The Biomass Revolution (The Tisaian Chronicles) (15 page)

“You know
I’m not melodramatic, but men, you’re some of the finest damn soldiers in Tisaia. What I’m about to tell you, I don’t do lightheartedly. Project 1200 is being reopened. This comes from the very top. We have two weeks to map these tunnels and flush out the TDU. Augustus believes they’re hiding in these tunnels and Governor Felix has signed off on this plan.”

The crowd of Knights
stared back at him blankly. Not a single one of them flinched. The engineer was the only one squirming in his chair. Just when Morr was about to turn, satisfied his men were up for the challenge, a middle-aged Knight named Riya, who served as an adviser to Commander Augustus, stood. Most of his colleagues knew him for his quick thinking and his ability to negotiate.

“Permission to speak
, Supreme Knight Morr,” Riya asked.

“What possible input could you bring to this conversati
on, Knight Riya?”

Morr and Riya had
a long past. They both joined the academy and served as cadets in the same class. They quickly became class rivals and it was Riya who obtained the highest rank a cadet could earn before becoming a Knight. Their history had since been a clouded one, where competition and rivalry fueled many of their policy moves.

Riya laughed arrogantly, showing no respect for his superior. “What could I possibly bring to this dialogue?” he asked
, chuckling.

“The first thing I could do is tell you the
tunnels that were closed off decades ago under Project 1200 are nowhere you want to send your best men. I know because I was there many years ago. The horrors in those tunnels are unspeakable. They would be the last place the TDU would be hiding.” Riya said.

“Two w
eeks to map an area as large as this is an impossible task and will only result in more deaths of SGS employees and Knights. Being an advisor to the Governor, I could certainly ask him to reconsider,” he finished.

Morr
laughed. “Are you actually that ignorant, to believe the Governor would consider what you have to say on this matter? Don’t you think he would have asked you if he wanted your input?” he said, watching Riya’s face turn red with embarrassment.

“Where along the lines did you forget what an order is? T
his plan is not open for negotiation, and has come from Commander Augustus’ office and the Governor. This is the mission—this is your mission. And you will accept it.” Morr paused and turned to look at Riya directly.

“
You would be best to learn your place as a Knight, Riya. You aren’t a politician. You’re a soldier. The faster you learn that, the better or you’ll face the consequences,” Morr concluded, turning back to the hologram.

Riya sat back down in his chair silently
, furious at the threat his superior had just thrown at him in front of his fellow Knights. And the fact Morr called him by his name without referring to his rank made him boil inside. One of the first things a Knight learned in the academy was the formal way of conversation. He didn’t speak like a stiff robot because he enjoyed it; he did so because he was taught to.

If he was a young
er man he would have struck Morr in the jaw, but he was old enough to know his place and what he could get away with. Even Riya knew when enough was enough, and today he had crossed a line he hadn’t been fully prepared to cross.

Satisfied, Morr turned back to the rest of his men. “I presume the rest of you don’t have any questions.
Correct?” he asked, shuffling a few pieces of loose paper and raising a brow before proceeding, to avoid any further disruptions. “Okay then. Your team leaders will brief you in several hours. This mission is a green light. We’re heading out, once we gear up and get briefed. That is all, men; you’re dismissed. Good luck, and kill me some damn TDU.”

“Dark Horses!” the men yelled in unison
, standing and filtering out of the room.

Morr watched them leave, keeping an eye on Riya
, who flashed him a quick glance. If it were up to him Riya would be pulled from the mission, but he was a Dark Horse and even Morr had to admit they needed him, especially with his experience in the tunnels. Morr put his glasses back on and watched the hologram slim and slip back into its small black home.

He
gritted his teeth and thought back to what Riya said, about the horrors in the tunnels. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. The tunnels contained unthinkable terrors, and it wasn’t just the TDU hiding in the darkness. Deep down, Morr knew Riya was right; many of the Dark Horses would not be making it home from this mission. 

