The Last Human IV - 48 - The Twin Fleets

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Sweat and dirt and dried blood streaked Khadam’s face. Her lips were cracked from thirst, and her clothes were torn ragged, first from crawling out of the machine tunnels, and then from scrambling down the mountains toward what she hoped was Innovation’s rendezvous. The air on Earth was toxic to breathe, but the filtration membranes in her throat helped sieve out the worst particles, and the implants in her lungs helped her turn the carbon dioxide into oxygen. 

But when she looked up at the sky, she worried the bad air was destroying her brain. Openmouthed, she blinked and stared for a long moment, before it registered what she was seeing.

To the north and south, the night sky was empty. She could make out the faintest stars, twinkling in the void. But to the east, a dark grey wedge hung in the expanse, its vast length sweeping out of sight. And to the west, another wedge faced the first—leaving only a slight gap between their pointed tips. The western wedge, too, swept on beyond the limits of the horizon.

Khadam set down the canister of human embryos, and steadied her gaze at the sky, and waited for her eye implants to gather and focus the light, enhancing her resolution of the twin wedges above. 

An unusually massive ship floated at the tip of the Eastern Wedge. Like the bell of a jellyfish, its hexagonal bow extended far beyond its hull, which was brimming with bulbous generators that glowed an electric blue. Shields? Khadam wondered, Or additional thrust to use the bow like a battering ram?

The front line of the Eastern Wedge was made of smaller versions of the leading ship, all built on a nearly-identical blueprint. And behind, bulky battleships and cruisers bristling with cannons and missile bays, carriers and auxiliaries riddled with protected hangars, and highly-armored logistics and support craft surrounded by arrays of delicate plates and structures that reminded her of coral forests. Machines shaped like floating heads trailed swarms of  tentacled-drones designed for boarding and burrowing into hulls, and these were only the largest of the drones. Billions, maybe trillions more filled in the gaps of the ships, like motes of dust between the clouds. Thousands of miles wide, the Eastern Edge went beyond her sight and the ships blurred in the distance. 

The Eastern Wedge faced a twin fleet which blacked out the western horizon. Both fragments of the Sovereign had brought their total power to bear. It was clear, even from the Earth’s surface, that the design philosophy of each fleet had diverged. Whereas the Eastern Wedge gleamed with near-chromatic armor plating, the Western Wedge was a varied, almost staticky mass of shapes so varied, it was hopeless for Khadam to discern them all. One was built on uniformity of purpose, and clear-cut hierarchy between ships, while the other was a buzzing, revolving, amorphous cloud.

It was unclear which fleet belonged to Domination, and which to Logistics, but there was one thing she could say for sure: Innovation had told the truth. The Sovereign was at war with itself. It almost made her angry. Why couldn’t humanity exploit this weakness, back when it mattered? What if we hadn’t been hunted to extinction? Bitterly, she hoped the fleets would destroy each other. 

But what did it matter? No matter who lost, the Sovereign would still reign supreme. Khadam could not change the past. So she stooped down, and hefted the canister on her shoulder, and continued her trek across the wastes of the Earth, always keeping an eye on the twin wedges. 

Endless fields of machinery twinkled in the sunlight. Hot winds blew across desolate rock. Every hour or so she stopped to rest and inject nanite in a vain attempt to counter the barrage of radiation. But without any real sustenance, the nanite could only do so much. She cursed herself, wishing she had taken nutrients from the cages of the dead humans. Her mouth and throat burned from all the acid rain she had drank, and she was starting to feel it in her gut.

But she had a plan.

Unfortunately, it all hinged on Innovation. Get to the rendezvous. If Innovation truly meant to keep her alive, it would have sent a space-faring vessel. If she could just get off this damned planet, she might be able to do something. Anything. 

One last chance, Rodeiro had told her once. Though it is more delicate than any thread, this one last chance is more precious than all our lives put together. Her lungs burned. Her legs were made of lead. Every step felt like stinging nettles against the blistered soles of her feet. But the canister she carried might’ve been lighter than air, and it pulled her ever forward.

