Machine God: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (9 page)

Orden continued.

“The allocated time limit is 180 minutes once you touch ground in the target zone. All SOPs will apply, but exemptions can be made if Hecto sees fit. May your mission prove useful to the greater good of the Bulwark."

“For the greater good,” the crowd said.

I repeated the phrase a second later. 

“As always, you will gain limited access to the armory. The choice of your weapons will be limited to your permission rank and Hecto’s recommendations. Succeed sustainably or grave measures will be taken against you.”

She opened the steel gate, stepped sideways and ordered two soldiers to follow her inside the armory to survey our weapon selection process. We went straight to the armored showcase. Orden talked to Hecto in whispering mode, Ceedee watched me in bewilderment and helped me get the armor on.

“Need a little quickie?”

“That would be lovely.”

"The Bulwark has created the ultimate armor protection suit, modeled after the panzer of the armadillo."

The armor hull did look like the plates of the shelled animal. Ceedee helped me attach the armor to my body and explained its usage.

“It’s flavored with the three-color desert pattern, providing the most effective camouflage in the Lost Lands. But don’t get too comfortable—it may protect against rifle rounds but it’s next to useless against directed-energy weapons.”

Directed-energy weapons? 

What the hell was I dealing with?

Ceedee looked like she was about to tell me but Orden sniffed dangerously close, so she continued with the setup. 

“The armor, dubbed the armordillo, provides maximum camouflage and protection on the rear when you have to reload. Which means you don't have to take cover, unless you're facing energy weaponry."

"Like a rolled-up armadillo. A war-lusty armadillo."

"Hence the word-play."

"Another speciality of the armored suit is the built-in weapon rucksack. Inside the shell plating, you find various magnetic niches onto which you can attach your weaponry and water reserves."

Ceedee pulled out a grenade and made it snap to the inner coating of the armordillo suit.

“No fumbling with strings, opening pockets or cording. Even you can handle it.”

Some folks in the team giggled. Looked like the rookie jokes were imminent.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Hecto remembered his role as the fireteam captain and told us what to pick. A showcase of weapon lockers opened up and made me gasp. With all the talk about limited resources, the Bulwark surely offered an impressive arsenal of firearms. I recognized anything from assault weapons, portable artillery and even sentries. 

“Portable artillery is off-limits, so focus on the assault weapons. Ceedee, grab your preferred SR. Glitch, modular UMP or the AK-BL8. Darwin, I’m sure you want to make love to your scattergun of choice.”

“I do.”

“Go ahead,” Hecto said with a smirk.

“And don’t forget about the grapple guns. We’re going to zipline a bit.”

While he mentioned the other names, my eyes darted toward the modular AK-BL8. It was the same baby I’ve trained with, and it was certainly my preferred firearm, but the second I grabbed the mechanized beauty, a red sign flashed from my commcuff.

“Warning: weapon is off-limits.”

I stepped back and sighed. Hecto approached me.

“You only have a tier one weapon permission, and the AK-BL8 is a tier two firearm. The tier one section is to your left.”

I shrugged.

“Isn’t it smart to have the best weapon equipped?”

“As a rookie, you still have the lowest ranking. In this cluster, you have to prove your worth. Perform well today and in the upcoming missions, and you will receive the perm for higher level arms.”

He patted my shoulder, but it felt patronizing. Nevertheless, I abided.

The tier one showcase disappointed, to say the least. A wide array of pistols lay in front of me, followed by mechanized batons and two types of MPs. Still, I didn’t complain. My choice fell to the 15mm Viper with the armor-piercing bolts. I had used its replica in the training sessions and fell in love with it. High accuracy and decent firepower with minimum weight. My current permission allowed me to take three ten round magazines. I attached the firearm and the mags to the magnetic niches of the insides of my armor when Hecto’s voice rang again.

“And rookie?”

“Yeah?”

“Pick up an EMP grenade. Just in case.”

An electro-magnetic pulse grenade against humans? Didn’t make sense, but I trusted his choice.

Although the question arose: who was the real enemy?

