AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (6 page)

12

To say he was enjoying the nutrition shake would be a gross misrepresentation of the truth. So would
even saying that he is tolerating it.

“This color doesn’t exist in nature, Worm,” Ton growls, chokin
g the viscous liquid down. It is colored like a neon flamingo dipped in flaming peach. “Nor does this flavor.”

“If operators could process solid foods correctly then there would not be a need for specifically calibrated nutritional beverages,” Worm replied. “Although, as Sergeant Kim has pointed out, at least operators are required to consume quantities of alcohol on a regular basis in order to maintain proper bacterial culture balance.”

“Have you learned to state the bright side of things, Worm, in order to appease me?” Ton asks, finishing the shake and tossing the glass in the incinerator.

“It is a tactic I have observed humans use with each other,” Worm replies.

“And the results?”

“50% positive, 35% negative, with a 15% mixed response,” Worm says.

“And does that 35% include someone getting punched in the face?” Ton asks. He grabs a bottle of water and pounds it then throws the bottle into the incinerator. Snorts looks at the square in the wall and growls. “Chill, girl.”

“I have observed a violent response to the bright side tactic, yes, Lieutenant,” Worm replies.

“Then you should be glad you don’t have a face I can punch,” Ton replies. He shivers, the shake’s taste still in his mouth despite the water. “What’s my agenda today, Worm? Is there a saline tank available? I could use a long soak.”

“It appears you are scheduled for duty in two hours, sir,” Worm responds. “I do not have details of the mission, but Zebra squad has been specifically requested.”

Ton stands there for a minute, silent.

“Sir?” Worm asks. “Your heart rate has increased significantly. The lack of response to my news has me worried you are suffering some type of episode.”

“Zebra squad is still on leave,” Ton says.

“Yes, that is correct,” Worm replies. “For the next two hours, you and the rest of the squad can do as you please. Then Zebra squad is required to report for preparation procedures.”

“Get me Captain Bryan, please,” Ton orders.

“He was expecting your call, sir,” Worm says as the wall d
isplay lights up.

“
Alton,” Captain Bryan nods, his attention looking off to the side. “I know you are upset by this, but there is nothing to be done. Your squad has been specifically requested.”

“Look me in the eye,
sir,” Ton snaps. “Since when do we honor requests? This is GenSOF, not Happy SynthBurger Spot.”

“Hands are tied, Alt
on,” Captain Bryan replies, nodding at someone off screen then looking directly at Ton. “Comes from Control directly.”

“The bug docs? What do they want with Zebra?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Captain Bryan replies. “But since your squad has made the most runs to Control and back it makes sense they would request you, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir, it-”

“Then I’m unsure where the confusion is,” Captain Bryan continues. “You will be able to tack on the lost leave time to your next rotation.”

“That’s in six months, sir,” Ton says. “You are aware of what this will do to squad morale, right, sir?”

“I do, Alton,” Captain Bryan nods, “which is why you are authorized to give each operator a ten percent credit bump once the mission is completed. I think that is more than generous.”

Ton watches the man on the screen, his eyes searching for clues, trying to figure out what lies behind the lies.

“Is that all, Lieutenant?” Captain Bryan asks. “Because I do have several other squads to deal with.”

“Yes, sir, that is all, sir,” Ton responds. “Thank you for the credit increase, sir.”

“Of course,” Captain Bryan nods then holds up a finger as someone off screen vies for his attention. “Ride safe, Alton. Godspeed.”

“Thank you-” But the vid goes blank before he can finish.

Ton looks about his stark and sterile quarters for something to punch. But there is nothing but gleaming metal.

“Worm?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Lane?”

“Have you ever heard of a squad getting a credit bump before?”

Worm is silent for three seconds. “No, sir, I have not. I accessed all pay records for the last two decades and could not find an instance of a credit raise for any squad other than the mandated increases.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ton sighs. “Not good.”

“I would think a credit increase would be a positive thing,” Worm says.

“How about instead of the bright side you look at the dark side of this scenario,” Ton says. “Process that and give me variables.”

“Without specific mission details it would be hard for me to speculate,” Worm says.

“Do it anyway.”

“Well, sir, a pay increase like this could be due to some hidden hazard,” Worm says. “Perhaps there is more danger to this mission than normal runs to Control.”

“Don’t see why,” Ton responds. “We’ve hit some heavy Cootie action in the Sicklands on plenty of runs to Control
. Never saw a hazard bonus then. Try again.”

“I do not see any post or notice of your increase within the accounting protocols,” Worm says. “This could be because they will not be activated until you return.”

“Or?”

“Or there is no intention of honoring the promised increase,” Worm says.

“That would really punch morale in the face,” Ton says.

“You are fixated on punch in the face metaphors this morning, sir,” Worm states. “I am unsure of the health of that fixation.”

“That’s because you’ve never punched anyone in the face,” Ton says. “When you do, you’ll get it.”

Ton sighs and looks down at Snorts.

“Ready to get back to work, girl? Go kill some Cooties on our way to Control?”

Snorts growls low, her eyes bright with anticipation.

13

“That was not three hours,” Blaze grumbles as the lights come on in his quarters. “Gorge? Was that three hours?”

The dog stands and gives a hard shake then stretches. She
squats on her haunches, raises a hind leg and begins to clean herself.

“What do you know?” Blaze says, fighting through the fog that is his brain. He gets up and sneers down at Gorge as he walks past. “You get to sleep for most of your life anyway.”

“I have prepared your shake, Sergeant,” Worm says. “You will need to sonic and get dressed right away. Your shift begins in less than an hour.”

