“Hut, don't touch the gun, don't,” Carlos whispered, covering the weapon with his palm. “I repeat - sit quietly, like mice. And mice don't shoot or make any sudden moves.”
“We're going to get caught, aren't we?”
“Why would they do that? Markers with codes I put on the last microbots before leaving. It's a pity there aren't more of them; they were useful little guys. But now, the three former drones are climbing in a group somewhere in the narrow air ducts, leaving behind presents. I think our hosts will be chasing them for at least another half an hour.”
“And those who are rattling their wheels now nearby?”
“They have raised the alarm and are sending in reinforcements. You've read the intercepts of their combat schedule yourself.”
“Anything else I can figure out,” sighed the old man, folding his arms across his chest and involuntarily gripping the straps of his gear. “I mean, I know they'd be beating on us with machine guns by now, but I'm still scared.”
Carlos listened to the fading roar, then nodded contentedly to the whirring motors below and smiled faintly:
“Yeah, in case we fail, we hardly have time to understand anything; they'll be stuffed with lead in a moment. Otherwise, we're garbage, guys. Silent and uninteresting trash in one of the thousands of bins all over the city. But if we ever start flashing our clipboard, or if we ever go into an ambush, then yes, then our lives will be short and full of gunfire... How much farther did we have to go?”
Sharra, still as a statue, whispered:
“Three kms more. Half an hour of waddling, given the speed and the tunnel crossings.”
“Then we'll doze for fifteen minutes, and then we'll hook up with the driver again. We'll check the route and choose the exit point. From there we walk, without any identification codes. Let's just hope we're in the middle of nowhere, and that all the cowboys are on the other side of town.”
The older man carefully extended the water pipe into the mask, took a few sips, and asked more out of spite:
“And when hope doesn't work out, and we get busted?”
“Then you'll hear how loud I can yell the command ‘Fire!’,” Carlos replied phlegmatically and lurched against the vibrating wall. In fifteen minutes, it was quite possible to take a nap.
***
The light flashed brightly, illuminating the empty room, only to go out a moment later. And again. And again.
“It works,” Tirith grunted contentedly and poked his claw at the tiny panel on the wall again. After playing with the switch, he beckoned to the tired boy and asked: “Show me again how to make heat. I forgot...”
“Here's a toggle switch. You turn it here - it's hot, here - it's cold. Only it won't be cold yet; the refrigeration units have been crushed. Maybe in a couple of months, we'll be able to repair it.”
“I don't need it cold; there's nowhere to put the snow outside. And warm is good... By the way, how old are you? I can't figure out if you're a warrior or a puppy from a younger litter.”
Asham shrugged and leaned against the wall, having only sat down a few times during their long hectic day. Good thing the mutant leader had made sure and the captive masters were fed lunch and put up in a heated hangar in the evening, pouring a pile of clothes and sleeping bags in there.
“I'm twelve, but we grow up early. A lot of us have been on patrols since we were ten, listening to the frequencies on the walkie-talkies, or manning the posts across the wasteland.”
“Ha, twelve! We go hunting on our own at three. True, few live to be twenty... But I'll live to be twenty!”
“Of course, you will,” the morose ‘personal helper’ quipped.
The fanged snout leaned over the frozen kid and grinned rather:
“Don't take me for a fool, Ash. I only look like a dumb mutt with no brains. You come out of a stinking pit, and now you're bossing me around. Yes, from the pit. Yeah, I lived in it. For a long time. Gathered a pack, trained it. Hanging out with the cyborgs at all the bargains and meetings. But a dumb mutt, yes, a dumb mutt. That's why Ш tore everyone's throat out, and Ш was the only one left. I wanted one beast under me, and now I'm gonna unravel everybody's guts.”
“Why did you have to go to the bidding? The Шrreconcilable only fight with others, don't they?”
“Because a clever robot will ride out and raid the same place a year later. Because the robot will remember the way, scout your defenses, buy your goods, and see how you handle the iron. The main thing is not to take up arms, but you will never be able to tell the Blinders from the Irreconcilables... But the smart robot will be sold for parts, and the dumb mute will eat a lot and sleep in a warm hole... And you, so as not to bite your teeth in vain, I have devised a punishment. Next time my servant will work harder and giggle less at his master... All right, you go to the Baldies and eat. When the sun begins to set, I'll call for you...”