27

After everyone picked their weapon layout, we assembled in the hangar. One of the gates opened, and a heavily-armored troop transporter rolled out. 

I had to admit, the vehicle was impressive. It looked more like a tank than a transporter. Hecto grinned as he pointed toward the mobile fortress like a proud father.

“This is the Fireturtle II, one of Bulwark’s finest APCs. Its armor can withstand RPG fire and even IEDs.”

The surface spotted an angular design, probably to deflect radar waves. It did resemble the shelled back of a tortoise.

“Hooray for turtle power,” I said.

Nobody smiled.

One of the full-armored soldiers climbed inside the driver’s seat. The rest of us traversed the opened hatch on the rear and strapped ourselves to the seats inside. The transporter easily carried enough space for twenty folks.

My glance fell to the faces in my team—there was Hecto of course, Ceedee, Glitch, some older guy and two armored guards. I wondered whether they’d aid us during the mission, or simply watched us. 

Making sure we didn’t make a run for it.

Speaking of which, with all the armor and weapons we now possessed, couldn’t we simply use it against the Bulwark guards? My glance sank to the Dust Viper 15mm pistol stuck to my inner armordillo. With my reflexes, I could have easily snapped it off to dispose of two guards. Wasn’t anyone else ever thinking about this? I watched the faces in my team. They all seemed in a higher state of awareness, probably preparing their minds for the mission. I brushed the rebellious thought aside but kept it in the hinterland of my consciousness. With the obsessive surveillance of Bulwark, they must have implemented some kind of security feature to prevent us from running amok. My instinct told me I was soon going to find out.

Hecto hit the inner hull, the hatch closed and an artificial yellow light filled our space. The machine roared alive and rolled on. I could feel the vehicle’s power vibrating through the hull. My head rotated around and tried to spot a window, but apart from the tiny slots above our seats, it was a closed, armored space.

“Nervous, rookie?” Ceedee said with a smug smile.

“Excitement is a better word. I want to see how much my training has prepared me.”

Hecto chimed in.

“Training teaches you to be fit and aim right, that’s about it. No training in the world can prepare you for the nightmare in the Lost Lands.”

Talking about being gloomy.

Wasn’t the captain supposed to fire up his team for the operation? 

The two guards far to my left sat still like statues frozen to their seats. Either they were dozing off behind their face shields, or they closely listened to our conversations. Making sure no improper words leaped out. Either way, I chose my words carefully.

“So, our mission is what exactly?”

Ceedee spoke again. She seemed to be the only Bulwark citizen who wanted to talk to me.

“We’re supposed to make contact with the survivors, escort them safely to the APC and bring them back home.”

“Do you know them?”

“What, me? Of course not.”

“So we’re supposed to return a bunch of strangers to our HQ. What if they refuse to come with us?”

“They won’t,” Hecto said a bit too quickly.

“Survivors in small numbers rarely make it in the Lost Lands, at least not in the long-term. They lack medical aids, proper shelter and food. Not to mention the hope for a better tomorrow. Only a society with a working infrastructure can provide that.”

Good luck, I thought. Telling survivors to join a society where they get treated like criminals, put in cells and forced to reclaim basic rights. It wasn’t an enticing sales pitch, unless they dug steel-styled slavery. 

But seeing Hecto’s impressive weapon layout, I figured his idea of persuasion probably differed from mine.

“So, we’re going to roll out in the Abandoned City, right? What was it named before?"

One of the guards roared his throat. I’m sure it was no coincidence. Reason enough to approach the topic from a different angle.

“So, what are your SOPs then?”

“The same you learned in Basic. We recon the area on our route and avoid the streets in favor for the alleys, ruins and rooms. It’s going to take up more time, but it’s safer than facing sniper fire and IEDs.”

Sniper fire and IEDs. The terms repeated in my mind. So the enemy was human, but who? Surely not someone from our cluster.

“Anything I need to know about the enemy?”

Ceedee helped me out again.

“There’s a low chance we encounter scavengers. Renegade little groups that roam the ruins for buried treasures.”

She added a smile.

“Like the one we found in the ruin a few months ago.”

