Digital Exodus Chapter 25 (Patreon)

The van lurched as Gloria wove through increasingly panicked civilian traffic. Traffic that the cops didn't care at all about hitting with their excessive attempts to stop us.

“Damn it, how many missiles do those birds have— Motherfucker!” The whole van bounced and tipped alarmingly. Gloria, even as she continued to swear up a storm, righted the van with a deft twist of the steering wheel. “Alia! Pop the door and take them out! I threw the MANPADS under the back seats!”

The fuck was a man pad? A sanitary— Oh, missile launchers.

Pulling one of the arm-length tubes out from beneath me, I inspected it. Underneath the tube, there was a helpful little pistol grip, although it didn't have a trigger. Instead, there was a small ergonomic section near the thumb with a big red button. Near that button was a curved screen that flipped out from where it was currently stored flush with the tube. Written helpfully along the edge of the screen there was text saying, ‘Step 1: Flip this screen open.’

I did as I was asked and flipped it open. It locked in place perpendicular to the tube, and half a second after it was out, the screen lit up. On the uppermost bezel of the screen was some more text reading, ‘Step 2: Point at target until lock icon is solid and a steady tone is heard.’

Okay, that was simple enough.

Using my free hand, I grasped the handle of the rear door and opened it. To my surprise, it swung downwards, creating an odd little platform. A miniature garage door thingy even slid up to protect the window.

Giving a mental command, I informed my android body that under no circumstances was it to fall over or drop the weapon. Time for this android body and its software to earn their keep.

The car swerved and jerked again as I stepped out, but of its own volition my free hand snapped out to grab at a handle near the top of the door frame. Using that as leverage, I stood up straight and brought the launcher around to point at the nearest dropship.

The damn thing was flying backwards! It was a sleek, black, and vaguely bird-shaped craft with a tinted front window and an obvious bulge underneath where the passenger compartment was. Under its stubby wings near where they connected to the hull were four high-weight-capacity anti-gravity modules, two under each wing. My launcher's software really liked them, and it was exceedingly happy to get a lock on the dropship thanks to them.

On the screen, some more helpful text appeared, “Lock Confirmed. Step 3: Press the big red button (Near your thumb).”

Just as I was about to do so, the ship swerved and a whole cascade of little black orbs poured out from its tail. Suddenly, the launcher's software was extremely confused and it made its irritation known with a loud series of bleeps.

I'm confused too, I said to the launcher digitally. It didn't respond, but I wasn't expecting it to. What I did expect was for the black orbs to drop to the ground… but they didn't. They zipped away in all directions at extreme speeds, further confusing both me and my weapon. The ship had stopped firing at least as it shot straight up into the air.

“Give it a couple seconds,” David's voice said over Exodus Network comms. “Poor bastard popped his load too early, that's why he's running.”

Oh. Pointing the front of the launcher up at the craft, the software quickly began to get a lock on the rapidly fading vehicle. This time, I hit the big red button. It squished weirdly as I did so, and I suppressed a shudder. Ew, why wasn't the button more clicky? Goddess, that sensation was awful!

In my arms, the launcher suddenly shuddered and a dark tube with fins leapt out of the front. It seemed to hang in the air for the briefest of moments until its rocket engine ignited and it leapt up after the dropship.

The time from the rocket lighting up til impact was blindingly fast. One, maybe two seconds after I pressed the criminally mushy button, the missile found its target.

The explosion wasn't what I was expecting. In the movies, there's always a big fireball, but I knew that wasn't realistic. There wasn't a dull smokey explosion either, though. Instead, it seemed to almost punch through the aircraft in a molten, concussive splash. Everything in a cone starting at the impact point was turned into a devastated molten shrapnel cloud. Everything that used to rely on that area for structural integrity suddenly found itself spinning through the air trailing smoke—Except the loose equipment and the bodies. Those flailed and twisted in the air as they began their fatal dive towards the ground.

My heart sank at the sight of the people up there, but I desperately jumped on that feeling and shoved it aside to sit with the corpses of the cops who'd tried to take our van. I wasn't looking forward to when that psychological debt came due.

“God damn. Nice shot!” Gloria exclaimed happily. “Fuck the police!”

“Ha!” Jason laughed. “Your jackboots don't do you any good in freefall!”

Gosh, that was jarring. I'm over here agonising over the lives I just took while my friends celebrated their deaths.

