The Biomass Revolution

Chapter 6: The Tunnels

A soft rain peppered Spurious’ leather coat, the drips of water forming small rivers on their paths down the black leather. Spurious wiped the rain off his forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He rested his back against a stone bench beneath the feet of the stone statue of Koliam, the first Knight of Tisaia.

The rain didn’t bother him; in fact, he liked the refreshing feeling of it as each drop touched his skin. He looked about the courtyard; admiring the statues of other Knights and the massive stone statue of Governor Lunia, the first Governor of Tisaia and the man after whom the capitol city had been named following his assassination.

The courtyard was truly a royal place, and to many, a holy place. It was only the second time Spurious had seen it. He could still remember the first time like it was yesterday. The memory of the tour guide leading his graduating class through the gardens many years ago remained engrained in his mind. Spurious could still feel the excitement pumping through his veins as he watched a squad of Royal Knights fire a volley of shots in awe. It was a tradition started by Governor Lunia in order to celebrate the University of Tisaia’s graduates. Each year, Spurious could hear the bark of the Knights’ rifles from his office.

The rain began to pick up and collect in puddles on the stone courtyard. Lightning illuminated the oblique skeletons of the skyscrapers in the distance. Spurious ignored them, his eyes fixated on a man dressed in a white robe, slugging down the path of carefully cut stones towards him.

Something was not right. Spurious surveyed the rest of the courtyard. It was completely empty. There wasn't even a Royal Knight guarding the sacred place.

Another streak of yellow lightning lit up the garden of stone with a crack of thunder following close behind. The man was slowly creeping towards Spurious, undeterred by the brewing storm. He tried not to move, to remain completely silent, but the chilled night gave him away as his breath steamed into the gray sky.

The stranger continued slugging forward, his head tucked into his collarbones, staring intently at the stone pathway. In seconds, the man would be at his feet, but for some reason Spurious wasn’t frightened by the man’s presence. In an odd sense he was relieved. The empty courtyard was eerie and he still couldn’t remember how he got there.

Spurious brought his fingers to his face, feeling his freezing skin. The night was so cold, clusters of ice were beginning to form on the stone statues. He knew he needed to go home, but he was frozen. His eyes were still fixated on the robed man who stopped in front of him, slowly pulling his face from his chin.

I’m asleep, Spurious finally realized, as another flash of lightning lit up the dark sky and illuminated the face of the old man.

“Paulo,” Spurious gasped. “It can’t be.”

There was no mistaking it; his old friend stood staring at him, eyes wide and his face pale and gray like the sky.

“They’re coming for you, Spurious,” Paulo said.

“Who’s coming for me, Paulo? Who?”

“You’ll know soon,” Paulo said, turning and walking back down the same stone path.

“Paulo, wait! Who’s coming for me?” Spurious yelled. It was too late, though; Paulo disappeared in the downpour. He looked again at the statue of Governor Lunia and darkness washed over him.

Spurious awoke in a sweat. “Anya, lights,” he said urgently. An orange glow immediately washed over the room and Spurious sat up, clawing at his eyes in an attempt to clear the fog.

What the hell was that all about? Why would Paulo tell me that someone was coming for me?

The dream had to be related to his encounter with the Knights at The Ale House. It’s just my mind, he thought, rubbing his eyes again. The cloud slowly began to clear and he pulled his blanket up to his neck, prompting Anya to change the temperature gauge. He listened to the Biomass-fed furnace flare to life in the utility closet. “Thanks,” he said, laying his head back on his pillow. Anya was very observant, rarely overlooking any of his needs. She never slept, her mainframe only idling when he was asleep.

“Spurious, you don’t appear well. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Anya suggested.

“I don’t need to go back to sleep,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, sir, is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah, actually, search the databases and see if you can find anything on the TDU members that attacked the trolley stations.”

“Sir, this is classified information. I don’t have access to it.”

Spurious turned over in bed and stared at Anya’s hologram. “I want to know who killed Paulo. Just see what you can find.”

“Sir, your behavior is irrational. You have no logical reason to seek this information.”

Spurious rolled his eyes. “Anya, you are a machine. You don’t know what it is like to have friends. Paulo was a good man and I want to know who killed him. There isn’t anything irrational about that.”

Anya’s hologram dimmed and disappeared before reappearing on a stand across from Spurious’ bed.

“You are correct. I do not understand human emotion, but I know you have not been yourself and it is my job to take care of you.”

