“Hey,” she heard from above her. “You okay?”
She opened her eyes and turned. Diamond was standing there.
“I’m fine,” she got to her feet, “Should you be walking around?”
“No, but I wanted to check on you.”
She smiled. “I’m okay. Just trying to say a small prayer for Elise.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No, it’s not that,” she shook her head and looked down. “I – I can’t remember the prayer. I can’t remember any of the prayers.”
“It’s just shock. You’ve been through a lot, you just need rest and to get your thoughts together. It’ll take time.”
“No. no, Jack,” she shook off his hand. “I’ve had this for a while now. Months.”
“Months?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing.”
“Don’t say that, it bothers you. Have you any idea what might have caused you to forget all your prayers?”
She paused.
“Vidya – do you have any idea what might have caused it?”
“It all started after I got my nano-medical shot. Others who’d got the shot starting having the same problem. They told us – they told that we were losing our souls.”
“What?”
“Jack, did Elise lose her soul?”
“Of course she didn’t! Who said that? Who said that the shots were destroying your souls?”
“That’s not important.”
“Oh yes it is.”
“The other side, alright?” she snapped. “I’m an insurgent.”
He grabbed her suddenly, vices around each arm. “That,” he said slowly, “Is the best thing I’ve heard all day!”
Oven-fresh bread rolls steamed in a heap. A sharp tang rose from a cheese wheel as Diamond cut into it. A grape fell from a bunch Vidya picked, it rolled back to the bottom of the bowl.
“So you see, the final refuge of the Xeno-Transcendent,” Diamond tore a loaf in two, “is in the minds of the people of this planet, themselves.”
“You’ll have to explain it again to me,” said Escobar, holding a headset to one ear. One the table in front of him was a black, scuffed, radio. Dead air crackled as he ran through frequencies.
“And me,” said Vidya. “I don’t have anyone else in my head, thanks.”
“Exactly, you don’t. That’s why you’re a target. And also medical workers; teachers and students like in that incident report; and even some police. These jobs are either high risk, or they’re around children. So these people were immunized. The modern nano-immunity shots cleaned out the existing layer put in by the space beetles – “
“The plague roaches,” said Escobar.
“The Servants of the Eye,” said Vidya.
“ – cleaned it out, and repaired what was identified as damage: xeno-pattern neural nets. That’s why you can’t remember your prayers anymore, Vidya. Because the parts of your brain that could, weren’t human.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes. “And if it’s even halfway true, and the immunity has destroyed parts of my memory, I can just relearn my prayers.”
“No, I don’t think you can.”
“Why not?”
“More mead?” offered Escobar.
“Well you haven’t been able to, have you?”
“I haven’t really had a chance to sit down and focus on them.”
“You’ve had months, and you’re making excuses so you won’t feel so bad. Remember the insects – they flashed at each other. This was how the Xeno-Transcendent passed information between them; like the pulses between logic gates, or between the neurons of a brain. With people they have to do it differently, they do it with prayer!”
“An alien computer than runs on prayer?” she smirked and bit into an apple.
“Think about it. People crowded in a temple, all chanting a language they don’t understand. How do they really know what to say next? Are they even saying what they think they are? They’re passing information between each other, information that the alien nets are processing.”
“So you’re saying they’re all schizophrenics?” asked Escobar. “They have another mind inside them?”
“Yes, but they only have parts of another mind inside them. When they hold prayers, these parts can connect. The larger the prayer gatherings, the more processing happens. That’s why it waited six months to attack Sun Tzu.”
“The Great Pilgrimage?” asked Escobar.
“The biggest gathering of the faithful, in seven years. The attack came right at the height of the pilgrimage season. And Kashi is the biggest pilgrimage site on the planet. It is most powerful there.”
“But people would have noticed,” said Vidya. “We would have felt something was wrong.”
“Would you have? Honey, you worship bugs. You never thought that was strange. Your own brains have been turned against you. You didn’t think it odd that a cobbler might one day start writing genetic coding for a bio-bomb, any more than if he were repairing a shoe.”
“Of course I’d find that odd.”
“Now you will; you were immunized by the time that crazy shit started. You were no longer a part of the Xeno hive brain. That’s why back at Amli, you not only swatted a god bug – you shot it. Remember how angry you were when I tried to kill one back at Madame Clare’s?” he leaned forward and jabbed his finger at her. “How does a girl like that, an insurgent girl, end up fighting against her gods and shooting at them?”
She said nothing.
“But, if it could use the massed pilgrims to fight,” said Escobar, “then why would it use the Plague Roaches as well? Isn’t that redundant?”
“It is. Unless however, it needed the extra processing power that badly. Defeating Sun Tzu is one thing – defeating the UEF is another. Information and technology are our best weapons. Our systems and data are protected by code walls that even the most powerful computers would take years to crack. That must be what it deployed the beetles for. It’s trying to crack our code walls.”
“Those machines that attacked us,” said Vidya, “that was Union technology. It’s cracked your walls.”