Blaze stops mid-step. “Not funny.”

“I agree,” Worm replies.

“Then why did you say it?”

Before Worm can respond several vid screens come up. Blaze turns and finds himself looking at the rest of Zebra squad. By the expressions on their faces, they are not pleased either.

“This isn’t a joke,
” Blaze states sadly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“If so it’s a shitty one,” Hoagie snaps. “I have a massage scheduled later.”

“And I haven’t finished my book,” Milo complains. “What the hell, LT?”

“Not my call, people,” Ton says. “You think I want to hit the Sicklands when I could be having a nice, warm soak?”

“Are we short on squads?” Paulo asks. “I swung by command yesterday and thought I only saw twelve on deck for deployment. That leaves plenty to handle this shit.”

“
Our mission is a special case,” Ton says. “Specifically requested by Control.”

“What is the mission?” Milo asks.

“We’re making a run to the dome,” Ton says. “Other than that I have no information. We prep for heavy duty and then hit the transport bay. Further instructions are waiting for us there.”

“Duration?” Paulo asks.

“Your guess, operator,” Ton sighs. “Listen, boys, I’m in the dark here as well. This came down to me from command and it came to them direct from Control. We’ve either impressed the bug docs or we’ve pissed them off.”

“What’s everyone looking at me for?” Blaze asks.

“What did you do, Crouch?” Hoagie grumbles. “Was one of those girls Control? Please tell me you didn’t bang a bug doc and now we have to pay for your lack of sexual prowess.”

“It’s not Sergeant Crouch,” Ton says. “This time. Shit, sonic, and shave then report for preparation procedures. We move out in an hour.”

The images of Blaze’s squad mates blink out one by one until all that is left is the lieutenant.

“I thought you said it wasn’t me,” Blaze says.

“Not officially,” Ton says. “But it is strange that we are called from leave for a special Control op just after you disappear from the system for a day. You sure you don’t want to tell me where you really were?”

Ton’s eyes shift and stare directly at Blaze’s
bare chest and the medallion that rests against it.

“Anything to do with your lucky charm there?”

“No, sir,” Blaze replies quickly, making Ton’s eyebrows raise.

“You’re a shit liar, Sergeant,” Ton frowns. “Once we’re out in the Sicklands I think you and I should have another talk. This time I’ll drop the supportive paternal figure act and you’ll drop the stud operator act.”

“No act here, sir,” Blaze says, holding up the medallion. “Just a good luck charm, LT. That’s all.”

“Save it for the latrine,” Ton says. “Because I ain’t gonna eat that pile of shit.”

The screen blinks out, leaving Blaze holding the medallion, his mind whirling with the implications of the surprise mission.

“Any hint I’ve been busted?” Blaze asks.

“No, Sergeant,” Worm replies. “I have no indication that your off tower excursions have been detected. Your secret is safe.”

Despite Worm being an artificial intelligence housed in his own bank of servers, Blaze can tell he is holding something back.

“Spill it, Worm,” Blaze prompts, letting the medallion fall back against his skin. He turns and frowns at the glass of swirled purple and green liquid waiting for him in his small galley. “You have something to say.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to remove Ms. Cale’s device and leave it behind for this mission,” Worm says.

Blaze thinks on this then slips the medallion up over his head and sets it down on the counter.

“Don’t really need it, do I?” he says. “Not like I can activate it while out on a run.”

“Precisely my thinking, sir,” Worm says.

“And if this is related to my unauthorized leave of the tower then getting caught with it could be a problem,” Blaze continues.

“Yes, sir, very true.”

Blaze downs the drink, strips off his boxers, tosses them and the glass into the incinerator, and activates the sonic. He steps in and lets the simulated feeling of water wash over him while the sonic waves cleanse his skin. His uniform is waiting for him when he steps out.

“Hey, Worm?” Blaze asks, getting dressed. “You’re sure you wiped me from the secfeeds yesterday?”

“I believe I would be offended by that question if I was capable of offense,” Worm says. “Your lack of trust in my abilities is troubling. My main directive is to protect the operators of Zebra squad at all cost. That includes your activities outside the tower, Sergeant.”

“Wasn’t trying to piss you off, man,” Blaze laughs. “Just double checking. Being thorough, ya know?”

“The secfeeds of the incident yesterday have been erased, as well as your TransPod travel,” Worm says. “However, I can do nothing about the possible malfunction of Ms. Cale’s device. That information is stored directly in the mainframe and cannot be accessed by AiSPs. That way if an AiSP somehow malfunctions, its squad will not be left stranded by a data wipe.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blaze sighs as he steps into his boots. “Keep an eye on the brass’ chatter, will ya? I’d appreciate a heads up if you think they are gonna come down on me.”

“Of, course, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm replies. “You still have several minutes before you are required to report for preparation procedure. Would you like me to reserve a treadmill for Canine Unit Gorge?”

The dog gives a quiet huff.

“Sorry, but I want to get down there ASAP and get this shit over with,” Blaze replies. “Sh
e can run on the transport once-”

“All CU’s are required to remain strapped into safety harnesses during the duration of the run, sir,” Worm responds.

“And have any operators ever adhered to that rule, Worm?”

“No, Sergeant, but I am required to state the regulation,” Worm replies. “I am well aware that operators will do as they please once out on a run.”

“Damn straight we will.”

Blaze starts to leave then looks over at the medallion. He walks over, picks it up, and slips it over his head.

“Sergeant Crouch?” Worm starts.

“It’s my good luck charm,” Blaze says. “It’s coming with.”

“Sergeant, good luck is-”

“Shut up, Worm.”