Gears of war, p.25
Gears of War, page 25
Anya arched an eyebrow. “You don’t see Jamila as a maker?”
“Yes, yes, she is one, but a very special one. She believes that the world should be shaped to maximize the potential of all people. This would lead to a great deal of wasted effort and squandered resources, because while most people have great potential, the vast majority of them haven’t the resolve or discipline to realize that potential. Look at Nathan Junior. His father was a maker on a grand scale, and Junior thinks he’s one as well because he inherited the business when a Locust bit his father’s head off. The truth is, Senior saw him for the taker that he is, and never trusted him with the business. Thus Junior’s drive is not to make the business thrive, but to outdo his father—this being an impossibility with the ruined world we have inherited.”
Anya replaced the poker in the rack.
“What is your vision for the world?”
“We need order and organization—two things at which, by the way, you are splendid. I would expand upon your ideas, frankly. I see us building viable settlements, each surrounding resources and production facilities, in which we provide schooling, housing, and medical care—in return for labor. We create multiple styles of these settlements. As people excel, they are promoted to a new settlement which is better for them and their children—once, of course, they are licensed to have children. Unregulated reproduction will create a multitude of problems, not only with the food supply, but with everything society will provide.”
“You wouldn’t allow people to have their own land. Marcus and I would have to move off the estate?”
He turned toward her, his eyes bright. “No, my dear, precisely the opposite. You and Marcus, Jamila and her family, you have all earned preferential treatment. The settlements would be for the takers, and they would be well cared for. And for the makers, great privilege—perhaps a return to the glory of yore, if not something which surpasses it. Makers have to be the example, and through the settlement system, we identify the talented. We cultivate them and give them opportunities their families never could. In doing this we fast-track humanity’s recovery. Children of makers can be sent to the settlements to administer them, giving them incalculable experience because, as the population grows, so will the need for more settlements. We will colonize our own world and in a century or two will have gone beyond any point we could imagine at this time.”
“I see.”
“I trust you see the practicality of it. It is really a military system into which everyone is drafted. The takers will forever be the enlisted people, and the makers become the officer corps. Without that sort of discipline, humanity will fracture and, if we do ever recover, it will be by dint of luck and through centuries of wasted time.”
Anya frowned. “People will resist being incorporated into the system. Not everyone wants to be drafted.”
“We will convince them it is for the common good, because, in the long run, it is.”
“That sounds, Minister Hasterwith, perilously close to suggesting that the ends justify the means.”
“Desperate times demand desperate measures.” The man brought his hands together at his waist.
The cold tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “I look forward to seeing a formal proposal of your plan.”
“I doubt we have time to debate it, quite frankly. We may survive this winter, provided it is mild, but we will need to take steps to organize immediately come spring, or we may not survive until next winter.”
As much as Hasterwith’s plan to save humanity made Anya uneasy, his vision of a famine killing off great swaths of people made her more so. “What is it you want from me? Do you want me to tell the other ministers I have no interest in being first minister? I have told them that.”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“I had hoped that your refusing the position would be enough, but things are moving too swiftly. They want you, and they believe Jamila saw you as her heir apparent. We have to completely disabuse them of such notions.” The man held up an index finger. “What I am going to require from you is an endorsement for my candidacy—and tomorrow won’t be too soon to begin letting them know.”
“That’s fast.” She blinked. “We’re not voting for another three days.”
“The groundwork must be laid, prior to your announcement—which ought to come as a formal endorsement for my candidacy in a Council meeting. Circumstances do not favor wasting time.”
“You’re afraid someone is going to pressure you to step aside, the way they did Jamila.”
“I would be a fool to suggest otherwise.”
Anya arched an eyebrow. “How many skeletons are there in your closet?”
“A very few, and the last of them will be buried very soon.” Hasterwith laughed. “I am, in reality, quite untouchable. But the important thing for you to consider, Minister, is that I treat my friends and allies very well, and my enemies always pay dearly for disappointing me. I don’t mean for that to sound like a threat. You already know I am right. The future of our species hangs in the balance.”
Anya sighed. “I can’t say that you’re wrong.”
“Very good. Before the Council of Ministers meets again, I will send over a draft of the text of your endorsement. A courtesy, you understand. Mankind has been leaderless for too long. I will guarantee our survival.” Hasterwith bowed his head to her. “Thank you for your time.”
He turned and departed, leaving Anya alone with the fire’s angry crackling. She stared after him and found her hands balled into fists. Forcing them open, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. As she replayed the conversation in her mind she found the point where Hasterwith had switched strategies.
If I had been enthusiastic in agreeing with his vision of makers and takers, he would have enlisted me as a co-conspirator. When I balked, he tried to apply pressure, but not wholeheartedly. It struck her that he sounded more confident when he said he’d guarantee mankind’s survival. How does he intend to make it work?
“Something is wrong, very wrong.” Anya went to recover her glass of wine but stopped and, instead, made another decision.
“Please, by all that is just, don’t let me be wrong.”