“The most important ones, yes.” He darkened. “Those were weaponized Von Neumann machines. They’ll spread, kill, make copies of themselves, and then spread again. They could overrun and destroy this entire planet. If the Xeno-Transcendent can leave the planet or contact its friends out there, it can give them this technology.”
“Why would you bring such a thing here?” Vidya spat the words like rail rounds. “Why would you even make such things?”
“In case we had to use them. We’re in this for the species, Vidya. I think Sun Tzu – and a lot of other Union decision makers – have always seen you and all your people as expendable.”
The only sound at the table was the dead air on the radio.
“Well,” said the Father at last, “That’s that. I’m very sorry Jack, but I cannot pick up the Washington. You can take the radio to message them if you like, but I only ask that you please don’t transmit from near the church. I don’t want to be noticed!”
“Yes,” Diamond deflated. “That’s alright father. I’m going to try your radio myself if that’s alright. I just need to know for sure that they’re not transmitting.”
“Of course, my son.”
“What good does just listening do?” asked Vidya. “They can’t rescue us unless we transmit to show we’re here.”
“I’m not interested in rescue,” Jack shook his head. “I need to know if the Washington is still there. If it’s gone, then I have to carry out some special orders that Cullins sent me. Something called ‘Burning Eagle.’”
“What’s Burning Eagle?”
“I have no idea. But it’s in case the UEF command and control breaks down completely. A couple of hundred kilometers south from here is a vault or base of some sort. I need to get there.”
“That’s the deep desert,” said Vidya. “Nothing grows there,
there isn’t even water underground.”
“I’ll take a cooler full of beer, then.”
“Assuming it hasn’t been destroyed, what will you do when you get there? Restock on hand cannon shells?”
“I have no idea. But it’s our best option.”
“It’s a terrible option.”
“It’s the only option.”
“How are we even supposed to reach it? We can’t walk.”
The father cleared his throat politely. “I may be of some assistance.”
“The donkeys?” asked Jack.
Escobar scowled. “If you think I’ll give you Pedro and Ana, then there’s more than just two donkeys here. Come with me, there’s something I need to show you.”
The barn was small as such things go, it beams and planks grayed with time, sun, and rain. Its wooden windows were swung wide open. The sun climbed through them and painted the hay, gold. At the far end, a large, black, plastic tarpaulin covered something the size of a tractor.
“Nice manger,” Diamond sniffed. The air smelled of dung and straw. “Any saviors sleep here?”
“It gets very cold at night,” said Escobar, walking in. “This is where Ana and Pedro sleep,” he motioned.
Diamond and Vidya looked at the small mattress beside the flattened hay, and said nothing. A wooden crucifix hung over it, above another open window. Through it, three, simple, head stones could be seen.
“What are those?” Vidya walked over to the window and pointed.
“It’s how we treat our dead,” said Escobar. “We bury them.”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he smiled and shook his head. “They were good, brave men, but I did not know them. They came to save me when the invasion started. They came to save me,” he reached the plastic tarp and grabbed it, “with this!”
He pulled it away, spilling ninety years of dust into the air. Diamond whistled. Vidya stepped up and ran her fingers over the hull.
“An APC,” Diamond grinned, “You do have a savior in your manger!”
“Fifth Planetary Division,” she ran her fingers over the words. “But will it still work?”
“The power pack is still good,” said Escobar. “I charge the radio with it from time to time.”
“Thorium fuel cell,” said Jack. He tried opening the stiff, passenger-side door. “Good for a couple centuries. Vidya, this is early Union, frontier military design. Make everything simple, unbreakable, and last forever.” The door popped opened. “Like so.”
“If you can get it going again, it should be able to take you to the deep desert and back.”
“Padre, if we can get this going again, it can take us round the planet,” he climbed in.
“Take the radio too.”
Diamond looked out. “No, you should keep that. You need it.”
“Do I? You two are the ones who need to find the Washington, Jack. And if you’re right about those machines you saw, I might not get much more use of out that radio after all. Take it with you. When all this is over, you can always bring it back.”
Vidya gave Jack a look.
“Padre, you need to know that I might not make it back,” said Jack quietly. “A Von Neumann outbreak is a terrible thing. It grows exponentially, if not dealt with immediately it becomes unstoppable. If they ignore this place as the aliens did, then you and Vidya are going to need that radio for when humans return.”
“What?” Vidya turned. “You are not going without me!”
“Well I can’t bring you along in good conscience.”
“Fuck your conscience! It’s not your decision! Typical male. You’re just like a Paradiso man.”
“Vidya, flying around in a heavily armed spacecraft is one thing. This is another. We have almost no supplies and weapons, we have no support, no cavalry, nothing. Our allies are a couple of donkeys and the last Christian hermit. No offence, Father.”
“None taken.”
“Elise is dead because of me. I’m not getting you killed next.”
“Don’t you dare use her name!” her eyes flamed. “What’s done is done. You can’t bring her back from the dead like everyone else around you. And I can’t bring my baby brother back, if those Von Neumann things kill him.