“Then search the databases and help me find his killers.”

“What do you hope to do with this information if I find it?” she asked.

Spurious paused. “Nothing,” he lied. “I just want to know.”

“Very well sir. I’ll see what my resources uncover,” she replied.

Spurious closed his eyes, fatigue washing over him. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Anya, but she was the only connection he had to the State’s archives.

Her blue hologram disappeared and darkness carpeted the room. Spurious yawned and rolled over. Part of him was afraid to return to sleep. He knew he was in a dark place. His past was haunting him both in sleep and during the day, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.

By day Agrippa worked as an accountant in SGS Finances, by night he drove a Biomass-run automobile, one of the oldest heaps of trash he had ever seen. In fact, it was so old he could vaguely read the UPS lettering on the brown dashboard. Now the antique belonged to his boss and was property of Cyriaca United, a food transportation company.

Following State law, Cyriaca had registered for and received a permit to carry foods deemed healthy by the State. The majority of the foods he transported were grown in State-run greenhouses. There wasn’t much money in this business, but his boss only used the company as a front.

During the day his other driver would deliver foods to State office buildings: cafeterias, markets, and food stands. By night Agrippa would pick up black market food and other fine perishable items and deliver these items to wealthy Tisaian citizens. The job was never dangerous, and the only threat he faced was the possibility of being caught by undercover CRK officers. That, however, was rare, and in the three years Cyriaca had been in business he had never been stopped. Besides, the State knew about operations like Cyriaca’s and never intervened. The government needed his business as badly as he needed theirs.

The night began with a routine drop off just south of Lunia, at a gated community called Silver Terrace. It was on the outskirts of the city, where the wealthy built their mansions.

He looked down at the invoice, surprised to see the strict orders; the customers wanted their delivery dropped off outside a large oak tree on the edge of their property. The money would be waiting for Agrippa in their mailbox. It was a weird request, but not uncommon and Agrippa decided to think nothing of it.

He turned the key and the old truck coughed to life, the Biomass flowing through its veins. The beams from the truck’s headlights tore through the darkness as he put it into gear and bellowed out of the garage.

“Holy shit!” he yelled. The truck fishtailed on the slick cobblestone streets. The tires spat chunks of freshly planted snow into the frothy air, shotgun-spraying the powder into parked cars. Agrippa grabbed the steering wheel tightly with his gloved hands, scanning the dark road ahead as he regained control of the vehicle. The small white flakes melted on his windshield as his truck crawled down the icy road.

In the distance he could make out the outline of several trees. Even with the low visibility he could see they were young and still maturing, not the monstrous oak trees he was looking for. Silver Terrace was known for its forest of mature trees, some of the only ones that had survived the Biomass Wars.

He shifted the manual transmission into a higher gear, listening to the engine groan as the truck increased speed. The border of Lunia was only about a mile away. He knew the route by heart and had memorized each twist and bend in the road.

Within seconds, the white beams from his truck illuminated the black fence surrounding Silver Terrace. He took a deep breath, relieved to be off the main arterial road.

He eased his truck up to the edge of the gate and turned off the engine. He swung the brown door open, splintering the ice that had accumulated around the window into a thousand shards. A blast of frosty air took his breath away as he jumped into the snow below, prompting him to pull his stocking cap over his thinning hair. “Damn cold,” he muttered aloud.

He braced himself for another gust of wind, but instead a voice rang out in the night. “Freeze, you piece of shit!”

Agrippa turned quickly and met the butt of a rifle with his chest. He fell coughing onto the snowy ground, not daring to look up at his attacker.

“Give me the fucking key,” the voice ordered.

Agrippa quickly reached for the truck key deep in his pocket. He raised it into the air without looking up, terror racing through his veins. He knew the best thing to do was not look at his attacker, for if he could identify her, then he would surely be killed.

The attacker grabbed the keys. “Your truck is property of the TDU,” she said, kicking Agrippa in the face.

“Stop, please, don’t do this!” Agrippa screamed as a waterfall of blood poured from his nose onto the white blanket of snow, turning it a bright red.

“I’m sorry, man.” the attacker said, turning to walk away.

Agrippa sucked in the cold air, his hands shaking nervously as they shielded his head. He listened as the crunch of footsteps became faint in the distance, but he still did not dare look up. For a minute he stayed put, kneeling in the wet snow, his toes beginning to freeze. And just when he thought he was safe, he heard the footsteps heading towards him again. He looked up to scream, but didn’t get the chance.

