NECESSARY FOR SURVIVAL

by Ian R. Faulkner


FEBRUARY 2008 #8
   
   
   

 

Coombs stood up. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Coombs,” Knoll acknowledged.

The officer took a moment to look around the table at his audience. “Notwithstanding this sanctioned incursion’s primary goals being non-hostile,” he began, “standard light infantry Mek and Sim deployment will be utilised. The total military contingent will be sixteen, in addition, that is, to the medic, Mr. Carson and myself.

“Infill will commence 0630 tomorrow via the Snow Hill gate. The mono track will be reactivated for the duration of our transport into the camp. Once inside, the line will be closed down again and we will proceed toward the first search coordinates on foot.

“From there we will radiate out through the area until each zone is clear and checked. We will continue this activity until either the sweep of the BCI is complete or the exfiltration deadline is reached.”

“And when’s that?” Carson asked.

“Seventy-two hours.”

“Is that a problem, Mr. Carson?” David Chadbourn asked. “Because I thought this had been all agreed between you and your editor,” Chadbourn looked down at his pad, “a Ms. Mallory Grafton?”

“Oh, it has. I just wanted to make sure I’d a way out of the camp before I agreed to be locked up in there.”

“I believe your paranoia and distrust is unhealthy, Mr. Carson,” Hutton-Armstrong said.

He didn’t rise to the bait. He thought he had pushed his luck enough for one day, especially as, given his recent articles on the controversy surrounding the SE installs and the Government’s hidden agenda - an agenda that had nothing to do with their fear of a second Omni-ware outbreak, but everything to do with a means of keeping the Sim workforce in line -, he wasn’t the most popular person in these halls.

“What time do you need me, Coombs?” he asked. “Not too early, I hope.”

“Two hours before infill,” Coombs said and sat down, his brief concluded.

“Okay. Half four it is. I’d better get an early night.”

“Right,” Knoll said, clapping his hands. “Unless anyone has any further questions or comments, I think that concludes everything.”

Silence.

Knoll glanced at each of them in turn, finishing with Carson.

“I look forward to your report, Mr. Carson.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

****

The thing that worried Carson the most as they moved through the city was the lack of people. So far they had not encountered a single infected, nor seen any signs of insurgent activity.

It was unnerving.

Carson had expected the place to be teeming with life and yet, the whole camp appeared to be totally disserted, which was impossible: there was supposed to be over a quarter million infected in the BCI.

“Where are they all?” he asked Coombs, as the man called a halt and ordered the Meks to form a defensive perimeter around them.

“Oh, they’re here,” Coombs said, scrutinising the biosensor he held up before him. “Just well hidden. I’ve been picking up multiple life form readings ever since we left from the station. No visuals. No direct comm. signals. No nanite biofeedback signatures, but plenty of life form indicators.”

Coombs narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand it,” he said. “It’s like they knew we were coming.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” Coombs asked.

The man didn’t wait for an answer, but strode off and ordered one of the spider Meks inside the blackened remains of a nearby public house.

Coombs’ comment worried Carson. How could that many people just disappear? And why?

He turned and watched as the machine, followed by two of the Sim infantry, scuttled over the debris and disappeared into the shadows.

This made no sense.

“Kolly, what readings are you picking up on that gizmo of yours?” Carson called out to the Sim medic, indicating the sensor unit he held in his hands. “Anybody out there?”

Ahoo-Kolldip, better known as Kolly, had been drafted three days ago from the South East Infirmary. He seemed to be as confused as Carson.

“Mr. Carson, if I believe my readings to be correct, then post-organic humans surround us on all sides, Sir.”

Carson stepped closer to the medic. “You’re sure?”

“See for yourself, Sir,” the medic said, showing Carson the sensor readout.

“And they’re not false positives or shadows?”

“No Sir. Although I have to say I do not fully understand the output indicators.”

“If you had to guess?”

“Then I would say the post-organics have obtained stealth technologies far beyond anything I have experienced before.”

“Stealth technologies?”

“Yes Sir. The life readings are only visible on one spectrum, and this would not normally be a life form bandwidth. The scan output is incongruous with flesh based applications.”

“In English, Kolly, I don’t do techno-babble.”
“I believe the post-organic humans have shifted.”


<back/next>

GO TO THE WRITTEN WORD / GO TO #8 - FEBRUARY2008
/ home / about / authors / contact / submissions / copyrights / privacy / site credits / terms and conditions /
/ publisher's word / news / next issue /