The Biomass Revolution (The Tisaian Chronicles) (9 page)

Ajax turned his massive torso, gripping his black CRK assault rifle. It was his weapon of choice, and it came equipped with a
double blade bayonet, a design the TDU gunsmith created at his request. Ajax was dressed completely in black fatigues outfitted for the severe cold weather they were experiencing in the Wastelands. If it weren’t for his size he would look like one of the ninjas Obi remembered seeing in movies as a child.

“I
have four, including the one I keep in my pack; what do you got in mind, boss?”

Obi thought for a moment, trying to contemplat
e the best way to approach the Scorpions. He remembered what he had learned in the CRK military academy before he dropped out and joined the rebellion.

The best de
fense is a good offense
.

“Ajax
, we’re heading down to the road. Just follow me, and trust me.” Without hesitation, Ajax fastened his assault rifle onto his back and they began their descent into the valley below.

Time
: 7:59 a.m. January 28, 2071

Location
: The Wastelands

Ajax and Obi lay waiting for the dust storm to pass. They sought refuge in the bed of a charred pickup truck, the paint now nothing more than a distant memory, a faint blue peeling off the weathered metal. Gray ash and dust drifted across the cracked blacktop. An army of limbless electrical poles lined the edge of the highway, a single remaining wire swaying violently in the fierce wind. 

Obi pulled his mask tighter over his face, wiping a single bead of sweat off his nose. He wanted to ignore the death, the s
tark reality that the stumps of charred trees and the sun bleached bones jutting out of the scorched earth were not real. But they were. It was an image he had seen many times before and a reality he had accepted long ago.

“
Men, I want radio silence from here on out,” Obi whispered into his radio. “Nathar, you and Creo take out any foot soldiers from your position. Ajax and I’ll take care of the Scorpions before they can call in reinforcements.”

The dust storm shook the sides of the pickup truck, rattling it like a toy. Blasts of dust and rock bit Obi intermitt
ently through the rusted out holes in the side of the metal truck, while the wind continued its tirade. The humming of the Scorpions in the distance sent a chill down his spine. The sound of their engines was deafening at close range, and even over the noise of the fierce wind, Obi could hear them buzzing through the Wastelands like a swarm of hornets.

Obi
wasn’t sure where they were going, or what their mission was, but he assumed they were scouts responding to intelligence they had received on TDU positions. His plan was to stop them before they could call in reinforcements.

His main concern wasn’t the Scorpions racing towards his squad’s position. It was t
he proximity of their location to the Tisaian walls. If the Scorpions had time to call in reinforcements, they could be there in minutes. And there was no way his squad could escape the Scorpions on foot. Not now. They were forced to fight, forced to stand their ground. It was the opposite strategy other TDU squads used in the past and exactly why Obi thought it would work.

Within minutes the dust storm passed and visibility returned to normal. Obi peeked over the bed of the pickup truck, watching the small black specs of the Scorpions growing in the distance.

“Time to move,” he said, shaking Ajax’s shoulder and jumping onto the blacktop, a cloud of recently deposited ash billowing into the air. Within seconds he was trotting through the maze of charred vehicles, Ajax following close behind, his weapon bobbing up and down on his back. As the humming got louder the pair broke into a sprint, grimacing when the intermittent wind stung their bare skin with sand, dirt and rocks. Obi raised his right hand and pointed to a slab of concrete bunker. “There!” he yelled. Ajax stopped, panting heavily, and squinting into his goggles to make out what appeared to be the basement of an old gas station.

As Obi neared the structure he saw it was about
eight feet deep, a perfect foxhole for someone Ajax’s size. It was also three feet above grade and would provide the perfect sniping point.

“Ajax, this is going to be your position.
I’m going to take cover in…” Obi paused as he scanned his surroundings for the perfect spot. His eyes came to rest on a fully intact minivan not 100 yards away.

Out of all of these cars, the one to survive was
a freaking minivan.

“Your grenades
,” Obi said, holding out his gloved hand.

Ajax reached into his side pockets and pulled out a
handful of the explosives. For a second their eyes locked through their goggle lenses, and a look of uncertainty passed between both men. It wasn’t fear, or nerves, just the feeling they might not see each other again. The feeling lingered momentarily before they nodded and parted ways to take up their positions. They were soldiers and were trained not to have emotions in combat situations, and the sharp buzz from the Scorpions was growing louder by the second.

Luck was on Obi’s side today.
The Scorpions were headed right for their location, blind to the danger ahead. By the time Obi detonated the first grenade the lead Scorpion was already in the air, the explosion lifting its front end off the dusty road and turning it into a spinning ball of flames. As the Scorpion smashed back onto the pavement, the collision caused the soldier manning the rocket launcher to fire prematurely into the blacktop, the explosion instantly enveloping the entire vehicle.

The other three S
corpions zipped away in different directions, one of them only narrowly missing the burning hull of the first destroyed Scorpion. Clouds of dark smoke erupted from the belly of the vehicle, now nothing more than a crater in the ground.

Obi
peeked through one of the van windows, trying to keep track of the Scorpions as they raced away from the ambush. He pulled the mask down from his face and wiped the sweat from his scorched forehead. A piece of shrapnel from the first Scorpion had torn through the thin metal of the minivan door, narrowly missing his scalp and leaving a black streak of grease across his forehead. He wiped it clean and nodded to Ajax across the road, ready for the next phase.

