Gravewalkers: Dying Time (3 page)

“
I have a quota to keep;”
Colonel Walker informed Critias dismissively, “more monotonous
regulations from pontificating amateurs on high will only bite into
my bottom-line. If we must indulge this vindictive farce being
perpetrated by the Grand Scaramouch, let’s try to make it extremely
brief.”

Carmen interjected a
comment to be amusing, that being mostly to herself, “Marshal
Captain Critias is expressing his professional concern about how it
will be the infected that bite into your bottom line, by snipping
you shorn at the curly hairs.” Her attempt at pertinently sarcastic
humor only earned her a pair of disconcerted frowns that silently
suggested that she keep her ignorant android mouth shut before it
got her into trouble.

“
That is my personal
android, Carmen,” Critias introduced her sourly to the colonel. It
was by no extra particular rudeness that he hadn’t named her sooner
except that it was common practice for real people to treat the
simulated without any unnecessary courtesies.

Colonel Walker’s tone
bordered on jealousy when he asked, “Is that the Epsilon-K variant
I’ve heard rumors about? The Reclamation General said we might be
getting some of them one day in the not too distant future.” While
he talked, the colonel admired Carmen’s flawless skin, prideful
cheekbones, and her taunting hips that urged him to seize them as
he might the steering wheel of a performance racecar, making him
taste his upper lip. His lusty appreciation shifted from jealousy
to rapacious android-beater misogyny, “That stew is the new
hunter-buster drop rat, the one they boned out all in milled
titanium, that Epsilon-K?” He choked on his angry sexual disgust
that Critias had so prestigious and mandatorily compliant a
plaything. Walker had to shake his head to wave away the nausea
over how his career had gone so wrong.

“
Yes,” Critias confirmed
it all with pride, “that’s my Epsilon-K hostile environment
companion. She’s all they promised; though, sometimes I wonder if
the bioengineers didn’t use some spare parts. She has the ass of a
leisure model with the mouth of a technical, with all her
big-worded smartass lip-service.”

Such criticism coming from
her own master cut deeply into Carmen’s pride. “I’m not
loquacious,” she complained resenting the insult. “My commentary is
always witty and usually ironically pertinent even when
anecdotal.”

“
Yes,” the colonel agreed
while he stared at Carmen’s ideally combat-modest breasts through
her flight suit. “I see what you mean, on both counts.”

Carmen secretly frowned in
silence because the override directives in her inorganic parallel
brain intervened to turn her expression upside down. The inhibitor
module made her smile with charming innocence. Both her real and
false expressions were equally intent to refrain from further
levity.

“
So, tell me, colonel,”
Critias asked, “What have the infected population figures been like
since your arrival?”

“
Sustained reclamation
activity attracts them as always,” the colonel stated as a
routinely expected consequence. “Our vehicles are as impervious to
them as is our defense perimeter. They are no difficulty at all
aside from all their screaming, which can be unnerving to the new
arrivals, at least until they get used to it.”

Carmen struggled to control
herself, but in the end, she couldn’t resist opening her mouth to
say, “Marshal Critias, should I be taking notes on these clues in
your investigation? You may need to report to the Grand Marshal
that you’ve discovered evidence that the insanely tormented shrieks
of the immortal cannibal damned can be detrimental to scavengers’
sleeping patterns and thus adversely impact their overall morale
and bottom-line productivity.”

Colonel Walker mistakenly
assumed he had seen the sharpest edge on Carmen’s tongue. “People
call us reclamation engineers,” he scolded her in a cold tone, “not
scavengers.” He added a scowl over her mocking insults, “The
infected don’t sleep, only lurk, scream, and hunt for
food.”

“
Fascinating, colonel,”
she replied in unsubtle sarcasm. “This should also go into my
confidential report to the Reclamation General. I’m strongly
considering the working title, ‘Observations on the wondrous
advantages of embedded reclamation strategy’.”