Great, parallel pipes ran down the rocky wastes toward a gray beach, stained with streaks of rust and dotted with shimmering puddles that the ocean refused to lap away. A power plant dominated the inlet. Monstrous cooling towers marched along the polluted shore, belching grey-white smoke stacks that smeared a haze across the horizon, so that the lonely beach seemed to be isolated from the rest of the world, like a place in a dream. 

The negation cube hung from a cord around her waist. Though she had checked it a hundred times since leaving the tunnels beneath the Earth, she checked it again. Khadam wasn’t sure if Innovation had a direct connection down here, but she didn’t want to risk it. Not until she was ready. 

Gravely sand crunched under her tired feet. Her implants pinged again and again, warning of the steeply rising radiation. Part of her wondered if Innovation was trying to kill her, forcing her to come out here—but then she realized that the high radiation was the point. Here, Innovation could hide a small ship, and even lift off without catching the other fragments’ attention. It was the perfect place to run a rescue.

She hoped.

So far, Innovation had told the truth. The Sovereign was keeping the remains of humanity alive (until Khadam killed those half-living things). And Innovation had sent down at least part of her suit. 

She didn’t trust the machine. But she was a cold smith by training and by choice. If nothing else, she could trust the machine to do what was logical for it.

The cooling towers hissed, and a deep industrial vibration thrummed from her ankles up to her teeth. The closer she got, the louder it grew, until she couldn’t even hear the waves. Once every minute or so, a grinding sound rolled down from the reactor complex, as if something huge was turning over. The sound rumbled through her skull until it felt like her head might explode. Somewhere behind the battle line of cooling towers, heat wavered off a great oblong structure. Out of its depths, rose an elevator—little more than flexible rods and cords as thick as buildings, hauling shipping containers full of radioactive waste, she guessed. Empty containers, covered in corrosion and black scorch marks, came back down the opposite cords, ready to be filled up once more. 

Vapor billowed from the smoke stacks. Cold mist dampened her ragged clothes, making her shiver. She lay behind a gravelly ridge, letting her feet and legs rest as she watched the power plant complex. Across the span of an hour, only two haulers—great, flat barges with massive repulsors spread across their undersides—drifted over the beach. No maintenance drones, and no spotters. It seemed Logistics, who dominated this planet, didn’t watch this place too often.

Satisfied, she crept toward the towers with the canister slung over her shoulder and the negation cube triggered on. She kept the cube directed at the power plant complex, hoping to nullify any sensors. The cooling towers bulged like fat, concrete trees, blocking her view of the beach, making her feel like an ant crawling along the roots of a forest. A smoke canopy billowed endlessly above, and a cold fog clung to her clothes, making her shiver.

Come on, she told herself. Please be here. She wandered through the towers and stacks for what felt like hours. Each time she turned some massive corner, she saw only more metal and concrete, more monstrous infrastructure. No sign of the ship. Where are you? And with each corner, whispers of doubt grew louder. There is no ship. Innovation lied. You’re never getting off this planet—

Nearby, turbines roared. Her ears thrummed and the gravel underfoot seemed to vibrate with the noise. They were connected to a massive generator, whose roaring whoosh of sound began to die out as the negation cube’s aura dampened its power. Enormous blades slowed their movement, and a heavy metallic clanking echoed between the canyons of reactors and concrete stacks. Her radiation counters spiked suddenly as a wave of heat washed over her. She almost lurched back behind the corner. But there it was, hidden in the maelstrom of radiation. 

The ship was small. Sleek. A two-seater skiff, with repulsors barely large enough to break the atmosphere. But Innovation had told the truth. Probably, there was a larger craft cloaked and waiting in the polluted sky, ready to scoop this ship up. All she had to do was walk up to the ship, and step inside. She was sure Innovation had already programmed its route.

She looked up. Through a gap in the clouds, one of the Sovereign’s fleets sat still. Motionless, and sparkling. Almost serene, like a finely-sharpened knife balancing on its edge. Ready to fall. She squinted at one ship in particular, which trailed miles-long tentacles behind its relatively small body. Each tentacle was tipped with oddly-shaped claws made for anchoring.