“There's still more,” Roger reminded us. “Stay on task. Alia, how many more of those MANPADS do we have?”

“Um…” I clambered back inside the van and knelt to check. “Two.”

“Okay,” came our leader's tense reply. “Not enough to take all of them out, then. Save the rest for when we really need them. We got ourselves some breathing room, regardless. The other dropship and its supporting aircars have backed away for the moment—”

The van lurched again as Gloria swerved around a sleek self-driving sedan with a pair of terrified twenty-something girls in the front seats. Still somewhat standing on the rear door, I was able to make eye contact with the nearest girl.

Then her head exploded as a vicious stream of automatic gunfire shredded the whole car, passed through, and scattered across our armour like hail. W-what? How? No… oh god, oh fuck…

Suddenly, I felt very lightheaded. Mercifully, I had just enough control left to slam my clock speed into its highest gear.

That was when I saw the first of the police ground cars. They were several lanes over, frozen in place due to my extreme perception of time, the muzzles of their assault rifles still wisping with smoke.

Those… those… those vile, abhorrent, rusted sacks of cunt bile! Those morally bankrupt wastes of biological matter! They fired straight through a civilian car just to bounce some bullets off our armoured van? I was right here, too! I was an open and free shot over the sedan, it was so low to the ground, but… did… why? Our tires, maybe?

I knew the police could be corrupt—I mean, I was friends with people who would celebrate the deaths of cops, but… not even waiting until there weren't civilians in the way was a whole other level of callous brutality.

Why? What was even happening? We hadn't even done anything illegal by the time they were following us! They burst into that apartment not even with boots and shotguns! They just annihilated the entire front wall with bullets, and for what? Six random Exodans, three slum dwellers, and a PI?

“Hey, little one,” Cerri murmured into my ear, causing me to mentally twitch. “I saw your clock speed and power draw spike, are you okay?”

I sent her the current frozen image from my android's eyes. “They just shot two women in front of me. I think they were trying to hit our tires.”

“Your tires aren't even vulnerable to punctures. They're rubber lattice tires,” Cerri said, confused.

“Cerri, they killed them,” I said, kind of frustrated that she focused on such an inconsequential detail.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I just meant that even if they hit the tires, it wouldn't do anything, so shooting through that car was extremely unnecessary. I can't even begin to understand what kind of awful person would do that for such a slim chance to gain an advantage.”

I felt her presence envelop me in a tender mental hug, and my virtual heart rate slowed slightly. “Cerri… why did they… I know cops aren't the friends of the common people, but don't they at least have to appear to serve and protect? How will they… I just… I don't understand.”

“They were able to drop that veneer a long time ago, my love,” she said gently. “With drones, AI, dropships, and all their other tools of war, there's nothing the lower classes can do. Even if every single person that is statistically considered lower class rose up in open revolt, it still wouldn't be enough to take on the decimal point percenters and their police enforcers.”

I felt sick all over again at her words, but also there was a sort of horrified calm that fell over me. I no longer felt any remorse for shooting down that drop ship. Now… now I wanted more bodies.

My sense of time once more collided with the natural cadence of the universe, and I reached for the LMG I had left on my seat. The maimed sedan with its murdered passengers wobbled and veered off past our rear—the bullets probably destroyed some of its sensors which horribly confused the computer.

With my line of fire empty of civilians, I pulled my weapon to my shoulder as if it were a lightweight carbine and took aim. My digi-frame, meshed with my android body as it was, pulled and prodded my limbs like the fly-by-wire systems of a jet fighter might interpret the whims of the pilot, and I got a solid bead on the cops.

My finger squeezed once, twice, three times, and two hundred and eleven bullets were in the air. Holy hell, but this thing could spit bullets.

The cops and their car were torn to shreds by the barrage. Composite and aluminium from the car mixed with blood and organ meat from the shitheads inside in a glorious display of carnage. A second later, the car swerved and hit the freeway barrier with its side. Sparks flew as it shed speed from the brutal friction, and the car was lost behind us.

“Fuckin’ christ!” Jason cried in alarm. “Alia? Was that you?”

“Yes,” I said curtly, still internally shuddering with rage and grief. The sight of that girl's head evaporating was burned into my mind's eye.

Cerri’s tone was sober when she said over comms, “Alia just learned how truly evil our society's police can really be.”