Walker assumed more than he
actually heard; her favorably named confidential report to his
boss, the Reclamation General, would nutrify his career
immensely.

“
It should go in that
report,” Carmen continued, “but then again, no one ever asks a
gabby technical-mouth like me to write special reports. Even if the
Reclamation General did ask me to write such a report, after this
latest research, I’m more partial to naming it, ‘Unbelievable
Fucking Ignorance: ERC Strategy is to shit your own bed for lunch,
one real marshal’s observations’.”

Colonel Walker slipped into
a rage over having Carmen taunt him with a dream opportunity only
to have her cruelly reverse it to flames. Part of his anger sprang
from the knowledge that much of what she said had come from having
overheard Critias’ own private commentary, which meant his
inspection would end in written repudiation no matter what else
happened. The colonel unleashed his resentments on Carmen, “When
human beings reveal their presence anywhere in ghoulish feeding
territory, the humans can’t avoid attracting unwanted attention.
Our defenses are utterly unassailable; ghouls run around out there,
rob bird’s nests, pursue rats, dogs, or cats, and oh yes, they howl
crazily in the night like baying animals, just as they have always
done, all very dramatic, but otherwise overrated.”

“
Legend is they would
rather eat reclamation engineers,” Carmen retorted unflinchingly,
“but as you say, colonel, that time is long past since they ran out
of people to chew on. Now the ghouls are more like scavengers, if
that is the proper use of the term, meaning they are dirty
gut-buzzard vermin feeding on the decaying refuse. Even for all of
those obvious faults, I assume even ghouls are smart enough not to
defecate in their own nests.”

“
Lucifer’s balls!” the
colonel cursed on the verge of striking her then turned his spite
on Critias. “What a delightful virago of an assistant you have
earned yourself, captain; it truly never does shut its face. It’s
such a tragedy that I’m too busy to socialize with you two all day
long. Unfortunately, I need to get back to work maintaining my
unbroken record of exceeding expectations.”

Critias was far from
finished with his interview, “That’s something of a coincidence
then, Colonel Walker, because I also never fail to exceed lofty
expectations. Grand Marshal Wayne personally ordered me to come
here and do this inspection of your operations and he will not be
disappointed in me for any lack of due diligence. According to the
reports I have received, you have had zero infections, an
impressive list of damaged vehicles, one accidental death, and thus
far delivered some seventy kilotons of clean premium salvage into
orbit. You have indeed exceeded your quotas impressively, colonel.
I am just here to make sure that you didn’t purchase your successes
by cutting corners from the safety regulations. The little people
do the dying when the big people get drunk on ambition.”

The colonel sustained his
irritation, which was an accomplishment, “Once the Council of
Governors approves this operational strategy, I’ll be ready to
duplicate this type of installation in capital cities all over the
planet, so it’s critical that we not lose pace. My output figures
have already won the blessing of the Reclamation
General.”

Critias cautioned the
colonel, “It’s more critical that Grand Marshal Wayne approves of
your operation for it to ever even enter debate at the Council of
Governors. Lack of cooperation may require me to recommend that the
Grand Marshal put your entire show on hold while a dozen marshals
perform a proper inspection.”

The colonel threw up
consolatory hands, “That won’t be necessary. I’m prepared to
cooperate in any way that will facilitate your confidence that
operations here are being administrated by me with the strictest
professionalism and regard for safety.”

Carmen was about to open
her mouth again, but Critias cut her off with a pointed finger to
shut it. He commanded, “Access the computer records; see if you can
find anything out of the ordinary.” It was an order, so she was
powerless to disobey.

“
Perhaps one of my
technicians would be better suited to help you with the data
records,” Colonel Walker offered. “It may be beyond the skills of
your thuggish prostitute.”

“
I am most certainly not a
pillow-bot,” Carmen complained. She let the thuggish part slide in
that she was rather proud of her combat-grade-five titanium
skeleton.

