Special Delivery | A Babylon Omega Short

Special Delivery

(Vocal + contest entry)

“Looks like our courier down there, Miss.” Came out from one of the sentries she’d hired for this quick job. Regan Fortune roused from her half consciousness. When you were out in the Badlands you never truly slept. Even when you had three toughs with you, all loaded for bear.

But out there wasn’t what it used to be. The world, in the last six decades had gone through not one, but two apocalypses. The first was what had affected this area the most. A rouge terrorist nation had taken control of a couple old nuclear silos, somewhere in South East Asia, and tried to convince the old nations that each had fired on each other.

The end was a bunch of nuclear mushroom clouds, but thankfully the full on war was avoided. But parts of the earth, like the Badlands here, well where the nuclear missile silos were for each of the superpowers, were wiped out.

The second apocalypse, the purge wave, didn’t affect those out here too much.

Regan used her cybernetic eyes to zoom in as if she had a pair of old military binoculars, and spotted the lone courier on his hover bike. It was an older model, not in good shape. But when she’d hired him, she knew that.

Once she had him in the rectiles of her targetting display, another voice came to, in her head, “That’s him. Should be an easy drop.”

That voice was known by the name ‘Nampheel’, an AI entity that lived in her built in personal communicator computer now. He was one of the Asura, digital entities that had been found when the Psi-Fi network went live, years ago.

But he was right, this was an easy trick: hire a guy to carry something out of the Puget Sound Metroplex, and jack it from him out here in the Bad Lands. Less having to deal with the PSMPD or corporate interest that way.

“Okay guys, mount up. Target is 3 clicks down on a side road. Non-lethals only. We need his payload in one piece. After we’ve got that, you can leave him to the Rad-Bears. Am I understood?” She added as she got up from where she’d been in a crouching lean against an old tree.

Two of the men moved with her. They’d pulled their own hoverbikes out here via a cargo sled. The fourth guy was driving that. But it was slower than a mutant tortoise. But he had to stay with it, otherwise that old O’toole’s law would come into play.

And according to O’toole, Murphy was an optimist.

Ms. Fortune, also her street name, and two men got onto their bikes, small arrowhead shaped things, that were all engine with a seat and handlebars. Each had a pod on the side that looked like an old sidecar, with a small EM cannon on it. This was the non-lethal she meant. The courier’s bike was an old battery model, so these were all that should be needed.

If shit got bad, then their sidearms would have to do. Hopefully no land sharks or rad-bears were actually out there.

All three pushed the power buttons in unison, and the three turbines spun up, making the dilapidated forest suddenly full of sound. Birds that had been quiet due to the potential predators around, suddenly flew off in flocks, and filled the air with their warning cries.

Regan held up her hand, and then motioned for them to go. Three arrowheads sped down the hill, a meter or so off the ground. It wasn’t as smooth as one would hope, but decades of plant grown in a radiation containment zone led to things not exactly being as it was on the old maps.

The courier, he’d noticed the changes. The birds flying away, the dull hum of three H3 powered turbine engines in the distance and now getting closer.

He’d pulled his throttle to go faster, as fast as that battery powered thing could take him. He was hitting and easy 50 knots when they finally caught up to him. The other two started taking shots at him, the glowing dull gray balls of energy hitting wide.

But their job was to corral him. Line him up for her shots. Hers were calculated, and she was using a targeting app that was enhanced by Nampheel’s help. Her first three shots missed though, the fourth hit solid into the battery compartment.

The pressure built up in the small containment area, and when the plate flew off, opening it to the air, sparks followed by black smoke. This was followed by the old hover bike losing the little altitude it had and slamming into the ground. It slid about thirty feet forward, till it hit a fallen tree trunk, and flipped over it.

The three hunters came up, fanning out into an arc pattern. They stopped and dismounted, leaving their engines running in idle.

One of the two hired guns pulled his sidearm, a small needler, and Regan gave him a glare. He holstered it, but kept his hand on it. She noted he was probably ex-law enforcement.

The courier stood up, and doffed the poncho he’d been wearing. He was a cybered up model, both legs, and one arm were obvious, probably more inside of him. He pulled up a small bullpup rifle, and leveled it at them. “This isn’t going to be easy for you. I’m a licensed courier out of the Puget Sound Metroplex. I’m not going to just let you have my cargo.”