Quickly
, Obi opened the van door and took off in a sprint down the remnants of the old highway, his head down and tucked into his chest. Ajax followed closely behind, his rifle at the ready. They found the perfect refuge under the belly of an old semi-trailer on its side. The trailer looked like the skeleton of a large whale, with metal ribs poking out from the torn canvas.

He took a knee at the edge of the trailer where
the twisted metal created a cage for them to set up position. The canvas clung to the metal columns like skin and provided the perfect camouflage.

“This gives us little prot
ection if the Scorpions find us,” Ajax whispered, taking a knee next to Obi.

“Don’t worry,
their heat sensors won’t be able to pick us up in this storm. And besides, I’m not going to give them that opportunity.”

“What do you have in mind?” Ajax asked
, with a strained look of concern.

“I just need some bait,
” Obi said, surveying the stark landscape.

Time
: 8:24 a.m. January 28, 2071

Location
: The Wastelands

A mile away the three remaining Scorpions regrouped, their gunners anxious to start a search and destroy mission. Their engines humming, they sat paused in the dry gray ash.

In the middle of the unit Captain McNeil
l stood on the hood of his tan Scorpion. He was covered from neck to toe in gmetal, the polished silver armor glimmering naturally under the gray sky.

His men watched from the comfort and safety of their vehicles
, wondering why he would risk making himself a target on the hood of the Scorpion. But the rookie Knights had not heard the stories of how Captain McNeill gained the respect and loyalty of his superiors. It certainly wasn’t by hiding his face behind the armor of vehicles or the walls of bunkers. He rose to the top of his unit by fighting the rebels face to face for over two decades.

His skin was a canva
s of scars, like a battle map; peppered with red streaks, each scar revealed a different story. It was his bravery, which appeared to some new recruits as foolishness, that earned him the rank of Captain from Commander Augustus personally. His wounds were a constant reminder of all the injuries suffered over his years of service; from his left cheekbone wrinkled and dark from radiation exposure during the Biomass Wars, to his prosthetic knees—they were all medals gained in the loyal service of a Royal Knight. 

A blast of wind tore into his armor, whistling across the gmetal. He grima
ced as his leg began to ache. The memory of the TDU ambush that had caused it slipped into his mind.

He could recall it vividly, almost able to
taste the smoke from the bombs Squad 19 had planted in an apartment building. The trap had wiped out half of his squad.

Squad 19.

McNeill snarled. He had hunted the squad and Commander Obi for years, trailing their scent into the tunnels snaking deep beneath the cities and into the Wastelands.

Are they out there? he wondered, massaging
the metal skin of his robotic arm and staring into the distance.

He
shook the painful memories out of his mind and glassed the horizon for the rebels. His eyes read the landscape like a hawk searching for its prey, combing the dark gray ground, dry and peppered with ash. There was no sign of the people who once lived here, save for their charred vehicles and bones. The Wastelands were a graveyard, and disgusted him almost as much as the rebels.

As his eyes continued to scan the terrain he came across a rock structure
jutting out of the ground like the spikes on the back of a prehistoric monster. Underneath the formation were the remains of an old highway. He could scarcely make out the shapes of ruined cars, but there was no mistaking it. He instantly knew it was where the rebels would be hiding. He knew because this was where he too would be hiding if he were them.

He jumped off the hood of the S
corpion; his assault rifle clanking on the back of his armor. 

“
Hand me your radio,” he commanded, reaching into the vehicle’s open window.

“Base this is Captain McNeill
, over.”

“Roger, base here, go ahead.”

“We’ve been ambushed and suffered the loss of one Scorpion. I’ve identified a possible enemy location and request permission to engage, over.”

The sound of static followed as McNeill waited for
a response. The driver of the Scorpion shook noticeably, his armor-covered hands gripping the steering wheel as if he was clinging on for life.

“Captain, this is General Logsdon. What’s your current location, over?”

“We’re about 20 miles due west of the walls. The rebels are dug in close to a large rock formation. We do not know their exact location,” McNeill paused for a second, more than enough for any veteran to notice a hint of reservation. Luckily none of the rookies seemed to notice it, or at least acknowledge it.

The static of the radio blurred to life. “Captain, do you need reinforcements? Over.
”

McNeill paused and stared at the rock formation in the distance. “No s
ir, I can handle this one. Over,” he said firmly.

He had failed to eliminate Squad 19 many times before, almost losing his own life in the process. This time was going to be different—this time he had them cornered. He didn’t need help to bring Obi’s head to Commander Augustus.

“Roger. Keep us updated Captain. Over.”

McNeill handed the radi
o back through the window to the rookie Knight, who fumbled with the small device before placing it back into its charger.

“
You better get with it,” McNeill shouted before strolling confidently over to the passenger side door.

With over 20
years of experience, he had grown accustomed to routing out rebels and finding their leaders. Today, in his opinion, would be no different—today Obi’s time as commander of Squad 19 was coming to an end.

Time
: 8:26 a.m. January 28, 2071

Location
: The Wastelands

Obi and Ajax knelt patiently under a sheet of torn canvas shaking violently in the wind. For a second Obi took his eyes off the terrain and looked over at the massive frame of Ajax beside him.

He
recalled all the times the monstrous man saved his life in other battles, before the buzzing of the Scorpion engines tore his eyes back to the black top.
He gripped his rocket launcher and tucked it under his shoulder, nodding at Ajax as he began to crawl under the metal planks of the trailer.

I’m
only going to get one shot at this.