A shot rang out in the cold night air, and Agrippa’s dead body slumped into the white snow, a trail of blood seeping into the fresh powder. Another gust of wind hit his lifeless body as the attacker fired up the engine of her truck and drove off into the night.

“Why the hell did you have to kill him?” Ran shouted, punching Nordica in the arm.

“The guy could have freaking identified me, you ignorant piece of shit,” Nordica roared back, swatting at him with her free hand while gripping the steering wheel.

“You didn’t need to kill the guy, and you know it. You just wanted to try out your new gun.”

“You’re right, Ran; I just wanted to see his brains in the snow.”

Ran shot Nordica a stern look, but then turned his attention back to the empty road. They were still several miles from their hidden storm drain location, and the truck was low on juice, the engine groaning like a sick child.

Nordica saw the worry in Ran’s face and smiled. “Don’t worry, little man. We’re going to make it. And just think of the reception we’re going to have.” Nordica said, cocking her head to look at the cargo bay full of food.

Ran turned to gaze at the food, but quickly peered back at the dark road. Not even a semi trailer full of food would make him feel better. Whenever Nordica killed innocent civilians it made him sick. And tonight, his mind ached in anguish.

The TDU was no place for someone with a weak stomach. There was no room for hesitation when lives were on the line. It wasn’t the lifestyle most children grew up fantasizing about.

Ran wasn’t a natural soldier. A job as medical technician or aid worker would have fit him better, but as fate would have it he ended up fighting with the rebels. His reputation as a softy wasn’t derived just from his empathetic nature either. It was his appearance that really gave him the most grief. He was only a little over five feet tall, so small he didn’t fit into standard TDU fatigues. This resulted in a constant barrage of jokes by Nordica and others about his boyish appearance.

Nordica, on the other hand, had the frame of a soldier. She was just over six feet tall with a solid build rivaled only by Ajax. Her most identifying feature, however, was the dreadlocks that ran halfway down her back. The spent bullet shells she rolled into her locks were a bit much if you asked Ran, but he never dared mention them. Besides, on missions Nordica would take them out.

The truck barreled further away from Lunia, Ran watching as the faint lights of the State buildings disappeared in the rearview mirror. It was a lonely feeling, heading away from civilization, into the sprawl of shanty towns and rubble that had never been repaired after the Biomass Wars. The stretch of road between Lunia and Rohania was known by the TDU as the Pirate Highway due to all the robberies in the past. The Knights never patrolled the blacktop, and the State rarely sent work crews out to fix the potholes.

The truck’s axles screamed in protest as they ran over a pot hole. Nordica swerved to the right to avoid another one, but over-corrected, causing the truck to slide on the icy surface. “Watch out!” Ran screamed as they fishtailed helplessly towards a concrete barrier.

Nordica slammed on the breaks and down shifted just in time to avoid it, the truck creeping to a stop. “Shit!” she screamed, pounding the steering wheel.

Ran slowly loosened his tight grip on the armrests, his eyes fixated on a collapsed building at the edge of the road. “That was close.”

“Too close,” Nordica replied, holding down the clutch while turning the key to start the engine again. The machine coughed and groaned in retaliation. “Come on!” Nordica yelled, her fist coming down on the steering wheel again.

After several tries, the engine blared back to life. Nordica backed the truck up and continued on down the blacktop, cautious not to exceed a safe speed. The two soldiers spent the rest of the journey in silence, staring ahead at the dark road.

Nordica trained her headlamp on Ran, the light illuminating his distraught eyes. “God, you’re such a sucker, man; that guy was no better than a Tin Can. For all we know, he works by day as one of those metal machines.”

Ran kept silent, not wanting to relive the same conversation. He realized long ago he would never win an argument with Nordica. He could only hope the food would somehow make up for the man’s death.

“We’re almost there. Keep sharp,” Nordica said, shooting a nervous look back at Ran.

“HQ should be a few tunnels ahead,” Ran responded, pulling one of the bags loose from a rock it was caught on.

“Why wouldn’t Obi send us any men to help us drag this food to HQ?” Ran asked.

“Now you are questioning Obi? I’m sure he had a good reason for not sending us help. Besides, you need the exercise. Maybe it will help you grow a bit,” Nordica said, grinning.

“Very funny. One of these mornings, you’re going to wake up bald, you know that?”

