For A Few Corpses More - Pt. 4

               “The destructive force of the human race is unlike any other; the disease which followed was simply the embodiment of that destruction.” –Dr. Jean Matthews, lead scientist

               In 2055 the world was as it had been, it carried on without concern. On the first day of September things began to change. Many men made mistakes, first in a lab, then in a compound. Two men were scared. They let the virus spread back into the world, when they made one of many mistakes. Over seven billion people living on the planet when it started; not counting those that stayed, only a little over one billion made it into space.

               The virus spread, not necessarily quickly, but surely. There were very few places that were smart or lucky enough to block off their borders and keep their homes free of reanimated corpses and mutated beasts, mostly islands or areas with extreme cold. Some, in more remote locations, took to trying to wipe the plague out by destroying entire groups or even villages that had been touched by it. Many parts of Africa and Eastern Europe had been cleansed by fire and atomic force, but to no end. The governments and great minds of the world did their best to find answers to stop the spread with science. All elaborate plans had failed, in some ways causing more harm. After eight years of trying, the majority of what was left of the people of Earth gave up on their home.

               One of the many plans, a project known as Cibola, had been in effect over those eight years. Engineers and construction workers worked diligently building a new home, and the ways to get there. The giant mass web of metal was erected around what was then known as the International Space station, eventually swallowed and forgotten. The ships were built first, large boat like vessels that weren’t meant to go very far or fast. Materials were shipped up first while the initial city was built, then the mass exodus of the human race began. These ships eventually became parts of the giant network. Smaller craft were constructed to move faster with more important personnel.

               The first city, now known as Elysium, was originally just a large hollow holding area for the masses before proper construction began. Many of the workers called it New Ellis Island up until the day the construction was done, some of the older ones still do. Over the next year materials, equipment, and people were carried up by the hundreds in the bloated space boats that shook the skies.  When the majority of the people were safe expansions began and what was left of the former governments began to argue and couldn’t agree on what was best for the survivors. The survival of the human race was all that could be mutually seen by all parties. Those that chose to stay on Earth created their own ruling systems and prepared for a dangerous fight to hold onto their homes.

               Disagreements lead to the creation of new cities and new leaders. Expansion needed to happen but it did so under stressed conditions. There was a period of lawlessness and then marshal law. A large prison facility had to be constructed on the moon. Each city was different, changed by those who built it and the many more who came to inhabit it. Lost, there were many that tried to make these new cities home, reconnect with their culture.

               Elysium City was the center which each other was built out from. It was the biggest but in many ways it had become the most dependant on the others. Valhalla Prime set the highest in the web and stretched towards the North Pole. Doing all that they can to be self-sufficient, this city has become untrusting of the others. Mandarin City was to the East and was shaped like a diamond; highly populated—a domain that repopulated in preparation for their eventual return to Earth. Cairo City lay towards the South, still growing. It’s citizens having founded a new center that spawned new religions and cults. Finally there was Neo-Tokyo, the smallest and quietest of the new cities that had put their efforts towards retaking Earth through technology. Together these five different entities held to a common set of rules and loose alliances to maintain peace. Many were amazed that that peace has lasted twelve years.  

               The year is now 2075. Many humans have been born in the chilled embrace of space, not yet knowing the warmth of the sun or next to anything of the home of their ancestors. Due to strings of illness and rising numbers in miscarriages the population isn’t replenishing itself as it should.

Here, now, they are born and raised in what is loosely called a childhood until the age of twelve when they are given a job based off of their skill set and aptitude tests. The legal age for drinking, smoking, and prostitution differ from city to city but average out at fourteen. Punishment for crimes is met with a much more harsh and swift hand. All of these factors come together to create an unstable borderline near military society of people who were close enough to touch the brink of death. Now, recovery.

              

               Nyx sat in the room that she had been taken to, fingers tapping a nervous pattern out on the wooden table. She was staring down at the polished piece of furniture at her reflection, one of the few wooden handcrafted tables she had seen up here. The long rectangular room she sat in was in the Presidential district and it looked like it was used for board meetings or important dinners. The walls were lined with painted portraits of former American presidents, most she only knew the names of because they were engraved on the small plates at the bottom. She was sitting across from the partially singed portrait of Abraham Lincoln, his face not easing her concern. She stared back into her own with her bright green painted lips from work; at least they had let her change into the small denim shorts and grey hooded sweatshirt.

