The Transport

Chapter 14 - Herbert

Herbert's Monday afternoon and evening went in a blur. Carling had become the Supreme Commander and true to form, he had started commanding where commanding had been totally unnecessary. Herbert had to bite his tongue more than once to comply with the wishes. Most of them totally superfluous, as the plan was agreed anyway: convert as many Legion Analytic managers and employees as possible as they needed human bodies to execute tomorrows plan. By late evening, Herbert was not unhappy. For once. Most planned names, especially the direct reports of Carling, had been converted, plus some additional crucial team members they needed to train tonight.

The Supreme Commander was not a happy human. He complained about the outstanding converts and the time pressure whenever they crossed off another name. And he complained about the rejects, too. Unfortunately, yes, but it had been clear from the beginning that not every human body was able to act as host. That had been calculated into the plan, but the Commander was unhappy anyway.

"This is a sub-standard species, I tell you!" the Supreme Commander lamented. "Hadn't there been any other option? Dogs appear to be much more robust. And they are being served by the humans."

"It only appears that way. Dogs are mere pets, household items, food. Humans are the domineering species and the only one highly-enough developed to pull off our operation. You know this," Herbert tried once more to talk sense into his leader and to bring his focus back to the important matters.

"Yeah, but still, their metabolism is crap. I feel fear. I feel nervousness. These people are no heroes, that much I know. Pussies!"

Herbert grudgingly nodded — what else could he do? — and proceeded on. Fortunately, all the Converts grasped the sensory and neural concepts of their hosts quickly and were able to get to their assigned tasks.

The complete group held a late-night meeting in Legion's biggest meeting room, closed doors and pulled shades, to see where they stood. A few hard-core, unconverted employees were still around, so they had to be careful.

The Supreme Commander called for order. "Shut up, you all. Let's see where we stand. Herbert."

Herbert leaned against the door frame of the meeting room, tired as hell. "Fourteen executed conversions. Two rejects. You all have your lists for tomorrow morning, five or six more are needed. Plus whatever you can manage; the more the better." Various people in the group nodded. "By noon, we must be in position. Contact at the rendezvous point is at 1500 hours."

"Three hours in the burning desert heat? Isn't that risky? We run into danger of dehydration or a heat stroke," someone asked.

"It's a compromise," Herbert explained. "You will be under camouflage covers, no direct sunlight. And everyone has calculated four bottles of water at disposal which you will use, please. Drink continuously. We must get into position undetected. And even at noon this will be a risk. There might be fly-overs, so we need to be quick in settling in."