The Biomass Revolution (The Tisaian Chronicles) (31 page)

“I
said, hold your fire. He is on his own. Over.”

A second of static rang out over the channel before
Creo responded. “Understood, sir. Over.”

The
soldier reluctantly took his finger off the trigger and peered into his scope, watching the raiders ride towards Ajax, the brown dust trailing behind them.

“Good luck
, my friend.” Creo said under his breath.

Time
: 8:30 a.m. February 25, 2071.

Location
: Council of Royal Knights Administrative Offices, Capitol Building. Lunia, Tisaia

The burly mail carrier waddled past security and entered the busy atrium of the CRK administrative offices. He navigated through the crowd of staffers and Knights, gripping a message tightly in his pocket, feeling the warmth of the fresh wax seal on his exposed palm.

"Excuse me," he said, sucking in his gut and squeezing through two staffers talking quietly in the middle of the atrium. He was in a hurry and took his job very seriously, making every attempt to deliver his messages on time. The State had entrusted him with a great responsibility, for he carried messages so confidential they weren’t sent through the heavily encrypted electronic system. Messages so important, only carriers who were vetted and passed multiple background checks were even considered for employment.

Not even the beauty of the marble atrium or the ceiling painted and stenc
iled with perfectly symmetrical lines could distract him. He had seen them many times before and had once marveled at the dazzling chandeliers hanging from the rafters, but those times had passed. The office was only another stop on his daily route.

The carrier darted around another staffer and entered the
administrative offices of Commander Augustus. Like the grand atrium, these offices were carved from marble and had magnificent chandeliers. The room was furnished with mahogany desks and a large table equipped with an AI hub.

A petite female staffer led the ca
rrier through the maze of desks; Knights in civilian clothes were fingering their blue screens and talking on wrist radios. The office was always busy and was staffed 24 hours a day.

The long, sparsely lit hallway came into view as the carrier made his way past the last desk. He had never been back this far, but the urgency of his note allowed him to take it straight to Commander Augustus’ sentry guards.

He rounded the corner, the staff
er parting ways with a small nod when the Knights came into focus. They towered above the small burly carrier.

"State your business," the Knight closest to him said.

The carrier reached nervously into his pocket for the note which he had hid deep in the bowels of his coat. Finally he retrieved it and, with a shaking hand, gave it to the Knight.

The Knight spun, his armor creaking. The carrier watched him stride down the hallway lined with statues of fallen Knights. He stood on his tip toes to see over the other guard’s armor, hoping to make out the faces of the famed statues. It was the one marvel he had heard of but had never seen.

The guard rotated his head; his glowing blue goggles peered down on the carrier, who took a step back, frowning. "Is there something else you need?" the guard asked.

"No, no.
I just wanted to make sure the letter got to Commander Augustus," he said, stuttering.

"I can assure you, it will," the Knight replied, rotating his helmet once again.

The carrier frowned,
frustrated by the Knights continued lack of courtesy. He headed back towards the offices just before Commander Augustus opened his office door and grabbed the note out of the Knight’s hand, quickly retreating.

With a sigh, he took a seat. He tore into the letter and removed the handwritten note, dropping the envelope on his spotless oak desk.

Commander Augustus,

Last night we dispatched a squad of Knights into Rohania to capture a SGS worker named Spurious Timur. Our contact gave us reason to believe his parents helped found the TDU.

Unfortunately, the squad was ambushed, leaving no survivors. Spurious escaped and our contact was killed in the crossfire. We believe the attack was orchestrated by the TDU
and have found evidence of armor-piercing rounds used only by TDU soldiers.

We have several patrols combing Rohania for the perpetrators of this attack and
I’ll keep you updated with any new information my office receives in the coming hours.

In Honor,

Supreme Knight Morr

Commander Augustus set the message down on his desk softly, and leaned back in his chair to catch his first view of the Battle of Thermopylae for the day. He had the painting from his personal office replicated and hung on the wall of his offices at both the CRK headquarters and the administrative offices.

He stared at the image of the few hundred Spartans battling
an army of thousands of Persian warriors. For the longest time Augustus had believed the citizens he was trying to protect were like those several hundred Spartans, strong, loyal and selfless. But it was when he received messages like this, he began to question if this was delusional.

State employees had
everything they needed: clothing, housing, food, and relative safety. If they wanted to find a wife or husband, they could simply apply for one, and receive someone that matched them perfectly. So why did they continue to try and escape?

This was not the first time Augustus had seen a note like this, and it wouldn
’t be the last. And as he had in the past, he would forget this traitor. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed in into the fireplace, watching it burn slowly in the flames.

Time
: 10:01 a.m. February 26, 2071.

Location
: Nuke Valley. The Wastelands

Creo sucked in a lung full of air and held it, wrapping his hand around the end of the rifle and crawling to the edge of the boulder. The cold wind of the morning bit into his jacket, but he did not flinch. He placed his eye against the scope and glassed the valley below, searching for Ajax. The ash and dust swirled violently over the cracked red earth, blurring his vision.

He
sniffled, lowering the scope and pulling the bandana down from his face, wiping a cold strand of snot from his nose. Then he brought the familiar scope back to his eye, squinting to survey the valley again.

The scope revealed
familiar sights: sun bleached bones, rebar protruding out of cracked concrete, and the scattered segments of road in places the wind had not covered the blacktop with dust, but he had lost sight of Ajax.