               The doors at the end of the room were large and wooden. They opened on hinges instead of sliding like the others on the station. The lights were different also; a comfortable gold tinge from lamps and ceiling fixtures instead of bright white flood lights built into the walls and pulsing greens and blues along the outer hull walls and city streets. It was so different and comfortable that it was uncomfortable. She wasn’t cold, and that bothered her in a way. Almost every part of the city was cold up here, but this room seemed to be at an almost perfect temperature. She remembered being younger and going to the far sides of the cities when her mother would let her. There, they would burn the thrusters extra hard to destroy and break up asteroids and debris that were getting too close. The result was a fun little light show and the excess warmth felt great, like a seasonal treat.

               She was pulled from the fond memory by the sound of the door handle being moved. The large wooden door was pulled open and she saw her partner step in. He was eyeing the room suspiciously, just as she had when they brought her in. She wanted to stand up out of her chair and run over to him right then, but she knew better. She knew Bronson could tell that she was happy to see him.

The guard that had escorted him in closed the door afterwards. Bronson took one last nervous look around before pulling out the chair next to Nyx.

“What the hell is going on,” she whispered in an agitated voice.

“I don’t know.” Bronson said as he stared forward at the painting. He matched her whisper even though he was sure the room was bugged.

“We’re paid up right? We haven’t broken any of the on-world laws? Right Bron?”

               “We’re clear.”

               “Then what the hell is this about? They pulled me straight out of work,” her voice had accidently risen above its planned tone, but she was scared and missing out on easy credits.

               “Calm down. It was the President’s seal. It’s probably a forced job transfer or a private contract,” he lied to her, knowing this was no type of job transfer.

               She paused. Her fingers had stopped tapping against the table and were now knotting up nervously.

               “You’re a guard, have you ever met him?”

               “The President, No.”

               “Do,” she bit her lip, “you still have your gun on you?”

               “No,” he shifted uncomfortably at the mention and brought one leg up to rest on his other knee, his hand checking the bottom of his polished shoe. “They said it wasn’t allowed in here, assured me no one else would have one.”

               Nyx looked like she wanted to ask something else, her painted dark green lips parted but quickly closed afterwards. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence that followed. They would face whatever was coming together, but everything was still uncertain.

               Finally the double doors opened and the two hunters turned to get their first glance at the president in the flesh. Bronson was hard to read. Usually, only Nyx could tell when he was really upset, but when Jonah Pierce walked through the door it was pretty obvious he wasn’t happy. Bronson noticed that the pouch from Pierce’s belt was absent now as well. Whatever he had treasured so much that he got from the planet had either already been delivered to the buyer or was stashed away some place safe. Bronson knew it was important, and it wasn’t just a hunch, he didn’t believe in those.

               Pierce had opened the double doors for three men that followed behind him. It wasn’t hard to see the established pecking order. The man who entered first, after the doors were opened for him, was young and in a formal military uniform. Bronson’s eyebrow rose when he saw the three stars that rested on each of the man’s shoulders. His hands were folded behind him as he walked to the head of the table. He paid no mind to his two guests until after he was seated. His hair was parted perfectly down the middle. It was dark and spiked up slightly in the back. His features were smooth from youth and were untouched by exposure to the harshness of the sun. There was a stern tenseness in his eyes though.

After him was the older man with the goatee that was beginning to go from brown to grey. He was wearing thin rimmed glasses that had scratches on the side of the left lens. In his hands were several notebooks and files. Clipped to his jacket was a black and yellow badge with his picture and a barcode that underneath it read, “Dr. Henry Ramos”. He took a glance at Bronson and Nyx before sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table.

The final man was a suit; almost no one wore suits anymore. There was no middle class anymore, suits were worn by government employees and a few heads of companies. He had dirty blonde hair and a metallic implant over his right eye that looked like it was attached to a fake eye, it didn’t move like his other one did. He sat down next to Nyx but didn’t make eye contact with her. She couldn’t help but notice his hands shake slightly as he pulled up something on his electronic tablet. His fingernails and hair were better kept than hers, and probably more than most of the people in Elysium City.