“You don’t get it Jack. We’re fighting for our homes and lives here. We don’t care about the Union, aliens, space, the Universe. We just don’t care. Those are reasons you’re here, and if you fail, you’ll get to talk about it afterwards in a debriefing interview at Jupiter. Me? I’m all in, Jack. I have to save my brother, and I have to save my planet. So understand this: I’m the one taking that APC. You’re the one who’s going to help me.”
Diamond stared at the girl barely half his height.
“Well?” she said at last. “Have you anything to say?”
“No,” he said slowly. “With your permission, I’d like to work on this vehicle, Ma’am.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not mocking you. You’re right. This is your world, not the Union’s. Us Union sorts don’t understand that. There isn’t much point saving this world from aliens if we’re just going to turn around and fill their shoes.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”
“Great. Now, are you going to stand there hugging your lady feelings, or will you check the back for a toolbox?”
Burning Eagle
Strategic Warfare
10:01 am
The motorcade of Cherokees ground down the dirt road. On either side the flat desert stretched for miles. The only distance markers were odd rocks and thorny plants, struggling out of the sand to make their mark. The mid-morning air shimmered and broke into mirages.
Ahead of the motorcade was a city of steel. Huge, round, tanks grew out of the sand like giant termite mounds. Grey towers squeezed between them, their ends lit with petrochemical flares. The motorcade reached the edge of the city, driving up to a chain link fence. The fence ran in either direction, blinking yellow lights atop each fence post. Gun drones patrolled outside, their tilt rotors kicking up sand like dust devils.
The fence slid open. Guards in Droptrooper fatigues emerged from behind a berm and waved them in. As they drove by, Koirala noticed the lowered HUD visors and tensely held guns. Behind the berm, a massive fire support drone waited patiently, like a kneeling centaur.
They drove towards the center of the refinery, to the admin block. Sun and rain had long since bleached away the white paint job. Rust stains ran down the walls, broken windows had created bat caves. The asphalt parking lot had been excavated, and electric lights strung out from a generator tent. A line of parked Cherokees and buggies made up the motor pool. More Droptroopers were here, their helmets locked and tracked the motorcade.
Other helmets tracked them too.
“Look at them!” Khalid had his head out the window like the family dog. “Magnificent bastards!”
A squad of gleaming, black, diamondoid golems stood guard by the motor pool. They were a little taller than a man, but more slender. They carried rail rifles –larger and heavier than what the Droptroopers were using. They had dronezookas clipped to their belts like spare magazines. Their faces were flat, armored, visors with their serials painted on them.
The vehicles stopped and their passengers disembarked. A reception party came out of the admin block to meet them. The officers saluted their colonel, and he saluted back.
“At ease,” said Baumgartner. “Captain Nieman, bring me up to speed.”
“We’ve capped two more tanks, and started pumping at three more wells,” said a stocky, dark haired man. Rolled-up sleeves revealed a diamondoid, prosthetic arm. “This doubles our capacity. We can print a platoon in an hour, complete with heavy support.”
“What about bombers?”
“We’re up to three every six hours, but I can tell you right now it’s never going to be a good trade. A single bomber is diamondoid enough for two infantry platoons. We need both,
but it’s too early for us to be splitting resources right now.”
“I know it’s a bit late to bring this up,” said Koirala, “but isn’t using weaponized AI a bad idea? We can’t trust the AIs in our own guns and drones anymore. How we can trust an army of self-repairing, autonomous, units?”
“A good question Ma’am, but these should be safe,” said Nieman. “Our AI systems were subverted over months by the Xeno-Transcendent. These are entirely new systems, with unique code walls. “
“Thank you Captain,” said Baumgartner. “Now what about the attack?”
“The morning attack ended around 0900. We’re still analyzing the wrecks, but they seem to be armored versions of the ones that attacked yesterday. There are several armor patterns.”
“Several?”
“Yes Sir. I think they were testing them against our weapons, trying to figure out which would be the most effective.”
“A genetic algorithm,” said Koirala. “Classic neural net problem solving.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “We’ll probably find out at 2000 tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That’s fourteen hours from the start of the last attack,” he explained. “Their second attack was fourteen hours after the first, and today’s was fourteen hours after the second. I’m guessing the pattern might repeat again.”
“Any idea why they’re attacking every fourteen hours?” asked Baumgartner. They entered the building. There were more drop troops here, helmets off and mostly in vests. They looked up from data pads and CAD projections. Engineers.
“We think it must be their reproduction interval. Everything they learn, they throw into the next wave.”
“And the waves are getting bigger?” asked Baumgartner.
“Yes. This force was three times as large as the previous one. That one, was twice as large as the one before it.”
“Looks like they’re stepping up their production as well,” said Koirala. “Let’s talk strategic. Where are they getting their resources from?”
“From people, Ma’am,” one of the engineers got up, a hazel-haired man with a moustache. “Lieutenant Kastner, 2nd Engineering. They’re hitting villages and small towns, and using the people as feedstock.”
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