Will McIntosh - Defenders

Willing himself to ignore the comment, he turned to Wiewall and asked, “How will you convey battle instructions to the—what are they called?”

She wonders if you’re autistic.

“Defenders. That’s the point—humans can’t know the defenders’ intentions; otherwise the Luyten will as well. They fight independently. They develop their own battle plans.”

He gawked at Wiewall. “You’re kidding me.”

“They don’t look it, but they’re extremely intelligent. They’re epigenetically primed to learn extremely rapidly. They learn to speak in a matter of weeks. Then, when they’re not here training, they’re in a classroom studying warfare. All they know is military strategy and tactics. They don’t sleep, so their training is almost nonstop.”

Oliver didn’t know what he’d been expecting. An airborne virus that affected Luyten but not humans. A new superweapon. He hadn’t expected this. If the Luyten could read the defenders’ minds, though, they’d be nothing but bigger targets.

“You said your medical people think the Luyten’s ability won’t work without serotonin present. How confident are they?”

Wiewall paused, then, in a careful, deliberate tone, said, “Some are more confident than others.”

You just scratched inside your nose. Yes, it was just barely inside, but it doesn’t matter. Do you know how uncomfortable you just made her? Do you see how she’s averting her eyes? It drove Vanessa crazy when you did things like that in public.

Oliver squeezed his eyes closed, knowing that would only make him seem odder to Wiewall, but needing a moment to regain his composure.

“Five isn’t going to help you,” he said, opening his eyes. “He understands what the stakes are. He’ll die first.”

The young scientist’s expression did not instill confidence. “I was told that wasn’t my concern.”

“Whose concern is it? Mine? Because I’m telling you right now, Five may talk to me, but believe me, he doesn’t say anything useful.”

Dr. Wiewall swallowed. She was blinking rapidly, clearly uneasy. “I’m not sure what to say. If there’s a plan, there may be a good reason no one in the Luyten’s range is aware of it. Or maybe they’re just hoping the Luyten will slip up. I don’t know.”

Chuckling morosely, Oliver looked at the ceiling. “If that’s the plan, they don’t know Five very well.”

March 12, 2030. Easter Island.

Hands on hips, his breathing slightly labored from the walk up the sloping field, Oliver took in the line of statues. Moai , the locals called them. They were watching the horizon, their faces resolute. Waiting. At least that’s how it looked to Oliver, now that he’d seen the defenders. The resemblance was uncanny. How the geneticists had engineered that resemblance, Oliver could not imagine.

“What do you know,” Oliver said aloud. “Maybe the Hulk and Spider-Man showed up after all.”

No response. Oliver thought he knew why Five had gone mute: He didn’t want to risk tipping off Oliver about whether he could read the defenders.

So much had changed since Oliver learned of the defenders. Five had been right—before, Oliver had had very little hope. There had seemed no reason for hope. Humanity had been whittled from seven billion to under four in a matter of three years. They were surrounded by the Luyten, crowded into the cities, starved of food and resources. All that seemed left was for the Luyten to wipe out the cities.

“Dr. Bowen.” It was Wiewall, on the comm he’d been provided.

“Yes, ma’am?” he replied, then winced as he heard how stupid he sounded calling her ma’am. His attempts at levity usually fell flat.

“You’d better start heading back. They’re bringing the Luyten down in a few minutes.”

“On my way.”

Oliver took one last look at the Moai, and realized some were the same height as the defenders.

Wiewall and a CIA security guy who’d introduced himself as Ski led Oliver into what looked to be a medical bay where a lone defender waited, sitting against the wall, one of its three legs canted. The defender watched them enter but otherwise didn’t acknowledge them. Oliver wondered if it had a name, if it would know what to do if Oliver went over and introduced himself. Its expression was as unreadable as the Moai.

As they waited, others filed into the room, including the commander of the operation, Colonel Willis. Oliver had met him earlier, thought he seemed like a bright, decent guy.

The hum of machinery interrupted his thoughts; Oliver turned. The big forklift was bringing Five, still caged, into the room.

The defender’s reaction was immediate. It stood, stared at Five, craning its neck to see the Luyten better. Then it began to pace, never taking its eyes off Five, keeping a uniform distance.

“This is the first time it’s ever been in the presence of a Luyten,” Wiewall whispered. “They’re conditioned to despise them.”

The defender looked down, then back up at the Luyten.

“Is the Luyten communicating with you?” Wiewall asked.

“No. Five’s giving me the silent treatment.” Oliver raised his voice. “Aren’t you, Five?”

I wonder if Vanessa went ahead and fucked Paul after you were so convinced she already had. Maybe they’re living together now.

Oliver did his best to ignore the comment. This was too important; he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.

The defender paused in front of a table built in along the wall. It picked something up, then resumed pacing. Oliver squinted, straining to see what the defender had picked up.

It was a bayonet. Large enough to look formidable in the defender’s hand.

“What’s it doing?” Oliver asked. He looked around, but no one responded. There were about a dozen people present now. All eyes were on the defender.

Oliver turned, studied Five, who was watching the defender. There was nothing in its manner that might indicate whether it knew what the defender was thinking, although Oliver had always struggled to read the Luyten’s body language.

The defender stopped pacing. Its mouth a tight line, it took a deep breath through its nose, exhaled. With shocking speed, it hurled the bayonet at Five.

An instant later, the bayonet was embedded in one of Five’s limbs—it had gone right through the eye set in that limb. A cawing filled the room, multiple voices squawking in an eerie harmony. It took Oliver a moment to realize it was Five, screaming in pain and surprise through all of his mouths at once.

He hadn’t even tried to duck. The attack had caught Five completely by surprise.

Oliver rushed toward the Luyten. Five was gripping the bayonet with the cilia that served as his hand, pulling carefully, trembling from the pain.

“Kill you all,” Five said aloud, the pitch of his voice rising and falling. Gasps ran through the small crowd.

Five worked the knife out a half inch. Black blood dribbled from the ruined eye, pooling along the ridge that ran from each limb, spiraling to the center of his body.

“They won’t stop us. We’ll kill you all.” Five pried the bayonet farther.

“Can somebody help it, for God’s sake?” Oliver said. He glanced at the people now clustered around Five’s prison. “Are any of you medical personnel?”

A man with heavy jowls studied Oliver, then glanced at Five. “Let it bleed awhile.”

Oliver pointed into the cage. “That’s the only Luyten who has ever communicated with a human being. Do you really want to let it die?”

Drawn out of a stunned stupor by Oliver’s raised voice, Colonel Willis said, “He’s right. Get the thing patched up.”