It's not like I don't got no more gear.”
Another voice, closer, could be heard, “Yeah, but that's the way Sammy operates. Deal with it. Good night.”
“So? I mean, you know, Sammy's got his stash and all that, fine, I get it, it's his, you know, but what about a bit of tit for tat, is all I'm saying.”
“Why don't you ask him instead of pestering me. I'm trying to catch some shut-eye, if you hadn't noticed.”
“I will, you know, I have. I mean, he's always going on about his stash, and going on about starting a caravan or something, but, like, charity begins with a home, you know.”
“At home, numb knuckle.”
“What?”
“If you ask me, which you probably won't, but if you did, and you used your noggin, instead of banging on about what he's got, try figuring out what he don't got. Get it? You get that going, you'll be on his caravan.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, man, you're stupid.”
“Don't call me stupid.”
“Listen, if I've got, um, a rock, and you've got a rock...”
“I've got lots of rocks, Al!”
“Yeah, in your head, I know. Now, shut up and listen. Now, if you want to trade me a rock for a rock, what's the point? See? I've got mine, you've got yours, there's no need. No need, so no trade. But if you had something better than a rock, like a...”
“A bigger rock?”
Al sounded peeved, “No... Look, didn't I tell you to shut up? Now if you were to get, I don't know, a useful tool, like maybe a screwdriver, or a hammer...”
“A what?”
Al sighed, “I'll be sure to show you if I ever find one. It's not important. Oh, crap. Right, let's stick with a screwdriver. You know what a screwdriver is? Right, so you got a screwdriver and I got a rock, I'd want to swap my rock for your screwdriver, see? Because a rock is worth less than a screwdriver.”
“Um... Yeah, a rock's definitely worth less.”
“Right, so since you got something worth more than me, I'll wanna to deal with you. That's economics, that is. You gotta use your noggin.”
“Oh, I got it! I think.”
“Something tells me you don't got it...”
“Nah. See, the bit with the screwdriver. How am I supposed to make a one of those? Out of the rocks or something?”
“Aw, man! Look, just let it go for today and I'll run it by you tomorrow. Now get some sleep!”
“But where am I supposed to find one of them ammers?”
“That's a hammer, ding-bat, and I was only using it as an example...”
Ottavio rolled his eyes and left them there, crawling back to the previous house like a mouse.
“Two men, sir. Scavengers,” he said over the commlink, “Not a threat.”
“Are they armed?” asked Simon.
“I didn't look in the window, just listened. It sounded like they were winding down for the night.”
“So they're possibly armed.”
“What? No, they're just talking.”
“That's 'just talking, sir'. You didn't check for weapons, which means the possibility has not been eliminated...”
Ottavio protested, “We can pass them by quietly. They're too busy yapping to hear us anyway.”
“How hard would it be to take them out?” asked Simon.
“Why would we need to?”
“I didn't ask for your opinion, Otto.”
Ottavio swallowed. Something in Simon's voice sounded very cold, very unlike the Simon he used to know.
“They'd put up no resistance,” he said, “But...”
“But what?”
“They're harmless.”
“Says you. Now give me a damn straight answer, Agent!” barked Ottavio's commlink, “Can you take them out quietly?”
“Of course I can, because they're not armed!”
Up the road, Simon held the bridge of his nose and breathed heavily.
“Right-oh mates, Otto's having a crisis of conscience,” he muttered, “Whatever, fine. We'll pass 'em by. One less mess for the cleanup crew, I guess. So let's keep on quietly. Ottavio, stay under that damn window until we've reached that cluster of buildings over there by the tree, then follow us on. If they so much as poke their heads out of the window, you cut them down, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“That's yeah, yeah, sir! The rest of you, move! Lucas, eyes peeled,” he hissed.
The crew made their way silently on the other side of the road while Ottavio sat under the window again, listening to inane conversation regarding the value of trash and the intricacies of bargaining.
A fly swished passed his nose. He swatted it and it buzzed angrily away.
Wheaton, like so many others, was a dying corpse with inhabitants clinging to it like flies. The wastes crept slowly toward the cities as towns and suburbs became progressively void of inhabitants.
