The Arkansas Anomaly

by HC Leung / HC_Leung

The sandstorm struck without warning. It swallowed up the Ranger and the road he took through the desert. A veil of dust rose above the raging gust. Day turned into night, and the parched land knitted into the red-brown sky.

Bucehengge. Ilusun, a Ranger from the Plain White Banner, cursed his wristband sensor. It was supposed to forecast the volatile weather, but this time it had failed to serve its purpose. Ancient technologies broke down often. Either the parts needed replacement, or the tech had received an improper modification. For Ilusun, it was probably the latter.

Warning: Wind speed 90 mph and increasing. Seek shelter immediately.

His helmet screen flashed danger signs repeatedly. The active thermal layer in his exosuit regulated his body temperature. No shelter, Ilusun entered prone position. He hugged the land and held onto his railgun rifle. Under Nature's wrath, he once again became minuscule.

The thought of Nadanju tore him. If she was here, she would hold his hand and assure him everything would be alright. But she wasn't, and no one but Ilusun was to blame.

Wretched storm. Ilusun cursed some more. He checked his wristband, and the real-time meteorological data looked abysmal. The mission might have to be aborted. It was not the ending he wanted.

The mission was supposed to be simple. Find Arkansas, the 2.5 km wide trash heap formed by last year's winds, and bring back anything useful - quantum processors, solid-state batteries, Jurchen steel panels, and so forth. Anything from the ancient times was desirable. The Plain White Banner's warehouse reserves were running low.

Since time immemorial, man had been scavenging trash for survival. The ability to make and craft things had been lost, but society still needed machine parts to carry on. That was why Rangers like Ilusun were indispensable; they were mentally and physically fit to roam the deserts solo.

But where did trash come from? Nobody knew. Not even the banner rulers, nor the shamans who worshiped the stars for them. For thousands of years, trash had just been sitting there. The past had been long forgotten. Man did not know his origin.

Arkansas was not the only trash heap out there. But it was the largest. The sheer tonnage of salvageable hardware, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. If Ilusun could prove the heap's value, all the Eight Banners would join in on the scavenging operation. He'd be a hero, the one who struck gold. People would finally have more in their possession.

But nothing had gone according to plan. Ilusun's Warrior off-road vehicle broke down halfway through the expedition. Then he encountered the weather. Trapped, blinded, and disoriented, his hope was all but obliterated.

By the time the storm passes, Arkansas might be gone. Trash heaps were not stationary; they were shifting landforms constantly battered by the winds. Here today, gone tomorrow - such was the motto of this inhospitable world.

And people knew this too well. Hergenbithe, the holy scripture, described an order in which man was the lowest. We lived under the mercy of Nature. We were insignificant.

The sandstorm was persistent and showed no signs of abating. The howling wind sounded like lost souls wailing.

Ilusun opened his comms. "This is Ranger Alpha One calling all units. Mayday, mayday, requesting immediate assistance, can anyone copy, over?"

No response. Nothing but white noise static. It was like talking to an abyss.

Warning: Exosuit power near depletion, shutting down non-essential systems. Seek shelter now.

The exosuit became sluggish as it terminated 1183 out of 1200 runtime programs. The live feed on his helmet screen became choppy. This was it. Time to accept his destiny.

Then a woman answered the call. Her voice was music amidst the storm. "This is Taiji Hotel Six, did someone call for help, over?"

Ilusun almost burst into tears. "That's me! Please track my fast radio burst signal in grid two-four-nine-four, and hurry!"

"Copy that, Ranger Alpha One. Be advised, we're in a bit of a charlie foxtrot situation now, but will head towards your position-"

Her voice got cut off by gunfire exchanging in the background.

"Hotel Six, come in."

"Apologies for the interruption, Alpha One. We are inbound, standby for rescue."

Ten minutes later, a large silhouette loomed into view. It resembled a bathtub with headlights and eight wheels. A loud engine roar, and the armored vehicle charged through the dust wall. It cast its turret-mounted searchlight on Ilusun before coming to a stop.

Z-10 Marauder armored personnel carrier. A relic from the ancient times. Hard to maintain but incredibly sturdy, it was the backbone of the Eight Banner's mechanized force.

Two, maybe three soldiers got off the vehicle. They lifted Ilusun and carried him up the rear ramp door. Seated. Buckled. The driver with infrared goggles closed the cargo bay and floored the gas pedal.

