In the air over what used to be known as Haiti.
Four fighter jets whooshed over Port-au-Prince at Mach 7 on a patrol route that provided full scanning coverage of the paralyzed city. Though they were flying fast and low, the sonic boom following them wasn’t any noisier than a regular pre-empire passenger jet, if not even quieter.
[Scanning complete. Proceed to the next destination.]
The pilots of the jets acknowledged their orders and increased their speed to Mach 8.4 as they headed southwest toward Carrefour, surrounded by an invisible bubble stretching fifteen kilometers in every direction. Their mission was simple, though emotionally and physically draining; they were performing deep scans on each city they passed over in an attempt to pinpoint possible survivors of the wave of terrorist attacks carried out only minutes before.
Similar operations were being carried out all over the world as the Aeolus Air Force sent out squadron after squadron of Aeolus ES-75 Catseye reconnaissance and electronic warfare jets, directing them to the worst of the terrorist attack sites to scan for possible survivors. That way Minerva and Asclepius could plan the most efficient rescue plan possible.
……
Gravelines, Hauts-de-France.
Earlier, two terrorists had infiltrated the Gravelines Nuclear Power Station, near Dunkirk, dressed as janitors. After eliminating the control room operator and senior reactor operator, they swiftly disabled all automatic safety measures connected to the reactor by the expedient use of a fireman’s axe. Then they destroyed the coolant pipes and moved to the reactor control room, where they increased the reactor output to maximum and initiated a coolant flush, draining the reactor dry.
A few minutes later, alarms began blaring all over the facility as the reactor went above safe temperatures. Soon, a radioactive cake would be baked and the entire facility would be on the brink of a meltdown.
Shortly after the alarms began, though, a fleet of helicopters arrived from the cube on the outskirts of Paris. They landed on the field outside the facility and disgorged dozens of Rescue and Emergency Service - Quick Reaction (RES-QR) bots. Each bot was the size and shape of an adult honey badger and rapidly trundled along on twelve legs. They were painted a pristine white and had the international medic symbol, a red cross, on their backs.
The RES-QR bots swarmed into the facility and immediately headed toward the reactor that was rapidly approaching a meltdown. In order to not interfere with the evacuating staff, they traveled along the ceilings, the artificial gravity plating on their bellies telling the known laws of physics to kindly go fuck themselves as they changed the definition of the word “down”.
Soon, they reached the reactor where their versatility was showcased. Four of them dropped from the ceiling and their slightly curved backs opened like the protective shell of ladybugs to display dozens of small, tightly packed manipulator arms tipped with various tools. Each of them extended one of their manipulator arms and a thin high-powered cutting laser shot from the tips and carved an entrance in the emergency blast door that would allow two of the RES-QR bots to enter the reactor chamber side by side.
Behind them, a dozen others opened their compartments and extended manipulator arms tipped with spray nozzles. They sprayed a formula of rapid-set concrete, and soon, the RES-QRs had blocked the hallway leading to the reactor core with an eight-foot-thick slab of what Lab City researchers had named instacrete.
Once the entryway was blocked, the four RES-QRs that had cut through the blast door removed the “plug” and the swarm of bots scuttled into the chamber, where they began working on the reactor itself. Some sprayed it with liquid helium, others disassembled the core housing, and still others scuttled around disconnecting cables and piping. It was only a matter of minutes until the reactor had been neatly disassembled and the fuel rods removed, eliminating the risk of a meltdown entirely, though the evacuation continued apace.
……
Istanbul.
“Why aren’t you doing anything to rescue people from the bridge?” a man with a pressure dressing on his skull asked in anger. He had been quite lucky, as had everyone else on the bridge in the end. Though there were demolition charges strapped to all four of the support cables, three pairs of them had failed, leaving only one cable cut. But his situation was special; when the charge went off and the train derailed, he had been thrown from the train in good enough condition to scramble the rest of the way off the bridge.
Many others weren’t so lucky.
But he couldn’t understand why, despite the first responders’ rapid arrival, they had done nothing but rescue those on the bridge’s embankment and set up a perimeter to prevent others from getting close to the slowly collapsing bridge. Other than that, the only “rescues” happening were taking place in the water, where boats were practically carpeting the river’s surface and pulling up corpse after corpse of those who had fallen to their deaths.
“We’re waiting for the structural survey to be complete and for rescue equipment to arrive, sir. Please remain calm,” the paramedic said, then attempted to leave.
The man grabbed the paramedic’s shoulder and forcefully turned him back around. He dragged the first responder closer and got right up in his face, then screamed, “My wife is in there, and you’re telling me you’re just waiting for her to die? While you do NOTHING!?”
The paramedic maintained his professional calm and said, “Sir, if we attempt to move onto the bridge without surveying the wreckage first, all it’ll do is increase the risk of a catastrophic collapse. Then everyone on that bridge, including the rescuers, will die. Do you want to take that risk now, or wait for a few minutes while we survey the site and go in with proper preparation? If you want us to risk it now, your wife will definitely die.”
“You’re just trying to avoid responsibility and shirk your job! I don’t see anyone doing any surveying, so why—” the low rumble of a squadron of Aeolus ES-75 jets passing overhead interrupted the angry man. They disappeared into the distance before the sound of their arrival had died down, even as quiet as it was.
A chime rang in the paramedic’s ear and his gaze unfocused for a moment as he read the notification he had just received. He ignored the still-screaming patient in front of him as he gave his full attention to the 3d image of the falling bridge that appeared in his view, then his gaze refocused and he said, “Look.”
The medic enabled the external hologram projector on his AR glasses and projected an image of the bridge for the man who had been screaming in his face just moments before. He pointed out the different highlights on the bridge and explained the route he would be taking, which would prevent the bridge from collapsing until the RES-QR bots arrived and shored it up with instacrete.
The wounded man couldn’t help but calm down in surprise and be impressed by what he had seen. Then the initial surprise wore off and, with newfound hope in his eyes, he excitedly said, “You can start the rescue now, right?”
“Yes,” the medic said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have work to do.” He turned around and joined the rest of the rescue crews and moved out to rescue the people trapped in the derailed train.
