A Titanium Smile

Chapter 1

I’m feeling like a hero racing towards my extinction.

Brient McCallum stepped out of the stately offices of Klunk and Dumpf: Barristers, Solicitors, Attorneys at Law and Notaries Public Inc. Their swank office entrance was on the main pedestrian level of the Legum’s Concourse.

Had the firm been named K & D Legal Services., they would have saved millions on signs and stationary. They probably needed the large negative number on their corporate Balance Sheet.

The caustic smells of traffic and industry drowned the organic smell of the ocean. Ultra modern cities became ‘Big Smokes’ when there were nearly 8 million souls dwelling in them. The city Brient called home was Big Smoke 12 or New Van.

New Van was the most picturesque of all the Post-Cataclysm cities in Muiriccia. Its backyard was a mountain range while its front yard was an ocean. It and the other new cities were constructed from materials recycled from thousands of empty old places. Cities that were emptied by the Cataclysm…

Aside from a 50 year old spat with the Neo-Ropan Empire; Muiriccia had good relations with all the other surviving nations on planet XimoX. In truth, there was little choice but to be co-operative in the wake of the Cataclysm.

McCallum pulled a quick and nutritious Wondra™ Bar from his belt pouch. He had no time for sit down lunch breaks. He munched the meal bar while he unlocked the go-ped from the safety stall.

He looked up at the Network hologram and was reminded that he needed a flu shot. The citizens in Big Smoke 8 were suffering from a nasty virus. The Zoo-Flu was not epidemic but the fatality rate was significant for older citizens. With Cease Fire Day celebrations immanent -- Trans-city migration would increase as people visited family for the holidays. The virus would spread.

He had been trying to arrange an inoculation into his very busy schedule but there never seemed to be enough time.

Brient flicked on the power and zipped out into the movement lanes. The rush was on for the next delivery. The meeting with Dumpf Jr. had him so upset that he was traveling too fast. He swerved neatly to avoid a collision.

A moment of panic struck him. He wondered if he took the delivery package from Dumpf’s office. That was the worse thing one could do as a courier.

Electronic eavesdropping was common practice in the never ending state of war between Neo-Ropa and Muiriccia. In response to full spectrum eavesdropping, the Data Chip was invented. The Data Chip was loaded with data by the writer then physically transported to the data reader site. It could not be viewed by anything other than the one of a kind matched reader. A time limit was set on the data chip like a parking meter. Once the time transpired the chip died. This system allowed for a secure method of transferring sensitive data.

McCallum was a very good Chip courier. He never missed an assignment. He never missed a shift. He was a precise instrument of delivery. However that day he was unfocused. The news of his pending court case rattled him.

His mandatory legum, Dumpf Jr., advised that if he were to be found guilty, a three month Vacation-without-pay sentence would be imposed.

Brient grumbled loudly to no one, God’s Teeth -- a three month Vacation! What am I supposed to do with a three month vacation?

McCallum returned his attention to the task of negotiating the pedestrian thorough fares. It was crowded. Many go-peds, cyclists, boarders, and handicapped vehicles were using the PED lanes. He switched on the micro Perendev motor and accelerated sharply left.

The RedPed lane was his objective. This was the high speed lane where cyclists, moped, go-ped, motorbladers and motor boarders could open up.

The heavy motor vehicle lanes were in a terrible state as usual. Brient glanced up at the hologram intersection sign. He glanced at the camera drone’s view of the lanes ahead. The haze created by bio-burning heavy vehicles was noticeable.

The all too familiar sound of screeching tire, crunching impact and tinkling debris filled the local. The smell of burning rubber and plastic caused Brient’s nose to wrinkle in apprehension of a sneeze. He felt the ground shudder and glanced over his left shoulder. He saw the concrete divider wall buckle under tremendous force.

McCallum hit the super booster button and blew the go-ped past 108 km per hour. He felt the concussion wave and nearly lost control. His valiant struggle to fight the speed wobble was strengthened by fear. A large unpleasant looking thermal doughnut was radiating towards him. His adrenaline system, like the Micro Perendev motor, was pushing maximum. It took everything he had to control the go-ped. His legs felt like jelly. He felt the heat growing.

21st Avenue Ped lane connected the Professionals Concourse to sea level. The section Brient was traveling crested and then became a steep downhill grade. He ripped over the transition and was temporarily airborne. Below him was the ocean. He could see drone ships dotting the horizon.