Time
: 12:30 p.m. January 31, 2071

Location
: Council of Royal Knights Headquarters. Lunia, Tisaia

The Council of Royal Knight Headquarters was a monstrosity, reminding Riya of the medieval fortresses he saw in pictures as a child. It was in many ways a model castle; fortified and reinforced with concrete, rebar, and more concrete and rebar. It was, more than anything, a creation of intimidation, with its nine stories of gray concrete walls lined with cannons, machine guns, and rocket launchers. If there was any structure that confirmed the reality of the revolution, this building was it.

The outside of the headquarters was lined with three perimeters of barb
ed wire fences and stone walls bordered by buried land minds. The only way into the building was through a series of three checkpoints staffed by several Knights. Even the road was blocked off for three miles, to prevent any vehicles from entering the premises with bombs or other explosive devices. The headquarters were impregnable.

Riya quickly
made his way through the white courtyard in front of the headquarters. He saluted a marble statue engraved with every fallen Knight’s name. The monument was beautiful, with a waterfall running down the names and collecting in a pool below, where civilians and Knights would leave flower petals, notes, and other tributes. Saluting this monument was a tradition that Riya followed since the day he became a Knight.

Riya dropped his salute and continued through the courtyard, nodding at two Knights guarding the front door.

The powerful aroma of bleach immediately entered his nostrils as he walked through the front doors. Not even the air filtration system built into his helmet could remove the smell. It was simply too potent. He didn’t mind, though; the glistening stone walls of the lobby were an acceptable trade off.

The interior of the building was not much different than the exterior. It wasn’t built for its aesthetically pleasing features. The surface and walls of the lobby were almost completely bare; no art work, fountains or colorful flower designs
would be seen here. A single portrait of Commander Augustus was the only item hanging above the oval stone receptionist’s desk. The ceiling in the lobby extended nine stories high. At the top, the burning flame symbol of Tisaia was stenciled into the stone.

Riya hustled through the lobby, nodding at another two guards manning the front desk.
He had been a Knight since Tisaia’s conception, and served her loyally ever since. Well, for the most part, but even he had his limits. His main grievance was the immigration situation, which seemed to be getting progressively worse. There were just too many people who had survived the Biomass Wars living in the Wastelands. He had voiced his opinion carefully on this matter in the past, butting heads with Sonii, the Governor’s Chief of Staff. This was more than likely the reason he was not consulted on the reopening of Project 1200.

Riya
opened a door at the end of the lobby, slowly making his way down to the gymnasium. He had seen the stockpiles of food and Biomass, and he knew better than any politician there was plenty available to help the immigrants and those outside the walls. Sure, housing would be a problem, but the immigrant camps would be a perfect place to put refugees.

When Riya was first out of the
academy, he was assigned to one of the early immigrant camps. It was there his empathy began, and the feelings had only grown over time.

He shook his head. Politics gave him a headache
, and had since he was in the academy. At the bottom of the stairwell two more Knights stood guarding the double doors. As he approached they swung the doors open, the bright white glare of the ceiling lights blinding him momentarily.

The gymnasium was the only place large enough for all of the Knights
assigned to Project 1200 to meet. At least that’s what Commander Augustus and Supreme Knight Morr had decided. Neither of these men was present, having felt their expectations for the mission to be clear. They left the team leads in charge of handing out assignments to the Knights.

Riya removed his helmet and shuffled through the crowd of Knights,
fidgeting with his sword so he didn’t run into anyone. In the corner of the room he saw Lupa, one of his best friends and closest squad mates. Lupa was also middle aged, with far less hair. His face was lightly bearded and defined by a large nose that had been broken on several occasions. This resulted in much teasing, his fellow Knights claiming Lupa was an immigrant himself.

Riya
nudged Lupa in his armored shoulder. “Where do you think they’re going to send us?” he said, with a grin.

Lupa
shrugged. “Wherever it’s, it probably isn’t going to be good. Honestly though, I’d rather get assigned to the tunnels. They’ve always fascinated me.”