Critias ordered, “Go! One
more outburst and I’ll unplug you.”

Carmen went over then
propped her bightstaff aside so she could sit at a computer
terminal to do the job. She could access all the computer records
by internal modem, but much preferred doing it slowly by presenting
herself as a regular human person with an office job, a person who
could perform far better than any one of them ever could. When
sitting comfortably, she grumbled, “You of all people should know
that I don’t have any plug, master, not like you had any trouble
finding my input sockets your first day.”

Critias made sure she was
occupied with her task before he asked Walker, “Tell me about your
one accidental death, colonel. How did it happen?”

“
Friendly fire,” the
colonel answered with a sour expression for the unfortunate mishap.
“During an operation where we were culling the numbers of the
infected along the perimeter, teslaflux-cannon shrapnel struck one
of my men in the head.”

Critias saw no wisdom in
such a strategy, “You use cannons on infected along the perimeter?
Does that mean that the shredded bodies of ghouls are painting your
entire fence-line in contaminated filth?”

The colonel shrugged over
that minor detail, “It means the infected are in fewer active
numbers on my perimeter. If your pillow-bot is still taking notes,
have her record that infected don’t get smart, but they can learn
they don’t like being shot to shit.”

Critias reminded him of the
obvious, “Their wounds heal. I’ve seen this all before, so let me
guess - every time it rains, their scattered body parts start to
twitch and pulsate with all their old hunger and the ones that
crawled off came back freakishly regenerated and even more
dangerous than before. Where they once wandered stupidly into your
cannons, now they have learned to avoid them, but they never
stopped watching you.”

“
This station is not
really so different from being in orbit,” the colonel argued.
“We’re on the inside and the danger is locked without. They cannot
get into this base or into our reclamation excavators, so there is
nothing to fear but fear itself.”

“
There is more than fear
to fear, I can assure you,” Critias countered. “Your lack of fear
for yourself I might dismiss as foolish arrogance, but for the
lives of the people under your command, it is bordering on
incompetence. Standard covert reclamation procedures have proven
themselves for generations. Your declaration of open war on the
infected has also proven itself many times, as the path to
destruction. You’re not King Louie.”

The colonel roared, “This
time will be different!”

A radio message came to
Critias through his helmet, “This is Doctor Kine on the Homer. Are
you there, Marshal Critias?”

Critias didn’t know the man
when he answered, “Yes, I’m here, doctor. How can I help
you?”

“
You are on Earth,” Kine
sounded elated. “You’re at the Chicago reclamation center
interviewing Colonel Walker.”

Critias played along in an
effort to be respectful to a man of some obvious importance in the
science sector, “Yes, I am, doctor. What can I do for
you?”

“
Nothing,” Doctor Kine
answered oddly though still happy about their conversation. “I just
needed to verify your location, that’s all.”

Critias dismissed the
peculiar interruption as inexplicable then returned to his
conversation with Colonel Walker, “Now where were we?”

“
We were discussing how
the fucking orphanage still thinks they really are King Louie’s
blessing to the preservation of all mankind and how they never have
to listen to anyone.”

The Marshal Service took
all their membership from orphaned children such was the source of
the nickname. The Grand Marshal commanded all the marshals who
collectively enforced the regulations they called King’s Law, which
the legendary King Louie had set down when he was the original
savior of mankind in the first years of the plague apocalypse; that
was long before the technology existed to escape into orbital
space. In addition to King’s Law enforcement, the Marshal Service
also performed rescue operations for downed pilots and assorted
stranded scavengers. The marshals by reputation had no secondary
loyalties save for the law, the preservation of humanity, and
keeping each other on the rigid path.

“
You should see this,
master,” Carmen called to Critias. She said master according to her
irresistible inhibitor directives that forced her to, a particular
barrier to her will that activated when he scolded her for talking
too much out of turn. Carmen did her best to sneer when she said
it, but it came out sounding sweet anyway.