Mechanical (20 page)

They reached East 14
th
Street and Tom was amazed at what he saw there. If he weren’t piloting his Serpent, his mouth would have dropped open in surprise. In fact, his jaw would have bounced off the carefully brushed sidewalks. The street lamps in the street were more numerous and Tom noticed the graffiti on the walls. Or, rather, its absence. Someone had recently put a lot of effort to wipe out every graffiti painting on walls and concrete fences. Why? Why would the enemy care about that? Some walls were even freshly painted. It was eerie.

East 14
th
Street was just as alien as everything else Tom had seen so far in New York City. The many small stores were all gone. Their signs and billboards had been cleanly removed. Their large windowpanes remained, through which could be seen mostly crates, canned food and other supplies in ordered stacks. The place Tom's computer indicated should have held a United States post office held nothing. It was just an empty building.

Again, they moved inside a heavily inhabited area, with buildings on all sides, all staring down at the Serpent with black, empty eyes. The Serpents moved more carefully now, taking care to place every clawed foot on the concrete sidewalks slowly and silently. The streets were so clean they did not have to worry about stepping on something, but one loud noise might bring the city down on them. In the terrible silence of the streets, even the light breezes wailed loudly and menacingly.

Captain Emerson suddenly flattened himself against a building, his huge gaunt Serpent pressing itself against a store's empty entrance, blending in with the relative darkness. He was a dark thing trying to hide inside a dark city. Tom looked around desperately for a place to hide.
They even took out the bus stations!
Then he zoomed in on something and sprang sideways to hide behind a stairway leading up to a residential building.

Tom could now hear what had made the captain hide. The whining of approaching motorcycles was heard. Tom moved, trying to wedge himself deeper into his cover, but a moment later, the motorcycle whine had moved away. The group had only passed nearby, probably across 2
nd
Avenue.

"Move out," Captain Emerson sent out, and the four spiked, black shadows detached themselves from the night and continued stalking down the street.

Tom glanced to his right. He was right next to a five-story residential building. Even at two thirty in the morning there should have been some sign of life—a radio, a television, someone coughing or a baby crying. Or a light where an early riser was preparing to go to work. But there was nothing.

Tom approached the building. With his Serpent's height, he could just pull himself up and peep into a bedroom window to see—

"Sir!"

Tom resumed advancing down the street, but he still glanced at the dark empty windows all around them.

"Spread out. Sergeant Jebadiah, perimeter watch. Lieutenant Ramirez, scout our inside route. Go!"

They had reached their goal: a tall corporate building that housed the power control center in its middle floors. Tom crouched under the building while Sergeant Jebadiah melted into the shadows, and Lieutenant Ramirez placed his rifle in his socket on his left leg, straightened up and jabbed his fingers into the building's side. Then, he jabbed the fingers of his left hand higher into the building and he easily pulled himself up this way, the electric motors of his Serpent barely registering any effort.

The lieutenant needed less than a minute to reach a terrace on the building's tenth floor, his many sharp antennas moving slowly in an exquisite dance that somehow emitted violence. Once there, he disappeared from sight.

"Clear," came Ramirez's message a moment later.

Tom climbed the building, taking care to stay away from any windows, and joined Ramirez on the tenth-floor terrace. Captain Emerson joined them a moment later, which made Tom very glad because Ramirez was just crouching near a metal door leading inside the building, staring at Tom.

"Ramirez, clear the floor. Move."

Ramirez's Serpent easily pulled the metal door off its hinges and entered the building, moving too silently for something so large and lethal. Before entering, he raised one finger from each hand, brandishing them like switchblade knives. Only when he was gone was Tom was to look around him. The terrace was covered with flowers, carefully groomed and watered, now trampled under the claws of the Serpents.

"All clear," Ramirez's message came through their short-range radio link, and Tom followed Captain Emerson into the building, noticing two security cameras that Ramirez had previously destroyed.

Folded down, Tom moved through the ugly beige corridors till he came to the control center itself. Tom took care not to look at the bloody remains of three people, nor at the dripping claws of Ramirez, but the sight didn’t prey on his mind the way he feared blood would. He just ignored it and went on his business.

The control center itself was a large oval room with displays on the walls showing the status of the Manhattan electrical grid, including malfunctions, short circuits, infrastructure problems or consumption anomalies. Tom would have grimaced if his immobile Serpent face had allowed. Even the building’s spotless corridors and control room were swamped with plants. Nice, groomed potted plants, but plants nonetheless, giving a nice contrast to the smashed security cameras in the control center.