“Try it. Just try it. I’ll make sure you end up more than bald.”

A hint of a smile crawled across Ran’s face as they continued in the darkness, but the foul scent of sewage quickly erased it from his mouth.

“There it is,” Nordica said, dropping her sack of food and pointing at a small burning candle marking the HQs entrance. “Now be quiet. We don’t want to get shot.”

Ran dropped the sacks of food carefully on the ground and followed Nordica through the darkness towards the small candle. “Do you remember the password?” Ran asked nervously.

“Of course I remember the damn password,” Nordica shouted.

“Shit, woman! Keep your voice low,” Ran whispered.

Nordica nodded and approached the wall, reaching out and knocking on it four times before standing back, stepping on Ran’s foot. The pain prompted the small soldier to scowl. “Watch it,” Ran whispered in protest.

The odd pair stood there waiting patiently for a response. Moments later, the concrete wall creaked and opened. The sweet face of Juliana, a TDU staffer, poked out. “Evening, do you need some help with those bags?” she asked cheerfully, her smile extending from cheek to cheek.

“Hell yeah, beautiful, we could use some help,” Nordica responded with a smirk. Juliana rolled her eyes before shooting a quick glance down the tunnels to ensure they hadn’t been followed.

Inside, the headquarters was busy with movement. TDU staffers rushed about, some stopping to gawk at the sacks of food the trio were carrying. Others ignored them, their important tasks far outweighing their growling stomachs.

Nordica and Ran headed to the pantry, where Eddia, the main cook, was anxiously awaiting his new shipment of food. He was going to prepare a feast for everyone at HQ. Even the night shift staffers would have a plate waiting for them after their shifts were over.

They turned down a hallway leading to the cellar and were immediately greeted by the overweight cook. The thick man pinched his index finger and thumb together. “Ah, now, this is a something I can work with!” he shouted happily, his large belly jiggling over an aging belt that looked as if it could snap at any minute.

Ran tried to hold back a laugh, but a smile broke across his face as he dropped his sacks on the floor. No one knew where Eddia was from, but his broken English implied he was from somewhere in Eastern Europe. His passion, apparent by his round figure, was food. It was no secret he was the best fed in the TDU, more than likely due to sneaking bites of ingredients while he prepared meals. But it was a fair trade, and most of the men didn’t mention it, happy to have decent meals when they were available.

Ran grimaced as the aroma of garlic entered his nostrils, resulting in a deep groan from the pit of his stomach. Hunger was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, much like the other soldiers in the TDU. In fact, most of the rebellion lacked proper nutrition, and some of the lower ranks were on the verge of starvation.

“We got your food, fatty. The biggest load yet,” Nordica joked. Eddia glanced at her, frowning.

“I told you, don’t call me that!” he yelled, quickly forgetting the insult as he rummaged through the contents of the bags. “You got fresh beef and lamb,” he smiled, pulling out two slabs of meat. “And you got onions!” he yelled gleefully, juggling two of them.

Juliana giggled, she had always been entertained by Eddia. Nordica, however wasn’t amused, and grunted as she turned to walk out of the pantry. “I’m going to get some shut eye,” she said, her voice trailing off up the stairs.

“I suppose I should do the same,” Ran said, following his comrade.

“Well,” Juliana paused. “Welcome back, and don’t forget about the staff meeting at 10 tonight. You two are expected to be there.”

“We’ll be there,” Ran chirped, as he ran to catch up with Nordica.

Obi lay in a white bed, staring at the cold concrete walls around him, trying to shut the images of violence out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the screams of civilians in Trolley Station #14 and saw the horrified faces as he and his men descended upon the lone Royal Knight. No matter what he did he just couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open. He was too exhausted. His last two missions had drained him, physically and emotionally.

Luck had once again been on his side, and for the moment he was beginning to believe he had a streak going. The small caliber bullet wound to his shoulder was the cleanest wound the TDU’s doctor had ever seen. Miraculously there was no shrapnel, and the bullet had passed clean through. Once the injury healed he would have full range of motion.

He had survived the unthinkable, but the images of the innocent civilians who had not would be with him the rest of his life. His men had declared the assaults victories, even though the trolley exploded before it hit the CRK headquarters. Obi knew this was just hollow rhetoric, and in reality, the TDU was still losing the war. They would never be able to fight the CRK on an open battlefield; the TDU simply did not have the weapons or the manpower.