Her smile warmed my heart, or maybe it was the flaming personality of hers.

“No scavenger ever took me home. Looks like I’m no treasure after all.”

Even Hecto smiled.

“It sounds easy, but do not underestimate the enemy. They will be wild and less educated than our kind, but they still pose a threat. A mad person with a gun is a dangerous man.”

"That's the worst we have to face?"

Glitch said,

"Well, there's another cluster with—“

"It's unlikely we'll encounter them," Hecto said without letting Glitch finish the sentence.

"What kind of other cluster?"

"It doesn't matter for this mission. Focus on the mall and rescuing its survivors."

I checked my gear again. The armordillo made me look like a bulky man-tank. It would slow me down a bit, but at least its color matched the environment. 

Let’s hope it provided proper protection.

The Dust Viper granted me solid defense in the short-to-midrange. But what the heck was the EMP for?

I swallowed my bewilderment and attached the explosive to my armor.

Hecto gave me a satisfying nod. I closed my eyes and focused on my breath. 

It was time for battle engagement.

28

“Roll out,” Hecto said. 

We unstrapped from our seats, left the APC through the opened hatch and touched sandy ground with the Abandoned City, Sector 7. The driver parked the Fireturtle II inside a ruinous compound. The dust devoured the ground floor and seemed to creep up the pillars. Or maybe the structure was sinking into the sand, it was hard to tell.

The APC’s exterior hull changed its color to the surrounding. The sandy-brown rear morphed into a concrete grayish mix and blended in.

Interesting camouflage technology.

Hecto’s mighty voice caught my attention again.

“I’ve updated the location on your map. We stay on route.”

A zigzag line flickered over the sector map on the display on my commcuff. It crossed buildings and led straight to an octagon-shaped foundation that must have been the forsaken mall. 

“Let’s motor,” Hecto said and took charge.

We ran next to the broken house fronts of the ruins and entered the back alleys.

What a view.

Hardened sand dominated the ground, drowned in rubble and wreckages. I still wondered what had caused this calamity, but this was hardly the time to ask for clarification. We entered desolate rooms through holes in the wall, climbed over the rubble and cleared every chamber in our path. The motion sensor of my commcuff kept quiet. 

“Clear,” Ceedee said, so we proceeded to the next rooms. 

It would have been far easier to tread the wide-open streets, but as Hecto had said before, sniper fire and IEDs endangered the march through the main roads.

While staying in formation, I inspected the gear of my comrades. Ceedee carried some sort of sniper rifle that must have been almost two meters long. A desert beauty with one heck of a scope and a mechanized tripod for stability. Probably packed quite a punch, just like Ceedee’s attitude.

The guy called Darwin carried a scattergun, Glitch a modular UMP and Hecto, of course, the Bulwark pride—the AK-BL8 with its attached crystalline blade. The weapon of my choice, if it hadn't been for my low standing. Well, if I showed my worth during this mission, the committee would grant me a similar firearm.

At least that’s what I hoped.

When we entered another desolate apartment on the first floor, Hecto raised his left fist. Everyone stopped.

I whispered.

“What is it?”

I pushed myself against the wall and peeked over the torn-apart window ledge. The sight showed an empty intersection covered in craters and rusty car wreckages. The sun bleached everything into a golden tint. An eerie silence devoured the scenario, interrupted only by the wind whistling through the ruins.

“My scanners don’t pick up anything,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean crap. They only detect movement, not camping snipers.”

“Do you think…?”

I looked through a hole in the wall facing the intersection. The nearby, half-finished skyscrapers offered a perfect vantage point for sharpshooters. 

“We’ll avoid the intersection and move around.”

He updated the route on our maps. Glitch intertwined.

“But that’s going to extend our mission time.”

“Do you rather want to return with a bullet in your head?”

Nobody did.

“Then let’s move.”

We chose the adjacent building, shot up the stairs and halted near the ledge with the broken windows. Under us waited a back alley with too much wreckage, so we used our grapple guns to traverse the abyss overground. 

Aim.

Shoot.

Connect to the cable and ride the line.