“Thank you for joining us,” The General said, as if they had a choice. “My name is General Stefan De Soto.” Once the military was reformed on Elysium city with what was left, the extreme number of deaths left a lot of higher positions open. De Soto was the youngest three star general in history. “After some deliberation on a particular issue, both of your names came up quite a bit.”

“As far as head hunters,” The suit clarified. He had opened one of the files and was reading something. Nyx realized that she could hear his mechanical eye operating next to her, a small piston sounding off, or metal moving against metal, either way it unnerved her.

               “The man to my left is the President’s advisor, Alton Goldsmith.” De Soto motioned slightly with a hand before refolding them on the table. “He’s seen your records. You’re; quiet, careful, safe especially for such a small team. In fact there have been almost no problems with your work. You don’t take too much, you don’t get greedy.”

               Goldsmith spoke up as he glanced at one of his many papers.

               “Even if we don’t overlook your citations you’ve accumulated, Mr. Bronson’s military service back on Earth and here as a guard is exceptional.”

               Nyx wanted to blurt out that they needed to get to the point. She had a sneaking suspicion they didn’t really need her though, so that idea passed. She was trying to read her partner but Bronson was watching the General, watching his eyes closely.

               De Soto opened his mouth to speak again but paused, reconsidering his words.

               “I won’t treat you like amateurs, and time is an issue.” The General leaned closer towards Bronson. “You’re a soldier,” he said, knowing Bronson, knowing the type. He knew the right strings to pull. “Right now, your city needs you. No, the planet needs you.”

               “Little overdramatic don’t you think,” Nyx said.

               The General paused. He knew that he only had to convince Bronson to go and Nyx would follow, but her statement was still irksome.

               “No, it isn’t.” The aged voice of the doctor answered her. “If the information I received last night was correct, we could save Earth, save our home.”

               “This is Doctor Henry Ramos,” the General broke back in. “He is the most studied man in the plague and its effects on the planet that is alive today.” He chose his next words carefully. “During the years that the world’s militaries were still trying to deal with epidemic planet side, Dr. Ramos was helping the North American government with several projects.”  

               “I worked on a lot of things. After the bombings in Europe though, many of them were abandoned. There was one though,” Ramos paused. “There was one in particular, a project they named Vita Nova,” his hand shook ever so slightly at the mention of it. “It was abandoned, moved, thought unusable.” He steadied his left hand with his right. “On one of the trips down recently though I was able to reestablish a connection with several of the computer mainframes on the West Coast, something I knew would be valuable but there was so much more.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll spare you the details. What I’m saying is that there was data recorded for Vita Nova, data that has been recording for the last twelve years. The project isn’t just still running, it worked,” he said with a wonder in his eyes.

               “At some point the project was moved to a secure location, no one who was left alive that had high enough clearance knew where though. That’s why operatives were sent to known military sites that had most likely survived the past few years, and we were successful.” He motioned to Pierce who had been standing in the back corner of the room silently, assuming his role as lap dog. “This is Jonah Pierce. He retrieved a data stick that had the information about project Vita Nova, and where it was moved to.”

               “We’ve met,” Bronson said in a dry huff.

               “Mr. Pierce produced the needed results, we now know where project Vita Nova is, and we are ready to retrieve it.”

               Bronson shook his head slightly and finally spoke up, leaning forward in his chair. “Why are you using non-military personnel,” he asked, motioning to Pierce then back to himself and Nyx. “Since I’m guessing you didn’t tell us all of this unless you wanted us to go and get it.”

               “Well,” Goldsmith began. General De Soto raised a hand and stopped him.

               “No, you aren’t wrong. My forces are stretched a bit thin as of late.” A small smile broke across his face, a weary smile. “I have been dealing with many things. There are the riots, as I’m sure you know. The issues with the Australian settlers have become a problem. Then there is matter of the recent breeches on the lunar prison’s security. Throw these things on top of the operatives I have working Cairo City and Neo Tokyo, and you’ll understand how hard it is to keep things together with a military force that isn’t replenishing itself like it should.”