The steep slope saved Brient from a severe burn. He turned off both of the drive motors and let the go-ped coast down hill.

After a few million pico-seconds he flicked on the charger. The effect of turning the Perendev motors into a generator acted as a brake. The go-ped slowed down admirably despite his speed and the steep slope of the road.

The adrenaline’s after effects were upon him and he had to get off the scooter. McCallum pulled a sharp right to the green lane and off the thorough fare. He dumped his go-ped in the stall then collapsed on the bench and let the shakes happen -- a symptom of his medical condition.

The smell of burning plastic and cellulose followed him. He caught his reflection in the mirror-glass of the Ped stall. The back of his riding jacket was smoldering. Tiny tendrils of acrid riding armour wafted out of him. His hair was burnt.

He gave a screech of surprise and hastily peeled off his riding jacket and pants.

A police vang pulled up beside the go-ped stall. A vang was slightly larger than 2 motorcycles stuck together. It was totally enclosed and had 4 wheels. They were the fastest allowable machines in the PED lanes. The door of the vang opened like a vulture’s wing.

A cop dressed in black armour spilled out of the small vehicle. He approached and stood in front of Brient. He looked at the smoldering armour and then looked back at him with a frown.

You were clocked at over 100 kms per hour in the PED lanes, he barked.

Yes officer I had to go that fast to escape the explosion, McCallum calmly replied.

And you left the scene of an accident… the cop accused.

Are you suggesting that I should have stopped and been burned to death sir? It’s my guess you would posthumously charge me with a Suicide Statue violation, spoke Brient with a tinge of anger. The Insurance Corp. was not required to pay out for cases of suicide or attempted suicide.

The traffic cop glared at him. You attitude is dangerously close to ‘insubordinate’ citizen. Be very careful how you address me.

Ah, no disrespect intended officer; it's one of the side effects of AD.

You have a medical waiver, was his query.

Yes sir, Brient replied, It’s in my riding jacket. He pointed to the smoldering riding armour on the ground.

The cop picked up the armour and peeled open the inner pocket and pulled out Brient’s ID pouch. He flipped through the various chips and scanned each one with his wrist scanner. His face visibly paled when he read McCallum’s medical waiver. The cop quickly stepped out of arms reach.

Brient was a decorated war hero but killed several of his own in the battle. He simply could not stop firing his gun when the All Clear order was issued. He was so pumped with adrenaline and battle stims that he had no conscious control.

During Brient’s courts martial, all the documentation of his adrenaline dysfunction (or AD) was presented by the army medical corps. His defense Legum attacked the side effects of battle drugs (blaming them for McCallum’s behavior). The Army Medical Corps countered. They released details of McCallum’s condition. Phaechromocytoma was a rare cancer of the adrenaline gland system.

The Med Corps discovered his AD during boot camp. They would not give him a medical waiver - even though he mangled a couple of his squaddies during an episode. The cop knew better. He stayed outside McCallum’s reach.

Brient could see that the cop was visibly perplexed. If he did not charge McCallum with something, Brient’s employer could apply to garnishee the ‘productive’ time lost from the cop’s pay.

Brient let him squirm for a few more minutes.

No need to mention the time lost. Brient spoke.

Relief spread across the policeman’s face. How the power had shifted. The cop was clearly strapped into the monster indebtedness that the law required. The idea of losing pay was a deterrent from continuing.

What happened back there? Who did the big fire ball, Brient asked.

It’s really too early to tell but it looks like another Mucker attack, the cop replied curtly.

Network News portrayed the Muckers as a group of anihilistic zero-ists. Their only goal was to suicide in such a spectacular manner as to cause as much mayhem as possible. They never made any political demands.

Brient did not believe ‘Muckers’ were an organization as was the ‘Official Position’. He could not deny that there were XimoXians ending their lives via spectacular suicides. However, many more XimoXians were killing themselves quietly. Suicide was a major cause of death -- competing with heart disease and cancer for the top spot. Brient didn’t care about people who ended their own lives. Suicide was common since the Cataclysm -- people would rather die quickly than undergo years of agony to some uncurable cancer.

Brient grew angry with those whose suicides deliberately killed others. Mucker’s! Those fugazi…, was all Brient’s adrenaline wracked body could utter. The full force of the AD reaction was upon him. The cop retreated another meter.

Well citizen, duty calls, was the officer’s quick reply -- he loped back to his vang.