And it wasn’t the only battle the TDU was losing. Their guerilla warfare tactics were constantly driving potential Tisaian sympathizers away from their cause.

He knew it would be difficult to win over the hearts and minds of the civilians in Tisaia, but even through the bloodshed and killing, many citizens had joined the ranks of the TDU. It was the platform, the principles of the TDU, which attracted a loyal following. Most people in Tisaia thought the State should share the Biomass and help other nations around the world. That was what rallied them to the TDU’s cause.

A deep thirst distracted Obi from his reflections, and his eyes began to scan the dark room. They finally stopped on the table by his bed and fixated on a tall glass of water, just out of reach. He licked his dry lips and tried to swallow, but his throat was too parched.

Instead, he rubbed his eyes. The door to the room opened and his nurse entered, holding a tray of food and medicine. Obi had seen her around HQ before, but never actually spoken with her. She was close to his age, perhaps a few years older with graying hair and a striking set of brown eyes.

He almost cringed at the sight of her gaunt frame. She was more than likely suffering from malnutrition like many of the other women making up the ranks of the TDU. It was a bad sign, and he didn’t recall her being so emaciated the last time he saw her, which meant food levels were dangerously low.

“Obi, you’re not supposed to be up right now,” she said, smiling.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Here,” she said, holding out a small cup of pills and the glass of water, “this will help you sleep. Take them all and you should be able to rest within minutes.”

“You read my mind,” he said, returning her smile and snatching the glass of water from her hands. He gulped it down, before peering back at the cup of medicine. Pills made him nervous. He preferred to heal naturally.

“Well, go on,” she said. Her brown eyes were persuasive, and besides, he decided he wasn’t in any shape to argue. He gulped down the pills and collapsed back on his thin pillow.

Obi watched her walk over to the door and turn off the lights. “Yell for me if you need anything else,” she said, before disappearing into the hallway.

Obi looked around the dark room again, dizziness beginning to set in. He closed his eyes, and surprisingly, the images he couldn’t shake earlier were gone. Within minutes, he was asleep.

“In the past 72 hours, Obi and his men have successfully taken out a squad of Scorpions and an entire trolley station within Lunia. I think we all should congratulate Squad 19 on this fine and much needed victory!” Commander Heri shouted. A crowd of TDU staffers were huddled in the small war room. A small wave of clapping quickly followed the words of the commander, but died down faster than it had started.

Obi winced as he sat. He knew morale amongst his comrades was low, but the response made it even clearer. The room was filled with veterans of a war that had been going on for over 10 years. The TDU was created after Tisaia had emerged from the aftermath of the Biomass Wars. Now, ten years later, some of the very same people who created the TDU sat in old broken chairs, listening to a new Commander talk of victory.

The bald commander continued, brushing his shiny scalp with one of his hands. “In the next few months, we’ll continue to try and penetrate the CRK’s headquarters. If we can destroy it, the Knights will be left in disarray. This will be the perfect opportunity for the Tisaian people to rise against the State,” the Commander said, another wave of clapping following suit.

“We’re at a crossroads now. The CRK will surely throw everything they have at us. Every Knight will be combing the land above our heads and the tunnels, searching for our headquarters. We must stand united in the face of the enemy. We must fight as if tomorrow is our last day on this earth,” the Commander said, raising his hand above the wooden podium and bringing it down in a fist.

Obi looked over at Ran and Nordica, who shared a bench in the front of the room. Ran watched the commander speak, a sense of hope evident in his gaze. Obi had seen this before, especially in new recruits. In fact, he could remember the same hope he felt when he had joined the ranks of the TDU.

But that was a long time ago, under a different commander. Times were much different now, and Obi didn’t share the same sense of loyalty to Commander Heri that he had to Commander Leona years ago. Heri was weak. Sure, he could inspire through hollow speeches, but he lacked the bravery Commander Leona had shown in battle after battle.

I can still remember fighting next to Leona in the Battle of Lunia, the fight which forced the TDU underground, he thought, watching Commander Heri continue to spit out meaningless words.

Leona had saved the lives of three TDU soldiers that day. Tragically, she was assassinated by a Knight who infiltrated HQ a few years later. She had been the one and only female leader in TDU ranks that consisted mostly of men.

Obi shook his head, trying to rid himself of memories that made him sick to his stomach. All he cared about now was his men and their missions, not Heri and his hollow promises.