The sun had just touched the snow-covered horizon when Tirith went out into the courtyard and called to Asham, who was following close behind:
“They sent you here to give you tea. Then they didn't work hard at debris removal, only whispering in the corners. Fat, cunning, sneaky. There are such in any pack. They follow the leader and pick up scraps from his table. But you humans have forgotten the laws of the wilderness. When the leader dies, his acolytes get eaten first... Here's a bone for you, Ash. Before sunset you can stick this bone in any of the six the guards take away. You can stick it in the eye. You can stick it in your leg. Anywhere you want. But if the sun goes down and you don't make a choice, the guards will eat you. You got it? And tomorrow, someone will have to make a choice again if they don't want to work again.”
The boy looked at the piece of a rib he had enclosed in his hands and threw it on the snow with horror:
“I can't! I can't...”
“Remember, overgrown puppy, I never tell you twice. It's all been said. The sun will go down, and the guards will get fresh meat. Either you pick one of the chatterboxes, or you go to the bonfire yourself. By the way, my mutts like to skin their prey while it's still alive - it's fun...”
The toothy creatures standing around watched with interest as six grown men shouted at the sobbing lad. How slowly the sun was receding over the horizon. The smell of fear wafting all around them. And the frightened and hostile silence from the thin film of windows with the shadows of people behind them. Slaves and servants of the former colony of the Downworlders watched and waited to see what choice the little man would make. They pitied and hated him at the same time as if he had disrupted the established world order and brought all the troubles of the world upon the inhabitants of the peaceful village.
Asham slowly picked up the fragment of bone and stood up, looking with weeping eyes to himself. Then he stepped toward the nearest man, who hadn't had time to step back, and seldom stabbed him in the throat with the sharp end of his rib. Turning to the rather grumbling mutants, he wheezed:
“I've made my choice...”
The hunched figure slowly walked toward the open door, raking the muddy snow with her boots. Behind her, the guards were already prodding the survivors with sticks to set up the goats and drag the prearranged dried layers of peat from the hydroponic plantations. Tirith was about to teach another lesson to the humans...
***
The clicking speaker came to life and muttered sadly:
“We made a bad choice, Analyst. The second Totem failed the mission. We'll have to prepare to repel an Irreconcilable attack without a working reactor in the near future.”
“What's with all this strange news?”
“You asked me to keep an eye on everything that happens in the neighborhood. Intelligence has been monitoring the operation to catch Totem. First, the patrols stumbled upon a breakout point, then they deciphered the route and cornered the group. Ten minutes ago, they were wiped out. The cyborgs lost several vehicles during the pursuit and attack, but that doesn't matter to us. The men were wiped out.”
“Bodies taken? Is that in the intercept?”
“What bodies?” The Defender was astonished. “The explosives detonated, and all that was left were melted walls.”
“The walls?” The Analyst was astonished, too. “Tell me more. How did you get to them, did you find out?”
The speaker coughed and mouthed:
“Elementary! We counted the codes of the destroyed drones, saw where their markers were, and followed them. When the explosions began in the tunnels, they just chased the robot interceptors, not giving them a chance to get a foothold somewhere or run away to the surface. And that was it, really.”
The Analyst seemed relieved. But cars don't breathe, do they?
“I see. Then we wait for the signal from Totem.”
“What signal do you want?”
“I gave the man a tactical nuclear bomb. The ones we found in the vault. The power there is minimal, but believe me, when this toy goes off, we'll know right away...”
After a long surprised pause, the Defender cautiously inquired:
“Didn't you give him anything else?”
“I did. The access codes for identification with the northern enclave. Remember, fifteen years ago, we kept in touch with them. Another underground city in the former mines to the north. Unfortunately, the Irreconables beat them up pretty badly, and the connection was severed. Though I've analyzed the patrol zones of their neighbors and the way they avoided certain areas, but I don't think they were able to wipe out the North Enclave entirely. Not only that, they've managed to gain a foothold in the former spaceport area, near the troop depots.”
“Another Blinders? I thought they were burned along with the mines.”
“They survived; Totem can use their help. At least, that's what I hope. Otherwise, his group will have to make a huge detour across the badlands. We did stir up the neighbors' nest pretty well, though. As it is, feedback from the northerners is received, and someone will meet and provide support. How organized they are is unknown, but at least something. I passed a few gifts with Totem so he wouldn't visit empty-handed.”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Wait, wait... But if the drone markers are just a distraction, where's your protégé now?”