Brient’s rage increased exponentially. Adrenaline was flowing from his traffic accident escape. The injustice of being charged with a Consumer Law violation, added with the officer’s attempts at charging him for surviving the accident, produced even more adrenaline. There was too much go-juice coursing through his blood.

The last images to pass before his conscious mind were those generated by the giant Network hologram. McCallum relived the accident through a camera drone’s replay. The talking holo-head was saying it was the most fatal traffic accident on record. Then it thanked Wondra™ Food products for their sponsorship.

The red haze descended over his eyes and out went the lights.

~~~

Chapter 2

Energy, energy where did you go?

All of the autos parked row upon row.

We fueled up the bombers, we fueled up the jeeps.

We piled all the bodies in orderly heaps.

Our grandkids are crying – we left them with naught.

We wasted tomorrow with wars we have fought.

Increasing reliance on favors from God...

You know that our rulers won’t spare us the rod.

We rush from the work place with no time to think.

Drowning what’s left with too much to drink.

Meaningful data not ours to debate…

Some how it’s commerce that gets to dictate.

Corrupted democracy cut down the trees.

One plus one don't equal three. (Pre-Cat Graffiti)

Perspiration rolled down Mahboob’s cheek. She looked at the date and time display. 5 days had passed since The Council’s orders. The plan had been passed on to every citizen in the city; she was merely doing her part.

She trembled. It had to end sometime! Her determination to do her part was absolute. There was no way any one would accept the terms of capitulation.

We are not meat-sicles.

When the first and only independent satellite was launched in over a century - there was cause to celebrate. It was the first civilian launch platform that did not require the use of a controlled explosion thruster.

The payload did not contravene any of the International laws set to limit orbital weapons platforms. The size of the satellite did not contravene and international conventions nor did the purpose of the instrument payload.

Mile High City led Muiriccia in Bio-Diversity developments. It was a hub of science and reason. City 13 was blessed for location. It suffered harsh winter and high altitude. Both conditions seemed to deter the fungus proliferation within the city’s eco-sphere.

The satellite instrument package was nothing more than elaborate chromatography. It was designed to investigate the green colour spectrum. It was a necessary tool for establishing the big picture of progress. The Botanical Restocking Alliance of Corporations funded the satellite.

The first of the satellite’s data stream showed what the Bio-Diversity Cartographers’ could only approximate. Then data got skewed by the tenth and last pass before the orbit disintegrated. The bird melted upon re-entry as it was designed.

The data that the satellite uncovered indicated that both Neo-Ropa and Muiriccia were in violation of the Accord. Both continents had more cities than allowed by treaty.

All we did was look at the pattern of green across Muiriccia.

And discovered the pattern of not green where previous data indicated green.

The Neo-Ropan’s were outraged. They claimed to have evidence that the satellite violated every international law signed since the Accord. The army stepped in and demanded shared access to the new data. The science community was more than eager to share. Then the military establishment declared the data sensitive to the national security of Muiriccia - using the hostile reaction of Neo-Ropa as justification.

Events between the two continents turned violent in relatively short time. City 13 was quarantined under the premise of a viral attack from Neo-Ropa. The city council turned its focus to hardening the city for war.

Once the diplomatic hostilities erupted between the 14 Cities and Neo-Ropa, there was a rash of mysterious deaths within City 13's governance. The city's Coroners discovered the implants. It didn't take long to connect the dots -- the hideous purpose for the inhabitants of the 14 Cities was exposed.

The city governors believed in an informed population and passed on the gruesome discoveries to their citizens. With the revelation of human harvesting, citizens of City 13 became outraged. The Retaliation plan was proposed and approved.

The citizens of Mile High city were cleansed of the deadly implants. Stealthily the City was stripped of subliminal projection systems. The Neutron bomb Sterilizing system was discovered and covertly co-opted. However these actions only bought a couple of months.

The siege noose had been inexorably drawn about the city. It was only a matter of time before the military establishment entered City 13.

Mahboob Hashasseen won the Retaliation lottery. She became the dead man’s switch. She would trigger the Neutron bomb sterilization and City 13 would become a perplexing memory.

A drop of perspiration from her forehead slipped down her cheek. It felt like cold jelly. Mahboob was in a super heightened tension state, the drop of icy sweat sent a shock. She trembled slightly and the droplet fell to the floor.

Not all citizens agreed to the Retaliation. Those that did not agree to the Retaliation were allowed to leave the city. They surrendered to the Military Quarantine. The city drone cameras witnessed the end of these poor souls as they fled Outside.

They were all rounded up, sleep gassed then dragged to retrieval tents. Military Retrieval teams clad in bio-hazard safety suits ‘Harvested’ them rapidly. There was no doubt what fate was in store for the citizens of City 13.

The Military Quarantine battalion had cut the optic communication cables which linked the City 13 to the other fourteen Cities. There was no way to tell the grisly story in Mahboob’s time. Prior to cutting the communication links, the rail link to the other cities was blockaded at Gazziz Hub. There weren't any highways connecting the cities due to the Restoration Treaty. Automobiles were tightly limited outside Cities.