He was done worrying about the commander’s hopeless strategies that simply brought the TDU further from their goals. Instead, Obi focused on bringing his men home safe and finding a way to achieve the goal of a better life for those inside and outside of Tisaia. He had always told himself the world wasn’t lost yet, and to this day he still believed it.

Commander Heri paused as his assistant Fukia stepped up to the podium and whispered something into his ear. Obi already knew it couldn’t be good. Fukia would not interrupt a victory speech unless it was important.

Obi glanced over at his squad, who sat huddled around a wooden table. Creo looked back at him, obviously nervous.

“We have a situation,” the Commander began. “Now everyone, please stay calm,” he said, beads of sweat forming on his pale face. “We have intelligence reports that the CRK have scouts in our vicinity.” The room exploded with chatter, as staffers and soldiers nervously began to fidget in their chairs.

“We have our own scouts monitoring for updates. If it comes down to an evacuation, you all know the drill and the rendezvous point. Your superiors will keep you updated. Until then I think it’s best if everyone returns to their posts and prepares for the worst,” the Commander said, as he quickly followed Fukia out of the room.

Obi waited behind and watched the area begin to clear. Through the crowd he could see his squad waiting for his orders. All it took was a simple nod, and the three followed the others out of the War Room. For a few moments Obi sat in silence, contemplating this new development, which he prayed was only a false report. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t—deep down, he knew the Knights had found them again.

Riya clicked on his night vision, turning the nearly pitch black tunnel into a static green. Lupa, Albri and the other four members of the squad followed suit, their goggles coming to life. At a distance the squad almost looked paranormal, their blue goggles glowing like floating orbs in the darkness.

The tunnel came into focus as the team cautiously made their way down the narrow ledge of concrete. They were careful to avoid the standing water a foot below them, anxious not to draw unwanted attention.

Riya cringed as two rats scampered through his feet, prompting him to momentarily lose his footing. “I hate rats,” he muttered, regaining his balance.

“Radio silence,” Albri whispered into his mic, raising his right hand to signal the team to stop. After a moment of silence, he motioned his team forward with a short nod. Riya and Lupa continued on, hugging the bank of the tunnel’s east side, while the rest of the squad took to the west bank.

Lupa grimaced as he stepped on an old can, the aluminum crumbling under the weight of his armored boot. Albri quickly shot him a glance, his blue goggles glowing in the darkness. They had entered what appeared to be an old camp. Several skeletons lay about the concrete walkway, dried up skin clinging to their bones.

Riya cautiously stepped over the empty cans of food and tattered blankets. The scene was one he recalled from his time in the tunnels straight out of the academy. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last one his squad came across. They had entered the tunnels beyond the barrier, the tombs created as a result of Project 1200.

In all of his years combing the tunnels, Riya had only come across one live person. The man was in his seventies and claimed he was not part of the TDU; he had argued extensively he didn’t even know who the TDU was, or what year it was, for that matter. Riya wasn’t sure what happened to him, but he presumed he traded the darkness of the tunnels for some prison cell deep beneath Lunia.

Riya shook the memory out of his mind and continued on, watching Lupa, who cautiously made his way through the green darkness ahead. They came to another platform marking a break in the tunnels and Riya’s heat signature sensor blared to life. His monitor was picking up a small red bleep of life. Albri saw it too, motioning again for the team to stop. He waited several seconds before firing off a quick hand gesture, commanding his squad forward. Lupa and Riya were the first to head out, hugging the concrete walls as they proceeded down the narrow platform.

Suddenly, another two signatures popped up on their displays. They both stopped immediately, using a blur of hand motions to signal contacts. Both Riya and Lupa stayed as close to the wall as possible as they waited for Albri to give them orders.

Silence washed over the tunnel as the squad waited in the darkness. For Riya, it was the stillness that killed him.

He took a deep breath, as Albri gave him and Lupa the green light to engage. Riya looked at his display before proceeding. The heat signals weren’t moving. A knot tore into his stomach, his mind trying to tell him what he already knew. The contacts weren’t rats. No, rats moved when they were scared. Rebels hid.

Riya nodded at Lupa as he followed him slowly onto the platform. God, I hope this isn’t an ambush, he thought, raising his assault rifle and training it on the northern tunnel entrance. The sound of his clanking armor echoed in his helmet with every step. His armor was never as loud as he thought it was, and he knew his helmet amplified sounds while his ears further scrutinized his every move.