Those who left early settled in the few major cities that had remained unaffected by the fires of war, returning to a semblance of normal life.
Those who stayed behind spent their time scavenging among the debris of a world lost, trying to find any kind of comfort from the pieces they found.
Crabmen, muttrats and muttdogs, mutated beasts that wandered the wastelands, hardly ever made it anywhere near the big cities.
They ran a gauntlet of hostility from any inhabitant in the valence towns; Locals trained their weapons on them as a matter of duty, sport or a little of both. The sewers and aqueducts, however, provided a safe passage, often all the way to heart of a city. Gates, locks and sentries had been installed at the major points to prevent their access and, for the most part, the city population dismissed them as a disgusting novelty.
Still, every now and then a malfunctioning gate provided passage for all sorts of strange creatures, mutated and anomalous, to scuttle, squirm and crawl their way to make their home in the sewers and subways of the cities.
Some ended up as trophies, others were destroyed without ceremony by various teams hastily formed to deal with an incursion.
Perched underneath the window, Ottavio wondered quietly what quality of life these two could have. Their greatest concern, it seemed, was how to trade up the junk they found scavenging through the wreckage of suburbia for the chance of one more day on Earth.
If they disappeared tomorrow, the world would continue to turn, oblivious to their existence or lack thereof.
And yet they deserved to live, he decided, they deserved his efforts.
He had joined Houston to make a difference, to defend the sorry lives of these souls. That is of what he had convinced himself, at least. He did not intend to be a hero, or some savior of the downtrodden, but he felt that he needed something to act as a reason, and this was as good and noble a reason as any.
Among the throng in the big cities, out here in the fringes, further out in the wastes, people were doing their all to recreate. It was the throbbing heart of civilization, and Houston was part of keeping it beating.
And he was a part of Houston.
He wondered if he were born in the fringes, or in the wastes, if he would fare so well. He decided that he would, that he would have pushed for all of his might to grow into something better, and leave the world a better place. For a moment he almost believed himself.
In reality, he admitted, he could have just as easily wound up another scavenger, or a drug dealer, or a rag. The environment would shape his behavior. It would have chewed him up and turned him into a hollow, bitter wreck like those shown on the evening news.
That was a conundrum, he thought as he watched the shadows of his companions moving from structure to fallen structure. If he were born again, would his nature come through in his other self?
“Otto, you gonna sit there all day? Get your ass up here!” came Simon's voice.
Ottavio hustled up to the others and they continued on their way, moving from street to broken street, until they arrived at a clearing. Looming up in front of them were the remnants of a sporting complex. Once a hot spot for vibrant teenagers and young families, it was now host to the unmistakable stench of decay.
Simon pulled his crew in tight and holed up in a cluster of walls lining a short road up to the complex.
Sweeping slowly and methodically, they found nothing within the fallen buildings but a handful of muttrats and few mangy mutated dogs. The rats made convenient target practice, the dogs presented Simon with another opportunity to demonstrate his grotesque ability with a blade.
After a solid half hour, they had turned up nothing.
“If it's anywhere, it'll be in the sporting complex,” said Norbert.
“Yeah? Well thanks for the heads up, Norbert. We do this thing by the book, and that means moving house to house, leaving nothing uncovered,” grunted Simon.
“I'm saying that we could save a lot of time if we eliminated the more obvious targets first.”
Simon sighed, “Alright. Fine. We'll hit the big ones. We've pretty much knocked off these wrecks anyway. Lucas?”
“Lucas here, go ahead.”
“The sporting complex. You got a line of sight?”
“Yes, sir.”
Simon sighed, “Well?”
“There's a sentry-bot stationed by the main gates, along with two slug turrets on the pillars to the right and left. Not even sure if they're working. Cameras all around. If I was a betting man,” said Lucas, his voice slightly crackly, “I’d put money on there being something very interesting inside.”
“Could you hit the bot from where you are?” asked Simon.
“I've got a bead on him right now. So long as he doesn't move about too much, you're looking at one deactivated robot.”
“It could be a ruse, man,” suggested Norbert.
“It could be a ruse, sir. And in what way?” asked Simon.