Riya laughed. “These tunnels are not the fascinating type
, my friend. Whatever I tell you will not prepare you for what we see if we’re assigned there.”

“Knights, please line up by squad,” Jeriche yelled over the crowd.
“I’ll keep this really short. As you already know, Commander Augustus has reopened Project 1200 to be led by the Dark Horses. Most of you will be assigned to the tunnels, while a few teams will be attached to Knight squads protecting the trolley stations. Expect to be deployed in phases during the next twenty-four hours. Your team leaders have your assignments,” Jeriche concluded, heading towards the exit. Commotion broke out in the silent gymnasium as Knights searched for their teams.

Riya watched Albri, the commander of his unit
, walk through the crowd. Within seconds Albri was standing in front of his men.

“
We’ve been assigned to a tunnel area under the western wall of Tisaia’s border. We move out in four hours, so I’d suggest you do a gear check, load up on ammo and catch an hour or so of sleep. Let’s get moving guys,” Albri said in his typical lighthearted voice.

He had hardly finished giving his orders before he was moving
, leading the squad out of the gymnasium. As they made their way into the stairs leading to the surface, Lupa turned to Riya.

“Are the tunnels really that bad?”
he asked, scratching his receding hairline.

“
Have I ever lied to you?”

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say,” Lupa replied
.  

        
Chapter 6: The Tunnels

“
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
”

~Edgar Allen Poe

Time
: Unknown

Location
: Unknown 

A soft rain peppered Spurious’ leather coat, the drips of water forming small rivers on their paths down the black leather. Spurious wiped the rain off his forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He rested his back against a stone bench beneath the feet of the stone statue of Koliam, the first Knight of Tisaia.

The rain didn’t bother him; in fact
, he liked the refreshing feeling of it as each drop touched his skin. He looked about the courtyard; admiring the statues of other Knights and the massive stone statue of Governor Lunia, the first Governor of Tisaia and the man after whom the capitol city had been named following his assassination.

The courtyard was truly a royal place
, and to many, a holy place. It was only the second time Spurious had seen it. He could still remember the first time like it was yesterday. The memory of the tour guide leading his graduating class through the gardens many years ago remained engrained in his mind. Spurious could still feel the excitement pumping through his veins as he watched a squad of Royal Knights fire a volley of shots in awe. It was a tradition started by Governor Lunia in order to celebrate the University of Tisaia’s graduates. Each year, Spurious could hear the bark of the Knights’ rifles from his office.

The rain began to
pick up and collect in puddles on the stone courtyard. Lightning illuminated the oblique skeletons of the skyscrapers in the distance. Spurious ignored them, his eyes fixated on a man dressed in a white robe, slugging down the path of carefully cut stones towards him.

Something was not right. Spurious survey
ed the rest of the courtyard. It was completely empty. There wasn't even a Royal Knight guarding the sacred place.

Another streak of yellow lightning lit up the garden of stone with a crack of thunder following close behind. The man was slowly creeping towards Spurious, undeterred by the brewing storm. 
He tried not to move, to remain completely silent, but the chilled night gave him away as his breath steamed into the gray sky.

The
stranger continued slugging forward, his head tucked into his collarbones, staring intently at the stone pathway. In seconds, the man would be at his feet, but for some reason Spurious wasn’t frightened by the man’s presence. In an odd sense he was relieved. The empty courtyard was eerie and he still couldn’t remember how he got there.

Spurious
brought his fingers to his face, feeling his freezing skin. The night was so cold, clusters of ice were beginning to form on the stone statues. He knew he needed to go home, but he was frozen. His eyes were still fixated on the robed man who stopped in front of him, slowly pulling his face from his chin.

I’m asleep,
Spurious finally realized, as another flash of lightning lit up the dark sky and illuminated the face of the old man.

“Paulo,” Spurious gasped.
“It can’t be.”

There was no mistaking it;
his old friend stood staring at him, eyes wide and his face pale and gray like the sky.

