Chapter 1
Something is Eating Our Diregoats
Around 83 years after the night of purple flames
Dex had been covertly observing the scavenger camp for most of the afternoon, and everything he’d seen so far made him want to turn around and pretend he’d never accepted them as a client. His reputation score would suffer, but reputation wouldn’t do him any good if he was dead.
But gigs were hard enough to find already, which was why he’d been forced against his better judgement to take this one. And the only reason he’d gotten the job was because no one else was willing to work for scavengers. Because scavengers were, by definition, insane. And even by scavenger standards, scavengers who were willing to spelunk into 3rd Civ ruins were bonkers. Much safer to harvest 1st Civ ruins for steel and other mundane materials, or the gutted remains of 2nd Civ ruins for bits of advanced tech that had been missed by earlier scavengers who had already disarmed the worst of the dangers.
The camp itself was dwarfed by the ruins of the 3rd Civ industrial complex that lay beyond it. The size of a small city, the smooth flowing lines of its original infrastructure were broken by jagged tears and craters from the fall and subsequent siege and infighting. Still, this one had come through the troubles in better condition than most Dex had seen in his travels, which probably meant that it was packed to the gills with boobytraps, mechanical guardians and gene-slaved monstrosities. Nothing else would have prevented the 3rd civ survivors from thoroughly looting the everloving shit out of it.
Which would explain why the scavenger camp he’s been nervously scouting from a safe (very far) distance was occupied solely by teenagers. Young teenagers. Geniuses at the most reckless, dangerous phase of their development. Despite the potential massive reward in advanced tech represented by the ruins, none of the more established outfits would be willing to risk it.
Dex had known he’d likely be dealing with teenagers when he accepted the gig via Tree-Mail, but he’d been hoping there’s be at least one or two adults helping reign in their enthusiasm. But he’d been watching for hours without seeing a single person who looked like they were over 15.
He didn’t think they had spotted him in that time. Which was worrying in an of itself, and didn’t bode well for the survivability of the fledgling scavenger company. It was possible they were just playing coy, but teenagers generally weren’t that subtle.
But he couldn’t justify delaying any longer.
“Hello to the Camp!”
The wiry teen standing guard almost fell from the lookout tower in his surprise. He quickly swiveled the mounted heavy cannon they’d built towards the sound, but couldn’t see it’s source through the heavy forest that ran practically to the edge of their camp. A more experienced group would have cleared a kill zone surrounding the area, but this group was in a hurry to get into the ruins and make their fortune.
“Who goes there?” Shouted Phos, hating the way his voice cracked in his nervousness.
“You called for an exterminator?”
Phos’ hands relaxed their death grip on his weapon, “You’re Momma’s Boy?” he asked with relief.
“I’m the owner and operator of Momma’s Boy Holistic Extermination services, yes, though my name is Index Washington.”
Once he was sure the kid wasn’t going to immediately fire on him, Dex took a few steps beyond the tree line, “Your request said something was attacking your herd?” he asked leadingly.
Phos’ head bobbed in acknowledgement, “We’ve been losing a diregoat every few days for the last three weeks. Nobody’s seen what’s getting them, not even the people on shephard duty. At this rate the rest will be gone within the next month or so, and then we’ll be out of food!”
If the shepherds were as lackluster in their duties as the boy guarding their camp, Dex wasn’t really shocked that they hadn’t seen the culprit.
Other teens had been attracted by the commotion, but no one else spoke up until a large, overweight boy a little older than the rest pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
“You’re the Momma’s Boy?” he asked belligerently.
“I’m Index Washington, owner operator of Momma’s Boy Holistic Ex-”
“What took you so long? We’ve lost three more diregoats waiting for you! We lost one just last night!”
Dex took the interruption in stride, “You’re pretty far off the beaten path. It took a while for me and my equipment to make our way here.”
“What equipment?” spit the boy.
Dex took note of the boy’s tone. Here was a lad who was used to getting what he wanted. He was obviously resentful that the crew he led had been forced to call in outside help to deal with the problem, and was trying to assert his leadership in front of his peers.
Pretty much what Dex had expected, so he shrugged and looked back over his shoulder into the woods.
“Antonia, heel.” He called out.
A deeply artificial voice echoed out from the woods.
“CONFIRMED”
The eyes of the gathered teens widened as a line of 17 green mules trudged out from the woods to stand at the side of their master. Each one was practically buried under a heavy load of lumpy, black sacks attached to their harnesses, and each one had a length of black rope attaching it to the next mule in the line. As the mule at the front reached Dex, the entire line came to a shuffling halt and a small speaker at the neck of the front blared to life.
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“ORDER COMPLETED”
Dex reached out absentmindedly and rubbed the nose of the lead Mule, who leaned into his hand with affection.
“So,” he said to the boy leader, “Why don’t you show me the scene of the crime?”
Dex’s opinion of the scavengers fell a little more when he saw that they hadn’t yet removed the remains of the latest victim from the diregoat enclosure. The remaining herd was obviously at the edge of a panic attack, and probably hadn’t slept the entire night. The males had formed a defensive perimeter around their does and kids, and their green fur stood on end as their horns built up the static charge that was their main defense against predators.
Diregoats where an absolute motherfucker to kill. The size of a small horse, they were stronger, faster and when necessary a hell of a lot meaner than anything natural evolution had ever been brought to the table. Engineered by 3rd civ at the height of its power, they had been designed to soften the landing for the survivors of the fall everyone knew was coming. Able to digest pretty much anything organic, the creatures’ teats not only supplied nutritionally complete goat milk, but also goat silk, goat plastic and even small quantities of goat steel. Most of the scavengers’ camp was constructed using materials that had come from the engorged nipples of their herd.