All data compiled by City 13 archives were transferred to the Vault. A team of two thousand citizens made their way surreptitiously to the Vault over a few months.

Mahboob was one of the chosen. She was the only one of her family to be part of the Vault. She tried not to think of them being dissected. Since body parts were the ambition, the citizens of City 13 vowed that no one would get them.

Mahboob was a random switch. Medicos had calculated how long an adolescent female could physically stand holding her hands on the pedestals. However, the calculation was only approximate.

She could not move too far or lie down. She was plugged into a catheter and colostomy drain. An intravenous drip system kept her from dehydration and starvation. This was her fifth day of deathwatch.

Behind the dead man pedestals was the solitary steel desk. Upon it a bottle of water and two pills - a large red pill and a tiny green one.

Sleep deprivation brought hallucinations. The red pill looked monstrously large.

She wanted to lie down and sleep but could not. The combination of her smells after 5 days was rough. The catheter and colostomy drain itched and hurt. Her feet were cold and sore too.

The temperature had just dropped to below 10 degrees. She was shivering -- part of the sleep deprivation system. Her skin was cold yet the light cloth of her hospital smock irritated. She was still perspiring.

Any time now, I can’t stand much longer.

The Vault was deeply buried in the mountain's rock beneath City 13. As the last of the Survivors were registered inside the Vault, the entrance tunnel was back-filled with concrete slurry. Mahboob’s 5 day ordeal bought the back-fill crew enough time to complete the job.

The Vault was several square kilometers of hardened survival environment. It used to be a survival shelter in Pre-Cat times. Back-in-the-day global peace was kept by an idea of mutually assured destruction using nuclear weapons.

Nothing was missing for two thousand people to manage for 70 years. They would live to tell the gruesome truth. The sacrifice of the citizens would be repaid.

At precisely 5 days 21 hrs and 53 minutes into Mahboob’s ordeal, Corporal Jaime McCallum was given his marching orders. His unit rushed to the Helios. He and the nearly 300 hundred thousand troops were all that stood to contain an epic viral infection.

The soldiers put on the BioGuard protection systems issued at the LZ. They were told that a virus had been deliberately introduced to City 13 by Neo-Ropan agents. They were told it was slow acting hemorrhagic virus, painful and terminal - yet virulently contagious. A vaccine couldn't be developed in time. Sadly, the only solution was to isolate and neutralize the infected population of City 13.

Corporal J. McCallum had seen the vids of the wretches who were infected. Putting them out of their misery was an act of kindness. He was ready to do the grim job. He thought of his wife and his daughter-to-be. It’s them or us.

Shosho Ardezian finished transmitting the last report to his control officer in Redmond. Shosho was a spook for Redmond Intelligence Committee. He was doomed to the same fate as all others in City 13. He had no operator’s exit plan for this scenario.

Ardezian transmitted the chromatograph imagery that the City 13 scientists had sent to every city resident. He added a two line message, ‘There is no viral outbreak. Meat-sicle scenario confirmed.’ Shosho’s sophisticated satellite up-link was enough to pierce electronic signal jamming imposed by the Military Quarantine.

At precisely 5 days, 22 hrs, 14 minutes and 42 seconds Mahboob fainted. The impact of hitting the floor hurt -- the pain brought her back to consciousness. She gazed up in horror at the pedestals and down at her hands.

She tried to get up and replace her hands on the pedestals. The instructors told her how the system worked. One lifted hand was all it took -- there was no going back.

She was openly crying as she pulled out the intravenous feed, catheter and colostomy drains.

4 silos opened and 4 lifters shot up to a height of 1000 meters above Mile High City.

Corporal Jaime McCallum looked up in bewilderment at the lifters.

Their payloads detonated. Four 50 megaton Neutron bombs blossomed in perfect unison. Within a millisecond, millions of citizens and 300 thousand military personnel blazed into shadows.

Not one building fell.

An intense wind blew and all the scattered bodies went…

Radioactive levels would be too high for anyone to approach. Satellite surveillance equipment could not penetrate the intense radioactive noise. The work of those in the Vault was left undisturbed.

The train ways were closed with massive conventional Thermal bombs. Their detonation happened simultaneously to the Neutron air bursts. The shock waves sent tremors down to the Vault. No XimoXian would dare enter City 13 for a millennium. It would take nearly that long to carve a way through all the vitrified rock.

Mahboob stumbled as the T-bomb tremors resonated into the Vault. She arose and lurched towards the desk. Grasping the desk for support she reached for the bottle of water. The desire to die was overwhelming yet the urge to drink was stronger.

The two pills glowed at her. Red was a quick death and green was life.

Part of her shattered mind watched with horror as her hand moved to enfold the green pill.

No -- no, she shrieked in silence. The hand pushed the pill into the opened mouth of its own volition. The bottle of water followed and with a surge of cool water -- she swallowed life.

She withered up into a little fetal ball under the desk.

As her mind lapsed into unconscious, a sealed door slid open. A bar of light lanced from the opening. It ripped away the dimness of the switch chamber. The light bathed her closed eyelids and phosgene patterns coalesced.

Gentle hands lifted her as easily as a babe.

Unknown to the rest of the world, two thousand and one persons had survived the radioactive firestorm. Each Vault survivor determined to shove the sword of vengeance into the belly of the beast.