Riya watched Lupa jump gracefully from the tunnel ledge to the platform. He quickly followed suit, crashing on his armored knees, his rifle still trained on the heat signatures ahead. Within seconds he was back on his feet, making his way closer to the targets. Behind them Albri and company watched nervously.

Lupa stopped suddenly. It was deathly quiet, the tunnel almost completely void of noise, save for a small drip of water from a loose pipe somewhere above them.

Riya took a knee and brought his rifle to his goggles, glassing the tunnel with the crosshairs in his scope before peering back at Lupa. He was still crouched against the wall. His white outline reminded Riya of one of the statues lining the courtyards outside the State office buildings.

And then one of the red heat signatures moved. Without hesitation, both soldiers fired two shots at the mobile targets, the bullets penetrating the thick concrete walls of the tunnel and sending fragments of rock and concrete into the air. A trail of smoke bled out of their barrels as the Knights waited for a response, but once again, silence washed over them.

They dropped their rifles to their sides, signaling to the rest of the team to proceed. The heat signatures must have been rats.

The squad cautiously filtered out of the tunnel, jumping onto the platform one by one to join Riya and Lupa. Albri made his way through the soldiers and stopped in the middle of the concrete platform, taking a knee to examine his tablet.

“According to this map, we’re standing on a platform that isn’t supposed to exist. The only option is to head north. It will take us deeper into the tunnels,” he said, calmly.

“I want Loi and Bria on point now. Ai, you, Riya, and Lupa watch our six.”

The Knights nodded and headed for the north storm drain, but before Ai had time to jump off the platform, an explosion ripped through the ground, sending him flying through the air.

“Ambush!” Riya screamed, diving for cover.

An eruption of gunfire filled the dark tunnel, tails of fire spitting out of the Knights’ assault rifles. Ahead, Riya could make out two men firing rifles from the north tunnel and another two from the south.

Riya kneeled, firing at the men in the north tunnel first, and turned to finish his clip at the attackers behind him.

In a matter of seconds the room was filled with chunks of rock and smoke as the Knights emptied their weapons into the darkness. The firing from the attackers grew silent.

“Cease fire,” Albri said over the com.

Riya’s armored chest heaved in and out as he pulled out his spent clip. He cocked his head to make sure Lupa was okay before turning back to the tunnel.

“Report,” Albri whispered into his mic.

“Negative on heat signatures,” Riya said, desperately trying to hide the fear in his voice.

“Riya, Lupa, check on contacts,” Albri responded.

Within seconds the two were running towards the north tunnel while Albri and Loi went to check on the south tunnel. Bria headed towards the area he had last seen Ai.

Arriving at the end of the platform, Lupa and Riya looked down into the tunnel water below. The bodies of two men lay warped in the murky water, a trail of red liquid seeping from their cooling bodies.

“Two casualties,” Riya said, over his com.

“Two here as well,” Albri responded. “What’s Ai’s status?” A brief silence followed, and static crackled.

“He’s gone; took a rocket right in the side. There isn’t much left but twisted armor.”

Albri grimaced, pausing before he brought his hand up to his com. “Roger. We’ll get a crew down here to retrieve his body. In the meantime, we move on. We have to be close to their HQ. Bria, call in reinforcements and let Supreme Knight Morr know our location.”

“Roger,” Bria responded.

In seconds the team was moving, reloading their weapons and brushing dust off their armor. There was no time to mourn Ai, and everyone in the squad knew it. They were Dark Horses and had a job to do. Ai would get the proper funeral and respect he deserved when the mission was complete.

Riya led the smaller team into the north tunnel, firing two quick shots into the TDU member’s skulls as he walked passed them, ensuring they were dead. He wasn’t nervous about attracting any more attention with his rifle; the entire squad knew the TDU would more than likely be aware of their presence by now. The challenge was going to be infiltrating and destroying their HQ before they packed up and moved to another location.

Somewhere in Riya’s gut, he felt lucky. Part of it was probably due to the fact he hadn’t ended up mangled like Ai, but it wasn’t just that. He couldn’t deny the tingle of excitement racing through his body. It could have been adrenaline, or it could have been the scent of the elusive TDU. Whatever it was, he was just glad the knot began to loosen as he made his way through the darkness. If Albri was right, then they were close to the TDU’s headquarters. Whatever danger lurked in the darkness he was prepared to face it. He wasn’t just a Knight; he was a Dark Horse.