“That's a good question, Defender. I'd like to know the answer to that, too...”
***
In the middle of the endless corridor, Carlos gestured for his partners to move forward and backward to provide security. He removed a tiny transmitter plate from his pocket and attached it to one of the plastic panels lining the walls. Waiting for the panel to flash a string of icons, began typing the commands downloaded into the memory bank during the training:
“Emergency Protocol Identification. Status - survivors. Support - normal, according to bunker deactivation procedure. Countdown to launch - five seconds. Four. Three...”
When the panel slid to the side, the earthling sent his faithful ‘dog’ ahead of him, then called the fighters with their escorts and also shoved them into the dark gap of the open transition. Making sure no one else was around, he ducked in after him. After lingering for a second, the panel silently fell into place.
“Where are we?”
“It's close now. Another hundred meters, and that's it; we're there.”
“Yeah? Where are the walls thick and the armor plates and stuff?”
Carlos laughed softly:
“You know what the biggest joke of the backup bunker is? It was prepared for personnel training. So the bunker is actually about twenty different-sized rooms built into an underground oil distillation plant. It's full of pipes and wires and different tanks and other stuff. And squeezed in amongst it is the so-called emergency control bunker. They hollowed out a piece of the corridor in the rock above and leaned a huge door with a lot of locks. And they dragged an air-train tube through here and made a couple of emergency technical exits like this. When the nuclear strike came, the main track collapsed. Then the machines ripped the bunker open and chewed through the rock in every direction, but they never found anything. And there's the bunker right there, standing abandoned. Now, wait for a second...”
Standing in front of the plastic door blocking the passage, the man found a small panel with a camera peephole and said:
“Emergency protocol, evacuation. Confirm access and finish disarming.”
“Your name?”
“Carlos.”
“Your name isn't on the personnel list,” the panel said indignantly.
“My immediate supervisor is Zashtash Swar, clearance by evacuation category. Open emergency files signed by him, update the registration system.”
“Stand by... The system is being updated... State your name.”
“Carlos.”
“No name. According to the updated rules, all living subjects are allowed in. Come on in.”
The tiny green light next to the camera peephole changed to red, and the lock clicked.
“There you go, boys. Still, the backup bunker was set up by technicians. And among them were quite competent people who understood that in case of a real mess, only a few would be able to save themselves. And these few must be given any chance at all. All the more so because the bunker is just a tiny shelter with limited resources. This is where most of the government's important documents and other bureaucratic garbage were stolen. That is why they have invented a simplified access procedure for survivors. If you're an insider, you get in. If you're an outsider, you'll just end up squawking at the door.”
“Wonderful,” sighed Hut, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the fogged glass of the mask from outside. “What's the red light?”
“Local marking. Green - ready to work. Red, it works. Just have to wait a minute for the emergency stopper to go off. Last defense against intruders. Pull the door any sooner, and the whole place blows up. In the meantime, you might want to add a little more air in here to get air. Anyway, it's advisable to change the suits inside for spare ones. You don't want to carry the dust around with you.”
They heard another click, and just below the first red light, the second one lit up.
“Welcome now,” Carlos gingerly pulled the handle. The thin door swung open, letting people in through the door, lit by emergency lights.
“How did you get so smart on our heads,” the old man grumbled, fiddling with the gear regulator. “I can't remember, I used to work with machines and ‘dogs’, but here you are, secret passages and different buttons...”
“You can thank the Blinders for that. At first they sheltered some of the survivors. The former chief electrician, Mr. Svar. From him, they learned about their warehouses and this corner. And managed to keep the knowledge, fortunately for us... Everyone, we have arrived...”
The three men stood in a small room with a low ceiling, from which three open passages diverged to the sides.
“The left one leads to the living quarters. Two staff rooms for eight people. Bunk beds, a refrigerator, and a stationary filtration unit. There's supposed to be water... The central one leads to the office block. It's mostly papers, jewelry safes, and other junk in there. Immediately to the right will be a rack with the proverbial key in one of the boxes on it. Somewhere nearby are optical crystals with a technical library. If we find it, the Wild will be golden. It contains everything there is to know about metalwork, the construction of various weapons, and experimental observations on the cultivation of various crops in areas with unfavorable climates. In a word, it is the only thing of real value now, unlike gold and other trinkets... And to the right, to the transport area. From there, a technical climb to the lower levels and exit to the pneumatic train station. What's that station, though? A meter and a half high tube and capsules with seats.”