~~~

Chapter 3

Truth is a commodity that few can afford.

Brient’s eyes opened to darkness and everything above his chin was pain. The ache reminded him of the side effects from battle dope. He noticed that he was not on the bench near the stall. None of the vague shapes in the dimness were familiar.

He heard voices quietly murmuring in the shadows. A distorted shape emerged from the twilight and stood at the foot of the cot he was lying upon.

Are you in control soldier? Do we trank you again? Respond soldier!

I’m good, I’m good, Brient croaked, trank me again and I will rip your head off.

He understood the pain in his head. The bastards had used knock out gas.

There better be a good reason for this you -- you goof, was the next sentence his aching and drug sodden brain could coordinate.

He heard bitter laughter from the shadows. Great, we save your pathetic life and this is the response we get.

What are you talking about? I was fine on the bench -- I survived the accident Brient croaked again.

Out of the darkness a hand appeared -- holding a glass of water.

It dawned on him that he was dehydrated. His lips were dry and chapped. He could barely speak and his tongue felt like a Louffa sponge. Brient struggled to a sitting position. He grabbed the glass clumsily and took a tentative sip.

The water's not drugged. You've been unconscious for nearly 10 hours. And it was not an accident, spoke the voice from the dimness.

McCallum guzzled the water and held out the glass. More please, he asked his captors.

The mysterious hand appeared again with another full glass. His hand was steady and clasped the offered glass without trembling. He quaffed the second glass of water just as fast as the first.

Thanks.

Brient noticed that the hand which served the water was clean -- unadorned by jewelry, nail polish or tattoo. The voice from the shadows was contralto and hard but unmistakably a woman’s.

Do you have any recall of events after you’ve blacked out, she asked him.

No idea what-so-ever! In the past my squaddies would tell the tales of my exploits, he replied honestly.

When was the last time you had an AD reaction? she grilled.

Nearly 2 years ago. I nearly got run over by a drone transport. I had to haul ass to avoid the accident. Before that incident my last episode was in the army. That action earned my discharge, was Brient’s somewhat reluctant reply.

Ah yes the battle of Redmond. You were given just about every honour an enlisted man could get -- yet you were discharged. That's interesting! You're a war hero without a pension! According to this...

Masha dropped a data chip to the floor and crushed it with her boot.

Did you know that your battle group was never meant to win that fight, She questioned again.

McCallum’s indignation was rising. He sat upright. "OK -- OK, you read up on me -- you know about my past. Who in HelAdes are you? Are you more psy-ops trying to test my loyalty to the great motherland?"

He spluttered. I’ve done my service. Leave me to live my life in peace you Bugs.

Brient could feel the anger rising but his head hurt so much that he grabbed his scull and cursed in pain.

Easy soldier, the woman said, we pulled a couple items out of your head that the Army left behind.

Brient ran his hands over his skull and found the incision at the base where neck and head join.

She slid a stainless steel surgical tray towards him with her foot. She illuminated the trays contents with a hand light. The light hurt his head and he winced. She noticed his reaction to the light.

"Sorry soldier. One