Unrelenting demand for cleanliness and plants on the streets and inside the buildings is sought.
Tom thought it should have told him something about the enemy, but he couldn’t really understand it at all. Some of the flowers, particularity the orchids, were quite nice though.

Tom moved a body aside without thinking—something that would have surprised him if he had had time to notice it—and sat down in front of the main console situated in the middle of the large control center.

“Thirty minutes left,” Captain Emerson sent.

Yeah,
thought Tom. It was great sitting in front of a computer again, though he had to fold himself down and tear the chair out of the floor to fit next to it. Tom’s hands, with their long, black, curved dagger-like fingers, hovered above the console’s keyboard. This was the first time he had a chance to work at a computer since he started piloting the Serpent, just three days ago.

            It felt great.

            Tom tentatively touched a key on the keyboard with the finesse of a pianist trying to play a piano made of wet clay. Then, he touched another, and then he really started working, sighing with relief. Applying the minimum amount of pressure, the keyboard responded beautifully.

            Unsurprisingly, there was no lock or password. No one expected an attack here, Tom thought. He started going through the various control screens the computer offered him.
The control application is programmed in old MFC technology,
Tom thought.
No matter.

            It took Tom several moments to locate the screens he was after. Ramirez passed through the control center twice, patrolling the building and breaking Tom’s concentration each time.

            “Five minutes to go,” Captain Emerson sent.

           
What?
Tom looked uncomprehendingly at his screen.
How did time fly so fast?

            At last. Power consumption history graphs. Tom found a detailed graph and played with the settings to find the information he was looking for.

           
Let’s see. Almost all power consumption went way down three years ago, when the enemy attacked, then gradually consumption started increasing. Public buildings are now at the level they were before the attack, except the schools. Subways dipped to nothing three years ago and slowly returned to normal levels. Housing and private consumption is at normal levels. Commercial and light industrial consumption has also resumed levels approaching normal. Street lights and Manhattan infrastructure are also at normal levels. Traffic lights are gone, which is no surprise, since probably all have been pulled out.

            So, no abnormal power consumption is noticed. Everything is at it should be. Nothing drains more than it should.

            Tom tried splicing the data according to districts. The Financial District buildings showed a marked increase from their state before the enemy attacked. The other districts, though their consumption level increased, didn't really reach their pre-enemy level.

            “Multiple contacts! Motorcycle groups heading towards us. Lights on Park Avenue, Third Avenue and West 14
th
Street approaching fast,” Sergeant Jebadiah’s message was terse.

            Tom jumped from his console, unfolding to his full height and bringing his power core to maximum output, his frightened, hurried movements tearing the control console from its place and creating a small fountain of leaping sparks.

            The enemy had discovered them.

Day Four, Power Control Center on East 14
th
Street, New York City

"Assemble on the roof. Sergeant Jebadiah, retreat and join us there. Stealth is a priority. Do not engage unless fired upon. Move."

            Tom ran through the corridors of the building, fumbling with his weapon, trying to jam a magazine in and charge the weapon while moving as fast as he could. He made two wrong turns in the long corridors until he finally found the terrace, joining the other three Serpents who, naturally, were already there.

            Captain Emerson gestured, and Tom fell facedown. He had run out without even noticing that the other Serpents were all crouching down on their bellies, peeking downwards carefully. Tom stayed where he was, way out of sight of anyone looking up. His sensors picked up multiple motorcycle engine noises converging on the building, streaming down the streets towards them. Tom's hand not holding his rifle scratched the terrace's surface ineffectually, his fingers digging deep furrows in the concrete below the stupid flowerbed.

            There seemed no end to the number of motorcycles below them. They seemed to shake the building by the sheer sound of their howling engines, and their headlights seemed so powerful that a false dawn was rising from the street, right below the building the Serpents hid on.

            Tom glanced at Emerson, but the captain's Serpent was down on his belly, peering down, saying nothing. The powerful light dawning ten stories below them moved, shifted and increased in strength as more and more motorcycles assembled, while still more seemed to come from other parts of Manhattan.

            Still, Captain Emerson said nothing.

            Tom slithered along the roof, heading towards the edge of the terrace. He reached it and paused. He now found out he could not bring himself to glance downwards at the motorcycles below—at the puppets of the enemy, his soldiers.

            Still, Captain Emerson kept his quiet, just looking down.