Regan laughed at him, “I know who and what you are, Mr. MacKenzie. I’m technically the one who paid the deposit for your services. Just have to let you know, your services are no longer needed. Just hand the box over, and we’ll figure things out from there.”

The courier, Mr. MacKenzie, shook his head, “Not sure how you intend to prove that. Bottom line, I’m paid to take this box to the Chicago Enclave. And out here, aint no law man going to tell me I can’t fill you full of metal slivers. Now, stand down, back off, and let me go.”

Regan put her hand up to him, “Look, it’s three on one, and we have one more on a long range if needed. I’m not wanting any blood shed out here. It’ll draw too much unwanted attention. You don’t want any of the local fauna coming here when they smell blood, ours or yours.”

The voice in her head spoke, “Thanks for leaving the bike on. I’ve got a lock on. The rifle is currently down, but recharging. Its a low yield rail. I can put him cyber-down on your call.”

Regan replied back, also in her own head, via her P-Comm, “I can see that. He’s holding it up right in front of me. But thanks for heads up on its power status.”

The courier motioned with the rifle again, “Come on, lets break this up. Once my bike can go again, I’ll be on my way.”

His movements made the two toughs with her draw their little handguns. They were old fashioned 9mils, gunpowder, and not affected by the use of the EM guns. Again Regan had to calm things down.

“Hold fire!” she yelled as her hands waved at them. Good thugs weren’t cheap, and she’d not spent a lot on them. “His rifle is currently down. Look, no indicator lights. The capacitor dumped its charge when his bike got hit. He’s probably got another minute or two before he could think about shooting us.”

With that, she cocked her head to the side a bit, and gave the courier a smile, “And he knows this, meaning he also knows he should just turn over everything and guarantee he’s not turned into animal food out here. We’re packing heat, and it’s gunpowder powered, meaning it will be a very one sided gunfight. Now, hand over the fucking box!” she yelled the last part showing frustration.

He acted as she expected, though. He dropped his rifle, letting it hang loose on the ready-sling that was hooked to his jacket, and pulled a small side arm from behind his back.

“Now!” she yelled out in her head. Nampheel didn’t respond to her, instead the EM gun on her bike rang out in three short sounds that resembled the sound of a large animal burping. All three hit him, one in each cybernetic limb.

He crumpled to the ground as the capacitors that kept his enhancements shorted out. Magnets and hydraulic pumps lost power, and couldn’t hold his weight up anymore. His flesh hand was holding the pistol, and it went off in a wild direction, the bullet hitting a tree somewhere.

“Damnit!” he yelled out, having not expected the vehicles weapons to fire without an actual rider to actuate the controls. He went to pull the pistol up again. He wasn’t able to aim as well, as it was his off hand. One of her hired guns was already moving. He was a smart one, he’d need to maybe get a bonus.

The thug grabbed the man’s gun and wrenched it from his hand. Then he backed off, two steps. Maybe both were former cops.

Regan walked up, but not to the courier. She walked to his bike, and started opening the hard case containers. She found what she was looking for, quickly. A small box, like those used to store guns or delicate computer equipment.

She put her thumb to the lock and the case opened. Inside was a small simple piece of jewelry. A cheap looking locket, of plated silver, in the shape of a heart. It was the type you’d give to a child and put pictures in.

She dropped the case, and took the locket in her hand, looking it over. Once she found the mechanism, she popped it open. “See, my thumb print opened the box. So it is mine.” She added, looking at no one in particular.

Inside was a high density data chip. Maybe three-quarters of an inch long on each side. It was the type used for corporate servers. Thankfully she knew what to expect and was ready for this. She inserted the chip into a slot in her p-comm, and waited.

“Confirmed: subject entity Gadreel is present on the chip.” Nampheel interjected after scanning the chip’s digital contents.

“Good, lets get him to my brother, so he can be mounted onto his system” Regan said internally. She then turned to her men, “Alright, this is it. Pack out, we head back to Boise.”

She turned, as well as her men, getting back onto their bikes. The one tossed the courier’s sidearm about ten yards off to his side. Regan shook her head but left it be, and just motioned for them to get started.

The all pulled the accelerators on their bikes, and they started off at a high rate of speed. Then over her p-comm came a comment from one of the others, “But we’re working out of Minneapolis, not Boise.”

Regan’s reply was simple, “I know. But he doesn’t.”

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