“Can we sleep?” Practical Sharra asked. “I could do with an hour's rest.”
“Ten minutes to find what you want, another ten to change outfits. I have a sneaking suspicion we're expecting company. Still, we've made quite a mess of things. Any competent cyborg will pick up the trail and bring a pack of hunters to follow. So we'll rest later, but let's have a look around.”
In five minutes on a wide central table on top of the blind emergency communication screens, which no one needs any more, piled light protective radiation suits, spare oxygen cylinders and batteries. A little later, three small crates were placed nearby. One held a padded master key case for the sleeper reactor, more like a thick plastic book with lots of buttons and connectors on the sides. Others held piles of library crystals.
After a meticulous examination of their new wardrobe, Carlos chose three suits and gave the order:
“Let's change. Same model. Oxygen and batteries were taken from the ‘dogs’; I can't vouch for these; they'd all been lying around too long in the wrong place. At least we checked ours more than once. One more thing, boys. Load on my assistant everything you need: ammunition, explosive remnants, etc. He'll haul it up to the right hatch, and you'll have to leave the waddler runaways behind. They won't fit with us; they're too big.”
“Would you have to carry a lot of gear?” Hut wondered, trying to pick out a suit that suited his height from the selections.
“Well, not all the time you have to chill. But if someone hadn't been dozing off at the last meeting, they'd have remembered we brought a driver along for a reason. We'll have transportation. I hope so.”
“Uh-oh... There were more meetings than I can count. And my head is not dissected; it remembers only the main things.”
“And what's the main thing?” Carlos laughed.
“That for the key promised to pay more generously than the Wild. At that price, I'll be able to get to the place on my belly; no robot helper needed.”
“Good. Sharra, you asked me why I gave you sanitary napkins. Get 'em out. Time for a shower before a long hike...”
***
The three big-looking cars rolled onto the ramp of the interchange and froze. The makers of the K8197 wanted to use combat cyborgs for the upcoming war in the city. Excellent multi-layered armor, a powerful machine gun in the tiny turret above, and two drum-type rapid-fire grenade launchers. Weapons to break through barricades, destroying enemy manpower. After the First War, the Irreconcilables added a drone box to the bottom for spy drones that looked like many-legged spiders and got an excellent patrol cyborg capable of moving quickly through endless corridors of security perimeters. Block the passage, delay the advance of the enemy, and wait for the main heavy forces to approach. A perfectly balanced machine for its tasks.
And now, three K8197s were blocking the only way to the surface. A road that would take them to the upper levels and thence to the cold skies. A pursuit group had managed to untangle someone else's tracks and was now searching the corridors nearby. Another minute or two and the strangers would come face to face with the chasers. All they have to do is figure out which particular hole the refinery people had managed to crawl into.
“Do we have to crawl through that gut? We'll never make it to the end of the world!”
Hut peered closely at the narrow tube, at the side of which Carlos had removed the lid. A black tunnel culminated in a flap on his left and led to darkness on his right, curving slowly upward.
“Do you see the cable underneath? There on the rack of carts. We lay it on these troughs; the wheels should align. Then we hook the cable to the runner at the front and connect the battery to the motor. The charge should be enough for five round trips. We need one. One cart each, a fourth for supplies. And up to the post station. That's where all the paper, groceries, and other stuff went down. We were to return from the dungeon and have a look around. There should be a light rover there for the patrol service. The self-propelled baby carriage is mothballed, and the spare wheels should be close by. I hope to be able to get the unit running after all these years, too. They built it with care in those days, and if they preserved it, they didn't spare the grease.”
“Can't you do it with your feet? I really don't like all sorts of holes after hard labor.”
“Our ‘dogs’ will use their feet. Did we have to carry a rocket on each for nothing? We'll tune them up, attach a machine gun to one of them, and let them run and have fun.”
“We can put plastid on it; we've got a little left.”