10: IRON HILLS RIPARIAN PRESERVE
IRON HILLS, SERA
12 FROST 18 A.E.
“Marcus, just listen.” Anya’s voice poured into his ear with urgency, but he didn’t hear fear. “Hasterwith came to the estate. He wants my endorsement for him to become first minister. He has a crazy plan to gather people into settlements and regulate their lives. He’s confident he can do all this.”
“He can.” Marcus’ hand stroked his beard. “He’s got it all figured out.”
“What?”
“We know how he can get folks into settlements. People are training grubs, and he has a proof of concept for one of his villages.”
“Can you prove that? In two days?” The line fell silent for a moment. “He’s angling for the office. He wants me to endorse him. If I do, he’ll become first minister. Once he has that power, he’ll put his plan into action.”
“You need proof, we will get you proof.” Acid burbled up into his throat. “First, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Marcus.”
“Good. Be careful. Chances are we’re going to make Hasterwith really angry.” Marcus softened his voice. “We won’t let you down.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“Me, too.” Marcus set the receiver down and looked at his assembled team at the campsite. “Okay, listen up. What we saw down there, that’s Hasterwith’s plan for humanity—happy little Seradyne villages everywhere. It’ll be the Watson farm, killing parents, and harvesting children all over again.”
“We can’t tip them off.” Sam’s eyes hardened. “The man who could approve this sort of experimenting is going to cover his tracks. He’ll move his assets, and this place will vanish.”
“Exactly, so we have to go now.” Marcus nodded. “Brandon, you’re getting Karima out of here.”
Karima Razek shook her head. “I can read between the lines, Marcus. Three minutes ago, five Gears weren’t enough for you to rescue those people. I won’t speak for Brandon, but I’m willing to fight to free them.”
“Count me in on that, too.”
Marcus’ left hand curled into a fist. “I’m not doubting your courage, and I’d welcome the extra guns, but I need the two of you to head north. You’ll take the sat phone, and when things start blowing up, you’re calling Cole’s helicopter pilot to fly you to Westbrook. Brandon, you’ll get your Raven pilot to get to Westbrook as fast as he can and take the two of you direct to Ephyra. Tell Anya everything you know. On his return trip, Cole’s pilot will come south and look for us. He’ll grab evidence, and head to Ephyra to back you up with something solid.”
Brandon folded his arms over his chest. “What if there’s no evidence for him to pick up?”
You mean what if we all die? “Everything we’ve learned on this journey should convince people that Hasterwith is corrupt. You two will have to make that clear.”
Karima’s eyes became slits. “If we fail, if you fail, the slaughter of innocents will be frightful.”
“That’s why we focus this operation.” Marcus returned to the stone map. “Sam, you and Carmine are going to set up here, on the near side of the river. Anyone trying to get into the settlement will have to go through you. Any guards walking the perimeter are your responsibility—and the grub they’ve got with them.”
“Close-up work. Got it.” Clay nodded. “And we’re set up to pour enfilade fire on any soldiers coming out of the barracks.”
“Right.” Marcus looked up at Cole and Damon. “The three of us head to the lab. We kill anyone or anything we find protecting the grubs, pull computer memory and any other hard evidence, then wire it all to blow. Alarms are going to pull people from the barracks, so we neutralize them. We hold on until morning when Cole’s helo comes back for us. Clear?”
Baird grunted. “I guess I’ll need to wire up more charges.”
Cole laughed. “As many as you can, man. I’ll carry all the ones you can’t.”
As the Gears set to work, Marcus walked over to where Karima and Brandon were gathering up their kit. “You have to get clear. Your testimony is what’s going to stop Hasterwith.”
“You do know what you’re doing here, right?” Brandon tightened a strap down on his rucksack and stood. “Suicide. There’s no way you will survive.”
Marcus rested both hands on Brandon’s shoulders. “When we were at Mercy and I saw Dom’s COG tag on the Flores family tomb, I realized then, he knew he wasn’t making it out. I also knew he was at peace with that decision, because others lived. I couldn’t see it, back when he died, but now I can feel it.”
Brandon met his stare. “If you give me your COG tag to carry out of here—if you even try to do it—I’ll deck you.”
I bet you would. Marcus gave the man’s shoulders a firm squeeze. “Our mission is to kill the grubs, save the people, gather evidence, and eliminate anyone getting in our way. Our dying isn’t on the list. We’re Delta Squad. All the Locust in the world couldn’t kill us; Seradyne rent-a-grunts aren’t going to do it either.”
Karima shook her head. “If ego was armor…”
“No dying, Marcus.” Brandon poked Marcus in the chest with a finger. “You owe Nick his sister.”
“Right.” Marcus brandished the lucky stone Nick had given him. “I won’t disappoint him. See you both on the outside.” Tucking the stone back in his pocket, Marcus turned and slung his Lancer over his shoulder.
“Let’s move it, Delta. Leave the stuff we won’t use and hurry up. Those grubs aren’t going to kill themselves.”
“When they see us coming, Marcus, they’ll wish they had.” Cole’s laughter filled their temporary home. “We’ll just help them do it faster, baby.”
Delta Squad moved out quickly, with Sam leading the way and Marcus bringing up the rear. They made good time through the darkness, but as they approached the mine, things weren’t right.
