• View
• Edit
• History
• Print

ConferenceCall

(Continued from http://mousehole-mouse.blogspot.com/2015/09/what-hells-point-of-this-story.html The blue text is from the original book)

Krystall switched to the other call.

"Can't we just get Chloe Williams out? Maybe if I-"

"No, I'd like to, but she's too high-profile. We countermand the order for her execution, we'll have a lot of people rooting around. Not good. Can't afford it."

"Uh... Can we slip her some painkillers at least?"

"Krystall, I realize it sounds cold, but why bother? She's going to get a quick beheading and then go to whatever their Heaven looks like. We need the resources. The minute she's dead, we're in austerity mode."

A different voice. "We can't spare one dose of morphine? Come on."

A sigh at the other end of the line. "Fine. Krystall, Dr. Rose, you win. We'll send a courier."

"Oh, one of the Christian kids was here. Helped me find the recorder. I shared a bit of intel."

"Get anything in return?"

"Not really. They haven't talked to anyone in Petra lately, but they seem to be in a holding pattern over there."

The Foreman was worried. Whoever would take over the Co-Op after Chloe's death was unlikely to be as level-headed as Chloe Williams had been. When the whole mess started, the fledgling CATS operation had an easy time locating New Hope Village Church's parallel attempt at a parallel economy; catching Chloe between prayer sessions, they managed to work out an agreement of mutual silence and mutual cooperation for the sake of keeping as many people alive as long as possible, regardless of affiliation. As the plagues and judgements fell, the relationship changed; while in the beginning the flow of resources mostly went from CATS to the Co-Op, lately the tendency had inverted. This, of course, had been known from the start and factored in, but with Chloe gone, there was no guarantee that the next Co-Op coordinator wouldn't find some flimsy theology to rationalize breaking the deal. Like most thing, they'd have to handle it if it happened.

"Heh. We're losing a war against a bunch of do-nothings. I miss the old Nicholae. A one-world government run by someone who isn't bound by ideology... it could have worked if , you know, physics. By the way, Krystall, I want you ready for an evac. Have you practiced with the sonic hat?"

"Yeah. I can make my way out of the dark zone."

"Bring who you can, but you know, opportunistic. We're entering the end game. Sav- Rescue yourself first, and anyone else only if it's safe."

"Got it, Foreman."

"Thanks. Dr. Rose, about your biopsy reports?"

The Foreman listened in. The sonic hat worked just fine in the dark zone - ultrasonic sensors, cell phone vibration motors, and a baseball cap. It couldn't let you see, but it could let you avoid obstacles and it was an order of magnitude cheaper than the night-vision equipment that had been handed over to essential personnel in New Babylon, and could be built quickly from existing parts. CATS had distributed the schematics and tried to do a production run, but after all the disasters, any sort of large scale production for anything nonessential had become all but impossible.

They tried. At first, they succeeded. For every ghastly "miracle" of plague or poison, people and ships and trucks and technology moved into action, almost an entire planet's war machine repurposed for fighting fire or flood. Even now, years into the Tribulation, the world still had a semblance of modern infrastructure. At least some factories functioned, at least some stores sold their wares, in Nicks rather than dollars or yuan. The Foreman got the impression that some of this had been counterproductive - there had to be people out there who thought that everything was well and produce still magically appeared in supermarkets.

Given how... selective... the laws of physics had been lately, the Foreman thought with an inner snarl, it's probably what the Christians are experiencing.

".... and Mark removal surgery remains effective only while the patient is under direct human observation. Recording equipment and mirrors won't do the trick. As soon as we look away, the Mark returns to its seat, including the RFID chip. That's all we got so far."

"Thank you, Dr. Rose. I think this is it for now. Anyone else?"

The next voice was faint and broken by static. "Hasina here. No way in. I walked all the way to Petra, no weapons."

"Casualties?"

"Not enough. Nobody dead, as per instructions, don't worry. I made it to the north gate of the Old City, and found myself staring at the suburbs past the south gate. Walked through a couple of times, just to make sure."

"Right. We'll send a survey team to determine if it's superluminal or not. Set up somewhere in the suburbs and keep an eye out for Empyreans. Our RPVs got some sightings."

Hasina Kamen, callsign Rider. The woman who beat an angel to death... or until it physically disappeared, anyway. Taylor's death had hit her incredibly hard. CATS recruiters found her trying to literally dig a hole through Hell - they thought she was burying her victims, both GC camp guards and Christian zealots. She asked for a motorcycle and some armor, said she'd share her findings, and embarked on a one-woman crusade. One important finding: Empyreans, or angels, could not be interacted with by technology. But they could touch you, and you could touch them. In her case, this became a primal wrestling match to the death.

"Why do we even care? Speed of light or not... why do we even care what goes on in Petra? How does this help us fight, Foreman?"

"We're close to the end game. We won't have time for much in the way of redundant plans. The more we know, the better our guess for Plan A will be."

"Right. I'm going horizontal for a few hours. Going hunting after that. Have your camera crew ready."

Supernatural effects stayed on tape whether they wanted to or not, and no way around it - but the Foreman was hoping to get more than the existing few precious shots of Hasina fighting. Other than the obvious morale boost in knowing that the messengers of the One Above All could be wrestled with, could be fought, it provided data. At this point, that's all the Foreman was after. A way to fight.

"Sorry for cutting in, Rider, Foreman - this is RPV control. We still can't get more than glancing video from Petra, but..."

"Yeah?"

"Uhm, Rider - they felt it. When you ran through screaming."

The Foreman smiled for a moment. Of course she did. "What do you mean?"

"It tripped two car alarms, and showed up on one of the cell phone towers we still have in there, piezo sensor."

"Thanks. Will try again louder." A hiss indicated that Hasina had turned off her radiophone.

"We seem to be doing pretty good with sound, Foreman" Krystall commented. "Two out of two so far."

The Foreman agreed before giving a few quick orders and closing the conference call. He'd have to check with Theology, but... In the beginning was the word. The old Jewish man who unwittingly provided the GC, and by extension CATS, with the only reliable intel from within Petra by broadcasting his ranting sermons over and over again said something about the Word of the Lord being a Sword, or something like that.

Sound.

In the former factory that held what passed for the headquarters of the Custodial Arrangement of Telecom Systems, the Foreman got up and headed over to the theology lab. They'd need a live specimen. Hasina was the only one with a success record so far, and well... Hmm. Maybe if the Foreman was to present it to her as an "interrogation", she could be talked into pulling her punches.