The Biomass Revolution (The Tisaian Chronicles) (16 page)

The TDU was no place for someone with a weak stomach. There was no room for hesitation when lives were on the line. It wasn’t the lifestyle most children grew up fantasizing about.

Ran wasn’t a natural soldier. A job as medical technician or aid worker would have fit him better, but as fate would have it he ended up fighting with the rebels. His reputation as a softy wasn’t derived just from his empathetic nature either. It was his appearance that really gave him the most grief.
He was only a little over five feet tall, so small he didn’t fit into standard TDU fatigues. This resulted in a constant barrage of jokes by Nordica and others about his boyish appearance.

Nordica
, on the other hand, had the frame of a soldier. She was just over six feet tall with a solid build rivaled only by Ajax. Her most identifying feature, however, was the dreadlocks that ran halfway down her back. The spent bullet shells she rolled into her locks were a bit much if you asked Ran, but he never dared mention them. Besides, on missions Nordica would take them out.  

The
truck barreled further away from Lunia, Ran watching as the faint lights of the State buildings disappeared in the rearview mirror. It was a lonely feeling, heading away from civilization, into the sprawl of shanty towns and rubble that had never been repaired after the Biomass Wars. The stretch of road between Lunia and Rohania was known by the TDU as the Pirate Highway due to all the robberies in the past. The Knights never patrolled the blacktop, and the State rarely sent work crews out to fix the potholes.

The truck
’s axles screamed in protest as they ran over a pot hole. Nordica swerved to the right to avoid another one, but over-corrected, causing the truck to slide on the icy surface. “Watch out!” Ran screamed as they fishtailed helplessly towards a concrete barrier. 

Nordica slammed on the breaks and down shifted just in time to avoid it, the truck creeping to a stop.  “Shit!”
she screamed, pounding the steering wheel.

Ran slowly loosened his tight grip on the armrests, his eyes
fixated on a collapsed building at the edge of the road. “That was close.”

“Too close,” Nordica replied, holding down the clutch while turning the key to start the engine again. The machine coughed and groaned in retaliation. “Come on!” Nordica yelled, h
er fist coming down on the steering wheel again.

After several tries
, the engine blared back to life. Nordica backed the truck up and continued on down the blacktop, cautious not to exceed a safe speed. The two soldiers spent the rest of the journey in silence, staring ahead at the dark road.

Time
: 1:30 a.m. February 4, 2071

Location
: Tunnels. Tisaia

Nordica trained her headlamp on Ran, the light illuminating his distraught eyes. “God, you’re such a sucker, man; that guy was no better than a Tin Can. For all we know, he works by day as one of those metal machines.”

Ran kept silent,
not wanting to relive the same conversation. He realized long ago he would never win an argument with Nordica. He could only hope the food would somehow make up for the man’s death.

“We
’re almost there. Keep sharp,” Nordica said, shooting a nervous look back at Ran.

“HQ should be a few tunnels ahead,” Ran responded,
pulling one of the bags loose from a rock it was caught on.

“Why wouldn’t
Obi send us any men to help us drag this food to HQ?” Ran asked.

“
Now you are questioning Obi? I’m sure he had a good reason for not sending us help. Besides, you need the exercise. Maybe it will help you grow a bit,” Nordica said, grinning.

“Very
funny. One of these mornings, you’re going to wake up bald, you know that?”

“Try it. Just try it. I
’ll make sure you end up more than bald.”

A hint of a smile crawled across Ran’s face as they continued in the darkness, but the fo
ul scent of sewage quickly erased it from his mouth. 

“There
it is,” Nordica said, dropping her sack of food and pointing at a small burning candle marking the HQs entrance. “Now be quiet. We don’t want to get shot.”

Ran dropped the sacks of food carefully on the ground and followed Nordica through the darkness towards the small candle
. “Do you remember the password?” Ran asked nervously.

“Of course I remember the
damn password,” Nordica shouted.

“
Shit, woman! Keep your voice low,” Ran whispered.

Nordica nodded and approached the wall, reaching out and knocking on it four times
before standing back, stepping on Ran’s foot. The pain prompted the small soldier to scowl. “Watch it,” Ran whispered in protest.

The odd pair stood there
waiting patiently for a response. Moments later, the concrete wall creaked and opened. The sweet face of Juliana, a TDU staffer, poked out. “Evening, do you need some help with those bags?” she asked cheerfully, her smile extending from cheek to cheek.

“Hell yeah
, beautiful, we could use some help,” Nordica responded with a smirk. Juliana rolled her eyes before shooting a quick glance down the tunnels to ensure they hadn’t been followed.

Inside
, the headquarters was busy with movement. TDU staffers rushed about, some stopping to gawk at the sacks of food the trio were carrying. Others ignored them, their important tasks far outweighing their growling stomachs. 

Nordica and Ran headed to the pantry
, where Eddia, the main cook, was anxiously awaiting his new shipment of food. He was going to prepare a feast for everyone at HQ. Even the night shift staffers would have a plate waiting for them after their shifts were over.

They
turned down a hallway leading to the cellar and were immediately greeted by the overweight cook. The thick man pinched his index finger and thumb together. “Ah, now, this is a something I can work with!” he shouted happily, his large belly jiggling over an aging belt that looked as if it could snap at any minute.

Ran tried to hold back a laugh, but a smile broke across his face as he dropped his sacks on the floor.
No one knew where Eddia was from, but his broken English implied he was from somewhere in Eastern Europe. His passion, apparent by his round figure, was food. It was no secret he was the best fed in the TDU, more than likely due to sneaking bites of ingredients while he prepared meals. But it was a fair trade, and most of the men didn’t mention it, happy to have decent meals when they were available.