“We'll save the explosives. I've got another present left; the Blinders didn't spare it. That's it, Hut; you'll remember your mining past later. For now, you're first up; here's your cart and lantern. Sharra's behind you with the spare wagon and me. Come on, let's get going. I've got all the flaps open by remote control. We'll be outfitting the ‘dogs’ by the time you get going. I'll have to close all the doors behind you. So that after the gift we won't be thrown away by the blast wave...”
One of the K8197s received a data packet from the drones that had scattered around and duplicated the signal to its neighbors:
“Movement in the lower tier! Three targets, maneuverable, moving with acceleration. ETA two minutes... One of the drones destroyed, enemy armed!”
The cyborgs roared their engines and rolled off to the sides, clearing the center of the square for the fight to come. At the same time, the corral team was signaling the detection of the enemy. The ring slowly tightened as more and more combat robots rushed to the intersection. One or two minutes K8197s would hold the men back, and then the insolent would not be able to escape; they would be piled on top of them in droves.
First out of the corridor flew a tiny ball, its polished sides gleaming under the bright light of the spotlights. After a short burst to the side, the ball exploded, scattering a cloud of silvery dust all around it, which a moment later was replaced by a blinding flash: HROW-WOOM! An electronic pulse struck the tangle of wires, blinding the cyborgs' sensory systems for a moment. Three sharp-nosed missiles burst out of the corridor, spinning divergent spirals. K8197 machine guns barked, and one of the bursts managed to turn a ravenous arrow of fire into a brown ball of fire. But the other two presents dodged the steel stingers and slammed into the nearest car, ripping the side open and scattering the stuffing all over the hall.
The last to jump onto the ramp was the ‘dogs’, which looked like iron-clad cockroaches with stubby legs and a foot and a half in height. The middle one unfolded the narrow sting of a machine gun and began spraying ceramic bullets into the face of the right cyborg; the other two darted away, trying to get to the next passageway.
The robot, caught in the fire, sprinted backward, frantically fuming with the rubber of its wheels. Its machine gun had no way of detecting the nimble enemy. Bundles of grenades exploded from the open embrasures, shattering everything around it.
The second K8197 moved parallel with a pair of runners and wiped out the rear ‘dog’ with the first well-aimed shot. He finished the second one off with all his rifles, turning the flimsy hull into a handful of burning fragments that flew like smoke into the planned passageway.
The aliens' machine gun clattering behind them sank, and another series of explosions tossed the mangled ‘dog’ against the wall. The fight was over.
When the assault teams burst into the square a minute later, they were left with only the burning wreckage.
“The objects were analyzed. No people were found. Where is the search party?”
“Left the barricade and is on its way to the site of the fighting.”
“Abort. Team, return to the previous location and continue the pursuit. Repeat, no men sighted.”
“Copy that. Execute...”
Explosive charges slammed down, blowing out the sand-covered blast doors. A light search rover rides out of the melted ruins and into the hole in the door: a frail structure of pipes, springs, a powerful engine, and huge wheels. Sharra, nestled in the driver's seat, deftly turned and sped the car toward the sparse chain of hills to the north. Carlos, sitting behind him, struggled to see anything on the tablet that was bouncing in his hands. Hut settled in the gunner's chair a little higher, wary of the thrower's tables.
“We've got ten kilometers to go over there, between the hills! Try to keep going straight at all times! Go out on the old freeway, along it a little to the right and under the overpass! From there, keep going north! The sooner we get away, the better! We've got the bulk of the Irreconcilables behind us. It'll take us a couple of hours to get to the communications point; then we'll get a lineup. Come on, Sharra, you're the man to beat.”
The rover had just cleared the first low gorge when they were just behind them with a tremendous cloud of dust.
Astonished Hut shot a glance at the laughing commander and clarified:
“Your present?”
“Aha! I hope that'll hold them for at least half a day!”
“If I were a tin can, I'd better hide somewhere. If you go visiting with such gifts, then after the next visit, no one will pick up the bones...”
After three hours, the sniper lying in the bushes carefully removed the safety and whispered into the cobweb attached to the side of the radio:
“Observing target unaccompanied. Confirmed-unaccompanied. Range two hundred.”
“Work.”
His finger carefully selected the slack, and the rifle habitually hit the shock absorber in his shoulder. Continuing to look through the optics, the sniper smiled slightly - he never missed. The human body, stuffed with implants and computers, could not miss. Never...