“Fortify one building to attract attention. By the time the defenses have been breached, the real location has had enough warning to prepare itself, call for reinforcements, batten down the hatches.”
“We've checked the others.”
“On this side of the complex, sir,” said Norbert.
Simon gave him an eyeballing.
“You got anything to add, Otto?”
Ottavio reluctantly agreed with Norbert. “He's got a point, I guess,” he said, “That's a display of force, not insurmountable, probably designed to keep the locals out, and it's certainly enough to hold us back for a bit. Besides, our mission is to find the laboratory, not destroy the defenses. The building is of definite interest, but, personally, rather than knocking on the front door, I'd attempt some other mode of entry.”
Norbert grunted his agreement. Simon looked pensive. He preferred a direct fight to sneaking about in fallen buildings. It was his call.
“OK, fine. What other mode of entry are you thinking of?”
“Those cameras, turrets and whatever is within, must be powered. Local power here is not via a plant, so we're looking at a small fusion generator. Access to that generator must be swift in the event of overheating or a failure,” said Ottavio, “So somewhere close by. Could be one of these facilities, or...”
His eyes locked onto a maintenance shed, about one hundred meters from the main entrance.
“They would not have it so open as to be obvious, but I reckon there would be an electrical access point in there. If we can't gain access, at least we'll be able to disable most of the defenses quickly by cutting the power.”
Simon looked to Cassandra.
“You?” he asked.
“Couldn't hurt to have a look,” she said, shrugging, “Beats a frontal assault, gives us a chance to examine any other possible modes of entry, and could give us the drop on anyone or anything that's inside.”
“Right. OK. Whatever, we'll stay here. Otto, take Em with you. You've got ten minutes to find a way in, golden? Otherwise you'd better lock a mag into that rifle. Keep me posted, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” said Ottavio, making his way through the shadows to the maintenance shed.
Emily followed closely. They timed their movements to avoid detection by the sweeping cameras and turrets, and were soon hidden by the walls of the shed.
“He can be a dick but he's got a good head on his shoulders,” she said.
“Simon?” asked Ottavio, checking to make sure his commlink was off.
“Norbert! He's probably just touchy getting the feel of the new group. He looks like a bit of loner, you know, does his thing the way he wants, by himself, you know?”
“Well he's going the right way about it,” Ottavio whispered.
“I think he and Simon have history,” she said, looking around the wall for traps, “Just the way he talks. I haven't had the heart to ask him, you know. Hold up!”
She pointed to a large concrete circle hidden by tufts of dried grass and bracken. “I think you've found your access point, Otto. Stand back a bit, let me have a look at it first. Ah, see, it's primed!”
“Primed?”
Emily ignored him, excited at her find. She commanded, “Stand back, this baby is mine.”
Emily knelt down and got to work, carefully working her tools in and around the edge of the circle.
“Shit, it's a toughy! Almost, wait, almost...” she whispered, easing a long, dark shim into the crack. A faint click sounded. “There, she's all yours,” said Emily, standing up proudly.
Ottavio was impressed by the demonstration, “OK, I guess that was cool. What did you just do?”
He knelt down to inspect her handy work.
“Oh, it's a simple reed switch sensor, see, so I put a teeny magnet next to the actuator. Now when you open the grate, it'll think it's still closed, see? You gonna open that thing or just look at it?”
Ottavio gripped the cover firmly and pulled, his myoactuators kicking in, making it seem effortless to raise the circular slab of concrete.
“Ha, see? Now hang on a tick,” said Emily, rummaging around in her kit. She pulled out a small can and sprayed the reed switch.
“Glue,” she said, “Fast drying. Neat trick I learned back in Washington. Stops it from being knocked about by clumsy oafs like yourself.”
She gave a cheeky grin and dropped down into the hole. Ottavio called in the progress to Simon and followed.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” whispered Ottavio, adjusting his night vision
Inside the hole was almost too dark to see by. A spider's shell dropped lightly from the wall as Ottavio brushed past it.
“You mind your eyes, and I'll mind mine. Hey, check this out!” Emily whispered as she wriggled her way past Ottavio to a panel on the wall.
“Sweet! Boswell, model fourteen. Piece of cake, watch and learn!”