            Tom could now hear unmistakable noises through the blaring of the motorcycle engines. The riders were dismounting and entering the building. Tom heard motors being killed, building entrance doors being flung opened, boots storming on the sidewalks. But nobody talked. Not one word or other human voice came from below them.

            "Follow me," Captain Emerson said and carefully moved away from the edge of the terrace. He moved quickly, following the terrace as it went around the building and stopped when they reached the other side, where the building they were on abutted a tall residential building.

            Captain Emerson looked carefully down and to the sides before he backed away a few yards.

            "Follow me," was all that the captain said before he made a running start and then leapt into the air. Any other time, Tom would have gasped to see a Serpent jump more than forty feet and land perfectly balanced on another building's top, but now, he just grimly watched the other Serpents perform the same jump and easily negotiate the distance to the other building.

            Tom backed away some and stopped. Then he backed away some more.

           
Come on Riley, if these grunts can do it, you can do at least as well.

            If only he believed it.

            Tom's sensors started to pick up noises from behind him. Boots and shoes were heading out towards the terrace.

            Tom ran and leapt into the air, having the foresight to shut down his microphone to stifle his terrified scream. The top of the other building suddenly flashed before him and then hit him right in the face. Tom's Serpent crashed into the concrete and rolled about a dozen feet before he stopped, now terrified he would fall off the other side. Sergeant Jebadiah was there to steady him, and Captain Emerson was already scanning the streets below.

            "Follow me," the captain said and started descending the side of the building, coming down on East 15
th
Street, on the other side of the block. Captain Emerson did not wait but jumped down the last three stories, landing with a barely audible thud, his gaunt Serpent legs easily absorbing the impact by folding down neatly almost their entire length.

            Tom followed as fast as he could, his clawed hands grasping the bricks and tiles of the building with enough force to crack more than one and create a shower of dust and small bits and pieces raining down on the street.

            "Move it, Riley!" Ramirez sent up, and Tom put all his efforts into descending the building. Finally, he reached the street and looked around him in panic. The Serpents were gone!

            "Here, Sir!" Jebadiah sent, and Tom almost sobbed with relief when he saw Jebadiah’s Serpent light up as Tom's Serpent's sensors painted the source of the radio transmission.

            "Half an hour till sunrise. Retreat to the forward operations base. Triple time. Move."

            They moved, following Captain Emerson, running as softly and quietly as the sophisticated Serpent systems allowed. They hid in a beautifully groomed park on Second Avenue while motorcycle groups zoomed past them. Then they went south on Second and Tom, even in his panic, noticed Sergeant Jebadiah had hesitated for a moment before running onwards.

            "KFC. KFC is gone. Who doesn't like fried chicken?"

            Tom heard Sergeant Jebadiah lament softly while the sergeant faced the blank street corner on Second Avenue.

            They had to stop and hide three more times while motorcycle groups howled, prowling the streets. They reminded Tom of killer bees swarming out of their hive to find and kill intruders. They attacked as soon as you're near their nest and will pursue you in a swarm of tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of bees for miles. Their venom is no more potent than regular European Bees, but since they are much more aggressive, that comes as little comfort indeed.

            Stupid facts to remember while Tom moved as fast as he could in enemy-held New York City, and hostile motorcycle groups searched for him and his squad in an ever more agitated way.

            They took two detours and hid in Thompson Square Park in the East Village while a group of motorcycles cruised around them at low speed. They undoubtedly peered into the park, but the dense trees and the Serpents' dark unreflective armor saved them yet again.

            Finally, their shed came in sight, but Captain Emerson's terse command made them go for cover while he sent Ramirez to scan the area.

            Tom was pressed against a residential building on Montgomery Street, a mere three hundred yards from their base, when he realized that the sun was starting to rise. A unique red glow engulfed the East River and buildings started to sparkle with reflected sunlight. Tom started: he was beginning to hear movements from the residential building that was next to him. People moving, chairs creaking, refrigerators opening and closing, and doors being opened, but there was no talking. No one talked to anyone else.

            "Clear," Ramirez's message came through the radio, and the three Serpents slipped under FDR Drive to enter the shed one by one.

            Tom walked to the middle of the shed and sat down heavily on the floor. He was not tired, of course, it was just that he had reached some limit inside. There's a limit to how many times one can risk one’s life without getting caught and just go on: He had jumped out of a plummeting airplane, moved through enemy-occupied city, and entered the power control center while evading the motorcycle hunter groups that seemed to control the area.