               Bronson rubbed his chin as he listened to the men.

               “If I may,” Ramos broke in. He looked at Bronson and Nyx. “I asked for them to make sure not to send brutes on this mission, someone who will think before pulling a trigger. I implore you, I’m well aware that pessimism and disbelief are the common trend in the recent past, but,” he stood, becoming passionate in his plea. “This will work, I assure you. I’ve run the scenarios a hundred times.”

               “It’s my belief that a small team, one with skilled hunters can sneak in without any of the other cities or the Earth settlers getting wind of what’s going on. You’re familiar with the nomadic groups, the cannibals, the militias, and of course the corpses that could all get in the way. We also believe that the Aussies have agents in North America still.”

               The General tried to read his guests as the words sat in.

               “My men are mostly new, young. They don’t have the same experiences dealing with what has infested that planet.”

               “We get new reports every day,” Goldsmith chimed in. “Stories about the cannibals, booby traps going off accidently, giant scorpions. Why, just the other day I had two reports of intelligent zom-“

               “That’s quite enough,” The General interrupted. “I think they’re more aware of what dangers that rock potentially holds than we are. What is important is that project Vita Nova can fix all of that. Right, Dr. Ramos?”

               “Yes, yes.” Ramos nodded emphatically as he adjusted his scratched glasses.

               There was another long moment of silence and Bronson looked away from the other people in the room. He thought for a long moment. Nyx looked at him as thoughts raced through her mind. There was a lingering question though.

               “What do we get out of this?”

               “We get the Earth back,” The doctor replied.

               Goldsmith glanced at the General and then back to Nyx.

               “The President is willing to offer you an amount of credits equal to one year’s salary under your current job title. However, my research shows that you have been trying to get out of that job for three years now. We can make that happen, any job you want to be trained for. We can cut out the paperwork.”

               Nyx was prepared to laugh at Goldsmith when he had begun, credits were nice but this wasn’t a typical head hunt. It was the second part that caught her off guard. She could get out of the club; make a lot more credits than she needed if she chose wisely. She thought about it, the truth that she would have gone with Bronson if he went anyway was much further away from her mind than she liked. There was a greedy side to her that poverty had fed her.

               “As for Mr. Bronson,” Goldsmith continued. “The President is prepared to grant your brother, Elijah Bronson, a full pardon from prison.”

               Bronson sighed and stood.

               “No,” He looked back at Goldsmith. “He knew what he was doing. He’ll finish out his time.” Glancing at the General, Bronson eyed him carefully. “Small team, right?”

               “You, your partner, Captain Dine, and one of his men; four should be sufficient with your expertise.”

               “You know exactly where we are going? What we’re looking for? You have a way to get us down and back up without alerting any of the other cities or settlers? You aren’t putting us in unnecessary danger?”

               “Mr. Bronson,” the General said, shaking his head. “I may look young but I’m not new to any of this. I’ll treat you better than I treat my own men. You’re doing the human race its biggest favor to date.”

               Bronson swallowed hard and pushed the chair out from the table. “I’ll do it then, if it needs to be done, I have just as much responsibility as anyone else.”

               “Me too,” Nyx said standing. She looked at Goldsmith though as if to reaffirm the conditions he stated earlier.

               The General stood. “Good, it’s settled then. I’ll let Captain Dine know.” He folded his hands behind him once more and headed for the door with Goldsmith and Pierce following behind him. “I’ll inform him that you’ll be in cargo hold twelve in one hour.”

               None of the three looked back at their soldiers of fortune as they exited. There was a pause of silence as the doctor lingered behind. Dr. Ramos approached the two hunters. His shaking hand grasped Bronson’s forearm and squeezed against the muscle tissue.

“Please, I beg of you,” his tongue wet his lips, he was having trouble speaking. “I don’t mean to sound old and over dramatic but this may be the last chance for any of our kind to actually save our species. You two could do that if you can get Vita Nova to me.”

Bronson and Nyx both stopped staring at the bulging shaky eyes of the doctor long enough to share a glance of their own, each wondering what they had just gotten into.