Chapter 17: Rescue

Location : Columbia Mountains, Unclaimed Territories, Earth
Era : Wednesday, 9th March 2163CE

Mark monitored the squad of warbot's progress through the snow laden trees using video feeds from multiple drones. They were still moving towards his hide. There was no need to move to one of his other prepared positions. For the first time in a long time he was cold. Despite the security implications he was off loading a lot of his processing to the Comms nodes and drones he had scattered around the mountain side. He couldn't afford to run hot otherwise he would show up like a search light to the bots infrared sensors. Besides letting his body temperature rise to its normal levels would cause the antifreeze in his blood to break down into poisonous byproducts.

The thermal blanket covering him was more to hide his thermal signature from the enemy than to keep him warm. He kept his Himura trained on the point where he estimated the bots would emerge from the tree monitoring the area using the video feed from the gun site.

Drone 7 drew his attention to an enemy drone converging on his position. He had thought he had already destroyed the opposing drones and wondered how many other surprises were in store for him.

Drone 7 had a perfect shot at the enemy's left rotor. He instructed it to fire and winced as the drone SMES cells drained to less than half empty as its laser discharged. However the enemy drone's left rotor locked and it spun out of control disappearing below the tree line. He sent Drone 7 back to one of his hidden recharge points and commanded Drone 11 to cover the gap in surveillance left by the withdrawal of Drone 7.

A warbot stepped out of the trees to fire a rapid stream of bullets at the retreating Drone 7. Mark commanded the drone to take cover and without waiting to see the results, specified a location on the bot's torso and commanded the Himura to fire. A circular dent appeared in the bot's armor right where he was aiming with a neat hole in the center. Sparks and electrical arcs outlined the warbot telling Mark that at least one of the bot's SMES cells had been short circuited by the micro flechettes and their tailing superconductive mono-filaments that had been the final bot killer payload of the multistage warhead fired by the Himura. Even as the first warbot collapsed as its insides were shredded by nanoaluminum / nanoperiodate explosives and clusters of single crystal flechettes and the uncontrolled discharge of its own power cells, the other warbots opened fire on Mark's position. Leaves, twigs, wood chips and splinters flew everywhere as the wall of bullets tore through the copse where Mark was hiding. A 15 centimeter splinter was driven though his thermal blanket into his shoulder.

<Christ! Var are you trying to kill me? Those are live rounds, > sent Mark.

<Oh, please! If I was trying to kill you, you would be dead. It feels different with live rounds doesn't it?> asked Varija.

<This isn't the virtual world if you misjudges thing I will die for real.>

<That's the point. There isn't anything like the real thing. And if there is an accident I will bring you back. Your personality might be slightly changed and you might lose a few memories, but you will never notice the difference.>

Mark ordered Drone 9 to launch an anti-bot missile at one of the remaining warbots. The million dollar bot was converted into worthless scrap in a noisy explosion. The surviving bots fired their weapons at the disappearing Drone 9 as it ducked behind a ridge.

Mark scrambled out of his foxhole and down the slope dragging the Himura out of its firing slit and slinging it over his good shoulder. He ejected the spent shell casing and loaded a new bot killer shell as he ran to one of his other prepared positions.

<You know it would be cheaper to just to do this in virtuality, > he sent.

<The experience would not be the same, > she sent. <Besides in the unlikely event we ran out of money, I could always confiscate some more.> It was only when he reached the new foxhole that he reached behind to pull out the wooden sliver embedded in his shoulder. He slid the Himura though the firing slit and dragged a new thermal blanket over himself. The remaining three warbots were now far too close for comfort. He took out another warbot with the Himura which collapsed with the satisfying crackle of discharging SMES power cells.

One of the warbots launched a heat seeking missile. The Himura's muzzle had heated up enough for the missile to lock on. Mark remote triggered one of the flares he had scattered at strategic points on the mountain. The missile veered towards the lit flare. The missile exploded toppling several trees. He launched an anti-bot missile from Drone 3 and beat a hasty retreat.

He launched smoke grenades from Drones 2, 6 and 8 obscuring his withdrawal. He took cover behind a small hillock. He ejected the spent shell from his Himura and loaded a new bot killer. He open himself up to the video feeds from the drones and allowed the images to assemble themselves into a 3d model of his surroundings. The integrated information from the drones allow him to 'see' though the hillside and though the grenade smoke. His head started to ache as even with all the preprocessing done by the distributed Comms nodes and his tarka, the information overload was a little too much for the organic portion of his visual centers. He cut down the resolution to lower the work load on his poor brain. He ran across the slope until he had a clear shot the final warbot. Despite the increased fuzziness of the 3d model he could still 'see' the bot though the smoke as he cleared the tree and the rise he braced and fired. The last bot collapsed in a shower of sparks.

Mark staggered as warmth flooded his body. He let go of the video feeds and the integrated model an rolled in the snow trying to bring his temperature down, then started the process of purging the antifreeze glycoproteins from his system. He couldn't remove the AFGPs too quickly without rupturing his cells. He lay on his back controlling the nausea and calming his nerves.

Varija skid to a hockey stop next to him. "Congratulation, it looks like you have mastered the equipment," she said. She was wearing a body that looked like an older, more mature version of some of the childhood images of her that he had seen.

"Are we ready to rescue your parents?" he asked as he sat. He yearned to touch her, but she radiated heat, and it would take a while for his body to flush the AFGPs out of this system.