It’s too bright. Marcus squeezed past his teammates and joined Sam at the overlook.
What in the…?
The guards had cleared out a large area around the mine entrances, and set flares at the corners of a large square. They’d also set up some spotlights and used them to illuminate the square. That has to be an LZ for a Raven. Other guards struggled to open one of the large doors to the third mine, and workers waited patiently, wearing mechanical loader exoskeletons. Thank God those aren’t Silverbacks.
A skinny, balding, civilian-looking guy barked orders at the guards being pressed into duty opening the mine. Other soldiers ran around laying charges and stringing wire on the barracks and administration buildings. Two of them grabbed a heavy box and two long spools of wire, and started crossing over the river to where they could set charges on the tiny houses.
Not a grub in sight. That’s good news, though all those explosives are not.
Not a single resident opened a door or peered out a window in curiosity or to protest.
Sam looked at Marcus. “They’re destroying all the evidence.”
“That’s a plan that won’t survive contact with the enemy. As we discussed, but your first shots better drop those guys carrying the explosives.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Marcus hustled six yards back down the trail. “They’re sanitizing the place, so we have to move. Carmine, you’re with Sam, same as before. Baird, they’re setting up an LZ, so shoot out the lights. Cole, you and me, we hit the open mine. Baird, you’re with us once you’ve taken the spotlights out. Comms on Tac-seven.”
Cole peeked around him. “We’re sprinting across that river in bright light when the shooting starts?”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, brother.” Cole pounded a fist on Marcus’ shoulder. “Just try to keep up.”
“This will be nasty, people.” Marcus unslung his Lancer. “We’ll be nastier.”
Marcus worked his way forward and felt Cole crouched behind him. Marcus keyed the comms earpiece.
“Baird, you’re up now. Hit it.”
Time dropped to an absolute crawl as Marcus sprinted toward the river. To his left the pair of soldiers hauling explosives to level the tiny houses stopped. They released the chest, but before it could fall to the water, the man on the left jerked and his head snapped back. He got perhaps a half-step further on before his leg went boneless. His body splashed down, and the chest beside him. The second man jackknifed forward, then flew backward a half-dozen feet. As he hit the water, one spotlight went dark amid a shower of sparks.
Cole passed Marcus on the right, firing his Lancer from the hip. He blazed away, and spent, smoking cartridges hissed as they hit the water. Sparks flew from the mechanical loaders. One sagged to the side and the second just froze in place.
A couple of men working to open the mine stopped and unslung their Lancers. A line of bullets traced their way across the shoreline and then through the water in evenly spaced geysers. Then two of the bullets tagged Marcus’ left flank, one just below his ribs and the other at his shoulder. He heard them more than he felt them. The armor held but the impact spun him around. His feet got all twisted up. He crashed down as bullets whizzed overhead. The freezing water splashed over his face and arms, so cold it felt like fire.
Gotta move before they track me. Marcus lunged up and dove to the left. The second spotlight exploded in a shower of sparks. Darkness descended and Marcus cut back right, splashing his way in Cole’s wake.
Cole’s fire swept over the trio of men at the lab door. One clutched at his thigh, bright arterial blood pulsing out between his fingers. Another mercenary tried to dive out of harm’s way, but a bullet caught him in the hip. Spinning in directions he never intended, he landed hard and rolled up limp against the downed loader. The third man tried to correct his aim to hit Cole, but one of Cole’s bullets hit his Lancer’s receiver. The projectile fragmented. Lethal splinters ricocheted, shredding the man’s face. He dropped on his back, an oozing eye dangling from the optic nerve.
Time returned to normal as Marcus hit the shore.
Dripping wet, he raced after Cole and caught him beside the mine door. Cole glanced over at Marcus, then peeled around the door and in. Marcus crossed over, advancing to Cole’s right through the mine’s rough-hewn entrance tunnel.
Ten yards further along the Seradyne researchers had created a lab in a truncated mine gallery. Translucent wall panels let light bleed in from the lab to the tunnel, which is why Marcus caught sight of two soldiers bolting from the lab. He snapped off a shot that blew through one guard’s throat, then shattered the panel behind him. Cole’s fire stitched the second soldier from navel to sternum and he crashed back through the lab doors.
The two men raced to the lab and yanked the doors open. Three researchers, all in lab coats, stared at them, ashen-faced. One, a tall woman raised her hands. The other two—older men, glanced around as if looking for weapons. Both turned their gazes to the lab’s back wall.
Marcus keyed the radio. “Baird, here, now!”
The lab contrasted sharply with the tunnel. They’d built out the walls and added a ceiling, as well as a floor, creating a fairly clean enclosure. The front end of the chamber contained desks and computers, but nothing that personalized the workspace at all. Over on the far side stood a glass-walled operating theatre. In the middle lay benches with beakers, glass tubing, bubbling flasks, and long distillation coils. Marcus wasn’t certain exactly what he was looking at, but it reminded him strongly of the lab his father had used to conduct his research into the Imulsion Countermeasure.
Cole shifted around to cover the researchers. “On your knees, or you won’t have them for long.”
“But we’re non-combatants.”