“
They’re coming for you, Spurious,” Paulo said.

“Who’s coming for me
, Paulo? Who?”

“
You’ll know soon,” Paulo said, turning and walking back down the same stone path.

“Paulo
, wait! Who’s coming for me?” Spurious yelled. It was too late, though; Paulo disappeared in the downpour. He looked again at the statue of Governor Lunia and darkness washed over him.

Time
: 5:30 a.m. February 3, 2071

Location
: Commons Building 21, Apt 14. Lunia, Tisaia

Spurious awoke in a sweat. “Anya, lights,” he said urgently. An orange glow immediately washed over the room and Spurious sat up, clawing at his eyes in an attempt to clear the fog.

What the hell
was that all about? Why would Paulo tell me that someone was coming for me?

The
dream had to be related to his encounter with the Knights at The Ale House.
It’s just my mind,
he thought, rubbing his eyes again. The cloud slowly began to clear and he pulled his blanket up to his neck, prompting Anya to change the temperature gauge. He listened to the Biomass-fed furnace flare to life in the utility closet. “Thanks,” he said, laying his head back on his pillow. Anya was very observant, rarely overlooking any of his needs. She never slept, her mainframe only idling when he was asleep.

“Spurious, you don’t appear well. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Anya suggested.

“I don’t need to go back to sleep,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry
, sir, is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah, actually, search the databases and see if you can find anything on the TDU members that attacked the trolley stations
.”

“Sir, this is classified information. I don’t have access to it.”

Spurious turned over in bed and stared at Anya’s hologram. “I want to know who killed Paulo. Just see what you can find.”

“Sir, your
behavior is irrational. You have no logical reason to seek this information.”

Spurious rolled his eyes. “Anya, you are a machine. You don’t know what it is like to have friends. Paulo was a good man and I want to know who killed him. There isn’t anything irrational about that.”

Anya’s hologram dimmed and disappeared before reappearing on a stand across from Spurious’ bed.

“You are correct. I do not understand human emotion, but I know you have not been yourself and it is my job to take care of you.”

“Then search the databases and help me find his killers.”

“
What do you hope to do with this information if I find it?” she asked.

Spurious paused. “Nothing,” he lied. “I just want to know.”

“Very well sir. I’ll see what my resources uncover,” she replied.

Spurious closed his eyes, fatigue washing
over him. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Anya, but she was the only connection he had to the State’s archives.

Her blue hologram disappeared and darkness carpeted the room. Spurious yawned and rolled over.
Part of him was afraid to return to sleep. He knew he was in a dark place. His past was haunting him both in sleep and during the day, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.

Time
: 11:30 p.m. February 3, 2071

Location
: Lunia, Tisaia

By day Agrippa worked as an accountant in SGS Finances, by night he drove a Biomass-run automobile, one of the oldest heaps of trash he had ever seen. In fact, it was so old he could vaguely read the UPS lettering on the brown dashboard. Now the antique belonged to his boss and was property of Cyriaca United, a food transportation company.

F
ollowing State law, Cyriaca had registered for and received a permit to carry foods deemed healthy by the State. The majority of the foods he transported were grown in State-run greenhouses. There wasn’t much money in this business, but his boss only used the company as a front.

D
uring the day his other driver would deliver foods to State office buildings: cafeterias, markets, and food stands. By night Agrippa would pick up black market food and other fine perishable items and deliver these items to wealthy Tisaian citizens. The job was never dangerous, and the only threat he faced was the possibility of being caught by undercover CRK officers. That, however, was rare, and in the three years Cyriaca had been in business he had never been stopped. Besides, the State knew about operations like Cyriaca’s and never intervened. The government needed his business as badly as he needed theirs.

The night
began with a routine drop off just south of Lunia, at a gated community called Silver Terrace. It was on the outskirts of the city, where the wealthy built their mansions.