But whatever had killed this one had been unimpressed. All that remained was a steaming core of bones and the most inedible bits of the goat’s digestive system.
Literally steaming
“You said this happened last night?” Asked Dex.
The leader, who had finally given his name as Ellceedee, nodded. “The herd started screaming around midnight. By the time the shepherds got them under control and found the body, this was all that was left. No sign of the predator”
“And it’s still steaming now.” Dex observed musingly.
Ell nodded again. “Whatever’s getting them is cooking them alive then eating most of meat. Whenever we find the remains they’re too hot to touch, and they stay hot for about a day afterwards. Some sort of chemical attack, but we haven’t been able to figure out what sort.”
“Really?” asked Dex curiously.
Ell looked away, “Whatever chemical it is, it keeps dissolving our instruments when we try to examine it. Whatever’s left once it cools down doesn’t tell us anything.”
Dex nodded with sympathy. After the rise and fall of three separate high technology civilizations, the world was literally littered with artifacts that current geniuses couldn’t begin to understand. Scavenger collectives like this one existed in hope of finding that one peice of technology or infrastructure that could be either reproduced or controlled using the limited tools they had today.
“And that,” Dex said “Is why you called in the professionals. I probably won’t be able to figure out the chemical composition used in the attack, but Antonia can definitely find and kill whatever critter is causing it.”
Ell and the rest of his group looked over at the line of mules, who were casually munching of the leaves of some shrubbery the goats hadn’t yet gotten around to eating.
“Really?” asked Ell, a skeptical look on his face.
Dex grinned. “Antonia!”
“ACKNOWLEDGED”
Dex pointed at the body “Examine remains. Locate predator. Kill predator.”
“CONFIRMED”
But the mules didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything. They took a few minutes to finish reducing the shrubbery to a skeleton of twigs before finally shuffling over and forming a rough circle around the remains. The watching teens’ skepticism grew.
But then their skepticism turned to a mixture of awe, disgust and even horror as a teeming mass of insects seemed to vomit their way out of the lumpy black sacks carried by the mules. Millions of ants crawled over the mules and each other in their haste to get at the remains of the diregoat. Soon the carcass was completely buried under a throbbing pile of exoskeletons.
“This will just take a couple of minutes.” explained Dex to his slackjawed clients. “She’s getting the scent of her prey.”
“She?” asked Ell in a small voice.
“Antonia.” explained Dex.
Ell opened his mouth to ask a follow up question, but was distracted as the pile of ants seemed to dissolved back into the packs from whence they came. Where the diregoat’s bones once stood, now nothing remained.
“She took the bones?” Ell asked.
“Sorry about that. We had a long trip here and she’s a bit peckish.”
Ell’s eyes grew wide, and Dex thought he saw the light of greed shining in them. “The ants can gain nutritional value from the bones of diregoats? That’s very impressive.”
“No, no,” Dex hastily explained. “She can’t get any nutritional value from them, but the programs that direct the ants are too stupid to realize that.”
When the last of the ants had crawled back aboard their steeds, the speaker blared to life.
“REMAINS EXAMINED. SCENT ACQUIRED. RECOMMEND HILL 9 FOR KILL MISSION.”
“Confirm Hill 9 for kill mission,” said Dex, “Proceed with kill mission”
“CONFIRMED”
This time only the 9th mule in the line had a horde of ants spew forth from the sacks on its back. The smaller (comparatively) brigade of ants marched their way to the edge of the enclosure, passed easily under the fence and disappeared into the tall grass on the other side.
“Hill 9?” asked Ell.
“Based off the Saharan Silver Ant” explained Dex. “Very heat resistant. Ideal for critters that use heat as a weapon.”
“How many different types of ants do you have?” asked Ell with growing enthusiasm.
Dex didn’t like the look he saw in Ells eyes. “17 mules, 17 hills, 17 types of ant. But only around 12 of them are actually useful.” he explained cautiously.
“How do you control them?”
“Patent pending” Dex replied curtly.
Ell’s face lost all emotion as he realized he had overplayed his hand. Patents had ceased to be a thing with the fall of 1st civ. The phrase “patent pending” had come to mean the owner didn’t have any intention of revealing any valuable intellectual property that they made their living off of. It was a not so polite way of saying “none of your business”
“Sorry,” Ell said hastily. “Just curious is all.” he wandered off and began a whispered conversation with his peers.
Dex didn’t like the looks of this situation at all. Hopefully Antonia would find whatever the hell it was soon so they could get out of here.
Just then, a loud shrieking voice erupted from the woods.
“Speak of the devil.” Dex muttered.
“What’s happening?” asked
“I’m pretty sure Antonia just found your problem.”
More shrieking voices joined the first.
“Sounds like there’s a lot of them.” cautioned Ell. “Will the ants she sent be able to handle it? Should you send more in?”
Dex shook his head. “Sending in other Hills that aren’t suited for the job would just waste them for nothing. Hill 9 can handle it. We just have to wait”
And sure enough, one by one the shrieks were silenced. Some were cut off abruptly, some ended in wet gurgles, but eventually the woods were quiet once again.
“What now?” asked Ell.
“Now we see what we’re dealing with.” said Dex, pointing to the edge of the fence, where the silver horde was beginning to emerge, proudly carrying their victims home across thousands of tiny backs.
The ants lay the corpses at the feet of their master, like a cat with a dead mouse. And the dead critters did resemble mice to a certain extent. If mice were 8 inches long, hairless, and covered in gently glowing scales.
Ell bent down and reached his hand toward the corpses, but then snatched it back as he felt the blistering heat still emanating from their bodies.
“Seems like your usual wild 3rd Civ science project.” said Dex.