He maneuvered to his left
to get a better view. The scope brought the lead raider into focus. Creo zoomed in further, magnifying the man in the cross hairs. An ugly tusk like bone hung off his helmet. His naked chest was decorated with bones splintered and broken, only barely covering a scar running the length of his torso. He was a bulky man, dwarfing the other raiders with his thick frame.

Creo
took another deep breath and felt the hard metal of the trigger, massaging it with his well trained fingers, wanting desperately to take the shot. It was the type of shot snipers hoped they never had to make—out of viable range, with an unpredictable wind and limited visibility. He wasn’t even sure he could make it if Obi ordered him to do so.

He rotated the rifle back to the right, glassing the valley again for Ajax.
He tilted the barrel up slowly, combing the last stretch of blacktop where he had seen him. His crosshairs came to a stop on the concrete foundation of an old house, rebar extending out in all directions like branches from a dead tree. He zoomed in some more, magnifying the foundation, so he could see the cracks crawling up what was left of the small wall. And there he was, resting his back against the inside wall, peering out every minute or so at the approaching raiders.

“Thank G
od, he
has
seen them,” Creo muttered over the wind, pleased Ajax had sensed the danger following him.

Creo
rotated the rifle again, taking in a breath and lining the cross hairs up with the raiders. They were on the black top now, about one hundred yards from the foundation, quickly closing in.

“Shit, he
’s a sitting duck.” Creo said, lining the cross hairs back up with the pack of raiders. He gripped the rifle harder and wiped his exposed nose with his elbow.

He watched helplessly as the raiders barreled down on Ajax’s location. The dust from their horses swirled behind them, mixing a collage of red and black ash into the air like a trail of dark
blood. A howling wind was beginning to pick up, clouding his view of the raiders honing in on Ajax. Through the wind he could hear something else. His ears strained to hear it, but the wind was too loud. He hustled further out on the ledge, trying to get a better view of Obi’s position, stumbling over the rock and climbing quickly to a new position.

The noise broke through the wind again, a buzzing sound. He paused, clawing at the sharp rock, making his way higher. The sound was familiar, something he recognized. A sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the very hum.

“Scorpions,” he cried, stumbling over the rocky surface again, making his way up higher into the rock formation for a better view.

He knelt down and brought the scope to his eye again. Sure enough, a trio of Scorpions
came out of the west, racing over the hard cold ground. They tore onto the blacktop, a thick cloud of dust exploding from behind their oversized tires.

The raiders weren’t after Ajax. T
hey were trying to escape into Nuke Valley.

He paused
, listening to the scream of their mini guns erupt over the wind, before kneeling to watch the slaughter. The riders were quickly cut down, the CRK bullets tearing through the men and their horses, sending chunks of flesh and body parts into the air. Within seconds all of the raiders except the leader were dead. Somehow he managed to dismount his horse. He stumbled towards the foundation where Ajax was hiding, a thick trail of blood flowing from his wounds.

The trio of Scorpions surrounded the man, smoke crawling out of their silent barrels.
Creo watched him totter back and forth before finally collapsing onto the dusty earth next to the concrete wall.

The Knights must want him alive
.

Minutes passed and the man lay in the dirt
, motionless. One of the Scorpion doors opened and a Knight stepped out into the dusty wind, pointing his rifle at the fallen raider. He walked towards the man cautiously.

Creo
watched through his scope, blinking just in time to see the raider jump to his feet and face the Knight.

“What the
…” Creo whispered under his breath. 

The
raider stagger backwards, reaching for a pistol tucked in the back of his pants. A shot rang out over the wind, loud enough for Creo to hear it faintly.

The raider fired again, and again, watching the bullets ricochet of the Knight
’s thick armor. Before long the pistol was empty and the raider fell to his knees, reaching in his pockets for more bullets. The Knight approached him cautiously, his rifle pointed down at the man’s face.

A blast of wind hit
Creo, startling him. By the time he turned back, the Knight was firing on the raider. The bullets tore through his soft flesh and bone, splattering the wall where Ajax hid with bright blood.

The raider crawled across the dirt, clawing towards the Knight. For several seconds
the Knight stood there, watching until the man reached his armored foot. Just when the raider made a harmless swipe, the Knight unloaded his weapon on the man until he was nothing but chunks of red meat, splattered across the dead earth.

Creo
turned. He couldn’t watch the slaughter any longer. Not even a raider deserved to be desecrated.

Finally he took a long deep breath,
watching the Knight climb back into his Scorpion. The trio peeled off the red cracked dirt and tore on to the blacktop, zipping away from Ajaxs’ location.

Creo dropped the scope and rested his back against a sharp rock in relief, swiping beads of sweat off his forehead.
For now the danger was over, but Ajax still had a long way to go through the radioactive valley.

Time
: 4:11 p.m. February 26, 2071.

Location
: Abandoned Spillway. The Wastelands

Squad 19 stood at the edge of a dam, where a dirt path met the weathered gray concrete, dwarfed by the gigantic beast. Their shadows followed them down to the ledge. Obi listened to a small trickle of water spilling over the edge, a fraction of what once poured into the long since dried up lake below.

Overhead
, the sun had taken refuge behind a dark gray cloud. What warmth the sun offered was now gone and the winter wind cut into his garments like frozen knives.