"Go, go, go!" the same woman from the radio shouted. She had a golden insignia on her armor, suggesting she was an O-4. "The Harmonious Fist is still on our tail!"

Ilusun took off his helmet. He gasped for breath and felt the grit on his skin, teeth, inside his nose, and the back of his sticky throat. The light was low in the cabin. His elbows were always nudging into others.

The 25-tonne armored vehicle rumbled against the sandstorm. Ilusun found an outlet and plugged in his exosuit. The system core rebooted as soon as it was recharged. Its performance would return to normal levels in an hour or so.

He accessed his wristband. Menu>NoneCombatFunctions>Healing>Execute. His exosuit injected acupuncture needles throughout his body's stimulation points. Soon, he felt warm energy sweeping from head to toe.

Relaxed, Ilusun looked around. There were six fully-armed soldiers in the vehicle, all looking stern. Except for the woman, who had long dark hair and was staring at him with soulful eyes. She came to some kind of conclusion.

"Is that you, Ilusun?"

"Nadanju?" he asked as well.

"Ahem, it's Major Nadanju," a younger-looking officer next to her interjected. "I'm Captain Arsalan from the Bordered Yellow Banner. This is my squad. We're escorting the Major on a mission. Just so you know, the Major is also my legally registered love partner."

"Well good for you, pretty boy," Ilusun said without batting an eye. He had a habit of being dismissive, which was why he preferred to work as a lone operative. "It's been a while, Nad- I mean Major."

"It's been ten years," Nadanju added. Her pupils were dilated as if charmed by a spell. "Can't believe of all places, I ran into you here."

"Never thought I'd see you again," said Ilusun, while brushing off dust off his shoulders.

"What were you doing out there?" asked Nadanju.

"Looking for Arkansas. And you? I noticed your APC is unmarked. No banner, no vehicle number. Don't tell me you're running some kind of black op."

"That's not for you to know," said Arsalan.

"It's okay, buyembi," Nadanju assured. "Ilusun is an old friend. We can trust him."

"But the mission's classified," Arsalan argued. "And he's not from our banner."

"I'll take full responsibility." Nadanju's eyes were filled with conviction. She was keen to divulge sensitive information.

"Guys, I'm getting old here," Ilusun joked.

The APC drove over a bump and sprung up the passengers. Nadanju was not bothered. "We're heading to Arkansas too, but not for the same reason as you."

"It's a heap of trash," Ilusun remarked. "What else are you going to find there?"

"Do you remember the first verse in Hergenbithe?" she asked.

In the beginning, there was the Fall.

Ilusun used to study the scripture. He would draw faith from each of the verses. But life's hardship proved too enormous; surviving the weather, constantly scraping by on the bare minimum. It was not long before drinking took over. He quit officer training school when depression and spontaneous anger became common. He pushed Nadanju away, pushed everyone away until only his shadow remained. He signed up with the Plain White Banner's Ranger Corps as a form of self-exile. Only in the desert could he face his cowardice, the way he fell into the abyss on his own accord.

And now, an old flame has reappeared before him. A second chance, perhaps?

"The meaning of the verse has always eluded us," Nadanju continued. "Despite numerous interpretations, the consensus is that it refers to our origin. We now have evidence suggesting the answer lies inside Arkansas. The once in a hundred years trash heap was not formed by the winds, but by an anomaly in the local magnetic field."

"You're telling me Arkansas was not a natural phenomenon?" asked Ilusun.

"Yes," Nadanju confirmed. "If you look at the landscape terrain and the weather data from the past twelve months, nothing about Arkansas adds up. It wasn't supposed to happen. Something caused it, something that has to do with the secret of our origin."

"Who are the Harmonious Fist? Why are they after you?"

Arsalan answered this time. "They're a secret society we've been watching for years. Their members are religious fanatics drawn from all the banners. In their view, Hergenbithe forbids us from learning the truth of our origin. They've been chasing us ever since we departed from Qiqiha'er. We started as a convoy of twelve. Now it's just us."

Ilusun kicked back and sighed. "My stars, what have you gotten me into this time?"

"Knowing our origin is important," said Nadanju. "It'll give us a future. An entire generation of people will live with purpose."

"Purpose, that does sound important. Too bad I'm only concerned with my next chow."

