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Coombs ignored Carson, turned his back on him and comm.-linked to the spider Meks. The two remaining machines had retreated almost to the building; one of those now dragged its hind legs and had smoke pouring from its hood vents. The Meks formed up around the entrance. “Sir?” “What Sim?” Coombs said. He disengaged his comm. and turned to greet the returning infantryman. “Report.” “Ground floor secured, Sir. We have rigged the staircase to the rear with fragmentation mines and Melgant-Keemut is preparing the flag for launch.” Coombs nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now stand guard and keep an eye on those Meks.” “Coombs. Wait,” Carson said, as he crossed the room and caught up with the officer. “What’ll happen when they receive the transmission?” “Let go,” Coombs said, looking pointedly at the hand Carson had placed on his arm. “What’ll happen?” Carson repeated. “What do you think will happen?” Coombs said. Carson waited. Then, as Coombs remained silent, said, “Just tell me.” “Are you really this naïve? Work it out, Carson. I don’t have time to —” “Make time,” Carson snapped. “Fine. You want to die. Fine. I’ll tell you. “Those mutant fuckers have the best weapon tech I've ever seen. Their stealth gear is off the chart. And you know what the TGP was worried about? “Kids. “Fucking population growth. “They thought the infected were breeding like rabbits, not arming for Armageddon. With the forced depopulation of the original Omni-ware outbreak, the current low birth rate amongst the genetically pure, and the continuing clone disallowance, the idiots were so terrified the infected would become the dominant species on the planet, that they dreamed up a way to either deny the population growth, or prove infected children were not genetically viable for adoption.” “Oh my God,” Carson said. Coombs nodded. “Once the public backed off they would then be able to deal with the infected once and for all. No more camps. No more chance Omni-ware bleed. No more public outcry.” “No more infected.” “Right,” Coombs said. “No more infected and lots of dead children.” “Oh my God?” Carson repeated, horrified by the truth. “They were never worried about the insurgent activity. Sure, the insurgents exist, but they’re not the terrorist threat you guys make them out to be. The majority of the reported insurgent activity is manufactured to keep people complacent and believing the camps are justified.” “But,” Carson said. “Your mandate was to assess —” “A ruse, just like the recon Sims.” The penny dropped. “You killed them?” “One of the benefits of SE remote activation.” “Why kill your own men?” Carson couldn’t believe what he was being told. “Verisimilitude.” “Verisimilitude? What the hell’s all that out there?” Carson said, eyes wide. Coombs looked away. Spat. “I think they’ve fooled us all,” he said. “I think eradication of the infected will prove a tad more difficult than anticipated.” Coombs strode off and Carson returned to Kolly’s side. The medic was attempting to treat the guard at the doorway. “Melgant-Ji Segim, you are injured. Let me help.” White gel bled from a cut above the Sim’s eye and ran down his face. “I am fine, Ahoo-Kolldip. The cut will hea —” A brilliant flash of stark white light lit up the doorway and enveloped the Sim. The floor bucked and jumped under Carson’s feet, as a rolling pressure wave surged through the building and knocked him down. The roar of the explosion hammered at his ears. The noise was deafening. All Carson could do was slap his hands over his ears, tuck his head into his chest and pull himself into a protective ball. When the air cleared and Carson opened his eyes, he saw the entire front wall of the building had been vaporised. Where the Meks had stood guard outside he could see nothing but two smoking hulks of twisted metal. To his left, Kolly lay sprawled over a huge fallen timber. A steel rod pierced the shoulder joint of his Blastex armour. Coombs and the Sims were nowhere in sight. Carson crawled through the debris towards the medic. Kolly’s features were slack and inanimate; his skin tone a little too pale and silvery for comfort. The metal rod had punched right through the meat of his shoulder and, for a moment, Carson thought the Sim was dead; then he caught sight of the life indicator on the side of Kolly’s neck and breathed a sigh of relief. The small twin red diodes blinked with the steady pulse of the Sim’s heartbeat. Carson reached out, intending to wipe the blood from the medic’s face, but stopped as he sensed movement behind him. He turned and peered out through the dust and smoke. Beyond the collapsed outer wall, the air seemed to swirl, as if disturbed by the unseen movement. Whorls of light and shadow flickered like a transmission breakdown on an old style vid and Carson saw shapes begin to appear in the agitated air. It looked as if hidden doorways were being thrown open all around them.
Carson stared; started and began to ease his pistol free of its
holster. He had been issued the gun that morning, although this
was the first time he had thought about the weapon; he only hoped
he could remember how to use it. |