Ottavio stood back and let Emily work at the electronics. She expertly placed her fingers around the panel, feeling for faint traces of electrical activity.
“See?” she said, knowing full well Ottavio did not, “The serial cable to the interface is around... here. Ah, now we're cooking. Now, as a starting point, I'll press five. Ooh, see, now that's one of the numbers, but it isn't the first one. The resonance just isn't right. Hang on.”
She babbled away, tapping various combinations, letting Ottavio know all about it.
“No fours, which means we've got a double in there. And since we only have a six and a five... nine... one! So it has to be six-five-one-one-nine! You wanna punch it in?”
“Sure, six-five-one-one-nine,” said Ottavio, tapping the numbers on the panel.
“Don't forget to press 'OK', dingus,” giggled Emily, proud of her new skills.
“Cheers,” said Ottavio.
He pressed OK and an emergency light came flickering on. The wall next to the panel slid open, revealing an access tunnel. He turned off his night vision.
“Emily, you are nothing short of awesome,” laughed Ottavio.
“I bet you say that to all the gals, boyo! Come on, you take point.”
Ottavio looked at her sideways.
“I've always wanted to say that in the field,” she said.
Ottavio smiled and turned back, looking down the dimly lit tunnel.
He called in, “Simon, we've found what appears to be a maintenance tunnel running toward the main building. Emily has disabled the security, we're about to head in.”
“Roger that,” said Simon, “I'm not about to put all our eggs into one basket just yet. Let me know if and when you get access inside.”
“Yes, sir,” said Ottavio. He stepped into the tunnel, stooping to fit through. Electrical wiring, gas and water pipes followed them along. Ottavio could hear a low hum around him.
They edged along slowly until they reached a service ladder leading upward into the maintenance shed. The top was covered by a grate.
“Continue on down the tunnel, or pop our heads up?” asked Emily.
“We'll have a look around here. You want to check out the grate?”
“Sure, stand back.”
Emily climbed up and poked around. It was clear, so Ottavio heaved the grate up and out. The two climbed up into the dark shed. Ottavio turned on his torch and looked around, inspecting the various items on the shelves. His torch fell onto a fusion generator.
“This is some high tech stuff,” he muttered, “It's not a two-bit operation. Someone's getting geared up for industry.”
Emily whistled, “You're right. That thing could power a whole factory, no sweat.”
Ottavio and Emily scouted around thoroughly, but no sign of any surveillance could be found.
He called through to Simon, “Simon, come in.”
After a brief pause, Simon's voice came through, “You in, Otto?”
“Kind of, sir. We're in the shed and from the looks of things we're heading in the right direction. Got a beefed up fusion generator, and some serious cabling. I'm surprised recon didn't pick up the EM signature,” he said, “Got here from an access point off the tunnel, which looks like it heads directly under the main structure and then some.”
“Is it safe?”
“Safer than sitting around out there.”
“Wait five, we're coming in. Lucas, keep your eyes on that gate. If any alarms sound or there's any sign of reinforcements arriving, I want that bot destroyed, got it?”
There was no response from the commlink. Simon paused in stride. It was not like Lucas to miss an order.
“Lucas?” he called through. Still no response.
“Lucas come in!”
He sounded genuinely perturbed.
“Sorry, sir. Come again,” said Lucas.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I guess the commlink must have failed. What was it you wanted?”
“Alarm goes off, you shoot bot. Easy enough?”
“Consider it done,” said Lucas.
Simon, coming down from his scare, growled, “And don't give me this bullshit about a dodgy commlink. If I can't rely on you...”
Lucas interrupted, “You can rely on me. My apologies, sir.”
Within minutes the rest of the troop had arrived. Simon looked about.
“Nicely done, mates,” he said, patting Emily and Ottavio on the back, “Kudos and congrats and all that. Now get back down there and get into the main complex. Cassandra, go with Otto. Emily, stay here and take a squizz at the front door. If something goes down I want out fast.”
Emily started on the door as Ottavio and Cassandra lowered themselves back into the tunnels. They made their way along slowly and painfully, stooping even lower to fit under dangling cables and hastily fitted piping.
Ottavio watched his geolocation on his optical display carefully.
“