Drake swallows and nods. “I think I’m starting to really understand you.”
Rennin arches an eyebrow, “You mean there’s more to me than meets the eye?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Optimus,” says Mia before striking Rennin hard across the face, making him reel back in surprise.
“I thought we were past that,” he says, attempting to dislodge the stars from his vision.
“You may have Thermosteel bones, but your brain shakes in that skull just fine,” she smirks, shaking her hand to soothe the ache. “You killed three of my friends. While I may sympathise with your reasons, you don’t get to call them pieces of shit in my presence.”
“Noted.”
Dead Star is fully loaded and refuelled by the time Rennin, Mia and Drake climb aboard. Del is busying himself preparing his Sunbreaker. Rennin swears that Del is taking the Suvaco emergence as a personal insult. Caufmann admitted to him earlier that Del was specifically designed to battle androids. Rennin believes that he’s going to get his chance to try.
He sits down in the pilot’s chair, with Caufmann for co-pilot. Stealing a sideward glance, he realises that the Doctor is wearing his black lab gear but his coat looks heavier somehow.
“What the hell is that made of? The latest in frontline scientific spandex?” Rennin asks, initiating lift off.
Caufmann is typing on his gauntlet but answers just the same. “This clothing is armour-weave mark twenty-one. Your oversized, inefficient, military armour plating is mark five. This lab coat can stop a tank shell. I don’t want to take any chances since the fight with Isfeohrad nearly left me immolated.”
“Designed yourself?”
“Of course,” says the doctor.
“Got a spare for me?”
“You’re not strong enough to wear my clothes.”
Rennin banks Dead Star left. “Alright, setting in for Currajong District.”
“Negative. That will have to wait. We have an immediate Suvaco engagement,” says Caufmann.
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“The Suvaco unit is attacking Corporal Verge’s position near to the strike zone bordering on Simulacrum, Brighthelm and Blackhaven Districts,” says Caufmann.
“Corporal Verge? Not a captain or commander? Or even a lieutenant?”
“Corporal Verge is the highest ranked survivor.”
“How hard did that Suvaco hit them?”
“There is an immense amount of contaminant activity in that area yet there’s a central point in Blackhaven where there is no activity at all. This is not a coincidence, Rennin. Something important is happening in Blackhaven. It should be swarming with contaminants, but it isn’t. Horizon Military have Desolator 1 almost in position but a blockbuster strike isn’t going to cut it.”
“Why?”
“There’s nothing on the surface. It would appear they’re coordinating. Though the intelligence level is dropping sharply, just like I predicted.”
Rennin isn’t sure where Caufmann’s going with this. “What are you thinking?”
“Blackhaven should be inundated with masses of contaminants given their numbers in the surrounding areas, but the zone is curiously empty. They’re losing their cognitive functions, though this evidence would indicate that they’re being directed,” says Caufmann.
“By what?”
Caufmann ignores him. “The infected become obedient at the expense of their intellect; think of it as degenerative atelomorphosis,” the doctor says.
“Atelo-what?”
Caufmann ignores him. “And the further their sentience deteriorates the more obedient they become.”
“And they will continue deteriorating?”
Caufmann nods, “At an accelerated rate.”
“And that’s expected?”
“Controlling an intelligent population is exceedingly difficult. It’s easy enough to influence people but sooner or later they’ll make their own decisions regardless of what you say. I suppose it’s just the human condition that it gets bored easily and constantly looks for a better offer for anything, everything.
“Recently infected seem to be much more capable of complex thoughts and even subterfuge for a short while so the infection is most dangerous early on but that is where it’s fragile. There’s only a small window of opportunity for them to utilise their minds to gain an advantage,” says Caufmann.
“After that it’s all downhill?”
“That’s right.”
“What if we holed up somewhere and just waited it out?”
“How long do we wait? Until it spreads to the borders of Australia and beyond? Until it’s global?”
“But you said we’re already going to lose the city so it’ll spread anyway.”
“We’ve lost the city, Rennin.”
“Then what are we doing here? We should glass it and be done with it.”
“There is far too much we don’t know. This fight will never be won through weapons. We can slaughter every last one of them, and it won’t make the slightest difference because we don’t know where or how it started. Knowledge is what we need, as much of it as we can get. Make no mistake, this is ground zero for an extinction level pandemic.”
Rennin is not surprised, but the conversation does absolutely nothing to improve his outlook on the whole situation.
Dead Star is joined in the sky by other gunships, Genome among them, and almost a dozen others. The former watchman eyes the Genome gunship for a few moments wondering how the pilot is holding up after the suicide of the only other survivor from Clone Unit.
Launching a volley of missiles won’t do much to help a loss like that.
Rennin is about to ask why there are so many following their heading when Commander Croft comes over the radio announcing their orders. Raston Squad are going to engage the Suvaco android north of Blackhaven, within the Brighthelm District.
Croft goes on to give the other gunships their deployment points. Most of them are being told to reinforce the blockade forces that are under heavy assault.
Del is perfectly still but Rennin can see his jaw clenching and unclenching. The night is moving towards morning and the horizon is just starting to lighten with the false dawn. Desolator 1 can be seen several kilometres ahead.
Rennin heads straight for it.
Sindaris Tessol is walking so slowly through the underground passage that he doesn’t even feel like he’s moving. Crowds of contaminants are meandering all over the area, crawling, biting and dragging themselves from one place to another. Sindaris keeps his hood well over his face to conceal his eyes but the ones around him are little more than animals and don’t take much notice of him.
Some of them are so advanced in their mutation that they barely resemble the human beings they once were. Their skin has turned black, their eyes too. Their hands have become like claws, ending in long hooks capable of gripping into walls. Their mouths have split vertically as well as their original horizontal alignment and the maw that was once a normal mouth is full of teeth that can tear a fist sized chunk of flesh out of a human in one quick bite. But those ones are nothing more than feeding and killing machines, completely incapable of any complex thought.
Sindaris can’t feel even a hint of mood from them, only a constant nagging hunger. But he is very sure of hiding his thoughts and his name behind his own feigned hunger. He is worried they will try to make him eat with them or offer up a share of whatever poor soul they’ve found and killed, but they don’t. The contaminants don’t share food under any circumstances. The faster they eat, the faster they mutate. They become stronger, faster, and deadlier but their mental state regresses all the more quickly.