Ran grimaced as the aroma of garlic entered his
nostrils,
resulting in a deep groan from the pit of his stomach. Hunger was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, much like the other soldiers in the TDU. In fact, most of the rebellion lacked proper nutrition, and some of the lower ranks were on the verge of starvation.

“We
got your food, fatty. The biggest load yet,” Nordica joked. Eddia glanced at her, frowning.

“I told you,
don’t call me that!” he yelled, quickly forgetting the insult as he rummaged through the contents of the bags. “You got fresh beef and lamb,” he smiled, pulling out two slabs of meat. “And you got onions!” he yelled gleefully, juggling two of them.

Juliana giggled,
she had always been entertained by Eddia. Nordica, however wasn’t amused, and grunted as she turned to walk out of the pantry. “I’m going to get some shut eye,” she said, her voice trailing off up the stairs.

“I suppose I should do the
same,” Ran said, following his comrade.

“Well,”
Juliana paused. “Welcome back, and don’t forget about the staff meeting at 10 tonight. You two are expected to be there.”

“We
’ll be there,” Ran chirped, as he ran to catch up with Nordica.

Time
: 5:30 p.m. February 5, 2071

Location
: TDU HQ Sick Bay, Tunnels. Tisaia

Obi lay in a white bed, staring at the cold concrete walls around him, trying to shut the images of violence out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the screams of civilians in Trolley Station #14 and saw the horrified faces as he and his men descended upon the lone Royal Knight. No matter what he did he just couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open. He was too exhausted. His last two missions had drained him, physically and emotionally.

Luck had on
ce again been on his side, and for the moment he was beginning to believe he had a streak going. The small caliber bullet wound to his shoulder was the cleanest wound the TDU’s doctor had ever seen. Miraculously there was no shrapnel, and the bullet had passed clean through. Once the injury healed he would have full range of motion.

He had survived
the unthinkable, but the images of the innocent civilians who had not would be with him the rest of his life. His men had declared the assaults victories, even though the trolley exploded before it hit the CRK headquarters. Obi knew this was just hollow rhetoric, and in reality, the TDU was still losing the war. They would never be able to fight the CRK on an open battlefield; the TDU simply did not have the weapons or the manpower.

And it wasn’t the only battle the TDU was losing. Their guerilla warfare tactics were constantly driving potential Tisaian sympathizers away from their cause.

He knew it would be difficult to win over the hearts and minds of the civilians in Tisaia, but even through the bloodshed and killing, many citizens had joined the ranks of the TDU. It was the platform, the principles of the TDU, which attracted a loyal following. Most people in Tisaia thought the State should share the Biomass and help other nations around the world. That was what rallied them to the TDU’s cause.

A deep thirst distracted Obi from his
reflections, and his eyes began to scan the dark room. They finally stopped on the table by his bed and fixated on a tall glass of water, just out of reach. He licked his dry lips and tried to swallow, but his throat was too parched.

Instead
, he rubbed his eyes. The door to the room opened and his nurse entered, holding a tray of food and medicine. Obi had seen her around HQ before, but never actually spoken with her. She was close to his age, perhaps a few years older with graying hair and a striking set of brown eyes.

He almost cringed
at the sight of her gaunt frame. She was more than likely suffering from malnutrition like many of the other women making up the ranks of the TDU. It was a bad sign, and he didn’t recall her being so emaciated the last time he saw her, which meant food levels were dangerously low.

“Obi, you’re not supposed to be up right now,” she
said, smiling.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Here,” she said, holding out a small cup of pills and the glass of water, “this will help you sleep. Take them all and you should be able to rest within minutes.”

“You read my mind,” he
said, returning her smile and snatching the glass of water from her hands. He gulped it down, before peering back at the cup of medicine. Pills made him nervous. He preferred to heal naturally.

“Well
, go on,” she said. Her brown eyes were persuasive, and besides, he decided he wasn’t in any shape to argue. He gulped down the pills and collapsed back on his thin pillow.

Obi watched her walk
over to the door and turn off the lights. “Yell for me if you need anything else,” she said, before disappearing into the hallway.

Obi looked around the dark room again
, dizziness beginning to set in. He closed his eyes, and surprisingly, the images he couldn’t shake earlier were gone. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Time
: 10:00 p.m. February 5, 2071

Location
: TDU HQ, War Room. Lunia, Tisaia

“In the past 72 hours, Obi and his men have successfully taken out a squad of Scorpions and an entire trolley station within Lunia. I think we all should congratulate Squad 19 on this fine and much needed victory!” Commander Heri shouted. A crowd of TDU staffers were huddled in the small war room. A small wave of clapping quickly followed the words of the commander, but died down faster than it had started.

Obi winced
as he sat. He knew morale amongst his comrades was low, but the response made it even clearer.  The room was filled with veterans of a war that had been going on for over 10 years. The TDU was created after Tisaia had emerged from the aftermath of the Biomass Wars. Now, ten years later, some of the very same people who created the TDU sat in old broken chairs, listening to a new Commander talk of victory.

The bald commander continued, brushing his shiny scalp
with one of his hands. “In the next few months, we’ll continue to try and penetrate the CRK’s headquarters. If we can destroy it, the Knights will be left in disarray. This will be the perfect opportunity for the Tisaian people to rise against the State,” the Commander said, another wave of clapping following suit.