"Told you he's not worth it," Arsalan whispered to his officer/lover.

Nevertheless, Nadanju remained convinced. She would not waver as if she had seen the future. "Master sergeant Ilusun and I go way back. I know him. He'll come through."

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Nothing much was said while the vehicle kept cruising. Ilusun thought hard about Arkansas. But his mind was as turbulent as the winds outside the hull.

Purpose. What a joke. Why do we need it? Generations of people had gotten by with just the bare minimum - isn't that enough? Why challenge the status quo? Why are we so ashamed of our present selves?

He scratched his hair, so much it hurt his scalp. Nadanju always had hope and always inspired people to rally for her cause. And that was the reason why he despised himself because he fell and never stood back up. The woman he loved belonged to the top, and the best he could do was to watch from afar.

Across the cabin, Arsalan held Nadanju's hand in a firm but gentle way. The young captain may not be much, but at least he shared her ideas. He was the better man, all in all, the one who could follow Nadanju until the end.

Ilusun smirked. Life, no matter how tangled, always worked itself out. As long as it favored Nadanju, he could accept any outcome.

Arkansas. The enormous trash heap emerged from the horizon. And perhaps by coincidence, the storm had cleared up as well. A rounded, vertical mound, Arkansas was an assemblage of unwanted stuff. Silent, solemn, and monumental, it bore testament to a lavish and wasteful time period.

The Marauder did not stop until something was seen protruding from the mound. It was metallic and badly rusted, cantilevering twenty meters off the ground.

Ramp down. Arsalan's tactical team poured out. Guns forward, sensors outward, they fanned out into an arrowhead formation. At the rear, Ilusun accompanied Nadanju as an armed escort. Once he came under the shadow of the long, sharp object, his jaws dropped.

Never before had he seen such a grand structure. He did not know how it was possible, or whether it was real at all. Hergenbithe had made references to an ark that once roamed the stars. Maybe this was it. No, this HAD to be it.

"Is this the anomaly?" asked Ilusun.

"None other," Nadanju answered. She conducted a partial scan with her wristband sensor. "We're at ground zero of the magnetic field distortion. That hull-like thing up there appears to be ten thousand years old. Maybe more."

Arsalan ordered his team to set up a defensive perimeter. The Marauder stayed in the middle to provide 360 degrees fire mission. Ilusun trailed the Major, watching her poke around. Eventually, she stumbled across something. A small portion of the trash slid apart and revealed the opening.

"Harmonious Fist!" one of the squad soldiers shouted. "Three o'clock!"

A battalion appeared from the south. It had black-clad commandos and trucks with welded plate shields. The war horn was sounded, followed by the raging battle cries of many warriors. The sky trembled and threatened to fall.

Mortar shells landed around Ilusun's people, blasting craters out from the dusts. The squad took cover and immediately returned fire. The APC launched canisters of infrared-blocking smoke. Once the screen was raised high enough to obscure their heat signal, the enemy halted fire.

Arsalan took the chance and crawled over to the newly-formed entrance. "Major, you guys go ahead! We'll buy you some time!"

The rapid turn of events had left Nadanju shaken. She was having trouble focusing her thoughts. "No. No. You're joking, right? We go together, right?"

The young captain turned to Ilusun, hoping he's had better luck with the Ranger. "Listen, the Harmonious Fist is going to blow up the anomaly and bury the truth forever, but we're not going to let them. The Eight Banners are sending reinforcement, we just have to hold our position long enough. Go, take care of the Major. Cherish her for the rest of your life, you hear me? I'm counting on you! Now go!"

They parted ways, knowing well this was their last encounter.

In the darkness, the path towards the Ark felt endless. Ilusun was leading the way, making sure the duo do not go astray. He held her hand, knowing she was still shaken. But this was her defining moment, it was everything she ever wanted, and he realized that he was put here for a reason: to make sure Nadanju's dream happens.

"Nad, I'm here," said Ilusun. Never before had he spoken with such confidence "Everything is going to be alright, I promise."

"I knew you'd come back."

"Of course."

They pressed forward with decisive steps, hand in hand, undeterred by the absence of illumination. Soon the Ark's central chamber would come into view, holding the last piece of the cosmic puzzle. They'd become heroes, the ones who found answers to the age-long questions: who were we, where did we come from, and where do we go from now.