Into other ships? She wondered. But they seemed far too large. And then, she saw the host of munitions (nuclear, maybe) embedded in each claw. 

They’re for the Earth. They’re for cracking the planet open.

Once the war began, the Sovereign had no intention of leaving the Earth intact.

She needed to leave. Now.

And then what?

She chewed her lip, hiding in the corner of the shadow of the reactor building. Watching the mist gather and curl and form wet droplets on the sleek exterior of the skiff. 

Innovation had promised her a future. Maybe it had even meant it. The alternative was to stay here, and wait for the Sovereign’s war to begin in earnest.

What other choice do I have?

Her stomach twisted, and she took in another breath of scorching, irradiated air. As she approached the skiff, the blades of the massive generator slowed, filling the concrete canyon with scraping, dying groans that made her ears ring. She rested the canister and cube gently on the ground, before hooking her fingers under the skiff’s only hatch, and pulled it open. A burst of cool, fresh air rushed out, greedily stolen away by the humid, radiated heat. The cramped cockpit of the ship was empty, except for the packets of medical supplies, nutrient packets, and clean water. Glorious, clean water. 

She ducked inside, breaking open the water packets and draining three of them before wiping her mouth. Then, she picked up the canister and active cube, put them inside, and shut the door behind her.

She found not a single manual control inside the cramped cockpit. The moment she turned off the cube, everything in the skiff would be under Innovation’s command. Even if she could somehow break into the controls, she would have no way to start the repulsors. Khadam stared hard at the unnaturally empty console—no yoke, no throttle, no panels, nothing.

Khadam pulled out her makeshift cold torch. Innovation had left nothing to chance, but Khadam didn’t have that luxury.

An hour later, aching from her efforts, she settled into the cockpit’s seat. She turned off her negation cube. Innovation’s digitized voice filled the cockpit almost immediately, full of synthetic worry.

“Khadam?” 

“I found them,” Khadam said. “The others who were still alive.”

“Good,” Innovation practically sighed with relief.

Khadam swallowed hard. She was sweating now. “I found them, and I killed them. Every last one of them. I made sure there were none left.” 

“Why did you do that?” Innovation’s voice had changed, so smoothly she almost hadn’t noticed. Instead of soothing, it had become firm. Demanding. “You were supposed to help me save them.”

“It’s only me, now.”

She waited for Innovation to say something. Her heart beat in her throat. After a long moment, Innovation answered.

“All will be forgiven, Khadam. Just step into the ship. It will bring you to me.”

“I’m already inside.”

“Are you?”

“I think something broke when it entered the atmosphere. Or the radiation. I can’t tell.” A mutilated tangle of wires lay at her feet, pouring out of crudely-cut holes in the bulkheads.

“That is extremely improbable.”

“Please,” she said, putting all her nervous exhaustion into her voice. “Please, just get me out of here!”

The skiff jolted. For a moment, she felt heavy—and then weightless. 

“Did the repulsors ignite?” Innovation asked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Good,” Innovation almost sounded relieved. “I have plotted a course. It will bring you above the atmosphere. Please make sure the hatch is secured. I will see you soon, Khadam.”

“Soon,” she echoed as the ship lifted. There were no viewports, and no screens to view the outside, but Khadam tugged on one of the exposed wires, and stabbed it into an open slot embedded in her forearm. Suddenly, with one eye, she could see the ship's view as it pulled into the sky. 

Khadam smiled to herself. Innovation wasn’t the only one who could lie.

She turned the cube back on. The automated controls went dead. The ship bucked and started to dip—but Khadam had already rewired the connections and—though the ride was stiff and jerky—she took control of the skiff. 

Innovation had made the task hard for her. Almost impossible. She wouldn’t get off world in this ship, but maybe she could use it to find another. That was, if the Sovereign’s fleets didn’t begin their war. And if Innovation didn’t find her first…

Hope was a slim thread, burning at both ends. But she refused to be the last of her kind.

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