            Tom would have thrown up now if he had been outside his Serpent.

            "Lieutenant Ramirez and Sergeant Jebadiah, close all openings to the shed. Make sure no one can see us from outside. You're on guard duty till we move out."

            The last command finally broke through Tom's cloud of dread. He rose unsteadily and watched Captain Emerson work around the shed's entrance, making sure it was secured and properly camouflaged, and that nobody from outside could see that the shed has been opened and used.

            "What—what do you mean move out?"

            "Lieutenant Riley, the mission is not over. Our primary target has not been eliminated. It is your duty to analyze the information you acquired at the Manhattan power control center and locate the enemy's position." Captain Emerson didn't stop his work.

            "But there was nothing there! Nothing that could indicate the enemy's location!"

            "Go over the data again, Lieutenant. I have been assured that power consumption rates are the key to finding the enemy. We have sixty-one hours till the enemy's zone of influence increases. Find the enemy, soldier."

            "Look, Sir. I went over all the information the control center possessed during the time I had. There was an increased power consumption rate in the Financial District, but that's all. All the buildings there are now consuming more power, but it could be just the people there. In Fort Belvoir, they told us the enemy was putting people there. That can explain the increased power demand. More power for air-conditioning, heating, water pumping and supply, cooking and even the elevators work harder. But I can't find the enemy that way! Wait!"

            Tom stopped talking. There was something that had been bothering him for some time now, something that—

            "Sir, if there are sixty-one hours till the enemy's zone of influence increases, how was the enemy able to take control of our pilots?"

            "Irrelevant. You have your orders, Lieutenant Riley. Concentrate on them," said Captain Emerson and moved back to double-check a large wooden plank he had placed to block the entrance to the shed.

            Tom turned away in anger though he was sure the captain didn't even notice. Anyway, Tom did not have anywhere to go. He fumed a moment or two and then started pacing again, moving four or five steps to the end of the shed, turning and pacing back.

            Sunlight now streamed in through some high windows on the shed and a partly opened roof. It was daylight outside. Tom needed a moment to realize that they were now hiding in plain sight less than a mile from where the enemy held several dozen tanks along with a larger number of Bradleys, all carrying guns and targeting systems enabling them to easily annihilate all the Serpents.

            Tom's gaze was invariably drawn to Ramirez's Serpent, whose spikes quivered occasionally while the Marine Corps lieutenant was looking outside.

           
How does he move his antennas and aerials?
Tom wondered stupidly. He tried moving his own aerials, trying to concentrate on the many sharp spikes, but nothing happened.

            Tom shook his head and resumed pacing, focusing his attention on the matter at hand. They all said the key was in the power consumption. They were all so sure that was the key. Well, Tom really had had very little time in the control center, but he’d had the presence of mind to record everything his sensors picked up. He had all the information the control center had showed him recorded inside his computer.

            Tom opened his left-arm computer panel and started playing back the recordings of all the screens and graphs he had seen in the control center. The images now took a full half of his field of vision and Tom concentrated on those images while still pacing back and forth, largely ignoring the shed around him.

            But no matter how long he analyzed each graph, he really didn't get any more information than he already had. Power consumption across the board from city infrastructure to street lights to subways to commercial and residential sectors was more or less at the same levels they had been before the enemy took over the city. The only glaring difference was a lower consumption of power in the residential neighborhoods and a higher consumption of power in the Financial Sector.

            Tom sighed and removed the images of the power control center graphs from his field of vision. He looked around him. Now Captain Emerson and Lieutenant Ramirez were on guard duty, peeking outside through carefully drilled holes in the shed walls. Sergeant Jebadiah took turns moving from wall to wall and checking the back entrance for any sign of the enemy's soldiers.

            "It's really a shame, Sir," the sergeant said to Tom who now stood next to him.

            "What?"

            "The enemy now controls New York City. I get it, Sir. Really. But to just close KFC." Sergeant Jebadiah shook his head.

            "What are you talking about, Sergeant?"

            "Look Sir, I'm a simple man. I really liked the popcorn chicken they do over there. Once me and my bros, we ordered three buckets and then went and drove two hundred fifty miles in one night to go to spring break. Got the car all greasy. Couldn't really bring no gal into the car, see what I mean? But the chicken was great, Sir. So even with the war, me and the boys, we like to pull our salaries together and go have us a bucket of chicken now and then. It's mighty difficult with prices in the war, but there you have it."

            Sergeant Jebadiah checked the magazine on his rifle before he went on.