He
looked down at the invoice, surprised to see the strict orders; the customers wanted their delivery dropped off outside a large oak tree on the edge of their property. The money would be waiting for Agrippa in their mailbox. It was a weird request, but not uncommon and Agrippa decided to think nothing of it.

He turned the key
and the old truck coughed to life, the Biomass flowing through its veins. The beams from the truck’s headlights tore through the darkness as he put it into gear and bellowed out of the garage.

“Holy shit
!” he yelled. The truck fishtailed on the slick cobblestone streets. The tires spat chunks of freshly planted snow into the frothy air, shotgun-spraying the powder into parked cars. Agrippa grabbed the steering wheel tightly with his gloved hands, scanning the dark road ahead as he regained control of the vehicle. The small white flakes melted on his windshield as his truck crawled down the icy road.

In the
distance he could make out the outline of several trees. Even with the low visibility he could see they were young and still maturing, not the monstrous oak trees he was looking for. Silver Terrace was known for its forest of mature trees, some of the only ones that had survived the Biomass Wars. 

He shifted the manual transmission into a higher gear
, listening to the engine groan as the truck increased speed. The border of Lunia was only about a mile away. He knew the route by heart and had memorized each twist and bend in the road.

Within seconds, the white beams from his truck illuminated the black fence surrounding Silver Terrace. He took a deep breath, relieved to be off the main arterial road.

He eased his truck up to the edge of the gate and turned off the engine. He swung the brown door open, splintering the ice that had accumulated around the window into a thousand shards. A blast of frosty air took his breath away as he jumped into the snow below, prompting him to pull his stocking cap over his thinning hair. “Damn cold
,”
he muttered aloud.

He braced
himself for another gust of wind, but instead a voice rang out in the night. “Freeze, you piece of shit!”

Agrippa turned quickly and met the butt of a rifle with his chest. He fell coughing onto the snowy ground, not daring
to look up at his attacker.

“Give me the f
ucking key,” the voice ordered.

Agrippa quickly reached for the truck key deep in his pocket
. He raised it into the air without looking up, terror racing through his veins. He knew the best thing to do was not look at his attacker, for if he could identify her, then he would surely be killed.

The attacker grabbed the keys. “Y
our truck is property of the TDU,” she said, kicking Agrippa in the face.

“Stop, please, don’t do this!
” Agrippa screamed as a waterfall of blood poured from his nose onto the white blanket of snow, turning it a bright red.

“I’m sorry
, man.” the attacker said, turning to walk away.

Agrippa sucked in the cold air, his hands shaking nervously as they shielded his head. He listened as the crunch of footsteps became faint in the distance, but he still did not dare look up. For a minute he stayed put, kneeling in the wet snow, his toes beginning to freeze. And just when he thought he was safe
, he heard the footsteps heading towards him again. He looked up to scream, but didn’t get the chance.

A shot rang out in the cold night
air, and Agrippa’s dead body slumped into the white snow, a trail of blood seeping into the fresh powder. Another gust of wind hit his lifeless body as the attacker fired up the engine of her truck and drove off into the night.

***

“Why the hell did you have to kill him?” Ran shouted, punching Nordica in the arm.

“The guy could have freaking identified me
, you ignorant piece of shit,” Nordica roared back, swatting at him with her free hand while gripping the steering wheel.

“You didn’t need to kill the guy, and you know it. You just wanted to try out your new gun.”

“You’re right, Ran; I just wanted to see his brains in the snow.”

Ran shot Nordica a stern look, but
then turned his attention back to the empty road. They were still several miles from their hidden storm drain location, and the truck was low on juice, the engine groaning like a sick child. 

Nordica
saw the worry in Ran’s face and smiled. “Don’t worry, little man. We’re going to make it. And just think of the reception we’re going to have.” Nordica said, cocking her head to look at the cargo bay full of food.

Ran turned to gaze at the food, but quickly peered back at the dark road. Not even a semi trailer full of food would make him feel better. Whenever Nordica killed innocent civilians it made him sick. And tonight, his mind ached in anguish.