"Well, you have a long way to go before you're any kind of soldier, and I was planning on giving you more training, but all I need is someone to act as look out and maybe provide a diversion if we get any unexpected visitors during the snatch. It looks like you can handle the equipment without blowing off your foot. I was planning on spending a week in Newstock and we were there only a few hours, but you didn't seem to have much difficulty in adjusting to 23rd Century social norms, in fact I was really impressed by how you wrapped Cloe around your little finger by acting hard to get."

"That was not deliberate."

"Never the less, it was impressive," she stated.

"Are we going now?"

"Not immediately. I have to change back to how I looked when I was 16 and that's going to take a while because of the wings. You need a disguise but that won't take much time. I'll T-Jump us to camp. We can wait in virtuality while I morph."

"You are too hot!" protested Mark.

"I know," she said smugly as she grabbed him and jumped.

Mark rolled in the snow again, his skin stinging were she had touched him. "I was talking about the AFGPs in my system."

"Yes, I know. I was joking. Let's get hooked up to the VR equipment."

Mark joined Varija near the top of a giant tree. Seated on a high branch they looked out over a green tree top canopy that stretched over the valley. It was one of Var's favorite places in the virtual world. She was in a depressed and introspective mood.

"We haven't talked much about our childhoods or about our families have we?" asked Varija.

"Not so much," said Mark.

"I know people in the 21st Century had siblings. Did you have any?"

"I have a younger sister named Tamara. And before you ask, I am using the present tense because I intend to see her and the rest of my family again."

"I promise you will," said Var. "Here in the 23rd Century we do not have siblings. It is hard enough to obtain permission from the Fertility Board to have one child. A second child is rarely allowed. However I had two childhood friends, Channy and Luke that were as close to me as I imagine a brother and sister would be. We were all the same age, born within a few weeks of each other. They had been a constant part of my life from my earliest memories, we were inseparable. They were my best friends. I was very close to their parents as well. It was like having 3 mothers and 3 fathers. I got along better with Corny and Ann (Channy's parents) than I did with my own parents and Luke's mother taught me many things that have been essential to surviving the last 11 years."

"Then a few days after my 14th birthday shortly before I was to start university they moved away for reasons that they never fully explained to me. I couldn't even send to them. They cut off all ties. I was left alone and friendless. I was devastated. No-one at University was interested being friends with a snot nosed kid. When a much older girl started paying attention to me, she didn't have a lot of trouble seducing me. I was hurting and vulnerable and Selina was so sophisticated, so cool and she seemed to be committed to making a difference with her involvement with the 'Students for Open Government'. Two years later Selina and my parents were gone as well. In a few short years I had lost everybody who was important to me" she continued.

Mark did not know what to say. Fortunately she did not seem to need him to say anything, so he just hugged her.

"Lend me your eyes," requested Var.

As he accepted the offered service token, Mark saw his new body though Varija's eyes. He was standing in the middle of their ski camp and had oriental features but with coal black skin, and was tall and muscular.

"I look dreadful. What was I thinking?" asked Var.

"You were 16 and angry and you wanted everyone to know how angry you were."

"You are making a few assumptions there."

"I don't think so. That body is a statement, and not a very subtle statement either," said Mark. Var's body was now red and black with horns and functional bat-like wings. Wings functional in the sense that they had the full range. "Where did you get those?" He pointed to the two body bags lying on the snow.

"I cloned them from my parents DNA."

"And the ethics of the situation do not bother you?"

"Yes, of course they do. However except for the brain stem the connections in their brains are entirely random. They have never known a single moment of consciousness. Their mind contains nothing but noise. Yet they are alive. They are still alive even now, though their metabolism has been slowed to a crawl. I will be exchanging their lives for my parent's lives. I am willing to do this, but it is not without impurity. After all 'Abstaining from taking life, from stealing, and from sexual misconduct. This is called right conduct, '" she quoted.

"Seems to me you might have problems with the stealing and sexual misconduct as well."

"I have never separated property from anyone unless a court of law has ruled they are not entitled to it and my conduct during sex has always been flawless." Varija eyes flashed with anger.

"Yes, you are correct and I am wrong. Sex with you is always perfect," Mark stated. While he thought that Var's reasoning about her 'confiscations' smelled a little like rationalizations, he really didn't have any right to complain about sex. "Shall we go?"

Varija glanced at the equipment stacked around them. "This is going to take a few trips."

Location : Melbourne, Oceania, Earth
Era : 12th September 2288CE

From his position perched on the roof of a split level bungalow Mark surveyed the sleepy suburban street containing Varija's parent's house. The well-lit street was quiet with only two cars and a pedestrian walking his dog travelling the road during the time he and Varija had been staking out the house.

<That is a big house for three people, > sent Mark. He tried again to enter the altered state of consciousness that allowed him to merge the video feeds from the drones into a 3D model, but could not seem to get the knack of it. Maybe it was because of the increased tension in his body. Perhaps it was because he wasn't as familiar with the suburban street as he was with the snow covered mountain.

<Until two years ago nine people lived there. Six of whom had their own home offices, > sent Var.

Mark stopped trying to monitor all the feeds at once and simply cycled through them. <Drone 8 is picking up a visual on the 16 year old version of you coming out of your third story bedroom window. She's now on the roof of the two story section of the house. How is she going to get down?>